#tua fanfiction

[badkitty3000]

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.   

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[1-imaginary-girl]

Annoying 2

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: Five and Y/N are now partners. They’ve been assigned their first official mission as a team. But when the plan derails, the two find themselves facing a choice that might change the course of their new partnership. Reader is gender-neutral.

Warnings: Violence

Word Count: 5113

Part 1

A/N: This was originally going to be an independent one-shot, but there were so many requests for more “Annoying” content I decided to switch things up. If anyone has any suggestions or requests for what to do to continue this series, I would greatly appreciate it.

Reader’s POV

“Have you completely memorized your character sheet?” Five shouts from another room. You’re currently putting the finishing touches on your disguise in the washroom of your shared hotel room. And thankfully, the Handler assigned the two of you separate beds. Your face heats up thinking of a different situation.

“Yes, Five, believe it or not, this isn’t my first time undercover,” you shout back. You smile, knowing he's probably rolling his eyes at you.

This is yours and Five's first official mission together as partners. Just the sentence makes you want to squeal. But you have to keep yourself professional tonight. You want to show Five just how good an agent, and a partner, you could be.

There was a bit of prep and training before tonight as neither you nor Five has had a partner before and the Handler doesn’t respond well to mistakes. It was simple tests to ensure that the two of you were suitable to be partners, such as practicing combat as a duo, reviewing boring company documents, and there was even a training video called “How to be the Ideal Partner” which Five immediately tried to walk out of before the Handler reminded him it was required.

All of this extra work worried you that Five would change his mind about being your partner, especially since you weren’t even sure what finally convinced him to do it in the first place. But to your surprise and delight, Five stuck through it with bearable complaining.

You touch up your face and adjust a few stray hairs before feeling satisfied. You stand back and take a look at yourself. The look is a bit bold but you remind yourself that you are no longer Y/N L/N but rather Sam Palinski. A bit of an average name, but the point was not to stick out.

You’re not sure if the Handler did this on purpose, but the outfit chosen for “Sam” cuts quite the figure. It hugs your body a bit tighter than what you would normally wear, but you remind yourself to be confident. In fact, you look pretty hot. The outfit isn’t perfect for hand-to-hand combat, but the objective was to avoid as much conflict as possible. Thankfully, you are wearing shoes that double in comfort as well as looks.

The details of your character sheet rattle off in your mind. You shouldn’t need to know too much, just enough to hold a conversation, but you were prepared nonetheless.

“I would prefer to get there on time,” Five shouts. This time it’s you who’s rolling your eyes.

“Calm down, I’m coming,” you say. After one final look at yourself and a whisper of encouragement, you exit the washroom. “Besides, it’s always better to be fashionably late, don’t you think?”

You look up and are struck by the image of Five Hargreeves in a tuxedo. While he’s normally seen in a suit and tie, the look of him in a proper suit with his hair combed back sets your heart aflutter more than usual. He locks eyes with you and you think you see his eyes widen. You try to portray an act of confidence as he surveys your look.

“Well, what do you think?” you say while outstretching your arms. Your smile brings his eyes back up to your face.

“You look…adequate,” he says before clearing his throat and turning away. You don’t know what you expected, but something in you deflates. You think you hear him mutter, “Not very inconspicuous” but you brush it off.

“Just what every person wants to hear.” Suddenly you feel awkward with Five’s back to you so you inch closer to gauge a reaction out of him. “So, are you ready to make our debut, Mr. Palinski?”

Five scowls to himself while taking a step away. “I don’t see why the Handler had to make our identities married to one another.” You’re used to Five’s grumpiness. You never let it affect you because you know that’s just the way he is. But sometimes you think there might be another side to him. And a part of you keeps hoping that he’ll show you that side more. But you already got him to agree to be your partner. You got what you wanted from him, right?

“Because a married couple is more discreet than two eligible singles, especially when I look like this.” You give a twirl and wink at the boy. His face is flushed, probably from frustration. He’s cute when he’s frustrated.

“We should get going.” You roll your eyes at his abruptness.

“Fine. After you, husband.” You receive one more scowl for the road.

After a short drive where Five continued to shut down your attempts to sing along to the radio, you pull up to the target’s location. The target is hosting a soiree at their ginormous mansion which is how Five and you will be able to slip in amongst the attendants.

Even though you knew what the mansion looked like since the two of you surveyed the area prior to tonight, the size still blows you away. You wonder what it would take for you to live in a mansion like this.

Driving past the front gate, you arrive in front of the doors. There is a valet stationed to help you out of the car. You thank them and take in the scene before you. Five rounds the car after handing the keys over to the valet and stands beside you.

He starts to walk in when you see a security guard with no doubt a guest list. You quickly loop your arm through Five’s and hold tight when he tries to pull away.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hisses at you. You roll your eyes.

“We’re supposed to be married and that involves acting like it,” you hiss back. “Haven’t you ever done undercover work?”

He tosses a glare your way. “Yes but normally I’m on my own,” he whispers. And then under his breath says, “Which I’m starting to miss right about now.”

You ignore his negativity and simply pull him along with you. The two of you give your names to the security guard, and after presenting I.D., you are let in. One reason you love working in the field is the various places you get to travel. Rich targets are your favourite because they always have the most extravagant homes.

You look around in awe as you take in the place. Immediately there’s a golden chandelier above you in the entryway. Just a little further you can see into the ballroom and your excitement doubles. “Come on,” you say to Five without giving him a glance and dragging him over to the room.

“Slow down, you’re going to tear my arm off.” His complaint goes in one ear and out the other as you stumble into the room. People dressed in their most expensive clothing populate the room. There are tables and such off to the sides where some are conversing, but it’s the middle of the room that catches your eye. There, people are dancing the waltz, and you compare the sight to a dazzling teacup ride as they move round and round in circles, the girls twirling their dresses in various colours while the men take the lead.

“We should spread out, try to blend in with the crowd before making a move to recover the flash drive,” Five says while scanning the area. Your mission was to recover a stolen flash drive that the target swiped from the Commission. The target is an ex-employee and a bitter one at that. The flash drive contains confidential information about the Commission, specifically compromising details about their agents. That includes Five and yourself.

You know the mission is an important one, but you can’t help but feel drawn to the dance floor. You want to get swept away into your secret identity and for one night blend in with this society of high-class, beautiful-looking people.

“We should dance,” you blurt out.

“We absolutely should not.” He looks at you incredulously. But you don’t care.

“Come on Five—”

“Y/N, we’re supposed to be blending in not standing out.”

“But isn’t the best hiding spot in plain sight?” You look at him with your best attempt at a puppy dog face. Despite his lack of human emotion, he does look away from you.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” It becomes clear to you that he won’t budge and you would either have to drag him kicking and screaming onto the dance floor or let it go. Or a third, more devious option.

“Fine. We should split up, talk to different people.”

“Don’t blow our cover by talking too much,” he warns you with a serious look on his face.

“Who, me?” You give him one last cheeky smile before heading towards the right side of the room.

You scour the crowd of well-dressed people looking for someone to execute your plan with. There are plenty of eligible bachelors, but your eyes land on one in particular. You can’t believe your luck, but there, standing on his own, is the host. He’s also the one who stole the flash drive. You straighten your back and quickly saunter over to him before anyone else can scoop him up.

“What’s a handsome man like yourself doing all alone?” you ask as you saddle up next to him. The man turns to you and smiles.

“Apparently, I was waiting for you.” Despite yourself, you blush. It isn’t often you get this kind of attention.

“Sam Palinski, pleasure to meet you,” you say.

“Michael Lynell, and I can assure you, the pleasure is all mine.” You feign shock at the name.

“You’re the host?”

“That’s correct.”

“Well, you certainly know how to throw an event,” you say, gazing out at the sea of people and the intricate, beautiful décor.

“Thank you, I do hope you’re enjoying your time so far.”

“Absolutely.”  

A pause. “Are you unaccompanied tonight?” he asks. Smooth move.

“Actually, I’m here with my husband,” you say. You try and fail to spot Five amongst the crowd. Michael only then seems to notice your (fake) wedding ring. His face shows mild disappointment.

“Ah, I see.” He seems a bit defeated before perking up and regaining his charming attitude. “Do you think your husband would mind if I asked his lovely spouse for a dance?” he asks. You’re surprised you didn’t have to ask him, but are excited nonetheless.

“Not at all.” Michael holds out his hand and you take it, following him onto the floor as a new song begins. Michael takes the lead and you’re perfectly content to follow.

“You’re quite the dancer, Mr. Lynell,” you say, feeling giddy to be dancing for the first time in a while.

“Only because I have such a good partner,” he says with a wink. You bite your lip to keep from smiling too much. The man is rather cute, and perhaps if he wasn’t your current enemy, you could see yourself actually pursuing him.

Just as you allow yourself to get swept up into the dance, your eyes flicker down from Michael’s gaze to the crowd. Suddenly, your eyes lock onto Five’s as he stares at you from across the room, and there’s a look there that you don’t recognize. You look away, trying to ignore him for the time being. There’s no use in entertaining that idea. You shake off any ill-conceived hopes and continue with your fantasy.

Before the song is over, however, Five appears next to you which gives you a start. His eyes are on Michael as he taps the man on the shoulder. Michael turns to him, just as startled.

“Mind if I cut in to dance with my spouse?” Five asks him with anger laced in his tone. It must be your silly imagination, but you could have sworn he emphasized the last two words.

Michael recovers from his surprise and returns to his charming host persona. “Of course,” he says. He then turns to you. “It was a pleasure, Palinski.”

You nod with a smile as he weaves through the crowd and disappears from your sight. You’re drawn back as Five repositions you to dance with him. You are bewildered by his actions. “What are you doing?” you ask as he prepares himself.

“Dancing,” he says, as if it was a stupid question. Then the two of you begin to dance as if nothing happened. You stare at him, trying to figure him out, but he’s determined to stare at the top of your head instead.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t dance,” you say with narrowed eyes. But his expressionless face doesn’t waver.

“I said we shouldn’t dance, but since you’ve chosen to ignore my advice, you leave me no choice but to keep up appearances or risk blowing our cover,” he says, all calculating and professional. “After all, married couples typically dance together, do they not?”

Again, you thought you heard an emphasis on the word “together”. So, you pull on that thread. “I was doing just fine dancing with our host.” Then you see it. Five flinches at your words. Your confusion only grows.

“And just what were you doing interacting with our enemy?” He finally meets your gaze as if looking for something.

“Blending in.”

“By making lasting impressions? We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile,” he snipes.

“Relax, I doubt it was a lasting impression.” Five looks as if he wants to argue but decides against it.

“It was a risk nonetheless.” You almost argue back but stop yourself. You don’t want to argue. You’re right where you want to be: dancing at a fancy event, and with Five himself no less. You decide to just let yourself enjoy it.

A few moments of silence pass over the two of you before you speak up again, this time with a teasing tone. “I didn’t expect Five Hargreeves to be such a good dancer.” He meets your eyes again and your breath catches. Thankfully he doesn’t seem to notice.

“My father trained us in ballroom dancing. Said it would help with our coordination, or something about dancing being an important skill,” he says, and as he talks there’s a far-off look in his eyes. “He was old-fashioned like that.”

You try not to get excited about all that you’ve learned about Five so far. He said us, which suggests he has siblings and the words “trained” and “coordination” seem to suggest more teachings than a regular father would give.

“He sounds like an interesting fellow,” you comment. Five snorts derivatively.

“That’s one way to describe him.” You don’t want to push him for more information since you’ve already gotten more in the last few seconds than you have the last few months. But you also don’t want the conversation to end or for him to regret telling you so you offer something up in return.

“I used to take dance lessons when I was a kid, my own idea,” you say, smiling fondly. “Of course, it turns out I was terrible at dancing, and I quit after a year.” Five laughs, and your chest swells with pride as you smile back.

“You don’t seem so terrible right now,” he offers, a rare compliment from the man.

“I suppose a few lessons must have stuck,” you say. “That, or I have an excellent partner.”

“Must be the latter,” Five says, causing both of you to laugh. When your eyes meet again, and the two of you are caught smiling, something seems to change in the air. You two continue to dance, but Five doesn’t look away this time, instead giving you an earnest look. You don’t look away either. You hold your breath, afraid that one false move might ruin this moment. But everything good must come to an end eventually.

The music stops, and it’s as if Five snapped out of a trance, for he quickly looks away and clears his throat. You can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. “I think now’s the time to begin the search,” he says, all traces of amusement gone.

You recover yourself and nod. “Yes, right.” Five then takes off towards the staircase and you’re close on his heels. You nervously glance around before making a bold move. You catch his hand and grab his arm with your other hand, snuggling into his side with a giddy smile plastered on your face.

Five appears taken aback by your actions. “W-what the hell are you doing?” he asks, his face reddening.

“Keeping up appearances, remember?” you say still with a smile. “It’s a bit less suspicious for a couple to sneak off somewhere together than two individuals.”

“Right,” he says, but still seems very uncomfortable, only managing a tight smile as a cover.

†††

Once you’re out of sight, you immediately let Five go. You feel a tad embarrassed by your actions, but you were only trying to keep yourselves from getting caught. Five leads the way to the office located in the building, remembering the blueprints you studied together.

The door is locked when you find it, but Five simply teleports inside and unlocks it for you. You had planned for this; when the two of you were scoping out the place, Five made sure to check out the office from the windows to know what the room looked like.

“Stand guard while I search,” he tells you before walking away. You scrunch your face.

“Why am I standing watch, exactly?”

Without looking up from his search, Five says, “Because you said I could take lead on our missions.” You try to remember your multiple pitches to Five when asking to be his partner. Damn, you did say that.

“I take it back,” you say while maintaining watch of the hallway.

“Too late.” You huff but accept your fate. Your gaze flickers across the hallway, keeping your eyes and ears open for any witnesses. You can faintly hear the music from the first floor and can’t help but wish you were back there, dancing again. Dancing with Five. You shake your head and try not to let your mind wander any further.

After a while of painful silence, Five breezes past you. “I’ve got it,” he says, holding the flash drive in his hand. You smile.

“Finally.” You snatch the flash drive from his hands.

“Hey!” he frowns trying to grab it but you duck out of reach. You giggle and begin to head towards the stairs when suddenly two large men in tuxedos enter the hallway. You turn your head to see two more making their way towards you and Five, and you have a feeling that there are more to come.

You quickly stuff the flash drive into one of your pockets.

“The party’s downstairs kids,” one of the men in front of you says. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Five tense up and see the calculating gaze enter his eyes.

“Silly us, must’ve had too much champagne!” you say, stalling for the inevitable as you prepare yourself. “Well, we’ll just return to the party—”

“I don’t think so,” the other says, revealing a gun.

“That’s alright. I hear the real party’s upstairs anyway.” With those words, you see Five blink from your side to standing behind the two men. You love seeing the shock on people’s faces the first time it happens.

You turn to deal with the other two. “Can’t we just talk this out?” you ask. One of them takes aim and you roll your eyes. “Guess not.”

The bullet fires but you’ve already moved out of the way. You might not have Five’s teleportation, but you’re quick on your feet. You pull out the gun that was strapped to your leg and shoot the weapon out of the man’s hand. He shouts just as his partner fires at you. But you’re running, and the bullet hits the wall.

You manage to get behind the man you haven’t shot and jump on his back. While he struggles to get you off, you shoot his partner in the neck. The man you’re on top of reveals a hidden knife and slashes at you, opening a gash on your right forearm. You hiss and drop off of him. But you shoot his chest three times before he can turn around.

Near the stairs, you see Five standing over the body of two men but more are coming. As you make your way over, you fire at them, careful not to hit Five while he’s blinking around. The two of you manage to take out eight more guards, but somehow they keep coming.  Then you see one man in particular make his way onto the scene.

“I have to say, Palinski,” Michael Lynell says as he catches your gaze. “I’m rather surprised.”

“What, you didn’t think I was just another pretty face, did you?” you ask, as Five tackles the guards around him. It seems you have Michael’s undivided attention. He smiles at you.

“Of course not. I just didn’t expect the Commission to risk such an obviously valuable asset,” he says, looking you up and down. It doesn’t give you the same butterflies as before but rather sends a chill up your spine.

“Allow me to show you how valuable I really am.” You shoot a few bullets at the man but he’s running before they can reach him. You quickly run out of bullets and toss your gun aside, changing to hand-to-hand combat. Your fist collides with his jaw which sends him stumbling back. You smile as he scowls. But soon he’s diving for you and you barely manage to move out of the way.

Your fight continues with a few blows landing on each other when suddenly he clamps his hand down on your bleeding arm, catching you off guard. You struggle but can feel him gaining the upper hand. In a moment of panic, you spot Five not too far away. While fighting against Michael, you manage to catch Five’s eye.

“Run!” you yell. Before he can process what you mean, the flash drive is out of your pocket and you’re tossing it into the air. Five’s eyes widen before quickly blinking over to catch it. As he catches it, Michael tightens his hold on your arm and you bite back a whimper. He pulls you to his chest and puts you in a chokehold. But he doesn’t cut off your breathing. You look to your right to see a gun pointed at your head.

“Drop your weapon!” Michael shouts at Five. Five looks over and you see his eyes widen. Michael’s the last enemy standing, you and Five managed to take on every other one. You try to struggle in his grasp but he only presses the gun further into your head. Five tosses his gun to the side. You assume he also ran out of bullets anyway.

“Now, hand over the flash drive, or I’ll shoot your pretty partner here,” he says in a menacing voice. He’s cocky and you can sense the victorious smile spreading across his lips. But he's not the only one victorious.

You laugh in his hold. “Nice try, but Five here doesn’t care if you shoot me,” you say. You try not to show your hurt and hide the pain in your chest but you know you’re right. This isn’t how you imagined you’d die, but at least you’ll make a hot corpse.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, pretty,” Michael whispers in your ear, his eyes locked on Five.

Instead of running like you told him to, Five hesitates. To your confusion, he seems to be looking between you and Michael with that calculating gaze. His jaw is set and you can see his frustration from the tightening of his fists.

“Five, what are you doing?” you ask. “Go!” He should have been long gone. He has the flash drive, your mission was a success. Besides, you were only a new partner. As much as you’ve tried, you haven’t managed to get on his good side. He wouldn’t throw away the mission for this.

But then, you watch as Five pulls the flash drive from his pocket. You begin to struggle again, despite the pain of the gun pressing into your skull. Five doesn’t look at you.

“If I hand this over,” Five says. “You let them go.” His voice is seething as he stares Michael down, like he wants to rip him apart. Your mind can barely process what’s happening. You wish he would look at you so that you could try to make some sense of what’s going on in his head, but he refuses to look your way.

“That’s the deal,” Michael says from behind you. In a quieter voice, Michael says to you, “I told you you were valuable.” The sentence sends you to panic more and you shake your head, a bruise beginning to form where the gun is pressing into you.

In a matter of seconds, you watch as Five tosses the flash drive into the air towards Michael. The man shoves you to the ground hard as he tries to catch it. The second he has the object in his grasp, he takes off running.

You groan from your place on the floor. Suddenly you see a flash of blue and Five is leaning over you. His eyes are swimming with concern as he sweeps over your body. Then he locks eyes with you and you feel your breath stop.

“Are you okay?” he asks seriously. His stare is intense and you freeze for a minute. Then you snap back to reality.

“Uh yeah, I’m fine,” you say and Five’s shoulders seem to relax. Then you remember your mission. “Five, he’s getting away!”

“Oh no he’s not,” Five growls as his gaze fills with anger once more. You see Five go from crouching beside you to blinking next to Michael just as he made it to the stairs. You begin to sit up as you watch Five knock the man out, probably killing him. He leans over Michael’s body and you think he says something before he pries the flash drive from his hands.

In a flash, Five is back standing over you. He wordlessly holds out his hand toward you. You grab it and he helps you up. “Thank you,” you say in awe, once again trying to lock eyes with him. But the moment seems to have passed.

“Don’t mention it,” he says, and you have a feeling he isn’t just talking about helping you up.

†††

The car ride back is uneventful, filled with awkward silence. You keep glancing over at Five but his eyes remain focused on the road.

The two of you walk into the motel room, exhausted from the fight. Five prepares to send the flash drive back to the Commission as you watch, unsure of what to do or say. So you say the obvious.

“So, are we not going to talk about it?” you ask. You’re met with silence and you roll your eyes. You reach over to your travel bag and hiss, pulling back your arm.

“You got stabbed, you idiot,” Five says, glancing over his shoulder. Oh, right. You kind of forgot about your injury in your haze of confusion. You hold your arm, wincing at the amount of blood.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, brushing it off. “Just have to patch myself up.”

You search for the motel’s first aid kit. After finding it you plop yourself down in a chair and place the kit on the room’s desk. Then you hesitate, wondering how to proceed single-handedly. Especially using your bad hand. That doesn’t stop you as you open the kit and start to clean the wound. It’s a bit of a struggle and takes you way longer than it should have. You’re also exhausted which doesn’t help.

You hear a sigh and turn to see Five approaching you. “Useless,” he utters as he starts to take over.

“Five, I don’t need your help. I’m fine—”

“Shut up and let me concentrate.” The way he becomes so focused on the task, eyebrows scrunching as he delicately holds your arm, is enough to shut you up more than his words.

“Yes sir,” you whisper, and he rolls his eyes. Silence fills the room as Five wordlessly patches up your wound. You hiss at the rubbing alcohol and he glances up at you, his features softer than normal, before gently continuing the task. You take the time to regard him fondly, watching his small mannerisms and movements.

You get so caught up that the words seem to fall out of your mouth. “Why didn’t you run?” you whisper, trying to keep the moment quiet. He hesitates. “The mission was complete, you had the flash drive. I told you to run.” The question has been eating away at you. Five takes a moment to think before continuing his task.

“They were going to kill you,” he says, as if it was an obvious answer. But nothing about this man seems obvious to you.

“I thought you hated me.”

“I do,” he says and the words seem to hurt despite the fact that you already knew that. “But that doesn’t mean I want you dead.”

Your breath catches as you stare at Five. It’s not much, and for anyone else that sentence would have meant nothing. But you knew that it was Five revealing his feelings for you. Five hates everyone, that's only natural. But this is the first real indication that you mean something to him.

You smile. “For the record, I don’t want you dead either.” Five stops what he’s doing and for the first time since the mansion, he meets your gaze. The two of you hold eye contact for a moment and you swear you see his mouth twitch upwards. Then reality crashes down on both of you and you awkwardly look away while blushing.

Five clears his throat. “This doesn’t change anything,” he says, finishing up the bandaging of your arm.

“Of course not,” you respond, and he seems to hold onto your arm for a moment or two longer than he should have. Then he’s walking away. As you watch him head for the washroom, you both know that that was a lie.

* * * * *

Those who asked for a part 2:

@winchestertitties​ @tua-five​ @violett-s @if-alina​ @shampoocovers99​

#five x reader #five x you #five x y/n #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x y/n #five hargreeves #Five Hargreeves fanfiction #tua #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy fanfiction #tua fanfiction

[kaybreezy3000]

Five is your employer and he's not happy with you. As the night unfolds, you have a very unexpected encounter with him...

~Rated somewhere between G and Mature because, like many of my stories, you can easily skip the sexually explicit parts. (see notes)

This story takes place where we left off with season three, but 5 years later. The name is a nod to hints of what might be coming, though I doubt the Netflix writers are going with my little storyline I have created for you.

~This one is sort of gift to all fanfiction readers and writers. May you always keep passwords on our documents and devices, or maybe not... 😂👌

Warnings: Mildly sexual themes in the middle. This does turn sexually explicit in the second half, but you don't need to read that part to enjoy the story and there is a warning when that starts if you aren't into all that stuff.

(8,711 words)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Hargreeves home for wayward boys'

It was the end of the day and the Hargreeves family had all disappeared. You knew they were somewhere privately hashing things out, but as just a lowly intern working on their project, staying for that to happen was not necessary. They would call you later to give their decision and then you’d submit the order.

Speaking of which, your phone rang with a call from your boss and it distracted you as you were collecting your things. Arms full and not realizing you had forgotten something, you used your backend to bump open the large doors of the Umbrella Academy. The doors clicked closed behind you and you walked out into the refreshingly cool evening air. 

Downstairs in the musty kitchen, Allison threw her head back, letting out a tired sigh before saying, “Guys, arguing is getting us nowhere. We need to end this debate. The order needs to be placed today or we won’t have the sign back when the masons are scheduled to be here to install it.”

Viktor set his empty mug on the counter next to a pair of Grace’s discarded rubber dishwashing gloves. “Why don’t we just vote on it?” he proposed, uneasily glancing at Five.

“I say we go with ‘The Hargreeves Home for Wayward Boys,” Diego loudly declared while raising his arm high, to which the rest of the Hargreeves abruptly raised their hands, making it a unanimous vote, if not for Five, sitting forward with his head in his hands and his elbows on the kitchen table as he venomously glared at all of them.

Five locked eyes with Luther. “Really?” he snapped.

His brother nervously smiled. “Ah… Sorry. I changed my mind, buddy.”

“Don’t call me buddy.” Five angrily shook his head. “You changed your mind, huh? Sorry to inform you but clearly this one doesn’t work any better!”

Not getting Five’s belittling joke, Luther looked to Ben who silently rolled his eyes for about the hundredth time in the last hour.

“And you,” Five roared, pointing his finger at him. “You had shown signs of intelligence but now I have my doubts. Maybe if you keep rolling your eyes like that you might find evidence of a brain up there. This name doesn’t even make any sense! We aren’t just admitting boys!”

“Sure it does,” Lila disagreed. “You’re the only one who doesn’t think so but that’s because it’s very hard for children to think clearly when they haven’t had their nap. Should we call Grace to fetch your blankie and to make your bottle so you can go to bed early?”

Five balled his hand into fists under the table. “You should use glue instead of Chapstick. I hear it does wonders for making you more tolerable to be around,” he childishly shot back to which Lila merely laughed at him. “So, this is it…nobody else thinks that name sounds awful?” he hissed at anyone still looking at him.

Getting up with a loud squeal of his wooden chair leg on the cracked linoleum flooring, Klaus patted Five on the upper back, but his brother jerked away from the gesture. “Oh, come on, Five,” he said followed by an airy laugh. “It’s perfect. Even that cute intern upstairs thought so. After we gave her the low down dirty-dirty on our real family history, she’s the one that came up with it.”

Five scowled even more.

“Ahhh,” Diego obliviously sighed. “Things are finally coming together with this project and I’m feeling a Hargreeves style celebration coming on.” He draped his arm around the back of Lila’s chair looking at her, but she was too busy smirking at Five’s increasingly animated display of sour expressions.

“Let’s all go out!” Klaus excitedly added. “I know a great place for karaoke.” Five got up, slinging his suit coat over his shoulder as he started to walk away but Klaus snatched his arm. “Hold it! You’re coming with us.”

Five swifty swatted his hand away, distastefully brushing his brother’s invisible fingerprints from the crisp sleeve of his white dress shirt. “I’d rather shove a pinecone up my ass and let it sit in there until it dissolved than have to be in the presence of all of you for even five more minutes,” he smoothly retorted while flipping up his cuff to check the time.

Klaus’s bright eyes grew wide with glee. “If you are looking for things to shove up your ass, I can think of way more painfully pleasant options. Come on, let me tell you all about it while we decide where we are going to eat.”

Skirting around the table, Five dodged Klaus before he could put an arm around him to drag him in with the rest of the group who were now talking about dinner plans and the epic songs they were going to belt out later.

After breaking away and muttering under his breath that they were all a bunch of idiots, Five slowly wandered up the stairs. With his fists firmly jammed in his pockets and his shoulders inclined forward, his gaze remained empty though his thoughts were anything but.

After making numerous other suggestions, they had all disregarded his concerns, just like they always did. Whether it was trying to help them avoid apocalyptic ends or simply being somewhere at a specific time to save their own asses, he never could win in this family. 

Five cringed as he thought about the name they wanted to use and what it was really referring to.

He was the embodiment of the wayward boy in his family’s less than glorious story. Worst yet, the nod to Homer’s Odyssey, being that it was a narrative Reginald had forced them to remember by heart, was just one of the millions of reasons why, in his head, this was a horrible choice.

That man was an evil incarnate, and Five may have for a time wanted his love and acceptance or even in the very least, his recognition, but he never got them. They’d been used and dumped in a new world without their powers, but at least they had been left with their identities and their childhood home, but those days of bowing to that vile alien parading around as a man were long gone. Five did not want to be associated in any way with Reginald Hargreeves and that title for their new foundation did just that.

“How could they not see that?” he asked himself, trying to work through all this but coming up with nothing other than they were morons. “The last name Hargreeves was already on half the buildings in the city!” he shouted to no one, his voice getting eaten up in the long corridor as his dress shoes stomped along the black and white tiled floor.

As Five watched his siblings raise their hands in favor of the symbolic title, he felt even more set apart from them than he ever had. That feeling wasn’t anything new, and there were many reasons for it, but today, he’d had enough of them not listening to him and he wasn’t about to let this one go until he’d tried one more avenue of attack.

Tromping through the foyer, thinking he’d see you or the lead designer, Five glanced inside the formal dining room but neither of you were there. Looking over the stacks of blueprints on the table, Five spotted your laptop. It was lying among the other items strewn in the large mess but your coat and bag that had been hanging on the back of the chair were gone. Thinking you must have forgotten it and that you had gone for the day, he picked up the streamlined electronic device and carried it with him out of the room.

He’d been dying to lay into you for convincing his family that this asinine idea was the way to go. Sadly, since you weren’t there, that would have to wait and that left him in no better mood, but as he carried your laptop down the hall, he was quickly developing a new plan.

Thinking of you, Five could just see you looking at him like you always did-cautiously but kindly. 

You were always professional and extra nice to him in your interactions, despite him being dismissively rude at times. You’d laugh off his detached behavior and truthfully, he didn’t mind the sound of it, or your sweet smiles, or how your legs looked under your many short skirts and smart little slingback heels. He’d never let himself do more than appreciate the view when you weren’t looking, and he’d thought you were about as harmless as a chipmunk marinated in fertilizer that was walking sideways.

He was wrong on that, and worse yet, he simply didn’t get you and Five did not like when he didn’t understand things.

His lips pulled to the side as he noted your almost unnatural ability to remain persistently positive when working with a bunch of ridiculous assholes. Looking past some of your more appealing qualities, he quickly concluded that you were about as stupid and fake as fake could get.

You had stepped on the wrong man’s toes and this meant war.

With steam practically billowing out his ears over how mad he was at you, Five became absorbed in the thought of pissing some of his own mocking sunshine into your Clever Crisp cereal and he knew just the way to do it and get rid of you.

“Perfect fucking idea my ass,” he said through clenched teeth as his diabolical grin spread.

Five opened Reginald’s old office door and flopped down at the large mahogany desk. Flipping the laptop open, he flexed his fingers, his eyes roaming over the keys as the screen came to life.

They could call the design team and tell them the decision was made, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do something about it and make it look like you were the one that fucked things up, which as an added bonus that would probably get you fired.

If the very expensive stone signage they were ordering came and didn’t say what his family had wanted it to say, at that point, you’d be in deep shit, and he’d simply look the other way feigning innocence. He’d argue that at that point it was an issue of money and managing their extremely tight budget, so, to be sensible, they should just go with it as is-which would be his title of choice.

To Five, this was a win-win. Nosy intern fired, and no more demeaning name that was a reference to him hanging above the academy’s front door.

It was a simple matter of typing in his idea in the order form, and sitting in front of him was the means to do it. Call or no call, he’d send this in first. The work would get started and it would be too late.

Five was no hacker but over the last few years of being holed up at the Umbrella Academy due to having to live the life of a shut-in teenager again, he’d learned a thing or two about modern tech. With a few clicks, he was into your files.

“Where is it?” he hummed as his eyes ran over the images of little manila folders. There were tons of them and the way you had them labeled was not helping.

Clicking on one that appeared to have image files attached to it had seemed logical since he was looking for a mockup of the graphic design they’d be using going forward for all their letterhead and signage.

“Shit,” Five scoffed as he saw tiny blips of hundreds of your personal photos. These had nothing to do with what he needed and that also meant this computer was not just something you used for work. He was just about to close the file since it was obviously personal in nature but then an image of you when you were slightly younger caught his eye.

Your cheeks were a little bit rounder and your hair a little longer. When he clicked on the next shot and it was one where you were on some kind of vacation and you were wearing a swimsuit, he leaned forward.

He stared at the picture, suddenly intrigued. Opening more pictures, Five realized that same bright smile of yours never faltered in any one of the shots.

It had never crossed his mind that he’d see anything personal while he was digging through your computer, but here it all was and all he had to do was open the files because you foolishly didn’t password protect them.

Driven by curiosity and with nothing else to do for the night, Five dug deeper into your world. He found files with old college assignments which he skimmed over with only moderate interest. Then, clicking on a folder that seemed harmlessly titled, he found himself completely distracted, all at once, totally forgetting what he’d been searching for.

Five scooched even closer to the screen.

The first file he opened was relatively small and he read through it quickly. It was written like some sort of story, or more like part of one. It was about a man that found himself in a version of his body that was much younger looking than he should be. Miraculously he had been through hell and back, and mentally he was much older than he looked, but outwardly he didn’t look any older than his physical age of eighteen. The details of how this all came to be weren’t in this part of her story, but Five immediately recognized the familiarity of the storyline, and he instantly started plowing through the other files in that folder in a sudden need to know what else you’d written.

The files were like snippets of a larger story, not yet fully written or interconnected the way a novel would be, but all of them involved the same two characters, and the scenes were incredibly familiar but also not. Changes to how they actually occurred in real life were subtle enough to make what he was reading fiction, but the similarities were what agitated him and had his defenses on high alert. Even more than that, the male character in your writings was a perfect description of him in all but his name, and the female, though barely described, very much resembled you.

The story laid out that the male character was the infamously lost son of a very wealthy man whose influence held the entire world by the throat. After appearing out of the blue on the doorstep of his family home after years of being missing, this boy chose to keep to himself but that didn’t mean people weren’t aware he was back.

He intentionally carried himself apart from all others, always dressed impeccably, with his dark hair neatly smoothed to one side. He was cold and calculating and always moved with intent, brooding in his mannerisms, but the female in the story also described him as so breathtakingly handsome when he thought no one was looking and he dared to crack a smile.

“She thinks I’m handsome…?” Five breathed as he read on.

The female narrator went on to say, ‘It turned out, that he could storm around the near empty academy all day if he wanted, or even call the president and claim that he was now a 59-year-old man, but sadly that didn’t mean a thing if you had no proof and you looked like a murderously feral kid parading around in your fancy big boy clothes.’

Five’s stomach dropped through the floor. There was no way this wasn’t about him, and you weren't even trying to hide it!

Talking to a character that was said to be one of this tragic figure’s brother’s, the female in the story was told that the boy had no other choice but to abide by laws of normal men unless he wanted to risk the state forcing him into the foster system or worse. All this left him with little choice and a very bad taste in his mouth and he’d been lashing out for years with vengeance about it, ironically acting just like the temperamental teenager he appeared to be..

By the time the woman in the story had come to work for him, years had passed and this character was technically not a kid anymore. Again, because he was too proud to move in with any of his siblings, he’d served his time living behind the walls of the academy his family owned, but those difficult days were no more. It was time to move on, but the female character could see that for all her employer’s outward confidence, the man inside the boy wasn’t sure how to do that.

He still hadn’t found his place in the world. He lived in limbo, completely alone, other than the presence of a robot housekeeper that he called Grace and his siblings still called mom.

He went out but did not act as someone would who was his outward age, yet it wasn’t really his fault because he couldn’t partake in what those his real age did. He dressed like a man on a mission though he had no reason to anymore. Three-piece suits on a teenager and his smug expressions and even more caustically biting words weren’t gaining him any friends on his daily outings or within the tight circle of those he trusted and called family.

The female narrator said, outwardly, he was one thing, but inside, he felt like a joke.

His sharp green eyes spoke of his true age and the trauma of the life he’d lived, but he kept himself in check most of the time, never letting his guard down or letting anyone in for fear that they would see how much he suffered and still does.

Despite his cruelties to even her, the female protagonist said she saw right through him and under all of it was some very special. She said he was worthy of so much more than he was letting himself have.

“What the fuck? What the hell does she mean by special and worthy of more? My life is just fine!” Five fumed.

Five wasn’t just furious about this, he was confused. It didn’t seem like you were trying to actually write a book since none of this it was in any form of order, but he was stumped as to why else you’d be writing such things other than to exploit him somehow and make money by trying to sell some bullshit tell-all story about his fucked-up life.

He shook with fury, his knuckles white as he clenched the wooden armrests on Reginald’s old high back chair.

You had called him out but did so safely from his pretend female’s perspective. 

You said this male’s lack of interest in others was just a way to hide how vulnerable and lonely he truly felt! 

You said that all his arrogance and cocky remarks were nothing more than a sign that he was desperate for love that he’d never been given, and now didn’t know how to reach for.

You said you felt bad for him!

“I don’t need her fucking sympathy!” Five seethed as he angrily clicked on another much longer file in your writing folder.

Right off, he could tell this one was much different than the others he’d read about your daily exchanges in this fictional yet not fictional narrative you’d been writing about him.

It was set in the same work setting, set in the large manor that the deceptively young male lived. The characters were in a richly decorated office, with dark paneled walls and low light filtering in from the setting sun bleeding through the stained-glass windowpanes.  You didn’t need to say this was once this man’s notoriously cruel father’s office for Five to know you were trying to describe the room he was sitting in right now.

The male was sitting in the regal looking chair behind the desk, smug as ever as he stared at the girl. His cool, calculating eyes devoured the entire length of her legs while he slowly but deliberately pushed them apart at the knees, spreading them wide as she submissively sat on the desk in front of him.

Five’s breath hitched as that line and the images described in it played over and over in his head like a naughty ping pong ball.

That saucy passage was Five’s first indication that this story was not like the others and that what he was about to read was not going to be at all like what he’d read so far. 

This had turned into some kind of fictional love affair.

Itching heat started to crawl up Five’s neck once he reached the third paragraph and the first lines of dialogue were laid out with perfect effect.

With this male shamelessly observing that under her skirt, the girl was not wearing any panties, she grinned and playfully purred, “You can have me any way you want…”

From there, the two characters proceeded to take things to a place between them that Five had never considered until it was literally being spelled out for him.

As Five read on, parts of him were waking up that had nothing to do with his anger concerning you. The document he was reading was essentially like taking a very seductive trip inside your mind and maybe even more surprising, seeing something that was inside his. It was a firsthand description of how you really saw him, what you wanted from him, and maybe even more scandalously what you wanted to do to him.

Five was not familiar with this kind of writing and the only way he could describe it was explicit, with the descriptions of what was going on being detailed enough that he read the words with a slightly gapped mouth and a rapidly quickening pulse.

The previous files he’d read had focused on emotional and psychological themes, making the barefaced sexual purpose of this one all that much more of a shock. He had no idea you were attracted to him and found his appearance and flippantly dickish behavior so appealing.

If he’d thought you made no sense before, but now he was beyond baffled by you.

As the scene he read moved past him pleasuring you, on to your character kneeling down on the floor between his legs as he confidently opened his pants and he told you to get to work, Five took in a long, deep breath. He reactively moved his hand over the heat between his legs, his palm pressing down the hard length beginning to make itself known under the tightening stretch of fabric covering him.

In spite of his flawlessly pale skin, Five was typically not the type to blush, but by the time he was done reading your story, he felt like his face was on fire and his body was going to spontaneously combust. Unable to stop himself, Five began to more intently rub the aroused flesh hidden under the wool of his pants.

He started reading the story again, and he was so taken by it all that he didn’t hear you walking down the hall.

“Oh, there it is,” you said as you walked in and saw the back of your laptop sitting in front of the last person you had figured you see with it. To make it more bizarre, you didn’t remember leaving it in there and Five was looking at it with the most intense expression you’d ever seen grace his sharply expressive features.

With worry hitting you with the unforgiving force of a tanker truck, you rushed around the large piece of furniture separating you to see what had captured his attention so fully that he only just now looked up at you, finally registering that you were there.

With his hands flying up from his lap, Five tried to clear the screen.

Seeing the title to your very, very naughty story about him on the autosave line, you shrieked out a plethora of swear words, some which you just made up on the fly. Five was sure to have never heard some of your more imaginative curses prior to that moment, but you were pretty sure their meaning was not lost on him based on how he was backing away from you.

You slammed the laptop closed.  Then you covered your face with your hands and started pacing as you incoherently mumbled.

Through the cracks between your fingers, you could see that Five was clearly stunned by what had just transpired. He looked like his brain had stopped working, which was impressive since he was a proven genius.

Great. You broke the poor man and all it took was literarily getting your fuck on with him!

Then, instead of flipping out, to your surprise, Five said your name. It came out so soft and unsure and nothing like the way he normally spoke to you. It was the first time he’d ever acknowledged that he knew your name. You had thought that to him, you were just another nameless person they’d hired.

Hearing it, you dropped your hands, revealing a face so red that it only made your body’s less than desirable response accelerate even more, and then you got redder.

Not sure what to say, your next words burst from your mouth. “You must think I am a perverted weirdo! I swear I am not… It’s just…a silly hobby. I- I write things to get them out of my head and I always delete them. I wasn’t going to-"

You didn’t know how to explain yourself, so you squeezed your eyes shut rather than take another second of him sitting there, still as a statue, still staring at you in what you could only guess was horror.

If you weren’t sure that Five was gearing up to bite your head off and report you to the police, you’d almost think his own red-faced expression of distress was cute, but that was only if you didn’t know better. Under his boyish charm, there was a very dangerous man that was about to spring to life. That person had no interest or reason to show someone who’d invaded his privacy any mercy.

Trying to save your ass, you sputtered, “I never write stuff like that, it’s just… Shit. This is basically my worst nightmare. I am so sorry.”  You let out a broken sounding moan. You turned around, burying your face in your hands again. “Don’t worry, I am going. I will submit my resignation right away and I will delete that right now.”

Starting to cry, you moved to do just that but Five scared the hell out of you when he snatched your hand away and didn’t let go.

His eyes narrowed and your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. You tried yanking your hand back, but he held fast. “Stop!” he ordered, and you did, sort of. Your entire body trembled as you uselessly pulled, trying to get away. Reeling you back in to face him, Five calmly said, “You better not quit.”

What?

Had you heard him right?

God, he was close. You could feel the heat from his body and the warmth of his breath hitting your lips.

“Please stop crying,” he whispered.

You shook your head.

Undeterred by your inability to speak or to stop your sniffles, Five moved his hand to your waist and his penetrating eyes bore into yours making it impossible to look away. “That little story there…” 

He stopped speaking. Suddenly looking flustered he ran his hand back through his hair, rumpling it in the most adorable way. 

“You haven’t asked me what I thought about your writing?” he taunted, his voice so low and threatening sounding that you weren’t sure why your feet weren’t moving so you could high-tail it out of there.

Your reply came out as anxious sounding as you felt. “I don’t need to ask. I can tell by the way you are looking at me that you think I am nuts, and you hate me.”

Five drew in a deep breath, his eyes floating to the ceiling for a moment before he held your eye again and countered, “Well, if you think that, then you are right about the other things you wrote about me. I am a complete asshole and treat people like shit, but that is not my intent right now, despite my past and what my face says. You were very accurate and astute when it comes to nailing down who I really am, but perhaps when it comes to how I really feel about all this, and you, you shouldn’t be looking at my face.”

Before you could ask him what he meant by that, Five slid his arm around your waist, pulling your hips flush with his, and that forceful maneuver made it very clear what he thought about what you wrote.

Wiping your eyes as your heart raced, you muttered a very unintelligent sounding, “Oh.”

Five’s excruciatingly soft looking lips pulled up on one side, the look of it matching what you only now recognized in the sparking emerald of his shining eyes. There was a menacing level of mischief in him that was all the more strengthened by his burning arousal.

Confidently taking you by the wrist, Five led you back to the desk. Pressing you back against the unforgiving wood surface, directly between him and his chair as he said, “I am sorry I have been so…” His smile widened and you felt like you could melt from the sheer sight of his dimple deepening. “I have been so blind. You are right about everything you said about me.”

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you tried not to lose it over the way he was looking at you or the feel of his long fingers trailing up your thighs, not stopping until they were hidden just under the hem of your skirt where he let them settle.

Not sure what was happening, you shakily asked, “How much did you read?”

“All of it. Twice,” he blew across your lips as his teasingly hovered so close it was making you dizzy. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. Your writing is very good,” Five added as he flipped your hair aside and his mouth brushed with featherlight gentleness against your neck, making spiraling fireworks of tingles run up and down your spine.

You shut your eyes, feeling like you were having an outer body experience as Five placed tender but persistently more certain kisses along your throat and the shell of your ear. “You’re not mad?” you quietly asked, lost in his extremely loving touches.

Five’s fingers came up, moving a strand of hair from your forehead before those same fingertips tickled across your cheek then gripped your chin, forcing your face up next to his.

Your droopy eyes reactively flipped open.

“No. I am not mad,” he quietly responded, the comforting green of his eyes all but overtaken with the darkness of his growing lust. “I was mad at first and not just because you like to write stories about me. At first, I was hell bent on ending you for interfering in matters that don’t concern you. Pushing my family to choose such an inadequate name for our foundation was your crime and I was going to make you pay, but I see all that a little differently now. Funny how hearing a little truth done in the right way can make a very old, yet forever young fool see the light,” he finished with a chuckle that sounded so unbelievably charming coming from such a normally serious person.

“You don’t like the name, and you wanted to end me? That’s why you stole my laptop?”

Five laughed again. “Thanks to you, the name might be growing on me.” Ignoring your other questions he somewhat less assuredly said, “Is it true what you said about me… That part you wrote about how in the face of how much I lost, the fact that I never stopped fighting to change things for the better was the most admirable and important quality a person could have?”

“Yes. Of course I meant it.  You’re an example of what it means to be strong and not give up and that’s what these kids need, and that is why I suggested that name after hearing your brother Klaus ramble on for hours about your life and how wonderful you are. You are someone they can look up to and that name seemed like it spoke of the trials yet also many triumphs of your amazing life.” Seeing Five’s face light up and feeling brave, you cautiously added, “From what I hear, we are all lucky you never gave up and aren’t lost anymore. If not for you, there wouldn’t be a world left. We owe our life to you.”

Five looked down at the minimal space between you, his dark lashes fanning his beautifully flushed cheeks.

“That’s not necessarily true, and in many ways, I am still lost,” he admitted. “You were right, I push people away. I lack basic social skills and I have been way too much of an arrogant prick to own that, and for it, I am alone.” His smoldering eyes flipped back up. “But I don’t want that. I want someone that sees me the way you do and isn’t scared of who I really am.”

The slightest tic as his jaw tensed was the only sign that Five wasn’t as sure of himself as he appeared.  

“Are you scared of me?” he provocatively lured, almost as if he were baiting you.

You croaked back a very embarrassing sounding, “No.”

Looking like he loved that, Five excitedly asked, “Good, then will you let me show you how sorry I am for being a dick, and how much I appreciate you making me see all this in a new way? You are right. Nothing sticks it to my old man like making this place in name and purpose into something about giving people less fortunate a second chance. That is not what he’s about and using his name and things he knows are a jab at him is a perfect fuck you.”

That smile of Five’s that could explode a girl’s lady bits came out to play again and with it his hand ran down your back, gripping you by hard on the ass.

“Since you seemed to like the idea of it, and you haven’t kicked me in the balls yet, will you give me a chance to make your fiction come to life?”  he courteously questioned, though none of this conversation had anything to do with any form of normal social decorum.

As his words hit home, Five quirked a dark brow at you, and again, ever so subtly, he let you get a feel of his desire as he trapped your body between his and the desk.

“What I lack in experience, I tend to make up with determination and my ability to quickly learn even the most complex concepts and tasks,” he added hopefully.

Squirming a little, your eyes flit over the contours of Five’s face as you tried to imagine the older man that he really was, but like usual, you could only nail that part of him down in the unnaturally assured way he held himself. Like it had from the first time you laid eyes on him, the paradox that was Five Hargreeves only made you want him more.

“I could let you do that…” you flirtatiously dangled, “as long as you aren’t planning on ending me still. Being all scary like you are is hot and all, but the threats against my life and livelihood are sort of a lady boner kill.”

Letting out another laugh that you could hardly believe you were hearing coming from him, Five nodded. “You aren’t going anywhere, sweetheart. Not until I give us both a happy ending and I don’t mean that kind of ending,” he growled just before his lips crashed against yours and his hand moved behind your neck, locking you to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

⚠️This concludes the PG 13 ending option. Go on if you want the explicit ending option.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five’s kiss took your breath away. His tongue pushed inside your mouth as he searched for more.

His kiss was perfectly unpracticed, warm and innocent.

The feel of him letting himself go in this way had you securing your legs around his backside, encouraging him to take even more, which he did, urging your bottom up onto the desk where he held you on the edge.

The protrusion of Five’s erect cock jabbed into your abdomen as he thrust himself against you as if he was already fucking you. “Fuck, I fucking want you,” he wetly gasped as he let your mouth go, only to assault your neck and then your collarbone with nips and needy kisses that were sure to leave their mark.

With his sucking and well timed bites, he was hitting all your most sensitive spots, and you knew without asking that he’d learned just what to do to drive you wild from what he’d just read. As your head dropped back and your eyes closed, you couldn’t believe that a story that was never meant for his eyes had accidentally stoked this passion in him and had now come to this.

Feeling his hand moving higher under your skirt, you let out a huffy little moan, followed by a whining sound. With a smile, Five looked up, looking first at your puffy lips and then your glossy eyes as if something had just occurred to him.

As you were trying to figure out why he’d stopped, he leaned into your ear, softly speaking something in another language. “Sei così bella. Voglio conoscere ogni parte di te ed essere tutto ciò che pensi che io sia..”  (You are so beautiful. I want to know every part of you and be all the things you think I am.)

As Five moved along, kissing your jaw, you didn’t even get to ask what he’d said before his fingers were dropping down over your underwear.

“Well, well, well…” he tutted. “You aren’t supposed to be wearing these.” With that, Five remedied that deviation from your story, flipping your legs together and then tugging your panties down so he could stuff them in his back pocket.

His lips brushed yours and you trembled from that as well as the sensation of his fingers coming at you back and forth. They were gliding between your folds as he gauged your reactions to his explorations with a look of devoted persistence that proved he wasn’t kidding when he said he was all about learning the best way to please you. 

Soon Five had you making sounds that were somewhere between pathetic whimpers and pleas for more. Then with no warning, he pushed two fingers inside you, and half mad, your mind spiraled into chaos ad he crooked the digits upwards. He worked them in and out with an intensity that was bordering on too much and your body spasmed around him, your legs at his backside clenching him tighter before going limp as you cried out his name.

Five smiled with satisfaction, pulling back just a little to watch your chest heaving and your body writhe.

“That’s it, honey, only next time I want the entire city to know I am fucking you,” he smugly informed before diving back in to kiss you again, all the while his long fingers never stopped dragging out every last tremor of your release.

Even in your state of bliss you could tell that Five was trying and failing to one-handedly undo his belt. Softly pushing him back, you weren’t sure he was going to relent but when he did, he looked humorously desperate.

“Wait you breathed. You can have me as many times as you want and in any way you want, but first there’s something I’ve been dying to do to you.”

That perked Five’s attention.

You pulled your lip between your teeth for only a moment before you pounced on him, your humiliation from earlier now nothing more than an afterthought as you pushed Five back and down into his chair. His vest buttons were your first target, and you relished the feeling of Five straining as you took control and your hands worked, unpackaging him.

Next, the shiny little buttons on his dress shirt popped open, one-by-one.

Once done, you ran your hands across Five’s exposed upper body, loving how firm and smooth his skin was. The contours of his leanly defined abs made him look like some kind of sex God. The very fine trail of dark hair leading from his belly button down, along with the ‘V’ shaped arrow of his muscle leading into his pants, were a sight to behold on their own but they were also drawing your attention to another intriguing a part of him that you could already tell was plenty more than average sized.

Not one to be outdone, while you were checking him out, Five suddenly reached up and ripped your blouse open, making it your second clothing casualty if you counted your underpants that he’d stolen.

His voice was barely more than a whisper but this time you were pretty sure you knew what the single word he spoke meant.

“Perfetta.” (Perfect.)

As your mouth moved to his, he shot forward to meet you, but Five was still mostly letting you have your way with him as you finished undoing his pants and pulled them open so you could fish him out of the thin cotton restraining him.

“My turn,” you warned before coming back to Five’s awaiting mouth, your kiss muffling his groan as your hand pumped his hard length, testing him and finding him deliciously responsive and dripping with pre-cum.

You saw a tinge of madness in his gaze as your thumb circled, teasing the slit of skin and the ridge surrounding the underside of his tip. Your adoring kisses moved down his neck, cherishing every curve and dip of his flesh as he swallowed down what you could only assume was how much he wanted to move this along.

One more kiss, your tongue tracing along his teeth before you sucked at his bottom lip and another spark of need had him pushing down on the armrests so he could better rock his shaft up into your hand even more than he already was.

Five’s thoughts came out in a rush of disjointed words. “Plea- Please. Oh, fuck yes,” he grunted and gasped. 

His chocolatey brown hair fell in his eyes, but it didn’t matter because they were closed so beautifully in his state of total surrender. 

“I have waited so long to have this,” he groaned as you jerked him harder and faster.

“And you’ve waited long enough,” you whispered against his lips before slipping lower, kissing his jaw and quivering stomach muscles along the way as you moved down between his legs.

As your mouth found him, you could only hope that Five felt truly young and free as he looked. You meant it in your story when you said that he deserved this and so much more.

You took him in, letting him push down your throat until it was too much, but even then you fought to hold your mouth around him, encasing his throbbing cock with hollowed cheeks and the flat of your tongue.

You knew you’d given him some form of peace when he anxiously reached back, tugging at his own hair. A warmth started filling your mouth, not stopping as you swallowed the flood of his seed down. His eyes sprung wide, and his mouth dropped open, a guttural sound flying from his lips as his head fell back helplessly against the upholstered chair.  

You knew right then; you’d never forget that beautiful look on his face or the beautiful sounds he’d made. But more than that, you’d never forget the way Five made you feel when he looked at you.

You weren’t one-hundred percent sure that he had never been with a woman like this, but it had been strongly hinted by his brother that may have been the case. Just the fact that he trusted you to be his first brought a whole new depth to this moment. It was so empowering, it felt like pure energy was running through your veins.

Of all people, Five had chosen you.

Through his soft panting, Five looked all sorts of delirious, slouching in his father’s grand chair, with his clothes askew and his dick in your hand as you gave him a few final licks and proceeded to stretch your jaw and shyly smile up at him. Not about to let the fun end, you crawled up in his lap, letting your legs fall through the armrests at his sides so you were straddling him.

Five’s eyes fluttered open and closed as his hands gripped your hips and he gave you a little bounce on his knees. He smiled so happily and sleepily it made your heart skip a beat. Then he said, “Ready for round two, gorgeous?”

“Are you,” you teased, letting your fingers weave together around the backside of his neck as you leaned back so you could admire him in all his post organism, messy haired glory.

“Not yet, but I will be soon,” Five replied and he clearly meant it too. He was still partially hard, and by the way he had just started rubbing your tits and looked totally enthralled with how they were hardening for him, you were pretty sure that with a little more educational exploration of your body it wouldn’t take him long to be ready to go again.

“Five,” you breathed as he plucked and teased your nipples.

“Hmmm,” he sweetly hummed as his mouth found one, sucking on it with increasing pressure until you squeaked, so he resorted again to softly groping and nipping instead.

“What did you say to me before?” you questioned while still recovering from that.

“I asked you to go on a date with me after we finish this little reenactment of yours,” he replied, his words slow and thick. “I need an older woman like you to show me the way of the world and keep me in line and nothing would make me happier than to take you to dinner tonight and tomorrow night and...”

Oh my God.

Gone was the jerk you’d been walking on pins and needles around, and here was a man pouring out his heart to you though you hardly knew each other. To add to your dismay, you could tell he at least partially was lying. There’s no way Five had said all of that while glammering you with his ability to speak in seductive sounding languages. His arrogant little smirk as he lied only added to his power over you, yet you found that all you wanted was to kiss it right off his pretty lying face.

“Well, is it a plan? Will you go on a date with me?” he pushed, while also pushing his hardening shaft into the hand that you had been using to leisurely stroke him.

You laughed at the absurdity of the situation you’d gotten yourself into. The age differences you were dealing with were complicated to say the least, not to mention that you’d already messed up how normal people went about starting this kind of thing.

Doing your best pouty face, you pretended to be offended. “I am not older than you. Not really”

“No, you are not,” he agreed then frowned too and just like that, you wanted to do anything in your power to make him smile again.

Leaning in, you gave Five the softest, most chaste kiss you could.

“I take that as a yes to both aforementioned questions,” he mumbled, not even breaking your kiss as his arms fastened around you and he started lifting you both out of the chair.

Not stopping, in a matter of seconds, Five had you repositioned on top of the desk with his body lined up between your legs.

With his dick in hand, Five didn’t look at all embarrassed as he jerked himself off as he patiently waited for your answer.

This man had said he wasn’t going to end you but right then you knew he was ruin you for anyone else.

“Yes to both,” you frantically gulped, to which Five instantly started swiping his cockhead across your slicked wet entrance.

 “Ohhh, fuu-ah-auck!” he moaned as he sank forward and your body stretched and clenched around him with each slow dip inside you that he took.

Biting down your own much higher pitched curse, your fingernails went up under his shirt, stripping it and his vest off.

As Five’s entire length disappeared all the way inside you your body folded around him.

You saw stars and Five also looked perfectly shattered by what he must have been feeling and seeing.

Clinging to him, your fingers dug into his back and he carefully began to roll his hips, fucking you deeply at first, only switching to full and more abrupt thrusts the more your body accepted him.    

It was as things were starting to really get moving that Luther walked in.

 “Hey, Five?” he started to question before he saw you and what Five was doing to you and then let out a very startled sounding, “Oh SHIT!”

You were already trying to cover breasts but Five didn’t seem concerned about it at all. With hardly a look up over your shoulder, with his cock still slamming into your cunt as he bucked his strong hips, hitting you just right, he roughly grunted out, “I. Smell. Something. Burning. Arrr-you trying to think again, Luther?”

Five’s larger than life brother was floundering, the heels of his shoes clumsily moving backwards before he ran into the wall.

“I urrr-umm… I felt bad. I mean, we felt bad,” he frantically rambled. “I was coming back to see if you were feeling any better about the naming thing. We can go with your idea if you really want and…and we were hoping you changed your mind about coming out to the karaoke bar with us and…shit. This is awkward!”

Still using your legs for leverage as he fucked you as hard as he could, looking up with a goofy smile you’d never seen him make as he casually blew his hair out of his face, Five spoke as if nothing was amiss at all. “I love the ‘Hargreeves Home for Wayward Boys’ name. It’s perfect, just like my smart lady right here said it was, but really Luther… No shit this is awkward for you! Get the fuck out. Can’t you see that I’m a little busy?”

As your body started to tense and then fall into quaking vibrations of uncoiling heat all compounded by flaming embarrassment, just then, Ben rounded the corner, letting out a cynical sounding laugh as his hand flew over his mouth then came down slapping his leg instead. 

“Come on, big guy. Looks like this isn’t the time for a family chat,” he said, guiding his frozen brother out of the room.

Alone again, you were somewhere between orgasmic bliss and an odd sort of mortification filled with the feeling that nothing really mattered but the man whose head had fallen against your chest as he started to spill inside you while muttering praises that made your heart feel like it might burst.

This was nuts. All of this was. But somehow, it made sense. It was perfect and you couldn’t have written it happening any better.

Somehow, with Five and his crazy family, you knew things would always be unexpected and extraordinary, but you were ready for it. The once broken but not beaten wayward boy was proving he was far from giving up and he didn’t need special powers to make your wildest dreams come true. He just needed to be the person he'd always been.

Thanks for reading, lovies. ❤️

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Link to my master list page

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#number five x you #number five x reader #five x reader #five x you #number five fanfiction #number five smut #number five #number five fanart #kaybreezy-on-a03 #number 5 #five hargreeves fanfiction #tua fanfiction #five hargreeves #five hargreeves fanart #smut and fluff #smut with plot #reader insert #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy fanfiction

[coffee--writes]

Graceland Too

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Mentions of Abuse, Violence, and Drug Use (Not by Reader or Five)

A/N: This is inspired by Graceland Too by Phoebe Bridgers. The lyrics are italicized!

Summary: Five Hargreeves embarks on a mission with you, a Commission mystery.

Five Hargreeves had not been there when you arrived with scars on your skin and your lips in a thin line. 

Although he hadn’t been there, he had heard all the stories. 

You were a Commission daydream. You were hard as steel. Took orders without a second thought. No one ever broke through that stony exterior of yours, something the two of you had in common. But that didn’t stop the stories from getting around. That day you showed up scarred and cold, you had been running from something. Abusive family, violent parents, constantly cracked up or hungover. No food on the table, barely a warm sheet to cover you at night. You had been in and out of depression. In and out of your mind. 

Then one night, things changed. 

The night you decided you were no longer a danger to yourself or others. 

You made up your mind that night, the night your parents didn’t show. You laced up your shoes, yelled down the hall of your crumbling apartment building. Nobody answered. So you walked outside without an excuse to stay. That night, as you stumbled through city streets, starving, thirsty, bruised, defeated… the Commission saved you. 

You were everything they could’ve wanted. A clean shot of an assassin, a hardened soldier loyal to its infantry. You spoke little. Friends were out of the picture. Another thing, you and him had in common. But one thing was never doubted , that you could do anything you wanted to. One of the highest kill counts, most assignments completed, employee of the year. 

A Commission daydream. 

Your story was infamous. It was one Five Hargreeves resonated with, admired. After all, his family had never been the definition of functional but at least he had had people to call home. Your story ran through his head as he stood outside the Handler’s office listening to your voice, quiet but firm. Your voice never raised and he wondered how you did it. He was indulgent to his anger. It was the driving force behind every kill, every shot. But even as you argued, the Handler’s voice becoming increasingly frustrated, yours never raised, not a decibel. 

The result of the argument over this particular assignment had ended in your favor. Not a shock, you could do whatever you wanted to do. A high-end assignment could easily be won in your favor. What was a shock was you approaching Five, paper in hand. 

“Boss says I’ve got to have a partner for this one.” you state blankly, sliding the paper across the lunch table to him. “How about it, Hargreeves?” 

He blinked, reading the paper, glancing up at you. Another thing Five knew about you, you could go home. The Commission had signed off on it, the works and all. But no, you stayed. Dedicated as ever before. The thought ran through his head, your eyes glared into his. You could go home, but you weren’t going to. 

He didn’t know what prompted him to state a firm, “Sure”. Maybe it was the cold, blank stare in your eyes. Maybe it was the quite beautiful, stoic impression you had. Like the marble of a Greek statue, depicting some tragic tall tale. But whatever it was, it earned him a delicate smile. “Thanks.” you replied, leaving him wondering what on Earth he had gotten himself into. 

—— 

Traveling with you, he learned you weren’t all you were made out to be. 

Sure, the quiet, cold exterior was still there. But upon first glance, he noticed the slight care you put into things. The way you packed two mugs of coffee as opposed to just one. Not a word said but the action said enough. The way you meticulously packed each and every item you brought, making sure to extend the same courtesy to his belongings. 

Small things really, but it said enough. 

So you picked a direction, foot pressing down on the gas pedal of the 1977 Ford F-150 you had chosen out of a random parking lot. You were going 90 in Memphis, turning up the music. An old Van Morrison song, he could recognize the voice. It reminded him of his sister. 

“Why so loud?” he ventured to ask. 

Your eyes never left the road. “So thoughts don’t intrude.” 

He blinked, not sure of what to say. You raised the coffee mug to your lips and he was once again reminded of the one you had brought for him. It raised a curious thought in his head. “Not an easy thing to just not think.” he remarked. 

You glanced at him, almost as though you were taking him in. “I’ve managed.” you said plainly. A moment of silence went by. “Although, I will say Hargreeves you’re making it quite difficult to not think of anything with all your yapping.” 

He chuckled, eyes peeled towards the rising sun. “Well what are you thinking about now that I’ve disturbed your peace of mind.” 

Your lips turned up slightly, almost sadly although it was a smile. “Predictably, I wound up thinking of Elvis.” you chuckle softly. It was the first time he had heard you laugh. It was a nice sound, comforting almost. Somehow reminded him of home. 

“Why Elvis?” he asked, a slight smile coming to his face. 

You took one hand off the wheel, shrugging. “Mom always had it on the few times she was around.” you remarked. He noticed the way your lips curved as you spoke. The one small notation of emotion in your face, the one thing that gave you away. “Plus I wonder if he believes songs could come true.” 

Five’s brows furrow. Your hand drums on the middle compartment of the truck. “Well, he spouts all this bullshit about love. Shit, he made a career off of it. But does the man actually believe in it? Love?” 

“I don’t know.” he commented. “I mean I don’t think you have to believe in something to sing about it. There are thousands of others who wrote about it so I’m sure he had plenty of background to work with.” 

You scoffed. “Well, then that would be plenty sad. I’m usually a cynic but I’d like to believe the man who wrote some of the most notable love songs the world’s known to have believed in it himself.” 

“We’re in a world full of copycats and unoriginal imbeciles. The chances that Elvis believed in love songs is slim.” 

At that you gave a laugh, a full bellied laugh. He looked up quizzically. Your face scrunched up as you did. The marble statue seemed to have melted into a beautiful glaze of colors. Five delighted in it. The fact that he had made your statue slightly crack and crumble. You had done the same to him, if he were being honest. 

“And I thought I was the cynic.” you smirked, cheeks lifting ever so slightly. You sigh, looking at the sunrise with a sense of warmth. A nostalgic pull in your eyes. “All I’m saying is I’m asking for it if they do. Those love songs, I mean.” 

Five nodded briefly, his eyes also glancing out at the sun. 

“Have you ever loved someone like that?” 

“No… have you?” 

��No.” 

The silence lay steady as you went ninety in Memphis. 

—— 

The two of you stopped at a 7-Eleven, dead of night. The bright fluorescent lights blinked as you walked through, taking a grab at the edible things that stuck out to you. When the two of you arrived at the register, your hand moved to your pocket. A ten and a five folded up nicely. There you were again, doing the thing he got such a mental kick out of. He had come prepared but it hadn’t even occurred to you to ask him for money. 

You handed the cash to the man at the register, the same stony expression on your face. 

A beautiful thin line. 

There you were, paying for his things. If it were anyone else, he would’ve rejected this action. He would’ve seen it as a one up, a power dynamic, a petty maneuver. But with you, he realized it seemed to be your nature. There was a gentle nurturing you hid beneath your surface. 

Five desperately wanted to know more. 

You sat at a shitty table, wobbly with faded seats. You bit into a burger, silence hanging in the air almost peacefully as it always seemed to do with you. He looked down at his coffee and bagel. “Why’d you take this?” he asked quietly. “I mean… this assignment.” 

You blinked, eyes vacant and blank. It was as though you were conjuring an answer to that yourself. As if, you still didn’t know the answer to it yourself. He was slowly beginning to realize that maybe you didn’t know what you wanted. 

Your composure slacked, putting down your burger. “Better than nothing.” you responded, taking a sip of coffee. “This is my job. Might as well take the interesting ones.” 

The lights seemed to blink with the slow pace of his heart. He took a bite of his bagel. “What are you going to do… after this is all over?” 

You frown, as though the next thing that you were going to say would make you sad. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” 

He took a quiet sip of his coffee. “Me neither.” 

The silence lay peacefully thick once more. 

You were a rebel without a clue.

——- 

Traveling with you only made Five more enamored with your presence. 

You were gentle. Quite the opposite of him, actually. Sure, both of you were statues, cracked and slightly damaged, depicting a long life of sorrow. But you had a gentle warmth beneath the surface which Five rejoiced in. 

The truck was filled with music as you went along. Sometimes you talked, other times you didn’t. You were there though. Present, in the moment. You pulled him back to Earth when his head seemed to wander off. You were deep, intellectual, interesting. 

All the little things you did only made him admire you more. The way you quietly filled the gas tank. The way you flipped the pages of your book when he drove. The cadence of your voice, the vocabulary you used. The sad peaceful look on your face after a clean shot, the way your finger rested on the trigger. 

A peaceful kind of falling. 

One night, the two of you stopped at a motel. The night was dark, the stars shining brightly over an Alabama sky. Two beds, a small television that played old reruns of fifties sitcoms. “This is oddly nostalgic.” you commented. “Reminds me of home.” 

It was one of the rare times you talked of home. He smiled softly. “Reminds me of home too… Maybe we can make the most of it.” 

That night, you spent what was left of your serotonin. The motel door lay wide open, the laugh track on the television muffled as you sat on the second floor balcony. Both your backs lay stiff against the brick wall. 

Five looked over at you, and you were gorgeous. 

You chewed on your cheek and stared at the moon. “Hargreeves, I’ve got a confession.” 

He blinked, looking over at you. The moonlight seemed to illuminate your graceful features. “What’s that?’ 

“I know I lived through it, all that pain… I lived through it to get to this moment.”

“This mission?” 

You nodded. “With you.” 

Five paused, his breath seemed to hitch in his throat. You glanced over at him. “I’ve got to say… I kinda like you, Hargreeves.” 

He didn’t know words could mean so much. They were simple, short, barely a sentence. But you had said them and he knew from even the brief conversations with you, that you said what you meant. His lips upturned slightly, not enough to give him away. “I kinda like you too.” 

Silence ensued. Five had a handful of grapes in his hand. You ate a sleeve of saltines on the floor. No proof of anything, not much said. But what was said was enough. In that moment, Five knew: he would do anything you wanted to. 

You didn’t demand much. Maybe that was how people realized they would do anything for someone. Because they wouldn’t demand something irrational for them? Maybe that’s what made the few irrational demands doable? He realized he would do anything for you. 

Whatever you want. 

You looked over at him, a slight smile. “I Love Lucy marathon?” 

He couldn’t drag his eyes away from your face. 

“Whatever you want.”

… 

Whatever you want. 

——

No tags except @olive-recs because i literally don’t know if any of my other mutuals are active 🕺

#five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five imagine #five x reader #five headcanons #five headcanon #number five #five hargreeves headcanons #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves #tua x reader #tua fanfiction #tua headcanon #tua fanfic #the umbrella academy masterlist

[redpool]

You know what I need, I need a good Umbrella Academy fic where Klaus has someone he can rely on. Someone who believes him. Someone who looks after him. Someone who genuinely cares about him. I'd prefer if the OC was a woman. I'd prefer it even more if the OC was his best friend.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy fanfic #the umbrella academy fanfiction #klaus hargreeves #tua #tua x reader #tua fanfiction #tua fic

[salvador-daley]

Dead Sexy 💀😵🩵 Updated!

An Umbrella Academy AU feat. Pathologist!Dave + MorgueRegular!Klaus

A/N: Yo! This fic just hit 50 subscribers so I figured I should probably update it. 😬 Apologies for being the world’s slowest writer. I humbly offer this chapter as restitution for my tardiness. If you like it, please leave me a comment. If you don’t, well, just keep that shit to yourself. 😘

Summary: Dave is a pathologist working at the city morgue. And Klaus… well, Klaus just keeps turning up.

Snippet from Chapter 4:

It sometimes takes a little while to rouse him. A breakfast burrito waved under his nose (Dave has started buying an extra one during his Monday morning commute) normally does the trick.

But then eventually Klaus’ eyes will blink awake and he’ll be back on the mortal plane; yawning, stretching, scratching and subjecting Dave to more of his incorrigible flirting.

It’s strange, really, how quickly they’ve fallen into a kind of routine.

Klaus exhausts the supply of wearable items amid the sparse and ancient offerings of the lost and found box during his first few visits. Dave invests in a multipack of cheap white t-shirts and picks up a dozen pairs of sweatpants and some worn shoes from goodwill so that he can at least provide Klaus with something halfway decent to walk home in.

Not that Klaus always turns up naked; he doesn’t. Sometimes Dave will unzip the bag to find the guy still wearing the outfit in which he met his end: a leather gimp suit with straws poking through the nostril-holes (breathplay accident at an orgy), rainbow ice skates (pond not fully frozen), purple parachute pants (parachute not included).

The more Dave learns about Klaus, the more of a mystery he becomes. He doesn’t appear to have a permanent address, but then never seems to be strictly homeless either. Klaus apparently exists in a perpetual state of couch surfing and bed-hopping - without any shortage of couches to surf and beds to hop into.

Klaus’ sexual exploits are one of his favourite topics, the stories all delivered with a nonchalant hand wave but punctuated with a knowing glimmer of the eyes, as if told purely for Dave’s benefit.

Dave would never admit that he occasionally feels the prickly fangs of something green-eyed when Klaus is sat cross-legged on the autopsy table, delivering yet another tale of naked debauchery. But he does sometimes give Klaus the smaller burrito as a form of punishment.

Read the rest on AO3

Tagging because you haven’t told me to stop: @badsext @yeah-klave @softforklave @anglophile-rin @falloutby @merry-melody @neist @purblzart @maerenee930 @firstpersonnarrator @super-unpredictable98 @wcrmboy @spookyfbi @squishitude @courtneytarynofficial @mokolataddict @pickledbeefwastaken @love-is-dirty-baby @jender123 @vonkimmeren @narnianaos @sylvertyger @merrilark @faceache111 @rob-private @pietro-t1me @not-oscar-wilde @thislovelylife @falafel14 @allisoooon @kawaiic0mmunism

#robert sheehan #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #tua #umbrella academy #klaus umbrella academy #rob sheehan #tua fic #klave #klaus x dave #klaus and dave #dailytua #klaus Hargreeves x Dave katz #dave katz #cody ray thompson #tua fanfic #tua fandom #tua fanfiction #tua netflix #tua klaus #klaus tua #klaus Hargreeves fic #klaus Hargreeves fanfic #klaus & dave #umbrella academy klaus #umbrella academy fanfic #umbrella academy fic

[anangelwhodidntfall]

Head Rubs & Naps: Diego Hargreeves

The Umbrella Academy Masterlist

word count: 600

description: There are very few who Diego can be his true self around and luckily your one of them.

You sat on the couch reading your Che Guevara book as the sounds of Nirvana played softly in the background when the front door to your apartment opened and closed. A few seconds later you saw your boyfriend Diego enter the living room making you smile.

"Hi my love, how was work?" You asked looking up at him.

"It was exhausting, but I'm glad to be home with you finally." He said laying down and placing a kiss on your lips and taking a seat on the couch.

"I don't know why you do this every time but go change because you'll end up falling asleep and then complain in the morning that you were uncomfortable." You said making him groan.

"But babe..." He whined making you laugh.

"Fine don't do it, I'll just take my head rubs somewhere else." You said shifting yourself so he could no longer lay on you.

"You wouldn't dare." He said.

"Try me." You threatened fighting a smile.

"Fine." He said standing up and stomping to your guy's shared room.

You went back to reading your book and a few minutes later you heard him approaching the living room making you look up. Instead of usual leather getup, he now wore a pair of pajama pants and a tank top.

"Better?" You teased.

"I hate when your right." He mumbled as he climbed on the couch and laid between your legs.

"Hmm I'm sure you do." You mused as your started running your hair through his hair and gently messaging his scalp.

"Is this the unplugged album?" He asked as Lake Of Fire played through the speakers.

"Yeah it is, do you want me to turn it off?" You asked him.

"No I like it, this is just my first time hearing it." He said snuggling into you.

"Hey love, do you think you could read to me until I fall asleep?" He asked you.

"Of course I can." You said.

You started reading the next page of your book to him as you ran your other hand through his hair. After reading a few pages, you looked down and saw he sound asleep with made you smile.

"Get some rest my love." You said leaning down and placing a kiss on his forehead before going back to your book.

About thirty minutes later you felt yourself start getting sleepy so you bookmarked your page and set it on the table before shifting a bit so you could get comfortable.

"You know we should just go to the bedroom, if your tired." Diego mumbled.

"Sorry I didn't mean to wake you up." You said feeling bad that you woke him up.

"It's okay, let's go to our room and get some proper sleep where you can be comfortable." He said standing up and picking you up.

"But I was enjoying have you laid on me like an octopus." You said.

"We'll know you can be the octopus and lay on me." He said gently setting you on the bed as he closed the curtains and climbed into bed.

"Now come here octopus." He said making you laugh as you crawled into his arms and got comfortable.

"You know I love you right?" He asked running a hand through your hair.

"As long as you know I love you." You said sleepily.

#diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x you #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves fanfiction #diego hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy x #tua fanfiction

[sissytobitch10seconds]

Seventeen Years

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy Summary: Five finds something in the back of his closet. Warnings: Canon trauma and PTSD Word Count: 1,014 Ship(s): Five Hargreeves & The Umbrella Academy

Archive link!

A/N: So I got this off of a tumblr post I saw from @frozenwafflesagain and she very graciously allowed me to write a fanfiction about it! I just got this idea of Five in my head and then it wouldn't leave me alone. I hope that you all enjoy this little drabble and please remember, like all these fics, there's no editing! Thank you all for reading. Stay sissy and bitchy everyone <3

Five was sticky with blood as he stomped into his bedroom. He was pissed that he had to change again after trying so hard to just get what he needed figured out done so he could move onto the next step of his self-assigned plan. He didn’t want the Commission sticking their nose where it didn’t belong and yet they just couldn’t seem to help themselves.

He rucked off the vest and tossed in vaguely in the direction of his hamper as he made his way over to the wardrobe. He threw open the doors so that he could get another one of the infernal uniforms that he had had to wear now because it was the only thing he could find that would fit him. They were still hanging there like they had been a few hours prior, pressed and perfectly stitched by the robotic hand of their mother.

He grabbed one of them from the hanger, yanking it forward with the kind of petulant attitude that could only be created by an adolescent body and brain that was pumped full of hormones it didn’t understand yet. The anger that boiled inside of him was almost indescribable as he realized that he was yanking without it coming anywhere because it was stuck.

He threw the hanger down onto the ground and then dug into the back of his wardrobe to figure out what it was that was preventing him to get ready for his mission this time. He paused when he caught sight of the first shimmery piece of paper though, his hand fluttering in the air.

Five reached down and carefully picked up the item that the pantleg had been stuck on, settling back on his haunches. He lowered the box down into his lap as he processed what it was.

The wrapping paper was folded with perfect creases and the ribbon was still curled, though he could see where the scissors had caught on an uneven polymer. The little tag hanging off of the center where the ribbon met together underneath a bow said: To 5, From 2

This was purchased from before Diego had chosen, he realized as the air was stollen from his lungs. This was the present that he was supposed to get when they turned fourteen, the first October that he had spent in the apocalypse. 

He collapsed on the baseboard of his wardrobe, pushing some of his shoes aside in the process so that he could fit. His fingers slipped underneath the tape that held the wrapping paper together, which was holding only because it had been shut out from the outside world for nearly seventeen years.

Inside was a plain looking book. When Five flipped it open, he saw that it was full of high quality graph paper that was all completely unmarked. The bottom even held a couple of lines in a square where notes about the day the equations were made and what they were could be written.

He turned around so that he was looking back into his wardrobe and noticed several more presents laid out. There were far more than there should have been for just the one year that he had been gone, but they were all wrapped with the signature traits that his siblings always wrapped things with and untouched.

He pulled them all out of the stack that they had been left in and tore them all open one by one. His arms couldn’t move fast enough as he reached for each new box and bag.

He didn’t notice the way that the pads of his fingers hurt from prying open taped shut cardboard boxes or running his fingers over the wrapping ribbon to get them off when he couldn’t figure out where they had been taped down. He didn’t notice the way that sobs forced their way out of his throat and into the open air of his ever unchanging bedroom with each gift that he pulled out and opened. He didn’t notice the way that tears streaked down his face and stained the front of a stuffed bear holding a knife or the front of a book by his favorite philosopher.

By the time that he finished opening each of the gifts that he had been squirreled away in the back of his closet, he had a mountain of wrapping paper, bows, ribbons, and tissue paper next to him along with an assortment of gifts to go along with them. There was a good deal of nice notebooks, ranging from the graph paper one he had opened from Diego to a set of six spiral bound ones in each of the siblings’ favorite colors. There was a handful of stuffed animals that were all strange enough that Five would have found them amusing enough to keep around. There was a set of beautiful fountain pens, as well as a thick block of chalk that he could use on his walls. He also had several books full of his favorite type of stories and studies, something that his siblings all knew he would enjoy.

They had intended to give him these gifts when he came back. They had been counting on the fact that he was still out there somewhere, waiting to make a big entrance and prove their father wrong. They had wanted him back every single birthday that they had lived at the house. That much he knew without reading the books. The existence of the books in general was enough to strip him of all the weariness that the apocalypse had caused him to gain, to make him feel rubbed raw. 

He loved his siblings more than the entire world. He had dedicated his entire life to getting back to them so that he could save them, after all. They had all seemed so apathetic and wary towards him when he came back that he had resigned himself to doing it without their help or support. After finding this cache of love and loyalty, though, one thing was perfectly clear.

They had missed him.

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #ao3 #archive of our own #tua #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #number five #the boy #tua fanfiction #the umbrella academy fanfiction #five hargreeves angst #tua s1 #five hargreeves whump #short #oneshot

[sonder-writes]

there's way too many people in this. anyway! this is my cover for my fanfic Settling In

fic summary: The Umbrella Academy are in a new timeline now and they have to navigate not having their powers (and losing other things too), newfound lost love interests, dopplegängers, and Reginald's stash of marigold.

#this took longer than I thought it would and I just wanted to publish the next chapter but I had to finish this first 😭 #tua #the umbrella academy #tua fanfic #tua fic #fanfiction #klaus hargreeves #dave katz #diego hargreeves #lila pitts #allison hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #raymond chestnut #ben hargreeves #five hargreeves #luther hargreeves #tua fanfiction #tua fanart #umbrella academy fanart

[weirdmorefics]

May I request something where reader and rest of the Hargreeves siblings hugging Five at the verge of the apocalypse? I saw someone say that sort of idea and honestly Five just deserves the love. Hope ur having a great day!

A/N- I wasn't sure which apocalypse lol. So I just went with season one hope that is okay.

We, Will, Be Okay

x sibling reader

Warnings- Spoilers for the end of season one and beginning of season three

Pronouns- They/Them

Word Count- 678

Summary- You all go to confront Viktor as he is now the White Violin and things do not go as planned.

I wish I could have been there for Viktor when he needed me we all should have been there for each other but we were all preoccupied with our own tiny lives. We should have been fighting to save the world we never should have stopped. You know what we should have never left Viktor out our whole childhood anyway! Why would we listen to some old man who adopted us purely for our powers?

 All these are thoughts that flash through my mind as I feel the life drain out of me. I am frozen metaphorically and literally as I am trapped in the sky by Viktor's powers with my other siblings. I can see my siblings out of the corner of my eye their faces are a sickly grey and I am really concerned that this is how we will die. Just a bunch of bickering siblings who should have listened to our brother.

One second I am paralyzed, there is a gunshot, and we are all back on the ground. We all rush to Allison and Viktor as quickly as we can. 

“I-is he still alive?” I asked feeling my heart drop as Allison cradles him and nods.

I smile widely as tears start to form in my eyes. Everyone lets out a sigh of relief that I think we have all been holding in since Luther locked up Viktor. Diego had to confirm out loud that we saved the world and we all smiled and laughed. That was until Klaus turned around and stood up pointing at the piece of Moon that was hurtling towards Earth.

“That is not good,” Luther says aloud.

I of course turn to Luther with a glare, “No shit Sherlock.”

Klaus sighs, “So much for saving the world.”

“If only Sir Reginald could see us now. The Umbrella Academy, a failure,” Diego groans.

Luther tries to console us by saying, “At least we are together.” But I can tell we are all still defeated.

Five seems to be pacing this whole conversation and finally jumps in, “This doesn’t have to be the end! I might have a way out of this but you have to trust me.”

My siblings all shrug Five off but I refuse for this to be the end. We can’t let Viktor done again. “What’s your plan Five?”

“I can time travel but this time I take all of you with me,” he responds.

I nod immediately “ I’m in!”

“Hey what's the worst that can happen” Diego shrugs.

“Well, you could end up stuck in a twelve year olds body,” Five responds.

“Dude you are not helping your case and I am already on your side,” I shake my head.

“Whatever I’m in,” Klaus responds.

Luther looks to Allison who nods and then agrees.

“Luther grab Viktor,” Five bosses.

“Should we be taking him with us isn’t he like a bomb?” Luther asks.

I practically growl at him “That is our brother!”

“Viktor will cause the apocalypse unless we take him with us and fix him” Five adds.

The Moon asteroid keeps getting closer every second we talk so Five rushes us to all get in a circle and hold hands.

“Aww Five you love us and want us to hold hands,” I tease and Klaus laughs.

“Not the time Y/N,” Five groans.

“Well, could I least have a hug? You have always been my favorite sibling and I just didn’t want to die without a hug.” I mumble out and Klaus gets offended at the favorite sibling comment. 

Five rolls his eyes, “well who is being all loving now.” He says but still returns my hug.

Klaus gets jealous instantly and joins the hug “I want in on this!”

Allison smiles at Klaus’s antics and joins the hug, Diego rolls his eyes at all of us but still joins. Luther smiles and tries to join the hug to the best of his ability well carrying Viktor.

Five shakes his head “You guys are ridiculous. Now how is ready to save the world again?”

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[mayfieldss]

god ur writings are just everything. would you be willing to write a ben hargreeves x reader where the apocalypse is happening (shocking truly ik) and bens only concern is making sure that he and the reader both survive it together? with the ben of your choosing!

AN: I love this request so much! I chose Umbrella!Ben bc he's the loml, I hope you don't mind. I also didn't know if you wanted him to be alive or not so this is Ghost!Ben with a twist.

-

Promises - Ben Hargreeves

Warnings: mentions of death, sexual references, angst, fluff.

Ben had always loved you; he couldn't remember a time when you hadn't held residence in his mind. Klaus had introduced the two of you—sadly after Bens passing—and somehow, under some miracle, you had been able to see and talk to him. Perhaps that was why Klaus had brought you together in the first place. Maybe he had known all along.

You'd bonded with Klaus as well, mainly for the purpose of pulling pranks on Ben—pranks of which never worked, considering the ghost boy always knew what you were up to.

Your bond with Ben, however, was something different. He was head over heels for you, and not only because you were the only other person besides Klaus that could see him. He found himself enjoying your company more than he had anyone else's, indulging in your laughs and smiles, as if they were a delicacy.

When Five announced the apocalypse, there was no laughing, or happiness of any kind. As one would expect when the world was ending, deep depressions settled over everyone that knew of what was to become of the world. You'd gone home as soon as Five let the news loose, wanting some space to clear your head away from the umbrella academy heroes. Ben had followed you, leaving Klaus unattended, not that he would listen to Ben's warnings if he stayed.

"Look, Y/N" Ben appeared by your side as you collapsed onto your couch, head in your hands. "We're gonna make it out of this". Ben wasn't sure of his statement but spoke it anyway needing something comforting to say to you.

"You can't be sure of that Ben" Your head still sat in your hands and Ben wanted desperately for you to look at him. Then he could see your face, scan all your features so he would remember every detail of you no matter what happened.

After a moment he brought himself to speak, "I won't let anything happen to you, okay?".

You turned to him then, lifting your head from your hands but not in the way Ben had hoped. You were hopelessly upset, and Ben could tell well before you spoke. "But you're dead Ben, and I'm no hero. I'm just human, normal, average. I can't save us".

You seemed to notice where you'd gone wrong as soon as the words left your lips, having brought up the death of Ben in a conversation that was meant to be built on reassurance. "Ben I'm so sorry, that came out wrong-" Ben stopped you, smiling the despite the harsh truth. "It's okay".

You shook your head, placing your face in your hands once again "No, it's not, that was mean. I'm sorry".

Being a ghost was difficult, specifically when Ben wanted to reassure you. "Look Y/N, it's just the apocalypse, it's not like it's the end of the world".

You laughed at that, and Ben loved the sound. If he could, he would listen to it on repeat, put it on a record and never stop the turntable.

"Technically it is the end of the world" You were looking at him, the smile that he loved threatening to spill, though your eyes were brimmed with tears. Death was inevitable, you just didn't think it would come for you this soon.

"You promise we'll be okay?" Your question was a commitment impossible to keep but Ben nodded, wanting more than anything to put his arm around you.

"Yeah, I promise".

-

A few days passed and you had pulled yourself together enough to think about things other than your impending demise for a few minutes, before of course falling into a pit of sadness, anger, and frustration once again. Ben's promise did nothing to ease your mind, and you knew it never would. There was no saving you, or anyone. Maybe being okay meant being with him in the afterlife. You sure as hell found yourself heading there.

"You're thinking about death again, aren't you?" The voice of Klaus interrupted your thoughts, cheerful despite it all.

"Of course I am Klaus, it’s my future and it awaits me". You sent him a venomous smile, though you wanted to stop yourself from doing so. Klaus had done nothing wrong, but you couldn't stop your harsh comments, having turned into a pessimist over the last few days.

"Hey, it’s time to be happy! Five has a plan" He drew out the name of his brother, as if mention of the grumpy being would ease your mind.

"What is this plan exactly Klaus?"

"Well, I wasn't really listening, but I'm sure Five could tell you if you go talk to him" Klaus claps his hands together and you roll your eyes. As if it was easy to talk to Five. As you weren't one of his superpowered siblings, the boy wouldn't even lend you a glance.

"You know what Klaus? When the world is in fact not at its end, I'll be happy, but for now I wish to sit and bathe in everything I'm about to lose. My life for example" You stand as you speak, Klaus moving to take your spot on the loveseat in your living room. He'd always loved the spot and makes himself comfortable quickly.

It's then you see Ben standing in the doorway, arms folded like usual.

"Quite an impressive stance you have there Benerino, is there someone you're trying to impress?" Klaus teases Ben with a grin, having known about his crush on you since it started.

"He hasn't got anyone to impress" You wave the comment off, though you smile at Ben as you move past him to the kitchen.

"Ohh, I'm sure you are well worth impressing Y/N" Klaus continues and Ben hisses at him before moving into the kitchen after you. His brother could drive him into the grave if he wasn't already dead.

"Y/N, I know you're sick of hearing this but it's gonna be okay"

"Oh yeah, because Five's got a plan, right?" You spin to face him, though it's not anger in your eyes, it's fear.

It makes Ben ache, the thought that you are deathly afraid of, well, death. He doesn't want you to die either, knowing you have so much more to do with your life, a thousand things that he couldn't do with his own. He also knows there is a chance he won't see you again, even if you join the afterlife. To him that's too much to risk.

It's then that—if it wasn't already before—making sure you both survive the end of the world becomes Ben's top priority. He knows it's not a realistic hope to have that the both of you will survive, but Ben doesn't care. He wants you to live so he can haunt you forever.

-

The way Ben goes about this is through Klaus.

"Go, tell him what I said!".

Klaus looks at him with something of a frown, though, it's difficult to tell. "You go and tell him Ben, don't bully me into doing your ghostly dirty work".

Ben groans loudly, only for the ears of Klaus to hear. "That's exactly the point Klaus, I can't talk to him, I'm dead. But I can talk to you and you," Ben gestures toward the short yet old man just a few feet away, "can talk to him".

Klaus considers this, placing a finger to his lips in thought. Then he glances to Five who was currently, scolding Luther for "being a useless lump of clay". Klaus shakes his head "Nope, not talking to teenage grandpa".

He struts away then, as if he can escape Ben's pestering, instantly being followed by said boy. "Klaus, I'm begging you".

Klaus keeps walking, not sparing a glance to his brother "I only like begging in the bedroom little bro, and from people who are not you".

"Okay ew," Ben stops in his tracks at the words but continues to speak despite Klaus blocking his ears like a child. "Klaus, I want to save Y/N, and I know you do too".

Klaus pauses then, turns still with his hands covering his ears "You're so in love with them, aren't you?". Ben goes to respond, deny the statement, or perhaps confirm it, but he doesn't even have the chance to think about it before Klaus continues. "I mean, I knew you liked them, a lot, but you my brother, have caught the lovebug".

"The lovebug?" Ben folds his arms, defensive. He knows what Klaus says is true, always has been. He admitted such a fact to himself long ago, but his stubbornness sticks like a glue in not admitting it aloud.

"Ben, Ben, Ben. You are in love". Klaus comes over then, smug smile on his lips and arms extended in a hug like fashion, though, he would go straight through his brother if he tried.

Ben decides upon not saying a thing, a simple eye roll coming as his only response to the tease. This only fires up Klaus more, the man jumping up and down on the balls of his feet. "I think you should tell them".

"What?".

"I, your brother, think that you Ben Hargreeves should admit your feelings for Y/N" There's a pause and Klaus leans in closer "Before it's too late".

-

Ben thought over Klaus's words carefully and decided upon one thing. He would tell you how he felt, but not because it was the end of the world, and not before it was too late. He was getting the both of you out of this apocalypse in one piece, even if it cost him everything. There would be no 'too late'.

Currently Ben stood in your living room, trying to convince himself that his feelings were worth sharing, that above everything they were better than a goodbye, that they wouldn't push you away. It was too late to back out now, and if he did Klaus would most likely throw him under the bus later, spilling the beans like he always did with every secret he held.

It was then that you entered your house, jumping at the sight of Ben, pacing within your place like an anxious puppy.

"Jesus Ben!" You held a hand to your chest, backpack gripped in the other as you kicked the door closed. "What are you doing here?".

Ben froze for a second at the sight of you, the best person he'd ever known, whether he'd been alive in his time of knowing you or not. He ran over the words he was to say in his head. "I wanted to tell you something". It wasn't how he'd intended to start the conversation, but it would have to do.

"What'd you want to tell me?" You have your back to Ben now, placing your backpack on the kitchen bench and pulling out various food items. Ben counts two boxes of microwave rice risotto and a block of cheese before he loses focus. Ben can't bring himself to confess when he doesn't know if you're truly listening. If he's going to do this, he wants your full attention, and by the looks of it he's going to have to take it.

He moves quickly taking your hand just before you can grab anything else from your bag of wonders, and it's then that you turn to him, eyes sinking into his. You hold a frown, creases in your brows that Ben wants to smooth out with the pad of his thumb.

"I want to tell you something important-"

Ben is cut off as your gaze shifts from his eyes to his hand, still holding your own. "Ben," Your voice is full of confusion, "you're touching me".

It's then that the feeling of your skin on his registers in his mind, and his mind seems to blur with the contact, something he hadn't felt in so long.

"Is this what you wanted to tell me?" Your voice is quiet, still staring down at that of the skin on skin contact. Ben's staring at it too, your hands intertwined, and somehow a laugh escapes him.

"No, what I wanted to tell you was different. So different".

You manage to pull your eyes away from your hands, though, it had been hard, to look at Ben's face, scanning him for answers. Answers that he didn't have, that was, if you were looking for something to explain the contact.

"What were you going to tell me?" You’re looking into his eyes now, and he can tell that you want to reach out, see if your hand won't just go straight through him, but you don't.

Ben is quiet for a moment, afraid that if he lets go of your hand now, he will never be able to hold it again. Then he finds it in himself to speak. "I wanted to tell you how much I care about you" Ben stops closing his eyes tightly as he wills the right words to come to mind. As much as he hates to admit it, he's thinking of what Klaus would do. When he opens them again, you're looking at him with deep concern. "Ben?". The way you say his name drives him crazy, somehow pushing him forward, giving him the strength to confess.

"I care about you, in more than a friend way". He can't bring himself to say that four letter word. He wants to tell you that after you both survive this. After the two of you make it out alive, flipping off the end of the world with grins on your faces.

When the words leave his lips, you stare at him with something he can't understand, he feels you squeeze his hand and then you let go, and Ben's heart sinks at never being able to touch you again. And then you hug him. You hug him, bringing him close to you, arms around his neck and smiling into his shoulder. Ben is stunned at first, head spinning at having you this close, before he wraps his arms around you, trying to push back tears of relief.

It takes a long time for the both of you to pull away, and when you do Ben makes sure to keep his hand intertwined with yours. He doesn't want your touch to disappear just yet.

"I always keep my promises". His voice is soft, quiet, and you find yourself moving in closer, though you can hear him just fine. You say nothing, and you don't need to say anything. "I promised you that we would make it out of this, that we would survive whatever the fuck this apocalypse is. I'm keeping that promise, okay?".

All you do is nod, but there are tears in your eyes and you're smiling. Really smiling. Ben allows himself to do the same, and somehow that makes everything better. He knows that you'll survive this, together.

-

AN: another Disney channel ending to add to the books!

GENERAL TAGLIST: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreads

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY TAGLIST: @thelaststraw3

BEN HARGREEVES TAGLIST: ??

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[badkitty3000]

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.

#number five x reader #five hargreeves smut #five x reader #five hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #number five #tua #umbrella academy #number five fanfic #tua fanfic #five hargreeves x you #smut #tua fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction requests #smut requests #requests open #five hargreeves imagine #umbrella academy smut

[1-imaginary-girl]

Annoying

Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: It’s no secret Five finds you annoying. In fact, he frequently tells you this. Maybe he even goes too far. But when someone else insults you, Five realizes that only he’s allowed to do that. Reader is gender neutral.

Warnings: Hurtful comments said to the reader

Word Count: 3500

A/N: I’m alive! So long story short, I lost the motivation to write for a while which caused my spontaneous hiatus. I honestly wasn’t sure if I would post anything again. But then, I rediscovered comfort in writing, especially when it’s about my best boys. 

My posting from now on may be a bit sporadic as I’m back in school but I do intend to keep posting.

Anyway, here’s my favourite grumpy boy as a treat!

Five Hargreeves had gotten used to working at the Commission. He still hated every second of it: the job, the people, the killings. But he had adapted, just like he had in the apocalypse, and had fallen into a familiar routine that made the situation easier to swallow. He had finally accepted his job and made peace with it. That is, until you came along.

You also work at the Commission as a field agent and until recently, Five didn’t even know of your existence. Then one day, you came into his office and tried to chat with him. He was bewildered of course and told you to get the hell out of his face. But his rude words didn’t deter you. Instead, you asked him if he wanted to be your partner in the field. Again, Five was shocked and told you absolutely not. Unfortunately, you don’t seem to take no as an answer.

Every day since then, you kept popping into his life. Every day you would make nice with him, do him favours, and were overall friendly with him. Every day, he offered you nothing but a cold shoulder. Every day you asked him to be your partner and every day he told you no.

It was extremely aggravating to say the least. He tried to report you to the Handler but she told him you were doing nothing wrong. She even made some suggestive comments that made Five regret ever going to her for help. So he was on his own.

Except none of his usual moves worked. You never shied away from his negative presence. If he blinked away, you would somehow find him again. There seemed to be no way to remove you from his life.

He’s sitting in his office working when he hears a sound he has come to dread. “Knock knock,” you say as you open his door, not waiting for a response. He once asked you, “What if I was doing something private?” but that only made him flush at the accidental implication and you laughed.

“Not now,” he mumbles, not taking his eyes off his work.

“Yes now,” you say, entering the room and taking a seat on the other side of his desk. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t just removed the chair since the only person who ever used it was you. “I brought you coffee!”

This causes him to glance up, only a little, and what a mistake that turns out to be. There you sit, a beaming smile spread across your face. Your eyes tend to light up when you smile, bringing attention to how stunning they are. Thoughts like these make him feel queasy, at least that’s what he’s deeming it to be. His face also tends to heat up and his breathing acts funny. He’s considered a few times that he was sick, but every test indicated otherwise.

This is another thing that bothers him so much about you. You bring unknown feelings that Five has never experienced before, and he hates feelings, let alone unfamiliar ones.

“The answer is still, and always will be, no,” he says blankly, his eyes focused on his computer but he isn’t paying attention to what’s on the screen.

“But I haven’t even said my pitch yet!” you complain. Without looking, he knows you’re looking at him with big puppy dog eyes. He would never admit, even to himself, that they affect him. “I think today’s speech is much better—”

“Doesn’t matter, still a no.”

You ignore him and clear your throat. “As your partner—”

“Stop.”

“I would bring you freshly made coffee every morning, just the way you like it,” you continue. He decides to stop talking to you altogether. With concentration, he’s able to read the words on the screen and continue typing. “You can still take lead on the missions, though you’ll find I’m fairly skilled on the field. This will also reduce the danger of getting hurt, and if one of us does get hurt, the other can patch them up.”

It is a pain to tend to my own wounds, Five thinks before mentally berating himself. He’s supposed to be ignoring you. And besides, he’s been taking care of himself for years, he’s used to the difficulties by now.

“Another bonus, is that with me as your partner, the Handler won’t be on you as much,” you say, and despite himself, he listens. “She’ll know that someone else has their eyes on you, and with my reputation, she’ll trust me with it.”

Now that actually sounds desirable. The Handler is always checking in on him and keeping a watchful eye on his actions. She knows he’s a good agent, he’s proved that by now, but she still worries that he might betray them. This makes him a loose canon in her eyes. Plus, with her attention elsewhere he’ll be able to make more progress on his secret project to return to his family—

Stop it, he tells himself. This is exactly what you want. You actually have him considering the possibility of becoming partners. The more your voice fills his ears and the more he thinks about what it would mean to have you as a partner, the more his face starts to burn.

He can feel himself losing control over his emotions and he panics. Clearly, ignoring you is not the solution.

“That’s enough!” he yells, causing you to pause mid-sentence. He looks over at you to see your wide eyes staring at him. For the first time, he sees a crack in your positive shield. He continues. “God, just stop already. I am so sick and tired of you groveling at my feet, it is so annoying. Why won’t you get this through your head? I am never partnering with anyone, especially not with you! So for the last time, leave me alone!”

A deadly silence fills the room. Five is panting from his outburst and when his anger recedes, he finds he’s shocked at himself. He’s never had an outburst like that, never yelled like that before. Sure he gets angry and frustrated all of the time, but he hardly ever yells and his words are never that venomous. He just got so riled up with his emotions…

You also seem shocked. You try to cover it up, but he can still tell. You seem unsure of what to say and your usual peppiness seems to have vanished as well. Five isn’t sure how to feel. He also isn’t sure of what to do.

You then clear your throat. “Well then,” you say, trying to piece yourself together. “You seem busy so I should go.” You grin but its wobbly and it doesn’t meet your eyes. And despite himself, he feels sorry. You wordlessly stand up and exit his office.

The silence remains and Five is left frozen. After a moment, he shakes his head and tries to feel unbothered by what just happened.

†††

A few hours have passed since his conversation with you, and Five is out of coffee. He blinks to the Commission’s break room but then he sees you there. You’re standing at the counter with your back to him and in a moment of panic, he blinks to behind a wall just around the corner from the break room.  

He curses silently. He can’t believe that he’s hiding from you after earlier. Maybe he just doesn’t want to deal with your emotions. Or maybe he’s hiding from his own.

He’s about to just toughen up and deal with it when he hears someone else entering the room. “Y/N, how nice to see you,” he hears someone say. He looks to see a woman approaching you. Five thinks he’s seen her around but doesn’t recognize her. He’s tried not to make friends here or fill his mind with useless information. This means he only knows a few people including you and the Handler.

“Cassandra,” he hears you say in a bitter tone. He frowns. He’s never heard you speak like that.

“How have you been?” Cassandra asks and Five doesn’t know why, but she sounds ingenuine despite her cheery tone. He also suspects her smile to be too friendly.

“Fine.” You don’t even look over at her as you continue whatever you were doing at the counter. It isn’t like you to be short with people, and Five wonders if it’s because of what he said.

“I heard you got in trouble with the Handler this morning,” Cassandra says. Oh shit, Five thinks. He isn’t sure if that happened before or after he yelled at you but either way, he doesn’t envy your morning.

“Yup,” is your only response. Cassandra doesn’t seem satisfied by your response. She walks over and leans against the counter next to you.

“That must have been awful. I hope she doesn’t fire you soon,” she says with false concern. You still don’t glance her way. You simply nod your head absentmindedly as your focus remains locked on the kettle in front of you, waiting for the water to boil. Cassandra just keeps talking. “Are you still bugging Agent Five about being his partner?”

Five’s ears begin to burn as the conversation steers towards him. Now more than ever, he thinks he should leave this private conversation, but his feet remain glued to the floor. What does he care? he tries to tell himself, but it doesn’t work.

He watches as you grip the counter tightly. Unfortunately, Cassandra also seems to notice and she takes that as an answer. “Aw you poor thing,” she says, putting her hand on your shoulder only for you to shrug it off.

“Look Cassandra,” you say, your voice filled with agitation. “I’ve had a really bad day, if you could just—”

“I can only imagine,” the woman says, and Five is starting to really dislike her. “It must be hard, getting rejected day after day. I’m surprised you haven’t given up.”

“Fuck it.” You push yourself off the counter. You turn around and Five ducks back around the corner. “I’ll come back later.”

There’s a moment of silence before, “Do you know why he keeps rejecting you?” Five risks a glance to see that you’ve turned back around.

“What?” you say, surprised by the question.

“It’s the same reason why all of the others rejected you,” she says, which takes Five by surprise. He didn’t know there were others. An illogical flare of jealousy rises in him before he stomps it out.

“You’re annoying,” she says, her tone one of false sympathy. “No one wants to be around you. You come on way too strong and, sweetie, you reek of desperation.”

“S-stop,” you say, in shock but also seemingly hit by a bullet of emotions. Even Five is surprised.

“You’re just a nuisance,” Cassandra says. “A pest that no one can get rid of. That’s why you’ve never found a partner and that’s why you never will. I mean, who could like you let alone stand you?”

“Cassandra…” you say and Five can hear the quiver in your voice. He doesn’t know why, but the sound makes his chest tighten.

“Face it, Y/N,” she says, now standing right in front of you. “You were always meant to be alone.” Finally, Five can’t take it anymore. He walks out from around the corner and glares at Cassandra. He finds himself loathing her. Only he is allowed to call you annoying.

Cassandra glances past you and looks surprised to see him there. Just like that, she has on her friendly looking face again. “Oh hey there Fi—” she starts to say to him.

“Get out,” he spits at her. Her eyes widen at his venomous tone but decides to listen, scurrying away. It’s nice to see his fearful reputation precedes him. There’s a silence that settles in the room once she’s left. You seem to be frozen in place, not even turning to face him. He isn’t sure what to do himself, whether to somehow approach you or to ignore you entirely.

Luckily, his decision is made for him as you wordlessly walk back up to the counter towards the kettle. Five clears his throat, trying to rid himself of this awkward feeling, and walks up beside you.

He doesn’t address you, after all he normally isn’t the one to start the conversation. Which is why it’s so odd when you don’t. The two of you move about silently, completing your individual tasks. He finds he can’t even look at you, for the downtrodden look on your face still inflicts pain upon him. Finally, after an agonizing amount of time, you speak.

“Five,” you say, also clearing your throat. “I, uh, I have some good news for you.”

He sees that you’re trying to plaster on your usual happy appearance but it’s broken and he can see right through it.

He expects you to say something along the lines of “I forgive you for earlier” or “I made you some coffee.” He expects you to forgive him and act as normal. He did not, however, expect your actual words.

“I will no longer be bothering you with my presence.” Normally, these words would send him jumping for joy. After all, this is what he’s been wanting. But after the conversation he overheard, something gave him pause.

“Oh?” he says, at a loss for words as he is caught off guard.

“Yeah,” you say with a forced smile. “I’ve realized that I haven’t been respecting your feelings, as you have made it more than clear that you don’t want me as a partner and that you never will.”

He hears your voice crack towards the end and he can’t help but compare your words to Cassandra’s. “Yes I uh…I appreciate that,” he says, hesitant with his words. He isn’t sure what to make of all of this.        

“Right,” you say, straightening yourself. You pick up your mug and turn to fully face him. He tries to ignore the shine of incoming tears in your eyes. “See you around. And uh, sorry for bothering you.”

Before he can say anything else, you turn and exit the room, leaving Five in a state of uncertainty.

†††

When Five walks into work the next morning, he’s not on edge like he usually is. He normally expects you to greet him on his way to his office, but there’s no sight of you. After Five recovered from his shock, he decided he should be happy about the situation. Sure, he didn’t want you to get hurt, but he got what he wanted.

He settles into his office and gets to work. He reaches to take a sip of his coffee when he realizes there’s nothing there. Oh, right. You normally got his morning coffees for him. Not a big deal, he thinks. If anything, this shows what a nuisance you had been for changing his routine.

Throughout the next couple of days, he starts to realize what an impact you had made on him. For one, the coffee doesn’t taste as good, which is odd. Then he noticed his plant started to die. Five didn’t even know he had a plant. He got rid of it and suddenly felt that his office was colder. He knows it’s illogical, but he didn’t realize how it brightened the room.

And most of all, he found his normal routine to be rather dull. Normally, you would interrupt his work and give a small relief to the boring workload. His room is quieter than ever and the days start to blend together.

But this is what he wanted wasn’t it? To finally be on his own? It’s not like he missed your ramblings, or the sound of your laugh, or your happy disposition, or the way you brightened his day. No. He’s better off alone…

He doesn’t even believe himself. He scowls. How could he let this happen? How could he let someone in and affect him so much to a point where he missed them? He thinks about ignoring his feelings and soldiering on, as is his way, but the thought of going on like this for God knows how long makes him reconsider.

Goddamn you.

†††

He had never seen your office before. He didn’t even know you had an office up until now. He thought, a bit conceitedly perhaps, that he was the only field agent with an office. Maybe you weren’t exaggerating when you said you were good.

Your door is left open, possibly to be more inviting and welcoming. It’s perfectly you. Five looks in to see your head down, writing something at your desk, and takes a moment to consider you. God, he had missed you. He feels a little excited just seeing you there. Is he that lonely and desperate?

He knocks on your door and stands in the doorway. You lift your head and your eyes widen in surprise to see him. He tries not to look uncomfortable under your gaze.

“Oh! Hey Five,” you say, cautiously. You’re not as bubbly around him anymore, almost afraid to scare him off. He doesn’t like it. “What can I do for—”

Before you can finish, Five drops a file onto your desk. You look at him in surprise. There’s a silence. “What’s this?” you ask.

“Read it,” he snaps at you, his nerves getting the better of him. You open the file and he sees surprise overtake your whole face.

“This…this is a request to have me as your partner,” you say quietly, not knowing how to react.

“This has nothing to do with your pestering, by the way,” Five says. “I thought about it and came to my own conclusion that a partner would be beneficial. I thought since you were already willing, it was the simpler choice.”

As he speaks, he watches your disbelief change into joy and a bright smile returns to your face. It’s almost infectious.

“This is incredible,” you say. And then something changes and your smile drops into a frown, which makes him upset. Not that he was doing this for you, but he thought you’d be happy. “But I thought…I thought I annoyed you. What changed?”

He feels guilt tug at him. It seems his outburst stuck with you. “I…might have overreacted the other day. You do annoy me, but I didn’t mean it like that.” You nod at this and he senses it isn’t enough to convince you. Fuck it. He’s already in this deep. “I suppose, as a gesture of good faith as your new partner, and only for this occasion…I owe you an apology.”

Your eyes shoot up at him and he falters. Then he clears his throat and prays no one else is around to hear this. “I am…sorry, for any hurt my outburst may have caused you.” He could count on one hand the number of times he has genuinely apologized to someone. But apparently it works, as your frown is gone.

“Oh, um, thank you,” you say, unsure how to respond to his sudden change in character. There’s an awkward pause before you smile. You hold out your hand and say, “Partners?”

It’s such a sweet gesture of forgiveness that Five finds his mouth twitching upwards. “Partners,” he says, shaking your hand. He ignores the sparks he feels when his hand touches yours. But he has been sentimental for far too long.

He ends the handshake and clears his throat once more. “To be clear, this is not an official contract, you still have to sign the paper,” he says but the smile cannot be erased from your face.

“Yes, of course! I will handle that right away,” you say. “This is so exciting! You will not regret this.”

“I better not,” he says. “This doesn’t change anything between us, we’re not friends.”

“Yet,” you say with a cheeky smile. He is much more relieved to see you acting as your normal self again.

“Y/N I’m serious—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. This is going to be so fun,” you giggle, seemingly ignoring what he just said. “Thank you.”

You’re looking up at him, a soft smile on your lips and a twinkle in your eye. He falters again as he feels heat rising in his cheeks. He looks away.

“No need to thank me, just make sure that request is signed and submitted.”

“Aye, aye, cap’n,” you salute him and he takes this as his cue to leave. He turns and you call out, “See you around!”

He doesn’t respond, or rather he can’t. He’s already starting to regret this and not because of the reason you think. Seeing you all happy and excitement caused his heart to swell with a feeling he isn’t familiar with. He doesn’t like this unknown territory and change. But he has to admit…

It felt kind of nice.

#five x reader #five x you #five x y/n #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x y/n #five hargreeves #five hargreeves fanfiction #tua #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy fanfiction #tua fanfiction

[kaybreezy3000]

The Anti Hero's Pitfall of Arrogance

Five Hargreeves / Female OC

What happens when you disarm an exceptionally arrogant person, one that is a self-absorbed, teleporting, teenaged superhero?

The answer is not great things.

Get ready for a taste of Five like you've never had before...

(Chapters 5, 6, and 7 post to complete this story)

- This AU starts off when the Hargreeves are 16 and but is based off the show. It's going to give you a look inside Five's mind at that time of his life and not all of it is good, but I promise it's not all bad. I always make sure to give our boy his day to shine.

Warnings and Tags: sexually explicit content, flashbacks, teen bad behavior, survival horror, bad decisions, regret, POV Five, aggression issues, suffering, humor and angst and fluff, redemption, sweet Five and mean Five in same story, Dolores is a factor, hurt Number Five, Five makes fun and dirty check lists in this one, Young Five is really something, Plot twists and many tags left off to avoid spoiling the story.

Link to Chapters 1 and 2.

Link to Chapters 3 and 4

Chapter Five: Snowman

Phoebe Leroux = Undeniably Extraordinary.

When we were sixteen, I never even asked her last name before I enthusiastically felt her up and then aggressively stuck my dick down her throat.

Five Hargreeves = World’s biggest asshole.

My ax slams down through the log, the pieces fling to the side, falling in the pile at my feet.

Thanks to Phoebe, I still have both my feet, and I also have my life.

It has only been three months since the day she found me, and it’s already falling below zero at night and it’s not much better during the day. It went from a world so hot you could hardly breathe, to so cold I feel like I’m going to freeze my nuts off every time I’m out here.

With temperatures consistently this low, we are rapidly depleting our indoor supply of firewood. There’s plenty here thanks to our location and the home’s prior occupant and their neurotic preparations, but if we are going to keep our fire lit, one of us needs to come out and get more wood several times a day.

Even with Fee’s special warming powers, heating the one room cabin all night is something she’s not capable of. The second she’s asleep, she can’t control the temperature of anything other than herself and the things she’s touching. Unless we want to wake up in a room that feels like an icebox, we need a fire going in our stone hearth.

I slam the heavy ax back down again, splitting my last piece of wood, then I look back towards the house. The sun fell below the horizon over a half hour ago, but it was never sunny during the day and hasn’t been for two weeks. I had hardly noticed it was getting dark, but now I see that the ghostly shadows from the last hazy light are stretching across the yard, out from the equally haunted looking ruined forest to the west.

I’m sure Phoebe is wondering what in the hell is taking me so long. We have plenty of branches and larger dry pieces of wood already cut up. All I needed to do was go get them and that should have taken less than five minutes. I saw her peeping out the window, checking on me a few times, but I pretended that I didn’t see her.

Deliberately delaying going in, I slowly start stacking the wood in the drum of the wheelbarrow. I hate making her do everything, so I came out, but it’s also because I needed to clear my head. Unfortunately, even this cold fucking air isn’t helping set me straight.

Nothing is lately.

Once I go in, it’s going to be another one of those long nights, and the colder it gets, the closer we need to be and the harder this is.

Cart loaded; I stare blankly at the ground. I still can’t bring myself to go in. I am engulfed in a cloud of white vapor as I release another frazzled sigh. Arms dangling sulkily at my sides, I begin to aimlessly pace the open area of our yard.

After tossing a few rotten branches out into the brush pile, I wander over to the greenhouse and start inspecting a window I repaired over a month ago.

Fee finding his place, which is an entire survivalist’s estate that was featured on one of those dooms’ day preppers TV shows, once again proves how sheltered I was growing up, and how little I know about what regular people do in their free time. I never would have found this place without her and that’s because I never would have watched reality TV shows even if dad would have let us watch TV. Fee only saw the show once, but that was enough for her to remember it.

I glance up, looking back at the cabin again. I can see the glow of the oil lamp on our small kitchen table inside. She left it going for me. It’s like a signal, telling me I should get my skinny ass inside and stop being so stupid.

Still dawdling, I make my way around the glass grow-house, testing window frames that I already know will hold up just fine in the vicious winter winds since they already withstood the massive shockwaves that tore through this area five years ago.

When Fee found me, I was in Nowheresville Pennsylvania, but I was almost in bum-fuck West Virginia, which is where we are now at our posh hillbilly haven. This cabin was strategically built into the side of a rock cliff, and it is fully intact thanks to its fortified construction and because of its shielded location in the Alleghanian Mountains. The vast store of supplies that were stored underground are plentiful and unspoiled. There’s even a freshwater spring on property that tests in a much safer drinking range than anything I have had in the last five years. This is also where Fee found the off-road jeep that she used to recuse me.

This place is a huge blessing, but so is she. With Fee by my side, my life would be a million times easier no matter where I was.

During my first days here, I learned so many things about her, one being that she hadn’t been in this area very long which made her and I crossing paths even more of a miracle. The other thing I discovered, though I should have already known, is that she is inherently kind and compassionate and extremely sharp. She can take any problem and find a viable solution, continually surprising me with how fast and cleverly she can think outside the small box of numbers and figures my mind is used to operating in.

Staggering into the cabin that first night, I was completely at her mercy. I was still too weak to get up without her help and she pretty much had to carry me again.

She did everything for me. I never had to ask.

One of the nicest things she did (and there were many) was she washed my appallingly soiled and pathetically boney body. I hadn’t properly washed for weeks, so she had her work cut out for her. She cleaned and rewrapped my injured foot while I was knocked out from her glorious pain meds, but the rest happened the next morning after I woke up, after she made sure I ate my fill of breakfast first. She did it all in such a way to let me keep what was left of my dignity. Inch by inch, limb by limb, and other areas too, she kept me mostly covered as she bathed me with warm, soapy wash clothes.

With as close to death as I had been, it felt like I had died and went to heaven having that done to me.

She rinsed me and helped me dress in comfortable, fresh clothing. She ensured I ate again and even carefully cleaned and reclothed Dolores, always making sure she was by me, but never saying anything about my intense emotional and deep physical connection to her.

Fee could plainly see that I was broken and not just on the outside. She never pushed me to talk, or in any other way. She just took care of me.

It wasn’t until almost a week later that I lamely attempted to explain Dolores to her by revealing that I found her just two days after burying my family. If it wasn’t bad enough that I cried in front of Fee several times already, when I talked about those first days, I cried again. She still never showed any signs of judgment about my mind falling apart so fast, or my need to cling to something outside of me to pretend that I wasn’t alone.

Fee was so sweet about it all, and I still don’t know how to grasp that or everything I am feeling about her.

She always makes it her priority to take care of me. Even letting me be the one to come out here in the bitter cold took some convincing. I insisted that I had to take a leak, otherwise I knew she would have stuffed her feet in her boots and came out without even needing layer upon layer to keep her warm like I do.

Fee coddles me, but she has her reasons. One being that, since she found me, I am the weak link in this relationship.

That has to change.

Straightening my back, I walk back over to the loaded wheelbarrow. Digging the heels of my boots into the frozen ground, I thrust the handles down, forcing the weight onto the front tire so I can get it moving forward.

“Fuck,” I groan because it feels like every muscle in my body is being put to the test just to keep the stupid thing level. “I fucking hate wheelbarrows, they don’t make any fucking sense!” I shout out to no one because I’m nuts. At least I’m getting stronger again, but I have a long way to go in the brain department and physically.

It took three days after nearly dying before I could walk normally on my own. Phoebe would stay with me most of the time if I was awake, keeping me company by reading to me until I dozed off again. It was as if she knew my mind was badly troubled by things I couldn’t articulate and she was trying her best to help me run from my demons even for just a little while.

Sadly, I couldn't escape the horrors I had been through no matter how much I enjoyed listening to the soothing rhythm of her voice.

On day two, when I was doing so much better, and I was awake most of the day. We talked more and more, but mostly I listened. I had little to tell her other than where I’d been since coming here, which wasn’t very far compared to her.

I learned that after our first fateful encounter, Fee went on to do many things, including getting her citizenship. Life wasn’t easy for her or what many would call conventional, but like she said the day I met her, she is extremely resourceful, and like now, she got things done no matter what and she survived.

Phoebe traveled the world, often with hardly a dime to her name. She had many jobs related to performing and music, and many that didn’t. She is the kind that radiates happiness, and people naturally gravitate to that, so there were plenty of interesting friends made along the way and even some people that sound like they were more than friends, though she didn't elaborate on those relationships. I had nothing similar to share, so I just listened, imagining her free spiritedly drifting through her life.

During our many talks, Fee has always been forthcoming, but she always keeps her stories positive in nature and I think it’s for my benefit. She doesn’t want to make me think of more bad things. But even with my lack of understanding people, I can tell that her inability to settle any one place very long wasn’t simply because she didn’t want to. It was out of necessity.  

She virtually had nothing, and she never told anyone about what she could do. Only her mother had known. Putting herself out there like that in the public eye could have changed everything for her when it came to money worries, but it also would have meant living a life under constant scrutiny and expectations. She’d seen with my family what kind of exploitation could happen if suddenly the world knew you had superpowers.

Fee was scared to tell anyone the truth and that prevented anyone from ever really knowing her.

She wanted a normal life, but sadly it seems you can’t escape the isolation of being born this way. Looking back, I realize that is in part why she felt it was so important to tell me about 'others' with powers; she had hoped telling me meant she wouldn't have to be alone. She was searching for someone that would understand and that she could trust.

It makes me sick thinking about that and how badly I messed that up.

The night the world ended, Phoebe was alone because she often was. She was backcountry camping along the Colorado River. Her campsite was in an open box canyon so there was nothing out there to crush her. She was laying there, contemplating her next moves in life, but she was also stargazing. To her horror, she saw what looked like our moon breaking apart. Then even more shocking, fire started raining down from the sky in all directions.

She told me how terrified she was and how that feeling didn’t get any better in the days after that. She survived because thanks to her powers, she can’t burn. She didn’t even know that till then, and that’s because in those first few hours after the initial blast, fire was taking everything that hadn’t already been destroyed. That part she said very little about and I can only imagine why. I arrived the next day and things and people were still burning but not like I am sure they were the day before.

The moon being blown apart makes no sense scientifically, but I believe her that's what happened. There’s no way our government agencies would have missed an enormous asteroid or a comet big enough to do that. That means something unnatural happened and I can’t help thinking my family was involved in some way. It’s just too coincidental that my home was blown to hell the day before, and that Luther was holding on to that eyeball.

After telling Phoebe my thoughts on that, it became our mutual goal to get back and do anything we can to try and save them, and all of humanity. It’s a lofty goal, but we both see no other way.

Now more than ever, I need to figure out a way to travel back, because I am certain that there is something I can do about what happened. Now I don’t need to just pull myself back through the unknowns of time, I need to bring her along for the ride too. There’s no way I’d leave her. She is my friend and my teacher, showing me how to survive in this place far better than I was before.

In what feels even more important, Fee shows me every day what it means to be loved.

Like she was that night I met her in that damp and dirty warehouse, Phoebe is all brightness and tenderness in this world of murky nothingness. Just watching her as we go about our days together makes my heart feel so heavy. Sometimes she leaves me speechless by simply smiling at me in that pretty way of hers while she's doing the most mundane tasks.

Anytime she shows me affection, it’s always innocently, but…

Yeah.

Yup, coming outside didn’t help. It’s just prolonging the inevitable.

I can’t hide out here forever and I am shivering so hard now my damn teeth are clattering together.

Getting on with it, I unload part of the wood by the door, then heave the sling full of the rest up on my shoulder before teetering up the steps with it. I am sure that by now Fee is done getting ready for bed, meaning she’s in bed.

Our bed…

Fuck, fuck, triple times a million fucks.

Dolores knows where my mind is at, and as always, she understands, but she also thinks I am being ridiculous. She loves Fee and has since day one. When we are out scavenging, Phoebe always makes a point to find little treasures to bring back for Dolores.

They are big time buddies now.

Fee decorates Dolores like she’s the queen of the apocalypse, dressing her in expensive pieces of jewelry and excessively feminine tops with sparkles and sequins. Basically, anything goes if it makes no sense in the conditions we are living in, and it’s the exact opposite of what either of us wear daily. I didn’t even realize Dolores liked all that stuff until Fee started doing that with her. Then I saw how happy it makes them both.

Fee treats Dolores like she’s real. But not since the first days, when I was still very sick, have I talked to or touched Dolores so openly when Fee was around. I know that a part of her doing this kind of thing is to try to make me feel like it’s okay if I want to do it too. But things have drastically changed for Dolores and I since Fee found us, and my normal mode of conduct with her has been strictly kept for when Fee is not around, which isn’t very often. I haven’t slept with Dolores in my arms since that first fevered night.

I love her but doing that with her, or doing much of anything else that I feel the urge to do feels very wrong now.

I do speak with Dolores all the time, but we keep our conversations private. Dolores knows I’m having a hard time navigating this bizarre situation, but she’s adamant that I open myself up to Fee. Like so many things, I don’t know how or if I should. I don’t want to ruin what we have.

Phoebe hasn’t let on that she has any feelings for me in other way than the friendly kind of way, and I can’t blame her. Back when she was head over heels for me, which for her was a long time ago, I wasn’t anything anyone else would look twice at. Here, even as the only man on Earth, I am clearly not a catch. She already gave me a chance even though she shouldn’t have, and I epically blew it, and now I’m even more of a mess than I was at sixteen. In a normal situation, a beautiful, mature woman like Fee would want nothing to do with a lanky, immature fuck-up like me.

I’d be laughing if this ironic twist of fate weren’t so fucking heart wrenching. My heart hurts when I think about how much I care about Fee.

I am completely crushing on the girl who once crushed on me and got her heart stomped on for it.

“Fuck,” I mumble when I realize my frozen fingers won’t tighten around the doorknob enough to turn it. “Fuck you, you fucking-"

It finally clicks open, and I ram my head into it to push the door wide. With my giant load of wood, I stumble from the weight of it, then unsteadily kick the door closed behind me and loudly tromp over to the fireplace letting my sack tumble to the floor.

When I look across the small room, I can see that Fee is trying not to laugh over my graceless performance.

“Sorry,” I sheepishly offer, along with a lopsided grin. If my face wasn’t already bright red from the blistering cold, it would be now.

Sitting up straighter with her back against her pile of pillows, Fee lowers her book. “We weren’t trying to go to sleep yet, there’s no need to apologize for crashing through like the abominable snowman. Do you need some help with all that?”

By ‘we’ weren’t sleeping yet, Fee is referring to Dolores, who is sitting, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket on the chair next to my side of the bed, just like she is every night.

Yes. I sleep between two beautiful women, and I can’t touch either one the way I want.

Awesome.

Now Dolores is trying not to giggle at me.

I shake my head at her and covey my thoughts on that silently. I’m glad you’re entertained by my blue balls, sweetheart. 

After biting my glove to pull it off my numb hand, I spit it on the floor, then awkwardly clear my throat as I look back at Fee. “Ah, no. I’m good. Thank you though.”

The 'ahh' I stammered on just came out several octaves higher than normal because why not look like more of a moron?

Shucking my other glove off, I put my shaking hands down by the flames, bringing some immediate feeling back to them, then I busy myself with throwing more logs on, restacking the rest next to the wall and cleaning up the big mess I just made.

When I am done with all that and I’m over by the door again, kicking off my boots and peeling off my layers, I notice that Fee set her book on the side table and is staring at me with a cute but very devious look.

“We were getting a little worried in here. I thought maybe you accidently got too close when you were pissing on your favorite clothesline pole and that you accidentally froze your dick to it.”

Another thing I learned very quickly about Fee is that she’s got a wonderfully crude sense of humor.

My cheeks stretch and my lips pull to the side again. “No, I didn’t freeze my dick to a metal pole, but I did almost freeze.”

Freed of my layers, and only in fleece sleep pants and a sweatshirt, instead of blinking there, I sprint over to the bed, vaulting over the footboard with childlike enthusiasm.

The bed springs springing back, give Fee a good bounce and I knew this would make her laugh. That was part of the point of it, but it’s also because I am so flippin cold. Hiding outside was to avoid going to bed with her, but the reality is, this is exactly where I want to be.

I want it way too much, hence a major part of my problem.

Once I have crawled up next to her, I waste no time shuffling my body under the mound of blankets. When my freezing foot locks down over hers, she jolts from the chilly assault, but she doesn’t pull away because she never does. Within seconds, my entire body is warming back up. Currents of heat brush up my leg from our point of contact, spreading through my entire body as I melt into the mattress with a sigh of relief.

“Yowza! You are so cold! Why didn’t you just let me go out there? You could have pissed in that lovely chamber pot, or did your business and just came back in. You were out there for almost an hour, what the heck were you thinking?”

Unenthusiastically, I look over at the pot she’s referring to. I have used the pot. It was in my first days here when I didn’t want to make her carry me outside.

Looking at her overly sourly, I say, “I hate that thing and I won’t use it.”

She chuckles at that. “You hate a lot of things, one of them being cold, but you just willingly went out in it and stayed out when you didn’t need to. You are such a stubborn asshat. Sometimes I think you do things like this just to drive me nuts. It’s like your secret superpower that no one else ever was lucky enough to be privy to.” She sneaks a hand under the blankets and lightly prods my side, to provoke me further.

I want to ‘provoke’ her right back, but instead I frown at her.

She merely raises a brow, brining it on even more. “You know, Five, you could have just whacked-off in here?”

A puff of air rushes out of my chest and I think my face just lit on fire, but I stick my head further out of the blankets anyway, defiantly jutting my chin at her.

“My family was privy to my assholery, and I wasn’t whacking off. I was chopping wood and you know it.”

I seriously can’t think of anything better to retaliate with, and that’s probably because I have whacked off plenty of times while wandering around outside with her on my mind, and talking about jerking it right now isn’t helping me get my shit together or think with even the tiniest bit of intelligence.

Her body quakes with laughter as I narrow my eyes at her. “Yeah. Playing with your wood, like I said," she beautifully chackles.

Fully rolling over in her direction, I do my best pouty face. She gives me one right back.

“Miss, Leroux, you are awful.” I have to bite the inside of my cheek to hold in my smile.

There’s scratching around under the blankets, and I can feel Fee fishing around until she finds my hand closest to her where it’s tucked under my tightly crossed arms. Her warm fingers wrap around mine as she offers a much less naughty look.

My stomach flutters from her touch and my heart rate kicks up accordingly.

“I am sorry. I’m just messing with you because you make it so darn easy. You know I love you, Five. I wouldn’t want to be here with any other asshat than you, and that’s only partly because you’re the special teleporting kind that is going to get us out of this apocalyptic shit hole.”

I can’t help my truly contented smile from hearing her say that she loves me. I know it’s not in that way, but I love that she says it, and how she’s looking at me right now, and that she’s touching me for reasons other than to warm me up, but it’s doing that too despite her intentions.

Phoebe’s strawberry blonde hair is tied back in her nightly braid, but the wavey pieces framing her face are just begging for me to tuck them back behind her ears. Just the memory of brushing her hair back so I could see her better while she pleasured me, how soft everything about her feels, how those pink lips felt against my own, and on my…

Fuck me, I need to go back outside.

I could lay here all night and stare at her while fighting boners, but I force myself to roll on my back again and she does the same about a minute later.

I feel her wiggle closer, causing our hips to touch as we both gaze up at the ceiling, watching the fire light dance on the beams.

“Someday we’ll leave this place,” I breathe. Getting us out of this is the most important thing. Her unintentionally reminding me of that important point has my fucked-up mind on my most recent equations and time dilation sequences rather than on her lips and my dick, and that’s a very good thing. “I’ll figure it out. I promise, I will.”

“I know you will because you are this planet's one and only, time traveling mastermind. Number Five Hargreeves, you are our only hope.” She softly laughs at me as she pulls her hand away from mine but not before sneaking in a quick tickle.

Man, do I want to tickle her, but I’m scared I won’t be able to stop there.

“Okay, that’s it,” I say squirming a little as her nails dig in between my ribs. “You’ve been allotted your making fun of Five time slot for the day. It’s time to be quiet. Keep those tiny magical heater feet of yours on me and go to bed, mean girl.” I say it with disgruntled authority, but I can’t help the full smile I am wearing.  

“You like it when I tease you.”

I do, but my response is nothing more than a dismissive huff that makes her let out another girly little giggle.

I peek her direction just in time to see her eyes shutting. She’s still smiling that curious smile of hers that I can only conclude means that she is happy and that makes me happy. What I want doesn’t matter when it comes to more than this.

I carefully move my arm out from under the bedding, taking Dolores’s hand in mine.

“Just tell her. It will be okay. Everything is okay now that we have her,” she whispers.

My tired eyes close and the fuzzy black and white stars start dancing behind my lids, but those lips and that smile will forever be imprinted in my mind and not even sleep lets me forget them. Soon, images and of the feel of her will fill my dreams, they always do.

------Sleepy, happy Five....

----------

The thing about winter in the Apocalypse is it’s even more unbearable to be outside than normal. We hardly ever go out lately, but that wasn’t stopping me this morning when I woke pre-dawn, determined to complete a very important mission.

Christmas is only a few days away and I have nothing for Fee. We are almost always together when scavenging and that’s for safety and practicality reasons, but today I snuck out early while she was still sleeping.

Months ago, while out foraging with her, I found a guitar in a case in the remains of someone’s bedroom. I didn’t even think to tell her about it or take it because I was so used to being solely focused on finding and bringing back only what I needed to survive. Looking back on that now, and the fact that I know Fee loves to play and is very good at it, I can’t believe I didn’t even consider taking it for her. It’s the perfect gift.

I wrote a note, stating that I’d be gone for an hour or so. I was hoping that she wouldn’t even wake up until I was back.

That was three hours ago now.

Even before I got down to the valley floor and started making my way through the deep snow to the closest town, the storm clouds were ominously moving in from the east and the freezing winds were cutting through the mask protecting my face. Being I’m on the western side of the range, I had no way of knowing how bad things were going to get, but even that is not a great excuse for putting myself in this situation.

The snow is falling fast, and the gusts are blowing it in such a way that I can hardly see a few feet in front of me at times. I think I’m on the right path, maybe?

Stopping, I clomp my snowshoes around in a circle formation as I recheck where I am. North, South, East, West, it all looks the same right now. Blinking won’t even get me back since I can’t orient myself.

“Shit.”

Fee is going to be livid.

Checking my compass and readjusting the strap on the case I have slung on my back, I start trudging uphill again, moving East. I’m going approximately the right direction. I’m sure I will see a landmark of some kind soon.

Not for over another hour do I know for certain I’m getting close. By then, I am too exhausted to pull off a jump.

By the time I am heading up the twisting inclined path that is the road into what is now Fee and my property, I have been gone a total of six and half hours.

Fee has the door of the cabin open even before I can make it to the snow buried steps.

Raising my stiff arm, I push my ski goggles up with my frozen mitten. Phoebe crashes into me, flinging her arms around me even though I am covered in ice and snow.

“Fee, I’m so-"

My snow blindness begins to clear after a few slow blinks.

Oh, shit. She’s crying.

“I thought you were gone! I looked everywhere. There weren’t even any tracks!” she hysterically sobs.

She’s holding me so tight that I can feel her shaking and I know it’s not from the cold.

“I’d never leave you,” I say, holding her right back, but it’s more like I’m pathetically slumped around her smaller frame.

Fuck, I feel like such a bastard.

With her tears streaking down her cheeks and the snow sprinkling her hair in downy white, she lets me go, but only enough to start towing me inside, loudly slamming the door behind us as I tiredly slouch into the closest kitchen chair.

I can hardly move, and I know I’m in deep shit.

Fee wipes at her eyes, as she kneels in front of me. Still sniffling, she immediately starts unstrapping my boots out of my snowshoes. She looks back up at me once my boots are thrown off, but she doesn’t release my sore feet from her hot hands. I wiggle my toes to give her confirmation that I didn’t turn them into two blocks of ice with my ill-timed expedition.

“What were you thinking? You could have died out there.” She releases my feet, and her hands come up to rub her temples.

I don’t know what to say. I feel so bad. She looks so hurt and that’s not at all what I wanted.

“I am sorry, I wanted to-"

I stop, taking a deeply defeated breath as my shame sets in even more. Dropping my head, I reach back and pull the frozen strap off my shoulder, bringing the hard black guitar case around in front of her.

Fee looks confused, meaning she’s so upset that she hadn’t even noticed it yet.

She takes it and I slowly lean back as I watch her unlatch the two clasps holding it closed. Her eyes run over the polished black acoustic guitar inside. All its strings are still intact, but even if they aren’t good, there are several other packages of new ones inside the case along with a few other things someone like her would know how to use.

“I wanted to get you a present. Merry early Christmas, Fee.”

Now, after seeing how anguished she is, this hardly seems like a good explanation for what I did, but it’s all I have.

Her brows pull down as her lips push out in a quivering pout.

Shit, she’s crying again.

Before I know it, Phoebe sets my gift aside, pushes up from the floor and starts draping herself around me again, only this time she’s got me pinned to the chair with her bottom in my lap, her spread legs dangled at my sides, and her magical warm lips pressing into mine.

I have wanted this for so long, but I can’t even begin to comprehend what is happening right now.

Worried that I’m going to scare her off, I very gradually turn my face up to get a better angle to kiss her back.

Her hips subtly rub up against mine in response and even through my sub-zero snow gear, I can feel it in all the right, or maybe wrong ways.

“Mmmmm- mmmfff!”

I am not even close to being able to hold that embarrassingly high-pitched moan in as she pushes herself closer and her hands move inside my hood, her hot fingers forcing their way under the heavy scarf still wrapped around neck.

Not sure what to do, I very hesitantly bring my hands up on her waist, slowly moving back down her curves until they are wrapped behind her, gently holding her bottom.

Despite my best efforts to contain myself, my tongue has a mind of its own and it darts out in my increasingly excited state, but she doesn't seem to mind. Fee letting me kiss her like this feels so good that my damn head feels like it could roll right off my shoulders. If not for her fingers splayed out on the back of my skull as they lightly tug at my hair, I'm sure it would. Phoebe clearly has me secured where she wants me.

Fuck… She wants me.

Maybe?

Yes.

Obviously.

I think…

“Fff-fff-e-Fee?”

“Hmm?” she hums back, still not stopping with her kisses. Now they are moving from my lips to my jaw, and-

My legs both spontaneously tense and my hands inside my mittens clench as I try to latch on to her ass even tighter.

“Ahh-ya-you- Ahhhh.” My words fail to land in a way that’s coherent as her mouth moves to what she can get of my neck.

Holy fuck, this feels amazing and it’s getting so hot in here or maybe it’s just me. Fuck. It’s both. I wish I wasn’t wearing all this crap.

My little goddess of fire and ice works me over a little more before she graces me with her stunning blue eyes gazing into my own much less alluring and very droopy ones.

Her plump pink lips spread in a coy looking smile as she speaks. “Thank you for the gift.”

“You like it?”

She nods a yes as she bites her lower lip with her upper teeth.

“Am I out of the doghouse then?” I question, even though I feel pretty certain I am.

Fee softly laughs at my question and maybe even at my attempt at a funny expression, which consists of me trying to conjure up some major puppy dog eyes for her. “You were never in it. I was just so scared I’d lost you.”

“I am so sorry. I never met to scare you. I would never leave you, Fee.” I pause and my words come out shaking as I say them but it’s only because of how much I mean them. “I’m hopelessly in love with you, Phoebe. You are everything to me.”

Suddenly her face looks so sad again and I desperately want to take back what I just said.

My eyes frantically search hers, but I don’t know what I’m seeing in them.

“I wanted to give you something special. You have done so much for me,” I further explain, because I don’t know what to say or do.

Her normally sure voice cracks just a little. “All I want is you, Five. You are my special, I thought you knew that by now.”

“You want me?”

“Yes. I love you. I want to be there for you, and with you in every way if you are ready for it. I thought you understood that.”

Oh.

My eyes dart around as my brain tries to figure out what I have been missing all these months. Dolores is sitting on the tiny sofa next to the fireplace and the moment I lay eyes on her, she rolls her eyes at me, giving me one of her ‘I told you so looks.’

Before I can come up with an answer to that, Fee kisses me again and as soon as she does, my mind can do nothing but think of her lips and how they feel moving with my own.

Fee’s hands make fast work of unzipping my outer coat but when they dig inside and she finds that I am basically like a human Russian Doll, because I have layer upon layer of clothing on, she bursts out laughing even as I am trying to entice her into another round of tongue war.

“Five, I think you need to remove some of this, or you are going to spontaneously combust.”

“Too late, I think I am already on fire, Amore mio.” I boldly lift my hips, while pulling her up against the bulge in my pants that I am not even sure she knows is there because of the sheer amount of thermal insulation between us. Fee actually looks a little nervous as she glances over my shoulder, looking out the window at the storm for a second or two before locking eyes with me again. “Was that okay?” I worriedly ask.

“Yes.”

I don’t think a one-word answer could ever give me more relief, but then again, I just finally declared my love for her and she isn’t running for the hills, and I also just realized she loves me more than as a friend, so I’m pretty much on cloud nine thousand nine hundred and ninety zillion.

"Amore mio, posso portarti al nostro letto?" I question as I glance over at our bed.    (My love, can I take you to our bed?)

“Five, you must be confused. You know I don’t speak your and Dolores’s secret love language.”

True. Fee doesn’t speak Italian, that’s one of the reasons I use it when speaking to Dolores. That way this firey little redhead can’t understand what we are talking about.

I don’t speak French fluently, but Fee does, so for her, I’ll give it a whirl.

“Mon amour, puis-je vous livrer à notre lit?” I nervously bite my lip as I wait for her reply. (My love, may I deliver you to our bed?)

Fee’s beautiful blue eyes wrinkle at the corners. “Oui.”

Not wanting to let her go yet, I summon all my strength as I start to stand but lifting her up with me turns out way easier than I thought because she’s so light, and the moment she realizes what I’m doing, she locks her legs around my waist.

My heart is fucking racing from adrenalin as carry her across the small room and drop her down on the bed.

“Are you sure?”

“Sì, il mio cuore,” she whispers as she looks back up at me with a wicked smirk.   (Yes, my heart.)

That was a big wonderful yes, and to my surprise, it was in perfect Italian, meaning Phoebe has been bull shitting me for months saying she doesn’t understand a word I say to Dolores. As my mind is reeling, thinking of all the little things she’s no doubt been picking up on, her hands fall on the hem of her sweater, pulling it up over her head, before tossing it over one of the bed posts.

I stop breathing and I think my heart stops all together.

There are those perfect breasts I wanted to see so badly when my hands were on them five years ago.

Not thinking, with only my outer coat off and my snow pants unzipped and pulled part way down, I stumble over them in my haste to get closer to her again.

Fee laughs when I crash land on the bed but try to play it off like I meant to do it.

“Oh my God, Five. I love having you around, you are such a sexy klutz.”

Eyes fixed on her, I anxiously yank my pants off and start working on my two extra layers of sweaters. “Baby, I’m here for whatever you need, even if it’s your daily dose of comic relief. Just don’t tell anyone that I let you get away with all your cute teasing shit or I'll be forced to punish you.”

She laughs again. “Har-har, Mr. Scary. There’s no one to tell other than Dolores and she already knows you’re a big closet softy and she thinks your hilarious too.”

Having pulled my head out of my last heavy layer, I hesitate, trying to decide if I should take of my cotton long sleeve.

Fuck it.  Fee has seen the good, the bad and the ugly and she still loves me for some reason. Right now, I am pretty sure my hair is sticking straight up, and she looks like she could care less about how stupid I look.

“Hey,” I sternly admonish, “Dolores doesn’t pick on me. That’s your thing and yours alone, and it's high time you get fucked with.” I hit her back with the most menacing look I can.

Laying splayed out waiting for me in all her bare breasted glory, Fee merely shrugs as if she is not at all intimated and she knows that’s not true about Dolores. The damn thing of it is, my fucked-up brain is instantly wondering what kinds of things Dolores tells her about me when I’m not around, because that was lie. Dolores fucks with me all the time.

Thinking of Dolores again, I spontaneously blink over to her, quickly facing her body that way so she’s a part of this too. She’s been waiting for it, so there’s no way I’m going to deny my lovely loyal lady.

When I blink back, I land on top of Fee with my elbows supporting the weight from my upper half, but my lower half is flush with hers, pressing into the space between her legs with intent. I immediately start kissing her again and she lets me, but she also seems to be unable to stop laughing, so I halt my attack.

“What was that all about?” she breathlessly asks as she looks up at me with her beautiful smile and her rosy cheeks illuminating the rest of her beauty to a starling degree.

Pulling together all the confidence I can, I quirk a brow at her as I move my hand closer to her cheek, letting my fingers tenderly brush against it. “Dolores likes to watch. Didn’t she tell you that?”

“Watch what?” she pushes back sounding so innocent but the look in her eyes is anything but.

“You want to see?”

“Yes,” she taunts as if she thinks she can call my bluff.

Wrong.

My body is so revved-up from pent up horniness, and this siren of a woman lying under me just asked for it, and she knows me in ways no one else ever will, so I figure why not. I have little to no shame left.

With no warning, I drop my face down against her neck, as I drive my cock down between her legs.

“Oh, fuck me, I love your legs!” I groan out with my nose pressed up just under her ear as my hand at her side moves to grip her thigh and I rut into her.

Fee lets out a sound of shock over me saying that and doing this, but when it turns into a whimper and her head fall to the side to give me more access, I increase my efforts both with the rock of my hips and my mouth. To answer back to that, she rips one of my hands off the bed, forcing my hot palm down over her breast. That lets me know for sure that she’s more than okay with me showering her with the kinds of affections Dolores is used to, and that in playing out my perversions, I’m actually doing something right.

Letting myself go, I begin kissing her sweet smelling skin any way that I see fit, soft, hard, nips, and licks, it all feels so good, so I grind myself into her harder, my core muscles flexing and my hips moving as if I am fucking her even though I am not inside her and I have never fucked anything other than my hand, her mouth, and too many inanimate objects to count, including hundreds of cushions and pillows, but also sometimes my Dolores.

Phoebe is so soft and responsive, and I know Dolores is seeing all this and loving it, and that is messing with me, but because I’m clearly a warped little bastard, it’s turning me on even more.

Again, with no warning, I stop dry humping Fee, quickly sitting up off her so I can latch on to the tops of her leggings, but I stop short of pulling them down, looking up at her hopefully.

“I want to make you feel good too, will you please show me how?” I ask.

Fee’s wide eyes move from mine, downwards, stopping on my crotch area where my pants are sticking out in a very notable way. 

She giggles at the sweet tent I'm proudly sporting, then says, “You were already doing a pretty nice job of things, but I can teach you if you want. First, you need to take those sweatpants off before you hurt yourself.” 

I glance down at my hard-on, then back at her with a big smirk on my face. “I am very skilled when it comes to sexual rubbing with my clothes on, but I can see your point. You first though."

I purse my lips as I narrow my eyes at her. She responds by lifting her hips so I can pull her leggings off.

Oh fuck. She's wearing red panties!

She had a similar pair on the night I met her. 

Both her brows lift as her grin spreads the more I stare. “Five, sweetie... Take your pants off right now or I'll make you."

“Oh, really,” I cockily taunt back, but I lose all my bravado when she drops her hand between her legs and slowly starts rubbing her fingers over the lacey fabric that is creating a ‘v’ over her mysterious lady parts.

“Yes, really. Now take them off,” Fee orders.

Eyes trained on her hand, I quickly kick them off, then come back to her, on my knees with my hard shaft in hand, at the ready.

“What do I do?”

Her hand slides up and under her panties, pushing them down as her knees come up so she can get them off. The red lace goes flying over my head and boy do I love those red panties, but holy shit do I love them more on the floor.

“First, what you do is, you touch me, like this.” Fee slips her index finger between her folds, pressing the tip down as she slides it up and down, slowly but firmly.

Wetting my lips with my tongue, I flip my head to the side, anxiously flicking my hair out of my eyes as my hand reflexively works my cock.

“Five, it’s unbelievably hot watching you do that while I touch myself but even as good of a student as I know you are, the best way to learn is hands on, not just to observe.”

I need no other invitation. Coming down over her again, the sensation of flesh on flesh has every nerve ending in my body supercharged. As I carefully mold myself to one of her legs, Fee reaches out, taking my shaking hand, placing it where hers had just been and already I am a changed man.

Fuck...

Chapter Six: Ain't No Place for a Hero to Call Home

Holding the woman that you love while you sleep is akin to transcending into a supernatural place where you are lighter than air and all your worries just float away. Waking up next to your lover is even better.

I know that me saying that is a lot like that whimsical crap dad warned me with the day I took off and ended up in here, but just like that crazy sliding along ice then descending blindly as an acorn bullshit that I should have listened to, this is also so fucking true.

I am certain that the magical reactions of a woman’s body to different forms of touch will never cease to amaze me. In my opinion, females are much more complex than men, both mentally and sexually, but despite that, I am absolutely going to ace the art of getting my girl off. I probably never will figure out her beautiful mind, but this, finding ways to make her all mine, over and over again, I will master this glorious deed.

“Am I doing it right, Professor Honey Bunny?”

I purposefully hum my silly words against the nap of Fee’s neck, nuzzling my nose up into her hairline as I breathe in her flowery scent and rub my slicked cock up and down between her ass cheeks.

First lesson when it comes to real women, and it’s one that I managed to figure out without Fee outright telling me, is that they love it when you whisper or speak softly anywhere near their ear.

The second lesson is that they also love it when you are boldly willing to let go of shame and fall all over them with your adoring and sometimes perverted affections. Nothing proves your love than letting your defenses down and not being scared that they see who you really are, which for me is a total perv and a major dork.

When Phoebe doesn’t answer my question with anything other than a muted sighing sound, I find that’s not good enough for my continued educational purposes, so I up my game, sliding my fingers faster between her legs.

“How about this?” I try again.

Fee reacts to that change of pace quick enough, her bottom pushing back against me, pressing my erection even tighter between us as her head falls back against my shoulder while she moans so perfectly wantonly.

Getting a much better reaction, I can’t resist my excitement or sinking my teeth into the soft curve of her neck, applying just enough pressure to make her mouth fall open as she releases a quick and very feminine sounding rush of air with the hint of the letter ‘F’ in it.

Whether she meant that as my name or fuck, doesn’t matter, both are good with me.

My mouth goes back to applying much gentler kisses. Eventually, I move my licks and kisses to her ear again where I then drag my tongue along the shell of it before I let my breath cascade down, tickling the moist trail I just left on her skin.

Her body shivers and wriggles against me.

“I’ll take that as a, yes?” I smart back, not at all trying to hide how proud I am.

Lesson three when it comes to real women is knowing that you have the power to make them writhe is a huge turn on. Thanks to Fee’s guidance, I am now capable of driving her crazy, but as my clever girl already knew, that’s a win for both parties.

My lady love lets out the prettiest little laugh when I nip her again. “Yes, Five,” she giggles. “What you are doing feels so unbelievably good. Congratulations, you can consider yourself graduated with honors when it comes to finger fucking and ass humping.”

I know Fee’s teasing me for being so arrogant and because I am literally fucking her butt cheeks, but she does so lightly, while also tenderly running her hand over the top of mine as it fervently works her.

Wanting to mess with her more, I force myself to speak as seriously as possible as I add, “That’s good you are enjoying my latest break of dawn boner on your ass attack, but I’m trying for doctoral level mastery in all subjects ‘getting off.’ So ready yourself, little firecracker, because I am going to be doing major research and it’s starting with documenting all the ways I can hump you and make you cum at the same time.”

Fee’s body starts jiggling again as she starts laughing at me in her delightfully breathless way. I knew she’d get a kick out of more of my jackass commentary, and that’s the point of it. Adding to her already losing it over my usual absurdity, I start passionately rutting my dick up on her like a mindless wild animal.

“See,” I exclaim, “You better hang on, honey. It’s going to get very bumpy.”

“You mean, humpy,” she corrects, still laughing at me.

I love making Fee laugh, she is the joy in my life I never had before.

Since our Christmas weekend together a month and half ago, Fee has taught me plenty about what makes women feel good, and I have been one hell of an eager student for her. I can blame my fervor for all things sex related on my younger age all I want, but Fee is well aware that it’s not just that.

The escapism of her body and the sheer bliss of shutting out all else while in the act of searching for my release is entirely addicting for me. During my first years alone here, it’s the only thing I had that took me away from my suffering. It became a near daily reward system for surviving this hell. Now I still cling to it, but not so much for the same reasons.

Fee is my everything.

She makes me so unbelievably happy every day in the simplest of ways that have nothing to do with sex. That said, feeling my cock slip and slide on Phoebe is otherworldly. So much better than dry humping pillows and harder objects that chaff and dry out much faster when my pre-cum and spit fail me. I tend to prolong my sexual exploits for as long as I possibly can and playing with Fee and her seemingly infinite ability to stay wet for me is fucking great.

I dig my fingers into her slender waist, searching for more leverage as my hips frantically pump my cock against her. Through the sweaty fringe of my hair, I can see Dolores in her chair next to us. Her cheeks are flushed so beautifully from lasciviously watching me take Fee like this. As thrilled as she looks by my valiant efforts to entertain her, I can’t help but notice that she also looks slightly pissed.

Five Hargreeves-Brainless insensitive jerk.

I am sorry. I meant no offense, sweetheart. I like the fact that you are hard and that we have our own special way of doing this. Your smooth, wonderfully cool breasts are still high up there on my list of favorite places to fuck. I’ll prove it to you later if our little red head is down to watch, but right now, I’m a-

“Oh, fuck!” I moan, my forehead pressing against Fee’s neck.

I am about to come already, and thinking about going full freak mode with Dolores while Fee watches, and maybe if I am lucky even joins the fun by playing with herself, isn’t helping reign it in.

Easing back a little, I force myself to push down the growing tension in my belly and the tightening waves of pleasure threatening to burst from my loins. Then I shove my whole hand down lower, pressing Fee’s pubic mound against my palm to keep applying proper fiction while my index finger begins dipping inside her tight entrance.

“Ahh -hha, ya-ye..ssss,” Fee whines so endearingly.

I risk glancing at Dolores again and she offers me one of her warm smiles.

‘That’s it, Five. Just focus on Fee a little longer. I’m not mad that you enjoy this. Don’t worry about me. You know I only want what’s best for you and this is.’

As always, Dolores' encouragement over Fee and I is never ending, and I love her so much for it. I love them both so much, and I know I’m nuts for entertaining all this madness still, but I can’t help it. I still hear Dolores even though now I am not alone anymore. Amazingly, Fee is just as understanding as her, because she lets me get away with this crazy shit too.

Listening to Dolores, I let go of Fee’s hip to further disengage myself. Instead, I latch onto one of her warm breasts, probably too roughly, but she doesn’t complain, so I don’t stop aggressively groping her.

“Baby, I want to fuck these sweet tits of yours so bad. I am going to make a mess of you when I paint your beautiful chest with my sticky seed.”

Fee’s laughter bursts out of her. “Five, you are so freaking cute. I love it when you try to talk dirty.”

“Cute?” I grunt in shock. “I am not cute, and I am not trying, honey. I am dirty.”

Finding a jerking rhythm, of hard, then soft, hard than soft, I show my girls just how I like it, and that I am not ‘cute.’ Knowing that Fee is plenty ready for it, I finally let two fingers plunge all the way inside her, angling them up the way she taught me so I am hitting her right where she can’t help but cry out.

“Yes, Five! Y-e-e-e-s-s-s-”

One of many other lessons about sex I’ve learned is that the build to the finish is over ninety percent the fun of it, so taking it slow at first and upping the level of intensity as you go is key to being a good lover.

Thank you, Fee.

My smile fortifies my words, as I keep up my pace inside her and up my filth factor. “I know just how wet it gets you two lovely ladies when I talk about blowing my load on you, and I love how open-minded you both are of my objectionable behaviors, but it looks like you’re going to have to wait for that titty fucking another time. I am very close, and Dolores is right, you need to come first. Is this going to be enough to get you there or do you want me to fuck you with my mouth too?”

“Fiv-ive-yo-you are fucking mee-ee just fine as you are, don’t you thhhh-ink?” Fee stammers as I slam against her.

“I could do better, honey. I know I can.”

I’d stop humping Fee and dive pussy deep like I said, but I honestly want to be next her, wrapped around her, because this feels like I am actually fucking her, or as close as I can get to it.

Fuck, do I want to stick my dick inside her and make her come with it. With me. I think about it all the time.

It’s not so much that this isn't enough, because it is. It’s just that we can’t do that. We can do everything but that.

Fee had plenty of medical supplies, personal care items, and medicine and other valuable things with her when she arrived here, but no birth control methods of any kind. She didn’t need it.

Since our being together like this, neither of us have found anything in our scavenging that looks like it’s still any good or worth the risk of trying it. Thanks to the nature of condoms being extremely thin latex, they unfortunately did not survive the intense heat of the near atomic blasts. And the birth control pills and other options that we’ve found are always melted in their packaging or destroyed from exposure and moisture.

Like so many things, birth control in the apocalypse is a problem.

Talk of having a child together is something we have only done in terms of getting back to the real world first. Once the world isn’t going to end and we are safe from the dangers of our current situation, then I want nothing more than to someday have a family with Phoebe if we can. Here, the risks are something I refuse to entertain. I can’t lose Fee. Just the thought of something bad happening to her because of complications from a pregnancy makes me sick.

This, what we have, is more than I ever dreamed possible.

“Fee, I love you so much. Come on, fuuu-ccckkk,” I anxiously groan, because I’m almost there again.

I feel her squirming as she searches for anything to ground her. Her small feet eventually end up locked around my own, helping to anchor us both. My fingers keep getting the tell tail sign that her climax is coming because her body keeps tensing around them as her breaths hitch for longer and longer periods.

Letting go again, I pull back enough to take my reddened cock in hand, directing it between her legs to re-wet it. The sensation makes my head feel dizzy.

“Oh fuck, yes, Five ! That’s it, leave it there. Baby, fuck me,” she moans.

Yup, I love the sound of that, but I don’t understand what she wants. I can’t fuck her like this. Not really.

Still positioned with my hips pressed up behind her and my length in my hand that’s wedged up against her delicious wet cunt, Fee begins to tighten her thighs around me.

I pull in a very unsteady breath as I loudly and frantically pant her name. “Fee?!”

My voice sounds so young, so unsure with its higher-than-normal pitch, but it's only because I am totally freaking out.

“Five, it’s ok. Do it like this. We will be super careful.” With my chin resting on her shoulder, I watch as Fee reaches out and grabs her shirt off the table next to her side of the bed. She tightens on me even more, her slender thighs working hard to encase me between them where my cock is now lying as motionless as my hand.

“I don’t-"

I don’t know what to say…

Fee reaches down, dragging my hand away from her heat.

“Fee?” I question again as my tacky fingers fall against her hip.

“It’s okay. This will feel just as good to me as your fingers. Just do it. Pretend you are fucking me, please, do it. I want to feel you like this so bad.”

I want it too.

Fuck.

As if her words are a knife to my throat, I instantly react, pulling back just enough to not slip all the way out of this confined love trap she made in the cavass between her legs, shoving back into her warmth.

And yeah. The feel of her desire wetting me as I slide, her swollen folds encasing me while her thighs tremble from her effort to keep them tightly clenched, it’s…

“Fuck,” I grunt as I thrust faster, making her have to cling to my hands on her hips where I now have them both locked, keeping us latched together.

That’s it.

This is too fucking great.

I can’t think of an objection no matter how hard I try.

It’s not like Fee hasn’t let me run my cock over her sex before, but I have only done it very cautiously from the front for fear of getting even the tiniest amount of my semen inside her.

This… It’s so close, so dangerous, but it’s so damn incredible. I could just slip inside her. I know I could. I can see it in my mind. I know the head of my cock is pushing out between her legs, covered in her love for me, and soon I won’t be able to contain my explosive desire for her as it streams out on the bedding. I’m going to pretend it is filling Fee, and I am very good at pretending.

Thinking about doing that, my body flames with fresh sparks of ecstasy, and I let loose, fucking her as fast as I can.

The increased friction is enough for Fee to dig her short fingernails across the tops of my hands, causing them to sting. Thankfully, even though I’m on another planet doing this, I feel it when her body begins to shudder in that familiar way that makes me so fucking proud every time it happens.

“Ohhh-fff, this feels so fucking-” I growl out as deeply as I can just below her ear as she gives herself over to her orgasm. “Fee, this feels so fucking-” I can’t even finish. I bite down viciously on my lower lip as I rail her, my pelvis absolutely thwacking against her round rosy ass, making the most wonderful kind of sound from our hot and sweaty skin-to-skin contact. “Ffff-"

My back arches and my eyes slam shut as my hips shunt in a very non rhythmic pattern. I am only partly aware of the sensation of Fee releasing my cock from her clamped together legs so she can jerk me through the last currents of utterly mind-blowing fuck tingles that are violently ripping through me.

Once I have some of my brain back at my disposal, I very groggily open my eyes. “That was…fuck .”

Fee laughs as she wipes me clean with her shirt. “Yes. Yes, it was. Another job well done, mon amour. You are the best student ever, but I am not at all surprised by that.”     (My love-in French)

“Ti amo così tanto, prometto che non mi lascerai mai...” I whisper back, shutting my eyes again as I nuzzle my face against her neck. Soon I am falling into one of my many early morning naps while spooning the woman I love. We never even left our bed to start the day, but I'm right where I want to be.   (I love you so much, promise you will never leave me-in Italian),

~~~~~~~~~~

On the couch behind me, I hear the slow rhythmic strum of another cord. I love it when Fee plays like this. Between the soothing sounds of the guitar and the sound of the early spring rain softly pattering our metal roof, I feel so unbelievably relaxed and content.

I know I am not supposed to be happy living life in the apocalypse, but with Fee, I am. I am more settled and happier than I have ever been. I can easily pretend that we are in our own little world by choice, not because we are the only ones left, and I often find that I do and can’t help it. I am just that happy. I am in love with the perfect girl, and she is in love with me too.

I smile as I peek behind me. Phoebe senses me looking and looks up. She smiles back at me as she strums and plucks the strings, effortlessly making a song that is as beautiful as she is.

“My red-headed one, I want to be your everything…” I begin to sing as I fish around in the soapy water looking for another fork that I know is in there. “Fill your plate with me, lick and lap all you want, baby. I am all yours… I want to be consumed by your love…”

My impromptu attempt at serenading my lady love, and calling her by the literal and very fitting definition of her last name, is met with the breathy sound of Fee trying not to laugh at my very stupid lyrics.

I drop my cleaned dish in the drying rack and pick up another, using my cloth to scrub off the remnants of the shockingly satisfying wild mushrooms and rice that we made for dinner. There’s still no major growth outside of any kind, but that’s not stopping my crafty girl from finding all kinds of interesting and safe to eat fungus, or from attempting to start some seeds in the uncontaminated soil inside our green house. Maybe, if we are very lucky, by the time the longer warmer days fully set in, we will have fresh vegetables every now and then.

We love to fight over which will be better, the tomatoes or the cucumbers. Like the immature fool I am, I tell Fee she only thinks the cucumbers are going to better because they remind her of my amazing dick. She tells me I am amazing, but not just because my male parts are very nice. Fee always finds ways to tease me and feed my relentless ego. Finding that delicate balance to keep me in check is just one of her many talents.

Talking stupid and naughty always gets my lady smiling, so I am always going to do it. There is no shortage of love between us or laughs. Food on the other hand is, and always will be an issue for us. Even with the stores of dry things like rice and beans, and vacuum sealed seeds for potential future plantings that were left here, we still worry.

Thinking of food…

I loudly clear my throat, letting Fee know she’s in for another good line. “I want to be your breakfast in bed. I’ll be your food. I’ll run your bubble bath, make you laugh…  Tu me fais voir la vie en rose,” I croon, adding that last bit as French as I can, but even if it's wrong, I make sure to use my best sexy voice I can produce.  ('You make me see life in pink'-meaning, with you, I see life as perfect or through rose colored glasses- a similar line from the song Vie en Rosa.)

“Oh my God!” she sputters. “That’s it, Hargreeves. You are killing me over here. I’m not so sure about this ‘you being my food’ thing that you’re going on about, but in case you weren't already aware of it, you are one hell of a very sexy muse. Come here and let me teach you something new, you big goof.”

More than ready to please my girl, I excitedly pull the plug on the wash basin and aimlessly chuck my rag before bounding over to her. Crashing in next to her on our tiny loveseat, I look over at her with a big stupid smile as I try to suggestively wiggle one eyebrow at her. It’s a total sexy fail, and I know it, but that’s the point. Fee thinks I am irresistibly sexy when I am silly and that's because I am not normally a silly person.

It's all for her.

Another lesson with women, they like it if you are smart, but they don’t need to be reminded of it, especially if it’s in the arrogant, ass-hole-ish way I used to lay on thick for pretty much everyone.

“Teach away, baby. Like I said, I am all yours,” I push when she merely eyes me with that pretty smirk of hers.

When Fee doesn’t put the guitar away, that should have been the first sign she wasn’t planning on teaching me something new in the form of pleasuring her. But it wasn’t because I am a total boner.

Taking my hand in hers, she shifts my arms so that the black body of the instrument is in my lap, not hers. Placing my left hand on the neck, she positions my fingers around it so the pads of each are pressing down on different strings.

“There,” she says, “You are going to learn to play.”

“I am?”

“Yes.” It takes her a second to stop laughing at how baffled I am. “If you can sing, which you can, albeit somewhat more humorously than sincerely, then you can play and sing. They always complement each other nicely and it's fun. You just need to learn a few basic cords and then you can really get my panties wet with your mad skills.”

“I think I am good with having you as my own personal music box, sweet peaches.” I try to hand the guitar back but she pushes it away, shaking her head.

“Nope, you need a healthy hobby other than running all your big fancy numbers, and trying to find all the ways you can fuck me without fucking me.”

“Those are healthy hobbies.," I said defensively. "You said having a big libido was a good thing for a guy my age.”

Fee ignores that valid point as she stuffs a pillow down behind my back, then she pushes herself up so she can snake her body in behind mine. With her chin resting on my shoulder, she wraps her left hand around mine so she can maneuver my fingers how she wants them.

“There, keep that amount of pressure on those positions and bring your right hand down over the strings like this, Mr. Peaches.”

Her other hand lovingly brushes against my side before it finds my free hand, placing it how she means, with my palm flush against the body of the guitar. “Use the side of your thumb for now, and if you find that you like a pick better later, go for it. Anything goes, it’s all personal preference.”

Moving my hand for me, my thumb lightly jumps over the strings, one by one. I am shocked that a sound rings out that is not awful.

Fee kisses my neck from behind which increases my smile. “You know, I only call you peaches because they are my favorite canned food, and they are orange and sweet and they remind me of you. And I really like what you’re doing back there, ginger,” I say, leaning my head back so she is forced to press her lips on me again.

“I know you do,” she purrs, “but I am not orange. That ‘G’ major wasn’t bad, but your nicknames are. With your long, very clever fingers, you’ll be plucking those strings like a real wild West Virginia mountain man in no time.”

“I’d rather pluck your strings,’ I hum right back.

I can feel Fee’s mouth spread as her warm breath dances over my skin, sending wonderful shivers up my spine.

Maybe thinking I am cold, maybe not, within seconds of her focusing her energy on it, the hearth is filled with flames, working their way through the brush and other smaller pieces of kindling I put in there earlier. She didn’t even have to touch it to ignite it, and that is not the only thing she’s setting on fire.

Having her pressed in behind me like this… Yeah. It’s giving me ideas, but then again, so is her hand gently rubbing my thigh.

“Pay attention,” Fee scolds as she fights with my left hand to get it over the strings again.

Once they are placed differently, she guides my right hand again, only this time down, up, down, down, and up, in a different pattern, skipping the lowest sounding string every time. Again, it doesn’t sound bad. It sounds like music.

“That’s a ‘C’ chord. Not the easiest stretch for some but it’s looking easy enough for a very handsome drink of water like yourself. These fingers of yours, Hargeeves-damn. They are so long and useful,” she teases.

“I am slim and long limbed, but I am not attractive or tall, so saying that colloquial expression doesn’t really apply to me,” I correct.

"Wrong. You are very attractive and compared to me, you are tall,” she laughs.

“Only part true," I laugh back.

I am at least two inches taller than my little woman and I love it. I reverse the positions of our right hands. Gently stroking her hand, the strings under her fingers ring out again, but this time, I am pretty sure not in the way they should.

“Speaking of size, and my long, brilliant fingers, things are getting substantially lengthier in my pants the more you press that hot body of yours on me like that. I think we should do music lessons later. Right now, I think you should keep kissing my neck like that, while I teach you how to give me a reach around whack off.”

“Oh, you think so, do you?”

“Uh-huh,” I softly murmur, placing her hand on my leg again, moving it towards my sizable problem just so she’s fully aware that I’m not completely joking. Once her hand is on me, she gets it, and I know she's going to give in to my audacious request.

I can’t help but let my head flop back and my mouth drop open. My lids automatically close as I relish the feel of her touching me even if it’s just over my pants. “Maybe when you're done taking care of me, I can get on my knees, sit you back, and return the favor?” My words come out so incredibly strained already.

“I would love for you to do that, but first you are going to learn two more chords. Then you will be able to play something satisfying right away.”

"This is already pretty damn satisfying," I argue.

To that remark I get nothing, but her hand does keep moving up and down as I shift myself so she can get at my restrained shaft a little better. Being a musician who can do two very different things with her hands at the same time, she fiddles my clenched fingers on the neck of the guitar in a new way even while stroking me. “Try that one,” she commands, with her mouth tickling the back of my ear.

Right hand shaking, I bring it down over the strings again, making a pleasant sound that is a little deeper sounding.

“Good. That’s an A major.” Fee slides her right hand up my torso, bringing it back down inside the waistband of my pants.

“Fuck Fee. This feels so good,” I breathe when I feel the flesh of her warm hand directly on me.

“I know, baby, and you are doing so good. Just one more, I promise,” she says as she holds the head of my cock in her hand, her thumb rubbing back and forth on the underside, causing me to helplessly whimper. I hardly notice my left hand being repositioned as she spreads my pearly seed round and round my swollen tip. “Again, but try to only hit the four bottom strings,” she says, letting her words vibrate along my upper spine. I strum the strings with an even more unsteady hand. “That’s a D chord. We will save the B and several other nice ones for our next lesson. I am proud of you, Five.”

My hips shunt as Fee brings her hand down over my length again. “You are?” I ask in a fresh moan as she runs her hand further south, tenderly fondling my balls.

“I always am,” Phoebe claims, then kisses the back of my neck so torturously slow, in pace with how she’s handling my cock.

My jaw clenches and I force myself to relax. “Honey. You are driving me crazy.”

“I know. Payback's a bitch, isn’t it?”

Dropping my right hand, I push it inside my already stretched sweatpants, clamping my fingers around hers, forcing her to grip me tighter.

“Harder,” I demand as I show her what I mean, working her hand over me at a much more brutal pace. “This isn’t going to take long,” I warn. Like I usually do, my hips start fucking back up into her hand, increasing the feel that I am actually fucking her. “I love you so much, Fee. You are so good to me. Thank you,” I breathe, releasing her so she can get to it on her own. I reach next to me, grasping her right leg, my knuckles going white as my fingers dig into her calf.

“Rrrhhhaa, Ffffffff,” I groan through clenched teeth as my cock slides up and down in her hand at the pace that makes my brain completely turn off.

Fee’s lips caress my skin, moving along the back side of my shoulder over the fabric of my cotton shirt and back up again. “Five, you are one very horny young man, and I wouldn’t want you any other way because you are young, and you have every right to be horny. I love you too,” she says, letting her words softly vibrate my spine again. “Now, be a good boy and set that beautiful present you gave me down before you accidentally drop it. I am about to get really good for you, baby.”   

Holy fuck. I have no idea what chords I just learned, but I know that I will never forget my first guitar lesson.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bent over with my elbows on my knees, I rock back and forth, my heart racing as my fingers yank at my shaggy hair.

"Mother fucker of all fuckers!"

“Five, take a break,” Fee declares over my tenth outburst in the last half hour.

Opening my tightly clamped eyes, I wearily drag them across the yard in her direction. She is lying under the jeep, trying to see if there’s anything she can do about the cracked coil on the left rear tire. She thinks it happened the night she saved me, but since then we haven’t found a part to fix it. That’s not really the biggest problem though, because the thing won’t start anyway. Sitting all winter didn’t help, but Fee is almost certain that's because of a faulty starter, and we have nothing to fix that either.

With my lack of mechanical know-how, I can do little to help her diagnose all our many vehicle problems. Instead of getting greasy with her, most of the last two days of it finally not blowing like mad while the angry sky also dumped torrents of rain on us, I have been sitting outside with her, plunked down in my rusty old chair, swearing up a whole different kind of shit storm.

I can’t come up with anything that even remotely solves the issue of overcoming the indirect curvature of time and the rapid acceleration of energy needed to traverse it. Going forward when it comes to time travel was child’s play compared to going back. It’s all new, never done before math and concepts, and even with all that I know about it and having actually jumped years forward at a time, I am stumped.

“I can’t fucking figure this out,” I yell as I throw my latest scribble filled notebook down on the grass.

Hearing me really flipping out, Fee pushes herself out from under the vehicle and comes my way, stopping with her oily hands on her hips as she squints at me.

After a moment of silence, she reaches for her hat that’s hanging on the arm of my chair, plunking it down on her head so the sun isn't in her eyes. “You know, I can’t figure this shit out either, but you don’t hear me swearing every two minutes. Getting mad is never helpful. Why don’t you take a break?”

I don’t answer. My eyes dart away from her judgmental looking gaze.

She sighs loudly while bonking my foot with one of her sandals, and that makes me feel like I have to look back. When our eyes meet again, Fee gives me one of her sympathetic looks. “You will figure it out, Five.”

“Yeah, you don’t know that!” I bark back.

Clearly not liking that, she throws her hands up, shaking her head at me. “Maybe you just need something else to go on. We could go back to the city. You said the library there wasn’t a total loss. I am sure we can find texts in the ruins that will have some ideas you can use to expand your theories. I know you’ve been stuck on this for months. I am sorry. I know it’s driving you crazy but please don’t take it out on me.”

“We’ve talked about this, Fee. We can’t go. It’s so dangerous back there. And now, with the river flooding out all the roads around here, and the jeep not working, we can’t make it anywhere unless it’s on foot.”

“We can’t right now, but we can make the trip at some point. I know we can make it together just fine. You are acting like walking is a problem, but if I recall, that’s how you were getting around for five years before I found you.” She grins. “Has staying here in our luxurious mountain abode made you scared of getting your hands dirty or opposed to a few blisters on your cute feet? I thought we were saving the role of pampered princess for Dolores. Shall I start finding pretty little charms to decorate you with too? You know, you would look nice in sequins,” she says with a small laugh at the end.

“Real Nice,” I snap. “Why do you always have to act like you have all the answers? When it comes to this, you clearly don't know what the hell you are talking about. I have been in New York, you haven't! You think that your opinion is the only one that matters. It's like you enjoy making me feel like a little kid!

Fee instantly looks taken aback by my outburst, but she quickly schools her features to hide it. “Five… I was just joking. You know, trying to make you laugh and realize this isn't a big deal. I obviously know you aren't scared of hard work or walking. I never mean to make you feel like a child." She pushes her lips out, looking confused. "I am sorry, I didn't know you felt that I did." She pauses again, looking somewhere over my head with a blankness in her eyes before they come back to mine again. "Five, I don't understand. I am just trying to help.”

“Well, it's not funny and you can’t help with this. So just back off and do your thing and I will do mine!”

Her hands slap against her thighs as she pulls a frown at me. “No , I can’t. You are right. I am sorry that math and time travel really aren’t my thing, but I do my best with what I can help with, even if sometimes that’s putting up with your big boy tantrums.”

I cock my head, glaring at her as my shoulders rise with a tick like twitch that makes my growing anger and inability to control it blatantly obvious, which only pisses me off even more because I'm just proving her right; I am being a baby about this.

Leaving here is a very bad idea and every time Fee mentions it or questions how far I am getting with my calculations, my defenses trigger on a level that I am having a harder and harder hiding.

I feel like she’s trying to set me off on purpose, so I yell, “Fee. Just stop patronizing me, okay!”

“I am not doing that! I am just trying to make you realize that getting mad isn't going to help you.” She swallows several times trying to calm herself back down. Her eyes fall on the ground at my feet as she tosses her wrench back over by her other tools. “You know…” She pauses and my narrowed eyes come back to take on her fresh, icy blue glare. “I probably shouldn't say this, but sometimes I wonder if you are confusing the importance of what we have here with the reality that nothing is more important than getting back. There’s no reason we can’t go back to the city. You lived there on your own for five years and you survived. It clearly wasn’t as bad as the burning hot death hole you accidentally strolled into. You’ve got me with you now either way. Like I said, we will both be fine. If there's a chance that going will help you find the answers you need, then it's worth it. You know that we can't stay here forever.”

My eyes go wide as I jump out of my chair and get in her face. “I fucking know that, and I know you saved me! I know you are taking care of me, Fee! Do you always have to remind me of that!”

“That's not fair and you know it, and that’s not what I was saying. Why are you being so defensive? I am just pointing out that it’s okay to go and we should if it will help you figure out your math.”

“Phoebe, I know just how important getting back to save the entire fucking world is. Forgive me if I want to keep you safe and not have to bury another person that I love all because of massive amounts of stupid equations that I can’t figure out because I am stupid.”

“You are not stupid, and I am fine, Five. In case you forgot, I got along just fine without you, so with you I’m hardly in any more danger of death than I was before, and I came to this lovely area all the way from Utah so, yeah… Being mad at me for pointing that out, or not, going to New York from here is nothing. Like I said, we will be fine.”

“You just can’t stop, can you?" I furiously spit back. "I am well aware of how good you are at everything and how I nearly died next to a gigantic crater made by the fucking moon because I am an idiot!”

“Urgg! Five why are you being such a shit? I am not saying that!”

“It's because I am an asshole, remember?”

Fee’s expression softens into something that looks almost pained as her lips slowly part and her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Five, you are being an asshole right now, but I know it’s just because you are frustrated, and you are scared. I wouldn’t do something that could mean that I'd lose you either. Us leaving here together won’t risk that. We just need to watch the water levels and wait a little longer and we will be fine. I know we can find a route into the city and avoid the flooding. It may take a week or whatever for the latest storm damage to run its course but…”

She reaches out to take my hand, but like the baby I am being, a flash of electrical blue static surrounds me as I blink myself a few yards away where I reappear and instantly begin to pace with my head down rather than acknowledge what I just did or what she just said.

I hear her aggravated little huff, but I refuse to turn back and look at her.

“Fine. Whatever. You obviously need some space. I am going for a walk,” she mumbles as she marches away.

Hours later, Fee is not back.

I know that I was being awful, and I know I hurt her. I feel horrible about that and not being smart enough to solve the math needed to make this work. She is right as always. I am scared and I irrationally took my anger out on her. I am just mad that I can’t do this. It’s like when I was young and never good enough no matter how hard I tried.

Fee wasn't wrong that taking a break, or even going to the city to look for texts with ideas I can use, would be a smart plan of action, but no, I wouldn't listen. I yelled at her and blamed her for my own shortcomings rather than owning up to the real reason I am upset and digging my feet in.

I am putting being here with her, where I know we are safe, ahead of everyone else, and it’s selfish. As much as Fee loves me, I know being here alone like we are is not what she wants when she knows there’s a chance we can do something to prevent this. It’s not really what I want either, but I have never had this kind of thing with someone, and I am terrified of losing it.

That all lies on me, and I am being a total fuck head about it, and to her.

No wonder she didn’t come back yet.

I was such an epic asshole again and I hardly have me being an emotionally stunted teenager brought up in a house of equally confused kids as an excuse.

Walking down the gravel road to go after her, I have to constantly jump and dart around deep washouts. The rains that came in the last two weeks have been so bad that we are lucky there is any road left. Even so, taking the jeep anywhere or the bike isn’t looking promising even if we can get the damn things started.

When I get close to reaching where the small mountain stream runs alongside the road, I can already hear it, meaning it’s not a small creek anymore. When I get even further down the road, I am surprised to see it is still raging even though it hasn’t rained in over forty-eight hours.

When I get to the end of the line, which shouldn’t be, because it’s actually still about another mile and half before the road levels out and splits to the north and south along the range, I find there’s no road left as far as my eyes can see. The river swept it away.

Days ago, when Fee and I walked down here together, the road was just a little flooded on one side where the banks had spilled over.

Huge trees and branches sweep past me in the viciously churning water, moving so fast that when they slam up against other broken debris and rocks hidden under the muddy water, they make powerful cracking and tearing sounds.

There’s no way Fee went past here but I didn’t pass her so that must mean that she came back another way and I missed her somehow when I went in the house. Since it’s definitely not as sunny or warm over here, I figure that maybe she's wandering around on the other side of the bluff like she likes to do in the afternoon.

Looking up, I see the sun’s rays illuminating just the tops of the remaining trees that still stand tall, like smooth gray, wind torn monuments to what once was part of a vast wooded range formed over 480 million years old. A chill runs up my arms from the breeze blowing through the pass.

Spinning around, looking at the river again, something brightly colored catches my eye.

I walk over and bend down.

It’s a tiny bouquet of early spring purple wildflowers mixed with a few budded shoots from some kind of tree.

Fee loves finding things like this and bringing them back so she can show me and then proudly display them in the colorful glass vase I found for her that sits on our mantel.

“Fee!”

My shout is swallowed by the much louder sound of the water.

My heart sinks when I think about how she wouldn’t have dropped those by accident or just left them like this.

She has to still be near here.

Full-on panicking, I sprint around, searching the area, calling for her, over and over.

She doesn’t answer.

Nothing looks the same as it did a few days ago and I have no idea which way she would have gone. There isn’t really anywhere obvious to go. One side of the road is butted up to a relatively steep rocky cliff and the other is flooded.

Working my way back up along the winding water’s edge I see something.

Back where I just was, where the road had been, I can see that the soil there is darker colored and freshly disturbed compared to the rest of the embankment around it. It’s like it very recently washed out, eroded by the rushing water, causing it to abruptly collapse and disappear like the rest of the road in front of it already has.

Holding my breath, I come as close to the edge as I can without potentially making my weight cause it to collapse again.

“No, no, no! Fee!” I scream when I see Phoebe’s baseball cap down below, stuck a little way out on a half-submerged branch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I searched everywhere for Fee. Up and down the river, over and over. Through the woods, miles and miles around our cabin and I found nothing.

Not another trace of her.

Every day I refused to give up hope that she was out there, somewhere. Maybe she was mad at me still and just not ready to come back yet.

All I wanted was for her to come home.

It wasn’t until almost two weeks later, when the river had become nothing more than a lazy stream again that I found her.

She wasn't far from where she disappeared.

A clump of her long red hair was wrapped around a branch laying on the ground, and at first, I just thought she must have got it stuck on there and she had to have cut it off or something. When I tried to pick up the snarl covered wood, I realized it was stuck down because it was attached to something buried under it. Then, as sickness filled my gut, just a few feet away, partly hidden in a tangle of grass, I saw a familiar rainbowy strappy sandal with a foot in it. It was partly encased in the gray clay. Those two parts of her were the only things of color on the dead landscape.

Seeing that... Finally knowing... My heart broke and so did I.

I couldn't see the rest of her body, but from what I could tell, she was there, only twisted in a sick and unnatural way based on where her head was compared to her feet. My beautiful girl was stuck into the dried mud so hard that it took me hours with my bare hands to get her out, but there was no way I could pull myself away from her to go back for a shovel. Even if I did go get something better to break the ground, I would have been too terrified to use it. She was so hurt already; I couldn't risk hurting her even more.

I wanted to die right there with her.

It felt like I did.

It didn’t matter that she was decomposing, or that her body was brutally ruined by the wrath of the river, once I had her free, I held her to me, begging her to forgive me.

As crazed as I was, my fractured mind wouldn’t give me the solace of letting her answer my pleas. Her voice is one I could not conjure but that didn't stop me from trying.

I tried to blink with her to get her back but the first time I landed with her, just up the dried embankment, her body tore apart, and I knew I couldn't go further with her that way.

Like a mindless zombie, covered in dirt and the pungent smell of human decay, I eventually made it back to the cabin. I don't remember that walk or the walk back to her. Near dark, I pulled my wagon up the mountain pass, loaded with Fee's small, battered body in a blanket on top of it. As I wheeled her along, all my mind could do was think about getting her somewhere safe.

Once I finally had her to our home, I couldn’t bury her.

I couldn’t think.

My mind at that point was more gone than it had ever been. I was mad with rage one minute then sobbing endlessly the next.

Days later, with no other choice but to give her dignity, I finally buried Phoebe under an old, dead black ash tree that she had always said would have been so beautiful if it were alive still.

Unable to leave her, I stayed at our cabin for two more months. I hardly ate. I hardly slept more than a few hours at a time, but when I did, it was clinging to her pillow, pretending that the faint traces of her scent meant that she was still with me.

When I left, it was only because I had finally pulled myself together enough to face the horrible world again and because it was the only way I could save her.

That thought alone is what held me together.

Like the day I lost her, I was stuck. Stuck inside myself, stuck with my calculations, and stuck blaming myself for something that I knew deep down Phoebe would tell me was wrong for me to be doing.

She would have said it was an accident. Fee never wanted me to suffer. She always said that none of this was my fault.

But it was.

I know that she went for that walk because of how unfair I was being to her.

She was upset by my behavior, and she had reason to be.

I know the only reason Fee went down to the river’s edge that day was because she was checking to see how bad it was. She wanted to help me and leaving to go back to the city seemed like the best option in her mind.

But, even getting to the city and my library, I remained stuck, unable to perfect the math that I needed to get back. I was trapped there another thirty-eight years, alone except for Dolores. After that, Dolores did all she could do to comfort me, just like she always did. We eventually picked up our old routine, but the reality was, neither of us could ever move on from losing Fee.

Even in my time with The Commission after The Handler came to pluck me out of my hell, I suffered for my sins, just in new ways.

I don’t think I could ever hate myself so much as I did that day I found Phoebe’s body, but as it turns out, almost a lifetime later, I did thanks to my years of killing innocent people all in the name of maintaining the generally accepted timeline for a corrupt space time continuum organization ran by a bunch of creepy manipulative self-serving fucks.

As long as it has been, no matter how many years pass, and how unredeemable I become, I still love my Fee.

For her and for everyone else, I will figure out this mess I've made.

I promised her I would, and I won't stop until I do or until I have no choice in the matter.

No matter what, every single day, I never give up hope that I will someday be deserving of seeing her smiling face again.

Someday...

Chapter Seven: Epilogue (Oblivion Park)

Klaus puts both his hands out in front of him, wiggling his fingers as he concentrates. "Alakazam, ghosties!"

And...nothing.

Our newly alive again ghost whispering brother looks very perplexed at his inability to use his powers, as do all of us.

After the recently resurrected, much less ape-like looking Luther finishes angrily grabbing me by my collar, yelling at me about Sloane being missing from our group, I am forced to tell him I have no idea where she is. He clearly thinks this is my fault and he does not look pleased when I add that she may not even be in this new utopian version of the world our dad and Allison must have created with that little coup they pulled back in the hotel hell that miraculously had been right here a few minutes ago but isn't now.

Everyone is having their own usual meltdowns, babbling on like always about themselves. Then, after zero discussion, other than that we have no powers, and deciding that we are pretty much shit out of luck with what to do about that, they all just start to wander off.

Again, taking another look at my suddenly reappeared severed arm, I shake my head in disbelief. It's nice to have that back, and not have blood all over my brand-new suit, and not be dying but...

Looking up at Lila’s excited expression and Diego’s equally eager look, then the bronze statue of dad’s head, I can’t help my frown.

They are all leaving. After everything.

We almost just got kugelblitzed. Reginald nearly just killed us. He sucked our powers from us like we are nothing more than batteries that he always planned to drain, then he just threw us away, and this is what we do about it? We abandon each other? Have we learned nothing?

Really?

Cursing, Ben disappears the same way Luther just left without so much as a goodbye.

Viktor clearly feels the same way I do about this, and despite him trying to stop them, he is losing his fight to keep us all together, but I shouldn’t really be upset or surprised by that or any of this.

Thinking and trying to understand what just happened and what this means, it dawns on me that we might have actually done it this time.

Well, maybe we didn’t, but Reginald or Allison did. Either way, they never would have reset the world on a course that was going to simply end again in a few days.

That means the apocalypse is over. We are safe. Lila is right. We can start to live our life as we want for once.

I spin around, my suit jacket swinging open from the momentum. It’s just me and Viktor left with our dad’s monument between us.

My eyes widen with realization. “Fee,” I whisper under my breath.

Twisting on my heel, I start picking up pace as I head toward the large stone arch leading out of the circular garden.

“Five! Where are you going?” Viktor shouts, interrupting my racing thoughts and my attempt at a hasty departure.

The heels of my dress shoes grind on the loose stone path as I turn back. “I am going to find Fee.”

“Who?”

“Phoebe Leroux.” Just saying her name out loud makes my heart feel so tight. It always aches when I think about her, but I’ll never stop.

"Who is Phoebe Leroux?"

My brows furrow as my mind goes back to her, remembering.

“Fee is a woman that I have been in love with for nearly forty-five years,” I quietly admit, “and she is someone that I wronged very, very badly.” I pause as I think about the extremely heavy truth of that.

Seeing Viktor looking at me like he has no clue what the hell I am talking about, I find myself laughing even though I shouldn't be. It's like a madness erupting in me that I can control. They know nothing about Fee. Not even The Commission let on that they knew she was with me in the apocalypse even though I am sure they knew. All of this is madness but it's finally over. We are finally free of all of it.

I stride back, meeting Viktor halfway in the shadowy garden. Running my hand back through my hair, I shake my head, trying to think of a way to explain all this.

“I met Fee only once, back when we were sixteen, and I epically fouled up that first brief encounter. Then, as fate would have it, because she had powers like we do, she survived when the ‘moon’ thing went down.”

I try to smile at Viktor when I air quote the moon thing, and that’s because I know full well that he still feels awful about that. My small overture gets him to return one of his very awkward looking grins.

Placing my hands back in my pockets, I continue explaining. “Phoebe was there alone in the apocalypse too, and she found me and saved me when I was about to die because I’m a never-ending arrogant asshole. That bright moment on my list of many happened five years into that hell. Her saving me is what ultimately got us all to this point, so I guess, in a way, she’s the one that saved everyone. She is the bravest, most caring person I have ever met, and I love her.”

“You mean you weren’t alone all those years?” Viktor looks utterly confused and even more floored by my explanation. “I mean, other than Dolores? I know you were with her and all that, and she is very real to you but…” he tries to clarify. “I am sorry, that’s not coming out right at all,” he apologizes, his pale cheeks flaming.

I smile at my brother’s embarrassment over my lifelong romantic relationship with a mannequin. I can’t exactly blame him for still being weirded out about that. “Don’t apologize, you have no reason to, and yes,” I say with another laugh. “I was with my loving Dolores for the entirety of my time in the apocalypse, but there was a short time when we weren’t alone. For eight months, seventeen days, ten hours, thirty-six minutes and give or take forty-nine seconds we were madly in love with a very special, very real woman.”

“Where’d she go?”

My somewhat manic smile evaporates as I think about what happened.

“We had a stupid fight about me being stupid. Fee went for a walk to give me space to calm down and get my shit together.” I have to stop to swallow the lump in my throat. “I messed up and I let her down. She didn’t deserve that from me, not after everything.” The lump comes back, but I speak through it, my voice cracking just a little. “There had been storms for weeks, and…” I look down at my shoes. “She drowned,” I simply say because I’m unable to say more.

“Oh no, Five! That’s-”

“That was a long time ago,” I quickly add, cutting him off, trying to let Viktor know he doesn’t need to say anything. I don’t want him to.

This is why I never told any of them. One, because everyone, including myself, were too wrapped up in their own things and jumping through time and fucking everything up, but it's also because I didn’t want them to know. If they did, it would just be one more thing I have to explain about my dark life that is too hard for me to talk about.

Something feels different now though. I want Viktor to know. Memories of Fee playing her guitar and me telling her about my siblings fill my mind with warm loving nights cuddling next to her by the fire, me talking with her for hours, back when I was happy.

The Handler was right. We all want happy.

A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth when I remember telling Fee of how my sister may not have had powers like us, but she was a very kind and passionate and proficient musician that I knew she’d get along with famously because they were actually very similar in many ways.

Avoiding that same person I had long ago told Fee about and their wide eyed, very concerned gaze they are giving me, I look around again, checking out what I can see of the city skyline peeking out over the tall, groomed hedges. Slowly I count in my head the days since when the apocalypse should have ended all this.

Fee would have caught a flight this morning out of Salt Lake City. Based on the time, she is supposed to be performing at a location not that far from here.

“I have to go,” I say as I start walking away.

“What are you going to do, Five?” Viktor asks.

“I need to deliver a long overdue apology.”

“But if the apocalypse didn’t happen and you guys never met again, how’s she-”

“It doesn’t matter if she remembers what we had,” I say, interrupting him. “I still owe her an apology.” Viktor just stares at me with his big brown eyes looking so lost, so I find myself saying, “I just need to see her again. It’s been so long and I…”

I can’t even begin to say how I feel, so I don’t.

Viktor stuffs his hands in his pockets the same way I have mine. “Well, if you want company, I would be happy to come with you for emotional support,” he offers.

“You mean like my wingman?” I correct him with a knowing smile.

Viktor isn’t like the rest of them, ready to leave everyone behind and never look back. He has never been that person. As his older brother, this time around my instinct to take care of him is stronger than my desire to figure out how to save the world and that's because it is figured out. No more apocalypse, that's all that matters. All this has me thinking that doing what my girl taught me, showing a little more heart, and by doing so, letting him be my ‘wingman’ isn’t a horrible idea.

Viktor nervously laughs. “Yeah, I guess I mean like that. This woman sounds pretty special, maybe you can hope for more than just a chance to say you’re sorry. If she forgave you for whatever happened between you two when you were sixteen, and she fell for you once before, then maybe she will again. You are only a few years younger than you were. You're technically legal, so maybe that wouldn’t be too…” He nervously laughs again, and I can’t help but join him.

I am physically eighteen instead of fifty-eight thanks to accidentally fucking up a decimal placement in my math so yeah… At least I'm legal as he so nicely just reminded me, then again, Fee is five years younger, so...

“Yeah, maybe…” I agree with a smirk, thinking about what Phoebe would have to say about all that and my nerdy, even more boyish appearance than what she had to deal with the first time. Looking back over at my brother, I nod. “Well Viktor, I think I’ll take you up on that offer, if you’re willing to be my emotional support sibling, I’ll take it. Clearly, I can use all the help I can get.”

Viktor nods back, probably unable to come up with words to express his shock over my rare show of maturity and willingness to admit so openly that I need someone.

As my brother and I silently start walking out of the garden the same why the rest of our family vanished, we begin to take note of all the strange new buildings that weren't there before, especially the fact that nearly half of them appear to be owned by none other than Sir Reginal Hargreeves, the alien ass lord who is responsible for stripping us of our powers and for us being here.

Moving down the sidewalk heading towards the busy downtown, I know I should be more concerned about all that, but my old broken heart in my new young body races as I let myself think about Fee and all the possibilities a woman like that can bring to a broken man’s life if she’s willing.

She saved me once before, so maybe, just maybe, she will open her beautiful heart to an old crazy wretch like me and do it all over again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Link from a special request scene extension from the point he found her.

Thanks to all who read this one. ❤️

Master Post List to all my Five Centric Stories and Art

Link to visit me on AO3

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#umbrella academy smut #number five smut #number five #the umbrella academy number five #umbrella academy five hargreeves #five hargreaves #five hargreeves imagine #tua fanfiction #number five female oc #kaybreezy-on-a03 #tua fandom #number 5 #number five hargreeves #hurt number five #number five fanart #Five hargreeves fan art #number five imagine #tua imagines #kaybreezy-on-aO3 #five hargreeves smut #smut with plot #smut with feelings #smut with story

[thecoffeelorian]

I may be older and greyer, but I'm certainly not dead yet, so...here's Chapter 4.

Tagging: @hadtomakethisone @orange-twilek-guy @jossambird @gun-roswell @pennycrumb-stan @maybethatfanfictionwriter @chaoticvampirejedi @eclec-tech @guppyfreedom @shiversdownyerspine @m0naca @drowzynoctu @lllostgirlll @ubhqueen @gggoldfinch and anybody else who MIGHT want to read about someone other than Klaus Hargreeves.

#random status update #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy fanfiction #tua fanfic #tua fandom #tua fanfiction #the ikea mafia #the swedes #tua axel #tua otto #axel tua #otto tua #tua: origin story #the handler #random swedish folklore #skogsrå #you are axel #axel!reader

[sunsetvulture]

I'M VERY NORMAL OKAY. so. i write fanfiction in my free time - this shameful hobby now gains more time put into it, in the form of this:

a fic cover. a very very rough not very good fic cover.

you can read dust cities here - it is a work in progress and frankly, possibly a fairly long one. I love it though. I hope you like it too.

(requests open!)

#the sparrow academy #the umbrella academy season 3 #the umbrella academy spoilers #tua #klaus tua #tua fanfiction #tua klaus #klaus hargreeves #klaus fanart #klaus #tua five #number five #five hargreeves #tua fanart #tua fandom #tua au #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #fanart #my art #fanfiction #fanfic art #cover