Tumgik
#tua reader insert
cas-backwards-tie · 10 months
Text
Chapter One: The Intrusion
Just Like Me
Masterlist | Next Chapter
Five Hargreeves x Sparrow!Samantha
Summary: Arriving home from school, you find there are a group of intruders in the compound. Friend, or foe, it isn't clear. Though you don't use your abilities anymore and aren't much of a fighter, you're curious to learn more when the intruders mention growing up in the same house and sharing a father. The only question is: will they explain?
Warnings: Cursing, Violence, Anxiety, Insecurity, Angst, Complicated Family Relationships, Degradation
Words: 4.9k
A/N: So while I meant to write the same story going off my interpretation of the comics two years back, I decided I'd just try and fit my OC (though it's written in reader style, her attributes scarcely mentioned) into the show considering that I've recently finished the third season! Details about the OC's backstory will be revealed throughout the series.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Your hands release the grip on your backpack’s shoulder straps and come up to cup your ears. It’s the alarm blaring throughout the house’s speakers. “What the hell?!” You grumble to yourself. “Really?” Through the foyer, you can spot five strangers all dressed in black, bewildered looks on their faces. Each person’s clothes are different–no uniform look to them–and they all differ in shape, size, and style from what you can see. If they’re robbers, they’re downright stupid showing their faces, and even attempting to rob the Sparrow Academy. The sound of your Father’s voice lets you know that whatever is going on, there’s a disagreement in progress. Ready to confront the situation and get answers, you walk through the doorway and stop once the five intruders become six upon better view.
“Wrong again. This isn’t your home, this is-” Father speaks, his know-it-all tone eliciting a wry look on your behalf. Not wanting to deal with his holier-than-thou attitude, you attempt to emotionally brace yourself. Leaning against the doorway, you watch the scene before you in silence, trying to gather information. If anything, stealth has always been your strong suit. Always surprising people with your light heel-to-toe steps, it’s unintentional the way you’ve gotten everyone in the house scared at least once or twice simply going about your business.
“What are you talking about? This is the Umbrella Academy,” the dark-haired female questions. With her back turned away, you don’t get a good look at her, yet your eyes flit to the person closest to you. A small, thin, seemingly frail person with shoulder-length brown hair. Arms crossing over your chest, you next spot the knives within the shaggy-haired man’s vest. Your heart beats a little faster. They could be dangerous, you think. Beside him stands a lanky man in a trench coat and a cowboy hat–an odd look to say the least–and finally, across the room stands a boy who looks around your age in appearance. It’s funny, though you’re dressed alike, it appears as though his uniform is too small, while yours finally fits perfectly. His outfit looks like a knock-off version of the Sparrow Academy uniform, only if the colors were reversed. Clad in a maroon blazer with the Academy’s insignia on the breast, you don a matching tartan skirt, maroon and navy, along with white knee-high socks, and mary-jane shoes. After years of thinking your uniforms would never fit properly, you’ve finally grown into them over the past year or so as your teenage body continues to grow.
 “-This is the Sparrow Academy.” He finishes his explanation. Father’s hazel eyes take in your appearance, though you have no idea what he’s thinking or planning. Your eyes flit between him, the intruders, and up to the second floor. It doesn’t slip your notice that the shaggy-haired man withdraws a knife from his vest.
“Dad, who the hell are these assholes?” Ben’s disgruntled tone breaks the silence as all eyes shift over to him. Just as you’re about to verbally add on, yet you’re beaten to the punch. 
“Shit…” the intruders all murmur simultaneously in an unsettling and eerie manner. Silence overtakes the room for a moment as they all simply stare at your brother in wonder. Maybe they’re just crazed fans, you realize. It wouldn’t be the first time someone has attempted to break in with ideas of catching a view of the infamous Sparrow Academy and getting an autograph, photo, or some shit.
“Ben,” the soft tone that leaves the cowboy hat-wearing man feels wrong. The look in all their eyes is seemingly that of one who stares fondly at their favorite work of art, or muse. While you truly know Ben, it’s always the fans who make him out to be some admirable and righteous guy as if he’s not a giant asshole now.
“Is that really you?” The big one asks, stepping closer to him. Whatever wrong feeling lies in your gut only amplifies with those words. There’s no mistaking that of the tone someone only uses when they know someone personally. And you’ve never seen these people in your life. They could be from before, you mentally remind yourself, a sullen feeling swirling in your gut at the thought of your lost time. Yet, the look on Ben’s face is one of perplexion, confusion, and worry. That’s all you need to know that these are still, in fact, strangers.
“And who are the weirdos on the balcony?!” The accusatory comment flies immediately after the big one’s question, all eyes drawn up to said location. Using this opportunity of distraction as a means to move, you slink past the small and thin person diagonal to you and stand next to Ben. He doesn’t seem keen on your appearance, not a word uttered in greeting. Shifting the backpack to sit more evenly on your shoulders, you wait for someone to say something- for Dad to explain, or at least tell them to get out of his house.
“They are the Sparrows. My children.” A faint rumbling shakes the house, and whether or not it’s either fans outside, more intruders upstairs, or someone’s upset feelings leaking out through their powers, you brace yourself. Whoever these people are, the stunned expressions on their faces don’t sit well with you. So… they’re not fans, you question, suddenly at a loss again.
“I’m sorry, what do you mean your children? That’s not possible, old man.” The teenage boy stupidly asks as he starts closing the distance between your Father and himself.
“Well, clearly it is since we’re standing right here,” you point out as if it’s obvious. Which it is. Though your mothers were from different parts of the world, and your births having happened in minutes, spontaneously, it was certainly an event. Nevertheless, Reginald Hargreeves is your Father.
“Of course it is! I think I’d know, wouldn’t I?” The preposterousness of his tone only mirrors the amusement and ludicrous nature you hold in your own demeanor as it seems these people might be… well, delusional. Clearly, since they’d thought to break into the world’s biggest crime-fighting legion.
“How was school?” Marcus asks you quietly as he approaches to stand on your other side. He still listens intently to the conversation, even if he actually acknowledges your presence and the fact that you’ve only just gotten home. Before you can respond about how it’d been boring considering you’re only starting to learn about basic chemistry and things that, honestly, you’d already started to learn at the Academy before things went… haywire, someone speaks up.
“Everyone else can see Ben, right?” Cowboy Dude (as you’re now referring to him in your mind) proposes, gesticulating as he starts to approach all of you. Brows furrowing in confusion at this statement, you shake it off and turn your attention back to your older brother to your left.
“Well, certainly not as exciting as whatever the hell is going on here,” you joke, eliciting a chuckle from both Ben and Marcus. Surprising that the prior was even listening.
“Cute hat, Sundance,” Ben remarks, never failing to miss a chance to whip out a comeback. The disturbed looks from the intruders only elicit an amused smile from you. It’s then that you make eye contact with the little one of their group, his eyebrows furrowed similarly to the one you held earlier when trying to decipher who they were. His head tilts slightly as his green eyes search yours. Suddenly your Father’s voice attracts everyone’s attention once more.
“They call themselves the Umbrella Academy, a group of scheming, perfidious malcontents who accosted me in the fall of nineteen sixty-three when I was away on business in Dallas. Be warned, they claim to be my spawn.”
“What?” Trying to process and take in this information, it makes no sense that they’d been alive in nineteen sixty-three, and yet one of them looks your age. They’d all at least be well into their sixties by now. The following words from the dark-haired, cape-wearing woman drone in one ear and out the other as you try to wrap your head around everything your Father had so casually said.
“I don’t know yet, but it’s concerning,” the little one garners your attention again, your eyebrows now mirroring his as you try to piece this puzzle together. Siblings? There’s no way… is there? Wouldn’t you know? Wouldn’t this have come up, before? Why does Father look on edge if this is the case? Why would they accost him, then? There are too many questions and too little information to come to any certain conclusion.
“Is he telling the truth?” Marcus asks. Even if this is all new information, he’s always the best at keeping things going and taking assertive action. It’s why he’s Number One.
“Does that mean they’re our…” you cut yourself off, not daring to voice the thoughts going through your head. “That’s impossible.”
“You’d think,” the little one comments.
“Says the kid who would be in his sixties if it were true,” you respond lamely, not really intending to speak it to anyone in particular.
“Yeah, well the truth is mercurially dynamic at best, little girl,” the kid bites back. He moves his jaw in an unsettling way, your own jaw clenching at the degrading nickname. Despite your outward appearance, you are not a little girl, by far.
“Not the part about us being perfidious,” the thin person, who you can now see is a woman, defends. Her voice is fairly quiet, yet with all the thick tension in the air, there’s more than enough silence to be filled.
Cowboy Dude backs her up. “No, we’re amateur-fidious, at best.”
“-but we are his children. This is our house.” She claims. Samantha takes the moment to gauge her sibling's reactions, everyone looking about, if not more, stumped than she is.
“Yeah, yeah. We, uh… grew up here.” It’s the Big One, now. Alphonso takes the opportunity to mock him, which only irks you and elicits an eye roll because something doesn’t feel right about this. Though it’s unlikely and something only someone desperate would come up with… for some reason you believe there’s a possibility they’re telling the truth.
“How’s that possible?” Your voice is quiet, mind turning its gears as you can’t work out what’s missing in this equation. A few theories have formed in the last minute or so, but there’s no definitive answer here. There are still crucial parts missing in their explanation.
“I kind of think we would have noticed you,” Sloane remarks, pointing out something that all of you had to have been thinking, her soft voice helping to ease the tension if for only a moment.
“Hi, I’m Luther.” The Big One extends his hand out to Sloane, yet she doesn’t move. Smart, on her part, though the sudden shift in attitude and the kind smile on his face only make the whole situation that much more eerie and confusing.
“Hi Luther,” you respond with a small wave and a remiss attitude. It really doesn’t seem like the time, nor place, yet you play along. 
“Okay. None of you belong here.” The dark-haired glove-wearing girl asserts, clearly having had enough.
“Woah! What?” Taken aback by the sudden aggressiveness in her tone, you take a step back. Defensiveness ebbs into your being. Alphonso audibly gawks at her words, Jayme making a noise of discontent and incredulousness, Ben almost growling under his breath.
“Oh! Well, then. I guess we’ll just pack our bags and move out,” Fei remarks sarcastically, eliciting a smile thrown over your shoulder to her. She’s always been much faster with comebacks than you, though not as good as Ben. It’s a quality you’d never been able to pick up, really, and the whole… IceCube Incident didn’t exactly help.
Christopher plays along with Fei, though proposes that the supposed ‘Umbrella Academy’ will have to beat us if they want our spots in the house.
“You slay me, Chris,” Ben chuckles. Christopher’s remark elicits a few laughs from your siblings and a tight-lipped look from you. It’s hard not to smile, knowing they have no chance of beating you all, yet you don’t want to appear cocky. After all, you don’t want anyone to fight. Fighting is never the answer.
The telltale sign of heels clacking against the black and white tile of the foyer announces her presence. “I wasn’t expecting company,” Grace sighs. “This is the best I could do on short-” she starts to malfunction, one eye rolling slightly as she struggles to get her words out, voice box revealing a deeper tone than that of the tone she’s been programmed for, “-short notice.”
“It’s fine, Grace. Thank you,” you respond, a small and tense placating smile on your lips.
“Mom,” the shaggy-haired man practically whispers, breaking the silence.  Mom? Out of all the things he could’ve said… he said that. His tone was soft… again, a familiarity echoing the similar manner that, Luther–you now know his name–addressed Ben earlier. 
“Mom? She’s a robot, you perv.” Despite the seriousness of her accusation, Alphonso chuckles, of course. Their humor is… something, alright. The two of them, together… yeesh. They never fail to surprise you with what will come out of one of their mouths. 
“Jayme,” your tone comes out as a warning.
“What?” She defends, “It’s creepy as hell.” 
“It’s not a robot!” The man defends.
“Hey, don’t you call him that!” Luther steps in.
“Or what?” Ben instigates, stepping closer to Luther.
“Why don’t you come closer and find out?” He quips immediately.
“Wow, okay,” your exasperation is evident in your voice. With a shrug of forfeit, you turn your questioning gaze toward Marcus, who meets your eye contact with an expression of anger, patience being tested.
“Luther! Guys, chill!” The small woman begs, coming closer as if to intervene if something were to go down. Though considering the size of Luther and Marcus, you doubt she’d be able to do anything besides get crushed between them.
“Think I’m afraid?” Ben posits, puffing out his chest as if to scare away the giant of a man Luther is. Though an honorable notion for protecting your home, it’s… all too cocky of him. But really, it’s Ben; what do you expect from him?
“Stand down, Ben,” Marcus’ warning tone brings you a sense of relief, not wanting to have to fight this… Umbrella Academy.
“Look at that! She’s got a voice!” Ben taunts the small woman, amused by her attempt to dissuade them. So much for that, you think.
“How about I hide that big Rubik’s Cube up your ass?” Shaggy-hair threatens, eliciting a fire you hadn’t realized had been slowly boiling in the pit of your stomach.
“Christopher isn’t a Rubik’s Cube, you ass!” Marcus extends his arm in front of you before you can properly lunge in the man’s direction. Always the big brother. In a split second the room erupts into many separate conversations, comments, threats, and warnings. It catches your eye–the familiar glint of Jayme’s spit–the black liquid hitting Shaggy Man’s cheek. Eyes widening, you whip your head around to her. “Jayme! You just started things!” You whisper yell at her. 
Your older-looking sister squints her eyes at you before rolling them dramatically, a sigh falling from her lips. “Well someone had to. Besides, he started it when he called Grace ‘Mom’ like some kinked-up weirdo,” she asserts, “and now? I’ll finish them.” Arms crossed over her chest, she sits on her hip in triumph, eagerly watching the Shaggy Man go through whatever delusion his mind conjured through her spit. Hazel eyes returning to him, you watch with concern, eyes shifting as you spot the teenage boy eyeing you behind him. As soon as your eyes meet, he looks up at Marcus. Taking him in, you don’t think it’ll be hard to take out this supposed Umbrella Academy if it really comes to it, though you’d rather not. Cute as the boy is, even if rudely witty, he doesn’t have to get hurt.
“I don’t know what circus you escaped from or how you got past our security, but we’re done here. You got 30 seconds to get out of our house.” Marcus has his famous eerily calm mask on in spite of the obvious tension simmering in the room. 
“And if we don’t?” Cape-Girl bites back, crossing her arms over her chest with a smug look upon her face.
“Marcus,” your biting tone has a tacit plead in it, one he’s very familiar with. Though you haven’t been on a mission since the IceCube Incident, you still try to prevent fights from breaking out within the walls of the house, begrudgingly to your sibling’s amusement, it always seemed. Luckily, for the most part, Marcus would take your side and help rein in the chaos Jayme, Alphonso, Ben, and Chris always seem to want to participate in.
“Then we’ll have to settle this the old-fashioned way.”
“Ugh,” you groan. Of course it would come to this. As you hear Ben crack his neck and watch Marcus get into a defensive stance, you crack your knuckles. Everyone’s stances mirror similar defensive poses with little idiosyncrasies within each person.
“Sam, go!” Marcus instructs, pointing toward the doorway. He knows how you feel about fighting, yes, but more than anything he knows you won’t use your powers after the Incident. Regardless of whether they’ll need them or not, without using your powers, you’re a liability. Someone he doesn’t need to be distracting him from fully being invested in the fight.
“No! I’m not going.” Getting into a defensive position next to him, you ready yourself, not bothering with your backpack since this will be quick. “If we’re gonna do this, might as well get this over with.”
“Go,” he quietly pleads in the same tone you’d used earlier. Just to spite him, the way he’d ignored your request earlier, you decide that fighting these punks of intruders and letting off some of the rising anger they’ve caused you is the healthiest manner of coping. You’re not going anywhere, because defying your big brother is about the most satisfying thing you could do.
 “Agreed,” Luther responds. Readying themselves for a fight, they clearly don’t care about your little side conversation as everyone watches to two biggest members of your family square up.
“Get him, Luther!” Cowboy Dude seems more enthralled to watch, yet his optimistic and supportive attitude seems amusing in juxtaposition to the situation at hand. Does he really want to watch his brother get beaten to a pulp?
“Look we just fought a literal army. Okay? This doesn’t need to get ugly. Let’s all just calm down, and let’s talk.”
“A literal army? What the hell…” Eyeing the woman with confusion, you’re starting to worry Dad was right. Maybe these people are liars and far more crazy than he’d made them out to be.
“Psst-” the sound captures your attention, hazel eyes shifting over to Cowboy Dude. “-Ben-er-rino! You look so much better alive than you do dead. Am I right? Except that haircut.” Lips forming a small ‘o’, a silent ‘ooh’ leaves your lips. You know that’s it. Ben won’t take that.
“What the hell did you just say?” Ben retorts, obviously offended. Yep, you called it.
“Wait, dead? What are you…” It’s then that you register his words, murmuring more to yourself than anyone, it’s just another piece to the growing puzzle.
“Come on, come one, stop will all the hostility, Mr. Grumpy Pants. Oh wow, nice scar. Muy macho.” Cowboy Dude persists, approaching your brother with a passive disposition.
“I wouldn’t if I were-” the comment leaves your lips before you can stop it.
“Shut your mouth!” Ben yells, readying himself for a fight.
“You shut your mouth and just hug your brother-” Ben punches him square in the jaw. The hat goes flying as the man stumbles backward, rolls over, and off the coffee table, which really, seems a bit dramatic to you. Ben can’t punch that hard. Maybe Marcus, but Ben? No way.
“What the hell? You didn’t have to do that!” Luther raises his voice, closing the distance between him and Ben.
“Oh, I’m pretty sure I did!” Ben bites back.
“That’s right, he did,” Alphonso comments.
 “Yeah,” you agree. The man did come off as a bit aggressive and forward.
“Hey, get back!” Marcus warns, swooping between Ben and Luther easily, keeping them apart physically.
“Luther, hey!” The small woman yells. Marcus shoves Luther away when he won’t stop closing the distance.
“Back off!” Marcus shouts. 
“Marcus!” You shout. Luther winds his arm back and throws a punch. Marcus dodges and easily kicks Luther square in the chest. The big man goes flying back through the air.
“Oh shit!” Someone says before the big man lands on top of the Cowboy Dude, knocking over the couch, cupboard, and all the decorations atop it.
“Bad touch, Luther! Bad touch!” The pinned man yells, yet your attention follows your Father leaving the room. All of a sudden, Marcus is hopping over the coffee table towards Luther, the teenage boy is running your way, Sloane, Alphonso, Jayme, and Fei all go their separate ways, leaving you open and vulnerable. Panicking, you step aside, Ben still holding the space he’d been in, readying himself for the incoming kid with a devilish look in his eyes.
“Come at me, litter box!” Shaggy Man yells at Christopher, who you spot floating a few feet above you, heading in his direction. With a relieved breath, you gather yourself, eyes flitting from person to person as you try to figure out where to insert yourself. In the midst of your panic and internal struggle, you see the kid punch Ben backward out of the corner of your eye. Ben immediately comes back to punch him, but the kid dodges only to kick Ben away.
“Don’t hurt my brother, Short-Shorts!” You yell, the attempt at name-calling simply coming off the top of your head as you charge at the kid, going to punch him, yet he elbows you in the stomach before kicking you down, all without sparing a glance in your direction. To be fair... announcing your incoming probably wasn’t the smartest idea you’ve had. Ben knees the kid, all while laughing, as he dodges the incoming punch.
“That’s the best you got, really?” The amusement quickly shifts. “Don’t need your help, pipsqueak!” He yells, still fist-fighting the kid, eyes on him, yet you know the words are directed at you. Ben finally manages to get a punch in before swiveling around the kid’s punch and landing another right in his stomach. With a grab of his arm and another quick shift of position, he’s got him in a headlock. On your feet, you stand in front of them with an unamused look on your face. 
“At least I’m trying,” you huff, “more than I can say for you!” The kid suddenly disappears with a fwip sound, and both you and your brother’s eyes widen in surprise. Ben looks around, as do you, yet the next fwip sounds to your left, signaling his appearance.
“You’re alive-” The kid stumbles backward, regaining his balance, “-that’s great… or possibly horrible, I’m not really sure yet.” Fixing his hair, you take in what he’s said, more than plan what to do next.
“Is that some kind of weird smack talk?” Ben questions. It’s the second time someone’s mentioned him dead, is it really possible that-
“-It’s more of an existential problem, really, Ben,” he’d cut off your thoughts, attention shifting back to the moment before you. With a wide step and a cocked fist, you punch him across the face, sending him stumbling back again.
“Awesome! Here’s your next problem,” announcing his next move, you know what’s coming. A tentacle lunges from his chest toward the kid, only for him to disappear with another fwip. Left reeling for his position, it’s only as your attention draws back to Ben that a look of astonishment takes over your face. Pointing up to the balcony, you tacitly give him a heads-up by pointing the boy out.
“You know, even though you’re a total asshat now-” Ben sends his tentacles surging toward him again, giving you the perfect opportunity to escape. Running toward the foyer to head upstairs and get the kid, you pass Fei fighting the Cape-wearing woman, who you happen to trip on the way up the stairs. Mary janes shoes clomping up the many steps as fast as you can, you quickly find that the kid has vanished, again. Leaning over the railing he’s down below; a groan escapes your lips. As you turn to head back down, a burst of energy hits you, smacking you against the railing, and taking your legs out from under you. On the floor, you start to get up, only for a knife to plunge into the wood a few centimeters away. Breath caught in your throat, you stare in shock and disbelief, fear, and adrenaline surging through your veins.
“Chris!” You yell, running toward the knife as you spot Christopher floating in the opposite direction, Shaggy Man following suit on the other side of the walkway. Attempting to dislodge the knife from the wood is hard, it’s smooth, and the wood now is splintering. With a few grunts of effort, you extract it, readying yourself as Christopher leads him past you and goes over the railing. Not expecting the man to follow, you throw the knife, sending it flying right where the railing stops. Shaggy Man does a flip over the railing, leaving you wide-eyed, mouth agape. The knife misses him by an inch or so, going into the wall on the other side of the living room balcony.
“See? We’re hugging! This is progress!” Cowboy Dude yells, despite being squished in a constricting hold of Ben’s tentacle. Though amusing, you know you need to help. Turning to head back down to the first floor, you spot the kid having teleported onto the walkway with the cape-wearing woman above the foyer. While they’re on the opposite side of the adjoining room, you watch as Jayme strides toward them. 
“Hey, Short Pants! What’s up?” Her taunting voice asks him. As you start to head in their direction, you hear the boy tell his accomplice to leave them so she can help the others. “What are you, their mascot?” Jayme quips.
On the other side of the balcony, you stop dead in your tracks as he teleports again, the now familiar fwip telling you so. “More like their ringer,” he answers her question.
Punch sending her to the ground, you can’t help but let out an audible “Ooh,” as it looks like it’d hurt. Just as his eyes draw up to you with surprise and a deadly look within them, Jayme’s spit lands on his forehead, hand following suit.
“Hey, gross, all right?” The slowing of his movements tells you he’s in whatever delusion his mind conjured from her venom. Taking the opportunity to finish closing the distance between you and your sister, you both watch the boy act out whatever’s going on in his mind.  
“Really? You’re no help,” she grumbles at you, disappointment and annoyance evident as she dusts off her pants and stands.  
“Delores?” The boy questions, your eyes following his line of vision, even if you knew nothing was there. You can never be too sure, you figure. Today has already been weird as hell. As the boy starts walking toward the other staircase, you give Jayme an unpleased look. “Mi sei mancato anche angelo mio, più di quanto tu possa immaginare. Vieni da me.”
“Italian?” You question, eyes locking with hers, a surprised look on both of your faces. 
“Yup.” As it starts to look like he’s making out with someone, your sister lets out an “Ugh,” which elicits a laugh from you as your eyes land on her rather than the disturbing image before the both of you. “Are they all perverts?” You shrug. Jayme walks up to him and doubles him over with a roundhouse kick. He tumbles down the stairs, his sounds of pain elicit a grimace, nevertheless, you join your sister at the staircase’s landing. With a flip of your hair, you turn and run towards the other staircase, heading back down to the living room. Spotting Luther slipping through the bookcase passageway and the kid gone from his spot on the tiles, you try to find the others. Just as you’re headed back through the foyer, another fwip resounds across the table. With a yelp, the kid appears.
“Shit, it’s gone!” he looks around, eyes landing on you for a moment before finally resting on the scene in the living room.
“What’s gone?” You ask, yet his attention makes yours shift as well. The thin woman lies on the floor moaning in pain.
“Vanya, get out of there!” He yells, approaching the living room. Without thinking, you follow suit, intent on keeping him back as no one else needs to get hurt. It’s sad, really, but you can’t save everyone. Her hands are clenched in fists and you watch as your siblings form a circle around her, slowly closing in. With a stumble backward the kid suddenly disappears again. In the split-second all you’d seen was panic and fear, leaving you afraid of whatever he’d been afraid of. By the time you look back at the living room, a burst of energy suddenly sends you flying through the air backward, your whole body smacking against the wall, knees buckling as you slowly crumble to the floor.
~~~~~~~~
taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo
41 notes · View notes
dicejpg · 8 months
Text
You should have left a note - {Five Hargreeves x GN!Reader}
Synopsis: Five is ordered to kill his ex-commission partner. He doesn't want to.
Tumblr media
Note: I made this really late at night. I would really appreciate requests for Five :)
(Not edited)
WORD COUNT: 1K
2nd POV:
Five peers down at the paper that bears your name, hands shaky. He was ordered by the Handler--just this morning--to terminate you for immediate extraction.
It’s been a year since you left Five since you left the Commission. He'd been rightfully frustrated since your abrupt departure. He didn't get a note, nor a goodbye. Sure, you two weren’t all that close as partners, but he at least deserved a warning, he thought.
He doesn't know how to feel about the idea of blowing your brains out with his M1935.
You’ve been gone for approximately a year, leaving no trace or hints as to where you may be. But, the Commission finally tracked you down to a small town in New Jersey, 1978.
When he arrives in front of your supposed living quarters, he is taken aback by the rundown apartment complex in front of him. A real shithole. Its bricks are chipped and sun-bleached, presumably from old age. Police sirens and gunshots are audible from a neighborhood away, giving away the unsafeness of the area.
It’s twelve o’ clock at night. Five quietly blinks up to your numbered room. If he remembers correctly from the paper, it's room 395. Third floor, second door to the left.
Your apartment is dark, gloomy. Five does not turn on the lights, not wanting to give away his existence. But, he assumes you’re not home anyways. Your job as a bartender at a rundown restaurant downtown would have you occupied for at least another hour.
He wonders through the confined living space, taking note of a few books scattered on the coffee table, and an unmade bed. There's a small pile of dishes in the sink, a pot and two bowls. There are no picture frames, or wall decor. The room is barren with no personality at all.
Five would not even know that you lived here from the looks of the place.
It smells like you though, he unwillingly notices. He finds it oddly comforting nostalgic.
He’s in the middle of examining some scattered papers on the ground when he hears the jingling of keys outside the door. Along with your whistling.
Five blinks behind a window curtain in no time at all, blood pumping fast. You must have gotten off early.
Your humming becomes more prominent as you enter your living space. The sound of keys being thrown on the kitchen counter makes Five jolt, but he still goes unnoticed.
You make no move to turn on the lights, so Five risks a glance at you.
Your head is blocked by the freezer door, but he notices your disheveled work attire. Some black slacks and an untucked white button down shirt. Your apron hangs on a hook by the door.
When the freezer door is closed, he notices your face. It's the same as when he last saw you, but with sadder eyes and dark eye-bags. His heart sinks, he starts feeling uncharacteristically torn.
He watches you crack open a frozen dinner meal and place it in the microwave. You roll your sleeves up to your elbows while you wait for the food to heat up. Five always thought you had nice, toned forearms. He stares at them, at you.
His eyes are intense, observing as you lean against the counter, stretching and running your fingers through your hair. He feels his stomach knot.
Five was definitely the wrong person for this job. He readys his gun quietly.
You freeze at the almost imperceptible sound of a gun clicking, slowly turning your head in Five's direction. He doesn't see the way your eyebrows furrow because he's fully behind the curtain again.
The microwave beeps quietly, but you make no move to retrieve your dinner.
The sound of footsteps approaching Five's hiding spot makes sweat bead on his forehead. He debates letting himself be caught, but decides against it. Five blinks behind you, aiming his gun.
But you've already kicked the thing out of his hands, fully expecting his maneuver. You tackle him to the ground, gripping his wrists and pinning his legs with yours. Not before kicking the gun far away, under the couch.
"God, of course they sent you, Five." You breathe, glaring down at him in dismay. "The Handler's such a sadistic- I mean, sending my own partner to kill me? Is she kidding?" You ramble is distress, cursing your ex-employer.
Five gazes up at you, swallowing thickly. He fights thoughtlessly against your grasp, but tries nothing else to get loose. He does not want to kill you.
"Let go of me." He warns, feeling fuzzy and not knowing what else to say. His eyes never leave yours.
"Why don't you just blink away? You're fully capable of getting out of this." You accuse, getting close to his face. Your breath tickles his nose. It's minty.
Five hesitates, his eyes fluttering for a moment as he fails to regain his train of thought.
He remains quiet.
"You don't really want to kill me." Your grip on his wrists falters slightly when he doesn't object.
He softly pulls his wrists free, and you let him sit up. But you keep his legs pinned just in case. There is a strangely comfortable silence as you wait for Five to find the words.
"You should have just told me you were going to leave." Five whispers finally. His tone is unreadable. "Or at least left a note."
You look at him with a pained expression. "You're right. I should have." It's something you regretted for months after abandoning him. There is an intake of breath right before you add: "I missed uh- I miss you." You redden, not looking at him.
He exhales with a hidden smile. "Me too."
815 notes · View notes
kaybreezy3000 · 16 days
Text
Tumblr media
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 lovely smutty 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: None except 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 it that starts, so you know when to stop of 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 casually questioned 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 lowly and 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 blew his hair out of his face, Five said, “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, 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 the still frozen Luther 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. ❤️
To see all my art and story posts on Tumblr hit this link
Link to my master list page
To visit me direct on AO3
61 notes · View notes
badkitty3000 · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
Addicted
Sometimes our bodies get a taste of something so good that it's nearly impossible to quit. No matter how bad it is for us. And right now that something is Five Hargreeves.
Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut
This is a short one shot I decided to write on a whim. I am new to posting on Tumblr, but you can check out my full works here on AO3. This one is also a bit different than my other works, as it's more abstract.
I am open to requests, so if you have any Five-centric one shots you'd like me to write, please feel free to ask under the Ask Me Anything button on my profile. I've also never asked for requests before, but I will do my best to fulfill them!
Addicted:
You can’t stop looking at the clock. An hour must have gone by, but when you check it again, it’s only been a few minutes. The night is going by at a crawling pace and as the seconds tick by, the more your anxiety is growing.
Don’t do it
You’re better than this
You’ve been doing so well
You don’t need him
Don’t do it
It doesn’t matter, though. You can tell yourself a thousand times to stop thinking about him, but it’s not going to stop. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve cursed yourself for caving in and calling him. It’s an endless loop of want and regret.
You know how it’s going to go, that’s the pathetic part. You know you’re going to feel like shit the next day, and the day after that, and for another week after that. That’s how it always goes. And yet, you keep giving in. You keep punishing yourself.
Because, god damn it, he makes you feel good.
He’s your addiction. Your drug. And you’re constantly chasing that high.
Just thinking about it, about him, makes your skin hot and you can’t sit still. You’re jittery and pacing, and it’s all-consuming. The more you try to push it from your mind, the harder it comes crashing back. Second by second, minute by minute; he’s creeping into your brain, moving in, and taking up residence.
You’re sitting at home with nothing for company except some bourbon. Bourbon that reminds you of him. And you know you’re going to do it. It’s after one in the morning but you know he’s awake. Just one phone call and he’ll be there. No matter what you said to him the last time, he’ll pretend nothing is wrong and he’ll come anyway.
You know how it’s going to go, too. It’s the same every time. You’ll talk a little, have a drink or two, and wait until the tension eases. Then you’ll start to notice all of the little things that drive you crazy. The casual way he leans back, crossing one leg over the other. The way he looks at you, with that stupid self-satisfied smirk, and that fucking dimple in his cheek. And his hands. His hands doing anything, really. God, you love his hands.
Then you’ll look at him in some way; you’re not sure how, but he’ll know. He’ll lean in towards you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body and smell the faded scent of after shave that was put on much earlier in the day. He’ll lean in with that intense gaze of his, scanning your body and then your face; green eyes flashing and dark brows furrowing. He’ll reach out and touch you in some way. Maybe your hand, or your cheek; it doesn’t matter. One touch and you’re fucking toast.
The next few hours will go by in a blur. Skin slicked with sweat, lungs gasping for air, bodies tangled together. It will be everything you need and want, and fuck, it will feel so good. Until it doesn’t.
But right now, as you check the clock for what has to be the twentieth time in the last five minutes, you’ve convinced yourself that you don’t care. And you pick up your phone.
You could text, but he hates texting and it’s just easier to call. You want to hear his voice, anyway. Like some weird little mental appetizer before the main course. You take a sip from your glass, the condensation dripping onto your phone screen.
“You know it’s the middle of the night,” he says as a way of a greeting, and you can hear the smug smile forming on his face.
“Is it? Oh, sorry, I hadn’t noticed,” you reply, trying to match his usual snark.
There’s a slight pause. “I thought you said you were done with me.”
You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or if he’s genuinely confused. “Yeah, I did say that.”
“You said I was an insensitive asshole,” he reminds you.
“And I stand by that statement.”
There’s another pause and you can hear the phone shifting a bit. “So, were you just calling to remind me of that, or was there something else I can do for you?”
Of course, he’s teasing you now. He knows damn well why you’re calling. But he’s going to make you say it.
You clear your throat a bit. “Yeah well…I can’t sleep and I don’t know anyone else that stays up this late so…”
“So, you thought maybe I could help you sleep?”
Fuck, you really hate him right now! But, sure, why not? This little charade of yours isn’t going to last much longer anyway.
“Yes, actually, that’s exactly what I thought.”
There’s a second of silence and you know he’s thinking about whether or not to continue to draw this out and really make you sweat, or to put you out of your misery.
“I did just get back from a job. I haven’t showered yet.”
Dammit, you’re already feeling the dampness between your legs at that little visual. Which is exactly why he said it.  
“I don’t mind. You can shower here.”
There’s a low, quiet laugh on the other end and you roll your eyes at your desperateness.
“Alright. Be there soon.”
After you hang up, the only thing you can do is wait. And torture yourself even more by running through some very graphic scenarios in your mind. You pour another drink for yourself, and one for him, too. Then you wait some more.
You know it won’t take him long to get there. You also know he won’t bother to knock or use the door. He’ll just appear, like some magical fuck genie, ready to grant you three earth shattering orgasms in the position of your choice.
You’re sitting there on your couch, with the only light coming from a small lamp on one of the side tables, when he warps in; a nanosecond of blue before it’s gone and it’s just him standing there. You sit up straighter when you see him, glass in hand. He gives you that knowing smirk and you give him one right back.
In the dim light, you can make out the lines of his body; the sharp angles of his face. You can see he really did just get back from a job, because he hasn’t bothered to change out of his suit. The jacket is unbuttoned and his tie is loosened. But otherwise, he’s the perfect picture of a suave executive or maybe a cologne model. Or an assassin.
When you stand up, you bring him the glass of bourbon you had poured, and he takes it from you, his fingers brushing against yours in the transfer. After he takes a sip, he looks at you with that same infuriating expression that makes you want to punch him right in his gorgeous face.
“Did you miss me?” he asks with a grin.
You smile and shake your head. “Not in the slightest. Did you miss me?”
“Nope. Not one bit.”
You’ve already decided you’re not going to draw this out. Why prolong the misery? The more time you take in trying to pretend this is something else, the more time it’s going to take for you to move on the next day. So, you’re going to cut straight to the chase this time. You take another step forward until you’re close enough to see the dark green of his eyes and the soft shadow of stubble on his face. Leaning in, you brush your body against his, tipping your face up, while at the same time hooking a finger into one of his belt loops, giving it a sharp tug. He makes a quiet grunting noise, his eyes meeting yours.
One corner of your mouth turns up. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just extremely happy to see me again?”
He raises one eyebrow, not moving. “Why don’t you find out.”
Without taking your eyes off of his, you move a hand to the front of his black fitted slacks and run a finger into the inside of the waistband. When you feel it, your smile grows bigger. As you pull out the pistol, you hold it in the palm of your hand, liking the weight of it and the sleek, simple design.
“I guess I was hoping for something else, but this is pretty fucking sexy, too.”
He only smiles and takes the gun from you, setting it on the coffee table, along with his drink.
“What? Don’t trust me?” you ask slyly.
When he grabs you around the waist and pulls you closer, the movement is swift and forceful.
“Absolutely not,” he answers before leaning down slowly, a few strands of hair falling forward and over his eye in the process.
His kisses start out soft, testing the waters, then gradually intensify. First a gentle brush against your mouth, then a playful bite on your lower lip. Soon he is slipping his tongue inside, breathing hard through his nose, and moving a hand to the back of your head.
If there had been even a tiny speck of resolve left in you before, it’s gone now. As soon as his lips are against yours, you give in. You will let him do anything to you without protest, you’re certain of that. And not just physically. You’re going to let him burrow into your brain again, pump your body full of dopamine and oxytocin, and start your addiction anew. You’re going to relapse hard and the withdrawal is going to suck.
But right before that…it’s going to feel so fucking good.
As he strips you of your clothes and your will power, you stand back and let him look at you. You know he likes this. He likes looking at your naked body, fully exposed for him and vulnerable. So, you’ll give it to him.
“Fuck…maybe I did miss you,” he says quietly as he takes you all in.
He starts to take off his jacket and pull his tie off, all while still looking you over. You can see what you couldn’t before; a splatter of blood on his white shirt. It’s not a lot, but it’s noticeable, and you know that it doesn’t belong to him. A normal person would be turned off by this. Sickened at the thought. But not you.
He sees you noticing, and he glances down at his shirt, and then back up at you. This isn’t the first time he’s shown up like this, wearing the evidence. And so, he knows. He knows your twisted little fantasies.
With his mouth twitching with arrogance, he steps closer to you again. His hands trail down your sides, and they are warm and familiar. He looks down at you while you bring your hands up to the spot on his shirt. It’s dried and has probably been there for a couple of hours now, having already turned a dark maroon color. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you start to unbutton his shirt.
“Blew his fucking head right off,” he says darkly, in the most fucked-up pre-game dirty talk in the history of the universe.
You let out a small whine, still working at his shirt. Your hands push greedily inside of it, pressing your palms onto the hard curves of his pecs, then running them over his tight shoulders.
“With that same gun?” you ask without looking up.
“Yes.”
“Mmm…” you muse, resuming your undoing of buttons. “Did he beg for his life first?”
“Crying on his knees,” he tells you, and you’re not even sure if he’s telling the truth. He just knows what you want to hear.
His shirt is fully open now and you look up at him while your hands find his flat abdomen and his waistband again. You feel him grip harder into your sides and his breath is coming faster. You know what you’re feeling now isn’t the gun, and you press your palm over the front of his pants, watching his eyes close shut for a moment in response.
It didn’t take much for you to go from want to need to desperation, and you’re already dripping wet for him. You unbuckle his belt and open his pants much faster than you did his shirt. He’s fully hard and when your hand grazes over his cock he groans, digging his fingers even harder into your waist.
“How many shots?”
You’re already pulling him by his shirt collar with both hands, walking backwards and taking him with you as you ask. When you fall onto the couch, he answers while he positions himself over you.
“Two. Right to the fucking head.”
You free his cock from his pants in one quick movement, and then he’s pushing himself inside you as you cry out, clutching at his arms and throwing your head back.
You’ll never get tired of this euphoria. Of the sudden rush of endorphins when his dick slides in and he’s pumping into you. No one else does this to you. No one else makes you feel like you’re going insane. Like you’re shifting into another reality. He gives your outer thigh a swift smack and you raise your legs up higher, spreading them wide, just like he wants.
He’s holding himself up with his hands on the armrest behind your head, the muscles in his arms flexed and hard as he pounds into you. He’s not saying anything, not yet anyway, but the loud panting of his breath and rhythmic clinking of his belt buckle fills your ears. Your own moans grow louder by the second and you can see that smug look cross his face, because he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.
But, fuck, if that look doesn’t make him even hotter. Bastard.
You spy that dark red stain on his shirt again, and you picture the scene he described to you. When you turn your head, you can see the black pistol lying on the table, just a few feet from you. The same one that was used to splatter a man’s head all over the walls and the floor, and onto its owner.
You’re gasping his name and frantically grabbing at his body when he gives one more punishing thrust, making you come hard and loudly underneath him. The waves spread over your body and they don’t seem to stop; one after another as you buck into him. He’s soon to follow, stiffening against you with a low groan, emptying himself and filling you up until his body starts to relax. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck for just a moment and you feel his lips graze your skin before he moves off of you.
As you both lie sprawled on opposite ends of the couch, trying to slow your breathing, he eventually looks over. He smiles in that way that is somehow already resetting and rewetting your aching groin. You return it with your own hazy smile; too high and fucked-out to pretend not to care.
He pushes his hair off his face with his hand, shoving his dick back in his pants, and leans toward you, kissing you with a gentle hand on your cheek. You hate when he’s soft like this. It fucks with your mind even more than he already does. But your lips respond without hesitation and you melt into his hand.
“I really did miss you,” he tells you, pressing his forehead against yours.
You want to cry and push him away. It’s not fair! He’s enabling you and playing into your weakness. And even if you’re the one that had broken down and called, it’s still not fair. He knows it’s a sickness.
“I missed you, too,” you whisper, because you can’t self-sabotage yourself enough.
After another kiss, he pulls back and takes his unfinished drink off the table, settling into the couch while you get up to throw your panties back on. You tip back your own glass and empty the contents in one swallow, taking in the absurdly sexy image in front of you. He’s leaning casually back into the cushions, his pants still unbuttoned and unzipped; white dress shirt fully open and untucked; messy dark hair falling across his forehead.
It would be so satisfying to kick him out right now. But Jesus fucking Christ, just look at him!
Instead, you give in like you always do and join him, resting your head on his chest with one hand on his bare stomach, your legs curled up next to you. He strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head while you sigh, letting your body relax into his.
He won’t be leaving yet, that’s not his game. He likes the companionship and your adoration. He’ll stay through most of the night, while you both talk and have a few more drinks. He’ll fuck you again in the shower, while you cling to his body and he pounds you into the cold, slippery tiles. He’ll fuck you in your bed, slowly and lazily, covering your body in soft kisses that will make you weak and forgetful.
He’ll make you come a few more times, leaving you gasping for air with his cum dripping out of you and your thighs burning. Your sheets will smell like him for days because you won’t be able to bring yourself to change them.
In the dark, he'll tell you more things you want to hear. I missed you. You’re so beautiful. I want you. I need you. He’s not cruel and he’s not a liar. He means the things he says. But that doesn’t mean he’ll stay. He never will, and you know it. The full reason for it, you’re not sure. Insecurities, trauma, secrets…so many secrets. No matter how many times you’ve poured your heart out, bathed him in reassurances, and cursed him until you were red in the face and crying. He will never stay.
You know what tomorrow and the next week or more will bring. The withdrawal symptoms will kick in and it will be hell. This won’t be cold sweats, shakes, and waves of nausea. It will be tears, self-hatred, and all-encompassing shame.
But he’s here now. And you drink in the scent of him. Sweat, sex, bourbon. All mixed together and highlighted with a slight twinge of copper. It’s better than any upper or downer or anything else that can be cooked up in a lab. It’s fucking maddening and you can’t get enough.
“Thanks for coming over,” you say as you rub your cheek over his chest.
“Thanks for calling.”
“This is the last time, though, I mean it. I can’t keep doing this,” you lie.
“I know. This is the last time,” he lies in return.
He places another soft kiss to your temple, reaffirming what you already know. That he will be your ultimate down fall. Your rock bottom.
But damn, it’s going to feel so fucking good on the way down.
Link to my Master List
106 notes · View notes
parkersbliss · 2 years
Note
may i request five hargreeves x reader who acts like harley quinn 🥺🫶
i hope you like this! i tried to nail her personality but thank you for the request!! <3
Massacre | F. Hargreeves
Tumblr media
pairing: five hargreeves x female reader
wc; 1.3k
warnings: violence, cursing
synopsis: partners in crime or partners for life? take downs with five are always fun… for you at least
requests: CLOSED
Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt list
You look around you, twirling your hair around your finger with a frown. “I can’t believe they picked here out of all places. We could’ve gone to like Los Angelos, Dubai somewhere fun!”
Five sighs. “We’re not here for fun, (Y/N). We’re here on business.”
You pout a little more, sticking out your bottom lip. “Oh c’mon, you can’t tell me some part of you is not itching for the thrill of killing the board.”
“I’m doing this for my family.” There’s a short pause before he adds. “And you.”
You smile, “Aw, aren’t you just the sweetest!”
Five rolls his eyes, strolling into the building and smiling at the lady. You, on the other hand, find yourself engulfed in the scenery. Particularly the cat and rabbit statue. You had a feeling it was coming home with you as a souvenir.
“Excuse me?” Five asked.
“Uff da! You snuck up on me there,” The woman gasps, eyeing the two children in front of her. “If you’re looking for the cookies, we don’t put ‘em out til three.”
“Cookies?” You ask excitedly. “Oooh, what type?”
“She can hardly wait,” Five said, a little strain in his voice. “Uh, do you happen to know where the midwest soybean society is meeting?
“Sure do! Muskellunge banquet room. You looking for your mom? She in the convention?”
You look around absentmindedly, boredom settling in, and you decide to walk around. Or well, you tried before Five grabbed your hand and pulled you right back next to him. You sigh in defeat, crossing your arms.
“Hey, could I get some change?” Five asked, eyeing something just over the lady's shoulder.
“Oh sure, I’ll just look in my purse,” she chirps, unzipping it and digging around. “Only a nickel and a couple of dimes… oh, you are in luck, mister!”
She grabs the change and drops it in Five’s hand as you begin tapping your foot against the floor in annoyance. You were dying to get in that room and create a bloody massacre. It felt like it had been forever since you got an assignment. Which it kind of has been since you and Five left the commission.
“You know, some say the best luck is to die at the right time,” Five remarked, walking away.
You grin at the lady. “So let’s hope today’s not your lucky day.”
She blinks at you, a frown marring her features, and you just shrug, skipping up to Five.
He slips in the change, pressing a few buttons and waiting.
“So you weren’t gonna ask me if I wanted anything?”
“Sorry, did you want kiss my ass or fuck you?”
You gasp, slapping a hand against your chest. “Well, now that’s not very nice of you.”
“I’m not exactly in a nice mood, my dear.”
He huffs when his fudge nutter fails to fall towards the slot. His hands ball into fists, and he begins punching and kicking the machine, uttering curses the whole time. You just let him do his thing. The angrier he is, the more fun the massacre.
The vending machine shatter and Five angrily stomps off. You push yourself off the wall, grabbing a fudge nutter and tucking it in your pocket to give to him later. You follow after him, watching as he swipes a finger across the cake. He likes the icing off his finger, grabbing an ax by a table and waiting for you.
You grab a fistful of cake, licking the rest of it off your fingertips and cocking your head at Five. “Sorry, did you want any?”
“(Y/N).”
You giggle, grabbing the other ax and twirling it in your hands. “C’mon, baby boy, let’s have some fun!”
Five kicks the door open, holding his ax in hand while you smile.
“You!” AJ exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the table. “Call security!”
Before the lady can, you swing your ax through an arc in the air and watch as it cuts clean through, and she slumps to the ground. You let out a loud cheer. “Let’s get this party started!”
“What are you doing?” AJ yells as Five teleports to the other side of the room, and the massacre begins.
You throw your ax at the person closest to you, watching as their head falls to the ground. You brush off the blood on your shoulder before grabbing the ax and resuming pace. You stand back to back with Five, laughing the whole time, as you send your ax into various heads, blood splattering everywhere. One tries to grab you, and you gasp. You shove the ax straight through their chest. “That’s no way to treat a lady!”
You survey the room, blood drenching the table and your clothes. You stand next to a group slumped in their chairs, one missing his head, the other’s throat slit open, and your ax stuck in the back of the other’s head. “Photo op!” You squeal.
“She sent you, didn’t she?” AJ asked as Five appeared in front of him. You yank your ax from the back of the man’s head, using your finger to wipe off the brain matter before standing by Five, leaning on the said ax.
“Does it really matter now?” You said with a fake pout. "Poor little AJ. A stupid, little goldfish I could eat for dinner."
“What ever she offered you, I will double it, triple it!” AJ begs.
Your eyes light up. “What are we talking? I could really go for—”
Suddenly a body tackles you to the floor, and you scream. “Get off me, you pig!”
“You’re gonna for that vending machine, little miss,” The lady shouts as you thrash in her grip. You roll your eyes, it wasn't even you!
“We don’t want to hurt you,” Five said, appearing behind her.
“I do. In fact, I’ll enjoy carving the eyes out of your head and feeding them to my cats," You snarl.
“Hurt me? Oh, I ain’t afraid of you, you little pus ball,” she sneers.
“All right, that’s it. Hands off her.” Five lands a hard kick across the lady’s face, and she lands next to you unconscious.
He offers you a hand, pulling you to your feet. “My dear.”
“Where did AJ go?” You asked, ignoring Five’s lingering gaze on you.
“Shit!” He groans.
“He’s a fish, Five. He didn’t get far.”
You grab your ax off the ground while Five runs out of the room. As expected AJ isn’t even halfway down the hall. Five teleports right in front of him with a shit-eating grin.
“This isn’t your style Five,” AJ begins. “Doing the Handler’s dirty work?”
Five shrugs. “No, you’re right. It’s hers.”
You step up, ax hanging off your shoulder. “Hiya there, AJ!”
“Surely, we can come to some sort of agreement that benefits both parties. Quid pro quo? What do you say?” He asked, stumbling back.
“Why not?” Five said, grabbing a piece of wood.
“Here’s your quid,” He shouts, slamming AJ’s stomach, “here’s your pro!”
“No, please, please, no!”
“And here’s your quo!” You laugh, driving the ax into his glass bowl and watching as the fish flops on the ground.
You let him suffer just for a few minutes before Five grabs a bag full of water and slips him in.
“Well, that was fun,” You said cheekily. “It’s just like the old days. Honestly, this might be my new favorite mission.”
“Is that so?” Five said bitterly.
You poke Five’s cheek. “Don’t be so glum. I know you enjoyed that.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“What you were trained to do.”
Five clicks his tongue but says nothing more.
“I just think the blood-drenched outfit suits you. That’s all, baby.”
Five sighs and stops in his tracks, facing you and your bright eyes. He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and wipes some blood from your face.
“We’re going home now, (Y/N).”
You just smile. “Home is wherever you are.”
If there wasn’t blood covering Five’s face, you might’ve said he was blushing. You reach into your pocket and hand him the fudge nutter. He chuckles but takes it.
“You know you drive me insane, right?” He asked.
“Only in the best kind of way.”
Five just hums his agreement.
2K notes · View notes
stars-n-stuff15 · 2 years
Text
Five: Let me show you a picture from last night that really upset me
Y/N: Okay but in my defense Klaus bet me 50¢ I couldn’t drink all that shampoo.
Five: That’s not what I wanted to- YOU DRANK SHAMPOO??
500 notes · View notes
paperpocalypse · 2 years
Text
case 254.
50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 1. There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader Word Count: 1,591 words Warnings: Swearing, violence
Tumblr media
You are, by all accounts, married to your work.
And you are a loyal lover. The briefcase is your certificate, the bullets your vows. You keep them close wherever you go. Twenty-four years in the Commission is nothing to sneeze at, and you have never – not once – been unfaithful.
… Not in action, at least. Recent thoughts of retirement have begun tempting you to the point of an emotional affair.
(You’d get married, maybe. To a person, not a job. Live in a one-story home with a pond in the backyard and not too far from the nearest Walmart, adopt a little dog that you and your spouse spoil to bits. You’d die peacefully in your sleep instead of bleeding out in an alleyway somewhere.)
“Shit.”
Coughing, you spit and wipe your mouth with the cuff of your sleeve. Damn Arnie made you bite your own tongue.
“The police will be here any minute!” he yells through the walls, and something clatters to the ground. “You can’t make me go back!”
“I’m not making you go back, Arn,” you call back, exasperated. “I got an order to kill you.”
“Oh, fuck off!”
You chuckle and stumble back to your feet.
Arnold had been a loyal employee of the Temps Commission for twenty years. He specializes in 18th century weaponry, his kill count is in the hundreds, and he relies on cigarettes in the same way you rely on coffee. He is also a friend of yours – or the closest thing a Temps assassin can have to a friend – and that’s probably why the Board sent you to kill him.
They had given you two days. You had promised one.
It’s been three.
“You shouldn’t have tried to sell your briefcase to the military, Arnie!”
Arnie doesn’t reply. The squeal and slam of a door grates on your ears, and you swear aloud, rushing to the bathroom.
You break the door open and don’t hesitate to fire in quick succession, just barely missing a shoe slipping from the windowsill.
Clicking your tongue, you pause.
“Dammit.”
Something small and cylindrical is lobbed through the window, bouncing and rolling to a stop at your feet.
“Dammit!”
You book it out of the bathroom, rounding a corner and diving to the ground just as the grenade explodes. The floor shivers. You cover your ears and hold your breath.
If people had ignored the ruckus beforehand, they certainly can’t now.
Panting, you scrape yourself off the floor, reaching back to pull your Glock out and heading back to the bathroom. “Son of a bitch …”
Smoke and burst pipes and rubble are all that remains of the bathroom. Your heart drops to your stomach when you recognize the guts of your Commission briefcase among the rubble. This has got to be the second-worst fumble of your career; you should’ve thrown the briefcase out first and then run out. Your rifle is a lost cause too.
Shaking your head, you approach the gaping hole in the wall and slowly clamber down the side of the building. Arnold couldn’t have gotten far, not with a concussion and the bullet in his leg. Thank goodness. You don’t have as much stamina for high-speed chases as you used to.
The same moment that you land on a patch of broken bricks and dirt, the sound of a gunshot resonates behind you.
You immediately whip around, firing a shot into Case 254’s head before you can even register that his back had been facing you.
Arnold collapses, dead, onto the ground a few meters away from you. Your lips part. You quickly look back up and keep your gun poised.
A man points his rifle back at you.
“Got him before you did,” he tells you, voice low and gruff.
There’s a briefcase at his feet.
“Did the Board think I couldn’t handle this one?” you ask, aiming between the man’s eyes. You like the way he speaks, even though it pisses you off. He’s confident. “Or do they think I defected too?”
“Did you?” he challenges.
Not in ways they can punish. “If I did, Arnie wouldn’t have tried to blow me up with an MK3.”
“… Humph.”
Sirens are getting ever louder. The two of you lower your weapons; you’re no longer wary of this fellow assassin, but the glare he’s fixing you with makes you want to rile him up.
“Tell me your name, hotshot,” you say, walking over to Arnold and rummaging through his clothes.
He grunts sourly. “Why would I tell you anything?”
“To make conversation.” You find some loose change and a coupon for a tanning salon – alright – but what you’re really interested in is the copy of the briefcase’s blueprints. You pocket everything. “It stimulates the mind. I think you might need that in your old age.”
When you face the man fully again, he rolls his eyes.
Then he literally disappears into thin air.
You blink. The dots connect as quickly as the flaring lights of police cars shine around the corners of the building, and a frenzied laugh escapes your lips.
“What a gentleman.”
Guess the rumors were right – the Commission’s new darling, Five, is a genius as well as an asshole.
On the other side of the apartment complex, the detective tells officers to surround the building. You quickly put your gun away and take off before they reach the back.
“I heard someone running! Over here!”
You run until you reach a chain-link fence, locating a spot where the mesh had peeled away from the post and slipping through with gritted teeth. The air inside your mask weighs on your skin, hot and thick from your heavy breathing. Your feet already hurt. You should’ve invested in those gel insoles Arnold told you about before he decided to defect.
“Stop! This is the police!”
You hold back a groan. You’re getting too old for this shit.
But you keep going anyways. You keep running, turn a corner and cut through back alleys, knock out the few people you pass who are unlucky enough to be out at two in the morning. And for some reason, they keep pursuing you, getting closer and closer –
You hear something like a muffled pop of air. A hand grips your arm and drags you into an alley.
You scramble for your Glock, but as soon as your fingers brush its handle, it disappears. Five pushes you down behind a dumpster and shoves a hand up your mask to cover your mouth. It takes everything in you to keep from gagging when you land on a trash bag way too wet-sounding for your liking.
“Quiet.”
You huff, tearing his hand away. Your arm is pinned against his sternum, your head much too close to his. His breathing is quiet, measured, and slow.
(He’s used to this. Used to running, used to hiding, just like you.)
Five runs warm. You like it in the same way that you like the way he speaks.
Footsteps hurry past your hiding place, then fade into the distance.
After waiting about ten more minutes, you let your head knock back against the wall. “Shit.” You chuckle. “I owe you one, Mr. Five.”
Five doesn’t acknowledge your gratitude. Instead, he pushes himself away from you and drops your Glock into your lap, then grabs his briefcase and stands up. Though you resent the loss of heat, you join him with a more appropriate amount of space between the two of you.
“I’ll take you back to headquarters,” Five states, sounding as if his teeth are about to be pulled.
“Thank you kindly,” you reply. “It must be my lucky day, getting my hide saved and escorted by the Commission’s rising star.”
“I’m sure.” His tone is dry.
Sirens wail as you tell him your name.
“I know,” Five mutters, unclipping the briefcase. “You were mentioned in the kill order for your pal back there.”
Ah. You nod, smiling a bit tightly, and put your hands on the briefcase as well. “Of course.”
A flash, and you’re both back in 1955, the sun too bright and the air too stale. You feel the beginnings of a headache.
“Still hate time travel after twenty plus years,” you comment, letting go. “Did using your powers have the same effect?”
Five regards you silently, lips pursed. “Hard to recall,” he finally says, snapping the briefcase shut.
“The lab’s developing some meds for the side effects. Apparently, they’re doing trial runs soon.”
“That so.”
“Yes.” You squint up at HQ, brush off your suit, and exhale loudly. “Anyway, I better get going. See you later, Mr. Five.”
A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Just Five is fine.”
“See you later, Five,” you emphasize with a grin. “Maybe we’ll be able to team up in the future.”
All he does is cast you an unimpressed glance before disappearing through one of his teleportation portal things.
You stare at the now empty space and sigh, putting your hands on your hips. Well, the apocalypse doesn’t exactly make one a good conversationalist. (Either that, or he finds you insufferable.)
As you stroll into the Commission building to turn in the briefcase blueprint and procure another briefcase, you think of your life so far. You think of your marriage to your work, of the sleepless honeymoon stage and the bitter taste of the past ten years. You think of that dark alley, of that moment of companionship, one-sided though it was.
And maybe you find yourself just a little more unfaithful.
846 notes · View notes
mayfieldss · 2 years
Text
Lucky - Diego Hargreeves
Warnings: Language, mentions of blood, violence, injured reader.
AN: Some scrap of best boy Diego idk.
Tumblr media
"It's okay to cry, honey" The words of Diego, your partner in crime burned against the silence as he tended to your wound. He knew it hurt, more than you would admit, and he was trying his best to be gentle, but when tending to that of a bullet wound, such things came to be difficult.
"Don't patronize me Diego"
"I'm not patronizing you" Your leg screamed, pain ripping at your thigh with the force of a thousand stray cats hungry for a fight, but you were still just as feisty as you'd always been. Diego loved that about you, but it certainly made you hard to help. "You know, I could just leave you here to bleed out and die".
Diego watched your face contort in both pain and contemplation, "Your big boy hero complex is too strong for that". God, you made it hard to like you, yet somehow, Diego did.
"I don't have a big boy hero complex".
Diego listened to you snort as he wiped the blood from your leg. He was surprised at how you let him help you, having expected the all too famous 'I'm fine, I can do it myself'. He was beyond shocked you hadn't broken his nose yet, and that was nowhere near an exaggeration.
"You do have a hero complex, it's ninety percent of your personality Hargreeves".
"Okay," Diego admitted, allowing himself a small nod "I might have something of a hero complex, but isn't ninety percent of me".
Diego hadn't expected the smile that formed on your lips despite your pain. He knew you were trying your best to stay calm, despite the situation and he tried his best to stay composed himself.
"Seventy percent".
"How about thirty percent?" as much as he hated giving into your teases, Diego couldn't help himself. If a bargain would take your mind off the bullet in your thigh, the blood pouring from your body, so be it.
"How about fifty?" You still held your smile, but your voice was shaky with pain, as was expected in the least.
"Okay so maybe fifty percent of me is a hero complex, so what?" Diego glanced down at your injury, barely visible through smudges of blood. He tried his best not to panic at the sight, but it really was a lot.
"Tell me the truth Diego, how bad is it?".
"How would you feel if I told you a hospital trip might be in order?".
There was a short silence before a loud groan escaped your lips, making Diego wince. He knew what you would be thinking, the exact same as him. He'd made up a story in his head, what they would tell the nurses and doctors when they headed in to get you stitched up.
"You have the worst kind of luck"
Your eyes were still screwed up tight, head resting on the wall of the alley you lay in. "Don't you think I know that Diego?".
"Okay" Diego let out a huff, his efforts to fix you up doing no good for either of you. "Get in the car, we're going to the emergency room".
You groaned in response but allowed Diego to assist you to the vehicle. He knew well enough you would never hitch a ride in an ambulance so, Diego braced himself for a week of cleaning your blood off his seats.
The drive there was not easy, every bump in the road causing you to yelp out in pain despite yourself, but soon enough Diego was slamming on the brake, your destination no more than a few feet away.
"Can I have some help over here?" He knew you hated the attention, the eyes of those that most likely had been waiting hours to see a doctor or even nurse, turning in the direction of his voice only to catch sight of someone who no doubt would be attended to before them.
You left a trail of blood in your wake as you were moved to a private room, as to which nurses set to work on professionally fixing up your wound. Diego couldn't deny that he'd made a mess of it.
"Sir?" a nurse turned, facing Diego with the politest of smiles. Her blonde hair tied back in a bun, uniform pristine white. Diego thought she looked like something from a horror movie. The untrustworthy doctor’s assistant that led you to your death. "Would you mind? This might hurt". The lady gestured toward your hand and Diego understood the assignment he had been given, though he wasn't sure you would let him carry it out. The nurse had clearly never met you, nor had to experience your wrath.
You must have seen his wary eyes, wondering if he should indeed follow through with what had been asked of him, because you grasped his hand quickly, tugging him over to you. "God just hold my hand, I'm not that scary".
"You most definitely are".
"Shut up- oh Jesus Christ!" The nurse without warning had begun rubbing at your wound with disinfectant, you squeezing Diego's hand tightly in response.
"What were you saying?" He couldn't help but tease, knowing you would do the exact same to him if the roles were reversed, though in truth he was just trying to cover for the fact that he wasn't used to seeing you in so much pain. It scared him, as much as he hated to admit it.
"I will stab you Hargreeves, I swear on my-" you were cut off again as the nurse once again gave no warning, starting upon sewing up the wound. A string of curse words left your lips, tears springing to your eyes that you couldn't push down any longer.
Placing his free hand on your shoulder Diego gave it a light squeeze. "Look at me, it won't hurt if you look at me".
You turned, locking eyes with the umbrella academy graduate only to release a low growl "It still fucking hurts Diego".
"Let me kiss it better". Diego puckered his lips at you, hoping for a laugh or even a smile to ease your pain, but of course you weren't that type of person.
"If you even try such a thing, I will burn your lips off".
Diego smirked at that, taking notice of how your time spent sending him fake threats took your mind off the pain. Soon enough, many curse words later, you were stitched up and told to wait for paperwork, a wheelchair, and the official go from the doctor. Diego stood beside you, still holding your hand despite it all being over. The best part was that you hadn't told him to let go.
"You, okay?" Diego let the question slip, watching as you nodded slowly eyeing your stitches.
"Thanks" The word came in a mumble, but Diego heard you just fine, trying to hide his smile as you avoided his gaze. Diego then let himself lean forward, pressing a short kiss to the top of your head. There was a silence to which Diego thought he would be beaten half to death for such an act, but you simply sat there still grasping his hand.
"My lips are still intact it seems".
You glanced his way, a small grumble escaping you "They won't be if you keep talking".
"Oh my god" Diego's eyes widened, the realisation dawning on him. "You liked that didn't you?".
You let out a small "No”, but he'd caught you appreciating his affections and had no intention of letting it go. It was the one time when he hadn't been beaten half to death for caring about you, he wanted to make sure you knew how much that meant. He also wanted you to admit that you enjoyed such care.
"You like holding my hand".
"No, I don't".
"Then why won't you let go?".
There was silence, you avoiding his gaze once again before you heaved a sigh.
"If I admit that I don't despise you, will leave me alone?".
Diego nodded, smile on his lips "I don't think you want me to leave you alone, but sure".
You were quiet for a moment, looking toward the white basin in the corner of the room "I like holding your hand Diego Hargreeves, but you better not let it go to your head".
"Too late for that sweetheart" Diego was grinning from ear to ear, eyeing you closely, and for a mere second, he swore he saw a smile threatening to spill upon your own lips. This he didn't mention however, believing you'd had enough teasing for today. In a few days from now, Diego would bring it up again, but for now he was content with the fact that maybe you liked him just as much as he did you.
-
AN: it's unedited scrap hour
TAGLIST GENERAL: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreads
UMBRELLA ACADMEY TAGLIST: empty :(
375 notes · View notes
fqolinlove · 2 years
Text
જ⁀➴ Run Boy Run.
Tumblr media
╰┈ BEWARE OF .. violence, swearing, bad writing
:・゚✧:・.☽˚。・゚✧:・.:
“I survived on scraps. Canned food, cockroaches, anything I could find.” Five chuckles softly. “You know that rumor that Twinkies have an endless shelf life? Well, it’s total bullshit.”
“I cant even imagine.” Says Vanya.
“You do whatever it takes to survive,” He taps his glass. “or you die. So we adapted. Whatever the word threw at us, we found a way to overcome it.”
Y/N leaned forward in her spot so her elbows were rested on her knees. “I’m sorry, we?” Five didn’t reply, instead he looked to Vanya and asked for a stronger drink. Vanya nods, standing up to walk to the kitchen with his glass in hand and pours some alcohol into the cup.
Five takes a sip as his older sister stares at him. “You think I’m crazy.”
“No, it’s just.. it’s a lot to take in.” She stammers. Five didn’t seem to like her answer. “Exactly what don’t you understand?”
“Five.” Y/N sends him a glare.
“Why didn’t you just time travel back?” Five scoffs and sighs. “Gee, wish I thought of that. Time travel is a crapshoot. I went into the ice and never acorn-ed. You think I didn’t try everything to get back to my family?”
Vanya nods in understanding. “If you grew old there, you know, in the apocalypse, how come you still look like a kid?”
Five scoffs. “I told you already.” He walks around Vanya, putting his glass on the counter, grabbing more of the alcohol. “I must have got the equations wrong.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s just an idiot.” Y/N whispered to Vanya who looked at her for a moment before going back to the conversation at hand.
“I mean, Dad did always used to say that… time travel could mess up your mind. Well, maybe that’s what’s happening?”
“This was a mistake.” Five turns around. “You’re too young… too naïve to understand.” He grabs his blazer off the couch and grabs Y/N’s wrist, heading to the door.
“No. Five… Five, wait.” The boy stops walking. “I haven’t seen you in a long time, and I don’t want to lose you again. That’s all. And you know what, it’s getting late and I have lessons early, and I need to sleep, and I’m sure you do, too.” Vanya walks to the couch, laying the blanket that was laid over the back of it onto the black couch. “We’ll talk in the morning again. Okay? I promise. Night.” She then walks off into her bedroom.
“Night.”
“Night, Vans.”
Once Vanya disappeared, Five and Y/N took a seat on the couch. Y/N leaned back so her head was rested on the back of it looking at the ceiling. Her eyes travelled to Five as he took a bag out of his pocket. He opened to bag and took out an eyeball. Y/N didn’t say anything as he examined it, turning it over to read the address on the back.
He suddenly stood up. “Come on, let’s go.” He gave no other explanation as he walked to the door, holding it open as the girl got herself up and followed him. Once they were both out, he closed the door gently and grabbed Y/N’s hand, spatial jumping.
:・゚✧:・.☽˚。・゚✧:・.:
The two ended up outside of a big building. They entered and took the elevator up to the second floor. From there, Five looked around for a doctor, while Y/N took in her new surroundings.   
“Uh, can I help you?” Y/N turned her head at the new voice, seeing a doctor had just walked up a desk in front of them.
 “I need to know who this belongs to.” Five shows him the eye. “Where did you get that?” “What do you care?” They bickered.
“We, uh, found it at a playground.” Y/N folded her lips in and showed him a tight smile. “Uh, must have just--”
Five clicks his tongue. “popped out” He finishes her sentence. “We wanna return it to its rightful owner.”
“Oh what a thoughtful young couple.” The lady at the other desk not far away says, hands over her heart.
“Yeah. Look up the name for me, will ya?” Five says, ignoring the way his stomach slightly turned when the woman pointed him and Y/N as a couple.
The doctor had wide eyes at his bluntness. “Uh, I'm sorry, but patient records are strictly confidential. That means I can't tell you--”
“Yeah, Doc. We know what it means.” The girl spoke up. She was impatient with the lack of information they were getting. Five wrapped his free hand around Y/N’s upper arm to keep from doing anything
“But I'll tell you what I can do.” The doctor started. “I will take the eye off your hands and return it to the owner. I'm sure he or she will be very grateful, so if I can just--” He reaches over to take it from Five, who pulls his arm back. “Yeah, you're not touching this eye.”
“Now, you listen here, young man-” He grunts when five the collar of his shirt, pulling him to meet at eye level. “No! You listen to me, asshole. I've come a long way for this, through some shit your pea brain couldn't even comprehend, so just give me the information I need, and I'll be on my merry way. And if you call me "young man" one more time, I'm gonna put your head through that damn wall.”
“Okay, Five. Let the man go.” Y/N pried Five’s tight gripped hands off the man as he looked to his coworker and told her to call security. The girl kept a hold of the boy’s hand as they made their way to the elevator. “So..what now?” Y/N asked when the doors closed.
“Now, we need an adult.”
:・゚✧:・.☽˚。・゚✧:・.:
And that’s how Y/N ended up watching Five shove Klaus into his bedroom closet as they heard their sister, Vanya, calling for them from the hallway. 
“Five? Y/N? Guys?” Vanya walks in to see Five looking out his window and Y/N sitting at his desk, seemingly to be looking over old notes Five had written. She sighs. “Oh, thank God. I was worried sick about you.”
“Sorry we left without saying goodbye.” Five says, stepping away from the window.
“No, look, I'm the one that should be sorry. Yeah, I was dismissive, and I-I guess I didn't know how to process what you were saying. And I still can't, to be honest.” She explained.
“Maybe you were right to be dismissive.” He scoffs. “Maybe it wasn't real after all. It felt real.” Five walks over to his dresser and pushes a toy train before walking back to Vanya. “Well like you said, the old man did say time travel could contaminate the mind.”
“Then maybe I'm not the right person for you to be talking to. Look, I used to see someone. A therapist. I could give you her information.”
“Thanks, but I think I'm just gonna get some rest. It's been a long time since I've had a good sleep.” He smiled. Y/N stood up from her seat, standing slightly behind him so she was able to rest her chin on one of his shoulders and one hand reached to hold the opposite shoulder. “And I’ll make sure he does.”
“Okay.” Vanya nodded before turning around and walking out of the room. The boy shrugged Y/N off his shoulder and walked to his door, making sure she left. Suddenly, items clatter and Klaus pushes out of the closet. “That's so,” He puts a hand over his heart. “touching, all that stuff about family and Dad and time. Wow!”
“Would you shut up? She'll hear you.” Five whisper shouts to his brother.
“I'm moist.”
“I told you to put on something professional.” Y/N took the time to look at his outfit - which was mostly just a bunch of things put together. Very Klaus style.
“What? This is my nicest outfit.” 
Five sighs. “We'll raid the old man's closet.”
“As long as I get paid.” The group starts to walk out of Five’s room and towards Reggie’s room. “When the job is done.”
“Okay, but just so we're clear on the finer details, I just gotta go into this place and pretend to be your dear old dad, correct?”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
“Who is Y/N?” He asks, smirk on his lips. 
“Well, the doctor already thinks we’re a couple?” She said it like a question, almost wondering if she should’ve said it in the first place. Klaus gasps, saying that it’s a perfect role for her.
“What's our cover story?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“I mean, was I really young when I had you? Like, 16? Like, young and - terribly misguided? Your mother, that slut. Whoever she was. We met at the Disco.” He chuckles. “Okay? Remember that.” He snaps his fingers. “Oh, my God, the sex was amazing.”
“What a disturbing glimpse into that thing you call a brain.’ Five shakes his head, grabbing Y/N’s arm and bringing her along with him.
“Don't make me put you in time-out!”
“Like I said to your son and girlfriend earlier, any information about the prosthetics we build is strictly confidential. Without the client's consent, I simply can't help you.” The doctor, Lance, explained.
“Well, we can't get consent if you don't give us a name.” Five bit back from his position. He was standing behind Y/N’s chair that she was seated legs folded on, his hands griping the top of the seat.  
“Well, that's not my problem. Sorry. Now, there's really nothing more I can do, so-”
“And what about my consent?” “Excuse me?”
“Who gave you permission,” Klaus starts to fake cry. “to lay your hands on my son and his girlfriend?” 
“What?” They all exclaimed. “You heard me.”
“I didn't touch your son or his girlfriend.”
Klaus leans from his seat. “Oh, really? Well, then how did he get that swollen lip, then? And why is her cheek cut?”
“He doesn't have a swollen-” He’s cut off when Five grunts from the impact of Klaus’ palm attaching to his cheek. The doctor then watches as the older man makes his way to the girl, her eyes wide as Klaus repats his action, but this time his ring catching the skin of her cheek. Causing a cut, not large enough to really cause damage, but big enough that the cut started to bleed quickly.
Klaus turns to the doctor with a sharp inhale. “I want it. Name, please. Now.”
“You're crazy.” Lance breaths out, his eyes catching Five as he tilts Y/N’s chin to look at him and he inspects the cut. Lance looks back at Klaus as he chuckles. “You got no idea. "Peace on Earth." That's so sweet.” He smashes the globe over his head with a groan. “God, that hurt!”
“I'm calling secur- What are you doing?” The bleeding man takes the phone from his hand. “There's been an assault in Mr. Big's office, and we need security, now. Schnell!” The receiver clatters. “Now, here's what's gonna happen, Grant.”
“It's Lance.”
“In about 60 seconds, two security guards are gonna burst through that door, and they're gonna see a whole lot of blood, and they're gonna wonder, "What the hell happened?" And we're gonna tell them that you beat the shit out of us.” He sobs dramatically. “You're gonna do great in prison, Grant. Trust me, I've been there. Little piece of chicken like you. Oh, my God, you're gonna get passed around like a..” Klaus moves his hips in circles. “you're just You're gonna do great. That's all I'm saying.”
“Jesus, you are a real sick bastard.”
 “Thank you.” He spits out glass. Five wore a victory smirk and Y/N stood beside him with her arms crossed, a proud smile on her face as more blood fell from the cut. The sight made her look like a badass.
The trio followed Lance out to cubbies as he searched for a folder. He opened it and read a few lines before speaking. “Oh, that's strange.” 
“What?”
“Uh, the eye. It hasn't been purchased by a client yet.” Klaus jumps from the cabinet he was sitting on and moves to look over the doc’s shoulder. “What? What do you mean?”
“Well, uh, our logs say that the eye with that serial number. This can't be right. It hasn't even been manufactured yet. Where did you get that eye?”
“Well, this is not good.” Says Five as they all walked out of the building.
“I was pretty good, though, right? "Yeah. What about my consent, bitch?"” Klaus chuckles.
“Klaus, it doesn't matter.”
“What? What? What's the big deal with this eye, anyway?”
“There is someone out there who's going to lose an eye in the next seven days. They're gonna bring about the end of life on this Earth as we know it.” Five explains, but Klaus wasn’t really paying attention.
“Yeah, can I get that 20 bucks, like, now, or what?”
“Your 20 bucks?”
“Yeah, my 20 bucks.”
“The apocalypse is coming, and all you can think about is getting high?”
“Oh my God” Mumbles Y/N, head titled back to look at the sky. She could feel a headache coming on from the two.
“Well, I'm also quite hungry. Tummy's a-rumblin'.” Klaus imitates groaning.
“You're useless. You're all useless!” Five walks off to the set of stairs in front of them.
“Excuse you, Five. I’ve let you drag me around since you got back and now you’re calling me useless? What the hell?” Y/N wasn’t overly mad, she got that this must be stressful for him. But she still was upset that he thought she was useless. Afterall, that’s what her Dad would say after everyone had grown up and adapted to their powers more.
Klaus followed Five to the stairs. “Oh, come on. You need to lighten up, old man. Hey, you know, I've just now realized why you're so uptight. You must be horny as hell!” He lets out a laugh. “All those years by yourself. It's gotta screw with your head, being alone.”
“Well I wasn't alone.” At that note, Y/N sat down on the other side of Klaus, wanting to hear his story.
“Oh? Pray tell.”  
“Her name was Delores. We were together for over 30 years.”
“Wow, didn’t think little ol’ Five would end up with someone for more then a day or two.” Y/N gasped, poking fun at the boy. 
“Ha. Ha, very funny, Y/N.” Five shook his head.
“Thirty years? Oh, wow! God, the longest I've been with someone was I don't know, three weeks. And that's only because I was so tired of looking for a place to sleep.” Five grabbed Y/N’s hand from behind Klaus and spatial jumped them to a nearby Taxi. “Don't stop. Just keep going.” As they drove past Klaus, Five waved.
“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, what about my money?”
:・゚✧:・.☽˚。・゚✧:・.:
It was night-time and raining when the two got to their destination. A store. A closed store. Y/N followed Five as he calmly walked to the front doors, his warm hand grabbing her cold one as he spatial jumped inside.
“Five? What’re we doin’ here?” Questioned Y/N once Five dropped her hand. She was tired from all the events of today and her cheek started to hurt. It stopped bleeding, but she would’ve liked to actually clean it up. Five didn’t answer and instead started to walk down one of the isles.
The girl followed once again, passing a sign that said ‘Gimbel Brothers’. Her eyes scanned the place for anything, noticing the stack of flashlights on her left, she picked one up and threw it to Five. He caught it with ease and flicked it on, Y/N did the same. 
They walked down more isles, the rain hitting the doors from the outside was the only noise except for their shoes clicking against the floor. Y/N almost ran into Five when he abruptly stopped walking, mouth turned into a smile and his flashlight pointed at the mannequin ahead of him.
The boy slowly continues down the isle that leads to the said mannequin, and he sighs. “Delores.” Upon hearing the name, Y/N also points her flashlight to where his is. A brown wig with a yellow hat sat on top of the mannequin’s head. A white and black dotted shirt covering the chest and blue jeans. “It's good to see you. I've missed you obviously. Well, I.. It's been a rough couple of days.”
Y/N said nothing as she watched Five talk to it. Of course she thought it was hella weird that Five was talking to an unliving thing, but, it wasn’t the weirdest thing she has ever seen. Not when you grow up with a bunch of boys. As Five was having his moment, Y/N noticed movement from in between the mannequin’s.
“Hey, uh, Five? Not to ruin your moment or whatever, but I think theirs someone else here.”
“What-” Gunshots had rung out towards the two before Five could properly finish what he was saying. “No!” He pulled Y/N’s arm down with him as he reached the floor, looking for shelter over the bullets. They crawled to the nearest clothing rack, watching as the plastic chest and head of the doll shot off the legs.
“Shit, it’s them.” 
“Them? Who’s them!?” Five, like an idiot, moves out to grab the plastic doll and bring it over to where Y/N was still hiding. He laid it down carefully. 
“I’ll be back for you.” He said to it. “Y/N, stay here.” 
“No- No! I’m not babysitting your plastic pet while theirs people shooting at us!” Y/N shot back with a glare. She didn’t feel like getting shot or killed because she had to watch Five’s doll.
“Please?” Something about the way his eyes formed into puppy dog eyes and his voice shook made Y/N huff out a breath. “Fuck, fine.” And with that, he jumped away.
The gunshots increased as Five moved around the store. Y/N almost didn’t see the shoes in front of her until she looked up to see a man with a blue bunny mask on, gun pointed at her head.
She gulped. “Would you believe me if I said I was on a late night shift and was about to leave?” Blue bunny didn’t say anything and instead, moved to shoot the gun. Before he could, Y/N sent a kick to his knee and used her powers to create fog, grabbing the doll and running away. The man managed to get a slight grip back as this time he did shoot, the bullet landing on Y/N’s right calf.
Ignoring the pain, she ran until she clashed into Five. Almost falling to the floor before Five caught her by the hand and pulled her along. He had a bag in his other hand and Y/N handed him the plastic and watched as he (carefully) shoved it in, putting his arms through the straps so it settled on his back.
The two maneuvered their way through the store, Y/N falling behind slightly from her calf, the blood already seeping out far to quickly. Five tried to spatial jump, but couldn’t as he was too tired from all the running. “Shit, come on!” He made a quick choice to run for the shelf, jumping over it.
Y/N hissed as she ran as quick as she could and over the same shelf, it soon being shot down. The impact of the bullets, the landing and her leg made her stumble once she got over. Staying on her hands and knees on the dirty floor for mere seconds before Five slung her arm over his shoulder. The masked people had both guns pointed at the kids until sirens started to wail outside the store.
They look to the windows and then back, the two where seemingly gone. They spoke before leaving, unknowing that the kids where hidden behind the main counter. Five held his doll tight with his free arm, the other one still wrapped around Y/N. The said girl was painfully tired now, her head lolling to lay on Five’s shoulder as her eyes tried to fight against her.
Five shrugged his shoulder. “Y/N, stay awake, okay? I’m gonna help you, alright? Just-just stay awake.” He sounded scared. He would never admit it, but he was. Five Hargreeves was scared. Scared for the apocalypse, that he won’t be able to stop it. Scared that the only person who has truly listened to him since he got back could be dying on his side right now.
Yeah. He was very scared.
:・゚✧:・.☽˚。・゚✧:・.:
Five had his arm slung over Y/N’s waist on their way back to their home. Y/N had fought to keep her eyes open from the blood loss, and surprisingly did the whole way back.
“Five? Y/N? What the hell happened to you?” Y/N perked up at the sound of her name. In front of her stood Allison and Luther, confused and shock written all over their faces. They both took a moment to examine the two kids. Blood covering parts of their clothing and droopy eyes.
 “Are you okay? Can we help?” Luther asked. His eyes drifted from Fives to Y/Ns as he saw the blood dripping from her leg. “What happened to Y/N?”
“Oh my God, Y/N!” Allison slightly yelled, her words bounced off Y/N’s brain loudly and she winced, scrunching her face is discomfort.
Luther reached his hand out to grab Y/N, but Five was quicker. His hand holding a firm grasp on Luther’s wrist and pulling the girl closer to him. “There's nothing you can do. There's nothing any of you can do.” 
:・゚✧:・.☽˚。・゚✧:・.:
Taglist: @venomsvl @dani5216 @mysticwitchcraftco @wifeofcamillamacaulay @anastas2904 @luvl3yt @ev-ems @sacrificialstars @annitrice-does-things
301 notes · View notes
80pairsofcrocs · 2 years
Text
good guy, bad guy
klaus : I really like this whole ‘good guy, bad guy’ thing you guys have going on.
five : It’s not an act, it’s just that I’m mean and y/n isn’t
1K notes · View notes
cas-backwards-tie · 10 months
Text
Just Like Me Masterlist
Five Hargreeves x Sparrow!Samantha
Tumblr media
Summary: Practically ostracized from the Sparrow Academy due to the 'Ice Cube Incident', you're more than eager to solve the mystery at foot when the Umbrella Academy shows up. Will your family praise you for taking initiative on the case, or will they continue to go over your head with their own plans as a team?
Warnings: Cursing, Violence, Anxiety, Insecurity, Angst, Complicated Family Relationships, Degradation, Fighting, Injuries, Insults, Name-Calling, Kidnapping, Manhandling, Threats, Underage Drinking, Alcohol, Inference to Sexual Assault (nothing happens),
A/N: Samantha is my OC. Attributes scarcely described and written in more of a reader style, however, her backstory will be revealed throughout the series. There are moments when they use her name, but for the most part I try to avoid it.
Tumblr media
Chapters: The Intrusion | The Hostage | Face To Face | Mission Awry
28 notes · View notes
Text
Soft Spot
Five Hargreeves x child!reader
☆= Five shows a gentle side as gn!child!reader appears all bruised up
Warnings: mentions of bad guys, violence
Genre: fluff, comfort
Masterlist
Tumblr media
Trying to save the world from the apocalypse, Five didn’t had time for this. Not at all. After all he didn’t expect you to appear out of nowhere, you weren’t even supposed to be in this timeline. Naturally he wasn’t too pleased, when the 4-year-old you, was suddenly behind him as he was walking back home. Your little knees scraped and bloody, as a few small bruises were showing up across your arms and one slightly bigger one on your face. An awful looking cut right across your left cheek. Five was disturbed at that sight, who wouldn’t be.
Sure, he was annoyed, but took you in without hesitation. So now you were sitting on the bar counter in the living room, sniffing as Five started to clean your wounds. “How did you even manage to do all this Y/N? You look like you got beaten up.” He didn’t expect an answer, you were to busy wiping away your tears while looking around. This place was big, huge even for you and there was so much to explore! You tug at his jacket. “Can we play?”
He stops in his tracks, looking up at you, confused. “Can you even walk? Y/N”, he sighs, “you are hurt. We cannot play like this.” Trying to seriously argue with a 4-year-old seemed ridiculous the moment he did it. Especially because he knew you and your character. Knew exactly how much of an adventurer you were and that nothing could stop you. But right now, he was way too worried. How come you like you’ve been through hell? And why are you not telling him what happened? You used to share everything with him.
“Y/N? Sweetheart?” You look at him, a clear scowl visible on your face. “No.” Five looks at you in slight shock for a second but catches himself quickly. “Now, not that attitude.”, he softly tickles your side, “I just need to know something. If you tell me, I will get some really delicious ice cream in your favorite flavor.”
Five couldn’t hold in the laugh as your eyes widen and a smile breaks out on your face. Adorable, he thought. “So, I need to know, dear, did some bad guys give you those?” He pointed on your bruises and knees. You bit the inside of your cheek. Pondering in your little head, if you really should tell him.
“Well”, you begin, looking around the room to avoid his gaze at you “I hurt my knees when I was playing! But-“, Five waited patiently for you to finish. “Some bad guys were after me and my brother, but that’s already okay! All gone now!”
The Umbrella Academy member didn’t know if he should feel shocked or rather relieved, but no matter what, it was important that he takes care of you until someone would get you. “Okay, okay, lets get you some ice cream and then we play.” “You will play the pretty princess, Five!” “What-“
A few hours later his siblings came back to a truly adorable sight. Klaus had taken a picture right away. You snuggled up in Fives arms, as a small crown was still on the boy’s head. The pink feather boa that was laying around earlier, was also draped around his shoulders, while both of you are fast asleep. It was clear to everyone, you were Five’s soft spot.
294 notes · View notes
kaybreezy3000 · 3 months
Text
Bad Things (Five Hargreeves/Reader)
Tumblr media
~Psychopathy is a neuropsychiatric disorder marked by deficient emotional responses, lack of empathy, the inability to distinguish between right and wrong, poor behavioral controls, and behaviors that contradict social norms which then commonly result in persistent antisocial deviance and criminal behavior.
Enter, Five Hargreeves, everyone's favorite little psycho.
(Chapter Three Post)
---If you need to go back to read the summary and the first two chapters first, hit the link below. Chapter 4 through seven will be added soon...
Link to Chapters 1-2
Warnings and tags: Mental disintegration, psychological trauma, effects of isolation, masturbation, non-consensual voyeurism, explicit sexual content, bondage, POV altering, touch starved, obsessive behavior, inanimate object love, and many other sexually deviant themes all mixed with a lovely twist that you will hopefully enjoy...
---In this chapter, we start the POV switches, and they will be made clearer by large page breaks in-between.
Chapter Three: Creep
Running through his options, Five makes the quick determination that after what he just did, he can’t stay here. He needs to get the girl back inside her apartment, then he will get Dolores and together they will run.
Thanks to his fake ID, nobody knows who he really is, but as soon as the girl can, she’s going to call the police and have them search the apartments across from hers. His family will figure out what he’s been doing, and Five can already hear them going on and on about how disgusting he is.
Everyone already thinks he is a psycho, and this further proves it. His siblings may not throw him under the bus because doing so would obviously tie him to them, but it’s still possible that someone could figure out that the once famous missing boy Number Five Hargreeves is not dead like the world thought and he is not at all the person he was before he disappeared.
The possibility of the whole world knowing about the monster he has become is only adding to the heartbreak that the people he has cared about and fought for his entire life will hate him more than they already do. All this has Five questioning everything. 
They were all he lived for, and he lost them, and now this.
“You really screwed yourself this time you sick asshole,” Five angrily curses as he starts hauling the unconscious girl across the parking lot towards her building.
As if all that isn’t bad enough, Five realizes that he just ensured himself a lifetime of running from the law. This means no more trying to pretend to be a part of something he’s not, but it also means that he will have no other option but to resort to other, much less legal means of surviving.
He failed at life again and there’s a big part of him that just wants to throw in the towel and let them lock him away. But the same part of him that wouldn’t give up for the last sixty years is still there in the back of his mind screaming at him to keep fighting.
Committed to his plan, Five is about to start crossing the short distance to the girl’s building when a man in a janitorial uniform comes out the back door. Being taken off guard by his sudden appearance, Five inelegantly drops to his knees behind a parked car with the girl folding down with him on the dirty cement.
As the man crosses the lot, Five does his best to calm his heavy breaths to a more manageable level. He hasn’t had the chance to let his racing heart slow down since his extremely drunk sprint down the stairs.
Not being his usual stealthy, in control self and not being able to easily blink himself out of this situation is enough to make Five’s mounting panic much worse. The fact that he just heard the door electronically lock after the guy closed it isn’t helping either. It didn’t even occur to him that her building might need an entrance code.
“God, damnit!” he quietly hisses.
He could slip in behind someone, but that’s not likely at this hour, and not with the girl passed out in his arms. Hitting random buttons in the hopes that someone will buzz him in will get the police called or it will wake the whole building, so that’s a big fat no.
As the other man pulls out of the lot, Five makes a split-second decision based on his most recent plan being blown all to hell. He does not want to leave the girl outside lying on the ground, especially in this neighborhood. He’ll have to leave her in his apartment. He’s screwed one way or the other. It really doesn’t matter where he puts her as long as it is safe. He’ll grab only what he has to, and he’ll be gone before she fully comes to.
Five pushes his back against the car, using it to help balance him as he gets them both upright again. Then swooping the girl up in his arms, the alcohol gets the best of him and Five accidentally stumbles backwards into the car before moving forward towards his own building.
“I am never drinking again,” he declares, weaving with each step he takes. Five is trying so hard to push past how dizzy he feels, but drunk is drunk and it’s getting worse.
After the girl blew him off tonight, Five had the grand plan of passing out in a super sloshed stupor. The whiskey he tried to drown his sorrows in is catching up with him by this point and he’s realizing that finishing the whole bottle was just one more bad decision to add to the many others he’s made tonight.
When Five opens the lower-level door to his complex, he can see that no one is in the shabby hallway that leads to the elevator, and it seems like his shitty luck is changing because the thing is working, and it’s already on the ground floor. 
There’s no way he would have made it up the stairs at this point. Heavy feet scuffing along across the worn tiles, Five moves inside, throwing his elbow against the button for the seventh floor.
As soon as the doors close, he woozily drops his weight back on the wall, and sets the girl down, keeping one arm around the girl’s waist to hold her upright and the other angled across her chest to keep her from tipping forward.
Five can hardly grasp how quickly he just fucked everything up. A few minutes ago, he was in the throes of personal passion, about to blow his load all over his costly dress pants, and the next he sealed the deal that he was completely ruining his already ruined life.
Five is being consumed by his deeply depressing thoughts about himself as the old elevator doors close and it groans to life. The girl’s flowery smelling hair is rubbing up against the side of his cheek, and he can feel the heat of her body pressing back against him in a very tormenting way considering his self-self-absorbed cock brain hasn’t caught up to speed yet that he is not sitting there in his kitchen with his hand on his dick about to destroy his own lap with jizz.
His partial erection from that sad whack fest is wedged right between this girl’s warm cheeks, and it’s just like he was imagining positioning himself on her Monday night. 
Now that Five has the girl’s body pressed up next to his while he’s holding her in what many would think looks like it’s a very loving embrace, the truth that he has actually been violating her by watching her and getting his rocks off is impossible to ignore. 
You can’t imagine something if it’s right in front of you physically touching you. The entire fantasy he’s been creating in his head just completely disintegrated.
Now things just got very real and it’s not in a good way.
“I am so sorry I am doing this to you,” he hotly breathes, his forehead falling even more against the girl’s shoulder as he forces down the growing sickness in his stomach.
With extreme sadness, Five thinks about the trauma he just inflicted on this girl. Five knows trauma and his own experiences with it is what resulted in him being unable to put himself out there to have anything worthwhile in his life. 
He had wanted nothing more than to know what it was like to passionately hold someone he cared about and who also cared about him, but the horror of how it’s happening right now is unbelievable. It seems like this must be happening to someone else. 
Five is so tormented by all this, and intoxicated, that he doesn’t realize he hasn’t been holding any pressure on the girls’ neck since he carried her inside. Her knuckles make unexpected contact, hitting the bridge of his nose. Five eyes instantaneously pinch shut to the intense sensation of shooting pain that makes everything in his face burn and his eyes flood with tears.
The girl’s furious screech reverberates inside the elevator. “Get off me!”
Taking Five’s momentary inability to function, her other arm wiggles free from the arm he has around her waist. She pulls away, maneuvering her fist back and down at the same time, nailing him right between the legs.
“Ff-ah-ckkk!” 
Five’s sudden high pitch yelp comes out just as loud as the girl’s cry, but unlike her, his verbal alarm ends in a very hushed groan followed by a whisper of a wheeze as he frantically fights not to double over and also maintain his hold on the back of her sweater.
Five gags down his vomit that is threatening to make this even worse, and while he is immersed in the sensations of pure agony, she comes at him again. 
Somehow, Five manages to move his head back just in time, narrowly avoiding another jab to the face. Her hand hits his upper sternum instead and just as fast, her fingers find their way around his silk tie, yanking his head forward with it.
Five instinctively retaliates by violently twisting his arm around her neck.
“St-ooo-ppp,” he splutters as they choke each other.
“Let go!” she piercingly shrieks before she’s completely deprived of the air to do so.
Dropping her weight as her fingers dig at Five’s arm doesn’t have the desired effect of getting him to let go, so she digs her heels into the floor plowing backwards instead. 
Her reverse attack makes Five’s dress shoes slip out from under him on the grimy floor. The impact of Five’s head as it swings back into the metal wall makes a cracking sound that leaves the wall vibrating.
Totally in shock and seeing the brilliant scattering of stars filling his vision, Five’s free arm swings out, searching for the railing behind him, but he misses. He starts to lose consciousness. All at once, his full body weight is hanging on the girl’s neck as darkness begins swallowing up his remaining vision.
The girl lets out a helpless sounding whimper as they start to fall. 
Beyond faint and feeling equally helpless, Five inadvertently squeezes his arm tighter, using the girl to pull himself upright again. To his relief, her fingers suddenly release the sleeve of his dress shirt and her arms flop down limply at her sides.
DING!
At the same time the doors rumble open, the girl’s legs give out and Five almost drops her.
Unable to think let alone function like he normally would, Five hoists her back up then unsteadily stumbles out of the elevator with the girl’s feet dragging between his legs.
Light-headedly glancing both ways, he is beyond grateful that no one is out there looking to see what all yelling was about. 
Beaten and bloodied, Five makes it inside his own door a few seconds later and his first move is getting them both over to the bed because he still feels like he may fall flat on his face.
Five hastily drops the girl down next to Dolores, then he moves towards his kitchen, swaying as he navigates the short distance. 
After getting the shit beat out of him, he is quickly processing the fact that he needs to adjust his original plan to drop her and go. He is going to need to shake at least some of his drunken and concussed brain fog before he can walk even remotely straight. If he doesn’t, he may pass out in the street or his own hallway with his face smacked down in a pile of his own puke.
The idea of the cops finding him like that, with the addition of Dolores lying next to him, is enough to push along Five’s new approach to make this all still work out in both their favor. The most important thing he figures right now is that he needs to keep this girl quiet for a little while before he is functioning enough to leave.
Five throws open the utility cabinet, his unfocused eyes landing on the hook with the wound-up nylon rope hanging on it. The apartment’s previous other weirdo occupant had left many things behind, but unlike the loads of old stuffed animals, this was one thing that Five didn’t throw away being it had many practical uses. In this case, tying someone up.
“They are right, you are a psycho,” Five mutters to himself as he digs around finding nothing else useful.
Next, opening the first drawer next to the refrigerator, he grabs his switchblade and his revolver. It had been Five’s norm to always carry both these weapons, but he stopped when he figured out that there were no field operatives from The Commission coming after him in this new world because there was no more Commission.
Klaus was right, he thinks. He was better when he had an evil taskmaster to keep him in line.
Staggering a little as he turns around, he sets the gun on the kitchen table and tucks the knife into the waistband of his pants. Next, making it back over to the bed with what he figures will be enough to keep the girl safely detained till he is more composed, Five is surprised to see that she isn’t waking up yet.
He says her name.
Nothing.
Five throws the rope on the bed, then picks up her wrist, checking her pulse. He doesn’t feel one, so his trembling fingers move to her neck, pressing against her throat instead. The girl doesn’t react to him touching her, and Five still can’t feel anything.
“Oh, no, no, NO, NO !” He says the girl’s name a few more times, and again he gets nothing. “Dolores, I didn’t mean to- Shit, shit, fucking SHIT!"
Feeling like he’s losing what’s left of his mind, Five doesn’t know what to say, and even though Dolores is right there, she doesn’t respond to his terrified ramblings.
Even though his mind is spinning out of control, Five’s years of training kick in. He jumps on the bed, rolling the girl on her side. Then he lifts her chin, putting her in the recovery position that you are supposed to do for someone when trying to revive them after being fully choked out. The maneuver makes the girl’s mouth fall open and Five checks to make sure that her airway is not blocked, or that her own tongue didn’t slip back in her throat.
Everything is normal. She should be able to breathe, but for some reason she is not, and she is not waking up.
Kneeling over her, one hand on her back, Five starts rubbing. “Come on, breathe! You’re strong, you just showed me how strong you are. Breathe damn it!”
He knows very well how this works, and giving her CPR will do nothing because this is not happening to her because of cardiac arrest.
Lifting her legs so that more blood moves to her brain is not that effective at helping to revive someone in this condition, and it’s sure as hell not going to work if she’s already gone. Five could stand her on her head and no amount of blood running to her brain will bring her back if she is dead.
“Come on! NO! You can’t die!” he angrily pleads, even as both his hands keep at it, one now methodically trying to massage life into her cold legs.
Counting the minutes in his head, Five can’t really say how long he would have been squeezing tight enough to fully deprive her of oxygen. He knows that all it takes is a matter of a minute like that and someone can face permanent brain damage or death. 
They were in the parking lot for only a minute or so after she swung the bat at him. He knows he let up on her throat enough during that time because she woke up a little when they were crouched behind that car. She was moving in his lap, and he heard soft moaning sounds coming out of her. Then as soon as the car pulled out of the lot, he carried her in, not choking her at all.
In the elevator, he fucked-up big time and he let her wake up completely. Five is sure that she was never completely out more than twice and for no more than about thirty seconds at a time. 
Right?
From where Five has himself positioned next to the girl, one of his knees is pressing against Dolores’s hip and with glistening eyes he looks from the girl to her. 
“I didn’t mean to do this,” he insists.
Again, Dolores says nothing to calm Five or reassure him like she normally would. His watery eyes plead with her, but he gets nothing.
“Oh my God, thank you,” Five cries, with his head swinging back to the girl. His hand on her back slowly begins to rise and fall as she comes back to life. “That’s it. Keep breathing, it’s going to be okay.”
The girl slowly begins to move her legs and Five puts his hands under her side, sliding her small body up closer to the headboard. She makes a small sound of complaint at being handled, but he still needs to restrain her hands, or she’ll be trying to fight him again the second she’s aware of what is happening.
Mechanically, Five flips open his long switchblade so he can quickly cut the correct lengths of rope with it. Then just as fast, he makes tight loops around both of her wrists. Seeing that he’s at least not totally fucking that up that lesson he learned over and over as a child, and that her arms are snuggly secured above her head to his headboard, he risks looking over at Dolores again.
“I think she’s okay. I know how this looks, but you know that I didn’t mean to do this. I was never going to go near her. It was only supposed to be just me waahh-"
Five can’t finish that one, and that is because saying that it was only supposed to be him watching the girl doesn’t make it okay. None of this is okay. His eyelids lower and he rubs the area between his eyes.
“Please talk to me, sweetheart. I don’t know what to do. I think something is very, very wrong with me. I need you,” he pleads, winching in pain as the trickle of blood from his nose continues to drip down over his upper lip.
Five gets nothing back, and right now, he needs his trusted voice of reason more than ever. In his head, he can only imagine that Dolores is not acknowledging him because she is questioning why he is tying this poor girl up like this if he supposedly didn’t mean to do this. 
To him, she is probably thinking that he is going to hurt her even more than he already has and that makes Five spiral even worse.
“Please don’t hate me. The only reason she’s tied up is because I need to stay here long enough to make sure she’s going to make it, and I can’t leave like this. I need time to clean up,” he tries to explain. “I will get us out of here. We can start over,” he promises. 
His blurring eyes dart from Dolores to the girl, then back again.
With tears starting to run down his face, Five gasps out a devastated sob, “Dolores, I need help. Please, talk to me!” Again, she doesn’t react, and his reddened eyes fearfully widen. “Dolores!” The quiver in his voice matches the quiver in his bloodied hands.
Nothing.
Five just drug in the near lifeless body of the very real girl from across the alley, placing her in the bed next to his beloved. Now, having them both laying there opposite each other, all he can see in the mannequin’s normally devoted expression of limitless acceptance is the actual lifeless object she is. 
Just like in the elevator with the girl right there with him, now Five is finding that he can’t pretend anymore.
Dolores’s face stares out blankly, the matte finished paint of her sky-blue eyes will not meet his. 
In Five’s entire time with her, this has never happened.
As Five moves himself down the girl’s legs, snaking the nylon around her ankles, he does so with the shock of knowing that Dolores finally left him.
Now he really has nothing to live for.
Tumblr media
Feeling totally out of it, liquid dribbles from your slack mouth. You feel the softest tickle as the hair that’s stuck to your cheek pulls away.
“Wha thhh-ah," you start to mumble, but you are so groggy that at first you can’t even complete a thought let alone string two measly words together.
It feels like you are in bed, but you don’t remember going to bed.
In your jumbled thoughts, you recall going on a blind date with a guy from a stupid dating website. That obviously turned out to be a very bad decision. You should have known this guy was bad news when he showed up early and he somehow snuck inside your building instead waiting down in the parking lot. 
At the end of the night, the douche monger insisted on walking you to your door, and then he really upped his creep factor when he jumped on you.
You remember feeling extremely unhinged and completely repulsed by what he did. As such, you figured that it was a excellent idea to educate the prick on what would happen if he ever tried that date rape shit on anyone again.
As this all comes back to you, your eyes start to flutter open, but the room is dim, and your vision is badly distorted. 
More liquid slips inside your parted lips.
“Please, wake up,” the softest male voice worriedly whispers.
Hearing that, you immediately try to move, but like the voice, everything feels wrong. It feels like your arms and legs aren’t working right.
You feel a warm hand on your back slowly moving back and forth.
That’s when you remember that strange man in the parking lot.
“No,” you croak out, as you remember the unmistakable shape of his firm manhood pressing up against your ass as he cut off your air supply with the constriction of his arm around your already bruised throat.
It feels like something is still wrapped around your neck but whatever it is, it’s not painful and tight, it’s cold.
This doesn’t make sense.
Your mouth quickly shuts, your eyes flying open, as you try to sit up. Adding to your horror, you find that you can’t. Your arms flex and pull but they won’t give in to your request. Your chest and bottom rise off the bed only to immediately get pulled back down.
As your vision clears, you realize that someone is sitting next to you. 
Dark hair dangles over pale green colored eyes. 
The expression on his face is empty, not at all the way it was when you first laid eyes on it. Then, this lunatic appeared harmless. He even looked greatly concerned for your well-being. His eyes were conveying such open sorrow that it threw you off enough to let him approach.
He was acting like he knew you. He called you by name.
You open your mouth to scream but he quickly covers the sound with a thick fold of fabric that a second ago must have been around the cold pack that is now on his lap. His eyes narrow as his hand firmly presses the towel against your face.
As air wheezes through your partially blocked nose, he says, “Don’t. Do. That. Again.”
Every word out of his mouth is filled with warning.
Even if you weren’t already completely scared stiff, just the look in his eyes has the sound of your own blood thrumming in your ears and your heart feeling like it’s going to burst out of your chest.  
This can’t be the same voice you just heard speaking so compassionately.
Looking for help, your eyes try to take in the room behind him, but you don’t see anyone else.
Angling your chin backwards, you see someone illuminated by the small bedside lamp, but your own eyes grow even wider when you realize that the woman lying there next to you is not alive.
It’s an old, full body mannequin like you would normally see at a dump or in a second-hand clothing store.
You try to scream again but he pushes his hand down harder, completely muffling it.
“I said, DON’T!” he growls as you yank at the ropes binding your wrists. They won’t budge and that’s because you are tied to a very heavy-looking wooden headboard. 
Trying to move your legs again, you realize that each ankle is tied much like your hands, then fastened by extended lines of rope to opposite bed posts at the foot of the bed.
It dawns on you that this is his bed.
This perverted asshole saw what your douchebag date did to you. He has been watching you for who knows how long, and now he has abducted you. Your legs are spread wide, and your skirt is pushed up so high from your floundering that you know he can see right under it from where he’s sitting.
You can’t believe this is happening, but it is.
Again, you remember feeling this fucker pressing himself on you. He was hard.
This guy was turned on by squeezing the life out of you, and he has a plastic woman in his bed!
Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!
This is so bad.
As you mentally lose your shit, his eyes never leave yours. One of his thighs is pressing against your side and he’s still holding the bottle he must have been feeding you with, but from the way he is sitting at the edge of the bed, you can’t tell if he is still aroused.
You want to scream at him to let you go but you can do nothing. You are entirely at his mercy.
The only reasons you can come up with for why he is doing this aren’t good, but you force yourself not to go there. You have to focus.
Since he’s not actually touching, touching you yet, you try to concentrate on the rest of your surroundings, looking for some way out of this.
There is an old looking electric stove in a small kitchen area across the room, with an equally old looking refrigerator next to it. A small beat-up looking table sits under one of the only two windows and it has an empty liquor bottle on it and something black that looks like a revolver of some kind.
Great.
You remember smelling the strong scent of booze on his breath in the elevator. He is clearly shit faced. Your eyes flit back to his. He hasn’t moved at all.
Oh my God, you are going to die.
Looking out again, you see that in front of the bed, there’s a very battered looking recliner. Other than the basics, there is nothing someone would have that would give signs that they lived there. There are no pictures on the walls. No TV, no shelves full of personal belongings. Next to the recliner, on the floor, you can just make out that there is a stack of books, but that is it.
You see what must be the door to get out, and one that is narrower and has slatted vents in it, meaning it’s a closet. Behind you, when you tilted your head back to look at what was holding you from moving your arms, you saw what appeared to be a tiny bathroom.
At first glance, you see nothing that can help you. It’s just some psycho guy’s shitty shoe box sized apartment.
His indifferent reaction as you look around his home is jarring. The flawlessly smooth skin on his face gives the impression of youthful innocence, but what he’s doing proves he is far from it.
You’re betting this fancy dressing Ted Bundy has got piles of bodies under his bed and body parts galore in his freezer. Now you see it; he’s totally the type!
SHIT!
His expensive looking three-piece suit didn’t make sense in this neighborhood. Now splatters of blood stain the sleeves of his white dress shirt. He clearly used the cuffs to wipe his nose based on the numerous red smears. 
You wish so badly that you’d hit him hard enough to break his whole stupid face.
You risk looking at more of him, and you see that he is missing the tie he had on before, and you can only assume that is because the first chance you had, you latched on to it and tried to strangle him with it.
He is clearly not taking any chances of that happening again.
Uselessly trying to wriggle away from him, your arms pull down on the ropes and the heels of your bare feet slide across his rumpled bedding.
He took off your shoes!
Your stomach sickens with the realization that he has already been touching you when you were unconscious. 
Again, you notice how high your skirt is, but he isn’t looking there, his cold eyes remain fixed on yours.
You can’t help it when you scream under his hand, but that only makes him even more scary looking. His features contort ominously.
“This is not what I wanted. I-” He suddenly pauses, a line forms between his eyes as they run over your face, down your body and back up again. “You never should have lifted that bat.”
You try to tell him that you don’t care what he wants or that he didn’t want his head bashed in, but your words are totally stifled by the persistent pressure of his hand.
“You kept fighting me. I had no choice but to do what I did,” he scolds, like this is your fault rather than his.
He reaches over to the bedside table, setting the bottle of water down, then he picks up another length of rope off of it. The moment he removes his hand from your mouth, he forces your lips apart, jabbing the cloth inside. His other hand is already behind your head, pushing it forward as he works the rope between your lips.
As he ties the ends at the nape of your neck you realize it’s to keep the gag in. Your mouth is so full of fabric that not even the roaring animalist growls coming out of you are even remotely loud enough to get anyone’s attention.
Your teeth bare down on the nylon fibers as you glare at him in blind hatred.
Eyes darting away from yours, he slowly starts to sit up, but he abruptly stops when you let out a pathetic mewing sound. Those green eyes of his give the faintest hint of something as he watches the burning hot tears rolling back into your hairline.
His hand comes up brushing his dark chocolate colored hair out of his eyes before tucking it behind his ears. His eyes close so sluggishly it is like it pains him to take in the very deep breaths he is all of a sudden taking. 
The heavy fringe of his lashes sweeps his cheeks covering the dark hued skin under his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, but the faint bruising that is starting to form is also from when you hit him, and it only seems to be showing at all because of how fair his skin is.
First, sexual assault and now you are finishing your fabulous Friday night off being this crazy prick’s new and improved sex doll. 
Is this really going to be your final fate? Live a subpar existence scratching to get by, working meaningless jobs to pay the rent, then die because some crazy asshole across the alley from you decided to remove you from the world for his own sick satisfaction?
You would laugh at your ridiculously bad luck if you weren’t crying and if you could actually laugh.
He’s going to kill you. There’s no other way out of this.
“Just let me go,” you beg him. It comes out of you, but with hardly any sound though saying it makes his eyes dart back to yours anyway.
His face is one of those that you’ve seen that can express the most heart wrenching emotion if he lets it. Right now, it seems it’s more of failing to hide it than intentionally showing that he’s not as cold as he is pretending to be. 
His prominent jaw line seems even more dramatic as you notice him clenching his teeth. It makes the dimple on his cheek stand out even more. He looks so sad, and that reaction is baffling because a moment before he looked like he felt nothing and didn’t even have the tiniest amount of remorse or humanity in him.
You swear you see his hand closest to you trembling.
That has to mean something.
You try to plead with him again, but hearing it, he steels his expression to nothingness again, he stands, preparing to walk away from you.
Christ! Even crazy vagrants on the street don’t have the gift to emotionally turn off and on as quickly as this guy can, and that’s no matter how long gone their minds are.
If you could just get through to him somehow, then maybe you’d have a chance, but how can you do that if he is mentally all over the place.
As he moves, you can see his entire body more clearly. He has straight shoulders, but he is hunching them forward in an odd way that doesn’t match his young age. His chin is angled down to the floor like he simply can’t stand looking at anything else.
His trim waist is defined even more by his tailored vest. He’s one of those guys who has that V-shaped torso that comes from having zero body fat. He’s all lean muscle and bone. Add the fitted black dress pants enhancing the slim look of him and you’d think he’s nobody to worry about, but you know already that he is not weak. Under this misleading appearance is hiding the very dangerous man that just took you.
Your eyes follow his every move as he travels over to the other side of the bed. Again, you swear you see the look of pure agony in his face as he lifts the mannequin and sets her down a few feet away over by the window on what has to be a stand because the thing is standing there dressed all pretty like she belongs in a 90's department store not this freak job’s apartment.
He goes ghostly still with one of his hands resting on the form of its narrow waist.
You hear him softly talking to it and it’s almost exactly the way you heard him speaking when you were coming to.
“Dolores, please… I love you,” he pleads. He is looking at the dummy like he is expecting it to answer him.
When you look to the window beyond him over there having this extremely bizarre moment with his plastic girlfriend, you see the flowers dangling from your own flower box blowing in the wind.
He was right across from you the whole time.
You look over again at the single chair pulled up at the small table next to the window. You can just imagine him sitting there in the dark, finishing off that bottle, watching you.
Being an opportunistic perv that gets turned on by peeping on others is one thing, but this guy was getting off by watching you get attacked and he was clearly also turned on by attacking you.
He’s a sexual sadist and while he rapes you, he is going to do his best to make you suffer even more!
Animalistic sounds of pure desperation erupt from your chest, and they get even louder when he abruptly turns away from his one-sided conversation with the mannequin and comes back towards the bed.
You see his expression change to something fierce and dangerous. His entire body seems to thrum like a bowstring drawn taut. You can almost feel the carefully restrained violence about to explode all over you.
His gaze is so intense that your whole body shudders and his voice comes out so achingly low that he sounds like a different person. “If you have already done the worst things a human could do, would it matter if you sealed it that the devil owns you?”
You do not like where this is going. You shake your head side to side, denying him. You refuse to draw the parallels he is trying to make in justifying what he’s going to do.
“I lost everything. There is no point in fighting anymore,” he whispers.
Even though you don’t want to give them to him, tears trickle down your cheeks again. Seeing them, the faintest trace of a sound comes from somewhere deep inside his chest.
There is something. Something inside all that coldness. He looks sad. You are the one tied to his bed, and he looks sad…
What?
After another minute of him seeming to consider something, he begins to hungrily study you, or at least it appears that way to you in that slow, languid way his eyes roamed over your body. When they hover over your chest, your breath hitches, and you think you hear his hitch too.
“Go fuck yourself, asshole!” you frantically cry, adding every curse word you know and even adding some new ones specially invented just for him. It comes out garbled, but you are sure he is getting the gist.
He reaches for the bottle of water on the nightstand, his eyes roll back in his head, and he almost falls down as he proceeds to pound it. 
After stumbling and then tossing the empty bottle on the floor, he moves across the bed, crawling on hands and knees towards you. The mattress sags beneath his weight as he bends down on top of you.
His weight hovers over you, and your fingers curl into fists. Your arms pulled down but to no avail. 
Reactively, when his hand comes towards your face, you pull back as much as you can. He stops for a second, dark brows furrowing like he doesn’t understand your reaction. 
“Sweetheart, no, please. You know I'd never hurt you,” he slurs, then his long fingers gently run across your skin to wipe your tears away. 
You shudder. 
He still has that look. You know it even though you don’t know him. It’s the look of misery.
He brushes your tangled hair back and the frown on his face deepens. Those pale cheeks of his suddenly flush with…
Arousal? Shame? Murderous rage? You have no idea until you look between your bodies, and you see that his crotch region is definitely tenting in a way it wasn't a few minutes ago. 
Very slowly, he traces the bruises your date left on your neck with a finger. The sensation makes you shiver in fear, and you see him shiver too. You are sure he’s about to lower himself on you but then he rolls off, staggers to the bathroom, and then slams the door behind him.
Tumblr media
Entering his bathroom, Five’s body falls forward over the small counter. He clings to the edge holding himself steady, while hoping he will be able to think clearer now that he is away from the girl.
Five is completely overwhelmed with unimaginable levels of sorrow and gross intoxication, but the worst of it is the very demanding reaction his body is having over seeing the girl laying under him on his bed. As bad of shape as he is in, Five can’t even link together any coherent thoughts other than that when he looked at the girl, he was seeing Dolores.
“Dolores, no,” he breathlessly cries in pure unfiltered agony over the gut-wrenching loss he feels.
Wanting to stop the pain and unable to operate on anything but pure brainless need, rather than hurt the girl because he has completely lost his mind, Five desperately begins to hurt himself.
He lowers his head even more, panting out panicked gasps for air as one of his trembling hands starts to rub the front of his pants.
“Please. Fuck. Help me,” he moans, meaning much more than the words can convey as his other hand fumbles to get his zipper down. 
Once he has himself free, Five is quick to start jerking himself with an intensity and cruelty that only makes his head spin even more than it already is. 
“Nahhhh-nnnn-” His instant moans of pleasure are followed by the top of his head accidentally banging up against the oval mirror hanging above the sink.  
Pumping his hips, Five rams the hand he is using to grope his tight balls, jamming it abusively right up against the edge of the counter. His angry touches feel so damn good despite the punishment that the combination only makes him moan even louder.
His knees bang over and over against the cabinet as he finds every way possible to inflict pain on himself while also giving in to that heady desire trying to consume him.
Five winces as his knuckles begin to split after making contact too many times with the hard surface, but he doesn’t stop doing it. He wants this sweet torture to drown out the rest of his unbearable suffering. 
Hair falling in his eyes and his skin feeling like it’s on fire, Five’s other hand continues taking care of the rest of his shaft. His fingers are circled around the end of the hard length, and they are moving up and down so fast that when he peers down at himself, all he sees is a violent blur.
“Yessssssss!”
Mouth hanging open, Five’s come begins to spurt out of him. The near iridescence of his release is somewhere between a milky white and a purely clear watery fluid, allowing it to blend in almost seamlessly into the fake chalky colored marble of his chipped counter. With a dazed expression, Five’s body twitches repeatedly as he watches it drip down into the bowl of his sink. 
As the waves of ecstasy all too quickly abandon him, Five’s bloodshot eyes turn up to the monster in the mirror. 
All at once, his fist slams into the face staring back at him. The glass shatters, raining down sharp blades of Five’s reflection, scattering his hatred at his feet and all over the counter.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
As if what just happened when he was suspending his body over you isn't appalling enough, the sounds coming from the bathroom are making you really lose your mind. You yank at your constraints hard enough to make your quickly abrading skin begin to bleed.
It's very clear what he is doing in there; you don't need to see him to know that he took your advice and is actively fucking himself. The only good thing about this is that he is not trying to fuck you and he is in there and you are out here.
When the sound of glass breaking and things hitting the floor abruptly comes after a another one of his guttural groans, you are pulling so hard on the headboard to break free that it's banging against the wall behind it.
Not more than a minute later, the bathroom door swings open and he's back at the side of the bed looking down at you with those empty eyes. 
“I need you to be quiet a little longer." His words don't sound mad or even scary even though he just busted you trying to break free. He sounds very meek but that makes sense considering what he did in there.
You can't help your eyes from moving right from his to his fly, and sure enough, Mr. Psycho's Mr. Happy seems to be momentarily tamed.
Just when you are thinking you might be safe, he shifts himself over on the mattress where the mannequin was.
Just the act of laying down looks like it hurts him. His moist looking eyes open and shut like he can hardly hold them open as he lets out a very pained moan that makes him sound like a child that needs his mommy very badly.
You can see his hand is freshly bleeding but not bad. He doesn't even seem to notice.
“I am going to let you go. I just need to clear my head for a few minutes, and I am cutting you loose and leaving. This will all be over soon,” he hushes when the bed moves from you trying to wriggle away from him.
As he settles into the blankets and his eyes droop closed, his black vest pulls up as he stretches out and you immediately notice that he has some kind of knife tucked under his waistband. 
After a minute or two of laying like that, eyes closed still, he rolls over and his arm flops down over your chest, his hand landing way to close to your neck again. You try to shake him off, but you have nowhere to go, and he remains as is. 
This guy can say what he wants about letting you go, but him lying next to you, hand on your throat, with this fuck mannequin watching him resting up enough so that he can brutally rape you doesn’t have you feeling any less terrified. 
The only reason you are not screaming anymore is because you don’t want to set him off now that he is this close.
Less than a minute later of you laying there thinking this is it, his chin slides down the arm he has folded under his head, and as it happens, the choppy looking fringe of his hair falls over his face.
Holy shit… You cannot believe it, but he just passed out. 
His heavy breathing immediately starts to relax.
Whether he was lying or not when he said he wasn’t going to hurt you and that he was also going to let you go, you have no idea, but it doesn’t matter. Seeing your chance, your arms begin pulling again. You twist and torque your wrists, working the ropes.
The sound of loud vibration startles you and you go stark still, your eyes darting to the kitchen table as your heartrate flies through the roof. 
You can’t be sure, because it’s so dark, but you think there is a cell phone lying there next to the gun. Just as you start to wriggle your wrists again, the phone vibrates again and at the same time, he lets out an annoyed sounding grumble. “Leave me alone, Klaus.”
Klaus?
The third time the phone buzzes, his upper leg moves over, locking down over one of yours.
You close your eyes, willing your mind to take you anywhere but here.
Stupid phone and fuck you Klaus person whoever you are.
“Don’t wake up the psycho, I am about to shiv his ass! ” your mind yells at the offending electronic device.
Not long later, the hand at your throat begins to move away, but as it retreats, your crazy cuddle buddy snuggles his body even closer to yours. This new intrusion on your personal space seems to make him happy enough at first, but then all of a sudden, he must decide that he is not warm enough. He reaches back and flips the bed spread over you both and in doing so, the cuff on his right arm pulls up and something catches your eye.
He has a tattoo on the underside of his wrist. It’s the silhouette of a black umbrella with a circle around it.
What the hell?
You’ve seen that symbol before. You were a little too young when the superhero kids that belonged to the infamous money mogul Sir Reginal Hargreeves were all the rage, but you have heard of them. They all supposedly disbanded when they came of age, and from what you remember hearing, one or two may have even died before that.
They all were born with different unimaginable powers and were often seen in public as children stepping in here or there during major emergencies to show off their extraordinary skills. 
You’ve seen old posters with them, but none of their faces are coming back to you except the girl named Allison, and that is because she has been in the news over the years for different movies that she has been in. 
They were all exactly the same age, and this guy looks like he could be ten years younger than her.
He can’t be one of them…
Can he?
Whether he’s one of them or not, just like with your date tonight, as soon as you get free, you are going to show this sorry sack that he may think he knows you and you are just going to lay here and let him treat you like his little play thing, but he got it all wrong. 
He picked the wrong girl to fuck with.
If this loser was one of the Umbrella Academy kids, you haven’t seen any signs of his powers, which might be because you recall hearing that they all lost them at some point. If he is one of them, it appears he lost even more than that, and he is in luck because you are about to help him lose even more.
The rope painfully digs into your skin. You are so close. A few more twists and the ligaments holding your thumb together will slide, letting your bones pop out of place. Then you can grab his knife and it’s go time fucker.
Someone is getting a knife through the dick and it’s one hundred percent Mr. Umbrella Academy Tattoo!
The phone lets out another long buzzing sound then stops. He doesn’t say anything this time, but the disturbance must have disturbed him again because you feel his hand slowly start surveying your upper leg, his fingers gently tracing a line northward.
You begin to struggle. Your nasally whines of protest have him swiftly changing course, instead clamping that same hand at your waist. He pulls you closer as he presses his face against your neck.
“I am sorry, Dolores…” he whispers.
He is so close. Everything suddenly feels very hot.
His lips part then they start feather lightly, sweep along the coating of moisture he’s creating on your skin. When the heat of his pelvis moves tight against your hip, you are shocked that he isn’t hard again over violating you. 
This guy doesn’t make any sense. You thought that was part of the whole thing he was into, but when he popped a woody from touching your face and neck, as soon as he noticed it was happening, he took off like he was scared shitless.
Maybe right now he is just not recovered enough from his last weirdo whack session or...
Is it possible that he really doesn't want to hurt you. Maybe he wasn’t planning on it when he reached out like he did in the parking lot? 
Maybe you had it all wrong in thinking that he was enjoying watching you nearly getting raped. He had clearly been doing something by way of enjoying himself prior to sprinting out into the parking lot, but…
All of a sudden, it dawns on you that he actually looked very upset by what he saw happen. He sounded very upset by it. It was like he was so distressed by it that he ran down there planning to do something about it. 
He looked like he wasn’t expecting you to be there. He actually seemed very confused by it.
Was he coming after your date?
At the moment, you didn’t see all that, but now…
Well…
What the fuck?
He is obviously very messed up, but maybe not in messed-up in the ‘I’m going to violently rape you and murder you’ kind of way.
He did abduct you, but he just said he was going to let you go. He said that he was going to leave.
For some bizarre reason, he seems to be very in love with his mannequin and you are almost certain that right now he thinks you are her. He is so delusional; he probably can’t even tell the difference.
Again, your feet dig down into his mattress as he nuzzles your neck and makes one of those super soft whimpering noises.
This does not feel like he’s trying to hurt you. It feels like he is trying to do something else entirely.
Something is not adding up other than he is most certainly off his rocker.
He said that he has done the worst things a human can do, and you have no idea what he meant by that, but when he could have raped you while you were out or even now, he didn’t. Besides tying you up, the things he was doing before taking off to take care of his boner problem were all in an effort to help you. 
Add all this up and what he said about letting the devil own him, may not have been implying what you originally thought. The more you think about it, it seems like he could have been talking about killing himself, not giving in to raping and killing you.
You can’t see his entire face, but you can tell that his eyes are still pinched shut and it’s in such a way that looks so miserable.
You have no idea what is going on with the guy but it’s clear that something is very wrong with him, and it’s not just that he is mega wasted.
As your mind is putting all this together, he lets out a throaty sound that almost sounds like a sob before he begins placing soft kisses along your bruised neck while vibrating his next words across your skin. “Please don’t leave me.”  
His hand at the narrowest part of your waist slips under you, tenderly massaging circles against your lower back. His warm fingers very subtly dig in as if he’s trying to comfort you.
You can’t help it when a similar sounding whine comes out of you as your heels dig in across the bedding again. 
He is all over you and not in the hurtful kind of way. 
This is not what you’d expect from a sexual sadist who gets their jollies off torturing people.
As he kisses just below your ear in that very sensitive space that makes your toes curl, he does so like he has done this maneuver about a million times, and he lets out the most contented sounding sigh when your body involuntarily shudders from it. This has got you starting to think that you may have read this crazy perv all wrong.
He’s a perv but maybe not the type you thought.
What he’s doing is so unbelievably tender and loving that it has you trembling from head to toe and incidentally not just from fear.
“Dolores, please forgive me.”
Again, he’s not talking to you, that much is very clear.
After saying that, he stops with the kisses, his body motionless as he clings to you like his life depends on it.
After a few minutes of nothing but the sound of his steady breathing, you know that he is fully out again. 
To the feel of his chest rising and falling against your side, you start to work your wrists free again.
-------------------------
Thanks for reading.
(Chapter four, coming soon...)
If you are hungry for more, faster than I post it here, find this and my other Five stories at the first link below or visit my Blog to see all my Tumblr posts:
Master List Post to my Five Centric Stories and Art
KayBreezy | Archive of Our Own
kaybreezy-on-a03 on Tumblr
43 notes · View notes
badkitty3000 · 13 days
Text
Tumblr media
Physical Fitness
Five has been distant lately, but you discover all he needs is a good workout to get his mind back on you again
Words: 2800
Warnings: Smut, Daddy kink, masturbation
☂️Requests open!☂️
Link to my Number Five Fanfiction Master List
Five doesn’t always give you his utmost attention when he gets home. Some days he’s bursting through the door, pissed off about one thing or another, already in mid-sentence while he rants about the lack of brain cells in whoever was annoying him that day. So, you listen quietly, with an amused expression that you try and hide from him until he calms down enough for you to speak. Usually, all it takes is a soft kiss, a scratch down his back with your nails, and maybe even a stiff drink and he’s back to being putty in your hands.
You don’t care if he stomps around the kitchen, slamming cupboard doors and rattling the glasses inside. Or if he’s so worked up, he can’t sit still and he paces back and forth in the living room while muttering various curse words under his breath. You don’t mind because his anger is never aimed at you, and you are also the only one who can dare to try and calm him down without fear of bodily harm.
No, those things don’t bother you. What does bother you is when he outright ignores you. Those times when he hurries through the door, waves a hasty hello without even glancing up, and shuts himself away in his office. When you try and go to him, knocking hesitantly on the door and cracking it open, he’ll look up momentarily from whatever he’s doing, give you a brief smile, and he’s back at it again. On those days, you’ve learned to just let him be. But it still doesn’t make you any less irritated.
He knows it pisses you off. So, later, when you’ve gone to bed before him and you’re feigning sleep, he’ll slip in behind you and pull you close. He’ll whisper how much he loves you and place kisses along your shoulder and neck until you can’t take it anymore and you’re pushing back against him, having forgotten what you were mad about in the first place.
Those days used to be few and far between, but lately, it’s become a habit. Every day these past two weeks, it’s been one quick peck on the cheek or brief hug, before he’s back at his “research” and ignoring you behind closed doors. You’ve tried talking to him, and he says he’ll make an effort but so far you haven’t seen anything change. You know you have a solid relationship and he would never do anything to intentionally hurt you, but you’re not sure why he’s acting like this. Probably just because he’s an oblivious man wrapped up in his own world, but still, it’s making you worry.
When you are stressed, you usually throw yourself into some kind of physical activity. For a while it was kickboxing, and then it was tennis. Lately, it’s been yoga. It seems to work well for relaxing your mind while also getting a bit of a workout. Tonight you think about going to the studio that you usually frequent, but decide you’re too lazy and you’ll just do your own routine at home.
Five is still not home, but you aren’t going to wait for him. Not like it would matter anyway. You change into your sports bra and black leggings, pull your hair back in a ponytail, and fill up your water bottle. Once you are set up in the living room, with the lights dimmed and relaxing music playing, you begin with a few stretches and then move into some more advanced poses.
Your workout is an hour long and about 30 minutes in you have a nice sheen of sweat covering your body and you’re feeling good. The next half is more about cooling down and resetting your mind. As you are getting into position for the next pose, you hear Five open and close the door to the house, and his footsteps walking towards the room you’re in. You don’t stop what you’re doing. Your time is valuable too, and if he can’t be bothered to stop what he’s doing lately, then why should you?
You sense Five walk into the room just as you are bending over in downward facing dog, your hands on the floor in front of you and your ass in the air. You can’t see his face, but when you look through your legs, you can see that he has stopped in the doorway. Then you watch as his polished black dress shoes cross over one another and he leans into the door frame. When you stand up and look over your shoulder you see him casually watching you with a wolfish grin.
“Please, don’t let me stop you,” he says, gesturing with his hand for you to continue. His shirt sleeves are uncuffed and rolled up his forearms as he crosses his arms over his chest in an air of superiority.
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “Is this what I have to do to get your attention these days? Bend over in tight pants?”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
You huff, turning away from him. “Well, I’m going to finish my workout, so either sit there quietly or go back to your office.”
“Alright, I will,” you hear him say as you get back to your routine.
Assuming he was talking about the latter of your two suggestions, you’re caught off guard when you see him cross over and sit down in one of the armchairs facing you.
“What are you doing?”
He shrugs with a smirk. “Sitting here quietly.”
Not really wanting to indulge him in whatever he’s up to, you turn away again with a loud sigh and move into another pose. There’s a few more minutes of balancing with your butt on display in Five’s direction, but he doesn’t say anything. Then you move onto the ground on your stomach, pushing the top half of your body up with your arms and looking towards the ceiling.
“So, what’s that one called?”
You sigh again. “Cobra. I thought you were supposed to be quiet.”
When you turn around again, your mouth opens in a partial gape as you watch Five in his chair. He is sitting with his legs splayed and his hand on the very prominent bulge in his crotch, eyeing you up like a hungry predator.
“I got your cobra right here, honey,” he says with a smile, and you can see he’s trying not to laugh at his stupid innuendo.
You try to hold in your own giggle but you can’t and you shake your head. “You’re disgusting.”
With another smart-ass grin, he pulls his tie off, discarding it on the floor. “No. Whipping out my dick and jerking off while watching you would be disgusting.”
Before you can make a comment, he starts doing exactly that; unbuckling his belt and unzipping the fly to his pants. He pushes them down far enough to expose his fully hard cock and he gives it a long stroke with his hand, all while keeping his eyes on you.
You should be disgusted. Or annoyed, at the very least. But, fuck, he looks hot sitting there with his sleeves rolled up and his hair flopping onto his forehead; thick cock in his hand. Your breath speeds up just a little and you swallow the pool of saliva that has collected in your mouth.
You clear your throat and flip your ponytail over your shoulder with a sly grin. “Well…you do what you want, I guess. I’m going to finish this workout.”
As you turn away, you decide you’re going to give him as good of a show as you can come up with. You get down on the ground in child’s pose, making sure to spread your knees out wide and push your ass back towards your heels while you splay your arms out in front of you in supplication. You can’t see him, but the thought of what he is doing while watching you is getting you wet and creating a damp spot in the crotch of your pants.
You are slow and deliberate with your movements, and you are back on your hands and knees, only this time you turn to face him. His breathing is louder as he shamelessly works his fist over his cock, running his thumb over the head and jerking his hips up. You can hear the wet slapping noises as his fingers spread the continuous flow of pre-cum over his shaft and he picks up the pace. One side of his mouth turns up as you look at him but he doesn’t slow his movements.
“Fuck, baby, keep going,” he breathes out.
With a breathy laugh you get back to it, pushing your ass up and arching your neck back in a cow pose. It gives him a nice view of your tits in your skimpy sports bra and you hear him let out a quiet grunt while he vigorously pleasures himself. When you flip around and push your hips towards the sky, legs spread wide in a bridge pose, you hear him moan softly.
Turning back over and staying on your hands and knees, you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes and start to crawl slowly towards him. His breath hitches in his throat when you stop between his legs, wetting your plump pink lips with your tongue and gazing up through a fan of dark lashes. Five lets out a long groan when you reach up and place your hand around his, guiding him as he slowly pumps his cock up and down.
“Do you want to fuck me, Daddy?” you ask as sweetly and innocently as possible.
Five lets out a growl through gritted teeth as he thrusts his hips up into the tight fist around his dick.
“Yes. Fuck, yes, I want to fuck you.”
You lean forward and run the flat of your tongue up the underside of his shaft, from base to tip, keeping your eyes on him until he closes his and leans his head back with a whine.
When you pull back, taking your hand with you, he looks back down at you with a deep crease between his dark brows as you start tracing one finger over the top of his thigh and sticking out your bottom lip.
“Five, I want nothing more than to feel your big, thick cock inside of me right now, but here’s the thing. Unless you get that gorgeous, brilliant head out of your ass and start making an effort to acknowledge me around here, I’m afraid that cobra of yours is going to get mighty lonely. Understand?”
Five lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t be serious.”
You pout some more and then back away, shaking your head. “Sorry, baby. I’m very serious.”
Before you let him respond, your back is turned to him again and you’re bending over in an upside-down V shape while running a hand slowly over one ass cheek and down the back of your thigh.
“Fuck…” you hear him moan under his breath and you know you’ve got him. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice sounding just a tad on the pitiful side. “I will make an effort to pay attention to you more.”
You look at him through your legs again, watching him pout with his dick in his hand, and you smile. “No more slinking into your office the minute you get home and ignoring me?”
“No, I promise. No more.”
You love that he’s practically begging you now, desperate and panting as you tease him with your tight, round ass in front of his face. You press back a little more to accentuate it.
“Alright then, as long as you promise. Now, what was it that you wanted to do to me?”
In a literal flash, Five is behind you, pants falling to the ground and his hands on your hips, tugging you backward. You shriek as he slams his pelvis into your backside, his solid cock pushing between your clothed legs. He yanks you back up to standing with a hand wrapped around your ponytail, his breath hot on your neck as his low and deadly voice buzzes over your skin.
“On your hands and knees. Daddy’s going to fuck you now.”
With a pathetic moan that is partly due to the fact that you can’t help yourself when it comes to his demands, you drop to the floor on your hands and knees. He’s behind you again, tugging at the waistband of your pants and pulling them down your thighs. When you feel his fingers slip in between your legs, your body instinctively reacts by pressing backward onto his hand.
“Five…” you whine, your head hanging down as he pushes his fingers inside you. “Please…”
“What’s wrong sweetheart? I thought you wanted more attention from me.”
You thrust your hips back and forth, fucking his fingers while you moan and gasp like some kind of feral creature. When he pulls his hand away, you feel his wet fingers on your back as he pushes your torso towards the ground. He’s teasing you with his cock, rubbing his leaking head against your clit and through your folds until you can’t stand it anymore.
“Five!” you cry, your face pushed against the floor.
“Let me hear you, darling. Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck me! Please!”
Five doesn’t hesitate for a second, slipping inside of you, pushing all of the way in until his hips are flush with your ass. He grips your waist tightly, holding you there while you squirm against him.
“Fuuuck…” he groans. “You know exactly how Daddy likes it.”
After a strong slap to your ass, Five starts fucking you hard and deep, driving into you with enough force that your body is propelled forward and you know you’re going to have rug burn on your arms and knees. But it doesn’t matter, because everything he is doing is exactly right. Each time he pounds into you, and you feel his thick cock filling you up, you cry out from how good it feels. Your pussy is soaking wet and throbbing with each thrust and you’re not sure how much more you can take.
He's breathing loud and hard behind you, a loud grunt accompanying each snap of his hips, hands firmly clutching your body; holding you steady while he pumps inside of you.
“Oh shit, you’re such a good girl for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you come on my cock,” he rasps.
With one expert move of his hand around the front of you, his fingers finding your clit and pressing into it hard, you yell out.
“Oh, god, Five! Yesss….oh fffuckk…I…I…oh shh…”
Your orgasm hits you hard and your fingers claw into the carpet beneath you, your knuckles white, and your body spasming uncontrollably against his. You continue moaning his name while he pounds into you a few more times before swearing loudly and exploding inside of you. You both stay like that, the muscles in your bodies tight and locked into position as your cries and whines soften and then subside. Soon, there is nothing but the ragged sound of your heavy breathing, and you feel him start to soften and pull out.
You both collapse onto the floor on your backs, chests heaving and shiny with sweat. When you look over at Five, you smile and then start laughing breathily.
“What’s so funny?” he smirks, turning his head to the side to look at you while he reaches down to pull up his pants.
You begin to pull up your own as you grin back at him. “You. If I had known all I needed to do to get your attention was stick my ass in your face, I would have done that weeks ago.”
Five chuckles and moves over next to you, propping his head up with one hand. He pushes a damp piece of hair off your face. “It definitely doesn’t hurt for you to do that, and I will always pay attention when that luscious ass is in my face. But I should have listened to you before. I’m sorry if you’ve felt ignored.”
“I just like spending time with you. I don’t mind you going off and doing whatever it is you do in there, but maybe sometimes include me too? You don’t have to shut me out of everything.”
He nods. “You’re right. And like I said, I promise I will stop from here on out.”
He leans down and kisses you while you run a hand through his soft hair. “I’m not sure why or how I love you as much as I do,” you sigh.
“Me either. But, god, am I glad you do.”
60 notes · View notes
black-coffee-beats · 2 years
Text
Klaus: Beer?
Y/N: I don't drink.
Klaus: Water?
Diego: She just said she doesn't drink.
680 notes · View notes
Text
(R) Drabbles: Klaus Mikealson- Jealous?
Tumblr media Tumblr media
You two had a one-night fucking stand and somehow it had turned into a whole, much larger issue at hand. You were pregnant with his child. Pregnant with a baby, and let’s be honest you weren’t prepared to be a mother and Klaus wasn’t at all prepared to be a father. 
When you told Klaus that you were pregnant he looked at you as if you were kidding him. As if it were all a fucking good ole joke, but your face told a different story. A different story that held Klasu on the tips of his toes. Words wanted to come out but yet nothing did. 
He just left you there with nothing else to be said, and that was nearly five months ago. Now Klaus is better, you’d like to call it better. You aren’t sure what changed though in his whole demeanor. Elijah his brother had become as supportive as Klaus. Your round belly made wearing anything that was originally yours horrible. Tummy sticking out and pants not fitting. 
Your complaining had caused Klaus to write down everything. He watched as you struggled with lacing up your shoes, getting shirts to fit down your belly, pants to sit right on your hips, and everything else that seemed to be bothering you nowadays. Klaus and you had decided that getting comfortable with each other was just going to have to be the only plan. So, Klaus moved you into his room. Fluffy pillows followed behind you, your clothes scattered the bedroom floor, and the large bathroom had become a shared space with all of your facial, and hair supplies. On the bed was this oblong pillow meant to keep you comfortable but made Klaus’s bed look like a fucking mess. Klaus rolled his eye at what used to be his room becoming a mod podge of random things littering the space. 
“I’m just so hungry!” You complained as you rested your hand on your protruding belly, and your swollen ankles laid up on the coffee table. Klaus was painting a rather enjoyable habit. “Klaus please would you go get me some cake and some pickles?” You asked out into the living room. An arched brow was returned to you as you heard him set down the paintbrush and slid the chair back. “Those two things together doll.” Klaus wondered. He had turned to use some more romantic names. Something about the baby being able to hear his voice. 
He left you in the living room and ventured out into the kitchen grabbing the things you had asked for. “Here you go Y/n.” But his words had been stopped midway. Just over the couches, Klaus could see his older brother sitting down next to the mother of his child. He was sweetly talking to her belly. Y/n must have given permission for his hand to be resting on her belly. “Elijah.” It was the hard and harsh word that fell from Klaus’s lips. “Brother, I was just talking to Y/n here. She was saying that she thought it was going to be a girl.” Elijah had the ability to be both very resourceful and yet at the same time very fucking annoying. 
“She hadn’t said that to me yet,” Klaus said as he set down the carton of ice cream and pickles. Still the oddest of cravings. There was a look between the three of them. “I did say something about thinking it was a girl, but you weren’t paying attention,” Her mouth would have gotten her in trouble if she wasn’t pregnant.  The longer that Klaus slept next to the mother of his child, the harder it became for the hard layers, and facade to stay up. 
He was falling for her. Falling for the mother of his kid, and was scaring the shit out of him. He felt like every person who interacted with her was there to steal her away from him. Y/n was his, and that was only made more concrete with the baby bump growing every day. The knowledge to Klaus that he was slowly falling for you showed up in many odds ways. Mostly with his older brother, Elijah meant no harm by it, Elijah was always there for Klaus no matter what. A big brother is always there to protect his little brother. It didn’t stop though, the jealousy was strong in a character such as Klaus. 
It happened once more. Klaus had left when you had closed your eyes. The overwhelming stress that your body went through on a daily Starting with the most mundane things. Getting up from bed, putting your clothes on, and your shoes that had become a feat in itself. Choosing to rather go barefoot or the easiest of shoes like slippers or flip-flops. 
You snored in your sleep and it gave an alert to Klaus beside your heartbeat slowing down. He could also hear the heartbeat of his child. You picked out a name a few weeks ago. It didn’t matter if it wasn’t a girl it was gonna be Hope. Klaus hadn’t argued with you he enjoyed the name just as much as you did. He gathered himself, and the list that he had been creating for the past few months. A large that was not only front but also back. His handwriting was sloppy in some places but he managed to still be able to read it. He went out, making sure to get every last single thing on the list. from things that you needed and a long, long list of things that you had read about in baby books. The var was packed with baby supplies and food for you to enjoy. Klaus was rather enjoying the way he was acting, the father, and his protective ways. 
He parked the car before unlocking the front door. From far away he heard the little voices. He went to go investigate. There you were watching tv which explained the voices, but not why Elijah was rubbing your feet. He had thrown his jacket over the back of one of the living room chairs. His sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his fingers lathered up in lotion. Swollen feet were put up on the coffee table. Tiny moans fell from your lips something that Klaus hadn’t heard since that night. He watched and more like staring down at his older brother, “Hello Nikluas. How are you doing today?” Elijah asked without even looking up from Y/n’s feet. There was fire sitting and growing behind Klaus’s eyes. Deep-throated groans fell from Klaus as he walked away grabbing all the shit from the back of the car and bringing it in. 
By that time Elijah was working the other foot. His thumbs rubbed and applied pressure in the best of places at the bottom of Y/n’s sore feet. Y/n wasn’t awake when Klaus was around the corner of the couch, not like she was awake when Klaus arrived back home. “Elijah, what the fuck are you doing?” Klaus questioned his older brother, Elijah just stared at him for a moment. Watching as the anger began to boil up in his brother. “What do you think I’m doing here Klaus?”
Always with the questions and never answers back. Elijah watched as his brother looked between him and Y/n. “Oh, brother. You don’t think… You know you’ve always been so… so visible.” Elijah says matter of factly. “What does the even mean Elijah?” Klaus can’t wrap his head around it. “Klaus you love her,” He says looking over at the sleeping Y/n her hand resting on her pregnant belly.
Mouth left a gap, “You love her so much that you fear your older brother is trying to take her away from you. Which.” Elijah says looking back over at Klaus. “Isn’t true and you know it, you’re just afraid to love someone else. Afraid that you’ll fuck up, and most importantly you’re afraid of losing her before you’ve gotten the chance to tell Y/n you love her.” Elijah’s ministrations continued on Y/n’s feet. 
Klaus rolled his eyes and huffed before kissing Y/n softly on her forehead smoothing her hair down and scooting his older brother out of the way. Instead taking his brother’s place showing and telling two different things to show, but for now. Klaus can show Y/n just how much she truly means to him. 
Tumblr media
Compeleted on: 03/02/23
Posted on: 03/08/23
The Originals-
97 notes · View notes