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#five imagine
parkersbliss · 2 years
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Flustered | F. Hargreeves
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pairing: five hargreeves x fem!reader
wc: 903
warnings: sexual innuendo?
synopsis: ever since five retried, he’s been a lot more affectionate with you
requests: CLOSED
prompts: 043: “Your hands are really soft.” 054: “They have everyone.” “Not you.” “I’m the exception.” 067: “Nice hickey. Where’d you get it?”
“Hi, Luther, Klaus, Diego!” You greet happily. Five doesn’t bother and just pulls out his chair.
“What’s wrong?” Later said through a mouthful of Chinese takeout. “You look happy.”
You come up next to Five, and he pulls a chair out for you, making your cheeks heat up at the small action. “Why can’t he be happy?”
“Well, he’s Five. Always so… bitter.”
You shrug. “They hate everyone.”
“Not you.”
“I’m the exception.”
“I am plenty happy,” Five spoke, taking a seat. “Had a nap and shvitz, what does a man need?”
“Brother’s who don’t eat like barn animals?” Klaus suggests.
Both Diego and Luther look to Klaus, mouths full of noodles, proving his point.
You sit down, smiling at the three brothers. You're dressed in the same thing as Five, a soft bathrobe that says “Hotel Obsidian.”
Klaus grins at you, and you raise a brow. “Nice hickey. Where’d you get it?”
“What?” You practically scream, pulling back the collar of your bathrobe.
Diego snickers, “Seems like Five got a little more than a Shvitz.”
Luther nods. “Yeah, (Y/N) looks like she’s gonna die of embarrassment.”
Klaus claps. “Oh my god, I’m so happy for you two! How was it?”
Five blinked at his brother. “It’s none of your business.”
“Oh, why not? We’re bros!”
Five sighs, looking at you, then back to Klaus. “It was… nice.” You basically die in your seat at his choice of wording. He notices and chuckles, grabbing your hand in his. The three brothers whistle, and you shrink further into your seat.
“Your hands are really soft,” He whispers in your ear.
“Five!” You whine, feeling like you might explode at all the attention and affection. You and Five mostly kept your relationship on the down-low, seeming it was the most concerning issue the past month.
“So I’ve been thinking through our little timeline snafu, and I’m pleased to report that in my professional, expert opinion: we are totally in the clear.”
“Awesome!”
“Huh.”
“Great! So everything’s totally fine?” Luther asked.
“More or less. I mean,” Five hesitates, smiling. “There is one small thing. But it’s nothing we can’t manage.”
Five hands you one of the carry-out boxes, “Choi mein, your favorite.” And you smile softly, mumbling a thanks to him. He just smiles back, “Anytime.” And your stomach flips when he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. You actually think you might die this time.
“So, spit it out, boomer!” Diego mumbles through his noodles.
“Fine, Diego, it’s like this. Dad didn’t adopt us as babies, but those babies still existed here,” Five explained as you take a bite of your own meal.
Klaus frowns. “Awww.”
“We just grew up in different places with different people.”
“So?” Diego questions.
“So where are they now? Odds are we each have identical versions of ourselves walking around out there living completely different lives.”
Luter gasps excitedly. “Our doppelgängers!”
“That’s a made-up word,” Klaus dismisses.
“No, no, I learned all about this in Texas. Tell them about the paranoid psychosis, Five!”
“It’s paradox,” You correct.
“Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa, I thought you said this wasn’t a problem?”
“Okay, yes,” Five admits. “Technically, if you’re near your Doppel for too long, you’ll go insane. So if you ever see your other self—”
“Kill them.”
“Sleep with them.”
“… avoid them."
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Luther asked, giving both his brothers a skeptical look.
“Oh, come on, as if you wouldn’t climb Luther mountain,” Klaus teases. The look on Luther’s face tells you enough about what he’s thinking.
“Wait, how are we supposed to guarantee we don’t cross paths with ourselves?”
“Easy. I mean, we’re the Benetton of superheroes, born all around the world until dad brought us here, which he no longer did. Doppel’s probably aren’t even in the same time zone as us.”
“That’s true,” Luther mumbles.
Diego nods. “Yeah.”
“Would you pass the moo shu?” Five asked, reaching across the table, and Luther does so. Suddenly, Diego leaves in a rush, and you shrug it off.
“So how long have you two been…” Klaus trails off, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Gross, Klaus,” Five said, before adding. “We’ve been together for a while now.”
“Oh, wow,” Klaus sighs. “That’s so cute. I mean, (Y/N) is so sweet, and you’re so… you!”
You giggle at that, and Five rolls his eyes, “Thanks, Klaus.” Five grabs his takeout and a pair of chopsticks before taking your hand and helping you off your seat.
“You didn’t have to do that, Five,” You mumble, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.
“I know, darling, but I wanted to,” He replies, and you swear you’re gonna pass out.
Five must notice because he waves his brothers goodbye and leads you back to the hotel room. His hand intertwines with yours, and your face is even hotter now.
“You’re easily flustered, darling,” Five said, opening the door to his room.
“You’re not usually so forward, that’s all,” You shrug.
“Well, I’m retired, so I get to spend the rest of my life loving you.”
You hide your face in your hands at his comment. “Five!”
He chuckles, peeling your hands away carefully. “There you are, pretty girl.” Five cups your face in his hands, pressing a tender kiss to your lips that has you internally screaming.
“The rest of our lives is just gonna be this,” He promises.
“Really?”
“Really.”
— END —
🏷 five taglist: @clearbasementvoid @halfumbrella @esmedith @navs-bhat @alexxavicry @thelaststraw3 @rainbows-r-nice05 @gcldtom @bokuakadaily @3ternalreal1ty @umbrellatte @hahaspoilerhaha @mi1kobitch @analuizafernandescavalcante @icarus-star @yuki1s--note @m4nd0l0r @ells-graveyard @eichenhouseproperty @iaevs @oneirataxia-girl @ay4kshalatus
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rcksmith · 1 year
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Untouchable - Five Hargreeves
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You can find the 2 request here: anonymous 1, anonymous 2.
Resume: The villain falls in love with the girl.
Trope: “ Who did this to you?” “Touch her and you are dead.” “i´ll find you in every lifetime”
Couple: Five Hargreeves /Fem!Reader.
Warnings:  A LOT OF ANGST, swearing,  mention of death, blood,  fight between the Hargreeves and the Sparrows,a little enemies to lovers in the end,  fluff, SMUT, degrading talk.
Word count: 15k.
A/N: Spoiler from season 3.
OMG THIS IS HUGE JAHHSHDAHSDJAHDHND it turned out bigger than i expected. 
Because I have a lot of requests in my box, I compile orders that are similar and put together, but I took care to added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down.
We not tolerate any pedophilia here!! I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter, MHA and others fandoms.
English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.
Requests are OPEN. Love you ❤️
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Honor comes from the Latin honoris. Indicating a person who lives with honesty and probity, basing their way of life on the dictates of morality. A principle that leads someone to have a righteous, virtuous conduct, which allows to enjoy a good reputation in society.
Five Hargreeves thought of himself as a callous man with no honor and, somehow, able to drown out the voice of morality in his head. He was very knowledgeable about literature and history, and his physics and math skills could surpass Tesla's, but philosophy for him was a bunch of weak principles and dictated by people who didn't really know the world, who didn't pass 1% of what he passed by, who did not see what he saw. Not even Socrates, Plato or Machiavelli had known the worst of humanity like him, the truth about realities.   A big part of his existence came down to surviving, fighting, winning, crushing everything that threatened his life.
His cynical outlook on life led him to pragmatism, and he knows that if he wants something done, he will have to do it himself.
His actions were more about getting things done than about displaying a display of rebellion or power. However,  Five was not afraid of pain or even killing. He didn't mind being the author of the worst massacres if it meant going back to his family.
Five Hargreeves don't give a damn about being the villain of the story. He did what had to be done.
It was why, when The Handle ordered him to carry out the death sentence of a Duke and Duchess in 1730, Five did not question or hesitate.
Even though in the back of his mind, in a very small part of his brain, the question arose as to why people from such an old and outdated date, he did nothing about it,  much less pulled the thread from the ball of yarn that would trigger a series of questions in a row. His job was not to ask why, to investigate step by step, to go through file by file. Five wasn't on The Commission to know the reason for each death, he was on the execution.
So he went, letting the suitcase unfold before his eyes an ancient era, from a faraway time, introducing him to carriages, flowing dresses, gigantic balls. And, as much as some people considered that era poetic, Five never liked lack of practicality.
So he killed the couple as quickly as possible, determined to escape from the need to spend more hours in that old-fashioned place.
It was like any other murder he had committed over the years on The Commission; he came, killed, and left. No looking back, no questions, no hesitation. Drowning in the deepest wave any second feelings that might have submerged, ensuring his emotions were chained very well at the bottom of the ocean.
It was easy, normal, routine. He was once again the villain, and could sleep very well the night with that.
But something began to change gradually in the atmosphere, in the air.
On some mornings, it was as if Five's hands were tingling for no apparent reason, eager to catch up something he had no idea what it was. On some afternoons, his heart vibrated in his chest, like a ground being punished by an earthquake, shaking his balanced state of mind. And, on some dawns, Five's mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert, thirsty for something that not even the coldest water could appease.
Wherever he was the air stayed suddenly thin, stuffy. And sometimes, in the middle of a mission, the wind seemed to blow in only one direction, hitting Hargreeves' back as if pushing him to go in a path. At those moments, his heart returned fluttered in his chest, as if he knew that one north was calling him and was that where he needed to go.
Everything inside Hargreeves began to be affected by strange reactions, spurred by banal, mundane events.
An in a few seconds, if Five stood completely still, silencing his thoughts and hollowing out any inner voices, he could hear something in the wind calling for him. Small seconds that swept away any balance that one day he ever had.
Five Hargreeves was going through a peripeteia, and he had no idea what was causing it.
What hell is going on?
It was wen, on an afternoon where the sun hid with shame among the dark gray clouds, The Handler gave him another murder.
In 1750.
His soul shuddered inside him in that second, echoing through his bones, keeping Five's egyptian green eyes fixed on the paper in his hands, unable to look away from the bold numbers that indicated the date of his next mission.
The icy breeze ruffled his dark hair, but he didn't move. There seemed to be something important and unspoken in the air, and this time, the voice calling his name on the wind grew softly louder. Now, it didn't seem to come from the back of his mind anymore, but from a place far away.
Five looked around, in an instinctive movement in the pathetic and vain attempt to find the source of that voice.
Nothing. As always.
“Five.” The Handler snapped her fingers in front of his face “May I have your precious attention?" The irony didn't go unnoticed, but his eyes flickered to hers. “As I was saying, the time and place of this mission is strictly important. Viscount Sebastian needs to be killed in his office at midnight, in the middle of his daughter's debut ball, not a minute less and nowhere else.”
Hargreeves gave a nod. Not because he had devoted all of his attention to her, just because he wanted her to stop talking. Much of his concentration was still on the way his body and the hemisphere around him behaved. Mission times and places were standard, no need to focus on this nonsense and listen to someone reiterate the rules as if Five were a child. He was 26 years old, a child was the last thing he was.
Something seemed to be happening, occult like a current that rattles under the sea. And the knowledge that he couldn't see the bottom of the ocean unnerved every cell in his body. Hargreeves couldn't stand things he couldn't perceive, understand how it works, take it apart and put it back together again.
This time, when Five returned to the eighteenth century, with 20 years having passed in that time after his visit and only 2 weeks for him, what hit him first was not the impracticality, the carriages, the big dresses. But the wind. Strong, cold, bringing with it the voice who called his name for weeks, now loud and clear.
The dark strands of his body prickled, and he could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Suddenly, anxiety snaked through his body like venom, stirring every fiber in his body, pumping something into his veins that made his blood heat like lava. An emotion he couldn't name what it was.
In the last mission, Five had a string of complaints about the  way the black waistcoat squeezed the white linen shirt over his abdomen, and how heavy the straight-cut coat felt heavy under his shoulders. But in this time, he wasn't bothered with the clothes he had to wear so as not to attract attention and go unnoticed. Now, with his heart pounding in his chest, his throat dry and the constant feeling that he had to be somewhere urgently, his clothes were the last things on his mind.
It was an emotion that squeezed the pit of his stomach, made his hands itch and his body shot with an adrenaline that screamed that he needed to move. That he had a more important place to be. All the sensations he'd felt leisurely over the weeks now came back with absurd force, as if he were getting close to the source of it all.
What was happening?
The moon in that far away era shone sovereignly in the sky, blessing the houses, carriages and large mansions with cascades of distilled light in the purest color of silver.
Las time, the feeling that came over Five was to get out of there as quickly as possible. But now, looking around in search of the source of the voice calling him in the wind, the last thing on his mind was leaving.
His watch still read eight o'clock, but the sensation  was like he was already late.
The most practical plan was to stay hidden somewhere near the mansion where the ball was being held. Avoiding crowds, witnesses, minimizing risk and being a shadow. As always did. The most rational thing to do was to stay away from that place at all costs, until the inevitable arrived and he was forced to enter through one of the windows.
He should have done it. But he didn't.
Just as a sailor follows a siren's song on the high seas, Five followed that voice on the wind. His brain screamed for him to seek a hiding place, but his soul rebelled with an absurd ferocity, ricocheting tremors through all his bones and ordering his legs to follow a path his conscious did not know. His whole mind was confused, but his soul carried a certainty that no other living being had ever had in they life.
With no other option, stunned by the sensations in his own body, he found himself walking towards the front door of the only place he was supposed to avoid until midnight.
If Five Hargreeves had to describe what was happening to his five senses, he would say that his vision was mildly blurred, as if were searching for focus. The smell was of climax and the ambient sounds were drowned out by his own heartbeat. It was like being there in flesh and blood, but not in soul.
He didn't focus on the details of the world around him, but he knew when he finished climbing the front steps. He couldn't focus on the conversation around him, but he knew that a few people were walking beside him.
His mind saw everything, but processed nothing.
It was a mistake not to be 100% aware of the environment, not to study each individual's body language, not to constantly calculate the odds of a move going wrong. But... it was as if something prevented him from emerging to the surface.
Five didn't respond when the butler greeted him at the entrance to the great hall, but looked around as the wind from outside hit his back and his name rang in his ears once more.
It was a female voice. Now he could tell.
Going deeper into the hall, the melody of the orchestra invaded his ears while thousands of people, talking, dancing and drinking, took his view. Everything resembled a blur on a painting, the sounds were still muffled as if Five were at the bottom of the sea, and the smell transitioned between flowers, feminine perfume and poetry.
Five Hargreeves was a pragmatic, cynical and austere man. Everything that made up his being was based on rationality, laws of physics and mathematical concepts,  he wasn't oscillated  by tender things and he certainly wasn't carried away by things of the heart or soul. He always followed what rationality dictated. Until now.
Until now.
Like a violin string that ruptured, Hargreeves was gripped by the feeling that something very important was about to happen. Something that would not only change his existence forever, but change him for eternity. This fact stared him at back, bold, warm and as inevitable as the setting sun. And very hair on his body stood on end at once while everything inside him pulsed with a brutality that could shake his bones.
Now, the sound of the orchestra was drowned out by the soundtrack of his life, which was coming closer to apex by the second. It was like being submerged in a slow-motion, in a moment that preceded an momentous event.
As magnets are pulled one by the other in an impassable way, his eyes, as if they already knew where to look, were drawn to a figure among the others who danced in the middle of the hall.
You.
Was like an explosion. Loud and brutal. He suddenly submerged from the bottom of the sea, bewildered, desperate, out of breath. The stupor released itself all at once, bringing his mind back to the reality. Instantaneously, nothing was blurred anymore, sounds weren't muffled, and he abruptly returned to his conscious state. But his soul was not so lucky. Like being whipped by live eels, his heart pounded in his chest with such fury that he leaned over forward millimeters, his throat was drier than the Egyptian desert and now his hands itched in a hellish, bestial, uncontrollable way.
Five Hargreeves has released himself from a wave of numbness only to be hit by a tsunami of sensation.
His eyes were seeing everything clearly now, but he couldn't take his attention away from the female figure dancing in the middle of the room, her bouffant gown swirling gracefully across the floor as if deities were blowing the fabrics.
There were a lot of people around him, in front of him, behind him, but Five Hargreeves only had eyes for you.
In an insane, magical and inexplicable logic, Five had the purest certainty that it was your voice that called him in the wind, that was by the desire to touch your skin that his hands itched. Five would never be able to explain it to other people, but at that moment, there was nothing more concrete on Earth, in physics and science, than the certainty that was because of you that his soul felt, so many times, that he should be somewhere else.
Like the indubitability that you need oxygen to breathe, touching your skin has become just as indispensable. It was a matter of needing, something that now not only itched his hands, but corroded the bones in his fingers.
There was no reason for all those absurd feelings, Five had never even seen you before. But rationality had no space in that moment.
There, in that rift between the past, future and parallel realities, there was no discernment, lucidity, judgment. It was a hideaway free of any cohesiveness, with the smell of romance, an atmosphere full of emotion, passion and poetry. A distant era that allowed, for the first time in many years, that the soul of Five Hargreeves to take control of his body.
He moved, one step after another, his focus petrified on you. With each centimeter closer to your body, the more he felt able to breathe again, relieving the brutal anxiety that had been beating him for weeks, giving a truce to the martyrdom that  lacerate him day after day without even him even knowing why.
You had finished your dance, clapping along with the other guests for the orchestra that started the new melody, this time more lyrical.
Your hair, the tone of which seemed to be the personification of poetry, of art, was tied in a bun that allowed a few strands to fall under your neck, the skin of your bust was speckled with a few little droplets of sweat, the perfect amount to glisten under the yellowish light of the candles in the chandelier, making a divine, almost celestial aurora radiate from you. The dark blue gown referred back to the night sky in its greatest splendor, highlight your full breasts at the straight neckline and opening at the hips in a skirt that preached the illusion of you being floating across the hall. Your lips were a red that Five had never seen in his life. A red that seemed to exist only to serve you, enhancing the color of your eyes.
You were like a mirage. An oasis in the farthest desert. One of those paintings that people come from all over the world to see in person, capable of sweeping, taking they breath away, making they cry for having to live with the burden of never having the possibility of knowing you in life.
The romantic period was going on in that century, society was tired of trends in intellectual thinking, rationalization, industrialization and the veneration of science. People longed for an escape into emotionally charged images and fantastical fiction in the visual arts and literature. And Five Hargreeves was certain that you were one of the greatest inspirations of this movement. It was so clear that you were the influence of John Waterhouse's paintings, sweeping the hearts of artists and illuminating poets. Lord Byron was thinking of you when he created the short lyric poem “She Walks in Beauty”, completely fascinated by you.
That thought shuddered Five's soul even more. And an acidic emotion rose in his throat and burned his eyes. In his chest was injected the feeling that he was facing one of the greatest beauties in history, the person the poems and paintings were based on, the inspiration for so many names of literature and art that would become renowned.
There, in front of him, was more than a person. It was a piece of history, art, literature, a beauty that was immortalized and that would be admired even after centuries. Five had already gone to different times in the past, but nothing touched his soul as much as now. As much as you.
Five Hargreeves went in your direction like a sailor following a siren's song across the seven seas.
You were relatively distracted when he got to you. Lungs catching breath from the last dance, body preparing for the next, your mind was on that ballroom but your heart was far away. It was universally true that girls your age should revel in balls like this one. Full of potential husbands, dancing and music, governed by a perfect night for falling in love. You came to like it in the past, but now, after so many similar events, everything didn't have the same magic anymore. 
You've heard enough stories - filled with adrenaline, pirate ships and dangerous waters - to crave adventure in your life. It was also noticed that you spent too much time with your books, and that the consequence of spending so many hours in the fictional world brought you very high standards for men and love. The whispers through the darkened streets were that you would end up a spinster. Since you took no interest in any gentleman who courted your hand.
In your defense, it wasn't your fault. The men in your reality were terribly...tasteless.
That was until he showed up.
You don't know where he emerged, or what lineage he was from, much less his name. But he came towards you like that was more important than breathing. In a virile, perfect posture. As if he knew all the secrets of the world and was able to show you them.
One of the first things you noticed were the eyes. The room was partially dark, lit only by the flickering candles in the candelabra, but the darkness only made his eyes clearer. Intense greens. Of such a pure emerald tone that it shone like a mystical cat, calling you to sink in his greenish sea. The stranger had hair as black as midnight, which fell softly and romantically over a face with firm features; jaw as sharp as a razor and a nose full of masculine personality. Although was well dressed, all his clothes, with the exception of the white linen shirt, were as dark as the strands of his hair, something unusual among the sophisticated gentlemen who were invited.
Looking at that gorgeous face, you were left speechless. The deities had been generous to this man, gifting him with bold, aristocratic features and iris as green as Egypt's most precious jewels. The mystery and secrets contained within in those eyes were a fascinating contrast.
“Can I have this dance?” Just a sentence.
He didn't introduce himself, he didn't say who he was. He just dropped that sentence as if it was the only thing he really cared to say.
The gravity of his words made your heart flutter. What a beautiful voice that man had. With a provocative huskiness, a touch of superb, as if he were an oracle at his peak in ancient Greece. The sound seemed to seep into your body and run through you like warm honey.
The truth was, you had reserved the dance for another gentleman, but in that second, you couldn't care less.
“Of course, milord.” That's what you said, accepting the hand he extended to you.
Never taking his eyes off yours, an unfamiliar sensation washed over your mortal body and engulfed everyone around you. You wondered if it was just the stuff of your imagination or if he too felt the electricity whip through his body as he positioned you closer to dance.
Single women weren't allowed to touch men's hands if you weren't wearing gloves, and that rule had never bothered you. Until now.
Until be affected by an insane, visceral desire to feel that man's skin. Of experiencing the heat radiating from his hand against yours, of feeling those white fingers, slender and pale, holding your denude skin. You've never been touched by a man without a layer of clothing intervening. No brushing of elbows, no bumped of fingers, no errant caresses. And you wondered what it was about that man that made you aware of this deprivation. That stranger radiated secrets in an inexplicable but extremely palpable way in the air and you wanted to feel the touch of mystery on your skin more than you wanted to breathe. A will as strong as fear, as intense as hunger.
Your soul screamed in frustration because of the dress when his hand cupped your cover waist. In a touch so firm it only existed in the romance novels you read. Your heart raced, your breath disappeared, and you didn't notice when you rested your hand on his shoulder and your feet began to follow the rhythm of the waltz.
It was pathetic the intensity of your emotions for a man you had just met and didn't even know his name. But, it was like you'd found something didn't even know you'd lost.
Well… if it was the lack of knowledge of his name that was making things a little difficult…
“Aren't you going to tell me your name? Mine is Y/n”
Your voice, sweet as molasses, velvety as suede, made the hairs on the back of Five's neck stand on end. He recognized the timbre now, he had already heard you calling for him in the wind, but nothing surpassed hearing you from inches away.
This was one of those moments where, if you asked Five why he was doing this, he couldn't answer. He couldn't find any logical answers to his actions, reactions, thoughts. But, once again, this rift in space and time was an environment free of rationality. He didn't need this here. He felt he didn't need to. Not when had you in his arms.
A name…
Five Hargreeves was the name of a villain. Someone who would carry on his shoulders to the grave the weight of the thousands of souls he killed. Someone whose hands were marked, eternally, with thick, hot blood. A proof that his destiny was traced directly to hell. His name was the personification of a freak created to be a hero, an orphan in the apocalypse, a man who belonged nowhere in the timeline, someone without family for many decades.
He looked at the hands that held you. The hands of a serial killer. And then he looked at you, full of beauty, life, happiness and innocence. It was like committing a crime against nature to hold something so pure in such infamous, disgraced, death-scarred hands. And something inside he twisted with something like pain…disgust, for the fist time.
His soul didn't want to hold you in the hands of Five Hargreeves.
Five Hargreeves was the villain. And he didn't want to be that man right there.
His mouth, which looked so beautiful yet so dangerous, softly approached the foot of your ear, while the body of you two continued to follow the steps of the waltz. "We don't need names here."
A current of electricity slammed into your body like a whiplash from a live eel, raising goose bumps on parts of your skin you didn't even know you had. My goodness, it was a sin for a single man to have that much charm.
Sensible young women would have turned away at once. Practical girls who appreciated rationality, sincerity and transparency, who had no estimate for games, mystery and sensuality, would have rolled their eyes. But you were not sensible, practical or appreciative of the good customs of the epoch.
You were romantic, hungry for a good charade, adventure. And that man seemed to be built by those two things.
The world was just a shapeless blur, other people were no more than wandering silhouettes, and the atmosphere was enraptured by the flickering orange light of the candles in the candelabra. The smell was of poetry, romance and freedom, which intoxicated the brain and alcoholize any common sense. Was like a magical place in the middle of space and time, a rift that allowed just being. Time passed slowly, as if dancing together with you two.
 ‘One second can change many things...’
Just as Five could hear his father's voice saying 'I told you so' during his years in the apocalypse, he could hear his words now.
‘you can crumble empires, win battles...’
Five swirled you around before pulling you into his arms once more, his heart pounding with each passing moment. Neither of you realized it, but every second you spent together, every step, more messed up the timeline.
You smiled full of romance and magic as he leaned you back, his hand firm on your spine, bringing you to the surface and returning to dance around the hall with the waltz that dandle yours bodies.
‘you can fall in love.’
With every strong step the two of you took on the floor, in an apocalypse dance, realities were immediately misaligned. With each spin, lines of events were exploded into other universes. With each look shared, with each smile, with each heartbeat full of romance, people were erased, born, disappeared.
An apocalypse was brewing somewhere because of his hands on your body. A mystical waltz that brought the ascension of chaos in other timelines.
Neither of you two knew about it. But if Five knew, he wouldn't keep his hands off you anyway. Five Hargreeves was the villain in many realities. And he would accept the burden of being in a few more if it meant having you in his arms.
In an inexplicable and irrational way, what was happening now had more importance than everything he had ever lived and would live through in his entire life.
"You dance very well." You praised him, and his hands on you tighten a little more.
"No more than you". Then he gave that smile.
The half smile that lifted only one corner of his mouth. Malicious, sagacious, sphinx. Who promised to know all the mysteries of the world and show you all the sins of life. What man was that? So full of charm, sensuality, beauty. He seemed out of this world and you found yourself wishing that time would freeze in that moment, that you could hold onto your chest and live in that dance for the rest of your life.
There was something different in the air. A soul-deep feeling that whispered that your life would never be the same again.
Not after this man.
“It is not difficult to find women who dance.” You joked. "You've certainly danced with others to know."
Yes, with his mother and Allison.
But even if he had been dancing with all the women in the world, they would have disappeared in that moment. No memories memory experiences with other women could stand out at that moment.
"If I danced, they all disappeared the moment I waltzed with you." He realized he might have said the right thing, because he could see the breath go out of your lungs and cheekbones flush deliciously.
God in heaven… this girl was breathtakingly beautiful.
Five led you around the hall masterfully, committing your features to his mind like the tattoo on his wrist. Permanently, eternally. Suddenly, he was struck down by the insane desire to know more about you. To hear more of your voice, to taste the way the words flowed from your lips like the purest honey.
You were like a drug, an obsession. An addiction that had stuck with him since the first time he came into that century, since he breathed the same air as you, since he coexisted under the same night sky as you. There was insane logic in the fact that his soul felt your presence without even seeing you on that first mission. He would never be able to explain it, but somehow it made sense inside in him.
Five Hargreeves didn't think about what would happen when he had to leave. He didn't think about the withdrawal his body would suffer when he was away from you. Much less noticed the way there seemed to be something important in the air. If he had been in full intellectual faculties and grounded in rationality, he would have managed to understand that that something was the temporal lines collapsing, an apocalypse forming elsewhere, pure and perfect chaos destroying parallel realities.
But he was not being led by rationality. And even if he was, he wouldn't have minded a few worlds burning if it meant having you next to his body. He didn't care. But The Commission was a different case.
But Five Hargreeves wasn't thinking about any of that.
He conducted a conversation with you the way he conducted that waltz. He discovered that you liked the high seas even though you were never allowed to be on a ship. You loved nature and enjoyed good books. He heard your eagerness to know the world and learn about different cultures, that you wanted to unravel the mysteries of Egypt, see the architecture of Greece, visit Spain and wanted to go swim in the beaches of Brazil. You were an adventurer, and Five's heart skipped a beat for it.
But in a corner of his soul, deep down, he felt an ache reverberate through his bones. The urge to tell you about the world came with overwhelming force, and something inside him died when he realized he could never tell you the truth about the subjects you cared about.
He could never tell all that the world already knew about Egypt, about its tombs and its pharaohs. He could never be able to show the beauty of Brazil's beaches that become famous tourist spots, and he reserved a note in his brain that you would have loved to visit Genipabu in Brazil, a beach with huge sand dunes that seemed to be the junction of a huge desert whit a beach.  He could not tell you what science, oceanography and marine biologists already knew about the oceans. He could never say about the cruises that roamed the seas in all the luxury and comfort, much less about the planes.
Five Hargreeves would never be able to show you the world. And his soul decided to torture itself even more thinking about what it would be like if you were from his time. The things you would do, the freedom you could enjoy.
He could show you anything you wanted, tell you the secrets of the universe…His secrets.
When the waltz was over, on a note as dramatic as the situation, you couldn't say goodbye to him. Your soul, enchanted and completely enraptured by the man in front of you, vehemently refused to remove your hand over his. It seemed that every molecule in your body, every corner of your spirit, every fiber of your being, had defined that it was with that man that they wanted to stay. Forever.
What was foolish.
The truth was that the sensation of poetry, romance and magic that surrounded you two throughout the dance, had evaporated from the air like mist in the sun. Now the sure that you two weren't meant to be together hung in the air like a black cloud, thundering and flashing. This feeling oppressed you with an overwhelming force, so tangible it was possible to cut it with a razor.
No words needed to be said, but it was stamped into the environment, filling every millimeter and gap, putting that magical dance into a category that would never go beyond that: a dance.
A feeling of melancholy jabbed your throat like a scorpion's sting, injecting an emotion of sadness and helplessness into your blood like distilled poison. You didn't want that to be the end. You didn't want to say goodbye. Even with everything in the air indicating that whatever existed between the two of you, ended here, now.
Five's eyes seemed to exude the same as you. Feeling the end heavy and resounding in the air, reverberating like thunder, as every corner of his soul roared the opposite. The green sea of his irises looked like it was in the middle of a storm. Full of pain, anger. With colossal waves and revolts, which promised to destroy everything they saw ahead. Just like the oceans did in the apocalyptic events in the era of Younger Dryas.
Somehow, without having to utter a single sentence, you both knew you were feeling the same thing. Wishing, with all their might, that this wasn't the end, that they were able to hold time against their chest in a tight, desperate embrace, an attempt to freeze the pointers.
At that moment, Five clamored, to any god who would listen, that you not be taken from his arms.
However, like the evil joke that was his life, his thoughts were cut short by the chiming of the clock. 11 chimes. That echoed in his soul like the trumpets of hell, laughing at him, mocking him, making fun of a murderer thinking he would be graced with something like you.
Five Hargreeves was a villain. And he was destined to have the things villains deserve. And none of this things included someone like you.
In that sadistic moment, Five finally understood a sentence from one of the books Grace read to them at night; ‘If I were to kiss you then go to hell, I would. So then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without ever entering it.’
Yes. Now he understood. Five Hargreeves leaned in, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, laying a kiss that, however much it was impeded by the muslin layer of your glove, he prayed that this kiss could transmit all the feelings he could never say. This are the only kiss he could give you. That sentence echoed in his head like a fact, as sure as the sky is blue, as true as the salt in the oceans.
And when he went to the core of hell, paying for all his sins, he would brag to the other demons that he had been to heaven without ever having entered it.
You wish you'd said something, asked where he was from, stopped him from going. But none of that happened. This was one of those moments that we regret forever, that are branded in a red-hot iron in the soul, in the mind, in the body. Everything inside you was screaming to go after him when Five turned arund and walked into the sea of guests. But he disappeared in the waves before you could even move your feet.
No one had to tell you, but you knew you'd never see him again. And your heart would never beat for another.
-----------
Five Hargreeves has had to do a lot of horrible things over the years. Actions he wasn't proud of but he knew needed to be done, nights awash in blood and the smell of death.
But nothing has wobble him as much as you have.
His soul, body and mind, trained since he was a child not to develop any weakness that would prevent him from being a perfect hero, then perfected and aggravated by the Commission to be the unbeatable assassin, were rarely stirred by feelings.
He was cynical, hard-nosed, crotchety and arrogant. He never got carried away by emotions and, as much as his desire to save his family is pure, he will cross any ethical lines for the greater good. And all of that made him the Commission's best weapon.
Until now.
Until his emotions messed up not just one, but thousands of timelines. Created catastrophes, formed apocalypses, killed people. Hargreeves meeting you was something that could never have happened. Repudiated not just by nature but by the gods. Having you in his arms was like a crime against the timeline, against the balance of the world.
And heavens and hells would make him pay. With work, blood, or his heart. Promising to take not only the soul, but any hope of laying eyes on you once again. As Icarus had his downfall for the sun, so Hargreeves had for you. In a triumphal ruin.
“Do you have any idea what you caused ?!” It was the first thing The Handler said as soon as Five returned from his mission, seconds after he had killed his target.
Her voice was loud, suffused with anger and rage and… despair. Five frowned, soul still aching from having to leave you, your warmth still in his arms. He didn't have the head to deal with her right now. Not when he had so much to process.
“A death.”
“Don't play smart on me!” Her roar was loud enough for Hargreeves to realize that something really serious was going on. The Handler was many things, but she never got worked up without good reason.
The clatter of her heels echoed through the room as she walked towards him, her eyes full of fierce emotion.
“You had only one job to do! One! Kill the man and get out of there. Like always!" Her voice was as rough as desert sand. “But not only did you mess up entire timelines,  but created apocalypses on thousands of worlds that were to happen only thousands of years later!"
Five's mind was racing like a Catarina wheel, spinning at full throttle as it tried to put the pieces together. He blinked once, twice, his heart starting to race with the feeling that something devastating was about to be revealed.
He looked at The Handler, who understood his look. "That's right! Your little feat of dancing with that girl shattered thousands of timelines! People were killed, disappeared, events took a completely different course because of your little impertinence!"
She pulled his arm towards the thousands of screens that monitored infinite realities. And what he saw was chaos. Pure and perfect. Some worlds succumbed to fire, others to water, others to war. But they had devastation as a resemblance.
Five can hear the voices of other Commission workers in the background, in another corridor, other rooms. Some sounded desperate, others irritated, and others helpless, but all seemed concerned. He couldn't even say that he didn't know that little things had chain reactions. Because he knew. There was nothing to justify his actions, for he didn't even have a good reason for himself.
But the truth was, even staring the apocalypse in the face across nine different monitors, he felt no…remorse. There wasn't a part of him that would have done differently, that wouldn't have touched you, that wouldn't have known you. Deep in his soul Hargreeves knew he didn't care how many worlds he had destroyed just by touching you. He was going to hell anyway, it was better to have a memory of you to remember for eternity.
"...we'll have to kill her." It was just that sentence that Five's messed up mind paid attention to.
Then everything stopped.
The weather, the conversations. The world seemed to have held their breath, suspended, staring at Five. Everything inside him fell silent into scary silence, and he turned slowly toward The Handler, all his senses heightened, heart still, mind clear.
She seemed to notice his state. "What did you expect?! You know how things work. Causers of apocalypse get killed, that's our job! And because of that dance of yours, this girl has caused nine different apocalypses.”
There was a kind of insane, evil logic to the situation. The last riddle of gods and life to see Five Hargreeves on his knees. Broken, empty. To punish his sins, taking from him what he took from so many people. They engineered his downfall perfectly, writing with a red-hot iron on his soul the sentence that he could never be happy. His curse, the price to pay. Cosmic fit.
What the fucking hell.
“I'll send some agent to kill her immediately and...”
But Five Hargreeves has never been one to accept sentences imposed on him with his head down. Limitations, rules. He made his own destiny, no matter what he told him, and lived with the consequences. No god, destiny or universe dictated his life.
Everything inside him roared like a beast. Exploding, bursting, sending any control flying away. In an action without any hesitation, delicacy or ambiguities, his hand closed on The Handler's arm. In a firm, strong, tense grip that started hurt her very soon.
She looked at him in a mixture of shock and annoyance. There were very few people in the world willing to face a woman on her level, some too fearful, others who value life too much. But Five Hargreeves was none of those things. He'd never known any predator he should fear, everyone knew he was capable of anything and everything. Maybe there was no line he was able from crossing, or plan he wasn't capable of executing.
Five Hargreeves was the predator she should fear.
And The Handler realized that. For in that pair of eyes she saw danger, rage, pure and perfect hate. His sea of green gave way to red, glittering waves, shining with all the blood he had already spilled. And with a warning that he wouldn't mind spilling more.
“Stay. away. from. her. ” he guided each word with a tighter grip on her delicate arm, sure to leave marks that won't go away anytime soon.
Bewildered, she looked at him like a man possessed, filled with a rage that could fuel hell all by itself. The Handler had never seen him in that state, he was always angry, annoyed, acidic, but that… that was hatred, a bloodthirsty hate.
Five Hargreeves promised to go to hell and drag anyone with him without saying a word. 
For the first time in her life, The Handler was afraid.
“Five...you know her need to die...”
"Listen to me" He vociferate, shaking her by the arm. “I don't give a fuck what you have to say. I swear, for all that exists in this world, that if you lay one finger on her, there will be nowhere on earth you can fuck hide from me.”
Five Hargreeves was a tall, masculine man, wrapped in a macabre and sinister aura when he wanted to. He pulled The Handler closer, his face filled with colossal rage being etched like a tattoo into her soul.
“I don't give a fuck about how many worlds are ending, I don't give a fuck if fucking people are dying!  You won't touch her until the day I'm dead!  And you can bet that, even seven feet under the ground, I'll find a way to take you with me to hell if you do fucking something to her."
You were untouchable.
All of his work on The Commission was about killing a number of people to save even more. But he would never, ever, sacrifice you for the greater good. Not even if it meant millions of dead people. 
It didn't matter as long as you weren't one of the dead. 
Without waiting for further discussion, he led The Handler towards the exit door, leading her out of the room and locking the door when he returned. Five wasn't stupid or naive to think that she would follow his orders. The handler might be afraid of him, but she knew how to get what she wanted, no matter how long it took. And now that he'd bruised her ego, Five knew she'd make it her primary mission to kill you.
Something he would never let happen.
If someone asked where so much anger, so much sense of protection came from, Five Hargreeves couldn't say. Because he didn't even know. In the same way that he still didn't understand everything that had happened, everything that he had been feeling, he still hadn't reasoned where such primitive, territorialist impulses came from. He had no idea where it all came from, but he was sure he could never let anything bad happen to you.
In a twisted and somewhat obscure way, you had gained a villain as a protector. A fallen angel who didn't promise to do good to people, but only to you. Who swore allegiance not to humanity, but solemnly, exclusively, to you.
It was a sensation that filled his entire body like boiling lava. And Five put his hand in the fire for the certainty that he would never be able to get rid of his feelings for you again.
His soul said that, as long as he was alive, he would be yours.
Making his mind work faster than it ever had before, Five Hargreeves concluded that every record of you had to go. There could no longer be documents proving that you were part of humanity. That once you had a name, a house, a reality. Five would have to erase you from any and all records. Forever. The only way to keep you out of the hands of the people who had access to every form of terrestrial existence, was to erase you from the world. Only then, hidden from the Commission, could you live happily. Fully.
But throwing all your documents away was signing the sentence that he was took the risk of never getting to see you again. Without them, finding someone was nearly impossible, much less accessing their reality. Five could start a calculation to find you one day, but that could take years, ages, and even if he memorized your documents number by number, did the calculations and managed to get to you without any side effects, The Commission could follow him and find you. 
And finding a civilian's documents was much easier than finding a special agent like him and throwing them away too.
Once again, his life was a cruel joke of the gods, which served as entertainment for any higher power. Five strongly believed that, if there was anything above or below him, they designed his life for they own amusement.
Five Hargreeves spent hours in the file room, locked in that cubicle, not letting anyone in, not getting out. Once he disappeared with your documents, he would be declared a traitor and deserter, where his punishment would not only be more years of work, but death.
The world was spinning. Head ached. A sound gnawed at his mind, a scratch without melody, like a rustle of paper. Someone had taken a scream, a memory and a fear, crumpled it into a jagged ball, and used it to stuff  Five's skull. He need to think of a plan that covered all the rough edges, but his eyes were bombarded with futures he didn't want to think about. Every time he blinked he felt the tragedy lurking in a dark and dismal corner, ready to catch him in their sharp mouths and take him somewhere he feared to go.
A place where the worst had happened to you.
Suddenly, the world was filled with secrets, fears and terror. Just as his soul took control of him in that night, it was the same in this moment. Five Hargreeves wasn't someone to get carried away by anything, but the feeling that something very bad was about to happen to you haunted him to the bone. That would be the perfect ending to his sinful life story; having the one person who touched his feelings so powerfully killed in the same way he killed so many other people.
Life was taking its toll on all the things he had done. For a second, he was afraid of that reckoning. Because the worst is not the bullet hitting yourself, but someone you like.
The feeling outside of being torn apart. All the patches and pieces of what it was to be Five Hargreeves - which he had been painstakingly piecing together throughout his life - were coming loose again, all at once. The clock was ticking, the hours were ticking, and he knew that just as he was coming up with a plan, so was The Handler.
It was a macabre race against time, in which if he lost, he had the feeling he would never fully recover. Not without a part of his soul dying along with you.
When he found your documents, the photo they had of you was a portrait made in that last century, a small painting of your face, eternalizing your smile. Suddenly, the memory of how you'd smiled at him like that gripped him like a demon. And when the memories of you intensified, they brought no comfort, just only fear and dread. Five Hargreeves could not live with himself if those memories were tainted by the knowledge that he was the cause of his tragedy. He would never be able to remember those tender moments again if memories of you were vandalized by images of how you were killed.
It was too late to remedy the consequences of what he had unleashed. The macabre possibilities of what The Handler could do to you were there, tattooed on his brain, as if they would snap open and bolt to reality at any moment. So, as panic rose, Five Hargreeves' mind slammed shut like a heavy book. He wouldn't let any of that happen. Never.
After scheming and checking all the plans in his mind, Five decided that he had already orchestrated the almost perfect scheme. He would destroy all of your documents and, when he had done that, he could no longer remain on the Commission. Thus, he would steal the mission from one of the agents about killing John F. Kennedy, the time that most closely matched his calculations to return to the family in 2019. Then Five Hargreeves would evade The Commission and deal with them without being an employee anymore. And even if they went after him, they would never find you.
Not even Five.
And so it was done.
-----------
Five Hargreeves went through the reunion with his family, faced the commission agents coming after him to kill him, dealt with The Handler and put up with his siblings drama.
In a matter of weeks, he had already gotten himself into so much trouble and confusion that sometimes he didn't even have time to breathe. Processing events and digesting them had become a luxury he no longer had, and saving the world from one apocalypse and falling into another had seemed to become a family pastime.
But there were nights. Cold, when the moon reached its apex in the sky and the rain poured down on the ground, when he was finally able to be alone and clear his mind. In those rare moments, the only thing on his mind was you.
Always you.
His point of peace, his refuge from his constant stress and pressure was in the images of you. In the way your body fit perfectly in his hands, in the way your gaze, enchanted and completely shining, did not leave his. Five Hargreeves felt that, like him at that moment, there was no other place you would rather be.
Twenty years could go by, but he would still feel what it was like to have your warmth in his arms, in the smell that your perfume exhaled and in the way the candles in the candelabra glowed on your skin. You were like a goddess, dancing at that ball as if the world would never be graced with such beauty again.
When Five Hargreeves closed his eyes, he could see you perfectly. Swirling around as if the ground were your clouds and everyone there were mere mortals, watching what the angels in heaven looked like.
It was like a dark paradise. He managed to slake some of that suffocating tightness in his chest whenever he returned to those memories, but it resulted in more flagellations in his poor, tortured soul. The notion that he would never have anything but memories, dreams, and mowed wishes, would skin him alive until his last days. Five would forever be haunted by the notion that, even when he died, you wouldn't be waiting on the other side.
You would be in heaven. And he belonged in hell.
But, it was worth it.
All the pain, all the desperation his soul struggled with, all the shortness of breath that coiled in his lungs, all the feeling of being stabbed with a dagger knowing his would never lay hands on you again, it was all worth it when he reviewed your face in his memories.
Five Hargreeves didn't clamored for relief from his pain, balm for the cuts deep in his soul, a minute's mercy. No, he accepted all of his fate with his head held high. He clamored for you to be okay. Safe, happy. Free from any worries or tribulations. He wished you had forgotten about him, erased that night from your blood, because it would be impossible to live if he knew you were suffering just like him.
Five Hargreeves had never given you a single kiss, tucked your hair in his fingers and tasted your tongue, but he didn't need it. His soul didn't need that to fall madly in love with you.
Yes, pure and perfect passion. It was the only logical explanation for how he felt about you.
Even though he never tasted your skin in his mouth, or touched you without the interference of a piece of clothing, Five Hargreeves was in love with you.
And it would be for the rest of his life.
-----------
All the Hargreeves siblings thought all was well when the Commission was defeated and they got a briefcase to take them back at home. The nightmare of the second apocalypse had already passed and now the feeling that invaded their bodies was one of relief. For a second, Klaus thought that everything would now be back on track; with the family together, stronger ties and improved relationships.
Everyone thought so, actually.
The shimmering blue flash engulfed all the brothers, passing through the barriers of space and time, leaving the Hargreeves in the mansion where they grew up and spent most of their lives. Everyone looked happy, relaxed. And Five also shared the same relief.
Until that fateful moment.
Until a draft of wind enter through the window behind him and hitting his back, bringing a feeling that immediately made every hair on his body stand on end. In a matter of seconds, all sense of relief, calm, and peace were shattered, exploding one by one with the same aggressiveness of a nuclear bomb. The world seemed to stumble and stoped, the colors of the hemisphere fluidized into a vintage orange, flickering, almost as if the lighting came from candles.
As much as his siblings were laughing and making noises, everything for Five was quiet, in a tacit silence. The sound of cars on the streets did not exist anymore, the conversations disappeared, and, little by little, the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat. Increasing in tempo gradually, like a soundtrack.
Then, in the apex of silence, when Five could already hear the blood rushing through his veins, he listened.
Five.
Your voice in the wind, almost like a whisper. Calling for him. Just like you did a long time ago.
His soul gave a scream that shook him to the very bones, and he didn't notice when his eyes widened and his breath hitched. Suddenly, his whole body came back to life, being pulled sharply from the bottom of the ocean, submerging, desperately, breathless, astonished. Abruptly, the heat returned to his hands, to his cheeks, to his heart. Five could feel warmth coursing through his body as if they had rekindled the flame of his soul.
Was like resurrect.
He looked back in one jerk, spinning in place, heart pounding in his ribcage, his frantic, frantic eyes darting around every corner.
Nothing.
“Hey, are you okay?” Klaus looked back, focusing on his brother, but Five didn't respond.
He walked past Klaus as if he couldn't hear him, his eyes and hands trembling visibly, his step tight. Five chased the wind current as if he were chased his life, oblivious to anything or anyone.
His siblings, finding the situation strange, followed him without hesitation, accompanying the owner with green eyes entering more in the house. They had no idea what to expect, or what to think, but they stopped behind Five as he froze in the middle of the living room, eyes petrified, wide, fixed on a very specific spot at the top of the stairs.
But nobody noticed what he saw.
While all the Hargreeves were taken aback by Reginald's appearance in the outer corner of the room, stunned and petrified, growing more and more stunned as their father went on to explain the situation, Five couldn't take his eyes off the top of the stairs. Nothing in the world would have made him look elsewhere.
You.
You.
Fucking hell...you.
There, standing next to people he didn't care to find out who they were, looking down, observing at the people who had just entered.
Suddenly, everything inside him was whipped by currents of electricity, as if he'd been struck by lightning. An argument seemed to be brewing in the background, but Five Hargreeves didn't fucking care. May the world explode, may everything end up in dust, fire or water. He didn't want to know.
You were there. With the sunlight coming through the large windows behind your back, and illuminating your silhouette as if you were a deity, a goddess, a muse. You shone. Like the gates of heaven. At that moment, the soul of Five Hargreeves fell to his knees in front of you. For you.
An extremely strong emotion invaded him without asking permission, destroying everything he once was. Five felt like crying.
As a war in the background unfolded, the people who were beside you started to descend the stairs one by one. But he couldn't take his eyes off you.
“Five. Five.” Luther seemed to call out to him in the background, but he didn't care.
You walked down the steps the same way you glided through that ballroom, as if the floor were your clouds. Yours robes were uniform this time, but Five was pretty sure that behind that high collar, your skin harbored a birthmark on your collarbone. Your hair was down, but he knew how you looked with your strands tied up.
With each step you took, more his pulse quickened. It was like a dream, a mirage, his oasis in the scorching desert. At some point in the battle against the Commission he had died, and that was his dream.
However, Luther's hand gripped his arm, forcing his green eyes to meet his brother's.
“Dude, what's wrong with you? Didn't you hear dad saying that we're in another reality?”
“I am not your father.” Reginald countered. “Not in this reality.”
Five frowned, rationality slowly returning to his body, his brain taking over once more. A parallel reality. That explained a lot. A reality where…you existed.
Holy shit.
Someone said the Hargreeves had better go, and Five would have laughed out loud if he hadn't submerged in thoughts. If they really was in a parallel reality, that meant you didn't remember him. You didn't even know him. The version who have danced with him was still in another century, in a timeline far, far away.
But…Five looked up. You radiated the same beauty of the romantic period as before, your skin still looked feather soft, your lips still where able to take away his complete self-control, your eyes still have… the same glow that he remembered so many times during so many nights.
You didn't know him, but that didn't matter. Because Five knew you.
He suffered the worst of martyrdoms all this time, and now that he'd finally, finally found you once more, he wasn't going to leave. Even if it meant having to make you fall in love with him all over again. In fact, Five Hargreeves would dedicate his entire lives to making you fall in love with him all over again in every reality there is. He would have as many times as necessary a first dance with you.
He didn't realize it, but his lips lifted in a smile. In a snap of fingers, everything reached a apex, higher than the buildings, higher even to the clouds. All the problems evaporated like mist in the sun, and being in a parallel reality, with a father that wasn't his, in a house that wasn't the one he grew up in, seemed to be extremely insignificant.
For the first time in a long time, Five Hargreeves was happy. And nothing would change that.
That's when, amidst all the arguing the Hargreeves and Sparrows were having around, your eyes met his. And for him it was like coming home after an excruciating winter.
You cocked your head slightly to the side, intrigued by the way that man was looking at you so…surrendered. You understood the gravity of the situation, of those strangers breaking into your home and trying to claim everything as theirs. You were also irritated just like your siblings.
But... when you looked at that man… with eyes so green and hair so dark, something inside you caught your breath. A shiver went up your spine. And maybe you were crazy, but you can swear that felt your soul heave a sigh of…relief. A strange, emotional feeling reverberated through your spirit as if…somehow you'd just found what you've spent so long waiting to met again.
It don’t make sense.
As the confrontation unfolded between the two families, you couldn't help but notice that, minute by minute, you found yourself wanting to look at this man more. As if it were never going to be enough, as if the second you turned your head, you were overcome with an insane urge to see more. You should be focused on trying to get those strangers out of your house, not admiring one of them.
But Five realized that. A spark inside him vibrated with hope, and he delighted in being able to relive the feeling of what it was like to be looked at by you again.
But before he or you could even do anything, the physical feud between the two families broke out with astonishing speed, spreading like the plague. Diego, as usual, was the first to go into battle, followed by Luther and Allison.
See, you didn't consider yourself a confrontational person. Your peculiarity was to manipulate the natural elements and, although that made you one of the strongest figures among your siblings, you had a more adventurous spirit than a fighter. There was no such homeric thirst in your blood to be the best, the strongest, the most brutal. Ben said that was the most unattractive thing about you, but Sloane saw this feature with good eyes. Like you, she wasn't much inclined to brutality.
The fight drove you and Five away from each other, separated by rooms, siblings and war. You saw your family appeal to brute aggression very quickly, while, if you're honest, you didn't want to hurt anyone. Is trut that you were irritated by the way they claimed your house as theirs, but you didn't think they were bad people.
Or all this bland resolutions were for the fact that you didn't want to hurt him. Because, in some way you couldn't explain, you knew he wouldn't hurt you.
But that's when Alphonso yelled at you from upstairs. “Y/N! Do fucking something too!”
Everyone was scattered around the house, but you still remained downstairs, in the living room, arranging a way to help without being very aggressive like your siblings were being. You had no intention of killing or seriously injuring them, but you also weren't willing to put up with the scolding your brothers would give you if you continued to be omitte.
So, when one of the strangers came running to get away from something, the tail of his dark overcoat dancing in the air and his black hat toppling along the path, your reaction was to do the one thing that couldn't seem to do any real damage. In a wave of the hand, the windows were shattered by large, sprawling tree roots, that came out of the garden earth like thick snakes and entered the house in a steady stream.
The man gave a high-pitched scream, but his feet were already entwined by the roots and he was knocked to the ground. The roots, which spilled earth over the floor and exhaled a forest smell, wrapped themselves around the man's body up to his chest, with the only purpose of immobilizing him.
You weren't putting force or brutality, and you were sure the roots were just putting considerable pressure on, like a bandage around an injured arm. But the man didn't seem to notice this, because he kept screaming.
The fear should still be clouding his senses, and you revealed the situation. For it wasn't often that someone was wrapped around by giant roots that moved of their own accord. In your place, you would have reacted that way too.
“Hey, hey” you tried to get closer “It's ok, they won't hurt you and…”
But your speech was interrupted by shrill hum, which cut through the air with force and passed like a bullet in front of your face, shaking a few locks of your hair. The speed were frightening, and for a second your heart stopped in your chest. The fright made you take two steps back immediately, but in a matter of seconds any feeling was replaced by a very strong burning in your left cheek. In the same second, a hot liquid began to ooze from your injured skin like water in a current, spreading pain wherever went.
Two seconds that were able to put you face to face with death. Because that attack was not joking.
The bearded man ran to help the one who was lying on the ground, forcing his freedom between the roots that were now weak due to your distraction.
Unlike you, Diego didn't care about the things he had to do to save his family. He was willing to injure, inflict permanent damage, even killing if that was the only way out. He would have a guilty conscience later, but in the heat of the moment, he wouldn't hesitate. Diego did this to the Commission agents hours ago, and he would do this to you if he had to. As sure as the sky was blue, the Sparrows were the enemy. And he was the hero. Thats it. Two polar opposites, destined to face each other into the death.
And that was why he didn't hesitate to attack when he saw Klaus lying on the floor, screaming as if he were being killed. After getting a small taste of the kind of things your powers were capable of doing, it was pretty clear that you were one of the first ones that needed to go down. So Diego didn't hesitate either when he pulled Klaus off the ground, and wielded yet another dagger. Aiming not to hurt, but to kill.
But love could drive even the smartest minds crazy.
Because when the dagger was thrown in the air, a blue flash invaded the scene and a male body enveloped yours, pushing both of you aside in a rough, protective, intense gesture.
Five Hargreeves was on the stair railing, fighting Jayme, when Klaus's screams grab his attention. He didn't have much time to process what he was seeing, but the moment one of Diego's daggers slashed across your cheek, the primal, visceral instinct he'd felt so long ago, with The Handler on  The Commission, roared through him like an angry beast. So when another dagger was wielded and thrown into the air, he didn't think twice, didn't hesitate, didn't blink.
Dropping everything behind, Five Hargreeves dove into the blue flash, having you as the only focus in mind.
As soon as the crash of his body with yours caused you both to leave the deadly path, the arms, masculine and wide, wrapped around your back as if he were holding the only anchorage on the high seas in the middle of a storm. His heart was pounding in his chest, and as much that adrenaline, primal instinct and rage were bubbling through his body, he still managed to feel his soul sighing in deep relief when felt your warmth again in his arms.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"
Diego's angry roar seemed to shake the walls, but didn't stop the obstinate, angry look that swallowed Five's expression.
“Diego…” his voice didn't match the situation the Hargreeves found themselves in. His tone was serious, steady, so calm it was terrifying, like the warning of darkness to the light. “Stay away from her.”
His brother's confused and perplexed look couldn't have been more accentuated. And even Klaus, known for being the least serious about situations, looked completely astonished. Five Hargreeves didn't held you like he was preventing a murder. No. He held you like Cerberus should have held the only person he was ever loyal to.
"You are fucking crazy?!" Diego gestured with his hands “Let go the enemy now!”
The Hargreeves have been through a lot, seen a lot. Many of them being absurd, beyond any rationality or law of physics, moments in which they had to deal with situations that were not possible to be of this world. But nothing, and no one, could have prepared Diego and Klaus for what they heard from Five;
"Never."
The moment was dispersed when Viktor appeared in the room, shaking, hurt, out of his mind. His head fell back in a single gesture, his arms opened up and the fists closed, as white lights began to shoot out from within his eyes and chest.
Five Hargreeves knew what that meant.
He didn't think twice before running to the side,  hiding you behind the bar counter and lowering you two bodies to the floor. His body in front of yours, blocking access to the roughest impact in you.
You two had three seconds, three seconds to look into each other's eyes before the flash explodes. And in that three seconds, the only thing that passed in the soul of both of you was the feeling of finally being where should be.
-----------
"They're stupid villains who think they're smart!" Ben was furious in the kitchen, pacing back and forth.
The last few days had passed like this. With Ben angry about the invasion, Ben angry about the fight, Ben angry about Marcus disappearing, Ben angry about... well... he was always angry.
Of all your siblings, he had the worst temper. Fei and Christopher were practically his dogs, going along with all of Ben's stupid plans just because... you really didn't know why they followed him so fervently, but had a theory that it was because they both thought they would have more power when Ben's plans came to fruition.
A hierarchical system that filled the family with toxicity.
On the other hand, there were Jayme and Alphonso. You never really understood the two, but you described them as bullies. A duo who liked the power they had and how they managed to exert it over people.
The only one you could relate to more deeply was Sloane.
"It would have been better if Y/n had made an attack." Alphonso brought your name up in conversation, his gaze full of rancor.
"Fuck off, asshole" It was the only thing you deigned to say, because you didn't have the patience to deal with his comments at the time.
The truth is, since the invasion, you couldn't get him out of your mind.
It was like a drug, an addiction, that had seeped into your blood from the first time you laid eyes on him. There was something there, something you could never explain. He should be the enemy. Your enemy. But…
The way he saved you from the knives, the way his arms wrapped around you. Almost like he already knows how to hold you. How to protect you.
Your heart couldn't slow down whenever your thoughts returned to that man. From the memory of him placing his body in front of you, standing at the forefront of the explosion.
He saved you. Everytime. And there was something that told you he would save you every chance he got.
The truth was…you wanted to see him. Know his name. Talk with him. There was no longer a fiber of your being that saw the situation as your siblingsdid, your body was facing the complete opposite north.
You wanted to touch him, not fight with him.
When time passed, and Luther showed up at the mansion as someone who was kidnapped, you, again, did not see the situation as a beneficial opportunity for your family. But for you.
Suddenly, your entire soul was gripped by a completely unsettling anxiety that made your hands itch, stomach churn, and your legs unable to stay still. Then you were swept by a feeling of deep sadness, as if you'd already experienced what it was like to spend your whole life wanting to see that man and never getting.
There was no more logic, rationality or coherence to what you were feeling, but finding him was as indispensable as breathing.
That's why you volunteered - more like an imposition - that you would be the one to escort Luther home the moment Ben said he could leave.
“It was kind of you to accompany me” The blond man smiled at you, as the two of you walked through the night streets.
"It was nothing." You tried to sound casual, but with every step toward your destination, the more your hands itched, the more your heart was racing, and in a moment, you found yourself picking up the pace to get there faster.
“I have to confess that you were a topic of discussion between my brothers.” Luther laughed, his odd way of bringing up the subject and not mincing words.
But that got your attention. "What do you mean?"
“A-ahem…well…from what I understand, Diego wanted to kill you, but Five stopped him and…”
Five…Five
His name was Five.
Something inside you stirred. An unfamiliar emotion, but one that made a smile rise to yourcheeks.
“Five” you tried to say aloud, and his name just… felt right on your lips.
You went the rest of the way not being able to pay attention to a single syllable Luther was saying. You don't wanted to be rude, but you just… couldn't stop thinking about Five.
“How long before we get there?” you cut off something Luther was saying about Sloane, and the blond eyebrows drawing together in strangeness.
“Actually” he looked at the big hotel in front of him “We already arrived and…”
But you couldn't stop yourself. All of your muscles felt like they had undergone countless electrical discharges, your heart was faster than any living soul has ever been, and your blood was rushing through  your veins like marathon runners. You increased your pace considerably, quickly climbing the steps and opening the doors of that building as if you had just walked through the gates of paradise.
You needed to see him.
Luther came up behind you, giving you a suspicious look and walking towards a bar, where the outlines of several people were talking.
-----------
"I returned." Luther's voice brought Five out of his thoughts, and a part of her brain tried to remember the time his brother had left.
And he didn't find any answers.
To his defence, Five's mind had been elsewhere these days. Moments when he rewound in his mind once, twice, three times. Not even the impending new apocalypse knocking on the door seemed to have any effect on Five. To be honest, he… saw no point in trying to save the world this time. Meeting you once was a miracle, but meeting you again, in an entirely different reality and without The Commission making things difficult, seemed like too much of a luxury for him to ignore.
The truth was that in the first attempt to escape the apocalypse he ended up sending the family to different times, with intervals of years between each one. And, deep down, he didn't know if he could handle trying to take you with him to another reality and end up losing you too.
Five had been through this once before. He knew pain too well not to be willing to risk it.
“What is the enemy doing here?!"
Diego's voice snapped Five out of his thoughts, and an electric current shot through his head and reverberated down to his toes. Immediately, without any hesitation, his eyes flew away, finding not just Luther - whit several bags in hand - but you beside him.
You.
Something inside him ignited, his heart raced and, for a moment, the whole world around him fell away.
But just for a moment, because Diego was already getting up from his seat.
“Hey. Hey!” Five teleported away, once again placing the body in front of you . “What the hell do you think you are doing?”
“What would anyone do to the enemy! What are you doing? Defending a stranger again?!"
“She is not a stranger, Diego. Now be quiet in your place before I have to do it for you.”
"She is not?" Klaus and Viktor said in unison
"I'm not?" Your voice, the only one that mattered to him, came from behind his back, quieter than the others but loud enough for him to hear.
Five turned towards you, turning his back on his siblings. Unlike how he looked at Diego, his eyes held all the softness and attention in the world when they met yours. A small smile appeared at the corner of his left mouth, a secret smile, hidden from the world but revealed only to you.
"It's a long story," he admitted, having no idea how to start. How to tell something that even to him don't make sense.
“I came to see you.” you rewarded his honesty with another truth, a gleam crossing his eyes like shooting stars. “I have time to listen.”
A smile blossomed on his lips, and Five was overcome by the purest feeling of happiness. Without saying anything, or giving anyone satisfaction, his hand laced into yours, and he disappeared with you in the blue flash.
-----------
Any sensible, practical, centered woman, would have laughed at what Five had just told you. Anyone who didn't get carried away by matters of the heart and didn't believe that two people, when destined to be together, are helped even by the wind, would have turned around and walked away.
But you weren't a sensible woman, nor practical, much less centered. Your being was composed of romance, adventure and magic. You fervently believed in destiny, soulmates and that some loves are capable of overcoming the barrier of space and time.
What's more, if all that wasn't enough, you also felt, from your soul to your bones, sensations that couldn't be explained. Feelings he was also saying he felt too. You believed in him. And that fact came as soft as the droplets of dew, as the brightness of the moon.
After his account came to end, with him letting himself be vulnerable in telling all the thoughts that ever crossed his mind about you, the urge to say just one thing screamed your blood rumbling. “You’re no the villain in my story” your words hung in the air.
“I am,” Five's voice brimmed with a liquid honesty that was able to chill your bones, but nothing in his words hinted at remorse for the things he'd already done. “But i'll be the villain for you. Not to you. I'll let worlds burn again if it means keeping you alive. In a problematic way, that I'll never be able to explain, I don't feel guilty about doing something if it means your safety.”
Five Hargreeves expected many things. Many different reactions. Many words of contradiction. But never what happened next.
Your mouth, without any hesitation, joined his in a kiss that was capable of making his world explode. His body was ignited by a fire that swallowed even his soul, washing away all his sins and giving a demon a taste of heaven.
So what was it like to kiss a goddess? An angel, a muse.
If before, without even touching your skin without the interference of clothing, Five would have happily accepted going to hell, now, with your hot mouth melting into his like warm honey, he would accept the torture of eternal fire with a smile on his face.
And when the small kiss intensified into something much bigger, his hands, warm and masculine, wrapped possessively around your waist. There was no going back. There was no turning back. Five would keep you for himself in the same selfishness that a villain steals a princess. And there was no hero in the world capable of pulling you away of his clutches.
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He found the last bit of strength to let you know when your hands untied his tie “I could really hurt you.”
But all good intentions evaporated when your eyes, eager and full of desire, blinked at him. There was an addictive sweetness in that look. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the way your eyes held tinges of delicious submission but hid an incendiary fire behind them.
Fucking damn. He wanted you so badly.
"I don't care." Your breathless whisper invaded the room. But he didn't know if you understood the seriousness of the situation.
“Y/n.” his hands cupped your face. “I spent a lot of time contenting just for the way you looked at me. Spending sleepless nights reliving what it was like to feel the contour of your waist in my hand.” His voice was serious, deep, rough like sand scraping against stone. “Do you have any idea of the things I'm going to do to you now that I can finally, finally, have you?” his pitch lowered a few notes, like a predator talking to its prey.
You didn't know it, but only imagination made yours thighs tighten.
“I can destroy you.” his lips went to the foot of your ear, down to the curve of your neck, inhaling  your scent and tasting you. “I can leave your body purple, your breasts bitten, your hips marked by the aggressiveness of mine whenever I enter on you.”
A moan escaped your mouth, fingers tightening on his arms, head lolling to the side.
Oh lord, please he do that.
Five's hands went up to your shoulders, in a touch that became more and more possessive, gluttonous, as if he wanted to swallow you.
“I can spend hours fucking you.” his fingers lowered the straps of your dress, letting the fabric fall unceremoniously to the floor. Five pulled his face away enough to be able to look at your body fully, and a husky growl followed right away. “I can kill you.”
Here, in that moment, Five Hargreeves was giving you one last chance to give up, to make him tame the villain he was and who would destroy you for any other man.
If you slept with Five Hargreeves, you would never stop being his.
"Do it." but you didn't have an ounce of self-preservation in the inner body "please."
You didn't have to beg twice. His hands pulled your legs up, making you place your feet on his hips and hug him with your legs. Your back hit the closed bedroom door as Hargreeves' mouth claimed all it could of his. Twisting your tongue around his, biting and sucking on your bottom lip, he was beginning to mark you as his in a single kiss.
“You have no idea how much I want you.” his confession was more of a hoarse groan, hands fumbling with his belt and lowering the waistband of his pants.
Under other circumstances, he would have sucked you until drive you unconscious, pushing your walls with his fingers until you begged for his cock. But he didn't have the presence of mind to do that now. Not now. Not today. He warned of the consequences of wanting to continue at that moment. But you wanted, you begged, and now he was no longer afraid of being able to fuck you with all the vehemence he needed.
Your moans invaded the room very quickly, your waist, even if limited by the door, moved in his groin, exorcising any common sense and control that Five once had.
He pushed your panties to the side impolitely and entered you in one single, glorious, primal thrust. His cock slid in with extreme ease, being completely soaked by the way your pussy was so slick.
“Oh fucking hell” his growl sent even more waves of pleasure to your uterus, and you pressed your mouth to his neck to keep from screaming.
That's when he withdrew and pushed himself into you. Strong, brute. Hitting until found the bottom of the well. His thrusts began relentlessly, thrusting in and out of you aggressively, possessively, almost animalistic. Five's hands were all over yourbody, fingerprinting every bit of your flesh. The nails digging into your waist when you contracted and squeezed him within your plush walls.
“Fuck. fuck.” his groans mingled with the attrition of the bodies of you two against the door, which sent loud, telltale noises throughout the  hotel.
But you would rather die than stop.
His cock suddenly hit a place that made your moans come out too loud. Tears began to pool in the corner of your eyes, and your toes curled.
“Oh do you feel this, baby?” Five teased you, digging himself as deep as possible anatomically and rubbing the tip of his cock there, eliciting sly, desperate cries from you  "That's your cervix."
Then he went back to fucking you aggressively, this time pulling his chest away from you and digging his hands hard into the flesh of your hips, pulling you towards him at a intensity that could only be described as animalistic.
This was better than anything he had ever tasted in his life. Better than any sin. Better than any whiskey.
His cock desecrated your pussy like it was the only thing that mattered in the world, pulling thick liquids out of you that enveloped him in pasty white rings. Five Hargreeves would ensure that whenever you thought of any man, your mind was invaded by the way he fucked you.
"I will… I will…" your tearful voice blended with the noise of the door slamming and your bodies bumping into each other.
“Thats right, baby” his mouth covered your “cum for me. cum so I can fill that gluttonous pussy with my cum.”
If the way he thrust in and out of you wasn't enough to make you come, his lines had done the job. You came in a glorious explosion of stars, colors and sensations. Your body contracted with absurd force and relaxed like the best of massages. Your arms went limp around his neck, and you could feel his cock tremble and the hot, thick liquid fill your entire pussy.
The noise of the door stopped, his moans calmed down and now the only thing that could be heard was the heavy breathing in the air.
You thought it was over, until Five climbs a hand to your neck and lets out  a broken growl "'You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat, baby."
His cock moved inside you, moving in and out smoothly, pushing his cum even deeper inside you. Make sure you gobble it all up.
“Did you think we were done, princess?” he chuckled evilly, his lips moving closer until they were inches from yours. "I'm just getting started. I'm going to show you how much I've wanted you this whole fucking time.”
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coffee--writes · 7 months
Text
Graceland Too
Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: Mentions of Abuse, Violence, and Drug Use (Not by Reader or Five)
A/N: This is inspired by Graceland Too by Phoebe Bridgers. The lyrics are italicized!
Summary: Five Hargreeves embarks on a mission with you, a Commission mystery.
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Five Hargreeves had not been there when you arrived with scars on your skin and your lips in a thin line. 
Although he hadn’t been there, he had heard all the stories. 
You were a Commission daydream. You were hard as steel. Took orders without a second thought. No one ever broke through that stony exterior of yours, something the two of you had in common. But that didn’t stop the stories from getting around. That day you showed up scarred and cold, you had been running from something. Abusive family, violent parents, constantly cracked up or hungover. No food on the table, barely a warm sheet to cover you at night. You had been in and out of depression. In and out of your mind. 
Then one night, things changed. 
The night you decided you were no longer a danger to yourself or others. 
You made up your mind that night, the night your parents didn’t show. You laced up your shoes, yelled down the hall of your crumbling apartment building. Nobody answered. So you walked outside without an excuse to stay. That night, as you stumbled through city streets, starving, thirsty, bruised, defeated… the Commission saved you. 
You were everything they could’ve wanted. A clean shot of an assassin, a hardened soldier loyal to its infantry. You spoke little. Friends were out of the picture. Another thing, you and him had in common. But one thing was never doubted , that you could do anything you wanted to. One of the highest kill counts, most assignments completed, employee of the year. 
A Commission daydream. 
Your story was infamous. It was one Five Hargreeves resonated with, admired. After all, his family had never been the definition of functional but at least he had had people to call home. Your story ran through his head as he stood outside the Handler’s office listening to your voice, quiet but firm. Your voice never raised and he wondered how you did it. He was indulgent to his anger. It was the driving force behind every kill, every shot. But even as you argued, the Handler’s voice becoming increasingly frustrated, yours never raised, not a decibel. 
The result of the argument over this particular assignment had ended in your favor. Not a shock, you could do whatever you wanted to do. A high-end assignment could easily be won in your favor. What was a shock was you approaching Five, paper in hand. 
“Boss says I’ve got to have a partner for this one.” you state blankly, sliding the paper across the lunch table to him. “How about it, Hargreeves?” 
He blinked, reading the paper, glancing up at you. Another thing Five knew about you, you could go home. The Commission had signed off on it, the works and all. But no, you stayed. Dedicated as ever before. The thought ran through his head, your eyes glared into his. You could go home, but you weren’t going to. 
He didn’t know what prompted him to state a firm, “Sure”. Maybe it was the cold, blank stare in your eyes. Maybe it was the quite beautiful, stoic impression you had. Like the marble of a Greek statue, depicting some tragic tall tale. But whatever it was, it earned him a delicate smile. “Thanks.” you replied, leaving him wondering what on Earth he had gotten himself into. 
—— 
Traveling with you, he learned you weren’t all you were made out to be. 
Sure, the quiet, cold exterior was still there. But upon first glance, he noticed the slight care you put into things. The way you packed two mugs of coffee as opposed to just one. Not a word said but the action said enough. The way you meticulously packed each and every item you brought, making sure to extend the same courtesy to his belongings. 
Small things really, but it said enough. 
So you picked a direction, foot pressing down on the gas pedal of the 1977 Ford F-150 you had chosen out of a random parking lot. You were going 90 in Memphis, turning up the music. An old Van Morrison song, he could recognize the voice. It reminded him of his sister. 
“Why so loud?” he ventured to ask. 
Your eyes never left the road. “So thoughts don’t intrude.” 
He blinked, not sure of what to say. You raised the coffee mug to your lips and he was once again reminded of the one you had brought for him. It raised a curious thought in his head. “Not an easy thing to just not think.” he remarked. 
You glanced at him, almost as though you were taking him in. “I’ve managed.” you said plainly. A moment of silence went by. “Although, I will say Hargreeves you’re making it quite difficult to not think of anything with all your yapping.” 
He chuckled, eyes peeled towards the rising sun. “Well what are you thinking about now that I’ve disturbed your peace of mind.” 
Your lips turned up slightly, almost sadly although it was a smile. “Predictably, I wound up thinking of Elvis.” you chuckle softly. It was the first time he had heard you laugh. It was a nice sound, comforting almost. Somehow reminded him of home. 
“Why Elvis?” he asked, a slight smile coming to his face. 
You took one hand off the wheel, shrugging. “Mom always had it on the few times she was around.” you remarked. He noticed the way your lips curved as you spoke. The one small notation of emotion in your face, the one thing that gave you away. “Plus I wonder if he believes songs could come true.” 
Five’s brows furrow. Your hand drums on the middle compartment of the truck. “Well, he spouts all this bullshit about love. Shit, he made a career off of it. But does the man actually believe in it? Love?” 
“I don’t know.” he commented. “I mean I don’t think you have to believe in something to sing about it. There are thousands of others who wrote about it so I’m sure he had plenty of background to work with.” 
You scoffed. “Well, then that would be plenty sad. I’m usually a cynic but I’d like to believe the man who wrote some of the most notable love songs the world’s known to have believed in it himself.” 
“We’re in a world full of copycats and unoriginal imbeciles. The chances that Elvis believed in love songs is slim.” 
At that you gave a laugh, a full bellied laugh. He looked up quizzically. Your face scrunched up as you did. The marble statue seemed to have melted into a beautiful glaze of colors. Five delighted in it. The fact that he had made your statue slightly crack and crumble. You had done the same to him, if he were being honest. 
“And I thought I was the cynic.” you smirked, cheeks lifting ever so slightly. You sigh, looking at the sunrise with a sense of warmth. A nostalgic pull in your eyes. “All I’m saying is I’m asking for it if they do. Those love songs, I mean.” 
Five nodded briefly, his eyes also glancing out at the sun. 
“Have you ever loved someone like that?” 
“No… have you?” 
“No.” 
The silence lay steady as you went ninety in Memphis. 
—— 
The two of you stopped at a 7-Eleven, dead of night. The bright fluorescent lights blinked as you walked through, taking a grab at the edible things that stuck out to you. When the two of you arrived at the register, your hand moved to your pocket. A ten and a five folded up nicely. There you were again, doing the thing he got such a mental kick out of. He had come prepared but it hadn’t even occurred to you to ask him for money. 
You handed the cash to the man at the register, the same stony expression on your face. 
A beautiful thin line. 
There you were, paying for his things. If it were anyone else, he would’ve rejected this action. He would’ve seen it as a one up, a power dynamic, a petty maneuver. But with you, he realized it seemed to be your nature. There was a gentle nurturing you hid beneath your surface. 
Five desperately wanted to know more. 
You sat at a shitty table, wobbly with faded seats. You bit into a burger, silence hanging in the air almost peacefully as it always seemed to do with you. He looked down at his coffee and bagel. “Why’d you take this?” he asked quietly. “I mean… this assignment.” 
You blinked, eyes vacant and blank. It was as though you were conjuring an answer to that yourself. As if, you still didn’t know the answer to it yourself. He was slowly beginning to realize that maybe you didn’t know what you wanted. 
Your composure slacked, putting down your burger. “Better than nothing.” you responded, taking a sip of coffee. “This is my job. Might as well take the interesting ones.” 
The lights seemed to blink with the slow pace of his heart. He took a bite of his bagel. “What are you going to do… after this is all over?” 
You frown, as though the next thing that you were going to say would make you sad. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” 
He took a quiet sip of his coffee. “Me neither.” 
The silence lay peacefully thick once more. 
You were a rebel without a clue.
——- 
Traveling with you only made Five more enamored with your presence. 
You were gentle. Quite the opposite of him, actually. Sure, both of you were statues, cracked and slightly damaged, depicting a long life of sorrow. But you had a gentle warmth beneath the surface which Five rejoiced in. 
The truck was filled with music as you went along. Sometimes you talked, other times you didn’t. You were there though. Present, in the moment. You pulled him back to Earth when his head seemed to wander off. You were deep, intellectual, interesting. 
All the little things you did only made him admire you more. The way you quietly filled the gas tank. The way you flipped the pages of your book when he drove. The cadence of your voice, the vocabulary you used. The sad peaceful look on your face after a clean shot, the way your finger rested on the trigger. 
A peaceful kind of falling. 
One night, the two of you stopped at a motel. The night was dark, the stars shining brightly over an Alabama sky. Two beds, a small television that played old reruns of fifties sitcoms. “This is oddly nostalgic.” you commented. “Reminds me of home.” 
It was one of the rare times you talked of home. He smiled softly. “Reminds me of home too… Maybe we can make the most of it.” 
That night, you spent what was left of your serotonin. The motel door lay wide open, the laugh track on the television muffled as you sat on the second floor balcony. Both your backs lay stiff against the brick wall. 
Five looked over at you, and you were gorgeous. 
You chewed on your cheek and stared at the moon. “Hargreeves, I’ve got a confession.” 
He blinked, looking over at you. The moonlight seemed to illuminate your graceful features. “What’s that?’ 
“I know I lived through it, all that pain… I lived through it to get to this moment.”
“This mission?” 
You nodded. “With you.” 
Five paused, his breath seemed to hitch in his throat. You glanced over at him. “I’ve got to say… I kinda like you, Hargreeves.” 
He didn’t know words could mean so much. They were simple, short, barely a sentence. But you had said them and he knew from even the brief conversations with you, that you said what you meant. His lips upturned slightly, not enough to give him away. “I kinda like you too.” 
Silence ensued. Five had a handful of grapes in his hand. You ate a sleeve of saltines on the floor. No proof of anything, not much said. But what was said was enough. In that moment, Five knew: he would do anything you wanted to. 
You didn’t demand much. Maybe that was how people realized they would do anything for someone. Because they wouldn’t demand something irrational for them? Maybe that’s what made the few irrational demands doable? He realized he would do anything for you. 
Whatever you want. 
You looked over at him, a slight smile. “I Love Lucy marathon?” 
He couldn’t drag his eyes away from your face. 
“Whatever you want.”
… 
Whatever you want. 
——
No tags except @olive-recs because i literally don’t know if any of my other mutuals are active 🕺
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itsbuckytm · 2 years
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A sleeping partner | Five Hargreeves
Summary : Small Prompt : In which the reader is sleep deprived and often sleeps when can even during the day.
Enjoy 🤍✨
• Sleep. A word none of the Hargreeves have been heard for probably a decade from now and so did you. After meeting the Sparrows, saving the world and with a god awful need of an appetite, technically finding a shelter to relax was the priority before going to paranoia. Thanks to Klaus’s help in guidance when he admitted knowing a place where it required a matress, a shower but most importantly a buffet and a bar. The hotel Obsidian it was.
• When checked in and with a god awful way of seducing the hotel’s clerk into thinking a nice watch could possible rant the family two rooms, with full beds. The family somehow find it rather peaceful to be able. Even if it meant to be stuck in an not so elegant place. After all, if it meant to decompress just for one night it wouldn’t kill anybody right?
• Five on the other hand for once, loved the idea of staying. In fact, his retirement felt quite nice for once. A nice shower, a bed and you what else could he ask for more. Not that he would’ve love to share a single room with one matress and without his brothers intertwining in his way, but seeing you so vulnerable while you slept next to him made him forget everything. So easily that he himself found himself at peace by embracing you closer into his warmth.
• During missions, Five glimpse at your direction at times to times to make sure you were okay. Often thinking that if he did leave you for at least two minutes, were to found you sleeping in whatever god’s forsaken place with no question asked. Either way, he knew that dealing with someone who required sleeping a lot was not only oddly and yet with the family he had, nothing surprised him at this point.
• Sometimes, when needed when for once required a break could found Five sitting in the lobby’s couches reading or working on whatever had come to his mind that day. A coffee in hand now cold by the slow drinker you are sat down to join him and silently admired him working. Weirdly enough he did enjoyed seeing you admiring him or even curiously glancing at time to time at the amount of work he did. Not that this was a sign for you to nudge him into spending more time with you, but also seeing your eyes sparkles every time you learned a new word got him to think he had never fell in love this hard. Not even with a damn mannequin.
• A busy Five also meant having to be patient. Which in contrary you weren’t. Mind you were also sleep deprived by the events and so, staying awake for even just a little while turned out to be nightmarish when out of boredom end up sleeping next to him. Heck sometimes, laid your head on his shoulders and leaned to have a petter position not trying to irritating him too much by his concentration.
• Five noticed right away. Often when he could not so long before seeing your eyes closing, smiled to himself into thinking how adorable you were. He would often also leaned to press a few kisses making sure you were comfortable before any of his siblings could catch him being lovey dovey. And if to happened, he made it damn sure that his siblings or anyone were to eat their own shits. As for you, at the end of the day when the work finally done, were to found sleeping calmly in each other’s arms finally able to relax without a mess in the world.
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igotanidea · 1 year
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We're all broken here: five hargreeves and reader.
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Summary: Five is known to say exactly what is on his mind, even if it may hurt someone else. What if he takes it too hard and aim at the one person he really cares about. Will she understand?
A/N: This is just some story focused mostly on family relationships and supporting each other. no romance, just brother-sister stuff. Located somewhere in season 1. no "y/n"s
***
„Shit! Why you gotta be so stupid?!”
This last words echoed through the rooms and hallways of Hargreeves mansion leaving all of the siblings frozen. Despite the fact that Five was the one to use them he already regretted it.
“Eight, I …” he stuttered
“No. You  know what, it’s fine. I’m stupid and you’re mean. Let’s settle here and move on. No sorries, no I didn’t mean it, because for a matter of fact you did mean it.” It took all of her courage and inside strength not to fall apart at this adjective. She was used to being called weak, pathetic, distant, unattractive and plump and that did nothing to her. Aiming at her intelligence however, the only thing she was building her confidence on was just too much. But of course she would never let her idiotic 80somethign year old brother in a kid’s body know that.
“Eight….”
“Save it. We are good. I’m gonna go, but by all means you stay here.”
“Oh, no, honey, wait, wait for me! I’m not leaving you alone with your misery!” Klaus stood up immediately and stumbling a bit followed his sister with a bottle of alcohol in one hand.
“Low blow Five. Really in-style” Alison , aka number three mocked.
“Oh, just shut up and give me a break” Five hissed with clenched fist in his best attempt to teleport back to his room and move on with work and equations that did not make any sense.
“You’re not gonna do this” Diego, number two pointed a knife in his direction. Eight was his favorite sister, always there to calm him down after a fight or to help him with his stuttering or whatever else he had going on and inside he always felt the need to protect her.  She might have been gifted with seeing people’s auras, manipulating their emotions and occasionally getting into their thoughts but she couldn’t use that on herself. And at this moment, surely she had a lot.  “You’re gonna go to her and apologize.”
“I do not have to listen to you, Diego” Five squinted and took a sip of coffee, which was his inherent accessory. “And as a matter of fact, I will not. I’m out.”
“He’s a prick” Luther, number one mumbled with his mouth full when Five excused himself in a flash of blue light. “But that is nothing new.”
“He never was for her” number seven, Vanya shook his head “this whole apocalypse business must have really got into his head if he’s acting like that.”
“Nope” Luther pointed “you seem him differently cause you two always had a connection. But Five is an ass.”
“Hear, hear” Alison nodded
“Hate to say it, but Luther’s right.” Diego stood up.
“Do you think I should check on Klaus and Eight? Don’t know which one will have worse influence on the other.” Vanya was truly the only one who wasn’t afraid to show she cared.
“Leave them be. She can handle herself. In fact, I see Klaus getting advice from her not the other way round. He’s been acting strange lately.”
“Can’t remember the time when he was not.”
*** 
Meanwhile in eight’s room she was sitting on her bed with legs up to her chest, staring blankly into a space. Well, in fact she was staring at the wall bordering her room from five’s but it was not intentional.
“My lovely sister!” Klaus stumbled into her room and fell on the bed making the girl jump a little. “Do not torture yourself with Five’s words. This is unhealthy.”
“Look who is talking about unhealthy” she smirked pointing towards the bottle “care to share?”
“Um…. Sure, yeah, why not? Here you are.” He took a long sip before passing the alcohol to her “enjoy.”
“Klaus?”
“Yes, dear?”
“It’s empty, you ball of fuzz. You drank the last drops”
“Ups. Sorry.” he grinned “I’m sure you can do without, right?” he hid his face in the bed sheet and groaned
“You left me no choice. Anyway, anything I can do for you, brother?”
“Me?” he raised himself on the elbows and looked straight at her, his hair being a mess, confusion all over his face “Oh, no, I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“Klaus.”
“Yes.”
“I can see your aura, remember? I can feel your emotions.”
“And what do you see, sister my?”
“Brown.” She raised an eyebrow
“You have to be more specific on that.”
“Well, you are either high, but that’s usual or you’ve been dealing with your ghost powers. I bet the latter.”
“I’m working hard you know, I’m trying” he cried “I even let Diego tie me to a chair so I would keep on track”
“So that’s what it was all about. Cute.”
“Don’t mock me” Klaus fell on his back dramatically “It’s exhausting.”
“Sure is. Ben giving you a hard time lately?”
“Not more than usual.” Number six, Ben, died at 17, but was still showing himself to Klaus and on some occasions Eight was capable of feeling his presence and emotions.
“It’s so good that at least you believe me I see him” Klaus grabbed her hand “He’s terrible. Won’t let me do a single thing.”
Liar.
“Oh, shut up, Ben”
“He’s here now? Where?”
Come on, eight, focus. I’m …. right…. here….
“Sitting on the window sill. You feel him?”
“Somewhat. I see yellow from that side. He’s mad. Not sure if It’s about you being a liar or ….”
The other one, obviously. Tell her, Klaus!
“Yeah, it’s about Five. Now, come here, sis. Let me hug you and make the pain go away. You do know you are not stupid, right?”
“Of course I do. But thank you Klaus.” She was more than happy to let her brother embrace her.
***
There was no denying that this damn upcoming apocalypse had an effect on every one of the siblings. Each of them reacted in their own way, leaving Luther and Alison spending the rest of the time together, Diego doing his vigilante shit, Klaus crying his heart out on Eight’s shoulder and Five going crazy. More than usual. Doing stuff he was not supposed too.
“Eight.” It was his best chance to make things right with her, so he appeared inside her room startling Klaus.
“Ah! Five. Don’t do this.”
“Go away. I need a word with her.”
“I don’t know if she….”
“If you don’t leave in like 5 seconds I’m gonna ….”
“Ok, fine, fine. I’m leaving. Jeez, threatening, Five? Seriously? I’m fragile!”
“Get out, Klaus!”
“Come on, Ben. We’re out.”
Nope. I’m staying. This will be interesting.
“Don’t you disobey me, now!” four yelled at the air making both Five and Eight look at him in confusion. Five more than his sister since she saw a bit of red in the air. Ben was angry for being told what to do. She shook her head not sure what to do with three brothers, one dead inside her room.
“You know what, since you all act like lunatics, I’m gonna go. Whoever has a business with me, feel free to join. I’ll get coffee and wait in the garden. 
And with that she left Klaus bantering with Ben and dumfounded Five behind.
***
“Come out now, blue, I can see you” couple minutes later she was sitting on the garden bridge, legs hanging from the edge, sipping coffee, watching the street.
“Stop calling me that” Five took a step towards her, hands in pockets, his whole posture a little slouched.
“I can’t help you just radiate this color.”
“And what does that mean to you. Sadness? I am not sad.”
“Of course not. Blue is not sadness, it’s more … thinking, considering. I can almost feel the wheels in your brain turning. So, the question is, what is on your mind to leave you like this?”
“Stop playing around. You know damn well what this is about.”
“Guilt?” she tilted her head
“Don’t push me Eight! You can say it to yourself.”
“Maybe” she refused to look at him “but I want you to express it.”
“I never should have called you that.”
“If that’s what troubles you ….”
“No. Don’t interrupt me!”
“How could I. After all you are older than me.” She fixed her gaze on the tree on the opposite side of the road.
“Look, Eight” he sighed in exasperation and rubbed his forehead “I saw you all die. I have lived through the apocalypse, and came back here looking like a kid. Surely you understand it is not… normal.”
“I do. And?”
“And…. This may have some effect on how I behave.”
“I call bullshit, Five.”
“Fine!” he yelled “you are infuriating, you get the craziest ideas, you make me mad and small, you constantly undermine what I do and …..”
“And what?” she finally looked at him. The second she laid her eyes on his face he could not hide anymore. She saw right through him like an open book. Not only because of her abilities, but because she was always the one closest to him. Challenging, yes. Demanding, yes. But at the same time so ambitious that it made him want to do more, to do better. To outsmart her, to impress her and to prove that he was in fact worth her friendship. He sighed, feeling utterly defeated.
“I hate you, Eight.” The boy shook his head in frustration  “But at the same time you are my sister and after some snarky comments and spiteful words I would jump into the fire for you.”
“I know. That is why I did not take what to you said to me personally.”
“It didn’t look like that to me.”
“Well then you are no smarter than me, dumbass. We are family, we are all broken, messy, chaotic and a bunch of individuals. We fight, scream at each other, get mad and even do not talk for … how many years?” she smiled at him “but at the end of the day we resist the urge to kill each other and that is the progress.”
“You want to kill me, Eight?”
“Sometimes, yes. Do you remember that?” she moved slightly so he could see a carving on the bridge.
“Fight” he smirked “Like Five and Eight combined.”
“How old were we when we made that up? Six?”
“Possibly. It’s good to see some things stays the same.”
“You know Five, we may have grown up, but seems like our relationship will always come down to this one words. Fight. Each other or other people, never mind. To me it just mean we are here for one another.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
“Good” she raised her cup “but stay away from my coffee. If there’s anything about you I know is that you are an ass, mischievous, spiteful, vengeful …”
“Careful there sister….”
“I’m not done yet… you act on impulse and do not mince your own words, but you are not cruel.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve seen my fair share of people who wanted to hurt another. Their faces when they told words that were meant to tear each other apart and to cause damage. There were so much viciousness inside. That single purpose on their mind to break and destroy. Whatever you may think about yourself you are not like that, Five. You are not evil. Just a menace.”
“So touching” he mocked  “I think I’m about to cry.”
“Don’t mind my presence than” she took another sip and having finished the coffee put the cup down ”“Now. You got silver sparkling in your cloud. Who are we fighting with today?”
“Have I ever told you about the Commission?” he squinted at her.
“Nope. But it seems like a long story. I’m listening.”
Yes. After all, they were family. And at the end of the day they were up to get rid of anyone who would threat a member of it.
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deceasedream69 · 2 years
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Drunk
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Summary: after Luther's wedding Five is wasted af. you bumped into him in the elevator but after that you don't remember too much.
______________________________________
- "who is dad talking to?", Said five trying to see the person in front of Reggie. But he was too drunk to even find the balance to be standing.
He quickly lost balance.
_
I was searching for five all over the building, but no luck so far.
The elevator door opened at the last floor, and there he was, Five all drunk, with his cute... I mean, ugly, messy hair.
But before I could talk to him, or even leave the elevator he starts to walk backwards quickly, falling on me, making me hit my head on the elevator wall.
I don't remember anything after that.
Five's pov
I woke up to the floor moving. My head hurted and everything sounded so loud.
At least the bed wasn't so hard. I sat up, rubbing my forehead, it hurted like a bitch. Worth it after everything I've been through.
I turned around me and see that I'm not in my room.
- "I was seriously out of my mind", I whispered before turning completely around. Y/n laying there, unconscious.
- "shit. Y/n...?" I put my hand on her cheek, her face was so... Soft. Not in any special way, it's probably because of the young bodies we're in. That'll also explain the feeling in my stomach everytime she's near me, or she smiles... I need to focus.
- "hey...", I tapped her cheek. Her eyes slowly opening, her hand moving quickly to the back of her head, a few tears forming in her eyes.
- "hey, are you okay? What happened last night?!", I asked worried after seeing her in pain.
- "I...", She started but winced in pain.
- "shhh, it's ok, you'll explain me later, let's go", I teleported us into my room.
- "hey, Five, what the hell happened to you last night?", Asked Diego putting some blades in his blades thingy (lol).
- "shhh", I said worried about any noise that could disturbed y/n. "Something happened last night, she needs help", I whispered.
- "what the hell did you do this time?", Said Luther a little loud
- "what part of "shhh" do you not understand? I don't want to upset her even further", I whispered-shouted.
- "I'm fine, five", she said sitting up, her hand still on the back of her head. "You don't remember anything from yesterday?"
- "just a few moments, but not the elevator part".
She laid back down, pointing me to lay next to her.
- "I was looking for you, I went through the whole building, but I couldn't find you"
She started to play with my fingers that were next to her free hand. The feeling in my stomach grew more and more.
- "Until I reached the last floor and I found you. With your messy hair", she said running her hand through my still messy hair. "And your outfit ruined", she said looking back at the bed on top. "And I wanted to talk to you... But you were so drunk you lost you're balance. And before I could even leave the elevator you fell on top of me... I don't remember anything after that..."
Y/n's pov
- "holy shit. I'm so sorry. So is my fault that your head hurts", he said teleporting outside of the room.
- "where the hell did he go?", Said Klaus from his bed. I waved at him from below.
Five retuned with a bag of ice and gently put it on the back of your head.
- "mmm, that feels nice...", I said taking the bag in my hand.
- "hey", he said moving my hand, let me hold it for you, I owe it to you.
- "i was thinking of asking for something much better in exchange, honestly"
- "what did you have in mind?", His face on top of mine, really close.
- "that you fall on top of me again, just not so hard", I said pulling him from his shirt.
- "oh, trust me, I fell hard", he said kissing me again.
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paperpocalypse · 2 years
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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
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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.
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Text
Into You- F. Hargreeves
Requested- No
*NOTE: FIVE HAS BEEN AGED UP FOR THE PURPOSE OF THIS IMAGINE. HE AGED BACK TO 22!*
Summary- You've always been deemed the number one assassin in the Commission. Well, until Five showed up. Quickly finding common ground, you seem to be the only one Five is actually comfortable around, and you him. But the teasing and flirting just isn't cutting it anymore.....
Warnings- swearing (it is Five after all, sexual references, alcohol consumption.
Song- Into you by Ariana Grande.
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I'm so into you, I can barely breathe.
The loud music of the bar surrounded you, the beat pulsing it's way up your spine. Your drink sat in front of you, untouched, the cold glass of a sweet unknown cocktail sweating. The alcohol from your previous drinks flowed through your veins, making the world hazy and the filter you usually use when talking non-existent. Five sat across from you, he's long legs stretched out before him, the alcohol completely relaxing the usually tense man. You stared, breath catching in your throat as his dark brown, almost black hair fell across his shut eyes, the kids concealing the beautiful green you always got lost in.
And all I want to do, is to fall in deep....
You wished desperately that he would open those eyes. You could picture his usual stare in your mind, the walls in the green depths that prevented anyone from reading him too well. Yet somehow, everytime you made eye contact with the gorgeous man before you, you always lost your train of thought. Those green eyes flickered open as you stared at him, a lazy smiling flickering across his face a he locked eyes with yours.
But close ain't close enough, til we cross that line....
You scooted your chair closer to him, your legs brushing against his underneath the table in one slow, delicate move. The man straightened in his seat, his eyes widened in surprise, a small, almost unnoticeable blush starting to creep up the sculpted cheekbones that shaped his face. The song overhead changed, and your drunken mind lit up with a bright idea.
So name a game to play, and I'll roll the dice....
You grabbed Five by the hand, stumbling slightly as you stood. Admittedly, you were acting drunker than you actually were, an escape plan in case of rejection. Five stared up at you as you walked to his side of the table, a mischievous smile lighting up your eyes.
"What are you doing?"
He questioned, the slight shake in his voice betraying the calm and collected facade he usually wore. You laughed, the bright and happy sound audible even above the loud music.
"We are going to dance!"
You refused to take no for an answer, knowing full well how much Five loved to dance (even if he would refuse to admit it and then kill you for saying it.) The man sighed in defeat, unable to bite back the genuine smile that graced his lips as he was pulled onto the dance floor. Your eyes met his as you both began to dance, the music loosening up your wired bodies further.
Oh, baby, look what you started,
The temperature's rising in here,
Is this gonna happen?
Been waiting and waiting for you,
To make a move, before I make a move.....
The temperature on the dance rose as you danced, the many layers of your work clothes intensifying the heat. You began to strip the top layers of your clothes; your blazer, followed by your tie and shirt, unaware of the piercing green eyes watching you strip to just your camisole and skirt. Five's hand reached to his throat and loosened his own tie, the garment suddenly feeling restrictive. His eyes travelled back to your face, a harsh pink rapidly washing up his neck, over his cheeks to his ears as he met your knowing eyes. You gulped as you moved slightly closer to him, elation filling your veins and clearing your head at the fact that he had, in fact, been checking you out.
You slowly reached out to grab his hand, surprised as he grasped your hand in his, his fingers lacing with yours. Shocks ran up arm from the contact, your lungs suddenly losing the ability to breath as he pulled you in towards him, holding you gently to the front of his body. You gazed up at him, unable to stop yourself from looking at his lips as your heart pounded in your chest.
His own eyes flickered to your lips, staying locked on them as you danced. Irritation burned through you as his gaze never faltered, yet he failed to make a move. So, you took the situation into your own hands, capturing his lips in a soft, gentle kiss in one swift movement.
Five didn't hesitate to return the kiss, both his hands falling to your hips as his lips pushed against yours in a bruising kiss.
So baby, come light me up,
And maybe I'll let you on it,
A little bit dangerous,
But baby, that's how I want it,
A little less conversation,
And a little more touch my body,
'Cause I'm so into you,
Into you,
Into you.
And the rest was history.....
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lizzielikeborden · 2 years
Text
SEND IN NEW TUA REQUESTS RN
PLEASE
pretty please
i have an itchy to write a whole bunch
i promise i will do them all
i've also got some eddie coming out but am waiting until the day it all comes out to mass post
so in the mean time SEND IN REQUESTS
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lostgirlfandom · 1 year
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Umbrella Academy Masterlist
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Five
Allison
Viktor/Vanya
Luther
Diego
Klaus
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Text
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This will be Markiplier’s cameo in the FNAF 2 movie
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parkersbliss · 2 years
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I'm so embarrassed but here it is! 😭 so there's y/n who is addicted to coffee flavored candies but doesn't like drinking coffee. which five finds very confusing. She's always offering five candy but ofc, five answers grumpily like "it's not the same thing as coffee"— and suddenly goes to a part where they kiss (idk how it leads to this omg) and five is absolutely ENAMORED with her lips bcs of all the coffee candy she eats..
is this too much explaining or what.. ANYWAYS THANK YOU FOR THIS I LOVE U LOTS <3
this… this is THE request. thank you for this 🙇‍♀️
Sweet Flavor | F. Hargreeves
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pairing: five hargreeves x fem!reader
wc; 637
warnings: might make you blush lololol
synopsis: five refuses to try your favorite candy, so you make him
a/n: feeding yall today 🙄 you’re welcome! half way through s3 💪 also aged up five ofc!
requests: CLOSED
Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt list 
Five sighs, leaning on the table as you take a seat next to him.
“Really embracing the old man, huh?” You said, referring to his unusual outfit. Instead of the academy uniform, he’d opted for a vest, flannel, and fedora combination. You honestly wondered where he found it.
Five hums. “Yes, I am. It’s called retirement.”
You just laugh at him, unwrapping one of your Werther's caramel coffee candies. Five wrinkles his nose in disgust as you hand one towards him. “Want one?”
“I’d rather save the world again. Naked,” He sassily replied.
“I wouldn’t say that if I were you,” You tease, popping the candy into your mouth and sighing at this sweet-bitter flavor.
“Why don’t you just drink regular coffee?” He asked. “Like a sane person?”
“Because coffee is nasty,” You said, sticking your tongue out at him and displaying the small candy. “These are better.”
“They’re not even close to the same thing,” He grumbled.
You raise a brow at him. “And how would you know? You’ve never had one.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he dismisses, getting up and inspecting the hotel buffet. You follow after him, popping another candy in your mouth.
“So, what are you thinking of doing since you’re retired?”
Five grabs a cup and fills it with coffee. “I don’t know. Traveling? Isn’t that what people do nowadays?”
You scoff, “Yeah, people who don’t look barely eighteen.”
He swats at you, returning to your seats. “I’ll drive.”
He pours some syrup over his pancakes, and you pout. “If you like that much syrup, you’d love the candies just as much.”
“Coffee is supposed to taste bitter, not filled with artificial flavoring.”
“You don’t know till you try.”
“I do know, and I’m telling you now, that is shit,” He points at your mouth with his knife.
You frown, suckling on the candy and its sweet flavor. You were lucky to have found them back in 1963, and now you just kept a handful in your pocket at all times.
“You didn’t like me at first, and now…”
“That’s completely different,” He defends.
You laugh. “Really? Cause you’re a bitter old man, and I’m the sweetest person ever.”
“You are far from the sweetest person ever.”
“That’s not the point, Five,” You huff.
He smiles at you. “Isn’t it, darling?”
“Just try one,” You urged, tossing the wrapped candy at his face. “Please.”
"Try a cup of coffee, and I’ll consider it.”
“I have tried a cup of coffee.”
“When?”
You roll your eyes. “Prior to when we met.”
“Then, I tried your coffee-flavored candy… prior to when we met.”
You glare at Five, and he just smirks, taking a bite of his pancakes.
“Please,” You beg.
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
“They’re—”
“No.”
“Five.”
“No.”
You click your tongue, still rolling the candy in your mouth when a thought occurs to you. Five notices the mischievous look on your face, and his eyebrows furrow together.
“(Y/N)—”
He’s cut off when you grab the back of his neck and smash your lips together. His hands fly to cup your cheeks as the taste of the candy invades his mouth. And holy shit, he loves it. His lips press harder against yours, almost making you fall off the seat as he chases the flavor.
And then, before you know it, he slips his tongue in and relishes the sweet flavor. His tongue explores every inch of your mouth, trying to seek the sugary treat he so desires. You let out a quiet whine, brain fuzzy at the action. Five groans as you tug on his hair, tongue invading your mouth, and then he pulls back.
You’re stunned, blinking as your lips smack together. And then you notice something missing and gasp.
Five grins, sticking his tongue to display your coffee-flavored caramel proudly on his tongue.
“You little—”
— END —
🏷 five taglist: @clearbasementvoid @halfumbrella @esmedith
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rcksmith · 2 years
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Last night of the world — Five Hargreeves
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You can find the 3 request here: anonymous 1, anonymous 2, anonymous 3.
Resume: Luther's wedding was an ironic joke for Five Hargreeves, especially with the apocalypse knocking at the door. But, that night, when Five looked at you and his breath escaped his lungs, he understood his brother. Beause he would marry you too on the last night of the world if he could.
Fluff prompts:
5. ”Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.”
11. “Wow- you look…amazing.” 
15. “Because i love you god damnit!”
16. “I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass..” “I heard that!” “You were supposed to!”
20. “How am i supposed to spoil you when you wont accept my gifts?”
40. “Come cuddle.”
Couple: Five Hargreeves /Fem!Reader.
Warnings: just swearing, little angst, mention of death, VERY FLUFF.
Word count:3k.
A/N: Spoiler from season 3.
Because I have a lot of requests in my box, I compile 3 orders that are similar and put together, but I took care to added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. 
We not tolerate any pedophilia here!! I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter, MHA and others fandoms.
English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.
Requests are OPEN. Love you ❤️
———
He can remember to this day. The taste of heaven on the top of his tongue, his heart suddenly racing into an uncontrollable rhythm, the sensation of an icy shiver coursing through his body and igniting a hot flame deep in his chest. It was like seeing the muse of a Renaissance painting: exciting, destabilizing. And all your splendor made the soul of Five Hargreeves want to kneel for you in eternal devotion.
You were breathtaking. And even after years, he can still remember that moment.
Five is not a man who is easily impressed, nor is he snatched by any woman. He is firm, rational and practical. But meeting you… in all your glory as a God-decorated angel, made him want to admit the existence of the divine and drown himself in your religion.
It only took a few months for Hargreeves to realize that the earth's rotation only made sense when you were by his side, directing smiles towards him that made he feel like he was in the heart of the sun, that awakened the will to…be good. At least the best possible, for you. To have the illusion that he could deserve you.
Maybe if Five Hargreeves tried to be a better man when he was by your side, he could fool the gods, life or fate, that he deserved you. And so no one would take you away from him. Maybe.
The relationship of you two was something inevitable, unstoppable, Five held you like it was a miracle and didn't dare let go anymore. You were one of those once-in-a-lifetime things, and he wasn't going to risk losing you. But, lucky for Five, you loved him just as much as Phyllis loved Demophon.
There was an unspoken promise surrounding the love of the two of you, the unshakable conviction that you would remain side by side, until the end of the world.
"You are so lost in thought." Your voice snapped Five out of his reverie, bringing him back to reality.
A reality many years later. Where the end of the world knocked at the door, once again. Where his dysfunctional family was trapped in that strange and confusing reality. A reality where, in the midst of impending death, Luther was getting married.
When did time go by so fast?
It was at that moment that the blue eyes with ocean hues were in your direction, and just like so many years ago, Five lost his breath, his reason and his understanding of the world. The red silk clung to every curve of your body like an embrace of perfection, your skin was glistening under the lights of the hotel's ballroom, leaving you looking like a fantasy too good to have come true.
Holy fuck.
“Wow-’’  His voice got stuck on the way from brain to mouth, too perplexed how someone like you could be real. “You look…amazing.” 
The sincerity in his voice, charged with a tremor and veneration, made the hairs on your arms stand on end and your heart race like horses in a race. How, after so many years, could he still look at you as if you were the most beautiful deity among the Greek gods? There was a pure love deep in his eyes that always made your soul tremble.
"You look wonderful too." You flashed a big smile, running your hand down his arm. “I love you in a suit.”
Five made a mocking sound, like a half laugh, as he looked away for a second before turning his attention to you.
"You always say that."
"Because it's true"
Your body came close to his without hesitation, being greeted by Five's warm arm around your waist. His touch became firmer as he pulled you a little closer, as if, unconsciously, he firming up territory.
“What were you thinking?” He looked at you in an inquisitive way “When I arrived. What were you thinking?”
"In you." His answer came as firm as his grip, and your heart leapt in chest. “More specifically the first time I saw you.”
There was something about the way Five Hargreeves looked at you. Something mysterious, passionate, hot as the fire of sin and sweet as the gates of paradise. Something that made you feel like you were living a true love story. Emotions curled at the top of your throat, and you knew you would cry if you uttered a single syllable. So you just laid your head on his shoulder, snuggling into the person who was the reason you were still breathing.
“What are the plans for tonight?” Your voice came out when you were sure you wouldn't cry, looking back into his eyes.
“My only plan for tonight is to get fucked up beyond all recognition” Then his mouth got closer to your ear and became wicked when said "And fuck you so fucking hard that I'm going to break the bed"
Hot shivers licked up your spine to the back of your neck, heat in your belly rose to your eyes, and you smiled broadly, full of sinful expectation.
Five's promises were never in vain.
”Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.” he said.
Your cheeks flushed and you smiled even wider, the blood pulsing hard in your veins, following the same rhythm as your passionate heart.
Hargreeves bit his teeth as he tightened his grip on your waist. “You teasing little thing.”
You laughed loud, letting him lead you to one of the tables and you said softly  “I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass...” 
“I heard that!” 
“You were supposed to!”
----
No one knew - or cared - what time it was, the height of dawn was always perfect for rampant alcohol and dubious behavior. Nights were made for choices that weren't made during the day.
At that moment, forever was in that ballroom, with drunk people and loud music. The colored lights pulsed like a car engine, contributing alcohol to cloud and inhibit the rationality of everyone in the room.
The world was ending and each one there found a different poetic meaning for the situation.
Luther found his in his wife, Klaus clung to his father's plans and lived that night not as the last, but as the beginning of something, just like Ben. Viktor found his in the peace that existed in the idea of - finally - putting an end to that drama of apocalypses, which followed him from timeline to timeline.
For Five Hargreeves, his poetic meaning was you.
His eyes were heavy and his mind light, but he would have to be completely blind for not recognize that, whenever he looked in your direction, you were the most breathtaking girl of the universe.
Would he stop venerate you as a goddess? No.
He stood there for a few seconds, next to someone he didn't care who it was, his eyes completely mesmerized on you. Like you was the most dangerous siren at sea, and he was just a sailor totally at your mercy.
Your body, trapped in that fucking maddening red silk gown, was covered in a fine mist of sweat that lit your skin like pirate treasure. Your hair was unruly and coming out of hairstyle, but the strands that fell under the lap of your breasts took his breath away. It should be considered a cardinal sin the way your body was moving, and Five would have dropped to his knees for you if he could spend eternity there, watching you dance.
“I don't think I've ever seen you look like that.” It sounded like Klaus' voice, but Five didn't want to take his eyes off you to check it out.
“I don't have any expression on my face.” He said the first thing that came to his mind, even though he didn't believe his own words.
How could anyone keep a complacent expression when you looked like that? So miraculous that Five questioned his sanity. There was something about you that kept him wrapped around your finger, so fervently in love, whipped with just one look you gave him. Your image was like a renaissance miracle, a glimpse novelists had of paradise.
God sure was a woman…because there was no explanation for you being so divinely beautiful.
“she’s just…wow”
Klaus must have said something, but Five didn't deign to pay attention, his concentration too focused on the way your body moved, the sway of your hips that moved his ocean. Your every move was a tsunami on his sea, every twirl was a rotation on his Earth, you were shaking Five's entire existence and didn't even notice.
You may have fallen in love with him first, but he fell in love hardest.
That's when your eyes met his, in a fatal connection that made Five's soul tingle. Your smile was the second shot at his sanity, and at that moment, at a stupid wedding, Hargreeves wondered why the hell he never made an event like this be a moment of the two of you?
Why did he never ask you to marry him?
And in that second, watching you dance with Viktor, he found no reason not to.
Fuck it.
With each step Five took toward you, charged with purpose, the more the sense of certainty inside him grew, like a thunderous sound.
“I'm going to have to steal the most beautiful woman of the night.'' Five told his brother, who tried to hide his laughter at his drunken, uninhibited state.
A delicious flush crept up your cheeks, coloring your skin to a shy tinge that made Five want to run his tongue at the maddening color.
“All yours” Viktor was still trying not to laugh as he handed you to his night-black-haired brother.
“Come cuddle.” Five's drunk voice teased you as he pulled you as close to him as he could.
“You know that the most beautiful woman of the night is a bride, don't you?” it was your first speech as you settled youself with his warm, masculine, possessive hand on the small of your back.
“Not for me.” His voice brushed your jaw, lowering to your neck as if Five were inhaling the scent of your soul. “Never for me.”
Five was drunk, you knew that, he smelled like expensive whisky and masculine cologne, but there was something about his sincerity abounding in his drunkenness that made your heart pound. Hargreeves could be very good at hiding his feelings on a day-to-day basis, but that fell apart when alcohol drowned out his demons.
Was that what he thought whenever he looked at you? That you were the most beautiful woman, in every single night? Did he look at you with that oblique glow and in his mind he secretly venerate you?
You've never wanted a positive response so much in your life, because that's exactly how you feel about him. Your heart has long had the name 'Five Hargreeves' tattooed in red-hot iron, and the wish you've asked the shooting stars is that yours would also be tattooed on Five's heart too.
it wasn't too much to ask...
“I love the way you smell.” You buried your nose in his neck, letting the male body rock you completely, just not touching you with both hands because he held a bottle of whisky in his left.
Five let out a sound that could be described as disbelieving laughter. "i've been drinking for hours."
“But I can still smell your real scent.” You joked, reaching up to the back of his head whit your hands.
Hargreeves rummaged his shoulders, in a way to draw your attention to his face, pulling your eyes from your favorite hiding place. When you did, there were so many emotions pouring out of the blue Egyptian eyes that made your soul shivered.
“What do I smell like?” A question so innocent, pure, almost childish, but one that was able to quicken your pulse as quickly as a wildfire.
There was no hesitation in your voice as you replied: “Home.”
A hot feeling licked Five from head to toe, shaking his structures and revoking all the foundations of his life. It should be a crime for you to say such things. It should be a crime for you to be so beautiful that it physically hurt. It should be a crime to be that passionate for you. So, whit his chest sinking with overwhelming emotions and feelings, Hargreeves made the only coherent decision: he kissed you.
Kissed you because his ribcage would explode if he didn't. Kissed you because every cell in his body screamed that no longer belonged to him, but to you.
Mine, mine, mine. That's what Five thought as drowned the sins on your heavenly lips.
“I want to marry you.” His voice was still swallowed by your lips, because he refused to pull away.
"But..." one more kiss ''we already...'' one more kiss ''we're married.''
"No." the firmness in his voice shook your heart  “I want a stupid wedding like this stupid event. I want to hear the idiotic speeches of my father and my siblings, and say that I want this hell to end when in fact I'm reveling in the fact that everyone is gathered just to see my wife. Because i love you god damnit! '' his statement left no space for a answer, because Five swallowed your breath with another incendiary kiss “I want to see you in white, and recite silly vows when in fact my love for you is much more than these ready-made words. I want to give you my last name, keep you by my side as the only Mrs. Hargreeves… I want… why the fuck have I never asked you to marry me before?!”
Five couldn't tell if you were crying or smiling, but he was relieved by the tight way you were holding him. Of course it wasn't the best of statements, he was never good with sentimental shit, but something in the way you looked at him shocked said he said something very right.
“I should propose to you in a better way.” His speech was cut off by a hiccup from the alcohol. “fucking hell…'' his gaze wandered slowly across the room and stopped at the stage, where Ben and Klaus were singing some horrible bullshit ''I already know…'' his drunk mind went back to you again ''I'll sing for you.''
Your laughter overcame the tears, and the automatic question left your mouth. “Why,babe?’’
"Because I want to make a decent proposal, give you something more worth telling people about later."
You were going to say a thousand things, but Five cut you off by the look in your eyes "How am I supposed to spoil you when you wont accept my gifts?”
Five Hargreeves didn't give you a chance to argue, didn't give you a second to recover from a breathtaking statement, and you felt like crying in anger at yourself when he was already away from you, on his way to the stage. You wanted to say that you loved him from the first second, that you worshiped him more than the Greeks worship Zeus. You didn't need a proposal, a big wedding, a official celebration, you always knew you were his wife. And you wanted him to know that too, wanted him to understand that, nothing he wasn't ready to do, you would push him to do. His reserved and sour nature wasn't a problem and you were always completely happy with what you had. Because that meant having Five on your side.
You've never considered yourself a big fan of such public displays of affection, you've always found proposal in open spaces and with people around cheesy, but...but the way Five smiled at you on that stage, microphone in hand and bottle of alcohol in another, it made you question all your tastes in life. That scene was worth it
The truth was, Five would hang the moon in the sky for you, and you'd do anything to keep that love and happiness in his eyes whenever he looked your way.
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pasukiyo · 5 months
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BEAUTIFUL THING
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mike schmidt x f!reader word count; 2,573 warnings; smut, no plot, just porn :D summary; there was nothing in the world she wanted more than mike schmidt. but what were the chances he'd ever make a move on her?
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 She wanted Mike Schmidt.
 Don’t get her wrong, she absolutely adored Abby, she was sweet, funny, and overall not a hard kid to take care of. But she knew all too well what her intentions were when she agreed to take up the babysitting job— how could she say no when he looked at her like that with those big, deep brown eyes?
 It was another late night spent at the Schmidt house— Mike had just gotten himself a new job with unholy hours, some late night security gig he had no choice but to take. Her mouth opened in a yawn and through her bleary vision, she blinked down to the watch on her wrist. 
 4:30 AM. Mike wouldn’t be back for another hour and a half or so. 
 She sighed and threw her head back against the cushions, staring absentmindedly at the television as some old cartoon played, audio soft and muffled. She wasn’t sure why she even bothered trying to stay up for Mike— she’d been babysitting for him for months, (without pay, might she add) and still, neither he nor she had made any moves. She wasn’t even sure if he ever even intended to make a move on her. 
 But she was just so certain that he felt at least some sort of attraction towards her. She could see it in the way he looked at her, how his eyes would absentmindedly trail down her body against his better judgment, how he’d pull the inside of his bottom lip between his teeth while he did. She could see it in the way his body would react when she came too close, like when she gave him a handshake or playfully shoved his shoulder.
 It was the same way she reacted when he was close. 
 Surely it couldn’t all be for nothing?
 Her eyelids were falling heavy against her eyes and she slowly slumped further into the cushions of the couch, hands tightening around the blanket around her body. Sleep was so close that she could reach out and feel it, and she would’ve slipped into the arms of slumber if it hadn’t been for the opening and closing of the front door. 
 She grumbled and furrowed her brows down at her watch. 
 4:35 AM. Mike wasn’t supposed to be home yet. 
 At the notion, she jolted and snapped her head towards the entrance, her heart thrumming against her chest as she prepared herself for the sight of a total stranger, ready to make a run straight for Abby’s room. She blinked and narrowed her eyes at the dark silhouette of the figure as it hung its coat on the rack bolted on the wall. 
 “Sorry. S’ just me.”
 She knew that voice. It was a voice she always dreamed about, a voice belonging to someone she’d seen practically everyday.
 “Mike?” Her voice came out rough, having not spoken for hours, not since Abby had gone to bed. “What are you doing home so early?” She asked as she pushed herself further up the sofa while Mike made his way towards the recliner, wiping a hand down his face before plopping down into the seat. She could only make out his face through the light from the television but even then, she could sense something was off. 
 Mike tapped his fingers against the armrest of the recliner, “I… I just… needed to leave… I guess,” he replied and she frowned, scooting to the far side of the couch closest to him. “Is… is everything alright?” She questioned, unsure whether or not he needed consoling. Mike leaned further back into his seat and let his eyelids flutter closed, inhaling deep through his nostrils. 
 “Just… is Abby asleep?” He finally asked after a moment and she nodded, humming. “She went down earlier than usual. Actually managed to get her to eat something,” she replied, her lips curving into a smile but quickly faltering again when she realized Mike wasn’t going to reciprocate. He looked almost… distraught. 
 Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she pondered her options. She’d known Mike for some time but even then, she still knew little to nothing about him. He slept a lot, that was for sure. And he loved his little sister and was trying so hard to be exactly the type of person she needed. But she knew nothing about him, Mike Schmidt himself. She didn’t know what he did in his free time, what he liked to eat, if he had hobbies, nothing. 
 Hell, she’d spent so much time fantasizing about him and filling in all the holes herself, she hardly even acknowledged that he could be somebody entirely else. She didn’t know the first thing about him.
 But she could learn to try. 
 She leaned forward, a steady hand warily finding his on the armrest of the recliner and she flinched when Mike snapped his eyelids open, looking between her and their touching hands. Their gazes surged into one another and she made no moves, as if seeking any sign that she should stop.
 Mike’s heart thrummed so hard inside his chest, it was a miracle that she couldn’t hear it. She looked at him as if she were asking permission— permission to what, he hadn’t even the slightest clue. But in spite of the voices inside of his head telling him he shouldn’t, that he shouldn’t let her, that he was wrong for her, he did. How could he say no when she looked at him like that, as if he were the most beautiful thing she’d ever laid eyes upon?
 His silence gave her the confidence to let her fingers creep further down to the back of his hand, flipping it around until they rested against the heel of his palm. Slowly, she soothed the tips of her fingers up his palm until they fell between the cracks of his, letting her digits curl around his knuckles. Mike shuddered at the touch and let his own fingers press down against hers and he watched as she raised their intertwined hands to her mouth, their gazes molded together as she pressed her lips against his skin. His lips trembled as they fell open and he narrowed his eyes, clinging onto the last bit of restraint he had left. 
 “You can relax with me, Mike,” she whispered against his skin, pressing another soft kiss to the knuckle of his ring finger. “You don’t have to worry while I’m around.”
 Mike pressed his lips back together and fought back the urge to groan at her words, his eyes wandering from their hands, down her arm, to her chest where it pressed against the edge of the sofa. His breath shuddered when he exhaled and the rubber band stretched inside of him finally released and with it, the last of his restraint. 
 Fuck it, he thought. It’s been long enough.
 Mike tugged her closer by the hand and her lids widened, a squeal slipping from her lips, in which he was swift to eat right up, pressing his mouth against hers. With his hand not intertwined with hers, he gripped her hip, working his way up to her waist to squeeze. The sound she made was muffled inside their admittedly messy kiss and he pulled her even closer, her knees having nowhere to go but on the outside of his thighs. 
 Mike groaned and pulled away to catch his breath as her hips ground down against his, already feeling frustrated with the growing erection in his jeans. He blinked up at the woman on top of him, her arms thrown over his shoulders, her chest heaving as she chased air back into her lungs. She stared down at him with hazy irises, still bleary from lack of sleep. 
 “Sorry,” Mike finally managed to breathe out, his palms resting on either of her thighs. “Probably a little much, wasn’t it?”
 He watched as the corners of her lips curved into a grin and she chuckled breathlessly, shaking her head. “Not enough,” she tittered as she surged her lips back into his, one of her hands on his shoulders slithering their way into his mess of dark tendrils, fingers curling and tugging at his roots. He hissed inside her mouth and dug his fingernails into her skin, a whimper falling from her lips, allowing him to take control of the situation. 
 He pressed himself forward and reached for the end of her t-shirt and she briefly broke away to allow the fabric up and over her head, her own fingers already working at the buckle of his belt. Mike leaned forward to pepper kisses all across the tops of her breasts and she threw her head back as he took over in undoing his belt, ripping it from his loops and throwing open the button and zipper of his jeans. 
 She clambered off of him as he raised his hips to tug his pants and boxers down just enough to allow his erection to spring free of its restraints, feeling her stomach do a somersault at the sight as she stripped herself of her own shorts and panties. Mike fought the urge to wrap his hands around his cock as she reached behind her back to undo the clasps of her bra and time seemed to slow as the straps fell from her shoulders, the lave toppling to the floor altogether. 
 He swore he could feel his mouth water and never before this moment had he wanted something, or someone, more. He blinked up at her, following her gaze down to his lap and at his erection that stood tall, waiting for her, dripping with pre-cum. 
 Mike cocked an eyebrow, “you just gonna stand there or you gonna take it?” He asked, voice low and husky and fuck, she thought she’d drop dead right then and there. Still, this was a dangerous game they were playing. “What about Abby?” She whispered, glancing towards the hallway where Abby’s room was. “What if she wakes up?”
 Mike pressed his lips together and bucked his hips, raising a leg to softly give her calf a kick. “You can be quiet, right?” He murmured in question and she felt herself clench from his voice alone. Here Mike Schmidt was, cock out and erect, all because of her. This was something she had only dreamed of— never did she think that this would become reality. 
 Mike cocked his eyebrow again and she shook herself from her thoughts, taking his hand as he guided her back onto his lap. Her body shuddered and her bones rattled as she began to sink herself down, jolting when the tip brushed against her cunt, teeth sinking down into the plush of her bottom lip to contain her sounds. 
 “It’s okay,” Mike whispered. “I got you.”
 Her eyes about rolled in the back of her head at that as his hands kneaded at the flesh of either of her hips, guiding her further down his length, making sure to go agonizingly slow to ensure she felt every single fucking inch of cock inside of her. Tears brimmed the outskirts of her eyelids as she finally sat still on his lap, filled to the brim with cock. Mike let her head fall down against the curve of his shoulder, burying her nose into the crook of his neck as she allowed time to adjust to his size, simultaneously trying to keep her sounds to a minimum. 
 “You’re so tight,” Mike’s breath shuddered in her ear and his voice made goosebumps litter her skin, his fingertips like the icy breath of a ghost against her back. “You think you can handle moving now?” He asked in a whisper against the shell of her ear and she nodded, letting him grab her thighs and push her further up his cock until just the head remained. She cried against his neck when he sank her all the way back down his length, the lewd noise of their wet skin slapping together making her clench around him. “Fff… uuck,” he dragged his curse out as he snapped his hips up against her.
 “Shit!” She gasped as he thrusted again and again and again. And she let him. She let him use her in whatever way he pleased. 
 “Gonna be good for me?” He muttered next to her ear. “Gonna let me take care of you, hm?” She nodded, bobbing her head up and down against his shoulder as he snapped his hips up to hers again and again, daring the coil inside her belly to snap. “Think you can handle it?” He asked again and she nodded once more, crying and biting down on his collar. “Yes!” She cried, fortunately muffled against his skin. 
 So Mike thrusted again, harder and harder, chasing that high, that release he so desperately needed. He could tell she was close— it’d probably been so long since she’d been stuffed by cock like this. She’d probably been waiting for this moment just as long as he has. 
 With the pad of his thumb, he pressed down against her aching bud and Mike could feel a fresh new set of tears soak his skin as she cried, bucking her hips into his touch. His thrusts were as sloppy as they were powerful and she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. 
 “Mmm… Mike… I’m… I’m gonna…” she hardly managed to stutter out, slowly feeling the coil inside her stomach as it began to unravel. 
 “Yeah?” Mike said, his other hand wrapped around her neck and pushing her forehead down against his, gazing up at her closed eyelids. He rolled his head against hers, “look at me,” he breathed out and watched as she slowly fluttered her lids back open, just as more fat tears beaded down her cheeks. The sight was enough to get him to teeter on the edge himself. 
 “Gonna come?” He asked and she nodded, sweat-slicked forehead lolling against his. He nodded too, already feeling her release around him as she spawned around his cock, relying solely on him and his body to keep herself up. She buried her face in the crook of his neck again as she whined and cried, Mike’s thrusts speeding up as he gave himself that final push he needed to send himself reeling, spiraling and shaking with the force of his release. 
 “Fuck,” he growled into the skin just below her ear, squeezing his eyelids shut tighter as he willed himself to keep his sounds on the low, for the sake of his little sister sleeping just in the other room. 
 Silence fell over Mike and the babysitter for a good, long moment as they both recovered from their highs, chasing air back into their lungs as the realization of what they had just done began to sink in. Mike should be mortified— she was his sister’s babysitter, he doesn’t have time for this, she doesn’t deserve him, he shouldn't have done this. 
 But the woman in his lap settled herself closer into him, nuzzling her nose against the crook of his neck, her lips like a crescent moon against his skin as she placed a soft kiss to his flesh there. 
 “I hope you’re okay, Mike,” she whispered and he threw his head back, an arm thrown around her body as he stared up at the ceiling. How could he push her away now?
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a/n; so yeah!!! i watched fnaf on friday and it kinda sorta just brought back my whole josh hutcherson phase so enjoy!! this was just a quick little something i wrote up and there's like no plot at all and not proofread LMAO
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angelltheninth · 5 months
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Michael Goes Feral After Unlocking His Breeding Kink
Pairing: Michael Afton x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, breeding kink, leg lock, creampie, feral!Michael Afton
A/N: I have a headache so I didn't get to write the other things I wanted to for today but I did manage to get this done.
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It was an accident you swear it, you just wanted to feel Michael closer, deeper, you wanted to hold him against you, feel his chest against yours, feel his body on top of you, get that last kiss in before he had to leave for work. So you pulled him closer, you locked your legs around him just as he was about to come.
You didn't think about the fact that he wasn't wearing a condom, or that you'll have to go to the drug store after this, you only wanted Michael's cock deep inside you.
But the moment you prevented him from pulling out there was a change in him. First a brief hesitation as he let himself sink back in, his throat bobbing at the implications of the act and what it would mean if he were to get you pregnant. Next was the wonderful image of it, your big belly, feeling the baby kick, getting to name it with you, getting to become a dad, making you a mother. "Wanna have a kid?" He blurted out, smirking to himself before you got to reply to him.
"You... mean that? But Michael, you just started your job. It's be bad if... ah... are you even listening to me?" All the while you kept talking he didn't stop his hips once, "We gott-aah... think abou-t... mmn... can't think..." It was hard to, with him constantly reminding you of how full you were.
"Fine, okay. But at least let me come inside you, please I wanna come inside your cunt." When Michael starts swearing you know how horny he is. "Really need this tonight babe." He grunted, his hands grabbing your thighs and keeping them locked around himself, "I'll fill you up good tonight okay? It's what you want right?"
You could see the little bits of doubt on his face and decided to kiss them away, "Want you close. If you want to... yes, you can do it inside. Give me your cock, cum, you... can do what you want."
What started as a little quickie before work just as easily turned into Michael hammering his hard cock into you with brute force only he possessed, watching his cum spill out of you, "No, no, no, no. Inside, that stays inside, you told me to fill you up, that's what I'll do, I won't let you down. I promise sweetheart." He was getting almost frantic, "You're gonna be so... perfect... when I put a baby into you, fuck you full of my seed." Michael quickly fell in love with that idea, shooting another hot, sticky white strings of cum into your womb.
He kept doing this night after night after night before he went to work, even if you took the after pill it didn't matter to him. As long as he got to leave with you dripping full of his cum then his job for the day was done. To think that all you needed to do to unlock that feral side of him was to lock your legs around him, how funny.
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renata-dp · 27 days
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Since I've seen it I couldn't stop thinking about it (please don't kill me x,,d)
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Ironically I think Doofenshmirtz and Perry's dynamic kinda could work with Mike and William
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