#;THREAD / FIVE HARGREEVES

[normaltothemax]

@equationsoff

“Can I ask you something?” He didn’t actually wait for an answer, just went ahead and asked. “Why didn’t you ever choose a different name for yourself?” An actual name, he very carefully didn’t say, because while “Five” might not be a “real” name in the typical sense, it was his. Had been for decades. Five was clearly attached to it, and Viktor wasn’t trying to offend—he was just curious, in the most honest sense of the word.

[myhyperfixationisiforgot]

"If the Hargreeves had phones every season would end in two episodes!" Babe if there were cell phones in the Umbrella Academy it would be so much worse. Not a single person in that house is capable of conveying information in a coherent manner. Diego has them all blocked. Viktor only listens to his voicemail in bulk once a month. Five developed his own shorthand during the apocalypse that he truly thinks is coherent to other human beings (it is not). Luther, by nature of who he is, absolutely Does Not Text for any reason and keeps calling the others. Klaus is carrying at least four conversations in the same thread at any given point in time. Even if they all managed to remember that they owned phones (unlikely) and then proceeded to convey relevant information in a timely fashion (even less likely), not a single one of them would figure it out. Allison could probably muster the braincells necessary but would not under any circumstances manage to stay on task long enough to do anything about it. Phones would absolutely not help with anything at all.

[doomdays]

luther’s stomach is immediately in knots when five mentions his time stuck in the future—   whenever he’s forced to think about it,   it’s a lot to digest,   a mix of his own familiarity with that kind of isolation,   no way to talk to his family and no way to know if they’re okay,   no way to help himself when things started to get too bleak,   and nothing but the photos of his siblings and viktor’’s book to keep him sane.   and then there’s the regret—   all those years of resentment he held for five,   believing that his departure was intentional,   like he was choosing to leave their family and team behind and force luther to pick up the pieces back at home.  that resentment that turned into longing,   missing his brother and hoping he was still out there somewhere,   but he’d been too scared to push klaus for any insight,   despite how willing he would be on a mission.    he listens now,   uncomfortable with the reminder but more importantly,   grateful that five’s opening up—-   because he knows how rare that is. ��

it’s a heavy question,   one that luther feels like he knows how to answer,   yet when he opens his mouth,   nothing comes out.    for so long,   it was home because that’s all he knew.   it was home because that was the only option.    it was home because at least he was no longer rotting in the most beautiful place in the world,  separated from everyone he loved and everyone who could’ve made his life into something much more rich and vibrant.   his father is gone,   even if he,   in another form now—-    so why can’t it be home now?    why can’t he turn it into something better,    something that would make him feel good about all the years he wasted in this very building,   believing that his presence here meant something,   when really,   his father was just keeping him prisoner there until he needed him next?    the answer:    because he deserves more.    years ago,  when he was in his early 20s,   his siblings had all left and the umbrella academy had lost its relevancy,   he remembers reminding his father that he was the only one left,   and he could feel the weight of that statement:    why was that?   he was ready to leave.   he was just scared.   and then,   before he had the chance,   he almost died,   reginald changed him,  and he felt like there was truly no way out of this.   

but there is.   he felt it when he first met the sparrows,   how relieved he was that he no longer had to be number one,   no longer had to be a superhero,   no longer had to be anything but luther.   and somehow,  he’s still back here again.

❝  no,  ❞   he finally answers,  hanging his head.   ❝   i guess i’m just scared that  .  .  .   nothing will, ❞    he admits.   when they were kids,  admitting any kind of fear felt forbidden,  like they were bound to get in trouble or any of his siblings were going to use that against him,  trying to claim his spot for themselves.  but now,  as comfortable with his vulnerability as he’s become over the past few years  (  and past few apocalypses—  )   the confession comes out a lot easier now.   ❝  at least this is a place i know.   you know?  ❞   but not really.   this isn’t the exact house they grew up in,  and maybe that’s part of the problem.   ❝  is it so wrong that i wanted to believe this could be something better for someone else than it was for us?  ❞    he glances around now,  small corners of the home renovated by various of luther’s projects,  but as a whole,   it’s still better left rotting.

home. as the months, years, decades of ash and ruin and loneliness dragged on like road - rash against the softest parts of him, filing them down to the bone ; pieces of him left behind and buried there with everything else— home was. . . memory. it, too, whittled down to something skeletal with time, as all things do, but the shape of it stayed the same. its outline, faded impressions of the foyer five just stepped through today, the sharp corners of the fireplace, the picture frames hooked to every wall. the slant of light on the kitchen cabinets, on golden curls. the blurred, hurried sound of too many pairs of shoes racing down over hardwood all at once. a static voice droning over breakfast, cords tucked behind his ears before bed. sprawling out on the cold floor after training, full - body wracked with aftershocks, even the gleam of lamplight off a monocle. scavenged leftovers of his life. beggars can't be choosers.

no, luther isn't wrong. contrary to what he and the rest of their siblings might believe, five actually thinks luther's right about things more often than he's wrong about them. home was always in this shape ; same ceiling, same floors, and luther may have spent the larger part of his own months, years, decades taking the shapes of their house and trying to make a home out of them. playing house. “ when i was stuck in the future that first time. . . ” he begins, the words feeling threadbare before they've even left him. ash, more ash in his mouth. he frowns at the cobwebbed corners of the room. luther hardly needs a personal anecdote for this.

he thinks of dolores, suddenly, set about whatever corner of the apocalypse he called home for the week with the utmost care.

“ it was never wrong to want to make this place a home, ” he answers just as suddenly, rather plain, dusting off the back of his throat. luther looks just as lost as he always did, if not at least a little less in his own body. five considers the space left between their shoulders, now. still. “ does it. . . feel like home to you ? ” he prods further, born and bred button - pusher ; even his very skin, pushed and pushed and pushed without ceasing. huh. unsure, his body leans in like an answer, nudging an arm that used to be wider than his own head, once upon a time ; a mirrored motion. copy 'n paste. he thinks of dolores' plastic elbow, cold and interlocked with his own. luther's body is warm and solid beneath the pressure.

[hihomeghere]

Hello my new favorite creator! I just saw your response to my last request (the soft y/n dom one) and I'm deffo going to formally request you turn it into a story (if you're not doing that already) I've been reading more of your content and it's quickly becoming an addiction 😅 any way I'll be a big supporter from the shadows <333 -🧛 anon (Naming myself lol)

Routine | Five Hargreeves / F!Reader

Part of the Tesoro series (Can be read as a one shot)

Word Count : 2.3k Summary : After the confession, Five and reader head back to a hotel room. Soft dom y/n. Aged up!Five Warnings/Tags : Smut, handjob, masturbation, piv, cursing, fluff at the end, this is filth enjoy <3 ( I do not own the umbrella academy or any of it's characters )

If Five was anything, he was a creature of habit. His father had ingrained that in him from a young age. Chores, training, studies, hell even his meal times were scheduled. His entire life was based on routine. 

Then he was stuck in the apocalypse, and even though there were millions of things Five could be mad at his father about, he had to appreciate his sense for routine. It kept him alive, he still had a set time to eat (if he had anything to eat), but instead of training he was scavenging. Picking through a wasteland for anything edible, along with trying to find a sustainable source of clean water. While picking through for food, he would also collect anything to help conserve his energy. Things like his bike or wagon, etc. His definition of ‘resting’ was mainly anytime he could sit down. During those periods he would work on equations, trying to find a way out of there and back to his family. And although it wasn’t strictly in his routine, mental breakdowns always seemed to weasel their way into his day. 

Thankfully, both of those routines were a thing of the past. Now his routine consisted of reading up on case files before going into the field. He’d kill whoever he had to and afterwards he’d reward himself with fucking his fist until he fell asleep. Did it make him feel a bit disgusted with himself, yes, but masturbation had been the only stress relief he’d ever had. Again, just another one of his constants throughout the years. What he hadn’t accounted for was you. At first he had marked you off as a nuisance. Like the cockroaches that somehow managed to survive alongside Five, although you were much nicer to look at. 

Five knew he was in trouble when he started subconsciously adding your routines into his. You would start getting hungry around 11:30 every day, like clockwork. So he had started planning his lunches for around 11:30, not because the thought of you eating alone made his heart seize in his chest, just to make his work more efficient. It aggravated him to have to wait for you to be finished with your lunch, only for him to get hungry once you returned. So out of convenience, he started eating lunch with you. Little things like that.

He couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. You were always one to throw wrenches in the works. Although he didn’t account for a deviation of this size into his plan. When he kissed you, a silent confession on his feelings, he knew there would be no going back. You were it for him. He loved you and you seemed to share those feelings. Your lips crashed against his as he fumbled with the key to the hotel room. You giggled into the kiss, something so sickly sweet. His hands were back on you as soon as the door swung open. Pulling the key out of the lock and throwing it onto a side table as he kicked the door close behind you. His hands were everywhere, touching and squeezing. Your breasts, oh god, your tits. He couldn’t get enough of them, his hand flew under your blouse, pinching your nipple through your  bra. You gasped softly, your hands threading through his hair. He stopped, admiring your flushed face as he kicked off his shoes. Your lips parted slightly, hot breath fanning across his face, a light splattering of blood across your cheek. 

You pulled away, and he almost whined at the loss of contact. What was happening to him? Did you really have such a hold on him? He was taken back to his younger years, when his father would read from Homer’s Odyssey. He had never paid much attention to the sirens, that was more of Diegos and Luthers interest. He wished he had listened to Circe’s warnings like Odysseus, now he was sure he had met a siren in person. He was bewitched by you, drawn to you like iron to a magnet. Five was sure you were more beautiful than Helen of Troy, hell even Aphrodite would be jealous of your beauty. 

“I’m going to take a shower.” You smiled, pushing him back onto the bed before kissing his cheek. Another one of your routines, always showering after a mission. You made a show of undressing yourself, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. Then shimmying out of your trousers. You hooked your fingers under your bra strap, pulling them down at an agonizing pace. You unhooked your bra, throwing it onto the chair. Five’s eyes never left your body until you were behind the bathroom door. He gulped, his cock painfully pressed against the crotch of his slacks. He hurried to pull himself free, the buckle of his belt clinking metal against metal. He started to get frantic in his movements, unzipping his pants and kicking them off along with his underwear. His cock sprung up against his stomach. He let out a sigh, spitting into his hand. He grabbed himself, lubricating his dick with his spit. At times like this he wondered if was seriously fucked in the head. But normally once he ran his thumb over the slit on his head any negative thoughts would be tucked away. He arched his neck, letting out a shaky breath as he started to stroke himself. His mind wandering to you, always you. “Fuck,” he sighed squeezing the base of his cock. Your flushed face, a blush painting your cheeks. That slutty fucking skirt you wore, tight around your hips, he didn’t know how you got that little thing over your ass. He groaned, his eyes rolling back as he picked up the pace. How your lips felt against his throat as you ordered him to cum, your tits bouncing with each of his thrusts. His hips jolted up into his hand, he craved more, his other hand gently cupped his balls. He was close, his breath getting caught in his throat. “Y/n.” He whined, his eyes fluttering close.

“Starting without me?” You asked leaning on the doorway to the bathroom. Clad in only a towel, tightly wrapped around your body. He froze, caught red handed with his pants down. Fuck he was so close. He tugged on himself, chasing after his high as it slowly slipped away. You stopped him, swatting his hand away from his dick. “Excuse me?” You scoffed, your arms crossed above him. You stared down at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows knitting together. You grabbed his face, your fingers pressing his lips together, his skin dimpling under your grip. His breath hitched, his eyes going wide. “Y/n, what are you doing?” He said through squished lips.

“You started without me.” You repeated, a wolfish grin spreading across your face. He scoffed, rolling his eyes. You turned his face so he was looking at you, his green eyes wide. He let out a surprised sound, “Now, would you like to finish?” You asked with a commanding voice. His eyes flicked all over your face. 

“Y-yes.” He stuttered, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. You let go of his face, walking backwards until the back of your knees hit the plush chair. You sank down onto the chair, slowly undoing your towel, letting it pool around your body. 

He stared at you, his eyebrows still furrowed. You chuckled to yourself, his expression taking you back to the first night you spent together. So unsure of himself, his hands twitched against the sheets. His dick stood at attention, brushing against his white shirt. His angry red tip made a wet spot on his shirt. 

“Take off your shirt first,” you said, leaning back in the chair, spreading your legs. It was like he had been frozen until your command. His eager fingers moved to his shirt, unbuttoning the buttons quickly. He tore it off of him, throwing it onto the floor. He turned to you for his next instructions, a newfound glint in his eye. “You can touch yourself.” You cooed, immediately his hand wrapped around his cock. Stroking himself with fever, he wet his bottom lip, his hips jolting against his fist. Five was so pretty like this, not that he wasn’t a gorgeous man, but he was so vulnerable. Pride bloomed in your chest knowing that you were the only one allowed to see Five like this. His head fell back, giving you a gorgeous view of his neck. He let out a strangled whine, his lips parting. You sat up, unable to help yourself. You stalked towards him, your hands holding his shoulders. Your lips attacked his neck, nipping and sucking on his neck. Dark spots adorning his pale skin.

“Fuck,” he moaned, leaning into your touch. You reached down, pulling his hand away. He let out a frustrated whine, biting his lip as he stared into your eyes. You smiled sweetly, kissing his cheek over his two freckles, before squeezing his shaft. You began to pump him harshly, sucking a deep mark on his collarbone. His hands flew to your hips, holding them with a vice like grip. “I’m gonna cum.” He said through his gritted teeth, “please let me cum.” He squeezed your hips, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

“You can cum baby,” You chuckled, licking a stripe up his neck. He cried out his hips jolting against your hand as ropes of cum shot out onto your fist. You grinned, working him through his orgasm. A pained expression painting his features. As he came down from his high, he softly rubbed circles onto your hips. 

“That was…” He trailed off clearing his throat, his hands drifting upwards on his body. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him flush against your body.

“Never would have guessed Mr. Five Hargreeves would be so obedient.” You laughed, kissing him. He pulled away from the kiss.

“Are you trying to get a rise out of me y/n?” He said, cocking his head slightly. A smug smile spread across his face, his eyes darkened. You felt like the prey instead of the predator under his gaze.

“I would never dream of it.” You smirked, feeling him get hard against your stomach. “Already?” You chuckled, rolling your eyes. 

“I can’t help that I have the most gorgeous girl in front of me, naked.” He mused, raising his eyebrows. You pushed him back, his back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. He smirked, propping himself up on his elbows. You crawled on top of him, setting yourself over his waist. He leaned his head forward, his lips covering your right breast. You lowered yourself onto him, moaning as he pushed through your opening. He let out a pained cry against your breast. 

“Are you alright?” You asked, stalling your movement.

“Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes shut tight, his hands gripping your hips, stilling any movements you would make. “Just sensitive, tesoro.” He chuckled looking up at you through his heavy eyelashes. You grinned, you wanted nothing more than to have Five under you a blubbering mess. And you were gonna have it. 

You rolled your hips against him, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. He let out a choked gasp, his head falling back against the bed.

“You like that baby?” You asked, dragging your hips up and down against him. 

“Fuck yes.” He whined, arching his back off the bed, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head into your chest. You rocked back and forth, Five’s fingernails dragging down your back. You moaned, pushing him back against the bed. You leaned back, propping yourself up on his thighs as you jutted your hips forward again and again. That familiar coil tightening in your stomach. “F-fuck.” He cried, his hips jolting against your pelvis, his pubic hair rubbing at your clit. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he bit his lip, his hands gripping the sheets beneath you. 

“You feel so good, you make me feel so good Five.” You huffed, struggling to keep up your pace. He whimpered a tear falling down his cheek. Suddenly his body jolted, his hands gripping your waist holding you down onto his hips as he came with a cry. You grinned against him, reaching your own orgasm. You moaned, high pitched and breathy as his cock twitched inside you. His cum painting your walls as you clenched down on him

“Christ woman.” He sighed, his arm covering his eyes. You pulled away his arm, wiping away a stray tear.

“Glad to be of service.” You asked sweetly, kissing his cheek before pecking his lips. You slowly got off of his lap, his softened cock slipping out of you. You laid down beside him, lightly trailing your fingers over his chest. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer. Your head laying on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your ear. 

“I love you.” He says, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Are you thinking of someone else?” You tease, staring up at him through your lashes. 

“No.” He says, rolling his eyes feigning annoyance. He sits up, you prop yourself up on your arm. “I’m serious,” he cups your face, “I love you so goddamn much.” He says kissing you. You were sure you had died and gone to heaven. His hand against your face, with his soft slightly bruised lips against yours. You sighed into the kiss, feeling like a love sick teenager.

“I love you.” You giggled wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you, I love you.” You kissed the corner of his lips, his cheek, his forehead. He chuckled softly, as you met his eyes. “I love you Five Hargreeves.” You whispered, resting your forehead against his.

“And I you.” He smiled. Five would happily add anything pertaining to you into his routine any day. 

[dietmountaindewb8by]

Prologue

alright peeps, here we go. the yandere will be a bit of a slow build and y/n and five will spend a considerable amount of time apart. later (MUCH LATER) i will make a post stating which chapter they first truly interact. for now, it is hopeless pining and torture on the other side

PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU WANT TO BE IN THE TAG LIST--NO ONE IS TAGGED IN THIS ONE, I JUST GOTTA HOPE IT REACHES THE RIGHT PEOPLE LMAOO

warnings: neglectful five, references to a past abusive relationship, references of verbal abuse, injury, five just being weird ig

His fingers were threaded through his hair, a pale white against the black masses stuck to his head that felt as if they were suffocating more every second they remained. His bones had long turned brittle and his muscles ached as he poured himself over the same sheet of paper over and over and over again.

Stark white against the mahogany beneath his elbows. Bones against dust. 

The candle Allison had placed next to him as a comfort emitted the smell of fresh peaches and suddenly he yearned for spring again. The season where you were happiest prancing around fields and plucking flowers from their place tucked into the earth. Even in your old age you were spry, zipping through meadows whenever you could.

Of course he wouldn’t join you without a price, but you paid it all the same and were glad when he made his appearance next to you. It wasn’t as if you two were near each other all that often, anyway.

More often than not, tears stained your cheeks and his face was flushed red with anger and everything and nothing all at once.

He hated you. You loved him. 

Only when he saw the sea of red leak from your side–all for him–did he realize that maybe you were not one to be hated. You were too kind for that, too much like the flowers that you adored so much.

And so as you grew colder, realizing the monster he was, he touched you more. Held your hand. Whispered in your ear at night. 

He was planning to kiss you upon your landing in 2019. When he brought his hands to his face–no longer wrinkled and calloused with wisdom and long days of labor–he realized that they were meant for yours.

“Y/N,” he whispered, ignoring the faces of his siblings to search for yours. His brows furrowed as panic grasped at his chest. “I–”

He whirled around, his eyes scanning for something. Anything. A body, a heap, a pile of bones. Something.

He took Klaus by the lapel of his jacket. “I had a girl with me. She–did you see a girl? Any of you. Did you see a girl fall through with me?”

His siblings looked at one another, and he had his answer.

So there he sat before the same page that got you two into this mess. Over and over in the margins of the lined mass of numbers he would scratch the line of your jaw into the paper, a gentle swoop but one that reminded him of better days all the same.

The world was safe enough, he decided as he stood up on shaking legs, stuffing his gun deep into his jacket pocket. 

He stared at the lines he drew before taking an empty notebook and putting it in a satchel along with the few bottles spared in the late Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ liquor cabinet before he stared into the abyss.

And he blinked.

[thebearmage]

Reborn - Five Hargreeves x Dolores - Chapter One

Rated 18+/Mature

(Chapter One) (Chapter Two)

Chapter One - Awake "Do you trust me?"

"Viktor!? What are you doing!? Stop her!"

"Allison, don't do it!"

"Allison, wait!"

The entire universe goes dark as if someone turned off the power on an old TV - there's a beat, then two, then three. 

She startles awake with a gasp, breath filling her lungs, looking up at the white ceiling tiles. She's laying on her back, trembling, body working overdrive as it struggles to grasp its new mechanisms. 

Everything is too bright; everything is too loud. Her head hurts, her body hurts, and everything felt constricting and too loose at the same time. Before they can process what's happening, they turn onto her side and vomit. 

It's mostly bile, for her stomach has nothing in it, never has. She pants roughly as spots dance before her vision, black threads falling into her face as they attempt to push themselves into a kneeling position. 

A hand is on her back. She looks up to see a store worker - a kind-looking woman, pear-shaped, with gray hair and soft eyes. 

"Are you alright, honey?" She asks, "Did you fall?"

The words sound like gibberish for a moment, her neurons firing faster than ever before. They blink in confusion for a moment before the words finally register. 

"I…" 

She turns and coughs as soon as she tries to speak. Her throat feels like sandpaper; she grips it softly as she coughs, and the woman rubs her back. 

"Easy, now, take it slow. You must have passed out," 

The store worker helps her to her feet, and she has to grab the clothes rack next to them in order to stand properly. Her legs felt weak…unused. 

How…how did she know…anything? She didn’t know what a store or clothes were; she knew nothing 30 seconds ago. But now she has all this shit in her head, thoughts pounding against her skull as she tries to make sense of it all. 

"Oh honey," The worker helps balance her, "What happened?"

They don't answer her at first, looking behind her to see small platforms. Two nicely dressed mannequins occupied two platforms, but the third - the one in the middle - was empty. 

Thoughts come streaming together in a whirlwind, causing her head to hurt. They look down at themselves: black and white polka-dot t-shirt, black pencil skirt, pale skin. 

They look to the side to see a black beret and matching shoes near the base of the middle pedestal. Her breathing picks up. They grip her arms so hard they feel her fingers dig into her skin. Panic starts to rise within her, and the worker gently grabs her face to make eye contact. 

"Sweetie, look at me," she instructs softly, "Can you hear me? What color is my jacket?"

Her eyes flicker down to the woman's vest, "B-blue," her voice is raspy as if she's never spoken before.

"Good, what color is your skirt?"

"B-black?"

"Very good," the woman smiles as they slowly start to calm down, "what color is the floor,"

"Gray,"

The woman helps them take deep breaths, and soon, her pounding heart slows. 

"Now, what's your name, darling?" the woman asks again. 

She blinks before answering, "Dolores,"

»»————　★　————««

Dolores sits in the department store's break room. She looks at her reflection in a little mirror. She guessed the women used to correct their makeup during their breaks. 

Dark hair and green eyes looked back at her; her face was not too angular but not round. Her eyes lidded but not tried looking. Her cheeks were rosy, and her lips a soft pink. Dolores's dark hair stopped right at her shoulders, straight but with a slight wave. 

It's not what either of them imagined. 

Dolores breaks the intense eye contact with her reflection to look at the cup of a dark liquid in her hands. 

Coffee…right… it's called coffee. 

Dolores, curious, raises the drink to her lips and takes a sip, nearly spitting the bitter liquid out. 

"Not a coffee fan?"

They looked up to see the woman before walking into the room. Dolores tried to smile. Her mind was slowly piercing itself together, memories fitting back into place. She didn't know how it happened, but she was alive. Plastic was replaced with skin, and a hollow torso was replaced with organs and blood. 

"Not really," Dolores laughs softly, coughing a bit. Her vocal cords were still not used to working. Or rather, she was still getting used to having a voice.

"Well, it'll help either way," the woman sits in a chair across from Dolores, looking at them softly, "That was one nasty fall you took there,"

Dolores nods, "I remember…"

"What happened?"

Dolores takes a moment to answer, her newly born thoughts firing rapidly. What happened isn’t normal. She isn’t normal. She can’t tell the truth. She’d be accused of being insane and convicted. She had a lie. To hide. Protect herself.

"I was trying to see the hat the mannequin was wearing. I was too short, so I stepped up on the platform to see. I slipped," Dolores took another sip of the coffee, wincing at the taste again, "It was stupid, I'm sorry,"

The woman looks sympathetic, "Well, you're okay, and you learned not to do that again," she laughs softly. Dolores smiles. 

"Is there anyone I can call for you?" the woman presses. "Family or friends?"

Dolores shakes her head, "No,"

"Spouse? Wife? Husband?"

A face flashes in her mind - well, two faces: an old man and a teenage boy. But Dolores knew it was the same person. It was--

"No," she says, "I'm…alone,"

The woman looks concerned, "Are you--"

"Thanks for the coffee," Dolores gently cuts her off, "And for helping me, but I better get going,"

The worker sputters as Dolores exits the break room, walking down the aisles to the door. 

"Wait!"

Dolores turns back around to see the woman hobbling after her, "Are you sure you're okay, honey? I can call someone to help you,"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dolores tries to smile, "Thank you again,"

The woman looks like she wants to protest, but Dolores turns away and slips out of the store. 

»»————　★　————««

Dolores doesn't know how long she's been walking. Her feet were starting to hurt, but she felt like she couldn't stop. She's never been able to move, walk, or pose independently; she's always been guided by someone else to pose silently, frozen. 

What was she going to do? She had some understanding of how the world worked; he would keep complaining about it to no end, and he sometimes brought her to different places, riding around on the back of a wagon…or was it a bike? Maybe both?

Should they go to him? Ask him to take them in?

Dolores shook the thought away. No. Hell no. They were not going back. Every time they were around him, they got shot at, thrown, used as leverage, or abandoned. Yeah, no fucking thanks. 

So what are they to do? They need a job, a place to live, food and water. 

Dolores noticed that it was getting dark out. In a slight panic, they looked around, seeing they were in the…darker parts of town. 

The only establishment nearby was a club, and there was nowhere else to go. Dolores crossed the street and entered. As soon as the door closed, she felt eyes on her. Most of the patrons were men, with scarcely dressed women dancing on poles, serving drinks, and even sitting with them. 

Dolores felt uncomfortable but knew she couldn't back out—not with how the men looked at her. Most were older, with graying hair and crooked teeth. Some were younger, middle-aged, and handsome, with evil glints in their eyes. Dolores felt like…she…they were looking at her as if she were a doll again. For a brief moment, Dolores thought she had turned back, only to snap back to herself when a voice behind her went. 

“You going to walk in, missy, or keep blocking the door?”

Dolores paused; she also didn’t have anywhere else to go. So, holding her head up high, she walked to the bar at the end. 

"Hey, sugar, what can I get ya?" The bartender asks, looking happy to serve someone other than a sleazy older man. 

"Just water is fine," Dolores answered, and the woman nodded and walked away. 

Dolores nurses her water for the next hour, ignoring the men talking and staring at her. She needs a job, but what sane person would hire a woman with no history - no birth certificate, no social security number, no driver's license, no fucking proof of identification. 

This…was going to be a lot harder than they thought. Dolores sighs, racking her head. Many of her memories were fuzzy and incomplete, but a few were vivid and clear. On top of that, she had a lot of information flowing into her head like a river, as if someone had activated the default settings on a video game character. 

She knows what a video game is…?

"Hey, princess!" A gruff voice calls out. Dolores looks up to see a nicely dressed older man in a crimson suit looking at her. He was big, with graying hair, flushed skin, a double chin, gold bracelets and necklaces, and a golden tooth. He beckons her over. 

"Come sit next to me, darling. I wanna get a good look at you," 

Dolores' eyes narrow, and she sips her water without breaking eye contact or moving. The man's smile is full of false warmth. 

"Oh, come on, princess. I won't do nothin' honest! Just wanna get a closer look at you,"

Dolores was about to refuse when she noticed the fear on the bartender's face. They made eye contact, and the woman gestured for her to go over. With a sigh, Dolores took her water and plopped down beside the man. 

"There we go. That wasn't so hard, right?" The man leans closer to Dolores, who leans back a bit, "You're a pretty one, all right. What's your name?"

"Dolores," Dolores answers shortly, "Yours?"

"They call me Mr. Higgins. A pleasure to meet you, Miss. Dolores," 

Higgins takes Dolores' hand and kisses it. They want nothing more than to rip it away. They steel her expression and sip her water. 

"So, Miss Dolores," Higgins speaks casually, either not noticing or ignoring her discomfort, "What does a pretty thing like you do?"

Dolores sees the trap before it's laid, but they also see an opportunity, "I don't have a job right now,"

Higgins has the decency to pretend to be shocked, "Oh? Well, that's a shame. How do you pay for your house?"

Dolores starts to wonder if this man has been following her, "I don't have one,"

Higgins gasps in fake horror, "You're homeless? Oh princess, that's not right," he retakes her hand, "Let me help you, darlin'. I can help you get back on your feet! Work for me. I'll let you stay in one of my backrooms," Higgins's smile is full of malice. Dolores can also see the sharp teeth, "Nobody like you should be wandering around alone, I'll take good care of you,"

Knowing this was a bad idea but desperately needing the money, Dolores struggled with her decision. She knew she was walking into a trap, but the allure of a job and a place to stay was too strong. She plastered a grateful smile on her face and nodded, "Thank you very much! I'd like that!"

As she agreed to Higgins's offer, she felt a surge of anger and frustration. She wanted nothing more than to punch that wicked smile off the man's face as it grew in triumph. But they knew they had to play along, for now. Dolores was determined to find a way out of her current situation, no matter what it took. 

[clementineofmine]

Ooh boy, what acts to follow!! But I'm happy to keep the Five whump going....note this is 100% a wip so please excuse any mistakes....and the premise for this is simple but rather silly... what if before they make it to Leonard's house in s1e7, Five, Allison, and Diego are chased down by Commission agents and have to escape by boat?

Let's see if I can make this work on mobile ooh boy....

***

Five made it to the pier and hopped over the side of the nearest speedboat. Allison jumped into the next seat as Five ripped open the compartment under the ignition and began pulling out wiring. 

“Can you even drive a boat?” Allison asked. 

“I can do everything,” Five gritted out, ripping wires with his hands and his teeth. 

Allison was still having a hard time adjusting to Five's supposed age. “Right,”she said. “You're a grumpy grandpa now.”

“Exactly,” he deadpanned, not even bothering to look at her.

The boat swayed as Diego hopped on the back, landing gracefully on both feet, even as he redirected the bullets from the Commission agents whose black combat boots were already shaking the pier. “Now would be a great time to get out of here,” he yelled to Five.

On cue, the boat roared to life. Five slammed the throttle into reverse and Allison was thrown against the dash.  Five backed them not only out of the slip, but the full length of the marina at full reverse power. “Hold on to something,” he yelled, then spun the boat around and slammed the throttle forwards. 

“They're following us,” Allison warned, watching the Commission agents commandeer two boats of their own. “Where are we going, Five?”

“Away from here,” he said with a grimace. Now that they were speeding forward on open water, Allison saw the hand he had been using on the throttle clutch at his stomach, pulling at a suspiciously dark spot on the uniform vest.

“Are you okay? Did you get hit too?” Allison asked. She hadn't seen Five get hit, but he would have told them, right?

Five shook his head. “Not this time.” 

Not this time. Allison didn't have time to unpack that before a shot plowed into the front of the boat.

“Diego!” she yelled over her shoulder. ”What's going on back there?”

“Fuck, they must have snipers on the shore,” Diego said, ducking and trying to deduce where the bullets were coming from. “Five what the hell did you do to piss these guys off?

“I may—,” Five said through gritted teeth, his eyes glued to the horizon. He was still grimacing, and Allison noticed with growing concern that his breathing was becoming faster and shallower. Was the dark spot on his uniform growing larger? “—have blown up their headquarters.” 

“You what?!?!” Diego and Allison exclaimed simultaneously.

“Don't really have time to explain,” Five muttered. “Hang on!” he yelled, then yanked the wheel sharply to the right to detour down a busy shipping canal. This time, Allison was thrown sideways against the hull. She cried out as her injured arm smacked into the cold metal.  

“Watch it, Five!” Diego threatened. Another series of bullets whizzed over their head, this time from behind them. Apparently at least one of the chase boats had made the turn with them. 

“You watch out for the bullets Diego, and leave the driving to me!” Five called back angrily. 

It took Allison several seconds to sort herself back on the seat, because Five kept whipping the boat erratically to avoid the heavy traffic of the canal. Horns screamed in protest as they screamed by the slower moving barges and assorted industrial traffic.

Just as she got sorted, she heard a small noise from the seat beside her. “Alli—” Five wheezed.

“Five?” Allison was alarmed to see that he was sweating profusely now, his head swaying and nodding towards his chest. 

Something in the periphery of her vision screamed for her attention. She looked forward and realized with alarm that their boat was gaining too quickly on the next barge. “Five!” she screamed  even as she scrambled for the wheel. She grabbed hold of it, yanking it hard towards the left. The boat skidded dangerously close to the barge, then began fishtailing as Allison struggled to maintain control of the turn. 

The sudden motion must have jarred Five awake. His head shot up and he cursed, then fumbled with the throttle, his movement clumsy, but ultimately successful. He reduced power and got their trajectory under control, then slammed the throttle forward again as soon as they were clear of the barge.  

Allison's eyes widened as she saw the blood dripping between Five’s fingers grasping the throttle. When he moved his hand away, a sticky red handprint remained.

“Five! Your hand!” Allison gasped. And it wasn't just his hand, she realized in growing horror.

Five blinked heavily several times, his breath coming in a rattling wheeze. At her words, he looked down, then blinked again as if noticing his blood soaked uniform for the first time. “Oh,” he said quietly, his head swaying erratically. He turned towards Allison, his face ashen and his eyes half lidded and unfocused. “I thin—” he said, his words slurring over his tongue. “I thin’ I’m gon’ pass’ out.” 

***

Alright friends come out and play @sharkneto @assaily @claracivry @ford-ye-fiji @rockinlibrarian or anybody else!!!

Wip Wednesday!

Tagged by: @theanxioushobbit

Thanks for the tag!!

Sorry to add something really sad onto your heartwarming Dave WIP. It’s the only thing I’ve written recently that’s not the main fic I’m currently working on (icttwya).

I’ll explain the context of the scene afterwards

To anyone who likes Klaus I apologise for this lol

TW// Graphic Depictions of Violence, Descriptions of Injury, Head Injury, Blood Mention, Major Character Death (mentioned)

—

Diego didn’t think before his hands wrapped around the metal pole discarded on the ground. He leapt to his feet with the speed of a cheetah and lunged forward, weapon raised to swing. Five’s head snapped towards him, fear flickering in his eyes as the metal collided with the side of his head, sending him sprawling to the ground with a yelp, nose smashing into the concrete with a harsh crack.

“You fucking traitor!” Diego screamed, tossing the pole to the ground and striding forward.

Five’s hands flew to the ground from where they were cradling his head and he scrambled backwards away from him. “Diego—” he groaned, what sounded like desperation soaking his voice. Blue sparked around his wrists but the space around him barely rippled, energy dissipating quickly.

Diego didn’t falter, advancing forward with haste and removing the last knife from his holster, holding it high above his head. He grabbed Five by the collar of his t-shirt and hoisted him up into the air, slamming his back against the wall. Five clawed weakly at his grip, the blood on his hands smearing onto Diego’s. Diego felt sick.

“You— you monster.” he growled. “Why did you do it?”

Five’s shoulders shook, eyes glossy and wet. A humourless laugh tumbled out of his mouth like the blood trickling out of his nose.

“Answer me!” Diego shook him. Five’s head lolled forward like a rag doll, gasping. “Why did you do it?” Diego’s lips trembled, eyes watering. “W-w-why?”

A panicked laugh bubbled out of Five’s throat. “I don’t know.” he whispered, eyes wide and manic, hot tears dripping down his face. Diego’s eyes drifted down to the blood staining his white t-shirt.

Klaus’ blood.

“I don’t know.”

Rage boiled Diego’s blood. “You don’t kn-kn-know?” he panted, anger clouding his mind. “You fucking k-ki—” he choked, a fire building in his chest. He yelled, bringing the knife down fast towards Five’s neck.

Five flinched, eyes widening with fear. “Wait!” he shrieked. “Diego, please!” his hands shot up to protect himself, eyes wide with panic, tears dribbling out the corners. “Don’t!”

Diego hesitated, knife shaking in his hand, mere inches away from Five’s neck.

“It wasn’t me!” he sobbed, “It wasn’t me! I didn’t— I couldn’t—”

“You’re covered in his b-blood you piece of sssshit!” Diego retorted. It was weaker than he would have liked.

Five had killed Klaus.

Diego had watched Five murder Klaus in cold blood.

—

Basically the story is that Five gets mind controlled by someone from The Sparrow Academy and they make him brutally murder Klaus in front of Diego. And Diego is understandably very upset about it. It’s quite sad.

Tagging (only if you want to): @jellybeanium124 @conchshell @thehargreevesfam and anyone else who wants too!

Basically if you have a WIP or part of one that you’d like to share then you can!

[klausshargreevess]

No bc you know if the Hargreeves had tiktok you KNOW it’s going down, Klaus addiction to rehab journey where it’s just like party TikTok’s to healthy at home remedies and meditation, Luther being a gym bro bc you know he’d love to show off his strength, Allison and Claire daughter mom duo, Viktor barely if not then rarely posting, five doesn’t have tiktok he thinks it’s full of stupid brainrot (what an old man), Diego posting his mail runs, Lila just uses it as a form of entertainment. BUT THE MOST HILARIOUS THING WOULD BE IF HER KIDS POSTED AND HAD A COMPLETE THREAD ON “My mom cheated on my dad with her brother-in-law (not related by blood) (technically our uncle)”

Also Claire would so tell the family gossip with Klaus, it’s a canon event I fear.

[atriza]

Unraveling Threads pt. 3

Yandere Five Hargreeves x Reader

Part one Part two

Summary: Y/N, trapped in a windowless room by Five Hargreeves, decides she must escape his obsessive grip. After convincing Five to take her for a walk outside, she spots an opportunity and makes a desperate run for freedom through a forest. Despite her efforts, Five catches up to her after a painful fall down an embankment. His anger and betrayal are clear, and he reasserts his control over Y/N, telling her she can never leave. As she is led back into captivity, Y/N realizes there may be no escape from his obsession.

Word count: 995

**Content Warning:**

This story contains dark and potentially distressing themes, including obsessive behavior, violence, manipulation, and psychological distress. It portrays a relationship that is unhealthy and toxic, where one character exhibits controlling and possessive tendencies that lead to extreme actions.

If you are sensitive to these themes or find them triggering, please consider skipping this story.

Have Fun Reading!

Days blended into an agonizing blur for Y/N. Time felt meaningless in the small, windowless room where she was held. The only break in the monotony was Five’s visits—always calm, always collected, always terrifyingly gentle. He would bring her meals, talk to her in a low, soothing voice, and watch her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. The more time passed, the clearer it became that Five’s obsession had spiraled into something far darker than she had imagined.

Y/N knew she had to act. Waiting for Five to come to his senses wasn’t an option anymore. Every time he looked at her, she could feel the walls of her prison closing in, tightening with each passing second. The only way out was to escape—and she had to do it soon.

One evening, when Five entered the room with her dinner, Y/N forced a smile, masking the fear gnawing at her insides. "Five," she began, her voice steady despite the storm raging in her mind, "I’ve been thinking… You’re right. About everything."

Five paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He set the tray down and turned to face her fully, his expression softening. "You’ve come to understand," he said quietly, a hint of relief in his voice.

"I have," Y/N lied, her heart pounding in her chest. She had practiced these words over and over in her mind, knowing this was her one chance. "I know you’re doing this to protect me. And I’m grateful, really. But I can’t stay in this room forever. Maybe…maybe we could go outside? Just for a little while. You’ll be with me the whole time, and I promise I won’t run."

Five studied her closely, his gaze piercing, as if he were trying to read her thoughts. For a moment, Y/N thought she had failed—that he would see through her ruse. But then he nodded, though his eyes remained wary. "We can go for a walk," he agreed, "but you have to understand—if you try to run, I’ll have no choice but to bring you back here. I won’t let anything happen to you, Y/N. I can’t."

Y/N forced herself to meet his gaze, giving him a small, reassuring smile. "I won’t run. I just want to be with you."

The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but it was the only way to get out. As Five led her down a narrow hallway and up a flight of stairs, Y/N’s mind raced, desperately trying to formulate a plan. She had no idea where they were or how far away help might be, but it didn’t matter. She had to take the risk.

When they emerged into the cool evening air, Y/N inhaled deeply, savoring the taste of freedom, however brief it might be. They were in the middle of a dense forest, the trees towering above them, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. The sky was a deepening shade of twilight, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ground.

"This way," Five said, gesturing toward a narrow path that wound through the trees. "It’s quiet here. Safe."

Y/N nodded, her pulse quickening as she followed him down the trail. The further they walked, the more she scanned the area for any sign of escape—a break in the trees, a path leading in another direction, anything that could offer her a chance.

Then, she saw it—a faint, barely visible trail leading off into the woods, partially hidden by thick underbrush. Her heart leapt into her throat. This was her chance. She had to act now, before it was too late.

"Thank you for bringing me out here, Five," she said, forcing her voice to remain calm and steady. "It’s nice to feel the fresh air again."

Five glanced at her, his expression softening slightly. "I’m glad you’re starting to feel better," he replied, though his tone was still cautious. "We can do this more often, if it helps."

Y/N nodded, her mind racing. She knew she had to time this perfectly. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed his hand gently—a small, calculated move to lower his guard. Then, without warning, she yanked her hand free and bolted down the hidden trail, her feet pounding against the earth as she ran.

"Y/N!" Five’s voice rang out behind her, sharp with alarm. She didn’t look back, didn’t dare slow down. The underbrush scratched at her legs, branches whipped at her face, but she pushed through the pain, driven by pure adrenaline and the desperate need to escape.

But she could hear him behind her, his footsteps growing closer, faster. Five was relentless, and Y/N knew he wouldn’t stop until he had her back under his control. She could barely breathe, her chest burning with each gasping breath, but she couldn’t stop—she had to keep going, had to get away.

Suddenly, the ground gave way beneath her, and Y/N let out a cry as she tumbled down a steep embankment. Her body crashed through the undergrowth, pain shooting through her limbs as she hit the ground hard. Dazed and disoriented, she lay there for a moment, the world spinning around her.

She barely had time to catch her breath before Five was there, standing at the top of the embankment, his expression a mix of anger and something that looked like betrayal. He slowly descended toward her, each step deliberate, as if he were trying to keep his emotions in check.

"I told you not to run," he said quietly, his voice low and dangerous. "Why didn’t you listen, Y/N?"

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Five…please," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I was scared. I—I didn’t mean to—"

Five cut her off with a sharp gesture, his eyes narrowing. "You promised me," he said, his voice cold. "You said you wouldn’t run. I trusted you, Y/N."

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision as she looked up at him. "I’m sorry," she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please, just let me go…"

For a moment, Five’s expression softened, and Y/N thought she saw a flicker of the man she once knew—the man who had saved her, who had made her feel safe. But then, just as quickly, the cold, calculating mask slipped back into place.

"I can’t let you go," he said, his voice resolute. "Not now. Not ever. You’re mine, Y/N. You’re my fixed point."

With those words, any hope of reasoning with him vanished. Five reached down and grabbed her arm, his grip firm but not cruel, and pulled her to her feet. Y/N winced as pain shot through her ankle, but she knew there was no point in resisting. She was too exhausted, too injured, and Five was far too strong.

As he led her back through the woods, Y/N’s mind raced, searching for any possible way out of this nightmare. But deep down, she knew the truth. There was no escape. Not from Five. Not from the man who had made her his entire world.

And as they disappeared into the shadows of the forest, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that her fate was sealed—that no matter what she did, she would never truly be free.

-------------------------------------------------------

I hope you like it 🫶🏻

[nickeverdeen]

going to a fancy party with five undercover but they secretly have feeling for eachother?

Going to fancy party with Five Hargreeves undercover while having feelings towards each other

The atmosphere within the Umbrella Academy hummed with anticipation as the siblings prepared for their latest mission—an undercover operation at a high-society gala. The objective: to gather intelligence on a clandestine target lurking within the echelons of the elite.

Y/N, adorned in an elegant gown that seemed to shimmer with every step, found themselves paired with Five Hargreeves for this mission. It was a rarity for them to embark on a mission alone, and the weight of the task heightened as they ventured into the world of glamour, where secrets were often buried beneath layers of opulence.

The grand ballroom, bathed in the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, unfolded before them as they entered the gala. Five, in a tailored suit that spoke of understated sophistication, looked every bit the part of a high-ranking guest. Y/N couldn't help but appreciate the transformation—his usual sharp edges softened by the refined attire.

As they moved through the throngs of elegantly dressed patrons, exchanging pleasantries and coded words, Y/N's admiration for Five grew. His ability to seamlessly blend into the intricate tapestry of the upper crust was a testament to his skill, and with each passing moment, the line between mission and personal sentiment blurred.

Unbeknownst to each other, a clandestine dance unfolded—a dance not of espionage, but of emotions kept hidden. Y/N, catching glimpses of Five in the play of shadows and elegant attire, felt a flutter in their chest—an acknowledgment of feelings that had remained unspoken.

In the midst of the masquerade, Y/N and Five found themselves alone on a balcony overlooking the city lights. The moonlit scene set the stage for a moment that teetered on the edge of revelation.

"You clean up nicely, Five," Y/N remarked, the words carrying a blend of casual banter and genuine admiration.

He smirked, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I do try my best. You don't look too shabby yourself, if I may say."

Y/N, momentarily caught off guard by the compliment, replied with a chuckle, "I suppose we make quite the pair tonight."

As the night unfolded, they navigated the dance of intrigue and deception with a synchronicity that seemed almost rehearsed. Yet, beneath the guise of their undercover personas, a silent understanding lingered—an awareness that their connection was evolving into something beyond the confines of the mission.

The final notes of the orchestra echoed through the grand hall, signaling the end of the gala. Y/N and Five regrouped in the shadows, exchanging a glance that spoke volumes. It was a glance that hinted at the complexities beneath the surface—a shared recognition of unspoken sentiments.

As they returned to the Umbrella Academy, the glamour of the gala faded, but the echoes of the night lingered. Y/N, still adorned in their elegant attire, couldn't shake the feeling that the mission had unveiled more than just covert information. It had unraveled the delicate threads of emotions that danced between them, waiting to be acknowledged.

In the quiet corridors of the academy, amidst the remnants of their undercover roles, Y/N pondered the possibility that the next mission might not just uncover secrets of the world they navigated but could also unravel the mysteries of the feelings that had been concealed beneath the facade of espionage.

[caracarnn]

The kid was a bit younger than him and yet he acted like he could be older even than his father. It was a strange thing, the look of age in the boy's eyes but the physicality that stood out like any other boy that would run across the village green back home. When he had been traveling, he hadn't expected to find anyone. Maybe he should have prepared for it given the current messes in The Westlands that were quickly displacing so many.

"The west?" he mused, casting his gaze off in that direction for a brief moment before he turned to look at him once more. "I can help but...well, where are you from?" He asked, his brows lightly furrowing. He could easily make a Gateway elsewhere so that they could get where the boy needed to go but Rand couldn't help his curiosity. The boy obviously didn't know about him, or rather he didn't know enough about him to cower in fear of the Dragon. That alone was intriguing enough.

"And you've yet to tell me your name?" He put to him with a thin smile. He hadn't been very personable of late. More people cowered and ran from him and plotted against him then greeted him. "All I know is that you're a boy from the west."

@caracarnn sent: I don't know what to make of it.

                   ˜”*°•.      Unsurprising ,  he  assumed .  Most  people  failed  to  comprehend  conversations  exceeding  the  dull  routine .  However ,  if  this  mission  was  to  be  finished  as  quickly  as  possible ,  the  other  would  have  to  really  outdo  himself .

A  bad  idea  had  it  been  since  the  beginning  -  accepting  to  take  on  missions  for  the  Commission .  The  place  he’d  tried  to  leave  behind ,  destroy .  However,  the  Handler  had  known  exactly  how  to  play  her  cards ,  hadn’t  she  now ?  Exploit  the  despair  of  having  no  way  to  save  his  family  and  turn  it  right  against  him .  You  owe  me .  Were  the  words  that’d  she’d  so  proudly  used .  And  so ,  there  he  was  ;  in  a  place  that  looked  like  it’d  come  directly  out  of  a  book .

❝ Well ,  sometimes  it’s  better  this  way . ❞  Better  than  knowing  too  much .  And  even  though,  he’d  delivered  the  other  nothing  but  lies  - a  story  where  he  got  lost  and  was  trying  to  simply  return  to  his  home  in  the  West  ( well, bringing up timetravelling and assassinations , not how one started conversations) - ,  he  couldn’t  shake  off  the  feeling  there  was  more  to  the  man .  The  man’s  name  one  that’d  been  mentioned   in  the  documents  too  many  times  without  though  explicitly  pointing  out  the  reason  .  ❝ The  important  thing  is  that  I  need  to  go  there .  If  you  could  help ,  it’d  be  appreciated . ❞  For  as  convenient  as  it  would’ve  been  to  space  jump  that  far,  such  convenience  would  be  exceeding  his  skills .

[daily-stars-source]

CRACKSHIP gifs → FIVE HARGREEVES & WEDNESDAY ADDAMS

Is it lost time? That's what I'll never say about you I'll meet you in so many dreams .Though I'll greet the mornings with someone else I'll dream of you, of our days. Somewhere a thread has broken, we are already running on new roads..{Sylwia Grzeszczak lyric - motyle}

[onlyangle1]

Stitching Him Up.

Hiya!! This is my first fic so bare with me- Also it's really short so sorry about that! when i was writing it i was expecting it to be longer than it was- Anyway I don't really know what else to say so...Enjoy!

P.S: Remember you can give requests whenever you want, im sure i will get round to them!

Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are sitting in the academy with a nice book when five walks in obviously hurt, you help him get cleaned up and he confesses to you after thanking you for helping him

Warnings: blood, needles, injury, my writing

You were sitting in the living room of the academy, quietly reading a book when Five stumbled in, clutching his side. “Are you okay?” you asked, looking up at him with a concerned stare, squinting your eyes a little when he waved you off, hobbling over to you.

“I’m fine, what were you reading?” he asked. You knew there was something wrong, but you told yourself to leave it. If Five didn’t want you to know, then you weren’t going to pry, if he needed help he would come to you, you thought.

You looked at him wearily but answered his question none the less. “oh! its just this book ben was talking to me about, he said I would like it and let me borrow it! How nice is that?” you smile, holding out the book to Five.

Five took the book out of your hands, taking a look at both covers and flicking through the first few pages, nodding along to what you were saying. “Hm, that is nice of him.”, he said, thinking to himself and wincing as he sat down on the sofa opposite you clutching his side.

“Okay, are you hurt or something? I can tell there’s something wrong!”

“I’ll live, it’s fine.” he grunted, but you could see the pain etched on his face. You got up off the sofa and moved to his before you gently lifted up his shirt to see what was wrong. A nasty cut ran across his side, and you could tell it was deep. “I need to stitch this up,” you said, looking at it while softly running your fingers across his skin, getting a hiss from Five. “Sorry! Sorry, one sec’ I’ll get the first aid kit.” you said, standing up and walking into the kitchen to get the kit from under the sink.

When you get back to the sitting room, you find five with his head back against the sofa, clearly in pain. You wished he would tell you when he was hurt, but you knew he never would. It would hurt his ego. “you ready? This might hurt a little.” you, told him, with the reply of a nod yes.

You set to work, carefully cleaning and sterilizing the wound before threading a needle. Five hissed in pain as you started to stitch, but he didn’t complain. You worked quickly and efficiently, making sure to close the wound tight. “There,” you said, tying off the last knot. “All done.”

“Thanks,” Five said, breathing a little easier now that the wound was closed. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

You smiled at him, feeling a little warmth in your chest. Despite his gruff exterior, Five had a vulnerable side that only a select few were allowed to see. You were grateful to be one of those people. “Anytime,” you said, packing up the first aid kit. “Just don’t make a habit of getting hurt, okay?”

Five chuckled, wincing a little at the pain. “I’ll try not to,” he said, leaning back on the couch. “But you know how it is.”

You nodded, knowing all too well the dangers of their world. You had stopped the apocalypse three times now, and you were relieved to have a bit of a break for a while. But with each passing day, you were glad to have the Hargreeves by your side. And you were especially grateful for Five. He could be a dick sometimes, but he would always look out for you and his family.

“So, what happened? Not another apocalypse, I hope.” You joked before shaking your head and muttering “sorry, that wasn’t funny.” Five looked over at you as you packed away the first aid equipment. “I ran into a few men from the commission. Guess they had a sort of problem with me. Anyway, one of them had a knife i didn’t know about and cut me. I got them back for it though.” Five stated, sounding pretty proud of himself despite getting hurt in the process.

“Just..be carful, okay? I don’t know what I- we would do if something happened to you” you told him quickly correcting yourself hoping he wasn’t listening and didn’t catch it but oh of course he did, he always listened when you talked, it was like your the only person in the world and he just had to listen to you.

“i will.” he said. He seemed to be thinking of something before he finally spoke up. “I really care about you, you know. More than most people and I know it’s not just because of how much we’ve been through together, though that does help.” Five nodded along with himself almost like he was agreeing to what he was saying.

You look up at him, feeling yourself freeze as his eyes meet yours, feeling your heart start to race. Was he really saying what you think he was saying? What you had been wanting him to say for years now?

He took a deep breath, his hand reaching out to touch yours. “Well, what I’m trying to say is that I love you. That I’ve loved you for a long time, ever since we got partnered up together in the commission, but I was too afraid to tell you. And I don’t want to keep it a secret anymore.”

You didn’t know what to say. You had always suspected that there was something more between you two, but to hear him say it out loud was almost too much to handle. “I love you too, Five,” you said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them.

He smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his face. “Good,” he said, leaning in to kiss you. It was a soft, gentle kiss, full of all the love and tenderness that had been building between you two for so long.

As you broke apart, you knew that this was just the beginning. There would be more missions, more battles to fight, but you were ready for them all as long as you had Five by your side. Together, you were unstoppable. You always had been.

[temp0rtal]

I've finally FINALLY updated Five's gdoc. (it's taken so long ;-;) and I've gotten his biography written - omitting a few of the finer details otherwise it would be at least 10 pages long - but I just wanted to make this post in order to demonstrate that my portrayal of Five primarily takes place post-s3, but not counting s4 as canon. A lot of things happen to him prior to this point and fitting in threads between the madness that is for Five, essentially 2 and a bit weeks, would be exhausting - the poor man would be run ragged. That being said, if the right plot came up for that time period, then I wouldn't say no.

so

REGARDING POST SEASON 3

Season 4 is not regarded as canon. Certain aspects of this will be taken to write with other muses – most notably the Subway System with @/disventura as this has been heavily plotted. I do not ship Lila/Five and will block anyone who tries to initiate that plot point. 

In this new universe, Reginald Hargreeves is not their father but he controls a great deal. Five was able to get a prosthetic arm from the Hargreeves R&R Tech, but, Five being Five, removed almost everything of his fathers design and has been slowly improving the arm over time.

After a few months adjusting to life, Five found his powers returned, though he has no interest in going after Reginald nor does he care enough to involve himself with anything other than just relaxing and rebuilding some sort of life for himself. The life he missed out on for so long. He's decided that starting again is the best, and whilst it is frustrating in some ways, he would rather spend his time having his youth returned to him, than chasing being someone older.

As he is considered underage, and a minor by most states, Five has been enrolled in several schools, but he never attends. He also lives with Diego and Lila, considering nowhere will let him an apartment. Five is adjusting to being a teenager again, though it has been a process. He is still extremely traumatized and the memories of his time in the apocalypse have never disappeared.

[lupiinee]

NAME?: Peter. Pete.

PRONOUNS?: He/They - but literally those are just preferred, i really don't mind what mixture of pronouns you choose.

MOST ACTIVE MUSES?: Spock and Remus. Those are the two floating in my head for a while now. I've got also sideblogs on spock for Jack Russell, Five Hargreeves and the 12th Doctor, plus a smattering of OC's and canons on my star trek multi, but they all take it in turns.

EXPERIENCE/HOW MANY YEARS?: since 2009/2010. I've been here a LONG TIME. since before the first avenger and since before avengers. i started writing as a being human blog and have gone through many characters since then

FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT?: ALL. I'm a sucker for playing house. But there's some good angst shit in here to be had. and smut is just so good to write

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES?: I cannot keep a thread short to save my life. it gets long REAL QUICK over here

PET PEEVES?: people who don't tag. come on dudes. doesnt need to be fancy but at least tag your shit

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE?: undoubtedly, yes. me and remus are very VERY SIMILIAR. whilst i don't have lycanthropy, i do suffer chronic pain/illness, i do use a cane, i am queer and there's a bunch of other similarities. i deny it, i'd rather be like spock tbh

TIME TO WRITE?: honestly im on here a lot to avoid my responsibilities. i have college 3 days out of the week and then work the other 3 days and i get 1 day to myself (if that) so any excuse to be on here i'll take. rn writing is the only thing making me feel something hjkl

tagged by : stolen!

tagging: YALL

[dynastymusesarchive]

under the cut is muses i am anxious to play, but have had no or little interest for threads. if you would like a one sentence starter, please comment on who. i would love you forever!

rand al’thor -wheel of time qui gon jinn-star wars finn-star wars Enid Sinclair-wednesday Sav Bhandari-degrassi Fiona Coyne-degrassi Clare Edwards-degrassi Jake Martin-degrassi Drew Torres-degrassi Terra Harvey-fate the winx saga Bloom Peters-fate the winx saga Magnus Bane-shadowhunters Clary Fray-shadowhunters Alexander Clearmond Diaz-red, white, & royal Henry Stuart Fox -red, white, & royal Five Hargreeves-the umbrella academy Sloane Hargreeves-the umbrella academy Jill Pole-Narnia Eustance Clarence Scrubb-Narnia Esme Frost-Marvel Scott Summers-Marvel Elena Gilbert-TVD Verse Lizzie Saltzman-TVD Verse Dinah Lance-DC Tommy Merlyn-arrowverse/dc Gar Logan-dc Virgil Hawkins-dc Barry Allen-dc tom jones (tom jones 2023) Sebastian de poitiers (reign) Wendy Darling-Peter Pan/Disney Elinor Fairmont-First Kill Juliette Fairmont-First Kill samwise gamgee-lord of the rings