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anapotatowriter · 6 months

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Hi there! I saw your requests were open and I absolutely adore your writing.

I am officially back in my Edmund Pevensie era (sorry Five Hargreeves, LOL). Do you mind writing something based on Save The Last Dance For Me by Michael Bublé?

Save the last dance for me

Edmund Pevensie x Reader

A/N: HI DARLING BESTIE! THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST, I REALLY LOVED DELVING INTO SOME TROPES I COULDN'T FIT IN MY PREVIOUS WORKS! I really loved this song, and gained random inspiration from a Bridgerton clip- Did I get up in the middle of the night, and write this whole thing under 3 hours until 2:34 in the morning? Yes, yes I did. Did I do this when I am meant to be studying for my finals? No comment. I hope you like this story. If you don’t, feel free to message me, and I’ll make whatever changes you would like! Also, bonus points to people who can get the different references I have made in this fic~

Summary: Edmund Pevensie is from Narnia. Y/N L/N is from Terenbithia. They are supposed to be enemies, but are they really?

Contains: Fluff basically, a little, teensy-weensy bit of angst, some political rivalry that I *really* didn't explore, a secret relationship, some use of fan language that I think is inferrable??? and a bit of jealousyyyyy! Also, my writing is trash in this fr fr.

Requested: Yes

Now you can dance every dance with the guy

Who gives you the eye, let him hold you tight

And you can smile every smile for the man

Who held your hand beneath the pale moonlight

“We now announce Queen Y/N L/N, Queen of Terebinthia!”

I stepped out from behind the double doors that announced the entry of each royal guest arriving at Cair Paravel. Light applause rang out as I stepped down the stairs, a smirk gracing my face. Four distinct members in the room didn’t bother hiding the subtle displeasure on their faces—the kings and queens of Narnia, enemies of the Terebinthian courts, and thus my enemies. My dark green dress was sewn just to contrast the yellow, red, purple, and blue of the royal members of Narnia, reflecting the political tensions between the two kingdoms. The black lace fan that hung off my wrist reflected the age-old Narnian diamonds, another symbol to rub salt in the wound. My eyes, however, wandered to the younger king, whose silver crown glinting in the candlelight was rivalled only by the sharp flicker in his caramel-brown eyes.

I stayed as far away from the four monarchs as possible, mingling with the population of royalty surrounding us all, a ruse to put up for the family. “Queen Y/N,” said a voice behind me. I turned to meet the eyes of the prince of Archenland, his blonde hair hiding the gold crown he donned. Prince Orlando’s eyes roved over my appearance, a breathless gasp escaping as he said, “Queen Y/N, I simply must have your first dance.” “It would be an honour, Your Highness,” I responded, curtsying slightly, looking up at him through my eyelashes. I opened the fan in my hand with a light flick, bringing it up to my chest and fluttering it, bringing the prince’s attention to the diamonds that adorned my neck and the lace of the fan. My eyes flickered beyond Prince Orlando’s shoulder, meeting the similarly entranced eyes of King Edmund. A secret smile graced my face as the fan “slipped” out of my hand and onto the floor. The eyes of King Edmund and Prince Orlando followed its path, the King stepping forward only slightly before resuming an indifferent posture. I glanced down at the fallen fan, my lips parting slightly in mock surprise. The prince bent on his knee to pick up the fan, just as Edmund’s jaw clenched subtly as he stared at us. Orlando held up the fan to me, my eyes flitting away coyly before meeting his again.

I held my wrist out to the prince, making him gulp slightly when I slowly removed the lace gloves that adorned my hand. He widened the fan’s strap and fit it around my wrist, his fingers brushing against the recently uncovered skin. But my eyes were focused on Edmund, who watched the fluttering glove as if it had done him a personal disservice. His vision flitted to my wrist, and then to my eyes. He gazed in my direction with extreme focus, making my hand tremble slightly as I replaced the gloves on my hand. Orlando offered his hand to me, which I accepted, and joined the dance floor. Moments later, the brunette king joined the throng of dancers with a partner of his own. I smirked as I curtsied, taking hold of the prince’s hands. The prince, whose blue eyes met mine eagerly, pulled me in closer with his grip on my waist. I gripped his shoulder subtly, before manoeuvring into a spin and out of his arms. The moonlight filtered through the windows of Cair Paravel, casting a light blue hue along with the orange from the candles. Despite the dim lights of the ballroom, I could feel the pair of eyes belonging to Edmund boring into me, making goose bumps rise on every inch of my skin.

Baby, don't you know I love you so

Can't you feel it when we touch

I will never, never let you go

I love you oh, so much

You can dance, go and carry on

I glanced at Edmund for a moment, who was already staring back with an unrivalled intensity. A drop in the music signalled a switch in partners. My hands immediately left those of the prince, seeking their return to the place of comfort. Home, home, home. Warmth, comfort, and callouses which marked my heart, my hips, my body, my love. I twirled over to the man next to me, Edmund immediately taking hold of me as my dress whipped around me. His fingers dipped tantalising low on my waist, just far enough from being deemed scandalous. The warmth of his palm cut straight through the layers of satin, silk and net that adorned my dress as if they didn’t exist. His hand grasped mine firmly, intertwining our fingers as a means of saying, “I will never let you go.” The moonlight littered over his freckled cheeks, the adoration in his eyes making my heart thud pathetically against my chest. The world around me seemed to disappear as I gazed into his eyes when light applause around us broke me out of my reverie. The music had stopped, indicating the end of the dance. The fan that hung off my wrist was clasped in my hand again. I manoeuvred the fan and swiped the open fan along my cheek. He chuckled under his breath, glancing away quickly before looking back and bowing. As his face dipped just near my ear, he whispered, “I love you too, Y/N… I love you oh so much.” I smiled cheekily at Edmund, curtsying in response before walking back to Prince Orlando for another dance without a glance back.

'Til the night is gone

And it's time to go

If he asks if you're all alone

Can he walk you home, you must tell him no

“Are you going to be travelling home alone, Queen Y/N?” asked Orlando, his eyes flickering with concern. “You need not worry yourself, Prince Orlando. I can do just fine myself,” I replied, smiling. “I can drop you home, Queen Y/N if that would be safer or more comfortable for you.” “No, Prince Orlando. I appreciate your offer and kindness, but I will be fine,” I replied, sharper than intended. He nodded his head in understanding, bowing deeply one last time. He took my hand and grazed his lips against my gloved knuckles before walking out of the ballroom. I caught the eye of Edmund, who was conversing with one of the foreign dignitaries. As if sensing my gaze, his eyes shifted to meet mine. I took my fan into my right hand, placing it in front of my face for a few moments. His eyes glinted in recognition as I walked away, an invitation to follow me. I stalked through the halls of Cair Paravel, which I had crossed through multiple times in the cover of darkness and shadows. I finally emerged through the trap door into the Cair Paravel Gardens, the lingering scent of something citrus infiltrating my senses. As I admired the view, the scent of the gardens was drowned by the smell of coffee and old books. Before I could turn around, Edmund wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into the warmth of his chest. A sudden chill raced down my spine as King Edmund's arms enveloped me, the temperature from the cool gardens contrasting against the warmth of his embrace, making me shiver slightly. “Hello Darling,” he whispered, not wanting to disturb the tranquillity of the gardens. Snippets of music still drifted from the ballroom, but the incessant chattering of crowds was silenced. And there we stood, hidden by the hedges and wisteria-festooned walls of the gardens.

'Cause don't forget who's taking you home

And in whose arms you're gonna be

Save the last dance for me

Oh, I know that the music's fine

Like sparklin' wine, go and have your fun

Laugh and sing, but while we're apart

Don't give your heart to anyone

And don't forget who's taking you home

And in whose arms you're gonna be

So darling, save the last dance for me

“So, are we going to do anything, or just stand around? Because I must admit darling, I am getting rather bored,” I murmured. I could feel the way the corners of Edmund’s lips upturned against the joining between my neck and shoulder. “Maybe I should have taken up Prince Orlando’s offer of taking me home,” I said jokingly. Edmund chuckled lightly, before abruptly spinning me around and gripping me so I faced him. “Don’t forget who’s taking you home, darling. Would be a dam shame to miss out on me for some prince of Archenland,” he quipped. “You might have danced with Prince Orlando, but I'm the one whose arms you’re going to be in tonight.” “May I have the honour of your last dance, Queen Y/N?” asked Edmund as a new song began to play in the background. I chewed lightly on my lower lip, feigning contemplation as I said, “Oh I don’t know. I mean, the music’s fine, but I have already had my fun for the day, I think.” I placed the handle of my closed fan against my lips and pretended to think, watching as Edmund’s eyes tracked the shape of my lips. “Ask your question out loud instead of through your fan, and maybe I’ll agree,” responded Edmund, quirking his eyebrow. I looked away from his gaze and murmured a small, “Kiss me… please.” Before I could finish the last word, his lips pressed against mine softly, the tension leaving my shoulders almost immediately. His hands moved to my gloved ones, tugging at the fingers of the glove gently before pulling the gloves off. His hands traced the newly exposed skin, moving up my arms before placing one on my waist and holding the other one. I shivered at the contact with the skin of his palm, the hardened scars from battles finding their home in my hands. He pulled me into a slow dance, slowly, slowly, slowly tugging my heart to his. “Don’t ever give your heart to anyone else,” he said in my ear, a trace of insecurity running through his words. “I will always save my last dance for you, Edmund Pevensie,” I said in reply, holding on to him like it was my last day.

So darling, save the last dance for me

Oh baby, won't you save the last dance for me

Ooh, you make a promise

That you'll save the last dance for me

Save the last dance

The very last dance

For me

“Darling, save the last dance for me?” asked Edmund, holding his grip over my light blue gown that matched his outfit. “You have asked the same thing at every ball the last 5 years, and my answers never change, darling. I promise that I’ll save the last dance for you,” I replied, kissing him softly on the cheek. As he moved away from me to make his entrance into the ballroom and greet the royalty visiting our home, his sleeve caught on the black fan that dangled from my wrist. He lifted his wrist to his eye level, bringing mine up in the process. Instead of separating the fan from the button on his sleeve, he removed the fan from my wrist, leaving it bare. The diamonds on the fan, once a symbol of the enmity between two lands, showed the union between them. He opened the fan and brushed it against his cheek before walking away, a smile on his face as he glanced back one last time. “I love you, too,” I said to no one, the ring on my hand glistening in its position up high. I shook myself out of my reverie as the person at the doors declared, “We now announce Queen Y/N Pevensie, Wife of King Edmund of Narnia, and Queen of Terebinthia!”

#narnia #edmund is hot #edmund x reader #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie #edmund fluff #narnia x reader #x reader

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kaybreezy3000 · 3 months

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Do you think Five had anything with The Handler or women during his time on the commission?

I know that the Five of the comic differs a lot from the Five of Netflix, but still So I love both of them very much (they have their attractiveness). Also a panel in the Dallas comic, Five himself says: "but I was the best, I was subtle and the blood ran between my fingers like the sand of an hourglass. as did the women"

When it comes to my familiarity with the comic book version of Five, I hate to say it, it isn't that great. I have not read them, but I know somethings about them, and I love their much more feral version of Five.

That said, I think to answer your question, I need to break apart the show version verses the comic book version of Five Hargreeves.

Like you, I love the character so much too, and since you asked me my opinion on this, I have to say that prior to reading your quote from the comic, I didn't feel like Five fooled around sexually with The Handler while at The Commission and maybe not with anyone there. I did know that the idea of him and The Handler has been flirted with on the show, only I thought the attraction there was one sided, with The Handler toying with him, but more so to be cruel and demeaning, not to actually get in his cute old man pants. 😨😄

I actually have never written a fanfic that referenced them together sexually. I have mentioned the extreme forms of manipulation that she did to him that were mentally abusive and further served to crush his already tormented soul. I just didn't see the hard evidence on the show for anything with them further than that, but I am 100% not the authority on our favorite guy and I didn't know about that line from the comics, so please take what I say with a grain of salt. I'm not looking to upset anyone with my thoughts on this-they are just thoughts based on how I saw what the show gave us, nothing more.

To me, how Five looks at The Handler on the show was not in a way showing that he was attracted to her like that. I think she's very pretty and she's got confidence and style to the max, but she's so damn conniving and wicked it cancels all that out for me and I am not sure how he could see her otherwise either. The thought of being touched by her in that way, be it in love or merely lust, would probably make Five's skin crawl. He may have been deprived of love and inexperienced and horny as hell at that point in his life, but she'd probably been the last one he'd want to get with.

To me, Five seems to loath The Handler with every fiber of his being, and I don't blame him for it. She may have saved him from the apocalypse, but she also left him there (or the mutual agreement at the Commission was to leave him there-I don't remember that one for sure) until he was so broken and desperate that he'd have done anything to get out of there, and he did. He became a murderer for them. As Five spitefully said to her, (I think in season 2), "You made it to where I don't belong anywhere!" He was not happy about that and that's putting it lightly. She took something away from Five that broke him-maybe even worse than Reginald or his lifetime alone did. 😭 I'd think that kind of manipulation makes it hard to feel any sort of emotion for someone other than hate. He'd have probably rather never known what it was like to be with someone than be with her.

When it comes to Five at the Commission being a ladies' man who had 'women' running through his fingers like sands through an hourglass, I also don't write my stuff using that idea that he's been with anyone during that time at the Commision, but that doesn't mean I am right on that, and it seems the comic book version is totally going that way with him. For the most part, I used only the show version to base my stuff, but it makes total sense that Five would want to explore that sort of thing when he finally had a chance to do it. So, again, yes, I think Five totally could have done that and I am intrigued comic Five is played that way and now I'm looking at the show version in a new light and I may have missed some stuff.

Not that you asked, but the reason that I don't write Five having done that is as I said, I was looking at the show, and it's also pretty much based on ideas I got in my own head a long time ago because that Five is very, very messed up emotionally and he's super untrustworthy and has good reason to be. I always felt it would be near impossible for him to let his guard down and let himself be vulnerable to someone like that, especially at the Commission or with someone who was working there with him since they are an institution that is using him.

There were also things on the show that I noticed, and other people also picked up on and have posted about, that Five can be very jumpy about affection from others, at first when he comes back, I mean. I don't know if I am reading that wrong, but that idea was also another reason I never went with the idea he was with anyone while at The Commission. He was in a very dire situation while there and adding sex or love or whatever into while there could have made things all the harder for him to get back or just in general. He did let Luther carry him home drunk, so there was that, and later, we see him dancing with Lila and even in the new trailer we have him hugging her back, so Five is not opposed to being touched. We writers sometimes take small things about a character like aversion to touch and we run with them, and we aren't always right, but we do it to explore angsty storylines and look at real human problems that real people sometimes face due to trauma. Five stories with him being touch averse I think comes from all of this and it's all good with me.

When I do pair Five with someone, it's either before the Commission (like in my stories of alternate childhood stuff where he doesn't jump as early as he did on the show) or it's with tons of drama along the way that is based on him dealing with all sorts of quirks and fun kinks and crazy stuff that he needs to work out. I love pairing him romantically, but I just never did the take with him going there at the Commission. That said, I could bend my head to the idea that he was a big-time player, strutting around there all cocky after a series of seamlessly pulled off kills, using his scary reputation to impress people at the Commission so he could get laid. It's sort of hilarious to imagine that and also plays well into Five's impressive ego and probably why Gerad Way wrote him that way. That version of Five sounds so wild, and again, I need to read more of it.😄👍

Still, I love the idea of Five being a mega romantic and a little less hard like comic Five is, that being based on what we see of him with his heartbreaking goal of saving his family even if it kills him, and how he is with Dolores on the show, and with that, I like to think he'd be the type that wouldn't be with just anyone just for sex. He seems to have major feelings even if many write him very stoic and the comic book version comes off much more full of himself and borderline narcissistic (not all his fault-he was genetically altered with serial killer DNA in those). But if the comic book says he's a Casanova, then let's just say, it's a strong possibility Five is or was supposed to be played that way and that is huge stuff you just pointed out.

Maybe in a few weeks when the show airs we will get the real answers on this for the shows final take on Five, but something tells me we won't. I have a feeling they aren't going to say much more about Five finding love. I wish they would, because I want him to be happy no matter what that means and romance doesn't even have to have anything to do with it. They don't have much time to complete this story for us, so my bet is we aren't going to have flashbacks of Five's mysterious time at the Commission, or anything else being shown with him building a relationship with anyone in this kind of way. They might want to keep us wondering and I think that's smart writing that will work for everyone who loves him, those who ship him in relationships of the sexual kind, and those who don't.

Lastly.... (for those who want to look at these ideas a little more and maybe read some fanfics that explore them)

People I know have written some pretty compelling takes on this stuff you mentioned with and The Handler and their 'relationship.' And since you opened my eyes to comic book Five and his interests in the ladies, I am seeing more possibilities that he and The Handler's thing could have been a thing-thing. In one of these stories I am thinking of, the author did go with the notion that Five and The Handler were together in this manner, only it's some dark and very potentially triggering stuff, but the main idea in it still stands that when they wrote that, Five was not with her because he wanted to be. Basically, in the fanfic version I am refereeing to, he was very naive thanks to is extreme isolation, and The Handler was using sex to control Five and keep him under her thumb more than he already was. She essentially was trying to break him, and she did, and it was super sad. @Mangoshorthand -you will find the version of Five I am talking about here, and all I can say is, it is explicit stuff and read her warnings first if you are going to read that. It's not an easy read and wasn't meant to be, especially in the one she wrote that goes deep into this idea of them sexually linked. It's called, 'The Moth and the Spider,' and you can find it under her blog on her master list.

Another great fanfic writer @badkitty3000 wrote a version of Five that was sexually active with other women, (not The Handler), during his time at the Commission, and it's not nearly as traumatic stuff going for him as the story I mentioned above. Kitty's entire version on Five uses this idea that once he had the chance to find that kind of thing with a real person, he did only at first, he struggled bigtime with opening himself up in any other real sort of way with these people. It's all written very well and explores what figuring this stuff out was like for Five, being he was mentally not so much in a great place after his time in the apocalypse, he was a temporal assassin, he was a much older man that was still a virgin (at first) and dealing with major issues of all kinds. Her story, 'The Sexual Awakenings of Mr. Number Five Hargreeves,' is sort of the starter story to all her other stories with him, and there are many Five Centric stories under her A03 profile, and all are good stuff if you like to read about an older adult Five and what his life might be like after or before the things happening during the show go down.

So... yeah. Another long answer by me and I hope it gives you an idea of where my head is at with all this. Your question is great, and I could totally get on board with the bloody hands, sands of time, on the hunt for a good time, version of Five. Maybe he did get with the Handler in the comics and that was what he was alluding to there with that remark. Number Five is not against fighting dirty and he for sure had plenty of reason to want to stick it to her-pun intended. 🤣 I love to imagine him all sorts of ways, the more the better and the comics are why we got the show so I will always be grateful for them.

Thank you again for the ask and letting those of us know about that panel from the comic. It's very telling.

So.....

What do you think based on all this? I am genuinely curious and it's rare that anyone says much to these posts, so please do chat it up in the comments below if you feel comfortable sharing. ❤️

#number five #five hargreeves #number 5 #tua #number five hargreeves #anon ask #the umbrella academy #kaybreezy-on-a03 #the handler #tua comics #tua netflix #comic book Number Five vs. Netflix Five

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ar3-y0u-l0st · 22 days

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🕸🕯MASTERLIST🕯🕸

Requests: Open / Closed

𝗔𝗻𝘆 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗰 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 (𝘃𝗶𝗮 𝗳𝗶𝗰𝘀) 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗣𝗲𝗱𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮, 𝗥𝗮𝗽𝗲, 𝗡𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮, 𝗖𝗼𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮, 𝗘𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗼𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮 𝗲𝘁𝗰: 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝘂𝗽

"𝙸𝚏 𝙸 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝, 𝙸 𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔:"

Update/s: The Bowers Gang added

♡♤|~•○Who I write for○•~|♤♡

》 🄻🄾🅁🄳🅂 🄾🄵 🄲🄷🄰🄾🅂

- Dead

- Euronymous

- Necrobutcher

- Hellhammer

- Bård Faust

- Occultus

- Metalion

- Ann-Marit

》 🄷🄾🅁🅁🄾🅁/🅂🄻🄰🅂🄷🄴🅁🅂

- Michael Myers

- Jason Voorhees

- Freddy Krueger

- Leatherface

- Pinhead

- Candyman

- Hannibal Lecter

- Carrie White

- Brahms Heelshire

- Bo Sinclair

- Vincent Sinclair

- Lester Sinclair

》 🅃🄷🄴 🄱🄾🅆🄴🅁🅂 🄶🄰🄽🄶

- Henry Bowers

- Patrick Hockstetter

- Victor Criss

- Belch Huggins

》 🅂🄲🅁🄴🄰🄼 🄺🄸🄻🄻🄴🅁🅂

- Billy Loomis

- Stu Matcher

- Mickey Altieri

- Debbie Salt**

- Roman Bridger

- Charlie Walker

- Jill Roberts

- Richie Kirsch

- Amber Freeman

- Detective Bailey

- Quinn Bailey

- Ethan Landry

》 🄲🅁🄴🄴🄿🅈🄿🄰🅂🅃🄰

- Jeff The Killer

- Jane Everlasting

- Nina The Killer

- BEN_Drowned

- Eyeless Jack

- Bloody Painter

- Clockwork

- Ticci Toby

》 🅂🄻🄴🄽🄳🄴🅁🅅🄴🅁🅂🄴

- The Operator/Slenderman (Creepypasta)

- Evan/Habit (EverymanHYBRID)

- Alex Kralie

- Jay Merrick

- Masky Timothy Wright

- Hoodie Brian Thomas

》 🅃🄷🄴 🄱🄻🄰🄲🄺 🄿🄷🄾🄽🄴

- Albert Shaw

- Finney Blake

- Robin Arellano

- Vance Hopper

- Bruce Yamada

- Billy Showalter

- Griffin Stagg*

- Gwendolyn Blake*

》 🄶🅁🄸🅂🄷🄰🅅🄴🅁🅂🄴

- Alexander Morozova

- Alina Starkov

- Malyen Oretsev

- Kaz Brekker

- Inej Ghafa

- Jesper Fahey

- Wylan Van Eck

- Nina Zenik

- Matthias Helvar

- Zoya Nazyalensky

- Nikolai Lantsov

- Tolya Yul-Bataar

- Tamar Kir-Bataar

》 🄻🄾🅁🄳 🄾🄵 🅃🄷🄴 🅁🄸🄽🄶🅂

- Bilbo Baggins

- Frodo Baggins

- Samwise Gamgee

- Meriadoc (Merry) Brandybuck

- Peregrine (Pippin) Took

- Aragorn (Son of Arathorn)

- Boromir (Son of Denethor II)

- Faramir (Son of Denethor II)

- Thorin Oakenshield

- Fili (Of Thorin's company)

- Kili (Of Thorin's company)

- Gimli (Son of Gloin)

- Thranduil (King of Mirkwood)

- Legolas Greenleaf (Son of Thranduil)

- Tauriel (Head of Mirkwood Elven-Guards)

- Lord Elrond (Lord of Rivendell)

》 🅃🄷🄴 🅄🄼🄱🅁🄴🄻🄻🄰 🄰🄲🄰🄳🄴🄼🅈

- Luther Hargreeves

- Diego Hargreeves

- Allison Hargreeves

- Klaus Hargreeves

- Five Hargreeves

- Ben Hargreeves

- Vanya/Viktor Hargreeves

》 🄼🄸🅂🅂 🄿🄴🅁🄴🄶🅁🄸🄽🄴'🅂 🄷🄾🄼🄴 🄵🄾🅁 🄿🄴🄲🅄🄻🄸🄰🅁 🄲🄷🄸🄻🄳🅁🄴🄽

- Alma Peregrine

- Jacob Portman

- Emma Bloom

- Enoch O'Connor

- Millard Nullings

- Fiona Fraunfeld

- Hugh Apiston

- Horace Somnusson

- Victor Bruntley

- Bronwyn Bruntley

- Olive Elephanta*

- Claire Densmore*

》 🄾🅃🄷🄴🅁

- Cronos (Venom)

- Quorthon (Bathory)

(*) Will not, under any circumstances, write smut

(**) If you're into them then I won't deprive you ig

#Lords of Chaos #Horror/Slashers #Scream Killers #Creepypasta #Slenderverse #The Black Phone #Grishaverse #Lord of the Rings #The Umbrella Academy #Miss Peregrine's home for peculiar children #Other #x reader #requests #smut #fluff #angst #fanfiction #Masterlist

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mangoshorthand · 2 years

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No Hard Feelings- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch7

Note: this chapter was added as part of a major edit/extension of this fic which is why it's being posted now and out of order. SUMMARY: You're Five's latest assassination target, but things don't go to plan and now he wants you as his fuckbuddy. Funny how what we want and what we need are rarely in line. (Aged up Five because things get smutty...obviously.) Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five- Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

Having stormed out of your apartment, Five's getting fifteen flavors of fucked up.

GIF by thisgameissonintendo

Chapter Seven: Scars

Now he knows why Lila’s been acting like more of a prick than usual lately. Since not murdering her is essential to maintaining his position as Santi's favorite uncle, he decides against doing his drinking at home. Instead, he sucks his final lime with his elbows on the bar before dropping the shot glass on the tray beside the other five. Tequila is an efficient delivery system, and the ritual of salt, tequila and then lime always appeals to him.

“Jesus, son. Another bad day?”

“What?” he snaps, head whipping in the direction of the voice like a bated dog on the brink of biting.

“Woah,” says the old man, one hand held up in surrender, “just saying hi. We talked in here a few weeks ago, remember? You bought me a drink. Just repaying the favor.”

As Five looks at him from under lowered brows, the guy places another tequila slammer in front of him.

“Oh,” Five says, recognizing him and nodding, “Thanks, but I’m not in the mood to socialize.”

The guy, clearly drunker than Five is, (and nowhere near as drunk as Five intends to get), seems to brush off the rebuff.

“Name’s Geoff. What’s eatin you…?” the question tapers off expectantly.

“Five”, he supplies, reluctantly.

“Like th-”

“Like the number, yes,” Five snaps, irritated by the predictability.

Geoff, undeterred by his obviously forbidding attitude, sits down next to him.

“Sure. Five. Is it still chick stuff and job stuff?”

Five chuckles darkly. Drunk as it was like six shots from a revolver, the tequila’s permeating his brain extremely quickly. He finds that Geoff isn’t as annoying as he might have initially expected.

“Just chick stuff now.”

Geoff makes a sympathetic noise as if he knows the situation of old.

“You in a fight with your girl?”

“No,” he says, “she’s not my girl. That’s kinda the point.”

Geoff looks his confusion and Five explains.

“I’m seeing her casually but she’s getting clingy.”

“Treating her mean to keep her keen, huh?”

“No.” Five said, raising his new glass briefly to Geoff before downing the shot. When he surfaces, wincing slightly, he says:

“She knows the deal. It’s casual or nothing, but she’s sticking her goddamn nose in my past.”

He’s becoming effusive, the liquid sounds in his words starting to drag and hand gestures becoming more pronounced than usual.

“What gives her the right to…to psychoanalyze me? To pathologize the only good thing I had- she has no idea what I’ve been through.”

“Sounds tough, son,” Geoff says, only understanding part of this, “she sounds like my ex-wife. Everything’s always ‘oh, you have a transactional understanding of relationships’, ‘you aren’t attuned to my emotional needs’ or some dumb shit like that.”

“Exactly!” Five says, pointing at Geoff, “she doesn’t know my goddamn shitass life. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t understand. All we had was each other for over forty years. You don’t just forget that.”

“Exactly!” Geoff repeats, not really listening, “my ex could never understand that I’m not a mind-reader.”

The two men talk over each other:

“-You don’t just throw it away because it wasn’t normal or whatever.” Five says, tipping the shot glass again in the hope of a final drop of tequila. “She was the fuckin’ love of my life. She saved me. She was there when nobody else was and I don’t regret a single minute of it. So fuck her.”

“...just expected me to magically know when the housework needed doing. Here’s the thing, Karen: I don’t know if you don’t tell me.”

“-she doesn’t get to judge us. She doesn’t get to call her a fuckdoll just because she wants me to be her emotional support animal. Dolores was twice the woman she is-”

“...and maybe,” Geoff rants, “if she’d put out now and again I might not have got all that credit-card debt spending money on cam girls.”

“Looking up at me with those goddamn puppy-dog eyes and she thinks she can…she thinks she can make that all go away? Like it never mattered?”

They both stop talking at the same time, both of them having caught up with some of the contents of what the other said. There’s a brief moment in which they look at each other, confused.

“Well…thanks for the shot,” Five said, not wanting to hear any more about Geoff’s cam-girl debt.

“No problem.” says Geoff, clearly deciding that the mental wherewithal to unpack how such a young man could have had a 40 year relationship with a sex doll is beyond him, “bye then.”

He decamps quickly, not looking back.

After the brief interruption, Five turns his attention back to the task at hand: getting fifteen flavors of fucked up.

“Hey- you,” he says to the bartender, “will you do me a double tequila and ginger ale?”

The bartender looks over at Five and the several empty shot glasses in front of him. “I think you’ve had enough. Your ID says you’re over twenty-one, and that’s fine, but I’m not serving you any more.You’re gonna end up having your stomach pumped at this rate.” Five tries to summon the wit needed to persuade the guy, but finds it’s missing after the sudden influx of alcohol to his brain. “Ah…well fuck you.”

He blinks with surprising accuracy given the booze and emerges, swaying, behind the bartender. He grabs an opened bottle of scotch and gives him the finger before disappearing again.

Out on the street, he shivers in the sudden blast of chilly December air. Drinking out in the open isn’t exactly a problem for him: it’s where he’s done most of the drinking in his life. In the apocalypse, drinking alcohol was a rare godsend. It represented brief moments of respite: a break from obsessive reading, calculation and fight for survival. Alcohol even gave him sweet, dreamless sleep: something he learned to value above almost anything else.

And throughout it all, she’d been there. His angel, his saving grace: Dolores. She’d been there when he was thirty and sure he was going to die of an infection, she’d been there when he was forty-two and had the most severe of his nervous breakdowns. She’d been there through the good and the bad, and she’d borne it all with her Mona Lisa smile.

He takes off his tie and undoes a couple of shirt buttons as he walks, not knowing where he’s walking to. He’d clung to her; a lifebuoy in stormy oceans In return, she’d kept him afloat. Their love was a deep-rooted thing and, in itself, terrifying. In his fractured, beleaguered brain, she spread and clung, filling the gulfs, digging into the sinew and creating new, if diseased, pathways. His love for her was so essential to his sanity, so entwined in the basest part of his brain, that there was a time he thought she could never be extracted, even if he wanted her to.

At random, he turned down a sidestreet and then down the sort of alleyway he envisioned Klaus inhabiting during the worst of his addiction With numb hands, he twisted the lid off the whisky and took a long swing, smacking his lips appreciatively.

He left her behind when he first got back because he felt himself come full circle: once again, he was a young boy in a strange world. He felt their lifetime together could end poetically...and she had always appreciated poetry. Leaving her behind in the department store had attractive symmetry: her back with her friends and him back with his family…but he’d anticipated visits. He hadn’t imagined skipping between timelines, encountering more apocalypses and ending up somewhere similar but entirely different, where that department store didn’t even exist.

He lowers the whisky bottle and slides down the wall, back leaned up against it and legs splayed in front of him.

Dolores didn’t even speak in his head anymore.

Before, when he was apart from her, he had a direct line to her consciousness. The part of his mind reserved for her could communicate easily with the rest of him. When they were together, he liked to talk to her out loud, but he didn’t really need to: they could have entire conversations without either of them needing to speak a word. She simply wasn’t there now: at some point in the last six years of contact with other people, she’d faded into nothing.

He raises the bottle to his lips, inhales the smoky, molasses smell and relishes in the precious oblivion it promises.

An improvised fuckdoll. A fuckdoll, you called her?

His teeth work furiously at his lower lip.

“Fucking bitch,” he murmurs, inbetween deep gulps of whisky.

“Please! S’still Thursday.”

You awake suddenly, eyes wide. It’s him. He’s outside in the hall, knocking loudly and insistently.

“Please….please,” he begs, “c’mon…it’s Thursday for like ten more minutes.”

Cautiously, you get to your feet, grabbing your robe from the back of your bedroom door, wrapping it tightly around yourself and creeping out into the hall. You can hear him moving around in the hall: his heavy movement sliding against your door.

“Please. I’m sorry. Pleeeaase.”

He doesn’t sound like himself.

Briefly, you consider just ignoring him. You could pretend you never heard him and wait for him to leave. You waver on the cusp of indecision.

Voice shaking, you call out, “Go away, Five.”

“Please…I won’t blink in but please… oh shit, I couldn’t blink in. But please, talk to m-” he cuts himself off with a dry heave.

Maybe it’s his increasing volume, maybe it’s the thought of what your neighbors will think, after this racket at ten to twelve, only for the whole hallway to smell of puke in the morning. Whatever it is, you open the door.

He all but falls through it, catching his balance at the last minute and stepping slightly back into the hallway, waiting to be formally admitted.

“m’sorry”

He looks entirely and absolutely awful.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” you hiss, sticking your head out and taking a furtive look down the hall.

He sways, following your gaze as if expecting to see onlookers gathered. If his hair was mussed before, now it’s a disaster; some sticks up at odd angles and yet more is plastered to his face. His tie, waistcoat and left shoe are gone. His shirt is untucked and unbuttoned to just above his nipples. His face, though still handsome, looks slack, his eyes unfocused. He holds a bottle of scotch by the neck with less than a finger’s width left in the bottom.

“Shit.” you mutter, under your breath.

He smells so strongly of the whisky that it hangs in a miasma around him.

“I need to pee,” he says, like a kid in school. You regard him for just one more moment before standing aside with an angry exhale, now just happy to get him off your doorstep. Better he be in here embarrassing himself than being out there embarrassing you.

“Thank you,” he says. He stops a second, facing you in the doorway. His eyes are bloodshot:

“Your eyes are a lot like hers, you know.”

You’re not sure what to do with this information.

“How much have you had to drink?” you ask, worried, as he crosses the threshold, “have you drunk that whole bottle?”

“Nah. It was only…only half…maybe three quarters full. I only had that and some tequila.”

His words blur together.

“How much tequila?”

He steps past you. At his first attempt he walks into the bathroom door frame, making it through on the rebound. You hear him urinate, muttering incoherently under his breath.

“How much tequila have you had?” you ask, raising your voice to follow him through the bathroom door.

“Only two shots…or maybe like, six?”

“In…” you check the time incredulously, “under two hours?”

“M’fine.” he says, sounding more his age than usual: every inch the gruff old man.

Rolling your eyes, you go as if to wait for him on the couch, but then you hear a crash, a short yell and more retching.

“Five?”

Yet more retching is the only response.

“Okay, I’m coming in.”

You push the door, still ajar, and find him kneeling with his head in the toilet bowl with vomit splattered on the cistern and toilet seat. He can barely draw breath in between bouts of vomiting. His whole body heaves with the force of the mostly-liquid mush surging out of him.

You hover, unsure what to do. Him vomiting is probably good, right? Listening to his pained groans is difficult. As much as he terrified you tonight, hearing him in real discomfort tugs at you. Your hand hovers for a moment as you consider laying it comfortingly between his shoulder blades, but something stops you.

When, at last, he subsides into watery gasps, you lean and flush the toilet.

“God…I’m so sorry.”

He falls back onto his heels. One hand still holds the bottle, standing upright on your bathroom floor. He looks up at you, chin caked in puke. The mixed smells of scotch, piss and bile are disgusting. You shake your head.

“Take off your clothes.”

He giggles drunkenly.

“This is hardly the time!”

“Shut up and get in the shower.”

He laughs again and stands up, swaying. You catch his bicep and steady him.

“Whoops” he says, steadying himself with difficulty, “thank you m’dear.”

He’s being ironic, but the use of this endearment makes you frown.

He manages his shirt and shoe alone, but needs to put a hand on your shoulder for balance to remove his trousers and underwear.

You turn on the shower for him and help him take the wobbly step over the side of your bathtub.

“Shampoo is next to you. Make sure you wash everything. You stink.”

“Yessirrr,” he slurs.

You draw the curtain and kick his clothes to one side. With a sigh, you turn to the cupboard beneath the sink and dig out your cleaning stuff: the heavy-duty antibacterial variety. You clean the floor and the toilet, trying not to puke yourself at the smell. As you work, you can hear Five stumbling in the shower.

What the fuck are you doing here? Here you are, cleaning the vomit of a man who screamed in your face today, someone who you had not-unreasonable worries could murder you if he chose. A man who trashed your apartment, who treated you like shit, who never even held you after he fucked and degraded you.

A small clatter and a whisper.

“Shit.”

He’s dropped the shampoo. Not wanting him to attempt to bend over, make his head spin and vomit again, you remove one of your latex gloves and lean over the bath to pass it to him.

“Th-nks.” he slurs, face and hair covered in suds.

He tries to take it off you, but his reactions are too shoddy, especially with the addition of soap on his hands, and he drops it again with an identical clatter.

“Shit,” he says, again, as if faced with an impenetrable problem.

“Just leave it.” you say, firmly, “you got plenty on you.”

“Yeah, okay,” he replies, sounding thankful that this insurmountable issue has been solved for him.

You finish up your cleaning and close the toilet lid, using it as a seat whilst you wait for him to finish in the shower. Once or twice, you’re sure you catch him sing-humming a couple of bars of Cher’s If I Could Turn Back Time. You certainly hadn't imagined any of this knelt on the floor with his gun to your head.

“You nearly there?” you ask, searching for a spare toothbrush.

“Yup.”

A few seconds later, the water shuts off and he opens the shower curtain. As he does so, he gives a small hand gesture as if to say ‘ta-da’. You can’t help but laugh at this with him standing there, looking so pathetic..

After getting him dried, his teeth cleaned and his underwear back on, you shepherd him into the living space and onto the couch. The water seems to have sobered him up slightly.

“I don’t deserve you.”

He tries to take your hand, but you avoid his touch, instead throwing the blanket over him.

“No, you don’t.”

He lies down. You put a full glass of water on the coffee table and a basin on the floor near his head, just in case. He looks up at you.

“She did…challenge me,” his eyes appeal, begging you to understand, “i-in the ways I could imagine.”

He takes a few sob-like breaths before continuing

“She kept me sane…more or less.”

You sit cross-legged in front of the couch.

“I know- I know how it sounds. But she was real. She made me...laugh. Y'know, take myself a little less seriously? She didn’t always agree with everything I said. She wasn’t some…Stepford wife.”

He turns his face into the couch cushion, his voice muffled now.

“She’d kill me if she knew what I did today.”

You wait. He’s not done and you can sense it.

“But the love was- is - real. The grief is real. I know what a shrink would say. I know that I projected my conscience onto an…an object. But I love her. I love her and I miss her every day. I felt like I could fuck you and not betray what we had, but I couldn’t hold another woman like I held her.”

You can’t help now but pity him. Your anger and resentment ebb away as you watch him, hiding his face in your couch. You know how much this cost him to say. For once he looks like the lost, lonely boy of so long ago.

“She sounds very special.”

“She was”

“And,” you hesitate, “I’m no shrink, but if she was ‘just’ part of you, then…isn’t that good?”

He can’t unpack this. Maybe it’s the drink, maybe not. You try to explain.

“She sounds sweet and loving and she stopped you going mad. And that…that’s all inside you . You and she did that together. You can’t lose her if she never fully left. It means you have all that love to share. The love you have for her and the love she had for you. If she was loving, then so are you.”

“You're getting a little ‘kumbaya’, don’t you think?” Then, as his characteristic cynicism fades, “Thanks.”

You stand up.

“I have work tomorrow. Sleep on your side just in case you puke again. I’d rather avoid having someone who looks like a teenager choking to death on my couch.”

“ ‘kay,” he mumbles, eyes already closing as he shifts, “she always said I drink too much.”

“She was right.”

Friday morning. You intend to let him sleep, but when you enter the living room he’s not there. The blanket is folded neatly on the couch, the bowl and water glass clean and drying on your draining board.

He’s cleaned up the glass from the vase and your destroyed TV is gone. In its place is a note:

New TV arrives tomorrow. Sorry again.

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03. Here is a link to the whole series

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rrcenic · 1 year

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HI NIC I'M GOING TO GO WILD WITH THE QUESTIONS so feel free to skip this in case it's overwhelming or anything! favorite books? favorite music genre, song, and artists? favorite season and month? do you prefer cats or dogs (or neither, or both!) what are your hobbies? what's your favorite show? what is your least favorite show because it didn't meet your expectations? who is your favorite character in every fandom you're in? what headcanons do you have for your favorite characters? CAN I HEAR MORE ABOUT YOUR LOTF OC IF YOU HAVE MORE CONTENT OF HIM? (sorry i just adore him!)

KUNI ILY THANK YOU SO MUCH

favorite books: lord of the flies, les mis, good omens, enders game, and the house on the cerulean sea

favorite music genre: i like indie soft punk, anarchist early 2000s rock, and musical theatre!!

favorite artists: i adore green day, death cab for cutie, queen, aaron tveit, ben platt, mccafferty, marina, lincoln, cavetown, ricky montgomery, and penelope scott!

favorite songs: good old fashioned lover boy, riptide, trees, be nice to me, lotta true crime, american idiot, basket case, my heart is buried in venice, line without a hook, boys will be bugs, paul, twin size mattress, drink with me, stars, are you satisfied, i will follow you into the dark, the village, and so many more!!!

favorite season: late fall/early winter

cats or dogs: dogs i guess!! i love both but i’ve always been more of a dog guy

hobbies: art!! drawing, painting, sculpting, writing, singing, acting, etc

favorite show: GOOD OMENS!!! i also enjoy our flag means death, the umbrella academy, and the simpsons

least favorite show: not a tv show, but south pacific (the movie/musical). the ending is so wild and sudden and poorly done!

favorite characters for each fandom: aziraphale (good omens), simon (lord of the flies), grantaire (les mis), alai (enders game), lucius (ofmd), five hargreeves (umbrella academy)

character headcanons:

lotf:

simon survived his wounds on the island, and was secretly cared for by roger (not really “cared” for, just “kept alive”). however, he is left partially paralyzed in one leg and has chronic pain because of it. when they return to civilization, he uses a mobility aid

the choir doubles as their schools honorary gsa

jack is openly trans and jokingly blames transphobia whenever he doesn’t get his way. this infuriates piggy

simons guilty pleasure is fast food. he has strong opinions about what makes a good french fry

maurice makes british jokes and sam has to gently remind him that they are all in fact british

good omens:

crowley has trouble seeing because of his snake eyes. he misses the stars dearly. once, aziraphale brought him to an observatory on the top of a mountain and crowley cried because the stars were just bright enough for him to see

crowley also gets excited whenever humans discover new telescopes or ways to take pictures of other galaxies because it means people are getting closer to seeing more of his creations

aziraphale invented macadamia nuts (reasons: they’re buttery and soft and light and are really nice to bite and i like them)

les mis:

grantaire makes music. 3 am guitar recordings and random voice memos of lyric ideas. most are about enjolras

as a smart person and a victim of police brutality, valjean is a firm acab believer. he likes giving large anonymous locations to the les amis

marius is the token straight friend, even though he himself is a trans man. there’s such a lack of cishet folks in their friend group that the token straight is literally queer

enjolras is terribly allergic to cats but pets grantaires pet cat anyway. he suffers constantly

other hcs about my lotf oc: he likes swimming but hates the feeling of dried salt water on his body, he likes to paint his nails, he chews his hair and nails when he’s nervous (someone needs to introduce this boy to oral stim toys), and his favorite color is baby blue!

again, thank you so much for the asks!!! <333

#nic answers #kunfire #lord #good omens #les mis

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fowlblue · 1 year

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4, 7, 15

4. What was that last straw that made you block that annoying person?

I block frequently and often for a lot of reasons, but one time I admittedly got very annoyed by someone RB’ing a post of mine complaining about the OG Graphic Novel’s Spiro with the comment, and I quote- “He’s on a liquid diet, he’s not going to look like the DILF you draw him as”.

Which like… wtf, I’ll draw him as a ‘dilf’ (which was never the intent) if I well please, and that’s without bringing the ableism into it.

7. What character did you begin to hate not because of canon but because how how the fandom acts about them?

Hmm… can’t really say anyone? Not in AF, anyways, usually if I don’t like a character it’s because of their canon actions/I just don’t vibe with them.

The RWBY fandom on the other hand… yeah I really dislike all the main protags now. God, the RWBY fandom is awful.

15. That one thing you see in fanart all the time.

… I’m really trying here, usually I don’t mind much of anything in fanart besides like… whitewashing Holly or something, but that should be self-explanatory.

I do find it odd when people draw Artemis from like, the first few books and they make him look like a mini adult? Like, I know he’s described as vampiric and all but he’s not going to have a man’s jawline/razor-sharp cheekbones as a 12-year-old child. Make him look like a kid! But that could also be artstyle, granted, so take that with a grain of salt.

Oh! And drawing Artemis with like… blood on him. Canon Artemis. He’s not some kind of killer if you’re looking for that go watch Five Hargreeves or Loki or something.

#asks #artemis fowl #disclaimer: this isn’t directed at anyone lol

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toxicshipsincorporated · 2 years

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oh man, how about 1, 9, and 19 for that ask meme. gimme the salt

Imma do TUA because I think that's my most recent & prominent fandom and that's where we met ahaha.

What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?*

mmm...definitely Dolores/Five. And I'll say this, to each their own. Ship and let ship from the womb to the tomb ya feel? But...I just don't get it as like a ship to be invested in, in terms of it being two characters. At the end of the day, Dolores is just a delusion brought about by immense stress and trauma and so it's always just....Five. You can have him talk to her, have her talk back to him, you could even have him have sex with her but...it will always just be....Five (imo). And that may work for some ppl. I can see it really really working for big Five stans but for me, ships are about dynamics. I've never been all that interested in just one character but rather what happens when you add a+b. So I just don't get that particular ship.

Most disliked character(s)? Why?

I didn't like Lila. But to be fair, I didn't like any character introduced after season 1....or even characters that were intro'd in s1 and continued to s2. And that's because I feel like s2 was an effort in....completely flattening all the characters. All the hard edges and interesting bits (the nasty, dark, and unlikable parts) of characters got shaved away and it was treated like.....development? Nevermind that I think it sucks that for characters to be "good" characters (from a technical standpoint) or to develop they have be....less complicated or less angry, less mean or broken. It's was like a big PR campaign where the writers were like "nvm!!! childhood trauma can't make you into deeply flawed and difficult and broken adult!! it actually just makes you goofy and quirky!! haha, have a fart joke."

And after that rant, gonna bring it back around, Lila was...like emblematic of what the showrunner/writers THOUGHT they should have done for the Hargreeves in s1. She just makes no sense to me as a character. Her actions, her decisions, etc. for me lack any strong grounding in....human emotion. There's no strong motivation that acts as a throughline for her narrative. She is inconsistent. She seems to only act and react as the the narrative needs her to. She is the illusion of depth.

For me, I think the first season was...imperfect but interesting. And the season that stayed true to the emotional core of the original comics. In the comics, the trauma, pain and abuse that characters experienced never made them BETTER, never made them badass or cool or edgy. It made them brittle. It made them mean and bitter and nasty. It kept them from establishing and maintaining strong relationships. It kept them from being able to love people in ways that didn't push that loved one away. BUT!!! Despite all that, despite the Hagreeves' trauma ultimately making them into deeply flawed and at times impossible to like or root for...it treated their story as still worth telling. Yes trauma and pain is ugly. Yes, it is uncomfortable and difficult and it does not feel triumphant or good. BUT IT IS STILL WORTH EXISTING. And I just felt like...that was a narrative that was so so important to me. It isn't just the good survivors, the pretty ones, the nice and sweet ones that deserve to have their story told. Even the people who LOST to their pain deserve their moment in the sun.

But...the showrunners and writers (and much of the viewers it seems) of s2 did not feel the same way. It was....discouraging and Lila...is really emblematic of all that for me.

I also don't care that much for Luther, especially in seasons 2 and on. At least in S1, he...made sense. Did I like his decisions? No but at least I understood him to be someone who was capable of...thought? After s1, I think the writers thought the only way to make him likeable was to make him as dumb as rocks.

What is the one thing you hate most about your fandom?

I guess...the thing I hated most was how mean so many people were. And I won't lie and say I was always an angel, I definitely had my moments (or fifty...) but...I think that was also the environment that was cultivated in the TUA fandom. From the drop, people seemed so intent on harm, anger, and viciousness. And maybe that has to do with how...visceral some parts of the first season was and how a lot of younger people who maybe shouldn't have been watching got into it. There was so much lashing out and attacking, people called each other horrible things, made horrific accusations. And it all came down to (imo) wanting to hurt someone else, wanting to inflict pain on others. For what reason??? I'm sure there are many.

Also ppl were so weird about sex a lot of the times? And kinks and dark fan stuff? Like...the original shit was dark as hell and even tho the show was quite a few shades lighter, the amount of....hypocrisy I saw in that fandom was.....stomach turning.

#tua #tua salt #long post

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fiveapocalypse · 2 years

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genderfluid five supremacy tho- the quinn posts were amazing can i have more

Sure :D

-Her full name is Maeve Quinn Hargreeves

-She bought a pet hamster and named him chunky. Don’t ask why she did that. She was feeling sad and lonely.

-wears atrocious outfits but still manages to look cool

-enjoys eating peanut butter straight out of the jar

-likes trying different hairstyles.

-loves fashion shows. as in LOVES them

-do not leave her alone with coffee. She will drink it all

-Quinn hates spiders. She’s always hated em but like just thought you should know

-Don’t call her Maeve unless you wanna die

-she can run in heels and laughs maniacally while Klaus trips on their face

-she likes sparkly nail polish and makeup and clothes

-they work at a McDonald’s

-pronouns are she/they/it.

-will CRY or PUNCH YOU if you use ANY masculine terms with her.

-she likes salt. Maybe a little too much. Definitely too much

#the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreeves centric

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 2 years

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Omg I hope you feel better! If it’s possible, can you share what docs you are currently working on and like, the progress of them? It’s totally co if you can’t though! Hope you have a good day/night!

Thank you so much.

I can share what I'm working on, yeah. The progress might be tricky because I try to outline, but I usually go by feel so please take this with a grain of salt.

All of these are requests.

Jason Todd x female!reader where Jason falls for somebody after thinking he would never find romantic love. This one is almost 70% done.

older!Damian Wayne x female!Indigo lantern!reader. This one is the trickiest — it's technically halfway done, but I'm not sure about the opening scene yet so let's say 30% but fully outlined.

part two of Adore, my roommate!Lip Gallagher cheating kinkvember fic. 40-ish% done.

enemies to lovers with Five Hargreeves. Fully outlined and I already wrote the opening.

I obviously have more ideas written down and requests I plan to fill, but don't wanna think about them right now because I'll never finish what I should be focusing on if I do.

#ywnmtfa responds #anonymous

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egret-orchids · 1 month

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MY DAD THOUGHT THE NUMBER 5 WAS AN S (for salt) WHILE I WAS ON HOLIDAY.

apparently five hargreeves is a salt shaker now idk I haven’t watched umbrella academy

yeah. sounds about right/silly

#egret.txt

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thehargreevesfam · 2 years

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Okay so I watched some clips from a comic con Robert Sheehan was at a few days ago, and he said some interesting things!

He said season 3 is really dark, and probably the darkest season they’ve done so far. It has a lot of loss, anguish and pain

Robert also said he spends time with Five! And has some good bits with Reginald…😬

I’ll link the videos below if you want to watch the full thing!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g9lQ6ZwNW-g

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O62bC_epM_s

#FIVE AND KLAUS DUO CONFIRMED LETS GOOOOO #also unsettled about whatsver he’s doing with Reginald but okay #the umbrella academy #tua s3 spoilers #tua s3 #klaus hargreeves #robert sheehan #tua cast #I’m taking what he said about s3 being dark with a grain of salt though

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tinned-beef · 3 years

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it’s the boy

(click for better resolution😩)

#okay so #i know i posted the wip in december #and i know its now.. march #my bad guys #shoutout to that one person that recently reblogged the wip #my art style also changed a lot since i started making this #hmmm i might post more art soon #take that with a grain of salt #tw gun #art #number five #tua #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #my doodles

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duckgens · 2 years

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part 2/2 of all the drawings I did for my dorm😎 pls b nice

#my art #twenty one pilots #tyler joseph #josh dun #mike teavee #mike teevee #catcf #charlie and the chocolate factory #the umbrella academy #tua #klaus hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #five hargreeves #oleg salt #veruca salt #violet beauregarde #charlie bucket #augustus gloop

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mangoshorthand · 1 year

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Flesh and Blood- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch9 (Hard Feelings Part 3)

SUMMARY: As Christmas approaches, everything between you and Five is perfect...until a destructive temporal anomaly gets in the way. Five is convinced another permutation of himself is to blame. Nothing's simple when you're in a relationship Five Hargreeves: could your loyalties be tested in a way unique to him? Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve - Chapter Thirteen

Yes, it's THAT chapter. The Fives have to learn to share nicely.

4.4k words of absolute filth ahead. Proceed at your own risk

Chapter Nine: Sharing Nicely

The silence is broken by the younger Five.

“I need to piss.”

He backs up, not taking his eyes off the other him. When he gets to the kitchen sink, he starts to unzip.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you ask, scandalized.

Five takes a mistrustful look over his shoulder.

“You think I’m leaving you alone with him?”

“He’s you.”

“EXACTLY”

Suddenly, he grabs a glass from the draining board, fills it from the faucet and downs it in three gulps, not taking his eyes off you and the other model.

“You’re not pissing in the sink,” you say, in a tone that doesn’t leave room for negotiation.

Five’s eyes dart back and forth between you both.

“You come with me to the bathroom then,” he says, stubbornly.

“Don't be ridiculous. Go pee.”

And, when he looks as if he still might argue, you continue:

“If he’s going to stay here then you’ll have to learn to be adults about this.”

“Not a problem for me,” breaks in the older, scratching his chin, “maybe he can’t.”

The younger Five stands irresolute for a few moments before making his decision.

“Fine. But you stay away from her.”

“Sure,” says the older, raising his voice to follow him as he walks up the stairs, “you make sure you’re only going for a piss. Remember, you can't maintain the protection if you off me!”

Almost as soon as the bathroom door closes, the older Five’s eyes are on you. In two strides, he’s close to you again.

His hand gropes for yours, and he rests his forehead just above your temple.

You can feel his breath on your cheek. You’re not sure how to navigate loyalties here.

“Kiss me. Please”

You turn your head away, but he lifts your left hand and brings your fingers up to his face.

He kisses the engagement ring with grateful fervor, fumbling with his shirt, loosening the tie and top button, giving himself access to a chain around his neck which he pulls it out to show you.

Your engagement ring hangs there, identical to the one on your finger, the shine of the rubies and band a little faded over time. He holds it out to you like an offering.

“I’ve never taken it off.” he says, voice barely more than a whisper.

His gaze is so intense you almost can’t hold his eyes. His brow is worried into the lines you know so well. His voice breaks again with the next words.

“Please. Kiss me. It’s been so long. Quickly: before he gets back.”

You’re uncertain, but the pleading look that comes upon him makes you unable to deny him. You turn your head and kiss him, keeping it light and unheated in the uncertainty of the situation.

His hands fly to your head, caressing your hair, cheeks, neck; as if he can’t touch enough of you at once. As much as you tried to keep it restrained, his kiss is powerful, desperate, deprived; tasting of bourbon and tear-salt.

As he sobs a little into your mouth, you feel a sudden rush of love and sympathy for him. You deepen the kiss and his tongue slides between your lips. His need is obvious and you can’t help but respond to him in kind.

Heat starts to tingle deep in your lower stomach, your skin lights up in the wake of his touch. Neither of you hear the toilet flush as you lean into him. One of his hands moves down to the swell of your stomach.

“Hey!”

The older Five is torn from you with the force of a fist that nearly knocks him off his feet. The Five just returned from the bathroom grabs him by his sleeve and tears him away from you. As he pulls back his fist for another punch, the older Five blinks away reappearing by the kitchen and spitting blood.

All Five’s anger turns on you.

“What do you think you were doing?” he yells, angrily, “I leave for two minutes and you’re kissing another man?”

You raise your arms in unadulterated frustration.

“It’s NOT another man! Can you give me more than ten minutes to be confused about this?”

Younger Five turns to Older, now filling his own glass at the sink.

“You just stay over there. This one’s MINE. You had yours and then you fucked up and killed her.”

“Sorry- 'this one's yours' ? " you break in, objecting to the implication of ownership.

“Stay out of this,” says the older, half stern, half protective, “this is between me and him.”

You shake your head disbelievingly.

When you look back on this event, you’ll never be sure whether it’s rage or confusion that causes you to do what you do next. Perhaps it's the pregnancy hormones and Five's anguished kiss combining to make you unpredictable, even to yourself.

You want to stick it to him, but you’re not sure which him…or precisely why.

You march over to the older Five and push him against the kitchen counter, recapturing his lips with yours with angry intensity. He takes a moment of shock for him to register the situation, but he soon reciprocates, making a soft noise and submitting to the kiss.

Before it can go any further, the younger Five pulls you away, but you twist in his grip and kiss him fiercely too. At first, he doesn’t respond, as surprised as his older-self, but his lips melt into yours as you reach around his body and take a firm buttock into each of your hands. His tongue enters your mouth after you give him an appreciative little squeeze.

“W-what the hell are you doing?” says the other Five.

You break apart from the younger one, keep your arm around his waist and use your free arm to pull the other Five to you by the collar. There, you give him another hearty kiss on dumbstruck lips.

You’re in between them both. Their confusion is evident, but you can tell that the slow creep of lust and novelty is starting to overpower them, even with the psychosis symptoms raging and them both shifting uncomfortably as new places begin to itch. You free your lips and speak to both of them:

“I love you however you are. Both of you. It’s just YOU to me, Ok? I am far too pregnant with your baby to referee your arguments.”

You hadn’t planned this next part, but it happens anyway. You snake both of your arms down, slowly, caressing both of their bodies in a leisurely way on the path of each hand. Their bodies feel different, but somehow the same: though one has undergone eight more years of erosion and deposition, it’s the same geography.

Each one of your hands finds their crotches at almost the same time. There, he feels exactly the same, and you start to knead them through their pants.

“Now. Why can’t you share nicely?

Under each of your hands, you feel them both harden perceptively. The older Five lets out a puff of air, face going slightly pale as blood rushes south.

You suppress a laugh; it seems he’s just as predictable in situations like this, whatever iteration of him.

Almost simultaneously, they close their eyes and enjoy the feel of you on them, ignoring for now the cognitive dissonance plaguing them both.

“God, I forgot how weird and horny you got." croaks older Five, the hint of a laugh behind his words, “You're doing me first."

He breaks away, pulling you with him onto the larger couch. He positions himself behind you and begins to kiss your neck, edging himself close so that his pelvis grinds needily into your ass.

“Wait- no!”

The other Five gives chase, brow furrowing in dismay. He places himself on your other side and pulls your body to his instead.

“If either of us has first dibs, it’s me.” he says firmly, kissing your lips and gently massaging one of your breasts.

They fight over you again, but now they’re competing for your attention rather than against one another. As one Five touches your breast, the other spreads warm, ticklish kisses up the sensitive skin of your neck, each trying to claim your hands and lips for themselves.

Little spasms of pleasure zap their way from your core outwards as you feel them both on you. Your fingers and toes pulse with the shockwaves of arousal and your pussy slickens as a hitherto unacknowledged fantasy starts to come true:

Sometimes, in the throes of passion, when he fills one of your holes so totally and deliciously, you find yourself yearning for a him to fill the other hole too…

“Y’know…” you angle your face away from them both, still caressing you, “having a threesome with yourself has got to be top of the time traveler’s bucket list...imagine the clout."

There’s a beat of disapproval in which they both think you’re joking.

There’s a beat of shock in which they both realize you’re not.

…and there’s a beat of curiosity and they simultaneously turn the idea over in their minds and find it not entirely repugnant.

The older Five feels very hard against you. The silence is laden with their thoughts and calculations. Its almost as if you can hear the gears whirring in their brains. You don’t dare speak, lest you break the spell.

Eventually, their eyes meet.

“I'm…open to it, if you are.” says the older, slowly.

The younger Five’s expression deepens, but he otherwise gives no answer. The older Five continues:

“But no touching. And no eye-contact.”

“It’s literally your own body Five,” you say, smirking, but they ignore you.

The younger Five nods slowly.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but okay.”

You make a little noise of excitement, but he waves it away, eyes still on his doppelganger and holding up an authoritative finger.

“But let’s make one thing clear: this is not a threesome. We just happen to be having sex with the same woman at the same time.”

"Whatever you have to tell yourself." you say provokingly, stroking Older Five's ass and trying, with strokes up and down the clothed length to increase the hardness between the younger one's legs.

They studiously ignore you, instead extending identical right hands and shaking:

“Done.”

You knew precisely what you wanted from them. As much as the Fives tried to pretend the reverse, the idea was intriguing to you all.

As you shower, the Fives are left awkwardly in the bedroom as they await their turn. They sit on each end of the bed, facing away from each other. The younger Five breaks it.

“We’re a real fucking pervert, aren’t we?”

The older Five lets out a reluctant chuckle.

“You already knew that, didn’t you?”

They fell again into silence, one heavy with the same memories, perhaps with as many shameful reminiscences as fond ones.

They’re both thankful when you return from the shower and the Older Five can excuse himself to take his own.

Still damp, you lie on the bed and tempt your timeline’s Five into your arms with an appealing smile. This, he can’t resist, and any lingering shame is driven away by your kisses and in the warmth of your love.

The psychosis symptoms seem to ease while the other Five is in a different room. As he undresses ready for his own shower, you ask:

“You sure you’re OK with this? I know this is all a lot to take in.”

“Honestly, I'm probably too horny to care.” he replies, fumbling with his trousers.

“Try to hold the farts, if you can. It might be a turn off.”

He chuckles and joins you on the bed, naked now.

"Okay. From now on, we can sleep with each other's doppels. If we ever find another you, then you gotta return the favor threesome - wise."

"Is that likely?" you ask.

He climbs on the bed and rubs his balls with a careless, idle hand. He looks good sitting there. Something about him touching himself so casually makes you flush with heat.

"Nope,” he says, raising an ironical eyebrow, “But a guy can dream…” he looks away with an attitude of sober consideration.

“Y’know, I think I'd have one of you sit on my face and the other ride my dick."

You take over the stroking of his balls, raising an eyebrow of your own at his little fantasy.

“Maybe I still need a bit of persuading into doing this...” he says, tracing your mouth with his thumb suggestively.

“Would sucking you help?”

“Oh yes, I think it might," he says, that twinge of cocky confidence creeping into his voice.

You lie on your side beside him and scooch so your head's level with his dick. Then, looking up at him, you tease it with licks until it reaches a full stand, hot against your tongue

He groans as you take the head into your mouth and suck him like a lollipop. His glans is swollen and silky against your hard palette.

“Oh, fuck, you’re perfect.”

You run your tongue around him in the way you know he likes, beneath the ridge of his cockhead. You’ve sucked him many times before, but it always surprises you how velvety this part of him feels against your lips.

You deepen your sucks, taking a quarter inch more with each bob towards him. He lets out a little gasp as more and more of him is enveloped by the warm wetness. He throws his head back with a gasp, a muscle twitching in his straining neck.

Absent minded, still enjoying your mouth, his hand reaches down to scratch his upper thigh.

“Getting started without me?”

The older Five’s leaning casually on the doorframe, scratching his neck and looking at you,

“You look so good doing that.”

Your Five scowls and gets up, “I’ll go for my shower.”

“No need to hurry back,” says the damp version by the door. You look up at him. He’s still your Five, but his body looks a little different. These years have clearly not been kind to him; he’s not as muscular as he once was.

He crosses the room and climbs on top of you, being careful of your belly. His voice lowers to a whisper.

“You don’t know how much I’ve dreamed of this.”

He kisses you, sweetly at first, but lets passion overtake his tenderness after a little time. He tears his mouth from yours and kisses your neck over and over again, hair coming loose from its neat part. Your ring, hung around his neck, skates across your chest. Between kisses, he speaks.

“There’s been- nobody else- Nobody- I couldn’t- I didn’t wa-”

You have no trouble believing this; his dick is rock solid against you. You could swear you could feel his pulse in it, beating against your thigh.

His mouth moves to your nipples, even more sensitive now as your body prepares for motherhood. You moan together as he sucks you. His emotions are clearly high, lust battling with joy, battling with grief. It churns him into a frenzy.

“I love you. God, I love you. I’ll never stop loving you. You’re so fucking beautiful”

“I love you too Five.”

He lets out a noise partway between a sob and a moan, moving his head back to your chest. He suckles one nipple, tweaking and tickling the other with soft fingers, swapping his mouth every minute or so.

You arch your back into him, as his mouth wreaks ecstatic little curls of heat all the way down your spine. He might have been abstinent for eight years, but there are some things you never forget how to do: pleasuring you is apparently one of his.

Overtaken by sensation, you don’t know how long it takes until you again scooch down the foot of the bed and take him into your mouth.

His moan is more intense than his younger self. His hands fly to each side of your head, urging it back a little as his hips tense. He’s too sensitive.

“Oh shit, I’m going to come so quickly,” he whispers.

“She does look good doing that.”

The younger Five is back, his dick at a full stand after his shower. You’re not sure how long he’s been watching.

He joins you on the bed, and you find your body pressed between theirs, two pairs of hands all over you, roaming with equal reverence and proprietorial confidence. It’s almost too much. Too good. All you can do is dissolve into their caresses.

Now they suck a nipple each, unconsciously making almost identical tongue movements that send you somewhere incoherent. For once, neither breast is left out- they both feel warm, wet and titillated by an eager tongue. One of their hands, you’re not sure which, plays with your clit with that deft, efficient movement that characterizes his lovemaking.

The older Five seems to want to do everything and anything he can to you, having been starved of your touch for so long. His enthusiasm spurs the younger on to make sure you don’t forget about him.

You can tell they’re trying to outdo each other. They both have to stop their attentions occasionally to scratch a maddening itch or drink copiously from the large containers of water you’ve set up by the bed. Occasionally little silent fights break out over who gets to touch what part of you, one batting the other’s hand away.

“Come on boys”, you say, disapprovingly, “play nice.”

Younger Five gets up on his knees, rubbing himself as he looms over you both. He doesn’t look at his older self, but his tone makes it clear he’s talking to him.

“If we’re going to do this, I want her ass.”

“No arguments there.”

And abruptly, they seem to have decided. Older Five pulls you on top of him with a smile and a cheeky rise and fall of his eyebrows. His eyes flutter close in anticipation as he rubs himself gently down your slit, sucking in air between his teeth.

From behind him, obscured from your view, you hear the younger Five’s voice, cadenced as if he’s ashamed of you.

“So you want two dicks at once?”

“Fuck yes,” you say, smiling in response to the smile in his voice

“You're such a slut,” he says, happily, scratching the back of his thigh.

You can’t respond, as the other Five kisses you hungrily, hands everywhere all at once. Every now and again, he breaks away just to look into your face, eyes all sweet intensity. You feel the one behind you rubbing something slippery onto your ass and between your cheeks.

“What’s that?”

"Olive oil,” you hear a grin in his voice, “we didn't pack lube in all the rush.”

His fingers start to gently probe your ass, covered with even more oil.

“That okay?” he whispers, softly, “we go as slow as you need, okay?”

“That’s fine.” you reply, but cut yourself off as the dick beneath you enters you unexpectedly the Five beneath you rubs himself there.

You let out simultaneous gasps of pleasure at the sudden connection. His mouth gapes, in an expression of ecstasy so intense, he almost looks pained. He’s completely undone. Looking down at him, heart swelling in adoration, you begin to rock on him, giving you both the friction you need.

“Hey,” says the younger, gently scissoring two fingers in your ass to stretch you, “this asshat’s going to come in about thirty seconds, so if you want both dicks you’re going to have to wait until your ass will take it.”

“No. Just fuck me,” the older Five whispers.

With scoff, the other one mutters, “Pathetic.”

You chuckle and raise your hips a little, and the Five beneath you whines as his dick flops back onto his stomach.

“I’ve waited for so long. Please. I want you. I want you, baby.”

You lower your head, kiss his cheek and whisper into his ear.

“Just a little longer."

To make up for it, you kiss his neck and nibble your way up his ear. Then you run your tongue down his helix.

He smiles and lets out a contented sigh.

“I’d forgotten you used to do that.”

You kiss his lips as you feel younger Five withdraw his fingers from your ass, making you hum with the feeling of the muscle contracting. You hear him rub more oil along the length of his dick with a wet noise.

“I think we’re ready back here.” he says, voice a low rasp.

You don’t have to see him to know how his face looks: you can see him in your mind’s eye, biting his lip as he looks down at you.

Rubbing your hips gently, you feel him pressing his tip against your ass, testing it and finding it yielding to him easily.

You kiss the older one again and reposition yourself on top of him, lowering yourself slowly. He gasps again as your folds open and welcome him back in.

You bend forward, pressing your torso towards the Five beneath you and presenting your ass to the one behind.

“You ready?” he asks.

You flush with excitement as his hands continue to stroke your hips in that gentle, reassuring way.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

The tip of his dick meets your asshole again, and he pushes in.

“Oh shit, that’s tight!”

He sounds shocked, his voice a little higher than natural. He slides it in by tiny increments, keeping his breathing controlled and steady. When he’s half in, the Five in your pussy throws his head back on the pillow,

“Ughh…I can feel it,” he whispers, “It's getting tighter."

This seems to electrify the younger Five. His hips thrust forward without him seeming to control it consciously, and he’s suddenly in you to the hilt. It’s intense and you draw in your breath with a little gasp of discomfort.

“Let me get used to it,” you breathe, and they both freeze.

You feel stuffed. Full. Like they couldn’t possibly fit…and yet there they are.

You take another couple of deep breaths, feeling them both inside you. It’s intense- there is no space to spare, and it makes you feel parts of yourself you didn’t know exist. It feels like there’s less than a half-inch membrane between his two dicks. Your body is sandwiched between his. You’ve never felt more his than now; when he's got you skewered from both ends.

“You ready?” whispers the Five balls deep in your ass.

You wiggle your hips experimentally, provoking an intake of breath from the Five beneath you. It all feels fine: more than fine.

“Yes.” you whisper.

As they both begin to fuck you, the orgasm builds immediately. The spasms down your legs make your toes curl, and you cry out.

Both Fives have their own rhythm, pushing their hips into you at different rates, sliding in and out of you so that there isn’t a single moment you don’t feel pleasure. Your skin is on fire, unsure if you can take this much longer.

“Oh god.”

You can feel the younger Five’s fingernails digging into you as he rides out the intensity,the words a strained little whine escaping from between his clenched teeth.

It’s this noise, thin and throaty, that pushes you to the edge, and you come explosively while they still have more than enough stamina. You can feel your pussy dripping wetness onto the cock thrusting into it as you tremble and spasm around them both.

“Oh fuck.”

As they fuck you together, you keep coming, screaming and groaning and cursing repeatedly. They’re so close together that it feels like one long, trembling peak of pleasure.

You toss your head on the pillow beside the Older Five’s, barely conscious of his kisses and whispered enderaments. It’s like your body was made to take two of him at once. If your mind was your own, you might be wondering if you can ever go back to just one dick after this, but all you can do is see stars blinking in front of your vision and mutter nonsense as if it were a prayer chant.

“Oh fuck, Five. I’m so full. I’m so full of you. I can feel both of them. I can feel them rubbing each other.”

This makes them both groan, you having vocalized the part they were both trying not to focus on…maybe the best part. Simultaneously, they throw aside their inhibitions and allow themselves to acknowledge it, to feel it, to know that their dicks stroking each other within your tightness feels good.

Every thread of your nervous system is on fire, or maybe they hum with electricity; his electricity, generated by the delicious friction inside you. You lean forward, scrunching the older Five's hair between your fingers, knowing but not caring that your face must be ugly with the contortions of this horrible, perfect pleasure. His neck arches helplessly, eyes heavily lidded.

His eyes look misty, almost lazy as he comes, making a sweet noise; animalistic only in its reminiscence of a small, cornered creature. It's full of want. Then, his eyes widen and he stops his hips with another whimper: it's too much to keep moving. He lets out a breathy mewl, raising his hands to your face as he lets the movement of the other’s dick milk the jets of come from him. He strokes your jaw oh-so-gently, thumbs whispering over your skin.

The sound of your mingled pleasure pushes the younger Five to his limit, and he comes too, as aggressive as the other was sweet, pounding at your asshole with violence that makes your nipples harden all over again.

You hear and feel him come: the throbbing in your ass as his dick pumps. He pushes himself in as far as he can, spilling there hot and deep, balls meeting your asscheeks. In his last moments of pleasure, he leans forward and downwards, stretching further up on his knees, trying to get even deeper.

As he finishes, you lie between them, feeling absolutely ruined. You pant and enjoy the final fizzles of pleasure in and around your pussy.

The younger Five addresses the other, breathlessly.

“Do you feel that?”

“Yeah…I feel good.”

“The Commission needs to update the handbook: orgasm staves off the symptoms of Paradox Psychosis. Who knew?”

“Good to know, considering we have to live together for weeks.”

“I still think you’re an asshole though”

“Right back at ya.”

Their softening dicks are still inside you, but both seem to be enjoying staying there. Their legs are touching, a fact they’re both ignoring in the post orgasm bliss. Now your arousal is abating, the ridiculousness of what just happened dawns on you.

“I am so telling Klaus what we just did.”

“Don’t you dare!” they say, with identical intonation.

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @rorygi1more, @jamiebower88

Chapter 10 on Tumblr Next Tues

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03. Here is a link to the whole series

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