#Five hargreeves salt

[mistressoftherant-blog]

TUA Finale

Spoilers below for the Umbrella Academy final and my not so positive opinion of it.

Why did anyone on the writers team think it was a good idea to have Lila and Five do that?!

I already didn't like Lila for the stunt she pulled with the kid, making Diego get attached to a boy he would never see again and then dropping the bombshell that she was pregnant. I was already a little mad that Five ruined Diego's breakout plan from the asylum, getting him stuck with a needle, put in a straitjacket and locked in a padded cell.

I never appreciated the fact that both of them call Diego dumb constantly (nor the fact that the show has dumbed him down significantly since season 1). The body shaming from Lila was also uncomfortable.

But this... this was a whole new level of awful. And because it was the end of the season and they were all dying, Diego just had to accept it and move on?? Like this was shoved in at the end for a bit of cheap drama.

Cheating is not the answer to feeling unhappy in marriage, especially not with your husband's brother. Especially not when you have three young kids. I really wish Lila could have just been a friend to them rather than in a relationship with any of them. It always bothered me how the writers basically erased Patch and then had Diego move on with Lila like what they had had was nothing, when her death was such a massive moment.

And it was despicable behaviour from Five, especially the way he acted towards Diego in his in-laws home (Or his own home, I wasn't quite clear on that). He's always been condescending and arrogant, and treated Diego in particular in a pretty shitty way, but I always accepted that he was a well-written character. This move destroyed that.

Plus, there is no getting around how weird it was age wise. Five is a man in his 60s mentally (actually, would he be in his 70s seeing as he said he was 62/3 in the beginning of the show and then they spend 7 years trapped?) and a teenager physically. It's creepy. Majorly creepy. Expecially as the writers basically threw this in because they decided everyone needed at least one love story. Which is not true. Platonic stories are just as important narrative wise, and in real life. Also odd vibes that Five's actor would have pretty much just turned 18 when they filmed all of that.

Also, did they just forget that Digeo has a stutter?? I thought for sure that he was going to stutter when confronting Lila and Five as that was a big emotional moment which tends to bring his stutter on or make it worse. But, nope, no stutter at all. (I also feel like Lila was quite patronising when Diego was stuttering last season, though that may just be me reading too much into it as I never liked her character.)

They also seemed to forget Lila's abilities. They made her stupid powerful, (and yes, call me petty, but it pissed me off that they introduced someone who could steal all of their powers and who was basically an extreme, overpowered, not like other girls character), but didn't keep it consistent. Why could she use Viktor's powers in the final fight, but no one else's? Couldn't she have just teleported them into the building instead of needing to dig the knife in deeper for Diego by saying how much she needed Five?

This season was a hot mess, and I have so many gripes with it. There were some good points, like Jean and Gene were fun antagonists, and the Diego and Luther brotherly relationship was great, but none of that can redeem just how awful it was overall.

[em1989ts]

𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 - 𝒑𝒕. 2

five hargreeves x reader

word count: 1.7k

part one. part two. part three.

summary: after you discovered a deli full of alternate versions of your cheating husband, you realize they would never hurt you the way he did. once he finds you getting comfortable with another version of him, you'll have to work together to figure out how to save the world.

authors note: thank you so much for all the notes on part one! i appreciate it so much since i thought no one would ever see it. here's the highly requested part two, enjoy!

You could tell it was him right away. Your Five had burst into the deli like he was crashing a wedding. When you walked in, every Five had a look of awe displayed across his face, but now that look was replaced with anger and disappointment. 

You could tell Five had shrunk a bit under the gaze of his counterparts yet he firmly walked over to the booth where you were sitting with the new Five that you had been talking to. He had a shameful look in his eye yet held a stoic visage. Glancing down at your gentle hands still firmly held in the palms of the other Five, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked between the two of you.

“What- what is this?” He scoffed in an annoyed manner, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing yet somehow he knew exactly what was happening. 

The Five across from you gently released your hands as his eye twitched and he stood up and faced your Five. Even though they were both exactly the same height, you could tell they were challenging each other by standing up a little straighter, your Five standing slightly on his toes.

 New Five had an angry clench in his jaw yet held a slight smirk. He addressed your Five in a low tone, “You must be a fluke if you think you can just apologize and win her back because there’s not a single Five in this room that would hurt her the way you did.” 

You looked up at the two of them from your seat in the booth. You hadn’t mentioned how your Five had hurt you, what he’d done to lose you. How could this Five have known? Still however, you appreciated his defense. You had always thought it’d be pathetic to see two guys fight over you, but to see two versions of the same man, one who has hurt and wronged you and the other who holds an unconditional and undying love for you, it ignited a spark in you that you thought you’d never feel again in your existence. 

Existence. 

Once the new Five finished his sentence you could see the offense on your Five’s face as he prepared a rebuttal but you shut that down quickly. 

“Enough,” you held a hand out as if to break the aggressive tension between them, “this is irrelevant. We need to discuss a plan.” 

Your Five took this as an opportunity to occupy the seat next to you in the booth but new Five beat him to it by pulling him back by the arm and sliding in next to you, as well as placing a hand on your thigh. 

Your Five was taken aback by the action yet quickly regained his composure as he settled into the seat across from the two of you. 

Waiter Five stopped by once again to drop off another mug of coffee for your Five as well as to top of your mug and Five’s. You thanked him and took a sip as he waltzed away with a wink. You watched as your Five took a sip from his mug which he immediately spit back out. The deli of Fives erupted in laughter as both you and your Five looked around confused. 

The Five sitting next to you whispered an explanation in your ear, stating that Waiter Five had poured a couple of salt packets into his coffee rather than sugar. You grinned and hid your laugh in the shoulder of the Five next to you, him still facing you, your foreheads nearly touching. Your Five watched with a heartache as he dabbed his mouth with a napkin and set it back down on the table. 

The laughter had mostly died down, excluding a very sloshed and disheveled looking Five who continued to chuckle and hiccup while leaning against a door. 

You were still leaning slightly onto the Five next to you as he spoke, “So I take it you figured out the subway system by now” 

“Alternate versions of the same moment in time?” Five asked.

“Correct,” the other Five responded, “We’re all you from alternate timelines. Most of us here have given up on trying to fix the broken timeline.” 

Your Five listened with a befuddled look on his face and before he could question the words of the Five before him, you piped up an explanation, “It’s us who shattered the original timeline.” 

“Thank you, dear,” said the Five next to you as he brought an arm around your shoulder. You couldn’t tell if he was being this affectionate because he really missed his y/n or because he could see how badly it was ticking your Five off but either way you wanted to play along, leaning into his affection. 

He broke your gentle eye contact to once again address the Five glaring at you both.

“The timeline was shattered the moment we came into existence, leaving us with an infinite number of alternate timelines in an infinite loop of trying to save the world,” he said in a tired voice. 

You took a moment to really look at him, he looked so exhausted. 

So did your timeline’s Five.

So did Drunk Five, Waiter Five, and Brisket Five. 

Sure they looked content in the deli, as it was their place to escape, but the tired looks in their eyes really showed how hard they had tried and how worn out it made them. 

You didn’t realize it but you were staring so deeply into the eyes of your timeline’s Five. With such a soft look he thought would never come his way again. You felt sorry for him. You really did but there is nothing that could excuse everything he did. Nothing could excuse the betrayal and heartbreak he caused you. That was his fault and he would have to deal with every ounce of guilt and shame that accompanied him in his downfall. 

His eyes met yours, the green shining with sorrow as he attempted to convey all his feelings through his irises. You both knew your relationship would never be the same, even if you survived the Cleanse. There was just too much that couldn’t be undone. 

You broke the connection first, turning away to look at the tiled floor of the deli instead. 

Your Five continued to look at you. 

Your eyes. Your hair. 

He never could’ve loved Lila like he loved you, how could he have thrown you away so easily? 

His love for you was what kept his fire burning all these years. His love for you ignited his passion for saving the world,  just so you could live safely. 

Just so you could live without surviving on cockroaches or the roof of a crumbling library. 

Just so you could live without having to kill in fear of being killed. 

Just so you could live a happy and comfortable life, even if it no longer meant a life with him. 

You clenched your jaw in thought before turning to the Five next to you, “What can we do? I mean, there has to be a way out of this.” 

He looked at you with an answer he was sure you wouldn’t like, “The only way this cycle will end is if you cease to exist. You have to let the marigold combine with the durango in the Cleanse.” 

You raised a brow, “Just the marigold?” 

Five looked at you confused, “Yes, the marigold infected our mothers the moment the timeline was shattered.” 

“So it’s not actually us that’s the problem?” You waved your finger in a circle, gesturing to yourself, Five, and his absent siblings. 

“Technically not,” Five confirmed. 

You leaned back into the seat as Five returned his arm to his side. You bit your lip as you tried to remember anything that might help you come up with a plan, then it hit you. 

Viktor. 

You remember how he told everyone that when he lived on the farm back in Dallas, he saved Harlan, the little boy who drowned in the lake, by giving him some of his marigold. 

You also remembered that he was able to take away the marigold in the barn, and whatever was left back at Hotel Obsidian. 

You lifted your head, your eyes bright as the idea swirled in your mind. 

You brought your hands onto the table, finding that you explain best with random hand motions, “What about Viktor, he could absorb our marigolds and transfer out his own into the Cleanse. That way the marigold and durango meet but we won’t have to die, we just won’t have our powers again.” 

Both Fives were silent for a moment as they contemplated your plan. The Five next to you was the first to react by holding your face in his palms and planting a kiss between your brows. “Darling,” he admired, “You’re an absolute genius.” 

Your timeline’s Five frowned in disagreement and jealousy, “What about Ben? If we combine our marigold with the Cleanse then he’ll die in there.” 

“That Ben was an asshole anyway,” you shrugged, honestly not caring since he was the reason you were in this dilemma in the first place. 

He hummed in agreement, not able to argue with you on that. He stood up and so did the other Five so he could let you out of the booth. 

Your Five didn’t want to hang around for goodbyes, you had come up with a plan and that was that. He grabbed your arm and tugged you towards the door. The other Five quickly grabbed your other arm to hold you in place. 

“Once this is all over, don’t go back to him. There are plenty of Fives here who will treat you so much better,” he winked at you as cheers of agreement ensued across the deli. 

A blush came across your face as you looked around at the hopeful smiles of every Five in the room. 

Maybe you didn’t have to stop loving Five.

You just had to let go of one. 

You slightly nodded and winked back at Five as he let go of your arm, letting your Five tug you back towards the subway with an upset stomp. Looking back with a little wave, you walked out as Drunk Five yelled, “Auf wiedersehen!” 

☕︎

part three.

authors note: hopefully you guys enjoy! originally i didn't plan on making a part two but i'm glad you guys liked it so much. my inbox is open for any requests and please let me know your thoughts in the comments!

taglist: @madscamp02 @buttermilkpetals @leitor-sonolento @ren-ren23 @alavit @tofueater78 @buzzbuzzlilbee @clownwritesfanfic @beanzwritez @pholuvre

(hopefully i did this right??)

[hihomeghere]

Hihomeghere Masterlist

I have a new masterlist! Check it out here!

Prompt list

The Umbrella Academy

Diego Hargreeves

Nightwing You try to keep Diego Hargreeves off your mind, especially after your break up. But after he breaks into your apartment begging you to patch him up. All the good and bad memories come flooding back.

Five Hargreeves

Wedding at the End of the World A reader insert for the episode Wedding at the End of the World. You and Five reminisce on your wedding/proposal before going to Luther and Sloanes wedding. You both go to the wedding with high hopes of a good evening.

Carousel Club After being dropped into 1963, you find work at the Carousel Club as a dancer. While following a tip where Luther could be, Five sees your routine. Overwhelmed by jealousy he sneaks into your dressing room.

Et tu, Brute? Based off a request, Five gets injured in a mission and you drop everything to make sure he's ok.

Insomniac Five has trouble sleeping and when he does sleep it's anything but peaceful. After a nightmare he craves your touch to remind him you're okay.

Tesoro Universe

Tesoro While working at the commission as a field agent you are assigned a new partner, Number Five.

Meet the Family Five finds a way to return to 2019, you both break your contract with the commission and you meet your in-laws for the first time.

One Bed After a failed mission with the commission, both you and Five find a hotel to rest in. The only problem is, you'll have to share a bed. (Can be read as a one-shot)

Unspoken thing Part 2 of One Bed, after that fateful night in the hotel room. Five has been avoiding you and now you're called into the Handler's office to take responsibility for the delay in exterminating the target.

Routine After the confession, Five and reader head back to a hotel room. Soft dom y/n. (Can be read as one-shot)

The Last of Us

Joel Miller

The Two C's Joel catches you smoking on your porch. Set in Jackson after the events of TLOU. Short and sweet

Red Dead Redemption 2

John Marston

Burning Love Set in the epilogue of RDR2. You stumble upon John in Blackwater after being alone for years. When he invites you to visit Beecher's Hope, will you be able to fight feelings that have been building ever since you were kids?

Gloves John goes crazy over you dressed up for a job, more specifically your white gloves

Arthur Morgan

Fakin' It After a botched robbery, Arthur and you take refuge in a hotel, hiding from the O'Driscolls outside your door. When they do decide to search for you two, how will you throw them off your track?

Fishing in the Dark You and Arthur have a private evening away from camp on the Dakota river.

Dreams Arthur starts having dreams of starting a family with you

My Eyes Only Arthur thinks you look like a work of art

Salt and Pepper Arthur notices his hair is starting to gray

Deserving 6. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear. 34. I think you're showing. 36. You're glowing. 41. The baby loves hearing you sing/speak. 83. Was that a kick?

Blue Ain't Your Color Loosely based on the song, Blue Ain't Your Color

Little Things Arthur returns from a successful job and wants nothing more than to bury himself in you

Charles Smith

Knight in Shining Armor 1. "Kiss me" "What-", 81. "Your heart is racing."

[anapotatowriter]

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!”

[ar3-y0u-l0st]

🕸🕯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: --

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- 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)

- Lurch (Addams Family)

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

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

[mangoshorthand]

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.

Chapter Seven: Scars

Now he knew why Lila had been acting like more of a prick than usual lately. 

Since not murdering Santiago’s mother was essential to maintaining his position as his favorite uncle, he decided against doing his drinking at home.

Instead, he sucked his final lime with his elbows on the bar before dropping the shot glass on the tray beside the other five. The ritual of salt, tequila and then lime always appealed to Five, and tequila was a remarkably efficient delivery system.

“Jesus, son. Another bad day?”

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

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

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

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

The guy, clearly drunker than Five was, (and nowhere near as drunk as Five intended to get), brushed off the rebuff.

“Name’s Geoff. What’s eatin you…?” he asked, the question tapering off expectantly.

“Five,” Five supplied, reluctantly.

“Like th-”

“Like the number, yes,” he snapped, irritated by the predictability.

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

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

Five chuckled darkly. Drunk as it was like six shots from a revolver, the tequila was permeating his brain extremely quickly. He found that Geoff wasn’t as annoying as he might have expected.

“Just chick stuff now.”

Geoff made a sympathetic noise, as if he knew Five’s situation of old.

“You in a fight with your girl?”

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

Geoff looked his confusion and Five explained.

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

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

“No.” Five grunted, raising his new glass briefly to Geoff before downing the shot. When he surfaced, wincing slightly, he continued:

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

He was 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 replied, 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 said, 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 repeated, not really listening, “my ex could never understand that I’m not a mind-reader.”

The two men talked over each other:

“-You don’t just throw it away because it wasn’t normal or whatever.” Five said, 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 or whatever. Delores was twice the woman she is-”

“...and maybe,” Geoff ranted, “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 stopped talking at the same time, both of them having caught up with some contents of what the other said. There was a brief moment in which they looked 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.” Geoff replied, clearly deciding that the mental wherewithal to unpack how such a young man could have had a 40 year relationship with a sex doll was beyond him, “bye then.”

He decamped quickly, not looking back.

After the brief interruption, Five turned 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 looked 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 tried to summon the wit needed to persuade the guy, but found it that he lacked it given the sudden influx of alcohol to his brain. “Ah…well fuck you.”

He blinked with surprising accuracy given the booze and emerged, swaying, behind the bartender. He grabbed an opened bottle of scotch, gave him the finger, and disappeared again.

He shivered out on the street in a sudden blast of chilly December air. Drinking out in the open wasn’t a problem for him: that was where he’d done most of the drinking in his life, after all.

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: Delores. 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 took off his tie and undid a couple of shirt buttons as he walked, not really knowing where he was walking to. He’d clung to her; a lifebuoy in stormy oceans and, in return, she’d kept him afloat. Their love was a deep-rooted thing, 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 to 2019 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 had only ever used faceless mannequins. 

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

Delores 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. 

Yet 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 raised the bottle to his lips, inhaled the smoky, molasses smell and relished the precious oblivion it promised.

An improvised fuckdoll. A fuckdoll, you called her?

His teeth worked furiously at his lower lip.

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

“Please! S’still Thursday.”

You woke suddenly, eyes wide. It was him. He was outside in the hall, knocking loudly and insistently.

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

Cautiously, you got 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 could hear him moving around in the hall: his heavy movement sliding against your door. 

“Please. I’m sorry. Pleeeaase.”

He didn’t sound like himself. 

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

At last, you spoke through the door.

“Go away, Five.”

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

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

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

“m’sorry.”

He looked entirely and absolutely awful.

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

He swayed, following your gaze as if expecting to see onlookers gathered. 

If his hair was mussed before, now it was a disaster; some stuck up at odd angles and the rest was plastered to his face. His tie, waistcoat and left shoe were gone. His shirt was untucked and unbuttoned to just above his nipples. His face, though still handsome, looked slack, his eyes unfocused. He held a bottle of scotch by the neck with less than a finger’s width left in the bottom.

“Shit.” you muttered, under your breath.

He smelled so strongly of the whisky that it hung in a miasma around him. 

“I need to pee,” he whined, like a kid in school.

You regarded him for just one more moment and then stood aside with an angry exhale, now only happy to get him off your doorstep. Better for him to be inside embarrassing himself than to be outside embarrassing you. 

“Thank you,” he said. As he entered,  he stopped a second, facing you in the doorway. His eyes were bloodshot:

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

You’re weren’t sure what to do with this information.

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

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

His words blurred together. 

“How much tequila?”

He stepped past you. On his first attempt to enter, he walked into the bathroom door frame, making it through on the rebound. You could hear him urinating, muttering incoherently under his breath. 

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

“Only two shots…or maybe like, six?”

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

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

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

“Five?” 

Yet more retching was the only response.

“Okay, I’m coming in.”

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

You hovered, unsure what to do. Him vomiting was probably good, right? It was hard to feel too sorry for him given his behavior, but listening to his painted groans wasn’t exactly fun. As much as he terrified you that night, hearing him in real discomfort still tugged at you. Your hand hovered for a moment as you considered laying it comfortingly between his shoulder blades, but anger stopped you.

 When, at last, he subsided into watery gasps, you leaned over him and flushed the toilet.

“God…I’m so sorry.”

He fell back onto his heels, one hand still holding the bottle where it stood upright on your bathroom floor. He looked up at you, chin caked in puke. Now the entire bathroom was filled with the mixed smells of scotch, piss and bile. 

You shook your head at him.

“Take off your clothes.”

He giggled drunkenly.

“This is hardly the time!” 

“Shut up and get in the shower.”

He laughed again and stood up, swaying. You caught his bicep to steady him.

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

He said it ironically, but his use of the endearment made you frown.

He managed his shirt and shoe alone, but needed to put a hand on your shoulder for balance to remove his trousers and underwear, struggling to stand on one leg. 

When he was naked, you helped him take the wobbly step over the side of your bathtub, turned on the shower and pulled the curtain in front of him. 

“Ah! S’cold!” he exclaimed, shocked by the water’s icy temperature. 

You couldn’t help but feel a hint of schadenfreude at this.

“I don’t care how cold it is. Deal with it. It’ll warm up in a second.”

“Okay,” he said, submissively. 

 The shampoo’s next to you. Make sure you wash everything. You stink.”

“Yessirrr,” he slurred.

You kicked his clothes to one side and with a sigh, turned to the cupboard beneath the sink and dug out your cleaning stuff: the heavy-duty antibacterial variety. You cleaned the floor and the toilet, trying not to puke yourself at the smell. As you worked, you could hear Five stumbling around in the shower.

As you scrubbed, you asked yourself what the fuck you were doing here. Here you were, cleaning the vomit of a man who screamed in your face earlier, someone you knew could murder you if he chose. A man who trashed your apartment, who never even held you after he fucked and degraded you.

A small clatter and a whisper.

“Shit.”

He’d dropped the shampoo. 

Not wanting him to attempt to bend over, make his head spin and vomit again, you removed one of your latex gloves and leaned over the bath to pass it to him. 

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

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

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

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

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

You finished up your cleaning and closed the toilet lid, using it as a seat while you waited for him to finish in the shower. Once or twice, you were sure you caught him sing-humming a couple of bars of Cher’s If I Could Turn Back Time . 

You certainly didn’t imagine any of this knelt on the floor with his gun to your head.

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

“Yup.”

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

You got him dried, supervised him cleaning his teeth, helped him put his underwear back on, and then shepherded him into the living space and onto the couch. At least the water seemed to have sobered him up slightly.

“I don’t deserve you.”

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

“No, you don’t,” you said, pointedly.

As he lay down, you put a full glass of water on the coffee table and a basin on the floor near his head, just in case. As you did so, he looked up at you.

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

He took a few sob-like breaths before continuing.

“She kept me sane…more or less.”

You sat cross-legged in front of the couch, your face on a level with his. 

“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 turned his face into the couch cushion, muffling his voice.

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

You waited. You could sense there was more to come.

“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 couldn’t help but pity him. Your anger and resentment ebbed away even as you watched him, hiding his face in your couch. You knew how much this must have cost him to say. For once, he looked like the lost, lonely boy of so long ago.

“She sounds very special.”

“She was”

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

He couldn’t unpack this. Maybe it was the drink, maybe not, but you tried 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?” he said. And then, as his characteristic cynicism faded, “Thanks.”

You stood up.

“I have work tomorrow. Drink that water and then sleep on your side in case you puke again. I’d rather avoid having someone who looks like he’s not legal to drink choking to death on my couch.”

“ ‘kay,” he mumbled, eyes already heavy as he shifted onto his side, “she always said I drink too much.”

“She was right.”

*** Friday morning. You intended to let him sleep, but when you entered the living room he wasn’t there. The blanket he slept under was folded neatly on the couch, the bowl and water glass clean and drying on your draining board.

He’d cleaned up the broken glass and your destroyed TV was gone. In its place was a note:

New TV arrives tomorrow. Sorry again.

Masterpost

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

[rrcenic]

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

[fowlblue]

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.

[toxicshipsincorporated]

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.

[fiveapocalypse]

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

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

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.

[egret-orchids]

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

[thehargreevesfam]

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

[tinned-beef]

it’s the boy

(click for better resolution😩)

[duckgens]

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

[mangoshorthand]

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?

<<Back to Chapter 8 Onto chapter 10 >>

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

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