#delores would adore number and that would make him so mad

[sharkneto]

any particular thoughts on how number would react to delores?

Do I! Do I!

The long and short of it is that Number would fucking hate Delores. She represents too much about how bad things could have been for him and begs for self reflection, which he is not going to do.

She's an immediate shorthand to show how desperate and insane Five got living alone in the apocalypse, with the added level of that Number is also Five. Number is also confident and comfortable in his identity as aroace - been there, tried it, didn't like it, he's good to go. And now here's this alternate version of himself that not only went so far off the deep end that he made up a person to love, but he then made that fake person his wife.

We know the nuance of Five and Delores (at least through my headcanon - Five was 13 when he landed in the apocalypse and had very limited examples and vocabulary for what adult relationships are and mean to build his Person with), but Number absolutely is not going to sit down and listen. He's out, it's too close and too real and makes how close he was to being Five too much. Delores' introduction to us in the show was a real What The Fuck; her introduction to Number would be a true mindfuck. She's where he's drawing his line for Too Far.

[helaintoloki]

apocalypse {f.h.}

pairing: number five x reader

warnings: death, some angst, lots of language

notes: trying to fight my writer’s block and finish pieces I’ve forgotten aha im posting this at midnight rn

/inspired by the song apocalypse by cigarettes after sex/

you’ve been locked in here forever and you just can’t say goodbye

your scraped knees and twisted ankle were the only things you could feel as you limped along the abandoned roads. they used to be a freeway, you think, but it’s hard to tell considering everything looks the same in the new post apocalyptic world: destroyed and desolate. death wasn’t a very good decorator, but it probably had other things on its mind.

today marked one week since the apocalypse had swept away any and all life from the earth, besides you, of course. somehow, you’d been (un)lucky enough to survive. who knew hiding in the dryer during a game of hide and seek with friends would pay off in the long run. and now, here you were, injured and alone-

“shit.”

or so you thought.

“hello?” you called out desperately, and the voice you had heard seemed to vanish in thin air. “i-i need help. my ankle’s twisted and i just need a place to rest.” nothing.

with a sigh, you sat yourself down amongst the rubble and pulled out your water jug from your flask. yet as you held it over your mouth you were met with nothing but air. only a few drops landed on your tongue, escaping the jug once you tapped the bottom with your palm. at this rate, you’d be dead in a few days. it’s almost impossible to survive the apocalypse on your own... unless you’re number five.

with a gun suddenly pointed at your face, a voice on the other end of the barrel demands, “who are you?”

“y/n,” you reply calmly, a sense of tiredness in your voice. he notices, but maintains his death grip on the weapon and his finger on the trigger.

“are you alone?”

“i was, then you showed up.” the boy, as you can tell by now, narrows his green eyes at you. “listen, if you’re gonna kill me, all i ask is that you do it quick. put me out of my misery.”

he’s quiet, his brows furrowed as he contemplates his next move. then, with the gun lowered, “i’m not going to kill you.”

“that’s too bad,” you reply calmly, setting your jug aside before letting your back rest against the piece of debris behind you. “guess i’ll let Mother Nature do it herself.”

“are you always this depressing?” he asks slightly annoyed.

“not usually, but when the world you once knew goes to shit... well,” you shrug, “people change.”

“self-pity isn’t a good change.”

“yeah, well neither is violence.”

“trust me, that’s the one thing that’s stayed the same,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s speaking to himself. his posture has relaxed significantly and the gun is on safety. “i’m Five.”

“well, Five, looks like it’s just you and me.”

~~~

it had been three years ago since you had first stumbled upon five, and since then you two had been inseparable. you were the apocalyptic duo (plus delores), and nothing could get in your way. in fact, it was safe to say you were in love with him, and unbeknownst to you, the feeling was somewhat mutual.

today had been like any other day. you’d woken up next to each other, eaten breakfast, gotten ready for the day, then continued your trek to god knows where. you sat in the wagon with Delores while five pulled, admiring the post apocalyptic beauty of everything around you. it was kind of poetic, really. how things seemed prettier when destroyed. or maybe you were just a big masochist. you wouldn’t be surprised after all the time you had spent with five.

“i’m hungry,” you stated aloud to no one in particular. “you hungry, Delores?”

“...”

“five, we’re hungry,” you chimed, causing him to roll his eyes in slight annoyance at your whining. honestly, he sometimes thought of you as a big baby he had to take care of. a small being who needed constant care and attention otherwise they’d die. but for some reason, five always took care of you. always. if he wasn’t such a tough guy, he’d consider it to be love. but to five, it was a silent agreement the two of you had come to; he’d take care of you and you’d make things less lonely. to five, this was enough. there was no place for love in the apocalypse.

“what do you want?” he grumbled, continuing to pull the weight of you and Delores as well as your few belongings within the wagon.

“hmm... spaghetti!”

“why do you two insist on making things so difficult?” five huffed, stopping for a moment to scan his surroundings. “i think there used to be a super market a few blocks from where we’re standing. they might have something there.”

the super market, once known as john’s grocery, was nothing but rubble and broken building, but a good survivor always knew not to judge a book by its cover, which is why you and five managed to find some pretty good shit. it wasn’t spaghetti, of course, but a can of Pringle’s and beef jerky sandwiches was like heaven to your rumbling tummies.

while Five was busy evenly splitting the sandwich Delores had so graciously offered to the two of you, you rummaged through your bag and pulled out your find: a Polaroid only slightly damaged from the blast. it only took a minute for you to insert the film and a few seconds to snap a photo of an unsuspecting five concentrating on the precision of slicing the sandwich.

“what the hell was that?” he asked, looking up at you and scowling slightly at the sight of the camera. he hated pictures.

“i found it,” you grinned, snapping another photo.

“Jesus, enough with that,” five scolded, blinded temporarily by the glare. “you’re going to get us killed.”

“no one’s out here, you’re being paranoid,” you said dismissively, smiling at the developed film. “besides, look at how adorable you look!”

five merely rolled his eyes and took a bite of his jerky sandwich. you were too trusting of the world, too naive. believing that no one could touch you, that nothing could go wrong. it’s what had gotten you killed.

it all seemed to happen in slow motion, really. one minute you’re smiling, the next there’s a bullet in your chest and you’re struggling to breathe. the blood is oozing freely from the wound, dribbling down from your mouth as you fall back with wide eyes and a terrified face.

“y/n!” five yells, not recognizing his own voice as he quickly scoops you into his arms and desperately clutches you to his chest. “shit, shit, shit.”

“five?” you gurgle, and his eyes begin to well with tears.

“you’re going to be okay, you’re going to be fine,” five repeats over and over into your hair, and he’s not sure if this mantra is for him or for you.

he feels the warm liquid spreading in between your bodies, staining his jacket and seeping through your clothing. it’s so warm, it scares him, scares him as if it’s the first time he’s seen blood in his life.

he’ll never forget the strangled cry that left his mouth as he felt you slump against him, the sudden chill he got from the cold of your body. it was what kept him awake for several nights, what kept him going, what caused him to go rouge when he had learned of the commission’s true power, their true crimes. the blood on their hands, your blood on their hands. they’d pay.

~~~

“shit.”

after explaining what was basic science to his now much older siblings and coming up empty handed in his search for caffeine, five hardgreeves decided to take a drive. a scrawny thirteen year old driving a car would have been comical if not for the situation and stakes at hand.

griddy’s is the only place he can think of to go for a decent cup of coffee, and he hopes it’s still there. and it is. it’s comforting to know that some things have remained the same since his departure into the future with you..

it’s almost empty when he walks in, except for a truck driver at the front and a girl at the very back in her own booth. books are scattered around her, a clear sign of procrastination. she reminds him a lot of-

“Y/N?” five asks bewildered. you peek up at the sound of your name, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at the sight of a stranger asking for you.

“do i know you?” you ask and shrink back against the booth as he approaches quickly. this boy you’ve never met before may be cute, but he’s approaching like a mad man.

“y-you’re here, you’re alive!”

“last i checked,” you say with an uneasy laugh. “h-how do i know you?”

“it’s a long story, i’ll explain it as we go home,” he rushes, grabbing hold of your wrist that you quickly pull back.

“go back?? i-i don’t know you!” you sputter. he sighs annoyed, impatient. he knows it’s not your fault that you have no idea who he is, but he doesn’t have a lot of time to waste.

the bells over the door chime, and five is on alert immediately. he thought he’d have more time before they found him.

“listen, i know you don’t know me, but i need you to get under the table right now, okay? you’ll be safe.”

you didn’t have time to protest as he was shoving you under. but as you watched the next scene unfold in front of you, you were suddenly very grateful you had chosen the corner booth that night.