#thesilvertheorist

[thesilvertheorist]

• unprofessional •

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Fic summary: [set in s4] Five is forced to go into mandatory active therapy in order to ensure that he can perform well at the CIA, he finds himself opposite a young lady (21+ ish) who's taken him on as her first client. Five is resistant at first but soon begins to develop ALL kinds of feelings for this woman.

Warnings/tags: ptsd related traumas, flashbacks, self harm, self loathing, resistance to help, attitude, scandalous age gap (five is mentally 60+, body of a 21 year old), developing feelings, inappropriate relationship, unprofessional relationship, anguish, angst, sexually explicit content, mdni, stalker!five, reader should really contact the authorities in all honesty.

you have been warned

Masterlist

CHAPTER ONE

[3.7k words]

Hargreeves’ new world is certainly one of oddities. It’s almost identical to the world that Five and his siblings grew up in only, in this timeline, this version of his adoptive father owned essentially every active corporation all over the globe. A weird concept, but not one that is necessarily that farfetched. The basic premise of this timeline functioned exactly the same as all the others that Five knew: linear time (seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years, decade after tedious decade), people going about their daily lives (bills and taxes to pay), and – of course, there’s the ever-present need to create family and community. Although, and this is the kicker, he’s been stripped of his powers. Every Hargreeves’ sibling had been.

Five had presumed that the loss of their powers was the price of a new life… that Luther losing Sloane was the price that Allison paid by proxy to get Claire back. Screwed up, but it’s the most logical answer considering they were energetically glued to stars on the floor in a universal mainframe fighting for their lives not too long ago.

As his siblings dispersed upon realising the situation, Five was left alone yet again, wondering what the hell he was going to do with his vacant being and lack of powers. His skills aren’t exactly what you’d look for when employing someone. Not to mention that his appearance doesn’t match his intellect. He was nothing short of absolutely fucked.

This rather strange situation kept Five’s mind awake for days. What exactly had happened? Why were they all here? Is this timeline a result of shutting down the last one? Is there a way to regain their powers? Do people even want their powers back? Did he want them back? Would he be able to realise that this state of helpless humanity may actually be giving him a fresh start? Was he ignoring things? Was this stupidly self-aware diatribe of crap swirling around in his head actually ungrateful screams of a thirteen year old who couldn’t prove to his father that he’d fixed what he’d broken?

It didn’t matter.

Five knew that, realistically, he’d have to start somewhere. The first thing he needed to do was secure himself a steady roof. He had no idea who’d rent to him…considering he had no money and looked like he belonged in some sort of private school for privileged arsehole boys. Oh wait. Pesky self-awareness again.

Five realised that if he couldn’t beat them, he’d have to join them. The second daylight broke the next day, he worked on getting himself a place at the closest university; he looked about that age and any required proof of braincells proved to be child’s play for his overly adapted mind. This gave him an opportunity to have a bed to sleep in whilst also allowing him to keep his brain active – even if his assignments were the equivalent intensity of doing the sudoku in the paper each morning.

Needless to say, he earned his degree quickly. He’d also acquired numerous commendations from differing scholars and academics throughout his studies which earned him an interview at the CIA. Five rationalised that, whilst he wasn’t exactly police material, the CIA was more up his alley…more dignified for a man of his age.

His interview went as well as could have been expected and Five was hired almost immediately. He’d breezed through basic training, explaining to those who were curious that his combat skills were from too many extra-curricular clubs after school and totally not from anything sinister [like being born into a family of super siblings and fighting crime at thirteen only to then be accepted into a temporal commission decades later who put field agents through intense training to prepare them to kill threats to the timeline].

He was just good at what he did and was a quick learner.

Totally.

Five’s first few months with the CIA went as any other months would do. He managed to find himself a shitty apartment and keep up the rent with whatever money he didn’t spend on outrageously expensive suits or artisan coffee. He wasn’t doing badly at all – he was even up for a promotion.

With things going so well, it came as a surprise to Five when his new supervisor insisted that he attend mandatory therapy as part of his new role within the company. He’d been advised that all higher agents have to do this – keeps them from boiling over. Five wasn’t really listening though; it was as if water had filled his ears. The last time he’d heard this bullshit was back at The Commission… only there, they forced agents into therapy to ensure they were boiling over – that their intent to kill was still active inside them.

After trying to reason with his supervisor, Five was told in no uncertain terms that he either attended the therapy or go back to his entry level basic training so he understood what ‘following orders’ meant. Pissed off and undermined, Five only nodded in response. He noted down when his appointment was: 8am Monday, 7th floor, office C.

When Monday came around, Five was more irritated than he thought he’d be. He had no clue what bullshit this, so called, therapist would come out with – and in all honesty, he wished that all therapists would just keep their traps shut. Now that would be therapeutic.

Upon arriving to work that day, Five decided that coffee was the best solution. He’d be able to respond quicker with his brain activated, and he’d be able to leave that office sooner. Perfect plan. Whilst waiting in line at the downstairs café to order his take away cup of gravelly black coffee, he couldn’t help but notice the woman in front of him.

She was young – she’d have to be a university graduate. She was well dressed in smart office kitten heels, sheer tights, a sophisticated pencil skirt, and a fitted blouse. Her hair was pinned in a claw-clip bun but she must have been in a hurry this morning because pieces had fallen out and were giving her that chic yet windswept look that only a few people could truly pull off.

As she ordered her coffee – a ‘mocha with a little bite to it’, Five noticed that the woman wasn’t carrying anything (other than the precise amount of cash to pay with) – nor did she have a blazer or jacket with her. Who the hell comes to the offices prior to 8am and sets up before getting their coffee? This woman was weird. Her chirpy voice and polite manners weren’t going to fool him.

Why the fuck did he even care?

He didn’t know this woman, nor did she know him. What she looked like, sounded like, or acted like was none of his business. He’d got a stupid therapist to see. This young woman was just another number in a pitiful equation that he no longer had the energy to solve. He tried to ignore her as she waited aside for her coffee to be made, pretending not to catch glimpses of her as she looked up at the hot food menu of the café to pass time whilst he ordered his own cup of drip black coffee.

Both drinks were prepared at precisely the same time. The young woman smiled at the barista as she collected the warm cup, turning on her heels to head towards the lifts. Without thinking much about it at all, Five followed her over after collecting his own coffee – trailing behind her as if he were some sort of lost puppy (or ravenous hound dog) as she crossed the foyer, offering her a curt smile when she summoned the lift.

Silence.

The woman was looking at her watch when the lift arrived. The ding of the bell alerting her to the fact that it was here. Five gestured for her to enter first – after all, he’s kinda got a weird thing about lifts now since the whole universe reset bullshit. He won’t enter one that doesn’t have another person in it…must be a newfound claustrophobia symptom. Perhaps it might be worth seeing a therapist. The woman entered and stood aside to let Five in also, shattering the silence with two ground-breaking, reality-altering, mind-bending words:

“Which floor?”

Five was deafened.

He was sure that his brain had malfunctioned. He hadn’t actually been deafened but he needed her to stop talking and yet never stop speaking all at once. Her voice was like velvet…Five hated the feeling velvet – but loved the way it warmed his skin. He needed to respond quickly before she thought he was weird; her smile would fade and he’d be deemed the office creep for following  a young woman from the café into the lift and then seemingly drooling over the only two words she deigned to utter to him throughout the last ten minutes.

“Oh, er- seven, thanks” he managed to force out.

“Cool, me too” the young woman smiled out in response to him.

This meant that Five had to endure seven floors of close proximity to this woman – standing so close to her that he feel he may actually happily suffocate from her perfume, pretending all the more that the sound of her honey-like chirps hadn’t done something to him.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

One.

She held her coffee in her left hand – no ring, red nails.

Two.

She wore a silver watch on that same hand – written in roman numerals the time was 7:50am

Three.

She had cuffed her blouse sleeves – ¾ length, likely to see her watch.

Four.

Her skirt had a hidden seam – she’d had it altered to fit better.

Five.

Her hair was falling out of the clip – he wanted to be the one to fix it.

Six.

She wore necklaces – silver and layered to match her watch.

Seven.

She was intoxicating.

The lift bell dinged again, signalling to each of them that they had reached the seventh floor. Five felt the air return to his lungs as the young woman stepped out of the enclosed space and walk a few paces ahead, only to have it ripped from him yet again when he realised they were heading in the same direction…

down the same hallway…

to the same office…

office C.

Shit.

Five was all but paralysed, stood eight feet from her office door as she opened it and stepped inside, leaving it open for her next psychological plaything to enter. She hadn’t noticed that he was her client yet. Surely she hadn’t. She wouldn’t have had the time to; hundreds of people worked in this building.

She proceeded to sit in one of the chairs that surrounded the dark, wooden coffee table within the small box-office - crossing her legs as she rested her notebook and pen in her lap. Reading. Learning. Waiting.

Five was left wondering if his brain had actually malfunctioned in that lift; he couldn’t seem to move his feet in either direction. If he backed away now, he wouldn’t be allowed the promotion and would be forced back into basic training. On the other hand, if he walked in that office, he was in the trap of a much younger (much too innocent looking) young woman who had no idea what she was dealing with. It was all well and good for her to prepare the snare, but what if she began to realise she’d caught a wolf as opposed to a rabbit?

Perhaps he could pretend to be a rabbit.

Perhaps…he wanted to be a rabbit.

He walked up to the threshold of the door, knuckles tapping the doorframe, breaking her from her surely feigned concentration. Five didn’t expect the reaction he had to seeing her face for the first time, seeing how her eyes met his, feeling locked in under her gaze. Feeling himself want to spill his secrets to her. He was about to be examined and read to filth and he knew it.

What remained to be seen was whether or not he liked it.

The young woman waited for him to speak, angling herself so that she was ever so casually inviting. She didn’t press him to say anything or even break the eye contact…she just waited. Five was well aware that this was the first trick in any newly-trained therapist’s handbook, but he swallowed thickly and knowingly fell for it anyway.

That promotion had to be worth it.

“I’ve got an eight am appointment in this office.” he managed to chortle out, clearing his throat as not to sound like he chain-smoked two packs of cigarettes on the commute alone.

“You’re early, Mr Hargreeves,”

Her words rang in his ears as she spoke. How did she know his name? Oh, right, therapist – list of appointments, names, times, job roles… fucking idiot.

Five couldn’t move a single inch forwards…or backwards…or anywhere for that matter. He was well and truly pinned down by this woman, and she’d said a total of six words to him so far. He didn’t feel at liberty to move closer to her or invade her office until she specified that he could. Maybe this was his old chivalry training kicking in that Reggie had forced him and his siblings through back in the day. Surely he was just being courteous and kind in the presence of a lady.

Oh, how he wanted to be anything but kind to in the presence of this lady.

“Well, take a seat.”

Five’s feet moved before he even realised they were moving. He didn’t rush over, but he didn’t waste any time either, shutting the door promptly behind him. He sat in the chair across from the young woman, positioning his coffee cup on the small table between them – mirroring her.

He noticed how she watched him closely but also rather nonchalantly, never for one second allowing him the grace of considering that this may be just as nerve wracking and heart attack inducing for her. She remained collected at all times; Five Hargreeves would not be beaten by a woman a third of his age.

“So, Mr Hargreeves, why is it that you’re here?” she questioned, opening a fresh page in her notebook, scribbling a singular word at the top of the page.

What the hell kind of bullshit question is that?

“Well, as much as I love the company of over-confident psychoanalysts, I’m sure you’re aware I’m here on a mandatory basis.” He managed to bite back in response, feeling as though he gained ground back with his viper-like tongue.

“Straight to the point I see. Well, let’s not waste any of your precious time, Mr Hargreeves.” She smiled back in response. Smiled – like some crazy, lunatic bitch.

“Please, Mr Hargreeves is my father” Five spoke out, discomfort increasing every time she chose to address him that way.

Perfect idea, Five - throw your daddy issues into the mix right off the bat - advertise the crazy.

She scribbled a little more, three words this time.

“Five it is.”

Five felt shivers travel down his spine. Her actually using his name felt a million times more invasive and a trillion times less appropriate…and he’d removed that first professional barrier himself. He’d been in her presence for less than twenty minutes and already wanted to kill himself as a sacrifice to whatever deity was torturing him with her.

The next few questions she had were rather basic, ‘tell me more about yourself so I can profile you’ questions. This told Five all he needed to know. She was new to this…she didn’t really have a clue what she was in for, and she was likely handed him as an easy case – but, damn, did she play a good game of poker.

Answering her questions, he noticed how she picked up her coffee and removed the lid from the to go cup. Wondering why, he missed her next question. Why would she have removed that? It keeps the coffee warm. It didn’t make much sense at all. Was she purposefully trying to throw him? How did she know that would throw him?

It took Five until after intently watching her sip her ‘mocha with a lil bite to it’ to realise that she was wearing lipstick…and she would have left messy lip prints all over that lid if she hadn’t removed it.

He wanted to see that lip print.

He wanted to wear that lip print.

He was losing his mind.

She must have noticed that he missed her question as she repeated it to him, making him look like an idiot in the process. He answered as best he could – ignoring the blood rushing from his brain to somewhere else entirely.

This was fucking him off – her hold on him. She didn’t even know him. How the hell had he let such a pathetic woman claim this much control over him? He didn’t know much other than: this situation is forced, unnecessary, and ridiculous. As well as: he’s much smarter than her and she needs to know that.

Five’s answers began to get shorter, snappier, and ruder as the appointment went on. He drank his coffee and steeled his mind over, not allowing this girl to contain him any longer. He ignored his body’s signals and focused only on getting out of this office. All he had to do was prove that he wasn’t some weird psychopath or stupid enough to fall into a mental spiral…therefore, all he had to do was pretend that he wasn’t pumped full of criminal DNA to ensure he did spiral.

He tried to project his anger into his words, feeling as if he could replace the barriers he’d begun to dismantle with a harsh, reliable distain for the people around him. It worked for everyone else, and it would work on this woman.

Only, it didn’t.

She dropped the corporate questioning the second she noticed the change in him, opting for a deeper – more infuriating approach. She tore strips into him as she politely asked him to watch his language in her office space. She pulled him up on every wall-building tactic he had…and he apologised for them. Not with his words; she hadn’t earned that – with his eyes.

He actually felt bad for trying to build walls between the two of them, and he’d known her a total of fifty minutes. She was right to pull him up on his behaviour. She didn’t back down from him once; completely reinforcing the fact that this was her office, and her appointment. He was a visitor. How fucking dare he?

Astounded by himself, Five had nothing more to say to this woman. He was absolutely, well and truly, entirely done for. He only hoped that he’d passed her initial inspection of his mind as not to be pulled by the sacred force of her gravity back into the four walls of this office where he couldn’t control his behaviour around her…but he didn’t.

The young woman set up a weekly appointment for him. Same time, same place; she didn’t feel as though he was ready to progress without support. So, as she signed his papers for him to enter his promotional role, she issued her warning:

“Don’t underestimate the will of others, Five.”

With that, she had him shaking her hand, and stepping out of her office – taking his empty coffee cup with him.

What, the fuck, had she done to him?

As he walked back down the corridor and summoned the lift to go to the 10th floor to see his supervisor, Five was left clutching at his empty coffee cup for dear life. Feeling like a doe that had a near miss with a haul truck. That young woman had just turned him inside out, deemed him insufficient, and asked him to leave…and he was pissed. she'd given him absolutely nothing, and yet allowed him the opportunity to experience everything.

He hated this woman. She was entitled, bossy, and thought she knew everything. She was young and overly caring about her appearance. She clearly had no idea what he was or who he was – nor did she seem to care. She had absolutely no fear. She was ignorant and arrogant. She didn’t have what it takes to do this job. She was infuriating. Her hold on him was a sham and obviously sexually fuelled. Clearly, she hadn’t been in the therapy business for long because otherwise, Five wouldn’t know this stuff about her.

Yet, there was a stirring in his stomach, something primal.

He couldn’t wait for her to do this to him again.

Once he’d handed in his papers, and handed over his old job role, Five was dismissed for the day. He headed straight home, feeling as though the subway couldn’t take him quick enough. His body was tense and his temper was short. Dropping his keys upon trying to get into his apartment was the perfect sum up to his day.

Finally letting himself in, not bothering to switch on the lights or get himself any food, he stripped off and headed immediately for the shower. He set the temperature to a skin-peeling high and stepped inside, letting the steam transport him back to her office.

He took his left hand, the one that she shook earlier today, and roughly took his hard length in hand. He’d been hard on and off since this morning. Any time she crossed his mind, Five was battling with his own blood flow.

He cursed out as he roughly brought himself to a pained climax – believing that the pain would train him into hating this woman…but all he could hear was her honey-toned voice in his ear telling him to let her handle him as if she were stood behind him taking him in hand herself. He could feel her whispy fly-aways tickle his neck as her breasts pushed into his back. That’s when he felt her lips graze his shoulder, leaving those sultry lip prints that he’d dreamt about since realising she wore lipstick.

His cum was hot in his hand and coated the shower wall.

Fuck.

He was a mess for this woman…a storm of feelings, a shitshow of poor behaviour, and a sexual wreck for anything she could give him.

Next week couldn’t come quick enough; and neither could he.

✦ okay so i'm sorry this took so long for such a short chapter - i got ill :(( hope you enjoy it anyway, more coming soon. this is my first real tumblr fic so pls be kind ✦

✦ the truly diabolical content is to come, let Five have a minute of rest before being mindfucked again :)) ✦

taglist for this fic below: (lmk if you'd like to be added or removed ♡)

@groovydazephantom @girls-overflower @clownstillwritesfanfic @diaryoftheodosia @vroomvroomgirl @kaybreezy3000 @badkitty3000

[thesilvertheorist]

• Simp!Carl drabble •

Masterlist

carl grimes is a simp confirmed

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

Okay so I feel like carl is always super attentive to you, he never lets you go without – even in times of extreme hardship in the group. He’ll always give you the bigger share of snacks he finds, running over to find you when he finds an untouched chocolate bar that the two of you can split then and there, your little ritual when on runs. He’ll offer you that infectious smile of his and turn what was supposed to be a serious supply run into a giggle fest that has you thanking your stars you have him.

I feel like Carl’s default ways to show his love are through acts of service and physical affection. He’s constantly handling things for you, without you asking. He’ll clean the mud and mulch off your boots, fold your laundry, peel and cut fruit up for you (in a wonky fashion), he’ll clean your weapons – taking extra care to get into the crevices and mechanisms (regardless of struggling with a slightly [unintentional] heavy hand). He wants to spend his time making your life easier.

He always keeps his eye out for you when on runs, picking up things he knows you can use. He knows how much you value having a shower, especially after being covered in walker blood or muck more often than not. He’ll search for toiletries and shampoos for you (hoping you’ll invite him to shower with you so he can share the products and smell like you).

I know that Carl adores physical touch. When the two of you were younger, you’d hook your pinky fingers together before progressing to holding hands – a silent promise to stay close and stay alive. He’ll nudge you for love all the time, prompting you with his own. He’s definitely all for distracting you with kisses so that you break concentration and shower him with love. He loves to be in your space and definitely likes to be close enough to whisper stupid inside jokes to you, jumping on any available opportunity to make you laugh.

He likes to keep the details of your relationship mostly private (excluding Michonne), but is hellbent on solidifying to anyone and everyone that he’s yours and you’re his. He’s not particularly possessive, but he is jealous – in the ‘they don’t deserve to lay eyes on you’ way. He gets pissed when he sees other people looking at you with intent, and he is not quiet or reserved about those feelings.

Carl loves to think of himself as yours, he’ll do anything you ask of him first time:

“Carl, sweetheart, can you open this for me?” you’d ask your boyfriend who was sat at the kitchen table, feeding Judith some apple slices. “Do you even need to ask?” he’d smile back over to you, taking the jar from your hands. [Carl would struggle to open the jar but pretend as if he were joking, the second you turned your back he’d give the lid a quick tap on the counter and open it up immediately afterwards – pretending that he had it open all along] [Carl, presenting you with a now opened jar, proud smirk on his face] “Here” “Thank you, pretty boy” you’d reply, refusing to admit that you’d already had that jar opened and closed it again to let this scene play out.

[3am, stormy night in Alexandria] “Carl,” you’d nudge your boyfriend, checking to see if he’s awake. “Mm?” he’d respond all groggy, still half asleep. “I think I left my boots on the porch,” you’d begin, unable to finish your sentence because Carl had already kissed you on the forehead and gone downstairs to bring your boots inside. [Carl, coming back into bed, wet through] “Don’t worry about it, angel, I’ve sorted it”

You’d come back home for your break between a double shift on watch and accidentally fall asleep on the sofa after placing your weapons on the coffee table in front of you. You’d wake up after hearing small rumblings and clicks, wondering what on earth could be going on, you’d reach for your gun which��isn’t there. You’d look around before noticing Carl sat in the armchair to the side of you, cleaning your gun with an immense amount of concentration. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you” he’d whisper, concentration broken. “No no, I’m glad you’re here,” you assure, readjusting to get comfortable, “I can finish that up if you’re busy.” [Wounded puppy Carl, softly] “But...I like doing this for you…” “I like when you do too, carry on, pretty boy.”

Carl is eagerly desperate for any attention that you’ll give him. He hates when your thoughts don’t involve him, he wants to be the object of your affection all the time. He adores you, he wants to be the source of your happiness, to be the one to make your life worth living – just as you have done for him. Essentially, I’m definitely of the opinion that he feels equally indebted to and enamoured with you as he’s forever grateful for the time you share with him. He thinks of you as the person who brought him back from the worst place imaginable, the only one who could, his angel – his lifeline.

⛧─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───⛧

and that's on carl being raised right - ty aunt carol and aunt maggie

[thesilvertheorist]

• headcannons 1 (fluff) •

fluffy headcannons about our favourite boy, because he's soft and deserves the world

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✦ carl is huge on 'private but not secret', he likes keeping the special parts of your relationship between the two of you - he hates when people try to intrude (unless its Michonne, who he'll just smile and yap to about how strong and pretty you are)

✦ this however, does not apply to when carl is jealous - he'll be more forward with the pda if he thinks there's someone eyeing you up - he'll put his hand on your waist and pull you close or make sure he's holding your hand in view of the suspicious person, he'll kiss you loads in a short space of time, just loving up on you until the person leaves.

✦ his affection towards you is ALWAYS outward if you two are alone, his hands and lips barely ever leave you. he'll get so invested in you that he physically cannot comprehend anything but you.

✦ its obvious that carl likes his hair being played with, he loves it when you mess with the long strands and twirl them around your fingers, he'll never admit it but he loves it when you leave small, loose braids at the base of his neck. he loves it when you sweep his fringe from his face in the warmer weather.

✦ he also loves it when you wash his hair for him, he swears it always feels cleaner than when he does it himself. he enjoys the feeling of your hands working over his scalp, feeling his frustrations wash away with the suds.

✦ carl will alert you with his hat - if you're speaking in a group with the others and he needs some love from you or wants your attention, he'll take his hat off and put it on your head, knowing you'll come find him to return it.

✦ similarly - now he's taken to tending the crops in alexandria - he uses you as a hat stand for when he needs to lean over.

✦ in the summer, he uses his hat to fan the two of you (mostly you) to keep you both cool.

✦ he wants you to wear his flannels around town, he leaves them out for you to take.

✦ he didn't have a favourite colour until you were trying to guess and shouted out 'green!' - his favourite colour is now green, the forest kind not the neon kind.

✦ he thinks you're stronger than he is, emotionally and physically, and always comes to you for support. one time he walked up to you whilst you were on watch and didn't say a word, just rested his head on you and let you shelter him, let you lend him your strength for a few minutes. he knows you'll always be there for him, he doesn't need to ask.

✦ he gives you the first half of any snack he finds, always breaking it so you get the bigger piece.

✦ he adores how much judith loves you, he feels secure when she's in your hands.

✦ he asks if you'll treat the callouses on his hands - and of course you do. you sit him down and give his hands the love they deserve while he watches you lovingly.

✦ he's not afraid to cry in front of you - he won't cry in front of anyone else. only you. his safe space.

✦ he likes it when you spoon him in bed, loves to feel wrapped up by you.

✦ he'll read comics with you outside the walls - laying his head on your lap to do so, he says it 'helps him relax'.

[thesilvertheorist]

• fluff drabble - first relationship •

kicking my feet rn, he's so sweet

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

okay so [other than delores] five has never had a relationship [fivela get lost - you don't exist to me], he's never held another person, felt romantic love, he's never felt wanted purely because he's him. five is constantly believing that if he's not of use, no one will want him - which leads him to being SO confused when you show interest in him. i feel like you show interest over him simply existing, standing there, occupying space and he...well he doesn't compute that at first. he thought that maybe you were pulling a joke on him considering his actual age or trying to kill him in some way [five, sweetie, your trauma is showing], so he never really let himself believe your feelings to be real. he knows he's too fucked up for anyone to ever want him, he's well aware that he'd ruin any romantic relationship he ever tried with his outrageous amount of emotional baggage.

although, i feel like after you're nice to him and calm around him for a consistent amount of time, he'd start to smile back at you and accept your offer to get coffee together, he'd wonder which of his suits he should wear and be at the meet-up location fifteen minutes early to make sure he didn't miss you. he'd have spoken to klaus about what he should do to impress you and klaus would give him some, mostly useless, but simple advice on date 'procedure', he'd shyly hold the door open for you, compliment your outfit, pay for your coffee. you'd both speak about weird families and how much you hate the traditional nuclear household idea. he'd laugh about the hypocrisy of most men and wonder how the hell you're sat here with him and not whisked away in some loveless marriage by now. he thanks his stars that no one has snapped you up sooner.

after a few more dates, he'd loosen up a little and start cracking jokes. he'd bring you books on your wishlist and snark at anyone who said anything bad against you. he'd definetly know your coffee order by heart and bring it to you whenever he could, never giving you a chance to pay for his. he'd stare at you longingly whilst you ranted about stupid things and cussed people out for their idiocy. you'd crack one [awful but brilliantly timed] joke and he wouldn't be able to stop the choked laughter that escaped his throat, fighting back tears as he caught his breath. obviously his laughter is contagious and you joined in. he's not laughed in so long...and you'd just had him in stitches - and you'd done it so effortlessly.

he'd want you in his life for however long he had left breathing. so, when he went back to klaus and asked him [rather sheepishly] the best way to ask you to be his...klaus nearly died then and there, celebrating in the fact that his brother had found someone to look after him, to love him. five would internalise everything that klaus said, ignoring the sleazy stuff, and made getting you to be with him as his ultimate goal. and when five puts his mind to something, boy does he deliver. he'd invite you to dinner at a small spot he knew, fancy but not snobbish, he'd speak with the staff beforehand and arrange for there to be candles and petals at your table. relishing in the fact that there were nice places he could take you.

dinner would go well [as it always did] and he'd walk yu home, giving you his jacket like they do in the movies, suggesting in a lovingly sarcastic tone that you should have brought your own. the two of you would take a shortcut through a park to get to your house, and whilst there was a moment of quiet between the two of you, five would stop walking and take your hand gently, he'd look at your intertwined hands and then up to you, asking if you'd have him.

[hands intertwined, chilly breeze, you in five's jacket] "hey, hang on a sec," he'd start as he took your hand in his own, "i wanted to ask you something..." "what's on your mind, five?" you'd respond, not knowing what he was going to ask you - could have been if you knew what the best toaster was to buy or if you knew how to give someone a punctured lung - you never knew with him. "you don't have to say yes, before i start...just let me know if i've put hope in the wrong place so i can carry on with my life-" "five, i-" "i really need to ask if you'll have me and i cant do that if you keep interrupting me" he'd blurt out after an exasperated sigh. "you don't have to ask," you'd begin, stepping closer to him, feeling him tense up at match your gaze with an agonising, longing look - scared to death you might break his heart that he's only just found. the one he owes to you, "i'll have you for as long as you want me to". you'd close the gap between you and press your lips to his, feeling him get taken by surprise and then relax into the moment as he realises what you're doing. he'd kiss you back...his heartache, passion, and inexperience channelling through the kiss. you'd break for air, and rest your forehead against his, wondering what was going on in that beautiful mind of his, sharing an emotionally intimate moment together, breathing each other's air, feeling excess body heat. "so," five would whisper to you, "this means you'll be my permanent coffee date then?" he'd smile out. "for as long as you'll have me".

five's inexperience in romance would be obvious, you'd have to teach him a lot - but he's a QUICK learner. you'd teach him how to kiss, how to cuddle up for warmth, the best way to sleep in the same bed without hogging blankets or space. he'd be an eagerly active participant throughout every lesson and return the sentiment tenfold the next time around. he would be shy but once he knew how you like to be loved, he'd be all over it - and you. [he's actually a hopeless romantic - emphasis on the hopeless]

[thesilvertheorist]

✦ coming soon! ✦

✦ new fic alert: a trilogy chapter fic of our favourite time-travelling little weirdo. see below for tags and details ♡ ✦

[thesilvertheorist]

• tangled up •

Carl Grimes x gn!reader

plot: [fluff] you're sat listening to music, he ends up getting tangled up in your headphones.

tags: fluff, sfw, established relationship, happiness (eee), alexandria era, pre n*gan, post eye-loss <3

word count: 1182

Masterlist

You finally had a day off. No duties to see to, responsibilities to handle, babysitting to oversee…a rare privilege for you as of late. Rick and the council had been pushing you and the others hard, even Carl was being pushed to his limits with the workload – and that’s saying something. Needless to say, this small break in your schedule was a glimmer of hope among the pile of dogshit that was the overarching task of securing Alexandria’s perimeter and ensuring the self-sufficiency of the community.

Frustrated that you’d woken up as per your stupidly-set body clock as opposed to enjoying a nice lay in, you followed your morning routine as you usually would: quick shower, dental hygiene, combing the knots out of your hair so it dries as you like it. Puzzled as what to do with your newfound spare time, you searched your brain for ideas.

You could re-read all of your comics and books…not really as enticing the seventh time around. You could see if Carol would finally teach you her ‘three ingredient cookie’ recipe…hmmm no – cooking on a warm day like today sounded like hell. What about updating your shabby journal…eh, that could wait a few days more – what were you going to write? ‘I have a day off and I don’t know what to do with it.’… hardly introspective or poetic, definitely authentic though.

That’s when your brain lit a spark: CDs!

Whilst out on runs over the years, you made a point of collecting interesting CDs that people had left behind. In one house, you even found a portable CD player – one of the handheld ones with a headphone jack and crunchy small speakers. You were eternally grateful when Daryl found some earphones for you when raiding an old store, unopened and everything!

Your CD collection had grown over the years, you treasure them almost as much as you treasure having water in the summer or firewood in the winter. Ranging all the way from pop music (mostly Beyonce, Alicia Keys, Shakira) to rap (Eminem and 50 cent) to heavy rock (Blink-182, Green Day, The Killers), (you even have a Nirvana CD) and your absolute favourite – ‘Favourite Worst Nightmare’ by the Arctic Monkeys, a super rare find around this part of the country! They’re your prized possessions, these albums. Finally, something to do on your time off.

Content with your idea on today’s activity, you collect your CDs, the player, and your earphones and head out of the door towards your favourite tree in town. It provides the perfect amount of shade for you to sit there comfortably all day without getting burned but enough dappled light for you to feel the warm sun on your skin.

On your way over, you spot Carl – your boyfriend, walking towards you. How has Rick not caught him slacking off? Still, you walk over to him, unable to wave as your hands are full of music.

“Where’re you goin��?” he asks inquisitively, a small yet familiar smile creeping across his lips.

“Some of us have the day off,” you say gesturing (rather haphazardly) to yourself, “and we want to spend it under our favourite tree”.

“Hmm, well, lucky for some” your boyfriend retorts, rolling his eye at you, putting his hands in his pockets.

You kiss your boyfriend on the cheek before walking past him and towards your spot. Wondering how long it’ll take Rick to realise that Carl is missing, you make your way onto the grass and over to your tree – planting yourself down under it pondering if you too, could take root here.

You bask in the warm air as It breezes past you gently, taking in the smells of summer. Allowing music to fill your ears, you let yourself close your eyes, grounding yourself with the familiar feeling of the grass under your hands and the tree bark against your back. Relaxing, at last.

Time passes in a weird warp as you sit there, songs repeat as you refuse to bring yourself to change the CD whirling around in the player on your lap. You’ve absolutely no clue what time it is, nor do you really care all that much. That is until you feel someone’s footsteps vibrate the ground ever so slightly under you, feel the air change in your environment as the breeze carrying itself across you is blocked. Looking up reluctantly and rather offended, your eyes focus in on your boyfriend stood over you, smiling down at you.

“Hey sleepyhead, relaxed enough yet?” he laughs out as his hand meets the top of your head.

“You’re lucky you’re you and not anyone else, I hate people interrupting these songs” you smile back to him, taking out your earphones to hear him better.

Carl sits down next to you, placing his hat to one side yet still within reach in case the steady breeze drops, and allows himself to see what you see, to feel what you’re feeling, to ground in the way that you’re grounding. After taking a moment, he turns to you and looks through the CDs at your side, asking you if he can listen to one along with you. You gently accept and allow him to pick the next track – something you’d never allow anyone else to do.

He reaches for your earphones, finding them a little tangled up as the two of you have been reaching across one another ever since he sat down. He tries his best to undo the small knot in the wires, getting overly frustrated when he can’t – handing them over to you for help as he rests his head on your shoulder. Getting a little pouty when you undo the mess of wires almost immediately, he leans further into you as you both take an earphone each, letting the track play.

A few songs in, you feel him shift against you, noticing him place a kiss on your cheek in the same way you’d done to him earlier in the day. You turn your head to kiss him back as the music plays in your ear, feeling as though the world consists of just you and Carl in a small, musical bubble. The two of you kiss again and again and you reach to put your hand on the back of Carl’s neck, accidentally tangling the earphone wires yet again. Uncaring, you continue to feel this moment for what it is: perfect.

You and your boyfriend share laughs over the re-tangled wires, sharing smiley kisses with one another as your hands argue through fixing the knots. The remainder of your afternoon is spent with your boyfriend under this tree. He even falls asleep on your shoulder as music rings softly in his ear. Neither of you even notice when Rick storms over looking for Carl (who seemingly didn’t tell his dad that he was taking a break), but – in true Rick fashion – he takes one look at the sight of you two relaxed under that tree, that he gives you until the sun starts to dip in the sky before allowing anyone to bother the two of you.

[thesilvertheorist]

• nsfw drabble - first time •

REQUEST: anon asked -

"five hargreeves first time hc/drabbles? 🥹"

warnings/tags: mdni (this is a smut drabble!), five's body and mind are 18+ here (don't be creepy), virgin!five, fivexfem!reader (lmk if people want a masc!reader ver.), PiV sex, unprotected sex (do as I say and not as I write - use protection!)

Masterlist

enjoy?? teehee - i'm open to doing another version of this, more like a fic, hmu for details

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

okay so, five is obviously VERY timid when it comes to romance and intimacy on all levels... he just doesn't know what to do, like at all. he's just so clueless. he's spent years working for the commission, visiting sleazy places just to kill people who obstructed the timeline corrections. he never really knew what to make of knowing people were 'boning'. he usually gets utterly disgusted by the thought of sex - not realising that he just didn't understand what it meant if it were to happen with a partner he actually trusted to look after him...a partner he trusted to treat the delicate parts of him with care...to treat his soul with care. so when you came into his life, and your relationship began to progress, he was pleasantly surprised that the thought of sex no longer disgusted him - but ONLY if his thoughts were focused on having sex with you. he's uninterested in other people at the best of times - its obvious he's a devoted partner in all aspects.

the two of you would have had conversations about sex before, elaborating more about when it felt like the right time and when you would feel comfortable taking that extra step. five is meticulous about everything, he ensures to never overstep a single boundary of yours, not even once; just as you'd never overstep one of his. he is so deeply emotional about the fact that you treat him with respect and listen to what he's telling you. he shows that respect back a trillion times over. this, however, does not mitigate the natural progression of a human relationship. you two have hormones and urges which need answering.

the two of you will be sharing an emotionally intimate moment, holding each other and relishing in the comfort that the other brings. you'll feel five relax underneath your touch and really let that harsh outer persona drop. you bring him in for a kiss, a loving one, one that expresses deep feelings of devotion and adoration. over the course of your relationship with five, he's learned so much about how to love up on you. his once inexperienced kisses are now exactly what you need from him. his once tentatively shy hands are now planted firmly on your waist, funning themselves over your hips and up into your hair. five never really thought he'd need more than this from you...but something in him has shifted and today - he needs it.

you'd urge five to get comfortable, knowing that this is going to be much better unrushed and truly appreciated. he'd lay next to you, feeling you pull him back in for another kiss, and then another one...and another. this moment would progress until you're both left gasping for air. you'd both just explore each other with an overwhelming feeling of love, almost tearjerkingly. you'd touch him as if he were made of glass - as if he'd shatter beneath you, because he feels like he just might. every touch you give him sends shivers up his spine and blood away from his brain. he's so delicate. you'd break apart from him to caress his face, fix his hair, and lock his gaze. whilst looking at him you'd see everything he is: insecurity, obscurity, and immense bravery. he'd searching your eyes for what comes next. as he's so friggin out of his depth when it comes to anything physical...or emotional for that matter. you'd assure him that he's safe with you, peppering kisses on his face as you whisper your affirming sweet nothings over to him, feeling him begin to relax again.

five would have no idea what's next. obviously he knows the basic principles of sexual interaction...but never had he put thought into the logistics. before he could spite himself at the gross oversight, you'd interrupt his train (wreck) of thought by asking him if he wanted to keep going. he'd be completely taken aback by your question - so confused by it. had he made you feel like he didn't want to continue?? you'd see the panic start to set in and reassure him that you're asking for his sake and not yours, affirming to him that he has the option to say no. and that'd be when you clocked them...tears. five wouldn't be able to stop them, hell he wouldn't even know they were happening. he would just be so damn emotional about someone actually (wholeheartedly) giving a shit about him - enough so to give him the option to say no [five does not realise that this is the bare minimum as he's never felt love...okay carrying on], enough to ask him how HE felt.

he'd basically fall to pieces into your arms and babble endlessly about his love for you and how he wants to take this step with you - and only you. he'd want you to take care of him. you'd take his hand in yours as you began to trace down his body, removing clothing as you went, five slipping back into his shy little shell that he knows all too well. i feel like he'd need you to watch him intently to pull him back out when this happened - showering him with kisses on the places on his body he doesn't like (which is basically everywhere because he has immense dysmorphia). he'd return the favour for you, removing your clothes and instead covering you in his words of devotion and love. that's when you'd notice his inexperience come back to him. he'd have no idea on where to touch you - no clue on how to make you feel good... but you'd take his hand and (quite literally) show him.

you'd lead his hands to where you felt best - feeling his hands brush against your breasts to feel across your nipples (his mouth would water at how soft you felt and how delectable you were), you'd lead him down to your core, giving him access to your wet heat. he'd lose it when he touched you there, dropping his face into the crevice of your neck. the feeling of your slick, the warmth of your cunt...it would all overcome him and he'd endlessly run his fingers up and down your folds, committing the sensation to memory whilst also losing his brain entirely. this is where he'd need you to step in, to take the lead for this one. he's so used to having to be in complete control all the time...he'd need you to control this for him - to tell him how this is meant to go - to make sure he knew he didn't need to think through this...to let him be authentically himself.

i feel like he'd want you to cover him, he'd be on the bottom whilst you made yourself comfortable on top of him, making sure to drown him in affection as you both adjusted to the feeling of being like this with each other. five would be putty in your hands, letting you love him wherever you needed to, whenever you needed to. he'd gasp when you took his cock into your hands, stroking it gently, milking the precum from him. he'd curse his body for the eagerness of his reaction - feeling as though he may end this before he'd even got chance to start it. he'd want this to last for as long as humanly possible... he'd whine out incoherent whines of desperation as you swipe his tip across your folds, gathering letting your wetness drip down him, preparing him to enter you. he'd throw his head back when you would tease his tip at your entrance, circling it, threatening to enter and then pulling away. he'd grab at you, needing to ground himself from being sent sky high with the blood rushing through his veins.

you'd look him in the eyes as you took his hand in your own, finally allowing his tip to enter you. and he would fall to fucking pieces. he'd not break your gaze for a single second, but his mouth would be slack-jawed and he'd have no words - the only sound coming out of him would be a silent scream of pleasure at the feeling of you encasing him. you'd slide onto him slowly, letting both you and him adjust to the sensation of being joined in the closest place imaginable. once fully seated, you'd allow five to break your gaze and his head would loll back, falling limp as his breath hitched and his cock twitched inside you. you'd had an inkling that this meant that he wouldn't last long. hell, he'd have been holding it for ages already, forcing himself to hang on for this specific moment, a moment that pleased you both...a moment that pleased you.

you'd rise up slowly and feel him panic when he thinks his dick is about to fall out of you, seeing the terror in his eyes as his head snapped back up - relieved and yet astounded when you'd drop your hips back down and take him back into your cunt again. you'd see his eyebrows crease and his eyes screw shut, notice how his ribs flare and his his breath would hitch with every movement you'd make. you decide to let him feel it, to lead him through it, to let him finish.

[five beneath you, quivering with pleasure] "hhaaaah, don- don't know if i can-" "okay, five, it's okay. i've got you," you'd assure to him once again, squeezing his hand that you'd been holding since before he entered you, "it's okay, baby, let go. let it go for me, i've got you" he'd connect your lips in an urgently wet kiss, needing to feel as much of you as possible and show his love for you, breaking it only to gasp and whimper as he felt the coil inside him snap. "oh god- i love you, i love you so fucking much, can't stop, oh-" "i love you too, five... let it go for me, that's it-" you'd speak out as you felt your own pleasure rise and snap along with him, mixing your love together in the deepest part of you.

you wouldn't stop moving against him, only slowing your pace so he'd have chance to come back to his senses. he'd never want to leave you. you'd feel his cock soften slowly inside you and you'd stop moving altogether, resting against him, tangling your free hand in his sweaty hair. he'd whisper endlessly about his love for you, relishing in the fact that you - the person he adored most in the world - had just made him feel nothing short of fucking euphoric.

he'd be utterly offended when you lifted yourself up off him, attempting to summon the strength to keep you there but his muscles would certainly betray him and he'd pout about it, blood coming back up to his brain and reinstating his usual arsey attitude. he still wouldn't object to you pulling him into a close cuddle whilst you brought him back to reality. he'd wonder if he did well for you, feeling like he may have disappointed you until you'd whisper to him about how good of a job he did, laughing slightly about how he's certainly a quick study. you'd feel him release a content sigh before dropping to sleep in your arms, feeling safe, feeling loved, feeling wanted. oh and he'd definitely be all over you the next day, wanting to shower you with affection, feeling closer to you than ever before.

[thesilvertheorist]

• missed you •

Carl Grimes x reader

REQUEST: anon asked -

"I LOVE your headcanons for Carl!!

I was wondering if we could get a FIC more in detail with the whole Carl giving us his hat when he wants attention thing? Maybe he misses reader who’s been busy lately so he runs up and puts his hat on our head and then runs away and we go to find him and it’s just lots n lots of fluff please please please? :3"

plot: you're away for a week, carl doesn't cope well, fluff ensues.

warnings/tags: fluff, sfw, soft!carl, worried!carl, anxious!carl, established relationship, cuddles as therapy, carl receives the love he deserves, hat (iykyk), alexandria era.

word count: 3095

Masterlist

Carl had always been impatient, snippy, and downright rude if things weren’t going his way. His attitude was no different lately as you were away for an entire week. Rick had assigned you to join the negotiation team heading for Oceanside and Carl was pissed that he wasn’t able to join you. He had asked his dad a million and one times if he could go, to which Rick always responded with a head tilt and a sharp “no, y’ can’t”.

You’d been assigned to the negotiation team as you’re level headed but always quick thinking. Rick knows that you’re better there, fairly negotiation on ammo supplies, as opposed to sending someone like Eugene…who’d outwardly disrespect the rules of the agreement and end up getting everyone killed. It was best for you to go along with the group, but you still didn’t want to. You’d prefer to stay here and do your casual shifts around Alexandria…maybe spend some time with your adoring boyfriend…

When you were packing to leave, Carl sat on the edge of the bed and huffed in disapproval as you packed only your essentials: a few spare clothes, toothbrush, small comb, weapons, ammo. Your boyfriend was insistent that he’d sneak out of the walls and follow you. Knowing exactly what he’s like (and how likely he is to follow through on that threat) you stand in front of him as he’s sat, and pull him into a hug, Carl nuzzling into your waist.

“Don’t go” he insists gently.

“I’ll be fine, I’ll be back before you even realise I’m gone” you assure.

“I know you’ll be fine, you’re strong, but I’ll need you here” he pouts as he leans back to look at up you.

Your heart builds and breaks for your poor boy. The two of you have been inseparable since you were ten, and now you’re leaving for a week…to negotiate with a new community…over ammunition. What could go wrong? You knew that Carl would be fine, he’d carry on with his duties, snapping at anyone who dare even look in his direction. He’d have to sleep in your shared bed alone for a week, not feeling your warmth or love, only the scent of your shampoo to comfort him. It both warms and shatters your heart that he’s like a puppy dog with separation anxiety.

With everything packed, plan organised, and group prepared, Carl walked you to the gates of Alexandria, carrying your bag for you - not dropping your hand for a single second. He only grips you tighter as you reach the gates. The group has opted to take horses instead of cars, so you’ll be on the road for at least a day. You give Carl a long hug and a loving kiss before mounting your horse (Carl being the gentleman he is, giving you both a leg up AND using his hat to cover your butt from any prying eyes as you get situated).

You can see the tension in him rising; his jaw is clenched tight and he’s stood stiff. He only moves when his dad tells him to get the gate. He waves you off as you leave and you blow him a kiss, smiling to him before the group is out of sight. You carry him in your mind whilst the group makes it’s way over to Oceanside, Michonne keeps you company and talks all your worries away. She’s under no illusion about how Carl gets when you’re not around, she knows exactly why you’re on edge about it too. Needless to say, she puts your mind at ease and reminds you that you’ll be back before long and you can take your pretty boy somewhere quiet and smooch the living daylights out of him. You smile at Michonne’s little jokes, thinking to yourself that her idea is actually quite preferable.

The ride to Oceanside takes the entirety of the day and by the time you arrive, everyone is exhausted. There were a few small herds of walkers on the way and the forests were littered with who knows what. The horses were well behaved, and you were grateful for having remained seated whilst wading through all that sludgy dead stuff. The girls at Oceanside help you put the horses away for the night and your group is informed that negotiations start in the morning, bright and early. Fantastic…not.

The next four days go as planned. Negotiations are going well and appear to be fair on both sides, tensions haven’t risen as of yet and the atmosphere is one of mutual respect. In this moment, you commend Rick on his decision to send an all-girls negotiation team that had Michonne at its wheel. Very smart decision. This was actually getting somewhere, for once. Although, even with things going better than anticipated, your heart ached and missed the boy you’ve left back at home.

The remaining few days pass agonisingly slow, you’re unable to rip your thoughts from what Carl might be up to. Usually, he’d have today off and he’d play with Judith at home. He’d try his best to make her breakfast and subsequently fail, he’d clean each of your boots of any mud that clung to them over the previous week (taking extra care to get the forest floor mulch out of the grips on the underside of yours, knowing how you hate to feel that under your feet), he’d read a comic or two, he’d do all of this with you. You wonder if he’s done any of this today…or has he picked up another shift from his dad to keep himself busy? He must be going insane…just like you are.

Michonne snaps you from your thoughts yet again, reminding you that the group travels back home tomorrow morning. Finally! You smile over your shoulder at her and imagine Carl’s cute happy face when he sees that you’re home, safe. You slept that night, eager to wake up and go. Nothing motivated you more than your boy.

The ride back home was the same as it had been on the journey heading out, mucky. A walker had spooked one of the younger horses and caused the others to become skittish. After dealing with the drama that had amassed, the group had to high-tail it to a more open position so nothing else went awry. Frustratingly, this would take longer to get back home. You decide to dismount and walk along the group for a while, dealing with walkers before they became an issue, doing your best to get back home on time. Nothing would stop you getting home on time to see him. Once cleared, you re-mounted and lead the group home.

The light was dwindling as the group approached the familiar gates of home. You’re surprised as they open before you even reach them. Michonne whistles for the group to pick up the pace and everyone rushes over. You barely make it inside and off your horse before Carl is pulling you into a bear hug. He must have been on watch all day waiting for you; he’s barely holding himself up, leaning on you almost entirely.

Rick snaps you both back to reality insisting that there needs to be a debrief, the council needs to be aware of what’s happened and what was decided. Understanding the importance of what he’s said, but still not wanting to leave your boyfriend, you plant a kiss on Carl’s cheek and head on over to the church with the rest of the group, ready to spill the beans to Rick about what a wonderful holiday you’d all had away…not.

As you’re climbing the porch steps of the church, you hear Carl’s footsteps behind you. You’d know them anywhere… to your surprise, he doesn’t cling to you or whisk you away. Instead, he places his hat on your head and turns to walk off, presumably heading home. Carl is EXTREMELY precious about who can touch his hat. He’s got so possessive over it that he even dislikes Rick touching it unnecessarily – and it used to be his! Nowadays, if Carl isn’t wearing it, and it’s not hung on the bedpost on his side – it’s on your head.

This act of placing his hat on you and darting off isn’t something new that your boyfriend does. He’s been doing this for a while…it started about the same time Lori died….now you think about it. He’ll get so stressed with what’s going on, with no outlet for his emotions…and some frustrating circumstances will forbid him from seeing you immediately so you can help him through it, so he’ll put his hat on you instead and run off to a quiet corner, waiting for you to come and return it to him. As you always do. This occasion would be no different.

Over time, this little ritual of his has become situational, sometimes he needs your help, other times he just wants your attention and needs to reserve your next available moment before someone else snatches you up. Even the group have come to recognise this as an indicator of Carl reserving your time. No one ever mentions it, but everyone gives you those small smiles as if to say that they know and they won’t take up too much more of your time.

Once debriefed, Rick double checks that you’re okay, making reference to you being covered in walker blood and forest mulch. You laugh slightly and assure him that you’re perfectly fine, better now you’re home. He commends you on how helpful you were during the negotiation, having heard from Michonne that you were invaluable to ensuring a fair deal. You smile at him and thank him for his words, feeling a sense of accomplishment – knowing that you’d done your best by those who do their best by you. Finally, you’re dismissed.

Your feet carry you quickly back home, taking you up the porch steps leaving muddy footprints as you go. You remind yourself to leave your boots by the door, Michonne would kill you if you tracked dirt through the house, plus she’d make you clean it – not fun. After your boots are off, you race through the house, noticing that only the lamps are on, no ceiling lights…interesting. You prefer the lamps, it’s better for your eyes, but only one person knows this. Carl. You take yourself up the stairs, poking your nose through Judith’s door, seeing her fast asleep. Perfect.

You turn to your shared bedroom door, opening it to see Carl, waiting on the bed – sat exactly as he had been whilst you were packing to leave, picking at his callouses nervously. You enter and shut the door behind you, Carl standing up and meeting you on that side of the room. This time, you pull him into a hug, tightening your arms around his waist, pressing your nose into his shoulder. Carl wastes no time in reciprocating – pulling you close, relishing in the feeling of your body against his.

“I missed you” he breathes out, his voice a shaky whisper.

You feel his body begin to tremble where he’s standing. You soothingly run your hands over his back, reminding him that you’re both here and safe – and that he’s in your arms. His trembling wanes but doesn’t cease…he’s barely keeping it together.

“Sit back down for me, Pretty boy, let’s get comfy, hm?” you calmly suggest, Carl letting you lead him back over to the bed.

This time, you set him down so that his back is against the headboard, over the covers. You climb up on the other side and get situated before opening your arms to him, letting him wrap himself around you and get comfortable. He leans his head into your neck and shoulder, entangling his legs with your own, clinging to you for dear life as you run your fingers through his hair and trail your nails gently down his arm in small patterns. He’s still trebling as you wrap him up in the small throw blanket that was hooked over your bedpost – which reminds you that you’re still wearing his hat!

You take one of your hands away from soothing your boyfriend to reach for the hat on your head, wanting to place it back in it’s rightful spot on Carl’s side, but just as you reach away to put it back, your boyfriend stops you.

“N-no, keep it on. I need you right now…” he worriedly speaks out.

You know in an instant what he means, he wants you to be his strength – he wants you to be the source of his comfort. He wants you to hold him, to care for him, to shower him with love, and to stay here…returning his hat means you’ll leave sooner – return to your duties or let something else consume your time. You wouldn’t let that happen, not whilst he’s like this, so you leave his hat on your head and bring him back in close.

“I’m here, I’m not going anywhere now.” You reassure him, your hands automatically going back to comfort your boy.

He doesn’t ask about the negotiation, you don’t ask about his time spent here over the last week. You both just savour this moment. You relish having your boyfriend so close, heart breaking over the fact he’s so messed up about having missed you so much. Your only job now is to comfort him, and to stay with him.

As the patterns you trace onto Carl’s arms and back start to regulate him, you bring your other hand up to sweep the hair from his face, feeling him let out an eventual sigh of relief at finally being able to relax, accepting that you’re back with him. You place kisses to his forehead and the top of his hair, spending as much time here as he needs. He moves slightly more into the centre of your chest, placing his ear against you, the sound of your heartbeat creating a calming rhythm for him to listen to as he drifts off in your arms.

“I’ve got you, Precious boy. It’s okay…I’m here, we’re safe.” You whisper, continuing your movements along his arms and back.

As he drops to sleep, you take a second to look over his face properly, his freckled face is tear stained and his eye has a dark grey semi-circle below it…he must have barely slept over this last week. You knew that your absence would be difficult for him, but you’re torn apart at seeing him like this. He’s always so strong around the group – especially his dad – but he’s a nervous wreck underneath it all.

You don’t stop loving up on him whilst he sleeps, somehow you feel as though he ‘d notice if you stopped and he’d wake up. You need him to get some rest so that you can talk about what’s happened when he’s more stable. You can’t deal with the idea that he’s been suffering this badly whilst you’ve been away. No wonder he raced to you so quickly when you got back. You kiss the top of his hair once more before letting yourself drift off with him, pulling him impossibly closer to you.

You wake up what must have been a few hours later, Carl still exactly where he was – sound asleep. The only issue is that your leg has fallen asleep beneath you. You try your best to move it out of the warm entanglement you’ve got yourself into, but regardless of how slowly you’re moving, Carl wakes up.

“Whe-where’re you going?” he panics again.

“Nowhere, Angel, my leg is asleep.” You smile back at him, cupping his cheek with your hand.

He lets out another relieved sigh before adjusting so that you can move your leg, feeling the pins and needles as it comes back to you. You wonder if now is the right time to ask Carl about what happened whilst you were gone, or would it just upset him more? You decide to bite the bullet, eager to know if you can ease his pain.

“What happened whilst I was away Carl?” you whisper to him, feeling him shift at your question.

“I- I uh…I’m better now.” He replies shyly, hiding his face against you.

“I know you are now, what happened whilst I was away?”

Carl takes a minute before responding, likely wondering if he can get away with waving most of his struggles off, deciding it was no use and you’d find out anyway – he swallows his pride and fills you in on his week.

“I couldn’t sleep so I took some extra watch shifts, but I got so tired and passed out when I came home. I got so panicked when I woke up and you weren’t here… your boots were gone, your gun was gone, your side of the bed was empty, you didn’t leave a note. I was so scared – I ran downstairs and dad stopped me, reminding me where you were. That was maybe…day three, I’m not sure.” He rambles out.

Your heart breaks; shattering everywhere, shards of it attacking your other organs, taking you out piece by piece. Carl had been here, having panic attacks about you being gone, working himself into the ground to try and distract himself… and you couldn’t do anything about it as it was happening. You weren’t there for him.

“Carl…”

“I just missed you,” he begins, his voice shaking again “so much.”

You cup his face with your hands and bring his lips to meet yours, hoping to express your love for him through your affection. He kisses you back eagerly, seemingly having forgotten how nice you feel. You spend time kissing him – small, romantic kisses that convey nothing but love, adoration, and tenderness. You pull away to test your foreheads together, closing your eyes.

“I missed you too.”

The remainder of the night was spend whispering sweet nothings to each other and cuddling close in the other’s warmth. You managed to get Carl into some more comfortable clothes so he could sleep and you’d taken off your clothes from your long day of travel, deciding to deal with that specific pile of laundry in the morning. With Carl cuddling up to you, under the sheets this time, your shared world seems to be at peace. You speak to Carl about the possibilities of the future, setting up a comic date with him outside the walls in a few days’ time. Life was liveable again, now you’re home. Now you’re with Carl again.

All Rights Reserved ©thesilvertheorist 2025

DO NOT REPOST

reblogs welcome <3

[thesilvertheorist]

• headcannons 3 - ethics •

Masterlist

feeding you snacks whilst i prepare dinner (unprofessional fic). i have much more to say on this specific topic so...maybe pt.2 in the future??

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

✦ five's ethics aren't actually as all over the place as they first seem. he's got a strong 'code' that he lives by and this made his time in the commission manageable for him: he'll never get to know to a target, never interact with one - if he can avoid being seen that's the ideal scenario, he'll never allow himself to think of targets as anything other than pesky remainders in an equation. however, he is aware that this train of thought is fucked up and he has been trying to find an alternative for years. seemingly, detachment is the only way he can remain focused.

✦ five never actually wants to kill, and he tries to rationalise his actions with proverbs along the lines of 'the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few' - but he's never really sure if he believes himself when he says this and wonders if his brain is just trying to protect him from the insurmountable grief of what he's doing, the lives that he is taking.

✦ five subscribes to being as ethical as possible, much like a free range butcher; people need protein, and this free range meat is one of the kindest ways to offer that. in five's mind, the world needs saving, and his small corrections are the kindest way to do that.

✦ he'd ridiculously accountable as well, he never shies away from the things he's done. he accepts the guilt, the trauma, the heinous nightmares and incoherent screams of victim's family members upon hearing the news. he carries it all and uses it to enforce his strict rule of: no needless killing. do what must be done and then back away.

❺ five employs empathy more than others realise. he's not blind, nor unfeeling - quite the opposite in fact. his feelings have been genetically altered but they are still there. he still has his own genetic code regardless of the sludgy morals pumped unwillingly into him. he loves his family, he empathises with others who love their families, he struggles to pull the trigger if children are present. he's not a violent dog, but he knows and accepts how he'd been both raised and programmed to bite.

✦ five ensures that his siblings never lose their moral compasses, he believes theirs are stronger than his, truer, more reliable...less tainted. this is why he's astonished when diego gets roped into the commission - and brags about it. five knows his siblings to be arseholes, but he also knows them to be the kindest people he has ever known, and will ever have the privilege to surround himself with.

✦ five will sacrifice as much as possible to ensure situations are handled with the upmost compassion - especially if his siblings are involved. this is evident when viktor tries to help harlan in the barn. five had a right mind to put a bullet in harlan's skull and leave it at that...but he knew that, in doing that, he'd practically kill viktor in the process - which he would not let happen. especially after all that love the group put into finding viktor and 'fixing' him after he blew up the moon.

✦ in hargreeve's world, five sticks closely to his nieces, allowing good emotions to flow out of him and onto them. he thinks of himself as their protector in a way - handling things he hopes they never learn about. he adores being an uncle, not too fond of children - but so protective of the ones in his family. he knows he'd kill for them, torture for them, die for them. hell he'd throw his moral compass out of a twelfth story window for them, letting it shatter on the ground and injure whoever happened to be below... but they didn't need to know that.

✦ he remembers the good things that people have done for him and likes to repay that in kind whenever he can. he remembers that luther and diego brought his sorry, drunken arse back from the library (and ensured to collect delores) and diego even allowed him to sleep off the alcohol in his bed. he'll never forget waking up there and seeing how they'd looked after him.

✦ five upholds integrity in two differing respects. firstly, he believes that a person should be authentic, and that anything other than this is a lie - hence why he's so accepting of viktor's announcement at hotel oblivion, same goes for when he finds out his siblings had been gaslit over ben's death - insisting they had their memories returned, it's also the same reason why he doesn't get mad at klaus for relapsing, struggles of truth are still virtuous. authenticity must be upheld at all times, anything else is immoral and unjust. secondly, he believes that this profound integrity of individuals increases the strength integrity of the group; honesty breeds acceptance and keeps people together.

[thesilvertheorist]

• headcannons 1 (angst) •

Masterlist

angsty headcannons because i like to cry

✁------------------------------------

✦ five can't process emotions well because he's been programmed to ignore his own, bury them deep so even he can't find them. he feels slightly ill when he realises he's feeling happiness/excitement; they feel alien to him, which spurs him into a spiral of guilt and shame

✦ five doesn't like apologies - to him, if you acted against him in the first place, that's a betrayal, and he now can't trust you like he once did [he then proceeds to isolate himself and turn his negativity inwards - spiting himself]

✦ five feels despondent in his own body, ever since the Commission altered it. he avoids mirrors if he can, averting his eyes if he can't. he gets spooked seeing his dopple in '63, eyes tracing the face of the older-looking version of himself, wondering if his feelings match the worn-out dullness of ageing skin and crows feet. this feeling offset a little when five's current body starts to age (although still ridiculously younger than he is) with the passage of linear time in s4. [even going so far as to adpot a 'tache when he's in 'disguise']

✦ five often doubts his figures, during his apocalypse numbers were the only thing he could trust, but now - as he's surrounded by life again, he doubts their integrity and rewrites the same equation over and over looking for a different solution. after coming to the same conclusion, he settles on the fact that he's fucked up and now cant even do simple quadratics.

❺ when five jumped ahead to the apocalypse at 13, he made his way through the city, foraging for anything he could find using a mental map of how he remembered the city, plus scraps of street maps he found at what used to be the bus station. when he jumped back to 2019 at 58, he made his way around the city remembering how it looked in the apocalypse, wondering if he was imagining society functioning as normal again. he inadvertently tested this theory by crossing halfway across a road and almost letting a car hit him, surprised when he felt the rush of wind hit his body and, what must have been, panic in his veins.

✦ he actually hates black coffee...five loved coffee as a pre-teen, he'd sneak out with the others to the diner and sneak coffee with cream and one sugar when he thought he wasn't being watched. when he jumped forward, he couldn't find the coffee he liked or the ingredients to make it, only instant coffee and dry roasted beans. so he made himself a cup as best he could and forced himself to down the gritty, tar-like substance as a form of punishment for landing himself here and killing his family. he drinks black coffee now as a reminder of his shame, and what he needs to fix.

✦ he can't sit still for a full meal, and he feels awful when he can't finish anything that's prepared for him. his stomach is so tightened with stress that he's basically running on fumes and caffeine, he tries to eat at Hotel Oblivion but only really manages a few bites before deciding that the others need the food more than he does.

✦ he has flashbacks constantly. every rime he looks at his siblings, all he can see is images of their dead bodies which he recovered after he jumped forward. he struggles with shaking the images so often that he sometimes has to look anywhere else but at his siblings - which he despises himself for.

✦ he internalises all the 'jokes' that his siblings rattle off to him about his attitude. wondering if they would have been better off without him there to give them shit all the time.

✦ five never wanted to give up fixing the apocalypse/cleanse. he spited himself for it throughout the entire ordeal and took a step back mentally to let his siblings decide his fate. he rationalised that he's the reason their lives are fucked in the first place; they have the right to take his from him. he could never pay his debt.

[thesilvertheorist]

• headcannons 2 (angst/fluff) •

REQUEST: anon asked -

"Okay but angst/fluff hc of five allowing himself to love/be loved after trying to brush his feelings under the rug and convincing himself he just wanted sex?"

!warning: themes of self-harm, self-hatred, mention of wounds!

A/N: i really want to add here that @kaybreezy3000 has some devastatingly good fics with these kinds of themes! if you like these hc's - you'd really enjoy their works. [be aware that they have both sfw and nsfw on their acc! mdni where you aren't supposed to <3]

Masterlist

okay so, this ask cut deep because this is literally so him...i actually need sectioning. this is on the cliff-edge of being a drabble but shh we don't pay attention to that.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

✦ five was very notably altered during his time in the commission, so much so that he isn't even able to distinguish the murder-rushed thoughts of some serial killer from who knows when from his own intrusive thoughts which his mind offers him as a cruel consolation for keeping him in this prolonged state of terror. this means that he struggles a lot with understanding his emotions when it comes to other people. he tries to put everything into a mental balance sheet, attempting to find some sort of logical conclusion to how he's feeling and what he needs to do for the better.

✦ five is not a cruel person, never has been. he can appreciate beautiful things and he can see when something holds significant emotional worth...he'll just never really say that. he's not this psychotic, unfeeling demon that many would have you believe [even himself to a point]. he cares incredibly deeply about everyone, constantly. the way he steers this is through putting his love into action, wanting to repay what he thinks is his debt to that person under the guise of some bigger mission like 'saving the world'. he's actually so deeply heartfelt, it just takes him a minute to figure out when it's appropriate to let his guard down along with how to do that...specifically. he's not used to feeling vulnerable emotions so this takes him a while. which is why he thinks sex is the only form of intimate connection he needs to regulate his body... and that it didn't need to mean anything...or at least that's what he was telling himself, he never felt fulfilled. he'd convince himself over time that he was undeserving of love, some shameful sex would be hurt just as much.

✦ once he'd allowed himself to know you, realise that you weren't going to hurt him physically, and then establish a connection with you (despite his better judgement) he tried to work on allowing himself to understand that he needs to open up to you more emotionally; there's only so many sarcastic, sexually intended jokes you can take before you eventually wonder if he's not into you the way you originally thought - which is a gross misjudgement, because he's never felt a stronger bond with anyone before. but he noticed he'd started to develop true sexual attraction for you (regardless of his efforts to ignore them and sweep these feelings under a very heavy rug and focus instead on meaningless sexual thoughts that wouldn't damage your bond). he didn't know what to think, but he purged himself for it. how fucking dare he? how dare he sexualise someone so tenderly loving and deserving of true love. perhaps he actually was who people said he was.

✦ when he really delves into what this means, five gets so messed up over the fact that he knows he's fucked up...and you're with him...so he's actively fucking you up and making your life a misery [obviously this is not the case, but this is how he thinks]. he can't separate the pure images of you from the one damning thought of you and him sexually...and all he thought about was that he'd be okay doing that with you. he gets sent downward-spiralling when he maps everything out in his head, seeing how much of him is yearning for love yet so scared to accept it, not even truly knowing what love is. he settles himself on the fact that he's literal scum for thinking of you like that, you deserve someone to love you - not some arsehole who can only think about sex.

❺ he has a huge panic attack about this one night when no one is around, feeling himself become hazy with self hatred and a deep inward loathing. he unfortunately gets so worked up about it, without you there to ground him or remind him who he is, that he takes to hurting himself just so he can come back to his body. he continues to hurt himself throughout the night, needing to bring himself back to earth somehow before he comes completely untethered and loses you forever, regardless of feeling wholly undeserving of you. he's so out of it that he doesn't notice you entering the room the next morning (or the fact that it is the next morning), coming to check on him as he hadn't called you back as he usually would. when his eyes manage to focus on you in the doorway he panics, eyes going wide with the panic of you seeing him like this, knowing that it'll only hurt you more...why the fuck did you have to care about him? it's killing him.

✦ he'd let you touch him, check his vitals, stop his bleeding...he didn't have the strength to object. he feels like he's burdening you with this; he should at least be able to hold it together and not go haywire at the thought of the two of you having sex from the one person he actually gave two flying fucks about

✦ as he lets you patch him up, taking your hand when you offered it, letting you clean and dress his wounds, letting you kiss his tears away. why the fuck was he like this? why could he not be normal for you? was he truly that incapable of feeling? what he didn't realise is that, as you're cleaning his wounds and kissing his salty face - he's accepting love. he's accepting you, openly - just as he always has... how is this happening? why? you're breaking his heart with your kindness for him. he'd just fall to pieces with you, spiting himself again at the agony of not being normal for you.

✦ your calming words, gentle caresses, and open heart make him want to die then and there; it doesn't get better for him than this - than you. he realises that this is how he feels loved...being cared for, being taken care of, being treated with true and honest kindness. this makes him want to crawl as close up to you as he can physically get, so he does.

✦ he actually has a lot of realisations in such a short space of time: that he likes the way that this comfort feels (even if it is alien and he feels undeserving), he wants you to feel the same from him, and he never wants to live without this. he gets so accustomed to your touch that he feels unearthed without it. he begins to basically orbit around you after the events of that episode. he starts to remain as close to you as possible, feeling comforted by knowing you're in the room - there for him as he is for you. he doesn't really know if he's deserving of love, but he knows you are - and he wants nothing more than for you to feel loved by him.

✦ there's never a spare moment where he doesn't appreciate you, so much so that he starts to replace every bad thought he has with ones of you, rewiring the hard drive that is his brain. you gave him permission to accept love, without saying a single word, knowing he couldn't allow himself. you know him so deeply that he'd give anything for you. he becomes selfish with the time the two of you share because its that damn precious.

✦ he's taken to making your coffee in a morning when he can manage to pry himself from the rewarding and unconditional warmth of your embrace... he even stirs affirmations into your mug...thinking only positively about his life (and you) when he makes things for you, knowing that you deserve to feel only love from him.

{{{✦he definitely loves being held by you, comforted by you. his favourite thing is when you're holding him close and you press kisses onto his lips gently, proceeding to pepper his face with the same love.[he thinks the most heartfelt thing you've ever done for him is kiss his ring finger before he married you...kissing straight to his heart as they say]. he feels secure in his silly appearance when you can show him devotion. [he also likes it when you play with his hair whilst he falls asleep].}}}

✦ he turns his need for activity into a need to fill your life with good things. he handmakes you gifts all the time: your coin purse has worn out? he's hand-sewn you a new one and added a cute charm that he picked out. lost your favourite necklace? he's hand-welded you a new one with his initials on the back. [he even installs a ring hook in by the bathroom sink for when you want to do your morning routine and don't want to get your wedding band dirty]. the two of you will take that step eventually, but as of these small moments in time - he feels fulfilled.

✦ five hargreeves appears in many forms - death, psychosis, fear...tenderness, warmth, devotion...love.

[thesilvertheorist]

• hide and seek •

Masterlist

You knew that playing hide and seek with Judith was a bad idea, even before Carl suggested it. All you could think about was how it was so dangerous to be messing about like that even within the walls of Alexandria. Rick would go insane if he ever found out about it and Carl knew that. What was he trying to prove? You had no clue what he was doing, or why he was doing it...all you were sure of is that if you didn't hover around the both of them then something would happen.

Carl had taught Judith the basics of the game: one person turns around and counts to ten while the other goes and hides, the person hiding needs to hide as well as they can, then the counter goes and finds the hider. Easy...right? Judith beamed with a sense of overconfidence whilst she was told the rules of the game - certain she would be able to beat her big brother at this game. Alas, she lost the first three rounds - and Carl was going easy on her. She was so precious hiding under the dining room table but stretching her legs out so Carl saw her feet (giving it a few seconds in hopes she'd figure out her mistake), hiding in the pantry but turning on the light as she closed the door (she's afraid of the dark), hiding behind open doors but giggling so much that it gave her away. She never understood how she was found each time, getting more annoyed about it as the rounds went on.

Poor Judith got so frustrated with this silly game that she wanted to be the counter; she wanted to win - and seemingly, she had to count to do that. So Carl, not wanting to lose (even to his baby sister), enlisted your help and roped you into the game...as the hider. He had to use Judith to convince you as you rambled on about how bad of an idea this was...but those adorable, wide eyes of hers would have you balancing a potato on your nose whilst doing the limbo if she looked at you long enough. This girl had you and your boyfriend wrapped around her finger, and she knew it...and Carl knew how to shamelessly use her to his advantage.

You had only one thing to reiterate to them before you joined in: no going outside the walls. You told them both very plainly not to go looking for you out there; it's not safe and they wouldn't find you. You'd hide inside the walls and with for them to find you. Once satisfied that the both of them truly understood what you were telling the, you ran off as they both turned around and began counting - Carl covering his sister's eyes so that she couldn't cheat.

You decided to run towards the gate and hide behind one of the cars stood ready to go on runs whenever people needed them. You hid behind one of the trucks that was quite tall off the ground, allowing Judith to see your feet from her little height, making it easier for her to find you and for her to win...ending this stupid game.

However, as you settled yourself against the side of the truck, perching yourself on the footstep leading into the cabin of the vehicle, you hear Tara call out at you from the watchpost above the gate.

"Hey, help me out, we've got a situation over here!" she called over to you, a sense of urgency in her voice.

You looked around over the truck and saw Carl and Judith walking towards the church, perhaps thinking you'd hidden yourself among the pews. You jogged over to the gate and looked through the small watch hole between the chainlink cover. What met your eyes had you wondering why the hell Tara hadn't alerted the others yet - a medium sized herd that was heading right towards the gate.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" you snapped at Tara, running back to the line of cars, opening up the passenger door of one of them to grab one of the alarm clocks that Daryl suggested people begin using to redirect walkers away, rushing back to the gate - opening it and shutting it behind you.

You let the alarm clock ring as you began to lead the walkers away from the gate. If you didn't make a sound and kept your distance, it was unlikely that they'd register you as human considering they were too occupied with a screeching alarm. All you had to do was find a clear ditch, and throw the clock in. Again, easy, right? You looked back up at the gate and saw Tara aiming at the walkers what straggled behind the herd, thinning them down with a sniper rifle so you had less of them following you away.

This is when you realised you'd left your weapons at home...not wanting Judith to get a hold of them and hurt herself. Shit. Well, there wasn't anything you could do about it now. you had to keep going...hoping and praying that neither Carl nor Judith would figure out you left the walls.

It took the best part of an hour to find the right ditch, one deep enough so that when the walkers fell in, they wouldn't be getting back out. You just had to be careful not to fall in yourself. Once you'd thrown the clock in the ditch and successfully moved out of the way so that the walkers could fall in, you rushed to get back home - back inside the walls. You were out here with no gun, no knife, and no backup alarm clock in case you ran into trouble.

As you began to make your way back, you got all of ten minutes into your walk before you heard a twig snap. You immediately turned to see what snapped it...finding your boyfriend stood there, teary eyed and panicked...sighing a large breath of relief upon finding you unharmed.

"Carl, what are you doing out here?" you ask him, making your way over to him, bewildered yet unsurprised.

"Don't worry, I left Judith with my dad - I had to make sure you were okay...I heard Tara calling you over, saw you duck out of the gate. What were you thinking? You don't even have your gun!" Carl snapped at you, wiping his eye, willing back the tears that threaten to drop down his lashes.

You closed the gap between you and pulled your boyfriend into a long embrace, feeling his tense muscles relax under your touch, his hands snaking around your back. You both stood still for a moment, savouring this moment of relief. It was obvious that Carl had panicked when he noticed you leave the walls - his heartrate was sky high...leaving was the one thing you said you weren't going to do...assuring him that you wouldn't be found if you did...you wonder how long he'd been after you, what he'd said to Judith, what he'd said to Tara and his dad. None of this really mattered though, both of you were together and safe.

Pulling him in for a gentle kiss, you feel his grasp on you tighten, unwilling to let you go again. You hated yourself for panicking him, but settled your feelings through giving him all the love you could do in this very moment - kissing him, holding him close, sharing his air. You pull away from him slowly, resting your foreheads together as you close your eyes, taking his hand in your own softly before reluctantly turning to leave and lead him back home. Only he doesn't immediately step with you - instead he stays put and pulls you back a step. His worried expression turning to something much softer, a smile finding its way onto his lips.

"I'm glad I found you." he spoke softly, looking at you like you were his very world... taking a moment to remember this - remember this feeling of love and immense gratitude, before taking a step forward and allowing you to lead him back home.

You knew how much this meant to Carl, aware of how badly he needs you around him. Acknowledging his need to keep the most precious person in his life safe. You adore how soft this makes him look, how pretty his words are and how devastatingly heartfelt his words are. He had won this round again, he'd found you, and there was no chance in hell he was letting you go - for anything.

[thesilvertheorist]

• now •

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

plot: five needs help, sexually

warnings/tags: smut (obviously), mdni, sub!five, soft!dom reader, office sex, PiV sex, unprotected sex (because they're idiots, don't do that), mummy kink if you squint, five calls reader mama, established relationship, EVERYONE IS 18+, set in S4.

Masterlist

Five had always had an air of impatience about him. Throughout the time that you’d known him, the years that you’d spent trapped by his insufferable sass and sharp wit, his lack of patience with everyone from his family to innocent coffee shop baristas became increasingly evident with each passing day. The new life that Five had to carve out for himself in yet another timeline became the biggest bug-bare on his list, he despised having to create yet another persona for yet another life which he felt had no meaning. It wasn’t until you convinced him that he’d reached his goal of ensuring his family is safe and alive, that he began to alter his perspective.

His attitude did not change immediately though. He found both of you entry level positions at the CIA to keep both of your active minds from disintegrating in the Hargreeves hellscape you were both landed in. Each of you were promoted into the same field and same position, seeing as your skillsets were matched and you could both decode mysteries easily. Who would have thought that years of saving the world would give you the credentials to work for the CIA? Your supervisor ensured that you were partnered on every investigation, swearing that you two could only deliver quality results together, listing off numerous failed solo-mission attempts. You and five were together day in and day out, with never any time for yourselves.

To be so close to someone you have loved for so long, who loves you in equal, abundant amounts, having to spend all of your time together investigating meaningless suspicious activities from the community to no end other than preserving what was left of your collective sanity was, in a word, exhausting. Neither of you could continue down this route. You had to get some alone time, quality time. No personas, no false smiles to superiors, no pleasantries or manners necessary. Five mirrored your thoughts, he was becoming more and more frazzled by the minute. His appearance never changed, as not to let colleagues know his struggle but you could see the grey under his eyes and the bitten down nails on his right hand. It didn’t take much for you to notice that he was losing his brain, forgetting where he’d put his favourite fountain pen when it was poking out of his pocket, his inability to tie his shoelaces correctly the first time due to a cloudy mind and shaky hands. Five was nothing short of losing it. You had to do something; it was cruel to let him suffer like this.

So, when Five walked into your shared office space with a new case file and an unreadable look on his face, you had to jump in and rescue him from his all-encompassing-black-hole of a brain. He bypassed his desk, not even glancing at the mess of papers and untidy case files he’d thoughtlessly left himself, walking directly to yours. You were sat in your desk chair, a sleek model that spun around. It wasn’t particularly comfortable but work and comfort never seemed to go hand in hand for you. Five handed you the file, stamped urgent, with a sombre look in his eyes that he was hiding from you. He went to speak, likely something to do with how neither of you would be going home tonight and how this case needed immediate attention, but he didn’t get further than opening that pretty mouth of his before you were cutting him off.

“Does this have to be completed today, Five?” you asked sharply, knowing if you gave even an inch with your wording, he’d have you both running on fume around the city all night amending this case.

“It says urgent.” He sighs in response, still not lifting his gaze to meet yours.

“That’s not what I asked.” You push. Unsure if he even knows the answer in his current state.

He doesn’t answer, he just stays there, unmoving. His abject inability to process the priority level of the file in your hands was all you needed to confirm the plan you’d already had in your head. Five heavily dislikes being overridden, he’ll bark at anyone who dares even motion towards a plan other than his. However, it’s becoming unbearable for him. You know him and you know him well. He’s silently waiting for you to reach out for him and take the crushing weight off his shoulders as you have always done when he’s met the end of his tether. This was nothing new to you, the signs were there. He needed you, desperately.

You turned your chair and stood up, case file still in hand. Five still didn’t move, staring at that same spot on your desk, letting you move around him. You move behind him, leaning into his space, breathing his air. You trap him between you and your desk, not with your hands, instead you do this with your presence. He remains still save for his head tilting over his left shoulder slightly so he can hear you better, eyes as avoidant as ever.

“Five?” you ask, checking he’s with you and not in his head.

“Mm…” he hums in response, so quiet that you’d be unable to hear him if you were any further away, his eyes falling closed.

“I’m going to be honest with you here, Sweetheart. I don’t think we’re up to this so soon after the last run.” you state, reaching around him to gently drop the file onto your desk.

As you reach around five, his back meets you and he all but collapses into your touch, his head leaning back onto your shoulder. He finds it a struggle to remain upright. All he wants to do is fall back into you, let you keep him safe whilst he drifts off into a comforted sleep for the first time in days…but his body betrays him. He starts to feel his body reacting to your soft breath on his ear and neck, your arms snaking their way around his waist to pull him even closer, your soft hum of amusement at his reaction sends him spiralling. He tries to fight himself off, tries to regain control of his body and force it to listen to his overtired brain. The only thing he has complete control of is his voice, meek and mild as it is.

“We have to go now, we’ll be in trouble if we don’t and I-” he starts to ramble, overcompensating for the mush that his mind is turning into.

His usual act of impatience isn’t flying this time, you don’t even allow him the satisfaction of finishing his, rather rushed, sentence.

“No, Five. The only thing that we are doing now is this.” you purr, authority and control creeping into your tone.

“Now?” Five mewls, leaning further into you, dropping his weight almost entirely.

He doesn’t know what he can handle, how much of it, for how long, or if he could even handle anything at all. The only thing that he knows is that he wants anything that you’ll give him, in its entirety. He wants you to pull him from his own mind, reach out for him in the blackest depths of his waning consciousness only to submerge him in you, drown him in you so that he has something to focus on. He wants you to make yourself the centre of his reality, force him to yield to your gravitational pull. He wants to be suffocated in the pure air that is your perfume, feel the silk of your skin caress his own, let your hair fall over him and shield him from the world outside of your shared embrace. Nothing has a higher priority on his list in this moment. He’s become desperate.

“Now.” You affirm, steering his impatient nature, giving him focus.

Five melts under your touch. You move your hands from his waist to his belt, hooking your fingers around the loops and using them to spin him around slowly. He moans as he moves, as if even that small time not touching you would unbalance him entirely. He swoons round, grateful when you gently push him onto your desk, fingers still on his belt loops. You take in the sight that is Five Hargreeves. Leaning on the edge of your desk, face flushed, eyes half-lidded, mouth ever so slightly agape…patiently waiting for your next move. You look over to the (ridiculously uncomfortable) sofa in the room, a small coffee table in front of it covered in yet more disregarded papers.

“Can you make it over to the sofa, Pretty boy?” you coo, already guessing his answer.

“N-no, can’t, need you-” he chokes, pulling at your fitted blouse.

“Darling, we’re going over there, you’ll be much more comfortable,” you begin, moving your hand up to brush the hair from his eyes, caressing his face as you do so, “with me, okay?”

You take Five by the hand, he grips you with an intensity you wouldn’t have expected if you only spared him a passing glance. You’re his only hope now, the only way he gets back to any sense of comfort and rest. He clings to you knowing that you’ll pull him from this. slowly, he lets you lead him over to the sofa and sit him down, the air leaving him as his body falls limp against it. His hand hasn’t left yours, he doesn’t know what you’ve got planned, but he’s more than ready to receive. He’s dropping further and further into that mushy brained state of his, the one he’s only ever let you see…let you handle.

“Please,” he breathes.

“Please what? What do you need, Five?” you tease, knowing he couldn’t answer you even if he did manage to un-fog his brain.

“You, please, needyounow- please mama…help me” he drabbled, clutching at you even more.

Five didn’t trust himself in this state, he didn’t trust his surroundings, the only reliable thing in his world was you. He needed your help, he couldn’t make sense of what was going on. He needed you to switch his brain off and reboot it, needed you to take him to pieces and rebuild him. you were more than happy to oblige, eager even. You slip off your office kitten heels, kicking them to the side and climb onto the sofa – straddling Five, earning more pretty gasps from his lips.

“You’re already doing so well for me, Sweetheart. Can you keep going for me?” you whisper.

“Yes, I-I can, please mama, I’ll do anything…” he whines in response.

It’s always bewildered you, Five’s neediness. Not because he’s needy, because he wants you to help him. It’s a privilege you never take for granted, his trust in you is the greatest honour of your life. Before you can think further into the pure pleasure it is having him beneath you, Five wraps his arms around your waist and back, pulling you flush to him, and utters the sluttiest thing you have ever heard leave his pretty lips.

“Use me”

And with that, your mouth is on his in a rough kiss, biting at his lower lip to gain entrance into his mouth, he lets you dominate him immediately – lets you explore him. Your tongue massages his in a way he can’t get enough of. His breathing becomes erratic and his hips lift off the sofa to meet your own. You decide that he needs air and break your kiss, moving his head slightly to the side with your hand, you begin to trail wet kisses down his jaw and neck. That is until you reach the collar of his shirt. How on earth can you mark him up whilst he’s still wearing this?

Noting your own impatience, grinning at the irony of this situation, you bring him back and connect his lips with yours once more. This time your kiss is gentler, slower, more intimate. You begin to make quick work of his tie, loosening it entirely and slipping the silk off him, keeping it to the side in case this turns out to be one of those occasions. You unbutton his shirt, untucking it from his trousers, slipping both it and his blazer off of his lean shoulders – exposing him to the elements. His heavy breathing is much more noticeable now, his ribs flaring and dropping with every move you make. You bring your hands down to his belt once again and begin to unbuckle the leather.

Five gasping merely inches from your face. You know it won’t take him long tonight, he’s already so far gone. Irresistible. Once his belt is undone, you place it on top of his tie, focusing on the button and zip that stand in the way of you and the source of his aching need. The agonisingly slow speed that you release him from his trouser-encased prison. His boxers are next.

“All off- so hot mama, please” Five whines.

“I’m getting there, Darling…be patient” you coo, hooking your fingers under his boxer waistband, lifting yourself onto your knees so that Five could lift his hips and you could rid him of the offending articles.

With Five now naked and quivering beneath you, you turn your attention to his aching cock stood proudly against his belly, touching just below his belly button. You take him into your hand, noticing the string of precum connecting the tip of his cock to his abdomen when you move him. Gently, you begin to stroke him base to tip, rolling your palm over his glans every time you reach the top of his length. Five is sent reeling. He feels small under your touch, observed. He’s underneath you, naked and panting, and you’re above him fully clothed, looking down at him whilst stroking his cock.

“C-close!!” he yelps, the scene being too much for him to articulate more than that.

You stop your movements instantly, tracing your nails from the deep red tip of his cock down to the base, pressing in a little to bring his mind back to you. The minor pain has him slack-jawed and his head lolling against the back of the sofa. You finally settle both of your hands either side of his happy trail, looking at him intently. He finally meets your gaze, his eyes watery, your heart shatters over him. He needs you and you’re teasing him, finding your own cruel satisfaction in his tortured mewls. The entire situation is rather perverted, and you need to bring yourself back in a little, remember why you’re here, what your job is: to save Five.

You run your hands up his chest, over his neck, and bring his face to yours, kissing him again. You hold his focus there whilst you begin to rid yourself of your own clothes, everything going smoothly until you reach your office skirt and tights. You instruct Five to hold onto the back of your thighs and move with you as you remove your clothes, and he does just that. He’s so obedient for you, so good, so unlike his outer persona, so himself. He’s grateful when he sees your body, as naked as his, breath hitching when he sees your breasts – mouth watering at the sight alone. His hands are still on the back of your thighs, you enlist his help when removing your tights and panties, which he does ever so perfectly, eyes never leaving yours.

“Lean back, Five” you instruct, Five flying to meet your demand.

You climb back on top of him, settling your hips just above his, not sitting down just yet though. The ait between the two of you is thick, Five is looking at you like you’re godly. His hands settle on your hips praying you don’t disappear from his grasp. All you want to do is savour him, but he’s in desperate need and you have to attend to him. Whilst thanking the gods that it was so late in the office that no one would disturb you, you sit further down on five, trapping his cock between his own abdomen and your slick folds.

“Mama-!! Aahhmmmm, please, need you, inside, please-”

Five let what little control he had left over himself go. Giving himself to you entirely as you grind yourself along his rigid length. His nails dig into your hips as you lift yourself onto your knees once more, lining Five up with your entrance.

“Ready, Sweetheart?” you ask, practically screaming out a yes in response.

You lower yourself onto him, feeling him stretch your walls and fill you up. Throwing your head back in pleasure, you feel as though you’re on cloud nine. Five fits your insides so well, bottoming out inside you, leaving no room between the two of you. You take all of his length, further proving to him without words that you’ll take him all in – look after him. you’re only pulled from your thoughts when Five’s hands paw at your breasts. His palms meeting your nipples, feeling them harden.

You reward Five by lifting your hips, lifting him from your slick heat until his tip threatens to leave you…and then dropping back down. Five is in absolute pieces, mewling, moaning, twitching beneath you. He begins thanking you again and again, knowing you’re taking care of him in the way only you can. You know he’s being so good for you, trying his best not to cum, all you want to do is praise him. You let your body do the speaking, you pull him into your cunt time and time again, slamming your hips down on him, feeling him fill you over and over. You begin to realise your own pleasure building, Five filling you, writhing beneath you, making such pretty sounds has you wanting to do nothing short of ruin him, using him to chase your own high, knowing that’s what he wants. He wants your pleasure. You tilt your hips and angle his cock straight against your g-spot, a moan ripping from you at the sensation.

“Good boy, so good for me, so well behaved. Doing so well for me. Making me feel so good.” You match your short sentences to your movements, nailing your praise into him.

You can see Five struggling now, your praise has got to him and you can see he’s about to snap. He needs to cum, he can’t hold it now. He wants you to cum too, to cover him in you, drown him, make a mess of him…he just can’t quite articulate that to you. Little did he know, you already knew, and you were right there with him. His eyes are still on yours, he’s just abut ready to bust, tears escaping his eyes when you reach for his hands, placing one so that he can rub at your clit, and holding the other in your own.

“With me” you instruct.

“With you” he responds.

You intentionally clench around him, and he practically dies, letting a guttural moan fall from his lips that you capture and lock with your own as you both reach your highs. You can feel Five’s warmth spread inside you and you ride him through it. Him spilling himself inside you is just what you need to fall off the edge yourself, mixing his creamy cum with your own.

You both still, you let five hide himself in your chest whilst you both sit there, the mixture of cum leaking out of you and down onto Five. You both heave and pant, you bring your hands up to play with his hair, tangling your fingers in the sweaty brown fluff. You stay like that for an indeterminable amount of time. You only move as you begin to feel your skin go cold. You gently tug on Five’s hair to warn him that you’ll be moving. He hums and never lets his hand leave yours as you steady yourself on his shoulder, removing him from your heat, a similar string connecting the two of you as was on his abdomen at the start of this endeavour.

“Feel better?” you ask settling in beside him so that he can lay himself on your lap.

“Much better…you were right…now was best” he speaks, gaining control over his breathing again.

With Five’s head on your thighs, your hand in his hair, breathing and heartbeats matched, you pull Five’s blazer over his small frame and pull his shirt over your arms and shoulders, doing up a singular button. You know that no one will check on you until the morning, you’re well aware that people truly have better things to do than keep tabs on what you were up to. The entire workforce is overworked, needing their own sleep. What a blessing, alone, intimate, comforting time with Five. Meaningful time. Tomorrow could bring along that urgent case file; this was exactly what you both needed, right now.

All Rights Reserved ©thesilvertheorist 2025

DO NOT REPOST - reblogs welcome <3

[thesilvertheorist]

Just passed by to say you’re currently the best Five writer in here! I personally think you cover the most accurate aspects of his character, so congrats for that!! Can’t wait for the trilogy and new hcs 🥹

✦ hey so this is potentially the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me ♡ thank you so much [for feeding my delusions]!! anon, you have my heart ✦

[thesilvertheorist]

• headcannons 3 (angst) •

Masterlist

cry with me, he's traumatised :((

────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────

✦ carl has had a horrific struggle with anxiety since the fall. he's constantly on edge - always worrying about the safety of the group, feeling like he's not doing enough to keep everyone safe. he feels guilty for having panic attacks when people are literally dying. he has a nervous skin-picking habit, particularly around his nails. he'll create and abuse hangnails until he bleeds without even noticing he's doing it...which is heart-wrenching, because he has such gorgeous hands.

✦ the same goes for his callouses...he has them from where he holds his pistol. they hurt like hell when they were formed and they give him serious grief when they dry out. he tries to pick them off, not realising that this will only make them worse. he can't stop thinking that no one will love him with 'ugly' and rough hands.

✦ he has a really tough time with enclosed spaces, especially if there's no exit. he can manage for a small period of time when avoiding walkers or differing enemies - seeing as it keeps him alive...but he feels trapped and unable to leave of his own free will when he's enclosed outside of these circumstances. he doesn't even like being told to go to his room at home (which rarely happens) but his dad has forced him to 'cool off' up there a few times and carl has always had to open his window and sit on the ledge as not to feel stifled.

✦ carl tries to escape into his comics whenever he can, wondering how much good he could do if he had half of the power that some of the characters on those glossy pages have. he wishes he were better constantly...wishes he were more than he is. he often feels like he's a disappointment to his dad and feels like he doesn't meet the (non existent) expectations set out for him.

✦ he doesn't socialise well. carl has been around adults all of his life, rarely getting opportunities to spend time with kids his age, he really doesn't know how to act about it. he can't act mature because they'll see him as a control freak, he can't let loose as a teenager because his dad would kill him - this only worsens when ron shoots him. he feels like he truly can't trust people his age which leads him to be excruciatingly isolated when michonne isn't around.

✦ he likes having his own bed but can't sleep through a full night alone, waking up many times through the night in alexandria to pace the landing and check on judith and his dad...make sure they're still breathing. [rick has noticed him doing this, and hasn't mentioned it.] he's so used to sleeping among the group, he feels insecure when everyone gets their own rooms.

✦ he has petrifying nightmares, so much so that they bleed into his daily life. he's had nightmares since he was small - only now he can't run into his parent's room and climb into their bed...he now has to deal with them alone...as everyone else does. he'd dream about the blood splatter from shooting lori in the head, he'd be shown images of sorrow and despair so often so that he'd be able to smell the death leaking from the terrifying sights he'd seen subsequently forcing him awake to vomit in the bathroom.

✦ this carries on in daily life, his nightmares controlling his senses - he hates the smell of burning meat because of terminus...he can't even gut a deer without considering how his friends have had their organs gnawed on by walkers who used to be decent people themselves.

✦ he falls into a deep depression around lori's birthday. carl can't keep track of days but its obvious when the seasons change. he always sings happy birthday to her, picking a flower for her and placing it on the mantlepiece or in judith's room.

✦ carl remembers when judith was born - specifically how his mum had a c-section. he never knew he was a c-section baby before that moment, and after lori told maggie to find her old scar, instructing her to reopen that wound to deliver the baby, carl wondered if he was born through lori's agony - placed onto this earth to inflict pain on others and to choke on it himself. he took one look at judith and tore himself up about how that specific train of thought would imply that judith was born to murder and to suffer - and he'd be damned if he let that happen...he'd shoulder that burden for the both of them. he'd hold himself accountable for the pain his mum felt...the agony she endured...the life she could have had...

[thesilvertheorist]

five hargreeves first time hc/drabbles? 🥹

✦as in like, spicy?? 'first time' as in like...virgin!five x reader first time ???✦

okay okay i see you.

✦ on it ♡ ✦