#young blood 2019

[palehorsemen]

Some illustrations to cdrama Young blood. We still haven't watched the 2nd season, but we've finished In blossom and Winter Begonia, so some new pictures are coming 😊

[the-real-loser-otaku-girl]

jirai media recommendations (feel free 2 suggest more)

some r still ongoing btw

-Young Adult Matters

movie (2021)

tw: sh, substance abuse, bullying, violence, gore, prostitution, death, sa, homelessness, sexual content, abuse, profanity, unwanted pregnancy (prob more im forgetting)

-Tomorrow I’m gonna be someone’s girlfriend

manga (2019-2024) and tv show (2022-2023)

tw: sh, profanity, sexual content, violence, substance abuse (again prob more im forgetting)

-Kairiki Bear

musician

song suggestions: darling dance, bug, failure girl, villain

-Isana

musician

song suggestions: Menhera Janai Mon!, Loved Smoothie

-Sensitive Boy

manga (2022-2024)

tw: sexual themes, sa, sh, violence (prob more i still need 2 read it ngl)

-Sentimental Death Loop

video game (2023)

tw: death, partial nudity, sexual themes, profanity, sh, suicide, violence, gore,

-Needy Streamer Overload

game (2022)

tw: sh, sexual themes, violence, substance abuse, blood, profanity, death, cults, vomiting (prob more that im forgetting)

-Strawberry Painkiller

musician

song suggestions: Bloodsucking Dreams, Grave Skull, Thousand Knives, Sugar Truth, Pharmakeia

-Candye Syrup

musician

song suggestions: idol of death, sweet suicide, C♡S.I.S

-Hookah Haze

game (2024)

tw: death, terminal illness, stalking, substance abuse (its just hookah im pretty sure but still gonna include the warning lmao)

-Magical Girl Site

anime (2018) and manga (2014-2019)

tw: bullying, violence, suicide, abuse, blood (prob more i havent finished it)

feel free 2 suggest more! out of all of these i suggest young adult matters, kairiki bear, nso, and strawberry painkiller the most!

[kaijuno]

"No piece of art has ever emotionally affected me the way this robot arm piece has. It's programmed to try to contain the hydraulic fluid that’s constantly leaking out and required to keep itself running...if too much escapes, it will die so it's desperately trying to pull it back to continue to fight for another day. Saddest part is they gave the robot the ability to do these 'happy dances' to spectators. When the project was first launched it danced around spending most of its time interacting with the crowd since it could quickly pull back the small spillage. Many years later... (as you see it now in the video) it looks tired and hopeless as there isn't enough time to dance anymore.. It now only has enough time to try to keep itself alive as the amount of leaked hydraulic fluid became unmanageable as the spill grew over time. Living its last days in a never-ending cycle between sustaining life and simultaneously bleeding out... (Figuratively and literally as its hydraulic fluid was purposefully made to look like it's actual blood).

"The robot arm finally ran out of hydraulic fluid in 2019, slowly came to a halt and died - And I am now tearing up over a friggin robot arm 😭 It was programmed to live out this fate and no matter what it did or how hard it tried, there was no escaping it. Spectators watched as it slowly bled out until the day that it ceased to move forever. Saying that 'this resonates' doesn't even do it justice imo. Created by Sun Yuan & Peng Yu, they named the piece, 'Can't Help Myself'. What a masterpiece. What a message."

Extended interpretations: the hydraulic fluid in relation to how we kill ourselves both mentally and physically for money just in an attempt to sustain life, how the system is set up for us to fail on purpose to essentially enslave us and to steal the best years of our lives to play the game that the richest people of the world have designed. How this robs us of our happiness, passion and our inner peace. How we are slowly drowning with more responsibilities, with more expected of us, less rewarding pay-offs and less free time to enjoy ourselves with as the years go by. How there's really no escaping the system and that we were destined at birth to follow a pretty specific path that was already laid out before us. How we can give and give and give and how easily we can be forgotten after we've gone.. How we are loved and respected when we are valuable, then one day we aren't any longer and we become a burden...and how our young, free-caring spirit gets stolen from us as we get churned out of the broken system that we are trapped inside of. Can also be seen to represent the human life cycle and the fact that none of us make it out of this world alive. But also can act as a reminder to allow yourself to heal, rest and love with all of your heart. That the endless chase for 'more' isn't necessary in finding your own inner happiness.”

[delulujuls]

young, dumb & bwoke | ln4

hi! as u can see i couldn't stop myself from writing about last saturday events in amsterdam with mr norris as main star (he was more popular than the king himself lmao). lando is literally what i always bring to the function and yup, enjoy him being the chaotic drunk bestie while max and y/n are his literal party parents. its nothing crazy and without plot basically, i just added sum to this years' koningsdag so yeah, enjoy!

summary: there is nothing that lando loves more than a good party and his beloved dutch friends so imagine him with drink in his cup surrounded by whole orange nation. it could be nuts and it was

warnings: TONS of alcohol, lando being drunk (and hurted), mentions of blood, basically sum chaos

pairing: fem!dutch!bff!reader x lando norris (ft. max verstappen)

Lando couldn't wait for the plane he was on to break through the heavy cloud cover and land in Amsterdam.

China and Miami, which were the next rounds on the calendar, were separated by two weeks that were nothing else, in Lando's case, than a time of stagnation. Add to this the fact that Lando had bad memories of his performance in China and, what's worse, the sprint he failed so badly and which constantly played in his head like a jammed record, one could go crazy. That's why the Brit was extremely happy when he received an invitation to spend the weekend in the capital of the Netherlands. He was invited to Amsterdam to celebrate King Willem's birthday by none other than his favorite flying Dutch.

The friendship of Y/N, Max and Lando began in 2019, practically from the very moment he entered Formula 1. The kid, who was barely 20 years old but looked like 12, immediately won over the Dutch couple with his smile and sense of humor, who, due to their sometimes severe temperament, could not boast of having many friends in the paddock. Even though the three friends were only two years apart, Max and Y/N naturally became Lando's racing parents, with whom the Brit spent practically every moment, from time in the paddock, through celebrating on the podium, to time away from competitions. So it was no surprise when they invited him to spend the weekend together, to which he, of course, eagerly agreed.

When the plane landed, Lando pulled the hood of his orange sweatshirt over his head and slung his backpack over his shoulder, in which he packed everything he might need for the coming days. As you could guess, there wasn't much of it, he actually had everything he needed on him and the most important part was an oversized orange sweatshirt. Waiting for him at the airport was Y/N, who couldn't wait to see him. She didn't have to wait too long, because a moment later he walked out in front of the terminal. Y/N smiled as she saw her friend walking towards her and she hugged him tightly.

"You knew I was coming, you could have asked the king for better weather," Lando joked, trying to sound serious, which only made the girl giggle.

"If you think that the weather will have any influence on what will happen in the evening, then unfortunately I will have to disappoint you," she replied, getting into the car. "It's already starting to get crowded in downtown, and it's not even noon."

Lando threw his backpack into the backseat and got into the passenger side. He smiled like a child, looking forward to how the weekend would unfold. It looked like he would spend a nice few days, able to finally de-stress and relax, and in the company of friends. But speaking of friends, one of them was missing.

"And where's Max?" he asked as they left the airport and were on their way to the girl's apartment. "I thought he had been waiting for me with the welcome committee since yesterday."

"He's already in town, I dropped him off while I was on my way to pick you up."

"He's fast," Lando laughed and shook his head, "I hope he's still on his feet when we get to him."

At that moment, Lando didn't think about the fact that no one else but himself would be able to stay on his feet. When the Brit set off for Amsterdam, he obviously expected to spend two days drunk, with legs sore from dancing and a sore throat from singing, but he forgot that he has absolutely no immunity to alcohol.

When the three friends were finally together, alcohol quickly appeared in their hands. Y/N and Max started with beer, but Lando had no intention of wasting his time drinking something that would only cause pressure on his bladder. As soon as he boarded one of the barges floating on the Herenbracht Canal, he drank several shots at once. Y/N and Max just exchanged glances as he drank the drink standing on Garrix's console in one gulp, who didn't care one bit about it, being already in a good mood himself.

"I'm a little worried about how this might end," Max said in her ear as she took a sip of her cider, watching Lando jump happily.

"Even if he's drunk, so what," she replied, handing him her bottle and taking away the body paints in circulation, "He didn't come here to be bored."

Max was about to say something, but she pushed his hand slightly, bringing the bottle he was holding to his lips. Max shook his head and took a few sips from it, while the girl started painting flags on his cheeks. When she finished, she waved them up, attracting Lando's attention, who understood what she meant and nodded eagerly. The girl squeezed through the console and stood next to him, leaning him against the barge rails, because Lando had trouble not bobbing to the music for a moment.

The smile that never left his face wrinkled his cheeks, on which she tried to paint Dutch flags. When she finished and turned to pass the paints, Lando took off her sunglasses and put them on himself.

"Have a drink with me!" Lando shouted, holding out his empty cup to her, and she raised her cider bottle in response. He rolled his eyes in dissatisfaction when suddenly a bottle of vodka appeared in the crowd and someone handed it straight to his hands. Without much thought, Lando unscrewed the cap and took a few sips as if the contents were water, which of course met with the crowd's approval.

Y/N took the bottle from his hands, fearing not the amount Lando drank, but the relatively short time it took him to do so. However, not wanting to seem boring, she tilted the bottle herself, letting the liquid burn her throat. Delighted, Lando clapped his hands and hugged his friend, causing some of the alcohol to flow down her chin. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist as well, and raised her hand in a toast, which was joined by everyone who had something to drink.

Max also raised his beer bottle a bit. However, somewhere in the background of his mind there was an image of Lando and what he would look like in the near future. However, the Brit himself did not care at all about this. As long as he was in the company of his friends, his plastic cup was full and he could jump to the music and sing along, he was happy. Even the fact that his face was in the wrong place at the wrong time, when someone, completely by accident, punched him in the face, didn't disturb it.

Y/N, who also decided to pick up the pace after drinking her cider, immediately sobered up when she saw blood on her friend's face. She quickly pressed a tissue to his nose, but he tried to assure her that he was fine. His brain didn't encode the impact or the pain, didn't acknowledge that he was bleeding, even when he ran his tongue over his lips and tasted blood on them. People in the crowd started calling out to each other to see if anyone had a first aid kit. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bandage appeared, and just as Y/N, being drunk, thought it would be a great idea to wrap Lando's face in a bandage, Max started asking people if they somehow had band aids. He couldn't let that dumbass parade around like that for the rest of the evening.

“I've sobered up a bit, I can keep drinking,” he said as Y/N finished clumsily bandaging his face, “I probably look worse that i did when i crashed in Vegas.”

Her friend tried to be serious, but it was impossible to stay serious around Lando. "You have to be careful, Lan," she said, trying to retain some sanity and touching his cheek, looking into his eyes, "I hope it's not broken."

"Bwoken," he repeated in silly voice, giggling "Oh no, it couldn't be bwoken"

"Honestly, i also hope it is not," Max interjected when he managed to rejoin his friends after some time, "Getting to the hospital now would be a near miracle."

"Hey, I'm fine," he said as Max waved the Band-Aids in his face and began to remove the clumsy bandage into which their friend had probably poured her whole heart and a few drinks that she drank earlier.

"I'm glad you don't feel anything, but that doesn't change the fact that I won't look at it," he replied, lifting his chin and examining his nose from every angle. Luckily this one seemed fine.

Once Max had placed two tiny patches on him, Y/N handed him his mug with a fresh drink again. "Brave patient," she smiled at him.

"In a state like this, I'd be surprised if he felt something," Max admitted, taking a bottle of vodka standing nearby. He decided that since Lando had had an accident, nothing worse awaited them and he could allow himself to loosen a bit more. He took a few sips and handed the bottle to the younger one, who smiled, tightening his hand around it. He looked at his friends standing in front of him, slightly drunk but still fully focused on him. He knew he was important to them and that he is not alone in all this madness.

"I love you guys," he said, with a bottle in his hand, pushing himself off the railing and hugging them, "You are the best in the world, simply the best."

The rest of the day and later in the evening took place in a great atmosphere and the party lasted until 3. in the morning. For the rest of Amsterdam it probably lasted longer, but for Lando it began to end after two o'clock, when he was barely able to stand. Partly from being drunk, partly from being tired. He didn't stand still during a single song, so the next day, apart from his face, his legs will certainly be visible. Taking a break for something warm to eat, Max, Y/N, and Lando sat down at one of the wooden tables. While waiting for their orders, Lando rested his head on Y/N's shoulder and closed his eyes. It was obvious that he just needed something to lean on to fall asleep.

"I think it's time for us to go," the girl announced, directing her words to Max. "The baby is only fit for bed now."

"He's been in great shape for a long time anyway, judging by how much he was on his feet today," Max concluded, glancing first at him and then at the girl, "But you're holding up pretty well, aren't you?"

"Yes, I do," she nodded and hugged Lando, who began to slide off her shoulder, "But I'm also getting sleepy."

"Me too," Max rubbed his face with his hands, "At least we can be sure that no one will wake us up first thing in the morning to explore the city."

He said, glancing at Lando, who was dozing with his mouth open on his friend's shoulder. After eating casseroles and fries, which were for Lando and which he was unable to eat, the three of them went to the girl's apartment. Of course, only she and Max were walking on their own, Lando was between them, leaning on their arms. He was muttering something incomprehensible under his breath, so it was obvious that he was alive and everything was fine, besides the fact that he was completely drunk.

When they arrived at the address and crossed the threshold of the apartment, they immediately went to put him in the bedroom, not wasting time in unfolding the couch for him. Max was in the process of stripping him of his shoes, pants, bloody sweatshirt, and all the necklaces and ribbons he had collected the previous day, while Y/N placed a large bottle of water, painkillers, and a bucket by his bed, as if the contents of his stomach had suddenly decided that they wants to get outside. However, there was no indication that Lando was going to have a restless night, because he started snoring softly as soon as his cheek touched the pillow. Max covered him with the blanket and took a few steps away from the bed, standing next to his friend who was looking at the sleeping boy.

"Can you hear that?" Max whispered, glancing at her, and she frowned questioningly, "It's silence, listen to it, because when he gets up, the only thing you can hear will be his lamentations about how hungover he is."

The girl snorted quietly and shook her head, taking Lando's clothes to the laundry.

"The most important thing is that he had a good time. And a little hangover never killed nobody."

The next day, however, did not bring anything unexpected. When Lando woke up, the first thing that hit him was a terrible headache that got worse when he sat down and tried to get out of bed. When he stood in the doorway of the bedroom, Y/N and Max's eyes immediately went towards him and Lando could swear that they looked like they spent the entire last evening on the couch.

"Hi honey, did you sleep well?" Max asked playfully, in the perfect mood for jokes since he himself was fine after last night.

Lando just blinked several times and wanted to wipe his face with his hands and collect some words to answer, but when he touched his cut nose, he cursed loudly.

"What the fuck?"

"A souvenir from yesterday," the girl answered him, getting up from the couch and taking out a frozen package from the fridge, which she handed to him, "I recommend a shower and I'll make you some coffee."

He closed his eyes and put the package to his nose, sighing and grabbing the bathroom door handle. Before he disappeared, Max just shouted after him.

"And don't puke in the shower!"

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℳ𝒶𝓎𝒷𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇

the prologue- piece of shit

Series masterlist

Warnings- mental/physical abuse, neglect, mentions of blood, read at ur own risk

“J.” You sighed in relief when he came out, wrapping your arms around him quickly and tightly.

“Hey, y/n.” He mumbled, returning the gesture.

You all walked outside, your heart sinking with each step.

“I wonder what restitutions gonna be on a 2019 Malibu.”

“I’ll pay it off. All of it. I swear, dad.” JJ said.

“Shit. 30k? When you gonna clear that, big guy? When all you do is smoke weed and hang out on the south side?”

JJ looked at the ground, you worried for him as you both stopped in front of the car.

“Get in the car.” Luke spoke, getting into the drivers. “Let’s go.”

You looked at JJ, giving him a small smile and patting his shoulder before going into the backseat.

JJ sat, Luke staring ahead at the street in front of him.

“Dad, I swear-“

JJ was cut off when your dad lunged at him, punching him. You let out a scream, trying to stop your dad and pull him off, but he just pushed you back into the seat.

Luke got on top of him, JJ struggled against him.

“Thirty thousand dollars! Do you know what you did to me? Damn-“ he yelled, JJ groaning in pain.

You shouted in the back seat, sobbing out your brothers name while your dad and him argued, your dad hitting him multiple times, his blood splattering onto the windows.

You desperately tried to grab your father’s hands, try to pull them away, but he just slapped your hands away, all his focus still on JJ, who he felt had disrespected him.

You shouted and cried, JJ leaning his head against the bloody window as your father finally stopped, leaning back in his seat.

—-

The drive back was Luke shouting at JJ, while you tried to intervene from time to time.

“Dad, that wasn’t his fault, It wa-“

“You, shut up! I told you already, young lady, stop tryna defend him!” He slammed his hand onto the steering wheel, you swallowing the lump in your throat.

JJ had glanced back from the side, shaking his head at you, his way of telling you to stop. When you got back home, JJ stormed into his room, pacing.

You began to follow JJ before your dad stopped you.

“Jesus, stop followin’ him. Go get me a fuckin’ beer. Or two.” He said to you, nodding over to the kitchen. You sighed, going into the kitchen and grabbing two bottles, handing them to him. He popped them open and began to shout again, making you flinch.

“By sittin’ around doing nothing! I’m gonna tell you right now, you are a worthless piece of shit!” Luke shouted.

You felt terrible, scratching at your skin as you looked down at the floor, you felt like a failure of an older sister. Always at your dad’s beck and call- it was why he had a little bit of a soft spot for you. He didn’t hit you as much as he did JJ.

No, he more so liked to throw misogynistic comments at you. Or call you names, or toss insults and scream and yell. But he rarely hit you- only when you did something truly to piss him off.

Like that one time when you showed up to school and had told some counselor about what he did. You were 13 at that time and he never forgot about it.

But JJ always got the worst end of it, he was the one getting hit more than anything, you didn’t know whether it was because of your mom or whether it was because of his rebellious nature.

“Shut up!” He shouted from inside his room, pacing it with his hands tugging at the roots of his hair.

“Your mama knew.”

“Shut up!” He was enraged at the mention of his mom, God he hated it. Your heart sunk at it.

JJ threw things around the room, growling and screaming in anger, they continued to go back and fourth for a while.

“Get your ass in here!” Luke shouted, you watched the two argue again for a while, things escalating until you broke it up.

“Dad, dad, chill out, okay? It’s done.” You spoke, putting your hands on your dad’s chest. He heaved, JJ stepped back away from him.

“Why do you always fuckin’ protect him?” He asked you now, looking down at you.

You didn’t answer, just looked back down to the ground.

“Huh? I asked you a question! Why, y/n?!” He scoffed. You shook your head and began to cry again.

Luke backed away, shaking his head as he sat back down onto the couch.

“God, I raised a bunch of fucking losers.” He mumbled with a laugh, taking another sip of his beer.

Finally, Luke had fallen asleep and you and JJ were left alone out in the living room.

“Jj..” you mumbled, sitting in front of him now with a bandage and some alcohol.

He breathed heavily, not glancing up at you.

“Can you let me clean it at least?” You whispered to him, tears falling down your face again. He looked at you now, and back at his dad.

“Please?” You pleaded, he didn’t say anything as you dabbed his face with a cloth full of alcohol.

“Sorry.” You told him when he winced in pain. He didn’t respond. You grabbed a pink bandaid- the only ones left you had, putting it onto his face and sighing, standing up again.

He wordlessly walked to his room, packing a bag full of clothes and other things. You furrowed your eyebrows, eyes following his every move.

“J?” You questioned when he stood at the door, bag slung over his shoulder. You stood up, going to him now.

“I gotta go, y/n. I can’t be here.” He told you, your hands going to his face, rubbing off the dirt he had.

“What? Jj, I- I mean I know tha-“

“You should leave too.” He told you, you shaking your head.

“I- JJ, I get it, I do, but I- I mean-“

“I gotta go, y/n. I can’t do this anymore. I’m not goin’ to.”

“Are you gonna be back- or- or-“ you stuttered out.

He shook his head. “If you need anything, I’m at John B’s. You know that.” He held back tears of his own.

“Jj, what about- you’re just leaving me?”

“Then come with me-“

“I can’t! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.” You whispered to him, shaking your head. “I can’t, JJ.”

“I’m sorry.” He said again, pushing your hand away from his face.

“J- JJ- are you serious right now?” You laughed like it was some sick joke, following him outside, he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“JJ!” You shouted as he started his bike and drove away, giving you one last glance.

“Fuck.” You cried out, sitting on the grass, putting your hands over your head. You were completely and utterly alone.

—-

JJ didn’t talk to you for months after that, you’d been busy taking care of your dad and make sure he didn’t end up in jail again.

And you ended up paying off the 30k, slowly and gradually with the money you had saved up for college or a car. You didn’t know what for, really. Just saved it up since you were 10.

Along with that, you’d taken on three jobs. Things seemed okay for a little, you had a boyfriend for a few months, Luke was out of jail, and you had managed to keep three steady jobs for a while.

That was until JJ showed up again, taking the keys to the phantom. Everything changed after that.

[vampirecorleone]

More YELLOW Fashion in TV & Film: Princess of the Nile (1954) | What a Way to Go (1964) | Peau D'ane (1970) | Aladdin (2019) | Lost Horizon (1973) | Dracula (2013) | The Man with the Iron Fists (2012) | A Date with Judy (1948) | Coming to America (1988) | Dangerous Liaisons (1988) | The Cutting Edge (1992) | My Gal Sal (1942) | Beauty and the Beast (2017) | Shea Coulee - Creme Brulee (2018) | The Man in the Iron Mask (1998) | True Blood (2008) | Mirror Mirror (2012) | Sailor Moon (1992) | The Young Victoria (2009) | The Girls of Rochefort (1967) | An American in Paris (1951) | Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953) | Till the Clouds Roll By (1946) | I Love Melvin (1953) | Give a Girl a Break (1953) | Titanic (1997) | 27 Dresses (2008) | Marie Antoinette (2006) | Down to Earth (1947) | The Pirate (1948)

[mononijikayu]

marutsuke — gojo satoru.

You smiled back, though it was small and fleeting. "You could start now, you know." Satoru let out a soft laugh, the sound almost bitter, but there was a hint of something lighter underneath it. He took another sip of his drink, shaking his head slightly. "You’re asking a lot of me right now, Gen–senpai. You know that?" "I’m just asking you to be human, Gojo–kun." you replied softly. “Just be yourself.”

WARNING/S: post-hidden inventory (2006-onwards), domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 5.3k words.

NOTE: i wrote this a long long while ago and to celebrate jjk ending, i would like to give this as a humble offering. i've been a fan of jjk since 2019, when my friend introduced it to me. jjk means the world to me. it was there for me as much as bts was in my harsh and painful years. i am most grateful to share and continue to share the joy of it here in my little corner of the world. thank you guys for sharing the love of jjk with me. you guys are amazing. i love you guys so much. let's continue to be fans together for a long time!!! also the song is from given. its a lovely song <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

YOU HATED THIS FEELING, YOU HATED REPETITION LIKE THIS. You stood in the dimly lit hallway, fists clenched, your eyes burning with fury as you learned what had happened to the first years. The mission had gone horribly wrong, and Haibara—kind, hopeful Haibara—was dead. Nanami barely made it back. You trembled with rage, unable to process the incompetence that had led to this.

It was just like this when it was Namie.

Your mind flashed back to the past, to the same helplessness, the same sickening weight that had crushed your chest when Namie, your dear friend, had been sent out on a mission with faulty intelligence. They hadn’t even gotten her body back. You remembered the emptiness, the cold fury that took root inside you ever since.

And then there was Amanai Riko. Another loss, another innocent life extinguished because of their arrogance, their reckless disregard for the lives they swore to protect. Your nails bit into your palms as you fought back the wave of grief and anger.

And now... now Haibara.

Another young life, snuffed out before it could even truly begin. Your breath came in short, ragged bursts as the memories collided with the present, your fury building to a boiling point. You had warned them. You had fought, had demanded better, and yet nothing had changed.

"How many more?" you whispered to yourself, your voice trembling with fury. "How many more have to die before they open their eyes?"

"They had faulty intelligence," you spat, your voice laced with venom. "Faulty intelligence, and they sent them in blind. Blind!"

Your words echoed down the empty corridor, but it wasn’t enough to release the fury simmering inside you. You stormed forward, your footsteps heavy with the weight of your anger, the hallway dim and suffocating as you advanced. The rage that coursed through your veins was more than just anger—it was righteous fury, the kind that demanded answers, demanded justice for those who had fallen.

You didn’t care about decorum or procedure. Not now. Not when another life had been so carelessly thrown away.

The sight of the mission manager at the end of the hall, sitting casually at his desk, only fueled the fire inside you. He looked up, his expression one of mild surprise as you approached—indifferent, as if the death of a student was nothing more than an inconvenience, a casualty of duty.

Indifference. That look—the one that dismissed Haibara as just another statistic, another name on a growing list of losses. It ignited something in you that was barely contained.

"You!" you hissed, your voice trembling with the intensity of your rage. The air around you seemed to crackle with tension as you marched up to the manager’s desk, eyes blazing. "You sent them in blind! Faulty intelligence, and you signed off on it like it didn’t matter! Haibara is dead because of you!"

The manager blinked, clearly taken aback by your outburst, but his calm exterior didn’t waver. He leaned back in his chair, hands folded calmly in his lap, as if he was used to this—used to the accusations, used to the aftermath. He probably expected you to eventually calm down, to accept that this was just the way things were.

But you weren’t going to calm down. Not this time.

“You think this is acceptable?" you seethed, leaning over his desk. "You think sending kids in with faulty information is just part of the job? You didn’t care about what would happen to them—you cared about following protocol, making sure you checked off the boxes so you could wipe your hands clean when it went wrong."

The manager gave a slight sigh, adjusting his glasses as if the whole situation was an inconvenience. "These missions come with risks, you know that. It’s unfortunate, but we—"

"Unfortunate?" your voice rose, fury spilling over. "You think this is just 'unfortunate'? Haibara’s dead because of your incompetence, and all you can say is that it’s unfortunate?"

The manager’s lips thinned, his calm demeanor wavering for just a moment. "We did the best we could with the information we had. It’s not always perfect—"

You slammed your hands down on the desk, silencing him immediately. Your face was inches from his now, your voice low and lethal. "No. You didn’t do the best you could. You cut corners, and you sent them in knowing it wasn’t safe. You sat behind this desk while they went out there, while they—" Your voice caught for a moment, thinking of Haibara, of Namie, of Riko. "You have no idea what it’s like to lose someone because of your arrogance."

The manager didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. His silence was answer enough.

Your fists clenched again, your whole body trembling with the effort to contain your rage. You wanted to scream, to tear this entire building apart, but all you could do was stare at the man who had signed Haibara’s death warrant with his negligence. The worst part was you knew it would happen again. As long as people like him kept making decisions, more lives would be lost.

“That’s enough.” That familiar voice. You stopped.

“You piece of shit!” you snarled, your energy crackling dangerously. You lunged, but before you could strike, Yaga intervened, gripping your arms to hold you back.

You whipped around, your rage now directed at Yaga. “You! I warned you. I fucking warned you! But you listened to those old farts, didn’t you? You think it’s okay to send them in, even blindly.” Your voice cracked with fury, your eyes burning into Yaga’s. “And now, you’re stuck having to explain to Haibara’s parents why their son isn’t alive! That blood is on your hands!”

Yaga’s grip remained firm, but his expression darkened as you pressed on.

“My father would be ashamed of you,” you said, your voice low, bitter. “You’ve become exactly what he stood against.”

Yaga’s eyes hardened at your words, but he didn’t let go. He knew your anger wasn’t just at him—it was at the system, at the higher-ups, at the entire broken system that cost Haibara his life. But your words cut deep. Mentioning your father, a man Yaga once respected, felt like a blade twisted into his gut.

"Genmei," Yaga said, his voice steady but tense, "I didn't want this. You think I don’t care? You think I don’t feel the weight of it? I never wanted to send them in like that."

"Then why did you?" you snapped, stepping closer, your face inches from his, rage seething in every word. "You could’ve stopped it. You had the authority! Instead, you caved to those senile cowards who sit behind desks, making decisions they’ll never face the consequences of."

Yaga's jaw clenched, his voice growing colder. "You think I had a choice? You think I didn’t fight back? The orders came from the top, Genmei! From people I can’t defy."

You shook your head, trembling with disbelief. "So that’s it? You just roll over and let it happen? You tell them it’s fine to send kids like Haibara to their deaths? You and those spineless managers let them go out there—for nothing."

Yaga's grip on your arms tightened slightly, but his voice remained calm. "I know you’re angry. I know this isn’t fair. But it wasn’t blind. They were prepared."

“Prepared?!” Your laughter was bitter and sharp. “You call this prepared? Haibara is dead! Nanami is broken. And now you have to look those parents in the eye and tell them their son is never coming home."

Yaga’s silence spoke louder than anything. The weight of what you said settled in, his posture stiffening with the responsibility he bore. He hadn’t spoken to Haibara’s parents yet, but he would have to. And the thought of it, the unbearable weight of it, gnawed at him.

"Every single student is my responsibility, you know that." Yaga finally said, his voice quieter now, though no less strained. "I carry that burden every day. You think I don’t feel it? That it doesn’t tear me apart? But I don’t have the luxury of rage. I have to keep moving, keep fighting—for the ones who are still here."

Your hands fell to your sides, anger simmering down to a bitter ache. You looked at Yaga, your voice softer but no less furious. "They trusted you. We trusted you. And now we’re left with nothing but grief. Don’t you dare try to justify this."

Yaga looked away, his jaw clenched. "I’m not trying to justify it. There’s no justification for it. But you think I haven’t warned them, too? We both know how they operate. But my hands—"

"Don’t tell me about your hands being tied." you interrupted, your voice sharp. "You had more than just orders. You had a choice. And Haibara Yu’s blood is on all of us for not stopping it. And I'm sure....too sure. That there will be many more. All because you can't fight against those old farts."

Silence hung between you, heavy and suffocating. Yaga’s grip on your arms loosened, his expression still hardened by guilt and responsibility. He knew it too well, he knew that it was also his fault. And perhaps, in truth, you didn't blame him that much. You knew there was nothing a teacher can do against the whole of Jujutsu society. But you can't help but be angry. Just like at your father's funeral. And that too, Yaga blames himself.

“I’m going to make them pay for this.” you said in a low, deadly voice, your anger no longer explosive but cold and resolute. “The ones responsible, the ones who allowed this to happen—they’ll know exactly what they’ve one.”

Yaga met your eyes, his voice quiet but firm. "Don’t let your anger consume you. Your father would say the same thing. This world is already full of enough darkness."

Your expression didn’t change, unfazed. "Maybe it needs a little more darkness before it can see the light. My father also knew about that."

YOU WANTED TO HAVE A SMOKE. But you were sure that the sprinklers would alert people. So you went against it. You stormed out of the manager’s office, your fury barely contained as you made your way down the empty corridor.

The cold, sterile walls felt suffocating, your mind clouded with the weight of it all—Haibara’s death, Nanami’s devastation, the recklessness of the higher-ups. You needed to see him, to confront the harsh reality of what their negligence had wrought.

The morgue was dimly lit, its stillness heavy with the presence of death. You moved quietly, but your footsteps faltered as you approached. Standing just outside, you heard voices—low, tense. You stopped.

"Why not let Gojo take care of everything?" a bitter voice sneered. It was Nanami Kento.

Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized that tone. Nanami’s words were sharp, laced with exhaustion and frustration, and just as the retort began to form on your lips, another voice cut through—calm, but strained.

"Nanami, that’s enough," Geto Suguru’s voice was tired, a weariness that weighed down each syllable. "This isn’t about Satoru. Don’t take your anger out on him just because you feel helpless. We all do."

Helpless.

The word hit you like a punch to the gut. Your body froze as Nanami’s bitter words echoed in your ears, triggering a flood of memories you had buried deep. You could still see the way Kaiko had looked at you after Namie’s death, the sharp, accusatory words that came spilling out, venomous and cruel.

"Why not let Genmei take care of everything, huh? She’s always so sure of herself, isn’t she?" Kamo Kaiko had sneered, the pain of loss warping into something uglier, something that wanted to hurt others. The same helplessness Nanami was drowning in now.

You had seen the look in Kaiko’s eyes—the same bitterness, the same exhaustion, the same desperation to place the blame somewhere, anywhere, other than the black void of grief you were all struggling to survive. And you had tried to calm Kaiko down, tried to reason with her, but the pain had been too raw, too fresh. It had escalated. Words had become fists, and by the time it was over, you were both broken in different ways. You never spoke again after that fight.

Now, hearing Nanami’s voice, the echoes of Kaiko’s bitterness in every word, your heart clenched. You couldn’t let this spiral the same way.

You stepped forward, your presence quiet but commanding. The shadows shifted as you moved, your eyes falling on Nanami, who stood rigid, his face a mask of exhaustion and grief. Geto Suguru leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his own weariness mirrored in his posture. He looked over Haibara’s body, as though he was in a trance. He was shell–shocked, you think.

"That’s enough." you said, your voice calm but firm, the weight of your past mixing with the present. You couldn’t watch this play out the same way it had before. "This isn’t about blame. None of this is about whose responsibility it is to fix things."

Nanami flinched slightly at the sound of your voice, his jaw tightening as he avoided your gaze. But you knew what he was feeling because you had been there. You had stood in his shoes, grappling with the same rage, the same helplessness, when you lost Namie.

"It’s not Gojo–kun’s fault, you know that." you continued, stepping closer, your voice softer now. "And it’s not yours. Haibara’s death wasn’t something you could have prevented. Not under these circumstances."

Nanami's fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his body radiating outwards. "I could have, senpai." he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should have."

"No." you said firmly, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "This wasn’t on you. Don’t let the guilt consume you, Nanami. I’ve seen it before, and I know where it leads."

The memories of Kaiko haunted you, the way grief had hollowed her out, leaving her with nothing but resentment and bitterness. You couldn’t let that happen to Nanami. Not again. This doesn’t have to continue. No one else has to suffer.

"Listen to Geto–kun, okay?" you added, your gaze softening as you looked at him. "We all feel helpless. But turning against each other won’t bring Haibara back."

Nanami’s shoulders slumped slightly, the tension in his body giving way to something closer to defeat. He didn’t respond, but you knew your words had reached him. Turning away from them, you took a breath and steel yourself. You still had one last thing to do, no matter how much it hurt.

You had to say goodbye to Haibara.

You walked out of the room, the heaviness of the conversation weighing on your shoulders. You pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway, your emotions a turbulent storm beneath the surface. Your eyes immediately caught sight of Satoru, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed.

You knew, just by the way he stood, that he had heard everything. There was no need for words. His expression wasn’t the usual carefree mask he wore—it was more serious, though his eyes were still bright behind his dark shades, silently watching you.

You sighed, your frustration and exhaustion bubbling up. Without a word, you stepped closer to him and gently placed your hands over his ears, your palms lightly cupping the sides of his head. The sudden movement caught him off guard, and his eyes widened, blinking in surprise. He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to understand what you were doing.

Don’t listen, you mouthed, your lips forming the words slowly and deliberately, knowing he would understand.

For a moment, Satoru just stared at you, his gaze flickering between confusion and something softer, almost curious. His lips pressed into a flat line, and after a heartbeat of silence, he nodded, an unspoken agreement passing between you.

He wasn’t going to argue. Not this time.

You let your hands fall from his ears, giving him a weary look. There was nothing more to say. You both knew the weight of everything that had happened, and for once, Satoru didn’t push. He just stood there, understanding what you couldn’t put into words. The hallway stretched ahead of you, quiet and still, but the heaviness lingered in the air.

You let your hands fall from Satoru's ears, giving him a weary look. There was nothing more to say. You both knew the weight of everything that had happened, and for once, Satoru didn’t push. He just stood there, understanding what you couldn’t put into words. The hallway stretched ahead, quiet and still, but the heaviness lingered in the air.

The two of you wandered outside in silence, the weight of recent events hanging heavily between you. The cold night air bit at your skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the emotions you both carried. You led the way toward the vending machines just outside the building, the quiet hum of them the only sound in the stillness.

You didn’t need to look at Satoru to know he was thinking about everything that had happened. It was rare for him to be this quiet, this subdued. You pressed the buttons on the machine without a word, watching the drinks tumble down with a soft thud. You handed one to him, the cold condensation clinging to your fingers as you took your own.

Satoru cracked open the can, the fizz breaking the silence between you. You took a slow sip of your drink before finally speaking.

“It’s not your fault, you know.” you said quietly, your voice steady but carrying the weight of someone who had seen this all before. "You can’t blame yourself for what happened."

Satoru didn’t respond right away. He took a long drink, his gaze fixed on the horizon, the usual brightness in his eyes dimmed by something heavier, more complex. He leaned against the vending machine, one hand loosely holding the can, the other shoved in his pocket. His shades were off now, dangling from his collar.

“I think it is, Genmei–senpai.” he finally said, his voice low, almost resigned. His gaze drifted down to the ground. “If I were just a little stronger, a little faster... if I had trained them better, maybe… maybe they wouldn’t be dead.”

Your chest tightened. You had heard these words before, a thousand times in different voices. From yourself, from others who had lost people they cared about. It was the familiar cycle of grief and guilt. Gojo Satoru doesn’t easily fuss over his feelings. This was the first time truly, you think, that he’d willingly told you what he felt. Without you having to ask. In a way, you think that has reminded you of yourself, even for a little bit.

"You can't control everything, Gojo–kun." you replied softly, stepping beside him. "Not even you. It wasn’t your decision to send them on that mission. You weren’t the one who messed up the intel. And you’re not the one who could have stopped it from going wrong."

He clenched his jaw, clearly wrestling with the weight of his own thoughts. Gojo Satoru—the strongest sorcerer alive, the one who always acted like nothing could touch him—was grappling with the very human feeling of failure. It was a rare sight, one that he kept hidden behind his usual bravado. But here, in the quiet, there was no mask to hide behind.

"Being strong doesn’t mean being able to protect everyone. That’s impossible." you added, your voice quiet but firm. "Trust me, I know. We all do."

Satoru stared at his drink, the carbonation slowly rising to the surface. He let out a long breath, his fingers tightening around the can as if holding on to something he couldn’t quite grasp.

"I don’t know if I can ever believe that, you know?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "If I’m not strong enough to protect them, then what’s the point of being the strongest?"

You didn’t answer right away. You let his words hang in the air, knowing that there was no simple reply that could ease his burden. The truth was, you understood. You had felt the same way when your precious Namie died, when Amanai Riko  was killed. The strength to protect felt meaningless when it failed you.

But you also knew that blaming yourself for every loss would only eat away at you, piece by piece. And you knew better than to wallow in it all. You wouldn’t be able to get up from your bed if it's all that consumes you. You didn’t want your dreams. You wanted to be awake. In your dreams, it was regret. In your reality, it was moving forward. And you’d choose a thousand cigarettes then see Namie’s eyes look at you like that again. You’d choose days awake rather than seeing Kaiko take her last breaths right in front of you again.

"The point, Gojo–kun," you finally said, your voice softer now, "is that you’re human. No matter how strong you are, no matter what kind of power you have, you’re still human, Gojo–kun. And that means sometimes... you’ll fail. It doesn’t make you any less strong. It just makes you... you."

He looked at you then, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his bright cerulean eyes—an acknowledgment, maybe. He didn’t argue, didn’t dismiss your words like he normally would. Instead, he just took another sip of his drink and nodded slightly.

“Maybe……” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

You stood there in the quiet, the weight of your conversation lingering in the cold night air. For once, there were no easy answers, no quick fixes. Just two people, sharing a drink, carrying the same burden of loss.

You tilted your head back slightly, looking up at the night sky. The stars were faint tonight, dimmed by the city lights, much like how everything felt dulled in the aftermath of grief. You took another sip from your drink, letting the cool liquid ground you in the present, away from the spiraling thoughts of what could have been.

After a long silence, you spoke again, your tone quieter, almost contemplative. "You know, you don’t always have to carry everything by yourself, Gojo–kun."

He glanced at you, but didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still clouded with that familiar weight.

"I know you feel like it’s all on you, Gojo–kun." you continued, turning your gaze to him. "Like you're responsible for every life, every outcome. But you're not. And it’s okay to feel... this way. To feel like you’ve failed. But that doesn’t mean you have."

Satoru stared at the ground, the quiet stretching on for a few heartbeats. Then, without looking at you, he spoke, his voice softer than before. “You say that like you don’t carry it, too.”

Your grip on the can tightened slightly. You felt the truth of his words settle uncomfortably in your chest. You did carry it—always had. The weight of those you couldn’t save, the memories of missions gone wrong, the faces of the dead. You carried them all, and sometimes it felt like too much. But that wasn’t something you would admit to easily.

"You’re right. Your senpai’s a hypocrite." you said after a pause, your voice barely above a whisper. A weary smile on your lips. "I do, don’t I? But I’m learning how to let some of it go. To not let it destroy me…..I have to learn, as you do.”

Satoru finally looked at you, his gaze searching, as if he was trying to understand something he couldn’t quite grasp. There was a vulnerability in his expression, one that he rarely let show. You know that you knew the answer. And so does he. But it was easy to ignore, when you’re given the world to carry.

"How?" he asked, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

You looked away, your eyes drifting back up to the sky. "By realizing that it’s not all on me. That I’m not the only one who’s hurting. And by letting people in, even when I don’t want to. It’s not easy, and I’m still figuring it out... but I’m trying."

Satoru was silent, processing your words. You knew how hard it was for him to let people in, to show any weakness. He had built walls so high that even those closest to him struggled to see through them. But here, in this quiet moment, you could feel those walls cracking, if only just a little.

“I guess I’ll have to try that sometime.” he muttered, his lips curling into a faint, tired smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You smiled back, though it was small and fleeting. "You could start now, you know."

Satoru let out a soft laugh, the sound almost bitter, but there was a hint of something lighter underneath it. He took another sip of his drink, shaking his head slightly. "You’re asking a lot of me right now, Gen–senpai. You know that?"

"I’m just asking you to be human, Gojo–kun." you replied softly. “Just be yourself.”

The silence that followed wasn’t as heavy as before. It was the kind of quiet that settled between people who understood each other, who didn’t need to fill the space with empty words.

After a while, Gojo Satoru straightened up, his usual mask of nonchalance slipping back into place. But something had changed, even if just a little. He glanced at you, a glimmer of his old self returning to his eyes.

"Alright." he said, pushing off from the vending machine. "I’ll try not to carry everything on my back... but don’t expect me to go soft, okay? Can’t have everyone thinking I’m losing my touch."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at your lips. "Wouldn’t dream of it, Gojo–kun."

He chuckled, tossing his empty can into the recycling bin with a casual flick of his wrist. “Good. Now, how about we get out of here? There’s only so much doom and gloom a guy can take. I wanna go and eat some burgers! Oh, oh and have a milkshake. Come on Gen-senpai! Don't be such a slow poke!”

You watched as he started walking away, his usual swagger returning to his step. Despite everything, despite the grief and the guilt, he was still Satoru Gojo. And that, in its own way, was comforting. You lingered for a moment, finishing off your drink before following him. The weight of the night hadn’t disappeared, but somehow, it felt a little easier to bear now.

epilogue

The afternoon sun bathed the park in a warm, golden glow, casting everything in a soft light that made the moment feel almost timeless. It was a day without expectations or duties—a rare occasion for you and Satoru, a time when neither of you needed to be the strongest sorcerers alive. Instead, you were just yourselves, surrounded by the warmth of your little family.

You sat on a bench under the shade of a sprawling tree, the leaves swaying gently in the breeze. From your seat, you watched Tsumiki and Megumi, their carefree laughter ringing out as they chased each other across the grass.

Fushiguro Megumi’s small smile hinted at how much he enjoyed these quiet moments with his sister, even though he pretended to let her win. His protectiveness over Tsumiki was subtle but undeniable, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched their innocent game unfold.

Beside you, Satoru was sprawled out lazily on the bench, his sunglasses resting atop his head, soaking in the warmth of the sun. Satoshi, your energetic bundle of joy, was clinging to his father’s arm, trying to climb him like he was a human jungle gym. The sight of Satoru—so relaxed and utterly at ease—was a rare one, a moment where he let down his guard completely.

“Baby!” Satoru said, glancing over at you with a mischievous grin. “I think our son’s trying to take me down. Think he’s got the makings of a future jujutsu sorcerer?”

You chuckled, brushing a few strands of Satoshi’s hair out of his eyes. “Maybe he’s just training to be strong like you, don’t you think?” you teased, giving Satoru a playful look. “You’ll have to watch out—he might surpass you one day.”

Satoru sat up dramatically, hoisting Satoshi into his lap. “Surpass me? Oh no, not on my watch!” He declared, tickling your son until Satoshi was giggling uncontrollably. “Satoshi, my little dawn, promise me you won’t steal my title as the strongest!”

Gojo Satoshi, between fits of laughter, batted at his father’s chest. “Papa! No tickle!”

The sound of your son’s pure joy, Satoru’s playful antics, and the peace of this moment filled your heart. For once, there was no looming threat, no mission pulling you away. It was just the simple beauty of a family enjoying a sunny day.

Megumi, a little winded from chasing his sister, wandered over with his usual stoic expression, though you could see the faintest trace of a smile. You couldn’t resist teasing him. “Are you done showing off?”

Megumi shrugged, his tone as nonchalant as ever. “I wasn’t showing off. Tsumiki just needed to win.”

Satoru reached out and ruffled Megumi’s hair affectionately. “Such a gentleman. You’re really going soft on your sister, huh?”

Though Megumi swatted Satoru’s hand away, his eyes softened. “......She deserves it” he mumbled, trying to keep his fondness for Tsumiki hidden.

Tsumiki, noticing the conversation, ran over, her cheeks flushed from the chase. She flopped down onto the grass beside Megumi, leaning against him with a contented sigh. The two siblings sat close together, exchanging quiet smiles. You could see how much they meant to each other—the bond that had formed between them was one of the most precious things in your life.

Satoru stretched out his legs, balancing Satoshi on his knee. “You know, I think this is nice.” he said, his tone suddenly thoughtful. “We should do this more often.”

You turned to look at him, curious. “Do what? Actually relax?”

He chuckled softly. “Yeah. I like this better—just us. Just our little family, you know? No titles, no missions. Just being.”

There was something so genuine in the way he said it. You leaned into him slightly, reaching for his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours. “I like this too, you know?” you said softly, squeezing his hand.

He smiles back at you with the most beautiful, warm gaze. He squeezes your hand back. “I know.”

Megumi and Tsumiki sat quietly, watching your interaction with curiosity but not interrupting. You could tell they were starting to understand the unspoken bond you and Satoru shared—the love that transcended the roles you played in the world.

Satoru let out a soft sigh, leaning back against the bench, tugging you closer. Satoshi, who had grown tired from all the excitement, settled comfortably in his father’s lap, his small hands gripping Satoru’s shirt. The park, bathed in the soft afternoon light, seemed to wrap you all in a blanket of calm.

“If you weren’t around to keep me sane…..” Satoru mused, glancing over at you. “I might’ve forgotten what a day off even feels like.”

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure you’d figure it out. You’ve always been good at pretending the world’s problems don’t exist.”

Satoru grinned, though there was a softness to his voice. “Maybe. But this…” He looked down at Satoshi, then over at Megumi and Tsumiki, who were now engrossed in their own conversation. “This is real. This is what matters.”

His words struck a chord in you. For so long, your lives had revolved around the constant threat of danger, the weight of responsibility. But here, at this moment, it was just the four of you—your makeshift family—enjoying a quiet afternoon in the park.

Leaning into Satoru’s warmth, you whispered, “Yeah, this is what it’s all about.”

The park’s hum continued around you: the distant laughter of children, the rustling leaves, and the occasional chirp of birds. But in your little bubble, time seemed to slow down. For a moment, there was no past, no future—just the present, where everything felt exactly as it should.

You rested your head on Satoru’s shoulder, Satoshi nestled between you both, and Megumi and Tsumiki chatting softly beside you. In this quiet, peaceful moment, you realized that despite the chaos of your lives, these simple, precious moments made all the struggles worth it.

And for now, that was more than enough.

[shortnotsweet]

[ “REMEMBER WHEN” ]:

I CAN STILL SEE YOU AT THE PLACE OUT THERE WHEN I CLOSE MY EYES. DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN WE FELT LIKE THE ONLY TWO ALIVE? DON’T LET ME BE ONE OF THE PEOPLE WHO SEEKS A LOST ROMANCE. WOULD YOU GO AND DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN GIVEN THE CHANCE?

— WALLOWS, NOTHING HAPPENS (2019)

Laena had known Rhaenyra since the two were only girls. They were the closest of friends—closer, even—under the watchful eyes of the castle and the upturned nose of the queen. Queen Alicent had a lovely face befitting for a lady and a brittle, jealous demeanor appropriate for a wicked stepmother. As much as Rhaenyra was drawn to her, she equally sought reprieve. Laena hardly worried, however, as Rhaenyra had the men, steel, and fortitude to rescue herself. It was only a matter of time.

In this AU, Rhaenyra’s older stepmother, Alicent, remains a contrary source of vitriol, intrigue, and affection. Her fixation on her stepdaughter evolves, until her envy is not only of her, but those who love her and are loved in return. Laena is clearly one of those people, and has earned the favor of the nobility in her own right. She wears gowns of silver, blue, and gold, and will become one of the most revered dragon riders of their generation. What else can she inspire but awe and envy? To Rhaenyra, it seems that tenderness is there, and maybe relief. Fondness is the word. It leaves a bad, coppery taste in Alicent’s mouth. Alicent doesn’t have hardly anyone to be fond of in this wretched place. Her children, perhaps, however many she’ll have. Or her husband, her father, or noble, dejected Criston Cole. And—well. No. It’s out of the question. Still. What compares to the camaraderie of shared girlhood? Like knows like, a dragon and dragon sharing the sky.

Laena is Rhaenyra’s first love and closest friend, and the two toe an ambiguous line between platonic and romantic. While they may never wed, their affinity towards one another is an open secret and there is an implicit understanding between families that should Rhaenyra be forced to wed Laena’s brother, arrangements will be made. It is, after all, hardly the first time such agreements have been enacted. Alicent is disgusted, of course; marriage between and man and woman should stay that way. She’s seen the wandering eyes and shared smiles, and something low in her gut twists in revulsion, and for some reason, hurt. Why are they free to do what they want and with whomever they please? No one is free here, not even the blood of the dragon.

Laena and Rhaenyra are both young women, not quite adults yet. In this imaginary timeline, Rhaenyra enjoys a relatively smooth few years before she is forced to take up a sword against traitors and defend her own right to the throne. Despite their complicated history, Alicent’s role in a usurpation attempt on Rhaenyra’s crown has been discovered. Laena reassures her not only of her own conviction and loyalty, but reminds her of the gossip and hurt Alicent has inflicted in the past, rooted in her own resent.

[jokeroutsubs]

Joker Out Masterpost for new fans

New fan of Joker Out? Say no more! 

Getting to know a new artist you’ve found can be intimidating if it’s all in another language, so we’ve compiled some of our favourite interviews, articles and lore here! You’ve arrived in a wonderful fanbase, welcome from all of us here at JokerOutSubs! 

If you’d just like a short overview of the band and their history, you can watch this excellent Finnish summary of them that we’ve translated (14m 53s).

But if you want to dive into the details, then check out our timeline, full of videos and articles translated by JokerOutSubs! 

Timeline graphic:

Timeline in details below the cut 👇

Timeline in details: 

How did the band form? 

Joker Out was formed from two bands, Apokalipsa and Buržuazija. 

Apokalipsa included Bojan Cvjetićanin (vocals), Martin Jurkovič (bass) and Matic Kovačič (drums) 

They gained some traction with young people around Slovenia, particularly with their song 'Mogoče' ('Maybe'), which you can watch on YouTube here.

They came to the attention of Kris Guštin, who was inspired to start learning guitar! He discusses the details in this video (at 9:40). 

Kris then met Jan Peteh, another student of his guitar teacher, and at their teachers advice, they formed the band Buržuazija. 

Bojan attended their second ever gig in 2016, and decided these two excellent guitarists were exactly what had been missing from Apokalipsa, as he wasn’t happy with their current guitarists. He asked them to join, and they accepted

The new lineup (Bojan, Jan, Kris, Martin and Matic) decided to rename themselves Joker Out. The name means nothing, but they thought it sounded good and was the ‘least horrible’ of all the ideas they could think of. 

So, in 2016, Joker Out was officially formed! 

November 2016, Kot srce ki kri poganja: 

Joker Out’s first music video was for their song ‘Kot srce ki kri poganja’ ('Like a heart that pumps blood'), filmed in Jan’s hometown of Vrhnika! We eventually got this song on Spotify on their 2023 album Live from Arena Stožice!

Music video: Kot srce ki kri poganja

English Interview (from 3:37 to 6:05): Joker Out discusses filming the music video

June 2017, Špil Liga:

One of the earliest performances for Joker Out was at Špil Liga, a competition for young bands in Slovenia. They won, and recorded their winning song, Omamljeno telo (intoxicated body) in November as part of the prize. 

Live (33m): Joker Out at Špil liga

Interview (5m): Reflections on Špil Liga in 2023 

c.2017/18, Bojan’s attempt at going solo:

The band took a hiatus c.2017/18, and Bojan considered going solo at that time, even working with a few producers. He eventually realised that he belonged with the band! Hear him tell the story:

Reel (1m 23s): A1 Vajb - Bojan’s fail

2019, A change up for the band:

The band began working with their current producer, Žare Pak, and their videographer Mark Pirc, in 2019 - both of whom have been referred to as the sixth member of the band. This led to a change in their sound and production quality, which culminated in ‘Gola’ ('Naked'), the first of their songs to be a big hit!

Music video: Gola

Zlata piščal ('Golden Flute') - Best New Artist 2019:

Joker Out won their first Zlata piščal award in 2019, for best new artist (one of many they’d go on to win!) This is a kind of Slovenian Grammy! Covid interrupted the proceedings, but you can see their interview for it here (3m 59s)- 

Interview: Joker Out wins a Zlata piščal ('Golden Flute') for Best New Artist 2019

Umazane misli, and a new member: 

During the Covid times, the band began recording their first studio album, 'Umazane misli' ('Dirty thoughts'), which was originally going to be released in March 2020 but was repeatedly delayed until October 2021. The first half was recorded with drummer Matic Kovačič, but the band felt they needed something extra and brought in Jure Maček to help write the arrangements. They loved him so much, he never left! 

Interview (from 10:40 to 11:36): Bojan talks briefly about Jure joining the band

COVID times, and Cvetličarna: 

The band had arranged to do two concerts at Cvetličarna, a very important venue in Slovenia and a big break for them. This was delayed several times due to Covid, but eventually managed to go ahead in October 2021 for the release of their first album. 

Video (1m 14s): Cvetličarna promotional video

Live (1h 28m): Joker Out at Cvetličarna

Interview (34m 55s): Bojan discusses Cvetličarna, its importance, and Covid

Umazane misli album launch: 

'Umazane misli' was extremely well received! The band would go on to win two more Zlata piščal awards, Newcomers of the Year in 2020 and Artist of the Year in 2021.

Interview (37m 08s): Umazane misli album presentation

An acting career for Bojan? 

Around the same time as 'Umazane misli' was released, Bojan began considering an acting career. He acted in two episodes of the series ‘Gospod Professor’ and in another series, which was eventually reworked as a film called ‘Kaj pa Ester’ and released in December 2023. He decided music was his passion though, and he wanted to fully focus on that. 

Interview (from 10:04 to 11:30): Bojan discusses his acting career

Interview (2m 11s): Kaj pa Ester interview

Interview (2m 30s): Kaj pa Ester première

Article: Bojan on Kaj pa Ester

September 2022, Križanke:

The band got straight to work writing their second album, 'Demoni' ('Demons'), and decided to present it in September 2022 at Križanke, another hugely important venue in Slovenia. This whole concert wasn’t recorded, but we have an interesting advertisement they did for it, an interview and a clip of one song live from Križanke! 

Video (5m 4s): Full Joker Out Hotline trailers

Interview (2m 16s): Joker Out with parachutes to Križanke?

Live (4m 7s): 'Novi val' ('New wave') live at Križanke

Interview (44m 35s): Demoni album presentation

Another new member! 

After Križanke at the end of 2022, Martin Jurkovič, one of the founding members of the band, made the decision to leave to focus on his studies.

Video (2m 20s): Martin's departure

Thankfully, he was replaced by the wonderful Nace Jordan, who remains the bassist in the current lineup.

Article: Nace Jordan discusses joining the band

2023, Eurovision:

Joker Out were then internally selected to go to Eurovision 2023, and began recording their Eurovision song, 'Carpe Diem', in Hamburg in December 2022. To learn more, you can watch the Carpe Diem series, a documentary series which followed their entire journey. 

The first episode, recording Carpe Diem, can be found with subtitles in multiple languages by JokerOutSubs!

Video (16m 41s): Carpe Diem Ep. 1 - Hamburg

The band performed their song for the first time live on Misija Liverpool, a televised debut, on the 4th February 2023.

Video (27m): Joker Out performing at Misija Liverpool

There are quite literally hundreds of interviews with Joker Out during the Eurovision era. Here's one from just before the final, that we have translated.

Interview: Joker Out before the final on the 13th May

And a few English interviews that became famous in the fanbase! 

Interview (24m 29s): Eurovanja

Interview (8m 10s): Seize the Day situations

Interview (17m 18s): Tiktok Live

Interview (6m 30s): ‘Never have I ever’

Interview (14m 12s): Madrid Eurovision

Result

Joker Out came 21st at Eurovision, which they were satisfied with.

Interview (1m 36s): Bojan talks about their results

European tour and Sunny Side of London (22nd September)

Luckily, the best was still to come for Joker Out! The rest of 2023 was spent on an extremely successful European tour, and they also released their first English single, 'Sunny Side of London', in September. 

We at JokerOutSubs were also thrilled to interview the band twice on their tour!

Original Interview (15m 25s): JokerOutSubs interview in Tampere

Original Interview (14m 37s): JokerOutSubs interview in Poznań

6th of October 2023, Stožice:

All of this, however, was building up to Stožice. This is the biggest closed venue in Slovenia and Joker Out managed to sell out their October show there - an extremely important milestone for Slovenian artists. 

Interview (15m 4s): Stožice and their whirlwind post Eurovision career

Live: Full concert live-streamed part 1 and part 2

A lovely moment at Stožice was when former members Martin Jurkovič and Matic Kovačič joined the band onstage to perform 'Kot srce ki kri poganja'!

Interview (2m 4s): Martin and Matic discuss the experience

Interview (5m 9s): Joker Out post Stožice impressions

London era and Everybody’s Waiting: 

Joker Out spent the beginning of 2024 in London, where they wrote new music, did live cooking shows on Instagram and met the incredibly talented photographer, Damon Baker, who did a beautiful series of photoshoots with them. They also released their next English single, 'Everybody’s Waiting', in February. 

They sat down with us at JokerOutSubs to discuss all this on the 20th February!

Original Interview (59m 13s): JokerOutSubs interview in London

March and April 2024, ‘See you soon’ tour:

The boys then embarked on the ‘See you Soon’ tour, another very successful European tour. They played three new songs live during the tour, two of which we translated from the concert videos of our members!

Live:  First performance of 'Bluza' ('Blouse')

Live: First performance of the hugely popular 'Šta bih ja' ('What would I')

We at JokerOutSubs also interviewed the band a fourth time in Padova!

Original Interview (22m 7s): JokerOutSubs interview in Padova

Now you know a little bit about Joker Out’s history, let’s look a little bit at the members of the band as individuals! 

Who are the members?

Bojan Cvjetićanin - singer

Charming, charismatic and an all round green flag, deep down we’re all Bojan girlies! See him here on Cosmopolitan's Blind date, Portrait with Coffee and a lovely interview he did for Delo! 

Interview (8m 49s): Cosmopolitan's Blind date

Interview (18m 3s): Portrait with Coffee

Article: “If we believed that we were “kings”, that wouldn’t be us”

Jan Peteh - guitarist

The mysterious mathematician of the band, Jan and his cat Igor have stolen the hearts of the fanbase. Here he is on Undercover Mathematician and on Metropolitan podcast with ex bassist Martin! 

Interview (3m 26s): Undercover mathematician

Interview (43m 57s): Jan and Martin on Metropolitan podcast

Kris Guštin - guitarist

Known for his organisational expertise, 'slay pose' and 'cake baking skills,' Kris stays fabulous on and off stage!

Video (1m 5s): NGVOT backstory (Kris’ breakup) at Cvetličarna

Article: Interview with the entire Guštin family

Jure Maček - drummer

Described consistently by his band mates as ‘čaga’ (party), Jure brings a chaotic energy to Joker Out that we love to see!

Video (41s): Jure’s cheating (in school!) story

Interview (18m 3s): Sunday Chat on Radio 94

Nace Jordan - bassist

The oldest member of Joker Out, Nace is a genuine sweetheart who fit like a glove into Joker Out despite joining much later! 

Article: "Enriched by a special [Eurovision] experience"

Interview (18m 24s): Interview with JokerOutSubs in Umag

Get to know the whole band! 

They mostly do interviews together, so here are some of our favourites!

Interview (16m 52s): Vičstock Unplugged

Video (7m 3s): Joker Out pre-Križanke Instagram Q&A compilation

Interview (54m 42s): Multisciplinary panel at Bežigrad High School

Article: Joker Out for DELO

Article: Joker Out for Mladina magazine

Interview (6m 42s): Joker Out for RTV SLO

Interview (1h 1m): Joker Out for N1 podkast

We hope you’ve enjoyed learning a bit more about our favourite band! 

If you’d like even MORE translated interviews, articles and Instagram stories, you can find us on Tumblr, X, Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, YouTube and Spotify under the name JokerOutSubs!

P.S: If you wish to share this post with new fans, we also provided QR codes!

[dykeknightrises]

FALLING

A/N: Sooo, I never actually wrote anything like this, but this one pretty much wrote itself randomly in my brain and I kinda liked it! So I appreciate any feedback I can get and I really hope you guys enjoy it :)

(Also english is not my first language. I did check it but something may not be quite right )

Next parts: Part 2 - PROMISES Part 3 - US

She smelled like the sun. Whether this is a real thing or not, Y/N didn’t care. Right now, buried under and completely surrounded by her, Y/N would vow on whatever entity really existed that Alexia smelled like the sun.

It wasn’t always the case. Before, Alexia smelled like comfort, maybe even a little bit like being under the covers, a mug of hot chocolate between her hands while the rain poured outside. Now everything changed. Now she smelled like summer, like the water wetting your feet right on the edge on the sand on a hot day spent on the beach.

The in-between of then and now, and even the before that, if Y/N was being honest, was a rollercoaster of joy, happiness, heartbreak, and sadness. Falling for Alexia was far too easy and almost a habit for her, she had been doing that for years now.

Y/N first fell in awe of Alexia when she watched her play her first u-17 Euros, back in 2010, when she was just fifteen. Even when the Young Lionesses didn’t go very far, Y/N managed to convince her parents that they absolutely had to stay for the whole tournament. 

Alexia was still a wide-eyed teenager, shy to give interviews and speak up, but so confident and skilled in the pitch that Y/N could not helped but to feel in absolute awe. It wasn’t even a question that the midfielder would be a great player and it wasn’t even a question that Y/N would start to keep up with her career the best she could, she would even use the poor excuse that the shared their position when her friends bugged her too much about it.

Y/N first feel in admiration with Alexia when she played against her during the 2012 u-19 Euros. Despite being only fifteen, Y/N was called up when someone got injured and even made the line-up for the game against Spain.

Ninety brutal minutes later that resulted in England being eliminated, Alexia made sure to speak and praise every single one of her opponents. That was the first time they ever spoke. Y/N wasn’t even sure if Alexia remembered that, but the praise the older girl gave her and the sheer amount of respect she was given made her admire Alexia as a player on a whole new level.

The “See you in a Champions League game.” that the older girl said goodbye with echoed in her head for years, until the moment she signed with Arsenal as her first professional contract a couple of years later. Y/N really hoped to play against Alexia again.

Y/N first fell in respect with Alexia in Budapest, during the Champions League final in 2019. Despite the overwhelming loss from the start, she watched as Alexia gave her blood on the pitch. One of the most agonizing games Y/N had ever watched, being able to even taste the desperation while surrounded by thousands of culés ins the stands.

She watched the absolute heartbreak the team faced, the broken stares as they watched Lyon lift the Champions League cup again. She watched as the twenty-five years old fourth captain picked her teammates up, reassured them and listened to them. She watched the midfield swallow her own despair and angst to take care of her teammates, as a captain and leader would. Y/N could help but to respect the Catalonian as player, as person. Not everybody can do that.

Y/N first fell in fondness with Alexia when she was the first to make her feel at home in Barcelona. Leaving Arsenal and home behind was terrifying, even if Lucy and Keira were in Barcelona too. It’s a new city, a new culture, a new language, new teammates, and a new sense of self.

Arriving and settling in Barcelona was easy, but fitting in and becoming a part of the team was much harder. Spending so many countless evenings and night trying to learn the language that Y/N began to neglect herself a little bit seemed like a small price to pay to be in the team. It wasn’t until Alexia herself asked to speak to you, realizing that you were unconsciously closing yourself off until you were “ready” that you realized what you were doing. Upon seeing the realization in your eyes and knowing that her mission was complete, the older woman slipped a bar of your favourite chocolate over and left with a squeeze on your shoulder.

After that, it wasn’t long until you were a part of the very chaotic Barcelona family. By the time that the Winter Break arrived, the team had settled in a very nice post-practice routine. On Mondays, the guiris got together, helping each other fit with the country. Tuesdays and Wednesdays the whole team holed up at someone’s house, usually Irene’s, and just bonded, going from watching trashy movies to destroying each other on board games. When there were no games on the weekend, the Fridays were for going out on a very non-wild night, just to eat out and spend more time with each other.

Thursdays were sacred. You and Alexia got together, spending the whole time watching old matches, nitpicking plays and dissecting games from opponents or your favourite players. The night usually ending with you cooking, her cleaning and crashing at the bed after taking Nala for her night walk.

Y/N first fell in love with Alexia after the Winter Break, when Alexia was opening the gift, she brought from England. It was a grand thing, but the older woman’s eyes shone so brightly when the Christmas tree’s light sparked that Y/N was sure her heart skipped a beat.

Being in love with Alexia was easy. Between the team’s bonding and their own, all their weekdays were spent together, and Alexia usually dragged Y/N over for lunch with the rest of the Putellas family, where she fit right in. Her days were filled with Alexia’s presence and her nights were filled with dreams of her.

Y/N never entertained the thought of Alexia loving her back. Not she was an asshole or anything, but Alexia was different. Keeping her feelings to herself, not even telling her best friends came naturally, as she knew they would encourage her to try something, but that is just because they didn’t see Alexia like she did.

Friendships with Spaniards were very confusing at first. They were very touchy and very feely and, at first, it made Y/N a bit uneasy to be able the differ when they were hitting on each other and when they were just being friends. She finally settled in taking everything as a friendship moment if she wasn’t told otherwise and left at that.

On a Thursday, instead of watching a game like their usual, Alexia wanted to go dancing. They got ready at arrived at the Sala Apollo when it was already packed, heading to the bar, and having a couple of drinks before the older woman dragged them both to the dance floor. The closeness and intimacy of dancing with each other came easily for them. Letting the heavy bass of reggaeton guide their moves and being pressed together was almost as natural as cuddling on the couch after a movie.

It wasn’t until Alexia’s hands began to wonder that Y/N though better about the whole night. When the older woman’s lips found a spot on her neck and her hands found their place on her hips after squeezing her ass, Y/N was gone. Turning around and kissing Alexia, they were locked in a much wilder dance at that point. Not staying too long after that was natural, as it was sharing a bed of a whole different manner.

Y/N first fell in heartbreak with Alexia when she called their night a mistake. Waking up the next day, surrounded of filled with the midfielder, Y/N smiled and lost herself on the skin of Alexia’s back being hit by sun. Having coffee turned sour on her mouth after Alexia’s words and feeling has heart break on her chest was hard enough, but she could let the older woman know the damage her words had done, she loved her too much for that.

Leaving Alexia’s house that day was one of the easiest and hardest things Y/N had ever done. It was easy because she desperately needed to leave, she needed to let the tears stream down her cheeks away from the other woman’s praying gaze. It was hard because it closed the door on any possibility of the words being a mistake themselves. After promising Alexia, and lying through her teeth, that everything was okay, Y/N left.

People say grieve has five stages. Y/N was no expert, but she was pretty sure that whoever was supposed to go through them was the person grieving, so she didn’t quite understand Alexia’s sudden avoidance. The captain found new teammates to do all the training exercises together, spoke to her only when necessary and cancelled all Their Thursdays for the past few weeks.

A part of her told herself that maybe Alexia felt guilty, maybe she wanted to take the word Mistake back. That part was very strong, it was pulsating, it gave her hope. That part told her to not give up and just give her part.

Y/N arrived just in time on the locker room to overhear Alexia answering a question about a date. Her latest one. On a Thursday. She couldn’t pay a lot of attention to the midfielder answer without had eyes tearing up, so she tried to block the conversation as much as she could, and it was going pretty damn well until she lied to her teeth once again when someone asked if she didn’t mind that the dates where always on a Thursday.

The called up to represent the Lionesses came as a blessing, giving her a break from the club. It was much easier to be her usual self, joke around with her teammates and going on a full-blown prank war against Georgia when she could pretend Alexia didn’t exist. It was also much easing swallowing down her hopes and downloading Tinder when she was sure Alexia would not pop-up on her screen.

Swiping left on all the women that the app showed her was unconscious. Y/N didn’t even realize she was doing that until Leah caught her with the app opened and started to swipe with her. When the captain asked for the billionth time what was wrong with the last woman, the only answer she had to give was that none of them were her. That prompted her to tell her best friend everything. After convincing Leah to not do something stupid, the captain just told you not to worry and that she would find you the perfect date.

 With the time with the national team up, Y/N flew back to Barcelona, smiling as the she sees the city lighting up against the night sky. She barely has time to settle back before Leah texts her that she found her a great date and saying that they will both fly out for the Champions League match in a couple of weeks.

Between trying to find out more information on Leah’s mysterious friend and the sting that came whenever Alexia promptly ignored her, Y/N days passed slowly. It’s easy to distract herself on the days that are occupied by the team, but Thursdays were the worst. The hurt that came the being subbed out of Alexia’s life was just more prominent on these days and Y/N didn’t quite know what to do about it.

The Champions League finally came and with it, Leah and her friend being in town. The date was going to happen the day before the match and Y/N wasn’t sure whether the anxious feeling she had were for the match or for the date.

Getting ready was almost automatic. A nice short black dress paired up with a light makeup as they would go to dinner at a nice restaurant that Y/N absolutely loved. Waiting for the time to go out, she turned the TV on started watching and old match, absently minded remembering that it was a Thursday. Not that any of that mattered anymore.

The doorbell rang just as Ronaldinho scored a goal, making her tear her eyes away from the game. Y/N walk to the door in confusion, not expecting anyone today. The team was doing their own Thursday thing and Leah was out with Lucy and Keira, leaving literally no one to be at her doorstep at almost eight.

Hazel eyes greeted her upon opening the door. Alexia stood in front of her, in her comfiest hoodie and sweatpants, the beanie tucked in her head, cheeks rosy from the wind. Her gaze, holding hope and a thousand secrets, wandered through you figure, before settling back in your own eyes.

“I was hoping we could have our usual Thursday? I have a lot that I need to say to you.”

[monstercangirlofficial]

Recommending some of my favorite rap songs. As a latin american trans woman, I didn't grow up with rap, but I learned to listen to and appreciate it. These are some great songs I think everyone should hear, and hopefully add to their playlists. These are Spotify links, but you can find these songs elsewhere too. My favorites are in blue:

Pop Rap: She's a Bitch by Missy Elliot (1999); Comfortable (ft. Babyface) by Lil Wayne (2003); Savage (ft. Beyoncé) by Megan Thee Stallion (2020); Too Many Nights (ft. Don Toliver & Future) by Metro Boomin (2022); Never Lose Me (ft. SZA & Cardi B) by Flo Mili (2024)

Classic Rap: My Mic Sounds Nice by Salt-N-Pepa (1986); South Bronx by Boogie Down Productions (1987); Welcome To The Terrordome by Public Enemy (1990); Born and Raised In Compton by DJ Quik (1991); When In Love by MC Lyte (1991)

Gangsta Rap: Gimme the Loot by The Notorious B.I.G. (1994); Cloverland (ft. Botany Boyz) by DJ Screw (1996); The Art of Peer Pressure by Kendrick Lamar (2012); Norf Norf by Vince Staples (2015); Tear Gas (ft. Rick Ross & Lil Wayne) by Conway the Machine (2022)

G-Funk: Nuthin' But A "G" Thang (ft. Snoop Dogg) by Dr. Dre (1992); Funkdafied by Da Brat (1994); It's Supposed to Bubble by UGK (1994); Dusted 'N' Disgusted (ft. 2Pac, Mac Mall & Spice 1) by E-40 (1995); Can't C Me by 2Pac (1996)

Conscious Rap: Proletariat Blues by Blue Scholars (2006); 4 Your Eyez Only by J. Cole (2016); Blood of the Fang by clipping. (2019); Iman (ft. SiR & JID) by Rapsody (2019); I Love You, I Hate You by Little Simz (2021)

Abstract Rap: Accordion by Madvillain (MF DOOM & Madlib) (2000); Mural by Lupe Fiasco (2015); The Punishment of Sisyphus by Hermit and the Recluse (Ka & Animoss) (2018); Magician (Suture) by Milo (2017); Arugula by Junglepussy (2020)

Jazz Rap: Jazz (We've Got) by A Tribe Called Quest (1991); 93 'Til Infinity by Souls Of Mischief (1993); The World Is Yours by Nas (1994); Yesterday by Noname (2016); Live! from the Kitchen Table (ft. Ghais Guevara) by McKinley Dixon (2023)

Trap: Ridin' N' Da Chevy by Three Six Mafia (1999); Love Don't Live (U Abandoned Me) by Gangsta Boo (2001); Kay Kay by Chief Keef (2012); Digits by Young Thug (2016); Poppin by Rico Nasty (2017)

Experimental Rap: Spiritual Healing by dälek (2002); Persistence by Lil Ugly Mane (2015); Ain't It Funny by Danny Brown (2016); Thug Tears by JPEGMAFIA (2018); Superman That by Injury Reserve (2021)

I strongly recommend checking out other songs by these artists, the albums these songs are from, more songs from these genres and others I didn't include, and to explore everything hip hop has to offer (especially hip hop made by women). Feel free to add any artists and songs I (obviously) missed, that you think deserve more love and recognition, particularly independent music. Enjoy!

[kaybreezy3000]

The Pet (A Five Hargreeves / Male Reader Insert)

16714 words, 10 chapters, rated Explicit for dark potentially disturbing themes and sexual content

Realizing that his family were going to be zero help, Five went back to the Commission with one goal in mind. He needed to find out who caused the apocalypse, but as he should have known already, when traveling through time, what you are looking for isn't always what you get. This time, he's taking you down with him.

(Important Note: This is set during Season One. I don't like giving away the whole story in my tags, but don't worry, I am NOT doing a Five as a minor with an adult thing. And the dubious consent thing will also be very interesting, so, you'll just have to read to find out how this one works out, but if you do, I promise it's worth it.)

~~~Originally created for two separate explicit Tumblr requests for a story with Five and a male reader insert, one specifically involving hypnotism in the plot, and Five getting the chance to feel what it means to let go of control for once.~~~

Warnings and Tags: meant to be an intense read, The Handler, Hurt-Angst, Comfort, Sub Five, Dubious Consent, Hypnotism, rough sex, many tags being left off to keep you on your toes until the end, so be warned...it's a dark one. Stay away if not your thing. TY.

The Pet

Chapter one: Prologue

The Handler glanced over her shoulder, looking back at Five. “You would think with all the blood on your hands, doing something as simple as this would’ve been nothing for you, but here you are, stomping along in those cute little schoolboy shorts, looking like a ferocious little puppy that’s about to nip at my heels over something as trivial as details…” 

Five continued watching as the orderlies dragged away their latest victim, but as soon as the other boy was out of sight, his glare turned to the real target of his hatred. “Why didn’t you tell me he was one of us?” he snapped as he stopped next to her. “And even better, what are you going to do with him?” 

The Handler’s smile grew bigger as she looked down at Five like he was the most pathetic thing she’d ever laid eyes on.

Hands trembling, Five’s fingers curled, his fingernails cutting half-moons into his small palms. 

A heat wave of outrage and confusion hit him all over again. 

He could still sense him.

As soon his eyes met that stranger’s, even before they had touched and he had his hands around the other male’s throat, he’d felt a power that was not his own. It was warm, like a blanket wrapping around his entire body, trying to muffle all his senses.

Just before nailing Five in the face, the young man cried out, begging him to let go, and unable to stop himself, Five did let go, but the deed was already done. 

Licking the corner of his lip, Five felt a fresh sting of pain, accompanied by the coppery taste of his own blood, and that only made him more furious. 

Adding insult to injury, rather than reply to his questions, The Handler had dismissively reached into her purse, pulling out a pocket mirror. As she gazed at her reflection, fixing her already perfectly crimson lips, he shook his head in disbelief.

Eyes darting at nothing and everything as he rapidly went over his options, and tried to figure out what was going on, Five concluded that if that kid was like them, based on the year they had taken him, he was only nineteen. Cursing under his breath, his hand raking back through his neatly clipped hair, he also concluded that he never should have agreed to come back with The Handler in the first place. 

None of this should have happened. He had to get back to his family in 2019. They’d find another way to figure out who caused the apocalypse, and as for him… 

“Fuck,” Five quietly cursed again.

Slowly, he started backpedaling, turning away, his hands coming together, the energy needed to open a portal just starting to illuminate his hands. 

His power fizzled out.

“What the ffff-?” Five angrily gasped as he frantically dug at the numbing sensation that was suddenly radiating through the left side of his body. 

Unsteadily spinning back around, Five saw it wasn’t just a tube of lipstick The Handler had in her hand. She’d been hiding a syringe too, just like the one he’d used to sedate the young man they'd just abducted. 

The long hallway began to sway and tilt under his feet. In less than a second, Five’s legs gave out.

Chapter 2: Screw You and Screw Me Too

The smell of bleachy sterilization filled Five’s nostrils as his eyes began to flutter open.

He knew that smell.

Blinded by the unforgiving lights shining down on him, he started to panic. 

He was in the Commission’s lower-level medical wing; the same place they took him when he’d first been recruited and required their so-called ‘improvements.’ Here they had stripped him naked and hosed him down as he cowered in an open shower stall, uselessly trying to cover his privates.

It didn’t matter what he wanted. It didn’t matter how he felt. They treated him worse than an animal. They had said he needed to be decontaminated, but they did so much more than that.

Desperately trying to wake up and think straight, a whimper crawled up from deep in his throat, but the higher pitched sound of the voice that came out of him didn’t match the one of the horrendously traumatized old man that they had been dehumanizing. Lost in his nightmare of memories, that only terrified Five even more. 

As soon as he could make his limbs move, he began to wildly thrash, but just as fast, hands of people dressed in white scrubs came at him, holding him down. Much smaller than them and way outnumbered, Five wasn’t strong enough to break free, and soon, the restraints they’d been securing to his wrists were tightened.

When his power to blink himself out of there evaporated just as fast as he’d summoned it, Five dug the heel of his shoe into the stainless-steel table under him, sending his knee up, nailing one of the orderlies in the nuts. As the man let go of him, one of the women forced Five’s leg back down as she breathlessly asked, “Should we administer another dose to calm him, Sir?”

Readying a tray of shiny instruments, the lead physician tonelessly said, “No. The subject needs to be fully awake for the process to work. What is already in him will keep him from getting away while we are administering the serum. Once we determine it’s working, and he’s gone through the first stages, then we will give him another very small dose that will keep him manageable until she has time to take care of him more permanently.”

Sure that The Handler was close by, Five looked to the interior windows that opened to the hall. She wasn’t there, but he did see someone else. 

In the next operating room, the young man that he'd helped capture was laying there on a gurney, blankly staring back at him. His jaw was slack, and he wasn’t even strapped down, which meant he was totally screwed and there was no way he was getting away either.

“I’m going to kill all of you!” Five yelled as the hefty nurse yanked his head back by his hair, so another demon in scrubs could jam a gag in his mouth.

By the time they had it secured to the back of his head, all he could do was growl at them, but from the corner of his eye, Five saw movement happening over in the operating room, so he looked that way again.

The young man was still looking at him. Like before, gone was that eerie glow of vibrantly changing colors that had been radiating from his otherwise kind looking eyes that had caught Five’s attention even before The Handler pointed him out. Five could no longer feel that strange pull inside his mind telling him not to look away, but still, he couldn’t take his eyes away from what he’d done.

The assistants rolled their other victim on his side, then the physician raised a scalpel to the back of his neck, slicing him open, but for what, Five didn’t know. He didn’t even flinch. A line of drool slipped from his mouth, but there was a glistening of tears in his otherwise empty eyes, meaning he was aware of what was happening, even if he couldn’t feel it.

Just then, The Handler appeared, her body blocking Five’s view of the horrors happening in the other room. Her red lips curled with amusement as the Commission’s medical staff began cutting open his argyle vest, slicing right through it to his dress shirt. Like they were filleting a fish, they peeled back his clothing in layers, exposing his rapidly heaving chest, and the length of his small, stretched out arms.

“I have to give it to you again, Five. You really are adorable like this,” she said, admiring his skin as it turned an offended pink from even the slightest nick from the blade.

Five squirmed uselessly as the nurses moved along, roughly cleaning him with alcohol, not just all along the trunk of his body, and arms, but other places too. 

They took his uniform shorts, then they removed his underwear.

Drinking him in with sick fascination, The Handler ran a finger along Five’s cheek. “Many here think that it would have been easier to keep you in line by making you stay like this, but unlike you, I am a creature of my word,” she explained, then her focus switched to the other room, taking in her other prize before looking back down, her eyes narrowing. “You got me him…so I am going to give you what you want.” Her predatory gaze moved between Five’s legs. “Don't worry. You’ll be a big boy again in no time.”

Repulsed, Five could do nothing but lay there. 

This made no sense. 

She had told him, ‘They are perfecting your body as we speak.’ 

He’d thought that meant they were building a totally different body for him.

This was not that! 

The Handler grinned. “Lucky you that I figured out a way to leash you, because if I hadn’t, you would be lying dead on the road next to your brother’s stolen ice cream truck.” 

As she turned away, the Commission���s head doctor ordered his staff to start inserting dozens of needles into his body.

Frothing on his gag, unintelligible noises screeched out of Five’s mouth as he bucked his hips, frantically fighting against the straps holding him down. Within less than a minute, they had him strung up, with IV’s coming out of him all over the place. Hyperventilating, his eyes wide in terror, he watched them attach bags of fluid to the lines leading into his body. 

The substance crawling through the plastic tubes looked like pure evil, like luminescent clouds of churning black ink.

As the pain started, all Five saw through his blurred tears were the fractured images of the room around him. His teeth bearing down, all he could hear was the sound of what was left of his soul breaking to the backdrop of muffled screams getting louder, and louder.

Chapter 3: Cat and Mouse

Before all this happened, body rigid with tension, Five stared at the marble partition, listening to The Handler shuffling around in the bathroom stall next to him.

“You know, we value integrity above all else,” she said, her voice velvety sweet. “Trust is essential, and that trust is…built over time. But in the event of a breach, the Commission will act swiftly and without mercy.” She purposefully paused, letting that sink in. “I’m sure you, of all people, can appreciate that.”

Saying nothing back to that thinly veiled threat, The Handler’s toilet flushed. Five reached up, needlessly readjusting his already perfectly knotted, standard black academy necktie.

Mentally cursing himself over getting trapped while sitting on the toilet seat like he was taking a shit, Five crossed his arms over his chest, watching her red heels heading towards the sink.

“I’m feeling peckish. Have you eaten lunch?” she casually questioned.

Jaw muscles working overtime, Five shook his head. “Not yet,” he replied through gritted teeth.

The sink squeaked on, the water splashing as The Handler washed her hands. “Great. How would you like to eat with me in my office?”

The water turned off.

Knees bouncing, Five anxiously bit the inside of his cheek as her heels clicked closer.

“You can eat solid foods, and I can live vicariously…” The tips of her sharp fingernails hooked over the door in front of him, followed by the plume of her platinum white hair “-through you,” she finished, as she peeked at him.

Reactively folding in on himself, the stiffness from the file hidden under Five’s vest crinkled. It was just the smallest amount, but it was enough to make her eyes narrow with vicious glee over how fucked he was.

Giving the best smile he could summon, Five cocked his chin at her as confidently as he could, nodding. “Sounds great,” he answered, sounding every bit the liar he was.

Despite her claim of a burnt rugae, and not being able to eat more than liquids, Five knew The Handler was toying with him. This was all part of her sadistic game; one he’d been playing with her ever since she plucked him out of his apocalyptic nightmare.

He knew that his plan of getting in and out of the Commission headquarters and finding out who he needed to take out to stop the apocalypse was quickly going down the crapper if he didn’t find a way to get her off his back.

With no other choice, forty minutes later, cautiously eyeing her, his well-practiced mask of civility in place, Five pushed his cafeteria tray in from the edge of The Handler’s massive desk and folded his hands in his lap.

“Care for a dessert?” she questioned.

“No, thank you.” His lips quirked. “I had a bad twinkie in the apocalypse. Kind of put me off desserts.”

The Handler leaned in, pushing her crystal candy dish in Five’s direction. “Please indulge me,” she insisted. Waiting, she lit her cigarette, taking a long drag as she rocked back in her chair.

Forced to oblige her again, Five moved forward, picking up a tiny foil covered candy from the dish. While he was contemplatively savoring the sugary, Commission engineered flavor that had miraculously captured all the nostalgia of 1955 drug store with their soda fountains and malted milkshakes, the viper in front of him hit her intercom, calling in Carla. Not a minute later, she joined them, setting down a long, flat box on the desk in front of him.

Five quickly stood up as The Handler sauntered around her desk to join him. Blowing a plume of smoke towards the ceiling, she gave a wave of her hand, encouraging him to look inside the package.

He lifted the lid, revealing a black 3-piece suit, one that clearly wasn’t meant for him to wear while in his currently, less than desirable thirteen-year-old body.

“Don’t look so pouty, Five,” The Handler scolded, like he was a real child, not just someone that looked like one. Further patronizing him, she ran the tip of her finger under his chin, making him look at her. “This situation is temporary,” she assured, grinning even more as Five shifted on his feet, but remained under her pitying gaze, with nowhere to go but right where she wanted him. “Just like those delicious candies you just got a taste of. Here at the Commission, we have all sorts of tricks up our sleeves. We can make things the way they were, and better.”

Fighting the urge to blink away, the Handler thankfully dropped her hand before stroking it over his boyishly soft brown hair, petting him, but Five could tell she was about to do it and that was bad enough.

Skin crawling, he scowled.

“Clothes make the man, Five,” she clucked. “Won’t it be nice when you can actually wear it.” Five looked back down at the suit. “Very soon… They’re perfecting your body as we speak.”

Just the sight of the finely tailored men's clothing made Five want to believe what she was saying was true. But hating himself for even considering trusting her again, his stomach sank even further than it already was because it didn’t matter if she was telling the truth.

He wasn’t going to stay with them long enough to find out if they could fix him. What he wanted didn’t matter. All that mattered was saving his family. That was all that ever mattered.

Still, looking at his feet, there was no hiding the twinge of pain he felt twisting around inside of him. “Thank you. It’s a very kind gift,” he softly replied.

Shutting the box, wanting to block all of that out, with his hands burrowing in his pockets, Five turned around, strolling over to admire the Chinese flamethrower he’d noticed on the way in.

With only a small sign of interest in it, soon, he had The Handler proudly showing off her other trinkets she’d gathered while doing the work of the Commission. After that, Five had thought they’d moved past the bathroom incident, so it was the perfect time to carry on with his real agenda.

“Since I am part of the team upstairs now,” he started, “may I make a suggestion?”

“Of course, please do,” The Handler replied as she picked up her Walther pistol, the one Hitler supposedly used to kill himself.

Five smiled cordially as possible, his eyes naturally wandering towards the gun. “Wouldn’t it be simpler for case managers if we removed Gloria from tube operation and did that part ourselves? Isn’t she an unnecessary cog in the wheel?” he questioned, deliberately using his employer’s own words to further his point and hopefully make her think he was buying into all her lines of bullshit.

Moving right past Five’s attempt to shift things in a way he could manipulate them, The Handler laughed. “Gloria has been with us for ages. There is no way we could function without her.” Gun still in hand, holding it up to let Five get a closer look, she leaned in and conspiratorially whispered, “We aren’t supposed to take these things, but…he wasn’t going to use it anymore.”

She straightened after that, the heat of her larger body and the feel of her flared skirt moving away from Five’s backside, but unfortunately the minimal distance from her only made it slightly easier for him to breathe.

“Speaking of the perks of this job,” she said, winking at him. “I know about a place that serves a pie that rivals those candies you were just sucking on.” Metal clicked as she cocked the gun. “Like this death dealing piece of metal here,” she pointed the barrel at him, closing one eye as she aimed. “It's one of a kind.”

It took everything inside Five not to move.

Sniggering over how perplexed he looked, she finally lowered the weapon. “Let's go get you a treat worthy of celebrating your first day back with us,” she said. “Then…” She stepped over, putting her pistol back in its case next to her pile of M26 Vietnam era grenades. “After we get you a proper sugar fix to refuel that brilliant mind of yours, I’ll let you get back to work so you can prove to the rest of upper management why I wasn’t wrong about bringing you back.”

Walking to the door, The Handler picked up one of the Commission’s huge briefcases, extending her hand towards Five.

Slowly coming closer, all he wanted to do was run, but adding to his other mistakes of that day, he didn’t.

Chapter 4: Too Sweet

A few seconds later, Five was inundated by the sounds and smells of a small diner, one that looked like something you’d see back in the 50’s, only a flat screen TV behind the counter was playing a music video, so it was immediately clear that they weren't in that era.

As they stepped up to the podium, a middle-aged woman looked up, greeting them with a tired smile. “Out of school already?” she asked, looking down at Five.

The Handler proudly grinned at Five as she replied, “For him it is, and he’s been such a good boy today, I decided to bring him for a piece of your famous pie.”

“We rarely get to see young faces in here these days, but once you’ve tried our dessert, you’ll be hooked,” the woman said as she led them in, gesturing to a young man that was sitting alone, with his back facing them as he ate at one of the middle tables.

Already irritated, Five snagged a newspaper from one of the uncleared booths as he passed, shaking the crumbs to the floor before he slid into the vinyl covered seat across from The Handler.

“It’s 2008,” he murmured as his eyes moved over the page.

He glanced around again.

Based on what he could see outside, he knew that they weren’t far from the Umbrella Academy.

The Handler had brought him to his family's home turf, only at a time when he wouldn’t have been with them anymore, and most of them weren't living there anymore either, but the question was why?

She never did anything without reason, and this obviously wasn’t about the food.

About to question her, Five was interrupted when a younger server came by, setting down his dessert.

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Five set the paper down, addressing the blonde waitress. “And a cup of coffee. Black,” he said, smiling a little too sweetly.

Apparently not at all charmed, the girl in her later twenties looked to The Handler for approval, and Five could no longer hold in his ire. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looked down at the table.

Sounding tickled as ever over all of this, The Handler approved of his caffeinated beverage, followed by a joke about caffeine stunting his growth, which made Five hate her no less.

Eyes roaming around the diner again, Five noticed it wasn’t very busy. Besides the young man with his headset on who was totally absorbed with something on his laptop, and a few other old couples that were dispersed throughout the restaurant, that was it.

“Here you go, enjoy,” the waitress said, coming around, setting down his steaming mug of coffee.

Picking up his fork, though not at all hungry for the cherries covered in fluff, with his other hand, Five reached for his coffee, bringing it to his lips.

“She was pretty,” The Handler conversationally noted while he quickly drained his cup.

“Who?” Five asked, his fork filled with berries waiting in front of his mouth.

“The waitress,” The Handler replied, sounding even more amused by his oblivious reply.

Five hadn’t even noticed, which again was probably why the evil woman across from him was smirking. It’s not that he didn’t admire a good-looking woman. Dolores was a woman. It was just that-

“It’s unimaginable how lonely it must be…” The Handler dangled, interrupting his depressing thoughts about why it was so hard for him to do much more than look when it came to anyone that he found attractive.

Not taking the bait, Five said nothing, his fork slowly setting down on his napkin with the bite of food still on it.

“You're restless… Discontent. I see that as plain as that cute little nose on your fresh new face,” she furthered.

The tip of her shoe brushed against his knee sock.

Pushing himself back in the booth, as far away from her as he could get, Five looked away, noticing the young man who had been studying at the table next to them was now looking at him, his eyes focused on the crest stitched to the breast of his dark blue Umbrella Academy blazer.

Five loudly cleared his throat and the young man’s startled eyes met his, the look of confusion in them only getting worse. By now, as far as history was concerned, Five would have been missing for six years, not to mention he wasn’t supposed to be a little kid anymore.

“How I feel doesn’t matter,” Five finally said, rebuffing The Handler’s comment, while looking back down at his napkin.

“Sure it does,” she countered just as fast. “A man like you…one whose needs are hardly being met, is a man, tick tick ticking…like a bomb, just waiting to go off.”

Under the edge of the table, Five’s fingers curled into claws that wanted to dig her eyes out. He leveled her up with his glare. “Just spit it out! What you want? We are drawing unwanted attention, and I personally don’t have time for this.”

“Oh, Five, “she tittered. “Why always so dour?”

“Oh, I don’t know… Call it a habit born out of expecting the worst and always getting it.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms over her mounded bodice. “You ask what this is about? Well... It’s like that suit I knew you���d love. I just want to keep my agents happy.”

“Sure you do,” he sarcastically mimicked.

“With that case you had today…” She paused, raising one of her perfectly manicured brows. “Taking care of the Hindenburg with something as simple as seeing to it that a tainted roast was delivered to the right person… Now that was genius, and I expected no less from you. You didn’t pull the trigger, but the success of the job well done was no less satisfying, am I right?”

She was right, but lips pursed tight, Five refused to admit it.

“Be careful, Five. Pride is your Achille's heel, that and that tragic longing you have for acceptance and approval. You try to hide it, but I see right through you.”

About to jump the table and strangle her, Five picked up his fork instead, taking a bite of the flaky crust and berries, angrily swallowing it down as he pretended to be interested in the sticky looking ketchup bottle sitting next to the other condiments.

She’d hit a nerve. And worse, she was still on to him. The file on Dot’s desk covering his apocalypse was empty, and he should have known it would be, but he’d thought The Handler had let that go.

He had to be better than this.

He couldn’t let her get the upper hand this time.

This time, Five had called her, and come to them of his own free will.

This time, he was going to show them what happened when they tried to play God with him and the people he cared about. He just needed to get back to the main office again, so he could do some digging, and then no more Mr. Nice Guy in the cute little schoolboy shorts.

A small smile pulled at his sugar covered lips as he thought about the grenades he saw in her office.

Looking next to him, the kid who had been eyeing him up had started packing up his things.

“You need something to come home to, to fill that void, and scratch that itch,” The Handler pushed, clearly not done with whatever point she was trying to make. “You need something, or maybe better put, someone to exercise your demons.”

With an even worse sensation of unease hitting him, not at all comfortable with where any of this was going, Five looked back at her.

“Someone who knows just how to take care of you…” she said, “someone to turn that frown upside down.”

Five’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t follow.”

“You need a pet, and this place is exactly the kind of place to find the special kind of pet you need, because…” she plucked her sleeve, pulling it up a little so she could look at her watch, “because in just about four minutes, thanks to the gas line leaking under our feet, this place, and everyone in it will be no more. They are all free game.”

The Handler’s malevolent gaze moved to the table next to them, her crimson painted smile more devious looking than Five had ever seen it.

All at once, it dawned on him that she wasn’t talking about a furry sort of pet.

Hands sweating as he drew them up the navy-blue fabric covering his tensed thighs, he shook his head. “No,” he croaked, his voice catching in his suddenly dry throat.

“Don’t be so unimaginative,” she fired back.

“You must be confused, because I have no idea what you are talking about,” he lied.

“Really?” she mocked. “Our assassins come from some very dark places. You included. It’s perfectly understandable that a man like you has particular needs that are not exactly easy to fill, considering your past, and current condition… Relationships of any kind are not exactly where you excel, Five.”

Shifting his legs under the table, Five tried not to let her see how that had sung, but just like the young man next to him, who was waiting for his bill, his fingers anxiously tapping the tabletop, it was obvious that he couldn’t wait to get out of there.

“It’s no secret that others in our employment have taken advantage of their unique positions,” The Handler furthered.

She pointed to the boy as Five watched him nervously swallowing, the dips and curves of his throat slowly moving, the look of it so sinfully alluring that he felt even warmer.

“What do you think of him?” she asked, as if they were discussing an item on the menu, not another person who could probably hear them.

“I don’t think anything,” Five shot back, the shrillness of his voice making the other young male look over at them again, his eyes filled with what Five could for sure see this time was much more than frustration with how long it was taking to get his check.

The implications she was making were already making Five’s stomach roll, the acid of his lunch painfully adding to the forced bites of his pie.

He may have been extremely reclusive during his years working for the Commission, but Five had heard the rumors. Having a life in your hands of someone who was already written off, opened the door for the possibility of all sorts of bad things to go down, other than violent bloodshed.

“I never did that,” Five breathed, thinking about two agents in the locker rooms during training who were telling stories of having their way with their victims before they put a bullet in their heads.

“Oh- Oh, I know. You are much too sweet to do something like that,” The Handler assured, followed by a mocking laugh. “It is quite surprising though that you haven’t given in. You of any of our agents had every reason to,” she said, her tone dripping with saccharin sympathy.

She came forward, her hand reaching out to touch Five’s where it was hotly pressed to the table.

Fingers prying his hand up, flipping it over, she opened his palm, then purred, “You are missing something, Five. You know it. We all know it, and you're dying inside because of it.”

Five looked down at the syringe she’d just placed in his hand. Heat crawled up his neck; his blazer felt like it was a fur lined parka rather than a ridiculously tailored piece of summer wool.

He knew they were watching him all those years he suffered in the apocalypse, alone and on the edge of madness as he clung to the hope that he could get back and end this.

He knew they never stopped watching him, even after he’d signed away what was left of his soul to them.

All he’d ever had was himself, and the emptiness of that sometimes felt so crushing that he could hardly breathe.

Just the feel of The Handler’s fingernails seductively dipping under his cuff, gliding along his Umbrella Academy tattoo, had Five so overwhelmed he was nearly paralyzed, stuck on the verge of either blinking himself away, or falling further into the flood of emotions he was drowning in.

Instead of doing either of those things, he schooled his expression to one of indifference. Unblinking, his reply came out unwavering. “In exchange for the life of all my siblings, I agreed to work for you again, but I do not need or want this, so drop it.”

Looking unconcerned by Five’s refusal, The Handler stood up, her hands coming to her hips, straightening the tufts of sheer fabric that covered her couture A-line skirt. “We are the lucky few that exist out of time, Five. I never settle for subpar out of life, and neither should you. I take what I want, for example, like this Dior dress from the premier 1947 collection.”

“This is over,” he deadpanned, menacingly rising out of the booth as he looked her dead on, ready to kill her.

She burst out laughing. “Five, you are too easy. I was just joking with all that.”

“You were joking?”

“Yes, but tick-tock, we are on the clock. Time to collect what I really came here for, which was that handsome young man over there, only for me, not you. Hop to it. Go get him.”

As soon as the young man she’d been talking about was done signing his bill, the diner’s pen skittered across his table, hitting the floor as he bolted for the door.

“If he gets away, our deal is off. I’ll just get one of my other agents to retrieve him,” The Handler warned, her expression confidently calm as she held the briefcase up, a sign that she meant it. Like always, she held all the power.

Trapped like always, right before he blinked, Five’s hand tightened around the needle in his hand.

Chapter Five: Do Unto Others

Number Five Hargreeves, or the boy as they had called him, was a legend, but he wasn't supposed to be there sitting with that creepy bitch, his smug little face looking at you as he ate his pie. 

Laying there as they implanted their device inside your neck, you heard and saw enough to understand that you were somewhere you shouldn’t be, and he should be there either, but he obviously was, and he wasn’t there because he wanted to be. The restraints made that clear enough, but Five’s verbal threats of killing all of them confirmed it.

Somehow, they knew what you could do, or at least the people in charge there did. When Five had attacked you, you could tell that he was genuinely shocked by it. Seeing him there in that diner, you knew something was wrong. You should have taken off the second you saw him and that woman, but you didn’t, and now you were totally fucked, getting marched along like a mindless solider, there to do their bidding.

As they shoved you inside, looking around your new cage, otherwise known as Five’s shitty apartment, the Commission agents dropped a file on the kitchen table, ordering you to read it. Then they reminded you, that if you didn’t do as you had been told, or if you stepped over the threshold of the exterior door, you would be first electrocuted again, then if that didn’t stop you, and you kept trying to get away, the device in your neck would be manually triggered, and then you’d be dead.

In their hospital, after starting to regain the use of your limbs, the first thing you had done was try to escape, and that was how you knew they weren’t kidding about the electrocution thing. 

As that little Umbrella Academy asshole in the next room howled in agony, your feet hit the floor, your knees coming down on the cold tiles a second later thanks to your body’s refusal to cooperate. Looking down at you as you knelt at her feet, the one they were calling The Handler grinned at you, then she hit a button on a small switch she had concealed in her hand.

It felt like a bolt of lightning struck you in the head, reverberating through your entire body.

“Ssst- Stop-op-pllleeeaa-ssss-tttt-” you stammered as the aftershocks caused your body to spasm and your eyeballs to roll back in your head, getting stuck there, jittering. 

Your teeth clattered together so hard you tasted your own blood, and it hurt so much, you even pissed yourself, but she didn’t care. “Don’t do that again,” she chirped while smiling at you.

No way, you had thought. You weren’t going down like that. 

You almost never did this. You knew it wasn’t right. All you wanted was a normal life before this, but staring at her, your pupils instinctively dilated, the swirl of colors hidden in your irises flamed in outrage. “Let me-!”

You got zapped again before you could even get the words out to compel her to let you go, not that it would have mattered if you had said it, because the shorter, darker skinned, woman that had just came in was looking back at you with the same hypnotic glow of insistence you'd just had in your eyes.

“Relax,” she soothed. “You are going to listen to me now. Do you understand?” 

Your eyes drooped tiredly, and your mind slipped into a fuzzy state of forced contentment. “I understand,” you replied.

The Handler looked at the younger, much more casually dressed woman. “Lila, please tell him exactly what I said to you about how this is going to go from here on out.”

The deep pools of chocolatey brown gazing at you filled with even brighter light, and even through the control she was wielding over you, you still sensed a flicker of something in them, hitting you the way your power normally did when you were the one doing this invasively cruel act. 

She wasn’t the only one invading brains in that room, but she didn’t seem to be aware of that. They didn’t understand exactly how your power worked, or maybe it was just that since it wasn’t hers, she wasn’t able to fully command it the way you could. Either way, this Lila person didn't want to do this and that meant you still had a chance.

Where you were filled with fear, and rage, that thanks to her was now muted to a dull sense of lingering nothing, she was filled with a deep need for love. Thinking so much like Five had been as he came at you at the diner, appearing in front of you in a crackling burst of blue energy and violent momentum, Lila saw no other way. To get what she wanted, she needed to follow the orders she had been given, but with Five, you had seen that it was all a ruse. 

Five had thought he could outwit them. You were just collateral damage getting in the way of a much bigger purpose that was driving him. 

In those sad, pale green eyes, you had seen the end of the world, and him in it, alone. He’d already lived a lifetime of wanting things he’d never have. Being loved didn’t matter.

The glimpse you’d seen of the things Five endured were…

There were no words.

“Get him up,” The Handler demanded, and just like that, you were being lifted off the floor by the nurses that had dragged you in there.

Hardly able to hold yourself up, they supported you between them, your head sluggishly turning towards the room where Five was. He was laying there, totally naked, thrashing, and screaming for help that no one there was going to give him. 

“Look at me,” Lila said, and pulled by the invisible thread she’d already weaved into you, you did, your eyes nothing more than blank slates of light, burning blindly, seeking direction. “Do you know who that is in there?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Good. From here on out, you are allowed to do whatever is necessary to take care of him, to keep him…sated. He is yours, and you are his.”

Making a mistake, she looked at the real woman in charge, for just a fraction of a second, allowing you to come back to yourself enough to process what she’d said in a way that you were sure The Handler did not intend.

“When he arrives back at his apartment in a few hours,” Lila continued, locking eyes with you again, “bind him to you with your power. You will never leave his home, and he is never to leave this timeline unless we say so. Your entire purpose is to see to it that he thinks he wants to be here.”

The words, ‘unless we say so,’ lingered in your head, giving a window of opportunity that you couldn’t quite put together yet, but with that, it was still done. You had no choice. You had to do as she said, and even more awful, you wanted to.

Chapter 6: Hurt

Having cleaned up and changed into some of Five’s old man flannel pajama pants and one of his short-sleeved undershirts, you were sitting at one of his only two wobbly kitchen chairs when the door to his one room efficiency apartment burst open.

In nothing but a hospital gown that they hadn’t even tied closed, they lugged him inside, carelessly throwing him down on his bed with his back facing you. As soon as the two brutes shut his door, Five began to sob, his entire, noticeably larger body, shuddering uncontrollably. 

Gasping for breath like even breathing was hard for him, his left hand moved between his legs, the muscles in his bicep and forearm tensing from the repeated jerking movements of his wrist.

Staring at his bare ass as he writhed, you slowly lowered your spoon back to the bowl of canned soup you were eating. 

“Shit,” you breathed, hardly able to believe what you were seeing. 

Five was older, not looking really much different in age then you, when only an hour before, he was just a scrawny little neck stabbing douchebag. You knew he wasn’t really a kid. You had seen the picture of him, pre-maturely snowy white hair paired with a mustache of pepper and salt. You’d read about him as they'd directed, getting more acquainted with him to do your job, but this…

This wasn’t right. Five had not wanted them to do this. You had watched him desperately trying to get away.

They had hurt him with what they’d done, and he was still hurting, though you couldn’t tell if it was physical pain, mental, or both. Either way, you knew that he was jerking off, and the people at the Commission were monsters.

But then again, so were you, and so was Five.

Like a switch had been flicked on inside your brain, Lila’s voice circled around inside your head.

Bind him with your power.

He is yours.

And you are his.

Keep him sated. 

Closing the manila file that was filled with documented evidence that Five was not at all what he seemed, you shifted in your seat from the unexpected feeling of your own cock stiffening. The second the metal of your spoon hit the side of the porcelain bowl, he went completely still.

In a flash, he was on you, blinking across the room, his now much heavier body weight slamming into you, knocking you backwards while still not even up out of your chair.

Your head cracked against the ugly linoleum floor, your brain bouncing inside your skull as he pinned you under him, his strong arms and legs easily countering yours as you tried to throw him off.

“Get off of me, you fucker!” you shouted, rapidly blinking your eyes to clear the stars from your vision, but it didn’t work fast enough.

One of his hands came around your neck, ruthlessly choking you. “NO!” Five snarled, as you grabbed at his face, trying to make him look at you. 

Apparently, he was on to you and what you could do if given the chance because he forced your cheek to the floor, but just as fast, you jabbed him in the ribcage. Sucking in a pained hiss, he let go of your face, and you reached up, yanking him by his freshly grown mop of tangly dark hair, bringing your faces back together again.

Eyes ablaze, you gurgled, “S-top figh-ting-ME!”

Caught off-guard, Five couldn’t look away, but he fought back anyway, bucking his hips against yours as he tried to shake his head from your hold. The long, hot, hard length of his dick became even more wedged against yours, with nothing between you, other than his flimsy hospital gown and your borrowed pajama pants.

Feeling what you were feeling, because there was no way he wasn’t, looking even more ballistic, Five tried to throw his head back then forward to headbutt you, but that only made his cock rut into yours harder, and you didn’t let go of his head.

His face came forward anyway, his nose brushing against the tip of yours. His mouth gaped open as he gasped, his moist breath coating your lips.

Trying to speak again, he tightened his hand. Your words weren’t coming out, so you tried speaking to his mind instead. 

Focus on my eyes, Five, nothing else. I am not the one you should be fighting. Let me go!

The smallest flame started to reflect back at you as he watched the swirls of color building in your eyes. He was falling under your spell, but he still didn’t let go of your neck.

You almost had him, but you were growing dizzy from lack of oxygen. Your own eyes were fighting to stay open. You were sure that he was going to succeed in snuffing you out, and all the crap The Handler and Lila had done to get you there would have gone to waste, but then Five’s already ghostly pale face started to look more ashen. 

His sweaty brow furrowed, his face suddenly looking a sickly shade of green.

He started to gag.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! your mind screamed at him, right before he emptied the contents of his stomach, some of it splashing up on you even though you’d pushed his face to the side at the last second.  

With nothing left in him, Five finally let go, then he collapsed, his face burrowing against the start of bruises already forming along the length of your neck.

As your chest rose and fell, your body taking in the air it had been denied, the now much longer hair on the top of his head fluttered with your labored breaths. He had listened to you because he had no choice, but you also had a voice inside that wasn’t yours, and you couldn’t silence it.

‘… you are allowed to do whatever is necessary to take care of him.’

The heat between your bodies was about as impossible to ignore as the feel of his erection next to yours.

You laid your hand against the small of his back. Five flinched from even that lightest touch, but you kept your hand there.

“Everything hurts. It won’t stop,” he cried, the wetness of his words as his mouth opened against the side of your throat was heartbreaking as his tears washing over your skin.

Chapter Seven: Trust 

“You need to get up,” you told Five, letting the warmth of your hand slip away from the curve of his lower back, but only after he’d quieted. As you pushed your elbows into the floor, trying to sit up, you felt the slickness of his vomit coating your arm. “That is so gross,” you huffed in exhausted irritation.

Coming out of his delirium, Five started untangling himself. Now that he wasn’t ordered to look at you, he refused to meet your gaze. He looked down at his diamond patterned hospital gown instead, and the impressive tent he was making out of it with his dick.

He looked horrified.

Staggering to his bathroom, you watched him disappear, slamming the bathroom door so hard it rattled everything inside his small apartment.

Hearing the sound of Five taking what had to be a very sloppy, and very difficult to execute piss, you looked down at the floor. 

“What a fucking mess,” you muttered, right before a loud, man-sized thud hit the wall.

Coming inside the bathroom to see what he’d done now, you were greeted with the sight of Five slumped on the floor, wedged between the toilet and the bathtub, a space that didn’t look at all comfortable, or like he’d put himself there intentionally.

He was trembling. Now that you weren’t holding him together, he was falling apart all over again, and there you were, doing not much better, covered in his puke, trying to figure out which you wanted to do more, kill him or…

“Shit,” you said, sighing as you threw a frustrated hand back through your hair.

Pulling his knees towards him, burying his head in his hands, Five mumbled through his fingers. “I didn’t want to do this to you. I had no choice.”

“I know, but I still hate you,” you said.

He looked up, his eyes glistening. “Why are you here…with me?”

“Because they want me here. I also have no choice in this. If I walk out your front door, my brain stem is going to end up deep fried like a churro. Speaking of which, you have no food here. Why have dishes when your refrigerator is empty.”

You reached back, your fingers gingerly grazing the stitches that they had only just closed a few hours before. You winched, triggered by the memory of debilitating pain The Handler had graced you with.

The line between Five brows deepened. “What are you doing to me?” he questioned.

“Nothing at the moment.” 

It was true, you weren’t, but he didn’t look like he was buying it.

You glared at him. “I’m not the one responsible for your Alice in Wonderland, magical sizing up issue, or that hefty boner you’re dealing with." You swore you saw the tiniest twitch in the corner of his mouth. 

“No. You are not,” he coolly replied. “I am being hit with six years' worth of developmental hormones all at once, so clearly that was not what I meant, and I think you knew that. What’s your excuse?”

Looking slightly less venomous, he glanced at the flannel covered outline of your semi hard cock, the shape of your mushroom like tip still protruding enough that the thin fabric was doing nothing to help you hide it.

“Maybe I like getting pounced on by boney old men with big dicks." Only partly joking about that, you extended your hand. To your surprise, Five took it without you making him, but he swayed on his feet the second you’d pulled him upright.

“Well, you know what they say about skinny guys with big shoes,” he said, looking loopy as hell.

“What? That they are huge assholes?”

“Something like that,” Five said as he put a hand to his stomach and grimaced, stumbling back into his sink, looking way too pale again.

“Let me help you,” you whispered as he looked up at you, his new height still not quite matching yours and only made worse by the way he was struggling to stand up straight.

Shaking like a leaf, you could tell Five was going to take off again, or barf, so you planned your next words very carefully, saying them in a calming cadence that only added to the trance-like state you were putting him in with your eyes.

“You are safe with me, Five. I need you to do as I say. Don’t try to get away from me, or them. You want to be here with me. We are both staying here, me never leaving this apartment and you work for them, doing everything they say. Confirm that you understand that.”

He nodded and very subtly, you motioned around you, warning him in case he hadn’t already known.

Sending a message to his mind only, you said, they are listening to us, maybe even watching.

He nodded again that he had heard you.

“Take in a breath,” you said, taking a long slow breath yourself, trying to calm your nerves.

He did too, holding it because you hadn't told him he could let it out.

“As you let it out, you will feel the pain inside you melting away. All of it gone.”

The words filled his head, a warmth of something he didn’t understand dulled his sickness and fear as he obediently exhaled.

“Say, ‘I trust you,” you demanded.

“I trust you,” Five repeated, a fire from deep in his eyes burning back, letting you know that you had him.

Saying nothing more, you helped Five to the edge of the shower, urging him inside, keeping him upright with your slightly larger frame as you stepped inside with him.

Chapter Eight: Coming Together, Coming Apart

Positioning him with his back facing you, the warming spray of the shower head began covering you both, filthy clothes and all.

Now that he wasn’t attacking you, or on the verge of collapse, you really looked at Five, taking him in, your eyes trained on the muscular swell of his narrow, but strong looking hips.

He was so…

Fuck.

As if he was the one that held you in a trance of sexual subjugation, you gripped the length of your shaft, your fingers moving to the tip, stretching the material around your thick glans. The evidence of how turned on you were seeped out of you as you squeezed your girth, adding to the already rapidly darkening fabric. The words came out of you as if someone else had said them. “You are going to stand here and say and do nothing unless I tell you that you can. If I ask you something, you will not lie to me. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” Five softly answered, still hypnotized by your power, even though he could no longer see into your burning eyes.

You had never done this to anyone before, and the thrill of taking control of him like this, in this way, only made it that much harder to stop.

Your breath cascaded down the back of Five’s neck and he shivered. You pushed the sleeves of his hospital gown down his arms, letting it drop at your feet. Hands coming to his hips, you pulled him back against you, the curve of his firm ass cheeks pressing against your now fully hard cock.

Five stiffened at first, but as your hands slowly moved around, your fingers relishing in the quiver of his toned stomach muscles, you heard him let out the quietest moan, and you felt him push back against you of his own free will.

“Do you want to be touched you like this?” you breathed, already knowing he did.

“Yes,” he gasped, sounding so pained, and so broken, that it made your balls quiver and your cock twitch.

"Do you like men, Five?"

He didn't answer, his mind fighting you back, so you said it again, this time with your lips against the back of his neck. "Have you ever fantasized about having sex with men, Five?"

"Yes," he quietly croaked with a nervous sort of shame in his tone over that forced admission that didn't fit the fierce man who only minutes before was trying to choke the life out of you.

He was so fucking beautiful. Innocent only far from it. Everything in you wanted to destroy him, but you took no more than that, just relishing in the feel of your dick being enveloped by his hard ass cheeks. His body was nothing but lean muscle, and you knew just what he could do with it too, only now, Five wasn’t walking around as a violently little thirteen-year-old. 

If given the order, now, like this, at the prime of life, he’d be so much more terrifyingly lethal than he was before. 

He is yours, your mind whispered, and fuck yes you wanted to believe that, even without Lila’s voice telling you that was already true.

Reaching for his shampoo, you glopped a squirt of it in your hand, then brought it to your head and face, washing away any remaining traces of the stomach splatter he had gotten on you. Then getting more soap, you brought your hands to Five’s head, massaging your fingers into his scalp. 

Already going weak in the knees with pleasure over the feel of it, Five’s head rolled back on his shoulders. Biting in a moan, he had to reach out, his palm pressing against the glass shower door to support himself. As you worked your hands down his neck, kneading his shoulders, then the long curve of his spine, he let out a series of puppy-like whimpers that only made you want to hear more intoxicating noises like that coming out of him. 

“Have you ever done this or anything like it with anyone before?” you questioned.

“No. I only had Dolores,” he whispered.

You knew who Dolores was. The mannequin's picture was in his file. You let out a shaking breath, and kept going, your own sighs mixing with his, turning into a throbbing ball of pain and a full-bodied ache of frustration the more you touched him. This was wrong, but you couldn’t stop. You could practically feel Five’s tight rim clamped around the base of your cock as you took the only thing left of his purity, ramming him balls deep as he screamed your name.

Playing with his wet stomach, you explored the shiny grooves of his abs as they twitched, making his cock stutter and bob between his legs.

“You want me to help you take care of this?” you questioned, knowing he wanted to touch himself so badly, only he couldn’t unless you told him he could. 

“Please, yes! I- I need- It won’t-”

He couldn’t even say it. Five was so distraught, for all you knew, he’d been sporting a hard-on for hours, unable to do anything about it as he lay, strapped to that operating table in front of all of them.

Releasing him, you quickly peeled your shirt over your head, then took hold of him again, arms coming around, holding him to you as your hands worshiped his chest, fingers splaying over his small tight nipples before tracing patterns across his abs again. 

“Nnn-ahhh,” Five keened, wriggling against you because he was so overwhelmed by being handled this way.

“Do you want me to fuck you, Five?” you questioned, your mouth greedily coming to his neck, sucking at the salty taste of his delicious skin.

Something inside hadn’t abandoned him, because even though you’d asked Five a question, again he didn’t answer it.

The darkness in your mind felt like it was suddenly eating at you. You needed him to comply. Your eyes flared with anger as you reactively bit into him, your teeth drawing a cry of pain that made Five sound like the terror filled little boy he had looked like only hours before, and that only pissed you off even more.

You hated this, but you hated even more than you didn’t.

Fighting the voices and the desire to do worse to him, your mouth moved along the crest of Five’s shoulder, breathing him in as he trembled. “Shhhh,” you hotly warned, kissing him so softly that he deliriously whimpered again. 

His hand slipped along the glass as he began to move, but just as fast, you took hold of him, taking his uncut cock up against his abdomen, pumping your hand along the veiny length of it.

“Fah-ah-aaahhckkkk,” he groaned, automatically reacting to the new sensation with his hips reactively springing to life like a bouncing rabbit. 

You loved the sound of that, and the feeling of him frantically rocking against you. He needed this so badly you could feel him throbbing in your hand. “I'm yours, Five. My only purpose is to make you happy. Tell me what you want,” you said while slowly fucking him with your hand, the pressure of your confined erection screaming at you to be released.

“I want this! Please, fuck! I need to cum!” he cried, as you looked over his shoulder, longingly taking in the sight of the pearly string of fluid that was steadily leaking from his swollen red slit onto his taut torso. You smeared his bloated glans around his navel, letting his pre-cum slick your fingers, making it even easier to move them up and down his big cock.

Sliding the hand you had at his hip, back over his perky ass, you brought your fingers to the tight ring of puckered flesh hidden between his cheeks. Five flinched and lurched forward from the invasive sensation, but circling his rim while rolling his foreskin up and down, teasing his cockhead, you were determined to tangle the programing in his head that was used for interpreting whether this were right or wrong. The main lust driven goal to make him associate you playing with his ass with the feeling of pleasure and total submission.

“I only want to make you feel good, Five,” you promised, then slowly inserted your finger inside him, up to the second knuckle, then pulled it out again, repeating the pattern of in and out, dragging his hole open slowly each time.

Overstimulated to the point of tears, soon you had him panting and his thighs quivering. Not blinking away or even attempting to stop you, but again proving that your power over him may have been slipping, Five cried out, “Please, Ffff-!” 

You weren’t sure if he wanted more or less, but pulling out of him, you ran your fingers over the bar of soap sitting on the small shelf next to you, bringing the sudsy fingers back to his hole. With no foreplay this time, you plunged your finger into his virgin hole that felt so tight, you knew it would deny your cock entry but that only made you want to fuck him even more.

Five growled as he closed his eyes, helplessly rocking against your hands, and you loved it way too much that he wasn’t even capable of being ashamed or forming words anymore. 

Obliging his desire for more master playing with his angry little puppet, you pumped him faster and harder, penetrating him with a second finger, crooking both digits as you twisted them and tapped them against his prostate. Five moaned so loud and raggedly, the needy tremor of it was almost enough to make you blow your load. Instead of doing that, or bending down to lick his ass hole and really send him to another planet, you shut your eyes too, focusing on nothing but him and the hypnotizing sounds of his hitched breaths.

“You like me fucking your cock and your hole, Five?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes. Fucking, ffff-” he breathed, licking his lips as he threw his head back against yours.

Straining, Five clenched his groin muscles, his entire body shaking with the first waves of his orgasm. His release hit him so hard, if you hadn’t been holding on to him, he would have slipped and fell on the slippery shower floor.

His come was so hot as it repeatedly spurt out of him to the rhythm of you fucking your fingers against his prostate, the milky strands of it covering your hand, flicking up, going everywhere. Working him a little longer as his body rested back against yours, you nuzzled the scruffy wet feel of his hair against your face, then you gently pulled your fingers from the suction of his trembling hole.

You wanted nothing more than to feel Five in this way, surrendering all of himself to you because he'd done it completely willingly, but as soon as it was done, the painful disappointment of your reality and what you'd done cut through the words Lila had tried and failed to imprint on your brain. 

Forcingly spinning Five around, your eyes filled with a mirage of blissfully dancing colors. His own pupils, still blown dark with his lust, instantly went glassy, reflecting back eerily, the entire sclera glowing bright.

"Pick up that towel, get out and go find something to eat, and then get in your bed, and go to sleep. You have work in the morning,” you told him.

Waving a testing hand in front of his face, as if drugged, Five grinned back so stupidly that all you wanted to do was to kiss him silly, and that made the ache in your chest even worse. 

You slid the shower door open and repeated the order. “Go. Do what I said.”

Getting out, like the good little hypnotized time traveling assassin now made case worker for a bunch of demented dickheads, Five reached for a towel, tying it around his waist before he stepped out into the cold air of his apartment, hair still dripping beads of water down his back as he headed towards his kitchen.

Realizing you perhaps should have told him to dry off, and put some clothes on, rather than think on that mistake for even a second longer, you slammed the shower door closed, pulled down your pants, dropped your forehead against the tiles, quickly jerking yourself off with his name on your lips as you came.

Chapter Nine: I know Not What I Do, Only I do

As you laid in Five’s bed, a few feet away from where he slept so peacefully under your spell, you knew this couldn’t go on, and seeing him walking in the door now only made you feel that way all over again. It was crushing. Conflicting orders at war inside your head.

Looking around Five’s small apartment, you smiled again at how he’d cleaned it that morning. While quietly getting ready for his day, he’d made sure you didn’t have to deal with the dried puke mess on the floor, or with how he’d accidently pissed all over the toilet the night before. 

Coming home, Five looked so handsome and full of life, his new black suit clinging to him in all the right places. When he shut the door, your eyes met his for a second before he looked away. He was clearly uncomfortable, despite being forced to trust you being there in his private space. 

“I brought food,” he simply said, moving to the table to set down the brown bag he had carried in with him. “It’s just something I picked up, but I promise after work tomorrow I will go shopping for things to fill that empty refrigerator and make my dishes less worthless.”

He slipped off his suit jacket, placing it over the back of his chair, then sat down, taking out two containers filled with something that smelled so good it instantly made your mouth water. 

He smiled hopefully as he opened his dinner, gesturing for you to do the same.

You felt that pain in you chest again. Five was taking care of you. That was not something you had compelled him to do, but there he was, doing it anyway. 

As he started eating, you saw him looking over at the Commission’s file that was still laying on the table between you, every time you saw him do it, he would look away, nervously tapping his foot under the table. 

You didn’t care what it said. Five Hargreeves, the monster they’d made, the man that had killed so many people, and had taken you away from your life, all because an evil woman told him too, was not what that file said he was. 

After several bites of food, the thickness in your throat was too much. “Five, look at me.”

He did, as if you’d made him, only you hadn’t.

“Is it true what The Handler said about that diner…about me dying there if this hadn’t happened?” 

You watched him slowly swallow. “Yes,” he replied, again uncomfortable with this, but trying so hard not to show it.

Raising your fork again, you took a deep breath and nodded.

Silence resumed as you both ate.

When you were done, you could tell that Five didn’t know what to do with himself. When he had looked like the older man in the picture underneath the cover of that file, you could only assume that even then, he didn’t have much to cling to in this place, other than scheming to get back to his family. He’d done it too, only the poor bastard got himself stuck right back where he was before, only two days later. 

Leaning back as you pushed out your chair, you crossed your arms over your chest. You grinned. You couldn’t help it with him sitting over there, frowning as he ran his finger over the scratches etched into his tabletop. 

When he pulled his lips to the side, looking even more sulky, you let out a little chuckle.

“Something funny?” he coolly questioned, with such irritation souring his expression that your smile grew even bigger. Finally looking up, he glared at you through the messy pieces of hair dangling in front of his face

“No. I just like looking at you,” you honestly replied.

Flipping his head back, Five raised his eyebrows in disbelief, but you saw the smile pulling at his lips as his hair fell right back, making him all the more handsome but also annoying him all over again.

Drawing invisible pictures, he went back to jiggling his foot against the leg of the table.

“Are you bored, need help figuring out what to do with your night, other than studying your tabletop?” you teased.

To your surprise, Five suddenly disappeared, a rush of air hitting you when he reappeared less than a second later, standing right between your outstretched legs, one hand planted hard on the table next to yours. He lowered himself even closer, his eyes boring into you so hotly it felt like he was trying to light you on fire with them.

“What if I am bored? Are you going to play with me again?” he challenged.

You smirked as he rubbed your knee, the crotch of his pants already tented so big it was making it so hard for you to think of anything else other than playing with him again. Hormones still raging or not as the reason for it, Five’s dick was silently begging for attention and when he was ready to go, he was ready to go.

You spread your legs a little more. “I could play with you, and tire you out like I did last night, or since I am pretty comfortable right here after my long day of doing nothing, I could fill that spray bottle over there under your kitchen sink with water and squirt you in the face with it until you leave me alone.” 

“If you spray me, I will hump your leg and bite at you,” Five countered, his voice seductively sweet.

“It looks like we have a problem then,” you said as your eyes burned for him. “What are you going to do about it?” 

Five dropped to his knees between your legs. As he reached between your thighs, groping you, he got confirmation that he wasn't the only one getting hard. You bit back a moan and leaned forward, resting your forehead against his. “I can’t say no if this is what you want, but I shouldn't do thhss-” 

“Quiet,” he whispered, pressing a finger to your lips, cutting you off as his breath purposefully ghosted against your ear. “I have wanted to do this all day.”

As Five stroked your cock through the frumpy gray dress pants you hand taken from the limited selection in his closet, he moved his lips along your cheek, coming to your mouth, where he kissed again, his slightly parted lips happily taking in the breathy heat of your gasps.

It was his first real kiss like this with someone real, and he was perfect, so soft, so delicately insistent.

Lust hitting your entire being, your eyes instinctually flamed brighter with need. Five kept going, assertively unzipping your pants, pulling your cock out, only breaking away from your mouth to look down, appraising. Your length was thick enough, but at the head, where you were slightly thinner, you flared out with just the right girth to stimulate some major damage.

"Five," you breathed and closed your eyes as he began to kiss you again, this time thrusting his tongue in, twirling it around with yours.

There was no question if this was wrong or right. No thoughts wasted on why you felt the way you did about him. 

When you reached down, cupping him through his dress pants, Five groaned and held the side of your face with his other hand, aggressively wrestling with your tongue, ramming his as far into your mouth as it would go.

Forcing your lips away from his, even as he tried to nibble like a puppy on your lower lip to keep his hold on you, you gave a sharp laugh, rolling your eyes at him. “Are you trying to fuck me, Five?” Pushing your ass into your chair, stomach flexing, your hips fucked into his hand, to fuck with him even more.

When Five didn’t answer, you knew why. His brain couldn’t form the right response, and that was because he didn’t know what to say or do all of a sudden, like you just asking that had shaken him out of his own self-induced super horny dying to have his dick played with trance. 

“I think it’s time for you to suck me off, sweetheart,” you mocked, and just like that, eyes glowing back, at the perfect height to bend over the length of dick in his face, Five did. 

Tentatively tasting you, his tongue slid around your glans, causing you to anxiously twitch under his extra gentle touch. Growing bolder again over your reaction, Five slid forward, grabbing your hips, aggressively pulling you to him, proving how strong he could be as he sucked the head of your cock between his silky lips like a kid sucking a lollie pop. 

“Oh fuck,” you whispered, shakily clutching the back of his head as he took as much of your erection into his mouth as he could. 

Even though he’d never done this before, Five was proving he wasn’t just very good at killing people and turning his own life into compete fucking chaos. Right now, the most important thing in his mind was your dick, and he was owning that hot, pre-ejaculate dripping mess too.

Slowly letting him work into it, the building ache between your legs felt as good as your cock gently rocking into his throat. Like before, you were trying so hard to be careful with Five. You had told him he was safe with you, that all he wanted was to be with you and you'd take care of him, but fuck he was taking really good care of you.

The heady smell of your crotch and salty taste of your cock as he licked you up and down, and your fingers needily gripping his hair had him so excited, he was trembling with excitement. The tension building to a point of no turning back, along with the ingrained need to take back control, you took his hair, firmly pulling his head back. His mouth came off your cock with a pop as he looked up at you like he might snarl at you he was so mad that you'd forced him to stop. “You are being such a good boy, and I love how you look with my dick in your mouth, but right now... Now I need you to jerk off while I cum down your throat,” you said as you laughed at him already trying to get your cock back in his mouth.

Letting him have it, as his mouth came back around you, he tore into his own pants. Ripping his zipper down, he pulled himself free, gripping his girth tight at the tip. When he started going at it, hard, the sight sent your eyes rolling back in your head, but you forced them to stay open, dizzily admiring how fucking amazing he looked jacking off his big dripping cock while he went doing down on you.

All you could do was enjoy every wet suckle and slicked squelching sound you were making together. Your cock was swelling and leaking even more with his valiant efforts and that only spurred him on even more.

Inside his mouth and inside his mind, you could feel how much Five wanted to taste your release, to swallow your gushing lust for him, letting it consume him, but before he could get you there, you pulled his head back again, frantically panting, and that only made Five look even more proud over what he’d been able to do to you. 

He gave you a sloppy smile and you felt like your heart might burst.

He wanted to drown in you, and you felt exactly the same about him.

You took his hand in yours. "What do you want, Five?” you asked, needing him say it.

“I want to give you everything,” he replied, his eyes still glowing as he meekly peered up at you.

You didn't know what to say to that and with it, the hand you were holding went slack as Five robotically waited for direction. You untangled your fingers from him and his hand fell next to his body.

You felt sick over this but you reached out anyway, brushing your fingers across his smoothly shaven cheek. “Five, you have to promise me that if I do something you don’t want, you will tell me. You have to tell me the truth, always.”

He said nothing.

“Do you understand!” you worriedly pushed.

“I understand. I will tell you if I don’t want something. Only the truth. I promise."

“Do you want your clothes off?”

“Yes.”

You started unbuttoning his waistcoat, your hands shaking as you pulled back the tailored black fabric from his thin waistline. 

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” you whispered as he pushed his pants down the rest of the way, clumsily kicking out of them, then his shoes.

“I can’t stop thinking about how good it feels with you,” he said, struggling out of his dress shirt even before you had it all the way unbuttoned.

Taking him by his tie, you pulled his face to yours while giving his cock a little squeeze.

Falling into you, his cock leashing him to you, Five submissively whimpered. 

Your teeth flashed at him, just like your eyes. “Tell me, Five…do you want me to fuck you again? Or do you have something else in mind? You wanna play the daddy this time?”

“I-" His mouth opened a few times, then closed as if what you just said short circuited his brain."

I looked at him sternly. "I am waiting..."

"I want you to fuck me again," he quickly shot back, so fast and high pitched that you had to laugh at how rushed and eager he sounded. "You make it so easy for me," he furthered, sounding like he still thought that you required more convincing. "I don’t even need to think with you. That's what I want. I want to be yours again."

Hearing Five admit that only fueled the dark arousal burning in your gut. You had not instilled in him the message that he was yours. 

Fuck, Five was just... Fuck.

You smirked and shook your head, cupping his balls.

Five furrowed his brow, looking genuinely confused until you shuffled him back and pushed him down and on his bed. He was so hard, his long cock slapped against his torso on impact, and that was so fucking hot seeing that, that you could hardly take it.

If he did fuck you, you’d really be fucked.

Dropping your pants to the floor, throwing off another one of his borrowed undershirts, you wedged your body down over his. Instinctively, Five spread his legs making room for you. You hooked his legs around your hips, pulling him closer until he could feel the heat of your cock pressing against his.

Leaning forward, kissing him softly, your dicks slid together. Gripping them in your hand to make it feel even better, Five moaned into your mouth with appreciation.

Rubbing off against each other’s cocks, you started nipping at his neck, leading a hot trail of your tongue up to the shallow cave just under his jawline. 

“I need you inside of me…it feels so good. Please,” Five begged, trying to rut into you even faster.

Hearing him say that, you rubbed the rigid tip of your cocks against each other, a groan rumbling in your chest over what he'd said and the sensation of it. Bringing your other hand between his legs, the pads of your fingers started circling his hole. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you breathed against Five's long sexy neck as his legs gave out, flopping down onto the bed as if you’d just rendered him useless by tickling his asshole, but then, just as fast, he kicked into overdrive, moaning your name, the heels of his feet digging into the bed so he could frot against you faster.

"I can take it. I need you, please...fuck, please-" he growled, evidently not at all incapacitated.

Five gasped when you pushed down on him, forcefully tilting his hips, while pulling your fingers away from his ass. The hot tip of your cock slid between his legs, replacing your hand and he looked so cutely frozen with nervous anticipation, it was like he was stuck between terror and just not giving a damn about anything anymore, which was exactly what he'd said he wanted. He didn't want to think.

“Not yet,” you said, laughing, just before flipping him around like he weighed nothing more than blow-up fuck doll.

Like a man possessed, coming in behind him, your eyes trained on his ass crack, you gave him a good slap, making him hiss and bite at his pillow in retaliation. If that wasn’t indication enough that Five liked that, the way he curled in, his hand coming to his dick, fondling it just as angrily confirmed it.

“Hold still and be a good boy, and I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll never be able to forget me,” you promised, laying another handprint on him as you smiled.

After pinching his ass, making him growl a little more, you trailed your hand down his spine, leaving it in place on the small of his back. You spread his hole open, revealing his tender pink skin you were dying to kiss. “You’re amazing, so perfect, Five,” you breathed, meaning every word of it, so scared of breaking him but also wanting to do nothing but break him.

Reaching for his bedside table where you'd seen that he had a bottle of lube hidden under his dirty magazines, you dug around, then finding what you needed, popped the cap, squirting some of the watery fluid in your hand. Swirling it around his rim had him flailing, so being even more generous, you massaged his taint too.

“Oh fuck, this feels so good,” Five cried, grinding back on your hand.

“I told you to stay still,” you said as you yanked him to the side of the bed, reaching between his legs, pulling his cock back, stretching it down against the bedspread so you could keep an eye on it. Once you had him where you wanted, you pinned Five’s crotch flat against the mattress, admiring the full bitch like view of him laid out for you like that.

You let your fingers linger along his ass crack again before drifting lower, groping his tightly hung balls. You gave a firm stroke along his shaft, finishing the torment by gently pinching and squeezing the flared strawberry shaped thickness of his tip, making him drizzle a hot trail of of pre-cum against the bed.

Probing your slicked finger at his ass, when you finally entered him, Five, whimpered and tried to grip his cock again, but you slapped his hand away.

“You bastard!” he screamed, rabidly humping the side of the bed as you worked his glistening pink asshole.

Twisting and turning your wrist, you smoothed your finger back and forth across his prostate, altering between that and jabbing it in and out of his asshole. Panting curses, Five spurted even more onto his bedspread with his rim pulsing against the base of your fingers.

He squirmed and tried to lift his ass when you pulled out, but then you sunk a second finger, scissoring into him, holding him in place with your other hand, not letting him up even after you’d brought in a third digit into the fun and he was crying out like you were killing him.

You looked down at the swell of your cockhead hanging over his ass. You knew this was going to be hard for him no matter what, but just the thought of your dick jamming in Five’s virgin asshole made your breath hitch and your heart beat even faster.

“Please,” he yelped as you pulled out of him, taking your time, lovingly tugging his long, heavy erection, covering it with the lube left on your hand.

After you spread a line of fresh lube on your cock, coating it until it shined and throbbed, rock hard. Ready, you tossed the bottle on the bed and grabbed Five’s hips, whipping him around. 

Yanking him close, his ass about off the bed, Five looked you right in the eye as you pressed your thick, swollen glans against his puckered flesh, giving it a few pushes to test the resistance. It was still too tight to accept you unless you forced it.

“Five, you don’t have to do this,” you said. “Tell me right now if there is anything inside you telling you this isn’t what you want. I’ll stop, I swear.”

Five was silent, totally still for a moment, then he whispered, “I want this, with you. Only you. Please. I want this more than anything.”

That wasn’t true. He wanted to save the world and his family more than anything, but something in you dying a little more for him anyway, you leaned over, lining your throbbing tip against his hole as you tenderly kissed his quivering lips, your tongue caressing his as you slid your meat against his opening.

“I only want you too,” you whispered back as you felt the pressure on your cock head increasing. Sinking into his ass, you pulled out almost right away and you felt the sweet feeling of his asshole trailing the thick head of your cock, sucking at it like it was begging for it to come back, but Five was trembling so hard it had scared you straight. Your brain doing the thinking for a fraction of a second, you equally shakily asked, “You, okay?”

Frantic, he nodded. “Burns,” he breathed, swallowing hard. "Feels, so- So good.”

Slow and careful, you pushed into him again, your head swimming from the sensation of his body clamping around you. 

An inch in and Five gasped and fisted at his bedspread.

“That's it, you’re doing so good. Just relax,” you whispered, increasing the force of your thrusts the more your cock entered him. “You’re so tight, so perfect, Five. Ffff-” you hissed between clenched teeth as you pulled back, watching his straining red rim follow your cock back as you pulled out, gripping and caressing every inch of you. 

“Thank you,” he moaned, saying it again and again, each time your cock reached a new part of him, the pain in his eyes there with the shine.

You couldn't take the sight of him hurting. “God, Five, fuck,” you gasped against his ear, your stomach sliding along his sweat covered body as you came down next to him again, hiding from the truth of it. "I am sorry," you cried back. "At your mercy, you jarred his body into the bed with your strong thrusts, starting to fully rock the fuck out of him. “No-matter wh-what, your mine, and I am yours,” you rhythmically grunted, as you rolled your hips into his ass, your cock sliding freer by the second as Five took the abuse, relaxing into it even faster because your power was making his body obey.

Your hands gripping his ass as you thrust your cock into his asshole, bucking your hips against his body, Five slurred back, “I’mm- Ya ya-yoursss.-” 

At this point, he was mumbling all sorts of sounds you couldn’t understand. He threw his head to the side, burying his face in the blankets as if it could ease the overwhelming sensations he was feeling. Saliva slipped from the corner of his mouth, and you wiped it away for him, wanting to love him but destroying him all the same.

He was breaking but seeing him that way was breaking you too.

"Look what they did to you, Five!" You gripped his jaw, making him look at you. "I'm the only one who gets to ruin you like this,” you said, lowering your voice. “Not them. Say it.”

“You’re the only one. Not them,” Five quietly cried, his head swaying as you violently pounded into him and his hips humped mindlessly, his asshole clenching down on your dick. 

“Don’t let them away with this,” you said, your mouth whispering at his throat, your voice so low with rage and your mind so gone that it only pulled Five deeper into your head and into this madness.

A sharp shock of pain shot through him as you cock bottomed out, but you held his wrists down to stop him from writhing or getting away. You kissed his brow, whispering your regrets again. “M sor-sorry, Five. So fucking sorry.”

His entire body shuddering, on the verge of climax, Five didn't know why you were saying that. Trapped between your bodies, Five’s cock was leaking all over him, but the friction he was getting wasn’t enough. He wanted more so much he was about to scream.

When you put your hand to his throat, the fire in your eyes as your fingers enclosed his windpipe would have been terrifying if not for how much he wanted to see it, and hear you ordering him to touch himself.

Obediently taking his cock in hand, Five quickly started beating off.

Plunging into him hard and fast, the back of his thighs smacked your pelvis. Over and over, you took him, harder and faster, until you were both delirious with pleasure.

His oxygen cut off, his body under your command, Five started to come.

"Five," you gasped, tears clouding your eyes as he let go of himself completely, pawing at his sheets with numb hands.

One second you wanted to escape what you'd done to him, then the next you knew you couldn't fathom it, and all you wanted was to keep him here like this as your prisoner for the rest of his life, and the abject horror of that was too much.

You locked your arms around his shoulders, bearing down as you hurtled in and out of his increasingly slack ass, relishing the wet squelches and reverberating smacks that accompanied every rapid thrust. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” Five’s voice was strangled and frenzied, his repeated gasps, wet and dripping with desperation. 

You slammed into him, to the hilt, and didn’t pull out, deeply grinding your cock into his body so hard you could see the bulge of it pushing up in his stomach. 

You felt the spasm beneath you that rolled down Five’s spine and pulsed in his ass, making him wriggle and writhe against your crotch as spurts of cum burst from the tip of his abused cock. Then, having brought him to the brink everything got hotter and tighter when your cock erupted inside him.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you gripped Five even harder, even more relentlessly cruel. He thrashed as you spilled, ruthlessly filling him with your seed. 

He howled as your hips slammed into him one last time, a wall of pleasure coming undone that made him spill more cum too, his spent cock twitching as his balls emptied everything he had left.

For a couple of minutes, you were both still. Five’s apartment was silent except for the sounds of erratic breathing. You didn’t want to move, but if you didn’t, you might collapse.

Pulling out, his body spasmed from the loss. Where he’d felt so unbelievably full, the shock of your retreat brought tears to Five’s entranced eyes.

You crawled up next to him, the warmth of your body pressing next to his as you pulled his chin towards yours, leaving your thumb resting against his kiss swollen lips.

He shut his eyes, looking so beautiful.

You told him he was. You told him to look at you.

As he did, you could feel it that Five was aware he was hypnotized during all this. His mind was fuzzy, as if his head was filled with cotton, but you holding him felt cozy and warm and safe. It was like for the first time in his life, nothing bad could touch him. 

He wasn’t lying. This was what he wanted. He was happy and it felt so new to him that he didn't really understand the emotion other than he didn't want it to stop.

While listening to you speak as he watched the motion of your lips, Five felt like the world was operating in slow motion. He could see the glow if his eyes reflected back in the sadness of yours, but he still didn’t understand why you looked that way. All he wanted was to make you happy like he was, and he hated that you seemed like you weren’t.

What more could he give you? he wondered.

Your eyes misted over.

This wasn’t about that. This was about what you could give him.

“Listen very carefully, Five,” you whispered, so quietly there was no way the Commission’s spying mics could pick up what you were saying. “Tomorrow, get what you need to get out of here. When you have it. Go. You need to jump back to the exact point you left. Even if you can get your hands on a briefcase, you still need to jump like you did the last time. Go back to the exact same body you had before, change the math to make it happen. Do you understand?”

“But you can’t leave,” he said, looking so confused. His hand came back around your neck, his fingertips careful not to touch your fresh incision, but the point he was making was clear as the pain you felt over this.

“I found a way out. I will be with you. This is the way it has to be. Tell me you understand, and that you will do this for me.”

He said nothing. 

“You are doing this,” you insisted, the pools of your eyes lighting up with swirls of power he couldn’t escape. “Tell me that you understand what you are supposed to do. You need to take your Umbrella Academy uniform with you. Change into it if you can still get it on. No one else needs to know this happened to you. Say you’ll do this for me.”

“I’ll do this. I understand” 

With you, like he’d said, everything was easy. There were no doubts, no thinking, so his answer came out of him as free as he finally felt. 

You’d said you would be with him. That was exactly what Five wanted, in his mind and his heart.

He smiled, and you smiled back.

Unable to look at him looking back at you with that look of softness in his glowing eyes, you pulled him flush with your body, the curve of his warm backside pressed to you in a false promise of safety. You brushed your face against the nape of his neck, tenderly applying kisses to his cooling skin as you whispered a continuous chant of how much he meant to you, of how perfect he was.

Lulled to sleep by your words of love, you listened to Five’s soft breaths. As he became lost, deep in his dreams, you keeping his nightmares at bay, you shut your eyes, but like the fiery presence of your power that remained ignited for him, as if clinging to him as much as you were with your arms, your tears couldn't put the fire out as it filled your heart.

Chapter 10: What Defines Us

The next day, just like the one before, Five dressed and got ready for work, but before he left, he bent over, placing a feather light kiss on your forehead, then he tucked you in, ensuring you wouldn't get cold without him there cuddling you.

You felt him doing it, but you kept your eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. Biting in your smile, you thought of how sweet he was, how as soon as you were asleep, and you could no longer dominate him with your power, he’d reflexively reversed your positions, making you into his little spoon. 

What you wouldn’t give to know what it was like to be with Five, in a real way, for even one more day, with him getting to just be him, and you just be you. 

What could have been was the tragedy adding to all the rest of the things plaguing your heart with regret.

Hours later, your mind still linked with his through your hypnotic direction, you felt it when Five snuck past the tube operations room, following Dot. 

He was so focused, so dead set on doing what you said. 

Taking a deep breath, doing the only thing left you could do to help him, buying him some time, you stepped out the door of his apartment, your knees hitting the pavement as the sensor in your neck activated, alerting the Commission's agents you were trying to get away. 

“The Handler knows that Five is up to something,” Dot nervously said, handing the order he had seen her typing to Gloria. “Send this to Hazel and Cha-Cha immediately.”

As soon as Dot was gone, in a flash, Five was behind Goria, thumping her in the back of the head with his pistol.

The Handler hatefully looked down at you, flailing and foaming at the mouth. Her agents dragged you back over the threshold of Five’s apartment at the same time he blinked himself into an empty office he'd staked out earlier. He down, opening the tube. “Reassignment: Protect Harold Jenkins,” he muttered, his eyes wide in recognition of what this meant. 

This was what he’d come for.

Heart racing, looking at the door, listening for any sign they were out there, he quickly got to typing new orders for The Commission’s moronic mask wearing assassins. 

The old typewriter clicked, and the paper whirled as he pulled the new orders out.

Quickly stripped and wriggled back into his way too small academy uniform, with the words, Terminate Hazel for Immediate Extraction, and Terminate Cha-Cha for Immediate Extraction on the office memorandums in his hand, Five blinked back to the tube room. 

“Didn’t you like the suit I bought you?” The Handler said, wandering in, narrowing her eyes at him after he’d sent the second tube. “And…you know that’s not how we do things here. Where’s Gloria?”

Five turned, hands in his shorts pockets as he shrugged. His fly wouldn't even go up because the wool covering his ass was so stretched so tight, but he didn't give a shit that he looked like Luther about to burst out of his clothes. “Oh, I couldn't find her anywhere,” he replied, just as the woman in question groaned on the floor behind her desk. 

The Handler shook her head at him. “You’re a great disappointment to me. You and that other promising face I so generously gave you to keep you company. You can’t change what’s to come, Five. I truly find it so odd that you can’t shed this fantasy. You’re a first-rate pragmatist. You belong here with us.”

“I don’t belong anywhere thanks to you. You made me a killer!” he snapped.

“You were always a killer. I just pointed you in a direction.”

Blinking, Five disappeared just before the bullet she fired at him flew through his chest. 

Reappearing behind the shelves, The Handler kept stalking him, her free hand reaching in her pocket. “With the click of this switch I have right here in my hand...” 

She paused. 

Laying on the floor as you looked up at the sun shining in from the window next to Five's bed, the pain hit you again. Before everything went black, all you saw was the happiness in Five's sweet eyes as he looked back at you, his soft lips smiling with nothing but hope.

The Handler let up on the switch, her hand coming back out of her pocket, joining the other on her gun trained at Five. “He’s gone,” she continued, and that is on you, not me. Just another death on your hands.”

A few final twitches from the final jolts of her attack, rocked you limp body. The light in your eyes swirled to a stop. The connection to you severing like a knife being stabbed through his heart, enraged, Five blinked, right in front of The Handler, his face covered in a sheen of sweat, his teeth bared. 

“We both know that you have a limit,” she sang, at him, her gun pointed at his face. “I saved you from a lifetime of being alone. You owe me.”

She pulled the trigger.

Click, click, click.

Five grinned as she tried over and over to kill him but had nothing left in her chamber to do it.

“You didn’t save me from a lifetime alone,” he said, “He did! And I do owe a debt.”

He blinked, landing behind her, pulling the pin on his grenade.

“But it’s not to you,” he finished, wiggling the piece of metal in her face before he bowled it along the floor under her feet.

Blinking again, his fingers shaking so badly he almost couldn't dial in the date he needed on the briefcase, the numbers Five had to use to get back home flew through his head, but all he wanted to do was go back to stop this from happening to you, but your voice in his head lingered, and he couldn't refuse it. He had to listen to you, gone or not.

You had told him this was how it had to be. You told him you’d be there with him.

You’d lied. But you’d done it for him, to save him.

He realized that now and many other things and boy was clarity a bitch he wanted to beat the piss out of.

His teeth on metal as he pulled the pin, Five took off running, turning as the explosion rocked the briefcase closet, blowing out the glass windows. 

In a fiery blaze, Five was gone. Landing on top of the bar in the living room, back at the Umbrella Academy, pain racked his small body. He’d been hit somewhere but he couldn't tell where. It didn’t matter. You weren’t there, and more and more with each minute, the feeling of you inside him was abandoning him, and that hurt more than anything could ever hurt.

He was so fucking mad!

And fuck did he need that coffee Allsion was holding. 

He had the briefcase. He had time in his hands, he quickly rationalized, doing what he always had to do, which was survive, and cling to hope with every fiber of his being.

Someday, he’d get back to you. This wasn't over. Like he hissed at his siblings as they looked at him like he was somehow more nuts then than he was when he’d appeared out of pulsing blue vortex, falling on the ground in the courtyard during Ben’s funeral, Who cares if dad messed us up? Are we gonna let that define us? No.

Now Five was more hell bent than ever on seeing this thing through.

He was going to fix this, and not just for them. Even if you weren’t in his head anymore, he wanted to do it for you.

Someday he’d go back and save you the way you’d just saved him. He knew what it felt like to look into your eyes, floating in a bliss that was a gift only you could give.

The warmth of his blood seeping into his rumbled dress shirt, chucking the empty coffee cup behind him, Five looked at his family who were standing there looking dumbfounded as ever.

He grinned crazily. 

One day, he didn’t know when, but he would know what it was like to be loved by you again. 

You were his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That's it, my lovies. Please don't hate me for what I just did. You never know, maybe our new boy isn't really gone. And Five of anyone can get him back either way. He just needs figure out how and do a few more things first.

I hope you liked this. I know I did. I really liked this hypnotic young man with Five, and I am so happy I got the original request from my friend with the idea for the pairing. Developing him a little was so fun and I really struggled with not making this into so much more. I could see so much happening here but I fast tracked the shit out of it so it didn't end up like one of my other novel length Five stories. 😂

Link to all my other Tumblr Story and art posts

Link to my Five Centric Master List

Link to visit me direct on A03m

[rafaelsilvasource]

Rafael L. Silva feels like he accomplished what he set out to do with Carlos Reyes on 9-1-1: Lone Star — but that does not mean he thinks his character's story is over.

In five seasons of the Fox procedural drama, Silva's Carlos Reyes has transformed from a wide-eyed, well-intentioned police officer navigating an undeniable attraction to firefighter-paramedic T.K. Strand (Ronen Rubinstein) to a second-generation Texas Ranger hellbent on finding his own father's cold-blooded killer. Along the way, Silva — who landed his breakout role on Lone Star in 2019, a couple years after earning his undergraduate degree in acting from Pace University — has undergone a similar metamorphosis.

"Lone Star taught me a lot. It gave me feet to walk on, gave me some strong legs to stand on my own," Silva tells TV Guide. "I grew up as a person so much from the show, and I'm extremely grateful for [co-creators] Tim [Minear] and Ryan [Murphy] for having given me the opportunity."

In the final season of Lone Star, Carlos' investigation into the Rangers uncovers that his late father Gabriel's direct superior, Chief Bridges (Alan Autry), killed Gabriel and then set up Carlos' new partner, Campbell (Parker Young), to take the fall. While the bitter truth was never going to bring his father back, Carlos is finally able to get some much-needed closure about Gabriel's untimely demise — and he is now wholeheartedly able to focus on starting a family with T.K. In a flash-forward at the end of the series finale, which saw the first responders navigating not only the fallout of an asteroid but also a potential nuclear disaster, Carlos and T.K. are revealed to have adopted the latter's half-brother Jonah after T.K. decides to quit his job and become a stay-at-home guardian.

Below, Silva opens up about his extensive preparation to play a Texas Ranger (which he stresses is still not the same thing as actually being a Ranger), how he wanted to play the epic conclusion of Carlos' year-long search to finding his father's killer, and what he has made of the chatter about a potential Lone Star spin-off. He also speaks for the first time about his experience of shooting The Waterfront, a highly anticipated new Netflix series from Dawson's Creek and The Vampire Diaries creator Kevin Williamson.

The last time we spoke, you were telling me about the extensive preparation that you insisted on doing to portray a Texas Ranger in the final season of Lone Star — similarly to how you prepared to portray a police officer at the start of this show. How did your time with the Rangers ultimately inform your portrayal of Carlos in this new professional role?

Rafael Silva: When I was first notified that I was becoming a Texas Ranger, I simply just had no idea what that meant. I didn't know what a Texas Ranger was to begin with. How does one become a Texas Ranger? So I reached out to a couple of friends who had connections in Texas and I ended up being able to go to Texas and shadow some Texas Rangers, and I did that for some time. You simply cannot replace personal experience with any sort of study. One of the Texas Rangers that I shadowed told me that a man of experience will never succumb to a man of education, and I think that that's just one of the clearest ways to explain [the process]. You only learn by doing. You can read about it, you can watch tutorials, you can do so much study, but you will never know what something actually is unless you go through it.

It's an extremely exclusive and just definingly elitist department — and I mean elitist in the sense of, only the best of the best and only those who are willing to put in the work to become a Texas Ranger do become a Texas Ranger. They don't necessarily have an entourage of people that accompany them to do their job, to solve whatever situation they have at hand. They are expected to be their sole entourage. Which is why there is that famous saying: "One riot, one Ranger," because all it takes to deal with one riot is one Ranger. I was surrounded by extremely competent, smart, dedicated Rangers, and I have to thank them for allowing me to come into their world and showing me everything. That was a level of trust that I took to heart, and that's what I was adamant about coming into [this season of] Lone Star.

I had extensive conversations with Rashad [Raisani], our showrunner, and I told him, "I am not going to do this incorrectly. I am not going to just brush it for the sake of time, for the sake of network television. I'm not going to compromise." Rashad heard that — and this is why I respect him and Tim [Minear] so much, because they want the best to be on television — and they wanted to work with me. Rashad would call me, like, "Hey, can you touch base with the Ranger that you're friends with to see if this is correct?" And I would do so. So the willingness behind the creative team at Lone Star is also equally responsible for us to see Carlos portraying the Texas Ranger in the way that he did.

How else did that collaboration manifest over the course of the season? What were you insisting needed to be "correct" about this depiction of Rangers?

Silva: So when it came to building the physicality, the boots, the double rig [gun belt] — and we don't wear jeans, we wear wranglers — and the button down shirt, everything was [done] on purpose. There was not a single thing out of place, not purposefully. So that meticulousness is not only in the physicality, but also in the way the Ranger office was designed. The hierarchy, the presentability is extremely important. Every time I was on screen, I wanted to make sure that I was meticulous, because every time a Ranger is out on the field, they're not just representing himself or herself. They're representing all Texas Rangers. So what does that mean? It's above you. It's not about you. You have to take on this responsibility not only for yourself, but for everybody else. And that's an awareness you have to have.

I think witnessing that awareness, witnessing that energy in person was irreplaceable. So the purpose of [studying the process of] Carlos becoming a Texas Ranger is not only Rafael trying to do his job, but it's also Carlos not having to prove himself. Carlos is so young to be a Texas Ranger! He's a child. He's a baby. And that's mentioned, right? I was like, "We have to talk about how young he is, and we also have to talk about that this is not nepotism, because that doesn't happen in the Texas Rangers. That doesn't exist. Every Texas Ranger is absolutely qualified to do their job on their own and do it well. That needs to be honored in the script and the stories that we're telling." I just respect them so much. And selfishly as Rafael, I wanted that to be mentioned. I wanted that to be understood.

Parker Young, who played Ranger Campbell, recently said that he was a little sad when he read Episode 8 because he thought Campbell was Gabriel's killer, but then he was happy to discover that wasn't actually the case in Episode 9. When did you learn the truth about who killed Gabriel? Did you play any of the episodes under the impression that Campbell was the suspected assailant?

Silva: No, I absolutely did not want to know a fucking thing. [Laughs.] I didn't even know until I think someone told me, and we were shooting [Episode] 508. I didn't want to have the awareness. I didn't want to play something that Carlos was not aware of. That doesn't behoove me. That helps nobody. I think Tim wanted to tell me before we even started shooting Season 5, and I was like, "Shut your mouth. Don't do that! [Laughs.] Don't tell me a thing. Why would you tell me?" And I think there's such a freedom that comes in playing and being when you don't know everything. I completely disagree when people tell me that I need to know everything. I don't know everything that's going to happen in my life, so I just act according to the present moment. And why wouldn't my character do the same thing? So if someone wanted to tell me, I ran away from them. If someone tried to call me about it, I'd hang up. But eventually, I found out and then I just had to pretend I didn't know. [Laughs.]

There are a couple moments that stand out to me in Episodes 8 and 9, and they both have to do with the way Carlos reacts to his own investigation into Gabriel's murder. First, there's a clear switch when Carlos suspects Campbell was responsible, and Carlos has a difficult time trying to lie, and then there's another switch when Carlos discovers — almost too late — that Chief Bridges was his father's killer. How did you think about playing the conclusion of this massive arc for Carlos as he gets closer and closer to the truth?

Silva: I didn't try to play a conclusion. I was just trying to do the scene the way that it's meant to be played. The beautiful thing about the art that we do is that you can live as deep [as you want] in the illusion that you have control over what you do in terms of how the story's going to be told. The story's going to be told in the editing room. My job is to be true to how I feel the scene is going to go in that moment. So I don't put the responsibility on my shoulders. And that's something that I had to learn sort of the hard way too — to learn how to let go and just play the scene the way it's asked to be played.

So in terms of performance, I give all sorts of shades to the scenes. But essentially, something I knew before we even shot these scenes was that Carlos will not get the satisfaction that he's looking for by catching the guy or killing the guy. It's not like, "Boom! There you go. Justice [served]." No, it's not, because his father will not come back out of seeking that justice. His father will not come back if the guy gets murdered, or goes to jail, or he goes to trial and then he gets sentenced and charged. What Carlos is dealing with or trying his best to avoid is actually sitting in the pain of having lost his father and knowing that he will not ever come back. So in a sense, and perhaps we don't see a lot of this in the series, it's him dealing with the emptiness of like, "Now what do I do after this whole thing is over?" And that's up to interpretation. I think that would've been a beautiful moment to explore. Unfortunately, we just didn't have the time.

But I think Carlos's story was told. I think his rage was told — rage is essentially pain. I think his pain was told, and we were able to feel with him. We did have that scene at the cemetery. I actually forget all the lines [laughs], but essentially what he's saying is, "I don't have you by my side seeking justice. I don't have my father. I don't have you." So, as an actor, I don't worry about the big picture. I worry about each moment. Obviously, I've thought about the storyline, which is why we got the story that we did. Tim and Rashad were willing to give me that [arc], which I'm really grateful for. But you work so much, only to let it go immediately. It is just crazy to me. But that was sort of the intention. The intention is every moment. I think if you take care of every moment, the rest is also taken care of.

After Episode 9, you effectively bid farewell to Carlos, because it was the conclusion of his most substantive arc of the final season. Obviously, he and T.K. still had to overcome an obstacle to adopt Jonah. What was it like for you to say goodbye to Carlos? What do you remember most from your final day on set?

Silva: I cried a lot on my last day. There's that big red [Verizon] satellite truck that gives signals to the entire city [in the series finale]. That was my last day shooting Lone Star, and I didn't know how it was going to be. I am very fortunate that I have wonderful castmates that came and brought me flowers on my last day. I wasn't expecting it! I was not expecting a single person. I wasn't expecting anything. I was just like, "Oh, I'm just going to go home. And now it's done." But no, [Natacha Karam], Brian [Michael Smith], and Brianna [Baker] came out and they brought me flowers, and I just sobbed for about 20 minutes.

I don't know why that happens. It may be silly, but it's five years of dedicating your life to the people that you work with. I cannot emphasize enough the extremely talented and hardworking crew that we had on Lone Star. Our crew did so much for that show to work. I'm extremely grateful for them because [the actors] just had to show up, literally. These are men and women that give their lives just to create this industry, and I think they go unsung very often, and that is absolutely unacceptable. We have to mention our hard-working crew more often because they are as legitimate as the actors on screen. I grew up as a person so much from the show, and I'm extremely grateful for Tim and Ryan for having given me the opportunity. So I think, in the moment, we don't really register that [loss in our brains], but the body knows and it pours it all out and starts crying. I think maybe that's why it happens, but I think I was given a mission — and I think the mission was accomplished.

Did you get to take home anything from the set?

Silva: Hell yeah. I got my Steston [hat], my cowboy boots, and a jacket.

The legacy of a show generally becomes clearer over time, but many viewers have gravitated toward Carlos and the messiness of his relationship with T.K. over the course of these five seasons. When you look back on this chapter of your career five-to-10 years down the road, what do you hope the legacy of this character will be?

Silva: You can't really control how people identify [with] Carlos — at least that's what I understood. I just hope people see him as an ever-evolving human being. Like we all are, he's just trying his best to be his best. And I don't think his story is over. I really don't. There were ideas floating around about spinning off this world into something else, and I think that was a legitimate and smart idea. I just don't think the time is right. He will live forever in a sense, but I think his story is not over.

I definitely wouldn't shy away from continuing to tell his story — him being the leader of his [own] story — but it has to be complementary to the [9-1-1] world. It is not about Rafael being this [character again]. It's about Carlos existing. Why does he exist here, and what can we do to showcase this Latino queer man in a position of power? How does he live in the world? How does he influence people? How do people influence him, and what does he represent? What can he represent? Because people of all faces, all places, all sizes, all colors identified with him. They would tell me that [personally]. And I think that's such a privilege to witness — [for] people to gravitate toward him and want to root for him. And I'm not patting myself on the back. It's not about me and will never be about me, but that's someone people would root for, and I would be rooting for the people rooting for him. When characters like that come out, I think we shouldn't discard them so easily.

So, just to be clear, are you saying the door is open for you to reprise this character at some point down the road? If the executive producers decide they want to revisit just Carlos's story one day, would you consider coming back?

Silva: Yes. But it has to be done right.

Since wrapping Lone Star last summer, you booked and already filmed the first season of Kevin Williamson's new Netflix family drama The Waterfront, in which you play Shawn, a newly employed bartender for the central Buckley family who has a secret that could upend the family forever. The show is set to premiere later this year. What can you say about your experience of making that new show and playing a different character for a change?

Silva: I'm going to tell you right off the bat: I can't really say anything, because I've also not had any conversations about talking about the other show. [Laughs.] But I'll tell you: Living in North Carolina, working with [executive producers] Kevin Williamson, Michael Narducci, Ben Fast was an extremely privileged experience. It was wonderful. I worked with extremely talented people, people from the theater.

Our number one, Holt McCallany, is such a great leader, always prepared, knows his lines and everybody else's lines. [Laughs.] And it was a wonderful example of what can be done, what should be done. But also, I observed myself in that environment. I was like, Wow, Lone Star taught me a lot. It gave me feet to walk on, gave me some strong legs to stand on my own. And shooting the show was fun. It was very different from Lone Star because Lone Star had so much going on, especially in rescue cases. You have two fire trucks, two ambulances, cop cars — it's great, and it deserves its spotlight. And then [The Waterfront] was much less about the external, a lot more about the internal. The show is entertaining, it was fun, and it will be worth the watch.

[opencommunion]

"Now that I am over eighty, I keep on feeling the fright that my son and I experienced. I fear talking about it, and when I watch TV and see what they are doing in Gaza, in Jerusalem, in Hebron, the horrible feeling occupies my heart again. My son never forgot what he witnessed in ’48, and I have never forgiven myself for not being attentive to his eyes [i.e., at that time]; yes, his eyes were watching, telling me things. He was watching the scenes, like a horror movie. Horrible scenes, horrible noises – crying with deep agony, with bitterness. But I was helpless; all I could do was hold him tight. I could not give him water, or food, or safety. He probably saw the fear in my eyes too when we heard the bombing and saw the dead bodies and blood all around. You might say he was very young, but when he grew up, we used to talk; he always reminded me of details that I had deleted from my memory. I deleted the scenes of blood, and my son reminded me that the blood was not liquid, but rather still, like a frozen red color. I deleted the feeling of starvation, thirst, of the broken-heartedness we experienced when we walked out, leaving Lydda. I needed to live and go on in my life, so I deleted the painful memories from my mind. He – my eldest son – used to remember them … Poor one, he died early, from severe diabetes. Maybe his eyes refused to see them [the Israeli military] again [after the occupation of 1967]. Maybe he wanted to run away from seeing what they are doing to us now. Maybe he did not want to see the same movie, the same wounds again." 2015 interview with Rawya, a Palestinian woman who survived the invasion of Lydda during "Operation Dani," the largest single expulsion of Palestinians in the 1948 Nakba. From Incarcerated Childhood and the Politics of Unchilding, Nadera Shalhoub-Kevorkian (2019)

[yuikomorii]

// I love this illustration, everyone looks so cute as children but I can’t believe how straight up DARK it actually is??

Basically, this came out in 2019 and I was a bit confused why Ruki was there, since he’s Ayato’s rival and has nothing to do with the Sakamakis but I didn’t try to pay much attention to that detail, therefore I considered it a mere coincidence. However… after Young Blood was released, I can’t look at this picture the same anymore——

Rejet definitely knew what they were doing when they put only Ruki, Shu and Subaru in the same frame as Ayato because it’s giving “ Top 10 moments before disaster “. 😭😭

[dinoflwer]

^^ this is a shortfin mako shark!! cute, right?

it belongs to the family of lamnidae, also known as mackerel sharks or isurids. lammidae are large, aggressive and powerful sharks that live in tropical to cold, temperate waters globally. there's only 5 species of shark belonging to this family: white shark, shortfin mako, longfin mako, porbeagle and the salmon shark.

its the fastest shark species with cruising speeds of 45mph (faster than a running horse!!) to astonishing speeds of 60mph! these gorgeous speed demons are able to be so magnificently agile due to their strong muscles and a streamlined body which allows them to power through water in fast bursts.

also, same as their lamnidae family, shortfin mako’s have specialised blood vessels that regulates their blood temperature to be higher than the surrounding water by producing heat metabolically. this is referred to as a heat exchange circulatory system and makes them one of the few endothermic sharks! their warms blood enhances their agility, allowing them to move at greater speeds, and being able to swim intensely for longer periods of time and reside in colder waters.

primarily, their diet consists of bluefish, swordfish, tuna, marine mammals and few other sharks. as they are aggressive predators near the top of the marine food web, this speedster doesn't have many predators, just commonly other larger sharks when shortfin's are still juveniles.

shortfin mako's habitat is near the surface of tropical and temperate oceans. juveniles are commonly located in coastal waters and adults are more likely found offshore. however, they are still highly migratory and are incredibly capable of swimming long distances across entire oceans!

these guys are certainly no where near being the largest shark species, the whale shark, by averaging size of 1-2 metres (6-7 feet). mako's suit the average shark lifespan (20-30 years) by being capable of living up to and over 30 years.

their reproduction doesn't happen until later in life. males at 8 years of age whilst females 20. a female shortfin shark's pregnancy lasts 15-18 months and they give birth to live young. their offspring ranges from 4-16 pups and, at birth, the pups range from 68-71cm (27-28 inches). also, each female will give birth to the ranged amount of pups every 3 years, due to their reproductive cycle. mating occurs from summer to autumn where eggs are fertilised internally and then develop inside the mother.

unfortunately, according to the 2019 stock assessment, shortfin mako sharks are overfished and subject to overfishing due to their coastal and temperate latitude across all oceans, making them an easy target. they are either targeted commercially, caught purposely to create a profit, or captured accidentally in fisheries. shortfins are valued for the quality of their fins and meat.

thankfully, NOAA fisheries implemented regulations to protect the shortfins after they were determined "critically endangered" in 2019, after being up-listed from "vulnerable" and "near-threatened" back in 2007. this rebuilding plan promotes population growth.