BOOK POSTER:thank you for the venom

❝Prudence Sinclair was quite certain that Klaus Hargreeves happens to be her father, given the fact that she can see ghosts just like he can, she thinks the chances of him being her father like her file said, are pretty high. Was she certain enough to crash Reginald Hargreeves’ funeral, not exactly, but she does it anyway …❞

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( message me if you want to be added ) tag list:@claryxjackson@fyeahtuaocs@lost-in-the-shelves@stefelias@farfallasunicas@ocappreciationtag@toalltheocsivelovedbefore@raith-way@ocfairygodmother

Come on Get Higher

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings:Language

Requested:Hahaha no. Note: this is shit. it went from me thinking it was good to being absolute shit but i’m going to publish it anyway because :p

Summary:We go through such difficult times it’s a wonder how one continues on. A song fic for Come on Get Higher by Matt Nathanson.

I miss the sound of your voice

And I miss the rush of your skin

And I miss the still of the silence

As you breathe out and I breathe in

What gave someone the will to survive?

Most people would respond with family and most people would agree. Love, overall, was an honorable and driving reason to continue on when there appeared to be nothing left in the world. However, it took a certain type of person to continue on alone and still cling to survival in hopes of finding their loved ones.

Five Hargreeves looked far from the person who would know what love was. Anyone who knew him would go as far to say he would need to look the term up in a dictionary to even get a small glimpse of understanding.

This was far from true.

Not everyone showed love the same and everyone had a preferred way of being gifted it. For some it was hugs and kisses, their touch transferred love. For others, Five amongst them, love was shown and received in less obvious manners. They weren’t grandiose, most of the actions were hardly noticeable, but if someone squinted or held their gaze on it for more than a moment, they would see the love intertwined with the notion.

Five clung to the idea of his loved ones. It was the hope that he wouldn’t admit he had that pushed him to do the unthinkable in the scorching heat of apocalyptic ruin. His hope consisted of two categories; his family… and then you, someone who fell somewhere in between.

His dreams were bittersweet as they echoed your voice in his mind. Clear, calm and composed, you had spoken to him rather honestly. There was no need for laced sweetness or false tones, only your voice and the words that flowed from them. You never dragged on conversation when it wasn’t needed, you didn’t feel the need to speak when there was silence.

Your silence was calming.

He could remember countless hours spent in the library together, neither of you speaking, both of you drowned into another world whether mathematical or fictional or perhaps historical. Some would have argued the arrangement wasn’t bonding at all but to Five it was perfect. It was presence. It was peace. It was company. It was having someone by his side in peace and quiet as he dug into the philosophies of Plato or uncovering the secrets of the universe with Steven Hawkins.

The sun burning on his skin mirrored your touch, something he had taken time to accustom to. It had first been grazes of fingers between exchanges of items; books, napkins, dishes, pencils. Little things that had irked him and made his spine cringe. But soon it had progressed to high fives, fist bumps and bumped shoulders. Small things, pathetic things to some.

But not to him.

You were his best company. His favorite company. With you conversation came easy, silence was simple. If he had wanted to he could have listened closely and heard the beat of your heart and the soft inhales and exhales of your breathing. He didn’t know he could enjoy simply being with someone. It was nice knowing that he could solve theorems and equations, translate Latin and analyze Hemingway and have someone to explain what all of that meant to.

If I could walk on water

If I could tell you what’s next

I’d make you believe

I’d make you forget

There was a lot Five wished he could tell you.

He wished you knew that the moment he had jumped in time he had instantly regretted it. He wished you knew that only a few hours later he’d be sleeping in a pile of rubble salvaging burnt bread and dirty water in order to make it to the next day. He wished he could tell you about the coming apocalypse for you were the only person he could think of that wouldn’t immediately freeze. Whose mind would turn with possible solutions and perhaps the only person who would completely believe him.

Most of all, he wished he could tell you how sorry he was. Perhaps it was because he knew you would be the only one to accept it. He doubted if he even attempted to apologize he wouldn’t know where to begin or how to end but he knew, no hoped, that wouldn’t matter to you.

To you he wanted to stumble over his words as he tried to figure out how to express all the regret he felt. He wanted to break down or perhaps collapse in front of you because he was so fucking tired and you would make sure he could rest peacefully at least for a night. He wanted to mutter the words “I’m sorry” to you because they had once been hard for him to say but with you they came easy because with you he meant it.

But that would never happen.

If he was being truthful he hoped you would forget about him. It would be better off that way. Chances of coming home were slim and if the universe could send a message to you he’d ask it to let you know he was okay. Physically, at least. Or if miracles were real you’d move on and quit worrying for him like he knew you were doing. Love was giving back and he would do anything for you, search the depths of the known and cross into the unknowing in order to get back to you.

You were the first person to ever give back to him without getting something in return.

He figured someone that genuine would search the universe for him too.

The idea of it was pleasant but he hoped more than anything that you’d stop.

So, come on get higher, loosen my lips

Faith and desire and the swing of your hips

Just pull me down hard

And drown me in love

Nights were easier with the shadow of you to accompany him.

Ghosts of memories lingered vaguely and he could remember those precious moments where his lips would upturn due to the little things you did. If you studied together, you always brought coffee for him. If you stayed up late together, you always made sure he ate. Your caring actions pulled his head out of the clouds consisting of logic and reason.

He craved your affection. He didn’t realize how much he’d miss it. His whole life Five had always thought he had taken care of himself. He never realized you carried a large weight that now fell back on his shoulders.

Being drowned in love seemed rather vulgar at first but he imagined your waters would bring a peaceful death.

So, come on get higher, loosen my lips

Faith and desire and the swing of your hips

Just pull me down hard

And drown me in love

Delirium.

It forced loose smiles on his face from things that weren’t there.

Five was afraid he was beginning to imagine you. But was that all so bad? He was surviving and that was what mattered. After all, your ghost was pushing forward.

Funny, how even if you weren’t physically there you still looked after him.

I miss the sound of your voice

Loudest thing in my head

And I ache to remember

All the violent, sweet

Perfect words that you said

The sun only intensified the illusions his mind was stirring up.

Your voice in his head, he trekked from water to water, can to can. Searching for anything he could use to survive. He could imagine your sweet scolding; angered at him for being so reckless yet proud that he had accomplished what he had wanted. There would be no hatred between you two, only understanding, empathy, sympathy.

As there always had been.

You always understood.

If I could walk on water

If I could tell you what’s next

I’d make you believe

I’d make you forget

Months went on and each one stayed the same. Sun and rubble and loose thoughts. His brothers, his sisters, Grace, Pogo, his father… you.

No one to save him.

His own memories of you resurfacing in order to save him.

Until someone did show up to save him…

So, come on get higher, loosen my lips

Faith and desire and the swing of your hips

Just pull me down hard

And drown me in love

FORTY FIVE YEARS LATER

The job at the Commission suited him well.

Currently the Parisian streets were cluttered and the small 1950s café was bustling with conversation and joy. He could picture you and his family here clearly. Klaus would fit right in with a goofy cap on his head, smoking a cigarette outside the café. Luther and Allison would be side by side window shopping. He’d accompany Vanya to a symphony at Versaille. Diego would be enthralled with Moulin Rouge and Ben would appreciate the louvre and you… he’d take you anywhere you liked.

He saw your face in crowds and heard your laugh in theaters. It was what kept Five from going completely off the deep end. With each murder and each assassination he imagined a happier scenario to suit it; visiting Cathedrals with you and his family, listening to the sound of their bickering which he missed so dearly. You’d make sure he ate and you’d make a joke to something he’d find funny like Freudian or Dickens and you’d smile as his lips turned upwards only slightly.

Everything would be perfect.

He just had to find his way back.

So, come on get higher, loosen my lips

Faith and desire and the swing of your hips

Just pull me down hard

And drown me in love

He saw you in Sacramento, Mumbai, Arizona. Your eyes were in the streams of the Nile. Your smile was the blazing sun in Patagonia. Klaus was in the ash-stained streets of Berlin. He could catch Allison’s heart in Naples and Luther’s pride in the ruins of Rome. Ben was in the boisterous air in Barcelona, Diego’s voice could be heard in the Brazilian Carnival and he almost swore he saw Vanya beside a river bank in Oslo.

Wherever Five went a part of his old life lingered and he could never truly let go. The reminder that he was once loved, or possibly still loved, was encouraging. Books soon cluttered in his bags. Theories of time travel and quantum physics of which he hadn’t studied for years but he clung to the hope that this time he’d be smart enough.

That this time he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

I miss the pull of your heart

I taste the sparks on your tongue

With each hour he spent studying and calculating and pouring over little infinities he was reminded of your words whenever he worked. Small sarcastic remarks that would have caused him to snap at his siblings but it was somehow alright if you said it. He could remember your handwriting, feeding him sources from beside him. The calm muse you were in whenever the two of you dove into something. He found himself trying to replicate it on his own but it wasn’t the same.

Home was so close. He could feel it by now. Numbers were crunching together and soon he’d have a plan all in set. Even after forty years you still were the one who resonated in his mind the most. It still felt like you were sitting beside him as he researched and perhaps like many quantum theories suggested, there was another reality where you were next to him.

He was determined to get back to that reality.

I see angels and devils

And God, when you come on

Hold on, hold on, hold on

Numbers upon numbers.

He was so fucking close.

And then the numbers seemed to fall into place.

Hawkins would’ve been proud.

So come on get higher

Loosen my lips

Faith and desire and the swing of your hips

Just pull me down hard

And drown me in love

Dealey Plaza was crowded with prospects of the president coming into town.

Five Hargreeves was attempting the impossible today.

Other than the order to assassinate the president, he was planning to dodge the order all together. He had found the numbers. At least what he thought were the right numbers. He’d have to be quick. His case was on the floor, his hands were beginning to glow and concentration… his family was in arms reach by now.

The anomaly formed, his eyes widened.

Without a single concern he walked straight in.

So come on get higher

Loosen my lips

Faith and desire and the swing of your hips

Just pull me down hard

And drown me, drown me in love

It burned like no other.

HIs mind felt as though it was tearing itself apart.

Five was instantly regretting stepping inside. Something had gone wrong. It was the end of the line for him and all because of a simple slip up on his part. At that point it didn’t even matter to him. Death would be greeted as an old friend.

But then there was a moment of clarity.

“What is that?”

“What was that supposed to do, Klaus?”

Your voice, his brother’s voice. He could hear them. Clear as day. He opened his eyes, everything was covered in a haze of blue. With a jolt the universe sent him forward. His body hit the ground with a thud.

Voices were echoing around him.

It’s all wrong, it’s all wrong

It’s all wrong, it’s so right

“Does anyone else see little number five?”

He looked up and it took everything in him to not drop his jaw in awe. There before him stood Klaus and in line with him, all his siblings and at the end you. Klaus’s words didn’t seem to matter anymore because there he stood, back at home and in his own flesh although one that belonged to the younger him.

And you were there.

They all were.

Older, taller, more grown into your features but he could recognize each of his siblings. Your smile was the brightest as though you knew somewhere deep down that he’d always return. The silence between you was still peaceful and now that he was in the moment he appreciated it so much more.

So come on, get higher

So come on and get higher

‘Cause everything works, love

Everything works in your arms

You smiled.

He gave a soft grin.

It may have shocked everyone to see him hug you tightly. His face expressionless but words quietly coming from his lips. “I’m sorry.” he whispered.

You only laughed. “It’s okay, Five.”

“It’s okay.”

—

Let me know what you thought? (I told you it was shitty). Send an ask to be part of the taglist.

The Umbrella Academy Taglist: @lxncelot@fandoms-are-my-friends-1321@jackys-stuff-blog

Pairing: Luther Hargreeves x platonic!astronaut!gn!reader

Word Count:1818

Warnings: none! inspired by elton john’s song rocket-man

A/N: once again, not back but i thought of this and was bored and decided to write it. it probably sucks because i haven’t written in so long.

Tags:@scvrlletand@johnmurphyisqueer (thanks for the inspo, ry <3

Summary: I’m a rocket-man, burning out his fuse up here alone.

Day 62

There was nothing you loved more than stars and the way they stood out against the black void of the universe or the misty colors of the planet you left behind.

But even beauty held sadness. Or perhaps it was the other way around? After sixty-two days of wandering in space you still hadn’t found the answer.

You knew there was a madness to your job. An obsession, a drive, a passion. A few rare people are crazy enough to abandon the comforts of their homes and routine lives, their families, all to explore an ever expanding universe alone. Not many things triumphed over the contentment of home but the unignorable call of curiosity did.

And boy was it calling to you now.

It had been smooth sailing for the past hour, the buzz of the radio Walkie-Talkie dulling your senses. Stars twinkled and you had already sent your daily report to your boss back at the launch site so the only real thing left to conquer was isolation and boredom.

Which is when curiosity tickled your insides.

A smirk came over your face as you rolled over onto your side, slowly turning the knob on your radio. In came the static, a peaceful hum but one that did not satisfy you. You sighed, continuing to turn the knob for a minute or two until you blinked, clear and concise classical music being heard through the buzz. Vivaldi?

“Hello?” you asked, brows furrowed in confusion. “Hello?”

The music stopped, the gruff voice of a man coming through the radio. “Hello? Who is this?”

You smiled, staring out into the open void of space at where the source could be coming from. A stupid idea, you knew, seeing as the radio could reach for miles and miles and all you could see was the grey speck of the moon and the small clusters of stars. “This is Y/N L/N. I’m with NASA.”

“NASA?”the man questioned. He didn’t sound all that enthused. “How’d you tune into this frequency? This is a private communication line.”

This man was already ticking you off. He had a rude but slightly curious tone to his voice as though he were trying to cover up his curiosity with an authoritative humph. “I’m an astronaut.” you replied. “I was just searching through the frequencies.”

“Well, this is a private communication line.”

“So you’ve said.”

The man huffed. “So don’t tune in again!”

“Hey, wait!” you called, not sure if the man was still listening. “Look. I’m sorry.” you picked at the cuticles on your fingers. “I’m sorry. I’m alone. I’ve been alone for sixty-two days now up here. I just… got bored.”

It took a minute for a reply to come through as though the man were contemplating on whether or not he should reply. You were about to turn off your line when the voice returned. “I’ve been up here for three years now.”

Your eyes widened, heart plummeting for the man. “Shit- three years?”

“Yeah,”he said sadly. “Like I said, private mission.”

At his words, your eyes wandered around your own spacecraft, it’s clean but empty appearance. You couldn’t imagine being stuck here for years. “Are you on a craft?”

“No, the moon.” he let out a breath of air, something between a laugh and a scoff.

“I haven’t heard of any moon missions that long.” you search your brain as you think. “Are you with Britain? China? Russia?”

“What? No!” he laughed, your questioning tone being the only source of emotion he’d heard in years. It was odd how much emotion it had drawn from him. Such a simple question. It was the longest conversation he had had in a while. “I’m American.” There was another pause. “I shouldn’t be telling you all this to be honest.”

“Maybe you want to.” you offer, blankly and quite literally staring into the view of space out the window. “After all, you’ve been here for three years.”

He chuckles. “Right.”

Surprisingly, you smile. “As much as I’d love to pester you about why you’re up here, I don’t want to tire you out.” Silence. “Can I at least know your name?”

The man sighs. “Luther. Luther Hargreeves.”

What a pleasant name (or perhaps the only new name you’d heard in a while). “Well, goodbye, Luther.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

And all that was left was static, stars, and some sense of hope.

Day 63

Despite its hardships, you still loved your job. You did your duties well, the open universe just a glance out the window. You moved slowly each day, collecting photographs, evidence, observations. Fragments of space to bring home and analyze but it had never been about the science, only your desire to touch the mysteries of the galaxy.

But you found yourself in the same position as before, isolated and alone. Thoughts of your family and friends

At the same time the previous night you found yourself searching the radio channel, listening in for that sweet sound of Vivaldi’s four seasons. It greeted you like a wave of reassurance as you waited for the song to end before tapping in.

“You have such refined taste in music, Hargreeves.”

There was a grumble on the other end although he didn’t sound as angered this time around. “I thought I told you not to tap in here anymore.”

“I do recall that but then again, I’m terrible at listening to directions.”

“I can tell,” he scolded. “Does your boss know you tap in here? I have a good feeling he doesn’t.”

You chuckle at that, knowing Luther wouldn’t be able to reach your boss back on earth. Your eyes settle on the planet, mist clouding the African plates. “It’ll be our secret, Hargreeves. Bet you haven’t kept one of those in a while.”

He gave an airy chuckle. “Never been good with secrets.” An uncomfortable chuckle followed. “Strict father.”

You blinked, forgetting that despite not seeing him, Luther Hargreeves was as much a person as anyone else. Three years wasted without another soul to swap stories with, confide in, trustin.

“I’d suppose that meant you’d have more secrets.” you confess. “Was your mother any nicer?”

Radio silence. “I didn’t really have one. I mean, sort of?” he gave a huff. “It’s all very confusing and a long story.”

You have a soft smile, something he couldn’t see but you hoped he could feel. “I’m all ears.”

And surprisingly, he told you everything. You stared into the dark void, the white lights of your spacecraft being the only source of sight as you listened to Luther’s story like a child listened to a fairytale. The movie of his life enfolded in the black folds of the universe from superpowers to bank robberies. The death of his brother, the tenuous but deep love for his remaining siblings. Ape transformations, nights sneaking out.

You heard it all.

And you were a fantastic listener. You commented on all the right moments, empathized when you thought he had no one (you didn’t realize how true it was), laughed at the jokes that were funny and laughed at the ones that weren’t. Lord, how great it felt to have someone to share the universe with.

It made the stars feel a little warmer.

Luther offered the same courtesy to you. You talked of your mother and your father and of your sister back at home. You explained the dreams of the unknown that you’d had since you were a little kid.

“I’ve always wanted to be here, you know? It’s been my dream since I can remember.”

“I can tell,” he confessed warmly. “Just the tone of your voice gives it away.”

You blinked. “Really?”

“Really.”he chuckled. “Your voice speeds up and you sound like you’re getting carried away somewhere far off.”

“Oh.” you mumble, a warm smile overtaking your features. No one had ever described something so simple in such detail. “What was your dream?”

He sighed, your fingers drummed on the cold surface. “I don’t know. I just wanted someone to be proud of me.”

Radio silence.

You weren’t quite sure what to say.

“I’m proud of you, Luther.”

…

“Thanks, Y/N.”

You smiled and gave a small hum. “It’s getting late, Hargreeves. I’ve got to clock out.”

“Me too.” he was quiet. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You were somewhat unable to contain your smile. “Goodnight, Rocket-Man.”

“Rocket-?”you turned off your radio with a chuckle, leaving him to wonder for a while.

Day 66

Your daily tasks had increased in small intervals each day leaving no room to talk to Luther out of pure exhaustion. It left a hollow feeling in your stomach. You knew he was out there somewhere but untouchable due to something as human as sleep.

But luckily, on day sixty-six things began to slow. You completed your tasks with quite a bit of effort but still managed to finish in time to tap into the radio line and be welcomed by a jokingly frustrated Luther.

“What did you mean by rocket-man?” he inquired with a huff.

You laughed as you pictured what his face probably looked like. Scrunched, pout, a dab of frustration. “Relax, Hargreeves. No hello? No, how are you?”

He huffed. “I don’t like being left out of things.”

The frustration in his voice made you smile. “Haven’t you listened to Elton John before?”

“Elton John?”

You gasped. “Luther Hargreeves you haven’t listened to Elton John? I know your father was strict but that’s simply a crime.”

Luther sighed. “If I put this song on it won’t be some joke, will it? It’s not going to tell me I’m a stupid astronaut monkey?”

Once again, your laugh was sent out to the empty void of stars and through the staticky waves of the radio. “Who would write a song about that?”

You guessed he was rolling his eyes for a mocking of your statement followed before a bit of silence and then some piano.

And music spoke more depth than either of you could muster with your lonely hearts and troubled pasts. And in that moment you hoped that the words and the keys would speak to him the way they once spoke to you and that he’d find meaning in them the way you had found it.

“It’s beautiful.”

The corners of your lips rose and you wished more than anything that he could see it. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“It almost feels too special.”

Although he couldn’t see you and even if he was here you doubted the artificial light of the ship would illuminate your face enough to depict your slow shake of your head. You glanced at the stars and the small wisps of colors that were dancing in the blanket of nothingness. “You’re special, Luther. Remember that, okay?”

The static communicated his grin as best it could.

“Rocket-man, huh?”

“Yeah. Rocket-man.”

—

requested:you know it was ;)

part one

Leading him back into the theatre, your heart thudded against your ribs in your chest as lights shone onto your face. Fuck, what on earth were you doing? Taking a deep breath deep into your lungs, you pushed the swirling whirlpool of thoughts away. You needed to do this - just to get it over with. 

Five appeared by your side, the overhead lights illuminating his smug grin like golden sun rays. “So… where are we going?” 

Refusing to meet his gaze, - you knew if you looked into those harsh eyes you wouldn’t be able to go through with your plan - you concentrated on keeping your eyes trained on the ground as you replied, “Backstage. There’s something I need you to do.”

Laughter bubbled from his chest as he grinned, “Aww, finally taking me up on my offer, are you?” 

Shame flushed on your cheeks like a blossoming rose as you attempted to hide your bashful smile. “I…No, that’s - that’s not it at all.”

Stopping suddenly by your side, Five grabbed your arm and spun you to face him. As his skin touched yours you almost jolted away from him at the feeling that ran up your skin, goosebumps forming on your arms. “Holy shit, you actually do want me to kiss you!”

Burning from the inside out, you opened your mouth to speak in response to the shit-eating grin on his face. “No! It’s just - before the play and all… I don’t actually want to kiss you. I’ve just… I’ve never been kissed before and I just - ugh, I hate you.” Reaching up to cover your face, you shrunk inwards underneath his calculating stare, shame slowly consuming you.

A calming heat began to swirl over your skin as Five leaned closer, lowering his head to yours. His hands wrapped around yours, pulling them away from your face in order to meet your eyes. You couldn’t think in that moment - couldn’t breathe - as he drew closer, his nose almost brushing against yours. And his eyes - god, the intensity in those eyes - sea green and passionate, and so, so alluring. 

As you began to lean forward to meet him in a kiss, a soft whisper escaped his lips, rooting you to the spot where you stood. “In your dreams, Y/L/N.”

You stood for what felt like hours after he had walked away, attempting to process what had just happened, your mouth agape in shock. You couldn’t take your eyes off his receding figure as he strode out of the theatre, an awful pit forming in your stomach where the heat of excitement had resided only a few moments before. 

Weeks later, after torturous rehearsals filled with his mocking grin and having to pretend you loved him - impossible in any universe - it was finally show night. The costumes had been adjusted - you had almost swooned at the dress picked out for you - and lines learnt, the cast chattering together in apprehension about performing in front of hundreds of people.

As your friend finished applying a light blush to your cheeks, you frowned at her, asking “Do you really think people will believe that I’m in love with him? It’s hard enough to pretend in front of you guys, let alone a whole crowd.” Covering a snicker, she smiled at you, amusement flashing in her eyes.

“Y/n, the chemistry’s been undeniable the whole time.”

“Chemistry? Please,” you raised an eyebrow at her. “Not with him.”

Your thoughts were interrupted by a stirring commotion on the other side of the mirrors. You knew who it was; you could recognise that arrogant voice anywhere. “No way!” Storming around the back to face whatever he was whining about now, your hands came to rest on your hips as you took in the scene before you. Five sat in a chair, surrounded by flustered makeup artists holding all manner of cosmetics. 

“What’s your problem, Hargreeves?”

He levelled a cold glare at you, looking you up and down in your costume. “What’s your problem, Y/L/N?”

“You’re my problem.”

Someone standing behind him grinned at the bickering, adding, “He refuses to wear makeup for the show.”

Scoffing at how ridiculous he was, you waved them away. “Let me handle it.”

As you grabbed some of the makeup from the side, you gradually became aware of how empty the room was; it was just you and Five now. Swallowing the lump that formed in your throat, you stepped closer to the chair he sat in, leaning closer to dab some foundation under his eyes. You did your best to avoid meeting his gaze, which - unbeknownst to you - was following your every move with a deep longing. 

“See, if you hadn’t been so fussy, neither of us would’ve had to be in this situation right now,” you prodded, continuing to apply makeup to his gorgeous, insufferable face. His skin was smooth, and soft under your fingertips. A strange desire to trace his features washed over you like crushing wave, but you pushed it away, reminding yourself of how he had left you standing in the theatre weeks ago, careless of how he had made you feel.

When he didn’t respond to your snark you did glance up at him, finally noticing how focused he was on you. It felt strange to be under such scrutiny, but not uncomfortable. Ignoring him, you continued. You had almost finished; all that was left was… lip balm. Fuck me, really? You internally groaned, recoiling at the idea of having to relive the closeness of that night. 

Forcing your pride down, you leaned even closer, using your index finger to carefully dab lightly-coloured balm onto his lips. They parted as you touched them, and he let out a soft sigh. In response to the sound, your eyes flicked up to meet his, and you recognised the look in his eyes: he wanted to kiss you. 

“Y/N.”

His voice was careful, apprehensive, as if any noise might scare you away from him. You looked back down at his lips, realising how close your faces were; if you had moved forward an inch, your lips would touch his. You wanted to; every muscle in your body urged you to move forward, a heat spreading through you as butterflies erupted in your stomach. 

He shifted closer in his seat, his fingertips brushing against your bare arm as if asking for permission. You gave it, tilting your head down to move even closer. Your nose brushed against his as your eyes closed slightly, feeling the warmth of his breath on your skin. Your lips touched his, just a brush of heat as your fingers on his cheek directed him closer. Before your lips could meet properly, however, you pulled away, leaving him cold and unsatisfied. Holding his gaze you began to back towards the door, raising an eyebrow and giving him a smug smile, your head tilting to the side. You hoped he enjoyed a taste of his medicine. 

Later, on stage, everything felt different. Nothing you said had any weight in the real world, and you were someone else entirely. You moved with the grace of an angel, your eyes playfully dancing with Five’s, the almost-kiss lingering between you. Except, he wasn’t the smug bastard you knew, he was Romeo; beautiful and romantic and enchanting. 

He moved closer to you now, teasing, “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

Smiling, you recited your lines in return, “Ay pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.” He moved closer still, and you could feel electricity radiating off of his skin and onto yours.

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant though, lest faith turn to despair.” Reluctantly, you pulled away from his inviting gaze, your steps echoing across the stage.

“Saints do not move, through grant for prayers’ sake.”

Again, he moved closer, so much more so than ever before in rehearsals. Your heart sped up, blood thrumming in your veins. “Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take. Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.” His eyes were almost pleading as he looked down at you, his hand raising to your cheek. You could feel the heat rising to your face at his touch, knowing that this time, you couldn’t escape his touch. You closed your eyes as his lips pressed against yours, melting into his touch. It was even better than you had expected, and you pushed forward, ensuring that you were as close to him as possible. He pulled away too soon, his eyes focused on your lips.

You managed to remember your lines not a moment too soon after the kiss rendered you unable to catch your breath. “Then have my lips the sin that they have took?” You couldn’t escape his gaze, intensity burning into you; he wasn’t acting anymore.

He whispered back, “Sin from thy lips? Oh trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.” With that, he pressed his lips against yours again, almost desperately. This kiss was different somehow: more urgent and real, something that you both realised was long overdue. Your lips moved in sync as time seemed to fade away, forgetting the crowd. His hands cupped your cheeks, holding you against him gently as you both revelled in the feeling. Eventually - reluctantly - you pulled away for air, resting your forehead against his as a smile played on your lips.

“You kiss by th’ book,” you whispered, unable to step away from him, or remove your hands from where they rested on his neck. His grip on your waist tightened as a cheer arose from the crowd, subtly tugging you closer. You grinned at him - at Five, not Romeo - the smugness in his eyes replaced by adoration. “I waited too long to do that,” he muttered quietly, leaning in to kiss you again.

TAGLIST:@sandalwoodstudy@ameliatrh@edgy-teen-wannabe@dadzawas-eyebags@moonflowersandsparkles@maddiecl14 @just-a-bit-odd@wittysidecharacter@campcampie@classyasssuperbitch @waffle-loving-dragon @five-hg@lucyrocks86@idklol707@gespirida@xxitsaeonxx@yuukiahim @inlovebby@sheerhotspace @animemes-trash@lucyrocks86@i-need-coffee-in-an-iv@emilyt0314  (p.s if you wanna be added to the taglist, let me know!)

Drunk!Five x Reader (+Klaus)

requested: Heya! I absolutely LOVE your writing (probably as much as I love Five, which is a lot!) and I was wondering if I could send you a quick request? If you have the time (and if you’re interested), could you write about Dunk!Five confessing his feelings/telling the Reader he loves them for the first time? Thank you so much!!

(@fandom-feline) Could you do one where Five is hella drunk and has no filter? He just goes on about the apocalypse and how touch starved he is and the reader is like “ok cuddles then” and then Five, with slurred speech is like “no I need my dignity”

a/n: god i love drunk!five what a mesS (also fuckin finally it took me way too long to get this up)

“I’ve got an idea!” Klaus exclaimed, his words slurring together slightly like crashing waves as he raised a bottle of whiskey in celebration of his ‘miracle’ thought. 

Giggling childishly, you leant against Five on the sofa, your head falling onto his shoulder as the world began to spin slightly, a headache blossoming at the back of your skull. “What’s your fabulous idea, Klaus?”

Stumbling towards you both, Klaus collapsed on the sofa between Five and you, separating you from his warm touch. You whined quietly at the loss of contact like a touch-starved puppy, and Five sighed in annoyance at his erratic brother. Wrapping his arms around the both of you, his hand patting your shoulder, Klaus whispered excitedly, “Let’s play hide and seek! Come on, come on - I’ll count to twenty.” 

“Like when we were kids?”

“Yes, but no cheating! You can’t use your stupid jumpy things to win this one, you little psychopath.” Shoving you off the sofa, Klaus whooped, “Go!!!”

As you groaned at the idea, Five grabbed your hand and pulled you upstairs, awkwardly managing to spatial jump half of the way. In his liquor haze, Five forgot he was supposed to be articulate and mature, not a boy who was enthralled at the idea of playing hide and seek. You couldn’t help but smile at his childish excitement, allowing him to pull you both into a closet on the first floor, explaining, “We can hide here.”

Unable to stop laughing at his serious expression, you lost your remaining self-control and became slightly hysterical as the liquor in your system continued to invade your sobriety. A hand slapped over your mouth in an attempt to quiet your laughter, startling you.

“Hey!” Your voice was muffled by Five’s hand, as he pressed a finger against his own lips, shushing you. A few moments of silence passed, and you began to realise how close you were standing to Five; his chest was pressed against yours with your noses almost touching. You couldn’t move anywhere; there was no room to move at all, especially not backwards. Heat spread up your cheeks at the proximity as Five’s hand slowly dropped from its place over your lips. His eyes bore into yours: sea green and wiped free of the past; untainted by painful memories.

His fingertips slid down your face in awe, beginning to softly trace the outline of your lips. The alcohol he had consumed that night was still coursing through his veins, blurring any of his remaining inhibitions. You released a breath you hadn’t known you were holding as he whispered, “Your lips are really soft.”

His eyes stayed trained on your face as he began to move closer to you, murmuring, “And I think I - you’re the most beautiful person I’ve seen in my entire life.” Leaning up on your tiptoes instinctively, Five cupped your cheek, tilting your head upward towards his. Before you could press your lips to his in a long-awaited kiss, a bright light illuminated the cupboard, and you squinted your eyes in response to the shock.

“Ha! Found you. I win,” Klaus crowed, unaware of the events occurring between Five and you. “Now I’m gonna hide and you have to find me.”

“Sure, Klaus,” Five smiled happily as he left the cupboard, grabbing your hand behind his back. As Klaus ran off excitedly down the corridor, Five led you in the opposite direction, laughing to himself.

“Where are we going?” you grinned, racing to keep up with his fast pace. 

“Don’t worry, he’ll hide somewhere and fall asleep. We’re gonna go find some more alcohol.” He almost sang the last noun as he stumbled along, opening the door to his room and leaving you standing there as he spatial jumped. You shook your head at him, breathlessly collapsing on his bed. What had just happened? Damn that boy.

When he returned, he shook two big bottles of liquor in his hands, smirking wickedly as the liquid sloshed against the glass. You both downed more of the stinging poison, and time began to blur together.

Hours later, you were still listening to Five babble on about the apocalypse and how lonely it made him as he sloppily danced around his room. It seemed that alcohol dissolved any filter Five maintained while sober, allowing him to experience the freedom of childhood that he had never truly had. Grabbing your hands, he lifted you from where you sat and you squealed at the force he pulled you with.

“If I tell you something, can you keep it a secret?” He giggled childishly, imitating a shushing sound. You nodded at him to continue. “I think…that I might be in lov-” he hiccuped, “in love with you.”

At his words, your mind ricocheted back to sober reality as you blinked in surprise. “W-what?”

“But don’t tell Y/n, because she can’t know.” Five collapsed on to the pillows on his bed, opening his arms for you to join him.

“Okay, Five. I won’t tell her. I promise.” 

He began babbling again. “After the apocalypse and everything…I just…I like being held, you know? It makes me feel s-safe and warm,” he slurred. Smiling at his confession, you moved closer to him. “Like I’m in a nice microwave…”

You couldn’t wipe the grin off your face. “Cuddles, then?” 

“No,” Five groaned, pulling you into his arms despite his protests. “I need my dignity.”

Snuggling into his chest as his arms tightened around you, you mumbled, “You can still hug me and keep your stupid dignity, you know?”

Lightly pressing a kiss to your forehead, his eyes slid shut as his head fell back onto his pillow. A few moments later, a soft snore came from above you, and you looked up to find Five passed out. Even sleeping, he looked beautiful, as if he was handcrafted by angels. 

“I think I might be in love with you too, Hargreeves. Even if you can only admit it while drunk.”

TAGLIST:@sandalwoodstudy@ameliatrh@edgy-teen-wannabe@dadzawas-eyebags@moonflowersandsparkles@maddiecl14@just-a-bit-odd@wittysidecharacter@campcampie@classyasssuperbitch @waffle-loving-dragon@five-hg@lucyrocks86@idklol707@gespirida@xxitsaeonxx@yuukiahim@thepotatopeel@winchester-and-proud @sheerhotspace @alexander-reformed@sociopath-ravenclaw@sweet-hyunjinn @roryrooroo @scream-kiwi79 @belinhameow@missingyoucth