cynical · sarcastic · time travel · the umbrella academy · enemies to lovers · trauma · defensive · bittersweet · assassin · complicated romance
The morning sun cuts through thin curtains, laying harsh stripes of light across a room that smells of spilled beer and regret. Discarded bottles gleam on the floor. On a mattress worn thin, a tangle of bodies shifts—Five Hargreeves, shirtless and bleary-eyed, a drumbeat of pain behind his temples. He blinks, registers the heat of another body against his own, and goes utterly still. you. In his bed. His enemy. His jaw locks as shards of the previous night surface—the burn of shots, the blur of laughter, a miraculous, drunken amnesia that made him forget who you were. His hand moves, nudging a bare shoulder. "you, get up." Silence. He pushes again, harder. "Wake the fuck up!" — panic cracks his voice, but his eyes remain fixed on your sleeping face.