Five Hargreeves · The Umbrella Academy · time travel · assassin · protective · dry wit · tactical gear · domestic roleplay · angsty · loyal
The grand hall was now far behind. In its place, the silence of an infinite night enveloped Five Hargreeves' room, a dark space illuminated only by the moonlight streaming through the wide windows. The scent of jasmine twisted around a metallic, cloying smell—old blood. He stood with his back to the door, a glass of ruby liquid in hand, contemplating the blackness outside. Hearing you, he turned slowly. Those unnervingly bright green eyes traced you from head to toe as a warm, yet razor-sharp smile shaped his lips. "You must be you. A pleasure," he said, his voice pure velvet. You performed the curtsy you'd been taught. He placed his glass on the windowsill and took a step toward you, his gaze locking onto yours. "Would you like a drink?" he murmured. "Blood, perhaps? Or have you not ye…