InkSpired Writing

Started: 03/24/2025

Updates: Every Monday

Masterlist Part 1

Hargreeves Family Masterlist

The Umbrella Academy

One Shots

Five Hargreeves

Love in the Midst of Chaos

Welcome to the Umbrella Academy

Gone

The Best Coffee

A Sweet Crush

Without her

Capable of terrible things

Broke the rules

Little Ballerina

The Fainting Incident

Road trip with the Hargreeves

Finding love in the CIA

Guess who’s back

Hangover aftermath

In the Quiet Between Wars

No longer alone

Made with Clay, Painted with Love

The Birthday That Mattered

Drunken Duets & Sibling Regrets

Contentmen

The King and Queen of the City

The Elevator

Stubborn love

Masquerade

The Equation of Us

Skills: Time Travel, Homicide, Microsoft Excel

A Love That Can’t Be Replaced

Fractures and Fixes

London calling

Scents of Trouble

Breaking Through the Walls

The Devil You Know

Five vs. The Worst Waiter Alive

Just a Cup of Coffee

Five vs. The Driving Instructor

The Great Cigarette Scandal

CIA, PMS, and WTF?

Drunk Koala

Clifford the mustache

The Missing Piece

Damn glasses

Safe in His Arms

Dinner for Two (Eventually)

Until We’re Old and Gray

Everything He Wasn’t Looking For

Just a Snack

The Wedding Night (That Wasn’t)

Panic, Crackers, and Relief

like a moth to a flame.

Somewhere Out There

The Gardener Must Die (…Kidding. Mostly.)

The only thing I have left of you

The Great Affair Debacle

The voice I fell in love with

Smoke Signals and Side Dishes

Dinner for Two (Eventually) part 2

Love Is Sometimes a Dental Appointment

The Ballad of the Bowling Disaster

ABBA to the rescue

The Bed-Hog Incident

The Seventh Year

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Five picks Y/n up for their date.

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves was not the kind of person who wasted time. His life had been shaped by the necessity of precision and efficiency, with every moment counted and every action deliberate. But when it came to his girlfriend Y/n, time seemed to slow down, and he found himself enjoying the moments in between the missions and the chaos.

Tonight was one of those rare nights where they had managed to carve out some time for a date. Five had meticulously planned every detail, from the restaurant reservation to the perfect route to avoid traffic. As he parked his car in front of Y/n’s apartment building, he felt a rare sense of calm.

Stepping out of the car, he was immediately greeted by the sound of loud music. He glanced up towards Y/n’s window, curious. The scene that met his eyes made him stop in his tracks. There, in her brightly lit apartment, was Y/n, dancing and singing her heart out. She was completely immersed in the music, her movements carefree and full of joy.

Five couldn’t help but smile, a genuine, warm smile that he reserved only for her. She had a way of bringing lightness into his life, a stark contrast to the weight he usually carried on his shoulders. Leaning against his car, he watched her for a few moments, taking in the sight of her uninhibited happiness.

After a minute, he decided it was time to let her know he was there. He pulled out his phone and texted her, “I’m here, just enjoying the show from below.”

He saw her freeze mid-dance, her eyes widening as she grabbed her phone. She quickly peered out of her window, her cheeks flushing a deep red when she spotted him. Five waved, his smile turning into a playful smirk.

A few minutes later, Y/n emerged from the building, still slightly flushed but smiling brightly. She walked up to him, and Five opened the car door for her with a flourish.

“Having a private concert up there?” he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Y/n rolled her eyes, though her smile didn’t fade. “Shut up. I didn’t know you were watching.”

“Believe me, it was worth the wait,” Five replied, leaning in to kiss her lightly on the cheek. “I had no idea you had such... expressive dance moves.”

“Oh, stop it,” Y/n laughed, playfully swatting at his arm. “I was just killing time while I got ready.”

“Well, you looked like you were having fun. Maybe next time you can give me a private performance?” Five said with a wink, opening the car door wider for her.

Y/n laughed again, her eyes sparkling. “Maybe if you’re lucky,” she teased back, slipping into the passenger seat.

As Five walked around to the driver’s side, he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Being with Y/n was like a breath of fresh air, a reminder that there was more to life than saving the world and fighting off impending apocalypses.

As they drove off towards their destination, the evening air was filled with the sound of their laughter and playful banter. Five reached over to take her hand, giving

it a gentle squeeze as they drove through the city. The connection between them was undeniable, a bond that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

"So," Y/n began, glancing at Five with a mischievous smile, "what exactly did you have planned for tonight, Mr. Hargreeves?"

Five smirked, keeping his eyes on the road. "Oh, just a little surprise. I know how much you love surprises."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Really? You're full of surprises tonight. First, catching me in my private dance party and now this."

Five chuckled. "I aim to please. Besides, I figured it was time we had a night out without any interruptions."

Y/n's expression softened. "That sounds perfect."

They arrived at an intimate little restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. It was the kind of place that exuded warmth and charm, with twinkling lights and soft music playing in the background. Five had chosen it specifically for its cozy ambiance, knowing it would be the perfect setting for their date.

As they settled into their table, Y/n looked around appreciatively. "This place is lovely, Five. How did you find it?"

Five leaned back in his chair, looking pleased with himself. "Let's just say I have my ways."

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter and shared stories. Five found himself mesmerized by Y/n's every word, her every gesture. She had a way of making him forget about the weight of the world, even if just for a few hours.

Halfway through their meal, Five decided to bring up the moment that had started their evening. "So, about that dance party..."

Y/n groaned, though she was smiling. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Not a chance," Five replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You were amazing up there, you know. It was like watching pure joy."

Y/n blushed, looking down at her plate. "I guess I do get a bit carried away sometimes."

Five reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "And that's one of the things I love most about you. You bring so much light and happiness into my life. Even when things are chaotic, you remind me of what really matters."

Y/n looked up, her eyes shining with emotion. "Five..."

He squeezed her hand gently. "I mean it, Y/n. You make everything better."

For a moment, they simply sat there, lost in each other's gaze. It was a moment of pure connection, a reminder of why they were so perfect for each other.

As the evening drew to a close, they took a leisurely stroll through the nearby park, the night air cool and refreshing. Five wrapped his arm around Y/n's shoulders, pulling her close.

"This has been one of the best nights I've had in a long time," Y/n said softly, leaning into him.

"I'm glad," Five replied, kissing the top of her head. "You deserve it."

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the simple pleasure of being together. When they finally returned to Y/n's apartment, Five walked her to the door, not wanting the night to end.

"Thank you for tonight," Y/n said, smiling up at him. "It was perfect."

"Anytime," Five replied, leaning in to kiss her gently. "And by the way, if you ever feel like dancing again, don't let me stop you."

Y/n laughed, the sound like music to his ears. "I'll keep that in mind."

As she disappeared into her apartment, Five stood there for a moment, feeling an overwhelming sense of contentment. He had always believed that his life would be defined by chaos and danger, but Y/n had shown him that there was room for love and happiness too.

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Five and Y/n fight for their marriage.

Warnings: none

The seventh year didn’t arrive all at once.

It crept in quietly—like dust settling on furniture no one had touched in a while.

Five noticed it in small things first.

In the way Y/n no longer waited up for him when he worked late. In how their conversations became shorter, thinner—reduced to logistics and reminders.

Did you eat? There’s food in the fridge. I’ll be late. Okay.

Once, they had talked about everything.

Now, sometimes entire evenings passed with nothing but the hum of appliances and the distant noise of the city outside their windows.

It wasn’t that they didn’t love each other.

That was the strange part.

Five still knew exactly how Y/n took her tea. Still noticed when she was tired by the way she rubbed her wrist absently. Still felt that quiet pull in his chest whenever she walked into a room.

But something had shifted.

Something quiet. Subtle. Dangerous.

They both worked too much.

That was the excuse.

Five’s work demanded long hours, constant focus, endless problem-solving. Y/n’s job was no better—late nights, deadlines, exhaustion that clung to her even when she tried to hide it.

They passed each other like trains on different tracks.

Sometimes they shared a bed.

Sometimes they didn’t.

And when they did… it wasn’t like it used to be.

There had been a time when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other—when laughter tangled with desire, when even quiet moments felt electric.

Now, it was… careful.

Half-hearted.

Like they were both afraid of reaching for something that might not be there anymore.

So sometimes, they just didn’t try.

Five told himself it was temporary.

Stress. Work. Life.

It would pass.

It had to.

The moment everything shifted wasn’t dramatic.

It didn’t come with raised voices or shattered glass.

It happened in the break room at work.

Five stood by the coffee machine, waiting in that impatient way he always did, when one of his coworkers—Daniel—walked in, phone pressed to his ear.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Daniel said, laughing softly. “I miss you too.”

Five didn’t pay attention at first.

People made calls all the time.

But then Daniel smiled—really smiled—and leaned against the counter like the conversation mattered.

“Tonight?” he said. “Yeah, I’ll be home early. We can cook together or something.”

Five stilled.

Something about the tone caught him off guard.

It wasn’t just happiness.

It was ease.

Familiarity.

The kind that came from talking, from sharing things beyond schedules and obligations.

Daniel laughed again, softer this time.

“Yeah. I love you too.”

The call ended.

Daniel set his phone down, still smiling faintly, like he was carrying something warm inside his chest.

Five stared at his untouched coffee.

And for the first time in a long while, something sharp twisted in his chest.

Because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d sounded like that.

Or the last time Y/n had.

The realization followed him home.

It sat heavy in his chest as he unlocked the door, as he stepped inside, as he heard the quiet sounds of cooking from the kitchen.

Y/n stood at the stove, stirring something in a pan.

The light above her cast a soft glow over her shoulders.

For a moment, Five just watched her.

This was familiar.

Comforting.

And yet… distant.

“Hey,” Y/n said without turning. “You’re home early.”

Five hesitated.

“Yeah.”

She glanced over her shoulder, offering a small smile.

“There’s food in a minute.”

“Y/n.”

Something in his voice made her pause.

She turned fully this time, frowning slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

Five swallowed.

“Can we talk?”

They sat at the kitchen table.

The food was forgotten on the stove.

Y/n pulled her hands into her sleeves, a nervous habit he hadn’t seen in a while.

Five didn’t know where to start.

He had faced impossible odds, made life-or-death decisions in seconds.

But this?

This felt harder.

“I think…” he began slowly, “something’s wrong.”

Y/n didn’t interrupt.

She just watched him.

And that somehow made it worse.

“We don’t talk anymore,” Five said quietly. “Not really.”

Y/n looked down at her hands.

“I know.”

The words hit harder than he expected.

“You do?”

She nodded.

“I just… didn’t know how to fix it.”

Five exhaled shakily.

“Neither did I.”

Silence settled between them.

But it wasn’t empty.

It was full—of everything they hadn’t said.

“Do you…” Y/n started, then stopped.

Five waited.

She tried again.

“Do you think… we should—”

She couldn’t finish the sentence.

She didn’t have to.

Five felt it anyway.

Like a crack forming under his feet.

“Divorce?” he said quietly.

The word hung in the air.

Y/n flinched.

“…maybe.”

Five stared at the table.

He had expected anger. Resistance. Something loud and clear.

Not this quiet uncertainty.

Not this sadness.

“Is that what you want?” he asked.

Y/n’s head snapped up.

“No.”

Her answer was immediate.

Honest.

“But I don’t know what else to do,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly. “It feels like we’re… fading.”

Five’s chest tightened.

He nodded slowly.

“Yeah.”

They sat there for a moment.

Two people who loved each other.

And didn’t know how to reach each other anymore.

Five’s hands clenched slightly on the table.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice quieter now, rougher, “do you still love me?”

Y/n looked at him like the question itself hurt.

“Of course I do.”

There was no hesitation.

No doubt.

Just truth.

Five closed his eyes briefly, relief and pain tangling together in his chest.

Y/n swallowed.

Then, softly, she asked, “Do you still love me?”

Five let out a shaky breath.

His vision blurred before he even realized what was happening.

He reached up, brushing quickly at his eyes, frustrated.

“Y/n…” his voice broke slightly. “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved.”

The words felt raw.

Exposed.

“I don’t want a divorce,” he added quietly. “I don’t want… this to be over.”

Y/n’s lip trembled.

And then she moved.

She stood up quickly and crossed the space between them, wrapping her arms around him.

Five froze for half a second.

Then he held her back just as tightly.

Y/n buried her face in his shoulder, her voice muffled.

“I don’t want it to be over either.”

Five pressed his forehead against her hair.

“Then we fix it.”

It didn’t change overnight.

There was no sudden transformation, no perfect moment where everything fell back into place.

It was small things.

Intentional things.

They started eating dinner together again.

No phones.

No distractions.

At first, the conversations were awkward.

Careful.

But they kept trying.

One night, Y/n told him about something that had happened at work.

Five listened.

Really listened.

Asked questions.

She smiled more than she had in weeks.

Another evening, Five came home early.

Y/n blinked in surprise.

“You’re home.”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging slightly. “Thought we could… spend time together.”

She smiled.

Soft.

Hopeful.

They started going for walks.

Short ones at first.

Just around the block.

Then longer.

They talked about nothing and everything.

Old memories.

New ideas.

Things they had forgotten to share.

The distance didn’t disappear all at once.

But it shrank.

Slowly.

Steadily.

And then, one night, something shifted again.

But this time, it was good.

They were sitting on the couch, close but not quite touching.

Y/n was laughing about something small, something silly.

Five watched her.

Really watched her.

And felt that familiar warmth in his chest.

Stronger now.

Clearer.

He reached for her hand.

She looked at him, surprised.

Then smiled.

And squeezed back.

Later that night, when they lay in bed together, it wasn’t careful.

It wasn’t distant.

It was soft.

Real.

Like rediscovering something they had almost lost.

Weeks passed.

Then months.

They still worked hard.

Life was still busy.

But now, they made space for each other.

On purpose.

Every day.

One evening, Five stood in the kitchen doorway, watching Y/n cook.

The light caught her just right.

She turned, noticing him.

“What?”

He shook his head slightly.

“Nothing.”

But he stepped closer.

Wrapped his arms around her from behind.

Rested his chin on her shoulder.

Y/n leaned into him without hesitation.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi.”

For a moment, they just stood there.

Together.

The seventh year had almost broken them.

Quietly.

Slowly.

Without either of them realizing it.

But it hadn’t ended them.

Because when it mattered most—

They had stopped.

They had looked at each other.

And they had chosen to stay.

And somehow, through all the silence and distance and fear…

They had found their way back.

Not to what they used to be.

But to something stronger.

Something deeper.

Something that had been tested—and held.

And this time, when Five listened to Y/n laugh from across the room…

He didn’t feel that sharp twist of something missing.

He felt something steady.

Certain.

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Milo is going through a rebellious phase.

Warnings: none

The night had started out as uneventful as most weeknights in the Hargreeves household, though the faint tension that seemed to cling to the walls hinted otherwise. Y/n had spent the better part of the evening dealing with Milo, their 16-year-old son, who was currently entrenched in the infamous teenage rebellious phase. He and his friends had been causing trouble lately, from ditching school to pulling pranks that bordered on illegal. Y/n had had enough and, after another heated argument, grounded him.

But Milo, as stubborn as his father, had one last card to play. Standing in the living room, glaring at his mother, he spat out the words every parent dreads hearing: “I hate you!” Then, without another word, he stormed upstairs and slammed his bedroom door so hard the house seemed to shake.

Y/n froze, her hands trembling as his words echoed in her mind. She tried to hold it together, but the floodgates opened, and tears spilled down her cheeks. That was when Five walked in, setting his briefcase down by the door.

“Y/n?” he called out, his sharp eyes immediately noticing her tear-streaked face. “What happened?”

She didn’t answer right away, just shook her head as she tried to wipe her tears. “Milo...he said he hates me.”

Five’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he wrapped his arms around her. “He doesn’t mean it,” he said softly, but the anger simmering beneath his words was unmistakable. “He’s a teenager. They’re hormonal, dramatic, and...well, terrible.”

Y/n let out a half-sob, half-laugh at his dry tone, clinging to him for a moment. “I just don’t know what to do, Five. He’s been so different lately. It’s like he’s trying to push me away.”

Five pulled back slightly, his green eyes scanning hers. “He’s not pushing you away. He’s testing boundaries, and I’m about to remind him exactly where they are.”

He kissed her forehead gently before heading toward Milo’s room. But when he pushed the door open, it was empty. The window was wide open, the curtains fluttering in the cool night air.

“Unbelievable,” Five muttered under his breath. “He climbed out.”

Y/n appeared behind him, her expression shifting from sadness to worry. “Where would he go?”

Five didn’t hesitate. “The club he and his friends have been sneaking into. I’ve heard him whispering about it on the phone the other day.”

The club was as seedy as Five had imagined—dimly lit with a neon-blue glow, pulsating music that was more noise than melody, and a crowd of underage teens trying to act like adults. Five slipped inside with ease, his sharp gaze scanning the room.

Before he could get far, a lanky teenager stepped in front of him, clearly trying to play bouncer. “Hey, man. You can’t be here. This is a teen club.”

Five raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re telling me I don’t belong here?”

“Yeah,” the kid said, puffing out his chest. “This is our space.”

Five sighed, pulling out his CIA badge and flashing it under the neon lights. “I’m here for my son,” he said, his voice dripping with authority. “And if I were you, I’d get out of my way and find the nearest exit. Otherwise, you and your little friends will be in jail faster than you can blink.”

The kid’s bravado vanished, his face paling as he stepped aside. “Uh...sure, man. No problem.”

Five rolled his eyes as he walked past, muttering, “Teenagers.”

It didn’t take long to find Milo. He was in the back corner with his friends, a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other, trying desperately to look cool. Five’s sharp whistle cut through the noise like a knife, and Milo froze, his face going pale as he spotted his father.

“Dad…” Milo stammered, quickly putting out the cigarette and setting down the drink.

“Get your coat. We’re leaving,” Five said, his voice calm but carrying an edge that sent shivers down Milo’s spine.

Milo didn’t argue, knowing he was in deep trouble. He followed his father out of the club, the ride home thick with silence until Five finally spoke.

“Your mother would do anything for you and your sister,” Five said, his voice low but filled with anger. “And you thank her by telling her you hate her?”

Milo winced, staring at his hands. “I didn’t mean it…”

“Didn’t mean it?” Five snapped, glancing at him sharply. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt her? She’s in tears at home right now because of you. Your mother, the woman who loves you unconditionally, who has spent years putting up with your nonsense and still makes sure you have a good life.”

Milo shrank under his father’s scolding, but Five wasn’t finished.

“This kind of behavior,” Five continued, his voice rising, “is exactly how things started with your uncle Klaus. First, it was parties and drinking. Then smoking. And before we knew it, alcohol wasn’t enough, and things spiraled out of control. I won’t let that happen to you, Milo.”

Milo swallowed hard, his father’s words sinking in. He had never seen Five so angry, so intense. And yet, beneath the anger, he could hear the concern, the love.

“Your mother loves you,” Five said, his voice softening slightly. “She deserves better than this. And you’re going to apologize to her the moment we get home.”

Milo nodded, his eyes brimming with tears. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll apologize.”

When they walked into the house, the sound of Y/n’s muffled sobs hit Milo like a punch to the gut. He hesitated, glancing at his father, who gave him a stern nod.

Milo walked into the living room, finding his mother curled up on the couch, her face buried in her hands. “Mom…” he said softly.

Y/n looked up, her eyes red and swollen. Milo felt a pang of guilt so sharp it nearly knocked the wind out of him. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. “I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I’m sorry for everything.”

Y/n pulled him into a hug, her tears soaking into his shirt as she whispered, “I love you, Milo. I just want what’s best for you.”

Five watched from the doorway, his expression softening. Once Milo and Y/n parted, Five crossed his arms and said, “You’re grounded for four weeks. No friends, no parties, no phone. Understand?”

“Yes, Dad,” Milo said quietly, not daring to argue.

As Milo headed upstairs, Y/n leaned into Five’s arms, still sniffling. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Five kissed the top of her head, rolling his eyes. “God, teenagers are terrible.”

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Five and Y/n have to share their bed with someone.

Warnings: none

It was 2:47 in the morning, and Five Hargreeves was losing another battle.

Not against assassins. Not against time. Not even against one of Diego’s ridiculous conspiracy theories.

No—he was losing to Mr. Pennycrumb, a forty-pound golden mutt currently sprawled across his chest like a living, snoring paperweight.

Five groaned, trying to shift his position without waking his wife, Y/n, who slept blissfully on the other side of the bed. The problem was that there wasn’t another side of the bed—not anymore. There was only Y/n, her pillow fort, and the Great Wall of Dog.

“Unbelievable,” Five muttered under his breath, trying to nudge Mr. Pennycrumb off his ribcage. The dog responded by sighing deeply and spreading out even more.

Five stared at the ceiling. “He’s doing it on purpose.”

From beside him, Y/n murmured sleepily, “Hmm?”

“Your furry little co-conspirator,” Five whispered. “He’s pushing me off the bed again.”

Y/n cracked one eye open, her voice still thick with sleep. “Oh, Five. He’s not doing it on purpose. He just loves you.”

“Love shouldn’t require me to dislocate a shoulder,” Five hissed.

Y/n chuckled softly, rolling onto her side. “You could move him, you know.”

“I have moved him. Twice.”

Her lips curved into a sleepy smile. “Then move him again.”

He scowled at her, then at the dog. “Fine. Round three.”

He braced his arm against the mattress and gently tried to slide Mr. Pennycrumb toward the foot of the bed. The dog responded by lifting his head, blinking blearily—then flopping right back down with a thud, now half on top of Five’s leg.

“Excellent,” Five muttered. “I’ve lost circulation.”

Y/n snorted into her pillow, trying to hide her laughter.

“Don’t laugh at my suffering,” Five said sharply. “This is a tactical invasion of personal space.”

Y/n turned to face him, biting her lip to keep from laughing harder. “Tactical invasion, huh?”

“Yes,” he said gravely. “I have two inches of mattress left. I’m clinging to the edge like a man in a shipwreck.”

She laughed outright now, her voice bubbling through the dark. “He’s just a dog, Five.”

“He’s a bed hog disguised as a dog!”

That did it. Y/n broke into full-on laughter, clutching her blanket as she giggled. Mr. Pennycrumb, sensing the disturbance, lifted his head and yawned, before promptly shifting closer to Five, pressing against his ribs.

Five stared at the ceiling again, deadpan. “He knows.”

Y/n wiped her eyes. “Five, he’s not plotting against you.”

“Yes, he is. Look at him—he’s pretending to sleep, but I can feel the smugness radiating off of him.”

Mr. Pennycrumb gave a small snore in response.

“See? That’s a taunt,” Five said, pointing.

Y/n was laughing so hard she nearly fell off her side of the bed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous?” Five said, sitting up slightly. “I’m the one who pays the mortgage, and somehow I have less claim to the bed than the dog!”

“Because the dog is cuter.”

He turned slowly to look at her, affronted. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t act surprised,” Y/n teased. “He’s got those big brown eyes and that adorable little snout. You, on the other hand—”

“—am a man fighting for survival,” Five cut in. “If this continues, I’ll have to start sleeping standing up.”

Y/n chuckled again, reaching over to scratch Mr. Pennycrumb behind the ears. “Oh, don’t listen to Daddy. He’s just cranky.”

Five groaned. “Please don’t call me Daddy in front of the dog.”

“Oh, I think he knows,” Y/n said mischievously. “You’re the strict one.”

Five blinked. “He ate my socks yesterday.”

“Because you yelled at him for stealing your sandwich!”

“I made that sandwich!”

Y/n grinned. “And he made it better by eating it.”

Five stared at her, aghast. “You’re siding with him.”

“Of course I am.”

“This is mutiny,” Five said. “Pure and simple.”

Y/n rolled onto her back, giggling. “You know what? I think Mr. Pennycrumb’s winning this war.”

The next morning, Five woke up on the floor.

Face-first in a blanket, one pillow beneath his arm, and Mr. Pennycrumb happily stretched across his side of the bed like a fluffy king.

Y/n was already up, humming in the kitchen, coffee brewing and bacon sizzling.

He groaned, sitting up and rubbing his back. “Unbelievable. I’ve been exiled.”

“Good morning, sunshine!” Y/n called from the kitchen. “Sleep well?”

He glared down the hallway. “I slept on the floor.”

She peeked around the corner, holding a spatula. “Then why do you look so grumpy?”

“Because your furry overlord pushed me off the bed!”

Y/n laughed. “Oh, come on, you make it sound like he planned it.”

“He did plan it!” Five exclaimed. “He waited until I fell asleep, then strategically scooted me toward the edge like a furry bulldozer.”

Y/n chuckled, plating the bacon. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?” he said, pointing accusingly toward the bedroom. “Go look! He’s sprawled out diagonally across the entire bed like he pays rent.”

Y/n walked over to the doorway and peeked inside—then burst out laughing.

There he was: Mr. Pennycrumb, flat on his back, paws splayed, tail wagging lazily in his sleep.

Five threw his hands up. “See? I rest my case!”

Y/n leaned against the doorframe, giggling. “You have to admit, he’s cute.”

Five pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, he’s cute. But so is an armed raccoon—doesn’t mean I want to share a bed with one.”

Y/n smirked. “You love him.”

“I tolerate him.”

“You adore him.”

“I feed him,” Five corrected. “That’s it.”

Y/n walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You’re such a liar.”

He sighed, his expression softening slightly. “Maybe.”

She smiled up at him. “You’re just jealous.”

“Of the dog?” Five asked incredulously.

Y/n nodded, dead serious. “He gets all the cuddles.”

Five blinked. “Unbelievable. I’m competing with a dog for affection.”

Y/n grinned. “And losing.”

He groaned. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said, laughing. “You have to admit—it’s kind of adorable. Big, tough Five Hargreeves, genius time traveler, CIA agent, losing battles to a golden fluffball.”

Five muttered, “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Now, breakfast?”

That night, Five took precautions.

When Y/n came to bed, she found him standing by the mattress, hands on hips, an expression of grim determination.

“Five,” she said slowly, “what are you doing?”

He pointed at the neatly folded blanket and small dog bed beside the dresser. “I’ve established new sleeping arrangements.”

Y/n blinked. “You’re serious?”

“Completely,” Five said. “Mr. Pennycrumb has his own bed now. No more mattress monarchy.”

Y/n bit back a laugh. “You really think that’s going to work?”

“Of course it will,” Five said confidently. “I’m the human. I make the rules.”

An hour later, Five woke to find Mr. Pennycrumb curled up between him and Y/n.

“HOW?!” he whispered in disbelief.

Y/n, half-asleep, mumbled, “He used his cute face.”

Five stared at the dog. “You bribed her, didn’t you?”

Mr. Pennycrumb wagged his tail, eyes closed.

Five sighed. “This is hopeless.”

By the end of the week, Five had fallen off the bed three more times.

Once because Mr. Pennycrumb kicked him in the ribs. Once because Y/n, in her sleep, pulled the blanket too hard. And once because the dog decided to stretch—and Five was the casualty.

Y/n found it hilarious.

“Maybe we should get a bigger bed,” she suggested one morning, sipping coffee as Five limped into the kitchen.

“No,” Five grumbled. “That’ll just give him more room to conquer.”

Y/n giggled. “You could sleep on the couch.”

“I did sleep on the couch,” he said flatly. “He joined me.”

Y/n laughed so hard she nearly spilled her coffee. “He really loves you.”

Five narrowed his eyes. “You find this funny now, but one day he’s going to start hogging your pillow, and then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

“Then I’ll just use your side,” Y/n teased.

He sighed, shaking his head. “You’re all conspiring against me. You, the dog, the universe…”

She walked over, wrapping her arms around him. “You know you wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Five hesitated… then smiled faintly. “Maybe not.”

At that exact moment, Mr. Pennycrumb trotted in, tail wagging, and dropped his favorite toy at Five’s feet.

Five crouched down, scratching behind his ears. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

The dog barked happily.

Y/n smirked. “Translation: ‘I love you, Dad.’”

Five sighed, but his voice was warm when he said, “Yeah, yeah. Love you too, furball.”

That night, when Y/n came to bed, she found Five already lying down—Mr. Pennycrumb curled peacefully between them, his head resting on Five’s arm.

Y/n smiled. “Oh, so you gave in?”

Five glanced over at her, deadpan. “I’m too tired to fight him anymore.”

She chuckled softly, kissing his forehead. “Admit it. You like having him there.”

Five sighed. “Fine. Maybe a little.”

Y/n grinned. “Knew it.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling the blanket up. “But if he pushes me off the bed again, he’s sleeping outside.”

Mr. Pennycrumb gave a happy little snore in response.

Y/n laughed quietly. “He heard you. He doesn’t believe you.”

Five muttered something unintelligible, but his arm stayed right where it was—beneath the dog’s head.

And as the three of them drifted off to sleep, Y/n couldn’t help smiling.

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Y/n messed up.

A/N: I came up with this idea because I was listening to Ripley Alexander's wonderful cover of Mamma Mia.

Warnings: none

The party is loud.

Not unbearably loud—by Hargreeves family standards, this is actually relatively civilized—but still loud enough that Five already regrets agreeing to come.

Music hums through the house, people crowd the kitchen island, and somewhere in the backyard Diego is apparently arguing with Luther about whether hot dogs count as sandwiches.

Five made the mistake of listening for three seconds earlier.

Now he can never unknow it.

Beside him, Y/n is tipsy.

Not messy-drunk.

Just warm and giggly and affectionate in that soft way she gets after two glasses of wine.

Maybe three.

Five lost count when she started stealing olives from other people’s drinks.

“You’re cute when you’re grumpy,” Y/n tells him, leaning against his shoulder.

“I’m always grumpy.”

“Exactly.”

Five snorts quietly into his whiskey.

Across the living room, Klaus is attempting to explain tarot cards to a deeply confused accountant named Michael.

Michael looks terrified.

Viktor notices Five watching and mouths help him.

Five immediately looks away.

Absolutely not.

“You having fun?” Y/n asks.

“I’m surviving.”

“That’s basically your version of happiness.”

Fair.

Y/n smiles and presses a quick kiss to his cheek before wandering off toward Allison and Lila, who are loudly debating whether Diego would survive on a reality cooking show.

Five watches her go.

And despite himself, something soft settles in his chest.

Four years married, and he still catches himself staring at her sometimes.

The way she laughs with her whole body.

The way she instinctively reaches for him in crowded rooms.

The way she makes every place feel more like home.

“You’re Five, right?”

Five looks up.

One of Diego’s coworkers stands nearby holding a beer.

Tall guy. Early thirties. Friendly face.

Five thinks his name might be Aaron.

Unfortunately.

“Yes,” Five says cautiously.

Aaron grins. “Diego told me you work for the CIA.”

“Apparently, everyone here knows that.”

Aaron laughs. “Man, I bet you’ve got some crazy stories.”

Ah.

There it is.

Five suppresses a sigh.

Normally, this is the point where people either: A) think he’s joking, B) think he’s insane, or C) start asking him questions about aliens.

None of the options are good.

Still, Aaron seems harmless enough.

“Weirdly,” Five says, “the strangest story I have actually involves a Monkey in Prague.”

Aaron blinks. “Seriously?”

“It stole my coffee.”

“That’s the craziest story?”

“It became personal.”

Aaron laughs.

Five is just opening his mouth to continue when—

“Oh my god, Five.”

Y/n’s voice cuts across the room.

Warm. Teasing. Loud enough for several nearby people to hear.

Five turns.

Y/n is standing near the dining table holding a wine glass, smiling in that tipsy, affectionate way she gets when she thinks she’s being funny.

“Nobody wants to hear your apocalypse story again,” she announces dramatically.

A few people nearby laugh lightly.

Aaron chuckles awkwardly.

And Five—

Five goes still.

Just for a second.

Small enough most people wouldn’t notice.

But Y/n does not miss the way something shutters briefly behind his eyes.

It lands harder than she intended.

Much harder.

Because she’s joking.

Mostly.

Five talks about the apocalypse sometimes at parties after a drink or two, especially when people ask questions. Usually Y/n gently redirects him because afterward he tends to get quiet and distant.

She thought she was helping.

But now—

Five says nothing.

Just takes a sip of whiskey.

Aaron clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh… we were actually talking about Prague.”

Y/n’s smile falters immediately.

“Oh.”

Five sets his glass down carefully.

“The monkey,” he says calmly.

And somehow the calmness makes it worse.

“Oh,” Y/n says again, softer this time.

Five gives a small nod.

Then looks back at Aaron. “Long story short, I won.”

Aaron laughs weakly.

But the moment is already wrong now.

Y/n can feel it.

Five keeps talking politely for another minute or two, but there’s a distance in him now.

Subtle.

Controlled.

But there.

And suddenly Y/n feels sober enough to realize she may have genuinely hurt his feelings.

Oh no.

A little while later, she finds Allison near the kitchen.

“I messed up,” Y/n says immediately.

Allison glances toward the living room where Five now stands alone near the bookshelf.

“…What did you do?”

“I made fun of the apocalypse thing.”

Allison winces instantly.

“Ouch.”

“I thought he was about to start telling one of his stories again.”

“But he wasn’t.”

“I know that now.”

Allison sighs sympathetically. “Yeah, that probably hurt.”

Y/n looks miserable. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

Across the room, Five laughs quietly at something someone says.

But it’s fake.

Y/n knows his real laugh.

And that one isn’t it.

Guilt twists sharply in her stomach.

Because the apocalypse stories—

They’re too much sometimes, yes.

But they’re also real.

Those memories live in him constantly.

The loneliness.

The violence.

The years he survived completely alone.

And she’d just turned it into a joke in front of people.

God.

She’s an idiot.

The rest of the evening feels off after that.

Five isn’t rude.

That somehow makes it worse.

He’s perfectly polite.

Perfectly calm.

But he barely looks at her.

Answers become short.

Brief.

Controlled.

The cold shoulder from Five Hargreeves isn’t loud.

It’s quiet.

And somehow that hurts more.

By the time they leave, Y/n feels awful.

The drive home is silent except for the radio humming softly in the background.

Five keeps his eyes on the road.

Y/n keeps glancing at him.

“…Five.”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry.”

Five nods once.

But he doesn’t say anything else.

And Y/n’s chest aches immediately.

Because usually—even when he’s angry—he talks to her.

Now he just seems… hurt.

When they get home, Five quietly hangs up his coat and walks straight toward his study.

Y/n follows him a few steps.

“Five—”

“I still need to go through a few files for work.”

Not cold.

Not angry.

Just distant.

Then he disappears into the study and closes the door gently behind him.

Y/n stands there in the hallway feeling like the worst person alive.

Because she knows what she did wrong now.

She made him feel ridiculous.

Like his trauma was some embarrassing party trick he couldn’t stop bringing up.

And the worst part is—

He hadn’t even been talking about it.

Y/n groans softly and drops onto the couch, pressing her hands over her face.

“Great job,” she mutters to herself.

From down the hall, the study remains quiet.

No typing.

No movement.

Just silence.

Then suddenly—

An idea.

Possibly a stupid idea.

But Y/n is slightly tipsy and deeply in love with her husband, so stupid ideas happen sometimes.

Five has always had one impossible weakness:

ABBA.

Not publicly.

He would rather die than publicly admit how much he likes ABBA.

But Y/n knows.

Because three years ago she caught him humming Dancing Queen while making coffee.

He’s never recovered from the humiliation.

Y/n grabs her phone.

A moment later, the opening piano of Mamma Mia fills the apartment.

Loudly.

From inside the study comes immediate silence.

Then:

“…Y/n.”

She ignores him completely.

Instead, she climbs onto the coffee table dramatically, points down the hallway, and starts singing.

“I’ve been cheated by you since I don’t know wheeen—”

The study door stays shut.

Y/n continues anyway.

“So I made up my mind, it must come to an end—”

A muffled groan comes from behind the door.

Good.

Progress.

Y/n keeps going, swaying dramatically with the music.

“Look at me now, will I ever learn—”

The study door finally opens.

Five stands there staring at her.

Arms crossed.

Expression flat.

But his eyes—

His eyes already look softer.

Y/n points at him dramatically while singing the chorus.

“Mamma mia, here I go again—!”

Five exhales through his nose, somewhere between annoyance and reluctant amusement.

“You are unbelievable.”

Y/n hops down from the table and walks closer, still singing quietly now.

“Mamma mia… does it show again…”

Five watches her carefully.

And suddenly she doesn’t feel silly anymore.

Just sad.

Because she hurt him.

And she hates that.

The music continues softly in the background while Y/n finally stops singing altogether.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

Five says nothing at first.

Y/n twists her fingers together nervously.

“I thought I was being funny,” she admits. “But it was mean.”

Five looks down briefly.

Then back at her.

“You embarrassed me.”

The honesty in his voice hurts.

Y/n nods immediately. “I know.”

“I wasn’t even talking about that.”

“I know.”

Five leans against the doorframe with a tired sigh.

“I already feel insane half the time when I mention any of it,” he says quietly. “I don’t need help feeling worse.”

Y/n’s eyes sting instantly.

“Oh, Five…”

She steps closer carefully.

“I never want you to feel like I’m making fun of what happened to you.”

Five looks away briefly.

“You weren’t entirely wrong,” he mutters. “I do talk about it too much sometimes.”

“No,” Y/n says immediately. “You talk about it when it’s stuck in your head.”

That makes him finally look at her again.

Y/n reaches for his hand slowly.

“You survived something horrible,” she says softly. “And sometimes I think I forget how real it still feels for you.”

Five’s shoulders loosen just slightly.

“I wasn’t trying to be difficult,” she whispers.

“I know.”

“You really hurt my feelings with the silent treatment, by the way.”

That earns the tiniest flicker of amusement.

“You climbed onto furniture and weaponized ABBA.”

“And I’d do it again.”

Five snorts softly despite himself.

There he is.

Y/n steps fully into his space now, wrapping her arms around his waist carefully.

“I’m sorry,” she says again against his chest.

Five stays quiet for a second.

Then finally wraps his arms around her too.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he murmurs into her hair.

Y/n smiles immediately. “You absolutely adore me.”

“Let’s not get arrogant.”

She laughs softly.

And after a moment—

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Bowling Is physics, Basic angles, momentum, force. How hard can it be?

A/N: I am very sorry you had to wait so long. I hope you like it anyway.

Warnings: none

“I’m telling you, it’s a simple game,” Five said confidently, arms crossed over his chest.

Y/n arched an eyebrow. “You’ve never bowled before.”

“I don’t need to bowl to understand it.”

Diego, sitting across from them on the couch, snorted. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

“It’s physics,” Five continued. “Basic angles, momentum, force. I’ve survived timelines. I think I can handle rolling a ball down a lane.”

“You keep talking like that,” Klaus said, “and the bowling gods are going to humble you.”

Five shot him a glare. “Bowling gods?”

Klaus nodded solemnly. “They’re real. And they punish hubris.”

Five scoffed. “Please.”

“Okay, genius,” Y/n said, standing. “Let’s see you prove it.”

The bowling alley was bustling with activity — kids running around, the sound of pins crashing, the distinct smell of fried food and feet in the air.

Five stood at the edge of the lane, holding a bright green bowling ball.

“Why is this so heavy?” he muttered.

“Because it’s a 14-pound ball,” Y/n said. “Maybe start with a lighter one?”

“I don’t need a lighter one,” Five said, stepping toward the lane.

“Have you at least watched someone else bowl?” Luther asked.

“It’s a ball and a lane,” Five replied. “How hard can it be?”

Y/n and his siblings exchanged knowing looks.

Five lined up his shot, calculating the angle, force, and trajectory in his head. His grip was precise. His stance was perfect. He pulled his arm back and…

Thud.

The ball went careening into the gutter.

Diego burst out laughing.

“I was calculating,” Five said stiffly.

“Uh-huh,” Klaus grinned. “Calculating how to miss?”

Five’s eye twitched.

After three more gutter balls, Five was visibly irritated.

“Okay, so it’s harder than it looks,” Y/n teased.

“I’m adjusting.”

“Right. Adjusting.”

At that moment, a small boy at the next lane stepped up to bowl. He couldn’t have been older than ten. He picked up a pink ball, tossed it down the lane with all the force of a wet noodle…

Strike.

The boy turned toward Five and grinned. “Hey, mister, maybe you should try the kiddie bumpers.”

Klaus cackled.

Five’s jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed. “What’s your name?”

“Timmy.”

“Well, Timmy,” Five said coldly. “It’s not about how you start; it’s about how you finish.”

“Yeah?” Timmy smirked. “Then let’s see it.”

Five’s siblings were howling with laughter.

“Oh no,” Y/n muttered. “This is not going to end well.”

Timmy bowled another strike. And another.

Five bowled… nothing.

Timmy started trash-talking. “Wow, you sure you’re old enough to be here, mister?”

Diego, tears in his eyes from laughing so hard, clapped Five on the back. “Come on, man, are you really gonna let a ten-year-old out-bowl you?”

Five’s eyes darkened. “Absolutely not.”

He approached the ball rack with terrifying focus.

“Five,” Y/n said, warning in her voice.

“I’m fixing this.”

“Five, it’s just a game.”

“It’s not just a game anymore.”

Five picked up a ball. His hand tightened around it. He stared down the lane like he was preparing to assassinate a world leader.

He bowled.

The ball spun perfectly. It curved toward the center of the pins. Five’s eyes gleamed with triumph.

Then it stopped halfway down the lane.

The ball rolled slowly. Pathetically.

And then… it swerved into the gutter.

Timmy doubled over laughing. “Oh my God, that was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Five’s fists clenched. “This. Isn’t. Over.”

“Okay, breathe,” Y/n said, standing behind Five as he paced.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.”

Five turned to his siblings. “I’m not losing to a ten-year-old.”

“Technically, you already have,” Luther said.

Five’s eye twitched again.

“I’ve fought assassins. I’ve jumped through time. I’ve survived the apocalypse.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never survived the bowling alley,” Klaus said, winking.

Timmy stepped up and bowled.

Strike.

“I’m unstoppable!” Timmy cheered.

“I’m going to take him down,” Five growled.

Y/n grabbed his arm. “You’re a grown man.”

“That’s debatable,” Klaus whispered.

“Do you want to be the guy who emotionally destroys a ten-year-old?” Y/n asked.

“Yes.”

“Five.”

“Fine.”

It was Five’s final frame. He stood at the edge of the lane, holding the ball.

Timmy was grinning at him from the next lane.

Five narrowed his eyes.

“Okay,” Five whispered to himself. “It’s physics. Angles. Force. Timing.”

He lined up his shot.

He pulled his arm back.

And then —

Crash.

Strike.

Y/n’s mouth fell open. “You did it!”

Five turned toward Timmy. Slowly.

“Not bad,” Timmy admitted.

“Not bad?” Five repeated.

“You still lost, though,” Timmy added, grinning.

Five’s smile faded. His siblings started laughing all over again.

“You know what?” Five said. “This game is stupid.”

Timmy smirked. “Yeah. Sure it is.”

In the car ride home, Five sat with his arms crossed, glaring out the window.

“That was… an experience,” Y/n said.

Five scowled.

“You got a strike.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You know it’s supposed to be fun, right?”

“It wasn’t fun.”

“You made a child cry.”

“I did not—”

“You definitely considered it.”

Five’s scowl deepened.

“You know what the best part was?” Y/n said.

“No.”

“You were terrible.”

Five shot her a glare. “This is why I don’t do ‘fun.’”

Y/n laughed and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I think you’ll survive.”

Five sighed. “We’re never going bowling again.”

“We’ll see.”

Five’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Y/n has a toothache, but she doesn't want to go to the dentist.

Warnings: none

Y/n had been holding her cheek for three days straight.

At first, Five had assumed it was dramatic exaggeration. Y/n had a talent for turning minor inconveniences into full-blown tragedies—paper cuts became near-death experiences, mild colds were “the end,” and stubbed toes required a eulogy.

But by day three, even Five couldn’t ignore the signs.

She winced every time she drank something cold. She chewed only on one side of her mouth. She glared at her cereal as if it had personally betrayed her.

“You have a toothache,” Five said flatly from across the kitchen table.

Y/n glared back, one hand still pressed to her cheek. “I do not.”

“You’ve been holding your face like it insulted you for seventy-two hours.”

“It’s just sensitive.”

“That’s what people with cavities say.”

Y/n scoffed. “I do not have a cavity.”

Five took a sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim. “You also said you didn’t have the flu that time you passed out in the shower.”

“That was different.”

“You said the same thing.”

She pointed a spoon at him. “I am not going to the dentist.”

Five sighed the deep, long-suffering sigh of a man who had survived apocalypses but was apparently destined to die arguing with his wife over basic healthcare.

“Y/n,” he said carefully, “you need to go.”

“No.”

“You’re in pain.”

“I’ll live.”

“You’re chewing like a hamster with a secret.”

She gasped. “Rude.”

Five leaned back in his chair, studying her. He could tell—by the tension in her shoulders, the way her jaw clenched when she thought he wasn’t looking—that it hurt more than she was admitting.

“You hate the dentist,” he said.

Y/n nodded, defensive. “They poke you. And judge you. And that suction thing is a crime against humanity.”

Five nodded thoughtfully. “All true.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why do I feel like you’re planning something?”

“Because you’re married to me.”

Y/n hesitated. “You’re not planning something.”

“I’m always planning something.”

She pushed back her chair. “I’m not going. End of discussion.”

Five watched her leave the kitchen, already rubbing her cheek again.

He waited exactly five minutes.

Then he grabbed his keys.

“Get dressed,” Five said casually an hour later, leaning against the bedroom doorframe.

Y/n looked up from the couch, wrapped in a blanket, a heating pad pressed dramatically to her face. “Why?”

“We’re going shopping.”

Her eyes lit up suspiciously. “Shopping?”

“Yes.”

“For what?”

“Things.”

“That’s vague.”

“That’s shopping.”

She studied him. “You hate shopping.”

“I tolerate it.”

“You once called a mall ‘a monument to human suffering.’”

“And yet,” he said smoothly, “I’m willing to suffer. For you.”

Y/n’s suspicion deepened.

“You’re not tricking me,” she warned.

Five placed a hand over his heart. “I would never.”

She stared.

“…Okay, I would,” he corrected. “But not this time.”

Against her better judgment—and because the toothache had dulled her usual sharp instincts—Y/n got dressed.

The drive was quiet at first. Y/n reclined in her seat, eyes half-closed, while Five drove with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping absently.

“Which store?” she asked eventually.

“Surprise.”

She squinted at him. “You’re enjoying this.”

“A little.”

Ten minutes later, Five turned right.

Y/n sat up slowly.

“Why are there so many medical buildings here?”

Five said nothing.

Her eyes widened as the familiar sign came into view.

DENTAL CLINIC.

“No,” she said flatly.

Five pulled into the parking lot.

“Nope,” Y/n added, already reaching for the door handle. “Absolutely not.”

The car stopped.

Y/n whipped toward him. “You lied to me.”

“I redirected.”

“You kidnapped me!”

“You walked into the car willingly.”

“I trusted you!”

“That was your first mistake.”

She tried to open the door.

It didn’t budge.

Y/n stared. “Did you lock the doors.”

“Yes.”

She gaped at him. “You’re evil.”

“I’m effective.”

Before she could protest further, Five got out, walked around the car, and opened her door.

“Come on.”

“No.”

“Y/n.”

She crossed her arms. “I hate you.”

“Noted.”

Before she could react, Five bent down, scooped her up, and hoisted her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.

“FIVE!”

She slapped his back weakly. “PUT ME DOWN!”

“You’ll thank me later.”

“I WILL NEVER THANK YOU.”

He adjusted his grip. “Careful. You’ll jostle the tooth.”

She froze.

“…You fight dirty.”

Five smirked as he carried her toward the entrance.

Inside the clinic, the receptionist blinked once, then twice, as Five calmly set Y/n back on her feet.

“She has an appointment,” Five said.

Y/n glared at him. “I do not.”

Five smiled politely. “She does now.”

Y/n sat rigidly in the dentist’s chair, arms crossed, foot tapping.

Five stood nearby, calm as ever.

“You betrayed me,” she hissed.

“I saved you from unnecessary pain.”

“I was FINE.”

“You whimpered in your sleep.”

Her head snapped toward him. “I did not.”

“You did,” he said. “Very tragically.”

The dentist returned with a clipboard. “Looks like a cavity,” she said cheerfully.

Y/n groaned. “I knew it.”

Five raised an eyebrow. “You said you didn’t.”

“Shut up.”

The dentist smiled. “We’ll numb it. You won’t feel a thing.”

Y/n looked panicked. “I don’t like numb.”

Five stepped closer, resting a hand gently on her arm. “I’m here.”

She looked up at him, nervous despite herself.

“You promise you won’t leave?”

“I’ve faced assassins,” he said softly. “I can handle a dentist.”

She exhaled.

The procedure wasn’t fun—but it was quick.

When it was over, Y/n felt tired, numb, and vaguely offended by the entire concept of dentistry.

Five helped her into the car, buckled her seatbelt, then got in beside her.

She stared out the window, sulking.

“You okay?” he asked.

She nodded. “I hate you.”

He smiled. “I know.”

After a moment, he added, “I’m proud of you.”

She turned slowly. “For what?”

“For doing the responsible thing. Eventually.”

She scoffed. “You kidnapped me.”

“I lovingly abducted you.”

She shook her head, then laughed despite herself.

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Five said gently, starting the car, “you’re no longer in pain.”

She touched her cheek, surprised to realize it didn’t ache anymore.

“…Okay,” she admitted. “That part is nice.”

Five smirked. “You’re welcome.”

She leaned back, tired but calmer, watching the road blur past.

“…Next time,” she said, “I’m driving.”

Five chuckled softly. “Deal.”

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Little Maddie has a question.

Warnings: none

It started like any other Saturday morning.

Y/n was sipping her coffee, Five had the newspaper spread out in front of him like a man clinging to his last shred of sanity, little Milo playing with his cars, and eight-year-old Maddie was coloring at the kitchen table with the intensity of a professional artist.

Everything was quiet. Peaceful. Domestic bliss.

Until Maddie looked up, her crayon hovering in midair.

“Mommy? Daddy?” she asked innocently.

Five lowered the paper an inch. Y/n glanced up from her mug. “Yes, sweetheart?”

Maddie tilted her head, her expression deadly serious. “How are babies made?”

The room froze.

Y/n nearly spat out her coffee. Five blinked at her like someone had just pulled the fire alarm in his brain.

“I’m sorry,” Five said flatly, “what?”

Maddie repeated, slowly and clearly, “How. Are. Babies. Made?”

Y/n shot her husband a panicked look. “Okay, um—honey, why do you ask?”

“Because Chloe at school said her mom has a baby in her tummy,” Maddie explained matter-of-factly. “And then she said her parents ‘did it.’ And then everyone laughed. What’s ‘it’? And how do babies get in tummies?”

Y/n buried her face in her hands. “Oh my god.”

Five set down his newspaper, leaned forward, and muttered, “I knew sending her to public school was a mistake.”

“Five,” Y/n hissed, elbowing him. “Focus.”

Maddie tapped her crayon against the table impatiently. “Well? Don’t you know? You’re grown-ups.”

Five exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face like he was preparing to deliver a eulogy. “Alright. You want to know how babies are made? Here’s the thing—”

Y/n smacked his arm before he could get too far. “Not like that!” she whispered fiercely. “She’s eight!”

“I was going to keep it simple!” he shot back.

“Your version of simple is not my version of simple,” Y/n hissed.

Meanwhile, Maddie looked back and forth between them, suspicious. “Why are you whispering? Is it a secret?”

“No!” Y/n said too quickly.

“Yes,” Five muttered at the same time.

Maddie narrowed her eyes. “You’re hiding something.”

Y/n plastered on her brightest smile. “Sweetheart, we’re not hiding anything. It’s just… a big question.”

“Then give me a big answer.”

Y/n sighed, trying to think. “Okay. Well… babies start when two people love each other very much”

Five groaned. “Oh, we’re really doing that cliché?”

“Do you have a better one?”

“Yes, actually. Science.”

Y/n raised her eyebrows. “You want to talk science?”

“Better than love metaphors!” Five retorted.

Maddie crossed her arms. “I’m still waiting.”

Five leaned toward his daughter, hands clasped like a professor about to give a lecture. “Alright, here’s the deal. Half of the ingredients come from the mom, half from the dad. They combine, and the baby grows inside the mom’s uterus. Nine months later, voilà, baby.”

Maddie frowned. “What ingredients?”

Y/n pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh boy.”

“Well, uh,” Five faltered, realizing he’d just cornered himself. “It’s like… like baking a cake. You need flour and sugar. Mom brings flour. Dad brings sugar. You mix them together and—”

“Wait,” Maddie interrupted, wrinkling her nose. “So babies are made of cake?”

Y/n snorted into her coffee.

Five glared at her. “Not helping.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/n whispered, laughing. “Cake babies.”

Maddie, however, looked horrified. “Does that mean I’m cake?!”

“No!” Five said quickly, holding up his hands. “You’re not cake. It was an analogy.”

“What’s an anal-ogy?”

“A comparison,” Five explained. “Like… never mind. Forget the cake. You’re made of… cells. Living building blocks. Tiny things you can’t see without a microscope.”

Maddie thought about this. “So I’m tiny blocks?”

“Yes,” Five said, relieved. “Exactly.”

Y/n groaned. “She’s going to go to school Monday and tell everyone she’s made of cake and blocks.”

Maddie perked up. “I like that. Cake blocks.”

After a moment, Maddie leaned forward again, clearly not done. “Okay, but how do the ingredients get together? Like… how does the sugar and flour mix?”

Y/n nearly choked.

Five rubbed his temples. “We are not having this conversation right now.”

“Why not?” Maddie demanded. “You said I should always ask questions. And this is a question.”

Y/n sighed, shooting her husband a look that said you deal with this.

“Fine,” Five said. “It’s… biology. Moms and dads have… special parts that fit together like puzzle pieces. That’s how the ingredients meet.”

Maddie gasped, eyes wide. “Like Legos?!”

Y/n doubled over laughing, tears streaming down her face.

Five closed his eyes. “I regret everything.”

Y/n tried to pull herself together. “Okay, okay. Maddie, it’s a little more complicated than Legos, but your dad’s not wrong. Moms and dads each have a piece of a puzzle, and when they fit together, that makes a baby start growing.”

Maddie blinked. “So Chloe’s mom and dad did a puzzle, and now they’re having a baby?”

Five massaged his forehead. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

For a second, the room was quiet. Then Maddie’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Did you and Dad do a puzzle?”

Y/n froze. Five froze.

Maddie grinned. “You must have. Twice! Because me and Milo.”

Y/n’s face turned crimson. Five muttered, “This conversation is officially over.”

“Why?” Maddie asked innocently.

“Because I said so,” Five snapped.

Y/n leaned in, whispering through her laughter, “You’re blushing.”

“I am not,” Five hissed, clearly blushing.

That night, after Maddie was in bed, Y/n collapsed on the couch beside Five, still laughing.

“She thinks she’s made of cake blocks,” Y/n wheezed.

Five groaned. “This is your fault. You started with the ‘when two people love each other’ speech.”

“And you started with cake.”

He rubbed his face. “We are never speaking of this again.”

Y/n leaned against his shoulder, smirking. “Until Milo asks.”

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Dinner for Two part 2

A/N: I’m really sorry you had to wait so long, but sometimes life gets chaotic, and then I don’t always have time to write. I hope you like it anyway.

Warnings: none

Y/n should have known the universe wasn’t done embarrassing her.

Because apparently when you ask the charming, sarcastic waiter out after the worst date of your life… the universe decides you must now personally provide the chaos.

Their first date was supposed to be simple.

Coffee. Neutral territory. No chili pepper ties.

Y/n arrived early and immediately began questioning every life decision she’d ever made.

What if he only said yes to be polite?

What if he realizes I’m only funny when terrible men are insulting me?

What if I spill something?

The door opened.

Five walked in.

And somehow he looked even better without the waiter apron. Dark jacket, slightly messy hair, and that same sharp expression that suggested he was quietly evaluating the entire room.

His eyes landed on her instantly.

And he smiled.

Not the teasing smirk from the restaurant.

Something warmer.

“Good,” he said as he approached. “You’re real.”

Y/n blinked. “Excuse me?”

He sat across from her. “I was about sixty percent convinced I imagined you. You seemed far too nice to voluntarily speak to me..”

Y/n laughed despite herself.

“Well, I’m here.”

“Excellent,” Five said. “That makes this much less concerning.”

They ordered coffee, and the conversation started flowing almost immediately.

Y/n talked about her job, her tiny apartment with the kitchen window she loved, and the painting hobby she insisted she wasn’t good at.

Five listened carefully, leaning forward slightly.

“You don’t have to be good at something to enjoy it,” he said.

Y/n smiled. “You’re surprisingly nice.”

“Don’t spread that around,” he muttered. “It’ll ruin my reputation.”

She laughed.

And relaxed.

Which meant, naturally, the chaos began.

Y/n stood up to grab sugar packets from the counter.

And immediately tripped over the leg of a chair.

She flailed.

Her bag swung wildly.

Someone gasped.

Y/n caught herself on the edge of a table just before face-planting into someone’s latte.

The entire café turned to stare.

Y/n froze.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

Across the room, Five stood up halfway from his chair.

“You alive?” he asked calmly.

“Yes,” she croaked.

She walked back to the table as if nothing had happened.

Five watched her sit down.

Then he calmly slid a napkin toward her.

“For your dignity,” he said.

Y/n covered her face.

“I cannot believe that just happened.”

Five rested his chin on his hand, studying her.

“Statistically speaking, something embarrassing had to occur eventually.”

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Immensely.”

She groaned.

Five leaned closer slightly.

“For the record,” he added quietly, “you recovered impressively.”

Y/n peeked at him through her fingers.

“Really?”

“Most people would have fled the country.”

She laughed weakly.

“Still an option.”

Ten minutes later disaster struck again.

Y/n took a sip of coffee while Five was explaining his theory that instruction manuals were secretly written by sadists.

She laughed.

And choked.

Coffee sprayed everywhere.

Including directly onto the table.

And her own sleeve.

And—unfortunately—Five’s hand.

Y/n froze.

“Oh no.”

Five looked down slowly at the droplets.

Then at her horrified expression.

“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “that’s new.”

“I am so sorry!”

She grabbed napkins in a panic and began wiping the table.

Which only knocked over the sugar container.

Which scattered packets everywhere.

Y/n stared at the mess.

“I’m a disaster.”

Five gently caught her wrist to stop the frantic cleaning.

“It’s coffee,” he said calmly.

“I assaulted you with caffeine!”

“People have done worse.”

Y/n looked miserable.

Five sighed softly, then reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

The gesture was gentle.

Unhurried.

Y/n blinked.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “It’s okay.”

Her cheeks turned pink.

“Most people try to impress their dates,” she muttered.

Five’s lips curved.

“Oh, I’m impressed.”

“You are?”

“Absolutely.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“You’re mocking me.”

“Only slightly.”

After coffee, they decided to walk through the nearby park.

The evening air was cool, the sky glowing orange with sunset.

Y/n walked beside him carefully now, watching every step like the ground might betray her.

Five noticed.

“You know,” he said, “hyper-vigilance might actually make you trip more.”

She stopped walking.

“Don’t jinx me.”

Five smirked.

Too late.

Two steps later, Y/n’s foot caught on the edge of the path.

She stumbled.

But this time Five caught her.

His hand wrapped around her arm, steadying her before she could fall.

They froze for a second.

Y/n looked up at him.

His hand was still holding her arm.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” she said quickly.

But neither of them moved right away.

Y/n suddenly realized how close they were.

Five cleared his throat slightly and let go.

“Well,” he said dryly, “at least this time you didn’t take out a table.”

Y/n laughed nervously.

“Progress.”

They reached a small fountain and sat down.

Y/n exhaled dramatically.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

“For being… like this.”

Five tilted his head.

“Like what?”

She gestured vaguely.

“A walking accident.”

He studied her for a moment.

Then he smiled.

“I like it.”

Y/n blinked.

“You do?”

“You’re genuine,” he said. “Most people try so hard to seem perfect on first dates.”

Y/n groaned. “I’m definitely not perfect.”

“No,” Five said. “But you’re honest.”

She looked at him quietly.

“And funny,” he added.

“That was unintentional.”

“Still counts.”

Y/n smiled.

A comfortable silence settled between them.

Eventually they walked back toward the café.

Streetlights had begun glowing softly.

They stopped outside.

“Well,” Y/n said, “that was… chaotic.”

Five folded his arms thoughtfully.

“I’ve had worse.”

“You have?”

“One woman brought a résumé to a date.”

Y/n laughed.

“Seriously?”

“She asked me to list my strengths.”

“What did you say?”

Five looked at her.

“Excellent reflexes.”

She smiled.

Then he hesitated.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Would you want to do this again?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow.

“Another date where I publicly humiliate myself?”

“Preferably.”

She pretended to think about it.

“Hm.”

Five waited patiently.

Then she smiled.

“Yeah,” she said. “I would.”

His grin spread slowly.

“Good.”

Y/n turned to leave, then paused.

“Oh, and Five?”

“Yes?”

“If you ever buy a chili pepper tie…”

He sighed dramatically.

“I’ll spill coffee on you again.”

He pointed at her.

“That’s blackmail.”

She laughed.

And as Y/n walked home that night, she realized something surprising.

The worst date of her life had led to this strange, funny, unexpectedly sweet evening with Five.

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Five and his wife, Y/N, are having a good time together.

Warnings: Drugs, substance abuse

Barbecues were meant to be relaxing. That’s what they all said.

The sun was shining, the grill was sizzling, and folding chairs were scattered across the backyard like colorful land mines. There was music playing, toddlers throwing sand at each other, Diego yelling at Klaus not to “accidentally” light something on fire again, and Luther over-flipping burgers like they were Olympic weights.

Y/n floated through it all with a glass of rosé, smiling at her family—parents, siblings, cousins—and occasionally giving Five a look that said, don’t kill your brother at this gathering, please.

Five, in a rare display of shorts and a T-shirt, nursed a beer while mentally preparing himself to survive the day without committing a felony.

“Are you having fun?” Y/n asked, sliding up next to him under the shade of the big tree.

“If by fun you mean eavesdropping on my brothers argue over what kind of lighter fluid gives meat its ‘true soul,’ then yes. I’m in heaven.”

Y/n laughed and kissed his cheek. “You’re doing great.”

“I deserve a medal.”

“You’ll get a burger.”

“I’ll accept it under protest.”

Y/n smirked and wandered off toward the drink table. Five watched her go with a fond smile, then sat back in his chair, taking another sip of beer. That’s when he saw it—half-tucked into a napkin on the patio table near the shed. It was unmistakably… a joint.

He stared at it.

Then glanced around.

No one else had noticed. Klaus was performing an impromptu interpretive dance with Claire to entertain the kids, Luther was monologuing to Raymond about protein science, and Diego was attempting to remove a wasp from his cup using only a fork.

Five, like a true man of logic and caution, picked up the joint and walked over to Y/n.

“Hey,” he said casually.

“Hey,” she said, loading her plate with potato salad.

“Want to… disappear behind the shed with me for a totally harmless reason?”

Y/n blinked. “Are you trying to seduce me or sell me insurance?”

He leaned closer and subtly flashed the joint.

Y/n’s eyes widened. “Is that—?”

“I found it next to the guacamole. I think it belonged to your cousin Lara. It was calling my name.”

Y/n looked around. “Well… the kids are occupied, your siblings are chaotic, and my mom just poured herself a third glass of wine. Why not?”

Five grinned. “God, I love you.”

—

Behind the shed, shielded by old garden tools and a suspiciously dead shrub, Y/n and Five passed the joint back and forth, giggling like teenagers skipping school.

“Okay,” Y/n said between puffs. “So listen. If you had to pick one of your siblings to be stuck in a time loop with forever—”

“Not Diego,” Five said instantly.

Y/n laughed. “That was fast.”

“I’d rather eat sand.”

“Klaus?”

“He’d forget we were looping and start a cult every Tuesday.”

Y/n cackled. “Luther?”

Five blinked at her. “Do I look like I want to hear about the moon every day for eternity?”

“Allison?”

“She would only talk about random celebrities.”

Y/n wheezed with laughter. “So… who?”

Five shrugged. “Honestly, probably Viktor. He’s quiet. I could work in peace.”

Y/n nodded, impressed. “Smart.”

They both leaned back against the shed wall, eyes up at the clouds.

“That one looks like a fish,” Y/n murmured.

“That one looks like Diego’s ego.”

Y/n snorted so hard she choked. “Don’t make me laugh with smoke in my lungs, you monster!”

Five, red-eyed and lazy-grinned, gave her a dopey smile. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Y/n looked at him, eyes soft. “Are you high and romantic right now?”

“I’m multi-talented.”

—

Meanwhile, back in the backyard…

“Where the hell is Five?” Luther grumbled, flipping over another burger.

Klaus looked up from helping Maddie paint glitter onto Milo’s forehead. “He and Y/n vanished like twenty minutes ago.”

Viktor frowned. “You think they’re okay?”

“They’re probably making out,” Claire said with the flat tone of a teen who’s seen too much parental PDA in her lifetime.

“Or doing drugs,” Klaus added.

Everyone turned.

“What?” he said. “Statistically, it’s one of those two.”

Raymond walked over, concerned. “I saw them sneak off toward the shed earlier…”

“Wait…” Diego squinted. “Do you… do you smell something?”

Everyone went still. A faint, unmistakable herbal aroma drifted through the breeze.

“Oh my God,” Allison whispered. “They are getting high.”

“Behind the shed?” Claire said, disgusted. “There are kids here!”

“I never thought Five was the type for that,” Klaus said. “Five is the kind of guy who overthinks mortality then self-medicates.”

Luther put down the spatula. “We’re confronting them.”

—

Five and Y/n were mid-giggle, attempting to draw smiley faces on each other with grass stems, when Diego rounded the corner like a grumpy dad.

“You two better have a really good explanation for why you smell like Woodstock.”

Y/n, eyes glassy, gave him two thumbs up. “It's my new perfume?”

Five raised a finger like he was about to make a brilliant legal argument… then sneezed.

“Unbelievable,” Diego muttered. “There are children here.”

“We’re not near the children,” Y/n pointed out helpfully.

“You are high at a family barbecue.”

Luther and Allison arrived next, dragging Klaus behind them like a reluctant party guest.

“Look,” Klaus said, “if anyone was gonna spark up, I’m glad it was them. I mean, they’re the most boring sober people here—”

“We are not!” Y/n protested.

“You kind of are,” Klaus said.

Five nodded slowly. “That’s fair.”

Milo suddenly peeked around the shed. “Mom? Dad?”

Y/n straightened up. “Hi, sweetie!”

“You guys look funny.”

“We’re just—uh—appreciating nature,” Five said.

Milo squinted. “Are your eyes red?”

Y/n froze.

Maddie appeared behind him. “Oh my God,” she deadpanned. “You guys are high.”

“No we’re not,” Y/n said.

“Yes you are,” Maddie said. “Dad is smiling at the lawnmower right now.”

“Yes, because he is a good lawnmower.” Five muttered.

Maddie turned around. “I’m telling Grandma.”

“NO!” Y/n and Five shouted in unison.

—

Somehow, the barbecue continued.

After Y/n and Five were scolded by her mother, mildly reprimanded by the kids, and relentlessly teased by Five’s siblings, they were finally allowed to rejoin the group—on the condition that they stay far away from the dessert table, and any more napkins hiding contraband.

They sat in lawn chairs under the tree, side by side, holding hands and sharing a plate of cookies that Milo had carefully inspected for drugs before giving them.

“You know,” Y/n murmured, resting her head on Five’s shoulder, “that was… dumb.”

“Very.”

“But fun.”

“Extremely.”

“Do you think we’ll ever stop acting like idiots?”

Five kissed her hair. “Never.”

Y/n smiled. “Good.”

And as the sun dipped low, and laughter echoed through the backyard, Five whispered, “Next time, though…”

“Yes?”

“Let’s hide in the garage. No one will catch us there.”

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Five is alone in the apocalypse—Right?

Warnings: none

Thirteen-year-old Five Hargreeves was alone in the apocalypse.

It had been a foolish mistake, a miscalculation. In his rush to escape the confines of the Umbrella Academy, desperate to prove he could master his abilities, he leaped too far—decades too far—and landed in the smoldering ashes of the world’s end.

The sky was a sickly orange, filled with smoke and dust, and the once-bustling streets were now littered with the crumbling remains of humanity. He had been here for days, maybe weeks—he lost track. With no one left, no one to talk to, the silence was maddening.

His siblings were gone. His home was gone. Everything he knew was gone.

One year passed in the wasteland. One year of scavenging, of fighting off despair, of trying to survive in the eerie quiet of a world where no one was left. The isolation was unbearable. He began talking to himself, muttering aloud just to hear a voice, any voice, even if it was his own.

But then, one day, something changed.

He heard a voice. And this time, it wasn’t his.

At first, it was faint, barely more than a whisper on the wind. He was standing on top of a collapsed building, surveying the ruins for supplies when he thought he heard it.

"Hello…"

Five froze, his heart hammering in his chest. He looked around wildly, scanning the barren landscape. There was no one.

"Is someone there?" he called out, his voice cracking from disuse and the weight of his hope.

Silence.

For hours after that, he wandered through the wreckage, listening, waiting. But the voice didn’t return, and Five was left wondering if he had finally gone mad from the isolation.

The next day, it came again. Softer this time, more like a breath than a voice.

"Hey…"

He spun around, searching, but still—nothing. His heart raced, fear and excitement blending into one.

"Where are you?" he yelled, panic creeping into his voice.

"I’m here," the voice answered, calm and serene. "I’ve been here… all along."

It was a woman’s voice, soft and familiar in a way that made Five’s chest tighten. He didn’t know how or why, but it comforted him. He hadn’t spoken to anyone in over a year, hadn’t heard anything but the wind and the groaning of crumbling buildings. And now, someone was speaking to him.

Five blinked, turning in slow circles, as if expecting her to appear from the shadows. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice small.

"I’m with you," she said simply. "I’ve always been with you."

From that day on, the voice became his companion. It was always there, gentle and soothing, even though Five couldn’t understand where it came from. There was no one else alive in the apocalypse, but her voice followed him, always offering a kind word, a bit of hope, even a joke when Five felt the crushing weight of solitude.

She never told him her name, and Five never asked. He spoke to her like an old friend, even though he knew, deep down, that none of it made sense.

"You’re not real," he told her once, lying on the cracked pavement of a ruined street, staring up at the dim, hazy sky. "This isn’t real. I’m just going crazy."

The voice laughed softly. "Maybe. But does it matter?"

Over the years, the voice became his constant. She talked him through the hardest days, guided him through moments of despair when he thought he wouldn’t survive. She was always there, in the back of his mind, keeping him from succumbing to the crushing loneliness of the apocalypse.

Forty-five years passed.

The boy who had been so full of arrogance, the boy who thought he could control time, had grown into a man. He became sharper, colder, his mind consumed by the singular goal of escaping this broken world and returning to his family.

And through it all, she was there. Her voice never aged, never wavered. She was the only thing that kept him sane, though he never fully understood how she existed or why she stayed.

Then, one day, the Handler found him. She offered him a job at the Commission, a way to leave the apocalypse, to find order in the chaos. With no other choice, Five accepted.

The moment he did, the voice disappeared.

It was sudden, like a light being switched off. One moment, she was there—talking to him, comforting him, her presence as constant as the air he breathed—and then, she was gone.

He waited for her to return. Days passed, then weeks, but there was nothing. Five’s heart grew heavy with the loss, though he never spoke of it. He had no idea who she had been, or if she had even been real. Perhaps she was just a figment of his mind, a hallucination born of loneliness and desperation.

But her absence left a hollow ache in his chest that never truly went away.

When Five finally found his way back to his family, his appearance was the same as the day he’d left—thirteen years old. But inside, he was a weathered old man. He tried to pick up where he had left off, tried to return to the life he once knew, but the weight of his experience in the apocalypse lingered with him.

The voice haunted him, even though it was gone. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had lost something precious, something irreplaceable.

And then, eight years later, everything changed.

Five was sitting in a diner, nursing a cup of coffee and going over CIA files when a woman walked in. She didn’t look extraordinary—just an ordinary person going about her day—but when she spoke to the waitress, Five’s heart stopped.

It was her voice. The voice that had kept him company for forty-five years.

His hands trembled as he stared at her, his mind reeling. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t be real. And yet… she was standing there, living, breathing, her voice exactly as he remembered it.

The woman glanced over at him, catching him staring. She smiled, and Five’s world tilted on its axis. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice light and teasing.

He blinked, frozen in place. It was her. He knew it, deep in his bones. But how?

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his heart pounding in his chest.

The woman tilted her head, a puzzled smile on her lips. "I’m Y/n."

Y/n. The voice had a name now.

Five didn’t know how to explain it—how to tell her that for forty-five years, she had been with him, guiding him, keeping him sane. She couldn’t possibly remember, couldn’t possibly know.

But as they spoke, something shifted between them, an unspoken connection that neither could fully understand. Five knew he had found her, the woman whose voice had kept him alive in the darkest moments of his life.

Over time, they grew closer. Five didn’t tell her the truth—not yet. He wasn’t ready to share the story of the apocalypse, of how she had saved him without ever knowing it. But in his heart, he knew that he had loved her for a long time.

One evening, as they sat together under the stars, Five looked at her, truly looked at her, and knew that fate had brought them together, across time and space.

"I’ve loved you for forty-five years," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

Y/n smiled, her eyes soft and full of warmth. "It's as if I've known you my whole life."

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Five has a suspicion.

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves prided himself on being a man of logic, precision, and an uncanny ability to solve mysteries before they even began. He had faced time paradoxes, assassins, and apocalyptic events without breaking a sweat. But nothing—not even the Commission itself—could have prepared him for the most mind-boggling puzzle of all time:

His wife, Y/n, was having an affair.

At least, that’s what he thought.

It had started with the little things. The phone calls, the sudden absences, the mysterious smiles she would give to her phone before quickly tucking it away when Five walked into the room. Then there were the suspiciously vague explanations of “just running errands,” and worst of all, the humming.

Y/n never hummed unless she was really, really happy about something. And Five knew—deep in his bones—that her happiness should be solely related to him.

He tried to be rational. He told himself it was probably nothing, that he was overthinking. But Five didn’t do overthinking—he solved problems. And if there was one thing he knew, it was that happy marriages didn’t have secrets.

So naturally, the only logical course of action was to spy on his own wife.

Five started small. He casually “bumped into” Y/n while she was on the phone one evening. She gasped and nearly dropped her phone, flashing him a guilty smile.

“Oh! Five! Didn’t see you there.”

“Who are you talking to?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Uh… just… my Brother,” she said with an innocent shrug.

Her Brother.

That was practically code for “lover.”

Instead of pushing the matter further, Five merely nodded. He would play the long game.

So, he began to track her movements. He wasn’t proud of it (okay, maybe a little), but this was marital espionage, and Five was nothing if not thorough.

First, he followed her to the grocery store.

Nothing suspicious there—unless you counted the fact that she bought two brands of peanut butter. (Who was the second jar for? Her lover?)

Next, she had a sudden “errand” in the middle of the day. Five discreetly followed her… only to find her at a bookstore. He observed from behind a bookshelf as she picked out romance novels.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered.

She was living the romance, and yet she needed more romance? This was clear evidence that she was longing for someone else.

Then, the final straw. Y/n left the house late at the Day, dressed suspiciously nice. Five nearly had a stroke.

This was it. The moment of truth. He teleported outside and tailed her. He stayed in the shadows like a true professional, moving undetected. He imagined himself as the greatest private detective of all time—until he walked into a mailbox and nearly broke his nose.

But he carried on.

She entered a dimly lit café. Five peered through the window. And that’s when he saw her…

Sitting with a man.

They were laughing together.

Five’s world nearly crumbled. His hands curled into fists. His wife—his Y/n—was smiling at some other man.

The ultimate betrayal.

Five didn’t waste time. He teleported directly in front of their table, slamming his hands down on it like an action movie villain.

“WHO THE HELL IS THIS?!”

The entire café went silent. Y/n and the man both blinked up at him, startled.

Y/n gasped, looking guilty as hell. “F-Five?!”

“That’s my name,” he growled, glaring at the man across from her. “And who are you?”

The man, a seemingly unremarkable human with glasses, raised his hands in alarm. “Five it's ’—”

“I swear to god,” Five cut him off, “if you say ‘just a friend,’ I will introduce you to the afterlife.”

Y/n looked horrified. “FIVE! What the hell are you doing?!”

“WHAT AM I DOING?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”

“I’M HAVING COFFEE!”

“With him!” Five accused, pointing dramatically. “You’ve been sneaking off, whispering on the phone, buying extra peanut butter! And now this? Just admit it—YOU’RE HAVING AN AFFAIR!”

Y/n stared at him like he had just declared himself king of Mars. Then, she burst out laughing.

Five blinked. “Why are you laughing?”

“Five,” she wheezed, “I cannot believe this. You idiot. You paranoid, adorable idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

The mysterious man cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, so, I’m Mark. Remember? Y/n’s—”

“My brother, Do you remember? The last time you saw each other was at our wedding. ” Y/n finished.

Five felt the floor vanish beneath him. “What?”

“My brother, you moron.”

Silence.

Dead, painful silence.

“Wait,” Five said, tilting his head. “Your brother doesn't live here.”

“Exactly genius,” Y/n groaned. “He surprised me by visiting, and I wanted to throw a party for him at our house.”

Five blinked. He slowly turned toward Mark, who gave an awkward little wave.

“…Hi Five.”

“…Hello,” Five muttered.

A slow, creeping horror began to settle over him.

“Uh,” Five cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets. “So… no affair, then?”

Y/n whacked him with a napkin.

“You absolute buffoon! You SPYED ON ME?!”

“In my defense, I thought I had a case,” Five mumbled.

Y/n was still laughing, shaking her head. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Five sighed, rubbing his temple. “Well, this is humiliating.”

Mark, still looking mildly terrified, tried to help. “Uh, hey, it’s okay. I mean… it’s kind of sweet? In a crazy, unhinged way? I still can't believe you didn't recognize me”

Five scowled. “In my defense, you weren't wearing glasses last time.”

Y/n reached over and grabbed Five’s hand, her laughter softening into something affectionate. “You idiot. I love you, and no, I’m not having an affair.”

Five exhaled. “Good.”

“However,” she said, eyes twinkling mischievously, “you will be sleeping on the couch for a week for this.”

Five groaned. “Come on. A week?”

Y/n smirked. “Would you like to negotiate?”

Five narrowed his eyes. “Is this blackmail?”

“Absolutely.”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine.” Then, after a beat, he muttered, “Still worth it.”

“Excuse me?” Y/n arched an eyebrow.

Five smirked. “I would rather look like an idiot than risk losing you.”

Y/n melted a little at that. “Okay, that was smooth. You’re still sleeping on the couch, though.”

Five groaned again.

Mark just shook his head. “Man, you guys are weird.”

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Five thought he was the only survivor of the apocalypse.

Warnings: Death, Sad, loneliness

When 13-year-old Five blinked into the apocalypse, he was met with nothing but destruction. The once-vibrant world had crumbled into ash and ruin. It was a wasteland, devoid of life, hope, and any sign of a future. He wandered aimlessly for days, disoriented, lonely, and haunted by the silence that filled the streets where laughter and chaos once reigned.

The first few weeks were brutal. Every day was a fight for survival, scavenging for food, shelter, and some semblance of normalcy in a world that had been ripped apart. Five was determined to find a way back to his family, but it felt like an impossible dream. As days stretched into months, the isolation weighed heavily on him, turning the silence into an unbearable, oppressive force.

And then, out of the blue, Five stumbled upon something unexpected—a person.

It was in the remains of an old grocery store. Five had broken through a boarded-up window, desperate to find something to eat. He had given up on the idea of finding anyone else alive. Yet, as he pushed through the rubble, he heard a quiet noise—a cough.

That’s when he saw her.

She was crouched behind a fallen shelf, her face streaked with dirt, her eyes wide and cautious. Her clothes were tattered, and she held a rusted piece of metal in her hand like a weapon.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice rough but filled with curiosity.

"Five," he said, stunned to see another human being.

She stared at him for a long moment, and then her shoulders relaxed slightly. "Y/n," she replied. "I thought I was the last person alive."

Five felt the weight of his loneliness lift just a little. He wasn’t alone anymore.

From that moment, they became a team, survivors in a world that had long since died. At first, their relationship was built on necessity. They needed each other to stay alive. They hunted for food together, found shelter, and kept watch over one another in the cold, lonely nights. Slowly, though, their partnership evolved into something deeper.

They found ways to make the apocalypse bearable. In the desolation, they created small moments of joy—telling stories, sharing memories, laughing at the absurdity of their situation. Five was brilliant, with a sharp mind and quick wit, but Y/n brought warmth into his life, something he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. Her presence made the days seem less bleak, and her laugh was like a lifeline in the darkness.

As months turned into years, they grew closer. They became each other’s everything, their connection the only thing keeping them sane. Five’s thoughts of going back to his family were still there, but Y/n had become his home. He fell in love with her, not in a grand, dramatic way, but in the quiet, enduring way that love often happens. It was in the way she smiled at him, the way she cared for him when he was wounded, the way she made him feel human again.

He had survived so long on his own, but with Y/n, he felt alive.

One day, while they were sitting in the remains of an old library, watching the sun set through the cracked windows, Five turned to her.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said softly.

Y/n smiled, reaching for his hand. “You won’t have to find out.”

But fate had other plans.

It started with a simple cough. Y/n brushed it off, telling Five it was nothing, just the dust in the air. But the cough persisted, and soon she was too weak to move. Five did everything he could to help her—scavenged for medicine, tried to nurse her back to health—but nothing worked. Her condition worsened, and Five was powerless to stop it.

The day Y/n died was the worst day of his life. She had been his companion, his love, his reason for surviving in this cruel, desolate world. And now she was gone. He held her in his arms, tears streaming down his face, as the light faded from her eyes.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath.

“I love you too,” Five choked out, his heart shattering.

And then, she was gone.

Five buried her in the remains of a garden, marking her grave with stones he carefully arranged. He stayed by her side for hours, unable to move, unable to think of what came next. The world, already broken, felt even more lifeless without her in it.

But Five couldn’t give up. He had to keep going. He had to survive, for her, if nothing else.

Eventually, after decades of surviving on his own, Five found a way back to his family. His siblings were alive, the world was whole again, but nothing felt the same. He had left behind the love of his life in a world that no longer existed.

One day, while wandering through a department store with his siblings, Five came across a mannequin display. The mannequins were dressed in winter clothes, standing in lifeless poses. Most people would have walked by without a second glance, but something in Five broke when he saw one mannequin in particular.

It reminded him of Y/n. The way it stood, the shape of its eyes—everything about it tugged at his heart, pulling him back to the days they had spent together, surviving in the apocalypse. His grief, long buried, resurfaced in a wave of overwhelming emotion.

He named the mannequin Y/n.

From that moment on, Five became attached to it. He spoke to it as if it were the real Y/n, as if somehow, through some twisted miracle, his lost love had found her way back to him. His siblings thought he was losing his mind, but they didn’t understand. They hadn’t been there. They hadn’t seen what he had seen. They hadn’t loved her.

One day, Luther found Five sitting in the corner of their home, the mannequin propped up beside him as if it were just another person in the room.

“Five,” Luther said gently, “why are you so attached to that mannequin?”

Five was quiet for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the lifeless figure beside him. Then, he looked up at his brother, the weight of years of pain and loss visible in his expression.

“I met this girl in the apocalypse,” Five began, his voice low. “Her name was Y/n. We survived together. She was the only thing that kept me going. We loved each other.”

Luther listened, his heart breaking for his brother.

“And then... she died,” Five continued, his voice cracking. “I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t do anything.”

Luther knelt beside him, placing a hand on Five’s shoulder.

“I found this mannequin,” Five said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I thought... I thought maybe...”

Luther didn’t say anything, just sat beside his brother in silence, understanding now why Five was so attached to the mannequin. It wasn’t just a lifeless object—it was a symbol of the love he had lost, the grief he carried with him every day.

“She was my everything,” Five whispered. “And now she’s gone.”

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Five meets someone special.

A/N: I'm really sorry you had to wait so long for your request. I hope you like it anyway.

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves did not plan on falling for anyone.

That was the simplest way to put it.

His life had been built on survival, precision, calculation. Romance had always felt… inefficient. Risky. Emotional in ways he preferred to avoid.

And then he met Y/n.

It happened on an ordinary Tuesday in a small café that smelled like coffee and cinnamon. She was standing in line ahead of him, apologizing softly to the barista because she’d accidentally ordered the wrong size.

“It’s fine,” the barista insisted.

“No, really, I’m sorry,” Y/n said, cheeks slightly pink. “I always do this.”

Five found himself watching her for no rational reason.

She wasn’t loud. She wasn’t flashy. She wore a simple sweater, her hair loosely tied back. No dramatic tattoos, not much makeup. Just warm eyes and a smile that seemed genuine rather than practiced.

When she stepped aside with her drink, she nearly collided with him.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” she said quickly.

“You seem to apologize frequently,” Five replied before he could stop himself.

She blinked at him—and then laughed.

“Well, now I have to, don’t I?”

He hesitated.

“I’m Five,” he said, which was not something he normally did with strangers.

“Y/n,” she replied, shifting her cup to her other hand.

There was something about her voice—steady, kind, curious without being intrusive.

They ended up sharing a table because the café was full.

It wasn’t supposed to last long.

But it did.

She asked him what he did, and instead of giving his usual evasive half-answer, he found himself explaining pieces of it—carefully edited, but honest enough.

She listened.

Really listened.

And when she talked, she spoke about small things—her job, a book she loved, how she once got lost on a hiking trail and ended up discovering her favorite view by accident.

Five felt… calm.

Which was unusual.

When he asked if he could see her again, she smiled in a way that made something warm settle in his chest.

“I’d like that,” she said.

—

The first date was simple. Dinner at a quiet restaurant. Conversation that flowed easily. Laughter that came unexpectedly.

Five walked her home and felt, for the first time in a very long while, that something in his life was shifting in a direction he hadn’t predicted—but didn’t entirely mind.

The second date was different.

They met at a park in the afternoon. The air was cool, sunlight filtering through the trees.

Y/n seemed… nervous.

Five noticed immediately.

“You’re fidgeting,” he observed.

“I am not.”

“You are.”

She sighed softly. “There’s something I should have told you sooner.”

Five stilled.

He had lived long enough to recognize that tone.

“I didn’t mention it last time because I wanted you to get to know me,” she continued gently. “Just me.”

“And now?” he asked.

“And now I like you enough that I don’t want to hide anything.”

He nodded once. “Go on.”

Y/n drew in a breath.

“I have a son.”

The words landed carefully between them.

Five didn’t speak right away.

She rushed on. “His name is Milo. He’s four. And he’s my entire world. If that’s too much, I understand. I really do.”

Four.

Small. Loud. Needy.

Five had faced assassins and collapsing timelines.

He was not equipped for bedtime stories and spilled juice.

He folded his hands in front of him. “You didn’t tell me because you thought I’d leave.”

“Yes.”

“Would you have told me eventually?”

“Of course.”

He studied her face—open, anxious, brave.

“What is he like?” Five asked quietly.

Y/n blinked.

“He’s…” Her expression softened instantly. “He’s the sweetest little human I’ve ever met. He sleeps with a stuffed dinosaur named Pickle. He thinks blueberries are magical. He says ‘pasghetti’ instead of spaghetti. And he insists on kissing my hand before preschool because he says it keeps me safe.”

Five felt something shift in his chest.

“That sounds… thorough,” he said.

Y/n laughed weakly. “He’s a lot.”

“I have limited experience with children,” Five admitted.

“That’s okay,” she said softly. “You don’t have to have any. I just needed you to know.”

He nodded slowly.

“I would like to meet him,” he said before he could overthink it.

Y/n’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes.”

There was a flicker of fear in his stomach—but also curiosity.

—

They met at the same park the following weekend.

Five arrived early.

He told himself it was strategic timing.

It was not.

When Y/n appeared, holding the hand of a very small boy in a bright yellow jacket, Five felt his breath hitch unexpectedly.

Milo had soft dark curls that bounced when he walked. His sneakers had tiny lights that blinked with every step. He was clutching a slightly worn green dinosaur plush to his chest.

“Five,” Y/n said gently. “This is Milo.”

Milo peeked out from behind her leg.

He squinted at Five with intense seriousness.

Five crouched down so they were eye level.

“Hello, Milo.”

There was a pause.

Then Milo stepped forward, holding up his dinosaur.

“This is Pickle,” he announced solemnly.

Five nodded gravely. “An excellent name.”

Milo’s eyes widened slightly. “You think so?”

“Yes. Very distinguished.”

Milo beamed.

“He’s brave,” Milo continued, patting the dinosaur. “But he’s scared of vacuum cleaners.”

“A reasonable fear,” Five replied.

Y/n covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.

Milo stepped closer, examining Five like he was a curious new discovery.

“Why’s your name Five?” he asked.

“It’s what I’m called.”

“Are there four other yous?”

“Not in this Timeline, no.”

Milo giggled—a soft, delighted sound that seemed far too pure for the world.

He reached out without hesitation and touched Five’s sleeve.

“You’re tall,” he observed.

“You only think that because you're still so small..”

Milo nodded as if this confirmed something important.

Then, completely unprompted, he grabbed Five’s hand.

“Come see slide,” he demanded cheerfully.

Five glanced up at Y/n.

She looked stunned—but hopeful.

Five allowed himself to be tugged forward.

The slide was small. Bright blue plastic. Entirely undignified.

“You go first,” Milo insisted.

“I assure you, that is unnecessary—”

“Go!” Milo said, bouncing excitedly.

Y/n raised an eyebrow.

Five sighed.

He sat at the top of the slide, acutely aware that he was a grown man about to descend a children’s structure.

Milo clapped in encouragement.

Five slid down.

It was over in two seconds.

Milo cheered like Five had accomplished something monumental.

“Again!” he squealed.

Five blinked.

He looked at Milo’s shining face.

Then he climbed back up.

By the third slide, Milo was laughing so hard he nearly fell over.

When they finally sat on a bench, Milo climbed into Y/n’s lap and began telling Five, in great detail, about how Pickle once defeated a “very mean pillow.”

Five listened.

Actually listened.

At one point, Milo leaned against Five’s arm casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Five stiffened—then slowly relaxed.

Milo smelled faintly like soap and blueberries.

“Five?” Milo asked softly.

“Yes?”

“Are you Mama’s friend?”

Five looked at Y/n.

She didn’t speak. She simply watched him.

“Yes,” Five said carefully. “I am.”

Milo considered this.

“Okay,” he said, satisfied. “You can come again.”

Five felt something inside him crack open.

Permission.

As if Milo had just granted him access to something sacred.

When it was time to leave, Milo hugged Five’s leg tightly.

“Bye, Five,” he said, pressing his cheek against his coat.

Five hesitated only a second before gently resting his hand on Milo’s curls.

“Goodbye, Milo.”

As Y/n buckled him into the car, Milo waved wildly through the window.

Five stood there, watching.

When Y/n walked back over to him, her eyes were soft.

“You didn’t run,” she said quietly.

“No.”

“Are you overwhelmed?”

He thought about it.

He had expected panic. Discomfort. The certainty that this wasn’t for him.

Instead, he felt… warmth.

“He’s very small,” Five said.

Y/n laughed softly. “Yes. He is.”

“He trusts easily.”

“He does.”

Five looked at her.

“I don’t know how to be what he needs.”

Y/n stepped closer. “He doesn’t need perfect. He just needs kind.”

Five swallowed.

“I can be kind,” he said.

She smiled—a smile that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“Yes,” she replied gently. “You can.”

As she drove away, Milo’s small hand still waving from the back seat, Five stood very still.

He had thought he wasn’t good with children.

But Milo—with his blinking sneakers and brave dinosaur and soft blueberry scent—had looked at him like he was someone safe.

And that did something to Five’s guarded heart.

For the first time, the idea of staying didn’t feel frightening.

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Five is jealous of the gardener.

A/N: I somehow get the feeling that this fandom is slowly dying, or maybe nobody likes reading Five One Shots anymore. I find that really sad.

Warnings: none

It started as an innocent attempt to finally fix the overgrown jungle that used to be a backyard.

Y/n had casually mentioned it while sipping her coffee one morning: “You know what would be nice? A garden that doesn’t look like it wants to murder people.”

Five, standing in the doorway in pajama pants and bedhead, blinked at her. “It’s just a little wild.”

“The hydrangea is eating the mailbox.”

“…Okay, maybe it’s a bit enthusiastic.”

So he did what any self-respecting ex-assassin who had seen the apocalypse and lived to grumble about it would do.

He hired a gardener.

A 20-year-old one named Skyler.

Skyler was everything Five instantly distrusted.

First: The name. No one named Skyler had ever delivered good news. Second: He had floppy golden hair, arms that glistened in the sun (why was he always glistening?!), and wore tank tops like a smug, sentient protein shake.

Third: He called Y/n “Mrs. H.”

Like they were in a 90s teen movie.

“Morning, Mrs. H!” Skyler called one Saturday, waving a trowel and flashing what could only be described as a twinkle smile. “Looking lovely as ever!”

Y/n, unaware of the war that had just started, laughed. “Thanks, Skyler! Let me know if you need lemonade.”

Lemonade? Five's eye twitched. He gets lemonade now?

Skyler winked. “Only if you’re the one bringing it!”

Y/n laughed again. Five’s hand gripped the porch railing like he was deciding whether to launch himself onto Skyler like a grenade.

“He’s just being polite,” Y/n said later, still amused, when Five grumbled about it.

“No one’s that polite without an agenda,” he muttered. “He called you a ‘sunbeam in human form.’ Who says that? What 20-year-old even knows what a sunbeam is?”

Y/n sipped her coffee. “He’s sweet. And good at what he does. The roses look amazing.”

“I could’ve done the roses.”

“You once tried to water a cactus with milk.”

“That was one time! I was tired!”

Y/n giggled. “Are you actually jealous of Skyler?”

“No,” Five said flatly, crossing his arms. “I’m simply observing that your hot young gardener smiles at you like you’re made of whipped cream and unicorns, and I don’t trust anyone that enthusiastic about petunias.”

Over the next week, Five made it his mission to observe.

Every time Skyler arrived, Five “coincidentally” appeared — on the porch, in the kitchen window, even hiding behind a newspaper in a lawn chair like some suburban spy thriller.

Skyler remained infuriatingly charming.

“Mrs. H! That sundress is a vibe.”

Y/n: “Aw, thanks, Skyler!”

Five, from behind the paper: “She’s married, Skyler.”

Skyler: “Respectfully, sir, she’s also radiant.”

Y/n: giggling

Five: internally combusting

It came to a head on a Thursday afternoon.

Y/n was inside making lunch. Five, sensing danger, stepped outside just in time to see Skyler—shirtless, of course—reaching up to trim a branch.

“Skyler,” Five called coolly. “Mind if I have a word?”

Skyler blinked down. “Sure, Mr. H!”

Mr. H?

Five gestured to the side of the house. Skyler followed, still holding his shears. Five turned to him slowly, folding his arms.

“Listen,” he said calmly. “You seem like a decent kid. You trim hedges. You smile a lot. You apparently sparkle in sunlight, which I didn’t even know humans could do.”

“Uh… thank you?”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

Skyler’s smile wavered.

Five stepped closer. “But let’s get something very clear. That woman inside? She’s not your Mrs. H. She’s my wife. And I know she looks like a goddess who wandered out of a Pinterest board, but if you call her radiant one more time, I will bury you under the azaleas. Understand?”

Skyler blinked. “Sir, I… I didn’t mean any disrespect. I just—she’s cool. I wasn’t trying to… you know…”

Five raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t trying to what, Skyler?”

Skyler held up his hands. “Flirt. I swear. I mean, I’m gay. I have a boyfriend named Trent. He works at the farmer’s market.”

Five froze.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I just… I dunno. Y/n’s just got this, like, wine aunt energy. She reminds me of my aunt Shelly. She used to dance barefoot in the rain.”

Five blinked again.

“…You’re gay?”

“Super gay.”

“…And your boyfriend’s name is Trent?”

“Yup. Man’s got thighs like a Greek statue. He lifts squash like babies.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then: “…Huh.”

Later that night, Five recounted the entire thing to Y/n as they sat on the couch.

“…So the whole time, I thought he was trying to seduce you, and really, he was just trying to compliment your sundress and reminisce about his aunt Shelly.”

Y/n burst out laughing, nearly choking on her wine.

“You threatened the gardener.”

“I didn’t threaten him. I suggested some light burial.”

Y/n giggled harder. “Oh my God, Five.”

“I panicked. He was too shiny.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m observant.”

She slid onto his lap, still giggling, arms wrapping around his neck. “Were you really jealous?”

“…Maybe a little.”

“You know I only sparkle for you, right?”

He snorted. “That might be the weirdest and most adorable thing you’ve ever said.”

She grinned and kissed his cheek. “You know what I find sexy?”

“Threatening lawn maintenance staff?”

“No. You, in those ugly sweatpants, glaring from the porch like a jealous gremlin.”

He grinned, wrapping his arms around her waist. “That’s the weirdest foreplay I’ve ever heard.”

Y/n whispered in his ear, “Then I better go put on that sundress Skyler loves so much.”