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

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.”

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Five tries to be there for his brother Luther.

A/N: Surprise surprise, I'm posting today because unfortunately I can't tomorrow. My stories still aren't showing up in the Five Hargreeves tags, that drives me crazy.

Warnings: none

It had been over ten years since their father, Reginald Hargreeves, had reset the universe. In some strange way, they were all given a second chance — a life without the scars and trauma they had grown up with. They weren’t superheroes anymore. No Commission. No apocalypses. No constant countdown to catastrophe.

But not all of them got their happy ending.

Sloane didn’t make it through the reset. Or maybe she never existed here. Either way, Luther had lost her.

It had been Five who saw the look on his brother’s face the morning after everything changed. They were all standing in the night outside the hotel, blinking in confusion and awe, laughing nervously — but Luther? He wasn’t laughing. He was scanning the crowd, searching, hoping.

And Sloane never came.

Five never forgot the way Luther’s face fell that day.

Ten years later, Five sat in the kitchen of his modest home, sipping his second cup of coffee. Y/n padded in barefoot, her hair still messy from sleep, wearing one of Five’s CIA sweatshirts that hung halfway down her thighs.

“Morning,” she mumbled.

“Morning,” he said, already reaching for the kettle to pour her a cup before she even asked. He handed her the mug, and she smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

She noticed the way he stared absently at the rain through the window, his fingers tapping restlessly on the side of his mug.

“Are you thinking about Luther again?” she asked gently.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. “He was supposed to come for dinner last night.”

Y/n blinked. “Did he leave a message?”

“No call. Nothing.” Five’s brow furrowed. “He never used to miss dinner with us. Maddie and Milo were disappointed.”

Y/n frowned and sat down across from him, warming her hands on the cup. “He’s been quieter lately.”

“He’s slipping,” Five muttered, then shook his head. “No. Not slipping. Just… fading.”

Y/n reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “He’s grieving. He never stopped grieving.”

“It’s been over ten years, Y/n.”

“That’s not how grief works, and you know it.”

He looked at her then — truly looked — and his expression softened. She was right. He did know. He had spent decades in the apocalypse thinking he’d lost his family forever. That sort of pain didn’t evaporate just because time passed.

“Five,” Y/n said, her voice low and warm, “I know it’s hard for you to sit still when someone you love is suffering. So… go to him.”

He stared at her for a moment, then squeezed her hand. “I married a dangerously insightful woman.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

Luther lived in a small cabin on the edge of the woods about an hour’s drive away. He said he liked the peace, the quiet, the distance. Five suspected he liked not having to pretend for anyone.

When Five knocked on the door that afternoon, it took a full minute for it to open. Luther stood there, unshaven, in a hoodie that had definitely seen better days.

“Hey,” he said, surprised. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

“I figured I’d stop waiting for you to show up.”

Luther scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry about dinner. I… I forgot.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Luther gave a sheepish smile. “Okay, fine. I couldn’t get out of bed.”

Five didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he simply walked past him into the cabin. “You have coffee?”

Luther let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah.”

They sat on the porch a half-hour later, mugs in hand, watching the trees sway in the breeze. For a long time, neither said anything.

“She’d would loved this place,” Luther said suddenly. “The quiet. The space. She used to tell me that when the fighting was over, she wanted to live somewhere with big windows and a garden. And I’d build her a greenhouse.”

Five didn’t look at him. He just listened.

“I kept hoping maybe she’d just… walk up the path one day,” Luther said, voice thick. “Like the reset just placed her a little further away. That maybe she was lost. Or amnesiac. Or hiding. Hell, I even checked missing person reports for years.”

“I know,” Five said softly. “I helped.”

Luther smiled bitterly. “And you never said anything.”

“Because I knew you had to look. I would’ve done the same.”

Luther’s eyes were glassy. “She’s gone.”

“I know.”

There was another long silence, filled only with the sound of wind and the occasional birdsong.

“I feel like I failed her,” Luther admitted. “I promised to protect her. I promised I’d find her.”

“You didn’t fail her,” Five said, finally looking at his brother. “You loved her. You still love her. That’s not failure. That’s just what makes you… you.”

Luther gave a short laugh. “You’ve gotten soft.”

Five shrugged. “I’ve had help.”

That night, Five returned home to find Y/n in the living room with Maddie and Milo, all in pajamas, watching an old cartoon.

Milo ran up and tackled Five’s legs. “Daddy!”

“Hey, kiddo,” Five said, ruffling his son’s hair. Maddie waved from the couch. “How’s Uncle Luther?” she asked.

“He’s…” Five hesitated. “Better now.”

Y/n stood and crossed to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You okay?”

“I will be.” He kissed her forehead. “Thank you for the push.”

She smiled against his shirt. “Anytime.”

The next weekend, Five invited Luther again for dinner — but this time, he didn’t ask. He told him. And to everyone’s quiet relief, Luther showed up. Clean-shaven, still tired, but trying.

Y/n made his favorite meal. Maddie told him about school. Milo showed him a drawing of the moon. And Five, for once, didn’t complain about the volume of conversation at the table.

Later that night, after the kids were in bed, Luther helped Five take out the trash.

“You ever think she’s out there?” Luther asked suddenly.

Five didn’t answer right away. Then he said, “I think some people leave such an impact, the world never really feels right without them.”

Luther looked at him. “That’s not an answer.”

Five smirked faintly. “I’m a time traveler, not a philosopher.”

They both laughed. A quiet, healing sound.

In the weeks that followed, Luther came around more often. He started helping Y/n in the garden. He brought books for Maddie. He let Milo climb on his shoulders even when he pretended to hate it.

And one afternoon, as Five watched from the porch, he realized something:

Sloane might never come back. That wound might never fully close.

But maybe, just maybe… Luther would be okay anyway.

Because they were family.

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Y/n loves it when Five uses his powers

A/N: I really hope you like it. I've noticed that I haven't written about Five and his powers in a long time, I don't really know why. I've also noticed that my stories aren't showing up in the Five Hargreeves tags, I have no idea why.

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves had survived the apocalypse.

Multiple times.

He had faced assassins, collapsing timelines, and siblings who could level buildings with their powers. He had stared down the end of the world and walked away from it.

What he had not expected—what no amount of temporal calculation could have prepared him for—was falling in love with someone whose powers made her behave like a very enthusiastic moth.

Y/n had been born with them.

Unlike the Hargreeves siblings, her parents had never given her up. They had kept her, loved her, and spent most of her childhood learning how to handle the strange little quirks that came with having a daughter who could cling to walls and glide across rooms when startled.

She had always been a little unusual.

She liked dim rooms. Bright lights fascinated her. When she was little, she used to sit near lamps and stare at them with quiet wonder.

Her parents had simply accepted it.

“Every kid has their thing,” her mother used to say.

Y/n’s thing just happened to involve faintly shimmering scales along her shoulders and the occasional accidental flight across the living room.

By the time she was an adult, she understood her powers well enough. She could glide, climb walls, and move silently through dark rooms if she wanted.

Most of the time, it was manageable.

Mostly.

Until she met Five.

Because Five had one very specific problem.

Whenever he teleported—or “blinked,” as he called it—his powers emitted a brief pulse of glowing blue temporal energy.

And that light?

It drove Y/n’s moth instincts completely insane.

The first time she noticed it, she nearly walked into a wall.

Five had blinked into the apartment after a long day.

Y/n had been in the kitchen pouring tea.

There was a flash of soft blue light behind her.

Y/n turned.

And immediately drifted three steps toward it like someone following a glowing firefly.

She bumped her hip into the counter.

Five stared at her.

“Y/n.”

She blinked.

“…did you see that?”

“Yes,” Five said slowly. “You just attacked the kitchen.”

“No, the light.”

“What light?”

He blinked again out of instinct.

Another small pulse of blue shimmered around him.

Y/n froze.

Her eyes widened.

Then she slowly stepped closer.

“…do that again.”

Five narrowed his eyes.

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Five.”

He sighed.

Then blinked.

Blue light shimmered for a second.

Y/n leaned forward slightly like she was watching the most fascinating thing in the world.

“That,” she said quietly, “is the prettiest thing I have ever seen.”

Five stared at her.

“You have seen fireworks.”

“Not like that.”

At first, he thought it was just curiosity.

A normal reaction to an unusual power.

But over the next few weeks, Five realized something.

Y/n didn’t just notice the light.

She tracked it.

Every time he blinked across a room, her head turned automatically.

Every time that faint blue glow appeared, her attention locked onto it like gravity.

One evening, he blinked into the living room while she was reading.

Her head lifted instantly.

“Again.”

Five froze.

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“It’s pretty.”

“That is not a valid argument.”

Y/n scooted closer on the couch.

“Just once.”

Five crossed his arms.

“I refuse to function as a decorative lamp.”

Y/n poked his sleeve.

Five glared at her.

Then blinked.

Blue light flickered.

Y/n smiled dreamily.

Five groaned.

“I am dating a moth.”

The situation became worse during movie night.

They were halfway through a film when Five blinked to the kitchen to grab snacks.

Blue light flashed.

Y/n’s head snapped toward him instantly.

She completely missed the next scene.

Five returned with popcorn.

Y/n wasn’t looking at the television.

She was staring directly at him.

Five squinted.

“Y/n.”

“Yes?”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“That.”

Her eyes flicked to the TV.

Then back to him.

“…do what again?”

Five blinked experimentally.

Blue shimmer.

Y/n leaned closer immediately.

“Okay that’s mesmerizing.”

Five rubbed his temples.

“You’re hopeless.”

The siblings discovered it soon after.

They were gathered at the Academy when Five blinked across the room to grab a folder.

Y/n’s head followed him instantly.

Like a sunflower tracking sunlight.

Diego blinked.

“…did she just track you?”

Five sighed.

“Yes.”

Klaus leaned forward dramatically.

“Oh my God.”

Y/n frowned.

“What?”

“You’re a moth,” Klaus announced with delight.

“I am not.”

“You literally followed the light.”

Y/n paused.

“…okay maybe a little.”

Five blinked again.

Y/n’s gaze followed automatically.

Luther burst out laughing.

“That’s incredible.”

Five pointed at them.

“This is not funny.”

“It’s extremely funny,” Diego said.

Y/n crossed her arms.

“You try ignoring that light.”

Five stared.

“My powers are not a nightlight.”

The most embarrassing moment happened late one evening.

Five was working at the dining table, surrounded by papers and complicated temporal calculations.

Y/n was on the couch behind him.

Very quiet.

Too quiet.

Five finished a note and blinked across the room to grab a book.

Blue light flashed.

Behind him—

thump.

Five turned slowly.

Y/n had stood up while watching the light and walked straight into the arm of the couch.

She was now leaning awkwardly against it.

Five stared.

“…did you just trip.”

“No.”

“You absolutely did.”

“I misjudged the furniture.”

Five sighed deeply.

“You cannot keep following the light like that.”

Y/n straightened, brushing her hair back.

“It’s instinct!”

“You’re a grown adult!”

“With moth powers!”

“That is not helpful!”

She grinned.

“You like it.”

Five tried to look annoyed.

But he was smiling.

Later that night they were lying in bed.

The lights were off.

Y/n rested her head on his shoulder.

“You know,” she murmured, “your powers are kind of beautiful.”

Five snorted.

“They are dangerous and unstable.”

“They’re blue.”

“That is not a scientific observation.”

She traced small circles on his arm.

“Do it once.”

Five sighed dramatically.

“You are impossible.”

But he blinked.

A soft pulse of blue light filled the room for just a moment.

Y/n smiled sleepily.

“Pretty.”

Five looked down at her.

For a moment he pretended to be annoyed.

Then he leaned over and kissed her forehead.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Mm.”

“And slightly defective.”

“Mm.”

“But you’re my moth.”

Y/n smiled against his shoulder.

“Your moth.”

Five blinked one more time.

The blue glow shimmered softly in the dark.

Y/n sighed happily.

Five shook his head.

He had already survived more world-ending disasters than anyone should reasonably experience.

But somehow the strangest thing in his life now was a woman with moth powers who adored the glow of his teleportation.

And honestly?

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Could Y/n be pregnant again?

A/N: I'm so sorry you had to wait so long, but this break was really necessary. I hope you like it; if so, please let me know. If you didn't like it, please tell me that too.

Warnings: none

The suspicion began with crackers.

Five Hargreeves walked into the kitchen at six in the morning to find his wife sitting cross-legged on the counter, eating plain salted crackers straight out of the sleeve like she was rationing food during a mild apocalypse.

He stopped mid-step.

“…Why are you up?”

Y/n blinked at him, chewing slowly. “Hungry.”

“You hate plain crackers.”

“I’m expanding my horizons.”

Five narrowed his eyes.

Y/n avoided eye contact and reached for another cracker.

Five had learned many things over his long, chaotic life. He could calculate timelines in seconds. He could assess threats before they materialized. He could tell when someone was lying by the shift in their breathing.

Y/n was lying.

He leaned against the counter. “What’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re eating food you describe as ‘emotionally disappointing.’ Something is wrong.”

She sighed dramatically. “I just feel weird.”

“Weird how.”

She hesitated. “Tired. A little nauseous. And I cried yesterday because the grocery store moved the cereal.”

Five stared at her.

Y/n winced. “In my defense, it was my favorite cereal.”

He crossed his arms slowly.

There was a long, heavy silence.

Y/n spoke first, very carefully. “It’s probably nothing.”

Five’s expression went from suspicion to dawning horror in three precise stages.

“…No.”

Y/n pressed her lips together.

“No,” he repeated.

“Okay but—”

“No.”

She slid off the counter. “Don’t panic.”

“I’m not panicking.”

“You’re doing the quiet voice.”

Five straightened. “We agreed.”

“Yes.”

“We said two children.”

“Yes.”

“We said Maddie and Milo are perfect.”

“They are perfect.”

“We said we are outnumbered but still in control.”

“That part is debatable.”

Five ran a hand over his face. “Y/n.”

She took a deep breath. “I might be pregnant.”

Silence.

From upstairs came the distant sound of Milo yelling, “Maddie, that’s MY book!” followed by Maddie shouting something that sounded suspiciously like, “It’s communal property now!”

Five closed his eyes briefly.

He loved his children. Fiercely. Maddie, now eleven, with her sarcasm and growing independence. Milo, seven, still half wild and perpetually sticky.

They were his entire world.

But two was enough.

Two felt balanced.

Three felt like chaos with paperwork.

“You’re sure?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Y/n admitted. “That’s the problem.”

Five inhaled slowly, calculating dates, logistics, emotional bandwidth.

Y/n watched him carefully. “Say something.”

“I’m thinking.”

“That’s what worries me.”

He looked at her. Really looked at her.

“Do you want this?” he asked.

Her shoulders sagged in relief at the question. “I don’t know. I love our life. I love Maddie and Milo. I love that we can manage bedtime without crying.”

“Mostly,” Five muttered.

“Mostly,” she agreed. “I don’t think I want to start over.”

Five nodded slowly. “Neither do I.”

They stared at each other.

“Well,” Y/n said weakly. “That’s not ominous at all.”

—

The next two days were torture.

Every small symptom became a sign.

Y/n yawned.

Five froze. “You yawned.”

“People yawn.”

“You only yawn like that when you’re pregnant.”

“That is not scientific.”

“You did it with Milo.”

“I was also raising a toddler.”

Fair point.

Later that afternoon, Y/n wrinkled her nose at the smell of coffee.

Five stared at her cup like it had betrayed him.

“You always love coffee.”

“I just don’t feel like it.”

He leaned closer. “This is how it starts.”

“Stop narrating my uterus.”

He pressed his lips together.

Meanwhile, Maddie noticed the tension immediately.

“Why are you both acting weird?” she asked, hands on hips.

“We are not acting weird,” Five replied too quickly.

Maddie narrowed her eyes. “You do the robot voice when you’re lying.”

Y/n coughed to hide a laugh.

Milo looked up from the floor where he was building something suspiciously unstable. “Is Mom dying?”

“No!” Y/n and Five said in perfect unison.

Milo blinked. “Okay.”

Five cleared his throat. “We are simply… considering a possibility.”

Maddie gasped dramatically. “Are we getting a dog?”

Y/n’s heart squeezed.

Five’s jaw tightened.

“…No,” he said carefully.

Maddie narrowed her eyes. “Are you getting a divorce?”

Y/n burst out laughing. “What? No!”

“Then what?”

Five and Y/n exchanged a look.

Y/n sighed. “There’s a chance… I might be pregnant.”

The room went still.

Maddie’s mouth fell open. “WHAT.”

Milo gasped like someone had announced the end of the world. “Another baby?!”

Five felt sweat forming at his temples.

“We don’t know yet,” he said quickly.

Maddie crossed her arms. “I am not sharing my room.”

Milo looked horrified. “Do babies cry all night?”

“Yes,” Five and Y/n said automatically.

Milo gasped louder.

Y/n buried her face in her hands.

—

The next morning, Y/n stood in the bathroom holding a pregnancy test like it was a live explosive.

Five hovered in the doorway, arms crossed, trying very hard to look calm.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

“No.”

“Do you want me to stop staring at it like it’s a detonator?”

“…Maybe.”

He forced himself to look at the wall instead.

Y/n exhaled shakily. “You know what the worst part is?”

“What.”

“I feel guilty for hoping it’s negative.”

Five turned to her immediately. “You are allowed to want the life we chose.”

Her eyes softened. “You’re really okay if it’s not?”

He stepped closer. “If it’s positive, we’ll handle it. If it’s negative, we’ll breathe. Either way, we’re fine.”

She nodded.

They waited.

Five counted seconds in his head.

Y/n paced.

Finally, she looked down.

Silence.

Five felt his heart pound in his throat. “Y/n?”

She stared at the test for a long moment.

Then she let out a breath so shaky it turned into a laugh.

“It’s negative.”

Five blinked. “You’re sure?”

She turned it toward him.

Negative.

Completely, gloriously negative.

Five exhaled like someone had just lifted a thousand pounds off his chest.

“Oh thank God,” he breathed.

Y/n laughed, tears in her eyes. “Oh thank God.”

He pulled her into his arms immediately, holding her tight.

They stood there for a long moment, just breathing.

“I love our life,” she whispered.

“So do I,” he replied.

He kissed her forehead. “Two is perfect.”

“Two is chaos but manageable chaos.”

“Strategic chaos.”

She snorted.

They walked downstairs together, hands intertwined.

Maddie looked up immediately. “Well?”

Y/n grinned. “No baby.”

Milo shot up like a rocket. “YES!”

Maddie sagged dramatically with relief. “Oh thank God. I just got my room organized.”

Five tried—and failed—to hide his smile.

Y/n wrapped her arms around both kids. “You two are more than enough.”

Milo squinted at Five. “You look happy.”

“I am,” Five said calmly.

Maddie studied him. “You were scared.”

Five raised an eyebrow. “I was not.”

“You were,” she insisted.

Y/n grinned. “He absolutely was.”

Five sighed. “Fine. I was… aware of the logistical implications.”

Milo blinked. “That means scared.”

Five glared mildly.

Y/n slipped her hand into his again, squeezing gently.

Later that night, after the kids were asleep, they sat on the couch together in the quiet.

“Are you disappointed?” Y/n asked softly.

Five shook his head immediately. “No. Relieved.”

She nodded. “Me too.”

He tilted his head toward her. “But if it had been different…”

“We would’ve figured it out.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “for two people who don’t want more kids, we handled that very emotionally.”

Five wrapped an arm around her. “We are allowed to feel things.”

She smiled. “Look at you, being healthy.”

He frowned slightly. “Don’t get used to it.”

She laughed softly.

Upstairs, Milo shouted in his sleep. Maddie’s door slammed as she told him to be quiet.

Five closed his eyes.

Chaos.

Loud, imperfect, wonderful chaos.

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Milo is afraid that his parents will be disappointed in him after the conversation.

Warnings: none

Five knew something was wrong when Milo voluntarily helped with the dishes.

Their fifteen-year-old son avoided chores with strategic brilliance. He could vanish mid-conversation. He could suddenly remember urgent homework. He could develop a deep philosophical need to reorganize his bookshelf.

So when Milo quietly dried plates beside Y/n without being asked, Five noticed.

He noticed the way Milo’s shoulders were tight.

The way he kept opening his mouth like he wanted to say something—and then didn’t.

Y/n noticed too.

She caught Five’s eye over Milo’s head.

Later that evening, when the house was quiet and Milo had retreated upstairs, Y/n and Five settled onto the couch.

“You’ve noticed it too,” Y/n murmured.

“Yes.”

“He’s working up to something.”

Five nodded slowly. “He’s been circling it for weeks.”

They hadn’t spoken about it out loud yet.

But they both suspected.

It wasn’t a single moment. It was small things. The way Milo’s gaze lingered on boys in movies. The way he’d tensed when a classmate made a careless joke. The way he’d gone quiet when conversations at family gatherings drifted toward future girlfriends.

Five had known long before Milo had the words.

Y/n had known in the way mothers sometimes just do.

But neither of them had said anything.

They wanted him to come to them.

Upstairs, Milo stared at his ceiling.

He’d rehearsed this a hundred times.

Mom. Dad. I’m gay.

Simple.

Two words.

It shouldn’t feel like stepping off a cliff.

But it did.

He knew his parents loved him. He knew that in his bones. But fear didn’t listen to logic. Fear whispered ugly possibilities in the dark.

What if they look at you differently?

What if Dad goes quiet?

What if Mom cries?

He sat up abruptly.

If he didn’t do it now, he never would.

He walked downstairs slowly.

Five and Y/n were still on the couch, the television casting soft light across the room.

Y/n muted it when she saw him.

“Milo?” she asked gently.

He swallowed.

“Can I—uh—can I talk to you?”

Five sat up straighter immediately. “Of course.”

Milo hovered in the doorway, then stepped inside like he was entering a courtroom.

Y/n patted the couch between them.

He sat.

Silence stretched.

Five didn’t rush him.

Y/n didn’t either.

Milo’s hands twisted together.

“I—um.” He cleared his throat. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Five’s voice was steady. “Take your time.”

Milo’s eyes filled unexpectedly fast.

That surprised him.

He hadn’t planned on crying.

“I don’t want things to be weird,” he blurted.

Y/n’s heart broke a little at that.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said softly.

“I just—” His voice wobbled. “I don’t want you to think I’m different.”

Five’s expression changed instantly.

“Milo,” he said quietly. “Look at me.”

Milo did.

“You could never be anything other than my son.”

Milo’s lip trembled.

“I’m gay,” he whispered.

The words hung in the air.

Y/n felt tears prick her eyes—not from shock, but from the sheer courage it had taken him to say it.

Five reached forward slowly and took Milo’s hands in his.

“I know,” Five said gently.

Milo blinked. “You—what?”

“We had a feeling,” Y/n admitted softly. “But we wanted you to tell us when you were ready.”

Milo’s face crumpled.

“You’re not mad?” he choked.

Five looked almost offended.

“Mad?” he repeated. “Why on earth would I be mad?”

“I don’t know,” Milo whispered. “Some parents are.”

Five’s jaw tightened briefly at the thought.

“Milo,” he said firmly, his voice thick with emotion, “you will always be my little boy. I don’t care who you love. I don’t care who you bring home someday. You are my little Milo. That doesn’t change.”

Milo started crying in earnest then.

Y/n pulled him into her arms immediately.

“Oh, honey,” she murmured into his hair.

Five wrapped his arms around both of them.

Milo’s shoulders shook as years of quiet fear drained out of him.

“I was so scared,” he admitted.

Five kissed the top of his head.

“You don’t ever have to be scared of us.”

Y/n cupped his face gently.

“We love you exactly as you are,” she said. “There’s nothing you could tell us that would make us love you less.”

Milo laughed shakily through tears. “Even if I fail math?”

Five considered it. “That would be deeply disappointing.”

Milo huffed a watery laugh.

“But survivable,” Five added softly.

They stayed like that for a long time.

Eventually, Milo wiped his eyes.

“There’s more,” he admitted.

Five raised an eyebrow.

“I think I want to tell everyone tonight.”

Y/n blinked. “At the barbecue?”

Milo nodded nervously. “I don’t want to keep hiding.”

Five studied him carefully.

“You don’t owe anyone an announcement,” he said.

“I know,” Milo replied. “But I want to.”

Y/n squeezed his hand. “Then we’ll be right there.”

—

By evening, the backyard was full.

Luther stood near the grill, carefully flipping burgers like they were fragile scientific specimens. Diego argued with Lila about seasoning. Their three kids ran in wild loops across the grass.

Allison and Viktor were setting up drinks on the patio table. Klaus lounged dramatically in a lawn chair, sunglasses perched on his nose despite the fading light.

Maddie had arrived from college that afternoon and was currently teasing Luther about his apron.

Five watched it all with quiet contentment.

This was their family.

Messy. Loud. Loyal.

Milo hovered near the patio doors, hands shoved in his pockets.

Y/n nudged him gently. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” he said again.

Five stepped beside him.

“You want me to start?” he asked quietly.

Milo shook his head. “I’ve got it.”

He stepped forward.

“Hey!” he called.

The noise dimmed gradually.

Everyone turned toward him.

Milo’s heart hammered.

He looked at his parents.

Y/n gave him a small nod.

Five’s expression was calm—but proud.

Milo inhaled.

“I just wanted to say something,” he began, voice shaking slightly. “I—um—I’m gay.”

Silence.

It lasted maybe two seconds.

It felt like a lifetime.

Then Klaus pushed his sunglasses up and smiled gently.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said warmly. “We know.”

Milo blinked.

“You do?”

Klaus waved a hand. “Welcome to the club, kiddo.”

Laughter broke the tension.

Milo let out a startled breath.

Luther stepped forward awkwardly and pulled him into a careful hug. “We love you, kid.”

Diego clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re still terrible at video games.”

“That’s not relevant,” Milo muttered, but he was smiling now.

Lila grinned and kissed his forehead. “Proud of you.”

Allison stepped in next, kissing his cheek. “Thank you for trusting us.”

Viktor gave him a soft, understanding smile.

And then Maddie.

She crossed the yard in three long strides and wrapped her arms tightly around her little brother.

“I am so proud of you,” she whispered fiercely. “Do you know how brave that was?”

Milo buried his face in her shoulder.

“I thought you’d think I was weird.”

She pulled back, horrified. “Are you kidding? You’re still the same annoying little brother who steals my fries.”

He laughed through tears.

Five watched from the patio, his chest aching in the best way.

Y/n slipped her hand into his.

“He did it,” she whispered.

“Yes,” Five said softly.

Milo pulled away from Maddie and glanced toward his parents.

Five opened his arms.

Milo crossed the yard and stepped into them without hesitation.

Five held him tightly.

“I meant what I said,” Five murmured quietly so only Milo could hear. “Always my boy.”

Milo nodded against his shoulder.

“I know,” he said.

And for the first time in a long time, he felt completely, perfectly safe.

The evening resumed with laughter and food and teasing.

But something had shifted.

Milo moved differently now—lighter.

He leaned into conversations instead of shrinking from them. He laughed louder. He didn’t flinch when Klaus dramatically asked about potential crushes.

As the sun set and string lights flickered on, Milo stood between his parents, watching his family.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

“For what?” Y/n asked.

“For waiting,” he replied. “For letting me figure it out.”

Y/n kissed the side of his head.

“There was never a clock on you.”

Milo smiled.

And under the soft glow of the backyard lights, surrounded by people who loved him exactly as he was, Milo felt something settle in his heart.

Not fear.

Not doubt.

Just happiness.

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Even the wedding night isn't really traditional for Five and his wife y/n.

Warnings: none

The reception had ended with a sparkler send-off, Klaus accidentally setting part of Luther’s sleeve on fire, and Diego doing the worm across the dance floor in front of Y/n’s Grandma. In other words: a typical Hargreeves evening.

Now, hours later, Five and Y/n stood in their hotel suite. The lights were dim, champagne waited in a bucket by the bed, and rose petals were scattered artfully across the sheets—clearly the work of someone on staff with an overzealous sense of romance and a Pinterest account.

Y/n kicked off her heels with a groan that was so deeply felt it could’ve come from her soul. “I don’t think I’ve ever stood for that long in my entire life.”

Five blinked at her. “You stood for a total of twenty-seven minutes.”

“Yeah, and fifteen of those were in heels while smiling at your robot mother who told me I had ‘kind eyes’ and then asked if I was pregnant.”

Five raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

Y/n threw a pillow at him. “I just married you, you menace.”

As Y/n flopped onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, Five stood near the edge of the room, still in his tuxedo, looking oddly stiff. It wasn’t like him. Well—it was, in the “always looks like he’s calculating the demise of a small country” way, but this was different.

“You okay?” Y/n asked, sitting up and peering at him.

“I’m fine,” Five said a little too quickly.

Y/n tilted her head. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird. I’m being…” He searched for the word. “Dignified.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “You're nervous.”

“No, I’m not,” he snapped, then immediately added, “...Okay, maybe a little.”

Y/n laughed softly. “Five, we’ve been married for—what—seven hours? We’ve had sex plenty of times. You’ve literally picked me up and teleported us to bed before.”

“Yeah, but that was pre-marriage sex,” Five said, deadpan. “This is the ceremonial wedding night sex. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Y/n blinked. “Okay, first of all, you’ve never disappointed me in bed. Second of all… what even is ceremonial wedding night sex? Is there a script? A dress code?”

“Probably,” Five mumbled, pulling off his bowtie like it had personally wronged him. “I didn’t look it up. Maybe there’s a handbook.”

Y/n snorted and motioned for him to join her. “Get over here, you dork.”

He climbed onto the bed beside her and pulled her into a slow kiss, hands on her waist, lips warm against hers. It was soft. Familiar. A little sleepy.

And then—simultaneously—they both yawned into each other’s mouths.

They pulled back at the same time, blinking.

“Did we just yawn-kiss?” Y/n asked.

“I think we invented it,” Five said grimly.

A beat passed. Then Y/n snorted, burying her face into his shoulder. “This is the most romantic disaster ever.”

“I can rally,” Five said, trying to shake the exhaustion off like a soldier ready for battle. “Just give me three minutes, two espresso shots, and possibly a slap to the face.”

“Or,” Y/n said, cupping his cheek sweetly, “we could just... sleep.”

Five blinked. “Sleep? But it’s our wedding night.”

Y/n smiled up at him, her thumb brushing just under his eye. “Five, the wedding was beautiful—but also overwhelming. I danced with your entire family, helped corral Diego’s little Boy after he tried to climb into the cake, and nearly passed out in the bathroom because my dress was too tight. I am so tired. I’m just happy I get to fall asleep next to you.”

He hesitated. “But what about tradition? Doesn’t every couple—?”

“I don’t buy it,” she interrupted gently. “I bet most couples are too exhausted to do anything but eat leftover cake in bed and fall asleep snoring. We have our entire lives to have sex. And we already know it’s good. We don’t have to prove anything.”

Five stared at her for a long moment. Then, finally, he exhaled a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You married me.”

“I did,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “And I would again. Even if it meant skipping the ceremonial wedding night nonsense.”

They slid under the covers, arms wrapped around each other, limbs tangled, hearts completely full. As they drifted toward sleep, Y/n mumbled into his chest:

“…But tomorrow morning? You better believe I’m cashing in that husband energy.”

Five chuckled, already halfway asleep. “Deal.”

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: It was just a snack. But today… it felt like more.

Warnings: none

Saturday mornings were usually slow and soft.

The smell of coffee. Bare feet on cool kitchen tiles. The quiet shuffle of Milo and Maddie bickering in low voices about cereal. Five flipping through the newspaper and occasionally grumbling about humanity.

But today the house was too quiet.

Y/n sat alone at the kitchen table, pen in hand, notebook open in front of her. The grocery list was half-written, her handwriting a little tighter than usual.

Milk Eggs Bread Apples (Milo's favorite) Yogurt (Maddie’s strawberry obsession) Dish soap Toothpaste

She stared at the list, tapping the pen against her chin.

Usually by now, she’d write it without thinking: Five’s snack.

A brand of oddly spicy, absurdly crunchy corn chips he swore were “the only good thing modern civilization has accomplished.” He could eat a whole bag in one sitting, usually while dissecting some terrible movie or pointing out logic flaws in crime dramas.

She always bought them. Without fail.

But today, she didn’t write it.

Not because she forgot.

But because she was still mad.

Sort of.

Or maybe… just sad.

It had started with something stupid.

Something about laundry. She’d asked if he could put a load in while she was out. He forgot. She reminded him—not angrily, just pointedly—and Five, who’d been working late nights and already on edge, snapped. Said something sharp. About how he wasn’t “the damn housekeeper.”

She’d blinked, stunned. He never talked to her like that.

She told him so.

He muttered an apology, but then it spiraled. Words neither of them meant, spoken in raised voices neither of them liked.

Eventually, she’d gone to bed without saying goodnight. He hadn’t come after her.

That had been two days ago.

They hadn’t really talked since.

Just careful exchanges over coffee and tired eyes that didn’t quite meet.

It was the dumbest fight they’d ever had, and yet… it hurt.

Y/n stared down at the blank space where his snack should be.

Her chest ached with guilt.

She didn’t want to punish him.

God, that wasn’t what this was.

She just couldn’t bring herself to write it down, like everything was normal.

It wasn’t.

It felt like a lie.

From upstairs came the sound of Milo asking Alexa what the square root of 49 was, followed by Maddie groaning, “You literally learned that last week, genius.” Their voices were familiar and grounding.

But they didn’t make her feel better.

She sighed and stood, grabbing her keys and the half-finished list.

It was just a snack.

But today… it felt like more.

The grocery store was crowded, as always on weekends. Y/n pushed the cart down the aisles, autopilot mode. Her hands picked up vegetables, checked expiration dates. Her body moved, but her heart wasn’t really in it.

Until she turned into the chip aisle.

And stopped.

There it was.

His snack. Right at eye level.

Mocking her.

She reached out automatically… then hesitated.

What if he noticed?

What if he looked through the bags later, like he always did, and saw it wasn’t there?

Would he be disappointed? Would he assume she was still angry?

Was she still angry?

No. Not really.

Just… bruised.

She stared at the shelf a moment longer, then shook her head and moved on.

Back home, the house was still quiet.

The kids were in the living room, building something absurd out of LEGOs and narrating a dramatic soap opera involving dragons and cursed castles.

Five was nowhere in sight.

Y/n put the groceries away slowly, trying not to think about how wrong the kitchen felt without him in it—arms crossed, hovering behind her, stealing grapes before she could wash them.

She opened the pantry and froze.

Right there, on the snack shelf.

A half-empty bag of the spicy corn chips.

Her heart twisted.

He’d bought them himself. Probably yesterday. Quietly. Without saying anything. Like maybe he didn’t expect her to anymore.

Y/n closed the pantry door gently.

Her throat was tight.

That night, after the kids went to bed and the house fell quiet again, she found him in the study.

Five was sitting on the small couch by the window, legs stretched out, a book in his lap he clearly wasn’t reading. He looked up when she knocked on the doorframe.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Y/n leaned against the door, arms folded. “Hey.”

Silence.

And then—

“I didn’t buy the chips,” she blurted. “On purpose.”

Five blinked. “Okay.”

“I just… I was still upset. And I didn’t want to act like everything was fine when it wasn’t. And that was stupid. It’s just a snack, I know, but it felt—”

“You’re allowed to be upset,” he interrupted gently. “I was a jerk. I snapped. You didn’t deserve that.”

Y/n swallowed. “You’ve been tired lately.”

He sighed. “I’ve been overwhelmed. Not just with work, but everything. And I should’ve told you instead of biting your head off over laundry. I’m sorry.”

She walked in slowly, sitting beside him.

“I know,” she said. “And I shouldn’t have frozen you out.”

Five tilted his head. “You didn’t freeze me out. You were just… hurt.”

She nodded.

They sat in silence for a moment, shoulders almost touching.

“I saw the bag in the pantry,” she said, glancing at him.

A ghost of a smile flickered across his lips. “Emergency stash.”

Y/n laughed softly. “I felt awful.”

“You’re allowed to leave my snack off the list once in a while,” he teased.

She nudged him with her shoulder. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t.”

He leaned over and kissed her temple.

“Just promise if I ever say something that stupid again, you’ll throw something at me. Like a frozen waffle. Or a spatula.”

“Deal,” she said, finally smiling.

Later, they curled up on the couch together, legs tangled, the TV humming in the background with something neither of them were watching.

Five reached down and pulled the half-eaten snack bag from under the cushion, offering it to her.

Y/n wrinkled her nose. “I’m not eating those things.”

“Come on. One bite. Peace offering.”

She took one chip reluctantly, crunched it, and immediately coughed. “Still disgusting.”

Five grinned, licking the orange dust from his fingers.

“I missed you,” she murmured, resting her head against his shoulder.

“I never went anywhere,” he whispered back.

She didn’t respond.

Just held his hand.

And promised herself that next Saturday, no matter what, that stupid snack would be back on the list.

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Summary: Y/n is the complete opposite of Five

A/N: Okay, first of all, I'm sorry you had to wait so long. Secondly, I think I'm being stupid, because I wrote something for you, but now that I'm rereading your message, it sounds like you had your own idea and just wanted to ask me if you could share your idea with me, so I could then write something. So I wrote a one-shot. With Y/n, who has tattoos and piercings. I'll just post it here; you can of course share your ideas with me, and then I'll write you a new one-shot based on your idea. Does that make sense? I hope you understand what I mean.

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves hated shopping.

He hated the fluorescent lights, the wandering strangers who seemed incapable of walking in straight lines, the music that was always just loud enough to be irritating, and—most of all—the parking lot.

He had been circling the same stretch of asphalt for nine minutes and forty-two seconds.

He knew this because he had checked his watch twice and mentally calculated how much of his life was being wasted on people who apparently thought a blinker was a suggestion.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself, gripping the steering wheel of his sensible, boring car.

A spot finally opened up near the entrance. Five’s eyes locked onto it like a predator spotting prey. He flicked on his blinker, angled the car perfectly, and began to pull in.

Then—zoom.

A beat-up but cheerful-looking car swooped in from the opposite direction and slid effortlessly into the space.

Five slammed on the brakes.

“What—no. No. Absolutely not.”

The driver hopped out before Five could even roll down his window. She had long hair pulled into a messy bun, tattoos peeking out from under a loose tank top, and at least three visible piercings. She turned, caught Five staring, and flashed him a grin so unapologetic it was almost criminal.

“Sorry!” she called cheerfully. “You snooze, you lose!”

Five stared at her, stunned.

“I had my blinker on,” he said flatly.

She tilted her head, studying him like a curious cat. “Did you, though?”

“Yes. I did.”

She shrugged, utterly unbothered. “Ah. Tragic.”

Then she grabbed her reusable shopping bags and walked toward the store, humming.

Five sat there for a moment, jaw clenched.

“I hate her,” he decided.

He parked three rows away.

Inside the store, Five grabbed a basket and made a beeline for the coffee aisle. This was a precise operation. In and out. No distractions.

He reached the shelf.

Empty.

No. No, no, no.

There was one container left of his favorite brand.

And a tattooed arm reached out and took it.

Five slowly turned his head.

It was her.

She looked at the coffee, then at him, then smiled again. “Oh! You wanted this?”

“Yes,” Five said stiffly. “I did.”

She frowned theatrically. “Hmm. That’s awkward.”

She glanced at the shelf. “Last one.”

“I see that.”

She hesitated—just for a second—then shrugged. “I mean… I already touched it.”

Five stared at her. “That is not how ownership works.”

She laughed, bright and unrestrained. “Wow. You’re intense.”

She dropped the coffee into her shopping cart.

Five inhaled deeply. “Unbelievable.”

She paused. “Hey. For what it’s worth, I really was sorry about the parking spot.”

“You didn’t sound sorry.”

“I’m bad at sounding remorseful.”

She offered him a grin again, then wheeled her cart away.

Five stood there, baffled.

“I definitely hate her,” he muttered.

And yet—annoyingly—his mouth twitched.

Ten minutes later, he was contemplating pasta shapes when something slammed into his side.

“Oof!”

Five stumbled forward, barely catching himself on the shelf.

“Oh my god—I’m so sorry!” a familiar voice exclaimed.

He turned slowly.

Her shopping cart was pressed into his leg.

She winced. “I swear I’m not stalking you.”

Five raised an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me.”

She laughed again. “Okay, that one was my fault. Completely.”

She looked him over. “You okay?”

“I’ve survived worse.”

“Dramatic,” she teased.

He sighed. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Am I?” she said innocently. “Or is the universe just… very invested in us meeting?”

He snorted before he could stop himself.

She noticed.

“Oh,” she said, eyes lighting up. “He does have a sense of humor.”

“Don’t get excited.”

Too late—she already was.

They ran into each other again near the checkout. And again near the freezer aisle. And again when she dropped something and he instinctively handed it back.

Every time, Five told himself to ignore her.

Every time, he failed.

She was loud. Friendly. She talked to strangers. She joked with the cashier. She complimented a random kid’s dinosaur shirt.

She was everything Five wasn’t.

And somehow… he couldn’t stop noticing her.

Finally, he paid and headed out to his car, annoyed with himself.

This was ridiculous. He didn’t do spontaneous women with piercings and chaotic energy.

He unlocked his car.

“Hey!”

He turned.

She jogged over, shopping bags swinging, breath slightly uneven.

“There you are,” she said, smiling like she’d just found something she’d been looking for.

Five crossed his arms. “Come to steal my car too?”

She laughed. “Tempting, but no.”

She shifted her weight, suddenly a little less carefree. “I realized something.”

“Oh?”

She gestured between them. “We’ve spent, like, half an hour accidentally colliding. And I don’t know your name.”

He hesitated.

“Five,” he said finally.

She blinked. “Five?”

“Yes.”

“Like… the number?”

“Yes.”

She grinned wider. “That’s amazing.”

He sighed. “I get that a lot.”

“I’m Y/n,” she said. “Nice to officially meet you, Parking Spot Guy.”

He rolled his eyes. “Coffee Thief.”

“Fair.”

She took a breath. “So. Here’s the thing.”

He waited.

“I think you’re cute,” she said bluntly. “In a grumpy, looks-like-he-hates-everything way.”

“I do hate most things.”

“See? Honesty. Love that.”

She gestured to his car. “And I think you’re going to drive home and keep thinking about me, which is annoying.”

His silence was telling.

She smiled softly. “So I figured I’d save us both the trouble.”

She met his eyes. “Want to go out sometime?”

Five stared at her.

He should say no.

He should absolutely say no.

Instead, he heard himself say, “I… don’t usually do this.”

Y/n shrugged. “I usually do. We can balance each other out.”

He studied her—really studied her. The confidence. The warmth. The spark.

“Fine,” he said. “One date.”

Her face lit up. “Yes.”

She handed him her phone. “Put your number in.”

He did.

As she walked back to her car, she called over her shoulder, “Oh—and Five?”

“Yes?”

She grinned. “I’m totally stealing your parking spot again if I see you.”

He shook his head.