Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader
Summary: Five and Y/n have to share their bed with someone.
It was 2:47 in the morning, and Five Hargreeves was losing another battle.
Not against assassins. Not against time. Not even against one of Diego’s ridiculous conspiracy theories.
No—he was losing to Mr. Pennycrumb, a forty-pound golden mutt currently sprawled across his chest like a living, snoring paperweight.
Five groaned, trying to shift his position without waking his wife, Y/n, who slept blissfully on the other side of the bed. The problem was that there wasn’t another side of the bed—not anymore. There was only Y/n, her pillow fort, and the Great Wall of Dog.
“Unbelievable,” Five muttered under his breath, trying to nudge Mr. Pennycrumb off his ribcage. The dog responded by sighing deeply and spreading out even more.
Five stared at the ceiling. “He’s doing it on purpose.”
From beside him, Y/n murmured sleepily, “Hmm?”
“Your furry little co-conspirator,” Five whispered. “He’s pushing me off the bed again.”
Y/n cracked one eye open, her voice still thick with sleep. “Oh, Five. He’s not doing it on purpose. He just loves you.”
“Love shouldn’t require me to dislocate a shoulder,” Five hissed.
Y/n chuckled softly, rolling onto her side. “You could move him, you know.”
“I have moved him. Twice.”
Her lips curved into a sleepy smile. “Then move him again.”
He scowled at her, then at the dog. “Fine. Round three.”
He braced his arm against the mattress and gently tried to slide Mr. Pennycrumb toward the foot of the bed. The dog responded by lifting his head, blinking blearily—then flopping right back down with a thud, now half on top of Five’s leg.
“Excellent,” Five muttered. “I’ve lost circulation.”
Y/n snorted into her pillow, trying to hide her laughter.
“Don’t laugh at my suffering,” Five said sharply. “This is a tactical invasion of personal space.”
Y/n turned to face him, biting her lip to keep from laughing harder. “Tactical invasion, huh?”
“Yes,” he said gravely. “I have two inches of mattress left. I’m clinging to the edge like a man in a shipwreck.”
She laughed outright now, her voice bubbling through the dark. “He’s just a dog, Five.”
“He’s a bed hog disguised as a dog!”
That did it. Y/n broke into full-on laughter, clutching her blanket as she giggled. Mr. Pennycrumb, sensing the disturbance, lifted his head and yawned, before promptly shifting closer to Five, pressing against his ribs.
Five stared at the ceiling again, deadpan. “He knows.”
Y/n wiped her eyes. “Five, he’s not plotting against you.”
“Yes, he is. Look at him—he’s pretending to sleep, but I can feel the smugness radiating off of him.”
Mr. Pennycrumb gave a small snore in response.
“See? That’s a taunt,” Five said, pointing.
Y/n was laughing so hard she nearly fell off her side of the bed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m ridiculous?” Five said, sitting up slightly. “I’m the one who pays the mortgage, and somehow I have less claim to the bed than the dog!”
“Because the dog is cuter.”
He turned slowly to look at her, affronted. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t act surprised,” Y/n teased. “He’s got those big brown eyes and that adorable little snout. You, on the other hand—”
“—am a man fighting for survival,” Five cut in. “If this continues, I’ll have to start sleeping standing up.”
Y/n chuckled again, reaching over to scratch Mr. Pennycrumb behind the ears. “Oh, don’t listen to Daddy. He’s just cranky.”
Five groaned. “Please don’t call me Daddy in front of the dog.”
“Oh, I think he knows,” Y/n said mischievously. “You’re the strict one.”
Five blinked. “He ate my socks yesterday.”
“Because you yelled at him for stealing your sandwich!”
Y/n grinned. “And he made it better by eating it.”
Five stared at her, aghast. “You’re siding with him.”
“This is mutiny,” Five said. “Pure and simple.”
Y/n rolled onto her back, giggling. “You know what? I think Mr. Pennycrumb’s winning this war.”
The next morning, Five woke up on the floor.
Face-first in a blanket, one pillow beneath his arm, and Mr. Pennycrumb happily stretched across his side of the bed like a fluffy king.
Y/n was already up, humming in the kitchen, coffee brewing and bacon sizzling.
He groaned, sitting up and rubbing his back. “Unbelievable. I’ve been exiled.”
“Good morning, sunshine!” Y/n called from the kitchen. “Sleep well?”
He glared down the hallway. “I slept on the floor.”
She peeked around the corner, holding a spatula. “Then why do you look so grumpy?”
“Because your furry overlord pushed me off the bed!”
Y/n laughed. “Oh, come on, you make it sound like he planned it.”
“He did plan it!” Five exclaimed. “He waited until I fell asleep, then strategically scooted me toward the edge like a furry bulldozer.”
Y/n chuckled, plating the bacon. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Am I?” he said, pointing accusingly toward the bedroom. “Go look! He’s sprawled out diagonally across the entire bed like he pays rent.”
Y/n walked over to the doorway and peeked inside—then burst out laughing.
There he was: Mr. Pennycrumb, flat on his back, paws splayed, tail wagging lazily in his sleep.
Five threw his hands up. “See? I rest my case!”
Y/n leaned against the doorframe, giggling. “You have to admit, he’s cute.”
Five pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, he’s cute. But so is an armed raccoon—doesn’t mean I want to share a bed with one.”
Y/n smirked. “You love him.”
“I feed him,” Five corrected. “That’s it.”
Y/n walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You’re such a liar.”
He sighed, his expression softening slightly. “Maybe.”
She smiled up at him. “You’re just jealous.”
“Of the dog?” Five asked incredulously.
Y/n nodded, dead serious. “He gets all the cuddles.”
Five blinked. “Unbelievable. I’m competing with a dog for affection.”
Y/n grinned. “And losing.”
He groaned. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”
“Oh, absolutely,” she said, laughing. “You have to admit—it’s kind of adorable. Big, tough Five Hargreeves, genius time traveler, CIA agent, losing battles to a golden fluffball.”
Five muttered, “You’re lucky I love you.”
“I know,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Now, breakfast?”
That night, Five took precautions.
When Y/n came to bed, she found him standing by the mattress, hands on hips, an expression of grim determination.
“Five,” she said slowly, “what are you doing?”
He pointed at the neatly folded blanket and small dog bed beside the dresser. “I’ve established new sleeping arrangements.”
Y/n blinked. “You’re serious?”
“Completely,” Five said. “Mr. Pennycrumb has his own bed now. No more mattress monarchy.”
Y/n bit back a laugh. “You really think that’s going to work?”
“Of course it will,” Five said confidently. “I’m the human. I make the rules.”
An hour later, Five woke to find Mr. Pennycrumb curled up between him and Y/n.
“HOW?!” he whispered in disbelief.
Y/n, half-asleep, mumbled, “He used his cute face.”
Five stared at the dog. “You bribed her, didn’t you?”
Mr. Pennycrumb wagged his tail, eyes closed.
Five sighed. “This is hopeless.”
By the end of the week, Five had fallen off the bed three more times.
Once because Mr. Pennycrumb kicked him in the ribs.
Once because Y/n, in her sleep, pulled the blanket too hard.
And once because the dog decided to stretch—and Five was the casualty.
“Maybe we should get a bigger bed,” she suggested one morning, sipping coffee as Five limped into the kitchen.
“No,” Five grumbled. “That’ll just give him more room to conquer.”
Y/n giggled. “You could sleep on the couch.”
“I did sleep on the couch,” he said flatly. “He joined me.”
Y/n laughed so hard she nearly spilled her coffee. “He really loves you.”
Five narrowed his eyes. “You find this funny now, but one day he’s going to start hogging your pillow, and then we’ll see who’s laughing.”
“Then I’ll just use your side,” Y/n teased.
He sighed, shaking his head. “You’re all conspiring against me. You, the dog, the universe…”
She walked over, wrapping her arms around him. “You know you wouldn’t change it for the world.”
Five hesitated… then smiled faintly. “Maybe not.”
At that exact moment, Mr. Pennycrumb trotted in, tail wagging, and dropped his favorite toy at Five’s feet.
Five crouched down, scratching behind his ears. “You’re a menace, you know that?”
Y/n smirked. “Translation: ‘I love you, Dad.’”
Five sighed, but his voice was warm when he said, “Yeah, yeah. Love you too, furball.”
That night, when Y/n came to bed, she found Five already lying down—Mr. Pennycrumb curled peacefully between them, his head resting on Five’s arm.
Y/n smiled. “Oh, so you gave in?”
Five glanced over at her, deadpan. “I’m too tired to fight him anymore.”
She chuckled softly, kissing his forehead. “Admit it. You like having him there.”
Five sighed. “Fine. Maybe a little.”
He rolled his eyes, pulling the blanket up. “But if he pushes me off the bed again, he’s sleeping outside.”
Mr. Pennycrumb gave a happy little snore in response.
Y/n laughed quietly. “He heard you. He doesn’t believe you.”
Five muttered something unintelligible, but his arm stayed right where it was—beneath the dog’s head.
And as the three of them drifted off to sleep, Y/n couldn’t help smiling.
Five might have been a genius, a spy, and a survivor of multiple apocalypses—but when it came to Mr. Pennycrumb, he didn’t stand a chance.
