- thinking about boyfriend!tate… helping you add and remove beads from your braids. he’s there and useful, so what’s stopping him from getting some work in?
- thinking about boyfriend!tate… watching you do your hair from a distance as to not disturb you. you never realized he was watching until he asked help you freshen up your hair. the boy takes notes.
- thinking about boyfriend!tate… reminding you that you still look beautiful whenever you feel insecure about not having your hair done. there will never be a day where he’ll let your worries override how hot he thinks you are, and he never wants you to forget your worth.
- thinking about boyfriend!tate… assisting you with picking out clips, beads, and new colors to try. feeling indecisive? just ask him; he’s happy to give his two cents.
- thinking about boyfriend!tate… stepping in whenever you’re struggling to put your hair up in a certain style or wrap it up for the night. whether you have a lot of hair to keep up with or your hands and arms are just tired, he’s there to save the day.
- thinking about boyfriend!tate… bombarding you with questions on wash days. he wants to know as much as there is to learn about your hair because he loves it. and he loves you.
- thinking about boyfriend!tate… who would literally kill anyone who tried to make fun of your hair or make you feel bad about yourself in any way. what’s there to laugh about? you look good, you feel good; so, what’s the issue?
- thinking about boyfriend!tate… trying to finish your hair for you whenever your fingers get sore, and you watching cautiously. you adore his enthusiasm, but you can’t afford any huge mistakes after you spent so long making installations. plus, you have school in the morning…
- thinking about boyfriend!tate… finding comfort within those moments of you giving him permission to help you with your hair. they’re intimate and they’re safe. he takes pride in the fact that he’s one of the few people (if not the only person) you allow to help do your hair.
- thinking about boyfriend!tate… readjusting your bonnet whenever it starts to slip off at night. he doesn’t want to wake you so you can fix it yourself, and he doesn’t need to sleep, so he’ll always be there to do it for you.
thinking about that scene in the fourth season where lila and allison share a vape and getting very confused because… she had a vape, but not a single person in that family had an iphone. like omg. they really were living in hell. why does the handler get an iphone in the post-credits scene, but they were stuck using LANDLINES and PAYPHONES in the year 2024. did their existence stop the creation of modern day phones or something????? i’m sick to my stomach
you know how much of the shit that happened in the season that could’ve been solved faster with the fucking find my app?? a fucking airtag??? JUST GET AN IPHONE!!!!! we had to watch almost six hours of “we need to find so and so, but we have no clue where they are” because none of them had an IPHONE!!!! and you know people would have their locations visible on instagram if they were allowed to have phones
baby shark exists, but iphones don’t. how is this possible.
— headcanons: the daily life as five hargreeves’ zombie fiancée + a bonus prequel scene at the end.
PART 1
tags: fem!zombie!reader, fluff to make up for the lack of it in the initial post, and angst at the end because i like witnessing five suffer
tw: mentions of suicide in the prequel section
notes: happy pride month to five hargreeves, one of my favorite bisexuals (and to my fellow black bisexual readers!!!! i love y’all!!)
five solving puzzles in the morning paper with you—word crosses, riddles, all that jazz. they make for good practice when he’s too tired to come up with actual lesson plans.
five sitting outside on the porch with you in the morning, sipping on his coffee while his free hand rests on your thigh. you sit in silence, listening to the birds and watching the squirrels run around.
in fact, i can only see him letting you outside whenever he wants to enjoy the morning weather
there are too many risks that come with letting you out in public
five cooking breakfast or dinner while you mindlessly watch the flashing colors coming from the tv
luther having one-sided conversations with you about his time in space whenever five’s at work
i’m envisioning this being the gateway to you developing an interest in space when your brain gets readjusted, so you’ll eventually nerd out with him
i also see this as luther having a friend he can talk about the same stuff as he did with sloane
:(
luther being your physical therapist since he can relate to needing the care after having to adjust to his chimp body
five sharing penut-butter and marshmallow sandwiches with you
five REFUSING to get you to try his coffee because he can barely keep track of you when you’re not under the influence of caffeine
you and five napping together after a long day at work
like, five’s head is leaned back against the headboard and you’re laying your head on his lap while he rubs your arm until he falls asleep
#needthatrealbad
whenever luther’s watching you and five’s running errands, he FREQUENTLY calls
like, once every hour
the man is paranoid, but he wants to sound like he doesn’t care
“just making sure you’re not torturing my wife with that smooth brain of yours” - five to luther
“knowing how insufferable you are, a part of me was expecting her to run away. i was just making sure you didn’t lose her” - also five to luther
he just wants you to be okay, and he can’t find it in himself to trust his siblings after all the shit they went through
five leaving the dining table for a few seconds and coming back to your food splattered all over the walls
luther calling diego for help whenever he’s unable to get you under control, and they end up destroying the house
diego eventually calling lila so she can help fix things since she’s the most responsible of the trio (the bar is low)
diego and lila spending most of the time arguing
five coming back, finding out anyway, and lashing out (at them, not you)
i’m imagining a scenario where five waits until you’re asleep to drink his anxiety away, but you end up waking up and getting out of bed, so you either pass out at the dining table together or he stumbles back into bed with you following behind
and no, he doesn’t let you drink
five will make sure to give you a forehead kiss before leaving for work EVERY morning. he never forgets.
viktor makes sure to ask about your progress whenever he calls five since he can’t physically be there to help
i don’t care about five saying he never liked vanya in the comic; five and viktor will always have a healthy sibling relationship on MY blog
five occasionally rants about dolores whenever you both can’t bring yourselves to sleep. i say occasionally because he’d rather talk about the memories he spent with you rather than the ones made in the apocalypse (plus, talking about his first lost love kinda adds salt to the wound, but he hates himself, so he brings her up anyway). It’s relieving to get all that emotional baggage out without being judged
in a way, you’re somewhat like dolores now
i’m a firm believer of five being a little spoon, okay; and maybe that’s just my desire to care for him coming out
BUT
before your death, he’d mostly be a little spoon. hold that man like he’s your own newborn baby because he needs that kind of love. he probably wouldn’t verbally ask for it, but more so “subtly” force his way into your arms
after your death, you can’t entirely grasp the concept of spooning, so he doesn’t have a choice other than to be the big spoon. HOWEVER, after enough shuffling throughout the night, his head is landing right on your chest and those arms are keeping a death grip around your waist, and he’s staying that way until morning
i don’t make the rules, i just tell it how it is
lila teaching five how to do certain hairstyles on you, depending on whether or not you had favorites
i’m saying lila instead of a youtube tutorial due to my recent rant about the lack of modern technology in season four, like i really just can’t wrap my head around it
moving on before i get irritated again
Five sighed heavily, raising his arm up to signal for the bartender in front of him. “Keep ‘em comin’, dear.”
He was on his eighth drink—or was it his tenth? It didn’t really matter since both numbers left him with the same hazy outcome. His eyes glistened with tears that he couldn’t bring himself to shed, and for every grab of his glass, his hand shook with anxiety. He was like a bridge seconds away from collapsing from pressure. The funny thing about it was that he’d been through hell and back for his entire life, yet this was what truly did it. Losing you felt like his heart had been ripped out and torn apart right in front of him, only for him to be left with the small pieces to put back together right at his feet.
The more he thought about it, the more his stomach churned with discomfort. He should probably get up and go home, take a hot shower and finally eat something, but that place had no room for him at the moment. Everywhere he went, there was some sort of reminder of you. The photos of you hanging on the walls and standing on his nightstand, your scent on the sheets, that one cozy blanket that you always used whenever you wanted to nap on the couch. It was horrible. Seeing all of your belongings while knowing that you’d never come back felt unreal.
Five sniffled before reaching his hand out to take ahold of the drink the bartender slid over to him. He took a small sip before setting it back down and dipping his head.
“You look a little young to be out here, don’t you think, boy?”
His head then slowly raised and turned to the source of the sound. A larger man dressed in black leather with salt-and-pepper hair slicked back into a ponytail stared back. His beard was long and gray, his voice was gruff, and his overall aura came off as daunting due to his size. From the patch on the back of his vest, it was safe to assume that he was apart of some sort of biker gang, or maybe he simply enjoyed dressing up to look like some sort of punk. Although, Five was far too drunk to care about whether or not the stranger was searching for a bar fight or if he was showing legitimate concern.
It was smart to stay on guard, especially when it came to someone like Five, but tonight simply wasn’t his night. He was already struggling to decide if he should take a bullet to the head instead or go further with his disastrous life.
“What’s it to you?” He croaked out ruggedly, eyes struggling to stay open. They remained hidden by his unruly bangs. “I’ve got my reasons to be here; you’ve got yours.”
As if they were at some sort of comedy club, the nearby associates of the man broke into quiet, mocking snickers. They found amusement in the idea of someone who looked so young and harmless refraining from getting weak knees after meeting someone who was twice their size. Five rolled his eyes.
“If you must know,” he began with a more modest demeanor, “I lost someone. Someone very important to me. I’m just… trying to get a bit of liquid courage before I have to go back home.”
“Sorry for your loss,” the man uttered before taking a long sip from his glass. His friends had seemed to calm down after hearing his explanation, their smiles switching into one of pity. He hated the attention. “Meet new people. It’ll take your mind off the hurt.”
Meeting new people seemed like social suicide. Even after meeting his lover, Five was still not used to the complexities that came with living a normal life. He wasn’t interested in talking to people, he was interested in getting a paycheck and lounging with his wife for the rest of his time on Earth.
“You’re too young and good-looking to be wasting away at a bar,” the older man added. “You need to get out and do something productive.”
Five squinted his eyes at him suspiciously, seemingly offended. “You comin’ onto me?” The man stared back, copying the same confused expression. Before he could speak, the drunkard cut him off.
“Look, I’m flattered, but you’re not my type, one; and two, I’m currently grieving my late wife, so if you could please—”
“That wasn’t where I was goin’ with that.” The man shook his head and let out a disappointed sigh. “Look, all I’m saying is that in order to move on, you need to push yourself to do something new.”
“Nope,” he could’ve laughed at how ridiculous the suggestion seemed to him, but he shook his head instead. “Not happening. It’s not as simple as you think it might be.”
“I mean, I had it all: a beautiful fiancée, a woman who understood and loved me despite how difficult I am, someone to keep my side of the bed warm when I work late and listen to my incessant complaining,” Five scoffed before chugging his drink. The now-empty glass struck the countertop loudly. “And I lost it all to some moron with a drinking problem.”
He wasn’t drunk enough to not hear the irony in his criticism, but he didn’t care much to call himself out.
“Can you imagine having the ability to turn back time, but lacking the skill needed to go as far back as you’d like to?” he asked the biker sitting beside him. “All of that power, all of that effort… for nothing, essentially.”
He laughed, but there was no joy behind it. An awkward tenseness wavered around the bar, causing a small selection of people to slowly stand from their stools and retreat elsewhere. “There’s honestly nothing left for me to do.”
“I know how you feel. I lost my wife a couple years back.”
“How’d you get over it?” Five asked, finally choosing to make eye contact with the mystery man.
“I took the grief one step at a time. I adapted.”
“Well, I’m tired of working my ass off just to constantly be disappointed.” He was a lost cause—everyone listening in on their conversation knew it. The only person who could help Five was himself, and he couldn’t work with that. “I might just throw in the towel and blow my brains out.”
“When?”
Stone cold, unexpected, simple.
When.
Five went dead silent, and the same went for his brain. He had no idea how to respond to the question—should he say tonight? Would tonight truly be the last he’d spend alive, or was that merely a mix of his impulsivity and the alcohol talking for him? What would you think of him if you heard him admit to something so brash and devastating? Five’s train of thought was thrown off with a single snap of the finger, and now the guilt was seeping into his heart and making him reconsider his behavior. Rather than cooking up a genuine, well-thought-out answer, he stayed quiet and avoided making eye contact with the outsiders of his personal bubble.
As a result of Five’s wandering eyes, his gaze locked onto the closest landline. It was unoccupied and calling his name. Sluggishly, Five held onto the rim of the counter and slid out of his seat, ignoring the concerned looks and murmurs coming from the bikers. His legs moved on their own, stumbling over to the phone while his head throbbed as if he were in the middle of the crowd at a thrash metal concert. Drinkers in his path moved to the side and made way for him in order to avoid collision.
His fingers brushed over the numbers engraved in the number pad. Eventually, he managed to dial the number of one of his dearest siblings.
“Hello,” the sound of a man’s joyous melodic voice erupted through the plastic, “Klaus Hargreeves speaking.”
“Klaus,” he cut himself off with a gag and turned his head to the side, nearing the point of vomiting. Once he recovered, he brought his attention back to the phone call. “Klaus, I need your help.”
The slurring, his siblings were used to hearing the slurring. From the other line, his brother’s expression hardened with worry. “Five? Are you- are you drunk?”
“What difference does it make if I’m drunk? Just listen to me,” he whisper-yelled, “I need you to meet me at the morgue.”
“The morgue?”
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
“And what could you possibly need to do over there?” His siblings knew of your passing, and they wanted to be there for Five—most of them, at least—but like he always did, he pushed them away. No amount of late-night calls from Viktor would get rid of the hole in his heart; the pain he felt in his chest with every reminder. They only made reality harder to swallow.
Klaus was surprised to be the one Five finally chose to call for help, but suggesting that they meet at the morgue? That raised a lot of red flags in his head.
“I’ll tell you when we get there; just stop wasting my time and go.”
“You’re not gonna do anything crazy,” Klaus questioned hesitantly, “right?”
“You’re gonna show up regardless, Klaus, so does it really matter?”
“Okay, yeah,” he nodded, “That’s fair. But you’re drunk as a skunk, and I’m supposed to be the responsible one.”
“I’m a grown man,” Five lectured, “I can do whatever the hell I want. I don’t need you to babysit me, I just need you to help me.”
“Five, I don’t think—”
“Please.”
The line went quiet after Five’s begging passed through to the other. He never begged for anything, ever. He was the type to get what he wanted whenever he wanted it by any means necessary. Five played by his own rules alone, and he didn’t care for the people who tried to stop him. So, to hear him be so vulnerable and desperate… he had a good tug on his heartstrings.
Klaus released a reluctant sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll be there.”
“Thank you,” he replied with a softer tone. “And please, don’t make me regret going to you for help.”
His brother scoffed at the idea. “What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like you’d ask me to communicate with your dead fiancée or anything, right? It’s too soon for that.”
thinking about that scene in the fourth season where lila and allison share a vape and getting very confused because… she had a vape, but not a single person in that family had an iphone. like omg. they really were living in hell. why does the handler get an iphone in the post-credits scene, but they were stuck using LANDLINES and PAYPHONES in the year 2024. did their existence stop the creation of modern day phones or something????? i’m sick to my stomach
you know how much of the shit that happened in the season that could’ve been solved faster with the fucking find my app?? a fucking airtag??? JUST GET AN IPHONE!!!!! we had to watch almost six hours of “we need to find so and so, but we have no clue where they are” because none of them had an IPHONE!!!! and you know people would have their locations visible on instagram if they were allowed to have phones
baby shark exists, but iphones don’t. how is this possible.
do you think five hargreeves and leon kennedy would get along? asking for a friend (it’s me.)
yes
not entirely sure
no
Voting ended onJun 23
personally, i don’t think they would be best friends or anything, but there would be a level a respect between them. they’d work good together, right? i just don’t know if five would fall in love with leon’s humor like everyone else (my vision of this being leon making a stupid dad joke and five rolling his eyes in response—possibly grimacing, as well—before moving on), but i can definitely see them nearly getting alcohol poisoning at a bar while talking about how miserable their lives are. maybe they’d go out for bingo night every once in awhile. i’m so iffy on this and i’m in desperate need of a second opinion, or whatever leon said that one time
tags: fem!zombie!reader, SEASON FOUR NEVER HAPPENED, but aspects of the season are used for plot purposes; angst-fluff mix, this was made with the intention of purely being fluff but i got carried away + klaus and five moments since they’re my favorite sibling duo
tw: mentions of death, obviously
note: this is literally just ripped from violet harmon and kyle spencer’s story, minus the questionable bits and the manipulative witch-bitch trying to draw a gap between the pair. this is what i do—i steal scenarios from my favorite shows/movies and put my fictional crushes in those positions, and no one will ever stop me!!!!!
“Trust me, love, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I came up with the idea. I’m not too crazy about it either.”
A tailored suit, beautiful green eyes, moles like constellations. You couldn’t put a name to the face in front of yours, no matter how hard you tried to figure it out. You could hear his voice clearly, but none of the words made any sense to you. Who was this man, and why was he so determined to keep you chained to a bedpost? You were stuck kicking and frailing your legs out on the floor, hoping that you’d somehow manage to scramble out of your bindings, but nothing was working. One wrist was handcuffed to the post, and the other was limp and useless. You couldn’t even remember your name, so how on earth would you manage to uncuff yourself?
It hurt to be the one to have to see you so out of it—to have no other option but to restrain you from the freedom you deserved, but Five couldn’t risk losing you all over again. It wouldn’t exactly be easy to stop a zombie on the run, so this was the best cause of action. As for how the two of you got here: it all started with the timeline reset.
Allison reset the timeline and ran off from the rest of the family to be with Claire and Raymond, and everyone else immediately followed in her footsteps. They went their separate ways, used their powers to their advantage, and eventually became more focused on their personal lives than the likes of each other. In a way, it felt like things had gone back to the way they were before Reginald’s funeral. In Five’s case, he finally had the chance to live a normal life as an adult.
Well, as normal of a life as a CIA agent with the ability to jump through space and time could get.
Wake up, make coffee, go to work, get lunch, go home, go to sleep; repeat. The routine was nothing special, and that was the best part abount it. Realistically, it was everything he needed since he was a little boy trapped in the frightening world of rubble and decay. As an older man, Five was too focused on his career and figuring out the correct move to make in order to help himself feel less insecure about the staggering difference between his physical age and his conscience. Occasionally, he’d try out a new hairstyle that a colleague or a barber recommended, or a different flavor of coffee before complaining about the sweetness and going back to his longtime preference of pure black.
In short, most things didn’t catch his attention unless they had something to do with his job or a way to spice up his new life.
That was why he was so intrigued when he found you.
A coworker of his recommended a restaurant to him—an old-timey vintage-themed diner for grandparents to go to whenever they wanted to feel young again. It sounded a bit tacky via word of mouth, but it was worth a shot. He decided to visit the diner to see if it deserved all of the decent reviews he read online. They usually complimented the staff and gushed about how the decor made them reminiscent of their golden days. One thing was for sure, they certainly weren’t lying about the staff. Specifically you, you really know how to brighten his day.
It started off as a few sneaky glances and a petname slipping out once or twice whenever you took his order or brought him his food. He never outright made it clear that he was interested in you, and you didn’t either, but he went along with the hopes of you being smart enough to catch on. Luckily for him, you ended up accepting his offer when he asked you on a date. With that, came an established relationship, and then five years of a deep bond being forged with small and occasional fights sparking, resulting in a proposal.
The idea was for there to be cake and champagne and solitude, but instead there were sirens, wrecked car parts, and a death certificate. You never had the wedding—you didn’t even last a full month as Five’s fiancée. The one time he should’ve been there for you was when he wasn’t. On your way to work, you ended up getting hit by a day-drinker who’d lost control over their car, and it cost not just their life, but your life as well. Five was devistated, but not surprised. He was never one to have nice things for long, and he even managed to turn the situation around and blame himself for the crash. For not being able to turn back time when it mattered most.
Once again, liquor became his best friend. The nights following were spent in a bar, if not in bed with a tight hold around the pillow you used to lay your head on.
In a drunken suptor, the idea came to him: necromancy. There was no telling it would work, but getting his brother involved was the only way he could attempt to bring you back to life without possibly causing another problematic shift in the timline. So, much to his dismay, he went to Klaus for help and found himself breaking into a morgue to steal his soon-to-be-wife’s lifeless body back. As your corpse rotted in the confines of your shared home, Klaus prepared himself for the biggest challenge he’d faced in years: bringing his brother’s dead fiancée back to life.
Since this was a first-time occurrence, the boys overestimated Klaus’ potential and the attempt to save you ended up not going as originally planned. That was why you were now staring at your fiancé with empty eyes and a silenced brain after being locked in a bedroom all morning. You were reduced to pained groans and thick stitches where your body had been torn apart. None of this mattered to Five, though. At the end of the day, you were still his woman. No amount of scars and mindless drooling could change that.
“Did you get any sleep?” Five questioned politely, his thumb gently tracing over the grayed skin on your knuckles. Depsite the downside of the communication barrier, he continued to speak to you as if you could still understand the things coming out of his mouth. That was his way of making things seem normal when he knew that they were far from it. It was a coping mechanism.
“I sure as hell didn’t. But hey, that’s just life. Not much you can do about sleepless nights, right? Things just… come up and fuck with your brain, and…”
He trailed off, silently blinking while soaking up the sight of your uncomfortable exterior. You looked absolutely miserable.
“…You don’t hate me, do you?”
As expected, you didn’t answer him. You just sat there and stared back like the useless corpse you were. That awkward silence reminded him of the same he was used to receiving from Dolores, his previous plastic lover.
“I’ve finally lost it again, haven’t I?” The man deadpanned, letting out a held breath. That sigh was like an indirect admission to failure, and suddenly, he was in the apocalypse all over again with nothing but a mannequin and his self-loathing.
Bringing you back from the dead just for this to be your new way of life was wrong. From the reattached limbs, down to the inability to talk or think—this was no way to live. It would mostly be better to just put you back down so you could get the rest you deserved, but Five was too determined to fix what had been broken. He didn’t give up easily, and with you in the mix, he would spend the rest of eternity burning himself out if it meant that he’d be able to get you back to normal eventually.
“Shit.”
He reluctantly let go of your hand and began to sit up, watching you from the new distance he’d created. Your head sluggishly followed him, eyes piercing through his soul like he wasn’t the man who’d gotten down on one knee and promised a better life for you. He stopped in his tracks once a consideration came up. Suddenly, he was leaning into your personal space to stamp a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. “Be good, alright? I’m going to go talk to my brother for a moment.”
Your head dipped to the side curiously once he made his leave. You didn’t scream or cry for him, you just watched.
Five’s calm and collected attitude quickly melted as soon as he was at the front of the house, making a brisk move to the kitchen to get what have had to have been his tenth cup of coffee that afternoon alone. It was the key component to his sleepless night: coffee, power-walking around the house, and yelling at Klaus. The same Klaus who was asleep on the couch, frazzled from being the victim of Five’s wrath.
“Klaus, get up,” he demanded, watching the dark brown liquid fill the same mug he’d been using since yesterday morning. Five was met with silence, to which he countered by blinking beside Klaus in a swift blue light and pouring a light amount of the piping hot coffee onto the back of his shirt. He didn’t care for the stain it would leave on the couch; he’d deal with it later.
At that moment, a fearful and confused man was awoken from his slumber. “What the—shit, Five!”
“Did I stutter? Get up!”
With the time-traveler being in his twenties a second time, puberty was no longer an excuse for his bad behavior—not that he needed one. Every reaction was justified, and now that his wife was mentally unsound, he felt like he was right back at square one—yelling at everyone while being stuck in the same outfit for days on end because he was too stressed and depressed to change. And although he could see failure on the horizon as soon as he considered working with his brother, he was still convinced that taking his anger out on Klaus would help him feel somewhat relieved.
It didn’t.
Klaus rose up from the couch cushions and Five blinked back to his original spot behind the kitchen counter. “There’s no time for sleeping when my wife is struggling to recite the alphabet, so get your shit together and help me.”
“Have you taken the time to stop and consider that taking your anger out on me might only hinder the process?”
“As a matter of fact, Klaus, no. I haven’t, because I have bigger things to worry about than your feelings.”
Five Hargreeves loved his siblings. He went back in time and saved the world from total damnation for them. But, by god, did they annoy the everlasting hell out of him sometimes. This was your life they were playing with, and if things somehow managed to get worse, Klaus would be the first to hear about it. They were his powers, and now that you were back as some sort of ghoul rather than the kind, caring woman Five fell in love with, he wasn’t getting out of this until the issue was fixed. No matter how many beatings or insults Five forced him to take, they were in it together.
Who did Klaus think he was to request coddling at a time like this?
“Look, you’ve been here all night,” Five drawled, his hands shaking from the caffeine, “and you have done nothing but be utterly useless!”
Klaus brought a hand up to his chest as if he had been shot. “I resurrected her from the dead, Five; what more do you want from me?”
“I wanted her back, not a braindead copy!”
“And I understand that.” Klaus could relate to Five to an extent after dealing with the horrors of his own relationships, like the grief that came with having a lover taken away. As much as he desired to be the one to help Five avoid going through the same pain that he went through with the loss of Dave, he wasn’t well adjusted to the power-up. Sure, he could commune with the dead—share words and allow them to possess his body and whatnot—but physically bringing them back from the dead? That was a whole new level for him.
“But you have to consider my perspective, sweet brother o’ mine. I wasn’t aware of this power until you asked me to try it on her.” Five scoffed and rolled his eyes as he took a sip from his mug.
“Give me a break, Klaus. You made it seem like you knew what you were doing, but I guess this is the price I have to pay for believing an idiot like you would have things under control for once.”
The taller man let out a disappointed sigh and stepped over to him with a childish pout. “You know who you’re starting to sound like?”
“Don’t,” Five warned, glaring up at his brother.
“You can’t really deny it, can you?”
“Get out of my house.”
“I thought you wanted me to—”
“I changed my mind.”
“Alright, alright. Jesus, don’t get your boxers in a bunch.” Klaus grabbed his shoulders and kept them in a firm hold, but a squeeze of reassurance wouldn’t be enough to calm him down. He could see the crazy in his eyes—the same look he got when he was under the influence of paradox psychosis. “Instead of bashing me for hours on end, how about you let me take over? You can get some sleep, and I will re-teach her the basics.”
“Nope.” Five shook his head and disagreed without putting much thought into it. “I don’t trust you enough to be alone with her. I’ll watch from a distance.”
Klaus gave his shoulder a lighthearted pat. “Well, it’s your migraine.”
“Hey, actually,” he pulled away and leaned his back against the edge of the counter, going through the mail laid out on the surface, “why don’t you just set her down in the corner and let her play on one of those learning websites people throw their kids on?”
Five quickly snatched the collection of bills and newsletters away from him, tucking them into a nearby drawer for safekeeping. He huffed tiredly. “I don’t have children; I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Five could barely operate all the functions on his phone. To think he’d consider something like that was a little ridiculous, especially since growing up as a Hargreeves consisted of endless training, city-saving—and in Five’s case, surviving alone in a wasteland—not playing with toys and video games. He didn’t have good childhood memories to go off of, which deemed the entire situation even more difficult than it needed to be. Furthermore, the idea of having to treat your significant other as if they were a child was far from appealing.
“Right,” he recalled, “well, it’s a good thing your favorite brother is here to assist you, isn’t it?” As expected, Five was unamused.
“Where’s your laptop?” Klaus questioned as he glanced around the room. Five placed his mug down and brushed his hair to the side, preparing to venture off into his office.
“I’ll get it,” he announced. “Give me a second.”
“Ditto.”
The sound of Five’s footsteps lowering down the hallway were all Klaus had to go off of. To him, everything was fine and Five was finally being compliant, making his job a lot easier for him. But for Five, everything was quickly starting to fall apart all over again.
“Shit!” Five cursed and rushed back to the kitchen.
Klaus’ head snapped towards him. “What happened?”
“She ran out the back door!”
“I thought you cuffed her to the bed?”
“She got out somehow!”
“I’ll admit it, I should’ve asked if you were hungry before I left.” You let out an unpleased groan in response to the washcloth Five was using to wipe your face clean of the blood you’d gotten on the lower half of your face. “You know, y/n, your hunger doesn’t give you the right to chase after people’s pets.”
He never expected to be in a situation where he’d have to explain that to someone, let alone his partner, but after you escaped the house and terrorized the neighborhood cats strolling around the block, it was clear that a stern talking to was needed. He could only hope that no one had seen you munching on the animals before he and Klaus found you.
This was a good lesson for future reference: handcuffs aren’t always the solution.
“You smell like death.”
The stained washcloth was set the the side and his attention was now on the buttoned-up coat he’d covered you in when your body was sewn back together. It was his own, one he used during harsh winters, and it was big enough to cover the areas you wouldn’t want others to see if you were in your right mind. With the faucet in the bathtub running warm water behind him, the coat was no longer necessary, so he reached out, careful not to scare you, and unbuttoned it. When it dropped to the floor, he pulled your arm over his shoulders and tried to carry you over to the tub.
“Careful,” he warned softly. The affirmation was mostly for himself. He was horrified of dropping you and worsening your condition, but since you tired yourself out from your hunt for an early dinner, there was less squirming and resistance. You were limp in his arms, much like a ragdoll.
A bit of guidance was enough to get you in the tub. You seemed so enamored by the soap suds and bubbles that you didn’t even fight for an out of the water like a dog would. When Five switched the faucet off, your head snapped up in surprise.
“Did that startle you?” He questioned. “Sorry, honey.”
You felt a hand run down your back, giving you the ability to unwind after the sudden shock of the water turning off. With that, Five grabbed to towel off the floor and dipped it into the soap-stew. Once the towel was on your skin, the suds multiplied, and you watched quietly. Then, you looked at him, and he looked back. He felt even guiltier every time you made eye contact with him, but he tried to seem unbothered by your intimidating presence.
He swallowed hard and continued to wipe you down, continuing his soft spew of words without having the ability to smile about the situation. “Hey.”
“It’s me,” Five insisted. “You still don’t remember me, huh?”
Silence. “Maybe it’s for the best.”
Being forced to sit in your quietness was as comfortable as being held at gunpoint. Every second he would remind himself of the moments he’d taken for granted, the arguments he would cause, the good nights that didn’t last long enough—he wanted it all back, no matter the circumstances. As much as Five didn’t want to admit it, you were flustering him. He appeared to be the weakest link in comparison to you, and with the insecurity came the paranoia.
He never deserved you. He was a killer, an asshole, and a screw-up. You were far from that. You had so much more potential for big things, and now you couldn’t even remember your dreams and aspirations. What were you good for now? More importantly, what was he good for? Because time-travel and keeping his women in safe hands weren’t anywhere on the list.
“I’ll wait for you,” he affirmed. “I’ll be patient. You can take all the time you need to readjust, because this is all my fault. I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted my lady back.”
He let out a nervous breath, allowing his shoulders to drop as he continued to wash the grime from your body. “I’ll always love you, regardless of how you look. I hope you know that.”
He shook his head. “I just… usually I’m able to plan ahead, but… I’m lost.”
You glanced down at a bubble that had popped near your arm.
“I don’t know how you function now. I mean, before all of this, I was considering asking you whether or not you’d eventually want to have—”
He suddenly stopped, feeling even less confident about what he had to say. Especially since you weren’t even looking at him, so he could only assume that you weren’t listening.
“…Never mind,” Five hesitated. “The point is that I’m trying my best to find a proper way to go about this, but it’s not going anywhere. But I won’t either; I promise.”
He gently turned your head by your chin, forcing you to look at him again.
“I promise,” he reiterated. “You hear me in there?”
You squinted your eyes, remaining unresponsive. That was the perfect piece of evidence to show that he was never going to get to you anytime soon. It was breaking him, but he had an exceptional poker face. Instead of swearing and going on an annoyed tangent, he gave you a strained smile. “Good enough.”
There wasn’t more he could ask from you, so he was going to take what he could get and keep a distance from complaints. He was making himself talk to a brick wall with a pretty face.
“You could at least yell at me,” Five suggested while lathering the towel in a decent amount of soap. “Go ahead, speak total gibberish—I don’t care. I just want to hear your voice.”
“Or you could fight me again,” he added, referring to the struggle he and Klaus went through to get you to cooperate within the first hour of your resurrection. “Kick me in the balls like you did with Klaus. I probably deserve it, anyway.”
He didn’t care if you ripped his hair out, broke his wrist, or slit his throat open. He just wanted to feel something from you. Anything. There was a tight sensation in his chest, a sensation that worsened whenever he so little as glanced at you from the corner of his eye; the same feeling he got when he was thrown into the apocalypse. He desperately wanted nothing more but to override it with the pain that came from your punches.
“I’m so sorry I did this to you,” he whispered while glancing away, not wanting to linger in your gaze for any longer.
The remaining minutes of the wash up was left in a wretched state of stillness, aside from the splashes of water and miniature bubbles fizzing like pop rocks. In the moment, the worst managed to bite back at him. All of Reginald’s words of discouragement, The Handler’s disappointment with him. As much as he didn’t want to believe them, they were both right in the end.
Go figure.
When your soak finally came to an end and the water was drained from the tub, he managed to pull you out and wrap a towel around your body.
“Look at you.” He held you from behind, giving you a clear view of yourself in the mirror. You still looked rough, somewhat like a drowned rat, but you were clean now. “Just as beautiful as you were before.”
He pressed a kiss against your cheek and ran a hand through your hair, preparing to fix it into a protective style. He learned a little from the few times he watched you do your hair, and while Five wasn’t a perfect person, he was a quick learner.
“Let’s get you ready for bed.”
The soft whirring coming from the ceiling fan hogged your attention. That was good, it gave Five time to clean up around the house and walk Klaus out for the night. With the crash he was receiving from his caffeine intake, it was safe to say that tonight would be one of the rare instances where he would get a semi-decent amount shut-eye since the accident. Once he finished up, he trudged over to the bed and lowered down beside you.
His line of sight went up to the ceiling fan, then back down to you.
“You’re really invested in that thing.” He would be smiling if the circumstances weren’t so depressing.
Five looked like he had spent the evening trapped in a tornado. His eyes drooped with fatigue, and he could see your own pair doing the same. You couldn’t watch the fan spin forever. Sometime soon, you’d get bored of it and fall asleep.
Sometime soon, you might get bored of him and venture off. His teeth clenched at the thought. He brushed it off.
“Tomorrow, we’ll try to work out the kinks in your brain. Hopefully Klaus’ suggestions don’t end up being futile.” If that were the case, he’d probably just have to give up on going to him for advice altogether. Not to make it seem like that was a common occurrence, because it wasn’t. The only instance of said situation was when he was too intoxicated to catch himself opening up about his issues.
“If that doesn’t go well, then I’ll start making lesson plans,” he explained. “If I’m not busy, that is. I still have a job, as much as I’d rather stay with you all day. I’ll have to get someone to watch you.”
Five skimmed through the mental notes he made in relation to his family and immediately regretted coming to the conclusion. None of them were reliable figures for wife-watching. Viktor was in Canada, so he was off the table; Diego and Lila already had children running around their home, Allison was rarely ever at her house since she was working so much, Klaus was a maniac, Ben was in jail, and Luther was an idiot. Though, his strength would come in handy for keeping you in your place.
Five let out an unenthusiastic huff. “If it comes down to it, I’ll have to ask Luther to babysit you.”
It wouldn’t be much of a hassle, but it would be mildly irritating since Five enjoyed having his privacy. He spoke to his siblings at least once a month or so. They usually only saw him at family gatherings, like birthdays or New Year’s Eve parties. He showed up less for the socializing and more for the free alcohol. The wedding would have been one instance where he pushed himself through a full night of bickering and teasing from his family.
As bothersome as they could be, it would’ve been worth it just to see you having fun and getting along with them. It was still your night as much as it was his own, and the last thing he wanted was to rain on the parade you were excited for.
“That’ll be… something.”
He turned to rest his head on your chest and the lack of a heartbeat immediately stood out to him. It seemed slightly eerie now that he was resting against you. Listening to your heartbeat—that was one of the best parts of laying on you. The sound soothed him after a long day at work, it reminded him that he had a human being waiting for him at home. He loved hearing it. You were everything he didn’t have whenever he craved love and reassurance in the apocalypse.
The back-rubbing, hair-combing, forehead kisses. He couldn’t get any of that anymore, but he would feel selfish to whine about the loss of affection.
He should really learn how to shut his brain off sometimes.
Despite having you in his arms already, there was an underlying fear of you breaking free and running away for good. Maybe you didn’t love him anymore; maybe he scared you. Those reasons simply gave him more motivation to hold you tight. One of his hands treaded over to your own, forcing you into a hand-hold. You didn’t fight him off.
You were drifting asleep.
“I love you, y/n,” Five swore, giving your hand a loving squeeze. Your rings clinked from the pressure. “I’ll get you back. Somehow.”
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