#pretty t'd off about it ngl

[dadsbongos]

Mommy Issues

Movie/Game/Show: Umbrella Academy Dynamic: Five Hargreeves/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: you’re a mom of two, maybe might be sad? Summary: Five has to pay a visit to the old lady. ~~~

“Come on,” she held out the can of beans, shaking it around slightly when the boy refused, “You have to eat, Five.”

He shook his head, continuing to mark up the book in his hands, “Too busy.”

“You’re never too busy to fucking eat,” (Y/n) huffed, grabbing the book from his hands and replacing it with the can of beans, “It’ll all be here when you’re done.”

Five pursed his lips but decided to not argue with the woman, “You’re lucky you’re the only person left in this hellhole.”

“How so?” (Y/n) crossed her arms, desperately attempting to hide her starvation, “I get to take care of a little boy?”

“I’m not a little boy, first of all. I’m thirteen, technically a teenager.”

The woman snickered, “What’s your second point?”

Humming through his chewing, Five quirked a brow, gesturing for her to continue.

“You said ‘first of all’,” she shrugged, reaching for the bottle of wine settled amongst the rubble of an old library, “Did you have a second point to bring up?”

When the boy didn’t respond, (Y/n) quietly laughed before looking at the book Five was so focused on since he found it. Extra Ordinary by Vanya Hargreeves, her brows furrowed as she picked it up and began flipping through it. Five nearly choked on his beans, “Careful with that.”

“I will be,” she calmly replied, tone softening at the shared surname between the two, “Was she your mom?”

Five shook his head, taking the book back, “Sister.”

“I’m sorry you have to go through this,” (Y/n) forced on a smile, reaching into her tattered pants’ pocket, “If it’s any consolation, I lost some people too.”

Just as he went to retort, a picture of two children was forced into his hand. A boy his age and a much younger girl, and suddenly he regretted every time he mockingly called her mom. Her sad smile was still painted on her lips as realization sunk its claws into Five, “Your kids?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, sitting up straight, “I took all the pictures in the house before packing up.”

“Since we’re learning about each other,” he held out Vanya’s book, “I think you should read this.”

(Y/n) nodded, opening up to the first page, “If you want, for whatever weird reason is in your genius brain, you can keep the picture. I have a lot.”

“Thanks,” he pressed the photo into his blazer pocket, “you can’t keep the book. I want that back when you’re done and don’t write in it.”

“Naturally.”

Silence broke over the pair until (Y/n) spoke again, much quieter than before.

“What?”

“Stop zoning out, creeper,” she ruffled his hair.

“Don’t baby me, (Y/n),” the thirteen-year-old boy snapped, still clutching his mannequin companion to his scrawny body.

In response, the woman rolled her eyes, “I’ll baby you all I want, Five, because in case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a wasteland and I’m the only adult alive.”

“So far,” the boy glared, “There could be some lonely Australian man across the ocean and we have no clue.”

She shook her head, “Well until we find him, I’m still going to baby you - because that’s what you are to me. A little baby in need of mothering.”

Five grumbled under his breath, “You’re more annoying than anything else at this point.”

(Y/n) didn’t verbally reply, only pulling up the scarf acting as the boy’s mask before continuing down the road. She turned when Five didn’t follow, nudging her head down the way, “Come on, I think there's a wagon we could find to carry supplies!”

A wagon there was, but only one. At least at that point. The grown woman huffed while looking around, “Put Dolores in, you’re rolling the thing with you.”

“What?” Five looked up at her, “But you’re the adult, aren’t you?”

“Which means I get to tell you to roll it around.”

The wagon would go to him then. The boy.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Five’s brows furrowed as he walked, lugging the dirtied thing behind him, “What are you talking about now, (Y/n)?”

She simply stared at him, a blank, empty stare, “What are you thinking about?”

Her eyes made him nervous now, they were devoid of any kindness and warmth they usually held when looking at him. Less like a loving mother-figure and more like the mannequin he held close at night. But even Dolores smiled every so often.

“Five!” she suddenly shouted, no longer walking. She rushed over, grabbing his shoulders, “Five!”

There were no hands on his shoulders, just the old, wrinkled one between his own hands. He blinked a few times, shaking his head before looking down to the elderly woman on the floor, “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“As spacey as ever,” (Y/n) chuckled dryly, coughing a few times between the laughter, “I asked what you were thinking about.”

“Oh, nothing much,” he lied easily enough, “Just how much I’ll enjoy you not bossing me around.”

The dying woman shook her head, using what little strength she had to smack his arm, “You’ve been a rude little boy since we met.”

“Well,” he shrugged, letting a soft silence fill the heated air, rubbing his thumb over the weathered bones in this old woman’s hand, “What about you? What are you thinking about?”

“My kids,” she smiled faintly, “I’m excited to see them again.”

Little Joan and Lacy, he’d heard about them countless times. Joan was about his age when the pair first met after the Apocalypse, dark hair and light eyes with freckles spread across his cheeks. Lacy was on the younger scale with little curls sprouting from her head and brown eyes like honey pots with a birthmark right on her forehead. Adorable kids, from what few pictures survived the fall of humanity.

“I wish I could’ve met them,” he grinned down at the faint woman.

(Y/n) nodded weakly, eyes fluttering shut every now and again, “You three would’ve been so cute together. Them trying to make you smile and you just being grumpy; like something out of a sitcom.”

Five’s eyebrows rose at the sentence, “Now I’m not so sure.”

“Stop,” she wheezed, patting at her chest, “You would’ve loved them…” it was quiet for a few more moments, “I’m worried about you too, you know? Being all alone after so long, I don’t want you to go completely crazy.”

“I won’t be alone,” he attempted to reassure, nodding towards their plastic friend, “I have Dolores, don’t I?”

“God, don’t get me started on that…”

“I really will be fine,” he gripped her hand a little tighter, “Don’t be worrying about me, I can handle myself, old lady.”

“One day you’ll be an old man, and then who’ll be laughing? Me, from the afterlife.”

Five wouldn’t admit it, but the thought of (Y/n) still being somewhat around comforted him, “I’ll be counting on it.”

“Better be.”

. . .

Five rubbed at his temples, stopping the Apocalypse built up a headache worse than surviving it. He pushed the doors to Griddy’s open, not having had one of their coffees since his first night into the present. He slid onto a stool at the counter, giving Agnes a nod when she waved at him.

Agnes went into the back and after a few murmurs, he assumed a new waitress would be serving him.

Looking to the right, two familiar faces came into view. His eyes widened, hands fumbling for the photo in his blazer pocket. After (Y/n) died he made a habit of keeping it around; felt wrong to go without it. He looked between the picture to the children.

The doors from the back opened up and a painfully familiar woman stepped through. She smiled at two kids, ruffling the boy’s dark hair and pinching at the girl’s cheek before going over to Five. 

(Y/n) shot him a grin, pulling a pad of paper from her uniform, “What can I get you today?”

Five didn’t answer immediately, stare fixated on the living, breathing, not-dead woman in front of him. Unlike in their years together, her skin was less dirt-covered, hands less crusted in ash and soil, hair more well-kept. She seemed healthy, happy. After realizing he was staring for far too long, he cleared his throat, pocketing the photo, “Sorry, I’ll have a coffee. Black.” 

“No donuts?” she teased, “I know they’re not top-of-the-line, but I never miss an opportunity to snag a few for my kids,” she pointed her pen in the kids’ direction.

“Well, I suppose I could get…” he looked over the menu before continuing, “a lemon jelly donut.”

(Y/n) wrote down the order, “Funny, that’s my son’s favorite.”

“What a coincidence,” of course, he knew that. He knew it fifty times over.

Nodding, she tore off the paper before walking towards the back, stopping at the two kids. The tiny glances from both child in his direction made it obvious he had been mentioned. Giving Joan and Lacy each a kiss on the forehead, (Y/n) made her way to the back kitchen.

Lacy looked between her older brother and the strange boy before getting down from her stool and skipping over to the brunette. She gave him a broad, pearly smile, “Hi.”

Five smiled slightly, turning in his seat to look at the girl properly, “Hello.”

Joan followed after his sister, smiling apologetically to the boy about his age while taking the girl’s hand, “I’m sorry about her.”

“No, she’s fine,” he waved off the other boy’s sympathies, “She's pretty adorable.”

(Y/n) returned from the back, carefully setting down the steaming coffee followed by Five’s donut, “Hope my kids aren’t bothering you. They like making friends with the customers.”

He shook his head, “Not a problem.”

Joan slid onto the stool beside Five, holding his baby sister in his lap, “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

Five nodded slowly, wrapping both hands around his warm cup, already feeling his headache begin to dissipate, “I used to come here a lot when I was younger.”