You will dive deep into the life of Five Hargreeves, exploring scenarios where you are his partner in crime, confidante, and love interest. Each short Story offers a unique glimpse into different aspects of Five's multifaceted personality-his wit, h...
A/N: And finally y/n is here. Sorry but in my stories there is no Five without y/n :)
Warnings: none
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Max sat at his desk in the precinct, staring blankly at the wall. His latest case—a tangled mess of conspiracies and missing persons—was taxing, but his mind was elsewhere. Scattered papers lay across the desk, many of them unrelated to the investigation. Scribbled notes filled with names, fragmented memories, and faint sketches of faces stared back at him.
"Still on that mystery project of yours?"
Max glanced up to see Y/n leaning against the doorframe, a cup of coffee in her hand. Her hair framed her face, and her teasing smile made his heart lighten, even on his worst days.
"Just a hobby," Max replied with a faint smirk, quickly gathering the papers and stacking them neatly. "Keeps me busy."
Y/n stepped inside, setting the coffee on his desk. "You're always busy, Max. When's the last time you did something fun? You know, something normal?"
"I don't do normal well," Max quipped.
Y/n rolled her eyes, pulling a chair over to sit across from him. "That's an understatement. Come on, talk to me. What's been eating at you lately? You've been more... distracted than usual."
Max hesitated, his fingers tapping against the desk. All his life, he had kept the flashes to himself, dismissing them as remnants of vivid dreams or his mind playing tricks. But Y/n wasn't just his assistant; she was his closest friend—and maybe more.
"I've been having these... memories," Max admitted, his voice quieter than usual.
"Memories?" Y/n tilted her head. "Like from childhood?"
"No." He leaned back, rubbing his temples. "They're not mine. Or at least, they don't feel like mine. It's hard to explain."
"Try me," Y/n said gently, her voice devoid of the usual playfulness.
Max met her gaze, and something about her unwavering patience made him spill everything. He told her about the names—Luther, Klaus, Diego, and the others. About the strange, impossible scenes that played out in his mind: a young boy stands in front of a destroyed home, corpses of people who look familiar to him, a mannequin.
When he finished, Y/n's expression was unreadable. She folded her hands in her lap, her eyes scanning his face as if trying to decide whether he was serious.
"So, you think you're remembering a past life?" she asked finally.
Max gave a small shrug. "It sounds crazy. I know it does. But it feels real, Y/n. I've spent years trying to ignore it, but I can't anymore. It's like... like I'm missing a part of myself. A part I can't find."
Y/n leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. "Do you remember their faces? Your... siblings?"
"Some," Max admitted. "There's this one guy, Luther. Big guy. Kind of... sweet, I think. And another—Diego—always had this intense vibe, like he was ready to fight anyone. And then there's Klaus." He paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Klaus was a mess, but in a good way."
"And you?" Y/n asked softly.
"What about me?"
"You keep talking about them, but who were you in this past life?"
Max hesitated. "I don't know everything, but I think my name was Five. That's all I can remember—just 'Five.' " He let out a dry laugh. "Kind of fitting, huh? I'm still just a number."
Y/n reached out and placed her hand over his. "You're not just a number, Max. And you're not crazy either."
"You believe me?" he asked, surprised.
"I believe you," she said firmly. "If you say these memories are real, then they're real. And if these people are out there, maybe it's time we find them."
Max blinked, startled by her conviction. "You're serious?"
"Dead serious," Y/n replied, standing up. "You've been chasing ghosts long enough. Let's turn them into something tangible."
The next few weeks were a blur of research and late-night discussions. Max and Y/n worked side by side, scouring databases, making calls, and chasing leads.
One night, as they sat in Max's apartment surrounded by a mountain of files, Y/n nudged him with her elbow.
"You've been awfully quiet," she said, raising an eyebrow. "What's going on in that big brain of yours?"
"I'm just thinking," Max said, running a hand through his hair. "What if I'm wrong? What if I drag you into this wild goose chase, and we come up empty?"
Y/n smirked. "Then we'll have some great stories to tell. But I don't think we'll come up empty, Max. I've seen the way you light up when you talk about them. You know they're out there. We just have to find them."
Max looked at her, a small smile breaking through his usual stoicism. "You're stubborn, you know that?"
"Takes one to know one," Y/n shot back, tossing a file at him.
He caught it easily, flipping it open. Inside was a photo of a man with long hair and a wide grin standing in front of a sign that read Klaus's Yoga Studio.
"Looks like we've got our first lead," Y/n said.
Max stared at the photo, his heart pounding. For the first time in years, the emptiness inside him felt a little less overwhelming.
