Number Five Imagines

The Best Coffee

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: Hey Today I'm posting a little one shot because I won't be able to do it tomorrow. Have a nice day

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves had a particular fondness for black coffee. He appreciated its bold, unadulterated flavor and the jolt of energy it provided. Throughout his life, he had tasted coffee from countless places—the Commission's break room, quaint coffee shops, even high-end cafes. Yet, none of these ever matched the coffee his wife Y/n made every morning.

One crisp morning, Five sat at the kitchen table, watching Y/n move gracefully around their cozy kitchen. She was humming softly, her movements fluid and practiced. She reached for the coffee beans, grinding them with care, then set the kettle to boil. The familiar, comforting aroma began to fill the room, making Five's heart swell with anticipation.

Y/n poured the freshly ground coffee into the French press, letting it steep for just the right amount of time. As she pushed down the plunger, Five could almost taste the rich, dark liquid. She poured a steaming cup and brought it over to him, a warm smile on her face.

"Here you go, Five. Just the way you like it," she said, placing the cup in front of him.

Five took the cup, inhaling deeply before taking his first sip. The flavor was perfect—bold, smooth, and just the right temperature. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment. "This is amazing, Y/n. I don't know how you do it, but your coffee is always the best."

Y/n laughed softly, sitting down beside him with her own cup. "It's just coffee, Five. I think you might be a little biased."

Five shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "No, seriously. I've had coffee from everywhere, but nothing comes close to yours. You put something special in it."

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh really? And what might that be?"

He leaned in, his expression turning tender. "Love. You make it with love, Y/n. And that makes all the difference."

Y/n's cheeks flushed a delicate pink as she reached out to hold his hand. "You're such a sweet talker, Five. But I guess it does help that I love making it for you."

As they sat there, enjoying their coffee and each other's company, Five thought back to all the mornings they'd shared this simple ritual. It wasn't just about the coffee itself, but the love and care Y/n put into making it. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to him.

One day, after a particularly grueling mission, Five found himself in a fancy café, hoping a good cup of coffee would help clear his mind. He ordered his usual black coffee and took a seat by the window. As he took his first sip, he was reminded of Y/n's coffee. The café's brew was good, perhaps even excellent by most standards, but it lacked the warmth and comfort he craved.

He realized that it wasn't the quality of the beans or the brewing method that made Y/n's coffee the best. It was the way she made it just for him, with love and thoughtfulness. Each cup was a reminder of their bond, their shared mornings, and the life they were building together.

When Five returned home that evening, Y/n was already in the kitchen, preparing for the next day. He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing a gentle kiss to her neck.

"Hey, you," she said, smiling as she turned to face him. "How was your day?"

"Long," he replied, resting his forehead against hers. "But I'm home now. And I could really use one of your coffees."

Y/n chuckled, kissing him softly. "I'll make you the best cup you've ever had."

As she started the familiar routine, Five watched her, feeling a deep sense of contentment. No matter where he went or what he faced, he knew he had a home in Y/n, and that every morning would begin with the best coffee in the world, made by the woman he loved.

And that, he thought as he took the first sip of her latest creation, was something truly irreplaceable.