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𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏

chapter three. series masterlist. main masterlist.

five hargreeves x reader

work count: 3.2k

book summary: five hargreeves gets lost in time and your father forces you to go after him, leaving you to get lost in a completely different kind of solitude. after decades, you meet at the hands of the handler, except you're not exactly happy to work with him after what he did. the two of you agree to put your differences aside until you save the world. how hard could that be?

author's note: i'm finally getting into a rhythm with this story, three chapters in less than a week?? couldn't be me omg, though i did write this all in one day on the floor of my hotel lmao. not proofread or edited, please interact and i hope you enjoy!

There are two different kinds of people who attend family reunions:

One that doesn’t start any conversation and holds an approachable aura, and one that starts making a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich.

Five and Eight ignored their family as they stepped between them, making their way into the academy, leaving the adults puzzled and questioning what they just witnessed. The cuffs of their once neatly ironed and perfectly fitting pants were caught beneath their shoes, dragging mud onto the kitchen floors which Grace would eventually have to mop up.

Eight pulled a wooden chair out from under the table, folding her hands together on the tabletop, waiting for her family to file into the kitchen and start bombarding them with questions.

Of course she was happy to see them, she had missed them so much, but she found it hard to comprehend that they had all grown up without her. Feelings of anger arose in her for the thousandth time.

She hated Five for what he did.

She hated Reginald for everything he’s ever done.

Her fingernails had been digging into her skin. The screeching of her siblings wet shoes on the floor only irritated her further, her inner voice screaming for this dreadful conversation to commence.

The adults finally congregated in the kitchen, with Klaus sitting criss-crossed on top of the table. They all wore their funeral attire, yet Diego looked like a low budget vigilante.

Five opened up the cupboards lining the walls of the kitchen looking for the necessary items for his sandwich.

“What’s the date?” He asked as he set down a wooden cutting board and knife onto the table, “The exact date.”

“The 24th,” Vanya responded.

“Of what?”

“March.”

Five quickly calculated how many days they had in his head. They had just enough time.

“Good.”

Luther was fed up with Five’s lack of urgency to explain himself and sandwich making as he instigated, “So, are we gonna talk about what just happened?” All of the adults stared at Five waiting for an answer, expecting him to be the one to explain everything in his usual dismissive tone.

Yet, he didn’t comment.

He never looked up from the bread on the cutting board, prompting Luther to stand up with anger and say, “It’s been seventeen years.”

“It’s been a lot longer than that.”

The siblings all turned their heads to Eight, not expecting the statement to have come from her. The scoff however, they did expect.

Suddenly, they jumped. The whoosh of Five’s blink that they hadn’t heard in years snapped their attention back to him.

“I haven’t missed that,” Luther commented under his breath.

“Where’d you go?” Diego asked as Five reached for the marshmallows above the cabinets, knowing that was exactly where Grace would hide them.

“The future,” he answered as he blinked back to the end of the table, “It’s shit by the way.”

“Called it!” Klaus remarked, playing with Eight’s braid as she sat there bothered.

“I should’ve listened to the old man,” Five sighed, reaching into the fridge, “He knew. Jumping through space is one thing, jumping through time is a toss of the dice.”

Five twisted open the jar of peanut butter and placed it in front of Eight. She glared at him. The smell of peanuts burned her eyes. She glared at him. Did he seriously credit Reginald for trying to warn him that day? Did he forget she went out of her way to try and stop him, she didn’t have to but she did. It’s not her fault he never listened to her but she was still right.

Eight zoned out as Five complimented Klaus’s dress and continued to belittle the intelligence of their siblings.

She didn’t want to listen any longer. She couldn’t bear the smell burning her nose, triggering her allergies. She couldn’t bear the wet clothes and drying mud on her skin. She couldn’t bear Klaus gently slapping her in the face with her braids.

Only Klaus noticed as she disappeared into thin air, holding his hands out into the space where she once was. She had slipped through the dark shadow under the table and reappeared just outside the kitchen. The walls of the academy looked just as they did all those years ago. Climbing up the stairs slowly, Eight braced herself for the possibility she would bump into Pogo or Grace. Not that she was avoiding them, she just wanted to freshen up before their proper reunion.

As she was making her way to her room, she traced along the cartoonish depictions of defensive plastered along the walls. She hesitated slightly before turning the doorknob into her old bedroom.

There was no overhead light and her curtains were still drawn blocking the sun, so she left the door open a bit to let enough light in to look around. Her walls were black, absorbing as much light as possible. Books littered the floor in stacks, her bookshelves were filled to the max, unable to hold more literature.

There were several candles around the room, as well as glass dishes filled with crystals, and ashtrays for incense. Grace was always worried the girl would burn the academy down one day, whether that was just her maternal instincts or her robotic programming, Eight never knew.

She assumed there would be dust on everything, or maybe a few things would be sold or donated, but no. Everything was exactly how she kept it 16 years ago. Grace must have done some regular cleaning because everything was spotless. She wondered about how lonely she must have been. With her kids grown up and living their own lives.

Eight had always wondered what her family had grown to be like without her. What happened to the academy after it had lost two members. Five had mentioned finding a book that Vanya had written in the apocalypse. He didn’t go into much detail, only saying she had revealed many family secrets, as well as the fact that Ben was dead.

Ben.

She turned away from him as soon as he said it. Tears actually filled her eyes, and she couldn’t let him see that. Ben was her favorite sibling. The only person who she was comfortable sitting in silence with. They didn’t need casual conversation to fill their time together, they could simply sit with each other and read for hours. She never found out how it happened, and she never wanted to know.

She went to close her door so she could change, and on the mirror that hung from it, she noticed a tear had snuck past her emotional walls and run down her cheek. It was gone in a second and she frowned and swiped it away. She locked the door and began to change into a clean uniform.

Once she was fully changed and the dirty suit sat in a pile in the corner of her room, she walked over to the mirror to fix her tie before a blue light flashed in front of her. She jumped back slightly, even though she knew exactly who was intruding.

Already changed into a clean uniform himself, Five stood before her, blocking the mirror. She shoved him aside so she could see herself and he moved to sit on her bed.

“How much did you tell them?” Eight asked as she quickly did her tie. She could see Five looking around in the reflection of the mirror.

“Enough for now,” he replied.

He pulled out a prosthetic eyeball from his pocket. He had always brought up his concerns surrounding it, stating he believed whosoever eye it was would be the cause of the end of the world.

“How are we gonna go about this?” Eight questioned, turning to face Five who stared at the eyeball as he turned it in his hand.

“We start by attending our father’s funeral.” He sighed, placing the eye back in his pocket.

She looked around for her dress shoes that went with her uniform, then she remembered she kept them underneath her bed to make space for more books. She knelt down on the floor and reached her arm under the comforter but couldn’t feel them. Lifting the blanket, she peaked her head under till she could see the leather shoes.

Half her body was under the bed as she reached for them, until she felt a shoe on her hip, shoving her over. She heard a snicker and footsteps walking out the door.

“Dick,” she grumbled as she retrieved her shoes and shuffled backward until she was free from the dark. She tugged her leather shoes on and made her way downstairs into the living room where she found Five and Vanya.

She didn’t pay attention to their conversation. What she did notice was the very visible portrait of Five that hung in the center of the room that definitely wasn’t there before.

How come he got a painting made specially in his honor when he was the idiot who ran off. If anything, Eight deserved a painting for unfortunately being lost in a noble sacrifice to help find him. Her look of disgust must’ve given her away, as Five came up to her and whispered, “Jealous much?”

She glared and looked up at him, “Not when I burn it.”

She hadn’t noticed that Vanya was no longer standing there, having already left to head outside for the funeral. The two teens made their way outside as well, forgoing the umbrellas, even though they had just changed into clean dry clothes.

The funeral went exactly as one would’ve guessed it. Diego spoke out about how monstrous Reginald was, Luther obviously disagreed, and the two fought like toddlers over a crayon. Eight watched the scene, swatting Klaus’s hand away as he tried to move her further from the violence. It was a mess of disrespect all around, especially since the boys knocked over the statue in Ben’s remembrance during the brawl.

Eight scowled at this, she turned around and walked right back inside with Five following suit.

Reginald deserved nothing. No kind words, no remembrance, nothing. What he deserved was someone to stick a cigarette in his muddy ashes. And that’s exactly what he got.

~~~

After the funeral, everyone had pretty much decided there was no point in staying at the academy. Vanya had already called a taxi and booked it, feeling just as unwelcome as she did when she was thirteen, although Pogo’s kind words did make her feel a bit at home.

Klaus had propped his bare feet up on the kitchen table while strumming an unplugged electric guitar. Eight and Five had been scouring the kitchen for any trace of caffeine. They flung open cabinet drawers and checked above the cabinets but could not find even the tiniest of espresso beans.

Heels clicked against the floor announcing Allison’s entrance, “Where’s Vanya?”

“Oh, she’s gone,” Klaus responded. Eight eyed him, wondering what exactly he was on at the present moment.

“That’s unfortunate,” Five signed, closing the cabinet and holding an empty jar, “An entire square block. Forty-two bedrooms, nineteen bathrooms, but no, not a single drop of coffee.”

“Dad hated caffeine,” Allison reminded him.

“Well, he hated children too and he had plenty of us,” Klaus giggled as he cradled the guitar.

Five and Eight gave each other a look that told the other they were done with the current conversation. They were both in withdrawal, they had their last cup of coffee the morning of their Dallas assignment. That was technically the same day, but these two teens needed caffeine to function.

“We’re taking the car,” Eight announced as they both headed for the pair of keys hanging from the wall.

Klaus sat up concerned, “Where are you two going?”

“To get a decent cup of coffee,” Eight said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, grabbing the keys off the wall.

“Do you even know how to drive?” Allison asked skeptically.

“I know how to do everything,” Five said as he snatched the keys from Eight and walked right out the door.

Technically, she didn’t know how to drive, so she had no reason to be mad. But with Five, everything he did bothered her.

She followed him outside into the dark, wet alleyway as they got in one of Reginald’s expensive vehicles.

Five started the car and drove through the city streets with ease. Eight reached for the radio but he quickly swatted her hand away. They did this about four times before she gave up.

“Griddy’s?” She asked.

“Where else?”

As they pulled up to the old donut shop, the memories of when they were younger flooded back. They used to come here all the time when they would sneak out. There was always that sense of thrill they got when they left their beds and ran here together and ate donuts until they couldn’t handle anymore sugar. Of course this wasn’t unnoticed, as Pogo always had an eye on them, but he knew the children loved this time together, so he never told a soul.

The two walked in as the bell rang above their heads, and sat on the stools next to an older man who was the only other customer.

Five impatiently rang the bell a few times, prompting an annoyed Eight to grab his wrist and pull it away.

She scanned the area. It looked exactly the same as it did over sixteen years ago. She wondered if that same lady was still working here.

Her question was answered as the donut lady walked out from the back room and stood behind the counter, ready to take their orders.

“Sorry, sink was clogged,” she apologized while getting out her pen and notepad, “So, what’ll it be?”

The old guy next to them ordered a chocolate eclair, and as she wrote that down she jokingly asked, “Can I get the kids a glass of milk or something?”

Did she seriously think they were related to the trucker? Yes, yes she did.

“The kids want coffee. Black,” Five ordered.

“Please,” Eight corrected him as she kicked him. She saw no reason to be rude to someone simply doing her job.

As she nodded and turned around to get started on their orders, Five kicked back, causing Eight to kick back. They went back and forth a few times until Five grabbed her thigh to get her to stop.

“Quit it.”

Eight stopped, but only because she was taken aback a bit by his action.

Also because he totally started it.

Eight stared at the countertop as she zoned out, not listening to the conversation where Five had gotten information out of the man next to him.

Eventually, their orders were placed in front of them and the donut lady went into the back to get more change. The old guy was kind enough to pay for their coffees which they thanked him for, and he left, the bell signaling his exit.

However, the bell rang once more, yet Five and Eight could see exactly who it was in the reflection in the bell on the counter.

A swarm of commission gunmen entered, guns pointed directly at their skulls, yet the two teens sipped their coffee unbothered.

“That was fast,” Five remarked, “I thought we’d have more time before they found us.”

“Okay, so let’s all be professional about this, yeah?” One of the gunmen came up close, pointing his gun at Five’s head, “On your feet and come with us. They want to talk.”

“We’ve got nothing to say,” Eight said, lowering her coffee cup from her lips.

“It doesn’t have to go this way,” the gunman said, “You think I want to shoot a couple kids, go home with that on my conscience?”

“Well I wouldn’t worry about that,” Five chucked quietly, wrapping his fingers slowly around a butter knife.

“You won’t be going home,” Eight smirked as she disappeared into her shadow, before reappearing behind one of the men, snapping their neck, before disappearing again. Five blinked and stabbed a few here and there.

Gunshots rang through the donut shop, glass flying everywhere, bullets ricocheting.

Soon enough, every single gunman was taken out. It was inevitable, no commission agent was better than Five and Eight.

Five had used his tie to snap the neck of one of them, which he retrieved and tied back on as he went over to the countertop. They both took turns cutting out their tracking devices, each cutting deep incisions into the other’s arm and fishing out the pill-shaped light. They may or may not have dug around a few seconds longer than needed, just to watch the other squirm in pain.

The two of them walked out proudly, leaving their bloody mess behind for the donut lady and cops to find.

Eight was about to walk up to the car when she noticed Five walked right past it. Confused, she sped up a little to catch up to him.

“Hello? Why are we ditching the car? Where are we going?” she questioned.

“Vanya’s,” was all he said as we walked onto the sidewalk.

“But we’re leaving a trace?” She reminded, as if Five was stupid.

“So,” he scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets and he stared straight ahead, “Our DNA is on those mugs and our blood is all over the counter top. It’s even on the fucking murder weapon. Either way, they won’t be able to find us.”

“Fine,” she admitted, “Well then why are we heading to Vanya’s?”

Five had had enough of her questions, which she could tell, yet she still wanted answers.

“Hello?” she walked backwards in front of him, waving her hands in his face. He shoved her to the side and she retaliated by shoving him into oncoming traffic.

He blinked before he fell in front of a car and reappeared in front of her, causing her to bump into his chest.

He didn’t look too happy once she looked up at him so they continued walking. Eight asked no further questions for the rest of the walk.

Once they got into Vanya’s apartment, they sat down on the couches she had in her living room. Surprisingly, she wasn’t home yet, so Eight decided to take a nap on the couch while they waited for her to return home.

The cut along her forearm stung like hell yet she didn’t have the energy to go looking for a first aid kit. She kicked her shoes off and grabbed one of the throw pillows at the end of the couch, nestling her head on it.

Before she closed her eyes for good, she took a peak at Five, who sat in a chair and once again took out the eyeball, turning it, analyzing it.

She wondered what the hell would’ve changed about it in the last five decades as she slowly fell asleep.

~~~ chapter four

☂︎

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