#and why is Hargreeves still alive and seems to be owning everything in the city??? was it always like that??

[toamonster]

The umberella academy S3

I’m happy that the Hargreeves siblings finally got a good ending  (U‿‿U) ♡

But also: 

[paperpocalypse]

crackers and jam.

50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 41. Overhearing they have feelings for you.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,703 words

Warnings: Swearing

Some time back, not long after he got stranded in the post-apocalyptic world and perhaps a year and a half before running into you, Five’s only companion was Delores.

It had been a meeting of chance (as everything is) in the middle of a destroyed department store. She had been looking at him. And maybe that’s why he was so drawn in – that stare; it was a lifeless stare, yeah, but it was not by any means a dead stare like the ones he had met too many times before. No life had been lost to create that stare. She was smiling, too.

Five had lifted her carefully out of the chunks of concrete, greeting her because there was no one else. For the first few weeks, he just placed her at the corner of her store and visited every once in a while, then took to occasionally toting her around the City when he needed to talk. He liked to pretend that she answered back – sometimes. After a few months, he named her Delores.

Then he met you.

Unlike Delores, you were human. Breathing. Alive, somehow. And you had thoughts and feelings that weren’t always connected to his and – and it was weird. It was home.

You didn’t question his friendship with Delores. Five had seen the half-burned stuffed frog in your wagon, so you wouldn’t have had anything to hold over him anyway. He knew that you knew that he still went to the department store in the middle of the night. And, shit, deep down Five also knew that Delores was, in the end, just a hunk of plastic with eyes. But after a year and a half of having nobody else, she had become something of a comfort. And a confidant. Burdening you with his issues was not an option, so when things became a little shittier than usual, he would slip out from underneath his blanket, make sure you weren’t having a nightmare, and head downtown to voice his thoughts aloud.

Over time, though, he learned that you were willing to listen. You listened, and you were always kind about it even if you didn’t always understand. His nightly visits decreased. And it was okay for a while.

But then Five began to struggle with a new issue – one that was a little different than the usual mess of stress and anxiety – and one night, he finds himself looking down at Delores again because talking to you about it is definitely off the table.

Unfortunately, Delores’s kindness is different from yours.

Well, here we are. Again.

“I’m just here to think,” he snaps, combing a grubby hand through his tangled mess of hair. The lantern beside him glows weakly as he plops down onto a slab of concrete. “Mind your business.”

Your business is everyone’s business here, Five. And to put my own two cents in, I think that you’re scared of your own feelings.

Blood travels to Five’s cheeks, unwarranted, as he narrows his eyes at Delores. “For the last time, that’s not what this is about. It’s – Jesus Christ, I’m gonna get over it. This isn’t a life-or-death issue.”

Then why have you been ranting about it like it is?

“I’m not.”

Ha! Rich.

He grits his teeth. She stares back at him, unperturbed. Bastard.

You know, maybe you’ll feel better if you say it out loud. Air it out. Test to see if it’s real.

“I’m not doing that.”

Do it.

No.

Say it.

No.

For god’s sake, Number Five, take a goddamn look at yourself –

“Fine!” Five hisses, though it feels more like an explosion. He throws his hands up. “I like [Y/n], alright? We’re the last people on this goddamn planet and I like them, and I shouldn’t care this much but I do. Happy?”

Delores pauses. Five looks away.

Very.

Ugh.

Did it feel real?

He clicks his tongue, crossing his arms, and doesn’t answer. The smile on Delores’s face seems a little smug, and it makes him want to hurl. He shouldn’t have said it out loud. Relieve some of the pressure and everything starts to boil over …

Breathing in deeply, Five forces his shoulders to relax. He bids a soft goodbye to Delores, then heads back to camp.

—

A week later, Five’s visit comes back to bite him in the worst way possible.

You’ve been having a hard time starting the fire for tonight, so he finishes splitting the evening rations to help you out with the bow drill. As he does so, you watch in silence, both of you waiting patiently for the smoke and dust.

“Do you think we have enough wood?” you eventually ask.  

“It’s enough,” he murmurs, only half paying attention. After a while, a few chalky wisps of smoke begin to rise from the charring wood. He leans in to blow the ember carefully once it forms, then puts it into the tinder and coaxes out a flame. “Get the kindling?”

You oblige, and within a few minutes, a healthy fire starts to dance atop the wood, scorching his face and fingers with heat. Five stares intently at the oranges and yellows for a moment, lips pressed together, intrigued in a tired sort of way. Warmth. Then he backs off and grabs a portion of crumbled up crackers, handing it to you.

You spread the cloth over your knees. “Now all we need is some jam.”

“What kind?”

A soft hum escapes your throat. You contemplate unhurriedly, dabbing up some stray crumbs with a finger. “Blackberry,” you reply after a few moments. “Or strawberry. The kind that’s sort of chunky.”

It’s been a long time since he’s tasted either of those things. The simple thought of whole crackers spread with fresh jam, sweet and dark and sticky, is a luxury in and of itself. Five tries not to think about it too much, munching on his third fragment of stale cracker. It makes his mouth dry. “Hm,” he says, picking up the canteen for a few drops of water.

The fire pops. A few sparks fly out into the air and die just as quickly. You finish your supper and wipe your mouth, stretching your legs out in front of you as you sigh.

Five tilts his head at you. “What?”

“What?” you parrot back, though he sees the way your fingers fidget.

“You have something to say.”

Your facial expression shifts just the smallest bit. “How can you tell?”

(Simple – because he knows you. He knows your ticks; knows how you tick. He knows your smiles and all the subtle ways that your voice rises and falls. He’s memorized you because he fears forgetting, and it’s a problem.)

“Kind of hard not to,” Five replies.

“Oh.” You chew the inside of your cheek, still seeming unsure. “Well, um … I just wanted to talk to you about something. And please don’t be mad.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Um. A couple nights ago, I had a bad dream.”

“I know.”

“Not the one you woke me up from. A different one,” you mutter. “The night after we found the pillows.”

“Oh,” Five says.

“Yeah.” You look down at your hands. They’re dusty and rough, littered with small scars from climbing and falling and holding. “I … um, that night, I woke up and you weren’t there. And I sort of panicked, and went looking –”

The blood drains from Five’s face.

“I went looking for you, and I found you. Talking to her.” You glance at him for a split second. “About me.”

Oh, fuck.

Five stares at you as you fiddle with the scrap of cloth on your lap. You know. You weren’t supposed to know. You weren’t supposed to ever know, and now you do.

“Five?” Your voice is curious and small.

His voice is raspy. “How much did you hear?”

“Almost everything.” You grab the cuff of his coat sleeve as he attempts to stand up. “I’m sorry for eavesdropping. I really didn’t mean to, but –”

“It’s not your fault. Look, I don’t want to talk about it,” he replies tersely. “We need more firewood, anyway.”

“We have enough,” you say, though you relinquish your hold when he tugs a little harder away from you. You sound hurt. “Five, it’s okay to feel like that.”

“It’s not. It makes things more complicated.”

“How?” Standing up, your brow furrows. “I like you too, Five. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

His chest tightens. “That just makes it worse.”

“I like you,” you repeat. Your hand moves down to take his gently. “A lot. And it’s okay.”

(Did it feel real?)

Five meets your gaze solidly despite not quite wishing to, a familiar sense of guilt washing over him when you squeeze his hand.

Sometimes, he wishes he hadn’t met you. Then he would’ve gotten what he deserved for his recklessness – nothing – with nothing to concern himself with other than equations and survival and time. That, he’s fairly sure, would have been easier to manage. He hadn’t been taught to care for someone else. Not like this, at least.

But you. You. Five swallows the lump in his throat.

“I might have to leave you behind,” he murmurs, more hoarsely than he’d like to admit. The words burn like ice on the roof of his mouth. “One day.”

You don’t reply for a few seconds.

Then, for some inexplicable reason, you step a little closer. “But not tonight," you say. "Right?”

For shit’s sake, you’re so optimistic. Five chuckles dryly, hand still engulfed in yours, blinking away the vague stinging in his eyes. “Of course not.”

“Then I forgive you. If you feel like you need it.” With a mild exhale, you smile at him. Your eyes are glossy. “So can we sit back down? I like doing that.”

He quietly agrees.

So you bring him back down to sit before the fire, closer to him than before. No more words are left to be said. A heavy silence settles in their place, neither good nor bad, and almost comfortable. For the first time in a long time, Five tries not to think.

You lean against his shoulder. He welcomes it.

[jjfics]

On The Run | 01

ship: Five Hargreeves x Female!Reader 

summary: The Hargreeves have to leave the Academy behind and run away to Dallas, Texas. The Reader is a lot more anxious than Five and thats understandable, but they need to focus.

series: read part 2 here

author: jane jack aka your girl jjfics 

words: 1950

warnings: mentions of blood, death and murder, (feelings of uncertainty and anxiety, flashbacks) and lots of angssst (why do i love writing angst thoughh??)

a/n: there will definitely be a part 2 so keep those notifications in checkk

It felt as if you could read everyone else’s thoughts through the silence. The car kept moving at a fast speed as you passed cities and villages. From time to time you would worry Five was going to lose control of the car, but he never even flinched. 

He just looked at the road before you; stress and worry were clear in his eyes. There was so much he needed to figure out. Who were you going to be from now on? And him? And his siblings? Were you going to hide forever? 

“Five” you whispered. He didn’t hear you. Or maybe he did and he chose to ignore you. “Five” you said again, this time catching his attention. 

He turned to look at you for a moment and then he focused on the road again.“What?” 

“Can we stop for 5 minutes at the next gas station, please? I have to wash my hands.” you said quietly looking down. 

He pursed his lips before he spoke again. “No.” Five was just being direct. The more time it took you to get to Dallas, the more vulnerable you became. 

Dallas…

You fell through the vortex a couple of months before Five arrived. With no idea where the others went or how to find them, it was really just you, all alone. You were the last one Elliot took a picture of before the chaos of the second apocalypse began. The alley was strange, and so were the people. Everything was different here. You were disoriented and scared. According to the confused strangers when you asked them the date, you were somewhere way before your birth.

First thing you realise when you don’t even have a home anymore is that you need money. It can be so crucial. But how will you, a nobody in the 60s, survive if all you knew how to do, was sing? Music was how you met your best friend Vanya for the first time: at an audition. And after that followed the concerts. The public loved the two of you.

So you did what you did best. 

One day, while walking aimlessly on the busy streets, searching for a place selling cheap food, you started singing your favourite song. A song no one around had ever heard, a song you danced to with Five once. People started to gather around you and listen as you went on. This was it, this is where you were in your element. Your father forced you to take singing lessons when you were four. You didn’t enjoy it at first, but you grew up to love it. People clapped and left you money before going on about their day. So you ended up spending the entire day there. By nightfall you had been given enough money for the whole week. 

You were leaning on a cold brick wall and eating a sandwich when you saw someone drop a newspaper. Curiously, you grabbed it and were shocked by the headline. 

“Young woman sings in front of a bakery stealing every Texan’s heart. Who is the mysterious singer to whom many would empty their pockets for a show? 

You had been living in an apartment above The Rosemary Club, the place you worked at now. You sang almost every night and earned a lot of money and visitors for your boss, so he let you stay there. 

One night, you had a special visitor. He wasn’t there to see you specifically; he was working, just like you. Luther went everywhere his boss went, he was his bodyguard. You made eye contact a couple of times but never spoke on that evening. You couldn’t even look at him without cringing away. Not after what he did to Vanya. Five might say that she’s the bomb, but in your mind, that bomb was pretty much activated by Luther.He tried to talk to you but you avoided him as much as possible. 

“y/n! Wait, stop running away, God!” 

“What do you want, Luther?” you gave him a cold look.

“To talk to you? Isn’t that what normal people do after they haven’t seen each other for a long time?” he asks. 

“I don’t want to talk to you.” you said and ordered a drink. 

“Jesus, y/n, what's wrong with you?”

“Do I have to remind you that we’re here because of you?”

“Because of me? What do you mean, didn’t you see how Vanya literally destroyed the M-”

“Shut up. I don’t care.” you cut him off. “Have you met anyone else besides me, you stalker?”

“No.” he admitted. ”I tried searching for Allison but they haven’t found her yet.” 

“Right. Amazing. Five? No news about him either?” His expression softens. He knew about your relationship with Five, and how much you two meant for each other. 

“No, I’m really sorry. I don’t know where he is…” his voice only getting smaller when he saw the disappointment in your eyes.

You looked up from your drink and to the big man next you. “Then you can leave. I have to go get dressed.” You put your glass on the counter and left.

Your days in Dallas were easy. Life was always the same and you knew what to expect. Sometimes Luther and his boss would show up at the club and you would ignore each other. You sang, you were introduced to some people and you would make small talk with the bartender. Day after day, always missing your friends. Missing 2019. Missing Five. Your life was easy, but you were alone for the most part. You missed cuddling with Five before you went to sleep together and then waking up in his arms. You missed how he would come and pick you up after practise. How he would kiss you after every concert and tell you how proud he was of you. You missed him truly. 

The bow to the public mixed with a charismatic smile and a wave was how you always ended a good show. Walking off stage you rolled your eyes when you saw who came towards you. 

“There’s someone who would like to talk to you.” he said with a stupid smile planted on his face.

“I’m on break.” you tried to walk away. Luther grabbed your arm and spun you around so you would be facing him again. “Hey! What are you doing? Back off!”

“Believe me, y/n, you really should go talk to him” 

You eyed him suspiciously. “Well alright then.” you said sarcastically. “But keep your hands to yourself.” 

“Yeah, right, sorry.” he said and stepped to the side . “Come with me, he’s waiting outside.” he babbled before leading you to the main entrance of the club, one which neither of you used. This all seemed sketchy. If he was trying to kidnap you, I’d be no surprise. 

The air outside was cooler than usual. You crossed your arms and huffed. 

And then you saw him. Right there, alive and in front of you. He was well. He survived. 

He was still wearing his uniform, which was clean. He must've just arrived. 

You ran to him as fast your red heels allowed you to and he met you with a warm embrace. He still smelled exactly like himself. A day to him, months for you. Is this what it felt like for him when he was stuck in the future? You hugged him tight and inhaled his scent deeply trying to forget all these nights you cried, hoping he would come through the door and hug you. Hoping he would materialize in front of you like he did for his father’s funeral.

The man still looked young, but you knew damn well who he was. He wasn’t someone you’d forget that easily. Finally, he was here, with you. 

He pulled away and it almost pained you. It was crazy, of course, to think that after all this time you’d lose him again, but even as much as moving an inch scared you now that he was right here. 

“y/n.”

“Five”

Your lips melted together in the most awaited kiss of the century. Of all time maybe. His hands glued themselves to your waist again and you saw him perfectly in the dim light of the alley.

Your eyes were empty. You wanted to wipe your hands but the blood on them had dried already. 

“Five, please I need to wash my hands. I need to- I- I have to wash it all away- Please” 

He hated that he had to hear you beg and yet he couldn't stop. It’s for her own safety, it’s for our safety, he would think. 

“y/n we can’t stop now. Even 5 minutes could mean our deaths right now. Please understand” 

And you wanted to understand. You wanted to stay calm just like the rest, but they were trained. They’ve done such things before. You however, didn’t. Everytime you looked at your lap you saw her again. Laying there, lifeless. You saw the knife as it fell from your hands, making an awful sound when it hit the floor. Maybe if you’d wash them, the flashbacks would stop. 

“Please, I can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t be like this. This is not- It’s not-” 

Your breath was uncontrolled. Everytime you closed your eyes, you saw her again. Everytime you would inhale, she would exhale for the last time, again, and again, and again. You were fully sobbing now. 

Vanya’s hand softly touched your shoulder from the back seat and you flinched. “Shh, it’s just me” she cooed “It’s just me” 

You tried to relax a bit and then spoke again, hoping to get it right this time.

“I’m a bad person, Five. I just killed an innocent woman and… and I have her blood all over my hands.” you looked at him to find he was already looking at you. Guilt and regret were visible on his face. “I’m a killer, Five.” you wept. 

He reached your cheek with one hand and wiped your tears away. “She wasn’t innocent” he stated. “She’s killed many people.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m any less of a killer” 

“Well, then. I’m a killer too. More or less than my siblings here. So we are all on the same team.” he spoke calmly, as if the Hargreeves discussed murder at the dinner table every evening. Thinking about it twice there’s a big chance they did, when the old man was still alive at least.

“But you killed to survive, Five. You had to. I didn’t but she’s dead now.”

He huffed in annoyance. She’s not used to this. Take it slowly, he thought.

“You had to, too, y/n. It was self defence. If it wasn’t her then… well then let’s not think about it” he finished. Then I would be the one dead, you added, but only in your head because you knew how much he hated thinking about anything bad happening to you. He wanted you safe. You wanted him safe.

“Okay then. But as soon as we’re in Dallas we’ll stop and get new clothes.” you started to come back to your senses again. Right. You need to get to the city and find a way to trick the Commision. Or maybe you needed to hide. Or just freshen up and get on the road again. You didn’t know exactly what you were going to do, but if anyone found the map Diego was holding in his lap right now, they’d know exactly what your first stop was going to be. The Rosemary Club.

[xenteaart]

One Faulty Briefcase

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: Basically, due to some faulty time-travelling equipment you get separated from Five and end up being stuck in the past on your own. Fun times.

GIF: @jos-march​

Note: This is another part of this AU. Five and reader are in their late 20s here. Hope you enjoy! Pure fluff for you during those dark uncertain times

You’ve been stuck in the past alone for two years now. It was the 15th of May 1982; you and Five were just finishing up one of your missions, nothing remarkable, nothing extraordinary. Getting rid of your mark was quite easy, you’d say almost too easy to hope the mission was going to end well.

“Five, I think there’s something wrong with the briefcase,” you pointed out worryingly, eyeing the time-travelling device with suspicion as the two of you were gathering your things around the motel room, getting ready to leave.

“What do you mean?” he asked nonchalantly, paying very little attention to your concern.

“We landed weird. Not like we usually do. I don’t know, something was just off about it,” you replied with a puzzled frown on your face, recognizing that whether you were right or not, the briefcase remained your only way out of the year you didn’t belong in. Five looked the device indifferently and shrugged, not thinking much of it.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for Five to be done with whatever it was he was doing, staring at the goddamn briefcase as if it was alive and plotting against you. It was probably nothing. You didn’t get to have a vacation in so long, always on the go, always busy and tense, it was probably just your exhaustion transforming into paranoia. Maybe, all you needed was a day off.

“Okay, let’s go,” Five’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You simply nodded and got up on your feet before taking a hold of the briefcase and stepping closer to Five so he could put his hand on your shoulder. Using a briefcase wasn’t exactly rocket science - there were very little ways to mess up. None, to be precise. They were programmed to a certain time period by the clerks at the Commission, and all you had to do was push a button, so, clearly, it couldn’t have been you who screwed the time-jump. But something did, and the very second you pushed that button, you felt electricity go through your veins, making you break the contact and let go off the briefcase.The pain that coursed through your system lingered for another twenty seconds, leaving you shaking on the floor and breathing through what felt like a full-body cramp, and when it finally subsided, you looked around and realized you were still in the motel room in 1982, except Five was gone and nowhere to be seen along with the briefcase.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” you whispered to yourself, your eyes wide open in disbelief that you were actually right to be worried.

The damned briefcase was your only chance to get home. Well, you didn’t really have a home per se but even the flat the Commission provided you and Five with, despite the fact that you barely got to spend any time there with your never ending trips across the timeline, seemed like a better option than being stranded in the past completely on your own.

“Fuck.”

You had no better option other than to wait for Five to show up but with each passing day your hope and patience were wearing thinner and thinner.

There were only two reasons as to why it’s been two years and you still haven’t heard from him - he either just didn’t care about you which was quite unlikely or he was in some sort of trouble himself. Some days you felt very optimistic, knowing full well that Five would never just leave you nor would he give up on trying to reach you, other days anxiety and solitude weren’t doing you any favors, making you believe it was how you were going to live out the rest of your life. In the year that you didn’t belong, doing things that weren’t yours to do, sleeping in a bed that wasn’t yours to sleep in. The most difficult part was living through each day completely clueless about when it was going to end or if it was to end at all.

For the first few days you stayed at the motel, waiting for Five and still full of hope. Thankfully, you had enough cash on you to cover a week's stay. But on the seventh day you woke up and it suddenly dawned on you. You had to go and make a life for yourself because you were staying.

It wasn’t exactly easy since people barely cared about your circumstances, dismissing you like they dismissed any other homeless person. You were invisible to them, just another nuisance with a story they didn’t have time for.

As soon as you completely exhausted your resources and didn’t even have lunch money, you had to spend a few days living on the streets. Sure, being a professional assassin was a relative advantage on your side but you didn’t want to spill any unnecessary blood and only used your skills for mild robberies up until you landed a job at some cafe.

You thought it was a nice change since you were never exactly happy with working for the Commission in the first place. Serving meals and talking to customers felt like a much needed vacation - the job was simple and almost relaxing, especially compared to a job of a hitman. Being a waitress, however, didn’t bring you nearly as much money as you needed to cover your rent so you still robbed occasionally, always making sure no one got hurt.

Five crash landed in some dark alley, even though mere seconds ago it was noon. The briefcase became too hot to the touch, so hot it was painful to hold it, so Five hissed and let go of it instantly. It didn’t explode like he expected it to which was really good news, it meant it was still working but obviously needed fixing.

Luckily, Five Hargreeves was a bit of a genius so he was bound to make things right eventually. But for now he was also thrown off the original course, landing just a few years later, in 1990.

The Commission didn’t seem to care about the accident much. Of course, they could send another agent to scoop you both and bring you back safely but you were nothing but tiny cogs in a grand machine, and you were replaceable. Watching you two on an Infinite Switchboard, the Handler lit her cigarette with a sinister giggle, curious about how you were going to figure it out. She would probably help you if there was some out-of-the-ordinary case that she’d need Five to take but for now everything was rather peaceful, tedious even, and the Handler fancied some entertainment. Plus, any agent could take the job she had planned for you both, so there was truly no hurry.

As soon as Five found a safe place with no one around to distract him, he began fiddling with the wires inside the briefcase, hectically remembering everything he’d learned about them in Orientation. There was no easy fix to this and he was probably going to need some time to come up with the solution but he already had a few options in mind so it was time to get started.

It was a slow lazy Sunday and you were already at work, all dressed up in your uniform and in an unreasonably good mood. Maybe it was the sun outside that made you a little happier and a titch more oblivious to your circumstances or maybe you actually enjoyed living a normal mundane human life, or maybe it was both. Either way, you felt pretty alright for someone who got stranded in the past with no chance of seeing the person they loved the most.

The place you worked at was usually pretty crowded on Sundays, so you had barely any time to be reflecting on your life, too busy running around with plates and drinks in your hands.

One of the hit songs started playing on the radio and you couldn’t help but dance to the happy tunes that felt so appropriate for the warm bright day outside.

“Come on, don’t let me down this time,��� Five whispered, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and wiping away a few drops of sweat from his forehead. He took a few seconds to assess his work, making sure he didn’t miss anything and the briefcase was all done and ready. Needless to say, he’s tried contacting the Commission numerous times by this point but all he got in response was silence, so he gave up on that idea eventually and tried to repair the device on his own.

Five pushed the button.

This time, the landing was even rougher than before, quite literally making him smash into the hard unwelcoming asphalt and split his eyebrow. But he did land somewhere so it could probably count as progress.

Your shift was coming to an end as the city was slowly immersing into the pink colors of the evening sky. As Five entered the cafe, you were still waltzing between the tables almost carefree, mouthing the lyrics of some random song and moving to its beats like no one was watching. He recognized you right away, your posture, moves and physique too familiar to overlook. You’ve spent more than ten years together, after all.

When you finally noticed him just standing in the middle of the hall, your heart dropped and so would the plates you were holding if you hadn’t been quick enough to catch them. You froze for a good ten seconds, staring Five right in the eye, too scared to believe it was actually him and not your imagination playing tricks on you. As you put the plates down on a nearby table with a loud bang, you ran towards Five and squeezed him in a deadly tight hug, almost making him lose his balance.

“What the fuck, Five,” you said with a gasp of relief, your words half muffled as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, “How did you find me?”

“What? I didn’t. I just popped in for a coffee before looking for you,” he uttered, frowning. Only as you pulled away, you finally noticed that Five was still wearing his work suit, and the stains on the fabric were a clear giveaway that it was the very same suit he was wearing on the day you two got separated, “Wait. Why is your hair so long? And what are you doing here?”

Now you were both confused. Properly confused.

“What?”

“What?” he mirrored your tone, still gazing at you as if he was solving a riddle. And then it hit him. “What year is this?”

“1984. It’s been two years.”

“No, it hasn’t.” and it was true for Five, it’s been less than a week in his timeline, so he either miscalculated the jump or the briefcase’s navigation system was more corrupt than he had anticipated.

“Yes, it has, smartass, look around,” the words came out a lot more snappy than you would have liked, and you took a deep breath, then wrapping your arms around Five again and pulling him closer, clearly reluctant to ever let go just in case.

“Not sure if I want to attempt getting us back with that nonsense of a briefcase but we’re both here now so that’s good news,” he muttered, closing his eyes and shaking his head a little as he returned your hug and held you close. You smiled weakly and chuckled, giving him a quiet “yeah” in response.

Five’s body was warm against yours, and you couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath at the realization of how much you’ve missed him. He rested his hands on your waist in a protective manner and simply stood there, letting you enjoy the embrace as the entire cafe was silently staring at the pair of you with utmost confusion and almost fascination.

“You know what that means, though?” you asked quietly, unable to resist a smug grin.

“Hm?”

“I am now four years older than you instead of two.”

“Oh, God. I’m never gonna hear the end of this, am I?” he rolled his eyes in response as he was gently rubbing your back in calming circles.

“Nope.”

-

The consequences for the Handler were going to be disastrous because Five was already getting about a dozen ideas on how to make her pay for her inaction and there was no force on planet Earth that could stop him.

-

a little sequel to this fic here

[angst-fairygodmother]

Light Fingers (The Umbrella Academy)

Diego’s vigilantism brings him repeatedly across the path of a young cat burglar. But as he finds himself developing feelings for the thief, he begins to wonder if there’s more to her than meets the eye, and whether they’re really on opposite sides. And as their relationship deepens, it brings with it a plot involving his estranged adopted father, and threatens to destroy all of them.

CHAPTER 13: DARKNESS FALLS

Word Count: 2362 Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Reader Rating: T Content Warnings: swearing, references to violence (canon-typical), heavy angst, sort of spoilers for TUA season 1? Cross-posted to AO3: here

Previous Chapter: Confrontation || Masterlist

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Two weeks after your visit to the Academy, and everything that followed, a headline caught your eye as you poured coffee for a couple at the diner. ‘Eccentric Billionaire Reginald Hargreeves Under Federal Investigation. Crimes include Smuggling, Arms Dealing, Fraud’ screamed out at you in bold black print and you barely managed not to scald yourself as your hand trembled.

Your mind was racing. It hadn’t seemed real, when you were making phone calls and “visiting old friends” and whispering in the right, or wrong, ears. It was a stab in the dark, that you never expected to amount to anything. But it seemed like someone, somewhere, had listened and moved on D.S. Umbrella and your father-in-law.

A bubble of elation built up in your chest. Unable to contain yourself, you yelled out that you were taking your 15, despite the earliness of the hour, and jogged down the street to pick up a copy of the morning paper for yourself. As you scanned the article, more snippets jumped out: “midnight raid,” “suspicious and hazardous materials,” “illegal within city limits.” They also mentioned looking into his accounts, heavy investigation into recent break-ins at the warehouse that authorities suspected were to cover up evidence, and a re-examination of the adoption records for his now infamous Academy of children. That last one made your heart skip a beat. You hadn’t wanted to drag Diego or his family into any of this, and certainly not risk having his world flipped upside down. Still, there was hope nothing would come of that bit, and he would never have to be involved, and everything else was well worth it.

With a giddy giggle, relieved and stunned that things were going better than you could have hoped, you tucked the paper into your bag and returned to work, feeling lighter than you had in a while.

~

“This is insane,” Diego said, dropping onto the couch, head in his hands and the copy of the paper you’d brought home on the table in front of him.

“Is it?” you countered, sitting down on the far end and tucking your knees up to your chest. “We knew he was up to something…”

“But not this! Why would he raise us the way he did if he was a criminal?”

“Covering his tracks maybe? Or there’s something bigger here we haven’t put together.”

“You’re not even a little surprised by this,” there was something flat to his tone.

You shrugged, knowing that he knew you too well to deny it.

“What did you do?”

“Technically, nothing.” He fixed with you a firm, unamused expression that made you sigh. “I just talked to people. Gossip, anonymous tips, that sort of thing. I didn’t really think anyone would listen.”

His jaw clenched as he struggled to reign in his anger. “Who else did you talk to?”

“A few journalists, some law enforcement that Patch put me in touch with who wouldn’t ask too many questions, some folks in my line of work. That one clearly didn’t go anywhere, or we would have heard by now, especially if there’s an investigation too.”

“Thieves?”

“No waitstaff.” You rolled your eyes.

“What for?”

“I thought...I figured if some other crews went in, free looting, it would make it harder to figure out what we took, cover our tracks some.”

“That doesn’t make sense. He already knew we were there. Y/N, what aren’t you telling me?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s done now. I’m sure nothing will happen, the authorities are probably in his pocket, and if not...Prison for someone like your father isn’t even that bad. It’s a penthouse, just one with a 24/7 guard at the door.”

Diego looked annoyed but didn’t say anything else. You bit your lip, the silence tense over the two of you.

“I’m sorry, Diego. I just thought...it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

He grunted in acknowledgement. A moment later, he stood, silently getting ready for bed, despite the relatively early hour, and went to bed without a word. You waited, fighting back tears, still curled on the couch. You didn’t expect Diego to be thrilled the way you were that something was happening with Reginald, but you also hadn’t predicted this anger.

“Y/N,” he called softly, an indeterminate time later, making you jump. “Come to bed, sweetheart.”

~

Things in the household felt fragile after that, even the dog could sense that both you and Diego were tip-toeing on eggshells, waiting for the outcome of the investigation, like the Sword of Damocles.

And then it dropped, with a breaking news bulletin, one that made you almost grateful that Diego had a late night at the gym. You wrapped your arms around yourself, shuddering, as you watched an all too familiar building go up in smoke.

“No one knows what, if anything, was taken by the miscreants seen fleeing the warehouse shortly before the explosion, or why they chose to destroy the structure so definitively,” the news anchor said, the rest of her words blending into a drone in the back of your mind.

At some point, you fell asleep there on the couch, waiting for Diego to come home, startled awake in the morning when the door slammed shut.

“Diego?” you asked, frowning and rising to greet him. “Are you okay?”

He laughed bitterly, shaking off your hand on his arm and stepping away. “You’re really asking me that, Y/N? After everything you’ve done?”

“What are you talking about, Diego?”

“I’m not an idiot Y/N.”

“No but evidently I am, because I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about, baby.”

“Don’t,” he growled, shaking his head again. “D.S. Umbrella. Thieves, an explosion. You’re honestly trying to tell me you had nothing to do with it?”

“I didn’t! Not...directly!” you protested. “I promised you that I wouldn’t go after him, so I called in friends who could, who would.”

“How is that any different?”

“I...you said yourself that he was dangerous, and he proved that to me. And I got scared okay? I panicked, and when I saw a solution, I took it. Torch and burn, and salt the earth seemed like a good idea.”

“And Luther? Was he part of your plan or just an acceptable casualty?”

“What do you mean?” your frown shifted from one of upset to confusion.

“Pogo called, last night. Dad sent Luther to the warehouse had he got caught in your friends’ chemical explosion. He’s lucky to be alive.”

There was a slight hitch to his voice as he spoke, and you knew that despite the years of tension between them, hearing such news about his brother had shaken Diego badly. And you hadn’t been there for him. You reached out for his hand, to comfort him as you usually would before recoiling.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen. No one was supposed to get hurt.”

Diego scoffed in disbelief, nostrils flaring angrily. “Why should I believe you?”

“Because I don’t hate your brother, and I had no reason to want that. Because your father was the one who sent him in, alone and probably unprepared even though he knew better than anyone what hazards were in there. Because I’m your wife, and I wouldn’t lie to you, not when it mattered. Because I never wanted any of this, I just couldn't sit back and do nothing.”

“Why not? And give me a straight answer this time, Y/N.”

“While you and Luther were busy getting out all your boyhood aggression or whatever, I tried to find answers just like we planned. Only instead I ended up having a nice little chat with Reginald. And he said that everything was staged, that it was an audition. That I passed. And he threatened you, and he called the Academy a failed experiment.”

“You never said anything to me.”

“I didn’t know how,” your voice was sharp, pleading. “I have even less answers than I did when we started. All I have is that your father didn’t care about you, but he did about me, for something. He was willing to let you die to test what I could do. He was okay with the idea of hurting you to keep me in line. I...I had to protect you. So I did the only thing I could think of to do.”

“We’re s-supposed to be a team.” His eyes were still dry, but you could see the pain written across his features, and you closed your eyes against the sight.

“I know,” you said softly.

“W-w-we could have figured it out t-to-tog-gether if you had ta-lked to me…”

“We tried that Diego,” you wanted so badly to reach out for him. You hated that you couldn’t. Not now. “It had us spinning in circles.”

"So you just shut m-m-me out?" His lip quivered.

“Would you have done any differently?” you gave up on even trying to keep your own emotions out of your voice, tilting your head in question as you looked at your husband, the man you loved, and said words that you knew were breaking both your hearts. “Honestly?”

He was painfully silent, lips pressed together and eyes downcast as he considered your words, and what his answer would be. Rather than let the question continue to stew, you forged onward, almost afraid of what would happen if you didn’t.

“I’m truly sorry that Luther got hurt, and glad he’ll be okay. But I still stand by what I did. It was the right choice to make. If anything, it worked out better than I had hoped.”

“H-how could you say t-tha-that?” despite his stutter there was outrage in his voice now, raising the pitch to almost a shout.

“If it’s him or you, as far as I’m concerned, there’s no choice. I’m not sorry for that.” You shrugged. “And maybe almost losing his last loyal son will be enough to get your father to back off, to rethink, stop doing...whatever it is he’s doing.”

Diego’s body tensed and his eyes narrowed to a glare, the full fury and hatred locked inside suddenly directed at you. There was no trace of the pain in his voice now and it made your blood run cold.

“Luther’s an asshole, but he’s m-y family.”

“I know that, Diego. And I know how much family means to you. That wasn’t how I—”

“You know, you’re starting to sound a lot like my father.”

You stared at him, aghast.

“You’ve been just like him this whole time, haven’t you?”

“What?” you couldn’t keep the break and horror from your voice, didn’t want to.

“All this scheming and planning. Using the rest of us as puppets. It’s all about the so-called greater good. And screw anyone that gets in your way.”

“Diego, that’s not—” You tried to pull your emotions back into check but couldn’t. Hot, desperate tears pooled in your eyes before spilling down your cheeks.

‘Not what?’ you froze to ask yourself. ‘Not fair? Not true? Isn’t it though? Wasn’t he completely right, that you and Reginald were circling each other, playing a game with each other? Lay a trap, dance away from it. Steal a piece of information, change it’s meaning. Capture a bishop, sacrifice a knight. Move and counter-move. For months now.’

“I’m going to the gym tonight,” he said, making a dismissive gesture when you remained silent for too long. “I can’t do this anymore.”

He turned on his heel, throwing a few things in a duffle bag haphazardly.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” you said quietly as you watched him pack, rooted in your spot in the living room.

“Of course it was a mistake!”

“I don’t mean things with your father or D.S. Umbrella,” you took a deep, shuddery breath. “I...I mean us.”

“What?” his voice dropped, all the anger leeching away as he hesitated in the middle of folding one of his turtlenecks.

You took a shuddering breath, “None of this would have happened if we hadn’t gotten tangled up trying to pretend we fit together, in each other’s lives.”

“Y/N. Stop.” He shook his head, words clipped and forced. “Don’t say that.”

“Say what Diego? What we’re both thinking? I love you, so much. More than I can possibly say. But...I don’t think that’s enough. I was...we were better off alone. Everyone was.”

“That’s not t-true.” He took a step toward you and you took a step back. He looked like the world had just dropped out from under him.

“Tell me I’m wrong. Please?” you begged, voice and lip trembling. “If you can say that, after everything I’ve done, after all of this, I’ll believe you. But...don’t say if it’s not true.”

“That’s it?”

“I don’t know.”

Your gut gnawed at you, the still image of the burning warehouse catching in the corner of your eye. It felt like he was going to forgive you, even for a moment, for that, for Luther, and you couldn’t fathom that. And the more you spoke, the more you found yourself meaning the words. You loved him, and he loved you, and that could only hurt.

“I should go,” he said, half-heartedly, almost asking you to stop him.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

His keys rattled as he picked them up, and the door closing behind him seemed louder than you had ever imagined possible. It felt like one of his daggers was protruding from your chest. You couldn’t breathe.

“Diego, wait!” you called shakily, throwing open the door but not quite chasing him into the hallway.

He stopped but didn’t turn around. Silence hung like a wall between you. Your tongue felt like lead. What could you possibly say to undo what you had just done?

The minutes dragged on, the silence unbroken.

With a sigh you could almost imagine wafting back to flutter over you, he started to move again, and you stood there until his back disappeared. Only when he was truly gone, did you sink to the floor.

“Goodbye Diego,” you murmured, the words trailing off into a sob.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader Season I

Chapter 8- I Heard A Rumor

Summary: Five’s healing from his shrapnel wound, Diego’s been arrested, now it’s up to you and Allison to find Vanya.

Masterlist - where all the other chapters are⚔️

Tagged: @sambucky8 @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch @alonewolfsblog @starrrybarnes @winterboobear11

The drive to Jenkins grandmothers house is long and silent, the two of you settling into a nervous quiet. Allison worried for Vanya, while you’re worried for what’s happening with Diego. Of all the times for him to get arrested and it’s right when you guys get a lead. Perfect. You cross your arms as you lean yourself against the door, closing your eyes tight and taking a deep breath as you open them once again. Looking out the window at the scenery, it’s dark out and raining heavily as Allison drives. Deciding now is as good as ever, you close your eyes and lay your head against your arm, trying to catch up on some sleep, hoping the ride goes faster.

When you open them again it’s early morning, the sun is still hiding behind the clouds leaving the world in dull blues, pinks, and oranges. You shift your gaze over to Allison who looks like she’s about to fall asleep at the wheel.

 “I don’t think you’d survive a car crash...so in other words, I’ll drive the rest of the way there. Deal.” You tell her with a bit of tired humor in your voice, she gives you a weary nod, slowing the vehicle down and steering it off the side of the highway.

 You both get out, switching positions, as you start the car up beginning to take down the road again. You glance over at Allison who’s already passed out on the window, “Good talk.” You mutter to yourself, content with the comfortable silence.

You get off the highway, making a couple turns here and there until you reach a gravel backroad. This is it. You cautiously make your way down the drive, past trees, ferns, and other greenery. You’d honestly be enjoying the surroundings of nature more, if this trip wasn’t about finding Vanya and her crazy boyfriend. 

“Allison wake up, we’re here.” You whisper, reaching out to nudge her shoulder as you park at the bottom of the small gravel driveway. She startles awake, looking at her surroundings, relaxing once she sees how calm you are.

“That seemed fast. Thanks for driving us the rest of the way...I was seriously about to pass out at the wheel.” She explains with a yawn, you let out an amused puff of air.

“I’ve been in a car wreck before....I know surprising right...it’s not what I would consider, a fun experience.” She lets out a small chuckle at your early morning bluntness, it still amazes her how unfazed you’ve become to traumatic events that have happened to you. You’re guessing it all stems from the rapid healing and whatnot, you’re body doesn’t exactly give you a proper second to contemplate your injuries. Already deciding to heal everything quickly and get on with the next problem.

The both of you get out, slowly walking up towards the cabin, deciding to find a side entrance instead of barging in through the front. It’s best to be subtle, unlike some specific individual who you will not name. You slyly stalk your way to a low window, Allison right behind you.

 “See anything?” She whispers as you peer carefully through the glass, not catching sight of anything of any real importance.

That is, until your eyes land on a black violin case, “Vanya’s violin case...but that’s it, I don’t hear any movement.” You whisper back, moving away from the window to face her, “Let’s get out of here, they can’t be that far.” You add glancing around the old cabin, she agrees and the two of you turn to leave.

——

“Someone better have fucking died, why are we stuck in goddamn traffic...in the countryside...literally nowhere. We’re not even in the city, what the hell?” You angrily ramble as Allison sits at the wheel listening to you go off. It takes another ten minutes to finally make it to some restaurant type business plaza area where something out of the norm has defiantly occured. Traffic is at a standstill once again as you look out the passenger side window at the various policemen wandering about in the nearby parking lot. She suddenly gets out of the car, noticing police cars surrounding some fenced off area with police tape all around it. You grumble, opening up your own door, flipping up your hood and hastily following her. She grabs a scarf that was hanging from off of a sign, walking over to the police tape and lifting it up to make her way into the off limits zone.

 “Allison what the fu..” You start to tell her as a police officer gets to her first. 

“Hey! Pardon me. Hey! I gotta ask you to stay behind the lines. We had an accident here last night.” He explains, halting her from walking any further. You make it to the yellow caution tape, standing on the outside like a civilized person.

 “What happened here then?” You wonder, not unnoticing of the narly blood stain smeared on a nearby wall. Shit maybe someone did die.

“Ma’am. The line, please.” He adds, still wanting Allison to get behind it.

 “Okay. Yes. Sorry.” She says, lifting up the yellow caution tape and standing next to you.

“Got a lot of stuff on the ground, okay? To be wary of.”

“What happened?” You ask again, really curious as to what’s holding up traffic. 

The officer sighs while putting his hands on his hips, “We’re trying to figure that out. As soon as we do, you’ll be able to read it in the newspaper with everybody else. So have a nice day.” The officer says turning to walk away. Allison takes off her sunglasses, “Look officer, is there any way we..” He snaps back around his eyes shooting wide in surprise, “Holy shit! You’re Allison Hargreeves. I saw you on tv like two nights ago in that Sandra Bullock movie about underpaid teachers that rob a bank.” He excitedly rambles on. Rolling your eyes you flip your hood back, not caring if he recognizes you since Allison has taken it upon herself to blow cover. Your hair falls around your face as you blow a puff of wind to get a piece out of your eyes, this overly enthusiastic police officer’s mouth drops open once again. His face contorting from confusion to shock to realization. Ah, shit..he does indeed recognize you to your great surprise. He points to you excitedly, “No freakin way, you....you’re.....you’re...Y/N. This is crazy, you’re the Olympian! Of the frickin’ Umbrella Academy.” He gushes passionately, you purse your lips together, internally cringing a bit at hearing your old superhero name. The name you were given due to your likeness in powers and obvious immortality, to that likeness of the Greek gods and goddesses of mythical lore. You truly haven’t heard that name in many, many years, apparently you still have some old time fans.

 “Yep, That’s us.” You fake smile at him, Allison doing the same, enjoying the recognition way more then you are.

“Oh! Wow. Hey. Never in a million years could I have thought I’d be in the presence of Allison Hargreeves and the Olympian. How bout’ that. What a day, huh.” He says, at a loss for words and what he could say next to his two idols, you and Allison just stand in an awkward silence. “Copy, Cheddar?” Speaks a woman’s voice from his cop radio. He quickly goes to answer, “Yeah, what do you got, Fred?”

“Hospital called. Perp from last night just regained consciousness.” She replies back. “Copy. I’ll be right over.” He says back, his face morphing back to that of an excited child’s, “Wow. Allison freakin Hargreeves and Y/N...the Olympian! Wow. My wife’s not gonna believe it.” He gushes yet again, you’d love to bitchslap that smile right off of his stupid face along with his dumb stereotypical small-town cop mustache. Allison just chuckles, as you cross your arms, “Anyway, I...I..I..I gotta go. Work stuff....Yeah.” He says almost sadly. “Yeah, of course. Sorry.” Allison answer with, as Officer Cheddar walks past you two, headed for his police car. “Actually, that’s...why I’m here. I’m... I’m researching a role. A law enforcement role.. with Y/N.” She explains giving you a quick side eye, you turn your head away from them, trying to hold in laughter. No fucking way is this cop gonna believe that load of bullshit. “In Jackpine Cove? We haven’t had a murder here in years.” He tells her. “Oh, uh...it’s about, um...a small-town cop who takes down a drug cartel. In fact, maybe I could tag along while you conduct some official police business? I promise...I won’t get in the way. I just...I think you could really, um...help develop my character, if I could live a day in the life, you know.” She tells him, hoping her little fib will do the trick. He nods carefully thinking it over, “Day in the life, huh? Eh..Come on. Follow me.” You’re eyes widen as your mouth drops open, how in the fuck? And she didn’t even have to rumor him, Allison you sly dog. She gives you a hopeful glance as the two of them start walking towards his car leaving you in the dust.

“It’s fine, I’ll just trail along...gotta get the car....that you’re leaving in traffic.” You grumble as they shut their doors, you walk over to your own vehicle. Opening up the door and getting inside.

——

When you finally made it to the hospital, Officer Cheddar wouldn’t allow you near the wounded victim, calling it official police business or some shit. Allison gave you an apologetic look as you walked out the sliding glass doors without another word. 

Leaning against your car, you watch cars come and go, birds going about their day, and listen to the sweet sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. Ever grateful for the lack of car horns honking every ten seconds. As well as the usual nasty smells radiating from parts of the city and coming from god knows where else. You close your eyes, letting your mind wander.

What was happening with Diego? Is Five’s injury healed yet? Was Klaus okay? And where the hell was Vanya? So many questions and concerns throwing themselves at you, and oh right. There’s an apocalypse happening within the week. Things just are not going tremendously well this week, well that’s not entirely true. Considering you’ve had some pretty stellar times with Diego here and there, all very nice times indeed. Ah, but of course, Allison would get to have a fun little detective adventure with the local idiot. And she didn’t even have to rumor him! Even now she always gets what she wants, she always has, no..stop..you can’t think like that. You stopped giving a shit about who got the most attention long ago, you’re not about to start feeling resentment now. But your mind can’t help itself as it starts to saunter into darker grounds.

———

“Number Eight, if you weren’t so focused on the safety of Number Two, this mission would have been an utter success. But due to your lack of consistency when engaging in combat, you deliberately discontinued the annihilation of those four crime bosses. Jeopardizing the lives of their hostages, and all so Number Two wouldn’t get shot.....wounds heal.” Snaps Sir Reginald Hargreeves, as the whole of the Umbrella Academy plus yourself, sit around the dinner table. He’s verbally beating you down for saving Diego’s life on the Umbrella Academy’s latest mission. Where all of you surprise attacked a crime boss and his minions in his own mansion. You freed multiple people that where there due to human trafficking and other depraved things concerning illegal drugs and whatnot. It was successful to say the least, but a maid got shot in the arm when you decided to save Diego’s life instead. A mistake that Sir Reginald would not miss, nor would he ignore.

You glare up at him from across the table, “That maid survived. What? Would you rather have Diego die, or have a normal civilian live with some small injuries?” You ask him, as calmly as you can muster. He puts his fork down, sitting back, “You are part of the Umbrella Academy. Act like it. I will have no further arguments out of you for the rest of this meal, is that understood?” He replies sternly, cutting you off from further arguing, he takes a bite from his fork while watching your every move. You clench your jaw in frustration, no matter what you say he won’t care, “I understand.” You mutter through clenched teeth, turning away to focus sourly on your meal that you could care less about enjoying at the moment. The rest of dinner is held in an awkward silence.

As you’re returning to your room, Luther comes walking around the corner, headed for his own one. “Why do you always try and talk back to him? I mean, he is kinda right. You should have helped that woman, that’s what we’re there for.” Explains Luther as the two of you walk down the hallway.

“Of course you’d agree with him, why do I even bother.” You growl at him, rolling your eyes.

 Suddenly Allison walks out of her room, joining the two of you stopped in the hallway.

“If you’re here to tell me I was wrong for talking back I’ll shove my foot up your ass.” You deadpan, her face grimacing in disgust.

“That’s lovely. But a little advice, Y/N, if you want to stay on his good side, just shut your mouth and try to be less of an asshole.” She tells you like a scolding mother, you shake your head at them, “All you two have to do is exist and follow everything daddy tells you. While the rest of us get kicked under the rug. He likes you two the best, you know. But I don’t even need to tell you...I’m positive you both are capable of already understanding that.” You whisper yell at them, sick of all their high and mighty comments, just don’t talk and let Reginald boss you around. No way. “Whatever.” Mumbles Allison. “You just don’t know how to be normal, or how to not be a smartass.” Sasses Luther rudely.

“What? We are literally the closest thing from normal for fucks sake.” You snap at him giving him a what-the-hell-are-you-serious face, he crosses his arms in annoyance.

“Don’t swear. You know we can’t say stuff like that. Dad or Pogo might hear. And Y/N, stop trying to start stuff. You wonder why Dad makes sure you’re last for everything, he doesn’t exactly like you as much....then again neither do I.” You look at him with a poker face, trying your hardest not to bitchslap him right now. It’s honestly incredibly tempting.

“I’m really feeling the family love, Luther. And by the way.....all of you suck.” You add bluntly, flipping them off as you turn on your heel and walk angrily into your room, slamming the door in their faces. 

You sat in the middle of your floor for a good hour just fuming with quiet rage, until everything started to simmer down. They all get on your nerves to no end, and the only ones you can stand for longer then two hours are Vanya and Ben. Klaus is fun for awhile, that is on most occasions, until he starts trying to get you to see how long you can hold your hand over a flame before it hurts to much. Oddly fascinated with your ability to rapidly heal yourself, oddly enough you’ll usually do it, but you can only take Klaus in small doses. Then there’s Diego, who you’ve formed a solid love/hate relationship with. He’s just so weird, one minute he’s acting super cute and funny and trying to impress you or show off his knife skills so incredibly hard. Then a second later. Luther, Allison, or Reginald walks into the room and he’s being a jerk. Pretending like you don’t exist, and acting like such a hard-ass, it’s stupid. Klaus swears he’s got the fattest crush on you, but sometimes you’re not so sure, that kid gives you hella mixed signals.

Suddenly you hear a knock at the door, “If it’s you Luther, I’ll shank you with a paintbrush.” You tell this mystery person, crossing your arms as you look up at the door. You hear a soft chuckle from the other side, “No need. It’s just Diego....uh...could I come in? Please?” He whispers from the other side, your heart swells and you quickly get up to open it. “What’s up loser, I hope you’re not here to crush all my hopes and dreams.” You quip opening up the door wider so he can walk in, you closing it once again. He walks over to your carpet, sitting down by a bunch of random pillows. You soon follow, sitting across from him. “So, whatcha doin here?” You awkwardly ask him, confused as to why he’s in your room, not that you mind, but still. He fiddles with one of his daggers, looking down at his hands, “Uh, I wanted to say thanks for saving my ass yesterday. Sorry you took the fall for it, that was pretty badass of you to stand up to Dad.” He tells you still avoiding eye contact, you smile at him, “Well, I’d rather not have my favorite frisbee partner kick the bucket.” He smiles at that, finally looking up at you. “Yeah, we make a pretty good team, huh.” He glances down again at his dagger, nervously twisting it in his hands, “So, uh, Y/N. I..uh...have something to um...tell you.” He looks up at you, you can hear the thumping of his heartbeat quicken as a light blush dusts his cheeks, he continues, “Please don’t think I’m weird...but I really...like..yo..” Before he can finish his declaration of how he truly feels for you, the door bursts open. Revealing Luther and an angry Reginald, “Number Two. Number Eight. You were strictly told to go to your rooms and not come out until morning. I will have none of this, Number Two, out!” He snaps.

“I’m already in my room.”

He gives you a deadly warning glare as Diego gives you a sad look before bolting out the door. Reginald following as Luther gives you a snide smile, practically silently laughing at you. Fuck off, Diego was about to tell me something important you pricks. You would have liked to say, but thought otherwise, a wonderful moment utterly ruined.

———

Oh the fun childhood memories that stay with you to this day, intrusively barging their way back into your brain when you’re alone. Damn they all were little pricks back in the day, huh. All you tried to do was stand up for others and keep them safe, but all that the others wanted was to desperately please Reginald at any given opportunity. And that was the first time Diego truly opened up to you, it was short lived, but it was the start of something amazing.

“Y/N! Y/N! Hey!” Shouts Allison who’s running to you, your head snaps up at the sudden noise.

“What? I can hear you, calm down.” You tell her, pushing yourself off the car door.

“Vanya and Leonard Peabody were just here this morning. They were here, when we were at the cabin, they must have come back. We gotta go.” She hurriedly rambles, taking the keys out of your hand and opening up the drivers side. 

“Well shit.” You run around to the passengers seat, hoping in quickly, as Allison takes off towards the cabin.

The drive is thankfully short, but by now the suns beginning to set as a new darkness starts to engulf the land. It’s beautiful and calming to feel the night air and listen to the wind sway the pines back and forth. But you have no time to fully enjoy it, to worried and on guard for what you and Allison might run into.

“What the hell. Why’s it so windy all of a sudden.” You say aloud, shutting the car door and turning to walk up the gravel driveway. “Yeah, this is definitely odd.” Mutters Allison, equally as puzzled.

As you both reach the porch, the sound of Vanya’s violin wafts its way out and into the quiet night air. It’s beautiful, with the exception of all the lights and other porch furniture that’s swaying to the wind, er music. You’re not completely sure what’s going on. “Vanya? Is that you?” Shouts Allison as she looks into a window, quickly walking up to the door and opening it. No regard for safety, come on Allison we talked about this, you think to yourself as you follow her into the windy cabin. “Vanya, there you are. What is going on?” Allison half yells, bringing Vanya’s attention to the two of you. “Hey V.” You wave at her awkwardly, as she stops playing her violin.

“What are you two doing here?” She questions, trying to figure out how you would have found her, and most importantly why?

“We came to find you. Are you okay?” Allison worries. “Yeah.” Vanya says with a small but confused smile.

“Vans, you wouldn’t happen to know what’s causing all the spooky ghost wind? Now would you?” You question her, giving the room a short look around.

“Me.”

Allison walks in closer, “What do you mean, me?” She asks, confusion clear on her features. You furrow your brows, puzzled as well. “I mean....I made those things happen. With my powers. Turns out I’ve had them all this time. It’s weird, huh?” Vanya tells the both of you, her voice holding a tinge of resentment.

“It’s in..it’s incredible.” Allison gasps, shocked and amazed at this new information.

Vanya’s face falls, “But?”

“Can we just leave now. We’ll all have a nice lovely conversation about it in the car.” You rush, feeling the tension in the room starting to increase, as you attempt to get things rolling.

“Why?” Wonders Vanya. Allison glances down for a moment, sighing softly, “You’re not gonna want to hear it.” She warns, oh right, we gotta tell Vanya about her psychotic boyfriend. That’s gonna go well.

“Well, that’s never stopped you before.” She adds dryly, ouch. But well deserved.

“Leonard Peabody? His real name is Harold Jenkins.” Allison pauses for a moment, letting the information sink into Vanya, “Remember when I couldn’t find anything in the library on Leonard? It’s because Leonard Peabody doesn’t exist. Harold Jenkins does.” She explains, Vanya listens in silence, not sure what to believe anymore.

“She’s right. He was in prison for 12 years. The sick fuck murdered his father when he was 13...his pops might have had it coming..but still.” You tell her, further backing up Allison’s facts.

“This is...insane. His dad was an engineer at the..” Allison cuts her off, “I have the police report in the car, Vanya. I can show you.”

“I don’t...I don’t understand.” Vanya says shaking her head, not believing in these obscene facts. You walk closer to Allison, who’s standing a couple feet away from Vanya. “Leonard, Harold, Yeah man. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, and it sounds crazy. But we were in his house, this wack-job has pictures of us with our eyes gouged out.” You urge, trying to help her understand. Her brows furrow in agitated bewilderment, “Wh..What?” She starts as Allison quickly interrupts her, “I promise I will tell you everything in the car, but it is not safe.” Rushes Allison worriedly as she grabs Vanya’s arm, pulling her a couple feet towards the door. “No, stop.” Objects Vanya, sitting down in a rocking chair, Allison falling to her knees in front of her. “Look, um...I can’t imagine how hard it is for you to hear this...how you feel right now, but I..I love you, and I just...I wanna be here for you, as your sister.” Pleads Allison, desperately trying to get Vanya moving and away from this place. You stand back, folding your arms in concern, you can feel a heavy uneasiness crawling over the room.

“There’s just no way. I love him. This just doesn’t make any sense. And this power...I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know what to do.” Mutters Vanya, her face washing over in troubled distress, overwhelmed by everything that’s happening.

“Now I understand.” Whispers Allison, apparently remembering a long forgotten memory, “When we were four. Dad told us you were sick. You had to be isolated. We were so young. None of us knew to question it. But then he asked me to do something I never understood...until now. He made me an accomplice.” Explains Allison shamefully, bowing her head down in disgust for what she did. You watch Vanya’s shocked face, you had no idea any of this happened. And clearly neither did she.

 “You did this to me?” Whispers Vanya.

“I...I didn’t realize.”

“You knew this whole time? That I had powers!” Shouts Vanya, getting up off the rocking chair in a fury. “No, no! I didn’t understand until we came today, until I saw it.” Pleads Allison standing up as well. You just stand back and continue to watch the shit-show, damn, this family continues to surprise you to no end.

“Well, now it all makes sense. This is why you never wanted me around.” She cries, anger and sadness fueling her.

 “What? No!”

“You couldn’t risk me threatening your place in the house, your...your dominance.” Vanya continues, her temper rising by the minute. “That is not true.” Adds Allison, Vanya screaming back, “You couldn’t handle the fact that Dad might find me special.”

“You are special, with or without powers.” Snaps Allison desperately. 

“Don’t...Don’t say that!” Screams Vanya, her face a mask of hurt and anger. “We have a chance to start over.” Allison tells her calmly, Vanya not buying into anything, “You destroyed my life!” She yells. You throw your hands up to your hypersensitive ears, not being able to stand the shouting anymore.

“Oh, come on Vanya. Everything is out in the open. We can move on.” Begs Allison getting frustrated. Vanya shakes her head, “Oh, I’m moving on. But not with you, or Y/N, with Leonard.” She snaps, you interject for the first time, “With Harold, the crazy bastard remember.” She ignores you, screaming back, “With Leonard! The only person who has ever loved me for me!” Allison stands back, lightly chuckling at the ridiculous thought of this random psychopath loving anyone. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not threatened now.” Says Vanya calmly, you look around you as the wind begins to pick up in the cabin once again, shit.

“I don’t wanna argue with you.” Begins Allison, Vanya vocalizing her rage, “Then go! I don’t want your help!” She wails, you cover your sensitive ears tighter.

“Vanya, I love you!” Allison cries, begging her to listen.

“Stop saying that!” Screams Vanya, even louder then before. Allison’s face scrunches up in confusion as she looks around the windy room, “Are you okay?”

“I said go!” A second later the lights above Allison shatter, raining down glass into your hair and hers. “Please don’t make me do this.” Begs Allison, at her whits end, and out of ideas on what to do about Vanya’s growing outrage. You take a step back, your legs hitting the front of the couch, afraid of what she’s about to do next, “I heard a rumor..” Allison begrudgingly starts, without warning Vanya reacts with lighting speed, you watch on in horror as Vanya whips her violin string across Allison’s vulnerable throat. Slitting it in one clean motion, your eyes shoot over to a shocked Allison, then deep red blood begins pooling out of her neck. Her eyes go wide as she raises her hands to stop the bleeding, you and Vanya race over to her as she begins to fall to the carpeted floor. “Allison!” Screams Vanya, terrified at what she had just done. “I didn’t mean to...I didn’t....I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She cries, glancing at you then back to Allison as hot tears begin streaming down her face. You listen to the strained gasps coming from Allison, as you rip off the bottom of your shirt and place it firmly where the injury is, doing your best to stop the bleeding. While Vanya’s hyperventilating next to you, you can hear Leonard urging her to get up and follow him out the door. He rushes over, grabbing her arm roughly and pulling her away, you snap out of your trance of saving Allison’s life.

Racing after them, Leonard shoves a hysterical Vanya out the door, before he whips around to face you, who’s staring daggers at him from the doorway.

“The Olympian. It’s an honor to finally meet you.” He says with an agitating grin as you sneer at him.

“Well, I wouldn’t stay to excited about it for much longer.” You snap, he chuckles at that while taking a step back.

In an instant you lunge at him, pushing him ferociously into the porch railing, the boards snap as they catch his weight. He staggers to his feet, wiping a smear of blood from his mouth and letting out a ragged cough while giving you a sly smile as he goes to picks up Vanya, “You won’t be able to move for quit awhile. And that’s all we need.” He tells you mysteriously, turning away and hastily limping down the steps, hand in hand with Vanya. You snap out of your daze, going to take a step to finish the job when your stomach has the most intensely jarring sharp pain, practically screaming at you to stop. You look down, this fucker stabbed you with a Swiss Army knife. “Goddammit.” You groan, grabbing its hilt and pulling it painfully out of you. Some blood squirts out and drips onto the wooden floor. You grimace, lifting the bloody blade up to your nose, you take a small sniff. “Oh fuck.” You deadpan, he coated the blade with some type of poison. You’re not sure what from, but you can tell its been tampered with, this dick knew what the fuck he was about, damn he must really hate the Umbrella Academy.

Knowing you probably only have a couple minutes left before the toxins fully reach into your system. You drop the knife, stumbling over to a barely conscious Allison. You fall to the floor, grabbing the arm of the couch with your left hand. Your whole body feels sick and you start to sweat heavily, you’re not sure if you’re about to vomit or not. Luckily it passes, replaced by an intense agonizing pain stabbing at your stomach, at least you can still breath. You crawl to Allison’s legs, leaning yourself against the couch, fighting to keep yourself awake, you have to stay awake, you have to fight through the poison that’s desperately trying to kill you. But everything feels so fuzzy and you can hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. It’s deafening. Nonetheless you crawl forward, reaching your right hand up to press gently onto her bleeding wound. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been slumped on the floor in agony, straining to keep your eyes open as bloody drool seeps out from the side of your mouth. But you could have swore you just heard the sound of car doors slamming shut. A moment later the screen door bursts open, Luther entering first, followed by Klaus, Five, and Diego. Luther races over to Allison’s left side, since your slowly dying on her right. Klaus kneels down in front of you, lifting your head up, it’s so hard to move, your body feels like it’s on fire and tied down by a thousand ship anchors.

“Y/N, what happened? What’s wrong with you?” Pleads Klaus breathlessly, terrified that you’re not healing right away. It’s how poison works, it won’t kill you, but damn will it keep you awake in a half dying state until the affects wear off.

Diego suddenly materializes from up above you, your vision is so blurry, you could barely tell it’s him. You can’t clearly make out a single comprehensible word from either of them. But a minute later you can feel yourself being lifted, and carefully carried out the door and down the steps. Where you’re then put into a car, your head and shoulder is leaning against something soft and warm. Presumably Diego or Klaus but you can’t tell anymore. Then the vehicle begins to move, the dull rumbling of the engine, forcing you into a half-conscious state. You don’t remember the ride home.

[lochrannn]

Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Allison Hargreeves; Klaus Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C

Chapter 3/?

-

They end up avoiding each other for days. From what she can tell, Diego spends barely any time in the flat at all. She suspects he’s not even sleeping in his own bed most nights. And so she’s effectively all alone, except for the couple of days she goes to work in a small café, a job she basically does to keep busy, not because she actually needs the money.

On the first day she thinks she might find somewhere else to live, half out of wounded pride and half because she feels a bit guilty for apparently making Diego practically move out. But who is she kidding, money isn’t the obstacle in this city, the fucking housing market is. There’s no way she’d find a place like this, with a roommate who does his part to keep the place clean, has, so far, never brought people over, and in fact spends most of his time at work and out of the house, anyway.

And Lila liked– no, likes Diego.

In hindsight, the worst she can accuse him of is that he put his foot in it when he had ultimately been trying to do the right thing… if very badly. Apart from that he’s generally easy going, if a bit stressed out about work, from what she can tell, and… well… a lot of fun in some respects. He also really seems to care about people. He mentioned a brother one time, who he seems to look out for a lot, though he didn’t say it in so many words.

And the other night when she left her room after their argument, and the flat was completely empty, she found her abandoned sandwiches covered by an upturned bowl, and the considerate gesture made her feel even more foolish about how she’d blown up at him.

So yeah, she won’t be moving, but she does hope that things can just go back to normal between them, that she can at least feel relaxed at home, living with someone who she casually gets along with, who doesn’t hate her, and if that’s what it takes, she’ll even do her best to stop remembering what his lips feel like all over her body.

-

Lila’s a bit at sea in her life. She’s recently given up halfway through a post grad history programme and she doesn’t quite know what she wants to do now. And the long days doing very little, only broken up by the occasional hours working in the café and getting to deal with the full force of the public make for a very effective insomnia cocktail.

So Lila gets up in the middle of the night to make herself some chamomile tea.

The kettle has just boiled and she’s pouring the hot water over the tea bag in her mug when she hears Diego quietly come in through the front door and only making it to the couch before sitting down with a near silent sigh.

She really hopes, for all the trouble it ended up causing them last time that he’s not going to whip out his dick again.

She takes a cautious look out into the living room and spots Diego sat on the couch, leaning forward with his hands buried in his hair, shoulders hunched over and looking tense.

On a whim, Lila grabs another mug and tea bag, fills it with more of the hot water from the kettle and then picks up the two mugs and carries them out into the sitting room.

She’s not actually being particularly stealthy, but it seems Diego’s wrapped up in his own head, because he doesn’t notice her until she sits down on the edge of the sofa, leaving a respectful bit of distance between them, and he startles out of his hunched position and looks up at her warily.

Lila does him the favour of ignoring the brightness of his eyes and the way the corners of his mouth are drawn downwards, and instead holds out one of the mugs towards him and asks, with true sincerity, because this could be her chance at things going back to normal, “Tough day?”

Diego stares at her for a very long moment, not even studying her, just staring straight into her eyes, and in the end Lila sighs and is just about to put the mug on the coffee table in front of them, when Diego’s hand shoots out and he takes it off her.

“Yeah…” he says quietly while holding the steaming hot tea in both hands, elbows resting on his knees. He doesn’t take a sip though, he just stares into the gently swirling tendrils of steam.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Lila asks carefully.

Diego gives her a sideways look, almost as if to gage her sincerity and then stares back at his mug.

“D’you think it would help?” he asks back. It seems like he’s both resigned to the idea that it wouldn’t, but almost hopeful she’ll say it will.

“Only one way to find out,” Lila offers with a shrug.

It’s ridiculous, really, how the tiny upwards quirk of the corner of his mouth affects her.

Diego pauses nevertheless and Lila waits him out. It’s not like she has anything better to do.

Then he sighs heavily and says in a low voice, “Had to tell a mom who hired me to find her runaway daughter that her kid got killed in a car crash six months ago…”

Lila watches Diego rub his thumb over the droplets of condensation on the outside rim of the mug and doesn’t really know what to say to that, so she goes with the first thing she can think of.

“That fucking sucks!”

Diego makes a noise that’s halfway between a harsh laugh and a sniff and just says, “yeah.”

They sit like this for a while, neither speaking, just sipping their slowly cooling drinks until Lila breaks the silence.

“What would you have done if you’d found the girl and she hadn’t been dead?” It’s an odd question, she knows, so she does understand why he turns to look at her quizzically, but it makes her almost squirm under his scrutiny nevertheless, so she starts explaining, “I ran away from home once…” but she doesn’t know how to finish the thought.

Lila ran away from home when she was sixteen and she hated everything about her life with her adoptive mother. Absolutely every single one of her material needs had been met and yet she had felt so lonely and so unloved that she had thought then, she’d rather live in squalor with just a scrap of affection from anybody than spend another day in that big empty house of her mother’s.

Diego stops staring at her and instead turns his attention back to his mug again, slowly moving it around in between his hands.

“I’d have asked the kid what she wanted to do next, that was the deal her mom and I had.” He turns to look back at Lila and holds her gaze. “She came to me, telling me her daughter ran away when they were living in a bad situation with the kid’s stepdad, but that she’d managed to get away from him now. I checked up on that info and it seemed legit, so if I’d found her daughter alive, I would have told her that her mom was looking for her and where she could find her… Shit didn’t work out that way though.”

He casts his eyes down to where Lila is fiddling with her own mug. She wonders for a moment how her life would have gone if someone like Diego had come looking for her instead of one of her mother’s semi-legal contacts.

Diego looks back up at her and something changes in his expression and Lila only notices that some of the tears that she could feel brimming in her eyes must have slipped out, because he lifts his hand up to her face and brushes over one cheek and then the other.

Lila makes a tiny noise that’s a bit of a gasp and a bit of a sob and she doesn’t know if it’s because of her own sadness or his gentle touch.

Diego’s hand lingers for a short moment on the side of her face and then he pulls it away abruptly, turns away from her, and facing forwards again he says tensely, “Uh, sorry for ruining your night with my sob-stories.”

The shift in the mood is too rapid for Lila to react and Diego must take her lack of a response as tacit agreement because he goes on, suddenly not able to look at her, “Yeah, uh, it’s pretty late anyway… are you done with that? I can take it to the kitchen with mine,” he asks carefully taking her empty mug out of her hands and then getting up off the couch at the carefully calculated speed that doesn’t quite look like he’s fleeing, but it’s also very clear that he’s trying to get away as quickly as possible, and heads back towards the kitchen.

Lila has no idea what just happened.

-

Diego’s lying awake in his bed.

The apartment is completely quiet, he’s had a whole mug of fucking herbal tea, and when he walked in through the door he felt like the only thing he could do at that point was sleep, but of course now he’s wide awake.

He doesn’t allow his thoughts to drift to Julie Brown and her mom because that’s just too devastating. He was only the messenger, he barely knows Ms. Brown, it’sjust one of those small tragedies that happen all the time all over world, and yet he feels like if he thinks about the lost opportunities and the terrible fucking timing of it all, he might just shatter.

But where his thoughts do drift isn’t actually that much better.

He did it again. Somehow he upset Lila again, even though all she’d tried to do was be a decent roommate, maybe even a friend to him. And if he could only keep his hands off her for five minutes, respect her fucking boundaries, maybe they still have a chance at some kind of cordial relationship.

Diego moves angrily about, trying to find a comfortable position. He punches his pillow to get it to co-operate but when he settles down he still doesn’t find sleep.

Consequently he is still as tired as last night when he drags himself out of his room and into the kitchen in the morning, and absolutely nothing could have prepared him for what he walks in on.

Lila is there.

As is Allison… as is Klaus.

His two siblings are currently arguing over something that Diego is too stunned to tune in to and he quickly glances at Lila to see that she’s watching their back and forth with amused bewilderment.

For a second he has to quell the urge to pinch himself to check he’s not wondering around a very strange dream, but then Klaus spots him in the door and claps his hands once and then says in that never quite sincere tone of his, “Oh Diego, wonderful to see you and how nice of you to join us! Want some coffee? I made some coffee!”

His brother swivels around in the small kitchen as if looking for something, and apparently Lila catches on because she turns to a cabinet above her head, pulls out a coffee mug, and as she moves back around to hand it to Klaus, their eyes meet. Traitor, Diego think and almost as if she can hear his thoughts, she gives him a half smile and a tiny shrug, and suddenly Diego’s stomach swoops and can feel heat creep up his neck. He hopes his siblings don’t embarrass him in front of Lila. Which is ironic, seeing as he’s been doing a damn good job of that himself.

Of course he has no such luck.

“Ok, I’m in a hurry,” Allison says tersely, looking at her wrist watch and then crossing her arms.

“Diego, we’re here because this is unbearable to watch. Clearly you are in debt, when you absolutely do not need to be. So once again, I’m asking you as nicely as possible: Would you please for the love of god, accept your fucking inheritence?” Her volume gets increasingly louder and by the end she’s thrown her hands up in exasperation. “I mean, you’re a thirty year old man with a failing business and you’ve had to resort to taking a roommate!” She adds a bit more calmly, “No offense, Lila!”

“None taken,” Lila says. But Diego notes that there’s a tiny edge to her voice that indicates she may have taken some offense. Diego can’t blame her.

“Jesus, Allison, it’s not the fucking nineties. Loads of people, in their thirties, live in shared accommodation, don’t be such a snob!” Diego is absolutely not in the mood for this ambush and he almost doesn’t care at this point if they end up having their weekly family argument in front of LIla. “Anyway, I renounced my inheritance!”

“Yes, and it was all very dramatic!” Allison adds, sarcasm in her voice. “But then your share reverted to us and we all agreed we’d hold onto it until you come to your senses, so just take the damn money, Diego!”

“I’ve told you before, but I’ll happily tell you again, if I have to, I do not want the old man’s money! Give it to Klaus, if it’s burning a hole in your pocket, I’m sure he can think of more fun ways to spend it than on loan interest payments!” Diego stares down his sister, but out of his entire family, she is probably the one who has never once been cowed by his quick anger.

“Oh I absolutely would,” Klaus says chirpily into the tense stand off.

“Urgh, whatever!” Allison says with an eyeroll and then pulls her arms apart and turns to Lila to say politely, if not particularly warmly, “Lila, it was nice meeting you,” but Allison doesn’t let her answer before she starts making her way out of the kitchen.

She stops right by Diego and the genuinely gentle hand she lays on his arm is quite the contrast to what she says next.

“Do feel free to come crawling to me when you can’t stand the taste of instant noodles anymore.”

She then leans up and kisses his cheek before disappearing around the corner and before he can decide to call a snide comment after her, Klaus is in front of him, handing him the forgotten cup of coffee and then also leans in to give him a delicate kiss on the cheek and he says, “Don’t be a stranger, Diego!”

“What are you talking about, Klaus, you basically never get in touch with me!” Diego responds with some genuine indignance, and a slightly dumb and puzzled expression passes over Klaus’s face and he says contemplatively, “Oh is that the case? Well, I’ll try and do better.” He pats Diego’s cheek, but in true brotherly fashion, it’s just a tiny bit too close to a slap, before following Allison out of the apartment.

When he hears the door shut, Diego suddenly remembers Lila and he turns back into the kitchen and for a second the words die on his tongue just from the way she’s watching him intently and with bright eyes.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, “Sorry about that! Siblings,” he shrugs uncertainly, “you know how that can be.

“I really don’t!” says Lila, her tone remarkably even, and Diego only realizes belatedly that there’s a tiny twitch to the corners of her mouth and it strikes him then that she’s trying not to laugh, “but that sure was educational!”

[dogbearinggifts]

Little Tyrants, Chapter One: Hearing Voices

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: When Vanya was four, Reginald Hargreeves visited her cell. But not to take her powers away. Just to let her know he could. Just to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her powers were a privilege he could rescind should she ever choose not to fall in line.

Years later, the old man is dead—and the last sibling Vanya wants to see has reappeared in the Academy courtyard.

This work is also available on AO3. 

Author’s Note: If you’d like to read the asks that inspired this story, you can find them here and here. Follow-up asks can be found under the tags “vanya keeps her powers au” and “five returns as a kid au.” 

The prologue can be found here. 

*******

You are the king of an island of one  All alone in a world that lost its only black sun You are the king of an island of one  Little tyrant soon to come undone  All hail the king.  —Anberlin, “Little Tyrants” 

His death made the news.

That came as no surprise whatsoever. Sir Reginald Hargreeves was known the world over, though it had never been clear if this was by accident or by design. Perhaps he had chased the spotlight only to spurn its advances and make those behind it all the more curious. Perhaps he had simply used the cover of secrecy to do what he’d always liked and left the world to salivate over every scrap of news that managed to escape that mansion. 

Or perhaps he had known from the beginning what the world would think of his methods and had hidden them behind a wrought-iron fence and expertly packaged lies. 

“…found dead in his mansion earlier this afternoon.” 

Vanya clutched the strap of her violin case. She wasn’t the only one there, not by far. Bars like this tended to be most crowded on the weekends, but that didn’t mean they stood vacant the rest of the week. This seemed to be one of those that attracted a range of people close to her age, provided they liked cigarette smoke and fried food alongside a dizzying array of beverages. Others like her, who had seen Sir Reginald’s face pop up on this screen or that and had needed to hear the report rather than watch it, formed the bulk of the crowd. 

“His death appears to have been natural, although authorities will still perform a thorough autopsy to rule out foul play.”

Vanya sniffed. If murder had ended him, the police would have known as much at first glance. She’d lost count of all the criminals she and her siblings had put away over the years, but she’d be damned if Dad hadn’t. Any one of them would have been honored to have finished him off, and any one of them would have left some sort of calling card, be it an artistic fatal wound or a message scratched in blood. 

“Although most well-known as the founder of the Umbrella Academy, Sir Reginald Hargreeves will be remembered as a globetrotting man of mystery who appreciated his privacy as much as he appreciated making our world a safer place.” 

She could have made the entire bar tremble at that. Shake the plates, rattle the glasses, send bottles crashing against each other as their contents formed a dirt-laced cocktail on the tile. Watch heads swivel this way and that as their search for what caused the tumult became a search for who and—finally, a search for why. Maybe she’d answer. Maybe she’d simply turn on her heel and stride off into the night. Six months ago, her reaction to the chaos would have been her one and only concern. 

Six months ago, she didn’t have the courts breathing down her neck. 

Vanya elbowed her way through the throng of impromptu mourners. Those that knew her on sight stepped as far aside as the small space would allow; those that didn’t stared transfixed as the reporter repeated the few details he’d been given. No one tried to stop her. No one put a hand on her arm and offered a few canned words of comfort, or asked a question she couldn’t answer. One way or another, they simply moved aside until she’d pushed the door open and stepped out into the chill. She tugged a long breath into her lungs, scarcely noticing the lack of cigarette smoke. 

Dad was dead. 

It should have been expected; he’d sported white hair and wrinkles for as long as she could remember. But he’d remained spry up to the moment she’d left, and every moment after as far as she could tell. Keen enough to recognize any tune he didn’t like and quash it accordingly. Quick enough to identify everything she’d done wrong on a mission before she’d caught her breath. Strong enough to leave bruises ringing her wrists if her words or deeds failed to please him. 

“You know how easily I can bring this to an end, Number Seven.” 

Her next breath tore itself from her throat. She grasped instinctively at the noises around her—a group of friends chattering, cars gliding by on the street beside—wanting, needing to throw it toward the brick wall of the bar, watch dust and debris shower to the sidewalk and drive Dad’s voice from her mind. 

Prison time. 

She held to the sound, but couldn’t bring herself to release it. Not yet. There was power in that noise, and she wasn’t ready to be defenseless. Those words, those two words that had been repeated far too often since the incident—they kept the sound where it was. Like a rock in her hand, it remained motionless, awaiting the transformation she would grant. 

Prison time. Prison. You could go to prison. 

Vanya let the sound go, feeling it slide from her grasp like a leash towed along by an unruly dog. She sucked in another breath, and another. Her first steps away from the bar staggered a bit, but she steadied herself and walked on. When the nearest bus stop came in sight, she took a turn to the left and set off for the next one. 

Dad was dead. 

The thought didn’t bring a rush of sorrow or regret or any of the other things therapists said were normal to feel when a loved one passed on. Of course, calling Dad a loved one was less a stretch and more a blatant lie, but that thought roused none of the approved emotions, either. She pictured him lying in a coffin, hands folded over his chest and felt nothing. He was dead. Gone. Beyond even Klaus’ reach, unless his latest stint in rehab had worked a miracle.  The fact brought no more sorrow than knowing that Paris was the capital of France. 

“Perhaps for our next mission, you can stand beside me and watch as your siblings fight alone.” 

Vanya quickened her step, drawing a long breath of the cold air. The bus stop stood just ahead, and it was empty. She sat on the bench so quickly it creaked beneath her weight, her violin case sending out a loud crack as it collided. A quick check revealed no damage to case or instrument, and she snapped the case closed before the temptation to play overwhelmed her better judgment. 

“Is this what you would have me do, Number Seven?” 

Dad was dead. She’d never hear that voice again. Never be called Number Seven again. 

Her grip on the violin case tightened, turning her knuckles white. That voice had fallen silent, the man who owned it gone from the world. It would never find her again. 

The street was far from noiseless this time of night. A group of boys—high schoolers, from the look of it—approached from her left, nudging each other and laughing loudly. To her right a car’s engine was shut off and a door slammed. Other vehicles ambled by on the street in front of the bus shelter; footsteps sounded behind it. Sound surrounded her, and each one called for her to take it in her grip and make it live, to tear down the shelter, crack the sidewalk, soothe her fury through the fleeting peace of destruction.  

Vanya stood so abruptly her violin case nearly spilled from her lap. Her apartment was a good thirty-minute walk from this stop, but she couldn’t escape that voice if she remained still. 

*********

Five should have buried them properly. 

He’d covered them with earth, bringing it in by the shovelful when he needed more to cover them completely. He’d patted it down, making each makeshift plot look as even as possible. He’d found enough small shards of rubble to mark where they lay. One for Luther. Two for Diego. Three for Allison. Four for Klaus. 

They’d been half-submerged in the rubble of the Academy when he found them, skin and clothes brushed with a layer of dust and pocked with cuts and bruises. He’d tried to move Luther first, taking his twin’s cold hands in his and tugging with all his might, nudging or tossing some of the debris pinning him down out of the way when those efforts failed. 

He’d ended with his hands pressed against a wall, trying to gulp enough air to sustain his tears. 

The smoke was more or less gone now. Five wasn’t sure if the whiffs he caught now and then were remnants or memory, but he’d come to accept them. Like the ache that always pressed against his head from all sides, or the weariness that clung to every limb, it was just a part of life after the end. 

Five set the fourth stone on Klaus’ grave, nudging it until it formed a small circle with the other three. These looked much nicer than the rubble he’d used before, adding a tiny patch of color to the ash. Flowers would have looked even better, but most plants had been hard to come by. This handful of colored rocks would have to do. 

He stood, battling a wash of dizziness. Ben wasn’t buried in the Academy, and neither was Vanya. If they had simply been out and about when the Academy fell, chances were they’d been trapped by another fallen building or caught in one of those fires that seemed to have overtaken the entire city. If Dad had sent them on a mission prior to the end, they could quite possibly be alive and well on the other side of the world. 

The image of that charred body, lying prone just beyond his field of vision, burst into his thoughts. 

Five sucked in a breath, willing it not to shake. Skin burned beyond recognition. Clothes nearly gone, the few tatters remaining stripped of color. He hadn’t looked longer than the few seconds it took to process what he was seeing, but the body was too far gone to make out any distinguishing features or other clues as to its identity. If it belonged to an outsider, he couldn’t say how they had found their way into the Academy before the world burned. And if it belonged to family….

He shook his head slightly, shutting his eyes against the image of Vanya shouting in fury as furniture trembled and walls cracked. She hadn’t been there when the Academy fell. Dad, for whatever reason, had sent her and Ben alone on a mission. 

They were still there, those remains. He hadn’t buried them. With no way to know whose they were, he couldn’t say whether they belonged in the Academy with his siblings or if they belonged elsewhere in the city. 

A breeze ruffled his hair, stale wind carrying a smell he couldn’t identify and a sound that might have been cracking char, burned limbs twitching, ruined head turning toward him, nonexistent lips parting to say—

Five scrambled for the edge of the rubble and bolted for the gate. There was no reason to take it, the fence surrounding it having long since collapsed, but he dodged a pile of brick and darted through. 

“Five….” 

The voice was cracked, hoarse as though from a long illness or years of disuse, but he’d recognize it anywhere. He’d heard it often enough, screaming for what he’d done in her room or what he’d said or just for being in the kitchen when she wanted it to herself. 

“Don’t you dare run from me…” 

Five’s lungs already burned. His legs threatened to buckle. He had to keep running, but he’d collapse before he was far enough for that voice, for its owner, to catch up with him. 

He had to jump. 

He hadn’t jumped since landing here, in a world reduced to ash and cinders. If a jump through time took him to the end of everything, a spatial jump might take him to the middle of a ravine. 

“I know where you….” 

Five held the destination in his mind. Not the library, but a street close by, a street ruined by whoever—whatever—had struck the final blow. There was a little house on it, one that hadn’t collapsed entirely. Its front was brick and the rest was white vinyl siding, with a little iron sign by what had been the sidewalk bearing the surname of the home’s former owners. He pictured that house. Thought of it. Imagined standing out front, studying the ash-stained brick and blackened siding, his foot inches from the fallen sign. 

And then he jumped. 

The darkness cleared and he tumbled to his knees. Breath snagged on his parched throat and he coughed. His knees gave way; he fell forward, supporting his weight on arms that protested the strain. Still the coughs kept coming, tearing at his throat as he dropped to his side, pressing against his chest until he thought the pain alone might send him into blackness.

But he was still conscious when they cleared.

Five kept his eyes closed, hugging his knees against the lingering pain. Nothing seemed to be broken, and the ground he lay on seemed steady enough, lacking any of the sharp rocks or rubble he’d half-expected to find. But he’d see it all the moment he opened his eyes. He’d be inches from the edge of a rooftop, feet from the den of a coyote or some other starving animal.

He opened his eyes.

Asphalt greeted him. Inches from his nose was the edge of an iron sign. He raised his head just enough, only enough, to spy a few concrete steps leading to a brick housefront with a familiar shape. When he sat up a little more, he could just make out the small streak on vinyl siding where he’d wiped away ash to reveal a little strip of white.

Five lay his head on the asphalt and closed his eyes.

******

The first call came while Vanya was fixing breakfast.

She paused, spatula held over her French toast, listening past the music. The High Kings hadn’t been her first choice, but after a few loud knocks against the floor from her downstairs neighbors, she’d been forced to trade the Rumjacks for something that didn’t demand to be played at top volume. Much as she still wanted to stomp downstairs and give them a piece of her mind, she admitted flute and acoustic guitar were easier to tune out than electric guitar and bagpipes.

It could be the Van Burghs, wanting to lay down yet another law for her upcoming visit to their home. She shoved the spatula under the French toast with more force than necessary. One asshole had taken out one restraining order for an incident entirely unrelated to music or teaching, and she suddenly couldn’t be trusted to host students in her apartment.

The phone rang again. If it was the Van Burghs she ought to answer, might be closer to losing Katie as a student if she didn’t, but they’d expect her to speak calmly and agree to each new mandate they’d invented. Between the neighbors and what she’d learned the night before, she—

The night before.

Dad.

Her own voice played, followed by the beep of the answering machine.

“Miss Vanya.”

She froze, eggs sizzling in the pan. She’d dodged that voice for over ten years, but she’d know it anywhere.

“I am not certain if you heard last night’s broadcast. Perhaps you did, in which case I am sorry you didn’t hear of your father’s passing from one who knew him.”

Vanya straightened. There was no one around to toss her in prison for making the pan tremble and the picture frames adorning her walls shake, so she let them shake as she set the spatula aside.

“I know this may be a difficult time for you, Miss Vanya, especially if this is not the first you’re hearing of his death. But—“

She cleared the room in a few quick strides and snatched up the receiver. Pogo’s next words were bright with surprise.

“Miss Vanya! I confess I—“

Vanya slammed the receiver down as hard as she could.

The second came while Vanya was out coaching Katie through the Irish folk tunes she liked, and by the time she returned it was already several hours old. She returned the call, slamming the phone down at the sound of Mom’s voice.

Vanya went from one job to another, stopping back at her apartment when she needed rest or a bite to eat. Sometimes the phone rang while she was there, sometimes it did not. Slamming the phone down lost what little satisfaction it had carried, and she let the calls go. Her answering machine became an oral history of an event that had yet to occur. 

“I’ve not had the opportunity to speak with Master Klaus, although I am certain he shall be in attendance.” 

Naturally. Dad’s estate would probably lose half its value within the first forty-eight hours of Klaus’ return. 

“Hello, Vanya dear. Luther has just returned from the Moon.”

And she knew he couldn’t wait to brag about it. 

“Miss Allison has provided me with a few dates that would fit within her schedule. I’ll give them to you now….”

Ah yes, her schedule. At least Vanya wasn’t the only one in the family forced onto a therapist’s couch once a week. Were they on halfway speaking terms, Vanya might have called to say as much. 

“Diego told me he’ll be present at the memorial service. I’m certain he’d love to see both his sisters there.”

Vanya nearly chocked on mirthless laughter and fried rice. If Mom had to tell that particular lie about one of her siblings, Diego had to be the worst candidate—and then only by default. The true winner of that dubious honor hadn’t set foot in the Academy in sixteen years. Sixteen blessed years. 

She checked her calendar against the dates Allison had given, hoping to find a student on most of them, a therapy session on the rest. Instead, she found gaps that aligned. 

Of course, there was no need to call back. No need to let Pogo know she had space in her schedule to attend the funeral. She could simply let the dates come and go, allow her siblings to bury him or scatter his ashes or whatever he’d demanded they do with his body as they exulted in her absence.

He finally caught her while peeling garlic for the pasta she’d just added to the boiling water on the stove. She’d half a mind to ignore it, let him add his latest message to the tape she’d one day smash to dust, but he hadn’t stopped calling yet and showed no signs of slowing.

“Ah, hello, Miss Vanya.” No surprise in his voice this time. Only the same coolness she’d heard when caught in a lie. “I was wondering when I might find you in a free moment.”

“I’m not going, Pogo.”

“It was among your father’s last requests, Miss Vanya. He wished for all his children to lay him to rest.”

“Yeah, well, he’s dead, so I don’t see how he’s gonna make that happen.”

“Through certain…stipulations in his will, of which you will be made aware upon your return to the Academy.” 

“I don’t need his money.” 

“Money was not the sole focus of his will, Miss Vanya.” 

Vanya could have asked what he meant, should have asked what he meant, but the words stuck in her throat. For a moment, she was back at the Academy, sitting down to a bowl of oatmeal that she knew, from that glint in Dad’s eyes, would rob her of her powers for the day. That first bite was always the worst, the second and third no better. All of them threatened a gag. All of them had to be choked down. 

“What….” She fought to keep the words as even as possible. “What else did he put in it?” 

“You may learn this with your siblings following his memorial service.” 

Vanya gritted her teeth, but the sliver of anger she felt hadn’t yet grown enough to overtake the fear coiling in her stomach. She could still refuse to go. Stay home, try her hand at writing music again, bake cookies, maybe even schedule another student if she was lucky. But the question of what would happen if she didn’t—of what that will mandated be done to her if she didn’t—stood like a shadowy figure just beyond her sight. Were she to stay away, she’d find that question answered before she had time to defend herself. 

There was only one question to ask now. The only one Pogo would answer. 

“When is it?” 

*******

Delores was ecstatic. 

He’d jumped. Just a small one, just enough to get him from the Academy to the library’s surrounding neighborhood, but he’d done it. He’d jumped, and he’d done it without landing someplace worse than the one he’d escaped. Now he could get from one end of the city to the other. He could zip to the countryside to see if any edible plants had sprung up. He could go home. 

“There’s a big difference between a spatial jump and a time jump, Delores.” 

She didn’t care. A jump was a jump, and if he could manage one, he could manage the other. 

Usually when she spoke, there was a bit of chiding in what she said—drink more water, eat more food, test out that filtration system already, you’ve read the instructions and warnings a hundred times and no, you won’t poison yourself, just give it a try, will you? But this time, her every word was laced with excitement. Joy, even. 

“I already tried to go back. I—I don’t think you can go backward. Just forward.” 

He knew he ought to be scavenging—no matter how much food he set aside, no matter how carefully he rationed it, the cans always disappeared quicker than he wanted—but when Delores kept on about what might happen and what might be possible, he found himself back among what remained of the library’s stacks. Some books were gone, some left unreadable, but others remained whole. Enough remained whole. 

It took some doing to get to the section he needed. The Academy’s library hadn’t used the Dewey Decimal System, and navigating this one was a bit of a challenge without a librarian to guide him through the stew of numbers and letters, to say nothing of the stacks that no longer existed. But he found them. Against the odds, against the voice in the back of his mind telling him he should be doing something more useful, he found them—and sat down to read. 

Time travel gave rise to debate. Ignoring those who called it possible only within narrow limitations left Five with an abundance of theories and models, some of which were consistent with one another and some of which were not. Some claimed travel was possible in only one direction; others, which Five liked better, allowed for the intersection between a point in the future and a point in the past. While these didn’t outright say it was possible to jump from the latter to the former, the very act of drawing a line between them provided hope, however scant, that the line could be traversed in either direction.

He found a chalkboard and some chalk and took notes. He looked past the contradictions and found commonalities. Similar notions regarding the shape of time, whether linear or curved or somewhere between the two. Potential mechanics for stepping from one point to the other. Calculations acting as clairvoyance and steering all in one. They were just theories, of course, but theories crafted by brilliant physicists with more time than he to think through the ramifications of what he needed to do. Theories Dad had read. Theories he hadn’t paid much mind. 

“I did find a lot of food yesterday,” Five said when Delores remarked on the speed with which he’d filled the chalkboard. “But I need to save it.” 

He copied another equation from the journal article he’d found. The scratching chalk blended with Delores’ voice.

“Look, you’re the one who told me I should try to get back. I’m just working out the best way.”

The wind ruffled his pages as Delores spoke again.

“I can eat tomorrow. I’ll be—” 

She wasn’t finished. Five bowed his head, sighing, and plucked a can of beans from his collection. 

He found a few umbrellas and tarps, set them up around the chalkboard as he continued to read, tossing out aspects that contradicted his own limited experience and seizing on aspects that elaborated on what he knew. A theory of his own took root, burst through the ground, and sprouted leaves. Five watered it and sheltered it from the ash as best he could, but the shape was not one he favored.

There were some theorists who believed location irrelevant to time travel. If one could zip through time, they reasoned, surely one could pop up at any place one desired. But when Five had torn through one season and into another, the area around him hadn’t moved. Stores closed and snow fell, but he’d never left the street he started on. On the surface, it appeared one might always end up back where they began—that a jump from Christmas Eve to Labor Day would never deviate from the city in which the jump was made.

But the longer Five looked, the more evidence he saw for greater depth. He’d jumped without a clear destination in mind, only a desire to prove he could. No location. No specific point. And yet he’d wound up running along the same street. That could be coincidence—but it could suggest symmetry. If past and present could cross at certain points, perhaps that crossing could only occur at a point common to both. He’d seen it drawn as two lines intersecting, all four points extending out into perpetuity from one central hub. That point could simply mark a day and year—or it could mark a city, a street, a building. The closer one remained to the location where one began, the easier it might be to reach the time one wanted.

Unless his math was off, returning to his siblings meant returning to the Academy.

*********

Vanya stepped over the threshold and turned thirteen again.

The Academy had always felt too big for a family of their size. Seven was by no means a small number of children, but it seemed to take more time than necessary to get from the dining area to the courtyard, and late-night trips to the kitchen from her bedroom were often fraught with more danger than any trip to the fridge warranted. She’d considered telling Dad that they could have shaved a few precious minutes off preparation time for missions simply by living in a smaller house, but then she’d decided she didn’t care.

He hadn’t changed a thing since the day she’d left. The tile was still spotless, still shining faintly in what clouded daylight managed to enter the room, amplifying the gentle slap of her sneakers. White pillars supporting mahogany arches lacked any trace of dust. Wood panels gleamed, and she caught a whiff of oil soap. Three steps in and Vanya half-expected Dad to step out from the front room, demanding to know why she’d thought it appropriate to so flagrantly disregard the family’s schedule.

He was dead. Dust and ash. She’d never hear that voice again.

A few steps took her further into the entryway, close to the front room. As a teen, she’d tried to train herself not to look. She’d tried to keep her eyes forward, keep them on a book in her hand, keep them pointed away from the far wall. She’d tried jogging, she’d tried skirting toward the opposite side of the entryway, she’d tried avoiding the front door as much as Dad’s insistence on public appearances would allow. But in the end, she’d always looked—just as she looked now. 

Sure enough, Five gazed out from the confines of his portrait, one arm draped over a wooden railing. It was his expression that had always made Vanya want to tear the portrait from the wall—that solemn and thoughtful look, as though he contemplated the secrets of the universe while the photographer snapped his photo. If he had ever once worn that look of his own volition, Vanya hadn’t been there to see it. When he’d gazed at her, he’d always worn at least the ghost of a smile, smug and mischievous all at once. Guess what I did to your clothes? that smile said. Too late, it said.

The others had always laughed at his pranks. Laughed while she screamed. Laughed while Dad did nothing. That dignified frown, that pensive gaze—it belied what Five had truly been, beneath that facade. Dad should have seen it the day he ran, but instead he’d enshrined Five above the mantelpiece, honored his defiance and watched for his return. 

“Look who decided to show up.”

Vanya grit her teeth. She would have turned away as Diego descended the stairs, but she’d already been facing his direction and he wouldn’t take it without comment. “Need any help getting down the stairs?”

He smiled and continued at his leisurely pace. Vanya wasn’t sure which angered her more. “Oh, you wouldn’t do that. Not now.”

She’d expected a remark like this. Newspapers and tabloids alike had pounced on the story before she’d even left the police station. Not all of them had considered it front-page news, but even those that had pushed it back to page eight took pains to mention prior warnings, other incidents, turning it all into a saga of near-misses and eventual comeuppance. Diego would have read every single one of those stories, and Vanya had an inkling that if she visited his pitiful excuse for an apartment, she’d find he’d clipped them out and pinned each and every one of them to his fridge. Of course he knew. Of course he’d gloat. 

That didn’t stop a jolt of fear. 

He’d taunted her when they were younger, daring her to lash out with all the rage she had in hopes of forcing her to cross the arbitrary lines Dad had drawn and watching in glee as she reaped the consequences. But he’d done so from a distance. Left a note on her door. Stolen her favorite cereal. Sent Five into her room with a list. He’d mocked her openly, of course, but only when nothing else he’d tried had delivered the same satisfaction. 

“Prison won’t be the walk in the park you think it’ll be.” 

The officers who’d responded to past incidents had addressed her with confidence, but never threats. Nothing like what they’d told her at the station. She’d wondered then, and since, if they’d stumbled onto Dad’s secret. 

Diego may have been forcibly ejected from the police academy, but he hadn’t let that keep him from inflicting his company on the city’s officers. Between bouts of their ongoing game of catch and release, he’d have had time to drop a hint like that, and it would have been just like Dad to hand over the name of that medication to everyone but her. Vanya could just see him leaning over Patch’s desk, lowering his voice to say that he “might be able to help you solve a problem, if you’ll get me out of this one.” 

She watched him cooly trace a finger over the rim of the vase. It was nowhere near deafening, but in the quiet of the Academy, the gentle scrape of his skin against glass was enough to call to her. And in the quiet of the Academy, it would be enough to send him flying backward, enough to make him hit the furthest wall with a crack that was not only splintering wood. Enough to rip that confidence from him and replace it with terror. 

“Diego? Di—there you are. Luther wants to—” 

Allison halted. Her gaze landed on Diego only briefly, choosing instead to rest on her. The distance was too great for Vanya to read the finer nuances of her sister’s expression, but she’d seen the broad strokes of it before, when Dad walked into a room unexpected and unannounced. 

“Luther wants to meet in the common room,” Allison said, shifting her full attention back to Diego—a move that seemed to restore some of her composure. 

“He say why?” 

“No. Just seemed eager to get started.” 

“Fine.” Diego lifted his finger from the vase, but not before turning to Vanya and raising his eyebrows in an expression she couldn’t quite read. Then, with their eyes locked, he gave the glass a flick that sent a pure, hollow note ringing through the entryway. Allison gave her one last glance, and walked with Diego toward the common room. 

Not once. Not once had Allison spoken to her. Not once had Diego called attention to her presence. She had stood mere feet from the both of them, and neither had bothered to extend Luther’s invitation to her, preferring instead to walk off and leave her like some stranger, stranded in the entrance. 

Vanya waited until they’d disappeared around the corner, then gave them another minute or two. No one peered out and asked her if she was coming in. No one called her name. 

Paintings rattled on the walls as she turned on her heel and marched back toward the front door. Maybe Klaus asked if she was coming. Maybe Luther wondered what was taking her so long. Whatever they might have said was cut off by the slam of the door, and drowned out by a crack of thunder from overhead. 

*********

Five wasn’t sure where in the Academy he needed to stand, but he couldn’t venture toward the center. Not without that croaking voice calling to him again. He suppressed a shudder, but heard nothing aside from the wind. 

He released the handle of Delores’ wagon and read his notes again. He hadn’t spent as much time on them as he would have liked; enthusiasts loved to discuss time travel, and he could have spent years reading their theories and formulating his own. Instead, he’d spent weeks. 

“I should read some more,” he told Delores. 

He tried to focus his attention entirely on his notes, but her voice cut through his thoughts. 

“I don’t know how long we’ve got. Don’t even know if there is a window here.” 

His throat closed as she spoke again. If there was indeed a window through which he could step from present to past, it would be easier to slip through alone. Hanging onto the wagon, or even just Delores’ hand, could drag him down and keep him from stepping through the rift before it vanished. 

“I’m sorry, Delores.” 

Her voice was gentle, with no trace of anger. Sorrow, yes, but lacing encouragement. He was leaving, yes, but leaving for his family. Leaving for something better. 

Five embraced her. She couldn’t hug him back, he knew; but as he held her close, he thought she might want to. That if she could have held him as tightly as he held her, she would have done it without hesitation. 

He only pulled away at her urging. 

Five clenched fists, watched them glow blue, and pushed at the barrier separating past from present. When he’d tried before, it had been like pushing at reinforced concrete with his bare hands. Now, it was like pushing at cloth a foot thick. It didn’t quite yield to his touch, but it moved. He just needed to find a tear, or a gap beneath wide enough for him to shimmy through. 

He closed his eyes, concentrating on the barrier he couldn’t see. On his siblings. He thought of how he’d known them, and how they’d appeared when he found them, and didn’t much care which he got as long as they were alive. As long as they were breathing and healthy and walking around a world that was still intact under a sky that was still blue. He felt along the barrier, seeking out any weaknesses, any cracks he might turn into a tear. 

There. 

Five had no time to wonder where it might lead—only to grasp it in both hands and pry it apart. Maybe he’d step through and find himself back at home with Dad tapping his foot. Maybe he’d land three years or five years or ten years after he’d vanished, or twenty years before his birth. 

Or maybe his calculations were wrong. 

He could just as easily find himself alone in a place without his family. Without Delores. Not a world of burning buildings and falling ash, but a world of nothing. A world so far gone there was nothing left to burn, no plants left to overtake the ruined roads, no air left to breathe. Not merely a dead world, but a world where life was no longer welcome. If that was where he landed….

If that was where he landed, then it would be over. 

He gave one more tug, and the barrier gave.

It was like looking through a window shrouded in a haze of fog. There was a large square something that could have been the side of a building, a stretch of green and an expanse of grey. He would have laughed with joy, but the barrier already wanted to snap back into place. Seconds more and his concentration would no longer be enough. 

He lunged through. 

The headache took him immediately. It had found him during his first excursion through time, but he’d been able to think past it. Able to ignore it long enough to try and get back. Able to do more than sink to his knees as cold drops splashed onto his skin. 

A door slammed shut somewhere close by. Four figures appeared in the rain, drew close enough for him to make out shapes he thought he knew. Shapes he’d buried months ago. 

He tried to remain upright, just to watch the faces and see if he knew them, but the pain threatened to knock him over. Five curled on his side before it could, feeling the wet grass prickle his cheek and drops of water caress his aching head. 

“Oh my god.” 

It was a woman’s voice—not the inexplicably clear one of a mannequin that had learned to talk, but a real, human voice, dulled by distance and rain. Wherever he’d landed, whenever that was, both grass and humans had survived. 

“Is that—?” 

This one was closer than the last, a little clearer. Five knew he should sit up, but pain held him to the ground. 

“You…you guys see Number Five too, right?” 

Tears sprang to his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t his siblings, maybe it was only a search party Dad had organized in a rare moment of concern, or one that had organized of its own accord—but they knew his name. They’d seen him, they knew him, and they could match his name to his face even when that face was half-hidden by the ground. 

Someone knelt beside him; a hand touched his shoulder. 

“Five? Five, can you hear me?” 

A man’s voice, gruff but not unpleasant, unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Five almost didn’t want to look. If he looked, he could see a stranger staring back, a face that hadn’t been burned into his memory since the day he’d buried his siblings. 

He opened his eyes, turned his head just enough to see whoever was near. Blond hair cut short. Faint stubble sprinkled over a strong jaw. Shoulders wider than they should have been, hiding beneath an overcoat. Hands cloaked in fingerless gloves. Five had grasped those hands, tried in vain to pull their owner from the rubble. He’d covered that face with blighted earth and marked it with a stone. 

“Luther?” 

His mouth twitched upward toward a smile, though the corners didn’t quite make it. “Yeah. It—it’s me, Five.” 

Five’s throat closed. Tears spilled down his cheeks, washed away by the rain. He raised an arm to wipe them away, useless though it was, and found a hand beneath his shoulder, coaxing him to sit up, helping him rise—but it wasn’t Luther who smiled back at him. Her smile, so full of joy and sorrow all mingled together, sent a fresh round of tears cascading down. Allison pulled him close. 

“Shhhh shhhh shhhh.” She rubbed his back the way Mom would when he was sick, and he heard a catch in her voice. “It’s okay. It’s all right. We’ve got you.” 

He couldn’t speak. He wanted to, if only to show Allison he was fine and ease the worry in her voice, soothe the tears away, but he could only sob into her shoulder. Other hands patted his shoulders, tousled his hair, said small soothing things. 

Four siblings. Four voices. Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus. The four he’d found in the Academy. No Ben, but no Vanya. The house was still intact. The rain was natural. 

After a moment, Allison lifted her head. “Diego?” 

Diego stood. “I’ll get Mom.” 

Five raised his head, hoping to watch Diego as he disappeared into the Academy, but a flash of movement beside the door caught his eye. He followed it, and his breath caught in his throat. 

She’d stopped to grab an umbrella. Her dark hair was still dry, falling in pin-straight locks about her shoulders. A deep purple jacket was layered over a dark grey shirt, and she’d paired it with jeans and Converse shoes nearly soaked through. Five tensed, waiting for her to approach and stand beside, but she halted a yard or so away. Rain hammered a staccato beat against her umbrella. 

“Vanya.” Luther had gotten to his feet—though for what, Five couldn’t say. “Thought you’d left.” 

“Yeah,” she said, but her gaze didn’t land on Luther. Five felt it rest on him, and the weight of it made him shrink further into Allison’s arms. “Me too.” 

*********

Chapter Two

[thefangirlingdead]

If you’re still taking Klave prompts then...what about a propsal a fic cause I be soft for that kind in content??! (Also you’re setting is BEAUTIFULLLLL and such a gift 💕)

FUCK, ANON. This destroyed me. I meant for this to be super sweet and short and it ended up being super fucking long and tooth-rotting cute. I hope you enjoy. 

(I also posted it on my AO3 because why not)

Downtime in the midst of a war, even if just for a few minutes is a gift. It doesn’t happen frequently, but when it does, it finds soldiers slipping into comfortable habits even though they know it’ll be short lived. During downtime, most of them can be found outside smoking or huddled in a tent playing poker, chatting and reminiscing, telling funny stories or weaving tales from back home. Tonight in particular is no different, and that’s how the question comes up, uttered by one of the fresh-faced privates who arrived just a couple of months after Klaus:

“What are you going to do when you get home?”

At first, nobody answers, and the question hangs heavy in the air because honestly, all of them have seen too much in the past few weeks and months to even think about such a question. They all know that their chances of returning home without any life altering scars (physically ormentally), let alone returning home at all are slim to fucking none. So for a split second, it’s silent among the men in the tent, all of them too afraid to say anything, afraid to hold on to the hope that they’ll make it out of here alive and afraid to tell the new guy that he probably won’t, either.

That is, until Klaus Hargreeves speaks up.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m planning on getting so fucked up that I can’t walk straight.”

And just like that, the tension breaks. A few soldiers chuckle while another one - Anderson, who is always quick to give Klaus shit - teases, “How is that any different than now, Hargreeves?”

“Touché,” Klaus calls, pointing at Anderson from across the circle with his cards, uncaring if anyone sees his hand, “But I’ll have you know, that I can walk just fine right now, thankyouverymuch.”

“You know what I mean,” Anderson taunts back, which earns a chuckle from Klaus.

“Oh Mike, you think you’ve seen me fucked up, but you’ve got no idea, darling,” Klaus teases in response. Although the pet names didn’t sit well with the other soldiers for the first month or so - they were in the 60’s, after all - Klaus uses them so much and with everyone, that they really don’t phase anyone anymore.

“Come on,” Klaus pushes then, “What about the rest of you? Don’t lie and tell me that you’re not daydreaming of going home, eating a nice home-cooked meal from your momma and settling down with your high school sweetheart to have three-point-five kids and a golden retriever.”

“I just really want to finish college,” Romero, another one of the younger privates pipes up at last, offering a shrug when all eyes dart to him instead of Klaus. “I wanted to be a teacher.”

“The home-cooked meal sounds nice,” Carmichael adds with a smile. His comment in particular earns a few teasing remarks from the men sitting around the circle - even Dave gets a couple of jabs in - but eventually, they all end up agreeing that yeah, even shitty diner food sounds pretty damn good right now.

Across the room, even Corporal Barnett chimes in at one point, muttering out, “The first thing I’m going to do when I get home is marry my girl,” which earns a few nods of agreement from his fellow soldiers. And that’s how, within just a few minutes, the poker game quickly goes forgotten in favor of soldiers sitting around in the tent, telling stories of back home and sharing their hopes and dreams for when they finally make it out of this hellhole.

And Klaus knows deep down, than most of them probably won’t make it back, but it doesn’t hurt to hold on to a little bit of hope, right? He almost nudges Dave with his elbow at that thought to ask him what his plans are, but as he turns to his right, Klaus notices, with a pang in his chest, that Dave is no longer sitting next to him. In fact, he isn’t even in the tent anymore.

It takes a little bit of searching, once Klaus manages to find a way to slip out unnoticed as well, but eventually, he finds Dave sitting alone on the edge of camp, barely illuminated by dim lights and accented by the cherry of his cigarette and a thin swirl of smoke that curls up over his head and disappears into the night. In a weird way, this has kind of become a routine for them, sneaking away from the others like this to have just a few moments alone. So when Klaus plops down next to Dave in the dirt, an unlit joint in one hand and a flask in the other, he knows that the other man is expecting him.

“So what’s your plan?” Klaus asks in lieu of a greeting, fishing a lighter out from the breast pocket of his jacket.

Dave turns to glance at Klaus in the dim light, offering him a small, albeit confused smile. He was definitely expecting Klaus, but judging by his reaction, he wasn’t anticipating his question. “What do you mean?”

Klaus uses his lighter to motion back to camp. “In there, everyone was talking about their plan once they get out of here,” he mutters around the joint, waving the lighter in the air as he talks, “You didn’t say what yours  is. So, indulge me, mi amor.”

Dave can’t help but chuckle at Klaus’ mannerisms and his fond pet name. “You noticed that…”

“I did.” Klaus pauses to light the joint, taking a long hit and holding the smoke in his lungs just long enough for it to begin to burn slightly before exhaling. Then, he leans in a little, enough to bump his shoulder against Dave’s. “So…”

“So…” Dave echoes, and Klaus can tell that he’s stalling, that he’s trying to figure out what to say, so he gives him a little leeway. He offers Dave the joint, which Dave accepts without question, taking a hit himself before finally speaking.

“I’m not sure, actually,” Dave admits at last. “I mean… as you know, I had just moved back in with my parents before I was drafted, so I - well, I would like to do some traveling, but -”

“No buts,” Klaus interrupts. He reaches for the joint, which Dave hands over, before continuing, “In a perfect world, would would you want to do, when you get home?”

Klaus is careful to say when. Not if. No, Dave will be going home. There is no if.

“In a perfect world?” Dave repeats, and Klaus simply nods in response. And Dave actually seems to think about it for a few quiet moments before answering, giving Klaus a chance to take another drag, exhaling upwards into the night sky, relishing in the feeling of his body relaxing with each hit.

“I want to move somewhere new,” Dave says at last, his voice soft and wistful. Far away. He gazes off into the night as he speaks, “Somewhere I’ve never been… far away from my hometown. Maybe, somewhere secluded with some land where we could just be.”

We.

The implication of the word isn’t lost on Klaus. In fact, he latches onto the word almost as soon as it leaves Dave’s lips, but before he can interject, Dave is continuing, as if he didn’t just drop a fucking bomb into the conversation.

“I mean, I suppose in a perfect world, it wouldn’t matter where we are, but I think somewhere quiet would be nice,” he muses, “Somewhere away from the city, but close enough if you wanted to have a night on the town, you know?”

Dave turns to look at Klaus then, and Klaus’ voice catches in his throat at the sight. He can’t find the words to say, and even if he could, he’s pretty sure he couldn’t speak right now if he wanted to. Instead, he just holds his joint tightly between his index finger and his thumb, staring at Dave with wide eyes.

When Dave just looks at him expectantly, though, as if anticipating a response, Klaus croaks out, “We?”

Dave smiles in response, and fuck, his smile is enough to bring Klaus to his knees, to light up a room, to melt his heart. It’s such a simple little thing, but it brings Klaus’ world crashing down around him and also makes him feel fucking invincible.

“Yeah, we,” Dave murmurs. “I mean… you said in a perfect world and well, in a perfect world, I’d want to build a home and start a life with the person I love.”

And god, Klaus is usually so good at masking his emotions, at appearing flippant and blasé about everything and hiding behind humor and crassness, but Dave’s words are so unexpected and disarming that they catch him off guard. Klaus has no control of his mouth when he simply just repeats, numb, “The person you love.”

Unfortunately, Klaus’ shock seems to give Dave the wrong idea and almost immediately, he begins to backpedal, his face falling. “Well, I mean, shit,Klaus. We haven’t really talked about it - what this is but, I mean… I thought it was obvious.”

I thought it was obvious. The words hit Klaus like a truck.

“That you love me,” Klaus mutters, his own voice sounding very far away in his own ears.

Klaus is no stranger to those words, but, well… he isn’t really used to people meaning them. Not like Dave appears to mean them right now. Sure, others have uttered those words to Klaus before, but never in the way that Dave says them.  They were gasped in moments of passion, or exclaimed when Klaus decided to be generous and share whatever he managed to score with an acquaintance at a party, or even muttered when he did a favor for one of his siblings when they were kids… but never like this.

Now, sitting here next to Dave, Klaus knows that this is different.

Dave clears his throat. “I do,” he says very matter-of-factly, but is quick to add, “But if you don’t feel the same way, it’s okay. I know it was forward of me to assume, and we haven’t even properly discussed what this is and -”

“I would like that,” Klaus says at last, his voice quiet when he interrupts Dave, before he can finish his thought. He really doesn’t know what else to say, and it’s shitty and awkward, but it’s a start.

Klaus takes a long drag of his joint to mask his nerves and give himself a moment to think while Dave struggles to catch up.

“You… you would?” Dave asks after a beat of silence, as if he can’t believe it.

“Yeah,” Klaus mutters, shrugging. “You know… a little house in the woods, maybe a couple of pets. A quiet life. It would be a nice change of pace.”

Dave swallows then, shifting to face Klaus a little better. Somehow, the conversation has turned into something much more than just daydreams, and it requires much more attention than they were previously giving it. “Well, if we make it out of here, I’ll make good on that, then,” he says at last, “If that’s what you want.”

And Klaus, never one to avoid humor in serious situations, mock gasps at Dave, a hand on his chest. “Davey, are you trying to make an honest man out of me?”

Apparently, it’s just what the doctor ordered. Dave laughs at that, the tension bleeding out of him. “Yeah, I think I am,” he mutters, and then, he’s reaching forward, his hand finding its place at the back of Klaus’ neck before they’re kissing. It’s nothing over-indulgent, just a brief press of lips in the dark, hyper aware of their peers not far from them, but it’s much needed.

When they part, Klaus grins up at Dave, his eyes glinting, even in the dim light. “I hope you know that when we get married, it’s going to be the wedding of the century.”

51 years, 7 months and 13 days later

Eventually, Dave makes good on his promise to Klaus. Although it happens about fifty years after he initially planned it - after he is catapulted into the future and forced to save the world alongside Klaus and his superpowered siblings - he makes good on his plan to move somewhere far away and secluded and start a life with the person he loves. He makes good on that promise to make an honest man out of Klaus Hargreeves, even though just the idea of it sounds like taming a wild animal.

It isn’t necessarily a small little house in the woods like they had initially discussed, but it is a secluded, modest place just a few hours outside of the city, their closest neighbor about a mile down the road. They find the place and move in almost a year after they save the world - a year after Klaus brings him to the future - and it’s everything that Dave wanted and then some. Granted, he never knew that he wanted to travel into to future to be with the man he loves, but he’s not surprised. There was always something special about Klaus, something that Dave knew that he’d follow him to the ends of the earth for.

Although, there was another part to that promise that Dave hasn’t addressed. It was unspoken, really, but he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it ever since Klaus mentioned it only six months into knowing one another, six months into their time in Vietnam together.

When we get married, it’s going to be the wedding of the century.

Dave was certain that it was just a pipe dream back then, just wishful thinking, in a perfect world , but then suddenly, it’s 2020 and he’s buying a little house upstate with Klaus, and that little dream, that comment that Klaus made just a couple of years ago - or over 50 years ago, depending on how you look at it - seems a lot more realistic. It’s 2020, and Dave still has a hard time believing that gay marriage is legal. In fact, it takes Klaus dragging him to pride that first summer to truly convince him and show him just how much has changed.

Honestly, Dave has been planning on asking Klaus to marry him for a while, but it’s a lot easier said than done. Sure, he could just get down on one knee after a romantic night out, or maybe on their anniversary (Klaus loves the strange looks that he gets when he brags that they’ve been together for over fifty years) but that doesn’t seem good enough. No, Dave knows that Klaus is a man of grand gestures and has a flair for the dramatic, so he wants to do something big, something really nice for him, but he just doesn’t know what. And that’s why he’s in his current predicament.

He’d ask Ben, but Klaus can only manifest him when he’s nearby, and he can’t really have a conversation with Ben about how to ask Klaus to marry him  when Klaus is present. So he buys the rings fifty-one years, five months and two days after he makes that promise to Klaus in Vietnam, but he sits on them for over two months, unsure of how to bring it up, what to do or how to say it.

And then, one morning, it just hits him.

Klaus is a hard man to predict. Some mornings, he’s up at the crack of dawn, banging pots and pans around in the kitchen, making breakfast without being prompted and bringing it to Dave where he lays in bed, crawling over him and kissing him sweetly until he finally wakes. And others, he’s impossible to wake and honestly rather grouchy when he finally drags himself out from under the covers. Dave thinks that those days, he wouldn’t even get up if the house was on fire.

And then some mornings, Klaus opts to lounge in bed, pulling Dave close so he can’t get up, insisting sweetly, “just five more minutes,” which turns into another hour of drifting in and out of sleep, cuddling and eventually, sleepy kisses that devolve into sighs of pleasure, tangled limbs and Klaus proclaiming that morning sex just might be his favorite kind of sex.

This morning in particular is shaping up to be one of those mornings.

It’s a lazy Sunday and Dave wakes at around ten in the morning, but Klaus is quick to pull him close before he can even think about climbing out of bed, sleepily whining something about wanting to spend all day in bed along with, “just stay for a few more minutes.” But of course, a few minutes quickly turns into half an hour, which turns into Klaus peppering sleepy kisses on Dave’s lips, fingers running gently through his hair, and honestly, who would Dave be to stop him?

However eventually, soft kisses eventually turn into more solid presses of lips, which turn into teeth and tongue and Klaus sighing softly into Dave’s mouth, body rocking gently against his in bed. And that eventually turns into Klaus shifting to straddle Dave’s hips, Dave’s hands sturdy on his thighs, palms sliding up and down exposed skin, fingers hooking  under the waistband of his ridiculously bright underwear. And god, Klaus is going to be the death of him, but Dave is never one to deny him, especially when he’s got Klaus’ lithe body pressed up against his own, the sweet little noises working their way out of his throat and -

And suddenly, Dave’s thoughts are cut short when Klaus sits up abruptly, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Fuck, I wanna ride you,” Klaus mutters in a form of explanation as he shifts, moving to pull his underwear off, but surprisingly, Dave’s thoughts aren’t focused on the dirty words leaving Klaus’ lips, nor the way his body moves beneath his hands or even the arousal pooling in his own stomach.

No, instead, he can’t focus on anything but the way that the sheets drape around Klaus’ strong shoulders and the way late morning light paints stripes across his fair skin through the blinds. He can’t focus on anything but the way that Klaus’ green eyes shine when he looks down at him, and the sleepy, easy smile that finds its way onto his face when he catches Dave staring. And suddenly, it just hits Dave.

Holy shit, he wants to marry this man.

Klaus moves to shimmy out of his underwear, but Dave stops him with a hand on his waist. “Klaus wait -”

Klaus pouts slightly at Dave’s gentle request, but to his defense, he doesn’t move. “Aww come on, this was just about to get good,” he begins to protest, but when he spies the serious, concentrated look on Dave’s face, he steels himself, asking, “What is it?”

And fuck . All words are lost on Dave. He doesn’t know how to ask or what to say, but he knows in his heart that he needs to do this right now. It isn’t a grand gesture, but it’s perfect.

So, after a deep breath and a quick internal pep-talk, Dave closes his eyes and says softly, “I want to marry you.”

When he opens his eyes again, it’s to find Klaus smiling down at him, his emerald eyes filled with love and - a little bit of surprise. He sits up a little straighter, the sheets slipping off of his shoulders and pooling around his waist, and Dave follows suit, propping himself up on his hands so that he’s almost eye-level with the man in his lap.

Klaus reaches forward then, placing his hand gently on Dave’s cheek. “Dave,” he murmurs sweetly, then, “Davey…”

But before Klaus can say anything else sweet or teasing or derail the conversation, Dave continues, “I’m serious, Klaus. I - you know that conversation we had, a few years ago about… you know, perfect worlds and what I’d want to do when I got home and -”

“Yeah,” Klaus cuts him off, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Well, that included spending the rest of my life with the person that I love. And that’s you,” Dave explains. “So, will you marry me?”

And, for the first time in his life, even if it’s just for a few seconds, Klaus is rendered speechless. He gapes for a moment, staring at Dave as if he can’t believe the words that just came out of his mouth before he seems to come back to himself, a small smile spreading across his face. “Aren’t you supposed to get down on one knee?” he asks softly.

“You’ve never been a conventional person,” Dave teases gently, “Why start now?”

“And rings,” Klaus continues, “Aren’t you supposed to have a ring?”

“Bedside table,” Dave offers with a smile, “There’s a little box in there, hiding under some papers. I’ve been waiting until the time was right and -”

“You decided that the time was right when we were just about to fuck?” Klaus asks incredulously, but his grin only widens as he speaks. He’s certainly not bothered by it, and only seconds later, he’s leaning over, knees still bracketing Dave’s hips as he pulls the drawer open and rummages around until his fingers find the small, velvet box. Dave can tell when he finds it by the way he pauses, eyes going unfocused for just a split second, and just like that, the mask drops.

Sure, he loves Klaus’ sense of humor and his ability to make light of any situation, but he also loves him like this: emotional and vulnerable and open.

Drawing the box out of the drawer, Klaus hesitates for only a moment, his eyes darting to Dave’s face as if for permission before he opens it, his jaw dropping slightly at the sight, as if he doesn’t quite believe it.

Dave smiles, and it’s this gentle, hesitant thing. Klaus certainly looks happy, but he also hasn’t said anything since he laid eyes on the rings, and Dave can’t stop himself before he’s saying, “I know it’s not some grand gesture, and I’m sure you wouldn’t mind a big musical number or a few wardrobe changes or -”

“It’s perfect,” Klaus mutters, his voice barely loud enough to hear. And when he looks up at Dave again, his eyes look wet, as if they’re brimming with tears. “You’re perfect. Shit, I love you Dave.”

“So, is that a yes?” Dave asks, a teasing hint to his voice, and just like that, the moment breaks. When Klaus laughs, a few tears escape his eyes, trickling down his cheeks and landing on Dave’s chest, but they’re happy tears. They’re yes tears.

“Yeah,” Klaus murmurs, nodding his head frantically, “Yes, yes. Jesus, Dave, of course.”

Before Dave can say anything else Klaus is leaning down, the velvet box set aside in the sheets, and taking Dave’s face in his hands, pressing a wet, passionate kiss to his lips. The kiss doesn’t last long, though, quickly evolving into gentle pecks, relieved laughter and words of adoration. Before long, Klaus is wrapping his arms around Dave’s shoulders, burying his face in his neck, and Dave can practically feel his smile, burned into his skin for all of eternity, like a tattoo on his heart.

Then, Klaus is laughing against him, and before Dave has the chance to ask what’s so funny, he’s muttering against his skin, “I don’t know whatpossessed you to propose in the middle of morning sex, but this is the best cockblock ever.”

And god, he loves the ridiculous man in his lap. He’s loved him since the moment he laid eyes on him. He has loved him for what feels like a lifetime and then some, and now, he’s going to marry him.

“I love you, Klaus,” he murmurs at last, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple, and Klaus only squeezes him tighter.

“I love you too,” he replies quickly, god, Dave thinks, they’ve come a long way since that night in Vietnam.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Lena, Number Eight [Part 2 of ?]

Continued from Part 1

Lena doesn't plan to go back. 

Seeing Hargreeve's face on every news channel dredges up every nightmare she's tried to stuff away, and the last thing she wants to do is return to the house where everything started.

But his executor contacts her office with notice that she’s named in the old man's will.

It’s still not quite enough to change her mind, but it moves her close enough to the line that when Kara weighs in, she doesn’t have far to push. 

"These are the people you grew up with,” Kara points out, “at least for a time.” She gazes at Lena with soft eyes and a softer smile. “Don’t you want to know who they’ve become?"

She sounds so hopeful that Lena can't bring herself to admit that they were never really her family at all. Or that she started keeping tabs on all of them the moment the Umbrella Academy disbanded, if only to know that they remained very far away from her.

Lena agrees to go, but on one condition: Kara comes with her.

Kara readily agrees, eager glimpse the enigma that is Lena Luthor. As long as they’ve known each other, and as close as they are, Lena’s connection to Hargeeves was a complete surprise. Lena had never hinted, and it all drives home the fact that Kara doesn’t know a single thing about Lena’s past except what she’s read in the papers. She’s as hungry for details as she is desperate to provide Lena the support she needs.

When they finally land in Metropolis, Kara’s not quite prepared for how grey the city is. Or how large the Academy is. It takes up an entire city block, and looms tall over the surrounding buildings. Inside, it’s just as gloomy, full of old world decor and coated in the dust of a forgotten era. 

Lena strides in with her shoulders square and chin high. Her heels click against the marble floors, and the sound announces their entrance to the four figures already huddled in the lounge. As one, they all turn to face Lena with varying degrees of surprise.

"Whoa," says one with dazed hooded eyes and curly hair. He gives an exaggerated blink. "Anyone else seeing this?"

"Hello to you too, Klaus," Lena returns, chin high. "And yes, I'm alive, if that's what you're wondering."

"It might be what he's wondering," says another, a man with sharp features clad in dark leather and... knives? He turns to face Lena head on, bristling for a fight. "But the rest of us are wondering what the hell you're doing here."

"Diego..." The only other woman in the room tilts her head chidingly. Something about her seems familiar, and tickles at the back of Kara's mind. 

Lena doesn't seem fazed by the man's aggression. Nor is she impressed by the blades he holds in each hand. Her only reaction is to lift the executor's note, sandwiched casually between two fingers.

"I was summoned,” she replies drolly. She tucks her hand back into her pocket.

Kara recognizes her stance. It’s the one she uses to exude confidence and ease-- regardless of how she felt. Even Kara never knew what was behind her mask until the moment passed, and Lena let the facade slip. Sometimes she was just fine. Others, not so much.

"And what?” Diego pushes, features souring into a sneer. “You thought you’d stop by for a quick payday?”

Kara bristles at the insinuation, but Lena only smirks.

"That's cute," she purrs.

The familiar woman speaks up again. "Diego--"

"What? If she thinks she can just waltz in here like she owns the place, looking for a handout, she’s got another thing coming!"

"She's a Luthor,” comes the low response. “She doesn’t need a handout.”

The last figure among them steps into the pale light filtering in through a dirty window. Kara tenses when she realizes that he’s head and shoulders above the rest of the already tall family, and twice as wide.

The hulking figure lumbers to a stop, regarding Lena solemnly. “She could own this place, if she wanted.”

He meets Lena’s gaze, and Lena holds it completely unaffected by his intense study. “Lena.”

“Luther.”

A tiny smirk curls the man’s lips. “Hope that didn’t get too confusing for you in your new place.”

“Not in the slightest.”

Lena’s tone remains lofty, to the point of dismissive. Luther’s smirk fell away, challenge thwarted by an afterthought.

Kara watched them all carefully, and kept quiet as Lena turned her gaze to the woman who’d come to her defense. “Hello, Allison.”

"Hi, Lena." The woman grins, and with a jolt Kara realizes she's looking at THE Allison Hargreeves. "It's been a long time."

"Not long enough."

Klaus snorts from his position on the couch. "I like her."

To Kara's surprise, it's that small comment that brightens Lena's smile. 

A large, hulking man lumbers forward, gaze hard. "And the plus one?"

"A friend... and moral support."

Kara shuffles closer, wordlessly granting Lena the reassurance of her presence. The figures around her all feel large and imposing-- she doesn't know how much help she can be, but she's there and she's staying. 

"Well, then," says a new voice, older and gentler than the rest. Kara turns, and nearly swallows her tongue at the sight of an upright chimpanzee walking towards them. He smiles at her and Lena in welcome. "It seems we can begin."

The others settle in, but Lena casts another glance around the room. "Where's Vanya?"

Diego scoffs. "Who cares?"

"She should be here," Lena counters.

"Why should she?"

Lena blinks, clearly shocked by the cold rebuff. "Are you still twisted about the damn book--?"

"Fuck the book!” Diego snaps, gesturing with the point of the knife he held in his palm. “And fuck you too. This is family business--"

"Business for which Mr. Hargreeves requested Miss Luthor's presence, Diego. Please, show some respect."

The chimp-- man?-- creature?-- turns his stern glare from Diego to Lena, and softens noticeably. "I am glad you're here, my dear."

Lena shrugs her eyebrows with a light sigh. "That makes one of us. Let's just get on with it."

"She shouldn't be here any more than Vanya should be!" Diego counters, gesturing sharply. "She isn't one of us! She doesn't even have powers!"

Silence rang out in the wide room, as the occupants freeze. Kara freezes right along with them.

"Excuse me?"

Lena’s voice is low, and just this side of dangerous.

"You heard me! You lost your powers and got packed off because you couldn't hack it at the academy without them, and now you've come crawling back, maybe not for money, but for something. Whatever it is, you're not gonna get it, because you are NOT part of this family."

"Diego..." Allison’s warning falls on deaf ears.

Diego closes in on Lena, gaze dark and predatory. Lena doesn’t budge, meeting his glare inch for inch even as Diego’s pointing finger glints with the blade still tucked in his palm.

“Whatever it is you came here for, Miss Luthor, you are not going to get it. You aren’t one of us-- and you.. aren’t... family.”

He punctuates with one jab too many, takes one step too close.

Lena doesn’t so much as blink when Diego is flung away from her, plucked away by an invisible hand that send him flying until his back slams into the far wall. He hangs there, grunting for breath under an immense and invisible pressure that pins him by the chest with his feet dangling three feet off the floor.

Kara’s heart jumps to her throat as the room suddenly seems to plummet.

It takes her brain a long moment to realize the room isn’t sinking, but that the items in it are lifting. Anything not breathing or bolted to the floor slowly rises, and hovers steadily while the rest of the Hargreeves stare in awe.

Luther recovers first.

“Put him down--!” His charge towards Lena halts with a single glance-- he freezes in place, as stuck as Diego.

Kara stares. First at him, then at Lena, who casts a calm gaze around the room.

"Reginald Hargreeves was lot of things," Lena delivers smoothly, “but honest wasn't one of them."

She has yet to remove her hands from her pockets. Her placid calm takes several moments for Kara to realize that the invisible force holding Diego and the room aloft is somehow Lena.

Normal, human Lena, gripping a man by the throat without lifting a finger. Kind, gentle Lena, whose invisible grip lifts Diego’s forgotten knife, dropped in the commotion. It spins lazily in the air, and floats so close it nearly nicks the tip of his nose.

When he swipes at it, his hand ends up pinned to the wall next to his head.

"You might have grown up, Diego, but you're still small."

The knife jabs forward, driving point first into the wall beside Diego's head. He yelps, and then drops into a heap, released from Lena's grip. The rest of the room returns to its rightful place in a more controlled descent, before slamming the last inch in a petulant clatter.

"We're done here."

She pivots smoothly, and departs, Kara close on her heels

"But you haven't even heard what he left you!" Klaus exclaims, wholly unconcerned by Diego's slow rise back to his feet, or the fact he’d been riding a floating couch for the last thirty seconds.

Lena doesn’t respond. She doesn’t slow until Allison’s voice calls after them.

“Lena, wait! Please, just-- wait.”

To Kara’s surprise, Lena slows to a stop. Kara hangs back, willing to let Lena face her almost-sister alone, but not without backup.

Allison’s gaze bounces between them. The smile she gives Kara is cursory before she focuses her attention on Lena. “I’m sorry about them.”

“I’m sure.”

"It's actually really good to see you." Lena doesn't respond. "I'd hoped we'd run into each other, after I left, but it turns out you're pretty hard to get a hold of."

"That's by design."

"I know it's been a long time, but... I've never forgotten you."

Lena huffs, rolling her eyes. 

"It's true!" Allison insists. "You got out! You got to see the world, have a real family, real friends. There were so many times I wished I’d been adopted too.”

The foyer sits quiet around them when Lena fails to respond. Allison twists her hands together, nervous. “And it got lonely sometimes, growing up with so many brothers. I know it’s been a long time, but… there’s not many people who understand what this place was like. I’ve missed having another sister."

Lena regards Allison for a long moment, features and shoulders smooth as stone. When she smiles, it’s without mirth.

"I wasn't adopted, Allison,” she delivers coolly. “I was sold.”

Kara’s stomach plummets, a sour taste climbing up her throat. All the way here, she’d tried to prepare herself. She’d reasoned that if Lena’s childhood was a good one, she would have shared more of it sooner. But the confirmation of something dark and terrible makes her throat lock tight.

“And as far as sisters go…”

Allison stares at her, gaze edging on hopeful. 

"You already have one. Did you even call her when your dad died?”

Her only answer is Allison’s downcast eyes and guilty shuffle. 

“Yeah.” Lena’s features curl in a cold smile. “I’ll pass.”

This time when Lena leaves, no one stops her.

[wykart]

Does it Matter (It’s Klaus)

Part 2 of Fifty-one years (and one day) later (read on ao3)

Summary: The truth comes out, and Klaus must come to grips with the fact that his entire life of happiness with Dave was taken away by his own brother.

Chapter 5: Playing on (chpt. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5)

1 day, 17 hours

Vanya was in the hospital waiting room when Diego found her. She was on edge, playing the events of the previous night over and over in her head. That anger, that fear, building and building as the noise of the engine rattled and roared, consuming her, filling her with energy and then... spilling over. Surging out in a tidal wave. She wished she had her pills, something to take away the tumultuous emotions she was feeling, the guilt, the fear, her shameful sense of pride at what she was, what she’d been all along. Special. She wished she could make it stop.

“Vanya!” She turned to see him, Diego, jogging down the hall in that ridiculous vigilante get up. What the hell was he doing here? “Are you okay, did he hurt you?”

He sounded out of breath, and scared. It wasn’t often that her brother showed fear. “I’m fine.” She said, taken aback. “Diego, what the hell are you doing here?”

“Allison and I were on our way to get you when I picked up the report on my radio, something about an attack at a bar close by, the description sounded like you so I came right away. We have to get you back to the academy, now.”

“W-wait a minute, why were you coming to get me? You guys didn’t want anything to do with me yesterday.”

“Yeah well, that was before we found out your boyfriend is a psycho murderer.”

“What!” She exclaimed. Then it all made sense. Allison was trying to play big sister again, and now she’d roped in her over-protective brothers as well. “Is Allison the one doing this? She needs to get off my case, god I can’t believe you guys.”

Diego looked puzzled. “You mean, he hasn’t hurt you or anything?”

“No, of course not. He was just taking me out on a trip to the lake. We went out for dinner last night and got jumped by some crazies and…” She didn’t know what to tell him. There was no denying it now, though, she had power, power that she didn’t understand let alone know how to control.

“But the police report said two of them were dead. You telling me that wasn’t him?”

“No it was... I don’t remember okay. But I’m fine, I don’t need to go back to the city. I need to stay with Leonard, he hasn’t woken up yet and I…” She trailed off, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of his room.

“Vanya, look.” Diego held out a file brimming with paperwork, stamped with the name Harold Jenkins. Skeptical at first, she took a closer look. It was Leonard, he’d been released from prison just a few months ago.

Diego went on to tell her about what they’d found in his house. The old umbrella academy memorabilia, scratched out eyes, melted heads. All the while, Vanya could feel that power building inside her, and she struggled to keep it pushed down. The rows of fluorescent lights on the ceiling flickered and faltered, dimming the clinical white of the hospital hall. The air felt heavy, alive, answering to her emotions. “We thought he was going to hurt you,” Diego continued, "and Five says that this guy right here,” he pointed at Leonard’s unflattering mugshot, “is going to cause the apocalypse.”

“Ok but Five is-“ She felt awful saying it. When they were kids, they’d tell each other everything, but what Five had confided in her that night had been, well, insane. “He’s deranged. He says he’s been alone for nearly fifty years, and he’s clearly not himself right now.”

“I know it’s difficult to believe, but you’ve missed a lot these past few days.”

“Right, and who’s fault is that? I’m the one who’s a liability.”

“Look,” he smirked, averting her gaze, “I’m sorry Vanya, but you need to trust me now. Allison is back at Jenkins’ grandma’s house, we split up to try and find you. You should head there right away, I’ve got something I need to do.” Diego looked off in the direction that Vanya had glanced over at earlier. She wondered what he was thinking of doing.

“Where’s Five now?”

“He said he’d meet us here with Klaus and Luther, but I don’t think they expected us to find you so fast. I’ll tell them to hold off if they haven’t left yet, save them the trouble. There a phone somewhere here?” She pointed him towards the wall-mounted landline just outside the waiting room. He went over and dialled the number of the academy while Vanya stood against the wall, trying to catch her breath. She clutched the police file in her hand, the grainy mug shot of the man she’d been coming to love clipped to the front. Harold Jenkins... she couldn’t believe it. Even if he was a murderer, he’d been thirteen, that didn’t mean he still wanted to hurt people now. It made sense for him to want a fresh start after all that. She herself had often wondered if she should shed the Hargreeves name, given the infamy and memories, associated with it.

Vanya heard a deep, muffled voice on the other end - Luther. She couldn’t make out what he was saying. “Five? What about him,” Diego muttered, “shit.”

The urgency in his voice piqued Vanya’s attention. “What? What is it?” She leant closer to the receiver and managed to make out Luther’s words.

“Is that Vanya?” He asked.

“Yeah, we got her, she’s safe.”

“Thank god,” he sighed.

“We’ll be there soon, okay big guy? Mom knows her stuff, he’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, “just be here, okay?” Diego hung up, and turned to see Vanya looking at him with wide, incredulous eyes.

“It’s Five,” he said, already barging past her. “He’s hurt, b-bad.”

“Shit. What happened?” She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him again, despite how strange and distant he’d been since he’d come back.

“I don’t know, Luther didn’t say but I’ll bet it has something to do with this incoming apocalypse.” His movements were rapid, pacing and twitching around on the spot. He was worried. “I’m going to get Allison from the house and we’re going back to the academy. You’re coming too.” There was no arguing with him, she realised. But she was still going to try.

“I’m not just going to leave Leonard here!”

“Harold.” He reminded her, impatient.

“I don’t care! He’s... I...”

“You what.” I love him. She couldn’t bring herself to say it. “Listen, you don’t think he was trying to use you to get close to us? He wants us dead, Vanya, all of us. He doesn’t love you.” She whimpered, and for a moment Diego looked like he might apologise, then his mouth hardened into a line and he clapped her on the shoulder. “Come on, Five needs us.”

…

They caught a taxi up to the house, which Vanya had to pay for. Despite all his conspicuous pockets, Diego only seemed to carry knives. Allison came running out of the house as the taxi pulled up the driveway, and she tackled Vanya with a force almost enough to knock her over as Allison pulled her into a hug.

“Oh Vanya, I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Err, thanks Allison. I’m fine, though, you don’t have to –“ she pulled back from her sister’s embrace, giving her an awkward pat on the shoulder.

“We need to get going, now,” Diego muttered, clambering out of the taxi. He gave the driver a dismissive wave, and he started pulling out of the driveway, looking bewildered. “Five’s hurt.”

“What!” Allison cried, over-acting as always. She nodded, composing herself. “Well I’ve found something too,” she pulled a familiar red book out from behind her. “Dad’s journal.”

“What the hell was it doing here?” Vanya asked, but she already knew. Just another nail in the coffin. Leonard had been using her, and the one thing in her life she thought was her own, had really been about the umbrella academy. It was always about the umbrella academy.

“So he was reading up on us, getting to know our weaknesses.” He glared at Vanya, “between this and your autobiography he’d have quite the arsenal.”

Allison shot him a dangerous look. “We can work all this out in the car, we need to get back to the academy.’

As the other two moved towards the vehicle, Vanya remembered something. “Wait,” she called, “I need my violin.”

“Already in the trunk,” Allison smiled, “let’s go.”

…

Vanya sat in the backseat on the ride back to the city, during which Diego and Allison were uncharacteristically quiet. She poured over the pages of her father’s journal, that elongated, scrawled hand of his. He was always scribbling in this book, writing down times during her sibling’s exercises, taking measurements, scrawling notes about observations from his latest experiments. She wasn’t featured on many of the pages, which was to be expected, of course, but at the beginning of the book, the notes that were taken early in her childhood, many of her father’s entries were entitled ‘Number 7.’

June 5th, 1990

Number 7 may be responsible for some low-level phenomena. Minute changes in temperature and malfunctioning electrical appliances. Strong aversion to noisy environments. She is the first of the subjects to show any promise.

Ever since she was a child, and she’d been the most “promising” of them all.

July 23rd, 1992

Incredible, simply incredible! Number 7 continues to show heightened brain function and response to audio stimulus. Her potential is unmatched by that of the other subjects –

She kept on flicking through, not knowing how to feel. All her life, she’d been lied to. Was she really that dangerous?

October 2nd, 1993

Number 7 continues to excel in her training, though her childish temperament is less than ideal. She is beginning to understand and hone her powers, using them for her personal gain. It is only natural, but if I cannot contain her, she may prove… problematic.

October 4th, 1994

That’s the third one dead this week. The hiring agency is beginning to ask questions, and I fear that it’s only a matter of time before the girl turns on me as well. She has little interest in my guidance, and the child is unruly, distant, even among her siblings.

She was a killer, ever since she was four years old… she shuddered to think of what she was capable of now. She’d only been off her medication for a few days, and already she felt this power deeply-rooted inside her, laying dormant all these years. It was hungry.

January 12th, 1995

I have constructed a chamber that renders Number 7 powerless. The environment causes the girl much discomfort. The disconnect from her abilities makes her agitated and sickly. Her power is too great for me to contain. I have been developing a counter measure, a medication that should help to level her head – thought it will have side-effects.

She’d been living with those effects as long as she could remember. That feeling like the world was moving too fast, the numbness in her brain, the exhaustion, the quiet misery she never quite understood… it was because a part of her was missing.

September 7th, 1995

Number 7 has been sedated these past few months, and so far has shown no sign of her usual abilities. She is far quieter now, subdued. It may become necessary to increase her dosage as she develops. I must keep the girl, though she will likely be of no further use to me. I must be watchful of her, in the hands of others her power could be let loose, and the results could be… cataclysmic.

The passage was circled in red marker. Leonard.

October 1st, 1999

Without her powers, Number 7 has no discernable talents. Some enthusiasm for music, but mediocre skill – can barely even hobble through a Paganini caprice. Utterly useless.

And that was it, the final entry, after four years of silence. Vanya felt tears sting her eyes. She hadn’t noticed it as she’d been reading, but the sky outside had turned from sunny blue to grey. Rain was trickling down, spotting the windows with clear droplets, as did the tears on her cheeks. Leonard, Harold – she reminded herself – had planned to use her like some sort of weapon, and she’d fallen for it. Who knows what would have happened if Diego hadn’t found her when he did, before Harold had a chance to whisk her away again. She had to talk to Five, he’d know what to do, he always did.

…

1 day, 16 hours

“Five, oh god, Five!” She yelled, seeing him laying there, it kicked her mind into high-gear.  He looked so small on the surgical bed, flesh blue and swollen. Grace stood beside him, a crisp apron strung around her waist, and a tray of intricate metal tools balanced on one of her arms.

She smiled, despite the situation. “Hello there, Vanya, so lovely to see you.”

“Is he gonna be okay?” She stood over him, trying to see whether his chest was rising and falling, if only gently.

“He’ll make it,” Grace said, suddenly sombre.

“Oh thank god.” She whispered, sitting down in a plastic chair beside the bed, head in her hands. Luther was standing awkwardly in the corner of the room, head down. Allison stepped over to stand behind Vanya and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Who the hell did this to him?” Diego asked, “those psychopaths that attacked the house?”

“I, err,” Luther muttered, shuffling from foot to foot. “Five said that it was… Klaus.”

“Excuse me?” Allison said, glaring over at him.

“I’m not sure if that’s what he meant, but just before he collapsed at the doorstep, I asked him who did this to him and he said it was Klaus.”

“How the hell did Klaus do this? He can’t even walk in a straight line, and his arms are like noodles!”

“Yes Diego,” Allison sighed, “we know you work out.”

“All I’m saying is, maybe he got attacked on the way there, or maybe it was a trap.”

“He went to talk to Klaus, who was already pissed with him, and for good reason too. It makes sense.”

Diego scoffed, “It doesn’t make any sense,” he hissed, “Klaus wouldn’t do this.”

“Grace says he should be awake soon, we can ask him then.” Luther said, trying to keep everyone calm. Grace perked up at the sound of her name, looking between them with that vacant smile.

“You’ve done a great job, Mom,” Diego grinned, his voice soft all of a sudden. “Five would’ve died without your help.” Grace smiled lovingly.

“Can we really believe what he says, I mean, he killed an innocent man, a man that Klaus loved. Should we really be on his side here?” Allison asked. It was something they’d all been trying not to think about; what Five had done. He kept on telling them that he’d changed during his decades alone, that he’d killed countless people, but it was all so easy to ignore when he looked the way that he did, like their kid brother.

“There aren’t any sides here, we’re family, and we’re going to help one another.” Luther said, trying his best to keep the peace.

Vanya wasn’t following the conversation at all, but she was used to that sort of treatment when among her siblings. Out of the loop, never included. She gasped, however, as she saw Five’s eyes flicker open.

“Anyone care what I have to say about this?” He muttered, voice groggy and heavy in his throat.

Vanya seemed to be the only one that was genuinely pleased. Diego only looked relieved for a moment, before he donned his signature scowl. “Not really, no.”

Five rolled his eyes. He tried to sit up but the attempted action made his vision swim before him. He decided against it. “Fair enough,” he grumbled, "did you kill Harold Jenkins?”

“Wait, what!” Vanya interjected, looking at Five in shock.

“Oh,” he smiled, "hi Vanya. So yeah, did you kill him or not?”

Diego looked down at the floor. “No,” he murmured, resembling a kid caught in the act of some trivial transgression.

“Diego!” Allison cried.

“I thought getting here was a little more important, Luther made it sound like Five was dying!”

“I was,” he muttered, "but that’s no excuse, I’ll remind you we’re talking about the fate of the world here.”

"I – I might know something about that, actually.” Vanya said, softly. “I think that I… I have powers.”

The others hesitated for a moment, and Vanya was afraid that they were going to laugh. “Oh, come on,” Diego sighed, putting a hand to his brow. Luther gave her an awkward smile, and Allison gave her shoulder a sympathetic pat.

“Hey, let her finish,” Five snapped. He turned his eyes to her (still being unable to turn his head).

“I was reading Dad’s journal in the car and,” she looked over at Five, unsure of whether to continue. They were all staring, it was difficult to form words. He gave an encouraging, minute nod. “It said that I had powers all along, but they were too dangerous so he… the pills… they’re meant to stop them.”

“You’re serious?” Luther asked.

She nodded, staring down at the floor. “It’s not just that. I’ve been off my meds these past few days and weird stuff has started happening. I feel different, for a start. I got angry at you all and the lamp posts on the street started bending, I think I can control the weather and… last night…”

Diego was looking at her, wide-eyed. “You killed those guys?”

“I – I didn’t mean to,” she stammered. She looked around at the others, hoping she wouldn’t find fear, or disbelief. “they were attacking me and… him.” She couldn’t say his name.

“What kind of power is it anyway, cataclysmic violin playing?” Diego chuckled, trying and failing to lighten the mood.

“I don’t know, like telekinesis or something.” She muttered under her breath, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Telekinesis.” Luther considered, “of the world ending variety?”

“If it was something that Dad was too scared to deal with,” Five replied, “I’m thinking quite possibly.”

“Shit,” she muttered. “You guys said that Le – Harold,” the name brought a bitter taste to her mouth, “had some sort of murder shine in his house, so I thought… maybe he was trying to, I don’t know, use me or something… to hurt you. He was always more invested in developing my powers than I was, and he knew things about them that… I should have noticed. God, I’m so stupid.”

“It’s okay, Vanya,” Allison said, kindly. Vanya didn’t like to admit it, but sometimes she liked it when Allison played the role of big sister.

“How dangerous are these powers exactly, are you on the pills now?” Luther asked, suddenly stepping forwards from the shadows.

“No.” She admitted, wringing her hands, agitated. Taking them again would feel like failure to her, it would be like letting her father win.

“Should you be?”

“No,” she insisted, a little more forcefully than she’d intended. “I can control it, I can, I just…”

“It’s okay Vanya, I know this must be scary for you.” Five murmured. Vanya smiled gratefully. “And, if this is true, then it could mean that Harold Jenkins can no longer cause the apocalypse.”

“What, really?” Luther said, puzzled.

“I don’t know, but the way I see it, without Vanya, he won’t be able to do anything.”

She hadn’t wanted to believe it, that she was capable of something like that, the apocalypse.“So you really think that I was going to–“

“I don’t know. And, if you were, then I know you would never have done it on purpose, okay?” Said Five. She could tell that he was in pain. His eyes were watering with the strain of it all. “Just stay here, you’ll be safer with me if he decides to come after you.”

“Okay,” she nodded.

“What do you want us to do, Five?” Luther asked. He didn’t seem comfortable with it, asking for leadership.

“Frankly, Luther, I don’t care,” he quipped. “Wait, no,” he reconsidered, “keep tabs on this Harold Jenkins guy, tell this police about his false identity if they haven’t caught up with him in the hospital already.”

“What about Klaus?” Diego asked. “Was he really the one that did this to you?”

Five closed his eyes, “he was.” There was a murmur of discordance from around the room.

“Wait, wait, we’re talking about our brother Klaus, right?” Vanya murmured, though she knew she wasn’t going to get answers for a while yet.

“He’s dangerous, believe me. His powers are stronger now.”

“So, he can see… more dead people?” Allison offered, just as confused as the rest of them.

“No, he can manifest dead people, physically. Actually they’re the ones that did this.” He gestured vaguely to his beaten body. One of his arms was strapped in a splint, and his eyes were barely visible beyond the swollen, blackened flesh surrounding.

“So he summoned a bunch of dead people to beat the shit out of you, damn. Good for him.”

“Diego!” Allison cried.

“What, he deserved it,” Five nodded solemnly to Diego’s assertion, “it doesn’t make things even, but maybe Klaus will feel better about coming back to the academy now that he’s taken Five down a notch,” he glanced over Five lying helplessly on the bed, “or ten.”

“It’s more than that though, he didn’t seem fully in control. It was scary, he was levitating off the ground, his eyes went all blue, the air felt like it was going to suffocate me, and I heard things… he needs our help but I’m worried that he’s becoming too dangerous. We need more information before we can confront him again.”

“I’ve got Dad’s journal,” Vanya offered, “there’s bound to be something in there.”

“I’ll find Pogo, he’ll be able to help,” Luther added. Vanya wondered if Pogo knew about her powers too. She was willing to bet that he did, it cast all that comfort he gave her, as a child and just a few days ago during the funeral, in a darker light. What did he have to say for himself?

One by one, they shuffled out, leaving Five and Vanya alone.

“Do you think Klaus is scared, by his power I mean. It’s terrifying, finding out you can do something like that, hurting people… even though you don’t mean to.”

“I’m sorry Vanya, and I’m sorry for Klaus too. Let’s be honest, Dad probably messed you two up most of all, except maybe for Ben, but, well…”

“Have a read,” she stood up beside him and adjusted the bed so he was sitting up. She handed him the open book. “Everything we need to know’s in here.” He nodded gratefully, and began to skim over the notes.

Vanya sighed and moved over to the cabinets lining the walls. Harold may have gotten rid of her own supply of medication, but she knew her father must have kept some lying around. Sure enough, she found a row of dusty jars at the back of the cabinet. She unscrewed the lid, already feeling ashamed that she couldn’t do this on her own, couldn’t control the power that was building inside of her. It was too much, seeing Five injured, reading her father’s words, and Klaus… One, two, three. She had to feel numb to this, otherwise she thought her heart might explode right out of her chest. Is this how Klaus felt, that dependency, amplified a thousand times over? She wondered what he was feeling right now. Was it guilt, or fear? Or was he past that entirely, twisted into some other person by the power lying dormant within. That’s what Vanya feared most as she downed the pills, losing herself, destroying the people she loved – just like Klaus.

...

Notes: Sorry for the lack of Klaus in this Klaus fic. I felt it was important to compare the perspectives of Klaus and Vanya while also getting Vanya and her power trip out of the way so that Klaus can step forwards and wreck their shit :))

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader Season I

Chapter 7- The Day That Was

Summary: Five has popped in from nowhere, yet again. Now you, Diego, Five, and Allison are on the hunt for an important file.

Masterlist - where all the other chapters are⚔️

Tagged: @sambucky8 @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch @alonewolfsblog @starrrybarnes @winterboobear11

“Who the hell is Harold Jenkins?” Questions Diego, bewildered at the random insignificant name Five just handed Allison on a folded piece of paper. Five glances up at the six of you, who are all gathered around Allison in various states of befuddlement. He lets out a short huff before taking one more sip of coffee, promptly chucking it behind him where it soars across the room forgotten and out of sight.

“I don’t know...yet. But I know that he’s responsible for the apocalypse. So we have to find him. And we have to do it now.” Explains Five, setting up a new plan of attack.

“How is he connected to what’s gonna happen?” Wonders Luther doubtfully.

 “I don’t know.” Answers Five, Diego cutting in with his own questions, “Wait so you just know his name? That’s it?”

“That’s enough.” Assures Five to the rest of you. You let out a snort, amused by his ready-to-go vagueness.

“There are probably dozens of Harold Jenkins in the city.” Adds Diego, making a compelling point, how are you guys supposed to find one guy within the giant populous of the city?

“Well, we better start looking, then.” You deadpan, not thrilled with the idea of playing a game of Where’s Waldo.

Five then goes on to fully explain the reasoning and valuable information about how he came to the conclusion of Harold Jenkins causing the apocalypse. Further diving more in depth about his former employer and what the Commission is, as well as what it does, which is to protect and maintain the timeline. It’s a large informational dump, but it does clear up more about who Hazel and Cha-Cha are. As well as what they do, so they’re timetraveling assassins who help keep the timeline in order. And you already thought your life was weird enough.

Five finishes his little rant, the rest of you all beginning to speak out at once, rambling on with more opinions and unnecessary questions. Allison commenting on how completely insane everything he just said sounds. Five’s head snaps up at that, “You know what else is insane? I look like a 13 year old boy. Klaus talks to the dead, Y/N can get shot in the head and come back to life, and Luther thinks he’s fooling everybody with that overcoat. Everything about us is insane. It always has been.” You nod at that, Klaus adding his two cents from his spot laying on the couch, “He’s got a point there.”

“We didn’t choose this life, we’re just living it. For the next three days, anyway.” Five ends with, hoping everyone will see the importance of sticking together. “But the last time we tried to stop it, we all died. Why is this time any different? Why shouldn’t I go home to my daughter?” Worries Allison.

“Because this time, I’m here. We have the name of the man responsible. Guys, we actually have the chance of saving the lives of billions of people. Including Claire.” Replies Five, a new determination pushing him forward. Allison’s eyebrows furrow in thought, “You know her name?”

“I do, and I’d like to live long enough to meet her.” Five tells her honestly.

“All right. Let’s get this bastard.” She agrees, walking closer to Five. “You had me at Gerald Jenkins.” Says Diego, you roll your eyes, Five correcting him “Harold Jenkins.”

“Whatever it is. Too many people have been killed his week, let’s not lose anyone else.” You add, walking towards the door.

“You, Luther?” Five says, surprised that Luther hasn’t joined the band wagon yet. “Yeah, you go. I’m gonna stay and go through Dad’s files. I still think this has something to do with why he sent me to the Moon.” Luther tells all of you, his mind still dead set on the Moon and why he was sent there. You roll your eyes, Diego speaking up at Luther’s unwillingness to help, “Seriously? Now you wanna make the end of the world about you and Dad?”

“No. “Watch for threats.” That’s what he told me. You think that’s a coincidence? This all has to be connected somehow.” Luther explains while looking to each of you expectantly. “No, we should all stick together.” Allison reasons, trying to get Luther to see the light. “We don’t have time for this.” You groan while reaching out to touch Diego’s arm, you just really want to leave and get on with things.

“Let’s roll. I know where we can find this asshole. Klaus, you’re with me and Y/N.” Beckons Diego, nodding for him to follow. 

“Yeah. I...I’m good. I think I’ll, uh...I think I’ll pass,” He says from the couch while waving him off, “I’m feeling a little under the weather, so..uh...” He trails off, getting up and walking past you, Diego, and Five.

 Diego and Five look to you for an answer as Klaus walks away and out of sight, you just shrug your shoulders, “The worlds a rainstorm and he’s but a tiny rain forest ant.....I don’t know, lets just leave.” You tell them with a sigh as you start walking towards the front door, the two of them following.

“When did you get all metaphorical?” Says Five.

“Since today.”

“That’s right my babes a smart one.”

“Someone has to be...and Diego it’s not gonna be you.” Five lets out a choked laugh at your teasing comment.

“I’ve missed you guys.”

——

Surprisingly enough, Diego had the right idea when it came to finding this Harold Jenkins guy at the police station. They have all the records of almost everyone in the whole city, so Jenkins record has to be here.

Diego pulls up to the side of the building, while you look out the window at the bustling city life, thinking to yourself about how none of these people could even begin to dream of the life you live. They’re all blissfully oblivious to that fact that the actual apocalypse is supposed to be coming in a couple days. None of them have a goddamn clue. They don’t know what it’s like to die, or what a heartbeat sounds like in the chest of a terrified teenage robber. They’ll never know what it feels like to look at their own reflection in a bullet, as it flies past their head. When it seems like time is rolling in slow motion, and you’re the only one fast enough to react. They have no idea, and they’ll never carry the memories of taking another humans life. But no life you have ended was ever innocent, and the world can sleep a little easier with the loss of another rapist or murderer gone from the streets.

You stay silent as Diego and Five start talking about this Jenkins guy. “I know this Jenkins dude has to have a record. We gotta get our hands on his file.” States Diego, but you do wonder how he’s gonna pull this off.

“And your plan is to what? Waltz in there and just ask for it?” Sasses Allison, doubtful about Diego’s confidence.

“I know the station like the back of my hand, sis. I’ve spent a lot of time inside.” You snort at that, “Behind bars or handcuffed.” He glares at you through the front mirror, you just smile sweetly at him.

“Whatever. Here’s the plan.”

“Plan? I’m just gonna blink in and get the file.” Five says matter-of-factly. Diego shakes his head, “No, that’s not...You don’t know the ins and outs of this place, okay?” Diego jabs defensively.

“I literally just did this yesterday.”

“What.”

“My yesterday, not your yesterday. It’ll take me two seconds. Why don’t I just go?” Argues Five clearly confused as to why Diego is being difficult about this simple task.

“Listen to me. You are not going in there. I made a call. That’s what a leader does. He leads.”

“Okay then Mr. Leader, get the damn file.” You grumble, wanting to get on with the day, considering there’s only three left. He gives you another fake mirror glare, before opening the door and getting out.

——

While Diego is off and away, getting that file, you’re currently leaned against a marble wall of some giant building, Five doing the same to your left. The both of you listening to Allison’s attempt at calling Vanya, who doesn’t appear to want to answer. Finally Diego walks around the corner, “So?” Asks Five pulling himself off the wall.

“You’re welcome.” He says while Allison snatches the file out of his hand. Suddenly her eyes go wide, “Holy shit.” She exclaims, taken aback by whatever she’s looking at.

“What?” You question, leaning in closer to see what the big deal is.

Allison turns the file around so the three of you can see the photograph of a man, “Harold Jenkins is Leonard Peabody.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, “Am I supposed to know who the fuck that is?” 

——

It feels like you’re playing a game of clue or something of that nature, the file leading the four of you to Harold/Leonard’s house in some suburban neighborhood. You all get out of the car, making your way up to the front porch. “Be careful, okay? We don’t know what Peabody’s capable of.” Warns Allison in that concerned motherly tone of hers, it’s almost comforting.

“Yeah, he didn’t seem dangerous when I first saw him. Looked kinda scrawny.” Replies Diego taking the lead up to the house.

“Yeah, well, so are most serial killers and mass murders.” Allison adds, you laugh at the irony. “Exactly, I mean look at Five.” You tell them, Five gives you a half offended look while muttering a short, “Thanks.”

Five and Diego continue their way up and onto the front porch, slowly walking towards the door. As they’re doing this, Allison goes to the right, heading for the back entrance. You pause on the sidewalk, right in front of the house, while looking up at the roof where you spot a window into the upstairs bedroom, bingo. Crouching down ever so slightly, you spring up, hurling your arms upwards for more momentum as you launch yourself onto the roof. And she lands a perfect 10, outstanding, you think chuckling to yourself. Both Diego and Five completely unaware of yours and Allison’s absence, you continue to the upstairs window. The window’s locked but like that’s going to stop you, you grip the bottom of it and push up, snapping off the lock as you lift it. Giving yourself access into the house, you stick a leg in, ducking under as you make your way inside. It’s clean enough, and best part, there’s no house alarm. You have a look around at your current surroundings, nothing seemingly out of the ordinary that would raise any alarm bells, in fact the place is kind of a bore if your being honest.

Walking down the wooden stairs you see Allison and Five making their way towards the front door to unlock it for Diego. A second later Diego comes bursting through the glass, crashing into the floor and making a nice mess in the process. “Subtle.” Comments Allison looking down at him. Five walks over to the door handle, turning the knob and opening it, “You know, the door was unlocked.” He tells him. You make it to the first step, watching in amusement as Diego picks himself up, “Dramatic, as per usual.” You quip, Five and Allison snickering as Diego just grumbles, “Yeah, well, my way works just fine.”

He stands up, flicking loose pieces of glass stuck to his jacket, “Spread out. Yell if you, uh.... you know, you’re in trouble.” He sighs, walking away and into the living room.

“Ah, inspiring leadership.” Comments Five bluntly. “One of the greats.” Adds Allison as the three of you watch him limp away.

“If we ever have kids, I hope they’re not that stupid.” You mutter, Allison lets out a loud laugh as she turns to you, her face breaking out into an amused smile. Five just shakes his head with a tiny smirk lacing his boyish features, he then moves to walk away and into another room.

You shrug, walking back up the stairs, Allison trailing behind you. She searches in some guest room, as you slowly walk down the short hallway, your nose catching the scent of something odd, you look up. The attic door, “Well this has never let me down in any horror movie. There’s gotta be some creepy shit up here.” You mumble to yourself, incredibly curious as to what you may find. Reaching your arm up, you grab the dangling handle, firmly pulling down the retractable steps. Letting curiosity take the better of you, you march up the wooden step-ladder, only for your eyes to land on the entirety of the Umbrella Academy in its prime. All your faces scratched where the eyes should be, plus a multitude of figurines, some of which are broken and melted. Definitely not weird or anything, totally normal.

“Guys, you’re not gonna believe the weird-ass shit I just found!” You shout down to them, excited about your creepy horror movie like find. You can hear the thumping of their shoes as they all race to where you are from their various spots in the house. Allison peaking her head up first, the others following suit. They all stand around behind you, taking in their peculiar new surroundings.

“All our faces are burnt off.” Says Allison, freaked out and bewildered by this wild discovery.

“Well, that’s not creepy. This guys got some serious issues.” Mumbles Diego, who’s leaning down to get a better view of the damage.

“I was hoping our breaking and entering would lead to something interesting, I didn’t exactly have weird-man-child-obsessed-with-childhood-heroes in mind.” You muse, picking up a half melted figurine of yourself. Your face scrunches up into a grimace at the ugly sight, you then turn to face the others, gaining their attention.

“Look. Mine even has orange eyes. Special Edition Number Eight.”

“That’s nice Y/N. Mine doesn’t have a head.” Retorts Diego.

“Five you still look like your figurine, it’s like a freaky spitting image.”

“My hair looks better.”

“Amen brother.”

“Y/N I can’t say the same for yours..ah don’t hit me I’m kidding.”

“This was never about Vanya. This was about us.” Exclaims Allison, getting more disgusted by the second as she quickly gathers the attention of the three of you. 

Without warning Five falls to the floor, making a loud thud. You all turn in concern, “Five. What...” Allison trails off, getting down on her knees to better assess the situation, you set your half melted Special Edition self down on the shelf, turning to do the same but on Five’s left. Your eyes catch a deep red stained to his fingers. A subtle whiff of blood dissipating off of Five.

You lift up his uniform shirt to better see the damage, he’s got a nasty piece of metal shrapnel stuck in his side. “Jesus, Five.” Whispers Diego, concern lacing every word.

“Five what the fuck, I was wondering why I could smell blood on the way here.” You glance at Allison for a fraction of a second, she thankfully doesn’t catch what that glance was implying, you’d be laughing at the thought if not for the current situation. Five just groans, “You have to keep going. So...close.” He whispers, passing out once again. 

“Five. Five!” Allison shouts as the both of you try and shake him awake. It’s no use, he’s to exhausted.

“Well, shit.” You add dryly, positioning yourself to lift Five’s unconscious body up.

——

Diego holds open the Academy’s door as you quickly make your way inside, holding a barely conscious Five in your strong arms. Allison and Diego right behind you, “We should have taken him to the hospital.” She whisper yells.

“A kid with a shrapnel wound might raise some questions.” Five mutters tiredly, as a stream of blood runs out the side of his mouth.

“Yeah, well, so does the murder shrine in Harold Jenkins’ attic.” Presses Allison, making a solid point. You finally reach the living room couch, laying Five down as gently as you possibly can.

“He’s still losing a lot of blood. What do we do? We gotta get the shrapnel out.” Worries Allison, looking to you for guidance. Diego randomly walks past the two of you, seemingly abandoning ship, nope he’s just found Grace who’s apparently fixed and about to walk up the stairs.

“Diego, where are you going?” Allison calls after him, but he completely ignores her.

“Fuck Diego, we don’t have time for this. I’ll get the medical stuff...just uh...keep the old guy awake. I’ll be right back.”

——

You’re leaning against Five’s wardrobe as Grace puts a fresh bandage on his wound. Your mind flashes to the times when she would have to do the same thing to you, after countless dangerous missions. Although she would actually just be painfully dislodging the shrapnel, doing her best to be as gentle as she possibly could. Those metal and glass pieces would have left you for dead, if not for your miraculous healing capabilities.

Diego leans against the door frame as Allison walks up behind him. “Anything?”

“There’s no answer at Vanya’s place. And the receptionist at her music school said she was a no-show for her lessons today.” Replies Allison, nervous as to where her sister could be.

You turn around to face them, as they both walk into the hallway. You keenly notice how Diego’s face looks almost slightly startled to see Grace up and active after what he did.

“D, you okay?” You whisper walking closer to him and Allison. “Yeah. I don’t know, it’s just surreal seeing her. I just wanna tell her that I’m s...” he doesn’t let himself finish, not wanting to reveal any important details that Allison is unaware about, “We don’t have enough time. We gotta go.” He says, turning for the stairs. “I don’t know, Diego. Five is laying there, unconscious. We need him.” Pleads Allison, holding Diego from taking off just yet.

“We can do this ourselves.” He says, his voice laced with determination. Crossing your arms you take a deep breath, “We did that already, remember? Long story short, we all died.” You sass, also wanting to stay and wait for Five.

“I’m thinking I should go back and see Claire before...” Starts Allison, Diego cutting her off, “You can’t run away from this, Allison. That’s what started this whole mess in the first place.” Diego pauses for a moment sighing, “Luther was right.” He admits, both you and Allison giving him a look. She scoffs, surprised, “I didn’t think I would ever hear you say those words.” He gives an apprehensive smile, “Yeah, well... we gotta stick together.”

You nod towards him, “Alright, hot stuff. Where do we start.” You ask him. He flashes you a small smile, “There’s no other addresses in the file, but there is another relation listed. Jenkins’ grandmother. She lived near Jackpine Road.” He explains turning to walk down the steps, you and Allison following suit. 

“You think he took her there?” She wonders.

 “I wouldn’t mind a late night drive, it’s a good enough place to start anyways.” You conclude as the three of you make your way through the Academy and out the front gate.

Continuing your way into the street, “Nope. Come on, this way.” Diego says, pulling you in the opposite direction of two police cars sitting further down the street. “Wait, but the cars back that way?” Allison says, troubled as to why Diego refuses to go in that direction.

 “Trust me, okay. Come on.” He quickly says, walking briskly away from the cruisers, you lightly touch his right arm, quickening your own steps.

 “What’s up with the cops?” You whisper, he doesn’t look at you.

“They think I killed Patch. Because of all the evidence and all my finger prints were on everything.” He mumbles, your brows furrow in frustration, “What the hell? But I was there too? Guess I didn’t touch anything.” You state puzzled, just as blue and red lights begin flashing behind the three of you.

“We’re gonna have to split up, okay. I’m in charge. Remember Vanya needs you two.” He tells you, his face showing deep worry. Why must things always go wrong?

You grab his hand, holding it tight, “Don’t say or do anything stupid, okay?” You warn him, as Allison turns to quickly flee the scene. You squeeze his hand, “I love you.” You whisper quickly, before jogging away from the cop cars, as you hustle after Allison. You can hear him mumble a quiet “Love you too” as the police cars speed into view. You glance back, your heart stinging when handcuffs are forcefully placed on his wrists. Guns drawn on him, you’d love to kick those pistols right out of their grasp. But alas, you push onward, getting into the passenger seat as Allison starts the engine, taking off down the avenue and towards this house out in buttfuck nowhere. This whole evening has had quit the turn of events.