PUBERTY TWO [ FIVE HARGREEVES X READER ] ♡

୨୧┊SIXTY SIX :

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AMBROSIA.

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My hands moved, making it seem as if they had a mind completely of their own, picking up some fruits from inside the fridge of Elliott's house. Prepping a classic sixties nourishment!

Ambrosia salad.

I held it all in my arms : A mandarin, pineapple, oranges, marshmallows and a coconut.

I let it loose upon the counter of the kitchen, eyes fixated on the bag filled with few marshamallows, my mind starting to dial back . . .

--

THE COMMISSION, A WHILE BACK

--

We had just finished our most recent job, the job at Germany.

The moments of it still haunted my mind, I tried to push it deep down in the folds of my mind, trying to forget it's horror.

It made me shiver upon thinking of it.

I sighed as I threw myself down on the pale colored couch complimenting the objects surrounding it inside the room. Us being finally let off for the day to rest at our home the Commission provided.

I loudly blew a rasberry, flinging my head back as I listening in on the sound of Five angrily throwing his suitcase against the counter of the kitchen, a loud thud erupting from this very action. I sighed as I lifted my head, staring at the ceiling blankly.

"You hungry, dear?" I yelled out, still spread out on the couch,

"Sure am, Darling!" I lifted myself, grunting slightly as I made my way to the kitchen, finding him standing quietly, loosening his black tie.

I walked up to his figure, turning his body to face me, his back pressed to the counter.

For a forty year old man . . . he looked quite delectable.

My hand traced his jaw, sliding upwards gently as it furthered into his ruffled hair. His face evidently became red, brows stitched as his expression stood complex as it always was.

"You need an aspirin, don't you?" I whispered softly, my lips curling into a smile before pecking his flushed face. He grinned while I began to walk away from him, he grabbed my shoulder to spin me around, kissing my lips fully. I hummed with a dopey smile as we parted, I playfully pushed him off.

Five sat himself down. Seeming a bit more light spirited as moments prior.

You deserve to have your mind elsewhere, you stress too much.

I flicked the radio on quickly, playing Blackbirds by The Beatles.

I swiftly swung the top cupboard open, Gently taking a bag of marshmallows into my hands as well as the peanut butter which was permanently placed beside it for easy access.

Obviously.

My hands hovered over it, grabbing it quickly and setting it down upon the counter, the counter in front of the other one Five sat by.

My eyes stretched wide, noticing the unusual weight of the peanut butter jar, I hid it before me, peering over my shoulder to see Five occupied with an outdated newspaper, brows furrowed as he was clearly invested in the events that had already occurred.

Time halted, setting him and the rest of everything he was amongst to a stop. I slipped out of the home quickly as I ran to get some peanut butter at these daring, desperate times.

I bumped into someone, falling over as I loudly groaned, holding my head. My eyes then quickly traced upwards in pure curiousity.

No . . .

I felt my body become electrocuted with fear, it soon disappearing as I remembered my ability, time hadn't been liquefied through me just yet again.

The Handler . . . She must've been on her wau to praise us for our dreaded, yet succeeded mission . . .

I sighed and stood up, searching further for some blasted peanut butter to make my loving husband a damn sandwich.

--

1963, 'PRESENT'

--

I roughly shook my head, my mouth pulled into a deep thrown as I ripped the bag of marshmallows open in light frustration.

WHERE IS HE?

I threw the bag down onto the counter, mumbling a prayer to myself as I began to wash off the fruits, draining them before cutting them all into squares of what they once were. Then throwing the chopped up fruitlets collectively inside of a large bowl. Mixing some marshmallows and a tad bit of sour cream.

"Y/N? What are you making, I just closed up the store. Those new Tru Colors are sellin' like hotcakes!"

"Ambrosia salad. I have to be off soon, would feel guilty if I just left with nothing behind . . . I mean, I'm coming back, obviously." I rambled, placing the mixture inside a decorative glass bowl, spraying it with a load of whip cream. Elliott nodded, standing in front of me as he watched me work,

"I haven't ate ambrosia salad since . . . Eleanor made it." he whispered, I gave him a sad toned smile while I picked up the bowl, placing it inside the refrigerator he owned.

"I'm taking off, take care, Eli!"

--

My shoes echoed along the eerily pale tiles in the building, halting once I came to where I was marching, the building's reception.

Disturbing. This place is . . . disturbing.

The woman preoccuping the desk hadn't noticed me, shuffling a few papers she held while adjusting her glasses, I cleared my throat softly. Her eyes darted to me, lips parting, she suddenly shone a smile, one that did not fit her face at all.

"Hello, young dame. Lost?"

"Oh . . . No, I am not. I have came to see my father, finally mustered up the courage to." I smiled out, holding my hands behind my back to sell my little act, hoping she'd buy it as if it was 85% off.

"Father? Right, what's his name?"

"Diego Hargreeves, haven't seen him since he ended up here in the looney bin!" I softly laughed out, grinning. She silently chuckled, pulling out a file as her eyes traced it, she looked over his picture, then towards me, slightly skeptical. She shrugged it off quickly, though.

She sighed to herself, picking up the telephone next to her as she dialed it,

"Evening, Peter. Someone is here to see Diego Hargreeves, claims to be his daughter. Her name's . . . "

she trailed off, looking over me as she covered the end of the phone where she would talk into, her eyes peered into mine.

"Y/N Hargreeves."

"Y/N Hargreeves. Can you get Diego ready for her? . . . Is that so? Again? Alright, thank you, Peter." she breathed out, setting the black telephone back into it's little space,

"I feel terrible to inform you of this little girl, but . . . your father isn't in the right . . . shape of mind to have visitors. He attempted to escape once more with his little ramblings over the president, so sorry, do come check in some time again though!" she shone a sympathetic smile, not near genuine at all. I grunted under my breath, holding my head down as I nodded and began to quietly walk off.

Fuck, Diego . . . dumb bastard.