#in the first portrait it almost seems like Reginald and Luther are standing together

[letbenfuck2021]

be the thing that buries me (ao3)

For the last four years, Vanya finds herself both prison and prisoner. She doesn’t have super powers. She isn’t physically strong or a tactical genius. But ordinary and helpless as she is, Vanya is determined to find a way to save her brother. She doesn’t want her body to be a cage anymore.

sequel to “inside your head the sound of glass”

rating. explicit. warnings/tags. pseudo/sibling-incest, dub-con, dead dove: do not eat, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, dark fic.

chapter 1:

It’s cold in the city. Winter came early this year, a brutal cold snap billowing in about a week or so after the Academy turned eighteen and it showed no signs of letting up. And it is this frigid autumn that finds Vanya nearly freezing at the kitchen table, attempting to cut carrots into somewhat bite-sized pieces. She is, so far, mostly failing.

“Vanya darling,” Grace calls from across the room where she is preparing cornish hens for roasting. “Why don’t you head to the drawing room? It’s much warmer up there.”

This was the third time Grace had made this exact suggestion in the past hour. Vanya’s clacking teeth and the precarious way her hands shake as she presses the blade of her knife down is agitating Grace’s programming. Each heavy thunk against the cutting board causes Grace to twitch, an electrical impulse in her software reacting to the quickly climbing probability of injury occurring.  

“I’m okay, mom,” Vanya replies under her breath before lifting the butt of the knife once more and wrestling the carrot into place under the blade.  

It’s a little past four in the afternoon and already dark, a cold blue light washes the room and leeches all the warmth from the air. A few moments, Grace will reach for the light switch on the far wall and plunge them into the dingy orange light of the fluorescents overhead. But for now, Vanya sits at the kitchen table, shivering under a large sweater, a hoodie and two thermals and narrowly fails to slice open her own hand as she cuts away another jagged, ugly piece of carrot.

“What the fuck? Watch what you’re doing, Al! You almost took my fucking head off!”

“Don’t be a bitch, Diego.”

The echo of Allison and Diego’s bickering wafts in through the open window above the kitchen sink from outside in the courtyard. They’re running drills practically in the dark and it is only growing darker, but her siblings still have another thirty minutes to go before they can venture indoors. When their father took Ben, Luther, and Five on mission three week ago, Reginald had given strict instructions for all of those left behind. Her own orders had been sparse but from what she could tell, her siblings’ regimen was rigorous and immensely detailed. When they aren’t training, they are out patrolling and running other smaller missions.  in the last ten days much to her dismay. Vanya sees her siblings more in the paper than in person, but she’s been waiting, planning for her moment and now, it’s almost here. So, despite the cold, despite the blade that veers too close for comfort to her left hand and the damn carrot that rolls once again beneath her knife, Vanya is determined to wait.

“Yeah! Duuun’t be a beeotch, Deeeeee-yego!” Klaus calls from somewhere else in the courtyard before bursting into a shriek of laughter.

Even his laugh sounds slurred. His voice is quite a bit more muffled than either Allison or Diego’s, as though he’d tucked himself into the far corner of the yard and it was really a miracle that he was awake at all. The night before, Klaus had slipped out sometime around midnight and hadn’t returned until that afternoon. No one said a thing when he’d stumbled into the dining room in the middle of lunch and draped himself casually across his seat across from Diego. These days, no one saw virtue in commenting on Klaus’ perpetual lack of sobriety. In the same way that no one said anything about what was going on between her and Five or the horizontal scars littering Ben’s forearms. They’ve all quietly decided that it’s easier to turn a blind eye to all these things. They’ve all agreed that Klaus’ slurred speech sounds better than his screams in the middle of the night.

“Let’s go again, Diego,” Allison called out. “Start from the top.”

If Diego had any reservations about running through another set in the dark freezing cold, he made no audible dispute. Instead, the courtyard went silent again except for the occasional grunt or shout from either of her siblings. Though it didn’t always seem like it, Diego and Allison were a pretty dynamic duo in hand to hand, at least that’s what she’d heard from Five. When he ran missions, Five would often pair them together despite Allison’s protests. Keeping Allison and Luther apart was perhaps a petty move on Five’s part but it was also a strategic one. Five often talked about their siblings to Vanya, his dissatisfaction with them, his begrudging affection all tied up in his keen observation. It’s a little like listening to a story, a novel on audiobook about people in a far away land. After what happened to Five, the line in the sand that was between Vanya and her siblings was now drawn in concrete. Reginald had always done his best to keep her separated from the others. She wasn’t a complete fool. Having her hold blank clipboards, blow whistles, and stand beside him during training were all his not-so-subtle ways of indicating to them all that Vanya was not like them. And if that message wasn’t clear enough then the slow building resentment towards her would surely do the job. Though her mundanity had damned her, it had saved her as well from the brutal, violent reality that her siblings inhabited. They all begrudged her, her normal and therefore privileged existence. What happened to Five was just the final nail in the coffin. Not even Ben would acknowledge her these days.

“Ah!”

The knife slips in her grasp too far for her to recover in time before the blade cuts a line across her thumb, from the edge of her nail to the first knuckle. The wound looks, at first, completely innocuous. Bright red across her pale, clammy skin but thin and strangely static as though someone had drawn on her in red ink. Then, the wound unfolds. Her skin unfurling like a curtain as the blood begins to pour and the sting turns into intense pain.

“Oh dear,” Grace suddenly at Vanya’s side.

Before she bleeds all over the table, Grace reaches out and grips Vanya’s thumb with a kitchen towel. Her mother squeezes tightly, the pressure stopping the sharp pain but it’s replaced with a throbbing ache that is just as intense and leaves Vanya breathless.

“Sorry, mom,” Vanya murmurs, finding the words difficult to form.

Grace crouches down, her other hand deftly fishing a small tin box from the pocket of her apron. She releases Vanya’s wounded thumb for a second to open the little box. The aching pressure on her thumb releases for just a second before a sharp burning pain floods her senses. The world seems to shrink to her bleeding digit and Vanya blanches when she sees something white peeking out of the mess of blood and tissue. As soon as the box is opened and placed on the table, Grace’s hand moves to cover her thumb again, her steady fingers putting an uncomfortable amount of pressure over the wound.

"Is it bad?”

“It’s alright, sweetheart,“ she says though Grace has yet to actually inspect the injury.  

They wait like that for a few moments. The pain in her hand is making Vanya’s head spin while Grace begins to hum. Vanya looks up from her finger and finds her mother’s face turned towards the open window over the sink.

"Your brothers and sister should be coming in soon. They’ve been playing all day. I hope they won’t be too tired for dinner.”

She still spoke about them all as though they were children. Breakfasts were still happy faces made of fried eggs and bacon, pancakes with shapes made of chocolate chips. What she must think of them all, her children. Though she made no comment on it, Grace left Vanya’s clean and folded clothes in Five’s room now and left her daily meds there as well. After another moment of looking out into the dark, Grace turns her attention back to Vanya’s thumb and uncovers it. Her face is a portrait of bland concern.

“Hm, we may need stitches,” she says, pinching at the wound and pushing the disparate edges together and letting them fall apart again. “Why don’t we just patch it up for now and we’ll see from there?”

Grace smiles and it’s beautiful. Of course it is, she’d been made to be that way. Vanya often wondered if her mother had once been a real woman, someone with real feelings, with thoughts and desires that existed beyond whatever Reginald had coded into her. Grace stands from her crouched position, easily keeping her balance despite her tasteful, four-inch pumps. She instructs Vanya to replace the towel and put pressure on the wound while she goes to wash her hands at the sink.

“Your brothers and sister should be coming in soon,” she says with her back turned to Vanya. “They’ve been playing all day. I hope they won’t be too tired for dinner.”

The old pipes groan as the faucet sputters, at first there’s barely a trickle but Grace’s hands are poised and moving as though through a steady stream.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, mom.”

This earns Vanya another wide, blank-eyed smile when Grace turns around wiping her hands on her apron. It takes a few minutes for Grace to clean and bandage Vanya’s thumb. The sharpness of the initial pain has faded and is replaced by deeper ache that makes her head spin and stomach turn ever so slightly. Grace admires her handy work then lets out a small gasp as though she’s just realized something.

“Vanya darling,” she says standing to her full height. “Why don’t you head to the drawing room? It’s much warmer up there.”

Vanya shakes her head, eyes still glued to her injured thumb trying but failing to will the pain away.

“It’s okay,” Vanya implores.

Grace tilts her head to the side, the large curls in her blonde hair shift like water sloshing. She looks troubled, her programming stumped. The girl is clearly half-freezing and now injured as well. She should be someplace warmer, perhaps even in bed. Vanya is fragile, ordinary, and largely incapable of contributing to the household. This all information that has been coded into Grace as truths. Vanya should be out of the way as much as possible but heavily supervised. Quickly, her mechanics run through the options and settle on this.

A wide smile and “maybe some hot chocolate instead. Warm you up a little.”

Before Vanya can decline, Grace sets to work. First she covers the Cornish hens in foil, they’ll need to sit for another half an hour before they’ll be ready for roasting and the stove will need at least half that time to finish rising to temperature. The air in the kitchen is cold enough that she doesn’t need to put birds back in the refrigerator. Instead, she leaves them sitting on the counter when she goes to fetch milk and a saucepan.

“Why don’t you sit closer to the stove, dear? It’s much warmer there.”

Vanya glances out at the window over the sink. She thinks she can just make out the sounds of labored breathing but all she can see is darkness. They’ll be finished soon and she doesn’t want to miss her chance but Vanya is also freezing and the painful throbbing in her thumb is making her dizzy so she relents and slinks across the room to the stove. She bypasses the chair at the end of the table and opts instead to squat down beside the old rusting appliance. Grace had been right; it’s infinitely warmer in her new location, though Vanya already knew it would be. This isn’t the first winter evening that she’s spent crouched at Grace’s feet beside the stove waiting just to catch a glimpse of her siblings.

“Did you remember to take your vitamins today?” Grace says from above her.

Vanya nods, doing her best to balance on her heels and stay clear of the heated metal beside her. How could she ever forget? Her “vitamins” are actually a cocktail of different medications that she takes on a daily basis. Recently, she’d noticed the arrival of a new pill, round, pale and though she’d been given no explanation for its sudden appearance the timing of its addition suggests that it was some kind of contraceptive. It had been Five who offered that particular hypothesis about the new pill’s purpose. And despite being somewhat relieved that she had one less thing to worry about, Vanya had been downright scandalized and denied even the possibility. Instead she had insisted that there must have been a new development in her condition.

The smell of milk heating wafts through the air, cutting through the cold and making Vanya’s stomach churn. Her thumb still hurts, the pain seems to be growing as more time passes but she tries not to think about it. Instead, she focuses on Grace humming a song that sounds simultaneously familiar and alien as the warm smell of milk and chocolate hangs in the air.

Vanya considers asking Grace now about the new pill. It isn’t uncommon for pills to appear and disappear according to what her condition required. When she was four, Vanya had contracted a highly contagious illness and had to be quarantined away from the rest of her siblings for months. She’d undergone multiple treatments and a couple surgeries, and even now she required vigilance and a strict adherence to a daily chemical regimen prescribed by her father.

Vanya could remember practically nothing of her illness and the resulting treatments. Most of early childhood is a vague smudge for Vanya and what she knows of her condition is a patchwork of bits and pieces she’s overheard or been told. Nothing from that time of her life feels real, except for Five of course. He’s the only thing that she can remember with any sort of clarity from her childhood. There is of course the rejection, the loneliness, the utter desolation of being an ordinary child in a clutch of extraordinary ones, but those things are more like a murky lake of misery. Five stands out like a raging flame. She remembers him dogging her relentlessly, always seeking her company, rooting out her little hiding spots in the house. At first, it had been painfully awkward to be under the weight of his attention but it wasn’t long before painful awkwardness became desperate craving. Now, Vanya can’t imagine who she could possibly be without Five.

The stove steadily grows hotter and Grace’s humming begins to skew atonal. Five and the others are scheduled to return that night though. Reginald had called earlier in the day but, according to Pogo, he didn’t give a specific time. The thought of Five’s impending return sets Vanya’s teeth on edge, with both eagerness and apprehension. Pogo had been tight lipped about the progress of their mission and so she had no ability to tell what mood her brother would be in when he returned. Every mission took a toll on him, truthfully on all her siblings and Vanya worries what state Five will return to her in but she wants Five home, whatever state he’s in.

“Oh my dears! You’re practically popsicles!”

Grace’s exclamation jostles Vanya awake. At some point, she’d managed to drift off with her back pressed against the wall and balanced on her heels. She’s sweating beneath her layers, the stove’s oven is nearly to temperature.

“We’re fine, mom,“ Diego replies, his voice is labored and when Vanya peeks up over the table, she notices that he has Klaus on his back.  

“Why don’t you all have a seat, you’re just in time for hot chocolate!”

There’s a shuffle of feet and the sound of a chair legs screeching across the floor. Vanya rises to her feet just in time to watch Diego dump Klaus unceremoniously into an empty chair.

 ”Ow, Didi,“ Klaus whines. "Try a little tenderness wouldya? I’m precious cargo.”

His speech is still slurred but there’s a clarity to his words that wasn’t quite there earlier when Vanya had overheard him in the courtyard. Besides his griping, the room falls silent as soon as Diego and Allison spot Vanya. They both tense up as though they’ve seen a wild animal.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Diego snarls.

His animosity is nothing new but Vanya winces regardless and tries to focus her attention on her sister.

“She lives here, genius,” Allison retorts glibly but the tension doesn’t leave her body.

Grace, seemingly unaware of the uncomfortable strain between her children, moves throughout the kitchen gathering mugs and setting them out on the table.With a mechanical poise, she divides up the hot chocolate into four perfectly even portions. Klaus doesn’t seem to notice what’s happening either. He’s opted to bury his face into his crossed arms resting on the table in front of him and doze off.

“I need to talk to you,” Vanya says, trying her best not to look at her brother.

“Like hell you do,“ Diego barks.

Vanya almost loses her nerve. Of all her siblings, Diego despises her the most or it may just be that he has the hardest time hiding it.

“Relax, Two. Drink your cocoa.”

Despite being Number Three, Allison is the unquestionable superior. Diego could never quite convince himself that he was or could ever be better than his sister. Allison easily outdid all her brothers in almost all things and where she was found lacking, she found ways to make up the difference. Diego      respected     Allison and so he usually deferred to her and this time is no different. He doesn’t stop glaring at Vanya but he takes a seat beside Klaus.

“Let’s talk upstairs, Vanya,” Allison says evenly. “It’ll be warmer up there.”

Vanya nods in reply and follows her sister out of the kitchen. Diego watches her leave with a hostile glare and kicks Klaus’ chair so hard that it jostles him awake. Behind her, Vanya hears them bicker.

"Get up asshole and drink your cocoa.”

“It’s hot chocolate.”

“Same thing.”

“What? No it’s not!”

Their voices grow vague as Vanya and Allison ascend. Vanya’s heart is fluttering in her chest and her stomach, which has been in knots all day, only gets worse. Vanya is afraid of Allison. Not in the way she fears Luther. She still has nightmares of the sound of her own fingers snapping, joints popping out of place and searing pain of skin ripping. She isn’t scared of Allison like she’s scared of Diego who took every opportunity to verbally berate her. Vanya has no memory of Allison ever being especially cruel to her or physically harming her but she knows what Allison can do and that’s more than enough reason to fear her.

“H-how was training?” Vanya asks hesitantly.

As much as she fears her sister, Vanya admires her more. Allison was everything that Vanya wishes she could be. Beautiful, strong, confident and most importantly, Allison is special. She’s extraordinary. And even if she’s scared of her, Vanya wants so badly for Allison to like her.

“It was like negative twenty out there,” Allison replies without turning around. “It sucked.”

Vanya nods even though Allison can’t see her. She doesn’t know how to reply to that. It had been years since she’s been allowed to participate, even in a spectator position, in training.

Allison leads her to the main parlor where a fire’s been lit. It’s exponentially warmer here and Vanya finally feels as though she can think straight. She watches as Allison makes a beeline for one of the ornate couches and lays herself out with a huff. Vanya opts to stand off to the side, nearer to the fireplace.

“Um..thanks fo-

“Just tell me what you want.”

Vanya’s throat suddenly feels dry. She can’t see Allison’s face from where she’s standing but she can hear the cold annoyance in her voice. It makes her feel small but she shoves the feeling down.

“I…I want you to undo the rumor you used on Five.”

Allison sighs heavily from her lounging position.

“Vanya. Really? This shit again?”

“Please, Allison. If you could just try, I know yo-“”

“I’ve already told you. I’m not doing that,“ she says sitting up. "Why don’t you just accept that he’s obsessed with you and take the win?”

“It’s not a win!” Vanya shouts, her voice cracks.

Allison looks genuinely startled by the outburst and it emboldens Vanya. She takes a step closer and continues.

“It hurts him. He’s not even himself anymore and he’s trapped here because of it. Because of      me    .”

What Vanya isn’t saying is, because of you. Allison hears it anyway.

“You can do it,” Vanya implores. “If you would just try.”

“I can’t,“ Allison says, punctuating her assertion by standing.

Allison is fairly tall for a girl her age and she certainly dwarfs Vanya’s miniscule five feet. She’s an intimidating figure but Vanya won’t back down.

"Yes you can. You’re the only one who can help us.”

“This is getting old. And a little pathetic. Enough already.”

With that, Allison turns and makes for the door but Vanya rushes forward. Before she can stop herself, Vanya reaches out and grabs Allison by the wrist.

“I’m just trying to help our brother! Why won’t you help me?”

As soon as Vanya touches her skin, Allison recoils pulling her wrist from her sister’s grasp. The force causes Vanya to stumble and Allison feels sorry for it. In all honesty, she has nothing personal against her sister. She doesn’t particularly like Vanya but she doesn’t hate her the way Diego does and she isn’t scared of her like Klaus and Ben seem to be. Truthfully, Allison doesn’t      know    Vanya. They’d lived practically their entire lives under the same roof, grew up together, shared meals, slept in rooms barely twenty feet apart but Allison had never felt any closer to Vanya than she felt to any given stranger off the street.

“Stop, Vanya. Just stop. You’re not helping, you’re just trying to make me feel guilty.”

“I’m no-”

“Yes. You are. And you know what? I am guilty. I made the rumor. I agreed to say it. I’m guilty. But that hasn’t changed anything for the last four years. It isn’t gonna change anything now. If you really wanna help Five, maybe you should stop blaming everyone else and figure out how to do it on your own.“

"Well you let Dad treat Luther like a tool all he wants,” Vanya says and she knows she should stop but the bitter words spilling out of her like vomit. “I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you won’t help us.”

Vanya knows she made a mistake. Allison watches as her sister’s expression changes from resentful anger to utter fear and she wants to laugh. Allison had always pitied Vanya for her weakness and they both knew it. But for the first time, Allison is beginning to realize that she doesn’t just pity Vanya, she resents her. She had never once in her life been allowed to even seem weak but her sister wallowed in her frailty, relied on it even. Some dark, nasty part of Allison wonders if that’s why Five was attracted to Vanya so much in the first place. Five like little else more than feeling superior.

“I-I’m sorry,” Vanya stuttered, her eyes wide with fear. “I didn’t mean…”

Her trembling lip, Vanya’s little body shrinking away with anticipation. Terror slinks off of her like a rotten stench. Allison takes it all in and she feels terribly powerful. This isn’t a new experience for her. Allison had often stood above opponents, criminals, vandals, sometimes even her own brothers, and she loved being above them. She liked to savor the intoxicating feeling of being the winner, the victor because that was the Hargreeves way. Do whatever it takes to get on top and stay there. Even if you have to cheat and Allison had no qualms about playing dirty and yet, for some reason, the sight of her sister, trembling before doesn’t make her feel triumphant, it makes her feel sick.

“I’m sorry, Allison. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Vanya barely manages to choke the words out, her teeth are nearly chattering with how sacred she is. Looking at her makes Allison feel sick. Her shoulders suddenly feel too heavy, they slump as she sighs. She’s so tired that it nearly brings her to tears. But she doesn’t cry. Allison doesn’t get to cry, no matter how much she wants to.

"You’re right. You shouldn’t say that. Even if I wanted to, I don’t know if I could undo the rumor. They just have to run their course.”

\\\\

She wakes into the dark with a crick in her neck. She’d fallen asleep with her head at the foot of Five’s bed again, staring out at the snow falling against the darkness. It’s a bad habit but she’d always liked Five’s windows. Vanya isn’t sure when she’d fallen asleep but after her encounter with Allison, she’d dragged herself up to Five’s room, buried herself under his comforter and tried to find some solace in the snowfall outside his window. She must have succeeded because when she wakes, it’s nearly midnight and there’s someone with her in the dark.

“When did you get back?” she murmurs apologetically.

It’s become an unspoken ritual that Vanya waits up for Five when he comes back from a longer mission. It wasn’t always possible, but Vanya tried her best to be there for him whenever he got back. She attempts to turn her head to see his face but the muscles in her neck spasm. She can hear the sound of her own groan entering into the cold silence, jostling the air and she thinks she also hears a laugh. Just a small huff of air really, beside her ear all warm and soft in a way that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand.

His thumb finds the tight muscle in her neck, massaging circles into her flesh. It hurts at first, the sudden pressure makes her gasp and the flush of blood back into the area makes her a little dizzy. He curls his fingers under her neck, arching it upward so that he can suck hickeys into the skin he’d just massaged. She’ll be peppered with purple marks, too high above her collar and plentiful to cover but even so, she cranes her neck and lifts her chin exposing more skin for him to mark. Ever since the Paris job, they had settled into a kind of uneasy armistice. There had been no explicit discussion, no bargaining or clear transaction but something of a conclusion had been reached.

"Fi-ah!”

His teeth find the sensitive spot where her neck curves into her shoulder. Five bites down, hard enough to make her jump but not enough to break the skin. It’s both agonizing and thrilling the way it hurts.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, it’s the first words he’s spoken to her in almost three weeks.

He, Ben, and Luther had been running some kind of reconnaissance mission where secrecy was of the utmost importance and there had been no chance for the odd phone call home. His mouth is hot and wet over her skin as he trails languid kisses along her collar bone then back up to where he’s no doubt left teeth marks in her skin. His breath is warm, ghosting over the sensitive skin.

“Did you miss me?” Five murmurs, hovering over her aching skin.

At first, Vanya can only manage a sigh. He feels good, there’s no denying it. As much effort she puts into keeping the lines drawn between what is real and what is the rumor, Vanya can’t lie about how he makes her feel.  Five would have been a talented lover under any circumstance. Vanya is certain of that though she tries not to think of it much. Even if she believes that had he been given the vast wealth of opportunity that freedom would have afforded him, Five would never have chosen her, it still stings to think of him with others.

Before she manages to answer him in any sort of comprehensible way, Five laves his tongue, wide and flat, over his bite mark. Vanya lets loose a sound that is half whimper and half moan but entirely mortifying. But Five seems to appreciate it, an appreciative hum rumbles across her skin as she tries to catch her breath. It could feel humiliating sometimes, the level of intimacy he demands from her. Five is always struggling closer, ripping through the carefully constructed barriers she’s set between them for their own protection. He wants everything from her, every sound, every reaction and sensation. And had she been more of a fool, Vanya would give it to him freely but she knows that had it not been for the rumor, he would have never wanted it any of this. He may want every single bit of her now, but Vanya knows that when the rumor wears off, he’ll resent for every little inch she gives.

“Five, maybe we shouldn’t-” she begins to say, her nerves outweighing her desires.

But before she can finish her phrase, he bites down again. This time is harder than before, not enough to break the skin but enough to make Vanya yelps. Desperate to find anything to hang on to, she reaches for him, her fingers desperately scrambling across his face, over the shell of his ear, before settling and tangling into his hair. Though her nails are short and dull, there is no doubt that in her frenzy she left behind some damage but Five doesn’t seem to notice or care.

The pain only lasts a moment before he drags his tongue over the new bite dissolving the tension and rendering her a shivering mess. She lets out a low, guttural moan as he continues to mouth at her neck, sucking hickeys into her skin. Something stirs in her belly, a searing, aching need unfurls as his kisses shift downward. The comforter slides off of her body as he draws the middle line of her body. The frigid air is an assault on her body but it only makes her lean into him. Her shoulders rise from the mattress and the hand that had been at her neck trails down between her shoulder blades, propping her up.

She wants to put her arms around him, feel him closer. As terrified as Vanya is of the day when this all comes crashing down, it doesn’t change that she wants Five. Ever since they were kids, Vanya has ached and longed for him, even when he was right beside her. Wanting Five, wanting to be with him, wanting to love him in every way that has, does and will exist is not a new desire for Vanya. Sometimes, she thinks she was born that way. But despite all this, she hesitates as Vanya always does. So cautious, so careful, Vanya loves like a kicked dog. She flinches back before a fist is ever even raised, before he can even think of rejecting her, Vanya has already bowed out in repose.

Vanya is lost to herself, the torrent of desire and fear inside her when she feels the sudden shifting of weight as Five leans back. His hands are gone, the cold crowds in and she loses him in the dark. Turning on to her side, the weight of her raised torso resting on one elbow, Vanya squints into the darkness before her and finds her brother all cast in shadow. He’s not that far from her, his face still level with her own. There’s just enough distance, a few feet maybe, that the darkness leaves his face almost completely obscured. She can make out the curve of his ears, the corners of his jaw but his eyes are lost. He is just a shape, the suggestion of a man but not one entirely. He is some spectre made of stuff darker than the pitch darkness around them. For a second, she’s afraid. She doesn’t recognize him, even when she sits up on her knees, leans in closer. She can’t see him. Her blood pounds in her ears as the fear twists into something else, something more.

“Five?”

“I always forget,” he mumbles but she cannot see his mouth moving. “When I’m away, I always forget. Just how good this feels.”

His voice shakes as he says this, like he’s scared too. Five and Vanya had always shared so much, sweets, sweaters, kisses, why not share their fear as well? Vanya is aware of the phenomenon he’s referring to. It was Diego who had been so kind as to inform her that when Five is far enough away from her, the effects of the rumor lessen and what’s left in its place is a dull ache. A week, maybe a little more and Five starts to act like his old self again.

Hey, Seven. What do you think would happen if you just fucked off for good?   

Though it hurt when Diego spit that particular possibility at her, she had to admit, it’s a fair question. Five always espoused how much he missed her while he was away, how desperately he craved her the whole time but she wonders how much of that was actually true. What if he’d been happy while he was away? What if he’d been free? Or at least close enough.

“Did you miss me, Vanya?” he asks once again, this time he sounds unsteady, unsure.

It breaks her heart to hear her brother so degraded, but she can’t answer him. The words just won’t come as she stares back at him across the darkness, his features bleeding into view as her eyes adjust. He looks young. In the dark, he looks like her brother. The brother that had held her fevered hand when they were all ten and a bout of the flu had ripped through the entire academy but had settled on Vanya for nearly a month. This was her brother, who had kissed her on the mouth with sugar glazed lips and fed her so many doughnuts that she thought she would puke.

This is her brother. And she can’t even bring herself to tell him that she misses him. So Vanya takes off her shirt instead. Five waits in the darkness, watching her strip down to her bra. Vanya can feel his eyes on her as she slides her sweater and shirt off together. Her skin is a shock of goosebumps as her hands, already shaking with the cold, reach back to undo the hooks.

“Let me,” she hears him murmur.

He shuffles forward, even on his knees, he’s still level with her eye line. His long arms reach up and close the distance between them as finds the center of the band. It will only take him a few seconds to undo the hooks. Embarrassingly, Five is better at undressing her than she is but for these scant seconds, Vanya allows herself to rest her cheek upon his chest. It’s a small sin, to give herself this bit of comfort but she still feels the weight of it when Five’s hands slowly trail down her arms, taking the straps of her bra with them. She hears Five take a breath, holds it for a few seconds as he drinks in her body.

“You have no idea, Vanya,” he murmurs. “You can’t even imagine what it’s like for me to miss you.”

It’s true and the guilt she feels because of that makes her want to disappear. He skates his hands up her sides, sighing with relief at just being able to touch her skin. He puts his face into the crook of her neck to breathe in deeply.

“You smell like home,” he says into her skin. “You’re everything to me, Vanya. You know that don’t you? I need you with me.”

She nods slowly. It’s true. It’s all true but none of it’s real. His hands drop down to the waistband of her jeans, undoing the button as he places kisses along her shoulder, then her clavicle. The click of her zipper coming undone is loud in the silent, dark room. Five pushes them over her hips and down to her knees. Vanya sinks down, laying herself out on her back so that he can free her from her pants completely. He moves quickly from there. His fingers are already curling at the elastic band of her underwear when she stops him.

“Wait,” Vanya says, her hands falling over his own to stop their movement.

Five flinches as though she’s burned him. Under her breath, she murmurs an apology. It’s easy to forget just how brittle the rumor has made him. Her brother has always been such a large, looming figure in her mind, confident, strong, intelligent. Even after four years, Vanya forgets just how easily he breaks. With one hand, she laces her fingers through his own, an act meant to reassure him though he doesn’t seem moved. His eyes are hard as he watches her rise from his bed.

“What are y-” he begins to ask when she detangles her hand from his.

But he falls silent as soon as she turns her back to him, falling to her elbows and knees on his mattress. Behind her, Five takes in a sharp breath.

Then she hears, “fuck.”

Her heart is a sharp staccato in her ears as she feels him lay his hands over her hips, slowly, with near reverence. His hands are cold on her skin, colder even than the air around them. And not for the first time, Vanya wonders where he’s been. Part of her wants to ask him, wants to ask him what he’s done and what he’s given up to be here with her again. He pulls her back, pressing his hips into her ass. Through the fabric of their clothes, she can feel the hardness of his cock and it sends a shiver down her spine. He moans as he rocks his hips and Vanya gasps as he squeezes her buttocks. He leans back just far enough to slide his thumb down and press up against her pussy, feeling her through the fabric. Embarrassingly she can feel the cool dampness that’s spread into the fabric.

“You’re so wet, sis. You must have missed me.”

He nudges into her further, the fabric feels almost coarse on the sensitive flesh but Vanya leans back. There’s no point in playing coy now. Five hums appreciatively, massaging slow circles into her through the fabric in a way that makes her head spin. She’s panting like a dog in heat by the time she feels him push her damp panties aside.

He pushes into her without preamble. It’s rough and Vanya lets out a low sob as the pleasure of him filling her flushes up her spine like a fever. He loops an arm under her belly to hold her in place as he shifts his hips back and thrusts into her again. Five grunts, the heat of his breath fans out across her frigid skin making her shiver. A few more slow, languid strokes before he begins to pick up his pace. Tears bud at the corners of her eyes. Her elbows slide out from under her. The sheets come up to meet her face but his arm is still around her waist, keeping her ass up as he pounds into her so hard that her knees nearly give out.

It’s too much. It’s always too much. She’s all but lost in a haze of pleasure, trying to meet each of his thrusts. It feels good just to be with him, to have him in her and yet, she can’t let go. In the back of her head, she can’t forget that this isn’t real. And the guilt roils in her gut. She suddenly feels sick, her throat tightening until she chokes.

"Fi-Five-ah!” she gasps out.

Her face is pressed into the mattress, fingers grasping at the cotton sheets. The wet slap of flesh against flesh becomes erratic and behind she hears Five groan. His fingers at her waist dig into her flesh. He’s close. Vanya knows it, with each swing of his hips, he grinds into her harder, deeper. Then with a guttural moan, he thrusts one last time and spills into her.

“Sorry,” he gasps. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

His hips are still pressed up against her ass, rocking slowly into her as he rides out his orgasm. It takes a few moments before his breathing evens out, his cock softening within her. He slides out of her gingerly, careful to keep his arm around her waist. Vanya can feel the warm dribble of his cum sliding down her thigh as he gently lowers her to the bed. Sluggishly, she turns over onto her back.

“Lemme finish you,” he mumbles, dropping to his knees and spreading her thighs.

“It’s okay, Five,” she says dazedly. “You’re tired.”

He laughs a little into her skin as he plants kisses up the length of her inner thigh. Five sometimes jokes that she’s a little too polite, especially considering the things they’d done together. It’s cute though, he’d usually say with that too-wide grin of his and she’d blush and try to remember how to breathe. But tonight Five seems unwilling to indulge her impulsive niceties.

It’s still a little uncomfortable for Vanya to let Five eat her out. It’s embarrassing, of course but it’s all a little embarrassing. Sex is a mortifying, uncomfortable ordeal but what isn’t for Vanya? She’s lived her life feeling like an exposed nerve, both acutely vivid and devastatingly deadening. Mostly, it’s the intensity that scares her when he climbs between her thighs with greedy mouth and fingers and extracts from her a feeling that goes beyond pleasure or pain. She can feel it building now as he slides two fingers into her cunt.

He lifts one of her thighs and rests it on his shoulder, the other he pushes back, opening her wider for him. His free arm wraps up under her thigh, looping around and across her hip bone. Sufficiently locking her in place, Five puts his mouth to the top of her pussy. His tongue finds the sensitive spot to the right of her clit, pressing into it, hesitant at first, and when she begins to squirm, he goes harder. He knows her too well, knows that he needs to build up to her clit. The little engorged nub is far too sensitive, so he works around it.

He’s set a languid pace inside her, straying so very close to that erogenous spot. When gets close, brushing just shy of her g spot, it sends a jolt through her and Vanya yelps. She’s so dazed, her body is so warm, unbearably warm but also freezing. The room seems to have gotten colder and it makes every sensation that much sharper. Her nipples are so tight now that it’s almost painful. Five suddenly wraps his lips around her clit and sucks, not hard but it earns him a grunt. Her pleasure crests so suddenly that it leaves her literally breathless. For a second, everything stops, she loses track of herself as she hangs in the balance.

Then, she comes crashing down. Distantly, she feels him inside her, his mouth still on her clit. It takes her a few moments to hear her own squealing, feel her own body scrambling against Five’s grip on her hips. There’s a wet pop and suddenly there’s Five, grinning up at her from between her own thighs. She realizes she’s still breathing as he draws a line of wet, sloppy kisses up her body, to place a sweet peck on the corner of her mouth.

“Sorry,” he says again, then stands.

Vanya dizzily notes that he is still mostly dressed while she lies a complete mess and naked as the day she was born. It somehow always comes to that and Vanya cannot quite make any heads or tails of it. She feels both wound up and completely undone as she watches him undress and toss his clothes on the floor.

“We can go again in a bit,” he maneuvers her body easily, ushering her further on to the bed.

There’s a kind of wired energy to his words but even through hooded, heavy eyes, Vanya can see the sluggishness in him. He climbs in besides her, pulling his comforter over them in one fluid motion. Under the covers, he entangles their bodies, nudging her knees apart and hooking his leg through. He wraps her up in a tight embrace, he’s so much larger than her and she feels completely enveloped, the cold melting away with the heat of his body. Vanya is still too dazed to try to put up any kind of fight. She lets the pleasure of his kisses, peppered erratically over her face, wash over her. His hands wander and grope at her body as he pulls her even closer. Five has a habit of becoming hyper just before he crashes, one last burst of energy before the sudden stop like he’s on a sugar rush.

“I just…I need so-ome shut eye…” he trails off.

His hands still, his mouth is at her hairline, murmuring what sounds like nonsense. As he’s pulled under by exhaustion, Vanya feels herself returning to the surface. She feels both comfortable and uneasy in his arms. Nothing ever feels as good as being with Five but nothing hurts as much either. She’s caught between memorizing this exact moment, locking it away in the deepest, most secret part of her mind and guarding herself against it. It isn’t real. No matter how good it feels, no matter how much she wants it, it isn’t real. She chants this in her head even as she presses her nose into his chest and breathes in deeply. The salt and musky of his damp skin mingles with the brand of mild soap they use at the Academy. She doesn’t know how long she lingers awake, listening to the twin sounds of his heart beating and his slow, even breathing.

None of it can ever be real, she reminds herself. It isn’t her, it isn’t love. It’s the rumor and she can’t ever let herself want more than that.  And yet. She feels the words well up inside her, a truth too big to hide in her throat.

"I missed you,” she whispers hoarsely. “I miss you so much it’s killing me.”

#fiveya #fiveya fanfic #pls read the tags before reading

[wykart]

Fix Her

Chapter 2 of a fic about Five and Vanya and all the tragedy surrounding them (chapter 1)

Chapter Summary: The night of Five’s disappearance has Vanya on edge – she can’t sleep – so she decides to make him a snack for when he returns.

 read here on ao3 or continue chapter 2 under the cut

There was nothing else for it, she had to do something. She wondered if Five was lost somewhere, if he was trying to find his way back. The house got dark at night, what if he couldn’t find his way? He hadn’t touched his dinner that evening, hadn’t eaten since noon that day. It was past midnight. He would be starving. She thought about trying to find him at the old donut place that they often frequented together – but she doubted she could escape from the academy without his help. She couldn’t teleport, after all, in fact, she couldn’t do anything. Gingerly, she rose from her bed and placed her bare feet on the old floorboards – they creaked and groaned in the night with a clarity unachievable among the chaos and voices of her siblings during the day. They would all be sound asleep, training began at five-o’clock, running laps around the courtyard. Not her. Father would let her sleep in as long as she wanted, only because he didn’t care if she was awake or asleep anyhow. As long as she was out of the way, her sleep schedule didn’t matter.

She pushed the door open – just a crack at first. Finding no obstructions, she continued out into the hall. She crept past her sibling’s bedroom doors, one by one. All of their rooms were larger than her’s, all of them equipped with all manner of objects and trinkets and decorative items. Luther’s weights, Diego’s dart boards, Allison’s posters, Klaus’ prints, Five’s textbooks, Ben’s novels – all of them had something that made them happy in the few precious hours that their father allowed them to whittle away in solitude. Vanya had nothing but bare walls and a sparse vanity – even the bedsheets were dull. Sometimes she felt like that room – hollowed out and boring beyond belief. All she had was her violin, and even that had been her Father’s, locked in a case and kept out of sight.

All of them were sleeping soundly – even Klaus, who had been sleeping more and more soundly of late. When they were younger, she’d had to pull her pillow over her ears to muffle the sounds that strayed through their shared wall. His whimpers and whispers, sometimes his screams. It was times like that when Vanya was almost glad she didn’t have a power. Almost.

She pattered out of the corridor and into the main hall. At night, the place was an expansive cathedral. With the chandelier extinguished, the ceiling lay beyond a cloud of dark mist that marked the edge of what the eye could see. The moonlight through the long stained-glass windows cast the space in a chirascuric dichotomy of harsh light and shadow. The light glazed the oiled canvas of the family portrait. In the dark, one couldn’t even notice that Vanya was missing. During the day, this room was the centre of the house, almost cozy – as cozy as life at the academy could get. The reds and golds and warm chirping voices – and their father’s, sharp as a knife that cut it them all, leaving behind an inexplicable cold. He inspired a certain fearful admiration in his children. One and all would do anything to please him, even Vanya. Even though it was scary, this place at night, it felt more like Vanya’s home in the silence and abandon.

She headed to the kitchen across the way, careful to be quiet in her approach as she spied her mother sitting up on the first landing, eyes glowing blue. She pulled a loaf of bread from the tin and started making Five’s favourite snack – a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich. Soon after he’d introduced the combination to her, it had become her favourite snack as well, but Vanya wasn’t hungry. She felt sick just thinking of Five out there all alone, even though she knew he could handle himself. Maybe that was what worried her most of all, that he could take care of himself just fine, and he’d simply decided to make his escape without her. She didn’t think he would leave her… or hoped that he wouldn’t. Even now, she was beginning to have doubts. Perhaps he’d finally seen in her what all the other’s seemed to see, a boring girl that only brought boredom along with her. It had taken him a while, if that was the case.

She was worrying herself again. Hurriedly, she stuffed a hand into her pyjama pocket and pulled out a zip-lock bag where she kept her emergency capsules. Five was the only one who seemed to be able to calm her down when she was like this. She didn’t know what she would do without them. She feared the day that she’d be stuck without any medication and she’d feel that strange pull of vertigo twisting in her gut, the drowning, pressing feeling that threatened to drag her under. It made her fingers twitch and her eyes sting, like she was wide awake and burning away all at the same time.

She was holding the capsule in her quivering hand, pressing it to her lips, when the kitchen light flicked on. She nearly jumped out of her skin, and sent the tablet clattering down onto the kitchen tiles.

“Number Seven!” She gasped, a cold shiver running through her. Her breath caught in her throat, jittering. Of course he found her, she was so clumsy, so stupid. “What do you think you’re doing up at this hour?”

Her lip trembled, and she couldn’t stop her voice from stammering along, near a whisper. “I – I”m sorry father, I just –“

“Speak up, girl, stop your mumbling,” so curt, so cold. Ever since she’d known him, always towering above them all, a crisp suit, a stare off into the distance, never in the eyes, barking orders like a sergeant to his troops.

She struggled out a response. “I was making something, for Five, sir – I thought that, when he came back, he might be hungry. He missed supper.” She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, but she could feel the way his were looking at her. Bearing down, piercing, mouth drawn tight into a scowl. He didn’t answer, so she ventured forth. “It’s just, I know you said that time travel was dangerous, so what if he’s lost and trying to get back home?” Staring, staring, so she kept her eyes on those chequered tiles, letting her hair fall lank over her eyes. “What if we put the lights on, just for tonight, so he can find his way home. It gets cold out there at night.” Before she knew it she was pleading, an act her father had little respect or regard for. He was hard on them, he had to be, but this wasn’t one of his tests. If Five was really in danger, he would help, he had to.

He only sighed. “Your pity is misplaced, Number Seven,” as if even deigning to speak to her, to indulge her childish whims, was a cruel waste of his time. “Number Five knew the risks, and yet he disobeyed me. He will face the consequences, wherever he is in time. If the boy is as useless as I fear, then I doubt he will ever find his way back to us.” How could he say that? It had only been a few hours, he was just lost. He would come back. “He was an impulsive creature, Number Seven, self-important,” he spat, “arrogant, a mere shadow of what he could have become, if he had just listened.” He would come back. "A disobedient thing like that is of no asset to the academy, I do not mourn him, and so should you cast away any weak, grovelling affections you held for your brother.” Shut up, shut up, shut up. “I trust that you and your siblings will learn from his mistake.”

“Shut up.” She muttered, before she could stop herself. Tears stung her eyes, her mouth stretched into that same scowl that so often adorned her father’s face. The one that held no mercy, that was bitter and old and powerful enough to send his children into a frenzied attention.

It was a long and terrifying moment before he spoke. “I beg you pardon, Number Seven,” though he knew exactly what she’d said. He was daring her to say it again.

“That’s not my name!” She cried, staring up at him. “How could you say those things about Five! He’s the best of all of them, he used to admire you too, but you just wanted to use him like you’re using all of them!” She couldn’t stop, everything she’d even felt was coming up like bile in her throat, burning acidic. She lowered her voice, thinking about him, her only friend. “He was the only one smart enough to see it,” Sir Reginald didn’t even react, that same stern face, expressionless. It was infuriating. “He’s the only one that’s even been nice to me, treated me like I belong here even when I know I don’t, I’m not an idiot!” She was running out of breath. “You can’t just give up on him, he’s out there, I know it, he’s coming back.”

Another pause. He cleared his throat, still staring on past her, just another disappointment in a long line, just another stupid child he’d failed to reel in. “Are you quite finished, Number Seven. You’d do best to let go of these petty attachments, if you have any aspirations to become strong.” He brought his hands up into a crisp clap – twice together – a sound that tore through the still night air and raged through her ears. “Now, to bed. I’ll not hear another word of it, Number Seven.”

She’d couldn’t stand it anymore. “That’s not my name!” she screamed. She had one for a reason, she was a person, she was more than what her father thought of her – Five had shown her that. That was the very reason that he clung to his number with such pride, not – as their father suspected – out of some fierce loyalty to him and his best efforts to desensitise them all from what made them human beings – but out of spite. If his father was to number them, to take away everything they were, then the best he could do was cling to that label, make it his own, and form himself around the very thing that was meant to seperate him from everything. Vanya wasn’t so brave, so vainglorious, she had precious little to remind her of who she was – and her name was one of them.

Her father furrowed his brows deeper still, a level of disapproval and disgust that was difficult to bring forth. “Number Seven!” he barked, leaning forwards a little, and bringing his hands together in yet another resounding clap. The sound made her jump. “Go, now!”

She couldn’t move. The brisk sound cut through all the turmoil that had been racing through her mind. Her worries for Five, her anger at her father, her resentment towards her siblings, all of it fell away and was replaced by the humming of the night. The rustling of trees outside, the muffled sounds of car horns blaring as is they were sounding in this very room, the chandelier swaying in the light breeze, crystals clinking and clattering over the sound of her pounding heart. The light flickered, and she felt a draft shoot through the kitchen, parting her hair from her eyes.

Her father must have seen something in them because he froze on the spot – and was that fear on her father’s face? He swallowed, steadying his breathing. Clasping his eyes shut, as if the very word brought a bitter taste to his mouth. “Vanya.” He’d never called any of them by their names before. Perhaps he was so fed up with her that he’d say anything to get her out of the way. Typical. She felt wide awake, brimming with burning energy. He crouched down and picked up the capsule from the floor by her feet, dusting it off lightly. “You don’t seem to be feeling well, have you taken your medicine?”

She cast her mind back, and of course, she hadn’t. With all the commotion at dinner she’d forgotten to take it with her meal, she’d been so worried about Five. Earlier that day, at breakfast, she’d been up in the attic with him, hiding away. Not wanting to be found out, she’d skipped her morning dose as well. She’d been so worried, so angry, so scared, no wonder she was getting herself so worked up. No wonder the world sounded as if it were about to drown her out. She took a deep, rattling breath, and took the capsule from her father’s hand. He backed away, watching her closely.

It was a while before either of them spoke. “Sir, is it okay if I finish making a sandwich for Five, just in case?” Her voice was meek, unsure. She was so sure that he would yell, but instead, he simply turned and walked away, the sound of his dress shoes echoing through the empty house. She took the opportunity to finish, even though she knew he’d think she was weak for doing it. She didn’t much care what he thought anymore. She placed the marshmallows – cut in halves, evenly spaced in a circle, just the way he liked it – onto a generous swath of peanut butter, and finally completed the sandwich. She placed it just beyond the threshold in the marble entrance hall, the great oaken doors, emblazoned with the umbrella insignia, firmly shut against the night. She stopped for a moment and listened, hoping to hear him walk up the front steps. He would thank her for the sandwich, she might even start crying, and he wouldn’t think she was weak or stupid for it, he’d just reassure her of the one fact it had taken her so long to believe was true – that he cared about her. She decided to sit by the door and wait. That way, she would be the first to greet him when he came home.

#tua #the umbrella academy #vanya hargreeves #five hargreeves #number five #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #fluff #angst #look its a mix guys #fix her #ao3