#fiveya week

[fivelilas]

Thinking about how last year or there was fiveya week/ fiktor.... It's sad that they got off the ship

[fivebyseven]

fiveya week - round two

hi all! with fandom coming back, i thought it would be appropriate to host fiveya week once more. except last year it was around the end of august and i want to give people more time to work on their stories/art if they want to participate so this year it’ll be on november. 

https://forms.gle/3sMoaP1nG5oWh42Q8 to get an idea of what dates work best for people, please fill out the form if you’re interested. you can also suggest themes/prompts!

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fiveyaweek <- this is fiveya week’s prompt from last year for reference. it will be fun to host it when fandom is a bit more active so we’re all excited for your thoughts!

[jjdoggies-fanfics]

Day 5: Guilt

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27396187

@fivevanya

Title: Little Do You Know, I’m Still Haunted By The Memories

She’d done it again. 

For a third time. 

Caused the apocalypse, or nearly did.

She was the reason Five spent nearly his entire life in the Apocalypse. She was the reason they had to flee to fucking Dallas, in the 60’s. She is the reason Ben died, and is replaced with this Other Ben. And she was the reason they came back, only to be kicked out of their own house.

Vanya honestly wished sometimes, that she could go back. To that blissfully oblivious month. When she believed she could live a normal life with Sissy and Harlan. Back when she didn’t have to deal with her family, or memories, or powers.

After they’d returned to 2019, being kicked out of their (former apparently) childhood home soon after, they splintered apart, again.

Allison made her way to Los Angeles, hoping Claire was still waiting for her; bringing Luther with her.

Diego similarly left, mentioning something about a friend of his and finding Lila. Klaus solemnly following behind him, wallowing in the loss of Ben. Their Ben. Because of Her.

While Five had stayed back, discussing something with their father, likely about not screwing up this timeline. About Her not ruining another timeline.

After everyone else splintered off, going their separate ways, again, Vanya alone, again. And somehow it hurt more being alone, being abandoned, forgotten, ignored, isolated, again. 

Perhaps, it is because, this time, it made sense. 

Because this time, she had done several things that likely caused her siblings to leave her. Namely, causing the apocalypse, for a second and third time, almost killing Allison, and actually killing Ben. Just to name a few.

Vanya silently wished she could return to The Academy, if only to use the basement. The bunker. The cell. Her prison. To lock herself away, like their father had, like Luther had, because, they were right. She was, is a monster. A bomb. A ticking time clock. The apocalypse.

She deserved to be locked up. Locked away. Kept away from everyone. From Allison. From Ben. Klaus. Diego. Luther. From Five.

She is a monster, and always will be.

She was destined to either end the world. Or, be killed, like a wild animal, by the people she grew up with.

She was never meant to be ordinary. She was never meant to be extraordinary. She never should have been born. Never been given the chance to live. To hurt. To kill. 

An itch had spread, from her wrist, up her arms, across her chest, around her neck, and down her back. Spreading all around. Infecting everywhere. Ruining everything.

Like she did.

Everything felt wrong.

It felt like Vanya didn’t belong in her own skin. In this body, despite it being her own. Or, at least she thought so. There was another thing. Another being. Personality. Alter ego. Living, residing inside her. One that had a thirst for blood, pain, revenge, murder. A constant voice in the back of her mind, telling her, pleading with her, begging her, to be freed. To hurt. To kill.

And for a while, Vanya had been able to silence the voice. For a month. In Dallas. She, It, was gone. And Vanya hadn’t noticed, until It came back. Bringing memories she’d rather have forgotten forever with It. Haunting her. Taunting her. Torturing her.

From the moment they touched down back in 2019, It was stronger than Vanya could ever remember. 

Whispering to her all the reasons that Diego hated her, wishing she was dead. Every secret moment they’d shared forever tainted by the blood she’d ever spilt, the invisible wounds she tore open and sold to the world, for a second of no longer being a nobody.

Taunting her with the memory of Luther rightfully squeezing the air from her lungs, when he should have waited for her heart to stop. As much as it burned, and hurt, at the moment, feeling as if the life was draining from her body, there had never been as much bliss that Vanya felt in her entire life than when she thought that the pain would stop. For good.

Reminding her as she looked at Other Ben, that it was her fault. It was always her fault. Every time. Because she wasn’t enough. She was never enough.

Ceaselessly filling her mind with images of accidentally slashing Allison’s throat, watching her sister bleed out on the floor, every time she glanced at her sister. Memories of hearing Allison and Klaus talking, and laughing, without her, as they did each other’s hair and nails. Bonding. Not needing, or wanting, their stupid ordinary sister hanging around. Never wanting her to be around. And still don’t.

Reliving every single time she had thought about how lucky Klaus was to have powers, ignoring all his complaints about the terrors that filled every waking moment and that clawed their ways into his dreams, because he had powers. He should be grateful to not be ordinary like she’d been. But, he didn’t end the world twice. Or kill his siblings.

Telling her that she was the reason Five was still in a teenage body. The reason that he suffered, for 45 years. Alone. Forced to join Them. Because of Her.

Hissing for her to stop Reginald’s heart again. To finally get revenge. For the imprisonment. The pills. The lies. The loneliness. The exile. The pain. The suffering. The hatred. The self-hatred.

But she couldn’t and never would.

For she was too much of a coward. Of a weakling. Too desperate for the attention. Or affection. The acknowledgment. To do anything to ruin it. But she already had.

She always did.

Always ruining everything. Because she never fit in. Never belonged. Not with Hargreeves. Not with her mother. Not with Leon- Harold, or with Sissy. Nowhere, with no one. Never had. Once had. Never will. Not again. As she was never meant to exist.

There was rain. Practically pouring around her.

She hadn’t noticed.

Too wrapped up in her own shit again to realize there was a world outside of her mind. Being selfish and self-centered again. Typical Vanya. Typical Number Seven. She hadn’t noticed the sky’s shift from partly sunny to being dark, cold rain pouring down. There was a reason she’d been given the lowest number. And it was very simple, she was the worst, at everything. 

She should probably move, stop sitting on the bench she hadn’t felt herself sit at in the first place, move somewhere dry, and safe. She didn’t deserve to be safe, not after what she’s done. What she could do. Maybe, if she sits in the freezing rain for long enough, sitting in her thoroughly soaked and now cold clothes, she will simply, die. As she’s meant to. Or, perhaps God, the little girl in the sky, will strike her down where she sits. Putting everyone out of their misery by removing her from existence.

She’s too much of a coward to do it herself.

She’s tried.

She’s tired. Too tired.

“Vanya?” Who was that? She felt like she’s supposed to remember this voice. “What the fuck are you doing? Are you an idiot?” The voice, attached to a boy. Five. Except, he wasn’t a boy. He looked older. Older than she could ever remember. He was pulling her from the bench, and in a flash, a flash of blue, she, they, were out of the rain. In some building. There was no one with them, only boxes. It was kind of dark. There were fingers in front of her face. Snapping. They were Five’s. “Vanya? You with me?”

Vanya nodded.

“What’s going on with you? I looked for you everywhere.” Five, he didn’t sound upset, or angry, like Vanya expected. He just sounded, “Are you okay?” concerned.

Vanya nodded. Again. Adding, “I’m fine. Sorry.”

He gave her a look. It wasn’t one she liked. But, it wasn’t a mean one either. Not like the one Five from the Brain Dinner had. “What are you sorry for? Just don’t wander off without me next time.”

“I’m sorry.” Vanya said, head dropping, eyes trained on the floor, feeling like she did every time she disappointed anyone, but especially their father, filled with shame, “Sorry for everything.”

There was silence. Vanya hated the silence, more that she hated It. The silence, left her alone with It.

“Vanya?” Five. There was a hand on her wrist, rain wasn’t hitting the metal roof anymore. “It’s okay.”

“How can it be okay? I did, horrible things.” Vanya asked, wishing she had the strength to pulled her wrist from Five’s grasp. But she simply didn’t.

Five took a hold of her other wrist. “If it makes anything better, I forgive you.” Her eyes met his. “I never blamed you, but I still forgive you.” Vanya gave him a weak smile, his forgiveness easing the weight on her chest and quieted Its voice for a bit. Five’s hands slid from her wrists to her shoulders, “Vanya.”

“Five.”

“There’s something very important that I need to tell you Vanya.” Five said, waiting for some confirmation from her, and when Vanya gave him a shy nod, Five told her. “I love you Vanya Hargreeves.”

Vanya knew that her face was completely flushed, feeling the heat spreading across her skin. Needless to say, that hadn’t been what she’d expected him to say. But, regardless, she told him that, “I love you too, Five Hargreeves.”

And just like that. Everything clicked. She fit. Vanya was home.

[jjdoggies]

Day 5: Guilt

moodboard for my day 5 of fiveya week, guilt

link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27396187

[lilredsoupbowl]

Coffee To-Go

Coffee shop au for fiveya week-- Will be unloaded on AO3 once I finish editing a Zombie AU from yesterday. But here is my short offering for: 

Day 2- No Powers

Vanya’s mornings start with the abrasive coffee shop owner. Not that she’s too perturbed by his behavior. Convenience won out over morning pleasantries. And Vanya was more than willing to make do with what she got. 

Convenience won out over morning pleasantries.

That was Vanya’s excuse for frequenting the corner coffee shop. It was a block from her apartment, a real hole-in-the-wall with a faded sign reading ‘Dolores’ from a prior business. The sign remained- the only real mark that a shop still existed there.

Inside was a cozy setup of five circular tables and mismatched chairs.

A grey-faced golden retriever served as the official greeter; laying on her cushioned bed by the door under the menacing sign, ‘Don’t feed the dog!’

“Morning Penny,” Vanya’s voice pitched to a praising octave as the dull thud of a tail wagged for her.

Penny’s owner, the proprietor of the coffee shop, stood behind the counter under a wall of chalk boards listing every origin and flavor profile of the coffee beans offered.

Smoke rose from the antique copper espresso machine in front of him. A tell that Vanya wouldn’t be getting her latte that morning. Again.

“That’s horse shit,” Five snapped into his phone. His usually neat button-down shirt was rolled past elbows as he proceeded to smack the broken machine in annoyance.

Breaking his assault of the espresso machine only to knock a to-go cup down in front of Vanya, “Self-serve this morning.”

Vanya replied with a sigh, “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

She stepped behind the counter undeterred; examining the crafts of waiting coffee with mild-interest. The coffee beans’ origin, the wash, or type meant little to the latte drinker, though she knew any option was better than what the gas station served down the street.

Guatemalan was chosen, listing notes of cherry and cedar. Vanya finished her cup with a generous portion of milk --

“You’re ruining it,” Five whined; holding the phone receiver into his shoulder to better instruct Vanya. “The flavor profile isn’t meant to be polluted with unnecessary--”

Vanya grinned pouring more milk into her cup, “You know the customer is always right, right?”

“Except when they’re wrong,” Five groaned, raising the phone back to his mouth to sneer at the repairman, “You were just here--”

“Two days ago,” Vanya supplied, tearing open a pre-made bacon breakfast sandwich and placing it into the toaster oven herself.

“Two days ago,” he recalled with Vanya’s help. “So it hasn’t just broke again. It wasn’t properly serviced the first time!”

When another regular walked in, Vanya took the lead. Heading to the register and grabbing a fresh to-go cup, “Espresso machine is down again, Klaus.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me--”

“I’m heading to the back,” Five defensively declared to the customers. “Looks like I’ll be fixing this myself!”

With Five disappeared, Klaus leaned over the counter to whisper to Vanya, “Think you can work your magic and get us non-dairy milk options?”

“My what?” Vanya tilted her head to the side, wondering if Klaus had reached the wrong conclusion that she worked here.

Klaus waved a hand theatrically in her direction, “Just do that wide-eyed naive look that channels the mean coffee guy’s libido… that look! You’ve got this!”

Vanya stared at the man, “I’m… not sure what you’re implying…”

“Come on,” Klaus gasped impatiently. “He’s only ever nice to you.”

Five emerged from the back with a defiant grin and his tool box. Stopping only in his path to take out Vanya’s breakfast sandwich. In a mock show of service, what any other coffee shop owner would do, he slid it into a bag and presented the item to the customer with a sing-song,

“Nothing starts the day out right like bacon and carcinogens.”

If that was nice, Vanya was giving up on humanity at this point.

Klaus misread the owner’s mood and pressed, “Did you know Sack’s on the southside has macadamia nut milk? Slept over at some guy’s house in that posh neighborhood, and had the best Pumpkin Spice latte made with macadamia nut milk.”

When Five only grunted a reply, Klaus tried again, “Ever think about offering some different milk options? Or make your own PSL…”

“This shop doesn’t do pointless gimmicks,” Five warned. He took a screwdriver in hand and started to take apart the front of the espresso machine.

“Shame,” Vanya sighed breathlessly. Five’s seeming indifference a catalyst to taunt, “I’ve always been a slut for an almond milk latte.”

The front of the espresso machine clanked against the floor. The sound of spinning screws rolled underneath the countertop. And Vanya watched in complete awe as Five’s left eye twitched.

Never had there been more signs of life in the thirty-something cranky barista.

Vanya unrolled a wad of bills and placed them by the register, “Keep the change.”

A ripple of self-importance surged through her as she headed to the door; stopping only when a whimper from Penny reminded Vanya to share a piece of bacon.

The whole situation might have been a fluke. An anomaly that, come tomorrow morning, none of them would think of again. But Vanya just had to turn at the door and survey the carnage. Five, gulping like a goldfish, was still standing at the machine-- now with a spray of oil splattered across his shirt. Green eyes crinkled when she looked at him, and Vanya had to admit the persnickety owner was attractive. That was a simple fact. But the unabashed stare she found herself on the receiving end of could only be described as bedroom eyes.

An attractive man suddenly became damn fuckable in a blink of an eye.

Even when he regrettably opened his mouth again, “Don’t feed my dog.”

Vanya shrugged her shoulder unconvinced at his tone. She raised at hand in goodbye, smiling softly when Five mirrored the gesture back at her; screwdriver still in hand.

“I’m getting us seasonal latte options next,” she told Klaus when he emerged after her into the street.

Klaus held up his cup in triumph, “Free today. Thanks to you. He just kept staring at your ass…”

Vanya felt emboldened all the more, “Pumpkin Spice Lattes might cost more. Like a blowjob in the backroom on a sack of coffee beans…”

“You do you,” Klaus replied. “I just want a PSL.”

[letbenfuck2021]

untitled drabble; for @fivevanya‘s end of august event - fiveya week - [3/7 prompt - time]

“It's about time.”

The sudden outburst causes John Lambert's attention to cut to Five. He’s about to admonish the errant teen for disturbing the class before there’s a click and creak from the other side of the room. The door to the classroom is cracked open ever so slightly, just enough for a small figure to peak head and shoulders through the doorway. A young girl smiles apologetically over at him and opens her mouth to say something just as he too is about to usher her in. Neither of them get a word in before Five interrupts. 

“You're late," he grumbles and waves the girl over.

Half a second later the door creaks open wider and a young girl inches into the room. This must be Vanya. Or as his employer probably would have referred to her, Number Seven. When Lambert had first been offered the position to be a private tutor of foreign literature teacher and in the employ of a billionaire no less, he had been overjoyed. Lambert is fresh out of college and the commission Hargreeves offers is better than anything he could have hoped for,

Vanya is a tiny slip of a girl, ordinary and mousy. It’s the first time he’s seen her. She’s oddly absent in the few family pictures that are scattered throughout the Hargreeves mansion and she hadn’t been present when he had first been introduced to the children three days ago. Hargreeves had lined them up and introduced Lambert’s new pupils, referring to them only by numbers. He thought it was a joke, some sort of Sound of Music reference but after this brief introduction both he and the children are dismissed and Hargreeves says no more on the matter. It’s the chimp, Pogo, who tells Lambert their names, Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Ben, and that there is one other that he had yet to meet, Vanya. The only one who lacks a second moniker is Five.

He learns in passing from the other tutors about Five. Brilliant and charismatic, a literal genius but a smarmy little bastard. During his first lesson with the children, the little twerp had barrelled question after question and incendiary comments at Lambert. Thankfully, he’s been silent today, at least until the arrival of the seventh Hargreeves child. 

"You must be, Vanya,” he says to the girl, deciding to ignore Five’s outbursts. “Your - uh...Mr. Pogo informed me that you’d be late today. Please have a seat."

She nods but instead of going to the empty desk near the door she bypasses it entirely and makes a beeline clear across the room to where Five is seated. Then, with no preamble, she takes a seat on her brother’s lap. For a moment, Lambert thinks this must be some kind of prank, a joke that they are all in on. He glances around at the rest of the children for some trace of humor but they are dutifully focused on their reading. Looking back at the pair, he finds they have shifted slightly. Vanya is now stradling Five’s right light and is leaning on her elbows. Her hair falls forward, blocking her expression. Five has his right arm around her, his chest flush against her side. 

“Ahem,” Lambert grunts.

Neither seem to notice. Five murmurs something to her then points to a line in the open book on the desk in front of them. Vanya nods as Five, with the arm that’s around her, pulls the hair that’s fallen around her face over her shoulder. From there, his right hand trails down the center line of her back before finding its final resting spot on the small of Vanya’s back. 

Lambert clears his throat again this time louder and more insistent. 

“Yes?” Five replies nonchalantly.

Lambert narrows his eyes at Five but it’s the girl’s attention he’s trying to get. 

“Miss Vanya,” he says and her attention snaps up from the page to him. “Please have a seat at your desk.”

This elicits a confused look from the girl. The rest of the siblings continue their reading, uninterested in the unfolding spectacle. Vanya glances at Five, who still has that penetrating gaze trained on him, then back to her book.

“This is Vanya’s desk,” Five says a wide smirk forming on his face.

This throws Lambert for a moment but he’s taught teenagers for years and he’s quick to volley back a reply.

“Then you will return to your desk, Number Five.”

Five’s smirk doesn’t falter. In fact, it only grows wider.

“This is my desk too,” he says. “That desk is mine and this desk mine. They are both mine and they are both Vanya’s.”

Lambert glances at the rest of the children. They are still engrossed in their reading, unfazed by Five’s antics.

“What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours. Right, sis?” he says merrily to who Vanya nods distractedly, her eyes still trained on the reading.

With that, Five wraps his long arms around Vanya’s middle and squeezes tightly. He pulls her with him as he leans back contentedly in his chair. Vanya’s own hands come to rest naturally on his. Her eyes never once leave the pages in front of her just like the rest of the siblings. Only Five is looking up at him, leveling him with a trenchant stare. Lambert’s dealt with difficult students before but none like Number Five. 

In truth, he finds the kid downright frightening. All of them should be terrifying to him. He knows from the tabloids what these kids are capable of, has seen pictures of the aftermath of their “justice” but it is hard to think of any of these well-behaved adolescents as vigilantes. The only one that gives Lambert the creeps is Five, who’s eyes seem to give off a predatory vibe even when discussing something as harmless as Hugo. Still, Lambert is unwilling to back down.

“You will separate yourselves. Now, Number Five.”

His stern tone causes the rest of the Hargreeves children to finally look up from their reading. They all stare at him but Lambert has his eyes trained on Five who doesn’t break eye contact even as he turns his head to whisper something in his sister’s ear. It isn’t until Lambert hears a small ‘um’ that his attention shifts away from Five to Vanya, still comfortably leaned against her brother’s chest. He notices that Five’s hands has shifted from her middle to her lap. They sit loosely upon her thighs as if it is the most normal thing in the world. A light blush colors the girls cheeks as she speaks. 

“May I go to the bathroom?” she asks politely.

It’s such a sudden shift in tone that he has to take a moment to stare blankly at her before replying.

“You just got here.”

“But...I really have to go,” she insists.

Vanya stares up at him with large, round mournful eyes. He feels as though he’s just kicked a puppy and after a couple seconds he relents.

“Go.”

At the very least it means she’s no longer straddling her brother’s thigh and the rest of the class can get back to the lesson. However, as soon as Vanya is out the door, Five rises from his seat and begins to make his way across the classroom. He gets as far as opening the door before Lambert can catch his bearings and call out.

“And where exactly are you going, Number Five?”

“Where do you think?” Five replies cooly, turning that too-wide smirk on him.

But it’s different than before. Gone is the humor and boyish gaiety and replacing it is something sharper, predatory. It sends a shiver down Lambert’s spine. Before Lambert can get a word in, Five slips out the door leaving him slack jawed and without words. He scrambles to continue the lesson and he is glad that neither Five nor Vanya return for the rest for the rest of the class. 

The next day, he walks into the room to find them seated together again but this time it’s Vanya on the seat and Five in her lap. It’s shocking and frankly comical. Five is already a good head above Vanya but their current positions only serves to exaggerate their natural height difference. Lambert has to hold back a bark of laughter. 

“Hey, Mr. L, is this better?” Five jeers. 

He’s back to playful it seems. And though Lambert is still concerned, he’d rather not have a repeat of yesterday. So he rolls his eyes and tells them all to open their books. He figures, there are some battles you just can’t win.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

a/n: well at least I got one thing in on time, here’s to hoping I can get anything else in

[bee-a-garbage-shipper]

Fiveya Week Master List

For @fivevanya‘s Fiveya Week 

August 26: Day 1 - Apocalypse  August 27: Day 2 - No Powers AU August 28: Day 3 - Time August 29: Day 4 - Family  August 30: Day 5 - Jealousy August 31: Day 6 - First Kiss/Last Kiss September 1: Day 7 - Free Choice 

[number-fiveya]

when u wanted to participate in fiveya week but classes started this week and ur running on .02 hours of sleep so there isn’t time :c

[jubberry]

me watching people post their stuff for fiveya week knowing i didnt prepare anything

[queeenpersephone]

I hope you'll permit me to ramble about five and vanya because their dynamic is just so intriguing and I have quickly sunk. parallels have been made between odysseus and five, lost at sea for forty years and in time for forty five years and made blatant with the greek quote he shouts. so I get that his siblings are supposed to be odysseus' crewmates he tries to get home. BUT, though coincidental still neat, vanya also parallels penelope, the wife who faithfully waited for him to come home.

same anon, last rambling promise. again it's probably coincidental, BUT someone pointed out that when klaus starts a group hug between allison and vanya, five interrupts by asking if ben was with them, and then when klaus rides shotgun next to vanya, five steals his seat. five was always the one to drive, even in the first season, but somehow doesn't mind sitting shotgun next to vanya. could be forgetting another instance in s1, but regardless I thought it was cute.

ramble away anon!!! you can always reach out to me with these sorts of asks lol i love them SO much. 

100% odysseus and penelope is a great fiveya au idea!!! i can get behind that and i literally have nothing to add to your analysis bc it’s so good. not something i considered, but i would love to see a fic tbh!

i noticed that too! i love that five interrupts that hug bc although i think he’s glad that vanya is getting more attention from their sibs, i do believe that he’s possessive enough to hate it a little bit bc when they were kids, he always had 100% of her attention. i also love the car scene (as do all fiveyas haha) but mostly bc five looking at vanya as she genuinely smiles at their sibs like he’s never seen her smile before just kills me. but yes to your point! five is jealous of anyone who has vanya’s time and energy, even if it’s their sibs. i’m actually writing right now about ben and vanya being friends and five having to deal with that, bc his mixed feelings are so much fun to write!

[fivebyseven]

day 1 - apocalypse

FIVEYA WEEK HAS BEGUN! Day 1 is apocalypse which is pretty self explanatory. Five thinking about Vanya while he’s in the apocalypse? An alternate universe where Vanya travels with Five to the apocalypse? Or Vanya just causing the apocalypse herself? But wait! Don’t feel limited to just canon compliant stuff. Go wild! Zombie apocalypse? Some sort of Interstellar-esque natural decay of the world? Or a completely different interpretation of the word - “the end of the world” could mean a lot of things, figuratively! Go wild!

Remember to tag your posts as fiveya week and tag this blog @fivevanya. We look forward to seeing your entries! Have fun everyone!

[jjdoggies-fanfics]

Day 2: Dancing/Training

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27344002

@fivevanya

Title: A Life With Love, Is A Life That’s Been Lived

There was a second, waiting with bated breath, that Five had sincerely hoped that Vanya would be able to shatter the wine glass. Just like Reginald had tried to get her to when they were four. He waited, hoped, and nothing.

Vanya dropped her stance, slumping down a bit in defeat, obviously dejected. They’d been working on her training for nearly two hours, with very little results. There had been a few early successes, five glasses were nicely shattered, seven had been cracked beyond usage but not shattered, and the remaining five glasses, all of which had been ‘borrowed’ from the bar, remained in perfect condition. 

Five knew that, if he really wanted to, he could push Vanya to keep practicing, to either shatter or crack another wine glass. He could, and she’d listen. But, that sounded like something Reginald would do, and that was the absolute last thing that Five wanted to do. Emulate Reginald in any possible way, but especially not when he was with Vanya. 

Rather than continue on training, and when Five noticed the saddened look on Vanya’s face, knowing that she was blaming herself for not being able to magically have perfect control of her powers in an instant, despite how convenient it would be if she did, he instead decided that he was going to get her to stop being upset and be happy, well, happier.

Trying to think of ways he could accomplish his goal, preferably without causing too much noise or using his powers, considering that Reginald still didn’t know that they knew about Vanya’s powers, along with all the manipulation and lies he’d spread to the rest of them to keep her from finding out, Five figured it was best to be as discrete as possible. The only way they’d been able to be in the training room, practicing Vanya’s powers in the first place was because someone, who will remain unnamed, accidentally took out the camera that had been set up and Reginald hadn’t been able to get it fixed. (A few missing parts and tools helped with slowing the process)

Then, it hit him. The perfect idea.

“I’ll be right back.” Five told Vanya, waiting for her to give him a short, still sad, nod before jumping into Luther’s room. Unsurprisingly, he found Luther and Allison sitting together on Luther’s bed, awfully close for people who still denied being in a relationship. Children. “I need to borrow your record player Luther.” Five said, one hand already on the device, the other pulling one of the few classical records that were a part of the collection Luther had, one that Vanya had mentioned as one of her favorites. (Not forgetting that she’d enjoyed listening to it, despite Luther only playing it once as ‘He’ (Allison) had claimed he didn’t like classical music that much.

Before Luther, or Allison, could protest Five, and Vanya, borrowing his record player, Five jumped back into the training room, finding Vanya picking up some of the bigger shards of glass from the wine glasses, most of which were already in the bin Five had been storing them in after taking them from the bar. But, when he landed Vanya quickly, and carefully, stopped picking up glass shards and looked over at him, thankfully already in a slightly improved mood since he’d left for a mere minute at most.

“Five,” Vanya said, “why do you have Luther’s record player? Are we gonna use it for more training?”

There was a mixed look of sadness and interest on Vanya’s face, while Five shook his head telling her, “Nope. We’re gonna take a break from training for a bit.” 

“Then, why bring the record player?” Vanya asked him.

Five, rather than immediately answering her, not ignoring Vanya’s question, he plugged the record player in, after settling it on a box that did not hold glass shards near the sole outlets in the training room, and carefully set the record onto the player and dropped the needle before jumping to Vanya’s side.

And, rather than being a bit startled like anyone else would’ve been, she gave him a small, excited smile before it practically dissolved in front of him, before she asked, “What are we doing then Five?”

Again, rather than immediately answering her, again not ignoring Vanya’s question, Five instead took a hold of one of Vanya’s hands and guided it to his shoulder, taking a hold of Vanya’s other hand while his first hand settled, carefully, onto her waist.  

At first, Vanya has been tense, unsure of what he’d planned; but as quickly as she’d tensed, Vanya relaxed in his hold, a playful smile on her face met the smirk on his. “Do you trust me?” Five asked, even though he knew her answer before the nod and soft ‘yes’ spilled from her lips, emboldening the smirk on his face ever so slightly more as he told her, “Just follow my lead.”

Five, as the one with more formal ballroom dance training, because that was something they needed to learn, took the lead while Vanya, who knew more than Five had suspected, and would definitely ask about later, simply followed. While they dance, Five, not that he’d’ve told Vanya, could feel her pounding heartbeat in the palm of her hand, and also felt it slow, until he could no longer feel it quite as easily, just as Vanya rested her head on his chest. Never had Five been so pleased to be in a child’s, although now they were roughly seventeen, body, relishing in the whole three inches he’d gained on Vanya. 

As much as he wished they could stay like that forever, silently swaying together to the music, not really dancing anymore; they both knew they’d have to return to reality, and the forevermore eternal hell of living under Reginald’s roof, again. And the telltale sound of a clicking cane, indicated that Pogo was nearing the training room, and, in turn, causing to Vanya quickly pulling away from him with a look of panic.

In yet another quick decision, Five took a hold of Vanya’s hands and jumped them both up to his bedroom, abandoning the record player which was going to most definitely get Luther into trouble if Reginald found it, but Pogo hopefully wouldn’t say anything about it. 

Upon landing in his bedroom, Vanya, who was not nearly as used to spatial jumping as Five was, nearly toppled over; and would have if Five hadn’t still had a hold on her hands, keeping her steady. “Are you okay?” Five asked, having waited a moment as Vanya regained her balance, who gave him a quick nod.

Just as Five was about to ask Vanya about their next training session, she perked up mere seconds before the bell Grace used to call them for meals rang out, giving them a five minute warning. Vanya, seemingly suddenly, regained a newfound confidence; one Five didn’t see often, but loved seeing. There was a look in her eyes, one that Five very much liked, as it often led to something he’d wanted to do with Vanya for nearly fifty years.

Vanya pushed up onto her toes, Five leaning down slightly, his lips meeting hers. Every time they kissed, it gave him the same rush of excitement, and oddly nerves, just like he’d felt the very first time they’d kissed. The night before he’d left, forever seared into Five’s mind as the biggest mistake he’d ever made in his life. Pushing the tainted memory away, Five cupped the side of Vanya’s face, ignoring the slow burning in his lungs as what had started as a simple kiss evolved into a near makeout until a knock on Five’s door startled both of them.

“Five?” Ben, at least is was their least intrusive sibling, “Are you coming?”

While Vanya frivolously tried to fix any stray hairs on her head in preparation for dinner with Reginald, there weren’t any out of place anyhow, but regardless, Five called back to Ben, in hopes of avoiding any further questioning or scrutiny, “Yeah, I’ll meet you down there.”

And, it worked. Ben left with the parting message through the door along the lines of ‘seeing him soon’ and ‘he better not be late’ before walking away. He waited for Vanya to tell him when Ben had walked back downstairs, their brother not wanting to be late to dinner and incur the wrath of Reginald. And once Vanya told him the coast was clear, Five took a hold of Vanya’s hands again, jumping into her abysmally small bedroom. Five waited for Vanya to, once again, regain her balance before pressing a quick kiss to her lips, and telling her “I love you, Vanya Hargreeves.”

Five, being the narcissistic man he is, waited for Vanya to tell him, “And I love you, Five Hargreeves.” dissolving into childish giggles and a bright smile on her face; which undoubtedly caused a smirk, a smile, to find its way onto his own face before he jumped downstairs to face the proverbial devil. 

[jjdoggies]

Day 6: Endings/Beginnings

moodboard for my day 6 of fiveya week, endings/beginnings

link to fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27429154/chapters/67049683

[jandjsalmon]

Wow. This was fantastic!

“Vanya, Alone”

[ apocalypse/no powers au ] @fivevanya

The world is ending in twenty-four hours.

By the first hour, Vanya is still frozen in place, pressed against the edge of the couch, eyes glued to the television screen, unseeing. The TV is an expensive one, large and glossy and dark, pressed flat against the striped white of the living room wallpaper, and it draws her focus like tunnel vision into a black hole, warping the room like a gaping mouth without its teeth.

Oh, Vanya, it leers, I raised you. I coddled you to adolescence. How could you look away?

Only an hour ago, millions of Americans had been staring at their televisions in similar rapture, or listened with bated breath to the crackle of their radios, but it’s over now, and the clock has just begun. The curtains have been drawn, blocking out sunlight that Vanya can only picture in her head, an image that she can barely draw up in her vacant mind. They’ve been drawn for weeks; the windows are large and glass and obscured, and the room, despite its wideness and whiteness is draped in shadows. It’s become a narrow, cramped sort of space, one that has room for only one girl and one television that sings of downfall. The curtains have been closed for weeks.

Tick, tock, goes the clock, and as the countdown begins, the planet erupts into its final mad scramble. Vanya, though, is still, unbelieving and nearly unmoving. Her house is empty, and Vanya is alone.

By the second hour, Vanya tears through the barren hallways of her home.

It’s sleek and modern and filled with sharp edges that are unforgiving even under the light, even after sixteen years of tears and laughter and praying for love, and the floorboards are traitorously slick under her socks as Vanya hunts for her phone. She finds it on the kitchen counter, opens it, and waits ten minutes for Allison to pick up. She lets it ring and waits without hope. Allison, she knows, left the country weeks ago, her family’s last-ditch attempt to outrun the end of the world. It will never work, Vanya knows. Allison and her family will be dead, just like the rest of them, but it doesn’t make the screen hurt any less.

It goes to voicemail.

Vanya makes her peace.

By the third hour, Vanya thinks to ring for her father, and she sits, legs crossed, listening to it ring up until the fourth hour. Reginald’s been on a business trip for the last three days. Vanya doesn’t call him during work, not since she was seven. He doesn’t call her, either.

Reginald doesn’t answer.

After the fourth and by the fifth hour, Vanya rages.

She doesn’t dare walk across the kitchen floor, not when shards of glass and shattered dishes are strewn across the tile like desert sand, glittering beads against the ground. The few portraits Reginald deemed appropriate to hang against the stark white of the walls are torn from their nails and cracked along the frames, splintering the glass and revealing the skin of the portraits inside. Vanya loathes these pictures, and always had. Even as a child, she thinks, she looked somber and small and alone. Even in pictures, Reginald is unreachable, the impossible, improbable man to adopt a daughter out of the blue and discard her just as abruptly.

Even in memory, her father is a cruel man.

By the sixth hour, Vanya considers drawing back the curtains and unlocking her windows, and looking out into the world one more time. She is a coward, and the windows remain locked. Vanya remains alone.

By the seventh hour, Five shows up at her door, dripping rainwater onto the doormat, umbrella clenched in a white-knuckled hand.

She peers through the spyhole of the door silently, debating what to do, but the look on Five’s face makes the decision for her.

The moment the door opens, even a crack, Five brushes past her in such a brusque manner that Vanya can’t help but be offronted. He steps into the threshold dripping puddles onto her floor, gropes around with a wet hand to find the light switch and flicks it on, slamming the door behind him. Vanya gapes up at him, and her neighbor only looks down at her over the end of his nose.

It’s been eight hours, and Five has made himself at home, slinging his wet coat and blazer against the floor in a haphazard pile, pulling back her father’s leather armchair and throwing himself into it with s certain relish, propping his feet up against the coffee table. Vanya looks on in amazement, and only just remembers to ask, “What are you doing here?”

Five has been her neighbor for their entire lives, in the house just adjacent to hers. There’s a distant time, she remembers, when they might have been close, when they might have been best friends, but that’s long gone now, and he’s just the handsome boy next door who wears the face of a stranger. He turns his head, unsmiling, and looks at her as though she’s the one who’s lost her mind.

“I’m here for the end of the world, of course.”

By the ninth hour, Vanya’s given up on getting him to leave. He won’t budge, and she doesn’t have the courage or the strength to grab him by the collar and physically drag him to the door. Five is staying, and Vanya is relieved.

By the tenth, she and her neighbor are mind-numbingly bored, and Vanya instead drags out all the board games she can find.

The eleventh hour passes, and Vanya has discovered that Five is unfairly good at chess, disturbingly invested in monopoly, and terrible at reigning in his temper. By the end of the hour, he gets Vanya to smile. This is fun.

By the twelfth hour, the two have ransacked her kitchen. Reginald leaves the kitchen well-stocked before he leaves, if only so Vanya has “no excuse to needle him” while he’s traveling abroad. They gorge themselves on s’mores cooked unevenly over the stove, on chips and apples and pulled pork they heat up too long in the microwave, on toast and lemonade they find stored in the back of her freezer.

By hour thirteen, Five finds a bottle of vodka, crammed in the back of a cabinet, and Vanya doesn’t even chastise him for snooping without permission. She only grabs the neck of the bottle and sets it on the counter. It’s the end of the world, after all, and they’re lonely sixteen-year-olds looking for a final thrill.

At the fifteenth hour, Vanya’s phone, luring forgotten on the couch, lights up. Vanya is in the kitchen, getting drunk for the first and last time of her life.

“Vanya, it’s me. I’m stuck at the airport, but the damned flights are packed and I - I don’t think I’m going to make it...goddamned Russians…no, that’s not...I’m sorry, Vanya. I just want you to know that - your mother. I never talked about her, I know that, but she loved you. I tried to get to you, but it’s just - I’m too far away, and - it’s never the right time for us, is it? I know that I’m hard on you, and I know that - well, never mind. That hardly matters. I’m going to die alone surrounded by Russians, and you - I left you alone, I know, and I wish - I wish you weren’t alone. That’s. That’s all. Good -” the calls begins to break up, replaced by static. “- time - normal life - instead of me, and I’m - about that. Vanya, I -”

That’s the last time Vanya will ever hear her father.

By the sixteenth hour, Vanya and Five stumble back into the kitchen, giggling insanely to themselves, and she sees the phone.

By the seventeenth hour, Five is at a loss. He’s witnessed Vanya at her most vulnerable moment, and now she’s locked herself in her room. He’s never been in this house before, but he notices the portraits and smashed dishes, chaos that erupted before he arrived. Reginald, he reasons, was not a good man, but he tried, and this is the result.

“Vanya?” Five calls rapping against the door.

“What?” she responds in a choked voice. She’s been crying.

“We have seven hours before we die. Tell me about yourself.”

After a long moment, the door opens just a crack. Vanya’s been his schoolmate as well as his neighbor, for sixteen years of his life, and she’s always been shorter than him, but she looks so small now, peering up at him in ragewonderconfusion. He wants to take her by the hair, threading his fingers through it, and yank her to him, keep her close and feel her heartbeat against his chest. When he was a child, he wanted to hold her hand and never let her go. When he was twelve he wanted to hug her, because she was always alone but he was right there, over the other side of the fence. He’s sixteen, and he wants to know that she’s real.

She lets him in, and Five lives just a little longer.

He’s pathetic. God, it’s sad.

The eighteenth hour goes a little something like this.

“Seven things?” Vanya asks, and Five nods. The springs of her bed are noisy, but he supposes that there’s never been more than one person on it at a time, and the springs have never had a reason to make so much noise in the first place.

“Yeah. Seven things about yourself that you would never tell anyone, ever. Not if the world was going to end.”

Vanya flops over and scrunches up her face, deep in thought. Five takes pity on her.

“I hate zucchini, with a passion,” he starts, and she laughs a little.

“I used to love Harry Potter.”

“Not anymore?”

“No. It let me down. When I was little, I convinced myself that I had superpowers.” Vanya smiles. “I thought that when I turned eleven, I’d find out what they were. I thought that I’d be special, that I wouldn’t be alone, that once they found out I was special and extraordinary, I could leave and I wouldn’t have to come back. Ever.”

“Hm.” Five rolls back on the mattress, craning his neck up to her bare ceiling. “I don’t think Luther is my real biological brother. I think that Mother cheated on my father with her brother in law and had Luther, but slept with my father around the same time to make sure that they could pass off the pregnancy as legitimate instead of the product of an affair. I did the math, and the time when he returned from the military doesn’t line up with Luther’s birth. I’ve done the punnet squares. Dark is a dominant trait, blonde is recessive. There are too many dark-haired members of my family for blonde to randomly pop up, unless at least both of them had blonde hair. I look like my father, Luther doesn’t, but he looks exactly like my Uncle.” He turns to Vanya. “Your turn.”

“I think I want to marry a man like my father.” Vanya says it quickly, lets it escape with a humiliated ferocity, and expects Five to grimace, to look at her and say, what the fuck, Vanya, but he only started at her, unblinking, brows furled.

“Explain.” Five commands, and she does.

“He’s - he’s absent, most of the time, but he’s never really - never really gone. He’s mean, when he is here, and when he isn’t, because when he’s here he wants nothing to do with me, but still dictates everything I do, from what I eat to what I wear to when I can leave for the bus in the morning. He’s so mean and I’ll hate him for it. Then he’ll leave, and I’ll hate him because he’s gone, and because he’s my father and he’s nothing but cruel.”

Five hums. “Sounds like a bastard. Why on earth would you want to marry your father?”

“I want to meet a man like him, because even if he’s never around and always around, maybe he’ll change. Maybe I can change him, or maybe - maybe I can change, and then it won’t hurt as much.” Maybe I’ll have done something with my life, Vanya means. Maybe I’ll matter.

Five keeps looking at her, rolling onto his side on the duvet, face propped up with a hand. She could count his eyelashes, he’s so close.

“I think that time travel is real, and possible.”

“One of the reasons I love playing violin is because my mother used to play it, and Father hates when I remind him of her.”

“When I’m bored, I eat peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches.”

“My first sex dream was about Allison.”

“My first sexual fantasy was about this mannequin that I saw in a Macy’s store window when I was twelve.” Five says without shame, maintaining eye contact.

“What?” Vanya asks in spite of herself, cheeks burning red.

Five only shrugs, unabashed. “She was wearing sequins,” he reasons, and they move on.

“My favorite color is blue. White drives me crazy.”

Five doesn’t say anything for a long while, so Vanya plows ahead. “I drink tea because it’s calming, but I hate the taste.”

“I wear wife-beaters and collared shirts because I need to be as different from Luther as possible so I don’t develop an inferiority complex.”

“I’ve kept the house boarded up because I’m scared.”

Vanya says that last bit into the open, sounding brave, but then she sits up and looks over at the Five with such an expression that he knows he’s damned. “Why did you come here, really? I know it’s because the world is ending, and we’re all going to die, but wouldn’t you rather - I don’t know. I’m not the most exciting person to spend your last yours with.” Five only stares at her, closer than he was before. She can see herself reflected in his pupils, and they’re blown wide, gleaming black.

”I love you. Since we were kids, since - since forever.” Five tells her, and takes her by the hand.

The nineteenth and the twentieth hour pass in a blur.

Vanya feels as though she barely knows Five, and yet she knows him better than anyone she’s ever known in her life. Death, she thinks, and its descent illuminate life, makes it transparent and readable, renders its exoskeleton a notion instead of a physical thing, and she can see Five for the first time, more clearly than she’s felt anything. It’s the fear, she decides, that prompts humans to love.

He tastes her and feels her and fits himself inside of her with so much tenderness and rawness that it feels like love, and Vanya lets go against her childhood pillows and rolls her eyes up into her head, baring the whites to him. Vanya feels full. She feels loved.

The twenty-first hour is the afterglow, lazy and slow and like syrup, stretching like gold and spent pressed up against each other, somehow even more intimate.

“I wouldn’t change it,” she murmurs into his bare shoulder. They’re both still naked, children of Adam and Eve from the start, surrounded by their own sweat and clothes and blankets, but they’re warm and sated and buzzing on the high of what they’ve just done for the first and last time. “I was so, so afraid, but I still didn’t want to be alone. Thank you.”

Five’s umbrella is propped up against the front door, sopping wet. Her living room is strewn with board games and discarded cards as though a storm has passed through. The kitchen is in joyful disarray, and nearly empty bottle of vodka lays on the counter, threatening to roll off and onto the ground to join the spread of broken glass. The portraits of Vanya and Reginald are smashed against the stairs, frames caught in the railing, and somewhere in the attic rests her mother’s things, collecting grief that’s thick like dust.

Reginald paces back and forth in an airport in Russia, trying to stir up the last bit of love he has or ever has had for his daughter in hopes that his final moments won’t be cold, dark, and miserable.

Allison’s family is losing a race against time.

Vanya and Five are lying naked on top of her covers, and she asks for love, the most courageous thing she’s ever done in her life.

Five kisses the top of her head, darkly indulgent, and Vanya’s heart skips in her chest at the domestic bliss of it all. She’s only sixteen, but she’ll be sixteen forever, and this - this feels like it could be forever. “You’re braver than you think,” Five says.

It’s hour twenty-two, and Vanya was wrong, because it’s not the first time, it’s the second time, and teenagers have a longer refractory period than she would've thought. It’s just as good as the first time, maybe even better, because this time she has the courage to say his name, as many times and she wants, and this time she’s lucid enough to hear him say hers too. He’s said it all this time, and she’s never heard.

Vanya’s not alone.

God, I hope he’s proud of me, Vanya thinks, and then she closes her eyes and loses herself to the feeling, blooming and alive.

Tick tock, goes the clock, and it’s hour twenty-three. Their time is almost up, and they’ve dozed the better part of it away, clinging to each other like childrenloversfriendshumans. Vanya’s eyes snap open in the dark, and she turns to Five, who’s still sleeping, still as the dead. Vanya shakes him briefly, and he responds by reaching out for her, blindly, but she only smacks his hand away.

“Wake up, Five.”

“What is it?”

“Wake up,” she snarls, livid as an animal, sitting up and tearing off the comforters, naked and white as the day she was born. Five blinks blearily, still groggy - the sleep and the sex has momentarily dulled his articulateness, but she doesn’t care about that as she lunges across the bed and reaches for her window.

She throws the blinds apart, furious, and yanks the window up with strength she didn’t possess mere moments ago - she’s fuming, raging, roaring in her mind all the while. Vanya struggles with the window briefly, before it goes skidding and slams into the frame above, rattling in its slot - Five shouts in protest while she ignores him - and bright light, real light, shoots onto their faces and nearly blinds the both of them.

Vanya opens the window to the world, and the sunlight paints them gold.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Vanya’s not alone.

[letbenfuck2021]

ayyeeee fiveya tag on ao3 broke 200 fics! congrats everyone!!! yay fiveya week!

[bee-a-garbage-shipper]

@fivevanya’s Fiveya Week - Day 1 - Apocalypse:

"The world is a goddamned evil place, the strong prey on the weak, the rich on the poor; I've given up hope that there is a God that will save us all. How am I supposed to believe that there's a heaven and a hell when all I see now is hell." - Aaron B. Powell