you were everything

Y/N, the Stowaway

(Currently under editing)

If there were a competition for Worst Dad Ever, I would win by a landslide. No, really. Dear deceased father Reginald, esteemed billionaire and corporate superhero manufacturer, was none other than a first-rate sociopath. 

It was obvious, but no one ever thought to look behind the curtains. The poster family of justice and heroism was actually a tangled mess of trauma under some overpriced merch and a few well-crafted success stories. 

Not that I ever had the pleasure of being included in the family jewels. .

While my siblings were out there fighting crime, basking in the artificial glow of hero worship, I was locked away in the dark. A chamber, cold as the goddamn Arctic, designed to keep me in a near-death coma so I wouldn't age, wouldn't grow, wouldn't become the monster he was so sure I was destined to be.

Because if I did, my powers would spiral out of control and Reginald would lose control of me. That, he couldn't have. 

I can manipulate matter in any state—gas, liquid, solid, plasma. I can pull the oxygen from your lungs, freeze your blood in your veins, turn the air to fire. I can influence emotions—bend anger into serenity, twist love into fear.

It's complicated, but Reginald thought me too much of a liability. Apparently children with superpowers are only allowed to have a certain degree of power before they're considered armed and dangerous. So he kept me drugged, half-dead, preserved like a goddamn science experiment. A locked door, a forgotten name, a secret he never intended to let loose.

And then the fucker died. 

I don't even feel sad about it. Call me heartless, but it doesn't change the fact that Reginald Hargreeves was a maniacal, power-hungry, sadistic bastard. The world is better off without him. 

I knew something was wrong when the ringing in my ears stopped.

Reginald never missed a dose of the medley of pills he had me guzzling. The night before he died, he didn't do his usual nightly visit. The next day, my body had fully metabolized the lingering chemicals and it was like waking up in a new body. My mind pulled itself off the floor, crawled back to me and a new consciousness was born.

I was awake.

The chamber was cold, but it was nothing compared to the outside world. My first breath of real air was sharp—a thousand knives slicing through my throat. My nerves crackled like exposed wires as I stepped forward, out of the only existence I had ever known.

The cellar was dark.

A narrow wooden staircase led up to the door. Four steps.

One. Two. Three. Four.

The wood was rough beneath my bare feet. I was wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt, the letters THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY stamped across the front like some sick joke. The fabric hung past my thighs—a small mercy, considering I had the sinking suspicion there was nothing underneath.

By the time I forced my way upstairs, Reginald's body was gone. The press, however, was already clawing at the gates.

The next day, Vanya showed up.

Vanya Hargreeves. My adoptive sister. My only friend.

Dad kept her hidden too, but at least she got to exist. She had a life, a room, a name. She wasn't just a ghost locked in the basement.

Now, she stands beside me, helping me force the reporters away from the house.

I expect the others will be arriving any day now.

The thing about ghosts is that they don't remain invisible forever. Especially not if you keep their bones. 

Author's note:

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter/intro! It's just to give you a bit of an idea of what Y/n Hargreeves is like, and her powers. So to clarify everything up for y'all, she's mentally 28, but physically 15. I've aged Five up to 16, to make things a bit....better, if you know what I mean. I'm considering writing a couple of more ✨ mature ✨ chapters, but I haven't decided yet, so let me know what you think. 

-Author

I'll be posting a chapter a night from now on:)