you were everything

Y/N, the Stowaway

(Currently under editing)

☂ That's one badass stapler ☂ 

If there were a competition for Worst Dad Ever, I would win by a landslide. No, really. Dear old Father Reginald, esteemed billionaire and mastermind behind the greatest superhero team in New York, was, in reality, a first-rate psychopath. 

Who would've thought? Other than everyone who knew him, of course. 

The poster family of justice and heroism was actually just a tangled mess of trauma, buried under expensive merch and a few well-polished success stories.

Not that I was ever part of that.

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 grow? So would my powers. And if my powers grew, Reginald wouldn't have the obedient little puppet he wanted.

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. And as if that wasn't enough, I can influence emotions—bend anger into serenity, twist love into fear. It's complicated, but in simple terms? I control things.

And that terrified him.

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.

Well.

Too bad for him.

Because now he's dead.

And no, I don't feel sad about it. Call me cold all you want, 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.

Dad never missed a dose—until the night before. When the pills wore off, it was like waking up in someone else's body. My mind jolted back into itself, awareness slamming into me like a freight train. For the first time in years, my head was clear. My powers were awake.

And I could feel everything.

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.

And honestly? I don't know if I want to see them.

Because the thing about ghosts is—sometimes, they don't stay buried.

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:)