Hi! Can I request D30 + D24 for Klaus Hargreaves? Thank you!
Summary: In order to get over his fear of ghosts, Klaus decides to throw a party for them, and invite his siblings and you in there as well.
Prompts: D30. Party + D24. Ghosts
GHOST PARTY
When you started dating Klaus, it soon became clear why he was using drugs so much — being one of those kids from -89, it was no wonder he had had a hard time growing up and dip himself into some deep waters. But then you came into his life, and he got motivation to get off the hook and eventually he got a crazy idea how to face his fears, make his fears a friend instead.
So now the Academy living room looked cozier than ever — fairy lights strung up along the walls, some old music in the background, all of the siblings (miraculously) gathered around.
Ghosts did not eat or drink, but they did enjoy hanging out, much like the living did. The problem was just that dead people were from so vastly different timelines that it was hard to estimate what kind of a party they’d attend, so you decided as classic as possible. Jazz in the background, tidy and clean decorations, calm atmosphere rather than party hats and playing Twister.
Luther was deep in one-sided conversation with the corner of the room, since Klaus told him there’s a soldier named Herbert who died in the first world war, who wanted to hear all about space and the Moon, and Luther had happily agreed to be polite.
You weren’t sure Herbert was real, though — at least if you judged it by how Klaus looked at the sight. Luther was awkwardly explaining about his trips to the Moon to Herbert even when he didn’t see the guy, and Klaus just kept stifling laughter every time he glanced that way. You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend, and he pointed to the other side of the room.
"Herbert is over there," Klaus said, barely holding it together. "He's been mingling with his wife for the last fifteen minutes. Apparently Luther's whole thing, his explanations about modern science and physics, Herbert said it's like being lectured in a language he doesn’t speak, and since he can't exactly interrupt to ask questions, well…"
"Klaus," you said, "you have to tell him."
"I absolutely do not," Klaus said cheerfully. "Herbert is having a great time watching. Luther is also having a great time, he finally thinks someone is interested to hear about his space adventures. Everyone wins. This is the best party I've ever thrown and I have been to some genuinely unhinged parties."
You looked around, seeing all the siblings sitting around, not fighting for once, Diego trying so desperately prevent himself from tapping his feet to the beat of jazz, and you agreed that actually, yes. This was a good party, even if it was more like a social gathering than a party. But Klaus seemed to enjoy himself, chit-chatting with some ghosts (or Ben), and his fear or trauma of being locked into a mausoleum was nowhere to be seen. It turned out ghosts had more in common with him than he thought, and you both had faith on him finally getting off drugs for good, even if withdrawal symptoms would last for a while.
But now he’d gotten a taste of life, a good life, and you knew he wouldn’t want to mess it up.
Come one, come all, and let some bored guy on the internet do his matchmaking mojo on you!!
Baseline info:
if you want a romantic and/or platonic match, your gender pref (if romantic)
your positive and negative personality traits
habits and hobbies
likes and dislikes
Go nuts. The more info you give me, the more accurate I can write you^^ Don't be afraid to gush about yourself.
You can request for a specific group in the show (ie. specifically the Umbrellas, or specifically the s2 cast); or tell me a character/group you don't want to be paired with (ie. if you for some reason HATE the Swede triplet Oscar in particular you can tell me and I'll make a note of it HA)
And lastly, I don't feel comfortable romantically pairing minors and adults, so if you are a kid can you at least age up your self insert so it's less awkward for the both of us
The world was changing and not in the cinematic way people like to warn about, no fire raining from the sky or flying pigs. No, we were changing, becoming the worst versions of ourselves. The kind of people who have forgotten to be understanding when helping others, and who choose convenience over compassion. It was a sick kind of change, the kind that guarantees demise. And it was already happening.
We watched Vanya grow up. Watched her flinch at loud noises, shrink into herself, and how she learned envy before confidence. By turning a blind eye to her, we didn't stop the world from ending. In fact, we built the thing that would destroy it. And yet, how could I blame myself when I was the only one trying to help her?
Everyone was still so afraid of stepping out of line and acting without permission, of achieving the hero status we could’ve been. I stood there with my fists balled up as the floor beneath me cracked and splintered. The academy groaned like it was alive and finally decided to swallow us whole. If I stayed any longer, it would take me with it. And maybe that's what we all deserved.
But this couldn't be my ending, not here and not on these terms.
If I'm the sole survivor from Five’s perspective of the future, there’s gotta be a reason. I'm destined for something greater than wallowing in the regret of others; I just need to take control long enough to find it.
At that moment, I had two paths forward. Escape on my own and hope for the rest to make it out. Knowing that if they didn't. I would carry the knowledge that I could’ve gone after them, that I chose not to. And that thought would haunt me long after death. Or I could try to save everyone and die with no place to come back to or worse risk being left behind, alone and forgotten by the only people I knew. But at least I would do something right.
I wanted to have at least a split second to think about it.
But the sound of screaming and the house lurching once again forced my decision.
We have to get out of here.
Klaus and Diego stumbled towards me with pale faces as they shouted over the chaos. Their voices blurred together, into meaningless noise I couldn't grasp. Then I heard it. A melody, faint at first but growing louder with every second, until it turned into a screech. It wasn’t human, it was wrong, all wrong.
Sharp and invasive, slipping through my skull, it called out to me like a dog whistle while everyone around me was unaffected.
They grabbed me, shook me, pulled, and nothing worked.
“What’s wrong with her?” Klaus motioned to Diego.
I watched myself as if I were standing outside my body. My limbs were heavy, useless. A fear pierced through me like something I've never felt before, my body was going into auto mode to shut down and crumble.
“I don’t know.” He said slowly. “I think she’s in shock.”
But then, the noise cut off abruptly; instead of relief, I felt heavier. The silence was worse than the noise.
I knew before anyone said her name.
Vanya was free.
Out of her cage.
And she was bringing the academy down with her.
I gasped and regained my sight like the air had left my lungs. “We need to find everyone!” I shouted, not knowing the volume of my own voice.
“Have you seen Mom?” Diego cried out.
Grace.. innocent yet caught in the crossfire, docile by design, proof that we only know how to love what we can control, just like we did with Vanya.
She wasn’t being left here alone..
As we ran through what remained of the upstairs, we checked everywhere, but it was like the woman had turned to smoke and slipped through the cracks just before we could reach her.
We began to grow restless, “Maybe she got out already?” Klaus suggested, his voice strained.
No, we knew there was a possibility of her being higher up, near the bedrooms. The thought lodged itself into my chest. I could maybe squeeze through the staircase. But with the breaking condition of it there was a risk of losing body parts that I would have had no time to heal. The ceiling had already started to collapse in that section, slamming into the stairs without warning.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Diego grabbed my arm, yanking me back. His grip was tight, desperate, and scared of letting go. Without even realizing it, my body started to gravitate towards the stairs on its own. I wasn’t fighting the danger, no, I was drawn to it like I wanted to fall. As I looked back at him, I think he knew my answer to his question.
“Look out!” Klaus’s voice cut in.
As if time slowed down.
I saw the ceiling above Diego fracture, hairline cracks racing across the surface before it gave way. The collapse hit us like a wave, slamming down and pinning us to the shattered ground. The air rushed from my lungs in a sharp gasp I couldn’t finish. Dust filled my mouth.
I couldn’t move.
My legs went numb instantly, useless beneath the weight. My upper body twisted and strained on instinct alone, fingers clawing at debris that refused to budge. The fight drained out of me as the cold crept in, slow and heavy. Somewhere above, blood seeped through broken tiles and splattered down, staining everything in dark, spreading patches.
This was it.
I was weak from the day. I couldn’t fight.
The one thing I couldn’t run from. Couldn’t escape. Couldn’t hurt myself through and survive anyway.
It felt like a message carved straight into my bones. Stop fighting. Let it happen. Let death wrap its arms around you.
No one is coming.
As my vision blurred, Diego’s face was the last thing I saw clearly. The last thing I thought of. Another failure I’d carry with me, wherever this led.
I closed my eyes.
And somewhere above us, more debris began to fall.
…
There was no afterlife this time.
..
That was the first thing that scared me.
..
I waited for it. For the familiar pull, the sense of crossing over, the certainty of being gone. Instead, there was nothing. Awareness without direction. Thought without a body. I wondered, distantly, if this was what being truly dead felt like. Or worse, if I wasn’t dead at all and this was just my mind refusing to let go.
Then something wrapped around me.
It was peaceful. Not empty. Not cold. It felt like being held in a way I had never known how to ask for, like warmth pressing into all the places I’d taught myself to keep numb. A hug I’d been denied long enough to forget what it should feel like.
And then I knew.
It felt like Ben.
Not the idea of him. Not a memory. Him. He was everywhere, threaded through me until there was no space left to doubt. I smelled vanilla, faint but unmistakable. Felt the worn fabric of his favorite jacket against my bare skin, the one he always shrugged off like it didn’t matter. I heard his voice too, barely there, soft and close, like he was afraid of startling me.
It terrifyingly made sense. If this were the afterlife, of course, it would be Ben. Of course, he would be the one waiting.
But this wasn’t like last time.
There was no distance. No veil. I wasn’t seeing him.
He was holding me.
The realization cracked something open. Relief bled into grief, tangled so tightly I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. He’d been here. All this time. Watching. Staying. Choosing to remain even when the rest of us kept moving forward without him.
..
And then it was ripped away.
The warmth vanished violently, torn from me as the world rushed back in. Sound. Pain. Weight. Reality is slamming into place.
…
“Hold still!”
My eyes flew open.
I felt like I was being dragged out of water, my chest burning as I gasped and wheezed. My skin was slick with sweat and blood, my body trembling as my life forced itself back into me. That was when I felt it. An icy pressure at the back of my neck. Not rubble. Not debris. Something deliberate. Something lingering. Almost curious.
Klaus had saved us.
The thought barely fit in my head.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, breath uneven as my back pressed against his chest. I felt his heart hammering, frantic and alive. His gaze flicked over my shoulder, his expression tightening for just a second before he looked away, whispering something I couldn’t hear.
Diego moved first, rushing forward and pulling Klaus into a rough hug, thanking him between broken breaths for not letting the house crush us alive.
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t.
Someone had saved me. Not because they had to. Not because it was their job. Just because they could. The idea felt wrong in my bones, foreign and destabilizing. I was the one who pulled people back from the edge. The one who stayed standing so everyone else didn’t have to fall.
And yet here I was. Alive because someone else refused to let me die.
My gaze drifted upward, drawn by something I couldn’t explain.
Ben stood there, glowing faintly in the dust-filled light. Solid enough to be real. Soft enough to disappear if I blinked. He met my eyes for a split second, something unreadable passing across his face before he faded once more into nothing.
He’d been here the whole time.
Watching me bleed. Watching me break. Watching me get saved.
And for the first time, I didn’t know whether to be grateful or furious.
Klaus saw it in my stillness. He knew I knew. I could feel myself unraveling, thread by thread; my temper was wearing thin, but there was no time.
“Keep going!” I coughed up. The dust from the debris had followed us even to the side doors of the academy. It would only be a few moments before the whole building came crashing down. I had to be fast. As the two men leaped out the door, not even realizing I wasn’t behind them anymore, they were finally safe from the danger around them. They could breathe the fresh air and even calm down for a second.
Then Klaus stops- “Where’s Y/n?”
..
I’d never been a runner or at least a fast one until today, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins kept me upright. Without it, I would've crashed already, as my body was so sore that all my powers did was intensify the pain. But I could sense at least three steady heartbeats and one sharp-sounding boom. Luther, Allison, Pogo, and Vanya were still here somewhere.
But where?
I tore through even more hallways of the academy like I was lost in a never-ending maze with death taunting me at each dead end. Until I nearly collided with Allison’s frazzled self and Luther, who was closely trailing behind her. Once she realizes it’s me, she grabs my arm with a sense of comfort. If it wasn’t obvious with my disheveled appearance, then maybe it was my exhausted expression that hinted at my state.
“Have you seen Pogo?”
“No.” Luther barked, his voice tight. There was no mistaking the edge in it; his bitterness toward Vanya hadn’t softened, though something in his face hinted he’d started to realize the prison cell wasn’t the answer.
But I couldn’t rest all of the blame on his shoulders now. “Shit..” I wheezed. “I gotta find him, okay? Last one. Klaus and Diego are already outside…” My words drooped with whoozyness. Slapping my face a few times before coughing to return to the present moment.
They both looked at me in their own unique ways of concern, but I didn’t have time for that. “You guys gotta go, now,” I whispered.
Allison shook her head violently, her expression pleading. Luther, on the other hand, understood my words when he pulled her away, casting one last look back at me, the kind of look that could’ve meant a million things.
Before heading back towards the same way I came, I suddenly heard it again. The noise radiating off Vanya made my whole body shake. She was close, and so was Pogo. The sound was loudest in the downstairs living room, where I started my journey just days ago when arriving for the funeral. And then I saw the two of them, speaking, and standing at opposite ends of the space. There was just enough room for me to put an end to this and convince Vanya to stop.
But could I reason with her? I mean, she looked scarcely calm as she spoke; it worried me to the point I started to sweat. I wasn’t close enough to know what was going on, finding myself hiding behind a pole, thinking of a plan instead of jumping straight into action.
“Did you know?” she asked, her voice small, barely above a whisper.
Pogo hesitated, caught between truth and mercy. “He only wanted to protect you from yourself,” he said carefully. “And your siblings.”
I knew immediately that was the wrong thing to say. I edged toward the doorway anyway, slow and deliberate. Then Pogo’s gaze snapped to mine.
Sharp. Urgent.
A warning: stay back. My body understood before my mind did. He was right. One wrong move and she could bring the entire room down around us.
“Did you know?” Vanya repeated. Slower this time. The whisper fractured as her body began to shake.
Pogo’s shoulders sagged. The choice settled, heavy and unavoidable.
“Yes, Miss Vanya,” he said quietly. “I knew.”
The world stopped.
Sound drained out of the room like air from a punctured lung. My thoughts sharpened in the silence, every second stretching thin and fragile. For a heartbeat, I thought she understood. That she saw how wrong this all was. That maybe, somehow, we still had time.
But the quiet was wrong.
Silence doesn’t arrive like that. It builds. It warns you. This one felt like a switch being flipped, like a timer cutting off mid-count.
What was she thinking?
I didn’t even finish blinking before the room exploded.
The walls screamed as they fractured outward, the floor buckling beneath us. Vanya’s power surged in a violent snap, seizing Pogo and ripping him into the air.
“No!”
My scream vanished under the roar of collapsing walls as the academy tore itself apart.
She played with him like a toy.
Pogo’s body twisted helplessly in the air as she turned him over and over, drawing out his agony, savoring it.
Slow. Deliberate.
Revenge measured in seconds. And instead of dropping him onto the floor, she drove his small body straight through the mounted deer head above the fireplace. The antlers punched through his chest, tearing through him with a wet, sickening sound that echoed long after it was over.
That noise stayed with me. It replayed in my head a second too late, like my mind was trying to catch up to what my eyes had already seen.
Blood followed, pouring down in a thick curtain, pooling on the floor beneath him.
I bolted forward.
Hope stabbed through my chest like a blade, sharp and stupid and desperate. I had no plan. No idea what I was doing. I just ran, screaming her name, racing toward a woman who no longer looked human. I didn’t even get close. I didn’t land a hit. I didn’t defend myself or anyone else.
I was airborne before I even realized she’d moved.
The blast hit hot and brutal, my skin screamed as it sent me headfirst into the bar. Glass exploded around me, biting into my body when I landed hard among shattered bottles and the wreckage of early memories. Alcohol and blood soaked into my clothes. My vision burned red as even more blood streamed down my forehead.
She watched me.
Not angry. Not rushed.
Amused.
Like a child watching a crushed insect twitch and try to move again.
She didn’t stop me when I struggled to my feet. She wanted to see it. Glass has sliced into my bruised skin as I forced myself upright, only to be slammed back down again.
Again. And again. And again.
Each impact stole something from me. Strength. Breath. Will.
I was her new toy now.
“This… This is what it feels like to be powerless,” She whispered, breaking into a small grin.
Between blows, my mind betrayed me. I thought of us dancing together while Luther played music, spinning through a moment that felt impossibly distant now. How did it rot this badly? How did it all go so wrong?
I cried out, voice breaking as my body finally gave up.
I couldn’t get up anymore.
I was done.
She stood over me, eyes burning white as she raised her hand for the final blow. I squeezed my eyes shut for the second time today and braced myself.
Nothing came.
When I looked again, she was gone.
No fading echo. No sound. Just absence, as if she’d never been there at all.
But I knew better.
This was real.
As real as the way my hands scraped against the floor as I dragged myself across the room, my legs refusing to listen. As real as the burning in my shoulders as I reached for the small man whose light was already dimming. He was still hanging there. Suspended. Swaying slightly, like a wind chime stirred by a breeze that didn’t exist.
“Pogo,” I croaked, my voice tearing itself apart. “No. No, no, no. No. No. Please.”
The word god lodged in my throat and wouldn’t come out.
What could I do?
My body screamed at me to stop. Every muscle shook, drained, and was useless, but stopping meant accepting what I was seeing, and I couldn’t do that. I clawed at the debris beneath him, fingers slipping in blood, trying to get leverage. I reached up, arms trembling so badly I could barely keep them raised.
He was too high.
I wasn’t strong enough.
I knew it even as I tried again, my teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached. My hands fumbled at his jacket, brushing fabric slick with blood. I couldn’t pull him free. I couldn’t lift him. I couldn’t even steady him. All I managed to do was make him sway harder, the antlers groaning under his weight.
“I’m here,” I whispered, even though I didn’t know if he could hear me. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
It was a lie I told out of habit.
My arms gave out, and I collapsed back to the floor, chest heaving, vision tunneling. The room spun, the weight of it all pressing down harder than the debris ever had. I stared up at him, helpless, shaking, knowing exactly what I needed to do and exactly why I couldn’t.
I didn’t have the strength.
Not anymore.
But I stayed there anyway, hands still reaching, because leaving felt worse than failing. I stared up until my neck burned. His chest still rose. Barely. Each breath looked like it hurt.
“Pogo,” I whispered again, softer now. Begging less. Listening more.
His head tilted, just enough for his eyes to find me. They were dim, but focused. Present. That somehow hurt more.
“My girl,” he said, his voice thin, fraying at the edges. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I couldn’t leave you,” I said. My throat closed around the words. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He smiled, faint and tired, like the effort alone cost him something precious. Blood dripped steadily now, tapping against the floor in a slow, terrible rhythm.
“You’ve always been stronger than you knew,” he murmured. “Stronger than he ever let you be.”
Something in his coat shifted. His hand twitched, weak fingers fumbling at the inside pocket. I watched, frozen, as his grip failed. Small glass vials slipped free, catching the light as they fell. They hit the floor beside me and rolled, clinking softly until one nudged against my knee.
The sound was unbearably gentle.
My breath hitched. “The vials?” The concept of these things slipped my mind entirely. He must’ve grabbed it before the building started to fall.
“Insurance,” he said. Then, after a pause, “The last thing you need to do to get out of here.”
I stared at the vials, my hands hovering over them as if they might burn. I looked back up at him, panic tearing through me. “No. I don’t want this. I want you. Let me help you.”
His eyes softened. He shook his head, barely.
“Some things can’t be saved,” he said. “Only finished.”
The word landed like a verdict.
He swallowed, breath hitching once, twice. “Whatever happens next… You must survive it. Promise me.”
“I can’t promise anything,” I said, tears blurring him into light and shadow. “Please. Don’t say goodbye.”
He watched me for a long moment, like he was memorizing my face, like he was already leaving.
“Goodbye,” he said gently. “My daughter.”
The word shattered something open in my chest.
His head sagged forward after that, the light in his eyes finally dimming as the room fell silent again. The vials lay at my feet, cold and real, waiting for hands that were still shaking too hard to pick them up.
Here it was. The strength I’d been denied. The one thing that could drown out the ache, the fear, the helplessness clawing at my ribs. Power, distilled into glass and metal. A syringe ready. One push and it would be over. The waiting. The weakness.
I didn’t think anymore. Thinking hurt.
The needle slid in. A sharp sting, then heat. Not pain, not exactly. More like every nerve in my body woke up screaming. It rushed through me all at once, like being dragged under and yanked back to the surface in the same breath. My heart slammed against my ribs. My vision whited out.
Then everything snapped into focus.
The weight on my chest vanished. The shaking stopped. My lungs filled easily, greedily. I felt whole. Too whole. Every sound sharpened, every crack in the walls humming like it was alive. Power coiled inside me, dense and electric it was almost begging to be used.
I pushed myself up.
My body answered immediately, no protest, no delay. Glass slid off my palms as I rose, muscles steady, balance perfect. The room felt smaller now, fragile, like it would fold if I leaned too hard against it.
I didn’t look back at him. I couldn’t.
The house groaned again, snapping me forward.
So I ran.
Through smoke, through falling debris, through the burning remains of everything that had already been lost. I didn’t slow down. I didn’t hesitate. The exit came into view, light cutting through the chaos, and I burst through it like I’d been shot out of the wreckage.
I was out.
..
It was hard to understand that the place I called home for the majority of my childhood was gone just like that. The Umbrella Academy building was reduced to a vacant lot that looked ready for reconstruction. Without anything left to mourn or even look at, I went looking for everyone else. At the center of the rubble, I found them in deep conversations with shaken voices; they all looked equally as battered as I did. A hush fell over the crowd as I appeared in front of them. I almost felt under scrutiny beneath their concerned gazes. That was the first time I looked down to take myself in; my hands were stained with his blood, my hair was matted, and my dark outfit was covered in dust from the debris of the crumbling building.
Allison was the first to greet me. She crossed the space between us in a few short strides, her face filled with terror. Without a word, she brushed away any dust sticking to my face.
“What happened?” Luther’s voice chimed in, quiet but edged.
I met their eyes slowly. “Pogo…” I couldn’t help but choke up on my words. “He’s dead.”
As if the silent space could get any quieter, I watched their expressions drop. Everyone rippled with their own reactions, but all I could do was stare straight ahead.
My eyes shut as I tried not to sniffle. “Vanya killed him,” I ended.
“But she wouldn’t—” Diego started, then stopped to contemplate. He knew. “Fuck… Mom, now Pogo?”
My head snapped in his direction. “What?” I croaked.
“When you went inside, Mom was just… standing there on the top floor, waving goodbye.” Klaus’s tone was weighted, his eyes red.
“Oh God…” My hand shot to my mouth. If only I had gone up there, maybe I could’ve pulled her out. My knees buckled, and the numbness in my head swallowed me whole. I collapsed against a pile of stone from the mansion wall, my back digging into it. I covered my face with my hands, trying to hide my expression. All I wanted was to stop crying.
How much more of this could we take?
How many more goodbyes?
“Guys!” Five’s voice cut through the air. He stepped through the wreckage, a newspaper clenched in his hand like a weapon. His face was grim as he held it up. “This is it. The apocalypse is still on. The world ends today.”
I blinked at him, my brain slow to process. And then, suddenly, the edges of my lips twitched not from joy, not even from madness. Just that sharp, bitter laugh that slips out when you’re so far past broken that it’s all you have left.
“Of course it is,” I said, the laugh spilling out louder, harsher. “Why the hell not? We’re losing people like flies, the house is dust, and—oh—surprise! The end of the fucking world is still on schedule.” I kept laughing, but it sounded wrong, like glass cracking under pressure.
“You said it was over?” Luther came at Five.
“I was wrong, okay? This headline—” Five jabbed at the paper. “It hasn’t changed since the day I found it in the future.”
Diego scoffed. “Doesn’t mean anything. Time could’ve been altered—”
“You’re not listening to me.” Five’s tone cut sharply. “When I found it, I assumed this place was gone with everything else. But here we are. The moon’s still up, the Earth’s still in one piece. But not the Academy.”
Klaus ripped the newspaper out of his hands, squinting at it. “I’m so confused.”
“Then listen, you idiot! Vanya destroyed the Academy before the apocalypse. I thought Harold Jenkins was the cause, but he was just the fuse. Vanya’s the bomb. She causes it.”
“We have to find her,” Luther muttered.
Before anything else was said, the sound of helicopter blades cut through the air, sending a second round of adrenaline shooting into us. They were probably just wondering why one of the city’s most famous buildings had collapsed like a bad stage set.
Luther turned back to us. “Regroup at the Superstar!”
Everyone quickly broke into groups and ran in different directions.
One hand grabbed my arm. Then another. “C’mon, sunshine,” Klaus muttered, his tone rougher than usual. He pulled hard, practically hauling me upright. My body almost went tumbling back down, but he didn’t let go. I didn’t say anything to him; I didn’t even know how to start. I barely registered the way the air kept hitting my face as he dragged me to the Superstar. My body moved because he did. My heart… wasn’t sure it wanted to.
We’d never be the Umbrella Academy again.
Goodbye Pogo.
Goodbye Grace.
And good riddance, Reginald Hargreeves.
Fuck, I need a cigarette.
…
Note:
Hey guys, I’m so sorry for the wait in between chapters. At this point I don’t have much to say just that I appreciate you guys for being here still after the show ended. This fanfic of mine has been out for a year and some now! I never thought I’d come this far as a novice writer. It's so exciting to see you guys comment. It fills me with joy. There’s officially one chapter left of season one, and I know you guys want to know more about the reader character. So I will be dropping a QnA after season one is over. Drop questions here or in my inbox and I will answer!!
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This is horrible but I'm having Rio Romeo and Viktor Hargreeves brainrot at the same time please kill me now. Warning reader drinks, swings both ways, and has commitment issues (ha) also there is cheating and it's kinda emo (sorry ben)
"Would you fall in love with me again if you had the choice?"
The moment he said it, your heart stopped.
He had been getting bolder recently, asking increasingly invasive questions that felt like worms crawling through your bloodstream.
To make matters worse, you were a bad liar.
In fact, those past few years together had been nothing short of a miracle. You were horrible for each other. He knew that. You knew that.
"What?" you deflected. "Where is this coming from?"
He noticed.
"If you went back to the night we met, would you make the same choices?"
You breathed a laugh and prayed your nerves weren't distinguishable from ease.
The heat must have made you delirious that week, because the next thing you knew, you were off to Texas with him. Truthfully, this was where you would have to rewind to in order to avoid falling.
"Um. Yeah, I guess," you said.
He was meant to be a one night stand.
"Maybe I'd go a bit lighter on the wine, but it was a good night. What I can remember of it, anyway."
In fact, he was a one night stand until a week later, when you met again in Florida. Must be fate, he told you by the pool, handing you the citrine stone that had come loose from your ring that night.
You had already sold the band, but you kept the stone anyway.
You couldn't take it.
"I would, too." he said. Of course he did. He did it every second of every hour of every day, didn't he? Always finding something new to fall in love with when it came to you.
"You're not curious about what would've happened if you never met me?"
"No," he said almost instantly. "Never."
It was like you were his entire life. You hated it.
You settled down for (what you thought at the time would be) good in Vidalia, Georgia, all peaches and honeysuckle and nuclear family. At first, it was a test, but when he passed, you had no choice but to match his bet, going all in just as he did.
But you had this itch.
And when you scratched it, everything came crashing down on you. There was a tipping point for your nightly spats, and it was your stupid itch. Looking back, you regretted it, but you knew you'd hurt him a thousand times over for your freedom.
You were gone by morning, leaving citrine behind for the city of emerald.
"Are you?" he asked.
"No." A half lie. "I can imagine."
He sat down beside you, arms wrapping loosely around your waist. You felt nauseous all of a sudden.
"I remember when we first started dating. I was so nervous every time you were near me. I must've looked like an idiot," he laughed.
"Yeah," you agreed. "It was cute, though. Refreshing how open you were. Like a puppy. Sometimes I miss it."
The novelty of it, you meant. He was still the same old Viktor, and you had been tired of the whole puppy love routine for the last two years. You'd been ignoring the itch for too long, and it was rotting you from the inside.
"My heart still beats a little faster when I see you," he admitted. You noticed. When would it stop, though?
"Yeah?"
You needed to shoot yourself in the head.
"Yeah. But I think, uh... I'm ready to..."
He took a deep breath. Was he going to...?
"I know we haven't really talked about this much and all, and I actually didn't mean to do this today and I don't have a big speech or anything, but... will you marry me?"
You couldn't stop it this time. Your response was automatic.
"I..."
At least, it would have been if the tears didn't beat you to the punch. Were you in Vidalia again? Someone must have been cutting onions, because there was no way you were crying over a proposal.
"Oh no, love, don't cry..." he shushed you like a baby, wiping your tears with his sleeve. "Hey, look at me. What's wrong?"
The ring clattered to the floor. It was fucking citrine.
"Don't," was all you managed to get out, pushing him back with considerable force. Of course he didn't know what to do, you had never cried in front of him. At least, not like this.
You head felt heavy with blood, cushion clutched tightly to your chest and face. You couldn't breathe, but you didn't care.
An hour passed in silence, Viktor watching you alternate between hiccups and holding your breath. His eyes suffocated you more than the cushion did.
"I'm sorry," he finally said. "I didn't think it'd upset you this much."
You opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sputter where you choked on your own tongue.
"We don't have to get married. I'm fine living like this," he continued. "As long as I have you."
"Vik—" you gasped involuntarily. God damn your respiratory system. "Viktor. I love you--"
"I love you, too," he said, confused.
"But I can't."
"That's fine," he said. "Like I said, we don't have to get married—"
"No, Viktor. You're not listening to me. I can't do this."
"What?" he said.
He had been avoiding it. He'd gone all in on you. Left everything behind to follow you to Georgia. You left him once, and that once should have been enough for you. It was supposed to be him and you forever after that.
But you couldn't do forever.
He knew it in Georgia, when he drove after you for nearly three hours only to see you with the Uber driver at the gas station in Atlanta, and again with the barmaid in Seattle where he found you. He thought he could measure up to them. He hoped he could be better.
You didn't want better, though. You wanted novel, shiny, mysterious. Once the mystery was gone, what was left? You didn't want the grounds at the bottom of your coffee.
I thought I could do it, you wanted to tell him. I'm sorry.
But your mouth and your heart were strangers to one another.
So i was listening to the Anastasia sountrack and i was thinking of Gleb. I've recently binge watched umbrella academy as well and TELL ME WHY i could soooo see five getting sent to 1927 communist Russia by the commision to eliminate a certain blue-blodded anomaly with amnesia and getting conflicted when he actually meets her and follows her all the way to Paris, only to let her go and breach his contract in the process, and run away from the consequences, possibly with her(?). I NEED A FIC LIKE THAT I SWEAR
"Did what?" You drawled, a peculiar grin on your face. You dragged the knife across the marble table. It made the most irritating sound.
Chenle sighed. "If you're going to kill me, then do it already."
"But what's the fun in that?" You chirped. You suddenly put the knife close to his throat. "You haven't even freed yourself of your ties. It's almost like you want to stay here with me."
Chenle rolled his eyes. "I've been in enough timelines to know how this goes." With that, he portal jumped - just to the small space behind you. "The way you keep cornering me, it's almost as if you want to find me."
He placed his hand on your waist. "Didn't you miss me, lover?"
hiiii :3 hope ur having a good day/night/eveninggg, idk if ur requests r open (if the requests aren't open I AM SO SORRY PLEASE FORGET THIS EVER EXISTED) BUUT i was wondering if u could do tua characters with a reader who's scared of steel pipes cause when reader was little the left side of her forehead got impaled with a steel pipe? and reader gets like really tense and nervous whenever they see one and also reader starts to like pick on their skin (i do it every time im nervous)
(ALSO THIS PART IS OPTIONAL BUT) when they ask reader what's wrong reader tries to cover it but in the end they find reader having a mental breakdown cause reader keeps imagining THE most worst case scenarios ever that could happen if reader gets near a steel pipe(s)
OKIEE i think that's it :3 LOVEE ur work btw okie bye byeee
-love, 🩰
girl this is the most insane shit I've ever seen in my inbox 😭🙏 also I saw the pictures (won't post them for your anonymity (to anyone else, it's just a small half circle scar over their eyebrow)) but how does one get impaled by a steel pipe??? I'm so??? but I hope you're alright because wtf 💀 ; anyways I can try but i cannot promise these will be long / very good because I was running out of ideas 💔 ; anyways ty for requesting and welcome to the blog 🩰! hope you enjoy!! ; oh also quick note I do only write gn / they/them readers only but I dont think it affects this whatsoever lmfaoo
TUA ; steel pipe phobia
includes ; diego, klaus, five, umbrella! ben & viktor
warnings ; language, injuries, skin picking
masterlist
DIEGO
yall were out in the sixties trying to find Luther
man lives in a fucking storage shed or some shit so there's exposed pipes and shit everywhere
you started getting nervous walking through the halls, trying to find the ape-man
you started picking your skin just out of habit and Diego noticed
now, he hasn't known you for long
you met in 2019 cause you were friends with Patch and brought both of them lunch / dinner
and you got wrapped up in everything since Patch fucking died
so he has no idea why you're exactly nervous in this moment like you're just trying to find one of his many brothers
"yo, are you good??" he questions
you nod. "uh, pipes make me nervous"
he stops dead in his tracks, looking at you. "why do steel pipes make you nervous?"
"well... when I was younger I got smacked with a pipe and it was really traumatic and... yeah."
you point at the scar on your forehead
he winces
"oh. sorry... just- none of these pipes are gonna fling out and try for round two, okay? just stick close, we'll be out of here in no time"
lowkey doesn't know what to do for you but if you give him things, he'll do them
he's spending most his time with you after trying to help a bit / make you stop picking your skin
KLAUS
you're trying to help klaus back in 2019 (sparrow timeline) with the sewer shit or whatever idk I haven't watched this show in a hot minute
you didn't realize how many pipes were around the area inward
(I'm picturing this more like the sewer described in the young blood book, not the like sewer grate he actually goes down. much more open and you can both stand freely at the end because it's an open box area if I'm making any sense)
but there's small pipes lining every wall and in front of you is a giant pipe as well
Klaus is stripping into his boxers and putting on goggles, rambling about fuck knows what
the echoing sound of dripping water is muting Klaus' voice, you're completely stuck in your own head, picking at your skin out of subconscious habit
he's very aware of the whole back story and fear you've developed, he's known you for years
you were his first friend on the outside dude
he notices. "y/n/n? hey- no picking!"
he swats your hand away from your skin, then pieces together the pipes and anxiety
he sighs, resting his hands on your shoulders
"you can't let your fears swallow you forever! death by pipe is very rare. if that one old guy could survive with a pipe through his head, you can too, trust me"
"you're one to talk about fears."
*dramatic klaus gasp*
FIVE
this fucking man references Phineas Gage any chance he can
straight up BLABBERING bro
you regret ever joining him and ditching the commission
you're standing in the abandoned hargreeves mansion living room, restless, bags under your eyes
you got your powers back 💔
and Lila is trying to swing a metal pipe at Ben
you take a few steps back, picking at your skin as they all argue
five notices, pulling your hand away from your face before eyeing his siblings
"can you idiots stop throwing around a broken pipe and calm down?!"
anytime you pick at his skin, he carefully pulls your hand/s away
he knows no amount of bitching is gonna stop it
especially since it's basically a trauma response
best he can do is stop these dumbasses from wielding pipes
BEN
he feels so bad for you bro
he will refrain from any joking whatsoever
he knows how it feels to be undermined and for insecurities / trauma to be poked at
he's straight up doing whatever he can to stop you from picking at your skin though, especially if it gets bloody
even from the ghost realm / if you can't commune to him, he's doing his damn best
he possesses klaus all the time to make you stop picking or comfort you when you get triggered
it's so uncanny but wtf r u gonna do
if you can commune with him, he's actually up your ass getting you to stop picking
and he'll wrap his ghost tentacles around you because they don't hurt now that he's dead
a part of it is for him coping with the hate he has for his power, other part is because he genuinley because he wants to protect you and doesn't want you to be swallowed by fear forever
VIKTOR
"y/n, stop picking"
it's like a small scolding from him each time you pick at your skin
lowkey feels so bad about your fear and trauma but he has to ask around / post on reddit forums to figure out how to help
dude caused 2 apocolypses because he couldn't cope with his own trauma wtf makes you think he can help you...
he will purposefully keep you away from areas with exposed pipes that he's aware of
