#tua series | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cas-backwards-tie · 11 months

Text

Chapter One: The Intrusion

Just Like Me

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Five Hargreeves x Sparrow!Samantha

Summary: Arriving home from school, you find there are a group of intruders in the compound. Friend, or foe, it isn't clear. Though you don't use your abilities anymore and aren't much of a fighter, you're curious to learn more when the intruders mention growing up in the same house and sharing a father. The only question is: will they explain?

Warnings: Cursing, Violence, Anxiety, Insecurity, Angst, Complicated Family Relationships, Degradation

Words: 4.9k

A/N: So while I meant to write the same story going off my interpretation of the comics two years back, I decided I'd just try and fit my OC (though it's written in reader style, her attributes scarcely mentioned) into the show considering that I've recently finished the third season! Details about the OC's backstory will be revealed throughout the series.

Your hands release the grip on your backpack’s shoulder straps and come up to cup your ears. It’s the alarm blaring throughout the house’s speakers. “What the hell?!” You grumble to yourself. “Really?” Through the foyer, you can spot five strangers all dressed in black, bewildered looks on their faces. Each person’s clothes are different–no uniform look to them–and they all differ in shape, size, and style from what you can see. If they’re robbers, they’re downright stupid showing their faces, and even attempting to rob the Sparrow Academy. The sound of your Father’s voice lets you know that whatever is going on, there’s a disagreement in progress. Ready to confront the situation and get answers, you walk through the doorway and stop once the five intruders become six upon better view.

“Wrong again. This isn’t your home, this is-” Father speaks, his know-it-all tone eliciting a wry look on your behalf. Not wanting to deal with his holier-than-thou attitude, you attempt to emotionally brace yourself. Leaning against the doorway, you watch the scene before you in silence, trying to gather information. If anything, stealth has always been your strong suit. Always surprising people with your light heel-to-toe steps, it’s unintentional the way you’ve gotten everyone in the house scared at least once or twice simply going about your business.

“What are you talking about? This is the Umbrella Academy,” the dark-haired female questions. With her back turned away, you don’t get a good look at her, yet your eyes flit to the person closest to you. A small, thin, seemingly frail person with shoulder-length brown hair. Arms crossing over your chest, you next spot the knives within the shaggy-haired man’s vest. Your heart beats a little faster. They could be dangerous, you think. Beside him stands a lanky man in a trench coat and a cowboy hat–an odd look to say the least–and finally, across the room stands a boy who looks around your age in appearance. It’s funny, though you’re dressed alike, it appears as though his uniform is too small, while yours finally fits perfectly. His outfit looks like a knock-off version of the Sparrow Academy uniform, only if the colors were reversed. Clad in a maroon blazer with the Academy’s insignia on the breast, you don a matching tartan skirt, maroon and navy, along with white knee-high socks, and mary-jane shoes. After years of thinking your uniforms would never fit properly, you’ve finally grown into them over the past year or so as your teenage body continues to grow.

“-This is the Sparrow Academy.” He finishes his explanation. Father’s hazel eyes take in your appearance, though you have no idea what he’s thinking or planning. Your eyes flit between him, the intruders, and up to the second floor. It doesn’t slip your notice that the shaggy-haired man withdraws a knife from his vest.

“Dad, who the hell are these assholes?” Ben’s disgruntled tone breaks the silence as all eyes shift over to him. Just as you’re about to verbally add on, yet you’re beaten to the punch.

“Shit…” the intruders all murmur simultaneously in an unsettling and eerie manner. Silence overtakes the room for a moment as they all simply stare at your brother in wonder. Maybe they’re just crazed fans, you realize. It wouldn’t be the first time someone has attempted to break in with ideas of catching a view of the infamous Sparrow Academy and getting an autograph, photo, or some shit.

“Ben,” the soft tone that leaves the cowboy hat-wearing man feels wrong. The look in all their eyes is seemingly that of one who stares fondly at their favorite work of art, or muse. While you truly know Ben, it’s always the fans who make him out to be some admirable and righteous guy as if he’s not a giant asshole now.

“Is that really you?” The big one asks, stepping closer to him. Whatever wrong feeling lies in your gut only amplifies with those words. There’s no mistaking that of the tone someone only uses when they know someone personally. And you’ve never seen these people in your life. They could be from before, you mentally remind yourself, a sullen feeling swirling in your gut at the thought of your lost time. Yet, the look on Ben’s face is one of perplexion, confusion, and worry. That’s all you need to know that these are still, in fact, strangers.

“And who are the weirdos on the balcony?!” The accusatory comment flies immediately after the big one’s question, all eyes drawn up to said location. Using this opportunity of distraction as a means to move, you slink past the small and thin person diagonal to you and stand next to Ben. He doesn’t seem keen on your appearance, not a word uttered in greeting. Shifting the backpack to sit more evenly on your shoulders, you wait for someone to say something- for Dad to explain, or at least tell them to get out of his house.

“They are the Sparrows. My children.” A faint rumbling shakes the house, and whether or not it’s either fans outside, more intruders upstairs, or someone’s upset feelings leaking out through their powers, you brace yourself. Whoever these people are, the stunned expressions on their faces don’t sit well with you. So… they’re not fans, you question, suddenly at a loss again.

“I’m sorry, what do you mean your children? That’s not possible, old man.” The teenage boy stupidly asks as he starts closing the distance between your Father and himself.

“Well, clearly it is since we’re standing right here,” you point out as if it’s obvious. Which it is. Though your mothers were from different parts of the world, and your births having happened in minutes, spontaneously, it was certainly an event. Nevertheless, Reginald Hargreeves is your Father.

“Of course it is! I think I’d know, wouldn’t I?” The preposterousness of his tone only mirrors the amusement and ludicrous nature you hold in your own demeanor as it seems these people might be… well, delusional. Clearly, since they’d thought to break into the world’s biggest crime-fighting legion.

“How was school?” Marcus asks you quietly as he approaches to stand on your other side. He still listens intently to the conversation, even if he actually acknowledges your presence and the fact that you’ve only just gotten home. Before you can respond about how it’d been boring considering you’re only starting to learn about basic chemistry and things that, honestly, you’d already started to learn at the Academy before things went… haywire, someone speaks up.

“Everyone else can see Ben, right?” Cowboy Dude (as you’re now referring to him in your mind) proposes, gesticulating as he starts to approach all of you. Brows furrowing in confusion at this statement, you shake it off and turn your attention back to your older brother to your left.

“Well, certainly not as exciting as whatever the hell is going on here,” you joke, eliciting a chuckle from both Ben and Marcus. Surprising that the prior was even listening.

“Cute hat, Sundance,” Ben remarks, never failing to miss a chance to whip out a comeback. The disturbed looks from the intruders only elicit an amused smile from you. It’s then that you make eye contact with the little one of their group, his eyebrows furrowed similarly to the one you held earlier when trying to decipher who they were. His head tilts slightly as his green eyes search yours. Suddenly your Father’s voice attracts everyone’s attention once more.

“They call themselves the Umbrella Academy, a group of scheming, perfidious malcontents who accosted me in the fall of nineteen sixty-three when I was away on business in Dallas. Be warned, they claim to be my spawn.”

“What?” Trying to process and take in this information, it makes no sense that they’d been alive in nineteen sixty-three, and yet one of them looks your age. They’d all at least be well into their sixties by now. The following words from the dark-haired, cape-wearing woman drone in one ear and out the other as you try to wrap your head around everything your Father had so casually said.

“I don’t know yet, but it’s concerning,” the little one garners your attention again, your eyebrows now mirroring his as you try to piece this puzzle together. Siblings? There’s no way… is there? Wouldn’t you know? Wouldn’t this have come up, before? Why does Father look on edge if this is the case? Why would they accost him, then? There are too many questions and too little information to come to any certain conclusion.

“Is he telling the truth?” Marcus asks. Even if this is all new information, he’s always the best at keeping things going and taking assertive action. It’s why he’s Number One.

“Does that mean they’re our…” you cut yourself off, not daring to voice the thoughts going through your head. “That’s impossible.”

“You’d think,” the little one comments.

“Says the kid who would be in his sixties if it were true,” you respond lamely, not really intending to speak it to anyone in particular.

“Yeah, well the truth is mercurially dynamic at best, little girl,” the kid bites back. He moves his jaw in an unsettling way, your own jaw clenching at the degrading nickname. Despite your outward appearance, you are not a little girl, by far.

“Not the part about us being perfidious,” the thin person, who you can now see is a woman, defends. Her voice is fairly quiet, yet with all the thick tension in the air, there’s more than enough silence to be filled.

Cowboy Dude backs her up. “No, we’re amateur-fidious, at best.”

“-but we are his children. This is our house.” She claims. Samantha takes the moment to gauge her sibling's reactions, everyone looking about, if not more, stumped than she is.

“Yeah, yeah. We, uh… grew up here.” It’s the Big One, now. Alphonso takes the opportunity to mock him, which only irks you and elicits an eye roll because something doesn’t feel right about this. Though it’s unlikely and something only someone desperate would come up with… for some reason you believe there’s a possibility they’re telling the truth.

“How’s that possible?” Your voice is quiet, mind turning its gears as you can’t work out what’s missing in this equation. A few theories have formed in the last minute or so, but there’s no definitive answer here. There are still crucial parts missing in their explanation.

“I kind of think we would have noticed you,” Sloane remarks, pointing out something that all of you had to have been thinking, her soft voice helping to ease the tension if for only a moment.

“Hi, I’m Luther.” The Big One extends his hand out to Sloane, yet she doesn’t move. Smart, on her part, though the sudden shift in attitude and the kind smile on his face only make the whole situation that much more eerie and confusing.

“Hi Luther,” you respond with a small wave and a remiss attitude. It really doesn’t seem like the time, nor place, yet you play along.

“Okay. None of you belong here.” The dark-haired glove-wearing girl asserts, clearly having had enough.

“Woah! What?” Taken aback by the sudden aggressiveness in her tone, you take a step back. Defensiveness ebbs into your being. Alphonso audibly gawks at her words, Jayme making a noise of discontent and incredulousness, Ben almost growling under his breath.

“Oh! Well, then. I guess we’ll just pack our bags and move out,” Fei remarks sarcastically, eliciting a smile thrown over your shoulder to her. She’s always been much faster with comebacks than you, though not as good as Ben. It’s a quality you’d never been able to pick up, really, and the whole… IceCube Incident didn’t exactly help.

Christopher plays along with Fei, though proposes that the supposed ‘Umbrella Academy’ will have to beat us if they want our spots in the house.

“You slay me, Chris,” Ben chuckles. Christopher’s remark elicits a few laughs from your siblings and a tight-lipped look from you. It’s hard not to smile, knowing they have no chance of beating you all, yet you don’t want to appear cocky. After all, you don’t want anyone to fight. Fighting is never the answer.

The telltale sign of heels clacking against the black and white tile of the foyer announces her presence. “I wasn’t expecting company,” Grace sighs. “This is the best I could do on short-” she starts to malfunction, one eye rolling slightly as she struggles to get her words out, voice box revealing a deeper tone than that of the tone she’s been programmed for, “-short notice.”

“It’s fine, Grace. Thank you,” you respond, a small and tense placating smile on your lips.

“Mom,” the shaggy-haired man practically whispers, breaking the silence. Mom? Out of all the things he could’ve said… he said that. His tone was soft… again, a familiarity echoing the similar manner that, Luther–you now know his name–addressed Ben earlier.

“Mom? She’s a robot, you perv.” Despite the seriousness of her accusation, Alphonso chuckles, of course. Their humor is… something, alright. The two of them, together… yeesh. They never fail to surprise you with what will come out of one of their mouths.

“Jayme,” your tone comes out as a warning.

“What?” She defends, “It’s creepy as hell.”

“It’s not a robot!” The man defends.

“Hey, don’t you call him that!” Luther steps in.

“Or what?” Ben instigates, stepping closer to Luther.

“Why don’t you come closer and find out?” He quips immediately.

“Wow, okay,” your exasperation is evident in your voice. With a shrug of forfeit, you turn your questioning gaze toward Marcus, who meets your eye contact with an expression of anger, patience being tested.

“Luther! Guys, chill!” The small woman begs, coming closer as if to intervene if something were to go down. Though considering the size of Luther and Marcus, you doubt she’d be able to do anything besides get crushed between them.

“Think I’m afraid?” Ben posits, puffing out his chest as if to scare away the giant of a man Luther is. Though an honorable notion for protecting your home, it’s… all too cocky of him. But really, it’s Ben; what do you expect from him?

“Stand down, Ben,” Marcus’ warning tone brings you a sense of relief, not wanting to have to fight this… Umbrella Academy.

“Look at that! She’s got a voice!” Ben taunts the small woman, amused by her attempt to dissuade them. So much for that, you think.

“How about I hide that big Rubik’s Cube up your ass?” Shaggy-hair threatens, eliciting a fire you hadn’t realized had been slowly boiling in the pit of your stomach.

“Christopher isn’t a Rubik’s Cube, you ass!” Marcus extends his arm in front of you before you can properly lunge in the man’s direction. Always the big brother. In a split second the room erupts into many separate conversations, comments, threats, and warnings. It catches your eye–the familiar glint of Jayme’s spit–the black liquid hitting Shaggy Man’s cheek. Eyes widening, you whip your head around to her. “Jayme! You just started things!” You whisper yell at her.

Your older-looking sister squints her eyes at you before rolling them dramatically, a sigh falling from her lips. “Well someone had to. Besides, he started it when he called Grace ‘Mom’ like some kinked-up weirdo,” she asserts, “and now? I’ll finish them.” Arms crossed over her chest, she sits on her hip in triumph, eagerly watching the Shaggy Man go through whatever delusion his mind conjured through her spit. Hazel eyes returning to him, you watch with concern, eyes shifting as you spot the teenage boy eyeing you behind him. As soon as your eyes meet, he looks up at Marcus. Taking him in, you don’t think it’ll be hard to take out this supposed Umbrella Academy if it really comes to it, though you’d rather not. Cute as the boy is, even if rudely witty, he doesn’t have to get hurt.

“I don’t know what circus you escaped from or how you got past our security, but we’re done here. You got 30 seconds to get out of our house.” Marcus has his famous eerily calm mask on in spite of the obvious tension simmering in the room.

“And if we don’t?” Cape-Girl bites back, crossing her arms over her chest with a smug look upon her face.

“Marcus,” your biting tone has a tacit plead in it, one he’s very familiar with. Though you haven’t been on a mission since the IceCube Incident, you still try to prevent fights from breaking out within the walls of the house, begrudgingly to your sibling’s amusement, it always seemed. Luckily, for the most part, Marcus would take your side and help rein in the chaos Jayme, Alphonso, Ben, and Chris always seem to want to participate in.

“Then we’ll have to settle this the old-fashioned way.”

“Ugh,” you groan. Of course it would come to this. As you hear Ben crack his neck and watch Marcus get into a defensive stance, you crack your knuckles. Everyone’s stances mirror similar defensive poses with little idiosyncrasies within each person.

“Sam, go!” Marcus instructs, pointing toward the doorway. He knows how you feel about fighting, yes, but more than anything he knows you won’t use your powers after the Incident. Regardless of whether they’ll need them or not, without using your powers, you’re a liability. Someone he doesn’t need to be distracting him from fully being invested in the fight.

“No! I’m not going.” Getting into a defensive position next to him, you ready yourself, not bothering with your backpack since this will be quick. “If we’re gonna do this, might as well get this over with.”

“Go,” he quietly pleads in the same tone you’d used earlier. Just to spite him, the way he’d ignored your request earlier, you decide that fighting these punks of intruders and letting off some of the rising anger they’ve caused you is the healthiest manner of coping. You’re not going anywhere, because defying your big brother is about the most satisfying thing you could do.

“Agreed,” Luther responds. Readying themselves for a fight, they clearly don’t care about your little side conversation as everyone watches to two biggest members of your family square up.

“Get him, Luther!” Cowboy Dude seems more enthralled to watch, yet his optimistic and supportive attitude seems amusing in juxtaposition to the situation at hand. Does he really want to watch his brother get beaten to a pulp?

“Look we just fought a literal army. Okay? This doesn’t need to get ugly. Let’s all just calm down, and let’s talk.”

“A literal army? What the hell…” Eyeing the woman with confusion, you’re starting to worry Dad was right. Maybe these people are liars and far more crazy than he’d made them out to be.

“Psst-” the sound captures your attention, hazel eyes shifting over to Cowboy Dude. “-Ben-er-rino! You look so much better alive than you do dead. Am I right? Except that haircut.” Lips forming a small ‘o’, a silent ‘ooh’ leaves your lips. You know that’s it. Ben won’t take that.

“What the hell did you just say?” Ben retorts, obviously offended. Yep, you called it.

“Wait, dead? What are you…” It’s then that you register his words, murmuring more to yourself than anyone, it’s just another piece to the growing puzzle.

“Come on, come one, stop will all the hostility, Mr. Grumpy Pants. Oh wow, nice scar. Muy macho.” Cowboy Dude persists, approaching your brother with a passive disposition.

“I wouldn’t if I were-” the comment leaves your lips before you can stop it.

“Shut your mouth!” Ben yells, readying himself for a fight.

“You shut your mouth and just hug your brother-” Ben punches him square in the jaw. The hat goes flying as the man stumbles backward, rolls over, and off the coffee table, which really, seems a bit dramatic to you. Ben can’t punch that hard. Maybe Marcus, but Ben? No way.

“What the hell? You didn’t have to do that!” Luther raises his voice, closing the distance between him and Ben.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I did!” Ben bites back.

“That’s right, he did,” Alphonso comments.

“Yeah,” you agree. The man did come off as a bit aggressive and forward.

“Hey, get back!” Marcus warns, swooping between Ben and Luther easily, keeping them apart physically.

“Luther, hey!” The small woman yells. Marcus shoves Luther away when he won’t stop closing the distance.

“Back off!” Marcus shouts.

“Marcus!” You shout. Luther winds his arm back and throws a punch. Marcus dodges and easily kicks Luther square in the chest. The big man goes flying back through the air.

“Oh shit!” Someone says before the big man lands on top of the Cowboy Dude, knocking over the couch, cupboard, and all the decorations atop it.

“Bad touch, Luther! Bad touch!” The pinned man yells, yet your attention follows your Father leaving the room. All of a sudden, Marcus is hopping over the coffee table towards Luther, the teenage boy is running your way, Sloane, Alphonso, Jayme, and Fei all go their separate ways, leaving you open and vulnerable. Panicking, you step aside, Ben still holding the space he’d been in, readying himself for the incoming kid with a devilish look in his eyes.

“Come at me, litter box!” Shaggy Man yells at Christopher, who you spot floating a few feet above you, heading in his direction. With a relieved breath, you gather yourself, eyes flitting from person to person as you try to figure out where to insert yourself. In the midst of your panic and internal struggle, you see the kid punch Ben backward out of the corner of your eye. Ben immediately comes back to punch him, but the kid dodges only to kick Ben away.

“Don’t hurt my brother, Short-Shorts!” You yell, the attempt at name-calling simply coming off the top of your head as you charge at the kid, going to punch him, yet he elbows you in the stomach before kicking you down, all without sparing a glance in your direction. To be fair... announcing your incoming probably wasn’t the smartest idea you’ve had. Ben knees the kid, all while laughing, as he dodges the incoming punch.

“That’s the best you got, really?” The amusement quickly shifts. “Don’t need your help, pipsqueak!” He yells, still fist-fighting the kid, eyes on him, yet you know the words are directed at you. Ben finally manages to get a punch in before swiveling around the kid’s punch and landing another right in his stomach. With a grab of his arm and another quick shift of position, he’s got him in a headlock. On your feet, you stand in front of them with an unamused look on your face.

“At least I’m trying,” you huff, “more than I can say for you!” The kid suddenly disappears with a fwip sound, and both you and your brother’s eyes widen in surprise. Ben looks around, as do you, yet the next fwip sounds to your left, signaling his appearance.

“You’re alive-” The kid stumbles backward, regaining his balance, “-that’s great… or possibly horrible, I’m not really sure yet.” Fixing his hair, you take in what he’s said, more than plan what to do next.

“Is that some kind of weird smack talk?” Ben questions. It’s the second time someone’s mentioned him dead, is it really possible that-

“-It’s more of an existential problem, really, Ben,” he’d cut off your thoughts, attention shifting back to the moment before you. With a wide step and a cocked fist, you punch him across the face, sending him stumbling back again.

“Awesome! Here’s your next problem,” announcing his next move, you know what’s coming. A tentacle lunges from his chest toward the kid, only for him to disappear with another fwip. Left reeling for his position, it’s only as your attention draws back to Ben that a look of astonishment takes over your face. Pointing up to the balcony, you tacitly give him a heads-up by pointing the boy out.

“You know, even though you’re a total asshat now-” Ben sends his tentacles surging toward him again, giving you the perfect opportunity to escape. Running toward the foyer to head upstairs and get the kid, you pass Fei fighting the Cape-wearing woman, who you happen to trip on the way up the stairs. Mary janes shoes clomping up the many steps as fast as you can, you quickly find that the kid has vanished, again. Leaning over the railing he’s down below; a groan escapes your lips. As you turn to head back down, a burst of energy hits you, smacking you against the railing, and taking your legs out from under you. On the floor, you start to get up, only for a knife to plunge into the wood a few centimeters away. Breath caught in your throat, you stare in shock and disbelief, fear, and adrenaline surging through your veins.

“Chris!” You yell, running toward the knife as you spot Christopher floating in the opposite direction, Shaggy Man following suit on the other side of the walkway. Attempting to dislodge the knife from the wood is hard, it’s smooth, and the wood now is splintering. With a few grunts of effort, you extract it, readying yourself as Christopher leads him past you and goes over the railing. Not expecting the man to follow, you throw the knife, sending it flying right where the railing stops. Shaggy Man does a flip over the railing, leaving you wide-eyed, mouth agape. The knife misses him by an inch or so, going into the wall on the other side of the living room balcony.

“See? We’re hugging! This is progress!” Cowboy Dude yells, despite being squished in a constricting hold of Ben’s tentacle. Though amusing, you know you need to help. Turning to head back down to the first floor, you spot the kid having teleported onto the walkway with the cape-wearing woman above the foyer. While they’re on the opposite side of the adjoining room, you watch as Jayme strides toward them.

“Hey, Short Pants! What’s up?” Her taunting voice asks him. As you start to head in their direction, you hear the boy tell his accomplice to leave them so she can help the others. “What are you, their mascot?” Jayme quips.

On the other side of the balcony, you stop dead in your tracks as he teleports again, the now familiar fwip telling you so. “More like their ringer,” he answers her question.

Punch sending her to the ground, you can’t help but let out an audible “Ooh,” as it looks like it’d hurt. Just as his eyes draw up to you with surprise and a deadly look within them, Jayme’s spit lands on his forehead, hand following suit.

“Hey, gross, all right?” The slowing of his movements tells you he’s in whatever delusion his mind conjured from her venom. Taking the opportunity to finish closing the distance between you and your sister, you both watch the boy act out whatever’s going on in his mind.

“Really? You’re no help,” she grumbles at you, disappointment and annoyance evident as she dusts off her pants and stands.

“Delores?” The boy questions, your eyes following his line of vision, even if you knew nothing was there. You can never be too sure, you figure. Today has already been weird as hell. As the boy starts walking toward the other staircase, you give Jayme an unpleased look. “Mi sei mancato anche angelo mio, più di quanto tu possa immaginare. Vieni da me.”

“Italian?” You question, eyes locking with hers, a surprised look on both of your faces.

“Yup.” As it starts to look like he’s making out with someone, your sister lets out an “Ugh,” which elicits a laugh from you as your eyes land on her rather than the disturbing image before the both of you. “Are they all perverts?” You shrug. Jayme walks up to him and doubles him over with a roundhouse kick. He tumbles down the stairs, his sounds of pain elicit a grimace, nevertheless, you join your sister at the staircase’s landing. With a flip of your hair, you turn and run towards the other staircase, heading back down to the living room. Spotting Luther slipping through the bookcase passageway and the kid gone from his spot on the tiles, you try to find the others. Just as you’re headed back through the foyer, another fwip resounds across the table. With a yelp, the kid appears.

“Shit, it’s gone!” he looks around, eyes landing on you for a moment before finally resting on the scene in the living room.

“What’s gone?” You ask, yet his attention makes yours shift as well. The thin woman lies on the floor moaning in pain.

“Vanya, get out of there!” He yells, approaching the living room. Without thinking, you follow suit, intent on keeping him back as no one else needs to get hurt. It’s sad, really, but you can’t save everyone. Her hands are clenched in fists and you watch as your siblings form a circle around her, slowly closing in. With a stumble backward the kid suddenly disappears again. In the split-second all you’d seen was panic and fear, leaving you afraid of whatever he’d been afraid of. By the time you look back at the living room, a burst of energy suddenly sends you flying through the air backward, your whole body smacking against the wall, knees buckling as you slowly crumble to the floor.

~~~~~~~~

taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

#five hargreeves x sparrow!samantha #five hargreeves x oc #five hargreeves x sparrow!reader #five hargreeves x reader #tua series #just like me #tua reader insert #tua season three #five hargreeves x sparrow!oc #queue be back later #my writing #g writes #five hargreeves x reader series #the umbrella academy reader insert

43 notes · View notes