#i want to say may the odds be in your favor but that's too hg

[rambling-at-midnight]

Invincible

Request: could you write a one shot about five w/ a cold and he’s reluctant to let MC take care of him? ( @five-hg )

Pairing: Five x Reader (Oneshot)

A/N: Reader’s powers are barely explained in this. She’s called The Changeling, because she can shapeshift. When they taken the form of one of the Umbrella kids, she can use their powers until she changes back to how she normally looks.

I actually like the possibilities I could use for that power. Is anyone up for a longer story with a reader that has those powers?

The Hargreeves mansion is beautiful. It’s every aesthetic somehow rolled into one. It’s a patchwork of different eras’ aesthetics, actually, and somehow it works. In the living room there is a fancy bar, animal heads mounted on the wall, imposing artwork on the walls, and strange idol statues on the spare stands. The foyer of the house is mostly black and white and symmetrical, with the staircase the largest attraction, and the area around the staircase in shadows. The kitchen rarely sees its lights turned on, instead relying mostly on the high windows to let in the light. Reginald’s study bare in the inside except for his desk, but stuffed on the perimeter with bookcases and the like. Of course, each kid’s room is different as well; airplanes hang suspended from the ceiling in Luther’s room, and in Allison’s room accessories and magazines can be seen from every angle, just to name a few.

The doors to the children’s rooms aren’t as large and are made out of lighter (in both color and weight) wood than the door to, say, Reginald’s study. While the living room, foyer, and kitchen mostly rely on light from the windows to illuminate the room (the heavy-wrought chandelier in the foyer and lamps around the perimeter do nothing and everyone knows it’s just for the aesthetic too), the mansion’s library is lit only by lamps, as is one of the lower common areas.

If Reginald wasn’t known for being so eccentric, he wouldn’t have been able to pull it off, but somehow he makes the patchwork work.

At the moment, you’re wandering through the maze of shelves to find an interesting book. Reginald’s collection isn’t separated in any way that makes sense; by fiction or nonfiction, or topic, or anything like that. You would ask him how it’s separated by, but you’d probably get punished for your impudence, not to mention he would insult your intelligence.

You jump a tiny bit when you hear something behind you, but it’s only Number Five. He’s obviously here in the pursuit of a study, which is why Reginald favors him so much. You prefer to visit the library to escape from your current circumstances; in other words, you read fictional adventure stories that are so much cleaner and less personal than your current life.

You, Five, and Six are about the only people that use this library. The only books Reginald needs are in his office, and none of the other adopted children (you hesitate to call them your siblings—you’ve never once thought of them as anything but strangers living in your house, or possibly fellow schoolmates in a boarding school) have any use for reading. Number One and Three are often by themselves dreaming about their futures in space and Hollywood, respectively. Number Four is too often high to concentrate on reading, and Number Two loves to spend much of his time with Grace. Seven occasionally visits the library, but she prefers to read in her own room and practice the violin.

Six is the same way; he prefers to read in his room. The majority of the time he spends in the library is picking out his book. He’s very picky about that sort of stuff.

In a way, you like to think you and Five have developed a sort of kinship, as the only two people that share the 20,000 square foot room that takes up almost the entire second-lower floor, and could be a large ballroom if Reginald was a different person.

Because the library is below ground, there are no windows, so you have to rely on lamps that hardly do their job and leave long shadows behind and between shelves. Often you jump when something scurries in the shadows. Most of the time it’s simply Five, Pogo, Six, or Grace, but at one point it had been a particularly large rabid rat, and Five had rescued you from it when it was trying to attack you. So, yes, you do think there’s gotta be some sense of kinship there—you know for a fact that he would not have saved Numbers One or Two if they’d been in your situation.

You venture into another aisle. Five is already in the aisle, using his spacial jumping powers to get books from higher shelves that would require a ladder. There’s two books on the ground already, and by the time you pull one out from the shelves to examine it, he’s chosen another one.

“A-choo!” Five sneezes violently, making the ladder he’s standing on sway dangerously. You jump; the silence in the library broken. It’s not the first time, either; Five’s been sneezing a lot today, since even before he entered the library. His running nose even kept him from making an outburst during breakfast that morning. You’ve been offering him tissues and Grace offered him medicine, but he’s been refusing everything.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, looking up from your book. Five sniffs and wipes his nose on his sleeve. When he looks up at you, his eyes look a little bloodshot. It could just be from his odd sleeping habits, but…

You purse your lips when he sneers at you, sniffling. “I’m fine, Eight. It’s just the dust.”

Now that is an abject lie. Grace keeps the entire house spotless and free of dust, especially the library what with how often you, Five, and Mr. Pogo choose to spend your time in it.

So you snort. “That’s B.S. and we both know it.”

“You don’t know anything,” he says tersely, pretending to read his book so intently you can tell he’s not focused on it at all. A shock of hair falls over his eyes and something jolts in your stomach when you realize you want to brush his hair back for him.

Suddenly realization hits you and you kick yourself a little bit for not realizing it sooner. “Five, do you have a cold?”

Five scowls at you. “Of course not, how—”

You put the book back in the shelf—why Reginald has a book written in German that looks to be, as far as you can tell, about human dissection, you don’t really want to know—and approach him like you would a skittish cat. “Five, it’s okay if you are sick. You’re not invincible, you know.” Five stiffens when you put your hand on his forehead and cluck your tongue. “Five, you’re burning up.”

“I’m fine,” he snaps and blue light erupts around him. You’re far too used to his tricks, when he’s not in a pissy mood like this one, and your reflexes are good enough for you to grab hold of him just in time so you don’t lose him to the depths of the library.

Unfortunately, Five must be really sick, because the two of you land on top of a bookshelf that sways extremely dangerously. You close your eyes and grip the sides of the bookshelf, praying that it doesn’t fall and tip the others like dominoes. Reginald might just have a heart attack if that happened. Plus, it would be more work for Grace.

“I did not mean to do that,” Five admits sheepishly. He wipes his forehead with his hand. He’s sweating too. He must be really sick. “It’s fine, I can just—”

“No!” You put your hand on his knee. “No, I’ll do it.”

“Eight—” Five starts but you’ve already started to use your powers. For one brief moment, your hair shoots back into your head, bumps like worms crawling under your skin distort your features, and when you blink your eyes open as a different color. After a second, you look exactly like Five.

With a brief roll of Five’s eyes, you spacial jump to the floor with him and change your appearance back to the one you normally wear.

“I suppose it is a useful power,” Five admits.

“Yeah,” you snort. “Just wish I could keep the powers even when I look like me.”

“Well,” Five replies, and he almost slurs his words, “it can confuse the bad guys when we’re fighting them.”

“Five, I think you’re sick,” you say critically, taking the books he was clutching out of his hands. “You need to lay down—”

“No!” Five protests loudly, and then he sniffs loudly. “I’m perfectly healthy, Eight! A-choo!”

“Yeah, let’s get you back to your room,” you decide and wear Five’s face again. A quick spacial jump later and you’re depositing the sick boy onto his bed, shaking off his skin like, well, a second skin. “I’ll have Grace get you medicine,” you decide.

“I don’t need your help,” Five mutters into his pillow, already half-asleep. Poor thing’s been burning himself out on both ends as he tries to learn how to jump through time.

“You’re welcome,” you reply.

He snores in response.

When you turn around, Grace is standing in front of the door with medicine in her hand. “I had a feeling you would persuade him,” she says with a wide smile. “May I?”

It takes a little bit of work to rouse Five from his fever-induced slumber. He comes out of it mumbling and swatting away your hands trying to rouse him. “Eight, get away from me,” he snaps.

“I’m just trying to help you,” you reply. No doubt he would have said something about how he doesn’t need your help, had he not sneezed violently. “Everyone gets sick. You’re not immune or anything.” He has this idea that he’s invincible to the things that plague common people, like colds and emotions, and it’s endearing and annoying, depending on the day.

“Five, I insist you take this medicine,” Grace says calmly, handing him a pill and a glass of water. “You will feel much better, trust me. I’ve been telling you that you need more sleep.”

“I’m not taking that,” Five insists, turning his nose up at the pill. “I’m not even sick. I’m just tired.” He sniffles.

“Your running nose tells a different story,” you mutter and Five hears. He tries to glare at you, but his eyes are red-rimmed and tired. “Please, Five? Just this once?” you plead. “I can’t read if you’re sneezing every two seconds.”

He rolls his eyes but acquiesces. Grace stands back up, pleased, and smiles at the both of you. “I hope you feel better soon, Five.”

“I’m not even sick,” he mumbles, glaring at you for dragging him out of his safe haven.

“I’m sure,” you reply smoothly. “Do you want me to read to you?”

Five rolls his eyes, which probably means yes. You know he would have told you to get out if he didn’t want you to, but he’s also got a weird complex that prevents him from asking for or needing help in any way. He probably thinks someone reading to him while he’s sick is a sign of weakness.

You sit down primly on one of the chairs in his room and pick up one of the books on his desk. To your surprise, it’s one of your favorites: Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. You’d told him about it months ago, not expecting him to actually be paying attention to your ramblings.

You glance at the boy, but he’s resolutely staring at the covers on his bed. There’s a blush rising up his neck, though, that leads you to believe he knows that you know why the book is right there on his desk.

You clear your throat. “Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much…”

Umbrella Academy Taglist:

@fentanvl @deathswretch @lightningidiot @five-hg @iamsnek666 @ameliatrh

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes

If you want to be added onto a taglist, just send in an ask!

Requests are open; right now I’m working on a multi-part story that is also a Reader x Five, but I’m always taking ideas!

[tumbletalia-blog]

1P! SPAIN: THE RACE IS ON

TWO WEEKS UNTIL APPLICATIONS CLOSE.

Past the Pillars of Hercules to the New World we go, passing the APPLICATION and our REASON FOR BEING, both short and sweet!