#became unwell and felt a fever come upon me

[dad-dumpster]

[xiao-cafe]

drabble game — prompt 61

pairing: kaeya x gn!reader

tags: fluff, delirious confessions

prompt: “i told you not to fall in love with me”

wc: 1.8k

notes: please be patient with the characterization of the reader in this fic! also thank you to @genshin-ficpact​ for requesting this ^^

It was a bad idea to follow a certain cavalry captain to Dragonspine.

Anyone with a brain would’ve declined the captain’s offer to hike up the mountain but you were simply someone eager to prove yourself and also spend more time with your crush.

“How are you holding up?” Kaeya asked, turning his head to check on you as the both of you slowly made your way to the campsite where the both of you would spend the night.

“I’m… fine.” You managed to get out as you lifted your stiff legs from the snow and took another step forward. Your coat was heavy on your shoulders but you paid no mind and continued on with shaky breaths.

It was extremely cold so high up and you were beginning to feel a little unwell but stubbornness kept you from giving up especially when Kaeya looked as if he was worried about you. The man was frowning despite keeping an easy-going smile on his lips, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you.

The only thing that kept you from hating the cold altogether was its ability to keep your face flushed so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of Kaeya. You let out a groan as Kaeya took another step further, gesturing for you to follow him.

“We’re almost at Albedo’s campsite. Here, hold my hand.” Kaeya held his hand out towards you, a smirk on his face as he watched you struggle to climb up the last few steps to where he was.

You gripped the captain’s hand tightly and allowed him to lead you the rest of the way while you focused on moving forward and how warm it suddenly became to have your hand in his.

“We’re here,” Kaeya announced, misty exhale floated in the air and you had never felt happier to see a campfire in your entire life.

“Thank god, my legs are about to give out.” You groaned, letting go of Kaeya’s hands before stumbling towards the fire and dropping to your knees before it.

Kaeya’s mirthful laugh echoed throughout Albedo’s campsite which was pretty much a hole-in-the-wall, but it was warm.

“How nice of Albedo to leave the fire going for us,” Kaeya stated as he plopped down next to you, his hand brushing across yours briefly.

You suppressed the urge to yelp just as the contact sent a shiver running down your spine.

“Are you still cold?” Kaeya asked, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at you. His ponytail curled around his neck, revealing only the slightest bit of tan skin under the thick garments which protected him from the cold.

You tried your best to ignore his cool gaze on you and instead focused on warming your hands by the fire. “I’m f-fine,” You told him, “Where’s Albedo anyways?”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him your trembles were because of him rather than the cold.

“Not sure, but he probably won’t be coming back soon.” Kaeya mused, resting his chin in the palm of his hand as he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Why’s that?”

“I suspect he just didn’t want to intrude… on us,” Kaeya stated calmly. Amusement danced in his eye as he observed realization dawn on you and you ducked your head down in embarrassment.

“But don’t worry, I would never do anything of that sort to you.” The man laughed, ruffling your hair as you stared at him with wide eyes.

It stung to hear an indirect rejection from Kaeya but to avoid looking childish you bottled your feelings up and gave Kaeya what you hoped was a convincing smirk.

“And if I fall in love with you?” You probed him with the question, ignoring the warning bells going off in your head that you would regret asking him that.

“You shouldn’t.” Kaeya answered almost immediately, “It won’t end well.”

His cryptic answers left you on edge but you decided it was best to drop the matter before you broke your own heart further.

Night fell and soon you and Kaeya were preparing to get some rest before the both of you set out again in the morning.

Having had a hearty dinner using the leftover ingredients in Albedo’s camp, both of you were full-bellied and tired from the long day.

The sleeping arrangements as set up by Kaeya was simple, you’d sleep in the warmest corner of the campsite where it was also the safest and he’d sleep a good distance away to protect you.

To say the least, you were disappointed.

You had hoped to be able to snuggle up against him, using the frigid cold of the night as an excuse and to also finally get him to see you as you were. Not a kid that he has to keep an eye on but an adult, who has been in love with him for years.

“Alright, light’s out,” Kaeya announced with a clap, a satisfied expression on his face.

“I’ve always wanted to try saying that.” He chuckled upon seeing your face scrunch up in distaste.

“I’m not a child, Kaeya.” You reminded him as you slipped into your sleeping bag.

“Yet, I still have to protect this youngster who had stupidly- I mean, bravely followed me to Dragonspine.” He said while slipping into his own sleeping bag.

You rolled your eyes at the cavalry captain and began to wriggle about, attempting to find a comfortable position to sleep in.

“You look like a worm.”

You let out an exasperated sigh but a smile still lingered on your lips as you turned to face Kaeya so that you could give him a biting retort.

“And you don’t?”

You clicked your tongue as Kaeya shrugged nonchalantly and rolled onto his back.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He said with a yawn.

You hummed a response, sleep weighing heavily on your eyelids.

You weren’t sure how it came to be but your body felt hot and cold at the same time as you awoke to Kaeya pressing his palm to your forehead.

With bleary eyes, you watched as Kaeya loomed over you with a panicked expression, unaware that you had woken up.

“Kaeya?”

Your voice was weak and soft, you barely had the energy to talk but seeing Kaeya so distraught made you want to comfort him.

“Shh, you’re sick. You need to rest.” He said, gently brushing your hair out of your face.

No wonder you felt so terrible. Your immune system simply couldn’t keep up and now you were sick.

Your lower lip trembled as tears welled up in your eyes, you felt guilty for falling sick and causing trouble for Kaeya.

“Kaeya, I’m sorry.” You murmured.

The man was quick to respond as he wiped away your tears with his thumb.

“Don’t be. And please don’t cry.”

Perhaps it was the sickness that messed with your mind but you felt like hugging Kaeya after seeing a frown marring his beautiful face.

With all the strength you had left in you, you pushed yourself up and almost fell back down but Kaeya was there to support you, his hands holding onto your torso steadily.

“Why are you getting up? Go back to sleep.” The captain hissed.

But you shook your head determinedly and latched yourself onto him, wrapping your arms around him tightly.

“I want to hug you.” You started slowly, each syllable leaving your mouth with great effort. Kaeya smelled nice and he was also warm, so you pressed your face into his chest, basking in the feeling.

“Kaeya… Why is your heart beating so fast?”

Upon hearing your question, the man’s heart began to beat faster and you looked up at him, peering to see what was wrong with him.

“It’s nothing.” He said coolly, his eyes narrowed as your hands began to wander, pushing his shirt up and slipping under the fabric.

“It’s cold, you’re warm.” You murmured as you pressed your hands against the hard planes of his stomach. Despite owning a Cryo Vision, Kaeya was always warm to the touch and you were now appreciating the heat that emanated from his body.

“Jean’s going to kill me,” Kaeya muttered, his hands hovered above your head, reluctant to push you away especially since you were clinging onto him like no tomorrow. The captain blushed heavily as he tried to persuade you to return to your sleeping bag, “Come on, Y/N. I’m sure the sleeping bag will be warmer than me.”

Ignoring Kaeya, you continued to babble about how warm he was, letting the fever take full control over your lips until you accidentally let slip a secret.

“Kaeya, I like you.”

There was an undeniable hitch in Kaeya’s breathing as he stared at you incredulously. The initial shock of being confessed to died down rather quickly and Kaeya was back to being… Well, Kaeya.

The man easily pushed you down onto the ground, his hands wrapping around your wrists to hold you down as he stared down at you, an almost pained expression on his face.

“I told you not to fall in love with me.”

But how could you not?

Your lips moved on their own accord and you parroted your own thoughts, delirious about the situation you were currently in.

“How could I not?” You questioned him, tongue darting out to lick your chapped lips.

Kaeya let out a sigh from above you and dropped his head in defeat.

“I hope you’re prepared for the consequences of loving someone like me.” He warned, “This is your last chance to back out.”

You knew that Kaeya was only trying to scare you away, his face twisted into one that would’ve scared anyone away but you were out of your mind so his threats slid past you like water on a sheet of glass.

“I’m never backing out.” You blurted out, your mind clearing for a brief moment as blood rushed to your cheeks, turning them a shade of rosy red.

“Very well.” His voice was a soft whisper but his words reached your ears.

You grinned widely up at him, unable to contain your joy. Kaeya chuckled softly and let go of your wrists, unpinning you.

“Kaeya can you stay next to me?” You asked him, holding onto his sleeve.

“Of course.”

As joy bloomed in your chest, you were beginning to feel sleepy again. The last thing you remembered was Kaeya tucking you into your sleeping bag and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

You awoke the next morning, feeling better but warmer than usual. At first, you had thought that you were still feverish but the sound of Kaeya’s morning rasp right in your ear told you otherwise.

“Good morning.” He chirped.

Hazy memories of the night before filled your head and you curled in on yourself in an attempt to hide. You had confessed last night and even harassed him by putting your hands up his shirt.

Your face burned even more as Kaeya laughed. His deep voice sent tingles down your spine and raised goosebumps on your skin.

“Did you forget what happened last night?” Kaeya asked suggestively as he poked you.

Shyly, you uncurled yourself to peek at Kaeya. The man laid beside you, looking not the least bit bothered as he twiddled his fingers at you in greeting.

“Don’t be so shy now, you promised to not back down didn’t you?”

end.

[couchpotatoaniki]

One Year ❣︎ Seven: Never Ask Friends for Help

Chapter Summary: As San expected, he caught a cold after your little prance through the storm in Hallim Park the previous day. Luckily, you're fine, which gives you the wonderful opportunity to look after him and the even more wonderful opportunity to let your chaotic nature shine.

Pairing: Mafia!San x Fem!Reader Genre: Mafia AU, fluff, angst, eventual smut, lotta crack and stupid shit ngl Chapter warnings: swearing, (this chapter is pure fluff and crack) Word count: 3.2k+ A 365 Days parody

Previous: Chapter Six For the rest of the series, click here

Speech in bold means they’re talking in Korean

Speech in italics is whatever the reader wants their native langue to be that’s not Korean or English

Speech without either means they’re talking in English

Silence filled your room when you woke up the next morning. It was strange, since San had said he would be waking you up, and there you were, still lying in bed by the time noon rolled around.

It wasn’t as if you were waiting for him to come and get you, but you just wanted to take advantage of the time in such a warm blanket. Yeosang often joked about how you became a cold-blooded reptile whenever you felt sleepy, body temperature dropping and your tongue sharp like that of a snake.

Basically, it was his long-winded way of calling you a cranky, heat-stealing bitch.

Not that you minded at all, since Yeosang was a cranky bitch himself when sleepy.

But then half an hour passed, and there was still no sign of San. Throwing the blanket off your form, you slipped on a pair of slippers and got ready for the day, finding him becoming the very next thing on your agenda.

And the state you found him in was certainly laughable--to you anyway.

“Did you seriously get sick after a little storm?” you chuckled, eyes taking in San wrapped in the covers as if he was a baby, sniffling every few seconds.

“Oh, shut it,” he glared at you, speaking with a nasally voice.

You took a step into his room, one looking fairly similar to yours, with little pictures or much personalisation in general. Must not have stayed here often then, or had many memories he wanted to keep.

That thought... it made you feel a little sad.

Once you reached the edge of his bed, you sat down beside him, noticing just how sickly-looking he was. Skin paler, hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat, flush cheeks and nose, uneven breathing, soft whimpering.

Your smile faded slightly. “How long have you been like this?”

“Since last night,” he coughed, brushing away your hand as you reached out to check his temperature. “Don’t touch me, I don’t want you to catch whatever this is.”

Clicked your tongue at his response and did so anyway. “Holy shit, you’re burning up. More than you should be. Has anyone seen to you yet?” Instantly, you brushed the hair from his eyes, simultaneously wiping away the sweat. Was pretty gross, but you didn’t mind at all.

San relaxed under your gentle touch, finding it cool and soothing against his muddled senses. “N-No. I texted Hongjoong to tell everyone to leave me alone. Clearly didn’t do a good enough job if you’re here.”

Lightly hitting his chest over the blanket, you scoffed. “You’re happy I’m here, don’t lie.”

Grinning, he sighed. “Can’t hide anything from you, now can I, Hun?”

“Nope,” you huffed as you got up. “Now, I’m going to prepare something for you to eat since you probably haven’t had anything since yesterday.” On cue, his stomach grumbled painfully loudly, making the man visibly cringe as he was about to decline your offer so you would stay with him for a little bit longer. “Looks like Mister Tummy’s already answered for you.”

“Mister Tummy doesn’t know shit.”

“Mister Tummy knows more shit than you do. In fact, it processes all of your shit for you.”

“Gross.”

“I know. Mister Tummy’s gross. But full of wisdom.”

“You know what, just go. Leave me be for a bit.”

Evil chuckling reached his ears. “Now that you’ve said it, I’ll just be here to annoy you as much as I can. But before we do that, keep yourself bundled up and make sure you’re sweating buckets. It’s the most effective way to break a nasty fever like that.” You began wrapping him up in the thick blanket like he was a burrito.

With that, you left for the kitchen, calling Seonghwa’s number. As the ringing continued, you looked around, noticing how there were few guards and servants around the place. Not even Wooyoung, Jongho, or Hongjoong could be seen in your trek to make food.

“What do you want, troll?”

“You’ve got to stop calling me that. Whatever happened to ‘hello’? Too mainstream for you?”

“...Hello, troll. What do you want?”

Narrowing your eyes ahead of you, smirk pressing against your lips, you tried to look around for the chef. Not there either. “Much better. Now, can you give me a recipe for that soup with ‘magical healing properties’ you used to give me?”

“Bone broth?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m on adventure to nurse a sociopathic cuddle-demon back to health, now are you going to give me the recipe or am I going to get Yunho to drag it out of you? Because I know very well that he will.”

Seonghwa’s sigh was loud enough to be audible through the phone.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Just text me the recipe, thank you, love you, byeeeeee.” Immediately ended the call, looking in all the cupboards, the pantry, the fridge, and the freezer. This place was stocked to the brim.

Shortly after, your phone began buzzing, Seonghwa requesting to video call you. Swiping the green button, you were met with a (slightly laggy) picture of Seonghwa’s chin, hearing him yell off screen. “--UNHO. MINGI. I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU BETTER PUT THAT DOWN BEFORE I SHOVE IT UP BOTH YOUR ASSES.”

You could make out the response, “Hehe, kinky.” Most likely Mingi from the very nature of the comment.

“What do you want, troll?” you echoed his words back to him, catching his attention--the other boys most likely long gone into the depth of the house.

“Well, well, well, how the tables have turned,” he smirked, moving the camera so you could see him better.

“It’s ‘how the turntables’.”

He looked at you with an unimpressed expression, not pleased with your Office reference, and carried on to ignore it. “So there is no way in hell I’m sending you the recipe through text, since people can easily hack that--”

“And by people, you mean--”

“Yeosang, yes, who else? Little rat bastard keeps trying to steal my recipes.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him you said that.”

“As if he hasn’t heard it already about a million times.”

You chuckled in response, knowing how true it was. “Fair enough. Now spill your secrets and bless me with the ability to cook.”

One word to describe the last hour of your life would be... Well, you couldn’t really think of a word. It was purely of Seonghwa screaming over the phone and you screaming back. And panicking. Both of you definitely panicked.

But all in all, the bone broth was made and tasted fairly decent--a worry you had after fucking up so many times in making a simple recipe.

With a pale and dreary look upon his face, Seonghwa looked at you through the phone, narrowing his eyes on you pouring some of the hot mixture in to a bowl. “You’re actually gonna feed him that? Sure you’re trying to nurse him, or was this a master plan to kill him after that ordeal? Because if it’s the latter, then there were much easier ways of doing so.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, whispering prayers in your head that it would actually help San’s fever. “And goodbye.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Is that it? You’re gonna use me and then lea--”

You hand pulled away from the phone screen, after having pressed the red button. Chuckled to yourself with your comedic timing, completely forgetting the earful you’d get of the elder the next time you call him.

Gathering a tray, you placed the bowl of bone broth on top of it, as well as a packet of painkillers, a glass of water, and some turmeric tea; why San has it, you have no idea, since he seems to be a hot coffee-kind of person.

Would’ve added a flower, because you felt like being extra, but that would seem more like a romantic thing than a... well, whatever the hell you two were right now.

This situation wasn’t exactly common enough for it to be given a name.

Wafting away the thought, you grabbed the tray and walked quickly to the mobster’s bedroom. Didn’t need to worry about any spillage since you’ve had years of practice being quick and precise with movement.

Holding one hand beneath the tray (feeling a little heavy, but again, you’ve had practice), you used the other to open the door, finding San still swaddled in his blanket, sweating like a pig.

“Y/N...” he whimpered, an eye opening at the sound of you entering. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state was different to how he usually was--and you weren’t sure if you liked it.

“I’m right here, San,” you replied in a soft tone, brushing back his hair once more as soon as you placed the tray on the bedside-table beside you. “Brought you some food too. Can you sit up for me?”

Letting out soft whines, he tried to lift his body up, but was too weak and too caged in to get his back even a centimetre off the mattress. You saw the issue, and pulled the covers apart slightly so he could move a little more, both hands pulling gently at his shoulders so he could sit up properly.

Never had you seen someone this unwell from a simple fever. Sure, you’ve felt like shit before, but San’s condition was a little worrying. “Is there some private doctor I can call?”

“What,” he huffed, a smile etching onto his face as he looked into your eyes, “makes you think I have a private doctor?”

“Oh, I dunno, you’re a rich asshole?”

Chuckling, he let his head flop to the side, neck suddenly too weak to hold it up properly. “You’re beautiful, you know that? Annoying, but funny, but sarcastic, but beautiful.”

“Okay, do you wanna continue with that word vomit or are you gonna eat?” You cocked your brow, head tilting to match his posture. “Also, you’re not gonna flatter me by calling me beautiful. That shit doesn’t work on me anymore.”

It had slightly upset San knowing that you had said ‘anymore’--upset him knowing that there were others complimenting what his. But he couldn’t blame them. You really were beautiful in his eyes, even if he hadn’t thought so when he initially laid eyes on you.

“Don’t wanna eat.”

Sighing, you fixed yourself and picked up the bowl, mixing it as you blew to cool it down a little. “You’re not well, you gotta.”

He looked at you with big wide eyes and a small pout--and you couldn’t help but think it was a little cute. “Don’t wanna... unless you feed me?”

Okay, maybe it was a little less cute.

You exhaled, still stirring. “If I do, then you’ll have it all?” He put his hand over his heart, nodding with a sincere look on his face. “Fine then.” You lifted a spoon full of the bone broth to his lips, which he look into his mouth promptly--eyes glued to yours as he did so.

San hummed earnestly. “It’s...actually pretty good.”

Eye twitching, you lightly pushed him. “Why? Did you expect it to be shit?”

“I mean, I heard faint screaming and what I assume was swearing, which could have only come from you because I let everyone have a day off for today. So, yes, forgive my assumption that it would murder me,” he chuckled, opening his mouth once more, in which you carefully put more broth in.

“Be happy that I’m doing this much for you.”

“Because you feel guilty for getting me ill?” 

“No, it was your fault for not taking a hot shower when we came back, like I told you to--and your immune system for being so shit.”

“Okay, first of all, I can’t help it if my immune system wants to act out. I usually don’t get this ill.” You sent him a ludicrous look, continuing to feed him. “What? I really don’t!”

“Tell that to the rain.”

“I-- nevermind. But the second thing is that I offered to take a shower, but you said no!”

“That’s because you wanted to shower with me. No way in hell I was gonna let that happen!”

“You have the shower room for it!”

″Yeah, and I've already passed on my grievances to you yesterday about that hell-room!”

“Well, at least with me with you, you don’t have to worry about--what did you call it? Oh yeah--’Casper the fuckin’ Perverted Ghost’.”

“I’d take a ghost over you any day.”

“You won’t be saying that in a year.”

“Bold of you to assume that I won’t be choosing Casper over you. After all, I’ll be spending time with him as well.”

San scoffed, slightly amused but annoyed at the same time. “Are you actually trying to get me jealous of something that doesn’t exist?”

“Who said Casper doesn’t exist?”

“‘Cause ghosts don’t exist.”

“Tell that to Casper. You’ll find him in my shower room.”

Amidst the conversation, neither of you had noticed how the bowl and cup was now empty, their contents now residing in San’s stomach. But when you did, you got up--ready to walk to the kitchen and put everything away--until his very warm hands wrapped around your elbow gently.

“Please don’t go. You can put all that stuff away later. Just... stay with me.”

Sighing, you decided to listen to him for once an put the tray down before tightening the covers around him again--making him whine. “Noooooo, I wanna hold you.”

“What happened to not wanting me to get sick?”

“I’m ill, stop taking my muddled brain so seriously.”

Your brow cocked up, amused while you looked over his flushed face. “So you’d be willing get me sick too?”

Another pout formed on his face. “Of course not,” he mumbled. “You know what, you’re right. You can go.”

He avoided looking at you, instead fixing his saddened gaze at the window. Your natural scepticism told you that he was just faking it, only putting on an act to get your attention and affection. Yet, for the first time in a while, doubt began to seep in.

Maybe... maybe you could give in. Just this once.

Sighing, you slipped off your slippers and lay down beside him, an arm and leg wrapping around his body to bring him closer to you. A stronger tint of red covered his face as he looked at you, flabbergasted, as he tried to wriggle out of your touch. “What are you doing, you’ll get sick--”

“My immune system is much stronger than yours, I’ll live. Besides, you look cosy,” you muttered, nestling your face into the soft blanket. Even his blanket smelled like a garden in the rain, despite the amount of sweat that’s probably seeped into it.

Truly, he did, and you couldn’t deny that you wanted to hug the human burrito.

San had, instead, found you cute, cheek squished against the fabric surrounding him. Let his mind wonder to the image of you pressed against him--without the covers coming between you two.

Again.

Would you look this peaceful, sleeping on his chest, on a regular day--he thought.

“Are you just going to stare at me or are you gonna get some rest?” San could feel your voice vibrating through the covers despite the thickness of it.

“Hard not to stare at you, ya know?” he relaxed himself, despite feeling like he was baking beneath the blanket, and let his head rest on the pillow, cheek pressed against your forehead.

“Goddamn, you’re hot. Did you take any medicine while I was cooking?”

“Oh, Hun, there’s no cure for sexiness,” he coughed, a smirk pulling at his lips from the joke he made.

Another sigh was pulled from your throat as you got up to look for any painkillers he could take. Sane began to whine once more, rolling over since he could barely had enough energy to move with his arms when he was this tired--a full belly of warm broth and tea not helping what so ever.

“No--wait. Come back...”

“You need painkillers.”

With a straight face, he stared deep into your eyes, slightly glossy and sparkling under the dim sunlight coming into the room. “But you’re my painkiller.”

“Yeah, I’m going to get you some meds,” you deadpanned, scooping up the tray to leave the grown-ass mafia boss whining and rolling around, throwing a tantrum.

After some hard thinking and remembering that Wooyoung had given you his number, you called him up as you stood in the doorway, looking at San’s calm state of sleeping.

“My dear sister,” you heard a voice finally say over the phone, “what requires my assistance?”

“...Wooyoung?”

“Yes, dear sister?”

“What in the world has possessed you call me your ‘dear sister’?”

“Because you’re gonna be my friend’s wife some day, so I need to get used to seeing you as my sister-from-another-mister.”

Rubbing the bridge of your nose, you decided to not comment on his outlandish claims. “San’s not feeling well.”

“Is that why he sent us all away?” he laughed, somehow finding this situation amusing--since this is what his best friend tends to do; finds his weakened state as vulnerability, and if there was one thing San hated, it was feeling vulnerable.

But if he truly hated that, then why pursue this why you--when he know that it would force him to bring his guard down?

“I think so. No one was here when I came out of my room. Not the cooks or the maids or even the guards,” you said, taking another gander as if there might be someone roaming the halls to disprove your statement.

There wasn’t.

“Okay then. You want me to give you our private doctor’s number?”

Chuckling to yourself because you knew you were right (immediately confusing Wooyoung), you hummed, “yeah, that would be great.”

“O-Okay. Lemme text it to you. But do you need anything else? I know from experience San can get a little clingy when he’s not in his right mind,” he said, a boisterous giggle passing his lips.

“Nah, it’s fine.” You let your gaze brush over your captor’s figure. “Just send me the number and I’ll take it from there.”

“Okie dokie then, dear sister. I’ll leave you to deal with that enigma.”

“Alright, Wooyoung. See you tomorrow?”

“Call me ‘dear brother’, then maybe I’ll hang u--”

You shoved your phone into your back pocket after ending the call, thinking that it would take him a few minutes. Proving you wrong, the phone buzzes to life within the next ten seconds, Wooyoung sending you a couple of messages.

Wooyoung: Well that was a rude Wooyoung: No matter, I still love ya, dear sister Wooyoung: Probs should clarify that it’s platonic in case San sees it and gets all jelly Wooyoung: Anyway, here’s the number Wooyoung: XXXXXXXXXX

Y/N: Thanks, bro

Wooyoung: 🥺🥺 You called me ‘bro’

Smiling a little, you called the number--which had indeed taken you to a doctor’s clinic. After hearing of his exact temperature and other symptoms, the woman over the phone had concluded that it was as you first suspected--the common cold.

She told you to keep giving him painkillers and he should be fine within the week. Ending the call with a polite ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’, you left to get San more broth and medication, and hopefully you’d lay down with him again.

Which is exactly what you did for the rest of the day, opting to stay with him for the night too in order to make sure he really was okay. Thankfully, the worst of his fever had passed by the time morning came around and he was feeling much better.

You, however, were exhausted after looking after him, deep in your slumber as you shifted closer to San, who had broken free of his blanket prison and wrapped it around the two of you. The sunlight peeking through the window paled in comparison to the faint smile of glee San had adorned when he saw you.

Cheeked pressed up against his shoulder, and arm and a leg draped over his body like a koala clinging to a tree.

Just like he had thought the day before.

☕︎ Tag list: @little-precious-baby​​​​ , @sparklychangbin​​​​ , @shawkneecaps​ If you wanna be tagged, feel free to ask!

[splendidly-secret-sick-fics]

Ooo! What about Kuroo feeling really unwell during training camp while training with Bokuto, Akaashi, Tsukki, Hinata and Lev? He's probably felt bad for a while, but just suffered through. So when everything becomes too much, a panicking Hinata runs to get Kenma... and you can decide the rest.

Only if you're comfortable with writing it though! Have a nice day!

Leaders Don’t Cry: a Kuroo sickfic

Pairing: sick Kuroo, caretakers Kenma, Tsukki, Bokuto, Akaashi, kinda Hinata & Lev

Word Count: 4,266

Warnings: vomit, swearing, slight emetophobia, and sad Kuroo :(

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Thanks for the request friend :) I’ve only ever written Kuroo & Kenma as side characters, so this was kinda fun!!

I’m not super super happy with the overall product, but that’s alright. I do feel like maybe it’s not super cohesive? Idk. Let me know!! I look forward to improving my characterization of Kuroo and Kenma.

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Kuroo was a Leader. He was someone that others looked up to. Someone you could depend on.

Leaders were extroverts though, and Kuroo had to admit he did his best Recharging alone in his room or the quiet company of the Kenma. That’s an Introvert Thing, apparently. Even when he was young, too many people or too much social interaction drained him. Another Introvert Thing.

When he met Kenma and started playing volleyball, it seemed he naturally outgrew his Introvert Model, shedding his shy, intimidated outer-self. It was easily replaced with the Extrovert Model.

Now, Kuroo liked being surrounded by his team and his friends and he liked meeting new people. That’s an Extrovert Thing. So Kuroo was an Extrovert.

(“That makes you an Introverted Extrovert, Kuro,” Kenma told him one day. Kuroo didn’t understand how that could possibly be a thing.)

As an Extrovert, it was only natural that he became the captain of his volleyball team his third year. It was only natural that he was the Bridge between Karasuno and the Tokyo powerhouse schools.

(Kenma claimed, when the two of them were alone at least, that it was really his friendship with Chibi-Chan and their coaches that did that. Kuroo refused to concede this point.)

As the Leader and Bridge, it was again only natural that not only his team, but also other teams’ players were drawn to his wisdom and sparkling personality.

(“You forced yourself on them,” Kenma sighed.)

And that’s how he, Kuroo Tetsuro, Certified Extroverted Leader, came to be in Gym Three, long after their main practice ended with two of Karasuno’s first years, Bokuto, Akaashi, and Lev.

And that’s also how he ended up in the Worst Possible Situation.

It went down like this.

They were at another training camp with the Fukurodani Group and Regular Guests, Karasuno High. It was a short one, thrown together quickly because of the long weekend.

After much convincing (read: coercion) from him and Bokuto, Tsukishima Kei agreed to join them again for blocking practice. They pushed because Kuroo couldn’t stand to watch this kid’s talent waste away and Bokuto was personally offended that Tsukki still didn’t seem to enjoy volleyball.

It should have come as no surprise that Karasuno’s Hinata Shoyo joined in again, determined to redeem himself from his previous loss at the last camp.

And then because Haiba Lev decided that Chibi-chan and him were rivals, he joined in too.

(Akaashi claimed he had no choice but to join. It was either endless practice or endless Dejected Bokuto. Kuroo thinks he’s just masochistic.)

Their first night was awesome. He saw a fire ignited in Tsukki and got to smash Bokuto’s spikes back in his face. Plus, his ego was boosted because the three first years were all wowed by his skill.

Tonight, however, was not great. If he was honest with himself, things were bad from the second he woke up, and promptly wanted to curl back into his futon.

His head hurt and his body ached. The sounds of his team waking up and getting ready for the day set his nerves on edge the second he heard them. He felt overcrowded and overstimulated and he wasn’t even out of bed yet.

It had all the signs of a Recharge Alone Day, but it was the last full day of a training camp in which he was supposed to be a Leader. So, he pushed that all aside and got up to go lead.

As the day progressed, Kuroo gave more and more thought to Kenma’s “Introverted Extrovert” theory. He still loved his team and wanted to be around them. He did want to participate in the games and hang out with the other teams.

He also so so very badly wanted to sit in the dark for the next several hours.

Kuroo’s headache only grew more insistent as the day went on, likely due to the sounds of squeaking shoes, bouncing volleyballs, and the too warm summer heat. He got increasingly more fidgety and nervous all day and it made him uncomfortable in his own skin. That, added to the already ever-present soreness of his limbs only served to make him more miserable.

But he was the Captain, so he shoved those feelings down, ignored his headache, and tried to act as normal as possible. For the most part, his plan worked and no one bothered him about what might be wrong. Kenma was the only one that eyed him suspiciously every time his Extrovert facade slipped a little. At the end of the regular practice, his best friend approached him slowly.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quiet as usual.

“Kenma! What’s up, dude?” Kuroo forced, trying to maintain his usual Extrovert Mode.

“Cut the crap, Kuro,” Kenma sighed, blunt and exhausted as usual.

“Kenma, what are you—“

“Are you sick?”

The question caught Kuroo off guard. Was he sick? He thought it was just an Introvert Day that he had to push through. Maybe Kenma had a point though? It wasn’t like he normally felt this drained during a training camp. That usually came after the camp ended.

“No,” he eventually replied and waved his hand, “nah. Just tired. I think practicing with the guys at night took more of my energy than usual.” That must be it. He didn’t usually have to put out that much energy after practice. Lev, Hinata, and Bokuto were all True Extroverts, after all. Unlike Kuroo, who just molded himself into one. It made sense.

Kenma studied him with wide eyes before relenting and saying “Don’t push yourself, Kuro.”

“I won’t, don’t worry. I am a little tired though so maybe I’ll forgo evening prac—“

“Kuroo-san!” Hinata ran up to them, “are we practicing again today?? I want you to show me that cool wha-BAM block again!!” He jumped up and slammed his hands down, most likely trying to imitate exactly what he was trying to convey. All the loud explanation did was call attention back to his headache.

“Shoyo, Kuro was actually just saying that he was—“

“On my way to look for you Chib-chan!” Kuroo interrupted. Kenma narrowed his eyes at him, but Kuroo couldn’t deny the little red headed twerp.

“Let’s go grab something to eat and then we’ll round up the others.”

Hinata looked at him with those stupid starry eyes and nodded before running off to pester Tsukishima. Kuroo deflated some.

“Kuro. It’s okay to take breaks. I know you think that this is what you should be doing as Captain, but it’s alright to say no sometimes,” Kenma said.

“I know, Kenma,” Kuroo smiled gently, ignoring the uneasy feeling in his gut, “Thank you for looking out, but I’m fine! It’s only one more day. Tomorrow afternoon once everyone’s gone, I’ll just hang out in my room. You can come over if you want and play that new game I bought.”

Kenma studied him again before letting out a long-suffering exhale.

“Sure. Sounds good.”

After they ate, the six of them met up in Gym Three for another three on three. On the outside, things were going well. On the inside, Kuroo’s head was quickly descending into chaos.

He pretended that Bokuto, Lev and Hinata weren’t too loud. He pretended that he had enough energy to show them the same move seven times. He pretended he was enjoying this.

All the while, his headache slowly transitioned into a migraine, his limbs got heavier, and his dinner swirled in his stomach nauseatingly. It took maximum effort to stay awake, let alone play a three on three with three of the most energetic people he’d ever met before.

It all came to a head when his feet slammed down after blocking one of Bokuto’s cross shots. The power behind those normally made him stumble upon landing, but this time it sent a sharp pain shooting through his head and stars dance in his vision. He couldn’t regain his footing, and he stumbled onto his ass.

“Kuroo-san?” Akaashi asked when he didn’t get back up. He couldn’t get back up. The stars were still there and he couldn’t really find his feet.

“Y-yeah?” he stuttered.

“Hey, hey, hey, Kuroo, you alright my man?” Bokuto’s voice boomed and he winced before he could stop himself.

“Kuroo-san? What’s wrong?” Akaashi was kneeling beside him now. He could tell by the proximity of his voice.

“Just a a little...dizzy,” he forced a laugh, trying to play it off. He squeezed his eyes shut and brought a hand up to squeeze at his temples. What the hell was happening?

“Kuroo-san! Do you want some water?” Hinata’s voice rang and clanged in his head. He groaned.

“Kuroo-san, don’t die!!” Lev’s voice pounded. He grimaced.

“Would you idiots keep it down?” Tsukishima, beautiful, quiet Tsukishima commanded.

“Hey, Stupid we’re just trying to help!” Hinata screeched.

“And clearly he’s got a headache, you massive dolt. Keep your volume down,” Tsukki snapped back. Kuroo would thank him if the room would stop spinning.

Suddenly, a hand was on his forehead.

“You’ve got a fever,” Akaashi stated.

Oh. Well, Kenma was right after all. He was sick. The confirmation snapped something into place and all of his emotions, his control, whooshed out of him in one fell swoop. All the symptoms he ignored all day came to the very front of his mind and all he could think about was how miserable he felt.

“Oh,” he choked around the abrupt knot in his throat. He blinked his eyes open and turned to look at Akaashi. The setter was serious as ever, but there was a small frown on his lips and tiny furrow to his brows.

“Bokuto-san, can you bring me your warm up jacket?”

Bokuto nodded and quickly, but thankfully quietly, brought their jackets over and Akaashi draped it around Kuroo’s shoulders.

“Kuroo-san, do you want to lie down?” he soothed.

“Akaashi, I don’t feel good,” he muttered. There was a burning in his eyes and a quiver to his lips that he really wished would go away.

“I know. We’ll get you to your room, but first, I need you to get yourself together some.”

“I don’t...I don’t feel good,” he said, an all too evident shake in his voice. This is not what Leaders do. But he felt so terrible, there was nothing he could do to prevent this sudden onslaught of emotions. Before he knew it, warm tears rolled down his flushed cheeks.

“Kuroo-san!” Hinata screeched. Tsukishima smacked him upside the head. He glared and rubbed the back of his head.

“Kuroo-san,” he tried again, quieter this time, “don’t cry, please. It’s okay!”

Kuroo couldn’t help it. He appreciated Hinata’s attempts at comfort, but he was so drained and he was so sick and he couldn’t help it.

“Kuroo, what can we do to help, man?” Bokuto asked gently, much to his and Akaashi’s (flustered and very evident) surprise. He sat down by Kuroo and rubbed a hand soothingly up and down his back. It helped for a second, but then it just made his skin crawl and his stomach turn.

“I I don’t...I don’t know,” he whimpered pitifully, “I don’t feel good.” He exhaled and dropped his chin to his chest. The downward spiral of both his physical and mental condition brought him further and further into his own self-incurred misery. He needed someone else to be the leader. Anyone.

“Ahhhh, Kuroo-san.” Hinata flailed.

“What about Kenma?” Lev whisper-yelled. Hinata’s spine straightened sharply.

“Good idea, Lev! I know where he is. I’ll go get him!” Hinata proclaimed and ran out.

“Kuroo, what doesn’t feel good?” Bokuto asked.

Kuroo inhaled shakily.

“Head.. my head hurts. And I’m sore and uh and my st-stomach,” he responded through panting breaths.

“There’s a stomach bug that just hit a couple of the player’s on Shinzen’s team,” Tsukishima supplied helpfully.

“Sounds like you might’ve picked that up, Kuroo-san.” Akaashi clicked his tongue.

This was news to him. It must’ve just happened because usually the captains kept each other up to date on those kinds of things as soon as they could. If that was true, that would explain why it came on so quickly. He was fine yesterday. Even just a few hours ago, he was nothing but a little groggy. Now it felt like he got hit by a bus.

If it was a stomach bug, that meant….

“No, no,” he panicked, “no I don’t want that.” He wrapped his hands around his swirling stomach.

“Kuroo, calm down. It’s alright. You’re gonna make it worse,” Bokuto said. Kuroo shook his aching head.

“No I hate throwing up, Bo,” he whimpered and dropped his head to look at his shaking hands.

“Oh…” Akaashi breathed, “do you feel like you might?”

“I don’t know,” he said again. Because he didn’t want to. He absolutely did not want to puke. Not in front of these first years. That might ruin all of his credibility as an upperclassmen, let alone the Captain of a powerhouse school.

Geez, what a pitiful and pathetic display he was putting on. He was supposed to be someone these kids looked up to, and now they were helping him.

“Here,” Tsukishima said, handing Akaashi and Bokuto a bucket from the supply room. Kuroo eyed it distastefully.

“It’s just in case, Kuroo-san!” Lev tried. But the more Kuroo got worked up in spite of himself, the more he realized that wasn’t true. His current emotional state wreaked havoc on his head, which in turn twisted his gut.

Several minutes passed and Kuroo took the time to collect himself so that he could get it together enough to go to his room. At least there he could be miserable and pathetic alone.

While he was able to get himself to stop crying, the come down from the sudden rush of emotions only made his other symptoms that much more prevalent.

Kuroo groaned miserably, “where’s Kenma?”

“Hinata-kun has gone to get him. He’ll be back soon hopefully.”

“Akaashi, I don’t feel good,” he whined and curled tighter in on himself.

“I know,” Akaashi said.

“Feels… bad…” he swallowed thickly.

“Kuroo…” Tsukishima warned. He shook his head.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled. Something heaved in his stomach and he pulled his shoulders up to his ears and brought the back of his hand to his mouth.

“Y’guys should go,” he said around the pool of saliva in his mouth and the heaviness of his jaw. Who he was talking to at this point, he wasn’t sure. He just knew that being around him right now was only asking to catch this. He also knew he was about to puke and he really wanted to try and maintain some of his dignity.

“Too late for that, numbskull. We’ve been around you for days. If we’re gonna catch it, we’re gonna catch it. Might as well make sure you don’t die,” Tsukishima said. Kuroo, behind his mounting nausea and hazy brain, was touched by his salty kouhai’s attempt at comfort.

“I think he meant he doesn’t want you to see him spew, Tsukkidude,” Bokuto murmured. His hand was still on Kuroo’s back and while it was more comforting than bothersome now, it also served to swirl things around in his stomach and brain. He nodded lethargically.

“Kuroo-san, if you could, uh— please, just, um...wait...for Kenma-san, I think it would make you feel, uh, better. To have him here, that is. Instead of...uh...me,” Akaashi stammered. Kuroo heard the nervousness in his voice and felt bad. There wasn’t much he could do to stave off the inevitable though.

“You squeamish, ‘Kaashi?” Bokuto asked.

“Uhhhh,” Akaashi hesitated, high pitched, “maybe a little.”

“Bo,” Kuroo panted, punctuated by a sick hiccup.

“I gotcha, buddy. Bucket’s right here,” Bokuto reassured and placed the bucket in his lap. “You can leave guys, I got this.” He said to the other three.

“Yeah...I’m gonna take you up on that,” Lev said uneasily. “Sorry Kuroo-san.” He bowed and then sprinted out of the gym. Tsukishima looked more hesitant, but ultimately bowed and left as well.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto said right as Kuroo spit into the bucket. The sounds of their conversation faded in and out with the rest of Kuroo’s surroundings. All he could fully register was the lump of something nasty moving up his chest. All he could see was the blinding red color of the bucket.

A few airy burps that grated his throat passed through his parted lips. He whimpered.

“It’s alright, Kuroo,” Bokuto’s voice filtered through the haze. He gagged.

It hurt. It hurt so badly. Each heave, gag and hiccup that plagued him for the next several moments.

Where was Kenma?

Kuroo coughed, hiccupped, and a small stream of vomit trailed out of his mouth. It wasn’t enough. It still hurt. He wheezed.

“Hey, Kuroo-san, try to take deep breaths,” Akaashi’s shaky voice commanded.

“Can’t,” he gasped, coughing up more bile.

Fuck he wanted this to be over.

Cough, gasp, puke. The painful, horrific cycle repeated for several tense minutes. It didn’t relieve any of his discomfort.

Bokuto patted his back and tried to offer comforting words. Akaashi wouldn’t look at Kuroo, but he was there, another steady presence to offer some grounding to Kuroo.

“Kuroo- san! I found Kenma!” Hinata’s voice cut through his misery. “He was in the shower. I’m sorry it took so long!”

“Kuro,” Kenma said, voice calm, blunt, comforting. He took Akaashi’s place at his side, his Snorlax slippers and ratty sweatpants taking up Kuroo’s peripheral.

“I don’ feel good,” Kuroo told him around the bile coating his mouth. Kenma put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“I gathered that,” he said with amusement, “it’s okay. Just relax.”

Kuroo shook his head. Relaxing meant letting this happen. He did not want it to happen.

“Tetsu, don’t be an ass,” Kenma sighed, exasperated.

“Kenma,” he whimpered. The hand on his shoulder squeezed again.

“How long has he been like this?” Kenma directed at someone else in the room.

“About 15 minutes,” Akaashi’s shaky voice answered.

“Shit, Tetsuro, why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Kenma asked. Kuroo shook his head slowly.

“Didn’ re’lize,” he slurred. His stomach cramped and his inhaled sharply through his teeth and gripped tightly at his shirt. As soon as the cramp passed, he gagged, his body jolting forward.

“Uh, I’m gonna—I’m gonna go,” Hinata stuttered out and then Kuroo heard his tiny feet run from the gym.

“Can you two go get Nobuyuki and Yaku from the Nekoma quarters? I’m sure Lev is looking for them, but he’s an idiot,” Kenma demanded of Akaashi and Bokuto, the inflection behind his voice commanding and unwavering. It comforted Kuroo in ways he didn’t understand.

Despite how it appeared to onlookers, Kenma was alway the one taking care of Kuroo. More than Kuroo took care of him, anyway. The setter always knew exactly what Kuroo needed before he even said anything. He was passive most of the time, content to let things be, but stubborn and steadfast when he needed to be. Which was something that Kuroo was grateful for, too prone to letting his emotions take over. Kenma was a sturdy support for Kuroo when he was at his weakest.

“They’re gone, Testsu. Relax and let it happen. It’s just you and me,” Kenma told him. He put his forehead on the top of Kuroo’s matted, sweaty hair. The parts of Kenma’s hair that touched Kuroo were wet and cold. It felt nice. 

The uncharacteristic gentle action from Kenma made something in Kuroo’s chest twinge and he whimpered, fresh tears dropping into the bucket.

Kuroo could be himself with Kenma. He didn’t need to be the Captain or a Leader or an Extrovert or even an Introverted Extrovert. He could just be Kuroo.

“Just us, Tetsu,” Kenma said and pulled his head back.

Kuroo inhaled slowly, deeply and exhaled, trying to relax his shoulders and back. It didn’t take much more for his stomach to finally find relief.

A gurgling hiccup brought up a small stream of bile and he coughed. Another hiccup brought a little more. Then finally, he belched, wet and heady, and heaved, a much stronger torrent of disgusting vomit moving up his chest and out of his mouth.

“There ya go,” Kenma sighed. He moved Kuroo’s unruly hair, made more disgusting by the sheen of sweat covering his forehead, back and away from his face. Kuroo lurched forward with a gag, bringing up more of his dinner.

“Holy shit, Kuro, that’s some fever. I’m sorry you’ve felt so bad all day,” Kenma whispered. Kuroo shook his head, spitting out the nasty taste in his mouth, trying to find his breath before the next round. 

He didn’t get much of a chance before he heaved again.

“God,” he slurred between wretches.

“It’s alright. Calm down,” Kenma instructed.

He puked twice more before his stomach settled for the time being.

“Kenma...please…” he whispered, gesturing for him to move the bucket away.

“Here,” Kenma handed him a water, “drink this first. Rinse out your mouth.” Kuroo did as he was told and spit into the bucket. Kenma took it away after that and Kuroo thanked him quietly. He inhaled, bringing his head up and looking at Kenma for the first time since the setter got there.

Kenma’s eyebrows were furrowed ever so slightly, a subtle pout on his lips. He brushed Kuroo’s bangs back again.

“Thanks, Kenma,” he smiled weakly. Kenma clicked his tongue.

“You’re an idiot,” he sighed. It lacked any of its usual blunt edge.

“Kuroo!!” Kai called out, running into the gym. They were both wearing medical masks, a couple more in their hands.

“Hey,” he said sheepishly, a hand on the back of his neck.

“I knew something was wrong. You really are such a dumbass,” Yaku said, a hand on his hip and an eyebrow raised. He was as blunt as usual.

“Thanks, Yaku. You’re as gentle as ever.”

“Yeah, well. Can’t help it when you decide to push yourself to this point,” he said, turning his face away. “Idiot,” he added as an afterthought. Kuroo couldn’t see his cheeks behind his mask, but his ears were red.

“You alright Kenma? Here,” Kai asked and handed Kenma a mask. Kenma shook his head.

“Too late for that,” he sighed.

“Yeah, but several of Shinzen and Fukurodani’s players have gone down with the same thing as our fearless leader here. We’re trying to contain it so it doesn’t spread more,” Kai explained.

“Yeah. Exactly. You wear one too, Kuroo,” Yaku insisted. Kuroo didn’t like the idea of having his mouth covered, but he also didn’t like the idea of spreading this wretched fate to others.

Kenma and Kuroo took the masks and then Yaku pulled some meds out of the bag on his shoulder and handed them to him. Kuroo’s lip curled, but Kenma pinched his elbow and he relented. They hit his stomach with a hollow thud.

Kai held a hand out to help Kuroo up. As soon as he stood, his knees buckled and black spots danced in his vision. Kai quickly caught him around his waist and threw Kuroo’s arm around his shoulder.

“Try not to pass out until we get back to the quarantine room. It’d make things difficult,” Yaku said. Kuroo would’ve rolled his eyes if he had the energy.

Together, they made it back to the classrooms (repurposed as sleeping quarters for the camp). There was a room for people who already puked and one for anyone experiencing symptoms. Kuroo was shocked to find Akaashi there, leaning over a trash can, Bokuto rubbing his back, as well as several Shinzen players, a couple Ubugawa players, and the setter from Karasuno.

Hinata was there as well, sitting beside Kageyama with his arms crossed and a disgruntled look on his face.

Yaku set up a new futon for Kuroo and Kai helped him settle into it. He immediately curled up on his side, exhaling in relief.

They asked if he needed anything, promised to bring him a change of clothes, and left. Kenma saw them out but then came back and plopped himself down beside Kuroo.

“You can go, Kenma,” he said, looking up at him with one eye open. Kenma shrugged.

“I wouldn’t leave you,” he said plainly. Like it wasn’t embarrassing at all. Kuroo smiled to himself.

“What’s with Chibi-Chan?” He asked in lieu of a response. Kenma snickered.

“His team sent him here when Kageyama came down with the bug. Apparently their “secret relationship” isn’t so secret.”

Kuroo chuckled. That was probably why Akaashi and Bokuto were both here as well.

“You know,” Kenma said.

“Hmm,” Kuroo replied sleepily.

“No one thinks you’re less of a Leader just because you’re sick. It happens to everyone. Doesn’t mean you’re not still someone other people look up to,” Kenma said quietly, matter-of-fact.

“Mmm.. you’re right,” he muttered back. He was. Kuroo knew that. He appreciated the reminder though.

“Go to sleep, Tetsu,” Kenma said and stretched his legs out beside Kuroo. He ran his fingers through Kuroo’s hair. Sleep called to him and his eyes slowly closed.

He woke up several times before the next morning, because of other people puking, because he needed to puke and once when Kenma puked, swearing Kuroo out for getting him sick.

He apologized profusely and pulled Kenma’s hair back with the hair tie he kept on his wrist.

Kuroo was a Leader. Someone other people liked and looked up to.

Sometimes Leaders needed someone to lean on too, he supposed. Thank goodness he had Kenma.

[cianmars]

Step Robin Series: The Heir. AO3

Robin is married to the cold hearted Queen Ruth, but is biding his time to kill her and David, who told Robin's father of his relationship with Marian, getting Marian killed.

When David becomes ill, his mother banishes him to his tower so he won't be near anyone else, Robin can't help but take pity on him and reluctantly takes charge of getting him better.

Basically Robin is Regina and David is Snow AU.

Inspired by @findingtallahassee

Robin had been intent upon hating David:

After all he had told Robin’s father that Robin was in love with Marian - so Francis had killed her in front of him, and Robin had been forced to marry Ruth.

Ruth was closed off, she had apparently had a rocky marriage with King Robert, Robin was relieved that other than official engagements, and emotionless sex, Robin didn’t spend a lot of time with her.

But neither did David.

Robin had been intent upon hating David… but he couldn’t, not fully.

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Robin was stood in the common, he had set up targets and was stood aiming his bow and arrow at them in turn, it was early in the morning and very few people were around.

He pulled the string back, then let the arrow fly, it hit the direct centre exactly where he had aimed it.

“Can you teach me?”

Robin jumped at the small voice. He quickly recovered and looked down at David who stood fidgeting by Robin’s side, he was still in his bed clothes and he kept sniffling.

“Why are you awake? And why are you outside in your night clothes?”  

David shrugged awkwardly. “I couldn’t sleep. And I’m bored.”

“Why don’t you play with your toys before your tutor comes? Or go and find a book in the library?” Robin suggested. “Arrows aren’t toys.”

“My tutors not coming. And I’m not allowed to go to the library until I’m no longer poorly.” David was pouting now, and sniffling even more.

Robin frowned. “I’m sure if you spoke to your mother-”

“-I’m not allowed to go near mother until I’m better, she doesn’t want to get poorly. Nanny checks on me sometimes and the healer, but I have to stay by myself so people don’t become unwell…” He took a step back. “Sorry, I didn’t think about you getting sick too… I’ll go back to my bedchamber.”

Robin watched as David headed back to his tower as fast as he possibly could, coughing as he did.

Robin felt a stab in his heart.

He wanted to hate the child… but…

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He paced back to the castle, instead of heading back to his own chambers he headed down into the bowels of the castle.

The servants immediately stopped talking when they saw the king, he smiled slightly at them to try and put them at ease, he headed to the head cook.

“King Robin, your highness, is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes, I’ve been made aware that Prince David is unwell, and I was told that you are from the same area of the kingdom as my mother, in fact you used to work at our castle, I’m sorry I didn’t know that until now.”

The cook cutsied again. “There is no need to apologise, your highness, none at all.”

“I remember, when I was a boy and was unwell, you used to make a chicken soup which always made me feel better.” He took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you could make it again, for the Prince, if you’re not already.

The cook beamed. “I would be honoured to. Prince David’s nanny has me making a clear broth for him, should I tell her that you asked me to change it?”

“I’ll tell her. Thank you, Nora.” He started to walk away then turned back to look at her. “Oh erm, could you please have it sent to my room, I’d like to keep an eye on my step son while he’s ill.” He could see that it clearly pleased her that he was taking charge of the boy, she smiled and nodded.

He headed next to the healers, there he gathered both the healer in charge of David, and an older, quieter, healer. He frowned hearing that the original healer had done little to actually help David’s illness, he asked the older healer if she knew of anything to help his illness and his lung problem, she nodded quickly and explained a little about some potions she could make using herbs to help, and that she would teach David’s previous healer them too.

The younger healer protested that it was David’s physician who had told her to give David the antiquated medicine. Robin gave her a look he had learnt from his father and she soon shut up.

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Robin’s blood was boiling, by the time he reached David’s tower. He took the stone stairs two at a time. His own father had been terrible, much like David’s, but at least he had his mother. Queen Ruth basically had her own son locked in a tower whenever he was sick, away from her, and barely able to even talk to anyone.

It wasn’t right.

He flung the door open with a little too much gusto, David hadn’t been near it (luckily) but he still scrambled back, dropping the wooden horse and cart he had been playing with.

“I’msorryI’msorry.” David skidded to the corner of the room bringing his arms up to protect his head.

Robin stopped and crouched a little from David. “Whoa, what are you sorry for?” The boy didn’t answer so he was forced to think, then it dawned on him. “You think you’re in trouble because you went outside while you’re sick?”

“Because I went near you. You’re”

His voice was so small and heartbreaking that Robin forgot (at least momentarily) that he had vowed to get his revenge on David for getting Marian killed. “ David, I’m not angry.” He sighed. “You’re a child, and you’re sick; that means you get to stay close to those who love you, or at least those who know you should be cared for.”

David lowered his arms, tilted his head to the side, but stayed quiet.

Robin sighed again. “I’m only doing this because you’ll be too sick to remember it properly.” He picked the boy up into his arms, he noticed a slightly worn teddy bear on the boys bed and passed it to David.

“Where are we going?” David was beyond confused as Robin left the room and started to carry him across the castle, and up the stairs of a tower he had never stepped foot inside.

Robin didn’t say anything as he carried him through the door at the top of the tower, to his own room, it was warm as the servants had lit the fire for him ready for him after going for a shoot.

He placed David onto the bed and pulled the blankets up around him. He tucked him in and took a seat beside him on the bed.

David looked around the room, it was bigger than his own but had the same large four poster bed. The curtains on the bed had deep green velvet curtains, compared to his own red ones, though both had the same gold piping. In fact there was a lot of green around the room, including a forest mural which wrapped around the room. When he finally looked back at Robin he was tucking yet another blanket around him. “This is your room?”

“It is. It’s warmer than yours, and as soon as you’re feeling better you’re going back to your room.”

“Okay.” David agreed quickly, and mostly just to make sure Robin wasn’t going to kick him out immediately.

Robin remembered the times he would crawl into his mother's bed when he was sick, he had always sworn to himself he would be as kind and caring as her, he had assumed he was going to be able to do so with his own kids with Marian. Now the only way he would be able to with his own biological children was if he produced an heir with Queen Ruth, like everyone was urging them to, it was expected of them.

It was why his bastard of a father was more than happy to stoke the fire of his hatred of David. He hated that he knew he was being played but couldn’t change it.

He stood up quickly.

David knew that Robin must have realised his mistake in bringing David here. “I’m sorry I- I knew I shouldn’t have come here, I’m really really sorry Robin. You’ll get sick, I’m not allowed to get anyone important sick, I’m not allowed near you, mother will be furious.”

Robin felt his blood boil again. “I’m going to kill-”

“- I’m sorry! ”

“No! No, not you David.” Robin moved quickly to stop the boy from scrambling out of the bed, he already looked like he could be knocked over with a feather. “Lay back down now, you’re not going anywhere. You’re not to blame for being unwell, that idiot of a swordsman had you practicing sword movements in a storm. I’m not mad at you I’m mad at-...” he stopped himself knowing he shouldn’t say what he really wanted to. “You’re staying here until I say so. I wasn’t moving to do anything, I was simply going to bathe and change clothes, I was outside practicing for a long while before you came to join me outside.”  

Robin started to walk to his bathing room where he knew a hot cath would be waiting for him. He stopped and looked back at the small boy shivering in the massive bed. “You’re meant to be looked after. You’re going to be from now on.”

“...Robin?”

“Yes?”

David hesitated, he shouldn’t say it but his fever made the control impossible. “I wish you were my real dad.”

Robin’s eyes widened and he became frozen. What could he say to that? He finally managed to move again. “Get some sleep David.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He stayed in his bath for longer than normal, he was hoping that David would be asleep when he went back through to his bedroom, but the boy was stubbornly avoiding his fevered dreams.

Robin walked over to his desk and picked up a battered old book.

He took a seat on the bed next to David again. He opened the book and started to read to David, it was a book of legends his maternal grandfather had gifted him one Yuletide.

He paused only when he felt a sudden pressure against his side, he looked down and saw David was curled into his side, nearly asleep, Robin refrained from pushing him away, instead he continued to read until the boy was finally asleep.

With the fire burning high, the rain lashing against the windows, and David sleeping soundly cuddled against his side, it was no surprise that Robin was soon quietly snoring too.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next night Robin paced his floor as two physicians stood in his room arguing over what to give David.

“Enough!” He shouted, finally, he was happy enough to take his frustrations on the men squabbling as David burnt up. “Enough arguing, I am sick of it. This isn’t about your own problems with each other, this is about the Prince, the heir of this kingdom - so know, if you don’t cure him, I will have you hung, drawn, and quartered for regicide.”

Both of the older men sunk into themselves like chastised children at Robin’s growled threats.

“Alistair, what do you propose?”

“The traditional treatment is to flay a fat cat, clean it and draw out the guts. We take the grease of a hedgehog and the fat of a bear, ad resins, and fenugreek, and sage, and the gum of honeysuckle and virgin wax: We stuff a cat as we would a goose, roast it all, then anoint the young Prince with the grease.” He held his nose high in the air as he spoke, barely managing to hide the sneer in his voice at being questioned. “The ancient physicians suggested a drink of owl blood with wine, which we will try if the grease does not cure him. Then it is up to the almighty fates.”

Robin’s frown deepened as he took a seat beside the bed, he ran his hair through David’s curls automatically, it was wet with sweat as the shivering boy burned up. “And you Constantine?”

“A potion of lungwort and belladonna has been very effective for illnesses of the lungs. For the cough I can mix horehound with diapenidion it will be like a sweet treat for the young Prince and will help his cough. I have had a lot of success with this treatment, your Highness.”

Robin thanked his lucky stars and absolutely any and every god that at least Constatine had a treatment which was more likely to work, and that he was familiar with. “Constantine we will start with your treatment. Alistair you are more than welcome to pray to the fates, you are dismissed. Constatine please visit the healers and tell them that you will be taking over David’s treatment. Please inform the Queen that I approved it too, and begin as soon as possible.”

He waited for the physicans to bow to him and leave his room before pulling David into his arms, he picked up an icy cold rag from a bowl on the bedside table and pressed it to David’s forehead, the boy whimpered in his sleep and tried to turn his head. “It’s okay, son, I’m sorry but this will help. It’s going to be okay Davey.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Robin spent the next three weeks barely sleeping and worrying constantly about David. The improvement was slow but he improved more than he would have with the other more ‘traditional’ physician’s idea.

“You need to eat all of your soup, David.”

“But I’m bored.” David pouted.

“I don’t care, now, eat the soup. You’ll be going back to your old dining experience tomorrow: Your mother and I are going on a tour of the kingdom for a week.”

David’s face fell. “Oh… I forgot about that.”

Robin felt bad, yet again.

He had been cooped up inside with David the entire three weeks, he was happy to be able to leave even if it was with Ruth, at least he could make a difference in the villages and towns they would be visiting. He forgot it meant David would be left with tutors, and the members of court which Robin had seen happily socialising with with his own father. Luckily Ruth’s ladies in waiting and David’s nanny were nice and would look after him, but Robin had a feeling David would feel lonely suddenly going back to being as alone as he had always been.

“When I get back, if you have behaved, I’ll talk to your mother about bringing you along next time we leave. And maybe I will you how to fire arrows when I return.” He couldn’t help but smile as David buzzed with excitement. “Now, finish your soup and you can come with me to the kitchens to get a cake. You need to stretch those legs again if you ever want to become a knight.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning of Robin and Ruth’s departure the king headed out of his tower to go and talk to the chef Nora about making David something to cheer him up that night.

He had been happy to have his entire bed to himself that week, even if he found himself missing David a little, though the prince seemed to be following him around as much as possible particularly when Robin didn’t want him around.

“It looks like you’ve taken to fatherhood like a duck to water.”

Robin’s blood turned cold. He turned to look to the voice Prince Francis was leisurely leaning against a pillar next to the door leading to his tower. He hid his fear and put on a look as stony as the pillar his father was leaning against. “As you did.”

Francis let out a bark of genuine laughter. He took a step towards his son. “I thought you would be getting rid of the little prince, after that incident with the scullery maid at our estate, yet I hear you’re the one to thank for him being alive still.”

Robin clenched his fist hearing his father mention Marian, he hadn’t even bothered to remember her name, if David hadn’t told…. If he hadn’t told Francis Marian would still be alive, and he and Marian would be together. He felt hatred for David swell up for a second, then it faded, to just twenty percent, he hadn’t known Francis, he had been manipulated, but Robin still wished he hadn’t told.

“Of course. The kingdom will go into panic if he dies and we’re left with no heir and no spare, which I’m also working on. Once we do, and they’ve reached the age where they’d be safe from infant death, then, and only then, will the prince have an accident. I will be seen as being close to him and will avoid any suspicion. Then the Queen, in her grief, will also sadly depart.”

Francis slapped him on the back and let out another bark of laughter. “I’m proud of you, Robin.”

Robin felt his skin crawl. He wanted to vomit.

“Now, let us go dine with the Queen, I am to depart to a kingdom across the realm at the same time you leave and I was promised a breakfast with the two of you.”

“I was never informed of this.”

“Maybe I wished to leave it as a surprise for my only son.” He led Robin towards the hall with his hand on his son’s neck, keeping him firmly in his control.

[hurt-care]

Old-Timey Descriptions of Hay Fever, Round 3

Some more incredible descriptions from medical articles about hay fever written in the late 1800s

“I cannot accurately discover when I was first taken ill with this affliction, but I recollect that about ten years back, I was in the habit of remarking that ‘I seldom took cold in the winter, only in summer-time.’ At this period I considered it to be a cold, and treated it accordingly. Some time after this, some one suggested that my complaint was hay fever, which I had never heard of; and I then became aware of my disease.

For three years when I was a Master at College, I was surrounded by meadows, and moreover, my school-room was was on the ground-floor opening to the quadrangle. Here, daily, during the summer the gardener was engaged in mowing the grass. Even when I was unaware of his presence, and felt comparatively well, the fit would all at once come on, and I found that he had begun mowing. The effect has been so bad on me that I have had to go home and got to bed, my jaws aching, my eyes smarting and every sign of a painful influenza being present. 

One year while there, I suffered at nights from severe asthma, often jumping up in bed half-choked. This year in the middle of April, the periodical attack arouse from a strange cause. I was occupied in adding fresh water to some flowers in a vase; the water had been standing for several days, and was foul, and as I poured it away my annual visitor came on.

I have known some curious symptoms in others. A relative by marriage, a young farmer residing near the coast, would frequently be attacked in the hay-field; he would then completely lose his sight, and had to be led by his men to the sea-shore, where he would sit down for half-an-hour, when he would recover and be able to go on again. A medical gentleman, Dr [name redacted] used to suffer from hay-fever, and was confined for weeks to his bed, and unable to attend to his patients.”

I attended, in the months of June 1845, 1846, and 1847, a Cornish baronet who upon each of these several occasions suffered severely for a week or fortnight from a sharp attack of hay-fever. He had repeatedly been invalided in a similar way in former years; and, as his attacks in each instance were invariably preceded by recent exposure to the vapour of newly made hay, or to the smell of the bean field when the plants were in full bloom, he seemed throughly aware of the character of his indisposition; and, without a moment’s hesitation, called it ‘hay-fever’.

The slightest exposure in hot dry weather to the influence of the vapour of newly made hay, or to the aroma emanating from bean-plants in blossom, was in a few hours followed by a sudden and severe attack of sneezing, copious defluxion of the eyes and nose, fever, and all the other symptoms of an influenza cold.

On one occasion he went down to the Pangbourne from London for a day’s fishing. In the evening of the same day, having been in some meadows where hay-making was going on, he became suddenly oppressed and feverish, short breathed, with sneezing, running at the nose, increased lachrymal secretion, pain over the frontal sinuses, considerable oedema of the eyelids, and swelling of the nose. There was not much cough, and but little expectoration; but the sneezing was almost incessant, twenty or thirty times in succession, lasting for an hour or more with very brief intervals, and leaving him, after copious defluxion, with severe headache, considerable weakness, and otherwise feeling very unwell.

A second attack occurred after a drive through Willesden and on towards Harrow on a fine evening after a very hot day during the hay-making season in the month of June. Having been quite well previously, he heedlessly took this drive, and was rewarded by an attack exactly similar to one of the previous year. The third that came under my notice in this gentleman’s case followed in the course of a few hours, a visit to Lord’s Cricket ground, where he remained a couple of hours or so, enjoying, though without joining in a match that was then going on. He was attacked in the evening with precisely similar simpletons to those of the preceding year; and he was unfit to attend to his ordinary advocations for a week or ten days, or as nearly as possible for the same time that he was invalided in the previous years. 

“I am twenty nine years of age, and can recollect certainly for fifteen years being annually attacked by this malady (summer catarrh). This year (1865) it first came on whist I was on the sea, yachting with a friend. It was a hot day in May, with wind from the S.W., the nearest land to windward being nine miles distant. I felt myself, after some exertion in assisting to hoist the sails, suddenly seized with sneezing, and I have had it ever since.

I dare take no exercise expect very slow walking, or I become a most pitiable object. My eyes are inflamed to a fearful extent, the discharge from my nose is immense, the perspiration oozes from every pore of my skin, and I am often obliged to change my linen. I seldom get asthma; if I do, it does not last longer than a night or two.   

“The nostrils become at once obstructed, the nose itches violently, and paroxysm of sneezing, lasting sometimes for an hour at a time, occur at frequent intervals. The exterior of the nose becomes intensely red. There is nearly always present a short, hacking, dry, harassing cough, which is relieved by steurnation. With the obstruction of the nostrils, the severity of the symptoms is increased; there is an annoying tickling sensation in the throat, which the patient feels ‘she must tear out with her nails’, the voice becomes husky, nasty and easily fatigued. 

[vampwrrrmistresslist]

Hurt 4

A/N:  This is chapter 4 of a finished fic, the links for which can be found on my mistresslist.

Monsieur Kim crouched next to you, as you wordlessly looked up at him, eyes filled with distressed censure.  

“I had to,” he said simply.  “Despite the past…I’d not consign you to this shadowed half-existence, if I had the power to avert it.”

Monsieur Boudreaux moved quickly, coming to stand between you, and your attacker.

Closing your eyes, you collapsed flat against the ground, too exhausted and pained to do more than concentrate on breathing.  You brought a trembling hand once more to the stake but, seeing your movement out of the corner of his eye, Monsieur Boudreaux half turned his face to you, saying, “Leave it in, chère fille. If you take it out now, without feeding, you will bleed to death.”

With a conciliatory air, he turned back to the stranger, who had made no attempts to leave, saying, “I apologize for my ward’s impertinence, monsieur; you can assign her lack of manners to my charge.”

“She robbed me of my gustation, sir.”

“What were you eating?”

The stranger shrugged.  “Just some girl.”

Monsieur Boudreaux nodded, and spread his hands apologetically.  “Eh, bien, you see, she’s rather sensitive to that sort of thing.”  He looked around, consideringly.  “However…the night is young.  I’m sure that you’ll quickly be able to find something to eat, if you leave now.”

The man smiled. “Just so.  However, I’m not inclined to let this discourtesy stand.  My grievance is with her, not you.  Give her to me, and I’ll be on my way.”

Monsieur Boudreaux shook his head, a rueful smile ghosting about his mouth.  “I’ve already named her my ward…therefore you are fully aware that I cannot do that.”

Smiling again, the stranger answered, “Perhaps, sir.  But now my blood is up, and your little ward didn’t provide me with enough of a fight to cool my ire.”

Nodding again, Monsieur Boudreaux looked at the ground.  With a powerful spring, he was suddenly upon the man, his large hand wrapped around the shorter man’s throat.  Eyes wide, he asked, in an eerily calm voice, “Is this enough fight for you, monsieur” before digging his claws into the man’s neck, and ripping out part of his spine, through his throat.

The man’s blood pattered in an arc across the square, across your face, and you started in dreadful revulsion, but couldn’t draw in enough breath to scream.  This was so much more brutal, so much more visceral than your way.

Monsieur Kim was still crouched next to you, his expression grim, as you both watched Monsieur Boudreaux calmly drag the stranger’s body, by his ruined neck, over to you.  As he approached, you saw in mounting horror that the man was still alive, his head flopping grotesquely, his jaw working as if he were trying to speak.

You tried to drag yourself away, but your arms merely skittered across the cobblestones.  

Monsieur Kim rose suddenly, putting his body between you, and the approaching Monsieur Boudreaux.  “What is the meaning of this, sir?”

“Step aside, or I will walk right through you, miserable spectre,” Monsieur Boudreaux pronounced, his tone dismissive.  

Monsieur Kim set his jaw.  “Stop!  Can you not see that you’re terrifying her?”

“This, fantôme, is the only way to save her!”

After taking a moment to search Monsieur Boudreaux’s eyes, Monsieur Kim stepped aside.  

Monsieur Boudreaux crouched in front of you, wrapping his other hand around the stake, and abruptly pulling it out and throwing it away.

Your body jerked at its removal, and blood started to spurt from the wound in earnest, pouring down your shoulders to pool beneath you on the ground. Fiery pain roared through your breast, and your vision began to darken.  

Monsieur Boudreaux took the man, and unceremoniously shoved his throat into your mouth.  Convulsively, you swallowed, but then tried to turn your head.  Monsieur Boudreaux stroked your hair, crooning, “Non, non, ma petite, this is what you need to become well.  A human would be better, but this will have to do.”

You closed your mouth, refusing to drink, turning your head from the ruin of the man who had attacked you.  

Tutting, Monsieur Boudreaux remonstrated, “Ma chère, I’ve no desire to force you, but I will.”  

Looking up, you caught Monsieur Kim’s eye.  He nodded once, grimly.  You shook your head.  

“Do it,” he said, his voice low.  

You closed your eyes, and clenched your teeth, fighting against the almost overwhelming desire to grab the man by the hair, bury your face into his neck, and drink until he was no more than dry bones.  Then you heard it.  

“Please.  Please, mademoiselle.  Please drink.  Please.  Don’t leave me.”

Opening your eyes, your gaze met Monsieur Kim’s, and he was on his knees beside you, his expression stricken.  

Closing your eyes from the gruesome sight before you, you turned, opened your mouth, and drank.

***

You opened your eyes to an unfamiliar room.  Sitting up, you looked around to see Monsieur Kim sitting in a chair in the corner.  

His attention snapped to you as soon as you sat up, and he stood and walked over, sitting beside you and reaching for your hands, before realization came over his face, and he subsided.

“Where am I?” you queried.

He grimaced.  “You’re in Monsieur Boudreaux’s home.  He carried you here, after…the incident.”

Eyes widening in shock, you threw back the covers, and stood, only to waver, and fall back to the bed.  A familiar pain that you hadn’t felt in months clawed its way up your stomach, and seized your throat, and you groaned.

“Mademoiselle!” Monsieur Kim exclaimed.  “Are you still unwell?  Please, sit still for a moment, and compose yourself.”

“Monsieur Kim,” you panted, eyes glazed with pain as you looked up at him.  “Do you hate me this much?  Why didn’t you let this wretched existence end when there was a chance?”

His face paled, and his expression was nothing short of horrified. He shook his head, eyes never leaving yours, as his face became stern, almost angry.  “Mademoiselle, you will not say anything like that ever again, do you hear?  I forbid it!”

“Forbid?” You laughed mirthlessly.  “I detest what I am!  You detest what I am. You asked me not to leave you alone, but what else is keeping you here?  It only makes sense that upon my demise, you will be set free!”

“I refuse to hear any more of this nonsense!”

You turned away.  “Then leave.”

“I cannot do that.”

“Whyever not?”

“Because you’re still hurt.”

“I’ll be fine!” you growled bitterly.  “That’s just it.  No matter what happens, I’m always fine!  So, go!”

“I’m not leaving.”

“I wish to be alone.”

“I care not.”

“Why won’t you leave me to be miserable in peace?!”

“Because I still love you!”

You stopped breathing, your eyes wide, as you stared at each other.

The door opened, and in strode Monsieur Boudreaux.  “Finally, you’re awake!”

“Finally?!” you echoed, still dumbfounded over Monsieur Kim’s confession.  Dazedly, you inquired, “How long have I been here?”

“A number of days,” Monsieur Kim answered.  

Face blanching, you struggled once more to rise.  “My parents! How can I ever explain?  I–”

“Calm yourself, chérie,” Monsieur Boudreaux crooned.  “I spoke to that lady’s maid of yours, and she has concocted a story about your being sick in your room, all this time, with the congestive fever.  She has remained in your room, to ostensibly tend to you.”

“You spoke to Cosette?”

“I told him that she knows,” Monsieur Kim said.

“A jewel, that one,” Monsieur Boudreaux mused.  

A sudden cramping in your gut doubled you over, and you cried out, clawing at the coverlet.  It was growing difficult to think, much less speak.

Monsieur Boudreaux tsked.  “This is why finding a human would have been better.  Alas, we did not have the time.  It has been a number of days since you have been able to eat, however, and if you don’t do it soon, your body will do it for you.”

Monsieur Kim looked up in alarm.

Laughing softly at his expression, Monsieur Boudreaux nodded.  “That is the way of it.  If we do not feed while we can, the mind shuts down, we become no better than beasts, and we eat the first thing we come across. However, no one should know that better than you, hein, mon ami?”

Monsieur Kim’s face reddened, and he growled, “You are altogether vile, Boudreaux!”

“Yet, I am here, and you are not,” Monsieur Boudreaux taunted.  “At least…not in any way that truly matters.”

Panting, shaking, a fine sheen of sweat covering your skin, you tried to rise. “Be silent, monsieur!” you grated as you pushed yourself once more off of the bed.

“Do not overtax yourself,” he crooned.  “I have something for you.”

A sigh of relief ghosted past your lips, and you sank back bonelessly to the bed.  

He left the room, but was back in a moment, with something in his arms. When he drew closer, and you saw what it was, both you and Monsieur Kim leapt back, unadulterated horror on your faces.  You pushed yourself into the furthest corner of the room, digging your claws into the plaster, in an effort to lock yourself in place.  “Monsieur,” you started, your voice hollow and breathless.  Unable to finish, for the combined abhorrence and pain that clogged your throat, you just wordlessly shook your head, in desperation.

“You are no gentleman!” Monsieur Kim thundered, placing his body in front of yours, so that you would not have to see what Boudreaux held in his arms. “You, sir, are a villain! Nothing more than a depraved fiend!”

You closed your eyes, trying to shut out the world.  The hunger, the yelling, the horror, the tempting scent.  For what Boudreaux held in his arms.  What he gently placed on the bed–

–was your precious little Angeline.

The noxious odour of the same chemical that had been used on you, all those months ago, rose up, choking you with its panic-inducing scent.  

“What have you done?” you whimpered, heart pounding against your ribs.  

“I?  I’ve merely brought you your much needed dinner.  Now, be a good dear, and have something to eat.” Boudreaux replied.

“Non.  Non.  Non, non, non, non, non!” you shrieked, your voice escalating in panic.  “Take her away!  Take her back!”

“I understand that you have developed a penchant for the child, but the fact remains that if you do not eat soon, you will go, forgive the lack of a better term, quite rabid.”

“That child is her charge!” Monsieur Kim shouted, his strong voice the only thing currently anchoring you to your sanity.  “How dare you suggest she commit such a revolting abomination!”

“This child is what is standing between her, and good health.  She is unconscious; she will feel no pain.” Boudreaux’s voice was dismissive.  

“Take her back!” you rasped, having even lost the energy to scream.

Boudreaux’s eyes narrowed.  “I will not!  You are so stubborn! Just like your arrière grand-mère!”

You shook your head at the non sequitur.

Monsieur Kim took over for you.  “What the devil are you talking about, Boudreaux?”

“You knew…my…” you coughed, the sweet scent of Angeline’s blood flowing in her veins, making you swallow convulsively.

“Knew her?” he asked, his voice quiet.  “I loved her!”

Your eyes shot to his.  

His face was red, and his breathing was elevated. Running a finger under his collar, he turned, and raked his hands through his hair, making it stand on end.  

The distraction of his distress gave you a precious modicum of control, and you rose with effort.  

Monsieur Kim came to stand beside you, and though you couldn’t lean on him, you were grateful for the comfort of his mere presence.  “Explain this!” you demanded.

Boudreaux was quiet for a moment.  When he turned to you, his eyes were sad as he looked between you, and Monsieur Kim. “Oui, I knew her.”

“Did you own her?” Your voice was biting.

A sharp crack reverberated around the room, and your cheek stung.  You hadn’t even seen him approach.  Turning slowly, you met Boudreaux’s eyes, but his intense gaze didn’t falter under your own.  

Monsieur Kim stepped between you, and shoved.  Boudreaux’s body went flying across the room, and you gasped in surprise.  “Jonginah!”  He turned to you, his eyes dark, as he brought his hand to your reddened cheek.  When he went to touch it, however, it passed through, and he looked infinitely sad.  

Boudreaux lay in a crumpled heap in the corner, staring up at the ceiling, a tear slowly trailing down his cheek. Sighing, he shook his head.  “Own her?” He laughed ruefully. “Geneviève was une femme de couleur librée, as you well know.”

You looked past Jongin to where Boudreaux was still lying.  “I know she died early.  Did you…?”

His smile was bitter.  “After her husband, your arrière grand-père, died, I became her protecteur and, whatever you may think, we loved each other.  I wanted to spirit her away from this accursed place–with its unholy, abominable laws–take her North.  I wanted,” his jaw worked as he cried soundlessly.  “I wanted to marry her! I loved her, ma foi, how I did love her!  Mais, alas!”  He shook his head.  “One day, I was out riding, and my horse spooked and threw me.  I fell, and hit my head, and by the time they were able to bring me home, I was already dying.  Unbeknownst to me, my grandfather was…one of us.  We just always thought that he was possessed of a particularly hale constitution.  Of course, he couldn’t bear the thought of the death of his grandson, and so…” Boudreaux languidly waved a hand, then fell silent.

“And so?” Jongin prompted, turning his head slightly to Boudreaux, though his eyes never left your face.

Boudreaux sighed.  “And so.  He had never approved of plaçage, and so he left me to wake up…with Geneviève.”

You gasped, and Jongin turned back to you.  

“You know, ma chère.  You know what it’s like to awaken.  You know nothing except hunger.  You are nothing but hunger.  And so…”

“You killed her,” you whispered.

“‘You said I killed you–haunt me then. The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe–I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always–take any form–drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!’ ” Boudreaux finally turned to you, a mirthless smile grotesquely stretching his face, as tears ran down his cheeks.  “Eh, bien, you know what that’s like, n’est-ce pas?”

Jongin’s eyes were tragic, as they ran over your face.  

Overwhelmed, you shook your head.  Rushing forward, you snatched up Angeline into your arms, and then ran down the stairs, and out of that accursed house.

***

Upon reaching your home, and climbing the stairs, you collapsed against your door.  Cosette opened it,  gasping upon seeing you with Angeline in your arms.  “Mademoiselle!  Mademoiselle! She whispered, shaking you.

You didn’t have the strength to respond.  

Cosette dragged you both into the room, but before she could close the door, Jongin was there.  She covered her mouth just in time to muffle her scream.

“Cosette!  It is imperative that you listen to everything that I have to say!” he said.

She nodded, her eyes wide, as she tried not to panic.  

Jongin explained everything, and by the time he was done, Cosette had fallen to her knees beside you, gently trying to wrest Angeline from your arms.  

You growled, and she shrank back.  

Then, swallowing, and summoning her courage, she crawled forward once more, crooning, “Mademoiselle, it is your own Cosette.  Sweet mademoiselle, give Cosette le bébé, hein?”  She stroked your shoulder, and slowly, slowly pulled Angeline from your arms.  Lifting her, she left the room.

She returned shortly, walking around Jongin to crouch next to you.  

“Why are you back so soon?” Jongin asked her.  “I’ve already told you that she needs something to eat!”

“I understood, m’sieur,” she said distantly.

You could hear them talking, but the sound came from far away.  You stared listlessly.

“Well then, go and fetch your mistress something before falls into an even worse state!”

“M’sieur… Leave, s’il vous plâit.”

“What?!  Why would I–?  Oh, no!  No!  Absolutely not!  Do you even know what you’re suggesting?! She can’t control herself when she’s like this!”

Cosette stood, raising determined eyes up to his.  “She is my mistress, and I am, and will ever be, her loyal Cosette.”  She advanced upon him, and he retreated instinctively.  With one last look up into his eyes, Cosette set her jaw, and closed the door.

***

You were walking through your house, but no one was home.  Every door was open, and late afternoon sunlight shone through all the windows, making the house glow with a golden light.  Wandering from room to room, you looked for someone, but you weren’t sure whom.  Upon reaching your room, you found a young woman sitting in the rocking chair in the corner, slowly rocking, and crocheting.  When you drew closer, you saw that what she was creating what appeared to be the blanket that you normally kept over your bed.

She looked up at you and, despite her countenance, you felt no surprise, only calm.  She had your face.  Her skin was darker, the rich colour of warm honey, and the curls that tumbled over her shoulders, and down her back were tighter, but other than that, she could have been you.

Tilting her head, she smiled. Mon bébé.  Do you like your coverlet?  She didn’t speak, but you knew her words, all the same.

You nodded.  

Come have a seat by me, ma chère.

Sitting beside her on the floor, you rested your head upon her lap, your cheek against the familiar soft cotton of your blanket.  

I’m glad that you can finally hear me, chère.  I’ve been calling you pour un longtemps.  She began to lovingly stroke your hair.  I can’t stay long, mon coeur.  

You nodded again, sadly.  I know.

Understand, you mustn’t be too cross with Bastien.  He wasn’t always as you know him.  When we were young, he was…beautiful.  So gentle…kind…unfailingly courteous, to everyone–slave and free.  He never even raised his voice to his horse, much less a person.  Her face was infinitely sad.  He used to recite poetry.  He would spend entire afternoons reading stories of love to me.  However, years alone have twisted him, made him into something he was never meant to be.  You’ll have to free him, mon ange.  

Raising your head, you looked at her askance.  

She reached out to gently caress your curls. Listen.  Remember.  A sire’s blood can heal the first victim of his ward.  

Then, why didn’t he do that for you?

Her eyes were sad.  He didn’t know.  And even if he had, he wasn’t a murderer, much less of his own dear grand-père.  Even if he had known, I never would have asked it of him.  

Why do you tell me this?

Find your Jongin.

Jonginah is dead.  I killed him.  You were bitter.  

Not dead, chère.  

He sleeps.

If you want the latest updates, and links for easier reading, then follow me @vampwrrr.

[feverhalo]

A Quiet Day (FMA)

FMA Exhaustion!fic/Sick!fic

Sick/Exhausted!Ed, A+ Brother Al, and Parental Roy and Riza caring for the two of them awww

Basically some minimally edited (i read through it twice) indulgent shit because I had a sad and wanted to write something vaguely comforting.

1914 words long, and dreadful tense abuse im sure. No real warnings needed, but there is passing mention of their mom and kind of like that semi-depressed funk of exhaustion (or at least thats what it was supposed to be)

Ed laid with his head pillowed in his arms. He sniffled back the congestion causing his face to throb and felt it gather in the back of his throat. He kicked his good leg out from under the covers with a groan, and Alphonse found it hard to keep quiet.

 “Do you need medicine, brother?” Al’s shoulders slumped with a creak of the cold metal. Ed had been laying in bed like this for hours, not answering past head shakes or something so muffled Al couldn’t understand. “Can I at least take your temperature? We still have a thermometer somewhere…”

 Ed sniffed again and swallowed before shaking his head. He rolled to his side to look at Alphonse before rubbing at his watery, red-rimmed eyes and swiping his wrist under his nose. His head was so stuffed and felt so thick, and he tried to just wrap up in a blanket and sleep it off, but the stubborn lack of a fever made it feel silly. He stretched his arms over his head and felt his back pop and his heavy muscles pull. It almost felt good to sit up and stretch a little, but that energy would fade soon.

 “Are you going to finish getting dressed?” Al looked over to where Ed had dropped his night clothes, and managed to get his pants and one sock on before flopping back into bed. He hadn’t moved much until now, but somehow his loosely-tied hair was even more of a knotted mess.

 “I guess,” Ed’s one eye crinkled as he swallowed after speaking, arm brushing up under his chin before being used to push himself up.

 “Why don’t you just get back in pajamas? Pajamas are more comfortable, even Teacher let us have pajama days.” Just like mom, Ed straightened, more defiant at the unspoken comparison.

 “She’s not here.” He cleared his throat, grabbing the previously abandoned shirt and pulling it on. He eyed his red coat, and threw it over his shoulder before walking out.

 Alphonse sighed and got up to follow. Ed swiped at his nose again, sniffling before coughing into his elbow. The congestion was awful and, though it was only a few coughs the combination was enough to loose a few stray tears. Ed grumbled and wiped them away too before turning and stomping quickly down the stairs. Alphonse locked their door and followed, lighter on his feet and caught the door as it was swinging shut behind his brother.

 The brisk walk through the late-afternoon sun was quiet. Ed clearing his throat now and again, and Alphonse following behind. Anyone else walking on the street gave a wide berth or crossed to the other side. Ed would have likely bowled through them if they hadn’t, focused on moving forward. The steady thud and clang of his mismatched footsteps, the glint off his exposed automail arm, and the set glare on his face; with or without the tell-tale Fullmetal-Red cloak bunched up and slung over his shoulder it was surprisingly intimidating.

 For as listless as he had been all day, once he got to the military HQ, Ed seemed to have more of his energy back. Running on pure spite again, brother?  

 Mustang’s office doors were left slightly ajar to allow better airflow through the summer, and Ed just planted his foot and kicked it open as usual. He cleared his throat once more, and Alphonse noted the brief tensing across his older brother’s shoulders immediately afterwards.

 “Well. You’re here late,” Havoc blinked up at Ed from where he had been working.

 “Well, I’m here.” Ed threw his cloak onto one of the couches. He crossed his arms, forgetting for a second about how warm the automail would be after being outside in the summer sun in just a short-sleeved shirt, but he ignored the bite of the heat at the inside of his arm.

 “Alright,” Havoc held his hands up in surrender. “Hawkeye is out for a minute, but you’ve got some stuff on her desk there. Its all clipped together with your name on it.”

 Ed walked over and picked through some of the piles on her desk, and upon finding his name took that pile and dropped himself into a sitting position on the couch by the door. He tried to clear his throat again but it turned into a single, harsh, cough. Havoc kept to his work, and Alphonse eased himself down beside his brother.

 “Its empty in here today,” Al noted. Havoc chuckled and nodded.

 “It’s a bit of a ghost town, Falman is on vacation, Furey went with Hawkeye, the Boss is squirreled away in his office as usual- and I think Breda is still on the tail end of his vacation from last week actually. Its kind of that time of year where you take it or lose the chance until mid winter.”

 Ed zoned out, reading his paperwork or using his leg as a table to fill in the bits where he was required. As much as he’d prefer being out and researching with Al, and as much as he was teased or suspected of not being able to handle the military work because of his age, Ed could get it done well, and quickly.

 Usually, anyway. The package today seemed endless. He heard Riza and Fury return, and waved when he realized he was being spoken to. A heaviness was settling in across his shoulders and down his arm and into every inch of him again. He hadn’t felt particularly unwell, or dizzy, but this feeling came and went all day. He had nearly hit the floor getting out of bed late this morning because of it.

 Ed scratched at his head, undid and redid his mess of a ponytail, and reread the same page for a third time. He started to read it for a fourth, see if anything would sink in, but just sighed quietly and let himself slump into the high arm of the couch. The heaviness got too much and sapped everything when it hit, so he let it. He shut his eyes and let himself relax for a few moments.

 “How has today been Alphonse? Busy?” Riza looked up from her work now and again during their conversation, and seeing Ed break for a nap, she thought it would be a good time to ask.

 “Um,” Alphonse thought for a moment, “No more so than usual, I guess.”

 “You boys aren’t doing anything special for the summer?”

 “We thought of visiting Teacher, or maybe going to see Winry for a few days, but it just hasn’t felt like the right time I guess.”

 Nobody flinched anymore when Ed fell asleep, he was still young and working demanding hours, and on top of that had automail and other burdens too big for anyone to worry about. It wasn’t uncommon and work life continued around it. He’d usually have a quick ten minutes and wake up and get right back to what he had been doing, or on more trying days or days with heavy rain, he’d excuse himself for a few hours to sleep off the worst of his tension and exhaustion.

 Sleeping for a few hours sitting up, then staring at his leg in the twilight darkness of half-past nine at night was less common. Riza stayed behind with Roy when it was clear Ed was needing more than his usual bit of a rest, and it was just the four of them now in the dim office. One of the desk lamps was left on, and Alphonse was sitting on the other side of the room now with Roy and Riza.

 As Ed became more aware, he realized his coat had been draped over him and his paperwork moved to the desk a few feet away. He shifted a little, still feeling very heavy on top of sore from the slumped position.

 “You awake now, Fullmetal?” Ed cleared his throat and hummed in response to Roy’s question. “You don’t look awake.”

 Ed straightened and lifted his arms in a stretch from underneath his makeshift blanket. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes, before returning his head to the arm of the couch and staring across the room to the other three.

 “Can I finish that tomorrow? I feel really tired,” he pointed to his abandoned papers. Roy laughed through his nose.

 “I’d say so, you’ve been sleeping since four. If you’re that tired you don’t have to come in, Ed. We won’t be unreasonable.” Ed had shut his eyes again and just nodded. Everyone lapsed back into the quiet murmur of getting things put away for the day they had been in before Ed woke up.

 “I don’t feel well,” his cracking voice broke the silence a few minutes later. When he opened his eyes again everyone had moved and were getting ready to leave. “Can I just sleep here for the night, I don’t think I can make it back to our dorm. Sorry, Al.”

 “Don’t worry about it, we’ll drive you back.” Hawkeye sounded much closer now, and Ed felt her hand press to his forehead. There was no heat, but his face was so pale the lack of a temperature offered little comfort. “You just get home and sleep.”

 Ed dragged his eyes open for a second then nodded. He scrunched up his face against a stinging in his eyes before giving a quick cough and pushing himself up to sitting. Alphonse stood nearby, and Ed leaned against him every now and then on the short walk to the car.

 By the time Mustang had pulled up to their building, Ed had fallen asleep again. His breathing was leaving little puffs of mist on the side of Alphonse’s armor. Alphonse eased his way out of the car, going slowly and in short bursts trying to keep down the clattering noise he made.

 Mustang and Riza had exited the car as well, and Ed remained peacefully asleep. Alphonse had leaned down to wake up Ed, but Roy carefully moved his hand through Al’s line of sight to tap his shoulder.

 “I’ll take him up, if you and Hawkeye could hold the doors and show me where to go.” He rolled his shoulders before sitting in the car and leaning across the seat to ease Ed onto his back. “He’s a pain in the ass, but you two are a worthwhile pair of, well, just you, I guess. That was a lot less eloquent than I was trying for.”

 “Thank you, sir,” Alphonse stepped back and tucked into himself. Roy could imagine him as a boy like Ed, blushing in gratitude and slightly indignant at an adult interfering. Riza cleared her throat and pulled open the first door. The hour was getting late, and Ed was still just dozing in his t-shirt in the night air. It would be no good if he got a chill and a fever started.

 “Don’t worry about it. Just make sure you call us if you need anything, and try and keep him from making himself too sick.”

 Roy was quick to put Ed down, and to usher himself and Riza out. No need to over stay a welcome, and no need to work Ed up into a fit, he supposed. Alphonse was thankful for it, because it meant there was nothing he was going to be made to do out of obligation. He wanted to be ready if Ed needed him, and if he didn’t, he had a nice little stack of fiction novels to pass the night with.

 Ed slept.

[adventureswithten]

Can I have one where the reader needs an injection because of an alien sickness or the alien atmosphere does something to humans. However, the reader is terrified, absolutely terrified, of needles and the doctor has to chase/talk her down so she'll get it. Sorry if it's an annoying request

I really like this request. A lot. I'm not sure why. So I am going to try as usual to give my best. Tell me what you think. -----------------------------------------------------It was bound to catch up with you eventually, you were after all, human. All that travel, the foreign substances and alien bacteria. You were sure to eventually fall ill. You ignored the niggling worry in the back of your mind that something was off. You didn't want him to know you were sick. Because while he was called The Doctor, you weren't sure you wanted him fussing over you. And prior to meeting the brown haired, suit clad Galifreyan you had an affinity for avoiding doctors at all costs. Standing before the royal court of a planet over grown with otherworldly flowers and creatures unknown you felt the clammy sweat come over you again. It had been coming in waves since you exited the TARDIS doors but they were coming quicker and in heavier effect over the passing minutes. The Doctor had yet to have noticed, excitedly discussing the rich plant life and its molecular properties and benefits to the strange inhabitants here. He was speaking quickly, black thick framed glasses on his nose as he studied the different flora and mumbled to himself in wonder and awe. He was wonderful when he was being clever and working things out in his brilliant mind. At last he turned to you with that white toothy smile that made you weak in the knees usually, but since you were beginning to feel inhumanly weak you merely attempted to grin back. And in a split second his long dark blue suit clad legs brought him to wear you stood and his long fingered hands were braced on your biceps. His thick brows furrowed as he studied you and then placed a hand on your forehead. His lips mashed together in a grimace as he noted your condition. "You're not well, are you? You're burning up. Humans can't have high fevers. We've got to get you fixed up." He answered, turning from you and rubbing his hands together. The blue, glowing Queen stood from her perch and gestured to a vine archway to her left. "Take her there. We can begin treatment." She answered in an ethereal sing song voice. You were grateful and gave her a polite nod in thanks. The Doctor then pulled out his sonic from his pocket and ran it over your face and neck, the buzzing and blue light comforting. Surely, whatever was ailing you was an easy fix. "________, go rest for a moment. I'm going to pop into the TARDIS. See if she's got some sort of immunity or tonic for you." He said, his warm brown eyes searching yours, the concern and ache still in his ancient brown eyes. It made you feel worst that he's realized you were unwell. You'd hoped maybe he wouldn't and you could be back in the ship before whatever was wrong took further toll or did too much damage. Clearly, it was too late. Turning to the Queen he said, "Don't treat her with your potions. I fear they might worsen her condition. If you have it, give her a saline solution. It should keep her hydrated until I find the right trick." He told the Queen and she nodded regally. You pressed your hand against his blue jacket and were beginning to tell him thank you when suddenly, everything became foggy. You felt like your stomach was burning and your skin was ferociously hot, as if it were burning in the sun although the Court was dark and moist like a rainforest. Pain shot through your temples and your cried out not of your own volition. He turned and your fingers tugged hard on the material of the blue coat. Then all at once, your fingers let go and you were falling. The pain and pressure in your head and stomach were increasing and you thought to yourself, 'this is it. This is how I die. Oh but it was well worth it'."_________!!" Your name was a broken cry on his firm voice as you slid downwards and his long arms encased you. You were out but in a jerky panic he brushed the hair from your forehead and he fingered the soft spot under your jaw to check your pulse. Mouth set in a firm line he knew the TARDIS infirmary would have the best medicine. He also knew it was a good distance from the Court at the center of the dense lush forest. He didn't want to chance carrying you that far and lose you. No. He couldn't even wrap his mind around the idea. Without a word you floated from his arms and into a bed of wildflowers where the Queen would watch over you. The Doctor took off at a run, his red converse carrying him across the wet muddy ground, branches and vines catching his cheek and suit now and again. The pain was finally gone and you were sleeping soundly and comfortably, saline solution pumping into the mist and absorbing into your skin. But it wasn't enough. The TARDIS had just the right treatment for you, a shot with an antihistamine and rehydration solution combined with an agent to immune you to the heavy elements generated in the photosynthesis of the plants. Bearing the capped shot in one hand, he strode purposefully back to the Court, an ache in jos chest and a fear in his hearts he'd not wished to acknowledge. He couldn't lose another one, not someone else because he was selfish and didn't think how alien elements might affect the human nervous system. When you felt wakefulness seeping back into your conscious, you still felt as if you'd been run over by a large truck, backed over and then like it had spun its tires on you when pulling off for good measure. With a groan you opened your eyes and saw the spikes brown hair, perfectly chiseled face and worried dark brown eyes of the Doctor. Everything was fuzzy and god did everything hurt but here he was, coming to rescue you. And in that moment you mustered a small smile. His returning one reached his eyes where they crinkled at the corners because it was a fantastic feeling to have you look at him like you were his saving grace. With ease he pulled the cap from the syringe and in your fevered state you instantly panicked. No. Not that, anything but a shot. The needle glimmered in the evening light and your heart began to race, your fever pitching. Lips trembling you tried to form words, tried to tell him no. When you realized it wasn't working, nothing was, you flung all of your weight from the flower bed. "________, no. Don't do that. It's just-" the Doctor said but you couldn't stay so with what little bit of life you had in you, you ran. A part of you knew you were acting crazy because a fever will do that to a person and every bit of inner strength in your body was fighting off the poison from the atmosphere but beyond reason you looked behind you and kept running ahead, with no direction. You just needed somewhere dark and quiet, somewhere he could never find you. It would hurt, it always did. His hands would be too hard, the liquid would burn you and you'd cry and cry and he'd see and tell you get over it. The face of the handsome Doctor in the blue suit was blurring with the mean gruff man that had been your Doctor as a child and your legs continued to shake as you ran on with new vigor. It felt like regenerating, like the sun was still trapped inside burning his two hearts so hot he thought he'd explode from the pain. You'd never looked at him that way, had never feared him or made him feel like a monster, until this very moment. It had frozen him for a moment, as he relived the trembling of your sweet lips and the pale gray terror coloring your skin. He could practically feel you shaking still, to his core. It hurt, but he knew if he didn't go after you, if he let this forest or its creatures claim your life that pain would be far more than he could bear. Tongue between his teeth and steely resolve in those eyes that told stories with feeling better than any author of any age, he set off to track his beloved companion. The Doctor found you unconscious again underneath a tree and though it broke him to see you so lifeless and still, it also gave him calm. You'd be much easier to treat if you weren't all there. As if you were a wild lioness that might stir he crept to where you lay and snuck close to you. He eased down and pressed a kiss to your temple at the exact moment the needle broke your skin's surface at your wrist. He pulled back and waited, but you didn't wake up. Although he'd nearly choked on the idea of you arising and cursing his name for touching you with your worst fear, he'd have greatly preferred that to your lifeless form on the wet ground. He was quiet and serious, no emotion filled his voice as he stiffly carried you, past the Queen of the forest planet and to the TARDIS. Laying you in the infirmary bed he paced and bit the pad of his thumb, one hand in his pocket. Then he walked out, entering the center of the control room and fumbling with the knobs to appear busy. He didn't want to be there when you awoke. You were alive and well for the first time in, well, you really weren't sure how long. You stretched languidly and stood up wiping your face and running your fingers down your hair. Feeling icky from fevered sweets you changed clothes and showered in the powder room the space ship magically provided. Then you sought out your friend, your favorite person in all of time and space, the Doctor. You supposed he was meant to be difficult to find, that perhaps he was hiding from you. But the TARDIS you supposed really liked you because you stumbled upon his library after a corridor shortened to make it the only doorway at the end. You found it dark inside and he was standing beside a table, single lamp lit with his glasses on. A part of you felt like he probably wasn't reading whatever lay in front of those very sad brown eyes. When he looked up at you, the pained expression he wore was enough to stop your stride, but you didn't let it. You carried on and when you were close enough you wrapped your arms around his long thin torso. "Thank you." You whispered and he looked down at you in surprise, take aback and unable to return your embrace just yet."You want to go home, then?" He asked solemnly and you jumped away from him in surprise."What? No. No of course not." You answered and he tugged his left ear shyly. "I'm afraid of needles you daft alien man! Not you. You're not the big bad you once were. You're the Doctor. And you bloody well acted like it when I needed you most. I'm so thankful. And embarrassed." You told him firmly, arms crossed over your chest and heated gaze in your eyes. Finally, after a long pause, he smiled again, that brilliant perfect smile that squinted those dark brown eyes and you could see the light returning in them. He reached for you, pulling you by your forearm and tucking you close to his chest, his hand brushing through your hair. "You're amazing, __________. Absolutely brilliant." He whispered softly, holding you tighter with his twin heartbeats filling your ears.