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faofinn · 2 years ago

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4. Hiding an Illness

It was the first week of winter term, which meant exams were looming and Finn wasn't looking forward to it in the slightest. The week he'd had off had been spent with his head in his textbooks, drowning in mock A-level exams, and wishing he was literally anywhere else. Jess had helped, where she could, but law and medicine didn't really mix, and they were often left to study in silence.

He was sure that the headache that had refused to budge was just tiredness, but the worry about his lack of sleep bringing about another seizure only made it hurt more. The cough, too, was just because he'd not had enough to drink that morning, every morning, that was all. He wasn't getting ill. He didn't have time for it.

Jess noticed it, of course she did, but Finn was stubborn and there was only so much she could actually do. They sat together at lunch, in the rare times they had a spare period off together, her fingers running through his hair. It gave him a reprieve for a few minutes, some relaxation between what felt like the weight of the world on his shoulders.

It was just normal for Fred and Sheila to worry about Finn, and the occasional cough and sniffle were just that - occasional. Finn was old enough to tell them when he wasn't well, he knew his limits, as much as he tried to push them.

There was nothing they could do other than worry and keep an eye on Finn from a distance, and hope he’d see sense in the end. Jess kept an eye on him, and that made them feel a bit better about things. She was sensible, she’d make sure he didn’t do anything too stupid. They just hoped he could rest over the break, though they knew it would be difficult. With his mocks looming, he spent more and more time holed up in his room studying.

The end of term grew closer, and Sheila sent Finn off to school for his last day, dropping him at the gates despite his protests. She fussed over him, definitely not well but too stubborn to admit it, and told him to call her whenever if he needed to come home.

They’d made it through most of the day, but Finn was looking worse and worse by the time they got to final assembly. As head boy and head girl, both him and Jess were required to sit at the front, and Jess nudged her boyfriend. “Are you sure you’re okay?” She asked quietly, aware of the deputy head’s gaze on them.

He dragged his fingers across his collarbone. "I'll be better once this assembly is over. My throat is killing me."

“You should go home.”

"I might after this assembly." He gave a one armed shrug. "The head wanted a meeting with me."

“It’s the last day, not like you’ll miss anything.” She whispered.

He took a beat to reply. "I need to finish the assembly."

“Are you going to be able to do the speech?” She asked, glancing at the head.

"Why wouldn't I?"

“You just said you had a sore throat.”

"Everyone gets colds over the winter."

“I know.” She said, but couldn’t say anymore after a stern glare from the head, glancing down at her lap. She reached across to squeeze Finn’s hand, though.

He laced his fingers with hers, ignoring the shake to his own.

She frowned at his shaky hand, but didn’t say anything else. She couldn’t, she was going to get told off as it was for talking. She kept an eye on Finn as the teachers droned on, trying desperately to look interested, given the whole school could see them.

The assembly seemed to both take forever and no time at all, and Finn wasn't sure it wasn't due to absences. He felt alright enough to at least try, holding onto the fact he should be able to feel an aura if he was going to have one. The head turned to the pair of them, inviting them up to speak to the rest of the students as they had done in all the main assemblies prior. Blood raced in his ears as he stood, and he swore to himself for not keeping his legs moving as he'd been sat.

Jess stuck close to him, aware of the way he wobbled slightly as he stood. She’d agreed to speak first, as she always did, to give Finn a chance to catch up. She finished her bit, grinning at the rest of the school, and then nudged Finn to start his bit.

He took longer than he'd normally would to start, his attention seemingly drawn elsewhere. The silence was deafening as he came back to it, a blush spreading across his already red cheeks. He quickly caught up and carried on, his enthusiasm making everyone forget about it. He was vaguely aware he'd had a few more, the slightly uncomfortable stares from the audience a red flag. As he always did, he stretched a hand out towards Jess, searching for comfort and guidance. He linked their little fingers together, made a small joke to ease the tension, and tried again.

The absences weren’t unheard of for Finn, especially when he wasn’t feeling well or was tired, and Jess knew full well that he was both. The school were used to it too, it often happening during speeches or in class. Normally Finn could recover it, but Jess started to get concerned as it went on and they were more apparent. One or two was one thing, but the amount he’d just had in quick succession was a big warning sign. As he took her hand, their pinkies linked, she knew he wasn’t coping well. She glanced over at him as he tried again, but it wasn’t long before he was hit with another absence, and then a myo that tugged at his shoulder, and she knew a grand mal wasn’t far behind. She cleared her throat.

“Sorry, we’re gonna have to go.” She said, resting her other hand on Finn’s arm. “Come on.”

"Have a good Christmas break, everyone, make sure to rest and take time for yourselves too." Finn gave the kids in front of him a warm smile, letting Jessica move him away.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas everyone.” Jess murmured, and gently steered him away.

Finn's face fell as they left the assembly, his facade shattering, his stomach flipping as he pulled her down to the floor. "Need to sit."

“Yeah, okay.” She said, pulling her jumper off over her head. “Here, you can lay down.”

He knew the drill all too well, an unfortunately well practised routine for barely a minute's warning. His throat was dry and scratchy, his head pounded, and each cough only made it worse. He fought unco-ordinatedly against Jess' hands trying to help, grumbling in frustration.

“I know, I know.” She said to him, trying to help despite him fighting back. He was stronger and bigger than her, but she knew he’d settle eventually. This was something they went through often, Jess regularly getting in trouble for a messed up uniform. Once Finn was laid down she could run her fingers through his hair, reassuring him the best she could before he went.

One of the support teachers finally appeared as Finn started seizing, their lack of experience showing in their panic. It was one of the many, many reasons Finn hated his seizures, despite his repeated attempts for education and familiarisation with members of the public and even the apparently trained teaching staff.

Totally unflappable, Jess didn’t care about the teacher’s panic. She sat quietly with Finn, a timer running on her phone, and glanced up as they arrived.

“Can you call his mum? He needs to go home.”

They pulled a face at her. "He needs an ambulance, not his mum."

“No, he has a care plan. He doesn’t need an ambulance right now.”

"This sort of thing needs an ambulance."

“He’s an epileptic, he has a care plan. He doesn’t need an ambulance yet.”

"But he needs his mum?"

“Yeah, because he’s having a seizure and when he comes out of it he’ll need to go home.”

"Not hospital?"

“Not necessarily.” She grumbled.

Finn's seizure had begun to stop, and he let out a groan. He still didn't know where he was or what was going on, but let Jess push him onto his side.

She took to ignoring the teacher, glad Finn’s seizure had stopped before he’d needed midaz, well within the bounds of ‘normal’ for him. She helped him onto his side, squeezing his shoulder gently. “Hi, welcome back.” She said softly. “You had a seizure, you’re okay.”

Something in his blazer pocket was digging into his side, breaking through the haze. Blood coated his tongue, too, and he hated it, pulling away with a whine.

She stroked through his hair. “It’s okay.”

He spat as much as he could, trying to move away from it. It barely worked, and Jess' fingers in his hair quickly pulled his attention. He turned to face in her direction, squinting an eye open.

“I know it’s not nice.” She soothed. “But you’re okay.”

Finn had enough cognition to recognise he was at school, that the floor was uncomfortable under his side. He stretched out slightly, which did nothing to help, and so, with a grumble, forced his arms under him. He almost made it upright before he flopped (against his will) into Jess, resting his head in her lap.

She rubbed his arm, trying to help him to get comfortable. She finally looked over at the member of staff that had been with them. “Did you call his mum? Or do I need to?”

"I'll go call her."

“Thanks.”

It was a difficult phone call, the TA very much out of his depth and not able to answer Sheila's questions. Of course Finn had ended up seizing, she knew something had been wrong, and she hated herself for not pushing him harder to stay at home. She could tell the assistant wasn't the most helpful, so made sure to get him to promise to tell Jess she was on her way, emphasising that the sixth-former was in charge.

Jess was relieved Sheila was on her way, the TA having finally seen sense. Finn was taking a while to come around, as he often did, but he was safe and she could keep an eye on him.

Finn stretched out again, squinting up at Jess. "My arm's itchy."

“Itchy? You’re laying on the carpet.” Jess pointed out.

"It's itchy."

“It’s a shitty carpet.”

"Fix it?"

“Do you want to try and sit up?”

He thought about it. "Yeah, okay."

“Then you’ll be away from the itch.” Jess reasoned, offering him her hands.

It took a moment for both arms to comply, Finn giving a frustrated huff as they didn't immediately work. He pulled himself upright, leaning heavily against the wall to stop everything spinning. It was all still not quite right, the post-seizure haze still in full force.

“Better?”

"No." He sighed heavily.

Jess moved closer, kissing his cheek. “How about now?”

He grinned. "Yeah."

“Good.” She said. “Was only a little one, and your mum is coming to get you.”

"Oh. I'm going home?"

“Yeah, you’re going home.”

"With you?"

“With your mum.”

"And you?" He tried with a grin.

“Don’t know if they’ll let me.”

"Please?"

“We’ll talk to your mum.”

#sicktember 2023 #sicktember day 4 #hiding an illness #whump writing #whump prompt #fic #finn daniels #jess weston #the wolf and the ghost #oc #whump #seizure whump #whump of a minor #teenager #cold/flu #jess is queen honestly #we love her sm

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whump-n-comfort · 6 months ago

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helloooo my followers!

kinda late on this one, but in my defense, i'm knees-deep in a fandom fic that i wanna get out before my next semester starts

BUT i plan to use your requests as a palette cleanser if my brain gets stuck, so feel free to send in 1-3 of these at once and i will do my best to live up what you expect of me :D

have fun and have a happy new year!

sickness prompts send a prompt, get a drabble.

right as rain: [character] says they’re fine right before collapsing.

in plain sight: [character] does everything to hide their cold.

snoozeville: [character] falls asleep somewhere that isn’t their bed.

bed bargain: [character A] won’t stay in bed. [character B] convinces them.

please be okay: [character] isn’t feeling well, causing them to act differently.

conversationalist: [character] rambles in their sick state.

shut up: [character] doesn’t want any reminders about being sick while they recover.

so dramatic: [character] complains about their cold.

careful care: it’s hard for [character A] to accept help. [character B] knows which care methods are “acceptable”.

speechless: [character] can’t talk because of a sore throat.

dreamer: [character] talks in their sleep.

vacancy: [character] forgets where they are.

oh no: [character] gets sick at the worst possible moment.

by your side: [character] is sick and wants company.

whatever: [character] reluctantly accepts help.

health bar: [character] doesn’t get sick? think again!

moo: [character] isn’t very sick and milks it anyway.

double trouble: [character] is sick and injured.

manner minded: [character] remembers their good manners while sick.

all about me: [character] loves the attention they receive while sick.

error 404: [character] refuses to admit they’re sick.

got germs: [character A] and [character B] are sick.

play the part: [character] pretends to be sick.

but it’s true: [character] has been known to fake being sick, but this time they’re actually sick.

#whump prompt #requests are open #illness #hiding illness

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ccruelgods · 1 year ago

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strangedt thing that jappened in a nightmarewas actually a quote.imvactively repressinf the nightmareitself but there was an interactionbetween 2 characters on the dreamtv where one of yhemhad a mask covering their face and the other ripped it off. and itwent domething like "now that you know it was me all along, you can't kill me!!" and the other characterwent "no, now i just want to kill you even more!!" and someone outsideof dreamtv said something about how knowing the person hurting you or causing a lot of pain usually makes it harder to get rid of them and i think thats an interesting convept

#writing prompt #sorta #*.txt #anothehrquote from the same dreamtv was “the mask is off. the beast is gone”#though it wasn't audibly said idk how to explain it but #tying that into the other two quoteits the most coherent thing to ever come out of a nightmarethat #isnt inherently traumatizing #because #ill ramble properly yomorrow probably #but its lkke. anyone can hide behind a mask literal or figurative and create a horrifying terrible person who nobody wants to be around in-#-the least but the moment that mask is gone the persona “dies” with it. except it doesnt. the person under the mask is still the beast.#<- incoherent rambling

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ohisms · 3 months ago

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✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐀 𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 . ( a collection of mixed action prompts. adjust phrasing as desired. potentially mature content within. )

[ 1. ] sender steps between receiver and an aggressive stranger, voice low and steady: "walk. away."

[ 2. ] sender teaches receiver self-defense, hands firm on their hips as they adjust their stance.

[ 3. ] sender presses their forehead to receiver's, voice breaking as they murmur, "i don't know how to fix this, but i'm not leaving."

[ 4. ] sender shoves receiver out of the way of a projectile.

[ 5. ] sender combs their fingers through receiver's hair in the aftermath of a traumatic event, whispering words of comfort.

[ 6. ] sender whispers, “i’ve thought about this all day,” before pinning receiver against a wall for a searing kiss.

[ 7. ] sender wipes away the receiver’s falling tears with their thumb and whispers, “i’m here."

[ 8. ] sender patches up receiver's wounds, hands trembling as they whisper, "you can't keep doing this to me."

[ 9. ] sender shoves receiver into a hiding spot, hissing, "stay here or i’ll kill you myself."

[ 10. ] sender finds receiver drunk at a party, sighing. "let’s get you home."

[ 11. ] sender is discovered sleepwalking by receiver.

[ 12. ] sender steals receiver’s weapon and presses it to their own chest, daring: “go ahead. prove me right.”

[ 13. ] sender ‘accidentally’ flashes receiver while changing, purring, "see something you like?"

[ 14. ] sender whispers, "you’ll ruin me," before biting receiver’s lip hard enough to draw blood.

[ 15. ] sender takes over while receiver is giving themselves stitches, promising to handle it.

[ 16. ] sender frantically grips receiver by the shoulders, "don't you dare close your eyes."

[ 17. ] sender fixes receiver’s crooked [ tie / jewelry ], teasing, "nervous?"

[ 18. ] sender shakes receiver out of a nightmare, comforting them in the aftermath. "same nightmare again?"

[ 19. ] sender brings hot tea and medication to a [ hungover / ill ] receiver.

[ 20. ] sender invites receiver to dance with them, insisting, "what? this song's perfect."

[ 21. ] sender leaves a single rose on receiver’s windshield with a note: "you’re being followed. smile."

[ 22. ] sender pins receiver’s wrists during a sparring match, grinning, "yield."

[ 23. ] sender playfully steals something from receiver, initiating a chase. "come and get it, then."

[ 24. ] sender drapes a blanket over receiver, accidentally waking them. "sorry, go back to sleep."

[ 25. ] receiver returns home only to find sender already there. "finally."

[ 26. ] after a pleasant night out together, sender asks: "can i kiss you goodnight?"

[ 27. ] sender wipes the blood from receiver's face, murmuring, "let's get you cleaned up."

[ 28. ] sender shoves receiver against a vending machine to dodge security, breathless. "act natural."

[ 29. ] sender wakes receiver in the throes of a nightmare, reassuring them, "it's okay, it's not real."

[ 30. ] sender purposefully antagonizes receiver, hurling insults; "what are you gonna do about it?"

#inbox prompts #rp meme #rp inbox meme #rp prompts #ohisms

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ailithnight · 6 months ago

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DPxDC prompt #15

Demon Twins Fic

But!

Okay, so something I've seen floated a time or 2 from DC is that when using the Lazarus Pits to revive, a person emerges completely healed of all previous injuries or illnesses. Including scars.

Now obviously fandom often plays fast and loose with this rule, given how we like to give Jason an autopsy scar and some folks also like to make him keep the J from the Joker. But let's lean into it a bit here and make it play nice with the DP side of things.

Let's say that it's the ectoplasm, even the rancid stuff in the pits, that heals all scars except Death Scars.

So if Danny was, say, revived in the Pits by Talia before she disappeared him away to an orphanage in Illinois? The Danny that shows up in Amity Park wouldn't be covered in scars from his time in the League. He'd only have the one, the Death Scar.

Similarly, the Danny that stumbles out of the portal wouldn't have any scars from his time in Amity Park. He'd only have 2, the original Death Scar and the new Lichtenberg Death Scars.

Now I've seen it done many times where the Bats/Damian realize that Danny isn't a clone because you can't clone scars. So if Danny doesn't have those scars, and if his DNA is too messed up from the ectoplasm in him to check for any "regular cloning markers"...

Danny, fresh from an autopsy table, runs to Gotham to hide. And because of his inability to walk away from someone in danger, gets found by the Bats. Whether or not they know about Damian's twin beforehand, they are quite confident that Danny is a clone. An exceptionally good clone with nearly perfect implanted memories, but a clone nonetheless. Damian is particularly enraged about this

And poor Danny, already all sorts of fucked up from growing up Damian's lesser, then Dash's punching bag, then an experiment; in the face of Bat certainty and lacking any tangible evidence to the contrary; Danny starts to believe them.

#DPxDC prompt #DPxDC #DP x DC #DCxDP #DC x DP #Demon twins au #The horror of learning you are a clone #The horror of convincing someone they are a clone #The horror of doing this to someone who has already been primed by all their prior life experiences to think of themselves as lesser #And then the horror of eventually learning you were wrong #That they aren't a clone #After the damage is already done

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promptsforyourwhumpfic · 2 years ago

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Whump Prompt #1283

Whumptober #15: "I'm fine."

It depressed the whumpee how easy it was to lie, and how gullible everyone else was. Nevertheless, "I'm fine." was all they could say to avoid being sent to medical, and it was enough to keep the attention away from them and onto the mission at hand.

As time passes, however, they begin to wish someone would take notice...

#whumptober2023 #whump #writing #prompts #angst #hiding an injury #hiding an illness #injury #hidden injury

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n0phalt · 2 years ago

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just waffling about my day im being personal ignore me

dear diary (kinda public online space that 21 people have made the unfortunate choice of following but its not a direct person so interacting and being vulnerable does not activate my Instant Dissociation Response) today is a day . i am going to have a challenging conversation i fell asleep thinking about but im slowly figuring my life out :) minor inconveniences keep happening in adjusting to. honestly yeah it is a move. Adjusting To The Move . like i havent had sheets at all, just an old blanket and a mattress. and have run the dryer 6 times on my own blankets and it finally dried but my brothers friend was over so she got them instead so i have to restart the cycle. and none of the foods im used to are here. and i dont have as much privacy even tho it was minimal before (actually. lie. im less alone but i have more private spaces which means a lot more) and i miss my susan and scooby. and the first few days fucked up my carefully cultivated sleep schedule bc alarms went off from 3:30-5:30 and nobody else wakes up to them. but my grandpa may be coming home from the hospital this weekend! and i Feel like i cant draw anymore and i lost that part of myself but i think if i keep trying ill find it. and today if i can schedule it around visiting my grandpa and doing copious amounts of laundry . i will be able to call with a few of my friends and play games ive been excited for all week :-) i am happy this morning i think

#clearly im very unstable. i didnt know that at all. tjought ive been the most stable ive ever been #but thats fine and the world keeps turning and this too shall pass and i think im just gonna talk on here more bc it helps me. stay aware of #life if that makes sense. unfortunately a recent trauma(?) response i discovered that prompted the move was that. for as long as i can remem #ber. venting to someone immediately leads me to wanting to give them a happy ending. not even consciously. my brain blocks off the things #that were bothering me so i can crack jokes and feel like everythings fixed. but then it comes right back eventually #which. kinda sucks. but also to spare ppl how erratic i think ive always been around ventnh im just. shoving this out here #which SHOULD make me feel bad bc a core component of my ethos is to be impersonal in public and i really dont like seeing even tiny 'public #figures' being so brazen about their mental health and life in objectively public spaces #but i think this is the first step to healing and its still. tiny. this thing is still next to nothing. and ill certainly be hiding all the #'meat' of the info like so #at least going forwards #i do feel bad about the few times i certainly just threw open bad vibes on ppls tls #condolences #anyways

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fandom-happy · 2 years ago

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Sicktember 2023 - Day 4: Hiding an illness

Summary: Malcolm tries to keep his illness under wraps, but his body is not on board with this plan at all.

#my fic #prodigal son #malcolm bright #gil arroyo #Sick Malcolm #Prompt: hiding an illness #sicktember 2023 #sick fic #fever #hurt/comfort

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randompiecesofwriting · 1 month ago

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Coffee Snob (Pt 2)

Summary: Follow up to Coffee Snob reader checks in on Robby a few days after the stitches incident to discover Robby’s fallen ill and is more than happy, despite what he says, to let her take care of him for a change

Pairing: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Robby’s sick just talk of a coughing fit and some sneezes tho

Author’s Note: When I wrote Coffee Snob I had zero plans to write a part two. Then I got the very first comment on that work asking me to please make one and I wrote this that same day. Moral of the story here is fanfic authors are fickle people who will buckle under the smallest amount of peer pressure so never be afraid to reach out and ask. Thank you so much who showed the first part so much love that makes me so unbelievably happy! I hope you like this one too!

Part 1 Here

With the way he had spiraled over your stitches in the ER you had expected Robby to be insufferable about your injury for the days to come.

As promised you had shown up at his place after work and he had happily redressed your arm for you, taking much too long in your opinion to check over the stitches once again before wrapping them up and grilling you about your dizziness, not taking any of your assurances that you were fine for an answer and only finally backing down when you had cheekily proposed sharing a beer on the roof. That finally earning yourself a glare and swift instruction to go rest.

So naturally you had expected to see him the next day, for more than just a coffee handoff that was, but after that morning it was nothing but radio silence from the man.

At first you figured he was just busy, didn’t think much of it when you fell asleep that night without hearing from him.

But then it happened again the next day. No stop by for coffee, no text to make sure you were doing okay, no offer to check over your stitches again.

That was how you found yourself at his door bright and early the following day, forcing your hand to knock on it before you could talk yourself out of it.

At first there was nothing, you waiting long enough to prompt another set of knocks before you heard it, a raspy cough coming from inside the apartment. “Robby you in there?”

Still nothing but a pitiful attempt to stifle the next round of coughs, that alone was enough to push you to try desperate measures “Look I don’t mean to bother you but there’s this pus coming out of my stitches and it kinda smells”

The door was being ripped open before you could even finish the sentence.

You barely had time to take in the old blanket thrown over his shoulders or the deep purple bags under his eyes before he was grabbing at your arm, fingers already reaching to undo the wrappings as he spoke “you said it smelled?”

You ripped your arm back from his grasp, a disbelieving huff escaping you as you glared up at him “oh so you are home”

“Yes look” he barely gave the comment any thought, reaching again for your arm with a sigh “you could have an infection just let me-“

“Robby I’m fine” you cut him off, pulling your arm out of his reach and angling your head to properly catch his eyeline “I just wanted to see if you would actually answer the door”

He glared back at you, crossing his arms over his chest “so you lied to me”

“Oh that’s real rich coming from the man who was hiding in his apartment from me” You shot back with a raise of your brows, Robby at least having the decency to look sheepish from beneath your gaze “you’ve been avoiding me, what’s going on?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you” he countered with a shake of his head, stating the words as if they were obvious “and I’m-“ he suddenly cut himself off, chest heaving dramatically twice before a loud sneeze tore through him effectively putting an end to the sentence.

You raised a brow at that “you want to try that again? Or are we just going to pretend it never happened”

“It’s nothing” he fought back stubbornly “just a-“ and again he was cut off as he quickly pivoted away from you and tucked his mouth into the crook of his elbow, a series of coughs escaping him harshly.

Almost seeming hesitant Robby slowly dropped his arm and pivoted back around to face you slowly, once the coughing had subsided, a dramatic eye roll and sigh escaping him as he caught sight of your wolfish grin “no”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say”

“but I know what that smile means and I want nothing to do with it”

You stared him down with a smirk, Robby meeting your gaze unabashedly though you both knew who would win this waiting game, you just had to wait for-

Another sneeze tore through him, a defeated groan running through Robby once he had recovered.

“Michael Robinavitch are you sick?”

“I don’t get sick” the glare he sent back at you was more a challenge than anything, as if daring you to call him on it.

One you were more than happy to meet “oh so this is just what? Rapid onset allergies?”

“I will pay you to no longer have to be a part of this conversation”

“Oh come onnn” you whined at him petulantly, leaning against his doorframe, making it abundantly clear you weren’t going anywhere “it’s my turn to play doctor”

“You know what they say about doctors making the worst patients”

“They also say I’d make the worst doctor so that just makes us the perfect pair”

Again he just glared at you, arms tightening around his chest as he did so “are we done with this yet? Can I go nap?”

You grinned back at that, holding up a single finger “Hold on real quick I have to decide just how insufferable I want to be about this”

With a loud groan he was turning back to his apartment, making a show of grabbing the door to shut you out, but there was an unmistakable upwards tick of his mouth that told you he wasn’t quite as annoyed as he pretended to be. You took that as an invitation to push your way further into his place “Come on sickie I’ll make you some soup”

The heels of his palms came up to dig harshly into his eyes as he shambled further into the apartment “I don’t-“ he was interrupted by another coughing fit, having little choice but to drag himself over to his couch and collapse on the pillows “fine. You’re lucky I like your cooking”

“I’d say you’re lucky you like my cooking” you shot back with a wink, strolling over to his kitchen and opening the fridge letting a snort slip out of you at the sight “scratch that you’re lucky I stock my fridge like an adult. I’ll be right back”

You got little more than a hum out of the man in question as he sunk deeper into his couch, blanket wrapped tight around himself as his whole body relaxed on the spot making you smile.

Running upstairs to grab everything you needed you slipped back into his place without knocking, glad to see that he had fallen asleep.

Figuring you could take your time with it you started with your own homemade stock you kept in the back of your fridge, heating that up and taking your time to cut the vegetables.

By the time you dropped the noodles in about an hour had passed and you figured it was time to wake Robby up and give him some meds.

Spooning out a portion into a bowl to start cooling you made your way over to the couch, hunching down to just above him and quietly calling out his name.

The man asleep on the couch, however, didn’t budge, not moving at all still when you put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small shake. With an amused chuckle you brought a hand up to his cheek, carting your fingers briefly through his beard before cupping it properly and giving his head a small shake, raising your voice just enough to catch his attention “Robby”

He jolted awake beneath your touch, eyes snapping open quickly as he took in a deep breath before snapping shut once again as he winced at the brightness of the room making you giggle. “Sorry about that”

He only hummed in response, the sound coming from deep within his chest as he pried one eye open to look up at you, a hand coming up to rake his fingers through his beard before capturing your own before you could fully pull it back, threading his fingers through your own before bringing the palm of your hand to his lips and pressing a quick kiss to the heel of it, discarding the hand in the next step fluidly as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You desperately willed yourself to be normal about that as you leaned back slightly to give him room to sit up, Robby seeming to not even had noticed what he had done as he stretched and took in the room around him “what’s going on?”

“Made you food” you were praying to anyone who would listen that he wouldn’t notice just how hoarse your voice suddenly sounded “also wanted to check on you how’re you feeling” you avoided his gaze as you brought a hand up to his forehead, feeling the skin with the back of it as you assessed him.

The silence between the two of you stretched just a bit too long for it to be normal before you were pulling your hand back and looking down at Robby, finding the man’s gaze already on you intently, a soft, lopsided smile on his lips.

“Robby?”

The sound of his name seemed to snap him out of his trance, a slow dramatic blink taking over him as he shook his head slightly, his body physically going through a reset as he processed your question “Good. Yeah. Good. I’m good.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that “well that’s good” you teased him earning you a soft scoff “feels like your temperature’s gone down a little bit”

“Real scientific method of measurement you got going there”

“Are you trying to be difficult or does it just come naturally to you?”

He started to laugh at the jab, the sound catching in his throat and sending him into another coughing fit that had you frowning.

“When was the last time you took meds?”

He shook his head in response mumbling out a “didn’t” as he relaxed back against the couch and closed his eyes again.

“Doctors” you grumbled with a roll of your eyes, giving his leg beside you a pat as you stood up “we’re absolutely going to change that but first you should eat”

You grabbed the bowl you had let cool for a bit off the counter and a spoon and placed it on the coffee table in front of him.

“You made soup?”

“I made soup” you repeated with no small amount of amusement as you sat next to him on the couch, grabbing the remote off the arm of the chair in the process.

“With the stuff in my fridge?”

“With the stuff in my fridge” you corrected him with a snort, turning on the tv and scrolling through the options “I’m good but I’m not that good”

Shaking his head he picked up the bowl and brought the spoon to his lips, taking a first bite and barely getting it down his throat before he was practically melting on the spot.

“That good?” You asked with a grin, Robby barely sparing you a glance before took another bite.

“Did you make these noodles?” He asked in disbelief around the food.

You shrugged in response “figured I’d let you sleep for a bit while I did it”

He paused at that, as if that weren’t the answer he was expecting as his eyes cut from the bowl up to you “You really handmade the noodles in this soup”

“You were out for like an hour”

“You put handmade noodles in a soup you made for a person who is sick”

“I put handmade noodles in a soup I made for you” You corrected automatically giving his side a small nudge, immediately trying to downplay just how much the moment meant to you “if it means anything the stock I used is from scratch too but I definitely didn’t do that today”

He stared back at you dumbfoundedly, looking back down at the bowl before him as if it had personally offended him “I feel like I should save this for when I’m healthy”

“What” you laughed at the absurdity of it “don’t be ridiculous I made that soup for you now”

“But this is good soup. Restaurant quality soup. And I can barely breathe through my nose” he protested weakly.

“I’m a restaurant quality chef” you pointed out “you literally only let me come in here because I offered to make you soup”

“I thought you would throw some dried noodles into a can of broth not this”

“Robby I live right down the hall” you pointed out with a laugh “I make a stock from the veggie scraps in my freezer like once a month I can make you soup at any time”

Still looking skeptical he finally relented, slowly picking back up the bowl and bringing another spoonful to his mouth, practically moaning around it as he took another bite “fuck that’s good”

Snorting you turned your gaze back to the TV with a wide grin and a shake of your head, mumbling under your breath just loud enough for him to hear “can of broth. The fuck you think this is amateur hour?”

Robby can’t remember the last time he had woken up this comfortable.

It was as if someone had gone through his body and carefully tended to each knot in his muscles one by one. All the tension in him had melted away until he felt closer to an amorphous blob than human person. And he had to admit a large part of it was absolutely to do with the fingers dragging slow patterns back and forth through his hair, nails just barely scratching at his scalp.

Rather than like his last nap he rose to consciousness slowly this time, soft blinks allowing his eyes to naturally acclimate to the light in the room, none of this properly preparing his brain to fully process exactly what position he was about to find himself in.

His head had to be in your lap. That was the only logical conclusion he could come to with the way your upper body loomed over him, one elbow perched on the back of the couch with a book in hand, the other hand tucked back threading itself through his hair as if it were natural.

And for a second he could do nothing but watch. Watch as your eyes flew back and forth over the words on the page, your attention fully captured by whatever was happening within the novel, the patterns on his scalp only pausing briefly to allow you to turn the page and continue reading. Watch the way the soft light of what had to be sunset filtered beautifully through your hair from the window across the room.

For a brief moment he considered just closing his eyes once more. Feigning sleep for just a little longer. Letting himself bask in a rare moment of tranquility.

Instead his eyes caught familiar white gauze as your arm lifted to turn the page and the words were tumbling out of him before he could think better of it “How’s your arm?”

And maybe he should’ve made some sort of comment earlier to warn you of his consciousness, but it wasn’t something that had occurred to him until you were shrieking in surprise, his head snapping up at an awkward angle as your whole body jumped with it, the book dangling from your fingers falling as you released it suddenly, the spine of the hardcover book hitting Robby squarely in the nose.

He shot up on the spot, hand coming quickly to hold his nose as the book tumbled unceremoniously to the floor. And it honestly didn’t hurt too badly, the surprise of it all getting to him more than anything, but to see the wide-eyed look of guilt you shot him as both your hands came up to cover your gaping mouth. That almost made it all worth it “we gotta work on your bedside manner”

The quip seemed to snap you out of it, hands dropping from your mouth as you immediately leaned closer to him, desperate to get a good look at the damage as you swore “fuck Robby I am so sorry”

And you were just so close all of a sudden, perfume permeating the air around him, the distance allowing him to fixate on every fleck of color in your eyes, that it had his brain short circuiting, suddenly unable to form coherent sentences, something you clearly didn’t take as a good sign.

You were up before he could stop you, running across the apartment and returning with a bag of frozen peas he honestly didn’t even know he owned. “Of course the only vegetables you own are of the freezer variety”

Still he took the bag from you and pressed them to his face slowly, more to humor you than out of any need of it “You come into my home, insult my food, break my nose-“

“Shit did I really break it?” And again you were so close, a hand on his forearm to brace yourself as you leaned in and Robby was struck by the heat of the touch, by the subtle weight of your hand, by the smoothness of your skin, his next words coming out just a touch too late.

“No I’m fine” You shot him a skeptical look, Robby making a show of peeling away the bag of peas to reveal his perfectly intact nose “Really there was no harm done”

Though the words still didn’t seem to fully placate you it did have you backing down, releasing his arm from your grip and sitting back properly on the couch with a groan that had him chuckling softly, more than happy to realize the incessant need to cough didn’t arise from it. “What time is it?”

“Oh it’s-“ You cut yourself off as you searched around briefly for your phone, the question almost seeming to catch you off guard “4:30…meaning I have fifteen minutes before I need to leave for the restaurant” the words sounded almost bitter in your tone making him smile softly “will you be okay if I head out?”

“Yeah I’ll be good” he assured you quietly, enjoying the way you fussed over him “May even have all my extremities still intact if you leave now”

You rolled your eyes dramatically at the jab, running a tired hand over your eyes “Don’t make me start apologizing again cause I’ll do it”

He held up his hands in mock surrender at the threat, unable to keep the smile face as he did so “Really I feel a lot better. Go to work”

You narrowed your eyes at him, gaze skimming over him studying him, assessing him, before nodding reluctantly “okay let me just pack up the soup on the stove”

“I got it” he cut you off easily, more than happy to learn he’d have leftovers of your soup in his fridge “go”

Another skeptical look, another silent standoff, before you were conceding with a sigh and pushing yourself to your feet. “You took a Tylenol four hours ago so you’re due any time for another one. I’ll know if you don’t take one”

“Yes ma’am” he conceded with a grin, watching as you shuffled to his door and slipped on your shoes.

“Also drink more water you haven’t had any today”

“I will”

“I brought some saltines too they’re on the counter you should probably put something solid in your stomach”

“Y/N” he halted your rambling with a chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest as he talked “I am a doctor, I know how this whole thing works”

“Oh cause that was going so well for you when I got here” you rolled your eyes but nonetheless relented, putting your hand on the handle of his door, getting ready to leave, before turning back to him one more time “just…take care of yourself yeah?”

“I will” he promised softly, following you out the door, letting you get a few steps down the hallway before he was calling out to you “Y/N. Thank you”

You spun around to face him at your name, giving him a fond smile as you continued to walk backwards “Anytime Michael”

And god did he love the way his name sounded when you said it. The soft intimacy of it, the playful lit you put on it, the way it felt so natural, so light.

Grinning to himself as he let the door shut behind him, he faced his now empty apartment, the space suddenly feeling a lot smaller, a lot quieter, a lot lonelier.

Spotting your book forgotten on the floor he wandered over to pick it up off the ground, noting it wasn’t one of his, you must have brought it back from yours while he was asleep. Making a mental note to return it later he placed it on the coffee table in front of the couch next to a bookmark he also didn’t recognize and a hair tie that certainly didn’t belong to this apartment. Also placed precariously on the table was a mug that was his own, a thin layer of tea still at the bottom of it along with a tea strainer he didn’t recognize no doubt containing tea leaves whose tin wasn’t native to his cabinets.

Over the course of the day the table had become a mismatched pile of yours and his things within his apartment.

Robby found he rather liked the look of it.

Part 3

#dr. robby x reader #dr robby x reader #dr. michael robinavitch #michael robinavitch x reader #dr. michael “robby” robinavitch x reader #robby x reader #dr. robby x you #the pitt x reader #the pitt x you #the pitt fanfiction #doctor robby x reader #doctor robby x you #x reader #reader insert #fanfic #michael robinavitch #dr. robby #dr. robby imagine #dr robby imagine

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mephisto-reporting · 8 months ago

Text

A Tender Respite

About: He needs to be cared for and you are more than willing to take care of him. But how would he react to it? Pairing: Reader x Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus (Seperate) Note: Reader and the men are not in a relationship. But there is an implied mutual attraction between them My inbox is open for prompts and requests :) Content warning: mentions of injuries, blood, illnesses.

ZAYNE

As you walked with Zayne through the dimly lit garage, the air was thick with a mix of hospital antiseptic and the warmth of a long-awaited checkup. His calm demeanor had always been a source of comfort. Today, however, that tranquility shattered as a wanderer materialized from a swirling metaflux, its presence disorienting and threatening.

In a split second, Zayne pushed you aside, his body taking the brunt of the impact as he shielded a family of children who had wandered too close. You quickly jumped into the fight, disposing of the wanderer, as a skilled hunter would. The sound of a scuffle echoed in the enclosed space, followed by the sharp hiss of energy. You barely registered the chaos before everything fell silent.

When you finally gathered your bearings, Zayne was on the floor, grimacing in pain, cuts and bruises marring his skin. A deep gash ran across his forearm, blood trickling down and pooling at his wrist, and a bruise blossomed near his temple, dark and angry. Panic surged through you as you rushed to his side.

“Zayne! We need to get you to the hospital!” you urged, as you examined his injuries.

“No!” he replied, his voice steady despite the evident pain etched across his features. “Just… take me home. I can handle this.”

You shook your head, stubbornness flaring. “You’re not fine, Zayne. You need medical attention.”

“I’m not going back to that hospital!” he replied, equally stubborn but barely hiding the pain. With no other option, you helped him into your vehicle, his breathing labored as you drove him to his apartment.

When you finally pulled up, you helped him inside, gently guiding him to the couch. “Just sit,” you insisted, searching for his first aid kit. He attempted to protest, but you were already rummaging through the drawers, refusing to let him downplay his injuries.

“Really, it’s nothing—” he started, but you shot him a look that made him falter.

“Zayne, you’re a doctor. You know better than anyone that you need to take care of yourself.”

With a resigned nod, he settled back against the cushions, watching as you gathered supplies. You meticulously cleaned his wounds, your fingers trembling slightly as you worked. The antiseptic stung, and he winced slightly, but your focus didn’t waver. You had to take his shirt off to clean and disinfect wounds on his arm. He winced as you cleaned the gash on his forehead, your hands brushing against his skin, and he caught your gaze. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—a longing, a softness that sent your heart racing. You quickly looked away, focusing on the task at hand.

“Just a little more to the left,” he instructed, his voice low and steady, though there was a tension lingering in the air. As you followed his instructions, you caught the way his gaze softened, an intensity in his expression that made your heart race.

“See? Not so bad, right?” you said, attempting to lighten the mood. Zayne chuckled softly, but the sound held a deeper resonance.

“You’re going to need to take a couple of days off work. No arguments.” you added, trying to keep your voice steady.

Zayne chuckled softly, despite the pain. “You’re rather stubborn, you know…” he teased, but there was warmth in his tone that made your cheeks heat.

“I’m just looking out for you,” you said, applying a fresh bandage. “Besides, you saved those kids. You deserve a break.”

As you finished, he reached out, his fingers gently brushing your wrist. “Thank you,” he said, his voice soft and earnest. “I don’t need you to care for me especially after an exhausting day as a hunter.”

“You do,” you insisted, your heart fluttering as you looked into his eyes. “More than you know.”

After you wrapped up his injuries, you insisted on making him food. He watched you from the couch, a quiet admiration in his gaze. You filled a kettle with water and set it on the stove for tea, stealing glances at him over your shoulder. Each time your eyes met, the air thickened with unspoken tension, a longing that danced just out of reach.

“Are you hungry?” you asked, stirring a pot of soup.

“Just… being here is enough,” he replied, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. “But if you insist, I’d love some of your famous soup.”

As you set a steaming bowl in front of him, you poured tea and placed the painkillers beside it. “Here. You need to take these,” you said, watching as he took a sip of the tea, a hint of relief washing over his features.

“Thank you, for taking care of me... I feel bad that you have to...”

Before he could finish, you interrupted, your mind racing in blissful ignorance of his unspoken confession. “It’s just what friends do, Zayne.” you said with a bright smile, unaware of the way his gaze softened even further. “Plus, you have always been there for me, caring for me in ways more than one. ”

As he ate, you settled next to him on the couch, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You chatted easily, but the undercurrent of tension lingered. Zayne’s hand brushed against yours, and the contact sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re not just my friend,” he said quietly, looking at you as if weighing his words carefully. The moment hung heavy, the air thick with words left unspoken. Instead, he took a sip of tea, his gaze softening even further. “I lo- ahem….appreciate you. More than you know.”

You smiled, oblivious to the confession that nearly slipped from his lips. “Just focus on healing. I’ll be here for you.” you assured, stealing another glance at his injuries. “Just promise me you’ll rest and take care of yourself, for me.”

“For you…I will promise anything you want me to.”

XAVIER

The night air hung thick with tension as you and Xavier maneuvered through the dimly lit streets, the flickering neon lights casting eerie shadows on the cracked pavement. The Hunters Association had assigned you to clear out a particularly troublesome area infested with Wanderers. As always, Xavier maintained his calm demeanor, his focus unwavering despite the palpable danger surrounding you.

You fought side by side, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you dispatched the menacing figures that loomed in the darkness. Xavier was a skilled partner, his movements precise and almost graceful, but during the fray, one particularly nasty Wanderer caught him off guard. You saw it in an instant—a swift strike that sent him stumbling back, a look of mild surprise gracing his otherwise stoic face.

“Xavier!” you shouted, but the battle was frenetic, and you couldn’t spare a moment to check on him. You pushed forward, a surge of determination fueling your every action until the last Wanderer fell, the night finally falling silent.

As you made your way back to the apartment complex you both called home, a creeping worry gnawed at your insides. You had fought fiercely, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

It wasn’t until you stepped into the elevator that you noticed it—a faint stain blooming on the sleeve of Xavier's shirt, dark against the fabric. “Xavier, you are hurt!” you asked, your voice laced with concern as you stepped closer.

He looked down, his neutral expression barely shifting as he shrugged. “It’s nothing,” he replied, but the faintness in his voice told another story. The elevator chimed, and you instinctively reached for his arm, tugging him towards your apartment.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” you insisted, not waiting for his reluctant agreement. He followed, fatigue evident in his steps, but you could tell he was trying to hide the pain.

Once inside, you guided him to the small bathroom, your heart pounding in your chest. “You need to sit down,” you said, gently urging him onto the edge of the bathtub. As you assessed his injuries, the sight made your stomach turn—a jagged cut on his forearm, bruises beginning to darken beneath his skin, and a small gash on his side that was still oozing blood.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you scolded gently, though your voice trembled with worry. He offered a sleepy smile, an endearing expression that made your heart flutter.

“Didn’t want to worry you,” he murmured, his tone a mix of sincerity and drowsiness.

You shook your head, grabbing the first aid kit and working quickly to clean his wounds. As you dabbed antiseptic on the cut, he flinched slightly, but his gaze remained locked on you, a warmth radiating from his usually neutral expression. The air was thick with tension, the proximity drawing you closer together as you worked. The way he looked at you, with that soft heat in his eyes, made your breath catch.

“Xavier…” you began, but he interrupted, his voice low and slightly slurred.

“You’re too kind,” he mumbled, leaning slightly into your touch as you bandaged his arm. “I—”

“Just stay still and rest.” you urged, focused on the task. “I’ll feel better knowing you’re patched up.”

His eyes fluttered, and he leaned back against the cool tile, clearly exhausted. “You make it hard to rest when you’re so close…” he murmured, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Maybe you should stop being so dramatic,” you teased lightly, though your heart raced at his words. “You’re just tired.”

“Not dramatic… just…” He closed his eyes for a moment, his breathing evening out. “You make everything better.”

You felt your cheeks heat at the confession, but he was already drifting, his head dipping as he struggled to stay awake. “Xavier,” you nudged gently, concern lacing your voice. “You need to stay with me.”

He blinked, struggling against the pull of sleep. “I know… just want to be here… with you,” he mumbled, words slurring together.

You bit your lip, a mix of emotions swelling in your chest. “You can rest on my bed,” you suggested, already guiding him gently towards the bedroom. Xavier’s expression shifted slightly as he let you guide him. He didn’t argue, too exhausted to resist, and he settled onto the bed, his body sinking into the soft comfort. He looked so pale and vulnerable, and your heart ached at the sight. You took a moment to admire him—his features relaxed, the way his hair fell slightly over his eyes, giving him an almost ethereal look.

“Stay with me,” he said sleepily, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Of course,” you replied softly, sitting on the edge of the bed, the tension crackling in the air between you. “I’ll be right here.”

As he closed his eyes, a soft smile graced his lips, and you couldn’t help but reach out, brushing a lock of hair away from his face. “You really need to take better care of yourself, Xavier,” you chided gently, your fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

“Mmm… you take care of me,” he mumbled, his breath evening out. “I’m grateful… more than you know…”

His voice trailed off, and you watched as he succumbed to sleep, the softness of his expression stealing your breath. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was on the brink of confessing something deeper, but as you leaned back, your heart swelled with warmth and affection for the boy who had captured your attention.

Xavier stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open for a moment. “You’re still here,” he said, his voice a low rasp, filled with sleepiness and an undercurrent of something deeper.

“Of course,” you replied softly, a smile playing on your lips. “I wouldn’t leave you alone like this.”

“Good... I like it when you’re here,” he mumbled, his words heavy with the weight of his drowsiness, as he settled back into the pillows, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly.

“Just get some sleep, Xavier,” you said, brushing your fingers along his arm in a comforting gesture. “You need it.”

“Thank you. ”

“I’ll always be here for you, Xavier. ”

SYLUS

The N109 Zone was bustling with its usual chaos, but something felt off today. You had been out on a mission with Sylus, but he wasn’t himself. His usual commanding presence had faded, replaced by a weariness that settled deep in his bones. The usual gleam in his eyes was dulled, and his voice came out raspy, each word struggling to find its way through a thick fog of fatigue.

“Sylus,” you began, your concern bubbling up. “What’s going on? You don’t look well.”

He started to respond, his expression twisting into something like annoyance mixed with exhaustion, but before he could say anything, you reached out instinctively, placing a palm against his forehead. Your breath caught as you felt the heat radiating from him. He was burning up. You had seen Sylus heal from injuries in the blink of an eye, his body almost otherworldly in its resilience. You had never considered that he could fall sick.

“Sylus, you’re burning up!” You didn’t wait for his protests. You quickly grabbed his arm and tugged him toward your bike. He stumbled slightly but didn’t resist, a clear sign of how unwell he was feeling.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he rasped, but there was no fire behind his words. He seemed more like a wounded animal than the powerful figure you were used to.

As you drove toward the Onychinus base, you could feel the tension in the air, thick with concern. Sylus leaned against you, his presence warm and heavy, and you felt a swell of protectiveness surge through you. You parked and guided him inside, taking him straight to his room. He collapsed onto the bed, and you wasted no time in removing his shoes and jacket, revealing the fine fabric of his shirt, clinging slightly to his skin.

“I’ll be right back,” you promised, moving quickly to gather supplies. But as you turned to leave, a sudden force held you back. You looked down to see Sylus using his Evol to grasp your wrist.

“Careful now,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice despite his fatigue. “If you’ve imprisoned me to the bed, you should at least guard your prisoner.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. “You’re insufferable, Sylus. Just rest!”

“Stay…” His voice was soft, almost as if he was pleading. “Ask Luke and Kieran to get whatever you want to torture me with.”

As you called out to Luke and Kieran for help, you felt your heart racing—not just from worry, but from the strange thrill of being so close to him, sharing this moment of vulnerability. They returned quickly with washcloths, cool water, some medicines, and a light meal. You settled back by his side, ready to care for him.

First, you soaked one of the washcloths in cool water, wringing it out before gently placing it against his forehead. He sighed softly at the touch, a breathy noise that stirred something deep within you. You could see the tension in his shoulders release just a little as you wiped the cool fabric across his skin.

“You’re too soft, you know,” he teased lightly, even as his voice cracked. “Are you sure you’re not just trying to make me your captive forever?”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth creeping up your cheeks betrayed you. “Just hold still, you stubborn man.”

The second washcloth found its way to his neck and chest, gently wiping away the sweat that clung to his skin. His breath hitched at your touch, a mix of softness and teasing glinting in his dull eyes. “If you keep touching me like that, I might get the wrong idea, Sweetie.”

You scolded him, “You’re lucky I’m doing this at all. Just try to relax, would you?”

“You know,” he murmured, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes, “if you wanted to see me without my shirt, you could’ve just asked.”

“Oh, shut it,” you laughed, but your heart raced as you continued to care for him, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you both like a blanket.

Once you felt you had brought his temperature down a little, you shifted to the light meal. You filled a bowl with soup, bringing a spoonful of it to his lips. “Here, eat this. You need your strength.”

“Quite the hero, aren’t you?” His tone was playful, yet the weariness in his eyes held a vulnerability that made your heart ache. “How am I supposed to recover when my captor is so distracting?”

“Just focus on getting better,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Or do you need more than just soup to heal?”

He chuckled softly, a sound that was low and inviting. “I could think of a few things…”

You tried to ignore the way your heart raced at his words, quickly serving him the soup. You brought the spoon to his lips again, wiping away a bit that dribbled onto his chin. As your fingers brushed against his lips, he pressed a soft kiss against your fingers, and your breath hitched.

In a brief lull, he leaned closer, his eyes heavy with sleep. “You know, if you keep taking care of me like this, I might start to think you actually care, Kitten…” he murmured, his gaze searching yours.

“I care about you not dying.” you replied, but the playful banter hung thick in the air. Just as he was about to say something more, Mephisto’s cawed from the corner, breaking the spell of the moment.

“Of course, he has to ruin the moment…” Sylus grumbled under his breath. With a frustrated sigh, Sylus fell back against the pillows, exhaustion pulling him under. But he reached out, grasping your hand tightly, as if afraid to let go. His eyes fluttered shut, a soft breath escaping his lips. You could feel his warmth seep into your skin, and your heart raced at the weight of his hand in yours.

“Stay,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, “you might just be my best guard.”

“Just rest,” you whispered, leaning closer, your heart full of unspoken feelings. “I’ll be right here.”

RAFAYEL

In the dim light of Rafayel's apartment, you stepped inside, immediately greeted by the mess that was his usual chaos—clothes scattered everywhere, art supplies on all over the floor, discarded wrappers from snacks he claimed he’d eat later, and an array of colorful plush toys piled in the corner, remnants of his last obsession with claw machines. You had come over expecting the usual antics, only to be taken aback by the sight of him.

The usually flamboyant and self-assured Rafayel was sprawled out on his couch, looking less like the charming rogue you knew and more like a wounded kitten. His vibrant blue-pink eyes were dimmed, and his usually immaculate hair was a messy halo around his head. Bruises marred his skin, and cuts adorned his arms and torso like unwelcome accessories. He had always been so dramatic about even the smallest of injuries, but this—this was different. He did not even call you or tell you that he was injured.

“Rafayel! What happened?” you exclaimed, rushing to his side.

He attempted a nonchalant shrug, but the wince that crossed his face betrayed him. “Oh, you know… just fought one of those monsters you love,” he said, trying to play it off with a dramatic flair. The corner of his lips quirked upward, but his bravado fell flat under your scrutinizing gaze.

You narrowed your eyes. Only he would be so dramatic about cats.

His smirk widened, but you could see the discomfort hidden behind his playful demeanor. You knew those injuries weren’t from any cat; they spoke of a far more serious confrontation. “Come on, spill it. I know you’re not getting beat up by a bunch of kittens.”

He looked away, feigning interest in the ceiling, and you let out a frustrated sigh. “Alright, if you’re not going to tell me, I’m going to help you anyway.”

Without waiting for his protest, you gathered supplies—a clean cloth, antiseptic, creams, and bandages.

As you began to clean his wounds, the atmosphere shifted. Your fingers grazed his skin gently, applying antiseptic to a particularly nasty cut on his arm. He flinched slightly at the sting, but his expression was one of mock indignation rather than pain. “You’re lucky I tolerate your hovering,” he teased, but his voice held a softness that revealed how much he appreciated your presence. “Careful there,” he quipped, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he watched you work. “That feels almost... intimate.”

“Right, because who else would pamper you like this?” you quipped back, focusing intently on his injuries to hide the warmth creeping into your cheeks.

“I can think of a few—” he began, his tone flirtatious as his blue-pink eyes sparkled with mischief. “But they wouldn’t be as gentle as you.”

You rolled your eyes, focusing on applying the antiseptic. “Oh, please. You’re being dramatic as usual. Just try to stay still, okay?”

“Staying still while you’re this close? That’s asking for a miracle,” he shot back, his voice breathy and playful. You couldn’t help but notice the way his lips curled into a teasing smile as you bandaged his arm.

With each careful swipe, your fingers brushed against his skin, and you could feel his pulse quicken. The air was thick with an unspoken tension, and every moment spent so close felt charged with something you both pretended not to acknowledge. He leaned into your touch, his bravado melting away, replaced by a softness that made your heart flutter.

“Is this necessary? I mean, really? I think I could manage just fine with a little kiss, Miss Bodyguard.” he quipped, a playful grin spreading across his face.

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a smile. “Maybe if you were more careful, you wouldn’t need any of this.” You gently pressed a bandage over the cut, and he feigned a pained sigh, leaning into your touch a bit too dramatically.

“Alright, all done. You should really rest now,” you said, glancing around at the chaos that was his living space. “And I’ll handle everything else.”

“Are you sure you can handle all of this?” he asked, his voice suddenly more serious, a hint of vulnerability shining through. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Please, I can handle your drama,” you replied, smirking. “Just try to rest, and I’ll clean this place up too.”

As you turned to gather the supplies, Rafayel pulled you back towards him with surprising strength, his gaze locking onto yours. “Hey… Not yet, don’t move from here…” he murmured, an intensity behind his words that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Just make sure I’m really alright. You’ve stirred something within me, you know.”

You felt your cheeks heat as you looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity. There was something about the way he spoke that hinted at more than just friendship. Just as it seemed he might confess, his gaze faltered, and the moment slipped away. “Rafayel... what...”

“Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to keep you here a bit longer from redesigning my place.” he added, a playful smirk returning to his lips as he attempted to deflect the moment with his typical charm.

You huffed, half annoyed and half flustered. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible? More like irreplacable.” he shot back, winking as you turned away to hide your blush.

You sighed, shaking your head as you picked up a few stray items around the room.

“I’ll just... rest my eyes for a moment,” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he finally succumbed to sleep.

The way he had said that stirred something inside you—a mixture of warmth and anticipation. But as you moved to leave, Rafayel’s voice stopped you again.

“Hey,” he said softly, and when you turned back to look at him, his expression was earnest, a flicker of something deeper visible in his eyes. “Promise you’ll be here to check on me later?” You could see the exhaustion tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Of course, I will.”

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated! If anyone wants to be on the taglist for my future stuff, let me know :D

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