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chasingpj · 3 years

Text

𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

“Buen provecho, mijo.”

pairing: leo valdez x gn reader

requested?: yes!

warnings: a little angsty, discussing the death of a parent

category: fluff, one-shot, a slice of life

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts forever. i'm so excited to finally have it posted and i hope you guys like it!

Leo’s shivering body is engulfed in a soft duvet until the crown of his head. His brown curls sprawled on the stark white cloth are the only evidence of his presence, the sheets swallowing his body so well that it appears to be stacked messily and not holding a groggy Leo.

Despite your protests of wrapping himself up like this, he couldn’t help it. The chills that came with his fever were too much to ignore, which says a lot; Leo’s rarely cold. You’d be able to keep him warm, he considers, and there’s a deep urge to hold your frame against him. With a weak groan, he shifts in the tunnel of sheets.

Stupid Flu.

The last thing he’d want is to get you sick. Having your shared bed all to himself for the past few days as he persists through the discomfort of illness has been lonely. At first, it was a little fun. Getting a break from your occasional kicks and shifts that would wake him up throughout the night was nice, but he began to miss it after a while. Those pesky sleepy habits were worth it as they came with the comfort of your presence, the sweet scent of your body, and the softness of your skin. He ached at the absence of your company even though you were literally in the next room over.

He wondered what you could be doing having that this ache for you isn’t a new occurrence. Just a few minutes ago, he had called your name only to receive a “one second!”

So he waited, and well, it’s been much longer than a second.

As if he summoned you with his thoughts, the creaking of the door hinges catches his attention, drawing a soft hum from Leo’s lips. Feeling too weak to lift his head, he instead tugs down the duvet just enough to reveal his puppy brown eyes that sag with fatigue. “Lee, I have a surprise for you.” The ringing sound of your sweet voice makes his mouth curl up in a smile. Leo furrows his eyebrows, eyes averting from your pretty face as he notices your hands are hiding behind your back. “What is it, cariño?” He croaks, flinching at the dull soreness in his muscles as he pulls himself up to rest against the headboard.

“Close your eyes,” you demand with a giddy tone, and Leo complies with a short laugh. “Don’t peek!” A clinging of metal follows the sounds of pattering footsteps and a giggle of excitement before he receives the okay to open his eyes again.

Through thick eyelashes, he's met with stretched-out arms, presenting a deep blue bowl of soup on your palms. “It’s Caldo de Pollo!” The nostalgic aroma hits his senses the moment you confess what it is. He leans in, getting a better view of chunks of potato, carrots, corn, and chicken that peek through an orange broth. The sight makes his mouth water, and to your surprise, his eyes too.

The dish reminded him so much of his mother. Suddenly, he was a kid again. His small eyes watch Esperanza place a bowl filled to the rim of the familiar dish on the table in front of him.

“Buen provecho, mijo.”

Leo grinned, revealing the gaps of teeth that haven’t grown in yet. "Gracias Mama," he chimed, swinging his stubby legs in his chair. For a second, there is a look of caution across his mother’s face as Leo picks up his spoon and shovels the soup into his mouth. But as it becomes clear that neither the hot liquid nor the sweltering heat of the day bothered him, she relaxes and settles in the chair across from him.

His mother’s eyes filled with adoration, a soft giggle comes from her lips as Leo, too hungry to care, has dampened his shirt in the midst of eating. In his memory, the image of her is hazy, but he can make out the rosy tint on her lips as she smiles at him, her long nose, her silky hair that's usually pulled up in a ponytail, cascading over her shoulders.

The memory is more vivid than any of his dreams. He could make out the glow of the setting sun from the curtains. Under his forearms, he could feel the stickiness of the plastic cover over the table cloth. Every detail of his childhood home was exactly where he remembered it.

One of Leo’s biggest fears is that one day he’d forget his mother’s face, her voice, the little memories he had of her. Already, day by day, the recalling of his mother’s comforting scent becomes weaker. Sometimes, he’d get a whiff of it when he’s on a quest or when he’s alone. He’d like to think that those moments meant that his mother was watching over him, that she truly wasn’t all gone.

Though this soup, the one you’ve presented in your arms, confirmed that the remaining pieces of her existence didn’t solely live in his memory but in everything. She lives in the stars that she was always so fond of. She lives in the Tejano music she used to sing along to when she worked or cleaned. She lived in the running engine of everything he’d ever created. She lives in this soup, the same soup she made him when he was sick or often, to his dismay, in the middle of the summer.

He never needed a moment to freeze in time to remember all that was his mother.

Leo’s eyes glisten with tears. The silence, the bleakness of his expression, made you look down at the soup yourself. You didn’t think your soup looked bad at all, especially not bad enough to bring Leo near tears. You even plated it nicely, garnishing the soup with cilantro and a lime wedge.

"Is it wrong? Bad? I had to look up the recipe, and I-"

"No, no. It's just- it reminds me of my mom." He smiles sadly at you, and you frown, taking a seat beside him on the bed. His expression softens, eyes studying your face. What did he do to get so lucky? "You made this for me?"

You nod. "I thought I should make you soup since you're feeling so sick today." You balance the bottom of the bowl in one hand as the other reaches over, pressing the backside against his forehead. A tsk leaves your lips; the heat radiating off of Leo's forehead was much warmer than usual. "I was looking at soup recipes, and I came across a recipe for Caldo de Pollo. Try it; I think you'll like it!"

Leo reaches over with weak hands, grasping the bowl of soup before bringing it to his chest. He leans in to take in the aromas.

“I didn’t poison it,” you joke. A watery laugh comes from Leo, the vibrations sending a few tears down his cheeks. Your stomach flutters at the sound, but your heart aches at the sight of his tears. You hated seeing him cry. Your thumbs gently wipe away the stray tears on his face as he admires you. “I don’t know. I’ve seen you burn a lot of things in the past couple of years,” he teases. You cross your arms over your chest, not having enough times when you didn’t burn any food to defend yourself so you wave him off.

“Whatever,” you huff playfully. Leo chuckles as he brings the spoon full of broth up to his lips, and you shift in your place. You’re filled with anticipation, hoping that the recipe was authentic enough. “How is it?”

The flavors of the soup are almost the same as his mother’s, and he hums, a soft sigh of satisfaction leaves his lips.

“It’s amazing, mi amor.” The pet name you love rolls off his tongue slow and smooth. You sit up proudly at the praise, taking in Leo’s lovestruck expression. Before you know it, the other leans in for a kiss, and you scrunch your face. A scoff of playful offense leaves Leo’s lips.

“Why would you kiss me?” Leo whines with a cute pout. As much as you want to kiss him, you knew you shouldn't. “You’re sick,” you remind him, and he dramatically sits back against the wall, playing with his spoon.

“Kiss me, and then we can be sick together.” Leo wiggles his eyebrows, trying to convince you with a smile that drops the moment you shake your head.

“No way. Keep your cooties to yourself.” To your surprise, Leo sticks his tongue out at you. The action makes you snort as you rise from the bed. “I won’t kiss you, but I’ll sit and eat with you.” Leo shrugs, the solution is not as satisfying as a kiss, but he’ll settle with spending time with you. With a nod from him, he watches as you disappear past the doorway to get your bowl of soup.

In your absence, he takes a few more sips, the memory of his mother flickering in his mind. There’s a familiar gloominess that lingers at the fact that he will never be able to hug his mom or see her face again but being aware that her presence will always remain brings a sense of closure that Leo didn’t know he needed.

In his darkest hours, there was always a glimmer of hope that kept him moving forward. There was always a feeling that things would get better in time. This dull light, the voice that told him to pick himself back up, perhaps, it was his mother being true to her namesake all along.

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

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A Darcy Day Off

As promised, I present ~6,800 words of a sick, miserable Fitz/willi/am Dar/cy. I’ve been working on this on and off for an embarrassingly long time so I’m glad to finally clear it out of my WIP folder to make room for new things. But honestly, it was a pleasure to write, and I hope some of you take pleasure in reading it as well!

Definitely he first chapter, and honestly the first 2 chapters are mostly exposition, so if you want to skip straight to the sickfic goodness and reduce the word count, head to chapter 3. But I had fun writing (and worked hard on) the banter and conversation in the beginning, so I opted to keep it.

( @chezsnez @empresskaze @groundcontrol21 you all asked so nicely, so I hope this is what you were looking for! )

“Darcy, dear, what’s keeping you? I thought we were to meet in the library for tea,” Elizabeth called. She found him still in his study, hunched over the desk. She danced to his side, planting a kiss atop his head. He leaned against her briefly in greeting.

“I’m sorry, my dear. I had more business to attend to today than I’d realized. Just finishing up now.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly, then his nose, trying to be rid of a tickle that had been infuriating him all day.

“Always at your work. I wonder our estate isn’t the finest run in Britain. And here I used to think people of high class such as yourself worried for nothing but amusing themselves all day.” She gently rubbed his neck where she knew he always got an ache when he wrote. He kissed her hand fondly.

“You are of such a class, too, now, my love. And how do you know it isn’t the finest? I’d be willing to wager a year’s salary this estate could be measured against parliament’s own estates and be proven worthy, if I have anything to say about it.”

“You pour your very soul into all that goes on here, and it’s one of the many things I adore about you. I am proud every day to be the mistress of such an estate. Only I wish you wouldn’t work so hard and take more time to enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

“Are you accusing me of ignoring you, dearest? Only say the word and I would throw all my responsibilities to the winds and devote myself fully to your entertainment.”

He kept his tone light and playful, teasing her, but looked at her closely even as he did. Had he been neglecting her too much of late? He had had several pressing business matters on his mind these last weeks, and he knew he had been at his desk more than usual. Lizzie had not complained of course, and had been nothing but supportive and helpful, but the last thing he would ever want to do is make her doubt where his priorities lay, namely that she was foremost in his mind and heart, and in all things.

“Not at all, for you well know I’m quite fond of my own company. However, I can't help but worry about you. You put too much responsibility on yourself; you are positively careworn these days. I only wish your more lighthearted side could see the light of day now and again, and not just when we’re alone.”

“I am my truest self when I’m with you.” He kissed her hand again, then rubbed his nose. “I will always struggle being lighthearted while working. The two have never gone hand in hand in my experience; gravity and soberness were expected whilst doing business in my growing years under my father, and others. All the more reason I have need of your influence.”

She kissed his head again. “Very well, I accept the mantle of helping you find levity in your working hours. If only so that the strain you put on yourself will not affect your health. You put on a casual, careless demeanor in public, but I know better. You bear the weight of the world on those broad shoulders of yours, and that is a burden no man is meant to carry, even by his own choice. So come now, and join your wife for tea. The letters can wait another hour or so, surely.

“Indeed they can.” He stood and stretched stiffly. The chill winter wind howled outside and the sound made him shiver, glad for the roaring heat from the fire nearby, and in every room in the house as he moved to escort his wife to the library.

~~~~~~~~~~

The couple spent a pleasant hour or two in their favorite room in the house, chatting warmly at times, and sitting in comfortable silence at others. The relentless wind made Darcy feel sleepy and lazy, and he wanted nothing more than to take his wife’s advice and take the rest of the day to relax. He would have been content to remain here for the rest of the evening with his favorite person and simply read and chat and perhaps nap. But he had two more letters that needed to make the post tomorrow, and if he did not finish them now, he never would. He stood quietly and brushed his lips across his wife’s cheek. She nuzzled back, then watched as he lingered before the library fire longer than necessary, warming his hands and rear.

“Are you all right, my dear?” she asked.

“Oh, yes. I’ve developed a slight headache is all, and it makes the task of my remaining letters all the more daunting.”

“I can imagine. I wish you would take a day off sometime soon, so that you may rest for longer than a few hours at a stretch. I believe it would do you wonders. Winter is generally a time for peaceful contemplation, but it’s been a frenzy of activity for you these past months. You are overdue for some leisure, my love.”

“You are right, as usual. Sometime very soon, dearest, I will take a week or two off and we will spend all the leisurely hours together you could wish. Perhaps we’ll even have a romp outside in the snow. Within the next month, once this mess is more or less cleaned up. Would that suit you?”

“It would suit me very fine indeed. While you could never be accused of neglecting me, I have been missing my husband of late, most especially his smile. That has been the most absent part of you.”

“For that I am sorry. I don’t like to bring my business affairs into our life together. My lovely, patient wife. You are too good to me.

“Well and I could say the same of you, so there. Enough of that. Come kiss me again, then go to your work before you fall asleep standing up.”

“As you command.” He was truly in danger of this, as he felt his lids growing heavier all the time, so he forced himself to move away from the pleasant heat, going to her side and kissing her fully this time, savoring her sweet lips before reluctantly pulling away. “Away I go. See you soon, darling.”

Mr. Darcy could not rid himself of the clinging fatigue for the rest of the evening. His remaining letters took longer than usual, and he knew they were not as well done as they ought to be, but at least they were done. When they were finished, he tossed his pen aside eagerly and stretched his stiff neck. Perhaps he should take those leisure days sooner rather than later. He really hadn’t been feeling his best lately, and the wintery weather that had had them in its grasp for weeks certainly wasn’t helping. Also, he missed his wife, though he had just seen her. He missed spending time with her, and not just in stolen hours here and there.

Right now all he wanted was to curl up beside her in bed, and talk of sweet nothings, and perhaps make sweet love. Hopefully that would help shake this irritating headache. Yes, they were long overdue for quality time spent together. He would make arrangements for some time away immediately, hopefully as early as a fortnight from now. The thought immediately made him calmer as he finished up a few small things, then hurried to find her and begin the more pleasant part of the evening.

“Heh-KERRR-CHOOOOO! Heh- heh- KITSHHH’CHOOOO”

A bellowing sneeze startled Elizabeth from her book the next morning, and the even louder one that followed caused her to go investigate it’s source. To her surprise, following the sound of the miserable sniffles led to her husband’s study, where she found him ineffectually wiping his dripping nose with an already-damp handkerchief.

“My dear Mr. Darcy, is that you making all that racket? My heavens, bless you! I don’t know as I’ve ever heard a sneeze so resounding in all my life. Were you holding it in all morning for it to grow to such a volume?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he sniffled sourly. “It was merely a sneeze.”

She quirked an eyebrow, amused. “I would beg to argue. You sneeze particularly violently, my dear. Likely because, as I noted, you hold them in until you can’t anymore.”

“Well, since you are evidently the expert,” he muttered as he pressed on with his work, coughing softly.

She rarely saw this severe, prickly side of him these days, and this, more than anything else, concerned her and made her know he shouldn’t be teased at present. He really must be feeling poorly. She moved to his side and pressed against him as she had the day before, rubbing his shoulder. He did not respond, physically or otherwise.

“You are unwell, my love. You should go take some rest. You quite look as if you have gotten the wrong end of this cold of a sudden.”

“I am fine. Don’t worry yourself. I am only in need of some tea and I shall be quite well.”

“I’d be happy to fetch you tea, but I’d be happier to fetch it for you in bed, or at least in your chair in the library. I fear these large windows will do you no favors with the draft.”

“I have many things I need to see to today. I cannot take time to rest. And all my files are here in the study. I haven’t been ill since I was a boy. I’m certainly not going to be ill now.”

Lizzie sighed and shook her head at the foolishness of males. “Have it your way, then. I’ll see you get some tea. Was there anything else you’d like?”

“Just a scone or two. Thank you, dearest.” He finally turned his gaze to her, and she saw true gratitude there, despite the reddened, watery eyes and dripping nose. “And forgive my rudeness when you came in. You startled me, but I should not speak to you like that. Please forgive me.”

“Of course you’re forgiven, and I am sorry I startled you. You know I only worry about you because I love you.”

“As I love you, my Lizzie.” He coughed wetly into his handkerchief. “Now please, if you’d leave me. I really do have much to do, and you are ever my truest distraction. I will see you this evening. And please know, I am doing all this so that we can have our time together very soon.”

“Yes, my dear.” She sighed softly and made her way out, stopping one of the servants to request her husband’s tea and scones. She gave explicit instructions for the type of tea and what was to be in it, things to soothe an aching throat and ward off fever. If he wouldn’t have a care for his own body, she would be forced to do it for him. She only hoped he would see reason sooner than later and take himself off to bed before he caught his death in that drafty study.

~~~~~~~~~~

Of course, Darcy was endlessly studious and conscientious, not to mention stubborn, and so he stayed in his study, or was running around with different servants and community members all day. He did his best to conduct his business as excellently as ever, despite how very unwell he was beginning to feel.

When their paths would cross later in the day though, she could see he was flagging. His cough had become quite the nuisance, and his nose and lips were raw and chapped. Dark circles began to show under his eyes, vivid against sickly pallor. Every now and again, she heard a massive, wet sneeze disturb the air from wherever he was. She gave him sympathetic smiles and little encouragements whenever she could, but what she truly wanted was to see him to bed and tend to his every need there. The misery on his face made her ache for him. If only he wasn’t so proud. And yes, stubborn.

She was quite relieved when he joined her at their evening meal, wearily announcing he was done working for the day, and she told him such. He was quiet and withdrawn for the remainder of the evening, aside from his frequent sniffles and coughs, and the occasional explosive sneeze, which never failed to make her jump, even as they became more and more frequent.

Taking his lead, she also said very little, reading exhaustion in every line of his frame, especially as his sneezes and coughs harshened. If she had been another woman, and he another man (indeed, her parents came to mind), she would have said again that she wished he would take the day off tomorrow. But it was not in her to nag, and if she had he would only have become angry, or withdrawn completely. She had said her part this morning, and she knew he had heard her and remembered. What he did from here was his choice alone.

She watched him unobtrusively as he dozed by the fire that evening, feeling such love in her breast for her dedicated, hardworking husband, but no small amount of worry either. They had been married nearly three years, and she had never once seen him ill. She hoped it was truly only trifling, as he kept insisting it was whenever anyone asked.

They went to bed earlier than usual, her feigning equal tiredness for his sake, so he wouldn’t feel he was being a burden. But indeed, all she wanted of the rest of this day was to lie beside him in bed, perhaps rub his back, and just be near him for whatever he needed. To her delight, that is exactly what happened. He said very little, and asked for nothing, stifling sneezes now and again even as his frequent, chesty coughing fits worsened, but merely lay beside her and let her rub away at his aches and chills as he fell asleep.

Darcy and Eliza were both early risers, and both loved to greet the day while it was still fresh and full of promise. Being the man though, Mr. Darcy was always up and about before his wife, for it took him far less time to dress, and there were several things he liked to see to before breakfast, though he never neglected to kiss her goodbye as he left.

Imagine her surprise then, when the next morning found him still soundly asleep beside her when her maids came in to help her dress at their usual time. The sound of their arrival woke her, but her poor husband hardly stirred. She hurried out of bed, calming the poor, startled ladies in hushed tones, assuring them they had done no wrong. They helped her dress and fix her hair simply and comfortably before Elizabeth shooed them out again, saying she wasn’t sure what they should tell the other staff, as she had no idea what mind her husband would be in when he finally woke.

Lizzie sighed as they left. Now it would be all over the house that he was sick abed, and who knew what other irrepressible rumors. He would hate that. However, at present it was the truth so he would just have to deal with it whenever he woke. In the meantime, she picked up her book and read in the chair by the fire, wanting to be close when he woke.

That turned out to be shortly thereafter. He first began to toss and turn a bit, then he started to cough, then he nearly made her jump out of her chair with one of his tremendous sneezes.

“Heh -KER- CHUUUUHHF!” The noise was thick and miserable-sounding, more than hinting at painfully clogged sinuses and a raw, scratchy throat. While he was mopping the mess from his face with his handkerchief, his lungs decided to take their turn at clearing themselves as well, and he erupted into a series of wet, strenuous coughs.

She made her way to his side during this sad display, gently stroking his tousled hair as he quieted. He groaned softly when he was able and pressed into her embrace, still holding the handkerchief to his nose, eliciting a cluck of sympathy from his wife at his sorry state.

“My poor dear,” she murmured. “Your health is much worse this morning.”

“Mby head is like a lead weight od the pillow,” he croaked. “Fatigue weighs dowd mby limbs dreadfully.”

“Then you will not work today?”

“Mby wise wife advised that I look after mby body more, and today mby body tells mbe I must rest, so rest I shall,” he murmured sleepily. “As long as you’ll keeb mbe company?”

“I would love nothing more. This is perhaps not the leisurely day we had hoped for, but I’ll accept it just the same." She tenderly caressed his cheek, frowning as she felt it. "You are terribly feverish, darling." Yet she hardly needed to feel, for just by looking at his flushed, sweaty face and seeing him shake with chills, the fever made its presence known.

"And yet I'mb chilled to the bone. I had forgotten how beastly udpleasant it is to catch cold," he rasped with a thick sniffle.

"Indeed, it makes one feel for your poor sister all the more. It seems she is laid up with a cold every other week. Now, how does tea appeal to you? And perhaps some food? You hardly touched supper last night."

"Tea would be lovely. Mby abbetite still eludes me however. But, if only to please you, I would try sumb toast and an egg."

Lizzie had servants running for his requests in short order while Darcy tended to his nose, blowing it over and over, soaking through more than one handkerchief. His tray was delivered in record time. Seeing it arrive, Darcy slowly levered himself to a sitting position, pressing a hand to his temple.

"Mby head is throbbi'g," he mumbled.

Elizabeth pressed the cup of tea into his hands, looking sympathetic. "Drink some. It may help your head."

He did as he was bid, drawing his knees to his chest like a boy as he drank while she rubbed his back. However, another tremendous sneeze almost made him spill the whole thing.

“Ah- ah- KITCHSHOOOOO! Ugh…” He sought his handkerchief desperately, and when Elizabeth handed it to him, he pressed it harshly against his streaming nose to stem the flow, groaning as he did. Elizabeth hastily took the teacup from his again, for it seemed in danger of being upended at any moment.

"Bless you! My poor dear, what can I do for you? Besides keeping a stack of handkerchiefs here for your poor nose."

"I would ask you to help mbe dress in a few moments," he said, his voice muffled behind the fabric as he tried to rub away the headache between his eyes. "While I will be as quick as I cad, I must speak to mby steward and give hib sumb idstructions for mby absence."

"Can you not write him instead? I fear for you going out in the cold, lest this settles in your chest."

"Mby head aches too miserably to do a probber job with writing. I fear I would forget somethi'g crucial. Ndo, I'll quickly go dowd and speak to hib, and thed I'll return. Ndo going outside for mbe today, never fear."

She sighed and nodded, knowing he would not be dissuaded. "At least finish your tea and try some egg before you go so you don't collapse on the stairs."

"I'mb far from collapse mby dear, I assure you." His general appearance said otherwise though, as he had been miserably coughing into his handkerchief throughout the whole conversation, and had yet to stop shivering. However, she held her tongue and served him breakfast instead.

Lizzie saw he made an effort to eat as much as he could, and though it was only a few bites, she was slightly placated. She knew he would not relax until he had set what affairs he could in order. So, after his tea was gone, when he rose and began to dress, she assisted him, for she realized the sooner he left, the sooner he would return.

"I'd rather not ri'g for mby valet, as I'd be worried I would sdeeze on hib," muttered Darcy, looking embarrassed as she straightened his jacket while he futilely tried to blow his nose, which only served to make him cough yet again.

"It's no trouble at all, dear. Only please hurry back. I truly worry for that cough."

"I'll be back under your watchful eye as quick as I cad, dearest," he murmured, grazing her ear with his lips as she slipped an extra handkerchief in his pocket. With that, he was gone, his boots thumping down the hall wearily.

~~~~~~~~~~

Time dragged as she waited for him. While she knew he could take care of himself and she didn't need to be here the moment he returned, she also knew he would want her to be. Her husband was a strong man, but at times like these, he depended on her, and she was not about to disappoint him. So, while there were plenty of things she could have seen to around the manor herself, she waited in his sitting room with her needlework, keeping the fire high.

Finally she heard him in the hall. She rushed to open the door as he shuffled in, looking spent.

"Darcy dear! I expected you an hour ago!" she said, helping him shed his coat. Suddenly she felt his shoulders hitch under her hands as his breath scissored:

"Ktt-tsshhEEW!" The wet spraying sneeze was his response, only partially stifled by the sodden handkerchief he held. She blessed him worriedly as he again mopped his face.

"I'mb sorry, dearest," he finally managed. "I was stobbed many tibes between mby study and here to answer questions. I cabe as quick as I could."

He fell wearily into the chair nearest the fire with a deep groan and a deeper cough. He bent to try and remove his boots, but his efforts were hampered, as his nose streamed dreadfully if he bent over. He had to keep a hand pressed to his face as he tried to undo the fastenings with the other.

Elizabeth knelt in front of him and gently pushed his hands away, loosening and removing the boots herself as he leaned back in the chair, sniffling wetly.

"Thagk you, mby love," he croaked.

"Here, have some more tea, I've just had Mary bring some. There, now what suits you best? Shall we cover you warmly and sit here by the fire, or would you like me to fetch you some soup? I won't ask if you want to call for Dr. Bishop yet since I know what you'll say, though I have half a mind to."

"There's ndo need for the doctor," replied her husband. "Whad I most want right now is to lie dowd and sleeb sumb few hours yed. Mby mind is sluggish. I cad hardly grasp on a thought except how exhausted I amb."

"Then take my arm and let's get you to bed, poor man. I imagine some more sleep will do wonders for you."

"I don't need help walki'g mby dear, I'm not invalid, only full of cold." Even still, he took her proffered arm as he stood and rested a hand on her shoulder warmly as she led him to the bedroom.

"That may be, but I'll see you there myself just the same to make sure there's no distractions along the way." She kissed his hand and caressed it fondly as they made their way to the bed. She helped him remove all the clothes she had helped him don not long before and replace them with his nightshirt. While he clearly needed to sleep, he also seemed loath to let her out of his sight. He remained sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment with her pressed against his side. She scratched his back fondly.

“You should lie down, dear. You’re more asleep than awake.”

Instead, he wrapped his arms around her unexpectedly, burying his face in her abdomen with a weary sigh. Elizabeth was slightly startled, but gladly reciprocated the embrace, burying her face in his hair. Her husband was an affectionate man, but not usually physically so. This gesture from him, while not at all unwelcome, was unexpected.

“I feel terrible,” he groaned, barely audible, leaning most of his weight against her. “Mby body runs amok with mbe.”

“So it seems. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t wish this cold of yours on anyone.”

She held him for a few peaceful moments. Just as she was about to again suggest he lie down, for it seemed he was in danger of falling asleep against her, his back twitched violently and he tried to pull away.

“heh-GIHH’CHOOOO! Hehht-kk’CHOOOOOF!”

Neither had time to react as poor Mr. Darcy sneezed thickly, his face still pressed against his startled wife. She couldn't suppress a little gasp as he pulled away, stammering apologies and wiping his traitorous nose.

She was silent a moment appraising the state of her dress, then an unladylike snort of laughter escaped her, sending her into a little fit of giggles even as she comforted her overwrought husband, pressing him gently back against the pillows.

“It’s all right, my love. Such things happen. ‘Tis only a dress, and I have plenty more. It seems neither of us are coming away from this cold of yours unscathed. But there now, you’re completely spent. You can hardly keep your eyes open, red as they are. Take some more rest, my love.”

“You’re too good to mbe,” he croaked, fighting against his heavy eyelids but already nearly asleep, the handkerchief still in his limp hand on the bed.

She reached out, caressing his face and brushing hair from his brow. “No more of that. Close your eyes and sleep, for how else do you expect to get better?” She clucked her tongue softly again. “You really are painfully warm, poor man. It is most worrisome,” she said, more to herself than him.

“I’ll be alright,” he mumbled, the last word turning into a snore as he finally gave in to the needs of his body.

~~~~~~~~~~

That was to be the last interaction Mr. Darcy would remember for quite some time. He fell into a deep sleep then, and everything that happened over the next few days would be blurred flashes in his mind at best, hazed by illness and fever.

Of course, the same could not be said for Elizabeth. After he fell asleep, she left him and tended to some of her duties around the manor (after changing her gown, naturally). She did not want to hover in the sickroom, both for her sake and his, so she forced herself to stay away for several hours, knowing he would ring if he needed something.

Still, in the late afternoon she returned, unable to stay away any longer. He was exactly as she had left him, snoring softly. He didn’t seem to have moved at all in his sleep, which was most unlike him. She again went to feel his forehead, sensing something amiss. He was much warmer than before. A knot of worry pulsing in her heart, she tried to shake him awake. He opened his eyes and seemed to look at her, but she could tell he wasn’t truly awake, and didn’t respond when she spoke to him, only grunted and coughed, trying to roll over and sleep again.

Without further ado, she sent for Doctor Bishop, pacing the halls outside Darcy’s rooms until he arrived, wringing her hands in worry and opening the door to check on her husband every few minutes, to ensure he got no worse.

The doctor arrived quickly, heading right into the sickroom. He did a thorough examination, listening to Mr. Darcy’s heart and lungs, checking his pulse and 100 other things. Darcy woke briefly a few times, but only managed answers of a word or less before he dozed off again. His large frame looked somehow both bigger and smaller than it should, curled up limply on the bed, with only his breathing as evidence of life. After he was through, the wise doctor scrutinized his patient, deep in thought. Elizabeth remained silent, waiting with baited breath. Finally the doctor turned to her.

“You said he’s been overworking himself and run down lately, yes?”

“Yes, doctor. Business has been troubling him of late.”

“Hm. So it seems. Well, overall his vital signs are normal for a man with a cold. I see nothing overly alarming, excepting the high fever. That is a touch worrisome, but can at times be seen in such cases. No, I don’t fear any illness has befallen him except what you’ve said, a bad cold. I think he’s simply exhausted, and this cold has caught up with him and brought everything down at once. I’ll wager the fever will subside in a day or two, and the rest in the days after that as long as he gets the rest he sorely needs. I shan’t prescribe him anything except what he already has here with you, Mrs. Darcy. Let him sleep as much as he wants, keep him hydrated and don’t cover him too warmly, and I think this will run its course soon enough.”

It was as if great weight fell off her shoulders as he spoke. “Oh, thank you doctor! Indeed, I shall do just as you say, and make sure he does as well.”

“Please do. The stubbornness of the Darcys is well known to me, for my father and his father have been treating this family for generations. I’ll come round to see him every day until I’m satisfied he’s on the mend, if that suits you.”

“Oh, yes please, and thank you kindly. You have my deepest gratitude, sir.”

“My pleasure, madame. Until tomorrow.” He tipped his hat and was gone.

With a huge sigh of relief, Elizabeth collapsed on the chair at her husband’s bedside. After a moment, she found his hand under the quilt and held it, needing to feel his touch, even if in unconsciousness. After a moment, he unexpectedly squeezed it. She looked up to see his eyes were fluttering closed, but his face was angled toward her now. She took a moment to appreciate that fine face, though currently his nose, cheeks, and eyes were matching shades of red against the sickly pallor over the rest of him.

She sighed and softly kissed his hand. “Get well soon, my dear.”

He certainly took his time doing so, or so it seemed to Eliza. Either she or Georgiana were at his side at all times. He slept constantly, barely waking even to drink water. He spoke hardly at all and asked for nothing. He would intermittently shake with chills, or else sweat profusely. He sneezed in thick, messy fits, several at a time, but then would go hours between, until the sensation again overpowered and woke him. He coughed more often, since that it seemed he could do even as he slept.

Yes, he slept, but he was overall restless. Noise in the room roused him. He stirred when he was touched. He stirred when he coughed. He woke when he sneezed. His sleep didn’t seem peaceful, which was perhaps why he never fully woke, because he wasn’t fully resting.

The first night, Elizabeth slept in her own rarely-used bedroom (she much preferred sharing his), wanting him (and herself) to rest as much as possible. The second night though, she was achingly lonely, missing his touch, his voice, and his smile. So, she crawled into her usual place beside him in his bed, pressing herself against him. She found herself cold, as she had been since he was ill from the worry, so his warmth was more than pleasant.

She herself relaxed immediately as soon as she was against him, but more surprisingly, so did he. He didn’t wake and hardly stirred when he felt her, but his breathing quickly deepened and he relaxed more fully as they rested against each other. Basking in the sensation of enjoying one another’s touch, they both slept the whole night that way.

~~~~~~~~~~

More than 48 hours after he first fell asleep, Darcy finally woke up completely. Naturally, it was a sneeze that did it.

“Heh’gihh’CHUUUHFF! AHHGK-CHOOOF! … ow….”

Something in the tone made Lizzie turn. She had been sitting facing the fire with her needlework, but glancing at the bed, she saw her husband sitting up, one hand to his temple, the other wiping his nose, and looking aware of his surroundings for the first time in 2 days. She dashed to his side, feeling his forehead at once.

“Bless you, dear. My, but it’s good to see you awake! Oh, and your fever is much decreased, how wonderful! How do you feel? Is your head hurting you? Here, drink some water, the doctor said you’re likely dehydrated…”

She wanted to prattle on, but she saw he was a bit overwhelmed, so she forced her tongue to be still. She gently grasped his hands, to calm him as well as herself, and kissed them fondly. She then handed him a glass of water, and he drank gratefully as she looked him over. He seemed a bit better, but he continued to look around in a dazed way.”

“Have I been asleeb long?” he finally rasped, his voice totally gone, and still stuffed tight with congestion.

“I would say so. It’s been two days darling.” She did her best to keep the worry and accusation out of her voice. He couldn’t help that he’d been ill.”

“Two days?! Good heavens.” He fell back against the pillows with a groan and a cough. “Ndo wonder I feel so sluggish.”

“Yes, but it seems you needed it. The doctor has been out every day, and he says you were suffering from exhaustion. Your body was taking the rest it sorely needed.”

“So it seebs.” He rubbed his eyes wearily.

“How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Sumb better, I thingk,” he said with a wet sniffle. “Less fevered. I am still weary, and will sleep another night soundly through, but I hope I’m on the mend now.”

“As do I.” She kissed his hand again, squeezing it tightly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Mr. Darcy was indeed on the mend. He was moving about his rooms freely the next day, and 2 days after that, he was allowed by the doctor (and his wife, grudgingly) to resume his duties, though at a reduced basis, for his cough still lingered, along with some fatigue. Yet he was incredibly cheerful to be leaving his rooms, and everywhere he went, he had a spring in his step.

That same day he was freed found Elizabeth curled on the settee in her rarely-used personal sitting room, wrapped in a coverlet and trying to read. However, her dripping nose and throbbing headache prevented her from making much progress in the story.

A barking cough burst out of her against her will, making her drop her book. With a feeble groan, she reached down to retrieve it, holding a handkerchief to her streaming nose. She had known she likely wouldn’t escape catching her husband’s cold, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant. However, she was not about to spoil his first day of freedom with her own illness, so she was hiding here to avoid him as long as she could.

Just as she was thinking this, she heard his boots in the hall, and she suppressed another groan. He knocked softly, then peeked in the door, looking happy as well as confused when he saw her.

“Mary said I might find you here, but I thought she must be mistaken. Whatever are you doing? I was hoping to meet you for tea.”

She took a breath to answer, but instead the urge to sneeze snuck up on her. She shoved her elbow against her face, turning away from him to stifle the stubborn urge harshly:

“HXXT’GH! HNNKT! HXXTCH! Guh…” she mumbled at the end, which turned into a painful cough that she hardly had breath for.

Darcy was at her side in a moment, kneeling by her arm and feeling her forehead just as she had his so many times the past few days. Concern and regret crossed his face. “You have a fever, dearest. It seems I’ve shared my cold with you,” he said, stifling a little cough.

“You always were the gentleman, never failing to share with a lady,” she groused weakly.

His low chuckle was warm. “I’m truly sorry. Yet I heard you hardly left the bedchamber while I was ill, so I suppose it was inevitable.”

“Especially since you sneezed on me,” she mumbled, trying not to smile.

“Indeed,” he chuckled again. “I’m sorry for that as well. But now, enough talk. Rest your voice. Come up to bed and I’ll see you get some tea and toast.”

“Perhaps I don’t want to go to bed, did that occur to you? I’ve spent all week in that bedchamber and I’d prefer to not be forced to go back,” she muttered petulantly.

“I can tell you’re feeling unwell, for you’re never so irritable. That more than anything tells me I must see you to bed immediately.” His tone indicated some teasing, but mostly seriousness. Without further ado, he scooped her up in one motion and stood, carrying her toward their bedchamber, a little smile playing around his lips.

“Why you--! I’ve never been thus treated in my entire life. Put me down, you terrible man!” Yet she couldn’t keep from laughing, miserable though she was, which of course turned into a cough. She hadn’t felt so ill in a long time. In fact, the overwhelming urge to sneeze was coming over her again. She struggled weakly to free her arms from where he had them pinned, but it was too late:

“Hhh’rrrrushh’eeeew! Herrr’CHEW! Hihhh’knn’CHOOF!” She sneezed explosively against his chest, covering them both in the spray. His steps paused as he looked down at her, open-mouthed, while she stared back, reddening in embarrassment, but slightly triumphant.

“...bless you, my Lizzie,” Darcy finally said, an odd smile on his face.

“Thank you. I’m terribly sorry!... But what choice did I have, when I can’t move my arms? Now we’re even, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” he chuckled again as he resumed walking. “And I suppose if you must sneeze on someone, it’s best if it’s me, as I can’t very well catch this cold again. But all the more reason for me to see you to bed. You look a mess. In the loveliest possible way, of course.”

“How charming you are, Mr. Darcy. You have quite a way of flattering a woman.”

He chuckled again, but by this time they had reached his bedchamber. He deposited her on the bed with the utmost gentleness, and proceeded to assist her in changing into more comfortable clothes. She shivered miserably as she changed so that her teeth nearly chattered. Darcy tucked her in warmly and quickly rang for some tea, then began to remove his own boots and coat. She watched him curiously, though with heavy eyes, for she suddenly she found herself exhausted. With pleasure she realized he planned to join her in bed.

He did just that a few moments later, pulling her close against himself and wrapping her in his big, warm arms. She nuzzled in gratefully with a sniffle and a cough. He buried his face in her hair as they settled, coughing as well.

“What are you doing, Darcy dear? I thought you had many things to do today,” she mumbled, already nearing sleep. “You’ve had so many days off yourself. You needn’t take another for me, though it seems we’re quite a mess still.”

“This has become the most important thing I must do today,” he yawned. “You were a saint to look after me this whole week, so now I must return the favor. I’m not likely to let an opportunity pass to spend time with you after these past weeks, for I’ve learned my lesson. And I too am already weary, for this cold hasn’t quite left me. A nap would suit me fine, especially if I can warm you in the process.”

When a servant arrived with tea, no one greeted him, and when he opened the door with the tray, he found it best to simply leave it nearby and duck out again, for Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were fast asleep.

#sickfic #Sickness #sicknario #snzfic #snzblr #snzario #everyone is hotter with a fever #especially fitz/william dar/cy

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webcricket · 4 years

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Winter’s Eye

Pairing: AU!CastielXReader Word Count: 1143 (Ch. X) Story Summary: Season 13 canon tells you how AU!Castiel’s story ends, this is how it begins. The deranged and damaged iteration of Castiel we met in the apocalypse universe - an obedient soldier to Michael’s cause barely in control of his vessel’s frayed and erratically firing nerves whose inherent kindness toward humankind appeared entirely obliterated - wasn’t always an unfeeling angelic weapon of interrogation. Once, he sympathized with the plight of humans; one, he loved. Chapter Summary: Bliss is an island in the path of an oncoming storm.

Series Masterlist

Freezing air shrouds your arm creating a cascade of goose pimples across your brine-kissed flesh as you stretch out and search the empty expanse of still warm sheets crumpled in the space beside you.

“Cas?” you call out sleepily into the darkness of the cabin; a faint moonlit glow creeps in from the windows and provides your eyes enough contrast as they adjust to make out the form of the angel futzing with the stove to relight the neglected fire. Only in his absence from the bed, of his naked heat molded to your body between frictional interludes of fiery lovemaking, do you notice the encroaching cold.

Match held tight in his fingertips, he strikes the sulfuric tip upon the box; the concentrated set of his features flares bright. Cupping his hand to protect the match from extinguishing in the swift flick of his wrist, he tosses the spark into the cavernous kindling-stuffed gaping of iron.

Satisfied by the rapid upward leap of flames, he shuts the door and shifts the focus of his blues - ablaze in their own inner flame - to your beckoning figure.

“Come back to bed,” you simper; sitting up, you swaddle your shoulders and bare breasts in the blanket to shield yourself not from the intensity of his gaze, but from a stray draft that shivers up your spine even as his regard ignites your skin in a flush.

Unabashedly nude, thickly toned body impervious to the icy bite of the air, he stands - statuesque in solidity and intent - from where he crouches and casts a frowning look at the depleted stack of wood. “There isn’t enough to keep the fire burning through the night,” he murmurs his concern. There isn’t enough on account of you having spent the better part of the previous night and day and night again engaged in less practical more euphorically inclined expenditures of energy.

“We’ll manage.” Your low laugh does little to penetrate his emerging uneasiness over his pleasure-seeking disregard for your care. “Cas-” the breathy exhalation of his name garners his attention. Soft stretch of a smile denting your cheek, you lull his perpetual penchant for worrying with a reassurance- “the trees will wait ‘til morning. Cuddling with you is plenty warm.”

Swaggering nearer in his stripped glory, the gleam of his blues darken. “Just the cuddling?”

“You never tire, do you?” Reaching out, giggling, fingers encircling his wrist, you yank him under the tent of sheets and blanket and press yourself pliantly into his embrace.

“Of this? Definitely not.” Snuggling you to his torso, christening the top of your tousled hair with a smiling kiss, his stare drifts thoughtfully to the ceiling.

You watch him think, observe the glimmer of irises antic with life, and wait with baited breath for the tiny twitch of his upper lip that tells you he’s decided what it is he wants to say. So near, you can see where the sense of serenity you’ve shared softens some of the hardness of suffering etched into his aspect like tempest floods carving out canyons over a millennia revealing a resplendent rugged beauty in a spring sunrise.

“I find much awe in humanity,” he confesses, angling to look you in the eyes before he continues, his fingers hook your chin to tilt your lips near his, brushing them as he speaks. “I think what amazes me most is that humankind survived as long as they have with such pleasures as this available to them. You are remarkable-”

Cutting him off, an involuntary yawn unlooses itself from your lips; your nose crinkles in self-effacing apology.

He kisses the adorably scrunched protuberance and moves to rest his forehead against yours; amusement lightens his voice. “Remarkable … and tired.”

“Good tired,” you correct lest he think you’re tired of him. “Sore and sleepy is all.”

It hadn’t occurred to him his marathon exploration of the thus far limitless bounds of unbridled desire might hurt you. “I could soothe the soreness,” he offers.

“No, I like it,” you quickly decline, preferring the deep ache of spent muscles and blissful numbness of electrically expended nerves to the dull pain of apocalyptic normalcy. “It feels nice. Like echoes of you all over.”

He tenses. “You mean of this vessel’s touch.”

That shoots a pained spike of wakefulness through your brain. That’s not what you meant at all, although you can understand his confusion. Hell, it’s confusing to you as well moment to moment remembering he’s a wavelength of celestial intent crammed into a framework of someone else’s skeleton. You prop up on an elbow to peer into his eyes and place a palm over his heart. “No, I meant of the real you. The angelic being I can’t see. The one I can feel when I close my eyes.”

It seems to him with every breath you take, with every beat of your heart, and with every sensitivity of understanding you extend to him, you become more beautiful by the minute.

“Is he in there still?” you ask, curious now that the subject has arisen.

“Jimmy,” Cas supplies the name; sadness dims the shine of his eyes.

“Jimmy,” you mouth the name in a bare whisper.

“Jimmy Novak,” he repeats to complete the surname out of respect for what the man gave him and firmly believing he deserves at least that given how he ill-used him in his failed angelic exploits. “Yes, and no. He used to be there, in the background. I could feel his emotions. Feel how he suffered along with me. When I failed him, failed to keep his family safe as I had promised I would, he seemed to sink somewhere I could no longer hear him. And when I fell from Heaven, when Michael cast me down, I think Jimmy’s soul, whatever was left of him after all that pain and loss, after everything he saw and experienced under my power, I think he stayed there with them.”

“So it is just you.” You dart your fingers ticklishly down along the ridge of his ribcage, tuck your arm across his waist, and lay your head upon his chest. “Once, you were only a part of him, of this body, but now it’s a part of you. You consider it a vessel, separate from yourself, but it belongs to you now, Cas.”

“I suppose it does, yes.” He settles his hand across your arm and, stroking your skin, snugs you nearer. Silently, he nurtures the added hope, ‘And to you if you’ll have me.��

Gaze gliding in the dark to the silhouette of a sigil gilding the window as you slip into slumber, he mistakes a sudden rise of dread drying his throat and pilling the hair of his neck as the simple somatic reaction of his angelic nature to the warded warning against heavenly kind.

Castiel tag list: (Closed, if you’d like to be removed please let me know!) @jeepangel @sammiesamness @willowing-love @blueicevalkyrie @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @thesugargalaxy @bluetina-blog @honeybeetrash @bucky-thorin-winchester @superwholockz @tistai @wordstothewisereaders @gill-ons @mrswhozeewhatsis @marisayouass @stone-met @castiel-savvy18 @samualmortgrim @trexrambling @magnificent-mantle @xdifsx @mandilion76 @rockfairy @peaceloveancolor @unicorntrooper @anisolatedship @itsilvermorny @aditimukul @kudosia @goofynerd-67babylove @uninspirationalsonglyrics @gray-avidan @mishascupcake @mishapanicmeow @praisecastielamen @roseyhxnt @let-the-imaginationflow @fuschiarulerinthebluebox @coolpencilpie @jenabean75 @luciathewinchestergirl @morganas-pendragons @heyitscam99 @fangirl-and-stuff @selahbela @realgreglestrade @splendidcas @pointlesscasey @i-larb-spooderman @thewhiterabbit42 @thelostverse @castieliswatchingoverme @beccollie18 @dragonett8 @dixie-chick @jtownraindancer @carowinsthings @passionghost @ladyofletters67 @futureparent @gabbie7-11 @myfandomlife-blog @dreamerkim @shamelesslydean @earthtokace @neaeri @justanormalangel @lone-loba @supernaturalymarvel @lilrubixx @wings-and-halo @lilulo-12 @x-cassiopeia @thehoneybeecastielfollows @musiclovinchic93 @81mysteriouslyme @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jaylarkson @missjenniferb @jessiekay2010

#castiel x reader #au!castiel x reader #au!castiel fic #apocalypseversecastiel #castiel x you #castiel #castielxreader #castielxyou #cas x reader #cas x you #spn x reader #castiel fanfic #spn fanfic #cricket writes cas

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sapphicscholar · 5 years

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A/N: Wow it's been a hot second! Good news is that I've got a pretty full draft for the next chapter, so that should be up early next week. Heads up for some non-graphic content relating to illness and panic.

Chapter Preview

After a full month of Alex’s being gone, the loneliness started to get to Kara. Sure, she still had friends, though Sam had moved away over the summer, and Alex still called weekly and texted almost daily like she promised she would, but it wasn’t the same. She couldn’t throw popcorn into the mouth of a text message or crawl into bed with a phone call when she had a nightmare about Krypton or her years in the Phantom Zone. She didn’t want to make Alex feel guilty, though, so she kept quiet about it, telling Alex instead about the movies she saw with friends and the senior class trip to a water park that she was really looking forward to. And she plastered on the same happy smile for Eliza and for J’onn when he was over, chatting excitedly about her classes—it was the first time she’d gotten to pick electives, including one on journalism, so she really was happy about them.

Of course, neither Eliza nor J’onn missed the way her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, the times when she’d falter in the middle of a story that would once have included Alex, the moments of silence that ticked by before she answered certain questions.

So one crisp fall Saturday morning, a sleepy Kara was shepherded out to J’onn’s idling car with a promise to have fun and be safe that Kara didn’t quite understand until she and J’onn arrived at a dense forest far, far away from even small towns like Midvale. “I think it’s about time you got to test out some of those powers, don’t you?”

“Wait…” Kara bit down on her lower lip to keep her excitement in check in case it wasn’t what she thought it was. But she got to use her heat vision and freeze breath down in Eliza’s lab, at least under carefully controlled circumstances, and she’d learned how to use all of her senses without getting overwhelmed thanks to J’onn’s help. But flying…well, that one they hadn’t found a way to test, outside of some floating around the house that had more to do with keeping herself from tripping than really making sure she could still do the whole thing.

“I don’t know if I mentioned it to you before, but under a yellow sun, Martians can also fly.” J’onn felt his heart warm at the sight of tears shimmering in Kara’s eyes.

“You mean…you’re coming with me?”

“If you want to. Eliza and I checked and double-checked the area. We’re out of the way of any flight paths and far enough away from civilization that we don’t have too much of a risk off running into people.”

“Rao, yes! Yes, yes, yes!”

Kara practically hovered the whole walk from the car to the forest’s edge, and once they’d made it in far enough that the sun’s light slowly filtered away, she did a somersault in the air, grinning at the feeling of weightlessness, of freedom from the act she put on for everyone else. And then J’onn was J’onn, green skin and all, floating right up in the air with her and looking nearly as comfortable in getting to be himself. Over the course of the afternoon, they practiced winding through the trees, Kara learning to turn at speed without leaving destruction in her wake, learning to listen for faraway sounds and track them, learning to center herself even when she was buzzing with excitement.

Over the large lunch of sandwiches and cold pizza and chips Eliza had packed for them, Kara asked, “Do you think I’ll get to be like my cousin?”

“What do you mean? Using your powers publicly?”

“Yeah, to save people. You know, being a hero. Just like him.”

J’onn took a deep breath, trying to measure his response. “I think you’ll be a hero in your own right, Kara, whether you use your powers or not.”

Read the rest on AO3!

#alex danvers #kara danvers #doctor au #supergirl #fanfic #Primum non nocere #eliza danvers #J'onn J'onzz #ao3feed

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creamxgrim · 6 years

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The Outcasts (PT 3)

Keith was tired of being persecuted for being a half-Galra. Similarly, Takashi Shirogane - the so-called strongest man on Earth - was considered an aberration, mistreated and experimented on, and isolated himself somewhere. To Keith, finding this man was his only chance of escaping from solitude.

Links to previous/following chapters:

Part 1 - Part 2

AO3

.PART 3.

Shirogane blinked a few times at Keith, thick eyebrows creasing like he didn't quite understand what he was just told. “You’re… like me?” he breathed out, voice hopeful and eyes almost twinkling as he waited for an answer. To say it was a stark contrast to how serious and ill humored he had been just hours before was quite the understatement.

“I’m an alien,” Keith told, “Half alien. Galra, specifically.”

“Oh.”

Keith braced himself for the worst - Shirogane stared at him from different angles, frowning and pursing his lips in concentration. It was only a matter of seconds before the man went on and on about how Galra are batshit homicidal maniacs, manipulating bastards, violent scum of the universe, plus the whole book on curses and swearing and all the nasty yadda yadda he was more than used to. Truly, nothing the man said would surprise him at this point.

Shirogane finally hummed, leaning back on his robotic arm, and blurted out, “Isn’t your skin supposed to be purple?”

...who’s in the fucking what now?!

“I just told you I’m half-Galran and this is the first thing you say?”

Not that he was annoyed, irritated or, really, anything. He just wanted to make sure he was hearing right, because it wasn’t possible that after all the years he required to get used to people reacting badly to his descendance, he would not need to control his temper. Even the temper itself materialized into a being inside his head that looked just as confused as he was.

“I… was… supposed to say something else?” Shirogane asked with a slight tilt of his head.

“Well, yeah. I mean, no. I don't know.”

“Alright. Uhm.” The man scratched the back of his head, his long locks swaying haphazardly. “You’re… quite short for a Galra, aren’t you?”

Keith deadpanned. Now this was a good moment to control his temper.

Not that it was… short, or anything.

He obviously wasn’t, either.

Goddammit.

Keith sat up slowly, carefully, trying not to overexert his tired and frostbitten body. He found that his throat was very sensitive as well, so he kept his voice low. “You’re not going to be hostile? You’ve gone to space. You’ve surely seen how Galra can be… aggressive.”

“I have, but I could ask you the same. You’ve heard of the things I’ve done, haven't you? And yet, here we are.”

It was almost infuriating how flawless Shirogane’s logic was. Keith had no way to counter.

They stared at each other for a long moment, silently, contemplating, before Keith finally broke his gaze away and pulled the blankets tighter around his body. “I don’t care what people say, Shirogane, I just-”

“Shiro.”

Keith looked up at him again, knitting his eyebrows in silent questioning.

“Call me Shiro,” the man completed, wearing for the first time a smile that reached his eyes.

The half-Galra almost bit his tongue, stuttering. “Sh-Shiro,” he managed to repeat after a moment, “Why did you isolate yourself…?”

Shiro’s smile dropped, as did his gaze. He brought it back up after a moment, but Keith had already regretted asking anything by then. “It’s difficult living in society when you’ve lost all your value as a human being.” He blinked twice at Keith, mouth innocently hanging open. “Uh, no offense!”

“None taken.”

Keith almost let a smile draft on his face. That was the first real conversation he’s had in… in ages, and Shiro was actually quite pleasant a company.

“What about you? What brings you to my evil lair?” Shiro asked softly, with a playful smile. Keith found it impossible to hold back a grin this time, but he forced it back to answer the question.

“I just…” Keith pursed his lips, searching for the right words. “I just wanted someone to talk to.”

Shiro looked at him like he was aware that wasn't everything. Like he was aware that - obviously - no one in their sane mind would do what Keith did, risking his own life, just to have a conversation partner - not that Galra were very sane to begin with. But he didn't pry. He didn't judge. He just stared at Keith solemnly, with empathy showing in his eyes so strongly that the half-Galra had to avert his gaze to avoid revealing any more.

“We can talk,” Shiro said softly, way too softly for someone with his reputation - his voice was almost silk, relieving like the lighthouse to a lost ship. “But you don't have to be in a hurry. You’re running a fever and I’m sure you’re tired.”

Keith nodded silently. His trip to the mountains was indeed physically and mentally straining. Adding in the hours he spent outside freezing like a snowmanlien - or whatever half-Galra became when they died a horrible, cold death - and how his body was all sore and sick, it was a miracle he was even still conscious.

“Alright, you take a nap. I’ll show you around when you're feeling better,” Shiro said as he reached for a small towel that was laying on the mattress. He twirled his lips around as he dipped the fabric into a bowl by the nightstand, and shyly glanced between it and Keith. “Uhm, not that there's much to see. I, uh… I break a lot of stuff.”

There was a light dusting of pink on the man's cheeks that made Keith grin softly as he laid on the bed. Shiro silently and carefully twisted the towel to get rid of the excess water and hesitated as he brought it closer to Keith.

He pursed his lips, brows knit together and a look of utmost concentration on his face as he slowly placed the humid fabric over Keith's forehead. The half-Galra winced at the cold in contrast to his burning skin, and Shiro immediately flinched. “Did I hurt you…?” he whispered, eyes roaming over Keith's face.

“Nn. S’ cold,” Keith gurgled in return.

The relieved sigh escaping Shiro's lips was clear indication that he’d injured people by accident before. Judging by his reaction, many times.

“Keith,” he called softly, “Sorry that I pushed you away when you arrived. People don’t usually want to… just talk.”

And you have to defend yourself, was Keith's thought.

“Nothing I haven't experienced myself,” he admitted painlessly. That was almost routine for him, honestly, and if he had to guess, he’d say it was part of the reason why Shiro decided to lead a lonely life. He didn’t look like the kind of person who would enjoy having to hurt others.

Shiro gave him a small, empathetic smile before standing up. “Rest. I’ll be around if you need me.”

The man walked over to the wall and flipped the light switch. Keith was bathed in a darkness that he relished; his eyes stung and he was far too tired to be able to keep them open any longer even if he wanted.

/X/

He woke up briefly during the night. The dim light of a candle caught his sleepy attention; he could barely open his eyes but was able to make out Shiro’s form, sitting by the other end of the room, lit up by the golden glow as he read a book.

Shiro glanced at him from over the book and stood up, approaching. If Keith had to defend himself he would be as good as dead; he couldn’t move a muscle. His eyes instinctively closed as Shiro gently pressed warm fingers to his forehead. They felt solid, rocklike; probably from his robotic hand. Keith would have guessed it was cold, but the heat was a welcome surprise. The half-Galra barely noticed when he fell back asleep.

/X/

The next time he opened his eyes, the room was brighter - with how much it felt like he slept, he safely assumed it was dawn. Shiro was changing the towel on his forehead with as much patience and concentration as he had before, like he was worried he would crush Keith with the slightest of wrong movements.

He was probably right.

But he seemed to be so kind, and so gentle. It was difficult seeing him as the god of destruction he was portrayed to be.

Was this really the man Keith had been looking for?

“Keith,” he whispered as he adjusted the fabric, “Your fever isn’t going down. I’ll need to head to the city to get you some medicine. Do human chemicals work on you?”

The half-Galra nodded but promptly regretted doing so; his head spun and throbbed like he spent the whole night banging it like a hammer against the wall.

“Alright. There’s food in the kitchen if you feel hungry. I should be back before sunset.”

Keith mumbled a small response this time, weak and broken, before slowly drifting back to sleep, lulled by the ticking of a nearby clock and the soft sound of a door closing.

/x/

@chikiblue tagging you as requested! ♥

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crystallinearts · 7 years

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@ladsindistress

Lads in Distress fic incoming, featuring one of the cut princes because... uhhhhh... because I find sleepy characters endearing? Because I’m into melting-an-ice-prince’s-heart tsundere ships?? ... Because he’s adorable???

Whatever!! I have fun with this. It’s been a while since I’ve tried to incorporate this thing of “gonna try to stick to the original writing’s tone but use my own style” sort of thing, haha.

Enjoy!!! <3

Sleeping Beauty

| Charming x Beau |

The sight of my new betrothed lying on my bed is not at all what I expect when I retire to my room for the day.

There he is, though. Beau is still fully clothed, boots and all, curled up on top of my sheets; he looks no less comfortable for it, either. In fact, if I weren’t looking directly at his clothes, I’d think he was wrapped up in nothing but a long, soft nightshirt. His bangs are still over one eye, although they’re sweeping over as if trying to also cover his other as well. Dark blonde lashes are closed tightly, yet, at the same time, they look as if he could wake up any second.

However, I don’t think that’s even a possibility. He looks as if he’s sleeping the sleep of the dead. It might alarm me a bit, if I couldn’t see that his chest is slowly rising and falling. So he’s still breathing. He’s fine… just asleep. For once, he doesn’t have a scowl on his face or look indifferent to everything around him. He actually looks… sort of peaceful.

Pity that he chose to look peaceful in my bed.

Not even the crackling of the fireball I’ve just conjured is enough to rouse him. You would think most people would jump a mile at the sound of that. I sigh and the flames match my frustration, growing a little brighter. Am I really going to have to do this the hard way? Heavy sleeper or not, this seems ridiculous.

“Prince Beau!” My free hand grabs his shoulder, giving him as rough a shake as I dare to. “Wake up!”

Wow. All he does is stir slightly, one hand reaching to brush at my fingers. Though his eyebrows draw together as if he’s only mildly disturbed, they fall back into a more relaxed position quickly enough. “Mmmnnn…” Legs tuck up underneath him further, moving as if there’s been a sudden draft and he’s gotten cold.

That’s two things I’ve tried that haven’t worked. Gods, what is with him? A curse of being constantly tired is one thing, but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to just sleep wherever he pleases – especially in my palace. “Prince Beau!” I repeat, more harshly this time. My grip on his shoulder tightens significantly, and I bring my fireball just close enough so that he can feel its heat. “Wake up! If I have to say it a third time, it will not be pleasant for you!”

What I’ve researched about his curse leads me to believe there’s some kind of ‘true love’s kiss’ element. Is that really the case? Does he have to be kissed to wake up? If so, I’ll simply levitate him out of here. I’m not going to tolerate his presence in my room at night, nor am I going to kiss a slumbering man I’ve known for barely a day.

Thankfully, it seems that the warmth of the blaze is what pulls him out of whatever dream he was having. His eyes flutter open, golden orbs full of fatigue despite (I assume) having been resting for a while peering up at me. “Princess… great…” Rosebud lips part briefly as a yawn breaks through his speech, and amazingly enough, he does nothing but turn onto his other side. “I don’t care what you want… I’m sleeping, so… it can wait…” Another yawn interrupts him, so forceful this time that it makes his entire slender frame shudder. “… Until tomorrow…” He shifts his head around, nuzzling his cheek against the fabric of my topmost blanket. “Get out of… my room…”

“Your room?!” His words surprise me so much that my magic dissipates in an instant. Anger bubbles up inside of me at the thought that he has so much nerve to command me to leave when it’s my room he’s fallen asleep in. Why on Earth does he think it’s his?! “I don’t know what kind of dream you’re having, Prince Beau…” When my hands grab him for a second time, I stay true to my threat. Gentle is not the word I’d use to describe how I pull him into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. “… But you are in my room! I’m tired, too, and I’d like to go to sleep! Kindly get off my bed and go to your own room!”

My less-than-sweet touches and tone seem to snap him back to being almost fully alert. His eyes are half-lidded as if he’s still tremendously exhausted, and he’s looking around in a confused daze. A third yawn cuts through the silence as he rubs at his visible eye. At least he seems like he’s actually paying attention now. “… Your room…?” He pouts for half a second, then it evolves into a complete scowl. Ah. There’s the ill-tempered prince I’ve been dealing with. “A thousand pardons.” The bed hardly creaks as he gets to his feet, nearly tripping over himself as he starts toward the door. I don’t miss the sarcasm in his voice as he ‘apologizes’, either. “Excuse me.”

>[Just dismiss it.]

Why he was in my room in the first place, I’m sure I’ll never know. His curse renders him constantly weary, though, so whatever he was doing in here, he probably doesn’t ever intend to fall asleep in odd places. It’s not worth a fight.

“Goodnight!” I call after him, albeit a little bitterly.

Though I can’t be sure, I think I hear a quiet scoff before he shuts the door.

Urgh. You’d think a prince would have better manners.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Tomorrow we leave to begin the courting period in the Dream Kingdom, so I’d better get my rest instead of being upset with Beau. Hopefully, the next two months will be as uneventful as possible.

>[Ask him why he was in your room.]

“Hey, wait just a second!”

Thrice now I’ve grabbed him by the arm, and when he turns to glance at me, he doesn’t look thrilled. If I were to wager a guess, I’d call the look on his face irritation. “What? I thought you wanted me out of your room.”

My teeth chew at my lower lip for a moment, because there’s nothing I can say to that. He’s right, I do want him out. It’s not like I’d rather have him stay, for heaven’s sake! “… I do. But you owe me an explanation. What were you doing snooping around in my room in the first place?”

“Snooping.” As if judging my word choice, he snorts before rubbing at his eye again. How long has he been asleep? Shouldn’t he be rested enough to not look like he’s about to keel over? “That isn’t becoming of a prince. I wasn’t here on purpose.”

Something about his words strikes me, strangely, as true. It’s enough that I release my grip on his arm. “Then why were you here?”

His eyes narrow for a second, then return to just looking drawn. “Like I said, it wasn’t on purpose. Not like I was waiting for you or anything like that. I was tired, heading back to my room, and I… just… must have gone into the wrong room.”

I blink, and in a flash, he’s heading out. “Have a good night.”

“Ah–” By the time I can stammer out a, “You too,” he’s disappeared down the hall.

… I’m starting to feel a little drained myself.

It still annoys me that he fell asleep in my room, but… I can’t bring myself to truly be angry at him. Tomorrow we leave to Dream Kingdom for the courting period, so I should probably get some sleep, as well. Hopefully, the next two months will just go smoothly.

#Lads in Distress #Beau #Prince Beau #Charming #Princess Charming #Charming x Beau #aaaaahhhhhhh I'm sorry but he's my boy? <3

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