Final fantasy 7 x reader

Sick (Young Sephiroth x reader)

Sephiroth staggered along the hallway to (Y/n)'s apartment, his vision blurring as the oppressive heat enveloped him. His nose dripped as his once-clear eyes were now bloodshot, a testament to the unyielding grip of his illness. The cold that had crept in unnoticed had transformed into a raging inferno, leaving him weak and disoriented. He struggled with the keys trying to unlock the door. It opened with a click, and he slumped against the doorframe.

(Y/n) was in the kitchen cooking, but her ears perked when she heard the front door open, she heard him stumble inside and she was quickly there in the hallway grabbing him before he fell. "Sephiroth?" She said, her voice edged with concern, using her strength to hold him up.

The silver-haired swordsman was practically boneless as he leaned heavily on (Y/n), his head lolling forward as he let out a low groan that was more whine than anything. His eyes, previously sharp and clear, were now weary and unfocused, and his face was beaded with sweat and flushed with fever. He attempted to murmur something, but it devolved into a series of sneezes that left him breathless and slumped in her arms.

(Y/n)'s worry was now through the roof, she had never seen him this bad before. With a slight grunt, she lifted him up and brought him over to the couch and placed him on it, gently. She placed the back of her hand on his forehead and almost flinched, his skin was as hot as the sun. "Damn..." She mumbled before hurrying off to grab a thermometer.

Sephiroth slumped against the couch like a ragdoll, his strength entirely spent. His skin felt like it was on fire, yet he shivered with chills. He closed his eyes and breathed in short, shallow gasps.

(Y/n) returned a moment later and tenderly shoved the thermometer under his tongue. He obediently held it in place while he dizzily looked up at her.

A moment passed before the alarm on the thermometer alerted her that it was done. 102.1. She frowned deeply, this was a high fever. Grabbing a cold cloth she brought it back to him and gently pressed it against his forehead. (Y/n) sat on the edge of the couch right beside him. "How long have you been sick?" Her voice was gentle.

Sephiroth's eyes, bleary from illness, tried to focus on (Y/n)'s face as she placed the cool cloth on his forehead. The relief was immediate, and he leaned into the touch with a low, grateful groan.

"Don't know," he managed to croak out, his voice raw and hoarse. "Felt fine... yesterday morning. Headache... by afternoon." He closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath.

She ran her slender fingers through his silvery hair in an attempt to comfort him. "Why didn't you tell me you were feeling ill sooner..? You always try to act as if you're invincible." Her voice was soft as she continued her gentle massage against his scalp.

A shiver ran down Sephiroth's spine, his body aching and his mind fuzzy. He closed his eyes again and let out a long sigh, allowing himself to melt into her touch, her voice soothing him despite the pain.

"I..." he started, his voice gravelly, "I don't want to be a burden." He opened his eyes again and looked at her, the vulnerability in his gaze for once unguarded.

Her hand continued to gently comb through his hair, her touch careful and tender. She met his gaze and her heart ached for him. "You're not a burden." She assured him, her expression soft. "Not to me, never to me."

The confession made Sephiroth's chest ache more than his illness ever could. He looked away, his eyes closing again as he leaned further into her touch.

"I... I'm supposed to be strong," he mumbled, his voice thick with the exhaustion of keeping up a facade. "But I can't even handle a virus."

(Y/n)'s gaze remained on him, her touch gently tracing over his hair. He looked so vulnerable and fragile in that moment, and it broke her heart.