Fandom: The Case Study of Vanitas
Pairing: Noé Archiviste x F!Reader
Theme/Type + TW: hurt/comfort and fluff scenario + No TW necessary
RS: established (engaged)
Summary: Noé catches you during a fainting spell and looks after you for a while, to make sure you're alright.
The late-afternoon sun filtered through the tall windows of the coral-red townhouse, casting steady bands of warm light across the entry hall.
Inside, the polished walnut banister reflected the glow, and the wallpaper, deep red with a faint, repeating pattern of florals, looked a little darker by comparison.
When Ondine, the head-maid of the house, opened the door, Noé stepped inside with a quiet nod of thanks.
His posture was perfectly straight, his expression showing a kind of barely-contained eagerness. In one hand, he carried a small bouquet he had picked out from a vendor on the way.
It looked fresh, neatly arranged, and had clearly been chosen with care.
Your mother met him before he could fully step off the welcome mat. She had long since adopted an easy familiarity with him, speaking as though he were already a member of the household, simply upon his arrival home.
“Noé, dear, you look well,” she greeted, her smile widening at the flowers. “Are those for me again?”
He handed them over without hesitation. “Yes. You said you liked the pale violets last week. I found some that looked similar.”
Her face lit up as she accepted them. “You’re always so thoughtful.” She turned toward the sitting room, already thinking of a vase. “She’s upstairs getting ready. She’ll be down soon.”
At the mention of you, his smile softened into something quieter. “Thank you, Madame.”
The house felt unusually calm today. Your father was gone again, away for a few days to sort out shipping arrangements, something Noé only vaguely understood, and the stillness gave everything a muted, peaceful atmosphere.
He’d planned a simple outing for today. Perhaps a walk through one of the less crowded districts and a stop at your favourite pâtisserie. Nothing extravagant, just the kind of afternoon he had been looking forward to since he’d woken up…
Upstairs, though, reality was not matching the promise of an uncomplicated day.
You sat at your vanity, leaning forward slightly, fingertips resting against the wooden edge. The afternoon heat had settled heavily in the room, and the air felt strangely thick and twice as uncomfortable.
You had already paused two times while getting ready, once while clasping your necklace, once when bending to pick up a dropped hairpin, because the room had wavered around you for a moment. You had brushed both episodes off, thinking it was just the weather.
You reminded yourself to stand, fix your hair, and smooth your collar. Each was a simple task, nothing too difficult.
But the moment you pushed to your feet, the floor shifted in a slow, sickening way. Your vision blurred at the edges, and you instinctively reached for the iron bedframe to steady yourself. A faint pulse throbbed behind your eyes, and the sour twist of nausea you’d been ignoring all morning dragged itself up again, stronger this time.
Just give it a second, you thought. Just breathe. It will fade.
You stayed still until your sight sharpened a little and your knees stopped wobbling. Then you tried again, took one step, always slow and careful. The dizziness didn’t fully pass; it just retreated far enough that you hoped you could manage.
Then came a knock, gentle but distinct.
“It’s me. Noé. May I come in?” His voice was warm, but there was an undertone of formality, the kind he used when he wasn’t sure if he was intruding.
You answered. Or rather, you tried to. The sound came out thin and quiet, barely a response at all, but he heard it anyway, and the door opened partway.
The sight that greeted him made his expression tighten, just slightly, but enough to be noticed. You were upright but barely, gripping the bedframe with white-knuckled tension. Your face lacked all its usual colour. Your eyes didn’t seem to focus on him right away. To him, even your breathing sounded too shallow.
“Are you alright?” he asked as he stepped inside, his voice soft, but moving with a sharp, focused urgency that he rarely displayed unless something was genuinely wrong.
You attempted to straighten, to pretend, with what little steadiness you had left. But the moment you shifted your hand from the bedpost, your balance tipped. The dizziness returned instantly and with force. A wave of weakness rolled through your body, hollowing out your knees. The room dimmed around the edges, then narrowed further, as though the daylight itself was pulling away from you.
“No…” The whisper fell from your lips, faint and unfixed, not directed at him or anyone, more of a little slur than actual speech.
Noé moved before you were even fully falling, crossing the space between you in two quick steps. He caught you under your arms and pulled you close before your body could hit the floor. Your head dropped onto his shoulder, the last threads of consciousness slipping away quickly and completely.
“Easy,” he murmured, lowering you carefully. His voice shook despite his effort to keep it steady. One hand supported you behind your back, the other brushed your hair from your face. “I’ve got you. It’s alright. I’m here.”
Your breath was soft against his collar, light enough that he had to concentrate to feel it. He adjusted his hold, supporting your weight with a protective firmness, already thinking of calling for your mother, already worrying far more deeply than he let himself show.
Only after a long while, slowly, so agonizingly slowly, the fog began to lift.
Your lashes fluttered against the dim light of your bedchamber, the world swimming back into shape in muted, unthreatening pieces. The ceiling. The familiar curve of the canopy. The distant hum of the city beyond your window. A warmth around your hand, though not your own, for your skin still felt chilled, as if your blood had forgotten how to circulate.
As your awareness deepened, you felt the gentle weight of a gloved thumb brushing the back of your hand in slow, careful strokes. Noé’s presence registered before his face came into focus. His familiar scent, the quiet steadiness of his breathing, the anxious stillness only he could somehow make tender.
You shifted, just a fraction, and the movement caught his attention at once.
“There you are,” His voice was soft enough that it barely disturbed the air, but the relief in it was unmistakable. He leaned in, the faintest smile easing into place as he saw you return to the waking world. “You’re back.”
Your throat felt dry, your body weak, but the warmth of his expression made something inside you loosen, soften. You tried to speak, but only a whisper came out.
He shook his head gently, urging silence. “Don’t push yourself yet. It’s okay.”
The vampire tightened his hold around your hand, bringing it closer between his palms as though his touch alone might coax warmth back into your fingers. He had removed one glove, so your skin met his directly, the contrast noticeable, his warmth almost startling.
“You scared me,” he admitted, though the words carried not a trace of reproach, only lingering fear softened by his affection for you. “You were out for a while.”
“How… how long?” Your voice was a fragile thread.
“About half an hour, I think.” He brushed a stray lock of hair from your cheek, his touch featherlight. “I didn’t call your mother.” A faint, rueful smile tugged at one corner of his lips. “I knew you wouldn’t have wanted that.”
Even with your vision still slightly blurred, you could see the tender worry in his eyes, rawer than he tried to let on, more vulnerable than he likely intended.
Noé had seen anemia before, had already seen it in Mademoiselle Amelia, yet each time it touched you, he responded as if it were happening for the first time.
He adjusted his seat, still close, watching for the slightest sign of discomfort.
“Do you feel dizzy?” he asked quietly. “Nauseated? Anything like before?”
“A little lightheaded,” you admitted, your voice steadier this time.
“That’s alright,” he murmured. “Just stay still. Let your body catch up.”
For a moment, the two of you sat in peaceful silence. Your breathing gradually regulated, his thumb tracing delicate circles over your skin. He didn’t fuss, nor did he panic. He simply stayed with you and anchored you.
Then, with a soft smile, he continued.
“When you’re feeling stronger… if you still want to go out, we can. But if you’d rather stay here, I don’t mind at all. We can sit by the fire for a while, or I can read to you.” His smile widened slightly. “Whatever feels best for you.”
Your chest warmed with something gentle. Noé always erred on the side of kindness, but when these spells hit, he became something even softer, even more attentive, just for you.
You squeezed his hand weakly. His eyes lit at the faint pressure, as if it were the strongest gesture in the world.
“Just tell me what you need,” he murmured. “I’ll follow your pace.”
A/N: ...this sadly turned out just a little shorter than I planned, but it was all I could come up with. I've never written about anemia before, and tjis might just not fit the actual symptoms? I'll be trying to practice this for the future, though...
A/N 2.0: Tumblr made the anon request vanish??? It's not shown for me anymore, and I somehow can't get it back. Help </3
