jsmn_kinkmeme | ☆ Round Two!

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☆ Round Two!

Welcome to the second round of the Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell Kink Meme at

jsmn_kinkmeme!

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■ Only one prompt per post.
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■ Have fun! :)

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■ Any kinks welcomed!
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☆ Previous Rounds: Round One

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Lucy came in to tend the fire and to bring a late dinner for Childermass. He quietly thanked her, and then requested fresh water.

Once all had been attended to, as night was coming on, after he had eaten only enough to ease his hunger, Childermass took up the duty of wiping Norrell's brow with the clout, wetted and wrung again and again to keep it cool.

The later it grew, the more fitful Norrell became until he clawed at the sheets and his eyes fluttered open and he made sounds that made Childermass's mouth sour with fear.

Childermass kept a firm hold of one cold hand, not knowing if he was doing any good or not, and repeatedly thinking of the way his stomach had dropped out from under him when he had turned Brewer into the Abbey yard and seen what was unmistakably the doctor's carriage at the front door. What strange fear had seized him as he'd run into the house that seemed so empty, empty because it did not exude the familiar aura of Norrell's magic-- an aura that was more home to Childermass than Hurtfew itself.

He'd nearly succumbed to mourning before he could make it up to the bedroom and see that Norrell was not dead, not dead but still suffering in a fever the likes of which had never taken him before, his own magic drawn in so close to himself as to be undetectable.

Childermass barely knew what he'd done in those first moments, trying to hide his relief, trying to fight through the fear.

But now here he was at Norrell's side and here he would stay until the man awoke; Childermass was resolute.

But it was very difficult to watch throughout the night as Norrell only worsened; it was a trial for Childermass to sit there and do nothing, nothing useful at any rate. He could only feel extremely foolish as he spoke quietly, as he would to a disturbed horse. Norrell remained insensible, but continued to turn toward Childermass, toward his rough hands and rough voice, the same way a flower turns toward the sun.

Childermass's hands shook when he gently laid them along Norrell's over-hot face before quickly withdrawing to tend once more to the wet cloth on his brow.

Norrell had been mumbling insensibly for a while, but now there were words amongst the mumblings, and Childermass could not stop himself from bending closer to hear.

"No…" Norrell was saying, and then, "Stop!"

Childermass ground his teeth in frustration. What could he do?

"Not the teapot…" Norrell muttered.

Childermass let out something like a broken laugh, and then he softly agreed, "No, sir. Not near the books."

"Good," Norrell softly answered and quieted then for about half an hour.

Sitting up in the chair, his eyes closed, one booted foot upon a low stool, one hand curled loosely on the bed, Childermass was nearly asleep. What remained of the fire flickered against his closed eyelids. Norrell's breathing was a steady pulse at his side. Sleep beckoned.

But then the bed shook minutely as its occupant flinched and shifted.

Childermass woke from his doze to the sound of his name being called, quietly as though from far away by one who could not draw breath.

"Childermass," Norrell was murmuring with every exhale. A sharp breath in as though fighting for air, and then the wheezing breath out, Childermass's name on his lips.

The man he called to leaned closer and found his unbandaged hand to hold in a firm clasp. "I'm here, sir," he vowed. "I'll not leave you again. Can you hear me?"

"Childermass… I need him."

"But I'm here, sir."

"Please," Norrell begged, the fever raging on his brow as he winced against the pain that wracked his body, "Please…"

"Anything you need, sir."

"Childermass."

"Yes, sir."

Childermass bowed over him, his hands clutching Norrell's, his forehead to Norrell's chest as he whispered a stream of barely audible promises, "Yes. I'm here, sir. I won't go. I'll stay as long as you need me. So long as you stay, too. Fight this, Norrell. Whatever it is. And I'll be by your side for the whole of it, I promise, I promise…"

Norrell's pulse was too fast and weak at his wrist where Childermass held him. His breath was too wheezy.

Childermass prayed as he had not since childhood.

=

Before dawn, Norrell started again with his tremblings and murmurings and soon enough it turned to raving, Childermass's name intermingled with pleas and cries of pain.

Childermass willfully toughened himself to the sound of it, sternly keeping to the regimen of cool cloth and gentling touches as best he could, though he knew he was not himself a gentle man.

"Childermass, you must fetch Childermass…"

"But I'm here, sir," Childermass responded without much hope, for Norrell did not seem to know him, no matter how often he calmly answered the increasingly desperate pleas.

"But I have to tell him," Norrell said, his eyes blinking open. He was neither awake nor asleep in his delirium as he reached blindly out before him.

Childermass clasped both his hands and tried to settle him as he leaned into the magician's field of vision, trying yet again between clenched teeth, "I'm here, sir."

"You are…?"

"Yes. You are ill, sir, and I beg you will fight to be well again."

"But I must tell you…"

"Yes. You must tell me what?"

"I… I have such great depth of feeling for you, I cannot… I cannot..."

Childermass leaned closer yet and gripped the man's hands harder as though he could ground him in the here and now.

"You can," Childermass cajoled.

"It… why does it hurt? Everything hurts…" Norrell whined and twisted in the bedding as though to escape it.

Childermass peeled back a layer of the blankets and removed the wet cloth from the pillow where it had fallen. "It is the fever," Childermass told him. "Aches come with it, and difficult breath. You must be strong, sir."

"No," Norrell said, blinking up into nothingness as he pressed a fist against his own chest over his heart as though to still the sudden, clenched pounding of it. "Why do I love you," he asked, sad and lonely and lost, "when you cannot love me back?"

Childermass froze in the act of reaching for the man's face. His nostrils flared as he sucked in a shocked breath.

"It… It is no matter," Childermass tried, and then settled the back of his hand on the sweating brow, even hotter than before. "Nothing matters but your health, sir. You need to drink when we give you water and you need to rest so that you might fight off this fever." He then reached out to steal his fingers into the fist clutched over the heaving breast. "Easy now, sir. I've got you. I've got your hand. Do you feel it?"

"…yes…"

"All's well," Childermass promised, wondering if Norrell would live another day as his sheets and nightclothes were soaked with sweat and his face red with the contagion, his breath shakier at every inhalation, and his words less coherent as the night pushed into morning.

=

When Lucas stuck his head in the room at first light, he found Childermass asleep in the chair, bent at an awkward angle so that his head rested on the bed and his hand clasped Norrell's. Childermass snored lightly and Norrell slept relatively peacefully. Seeing as there were no immediate needs, Lucas slowly backed out and sent the servants to their duties, ordering fresh water and breakfast as soon as may be and a change of bedclothes to be ready. He snuck in to build up the fire himself and only then did he gently touch Childermass's shoulder.

Childermass jerked to wakefulness in a moment and looked first to Norrell before turning his attention to Lucas.

"Food's on its way," Lucas offered. "And fresh sheets. We'll manage between the two of us to change him out of his things?"

"Yes," Childermass agreed, reaching out to Norrell once more. "He's soaked through, poor dear."

=

With the windows firmly closed and the fire roaring, Norrell was removed to the sopha while Lucy and Dido changed out the bedding with swift efficiency. After the girls left, Lucas and Childermass stripped Norrell of his nightshirt and gave him a very quick wash. Childermass wrapped him in an oversized robe to dry him, just holding him close while Lucas grabbed up another nightshirt. They worked together to dress him and return him to the bed, and he was rather more pliable than when he was awake, though heavier.

Norrell looked more himself when he was finally returned to the bed - now warm and dry - with soft, short hair curling over his brow, and Childermass left him only briefly to attend to his own needs before returning to the chair, now in his shirtsleeves as the room was so warm, and determined to stay there for the foreseeable future.

Childermass changed the bandage over Norrell's hand, examining the scraped palm carefully, but it had been well-cleaned and there was nothing to do but cover it up again with a fresh dressing.

Then, from a hidden pocket, he withdrew the birch bark with its bloody writing to examine it. After tracing over the words innumerable times until the entirety of it was burned into his mind's eye, Childermass read it out: "Banish the weakness of desire. Focus on magic, not on fire."

He watched Norrell's slack face as he read it, but there was no response. Whether sleeping or unconscious, Norrell did not hear him.

(end part 3)

-inaudible screeching-

A!A I'm DYING over here, this is so good. So good, ugh.

"Why do I love you," he asked, sad and lonely and lost, "when you cannot love me back?"

I had to actually take a moment to stop and process that, I was so wrecked by it. And Childermass calling Norrell "poor dear" and oh, there's so much tenderness here. I love this fic so much and am on the edge of my seat to see what happens. You're brilliant.

Oh god, I'm having so many feelings right now. I don't know what else to say, apart from that this fic is wonderful and full of tenderness and caring!Childermass has turned me into a ball of mush. I'll just be here refreshing for part 4...

Same!

Enjoying this so much!

Only just found this, and it's so good :) I just hope that one day there'll be more of it, a!a you've got a lovely writing style.

I still really love this, the h/c of it, and everyone helping. I do hope it will be continued.

(Sorry! I haven't abandoned this story; I promise!!!)

Norrell fussed quite a bit throughout the day, eating and drinking only sparingly when Childermass pressed him with tea and water and wine-soaked bread.

He reminded Childermass a bit of a newborn pup: blind and weak and unable to do much but to call out for its mother and search in desperation for sustenance.

Childermass stayed close, as Norrell seemed most calm when he was near, with a hand clasping Norrell's atop the bedclothes or simply laid upon his arm or shoulder as he fretted in his sleep.

The doctor returned again that day and - when he proclaimed there was nothing to be done - was chased away by Childermass's dark looks and uncouth words.

But before he left, the doctor was determined to say his piece, even if speaking to Childermass felt a bit like bearding a badger in its den.

"The fact of the matter is: you and the other servants here are taking very good care of Mr. Norrell. You've all shown a depth of feeling and devotion in your attentions to his every need, and there is nothing I can add to your regimen to improve his chances. Right now, I give him the best possible odds to make a full recovery. Good day to you."

The doctor gave Childermass a nod of pompous self-possession and let himself out of the bedroom.

Childermass had no reason to be suspicious of the doctor or his intentions (the man had been healing people across a good portion of Yorkshire for the better part of forty years), so even though he tried not to let temptation best him, he could not ignore the hope blooming in his chest.

As evening drew on, Childermass used the flattest part of the bed to lay out his cards. He asked question after question of them, but they refused to be very forthcoming, and while Childermass could read a change on the horizon, he could not see if it be for good or ill, or what any of it boded for Norrell.

Childermass took himself down to the kitchen to eat a hearty dinner, leaving Lucas to keep an eye on Norrell, but as soon as he was done he returned to the sick room to retake his seat at his master's side and wait for the full of night to draw down.

As it did - as the sun put itself away for the day and the stars bloomed across the inky blackness and a chill wind wrapped itself about the abbey - Childermass watched as Norrell's breathing eased, as his trembling stilled to calmness, as a hint of pink returned to the pallid face.

"You will be well," Childermass promised, "and I'll not leave you until you chase me out, sir."

Norrell gave no reaction, but he looked so healthful compared to the previous days that Childermass could not help but smile and watch and wait, even as the darkest part of the night came on and there was not a single thing in all the house that moved.

=

Childermass slept on and off throughout the night and whenever he woke, it was always to find Norrell sleeping peacefully, quiet in the equally quiet house.

When dawn peeked into the room with the rosy tips of its fingers, Childermass roused himself for the day. He tended to the fire and rang for breakfast and saw to it that Norrell was as comfortable as may be.

He found that his master had something of a frown upon his face, as though seeking a way out of a problem (so familiar an expression that it was a comfort to Childermass in and of itself), and so Childermass sat with him and snuck both of his hands into Norrell's-- ostensibly to warm them, but Childermass might admit if only to himself that it was primarily for his own comfort, for it while it was true that Norrell's hands were cold, there was still a warm thread of life in them that reassured Childermass far more than any doctor's proclamation.

Childermass bowed his head as he felt the sun ease further past the curtains, illuminating both of them in dusty halos around their hair and tucking its warmth about them like a loving mother.

With his head so bowed and his thoughts turned as inward as they were, Childermass did not notice the flutter of eyes, the quickening of breath, and the slow awakening that was taking place right in front of him.

"Childermass?" Norrell asked, his voice little more than a croak and his expression utterly befuddled in the growing light, "What are you doing in my room?"

Childermass gasped as his head shot up and a smile broadened his rough features. He barely registered the content of Norrel's question, overjoyed as he was by the lucid light in Norrell's eyes, the healthful tint to his cheeks, and the calm, fussy manner of his speech.

"Sir! You are well!"

"Have I not been?"

"You've had a fever and worse these last three days. Don't you remember? You braved the storm in the midst of a bad night and paid dearly for it."

"Storm…" Norrell asked, and his expression showed plainly how he struggled to remember, to put a firm grasp round his own memories.

"For a spell," Childermass clarified. "For some magic."

All at once, Norrell's pale face flushed and he sucked in a breath. "Ah, yes," he remarked in a falsely casual tone. "Perhaps I should have waited for a more seasonal night."

At this, he looked down to avoid Childermass's intense gaze and found their four hands entwined atop the bedclothes.

"Childermass, why are you clutching at me?"

Childermass slowly withdrew, careful not to jar the man or show his own sudden insecurity. "It seemed to calm you," he said, "in your delirium."

Norrell looked at his empty hands and said nothing.

Childermass's hand twitched, as though thinking to take up their handhold again, but then Childermass withdrew completely, standing and striding to the door in his loping strides to call for tea and food and every other good thing he could think of.

The servants could be heard calling joyfully the news to one another throughout the halls of the place before Childermass closed the door again and informed Norrell, "You will be weak yet. You've hardly eaten for days. You need to get your strength back up and--"

"Yes, yes," Norrell said, flapping a hand as though to wave him off, "I can see already you'll be a worse mother hen than any nurse. Bring me whatever you think is best and I will eat it, but I will not have you hovering over me while I do. And I cannot be expected to sit here and do nothing while I 'get my strength up'. I'll need books. Some Pale to start with, and if you could be so good as to fetch the three volumes on my desk, as well as the new one just come from Edinburgh, that will suffice for now-- and why are you smiling at me?"

Childermass's wild grin was quickly tamed down to a more customary smirk, but he only said, "No reason, sir. As soon as the food is brought up, I shall fetch your books directly."

"See that you do," Norrell said and set about righting the blankets so that each was turned down the same length and lay as crisply as possible over him as he smoothed away the wrinkles. "I cannot imagine you will let me out of bed until the wretched doctor comes and if I do not have food for the mind as well as the body, no recovery can be hoped for at all."

Childermass only asked if he was too cold or too warm, and then built up the fire accordingly, smiling all the while.

As soon as could be, Dido and Lucas brought up the food and Childermass ensured everything was to his master's satisfaction - it rarely was - and then took himself off to the library to fetch the requested volumes.

Norrell ate with gusto and was so hungry that he could not think of a single thing to complain about. He even remembered to thank Lucas when he took the empty tray away and then reached out for the books that Childermass was holding at the ready.

Within ten minutes, Norrell was asleep, the book open on his chest as he drowsed, and Childermass watched him all the while. When it was clear that Norrell was truly asleep and would not be disturbed by such small motions, Childermass retrieved the book and set it carefully aside before lowering the lights and sitting once more at his master's side.

He hesitated, but then slowly let his hand cover Norrell's where it lay on the blanket. Just for a moment Childermass sat there, looking all his fill, before finally leaving for his own bed, his own sleep, and his own dreams.

(end part 4)

aaAAAAAAAH I'm so excited to see there's an update on this! Eeeeeee!

"Childermass bowed his head as he felt the sun ease further past the curtains, illuminating both of them in dusty halos around their hair and tucking its warmth about them like a loving mother."

What lovely writing. Also, the tenderness and sweetness in this fic, I just can't. I love it.

I meant to comment on this ages ago I'm so sorry, I was really hoping you would continue because your writing is like poetry and I'm so captivated by this story. Can't wait for part five!

Am thrilled to see this updated! And of course as soon as Norrell is in his right mind he will be fretful, bitchy, and do his best to lie his way out of the things he doesn't realise he's admitted.

YAY an update :D Love this fic so much and I'm having lots of feelings over Childermass continuing to be tender and wanting to hold Norrell's hand even once Norrell is out of the woods and feeling more like his old self. I'm most definitely emotionally compromised and can't wait for more!

If the old Yorkshire doctor thought Childermass was a trial to tolerate, it was nothing to Norrell in full form.

"…And you do not need to tell me to keep myself in bed-- I will stay in bed as long as I like and when I am ready I shall return to the library. It is not so very trying to sit and read. I shall do so here and then I shall do so in the library, and the moment between the two will not be determined by you, Doctor."

The doctor turned to look at Childermass, who wore a knowing smirk, and the doctor said simply, "I see I am no longer needed here. You shall make your recovery in your own time, Mister Norrell… I am sure the servants shall see to that." This last was said with a pointed look to Childermass, whose smile was distinctly wolfish.

Then Lucas showed the doctor out and nothing was said until they heard the sound of the carriage moving off along the drive.

Norrell was sitting propped in bed with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

"The Pale, then?" Childermass asked. "Or the Pevensy?"

"Stokesey," Norrell said, just to be contrary.

So Childermass went down to the library and when he came back, he'd brought a small office with him: lap desk and ink and paper and all such paraphernalia that either of them might need.

Then Childermass handed over the Stokesey before making himself at home upon the sopha with some of his own work.

"What are you doing?" Norrell asked suspiciously.

"Working."

"Can you not do that in the library?"

"And how long will it be, sir, before I am needed? To fetch a book perhaps? Or cut a new quill? Or reset your lap desk?"

"All right, all right," Norrell said, waving his hand to cut him off. "You've made yourself clear." Norrell generally knew when he'd lost. Then he raised a warning finger and declared, "But I'll not have you disturbing my studies."

"No, sir," Childermass drawled in a voice laced with insolence, a cocky smile on his face as he merely glanced toward his master, as though barely paying him any mind at all.

=

Childermass proceeded to disturb him a great deal, and enjoyed himself immensely. He brought water and tea, bread and butter, bed warmers and cool cloths -- and when Norrell would have absolutely no more of that, Childermass took to tucking his blankets more securely about him, fluffing his pillows, and adjusting the curtains to ensure the light was just right.

"Lucas!" Norrell finally shouted, "Lucas! Childermass will not leave a poor sick man alone! Take him away and make him do some other work, for I cannot concentrate!"

Lucas and Childermass finally left Norrell to a bit of peace, sure that he was well on the mend. In the kitchen, they enjoyed a robust meal comprised primarily of mutton while they flirted with the maids and waited until the bell chimed for Norrell's room.

"Almost an hour," Childermass remarked as he stood and wiped his mouth with a careless sleeve. "Not bad."

Lucas only laughed at him as Childermass trotted back upstairs.

At Norrell's door he gave a perfunctory knock before letting himself in.

"Childermass, where have you been? You did not put nearly enough ink in the well, and this quill has become quite useless."

"I'll see to it at once, sir," Childermass said, all professionalism as he came around to take away the lap desk and attend to all its many necessities while Norrell lost himself in whatever book he'd decided upon for the time being.

"Cook will be sending dinner up shortly," Childermass told him when he returned the lap desk to its place.

"What, already?" Norrell asked, looking sharply up at him, the tassel of his little cap waving frantically.

Childermass smiled gently. "It's gone six some time ago, sir. Are you not hungry?"

"Well… yes, I suppose I am."

"Then I suppose you shall eat when it comes."

"You think you are very amusing," Norrell told him. "It is not so. You are insolent, Childermass. It's unbecoming a servant."

Childermass ducked his head to hide his smile. "And yet you cannot do without me, sir."

"There is that," Norrell softy acknowledged. Recovering himself, Norrell went on, "And after dinner, more books."

"More, sir?" Childermass asked with a glance askance to the desk and dresser, each by now housing several piles of various texts. "Will you not be sleeping sometime tonight, then?"

Norrell tried his hardest glare, likely to hide the flush of his cheeks as he said, "There was a book I was using. A gray calfskin cover…"

"On the floor?"

"The floor?!" Norrell cried.

"When you fainted--"

"You will continue to remind me of that…"

"I did remove it to the desk," Childermass said, somewhat conciliatory.

"Well, that's the one, then. After dinner."

"After dinner," Childermass agreed, trying to sort out the half of the conversation that wasn't being said.

=

After dinner, Childermass slipped into the room as Lucas was departing with the tray.

Norrell was staring at the fire, his fatigue obvious as he appeared rather drawn and weary, despite the day's lack of exertion. Since the morning, he'd done nothing but read and complain-- rather less of the former and more of the latter than usual, but Childermass supposed that was only to be expected when a fastidious gentleman was confined to bed and recovering from such a sickness.

Childermass pulled the curtains to keep the night-cold at bay as he went about the room, tidying things in the manner that Norrell most approved of.

Lastly, he drew the chair up alongside the bed and this finally caught Norrell's attention. The man gave him a mistrustful, sidelong look that Childermass wasn't entirely convinced he hadn't earned.

Norrell tried twice to ask a question, and gave up both times, perhaps worried that no matter what order he put his words in, they might give something away.

Sighing, Childermass withdrew the book from the depths of his outdated jacket. "Is this it, then?"

"Yes," Norrell said, but made no move to take it.

So, Childermass gently set it on his lap. Then, knowing that Norrell was paying very close attention without actually looking at him, Childermass slowly withdrew the birch bark with its bloody writing, and this he placed atop the book.

Norrell's hands skittered backward as though Childermass had daintily placed a large spider on the bed. Norrell tucked his hands under the bedclothes and swallowed audibly.

"Do you remember aught of your illness?" Childermass asked.

Norrell shook his head no, his eyes resolutely fixed on the birch bark.

"You spoke out in your sleep."

Norrell stilled completely, as though even the breath had gone out of him.

"You were asking for me even before I'd returned. You don't remember, do you?"

Norrell gave something like a twitch, perhaps the most he was capable of in that moment.

"It is not my intention to discomfit you, sir. But you said something to me in your sleep… and I think it be true, and I would know if it is so."

Norrell ducked his head further yet, like a turtle pulling into its shell.

"You declared that you loved me."

Never had a silence settled so thick and syrupy over a place. It was as though the air itself had congealed with some heavy sludge that tasted like sour fear and Childermass was suddenly determined to breathe some sweetness back into it.

"I would know if it be true, sir. Because…" Childermass had to fight to find his own words this time, and he was not sure if Norrell's inaction was a help or a hindrance to him, for he could find neither encouragement nor censure in the bowed head and still form.

"Because my feelings for you are rather more than a servant's ought to be." And even though Norrell would not look at him, Childermass could not look away. Unseen, he pleaded with his eyes even as he explained the best he could what he meant. "You hired me on when no one else in all the Riding would have me, and you earned my thanks. You treated me the same as any other of God's creatures, and you earned my admiration. When I proved myself competent, you entrusted me with words and deeds you did not trust to any other, and you earned my affection. You infected me with your passion for magic and looked at me like I was man, and you earned my love then, sir, you did." Childermass stopped to breathe then, desperate, and still Norrell did not look at him. "And so, I ask to know if be true, sir. If you tried to cast a spell to quell your own feelings for me. If you love me like you told me you did in your delirium. Because if we feel the same, sir…"

"It-- It is true," Norrell said. His voice was small, like a fearful creature hiding in some corner, but it was also determined, as though that same creature held an untested fierceness inside it. "I should never have dared to say anything about it to anyone, you least of all. I thought it… wrong."

"Some may call it so," Childermass agreed.

"And what do you call it?"

"I see little need to call it anything. I love you. That's all."

Slowly, hesitantly, Norrell withdrew a hidden hand from the covers and eased it toward Childermass, as though he happened to just casually decide to lay his arm out alongside him on the bed for no reason.

Slowly, but not at all hesitantly, Childermass clasped it in his own hand, rough and warm.

"Sir--"

"John," Norrell said.

"Oh," was all Childermass could manage then. Never had Norrell so easily silenced him with a single word.

"John," Norrell said again, as though trying out a foreign word, unsure of its pronunciation or even if he was using it correctly. "If we do feel the same… then I do not need these anymore." He casually brushed the book and birch bark away. They fell to the floor with a thump and Norrell finally looked up to see those intense, deep-set dark eyes still pleading with him.

"Can I kiss you?" Norrell abruptly asked. "Only, I know I won't have the courage to ask later," he said quickly, his watery gaze darting down to their tightly clasped hands and back up to Childermass's eager expression again.

Childermass's smile was very small, but so real as to be blinding in its sincerity. His rough hand squeezed Norrell's gently as he asked with a hint of amusement, "What do you think? Gilbert?"

"I… Well, I suppose it unbecoming of a gentleman to take advant--" but his words were stopped by Childermass's kiss, rough lips pressed warm and sweet to Norrell's mouth in something that felt very much like a beginning.

=

The End

if you hear shrieking don't be alarmed it is merely the sound of my delight floating across the earth to you because I LOVE THIS. It's so sweet and it has little bits of humor and it's just perfect. Such a good ending! I was anticipating it so much and it really lived up to expectations. Thank you, A!A, for providing this masterpiece to us.

Oh my good lord this was absolute perfection. I've been following along since the beginning and it's certainly been a ride I enjoyed every minute of. Thank you for writing this A!A, it was lovely in every way and I love how you write.

AHHHHHHH! ;-; oh my god the end of this was beyond perfect!

Oh! Oh, this is so sweet and wonderful just after I gave up looking for it to be updated, and the ending is the best.

I'm a bit late to reading the final part, but aaaaaah this is wonderful <3 I'm having so many Childerell feelings right now, thank you so much for this fic!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

☆ Round Two!

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (3/?)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (3/?)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (3/?)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (3/?)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (3/?)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (3/?)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (3/?)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (4/?)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (4/?)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (4/?)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (4/?)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (4/?)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (5/5)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (5/5)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (5/5)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (5/5)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (5/5)

Re: FILL: Feverish Confessions (5/5)