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dianneking · 1 year

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It’s not too late if we’re alive (Brienne/Reader)

A/N: It’s Day Two of May Trope Mayhem by @duckprintspress and I’ve never felt so inspired to write! Today’s prompt is War Setting so you get a WWII AU Brienne x Reader fic, because why not! (thanks to @weemssapphic for our historical AU talk, that made me buckle down and write). As always, link to AO3 in title below.

Disclaimer: I didn’t have the time to properly research this, so there might be historical inaccuracies on technical stuff like how war hospitals were organized etc. Disclaimer # 2: I seem physically unable to keep my fics under 1000w, blame the angst, not me.

Tags: War, WWII, Hospitals, Wounds (not graphic), Talk of Death, Talk of Bombing, Smoking, Second-person Narrator, Angst, Breakups, Angst with a Happy Ending, No use of Y/N.

Fandom: Game of Thrones Pairing: Brienne of Tarth/Reader Wordcount: 1258w

It’s not too late if we’re alive

Any day that passed, you knew it could happen. You were at war after all. Day in and day out the battles raged, and humans fought against other humans, machines against other machines, metal ringing against metal, their screams loud in the smoke-filled air.

They fell in troves. Some made it to you, others weren’t so lucky. And you knew that Brienne was there in the trenches, amongst her soldiers, leading them, the first woman to ever serve in the British Army, the first one to rise to the rank of officer.

Every time you woke up from your fitful slumber, every time a wounded soldier was brought in for treatment, you prayed not to recognize her on the stretcher, not to see her cornsilk hair matted with blood underneath the helmet. One day your prayers went unanswered.

“Chief Nurse! Hurry! It’s the lieutenant-general!”

After all this time, her figure was still so achingly familiar to you as the litter bearer brought her in, her long limbs limp on the stretcher, soot and blood marring the uniform she was so proud of.

Up until now you had managed to avoid her, only catching glimpses of her when she came to visit the wounded, but now here she was, bare inches away from you. She was still beautiful, even with the inevitable traces of time and war. It took all of your strength not to reach out and brush your fingers against the soft skin of her jaw. You shouldn’t.

After all, the last words you had exchanged had not been the friendly sort.

“Will you at least promise me you’ll come back?” you had asked. She had already donned her uniform, and the coarse wool scratched your palm as you put your hand on her elbow.

“You know I cannot promise you that.”

“But I love you.”

Her face had hardened, as it always did when you told her how you felt. You had told yourself that she was simply unused to being loved. But a dark voice within you was starting to ask whether it was because she was ashamed of you, or frustrated with your clinginess. Whatever the reason, she never said those words back.

“You shouldn’t say those things so lightly.”

“Just because you refuse to accept my feelings for you doesn’t mean that they are not real.”

“You are young, but you were never naïve. This was never something that could last.”

You had been young at the time, true. You had never experienced heartbreak before. Even the simple act of breathing sent searing pain through your chest. Your eyes had filled with tears, and your mouth with rage.

“Is that all it was to you? Just something to keep you entertained between wars?”

She had not dared to answer you. To this day, you still wondered why. Was it because it had been more for her as well and she didn’t want to lie to your face, or was it because she didn’t want to admit that she, Captain Brienne of Tarth, paradigm of righteousness, had used you for your affection just for as long as she had needed a warm body?

You had been young at the time, and first love is never easily forgotten. Even if unrequited.

“Is God so unmerciful then?” The sudden sound of her voice in the silence of the officers tent almost made you drop the bandages you were carrying. You turned to her, wondering if she was growing delirious due to the high fevers she was running. But her eyes, wide and feverish though they were, were trained on you, with razor-sharp focus. “Have I not atoned for my past mistakes with my deeds? Why must He torture me with cruel visions?”

Oh.

She thought you were a fever dream, one sent to torture her. You pretended it didn’t hurt. It shouldn’t have, not as much as it did. Not even if she had been your first love.

Your only love, corrected a voice inside of you that sounded a lot like your younger self.

“Lieutenant-general, I am not a vision. I am merely the chief nurse. You should try to rest. You have been injured on the battlefield.”

“Is…is it truly you?”

“It is. But I am only here to treat your wounds, not to dig up the past.”

“How are you alive?”

“How is anyone alive these days? Luck, probably.”

“I thought you died in the Coventry bombing.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I sent you letters, and you never answered. I came over last year, but nobody could tell me anything about you. Our house was nothing but a pile of rubble. I thought…”

“Oh, is it our house now? I don’t recall you showing any particular attachment to it when you left.” She was surprised at your vitriol, you could see it in the way her deep blue eyes widened, and in the uncharacteristically hesitation in her answer.

“Darling, I-“

You suddenly felt ashamed of how easily her mere presence could drag out all of your pain, making you feel like that day on your doorstep, watching her walk away, her military boots crushing your heart with each step.

“There are no darlings here. It’s Chief Nurse if you need to address me. But right now, I don’t have time for idle chatter.”

You turned away from her, leaving her behind as she did to you so much time ago.

She found you some days later, as you were trying to enjoy the luxury of a short smoke break hidden behind the hospital barracks. She was still limping, but her skin had lost most of its sickly paleness, and she looked even more like the Brienne you used to know. The Brienne you used to love.

“How did you end up becoming a nurse?”

“I was told to do something useful with my life since I refused to marry. I did.”

“You…refused to marry?”

“Lieutenant-general, I hardly think…”

“Brienne. It’s Brienne to you. It’s always been.” You committed the mistake of looking up into her eyes, and instantly felt the irresistible pull they had on you. As if she had never left. You averted your gaze angrily and took a deep drag from the cigarette in your hands, trying to center yourself once again.

“What is your purpose here, Brienne?”

“I thought I had lost you, and I thought I would never be able to tell you. Seeing you here, alive, accomplished, breathtakingly beautiful, it…it felt like a second chance I never deserved to have.”

“Tell me what?”

“Not a day goes by that I don’t regret walking away from you. I’m sorry.”

The unexpectedness of the apology took you by surprise and you turned to her, only to find her much closer than you expected. The words you were thinking of saying died in your throat as you drowned in the maelstrom of feelings within her eyes. She hesitatingly reached a hand over to cup your cheek, as if afraid you’ll suddenly disappear, and her voice was low and broken with a heartache you instantly recognized. It was twin to your own.

“I love you. I always have. I’m sorry I’m only telling you now. I know it’s too late.”

Her eyes swam with tears, and her face was suddenly getting closer and closer. You reached with a hand behind her neck and pulled her even closer, whispering against her lips, as if it was a secret meant only for her and her alone.

“It’s not too late if we’re alive.”

Liked it? You can find all of my fics on my fanfiction masterlist!

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petterwass · 1 year

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This is just so cute! Vulcan reassuring Ceobe before her medical examination.

She really has fully adopted this wierd doggo

#Arknights #Vulcan #Arknights Vulcan #Ceobe #Arknights ceobe #Warfarin #Arknights Warfarin #Warfy #Medical examination #Tw:hospital

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jaspxr · 1 year

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𝘈𝘎𝘌𝘕𝘛 𝘏𝘖𝘛𝘊𝘏𝘕𝘌𝘙 𝘈𝘍𝘛𝘌𝘙 𝘏𝘖𝘜𝘙𝘚 - 𝘐𝘕 𝘛𝘏𝘌 𝘏𝘖𝘚𝘗𝘐𝘛𝘈𝘓

Sometimes, the day just…ends...

for @masterwords and her many many stories where she puts Hotch in the hospital - Happy Birthday, you wonderful woman! I am so lucky to be able to call you my friend!

#aaron hotchner #agent hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner edit #hotch edit #masterwords⚔#jasedit #criminal minds #cm edit #criminal minds edit #tw:hospital #tw:blood

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frenchmadelyn · 1 year

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@lukexxking

To say she was scared would be an major understatement. She was terrified. She chewed her lip standing outside the hospital door and tracing her fingers over the room number that she had jotted down. Her hands shaking before she heard someone behind her clear her throat. The nurse trying to get in to check on the man that she had learned to be her father recently. She licked her lips and nodded, getting out of the way. She wished she could walk in as easy as the nurse did, it took a beat... or two before she stepped in.

It was scary being there, hospitals were after all never fun and adding the pressure of meeting her biological father in one she was a little worried. So she stood back and watched the nurse work. Smiling at them before they left and a eerie silence filled the room for a second before she stepped forward, “you are Luke? Right? If not I’m so sorry I must have got the wrong number.” She said licking her lip before biting down on it and tapping the piece of paper to her hand, “umm if you are him, I know you don’t know me but uh..” She finally looked up, her eyes meeting his, “I think I’m your daughter.”

#lukexxking #tw:hospital

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senawashere · 27 days

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Tw under the cut

I have been in the hospital since 7 in the morning. As my distance vision problem increased, I made an appointment with the medical examiner, both for my eyesight and because I was having difficulty losing weight. First, a new doctor came to my eye examination and we did things I had never done before. Like eye drops, eye x-rays, etc. Then I went to talk to the internist and he asked me to have blood drawn, I did it and I was told that the results would come in 2 hours. I ate breakfast in 2 hours and was stuck alone. The problem was, I couldn't see up close because of the drops they dripped, so I couldn't look at my phone or read a book. My results were never what I expected. My vitamins were too low, my B12 was low, my insulin was low and I had a problem with my thyroid. Now they sent me for an ultrasound for my thyroid, that is, my throat, and then I had to take an allergy test. Now I'm going to have an ultrasound and I'm scared because the doctor said in a panic that he wanted an ultrasound. I hope it doesn't go badly.

#sena talks^#tw:hospital

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goodlucksnez · 2 years

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Basically Iz//uku gets impaled on a mission and the medics stitch him up and confine him to bed rest in the hospital, apparently someone felt so bad and sent him roses...what will the suffering Pro do??

TW:hospital background noise, moaning, hitching, sneezing, hold-backs (attempted)

Basically hurt/snz wav cause why not. -sorry i am not making as much content between work and health I am kinda tired all the time < 3---my birthday is in 7 days tho how crazy!!

All characters are 21+ Please do not re blog to non kink accounts

#sneeze #sneezy #snez #i keep sneezing #audio #snezaudio #sneezeaudio #bnha #bnhadeku #d/eku #sneezewav #snz wav #wav

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jupitercomet · 1 year

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hey bugs!

tw:hospitals

I just wanna say thank you bc i was put in the hospital a couple days ago and your works somehow? makes me feel better like mentally (I really don’t like being here I just wanna go home)

but that’s all I wanted to say, thank you :)

hi!

I obviously won't pretend to know what's going on, but I've had my fair share of hospital trips that weren't exactly my choice and it really isn't fun, so I hope that everything's okay (or getting there) and you're able to go home soon <3 in the meantime, I have quite a few blurbs I have to write these next couple days so I'll be thinking of you extra specially!

#tw hospital #what's up doc

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indouloureux · 1 year

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tw:hospitals

hello hello :))

I’ve literally missed you sooo much like it’s insane, things have been pretty crazy on my side considering i literally ended up in the hospital with pneumonia and then later my mom ended up in the hospital at the same time as me, but everything’s okay-ish, i guess but it’s a lot to take in and at a short period of time but I have a whole support system and feels so good to have that because before i didn’t really have any thing

But I hope everything’s okay with you :)) I loved you so much and I really did miss you and p.s I read literally most of your work when I was in the hospital when i literally had nothing to do and you helped so much for the time passing so thank you for that :) and literally ended up making a new tumblr account in the middle of this and also had my birthday, I also saw that you hit 10k?!? congrats! you deserve all of the love and appreciation in this world ❤️ I love you

your

-🎶

MY DARLING!! I'VE MISSED YOU

i'm glad you're okay now. and i totally understand how you feel.

everything's okay with me! trying to get through college, honestly. been so busy with life and everything i haven't found any time to write at all, nor search for my inspiration 😭 but i'm glad my fics has helped you!!! seeing that makes my heart warm, honey. AND BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

10k sounds so crazy too. and it's just unfortunate how i reached that milestone during the time where i completely lost all energy to write due to hectic schedules. i'll try to make it up!!

i love you the most

#🎶 baby #answered

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yuzurk · 4 years

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「 Family Portrait 」 ⇢ Reconnecting with lost roots ⇢ Yuzu having a long talk with her father

“ she wasn’t sure she really wanted to hear what he had to say. ”

[ tw: hospitals; heart attacks ]

standing in front of the door yuzu could feel her heart plummet down into her stomach. a heavy feeling of dread overcame her as she tugged on sungmin’s hand anxiously and swallowed heavily. her face still looked calm but inside the streamer was anything but calm.

her brother squeezed back encouragingly before slowly opening the door, tugging the female, who suddenly forgot how to walk properly, along with her to enter the hospital room their father was currently residing in. both their parents looked up when their children appeared before them and yuzu instinctively hid behind her brother, not mentally ready for the stares of judgement she was so used to receiving from them.

“yena...,” she heard her father’s voice, weak and hoarse, call out to her in a way she remembered from her childhood. there was worry and guilt but no judgement and it was enough to make her step forward just a little to at least give them a chance to look at her. suddenly she felt self-conscious with her pastel pink dyed hair and her casual gym clothes she had tugged on after practice before hopping into sungmin’s car to drive off to daegu straight away.

swallowing again she couldn’t bring herself to look at them and merely greeted them with a curt bow of her head. she could tell sungmin was conflicted himself and unsure how to proceed in this situation. it wasn’t until their father spoke again that the awkward silence was broken at last. “can I talk to my daughter alone for a second?” both brother and the mother looked at him, sungmin more alert than their mum.

“yena?” with all attention suddenly on her she felt like a trapped fly. what was she to say? no? she wasn’t sure she really wanted to hear what he had to say though. regardless of that she felt herself nod her head and slowly let go of sungmin’s hand. “I’m right outside, okay? Don’t worry,” she heard her brother whisper reassuringly, which helped to calm her down a little.

pulling out the chair her mother had been sitting on she took a seat instead while the other two walked outside, the click of the door behind them feeling like the tick to doom’s hour. she still couldn’t meet his eyes, feeling too shaken both by seeing him in such a way and suddenly being in his presence again.

the phrase “you’re no longer our daughter” thundered in her mind but it didn’t fit the image of the man laying in this bed right now. he seemed so fragile and weak, completely different to how she remembered him to be. he had always been loud, self-assured and confident; all traits that yuzu inherited from him. he was none of that now.

“yena...,” once again the gentleness of his voice startled her out of her thoughts, making her perk up in time to see him reach his hand out for her to take. hesitatingly she reached forward but pulled back halfway, lips pursed into a line.

“y’wanted t’talk... so talk.”

she could hear her father sigh tiredly but in understanding. if he thought he could undo so many wrongs just by trying to reach out like that, he was wrong. yuzu was glad he seemed to understand that too.

“first and foremost, I want to apologize to you and tell you how honestly sorry and utterly stupid and wrong me and your mother were to not believe you and even go as far as to disown you. we were horrible parents to you- no parents at all actually and that only because you didn’t fit our ideal imagination of a daughter,” he admitted. his daughter on the other hand, who had been wanting to hear these words for so long wasn’t sure how to feel about them or believe in their sincerity.

“so a tragic event changes yer point o’ view that drastically,” she countered in a sassy manner, unable to help the snarky comeback from slipping past her lips. rather than being scolded however, her father chuckled weakly.

“yeah, it does. it’s crazy isn’t it? when I was... when this whole attack was happening, all I could think of was that day when you just got into kindergarten and came home with twigs and leaves in your hair, your dress having a tear almost all across one side. your mother was in a frenzy, wondering what on earth you had done but all I could think of was how absolutely adorable you looked with your wide smile as you excitedly told us all about your adventures. I think that was the moment where I started doing a lot of things wrong... because rather than protecting you from your mother’s scolding, I let her cut you off and send you to your room, forbidding you to ever climb a tree again. you looked so confused and sad and disappointed that we didn’t share your excitement,” he explained while his daughter lowered her head, tears gathering in her eyes.

she too remembered that moment. “it didn’t stop me doe...,” she murmured and once again saw him hold his hand out to her through blurry eyes. “thank god it didn’t.” sniffing quietly she finally reached out herself and held his hand, not lifting her gaze even though both of them knew there was no point in hiding the fact she was crying.

“you’ve grown to such a fine and head strong, young lady. a modern one- and more up front than the korean society may be ready for, but one that I want to be openly proud of, one that I want to support in whatever she wants to pursue.” his voice was so soft and fatherly, just the way she remembered it from her childhood that she couldn’t help but sob, squeezing his hand in what she hoped wasn’t too strong. the last she wanted was to cause him more pain.

“dad...” the word felt foreign on her lips but so nice to say that she said it again while finally meeting his eyes. she was after all only a 20 year young girl, slowly becoming a woman, who still longed to have the support of her parents. when she unexpectedly was pulled forward by her father into a heart-felt hug, the girl let out the last pieces of resentment she held within and cried out the grief she had been holding inside over 15 years. she longed to forgive them and to be a whole family again even if they all knew it’d take time to get there again.

nuzzling against her father’s chest she felt 5 years all over again when he had carried her home after stumbling and injuring her knee. “I promise I won’t let you down again, my daughter. I love you, yena.”

smiling through the tears, the girl sniffed and closed her eyes. “you better!”

#solo;#rksungmin #(this is so long omg asdfg dun read this it's just development uwu)#tw:hospitals #tw:heart attack

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pencil-prince · 5 years

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“Subject Dóntia went into shock and didn't respond too any further testing after that...” . . . “It was the most gruesome thing I’ve ever seen.” (Day2:teeth)

#tw:blood #tw:teeth #tw:hospitals #tw:mouths #ask to tag #Oc:Dóntia #pencil draws #Gore Prompts #original character #im like actually really happy with this one asdfghj

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warcats-cat · 6 years

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Accident

A/N: Hey friends! It’s me again! So, I want to preface this one with MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS which will be posted just below this paragraph. This fic is about a car accident. Specifically, it is (roughly) the story of the accident I was in not too long ago. I’ve changed a few things to fit the characters and tried to fill in details that I don’t remember, but I was told about later. This is a coping fic; I won’t be offended if you don’t want to read it. However, as always, thanks so much to my amazing, wonderful, and super duper nice beta @ironwoman359 for everything she does and in general being a really cool person, and to my two best friends in the whole world @bleustatic and @radioactivecitylights for being with me through everything.

Trigger warnings for: Car Accident, panic attack, hospitals, medical talk, shock, trauma, minor injury, rude/uncaring hospital staff, talk if chronic medical conditions. If you would like me to tag anything else on this, Please PLEASE let me know. Thanks for reading! I love you all!

There was rain falling on his head, dripping onto his glasses, and making it harder to see.

“You’re going into shock, sweetheart.”

He was shaking all over. His ear was still ringing, and it hurt so badly.

“Can you tell me your name?”

He was trying to just remember how to breathe.

“I’m sorry.” He responded. “I didn’t see him.”

“It’s ok.” There was a woman sitting next to him. She had told him she was a nurse, but he couldn’t remember her name. “Accidents happen. That’s why it’s called a car accident. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Patton. Patton Hart.”

An umbrella was suddenly above him. He must have missed the other woman with him leaving to get it. Patton could hear sirens in the distance.

He hadn’t even seen the other driver. He had stopped and looked both ways. He had never seen him.

Patton could remember looking out the window as he turned, and the panic of realizing there was another car hurtling towards him in the rain. He could remember his foot pressing the gas as hard as he could, hoping in that split second for a miracle.

Patton could remember the split second in between, when he gripped the steering wheel as hard as he could and tucked his head down just slightly, not even consciously, as his car was sent spinning and finally landing.

Patton could remember the seconds after, dimly thinking that he had never known there was an airbag above his window, and that the one in the steering wheel hadn’t gone off. That his car was talking to him. That his left ear was burning, and ringing, and it felt like a gunshot had gone off right next to his face.

Patton could remember jumping out of his car and running over to the other driver, the only thing he could manage to say was to ask if he was ok. The other driver wouldn’t even talk to him.

Now he was sitting on the curb of a parking lot just off the road. There was a woman who apparently was a nurse talking to him. He was going into shock. He couldn’t stop crying.

“Could … could one of you please get the lamb from my car?” he asked quietly. He felt stupid as it came out of his mouth. An air freshener that doubled as a stuffed animal that Roman had bought him for some reason he couldn’t remember. He needed something in his hands. Maybe it would keep his brain and body from falling apart.

Logan.

Logan was still at work, and wouldn’t be home for at least another hour. But Logan would know what to do. What to say. Virgil was halfway across town. Roman was somewhere for an audition, and Patton was kicking himself for not being able to remember where.

“I need to call my housemate.” Patton told the nurse, as the stuffie-lamb was passed into his hands. At some point he had taken off his glasses, trying to keep them from getting more speckled with rain. He kept the lamb in one hand and wiggled his cell phone from his pocket with the other. His hands were shaking as he tried to dial, even using speed dial was difficult.

“Hello? Patton?” Logan’s voice started Patton’s crying again in full force.

“Logan I was just in a car accident.” The words rushed out of his mouth, pinched with his crying. “I didn’t even see the other driver. Oh my god. I don’t know what to do.”

“Patton you have to breathe. Are you alright?” Logan asked. His voice was tight, and he spoke quickly.

“My ear hurts. And my shoulder.” Patton felt like he was fixating on his ear. He had only just stopped holding onto it, in the same way a child holds onto a paper cut or a pained wrist.

“Did you speak with the other driver? Did you get his information?”

“No, I…” Patton didn’t know what to say. The other driver wouldn’t even talk to him, and kept loudly proclaiming that his back ‘kinda hurt, a little.’ Patton could hear sirens getting louder. “I don’t really know what happened. I didn’t see him. I was turning and I was fully stopped and I looked both ways twice and I swear I didn’t see him.”

“Patton, please, you need to try to breathe. Have the police gotten there? Are you still in the road?”

“No, they’re not here yet but I can hear them. There’s some ladies here with me.” Patton said. He gave the lamb another squeeze. The woman holding the umbrella was speaking with the other driver now, and taking down notes for Patton. When had that happened?

“That’s good. May I speak with one of them?”

Patton nodded in response. It wouldn’t occur to him until later that Logan couldn’t actually see him doing that. He pulled the phone just slightly away from his good ear. The left one had stopped ringing but still stung pretty badly.

“My housemate wants to talk to you. Is that ok?” Patton asked the nurse quietly. She smiled gently at him and gave an affirmative, and Patton passed over the phone.

As soon as the phone was out of his hand, there were too many people talking to him. There was a man he was fairly sure was a firefighter trying to ask him questions, and someone he hadn’t yet spoken with trying to interpret all of his answers to the fireman as answers to her, and other people making noise and the sounds of cars slowly being allowed to pass and it was all far too much.

He snapped, “Please there’s too many people and I can’t think!”

The fireman took that as an attack on him, and made a face and dismissive motion, and then Patton was tripping over himself to apologize. The nurse handed back the phone and smiled again.

“It’s alright, sweetheart; it’s ok to be overwhelmed.”

“Patton?” Logan’s voice sounded again on the phone. “I’m on my way home right now. Can you have them take you to Mercy Hospital when the ambulance arrives? I will meet you there as soon as I can. I will also call Virgil and Roman. Do you want me to stay with you on the phone?”

“No.” Patton said. His phone made a mid-call beep to tell him that someone was trying to get ahold of him. “I think someone else is trying to call.”

“Alright. It’s going to be ok, Patton. The important thing is that everyone is conscious and speaking. No one was seriously injured. I’m going to hang up now. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

Logan never said that unless something was wrong. If nothing was wrong, why had an ambulance been called? He hung up with Logan and was immediately greeted with a call from Virgil. “H-Hey, Virge.” He tried, but couldn’t help the shake in his voice.

“Pat? Patton are you ok? I got a text from Logan like twenty minutes ago that you were in a car accident?? Are you ok?” Virgil was almost as upset as Patton was. At least, he sounded that way. But Virgil was also prone to over-panicking, especially concerning his housemates. They often felt as though they were all each other had, and Virgil felt that loneliness the most keenly of the four.

“I’m scared.” Patton responded honestly. “I’m scared and I’m upset and I wish I had just gone home.”

“Don’t.” Virgil started. “You can’t do that, remember? You can’t stick on the what-if’s. If I can’t, you can’t.”

“I know that. But it’s hard.” Patton heard more sirens. The ambulance this time. He was thinking about the costs and insurance and his car and everything else their house of four was splitting between them that was now going to be significantly strained. “I think the ambulance is here. I have to go.”

“Ok, Pat. I’ll see you there.” Virgil’s voice was soft. The ambulance had arrived and Patton was being escorted onto it. He felt like he was running out of time. He had never been on an ambulance before. He toyed with the plastic clip on the lamb in his free hand.

“You’d better drive safe, mister.” It was automatic. Patton had always worried about his friends, his family, and always told them to drive safe. It was out of his mouth well before the irony of the statement registered with him. Virgil chuckled, and it was a little watery.

“I will. Always.” And with that he hung up. Patton was loaded into the ambulance. The person sitting in the back with him strapped him onto a rolling bed and looked miffed when Patton responded to the question of whether he needed anything with a request to retrieve his nearly-forgotten dinner. The rest of the ride was filled with only the noise of both medic’s radios reporting in and out and making noises that Patton couldn’t really make out.

As the ambulance drove on, Patton was hyper-aware of every bump and crack and tumble that passed under the wheels. His face was sticky and his nose was stuffed and he rubbed his thumbs along the soft fur of the lamb now clutched in both of his hands. He felt terribly unsafe as the ambulance made a wide turn onto the highway and his rolling bed rolled widely to one side before the medic caught the bed and held it in place. All at once the trip to the hospital was achingly long and passed in a blur. The what-if’s of his evening clogged his brain. His ear had finally stopped hurting.

The ambulance finally stopped at the emergency entrance, and he was being unloaded. His glasses were sitting in his lap with his phone, but when the doors opened he could still see someone just outside. Someone in loose black yoga pants and a red top, someone who had clearly been doing something entirely different just a half hour ago. Patton started to tear up again.

“Is that your brother?” the medic asked. Patton felt stupid and small all over again, and couldn’t even understand why.

“No, he’s my housemate. But he might as well be my brother.”

The medic didn’t respond, but Roman walked over to the bed, and once again, Patton was told to breathe. Roman walked alongside the bed as it was pushed in through the maze of hallways and doors.

“Lean back, Padre. Relax. You’re ok.” He said. Patton hadn’t even realized he was forcing himself to lean up. He let his shoulders and head lay back against the slightly inclined bed and watched the ceiling as it passed above him. People were talking. Probably talking to him. But as he tried to lean up again, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, closer to his collarbone than the forming bruise and strained muscles. “Easy. Just lay back, ok? You’re ok. Logan and Virgil will be here in just a few minutes.”

Patton tried to lay back again. He fiddled with the lamb. He was pulled into a hospital room and the bed was lowered, and he had to sit up to move off the ambulance’s bed and onto the hospital’s bed. There were too many beds, quite frankly, and not a single one of them comfortable.

The hospital’s bed, at least, was inclined better, so he felt like he was sitting up and could see everyone. Roman sat in one of the chairs next to him, politely smiling at the nurses, while they worked to confirm Patton’s name, date of birth, etc. Patton was given a plastic bracelet with a barcode and finally they left.

Finally, Patton was alone.

He couldn't help himself, he started crying again, and Roman moved to the bed and took Patton carefully in his arms for a hug. It was awkward, but it helped and Patton finally started to feel grounded.

And, of course, Roman’s phone began buzzing in his pocket right then. “Ah, the others are here. I’ll be right back to show them in, ok?”

Patton almost didn’t want to let him go, but he watched as Roman left and fiddled with the lamb and wormed his own cell phone back into his pocket, and then wormed his wallet out to give a passing nurse his insurance hard.

Logan all but stormed into the room, taking up a spot close to Patton’s feet after giving him a one-armed hug, bumping his left shoulder on accident. Roman came in after with Virgil not far behind. Virgil’s face was pinched, his upper lip curled slightly as he looked up and forced himself to breathe through his nose.

He’s scared. He’s been scared. It’s starting to hit all four of them.

Roman pulled him aside slightly; not out of the room, but away from his first position just a few inches from the foot of Patton’s bed. Roman took Virgil by the shoulders and looked into his eyes.

“Look. He’s fine. He’s fine, and he’s awake, and he’s talking. He’s gonna be ok. We’re all gonna be ok, Virge.”

Virgil swallowed hard and moved over to Patton’s right side, and stood there for a minute. He leaned over and gently pressed his forehead against Patton’s. It was affectionate and gentle, and Patton reached up with his good arm and wrapped it around Virgil’s shoulders to pull him closer, because they were both still scared out of their minds. But they could finally start to relax.

The four spent the next three hours in the hospital just waiting. Patton’s request to use the restroom was met favorably. His request to eat his dinner was met with an angry nurse loudly and rudely reminding him that he is in a hospital and was in a car accident and ‘if you’re only worried about eating right now then you shouldn’t have come to the hospital in the first place.’

Patton tried not to cry again as he explained that he hadn't had anything since early this morning, and his medical record did show a condition induced by stress and low blood sugar, and he didn't want to faint on top of everything else. The nurse left in a huff. The doctor came in to ask if he wanted anything to eat or drink. The doctor returned with apple juice, just in case.

Virgil was the only one who remained standing through everything. Maybe he just couldn't make himself sit. Patton was sure that, if their positions were reversed, he would have done the same thing. Roman sat in a chair to his left. Logan was sitting in a chair at his feet, and right next to the door. Patton could feel himself starting to relax as the fear wore off and he continued to be surrounded by his family.

Roman had to tell him, gently, to stop obsessing on what-if’s and maybes, saying that they would only eat him alive in the end. Roman was right, of course, but Patton couldn't stop. He didn't want to be there, in that moment. He wanted to be at home, talking about his day at work, and looking forward to tomorrow, and listening to the others talk about whatever they did today, and seeing their happy faces.

Instead, everyone’s faces are pinched, and the room is largely silent.

They sat in the hospital for three hours and finally, the doctor came in with papers. One for insurance. One for the bill for their copay. One for work tomorrow, in case he wakes up and doesn’t want to go in. (His boss had already called, frantically, and told him that he would ‘not be coming in tomorrow for any reason because you need to rest.’) There are other papers, but Logan took them all, likely to keep Patton from worrying.

Someone offered Patton a wheelchair for his walk out to the main exit where Roman’s car was. Roman would be the one driving him home, and then the duty of rides to and from work and other places would be split. Patton declined the wheelchair. There were other people who probably needed it a lot more than he would. Still, Virgil took his good arm and carefully walked alongside Patton all the way to Roman’s car, and didn't let go until Patton was seated in the driver’s seat. Virgil pressed his forehead against Patton’s again, and Patton gave him a little kiss on his nose.

“I’ll see you at home, kiddo.” He couldn't say ‘drive safe’ again. He didn't know why he couldn't.

Logan comes over next, and gave Patton another gentle hug, carefully wrapping his right arm under Patton’s left to avoid the bruising. He said nothing, but that was ok. Logan’s eyes gave the impression that his brain was running a marathon. The hug said everything that needed to be said.

Roman got into the driver’s seat as Logan and Virgil went to find their own cars and head home. Patton pulled the seatbelt across his chest as Roman started the car, already buckled in. Patton looked out the window the entire time. Roman had turned the radio off. The drive was silent save for the sounds of the road.

Patton could feel the car move. The road was familiar; the one he took nearly every day to work, and back-and-forth from the craft store, and some old friend’s houses, and in general when he would drive. He’s never noticed all the cracks and bumps under the wheel before. He’s never noticed the noises that the tires make against the asphalt. He’s never noticed anything other than the cars around him as he drives, and the path ahead that he has come to know like the back of his hand.

In that moment, however, those were the only things he could focus on; the cracks and the potholes and the bumps. Every turn picked up the pace of his breathing, just for a moment. Every car that passed on the two-lane road was the sole object of his focus until it was past once again. The road was dark in the evening light, and the blinding headlights of other cars were, mercifully, few and far between.

He’s never had trouble driving before. Now he sat wondering how long it would be before he had that comfort back.

They arrived home in the blink of an eye; Logan and Virgil already there. Patton walked upstairs to his bedroom almost like a zombie. He dressed for bed, and took his medicine, and laid his glasses on his nightstand mechanically. He had carried the lamb up all the way to his room, and now it sat there on his desk. He went over to grab it and laid back down, holding it tightly.

Patton cried himself to sleep, confused and scared and exhausted.

He never saw the other driver.

He should have gone straight home from work.

120 notes · View notes

aj-rpsss · 6 years

Text

Had to bring my daughter into the ER, it’s gonna be a long night.

#aj speaks #out of cookies #tw:hospitals

5 notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 2 years

Text

but if you send for me, you know i’ll come

and if you call for me you know i’ll run

characters: shigaraki tomura, dabi

genre: bittersweet, kinda fluffy, kinda angsty

notes: this is the epilogue for my break my bones but act as my spine series!! and, with this, the main series is officially done!!! wow, i actually can’t believe it. this series genuinely means so much to me; it’s so special, so personal, and i truly appreciate every single person who has read the entire thing. thank you so much for sticking with it!! i love you!!! and, as always, please heed the warnings below! stay safe everyone | title cred: old money by lana del rey

warnings: no smut but still 18+ minors do not interact, discussion of mental illness, an altered (and kind of unrealistic) inpatient program in the psychiatric ward of a hospital, visitations to the psychiatric ward at the hospital, talks of medications used to treat mental illness (non-specific), mentions of doctors and nurses, implied poly relationship, implied cheating (and confession of such), brief discussion of fucking and implied explicit audio recordings being received, a fear of tense rickety relationships being triggering, codependency, tomura’s father is one again referred to as The Boss, daddy kink without the kinkiness

words: 3.9k

part one ⋆ part two ⋆ part three ⋆ part four ⋆ part five ⋆ epilogue ⋆ series masterlist

synopsis:

You always smell like him, every single time you emerge.

It only hammers that spear piercing his heart further into incessantly pulsating flesh, saturated with guilt and remorse, with longing and desire, stinging the wound as it burrows into the organ.

That aroma will always smell like home to him; the only home he’s ever known, the only home he’s ever been a part of creating, of maintaining, built brick by conscientious brick, mortar infused with graceful tiger orchid and saccharine toffee gluing together blocks of sweet hickory and spicy nicotine, warm and waiting for the final element to return back to the two of you, to complete it.

The Tokyo Metropolitan Matsuzawa Hospital is a mammoth, boxy building, all slabs of white concrete and glistening glass, bordering the edges of Setagaya City, just before it morphs into Suginami.

You know the grounds intimately by now, could navigate them with your eyes closed if you had to, having spent many hours strolling among the grassy knolls and shaded stone pathways, sheltered by the large oaks stretched and arched across the landscape, with Daddy’s large hand clasped firmly in your own, always babbling on about how amazed you are by the sheer quietness of the place, how remarkable it is that the sounds and bustles of the busy city can’t seem to penetrate the thick shrubbery and vegetation shrouding the hospital, lending to its tranquil nature.

Humming in time to the gentle pat-pat-pats of your shoes against the manicured rock, you allow your mind to drift, to reflect, as your feet carry you towards the far end of the structure, a route you travel three times a week, directions ingrained in the tissues of your brain, nothing more than muscle memory at this point.

Genuinely, you hate to admit it, but you had been pleasantly surprised by just how fast Tomura went from unwilling and difficult to compromising and cooperative.

I told you so, Dabi had bragged with a playful sneer, index finger booping your nose. Tomura’s smart, Tomura adapts—I knew he’d figure out the system, the quickest way to get out of there, within weeks of being committed.

You knew that, too, knew how clever and crafty your Daddy was, knew he’d get the hang of the whole thing and conform to the exactly what the situation necessitated to ensure his release as soon as possible. You did.

You just didn’t think he’d be able to reign in his feelings so rapidly, so efficiently, when you had never seen him do anything like it before.

That’s because you’ve only ever seen him with you, Dabi had rolled his eyes. You don’t know how he can get when he works, when he’s got an idea—a motive, a goal—hatching to life in his skull.

You suppose that’s true, as well. Tomura has always considered himself King of the World—and for the most part, he was—and despite his explosive, hair trigger anger and innate brattiness (a result of rarely being told no in his life), he was intelligent and sly, cunning and practical, always devising a new plan to get him exactly what he wants, failure and you being the only two things to send his emotions awry. And yet, you can’t help but wonder if this entire incident—episode—has knocked him down a few pegs, has humbled him just a little.

Dabi doubts it, but you think it might be a real possibility; Tomura had already surprised you once before, near the start of his treatment, when it had been decided that you and Dabi would confess to your sins.

He had been astonishingly calm, when you had told him about it over a year ago, fingers twisting into uncomfortable knots and crystal dewdrops decorating your smooth cheeks, stammered words fractured with guilt, remorse weighing on your tongue.

It’s alright, he knows, he had said, beckoning you over with an easygoing wave of his hand. He had an inkling, he had told you, tone tender with confounding clemency, a merciful little smile adorning his face. He’s glad you told him.

It hasn’t been explicitly discussed since then—not with you, at least, though you’re unsure what Tomura and Dabi speak about during their private weekly phone calls—but you’re not quite sure it needs to be, at this point. It just…is.

Tomura doesn’t like to talk about that time, those harrowed, anguishing months, and you and Dabi had collectively decided that it was best to spare him from the details, unless he one day specifically asks for them. As far as you were all concerned, knowing something happened, and that something is still happening, seems to be enough; there’s no need to detail the past, not now, not anymore.

Like clockwork, you visit, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, never once missing a day in the whole year and a half he’s been committed, routinely climbing that white linoleum staircase to the west wing—Tomura’s wing, now—the stairwell illuminated by bright, organic sunshine, streaming in through the massive glass panels that line the walls, floor to ceiling.

You don’t kid yourself into thinking that Tomura doesn’t have special privileges—special dwellings just for him, special visiting hours extended and increased in frequency—knowing well by now the type of things riches and prestige can buy you; knowing well by now just how powerful a man like Tomura’s father is.

Not that you’re complaining.

Today is a Monday. Monday’s, you think, are the best. Because Monday’s are when you get to see him after two full days of being restricted, of not seeing him, which makes Friday’s, your last visit before those two full days of yearning, a specific type of longing procuring an ache in your chest—dull and throbbing at the core of your soul, radiating a painful pining throughout your limbs, infused in your blood and flesh and bones that can only be cured by your Daddy’s presence—the worst.

Beams of gold filter through the large bay windows, catching in the delicate lace of the curtains and casting intricate shadows across the upholstery of the plush window-seat cushions. They dance across the fabric, dainty and graceful as a breeze twines itself around the thin drapes, an ever-changing myriad of shapes swaying elegantly to their own silent beat, a special song played by the wind just for them.

But their beauty is nothing compared to the man standing in front of you. No, he’s a piece of art all on his own.

Strands of pure silver, having lost their boyish blue tinge during Tomura’s acute phase, frame his temples, bangs pushed back from his forehead in thick waves, leftover tufts curling around his cheekbones and highlighting those brilliant rubies, shimmering in the late afternoon sunlight.

Every time you see him, he looks better, you swear to God.

Knitted cream cashmere envelopes his chest, stretched across prominent shoulder blades and blanketing his chest in its knotty embrace, intricate plaits of wool stretched perpendicular along the expanse of his torso, a sharp collarbone peaking out from beneath the braided neckline.

You’re powerless to stop the soft giggle that bubbles past your lips as your eyes continue their journey down his form, noting the way his charcoal trousers clash with the fluffy blue bunny slippers adorning his feet—an impromptu gift from Dabi, which he had sworn Tomura had to own.

Finally, your gaze flits back up to meet his, chapped lips still quirked up into that small, knowing, painfully familiar smile, and then you’re running, colliding against him with such force that he sways on the heels of his feet, the impact knocking a fond laugh from his chest.

His embrace is soft and plush—not as much as it used to be, before the episode, before his muscle had melted off his bone, dissolved by delirium, but enough to be comforting, to be remindful.

Inhaling deeply, your chest swells against his, saturating your lungs with his unique scent—fresh summer linen and sweet-sour lemon and the ghost of sandalwood cologne, clinging to all of his fabrics—perfusing your organs in a saccharine embrace.

“I missed you,” you whimper into him, fingers curled in his thick sweater. “So much,”

“It’s only been two days,” he teases, though his arms are wrapped around your waist tightly, crushing you to his body, warm and secure, home.

“Doesn’t matter, don’t care,” you retort simply, nuzzling into his sternum. “It’s always two days too long,”

A chuckle pries its way past his lips and he nods, because it’s true, because you’re right, giving you one final squeeze before finally releasing, large palm skimming down your bare arm to lace your fingers together, leading you towards your favourite seat, one of those opulent little nooks nestled against a large window.

In the stark summer rays, his eyes look almost rosy, glittering jewels encrusted in flakey flesh and ivory bone, an eternal sunset etched into his irises—corals and cherries bleeding into salmons and scarlets, barely dimmed by the slight mist cast across his gaze by his prescribed medications.

And, God, you fucking love him.

It’s hard to believe he isn’t boiling in that heavy Aran sweater and those woollen slacks, body draped with a warm quilt of sunlight, but you know he’s still having trouble eating, even after his ceaseless complaints about the bland food served here had earned him the right to a personal chef—a donation, The Boss had called it, to the hospital and its patients; his way of reassuring them that this was not just for his son, as if they’d ever believe that.

A mild gust drifts in through the open window, playing with the tendrils of his hair, those loose tufts that contour his bright eyes, ruby stare still directed out the window, surveying the grounds.

And you wait. You always wait, the pads of your fingers tapping lightly against the back of his hand, idly tracing the veins and the bones, until he’s ready to begin.

“So, they…” he stops, clearing his throat, shifting his jaw, blinking twice. “They, uh, they put me on new meds—more meds,”

“Oh?” The question is soft, gentle and unobtrusive, an invitation for him to continue, should he wish to divulge.

“I don’t like them,” he frowns after a moment of silence, nose scrunching in distaste, eyes drifting to the tangled mess of hands, cradled tenderly in your lap. “They make me feel…foggy,”

Concern tugs at the corners of your lips, a tender thumb rubbing soothing circles into his knuckles. “Did you let the doctors know?”

Nodding, he looks away, front teeth nibbling at the dry skin of his lips, tugging thin pieces free, blood immediately pooling in their absence. “They said they’d lower the dosage, and to ‘give it some time’,”

“Sometimes the side effects become more manageable, right?” you ask, and he nods again. “You can always stop and try something new if they don’t subside,”

His head quirks slightly, a poor imitation of agreement, and you can sense his irritation, seething just beneath his skin, a powerful aura that embraces him like a cloak, or the familiar arms of a much beloved friend, cracking around him like strikes of crimson lightning, that ebb and flow, pop and fizzle, with each of his measured breaths.

You can see it: in the way his eyes narrow and twitch, in the way his nostrils flare and his lips press together, forming a sharp hard line, in the way his molars grind together and his jaw flexes under the force of the action.

And there he is, the man you met all those years ago, the man who’s brutally influential and maliciously insatiable, the man who gets what he wants with nothing more than a tilted head and a sharp smirk; only a mere wisp before he’s gone again, reigned into the recesses of Tomura’s chest, shackled behind a cage of bone.

“I just—” he begins after a moment, exhaling harshly to calm the tremble lacing his tone, eyes slipping shut. “I’m sick of—of all of this,"

And it’s difficult to watch—difficult to watch him cycle through meds in constant search of a cocktail that works efficiently, paired with the least side effects; difficult to watch the way this illness evolves to fight against him, his own mind sprouting claws and tearing through the manufactured solace encasing his brain; difficult to watch him stumble through pitfalls of suffering and despair, to dig himself out armed with his own determination and the unwavering love of his babies, just to slip back into it again.

It’s a long process, the road to getting better—he knows it is. It’s a lifelong process, managing this illness, learning how to cope, how to control and care for it all—he doesn’t need you to tell him that.

It doesn’t mean it sucks any less.

“I know,” you whisper, working hard to keep your voice light, to keep from too much sympathy leaking into your tone, taking his other abandoned hand between your own and cradling it like it’s precious. “But you’re doing really well, Daddy. And we’re all so proud of you,”

It’s evident that he has more to say, but you don’t push, watching with a sinking, tar encrusted heart as he shakes his head a little—to deny your statement, or to void his mind, you aren’t entirely sure. Clearing his throat, his fingers tighten around yours, and he changes the subject.

“So. How is he?”

And that, that manages to restore your smile.

“He misses you a lot,” you tell him honestly, both hands squeezing his. “A lot. As always. You know, he’s a bit like a lost puppy without you,”

Tomura snorts a little at that, but you can still see the melancholy hidden behind that thin veil of amusement. “I believe it,” he says softly. “You can tell him I miss him, too,”

“I will,”

A beat of silence passes, and it’s nice, it’s pleasant, blanketing the two of you in each other’s cozy presence, comfort accentuated by the toasty afternoon sun.

“The nurse, um, the nurse says that maybe next week he can come up with you?” It’s supposed to be a statement, but it’s phrased as a question, imbued with the inquiry for your opinion.

“That’s wonderful news, Daddy,”

And your voice is so soft, so warm, so heart-wrenchingly sincere that it hurts, twinkling sparks emitted from the ball of fire roiling in your chest scathing his skin as they pour from your glimmering gaze and shimmering smile.

But it’s beautiful, it’s comforting and familiar, and he welcomes the sting readily, basking in the way your buzz bubbles his brain and boils his blood.

“Yeah, I—” swallowing thickly, his grip on your hand tightens, crimson eyes looking away, stare darting across the large rolling hills of jade, cushioned by dense pine. “I want to see him. I—I’m ready, I think,”

“He’s gonna be so happy to hear it,” you giggle, and it’s hard to keep from gushing, it’s hard to suppress the wide smile excitement carves into your face, saturated in adoration and admiration, in hope and honour, a special type of pride reserved just for him, just for your Daddy. “He says the phone conversations just aren’t the same,” you pause, little fingers moving to brush silver strands from his brow, tips tracing the curve of his face, eyes following their languid movement. “I agree. It’s not the same,”

Tomura nods, giving you a small smile, before that pleasant stillness drapes your forms again, enveloping you in its amicable embrace.

“I’m nervous,” he whispers after a while, so quiet you barely hear it at all, though his hand is gripping yours with such strength that it procures dark fingerprints of periwinkle painted across your flesh, the nubby pads of his unoccupied fingertips rubbing against the thin skin of his wrist, chafing streaks of red against ivory, his nails trimmed meticulously short.

And it feels like old times again, like those lazy afternoons and late evenings where Tomura would disclose all of his fears and anxieties to you, all of his hopes and dreams, sentiments peppered between kisses and whispered into your hair, or your neck, or your lips.

It’s still true, that you’re the only one he truly feels comfortable talking about such vulnerabilities with; you always have been, you always will be. But that doesn’t discount the progress he’s made in his year and a half spent in this building, that doesn’t discredit the great strides he’s made in getting better, the astonishing advancements he’s made in cooperating with his doctors.

“That’s understandable, Daddy,” you respond softly, gentle fingers beginning to tenderly uncurl his own, stiff and rigid, pressing lovingly into the joints to relax them, an instinctive reflex by this point. “But you’re making fantastic progress—no, really, you are, Tomura—and this is the next step, right?”

Shakily, he hums, fingers twitching against your palms, a phantom urge to scratch again.

“And if you feel like you’re ready then…” you trail off, shrugging a little, a gentle thumb running across bony knuckles. “Then you’re ready,”

“But what if I—What if he—I’m worried it might—” chapped lips pull into a deep frown, forehead crinkling with the effort, and he looks away with a scoff, body beginning to quiver with infuriated annoyance. “That he might, y’know,”

“Trigger it?”

He grunts out an affirmative, accompanied by a single jerk of his head.

“It’s okay, if he does,” you tell him, sure to keep your voice calm and vindicated. “He isn’t going to be upset with you, or angry, if that happens.”

“I really want to see him,”

“So we’ll give it a try. And if it isn’t the right time, then we’ll wait,” you pause, allowing your words time to snuggle into his brain, to soothe his anxieties and smooth his worries. “We’ll figure it out, together, the three of us,”

“The three of us,” he murmurs. “Like the sound of that,”

“Yeah,” you murmur, bringing his hand to your lips and embellishing it with chaste pecks, speaking through your kisses. “Me too,”

It isn’t long after your pact that the nurse moves to retrieve you, gently uttering that your visiting time is up before retreating, allowing you some privacy for your temporary goodbyes.

“I can’t wait to—can’t wait to fuck you,” Tomura breathes into your hair, nuzzling against your scalp as he presses your body to his. “Honestly, princess, I’m going fuckin’ crazy,”

“It’s been way too long,” you murmur into his chest, nostalgia and longing stinging your eyes, voice high with a perpetual whine. “First thing when you get out,” looking up, your gaze searches his face, almost urgent, frantic, in its endeavours. “Promise me,”

He chuckles a little, pulling back slightly to stare at you, his soft laugh conjuring a bought of pure sunshine, embellished with pretty rubies and silver ribbon, to bloom in your chest, fizzing and warm as it furls into a ball and sends warmth radiating through your veins.

Holding up his pinky between your chests, he nods. “Promise,”

“Pinky promise,” you giggle, twining your pinky around his and squeezing.

“In the mean time, keep sending me those recordings,” he commands with a devilish smirk, voice dropping an octave.

“You betcha, Daddy,” you wink, precious bubbles of shy giggles frothing in your throat. “See you on Wednesday,”

“Looking forward to it, baby,”

✰ ✰ ✰

In the hospital parking lot, Dabi leans against the drivers door of his gleaming Audi, lips wrapped around a cigarette, the worn carton of Marlboros discarded on the hood of the car, veiny cardboard box already half-empty.

Perking up when he sees you bounding towards him, he quickly removes the cigarette from his mouth, exhaling smoke out his nose just in time to catch you in one of his arms, laughing a little as your body curls into his, a leg slotted between his thighs.

The zest of lemon, intertwined with the scent of fresh linen and garnished with the slightest whiff of expensive cologne, invades his throat, thick and sticky as it coils into a tight ball and lodges itself between the gummy walls.

You always smell like him, every single time you emerge.

It only hammers that spear piercing his heart further into incessantly pulsating flesh, saturated with guilt and remorse, with longing and desire, stinging the wound as it burrows into the organ.

Finally, his grasp loosens, but you stay clinging to him, leaning back just enough to glance up at his face.

“So.” Dabi clears his throat a little, swallowing past Tomura's scent. “How is he?”

Pressing your lips together, you suppress a small smile at the thought of their similarity, rocking a little on the balls of your feet as tingling excitement races the blood in your veins.

“He wants to see you next week,”

“What?” he breathes out through a disbelieving smile, tinged with hope, the corners of his mouth twitching as his arms slacken for a moment, then tighten again. “He—Really?”

“Mhmm,” you nod. “And I can’t wait for him to get a look at your ridiculous hair,” giggling, you reach up to run your fingers through blended ink and ivory, tousled tufts that flow into one another like soft waves in a monochromatic sea, his half grown out roots melding with the onyx dye.

“Shut up,” Dabi shoots back, but he’s leaning into your touch, neck tilting down and aiding in your ministrations. “You love my hair,”

“I love everything about you, I think,”

“You think?”

“Mmm,” you hum in contemplation, and Dabi rolls his eyes, squeezing you to his form.

“So, he’s, uh, he’s still doing well, then?”

You nod. “Been keeping up that stability over the past few months now. Actually,” you begin, and Dabi just can’t help but melt into you a little, his own gaze softening and grin stretching as your eyes glitter with anticipation, a breathless smile plastered across your face, wobbling with elation, words stuffed full of excitement, letters practically bursting at the seams with precious giggles. “They said—They said if he’s able to continue maintaining it that he might be discharged in time for Christmas!”

Dabi laughs again, a large hand moving to cup your cheek, cradling it in a rough palm like its his most cherished possession, sapphire shining with mirth.

“Well,” he murmurs, knocking his forehead against yours, noses nudging intimately. “We better make it the best damn Christmas he’s ever fucking had then, huh?”

“We will,” you nuzzle into him, the promise nothing more than a delicate wisp of breath caressing his face. “We will.”

And driving home, back to the small flat Dabi had purchased for the two of you—temporary and close to the hospital, nothing more than a placeholder until Tomura returns, until you can really, truly begin your lives together—with Dabi’s hand on your thigh and Tomura’s scent in your hair, you allow that hesitant hope to blossom, glowing and beautiful, embroidered with the prettiest sapphires and the most magnificent rubies, swathed in brilliant silver and striking onyx, rooting at the very core of your soul as it begins to grow.

It’s been a long journey thus far, with much education to be gleaned and growth to be had on all three fronts. And even though it’s just the beginning, even though the road ahead is rich with twists and turns, ornamented with thick thorns and sharp sparks, none of it frightens you—none of it frightens any of you at all; not when you have each other.

Yes, it will be difficult and yes, it will be painful, and yes, there will be tears and trials, clashes and conflicts, but it’ll all be worth it, it’ll always be worth it, you just know it will.

Because the three of you will survive it.

Together.

#dabi x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #dabi x reader x shigaraki #WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH WOW #wowowowow hehehehe #this is totally insane i'm actually crying!!! it's really bittersweet to end the main series!!!#i hope you enjoy!!!!!#i love u lots!!!!#tomura's stay at the hospital is skewed and wildly inaccurate because he's rich!!!#tw:mental illness #tw:medication #tw:cheating #tw:hospital #tw:daddy kink

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