#and before she went back to school i felt itchy going to work because i like my coworkers but theyre not my close friends ya know | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

outerbankies · 3 years

Note

You know how teenager rafe is gonna just be spiralling over reader going to prom with someone else? I’m going to cry cause like he’s a baby and he doesn’t know why he has these feeling for this one person that he’s always kind of orbited around?? And he knows she’s it for him but only deep down cause he’s trying to figure so much out and how could you know who you’re going to end up with at the age of 17 let alone 10 or 12 but he’s always known and aaaaah imagine that kind of love

an angsty little pre-series prom blurb partially inspired by this ^ ask that made me spiralll. thanks anon i hope u like this!

—

new light blurb: before we knew — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

obv takes place pre-series in high school! referenced in part 1

warnings: underage drinking

“Top, it’s not fucking funny.”

“It’s kinda fucking funny, Y/n/n. Like, way more than a little.”

Rafe had ditched the last fifteen minutes of statistics when he finished his test early today, and he’d been messing around on his phone for ten minutes waiting for the rest of you to come and get in Topper’s Jeep so you could all go to lunch off-campus today.

Rafe stands up straight from where he’d been leaning against the hood when he hears your voice approaching, his smile matching yours once you see him. “Hey, Rafe. How did your stats test go?”

“Good, hey, Y/n. What’s not funny?” he asks, opening the passenger side door for you before sliding into the backseat behind you.

“Oh, get this, Rafe,” Topper says, laughing. You just groan again, clicking your seatbelt on. “Griffin is gonna ask Y/n to prom. Tomorrow.”

Rafe blanches. “Griffin?”

He knew Griffin thought you were hot. Certainly had to hear it enough times in the pool at practice every day. Rafe always found himself biting back a remark—well, almost always. As captain, Rafe was able to tell everyone to run another play whenever he felt like it. The extra exertion in the pool was nothing compared to having to tread water and hear his teammate talk about you like that.

But even after all of that, he still had no idea Griffin had the balls to actually make a move on you. Because Rafe could tell you’d seriously rather die than ever give Griffin the time of day. And Griffin had been pursuing you without luck for months, even though you’d been trying to gently show you weren’t interested. Half of the time, Rafe wished you'd just tell him to fuck off.

The other half of the time, Rafe was considering just doing it for you.

Rafe clears his throat after his outburst, a finger digging into a hole in his jeans. “How do you know?”

“He just told me in PE,” Topper says. “He said he has this huge banner, and speakers, and he’s gonna do it at lunch right in the middle of the quad—”

“Topper.” You cut him off a bit more seriously this time; Rafe can hear the shift in your tone. You've always hated being anywhere close to the center of attention, getting embarrassed by the smallest things others wouldn’t even think about. If Griffin actually knew anything about you the way Rafe does, he’d know you wouldn’t like something big and flashy. “Can you stop?”

“Hey, cut it out, Top,” Rafe is saying immediately. Topper just rolls his eyes, but Rafe doesn’t care. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Rafe,” you say, smiling over your shoulder at him. “M’fine.”

“Do you want me to tell Griffin to—”

Topper laughs from the driver’s seat, clearing his throat to cover it up when you look over at him. You look back at Rafe, and his heart breaks at the worry in your face. “Don’t, Rafe.”

“Are you gonna say yes?”

“No,” you immediately laugh, looking at him like the idea is preposterous.

“Oh c’mon, Y/n/n. Can’t say no to him in front of all those people,” Topper teases. “And where the fuck is Kelce? I’m starving.”

“You’re right,” you sigh. “I don’t wanna embarrass him. I’ll just find him after school today and tell him I’m going with Kelce.”

Topper’s eyes widen, Rafe catches it in the rearview mirror before he hurriedly looks away. Rafe clears his throat, settling back into his seat from where he’d been leaning into the front space to talk with you. “You—uh, are you actually going with Kelce?”

“Yeah,” you nod, distracted by your phone. “We said we’d go together if we didn’t find dates. Kelce didn’t really wanna ask anyone after what happened last summer. And after nearly being set up with Top last night, I’m about ready to throw in the towel.“

Rafe looks to his friend that sits in the driver’s seat, who's looking straight at his lap, the back of his neck bright red. “Wait, you two?”

“It was just our parents, dude. Went to dinner at the club last night and our moms brought it up,” Topper mumbles. You giggle at the idea, completely unaware of the energy in the car right now.

“Yeah, sorry, Thornton. But no thanks. You and Emily should be really cute, though,” you say earnestly, patting his shoulder.

Topper just stares straight ahead. “Thanks, Y/n/n.”

“And then this thing with Griffin—I’m just so over the idea of finding an actual date at this point,” you sigh. “Plus, I know Kelce won’t put up a fight about the color scheme. I’m thinking like, aqua. Or maybe pink? I don't think I'd look good in gold.”

You'll look good in absolutely anything, and Rafe will just have to watch you from across the floor of the Island Club, while Kelce twirls you around the dance floor or holds you close during a slow dance.

The guy in question opens the car door and slides into the backseat next to Rafe right then, sighing as he slides his backpack off. “Sorry guys, coach stopped me in the hall. Where are we eating?”

Rafe glares at him.

“I want a smoothie,” you declare from the front seat.

“Fine with me,” Topper nods, pulling out of his parking spot. “Guys?”

“Can we go to that place with the deli next door? I’m so hungry,” Kelce says.

“Yeah, I like their açaí bowls,” you say, twisting around to look at Rafe one more time. He must not be able to hide his emotions as much as he thought, because your smile drops when you see him. “Rafe? Does that sound good?”

He turns his body to look out the window, eyes flicking back to yours one last time. “Not hungry.”

—

Rafe meets Topper and Kelce at the dock later that night, the three of them intending to get drunk and maybe take Topper’s boat out if they felt like it.

Kelce is already there by the time Rafe pulls up, drinking a beer with Topper while they laugh at something on his phone.

And Rafe paces right down the dock, snatches Kelce’s phone out of his hand, and pushes him off the platform and into the water.

“Rafe, dude,” Topper says, immediately pushing him back by his chest.

“What the fuck?” Kelce sputters, spitting out water as he surfaces and climbs the ladder back up. “What is your fucking problem?”

“You couldn’t ask literally fucking anyone else? It had to be Y/n?” Rafe says, laughing indignantly. He looks down at where Topper is still keeping them separated. “And you—what the fuck—”

“I told you, man. It was just our moms. We didn’t even consider it,” Topper says, rolling his eyes.

“You both lied to me,” Rafe accuses. “Because you knew I’d be mad.”

“And why’s that, Rafe?” Kelce spits, reaching around Topper to try and push at his chest. “Why are you mad? Not like you were gonna ask her.”

“No,” Rafe says immediately. And he isn’t even lying; it’d never crossed his mind as a possibility. Which is why he can’t even begin to try and work out why he’s this upset about it. He didn’t do anything to stop this, but it’s still happening, and it’s making him crazy. “You know my dad’s making me take Reagan since we’re both on prom court.”

“That’s what I thought,” Kelce grumbles. “I was gonna tell you.”

“When?”

“Soon, I just—we made the plan so long ago, bro. Neither of us wanted to worry about dates… but I gave it time because I thought you might—I dunno,” Kelce trails off, shrugging. “I dunno.”

“Thought I might what?”

“Figure your shit out and ask her yourself,” Topper says, coming back from the boathouse with a towel that he passes to Kelce.

“Even if I could, Y/n/n would never say yes to me,” Rafe scoffs, shaking his head and reaching for the six-pack they were working through.

Topper scoffs back. “Oh, yeah ri—”

“Guess we’ll never know,” Kelce says, cutting him off while he dumps the water out of his shoes. He sighs at his soaked clothes before he looks back up at Rafe. “You know I’m not into her right? We’re just going as friends. It’s senior prom.”

“Why would I care what you’re going as?” Rafe says, shifting in discomfort, hand clutching his already-half-empty beer can a little tighter. “None of it even matters.”

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself, bro,” Kelce sighs, grabbing his phone out of Rafe’s hand and pushing past him to go change.

—

“Nice taste, Y/l/n.”

You whirl around from where you’d been adjusting Kelce’s boutonnière (you’d only pricked him twice, which was a personal record for you) at the sound of Rafe’s voice, plastering on a smile before you face him. Your eyes drop to his attire immediately. “Oh shit, Rafe. We match.”

“I know,” he laughs. “My step-mom wants a picture.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in your heels, the tule of your dress suddenly itchy against your legs. “Um. Shouldn’t you take one with Reagan?”

“We already took a million. From every angle. With every possible fucking pose,” Rafe sighs. “C’mon, please? Before the limo comes.”

Rafe grabs your hand and you look back at Kelce who just nods, downing some champagne. “Take care of my date, Cameron.”

You can see Rafe just shake his head where you trail behind him, leading you back to where Rose is talking to one of the other moms. “There you are. Your dress is beautiful! I wish we'd found one like that for Reagan. It looks great with Rafe's tuxedo.”

“Uh, yeah. It's nice to see you, Mrs. Cameron,” you say politely, ignoring the last half of what she said completely. She pulls up her phone and Rafe’s bringing you into his side, his hand resting in the middle of your back.

“This okay?” he murmurs, his breath fanning over your neck as he leans down.

“Yep,” you say quickly, but you can’t help but look around and catch multiple of your friends watching you, including Reagan, who promptly rolls her eyes once you make eye contact with her.

“Y/n, sweetie, just a few pictures for the newsletter,” Rose says, reminding you of your purpose right now.

“Right, sorry,” you say.

“Hey,” Rafe whispers. You look up at him, feeling his hand bring you closer to his body. “Take this a little more seriously, Y/l/n. Don’t you know that the next issue of the Island Club newsletter will be completely ruined without this one specific photo, that will probably be squished into the corner of a terribly- edited collage?”

You laugh in surprise, hitting him on his chest for joking about his step-mom right in front of her. “Rafe. Be nice.”

He just grins down at you, before straightening up and turning back to the camera. “If I’m nice, will you save a dance for me later tonight?”

You’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore, because then he’d see the way your smile faltered before you turn back to the camera as well. “Sure.”

—

“How is my flask empty?” Kelce groans, tipping it over and shaking it out for emphasis.

“That’s what happens when you drink it all, bud,” you laugh, patting his shoulder. He rolls his eyes at you, linking his arm in yours as you both pass through the crowd to find Topper and his date, Emily. You all watch Rafe up on stage, waiting to inevitably be crowned prom king.

He was a shoo-in anyway, but you’d definitely distracted your English teacher with a conversation about the 1984 essay you just turned in while Topper and Kelce stuffed the ballot box he was meant to be guarding.

Rafe seemed like he couldn’t care less about stuff like prom court, just shaking his head when his name was announced over the speaker as a nominee three weeks ago at lunch.

And he’d dragged his feet through finding a date, just shrugging whenever you brought it up to him, prying partially for your own sake.

You couldn’t figure out why he seemed so averse to the entire event, but you supposed that was better than having to hear him go on and on about Reagan and how he asked her and what corsage he bought for her and if he was bringing her to after-prom—or anything else that would’ve dragged up some feelings you thought you’d firmly buried at this point, telling yourself for years that you never stood a chance with Rafe.

But the closer graduation got, the more you’ve been realizing that things with your friends would never be the same. Things with Rafe would never be the same.

“Kildare Academy, your prom king is Rafe Cameron,” the DJ says, snapping you out of your thoughts. Kelce and Topper cheer obnoxiously while you laugh, a little grateful they’re both drunk and distracted—so happy their plan worked (Rafe subtly flips them off behind his back as he’s crowned) that they can’t notice the way your shoulders slump as Rafe leads Reagan, just crowned queen, out to the middle of the dance floor while some Ed Sheeran song starts playing through the speakers. You’d roll your eyes at the terrible music selection if that was what you could focus on.

All you could focus on was wondering if Rafe would even remember that you promised him a dance tonight.

Kelce is dramatically bringing you into his arms as the prom court dance takes place, subtly turning you around so your back faces the stage and the court, smiling as he holds your waist. “C’mon, dance with me.”

—

Rafe’s letting go of Reagan as soon as the song ends and everybody cheers, dashing off to the DJ booth after telling her he’d be back in a bit. She merely shrugged before adjusting her crown and going off to some friends.

“Hey man, can I pull some prom king privilege right now?” he says, leaning in to speak into the guys’ ear. “I have a song request.”

“Playlist is set, approved by the school,” he says dismissively.

“Thought you might say that,” Rafe grumbles, reaching into his breast pocket before he can take the time to wonder if he’s really going to do this—if he’s really going to bribe the DJ to play a song by your favorite band before he goes to cash in on that dance together that you’d promised.

He hands him a crisp hundred.

The DJ sighs, snatching it out of his hand and pocketing it while Rafe smirks in victory. “Alright, what song, country club?”

And then it's practically a race to find you before the Kid Cudi remix currently playing ends. Rafe heads off in the direction where Topper and Kelce had been yelling when he was on stage, evening his pace when he spots you jumping around with Kelce, your dress fanning around you while you laugh, the string lights illuminating your face.

You’re smiling so big that it stops Rafe in his tracks.

Guys had always shown interest in you, and you turned most of them down. Not all of them; Rafe still had to see you with guys who absolutely did not deserve you giving them the time of day, sometimes at parties or maybe at the Club. Rafe could usually lie to himself, write off these feelings as some protectiveness over you, a nice girl who’d been a good friend to him his entire life. Rafe was protective of all the people he held close in his life, why wouldn’t he look out for you, too?

But something must have changed, because now—now Rafe’s looking at you, and he knows time is running out before you both set off on your futures. He has three weeks of school left with you, then a summer of seeing you around. And then... that's it.

And now he’s looking at you, those feelings less and less ignorable with every single second closer Rafe gets to not having you around him every day anymore.

Those feelings are crowding every corner of his mind, finally coming to the surface after all of the drama with prom dates had forced Rafe to wonder why he couldn’t stand you going with Griffin or Topper or Kelce. Couldn’t stand thinking about you ever being with someone that wasn’t him—a reality he knows he’d have to get used to you a lot quicker than it took him to even realize he’d fallen for you.

Because the future’s coming, and maybe in the future you actually end up with someone like Griffin, or Mateo, or that guy from the party that one time, or that touron from New England that your parents tried to set you up with, some hotshot you brought home from California after a semester, or Kelce—even Topper. Your parents would love that one. And one day in this future, you’re running into Rafe on the soccer field; your kids play for the same team together. Rafe ended up settling for someone he could never like half as much as he loved you, and he sees you across the field with a sweater tied around your shoulders, chatting with all of the other moms. The lucky asshole you finally chose just watches you the way Rafe always had, the way he is now as you dance with his best friend, the way Rafe will probably never be able to stop himself from doing.

Or maybe there's another future without you, where you move away to somewhere that suits you; the Outer Banks had never good enough for you, in his mind. Maybe you stay in California after school. And you bring home that hotshot that’s perfectly matched for you, who gets to hold you and kiss you and have you. Rafe only gets to see you every once in a while, when you decide to grace the Outer Banks with your presence for the holidays or for Midsummers. Maybe in this scenario, Rafe was never able to find someone else, maybe he shows up solo while you flash your engagement ring when the old crew gets together for drinks—no, you wouldn’t do that. You’d be absolutely smitten with whoever won your heart, showing the ring he got you to your girl friends with an embarrassed little smile pulling at your lips while they all gush over it. And maybe one of your friends jokes about how Rafe used to have a crush on you. You'll just laugh and shrug it off, nodding—because you knew all along. Of course you knew, everyone had to know at this point. And Rafe can picture you merely laughing at his feelings for you as the other guy gets to pull you closer on his lap.

The opening chords of your song snap him out of his reverie. He can see the exact moment you realize what song it is.

Rafe beelines for you, holding his hand out as soon as he’s in your vicinity, fully pretending he hadn’t just realized he’s fallen for one of his closest friends in the middle of prom. Like he hadn't realized that he wasn't just into you, didn't just think you were cute or like the way you made him feel when you remembered his stats tests or wore his shirt to his water polo games. Like he hadn't just realized that no matter how many times he'd told himself it didn't bother him that much that you'd never come close to giving him the time of day, that he'd never forget what it felt like to not even be on your radar.

“You promised me a dance, Y/n.”

You look at him and his outstretched hand and smile, then look back to Kelce, who's quickly letting you out of his arms, casting an accusatory glance at Rafe. But then he smiles a little. “I'm gonna hit the restrooms.”

“Too bad our one dance is gonna be to a song by a band you hate,” you laugh, accepting Rafe's hand. Rafe’s on autopilot, his hands resting on your lower back while yours move to his chest, swaying the two of you in little circles. The song is already through with the first verse.

“I don’t hate this band,” he lies. But maybe it’s not a lie—how could he hate anything you loved?

“Okay, prom king,” you laugh, fiddling with his pocket square a little, the one that matches your dress. “Still can’t believe we ended up matching.”

“Great minds, Y/l/n,” he shrugs, eyes trained on your face. Your hands slip up around his shoulders, and you nudge the plastic crown on his head before leaving your arms to rest there, fingers locked behind his neck. Rafe pulls you closer. The second chorus was already starting up. Time was running out.

“I’m not sure what the optics are of our matching and you leaving the prom queen to come dance with your friend,” you say, your small smile turning into a frown. “Reagan already seemed pissed earlier.”

“Don’t worry about her,” Rafe says. “It’s just you and me right now.”

“When we go off to college, I think I might just miss you, Cameron,” you say, smiling.

And Rafe might not ever get to tell you how he feels, or ever be with you the way he wants to, but at least he got to dance with you at his senior prom.

“I know I'm gonna miss you.”

—

@moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids @fangirlvoice @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @pogueslandia @loveylangdon @oopsiedoopsie23 @sodasback @rafeseggplant @cooper8224 @rafeyybabyy @lemur46 @cameronsrafe @theepoguelandia @judayyyw @irlpadfoot @synonymforlame @tinawhynot @mildkleptomaniac @ilymarkchan @sofiatheseconf @hockeyshmockey @supersouthy @coffeeandcrimeshows @emptyloverofmine @infinitleyethereal @nerdypartytrashpsychic @mrs-cameron @tcmhollnd @nicavass @sakikos @catonthesideoftheroad @jemimah-b99 @serrendipiity @depressinq @svechnibrock @julianakawaja @ctrlcherries @lostaurorax @wildflower98 @babygirl2022 @lieswithoutfairytales @painlesslies @messagesinthesky @orrsoared @destourtereaux @sammywilscn @tylernagle @anonymousobxfan @lilacsandwhiskey @raphaelcameron @mardema @princesspogue @alwaysclassyeagle @brittlehe-art @drewswrld

529 notes · View notes

serenescribbles · 2 years

Text

snowball

For Timari January Free Day

I am back with another work in this series. There will be more to come in the future.

Thank you to Mic for beta reading this!

Oh, and also, Tim and Marinette are in the 11 - 13 year old age range. Take that information and do what you want with it.

I hope y'all enjoy!

AO3 | Masterlist | Part One of the Series | Part Three of the Series

一

When Tim had accidentally gotten dunked in the Gotham Bay during the night while trying to follow Batman and Robin, he hadn’t thought much of it. Sure, he had kept his wet clothes on and still went after the dynamic duo but it wasn’t anything to worry about, right?

Okay, maybe taking a dip in the Gotham Bay during the winter when the water was nearly freezing wasn’t the best idea. And the idea of trudging around in the snow with clothes that did nothing to protect him from the cold probably wasn’t his brightest either.

But at least he took a shower and changed into dry clothes the moment he got home and threw his wet ones into the washing machine! Tim had even curled up next to the fireplace for an hour as he worked on his homework and studied the pictures he had taken. He had gotten a lot done during that single hour, and Tim was proud.

Tim supposed his nose did feel a little stuffy as he prepared to go to bed but that happened sometimes. Everything was completely normal. And if he happened to go to bed with more blankets than usual, well, that wasn’t anybody else’s business but his.

During the night, Tim continued to twist and turn, tangling himself in his bedsheets. It was so hot being covered in all of these blankets. Had someone turned the temperature up? But that wasn’t possible. The only one in the Manor was him . And he always kept the temperature at a steady 68℉.

And whenever he tried to kick the blankets off of him, Tim immediately took them back, because without them it just felt so chilly . It was too hot with the blankets and too cold without them. He couldn’t stop himself from shivering, despite bundling himself up tightly in the blankets.

Making himself into a blanket burrito did make it harder for him to twist and turn so that was a win. But moving his head around so much had given him a headache and everything looked so unstable. He wanted to muffle his ears, to stop all of the shaking and the loudness but he couldn’t move his arms because they were trapped.

His throat also craved a glass of water but Tim didn’t have the energy to untangle himself from his blankets and trudge all the way downstairs to the kitchen to get some. His head kept throbbing and all he wanted was for someone to hug him. Would Marinette hug him? She had promised she would. Everything was spinning and he couldn’t fall asleep. Eventually, though, Tim was too exhausted to fight anymore, and he finally succumbed, falling into a restless and unsatisfying slumber.

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._.

“ Achoo 一 A-a- achoo !” Tim sneezed into his elbow and groaned.

Hot. He was hot . His throat was hot and itchy and on fire . He couldn’t see anything and when Tim tried to open his eyes, everything was just too bright and unbearable . Every inch of his body was sore and hurting as if he’d just gone through a whole body workout.

“ Why do I do this to myself?” He asked, to no one in particular.

Rolling over on his bed, Tim found himself tangled in bedsheets and too tired to get himself out of it. Nestling himself into his bed, Tim could feel the claws of sleep sink back into him right before he remembered something. Suddenly sitting up, and groaning and clutching his head for moving too fast, he realized he still had to go to school!

What even was the time right now?

Fumbling around for his phone, he squinted at the screen, trying to get a good look at it.

Eight-fifteen!? School was supposed to start at nine !

Now fully alert, but still with an aching body, it took a lot of effort for Tim to get out of bed and open his closet to take his Gotham Academy uniform off the coat hanger and put it on. The buttons irritated him to no end and eventually, Tim gave up on them.

Walking down the stairs as fast as he could, he made it to the kitchen where he had to pause for a moment because all of that action made his head spin. He also took out an empty glass and poured some water into it to soothe his throat. For a moment, Tim felt better, but then the itchy feeling came back at full force, maybe even worse .

There was no way he would be able to go to school today. Forget that. He wouldn’t be able to even get there in this state! How would that affect his attendance?

Well. Actually , missing a day wouldn’t be so bad. It’s not like he had any previous absences. It would be fine, right?

With his mind made up, he no longer needed to rush anymore. Tim took his time opening the fridge and finding something for him to eat. After doing that, he took his plate to the sink and rinsed it before placing it in the dishwasher.

Before he went back upstairs to his bed, he took out a water bottle and filled it up with water. That way, if he got thirsty, he wouldn’t have to go all the way downstairs to the kitchen.

And, fumbling around in the cabinets, Tim found some cold medicine. Reading the instructions, he took the appropriate amount, downing it with water. Now, he was ready to go upstairs again. Oh, the treacherous climb!

It was torture climbing up the stairs. Every time he lifted his leg to take a step, Tim felt like he lost a bit of his energy. By the time he finally made it up, he was panting and his back felt sweaty.

Normally, if he wasn’t sick, he would go up the stairs without needing to spare any effort at all!

Walking into his bedroom, Tim closed the door behind him and made a move towards his bed. However, he hadn’t paid attention to where he was going and tripped over a blanket that had fallen off the bed.

Down he went, without any resistance at all. Tim was just so tired and sore . He didn’t have the energy to get up. Besides, the floor wasn’t so bad. He was right by the window, and light streamed in, making it feel warm despite how cold it actually was. Grabbing the blanket that he’d tripped on, Tim rubbed his eyes blearily and yawned, before closing his eyes and snuggling into the floor.

He really didn’t get why the floor got such a bad rep. It was so comfy and cozy and一 Zzzzz!

_._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._._.

Thunk ! Thunk ! Thunk !

“ Hrghhff ,” Tim groaned, lifting his head slightly.

Why was it so bright ? Oh, right, the stupid window.

Rolling over, he gave himself quite a shock when his face hit the floor.

“Owww!” Tim exclaimed, rubbing his nose.

Why was he on the floor ? When had that happened?

Whatever. He yawned again. Sleep .

He slouched back down on the floor and was just about to get comfy when一 Thunk !

Tim nearly jumped up because of the sound. What was that? Was it coming from the window? But, windows can’t make sound, can they? Then, the thunk happened again, causing him to scoot away from the window. He stopped when the back of his head hit his bed.

Casting an evil eye over at the window, Tim watched warily when the thunk -ing nose continued. With his blanket wrapped tightly around him, he crawled towards the window, trying to keep himself as small as possible.

If you can’t see it, it can’t see you.

Finally, he made it, and he crouched just under the window sill, with his back to the wall. Counting to five in his head, Tim slowly poked his head out and looked through the window.

For the record, he was not prepared at all for the huge chunk of snow aiming straight for his face. Scrambling backward in fright, Tim clutched his face fearfully.

But when he took another look, Tim realized the snow hadn’t hit him. The window had blocked it! Oh, right. That was a thing.

Going back to the window, he poked his head out again and saw a pink and blue blur standing outside in the snow. It was fuzzy, and Tim strained his eyes to get a good look at it, before he realized the pink and blue blur was Marinette!

He watched as she bent down and took some snow, rolling it around in her hand, before turning in the direction where he was looking from. Marinette looked like she was readying herself, almost like she was throwing something? And then, all of a sudden, thunk !

His heart almost leaped out of his chest and Tim stopped looking through the window, feeling very surprised.

Why was Marinette here? How’d she even find out where he lived? He never told her, ever!

Well, he should probably go let her in. With the blanket still wrapped protectively around him, Tim decided to simply scoot down the stairs. Meaning he sat down at the very top step and slid down a step one by one.

It was just like going down a slide! A very bumpy one, that is.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs, Tim pouted ever so slightly that his ride was over. But, he got up and trudged over to the front door, which is where he began the excruciating process of unlocking the door.

Seriously, he wasn’t feeling like doing that at all right now! Why couldn’t the door just open without doing anything? Oh, wait. That was so intruders couldn’t get in.

But it wasn’t like anyone else lived around these parts, except for the Waynes but they were like, a mile away.

At last, Tim fiddled around and managed to unlock the door. What greeted him was a surprise. Marinette had gone up to the door too and as soon as he opened it, Tim felt like the living daylights were knocked out of him!

Really! Marinette had pounced on him, wrapping her arms around him fiercely, giving Tim no time to do or say anything. He had been so shocked that his blanket fell to the ground.

Snaking his hands around Marinette, Tim awkwardly patted her back, and he mustered up the energy in his throat to hoarsely whisper, “ Marinette ?”

The only response to that was an even tighter hug.

“Oh, Tim! I was so worried about you when you didn’t show up to school! I thought something bad had happened to you! I missed you the whole day! I brought the notes from our classes today and the homework that we need to do! Are you okay? Actually, you don’t look okay, your face is very red and you look tired. Have you eaten anything today? I can go make something for you if you want!”

Tim faltered for a moment. He couldn’t understand half the things Marinette was saying, and she was still rambling on. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he mumbled, “ Marinette, ”

But she didn’t hear him. This time, he tried a little louder, “Marinette,”

Ignored. Fine, if that was the way she wanted to play it. Finally, Tim gathered all of his energy and whisper-yelled, “ Marinette! ”

Immediately after, he burst into a coughing fit. His throat was still scratchy, and it had been hard to talk. Him yelling her name and then coughing seemed to do the trick. Marinette stopped rambling.

Gesturing to his throat, Tim mouthed the words, “ I’m sick, ”

Marinette nodded in understanding. She closed the front door and led him to the kitchen table so he could take a seat. She brought the fallen blanket, too. And then, Marinette did something strange. Digging into her backpack, which he only just noticed was there, she got out a small pad of paper and a pen.

Seeing the questioning look he shot her, she explained, “It’s so you can tell me what you want without having to talk,”

Nodding, Tim grabbed the pen and scribbled on the paper, “ Thank you. How did you find out where I lived? ”

Showing it to Marinette, he watched as she fiddled with the zipper of her jacket and said, “I called the school and asked for your address.”

Ahh, so that was it. Smart.

Just then, his stomach grumbled, catching both of them off guard. Tim’s cheeks turned even redder than before and Marinette simply chuckled.

“I can make some chicken soup for you if you’d like? Maman taught me how to,” she offered.

Scribbling a “thank you” onto the notepad and showing it to Marinette, she grinned and rolled up her sleeves.

Tim watched her while she worked. First, Marinette washed her hands, then took out the cutting board and a knife. A huge pot was taken out, too. She was chopping up some vegetables. Somewhere in between Marinette filled the pot with water and put it on the stove to boil.

And then… and then… Tim must’ve lost focus and dozed off then because when he opened his eyes again, a bowl of chicken soup was set in front of him, along with a napkin and spoon.

Glancing over to Marinette, he saw she had a bowl of chicken soup, too. Picking up the spoon, Tim took in a deep breath and was immediately filled with the scent of delicious chicken soup. The kitchen had never smelled so wonderful.

After both he and Marinette had finished eating, she took their bowls to the sink to wash. Tim took the pad of paper to write “thank you” to her again. She simply smiled.

When Tim tried to get up from the chair, he wobbled and had to hold onto the table for support. He had sat down for too long. Marinette helped him though. With him giving her the directions, she guided him up the stairs to his bedroom.

He felt a little embarrassed when Marinette entered. No one else but him had ever been in his room before. It was sort of messy right now, but when his parents were home, it was squeaky clean.

It was awkward for Tim to lay down on his bed while Marinette was there, but she insisted he did.

“You’re the one who’s sick!” she scolded. “You should be in bed resting!”

Marinette propped up a few pillows for him and Tim leaned his head back into them. He covered himself with his blankets. Staring up at the ceiling, he thought about how grateful he was to have Marinette as his friend. She came all the way over to his house by herself and even made chicken soup for him.

Speaking of that, Tim tapped Marinette’s shoulder. She turned her head to look at him. He pointed to what he’d just written on the pad of paper. “ Do your parents know you’re here? ”

All of a sudden, Marinette’s face went pale. “ Mon Dieu ! I completely forgot to tell them! Thanks for reminding me! I should go call them!”

Tim nodded. While it was nice Marinette was here for him, he didn’t want that to get her in trouble. She went outside his room to take the call.

Despite the wall muffling their conversation, Tim could still hear bits and pieces.

“ Maman , Papa ! I’m fine!”

“Are you sure honey? Where are you? How come you aren’t home from school yet?”

“I’m at my friend Tim’s house. You know, the boy I told you about. He didn’t come to school today because he was sick and I was worried.”

“You should’ve told us as soon as you were going! We would’ve driven you there! It’s snowing outside right now! Do you want us to come and get you?”

“No, Papa , it’s okay. I’ll be fine. Thank you,”

He heard Marinette reassure her parents some more. And then she hung up on the call. The door to his bedroom creaked open and in walked Marinette.

“ Everything alright? ” Tim asked on the piece of paper.

“Yeah, it is,” Marinette replied. “Now didn’t I say you should get some rest?”

Tim blushed. Immediately, he laid back down on his bed. Marinette sat on the edge.

He sure was lucky to have Marinette, wasn’t he? She was a great friend.

Unknowingly, he smiled. Yawning a little, Tim quietly murmured, “Hey, Marinette, can I have a hug ?”

“Absolutely,”

Marinette extended her arms and Tim leaned into her hold. He felt warm. He felt happy. He felt loved.

It had been so surprising to see Marinette waiting outside his door. He hadn’t even thought about Marinette at all, but she’d thought of him. She had even made him chicken soup.

She’d gone to such an extent to look after him. No one had ever bothered to do that for him before. No one ever cared so much. That is, until now.

Hugging Marinette tighter than before, he mumbled, “Thank you,”

Thank you for being there for me. Thanks for doing all of this for me. You’re the greatest friend I could ever have.

To which Marinette only responded by gently patting his back and deepening their hug. Tim couldn’t see it, but he was sure Marinette was smiling, too.

“Of course Tim, of course,”

一

Tim later wakes up feeling much better but still sick. It turns out Marinette is sick now too. He's now freaking out over that, and only realizes that he's been in his pajamas the whole time in front of Marinette some time later. The Dupain-Chengs come to pick both Marinette and Tim up to go back to the bakery, where they have a sleepover and bond over feeling miserable.

@timari-month-event

#timari #timinette #sickfic #maribat #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #timari january #fluff

22 notes · View notes

cassanovancats · 3 years

Text

herding cats

becoming nekoma's manager

You really didn’t want to be here. Here being Tokyo, here being Nerima ward and, most importantly, here being the hallway of your new school. The uniform is itchy and you’re being dragged along by some student council member because, apparently, first years can’t be trusted to walk around themselves.

He was nice enough, though he certainly seemed more excited to show you around when he got a look at you. Then he got more excited when he found out your mom’s occupation was what brought you to Nekoma High halfway through your first-year. “So, what’s it like having a famous mom?”

Your eyes darted to the side instinctively. What kind of question is that? How are you supposed to answer? Like having a mom except you get asked things like that. “Uh, fine. She’s really not that cool.” Especially for moving you so late into the school year because her animation studio decided working distantly wasn’t working. “I get spoilers sometimes.” It’s exactly what he wants to hear.

You can hear the next question already, so you cut him off before he gets a chance to ask about the upcoming episode of the anime your mother was working on. “Ah, it seems we made it to the classroom. Thank you for helping me, Senpai.” You bow half heartedly and knock on the door before he gets a chance to respond.

This is exactly what you told your mother would happen. Even as you introduce yourself to the class, there’s a few people who instantly recognize your last name. Those students turn to whisper or pass notes and you know by lunch, you’ll be crowded by people hoping to become your friend purely for bragging rights. The teacher seems tuned to your inner angst, as she gracefully directs you to a seat in the back of the class, where you can watch instead of be watched.

The first subject of your people-watching is next to you - the one person who did not look up as you introduced yourself. A curtain of dark hair kept you from seeing any details of his face (and you can only tell it’s a he because of the uniform). What you can see is the screen of his handheld console and the bright features of one of your favorite games.

Which is why, during break, instead of making eye contact with any of the students striving to talk to you, you turn to him to complain about the latest update.

congrats, you befriended a wild kenma!

he’s the first person you’ve met in a while who doesn’t care about what your mom does, or how much money you have

he literally only cares about your ability to hard carry a team through a dungeon

a few weeks go by, with you basically just coming to school, talking to Kenma, and going home

until the student counselor comes to you and says you have to join a club

even though it’s the end of the year - some policy to ensure you have a club going into next year

“I hate this,” your complaint comes out severely muffled thanks to how you buried your face into folded arms. Kenma gives a noncommittal hum.

“Are you going to finish that?”

You glare at him but still shove the snack closer to his desk. One hand breaks away from his controller to snatch it, before it gets glued back to his PSP. “I’m serious - if one more club tries recruiting me, I’ll scream.”

He answers, sparing a side-glance towards you. The only hint he actually is listening. “Just warn me when that happens.” You groan and go back to your folded arms. It’s been hard to make friends despite people seeming desperate to be your friend. Well, that’s the problem, you think. You don’t particularly want friends who are planning what questions to ask before even greeting you, you want friends like Kenma who can treat you like a normal person.

Minutes before break ends, the president of the Anime Club approaches for the third time this week. “Hello, (l/n)-san. Have you thought any more about joining our club?”

You feel bad for the instinctive grimace. Really, she’s quite nice. It’s just an anime club is the last place you wish to be. Before you can find another polite way to let her down, Kenma interrupts. “Sorry, Sato-san. (y/n) is joining the volleyball club.”

“I am?” You can’t help but question. He shoots you a look, slighting narrowing his eyes.

“She’ll be meeting the captain at today’s practice.”

Sato-san tilts her head suspiciously but doesn’t press. “I hope to still see you around, (l/n)-san,” she says before flouncing off. You take a moment to reorient yourself.

“I am?”

Kenma sighs, saving his game and shoving the console into his bag. “Yeah, you are. Don’t worry, Kuroo will just be glad a girl is there. Coach Nekomata won’t decline help either.”

You blink at him. “Are you aware the only rules I know about volleyball is to not let the ball hit the ground and to only use your hands?”

“The last one isn’t true.”

“Do you see my point, then?”

yes he does, but he simply chooses to ignore you

it…. does not go well

Kuroo was awkward around you, which turned into a mischievousness when he realized Kenma was the one who brought you in

he kept insinuating you and Kenma were dating which like… no you were just a girl (space) friend

Yaku and Kai were normal-ish though Yaku straight-up asked if your mom was the (l/n)

he let it drop after confirmation at least

then… there was the students in your year

Kenma hovered near you, feeling responsible for putting you in a situation nearly identical to what Kuroo did to him

Yamamoto seemed flustered by your presence and also irritated that Kenma already was your friend

Fukunaga just kinda waved and went back to practicing

it took a while for everyone to get over their initial awkwardness, mostly being helped by having to constantly explain what was happening

but the time spent together meant you quickly found friends

friends who, similar to Kenma, dgaf about anything besides your personality and ability to quickly refill water bottles

Maybe you should have realized sooner what joining the volleyball club entailed. It’s not like you ever really participated in an organized sport though, so these summer practices were kicking your ass. The early morning and heat.... You felt pity for your boys; at least you weren’t having to run. Speaking of, the new members of your team just rounded the last bend.

“Come on, babies,” Kuroo cups his hands over his mouth to ‘encourage’ the first-years. “Even (y/n) could beat that!”

“Don’t say that; Lev’s gonna wanna see it!” you hiss, hitting his side.

Speaking of, the giant, silver puppy heads straight to you. After introductions, his upperclassmen quickly understood Lev required a, well, firm hand. Something you lacked which made you the target of his affections. “Woahh, (y/n)-senpai must be fast! Why don’t you actually play any sports?”

Yaku’s eyes level a harsh glare on him, “Are you trying to insult our manager?”

Shibayama steps forward, saving Lev from having to repeat his run. “I am curious why you chose to be a volleyball manager. No offense, but… you don’t seem to care about the sport.”

“Ah, none taken,” you easily wave off his concern. “Volleyball’s cool enough, but you’re right that I’m not passionate about it in the same way as others on the team. I mostly joined because of Kenma, actually.”

The first-years felt confused. How could their quiet, cat-senpai pull in one of the most popular girls in school? Even last year, when they were in Nekoma's middle-school, they had heard rumors of you. When you joined the volleyball club, even teachers started giving the once-golden club attention again. It was how the club received funding to travel to Miyagi next week. (In addition to a large donation from your mom, who was overjoyed you actually made friends.)

“He was my first and only friend at Nekoma for a long time,” you explain. Lev gasps dramatically. It seems impossible to imagine you without lines of admirers. “It doesn’t matter now since everyone in the club is my friend! Take your bottles and get in the gym; we need to talk about the logistics of going to that camp with Karasuno.”

the ones who stay behind are upset </3 cough cough lev

you’re pretty surprised you do get to go

but you’re excited - from what you understand it’s a rural area and you’ve been in Tokyo your entire life

maybe you'll even see a cow!

except you get there, walk a few feet and then notice Kenma is missing

excitement: ruined

Kuroo panics while repeating that he is not panicking

then you both get a text that’s just “in a playground”

when you find him, you scold him on talking to strangers

anyways the rest of the day is spent familiarizing yourself with the gyms and rooms

you run into Kiyoko while preparing dinner for your team

she explains she’s the only other manager at the camp, but she won’t be staying with you

You’re a lil upset bc sleepover ruined but it seems weird to complain about getting your own room and bath

(you still spend most of the time in the team’s room because it got really lonely without your boys :( )

the next morning, the day of the actual match, you get to wear your Official Manager Clothes

which is really just the track jacket, but it makes you feel cool

meeting karasuno is,,, interesting

you’re starting to think you’ll never find a normal volleyball player

From the corner of your eye, you spot Yamamoto attempting to intimidate some Karasuno players. With a sigh, you go to fetch him.

“Tora-kun, can you please help me bring in some supplies? They’re too heavy,” you whine. It’s you’re tried and true method to keeping him on a leash. If he’s helping you, he’s with the team.

Except you don’t just get his attention, you also get the attention of the boy he was staring down. Tanka startles at your sudden appearance behind Yamamoto and loses the harshness in his face. “G-girl-”

You make eye contact with Kenma who looks amused. He ignores your plead for help. Yamamoto takes the opportunity to flaunt you. “This is (y/n). Talk to her and you’ll learn how much pain a volleyball can inflict.” As he finishes his threat, he gets distracted by Kiyoko’s appearance over Tanka’s shoulder.

You decide it’s a lost cause and subtly inch away until you’re walking with Kiyoko. The boys are unable to hear what you’re talking about, but both stare dumbfounded as the only two girls in the entire camp gossip and laugh. Tanka and Yamamoto share a look; maybe there’s something shared between the two they didn’t see before.

“Is your idiot always like that?”

“Yeah, I assume that’s normal for your team too?”

#cass.writes #manager!reader #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #female!reader #nekoma #also lots of info from the wiki #so pls don’t jump me if it’s wrong

110 notes · View notes

mariamermaid · 4 years

Text

Spontaneous

Fred Weasley x fem Reader

Summary: Fred and you loved to be spontaneous. Ever since your time in Hogwarts, there wasn´t a day filled with tediousness. But when Fred suddenly decides that it´s time to get married, things go wild…

Words: 2k

You didn´t hear the door close behind Fred. Instead you sat in the bathtub, filled with bubbles and candles spread around the rim of the tub. Music from the record player filled the apartment with soft tunes. It was natural that you flinched when the door suddenly opened and a gasp escaped your lips.

“God, Fred, what are you doing here? I thought you´d be at work all day!” You exclaimed after your initial surprise. You weren´t wrong, he usually was at work and when he came back from the shop he shared with George, he was usually very tired. Tired but happy. A flicker of a smile when he saw what you had cooked for him, but today? Today was different.

It wasn´t even 11 a.m., you had a free day, and there he stood; in the middle of the rather small bathroom with a grin from ear to ear. His eyes glowing in excitement.

“What?” You asked confused and leaned to the brim of the tub, but all he did was stare at you. He soaked in the view of you, covered in foam and your hair messily put up.

As quick as he had entered the room, he suddenly kneeled down to you, both of his hand grabbing the tub. It was the same look he had when coming up with new ideas.

“Do you want to marry me?”

His face was only inches away and a tint of blush crept on his cheeks. Completely taken back, you couldn´t help but simply stare.

“What?”

His hands grabbed yours, not caring about the water dripping over. “Do you want to marry me?”

He paused for a second. “Because I realized that I can´t imagine not marrying you! You know, I was at the store with George and it was like any other day and yet it wasn´t! I just knew, so I rushed back to you!” He started rambling until you interrupted with laughter.

He had joked about it since you started dating back in your days in Hogwarts. He would marry you one day, but Fred joked a lot if the day was long. On the other hand, you neither questioned marrying him.

“Yes, you idiot! Of course, I´ll marry you!” You finally exclaimed and he pressed his lips firmly on yours. Softly, he started pulling you up and lifting you out of the tub.

“Fred, you´re making a mess! The water…” You giggled in between kisses but he shook his head.

“No time, love. I already called the register office, there´s an open slot at 3 o´clock!”

“Wait what?!”

“I told you I want to marry you, why wait?” He sat you down on your feet again and wrapped a towel around your dripping body, so you wouldn´t get cold. “Fred, I… You…” There was no physical way you would bring out anything but stammering. Instead, you were just shaking your head. Smiling.

“You´re unbelievable.” “But it´s a reason why you love me, right?”

“Yes, I love you more than anything.” You pressed another kiss on his lips, short but passionate.

“No, excuse me, I have to get ready for my wedding day!”

George wasn´t as enthusiastic about randomly closing the shop without an explanation, but Fred begged long enough, telling him to meet him in London. Before George could object, Fred ended the call. “You didn´t even tell him!” You shouted from your shared bedroom and Fred´s head popped in; eyebrows raised. “Yeah, but he´ll find out soon enough.”

“Then call your sister, we need a second witness to a marriage. And Ginny just told me yesterday that she´d be in the city anyways!”

“Should I tell her why we need her so urgent?”

“Nope, she´ll figure it out later”, you grinned and your fiancé nodded agreeing.

“What about your parents, love?”

“They´re visiting Charlie.”

“But telling them? In any way?” You wondered and Fred came back to sit on the bed. “Well, sure mum´s gonna be a little angry, but we can have a bigger feast when we´re all in town! Ron is with Hermione in Austria, Bill and Fleur have been dealing with the house. Maybe we set a date or something, but the free appointment is only today, anyways we have to wait at least six months!” You sighed while fixing your hair.

“Molly is gonna rip off your head.” “Why only mine?”

“Darling, she won´t rip off her new daughter-in-law´s head.”

“Come one, hurry, we have only an hour left!” Fred, who was tall and usually bragged about his long legs, was a few feet behind you. “Do you think we even find a dress?” He asked.

“I don´t want anything special, after all this is just the official marriage service, not the actual ceremony with friends and family. But maybe something to look at least a little put together? You´re wearing a shirt and a tie as well!”

“Love, you always look put together and astonishing pretty.” Laughing, you jokingly hit his shoulder. “If you don´t stop flirting, I might have to put a ring on you!”

Fred opened the door of the shop for you and while you entered, your mouth fell open and you admired the view of dresses. A saleslady quickly approached the two of you, who were clearly overwhelmed. “Can I help you with anything?”

“I´m looking for a formal dress for the register office”, you explained and she nodded smiling. “So, when is the date, if I may ask?” “In about an hour”, Fred shrugged reluctant and watched grinningly how the face of the saleslady dropped. He enjoyed this a little too much.

“Oh dear, then we better begin…”

The first dress was a nightmare, the cut made you look uncomfortable and the material was itchy. While you waited in the fitting room, the saleswoman searched for a new dress. Fred casually joined her. “Ehm, I actually have to pick something up, a surprise for her”, he cleared his throat and she nodded understanding. “I think I can handle it, any last preferences maybe?”

“Actually, I saw this red dress in the front room?” The saleslady nodded in excitement and Fred thanked her before leaving the shop. The dress was the perfect Gryffindor red, it immediately reminded of your school times. You wore a similar one to the ball with Fred. But this one was made of a sleek satin material, the cut dropped off shoulder and it was tighter, hugging your body in the right places without being uncomfortable. You starred at yourself in the mirror.

“It´s perfect! Where´s Fred, I need to show him?” The saleswoman smirked knowingly.

“Your fiancé had to do some last-minute preparation, he told me that he would meet you at the register office”, she stated how Fred had previously explained. You furrowed your brows, but then you nodded as well. He was going to love you in the dress.

You saw the two red-heads, George and Ginny waiting across the street. You had thrown over your normal black coat, the dark heels and beneath the dress, nice and hidden. At least for now. George had his arms crossed in front of his chest, his face a little bitter and not very amused. Ginny spotted you firstly and embraced you. She seemed confused as well.

“Y/n, what is going on? Fred sounded so urgent on the phone?” Her brother nodded agreeing. “What is so important that we had to close the shop?” Before you could speak up, Fred suddenly popped up and joined your group, pressing a quick kiss on top of your head.

“Everything´s ready”, he nodded towards you. “Ready for what?” George continued bickering.

“Y/n and I are getting married.”

While Ginny let out a small scream of surprise, hugging you tightly the next second, George patted his brother on the shoulder. “You two were always spontaneous, I shouldn´t be surprised.”

There was no time for congratulations, the four of you hurried inside the large building and after asking for the directions and a waiting time of almost five minutes, you entered the office of Mrs. Carter. You took off your coat, both Fred and Ginny let out a small gasp. “You´re looking stunning”, Fred whispered and placed another kiss on your cheek. Mrs. Carter, who watched the two of you closely, nodded politely while shaking your hand and showing your seats.

“So, you´re Mr. Weasley, Fred right?” She asked while organizing a few papers. Fred nodded. “And you´re the lucky girl, who he surprised?” “Yes, very much.”

“I see you brought your witnesses”, she stopped a little confused when looking up and finding George, right next to Ginny. “Yeah, I´m Fred´s twin brother, and this is our sister Ginny.” The four of you grinned widely. “Big family I see”, Mrs. Carter smiled warmly.

“Then let´s get started, shall we? I need you to sign the papers here, they declare that you´re both here willingly today.” The two of you took the pen and signed ahead.

“Y/n, are you taking on Fred´s last name?” You stopped in your tracks, looking unsure back and forth between Mrs. Carter and Fred. “Y/N Weasley has a good ring to it, I have to admit”, Fred shrugged innocently. It wasn´t something you actually had discussed, but it felt right. So, you went with it.

“Yes, Y/n Weasley it is.” Mrs. Carter handed you the papers for the name change.

“Do you forge the marriage with rings or without?”

“Without”, you spoke up without even thinking, but Fred grabbed your hand, holding you back. “Actually”, he paused while taking out a small velvet box. Amazed you starred at him. “I do have rings.”

“Fred, you didn´t have to”, you trailed off softly, but he shook his head serious. “Just because we´re doing this so spontaneous, doesn´t mean we´re not doing it right.”

You melted at his words and it felt like falling in love with him all over again. It was you and him, sneaking out of the common room or skipping class to make out behind corners. The kisses after won Quidditch games. Running away hand in hand after those many pranks. Quiet nights on the couch, watching the fire and snow falling outside. Walking down hand in hand to the ball. Drunken nights filled with deep conversations on the astronomy tower. Christmas mornings with the entire family and baking cookies together. Falling into each other arms after the battle, knowing that you both survived.

All those moments leading up to the present, it was destiny.

“You´re amazing”, you breathed and kissed Fred softly. He put on the ring on your finger, you did the same with his. Mrs. Carter was beaming and Ginny took a handkerchief, wiping away a few tears. It was a beautiful scene. “Last papers to sign now, then your wife and husband!”

Two weeks later you found yourself at the burrow, both Molly and Arthur, Bill and Fleur and Ron and Hermione had come home within the past few days. A reunion was long after-due. And Ginny continued to claim that she would explode, if you didn´t tell soon. You were all seated around the long table in the dining area, chatting about the vacation and other miscellaneous things. Molly had baked pie and you had brought some chocolate mousse as well. Arthur, who sat at the end of the table, Fred and you next to him, then George and Ron, rose from his chair. It was late in the afternoon and most of you enjoyed a cup of tea or coffee, there was no intention of champagne, at least not yet. Molly joined her husband. As always, they smiled happily seeing all their children and family together.

“You know, even though it´s nothing too special, it´s always nice to see the family back together!” He exclaimed and, in the mean-time, you and Fred exchanged knowing looks. Fred rose from his chair, patting his father on the shoulder.

“Actually, dad, there are some news”, he paused, waiting for you to join his side.

“I would like for everyone to meet my official wife, Y/n. We got married two weeks ago!”

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley x reader #oliver phelps #harry potter imagine #mariamermaidimagine

275 notes · View notes

neonponders · 3 years

Text

Part 1 of this mafia_au here ~ nurse!Steve and mobster!Billy

• • • • • • •

The only reason Billy got a pair of cuffs on his wrists was because he went to the hospital. Hospitals were required to involve the police when suspicious wounds entered the building.

Now he lay patiently in his cell of the police station. Ironically, the safest place in town. Plus, Hopper did good work. Efficient. Billy knew he wouldn’t have to wait too long -

“Hargrove. You’re up.”

He swiveled his hips so his feet touched the ground, and rocked himself up to standing. The cop placed the handcuffs on his wrists through the sanctioned gap in the bars, and then opened the door. Billy strolled as contently as a handcuffed man could through the sterile, boring hallways between the cells and the interrogation room.

He sat once again in the steel chair, and waited some more.

This was an annoying tactic, making the person wait for a conversation. He supposed it worked on common people and smaller criminals, but Billy simply retreated back into his meditative space, where a full album of music played on loop...

The door opened, and he lifted his gaze to see Steve holding his file and warily looking between Billy and the seat opposite him.

Billy smiled much as he had the first time he woke up to Steve removing his blood transfusion needle. “Hi.”

Steve only sighed as he settled into his chair, and flicked annoyed eyes at him from behind his glasses. Billy liked his glasses. He also liked Steve without them.

“What’s your prescription?”

Steve blinked vacantly up at him. “Huh?”

Billy lifted his cuffed hands onto the table, one of them pointing, “Your glasses.”

Steve stared at him, and then his irises distinctly cut to the side. Billy’s own flicked to his ears, where he could just see an earpiece hiding beneath his hair.

“I probably don’t have to tell you this,” Steve listened to Hopper’s patient drone, “but the fewer questions he asks to you, the better. Don’t let him distract you.”

He swallowed thickly and took out the pictures inside of the file. “Do you know these people?”

Billy cast his attention over the images and knocked two of them back toward the file. “Those two don’t matter. The red-head is a test. To see how honest I’ll be. It’s my stepsister.”

Steve began to tuck the images back into a neat pile, but his gaze lingered on the teenager while he listened to the voice in his ear. Then, “She’s missing.”

“No, she isn’t. She’s at a safe house. And no, they don’t get to know where that is.”

Steve didn’t give that much of a response as he began sifting through the papers -

“I don’t read quickly!” he shouted at the two-way mirror.

That caught Billy off-guard. But a moment later, he turned his head to laugh into his bicep. He could just picture Hopper harrumphing under his mustache.

“Is that legal?”

Billy perked up. “What? A safe house?” He shrugged. “A person on my property with my permission? Yeah.”

Steve slumped a little to the side. “With their permission?”

He shrugged again. “She gets out of school for a week. She’s thrilled.”

“Is there documentation of this place?”

Billy smiled. “Somewhere.”

A sigh heaved out of Steve as he bowed his head and started rummaging through his hair. Billy couldn’t blame him; a full week of shifts at the hospital and then Hopper probably interrogated him before allowing him to be in the room with Billy. Steve would certainly be at the end of his limits.

“Why? Why why why why,” he lifted his head for his brassy-gold glasses to be hanging low on his nose, “why am I here, Billy? You already know everything that’s in this folder.”

“I wanted to see you,” he said softly. Then he leaned forward and purred, “They handle me roughly here. I think my stitches might’ve tore.”

“Well you’re gonna be screwed in prison, and you’re way too pretty to survive that place - ”

“I wanted to see you. Sue me.”

“What are my chances?”

“Not great. My lawyers are excellent.”

Steve’s eyes squinted dramatically with thought as he pushed his glasses back up and leaned back in his chair. “Hmm...”

Billy wiggled a little as a grin flashed across his face. “You’re still my nurse until my stitches are out.”

Those large doe eyes widened. He gestured around the room. “Whatever this is, is outside of my pay grade and degree. Now how about you walk me through what happened.”

A lingering smile kept Billy’s features warm. Steve had said as much in the hospital, after the doctor stormed out of his private room and probably reported his ass to these people.

“On Wednesday, May 2nd, I got wind that someone was looking too closely at my stepsister. She already has some little nobody for a boyfriend so I knew this was something different. I told her to spend the weekend with him, and don’t go home. Either I pick her up, or she stays put.

“She listens as well as I do.

“Come Saturday, May 5th, at...” his clear, turquoise eyes sparked off the harsh fluorescent light as he calculated, “7pm, give or take, I’m intervening a simultaneous breaking and entering, assault and battery, and kidnapping/hostage situation. Boyfriend is knocked out on his stoop. House is empty of parents because - well, teenagers.”

Steve tipped his head to that, understanding how teens would manage to be alone in a house together.

“I get my arm shredded and my aorta is almost sliced open, but by all means, hold me in custody instead of going after the other side of this ordeal.”

Steve glanced nervously at the window when Billy raised his voice at it. “Also, the boyfriend is black. I haven’t heard a word about him.” He leaned back with a blatant, derisive scoff. “Pigs believing they’re better than wolves.”

“Saturday?”

Billy’s sharp gaze locked onto him even though his voice matched Steve’s quieter tone. “Saturday.”

“Which would mean you were in the hospital until Tuesday.”

He nodded once. “Discharged at 1pm - ”

Steve’s shoulders hitched when Hopper swept through the door behind him. The nurse looked almost like a teenager next to the bear of a man licking his finger to move through the file pages quickly.

Billy’s feet found Steve’s under the table, pushing them together to frame them in between his own. Steve peered at him, a question in his eyes but Billy waited for Hopper to find what he wanted.

Steve could only lean out of the man’s way as he slammed a hand on the table, shut the file with more force than paper or card stock ever needed, and then marched out of the room. His bellow reverberated down the hallway. “GOD DAMNIT, HE HAS AN ALIBI!”

Billy kept his snicker to a minimum while Steve took his time processing that. “An alibi for what?”

He lifted his hands to scratch his nose. “Something I wasn’t there for, clearly.”

Steve gaped at him and hunched over the table. “But - wha- Your sister? Was that all bullshit?”

“Hopper makes me wait all the time.”

His back hit the chair once again as he shoved his fingers into his hair. “Oh my god, you’re so petty.”

Billy chuckled as a pair of officers came in and ushered them out of the room. Billy was pushed into a chair in the large cubicle room to work through his check-out process. Steve wasn’t far off, stuck at a similar desk doing basically the same thing.

Then all of the phones went off simultaneously. Some of the cops looked around at each other while picking up the receiver...

The room swiftly cleared by two-thirds, but Hopper returned to stand between Billy and Steve’s desks. The latter waited with tired eyes while the former fidgeted with the chain hanging between his wrists.

“Steve...the nurse on your routes was just murdered.”

That...didn’t quite land yet, until Billy mumbled, “You’re welcome.”

Steve’s head whipped around while Hopper scowled. “You’re not going anywhere. Not without a goddamn tracking anklet.”

Billy shook his head once, indifferent. “I have a fine taste for jewelry.”

Hopper couldn’t linger to deal with him, though. He ran out of the room to get to the situation at the hospital.

Steve could only slump back in the itchy upholstery of his chair. Eventually, Billy chimed, “You look good in your hot pink scrubs.”

The nurse’s head slowly turned. “How did you know?”

He found Billy with all of his weight on the arm rest, pointed entirely at Steve until he turned his face away. He gradually reclined back in his chair. “It’s my job to know.”

Steve was so tired. He felt worry for his kids in the hospital, apologetic for the rest of the staff, and just so, so confused...

“I’m just a nurse.”

Whatever Billy took from that, he replied, “You took care of me and made me laugh. I’m easy to please.”

#harringrove #ficlet #neonponders #pondermoniums #mafia au

60 notes · View notes

waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

Where We Start Again - 1

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: how do you fake date someone you have real feelings for?

Series Masterlist and regular Masterlist

Playlist by the amazing @tiny-friggin-human

“Did Y/n get a new skirt?” Ned mumbled as he rested his head on his hand. He and Peter watched you as you hung a banner for the school dance, a common lunchtime activity for them. You laughed loud enough for Peters heightened senses to pick up and he smiled to himself.

“No. She’s worn that skirt before. She just usually wears it with tights.” Peter answered as he matched Ned’s position of leaning on his hand.

“Another reason why I love spring.” Ned sighed as you reached towards the other end of the banner.

“You guys are losers.” MJ stated as she glanced up from her book. Peter jumped out of the daze you put him in and looked at her.

“Hey.” He said in defense before returning his attention to you. Even after four years of pining, he never got tired of looking at you.

“I wasn’t being mean. I’m just telling it like it is. In case you forgot, you guys are losers.” She said matter of factly. “Y/n is the most popular girl in school and I’ve watched you drool over her for the better part of four years. While you may think staring at her with a lovestruck expression will magically will her into falling in love with you like the plot of a bad Katherine Heigle movie, you’re only going to give her the feeling that she’s being watched. And girls like that hate being watched.”

“How would you know?” Ned came to his friends defense.

“I’m very observant. She’s also my bio partner and told me she hates being watched.” MJ shrugged and shifted her eyes back to her book.

“Did you hear that, Peter? She hates being watched. That’s so adorable of her.” Ned gushed and let out a sigh.

“Do you talk to her a lot in bio? Is she nice?” Peter asked, curious to know something personal about you.

“She brings me a granola bar every day because she noticed that I forget to eat during lunch if I’m reading. Do you know what that means?” MJ cocked her head.

“She’s charitable.” Peter smiled dreamily and sunk back into his hands.

“I heard she gave a dollar to a homeless person once and he used it to found a company that like, cured eczema or something.” Ned nodded in excitement and Peter hung on to every fabricated word.

“It means you don’t have a chance.” MJ deadpanned. “She’s basically the most perfect human being I’ve ever met. She’s not gonna fall in love with you. You guys are at the bottom of the food chain.”

“I know.” Peter said softly, trying to mask the hurt in his voice. “I just like looking at her.”

“Well quit staring. You look like a stalker.” MJ smirked as she turned her page.

“Dudes, is she coming closer or am I hallucinating again?” Ned patted Peters arm repeatedly until he looked your way. His mouth went dry as you approached his table with a clipboard in your hand.

“She’s coming closer.” MJ confirmed. “Try not to embarrass yourself too much, his royal shyness.”

“Hey, guys. How’s your lunch going?” You asked once you got to the table. Peter and Ned’s jaws dropped as their shared brain cell struggled to find words to say.

“Food good.” Ned grunted out and you let out a laugh.

“Yeah, food is good.” You nodded and looked over at Peter. “Is that a gogurt, Peter?”

“Uh, my aunt packed it. I usually eat big boy yogurt. I mean” he cleared his throat and deepened his voice, “man yogurt.”

“Man yogurt?” MJ grimaced.

“I remember seeing gogurt commercials as a kid and wishing I could dye my hair to look like the pink and blue one.” You smiled softly and touched the end of your hair. “That’s sweet that your aunt still packs your lunch.”

“Well I - - she, sometimes, um - and then she, yeah.” Peter stuttered and shook his head to collect himself. He took a second gogurt out of his lunch box and held it out to you. “Here. She packed me an extra today.”

Your eyes widened like a child as you took the tube from him. He smiled softly at the sight of your excitement and wondered why a random nerd giving you gogurt made you so happy.

“Thank you.” You smiled widely and checked the flavor. “And it’s my favorite kind.”

You and Peter looked at each other for a moment and he felt himself relax. It wasn’t often he got to look at you up close. A lot of his staring was done from afar when you couldn’t see him. Now you were close enough for him to smell your perfume and he didn’t know how to act. He just gazed at you until he heard a chuckled from MJ.

“Hey Michelle. Are you eating or reading over there?” You teased her as you lightly smacked the back of her head.

“I was reading but now I’m watching two dorks struggle to talk to a pretty girl.” She said as she nodded towards Peter and Ned.

“Well I just wanted to ask if you guys were coming to the dance next Friday. I’m head of the planning committee so it’s kinda like my baby. All the details are on that banner over there.” You said as you pointed to the banner behind you.

“Banner good.” Ned nodded eagerly and you laughed again.

“Thank you! I painted it myself.” You told him. “I wasn’t sure about the red and blue but I think it looks all right.”

“I like red and blue, too.” Peter spoke up and you shot him a wink.

“Peter knows his colors!” MJ said in a baby voice. “Do you like trucks and chu chu trains too?”

“Leave him alone, Michelle.” You emphasized her name to taunt her and she stuck her tongue out at you. “Ignore her. She’s not her when she’s hungry.”

Not knowing what to say, Peter nodded and softened his eyes. This was the most he had ever spoken to you, and it was better than all of the conversations with you he had made up in his head. He opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. He was finally talking to his long time crush and all he had given you was a gogurt.

“I know Michelle isn’t much of a dancer, but what about you guys? Do you think you’ll come?” You brought the conversation back to the dance when you saw Peter struggling.

“Me like dance. Skirt look good today.” Ned gave you a thumbs up and you looked down at your skirt in amusement.

“Dude, you’re talking like a caveman.” Peter whispered harshly.

“Is he okay?” You asked Peter. You pointed to Ned, who was locked in a trance as he stared at you. Drool was begging to form on his lip.

“I think he’s having a stroke.” Peter said honestly.

“I think he might be dead.” MJ added. “Guess he can’t go to the dance either.

“Okay, um, well I hope you can come then, Peter. It should be a lot of fun.” You smiled at him and tapped the gogurt tube against your head. “See you around.”

“Bye.” Peter squeaked as you walked away, keeping his eyes on you until you were out of view.

“Did you hear that Peter?” Ned shook his arm. “She hopes you come! Wait…”

“That was painful to watch. That, that made me itchy.” MJ concluded.

“Did she just ask me out?” Peter whispered to himself.

“Not at all.” MJ tilted her head in confusion.

“But she said she hopes to see me there. She wants me at her dance. And by correlation, she wants me.” Peters eyes widened as he connected the dots.

“This is like watching the scene where the misunderstood character becomes the villain.” MJ feared for Peters sanity.

“I have to go to that dance. I have to see her.” Peter realized as he turned towards Ned. Ned was already staring off in your direction, watching you give your clipboard out for people to sign.

“Look at her. She looks so cute when she’s asking people to come to the dance she planned.” Ned gushed.

“I bet she planned it better than any dance has ever been planned.” Peter fell back into his trance upon seeing your smile as you passed around the clipboard.

“My original statement stands.” MJ sighed and went back to her book. “You guys are losers.”

Peter kept a smile on his face as he carried his science fair project to his locker, the warm feeling inside still lingering from your conversation. It only faltered when he sensed Flash coming up behind him, cocky smirk already prevalent on his face. He smacked the books out of Peters hands and let out a snarky laugh.

“What’s up, Penis Parker? Is this your nerd-vention for the science fair? I heard you have a real shot this year since they’re giving extra points to virgins. Let me see how it works.” Flash poker at the lego lamp Peter was holding and tried to press the on button.

“Leave me alone, Flash. Get your raccoon hands away from it.” Peter sharply moved his project away from Flash, shielding it with his hands as he went.

“Come on. I just want to see how your little project works. Don’t I get a sneak peak?” Flash whined as he reached for the lamp again, managed to knock a few bricks off.

“No. You don’t.” Peter snapped, regretting his words when Flash got an amused look in his eyes.

“Did Penis Parker just tell me no? I don’t know how I feel about that. I think I should do something about it.” Flash said through gritted teeth as he took a step closer to Peter.

“Peter!” You came from behind and wrapped your arms around Peters shoulders, making his and Flash’s eyes widen. “I’ve missed you all day. Why haven’t you been texting me back?”

“What?” Peter asked in exasperation as he turned around. You let your hand slide down his arm and took his hand, all while giving him a sweet smile.

“I sent you like a million texts, baby. Did you not get them?” You tilted your head and silently told Peter to go along with it.

“No way. Not possible.” Flash laughed abruptly. “You’re dating Penis Parker?”

“After I practically had to beg him to give me a chance, yeah.” You nodded and rested your head on Peters shoulder. “I still can’t believe we’re together. I can totally see why you guys call him Penis Parker.” You winked at Flash and he started to gag. It took Peter a minute to get the joke but when he did, it made the situation that much better.

“There is no way a girl as hot as Y/n is dating a loser like Freddie Benson over here.” Flash folded his arms and shook his head. “Am I being pranked? Is there a camera around here? Holy shit, am I gonna be on TV?”

“It’s not a prank, Flash. Peter and I really together. Right, baby?” You turned to Peter and brushed some hair off his forehead, something you’d been wanting to do all day.

“Right.” Peter said confidently and you smiled at him for taking the hint. He adjusted his grip on your hand to be more natural, taking notice of the way it fit in his like it was made just for him.

“So you guys are going to the dance together, I assume?” Flash tested. Peter looked to you in a panic but you were unfazed.

“Yep. Peter asked me last night after surprising me with a bouquet of daisies.” You gushed and rubbed Peters arm, pulling away a little in surprise when you felt his incredibly firm bicep. “Isn’t that cute? It’s because he calls me his daisy.”

“Then I guess I’ll see you guys there. Together.” Flash tried to test you but you didn’t back down.

“Yes you will. Bye Flash.” You waved goodbye to him and he scoffed before leaving. As soon as he was out of earshot, you turned to Peter and assessed the damage on his LEGO lamp.

“Did he break it?” You asked as you put your hands over Peters shaking ones to help him steady the board he was carrying the lamp on.

“I’m Peter.” He blurted and you laughed softly.

“We had a conversation an hour ago where I used your name several times. I know your name is Peter.” You told him as you picked up the books Flash had knocked down.

“My last name is Parker.” He nodded, knowing he was blowing it with you but not knowing how to stop it.

“I know that too.” You assured him. “This is really cool, by the way. Did you make this all by yourself?”

“Well, I, yeah.” Peter kept his eyes on his project, finding it easier to talk when he wasn’t looking at you.

“Looks like he knocked this part off. He’s such an idiot some- all of the time.” You corrected yourself. “Is it gonna be hard to fix? I know the science fair is this Friday.”

“No. It’s just legos, see?” Peter put a few red bricks back in their place. “I just have to get Ned to help me glue the pieces down.”

“I never had legos as a kid. My mom thought it would make me a tomboy.” You laughed shortly and Peter noticed a sadness in your eyes. “I uh, I heard you and Ned talking about the Death Star the other day. It sounded pretty cool. Do you have a lot of sets?”

“Not that many. Only 12.” He told you, wondering why you were interested in something like that. He always assumed a girl of your popularity and status would find a LEGO Death Star completely lame.

“12?” You were impressed. “Which ones your favorite?”

“The Ferris wheel.” He answered without thinking. “It has a motor so it really turns.”

“Can I see it?” You asked and he laughed nervously.

“It’s at my house, so…” He trailed off when you nodded like you already understood where it was.

“Do you want to come over?” He asked as more of a question than an offer. He couldn’t think of a single reason that you would want to go to his apartment.

“Would that be all right? I’ve always wanted to play with legos.” You said sheepishly and he opened his mouth in pleasant surprise.

“People are gonna talk if they see us walking home together.” He reminded you and you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Who cares?” You handed him his back back and took his hand. “You’re my boyfriend now, aren’t you?”

“I-“ Peter tensed and felt every word he knew leave his brain as he struggled to string together a sentence.

“Hey, relax. I’m only kidding.” You squeezed his hand and he calmed down. “Fake boyfriend, remember? I do want to play with legos, though.”

“I can help you out with that.” He said stiffly and you tugged him towards the doors.

“Come on, then.” You pulled him outside and the warm air hit his face, reminding him that he wasn’t sleeping.

“Okay.” He smiled to himself as he lead you towards his apartment as he held your hand. If you clocked the stunned looks from other students as you passed by, you didn’t show it. Peter was living out his greatest fantasy and you were acting like nothing was out of the ordinary. Determined not to blow this once in a lifetime chance with you, he kept his pace up and fell into an easy stride beside you. You did most of the talking as you walked towards his apartment, which Peter was grateful for. He was able to sneak you past May and braced himself for what could possibly happen next as he opened the door to his bedroom.

Tag List 🏷

@a-villain-vying-for-attention @wendaiii @dorbiksbitch @t-monosapiens-h @badhollandfluff @silteplaittais-toi @thisisthebiplace @seasidecrowbar

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x popular!reader #peter parker fake dating #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

potionsprefect · 3 years

Text

One Split Second

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: An incident in the hospital sends shockwaves

Rating: T

Category: angst/trauma (but there’s a happy ending)

Victoria Clarke walked the corridors of Bloom Edenbrook, smiling to fellow doctors and nurses who were attending to patients. She headed over to the admin desk to pick up a new patient chart, having previously discharged her last one.

“Hi Ines. Any interesting cases come in today?” Victoria asked as she approached the doctor.

“Hiya Victoria. Take your pick. The sooner we discharge these patients, the better. How’s the wedding planning coming along?” Ines replied brightly.

“We’re getting there. These last few months are stressful making sure everything’s in order. I’ve already fallen out with my sister-in-law twice over my nieces bridesmaid dress.” Victoria sighed.

“Oh no. I’m sorry to hear that. What was it over? Angie had a similar problem with hers and opted for none in the end!” Ines laughed slightly.

“I wanted my niece Isabella to wear a headband on the day but my sister-in-law disagreed saying she would find it itchy. She wanted her to wear a flower crown but I’m not a big fan of those. This was two weeks ago and we haven’t really spoken since.” Victoria sighed.

Victoria loved her sister in law Erin but she really wished she had listened to what she was trying to point out. Erin was adamant that Isabella wouldn’t wear the headband but Victoria had said she had worn them before. Erin said she knew her daughter best and that she wouldn’t wear one and Victoria couldn’t persuade her. They hadn’t spoken since.

“Oh I’m sorry. Nine times out of ten the stress leading up to a wedding is usually always something to do with bridesmaids. But all of that won’t spoil your big day! I’m so excited for you!”

“Thanks Ines.” Victoria smiled.

“Instead of taking your pick, I’ve got one case here for you.” Ines pointed to the whiteboard. “It’s just been assigned to you which I found a little strange but I guess it’s nothing abnormal. Here’s the chart.” Ines handed Victoria a standard looking chart.

“Thanks Ines” Victoria smiled as she walked off down the corridor and into the elevator to see the said patient.

Her route to the patients room took her past her fiancé’s office. She saw him through the window, working away at the laptop in front of him. Victoria made a mental note to go visit him once she has assessed her new patient.

Finding the correct room, Victoria opened the door and noticed the curtains were drawn around the bed.

“Mr Embleton?” Victoria pulled back the curtain and froze in her steps.

“Well well well. Hello Victoria. What a nice surprise seeing you here.” A young man smirked from his bedside.

“George Embleton?! What are you doing here?” Victoria stepped back.

“What does it look like I’m doing here? I’ve injured my leg. I need stitches.” George pointed to his leg. “And you’re going to be the one to do it.”

“Why me?”

“Because I said so.” George replied.

Victoria eyed the young man she had once been at school with. He had always been a nasty piece of work. What was he doing in Boston?

Victoria grabbed the suturing kit and pulled up a stool and set to work on stitching George’s leg. Victoria could just see out the corner of his eye him watching her, almost as if he was waiting for her to make a mistake.

“So what are you doing here in Boston?”

“A simple hello would’ve sufficed. But as you’re clearly so desperate, I’m here for a conference. Not that it’s any of your business.” George replied.

“Part of my job is to make conversation to keep the patients at ease, whether I know them or not is irrelevant.” Victoria replied not looking up from her work.

“You always were a mouthy little cow at school, shame your attitude hasn’t changed.”

“And you’re still treating me like you did all these years later. And for the record, the Wilkinson School of Dancing thought I was amazing, no matter what your little friends told you.” Victoria looked up at him.

“Keep telling yourself that Clarke, I’m not the one who fumbled up a big performance.” George shrugged.

“Only after you shouted out that you’d seen less fat on a piece of steak than my thighs.” Victoria said eyes burning with tears.

Dance used to be her life. She thought about becoming a professional dancer instead of a doctor but that one performance shattered her confidence that she never danced in front of an audience again.

“Wasn’t lying though was I?”

“Not even your friends could persuade you to dial it down a bit. Did someone hurt you in another life and you were reborn so you could be hellbent on getting revenge?” Victoria hit back. He wasn’t going to come here and terrorise her. Not now and not ever.

“Shut your mouth.” George snapped.

“Luckily for you I will. Because I’m done. I’ll get you your discharge paper and you can get the hell out of here so I never have to see your face again.” Victoria said standing up.

As Victoria turned her back, what she didn’t know was that George had a lighter in his hand and a cigarette in the other. She also didn’t notice when she originally walked into the room that he had an IV in his arm.

What happened next, seemed to happen in slow motion. George flicked the lighter and Victoria found herself thrown to the floor, her ears ringing, vision blurry, she could just about make out an orange flame before everything went black

— — — — —

Ethan headed down the stairs, a small spring in his step. Life really couldn’t be much better. He was about to marry the love of his life in a few months and he was looking forward to starting a new life with her.

“Doctor Ramsey!” A voice called behind him. Ethan turned round to see Sienna walking towards him, chart in hand.

“Doctor Trinh.” Ethan nodded as she came and stood next to him.

“I just wanted to check that you are ok. Victoria mentioned she was having a slight disagreement with her sister in law over wedding planning and I wanted to check that you’re not caught in the middle.”

“That’s very kind of you Sienna.” Ethan chuckled.

“Just trying to be a better person every chance I get.” Sienna shrugged.

“There’s a lot of people out in the world who would be grateful for you checking up on them. I am definitely one of them.” Ethan smiled.

“Thank you. So tell me. Has the storm weathered or are the clouds still rolling?” Sienna laughed a little.

“To be honest it’s just raining at this point. They haven’t spoken since but the storm clouds have evaporated. William and I are trying to make peace but Erin is standing firm by her decision.” Ethan sighed.

“I’m sure she’ll come around. It’s Victoria’s and your wedding in the end. What Victoria wants should be the final decision.” Sienna said.

“I hope so. I just don’t want that to overshadow the big day.”

“It won’t. All that matters that day is you two and your happiness. Besides, we’ve all been planning a special present for the two of you so even if the wedding goes wrong, you’ll have something to cheer you up.” Sienna laughed a little.

“Thanks Sienna, although I hope-“

BOOM!

The noise was deafening. Everyone within a few feet of the blast were thrown off their feet. Glass shattered everywhere and there was the smell of smoke and a bright orange flame.

Ethan lifted his head and saw others slowly getting to their feet. He looked round and saw Sienna lying a few feet away, covered in blood.

“Sienna! Are you okay?” Ethan moved over to her, helping her get to her feet.

“Yeah I think so. Is that blood?” She felt her forehead and felt something sticky. “Oh god.”

“Go and get yourself cleaned up.” Ethan said.

“No no I’m okay. I’ll be fine.” Sienna insisted. “Where did this explosion come from?”

“I don’t know. We need to open this door.” Ethan said.

He decided to break the door down not knowing what to expect behind it. Once he kicked the door off it’s hinges his heart stopped.

There on the floor, laid his beautiful fiancé. Ethan dropped to his knees and cradled her head in his hands, tears forming in his eyes.

“Oh my god!” Sienna cried. “I’ll go grab a gurney!” She hurried off and came back with two nurses who were pushing a gurney.

“Do blood work and get her vitals. And we need a head CT just to be sure.” Ethan barked as he picked up his soon to be bride and laid her gently on the gurney.

“Got it, we’ll look after her.” Sienna reassured him. She knew he wanted to stay but his anger was high. He needed to stay calm and seeing Victoria how she was wasn’t going to help anyone.

“Sienna-“

“No Ethan. She’ll be okay. She’s in safe hands. Help others who are injured and find out what the hell has happened.” Sienna instructed as she wheeled Victoria away to a trauma room.

Ethan watched her be wheeled away by the nurses, panic still rushing though his veins. His thoughts were interrupted by an object approaching him out the corner of his eye.

“I am here to help. Please do not interfere with my work.” Binx’s cheery voice echoed.

“Yes yes carry on you overgrown pile of nuisance.” Ethan huffed.

“You sound angry. I am trained to-“

Ethan punched him.

�� — — — —

The bright lights were beginning to irritate her, voices swarmed around, not to mention the pounding as if someone was hitting her head with a hammer.

“I think she’s waking up!” A familiar voice said. Victoria opened her eyes to see a dozen pair of eyes looking down at her.

“Victoria? Can you hear me?” Sienna voice said.

“Yeah I... what happened?” Victoria said groggily.

“There was an explosion in one of the rooms. Luckily you’re not too badly injured.” Sienna replied.

“Shame about the other guy.” Jackie said.

“Other guy?” Victoria asked. Then it hit her. “Oh my god! My patient!” Victoria sat up.

“Woah Vic calm down! He’s okay. Well kind of. He wasn’t badly injured, but he was arrested.” Bryce said from the foot of the bed.

“What?!”

“Yeah it turns out the saline bags had ether in them, one spark and then everything just blew up. He apparently had a lighter in his pocket.” Elijah said.

“He said he knew you. Who was he?” Rafael asked from where he was sat.

“I... I went to school with him. He used to bully me relentless.” Victoria sighed.

“So how comes you were assigned to him?” Sienna asked.

“I may have an answer to that.” Jackie said. Everyone looked at her as she turned to Victoria, looking at her sympathetically. “You know the lab technician Eliza Fitzgerald? Turns out they’re cousins. She was the one who put the saline bags in even though he didn’t require them. And she put your name on the board at his request. They’re both in custody now.”

“But why?” Bryce said.

“Because he hates me. And he clearly wanted to step everything up a notch.” Victoria said tears rolling down her face.

“We’d never let anyone hurt you. You’ll always have us and Ethan.” Sienna put an arm around her.

“Speaking of Ethan why isn’t he round my bedside? And where’s Aurora?”

“Patching up your fiancées hand. He and Binx had an unfortunate encounter earlier.” Elijah chuckled.

“It was quite a sight to see.” Rafael laughed.

“He’s also barking out orders to the hospital board about employee safety. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Naveen look so wary of him.” Jackie said.

“I’ve made a mental note to never cross Ramsey’s path.” Bryce chuckled.

“I’ll page him, we’ll come by and see you tomorrow.” Sienna gave Victoria a hug. The rest of the group filtered out the room as Victoria gazed out into the dark sky, the city sparkling under the moonlight.

“You need to stop scaring me Rookie.” A voice suddenly said. Victoria looked towards the door to see her fiancée hurrying over to her bed, wrapping her up in his arms when he got close enough.

“I’m so sorry Ethan.” Victoria sighed leaning into his embrace.

“What on earth are you apologising for? You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” Ethan said kissing her cheek, running a hand through her hair. “Dr Varma explained everything to me.”

“I thought I could handle it. I had no idea what he was doing.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me. He’s locked up, far away from you, he can’t hurt you again.”

“I know and I’m glad. Although from what I’ve heard, it sounds like I’m not the only one who ran into an old foe today.” Victoria chuckled slightly, picking up Ethan’s hand that was wrapped in a bandage and kissed it.

“That calculator made its final equation.” Ethan chuckled resting his chin on top of Victoria’s head.

“I wish I was there to see it.” Victoria smiled.

“You wouldn’t have stopped talking about it for weeks.”

“Of course. And I think everyone would be gossiping as well. I heard you went to the boards and gave them a tough time.”

“I did what I was obliged to do, not just as your fiancé but as your boss. Our doctors should be safe when they are in work, everything could’ve ended up so different tonight.” Ethan sighed.

“Luckily it didn’t.” Victoria smiled.

“Indeed. I love you, you know.” Ethan looked at her, cupping her face in his hands.

“I love you too. I can’t wait to marry you.” Victoria smiled.

“And I can’t wait to marry you.” Ethan smiled kissing her passionately. The two began to lose themselves in each other’s kiss before the vibrating of a phone forced them to break apart.

“Who’s that?” Ethan kissed her cheek, nuzzling his nose there.

“It’s Erin.” Victoria said confused. “You were right, I’m sorry.” She looked at Ethan.

“Sounds like she’s willing to compromise about the headband.” Ethan chuckled tightening his arms around her.

“Sounds like she is.” Victoria stared at her phone.

“Come on, you need sleep.” Ethan took her phone and put it away and forced Victoria to lie down before he laid down next to her.

“Are you staying the night?” Victoria looked up at him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Ethan replied.

“Good. I want a cuddle.”

“You always want a cuddle.”

“You give the best cuddles, I always want more.”

The couple drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

— — — — —

Well that was a ride! But we love a happy ending!

Let me know if you would like to be tagged

Tag list:

@ohchoices @openheartfan @queencarb @genevievemd @iemcpbchoices @choicesaddict5 @schnitzelbutterfingers @alina-yol-ramsey @stygianflood @malakemads-blog @gryffindordaughterofathena @magicalshepherdtreeprofessor @openheartfanfics @rookie-ramsey @sophxwithers @caseyvalentineramsey @romewritingshop @ethansramsey @codykosuckmytoe @mrsethanfreakingramsey @coffeeheartaddict @mm2305 @nikki-2406 @maurine07 @nishas-paradise @replayfootsteps @mainstreetreader @anntoldst0ries

@choicesficwriterscreations

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke #Ethan x Victoria #playchoices #open heart fanfic #open heart fanfiction #angst #fluff #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week #choices: open heart

76 notes · View notes

comfyswitcherblanketfort · 3 years

Text

Wash Day

Yall I just really want Trisskel to be a solid couple from like, day one and be happy and in love and hhhnnngggg. I have feelings. (specifically Netflix Triss and Game Eskel)

Summary: Modern AU Eskel helps Triss with wash day when she cant use her arms.

Warnings: Mentions of burn injuries and burns in healing process, nothing gorey, just the mention of scabs, temporary dependency, dealing with the shitty mental part of recovering from major injuries/surgeries - not fucking bathing, eskel is not flexible and tries so hard to do things right. bless, lol swearing as is usual

I’d like to put a little disclaimer that I did a bunch of natural hair care research for this but I have no experience save from helping my friend diffuse her hair before class.

________________

Triss groaned and tossed her phone to the other end of the couch she was perched on, wiping her one good hand over her face. Her burns over her chest still weren’t allowing her much range of motion with her right arm and her hair was starting to drive her absolutely insane. Yennefer was going to come over and help with wash day, but Ciri got in a fight at school, leaving Triss to sit with an itchy, ratted, and, frankly, horrendous head of hair.

She leaned her head back against the arm of the couch and sighed, not even able to adjust the bun Eskel had helped her with that morning.

Speaking of…

She scooted over the couch to pick up her phone, tapping the little call icon under his nickname, “Hey, Yen can’t come over tonight. No need to pick up the wine,” she sighed.

“Are you sure? Nothing wrong with a little treat, babe.”

“I’m sure. It was more for her efforts than my treat anyway.”

“If you say so… How are you feeling?”

“Less shit than this morning. I’m just tired,” she didn’t add the feeling of hopelessness that went along with not even being able to bathe on her own. He worried enough for the both of them and then some.

“I’m picking up the good wine. I’ve got one more client then I’m done. Maybe take a nap?”

“Skel…”

“I will spoil you if I want to. Oh! Look! There’s my 3:30! Bye Bug! Love you!” he hung up on her before she could protest.

She rolled her eyes as she lowered the phone into her lap, smiling a little despite her annoyance.

Gingerly, she made her way to their bedroom and laid down, running the risk of taking out the bun to lay comfortably. She turned on a podcast she told Jask she’d listen to and hoped to zone out at the least, if not actually sleep.

Triss was woken by Eskel stomping in their front door and dropping his gym bag with a dramatic thud. A few moments later she could hear grocery bags settling on the kitchen counter, the distinct sound of wine bottles bumping together reminding her what he probably had planned.

She ever so slowly tipped over and pushed herself up with her left hand, catching a horrifying full-body reflection in the mirrored closet doors.

The scabs and little spots that were still bandaged she was starting to get used to, but the rest of her? Looking at herself in sweats that hadn’t been changed in two days, a summer tank top with no bra and coffee stains, and mismatching fuzzy christmas socks was… difficult. Her hair was wild, all the curls stretched out and sticking together in big frizzy clumps that stuck out at odd angles.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It had only been four weeks. No one was going to be back to normal after four weeks. Her body was using all its energy to heal, not look put together.

Regardless of her efforts she felt the tears well up in her eyes and her breath hitch with the effort of holding them back.

It still fucking sucked.

Eskel’s soft touch on her thigh made her jump, “Is it hurting again?”

She shook her head, opening her eyes to see him knelt in front of her with his eyebrows drawn up in worry, “No. I’m okay,” she whispered, pulling herself together and resting her hand over his.

Eskel tilted his head, “Then what’s wrong?”

“I… I look like I fell down the garbage chute,” she laughed. It wasn’t her usual, musical laugh, though. She laughed because she knew, in the grand scheme of things, it was ridiculous. It felt stupid to be worried about how she looked when she’d lived and, well, laughing was better than more tears.

“You’re always lovely to me,” Eskel hummed, brushing her tears away with the back of his knuckles.

She leaned into his touch and took a steadying breath, “I just don’t feel like me.”

He stretched up to kiss her forehead, “I’m sorry, Bug.”

She just shrugged and squeezed his hand.

“Yen called. I got a very long lecture on wash day and firm orders to help you wash and deep condition your hair. If you’re feeling up to it,” Eskel flashed that crooked grin she could never resist and she shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Are you prepared to follow instructions?” she teased.

“Babe,” he raised one eyebrow, “the only instructions I don’t follow are on Top Ramen packs.”

Eskel seemed to have confused ‘instruction’ with ‘directions’.

“I swear to God, Eskel. You don’t have to read the ‘how to use’ blurb,” Triss groaned, sitting on a kitchen chair they’d moved into the bathroom with dripping wet hair, “Just section off my hair and do what I tell you.”

“But I don’t want to use too much,” he protested, “This says to use one tablespoon!”

“Yeah! For natural blondes! I have completely different hair and know what I’m doing. Use half the bottle! I don’t care! Just get it fucking clean!”

Eskel rested his hand on her good shoulder and gave her an apologetic look in the mirror, “I’m sorry. How many sections do you want?”

“I- it’s not a number. You just- kneel down for me I’ll show you,” she pointed at the floor next to her and sighed, missing Yen more than ever. She drew little lines with her nails through Eskel’s hair as she explained just how to scrub while making the least amount of tangles possible. He watched her in the mirror and pointed to the points on her scalp she was talking about with a look of serious concentration.

It was cute. Even if he was a little inflexible he really did want to do a good job.

Conditioner was easier, even combing out the tangles went fairly smooth. They took a break and made dinner, breaking open the good wine.

Just having her hair down and somewhat bouncy again made Triss feel a million times better. The sweats were exchanged for yoga pants and the tank top for one of Eskel’s sweaters too. It almost felt normal.

They ate ice cream while he worked the deep conditioning mask through her hair.

“You sure I’m not using too much?” he asked, leaning over her shoulder to take the bite she held up for him, nice and small so he didn’t get a brain freeze.

“Fbe moreb fbe bedder,” she tried speaking around a giant bite of ice cream, giggling at the face of confusion he made with the spoon still sticking out of his mouth.

She swallowed and scrunched her nose at the light brain freeze, “The more, the better. We’ll rinse it out in the morning and I don’t want any dry spots.”

He nodded and waited for her to take the spoon back before getting back to work, “Yes ma’am.”

“Mmm, I like that.”

Eskel rolled his eyes as she let down a new section, “Oh do you, now? I had no idea.”

“Mhm!” she nodded with a proud smile, taking another bite of ice cream and earning a chuckle from him.

She walked him through a couple rough twists and adjusting the plastic soaking cap before attempting to explain how to tie a headscarf. He was… truly awful. Somehow she ended up almost blindfolded before she just gave up and found him a video to follow. It took him a few tries, but eventually he got it the right level of snug. I

She tried to tilt her head back to look at him but that pulled at some of her new scar tissue, so she tried another angle and another before she huffed and resorted to standing up to look at him, “Thank you Skel.”

“No problem, Bug,” he hummed, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her nose.

Triss laid her head on his chest, the perfect height for him to rest his chin on top of her head, “No, I mean it. It… helps. A lot.”

He rubbed soothing circles over her back, swaying them slightly, “I’m just glad I could do something…” he took a breath like he wanted to say something more but settled for pressing a kiss to the sloppily tied scarf. She hummed and leaned into him, snaking her hands around his hips and up under his shirt to rest over his back dimples.

Triss could have stayed there forever.

108 notes · View notes

beautifulletdownfics · 3 years

Text

Terrible to Meet You - A Harry Styles One Shot - Act 3, Hearts beat not fail

Harry wants to get out of the house. Alex wants to get home.

Alex meets Harry at at crossroads. Harry meets Alex on a one way street.

A coffee shop OU fic feat. lattes, lamingtons & that Great Unfathomable Feeling.

Story Page Here My Masterlist Here

Read Act 1 & 2 Here

Four Walls 'I wanna make you feel how I feel when I'm listening to love songs'

For their first date, Harry took Alex to his favourite spot at the top of Golders Hill Park, the place with the view that often derailed his outdoor runs, it was so breathtaking.

For the two weeks leading up to him asking her, Harry made an effort to occasionally visit The Daily Dose in the afternoon as well as his daily morning visit.

On those afternoons he and Alex would usually end up in the park near the cafe-—just like that first time—spending hours talking about what they were watching or reading or telling each other about friends or family members, travel adventures and failures. Once, Harry listened to Alex list her top five arguments between her flatmates, which ranged from week-long silent treatments over unstacking the dishwasher to a year-long war over missing socks. Alex liked hearing about all the things Harry loved about being back home in London indefinitely. Harry's favourite thing was when Alex got passionate and started 'swearing in Australian' as he phrased it.

When he admitted to only knowing Australian music to be the likes of Kylie Minogue, Keith Urban and Gotye, Alex vowed to educate him. Later that evening, a text came through a link to a Spotify playlist and Harry listened to nothing else for months.

Neither said it to the other, but as their hearts watched their exchanges—beady little eyes flicking back and forth like tennis spectators inside rib cages—there was a sense a story was unravelling before them Harry and Alex were powerless to control. Harry saw it all as instantly as a human could, while Alex needed half an inch of beckoning to read along with the words on their page. How perfectly two stars aligned—one coming home while the other looked to a home on the too-far horizon.

Alex hadn't ever felt comfortable with someone so quickly, and it was rare for attraction to last for her. Romantically, her endeavours in London always fell a little flat, and she generally ended up on dates with other Australians. Or Kiwis.

Harry went against what she'd experienced before; he made eye contact, and he was attentive in conversations, he remembered little things and threads between her stories that made Alex feel heard and seen. He teased when she swore too much and asked questions when he didn't know something.

So, when Harry lay the picnic rug for them on the grass, only to discover it was covered in muddy paw prints and hair, she enjoyed the opportunity to laugh at him, and to be comforted by the nerves he rarely showed as he kicked the back of the rug in haste trying to clean it off. He lay it back down and sheepishly admitted it was usually for saving his sister's dog from messing up the back seats of his car when Harry dog-sat for her.

He looked flustered and thrown, and Alex thought it was perfect.

"Do you think Paul's face is permanently going to look like that?" Harry asked, waiting for her to glance over at him before doing his best rendition of Paul's smug expression. She laughed as Harry went back to pulling out the provisions he'd brought with him; snacks and water, a book for Alex to borrow, his film camera and then finally, a small, cardboard box from a bakery in East London he was anxious to give her. Alex put down the coffees they'd brought with them from The Daily Dose (Harry was proudly calling his a long black now) as Harry handed her what he hoped would be his silver bullet.

He glanced back up at her where she was standing to the side, taking in the park around them. He was glad he seemed to have taken her to somewhere new. This was his favourite place in London. Before Harry picked her up, Alex swapped her work clothes for a blue and white dress with just two thin straps up over her shoulders. Harry couldn't keep his eyes from settling on the freckles over her collarbones, he was utterly entranced by the newly exposed skin. She only got more attractive to him, although as he nearly spilled the honey almonds everywhere, he was sure the catalogue of moments where he looked like an idiot in front of her only grew.

"It's his universe stuff again," she adjusted the sunglasses on her nose, and shut her eyes beneath her glasses, tuning into the feeling of warmth from the sun around them. She was thinking about how the heat in London felt utterly different from the summers at home. The summer she'd give anything for right now, along with the feeling of home. In summer London got warm, but it didn't swelter like she craved. It was a crisp, clean warmness that she felt safe basking in. At home, weeks of heat started to feel suffocating and heavy.

"Does he still think I'm your cosmic event?" Harry asked after a quiet moment, thinking of Paul's declaration from a few days before. The two hearts leaned in closer, Harry's holding a hand out to Alex's.

Alex hummed out a sound that could go either way, turning around to see if she could help Harry setting up at all, "He also thinks Brad and Jen are going to get back together."

Harry squinted up at her, trying to appear unbothered as he patted the rug in invitation, "Could still happen though, right?"

Taking the few steps to the edge of the rug, she looked at him, taking in the way his bottom lip was pulled between his teeth. Was he talking about the celebrity couple or … "Maybe?"

It wasn't a conversation for their first date though, so Harry diverted it, "I'm still holding out hope for Ross and Rachel, to be honest."

When they were settled in their spot on the side of the hill, the expanse of parkland in front of them, Harry stretched his legs out lazily in front of him, watching as Alex lowered herself down and crossed hers in a pretzel sit beside him. He was hyper-aware of the spot on the side of his left thigh Alex's knee lightly pressed up against. Neither of them moved away from the other.

Slowly, Alex turned her attention back to the box, "What's this?"

"Open it," Harry smiled, "I got you something."

Alex felt her cheeks heat as he watched her fold back the top to reveal what was sitting inside.

Lamingtons.

Harry brought her lamingtons.

"How did you know about these?" Alex marvelled.

"I Googled 'How to get an Australian to fall for you', and this was Step One."

Alex felt her cheeks warm further and saw Harry notice it, "That's not something you can Google, surely."

He grinned back at her, itchy on the inside somehow and tingling all over, "I think at this point, you can Google literally anything."

Alex picked one up and held it between her fingers, struggling to take in the gesture of it. As she chewed through her first, tentative bite she thought of making the small cakes in her grandmother's kitchen during school holidays. They were such a nostalgic food, one that Alex hadn't thought about for a long time. As soon as Harry opened the box though, she was back to being ten-years-old, her feet sticking to the lino of her grandparent's kitchen while all her cousins, sandy and pink from the beach, fought over the plate while being scolded for flinging coconut pieces up the walls.

She took another bite of the lamington and a sip of her tea.

"These are bloody good," Harry's voice was muffled by his mouthful of chocolate, coconut sponge.

Alex laughed at him, "They're one of my favourites."

Harry's face lit up instantly, he'd hit the mark perfectly. He took the next step tentatively, "I really like you, Alex."

"I really like you too," Alex looked up at him, finding the words surprisingly easy to conjure despite the fact hearing them from Harry drilled a shaking fear through her. Her feelings all clicked into place a little too quickly with his, or so it seemed. She didn't know how to square the want for him with her need to leave, to get home. Nothing in her was as sure as the longing for Australia.

His gaze on her was expressionless, but not in an unsettling way, Harry was merely watching her, and Alex found herself calming, and settling into the moment. In fact, she watched him right back, as if hunting for the next piece in whatever puzzle they'd started together.

An exacerbated laugh let her lips eventually, and Harry's expression changed to silently question what was going through her head.

She was grinning at him from her spot beside him, hair framing her face as the sky behind them warmed with the sunset, "Doesn't this feel a little surreal?"

Harry could put his finger on the shared feeling immediately, "Feels like we've done this before, doesn't it?"

She nodded, "What was Step Two?" Alex asked him.

&&&

It rained.

Which, in hindsight, Harry should have made provisions for. It started lightly, and he and Alex stopped talking and looked at each other in shock. She held out her palm to the sky and started laughing while they both waited to see whether it was a passing sun shower or something that would settle in.

Only a few minutes later, they were scrambling into Harry's car almost completely drenched through. Alex hadn't stopped laughing, which Harry took to be a good thing, and it was contagious because he found himself with a sore stomach from his own laughter as well.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed out, wiping the hair from his forehead.

"When it rains, it pours here, doesn't it," Alex held herself in an upright position leaning forward to avoid her warm, wet skin sticking to Harry's seats. Her arms hung in the air in front of her as Alex collected the water droplets along her arms with her fingers.

"Don't worry about the car," Harry read her manoeuvring, swallowing away the wave of lust that swept through him at the sight of her singlet stuck to her body and the damp sheen of her skin. "Are you okay?"

"Yep, I'm good," she grinned over at him, hair stuck to her temples and neck, looking invigorated by the decimation of Harry's perfectly planned afternoon, not put out by it, "You don't have an old gym towel kicking out back there, do you?" She gestured to the back seat.

Harry's face screwed up, "No, and even if I did, I would not be offering you a used gym towel!"

"Usually, that would reassure me."

"I've got clean ones at home," Harry started slowly, "It's just around the corner …"

Alex vacillated between being terrified Harry liked her just as much as she liked him, and berating herself for the feeling.

A smile was splitting his face as he waited for his response, Alex envied the ease behind his charm, "Let's go."

&&&

Alex instantly loved his house.

It was clean and warm and understated. As Harry led her, he named the room as he went. Alex tried equally to take every inch in and tattoo it to the inside of her skull, trawling it for details and lessons about Harry, while at the same time trying desperately not to appear too nosy or eager.

Her dress was wet and uncomfortably stuck skin to her as they went.

There was an awkward moment when Harry left her in his laundry with a bathrobe and instructions to take off her wet clothes while he ran upstairs to do the same. A few minutes later, (during which Alex agonised over whether to take off her underwear or not) Harry quietly knocked on the door and said Alex's name as he came in with a fresh outfit and an armful of his own for the washing machine.

When they got to the kitchen, he offered to put the kettle on, and Harry's movement prompted her to notice an appliance sitting tucked away in the corner on the bench.

"What's that!"

Harry turned around at the sound of her cry, he'd been trying to breathe through thoughts of Alex wrapped in his robe which was somehow setting off a loud (horny) alarm in him, "What? What's what?"

"That!" Alex went towards him, a look of horror on her face as she stared at the espresso machine he barely used anymore, "Harry! What the hell is this?"

"Oh," he rested his hip against the bench and crossed his arms over his chest, "That?"

Alex bumped his shoulder with the heel of her hand, "You don't need to buy coffee every day, look at this beauty."

Harry felt her thigh pressed against his. He didn't move away from the touch. Instead, he let his palm find the small of her back while she ran her fingertips over the top of the silver machine in front of them, "I think you know why I do, actually, need to buy coffee every day."

Watching her in profile, Harry saw her lips quirked in understanding, although Alex tried to hide it.

When she was quiet for a few beats too long, Harry prompted her, "Alex?"

"It's Paul's clairvoyant services, isn't it?"

"It's really not," Harry laughed, "Although it was impressive he guessed my favourite Friends character based off my coffee order."

Alex rolled her eyes, "It was a lucky guess."

Harry laughed and leaned closer to her, angling himself so they were face to face and he could hear the unsteadiness of her breathing, "I go every day to see you," he tells her simply.

"I know," she pressed her lips together and flexed her fingers out from the fists they'd been squeezed in. "I'm glad you do."

"But you can come over and use this anytime you want," Harry said of his machine. His nose was so close to Alex's it almost itched.

He knew to kiss her then as if he'd lived it before or it was a moment that happened in another life, and something in Harry remembered it. Hearts reached out for each other and fell together in the centre as Harry's lips pressed to Alex's, there was a sigh of souls as if two pieces of time clicked together perfectly.

After not even a minute of having Harry's mouth against hers, Alex felt breathless, his chest pressing into the bulkiness of the bathrobe around her. She laughed at something her body understood, but she didn't yet, leaning away from Harry to take a breath and finding his lips greedy to keep her there.

"Harry, Harry, stop," Alex finally put her hands on him, fingers curving over the top of his shoulders and squeezing lightly.

He was breathless in front of her as well, faces together and lips upturned, "Yes?"

"This is insane, we shouldn't… This … This is insane." She laughed, her head moving back and forth.

Harry's brows furrowed, but the smile stayed across the rest of his face, "What is? Why is it insane?"

Alex wasn't enjoying stopping it, "I'm sorry, I don't—Don't you think starting something is a bad idea?"

His head tilted to one side, "I happen to think it's an excellent idea, actually."

"It's insane," her heart wasn't in the protest though.

"It's not," He argued back gently, sensing Alex stepping through something in her head. Something that Harry probably needed stepping through as well, "This happens."

"It does?"

"Two people meeting by chance and both being crazy for each other from the start? Yes."

"But this year …"

He grinned, swaying and holding her eyes with his, "Just agree and say you're crazy for me, Alex."

Alex half-rolled her eyes as she accepted the kiss coming her way, chaste and sweet, "I mean, the world is ending, Harry—

—If the world is ending," he gave her a look, "Then this is the best time, this is the time to just take your shot. What have you got to lose?"

Alex couldn't force herself into the same blind faith, "Nothing's for certain anymore."

Harry's gaze softened, "Nothing except how you feel, nothing except the person right in front of you, right now."

The person in front of her wasn't someone Alex was looking for at all.

"What's going to happen?" Alex asked, sounding young and unsure. Her fingers reached for Harry's, and she linked herself to him silently.

Harry replied honestly, "I don't know, but I want to find out."

&&&

505 'Oh, when you look at me like that, my darling, what did you expect?'

She woke with Harry's hand resting heavily across her ribs.

It took Alex's brain only a few seconds before her eyes flew open, and she reached aimlessly for her phone, "Shit."

4:12am.

Shit, she thought, brain drunk on sleep as her chest lit up with panic.

Alex wasn't of right mind, and so her attempt to slip out from Harry's bed and skip across the room for her belongings was met by staunch resistance from him. Immediately at her movement, his grip tightened in his sleep, and Harry's body leaned closer to her, his arm extending further around Alex's torso as his face contorted in a frown.

"Harry," she said more urgently, his bedroom dark and still around them, "I have to go."

Those words turned the lights on in his head, and Harry's eyes opened in the darkness, "What?"

It was four weeks since the first time she had been to his house but the night before was the first time Alex stayed over on a weeknight. (Weekends had almost exclusively been spent together) She didn't remember falling asleep. Things got heated after dinner and a movie on Harry's sofa and two orgasms later exhausted, so it seems, they broke the weeknight rule.

Alex wriggled away with the slight loosening of Harry's hold, "I have to go," she repeated.

Harry raised his head up to look for the time, "No, it's 4am, Al, no."

"We fell asleep," Alex covered his wrist with her hand and pulled it up with the duvet and started to kick her legs out. "I have to go home first before work."

"Why?" Harry asked, sitting up and squinting in the darkness to see where she was moving. He didn't understand why Alex never took advantage of the fact he lived closer to her job than she did.

"I don't have work clothes here."

"Alex," his arm lunged towards where the last of her was slipping out of his reach. Harry got a hold of her elbow and gently tugged it towards him, Alex's movement stopped, and he heard a quiet sigh come from her lips, "We'll find you something to wear here."

"Harry," she protested. Wearing a man's clothes only worked in movies, Alex had boobs and hips and wasn't any part of her that wished for the hit to her self esteem trying any of his clothes would provide.

"Alex."

"You won't have anything that will work for me."

Fit, fit was the word she meant.

Harry groaned, still barely able to think straight from being woken from the deepest sleep, "It's four o'clock in the morning, Alex, what were you going to do, get an Uber across London for a t-shirt and jeans? I'll give you a shirt, and you can wear the jeans you wore yesterday."

"I need black jeans for work."

"Paul won't care, and I'll drive you too," Harry thought it pertinent to try sweetening the deal, although he thought it went without saying. His next words came out more firmly, "I'm not letting you leave at 4am, come back go bed."

Alex obeyed, but she felt betrayed by her mind for giving in mostly due to sleepiness. Harry's chest was warm, and with the duvet back around her, she lay awake with the sound of his deep breathing as he slept on. It didn't take long for tears to prickle her eyes and a thick hotness to coat the back of her throat. Here she was in the arms of a man who'd completely taken her life by surprise, yet Alex had an overwhelming yearning for a place on the other side of the world.

Every time she spoke to her sister about the baby or heard from her brother and his fiancé about their wedding, the fire inside her raged with a frustrated and fierce calling for home.

How could she be so desperate to leave while at the same time feel like she had everything to lose in going? She sensed her life had come to be ruled by two separate timers: one counting down to the moment she got on a flight back home, and the other simultaneously counting down her time with Harry. One timer ticking down to something she wanted so much, but it also signified her losing something she had no idea she would get.

Shit, she thought.

&&&

Harry thought it was funny how Alex thought Paul didn't know they were seeing each other.

When he dropped her off at work that morning, she was adamant they go early, and he was not to pull up outside The Daily Dose. Harry had a right mind to call up his mum and apologise for all the times he or his sister asked her to do something similar dropping them off to school.

Alex was wearing the jeans she wore to his house on Saturday—and again on Sunday, evidentially she wasn't bothered wearing them twice in one weekend—and a long-sleeve t-shirt of his from somewhere along the line. It was a teal green Harry had not been keen on in the slightest until he saw Alex in it. She knotted it with a hair tie at her waist to fix it being too long on her. (Harry hadn't said he told her so)

"Do you want to stay over again tonight?" He asked, the engine running as he leant to peer around the street corner towards where the cafe was, "Are you sure I can't just drive you around to the front?

She shook her head at his second question, and then answered his first, "And run into the same clothing problem again?"

Harry smirked and ran his eyes across her chest, thinking of the moments immediately after he saw her wearing his shirt and how he promptly removed it from her, "I don't recall there being any problem."

"Harry!"

"We've broken the weeknight rule now, it's moot," he bargained. Trying not to think about the fact that at any moment, she could get the phone call or email that would mean he'd lose her. Harry wanted nothing more for her than for Alex to have certainty about getting back to her family in Australia, but that didn't mean the selfish half of him wasn't greedy for all the time he could get. "We can go and pick up some stuff from your place, I'll come to pick you up at three."

"You're relentless," she was halfway out, her leg out the car door as she gathered her handbag from the floor.

Harry grinned at her, "Sure am! Now, c'mere," he curled his finger at her, leaning his elbow onto the middle console.

Alex leant forward and kissed him, for all her resistence she couldn't help her next question, "Will you come in later this morning for a coffee?"

"Of course," his palm squeezed her forearm, "Have a good day."

He sat and watched her skip down the street and around the corner through the windscreen, smiling like a fool to himself. The phone number Harry dialled next was automatic, he didn't even think twice about how early it was.

"Good morning, my wonderful, son," his mother answered warmly.

"Morning, mum," Harry checked the traffic behind him and turned out onto the road. "How are you?"

"I'm good, my dear, what a treat to hear from you first thing. What's news from London?"

His whole life, he'd heard people say 'when you know, you know'…

"I've met the woman I'm going to marry, mum."

Well, Harry knew.

&&&

Sixteen 'Time. Suddenly, we got no time'

Two weeks later, on a Tuesday, Harry received the kind of phone call he'd do well to avoid ever getting again.

It had just gone 10pm, which was late for Alex to be awake on a work night.

Harry was spread out on the armchair in his bedroom where he'd been reading for the few hours after dinner. His bed beckoned, but he was trying to get through the final few chapters of his book.

Seeing his girlfriend's name flash up on his phone brought a smile to his face.

"Hey you," he answered, sure that she'd be on the other end of the call, bored or frustrated at not being able to sleep. It immediately became clear though, from the first sound Harry heard from her down the line, that something was very wrong. He listened to a shaky intake of breath and something like a whimper from her, "Alex? What's wrong?"

She pressed her hand into her chest to steady herself, "Can I come over?"

Harry was on his feet, "Yes, yes, of course. I can come to get you, where are you?"

"I'm already in an Uber," she said quietly.

"Are you alright? What's happened," Harry urged again, racing down the stairs from the top storey of his house, turning on all the lights as he went, "Alex?"

It was silly how upset she was, Alex couldn't stop the devastation she felt though, "Jess has gone into labour."

Harry stilled, his heartbreaking for her, "Oh, Alex, babe, I'm sorry."

"Yeah," she breathed out, shakily, "I just don't want to be alone right now."

"Is everything okay, I mean, this is early, right?"

"Jess is fine," Alex relayed, "It's just early."

Fifteen minutes later, Harry got a text saying her Uber was about to turn onto his street. He left the front door wide open and went down to meet her on the curb. He watched the headlights of a dark sedan slowly creep towards him, feeling a heavy dread inside him.

She's not supposed to be here for this, he thought to himself. It wasn't fair.

He thought of the conversations they'd already had about what would happen when Alex got notice of her flight back home. It was all Harry wanted for her, despite the fact it would mean living with his heart outside his body. Despite the fact it would put everything up in the air for him. He was determined to have her in his life, just as he was determined to do nothing but blindly encourage and support her return home.

Alex emerged from the back passenger door, saying a sincere thank you to the driver.

"Hey," Harry greeted her, pleased to see an overnight bag hanging off her shoulder.

"Hi," she stepped up to him and straight into his open arms, squeezing herself as tightly as she could against his chest.

&&&

His leg was numb, but Harry wasn't in any hurry to move.

He and Alex were wedged into the corner of his sofa, her lying between his legs with her torso across his, one of his legs propped up on the back cushion while the other wrapped around her hip on the other side.

It had been a little over an hour since she arrived, and Alex was waiting for a phone call confirming the birth of her sister's baby. The two of them had been quietly chatting back and forth while a quiet album played in the background, Alex teary and struggling while Harry did everything he could do soothe her through the waiting. But there was no feeling better, there was no magical way to fix it for her. Alex was as far away as humanly possible from her family at precisely the time she wanted to be with them. Instead of meeting her niece or nephew in person, Alex would be hearing about them from a phone call.

Harry felt the vibration coming from Alex's phone at the same moment she did. She sniffed against his chest and flipped it over where the screen was lit up with an incoming FaceTime. Harry's hands fell away from where they'd been crossed over her back, he watched Alex sit up between his legs and run her sleeve under her eyes.

"It's my brother-in-law," she told him, surprising Harry when she swiped to accept the video call.

The week before, when Harry told his mum about Alex, it was the first time his family had heard of her. And in the time since, Alex admitted her siblings already knew about him. Still, Harry wasn't sure how much they knew of him, and he didn't feel the need or want to insert himself into such an important family moment. Still, Alex wasn't moving away from him or making it seem at like she wanted to be alone for the call. Harry stayed where he was, looking up at Alex and observing her interaction silently from his spot.

"Alex!" The booming voice of her sister's husband filled Harry's warm, London living room.

She held the phone out in front of her face, face splitting into a colossal smile Harry wished he could bottle, "Matt, how is she? What's going on?"

"Jess is great," Matt told her, the white hospital wall behind him giving nothing away, "She did amazing. And we've got a little boy, Alex. He's perfect, you … You can't imagine how perfect."

Tears leaked out of her eyes instantly, "A boy!"

"A little man," he confirmed joyfully, blind with the love of a new parent.

Harry squeezed Alex's hip, feeling emotional himself. Wishing like anything Alex wasn't doing this over a phone screen. She mopped up her tears with the sleeve of her jumper.

"Show me him, where is he?" Alex was desperate to see her nephew, "Where's Jess?"

"She sent me out here to call you, we don't have great reception in the room," Matt explained. "As soon as she's up and moving, she'll call you herself."

"Oh, okay," Alex tried not to sound too disappointed.

Matt knew her well enough to sense it though, "It's alright, Alex. She's desperate to speak to you, Jess wants to be the one to introduce you to him. He's not looking his best at the moment now, anyway," Matt laughed, "They're kinda misshapen when they come out."

"I'm so happy," Alex said happily. "How are you?"

"Me!" Matt laughed, "I'm great. Your sister is a bloody legend. We miss you though."

"I miss you guys, too, more than ever."

Harry looked away from her face, focusing on the black TV screen across the room.

"You'll be back soon though," Matt was upbeat.

"I can't believe you're a dad!" Alex cried out happily, "I'm going to have to start writing down all the corrupt and illegal things I've witnessed you do, so I can turn your kid against you when they're older."

Matt laughed, "Ah, you fucker. I hope they never let you back in then."

&&&

"I'm such a wanker," Harry said into the blackness of his bedroom, sometime after 1am that evening.

Alex was lying beside him, stretched out across his bed with her legs kicked out on top of the bedding. They had the window open, letting in the warm summer air. It was making Alex feel like she could be at home, in a humid Sydney night.

"Why are you a wanker, Harry?"

"All this time, I've been silently glad you missed your flight back in May… Because it meant I got to mee yout. But after tonight, I—I'm such a dick for being happy about that. You should be with your family right now."

Harry wondered how Alex's usual optimism would measure up to his confession. He'd not seen such emotion from her tonight, her ability to snap her way out of negativity up until that point had been nobel. But she was devastated when he answered his phone earlier in the night, and part of Harry was surprised she wanted to be with him at all at the moment. Surely nothing in London could feel good when she longed so desperately for somewhere else.

"You're not a wanker, Harry."

"Well, I feel like one."

"Were you supposed to be in London right now?"

"Sorry?" He asked.

"If this year had gone how you planned," Alex explained, "Would you have been in London right now? Or in May?"

He thought for a moment, "No, I would have been on tour somewhere. Wasn't going to be in London much this year."

Harry had stopped measuring life by where he was meant to be a few months before, it was driving him mad.

Alex rolled over on her side and pulled Harry's arm against her chest, "Do you want me to say I'm glad your tour got cancelled so we had the chance to meet, to make you feel better?"

"Yes, actually," Harry smiled.

"So glad you've basically lost a year of work, don't know what I would have done without my new piece of London arse."

The next sound was her squeal of surprise when Harry launched himself on top of her, burrying his scratchy cheeks into the hollow of her neck and digging his fingers into her soft sides.

&&&

The next day, Alex got the email.

Notification of Repatriation Flight - London (Heathrow) to Sydney

&&&

Silent Readers: Click here Act 4, And love blooms in hearts not fields - coming soon!

+++

Tag list: @afterhoursharry @beautifuleclipses @bumbershots @coffee-doodle-doo @decadentdonkeyflowerzonk @elemayox @ficsthatmakemeswoon @finelinesupremacy @greatestview @hatnightin2008 @ifiwereaboy2323 @ihearthemcallingforyou @just-damn-bored @kakaym @kara-246 @lifeandsomethingelse @luminescencefics @micurq27 @miorni @monpetitchouchou16 @morethanamelodyy @piawhat @rubytersteege @staceystoleyourheart @stepping-into-the-light @steppingonoranges @stylesfics-xx @stylishmuser @toalltheboyswhowastedmytime @tpwkhoney @ursamajor603 @veryplatoniccircunstances @wanderlustiing @whatevarandomlygoes Sign up for the tag list here

#fic: terrible to meet you #1dff #Harry fic #harry stories #harry styles fanfic

144 notes · View notes

arvandus · 4 years

Text

Touch (Pt 6)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please! Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi terrified you. Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it that way. That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Special thank you to @salvator-heartbreaker who has helped me hash out this chapter and some future plot details; this would not be as amazing as it is without her help!

Chapter warning: Buckle up, y’all. This chapter is LONG. Like, 12k words long (separating it into multiple chapters was NOT an option). Prepare yourself for a roller coaster of feels. Also, please PLEASE be aware of the warning tags.

Recommended Chapter Songs: Overdose by grandson/The Drug In Me Is Reimagined by Falling in Reverse

Part 1 Part 5

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 6 - The Long Night

After Dabi left, you cleaned up the various items around the room. You placed the pills back into your bag from where they were in your pocket. A moment later, you decided against that location and put the bottle under your pillow within your pillowcase. You changed your mind again, taking the pill bottle into the bathroom to stuff it with cotton. It would keep the pills from rattling. You returned the bottle to its hiding place under your pillow. If Dabi came back looking for more, you wanted to have them within reach and not where he’d immediately look for them. You placed the damp washcloth in your hamper and drank some water before lying in bed with your phone in your hand.

You were only on your phone for a few minutes before you felt sleep start to drag at your eyelids, so you turned off your light and put your phone on your nightstand. Sleep was elusive, however. You stared at the ceiling pensively. Something nagged at your mind, but in your groggy, tired state, you couldn’t figure out what it was. You felt each minute tick by with painstaking slowness, frequently checking the time on your phone while your thoughts ran a mile a minute. It mulled over what had transpired, what was said and done, and how you felt… It was like flipping through an entire novel in a matter of seconds and then trying to describe a specific, obscure scene hidden within its pages.

By your fifth minute, you gave up and sat up in your bed. Your hands went under your pillow, feeling the familiar bottle in your fingers.

Realization hit. You quickly turned on your lamp. You pulled the bottle out of your pillowcase and spilled the contents out onto your comforter. You counted the amount and your breath stopped.

No.

You counted again.

FUCK.

You always made it a point to know exactly how many pills you had of anything you carried, but especially so for these pills.

You quickly put the remaining medication back into the bottle, counting them as they fell in with a tap. Then, you got up out of your bed and hid the pills inside an unused pair of shoes which you then put into a black duffle bag in the top of your closet. You only hoped Dabi didn’t come looking for them. At this rate, if he was willing to steal from you, then he’d be willing to rifle through your things.

Betrayal, cold and hard, soaked into your bones. You tried to reason with yourself, to talk yourself through what you knew about addiction, what you had learned in med school. But taking what was learned in a textbook, with no emotional attachment, and applying it into this situation did little to assuage the feelings roiling within you. This wasn’t hypothetical. This was real.

Even worse than the betrayal was the cold hard fact: Dabi could kill himself. And all because you left him alone for less than a minute. Did he already take them? How long ago did he leave your room? Your brain didn’t have time to do the math as you dashed across the hallway to his door.

You didn’t bother to knock – not this time. Thankfully, Dabi must have been so out of it that he forgot to lock it. You barreled in like a fiery chariot knocking down Hell’s gate, slamming the door behind you loudly enough to wake the dead. You didn’t care. In that moment, nothing else mattered but getting those pills back.

Dabi sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. He looked up at you groggily when the door slammed. His movements were noticeably slower, his pallor a sickly grey and shining with sweat.

“You took my pills.” You seethed. “Give them back.”

“What?” Dabi slurred.

“My pills, Dabi! Three of them are missing! Give them to me!”

He looked down at his hands as if confused by what they were. “I don’t have them.” He replied.

“Bull-fucking-shit!” you shot back. “I swear to God, Dabi, I will search this room until I find them.”

He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. “I already took them. And stop fucking shouting.”

“You what???” You gasped. “What the fuck, Dabi?? Why would you do that??”

He stood up now, angry at your presence, at your justified rage that he knew he was responsible for but didn’t want to face. He was barely keeping himself together as it was. His insides felt like a writhing, fiery snake. His head felt filled with cotton. And underneath it all, the pain hummed low like a purring beast. He couldn’t decide if the pills he took were actually working or not. The relief he thought they’d give him evaded him like a shadow.

“I told you I needed more.” Dabi replied.

“Dabi, you can O.D. on this!” you shot back.

“I’m not gonna O.D.” Dabi scoffed as he swayed on his feet. He fought the sickness rolling over him in waves, great crests threatening to drown him like a raging sea. He didn’t need this right now. Not with you here. Fuck. When did he get so fucking weak?

Your body instantly became poised to catch him if he fell. He needed to throw up what he took. That was the only option. Your mind frantically tried to assess if he was weak enough for you to overpower him, to try to put your fingers down his throat to trigger his gag reflex.

“Your drugs are weak as shit compared to what I was taking before. I can handle it.” He continued. “I know what I’m doing.” His eyes were unfocused as they tried to stare down at you.

Suddenly, the wave crested, higher than he could tread. Immediately his mouth began to water in sickly preparation, his gag reflex kicking in while his gut clenched. He stumbled to the bathroom, shoving you aside in the process, just in time to empty the contents of his stomach. It was clear, made of only the water he drank and the partially dissolved pills that he had stolen.

A wave of relief washed over you while Dabi emptied what remained of the drugs into the toilet. A part of you was still angry, wanting to give him an ‘I told you so,’ but you held back, instead keeping an eye on him from the bathroom doorway to make sure he was okay.

Once he was done, he leaned back against the bathroom wall, a pained grimace on his face, the metal rings pulling along his cheeks. His breaths were ragged and heavy. “Fuck.” He muttered. He should have eaten the stupid crackers. What a fucking waste.

Once you were sure he was okay for the moment, you paced back into the bedroom to try to calm your nerves. He threw up what he took. That was good. Of course, that also meant there was no telling how long your meds would stay in his system now, and once they started to wear off, he’d continue to suffer through withdrawal since you couldn’t give him more right away. This was just the beginning for him.

A knock on the door resounded into the room, interrupting your thoughts.

“Don’t answer it.” Dabi rasped from his spot next to the toilet.

You stared at him for a moment and waited while discomfort settled over you like an itchy blanket. You understood his need for privacy, but you also needed help… at least to have someone bring some water and food. It was going to be a long night and at this rate, Dabi was going to become severely dehydrated

Another knock came through, more persistent this time.

“Dabi,” called Toga’s voice. “Are you okay in there???”

Twice’s muffled voice followed. “He probably wants to be left alone. Fuck this guy.”

“I’m not gonna just leave him, Twice. You heard him in there.” Toga replied in annoyance.

Dabi groaned in frustration, his head in his shaking hands in denial. Why did it have to be Toga of all people? She was annoyingly persistent, poking her nose where it didn’t belong and not taking hints when her prying wasn’t welcome. The last thing he wanted was her and Twice standing outside his door while he hurled into the stinking toilet. They’d probably barge in without permission. You seeing him like this was bad enough – but at least he could excuse your involvement as the team’s medic, even if the vulnerability ate away at him. But letting them see him like this? He’d rather light everything on fire.

“Make them go away.” He whispered hoarsely.

You leapt at the opportunity, rushing to the door. You opened it to see Twice in his usual gear and Toga in a pink pajama set, her hair pulled back into twin buns. Her hand was outstretched as if ready to grasp an invisible doorknob.

“Hey guys.” You said through a fake bubbly smile. “It’s okay, I’m in here with him.”

“What the hell is going on??” Twice demanded.

“We heard a door slam, and yelling, and I’m pretty sure I heard someone throwing up.” Toga said crossing her arms.

They heard yelling – did they hear what you had shouted at Dabi? About him taking your drugs? You mentally scolded yourself for being so loud earlier. There had to be some way you could play it off.

You felt your skin get hot with embarrassment. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m helping him out.”

“What’s wrong?” Toga asked nosily. “Is Dabi hungover? He sounds like he’s hungover.”

“Stomach flu.” You improvised. You hoped they believed it. If they did, it’d give Dabi a reason to be left alone by the other league members for a few days while you helped him out.

Neither of them showed any doubt with your explanation. Toga made a disgusted face while Twice sighed. “Well, that’s a fucking relief. But keep the damn noise down!”

You smirked at his dual reactions. “Sorry, Twice.”

“Do you need anything?” Toga asked. “Water? Food?”

“Drugs?” Twice chimed in.

You froze like a deer in headlights for a moment before you realized he probably meant the kind that wasn’t illegal.

“Water and food would be appreciated. Something easy on the stomach, like crackers. And bananas if we have any left. I already have the other supplies I need.” You commented. Then, you remembered - Shit. Your supply bag was still in your room….

“Sure thing, big sis!” Toga replied through a cheery smile, her fangs prominent. “Come on, Twice. You can help me carry stuff.” Twice followed after her and you closed the door with a breath of relief before the sound of Dabi retching again made you go check on him.

His fingers grasped the toilet seat while his body shook, his knuckles as white as the porcelain they held onto. Spit dangled from his parted lips, his nose running, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought his body’s reactions to his poor choices.

After a minute, he leaned back and carelessly wiped his face with his bare arm, the fluids glistening on his skin in the light of the bathroom.

His face was pulled into a grimace, eyes squeezed shut against the brightness, his body slumped against the wall. “You should have taken Twice up on his offer.” He said with a forced grin through wet lips.

“Not funny, Dabi.” You scolded. “Drugs are the last thing you need. Besides, you know that’s not what he meant.”

“Well I certainly don’t think water and some fucking bananas are going to fix this.” He replied sourly.

“Better than your solution of taking six of my pills.” You shot back. “A lot of good that did you, huh?”

He opened his eyes to give you a cold glare, his mouth opening to protest. But his words were cut short by another round of vomiting, nothing coming up but thin strings of yellow bile from his empty stomach while his gut spasmed and clenched. You furrowed your brow. His nausea was getting worse, his vomiting more frequent. You wanted to use your quirk to alleviate his pain, but you couldn’t. Not for this. If his body couldn’t register the pain signals his gut was sending to his brain, then there was a chance the vomiting would stop. Throwing up was what he needed to make sure the stolen pills were out of his system.

Even aside from the vomiting, there was the issue of using your quirk too much, too soon. You could no longer fall back on your pills to manage your own pain if you pushed yourself too far. Your lower back itched uncomfortably, as if the very thought woke up the scarred nerves there, old memories threatening to follow in their wake. You pushed them aside forcefully by focusing on the man in front of you.

If you over-exerted yourself too soon, you wouldn’t be able to help him later when things got worse. Once these pills wore off, which you weren’t sure when that would happen, you wouldn’t be able to give him new ones right away. You were already short three pills after his little stint, and even if you did give him pills, his body might still reject them if it wasn’t ready for them. That would only make things exponentially worse. It was better to skip a dosage now and get back on track with the remaining medication you had. You’d pair what you’d allotted for him with your own quirk as an added relief; you only hoped the combination would be adequate until his pills became available for pickup.

Once he was done dry heaving, you handed him a hand towel from the hanging bar next to you. You had no idea if it was clean – he probably used it to dry his hands after washing them - but it didn’t really matter. It was better than using his arm again. He took it in silence, his eyes avoiding yours in what you could only describe as shame. Your heart clenched. You knew he didn’t mean for this to happen. No one ever does. You wanted to reassure him, to let him know it was all going to be okay, but words escaped you. How could you even begin to tell him something like that while he’s retching into a toilet in the wee hours of the night?

Before you could think of something to say, there was a familiar knock on the door. You forced yourself to step away and answer it. Sure enough, Toga and Twice were there, their arms full of offerings.

“Here you go.” Toga said, her arms filled with six water bottles. Twice also presented an array of items in his arms – a box of saltine crackers, some canned soup with a pull-top lid, and a couple of bananas.

“Thanks.” You replied, taking the items and placing them on Dabi’s desk. You were grateful neither of them tried to enter while you unloaded their arms; perhaps they really did believe Dabi had the flu and were too scared of catching it.

“You can go back to bed if you want. We’ll be fine.” you suggested.

“Let us know if you need anything else!” Toga offered with a toothy grin. You smiled your gratitude and closed the door as they turned to leave.

Once you heard their footsteps fade down the hall followed by the closing of bedroom doors, you returned to the bathroom with a water bottle in hand. You knew food wasn’t going to be an option for a while, but at least this might help. Even if he threw it back up, it was better than bile. But before you could even hand the bottle to him, he convulsed, hugging the toilet again, gagging and coughing. You knelt next to him patiently, ready to offer the water in your hand or the towel now forgotten on floor… whatever he needed.

He spit the drool dangling from his mouth and continued to hover over the toilet bowl with a groan. Everything hurt. His abs, his throat, his sinuses… his head was still muddled from a variety of factors – dehydration, lack of sleep, the drugs. He hated himself, reduced to a useless fucking puddle like the loser he was, and all while you were here watching him. You, who even though he let you down - even though he stole from you - continued to stay and care for him. He didn’t want that for you, and he didn’t want the guilt of your presence continuously reminding him of how he failed you while his body fell apart on him.

“Get out of here.” He said gruffly. “You don’t need to be here for this.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You replied. You knew he was pushing you away and you understood why, but that didn’t matter to you. Sure, you were mad at what he had done, but you also understood he couldn’t help it. His obvious shame was apology enough for now, and his well-being was more important to you than his pride.

“Leave.” He growled.

“I can’t.” You could feel tears start to sting at the corners of your eyes. You didn’t want to leave him. Not like this.

More dry retching overtook him, and guilt began to creep on you like a thorny vine, choking your words from your throat. He couldn’t fight you on this even if he wanted to; was it really fair to stay when he asked you to go? He made his decision clear – he wanted to be alone. Where were you supposed to draw the line between forcing your care on him for his safety versus respecting his need for privacy?

You stared at him as you warred within yourself. He obviously wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, and on the upside, he did throw up some of those pills. But what about later, when the pills wear off and the hunger returns? Could you trust that he would come to you, looking for what he knew you had? Or would he go elsewhere, and risk his safety on something potentially worse? You wanted to respect his wishes, but your body wouldn’t move.

Dabi’s world was spinning; round and round he went, as if the toilet had been flushed and he and his rejected pills were being washed away like the trash that he knew he was. He was breathing heavily now, painful groans falling from his lips. “Get the fuck out, Y/N.”

The sound of your name on his lips for the first time smacked you, your breath catching painfully behind the lump in your throat. You struggled to suppress the tears threatening to unleash themselves down your face. He said your name. He had never said it before. You had imagined that the first time he’d say your name would be a sign of trust and intimacy. This wasn’t that at all. Instead, it was a weapon, a foul word that stung you like a whip.

He didn’t want you here. Maybe your presence really was just making it worse for him. He’d focus more on not wanting you around and fighting your hep than he would actually trying to fight his withdrawal. You had to leave and hope that he would be able to come out of this on his own.

Without a word, you loosened the cap on the water bottle and set it on the floor next to him as a final offering before getting up off the cold tile to leave. You left the bathroom, while the sounds of his continued retching filled your ears. Each cough and gag from his battered throat deepened your guilt, reminding you how your irresponsibility had contributed to him getting into this mess. Yes, he stole from you. It still angered you. But at the same time, you were the one who had all your mental faculties and still left drugs within his reach when he came to you for help.

You placed two water bottles and the crackers on the nightstand for him. Then, you took the half-full trash bag out of his trash can and made sure it was near his bed, just in case he needed to throw up again later.

With one more glance at him through the bathroom doorway while he sat doubled over the toilet, you made your way to the door.

Please be safe, please be safe… you silently pleaded.

Just as you put your hand on the doorknob, you heard a thud.

“Dabi? Are you okay?” you called.

Only silence greeted you. A cold panic set in and you rushed into the bathroom to find Dabi unconscious on the floor, face down in a puddle of water. The water bottle you had left had tipped over, the cold liquid spreading across the bathroom tile and soaking into Dabi’s clothes. You pushed your panic aside as you immediately switched into emergency mode. You knelt by his side and rolled him over onto his back, cupping his face in your hand. His skin felt hot to the touch.

“Dabi??” You called. No response. You checked for a pulse and felt it fluttering beneath your fingers. “DABI??” you shouted as you lightly smacked his cheek. He didn’t respond. His color was lifelessly pale, but his chest rose and fell in slow breaths. He was breathing. You checked his pupils – dilated. He definitely still had your drugs in his system. How much, you weren’t sure. Once again, you were grateful that he had managed to throw up what he could.

His skin was burning. Was it already hotter than a moment ago? Was it a fever from the withdrawal? Or was it his quirk acting up, going haywire without him being able to consciously be in control of himself? The idea of his cremation randomly unleashing itself in the small bathroom made your throat dry up with dread.

You had to cool him down somehow. Dabi’s bathroom had a walk-in shower just a foot away, and you gave a silent thankful prayer to the universe. A bathtub would have made this entire fiasco exponentially more difficult.

First, you had to remove his clothes. They were trapping in his body heat at the moment, compounding his fever.

It wasn’t easy. Dabi was lean, but he certainly didn’t lack muscle, and what he lacked for in bulk, he made up for in height. It was awkward in the small space as you pulled his sweatpants off of him, exposing scarred legs with metal staples curving along his thighs. You left his boxers on. You couldn’t bring yourself to take them off of him while he was unconscious. His head lolled to the side while his eyes, now half-lidded, stared with an empty, unconscious gaze. His shirt was next, wet with sweat, water, and specks of bile. The fresh bandage that you had recently applied fell off as soon as the cotton fabric wasn’t there to hold it in place. The wound was healing, but it was still pink and raw. The slightest amount of pressure would reopen the sensitive tissue, undoing your hard work.

You needed your med kit.

Once he was undressed, you rolled him to his side. You didn’t want him to aspirate if he ended up vomiting again. Then, you ran the shower to let the water warm slightly. It needed to be lukewarm – cool enough to bring down his fever, but not so cold that it would shock his system and make him shiver. Shivering helped to increase body temperature, and that was the last thing he needed.

Once the water was running, you took one last look at the man laying unconscious on his side before making a mad dash out of his room and into yours to grab your medical bag by your bed. There was no time to double check the supplies in it; you only hoped you had what you needed. You grabbed a couple of clean towels from your own bathroom before running back into his room, thankfully unnoticed in the empty hall. It took less than a minute.

You bandaged his wound back up quickly, while he was on his side. It wasn’t the neatest work, but it would do for now. Already, his body temperature was noticeably higher than when you had left him. There was no time to check it with your thermometer - it was a race against the clock, now.

You rolled Dabi back onto his back to try and rouse him once again, picking him up slightly so he lay in your lap, while you called his name and cupped his cheek. His eyes fluttered open slightly, his head shifting at the sound of your voice, before his eyes closed again. You cursed under your breath and laid him back down the way you had him before while you checked the water temperature. It was warm enough, or so you hoped, since his own temperature kept rising. You turned off the water briefly to retrieve the unconscious man.

Finally, you were ready. You tried to grab Dabi from under his armpits, but his skin was almost too hot to touch for an extended period of time. Definitely quirk related. You grabbed a spare towel and tried again, this time protecting your hands and arms against his scalding skin. You wrapped your hands around his chest, your arms under his armpits, and began to drag him to the shower stall. You tried your best to be mindful of his scars and staples, hoping that dragging him across the floor wouldn’t tear anything. For a shower that was so close in proximity, it took a painstakingly long time to get him into it and properly positioned before you could step out and turn the shower back on.

Lukewarm water sputtered out of the showerhead, drenching his body from the chest down. The water steamed upon contact, reacting to the heat rolling off of him like asphalt on a hot summer’s day. Dabi stirred slightly, roused to consciousness by the sensation and the change in temperature. He looked around groggily until his blue eyes settled on you. You waited for him to say something, but no words came as his dazed eyes seemed to lose focus. The only sign that he was still somewhat conscious was the occasional slow blink while he watched you take a wet washcloth and squeeze it over his head to let the cool water soak his hair and dribble down his face and neck. The water trickled down his forehead to his brow, and you tenderly wiped it away with the washcloth to keep it from getting into his eyes. You followed the contours of his face with the cool cloth, along his jawline, across his cheeks.

Dabi closed his eyes for minutes at a time, only opening them briefly as you adjusted the water temperature slightly and again as your ran your fingers through his wet hair, moving the dripping strands from his forehead so you could see his face better. Color slowly began to creep back into his skin, the water no longer steamed. What you were doing was working, and you were grateful – so grateful – that you hadn’t left him yet. The rush of time slowed down. Dabi’s eyes closed again as you quietly hummed to yourself as you cared for him. It helped to calm your nerves and pass the time.

After what felt like ages, you finally checked his temperature, this time with the temporal thermometer you had in your bag. The number that beeped back at you satisfied you enough to turn the water off. You gave Dabi’s shoulder a small shake, and his eyes opened to look at you under heavy lids.

“Come on.” You whispered. “I need you to stand up.”

He licked his chapped lips as he braced himself into a standing position with your help and made the two feet distance to sit on his toilet, his wet boxers dribbling puddles of water onto the floor. You covered him in two towels, one for his head and one for his shoulders, before you stepped out of the bathroom for a moment to get him fresh clothes.

You realized quickly that he’d need to change out of his wet boxers – something you hadn’t considered earlier when you undressed him. You gulped briefly. Could he even do that on his own right now? He still was out of it and needed assistance just to stand.

There was no way around it. You’d have to help him.

You grabbed a pair of fresh boxers, black jersey shorts, and a white tee before returning to the bathroom. He was in the position you left him, the only difference being that he was now leaning against the wall while he sat on the toilet. His eyes were closed at first but they opened slightly when you nudged him gently. He still looked completely out of it.

Even so, you talked to him. “Dabi,” you whispered. “I have to change your boxers so I can put dry clothes on you. I’m going to help you stand up.”

He gave a slow blink but made no attempt to move or speak. As you wrapped your arms around his chest to help him up, he didn’t fight you, leaning his weight into you just enough to rise slightly from his sitting position. You weren’t sure how conscious he really was for this. Was he aware of what was going on, of what you were doing? Or was his body going through the motions, barely registering his environment? You hoped it was the latter.

“I won’t look.” You promised. You looped your fingers into the wet waistband and pulled it down, before letting him sit back down on the toilet. With your eyes respectfully averted, you pulled the wet material off the rest of the way down his legs and off his feet. You quickly dried his legs off before grabbing the clean boxers you had set up on top of his sink, the only dry spot left in the bathroom. Through the use of touch, you were able to put his feet into them and pull them up just above his bent knees. His shorts followed until both items were pulled up as high as they would go in his sitting position.

“One more time.” You said. With him braced against you, you grabbed both waistbands and pulled his clothes on. A moment later, he was sitting back down, properly covered. You proceeded with your administrations now that the hard part was done. You dried his hair with the towel still on his head, and then dried his torso and arms using the towel on his shoulders. By the time you were helping him with his tee shirt, he was starting to show some cognizance, pushing his arms out through the holes himself once you got them into position.

Quickly you flushed the toilet he was sitting on, washing away the contents from earlier, and gathered the soiled clothes and towels from the floor before taking them to the laundry hamper in his room. It was still dark outside, and you wondered what time it was. 3:30am? 4? You had no way of knowing; you had left your phone in your room. With the situation no longer critical, your adrenaline finally started to drop. Exhaustion pulled at you, a heavy blanket threatening to smother you until you surrendered. You were so tired, that even Dabi’s bed looked inviting at this point.

You forced yourself to keep going.

You grabbed one of the water bottles from his nightstand, hoping that you could finally get him to drink something now that the vomiting was over and he was starting to gain awareness again.

When you came back to the bathroom, Dabi looked up at you as you entered, his eyes truly seeing you for the first time.

“You’re still here.” He slurred, his voice raspy.

“You noticed, huh?” you gave a small smirk, an attempt to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

He was quiet for a moment and looked down, confusion on his face. “I told you to leave.”

“Yeah, well I was going to, but then you passed out on the bathroom floor.” You replied. “I couldn’t just leave you there.”

He didn’t respond. The fight in him was gone for the moment. He was placid now, almost childlike. You opened the water bottle and handed it to him, but he turned his head away.

“Please, Dabi…” you begged.

He looked back at the item in your hand and stared at it for a moment before finally taking it and taking a small sip. He grimaced painfully.

Of course; after all that vomiting he did earlier, his throat probably hurt like hell.

You pointed at his neck. “May I?” You hoped he understood.

He seemed to. He lowered the water bottle from his lips to allow you access to his throat, and gently you placed your hand over it, feeling the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed against your cool touch. Your quirk seeped into him like honey into a cake, coating his throat and washing the burning pain away.

He swallowed again, this time without flinching. His eyes stared at you, still hazy, but with the hint of something lively in them –a flicker of kindling. He took your hand from his neck and moved it down to his abdomen.

“Here.” He spoke.

You understood, but you hesitated. Would you be able to keep your quirk focused on just the nerves of his muscles? Or would it go deeper than that, impacting the nerves in his gut? That could have its own effects – he won’t feel the burning in his gut, but he also won’t feel hunger for a while, and may not feel that urge to vomit again even if his body needed to later.

“Just a little bit.” You replied.

You felt your quirk trickle into him, like water through cracks in concrete. Once your quirk felt the resistance of the deeper layers of muscle and tissue, you pulled your hand away. If you pushed any further, it’d be too much. He might feel some pain still, but it should be mitigated at least.

“Drink more now. Please.” You ordered.

He obliged, drinking the water in large, thirsty gulps for the first time that evening. Once he was done, he wiped his mouth and handed the empty water bottle to you. You set it on his sink next to the faucet, in case it needed to be refilled later on.

“Come on,” you said. You kneeled down and put his arm around your shoulder, helping him stand. “Let’s get you into bed.”

He didn’t respond; instead, he let you lead him out of the bathroom to the edge of his bed where he fell into it. You debated on whether or not you could leave him there and finally retreat to your room for much-needed rest, but you decided against it. The meds that were flowing in his system were going to start wearing off soon. He will be hungering for more, and you won’t be able to give it to him this time. If you left him alone here, he’d either somehow end up back in your room hunting for that hidden bottle, or he’d go out on the street to try to score whatever he could, no matter the consequences.

There was no choice. You had to stay. And when his pain became too much, you’d help out as best you could. Maybe you could mitigate the symptoms enough to last him until tomorrow evening. By then, you could start him back up on your pills.

You hoped you could handle it. You’d already used your quirk three times tonight - twice just now, and once earlier when you treated his burn in your room. Already, the environment seemed a little harsher to you. Light was brighter, noises louder… It wasn’t too terrible just yet, but all of your senses were heightened more than they were before. The damaged nerves on your back, always hidden by your shirt, itched irritably. It was still bearable – for now.

A sense of trepidation filled you. You’d gone so long without over-exerting your quirk… it had taken only one time to experience it, and you vowed to never let it happen again. Then again, you never expected to be single-handedly dealing with drug addiction and withdrawal for a man who takes enough opioids to take down an elephant.

You peaked at him in his bed where he lay curled up on his side. His eyes were closed for the moment, but you weren’t sure if he was asleep or not. Without disturbing him, you managed to steal a spare pillow from his bed. Then, with a heavy, resigned sigh, you laid down in front of his door, his pillow your only comfort. If he tried to leave, he’d have to go through you. The window was unguarded, but you weren’t too worried – you were three stories up. The building was an old hotel, so all fire escapes were located at the end of the hall, and he was in no condition to try to climb down the rusty drainpipes.

Despite the hardness of the floor and the coldness of the air, sleep claimed you within seconds, the scent of Dabi enveloping you.

As you slept, Dabi stirred restlessly in his bedsheets, his mind drifting between a vague wakefulness and dreams.

There was humming. Someone was singing. It soothed him.

He blinked.

You were talking to him, but he couldn’t make out the words. Something cool and wet passed across his forehead. Was this real?

He blinked.

Your face peered up at him, filled with a loving concern as your hand cupped his cheek, your thumb stroking across his stitches softly. Was THIS real?

He blinked.

He stared at himself, his scars gone, his hair a deep red. His blue eyes echoed his other self like an infinite row of mirrors.

He blinked.

He tried to speak, but pills kept falling from his mouth, choking his words. He couldn’t breathe. His other self stood before him, hands cupped and outstretched as the pills filled them and overflowed, scattering over the floor like a child’s marbles.

He blinked.

All he could see was a blue sky, but there were sounds. The sound of children’s laughter, the sound of a ball being kicked. The was a faint smell of dirt in the air. He was happy.

He blinked.

A woman sat near a window, bathed in sunlight with a white bundle cradled in her arms. Something about her was oddly familiar, yet he couldn’t place her. She sang. “My little Shouto. My sweet, little Shouto…” A baby cooed. Her face turned to him, but her features were hazy, hard to see through the dust that danced in the sunbeams. She reached out a long, slender hand. “Come here, Touya. Meet your little brother.”

He blinked.

He saw the woman again, standing at the end of a lake dock in a white dress, her hair billowing like a white flag of surrender. The lake was smooth as glass, a white mist ghosting over its glossy waters. He knew her.

Mother.

He tried to call to her, but his words were silent, falling from voiceless lips like birds with broken wings. She put one foot out over the water and fell silently, disappearing beneath the murky depths without a splash. A cold dread filled him. Frantically, he ran towards the water, but before he could dive in, the water on the lake erupted into orange, writhing flames. The wood beneath his feet crackled and charred, flames licking at his legs, his arms, his face. The dock broke and suddenly he was drowning, boiling water filling his lungs. Unseen hands grasped at his limbs, pulling him down, down, into the darkness, his flesh turning to ash beneath their touch.

Dabi woke with a shout, his eyes wide and filled with a wild fear. He felt restrained, his legs unable to move.

“Hold him down.” Said a familiar, gruff voice. The smell of cigarette smoke choked him. “I told you this would hurt, kid.”

Suddenly, your face came into view, hovering over him with your hands on his shoulders, shaking him. “Dabi. Dabi!” you called. You stared down at him with worry, dark circles under your bloodshot, tired eyes.

You were here.

The waking nightmare lifted and suddenly he was gasping for air like a deep-sea diver, heavy breaths filling his lungs as he broke through the surface into consciousness. “Y/N?” he said, his voice sounding strangely strangled to his ears. His eyes looked around frantically, taking in his room. A dark twilight was starting to emerge from the clouded, early morning sky outside, dark blue-grey contrasting with the yellow light seeping from the edges of his closed his bathroom door. The colors framed your face as you spoke to him

“Hey, it’s okay.” You said soothingly. “It was just a dream.”

His bedsheets were tangled around his bare legs like a snake. Dabi kicked them off and sat up in his bed with a wince. “I need some water.” An open water bottle appeared in front of him, which he gratefully took and drank.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

Dabi handed the bottle back to you without looking. “I’m fine.” He said gruffly; more so than he intended. But he wasn’t fine. Everything hurt. His head was pounding. His damaged nerves were starting to scream while his body felt as if it had been forced into a box that was too small, aching in places he never thought it could ache. Underneath it all, humming low like a wild animal growling a warning, sat an uneasiness - a dark, nervous energy - threatening to envelop him and wrap him up tightly in despair. Flashes of dreams – or were they memories? – threatened to drag him back down into the darkest parts of himself.

Dabi grappled for control, but he was losing.

You placed a concerned hand over his and he withdrew from your touch, the affection foreign to him. The heavy weight of shame sat deep in his gut as he took in your weary face. Somewhere, beneath the noisy din of his mind, a thought occurred to him: this was taking its toll on you too.

“Why are you still here?” he asked as he laid back onto his damp pillow, his arm over his eyes.

“Because you need me.” You replied.

He clenched his jaw. “No, I don’t.” The words were feeble and weak in his mouth, not an ounce of truth in them. You both knew it.

“I’m too tired to argue with you.” You stated as you rubbed at the bridge of your nose.

“Then go to bed.” He replied.

You wanted to growl in frustration, your own exhaustion making your fuse especially short. If he could just not fight you every step of the way, that’d be great.

“The last time I almost left, you fainted on the bathroom floor in a puddle of water while your body tried to combust itself. So no, I’m not leaving.”

Your tone allowed no more room for argument, your words forcing Dabi to sulk silently. He sat up from his reclined position, his long, scarred legs swinging over the side of the bed to plant firmly on the ground. His leg began to bounce and jitter, an attempt to relieve the irritated, unfocused energy that swirled inside of him like a cyclone. He felt like hell. He was a desert, his body and mind parched as the drugs in his system began to dry up. Even the slightest bit of movement set his nerves ablaze, pain coursing over his skin like a wildfire. He was tired… so fucking tired.

You reached across him, your proximity allowing him to smell the shampoo in your hair as your arm and shoulder pressed against him. For the briefest of moments, he felt something akin to peace break through his stormy mind like sunlight. It was short-lived though. Your closeness left as quickly as it had come, taking the sunshine with it.

“Hey…” you whispered next to him, a pack of crackers in your hand. You opened the packaging and handed him one. “Try to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” He replied.

“I don’t care. You need to eat.” You replied.

He didn’t have the strength to fight you. Begrudgingly, he took the cracker and nibbled on it. There was no pleasure in it, his jaw going through the motions like a machine as he chewed and swallowed.

You continued to talk to him, your voice soft, as you handed him another cracker. “You’re going into withdrawal again.” You stated.

“I know.”

“It might actually feel worse this time.”

“It does.”

Your face blurred as another wave of fiery pain washed over him, making him double over, the cracker crumbling like ashes in his fist. He gasped and panted against it, his body shaking from the stress.

You placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Let me help you.” You said. “Let me use my quirk.”

For the briefest of moments, Dabi’s pained expression lifted, and you could see the desperation in his eyes. “It won’t be enough.” He replied.

“Let me try.” You begged.

He stared at you. It was either this, or drugs.

He nodded.

You took his hand in yours and began to trace your fingers along his staples, your quirk seeping in. He inhaled a sharp breath. The pain dissipated where your touch landed. It soaked into his aching bones like heavy rainfall on a burning forest. There was a moment of clarity, the sensation so shocking that it distracted him from his suffering. Slowly you let your hands follow up the length of his arm, following his scars and leaving a humming numbness in its wake. Then, you took his other hand to continue the same treatment on the other side.

Dabi stared at his painless hand in vague fascination. It didn’t seem like it belonged to him. His vision blurred, memory replacing reality.

His hands were smaller now, the stitches gone. The skin was bubbled and blistered, and he could hear his own quiet sobs as hot tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Hey, sweetie.” A soft voice called. Pale, white, delicate hands wrapped around his own damaged ones.

He looked up to see his mother smiling at him. It was a sad smile, full of love, but never quite reaching her tired eyes.

“It hurts.” He sobbed.

“I know.” She soothed. “It’s okay.” A cool frost began to ghost over his damaged skin, soothing the burning, throbbing pain.

“Why does my quirk hurt me, mommy?” he heard himself ask.

“It’s my fault, honey.” She whispered, tears stinging her grey eyes.

“It’s not your fault.” Dabi whispered.

Your touch on his collarbone pulled him back to reality on a thin, white thread.

“What was that?” you asked, your fingers pausing in their work.

“What?” he replied, disoriented.

“You said ‘it’s not your fault.’” You replied with a confused look. “What’s not my fault?”

“Nothing.” He responded as he turned his head away from your prying gaze.

You didn’t pursue it. Dabi was grateful. Instead, he felt your cool touch return to his collarbone to trace along the muscles of his neck and shoulders. While your touch helped initially, the cloud of suffering followed close behind from the places you had yet to reach, a parade of aches and throbs blaring their horns against his brain. His body focused on the noise and continued to shiver and shake while he struggled to keep himself focused.

His face was next, so you cupped his cheek in your hand and gently returned his averted gaze to you. His blue eyes locked with yours, and you stared into them for a moment, captivated by their beauty, aching with their suffering. He didn’t deserve this. Any of this. You could only hope that what you were doing was enough, that it could make a difference.

Your fingers rushed and fumbled clumsily across the lower half of his face and beneath his eyes. You couldn’t quite explain why. Perhaps it felt too personal, even after all you two had been through so far. You barely touched his lower lip, the sensation of its roughness sending electric tingles up your fingertips. You desperately wanted to slow down, take your time, and cherish. But you couldn’t. Such exploration was far too intimate to happen here, now, under such heavy circumstances.

You paused for a moment in your administrations as sweat started to break across your brow. The light from the bathroom felt unusually bright to your eyes and you could feel a headache start to form. A shiver began to take you as your body became increasingly sensitive to the cool temperature of the room, each soft gust of air from the open window feeling like an icy blast. Even your hearing was more sensitive – you could hear Dabi’s heavy breaths as his body struggled; you could hear the early morning sounds of songbirds beginning to sing as the sky gradually lightened outside. The rumble of a car passing by on the street sounded like a freight train. All of your nerves were beginning to tingle, and you became increasingly aware of the texture of the clothing on your skin, the feel of Dabi’s staples beneath your hands. Most of all, the scarred nerves on your back were beginning their own little dance, sending small shoots of tingling pain up your spine.

It was already happening. The feedback from your quirk was starting to cross the threshold into painful overstimulation. It was happening far sooner than you had hoped. But then again, you’d already used your quirk three times within the past eight hours, and your body was already at its limits in other ways. Even quirks could be impacted by physical fatigue, dehydration, hunger… it was like trying to run a marathon on zero sleep and an empty stomach.

Dread settled into your empty gut, making a home there out of wild, thorny weeds. They tangled themselves in your limbs, slowing your movements as your mind began to race. Would you really be able to help him?

Your worried thoughts were interrupted by the sound of multiple ‘dings’ coming from Dabi’s phone that sat neglected on his nightstand, as a series of text messages came through. Each ding vibrated your inner ear at the loudness. A few minutes later, you heard the sound of bedroom doors opening and closing in the hallway. Your hands froze over Dabi’s skin as you waited and listened. Muffled voices vibrated on the other side of the thin walls, your sensitive ears picking up every word.

“Why the hell do Kurogiri and Shigaraki have us getting up so goddamn early?” Twice complained.

Spinner’s voice answered. “He said he’ll explain it to us downstairs. Something about our next mission, I guess. Something to do with the Yakuza.”

A loud yawn came from Toga. “Couldn’t it have waited?? I still need my beauty sleeeeeep….” She whined.

Magne’s voice soon followed. “You’re already beautiful, sweetie.”

“You’re the best, Magne…”

Their voices faded as they entered the old elevator at the end of the hall, it’s off-key ding marking the closing of the doors.

A heavy silence followed. You and Dabi were alone now, the entire floor empty. A confusing combination of relief and anxiety washed over you. The privacy was good, but then again, there was no one around to help if you really needed it.

You returned your gaze to Dabi who sat in silence while his withdrawal continued to wash over him. If your quirk had helped so far, you couldn’t really tell. His breaths were still labored and his vision unfocused as his body shook slightly. He sat there as if waiting. Waiting for you? Or was he still falling in his mind, waiting to crash hard across the sharp jagged rocks of his withdrawal before you could catch him?

He had more scars you needed to tend to… on his legs, his back, his left side just below his ribs, and over his hips, the dark tissue disappearing beneath his shorts. This wasn’t even counting the rest of the pain he felt everywhere else in his body simply from not having any drugs in his system. You were only able to do damage control on the parts that hurt the most. What if it wasn’t enough? It wasn’t a possibility you had considered before.

You swallowed, your mouth and throat dry. You had to try.

“Let’s take off your shirt.” You said. “It’ll make it easier for me to reach your other scars.”

He didn’t respond to you, his gaze unfocused.

Scars… scars….

The word echoed in his mind, and he followed it as it led him down an invisible road to another memory.

“Eww, look at his scars!” a kid said to his friend, his finger pointing.

The friend wrinkled in disgust. “Gross!”

“Dabi?” a voice called. He turned and saw his sister. His brow furrowed. Something wasn’t right. The name didn’t match the movement of her lips…

“Dabi??” your voice cut through, and the memory disappeared.

Dabi looked up at you, confused. “Hm?”

“Your shirt. We have to take it off.”

He silently lifted his shirt over his head, while you watched him with worry. It wasn’t hard for you to figure out what was happening. He was having long moments of non-responsiveness, getting repeatedly lost in his thoughts. You didn’t know much about him, but you could hazard a guess that this guy probably did not have a happy backstory. Villains never did. No doubt the lack of drugs in his system was bringing up that backstory for him right now. The concern, however, was that that was something that was completely outside of your scope. Physical pain was one thing. Mental pain was an entirely different beast. All you could hope for was that your physical treatments could help him enough that he could handle his mental issues by himself.

You took a moment to assess his body and how it was responding to your quirk. His leg no longer bounced, and the shivering was reduced. He showed no hesitation or pain when he removed his shirt. It was definitely doing something.

It gave you hope.

You kept going, your hands washing over wherever the scars presented themselves. Your relief continued to pour into him, but it was impaired now, impacted by your body’s need to limit itself. It was like holding your hand in increasingly hot water – at some point your body was going to recoil to protect you before you burned yourself. You were pushing yourself dangerously far, but you didn’t have a choice. If you stopped now, all of this would be for nothing.

As you struggled to treat every damaged part of him, your heightened senses became worse and worse. And the scar on your back… the one that you always kept covered, the one you never told anyone about because of what it represented… that hurt the most. It burned nearly as fresh as it had when you first got it, a hot searing pain, and panic started to seep into your mind.

You forced yourself to focus on the present, to keep yourself in control. Your hands were on his legs now. You counted the staples as your fingers passed over them.

One, two, three, four, five…

This was the reason you needed your meds. Everything else you could handle on your own. But the scar… the scar always hurt if you pushed too far, and the memories associated with it were never far behind. And this was the farthest you had pushed in a long time

Six, seven, eight, nine…

But you couldn’t take your pills. And you couldn’t cry. Dabi would see it, and there was no telling how he would respond. You silently clenched your jaw and hoped that he didn’t notice the sweat across your skin or the way your hands were shaking now.

Finally, your hands reached his feet, and you couldn’t deny your fingers rushed across the staples that marked the end of your journey. Your touches were done, your quirk spent. Your body was tensed now, each muscle tightened in an attempt to keep yourself together.

You looked back up at him and watched him intently, hopefully, forcing your eyes to focus on him and only him, as you tried to tune out the rest of the environment that was demanding your attention. His body no longer shook. But his eyes were still glazed over and his hands were still wrapped around his core. Was he still in pain? Or was he holding himself for comfort?

Although the battleground of Dabi’s body was more balanced now with your help, the war within himself was far from over. His muscles still ached where your hands had yet to reach, and his head still hurt almost to the point of sickness. But most importantly, while your touch soothed the physical, the mental was left unbarred. The demons of the flesh were replaced by demons of the past, as memory after suppressed memory crashed back into Dabi’s defenseless mind.

“Don’t stop.” He begged in a strained whisper. “I need more.”

Your eyes widened. You didn’t have any more. You gave everything you could and now you were hanging on by a thread.

You no longer had the will or strength to hold in your emotions. Tears slipped down your cheeks, wet roads marking your failure, your failure to subdue his suffering as you had promised.

“I can’t.” you sobbed.

He stared at you foggily, confused by the tears on your cheeks. Were you crying?

“Are you crying??” demanded a deep, angry voice.

Dabi squeezed his eyes shut against the sound, as memory mingled with reality. It sounded real.

Dabi knew he was hallucinating from the withdrawal. Years of dependency had the wires in his brain crisscrossed, and now they were misfiring as it tried to process the trauma he had neglected. Even so, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his father was here. He sensed his towering, overbearing presence, could feel the heat of the fire rolling off of his broad shoulders. He wasn’t ‘Dabi’ in that moment. He was ‘Touya,’ small and weak. He couldn’t suppress the fear that followed, crawling up his skin like a thousand ants. He wanted to run from it, but he couldn’t.

This was hell. He was in hell. He couldn’t make the voices stop, couldn’t make the memories disappear. He was cornered, with no way out.

Dabi craved surrender, to satisfy the addiction and let it wash over him. He wanted it drown his shame and agony, leaving nothing but that comforting, vengeful rage he was so used to. It was the only thing that worked, the only thing he believed in. If he could just get the right drugs, enough drugs, then all of this would go away. It was his only option. Earlier was just a mistake, his broken mind reasoned. He wouldn’t have thrown up those pills if he ate something, after all. This time… this time, he’d be okay. He ate those crackers, didn’t he?

Desperation fueled him, fear and exhaustion consumed him as he locked his eyes on you with intense purpose. “I need those pills. NOW.”

You shook your head vigorously as your words fell from your trembling lips. “I don’t have them.” More tears slipped down your cheeks.

“ARE YOU CRYING??”

A child sobbed.

“Get up. I SAID GET UP.”

Dabi’s blood went cold. He knew this memory. No, no, no…

Dabi leapt out of his bed, nearly knocking you over in the process.

His frantic eyes spotted your medical bag against the wall and before you could even get off the bed, he was dumping its contents all over the floor. Scissors, gauze, over-the-counter pain medicine, and a variety of other items rolled across the hard wood with a clatter. You winced. He threw the bag aside when he couldn’t find what he wanted.

“Where did you put it??” Dabi demanded. His world spun, but he managed to find the wall with his hand and used it to brace himself up.

“I can’t tell you that.” You replied as you stood up.

“So now you’re keeping them from me?” he seethed.

Now that he knew the drugs weren’t in the room, you knew he would try to leave. You made yourself stand up, stifling a cry with a bite of your tongue as your shirt rubbed against your back, to position yourself between him and the door. Fear coursed through you. Even though he was weakened from all that he’d gone through, you knew he could easily overpower you.

You put your hands out towards him cautiously. “We either deal with this now and be done with it, or we deal with it all over again later when the pills run out. You’ve already been through so much. Please, Dabi, don’t give up. You can fight this.”

“You’re pathetic. Weak, like your mother.”

He covered his ears, a futile attempt at blocking the voices from within.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t fight this. The pain was too much, the exhaustion too heavy, the emotions too raw. He needed the drugs. His survival depended on it. Without them, he would go insane. Hadn’t he suffered enough? He wanted to scream, to break things, to ignite his cremation and send everything to ash, including himself. But he didn’t. Perhaps it was the cowardice of dying, or the dissatisfaction of unfinished business, or even the simple fact that you were here with him. Instead, he tried to step around you, but you matched him move for move, blocking his exit. He was trapped.

“Get the fuck outta my way.” Dabi growled.

“No.” you said firmly, even as your body shook in fear and pain. Your eyes were trained on his hands. What if he decided to use his quirk? He wouldn’t… would he?

His face contorted in rage. Betrayal, his mind seethed. You cared more about protecting your precious stash than you did about him. How could you be so fucking selfish?

“You just want to keep the pills for yourself.” He spat.

His accusation shocked you. “W-what?”

“Admit it. You’re a fucking addict just like me. THAT’S WHY YOU WON’T LET ME HAVE ANY!”

“I’m not!” you protested. “Dabi, I’m trying to help you!”

“I’m sorry!” Touya begged. “Let me try again. I just wanna be like you! I wanna be a hero, too!”

“You’ll NEVER be like me! You’re a DISGRACE! A failed experiment!”

“No, no, NO!” Dabi shouted as he squeezed his eyes shut, his fists pounding his head. He opened his eyes, a wildness in them that terrified you. He grabbed at you then, his long fingers wrapping around your biceps with shocking force as he prepared to physically move you from his path. You cried out in pain, his touch like knives against your sensitive skin.

“Dabi, stop it, you’re hurting me!” you cried.

Your frantic words cut through his crazed mind. He stared at you, bewildered, taking in the terror in your eyes, the tears on your face. He saw his hands gripping you, your arms bent up in front of you defensively in fear.

In fear of him.

He let you go, stumbling back a step. He stared at his open palms in horror, his chest heaving. He’d grabbed you. Hurt you. It was his worst fear come to life. He really was like him.

His hands morphed before his eyes, the scars and staples vanishing, and suddenly they were bigger, rougher. They were his father’s hands. And as he looked up, he no longer saw you. Now, he saw his mother, her eyes holding the same fear yours did a moment ago, a fear he’d seen countless times as she tried to defend her children. Those eyes were now trained on him, and it felt as if his soul was being ripped to shreds.

“I-I’m sorry.” He stuttered. He needed her forgiveness. Did he even deserve such a thing? He fell to his knees with a choked sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He repeated.

You stared in shock as you watched him fall apart before you, rambling apologies and broken words falling from his lips. You whispered that it was alright, but he couldn’t hear you, too far lost in whatever nightmare he was stuck in. You knelt next to him and placed a gentle hand on his back, rubbing small circles in the space between his shoulders.

He could feel it… his mother’s touch, cool on his back and warm on his soul. He was falling and no longer knew where he was. He only knew that this touch between his shoulder blades was an anchor to a place he couldn’t reach, a place he longed for but never believed existed for him. It was an exoneration, made of mercy and love, sewing together his broken pieces with a golden thread. He wasn’t worthy of it. He cried.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you bore witness to his agony, this unknown monster that haunted him as he sobbed, completely dismantled and unaware of your presence. There was nothing you could do, no way you could help him through this. All you could do was be here for him. You wouldn’t let him go through this alone

You wrapped your arms around his head as you buried your face into his black hair, your own tears running down into his dark strands. His body responded, lean, strong arms wrapping around your waist as he pressed himself against your stomach and suddenly the two of you were entwined, with him halfway in your lap, gripping you like a child would his mother as his body shook and his tears ran hot into your clothes.

With every inch of you on the brink, your body screamed at his iron-like grip around your waist. Even so, you twined your fingers into his thick hair, bracing the palms of your hands against his sweating skull. With one last surge, you drew what you could of your quirk, scraping the dredges of your ability, and pushed, deep into his brain where the pain still sat like a bullet in a wound that couldn’t heal. A choked sob escaped your lips as your body was pushed passed its threshold, your world exploding in color, sound, and pain. Dabi’s own sobs fell silent and his body went limp in your lap, his arms around your waist going slack. He was unconscious.

A deafening silence fell across the room, slowly replaced by the sounds of daily life from outside – the bustle of traffic, someone’s radio blaring, people laughing. It felt out of place in contrast to all that had transpired and clashed harshly with your ears. The sun was completely up now, the grey haze of morning burned away. It seeped past the cracks in the curtains, a beam of light streaking across the floor to kiss the face of the man now passed out in your lap. The brightness of the sunlight made you squint against it, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You watched the tension in his face disappear, furrowed brows and wrinkled forehead smoothing over, his lips parting in a relaxed breath. It was the first time you’d ever seen him look so peaceful.

You watched as your tears fell on his pale cheek to slip down and catch onto a metal ring. Suddenly, you were doubled over him, sobbing violently into his shoulder. The rollercoaster of all that had happened crashed over you in unrelenting waves as your body screamed at the entire loudness of the world around you. As you cried, the broken man beneath you slept. There was no waking him now; his own exhaustion had claimed him once you hit his withdrawal at its source.

After what felt like ages, your sobbing subsided, and your tears dried up. Your body and soul were spent. They screamed for relief, for silence, for sleep. Slowly, you removed Dabi from your lap before finally staring at him, asleep on the floor. There was no way you could get him back into his bed, but you’d do what you could to make him comfortable. Even the slightest bit movement was agony, but you forced yourself forward with painstaking slowness. You managed to get the pillow you had borrowed under his head and draped his blanket over him before you grabbed a water bottle for yourself and downed its contents. You followed it up with a banana, although your stomach roiled slightly, the pain in your lower back bringing forth a wave of nausea that you fought with clenched teeth and deep breaths through the nose.

Every movement was stiff and calculated to try to mitigate your own suffering as you gathered the items Dabi had emptied across the floor earlier. When you finally left his room, it felt like entering another dimension, the hallway oddly quiet and peaceful.

On tired, aching feet you crossed the hallway to your room and entered. As soon as the door closed behind you, you dropped your bag and headed straight for the bathroom. As you passed your closet, you eyed the duffle bag stashed up high in your closet, your mind longingly thinking of its hidden contents. You did your best to ignore it. The idea of having to go through it all again because you couldn’t exercise self-control was enough to keep you from giving into temptation.

Instead, you pulled your over the counter pain relief pills from your medicine cabinet and took four of them; they might not work as well as what you were used to, but it was better than nothing. Your body screamed for sleep, but you knew that sleep would elude you as long as your senses were going haywire and your back burned.

So, you closed your bathroom door to plunge yourself into darkness and turned on your bathtub, adjusting the temperature to an equilibrium that matched with your own body. You undressed yourself, slowly, grateful to no longer feel the itchiness of the cotton on your skin while the soles of your bare feet complained about the cold hardness of your bathroom floor. Once the tub was full and the faucet turned off, you entered the water slowly and submerged yourself until only your mouth and nose were above water.

Immediately, a familiar, comfortable silence fell over you as the water entered your ears and muted your hearing, your closed eyes blocked out any remaining light that the bathroom door couldn’t eliminate, and the water caressed your skin in a gentle, numbing embrace.

This was what you needed – sensory deprivation. Or, at least the best you could do with your current situation. A heated pool was more ideal of course, but clearly not an option right now. You could feel the edges of the tub press on your skin where you couldn’t quite fit or where the water wasn’t quite deep enough to fully support you with its buoyancy. But still, it was far better than anything else you had at your disposal.

If it weren’t for the fear of water getting into your nose and lungs, you would have fallen asleep right there in an instant. Instead, you lingered, your mind filled with memories and thoughts of the gauntlet you had somehow managed to survive. You wondered if Dabi would remember all of it when he finally woke up, or if some of it would get lost or buried.

Will he be okay after you used your quirk on his mind? You hadn’t thought about it when you did it – your instinct took over, fueled by desperation and emotional turmoil at seeing him fall apart in front of you against his will. You’d never used your quirk like that before, and it scared you.

There was nothing you could do but wait. Wait and see what happened.

You left the bathtub once the water started to get cold and dressed yourself in your softest article of clothing before falling into bed. Your blackout curtains did their best to block out the daytime, but nothing could be done for the noise, the old windows made of thin glass. But fatigue pulled heavy, its weight stronger than your quirk’s feedback. Time lost its meaning as sleep finally found you, pulling you into its gentle arms while visions of Dabi filled your dreams. __________________________________________________________________

Part 7

____________________________________________________

Taglist (always open!): @lemonfvck @vs-redemption @inanabsentia @sheedaabee @toshiuwuu @marydragneell @chillinwithmybakubros @genuinelytodorokisbitch @sam-i-am-1025 @redflannel @axerrri @necccomancy @miadraws0 @hot-pocket01 @hopelessdisasterr @dummythiccwitch @villainsdeku @aquzairus @officialtrashbusiness @hemdem018 @purplesweethart @doebopeepeebbod @ghost-of-todoroki @marvel-philosophy @lysawayne @udontneedtokno @citrussaurus @littleladdty @starsforannie @zunmie @mae-rd @mrsreina @ohh-takuuu @ih8beefnoodles @kellyyween @jojoniles @steale24

378 notes · View notes