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lucygxybaird · 17 days ago

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12 Days of Christmas - Day 7

You really should have seen this coming.

Your balance has never been good, as proven multiple times over the course of your childhood.

You still have a small scar on your left knee from an accident suffered when you were learning to walk (why your parents let you toddle around on your gravel driveway, you still don’t understand). It took you nearly four months to learn to ride a bike, because you kept falling over every time your dad let go. After your mother enrolled you in a gymnastics class, as a result of you begging for months, she had to take you out again after you first lesson because the balance beam represented such a risk to your safety — and the safety of the other children — that she feared a lawsuit.

Even as an adult, you can’t wear those fluffy slipper socks on stairs for fear of serious injury.

So you really don’t know why you decided to volunteer to hang up the green-and-red streamers over the gymnasium door. Point of fact, you don’t know why you agreed to help decorate at all. You mean well, but you’re not crafty. Every stamp on the Christmas cards you sent out this year were crooked, for God’s sake.

Your only excuse is that you really, really want to fit in at this school. You’ve always wanted to be a teacher, and the high school in East Linfield seems like a good one.

It certainly didn’t help your worries that you started so late in the year, because the previous teacher had moved with his husband to Palm Springs. The kids hadn’t even finished reading A Tale of Two Cities, and here you were trying to fuse your own lesson plan with the one they’d been working on. You were excited and frazzled and anxious all at once, a potent cocktail that meant you had your guard down.

So when another woman in the English department asked if you were free tonight, because they really needed an extra hand decorating the gym for the Winter Snowball, you found yourself smiling and saying, “Sure! I’d love to help out.”

Which is how you find yourself balancing on your tiptoes, on the very top of a stepladder, and you’re so, so close to getting the tinsel where you need it to be. If you could just get it a little bit — you push yourself a smidge higher on your toes, your fingers brush the nail where you’re meant to drape it, and —

There’s a very concerning creak, and you feel rather than see the stepladder slip out from under your feet as it collapses like a house of cards in a wind tunnel. You clutch uselessly, desperately, at the yard of tinsel in your hand as you fall backward, your arms windmilling like that’s going to help you in any way whatsoever.

Bang!

You wish that was the sound of the stepladder hitting the ground, but that flimsy thing couldn’t make so much noise if it was bounced around in a car trunk by a very tiny, very angry gorilla. No, in actuality, it’s the sound of your head smacking against the gym floor hard enough for you to see stars. Which is something you thought was a cliche, but it’s true. Points of light explode behind your eyes, one after the other, like silent fireworks.

When you open your eyes — not that you remember closing them — you see a face hovering over yours, and you realize you aren’t actually on the floor anymore. You’re being cradled in someone’s arms, propped up in their lap. It takes you a few moments to realize that the arms and the face bent over you, concern etched all over it, belong to the same person.

Moments after this realization comes another one.

You know this guy.

“Alex,” you say fuzzily, and his anxious expression melts — momentarily — into a smile.

“That’s right,” he says. “Yeah, I’m Alex. We met last week, remember?”

You do, if only because you’d thought then — as you do now — that he’s very, very cute. “I remember,” you assure him.

He smiles at you again. “Okay,” he says. “I’m gonna try to get you up now, alright? You ready?”

You nod.

“Okay,” he repeats. “Alright—!”

And then he scoops you up into his arms, standing up with a little grunt of effort, and you clutch at him like you’re holding onto a life preserver in the middle of the ocean. Both your stomach and your vision stage separate revolts, like they’re eighteenth century American colonists and French citizens, respectively. You clutch at Alex’s shoulders for a moment while he looks at you with increasing alarm.

“Are you okay?” he says. “We should get you to the emergency room.”

Your stomach flips all over again at the thought of doctors, not to mention the astronomical bills you’ll have to pay. “No, no, I’m fine,” you assure him. “You can put me down now.”

“Oh—” It seems like he’s forgotten you’re even in his arms. “Oh, yeah, right, of course, sure.”

He sets you down, his hand still on the small of your back. By now, other people are starting to rush over, all of them looking concerned, although you think at least one of them — the woman who asked you to help, for one — might be more worried about how litigious you are than the state of your skull.

“I’m okay,” you tell all of them, a statement which immediately collapses as soon as you try to take a step forward.

The moment that you do, your knees buckle as a wave of dizziness washes over you. Multiple pairs of hands reach for you, but when you’re actually able to focus again, it’s Alex’s face that you see.

“I don’t think you’re okay,” he says, his tone so deadpan that you have to bite on your lower lip to keep from laughing. Maybe he mistakes this for a grimace of pain, because his eyebrows beetle down lower over his eyes as he frowns anxiously. “Really, I think you need to go to the hospital.”

Maybe it’s because you’re too dizzy — and increasingly nauseous — to think straight, or maybe it’s because Alex looks so endearingly concerned, as if you’re more than some coworker he only met a few days ago. As if he really cares.

You cave.

“Okay,” you say. “Yeah, okay.”

Alex lets out a breath as you agree, not so much a sigh of relief as of resignation, as if now he’s gotten one item on his checklist done and he has to move on to another. “Come on,” he says, and he anchors an arm around your waist, supporting you as he leads you toward the gym doors.

From the corner of your eye, you see everyone else just standing there, looking bemused if not helpless. A few of them start drifting back to whatever tasks they were working on before you so elegantly displayed how graceful you are. They all seem perfectly happy to let Alex take care of you, but you can’t fault them for that.

You’re perfectly happy with it, too.

As Alex nudges the doors open with his shoulder, you say, “You’ll stay with me, right?”

The doors swing open to admit the two of you into the hall, and as they bang shut behind you, Alex pauses to look you right in the eye. “Yes,” he says. “Unless somebody with a stethoscope and a degree way beyond my capabilities tells me I can’t.”

You can’t help but smile, and when you do, his face softens again. While he’s looking at you like this, you really have no choice but to revisit the he’s very, very cute idea again. And very tall. Which you suppose isn’t saying much, since you stopped growing when you were around fourteen.

“Thank you,” you say softly.

He gives a little bow of his head, a movement that’s oddly formal but nonetheless absolutely adorable. “Of course.”

Alex helps you to his car, tucking you into the passenger seat. “Hold on,” he says, and lopes around to the trunk, which he unlocks — you wonder how old his car is — and then rummages around in.

He returns a few moments later with a first aid kit, which he balances on the dashboard in front of you before popping it open. After a few moments of semi-frantic rummaging, he pulls out a cold compress and gently cups the back of your head, laying the cold compress against the rising knot poking up near your left ear.

“What are you doing?” you mutter, as he takes your hand and puts it against the other end of the compress, before moving his own.

Alex jogs around the hood of the car and slides into the driver’s seat, starting the engine before he answers you. “It’s for the pain,” he says. “And to bring the swelling down.”

“Oh.”

He navigates out of the school parking lot and you tip your head back, pinning the cold compress between your throbbing skull and the headrest.

You reach the center of town without incident, but then —

“Oh my God,” Alex says, and you can’t help a snort-laugh (although you wish you could, because it makes your headache worse).

It’s as close to bumper-to-bumper traffic as a relatively small town is capable of exhibiting. Looking at the sea of cars stretching beyond the windshield, you let out a faint moan. Alex shoots you a worried look from the corner of his eye that you aren’t meant to see, but you do, so you bite your lip.

“Are you okay?” he says. “I mean, do you feel — I don’t know — queasy or anything? Or like you’re going to pass out?”

You consider this. “No,” you say. “My head just hurts. I’ve never had my had squeezed by the Hulk but I’m guessing it would feel pretty similar to this.”

Alex huffs out a laugh.

“Don’t worry,” you tell him. “I don’t think I’m going to throw up in your car.”

“I’m not worried about that,” he says. “I’m worried about you.”

You smile, looking over at him. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t absolutely freak out if I threw up in your car right now?”

The line of cars ahead of you moves forward a few precious feet, and Alex manages to weave his car ahead of a few others. He’s concentrating so much on this maneuver that he doesn’t respond to you at first, but then he admits, “Well…I’d try to keep my freaking out to myself as much as I could.”

“I appreciate that.”

It takes nearly half an hour for the hospital to come into view, and even then, it takes another fifteen to finagle a way into the parking lot. By the time Alex has actually found a spot and parked, you do in fact feel a little queasy.

The whole time, though, Alex keeps asking you questions, probably just trying to keep you awake (although you’re pretty sure you read somewhere the whole “concussed people shouldn’t be allowed to sleepthing” is a myth or something, but still).

Where are you from?

You told him, and he says that he’s been there on a vacation with his best friend. You asked him what he liked best. He said the food, which made you laugh. “Did you go to this place called Justine’s? They have the best friend chicken in the world.”

No, he’d said, and you told him that the two of you would have to go back someday and you’d take him. The words had slipped out before you could stop yourself — this was the first full conversation you’d really had with him, and here you were offering to whisk him away — but Alex had only smiled at you. “That sounds nice,” he’d told you.

He asked you when you realized you wanted to teach — in the sixth grade, when you met an English teacher who encouraged you to write, and you never forgot that — and why you moved to Linfield. You said that it was far enough from home for you to have independence, but not so far that traveling back home would cost an arm and a leg.

You’re pretty sure he’d said, I’m glad you chose this place, but at that point you’d hit a speed bump and an invisible railroad spike had been driven into your skull. By the time Alex had finished apologizing, the moment had passed.

“Okay, here we are,” Alex says, pulling into a space. “Wait for me.”

He hops out and is about to slam his door before he takes a look at your face. Closing the door so carefully it could be made of porcelain, he hustles around the front of the car and opens your door for you, scooping his arm around your waist and helping you to your feet.

“Almost there,” he says encouragingly, his tone suggesting you’re lagging in the final leg of a marathon.

He propels you through a pair of automatic doors and into the waiting room, which is — of course — packed, but fortunately not too packed that you can’t find two chairs together. Alex deposits you in one of them while he hurries to the front desk.

He returns a few moments later with a clipboard loaded with insurance forms, which he looks apologetic about. “I know this seems like a lot,” he says, waving the clipboard around, “but I’ll help you. I’ll write stuff down if you want.”

“Please,” you say.

So he sits next to you, his shoulder bracing yours, and writes down your answers in his careful printing. You smile. “You have really nice handwriting,” you say. “It looks like typography.”

Alex chuckles. “Thank you.”

When all the forms are finally done, you realize your head is on his shoulder. It feels very, very heavy, but you do your best. “Sorry,” you say.

To your surprise, Alex reaches over and puts his hand on your cheek, pushing your head back down. “It’s okay,” he says. “Leave it, if you’re comfortable.”

You are. His shoulder is broad and warm, and with your head nestled there, you catch the faint but distinctive scent of pine. “Okay,” you sigh.

Alex pats your knee gently. “Okay,” he agrees.

The two of you sit in (relative) silence, before you say, “Alex?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you being so nice to me? We barely know each other. You could have just as easily have dropped me off and gone back to your day.”

From the corner of your eye, you see him shake your head. “No,” he says simply. “I couldn’t have. It’s not how I am.”

It’s not the most verbose explanation, but you don’t need one. His words strike you cleanly and easily as true, as if someone has told you the sky is blue or water is wet. You don’t have to look out a window or dunk your head in a lake to know that. Alex just isn’t the sort of person who can turn his back on someone who needs him.

“Thank you, anyway,” you say. “I’m glad we’re getting to know each other, even if I might have lost a few brain cells in the process.”

He chuckles. “I don’t think that’s how that works,” he says. “But me too.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “It was probably just some math brain cells. I was never very god at that, anyway.”

“Two plus two is?”

“Mmm — 22?”

“So close.”

Later, you try to blame it on the fact that your brains have been scrambled around in your skull like the little white flakes in a snow globe; a little while later still, you think it just felt right. It takes you a while to realize you’ve even done it, but eventually, you look down to discover that you’re holing Alex’s hand.

And not lightly, either, but with your palm nestled into his, your fingers laced together. You frown down at this, puzzled. “When did this happen?”

Alex glances down at your linked hands. “I don’t know,” he says, and gives a little shrug, the motion small enough not to jostle your head. “It’s okay.”

And then he squeezes your hand, running his thumb lightly over your knuckles in a way that indicates maybe it’s more than okay.

A voice calls your name, and you reluctantly pick your head up from Alex’s shoulder. “We’re ready for you,” a nurse is saying, and Alex helps you to your feet.

You hop up on the little table-bed thing with its crackly wax paper spread over the top, your feet swinging idly. You catch Alex muffling a smile into his collar, and you smile back at him just as a nurse steps into the room.

By the time you walk out of the doctor’s office, clutching a prescription for pain medication, Alex looks marginally more relaxed. “At least we know you’re okay,” he says, letting out a long breath. “Do you have anyone to check on you?”

“Check on me?”

Alex nods. “You’re supposed to check on someone with a concussion to make sure they’re breathing normally,” he says.

You blanch. “Is that unlikely? That I’d be breathing normally?”

At once, consternation washes over Alex’s face. “No, no, no,” he says quickly. “No. It’s just…I mean, they say it’s okay to check on someone with a concussion, to make sure — you know — but — I mean, I guess…I’m — I feel like it’s better safe than sorry, and I don’t want…”

You smile, mostly to reassure him but also because it’s adorable, the way he’s babbling, trying to comfort you. “Alex, if you’re trying to invite yourself over, you can always just ask.”

He smiles back at you. “Can I come over?”

“Sure.”

You direct him to your apartment, and he insists on helping you up the stairs, like you’re a feeble little grandma whose hip will shatter if she lifts her foot at the wrong angle. When you let the two of you into your apartment, Alex asks where your linen closet is.

“I’m not a middle-aged woman with a collection of needlepoint throw pillows,” you say. “I don’t have a linen closet.”

“Okay, so where you do you keep your extra blankets?”

You tell him you keep them in a storage ottoman at the foot of your bed, and he says, “Oh, a linen closet is too old for you, but a storage ottoman is the peak of youth culture?”

“Did you ask just to make fun of me?”

“No.” He nudges you toward your own couch. “Sit.”

So you do, and you turn on the TV, flipping through your streaming services until you just pick something and try to find a show or movie that you both might like. Which is difficult because you have no idea the sort of thing Alex likes to watch, so you settle on a docuseries about the Love Has Won cult. Doesn’t everybody find that fascinating? At least in the “can’t look away from a car wreck” kind of way?

You look up to find Alex carrying a couple of blankets and a pillow, all of which he tucks around you until you’re shaped rather like the Michelin man. He settles down beside you and raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t this the Mother God woman?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.” He wriggles his shoulders until he’s more comfortable beside you. “Interesting. Good pick.”

You find yourself smiling way bigger over that little sliver of approbation than you probably should.

When the show is over, the streaming service offers up similar choices, and you let Alex pick. It’s another multi-episode show, which takes you four hours further on, and then he lets you pick the next.

By the time that one is over, it’s pitch black outside, and you hesitate. “Don’t you have to get home?”

You don’t want him to leave.

“No,” he says. “My cat has an automatic feeder. She’ll be okay without me until morning. Actually, she’ll probably appreciate the solitude.”

“What’s her name?”

“Flannery O’Connor.”

You hum softly. After a moment of hesitation, you put your head back on his shoulder. “Well, she was wrong,” you say.

“Who?”

“Flannery. A good man isn’t hard to find.”

You think there’s a smile in his voice. “No?”

“No,” you say. “I found one right here.”

The two of you sit in companionable silence for a moment, watching a former cult member detail how she had to change her name to Aurora and give up all her credit cards. After a few moments, Alex’s hand finds yours again.

“Do you have plans for New Year’s?” he asks quietly.

“No,” you say.

“Would you like some?”

You smile. “Yes.”

A pause, and then he says: “With me?”

You laugh. “Yes, Alex.”

His fingers tighten briefly around yours. “Good,” he says.

You wonder if he’s thinking about the possibility of a New Year’s kiss. You certainly are. When you flit a glance up to Alex’s face, he’s already looking at you.

Judging by the look in his eyes, you don’t have to wonder if he’s thinking about kissing you at midnight on the last day of the year.

He definitely is.

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dglawgroup · 1 month ago

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Experienced Injury Lawyer in Palm Springs | DG Law Group

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If you've been injured due to an accident or someone else's negligence, you need a Personal injury lawyer in Palm Springs to represent your best interests. At DG Law Group, our team of experienced personal injury attorneys is dedicated to helping clients navigate the legal process and secure fair compensation. We understand how overwhelming it can be to deal with the physical, emotional, and financial challenges of an injury, and we are here to support you every step of the way.

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With years of experience handling a wide variety of personal injury cases, including car accidents, slip and fall incidents, and workplace injuries, DG Law Group is your trusted partner in seeking justice. Our Palm Springs injury lawyers are committed to achieving the best possible outcome for every client. We work on a contingency fee basis, meaning you don’t pay unless we win your case.

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alldesertinsca · 1 month ago

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Specialized Business Insurance in Palm Springs and La Quinta, CA for Hospitality Businesses

Palm Springs, renowned for its vibrant tourism scene, is home to a thriving array of hospitality businesses, including hotels, resorts, restaurants, and tourism-related enterprises. As attractive as the area is for travelers, the unique environment and high customer traffic bring about specific risks that local hospitality business owners must manage. Having the right business insurance in Palm Springs and La Quinta, CA, is essential for protecting assets, mitigating liabilities, and ensuring smooth operations in case of unexpected events. Here's a look at some specialized insurance options that cater to the unique needs of Palm Springs' hospitality businesses.

General Liability Insurance

General liability insurance is a cornerstone for any hospitality business. It provides coverage for third-party claims, including bodily injury, property damage, and personal injury that may occur on the premises. The high foot traffic in hotels, restaurants, and tourist spots increases the risk of accidents like slips and falls. In Palm Springs, where visitors frequently use pools and outdoor areas, having general liability coverage is particularly important for protecting against costly claims.

Commercial Property Insurance

Commercial property insurance is essential for hotels and resorts with expensive equipment, furniture, and other property assets. This policy covers damages to physical property from fires, vandalism, or storms. In Palm Springs, where natural elements like wildfires pose a risk, this insurance provides vital financial protection for replacing or repairing damaged property, ensuring business owners can quickly restore operations after a disaster.

Business Interruption Insurance

A sudden closure or slowdown in business can be financially devastating, particularly in the hospitality industry. Business interruption insurance is designed to cover lost revenue and operating expenses during periods when a business cannot operate due to a covered event, such as a fire or natural disaster. In a tourist-heavy market like Palm Springs, where income can be highly seasonal, this insurance helps maintain stability by covering essential costs like payroll, rent, and utilities during downtimes.

Workers' Compensation Insurance

In California, workers' compensation is mandatory for all businesses with employees. This policy covers medical costs and lost wages for employees who are injured on the job. Given the physical demands of jobs in the hospitality industry—ranging from housekeeping and kitchen staff to maintenance and concierge services—accidents and injuries are not uncommon. Workers' compensation provides financial protection and supports employees in receiving the care and compensation they need after an accident.

Cyber Liability Insurance

Hospitality businesses increasingly rely on digital systems for reservations, payments, and customer data management. However, this reliance brings cybersecurity risks, especially when handling sensitive guest information. Cyber liability insurance covers costs related to data breaches, cyberattacks, and recovery efforts. For hotels in Palm Springs catering to tech-savvy travelers, this insurance is essential for protecting the business and its customers' personal information.

Equipment Breakdown Insurance

From kitchen appliances to HVAC systems and laundry machines, hospitality businesses depend on specialized equipment. Equipment breakdown insurance covers the repair or replacement costs when critical equipment malfunctions due to mechanical or electrical issues.

Umbrella Insurance

Given the heightened risks in the hospitality sector, an umbrella insurance policy can provide additional liability coverage beyond standard policies' limits. This extra protection is precious for businesses with high public exposure, such as hotels and famous restaurants in Palm Springs. Umbrella insurance is a safety net, covering liabilities exceeding existing policies' limits and helping businesses avoid financial distress from high-value claims.

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ozziesauto · 2 years ago

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Supplemental Restraint System - Airbags

After they’ve had an accident, some people wonder why their airbags didn't go off. Movies and television lead us to believe that airbags go off with the slightest bump. The reality is much more complicated. First, airbags come out with great force and speed. Now getting hit in the face with an airbag is way better than getting hit in the face with a windshield – but if the accident impact isn't hard enough that you would be severely injured, the airbags may not be triggered at all because they could do more harm than good.

So how does your vehicle know when an accident is likely to result in life threatening injuries that would merit deploying the airbags? Well, there are sensors all around your vehicle that send information to the Supplemental Restraint System (SRS) computer that decides which airbags should be deployed and when. There are impact sensors that measure the direction and intensity of an impact in the front, rear and sides of the vehicle. There are seat sensors that determine if someone is sitting there as well as how much they weigh. This way an airbag doesn't go off when no one is in a particular seat and it can deploy with less force for a smaller person.

The SRS computer takes into account vehicle speed and if there is a rollover. Built into the computer program are the design specifications of your vehicle as they relate to “crumple” zones in a crash. As you can imagine, the computer program is pretty sophisticated.

Now when an airbag does actually go off, there are some things Palm Desert residents should know about the repairs necessary to the SRS system. First, the deployed airbag should be replaced. Experts recommend that only a factory certified replacement airbag be used. Airbags are valuable enough that they are frequently stolen or recovered from junked vehicles in the Palm Springs area. No one can vouch for these airbags, so a certified replacement is essential.

When the driver side airbag in the steering wheel deploys, the steering wheel clock spring is usually damaged and should be replaced. Also, an “airbag worthy” event pre-triggers all of the sensors we've been talking about. In this pre-triggered state, something as slight as hitting a pothole could cause airbags to deploy. So after an airbag has actually been deployed, all of the SRS sensors throughout the vehicle should be replaced. Obviously, airbag work should only be undertaken by qualified service technicians.

Finally, when you start your engine, you will briefly see the SRS dash light come on and then turn off. This is a system self-test. If the SRS light remains illuminated, that means the system has detected a problem that could affect the proper deployment of your airbags. If that happens, get into Ozzie's Automotive as soon as you can to have the fault diagnosed and repaired.

Give us a call.

Ozzie's Automotive 74894 Lennon Place Suite F2 Palm Desert, CA 92260 760.773.5939

www.ozziesautomotive.com

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visionarygu · 2 years ago

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What are the Proven Health and Spiritual Benefits of Meditation in 2023?

Introduction: Meditation as a spiritual form has been in existence for thousands of years. Meditation has strong connections and beliefs that stem from ancient Indian Hindu beliefs. It also has a strong resonance in Buddhist theology, where it has been practised for centuries. Although, there are still varying theories on its primary origin, meditation has been practised across the world by all types of devotees to help them reconnect with their deeper selves. And with the emergence of different forms of spirituality across millennia, it has evolved into a professionally teachable spiritual art with varying spiritual and health benefits.

Top 5 Illustrated Benefits of Mediation with the GU Meditation Classes.

It’s Vital and Critical in Controlling, Reducing, and Reversing Memory loss.

The human brain and mind are subject to several tasks and experiences in the course of their lifetime. These may have varying impacts on each person’s mind and, consequently, memory. Memory loss is attributed to, among other causes, brain tumors, mental disorders, drug and alcohol abuse, sleep-related deficiency, vitamin B-12 deficiency, injuries to the head in an accident, Alzheimer disease, and many other triggers. Meditation is known to not only slow but also reverse completely some of the early symptoms of progressive memory loss.

It Helps Bind Anxiety and Curtail Emotional Stress.

There is a lot of stress and emotional breakdown, sometimes over trivial and marginal issues but at other times overamplifying the conclusions of life’s issues. It keeps growing and expanding as the issues pertaining to life and health keep metamorphosing. If they are traumatic, they tend to leave emotional scars, leading to pessimism, stress, and other related illnesses that need healing. If they are pleasing, they tend to have positive impressions on the mind that promote peaceful and optimistic living. Meditation helps bridge the gaps with clear and optimistic thoughts about life in general. It is the cleanest path that leads to balanced emotions in stressful situations.

Better Communication, Self-Confidence and Good Fortune.

The highly confident communicator didn’t spring out of the blue. They have a progressive self-belief journey and are tireless in their pursuit of those convictions. Moreover, with the benefit of meditation, they have fully transformed into their present reality. Meditation is believed to have the power to transform your path to success or create conducive atmospheres for good fortune in life.

Advances the Development of Inner Calm, Tranquility, and Peace.

The ability to develop or train your mind to calm and gain focus with sustained concentration power derived from clear thoughts and feelings is a result of meditation. There are levels to meditation that help transform the collective mind, body, and soul into another dispensation of overriding inner calm, tranquility, and peace.

Transforms and Empowers Immunity and the Inner Core

Immunity is vital to fight off both major and opportunistic infections. The inner core or strength is a vibrant combination of the body’s defence mechanisms that awakens to new heights or is in a constant state of alertness and readiness. The body develops a new stream of extraordinary healing powers and abilities that help restore health after every attack or exposure to danger. This is a result of the capacity to connect to an inner core, the reserve for deep spiritual energy and power loaded with self-belief and confidence.

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baumlawfirm · 3 years ago

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Hemet Car Accident Lawyer

The Baum Law Firm is the most well-known and skilled Indio and Hemet car accident attorney. We will not charge fees unless and until we obtain money for your case through a legal decision.

Contact Us: Address: 777 E. Tahquitz Canyon Way, Suite 200-100, Palm Springs, CA 92262, United States Phone: (760) 325-2681 Website: https://baumlawfirm.com/

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palmdesertaccidentattorney00 · 4 months ago

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Get Top Representation for Car Accidents with Accident Lawyers in Palm Desert

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merakiui · 4 years ago

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Heey saw requests were open so I couldn't help but come check out and ask! Will you be okay if you do a Xiao, Zhongli, Diluc and Childe with a S/O who tries to took a hit for them from getting killed by an enemy?

Xiao, Zhongli, Diluc, and Childe with an S/O who Shields Them From an Attack

☁️ Xiao ☁️

You dragged him along so that he could get some fresh air and help you with your commissions. Xiao would rather stay inside, but you seemed to want to spend time with him so it’s hard to object.

Xiao definitely tried to avoid going with you, but you had kissed his cheek and said it’s more fun if he accompanies you. His weak heart agreed right away.

So not only is he there to provide moral support and company, he’s also there to make sure you’re not going to do anything foolish.

He’s already defeated multiple enemies while you looked through crates for extra materials. If he were mortal, your carelessness probably would’ve shaved a few years off of his life.

He keeps telling you to pay attention and you say you are, but then you turn away and next thing you know an arrow comes whizzing past you.

Xiao’s picking up a damaged mask from the grassy ground, wiping the grime from it, when your shout alerts him. And before he knows it you’re tackling him to the ground.

He’s surprised and a little angry, snapping at you to be more careful. Your grip on his shirt tightens and he wonders what’s gotten into you.

When Xiao places his hand upon your back and finds the arrow sticking out of it, he freezes. You just...shielded him from an attack. And in the process you ended up getting hurt.

Warm blood coats his fingers and you’re doing all that you can to avoid bursting into tears in front of the stern adeptus. He sits up with you, wasting no time in swiftly defeating the archer hilichurl. His anger can be felt in the way he attacks mercilessly, showing no sign of letting up until the hilichurl has fallen to the ground.

Xiao can’t believe you, a mortal, would shield him, an immortal, from an arrow. He knows you love him, but to so readily take a hit for him—it’s surprising.

“You...” He wants to call you stupid, but you were only thinking of his safety. Instead he chooses to pacify you rather than berating you for something that has already happened. “You’re going to be okay. It doesn’t look that bad.”

He tends to your injuries to the best of his ability and then will bring you back to Wangshu for further inspection. Once the arrow is pulled out and your injury is cleaned and bandaged, tears finally spring from your eyes. It really, really hurts and you feel bad for making Xiao worry on your behalf.

He’s just relieved you’ll heal normally. But in the future he doesn’t want you to endanger yourself for his sake. After all, he’ll be perfectly fine if he takes a hit that would be fatal to most.

“I just don’t want to see you hurt,” you admit, placing your hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re an adeptus, but it would’ve hurt me more if I’d just let you get hit.”

Xiao sighs, taking your hand in his. “I guess it’s fine... Just don’t do it again, okay?” Deep inside, he’s truly touched that you would throw yourself in front of danger just to protect him, but he doesn’t want this to become a recurring thing for you.

🔶 Zhongli 🔶

You had taken Zhongli out to find some Cor Lapis and other ores you were in desperate need of. He suggested buying them from the locals, but he didn’t bring any Mora and you knew of a few abandoned mines where you could get them for free.

With that logic cemented into place, you and Zhongli headed off for the areas you had marked on your map.

It wasn’t a difficult trip; the two of you worked diligently in clearing any enemies that got in your way and eventually you had made it to the first cave.

Zhongli was reciting the history of Liyue caves and their monetary benefits while you climbed over rubble and debris from past accidents. You’d almost tripped once, but he had caught you out of reflex, seemingly unbothered with your clumsiness.

All was going well. You’d mined a lot of ores with Zhongli’s help and the two of you were about to move onto the next cave when the ground above seemed to shake. Briefly, you glanced up, wondering what could be causing such a disturbance.

“We should be careful. There might be a Ruin Hunter around,” you told him as you navigated through the winding tunnel. Zhongli nodded in agreement with that, easily stepping over fallen stones.

Before you knew what was happening, the entire cave was shaking as another loud explosion resonated from above. Debris from above trickled down like snow and you cowered for a moment, expecting a cave-in.

It was silent for a few minutes and you figured the threat must’ve passed. Zhongli waited for a moment as he listened to the silent, musty air.

Just as you breathed your sigh of relief, the ground shook ten times harder than before, and stones larger than the ores you had mined were raining down at once.

The initial shock was more than enough to have you running for the entrance, pulling a very confused Zhongli along. A stone larger than your foot comes falling, and it’s about to hit Zhongli on the head.

To avoid an accident, you shove him to the front and the rock hits you instead of him. Luckily, it wasn’t on the head, but it did hit your ankle hard.

You’re worried you’ve sprained it after you fall to the ground, more stones pelting you. The next thing you know, Zhongli picks you up in his arms and carries you out of the cave before it can collapse entirely on the both of you.

Concerned for your safety, Zhongli observes your injuries. You’re bruised and your ankle does look sprained. He asks if you can stand and when you try he frowns. It looks like you’re going to need to rest up for a few days.

Zhongli will help you the rest of the way back, occasionally stopping so you can give your legs a rest. He expresses his gratitude and is rather surprised that you would go out of your way to take the hits of many stones and rocks.

Despite being thankful, Zhongli hopes you won’t do this again because he doesn’t like to see you in pain. If you’re hurt, he feels hurt and that’s the last thing he wants.

🔥 Diluc 🔥

A group of slimes were hanging around the winery again and so Diluc went off to deal with the problem. He didn’t expect there to be so many, though.

You had tagged along just in case something like this were to happen. And even though Diluc is strong enough to handle so many enemies, these slimes just kept coming.

It was difficult to deal with all sorts of different slimes: Electro, Anemo, and even Cryo. Despite the fact that he didn’t want you to endanger yourself—he insisted he could handle it—you still did what you could to help.

Once you were certain all the slimes were defeated, Diluc sighed, leaning against his weapon to relax after so much fighting. His back was turned and he didn’t notice the large slime creeping up on him.

You jumped in just in time to prevent the slime from hurting him. It had been a quick reaction, one that you hadn’t thought through entirely.

The Cryo slime is freezing to the touch and as soon as it hits you an icy cold envelops you. You try to look strong in front of Diluc, but it’s just too much and you fall to your knees, shivering while the slime looms over you.

Diluc witnessed the entire thing when he first noticed you jump into action and he’s very surprised to find that last slime. He defeats it at once before dropping down to check your injuries.

You aren’t exactly wounded, but you are very cold. He’s ashamed at himself for not paying closer attention to his surroundings.

While Diluc is grateful that you protected him, he’s disappointed that you’d put yourself in harm’s way. You should’ve just let the slime hit him.

He sheds his coat and drapes it over you, using his own Pyro element to start a fire that’ll have you warm in no time.

“You didn’t have to do that. But...thank you. Next time don’t do anything reckless. You’ll hurt yourself,” he says while checking your body temperature.

“But I wanted to keep you safe, Diluc! You already defeated so many slimes. That last one could’ve done some serious damage.”

He’s touched that you’d worry about him, but he doesn’t want you to do something like that again. It’s upsetting that you got harmed as a result of him and he wants to make sure you’re truly okay.

You drag Diluc under his coat so that his body heat can warm you up faster. And even though he tries to get out of it, he doesn’t complain too much.

It’s hard to be upset at the person he loves so much, especially if they were the one who protected him.

💧 Childe 💧

You and Childe were picking through some ruins, searching for chests and other valuable materials. You were careful to avoid any enemies, as the last thing you wanted to do was fight a bunch of slimes and hilichurls.

Childe fought them in your place, eagerly defeating them while you remained on the sidelines.

Everything was going well until the two of you stumbled upon a Ruin Guard that was slumped over, docile and not yet awake. Childe looked over at you and then at the Ruin Guard and then back at you, grinning madly the entire time.

You could only face palm and shake your head, grabbing his arm and gesturing in another direction. You’d encountered enough monsters today; you definitely didn’t want to waste your energy on a rust bucket. But Childe, who had only been fighting small enemies up until this point, was itching for a bigger opponent.

So he rushed ahead despite your quiet protests. And you were stuck having to watch as he sparred with the Ruin Guard.

You would’ve left it up to him if you hadn’t noticed the second Ruin Guard awakening from its slumber, having been disturbed by the commotion.

One Ruin Guard was already an issue, but now you’ve got to deal with two. You can only sigh as you run in to defeat the second one, hoping it won’t take up too much of your time.

Missiles are everywhere; they’ve nearly destroyed the ground and have cracked the already eroded stone pathways. You’ve nearly fallen victim to them a few times now and if it weren’t for Childe’s quick thinking you would’ve been crushed by their mechanical feet.

The first Ruin Guard falls before the two of you in a heap of exhausted, overheated gears and Childe twirls his bow, a glint of madness of his gaze.

You would’ve called it a day if it weren’t for the other Guard aiming for him, missiles completely locked onto his form.

Without thinking, you jump into action, pushing Childe away before he can be hit. In the process, the missiles slam into the rock formation above you and it comes tumbling down in a dusty rumble.

Now it’s Childe’s turn to save you and he’s quick on his feet, pulling you away before you can be buried under heavy stone. The two of you tumble and you scrape your arms and legs in the fall, doing all that you can to shield your boyfriend before he seriously injures himself.

A particular sharp piece of rubble slices the length of your arm and while Childe recovers to finish off the Ruin Guard you clutch your injured arm to stop the blood flow.

Once the Ruin Guard is defeated, Childe goes over to you, bending down to get a look at your arm. “It’s definitely going to need some work,” he jokes, hoping to put a smile on your face. “Don’t worry. I’ll have it patched up in no time. You can count on it.”

And while he wraps it up, he thanks you for your help. Without it, he would’ve been the one with more injuries than you. And even though he doesn’t mind getting hurt in a battle he doesn’t want you to injure yourself as well. So next time you want to protect him, make sure you won’t hurt yourself in the process!

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alldesertinsca · 2 years ago

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hoboal87 · 4 years ago

Text

Storm

Title: Storm

Pairings: Dean x F!Reader, mentions of Sam x Eileen

Characters: Dean, F!Reader, minor mentions of Sam and Eileen, unnamed OFCs

Word Count: ±2.1k

Warnings: anxiety, car accident, major injuries, angst, fluff, blink and you’ll miss it pre-smut, post 15x19, more spoilers will be in the tags.

A/N: Requested by a nonnie: “Hi sweetie, I adore your writing especially dean fics. Can I pleaaase request a flangsty one shot of dean x reader where they get into a car crash and she's the one who's badly injured?? And maybe they are stuck in a snow storm or something so help would take forever to come and dean is just trying to keep her alive? With lots of worried and gentle dean?? But I don't want her to die pleaaase 🥺🥺 thank you so much. And no pressure if you don't want to write it ❤️”

A special shout-out to @deanwinchesterswitch for taking time during her #BlogAppreciationBounce to beta this for me! Thanks Kym, you’re the best!

My Full Masterlist

My Dean Masterlist

Tags are open! Tag yourself here!

Have a request? Send me an ask or DM!

You walk through the aisles of the grocery store, pushing the ever-growing cart in front of you. You and Dean had finally moved all of your belongings into your new home, and now you needed to stock it full of food. Dean is like a kid in a candy store, grabbing so many unnecessary items that you can only shake your head and suppress your giggles.

A thunderclap from outside makes you jump slightly; spring in Kansas, a woman just a few feet in front of you notes, you politely smile as she suggests stocking up on bottled water and canned goods. When you were living in the Bunker, severe weather wasn’t even on your radar. It was a fortress, with all sorts of magic protecting it. But now, you and Dean are living in an ordinary, run-of-the-mill house, and Kansas is smack-dab in the middle of tornado alley.

Dean meets you at the checkout counter, two pies in hand, and you give the cashier a small smile. Another thunderclap makes you jump, and Dean immediately wraps his arms around your waist, calming you, reminding you that it’s just a little rain. Thunderstorms had made you anxious ever since your family was attacked by a wendigo when you were a teenager. Every storm dredges up memories of you and your family fighting for your lives as the creature used a storm to hide in the shadows and the sounds of thunder to cover its inhuman screams.

Rain begins to fall as you load bag after bag into the trunk of Baby, empty now that Dean has retired. A large bolt of lightning strikes, brightening up the sky, making the heavy, dark clouds visible for a moment.

As Dean pulls Baby out of the parking lot, rain has begun falling; scattered droplets softly thumping on the roof of the car. You and Dean live away from town, out in the middle of nowhere, your closest neighbors being Sam and Eileen, owning the property next to yours, but their house was still being built, so for the time being, it was only you and Dean for nearly five miles. It didn’t seem like a lot of distance when you first chose the property; in fact, you originally wanted to buy both pieces of land so that you and Dean could have all 10 acres to yourselves.

Dean drives past the Gas n’ Sip, the closest business next to your home, and turns down the road that would eventually lead to your new house. The five-mile distance shouldn’t seem like a lot, but now, as the rainfall becomes heavier, you wished you’d chosen a home closer to town.

The thick, heavy rain makes it almost impossible for you to see anything more than a few feet in front of you. You take a long, calming breath, trying to keep your nerves intact as lightning strikes again in the distance. Dean notices your nerves starting to get the better of you and reaches over to give your knee a reassuring squeeze before bringing the car to a stop.

“You wanna wait out the rain?” He asks, taking your sweaty palm into his own.

“Food’ll spoil,” you counter, trying to cover your growing nerves.

“S'just food, sweetheart,” Dean unbuckles himself and slides closer before reaching over to do the same to you. “We can get more tomorrow.”

Dean wraps his arm around your shoulders as the storm seems to grow even stronger. He places a gentle kiss on your lips and reaches to the back seat, grabbing a blanket to cover you both. Under the worn blanket, Dean’s hand rubs up and down your thigh, inching closer to your covered core. This wouldn’t be the first time that Dean’s tried to get frisky in the Impala; hell, not even the third or fourth but with your anxiety running on high, the last thing you want is to fool around.

You don’t have to say anything, just gently intertwining your fingers with his and he seems to get the message. You curl up against him, basking in his familiar warmth and smell, praying that the storm would soon be over. Your heart thumps rapidly in your chest as the wind howls with enough force to cause the Impala to rock slightly on the road.

After you’ve calmed, Dean suggests heading on home. You nod slightly, wanting nothing more than to crawl into the comfort of your bed. He slides back over before shifting the car into gear and slowly starts accelerating.

Pain. Cold. Wet.

Steam rises from Baby’s engine, and thunder claps again. The last thing you remember is a horn honking and Dean slamming on the brakes before everything went dark. Your body lies limp on the hood of the car, glass shards from the windshield surrounding you.

The Impala’s front end is crushed, and the heat from the engine warms you as you try to piece together what happened. You can hardly focus on anything; there’s another car a few yards away; it must be the one you collided with. You try to move your body, but it’s then you realize that you can’t feel anything below your waist. You groan as you desperately try to move, hoping that you can will yourself onto your feet and find Dean. You can barely make out a low moan through the sound of the rain hitting the metal. You want to turn, but you can't; pain radiates throughout your body, at least the parts you can still feel. You try to call out to Dean, to anyone for help, but you can't find the words to do so. Your brain and mouth aren't connecting, and the only sounds that you manage to make are whimpers of pain.

A figure appears in the rain, cursing as he seems to take in your broken figure; he's almost yelling at what you can only assume is some 911 dispatcher.

"Shit.. one of the passengers…conscious? The driver? I'll try…"

The man appears at your side, and you can still see the phone attached to his ear.

"Ma'am? Can you hear me?" He asks cautiously, you want to nod, but you're too afraid to move your head, afraid that you could accidentally hurt yourself further. "Her eyes are open; she's breathing," the man relays into the phone. "Uh.. ragged. There's blood… Ma'am? I'll try that. Blink if you can hear me."

You slowly but deliberately blink your eyes. The man breathes out a sigh of relief.

"Y/N!" Dean's voice comes from through the broken windshield. The man hurries away from you and towards Dean. You can only make out the muffled noises as the man tries to convince Dean to stay inside Baby, but you know he won’t; he’s too stubborn to listen to anyone.

The rain begins to let up, and the man tells Dean that an ambulance is on the way. The sound of Dean’s boots on the wet concrete put you at ease, knowing that he’s, at the very least, in better shape than you are. You count the strides that Dean takes before he’s beside you, frowning slightly at the large gash on his forehead. Dean’s eyes rake over your body, and you know something is going on that neither man is telling you.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean’s hand gently cups your cheek, and you know that he’s trying to keep his voice steady. “Help’s comin’ baby, okay? You’re gonna be okay, y’hear me?”

You try to mumble a response, but the words still don’t form. The rain is now nothing more than a sprinkle, clouds shifting to reveal the night sky. Numbness has taken over the rest of your body as Dean keeps his eyes focused on you, assuring you over and over again that you're going to be okay. Off in the distance, you can hear a siren, and Dean squeezes your hand tightly as he tells the man to grab two flares from the trunk.

“Help’s almost here, Y/N.”

“De,” you barely manage to mumble out, “’m tired.”

“I know, baby.” Dean looks relieved at the sound of your voice. “Gotta stay awake, Y/N, please. Y’can’t go to sleep, baby, not until help gets here. Promise me you’ll stay awake.”

“Love you,” you murmur as your eyes close, and every breath becomes more difficult to take.

“Y/N, baby, I need you to open your eyes,” Dean begs as the siren grows closer. “Please, honey, just a coupla minutes. Please Y/N, you have to fight for just a little while longer; lemme see those pretty eyes, baby.”

With all the energy you can muster, you slowly open your eyes, focusing on Dean as he breathes out a sigh of relief. His face is wet; whether it's from the rain or fallen tears, you can’t be sure. Dean offers you a pained smile before leaning forward to press a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Red and blue lights illuminate the sky, and a handful of overlapping voices fill the air. A paramedic replaces Dean, who refuses to leave your side until a firefighter drags him away. Your vision blurs as the new person begins quickly examining you while another puts a brace around your neck. A team of paramedics turns you over, and slides a board under you before lifting you off the hood of the Impala and putting you onto a stretcher. You can barely register what’s happening around you, and you want to cry out as they load you into the ambulance.

The collar around your neck keeps your head facing up, and you try desperately to look for Dean. Your eyes frantically search from side to side before Dean comes into view. He reaches forward, and you feel the familiar calloused hands rubbing against yours. Voices are flying, asking Dean question after question; is she allergic to any medications? Did she lose consciousness? Any prior existing conditions? Blood type?

Your hearing becomes muffled and your vision becomes tunneled as Dean struggles to answer each question.

“She’s seizing!”

A steadily beeping heart monitor awakens you. There’s a tube down your throat and you’ve seen enough Dr. Sexy to know it’s a breathing tube. You cough as you try to breathe and the heart monitor’s beeping becomes more rapid. A nurse is in the room quickly, telling you to keep calm before calling someone else in to help remove the tube. She orders you to cough again and again until the tube is out.

“D’n?” Your throat sore and raspy from the tube being down your throat for who knows how long. “‘Ere’s D’n?”

“He’s gone home, Y/N,” the nurse, Rebecca, tells you calmly. “Visiting hours ended a while ago. We’ll call him as soon as we get you a work-up.”

“S’okay?” You hate that your brain and mouth aren’t working together, and you can only speak in half-formed words. Rebecca nods, smiling as she takes your vitals and calls for an orderly. “How l’ng out?” You struggle to ask, but she seems to understand your question.

“Six months.”

Hours later, you’ve been poked and prodded by too many doctors to keep count of. Words may take a few days, but you’ll get them back, a neurologist assures you, just keep practicing.

By the time they’ve returned you to your room, Dean is there, eyes glistening as Rebecca wheels you in. You want to stand up to meet him, but your limbs, like the rest of your body, don’t want to cooperate with you. Dean crouches down to meet you, the skin on his forehead slightly red from where you remember seeing the gash. He leans forward and presses a kiss on your lips.

“Missed you, sweetheart.”

Dean and an orderly help you back into bed, and he takes a seat in the chair next to you, taking you by the hand and rubbing the back of your palm gently. A team of doctors explains everything to you and Dean—that you’ll have a long road of recovery, you’ll need physical therapy for your limbs, you’ll most likely need a speech pathologist, but with hard work, you’ll be back to your old self in a matter of time.

“You’re very lucky, Y/N,” one of the many doctors says as the others clear out of your room. You let out a scoff, you’ve been in a coma for six months, and you’re lucky?

“Honestly, I’d call it a miracle,” he remarks before leaving, and for a moment, you swear his eyes flash red.

Feedback is appreciated!!

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fluff #saileen #car accident #minor sam x eileen #twist ending #yellow eyed demon #pre-smut #anxiety

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leafity-writes · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I love your compositions! Don't forget to take care of yourself, okay?

May I request for Deuce + past? Thank you! 😆💞

Deuce Spade | Past

Summary: You fell and sprained your ankle, but Deuce was there to help you out.

“Excuse me.”

Deuce opened the door and the smell of antiseptic immediately invaded your nose. The infirmary was empty when you entered with your arms slung over his shoulder. You slowly limped over to one of the beds with his help, finally resting on the soft spring.

An accident that had led you to a sprained ankle and a few scratches and bruises, making you inwardly cursed at your clumsiness that caused this in the first place. Deuce, who happened to be there, was fortunately willing to accompany you to the infirmary. It came as a surprise that he offered to tend your injury too, though you weren’t the one to refuse either.

So now you’re here, watching closely as he circled the bandage around your feet.

“You’re quite skilled at this.” You complimented as his swift hands tied the knot around your ankle—a hand that must’ve practiced this movement countless times. Once finished, he placed your leg gently to the floor and straightened himself.

“It’s not something to be proud of, really.” Deuce proceeded to grab your hand gently and flipped your palm facing upwards as he placed the ointments he previously set on the medical desk. “I used to get into so many fights that I’ve become familiar with treating wounds.”

“That must've been a lot of fights.” You wondered how much of a trouble he was in the past. It was hard to imagine a good-natured person like him would be a delinquent.

“Yeah, it was.” He smiled sheepishly, a hint of regret lingered in his voice as he remembered the past. “That’s why I promised my mom to be a good student here. I’m still struggling with that though...”

“But you’re already a good student, Deuce.” You pointed out.

“What makes you think so?” He stopped to look up at you, confusion visible on his face.

“You’re helping me right now!” You happily answered. “And you’ve helped me and everyone else too, isn't that something you can be proud of as a good student?”

He stared in surprise for a moment before he laughed, shaking his head at your answer. He must’ve been too focused on becoming a good student that he became blinded by his good deeds. Taking your other hand, he continued tending your scratches as he soaked in the praise he received.

“Then I’m glad you think so, thank you.”

Extra:

“A kiss for the injury?” You teased, earning a great view of his face turning bright red at your question. You nudged your hand forward, prompting it closer to him with a grin on your face. Though you could see his face getting redder each second that passed by, he seemed to reluctantly oblige, taking your hand with his shaky ones.

But you should’ve known better than to push his limit.

His face turned uncharacteristically serious and the atmosphere changed in an instant. Deuce leaned in closer, and though you could see the blush covering his face, his bright blue eyes stared determinedly at you. Your hand long forgotten now rested on his chest, while both his hands cupped your cheeks. It took him a while to gather his courage to finally speak, face inches away from yours.

“So a kiss...right?”

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst writing #deuce spade #twst deuce #deuce spade x reader #deuce x reader #deuce #twisted wonderland deuce #Leafity writes

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imomomi · 5 years ago

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AN: I imagine it goes a little something like this....

The moment Kiyoomi agreed to meet Suguru for drinks he had regretted it. The ex-Nohebi captain had a talent for getting him to drink far more than he expected. Every time they hung out, Kiyoomi would end up stumbling home, pink cheeked and slurring his words.

A beer bottle was pushed in front of him as Suguru flipped the sizzling pork-belly. Kiyoomi lowered the mask, thankful that they were situated in a corner booth and far from the students loitering in the middle of the restaurant. The slightly bitter aftertaste rushed in his mouth, chased down by a piece of pork belly so crisp it was almost burnt.

As much as he grumbled about Y/N’s band of misfit cheats, he didn’t mind having a break from the fame that surrounded his life as a pro-player. Suguru was never hesitant to poke fun of him or cut him down for a bad game.

“How’s the new team?” asked Suguru, in between bite of food.

“Atsumu is as much of a pig as he was in high school and Bokuto is just as loud as ever,” answered Kiyoomi. A dark look crossed Suguru’s face at the mention of Fukurōdani’s former ace forcing a laugh out of Kiyoomi.

“You shouldn’t have cheated. You might have gone to Nationals, if you hadn’t. Though, from the way Nohebi played, you wouldn’t have made it very far,” said Kiyoomi.

“Shut up. It’s not like we had a top ace on our team.”

“Which is why you should have practiced more.”

“Yeah, let’s end this right there. Hearing this from a V-1 player is just depressing.”

“I beat you in college, too.”

“You’re an arrogant bastard,” Suguru muttered.

“If you put enough effort and practice regularly and with care, anyone can be good. It’s not so much arrogance as an acknowl-“

“Okay, you need another beer and more food,” Suguru said, cutting him off. He waved down a waitress, ordering far more stuff than either of them would eat. There was an unspoken rule that Kiyoomi would pay. It was payback for the money that Y/N regularly forced Suguru to cough up as compensation for being mean to her.

“I wonder what would have happened if you guys met during our last qualifiers,” Suguru mused. Kiyoomi tilted his head in confusion.

“What?” he asked.

“Your second year. We were your opponents during the Spring Qualifiers.”

“I remember. We won in straight sets.”

“Did you really need to mention that?” Suguru grimaced, inhaling a mouthful of beer, “Y/N was injured, so we played without our manager. But, I’m pretty sure we dodged a bullet not having her there. The first time we lost, she spent an hour making fun of us afterward.”

“How did she get injured? Where? How bad was the injury?” Kiyoomi asked in a rush. Had he been paying more attention; he would have noticed the gleam that entered Suguru’s eye.

“It got hot in the gym and they were renovating the central air, so the floor was slick with sweat. You know how Y/N is, she didn’t bother looking and slipped. Broke her collarbone and was yelling at us about it for a month,” Suguru said. He grinned at the memory. Though there’d been some worrying and tears when it initially happened, the scowl that Y/N wore for weeks after the accident had been an endless source of amusement for everyone on the team.

“Open or closed fracture?” said Kiyoomi sharply. Suguru raised a brow, finger tracing the rim of his bottle.

“Don’t remember to be honest. Just ask her later.”

“What are you doing?” asked Y/N. Her feet were propped on the couch, hands steadily applying a thin layer of pink nail polish to her toes. Kiyoomi’s fingers hooked around the collar of her shirt, pulling it down slightly so he could see the sharp edge of her collar bones. Y/N inched backwards, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Ummm, can you wait until after I finish my nails?”

“I never noticed this scar,” he murmured, eyes glued to the silvery line that cut across the bone. Her brows drew together, teeth scraping her lip, as she considered her answer. Kiyoomi fixated on things at random times, like different players or an illness he’d heard about on the news. Unlike his cleaning habit---something she was endlessly thankful for after years of being told she’d make a bad housewife---his pessimism was endlessly amusing to her. In college, she’d often lied awake by his side as he hunted down videos of opposing teams and found out everything he could about their players.

“It’s almost gone, I’d be surprised if you did,” said Y/N, at last. Kiyoomi leaned back, towering over her with a scowl on his face. His brow wrinkled and she fought the urge to smooth it out.

“How often did you get injured before we met? Were you a clumsy child?”

“Not particularly, but I had trouble sitting still.”

“I thought so,” muttered Kiyoomi. He turned sharply, disappearing down the hall. Y/N watched his back in bewilderment, before turning back to her nails. Whatever it was, he’d tell her later.

She put up with it for three days. Three days of Kiyoomi spotlessly cleaning and drying the floors whenever he was home. Of him ensuring that her shoes are double knotted and tight enough to suffocate her feet whenever she left the house. Of him hovering over her whenever she gets up in the apartment. Once, he’d explicitly told her not to move from the bed when she wanted water and had rushed to kitchen to get it for her. Half of her wanted to laugh, the other half was ready to kill him.

“What happened and why am I being baby-proofed?” asked Y/N, folding her arms over her chest.

“Nothing,” mumbled Kiyoomi. His lips pursed, forming a pout as Y/N leaned over the table and took his hand into hers.

“I’m not stupid, Yoomi. Something’s wrong. What did Suguru tell you?”

“You broke your collarbone,” he said. Y/N fell back into her seat in surprise, before she started to laugh loudly. Kiyoomi’s lips twitched reluctantly, the sound fanning the embers of affection that thrummed through his body.

“You didn’t even know who I was back then and even if we did, you went to a different school?” Y/N said.

“All the more reason, we should be cautious now and prevent any injuries.”

“I don’t play sports. An injury isn’t going to end my career,” said Y/N.

“That shouldn’t prevent you from taking proper care of your health.”

“When have I ever been sick?” she asked in exasperation, “Only once in the five years we’ve known each other. If I get injured, I’ll get better. Worry about me dying when we’re old, okay?”

He nodded and turned the conversation toward Hinata’s latest attempt to push his debut up. Y/N let him, but her mind lingered on his concerns. Kiyoomi might not have been the most affection person in the world, but he cared far more than people realized. He did everything with care as if it would break in his hands if he handled it too roughly.

Later that night, they’re resting in bed. Kiyoomi was warm and bright beside her, lips tracing the scar at her collarbone. Teeth nipping at the skin.

“I hope I die before you,” he whispered.

“Don’t say stuff like that,” Y/N said sharply.

“Hmm,” he rose up on his elbow, and rested his head in the palm of his hands. His fingers traced an invisible pattern on her ribcage. “It’s true. It’d be easier not to worry, if I’m dead.”

“You’re so annoying. If you’re lucky, I’ll kill you in your sleep,” she promised

“Wait a couple years, will you? I’d like to make it to the Olympics first.”

Y/N let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head at his absurdity. She wondered briefly what he’s be like if they decided to have children. Overprotective to a fault, but unfailingly awkward when it came to voicing his affection. Blunt as baseball bat when it came to pointing out someone’s mistakes. She rested her hand over his squeezing all her fondness of him into the touch.

#Sakusa x reader #Sakusa reader #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #Sakusa kiyoomi x reader

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ichigo-daifuku · 4 years ago

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Alone Together

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Pairing: Hawks/Todoroki Fuyumi Genre: Time Travel, Romance, Fluff, Angst, Suggestive Themes

Synopsis: A Quirk accident prompts Fuyumi to travel back in time in various intervals, where she does her best to keep a low profile so as not to alter the future timeline.

Except Keigo catches feelings for her a year earlier than scheduled.

1 | ☆ Chapter One: A Fine Mess Word Count: 5.2k

恋の予感 | こいのよかん | koi no yokan

premonition of love; the sense one can have upon first meeting another person that the two of them will inevitably fall in love.

At five in the morning, Hawks stirred in his sleep and shivered.

The air was frigid. He concluded the heater must have ceased functioning sometime in the middle of the night. If it didn’t, how else could he explain how frosty the temperature in his room was? He took a deep breath and exhaled through his mouth, rubbing a palm over his abdomen. It felt as if he was sleeping beside a block of ice. Groggily, he huddled further under his blanket and tried to fall back into slumber.

Five more minutes, he thought, and then, this early bird will catch the worm… no, the villains.

A shift on his bed followed by a yawn drew his attention. He froze. Eyes shut but conscious and alert, he spread out a number of his feathers and confirmed it: an intruder was on his bed.

Hawks opened his eyes and found a sight that made them go as wide as saucers. A scantily clad woman was curled up next to him, comfortably sleeping as if she was on her own bed. She mumbled something incoherently and embraced his torso, her hold loose but enough for him to feel the outline and curves of her body. A puff of breath from her parted lips tickled his bare chest. Her skin was as cold as ice, and for a second, he wondered if she was feeling unwell—until he came to his senses. He recounted the events of the previous night in search of any factor that could’ve led to this situation.

Hawks had gone through the daily grind of flying around and catching villains. It had been a busier day than usual. Exhausted after his final patrol, he opted to order take-out at a fast-food restaurant on his way home instead of dining in. He ate his dinner, freshened up, put a random pair of sweatpants on, and went to sleep. He failed to recall encountering her last night, and he was certain she wasn’t here when he plopped down on his bed.

Hawks had never met this woman before.

However, from what he was seeing, he slept beside this woman. He didn’t sleep with her, right? There was no way such a thing would slip his mind.

Was he going insane? Was he having his annual spring rut? Was he so sexually frustrated that he was having a realistic hallucination of a very attractive woman sleeping next to him?

“Good morning,” said a feminine voice, still husky from the early hour, near his ear.

Despite the silent questions he raised, the softness of the lips pressing on his cheek was real.

Very much so.

Languidly, the woman sat up, stretched her arms above her head, and let out a contented hum. She stepped out of the bed and left the room while combing her fingers through her snow-white hair, unperturbed.

Hawks, who was still dubious of the situation, left the bed and slipped on the first t-shirt he could lay his feathers on. He went after the woman and found her in the kitchen, browsing through the contents of the refrigerator with a frown.

She cocked her head to the side and scrunched her eyebrows. “Didn’t we go grocery shopping yesterday? Why is everything gone? Don’t tell me you got hungry in the middle of the night and ate it all.”

The two of them went grocery shopping? Yesterday?

Without waiting for his response, the woman grabbed two eggs from the shelf and closed the refrigerator. She set them aside and bent down to get a frying pan from the cabinet.

Hawks wondered how she knew where he kept his cookware, but before he could dwell on the thought, he found out it wasn’t all that she was cognizant of.

The woman knew how to operate the rice cooker and coffee maker easily and prepared breakfast with such familiarity that if he didn’t know better, he’d say it was her kitchen and not his.

All the while, he stood at the entrance, wary and ready to defend himself when she decided to strike—except she did nothing of the sort.

“By the way, have you seen my eyeglasses?” she asked, setting the plate of fried eggs on the table. “It wasn’t on the nightstand. I forgot where I put them.”

“Who are you?” Hawks finally uttered the question he was dying to find the answer to. He took a tentative step forward as a predator would when it stalked its prey. “How did you get in my place?”

She glanced at him but paid his threatening action no mind, filling two mugs with coffee. “Huh?”

“It’s a serious question, Miss,” he stated, his expression grave and stern. “Who are you?”

Silver eyes met his golden ones. For some inexplicable reason, he was taken aback, but before he could mull over the peculiar impression he sensed, the question that left her lips had alarm bells ringing in his head.

“What are you talking about, Keigo?”

Keigo.

She called him Keigo.

He launched one of his longer feathers to his palm and aligned it toward her neck as one would with a sword. The tip of the feather brushed a strand of her hair, from which he spotted distinctive crimson streaks from. It was a unique feature that would help confirm her identity if she refused to speak. “Are you a spy? Who sent you?”

Panicked, she shook her head and waved her hands in front of her in denial. “I’m not a spy! No one sent me!”

“How did you know that name?”

“Which name?”

“Stop pretending you don’t know what’s going on,” he snapped, glaring at her. “My real name. How did you know it?”

“You told me.”

His birth name was classified information. From the day he was instructed to live as Hawks, he had buried his past and told no one his real name. Nobody—save for his estranged parents, the Hero Public Safety Commission, and himself—should have been aware of it. Not even his sidekicks, nor his fans, and definitely not the woman standing in front of him. “You’re lying.”

“Keigo, are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?” The menacing stance he had did nothing to deter her. She stepped forward and touched his head in search of any injuries. When she found none, she retreated and put her hands behind her back. “If I remember correctly, we’ve been on a first-name basis since we met. Well, kind of.”

Why would he reveal his real name to someone he just met? He would never do that.

Was this woman a delusional fangirl of his? He had encountered a few cases of those, but none of them had gone as far as this woman. She wasn’t from around here, he noticed, as she wasn’t speaking in Hakata-ben. Regardless, this was a penthouse of an exclusive condominium in Kyushu. How was she able to get past the security?

“We’ve never met. I don’t know who you are,” he stated without room for argument. “Now, tell me how you got in, and I’ll turn you in to the police myself.”

She stared at his face quietly, deep in thought. After a long pause, an epiphany struck her, and she spoke in a hesitant tone, expecting the worst, “Sorry, but… could you, perhaps, tell me what year it is?”

“That’s an odd question, Miss. What year do you think it is?”

The response she gave him left him disconcerted. With an uncertain voice, she told him today's month and day correctly, but she added three years to the current year.

When he revealed she was wrong, she backed away and buried her face in her hands.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry!” she cried out with an apologetic bow, on the verge of bursting into tears. “We haven’t met yet, haven’t we? This must be so strange to you.”

“We’ve never met.”

“Yeah, not yet.” She paced back and forth and turned to him. “Do you mind if I look around for a bit? I just want to confirm it.”

He didn’t rule out the possibility she was unhinged, but he wanted to know what her deal was before handing her over to the authorities. Humoring her, he let go and returned his large feather to his wings, relenting. “Fine.”

In case she had any funny business up her sleeve, he followed her. A few of his feathers hovered around her as a safety precaution, too. Yet as he observed her, he had to ask himself: how come she was able to roam around his place like she owned it?

Similar to the way she acted in the kitchen, she barged inside his walk-in closet effortlessly. Stumbling upon rows and rows of men’s clothing, she mumbled, “My clothes…”

She peeked inside the bathroom and found a lone toothbrush on the sink and men’s products everywhere. “My toiletries…”

In front of an empty space in the living room, she stared and murmured, “My books…”

“None of my belongings are here.” She shook her head with a sigh, momentarily forgetting she had company as she glanced at the calendar on the wall. “I really am in the past.”

Keigo placed a hand on her shoulder, rousing her from her reverie. “Care to explain?”

The sound of her stomach grumbling interrupted her before she could speak. She covered her midriff in embarrassment, the skimpy nightgown she had on drawing his attention again. “Sorry.”

Keigo sighed. From a logical point of view, the current evidence indicated this woman as a threat. However, his feathers tingled in a different way than they would when they sensed danger was in the midst. He had gathered from her whispers that she believed she was from the future. Something strange was going on, and he would get to the bottom of it.

With a few small feathers, he grabbed a hoodie from his closet and offered it to her. “You can wear this.”

“Oh, thank you.” She slipped the hoodie on and awkwardly continued, “It’s cold, isn’t it? Not that I’m bothered or anything, though. I actually don’t mind the cold much, don’t worry! Haha…”

That’s not it, he thought but didn’t bother saying aloud. She already cooked breakfast, might as well let her eat it.

“You can enlighten me of the situation while you eat,” Keigo decided, leading her to the dining area. He pulled a chair out and instructed, “Sit down.”

She followed him wordlessly and watched as he set the table, brought the cooked rice, and sat in front of her. Upon noticing he wasn’t making any move to grab a serving, she spoke, “Aren’t you going to eat? I didn’t put anything weird in there, I promise.”

Keigo had witnessed her prepare them earlier. He didn’t see or smell anything weird in the food either.

She sensed his reluctance and lifted the chopsticks between her fingers. As proof of her innocence, she took a bite of the fried egg and swallowed. “See? It’s fine.”

Keigo acquiesced, putting a portion of rice and egg in his bowl.

“Thank you for the food,” they said in unison.

He took a much-needed sip of coffee and began with his inquiry, “Think you can tell me what’s up now, Miss?”

“Yesterday afternoon, a young girl’s Quirk went out of control and hit me. Nothing happened, but my companion and I went to the hospital to be sure. The doctors said it was a mutation type of Quirk, but they couldn’t confirm anything since the girl’s exact power was unknown.”

That companion was supposedly him. “And then?”

“Since nothing was wrong with me, they sent us home. We went to this penthouse, ate dinner, and slept. But when I woke up, I’m… here. In the past,” she told him. “One of the doctors did advise us to wait for twenty-four hours, so maybe, that’s my time limit.”

“You’re sure this is the past? Not an alternate universe?”

“I think so.”

“How are you going to come back to your own time?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth? Why should I believe you?”

“I…” Contemplative, she paused before offering a suggestion. “I’d like to wait for twenty-four hours, at least.”

“And if nothing happens?”

“I’ll turn myself in to the authorities if you’ll insist, but I hope you’ll at least let me call someone for help.”

“Let me guess. A colleague? Perhaps, a fellow villain?”

“No, I’m not a villain. My—” she broke off mid-sentence again, carefully choosing her words, “—a family member would know what to do, I think.”

“How suspicious.”

“Look, I know twenty-four hours is a lot to ask, especially from the Number T...hree Hero, but I’m also confused right now. If I’m being honest, I’d like to go back to where I came from right at this moment,” she confessed. “I hope you can bear with me for a while. It will really help me. Please.”

Keigo felt the accusation he was about to utter stuck in his throat. Sincerity and anxiety radiated from her words. His instincts told him it was an honest appeal for his assistance. While he was still unsure, he was a Hero, and the woman in front of him, a suspected villain or not, was asking him for help. He couldn’t ignore it.

He grabbed his phone with a stray feather and dialed his secretary’s number. “Hello, good morning. It’s Hawks. I won’t be coming in today. It’s an emergency situation, and I’ll be on surveillance duty.”

“Roger, Sir. I’ll let your sidekicks know.”

“By the way, don’t ask why, but can you send a set of women’s clothes to my place? Toiletries, as well. Thanks! Bye-bye!”

“Thank you,” the woman told him as he ended the call. This time, she was unable to hold back her tears, and she wiped them immediately with the sleeve of his hoodie. “Thank you so much. I’m really sorry for the inconvenience, Keigo—I mean, Hawks!”

Silence reigned during the rest of the breakfast. It wasn’t the awkward nor the comfortable type. She was engrossed in her thoughts while he was on high alert. After they finished eating, she volunteered to do the dishes, and he allowed her to, knowing she needed a moment alone to collect herself. He stayed at a considerable distance in the living room instead, aware she finished the task without any issues.

Keigo looked up from the YAP! News article on his phone and observed as the woman plopped down on the other side of the sofa and grabbed the remote control on the coffee table.

As if she felt his sharp gaze on her, she turned her face to his direction, and realization dawned on her.

“Whoops, sorry! I just…” she blurted out, embarrassed at the faux pas she committed. “Nevermind. Do you mind if I watch TV?”

“It’s fine.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, redirecting her eyes to the television. She flipped the channels to find something appealing to watch and came upon an animated magical girl franchise. “Oh, PreCure!”

“I see,” he noted, caught off guard she chose that show over the morning news on one channel and a rerun of a documentary about the most recent Hero Billboard Chart JP on another. “You’re into these kinds of shows?”

“I happen to know a lot of kids. They love this show,” she replied, heat creeping up her cheeks. “Besides, there’s no such thing as being too old to watch anime.”

“Yeah.” An amused smile crept upon his lips. “You’re right about that, Miss.”

She would squint her eyes from time to time throughout the episode. In addition, since she had been looking for her eyeglasses earlier, he deduced she had poor eyesight. Keigo thought she might get a headache later on if she continued watching television like that. That would be bad, wouldn’t it?

It turned out, he had no need to fret about such a thing from happening. A couple of hours later, she ended up dozing off. He stood, turned the television’s volume down, and fixed her position in a way she could lay down and sleep properly.

How could she let her guard down like that? he asked himself, covering her with a blanket. She seems fatigued, though.

Unable to figure her out, he took a seat on the solo sofa and let her be, still on surveillance duty.

While she didn’t mention anything about being unwell, she was exhausted—that much was obvious. It was only at lunchtime when she awoke from her nap, the sound of the doorbell serving as her alarm clock. Behind the door, the pizza delivery man stood with Keigo’s order in his hands. Keigo settled the payment and brought the box to the living room. He set the box on the table and untied the string on top of it.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I’m okay.”

“Are you feeling sick or anything?”

“No, just tired.” She shut her eyes and massaged her fingers over her temple. “It must be a side effect of the girl’s Quirk. I’m not usually like this.”

He didn’t know this woman, but he knew how being sick without medicine felt: miserable. “Tell me if you need anything. I’ll get it.”

Her eyes fluttered open drowsily. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not that bad. I’ll be fine.”

“Do you want to freshen up after you eat?” He handed her a sealed paper bag through a feather on its handle. “The clothing and toiletries I asked for earlier arrived while you were sleeping.”

“I will.” She waited for him to release the paper bag with her palms wide open. When he did, she caught it and put it on her lap. “Thanks.”

Keigo decided to take his turn in using the bathroom after she did.

As soon as he stepped inside and shut the door, he was surrounded by her presence. Droplets of water trickled from the tiled walls to the floor. The delicate scent of floral shampoo and the fragrance of milk and honey body wash clung in the air; soft and sweet. No part of his house had smelled like that before. Another crack made its way through his composure. He was unused to having people over at his place. No, scratch that, he never had people over. Given who he was, he had a lot to protect, and to accomplish that, he must keep his secrets. It was a dangerous line she crossed easily. He found the experience daunting.

As quickly as he could, he finished showering, got dressed, and returned to the living room, where he was able to sense her presence.

She sat in the same area she occupied earlier, flipping through a random magazine she found on the coffee table. The cream-colored turtleneck shirt and acid wash jeans she was wearing clung to her body in all the right places. Upon seeing him, she looked up from the pages and shut the magazine. “Hawks?”

“Y-Yes?” He cleared his throat. “What is it?”

“You’re twenty-two years old at the moment, right?”

“Yeah.”

She chuckled good-naturedly. “I’m still older than you.”

“Is that so?” he asked, unsure of how to respond to her statement. “Are you also older than me where you came from?”

“That’s right.” She returned the magazine to the table and stood. “By the way, do you mind if I wash my clothes?”

“Go ahead.”

“Thank you.”

She gave him a smile and left.

Dumbfounded by their bizarre exchange, Keigo stared at her retreating form and frowned.

She didn’t even ask him where the washing machine was.

The woman stood by the glass walls, the pad of her fingertips touching the surface as she stared at the carmine and amber hues of the setting sun.

Keigo made his way next to her and observed the view closely. The scenery was breathtaking from this altitude. He couldn’t blame her for being enamored by it. It was one of the reasons he picked this penthouse. The sky was fascinating, no matter the weather or the time of the day it was.

“Are you curious?” she asked out of the blue, her gaze still on the horizon.

“About what?”

“The future.”

“Well, I don’t really know if you’re from the future or not,” he admitted, an absurd idea popping inside his mind. “How about you tell me something that will happen a week or so from now?”

“Like a major event?”

“Something like that,” he said, although he speculated a definite answer from her would be unlikely. “Anything will do.”

“Okay, that would be an effective way to check.” The woman nodded. “If what I’m about to tell you happens, will you believe me, then?”

“It depends.” He turned to look at her. Her casual agreement caught him by mild surprise, his curiosity multiplying as the seconds ticked by. “But let’s say you do disappear and come back to wherever you came from after twenty-four hours. At that point, it wouldn’t matter, wouldn’t it?”

“It would. At least, to me, it would,” she stated, meeting his gaze. “I’ve got nothing to lose by telling you, but you have to promise not to meddle. If this is the past, the future timeline shouldn’t be altered.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed with a lighthearted laugh. “Sounds like a plot of a movie.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” She gave him a smile and fiddled with her fingers. The shift in the mood was palpable as she began, “A few days after the term at U.A. High School begins, a class will be attacked by a group of villains.”

“U.A.’s security system is top-notch, though,” he pointed out, not bothering to conceal his doubt. “I don’t see anything like that happening.”

“Everyone thought so, too.” Amused, she added, “Knowing you, by now, you’re already aware that All Might is going to be a teacher at U.A., aren’t you?”

“How did you—”

“I just do, okay?” She clasped her hands behind her back and leaned in. “Remember, you promised not to meddle.”

“Fine,” he agreed. “But if it does happen, who knows? You might have known of it because you’re a member of that ‘group of villains’ yourself.”

“I’m not! I’m not a member of that group of villains.” A chuckle fell past her lips, one tinged with amusement and melancholy. “That’s… not me.”

She returned her gaze to the scenery of Kyushu, and it gave Keigo a good view of her shoulder-length hair. The crimson streaks in it stood out against its dominant white color. When he thought about it, he couldn’t help but compare it to the color of his feathers. They were so alike that a smaller feather of his would blend in with them perfectly. He chided himself for thinking that way.

And so, instead, Keigo debated whether the crimson streaks in her hair were natural or otherwise.

The late-night news was on in the background as the two of them partook in their share of fast-food chicken meals. It was from the same restaurant Keigo visited last night except, this time, he ordered them online and waited for them to arrive after twenty minutes.

“I wish you didn’t have to have meals delivered all the time,” the woman lamented and took a sip of soda. “Eat healthier when you can, okay?”

“Aww, are you concerned about me?” he asked half-jokingly, setting the empty cardboard packaging aside.

“Of course.”

Keigo was quiet at that, once again blindsided by her candidness. He had only met this woman today, yet she cared enough about him to trouble herself about his diet.

“Hawks,” she spoke, her voice gentle and hesitant, but of what, he didn’t know. “Are you doing okay right now?”

“Just peachy,” he answered promptly like he always did, pushing those strange thoughts aside. “Why would you ask me that?”

A long pause passed before she opened her mouth to respond. “You told me there were times you thought of the HPSC as a birdcage—sometimes, a shackle. Even if I know better, meeting you in this time of your life worries me.”

By then, the sound coming from the television was nothing but white noise. Everything she uttered was the truth. Those were sentiments he had hidden deep inside him and swore to keep to himself. This woman knew about them, though—she knew him well. He found no rational explanation for the way she was aware of specific matters he dared not to speak about. How else would she know them if he didn’t tell her? Maybe, not now, but in the future.

At that point, he started to truly believe her. One thing, however, kept creeping inside his mind once he came to terms with it. He stared at her intently, trying to unravel the mystery that came in the form of this woman. “Who are you in my life?”

“Uh, I am…” She averted her gaze, a blush forming on her cheeks. “That would be a spoiler, wouldn’t it?”

“I want to know.” Keigo was a sharp man. He already had an inkling of who she would be for him in the future, but he wanted the confirmation to come from her lips. “Tell me.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but the sound of a bell, similar to that of a cat’s, rang three times, diverting their attention.

The next thing he knew, the woman in front of him had vanished into thin air.

Keigo searched the entire penthouse but found her nowhere. He considered the possibility she had been a figment of his imagination, but he ultimately believed she wasn’t.

The cardboard container of her meal remained on the coffee table, in front of the seat she took earlier. The wooden chopsticks laid on top of a folded sheet of tissue paper, their tips dampened and darkened by the savory sauce of the chicken she ate and said was delicious. Inside his bathroom, the toiletries she used were arranged neatly on the corner of the sink.

The white cotton nightdress, as well as the hoodie she borrowed, hung on the metal clothing rack in the washing area, fresh with the detergent he liked best. A matching pair of underwear with a dainty ribbon—lingerie, to be specific—dangled beside them, mocking him for having thoughts he shouldn’t have had. He laughed them off as best as he could but didn’t know what to do with them. In the end, he decided to put them inside the unused drawer in his walk-in closet.

She might have disappeared, but she didn’t do it without a trace.

He checked his wristwatch and saw it was past midnight. If her assumptions and calculations were correct, it meant she had arrived on his bed last night around this time. He wondered if she made it to the future safely.

He hoped so.

Hawks kept his feathers vigilant for any clues regarding the supposed surprise attack at U.A. High School. The mysterious woman would appear in his mind frequently because of the information she had given him concerning the near future. It piqued his interest because he found nothing about it. He couldn’t meddle at all even if he knew, which he could imagine, for her, was a good thing.

To his credit, he got the wind of the news before the press did. Class 1-A was attacked by a group called the League of Villains during an on-campus activity in the Unforeseen Simulation Joint training facility. People dubbed it as the U.S.J. Incident. The League of Villains aimed to put an end to All Might but failed in the end. Their leader, however, had gotten away. Hawks couldn’t help but consider what kind of trouble they would stir up in the future. He had to investigate further.

On the flip side, it further proved that the woman he encountered in his home was telling the truth. She was from the future. He opened the door to his penthouse and made his way to his bedroom, remembering her again. In retrospect, they had gotten themselves into quite a mess during the day she appeared.

Not that he’d see her anytime soon, or so he thought.

It was a faint sound, but nevertheless, a familiar one. An invisible bell rang three times, and a feminine voice spoke beside him, causing him to stop in his tracks in wonder.

“Do you believe me now?” the woman asked, her head tilting to the side. Her doe eyes, framed with eyeglasses this time, twinkled with hopefulness.

“You’re here,” he blurted out, “again.”

“Yeah.” She leaned backward and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I have twenty-three hours this time.”

“One hour less than last time,” he pointed out. “But how did you know?”

“We had time to visit the doctor again. The young girl has a Quirk that sends people back in time. Time Quirks are rare, so existing studies about them are insufficient to undo the whole thing. I can’t elaborate too much on the details, but there’s nothing I can do but go through the whole time travel duration. After this, there will be twenty-two more instances when I will appear somewhere near you at a random moment, each time lessened by an hour.”

“For how long?”

“A year, more or less.”

“But out of all the places you could appear in, why does it happen where I am?” he asked, meticulously processing the information she had given him. “Not that I’m complaining or anything. I’m just curious.”

“I…” she paused, contemplating whether or not to tell him, “because you were the one closest to me when I was struck by the girl’s Quirk.”

“How close?”

“We were standing next to each other.”

“And?”

“We were… holding each other’s hand.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “So, we really do have that kind of relationship, huh?”

She rolled her eyes and averted her gaze, folding her arms in front of her chest. “I’m not going to answer that.”

Despite her dismissal, the pink tinge of her cheeks betrayed her composure. It was all the answer he needed to his question.

They were together. Three years in the future, the two of them were in a relationship. How did such a thing happen?

Time would tell. For now, a cordial smile tugged at his lips, knowing exactly where to begin. “What’s your name?”

“If I tell you,” she said hesitantly, “will you promise not to look for me?”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to change the present—I mean, my present—where I’m from. The future, if you will, in your case.”

“Okay, then.” Keigo nodded. It was a reasonable condition, after all. “I promise.”

“Great.” She grinned, relieved he gave her his word. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is Fuyumi.”

Notes: The three-year difference in their timelines and the sound of a bell ringing was inspired by Kimi no Na wa, one of my favorite movies.

I was actually working on a fic for another ship, but I thought of Huwumi again and ended up writing this instead.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for reading! ❄️

Alone Together

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harrysweasleys · 5 years ago

Text

Fight Your Battles

Summary: Draco Malfoy is sick of watching Y/N deal with Pansy’s verbal assault.

Warnings: language, bullying

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: sorry this took so long! I’m starting work up again and so I’ve been busy but here it is! also gif is from google so credit to the owner :)

—

As Potions class drew to an end, Y/N let out a relieved sigh. Snape had given her a perfect score on her potion which she had quite proudly completed by herself. Her usual partner, a Hufflepuff by the name of Jordie, hadn’t shown up to class so the fact that she had successfully completed it by herself had been quite the accomplishment.

“Thank you, professor,” she grinned at him as he stalked off, cape flowing behind him.

“Such a suck up,” a voice snarled from the back of the class.

Pansy Parkinson, who was paired up Vincent Crabbe, has always had a strong distaste towards Y/N. From the moment they first met on the train to Hogwarts, Y/N knew Pansy was going to be someone she’d want to avoid.

Despite being in fourth year, Y/N hadn’t made an overwhelming amount of friends here either, so Pansy’s taunting felt even worse. But there was no way she was going to let her know that.

She excused herself, handed in her written assignment, and made her way out of the class, ignoring Pansy calling her names as she made her way out of the door and into the looming dungeon hallway.

At the end of the hall, she noticed a platinum blond figure leaning up against a pillar, arms crossed and a deep scowl etched on his face.

“Terrorizing first years now, are you?” she approached him with a grin, “You should know better by now, Draco.”

Draco Malfoy was amongst one of the only friends she really had. She was just as surprised as anyone, she had hated his guts in their first year. But, after being paired up in Divination and reading each other’s palms in third year, the two became somewhat close, and that bond only grew throughout the year.

“I wouldn’t call it terrorizing as much as showing them who not to mess with,” he replied cooly.

“Ah, yes, and that would be you, I assume?” a smirk played on her lips as she leaned against the wall next to him. He was a few inches taller than her, and she used it to her advantage, leaning her head lightly against his shoulder.

“Well of course,” he grinned at her, adjusting his body so he could turn to face her, “Did you give Snape the assignment for me?”

She nodded. Draco had managed to convince Snape to give him the lesson off after suffering a bludger accident in the last Quidditch match. Yes, Madam Pomfrey had fixed him up in a heartbeat. And yes, Draco was being dramatic and making the injury last way longer than it actually had.

“Course I did. You still have to do the next homework assignment, though. Your fingers are healed so don’t even try to complain,” she held her finger up against her lip to shush him, but she didn’t need to as his reply was cut off by Pansy making herself known.

“Well, Y/N, you surely made an impression in that class,” Pansy spoke lowly, arms crossed against her chest.

“Thanks?” Y/N replied, not sure how to take what she had just said.

But Pansy’s eyes drifted to Draco, a look of awestruck admiration falling over her stern face, “Draco, would you like to accompany me to lunch? I’d make a better person to talk to then... well, her.”

Draco looked between Pansy, who wore a look of pure confidence, and Y/N, who slunk back with her shoulders slouched, her previous smile wiped away.

“Why are you even debating this? It’s an easy answer,” Pansy smirked, holding out her hand for Draco to take as if she were some sort of royal, “What would your father say if he saw you associating with someone like her anyways? Dirty, blood traitor.”

“Shut up,” Draco found his voice, his shoulders broader than before as he stepped between Y/N and Pansy, “You have no right to go around talking to people like that.”

Y/N’s quiet voice caught Draco’s attention, “Draco, it’s fine. You two have a nice lunch. I’m just going to go... I have to meet Stella in the library.”

Yes, Stella was a real person — one of her only friends — but she wasn’t waiting for her in the library. Y/N had just found the quickest escape excuse.

“Y/N, wait—,” she heard Draco shouting her name but she rushed out of sight before he could catch up with her. She knew he’d much rather be with Parkinson anyways. She was his family friend, his parents adored her, and she was exactly what a Slytherin girl should be. Strong, ruthless, cunning, sneaky. Whereas on the other hand, Y/N was quiet, soft spoken, timid, and used her brains instead of her wits and strength. She often wondered why the hat placed her in Slytherin in the first place. It was still an unsolved mystery.

As she reached the library, she turned down the long aisle and reached a secluded table next to a window where she couldn’t hear nor see anyone. She sat here for a decent amount of time, enjoying the view of the Hogwarts grounds bathing in spring sunlight and all the students outside enjoying their breaks. She was awfully tempted to go outdoors and enjoy it as well, but she resisted the urges and sat peacefully in the library, giggling every time a student was told to be quiet.

——

After dinner, the Slytherin common room was Y/N’s favourite place to be. The cracking flames warmed her body and the sleek green velvet couch was calling her name as she sat, chatting absentmindedly with Stella.

“You should have seen Macmillans’s face! Once again, I left him speechless,” Stella threw her head back in laughter as she told the story of how she was caught once again by the Hufflepuff prefect lurking a corridor she shouldn’t have been in.

“That’s the eight time this week he’s caught you,” Y/N chuckled, “You sure you’re not doing this on purpose to catch his attention? It always seems to be him.”

Stella’s wars went pink, “What? Me? Ernie? Are you out of your socks, woman?”

Y/N smirked, leaning back and letting the flames warm her toes through her thick wool socks, “Am I? It seems fishy to me, Stel. But who am I to say anything? I’m only your best friend.”

Stella furrowed her eyebrows, “He’s a Hufflepuff, Y/N. They’re too soft for me anyways. Besides, isn’t he seeing that Ravenclaw girl?”

Y/N detected a hint of sadness in her friend’s voice before replying, “How would I know? You’re better than her anyways. Go after him. Chase him down and you two can cause all the trouble in the world together.”

Stella’s grin faltered as she looked behind Y/N, “Oh, lord. Don’t look now but the woman of many words just entered.”

Y/N chuckled, “The woman of many words? Is that what you’re calling her now? What happened to just plain old snobby bitch— oh, hi Pansy.”

Pansy was standing behind Y/N, arms crossed and the permanent scowl still on her face. She seemed somewhat even more menacing with the dull fire cascading flickering shadows over her scrunched up face.

“Oh, hi! Almost didn’t notice you there, but the smell of your impure blood wafted into my face from across the room,” she made a grimace as if smelling something horrendous. The girl next to Pansy giggled at the comment.

“You sure that wasn’t just the smell of you?” Y/N muttered, “You do smell pretty awful. Ever heard of a shower?”

Pansy’s smirk was wiped off her face and her eyes glared down at Y/N, a fiery anger burning within them as she was prepared to snap.

“How dare you,” she growled and started reaching for her wand, but was cut off by a shout of her name from across the room. Draco Malfoy came rushing down the stone stairs from the dormitories, arms crossed against his silk robe and glaring daggers at the dark haired girl standing over Y/N.

“Parkinson, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked cooly, his voice much calmer than what his body language was giving off. He was tense pretty much every hour of the day, but Y/N had never seen him like this.

“Nothing!” she smiled sweetly, taking her hand away from her wand and placing it on her hip casually as if she had never threatened anyone, “Just having a nice chat with my pal here, right Y/N?”

Y/N scoffed, looking between Draco and Pansy, “The day I call you a ‘pal’ is gonna be the day Snape hugs Potter.”

Stella chuckled next to her, but Pansy’s glare didn’t dissipate. Draco walked over to her, towering and looking furious, but Y/N stood up and walked over to him, cutting him short from what he was about to say.

“It’s ok, I’m off to bed anyways,” she said quietly, bidding him a goodnight. She was sick and tired of dealing with Pansy Parkinson and her stupid superiority. Yes, she had the courage to talk back to her, but she had never once actually stood up for herself. She knew the drama that came with public arguments like that and just didn’t feel like dealing with it. So she just didn’t.

“No, hold up,” Draco places his hand gently to her wrist and brought her closer to him, turning his attention back to Pansy once more, “Listen to me and listen well, Parkinson. I am sick and tired of the way you think you’re better than everyone else. And that’s coming from me.”

Y/N sat there quietly, letting him speak. She knew that Draco had often been a witness to Pansy’s verbal abuse, but she had never actually seen him stand up for her.

“Now, I’ve sat back quietly because your family and my family are tightly knit and my father would be furious if he knew I was telling off the Parkinson’s daughter, but I am not going to sit back any longer while you talk down to Y/N, who by the way, is a million times better than the person you’ll ever be.”

Y/N stared at him, speechless. Draco was breathing rather quickly, his chest rapidly moving up and down and his body heat noticeable. She had never been stood up for like this before. Continuing to ignore the stares from then students across the common room, who had all stopped whatever they were doing to watch the encounter go down, she focused all her attention on Draco and gave him a gentle smile.

“You’re not seriously siding with her, are you?” All the smugness on Pansy’s face was gone. Her cheeks had turned a light pink and the fury in her eyes had grown exponentially once she had been told off by Draco.

“I am. And I’m not ashamed of it.” Draco wrapped his arm around Y/N, “She’s my best friend. Someone I care about.” Stella pretended to be offended at Draco calling Y/N his best friend, but she knew about the strong bond that had formed between the two and didn’t say a word.

Draco turned to face Y/N, who was still sitting there, speechless, “I’m sorry I didn’t stick up for you earlier. It was pretty foolish of me, but I’m here for you. Always will be.”

“Oh— it’s — it’s fine, I should have stood up for myself. I can’t have you fight my battles for me,” Y/N muttered so only Draco could hear her. She learned into his touch and he let out a sigh, pulling her into a hug. She let him wrap his arms tightly around her waist as her head fell to his shoulder, his body enclosing around her like a protective shield. She was lucky enough to see this side of him, the caring, gentle side that he was too proud to show anyone other than her.

“You don’t have to fight your battles alone, though,” he whispered into her ear, ignoring Pansy’s strangled cry as she rushed out of the room cussing everyone in sight out of humiliation.

“I guess not,” Y/N grinned, pulling away, “Thanks, Draco.”

As she stared up at him, his face much softer now that he was looking at her instead, it was as if she was seeing him in a totally different light. He had stood up for her, not ashamed at all of the way he admitted how much he cared.

As he smiled, she felt herself feeling truly comfortable. And for once, maybe things would start to get better.

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