#but while i was there i walked past the clinical practice lab

[sapphic-schizo]

finally back home in my cozy bed -_-

[ajgrey9647]

Frantically checking them over for injuries after a traumatic event+ Matt Cook & Billy Cranston (any timeline ^^)

An Outsider Hiding Within

“No way, kid. It’s not going to happen…” 

Turning from the blinking console, Grace Sterling firmly crossed her arms over the white lab coat she typically wore when deeply embedded in one of her many ‘projects’. She claimed the garment helped to center her mind and to focus on the task at hand. Her face was stern, dismissive of any argument.

“Grace, please! I can help them! You can’t just…” Matt pleaded again, hating how he sounded like a small child. 

“Yes, Matthew, I can,” she interrupted, her tone icy and clinical. “The Green Dragon powers are still in flux until I can get them stabilized and there isn’t time. Lord Drakkon and his Sentries are vicious! You have no idea what that ‘Ranger’ is capable of, but I do!”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Grace briefly closed her eyes, not wanting to recall the many conversations she’d had with the monster when he was chained in the bowels of Promethea. She’d had nightmares from what Drakkon had gleefully shared with her, hellish, brutal punishments and executions. He’d spared no detail, his eyes almost glowing with remembered pleasure.

It was almost sexual.

The older woman shook her head, trying to clear away the disturbing image. 

“Lord Drakkon is a sadist. I’m not going to get into the depraved things he said while we had him contained. Just trust me when I say there are worse things than death…”

“So, you’re just going to risk Billy and the others dying at the hands of this demon?” Matt yelled incredulously. “From what I heard, they were lucky the first fucking time!”

Lifting a brow at the teen’s language, Grace clucked her tongue.

“The Rangers have experience with Drakkon, experience you don’t have. You are still learning how to fight and, when your powers are working, how to utilize the Green Dragon energy. This isn’t a video game, Mr. Cook! There is no practice run, no extra lives, no going back.”

Running his hands through his thick brown hair, Matt grit his teeth before giving in with a scream of frustration. The sudden grip of a hand on his shoulder caused him to whirl around, his face twisted in anger.

Immediately, he found himself gazing into Billy’s crystalline blue eyes behind his wire frame glasses. The tightness gripping his chest eased, replaced by the tickle of butterflies fluttering about his guts. Hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt, Matt took a deep breath.

“Billy!”

“Grace is right, Matt. This isn’t the time for you to make introductions with the other Rangers, let alone Lord Drakkon. No one else is aware of what we’ve been doing here and finding out now could be a distraction we can’t afford,” the blonde teen explained gently. 

Matt lowered his eyes and glumly braced himself against a console.

“I’m afraid for you guys,” he admitted. “What if one of you gets…”

“Don’t speak it into existence, Matthew,” Grace snapped, her own traumatic past closing in on her mind.

Billy settled next to the new Green Ranger, his blue Triceratops helmet clutched in his gloved hands.

“It won’t just be us,” he offered. “There are other Coinless versions of us who will be assisting. Ranger Slayer, Trini, Zack, Bulk, Skull… And the Omega Rangers are going too. Rocky, Aisha, and Adam will be staying here in case there’s a monster attack.”

Matt sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. He didn’t like it one bit. 

But there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

Staying behind with Grace as Tommy, Billy, Kimberly, and the Omega Rangers ventured to that dark world was one of the hardest things Matthew had ever experienced. Those were his friends walking into the path of a mad man…

Well, the White Ranger was not a ‘friend’ friend. As the new kid in school back in the day, Tommy had been a huge fucking dick, mean as a striped snake, easy to anger, and vicious with his mouth. No one wanted anything to do with his ass, including Bulk and Skull and their fellow punks. 

More often than not, poor Jase sported a black eye or busted lip, sometimes even limping down the school hallways. The others in his friend group also had their turns in the hot seat, just not as often. Matt had tried to stay out of it, as Jason had insisted, until he just couldn’t stop himself.

That afternoon, during their shared lunch period, Matt had attempted to have a conversation with Jason about a class project they’d been assigned, but his friend was in so much pain he’d barely been able to talk. One hand curled protectively around his red t-shirt, guarding tender ribs. That was the last straw. 

Biding his time, Matt waited behind in the locker room after gym class, pretending he wasn’t watching Oliver’s progress as his football buddies changed and made their way into the hall.

“You checking me out, Mr. Football Superstar?” Tommy hissed, his head slowly swiveling in Matt’s direction. “Put your eyes back in your head. I’m not interested.”

“Oh, I know you aren’t interested in me, dickhead. And from the look of things, I should count my lucky stars,” the other teen hissed, voice low as he dared approach the surly, green-clad student. “I’m just here to give you some ‘friendly’ advice.”

Tommy rolled his eyes in annoyance, huffing loudly, and turning to face Matt.

“And what’s that?”

Grinning broadly, the jock leaned an arm against the cool metal lockers.

“Leave them alone.”

The corner of Tommy’s mouth twitched and a strange look washed over his face.

“Let me guess… You’re their guard dog, right? Protecting your little puppies…” 

Laughing darkly, he licked his lips deliberately, staring into Matt’s eyes intently. Then, the smirking teen sucker punched him, the blow glancing off his cheekbone and knocking his head around. For several minutes, the pair pummeled one another with Matt managing to get in a few lucky punches of his own despite Tommy’s martial arts skill. Fortunately, the P.E. teacher overheard the brawl and interceded, giving both fighters detention. 

Knowing the truth now, that Tommy was under a spell by the evil witch, Rita Repulsa, Matthew tried not to hold his previous behavior against him. It wasn’t always easy, especially when Kimberly started dating him. And it was weird how fast he and Jason became the best of friends.

But that was a good thing, right? It didn’t mean he wanted something bad to happen to the White Ranger, who tried to make amends and atone for his cruel actions. 

“Kid, you’re going to worry yourself sick if you don’t get your mind on something else,” Grace’s voice called over his shoulder. 

She stood at a control panel, monitoring several different screens at once. Pulling himself from the window, the Green Ranger moved to stand beside her.

“Easier said than done. What else am I going to think about?”

The former Red Ranger shrugged.

“Beats me, Mr. Cook… but wallowing around thinking about your friends isn’t helping anything.”

Staring down at the displays flashing at random as Grace manipulated the dials, he frowned. 

“What are you working on? What does all that mean?” he puzzled, trying to make sense of the data stream flowing through the monitors.

Grace couldn’t help a smirk. This particular project hadn’t been shared with anyone, not even Billy. 

Yet.

“I suppose I can let the new Green Ranger in on my secret,” she teased, her eyes sparkling as they slid to his confused face. “I’m quite proud of this little guy.”

Pulling up a chair, she gestured for Matt to take a seat.

“You might not find this as interesting as Billy will, but perhaps you will…”

“As you may have been aware, Mr. Cook, Promethea was in possession of the illustrious Lord Drakkon, locked away in a secure holding cell deep within our facility. For a time anyways,” Grace began. “I had hoped and planned for his residence to become permanent, but I’m no fool.”

Flipping a switch, a large screen materialized into view before Matt’s eyes. Drakkon’s name was typed at the top with pertinent physical characteristics described below. 

“I knew there was ALWAYS a risk of escape with that one. And sure enough, he managed to find a way to worm his way free and return to the Coinless World.”

She chuckled, the sound contemptuous.

“But his ‘lordship’ was unaware that he brought ‘Scout’ along with him when he departed.”

Matt’s brow scrunched and he looked up at Grace, who stood at his shoulder.

“Scout?”

The screen switched images and a blueprint appeared in place of Drakkon’s face sheet. The little robot resembled what Matt always knew as a ‘daddy long-legs”, the tiny mechanical body held aloft by eight wispy, featherlight appendages. 

“Scout is a ‘spatial collector of observations and universe tracking’. This one is specific to the Coinless dimension,” she announced grandly, excited to finally be able to share her invention. “During one of my many audiences with that arrogant prick, I kept him distracted so Scout could hitch a ride in his pocket. Just in case.”

Her face darkened.

“I knew getting him to revel in his psychotic storytelling would do the trick. That made the nightmares worth it.”

Pointing at the screen, Matt shook his head.

“But what exactly does Scout do?”

Patting the Green Ranger’s shoulder, Grace grinned down at him. 

“Once Drakkon crossed back into his dimension, Scout has been collecting a variety of information about the Coinless universe. Things like weather, topography, air quality, plant and animal life, which is laughable by the way. Microbes. All the nitty gritty. But the most interesting discovery…”

Again, the screen shifted, displaying a graph with a number of squiggly lines that Matthew didn’t understand. Noticing the younger man’s lack of comprehension, Grace sighed. 

“I forget I have to explain in greater detail for you than I do with Billy,” she grunted. 

Walking to stand beside the image, she pointed at the lines.

“From this data, I’ve learned that the Coinless Universe operates in a peculiar timestream. Basically, time is a funny thing, both within their world and between it and ours.”

Hazarding an observation and risking looking foolish, Matt spoke up.

“Aren’t they further along than us? I mean, Billy said the Coinless Rangers were older versions of the ones here.”

Tilting her head, the older woman tried to decide how to answer or explain such a bizarre phenomenon. 

“Sort of, Mr. Cook. For example, the Rangers have only been gone two hours per our time table. In the Coinless universe, that could be days, weeks, months. It…changes.”

“Changes?”

Grace raked her brains to explain, but truthfully, the whole timestream was unexplainable. 

“For a time, it appears we were aligned with their world. But that changed when Lord Drakkon came to power. Something happened, something ‘not good.’ There are ways they advanced and ways that they reversed the clock,” she tried. “It’s not stable. One good ‘whack’ and everything’s screwed.”

Matt jumped up in alarm.

“So they could already be dead and forgotten and we’d have no way of knowing!”

“Settle down, kid. You think with all this tech I don’t have a way to at least keep tabs?” she laughed. “That’s a little insulting.”

Another image change and the screen showed glowing images of the Rangers in their respective colors. 

“See? All alive…”

Matt sank back in his chair with relief. So far, so good. But when would they be back? How would they know if there was something wrong besides being dead? 

Grace was right. He needed something else to ponder. He needed to trust in his friends.

“You know, I’ve heard Lord Drakkon’s name thrown around and how he’s this crazy asshole. But I need to know everything about this dude, Grace. What if he were to find a way back here?” he growled.

“I doubt Drakkon will attempt to cross back. He’s got his happy little kingdom in the Coinless universe and almost lost it. But again, I’m no fool. It could happen. He’s not the most mentally well individual I’ve ever come across.”

Returning to the image of Drakkon’s face sheet, Grace pulled up a separate tab. This not only listed the physical characteristics, but also his history, such as it was known and had been corroborated. In the middle of the page, was a photograph and this was what caused Matthew to cry out in surprise.

“You’ve got to be shitting me, Grace! Oliver? That’s who Drakkon used to be over there?”

Grace nodded. 

“Get comfy, Mr. Cook. You’ve had the cliff notes version of this monster. It’s time for a deep dive…”

By the time Grace Sterling had finished bringing Matt up to speed regarding the demonic Lord Drakkon, the young man was so stunned he couldn’t find words at first. His mouth moved as if to speak but nothing came out. 

Drakkon was the Coinless world’s Tommy Oliver. Damn but didn’t that make sense…

“What the fuck…” he whispered harshly.

Grace gave a sharp nod.

“That’s the understatement of the century, but you have to remember something, Matthew. Tommy is not Drakkon. He could have been, but he chose to join the Rangers. You can’t hold him accountable for the vile things Drakkon did in his world.”

“That might be hard,” the Green Ranger confessed. “I wasn’t Tommy’s biggest fan to begin with even after finding out about the spell. But it sounds like it wasn’t just the spell making him act like an asshole.”

“Tommy’s past is sad and full of abuse, so he easily could have been what Drakkon turned into. It’s very telling that he hates Tommy as badly as he does.”

“I guess…” Matt started, when a flash of blue energy blinded the pair. 

Shielding his eyes, the young man stepped protectively in front of Grace even as his brain registered that it was the Blue Ranger returning to Promethea.

And his appearance was jarring.

The blue and white of his uniform was scorched and torn, blood blossoming over the silk. His face was pale and streaked with tears. In his gloved hands, Billy clutched a thick leather-bound book.

“Oh my God! Billy! Shit! What the hell happened? Are you alright?” Matt cried, darting towards his mentor. 

Grace was right behind him.

“Billy! Where are the others?”

Struggling to catch his breath, the genius thrust the book at the former Red Ranger. He couldn’t bear to have it in his possession still. 

“He blitzed us… barely got away…” he gasped. “The others… at the Command Center… Told them I… had to get… here…”

Matt’s strong arms cradled Billy as he collapsed to the tiled floor, muscles shivering and heart racing. The Green Ranger quickly roved over his body, trying to assess the severity of his injuries. The special healing factor from the Grid had already started to repair the wounds and none looked to be life-threatening.

“Are they alright? Because you look bad, man…”

Billy nodded.

“Yes, but we all pretty much… look like this,” the Blue Ranger whispered. “We couldn’t end Drakkon… He’s still in power. Only he’s gloating and more riled up.”

His red rimmed eyes locked on Grace’s face and he pointed an accusing finger at her.

“Did you know about this? And don’t lie or mislead me this time! I have a right to know!”

The woman’s brow wrinkled as she briefly thumbed the pages, skimming the entries. Matt was too worried about Billy to give the mysterious book any consideration.

“What happened over there?”

Shaking his head vigorously, the blonde teen couldn’t find a way to begin explaining the explosive revelation they’d discovered in the Coinless universe. He shuddered in Matt’s arms and tucked his face in the Green Ranger’s neck.

“I failed! That’s what happened! I couldn’t fix it! And I still don’t know how… I should have found an answer! When it counted, I came up empty and he actually left with him!”

Matt put a hand under Billy’s chin and forced him to look him in the eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

Grace cleared her throat, catching their attention.

“I’ll need time to read this in its entirety, Billy. Drakkon enjoyed spending his time here discussing the sick things he carried out. From what I’ve been able to glean right here, no, I wasn’t aware of what really happened to him.”

“Who?” Matt tried again, annoyed at being left in the dark.

“Not now, Matthew. Billy needs tending to.”

And with that, she hefted the book under her arm and ducked through the automatic door.

Matt gaped after her a moment, then helped the Blue Ranger to his feet. Tears still flowed and dripped from his cheeks to dot the front of his uniform.

“Billy…”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, Matt. I… I can’t.”

Once he’d assisted cleaning and dressing Billy’s wounds, Matt gently tucked him into bed in one of Promethea’s sleeping quarters. He hated to leave him alone, but he needed to find Grace. She’d all but disappeared after departing with the book Billy had brought back from the Coinless world.

In fact, almost no one had seen her and he was starting to worry.

The Green Ranger scoured every inch of the facility before he thought to go outside. And that’s where he found her.

She was standing near a roaring bonfire, her back to him as he approached. There was something off in the way she stood and he was surprised when the woman blew a puff of smoke in the air.

“Grace?”

She jumped slightly, trying to hide her cigarette.

“Matthew? What are you doing out here? Is Billy patched up?”

She gave up trying to conceal her vice and gave Matt a stern look, though her eyes were wet.

“Dirty habit. I gave it up a long time ago, but every now and then… Nights like tonight beg for one. Or two or three.”

She fished in a pocket of her lab coat and pulled out an orange colored plastic bottle that rattled slightly. Matt recognized it as a prescription medication bottle.

“Haven’t needed one of these in awhile either… Drakkon really has a way of bringing out your deepest fears.”

Within the flames, the young man realized that Grace had tossed the thick volume into the pit to burn. She took another puff of her cigarette and looked at where he was gazing. 

“What was that?” Matt whispered.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, kid. Let this one go. Stay close to Billy right now. He’s your focus…”

She turned back to watch the book withering into ash.

“I’m not going to be much company tonight so why don’t you get back inside?”

Wordlessly, Matt nodded as he too watched the book disintegrating for a moment. Then he turned and made his way back inside Promethea and down the corridor towards where Billy was nestled.

Except from the sound of it, he wasn’t peacefully resting.

Racing the rest of the way to the sleeping quarters, Matt nearly broke the door down before it could swish open. The screams had been terrified and his chest tightened in fear.

On the bed, Billy was sitting upright, eyes tightly shut, screaming forlornly into the darkness. 

“Billy! Billy! It’s alright! I’m here!” Matt yelled over the din, hoping the teen could hear him. “You’re safe! You’re safe!”

“NO! Don’t go! Don’t do this!”

“Billy! Wake up!”

“We can help you! It’s not real! He’s deceiving you!”

Matt gripped Billy’s shoulders firmly and gave a few sharp shakes, causing the boy’s eyes to snap open. Reflexively, he pulled back, prepared to punch his attacker but the Green Ranger seized his fist and held it gently.

“Matt?” Billy gasped, looking around in confusion. “Where are we?”

“Promethea. We’re safe, we’re safe…”

Swallowing miserably, Billy burrowed into Matt’s arms.

“Will you stay awhile, Matt? I don’t want to be alone right now. I don’t want to keep seeing it over and over and over…”

Pulling back, he grinned down softly at the Blue Ranger.

“I’ll stay as long as you need me. All night if I have too. I’m here.”

He snuggled down into blankets, cuddling Billy close.

“I’ll always be here…”

[rayshippouuchiha]

Since you expressed some interest in my aideku, Doctor Strange reincarnated as Izuku Midoriya idea, I have no choice but to tell you all of my plans (minus spoilers, probably) >:3c  I have titles and quotes and everything, for at least 2 of the 3 stories planned.

So, first one is called Who Takes to the Road. “I could not say what creeps and whispers through the branches and down the threaded Road, but I hear it, and I am not afraid.”

Dr. Strange reincarnates as Izuku Midoriya. He’s kept the memories of his past life since birth, and has no idea why or how. He’s in a completely different universe, not even one of the many alternates or parallels more familiar to his past life. Which means different rules of magic, natural law, maybe even physics and science. The freeflowing magic/dragon tracks/ley lines are certainly much weaker and less dense than the Earth of his past life, for example. And because of this world’s different position within the multiverse, he has to adjust how he draws on interdimensional powers and which he draws from, as well as becoming used to having less power at his disposal (he discovers eventually that this world also doesn’t have nearly the same amount of interdimensional/mystical threats as his last). And he is very careful about never being caught, so while the quirkless ‘diagnosis’ is a bit disappointing, he’s seen far too many quirk drawbacks to be too upset about it. And because of an off-hand comment he makes that results in extensive genetic testing to be sure, he has no intention of passing sorcery off as a quirk when that would turn him into some sort of genetic/medical miracle.

He’s seen enough to recognize a dystopian society when he sees it, thanks. He’s not about to put himself in some mad scientist’s lab, and the HPSC is a little too reminiscent of SHIELD/Hydra for his tastes.

Izuku realizes too late just how bad the discrimination against the quirkless is, though. But he’s a grown man mentally, even if a child physically. He transfers to online classes when the treatment starts getting bad and breezes through them. It leaves him plenty of free time (and child bodies have way too much energy, what the heck), to take up hobbies (programming and hacking will be useful at some point, he’s sure) and to train his body in preparation for the threats he knows are out there, and whatever this world intends to throw at him. Also, to gain maximum flexibility and mobility while still young to minimize the pains of old age.

Izuku doesn’t have any intention of being a pro-hero (he didn’t even really consider himself a hero in his last life; a guardian or protector, maybe, a healer, definitely, but not a hero like the Avengers). He’d chosen sorcery in his last life because he could save more people that way than he could if he’d gone back to being a doctor. But here, there are practically no mystical/interdimensional/extraterrestrial threats. There is a glut of pro-heroes to take care of ‘villains’. He can do more as a doctor, and better for the quirkless community as a prominent, quirkless doctor prodigy. Plus, some part of him aches to return to surgery now that he has steady, undamaged hands again.

Time passes, it requires some finagling (and maybe some hacking) to get around institutional quirkless prejudice, but as a young(ish?) teen he gains his PhD in neuroscience, while his MD is temporarily stalled when his residency is delayed [some research into MD requirements may be necessary, or I may just end up making things up]. In the meantime he sets up a quirkless clinic in the slums, heavily warded to make it a safe space and prevent anyone who means harm from finding it. Izuku will treat anyone who needs help, of course, but it is first and foremost for the safety, comfort, and healing of the quirkless.

One night, Eraserhead ends up dropping on his doorstep, passed out from blood loss and dangerously close to dying. Izuku fixes him up and then kicks him out once he’s well enough to walk away. Shouta is intrigued by this extremely young doctor, surprisingly competent but with a horrible bedside manner that he suspects was made worse to get him to leave quicker and never come back.

Joke’s on Izuku, Shouta is like a cat. He’s caught his attention and his interest, and trying to get rid of him is more likely to get him to stay. And Shouta does keep coming back.

Plus, he eventually figures out that Izuku is the not-vigilante that Tsukauchi will sometimes complain about. Because Izuku might have no interest in heroics, but he’s certainly not going to look the other way when innocent people are being threatened and harmed right in front of him. And he lives in the bad part of town, and is possibly even more of a trouble magnet than he was Before. Vigilante charges won’t stick, it’s always self-defense, and he never goes on patrols or anything. The local police know him very well, and Stephen gets to point where he could fill out the paperwork/follow procedure in his sleep.

It's not just fighting the criminals either. Once Shouta knows what to look for, what to listen for, he hears the rumors about Izuku just talking down a good number of would-be criminals as well. Thinking back on his smart mouth, he can’t be too surprised.

Slowly, as they spend more and more time together, their walls are bridged and they become closer (and Shouta notices more and more strange little things, but he settles back to observe rather than demanding answers outright for the most part). Izuku even ends up doing an internship with Recovery Girl at one point. Mainly because he needs the hours and they’re one of the few local places that would accept him. He has absolutely no inclination, however, of making a career as a school doctor. Bottom of the list. He’s determined to become a renowned neurosurgeon once again, with the added challenge of quirks.

Izuku happens to be present when 3A is attacked at the USJ (Mirio has OFA here). A random craving places him in Hosu during Stain and the nomu attack, he stumbles upon and basically kidnaps Eri at some point, and for whatever reason he’s passing through Kamino when All Might and AFO have their final showdown. That’s where he discovers that there is a significant demonic threat present. And despite all of Izuku’s practice, it is the first actually significant mystical battle he’s participated in since being reborn. Practice is well and good, but he’s rusty when it comes to actual battle, and that could easily be a death sentence. He doesn’t even manage to figure out what the threat is, specifically, and it’s luck that Shouta finds him on UA grounds in time to get him to Recovery Girl.

Life progresses as usual while Izuku desperately tries to figure out what the demon is doing and how to defeat it. All while trying to keep what he’s looking for secret from the entity and dodging whatever safeguards it might have set up over the decades, or maybe centuries. Eventually we get to the war arc (I think it’s called?) where Shigaraki is upgraded by the doctor, or whatever, and AFO takes over his body (I haven’t actually seen or read Bnha except for a ton of fanfiction, so all of my canon knowledge comes from that and maybe a couple of wiki articles). There’s a twist I build up to with this climax, and hopefully do well enough to shock readers, but safe to say that Shouta is not having a good time.

But these two idiots do finally get together, so there’s that.

Wow, this ended up being a lot longer than I thought.

(Book 2 and 3 ideas to come eventually. Maybe even soon. Maybe this will give me the motivation to actually start writing).

[thewritetofreespeech]

I'm feeling under the weather. Would you write some scenarios of how the GOM boys + Kagami would take care of me to help me feel better???

Awwww! I’m so sorry to hear that!! I hope you feel better ^_^. Hope this helps too! It’s a little long with all the boys. So rest of the GOM + Kagami is under the cut.

Akashi:

Being sick was the worst. Between the body aches & pains, general lethargy, you hadn’t gotten out of bed hardly at all today. You barely had the energy to get up and call school this morning to tell them you weren’t coming. Thankfully, they hadn’t pressed, and wished you a speedy recovery for returning to class on Monday.

That was your wish too.

You didn’t want anyone to know you were sick.

Sleeping most of the day, you were surprised to hear the doorbell much later in the afternoon. This would be the time you would normally just be getting home from school. So, who could possibly expect you to be home right now?

“Akashi-kun…?” You said in surprise. Finding your boyfriend, and his dreamy duel-colored eyes, on the other side of your door.

“Hello darling.” The brilliant red head greeted with a soft smile. As if it was perfectly natural for him to be here. “I heard you were under the weather. So I came to check on you. I also brought a physician to check in on you as well.” You look past Akashi finally to see a nice, older looking gentleman in a white lab coat with a crescent eyed smile.

“Akashi-kun, I already went to the doctor. That’s how I know I’m sick.”

“This doctor is better.” He announced as he saw himself in, with his doctor, and led you over to the couch. “He’s the personal physician for the Akashi family. His credentials are far superior to that of your typical clinic doctor.” You want to say something to him about how it didn’t take ‘superior credentials’ to diagnosis a cold, but Akashi was already positioning you on the couch. He gave you another soft smile before he turned to the doctor with a much cooler look and told him to get to work.

Sure enough, you still have a cold. “Gee, I’m so glad you brought such a brilliant doctor all the way here for me Sei-kun.” You quip sarcastically. Using your familiar nickname now that you were alone.

“Humor me, alright.” He replied. Bringing over the tray of tea he had been busying himself with while the doctor examined you. “I was worried when you didn’t come to school today. Why didn’t you call me?”

“Because I didn’t want to worry you….” You mutter into your tea cup once he had handed it to you. “I know…you get worried about people you care about being sick, after what happened to your mom. When Kuroko was sick last winter you practically wore a trench in the floor pacing ‘til you knew he was better.” Your fingers run the brim of the tea mug. Soaking up the warmth in your hands as you hold it. “I thought I could get over it before you found out, so you wouldn’t have to be the wiser. I guess that was pretty stupid hn? You always figure everything out.”

Akashi looked at you with a soft expression. Then he leaned in to kiss your warm forehead. “You’re not stupid. Don’t ever say that about yourself.” He told you. “And yes, it’s true. I get worried when people I care about are ill. But more than that I get worried when people don’t tell me things. When my mother was sick, no one told me anything. They said she was fine. Then one day she was just gone. Being in the dark is worse than just knowing the truth. So I must insist that you tell me these things in the future. Ok?”

You smile a little. You can tell he was trying really hard not to make this an order; his orders were absolute after all. But he was trying to make sure that he was kept in the loop in the future. He was worried about you.

You smile a little and snuggle into Akashi’s chest. “Yes kotei-kun.”

Midorama:

Thank God Japan had such strict firearm laws, because if you had a gun right now you’d shot yourself.

Ok, no you wouldn’t. But death would be a sweet blessing over this cold. This 24-hour bug thing hit you hard and hit you fast. Crippling you from a once vibrant human being to a walking corpse in less than a few hours. You sincerely wished that it was only 24 hours.

You hear the doorbell from the kitchen and hope it’s your soup. Too weak to even make your own food, you’d begrudgingly ordered some hot broth in an attempt to eat and keep up your strength.

You open the door to surprisingly find not your soup but Shutoku’s positive point guard standing there. “Takao?”

“Hi [Y/N]-chan!”

“What are you doing here?”

“Shin-chan heard you were sick. So, he wanted to come take care of you.” Holding of a napsack of supplies.

You blink once, looking around to see if you had somehow missed Midorima in your fever fogged mind. “He’s…here?”

“Don’t just stand in the door way and let the cold air in. You’re just going to make your cold worse.”

You blink again and Takao gave an awkward laugh as he scratched the back of his head, before revealing a small green walkie-talkie from his pocket. “He didn’t want to get sick himself.”

A grumble of irritation left your lips. “So Shintaro sent you to do his dirt work, as usual.” Takao laughed again. “Tell him thanks but no thanks. I don’t want any second-hand bedside manner, and I’m just going to sleep anyway.”

“Oy! [Y/N]-chan! Don’t be like that!” The dark-haired teen’s hand lanced out to catch the door. Barring you from closing it. “Shin-chan was really worried when you didn’t come to school today. Honest. He does want to help. You just know how he is though. I know it’s not the same as coming up here himself, but he bought all this stuff and wrote down all these instructions for me to help make you feel better.”

You look at the bag Takao had in his hand. It did seem like a lot. Midorima must have gone to several different drug stores to pick it all up and bring it over here. Even if he did stay in the parking lot. You look past Takao down to the ground floor, where Midorima was standing looking up at your apartment. Seeming to wait for you to follow his instructions about going inside but also with that steadfast look he got when he was truly worried about something.

“You just don’t want to go back down there and tell him you failed.” The boy in front of you laughed with an awkward ‘maybe’. “You can’t stay too long. My parents are going to be back after work, and they’re not going to be happy about a boy in my room and another one looking real stalkery in the parking lot.”

“Thanks [Y/N]!” Takao said as you let him in.

“Make sure they take the cold medicine now, before it gets too late. It’s one cap full every 4 hours. Drink some of the green tea I made for you. It’s in the green thermos. The red one is soup.”

“I know how to take medicine Shintaro. And I already ordered food before you got here. It’s on its way so-Wait! Why am I arguing with a walkie-talkie!?!”

Aomine:

You have an absolutely splitting headache. To the point that every time you get up to go to the bathroom and throw up, you check to see if an icepick is somehow lodged in the back of your skull.

Why did you have to get sick today? Aomine was going to kill you for missing his game; even if the outcome was inevitable. His love for basketball was second only to you (and sometimes you weren’t sure about the ranking). So you being at his games was what he loved most of all. If you weren’t there to see him crush whatever team into dust and lead his team to victory, you’d never hear the end of it. Maybe you’d get lucky and he’d get in the Zone early on and not even realize you weren’t there. Yeah…that was possible….

You crack your eyes open into painful, narrow slits from under the covers as you realize the pounding you were hearing was not just in your head but at the door. What idiot was banging on your door in the middle of the afternoon?

Steeling yourself to get up and answer the door. You were surprised to find it was your idiot behind the door. Aomine standing there, in his trademark Too warmup suit and equally trademark scowl.

“Aomine? What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?! What are you doing here?!”

“I kind of live here.”

Aomine tsked through his teeth with a sneer. “That’s not what I meant, baka! Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?!”

“Oh….” You blink a little in surprise. What was a good way to tell him that you didn’t think he’d care? “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“It’s not, but you should still tell me about it!” He told you. “I had to hear about it from Satsuki. Do you know how stupid that makes me look if I don’t know that my own s/o is sick?!”

“So are you mad that I didn’t tell you? Or are you mad that I made you look stupid?”

“I’m mad at both!” Aomine yelled. He then seemed to realize he was yelling at a sick person, and his s/o, so he took a breath and calmed down. “Here.”

You look down at the convenience store bag he offered you. Taking it in your hands. “What’s this?”

“Jellies.” He replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t know which flavor you’d like when you’re sick, so I just got a bunch of ‘em.”

You blink at the bag, then up at Aomine. He…got these for you? You can see on his face now that he was angry because he was worried about you. Not that you were going to miss the game, but because he was worried about you. Your beautiful basketball ace was too proud to admit it though. “Thanks.” You said softly, with an equally soft smile.

The ace looked away and rubbed the back of his head while he was at it. “Yeah well, jellies always made me feel better when I was sick as a kid. Figured they’d make you feel better too.”

“I really appreciate it. I haven’t been able to keep much down.” Maybe that was TMI, but hey. Relationships weren’t always moonbeams and rainbows. “These will really hit the spot.”

“Well, I got extra red ones in there for you, so crack one open.” Aomine said as he saw himself past you and into your apartment.

“Hold on! You’re eating my present now?! Wait…hang on a minute, aren’t you supposed to be warming up for your game? How are you going to get back in time for starting line up if you’re here now?”

“I’m skipping it.” The blunette answered as if it was obvious. Taking off his windbreaker jacket and throwing it in a chair, before he flopped himself on your couch with his limbs stretched out to take up most of it. “There’s no one strong on that team anyway. So, it’s no fun. Let those other guys put in the work for once. They can’t expect me to carry the team all the time. So annoying….”

You stare at Aomine. Was he really….skipping basketball….to be with you here when you’re sick?

A warm feeling, you’re sure was not your fever this time, spread over you. He really did care, didn’t he?

“You should really put those in the fridge before they get warm. Warm jellies are the worst. I still want a red one though. Maybe two now that I think about it.”

You grumble as the ‘warm feeling’ starts to dissipate. Still harboring in your chest, but certainly less profound than it was a moment ago. “It’s super rude to eat someone’s present when they haven’t even had one of them, Aomine.” You still give him the red ones though.

Kise:

Your kingdom for another box of tissues. At the rate you were running through them, a small rainforest was in serious jeopardy.

If you didn’t feel so cruddy, you’d be more worried about that fact. Right now, however, you just wanted your nose to stop running. You had been sneezing and sniffling all day, and in an effort to not be labelled ‘Typhoid Mary’ chosen to stay home from school. It was the reasonable thing to do. When you were sick.  

You finish blowing your nose for the umpth time when your phone rang. You pick it up and answer with a gravely, “hello?”

“[Y/N]-CCHI!!”

You pull the phone away from your ear at the loud, sobbing cry of your name through the phone from your boyfriend. “Kise…don’t yell…”

“[Y/N]-cchi! You’re sick! Why didn’t you tell me?? Kurokocchi had to call me today and tell me!”

Damn Kuroko. That snitch. “Because it’s not a big deal. It’s just a little cold. I’ll be fine.”

“But [Y/N]-cchi! You’re all alone with no one to take care of you! I won’t be back til Sunday!” Kise had gotten a modeling job out of town for the weekend. Some ‘on location’ gig for some sea side pics. Poor Kise. He must be freezing. But, those photos needed to be done and printed long in advance before summer time to boost sales.

If you had had to put money on it, you would have thought he would be the sick one: running around half naked on a frozen beach in January. Yet here you were.

“Do you think I just sit in a dark closet, with nobody around, until you show up again Kise?” A dramatic gasp was heard on the other end of the phone. “I’m not ‘alone’ Kise. I mean, I am now, but I have people around me to help if I need it. So you don’t have to worry.”

“But I’m not around to help you!” Kise whined. You can practically hear the broken-hearted boyfriend emoji floating around his head. “Let me at least order you some soup. Soup is what sick people eat right? That place near your house has that chicken ramen you like. Chicken ramen is like chicken soup. That’s what people eat when they’re sick right?? Or maybe you want something else?? What’s another thing that sick people eat?!”

“Ryouta!” You have to yell his first name to get him out of the spiral. You love Kise, but every now and then his boundless energy was annoying. You let out a sigh, and tell him, “yes, you can order me some food. Don’t go overboard.”

Kise perked up. You do kind of wish you could see his smiling face. It was so cute when he did these adorable 180s. He promised not to go overboard before he hung up the phone and ordered you some food. He then immediately called you back to let you know it would be there in 20 minutes, and told you all about his day.

He stayed with you on the phone when your food came, and even after. You watched one of your favorite movies on Netflix party, curled up in your blankets on your bed. If you closed your eyes and focused on the warmth of your blankets & Kise’s soft voice in your ear, it was almost like he was here.

You fell asleep to that feeling. Feeling much better after you woke up and waiting for Kise to come home.

Kuroko:

You toss and turn a little in your sleep, trying to get back to it as you’ve actually woken up and want to sleep more. Rest was the only cure for a cold. And although you were still tired, even though you’d stayed home and slept all day, you were apparently too tired to fall back asleep.

You crack your eyes open. Your vision blurry for a moment before it clears up. Leaving you with a sea of blue in front of you. “Hello [Y/N].”

You let out a surprise shriek, followed by an almost perfect imitation of your boyfriend’s Ignite Pass against his face. “K-Kuroko!” You stammer, as the young man in question tried to recover from the shattering blow you just gave him. “I’m so sorry! What are you doing here?!”

“Your mother let me in.” He replied, words muffled by his hand. He pulled it away to inspect it and seemed to find no blood. That was a relief. You’d feel so bad if you both were down for the count. “I wanted to see you, and bring you your course work for today.”

Ah. So that’s how he got in. You didn’t think your mother would just let a high school boy in your room unsupervised. Also, maybe it was because Kuroko looked so unthreatening. If only she knew. “Thanks. Sorry again.”

“It’s alright. I should have known better than to sneak up on a sick person.” He said with a soft smile. His hand reached out to pet your head. “How are you feeling?”

“Still crummy,” you confess, “but on the mend. I’m sure I’ll be back to school on Monday.”

“Good. Everyone at school misses you. Even the senpais were asking about you today.”

“Did you miss me Kuroko?” You ask sheepishly.

To which he got a surprised expression before softening and immediately answering, “yes.”

Your face warmed with something other than a fever, and you pulled your blanket up to your nose. “You should go. I don’t want you to get sick too.”

“I’ll stay for a little bit longer. Don’t worry. I won’t get sick.”

It was a big fat lie as Kuroko was sick immediately after he left. He really should have known better with his borderline frail physique for anything other than basketball. Still, it was nice to talk to him for a while. And you got to take care of him after you were better, so it was all worth it.

Murasakibara:

‘Just a few more hours. You can do this.’

You keep repeating that to yourself over and over again in your head as you trudge down the hall. Only a few more classes and you could go home to die in peace. Why did you have to have a test today?!

Your penance march comes to a halt when you run into somebody. Looking up you realize it was Murasakibara. “Oh, sorry Mura-kun. I didn’t see you there.” You really must be sick if you hadn’t noticed the tower that was your boyfriend and Yosen center.

“[Y/N]-cchi, you don’t look so good.” The purple haired man drawled.

You frown up at him, not needing to hear that right now. “That’s not very nice to say to your s/o, Mura-kun.”

“But it’s the truth.” He told you. “Honesty is the best policy.” You couldn’t really argue with him there. Besides, you were too weak to argue.

Suddenly your vision was dark. You were worried for a second that you might have blacked out in your sick induced state, but quickly realize that Murasakibara’s large hand was on your face. “Mura-kun, let go.”

“You have a fever.” He replied, completely ignoring your protest. He still let you go, of his own volition, and stood to his full height again. “You need to go to the nurse.”

“No. I need to go to class.” You state in a huff. Batting his hands away in an effective, but weak manner, before walking past him to head just there.

You make it about three steps before Murasakibara grabbed you. Lifting you up in the air with ease and throwing you over his shoulder, in a move that would have made your head spin normally. Not to mention if you had a fever. “Atsushi! Let go!” You shout. Squirming and kicking your legs to no avail.

“No. You need to go to the nurse.” He repeated. Carrying you like a sack of potatoes as he walked down the hall.

“Put me down Atsushi! This is embarrassing! I need to go to class and take my test! It’s important!”

“Nothing is more important that your health.” You stop struggling for a moment as Murasakibara said something actually profound for once. “[Y/N]-cchi needs to take care of themselves, or they’ll just get sicker and get others sick. Tests and silly stuff like school work can wait.”

You grumble and slump down on Murasakibara’s shoulder. It wasn’t like him to be this serious. He also seemed very serious about taking you to the nurse. Nothing seemed capable of deterring him from that path. “Mura-kun, can you put me down? I’ll go to the nurse with you, but this isn’t really comfortable and I can walk on my own.”

He stopped. Then gave you a side ways glance out of the corner of his eye, seeming to not trust you, but still gave in and sat you down. “[Y/N]-cchi is gonna be good?”

“Yes,” you tell him, “I’ll be good.”

He escorted you the rest of the way to the nurses station. Asking if he could have a lollipop, and annoyed when they didn’t have one. What kind of a doctor’s office was this if they didn’t have lollipops, he asked. You’d giggled a little bit and told him to get to class. You’d call him later, since your parents were going to have to pick you up and take you home. You 100% had a fever and were told to go home. Murasakibara pet your head once more before he left to get to class.

The next day, when you were home recuperating, your mother had come into your room with a big candy store bag. “Someone left this big bag of lollipops at the door for you. Do you have any idea who it’s from?”

Kagami:

“I’m really ok Mom….No, it’s not that serious….You really don’t have to come home. Dad either. It’s not the first time I’ve had a cold, and I’m just gonna sleep it off. I’ll be fine by myself…..Yes, I got medicine….No. I’ll be ok. I have a friend from school who’s checking in on me….I love you too. Bye.”

“Your Mom ok?” You look up from the couch when Kagami came up behind it. Handing you a bottle of water for your scratchy sounding throat.

“Yeah. She’s ok. Just worried. She asked if I wanted her to come home, but I told her no.” You hate to admit it but you’re pretty sure it was a hollow gesture. Your parents work was very important. You had learned that early on growing up. They missed certain things in the trade off for having very important, successful careers. One of which was taking care of their child when they were sick.

“You also didn’t tell her it was me who was here. How come?”

“You want me to call her back and tell her we’re playing house?” You ask, with as cheeky of a grin as you can muster being sick. It still got the desired result.

“We’re not playing house!”

“Doctor then?”

Your cute boyfriend turned about as red as his hair, and stalked off back to the kitchen while fluster muttering to himself.

You chuckle a little. Which turned into a coughing fit, so you had to drink a little bit of water.

You and Kagami had initially bonded over being “latchkey kids”. Though your situation was not as severe as Kagami’s, with your parents still being in the country at least, they both traveled for work a lot and were rarely home. They tried to stagger their work trips so you wouldn’t be home alone, but this wasn’t the first time.

This also wasn’t the first time you would be alone when you were sick, if it hadn’t been for Kagami.

“Aren’t you worried you’re going to get sick?” You ask from the living room. Your voice squeaking and squawking the whole time.

“I never get sick.” He replied back confidently. Then rounded the corner with a tray you were 90% sure you did not have in your house before now. “Basketball and eating right keeps me healthy. So, I never get sick. You don’t have to worry.”

“I don’t think eating a dozen cheeseburgers a day counts as ‘eating right’.” You tell him.

Kagami grumbled. Seeming to want to argue or say something, but realizing its bad form to fight with a sick person. Instead, he just sat the tray down in front of you and sat on the couch. “What’s this?”

“Chicken noddle soup,” he replied. “Japan doesn’t have the right noodles. So I had to use soba. But the main part should be the same.”

“You made me chicken soup?”

Kagami tensed for a moment. His face turning hot pink again; possibly from the soft expression on your face or the soft sound of your voice. He turned away, scratching his cheek. “Y-Yeah. Like I said, it’s important to eat right to keep healthy. So…So eat up so you can be at school on Monday. It sucks when you’re not there.”

You smile softly at Kagami, then lean over to give him a peck on the cheek. “You said you never get sick right?” You tell him when he looked at you. His cheeks still pink, but not much pinker than before.

You eat your soup and gush constantly over how tasty it was. Kagami seemed super proud. Cooking and basketball were the two skills he was most proud of, and knowing that you liked something he made made him puff out his chest even more.

After your soup he made you a bowl of ice cream you were also 90% sure you did not have in your house before now and watched a movie.

After that, Kagami said he was going to head home but when he stood up from the couch you hand lanced out and grabbed onto his shirt tail on it’s on. “Could…Could you stay?” You’ll blame the weak sounding tone of your voice on your cold later. “I know I told my mom that I’d be fine on my own but….I really don’t want to be alone.”

The red headed ace blinked, seeming surprised by your confession (that you were also totally going to blame on your cold later). He gave you a soft smile and sat back down on the couch. Pulling you into his arms so you were practically in his lap. “You could have just told me that.”

[kozumekenza]

house of memories :: two

:: kageyama tobio x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 2.1k ::

the last you had heard of kageyama tobio, he was following his grandfather’s footsteps and leaving you behind to join the syndicate. a chance meeting throws him back into your life, along with all of the memories.

tw: alcohol, mafia elements, profanity

You’re shivering, the moonlight reflecting off of the tears on your face. You really shouldn’t look this beautiful while crying, he thinks, and immediately admonishes himself for the thought. However, he also finds it fitting. There will be a lot of tears where he’s going; a lot of break-downs, a lot of pain. But still, he doesn’t think it’ll compare to the breaking of his heart in his chest when he watches you turn away from him forever. 

---

Kageyama Tobio is known for a lot of things; his cold exterior, his unforgiving nature, his skills with a weapon. He is also known for his unfriendliness, performing his job with a blank face and a calculating mind. He is known for having impenetrable walls and refusing to let people inside them. He is known for his detachment to everything around him; he doesn’t form connections with others, and his emotions are seemingly nonexistent. 

Even still, he can’t help but feel devastation and despair when he watches you walk away from him yet again, four years later, slipping from his grasp for the second time. 

---

After mumbling a quick apology to the bartender, who you now realize was Kageyama Miwa, you bolted to the dance floor and dragged Hana out of the club. She went willingly, asking next to no questions, her state of intoxication making her follow you with no complaints. 

Now, as you half-carry her into your shared apartment, you can’t help but wonder what would have happened if you stayed. It was obvious that both of the Kageyama siblings recognized you, although Miwa’s reaction was far better. Hana falls asleep the moment her head hits the pillow, and you leave her with a bottle of water and painkillers for the morning, sighing as you do so. You can only hope that she doesn’t ask too many questions about your quick escape tomorrow. You aren’t ready to dive into your past with Kageyama. 

When you finally crawl into bed, sleep evades you. Your night is spent tossing and turning, and when you finally do drift off, your dreams are filled with flashes of navy eyes and raven hair. 

---

The weeks pass as the sweltering heat of summer finally comes to an end; suddenly, you and Hana are back to your normal lives as college students. She asks no questions about that night at the club, and you’ve pushed it to the back of your mind, practically forgetting about it. 

The beginning of the semester starts, and with it, late night studying and weekends spent partying. Hana’s still going strong with the guy that has the membership, and you’ve finally met him, learning his name is Ushijima. He’s stoic and serious, but his love for Hana is obvious, and their relationship has progressed past late-night flings and one-night stands. You’re happy for her, even when she says that he’s not a college student, but a businessman who works under the CEO of a fairly well-known company. You know that’s true on the surface, but you don’t tell Hana that her newest lover is most likely one of Kageyama’s colleagues, whose job involves more guns and blood than it does numbers and desk work. 

All things considered, he treats her well, taking her on extravagant and luxurious dates, picking her up in a Bugatti, and always bringing her flowers. He’s respectful whenever he sees you, and if you didn’t know any better, you would think he’s just a nice, rich man. You know that Kageyama probably told him about you, but you can’t be particularly bothered, especially when Hana’s eyes light up whenever she talks about him. 

You start your fourth and final year of university without much fanfare; for you, it’s back to research work in the lab and long lectures on biology and medicine. You’re slightly envious of Hana’s path in nursing; she’s already working in the hospital and doing clinicals. Unfortunately for you, you’re stuck applying for medical schools while balancing your ever-growing list of lab write-ups and reports. 

It’s a fairly normal day, a few weeks into the semester, when Kageyama becomes the focus of your mind once again. 

You walk out of your final lab feeling exhausted; it’s already eight in the evening, and Hana’s on night shift, so you’ll be alone in your apartment for the night. Normally, you don’t mind, but tonight, all you want to do is crawl into bed without dinner and without completing any of the assignments that are due this week. Hana usually keeps you in check; reminding you of a lab report you have forgotten and keeping you company while you complain about your professors. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when you spot Kageyama Miwa, leaning on a black Lexus, eyes on her phone as she waits outside your lab building. 

Her eyes meet yours as she glances up, and she waves you over. Grabbing the straps of your backpack, you approach her. You aren’t sure what she’s here for, but you’re assuming it’s you. It doesn’t surprise you that she knows which university you attend and apparently, your class schedule. You’ve always known that Kageyama kept an eye on you. 

“Hey, Miwa,” you greet her with a smile.

“Hey, y/n.” She pulls you in for a hug. “We didn’t get a chance to properly talk that night. I almost didn’t recognize you, it’s been forever.”

“Yeah,” you nod, “but I’m pretty sure you aren’t here to catch up.”

She looks slightly surprised and disappointed, and you know that you’re right. “Unfortunately not. Are you busy tonight?”

You shake your head. Homework can wait for tomorrow, and as long as wherever she’s taking you has food, you don’t really care. You’re more curious about why she’s here; what Kageyama could possibly need you for. 

“Good.” She opens the passenger door of the Lexus. “This shouldn’t take too long.”

You get in as she goes around the other side and starts the car. “Why do you need me?”

She pulls away and you recognize that she’s heading towards Shadow. “Security issues. Personal files were leaked. Tobio’ll explain more, but he’s concerned for your safety.”

You snort at that. Kageyama Tobio, concerned. Hilarious. 

You can see Miwa glance at you out of the corner of her eye, but she remains silent as she pulls down a side street adjacent to the club. A garage opens, and she pulls in. You note the multiple luxury sport cars inside as you follow her out of the garage. 

She leads you down a hallway to an elevator, then up to the 30th floor. From what you can tell, the bottom few floors of the building are dedicated to the club, and you can assume that the top floors are for Kageyama’s personal use. You don’t think about the multiple basement buttons and what could possibly be down there. 

A ding signals the end of the ride, and you step out into the foyer of a large penthouse. Miwa leads you past a kitchen and living area, up a sweeping set of stairs. You can’t help but admire the modern apartment; it’s truly beautiful, accented in neutral blacks, grays, and browns. For a second, you’re jealous of Kageyama for being able to live in a place like this, but then you remember what he does and the feeling disappears. 

Miwa knocks on a door at the end of the hall, and it opens a second later. Kageyama is seated at a large mahogany desk, papers spread in front of him and the glow of a laptop reflecting on his face. The night lights of Tokyo can be seen from the floor-to-ceiling windows opposite the door, and you marvel at the view for a few seconds. You note that Kageyama looks exhausted; the file leak must be really bad. Much to your own disappointment, you also note that he still looks as handsome as ever in a dark blue suit. 

He barely looks up when the two of you enter, and Miwa clears her throat. “Bi, she’s here.”

The small giggle that leaves your mouth as a result of Miwa’s continued use of his childhood nickname causes Kageyama to look up at you, carefully assessing you. You know that you look like shit right now, your hair is messy from wearing goggles, and you’re dressed in lab clothes that have stains from previous chemical spills. 

“Come sit.” Kageyama gestures to the seat in front of him, and you dutifully obey. 

“Do you want something to drink, y/n?” Miwa’s still by the door, doing her duties as a host to Kageyama’s guests, but you shake your head.

“I’m alright, thank you.”

She smiles and pauses with her hand on the door handle. “You’re more than welcome to stay for dinner. We haven’t eaten yet, and I know I probably interrupted you heading home to eat.”

You grin, nodding. “I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

She leaves with an incline of her chin, the door shutting softly behind her.

You look Kageyama Tobio in the eyes, trying to decipher his feelings about you being here. You used to be pretty good; he never had to say anything for you to know what he was feeling. Now, you can tell that the years have made him cold and unreadable. 

He sighs and leans back, interlacing his fingers in front of him. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. Two simple words not only for the hassle of dragging you here and interrupting your evening, but for the past four years, starting from the second you walked away from him and continuing through the obvious surveillance he’s done on you without your permission. “You do what you have to do.”

He looks relieved to hear you say that, enough that he grabs a file and rearranges its contents, pulling out a piece of paper to slide across the table to you.

“So, as Miwa told you, we had a breach in security. Personal files were hacked from our database, and that included yours. I’m sure you know why you have a file.” You nod. “Yours contained information such as your personal history with Miwa and me, as well as your whereabouts and what you’ve been doing for the past four years. Addresses, emails, phone numbers, and social media accounts were also leaked.” Kageyama sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Under normal circumstances, I would not be concerned. Everyone involved in my business knows the risks and how to defend themselves. You, on the other hand, didn’t ask for any of this. I’m concerned the group that stole the file will attempt something with you, as the file is clear evidence that you’re important to both Miwa and me.”

Awful news so far, but you saw it coming when Miwa mentioned a security issue. “Do you know who stole the files?” Kageyama nods. “Did they take anything else?”

“No, just personal files. Didn’t touch mine, they know everything about me already. They only took yours and Miwa’s, which is why I’m so concerned.”

You nod along to his words. The hackers wouldn’t take such inconsequential information unless they were looking for someone close to Kageyama to use as collateral. Plus, they would normally take business information, not anything personal. Things in Tokyo’s underworld must be bad. 

“What are you going to do?”

Kageyama gestures to the paper. “I know you’re in school, so I can’t simply lock you up somewhere until it’s safe again.” His small smile and dry humor makes you brighten up a little. You missed that side of him, with the short quips and ever-present sarcasm. “I’m proposing a security detail. Just two of my men, to keep an eye on things. You won’t even know they’re there. Plus, as you know, Ushijima hangs around your roommate quite a bit, and he’s under orders to keep an eye out as well. This,” he taps the paper, “is simply for your own knowledge. I’ve listed all the information that was leaked, as well as what to look out for if you believe you might be in danger. There’s also information on the two I’ll have guarding you, so you aren’t alarmed in case they make their presence known.”

You take the paper and briefly skim it. “Thank you.”

Kageyama’s smile is brief but genuine. “Again, I’m sorry about all of this. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”

You sigh. “It’s alright. Something like this was bound to happen one day anyway.”

It’s true; you’ve always known the risks, even though you haven’t been associated with Kageyama for four years, before his reign over Tokyo. You knew that even when you left, there was still a chance someone would trace back to you.

Kageyama stands up, his hand held out to you. “Want to go eat?”

taglist: @lilith412426​ 

[page-doctor-bekker]

Rooftop - Part 1 (transfemme!sarah)

(A/N) hey! i have a long ass one-shot and i kinda of want to make it lead off a lil bit of a cliffhanger so i've got part one here for you. this takes place a few days after this oneshot

-

-

Sarah grabs her white coat from her desk chair, and stares at the embroidery.

Sarah Reese, MD

Dept. of Psychiatry

She sighed, before retreating to the bathroom to tuck and dress. Even after her orchiectomy, tucking was still mildly uncomfortable. At least she had graduated from using tape to using a gaff, which was much more comfortable and easy to take off at the end of the day.

Once she was dressed, clad in a pair of relaxed, navy blue dress pants and a pale pink button-down shirt speckled with cartoonish images of various types of fruit, she grabbed her lab coat, and shrugged it on.

There was a mirror on her closet door, and she caught a glimpse of herself in it. She gulped, and stood in front of it, staring herself down.

She pressed the pad of her thumb against her jawline, and dragged her skin around in a feeble attempt to soften it. Her jawline led her to her chin, the cleft in it causing a pang of dysphoria in her stomach. She puckered her lips, trying to make them look fuller, but that only exacerbated her chin. She sighed, and gave up. It is what it is.

She let her hand fall to her side, and fiddled with her coat. After a moment, she scowled at herself.

“Move on, Sarah, just move on,” She mumbled to herself, taking a hair tie from her wrist and putting her hair up into an unintentionally neat bun. No matter how hard she tried, she could never succeed in creating a messy one. That required more finesse than she had.

She smiled at herself, although her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I am a good doctor,” She affirmed, “A good doctor who made a mistake,” She quoted Dr. Charles, the thought of him filling her with calm.

“And Ava,” She gave herself a confident look, “Is not worth my time. I don’t even like her anyways.”

She paused for a moment.

“Because I don’t like women,” She shrugged, “And someday I will meet a man who loves me for me.”

“Don’t give me that look,” She snapped at herself, “Just because I’m not cis doesn’t mean I can’t be straight.”

“And I deserve better than Ava anyways,” She opened her mouth, then closed it, like a fish. She opened it again, “Someone better who is a man. I will find the man for me. The only reason I think I like Ava is because I haven’t found the man for me. That’s okay. I’m only 26. Some people don’t get married until after 30.”

“I am a confident woman,” She declared, “A confident straight woman.”

She started to walk away, but she looked back.

“And i’m a good doctor,” She said, sharply.

She saw Dr. Charles outside the hospital, and he waved her over. She ran to catch up with him, out of breath by the time she arrived, “Hello Dr. Charles,” She tried to catch her breath, thinking about how insane she must look right now.

“Dr. Reese,” He greeted with a nod, “How was your break?”

“It was very good,” She announced, “I feel like I am making progress with myself. I am a good doctor! What happened was a mistake, and it doesn’t define my clinical skills.”

He looked at her skeptically, “Good.. Good,” He gave a smile, “In my experience, all you really need after a mistake is to treat a few patients successfully, so I’ve volunteered you to be in the ED this morning.”

Her heart sank.

“And then, when Maggie dismisses you for lunch, come see me in my office and we can chat about what you did differently today,”

Sarah nodded, stuffing her hands in her pockets so she could fidget discreetly. If he knew I’m anxious, he might send me home again.

He gave her a pat on the back, “Holler if you need me. I’m just a page away.”

He left her at the doors to the ED and she took a deep breath, and smiled at the big red letters.

“Help! I need help!”

Go time.

She ran towards the direction of the voice, a large man in his mid-40s who was carrying a young girl, maybe 5 years old, in a bridal-style position.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Reese, I’m going to help you, tell me about your daughter,” She prompted, pressing two fingers onto the girl’s neck while awkwardly walking with the man.

“Ah, she’s my niece, Miranda Maxwell,” He corrected, “Uh, she’s almost six, she’s got a.. uh… Heart condition? She was born with it. Her mom said she sees a doctor here uh… Dr… Dr… Beaker? Brekker?”

“Dr. Bekker?” The name made Sarah’s heart flutter.

“Yes, that’s the one. Anyways, she collapsed today, and says her chest hurts, and she’s a bit blue around her lips and nails.”

Dr. Reese took Miranda from the man, and took a light jog into the emergency department. The man took off after her. Upon entering the ED, she called to Maggie, “Five years old with a congenital heart condition, chest pain, trouble breathing, rapid pulse, blue lips and nails, where do you want me?”

“Treatment five.”

Dr. Reese set the girl down on the bed and Monique rushed to start an IV, “Let’s get her on the monitors, and get her changed into a gown,” Sarah instructed, “And Maggie?”

Maggie looked up from where she was conversing with the girl’s uncle.

“Page Dr. Bekker, Miranda is a patient of her’s, and get Miranda’s parents here as soon as possible,” She looked back towards the girl, “Miranda? My name is Dr. Reese, I’m going to help you feel better.”

“It hurts,” She cried, clutching at her chest.

“I know, I know, we’re going to figure out why,” Dr. Reese cooed softly, before taking on a more serious tone with Monique, “Get a CBC, BMP, urinalysis, 12-lead EKG, and get her on oxygen until Dr. Bekk-”

“Talking about me?” Dr. Bekker startled Dr. Reese, “My ears were itching. Miranda, did you miss me? Is that why you’re back so soon?”

Miranda giggled through the pain at that, and Dr. Bekker smiled. Dr. Reese almost allowed herself to feel endeared by the rare display of kindness, but quickly regained composure.

“Maggie, where are we with her parents?”

“They’re on their way, but they said to do whatever it takes to help Miranda,” Maggie called back, and Dr. Bekker nodded.

“What seems to be the problem, Mindy?” Dr. Bekker pulled her stethoscope off of her neck, and pressed the drum to Miranda’s chest, and listened thoughtfully.

“I felt weird and then fell down. My chest hurts real bad,” She complained, “I can’t breathe.”

“Let’s get an echocardiogram,” Dr. Bekker noted to Monique, who nodded, and started to set up the ultrasound machine, “Does it hurt more when you breathe?”

Miranda shook her head.

She’s so gentle with her.

Sarah smiled.

“Okay, I’m going to look at your heart with this special tool, you’ve done this before,” Dr. Bekker assured, before squeezing the gel onto the girl’s chest and pressing the ultrasound wand down.

She can be gentle. And kind.

“Psych residents, I swear. God, isn’t anyone in this hospital competent?”

Sarah was shocked back to reality by Ava, who was snapping her fingers at her, “Dr. Reese? What tests did you order?”

“Uh… CBC, BMP, urinalysis, and a 12-lead-EKG?” She trembled, her voice seeming more questioning than answering.

“Okay,” She said quietly, focused on the ultrasound.

A few minutes of quiet later, Dr. Bekker put the wand away, “Clean her up, and,” Dr. Bekker looked back at Miranda, “And if I remember correctly, your popsicle of choice is cherry?” She winked at Miranda, removed her gloves, and helped herself to hand sanitizer off the wall. Dr. Reese nodded at Monique, who was wiping the girl off, and left as well.

“Um…” Dr. Reese started, “What do you think?”

“Transfer her up to the PICU and let me know when her parents get here,” Dr. Bekker told Maggie, before turning to Dr. Reese, “I think she’s in congestive heart failure,” She shrugged, “Did you see the ultrasound? She has a complete atrioventricular septal defect, she’s been my patient for the past year, we knew this was coming.”

“Why didn’t you operate earlier?”

“Her parents wanted to wait,” Ava shrugged and rolled her eyes, “Nobody wants to put their four year old daughter through open heart surgery. But now,” She gestured back towards the room, “Their five year old daughter is going to go through open heart surgery today.”

“Well is she going to be okay?”

“If I can get her in for- I’m sorry,” She interrupted herself, “Why do you care?”

“She’s…” Sarah balled part of her coat up in her hand, “She’s my patient, I just-”

“Not anymore she’s not,” Ava huffed, “Thanks for not killing her. Wish I could say the same for Mr. Nearling.”

Ava flounced off.

Sarah watched her leave, and turned to Maggie, who pointed at treatment 1.

“Ear infection.”

Dr. Reese nodded, grabbing the tablet the charge nurse was holding out, and heading to treatment 1.

By lunch, she had treated three ear infections, a gunshot wound, a miscarriage, and sent a psychosis patient up to the psych ward. By the time Maggie sent her off for her lunch break, she had practically forgotten about Ava.

Dr. Charles was waiting for her when she opened the door to see him, and he gave her a tight-lipped smile, “How was it?”

“Uh, good,” She sat across from him, and he pulled out his own lunch while she unpacked hers, “I saw Dr. Bekker.”

“Oh? How was that?”

Sarah tapped her foot, “One of her CHD patients came in, um…” She took a bite of her sandwich, “I ordered some tests for her. She was snarky about it when I talked to her afterwards though.”

Dr. Charles shrugged, “Well, Ava will always be Ava, regardless of-”

“She said, um… She thanked me for not killing the patient and said she wished she could say the same for Mr. Nearling.”

He sighed, and nodded, “Well, it’s only been a few days. She’ll get over it. You guys were good friends before, you’ll be good friends after a while..”

“Good friends?” She questioned, “What makes you say that?”

“Well, y’know,” He motioned back and forth with his hands, “You’d chat, you seemed to be happy when you saw her, she teased you a bit. All of Ava’s telltale friendship signs.”

Sarah was quiet, instead choosing to take a bite of her sandwich and chew thoughtfully.

“Tell me, Sarah, do you like Ava?”

“What do you mean?” Sarah asked, carefully.

“Like… You know, are you interested in her? Romantically?”

Sarah choked on her sandwich, coughing a few times.

“Remember to chew, Dr. Reese,” Dr. Charles reprimanded.

“I don’t like her,” Sarah defended, “I don’t care about her. I deserve better. If I still liked her after she talked to me like that, even if I liked her in the first place, I’d be crazy.”

Dr. Charles shrugged, taking a bite of his salad.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?”

“The shrug.”

“What do you think it means?”

“Did you do Yolanda’s intake?”

“Who?”

Sarah nodded, stuffing her half-eaten lunch back into the bag and tossing it in the trash.

“Sarah, you haven’t finished your lunch-”

“Not hungry, I’ll see you around,” Sarah started to leave, but Dr. Charles stopped her.

“I’m supposed to pass a note on for you.”

-

-

(A/N) come back tomorrow for pt 2 lol

[korpuskat]

Kinktober Day 3 - Overhaul/Reader

[Ao3 Mirror]

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,134 Summary: Overhaul’s curiosity drives him to explore your other holes. Contains: Previous Noncon, dubcon, kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome; Sounding, lowkey edging, all kinds of mental health issues Reader is super not doing okay. =====

Time oozes past, runs backwards and slides forwards in an endless haze. There are no clocks in your room, no window to judge the days. Even your meals, which are usually brought by whichever unfortunate underling has met his ire lately, come at what feels like random intervals. All you have is the right now the exact moment you exist in, timed by the beating of your heart, the next inhale in your chest-- but then again, there are the times when even those lose count. When his hand touches you, unwrites you- until your heart beats again, some unknown time later, and the pattern resumes.

Day has lost meaning entirely when you measure time in when he'll come next. With knife or- more recently- with the occasional meal, that's all the interaction that even registers in the ever-slowing cogs of your mind. It's the lack of stimulation, you tell yourself- the absolute isolation with nothing to separate one moment from another except for his presence, his voice, his touch.

And just when you think you'll lose the last scraps of your sanity to the monotonous nothingness (he's been busy, he said last time, in the lab, wouldn't need fresh samples from you for a while. you had told him okay in a flat voice that made one sharp eyebrow quirk up) he appears again. The door to your room, your cell, cracking open until a rectangle of white light washes over you.

You get up too fast, walk with him. To have something to do, is what you tell yourself. He'll force you there anyway, might as well keep it painless for now. But that's not why and you know it.

He doesn't have to guide you to the table, which earns you another strange look. You sit there, fidget, feel slightly cold against the vinyl and wait as he swaps his full beak-like mask for a simple black cloth one. He doesn't bother if he's just getting blood, the beak mask won't get in the way of that. You stomach twists, knows it's something more again.

You wait for Chrono to come in, to fit you into the restraints and take notes, play nurse to Overhaul's mad doctor. But Chrono does not arrive and white gloved-hands tap the arm rest. Ah. It's one of those days.

You comply, let him strap your arms down one by one, the leather belt tied down too tight, makes your fingertips tingle.

It used to be a distraction- these days. A reason to remember why you hate him, a vile act that kept you sane until- until it just became another set of sensations, another chance for you to leave your gray, meaningless cell. The ache in your head sharpens as he pulls the next strap around your other wrist.

"I missed you." You don't know why you say it. Maybe it's just because there's no one else you can say it to. He's all you have left, after all. You meet his eyes in some vain hope he'll stabilize you, stop your mind from capsizing in the ocean of trauma he's created. "Does that... mean there's something wrong with me?"

"You're sick." is all he says, resumes his task.

"Oh." When he moves on to the strap for your torso, one that cuts into your skin just below your rib cage, it again makes your stomach flip. He usually leaves that one free; he must really need you to be still today. You flex your fingers, push blood back into them. "You'll fix me, won't you?"

His hands don't pause this time, keeps right on working. "Of course. I'm going to fix everyone."

He starts with your ankles then, adjusting your legs until they're in the right position before tying them down too. The brush of his gloves against your thigh makes you jump, but you force yourself to relax before he can chide you. The thin material of your shift pushes up past your waist with no resistance- and like so many times before, you are bare to him. He takes something black from the tray table- and you can't stop yourself.

"Would you..." Your voice trails off. You expect him to just ignore you, but find his golden eyes have slid from the warm place between your legs to your face. Tears fall without warning and shame makes you turn your face into your shoulder (even though you know well enough he's never minded your crying before). You continue before you annoy him, voice tiny and foreign, "talk to me?"

His hand smooths across your thigh; if you were not tied down, it would be as though he were keeping you from closing your legs. "Why?"

"Please..." His thumb, still covered in the cloth of his glove, prods between your labia, draws outward, opens you up before him. Cool air graces your pussy and you shiver, bite your lip. What could you say, really? That he's the only person you've spoken with in you don't know how long, that even as you've bled out on this very table you strain to listen to him speak with Chrono just to find some twinge of normalcy? You meet his gaze again and beg. "Overhaul..."

Two fingers prod at your entrance, soak in the slickness there and draw it up over your slit. You tremble with shame, rejection the worst thing he's done to you since the last time he unmade your body. And then, as he rubs your clit in clinical circles, he starts. "I found something online." Relief washes over you. He eyes your thigh as it relaxes under his palm. "A while ago, actually, but I had no need to explore it."

He presses one finger into you. The cloth chafes in its typical way. except... not. It's easier, slicker than it normally is when he starts. "Curiosity has a way of sticking around, even when you'd prefer it not to." A second finger joins in. "Is that why you want me to talk? You're curious about me or what I'm doing?"

"N-No, but," You force out. He doesn't look up as you speak this time, continues on with his movements. Usually he'd stop by now, as soon as you were wet enough to make it comfortable for him. "What are you- ah," He curls his fingers, makes your thighs strain against the straps. "curious about?"

Overhaul hums, withdraws the fingers inside you, but still strokes over your clit as he takes something from the black case he'd grabbed before. "Your Gräfenberg spot is particularly sensitive." And with the same hand he holds up a thin metal rod. "I read it can also be stimulated through urethral penetration." With his thumb on your clit you struggle to make sense of what's going on past the weak rocking of your hips.

He stops then, leaves your pussy pulsing and warm, as he retrieves a tube of lubricant from the tray. You're wet enough, aren't you? You certainly feel like you are, had practically been grinding against his fingers. But he doesn't pour it onto you; he squeezes out a thick glob onto the metal rod, holds it up so you can see as he smears the clear gel over its length. Only when he's satisfied that it is covered does he wipe the excess off onto your pussy. The cold makes you tense- as does its location. Too low to be on your clit, but too high to be for your entrance.

It didn't seem like him to miss on something so obvious- and his hands come back between your legs. One keeps your labia spread wide, while the other- you tense, peer down your body as best you can. The angle doesn't help, gives you no clue except- except that his other hand is held away from your body, the rod between his fingertips as something prods against you.

"Tell me how it feels." It presses in. Stinging- that's the only way you can describe it. Different than when Overhaul didn't stretch you enough. At least your pussy had been stretched before, was built to accommodate that at all. This tiny hole was not.

"Hurts," You huff.

He stops. "How badly?" Your pussy clenches on instinct, a feeble attempt to force the intruder out of your body. Between your legs, the rod bobs midair.

"Uncomfortable. Bearable." Perhaps your pain scale has been knocked loose from one too many uses of his Quirk. As strange as it feels, it's doesn't even register compared to the moment between the touch of his fingers and actual death. Overhaul begins to slide it in further and you whine, "Feels weird."

"Give it a moment." He, however, does not- he pushes the rod deeper, that stinging feeling crawling further inside your body. It doesn't hurt, it just feels... wrong. That innate sense of knowing it's not meant to be used that way, your body trying too hard to reject it. He goes on, on until he stops- apparently deciding it is in deep enough. "Now?"

"Still stings." You mutter, clench around it again. "Feels like... like I need to, uh." Your cheeks heat and you bite your lip. You shouldn't be embarrassed about it, considering what he's doing to you, but you still can't bring yourself to finish the sentence.

"Perhaps, you just need some additional stimulation." For a moment you fear what that means exactly- and then his thumb is settling over your clit again. He strokes you with slow circles, draws pleasure with his touch until the discomfort in your urethra fades in favor of the soft tingling in your clit. It's different, somehow. With the space just below those sensitive nerves stuffed full, it makes the sensation that much more acute.

"Feels weird," You murmur, twist against the restraints. "Full."

"Do you enjoy it?" His thumb never breaks pace, never speeds up despite the growing agitation in your hips.

"I don't..." His fingernail catches on the hood of your clit through his glove and your voice falters. "Don't know... I..." You pinch your eyes closed, pull against the binds of your wrists as the pleasure in your clit spreads, warms you from the inside out- "I'm close."

His touch leaves you and the whimper that escapes you makes you duck your head in shame. "Not yet," He says, no trace of judgement in his voice. "Need to test your internal sensitivity with the sound inserted."

There's no time to come down, just his fingers pushing into you. At first it hurts, makes that stinging sensation come back, but as they slide in you again, he spreads them to rest on either side of the rod.

"It's..." You start, but can't find the right word for it. Different, strange, weird, not right- but that's not quite it. His fingers move, reignite that spark in your belly, still suspended and waiting to pop-

"Tell me." He says again.

"It's, I don't-" You shake your head, writhe against the straps because it's all you can do- that or watch his covered face as he undoes you in a new way.

"How does it-" He curls his fingers.

"Oh!" He pushes up against the rod. No longer moving parallel, he squishes that sensitive front wall between his fingers and the metal sound. You place the feeling now. "It's good! It's good!"

"Don't interrupt me." He chides, but doesn't stop the motion, keeps milking that spot for all it has while you try and fail to be quiet. "How does it feel?"

"It's-" You break off into a keen.

"Tell me and I'll make you cum."

"Feels full." You gasp, throw your head back. "Makes everything feel shah!- sharper!" His fingers curl again, stroke along the length of the rod until you're shivering, "Makes it tighter and I-" Your nails bite into the vinyl, legs kicking uselessly and you can't breathe, "Please, please, Overhaul, I-"

His thumb strokes your clit, falls in perfect rhythm with his fingers. "Good, now cum." Your whole lower body seizes, clenches around the metal, each pulse of your cunt making the end of it jump between his hands. Every throb of your clit, every time he curls his fingers, it's like a lightning rod, draws the pleasure out until you're choking for air. He keeps going, lets you ride out your high as he counts under his breath, measures out how long it takes for your thighs to stop quaking. Counts again after he withdraws his hands, watches and waits as your body shifts, twitches in the aftershocks.

He does not, however, wait before unbuckling his belt and pressing the head of his cock- hot and hard and swollen against your sensitive, still-fluttering entrance. "Should check if it's any different with this, shouldn't we?"

=====

If you like my writing, please consider reblogging or leaving me a tip!

[hitsuackerman]

What in the World? (Akaashi Keiji x Reader) pt.4

Part 4 of WINTW? :D Enjoy!

Akaashi’s lineup: @alluring-akaashi​ @oikawalmart-hq​ @extrasugafree​ @bbykiyoomi​ @apricotjihyo​ @simpformiya @colorseeingchick @something-that-idk

links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 5

“How is she?” Todoroki asked as he witnessed the scene before him.

None of them were expecting your quirk to go rampant for a few seconds. Being kept under surveillance, it was a miracle that UA signed the papers to let Recovery Girl be in charge. With your quirk’s sudden outburst, a good portion of her office was now upside down. The closest bed to yours was flipped over, the machine monitoring your vital signs now rested on the floor, and the window separating you from the rest now torn into shreds.

“Her vitals are still normal.” Recovery Girl said as she fixed the machine. Making sure that everything was as it was, she sighed and stared at your sleeping body. In all her years as a nurse, this would have to be the first time she would experience this. “Todoroki-san. Your father’s lab sent me some EEG results. I went over them a few hours ago.”

Todoroki nodded. His fist slowly balling.

“It perplexes me.” She pointed her index at you. “Her brain activity shows no sign of being in a commative state. In fact, it’s the opposite. The results told me that her brain is as active as ever.”

“Then why is she sleeping?” Bakugo asked. All this time he had been quietly observing. “If this extra’s brain is acting up, why the hell isn’t she responding?”

“I still have to run a few tests. And maybe call a few colleagues. It’s only been the second day, with a quirk like hers, it may be normal for her body to remain in a constant state of consciousness.”

Deku was about to speak up till he saw the faint glow of yellow on your palms once more. Everyone in the room prepared and distanced themselves from your sleeping body but nothing extreme happened. Staring at how the glow was steady and disappeared after a few seconds, collective hums and tiny gasps filled the room. With nothing happening next, Recovery Girl motioned for the three boys to leave.

Inside the classroom, everyone was waiting for the doors to slide open. When it did, everyone began bombarding them with questions till Bakugo finally yelled at them to shut their mouths. Commanding Todoroki to tell them, the half and half boy began.

“Recovery Girl said that (y/n)’s brain doesn’t show signs of being in a coma.”

“The girl’s quirk went haywire in the clinic. Either she’s sleep fighting or her quirk is getting out of control. You two were handed a mission, right? What exactly happened half and half? You hidin’ somethin’ or shit?”

“Kacchan, Todoroki-kun already explained what happened.” Deku tried to calm down the angry pomeranian. It worked but he received a snarl. Looking at Todoroki, Deku asked. “You’ve known her longest, do you think she’ll be okay?”

“She was in pain when I last saw her conscious. It angers me that there’s nothing much I can do but to hope that she’ll recover.”

~

Meanwhile, in another dimension, you were now preparing the gym with Yukie and Kaori. Dragging the cart out, you had been assigned to take care of the volleyballs. Pumping and making sure that there was enough air in them, you felt glad for the mini work out. It had been too long since you last worked out and even this amount was barely enough to maintain your body.

Asking a member, he hesitantly agreed into letting you become the new ball boy.

“(y/n)-chan? You sure you wanna be incharge of the balls?” Konoha asked.

“Yeah. There’s more than enough managers and it would be good exercise for me.” It was a shocker that Konoha even talked to you. Among the team, he was one of the few people you didn’t bother to research about. All you knew was he could cheer Bokuto up and that was that. Satisfied with your reply, you watched as he excused himself and walked back to begin his warm up.

At the end of the day, your body was far from sore. Not even an increase in your heart rate. Though, you did sweat but only due to the heat the gym radiated. Now that you were inside the girl’s locker room, you stretched your limbs only to be left unsatisfied.

“You moved and caught the balls like there was no tomorrow yet you barely broke a sweat.” Kaori commented as she took her shirt off. Yukie chimed in and agreed with the statement.

“I used to work out a lot back in Musutafu.” Taking your shirt off, the two girls gasped at the sight of your toned body. It had only dawned you that this would be the first time you were changing with them. You always made it a habit to enter the gym earlier than the others.

“Were you in a gang? Why do you have a lot of scratches on your body, (y/n)?” Yukie took a step closer and feasted on all your small battle scars.

Mentally cursing that you did not think this moment through, you chewed on your inner cheek and tried to think of an explanation.

“I think it’s pretty obvious that I’m a clutz, Yukie-san.”

“A big one at that.” She pointed to a particular one. The most painful one of them all. Running from your shoulder to the tip of your breastbone, the memory of Toga digging her knife across your skin made you shudder. Seeing how you shuddered, Yukie felt guilt for intruding such personal space.

“It’s fine, Yukie-san~ No need to apologize.” You stopped her before she could speak. “Those were just… tough times ya know? But, this doesn’t hurt or even affect me that much anymore.”

“Well, you better get dressed quickly,” Kaori commented as she giggled. “Akaashi-san just sent you a message saying he’s waiting by the gate.”

Changing quickly, you could feel the stares behind you.

“Nothing is going on, okay? We’re just neighbors.” You pouted with your eyebrows furrowing.

“So you mean to say, you have the strength to walk past his beautiful face?”

“Yes, Kaori-san.” You replied with a deadpan voice. Yes, you admired him during the first day here in this dimension but that was it.

“And that none of those athletic boys caught your attention?”

“None at all.” Shrug.

The two girls shared a quiet giggle. Squinting your eyes, you stared at them till they waved you off and told you to have fun on your walk back home with the setter. Now that you were walking towards the gate, you checked up on your quirk once more. The pulling sensation was a little stronger, the glow a little brighter, but no significant changes. When you saw Akaashi leaning on the wall, his gunmetal blue eyes looked silver under the moonlit night.

“Shall we?”

“Yeah.”

The walk began and it was wrapped in silence once more. But, this time, the silence was comfortable. It gave you enough time to gather your thoughts. Every now and then, you would ask a school related question to the setter and immediately a response was given. Passing by a cafe, your eyes were glued to the (favorite pastry) being showcased. On record time, your stomach sang and your cheeks turned red.

“You hungry?” Akaashi asked as he stared at the (favorite pastry). “I don’t mind eating dinner out. The food this cafe offers is pretty tasty.”

“Can we?” A wide grin formed on the corners of your mouth. When he nodded his head, you grabbed on to his hand and dragged him inside the cafe. The scent of brewed coffee accompanied by the soothing melodies of soft jazz reminded you of Kiri and Bakugo’s study sessions.

Bringing him to the counter, Akaashi’s eyes focused on both your hands. There was no spark now, but this time a small pulling sensation took its place. Judging that it might have been the effects of practice he brushed it off and enjoyed the warmth your hold had to offer.

“I’ll have pasta and a slice of that (favorite pastry) please!” The giddiness in your voice made the cashier smile.”What about you, Akaashi-san?”

“Caesar salad and a pork chop.”

Offering to pay for the food, you let go of his hand and fished out your pocket. It wasn’t too expensive and the money your o-mother gave you was slowly piling up. Getting the number, you pointed to a small booth that had enough privacy the two of you would appreciate.

“Do you eat here a lot, Akaashi-san?”

“Not quite.” The way he sat down was very proper compared to yours. Though he didn’t really mind. “I do like their latte’s here. What about you, Firecracker?”

“Firecracker?” You raised a brow and your palms began to sweat.

“Have you eaten here before?”

“Nope. This would have to be my first time.” Your eyes scanned the decoration. It was homey and rustic. The lights above you looked as if the designer had a lot of glass bottles at home. “You’re pretty good at dealing with Bokuto-san’s personality.”

“Barely. I just grew up with him.”

“Were you in the volleyball club in middle school?”

“Yeah.” He began to play with his fingers. “But my teammates weren’t as dedicated. What about you?”

“Well, I didn’t join any club.” You placed your elbow on the table and rested your chin on your palm. Your stare glued to the boy sitting across you. “But I did like aiding the support department from time to time. They built some pretty interesting gears that helped me and my friends cope with the curriculum.”

“Gears?” The look of confusion was amusing. It was subtle but clear.

“Yeah.” You smirked. “UA was pretty brutal when it came to subjects. Being in 1-A was interesting and the smallest trip caused a lot of chaos. It was fun, scared the shit out of us, but the experience was worth it.”

“You’re talking as if you have special abilities.” His eyebrow was the one raised now. The playful glimmer in your eyes evident.

“Are you saying I’m not special, Akaashi-san?”

“I never implied that, (l/n)-san.”

The both of you stared each other down for a while. Being with Akaashi in a private booth was a different experience. His extra shirt was a little loose on him, thus hiding his well formed shoulders. A little sad, you had to admit. Being given the opportunity to stare at his face, you had to give him praise. He really was gorgeous despite looking a tad tired from the heinous practice.

“I’m kidding. Ya got me.” You pulled out a tissue and threw it on the table. A white flag, so to speak. “I wasn’t into sports. I was mostly in the background and focused on my studies. Boring right?”

“Far from it.” The corner of his lip curled up for the slightest bit. That small smile made your tummy feel weird and tingly.

“Indeed. I’m far from boring.” You winked. “I’m probably the most interesting person here in this dimension called Tokyo.”

“You’re rubbing ass now.”

“So the very proper and dainty Akaashi Keiji knows how to swear?” You feigned surprise and couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the words he had just said.

“Ass is not a swear word, (l/n) (y/n).”

“You’re right. It’s something you're blessed with.” Fuck. You got carried away. Biting your tongue and clearing your throat, the food finally arrived. Hopefully he’d let it slip and just enjoy the meal. “ANYWAY~ Thanks for letting me drag you in here.”

“My pleasure.”

The meal was pleasant and the embarrassment of complimenting his ass forgotten. Yet, the feeling of finally telling someone about a few things back home was a huge weight off your shoulders. Having to bottle up so much knowledge that you’re a complete stranger in this world was straining.

Akaashi noticed it too. How your shoulders relaxed and your features as well indicated that you had just taken a load off your problems. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was but he was pretty sure that there was more to what you had just told him. Not to mention your choice of words were far from being carefully selected, almost as if it was natural to you. Swallowing his thoughts, he continued savoring the food and the enigma before him.

Now standing on the street, in the middle of your houses, you stared at the gap between the two buildings. 5 meters was your estimated distance. Not too far and not too close, a pretty standard distance based on the houses in the neighborhood.

“Thanks for walking me home, Akaashi-san.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, (l/n)-san.”

“Ya know, we might as well drop the honorifics. Neighbors, same year, same team.” You were never one to like formalities anyway. “But, I’m cool with keeping it tho.”

“In that case, I can agree with your proposal.” Akaashi now walked towards his side of the area. With his back facing you, he glanced over his shoulder and bowed. “Goodnight, Firecracker.”

Firecracker. That was more of a Bakugo thing, if you were to be honest.

But, coming from his mouth?

You were more than willing to let him call you that.

- - - - -

so did ya’ll like this chapter? we now have a picture as to how our BNHA friends are doing~ Akaashi is still accepting in his line up :) comment if youd like to be a part of it!

[hoboal87]

Elastic Heart Chapter One

Elastic Heart Chapter One

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, John Winchester, OFCs

Pairing(s): None

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N sees a familiar set of eyes in the crowd, and remembers the first time she saw them and how they changed her life.

Word Count: 4300+

Warnings: Show level violence, cursing, pre-Stanford era Winchesters

Notes: Series will be mostly canon compliant, taking place during season 8/9. Also, for purposes of this fic Sam was born in '84 instead of '83.

Please give a comment or reblog and let me know what you think!

Elastic Heart Masterlist

Chapter One - Senior Year

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N”

I don’t hear my name being called, I’m in my own world, looking out into the crowd for a set of familiar eyes. I spot them three rows back and smile. It’s been too long since I’ve seen them, and I miss the days where I would see those eyes nearly every day.

Life as a nursing student consists of going to class, lab work, interning at a hospital, and occasionally sleeping. I’ve spent the past two years doing nothing but that. I’ve always been one to do things early, but this was the one thing that, for once, I was on par with my peers. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. From the first time I saw those eyes, they altered my life, sending me down a path that I never planned to be on. Taking longer than we had thought, but eventually, I got back on track.

Finish school and get my fresh start. That had been my goal for the past two years. Move on, with or without those eyes in my life. I wanted them, but I knew that logically, it couldn’t happen. Our lives were too different, especially now. I lost my chance of having them with me always; now, I could only cherish the holidays and long weekends that allowed us to be together.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N,” the announcer’s voice contains a bit of urgency this time, drawing my attention. I step across the stage, shaking my supervisor’s hand, and receive my metaphorical diploma. I look back out into the audience and connect with those eyes again, wide and filled with joy. I take my seat and think back to the first time I saw them and how they changed my life forever.

Fall, 2002

This was it, the first day of my senior year. This is the year I will prove to everyone that I am no longer a kid. This is the year, mom and dad will see that I can act like an adult and make ‘good choices’ but, I’m determined to have just a little fun.

For the last two years, mom and dad have insisted that I take extra courses and go to summer school to ensure I graduate not only with good grades but early. I’ll graduate in the spring and be off to college in the fall. All I really want is to wait, take a year or two, experience life outside of my parents’ house.

I make the point to do as many high school activities as I can. Activities that they discouraged me from doing for the last two years; choir, volleyball, anything that will get me out of the house but still considered a school activity. I joined the decorating committee, wanting to participate in homecoming as much as possible. I know as long as I do nothing life-altering, I’m gonna be free in May.

“Be mindful of your grades, Y/N,” dad said, reading over all the consent forms, “if they slip, you will need to cut these extracurricular activities.”

“They won’t slip, dad.” I roll my eyes. “It’s my last year, let me have a bit of fun, please?”

“Your average drops below an A, and I’m pulling you out of each one of these clubs, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” I mull over telling him the other part of my plan. “I was… thinking about getting a job.” I look down, not wanting to make eye contact. “Something part-time?”

“I don’t think that’s the best idea, Y/N,” mom enters the room, “You’re going to be so busy already, tell her Rob.”

“Your mother has a point, and if they accept you to all these clubs, when will you even have time?”

“I may not even end up in the choir or the volleyball team,” I argue, “and if I don’t I’ll have a free period every day, I can talk to the counselor about making it my last class and—it’s my Senior Year, please, don’t you guys think I deserve a little more credit than this? I should get to experience a little bit of independence, don’t you think? I’m gonna be away at college in a year, I’m probably gonna have some on-campus job, I need to learn how to balance between the two.” I catch my breath, hoping that they will agree.

“Fine,” dad sighs heavily, “the same deal goes. Your grades slip, no more working. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes!” I throw my arms around him, “Thank you!”

“Maybe you could get a job at the clinic,” mom chimes in, “get some experience in the field?”

“I don’t think anyone wants a sixteen-year-old working at the clinic, Sarah. Maybe at the drugstore, though?”

“Yeah,” I sit on the couch, “maybe.”

I discreetly start looking at apartments that could be for rent after graduation. I look on the outskirts of town and find a garage apartment that a very sweet older lady agrees to rent to me if it is still unoccupied over the summer. Finding a job gets put on the back burner as the school year moves into full swing. It turns out I can’t sing, and I suck at volleyball, but the coach offers me the position of manager, allowing me to still participate with the team at pep rallies and travel with them on away games. As the season comes to a close, and with Thanksgiving break around the corner, I decide it’s time to actively look for a job.

The trouble is finding someone willing to hire a 16-year-old high school student with no experience. I try some local retail stores, but I know that mom and dad will never go for the hours they want me to work. I walk into Joe’s Burgers, my favorite place to get some dinner and continue looking through the classifieds.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” I look over and wave to the man behind the counter.

“Hey, Dan, can I get a Bacon—"

“Your usual?” he cuts me off, smiling.

“Yes, please,” I look down sheepishly, handing him the exact amount of money without being told the total.

“Whatcha got there?” he nods towards the paper that’s now on the counter as he hands me my receipt.

“Oh, I’m just looking for a job,” I tuck the paper under my arms. “Need to earn some money so I can get outta this town after graduation.”

“What’s wrong with the town,” his face grows serious, “I’ve lived here my whole life.”

“Shit—I mean, n-nothing. Fuck."

“Y/N/N!” Dan bursts into laughter, “I’m just messing with you! You think you’re the first person who hates living here? We’re a small-ass town in the middle of nowhere.”

“You’re such a jerk,” I say, relieved, “I’ll be in my spot, okay?” He tries to contain his laughter as I walk away, making my way to my usual table. I flip through the pages, seeing nothing that would really work for me.

“You know Joe has been talking about hiring another cashier,” Dan says, bringing my food over, “and you’re practically here all the time anyway, you may as well make some money while you’re at it. You want me to talk to him?”

“Really? Do you think he’d hire me? I can’t stay late on week-nights because of school, mom and dad would kill me.”

“Yeah, we need someone to work the register, Jana can’t do it all herself. Whaddya think?”

“Oh, my god Dan, that would be amazing!” I get up and throw my arms around him to give him a hug. I watch as Dan walks to the back of the restaurant, after a few minutes he returns, giving me the thumbs-up. Before I leave, he gives me paperwork to fill out and a uniform, telling me to return the next day for training.

For three days, I train, working with Jana on the register. She is a few years older than me, with absolutely no filter. She always has me hunched over, laughing at something she has said or done. The lunches are busier than usual with the break. On Friday, she decides it’s time to leave me on my own, ‘best way to learn,’ she quips.

I’ve never been a social butterfly, and the thought of having to deal with customers on my own genuinely terrifies me for a few moments. After giving myself a small pep talk, I turn around to see three large men waiting for me.

The shortest of the three looks at me, and leans over the counter, “I’m here, what are your other two wishes?” he asks, flashing me a wink.

“I’m sorry?” I can’t believe this guy is serious.

“My brother and I were wondering,” he gestures to the tallest of the three, “if it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

“W-what?” I feel the heat pooling in my cheeks.

“Dean, knock it off, we’re here to work.” the older man behind him smacks him upside his head, and I have to stifle my laughter. He offers a sympathetic smile toward me.

“Did your mother drop you on your head when you were a baby?” I shot back; it was the only thing I could think of, albeit an awful comeback.

“It’s okay, just blink if you want me,” I stare straight into those green eyes for a solid 10 seconds before turning away.

“Dean, leave the girl alone, how old are you doll?” he asks, turning to me.

“Sixteen,” I say, watching as he rolls his eyes at the other two.

“See, are you trying to go to jail, son?” he says, looking at me apologetically “I’m sorry my sons are two walking hormones.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” the tall one huffs. Green-eyes shrugs and rubs the back of his head.

“Don’t even Sam, I heard you when we walked in.” Their dad grabs them by the shirts and drags them both to stand in front of me. I couldn’t believe my eyes, this man grabbing his two grown sons like they were pre-teens, “Now apologize to…” he looks at my name tag, “… Y/N.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, didn’t mean to offend you,” Green-eyes says insincerely.

“That’s fine, it’s part of the job, learning to deal with frat boys who love to mess with townies,” I smile back curtly.

“What the fu—” green-eyes is clearly trying to contain his anger, but his dad chuckles at the remark, and his brother can hardly control himself.

“Yeah, frat boy, don’t mess with the townie,” the younger one laughs, pushing his shaggy brown hair away from his face, revealing gleaming hazel eyes flecked with hints of green and blue surrounded by dark full lashes.

“Listen, Y/N,” green-eyes looks at my name tag again, “we ain’t no frat boys, in fact, we’re here becau—”

“All right, Dean, that’s enough.” His dad gives him a stern look that is clearly a silent conversation. “Since we’re off to such a wonderful start, let’s start over, yeah?”

I nod politely. These guys are clearly passing through and will be gone in a matter of hours or days, but Joe wants us to make all people, even the ones we’ll probably never see again, feel welcome.

“I’m John, you already know Dean,” he reaches his hand out towards the tall one, “and this is Sam. We’re actually looking into the recent animal-related deaths,” he says, producing a Fish and Wildlife Badge. I study it for a moment before handing it back. “We’re interviewing some of the local business owners and residents in the area of the attacks. Have you heard or seen anything usual, smelled anything weird, anything that comes to mind?”

“Oh.” I look at the three men; here I was being a bitch to the people trying to help. “Um, I just started working here a few days ago, animal attacks?” I look back up to John, who nods. “The only animals around here are coyotes, but even they’re pretty rare. I haven’t heard anything, but I keep to myself. Joe might know something, he’s the owner and knows everything about everyone.” I offer a smile.

“Is Joe in today?” John asks. His grey eyes hold so much pain as he looks at me.

“Um… yeah. He may have a few minutes now that we’ve slowed down. I can see if he can come talk to you?”

“That’d be great, thanks, Y/N.”

“Please, Y/N/N,” I say, blushing, covering my nametag, “No one really calls me Y/N.”

“Y/N/N,” he repeats, “I’d really like to speak with Joe if it’s not a problem.”

“Yeah, shit. Let me go get him,” I say, walking towards the back. “Hey Jana, I’m gonna go get Joe. Watch the register?”

“I got it,” she hollers back.

“Dude! She’s 16!” I hear who I assume is Sam whispering loudly. “Shut up! How was I supposed to know that?!”

“Dean, she’s obviously not 18. Stick to girls your own age,” John responds. “Sammy—.”

I can no longer hear the men as I reach the door to Joe’s office. Jana and Dan had both told me that his door usually stayed open, today it was not only closed, but it was locked as well. I knock, waiting for him to answer. He looks a little frazzled when he opens the door, but smiles at me, “Hey, Y/N/N, what’s up?”

“There’s a guy from Fish and Wildlife; he’s looking into the recent animal attacks? He’s asking about strange occurrences or something? I don’t know, but I know you pay attention to that kind of stuff, so he wants to talk to you.”

“I—shit, yeah, let him know I’ll be out in a few minutes,” he straightens his shirt and closes the door behind him.

I nod and head back to the front of the building. I watch as the boys and their father seem to be in deep discussion. Turning away when I realize Dean has caught me staring. I gather their food, and as I walk towards their table, I can hear that for some reason, I am the current topic of discussion, specifically, my age.

“Actually, I’ll be 17 in a month,” I quip, dropping their food, unsure of why I am engaging with this odd group of men.

“Huh?” Dean looks at me curiously.

“Well, for some reason the two of you are overly concerned with my age, I’ll be 17 next month.”

“Still illegal, Dean,” Sam smirks.

“Yeah, but right up your alley, Sammy,” Dean winks at him.

“Boys, stop treating this girl like she’s a piece of meat,” their father doesn’t even look up from his plate.

I can’t help myself, I’m usually not this brazen, but something about these outsiders coming in, I have to say it, “Well, here in the Great State of Texas the age of consent is 17, it’s not technically illegal,” and before I can stop myself I wink at Dean.

“Oh, Y/N, you are killing me here,” he says, bringing his hand to his chest. “Unfortunately, I’m gonna have to pass, but Sammy here,” Dean grabs Sam by the shoulders, “may be able to help you out.”

Sam blushes furiously; it’s actually adorable. I can feel the heat coming up in my own cheeks, and know if I stay any longer, they will see it very clearly.

“Joe’ll be out in a few minutes,” I say, turning to go back to the register. I walk away, adding a little sway in my hips as I know the younger men are watching. “Lemme know if there’s anything else I can get you,” I shoot another wink, this time in Sam’s direction.

“Thanks, Y/N/N.” John’s baritone voice carries through the restaurant.

I watch Joe take a seat with the three men, the younger boys listening and observing their father very carefully. I watch John grab something—a fork?— out of his pocket and discreetly place it in front of Joe. Why would he do such a thing? Joe and the men continue to speak for 10 minutes until the dinner rush starts, and Joe excuses himself.

The three men finish their burgers and leave the restaurant; concern etched on their faces as they have a heated conversation.

Throughout the dinner rush, I notice that Sam is stationed outside of the building. It looks as though he’s watching somebody. But every time I look up, his position has changed. After it grows dark, I can no longer see him outside; I realize I shouldn’t let him occupy my mind. Jana and I work furiously until a few hours later when we finally close.

“First day on your own,” Jana says, letting her hair down and hopping onto the counter. “You did good Y/N/N, only a couple mistakes.”

“Thanks, it’s not always gonna be like that, right?” I say, sighing, mimicking her actions with my own hair.

“Nah, I mean, the Friday and Saturdays will be, but unless it’s a school break, the nights are not usually too crazy,” she reassures me.

“Thank God,” I laugh, “what about the customers? Did you see those guys earlier? The ones talking to Joe?” I ask, hoping that she doesn’t pick up on the fact that I am blushing at the mention of the men.

“Oh, you mean the green-eyed one who was clearly hitting on you?” She smirks at me, “With the older guy and the really tall guy?”

“Yeah… you have an excellent memory…” I laugh, “he was so cheesy. ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’” I mock him. “I mean, he can’t think girls really fall for that? Even the tall one knew it was a bad line.” I blushed a little, thinking about them.

“Oh my god, you like him, green-eyes.” She gasps, “You wanna jump his bones,” she sang mockingly at me, “you love him!”

“Shut up,” I threw my apron at her playfully, “I do not want to jump his bones. Besides, I’m jailbait. He’s at least 21 or so.” Jana raises her eyebrow at me. “He basically told me he couldn’t.”

“So… you’re saying you would if he was younger?” she giggles.

“Jana! No! He’s not my type. He’s way too cocky—he probably thinks he’s God’s Gift to Women,” I mock him again.

“What about the tall one? He was gorgeous,” she offers, “And the dad? He’s hot, like I will so call him Daddy. Let him just—."

“That’s way too much information, Jana. Anyway, if green-eyes is too old, how on earth is the dad not even more wrong?”

“That’s what makes it so hot… like, the wrongness of it…” she says mock fanning herself. “Okay, so clearly, the giant is the one you’re gonna have to do. You can just climb on top—" she says, moving her whole body onto the counter, “and take him for a ride.”

“Jesus, Jana.” I try to suppress my embarrassed laughter. But I blush furiously at the thought of Sam, especially with the image that Jana just planted in my head. I cover my face with my hands as I try to compose myself.

“Oh my god, you are so red!” Jana laughs, “It’s the giant! He’s the one you lo-ove!”

“I don’t even know him! They’re just passing through. You know the type, no one actually moves here. Not for real, at least. They’ll be gone in a week.”

“Y/N/N, that’s why it’s perfect. Hook up, get all that pent-up frustration out of your system, and then you’ll go your separate ways,” she offers. “Wham-bam-thank you-ma’am.”

“I’m really not into that one-night stand stuff,” I say, “I mean, what’s the point?”

“Come on, Y/N/N, that’s the point. Sometimes you just need a release. It’s not like you’re gonna fall in love with some guy you just met and hook-up with once. I mean, you’ve hooked up with guys before, right?”

I shrug my shoulders.

“Oh, my God. Y/N/N, you’re not a virgin, are you?” she whispers so that Dan and Joe won’t hear. I nod, I didn’t have a problem with my own virginity, but other people did. I know I have plenty of time. And with how busy mom and dad keep me, I have no time for boys. “Oh, okay, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know. Besides, mom and dad don’t even like the thought of me dating; they’d make the guy ask for permission. It’s not that I would ever have time for it anyway. Either way, it’ll happen whenever it happens, and it will probably not be great the first time,” I laugh, trying to break the serious look on Jana’s face. “I have very low expectations, especially if he’s never done anything either. Most boys my age don’t know what they’re doing anyway.”

“Not to be all romantic or whatever, but you know it doesn’t have to be like that. Your first time doesn’t have to suck. It can be really nice if you get the right person.”

“I figure it will either be awesome or okay,” I laugh, “hope it’s awesome, but it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Okay, I’m gonna have one more mom moment with you, and then we can leave, okay?” she grows slightly serious, and I nod my head. “Bring condoms.” I choke out a laugh. “I’m serious. Don’t count on the guy to do it. And don’t trust the ‘pull-out’ method. Dudes always think they can time it right, and half the time…” she makes a gesture I don’t quite understand, I look at her confused. “Inside. Or at least not all the way out. And I’m sure getting pregnant isn’t a part of your grand plan.” She smiles softly. “If you ever need someone to talk about this stuff with, you can come to me, okay?”

“Thank you, if and when the day ever comes, I’ll be sure to tell you.” She raises her eyebrow. “I swear. Don’t count on it being anytime soon, though.”

Jana finishes counting the tips, and I count the register. We grab our bags, say goodbye to Dan, who’s still closing down, and Joe, who’s in the office looking at receipts.

Jana and I live about a block away from each other, and close enough to the restaurant that neither of us bothered driving. Every week it’s getting colder, and I know by the first week of December it will be too cold to walk home at night. But until then, Jana and I walk together, her house off of the main road that leads to mine.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you all the way home?” Jana asks as we reach her street.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Then you’ll have to walk back by yourself.”

“Yeah, but I’m prepared.” She pulls mace and a small knife that’s attached to her keychain out. “If someone or something tries to get me, stab stab.”

“Jesus, Jana,” I laugh out of shock. “No, I’ll be fine, how about tomorrow before work I get me one of those and then I’ll be prepared as well.”

“Fine, but call me when you get home,” she jots a number down and waves goodbye, “I’m serious Y/N/N, call me. If you don’t, I will call your parents.”

“I will,” I yell, turning back to head home.

I feel that I’m being followed. Paranoid, I know. I swear I can hear footsteps behind me, but every time I turn around, there’s nothing there. Freaking Jana, this is her fault. I’ve never had issues walking home at night before, but now I’m hearing things that I probably wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t put “I’m prepared,” in my head, now feeling like a taunt. I’m less than 5 minutes away from my house; what could possibly happen?

I hear a growling, something inhuman; it grows louder as I try to will myself to move faster. I turn the corner, and that’s when it happens, someone, something, jumps out of nowhere and starts running towards me. I try to run, but my legs won’t move, “fuck.”

I hear yelling, but I still can’t move, the creature is getting closer to me, and I get a good look at it. Claws, it has fucking claws. Its eyes are yellow, and its teeth are huge. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was a werewolf. But werewolves don’t exist. This must be the creature that John was looking for.

‘It’s some kind of rare species of bear,’ I tell myself, ‘a bear.’

It’s only about a foot away from me; it looks like something out of a horror movie. It’s on its hind legs, unnatural noises leave its body, and before I can even move, it's swiping at me. All I can do is close my eyes and pray it doesn't kill me. A loud bang forces my eyes open, I stand there, still unable to move. I look up to see a set of familiar eyes before me, ones I hadn’t expected to see ever again. Sam.

Chapter 2

[yusuke-of-valla]

like rats fleeing a sinking ship, pt. 2

Whumptober Alt. 14

Prompt: Shot

TW: mentions of gunshot wounds

<- Previous  Next->

AO3

~

Haru gets off the train in Yogen-Jaya, trying her best not to look too stiff and awkward. She’s still terrified someone will recognize her, and that will do more harm than good. Morgana had said that staying calm and acting like you were supposed to be somewhere was a good way to sneak in unnoticed while she was nervous about being seen loitering around Okumura company headquarters.

Speaking of Morgana, Haru keeps an eye out for a splash of black fur as she makes her way to the clinic. Akira’s vouched for the doctor there, and that’s the last place Haru knows he was, so that’s where she’s going.

She walks in to see the front room of the clinic empty except for the woman behind a desk in a lab coat.

“Hello, how can I help you?” the doctor says, eyeing Haru impassively.

“Um- m-my friend recommended your medicines.” Haru shoves her hands into the pockets of her hoodie to keep from fiddling with the strings. “He said you make good medicine for exams! They give you energy, or something.”

The doctor taps her pencil against the desk. “So, you’re a part of Kurusu-kun’s study group?”

“Yes!” Haru says, and flinches at how loud and excited she sounds. The doctor smirks and writes something down on a sheet of paper then places it on a desk with a bottle.

“Well, as long as you're here, can you bring this to your next study session? Kurusu forgot it. I’d take it to him myself, but as you can see I’m very busy.”

Haru strides forward and takes the bottle and note, shoving them into her pockets.

“You kids stay safe, alright?” the doctor whispers.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Haru replies.

The address is in Yogen-Jaya, a few blocks away from the clinic. Haru climbs the steps to the front door and knocks, nervously.

After several agonizing minutes, there’s still no answer, so Haru hesitantly knocks again. “It’s Noir.”

Suddenly, the door swings open and Akira is staring at her, still wearing his hoodie, and pulls Haru into a giant hug.

“I’m so glad you’re ok.” He says.

“Same to you,” Haru says. Akira leads her inside and shuts the door. Morgana runs up to her.

“Haru!”

“Mona-chan!” Haru scoops Morgana up into her arms and hugs him.

Haru’s joy at reuniting with her friends is dampened by another voice. "Finally. Took one of you long enough to get here.”

Haru frowns to see Goro Akechi lying on a couch.

“Akechi. I see you’re alive.”

“So sorry to disappoint you, Okumura.”

Akira clears his throat. “Coffee?”

“I’m fine. I just want to know what the plan is. I take it you haven’t heard from the others?”

Akira shakes his head. “No. I know where Sojiro and Futaba were headed before…” Akira trails off and Haru pats him on the shoulder. As hard as it had been for her to hear about Boss, Akira had been taken in by the man and saw him as another father figure, of course he would be upset.

Akira swallows. “Anyway, I’ve been in touch with Mishima who’s looking into internet rumors and tips, but he’s under close watch for being the Admin of the Phan Site. If we want to figure out what happened to everyone else, we’ll have to do our own leg work.”

“Why waste time, though?” Akechi says. “We’re four now and decently balanced, let’s just go after Shido and be done with it."

“We have to make sure our friends are safe!” Haru snaps.

Akechi rolls his eyes. “The only way they’ll truly be safe is if they’re no longer wanted criminals. Until then they’ll be hunted nonstop. Our priority should be changing Shido’s heart.”

“But we can’t do that if we’re not at full strength, you must have seen his ship, it’s massive! We need the others.”

“Your sentimentality is blinding you, Okumura. I know Shido, he won’t rest until all the loose ends are tied up!”

“You know him so well, yet you apparently weren’t prepared for him to come after you,” Haru says. Akechi practically growls, moving his hand to his abdomen where fresh bandages are covering his bullet wound. Haru ignores him and continues. “Besides, I’d think at this point you’d know not to underestimate us since we’ve already fooled you. The others are probably hiding out somewhere, we just have to find them, then we can go after Shido.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Akira says. “Akechi’s right, I think we need to prioritize changing Shido’s heart-” he puts a finger up before Haru can interject, “-but we’re still going to wait to do that until Akechi’s bullet wound is healed so he can actually fight without killing himself. Which means we have time to look for the others. Believe me Haru, I don’t like the idea of not knowing what’s happened to them either, but we can’t afford to wait until after the election.”

Haru and Akechi both grunt in agreement. Morgana leaps out of Haru’s arms and onto the counter. “We should start a plan of action as to who we’re going to track down.”

“Well if the Niijimas have any sense between the two of them, and they admittedly have a lot, they’ve gotten out of the city, so we’ll have to wait for them to contact us,” Akechi says. “I wouldn’t put it past Shido to order a full scale lockdown soon though, so we shouldn’t bother waiting past that.”

Haru nods. “Ann would probably head to her friend Suzui’s house first, right?”

“Yeah, probably,” Akira says. “There’s no way Shiho turns Ann in, so I think that’s a good place to start. Kawakami would know if she or Ryuji showed up near the school and would be willing to help.”

Akechi scoffs. “You have a lot of faith your accomplices won’t turn any of you in for the reward money, or to simply lighten their own sentence.”

“They won’t.” Akira says, staring him down.

Akechi just rolls his eyes. “Well, Sakamoto might not be subtle but I assume his mother would help him. We should see if they have any other family in the city they could go to.”

“And then Yusuke-”

“Oh we’re not bothering with Kitagawa or Sakura, are we?” Akechi says.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Haru asks.

“Sakura is probably on her own in the middle of the woods somewhere and we have no way to contact her or even track her down. She’ll either be found by someone who will turn her in, find someone who will keep her hidden, or get mauled by wild animals. In any case we don’t have any way of getting to her.”

Haru bites her lip. “Fine, but why shouldn’t we look for Yusuke?”

Akechi laughs. “Kitagawa’s just fucked in general. I mean, where was he most likely to be when the news went out? In his dorm, surrounded by other students and teachers who’d love 15 million yen, in the school art studio which has the same problem, or in the heavily crowded Shibuya station, sticking out like a sore thumb. Even now we’re assuming Takamaki and Sakamoto had someone around to help them, or at least someone who could get to them before anyone who wanted to turn them in could. Kitagawa though? He’s a lost cause and a waste of our already precious time.”

“The police haven’t reported his arrest!” Haru counters.

“That doesn’t mean he hasn’t been captured. Maybe they're holding out in case they can’t get the rest of us and want to use him as bait to lure us out. Maybe Shido’s goons killed him and they don’t want to report that yet.”

“Don’t you dare say that!”

“I’m simply stating the facts as they are. Kitagawa is unlikely to have avoided capture, and we can’t know for certain where he would be either way. Again, it’s not worth worrying about him.”

Haru balls her hand into a fist, but Akira puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “Alright. We start with trying to find Ryuji and Ann, keep an eye out for Makoto, and watch the news in case Yusuke or Futaba shows up there. Morgana and I know someone else we can ask for help, if she’s up for it. Then in a week, we gather everyone we can and try to change Shido’s heart. Agreed?”

“If you insist on wasting time, that’s acceptable,” Akechi says.

Morgana flicks his tail. “Sounds like a plan.”

Haru crosses her arms and looks between the three of them. “Fine, if you think it’s best.”

Akira nods. “Good, then let’s get to work. We don’t have a second to waste.”

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #9- Cops is Filmed on Location With the Mechs of Law Enforcement

It’s time for some gotdang origin stories, y’all.

Back before the war, when Functionist ideology was really just rocking the scene hardcore, Nightbeat stood outside of Maccadam’s New Oil House and had a chat with Quark.

No, not that Quark, the other one.

Quark’s reading an article at Nightbeat’s request about an attack on something called a relinquishment clinic, by a member of the Decepticons. Quark’s not a huge fan of the Decepticons, because he’s got a good thing going on Functionist Cybertron as a rare proton microscope, and even if things aren’t perfect, they’re pretty okay for him personally. At least he’s aware of his privilege.

Don’t be so quick to judge, Quark. Some Decepticons are into microscopes.

He’s pretty convinced that if the Decepticons get their way, they’re going to murder anyone who’s never handled a shovel. This is the same sort of misconception a lot of people have about the phrase “eat the rich”- it’s more about those who benefit from the social structure by way of oppressing others as opposed to those who flourish within it by their own work ethic and talents.

Granted, we as the reader know that shit is absolutely going to go sideways for everyone once the war kicks off, but Quark as it currently stands shouldn’t be nearly as worried as he is. He thinks Rung of all people is a threat, so you can tell he’s really feeling the paranoia of the times.

Hi Rung! Hope you’re enjoying your you-time. It’s important to have that, good for mental health.

The conspiracy convo gets cut short as Quark’s drink gets dripped in.

I mean, it’s all the same stuff, right? He could probably still drink it. Waste not, want not.

In the present day, we set up our framing device, with all of our friends welcoming Ratchet into the fray, as he shows off the fact that he finally color-matched his hands to the rest of his body.

Here’s a little joke for you: a spiritualist, two doctors, an archivist, a sentient marshmallow, a victim of ritualistic mutilation, and the hottest guy on the ship watch a third doctor walk into a bar.

Gentlemen, please, I haven’t even gotten to the punchline yet.

Anyway, Rewind’s set up this little hang sesh for medicinal purposes, after consulting Chromedome on the nature of the brain.

Rung’s looking a lot better than the last time we saw him, in that he’s got a head again, but he’s not really… functional right now. Hence this little meet up- everyone here has had their paths cross many times in the past, whether they realized it or not.

Except Tailgate, who took a six million year dirt-nap. He’s just here for shits and giggles.

And Swerve, but it’s his bar, and he’s lonely, so of course he’s going to stick around for this.

Anyway, those assembled will be taking turns in telling the story they all played a part in, in an attempt to kick-start Rung’s brain back into letting him do literally anything. Thanks to his obscenely large collection of historical documents and footage, Rewind more or less knows the structure the story will take- as shown by his conspiracy bulletin board that maps out everything that will be covered in the Shadowplay arc. The central pin in all this? Well, it’s Transformers, and it’s been a hot minute since we’ve seen the face of the franchise, so you tell me who it’s going to be.

Rewind sets the scene, giving everyone the skinny on the setting we’ll be in for the next little bit.

Way to see the silver lining, Swerve.

Chromedome starts the story off, because he’s a main character in all this, and also if you think Rewind would pass up the chance to listen to this capital-T-shaped dweeb talk, you’re deluding yourself.

In the past Chromedome worked mechaforensics- y’know, forensics for mecha- under a different name, which we will not be learning at this current time because it’ll muddle the already-convoluted narrative we’re about to get going here. Chromedome had the displeasure of working alongside then-desk jockey, Prowl.

Awful geared up for a desk jockey, ain’t he?

Yep. Chromedome used to be a cop, he partnered up with Prowl, he looked even more like a koala than he does now, and he was on the case of the assassinated Senator Sherma. What they don’t tell you is that if Sherma had turned out to have survived the ordeal of being strung up from a bridge upside-down, he would have been charged with food and health code violations for that little stunt he pulled on Quark’s drink.

Skids breaks the narrative flow to get the low-down on Prowl’s whole deal, because he doesn’t know who that is. Swerve breaks it down real quick, while Rewind provides visual aid.

A for effort.

The boys get a little distracted discussing Prowl’s anger management practices, until Drift asks that they move on, because Rodimus is sending him insulting messages on his tiny and paper thin comm because he can’t handle being ignored by his #1 fan. It’s just as well though, because it’s Drift’s turn to spin the yarn.

So, once upon a time, Drift wasn’t doing so hot. It wasn’t the whole “I’m a murderous Decepticon” thing- that was later on- but rather a horrific drug addiction, sense of self-loathing and being homeless. On the day of Sherma’s assassination, Drift was so out of his gourd on circuit speeders, he didn’t even register the fact that he was approached by a pair of robots and promptly beaten by the two of them for money.

Things looks bad for poor Drift, but not to worry, because the main reason for this arc existing just showed up.

There he is, in all his pin-up art glory.

Orion Pax, the mech who would become Optimus Prime, proceeds to arrest Sonic and Boom- yeah, it’s the two guys from Delphi, we aren’t wasting the brain power on creating two new characters for this one scene, that’s crazy talk- and then calls for a bus to keep Drift from biting it due to drug overdose.

Listen to the professionals, folks. They know more than you about the shit that can kill you. It’s why they get paid the big bucks.

(I have no idea what Ratchet’s salary is like.)

Drift is taken to Ratchet’s super-secret, please-don’t-tell-the-Senate-about-this clinic in the Dead End, where we get a taste of Drift riffing on Ratchet in the present, as he paints a picture of a spiritual young doctor who actively and loudly praises Adaptus as he works on a ODing patient. The Ratchet of the here and now doesn’t appreciate this twisting of the truth, and makes it known by smearing his still-wet hand paint all over Drift’s face.

Shane McCarthy slipped James Roberts a twenty to set up a slowburn between his OC and Ratchet back in issue #4. Here, Roberts tends to the seeds of their shared past that were planted in the Delphi arc.  

Drift didn’t take Ratchet’s advice back then, something that is and will continue to be a running issue for the two of them, and the sudden downshift in tone lets Tailgate ask about just what in the sam hill a relinquishment clinic is. Chromedome fills him in, Rewind providing visuals.

A relinquishment clinic was a place where a Transformer could sell their body- not in a sex-work way, but literally, as you let someone else have their spark planted into your vacated frame for a short period of time, just to try out different modes and looks. It was expensive, and only used to get around the fact that only the most elite of cybertronians could alter their bodies, because only they had enough influence to have the Functionist Senate look the other way. Ratchet never approved of the practice, and this is where he takes over the story.

Too bad we don’t get to see what all that’s about just yet, because there are more pressing matters at hand, like the fact that Nominus Prime is dead.

Seems like there’s a conspiracy at hand, and Orion is considering introducing Ratchet to a friend on the inside- and in the present time, Drift leaves to go meet with Rodimus so he’ll stop being a pest. Chromedome picks his story thread back up, bringing us to Prowl’s requested autopsy.

The boys in the lab broke Sherma down to his base parts, labeled each part, and laid them out on the floor in no discernible order. Maybe it’s based on the Cybertronian alphabet. I suppose we’ll never know.

The autopsy revealed that Sherma was shot several times, which we’d already managed to suss out at the scene of the crime, without getting half the forensics team involved, but we did get a little something for our troubles.

More evidence for Rodimus’ Uggs.

No, I’m never letting this go, don’t even bother asking.

The kind of glass that they found is only found in one specific area of Iacon, known as Translucentica Heights, and how about that! Prowl just so happens to have a search warrant for Translucentica Heights. Wow. Way to go, Prowl.

Meanwhile, Ratchet and Orion are hanging out at the monument for the Ark-1, which is the ship that fucked off into space and got eaten by the Dead Universe. Cyclonus remembers. I bet he kind of wishes that he didn’t, but he remembers.

Orion’s very good friend the Senator shows up, and Orion introduces him to Ratchet. The Senator was first introduced in Chaos Theory- he’s convinced that Orion is a very special individual, and had his body altered without permission while he was passed out, so that he might one day carry the Matrix.

Orion is maybe just a touch too trusting of authority figures, unless that figure is god himself.

Ratchet helps create a visage of not-plotting, as Orion and the Senator discuss whether or not Nominus was assassinated by the Senate. Dear Senator says “fuck yeah he was” and it was in no small part due to the fact that the Matrix he was carrying was a fake.

There’s also something that’s going on between Sentinel and the Decepticons, which leads Orion to ask about Megatron and how he’s doing. He’d probably be doing a hell of a lot better if you hadn’t given the Senate that he directly opposes his full name and occupation, Orion, but it’s sweet that you’re worried.

Back with the wonder cops, Chromedome and Prowl are shooting across the sky to the tune of Shooting Star as they make their way over to Translucentica Heights. They discuss the validity of claims that the Institute exists as they make their way over to Sherma’s apartment building, when someone gets thrown out the window from roughly 4000 stories up.

Trailbreaker was right, Fort Max having guns in his legs doesn’t make him special, if these losers are doing it too.

In the present, Drift’s finally caught up with Rodimus in the oil reservoir, where he’s coaxing Grapple like a wounded baby deer through pulling something out of the muck.

It’s Red Alert, and he’s seen better days.

I mean, sure, that seems like the most likely option, seeing as he’s the only non-Autobot aboard this giant stupid ship, and you haven’t done anything to actually gather evidence on what’s happened to our pal here. It makes sense for the knee-jerk reaction to be to blame the dude who blew up Kimia.

We’ll see where that line of thought gets us next issue.

[tbuddahh]

Pumpkin Pie

Thanksgiving meet-cute. (alt-universe)

Thanksgiving is always a time she dreads.  The holiday arrives each year during her favorite season.  The smell of leaves falling from the trees still lingering in the air, and the opportunity to wear all her cozy socks, sweaters, and so on still don’t make up for the day she abhors.

“Regina, Regina!  Are you listening?” Cora’s shrill voice through the phone forces her focus.

“Yes, Mother.  I am listening.  I just don’t understand why I can’t bring a store bought pumpkin pie.”  Regina questions, her fingers anxiously tapping against the wood of her dining table.

“Darling,” her mother says with condescension, “I know you are busy with Henry and work, but there is no reason to underestimate yourself.  You can make a wonderful pie.  I’ll send you my recipe.”

That seems to be the end of the conversation as her mother begins rambling on about how her father has yet to pick up the turkey, and there are so many preparations before Thursday.

Regina sighs, half listening to her mother’s complaints.  She’s been more than busy with Henry and work.  She’s been on call all weekend for the veterinary clinic where she works, and has had to drive Henry to and from soccer practice or games four times since Friday.  She is exhausted, drained of any remaining energy by her mother’s insistence that she bake the pie she brings to their annual Thanksgiving gathering.  

It isn’t that she doesn’t enjoy baking.  She loves putting together warm apple crisp or gingerbread cookies this time of year, but she still has two more days of call, and if the next two days are anything like this past weekend she doubts she’ll survive it.

“Mom?” Henry questions, his lanky body leaning across the kitchen island.  Regina can’t help but wonder when he got that big.

She hums a reply, glancing at him, silently asking what he needs while her mother continues chattering away over the phone.

“Is that Grandma?” he questions.  Regina gives a slight, tired nod before Henry eases back from the counter and walks in her direction.

“Here.” He says, reaching his fingers to her phone, and then he takes it, puts it to his own ear and greets his grandmother politely.  He takes over then, listening to his grandmother’s constant blather, and Regina is grateful, proud, and so very tired.

She rises from the table, passes him, but not without leaving a kiss on the top of his head, and heads to her bathroom.  Several minutes pass quickly as she prepares herself for bed, pulling on her coziest fleece pajamas, and then she lifts up her covers, and lets the quiet and darkness calm her as she drifts to sleep.

Monday morning doesn’t bring renewed energy.  Regina finds herself called to the vet clinic at 4:00 AM by an owner of a large dog who wouldn’t get up to go outside this morning.  Teddy, the great dane, was lethargic, and slightly bloated.  Instead of sleeping away the early hours of the morning, Regina spends those hours running labs and developing x-ray film.  The next few days don’t improve, but luckily, as Wednesday morning rolls around, she finally gets a break.

She wants to spend the day doing absolutely nothing.  She wants to stay in her pajamas, curl up on the couch, and watch “Home Alone” with Henry.  She desperately needs a day of nothing, no to do’s, no obligations, but that isn’t today.  Today she has to bake a pumpkin pie.  Not just a pumpkin pie, but her mother’s recipe.

She stretches, taking a sip of coffee, before scrolling through the ingredients and steps her mother had sent.  This would take hours!  She is supposed to make the pumpkin puree and cool it before even starting on the crust.  She sighs, sets her phone down on the counter and takes another deep sip of hot coffee.  The warm brown liquid eases her stress, the smell lightening her mood when Henry walks into the kitchen.

“Hi, Mom.”  Henry states while opening a cabinet and grabbing out a box of cereal. “I’ll help you make Grandma’s pie later if you want.”

“Thanks.” Regina smiles.  Having Henry help will make her task almost enjoyable. “I’ll take you up on that.  First I have to go buy a very long list of ingredients. Care to run to the grocery store with me?”

“Ummm, Mom.” Henry mumbles, mouth full of cereal, before he gestures to his clothes.  It’s ten in the morning, but he’s still in his pajamas, hair shuffled, and sleep still crusting his eyes.  “I don’t really think I’m presentable.”

Regina laughs, nods, and heads to the door.  “I’ll be home in an hour.  Call if you need me. Love you.”

“Love you.” Henry mumbles past another bite of cereal, and Regina stops herself before scolding him for poor manners.  That’s something her mother would have done, something her mother does, constantly.  She shakes her head, knowing Henry usually doesn’t talk with his mouth full.  With a grin she walks out the door.

It’s on her second stop at a grocery store that she realizes there are no pie pumpkins to be found.  She nearly grabs a bakery pumpkin pie before pulling her hand back and biting her lower lip.  No, she can’t do that.  Unless she wants to spend the entirety of Thanksgiving dinner listening to her mother’s great dissatisfaction she cannot do that.  She grabs it anyway, along with all the other ingredients she needs to bake a pie, and a can of pumpkin puree.  Just in case.

A grocery clerk kindly informs her that there is a farmer who sells fresh produce every Wednesday just a mile from the store.  She might just be lucky enough to find some pumpkins there.

Before she even pulls into the parking lot up the road, she spots the bright orange of pumpkins.  They look small, just about right, and she finds herself parking and walking up to the tailgate of the blue pick up truck with a wide smile tugging at her lips.

“Hi, I’m Robin. Can I help you?” an accented voice asks, and Regina turns coming eye to eye with gorgeous blue depths.

Regina continues smiling, taking in the attractive face in front of her.  “Yes,” she turns back to the truck, “how much are the pumpkins?”

“Pie pumpkins are two for $5.” The man moves in front of her, lifting one for her to see more closely.  “Making a pie?”

She scoffs before taking the pumpkin in her hands and turning it over, “I’m being coerced into making a pie.”

“Ah,” he grins, and that’s when she notices the dimples etching into his cheeks, “well, these will do the job, coercion or not.”

“I’ll take two.” She states, handing him the pumpkin, before shifting to dip into her purse.

She hands him a five dollar bill while simultaneously accepting a hefty paper bag.  His fingers brush hers, and she nearly jumps.  She can’t believe how easily affected she seems to be by a handsome man.  It’s embarrassing, and she feels her cheeks flush.

He clears his throat before speaking, “My card is in the bag.  I guarantee fresh produce so if you have any problems feel free to reach out.”

She grins again, thanks him, and can’t seem to stop smiling on her way home.

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 76: Coincide

Table of Contents. Third Instar, Chapter 7. Go to previous. Go to next. TWs: Prescription medication and the reasons for it, smoking, honeymooning type behavior.

“...[H]ow complicated and unpredictable the machinery of life really is.” -- Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle

_______________________

For the next few days, ‘Choly and Sticks formed a routine. They'd have breakfast, search and research, and then play tourist when their constructive efforts petered out. All kinds of strange things found themselves on the shelves of Ant Lane’s shops, from deteriorated phone books to crystal butter dishes.

Angel sanctioned a temporary renewal of ‘Choly’s Mentats habit, as treatment for the persisting migraine that wouldn’t let up, even after he got his neck and shoulder back in place. Pain on its own could’ve laid him out, but the sensory dysregulation ruined him. If not for the Mentats, he couldn’t have possibly accompanied Sticks and Angel to comb the mall. But he refused to sit out on their mission. Between his aggravated photophobia and their failure to produce any concrete results, he’d become most snippety and cantankerous.

At least they’d put their hands on some toothpastes and mouthwashes. Not that it mattered much without the core ingredient.

Turning in close to closing, they returned downtrodden to the Anchor Inn. Orqueida had not been at the Concierge desk since that first night, but there she was. Sticks steadied ‘Choly while he dismounted from Angel. The trio approached the desk at the ghoul’s suggestion.

“Good evening, milady.” Sticks produced his sack of pulls from his apron. “I believe we should go ahead and pay on our rent for another week.”

She eyed some papers on her desk with detachment.

“One-ten, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What!” ‘Choly nearly slapped off his own glasses in animation, and stewed rubbing at his nose. “--We’re not sticking around past our rent. They’re not here.”

Orqueida complied with the request and set to counting out another week’s pay. Looking between the two men, her curiosity ran amok of her entrepreneurial temperament. The makings of drama brightened her misaligned eyes.

“Just ‘cause you don’t feel well doesn’t mean things are grim on all fronts. I can keep looking even if you’ve got to stay in bed all day. We haven’t even bothered with the Flea Market yet.”

“He’s right, you know,” Angel seconded. “You’re pushing yourself too hard, Sir. Please trust that your best interests are ours as well. We know how much these devices stand to improve your quality of life. Have some faith, Sir--in us, as well as in our task.”

“Angel’s right, too. We threw in the towel today without having a little fun. Why don’t you find something in the Gift Shop, Mindy? My treat.”

“The Gift Shop?” Orqueida repeated, squaring her shoulders when their attention remembered she was there. She smiled, eager to attend them. “You’re in luck. I went out scavenging the Nashua ruins this week. I just restocked this morning.”

‘Choly rolled his eyes, but none of them saw it as he resigned.

“Why not?”

Orqueida walked them down a center hall to a space with installed shelves. Stools provided a few small table arrangements of objects. Odd metal and ceramic objects populated the stall. Divorced from their origin, ‘Choly struggled to recognize much of what these things once decorated, but identifying a few things helped his understanding a majority of the Gift Shop’s merchandise was salvaged architectural hardware and ornamentation. One of the three walls displayed metal bas relief faces and scenes, reminiscent of a taxidermy wall. Remnants of large scale bronze sculptures also littered the collection, ranging from broken arms still toting Revolutionary War weapons to a tricorner cap upturned still containing the top half of some man’s head.

“Fascinating.” Angel marveled at everything from a distance. Chuckling to himself, Sticks flapped a large door hinge at the Mister Handy. “Sir... I’m not sure that’s what those are for.”

“You said you’d been to town.” ‘Choly picked up an intricate brass doorknob and inspected it for no other reason but weariness. “You didn’t happen to find any medical gear, did you?”

“I wasn’t going to ask, but...” Orqueida wrung her hands in front of her. “What could you possibly be so desperate to find, that you couldn’t find it here? That you’d stay at Anchor an entire extra week, without looking into leasing?”

Sticks produced the Walden catalogue from his apron pocket and turned it to the page. ‘Choly grabbed it and rolled the booklet back, to hold it out to point. Orqueida eyed the page. Their demeanor invited unease, but she seemed to gain something from regarding the product photos.

“...So that’s what that thing was,” she murmured, holding her chin.

“Wait, what’s what thing!” ‘Choly grabbed her arms with both hands and looked up at her in snapping desperation. “What did you have!”

Orqueida convinced him to let go, but he didn’t apologize. She pulled the catalogue from him, but hesitated to point at the neck brace.

“I had... that part. Brought it back because it’s got good leather. Junk doesn’t sell in the gift shop, though, so I gave it to my boyfriend. He seemed to know what it was, but he didn’t explain and I didn’t ask. It’s medical equipment? You’re more ill than you let on--”

The unlikely breakthrough sheared any civility ‘Choly could’ve mustered.

“Your boyfriend! Who’s your boyfriend? Where did you find it? Please tell me it was in tact.”

“Geez, Mindy.” Sticks put a hand to his lower back, hoping to cool him down. “Let her get a word in, would you?”

The group fell silent while they tried to figure out whose turn it was to speak. Orqueida shook her head slowly.

“There weren’t any other pieces like that where I found it. My beau’s Liam Bledsoe. He runs the Gate City Clinic. You can’t miss it. It’s at the Lantern Intersection between See’s and The Hall. Lower Level.”

‘Choly removed his glasses to massage his nose bridge.

“The Clinic. I asked you the night we got here, if we needed to go there. It could’ve been our first stop.”

“I didn’t find it until yesterday.” Orqueida’s features skewed at him. “Liam wouldn’t have had it. I’m surprised you haven’t found any of the other parts yet. I’ve seen stuff like this before. It’s been a while, but I can confirm it’s been here.”

“So we are on the right track.” Sticks smiled and tapped ‘Choly’s back. “You really are wonderful, Orqueida.”

“Well, hopefully he’s still got it. Don’t praise me just yet.” She sighed, her face long but invested. She walked them back to the lobby. “I’d escort you there, but I need to be here for the last wave of check-ins. You’ve got about half an hour before curfew. Don’t worry if you run over. I can walk you back. See’s will understand.”

“Thank you, madam. Wish us luck!”

Angel warmed her demeanor, and she smiled and nodded.

“Maybe another day, you can consider buying a piece of Nashua history to take with you. But we’ll revisit that. You should get going.”

“See you in a bit,” ‘Choly appreciated, sheepish.

‘Choly didn’t bother mounting Angel to walk the short way to the Lantern Intersection. With how miserable he felt, he would’ve had more trouble getting back down. Across and diagonal from Grey & Gould, the Clinic occupied a large corner store space. When they entered, two older Laners were just leaving. A dozen beds and mismatched patterns and sizes of standing curtains lined up one side of the establishment, while a small seating area and some desks occupied the other. The bite of tobacco smoke and iodine chafed them.

Off to the window side of the Clinic sat an impassive gangling thirtisome man with a slicked pale rattail. He had on a half-unbuttoned banded collar seersucker shirt with rolled sleeves. When he glanced up over his beaklike nose from the folder he’d scrutinized, the cigarette in his mouth went limp.

“You had better need medical attention, to be bothering me so late.”

“...Sort of,” ‘Choly replied. “It’s complicated.”

“We need medical supplies,” Sticks added. “We’ve been referred to you.”

He sucked at his smoke, then held it in one hand to exhale, still skimming the file in his lap.

“Unless you’re looking to unload some, you’re out of luck. I can’t spare anything directly related to patient care.”

Sticks produced the catalogue, and showed their acquisition goal.

“Orqueida said you had a piece of this stuff. ‘Choly here needs it.”

The wood chair clacked to the polished concrete, to rest on all four legs, as Liam stood to approach. His deep-set eyes squinted at the page.

“I just today got that. I’m not interested in selling it.”

‘Choly feared their grasp slipped, and he squirmed. Everything felt hyper-real, too crisp and clear, too sharp for his senses.

“If you need chems,” he blurted out, “I’ve got a few Med-X, Rad-X, and Addictol. I’d even fork up some Mentats, if it’s convincing.”

Liam just kept staring at the catalogue.

“A trade is more my tune.”

“He can practically be a roaming pharmacy.”

“Well, if you know a drugstore or clinic that hasn’t been cleaned out within twenty miles, be my guest to scav. Though I imagine if you’re here, you’ve either already tried, or chems aren’t your fix.”

‘Choly hemmed, weighing the emotional toll and feasibility of what spilled out of him next. The consequences of normal, common drugstore chems were predictable, marginal, compared to what concerned him.

“It’s a shame the Walden Drugs warehouse is leveled. We didn’t just come to Nashua seeking medical equipment. We were hoping its chem lab survived. You haven’t got a chemistry setup, have you? I could help replenish some of your pharmacy stock. I’m a chemist. Was a chemist. Am? ...It’s complicated...”

Liam soured with a sneer and flattened brow.

“You really are a chemist? You’re not yanking me around?”

“Certified and seasoned.”

“I’m the only experienced medic left. It’s been over a decade since we had a chemist. It would be fantastic if you could provide that kind of labor, even if it’s just for a day or two. We could use just about anything you can cook up. For example, without Med-X, I’ve been forced to offer patients Hub petals for pain care lately. One step above chewing bullets, depending on the need.” The medic made eye contact with him. He puffed again at his smoke, careless of the ashes. “You must have expected a large setup from a warehouse. You didn’t intend to set up shop in the Satellites, now, did you?“

“The property’s location would have been its only consequence,” Sticks assuaged. “I’ve always preferred doing business with Ant Lane.”

“It is a shame,” he nodded, quiet. “Lab equipment’s mostly glass. If the building’s leveled, all that’s got to have shattered. ...Would’ve been a hell of a windfall.”

“You didn’t say whether you’ve got a lab here.” ‘Choly doubted the appropriateness of pressing Liam on it, but he had to get traction any way he could.

“A small one, yes.” He sighed, impatient. “You didn’t say why you’d need a surgical brace like that. It’s for post-op recovery. Heavy duty stuff. Are you expecting some kind of major surgery in your future?”

“It’s a gross oversimplification, but I’ve been exposed to lots of untested chemicals. I would demonstrate my joint laxity, but this cervical migraine has me too far gone to even think about loosing something, let alone resetting it. I’m at my limit right now. Please just tell me you’ve got any of the surgical orthotics. And please tell me Orqueida correctly said it was the cervical brace in particular. If I have to go one more day with an otherwise preventable vertebral subluxation, I will no longer be accountable for my behavior.”

“He’s been nigh insufferable,” Sticks whispered to Liam.

Liam took it all in, his understanding building into more agreeable nods. He walked off to a door in the back. He returned with a foot-wide length of canvas, lined and edged in leather, its ends eyelet-laced together. He sat at a stool halfway between the door and where the two men stood, and beckoned that they meet him. Sticks helped ‘Choly sit on the edge of the bed there, a small mattress atop a desk.

“I see a lot of visitors who don’t adjust to the rad-eaters’ glass so well. Migraines are somewhat common. I suppose I may as well examine you.”

‘Choly let Liam place a palm on his forehead, check his blood pressure by the wrist, and grip a few joints without manipulating anything out of place.

“I’ve been taking Mentats for the migraine these past few days,” ‘Choly admitted. “I’ve got awful photophobia on account of the cataracts, and I can’t imagine that the weird gold light helps with that, either.”

Liam motioned in encouragement that ‘Choly list off his symptoms. ‘Choly did so, and tried to show him the vitals page of his Pip-Boy. The medic largely disregarded anything not said aloud, snubbing digital diagnostics.

“I haven’t heard of anything like this before. I do think you’re right to take Mentats. When I have them, that’s what I recommend for migraines caused by the lighting here. But the light sounds like it’s only exacerbating existing issues.”

“I’m hoping we can locate a full set of that style of orthotics. I intend to wear it long-term. At least, until I can determine if my condition’s permanent.”

“If you open your shirt, I’ll help you into it. They’re a bit fussy. Promise it’s been properly sanitized.”

‘Choly’s heart fluttered.

“I already have a lesser orthotic corset on. I don’t need to remove it, right?”

“And it’s not too different from putting that on, is it?” Sticks squeezed over to watch. “I need to watch. Er, ‘cause I’m going to be the one helping.”

“As long as I can get at your shoulders and collarbone for the fitting, that’s all I need. And I’m not the best teacher, but you can watch. Whatever.”

‘Choly complied with the best posture he could, stunned. He tried to observe without being able to watch.

“You weren’t kidding.” Liam identified 'Choly’s errant vertebrae with intuitive, firm presses all along his neck and spine. ‘Choly couldn’t possibly sit still enough, hearing Liam’s detached dislike of the task. “Wicked unprecedented hypermobility. It would take next to nothing for me to manipulate your spine with just my hands. Eh. Hopefully, I helped with the alignment that the collar will hold.”

The medic latched the busks on the side and lined it up, hands feeling either side of ‘Choly’s jawline. He adjusted the lacing accordingly as he tightened it into place. As the collar fit his contours, ‘Choly felt drawn into place, comforted by its rigidity and pressure.

“Not too tight, is it?”

“It’s... perfect.” ‘Choly ran a hand over the boning seams, at a loss for words how much better he already felt. Restricting the amount he could turn his head would do wonders for it staying put. “Thank you.”

“Don’t think me crass, but I’ve got to ask.” Liam bent down a bit to meet ‘Choly’s seated eye level. “I can’t tell your gender.”

‘Choly’s eyes widened as he assessed the best answer. The fact a reflexive response didn’t come, he couldn’t tell if stress tripped him up, or if he suddenly didn’t quite know. He hated that Sticks didn’t chime in, but at the same time, he appreciated it.

“Most people in my life have called me a guy. That’s fine.”

The answer interested Liam. It interested ‘Choly more.

“Hey.” Sticks wagged a finger at Liam. “You didn’t state your price.”

Liam sat back down. He pulled a drawer of the desk, and extinguished his cigarette in an ashtray in it. He then fished his pack of cigarettes from inside his sleeve. Only once he’d lit a fresh one did he glance to Sticks. Leaning forward, he fidgeted with his lighter and the pack.

“I’ll accept the Med-X and Addictol. You guys can keep the Mentats. It’s for his migraine.” He glanced to ‘Choly. “And I’ll accept your agreement to help me turn around my inventory. I’ll pay you for anything you can cook up or otherwise bring me.”

“You don’t want the Rad-X?”

Considering Sticks’s selfish interests in outfitting him with these leather-and-canvas pieces, ‘Choly couldn’t help but regard the medication as prophylactic in their own way. He wondered whether other ghouls in the mall needed such a thing.

“No need for it mostly. We’ve got a stand of maple nearby, sound shelter, and clean water. Rad remedy’s one of the only things we have in surplus.”

“I... I’ll sleep on it.” ‘Choly remembered to button back up. His breath snagged as he turned all this over in his mind. “I don’t see why not, as long as I’ve got the accommodations and the materials. I’ve got to pull together the funds to afford the rest of a full set as we find it, right?”

“I can keep an eye out for those, as well, as long as you’ll recompense me for the trouble. You might certainly do well to consider more contemporary clothing choices, too, if you’re going to wear the collar daily. It doesn’t really look to get along with a prewar dress shirt.”

When ‘Choly got to the top two buttons, he couldn’t help but agree, and forfeit completing the task. Liam leaned in to get a handshake, firm but jerking.

“I wasn’t expecting to take on a new patient tonight, and I definitely wasn’t expecting to find a prospective business partner. How are you feeling about things?”

‘Choly warmed to smile, nodding.

“I’m confident. You wouldn’t believe how much more confident.”

“Good. Hm. Where all have you looked so far? They’re not so rare.”

“We’ve focused on clothing and armory,” Sticks said. “We haven’t managed to look through the entire mall just yet.”

Liam shook his head and sucked at his cigarette, eyes shut. He gestured with a dismissive assertiveness.

“You’re on the wrong track. You need to try junk vendors. Ask people for their scrap leather. Sure, it’ll turn up baseball mitts and wrecked leather jackets and shit, but you’ll eventually turn up other pieces of this set without a doubt. I will tell you a secret about this place: Just about nobody here knows what they’ve actually got, and even fewer know what other people are actually selling.”

“You’ve been a tremendous help,” ‘Choly appreciated. “You and your girl both.”

“It’s less trouble than you think.”

“I do want to make it clear that ‘Choly and I work together.” Sticks imposed his own handshake to cement things. “Sticks and Melancholy. I take care of things for him. Consider me a... an acquisition expert.” He grinned, standing broadly. “I’m even better finding homes for things.”

“I can see what kind of invoices I can draft in the morning, for the two of you to work on filling. In the mean time--”

Liam stood with a big, bright grin. Plucking the cigarette from his mouth, he waved his open arms to Orqueida, who’d arrived with an armful of food. She motioned for Angel to come inside, so she pulled the rolling door shut and locked it. Then she set down the oiled fabric bag of food to embrace her boyfriend.

“You got ribs tonight,” Liam reveled, his aquiline nose deep in the sack. “Fantastic celebratory meal.”

“Oh, so something to celebrate, then! I didn’t get dinner for you two,” she apologized. “Figured you’d already eaten. You can have a handpie if you want.”

“We have,” ‘Choly waived. “Don’t worry about us. We should get back, so you can enjoy it hot.”

“Speak for yourself. I’d like a handpie.” Orqueida gladly gave Sticks one.

“Angel. Angel, come here. I need your storage.”

“Oh, that thing’s yours. I should’ve known. Orqueida can’t stop talking about it.”

“I’m something of a hot topic, it seems.” Angel let him inside. “I’m glad we could provide you some medically necessary goods, Mister Bledsoe.”

‘Choly set out the requested medication on the exam bed, and Liam flipped cartons open on them to guarantee complete packages.

“Hopefully much more than that,” Liam grinned through this smoke.

“Were you done?” Orqueida asked, brightening. “I don’t want to run you off.”

“Speak for yourself,” Liam chuckled. “The sooner they can scram, the sooner I can sit down to Radstag and Blight. It’s past curfew anyway. You know how much I hate See’s getting nosy, love.”

“I’m starving, really,” she admitted. “Let’s get you gone, then.”

“Come see me sometime before lunch. Say, eleven or so. That’ll give me time for my morning appointments and such.”

“Enjoy your dinner.”

The Concourse became another place altogether, once the visitors emptied out. ‘Choly expected the halls to fall quiet, with people winding down to sleep after long days, but the opposite seemed true: Laners could socialize and unwind after closing shop for the day. During the day, the mall felt like a mall for the most part, but at night, its community ties wove it to life.

“I’m glad Liam was able to help you,” she told them, at a hush. “It sounds like you’re a help to him as well.”

“Don’t praise me just yet,” ‘Choly grinned.

To circumvent the Anchor Inn’s rolling doors, she let them in through the employee access, and led them through the office hall to the lobby inside.

“I’ll praise you all I like, Melancholy. Good night.”

“Good night,” the trio all whispered.

Once they heard the door shut, Sticks pulled ‘Choly in, with a firm grip on the collar’s lacing. He grinned heatedly at him, eyes inviting a passionate kiss. His other hand wandered to the small of ‘Choly’s back. ‘Choly wrapped his arms around him, to draw it out.

“Words fail me,” ‘Choly finally murmured, smiling into Sticks’s chest. “The first step to feeling normal again.”

Sticks swept him up bridal style without warning, spurring laughter in the two which bystanders, had they had any, might easily have mistaken for drunken tomfoolery. The ghoul pecked away at him delightedly, intent do do far more behind closed doors. Angel chuckled a bit once it was certain ‘Choly was okay carried back to the room in this way.

It hoped to itself, “Maybe a bit better than normal.”

Go to Next »»»

[leaveittochelsea]

My Nursing School Favorites

Let’s face it: nursing school is HARD. From lectures and exams to clinical rotations, it can feel like you’re being pulled in so many different directions. During these past two semesters, I’ve managed to gather some supplies that have made navigating life as a student nurse a bit easier to handle. In this post, I’m going to share them with you!

A Reliable Stethoscope

There are so many different types of stethoscopes to choose from — ranging in price from about $30 to upwards of $300. Investing in a reliable stethoscope is crucial for success. You don’t have to buy the most expensive one. Just keep in mind that buying a stethoscope of good quality will save you a ton of money in the long run. And, it’ll be easier to hear lung and heart sounds while auscultating patients. I purchased a 3M Littman Classic III Stethoscope and i absolutely love it!. Best part is that they come in some many different colors. 

https://www.walmart.com/ip/3M-Littmann-Classic-III-Stethoscope-Rainbow-Finish-Raspberry-Tube-27-inch-5806/125636484?selected=true 

2. Monthly Planner (1 year)

Having a good planner is a huge necessity. If you’re anything like me, planners are crucial factor in keeping my life as organized as possible. I use the Day Designer 12 Month Planner and it’s a huge life saver. I use this to keep track of my assignments, exams, simulation and clinical schedules and much more. It’s also helpful if you work part time while in school!

https://www.target.com/p/2021-22-academic-planner-8-34-x-10-34-frosted-wirebound-daily-monthly-rugby-stripe-black-day-designer/-/A-81237593#lnk=sametab 

3. Colored Pens

I am a visual learner. I use colored pens and highlighters when studying. Basically, I associate terms and concepts with certain colors so that it’s easier to retain. This helps me a lot! Additionally, color-code exams, assignments, and events in my planner according to the course. This helps me to see what’s due for each class just by looking at my planner. 

https://www.target.com/p/arteza-fineliner-pens-inkonic-fine-line-assorted-colors-set-of-24/-/A-81314082#lnk=sametab 

4. Watch with a Second Hand (or a smartwatch with adjustable face)

Heart rate and respiratory rate are two vital signs that you’ll practice very often during labs and clinical rotations. In order to do so, you’ll need to have a watch with a second hand. You can use either a regular analog watch or a smartwatch if you have one. Just be sure to adjust your smartwatch face to one that has a second hand and you’ll be good to go!

https://www.amazon.com/Casio-Womens-LQ139A-1B3-Black-Classic/dp/B000GB0G2K/ref=sr_1_8_mod_primary_new?dchild=1&keywords=secondhand+watch&qid=1618260482&sbo=RZvfv%2F%2FHxDF%2BO5021pAnSA%3D%3D&sr=8-8 

5. Foldable Clipboard

Let me tell you a secret: foldable clipboards are a game changer! I ordered one off of amazon that I  have been absolutely loving. These are great to use while in labs or clinical rotations. They enable you to take notes while standing or on the go. And they literally fold in half and fit effortlessly into your scrub pocket! The one I purchased is the nursing edition and features a ton of useful information, including:  temperature, height, and weight conversions, normal ranges for white blood cell count, respiratory rate, heart rate, and temperature, normal arterial blood gas values, and so much more! If you don’t listen to anything else from this post, listen to this: Buy it! Trust me, you’ll love it. 

https://www.amazon.com/WhiteCoat-Clipboard-Mint-Nursing-Edition/dp/B07RB7N82M/ref=sr_1_8?dchild=1&keywords=foldable+clipboard&qid=1618260509&sr=8-8 

6. Dry Erase Board (calendar or blank versions) 

I use a dry erase calendar so that I can see everything due for the month at a bird’s eye view. It isn’t as detailed as my planner, but it does present me with a reminder of what I need to get done when I don’t have my planner open. A blank dry erase board is also a helpful tactic to use while studying. In addition to using color, I like to repeatedly write my notes so that i can retain them. 

https://www.target.com/p/u-brands-16-34-x20-34-mod-frame-3-in-1-dry-erase-calendar-board/-/A-16732119#lnk=sametab 

7. Comfy sneakers (white) 

Comfortably sneakers are a necessity once you being clinical rotations. During this semester, my clinicals have only been about six hours. But by the time I reach my final semester, my clinicals will be about twelve hours long. It’s really important that you have some comfortable sneakers, because you WILL be standing and walking around during most of your shift. Different nursing programs may have different guidelines for the shoes that you’ll have to wear. Most schools want students to wear white sneakers. Some programs may require that your sneakers be leather, while others may not have a preference. Be sure to review your school’s policy when it comes to the your uniform. 

https://www.amazon.com/s?k=white+sneakers&ref=nb_sb_noss_2 

These are just a few of my nursing school supplies that I’ve been loving. I hope you found something that sparked your interest. Thanks for reading! 

[kezikatescribbling]

Witness to Monsters-Chapter 1: Out of the Fire and Into His Arms

Finally have chapter 1 done! Thanks to my amazing, goofy, creative group chat for the idea :)

***

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 |

Or read on AO3:

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21639121/chapters/51599854

Word Count: 2463

TW: Trauma/PTSD

The first thing [Yn] noticed as she woke up is the movement of the world around her, like she’s on a swaying ship. It had been so long since [Yn] had seen or heard any water that wasn’t from a faucet, so she eagerly worked her way through her muddled mind to listen for the slaps of water, only to find...silence. Then footsteps, loud and reverberating, like the sound was echoing through a large space. ‘Oh, right’, [Yn] thought to herself, ‘I’m in jail’.

Her mind quickly caught her up on her past in flashes playing behind her eyelids; Needles held by people with impassive faces, clinical and uncaring. Then explosions, blinding and confusing, men and women with guns, dragging her out of hell into the unknown. Concern and...fear. That’s what was hiding in the eyes of the people that found her. Not fear for her, but of her. Not that she blames them. For all they know, [Yn]’s a ticking time bomb of terror.

The world is slowly coming back into focus as a new voice joins the mix, low and pleasant...comforting, even though the words themselves aren’t anything [Yn] should take comfort in.

“Hunnigan.” The man said, clearly in greeting, “I was told you had an assignment for me, but why are we meeting here?”

“Because,” a woman’s voice, ringing with authority spoke nearby, startling [Yn], or as close as she could get to startled through her foggy mind. [Yn] had only heard one set of footsteps approaching, so this Hunnigan must have already been here, waiting outside [Yn]’s cell. That knowledge was a bit unnerving, to have a silent watcher with [Yn] being none the wiser. The voice continued, “This is where your assignment is.”

“What, am I stuck on guard duty?” The man was clearly joking, not expecting the response.

“Essentially yes, but not in the jail. Meet [Yn] [Ln].” The voices came closer, coupled with the echo of footsteps, “She was taken from an Umbrella facility a few days ago. I don’t have much information about the raid on the lab, or about Miss [Ln] here, but from what I understand our scientists were keeping her here to make sure she wasn’t infected with anything from the lab that would start an outbreak. She’s been cleared, and they need someone to watch her while they run more tests.”

“You have got to be kidding me Hunnigan. I’m supposed to babysit for a bunch of scientists while the assholes from that facility are still fugitives?! What the hell?!”

“They requested a seasoned operative to protect her. And besides that...Leon, I’m worried about you. Maybe this will be a good change of pace for you”

“Is this about last week? I told you, I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.” The man’s voice, Leon, was clearly displeased, and thinly veiled anger was boiling beneath the surface.

“Leon, the orders didn’t come from me, so don’t get snippy.” Hunnigan snapped back. Leon sighed.

“So is this some sort of weird form of punishment from the higher ups? The mission went smoothly, I was hardly a liability.” Leon was clearly still annoyed, but calmed down at the woman’s words.

“You are here to protect a key witness, according to the orders, nothing more to it. I didn’t even put your incident in the report.” Hunnigan’s voice was also more subdued. “The concern is mine, not DSO’s. I’m worried about my friend.” She said with emphasis, and Leon sighed again.

“I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little on edge. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It’s alright. I’m used to your abuse.”

“Abuse? That seems a little harsh.” [Yn] could hear the smile in the man’s voice. These two were obviously close. They laughed before getting back to business. “What else can you tell be about the situation. You said I’m not guarding the subject in here, so do we have a safehouse set up?”

“Well...You’re not going to like this, but we don’t have any safehouses to spare at the moment. Several were compromised and the few we have left are already taken.”

“So where am I supposed to take her?” There was an awkward pause.

“Your place is safe. Off the radar. Only a few people actually know where it is. That’s as secure as you can get.” Hunnigan’s voice was dripping with false cheer. Leon groaned loudly.

“I keep it secret for a reason Hunnigan. So that it stays safe and secure. You know I don’t bring work home with me.”

“Exactly!” Hunnigan continues, ignoring that last part, “So it’s clearly the best place to go. Glad we agree.” Leon groans again. “Or would you rather stay here?”

“Fine,” Leon sounded grumpy, but resigned, “What else you got?”

“That’s really it. You’re orders are to take [Yn] to a secure location and protect her until further notice.”

“That’s really all the information you have? What about the file on [Yn]?”

“There isn’t much in it. Most of it is restricted information. Our scientists...haven’t been very forthcoming.”

“Fine,” Leon growled again, “Do you at least know why she’s locked up? Couldn’t the lab technicians kept her with them if they had to run so many tests?”

“I really don’t know." Her voice softens, "But Leon, be nice to her ok? From the little I know and have seen...she’s been through a lot.”

“Be nice? As opposed to what? I’m nice.” There was a long silence, and [Yn] could practically hear the glare. “Whatever." His voice echoed back down the hall, "Open on twelve!” The clanking and grating of metal startled [Yn], and for the first time in who knows how long, she opened her eyes. She blinked several times, her eyes dry and not used to the light. A figure walked through the cell door, then paused. “What’s wrong with her?”

“For some reason the guards decided to sedate her.” [Yn]’s bleary vision tracked to the figure still outside the cell, to a woman in a suit jacket and matching pencil skirt, rectangular glasses perched on her nose. A quiet growl emanated from the figure in front of her, attracting [Yn]’s attention again.

The man before her wore a dark gray sweater beneath a brown leather jacket, jeans and hefty looking boots, but [Yn]’s gaze nervously stayed on the gun strapped to his thigh as he walked closer. He crouched down in front of the cot [Yn] was laying on, eyes taking in her form. She curled in on herself when she noticed the hidden anger on his face.

“I want the names of those guards, and whoever was in charge of them.” He rumbled.

“Already on it. I’ll send the list to your phone. Let me know if you need any help bashing skulls.” Leon smiled at that, throwing an amused glance over his shoulder, before turning his attention back to [Yn]. Leaning a little closer.

“Your name is [Yn] [Ln], right? I’m Agent Leon Kennedy, I’ll be in charge of keeping you safe for a while. Can you stand?”

[Yn] furrowed her brow and concentrated on her muscles, attempting to push herself off the mattress. She didn’t get very far before her arms gave out and she landed back to the pillow with a sigh of frustration, shaking her head. She looked up to see the displeasure return to Leon’s expression, eyes glittering with anger. [Yn] flinched back from the intense look.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Leon’s voice was muted and soft, his face clearing to a comforting smile, “I’m not mad at you.” He stood slowly and walked back out the cell door. “Hey, you!” He called, and a shuffle was heard down the hall, then quick steps approaching.

“Yes sir?” The man looked young, like he could still be a teenager, and had an odd look on his face that [Yn] could only describe as admiration, star struck gazing at Leon.

“Do you have a wheelchair or something I can use to get [Yn] to my car?” The boy, as he could hardly be called a man by his obvious youth, looked to [Yn] then back to Leon.

“Uh, I-I could go check. But I don’t remember seeing one.” Leon sighed in frustration.

“No, nevermind. I’ll handle it. Just be ready to open the doors when I come through.”

“Yes sir!” The boy ran back to his station, and Leon looked to Hunnigan.

“Add the current guard roster to that list of names.”

“You got it.”

Leon walked back to [Yn], kneeling on one knee by the bed. “I’m going to have to carry you, alright?” [Yn] gulped and nodded nervously, but when Leon reached toward her she involuntarily flinched away from him, and she couldn’t keep the sudden fear from her eyes. Leon looked damn near distraught. “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you, ok? I’m here to keep you safe. Here, can you take my hands?” Leon held out his hands, waiting for [Yn], who cautiously reached for him and put her hands in his. His hands were big and warm, and despite her apprehension, [Yn] felt her fears waning.

“Alright, good. Now I’m going to help you sit up.” Leon pulled gently, helping [Yn] slowly sit up until she was upright with her legs still stretched out on the bed. “Good, now put your hands on my shoulders.” His hands were still holding hers, but he waited for [Yn] to move, letting go only when she made contact with the smooth, cool leather. “You’re doing great [Yn], now I’m going to reach this arm around you, ok?” Once [Yn] nodded he moved his hand, keeping it brushing against her so she knew where it was at all times. As his fingers swept across her lower back, [Yn] couldn’t hold back a shiver, and Leon looked like he was holding back a grin. “Now this hand is going under your knees, alright?” [Yn] nodded again, and Leon trailed his fingers down her leg before reaching under her knees, placing his hand on her thigh so her legs were resting on his arm, and he leaned in, gently pulling her close. “Now I’m going to lift you. Ready?” At [Yn]’s nod Leon slowly lifted her from the bed onto his knee. “There, not so bad is it?”

For the first time [Yn] took a long look at his face. He had dark golden hair parted on the side, framing his face, cascading down just past his cheekbones, a bit of his fringe obscuring part of his face, falling over one eye. His cheekbones were well defined and his lips were full and curved into a warm smile that sparkled in his eyes. And his eyes, oh god his eyes, were like pools of ocean water, a shock of light blue that glittered with hidden humor. His breath was fanning [Yn]’s face with how close he was holding her, and her already hazy mind nearly shut down, overwhelmed by the beautiful man before her.

“You’re really pretty.” The words spilled out in a whisper past [Yn]’s absent thought filter. In wasn’t until a flush spread across Leon’s cheeks and his quiet, embarrassed laughter surrounded her that she realized she had said the words out loud.

“Um, thanks…” Leon looked thrown off by the unexpected compliment, the pink dusted on his cheeks creating an even more adorable picture. He cleared his throat and shook his head smiling. “Let’s get you to the car. I’m going to stand up, alright?” [Yn], feeling her own cheeks growing warm, nodded again and averted her eyes in embarrassment. Leon stood easily, shifting [Yn]’s weight so she was resting comfortably in his arms.

Leon carried [Yn] out of the cell, careful to avoid the hard metal bars. He said a quick goodbye to Hunnigan before walking down the hall towards the exit. The guard, upon seeing Leon approaching, hastily stood and fumbled with the controls in the guard booth. He got the door open and threw an awkward salute, which Leon returned with a nod.

The medicine was finally clearing [Yn]’s system, but the swaying motion of Leon’s step were reminding her of the woozy feeling she had woken up to, and bringing up flashes of the concerned guard that had slipped the needle into her arm hours, maybe days before, for all she knew. The memory had her anxiety flaring up again and in an attempt to flee them, [Yn] buried her face in Leon’s shoulder, hugging him closer with her arms around his neck. His breathing stopped for a moment, and she felt his head turn to look at her, but she stayed hidden, face pressed against the cool fabric of his jacket and breathing in his spicy scent.

Before long they reached the entrance of the building, a member of the staff, maybe another guard, jumping up to open the front door for them, following to help Leon open up the passenger door of his car parked out front. Leon muttered his thanks and [Yn] heard the footsteps quickly retreat before she was gently lowered to the seat. Leon carefully pried [Yn]’s hands from his jacket and buckled her in. He closed the door as lightly as possible before rounding the vehicle and sliding in behind the wheel. The car was cold, especially after being pressed close to Leon’s warm body, and the leather seats were unforgivingly chilly. [Yn] shivered, and as soon as Leon started the car he cranked the heat up.

“It will get warm in a second.” He stopped to look at his phone, his brows furrowed in concentration as he read whatever words were displayed. “It looks like we have a drop to pick up with clothes and supplies for you. Good, you can finally get out of those awful scrubs.” [Yn] looked down at herself, noticing for the first time that she was wearing generic hospital scrubs, luckily with a white, long sleeved shirt underneath to keep the worst of the chill out. She tried to remember when she had been changed out of her other clothes, but when no memory was forthcoming, she let it go. Leon put his phone in a cradle on the dashboard, buckling his seatbelt and looking over to [Yn].

“After when get the drop, how about we pick up something to eat. I’m starving, and I don’t know what kind of bland crackers and water diet you’ve been on, but I’m sure you’re ready for some real food.” [Yn] smiled brightly at the thought, and Leon’s answering grin was dazzling. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He said with a chuckle, before driving away from the abysmal building, leaving another hell far behind.

Chapter 2

@chloe-3-price @mitsuintheworks @imagineleonkennedy @locus-desperatus @dreamymuse @guettaes @crystaldwightsworld @biohazard4ever

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 11 of don’t read the last page is here!

[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]

“What would I do without you, Kris?”

“Have to pay for a professional driver, I guess.”

“Way to ruin the sweet moment,” she’d murmured, but by the way she had nestled closer to his chest, he’d known he hadn’t really.

chapter 11: transitions

Some people, he presumed, would find it sexy, all the sneaking around and clandestine meet-ups and whispered phone calls. It was all very exciting in a way, standing around in parking lots and waiting for an SUV with newly-tinted windows to roll up and collect him, but he was already missing the ease of just running down to meet her in the parking lot and sweeping her up into an embrace before she’d had a chance to say hello.

There were no parking lot kisses for them anymore, especially not at his apartment complex, not after last weekend’s news article announcing newcomer Anna Arendelle had been cast in the title role of the live-action remake of Anastasia, alongside-- what was that guy’s name? Henry, or Hank or something; no, it sounded vaguely European...well, whatever it was, in Kristoff’s opinion, he wore far too much hair gel. And he was apparently very famous, and it was a huge deal for the movie and Anna’s career that they were playing opposite each other, and that meant the paparazzi were going overboard trying to get photos of her. As if it hadn’t already been bad enough that she was the biggest breakout star of the year, according to all the clickbait websites; the whole world loved Anna Arendelle now, was going absolutely crazy over her and her “down-to-earth presence” and “hilarious Twitter feed” and “all those gorgeous freckles” that were apparently starting a new skincare craze.

Perhaps the only person more exhausted by it all than him was Anna herself. “It’s not that I’m, like, ungrateful,” she had explained to him one night last week after an interview as they had huddled in the backseat of her car, parked behind a KFC that was undergoing renovations while they waited to make sure the coast was clear before driving to her apartment. “I mean, the fans are great, and I’m glad I like, make them happy and stuff. But Jesus, I just want to be just me again for a little while. I can’t even walk around in your fucking t-shirts anymore without people speculating which thrift shop I got them from and tweeting me a million times about it.”

She had been in the middle of changing into one of those t-shirts as she spoke, and it was jarring, almost, to see the contrast between the faded cotton and the thick layer of makeup she was still wearing. It looked beautiful under the stage lights, but now up close it just felt like one more barrier keeping him from her.

And then she had seen the sadness in his eyes and clambered into his lap and thrown her arms around him, and it was like nothing had changed at all. “Well, I love you,” he had reassured her with a kiss on her forehead. “Just-you you, and famous actress you, and Twitter you, and any other kind of you there is.”

She’d pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “What would I do without you, Kris?”

“Have to pay for a professional driver, I guess.”

“Way to ruin the sweet moment,” she’d murmured, but by the way she had nestled closer to his chest, he’d known he hadn’t really.

But now she was knee-deep in rehearsals and costume fittings, and he was gearing up for the end of his final semester before clinicals and still working at least three days a week, and since she refused to spend the night at his place for fear someone would find him and stalk him, he hadn’t seen her since that single hour they’d spent together in the car nearly a week ago. 

The first night after everything had blown up, when she’d been planning on staying the night and instead had called him in tears, she had apologized over and over. “I had no idea it would be like this, Kris, I know I promised to come but I just keep running into people everywhere who recognize me now, and I can’t do that to you, I just can’t--”

He’d let her go on for a while, knowing she needed to get it out of her system, but when she’d finally paused to draw in a ragged breath, he had said as calmly as possible, “Anna. I don’t love you any less because of this. We’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay, okay, I’m just really s--”

“Don’t, baby, please, okay? Do you need me to come pick you up?”

“No, I-- I know you have class in the morning, just-- will you stay on the phone with me? God, I just-- I just really, really was looking forward to spending the night with you.”

He had been, too. And he was again now; tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and he’d had the week off from classes, but she had been so overwhelmed with rehearsals and fittings and endless interviews for the past month that even if she hadn’t been dodging paparazzi, there would have hardly been any time to see each other. But they were going to spend the next three days at his parents’ house, three whole days where only his younger siblings’ giggles would keep him from holding her. 

“And Saturday and Sunday,” Anna had said over the phone when he told her his parents had invited her to come along. “Elsa and Honey are going to the mountains for the weekend, so we’ll have my whole apartment to ourselves and no weird ‘my older sister is in the next room’ vibes. If you want to come over, I mean.”

Of course he did, and he had told her in no uncertain terms exactly what he would spend the weekend doing, until he could practically hear her blushing as she said, “Jesus, Kristoff, give me one good reason not to come pick you up so we can hole up in a hotel for the next twenty-four hours straight.”

At the time, he’d had a reason, but a week later he was wondering what the hell it had been. He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to think of roasted turkeys and watching football with his dad instead of Anna’s hands running all over him and her lips against his skin and her hair spilling out over his pillow-- and then he sighted her car finally pulling up to pick him up from the deserted parking lot behind the biology lab on the far end of his campus, and he could think about her all he wanted because finally she was here.

Apparently even the time it would take for him to walk over to the car from where he’d been standing under an awning was too long; the moment the lights switched off, Anna jumped out and ran over to him, her arms already extended. She jumped into his arms with the same desperation she had had when he had dropped her off at the airport all those months ago, tangling her fingers in his hair and kissing him like it had been six years and not six days.

“I missed you,” she managed to say between kisses. “Fuck, longest week of my life, Kris.”

He pulled back enough to get a good luck at her, worry pooling in his chest when he saw the dark circles under her eyes. “Well, we’ve got five days together now, yeah? You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

She leaned her forehead against his, drawing a deep breath as their eyes met. “We gotta find something better than just sneaking around and seeing each other for an hour every couple days.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I’ve kind of gotten used to having you around.”

“Gee, thanks,” she teased, kissing the bridge of his nose.

He wanted to keep holding her like this, wanted to pull her in for another kiss and feel her sigh against him and whisper that he loved her until he went hoarse. Instead he set her down and affectionately nudged his elbow against her arm. “You know what I mean. I keep rolling over in the night and reaching for you or like, expecting to come home and find you fighting with Sven about Call of Duty.”

Anna laughed as they walked towards her car hand-in-hand. “That started out really romantic and then just reminded me that I really owe him an ass-kicking. I-- wait, actually…”

He paused by the back of the car, raising an eyebrow. Anna blushed as she met his gaze. “Um. Can you drive?” she asked hesitantly. “Um. Don’t laugh, but, like...fuck. Okay. This is dumb--”

“Anna. Just say it.”

“I just...miss how like, how when you drive you put your hand on my knee because like. I don’t know.”

He went without further comment to the other side of the car, a smile playing at the corner of his lips as he moved the seat back. When there was finally enough room for his legs, he climbed in; Anna was setting something wrapped in foil in her lap, smoothing down the edges where she’d just taken a quick peek at it.

“What’s that?” Kristoff asked as he turned the keys.

“I, um. I made a pie. From scratch, seriously, Elsa nearly killed me when she saw all the flour on the counter, but I didn’t want to just show up empty-handed or with just a can of cranberry sauce or something, and I know your sisters like chocolate so I figured fudge pie would be good and keep in the fridge tonight until--”

He leaned over and kissed her until he felt her relax. “Thank you for doing that,” he said, brushing the tip of his nose over hers. “It’ll mean a lot to my mom.”

She looked at him with so much love in her eyes then, the way that was beginning to frighten him. It wasn’t her that scared him, not at all; he would be overjoyed to spend the rest of his life with her looking at him that way. But he had this absurd idea in the back of his mind that if she kept showering that much love on him all at once, she would run out of it quicker and then...well. She was still Anna, so she wouldn’t just completely cast him aside, but a gentle letdown seemed more and more likely every day as her star shone a little brighter each passing hour, and still she poured so much time and affection onto him of all people. He wished she would slow down, pace herself; he’d take a few less “I love yous” if it meant dragging out the inevitable a little longer.

He didn’t dare breathe a word of how he felt to Anna. He knew it would devastate her to hear it. It wasn’t that he doubted her; she loved him well and so completely he wondered sometimes how he had lived before it. And of course he loved her too, more than anything, and yes, like he reassured her over and over again when she began to worry about all the new Annas she was expected to be, she was still her, which meant she was his favorite person in the world, but that was the problem: she had always been her, always destined for bright and beautiful things, and he had always been him, and sometimes just loving someone wasn’t enough.

“Kris?”

He blinked; he had been so focused on his thoughts and getting started on the drive that he hadn’t heard her. He reached over and squeezed her knee. “Sorry, baby, what is it?”

“Can we make a detour? I’ll, uh-- it’s hard to find with GPS, I mean, so I’ll tell you the way. And it’ll be fast, I promise.”

He shot her a quick glance before turning onto the interstate. Why did she look so nervous all of a sudden? “Sure, no problem.”

They stayed on the interstate for a while, until they were nearly to Santa Clarita, and then she set her hand over his where it rested on her knee and squeezed. “Take this exit,” she said, and he did so silently, not understanding what she was doing and not trusting himself to say the right thing.

She directed him down a series of roads until they were just past the outskirts of town, and then she pointed towards a gravel lined path he nearly missed. “Sorry,” she said when he swerved to make the turn, “it’s, uh, like I said, hard to find. Which is, um. What I was looking for.”

He opened his mouth, a question finally forming, but then they passed through a line of trees into a cleared glade, and the words died in his throat.

It was a little house with blue shutters and a small porch; only one story, but with plenty of wide windows to let in the light, and there was a “For Sale” sign out front. After several long moments, he turned to Anna, and saw a little smile curling at the corners of her mouth.

“It’s-- it’s not that expensive, really,” she said, her voice wobbling a little, “I mean, I can’t buy it outright, but since they’re paying me week by week during rehearsals I can do the down payment and mortgage easy, and it’s out of the way so no one would find it, and-- and Elsa came and looked at it for me a few days ago and sent me pictures of the inside and it’s really nice, and I know-- I know…”

She trailed off and took a deep breath. “Um. I mean. I looked at other houses, but I kind of liked this one the most because...well. It’s out of the way, like I said, but since it’s north of town it’s only like thirty minutes from where you said your clinicals would be, and like-- I’m not saying that to, you know, make you feel obligated or anything, but just-- well, I mean, I really love you. And you just...I don’t know, I kind of thought maybe you would want it too, and it would make a lot of stuff easier on us, and if you say no I totally get it but, um-- do you think maybe you’d want to live here with me?”

Yes, he wanted to say, yes, my god, you don’t even have to ask, give me the chance to fall asleep with you in my arms and wake up to find you still there, let me make you breakfast every Saturday and let me start a garden out front full of only sunflowers and let this be our home for as long as it can.

Instead he swallowed hard and asked, “Are you sure about this, Anna? I...don’t know if this is a good idea.”

He had never seen her face fall so fast.