#got here ten minutes late no coffee hadn’t taken my meds

[milocelium]

anyone else have a fucking horrible start to the day???

#turned off my alarm and went back to sleep #woke up 5 minutes before i needed to leave #left late and it was POURING rain so i had to drive slow #got here ten minutes late no coffee hadn’t taken my meds #and i’m supposed to train people outside today. thankfully my partner said we could take turns so i’m still inside for now #and i’ve had coffee and my meds #but god. kms kms kms

[thebookreader12345]

Identity Loss - Chapter Three

Chapter One     Chapter Two

It had been about a week since my apparent accident, and my memories still hadn’t come back, no matter how much I tried to get them to resurface. Will was trying to help me out too. Whenever he wasn’t working, he was doing things that we used to love, or ordering foods I used to enjoy. The hope was that maybe something would click a memory, but so far, nothing had worked. 

I groaned as the alarm clock next to be beeped for the hundredth time, and reached over to turn it off for good. I had been trying to get some more sleep, but every ten minutes, the alarm would blare in my ear, jolting me out of my sleep. Since  that obviously wasn’t working out, I guess it was time for me to get up. I sat up and stretched my arms above my head, enjoying the feeling of stretching my stiff limbs. I then pushed the blanket off of my body and climbed out of the bed, slipping on the slippers that were right next to me. Padding out to the living room, a yawn escaped my lips, and just as it did, the front door to the apartment opened, and Will stepped inside.

“Hey,” Will greeted and set him stuff down before scanning me up and down. When he saw that I was still in my pajamas, he frowned. “Did you just wake up?”

“Uh, yeah. Why?” I question and run a hand through my hair, which was probably a mess at the moment, but I didn’t care.

“Y/N, it’s time for lunch,” Will noted.

“I reckon I didn’t use to sleep in this late,” I guess and make my way to the kitchen to make some coffee.

“No. You were more of an early bird. Are those my slippers?” Will quizzed as he glanced down at my feet. I looked down at the house shoes covering my feet, and a slight blush tinted my cheeks as I noticed that I was indeed wearing Will’s slippers.

“Oh. Uh, sorry,” I confess.

Will smiled. “No worries. You uh, you actually used to do that quite a lot.”

I stopped making coffee to turn and look at him. “What are you saying? Is this a repressed memory coming back or something?”

Will shrugged. “No idea. But it’s a start.”

“So, what are you doing back so early? You’re supposed to be at work,” I point out.

“Ms. Goodwin let me take a half day. I’ve got a bunch of plans for us,” Will told me. “We’re gonna head downtown to see some of your favorite spots and then we’re going to-”

I cut Will off as a bit of anger swelled up inside of me. “What’s the point, Will? Ordering all of my favorite food didn’t work, and neither did doing all of my favorite activities, so this probably won’t either. Lets just face it. I’m never going to get my memories back.” I walked over to the couch and took a seat, pulling my knees up to my chest. Seconds later, Will did the same. He sat down on the cushion next to me and placed a comforting hand on my knee.

“Look, I know it may seem like you’re never going to remember anything. But trust me when I say that you will get your memories back. It may be today or next month, but it will happen. I’ve seen plenty of patients have similar accidents, and they’ve all come back, so I have hope that you’ll do the same. I just, I need you to have hope too,” Will explained. 

I took a deep breath, and all at once, the anger seemed to leave my body. This situation felt very familiar; Will trying to calm me down just by using his words. The little moments like these made me feel connected to my past self, and in a way, they filled me with content.

“Okay,” I murmur. “What have you got planned for us today?”

...............................................

Stop One: Buckingham Fountain

I stared up at the fountain in front of me, contemplating why my former self liked to come here. The fountain was beautiful in a majestic kind of way, but the current me would never go out of my way to come here.

“What’s the point of this place?” I ask Will, who was standing beside me admiring the fountain.

“It’s a fountain,” Will stated as if it were obvious. “You make a wish and throw a coin into the water, hoping that it will come true.”

“And I used to believe in this?” I question.

“A little, yeah,” Will confessed. “We came here on our first date, and you threw a coin into the fountain, wishing that our relationship would keep growing and stay strong forever. And look where we are now. We’re supposed to be getting married in a few months.” Will then took a quarter out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Here. Make a wish. Maybe it’ll come true.”

I hesitantly took the coin from his hand, staring down at the dull metal disc in my palm. I closed my fingers around the quarter and shut my eyes, thinking about the wish I wanted to make. But it didn’t take me that long to come up with one. I wish I could remember my old life. And with that, I tossed the coin into the fountain, watching as it sank to the floor where it settled in with all of the other wishes.

Stop Two: The Bean

I’ll admit, the Bean was pretty cool. It was just a large sculpture of a bean, but the way it was covered in one big mirror was what made it special. I loved the way you could see Chicago’s many skyscrapers from the reflective sides of the figure, and I also enjoyed the way the light bounced off of the statue.

“Wow,” I breathe out. “This is amazing.”

“Yeah. The old you used to think so too. You always came here when you wanted to be alone. Whether it was because of a tough shift at work or because you needed to make a big decision, you’d be here,” Will told me.

“Why do I get the feeling I used to come here after we had a big fight?” I question and turn to face Will.

Will laughed softly. “Because you did. One day during shift, we had a heated argument over the course of treatment for a patient, and after work you came here. I gave you some alone time before I drove down here so we could talk things out. We eventually figured things out, but that was the moment I knew I never wanted to lose you.”

Stop Three: The Riverwalk

The Riverwalk was filled with families and tons of smiling faces. There were college kids sitting around studying, parents watching their children talk excitedly, and even couples strolling alongside the river. I glanced over at Will, who was walking next to me, and my eyes traveled down to his hand. All I could think about was what it would be like to hold his hand and lace our fingers together. My eyes also caught sight of the engagement ring sitting on my finger. I kept it on, hoping it would help me remember my past life, but it didn’t do much seeing as I still had no memories.

“It’s a shame I can’t remember any of these places,” I say. “It seems like we had some good memories in all of them.”

“One of the perks of living in Chicago; there’s always something to see or do,” Will noted. Again, my gaze shifted down to Will’s hand, and the desperation to take hold of it overpowered me, so I did it. I reached over and took his hand in mine, entwining our fingers. Will didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to in order for me to understand that he didn’t mind. He didn’t pull his hand away, and he gave my hand a small squeeze, so we kept our hands locked together as we walked.

Stop Four: Lakefront Trail

“Here we are. The last stop,” Will announced as he parked the car. I climbed out of the passenger seat and took in the lake in front of us. The trail in front of us wasn’t as crowded as the Riverwalk, but every few seconds, someone either jogged by, walked along, or rode past on a bicycle. From where we were on the trail, the Chicago skyline stood in the distance, it’s tall buildings jutting into the bright sky. That’s when I recognized where we were. This was the Lakefront Trail, the same place where the engagement photo back at the apartment was taken.

“You recognize this?” Will asked me.

I nodded. “Yeah, but not from a memory. This is where that engagement photo in the living room was taken.”

“You actually picked out the destination,” Will spoke. “I wanted to do it on the beach, but you convinced me that this was a better spot.” For a few moments, the two of us stared at the horizon in silence, admiring the view. Finally though, I spoke up.

“Can I ask you something?” I question.

“Sure,” Will replied. “What’s up?”

“What happens if I don’t get my memories back?” I quiz.

“Y/N,” Will started, only for me to interrupt him.

“I’m serious, Will. Be honest with me here,” I plead. “What’s gonna happen to my career if I can’t remember anything? What’s gonna happen to us?”

Will sighed and kept his gaze trained at the lake in front of us. “I uh, I don’t know. I would love for you to get your memories back so that things could go back to the way they were before. And if that doesn’t happen, I guess you’ll have to start all over again. You know, figure out what you want to do. I don’t want to say this, but if that means we have to split up because you don’t want to be with me anymore, then so be it. I’m not going to force you to stay with me, and I’m definitely not going to force you to go back to Med if you don’t want to.”

“It’s funny that you bring that up. I remember everything I learned in med school to be a doctor. I could diagnose a patient right now if I wanted to, and I guarantee you that my diagnosis would be spot on. I don’t know why I can remember all sorts of illnesses and diseases, but not remember my life the way it was before, and that annoys me. All I want is for things just to go back to normal,” I let out.

“Yeah. Me too,” Will murmured. For a few more minutes the two of us stayed and took in the view, but Will soon turned his eyes away from the setting sun. “You ready to head back to the apartment?”

“Actually, there’s one more thing I want to do,” I declare and lean up, pressing my lips to his. All day, the one thing I wanted more than anything was to kiss Will and relish the way his lips feel against my own. And now, here I was doing just that. I cupped Will’s cheeks in my hands as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to his chest. One moment, I couldn’t remember anything, and the next, a rush of memories flooded my brain.

I remember Will and I’s first date at Buckingham Fountain, and the kiss we shared when he dropped me back off at my apartment. I remember staring at the Bean, hoping that it would help me figure out how to go home and face Will after we had an argument. I remember the countless walks Will and I shared on the Riverwalk. I remember taking the engagement photo here on the Lakefront Trail. And there were many more memories popping up in my head as well. Natalie, Maggie, and I drinking wine at on the couch in Nat’s house. Me helping Connor diagnose a cardio patient whose symptoms didn’t seem to fit any illness. April and I chatting away at the nurses’ station about our love lives. Will proposing to me in the lobby of Chicago Med. And I remembered my accident, the day my life went to hell.

“Y/N? You okay?” Will asked when he noticed that I had pulled away from him.

“Will, I remember. I remember everything,” I state. Will grinned widely and picked me up, spinning me around. When he placed me back on the ground, he swooped in and kissed me again, this time more passionately.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Will mumbled and leaned his forehead against mine. “I told you this would work.”

“Oh shut up,” I joke. “Mind if we head back to the apartment now? I’m kind of tired after today. Getting all of my memories back really wore me out.”

“Yeah. Of course. Lets go. There are so many things I want to you with you right now, but I think I can manage to hold them off until later. Lets go,” Will said and laced his hand with mine before leading me back to his car.

The Next Day...

“Will, the cafeteria is that way,” I point out as Will led me down a hallway towards the ED. I hadn’t eaten breakfast this morning, so I was pretty hungry at the moment.

“I know, but there’s something I’ve got to show you first. Come on,” Will ordered lightly. I continued following Will, and he led me all the way to the residents’ lounge, inside of which were all of my friends and co-workers.

“Welcome back Y/N!” they all shouted as Will and I entered the room. 

I smiled at all of the people in front of me and turned to Will. “Did you do this?”

Will shook his head. “As much as I would love to take credit for all of this, it was Natalie and Maggie’s idea.”

“Well, I guess I should go and thank them. And say hello to everyone else,” I add. “But I will come find you later. I believe the day of my accident, we were interrupted just before we were about to do something. I’d very much love to continue that.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Now go and talk to everyone else. You’ve spent enough time with me,” Will exclaimed.

“Okay,” I mutter and lean up to place a quick peck on his lips. “I love you.”

Will grinned. “I love you too. Always have, always will.”

THE END

..........................................

And that’s the end of the story! I hope you all enjoyed it. I know I certainly did. Comment down below your favorite chapter out of the three, and also tell me your favorite part of the story. Thanks for reading!

_____________________

Tag List:

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#one chicago #one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #one chicago imagines #chicago med #chicago med x reader #chicago med imagine #chicago med imagines #will halstead #will halstead x reader #will halstead imagines #will halstead imagine #x reader #imagine #imagines #multi chapter #multi chapter fic #romance #amnesia

[trashforhockeyguys]

Need The Sun -1- Tyler Seguin

A/N: It’s important for me to say that I do talk about the effects of a thyroid disorder or at least the effects that it has on me. Everyone is different, but the same side effects can be felt from other things as well.  Also, this is another series no one asked for, but you’re getting anyway.

Need The Sun to Break- James Bay

He was supposed to be coming home in a few hours. They’d had an early game to close out a road trip and had gotten on the plane right after. He’d called you just before take-off and promised to be home for dinner.

You knew you needed to get up, shower, and try to cook something. He always loved a home cooked meal after a long roadie. But you couldn’t get your body to work with you. You hadn’t had the energy to move nearly all week. You’d get up for food but would have to sit back down again by the time you reached the kitchen.

But you didn’t want to let him see you like this, you couldn’t let him see you like this. He’d worry. He always worried when you got into one of these. Your levels were off again, you knew that your doctors knew that. But it’d been so hard to get everything corrected. It took months to get it right the last time.

You took a deep breath and hauled yourself out of bed, determined to at least try and cook. But you were exhausted before you even hit the kitchen this time. Instead, you made your way to the couch, with a plan to sit for a few minutes and then push through it. You could drink a few cups of coffee and he wouldn’t know the difference when he came home.

But as soon as you sat down on the couch, you laid down, and next thing you knew you were asleep. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep again, you didn’t want to. But sleeping was just about the only thing your body could do. No matter how hard you fought it, you always ended up in the same place.

You’d been to the doctor again this week, but you had to wait for your bloodwork to come back before anything could be done. It seemed to be a routine, you’d have to adjust your meds at least once a year, six months of feeling amazing, and six of feeling awful.

You’d been dealing with this since your late teens though, it was nothing new. But in the last month or so it’d gotten so much worse. But you hadn’t told him, he’d been gone so much that it had been pretty easy to hide. You could muster up the energy you needed when he was home, and then crash when he left for practice or a game.

The other girls knew you were struggling, but they’d promised not to say anything to anyone. You didn’t need the whole team worrying about you. You’d been through that before, you didn’t need it again.

You didn’t know how long you’d been asleep when you felt the couch dip and a hand on your shoulder. You leaned into him without even realizing. He was smiling down at you when you finally opened your eyes. But even with the smile, you could see the worry hiding on his face.

“Hey, you’re home,” you whispered, trying to push yourself into a sitting position.

“I missed you,” He said softly, “Are you feeling okay?”

You nodded slowly, “Just time to fix my levels again, but I’m okay.”

“Baby-”

“I went yesterday,” You assured him, “Just waiting for everything to come back so we can figure out what to do.”

“Have you eaten today?” He asked.

You nodded, but you weren’t going to tell him that you’d only eaten some toast at breakfast. In addition to having no energy, your stomach had been really upset, which wasn’t unusual for you. But telling him any of that would just add to his worry, and you knew that.

“C’mon then,” He gently tugged on your arms to get you to stand, “It’s late, let’s get you back in bed.”

“But Ty-”

“I just want to get into bed with my wife, Y/N,” he sighed, “It’s been a long few weeks.”

He cracked a smile, “And I refuse to cuddle with Jamie.”

You leaned up to kiss him. Part of you felt bad, you’d meant for tonight to go a different way. You didn’t want to be asleep when he came home, you wanted to have a nice dinner on the table, maybe some wine.

Instead, though, Tyler slowly lead you towards your bedroom, the bed was messy and unmade, the covers still were thrown over the side from where you’d gotten up earlier. Luckily though, you’d been able to pick up the room itself yesterday, so it wasn’t a mess anymore.

He kissed the top of your head before gently pushing you to sit on the bed. You watched as he grabbed his suitcase, which he’d apparently dropped in here before waking you up. You pulled your knees up to your chest and waited.

The bed had been cold without him, even the dogs refused to sleep in the bed with you. It didn’t seem to matter how many blankets you used either, because you’d still be cold. You always seemed to be cold when he left, but this time was worse.

He grinned as he pulled out one of his sweatshirts and tossed it over to you. After two years of marriage, and a few years together before that, he’d figured out everything about you. You quickly pulled it over your head and took in the scent.

“Talk to me,” He whispered as you laid in bed together, “What’s going on?”

“I’m scared,” You admitted, “It’s never been this bad before. Even before I was diagnosed. I’m scared something else is going on.”

He pulled you close, tucking you into his chest, “It’ll be okay. We’ve been through worse together. You don’t need to panic until your lab work comes back.”

Neither one of you would understand just how much you’d panic though. But he kept assuring you that everything would be okay. That more than likely you just needed to change the dosage you were on, which was normally the problem. He held you all night as you told him everything, from what the dogs did while you were gone, to how many times you wished you could’ve gotten on a flight to be with him.

The next day, when you were feeling better, partially after a good night’s sleep, and partially because he was home, he showed you just how much he missed you, again and again. Neither one of you wanted to stop for anything. The hours were spent tangled up together, reacquainting yourselves with each other.

You realized that day that you’d never leave that bed if you could help it, so long as he was with you, you’d never go anywhere. You just wanted to be with him, as cheesy and cliché as that was. He was your rock, your home, the person who’d hold you and get you through anything.

Even with the disease that you’d had since your late teens, he hadn’t turned his back on you. He’d held you for hours after you’d finally gotten a diagnosis. Held you as you cried tears of joy and relief because you finally had answers, but also tears brought on by the sheer terror. Your body had betrayed itself, and that was the worst part of it all.

He’d been there during the process of getting your medications right, which was long and at times painful. He’d endured every mood swing, every lash out, and every breakdown. He’d taken care of you when you didn’t have the energy to even move, and gone on adventures with you when you’d had too much energy.

The proposal didn’t go as any of you had expected, you’d caught wind from the other guys that he was planning a nice date, something that you’d dreamed of. You’d been so excited, but when it came to it, you’d gotten into another episode where you could hardly move, you forced yourself to go to work but by the time you came home, you had nothing left.

So instead, he came over and crawled in bed and watched movies with you. Both of you ate pizza, even though it wasn’t a part of his diet. He spent hours trying to work out the knots in your shoulders, even though you tried to tell him he didn’t have to.

But when it came down to it, you knew he wouldn’t ask, so you made him. You pestered him until he finally got up and pulled the ring box out of his gym bag. He stated that this wasn’t how he wanted that night to go, and told you his grand plan for the proposal. You cried the whole time because truthfully marrying him was all you ever wanted. You didn’t see a future without him.

You couldn’t imagine your life in ten years without seeing him and maybe some kids, during the offseason on a boat, or the kids, proudly wearing his jersey, banging on the glass to get his attention during warmups. You couldn’t see a life without hockey, and the second family you gained from it. You didn’t have to think before you said yes.

When the two of you finally tied the knot a little over a year later, there wasn’t a shred of doubt in your mind, he was your forever. He was it for you, there wouldn’t be another person that would compare to him. You would never be able to love another man the way you loved him.

He held you in the kitchen before your next appointment, any other day he would’ve gone with you, but he had a practice that he couldn’t get out of and not for lack of trying. So, instead, he held you and continued to assure you that nothing would change between the two of you. You were going to be fine, and the two of you would go out for a nice dinner tonight and everything would be as it should.

“Nothing and I mean nothing Y/N, is going to change this,” he promised, “No stupid hormones, or lack thereof, okay?”

“You know there’s more to this,” You scolded, “There’s a lot-”

“A lot more than just hormones, yes baby I know,” he said softly, “But it’s going to be okay. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it, we always have.”

“I wish you could come with me, I might need a hand to hold,” You almost whimpered.

“I’ll be right here when you get back.”

You knew he meant it. He’d get out of practice not long before you’d get home. You knew he’d be waiting on the couch for you, probably with wine and ice cream. He’d probably have your favorite show pulled up and waiting for you, just like he always did.

The only thing that gave you the courage to walk into the doctor’s office was the promise that nothing would change, and you’d get through it together. You reminded yourself of it time and time again as you waited and twisted your wedding band around your finger.

Your appointment went almost as you’d expected. Your doctor talked you through how much your levels had changed, and what that meant as far as your new dosage, but what you didn’t expect was the question that came at the very end. The simple, almost innocent question that would completely rock your world. Nothing would be the same after that appointment, no matter what Tyler said. You wouldn’t be able to carry on as you always had. Not now.

“Are aware that you’re pregnant?”

#tyler seguin imagines #tyler seguin imagine #Tyler seguin fanfic #tyler seguin fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #nicolewritesthings

[imaginesmai]

Ubbe-The sweet baker and the bad biker (SOA AU) (5-FINAL)

A lot of fluff and just a little angst for the final part @worldisadirtyplace, I hope you like it!

Plot: hospitals are not Ubbe’s favourite place.

Ubbe hated hospital. As a member of SAMCRO, he wasn’t really used to them. If they had a problem, they solved them in the club; because showing up in the hospital with a bullet wound usually led up to unwanted questions. The first time he got shot was when he was eleven; he had been working with his father in the club, messing around with Jax probably, when some masked guys appeared. They came in shooting and killed his little brother Sigurd and nearly him too. He didn’t remember much about it, just an immense pain in his side for weeks. As he sat in a chair with his arm in a plaster and his body in pain, he wished he would have been shot again. If it could get you back to him, he would get shot a thousands times. Hell, he was willing to sacrifice himself if you would be safe. But that wasn’t the case.

The doctor that had taken you away hadn’t come back yet. In the waiting room, all the sons were resting on a chair. Tig was filling his third cup of coffee, Chibs was sleeping in four chairs and Hvitserk was trying to comfort his brother the best he could. But no words could erase the memory of your scared eyes against his, begging him to do something. Someone cleared his throat in front of him.

“Ubbe.” he found Aslaug looking at him with kind eyes. “Tig has called me. How are you, baby?”

Ubbe didn’t answered, he just looked back down to the floor. In that moment, he didn’t want to talk to anyone.

“Multiple lacerations caused by glass, bullet-wound in the shoulder and two broken knuckles along with a sprained knee.” Hvitserk answered after a while, seeing that his brother was back to look at the ground. ”He’s okay, mum. A little shaken up.”

Aslaug sighed and sat up in the chair next to Ubbe. With a silent nod, Hvitserk left to refill his cup of coffee and to smoke a cigarrete in the parking. That left Ubbe and Aslaug alone.

“Have you eaten something?” she asked softly, receiving silence. “Baby, you need to have dinner. It’s almost three a.m.”

Again, no response.  

“I… know I haven’t been the number one supporter of your relationship or the decisions that came out from it.” she said. “But I also know that she’s a good girl, Ubbe. I was just afraid she was going to take you away.”

“She wanted to meet you.” Ubbe spoke for the first time since he arrived. “Y/N talked about you sometimes, as a great woman. I told her you were not that special. You want to know what she told me? That you were amazing because you raised good men and managed to keep our family safe in difficult times. She knew you didn’t like her, but still stood up for you when I went to her ranting about you.”

“I-I didn’t know that.” Aslaug said, surprised; she knew you were a good person, but not as good as that. “She’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that.” he raised his voice a little, and after looking around talked lower. “You didn’t see her, mum. She was so scared. Crying and trembling while that… beast dragged her inside. And the-en, he was t-trying to choke her… a-and-“

Ubbe was interrupted by his own sob, that made him shake. Aslaug hugged his son and, soon, his head placed itself on her chest, and she was cradling him like a baby. She hadn’t liked you, that was sure. Aslaug had seen how her son tried to get out of a business that only meant death, how he was unfocused on his tasks because he was thinking of you. Protecting her family had been her first priority always, but she couldn’t have done anything to prevent his son’s heart breaking.

“Has the doctor said anything?” she asked after a while.

“Tig heard them talking about a girl who had to be taken into an emergency surgery. -he whispered.” We think that’s her. But the doctor hasn’t come back.

“He will, don’t worry Ubbe.” she smiled softly, running a hand through his hair. “And I know she will be fine.”

“I hope so, mum.” he sighed. “I hope so.”

One by one, the members of SAMCRO fell asleep against the chairs. The night went by and the doctor still wasn’t back. The only one who hadn’t come back was Hvitserk, who Ubbe had asked to go to your house, to keep an eye on Sully. Aslaug kept pacing through the corridor, managing to get some information out of a nurse. It seemed that one of your lungs was deadly damaged and they had to take it out before it was too late for you. You had been in two emergency surgeries; the first one, to get the damaged lung out of you caring of not crashing anything important. The second one, to give you a new on from an emergency donator. Aslaug really suspected it was from Mrs Lowman, yet they didn’t give away any information.

Ubbe was nearly asleep too when he heard the well-known paws of Sully in the corridor. He looked up to see Hvitserk with a running Sully by his side, who was too quiet. The dog looked around and sniffled for a bit before finding Ubbe and setting her head into his lap.

“Hey, girl.” he smiled sadly. “You missing your momma, hm? She’ll be here soon, I promise.”

“I thought I should bring her here.” Hvitserk said, sitting beside him. “She was whining and crying. I think she knows something has happened to Y/N.”

“She’s a smart girl.” Ubbe said, looking at Sully’s sad look. “How did you managed to get her in? I thought no dogs were allowed.”

“Might or might have not used my gun.” Hvitserk shrugged, earning a hard glare from Ubbe. “What? It’s just a dog, she won’t do anything bad. Will you, Sully? No, because you’re a good girl, right? Who’s a good girl?”

Ubbe let out a little laugh as he listened to his brother put a ridicule high-pitched voice for the dog, who wasn’t paying attention to him. He could almost feel the sadness radiating from the animal, who looked at the corridor with sad eyes. Petting her head helped him to take his mind out of the memory of your scared and bruised face, but he had to come back to the real world when no more than an hour later the doctor came out.

He had big bags under his eyes, and was getting bloodied gloves out of his hands; not that anyone saw that. His shoulders were heavy with tension, and his eyes were looking for someone.

“Mr Lothbrok?” he asked. “Or anyone related with Y/N Y-“

The doctor didn’t get to say your last name before, at least, ten people in the waiting room rose up from their seats. Ubbe understood the surprise in the doctor’s eyes; not always you could see more than ten SAMCRO members and a huge dog looking at you with expectant eyes.

“I-Is-“

“How is she?” Aslaug interrupted her son, who looked like he would faint.

“She…Y/N is fine.” he gave a weak smile. “We’ve almost lost her more times that I can count, but she’s safe for now.”

A chorus of happy sighs appeared in the room, and Ubbe felt Hvitserk hugging him while trying to get a hold on Sully. The dog, who had smelled you in the doctor’s clothes, was trying to get closer.

“Can I…is she awake?” Ubbe said with a small voice.

“Yeah, we’ve kept her in for a while because the anesthesia had to wore off. Sorry for the wait, guys.”

A look from Aslaug was all it took for Ubbe to follow the doctor. They walked through numerous corridors, filled with people and medical staff. A large window was following them all the way, and Ubbe realised the sun was starting to rise. The worry and the fear in his mind had clouded his time-passing senses; the whole club had been waiting in a shitty room for hours and he couldn’t be any more grateful.

Finally, they arrived to a white door with the number one hundred on it. Ubbe stood still for a while, looking at the oxide in the corners of the door and the stains in the walls. Deep down, he was scared. Scared to find you in a bed with a nearly broken body, to see you hanging from life or barely breathing. What scared him the most, however, was seeing your face. Maybe you were angry at him; you had every reason, he thought. Because of him you had been nearly killed, and, in some way, he would understand if you left him. That was the best possibility. If he saw your scared face once again, that time directed to him, he was sure he would die in a second. A cold hand on his shoulder made him look to his side.

“She’s fine, Mr Lothbrok.” the doctor gave him a soft smile.

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” he sighed. “I know she’s in good hands, but you don’t know what happened there. She might not want to see me again.”

“Well, I do know.” he let out a laugh. “Your girl is pretty talkative, you know? She wouldn’t stop talking about how you entered there between fireworks and war paint, to take her between your arms and save her.”

“What?” Ubbe smiled.

“She was pretty high on pain-meds, but I got the idea.” the doctor said. “Go and see her, she’s waiting for you.”

After a deep breath, he opened the door; and not a thousands wars could have prepared to see you. You were laying in a white bed, your hair sprawled in the pillow and the sun kissing your skin softly. That was the beautiful part. You also had an horrible bruise around your left eye, and your lip had a few stiches. The sheets were showing your collarbone, that was blue and black, and the hand where you had the IV was purple, along with your arm. Still, with a tube in your nose and a sore throat, you managed to smile.

“Hey stalker.” your voice was nothing more than a whisper, and made Ubbe’s eyes fill with tears. “You’re pretty banged up.”

“Have you looked at yourself, darling?” he let out a dry laugh, and walked towards the bed.

“Say that to my face.” you smiled softly.

His hand found yours and gave it a soft squeeze, almost afraid it would break. Ubbe had troubles sitting in the chair beside your bed, as his sprained knee didn’t bulge. It took him a minute to find a comfortable position in the chair, but he didn’t let go of your hand for a second. Almost afraid that you would disappear if he did so.

“Is everyone alright?” you asked.

“Sleeping out there, waiting to see you. Hvitserk was cuddling Sully when I left him.”

“She’s here?” your eyes lighted up.

“Of course, he brought her here last night.” Ubbe smiled

“And, Mrs Lowman?”

Ubbe’s silence was enough for you. You had suspected she hadn’t made it to the hospital, but the doctor hadn’t tell you anything. You tried to blink away the tears and calm your breathing before talking again.

“Is… her son here?”

“He’s on his way.” he sighed. “He was with his wife, preparing everything for the weeding.”

“God, Ubbe.” you let out a sob. “She-I saw how they killed her. I-I-“

“If you’re going to say you could have done something, don’t.” he frowned.

“But maybe everything would be alright if I hadn’t gone out! Halfsack would be-“

“Please, darling.” Ubbe ran a hand across your face. “Please, don’t blame this on you. He was more than willing to give his life for you, everyone is. You’ve charmed everything here, Y/N.”

You smiled through the tears and the pain, happy to be alive and to be with Ubbe again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One step at a time. It wasn’t that hard, wasn’t it? You had to move first your right foot and then the left one. The stairs of your flat weren’t even that high, they were just old. But you couldn’t seem to climb them. Ubbe had passed by your side on multiple occasions, his arms full of the things that you had accumulated in your hospital room during the two months you had stayed there. It wasn’t much, just some clothes, your computer and personal objects; yet Ubbe didn’t even let you carry your own coat. The third time he walked down the stairs you were ready to throw him out and wipe that stupid smirk off his face. He stopped by your side with his arms crossed.

“You need any help, darling?”

“I’m doing fine, thank you.” you scoffed, walking another step up.

“You sure? Because I’ve already passed by you two times.”

“Not my fault you are too fast.”

“Come on, even Hvitserk after a nap is faster than you.” he laughed. “Let me help you.”

He tried to reach for you, and you almost gave up when you smelt his aftershave and the cigarettes he had smoked outside. In general, Ubbe was too tempting to stay away from him, yet you turned your head to the other side.

“No, I’m fine. Let me do it.”

“Darling, I’m hosting you up.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I am. Be ready.”

“Ubbe, I swear- Ubbe!”

With ease, he took you in his arms like if you weighted nothing, and shut your complains with a short kiss. You kept rambling and talking under your breath, blushing and wishing you could do things on your own. Not that you were complaining with the treatment.

“You shouldn’t be carrying me with your knee.” you worried. His knee had been dislocated in the incident of you bakery, and he hadn’t been taking good care of it. When he was not with you in the hospital, he was working into the getting the club out of the illegal stuff.

“It’s been two months, Y/N. My knee is more than okay.”

“Well, you shouldn’t carry me because of your shoulder.”

“Healed too, darling.” he laughed.

“Because I should be able to do things on my own!” you said as he placed you down on your door. You crossed your arms and pouted, deep down wanting to be between his arms again.

“You have a new lung, it’s better if you don’t force yourself.” Ubbe pulled you into his arms, and you hugged his waist. “I just want to take care of you.”

“And I want to have a normal life.” you sighed. “Without feeling tired all the time.”

Ubbe kissed your hair, running his hand up and down your back. The guilt on his chest hadn’t disappeared yet, but he was becoming used to live with it. You were alive, between his arms and that was all that mattered. Your little peace was interrupted by your wonderful neighbour.

“Y/N!” David Hale’s voice made you tear apart. “I didn’t know you were coming home so soon.”

“It was an unexpected decision. “ you smiled, taking Ubbe’s hand after tearing away from him. “Doctor Alfred thought I was out of danger, and let me out after some warnings.”

“That’s good!” he smiled. “Will you be going back to the bakery then?”

“I-I still don’t know.” you shrugged, looking down. “I haven’t been there since… you know.”

The topic was still sensitive to you and to almost everyone in the club. Not only they have lost Halfsack, but it was also a reminder that they were never safe; not even his families.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” he frowned. “I didn’t mean to-“

“We’ve got things to do, Hale.” Ubbe rolled his eyes.

“Aren’t you a charmer, Lothbrok.” he scoffed. “Anyway, if you need help with anything, you know where to find me.”

A mischievous smile formed in Ubbe’s lips, and you already knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“Won’t be necessary, I’m moving in with her. “Ubbe smirked. “We won’t be needing for you.”

“That’s a surprise.” his eyes widened. “And the club?”

You rolled your eyes at his question, not having missed one a bit the constant bickering between your neighbour and your biker.

“That’s none of your-“

“They will manage without him, David.” you interrupted him, giving Ubbe’s hand a hard squeeze. “But thanks for your concern.”

“Yeah.” after an awkward silence, he let out a chuckle. “Who would have guessed.”

“Guess what?”

“That the sweet baker would end up with the bad biker.” David smiled. “I’m-I’m actually leaving town for a while, you know. Bigger chances out there. So I wish you the best.”

“I hope you’re happy out there, David.” Ubbe was trying to avoid you touching the deputy, yet you got your hand out of his iron grip with a hard tug. You could practically feel his pout while you gave David a quick hug.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for the poor souls that are going to get in your way.” Ubbe laughed, placing his arm on your shoulders.

The conversation died down quickly, and after one last hug, David left. Ubbe walked with you inside, and threw himself on the couch. He opened his arms, waiting for you to cuddle on his chest. The apartment was quiet, too quiet without Sully. While you moved Ubbe’s things into your apartment, you thought it was better if Sully was out; she tended to chew on the boxes and destroy some of your clothes. So you decided to leave her in the club house, and they were more than happy to have her. Hvitserk had become so in love with her he took her to the porn studio or to anywhere he went. Tig actually used her to get the girls, and even Aslaug smiled when she walked beside her.

“I already miss Sully.” you pouted. “This is too quiet without her.”

“She’ll be barking our ears off in no time.” Ubbe said. “I’m sure your neighbours don’t miss her. I hope they know what is coming. If I hear a complain about Sully, they’re going to have the whole club at their doors.”

“This is going to get crowded.” you pointed out. “I hope you aren’t too fond of your privacy.”

“The only thing I’m fond of is you, darling.” he gave a soft squeeze to your ass. “And this ass.”

“You’re the worst.” you laughed, kissing him slowly. “I liked how it sounds.”

“How it sounds what?”

“The sweet baker and the bad biker.” you pecked again his lips, making him whine like a child for more. “Although I would call it the clumsy baker and the whiny biker.”

“We can be whatever you want darling.” Ubbe smiled. “As long as we are together. “

Yeah, that sounded right. The sweet baker and the bad biker, forever and ever. Until a barking Sully tear you apart.

Want to know more about me? Here is my Masterlist! Feedback is always appreciated!!

#ubbe #ubbe imagine #ubbe one shot #ubbe x reader #ubbe au #vikings soa crossover #vikings imagine #vikings x reader #vikings #vikings one shot #soa #soa imagine #soa x reader #soa one shot #imaginemai #the sweet baker and the bad biker

[janelevy]

sinkhole

requested by @thena0315

summary: on her way to work one morning, ava ends up in a sticky situation and has to rely on her skills to help others before paramedics arrive. nothing romantic here, just our fave being a badass!

warnings: some descriptions of injuries, nothing super gory. just lots of blood. also minimal swearing

also by the way, i finally figured out how to allow anonymous asks, so if anyone prefers to send asks/prompts on anon y’all should be able to do that now! thanks <3

Ava was running a little more behind schedule than she would’ve liked, but she knew a decent shortcut to get to Med. Switching lanes, she turned her car away from Monday morning traffic and took an exit off the freeway.

Her day hadn’t gotten off to the best start. Somehow she slept through her alarm, then she didn’t realize she threw on her scrub shirt backwards until people gave her weird looks in Starbucks. On top of that, she woke up to a missed call from her mother and judging by the length of the message she left, it wasn’t a happy “How are you?” kind of call. Oh, and of course - it was raining. If April showers bring May flowers, then what do May showers bring? June floods? Ava thought to herself with a sigh. She slowed at a stop sign, glanced left then right, then proceeded into her shortcut through the neighborhood.

She yawned - somehow she was still tired despite getting more sleep than intended - and watched her windshield wipers work through the drizzle. She coasted to another stop sign; a fleeting glance in her rearview mirror showed a tailgater who literally appeared out of thin air behind her. Ava rolled her eyes and continued forward... then downward.

It was like the road surface below her car’s tires turned to liquid. One second she could see the overcast rainy sky, then the next second she was several feet below ground with dirt crumbled over her windshield.

It all happened so fast that it took a minute for her to recover. As soon as the numbness of shock wore off, Ava registered the feeling of her heart crawling uneasily up her throat. “Shit,” she panted, unbuckling her seatbelt and trying to open her door. At first it didn’t budge, but after a few more solid kicks and shoves, it fell completely off its hinges and rested on a large chunk of earth with a groan. She stumbled out, steadying herself against the side of her now thoroughly busted-up car. Damn, she was so close to having it paid off, too.

Then for the first time, Ava fully took in her surroundings. The tailgater’s truck had also tumbled into this pit with her, and the guy didn’t look to be in great shape. A car that had been parked above but appeared to be empty had also fallen in with them, and other than that Ava couldn’t see any sign of life. She drew in a stinging breath filled with dust and dirt, then tried to move toward the truck. The crumbly earth below her feet definitely didn’t feel sturdy, so she kept her steps steady and light. The rain still coming down made the ground too slippery and muddy.

Everything around her was deadly quiet. It felt like it was just them, rain-slicked mud, and the sky, which was now much higher above than before. Ava picked her way over to the pickup in about a minute and once she arrived she surveyed the scene. It looked like the truck had taken a direct nose dive into the sinkhole if the busted-up front end indicated anything. The passenger side airbags had deployed, but the driver’s hadn’t, which explained the mask of blood that now coated his lower face. He moaned, eyes lazily flicking to her as she reached through the open window for the lock.

“What...” he mumbled, and the rest of his question turned into a violent cough. Ava noticed more blood splatter on the steering wheel, so she started working faster. Blindly her fingers scrabbled around the inside of the door until they found the door lock, which she flipped the other way before she stepped back and wrenched the door open. 

From a brief examination, it looked like the worst of his injuries was blunt force trauma to his face and chest from slamming into the steering wheel. He definitely had the grounds to sue the manufacturer of his truck’s shitty airbags. Ava nudged the door open the rest of the way and moved in closer, running her hands firmly over the man’s torso. He seemed pretty out of it, but she hoped to at least get a name and pain rating out of him.

“Hey, hey. What’s your name?” she asked, hands pausing at the base of his ribcage.

He winced and twisted his head away from her. “M- Mark,” he grunted through gritted teeth. “Who are y...” He trailed off, doubling over when her hands found a particularly bad spot.

“Okay, Mark. My name is Ava, I’m a doctor.” Gingerly she pressed on the area again, and a whimper escaped Mark’s throat. She would best be able to tell what was the problem if she could cut through his shirt, but she had a hunch Mark wouldn’t be a fan of that idea. Instead, she let another question speed off her tongue. “On a scale from one to ten, one being nothing and ten being excruciating, how is your pain here?”

One last time, she applied pressure, and Mark leaned forward again while trying to swat her away. “God dammit! Ten. It’s a ten. Eleven, if you like. Seems you’re... trying to make it an eleven.”

“I’m just assessing the severity of the wound.” Ava removed her hands and glanced back at her car. Now that she knew he was stable, she felt better going back for her phone. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to call for help.”

Within a few minutes Ava was back at Mark’s truck and was on the phone with 911. “Hello, my name is Ava Bekker and I’ve been caught in an accident with one other victim.”

“... wait, wait, Dr. Bekker? That’s you?” the voice on the other end demanded.

“Yes?” Ava stood with one hand on her hip, squinting around at the mounds of dirt. She could’ve sworn she heard another voice on her way back over here.

“I know you! You were my mother’s surgeon last year.” Ava’s impatience was already starting to come to a head, but luckily the operator got back on topic. “Anyway, what happened? Where are you?”

Ava frowned as she tried to recall the intersection she’d been at before literally falling into the ground. “Um... I believe we’re somewhere near the intersection of Buttonwood and... Oak Streets? A sinkhole opened up in the Englewood neighborhood a few blocks from Med. I’m sure it’ll be hard to miss it.” Her eyes flicked down to Mark, who was still sitting dazed and breathing heavily. “I’m fine but I have a man here in his late forties, early fifties who has blunt force trauma to the face and chest. Some broken teeth, definitely some bruising and broken ribs. Possibly dealing with flail chest, but I have limited resources. Not exactly an OR down here.”

Right as the operator began to reply, Ava distinctly heard a soft call for help. “Hold on,” she said and held the phone away from her ear. “Hello?” she yelled, throat hoarse as she tiptoed over the loose ground toward a pile of earth. “Hello? Is there someone else there?”

“Help!” There it was again. Ava knelt down and brushed away several layers of dirt to discover a woman slathered in mud and cuts of various sizes and depths. Ava worked to uncover more of her body. “Make that two victims,” she barked into the phone, then froze. The woman was trapped, alright; a heavy rock was planted on her left leg, nearly crushing it into two pieces. Blood was everywhere.

“I- I was walking my dog and... and the ground just...” The woman threw her head back, and Ava noticed another gushing laceration on the side of her scalp.

“Just opened up, right? I know. One minute I was in my car on the road, then the next I was down here.” Ava did her best to smile at her despite the situation and her exhaustion. God, she was still probably going to have to work a full shift after all this. Fuck Mondays.

Ava took in the mangled leg and the blood pouring incessantly from where the boulder sat on what had to be a pulverized kneecap. Instinctively she took off her scrub top, leaving on the thin long sleeve t-shirt underneath, and pressed the black garment to the wound to act as gauze and absorb the blood. Right away it became clear that wouldn’t be enough. She needed a makeshift tourniquet to curb the bleeding. Ava made her way back over to her car, then was back in a flash with the only piece of fabric long enough to be sufficient: her white coat. It was one of her older ones anyway, and she had plenty of others, not that she cared. She slid the coat beneath the leg, and the woman let out a sob. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay,” Ava muttered, concentrating on tying the coat tightly above the injury while continuing to press her soaked scrubs on it. She could bleach these all she wanted but there was no coming back from this.

Then, at long last, she heard the sirens. Ava hung up on the operator and looked up; the faces of many first responders peered back down at her. She waved and yelled, “We have to work fast, I have two critical patients down here!”

It took a good thirty minutes, but eventually Ava was back aboveground. Of course she allowed Mark and the woman to be carried up first. Once she was back up, they offered a ride in an ambulance and she accepted. She wasn’t about to stick around to watch them bring up the vehicles - she’d already retrieved her important documents and her still-warm coffee from her car, anyway.

The first person Ava saw upon walking through the ED doors was Maggie, who stood at the desk with her jaw on the floor. “Ava! Don’t tell me you were in that sinkhole, too?”

Ava sipped her coffee and leaned on the counter. Only now was she really feeling the pain and exhaustion deep in her bones; the adrenaline was wearing off. “Yes. Thought I’d take a shortcut to work. Now I have to go car shopping again.”

Maggie shook her head in awe, then Ava looked over and spotted Connor emerging from a consult in treatment five. He noticed her too and finished rubbing hand sanitizer into his hands as he jogged over. “Ava! Where have you been? You’re never late.” Then he halted and gave her a once-over. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks. So do you.” She grinned and patted his shoulder as she brushed past him. “I don’t think I need an exam, but I know it’s a good idea. So make it quick, because I have an operation in an hour.” And without protest, he followed her.

#chicago med #ava bekker #fanfic

[softlyjackson-blog]

spin the bottle | kim kibum x reader

Dear @baselinecult: 

Happy birthday, Leila! You are one of my best friends and I’m so thankful to you for always being there for me. Here’s a fic that I hope you’ll love. Also, I changed my mind - it’s not exactly enemies to lovers but I hope you’ll like it regardless. x

Pairing: kibum x reader

genre: oneshot

words in this chapter: 1.3k

Summary: Life was moving quicker than you knew how to deal with. Your boyfriend had dumped you in the summer but before you even had the time to lick your wounds, you were off to med school with your best friend - who, being in her second year already, had made the promise to set you up with the cutest boy she knew.

It hadn’t even occurred to you that that boy could be Kim Kibum, the funny, flirty, and far too attractive for his own good boy that you’d had a crush on for the majority of your time in high school.

After all, how was she supposed to know? You’d never told anyone.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“That’s a little harsh - I thought he was cute!” Seulgi frowned, disappointed at your reaction to the boy that she’d pointed out across the on-campus Starbucks.

You realised that you’d said that out loud. “No, no, that’s not what I meant - he’s cute. He definitely is. But he’s from our old school!”

She sighed and twisted a strand of silky dark hair around her finger as she watched Kibum order an iced coffee. “Maybe so. But he’s the cutest boy here.” She tapped her phone screen to check the time and her eyes widened almost comically. “Oh my god, it’s three minutes after. Why didn’t you tell me? I’m late for my lecture!”

You suppressed a giggle, having already told her at least four times. In your years of friendship with Seulgi, you’d long given up on trying to get her places on time.

She grabbed her backpack off the floor and tipped the remains of her frappuccino into her mouth, half-walking and half-running across the floor to dump the plastic cup in the bin and head out of the door. Hand on the handle, she paused and turned around to face you.

“Party! Tonight! Minho’s at ten,” she shouted, before leaving.

You would have rolled your eyes, had she been there to see. As much as you needed a night out, it would be your first party since the term had started a couple of weeks ago. You didn’t really know anyone yet - and you knew from experience that parties really weren’t the best places to people, especially people who you were going to spend the next few years completing a medicine degree with.

Across the room, Kibum sat at a table with a couple of friends, laughing at a story someone was telling. He was gorgeous, Seulgi was right. His hair fell into his eyes, and when his cheekbones hit the light, it -

You shook yourself out of it. You’d go to the party, mostly because you didn’t have anything else to do. And you’d avoid Kibum at all costs. Med school was a fresh start and you didn’t want to spend any time antagonising over boys. Especially boys that you’d already spent enough time antagonising over.

He noticed you staring and caught your eye, smiling. You looked away, quickly, and pretended to stare at the textbook that lay open on the table.

The real question, of course, lay in what to wear.

From outside Minho’s apartment, you could hear the bass of the music playing inside, as well as shouts and laughter. You were nervous, but in firm denial of it. You’d opted for high-waisted denim shorts, a black ribbed bodysuit, and black high heels - only after texting Seulgi after realising you had no idea how formal the dress code was. You pushed the doorbell.

You heard someone walking up to the front door and a second later Minho dramatically swung it open and hugged you. You’d only hung out with him a few times but he was friends with everyone, possibly being the nicest guy you’d ever met. He was also gorgeous, and not just gorgeous to the other girls and boys in your shared classes - the kind of gorgeous that had made people stop in the middle of the street to stare when you’d taken a trip to McDonald’s together a few days before. He wasn’t your type, though, and you were more than happy to remain as friends. Besides, the boy standing shyly behind him - Jinki? - had one hand on the small of Minho’s back and slightly swollen lips. It hadn’t occurred to you for a moment that Minho would be even remotely interested in girls.

“Y/n, I was hoping you’d be here! Come inside, come inside,” he ushered, grabbing your jacket and hanging it by the door. You couldn’t help but smile at his overdramatic hospitality. “Thanks, Minho. Have you seen Seulgi?”

By now you were in the living room, where most of the party was taking place. Minho, being taller than the majority of his guests, craned his neck and scanned the room. “Doesn’t look like she’s here yet.”

Your eyes were instantly drawn to who was here. Kibum, in black jeans and an oversized band t-shirt, held a can of cider in one hand and the waist of a girl in the other.

Why the hell did you feel jealous?

The doorbell rang again and he smiled his apologies, running to answer it. You made your way to an uninhibited corner and pulled out your phone to text Seulgi.

You:

Where are you? I’m alone!

Seulgi:

SHIt im on my way. Curlers broke. Give me 15min

You knew for a fact that fifteen minutes meant at least half an hour. You started making your way to the kitchen to find something to drink, but were interrupted by Minho’s loud voice.

“Everybody gather round!”

Well, it’s not like you had anything else to do.

“We’re going to play a game. Seven minutes in heaven, to be exact.”

A few wolf whistles. For the second time that day, you suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. You’d played your fair share of seven minutes in heaven between the ages of 13 and 16. Still, maybe it would be a good way to get to know the people here.

Minho produced an empty beer bottle and carefully laid it on the floor in the middle of the rough circle that his guests had made. He spun it.

The bottle slowed and stilled, pointing directly at you. You felt your face warm up.

“Y/n, and…”

He spun it again, and you couldn’t believe it. Kibum’s eyes met yours and he smirked, recognising you instantly.

“In you go, lovebirds!” came the yell, and the two of you were pushed into the pantry. Someone jokingly threw a condom in after you and through the slats of the door you could hear: “Your time starts NOW!”

You met Kibum’s eyes. He smirked again and your heart missed a couple of beats.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, y/n. Med school?”

“Well, yeah. I want to be a doctor. I didn’t know you did, too.”

“Not a doctor. Well - I want to be a paediatrician.”

You hadn’t seen that one coming. “Kim Kibum wants to spend his days working with kids? The more you know, I guess.”

He laughed gently. He’d grown up a lot since you’d last seen him, at school. Only traces remained of the boy whose name you’d doodled on pieces of paper and whose Instagram you’d scrolled through into the early hours of the morning.

“What do you wanna do for, like, six minutes?” he teased.

“I can think of a few things…” you half-whispered.

He closed the distance between you in a single step and all the air suddenly left your lungs. You looked up into his eyes, only centimetres away, and realised that Kibum was the most beautiful person you’d ever set eyes on.

Closing your eyes as he leaned in to kiss you was the most natural thing in the world.

#shinee key #key oneshot #shinee oneshot #kim kibum oneshot #kibum oneshot #shinee kibum #kim kibum #kibum x reader #key x reader

[mosylufanfic]

♗: One falling asleep with their head in the other's lap. With Killervibe, pretty please?

So this has developed into the first of a trilogy around this movie because I hear “simple prompt drabble” and immediately envision an epic.

It Had to Be You

Caitlin grabbed the remote before he could reach for it. "Hey," he said.

"It's my turn to pick the movie," she said.

"I could swear you picked the movie last time. Anyway, I'm the one with a head wound." He touched his sore head dramatically, and made a very real face at the crusty feeling of dried blood in his hair. Caitlin wouldn't permit him to get the stitches wet, and a damp sponge only did so much good.

"And I'm the one who had to stitch it up," she retorted, "so we've both had rough nights." She plopped onto his couch, clutching the remote. While she'd said he wasn't showing initial signs of a concussion, she'd also insisted on staying the night at his place for safety's sake.

He flopped next to her, sinking into the cushions with a sigh. "Come on," he said. "Where's your bedside manner?"

She cut her eyes at him. "If you pick, it'll either be The Princess Bride or something with explosions."

". . . nuh-uh," he said, a hair too late.

"If you do have a concussion, bright lights and explosions aren't good for it."

"What about The Princess Bride?" he challenged.

"I'm picking," she said, turning on Netflix.

He huffed. "Oh my god, at least sign into your own account. You're going to screw up my algorithm!"

"You've completely screwed up mine," she said heartlessly. "The last time I turned it on, Netflix suggested Demon Bitches from Mars."

"A classic of the genre," he said. "Okay, but nothing set before about 1975, okay? I'm not dealing with corsets and repression tonight."

"Noted," she said, typing in a search.

He squinted at the screen and felt his head throb, so quickly un-squinted. "When Harry Met Sally? Isn't that the one with the scene in the deli?"

"She's faking, and yes. Is that all you know about it?"

He thought about that. "Actually, yeah. I don't think I've ever seen this movie."

"I'm not surprised," she said, hitting play. "It has a marked lack of aliens."

He snorted and rested his head in the corner of the couch, massaging his temple.

"Does your head hurt?" she asked under the opening credits.

"Not really," he hedged.

She raised her eyebrow. "I have painkillers."

"I'm fine," he said. "Whoa, whoa, isn't that the guy who directed The Princess Bride?"

"Rob Reiner? Oh, right, he did."

"Well, this might not be awful."

"So glad to have your approval."

A few scenes later, he said, "Isn't that Miracle Max? You didn't tell me Miracle Max was in this."

"Took you long enough," she said. "Yes, that's Billy Crystal."

Cisco cocked his head. "Are we seriously supposed to believe he's, like, twenty?"

"Only for about ten more minutes," she said. "Hush, this part is important."

"That guy's full of shit," he said a few minutes later.

"Absolutely," Caitlin said. "About what?"

He waved a hand. "The whole men and women can't be friends. By his logic, I shouldn't ever have any real friends because I'd want to bang them all."

"Which we know is not the case."

"Plus also, look at you and me. Besties. No sex involved."

She smiled at him. "Exactly."

On screen, dubiously college-aged Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan parted, only to be reunited a couple of scenes later with hair that was doing nobody any favors and an unfortunate pussy-bow blouse. Clearly the early eighties had been a hell of a time.

Cisco shifted positions and regretted not accepting the painkiller she'd offered. But they made him fuzzy and hungover, and he was already fuzzy enough from the evening they'd had.

If he could rest his head somehow, that would help. But his head hurt, and his neck hurt, and he couldn't find the right angle for the pillow without making one or the other hurt worse.

She paused the movie while Meg and Billy were on one of those moving sidewalks at the airport, going over the whole men-and-women-can't-be-friends thing again. "Are you okay?"

"Just sore," he said.

She looked over at her purse, sitting in its usual spot on his kitchen table. "Are you sure you don't want - "

"They make me all hungover."

"I know, but you'd at least be able to rest."

"I just need to find a good position."

"Here," Caitlin said. "Try this." She put the pillow on her lap and beckoned him.

He hesitated, but it was an angle between flat and straight up. He settled down, stretching his legs out on the couch, and let out a sigh.

"Good?"

"Perfect," he mumbled. His head was comforted by the pillow, his neck was finally aligned, and for the first time since a hubcap had bounced off his cranium several hours before, he could relax.

She rested her hand on his neck, then pulled it away. "Sorry, is that - "

"No," he said. "S'okay." The warmth of her hand felt nice. "Hey, if I fall asleep, am I going to wake up again?"

She put her hand down again, running her thumb over the bump at the top of his spine. The repetitive motion seemed to leach all the tension out. "Yes, you'll wake up, I promise. That's a myth."

"Good." He yawned and focused on the screen again. "Whoa doggie, is that Princess Leia?"

"Mmmhm."

"Huh, she's kind of foxy with short hair." Although apparently she was some dude's side piece. That was dumb. You didn't do Princess Leia like that.

He fell asleep while Billy Crystal and his mustachioed bro were talking about Billy's marriage breaking up and doing the wave at the same time.

He felt way better in the morning. He'd slept through the rest of the movie, and Caitlin had woken him up enough for him to stumble to bed. She'd taken the couch for herself. After med school and being the Flash's personal doctor, she could crash anywhere she wanted and sleep like the dead.

That was great for her, of course, but it was less fun for him, trying to wake her up so she could drive them both in to work. He resorted to making coffee and sticking it right under her nose while at the same time playing the most annoying song he could think of on his phone. It mostly worked.

He hated to admit it, but he kind of did want to watch the rest of the movie. With the door to his lab locked, he pulled up Netflix on his tablet and started it playing while he disassembled a misbehaving gadget.

He almost cut off his own thumb at the deli scene. Damn, he was kind of glad he hadn't been awake for that last night. Especially with his head in Caitlin's lap.

By the end, he'd abandoned his project entirely and sat focused on the screen as Harry told Sally, "When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

It was no "as you wish" but . . . it was pretty good. He had to give it that. He turned it off, frowning to himself.

"Where have you been?" Caitlin asked him when he drifted up to her lab a few minutes later. "I haven't seen or heard from you all morning."

"I watched the rest of the movie," he admitted. "When Harry Met Sally."

She smirked.

"Just to see how it ended, you know I'm a completist."

"What did you think?"

"That deli scene was something. Now I kind of want to get in touch with every woman I've ever dated and ask her - "

"No," Caitlin said firmly. "Do not do that. Leave it in the past. Did you like the rest of it, otherwise?"

"Yeah," he said. "I mean, it was good and funny and they were cute together but - "

"But?"

He cocked his head. "I mean, they had sex. And then they fought about it, and friend-broke-up, and got back together, and got married."

"Did you not know it was a rom-com? That's how they go."

"Of course I did, but doesn't that prove him right? About the whole men-and-women thing?"

"I -" She bit her lip. "Maybe. But it's just a movie. You don't have to agree with everything it says."

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”

To Be Continued!!

#Caitlin Snow #Cisco Ramon #killervibe #fanfiction #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #I love that movie so much #it's themmmmmmmmmm #the flash #crosspost #fabledshadow

[silly-nonny-fics-are-for-fandoms]

In my head

Bakukami week day 6 (Part three) : Cope/Comfort @officialbakukamiweek Summary:  ’Useless’ Said a voice, ‘Kill yourself, no one will miss you. You can do it.’ Kaminari refuses to listen, but it tears him down day by day. Read on Ao3 MAJOR WARNINGS: Depression, suicide mention, near suicide attempt, suicidal feelings, self-loathing, mental health issues, therapy.

Kaminari's smile was brighter than the sun, especially to those he considered close. Ever since becoming pro heroes, that smile had only gotten broader and more vivid. He comforted children, helped lift the spirits of other heroes, raising awareness for the side effects of quirks both negative and positive.

He helped strike fear into criminals because a space they had previously thought their own, the internet and dark web, was invaded every day by his agency. They steadily tracked all sorts of websites, and with the help of electricity tearing down their cyber busts.  

He had an alert in his transmitter in case of a hacker trying to get into one of a hundred secure networks, which would allow him to plug into his updated shooter and actively combat it with the keyboard there. The world was slowly becoming a harder place for villains to exist, thanks to his efforts with the help of his former classmates. But, with all the good he did, people were bound to talk. About him.

Because of his small stature and features, they often commented about how unfit he was to be a hero, fighting battles every day and his popularity, being in the top ten heroes alongside class A alumni, put him as a perfect target for weirdos and spiteful comments. Every day, new letters telling him to commit suicide, that he should shock himself permanently stupid for invading their internet even though it didn't harm the average user. Some, far more concerning, told him slightly inappropriate comments about how they'd like to have him in their beds, and what exactly they would do to him. When he didn't respond, they'd get more and more violent.

The worst letters, in his mind, were those telling him how much they wish he would get kidnapped and killed by villains because he was that bad at doing his job. Or that he was just a glorified battery, good for nothing other than keeping power.

Part of the responsibility of electric quirk users was to report to local hospitals during blackouts to ensure they'd have power, regardless of age. It was one of the few quirks which the user didn't have to possess a provisional hero license to use their quirk in a public space.

What made it bearable was when he'd receive a letter from someone he'd saved. There was a framed letter from a group of elementary school children he'd rescued, one whose heart he'd restarted after the rescue. He'd discovered their location by using his skills to trace the call the villain had made, and with the help of Ground Zero and Red Riot, everyone had survived the epidemic.

Except the child had been gravely wounded during the incident, and Kaminari had restarted her heart no less than three times in a ten minute period, Kirishima protecting the rest of the class, though Kaminari had used his waist cape to wrap the bloodied wound of the child he had taken care of. Bakugo restrained the villain, left in charge of making sure he didn't get away even if Kaminari had delivered the final blow.

Once the child had become stable enough, Kaminari had picked her up to continue monitoring her heart rate until the paramedics arrived.

Those moments, where he saw the smile of a child's face as he returned them to their parents, or heard their sobs of relief when he told them their child would survive, they made it all worth it.

But that didn't mean he didn't have times where he let the comments get to him, especially so when he didn't have work that day even if he was on call.

On days such as those, he'd curl up in his bed and do nothing, feeling nothing and his energy levels at such an all-time low that getting up felt like a task too big for him to accomplish.

Today was one of those days.

He scrolled through his phone, without a purpose or intention other than to drown out his thoughts.

'Useless.' It said, hissing, 'You are so useless, you could be doing something like training right now, but you are; lying here doing nothing. Lazy. Ugly.'

He turned up the volume on the video he watched, eyes glazed over in boredom. He knew he could be doing something, but he couldn't bring himself to get out of bed.

'How dare you call yourself a hero. A real hero would be doing something.'

A shudder came through him, putting his phone down and shutting it off, letting out a shaky breath. The memory of his most recent mission came to the forefront of his mind; a civilian had nearly died that day because he hadn't been fast enough despite his best efforts. That civilian was in the hospital, on death's door last he heard and it was his fault.

'A real hero would've saved him. Bakugo would've been able to save him. Midoriya could have. Any other hero could have saved him. But no, it had to be you.'

Kaminari gripped at his head, curling in on himself and facing the wall. Even if it was true, it couldn't define him.

'There's no point to you being alive. Their wounds are your fault.'

He forced himself to sit up, each muscle movement feeling like a toll on his body more than an entire day of work. Like he was dragging an extra hundred pounds in each limb. His gaze landed on the framed letter, a small smile shaking on his face. He knew it'd be short-lived, but seeing that letter always made him feel a little better, it's why he had put it in his bedroom.

'She has scars because of you. Ugly, horrible scars, because you couldn't save her before she got hurt.'

Kaminari started shaking, his body revolting against him and chilling from the nothingness he felt. He'd seen the tree-like figures on the girl's chest when he'd been asked to stay until the paramedics could get her stable, in case they needed to resuscitate her again. Those had been his fault. Extra electricity in the body caused those scars. His electricity. Forcing his attention away from the letter, it landed on the drawer of his bedside table where his medication had been placed. He should take it. He knew.

'But... What if you took all of them?' The voice said again, and Kaminari considered it. Why even bother with staying? There wasn't a point to it; he'd mess up again and make things worse.

'Should have done this back in high school,'

Kaminari didn't even realize he'd reached for the drawer until he saw that his medication wasn't there. Instead, a handwritten note.

"Denki, you've been out of it lately. Come to me to get your meds when you wake up." Short, sweet, and to the point. He knew who had written it immediately; only one other person was living with him, after all.

That pause was all he needed to start reconsidering what he had been about to do. Carefully, he put it back in the drawer with the other notes he had, from similar days when he'd been out of it. A small zap to his wrist, however, he didn't stop. The current ran through his body, buzzing and warming the cold he felt, even if it hurt.

At this point, he could barely feel the pain; he'd done this so many times. It almost came as a welcome feeling, which poured out of him from every crevice of his being. Relief, almost.

He thought about how Bakugo had reacted when he'd first found him like this, about how worried he'd been as he'd pinned him to the bed, arms apart from each other. Bakugo hadn't been so good at dealing with it back then.

He sluggishly stood up, making his way to the door as his hands drifted to his thighs, the shorts he wore giving him access to press the tips of his finger against the warm skin, running a new, stronger current through them. Once the door opened, the scent of bacon and pancakes came to him, warm and comforting.

The thought of eating made him want to throw up.

"Fucking finally," Bakugo grumbled from the kitchen, Kaminari coming up behind him slowly, "You get my note?"

Kaminari made a non-committal noise, grabbing a cup from the cabinet, "Where're my meds, Kacchan?" He asked, turning on the kettle and reaching for his tea.

"I'll get them for you once I'm done here," Bakugo didn't even look at him, his focus on the food he was cooking. It was enough for both of them, luckily, "And don't even fucking think of looking for the knives, I've locked them up."

Kaminari had almost tried before, and Bakugo hadn't taken to it well. He'd watched Kaminari like a hawk on days where he could tell Kaminari was out of it, a state he only allowed himself to go into when he didn't have anything else to do.

"Yessir," Kaminari mumbled, his left hand plastered against his thigh and the low-level shocks he delivered to himself an uncomfortable presence, but he couldn't make himself stop it even if he wanted to.

Bakugo served up what he'd been cooking, making Kaminari close his eyes until he got his medication. This was a ritual they'd done before, to ensure Kaminari didn't look for his medicine next time his negative thoughts got to him.

He felt Bakugo pull his left hand off of his thigh, putting four little pills into the palm of his hand as the kettle turned off, the temperature gauge reaching the highest point. "Food's ready, so come to cuddle with me or fuck off into your depression after you eat," Bakugo grumbled, heading over to the table with the coffee he had made.

The thought of warm cuddles helped to cut through his funk and Kaminari smiled, making his tea even if his wrists burned. With a swig of his hot drink, he took his medication and sat down at the table, his legs very happy since he didn't have to stand anymore.

Pancakes and bacon helped his thoughts, certainly, but one struck him mid-bite.

"Kacchan," Kaminari glanced at the other blonde, who grumpily looked through his phone's notifications, "Do I do enough as a hero...? Do I bother you?"

"Haah?" Bakugo scoffed, raising an eyebrow and leaning back in his seat, putting his phone down. "Is that what your fucking shitty thoughts are about?"

"Just answer the questions, please..." Kaminari looked down, his voice small and shaky.

"You do more than enough, Kami. Of course, you fucking bother me, but you're a ball of energy, and social interaction bothers me."

"Sorry. I'll try not to bother you." Tears brimmed amber eyes, hands fidgeting with the fork he held, and Bakugo growled.

"Fuck that! Keep being yourself; never change because of someone else's shitty opinion!"

"B-But you just said-"

"Do you think I'd willingly live with you if you bothered me that damn much?"

"Well, no.."

"Exactly." Bakugo took his plate and brought it over to the empty dishwasher, loading the dirty dishes into it, "If I have to fucking yell positivity and peace of mind into you, I'll damn well do it."

Kaminari couldn't help but smile and chuckle a bit at that, going back to eating his food.

"Thanks, Kacchan. You know, you've calmed down since high school,"

"What?! I'm always fucking calm, you electric headed idiot!" Bakugo flamed, his hands crackling and Kaminari's chuckle turned into a laugh as he finished eating.

"There's the Bakugo I know!"

"Fuck off and die!"

"But I was promised cuddles!" Kaminari could still hear the voice, but it was getting quieter as Bakugo's yelling droned it out. They fell into their routine, sending quips at one another and playfully insulting as they did the dishes and cleaned up from breakfast.

As soon as Bakugo deemed it clean enough, he dragged Kaminari over to their couches and asked what movie he wanted to watch. With a grin, Kaminari selected the Princess Bride, a movie Bakugo hated to admit he liked and Kaminari knew he could get away with it. When they watched videos, usually, Bakugo would choose the film or drag one of their other friends over. So, to help combat the depression, Bakugo let Kaminari chose whatever he wanted when things got to be too much.

Kaminari had already cuddled into what Kirishima had labeled his 'Sushi roll' blanket after Bakugo once forcefully rolled him up in it because Kaminari had been having a bad day and needed comfort.

Bakugo settled in next to him as the pre-menu ads for the DVD came up, snagging part of the blanket and holding Kaminari to his side, "You were in the news this morning," He said, staring blankly at the television.

"Really?" Kaminari looked up at the other curiously, head tilted cutely.

"Yeah, the dude you saved the other day has been released. Made a public statement about how thankful he was for you. And your freaking insistence on web protection helped Pinky and Tape face keep a night-school from getting attacked last night."

He'd known about the last part, even been called about it for assistance after getting off of work then, but he hadn't expected the news to pick up on it. He'd been the one to decode the message which had let them know what would happen when and where. He hadn't been able to hear about how the arrest went, so it was comforting to hear.

He nuzzled his face against Bakugo's arm, partly hiding it in the blanket, and sniffled.

"That's... Good. Good for them."

"Watch the movie or cry; you have two options here." Bakugo hit play on the movie, as the menu had come up, and Kaminari wiped away his tears.

It wasn't the best way of coping with Kaminari's emotions, nor even the best way to comfort him, but it worked, and if it didn't do as much as he expected, they had a library of romantic comedies and two tubs of ice cream in the freezer he could burn off at work tomorrow.

#Bakukamiweek2018 #Bakukami #Hurt/comfort #Fluff and angst #Kaminari Denki #Bakugo Katsuki #Depression #Suicide mention #Suicidal thoughts #Near suicide attempt #Based on real life events #Self loathing #Mental health issues #comfort #Cuddling #Pro heroes #Mention of Kirishima Eijirou #Please let me know if I need to tag anything else

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Jungleland

Here’s the long-overdue second part for Springsteen Sessions! I’m sorry for the absolutely ridiculously long wait, college and midterms have gotten the best of me as of late, but things are easing up a bit so I should be able to update more regularly for a few weeks until finals. Here it is, and please don’t hesitate to pop into my inbox and talk to me about it, favorite bits, things you’d like to see, predictions, criticism, I value it all!

Part I: She’s the One

Jungleland

Together, they take a stab at romance and disappear down Flamingo Lane

Harry didn’t ever made decisions rashly. Not all of his decisions turned out to be good ones, granted, but he thought through everything, carefully considered his options, and then ultimately just went with whatever he wanted to. So it was unusual, incredibly unusual, for him to decide to throw caution to the wind, to break his rules for anyone. But he broke them for Rosie. It had been about a month, give or take, and Rosie had changed his mind in spectacular fashion. She wasn’t a distraction, she wasn’t an inconvenience like he had feared she might be. She was, bar music, pretty much the best thing to happen to him in recent memory. So why hadn’t he told anyone about her?

Rosie had her life pretty much planned out for her since she came out of the womb. She was going to go to a top school— which she was, major in a STEM field— which she was, and then go to med school and start a family. Nowhere in that plan was ‘date a rag-tag musician who also might end up being a teacher but doesn’t really know what to do with his life.’ But, for one reason or another, Rosie found herself not really caring about what other people thought she should do with her life, for once in her life. So why wasn’t she shouting it from the rooftops how happy he made her? Lara and Antonia knew she was vaguely ‘seeing’ somebody, but they didn’t seem to have any clue just how deep her feelings ran.

It wasn’t that Harry was ashamed of Rosie, or being in a relationship with her. Nothing could be further from the truth. As naive as it was, he wanted what they had— whatever they had— to be just theirs for a little while longer, away from the whispers and opinions of anyone who wasn’t them. His friends would like her, he was sure, but he had brought back girls before who they hadn’t been too crazy about, and he was so scared of Rosie being scared that he figured, stupidly, that the best thing for them would be to pretend like ‘they’ didn’t exist in the first place. But they did, and he wanted them to be open, he wanted them to be public so bad, but he was afraid. But he knew it was only a matter of time, before people caught on and their little secret wasn’t so much of a secret any longer.

As fate would have it, that time came sooner than either expected. Thursday evenings usually had Harry holed up in his shared apartment, trying to finish up a song for a show or perfect a cover he had been working on. And he was doing that, at least, to some degree. For the most part, however, he was constantly leaning over his guitar case to pick up his phone, anxious to see if Rosie had somehow replied to him in the two minutes since he last checked it.

“Harry, who do you keep texting?” His roommate, Oliver asked. Oliver was one of Harry’s best friends; they had met freshman year during a music seminar he was taking to fulfill a GE, and had been close ever since. They sometimes performed together, less often now that the two of them were busy with senior projects and Oliver had picked up a part-time internship with a local engineering firm.

“Uh, just a friend,” Harry said vaguely.

“Uh huh,” Oliver asked, giving a mischievous smile as he plucked Harry’s phone from where it lay on the ground, looking at his most recent texts. “And do you tell all of your ‘friends’ to ‘be ready at 5, I’m taking you to Giovanni’s before the set?’”

Harry’s face turned a brilliant shade of scarlet and he tried, to not avail, to wrestle his phone out of his friend’s hands. It took him a minute, but it eventually returned to his pocket, with Harry turning to sit on their dingy, half-broken couch, head in his hands. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out,” he said, exasperation lacing his tone.

Sensing something wasn’t quite right, Oliver took a seat on the couch next to him, setting one hand gently on his shoulder. “Hey, why not? I may never have met—” he paused, trying to remember the name at the top of the messaging screen, “—Rosie, but if she makes you happy, and I’m sure she does, there’s nothing else that I or anyone else could want for you.”

Harry shifted slightly. “And that’s the thing. I feel like I should know that, you and the guys aren’t assholes and I know you wouldn’t do anything deliberate to screw this up. You’re only ever thinking of what, and who’s best for me.  I’m just scared, scared that once we tell people about our relationship and our perfect little bubble is popped that whatever we have going on now, as wonderful as it is, will just vanish.”

“I mean, I get that,” Oliver responded. “But you’re also being stupid.” Harry glared slightly. “If she’s as great as you make her sound, and I’m sure she is, then there’s really nothing anyone apart from you two can say that would damage your relationship. It’s just going to add to the tension and conflict if you keep holding her back from parts of your life. Compartmentalizing can be useful, but it’s meant for school and work, not for relationships.”

“You’re probably right.”

Oliver laughed. “When am I not?”

Kids flash guitars just like switchblades/Hustling for the record machine/The hungry and the hunted explode into rock n’ roll bands

A few weeks later, Rosie was sat with Oliver and a handful of Harry’s other friends, waiting for him to come up onstage at their college’s twice-yearly Coffeehouse Showcase. THe name was a bit of a misnomer— it was held in the student union, not the on-campus coffee shop, but the group was excited nonetheless. Harry knew about the event, obviously, but he wasn’t really planning on auditioning, just like he hadn’t for the previous three years. He tried to convince himself it wasn’t out of fear of rejection, but the truth is that there was really nothing else that it could have been. He wanted more than anything to get his music out there, his music was his baby and he had never been so proud of anything in his life. And though he wasn’t the arrogant type, not by a long shot, he knew that he had talent. Talent enough that Rosie had brought up the showcase time and time again until he at last agreed to audition, for no reason if not simply to get her to stop bringing it up. So it was much to his surprise when he got the email announcing that he had actually been one of ten acts selected.

Each act only had a ten minute slot, give or take, so Harry had been pulling his hair over the past two weeks trying to figure out what his set should look like. All originals, or a cover? Three shorter songs, to give a wider variety? Two longer ones, to give a better glimpse to his songwriting? Old ones? New ones? It had been causing him more than a fair amount of stress, until Rosie came across him scribbling once again on a spare piece of notebook paper, crossing out and re-writing dozens of song names.

“Just sing the ones that mean the most to you, H,” she said, rubbing his shoulders gently. “If you want people to get to know you, you as a songwriter and musician, they’re going to want to hear you at your most authentic and vulnerable.”

And as utterly terrified as that made him, Harry knew she was right. There was no way he’d be able to progress as a musician with any semblance of authenticity if he never went out of his comfort zone. So there he was, gripping the neck of his guitar like it was a lifeline, taking the few steps from the makeshift greenroom to the stage. He had been asked to close the show— why, he didn’t know. Rosie said it was because the organizing committee obviously “saw something in him,” and as much as he wanted to believe her, there was always an underlying sense of doubt that it happened from nothing more than a lucky draw.

As he took a moment to settle himself, Harry’s eyes scanned the crowd for Rosie. She told him she’d be sitting with his friends, most of whom she’d met at a party he had hosted a few weeks prior. Sure enough, he caught her eyes, sat next to Oliver, Devon, Michael, and a few others who had come along. She gave him a warm smile, and he perked up just enough that enough of his nerves dissipated and he was able to begin.

Rosie could never get enough of Harry when he was performing. It wasn’t even because they were dating, it was because he so clearly had a love for music, a love for the stage, and such an incredibly natural stage presence that your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to him when he was singing. He was in his element, he was doing what he loved, and she felt incredibly honored to be able to share that with him. He hadn’t shared with her his setlist, telling her with a glint in his eye that he “wanted everything to be a surprise.” She respected that, but it also led to a fair bit of speculation on her heart, with every guess of hers being met by Harry saying that he could “neither confirm nor deny” any of her theories.

Beneath the city, two hearts beat/Soul engines running through a night so tender

So, needless to say, when she didn’t even recognize the first song, she was taken more than a little aback. But, as with most of the pieces he’d shared with her, the more she listened, the more she fell in love. Somehow, armed with only an acoustic guitar and an enraptured audience of caffeine-fueled college students, managed to weave together a heartbreakingly beautiful story of love and loss, and how caring too much about what other people think, about what other people are going to say, can kill your happiness, or confidence, or a relationship, before it even has a chance. And Rosie wasn’t vain, far from it, but there was something in the lyrics, the lilt and rhythm of how he sang, that made her wonder it if was about her. If it was about them.

Her daydreams were interrupted by a smattering of applause as the first song closed. Harry dipped his head in thanks, grabbing the capo from the neck of his guitar and placing it on the seat behind him. “That one was Hold On, just finished it a few days ago. ‘S one’s more upbeat, I promise,” he chuckled, the audience laughing alongside him. “Called Feel It, hope you enjoy it.”

And enjoy it she did. It was one of her favorites, and as Rosie looked around the room, she saw more than a fair few people tapping their feet to the upbeat song. Harry had an exhilarating smile on his face as he finished, giving a little bow and hustling offstage. Not wasting any time, Rosie stood up from her chair, weaving her way between the crowd to get to the backstage area, slipping behind a hastily-pulled-up curtain to see Harry kneeling on the ground, closing the last buckle on his guitar case. “Hey, superstar,” She said, a slight smile on her face.

Harry swiped a hand across his forehead, pushing back the hairs that had fallen during his performance. Wiping the sweat from his brow on his jeans, he looked at her. “You liked it then? I wasn’t sure how it would go, playing the new song was a risk and I know it’s a bit of a slow one so I wasn’t sure how the reaction would go, but—”

“Hey, calm down,” Rosie said, crouching down next to Harry and rubbing one hand over his shoulder. “They loved it, I’m sure. Did you see the reaction you got from the crowd? They didn’t cheer for anyone as loudly as they did for you. You’re a wonderful musician, Harry. I know it’s hard for you to see that sometimes, but I really wish you’d just trust your talent. It’s there.”

Harry leaned into her touch. “That’s what everyone keeps telling me,” he said wryly. “It’s just hard to believe when I keep trying so hard and nothing ever seems to come out of it. It’s not the effort or the talent that I’m lacking, it’s the fact that damn near no one seems to take notice. I’m not trying to talk down to myself,” Harry quickly added, seeing Rosie’s raised eyebrow, “it’s just the truth. And it sucks, but I feel like it almost makes me want to work that much harder, push a little extra just so I know that I’ve done everything I possibly could to get my name out there, get my music out there, really make something of myself.”

“I know, babe,” Rosie said, kissing his forehead. “And I want that for you too, more than anything I want people to be able to recognize how hard you’ve worked, how much you want this. But, Harry,” she paused for a moment, collecting her words, “you’ve already made something of yourself. You have people who you love and who love you. And even if tomorrow all of the music went away, and you could never play music again, you’d be okay. It would be devastating, but the measure of who you are and how impactful you are isn’t measured in how many people come to your shows or in how many records you might sell one day, it’s in how many lives you touch. Not my quote, I’m paraphrasing something I read on Google,” she added, making him smile. “But the sentiment stands. You’re deserving of all the success in the world, H, but it’s not the most important thing. Your sister loves you, your mom and dad love you. Oliver, Devon, Michael, and all of your friends love you.”

“What about you?” Harry asked, a corner of his mouth twitching, but he was only half-joking.

“We’re getting there.”

#Harry Styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff #harry styles smu #one direction #one direction imagine #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #one direction writing #one direction fluff #one direction smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing

[gypsy-horror]

Nursing Not Home

                                  Nursing(Not)Home

                            Too many double shifts…..

Today started out like any other day. The alarm buzzed next to me as I hit snooze religiously in ten minute intervals. I dragged myself out of bed and put on the black, fake silk, kimono robe I had bought for myself in Chinatown. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the patterned geishas on the garment; envying their warm, tireless faces. This was my fourth double shift this week. The nursing home where I was employed had recently undergone a pay freeze and many of the nurses and other employees had sought out new jobs. Being short staffed was typical; but lately, it was worse than ever.

I sighed loudly as I stood up and walked to the bathroom. Glimpsing myself in the mirror, I stopped and drowsily gazed at my cadaverous expression. My long, brown hair was knotted up in a bun that sat loose on top of my head. A thick layer of plaque was caked over my coffee stained yellow teeth. The copious amount of coffee I had consumed to maintain function between my three to four hour sleep habit and my long night shifts, had neglected my oral hygiene. The freckles along my nose were prominent on my overly pale skin and resembled age spots under the luminescent light of my bathroom. They greeted the bags under my eyes as they sunk down into the deep crevices formed in dark shades of grey and blue. I frowned at the image of the girl that greeted me in the mirror. I shrugged her off, and halfheartedly dragged my lifeless body into the shower.

As I got out, the steam filled the room and covered the mirror in a thick dew. Happily avoiding the girl in the mirror, I put my black scrubs on, wrapped my dark purple stethoscope around my neck, slipped on my shoes, and headed for the door. At this point I was going to be at least fifteen minutes late; but with the shortage in staff, my boss was more than lenient on those of us picking up the slack.

When I arrived, I indulged myself in the break room with a crappy cup of cheap Folgers coffee the nursing home supplied for the staff. Next to the coffee pot was a community fridge, which housed the hazelnut creamer I used to mask the bitter taste of the extra dark coffee. As I pulled the creamer from the fridge, I could feel my newly bought creamer was... not so newly bought anymore. Apparently community fridge meant more than I thought. Glaring at my name clearly printed in sharpie on the bottle, and cap; I dripped the remains of the once full bottle into the muck in my cup. The drops weren't even enough to cloud the black coloring of my typically milky drink. Grudgingly, I threw the empty bottle into the trash and reached back in the fridge for any creamer I could find. After all, they did use all of mine...I was just doing what's fair.

"Hmmm...Jessica." I read off the bottle aloud. Your vanilla creamer will have to do. As I began to pour the remnants of Jessica’s creamer into the cup, It slimed out slowly and wretched my nostrils. I tipped it back quickly so that the mucus textured sludge didn’t have a chance to plummet into what was already a shit cup of coffee. I decided to settle for the bitter blackness, scared to venture further into the fridges depths.

The building was separated into three sections, station one, station two, and station three. Each section had around twenty-three patients, give or take any recent deaths or new admissions. There were two long hallways labeled west hall and east hall. The doors down each hall lined next to one another, contained two beds each, with zero to two residents a room. With the shortage in staff the admissions had slowed and more than the usual rooms sat empty.

I grabbed the clipboard from the desk at station one and read my assignment.

"Mara: 203A-216B, station 3.”

I unenthusiastically wrote the section on my paper and sauntered through the building to the back. Station three had the hardest patients to care for; combative and non-compliant about taking medications. This was going to be a long night.

When I got to station three I was greeted by an unpleasant sight. Her name was Haley, and she was the worst nurse on staff. She never passed all the medications out, leaving them for the shift following; She never did her charting, and my neglected patients were already on their lights like a Christmas tree glowing up the hall. The repetitive sounds of beeping filled my ears, alarming and irritating me further. Haley hurriedly gave me a half ass report and I rushed to salvage my night. Going room to room, I settled my patients minds, got them some fresh water, their medications, and tucked them in for the night. About two painstaking hours later I walked to the last of my rooms; Room 216. As I approached the room, the smell of roadkill hit my nostrils. It was worse than any smell I had ever experienced and I had been doing this job for five years. It instantly rocked my typically strong stomach. I took a step back. Had one of my patients died and Haley hadn't noticed the whole shift? I wouldn't have been surprised. I grabbed a face mask from my cart and made my way back down to the vile smelling room. There was only one lady who lived in room 216, and she was a quiet, tenderhearted eighty-seven year old with Alzheimer's. She frequently had delusions and could get aggressive when agitated, but being a whopping one hundred and fifteen pounds... she couldn't do much. I half expected to find my poor patient, Florence, dead by the smell that was coming from that room; but to my surprise I was greeted by two women. Apparently, Haley didn't just forget to hand out her meds; she also failed to mention 216 had a new admit in bed B.

"Oh!" I said puzzlingly. "I'm so sorry; had I known we had a new patient I would have came down here first to introduce myself. My name is Mara and I will be your nurse until morning, is there anything I can do for you this evening?" I said, stumbling on my words, trying not to sound flustered over my newly discovered patient. She smiled a crooked smile at me and continued sipping her hot tea.

“She must be hard of hearing,” I thought to myself, so I got a little closer and repeated what I had said a lot louder and asked her name. Still, no answer. I assumed, much like her roommate, she wasn't quite all there and decided I would read her chart when I was finished.

“Funny though,” I thought realizing only after the fact; when I walked up to her, I saw her tea cup was empty. She was sipping an empty tea cup. How strange. Not only that, but she was a strange looking woman.

Her skin was pale with a hue of blue, like someone with poor blood circulation. The blankness in her pitch black eyes was paralyzingly eerie. Her hair was short, patchy, and a dark shade of grey. She had obvious signs of scalp digging from the numerous clusters of claw shaped scabs lining her hair. Her lips were dry and flaking, and her toothless smile, smug; like she knew something you didn't. Chills ran up my spine. It was nearly silent in the room besides the obvious death rattling coming from my new patient’s lungs. She gurgled and crackled with each and every breath: silence, breath, gurgle, crackle, repeat. The sound was hypnotic and unearthly. Of course I had heard a similar sound before, but it was typically only a sound that a dying patient made before their passing. This lady was upright and clearly not dying. Something about this woman rubbed me the wrong way. I wanted to get out of the room as soon as possible. As she rolled her wheelchair backwards towards her bed, I turned to check on Florence.

I was content to find she was breathing and comfortably sleeping. Her wrinkles were softened as she relaxed her face and her long white hair cascaded down her left shoulder. She was a stunning woman of her age, and in her youth she was even more so. The photo next to her bed showed a more youthful Florence Maddex, in her white wedding dress, a beaming smile on her face, and her late husband next to her staring delightedly at her beauty. She had to have been in her thirties when the photo was taken. If Florence is fine,  where was that smell coming from? I searched the room and found nothing, so I finished up, refilled my coffee, and came back to my station.

I got out 216B’s chart and sat down to read up on my new patient. Rosemary Pine, was a ninety-eight year old woman with unidentified psychological issues, and was nearly deaf. That's why she couldn't hear me.  As I read on I also discovered she had no living family, and only one emergency contact. The contact had no name, only a number. I stared frustratingly at the lack of effort taken upon the staff to get accurate and adequate information on our new patient. How am I supposed to care for someone I have such little information on? Haley truly was the worst nurse ever.

After thoroughly searching Rosemary's file for information, I conceded and decided to focus my attention on the stack of paperwork I had waiting for me on the far end of the desk: Tylenol 2:00am, fall risk, 420cc Output. Repetitive charting on each and every one of my patients. This was going to be a long night.

I had made it halfway through my charting when my stomach began to ache as the stench hit my nose again

"Oh, god!" I said aloud. "What IS that?!" I followed the scent down the hall to room 216. I had to find out where the smell was coming from.

It was dark as I entered the room, and the smell was burning my lips and nostrils. I made my way to bed B and reached blindly for the string light. I made my way with my hand through the thick darkness and patted it against the wall searching. I nudged my hand against something where the light string should have been, but it was warm and slimy. I grabbed onto it and pulled down hard. Light beamed down and I jerked back. There was fresh blood dripping down the string and down my hands, and the bed was covered as well. I froze.

I heard heavy breathing and rattling from behind me. I slowly turned my head towards the bathroom where the horrid sound came from. Wheeling in her chair was Rosemary, not a drop of blood on her. I made my way towards her, coercing her away from the blood soaked bed, but when I turned back around, her bed was now immaculate. Not a drop or stain in sight! Her sheets were pure white and her vintage, light pink comforter sat perfectly folded at the end of the bed. The light switch was also back to normal. Was I dreaming? Had I worked so much I was starting to have delusions of my own? I shook my head furiously and pushed Rosemary's wheelchair back towards her bed. She smiled as I helped her up and laid her down. I wondered if she could read lips. I looked at her directly and mouthed "Can I take a look at your skin?"

She nodded. My hands still shaking, I grabbed a pair of medium gloves from the wall. I pulled her pajama sleeves up and checked her arms, nothing. I checked her back, her stomach, still nothing. Finally I made it down to her feet and legs. As I pulled her sock off the smell became even stronger. Her feet were bandaged all the way up to her knees. I pulled her pant sleeves up and began unwrapping the bandages. As I unwrapped, I could now see where the vile stench was coming from. Her legs and feet were covered in sores and necrotic tissue. There were parts of her legs where the flesh hung blackened off the bone. Her knees were blistered and bloodied, and her toes were nearly all missing. They appeared to have rotted off her feet entirely.

As I examined her further, I saw something beneath the remaining skin was forcing its way upwards and moving! It wriggled and pressed against her loose skin tightly; something was about to bust through. I watched stunned and held my breath as a tiny head poked its way through one of the breaks in her skin. Maggots were festering and burrowing into the remainder of this woman’s legs. I began to gag and backed away towards the sink. The poor woman! She must be in terrible pain! I quickly wrapped her rotting legs back up and tucked her tightly in with her blankets. How have they not done anything about this? She should be in the hospital!

I made my way back to my desk and quickly made it through my charting so I could focus my attention on writing a long, well thought out note for Miss Rosemary's chart.

"Patient was found to have severe necrotic tissue damage from mid knee down on both Right and Left legs, with extreme Myiasis. Concern that adequate medication and treatment is not being performed for recovery; etc."

The only thing this poor woman was being prescribed was Tylenol extra strength. I felt like it had to be some mistake she ended up in our care and hoped that my extensive notes on our new patient would be read thoroughly and handled accordingly. Something was seriously wrong with this whole situation.

Now nearing the end of my shift, I tried putting Rosemary to the back of my mind as I began nodding off on the desk. As my eyes fluttered, and then fully began to shut, a wild scream woke me from my haze. I jumped out of my chair and sprinted towards the hall. Again, a horrific scream pierced my ears and I chased after it. Room 216.... I ran in and quickly, relying on the hall light for sight. It was Florence. Her blue eyes beaming towards the ceiling and her body tensed tightly with pain. I ran to her side.

"Florence! What's wrong, what's going on?!?" She screamed again, and said nothing. I checked her pulse and listened to her chest with my stethoscope. I looked her over. Nothing appeared to be wrong with her physically, but she was frightened, no... she was more than frightened, this was sheer horror on her face. I held her hand and glanced over at Rosemary. She was peaceful and sound asleep. Even sound asleep, a sense of pride painted guiltily over her smug face. The rattling in her chest with every breath filled the empty silence and muffled the panicked exhales coming from Florence. As I looked at her, tears welled in her eyes. She stayed silent. I decided since nothing was physically wrong with her, that maybe she had a bad dream, or a delusion that caused her to become so afraid. Whatever it was, it didn't feel right. Tentatively, I began searching the room. I needed to find out more about this Rosemary woman.

I slid my hand slowly across the white lace covering her oak wood table; on it she had a pair of thick, brown rimmed reading glasses and an antique porcelain tea set with painted roses and gold trim. I picked up one of the empty tea cups and stared inside. It looked ancient! The bottom of the cup was covered in tiny scratches running every which direction and the sides of the cup were even worse. Maybe I was reading into things a little too much, but the scratches almost resembled someone or something trying to claw its way out. I could feel my heart begin to pound in my chest as I stared down at the tiny scratches in the cup.

I set it down slowly and opened the lid to the teapot. As I opened it, a single large cockroach scurried out from inside and ran out onto the table. I jumped back. The insect stared at me for a long while and I stared back. It’s beady eyes pierced into me like daggers. It’s hard brown exterior shone from the dim light in the hall.  When I moved to the left, the cockroach in return moved with me. I couldn’t blink, my eyes locked on the creature that sat before me. It was watching me. I stood still and after, what felt like an eternity, the roach scurried down the leg of the table and onto the floor. I wanted to run over and squish it, but something stopped me. I watched as the roach began running up the long pink bedding and onto Rosemary's chest. I wasn’t sure I could believe my eyes; was I that sleep deprived?  I didn’t want to...I really didn’t want to...but I  watched as the cockroach from inside the pot made its way to Rosemary's lips, pushing flaked pieces of skin with its feet as it buried itself inside. I could see her neck pulse and crawl as it made its way down the back of her throat. I began shrieking but muffled my screams with my hands as I slowly backed out of the room. Suddenly Rosemary’s eyes shot open wide, she slowly turned her head towards me and smiled evilly.

I turned and was going to run but slammed straight into the morning shift nurse.

"OUCH! Damn Mara... are you okay? You don't look so good…” the morning shift nurse said, still in pain but with concern in her voice.

"Yeah…” I responded, “I'm just tired... I've worked fifty-two hours this week already, and it's only Thursday." I didn't want to tell her what happened and that I was creeped out by our new patient, so I left it at that. It is not like she would believe me anyway.

I hurried up my charting and made sure to put a few vague, but haunting notes on my patients in room 216, and made my way out the door as fast as I could. When I arrived at home I stripped my clothes off and fell into my bed. I was not taking the effort to shower after the night I had. As my head hit the pillow I almost instantly fell asleep. My last thought was of Rosemary...and her strange tea set. This next shift was going to come all too quickly.

That night when I woke, my first thought was of her as well. I hoped that I wouldn't end up with that section tonight, but given that it was the hardest section, and no one liked to work it, I typically got stuck there. I made my way slowly through my normal routine. I wanted to call in sick, but it was way past the 2 hour courtesy notice required for call offs. I would have to suck it up.

My drive to work seemed shorter than usual. Images of blood stained walls, cockroaches,  and creepy old ladies plagued my mind. I couldn't help feeling that somehow she was... watching me. I pulled into the parking lot as the sun began to fade on the horizon. In the corner of the window by the entrance was Rosemary. I blinked tiredly and looked again with widened eyes. She was holding something... I couldn't quite make out what it was. As I got out of my car and made my way to the door, she was gone. “Odd,” I thought anxiously to myself, “She is fast for her age.”

I shook it off and made my way inside and began my usual routine of getting coffee, and checking and receiving report for my assignment. When I got to station three, I received a startling report on 216A. Florence had lost five pounds overnight and had a small sore on her right leg that hadn't been there before.  

"Strange..." I said aloud.

"Why is that strange?" The other nurse, Erin, asked. I stared blankly down the hall for awhile before I realized she was talking to me.

"Oh, nothing. It's just... have you noticed anything weird going on in that room lately?" She gave me a funny look.

"Mara, how many hours have you worked this week? Maybe you should take a day or two off, you look like you need it." I frowned as she walked away.

I made the usual rounds on my patients to quiet them all down and give them their medications. As I made my way closer and closer to 216 my hands began sweating and my stomach churned. I didn't want to go in that room, I didn't want to see her face. I took my time, trying to prolong the inevitable. When I finally ran out of excuses to stay in 215, I made my way slowly into room 216. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary when I walked in. Rosemary was at her table sipping from her empty teacup, and Florence was in the bed next to her fast asleep. The window was open slightly, and the breeze from outside lightly swayed the tan curtains. The lights were dimmed and it was quiet as death.The rattling sound in Rosemary’s chest was gone... not a sound could be heard in the room until she pursed her lips and slurped on her tea.

I decided to start with Rosemary so I could get her out of the way. When I made my way over to her, I could see her cup was again empty. I looked at her and her black eyes glared into mine. Something about her was different tonight. The wrinkles around her eyes had softened, and her dark, grey, coarse hair was lightened and shined in the light. The bags under her droopy eyes had vanished and the scabs on her scalp seemed to have healed overnight. She suddenly seemed ten years younger. Chills ran up my spine as she continued glaring into my soul. I mouthed to her that I was going to help her into bed to look at her legs. As I unwrapped the bandages, the smell hit my stomach just as usual, but I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Her legs were healing at a rapid rate. It was physically impossible for them to have healed that much in one day. Yesterday they looked as if they were rotting away. The maggots had died and shriveled laying crunched against her bandages. I shook the dead maggot carcasses into the trash and wrapped her legs back up gagging as Rosemary stared at me amusingly. I tucked her in and made my way over to Florence.

My hands flew up to cover my mouth as I gasped at the sight of her. Her long white hair was dull and dying. Her soft wrinkles were engraved into her face like a stone carvings. Her mouth gaped open and a stench as deadly as Rosemary's legs escaped with each breath. If you listened closely, you could hear a very faint rattle beginning to invade her chest. In report I was told she lost five pounds, but now by the looks of her, it was clearly at least ten. I opened the blankets to find her leg bandaged tightly. Under the bandage was at least seven lesions with already dying flesh surrounding them. I turned the light up from a dim and saw, to my horror, the sores didn't stop there. Her arms, chest, and left leg were also covered with gruesome sores. While I was looking over Florence, I could see something small crawling around tangled in her white sheets. I choked back fear and reached for the blanket shaking as I flipped the contents over, a DAMN cockroach glided out from the blankets for me. I shook my hands frantically to fling it away from landing on me. It fell to the ground with an unexpected thud.

"What did you do to her you evil bitch!" I screamed at Rosemary, knowing she couldn't hear me. But as I said it she laughed loudly and it echoed in the room. She was laughing AT me!

"Leave her alone! You understand? Just leave her alone!" She cackled louder and I ran out of the room.

I shook as I fell back into my chair. I could hardly breathe. I went to pick up my pen to write some notes on room 216, but it fell out of my hand as I trembled. I chugged what was left of my coffee and pushed the other twenty binders to the floor forcefully and focused my attention on Rosemary's chart. I hastily flipped through the pages and read every detail to find as much information on this woman as I could. There was literally no information on her that could help me. I sat defeated until I remembered her emergency contact number. It had no name, but I was sure I could at least find something out if I called.

I picked up the phone and dialed the emergency contact number. As it began ringing, another ring answered its call. The ring was coming from down the hall. I walked with the phone, as long as the cord would allow, to hear where the ringing was coming from. Room 216. My face went pale as I heard someone pick up on the other end. Heavy breathing was bellowing in my ear. My heart stopped and I stood perfectly still.

For awhile we said nothing. I gathered some courage and began asking questions.       

"Um... hello. My names Mara,” I said, ignorantly hoping the phone ringing down the hall was just a coincidence.   

“This number was listed as an emergency contact for Miss Rosemary Pine. I had a few questions I wanted to ask so I can fill out more of her chart. May I ask who this is? No one took a name for whom the emergency contact was." More shallow breathing was heard on the other line before a crackling voice began speaking to me.

"She tastes good with cream and sugar." Howling laughter could be heard on the line and down the hall. I quickly ran back to my desk and hung up the phone. It's Rosemary! But how?!? There are no phones in any of the patient rooms! I ran up the hall to station two in hopes the other nurses would understand. As I came stumbling up the hall, the other nurse on duty Jason looked oddly at me as I tried to catch my breath. I was sweating profusely.

"Jason!” I said breathlessly, “I think the new patient is killing my other patient!" I screamed psychotically. My eyes darted around the area looking for her.

“Jason she’s watching I know she’s watching!”

He sat silent.

"Uh, Mara.... are you sure?” He said, ignoring my clearly crazy comment about Rosemary watching us, “I mean these people are pretty old, and you seem, well... you just don’t seem yourself lately. You haven't gotten much rest and I think it might be getting to you. Go back to your station, finish up your work, and go home early. Take a day off. This place is starting to get to you." He said as he backed his chair away from me, clearly frightened by my behavior.

"No!" I said. "I am serious! Florence is in bad shape and I think this new lady has something to do with it. I just tried calling her emergency contact and it was her on the other line!" This is all I could tell him without further warranting a one way ticket to the loony bin.

"Mara, seriously, stop it. Who cares if she made herself her emergency contact. She's old. Give it a rest already."I walked sluggishly back to my station, feeling defeated that no one believed me. When I sat down, the phone began to ring. We never got phone calls on the night shift. I let it ring, and ring, and ring, until finally, I fearfully reached my hand to the receiver and grabbed the phone. I picked it up and gradually rested it against my ear. The heavy breathing began again and I sat frozen.

"Poor Mara, no one will believe her. The mean old lady in 216 is killing her roommate. What are you going to do, NURSE? How are you going to save her?" She laughed into my ear sending rage and fear into my heart. I opened my mouth to respond but froze speechless. She hung up and the dial tone invaded my ears. How could she hear my conversation with Jason? She was deaf! That's impossible! I went to set the phone down and as I did, the phone shook wildly in my hand. I turned the phone over and my bloodshot eyes watched as hundreds of cockroaches came pouring out of the tiny holes of the phone. I threw it down to the ground as they piled up, crawling around my feet; shaking the remainder of them off of my hand I literally began losing my mind. I thrashed and screamed in my seat. I rocked back and forth tucking my knees in for comfort. I pulled my hair and wrenched my head up screaming louder. I begged for it all to end. A piercing shriek from down the hall stopped my rocking trance. When I  looked down again, the bugs had vanished. I couldn’t move, I only stared down at the once infested carpet, trying to comprehend what was happening. Another shriek woke me from a lifeless haze. I ran down the hall to the room and began trying to comfort Florence as she hollered in pain.

"Why are you doing this!?" I screamed at Rosemary. No response. "I know you can hear me!!! What are you doing to her?" Spit foaming at the sides of my mouth, again no response. I brushed the hair out of Florence’s eyes and ran to get her some pain medication to ease whatever pain was being inflicted on her. She hollered as I stuck the pain pill in her mouth and gave her sips to swallow. It took about 5 minutes for her to finally quiet down and fall back asleep. I was thankful, but more worried about her than ever. Rosemary was next to her now fast asleep. My thoughts romanticized smothering her with her pillow. I didn't want to lose my license... but I also didn't want her killing my patient; This is how I rationalized my thirst for smothering her. We were supposed to protect our patients from all harm.

I stood over Rosemary’s bed contemplating her untimely demise and wondering how I could make it look like she died naturally. She was old. No one would ever know the difference between her dying in her sleep, being smothered, or overdosing on medication. But inevitably, I made my way to my desk, brushing my unhinged thoughts aside and burying those thoughts into the charting I hadn’t even started.

I sat down and book by book, halfheartedly charted on each of my patients. Staring blankly off at my medicine cart from time to time with a mind that was occupied with thoughts of killing Rosemary with Morphine. When I got to 216's chart I began an hour long three page progress report on both bed A and B. In as much detail as possible, I explained the impossible recovery of Ms. Pine, and the quickly declining health of Ms. Maddex. I hoped maybe if people read the notes that they could put a connection together themselves. I went to the break room when I was finished and refilled my coffee. I was exhausted from the nights venture and needed desperately to get the hell out of this place. The rest of the morning I looked at ads in the paper for open nursing positions in the area until the next shift nurse came in. I didn't even give report. I handed over the med keys and walked as fast as I could out of the building.

When I got home I did everything I could to fall asleep, but nothing was working. I couldn't get what had happened out of my mind I just wanted it to all go away. I took a few Benedryl from my medicine cabinet hoping the drowsy side effect would put me to sleep. As I laid down the room began spinning and all I could hear was her voice echoing "She tastes good with cream and sugar." As I lay there with my eyes open, a lone cockroach perched up in the corner of my room and I could only watch, paralyzed, as it seemed to watch me.

After hours of that sentence playing over in my head and staring at the spy in the corner of my room, I slowly began to doze off, but even that didn't stop the voices.

"She tastes good with cream and sugar, and I'm going to drink every last drop of her" Rosemary's words filled my dreams.

"I'm going to suck her bones dry, and there is nothing you can do about it; poor tired, Mara." She cackled. "She tastes so good, with cream and sugar!" I woke violently out of my deep sleep and hurriedly got dressed. My attire was less than work appropriate, but sweatpants and an old college t-shirt would have to do. I knew what was going on now, and I had to go save Florence!

The only thing fueling my tired body was adrenaline and fear. I fumbled with the keys for only a moment, then jumped into my car and drove as fast as I could back to work. There were many things running through my head the twenty-five minute drive felt like an eternity.

When I arrived, I quickly made my way into the building and ran down the hallway to room 216. When I got there, three men with a gurney were carrying a small black body bag out of the room. The hall wreaked of death and a delicate pale blue, sore covered hand fell out of the unzipped body bag. One of the men apologized, grabbed the hand, and pushed it back into the bag. My heart sunk into my stomach.

"What happened!?!? I yelled after the men. They looked me up and down like I was delusional. I pushed them out of the way and opened the bag. There was Florence, the beauty drained from her sore covered skin. Old blood traced her jaw line into her neck. Her soft white hair was grayed, and it had patches where it had fallen out. Her skin, was pale blue, and her body withered like a dying flower. She looked like she had aged forty years since I saw her. I got one good look before one of the men pushed me aside and quickly zipped up the body bag.

"Have you lost your damn mind? Let's get out of here before she gets any crazier." For an instant time stood still and I forgot what my purpose was in being here, that was, until I heard a slurping noise coming from room 216... That bitch was sipping that empty tea cup again, and I knew she had something to do with this. I made my way into the room and sitting in her brown oak chair was Rosemary... sipping that same god damn cup of tea and grinning. But this time, she had to look another ten years younger. Her hair cascaded down her side, grey, with auburn streaks. Her wrinkles had softened even more and her once pale skin had a soft honey glow. I furiously walked up to her and screamed in her face "What have you done to her!?!?!!"

I looked down and noticed something ...different about her usually empty tea cup. Inside her cup, was a pale white creamy colored liquid, that glowed a slight shade of yellow. I bent down to look closer and as I did, Rosemary grabbed the back of my neck and roughly pushed my face so close to the cup my nose nearly touched the fluorescent liquid. I pushed back a bit and that's when I saw it. Tiny shadows shaped like bodies floating through the creamy liquid like koi in a pond. They were airy and light, but as I looked closer, and focused my attention, I could make out the torture on their dead faces. As I glanced at each face, there, floating among the bodies, was Florence.

"She tasted so good with cream and sugar." I stepped back and grabbed for the tea cup.

"I...I...I..." I stuttered.  No words would escape my trembling lips. I grabbed for her cup and chucked it at the wall, shattering the glass into little pieces. Nothing but the glass hit the floor. I looked down at the porcelain grave. No liquid, no bodies, no Florence. I turned around to face Rosemary again, but she was gone. Not a trace of her left in the room: Her bed, once covered in her soft pink bedding, was gone; her table gone, tea set gone, all of Rosemary, gone.

I sat down against the wall next to the only remaining evidence she ever existed, and smashed my hand into the broken glass beside me.

"This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real" I said repetitively to comfort myself, with not much relief. I knew it was real, it was all so very real. I picked up my glass embedded hand and watched as the drops of blood ran out the cuts and stained the carpet. I scratched my bloodied hand through the glass again, wanting to feel anything but the numbness I was experiencing at that moment. My boss poked her head through the door.

"What is all this noise? What is going on, Mara? Why are you even here and what did you do to your hand." I sat still against the wall and ignored her. "Mara, I'm going to need you to come to my office." Again I sat motionless against the wall. She stood staring at me for awhile, so I finally gathered a few words for her.

"She killed Florence" was all I could manage.

"Who killed Florence?! I'm going to need to get a better report than that on this; you need to tell me what happened!" I stood up slowly and walked to station three to grab Florence and Rosemary's charts. We made our way to the corner of the building to her office. Her office was quiet and cold. Unlike the rest of the building, it was clean kept and didn't seem to belong in a nursing home. I slammed the charts on her desk and before she could get a word out, I began my own interrogation.

"Why has nobody read my notes? Why has nobody done anything about 216B?! Why did Florence have to suffer and no one paid any attention but me? Why did you keep Rosemary here when everything I charted proved we needed to get her out of here! She died because of you! No one took anything I said seriously and now look what has happened!" I nearly screamed every word of it at her. I began breathing aggressively at her. She only looked at me puzzlingly and worried.

"Mara.... there is no 216B... who is Rosemary?" She said calmly, as if she was trying to preserve what little sanity I had left. I was seconds from losing it.

"You know! Rosemary! She's the woman who moved in with Florence a couple of days ago before all of this started happening!" I grabbed 216B's chart and furiously flipped the cover open. It was blank. I flipped to the next page, blank. The next, blank. Blank... blank... blank... I began ripping through pages, savagely looking for my notes or any of her admission papers.

Nothing.

"No! No! No!" I screamed, "She was here!" I began describing every detail of the woman but stopped as I noticed my boss was giving me a look like she was afraid of me.

"Mara... I think you need to use your vacation days and go home for a couple of weeks. There has been no admissions in room 216B for over 6 months." I stared at the blank pages and said nothing. I had lost my mind. No one knew of a Rosemary but me... I was alone. I began questioning everything that had happened in the last few days, and began to believe that this was all a delusion caused by my own sleep deprivation. I had never truly been able to relate fully to my patients, until now. I had more empathy for them than I ever had. I made my way out of her office, packed the few things I had at work and walked to my car.

"I'm just crazy," I thought as I sat in the driver’s seat and slightly giggled. I couldn't wrap my mind around what had just happened. I felt it was real, but there was no proof that it was. I was stunned. I put my car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot. I was finally starting to feel the effects of the Benedryl about ten minutes into my drive. I turned on the radio to keep myself awake and my mind occupied. I stared hypnotized on the pavement. My eyes began to flutter, and I shook my head to stay awake. Again my eyes fluttered. As I tried to focus on the road something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. A single cockroach crawled up onto my steering wheel. At that moment, I lost it. I swung furiously at the creature, with intent to kill. My car jerked back and forth, swerving across the road. I was still swinging my fists violently in the car until finally… *CRASH*

My eyes began to flutter, but this time, they fluttered awake. My sight was blurry but the faint sounds of beeping and an IV drip filled the room. As my eyes began to focus I looked down and read my wrist band.

"Mara Landry. March 26, 1989. St. John's Hospital," at that moment I felt more safe than I had in days and more rested than I had felt in months. I sunk my head into my pillow and relaxed my body. As I began to nod off, a nurse popped his head around the corner of the doorway.

"Hey! You are awake! You have been out for three days! How are you feeling" he asked enthusiastically. It took me a moment to gather my thoughts.

"I'm fine! Actually, the best I've felt in awhile.” I went to move my feet to the edge of the bed but they were heavy. I pulled my blankets over and both my legs were bruised and had large casts up to my knees.

The nurse explained. "You had quite the accident, broke both of your legs, but you’re lucky! From the damage your car took, it's a miracle you're alive!" It didn't bother me actually, the comfort the hospital gave me made me want to stay forever. We went over my care plan, he checked me over, got my vital signs, got my insurance information, some signatures he needed from me, and explained future discharge plans. He replaced my bag of Saline on my IV and a last minute remark sprang in his head as he tossed the empty IV bag into the trash and began exiting the room.

"Oh I almost forgot to tell you. We have a patient being admitted within the next couple of hours and she will be your roommate. It shouldn't be a problem though, she's a sweet older lady. Her name is Rosemary."

#Horror #horrorfiction #scary #writer #writing #fiction #scarystory #writers

[lockedstuck]

they have covered my sky with crystal

2021, 04/08 - Sollux Captor

Dr. Vandayar is not the clinician who sees you today. Instead, it’s Dr. Cao, who keeps squinting at the light as if he’s got either a hangover or a migraine.

“So, Krishna tells me that you’ve made up your mind about ECT,” he says.

“I have.”

“And?”

“I want to do it,” you say. “On one condition.”

“And that is?” Dr. Cao asks smoothly, as if he’s accustomed to bartering with patients over undesirable treatments.

“If there isn’t any improvement by the seventh treatment, you let me go home. I’d be giving up almost three weeks of my life for this, but I have a lot to do. No doubt that Dr. V has told you about my living situation and responsibilities to my family.”

“As a matter of fact, he has.” Dr. Cao pours himself another coffee, from the pot on his desk. “But I have conditions for you as well, Mr. Captor.”

“Yeah? What are they?”

“If you do improve within seven treatments, I’d like you to stay for at least twelve, so we can get the most out of this modality. I’d also prefer if you went for maintenance ECT twice a week, once you can be managed in an outpatient setting.”

“Fine,” you reply.

“Alright, then.” Dr. Cao flips through your chart for a moment until he finds what he’s looking for. “Dolores said you wrote a 72 hour letter earlier this morning? Are you retracting it, or…?”

“Yes, I am. I actually retracted it about an hour after I wrote it. I worry about my family a lot. And my mother had gone missing again. My dad found her a couple blocks away, but she had no clue why she’d walked out, or what she had gone out to get. She’s got really bad schizophrenia, and her meds barely work. My sibling, they keep an eye on her, but they’re also mentally ill and not always there either.”

“Who takes care of them when you aren’t in the picture?”

“My dad, sir. But he works a lot, and he can’t always be around when some shit goes down.”

“Have you considered getting a home health aide for your mother in order to ease the burden of caring for her?”

“I mean, yeah, but it’s already hard for her to trust anyone in the family,” you explain. “I don’t know how she’d react to a stranger.”

“If that’s an issue, perhaps one of your extended family members could step in? There are programs where they can collect an income to care for her. I’ll be honest with you, Sollux. I feel like a decent amount of your depression stems from having so many responsibilities.”

“You can say that again.”

“I’m serious, Sollux. The ECT will help you to establish a baseline that isn’t crushing depression, but only you can make modifications to your life situation that will ease the burden of responsibility.”

Is he really suggesting that you let some rando or some dipshit cousin who’ll only be there for the paycheck watch your mother? Does he really think that’ll stress you out less?

“I can see the skepticism in your eyes,” he adds. “Go to your 10 AM group and I’ll be around to get things settled so you can start ECT by either Friday or next Monday.”

Instead of going straight to group, you take about fifteen minutes to shower the grime and dirt off your body. This is only the fourth shower you’ve taken in thirteen days. You hate looking at all the self-injury scars, so you lather up and wash as carefully as you can in ten of those minutes.

Your 10 AM group is DBT with Marisol Perez, the extern. She’s got a vision impairment but that doesn’t stop her from leading the group, or doing her job in general. And she doesn’t miss a beat despite your being twenty minutes late. She nods at you and hands you a worksheet. 

“Today, we’re discussing interpersonal effectiveness, through the application of the ‘DEAR MAN’ skill, Sollux.”

Yeah, you remember that skill. You take a seat with June, Porrim, Eridan and Latula. June looks uncharacteristically solemn today. 

You want to wish her a happy birthday, but you don’t want to upset her further. 

Latula waves at you, Porrim smiles, and Eridan gives you a jaunty little half-salute. You try to take notes on the last few minutes of group, but your discussion with Dr. Cao has left you nervous and jittery. What if your mother runs away from home and doesn’t come back while you’re here doing ECT? Are you really willing to take that chance?

You get up from your spot in the group and jog over to the nurses’ station. Dolores sits inside the charting room typing something up. You wave her over.

“Yes, Sollux?” she asks. “What can I do for you?”

“Can I get something for anxiety?”

“Of course you can,” she says. She checks the nearby computer. “Okay, let’s see what you can have.” A pause. “Do you want the lorazepam or the hydroxyzine?”

“Both.”

“You sure that you want both? Both will probably make you sleepy.”

“I know.”

By the time she gets both out of the machine, June has taken the spot immediately behind you, and Roxy behind her. You suppose you’re not the only one who is anxious today. However, behind you, June insists on switching places with Roxy. Sweat gleams off Roxy’s forehead as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

Once Dolores gives you your meds, she walks out of the nurses’ station and gives Roxy a once-over.

“Here, let me get a set of vitals on you,” she says, while the blonde girl shivers. You know you’re not supposed to stick around, that Roxy’s medical data is between her and Dolores, but Roxy looks genuinely sick. You’re not close to her like Porrim, June, and Eridan are, but you’re still worried, and you are her friend.

So is Dolores, once she gets a look at Roxy’s blood pressure.

“181/97,” Dolores murmurs. “That’s way too high. You’re in withdrawal.”

“No shit,” Roxy mutters through gritted teeth, and then apologizes for cursing at Dolores, who quickly checks the computer. 

“Okay, you’re due for Ativan in an hour and a half, but right this second, you’re due for clonidine and your methadone. Do you want those, and then I can call Dr. Cao and see about giving you the Ativan a little early?”

Roxy nods hastily and takes a seat on a chair not far from the nurse’s station.

As Dolores goes into the medication room, she calls for June. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, I just have to deal with this situation first.”

Dolores brings the medication to where Roxy sits. Roxy uses the liquid methadone in a styrofoam cup to swallow her clonidine. When she’s done, she gives both the medication cup and the larger cup back to Dolores.

“Okay, my dear. Sit tight and we’ll see about the Ativan when Dr. Cao calls back,” she says. She turns to June. “What was it that you wanted?”

“Anxiety meds.”

Dolores gives a little snort. “Is everyone coming to me because of anxiety? Are all of you okay? Bad group or something?”

“No, not at all. Marisol’s group was nice, but Roxy’s been anxious since before group started, Sollux was in a meeting with Dr. Cao, and I’ve been trying to manage my anxiety since right after breakfast.”

“You’re doing well, then, my dear,” Dolores replies. “And that was a kind thing you did, letting Roxy go before you.”

“It’s no problem. I’ve been waiting for something since before nine in the morning. Another couple minutes won’t hurt me.”

Dolores goes into the nurses’ station a final time and gets June’s medication together. A phone call from who only knows stalls her for a couple of minutes, and then she goes back into the med room. By the time she emerges, she has two medication cups.

“Okay, Roxy? I have your meds and June’s meds,” she calls. 

Roxy has been curled up into a ball on the bench for the last five minutes. You had given her a couple of napkins to wipe her face off, but she still looks sweaty.

“Right, June, you get two milligrams of lorazepam, and Roxy, you get… two miligrams of lorazepam,” she says. The pause makes Roxy giggle. She and June take their meds. Roxy asks Dolores if she can shower, and the latter goes into sharps to hand her her body wash, and her shampoo. 

“Make sure to give it back to me when you’re done, my dear” 

That’s when Dirk decides to walk by, and unlock the door to the outside enclosure.

“Fresh air break, everyone!” he calls. “C’mon y’all, come out and get that Vitamin D.”

“Hey Dirk!” Roxy calls, seeming slightly better. “Can you give me some of that that Vitamin D? Like, one on one?”

Dirk rolls his eyes and says something like, “They really need to up your mood stabilizers.”

You and June go outside to take in the cool air. It’s maybe sixty seven degrees outside, which isn’t bad at all. 

June takes off her hair tie and unbraids her hair. You watch several inches of almost ruler straight hair cascade down her back. Your mouth goes dry for a moment. You always had a knack for crushing on girls with long hair. June notices you looking at her and cocks her head to one side.

“Is there something on my face?”

“No, no, not at all,” you reply. “Your hair looks cute like that, though.”

Much to your surprise, June blushes. You had expected some joking nonchalance, but not that. You decide to change the subject.

“Thank you for talking to me late last night,” you tell her. “It helped more than you understand.”

You hadn’t meant to have June watch you cry at two in the morning, but she and Roxy were up in the dayroom, conducting a quiet conversation. Apparently, Roxy woke up with a bad stomach ache and muscle cramps, and that June woke up to keep her company until Ignacio could get in touch with a doctor and get Roxy a one-time late-night dose of something for pain and agitation.

While Roxy was at the nurses’ station waiting for Ignacio to finish paging the on-call doctor, you and June started shooting the shit. You told her about your father’s insistence on seeing you every single day during visiting hours, unless Aradia was visiting, since you could only have one visitor at a time. 

“I don’t understand it, June,” you told her, stray tears running down your face. “He’s sixty-three and he has diabetes and hypertension. He needs to take it easy, but he still shows up every day, after work. I wish he wouldn’t.”

“Your father loves you,” June said. “That much should be obvious.”

“Yeah, but why? I’m a waste of space. I dropped out of my master’s degree program, I barely help around the house, and I spent a week in bed, not moving. Just lazing around and hating myself. Then, I tried to cut my throat in our upstairs bathroom.”

June shook her head. 

“Unconditional love doesn’t only exist when you’re doing well. People who really love you will love you even when you’re not feeling up to do anything, even when you’re stuck in a vortex of depression. I barely left my room for a few months. And forget about going outside. I was so agoraphobic and depressed that even when my friends called me to hang out, I stayed in my room and didn’t leave.”

June rolled up her sleeves and showed you several straight-line scars covering her wrists and arms.

“My dad was shocked when he saw these. He couldn’t understand why anyone would do that. I guess that he and I both thought that once I started transitioning a couple years ago, I would never be depressed again. I told him I was suicidal, that my antidepressants had stopped working, and he brought me here. He’s not young either. He’ll be fifty-eight in a week. He has congestive heart failure. I’ve given up on telling him not to come see me every day. It’s a choice that he makes, because he loves me, and he worries about me.”

“What about your mom, though? You said a couple days ago that she was younger than your dad,” Sollux asked. “Why doesn’t she come to see you? My mom won’t come because she’s scared of psych wards.”

“My mother left when I was two. As it turns out, she wasn’t ready for the responsibility of parenting.”

Nervous, you scratched the back of your head. “Oh, wow. That’s awful. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“No worries. You didn’t know.”

You awkwardly ambled back to your room, where Gamzee lay in a sound sleep on the opposite bed. For some reason, sleep came easily back to you, and you awoke again at 6:40, feeling more rested than you had for a while.

Here and now, you peer into June’s bright blue eyes. She’s got a deck of cards in her hand that she arranges according to suit, to make sure none are missing. After she’s done, she sighs, annoyed.

“Someone took the three and the nine of spades, and never put them back.” She groans. “You can’t have a decent game of anything without these cards.”

“Maybe blackjack,” you suggest. “Or crazy eights.”

“We’d need more players for either one.”

[its-love-u-asshole]

Let My Love [Ch. 5]

Pairings: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru

Summary: For Kuroo, finding love was all about patience. He had no problem with waiting for the right person to come along, no matter how many awkward dinners or weddings he had to endure as a single man until they did. Regardless, meeting Tsukishima was something he’d never been prepared for. The feelings were overwhelming and intoxicating, ones he was sure he’d do anything for. However, it seemed his endless waiting wasn’t over.

Rating: T

Warnings: none

Note: Heh...so I know I've taken forever to update this, but I'm still here! I love this story too much to abandon it, but I've been super busy with school and other projects, so thanks for understanding! I hope I can have another chapter out soon, enjoy! Big thanks to @emeraldwaves for reading this over for me!

AO3

8tracks 

The earthy smell of the lakeside was something Tsukishima hadn't expected to enjoy, but standing out in the brisk morning air, he started to change his mind. Clutching his steaming coffee in one hand, he tightened the belt of his coat, pulling it snug around his shaking limbs. His glasses clouded at the contrast between warm and cold, but he didn't have enough energy, or care, to clean them. For once he felt no rush to do anything. The world around him sat still, almost frozen, the only indication of time being the chirping of birds and the rustle of bushes nearby. The mistiness of the air around him filled his lungs, cleansing them of any smog or clutter from the city.

Tsukishima was a urban soul at heart, not even growing up in the country changed that, but now he seemed to appreciate the calm quiet of the wilderness more than ever. The dark soil, the dew on the grass, he couldn't help but take it all in with fascination.

Free. Invigorating. And for just a moment, his problems felt miles and miles away. He was still painfully exhausted from waking up far too early, the sun barely beginning to peak over the horizon, but what else was new?

At least right here, right now, he had serenity, not the crushing weight of secrets and appearances.

Tsukishima took a sip of coffee, wincing as it burned his tongue but not bothering to pull away. It felt good, somehow. The burn traveled through him, waking him up as the caffeine raced in his veins, giving him fuel for the rest of the sure to be eventful day. Tsukishima was a stranger to most camp activities, but the ignorance actually helped in this case. He didn't feel as anxious about anything, well, except maybe--

"Oh, you're here," Kuroo said as he froze in the doorway of the house, the screen door banging obnoxiously into the silence behind him. It would've been hilarious, the image of Kuroo standing in a bathrobe with his leg outstretched awkwardly in the air, but the noise ruined it. Tsukishima cringed at the sound at the same time Kuroo did, and they both went quiet, waiting for a sign that anyone else in the house might've woken up.

Nothing.

Tsukishima exhaled, thankful, and Kuroo strolled up to him seconds later. Everyone had been tolerable so far, if not enjoyable to be around, but Tsukishima wasn't quite ready for the morning clamor to begin.

Somehow, his brain traitorously reminded, Kuroo wasn't considered a part of that, because Tsukishima felt no disdain at his presence. Secret or not, it was no lie Kuroo had been a part of his daily life for a while now. They'd gotten along from the start, and having Kuroo beside him felt about as natural as the sun rising ahead.

Tsukishima wasn't awake enough to hate the fact, so he begrudgingly let it slide.

A creak from the old house caused Tsukishima to tense, but it was nothing more than a squirrel running on the gutter. He sighed in relief.

As if reading his mind, Kuroo chuckled. "Don't worry, all of my friends sleep like logs, they won't be up until eight or nine at least."

"Please, Yuuji has never woken up before ten in the whole time I've known him," Tsukishima said, biting his lip at the mention of his boyfriend. Needless to say, it probably was an awkward topic for them, but either Kuroo was great at hiding his feelings or too tired to care, because he only laughed.

"Yeah, he's the worst. Even if he goes to bed early, he's a pain to wake up," Kuroo said, eyeing the woods ahead of them. He'd yet to meet Tsukishima eyes, which only struck him as a bad sign because of how infrequent it was. Kuroo always looked him in the eyes, too much so at times.

Maybe it was the insinuation of sex, or maybe just the reminder of Tsukishima's relationship that did it, but Tsukishima wished he hadn't said anything. There was no reason to feel guilty, and he knew Kuroo didn't hold anything against him, but...something was weird, something he couldn't pick out precisely without getting into the nitty-gritty of things, which he did not want.

Tsukishima went silent again, hating the now tense air permeating around them, staining the bubble of peace he'd managed to cultivate.

"You couldn't sleep," Kuroo stated, no trace of a question. His smile was almost smug, and Tsukishima couldn't help but glare.

"Yeah so? I have--"

"You have trouble sleeping. You toss and turn, go to bed late. Then you wake up early even though you're exhausted. I know. You've told me," Kuroo elaborated, voice growing more confident by the minute. Infuriating. Mostly because he was spot on, and Tsukishima had probably only mentioned it once before. It had been enough though. How much had Tsukishima shared with Kuroo?

"Feel good about yourself?" Tsukishima deadpanned, chugging the rest of his coffee and forcing himself to swallow the boiling liquid. He needed it.

"Most of the time, yeah," Kuroo said, smirking. "But mostly I like surprising you with my intricate knowledge of Tsukkiology."

"...Tsukkiology?" He couldn't help but repeat, fighting a smile, one that was only diminished by one observation. Kuroo still wouldn't look at him. "Are you serious?"

"Hey, it's a very difficult field of study," Kuroo said, throwing up his hand. "It's harder than med school, believe me. I worked hard to get to this point."

Then look at me.

Tsukishima snorted despite the sudden ache he felt, pushing the feeling aside in defiance. "You're a dork, you majored in being a buttface, with a Masters in asshattery."

"PhD thank you very much," Kuroo said, and they both grinned. But they could only play around for so long before the quiet overcame them again. They were out of coffee, something about the silence was far from comfortable, the banter was off because of it, and Kuroo still wouldn't look at him.

Tsukishima's hands tightened around his mug, the sole thing keep him from strangling Kuroo and yelling at him to spit it out.

What, he didn't know, hell he didn't even know if he wanted to hear it, given how it was likely to be less than pleasant, but the tension was killing him.

Fuck it. Fuck it all. Tsukishima hated confrontation, but this was Kuroo wasn't it? Obviously, he'd never had issues talking to him before, so whatever. They were going to do this now, had to do this now, before everyone woke up and Tsukishima was forced to endure this wall between them for the rest of the vacation.

Steeling himself, Tsukishima inhaled sharply, prepping himself for a conversation about god knows what. "Kuroo--"

"I'm sorry about dinner last night," Kuroo spat out, talking a mile a minute. The words spread out into the air, and Tsukishima swore even the birds stopped chirping.

Tsukishima's jaw hung open, startled. "I, the...what?"

Kuroo just wanted to apologize? That's all?

And all of a sudden, Tsukishima got his wish. Kuroo sighed, his shoulders slumping as he turned to finally face him. Their eyes met, and Tsukishima nearly dropped his mug from the force of it. Kuroo's eyes were so weird, abnormal. Sharp and enticing, boring into him like pure gold, shining even against the dimness around them.

Tsukishima instantly felt that tension from earlier dissolve, melting and turning into a comfort, a reassurance. They were okay. Things weren't exactly all well and good but...in that moment, they were okay.

Tsukishima didn't understand why that felt so damn relieving.

Kuroo's eyes widened too, and Tsukishima stupidly wondered what he was thinking. If it was the same for him, that same, weird barrier crumbling right in Tsukishima's eyes. Feeling self-conscious, Tsukishima flicked his eyes to the ground, breaking the spell, and it did the trick.

Kuroo coughed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his robe. "Yeah, I just...I was a jerk. I'm sorry, I won't do that again. I mean, I'm still coming to terms with..."

Don't say it. Don't acknowledge it.

Tsukishima cursed himself. There was nothing to acknowledge.

Kuroo seemed to remember Tsukishima's thoughts on the subject too, because he quickly shut up.

"Um, nothing, anyways," Kuroo continued, his voice strained. "I hope you can forgive me for being so awkward about...whatever."

What the hell am I supposed to say to that?

God, neither of them made things easy, did they?

Tsukishima placed his hands on the railing of the porch, steadying himself. Thankfully, his mind and heart were ahead of him. Memories of the last night's dinner flashed in his mind, but one stood out.

Kuroo, bombarded with questions about his love life, his usually confident self shrinking under the pitying stares. How he'd frowned in disappointment, and how no one would get off his damn back.

Tsukishima had hated that, more than he could truly comprehend. He knew how sensitive Kuroo was about it deep down, and really, Tsukishima couldn't blame him for getting frustrated.

Tsukishima's involvement in the matter was a separate issue right then, one which Tsukishima hoped wouldn't come up again, but also knew that was wishful thinking. There was always more to say between them. But for now...

"You didn't do anything, it's alright," Tsukishima said with a smile, hoping it communicated enough of the storm of feelings inside him.

Kuroo paused, staring at him with the softest of smiles, and Tsukishima knew in an instant that Kuroo got the message loud and clear. "Yeah, okay."

Tsukishima hummed, looking out at the expanse of forest and the gravel road leading up to the lakehouse. For now, the wall between them was gone, and Tsukshima felt at peace once more.

Headlights in the distance, and the sounds of tires driving over the rocks halted the illusion though, grounding him back in reality.

"Who is that?" Tsukishima asked, squinting as he finally removed his glasses to clean them. There were no houses nearby, so maybe this person was simply lost, though it seemed unlikely. There had been signs everywhere...

"No idea," Kuroo said, already descending down the steps of the house. "But there's only one way to find out."

--

Iwaizumi always, always labeled Oikawa as the dramatic one in the relationship. But for real, he felt like he'd been driving for years.

His eyes ached, begging him to stop and get some shut eye. Everything in him screamed for sleep, but the sky advised otherwise. The sun was barely beginning to rise above the horizon, shining through the miles of forest and bringing the woods to life.

Had Iwaizumi been less tired, he would have marveled at the contrast between here and the city. After hours of driving, more than a few wrong turns, and several faulty GPS incidents, they'd finally made it to the lake house Oikawa had gushed about, and now he completely understood why.

Rolling down the window, Iwaizumi let the air wash into the car, the chill enveloping his senses and making his desire to see Oikawa all the more strong.

Soon, soon...

Suga jolted awake beside him as the tires of Iwaizumi's beat up car hit the gravel, blinking the sleepiness out of his eyes. While Iwaizumi knew they'd be driving for a good portion of the night, he hadn't expected to drive all night. It was worth it though, he was only a day late, and now he was within a mile of Oikawa, so close to touching him, holding him...

But it looked like he'd have to get some awkward introductions out of the way first.

When Iwaizumi cut the ignition of his car, he didn't even have a minute to relax. Ahead, on the porch of the house, were two figures, warily staring at his car.

Well duh, I'm not supposed to be here.

"Hurry, before they think we're burglars," Suga commented, rubbing his eyes and slapping his cheeks until he looked refreshed and bright. Iwaizumi hated how he made it look so easy, like effortless beauty was Suga's natural setting.

Witchcraft.

"Early morning burglars?" Iwaizumi replied, yawning.

"It could happen."

And with that, they stepped out of the car, letting the chilly air and lack of exhaust fill their lungs, sparking them further into wakefulness. It was like being punched almost, but way more pleasant, and Iwaizumi was more than grateful.

"Uh hey, can I help you?" One of the guys said, and Iwaizumi couldn't help but marvel slightly at his intense bed head as he approached. How does this guy sleep?

At least it made identifications easy. From Oikawa's stories, it was clear as day that this was Kuroo. The blond beside him though, Iwaizumi couldn't place.

Iwaizumi look his hands out of his pockets despite the freezing temperature, bowing politely.

"Yeah, sorry, this was supposed to be a surprise but I guess I didn't think it all the way through," Iwaizumi said, grinning sheepishly. "I'm Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa's--"

The gasp Kuroo gave was loud and dramatic enough to send both Iwaizumi and Suga back a few steps.

"You're the famous Iwa-chan, so you're really not some delusion Oikawa made up," Kuroo said, nodding in appreciation as his eyes roamed over Iwaizumi, almost like he was scanning him. He tried not to show how weirded out he was on his face. "Shirabu definitely owes me money now, he didn't even believe Semi when he told him about you."

The blond at Kuroo's side elbowed the raven promptly, and from the looks of it, rather harshly too. "Please. I thought you were supposed to be great in social situations..."

"Hey, I'm excellent at this stuff," Kuroo defended, elbowing the blond back. "And you didn't let me finish my coffee."

"Yes, because it was my fault."

"Thanks for admitting it."

"You--"

"Well, I'm having fun already," Suga interrupted, his smile immediately making all heads turn. His gentle eyes drifted to Kuroo, his head tilting as the usual glint of mischief flashed across his face. "Nice to meet you, um..."

Kuroo eyes widened slightly, finally taking Suga in, and yeah, he tended to have that effect on people. Iwaizumi chuckled to himself, not regretting his insistence on bringing Suga along with him.

He acted like a shield of sorts, since no one could really hate Suga, and Iwaizumi hoped that good favor filtered into him.

So far, it looked like Kuroo would be easy to get along with. This blond though...

"Tsukishima," the blond said, cutting Kuroo off before he could even utter a syllable. The tone was frostier than the weather, and Tsukishima's eyes gleamed with something less than friendly.

Tsukishima...

If Iwaizumi remembered correctly, Tsukishima was Terushima's new boyfriend. Oikawa certainly went on about his friends enough for Iwaizumi to keep up. But from how fun-loving and zany Terushima apparently was, it was a bit daunting to find out this was his boyfriend. Unless he was getting people mixed up again...

But oh well, if they were serious, Iwaizumi was going to be seeing a lot of the blond in the future, so he'd best get used to him.

"I'm Sugawara, but Suga is fine," Suga continued, unaffected by Tsukishima's demeanor. "It's nice to meet you, sorry for tagging along with Hajime here..."

"I hope you don't mind that I invited him," Iwaizumi scrambled to say. "Oikawa said there'd be more than enough rooms, so I just thought--"

"Don't sweat it," Kuroo said, raising his hands with a small laugh. "We don't mind, after all, you're going to make Oikawa obnoxiously happy now that you're here, so we couldn't exactly object. And I'm Kuroo by the way, but I'm sure with how Oikawa gossips, you knew that."

"Guilty," Iwaizumi said with a shrug, and from the way Kuroo laughed, he had a feeling he was already off to a good start. 

Kuroo smirked, stealing a glance at Tsukishima's stubborn expression and looking very close to commenting on it. But rather than have to break up another round of bickering, Iwaizumi spoke up, intent on moving things along.

"Should we move our bags?" he asked, more than eager to get into the warmth of the house. But more than that, the burn was back. He felt it everywhere, in his veins and under his skin, the overwhelming urge to see Oikawa, to touch him and look into his big brown eyes.

It had been too long, anything more than a few days was too long.

Iwaizumi's hands thrummed against his side, antsy and starving for contact with the person he loved most, and from the way Kuroo's eyes followed the motion, he wasn't hiding his thoughts well.

But screw it, when had Iwaizumi ever been shy about his feelings for Oikawa? They were too old for that crap, and it would've been difficult to hide anyways.

After all, this was Oikawa Tooru he was dating, and Iwaizumi in no way wanted to be subtle about it.

As if reading his mind, Kuroo shook his head in amusement, turning to look towards the large windows on the second floor of the house. "Oh, why not?"

Feeling the pull like a magnet, Iwaizumi fixed his gaze there as well, knowing soon that he'd cross the last barrier between him and his boyfriend.

--

The first thing Oikawa thought when he woke up was that it was way too cold. The old walls of the house did nothing to keep out the morning air, letting it seep in and over him freely. He pulled the comforter tighter around his body, his long limbs sprawled out on the over-sized bed, and immediately wished it was Iwaizumi instead.

The warmth would've been much appreciated. The bed felt far too empty.

Oikawa swallowed thickly, grimacing at the foul taste in his mouth due to morning breath, and willed himself not to dwell on the thoughts.

They were all going camping today, and he'd get to take lots of cute selfies to send to Iwaizumi. There was no way he was going to allow himself to get all worked up again. If he sat and thought about it, it would only make things worse.

Missing Iwaizumi remained a constant and steadfast feeling lodged deep in his chest, but he wouldn't let it ruin his time with his friends. It wasn't like this was the last time they'd ever be together. Iwaizumi could meet them next time.

Exhaling slowly, Oikawa let the resolution sink in, not for the first time. This was sure to come up again, in the moments when he saw Semi and Shirabu holding hands, or when the view of the sunset felt far too romantic to stare at alone. But that was fine. He'd just keep reminding himself, as many times as it took.

He pulled the covers off in a frenzy, eager to shake off the weight as soon as possible. If he focused on getting ready, on making breakfast, on the camping trip, he wouldn't have time to think about much else. There was a lot to do.

His hair was a mess, he needed coffee, and he needed to pick out the perfect outfit for the day. There was no room for anything with worries like that to be dealt with.

Confident in his resolve, Oikawa's feet touched the ice cold floor, sending a jolt up his spine which caused him to shudder violently.

That's one way to wake up.

Shucking on his nearest coat, Oikawa walked to his window, happy he had arrived early enough to score the room with the large bay windows, cracking molding or not. They overlooked the forest, the lake visible to the side.

Perfect for sunset viewing.

Oikawa shook his head. No. Nope. Dangerous train of thought.

With a yawn, he drew back the curtains with a little more force than necessary, letting in the first rays of sun as they began to peak over the horizon. And then, like a strike of lightening, all his early thoughts were eradicated from his mind. The cold ceased to pierce his skin, the large curls of his hair sticking up seemed less important.

None of it mattered. Not now. 

Oikawa didn't really remember how he ended up on the porch, he just knew it happened in a split second, like he'd been controlled by some unknown force. He ran down the stairs, holding his breath the whole way, because he was definitely still dreaming. It was all a dream.

Even as he threw open the front door, he was convinced of it. There was no way...no fucking way.

But there Oikawa was, standing on the dusty porch without shoes and dressed in his pajama bottoms, his hair uncombed and the sand still in his eyes. He hadn't taken a breath, hadn't comprehended much of anything, except that in front of him was...

"Hey," Iwaizumi said, voice still riddled with evidence of exhaustion, and the one syllable seemed to stall everything, a moment frozen in time.

Iwaizumi was midway up the porch steps, suitcase in hand. Or, it had been in his hand. Now it was just sitting lopsided on the floor, Iwaizumi's hand outstretched as if he still held it.

Dreaming, dreaming, you're dreaming...

"Hi," Oikawa whispered, the mistiness in his eyes no longer attributed to his tiredness. His throat felt closed up, the scratchiness coming through in his voice. Kuroo and Suga were staring at him in amusement from the porch railing, Tsukishima standing close to Kuroo, and all at once it all came crashing down onto him. His feet were freezing, and he was awake. More than awake. Alert, emotional, and above all else...

"Hajime!" Oikawa called, the happiness overflowing from his chest, so much so that he thought everyone might be able to feel it.

And just like that, time resumed.

There was something about seeing the person you love after even a brief period of separation. Nothing really changed. Iwaizumi looked the same, if not for the bags under his eyes and ruffled hair. The look in his eyes wasn't novel either, the adoration and loyalty shining through, all for Oikawa.

None of it shocked Oikawa, but his heart raced, and his palms sweat regardless. Because no matter how short the separation or how little the change, any time apart was simply too long.

Iwaizumi acted before Oikawa could even take one step, pulling Oikawa into a tight embrace. Yeah, that was definitely the warmth he'd been missing, no comforter would ever match up. Oikawa breathed out shakily, arms caressing his boyfriend's sides as if he'd disappear with any more force.

Fuck. He's real. This is real. Okay.

After that, he didn't give a damn how hard he squeezed, Iwaizumi was there, in the flesh.

"What are you...how did you..." Oikawa tried his best to formulate full sentences, but it was a task. All he wanted to do was hug his boyfriend tighter, among...other things, but they had an audience.

"It wanted to surprise you," Iwaizumi said, threading his hand through the knots in Oikawa's hair. "I finished my work early because I wanted to see you...I...well...you--"

"I missed you too," Oikawa said with a snort, but the longing in his tone was unmistakable. "I'm so glad you're here..."

Iwaizumi nodded against him, shoulders trembling from either his stiff limbs or the weight of his joy. Maybe both. Either way, Oikawa would soothe both wounds. Now that Iwaizumi was here, everything would be perfect.

"Your hair is a mess," Iwaizumi muttered into Oikawa' shoulder, his voice quaking with a mix of laughter and emotion. "I missed you so much..."

Fuck me, I'm going to cry. I can't cry in front of Kuroo. No. Nope.

Oikawa bit his lip, but sure enough, his eyes watered, and whatever, screw it.

Oikawa couldn't help but roll his eyes affectionately, kissing Iwaizumi's cheek. He buried his face in Iwaizumi's shoulder, breathing him in, and noting that he was the farthest thing from cold.

--

After the tearful hellos and awkward introductions, Oikawa was gradually being reminded of everything he wanted and needed to show Iwaizumi.

"This is our room! Oh and Suga can have the one down the hall, it's perfect, and the beds are so comfortable!"

"The view is best from this room!"

"You have to see the kitchen, it's probably worth a fortune. I'll try to make Semi bake for everyone later."

"Oh! And did you see--"

It all went by in a bit of a whirlwind, but Iwaizumi didn't mind. His boyfriend would no doubt scold him for not listening later, but that was fine. He was just...so happy he was with Oikawa again, hearing his voice ramble on about every useless detail.

Well, they weren't useless to Oikawa, details never were, and Iwaizumi felt another surge of affection as he followed the brunet around the house.

Oikawa wasn't exactly quiet either, parading past the rooms without a care for how early it was. As a result, he'd basically met everyone along the way, even though some of them were less than friendly...though the anger ended up being directed less at him, and more at--

"Oikawa! Shut the hell up!"

Iwaizumi turned from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter, finding Terushima in a loose tank top and checkered pajama pants. His hair was probably somewhere between Oikawa's and Kuroo's in the competition for worst bedhead, and Iwaizumi did his best to keep his face neutral. Good impressions, he reminded, good impressions.

Oikawa didn't care.

"Maybe if you take a shower first. You look like you came from the seventh layer of hell," the brunet said with a smirk, dodging the slipper which was thrown at his head. It hit the wall with a slap, and Iwaizumi was suddenly thankful it hadn't managed to hit Oikawa. It probably would've knocked him the fuck out.

Suga snorted from the bar stool next to him, and Terushima's eyes glared playfully. "Oh, so you think this is funny? Not all of us can look so good with no sleep," he said, a yawn breaking up the words.

Suga laughed wholeheartedly this time, flipping part of his hair. "I'm glad I'm so lucky then."

Suga's eyes shone with mischief, but malicious intent was nowhere to be found. Suga had that way of drawing people in naturally. Hell, Suga had been in the house just as long as Iwaizumi, not even an hour, and he already seemed to be well liked. He even got a smile out of Shirabu, which from Oikawa's stories, was not an easy feat.

Iwaizumi sighed to himself, smiling as Oikawa gave him a look which communicated more or less the same thought. At least it makes me look better.

Terushima tilted his head then, almost like some evil plan was gradually forming in his head. He licked his lips, his tongue ring peeking out as he contemplated whatever idea he'd been struck with. Iwaizumi didn't know enough about him to determine whether it was a good or bad thing either. There really wasn't time to think about it either. As if the lightbulb finally went off, Terushima sidled up to the three of them, causing them to huddle on the small kitchen island.

It was comical really, and Iwaizumi wanted to comment on how they were too old for this, but in truth it was amusing. If he was already being entrusted with keeping secrets, he should take advantage.

Terushima nodded at Suga, his voice dropping into a whisper. "Hey...are you single?"

Suga's eyes widened, the smile dropping off his face. "Well...yeah but, I thought you were dating Tsukishima..."

"Oh, I am. I'm not asking for me," Terushima said, chuckling. "See, Kuroo--"

"Yuuji," a more than annoyed voice shattered their bubble, and Iwaizumi turned to find Tsukishima standing in the kitchen doorway, a frown marring his face. His arms were crossed, and he looked weirdly out of place. Uncomfortable almost, but it wasn't like Iwaizumi was completely settled in yet either. They were both new additions to the party of friends, so it made sense.

Terushima's head shot up like a bullet at the appearance of the blond. Not so much out of fear, but more...

"Babe! There you are," Terushima said happily, moving to wrap his arms around Tsukishima with no concern for the icy glare or stiff posture. Terushima seemed to know how to rectify that though. He pinched Tsukishima's cheek, stretching the skin until Tsukishima couldn't hold back a laugh any longer.

The blond's apparent disgruntlement receded, and he swatted at Terushima's hand. "Cut it out!"

"That's your punishment! When I woke up you weren't there..." Terushima sighed loudly, his voice giving way to a whine as he put all his weight on his boyfriend.

Tsukishima stiffened from the contact, adjusting himself as best he could to support Terushima. "Hey, it wasn't my fault. I couldn't sleep."

Terushima finally relented, arching a brow. "Huh? How come?"

"Remember? I have insomnia, it's hard for me to sleep," Tsukishima said, rubbing his eyes. Now that he said it, Iwaizumi did think the blond looked tired. The bags under his eyes could rival Iwaizumi's own.

Insomnia was no joke either, Oikawa suffered for it from time to time. Iwaizumi worried, but lately he'd been getting better. At the thought of getting to sleep in the same bed as his boyfriend again, Iwaizumi squeezed Oikawa's hand from under the counter.

"Oh yeah," Terushima said with a shrug, and Iwaizumi couldn't help but snort at the obliviousness. Granted, he never really understood people who couldn't get to sleep until he met Oikawa, so there was that.

"That sucks, you can still go camping with us right?" Terushima asked.

"I'm not dying, so yes," Tsukishima said with a snort. "Shirabu told me there'd be s'mores, so it's not like I'm going to miss it."

"There's the right attitude," Suga said from his seat, and at the mention of camping, Oikawa sprang into action once again.

"We still have to pack! Teru, what the hell are you doing? Get ready!" Oikawa called, throwing Terushima's slipper back at him with maximum force. "We have to get the tents and the food together!"

"Okay, fuck, calm down," Shirabu said grouchily as he entered the kitchen. "It's still early, and Eita already got all the tents and sleeping bags together, no thanks to you."

Oikawa huffed indignantly, crossing his arms, and damn why is he so cute?

"It's not my fault he doesn't ask for help!"

"You've known us how long again?"

"So, what can we help with?" Suga interjected hastily, as eager as Iwaizumi to avoid the catfight. It did the trick.

In the blink of an eye, Oikawa was pulling out a checklist, telling everyone what they'd need to pack and arguing about what kind of food to bring. As the kitchen began to fill with the rest of the house's inhabitants, every voice melted into the next, the discussion warping into a frenzy.

It was pure chaos, and Oikawa was at the helm, but Iwaizumi wouldn’t have expected any less.

Yeah, this was going to be interesting.

#kurotsuki #adri writing #haikyuuwriters #kurotsukki #iwaoi

[birdiethebibliophile]

{fic} Sight Unseen

Rating:  G (no warnings) Relationship:  Lucien/Cassian Word Count:  1,828

Tagging @squaddreamcourt. The promised Lussian fluff.

Also tagging @filippaeilharts and @hazelestelle because y’all encouraged me with my Lussian WIPs, like, MONTHS ago and here is one FINALLY.

Here on AO3.

Summary:

Based on @yalenayardeen‘s Cutthroat Fanfiction: ACOTAR Edition Generator!  (Yes, I’m still using it.) Prompt was:

CHARACTERS: cassian and lucien; TROPE: blind date; TWIST: you must drink 3 alcoholic beverages (or 3 cups of highly caffeinated coffee/tea if you don't drink alcohol) just before writing the fic

(note: I did not follow the twist very exactly, but alcohol, caffeine, and late nights were involved)

__________________

Lucien was nervous.

He hadn’t been on a date in years. Years. He thought maybe the last time he went on a date was that twenty-seven-year-old hipster with the goatee and the beanie. His name was – God, Lucien couldn’t even remember what his name was, but he’d been a terrible kisser.

It didn’t give him high hopes for the date tonight.

His friend Feyre had been the one to set him up. Apparently now that she was getting laid on a regular basis, she thought that was the cure to all ills. You’ll like him, I promise, she’d wheedled when setting up the date. He’s totally your type.

Gay? Lucien had replied sarcastically.

Feyre had pouted. Lucien. You’re being difficult.

Can you at least tell me what his name is? What he looks like? So I don’t have to twerk on every guy under thirty in Rita’s to figure out who my date is?

All Feyre had told him was that the man’s name was Cassian, and he was an acquaintance of Rhys’s.

Lucien was not getting his hopes up. Especially as this Cassian was now – he checked his watch – almost ten minutes late.

He was sitting at the bar, next to Elain and her SO, Amren. Elain had happily volunteered to accompany him just in case, as he had said. Though from the way the two were making out now, Lucien didn’t think they’d be much help if this Cassian turned out to be a creep.

“Lucien Kelly?”

Lucien turned on the stool, and then – looked up. And up. He blinked several times. In front of him was an exceedingly tall, exceedingly buff, exceedingly handsome man. He was the kind of fit that you didn’t get from working out – the kind of fit you got from a job where you were lifting heavy things every five minutes. He must’ve just come from that job, whatever it was, because he looked a bit disheveled:  flannel shirt partly unbuttoned, hair escaping from a messy bun, crooked smile surrounded by a five o’clock shadow.

Realizing the man was still waiting for an answer, Lucien cleared his throat. “That’s me.”

The man’s smile broadened, making his eyes crinkle. “I’m Cassian,” he said. “Your date.”

“Oh. Well. Nice to meet you,” Lucien said weakly as Cassian slid onto the barstool next to him.

“Buy you a drink?” Cassian offered.

“You don’t have to –”

Cassian cut him off with an airy wave of his hand. “Nah, I owe you for being late. Sorry about that.”

“Sure,” Lucien said, hard feelings draining away.

“It’s my boss’s fault,” Cassian confided as he motioned the bartender over. “Excuse me – a Guinness and whatever my friend wants.”

“Tullamore Dew, neat,” Lucien told the bartender.

Cassian grinned. “You have good taste. Anyways, I work at a farm about an hour away, and I told Mor that I needed to get off early because I had a date, but she said, and I quote, ‘Time and tide wait for no man, Cassian, and neither do cows, so get your ass in that barn.’”

Lucien laughed. “You really milk cows for a living?”

Cassian rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. “And lift hay bales and groom horses and shit. I hope I don’t smell like work – I didn’t have time to take a shower before coming over here.”

Lucien leaned in slightly, inhaling. “You do, but not unpleasantly,” he decided, unwilling to tell Cassian as yet that Lucien found the other man’s scent of hay and manure and sweat to be kind of… attractive.

“Well, I’m glad you don’t mind.” Cassian’s eyes swept down Lucien’s form. “I thought maybe –” He broke off, flushing. “Um, what I mean to say is that you look very nice.”

“You thought that I might be a stuck-up rich pretty boy?” Lucien supplied bluntly. “I know I look it. And smell it,” he added, thinking back to the touch of cologne he put on before heading out the door. He regretted it now; he didn’t want anything to obscure Cassian’s natural scent.

Cassian grinned sheepishly. “Maybe. Anyways, what do you do for a living?” He grabbed the glass of beer the bartender slid over to him and took a sip.

“I work in human resources,” Lucien said with a sigh. “Not nearly as interesting. It’s a lot of filing papers and answering angry phone calls.”

“Wait – like, you’re a secretary?”

Lucien scowled. “Okay, yeah, I’m a secretary.”

Cassian grinned. “Nothing wrong with that. I just can’t see you fitting in at an office, with the eye and the hair and everything.” He reached out and wound a strand of Lucien’s hair around one finger, rubbing it between the finger and his thumb. “Do you like it?”

“Eh.” Lucien shrugged. “I’m pretty good at it. My boss can be a bitch sometimes, but he’s a pretty good guy, and it pays well.”

“So you’re not stuck-up, and you’re not rich.” Cassian grinned, tugging lightly at the strand of Lucien’s hair before letting it go. “But you are pretty.”

Lucien took a hasty sip of his whiskey to hide his growing blush. “You’re prettier than me,” he argued once he’d set his glass down again.

Cassian gave him an exaggeratedly doubtful look, so Lucien leaned over and pinched his arm lightly. “Well, there’s more of you, isn’t there?” he said with an impish smile.

Cassian burst into laughter. “You have a point there,” he admitted. “Rhys didn’t mention you were funny.”

“Oh?” Lucien said, voice casual. “What did he say about me?”

“Nothing much,” Cassian said. “He said you were a friend of Feyre’s, and that going on a date would help me, quote, get over myself.”

Lucien raised his eyebrows at Cassian over his whiskey glass.

Cassian grinned. “I’ve been teasing the bastard non-stop about him and Feyre. Serves him right. He’s been swooning all over the place. Can’t say a word to him without him bringing her up. Anyways, Rhys insisted that being single was as good as being dead, so he’s been setting me up on dates for the past month.” Cassian leaned in, as if to tell Lucien a secret. Lucien noticed that his lips were slightly chapped, in a nice sort of way. “Between you and me, you’re the first one who hasn’t made me want to run out of the room. Congratulations.” Cassian lifted his glass and touched it to Lucien’s.

Lucien’s face felt hot as Cassian sat back up and took a drink of beer. “Thanks – I think. Though I’d like to think I rate a little higher on the date scale than that.”

Cassian made a thoughtful face. “It all depends,” he said. “I have high standards, I’ll have you know.”

“And what might those be?”

“Pretty simple, really. Be a good person. Like me for my personality as well as my good looks. Oh, and you have to like cats. I have one.”

Lucien grinned back. “Well, I can’t speak to the first qualification, but you have an absolutely sparkling personality to match your impressive biceps, and I have a cat as well.”

“Two thirds of the way there, then. What’s your cat’s name?”

“His name is Pumpkin, and he’s gigantic and orange. What about yours?”

“Muffin. She’s a tiny tortoiseshell,” Cassian said fondly.

Lucien snickered. “Did you pick the most stereotypical cat name ever on purpose?”

“Maybe,” Cassian admitted. “But I say having a cat named Muffin is one of the great joys of this life, you know?”

“Sure,” Lucien said agreeably. “Along with good whiskey –” he raised his glass in demonstration “– and winning at Monopoly.”

Cassian laughed, and Lucien felt a rush of ridiculous pleasure at being the cause. “I can’t imagine you can treat yourself to the second too often on a secretary’s salary,” he started to tease, then stopped. “I think there’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

“Hmm? Oh, hi, Elain,” Lucien said in surprise, turning on his barstool.

“Hi,” she said. Judging by the breathy quality to her voice, and the presence of at least two visible bruises on her neck, she and Amren would need to get a room soon. “Do we need to kill anyone?”

Lucien exchanged a glance with Cassian, who gave him one filled with mock horror. “No, we’re good,” he told Elain.

She beamed at him. “I’m going home with Amren, then,” she said.

“Okay.”

“To have sex.”

“Okay, Elain,” Lucien said, rather more loudly than before. “Have fun.”

“We will!” Elain said in the sing-song voice she used after three drinks, as Amren tugged her towards the door.

“I am so sorry,” Lucien said, turning back to Cassian. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t, you know, an axe murderer.”

“No offense taken,” Cassian said. “That was – erm – Feyre’s sister?”

“Oh, yes.”

“I can see the resemblance,” Cassian said thoughtfully. “They’re both equally obsessed with fucking.”

Lucien snorted into his glass. “That’s one way of putting it. Feyre set me up with you because she thinks getting me laid will cure my depression.” Then he processed what he’d just said and turned crimson. “Shit. I mean – not that – God, there were so many things wrong with that sentence.”

But Cassian was laughing. “She and Rhys were made for each other. Do you really have depression?”

“Yeah,” Lucien said. “Does that freak you out?”

“Nah,” Cassian said. “I’m on meds for ADHD, so no judgment here.”

Lucien let out a silent exhale. “I bet working on that farm helps as well, huh?”

“Hell yeah,” Cassian said. “I’ve been working for Mor since I graduated high school. College was never really for me, you know?”

Lucien nodded, then grinned. “Good thing you have the body for it, huh?”

“Are you ogling me?” Cassian accused.

“Maybe,” Lucien murmured, eyes dropping to the unbuttoned V of Cassian’s shirt. “Or maybe I’m admiring your personality.”

He was rewarded for his wit with Cassian’s laugh.

He was really starting to like that laugh.

*****

Cassian checked his watch. They’d been at the bar long enough that hordes of already-drunk college kids had started to pour in. “I guess I should head out – I start work at five thirty, and plus, Muffin gets upset if I feed her any later than eleven.”

“I should go, too.” Lucien started to stand up, but was stopped by Cassian’s hand on his arm.

“I really like you, Lucien Kelly,” he said softly. “And I’d like to do this again sometime. What do you say?”

“I’d like that too,” Lucien said, and he found that he meant it.

Cassian’s sudden smile – genuine, and bright as morning sunshine – took up his whole face. “I’ll see you soon, then.” And he leaned in and pressed his chapped lips to Lucien’s cheek.

“See you,” Lucien murmured, watching Cassian make his way to the door, with a dazed expression on his face and one hand to his cheek like he could still feel Cassian’s lips.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acomaf fanfiction #acowar #acowar fanfiction #lucien #lucien vanserra #cassian #lucien x cassian #lussian #lussian fanfiction #m/m #fluff #mine

[like-a-bag-of-potatoes]

Another Day On The Job

A/N: I just had this Idea in my head and I had to write it. I know I'm not the best at doing one-shots or imagines or whatever you wanna call this, but I made one :) No harm is meant towards Jensen and his family. Feedback is always appreciated. Thank you to bu beta @thorne93.

Characters: Reader x Jensen, Jared.

Warnings: None really.. Fluff.

Wordcount: 2483

 Imagine taking care of Jensen when he’s sick.

 *Not my GIF*

You were truly living the dream. Four months ago you had started to work for the TV show, Supernatural, as Jensen Ackles’ personal assistant, and you loved every second of it. Of course the hours were long and there was a lot of down time, but it was also exciting and busy. Your job was mostly to get Jensen from A to B when he was filming, bring him coffee, keep track of his engagements… that sort of thing, but you loved it. Added bonus was that you got to spend a lot of time with him, which was great considering the ginormous crush you had on the guy.

You had had a few other PS jobs in the past on different shows and one movie, but this was a completely different experience altogether. Everyone was so nice and including, even Jared and Jensen who were the leads of the show made sure to make everyone welcome.

It was a beautiful, sunny morning in Vancouver and you were making your way to Jensen's trailer to get him up and ready for makeup, a large coffee in one hand and today’s schedule in the other. Waking Jensen up in the morning wasn't one of your regular tasks, but he had been working until dawn and he had asked you to come wake him up if he didn't meet you at the coffee stand by 7am. So that's what you did. You put the clipboard between your legs to free up your hand so you could knock on his door.

“Jensen? Are you up yet?” you said in a loud voice.

“Yeah, coming,” he answered. You heard him move about in there for a second before he opened the door. “Good morning,” he said with a smile.

“Good mo… are you okay? You don't look too good,” you stated. He was pale and his eyes had dark circles around them, and he looked exhausted.

“Gee, thanks,” he huffed. “I'm just tired. That for me?” he asked, pointing to the coffee.

You handed him the cup and walked with him to the makeup trailer. While he was inside, getting his Dean on, you sat down to start organizing your day. You usually did that the night before, but since filming had ran so late yesterday, you hadn't had the energy to do it.

“Good morning, (YN),” Jared said cheerily. You didn't look up at him, instead you held up a finger, signaling him to give you a second while you continued to write down some notes before you forgot them. “What could possibly be more important than me?” he asked in mock offense.

“Just my job,” you teased. “Good morning, Jared,” you said with an exaggerated smile.

“There you go,” he said with a light chuckle. “What are you working on?”

“Just today’s agenda.”

“What? You didn't do that last night? How in the world are you going to get through the day?” He gasped dramatically, putting his hand on his chest. Jared always teased you for how organized you where, not that it bothered you, you had to be organized to be able to do this job, and you did it well.

“I have no idea,” you joked. “Jensen's been in there for ten minutes now, so I guess they’re ready for you soon.”

“Thank you,” Jared said kindly. “See you later.”

“Later.”

Jared’s schedule wasn't really your job, but mostly his and Jensen's were pretty much the same, besides, Jared’s PA had just quit and they were still looking for a replacement so you figured you could pick up some slack, do your part to make his day a little easier.

You sat outside the trailer and waited until Jensen was finished.

“I'm good to go,” he said as he joined you outside.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” you said, concern on your face.

“I'm sure, (YN). I guess I'm just getting too old to pull an all nighter,” he joked. He really appreciated that you were looking out for him though.

“Can I get you anything? Food? Drink? Something?”

Jensen placed his hands on your shoulders and looked you deep in the eyes. “I'm alright for now, but I promise I'll let you know if I need anything,” he said, smiling widely. You weren't exactly sure what it was he had said, but his eyes was extraordinarily green today, and when he smiled they crinkled in the corners and that just made you all gooey on the inside.

“Set,” you exclaimed, pulling yourself from the trace you found yourself in.

You followed Jensen to the set, answering some emails and such while he did his scenes. About an hour later you went to get everyone some coffee, knowing that if they didn't have a steady caffeine flow in their system, nothing would get done. You sat back down and decided to pay attention to the scene they were filming. It was such a pleasure to watch Jensen work, how he went from a complete goofball to an utter professional in the blink of an eye. Jared was just the same, they were both amazing at their jobs.

As the hours went by, Jensen looked paler and paler. He was having problems concentrating, he kept missing his cue and messing up his lines, and eventually he was so annoyed with himself that he asked for a break, which he got.

He came over to you, looking like a wounded puppy, asking you could get him some water. You noticed that his hands were shaking and there was drops of sweat forming on his face. Before you could stop to think you had placed your hand on his forehead. “God, you’re burning up,” you said, furrowing your brows. “You want to go lay down for a little while?” Jensen nodded.

You went to talk to the director, told them Jensen had a fever and asked if he could have a break, which they agreed to, since everyone could tell he wasn't doing well.

“We have to get you into some dry clothes,” you said as you got back to his trailer. “You get out of those, and I'll get you a towel and some dry ones.” He had sweated through his t-shirt and you really didn't want him to go to bed all soaked.

“You would like that, wouldn't you,” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Ackles. I'm trying to get you healthy here.”

You handed him some new clothes, popping into the bathroom to find a towel, and to avoid staring at him as he changed. You had to remind yourself that even though Jensen might treat you as a friend, he was still your boss. You worked for him. Something that made this crush you had on him even more inappropriate.

Jensen was under the covers when you came back into the room, you handed him the towel and then went to get him some water and meds. If you hadn't been so adamant to avoid eye contact with him, you might have seen how his eyes followed your every move, how a small smile splayed on his lips as he watched you take care of him.

“Here’s some water and ibuprofen, that should get your fever down. And you have your phone here, so you can call me when you wake up,” you said, a warm smile on your face.

“No. Please stay. You know, in case it's really serious and I die,” Jensen joked, he didn't want you to go. He grabbed your hand ad pulled it so you lost balance, landing on your ass at the edge of his bed.

“I'm pretty sure you’re not gonna die, but I'll stay,” you said, like you would ever be able to say no to him. “But then you have to promise me you'll go to sleep.”

“I love it when you’re bossy,” he teased.

“Go to bed,” you said in a strict voice. “And go to sleep.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Jensen turned around and hugged his blanket tightly around himself as you sat on the edge of his bed, trying to get some more work done. It was difficult to concentrate on your work, mostly because your eyes kept being drawn towards the subtle freckles that dusted his nose. You don't know how long you sat there and just looked at him, but after a while you decided to move to the couch, maybe you could get some work done if you couldn't actually see him.

An hour or so later you went to check up on him again, carefully placing your hand on his forehead to check his temperature. He was warmer now than he had been, despite the fact that he had taken some pills to get the fever down. His breath was also a little shallower and faster than it had been, so just to be on the safe side you decided to wake him up.

“Jensen?” you said softly, your hand still on his forehead. “Jensen!” you said a little louder when there was no response from him.

“Hmmm…” he hummed as he turned towards you.

“How are you feeling?”

“Not good. My head is killing me, I'm dizzy and nauseous, and I'm freezing.” Jensen wasn't one to complain at all, so you knew that if he admitted to not feeling well, he really wasn't feeling well.

“I think it's time to get you to a doctor,” you said. “Can you get up at all?”

“I think so, yes.” Jensen tried to sit up in bed, but when you saw him struggling, you took his hand and helped him up.

It took a little effort to get Jensen into Cliff’s car, but you were finally at the emergency room waiting for a doctor. Almost all color had drained from his face at this point, even his freckles had faded.

**

The doctor concluded that Jensen had caught the flu, wrote out a prescription for antibiotics and something to help keep his fever down, and you were now on your way back to Jensen's apartment. The doctor had also told him that he shouldn't be alone, just incase his fever spiked or he got worse during the night and somehow Jensen had convinced you to stay with him.

“I'm gonna go grab a shower,” Jensen said as the two of you entered his apartment. “Just make yourself at home.”

You took his meds from the little bag and placed them on his kitchen counter, getting a bottle of water ready and the pills he needed to take before bed. This was way out of your job description, but he had asked for your help and you weren't planning on leaving him all alone in his state. Then you called Jared, to let him know what was going on, and he would tell the rest of the crew that Jensen wouldn't be back in at least a couple of days.

Just as you hung up the phone, Jensen emerged from the bathroom, nothing but a towel tied around his waist. He looked… better than you had imagined, and you had imagined a lot. Your imagination could never do this justice. Your eyes traveled from his broad shoulders and down to his chiseled chest, from there they followed a stray drop of water down across his tight abs and to where it disappeared behind the towel.

“What did you say?” you questioned, trying to shake yourself out of the trance you were in.

“I didn't say anything,” Jensen chuckled.

“Oh.. well.. I was sure.. Never mind then,” you stammered, tripping over your words as Jensen let out a full hearted laugh. It was truly the most wonderful sound.

“I'm gonna get dressed, and then maybe we can watch a movie?” he asked.

Like you were gonna say no to him while he was half naked. You weren’t insane.

“Sure thing. You should probably eat something too. Want me to order a pizza or something?”

“Dinner and a movie. This is starting to sound like a date,” he teased.

“No.. no.. that's not..”

“I'm joking. And you look really cute when you’re embarrassed.”

You just stood there dumbfounded as he walked away. Did Jensen fucking Ackles just call you cute?

**

An hour later the two of you were on the couch, pizza on the table and a movie on the TV.

“Are you feeling any better?” you asked. He did look a lot better, a little more color in his cheeks.

“I am. I think I have a fever still, but not as bad as before.”

“That's good,” you said, smiling softly.

“Thank you for everything you have done today,” he offered.

“You don't have to thank me, I was just doing my job.”

“You have done a lot more than your job today,” he argued. He knew that nothing like this was in your job description, but you had still stayed with him all day to make sure he was okay.

You didn't answer, just shrugged it off. You always got so awkward whenever someone complimented you, and especially when it was someone you liked.

“I've kind of liked hanging out with you today, even though the circumstances could have been better. I like spending time with you,” Jensen said, looking into your eyes.

“That's the fever talking,” you joked.

“It's not.” Jensen leaned in closer to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Tell me if I'm crossing a line here,” he said softly before inching closer to you.

You sat there, completely paralyzed. Was he about to kiss you? No. You had a hard time believing that to be true. But before you could analyze the situation any further, his lips were on yours, soft and careful, for just the briefest of moments. He pulled away slightly, letting you decide if you wanted to continue the kiss or not. It took you a few seconds to decide, your mind a blur from what had just happened, but you decided to take the risk. What the hell, right? There was plenty of jobs in the world, but only one Jensen Ackles. You pressed your lips on his again, melting into him, your mouths molding together like it was what they were meant to do. It was unbelievable, far better than in your wildest imagination.

The two of you spent the night on Jensen's couch, talking, kissing, eventually falling asleep. If you factor out the trip to the emergency room, and the fact that Jensen was sick, it had most definitely been the best day of your life. You didn't know how this would all pan out, not with Jensen and not with your job, but that was a worry for another day. Right now you just wanted to enjoy the feel of his arms wrapped around you, and his lips softly against yours.    

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