#is the one that lands me in the hospital

[dirtbra1n]

Seigi Sunday the third—sunday in our Hearts ❤️

read the first and second here and here!

(one day late is nothing to me by now and time is what you make it. let’s all pretend together Take my hand,)

hi! merry christmas! decided on a whim I’d speedrun this one and by god am I going to try really really hard. (I fell asleep.) just how these things go. (noooo kidding) having read over the first two again I’m making the executive decision this holiday to use the more legible black-on-white reading mode. if it wasn’t apparent by my punctuality or lack thereof These are shaped in full by whim. and whimsy!

speaking of whimsy, how is seigi doing this lovely christmas evening and also perfectly average saturday morning :) ?

he’s doing just OK! 👍

more seigi under the cut

"Good morning. Is something the matter? You don't look well." "I went out drinking with my exam prep class yesterday..." "Did you shower when you got back?" "…I just fell asleep immediately." "I see." Richard stood up, took his wallet from his pocket, and handed me a 1,000 yen note. "There's a public shower, laundromat, and convenience store in front of Shimbashi Station. You have fifty minutes to take a shower, launder your clothing, and chew some mint gum."

It gave rank a whole new meaning. I mingled with the businessmen and homeless people as I shoved my head under the shower. I pulled my clothes out of the dryer and pulled them on, bought some gum at the convenience store, chewed it and spit it out into some paper before returning to the shop where I was surprised to find a customer.

seigi…… I . kinda can’t look at you right now CHANGE CLOTHES AT LEAST!!!!!!! AT LEAST CHANGE YOUR CLOTHES!!!!! YOU MIGHT AS WELL HAVE GOTTEN RUN OVER BY A CAR!!!!!!!!! SMELLY!!!!!!!!!

It was a man. "Wow, late to work, are we? If this were my store, you'd be chewed out." I threw a "hey" at the man who snarkily greeted me. He was wearing a wrinkled black suit with a wine-red collared shirt underneath. Richard, who was sitting across from him, checked his watch. It'd only been 48 minutes. I was safe, right? I was still safe, I made the baseball hand signal at him, and Richard asked me to make some tea. His tone sounded civil. I guess that meant I did make it. "Wow, no response? Where's the 'with pleasure!'?" "I know I've mentioned this before, but this is a jewelry shop." "Sorry, old habits." Speak of the devil. A real host actually had showed up at the shop. I brought out some royal milk tea with extra ice, and the customer said "thanks" with a wink. His hair faded from blond to brown, his lightly tanned skin looked a bit neglected, and he had a loud voice. He was probably in his late twenties. He introduced himself as Satoshi Takatsuki. It seemed a little plain for a working name, so maybe it was his real one. "So, I'm lookin' for a stone that'll make for a nice conversation piece with my clients. Girls love pretty things, right? Ideally something convenient to carry around. You know, I heard about this shop. You're pretty cheap, right?" "I have done favors for various customers of mine, yes." "Man, you sure talk like a real Japanese dude! Does one of your parents have some Japanese blood in 'em?" "Neither does, actually." "I bet you've got a hundred percent success rate with the ladies, don'tcha? Are you sure you're not in the wrong line of work?" "Sir, what would you like with your tea? We have both sweet and salty options." "I've got a sweet tooth. You charge extra for this?" "No, is basic hospitality..." "That's Ginza for ya! No one's gonna nickel-and-dime you here."

Wait. Then when was I going to tell her that I wanted to go out with her? I would chat with Tanimoto over text from time to time. Mostly about rocks. Well, pretty much only about rocks. She'd send me photos of specimens she was fond of or particularly unusual rock formations. Like the cliffs in Inubousaki with big round holes carved into them or large grey rocks lined up on the shore of Ireland. I'd never know about all these places all over the world if I hadn't met her.

you can put this in the comparison column for later. you’ll see

When Tanimoto got completely absorbed in the world of stones, she was less cute and more... passionate and dashing. And always replied to me really fast. But I would feel a little depressed when our conversations ended. At the end of our longer exchanges, she'd always add, "Let me see your sports car sometime." It was gradually turning into her regular sign-off. Even if it was just a mistake, the enthusiasm on display in my "got it!" made it difficult to correct, and I would always respond "eventually" like an idiot.

dingus.

I was profoundly jealous of our current customer, who wasn't at the mercy of love but could enjoy romance as a commercial endeavor. Mr. Takatsuki smiled at me. "What's wrong, kid? Love troubles?" "Wha—are you psychic or something?" "Men only look at hosts with one of two things in their eyes: disgust or jealousy. And men who are in love tend to fall into the latter camp. It only makes sense." "Well, this is embarrassing. You hosts really are incredible." "That kind of honesty is a talent, too. I think you'd make an excellent host."

INCREDIBLY DANGEROUS THING TO ENCOURAGE HIM ON. really really right though. super endearing quality of his. my stupid best friend in the entire world seigi who is so so honest. and stupid

"Apologies for the wait." Richard set a black velvet box on the table. It was about the size of a large chocolate box, and I'd taken to calling it the box of wonders. It was just like a regular jewelry box, with the top connected to the base by a hinge. It looked kind of like an alligator when the lid was open. Mr. Takatsuki's eyes went wide when the lid slowly opened. Pretty much everyone who came into the shop had the same reaction. Gems were laid out in four rows on black cushions. They weren't part of any jewelry—just plain stones. Red, green, purple, pink, every color you could imagine. These multicolored gems were like a preemptive strike. Mr. Takatsuki smiled for a moment before letting out a deep sigh. "I'm kinda speechless! There must be a ton of people who'd kill for an opportunity to see stones like this just once in their lives. I'm absolutely tellin' my guys about this." "That would be most appreciated."

"You really have a head for business," Mr. Takatsuki said with a smile, leaning over the box. "Every gem conceals a rich story of its own, so regardless of which you choose, you won't find yourself wanting for conversation." "A rich story, huh? Honestly, to me they're all just red stones, yellow stones, or purple stones. "My customers who find all their options equally attractive tend to have a rather broad and clear aesthetic sense. Please, try picking them up and taking a closer look." “...I really think you're in the wrong line of work." Richard's cool and collected expression didn't falter at all. Which just made me get annoyed on his behalf. Where did this guy get off, coming into someone's place of business and telling them "you're in the wrong line of work"? Mr. Takatsuki shrugged and reached for a random stone, like the option had just occurred to him. "What's this red one? It's not a ruby, is it?" "That would be a garnet. You have excellent taste, Mr. Takatsuki." "Nah, I just saw rubies at another shop. Ruby red is a lot brighter. What's this green one?" "This may come as a surprise, but that is also garnet." "They're the same thing?" Mr. Takatsuki asked, pointing at the two stones. Richard nodded. "Red garnets were extremely popular in 19th century Europe, which is why their Japanese name, zakuroishi or pomegranate stone, references the color red. However, garnets are not exclusively red in color. This green stone, demantoid garnet, is from Russia. The blue garnet you may be familiar with from a story featuring a certain famous detective, however, is pure fiction. Garnets come in nearly every color with the exception of blue." “...Um, I didn't catch the name." "Of the green stone? Demantoid garnet." "No, yours, Mr. Shopkeep." There was a brief pause, but Richard's courteous smile remained untarnished. "My apologies. My name is Richard Ranasinghe de Vulpian. Garnet happens to be the birthstone for January—do you have any interest in garnet, Mr. Takatsuki?" "Let me be real with you, Richard. Have you ever considered a change of career?" "Excuse me, sir, would you care for a dessert? We have soft adzuki jelly if you're interested." "Oh, come on kid, read the room. I'm trying to scout your boss here." And that's why I'm trying to help him out, I frowned very pointedly so only Richard would see. My boss, whose calm smile never faltered, closed his eyes and bowed. "Mr. Takatsuki, you have your calling just as I have mine." "The night life is so brilliant though. If you like gemstones, I'm sure you'll take a shine to it. Roppongi's rough these days. All an average-looking foreign host has to do is speak a little Japanese, and he's raking in millions a night." "The brilliance of a human life lasts but a hundred years, but this garnet right here was born from the Earth a hundred million years ago. Gems have long lifetimes, yet they generously accompany us for the duration of ours." "Now that's what I'm talking about! That's the kind of host I want in my establishment!" Mr. Takatsuki looked at me again. I knew what he was trying to say, but at the rate things were going, all of Richard's efforts to make a sale were going to be in vain. I flashed him a slightly displeased face, and Mr. Takatsuki smiled a glorious smile at Richard. It made him look young, but this was his manager side, not his host side, I supposed.

okay. Yeah sure. alright. you’re a sick sick man. but Whateve No actually Can we talk about this

“...That would be an amethyst. Crystalline quartz." "Amethyst! Even I know what that one is! It sure is pretty." "Please feel free to pick it up and take a closer look." Mr. Takatsuki said, "Don't mind if I do," and picked up the amethyst with his fingertips. It was about as big as my pinky nail—probably double the size of my pink sapphire. Richard mentioned that you could view the stone from more angles if you set it between two fingers on top of your hand. He demonstrated, setting the stone in between his pointer and middle fingers before placing it on Mr. Takatsuki's hand in the same fashion. Mr. Takatsuki finally smiled. "You sure have beautiful fingers. Is there some kind of story behind amethysts?" "Excellent question. Humans' relationship with amethysts goes back a very long time. If we reach back beyond the realm of written history, we find amethysts in grave goods at prehistoric sites, and we have records of the nobility in ancient Egypt using them as stamps on documents. It's not nearly as hard a stone as diamond, ruby, or sapphire, so they found more uses in day-to-day life. It's the birthstone for February and is said to help cultivate an open heart, love, and intuition." "Where do you learn all that stuff? Is there a school or something?" "I learn every day. In the course of my work, I have many opportunities to acquire new information, and I count among my customers some specialists who are far more knowledgeable than I." "Your world sure is fascinating. Just makes me want to hire you as a host even more. So, is it expensive?" The moment Richard said the price was 5,000 yen, both Mr. Takatsuki and I made a weird face. "Huh? Are you sure that's not off by a zero?" "The price is neither 500 yen, nor 50,000 yen. The prices of all goods and services, not limited to gemstones, are determined by the balance of supply and demand. And as the supply of amethysts is most steady and abundant, it is possible to acquire rather high-quality stones for a relatively low price. This particular stone came from Brazil, the world's foremost producer of amethyst, though they were commonly produced in Japan just a few decades ago—stones from Yamanashi are quite famous." Mr. Takatsuki looked vaguely frustrated, saying that prefecture is known for its grapes. Richard smiled. "Is it not a remarkable twist of fate that beautiful gem-like fruits are grown on the same land beautiful gemstones were mined from?" "Don't you play favorites! Yamanashi's not the only place that makes good grapes. I mean, they're good, but... this is getting off topic. Please tell me more about the stone." Richard bowed and began speaking eloquently again, almost like a talking doll. The scientific name for the stone was quartz. I supposed it was kind of like how ruby and sapphire are both corundum. There were all sorts of varieties of the mineral—citrine, smoky quartz, rose quartz, and so on—but they were all chemically almost identical and were all about the same hardness. A lot of mineral enthusiasts collected it. Excessive exposure to sunlight could cause the color to fade, so care had to be taken when storing them. In Europe in the Middle Ages, amethysts were prized by high-ranking members of the Christian clergy and treasured as spiritual artifacts. In the realm of fortune-telling, they were used as pendulums for dousing. And so on and so forth. Richard talked about stones seemingly forever. If you told him to talk, he could probably go on for an entire day. If you closed your eyes and listened, you'd never know it wasn't a Japanese person talking. His voice was neither too high, nor too low, and it had a mysterious warmth to it—like someone holding you tight. If I were Mr. Takatsuki, I'd ask him to stop, or apologize and leave. Me though, I could never do it. It'd be like being in the same cage as a ferocious beast and trying to force it to do tricks. Terrifying.

you’re sick. You are so sick

While I was refreshing their tea, I stole a glance at Mr. Takatsuki's expression, thinking it was getting about time for him to get going. But he was utterly bewitched by Richard—he wouldn't even look at me. His enthusiasm was tremendous. "Your tank empty yet? Or can you keep going?" "Hm, Mr. Takatsuki, you wouldn't happen to know the origin of the name 'amethyst,' would you?" "I wish I could respond to that with an, ‘of course I do,’ but I'm not so lucky this time. What language is it? English?" "Greek, actually. 'Amethystos,' meaning 'to not become intoxicated by alcohol.'" It felt like the atmosphere in the shop suddenly changed in that instant. Mr. Takatsuki's expression grew a bit more serious. Richard seemed to notice. "Oh, so it's a gemstone that prevents drunkenness? Like a healing crystal?" "It's an old legend. This stone has a beautiful purple color, so perhaps that's why it became associated with wine. It is said that Bacchus, the god of wine, offers his divine protection to owners of this stone." "'To not become intoxicated,' 'to not become intoxicated,’ huh? ...Yeah, I like it." He sounded unnatural and listless as he added excuse upon excuse. I was sure he was going to buy it. He went down the line, looking at the other stones, but ultimately settled on the amethyst, just like I expected. "Do you just sell it like that? Or can I have it set?" "You mean this amethyst? I can have it set in a piece of your choosing—a ring, a tiepin, bracelet, or whatever else you might like. Of course, the cost and timeframe will vary, depending on exactly what you choose. I can have a designer sketch something up for you as well." "Yeah, I don't need anything that fancy. You've gotta have like a catalog I can pick from or something. That's good enough for me. Probably shouldn't go for a tiepin, it'd be hard to tell if I dropped it or something. What would be fastest? A necklace would be fine, too." "If you aren't set on this particular stone, I do have finished amethyst accessories in stock." "I like your gumption. Lemme see what you've got then." It was only another fifteen minutes after Richard went into the back room to replace the contents of the box of wonders that Mr. Takatsuki left the shop. Richard had three amethyst pendants to choose from, and Mr. Takatsuki selected the largest one. The stone was at least the size of my thumbnail and cut into a square with rounded corners. Its edges were wrapped in gold. It was a pure purple, like a morning glory, and the back was rounded off so as to not scratch the wearer's skin when worn. The chain was the same gold as the wrapping around the stone. It was rather delicate, as it had been designed as a piece for a woman, but when Mr. Takatsuki put it on, you could just about smell the aroma of nightlife wafting off it. The price: 15,000 yen. "It's almost like a toy," Mr. Takatsuki said with a smile. He left the shop in high spirits, oblong jewelry box with amethyst pendant inside in hand. He couldn't resist asking Richard to think his offer over before he left though. "...Think he was drunk?" "I'm quite sure he was sober. That was all an act." "Do you think he'll return it later?" "He won't. He appeared to be satisfied with his purchase."

I knew about the camera at the entrance, but I guessed there were cameras in the shop proper, too. But there were only valuables in the store when Richard was here, so the real concern was less burglars and more customers with ill intent.

I've always had exceedingly average looks, so I've never felt especially flattered by compliments on my appearance or particularly upset by insults to it, either. That said, I didn't think there were all that many men who were routinely scrutinized for their appearance, unless they're on Richard's level. The place my mother worked at before her current job at the hospital had a serious sexual harassment problem, and she'd often complain over a beer that she wasn't dressing herself for their sake. Richard had the same feeling about him now. Beauty wasn't something people engaged with to please strangers. People were welcome to appreciate what they would, but they should know it didn't give them the right to treat people however they wanted. "Um, so… I swear I don't mean anything weird by this, like, seriously, I don't mean it like you might think, but—" "Don't you think that excessively long and circuitous preambles are rather rude, too?" "I just wondered if you feel like people telling you you're handsome and beautiful is kinda... insulting. Sorry," I added, and Richard made a strange face. After a moment, he smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was something eerily childlike about his expression. "Do you think telling someone with blond hair that they have blond hair is some kind of insult?"

let’s circle back to the narcissism thing from last chapter actually

"You know, I really don't love it when you act so full of yourself! Agh, I put my foot in my mouth said ‘love’ again!" "Just stop talking for a moment. I know what you meant. Do not worry about it," Richard repeated emphatically. He returned the products to the safe and took a sip of the fresh milk tea I'd made when he came back. I never thought of myself as someone who would perpetrate sexual harassment, but I might've been a lot more insensitive than I realized. At this rate, I just knew I'm going to say something stupid to Tanimoto and ruin everything. I've gotta be better. Richard sat alone in the lounge, eating the leftover adzuki jelly. It tasted just like red bean paste, but it was clear and there were goldfish—both common and fancy ones—swimming in the sweet, delicate substance. A little while ago, I asked him if he thought Japanese confections paired well with milk tea, and he glared at me, saying I was belittling royal milk tea. It was starting to seem more like a religious belief than mere opinion. Richard called my name, as though he noticed I'd been staring at him. He was still looking at the dessert as he spoke. "What? If you tell me not to look at you, I won't."

"The only relationship between you and I is that of employer and employee. Praising my appearance won't make me any more inclined to raise your wages, and I'm sure you're aware of that. Praise with ulterior motives is just sycophantic bootlicking. That said, earnest, spontaneous words of praise are an exclamation of sorts, nothing more and nothing less. The natural beauty of gemstones—even of those with little financial value—can soothe the hearts of people and grant them strength to keep going. I believe that is the true value of beauty." "I think I get what you're saying. That's kind of how I feel whenever I look at you." "Then perhaps it would be fair to say that your ‘you're beautiful’ comments are essentially the equivalent of ‘I'm in a good mood because the weather is so lovely today.’ They do not bother me." "Thank you. Well, if I do say something like that again by accident, I would really appreciate it if you just brushed it off." I forced a smile, and Richard frowned. What did I do this time? "...While it may not bother me, surely you have invited your fair share of unfortunate misunderstandings by making rash comments without much thought?"

maybe I shouldn’t have said that ALL-TIMER

I began wiping down the table, and Richard returned with a sullen look on his face. He looked a little red, even.

me when I lie This is my favorite bit ever by the way. richard you are so so so sick. and you brought this on yourself :)

Refusing to look me in the eye, my boss sat back down in one of the lounge chairs by the window and clasped his hands. He looked like something was bothering him, and it didn't seem like a sudden stomachache. The whole thing was very unusual. Richard silently stared out the window for a bit before abruptly mumbling, “...I wonder if he really deserved to own that amethyst." "What?" What was he going on about? Didn't he land the sale he was working on that whole time? Richard hung his head, burying it in his clasped hands. "I believe that every stone deserves to end up in the hands of someone who understands its true beauty and will treasure it—such would be a happy ending for both parties. But it makes me wonder... How should I put this... Yes, perhaps I, too, have acted rashly." "You mean you wish you hadn't sold it to him?" "Rather that I wonder if selling it to him was the right decision." There's a difference? Richard was being weird. I'd never seen him question a sale like that before. I know he said he was used to it, but after the way that customer treated him, maybe it put him in a bad mood. No, he didn't really seem irritated. The beautiful jewelry store owner had a weary expression on his face, like he was worried it might rain tomorrow. "Well, he bought it because he wanted it. Gemstones are products, after all. And if he paid the price you set, he must have felt that amethyst was worth at least that much. I don't see the issue." "I don't think that's the whole story. I think the thing he was most taken with wasn't the stone at all." "...But you?" My boss scowled at me, silently ordering me to be quiet. If I was wrong, I wondered what he was getting at? His seemingly endless well of sales talk? Or the relaxing atmosphere of the shop itself? Richard seemed deeply distressed by the whole thing, but nothing was making sense to me. Mr. Takatsuki didn't seem like the kind of person who particularly needed our concern. He liked his job, and sure, he was a little overbearing at times, but he seemed like a fun guy. He definitely came off as a bit impulsive, but there were tons of guys like that at my school, who ran on nothing but vibes and passion.

go figure that seigi’s already coming around on him. the world's sweetest person competition hates to see him coming

"I don't really think you have anything to worry about, but... I think every person who buys gems has their own reasons for doing it and their own reasons for liking them. It probably just put him in a good mood when he put that beautiful stone on, and he'll get over not being able to hire you." "There's only so much a good mood can do. Working in that sort of industry is rough, no matter what country you're in. I don't believe he really meant what he said. The disparity between his words and his actions suggests some kind of cognitive dissonance." "You're reading too much into it. I don't think he was thinking that deeply about anything he said. I thought you said you were used to people making passes at you? Don't worry about it so much." "That's not what I mean. Those who grow intoxicated with beauty far beyond their means are destined to fall to ruin." "Intoxicated with beauty" and "destined to fall to ruin" would probably rank pretty high up there if there were a "phrases I'd love to say some day" ranking. What is he even talking about?

SEIGI YOU ARE SOOOO LAME……. why does this exchange read so shakespearean to me also

I looked at Richard bashfully and explained that I had a crush on this girl and she was my friend at school who loved rocks and was super cute. I explained that, long story short, someone told her that they'd seen me in the Jaguar. The porcelain-faced beauty stared at me as he jabbed his fork into the remaining goldfish jelly, slicing the decorative fish clear in half. Please, I'm begging you, just get it over with. "So, uh, I was wondering... I have my driver's license. I drive my mom's car all the time, and I've never been in an accident or pulled over." "That's an impressive record for someone who seems like he'd be constantly distracted behind the wheel. Fascinating story."

SOOOOO ANNOYING!!!!!!!!!!

"Don't assume the worst about me! I believe in safety first. I'm especially careful to check for children or elderly pedestrians, I yield to vehicles behind me, and I'll even drive below the speed limit just in case something happens. I don't get mad or panic if I hear someone honk at me from behind, either." I'd be in trouble if someone asked me to floor it, but I was confident in my safe driving skills. I was such a safe driver that when I drove my mom to work when she had a cold, she praised me saying, "I think you drove almost too safe." For some reason, she didn't let me drive very much after that, though. Richard smiled sweetly. He was like a jewel sitting in direct sunlight. I got my hopes up for a positive response. "They're about five million used, from what I understand." "What?" "Jaguars. I hope the drive is worth it." Um, that's not what I meant. I was hoping you'd understand that I was asking to borrow yours—is what I nearly said before I gave up. Richard skewered both pieces of the jelly with his fork and ate them in one bite. How brutal. This was bad. He had a terrifying aura about him. He had this look in his eyes like if I opened my mouth now, he'd say he'd kill me. Richard probably hated talking about personal stuff during work. I guess I should have known after how he reacted to me showing up hungover. "My mind is exhausted from speaking so much of my non-native language. Tea." "Yessir, I'll be right back." "But first, where's my change?" "...It was only 40 yen." "Change."

wrote here ENFADOSO!!!!! you are an ANNOYING MAN!!!!!!!! and it's . sooo fucking funny. bitch4bitch I can't take you two ANYWHERE

I guess no matter how casual the workplace, bosses are still bosses and employees are still employees. I mean, this wasn't a host club, and I'd never been chewed out by my boss, but I supposed expecting him to be so lenient that I could get away with not following instructions was out of the question. I had to get my act together.

- things to say when you will not be getting your act together

The following Friday, I was dragged along to go drinking with some college friends. We ended up in the same bar in Roppongi as last week. One of the older guys in my prep class was very eager to invite me. I thought the professor would be coming, but that wasn't the case at all—even the guy who invited me ended up not being able to make it. It ended up being a peculiar party made up of just six second year students. There were no girls in the class to begin with, so there wasn't even that to look forward to. It was a trendy bar, but not the kind of place a bunch of single guys could really relax. The interior design was so overdone, all form over function. The prices were middling, and there wasn't much in the way of food. After two hours of partying, things were starting to drag. "That reminds me, Seigi, you quit your weekend shifts. I hardly see you at all these days, man." "Yeah, I started another part-time job." "What kind of job?" I knew if I answered honestly, saying I worked at a jewelry store mostly serving tea, it would turn into a Q&A session since everyone was bored and didn't have anything else to talk about. What should I say instead, though? That I was handing out flyers? No, that wouldn't be believable. I'd be getting paid more working the night shift than that. "Uh, um… I'm in the hospitality industry."

nice answer that doesn’t invite questions, dummy

"Oh, are we doing twenty questions? Are you a host?" "Seriously?! How much does it pay? What's the place like?" "No hostesses there? Are there any hotties? Like among your customers?" "You're gonna destroy your liver working a job like that. That shit is seriously rough." I guess the Q&A session was unavoidable after all. I was an idiot for trying to lie about it. Convincing them they were wrong was going to be a pain. I visualized the fictitious club. The owner was a foreigner, and I served drinks. We got a lot of customers from overseas and the prices were reasonable. Honestly, it wasn't that far off the mark. I mostly told them the truth—other than the fact that it was a jewelry shop—and my drunk classmates listened intently. I got a little carried away and started speaking triumphantly about how attractive my boss was—the blond-haired blue-eyed polyglot who was possessed of such overwhelming beauty that it was hard to believe that such a living creature even existed. The atmosphere changed when I got to that topic. They were all staring at me for some reason. "...So you're, like, alone with this boss of yours in the shop?" "Whoa, that's sick. What do you two get up to when there are no customers around?" "What do you mean, what do we get up to? I make drinks, clean, and run errands. Stuff like that." When they asked me how I'd gotten the job, I told them that I'd saved my now boss from some drunks on the street one night. The moment I mentioned that, the dull atmosphere did a total 180. My drunk classmates openly scowled at me and started hurling insults my way. "Dang, dude, you really... Nah, no way." "What? I don't understand." “It’s like she got handed to you on a silver platter. Let me switch places with you!” "Just hurry up and get dumped and have your dreams crushed so you can go cry alone in your room." "Wait, wait, wait, wait!" For some reason they didn't believe me when I clarified that my boss was a man. It was so unfair. I wasn't lying. They kept insisting that because I said he was attractive, I must have feelings for him. It made no sense. Why did I have to be in love with someone just because I thought they're beautiful?

seigi you are truly one of a kind. god bless. also I’m sure a number of you out there can make something of this if you put your mind to it

"I mean it's not like there's just one type of beauty! It's like Mt. Fuji on New Year's Day, or the sun setting over the horizon, that kind of beauty! It's like one of those things accidentally took human form by some twist of fate. Dating isn't even a question for the kind of thing I'm talking about." "What the hell is a hottie like Mt. Fuji? You're not making any sense." "What, is your boss some kind of literal angel?" "Yeah right."

closest they got and they call it off. you guys are hopeless By the way women aren’t objects guys. not cool.

The whole thing was torture, but I guessed I got what I deserved for making up an elaborate story when I wasn't a good liar to begin with. I just stopped caring, cut out early, and went home. My friend, Shimomura, said he'd walk me to the station. I tried to lose him when we left the club, but he stopped me with an "um, so..." and an awkward look on his face. "I know you probably don't know this, but the guy from our cram class who invited us here owns this club." "What?" "He wanted to be his own boss, so he got into the food services industry, but it's still not turning a profit. Seems like he's friends with the third years, so he's been using us as fodder." Now it all made sense. That was why he specifically took us to Roppongi, of all places. There was supposedly a pretty strong business focus in that prep class, so it made sense that the older students might be starting up on their own. He must've been losing money. I told him I didn't know and thanked him, and Shimomura gave a strained smile. "You know, I think I kinda get what you were talking about earlier. I know it's dumb, but I love getting to see Tokyo Tower out the window of the Yamanote Line so much I could just die. The view from around Hamamatsucho Station is the best—it's that angle right across from the JOQR building. You only get to see it for the second because the train's moving, but it's incredible around sunset. Just a taste of that view recharges my batteries even when I'm exhausted. I think that's the kind of beauty you were talking about, right?"

SHIMOMURA ❤️ OUR FRIEND SHIMOMURA ❤️

"Yes. Yes, that's what I was talking about. That's exactly what I was talking about." I felt like my head might come off from nodding so much. Shimomura's face crumpled into a smile that seemed like a 50/50 mixture of happiness and discomfort. "That sorta thing is so hard to talk about." "…I wish you could've said that back at the club. Also, there's nothing dumb about it." "You think so? I took a girl on the train at my favorite time during a first date and told her to look when we got to the spot, but it just confused her. Just a 'Huh? What?' and that was it. I guess not everyone has the same idea of what's beautiful." "Well, I'm one hundred percent positive you'd be bowled over if you met my boss. I guarantee it." "I'm just glad you're happy."

"Not going home yet?" "I'll hang out until the last train. I don't have any reason to go home really. See ya." The night had ended without me clearing up much of anything with the guys, but I thought I got through to Shimomura and that was good enough for me. I knew exactly what he meant when he said that not everyone had the same idea of what was beautiful. There were as many models of beauty as there were people in the world. There was nothing you could be entirely certain that every single person would find "beautiful." At least, that made sense to me. Though I wasn't sure I'd make the leap from that to the idea that you think something's beautiful just because of love. I didn't think love and beauty were the same at all. Sure, there could be things you loved because they're beautiful and things you thought were beautiful because you loved them, but I didn't think they were the same. [...]

this is a gun I'm realizing. I'll just take the bullet wound for now so we can keep it moving

[...] If I was going to take a stance on anything from now on, it's that. My feelings for Tanimoto were wholly unique. I couldn't compare them to my feelings for anyone or anything else. I wondered when I'd be able to muster the courage to tell her I was in love with her and wanted to go out with her? Maybe she'd tell me she loved me, too, with that adorable smile on her face. Well, I shouldn't get ahead of myself. I had to deal with the sports car thing first. What was I supposed to do? I wished I could find a clever way to tell her I didn't actually own the car without disappointing her. I wanted to find a way to make a grand comeback and turn my mistake into an opportunity. The voice in the back of my mind betrayed me though, vividly reminding me that it wouldn't work and that I should just give up already. I guessed people kind of got drunk on love and flip-flopped between visions of heaven and hell. My thoughts kept racing to either extreme. What if it made her hate me and she wouldn’t text me anymore, let alone talk to me? No, I just needed a good opportunity to take her on a rock-themed date or something. But what kind of date would that even be? Going out somewhere with hammers to mine rocks?

My more immediate concern was that I still couldn't move my leg, buried in trash bags. They seemed suspiciously heavy. I strained my eyes in the dark to see what it was. In the pile of trash beneath my feet, atop the transparent bags of trash, was... ...a person. "Wah!" They'd fallen over, splayed out flat on their face. And they weren't moving. Surely, they were just asleep, right? Just in case, I timidly touched the person's throat with my hand and felt a pulse. But they were very warm. "Are you okay? I can call an ambulance," I said loudly, but their response was slow. The person just groaned. They were wearing a grey button-down shirt and a vest made of a shiny black material. And they stank of booze. "Do you remember your name? How old are you?" “...Satoshiii Takatsuki. I'm twenty-seveeeen." Satoshi Takatsuki? Wait. That Satoshi Takatsuki? His body slid off the pile of trash bags and did a half tumble on his way down, landing on his butt as he hit the ground. He was positioned like an awkwardly sat up teddy bear, his face was red, and he was barely conscious. I lifted up his chin a bit to get a better look at his face. He was burning up. It was dark, so I could barely make out his features, but I knew this wasn't good. I used the telephone pole to confirm the street we were on, called an ambulance, and ran to the red-light district. I feel like this has been a recurring theme in my life lately. I asked the women for help with someone who'd passed out. They reacted quickly, like this was a common occurrence for them. Three people from separate shops came to help, but none of them knew who he was or where he worked. I told them his name was Takatsuki, but it didn't help. Before long, one of them headed back to their shop and returned with a pitcher full of water. Sirens and flashing lights approached while he was still vaguely conscious. Mr. Takatsuki groaned, and his head flopped over. I noticed something glittering around his neck. It was a gemstone. It was an amethyst pendant set in gold and dangling off a delicate golden chain. Two helmet-wearing EMTs came out of the ambulance, asking if anyone knew the man. It was becoming a bit of a scene, and people in suits and dresses started emerging from the other shops. I timidly responded. "…His name is Satoshi Takatsuki, and he says he's 27 years old." One of the EMTs kept calling his name. I looked around, but no one else responded. Even when another call went out for anyone that might know him, people just exchanged confused glances amongst themselves. I had an awful feeling about letting them take him off to the hospital alone. "I'll go with you." "What's your relation to the man?" “...He's one of our clients." "Are you sure you want to do this?" I nodded. I wasn't lying, either. I'd gotten a good look at his face when they laid him out on the stretcher. It really was him. His arms and legs flapped about, and he began shouting the name "Nozomi" over and over. I sent off a text just before I got into the ambulance. It was nearly midnight, but I figured he'd still be up. My boss, that was.

seeeeiiiiiigiiiiiiiiiiii…………….. you're too good....... and awfully confident about richard here. What would you do if he actually kept regular hours

The sliding door opened up, revealing a four-bed room. The morning light was blinding as it poured in through the windows. White frame beds sat atop the featureless cream floor. Only one of the four beds was occupied, by a tan man in hospital pajamas. "Hey." I gave a cheerful greeting, and Satoshi opened his eyes before crumpling back into bed, bitter expression on his face. "Oh, it's you... Um, what was your name again?" "Seigi Nakata. You really gave me a scare last night. Are you okay now?" "Well, as you can see, I'm not dead. When I woke up, they told me a young man who described me as a 'customer' came with me and waited until I was out of the woods. I couldn't figure out what shop it coulda been for the life of me... Um... What the hell were you doin' out there anyway? Also, it's Saturday, isn't it? Shouldn't you be working in Ginza right now?" "My boss let me come in late today. Trust me, I'm more shocked about that than anyone." "...You know, I never wanted to be the kind of old man who makes kids take care of him."

WHO SAID YOU’RE OLD!!!!!!!! sweet thing to say though, Averagely Aged Man

I sat down next to his bed, and Satoshi gave a defeated shrug. "You probably figured it out already, but I'm not actually a host." Satoshi began to tell his story in bits and pieces. His amethyst pendant was strewn on the table next to a cup of water. It looked much duller than it had when it was back at the shop. But maybe it was just the hospital's fluorescent lighting not doing it any favors. Satoshi explained that he was a bartender at a club in Roppongi. It was primarily a hostess club, not a host club. He said he didn't have a particularly high tolerance for alcohol, "just an average one." Two glasses of wine would have him dizzy and forgetting things, almost like he'd been drugged. […]

categorically Not an average tolerance for alcohol but sure

[…] But despite that, it was a point of pride for him that he had a very thorough understanding of the flavor of each alcohol. His family ran a vineyard in the mountains of Nagano. He described it as "painfully out in the boonies," in a hushed, embarrassed voice.

Nozomi was more of the bubbly, cutesy type of hostess. She overflowed with powerful customer service energy. She was the type of person who couldn't say "no" when everyone was having fun. She could never bring herself to pressure clients into drinking themselves into oblivion, so she'd offer to drink for them. As a result, despite being two years younger than Satoshi, her gamma-glutamyl transferase levels were already in dangerous territory. "Gamma… what?" "Glutamyl transferase." "I'm surprised you can remember that." "Of course I can, it's about Nozomi," Satoshi said like it was a given. It sounded as though she was like family to him already. "It's not like you can't make money if you don't drink like that, but she likes having fun with her customers, and she can't say no to their suggestions. I did tell her to just stop drinking, for the record." "Guess that didn't really work though, huh?" "You can't survive in the business if you don't drink at all. Honestly, if I really wanted to stop her, I'd have to get her to quit her job. But we're barely scraping by with both our earnings right now. I know tons of kids your age who want to work part-time in the biz, but it's really not a great line of work. Your liver can't hold out forever." "But when you came to our shop, you were putting on this whole influential host act." “……” He groaned and put his head in his hands. "Are you okay?" “…Nozomi's gotten obsessed with a host lately. That's where all her money's going—to supporting him." I let out a little "huh?" and Satoshi gave me a dubious look. The tone of his grumbling made it sound like it was nothing out of the ordinary, but the subject matter didn't seem to mesh with that. His girlfriend was seeing a host? "But you're still together...?" "Yeah... I'd be mad if she was dating another man, but hosts are kinda like idols. When they're on the clock, they might technically be men, but they're not 'real,' in a way. I dunno if that makes any sense to you, though. It's just like how someone being a hostess's number one client doesn't mean they're dating her." That was true, I supposed, but was he really satisfied with that arrangement? I looked at him trying to find an answer in his face, and he just laughed with a ragged expression. I guess not. "Nozomi lives for the night life. I know that. And I know that's why she spends money on that guy. She says that it's fun for her to see him having fun at the club with her money, that it makes her feel accomplished. It just sounds so depressing... but it's depressing for me, too. I mean, who is this host guy anyway? Don't you already have a bartender for a boyfriend? At most, we're talking the difference between a common goldfish and a fancy breed—they're still both goldfish." "I guess that sounds kinda like the difference between Richard and me."

classic comparison to make, thank you seigi. I can always count on you.

"It's torture." Apparently Nozomi had told him that hosts were just "dazzling." This was the guy who told me that regular men only look at hosts with one of two things in their eyes: disgust or jealousy. And that it tended to be jealousy for men who were in love. When his girlfriend essentially told him that he wasn't "dazzling," he made a decision. He would make a change. He would work to become the owner of a host club rather than a lowly bartender. "So you decided to... Wait, are you being serious? That's so reckless." "That's easy for you to say when you have no idea how much a popular host can make in a night. It's absurd. A club or two can get by on one popular guy. That's how this world works. I'm not kidding when I say attractive men can keep the world turning." “…Still, I think it's a pretty crazy idea." He looked a little embarrassed. Of course, I didn't know anything about the industry, but I was a little dubious that success could come so easily. I feel like host clubs would be all over the place if it really was that simple. The most laid-back person in my prep class has to be either me or Shimomura, and I just knew even he'd be a little suspicious if I asked his opinion on this. If a good man was enough to bring customers in, you'd first need to find that man—which was why Satoshi had been walking around Tokyo looking for "dazzling" men. He started pretending to be a host because it was hard to imagine getting a favorable response from people with, "Hi, I'm a bartender, would you like to become a host?" "But I couldn't find the right guy. The young ones would always get nervous at the mere mention of the industry, and when I got a bite, they'd immediately start asking me to lend them money." "Well... I guess that's to be expected..." He had zeroed in on the area around jewelry shops to hunt for host candidates. I think his theory that men going to buy jewelry either were hosts or would be interested in becoming one was pretty off the mark, but regardless, his dedication to getting something done when he put his mind to it was impressive. At any rate, he would loiter near jewelry shops and approach men going into or coming out of them. Whenever the employees chased him off, he'd move to another store. Just listening to the story was starting to get painful. After failing more times than he could count, Satoshi found himself meandering around the shops on the outskirts of Ginza. That was when he saw something that hit him like a bolt of lightning. Richard. "I was so shocked. A man who looked like he'd stepped right out of a classic Hollywood film was standing there, talking to a shop owner in fluent Japanese. I heard them chatting about how the sponge cake at that cafe over there was delicious and how he wishes the public bath nearby offered laundry services, too, and so on. […]

typical richard points of discussion. typical thing for him to do.

[…] After he left, I asked the shop owner about him and was told he owned a new jewelry shop in the area. I thought it must be fate. I mean, seriously, if anyone's born to be a host, it's him. Honestly, why is he in the jewelry business? He could make a living off that face alone." "I'm not sure he'd appreciate it if you told him that." "I'm being serious though." Put it the wrong way, and "you have a nice face" can sound like it comes with an implicit, "and it's the only aspect of you that has any value." Of course, Richard's looks were definitely extraordinary, and I didn't doubt he'd have at least the same power to attract guests that the pandas at Ueno Zoo[—”]

SEIGI.

[“—]did. But it wasn't like he just stumbled into being an Englishman with perfect Japanese running jewelry shop by no effort of his own. "...I mean, he came all the way from Europe to Japan to open a jewelry shop. I think he has a pretty good reason to be doing that." "Like what?" "I don't know, but maybe he just loves what he does?" He went silent. I wondered why. He had a weird expression, like he'd seen the straight ball I threw him coming but still took it to the face, and hard. I casually made the comment that if Richard wanted an easy life, he could probably go anywhere and have an affair with a member of some royal family, and Satoshi flashed a big, toothy host smile. It reminded me a bit of Shimomura's smile when he saw me off from the bar the other day—thirty percent happiness, seventy percent bitterness, and full of resignation. "What I wanna say is, he could just work for me, then." "All right, let's say you did get him on board. What was your plan after that?" "I decided I'd just go with the flow and figure it out from there. As far as the money goes, I could just get a loan. I think even if I confessed that I was really just a bartender, as long as I got a location rented, I could make it work somehow." "That's a pretty sorry excuse for a plan. You should probably be glad it failed."

SEIGI.

"You're probably right." This time the smile was closer to eighty percent bitterness. It hardly qualified as a smile anymore. Mr. Takatsuki wiped the sweat from his brow and his moist eyes with his pajama sleeve. "The thing is, I really hate the person I am right now. I love Nozomi, but I can't keep her safe and happy, and I'll never outshine a host. I can't even increase our income. I don't have anything. I've been scraping by, trying not to think about it for so long, but I don't think my body can take any more of this lifestyle. I feel burnt out, like the walls are closing in on me. That's when I found your jewelry shop. I kept thinking to myself, what the hell are you doing, man? Are you just gonna be a good-for-nothing drunk for the rest of your life?" “...So that's what the amethyst was about." "I went in planning to buy something, not really caring what it was. It was a lot less expensive than I thought." Almost exactly a week after he visited Richard's shop, he put on that amethyst pendant and went out. Nozomi had a client that made her drink a ton again that day, and she went into her usual routine. Normally, Satoshi would just watch from his place behind the counter, but for some reason, he just couldn't bear it that night. He put himself in the ring this time, downing all of Nozomi's drinks for her, making merry and drinking even more. The customer clapped for joy at seeing the bartender who usually rarely drank at all cutting loose, and Satoshi just kept drinking and drinking and drinking as long as the customer insisted. When he was starting to have a hard time standing, he slipped out the back of the club. Satoshi forced an awkward smile. Apparently, I had a pretty horrified look on my face. "Don't look at me like that. I didn't actually think legend about the amethyst preventing drunkenness was real. It was completely my fault. You and your boss had nothing to do with it." "That's not why I'm concerned. Do you know how many people die every year of acute alcohol poisoning? It's really not funny. And why did you leave the club like that? That was so dangerous." "I mean, I was drunk. Plus, I didn't want Nozomi to see me make a fool of myself." "You passed out in a pile of garbage."

SEIGI!!!!!!

“...I do remember making it two blocks down the street." He muttered to himself that he was surprised he was still alive and put his hands in mine. "Your name was... Seigi, right? I remember the EMTs saying your name. Thank you. You saved my life. And I'm so sorry for causing you so much trouble." "You really don't need to apologize to me. What are you planning to do now?" "I called the club earlier. I got chewed out and fired. Dating the hostesses is against the rules, so Nozomi might be in trouble, too. I'm worried. It doesn't take much to make her cry. She's always bawling at every little thing." "Did you call Nozomi?" "I texted her that I was in the hospital this morning. I figured she'd still be asleep." He smiled without reservation. He smiled again when I gave him a concerned look. It was a defiant smile. The defeat that had colored all his expressions thus far had vanished. "It's so weird. I've done something so stupid, but for some reason I don't regret any of it." I gave him an indignant look, and he put his hands together and apologized profusely. "What am I gonna do now... You know, I think I might try going back to the country. My parents have a vineyard, see. I'm the oldest son, but I kinda shirked my duties. If I help out, surely they'll let even their good-for-nothing son sleep under their roof. Plus, the grapes my old man produces sparkle like gems. They're delicious, to boot." "What about Nozomi?" "You really know how to hit a guy when he's down. I'm a farmer at heart. I'm a totally different breed from a hostess, and our incompatibility couldn't be more obvious now. I'm not good enough for her. And I'm not old fashioned enough to ask her to come with me." "Does that mean you're breaking up with her?" He went quiet and thought for a moment before silently shaking his head. "I can't give up on her. I want her to wait for me. I'm gonna tell her I'll come back to Tokyo someday, so if she can bear it—" "Sounds like you're expecting a lot of patience. How do you know you won't meet someone else while you're in Nagano? Are you sure you don't actually want her to come with you?" "Of course I do! I love her! But it's not that simple." He sounded genuinely mad. I was still a little worried but figured I'd said enough. "Did you hear that? That's how he feels!" I said, half shouting. The door to the room opened without a sound, and a bubbly, cutesy woman tottered in. Her brown hair was a mess, and she had a seasonally inappropriate coat on over her dress. She clutched a pink towel, and her whole face was red from crying. Satoshi shouted, "Nozomi!" "How dumb can you be?! Why are you so stupid?! You can't still be drunk! You big, stupid, useless idiot!" "What are you doing here?" "Oh, shut up, dummy! Obviously, I'm here because I was worried about you!" I left Satoshi in his panic and got up from my seat. Nozomi sat down in my place, wiping her face with the towel while giving Satoshi a couple of gentle smacks across the face. "You almost died! How can you act like barely anything happened... Don't text me when it's something that important, you oaf! Call me! You big, stupid dummy... Maybe you should just go die for real!" "I'm sorry, Nozomi. I'm so sorry." "I can never leave you alone. I guess I have no choice but to go with you," Nozomi said, clutching Satoshi's hands and falling onto the bed in tears. I left the room with a big grin on my face and walked down the hall. I bowed to one of the nurses near the elevator, and she responded in kind.

I know the answer. I know. but Could you two be normal people for a change

Richard checked his watch. It was 10:30 a.m. If we took the Jaguar, we could get back to the store by 11:00 easily. "You could have gone back without me." "And without access to a car, you would be late to work."

no they can’t . what a shock

I'd contacted Richard while I was stuck waiting at the hospital. He was initially in a very bad mood because he'd already gone to bed, but when I explained the situation, he let out a sigh and asked me when visiting hours started. We'd had basically the same idea: I'd go home, get some rest, then meet up in Ginza and take Richard's green Jaguar to the hospital. As we were coming up into the hospital from the underground parking, we ran into a woman who'd arrived by taxi. Her eyes were red, and she had an ostentatious hairstyle that didn't really match her hastily cobbled-together wardrobe. We ended up in the same elevator, got off on the same floor, and were headed in the same direction. When I saw her write the name "Nozomi Kanzaki" in big bubble letters on the guest form, I remembered what Satoshi had been shouting the previous night: Nozomi. I took her aside and asked her if she wouldn't happen to know a Satoshi Takatsuki, and I was right. What little composure she had left dissolved. She broke down crying and told us all the dirty details of Satoshi's rampage the previous night. He barged in on a party, got drunk, and disappeared before anyone realized. He didn't come back by closing time. The owner was furious and fired him on the spot. Nozomi was worried about him, so she went looking for him after closing time, only to find an ambulance had taken a bartender away and was told what hospital they'd taken him to. She cried as she disparaged him. She had no idea why he'd done it. She broke down sobbing, saying that if he was unhappy with something, he should have just talked to her about it, and that she didn't know what to do anymore. And the person who got down on his knees to catch her was none other than my boss. When she saw Richard's face, Nozomi blushed with embarrassment, asking what club he was from again. We had a little meeting on the bench in front of the nurses' station. A sort of strategy meeting. Richard was the ideas man. Nozomi gave the go-ahead, and I was the one assigned to execute it. The plan was simple, really, I'd use my position as the person who saved his life to get him to talk honestly about what was going on. Honestly, I wasn't crazy about the idea in the beginning. I mean, there could be some circumstances behind the whole situation that might be better left unsaid, and Nozomi might get hurt. But Richard looked at me with calm eyes the whole time. We might not have known each other all that long, but—and I know this sounds crazy—I didn't want to do anything that could bring him unhappiness. I almost felt like I couldn't do that to him. I had the feeling that Richard had already gotten a pretty solid read on the situation before he even proposed the plan.

I know this sounds crazy, he says. seigi Did you know? You just said one of the most obvious things in the world to us just now

Nozomi encouraged me, telling me to "give 'im hell!", and I braced myself for what I was about to do. In the end, it wasn't as bad as I'd feared. While we were in the elevator, which was big enough to fit a hospital bed, I asked Richard a question. "What exactly was bothering you so much when Mr. Takatsuki left the shop? Don't tell me you knew this would happen."

"You could tell he wasn't really a host though, right?" "Someone who is confident in their profession doesn't go out of their way to boast about it indiscriminately. He had the feeling of a buzzing mosquito, following you everywhere, yet easily charmed by the flame of a candle." "So that's what was going through your head while you were talking about gemstones. Scary..." "Excuse you." Richard pondered it on his own for a bit after that, saying he had the sense that what Satoshi had been after wasn't actually a gemstone. "So what was he after in the end? Maybe it really was a host." "I don't think that's the case. The thing he wanted from the very bottom of his heart wasn't a piece of jewelry but something that would make him feel like it gave him a power-up." "A power-up? Like a magic accessory in a video game?" "It's not magic, but you often hear stories about people who don't normally wear jewelry acting differently when they do. Wearing jewelry makes them more acutely aware of themselves and how others look at them, and they act accordingly. Beautiful gemstones have a unique power to their beauty." "So they can kinda influence people's behavior. Like a fancy stone might make a woman feel compelled to act more elegantly?" "Or it might make her more arrogant or less cautious about spending money." "These all sound like bad things." "Of course, gemstones can have a positive influence on behavior as well. Like an athlete's good luck charm or, on the more extreme end, the way the crown jewels are said to bestow wisdom on their wearer. At any rate, humans are creatures that grow in order to accomplish their own desires. A gemstone might act as a catalyst for action, but they are not the engine—only the heart can provide the fuel for that." “...That sounds kind of scary." "You're absolutely hopeless." Satoshi had had a carefree smile on his face, but if anything had gone differently, he could have died. As the thought of how close to the brink he'd come last night sent a chill down my spine, Richard continued talking. "While I don't dispute that it's up to the individual to determine what they do and where, as a simple lover of gemstones, I would like to do what I can to prevent situations where beautiful stones bring unhappiness to others. Let us be thankful for your extraordinary luck." My shoulders drooped. There couldn't be many part-time jobs that came with so many extra obligations.

okay seigi you need to listen to me closely: there aren't that many extra obligations. you just take them on yourself. you are doing this to yourself. I love you very much also

When the elevator arrived at the first floor, a pajama-clad elderly person and an accompanying younger person were waiting in front of the door. The way Richard startled the moment the door opened was kind of funny. We left the hospital from there. I wondered if Nozomi had stopped crying yet. "You know, I was wondering. I noticed when you explained what the word amethyst comes from meant you said that it meant 'to not become intoxicated by alcohol' and not for 'alcohol not to intoxicate you.' I don't entirely understand what the difference in nuance is, but you seemed very particular about your choice of words there." "Oh, you have an interest in Greek grammar? It's a difference in voice: active vs. passive. And the Greek word happens to be in the passive voice." "Nope, I don't. And even if I were, I'm definitely not that interested!" As we headed toward the door to the underground parking lot, the jeweler gave me a fast-paced lecture. He explained that back in the era when most people believed that gemstones possessed magical powers, people used to believe that amethysts would ward off intoxication, and thus their owners would, "not become intoxicated by alcohol." For however many thousands of years alcohol has existed, people have probably always overindulged and suffered for it. Even if you took Satoshi's story, for example, he acted recklessly because he wanted to protect Nozomi and didn't want her to get drunk. The way they got there was pretty awful, but I guess in the end, everything turned out all right. "Who was that god of wine again? Bacchus? Sounds like a pretty lazy guardian deity to me." "In various tales, Bacchus, also known as Dionysus, is a passionate god who is no stranger to drunkenly barging in on parties. Perhaps, in a sense, you could say he did bless our wayward client." "You should definitely not mention that to him." Richard gave me a look, like he was surprised I was telling him something so obvious. He pushed the button on his key fob when we got to the parking lot. The car made a couple of beeps as it awoke. I decided this might be my best shot. "Ahh, today's been such a lovely day, huh? We saw a love story end well—doesn't it just make you feel good about the world? I gotta hand it to you, your cupid strategy was a total success. I wonder what those two are gonna do next." "You know, I've been thinking this since I was waiting outside the room earlier, but you really are an atrocious actor." "I'm sure that if Tanimoto and I had someone in our corner who was so smart and honorable, then—" "There are those who say that love is a disease of the heart. Let us pray upon the power of the stone that prevents one from becoming intoxicated to swiftly quell your fever. Well, I guess people only tend to think something counts once what's behind the curtain is revealed. I think the moment satiating your vanity becomes your foremost priority, your budding romance has much more significant problems to worry about."

I was pretty sure that even if I passed the civil service exam in one try, I'd never be able to afford a Jaguar. But I wanted to be able to experience this indescribable slow-speed rollercoaster ride with her someday, even just once. I wanted to savor the feeling of our familiar world becoming an unfamiliar space with her. Though maybe she would just go, "Huh? What?" But maybe she would smile at me softly.

We'd stopped next to a hotel with a concert hall attached. I guessed it was a pretty fancy area. I'd never stayed at the hotel or even gone inside, so you might be wondering how I knew about it. Well, it all went back to a rather painful and pathetic moment last Christmas, when I was diligently doing research just in case I ever got a girlfriend.

seigi......... why's THIS the part that makes the chapter topical. you're so LAME!!!!! and SWEET ALSO SOMEHOW. let me throw rocks at you

Thank you. Thank you, past me. If I could go back in time and let you know that your lonely, girlfriendless internet browsing would pay off, I would. I feel like that could have kept you from suffering in vain. The customer that day was a man from the Maldives. He had a cheerful chat with Richard in a language I couldn't even recognize as they ate the tropical mousse I'd bought.

and that concludes this edition of Seigi Sunday on "The Amethyst of Protection". on this Still christmas.* Merry Christmas! and happy holidays!!! That ones not out of date :)

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

.

[mekkthemighty]

Still reviving my old flash animations, still not sorry, still have to work in thd morning and still overcaffeinated fight me!!.. please.. getting knocked out means I go to sleep..

This one actually only took like 30 mins at the time

I go out to Amtgard (local larp community) to swordfight, and 2 blade is probably my preferred style, other than spear, spear is just best weapon, point is I understood the motions going in

[xenon-demon]

ooo tell me more about med student steve & nurse eddie 💕💕💕

HELLO JANAI!!! this fic is the one I'm most actively writing rn (as opposed to Kas!Steve AU where i'm constantly rotating it in my brain like a rotisserie chicken, but that's for outlining/untangling knots in the plot reasons lmao) so I am Very Happy to talk about it <3

I did actually finish properly outlining this AU today too!! Unless inspiration strikes me and I write way too much for something, it looks like this fic will be 7 chapters and a short epilogue.

SO, to answer your ask I'm going to share with you what some of the other ST characters (those that I've slotted into a healthcare role, at least) are doing in this AU:

Chrissy is the ward clerk, aka the person who handles all the admin tasks, on the ward Eddie works on! They're best friends, and if there's a quiet moment (or more likely, Eddie is on break) you can usually find them talking shit together at Chrissy's desk. Chrissy is also a bi icon in this AU 🩷💜💙

Joyce is the Nurse Unit Manager of the ward - as the title implies, she's the boss of the nursing staff on the ward and in charge of things like making sure hospital policies are being followed & organizing the nursing team so all patients are adequately cared for. She is Very Overworked but she runs a tight ship!

Argyle is one of the hospital pharmacists, and Jonathan is a trainee hospital pharmacist working with him (but not directly under him as Argyle's personal trainee. That'd be a little weird, considering they're dating). Argyle is also working on a research paper about the benefits of medicinal marijuana (with hopes the team's findings will contribute to further legalisation across the country).

Jason sucks. Jason is a medical student on placement with Steve, and he's... he's what we call a gunner. In med school, gunners are students who are ambitious to a fault, potentially willing to throw other students under the bus to further their own career or academic performance, and often focus too much on the "being right"/"being The Best at medicine" aspects of being a doctor instead of prioritizing the patient and their needs. Basically, he's an out-of-touch privileged jackass who comes from a long line of doctors, and has therefore just Assimilated into the family destiny without ever thinking about what being a doctor actually means.

Vickie works in the hospital pathology centre - she's one of the people who picks up samples and processes them after the doctors or nurses drop them off. Every time Robin goes up there (because it's common to send the med students off to drop off the pathology samples) she is So Very Normal and makes Normal People Conversation with Vickie. Robin is so smooth, I promise.

Nancy is another medical student like Robin & Steve are, and she's currently with the consult psychiatry team with Robin. Nancy is also dating Jonathan, because Jonathan has two hands, and Nancy is very interested in the research work Argyle does. She is still Steve's ex-girlfriend in this AU - they had a poorly-thought-out brief relationship in their first year of medical school, and no one in the medical school has let them live it down.

Dr Henry Creel is the consultant doctor in charge of the Internal Medicine team Steve & Jason are currently with. As he's in charge of the team, he's the one who grades the med students and decides if they pass or fail their placement term. I'm sure nothing bad will come of this.

For reference, the "young adults" of the ST cast are in their mid-twenties in this AU. This means that those in fields like nursing or pharmacy have already graduated from college and are full-status employees in their chosen fields, while the med students of the group are still working their way through medical school (since doing a bachelor's + an MD is pretty time-consuming, and that's before you take any time off from studying after high school or between degrees). Also, Henry is Older here, since in canon he's like... what, 40 in 1986? He's at least in his fifties in this AU, since consultant doctors are rarely any younger than that (particularly if they're not brand new to the job).

Also, if I haven't said this elsewhere already, this is a modern AU! No way am I forcing myself to replace all my healthcare knowledge with healthcare knowledge from 40 years ago for this fic, it's bad enough I have to pretend to understand how the American healthcare system works lmao

Send me an ask about my WIPs!

[wesam12]

Save our lives ‼️🚨

"I am Wissam... The last time I hugged someone, it was a corpse." 😭💔

The night was very long that day. I was counting the days until I would give birth to my twins. I brought them names, and planned to wrap my body around them when the tents grew cold. But death was faster. 😭

We fled our home under shelling, and my father was in the hospital, unable to stand. I told them, "My father can't move." The soldier said, "It doesn't matter, leave." So we left... and my father was left alone, until his heart closed forever. 😔💔

On the way south, I walked for hours carrying two children in my belly, a bag in my hand, and the rest of my memories on my back.

I bled on the way.

I lost my twins there, on the asphalt, in front of my other children who couldn't even cry. 😭😭

The next day, I woke up and found them buried under the sand. No grave, no names.

Now, I'm seven months pregnant with my third child.

But anemia is tearing me apart, stress is breaking my head, and hunger is eating away at what's left of me.

I feel my baby pleading with me from within: "Mother, don't die."

And I apologize to him every day... because I can't promise him life.

“I am Wissam… I lost my father, my children, my home, and even my voice.

I don’t want to lose this child too.

Help me before I become another memory in this broken land.

My father was the only one I could place all my hopes and dreams on. He was the one who lifted me up whenever I fell, and held my hand when my steps faltered. In those dark days of war, I saw him strong in front of me. Even in moments of silence, his presence was enough to make me feel safe. He wasn't just the father I loved, he was my refuge, the hope I lived by. 😭💔

But one day, suddenly, that hope disappeared.

The sky was covered with heavy clouds, as if it knew what was going to happen. That day, I was at home, climbing on my tiptoes, holding on to any glimmer of hope, but when I entered our small room, I found my mother in the corner of the room crying, her face pale, her eyes filled with tears, and her mouth almost unable to speak. 💔😭

I couldn't believe what she was saying. My father, who had always been the strength in my life, was gone. In an instant, everything disappeared, and the words kept repeating in my head without me being able to understand them. "He's not coming back." Those words were harder than any blow I had ever received in my life. 😭😭

I felt like I was in a dark dream. How could my father disappear like that? How could time go on without his voice, without me seeing his face again? How much I needed him in those moments, how much I needed to hear his words of reassurance. But it was all over, and all that remained was the silence filling the emptiness around me. 💔

Every corner of the house became a tragedy. Everything reminded me of him, every corner, every smell, everything. I thought I would lose my ability to breathe. His absence was heavier than anything else. I cannot imagine a world without him, and I cannot see a future without his advice, without a hand to lift me up whenever I feel like I am drowning.

As I sit here, in that dark room, I remember everything about my father. How he used to laugh when I made small mistakes, how he used to hug me when the world was dark, and how his words filled my life with meaning. But now he's not here, and the emptiness in my heart can't be filled with anything else. Every time I close my eyes, I see him in every corner. I feel him, but I can't touch him. And despite all the pain, despite all the sadness, I know he's not coming back, that he's left me in this world, to face it alone.

He's gone, but a part of him, a part of his soul, will remain in my heart forever. Even though I can't hear his voice or see him, I carry his memories with me every step of the way, every moment. I've lost him, but I can never forget him.😭😔

Share my campaign 🙏

#30 Verified By @bilal-sala7 ✅️

Thank you 🩷

[meezer]

I need a cigarette or twelve holy fuck I feel horrible

[awkward-teabag]

Nothing like puzzling an allergist because you don't react to anything on the test yet have a reaction serious enough you need an Epi-pen on you and the progression is such that subsequent exposures could be life-threatening (because that's how allergies tend to progress).

Though it's nice being believed even when tests say otherwise.

[tkbrokkoli]

just found an envelope that said "open this in case of death" signed by a family member, who is still alive rn but it kinda shook me for a moment

[parkers-gal]

take me home J.B.

pairing: husband!bucky barnes x f!reader

wc: 1.7k

trope: secret wife / secret relationship

warnings: not proof read. rip. i'll edit the mistakes tmr lol. this is another self indulgent piece bye

timeline: idk this is not a canon event but just imagine endgame never happened. i like to imagine him with the metal arm (not the vibranium one) but i think this can be seen with any

summary: the team discovers bucky's relationship with you when bucky searches for you in the hospital after hydra attacks new york

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

“we just got the last of them on the east side. does anyone need backup?” natasha’s voice rings through the comms. tony’s response comes within a few seconds.

“air is neutral up here.”

“we’re just about wrapping up here,” steve adds on. “let’s reconvene on fifth and check in with emergency services.” he glances at bucky who stands on his left, stoically waiting for the next command. bucky nods at steve’s silent question, you ready?

they step over a pile of rubble. bucky reloads his gun, placing it back in its holster and starting a light jog as steve leads them away from the scene behind them. hydra had sent many reinforcements after the team had done a recon mission at an abandoned hydra base that was unknowingly more important to them than the avengers had initially realized. new york came to bear the consequences, just as the city always did. something about high populated cities… or whatever steve told the team as they were gearing up a few hours ago.

they turn the next few blocks and see sam land beside wanda and clint, his wings collapsing into his jet-backpack. tony joins them, already starting his updates.

“nypd called in the national guard to detain as many of the human reinforcements as they could,” he fiddles with some tech on his arm. “emt said graybar, seagram, and chanin had some pretty heavy bombings. victims are being relo-”

“chanin?” bucky cuts in. most of his teammates look at him with shocked faces. “did you say the chanin building?”

“yes, tinman.” tony retorts. “victims are being relocated to the closest hospitals in the area.”

“which ones?”

slightly annoyed, tony turns to look at him. “does it matter?”

bucky’s jaw clenches. “yes. it does.”

sam cuts in.“there’s five hospitals within a mile of here, there’s no way you’re going to know where one person went, bucky.”

“i don’t give a fuck.” he’s definitive and it shuts everyone up. “i want to know which hospitals.”

with a sigh, steve concedes and jogs over to the paramedic perched on the end of an ambulance, assisting a woman with a cut on her eyebrow.

bucky decides to make his way over too, only hearing the tail end of the conversation as steve says ‘thank you.’

“well?”

steve sighs again. “he said lagone is the closest, but frank ross hospital and tisch are taking in some too because the influx is so bad.”

bucky doesn’t even reply, jogging off in the direction of the first hospital and leaving steve in the middle of the road, stunned.

clint breaks the silence. “where is he going?”

“to the hospital, i guess?” steve sounds unsure in his response, still watching as bucky gets smaller and smaller as the distance between them increases. 

“maybe we should go with him.” wanda suggests. “we still need to debrief and do our write ups.”

natasha gives her a side eye and wanda laughs. 

“just following orders.” she exaggerates, teasing natasha and steve for their insistence on following the protocols. 

“alright let’s go, then.” tony thrusts upward, sam following him up as everyone else begins to jog in bucky’s direction.

but bucky is fast. they don’t realize how much until they almost lose him two blocks over. they trail behind him as he bursts through the emergency room, charging towards the front desk. 

“do you have a patient named y/n?” he begins to spell out your name letter by letter until the desk attendant interrupts.

“sir, i need you to step into the waiting room unless you need immediate medical care.” the room around them is a flurry of crying people, overwhelmed nurses, and helpless policeman who try to reorganize the growing number of patients. 

“no, i need you to check if you have a patient under the name of y/-”

the team stands by the entrance, watching the interaction unfold but not quite understanding it.

“who is he looking for?”

everyone turns to steve assuming he knows, but his face shows just as much confusion. “i don’t know.”

“please,” bucky starts again. “do you have a patient register for today’s patients?”

with a click of her tongue, she hands bucky a clipboard with several papers on it. bucky’s eyes scan the names, worry etched on his face when he doesn’t see yours. 

“sorry.” he mumbles, leaving the clipboard on the counter and turning around. he stops when he sees the team, but moves past them when he remembers what he’s doing.

anxiety is gnawing at him as he finds his motorcycle parked by the quinjet a few blocks away. he immediately drives off towards the next hospital, worried as ever that something has happened to you. you aren’t answering his calls, not texting him back, and he can’t find your location on the little app you taught him how to use. he doesn’t know what else to do. 

the team can barely keep up, trying their best to help the people around them as they trail after bucky. they still don’t know what he’s doing or who he’s looking for. 

by the third hospital, bucky is fed up and on the verge of a breakdown. he only has so much patience at this point, and sam is all too familiar with the signs.

“do you have a patient under the name y/n?” it’s the third time in the last hour he’s desperately asked a nurse at a front desk. he does the same thing, spelling out your name letter by letter until the nurse interrupts him. 

“you’ll have to wait to check the registry list after all the patients have been attended to.”

“how long is that going to take?” his voice is laced with attitude, and he almost feels bad if not for the pit of anxiety swelling in his stomach. 

“sir, you’re wasting my time.”

“bucky, c’mon, let’s go.” steve reaches to hold bucky’s shoulder, but he shrugs it off.

“no, goddammit!” he’s fuming, turning back to the nurse. “i need you to tell me if you have a patient, y/n barnes. i’m her next of kin.” he slams his fist on the counter. steve takes a step back towards sam, in shock at the information.

“does he have, like, a niece?” sam asks. “did he tell you anything about his sister? maybe she had a family after-”

“yes, i see her name listed here. only immediate family can see her.”

“i am immediate family!”

“sir, unless you are a parent or her husband, you need to wait until all th-”

“i am her husband!” he slams his ring down on the counter, gripping onto it like he depends on it, because he can’t risk losing you. “take me to see me wife right now.”

with a nod, she leads bucky down a hallway of rooms, turning left into the very first room. she makes her way back towards the front desk where steve has now approached.

“hi, ma’am. would you mind if-” steve gestures towards the room. the nurse’s jaw drops at seeing the vibranium shield, clint’s bow, and tony stark standing there with a partially deconstructed nano-tech suit. 

“go right ahead.” she stutters out, watching the avengers trail after the man with the metal arm. they stop in the doorway, huddled as they watch.

“y/n?” bucky steps towards the hospital bed.

you aren’t even laying in it. you’re sitting on the edge of it staring out a window, back facing the door. at the sound of his voice, you whip around. tear streaks stain your face.

“bucky, oh my god-” you run into his chest, engulfing him in a hug. he sighs into your hair, smelling you and breathing in relief at the sight.

“you’re okay, it’s okay.” he coos, rubbing your back. “what happened? are you hurt?”

you shake your head, still nuzzled into his chest. you peer up at him, “paramedics found me unconscious. it’s just a concussion, but they brought me in anyways. i just have a couple stitches.” you gesture to your calf. “rough fall after i got knocked out, i guess.”

he nods, pulling you in for a kiss. it’s desperate and full of love and every emotion he’d felt in the last two hours.

“i thought- i thou-”

“no.” you cut him off. “i tried to find a phone but nothing was going through. i saw the weird alien dogs coming from a giant truck, and- and the hydra symbol was plastered all along the sides i thought maybe they-” you can’t even finish your sentence, too overwhelmed at the possibility. 

“never.” he kisses your forehead, holding your face in both his hands. “they could never take me from you.”

you rest your forehead against his, inhaling the scent of your husband and gripping onto him because you never want to leave him again. 

“so..” tony cuts in. “wife?”

“tony!” natasha scolds. “get back here!”

clint tries his best not to laugh but he can barely hold it in.

sam is next to join in. “when did this happen?” he looks at steve with a quirked brow. ���did you know?”

“i swear i didn’t.”

“a wife.” sam repeats. “you didn’t know your best friend has a wife.”

“he’s a trained spy!”

“and a former soviet asset.” clint confers. “you’d think you would keep more tabs on the guy.”

steve rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to bucky.

“is she really your wife?”

bucky nods reluctantly, a little sheepish as you hold up your left hand to show them your rings. 

“for four years now.”

“FOUR YEARS????” 

“sam-” 

“and you NEVER SAID ANYTHING?”

“guys” nat pays no mind to sam’s ramblings. “i think we can all agree how hard it is to live life as an avenger. it’s not like clint was exactly honest about his family, either.”

“i thought you were on my side!” he huffs.

“whatever.” sam pouts. “i wish i could’ve gone to the wedding.”

“we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” bucky smiles appreciatively at steve, who starts moving back towards the exit. “maybe we can talk about this when everything settles down and she gets out of the hospital.” steve looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time. deep down, he’s glad his best friend found the one thing he’s wanted his whole life. “right bucky?”

bucky nods. 

“okay,” steve smiles understandingly. “debrief is tomorrow at noon. don’t be late.”

bucky turns back to you as the team leaves your hospital room. 

“i guess the secrets out.”

bucky nods in agreement. “i’m really glad you’re okay.”

you kiss him again, “take me home, bucky.”

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

bucky masterlist

part two?

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

everyone knows dr. zayne is cool as a cucumber, and it's a given for him that you're known as his wife, but when a fresh-faced new resident seemingly makes a move on you... what will he do?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, jealousy (a very jealous zayne, in fact), making out in his office, crack, fluff, hunter!reader, you and zayne have a daughter

note: inspired by that one kim min-kyu scene in business proposal :D this is actually an extension for nocturne of twilight and dawn's first light but can also be read as standalone

You hadn't seen your husband for two weeks.

There was a spring on your step when you entered Akso Hospital right after your long intercity mission. You had acquired some bruises and they weren't anything serious, so you figured you’d just have Greyson treat them. Besides, it gave you the perfect excuse to hand him some cookies as a souvenir.

And, of course, ask him to ring for Zayne to meet you once he had the time.

"Miss, do you need help?"

But a curious voice addressed you when you loitered around in the lobby, and you turned around to find a bright-faced young man with red hair and wearing doctor's coat.

"Ah, yes, I want to meet Dr. Zayne," you smiled. "Or Dr. Greyson will do."

The young doctor perked up at the names you mentioned. "Oh, are you a patient? Do you have an appointment already?"

"Hmm, no, actually I am—"

You halted mid-sentence before the words his wife slipped out, rethinking your choice. You knew of Zayne's infamous reputation in the hospital, and while almost everyone in his floor knew you, this new doctor didn't, and you thought it was best to leave it that way.

"Yeah, I already have an appointment," you nodded, plastering an thin smile. "Just tell Dr. Greyson that Y/N wants to meet him."

"Right, right, I'll page him now..." he mumbled, pulling out his pager and his phone. "I'll text him too..."

"Thank you."

"O-oh, Miss! Wait!" the young man called after you in a hurry when you turned around. "I've noticed it for a while, you have a cut on the side of your lips..."

"Ah, this..." Your fingers instinctively brushed the dried blood on your lips. You hadn’t thought the small cut was noticeable. "Yes, it’s from earlier—"

"Actually, I’m an ER resident!" he interrupted with a bright grin. "Let me treat you first!"

Caught off guard by his enthusiasm, you barely had time to react as he gently but firmly guided you towards the emergency room.

"Dr. Zayne! Dr. Zayne! Your wife is here~!"

Zayne had barely stepped into his office after a grueling surgery when Greyson barged in, all too casually, delivering the news with a grin. "She’s waiting in the lobby!"

He blinked, slightly taken aback. "Oh?"

You're back? He pulled out his muted phone, checking the notifications. Sure enough, you’d sent him a message an hour ago, letting him know you’d safely landed in Linkon.

His little, snarky wife. For the past two weeks you had been away, the house had felt lonelier. Sure, his daughter—who resembled you in personality, no less—was a bundle of sunshine and adorable beyond words, but without you, there was always that subtle void in the air.

Or maybe it wasn’t the house at all? Maybe it was just him—utterly, hopelessly whipped.

"Why isn’t she coming up to my office?" he asked suddenly, noticing the odd detail.

"Hmm, yeah, and it’s weird... why did the new resident say she’s asking for me?" Greyson mused, turning toward Zayne. "Don’t you want to meet her instead? Whatever she needs me for, I’m sure you could handle it."

Zayne promptly left his office and took long strides toward the elevator. As the doors started to close, he even half-sprinted, calling out to the person inside to hold it for him.

Okay, maybe he was a little too eager, but was it really so wrong to be this excited to see his wife again when the two of you had been apart for two weeks?

...then again, you didn't need to know. You would roast him to bits should you know he missed you this much.

Zayne got off at the lobby, expecting to find you there— only to find the usual flow of hospital staff and visitors. He was about to call you when he wandered past the emergency room and turned the corner—and that’s when he got his shock of the day.

There you were. But not alone.

With a guy.

Whose hand is touching your lips.

"It must be tough being a hunter, huh?"

The red-haired resident carefully tended to your bruised arm, wrapping it in a fresh bandage as you sighed, thinking back to the mission. "Yeah, there are definitely some hard days..."

"But despite all that, you still keep yourself in shape!" he remarked, eyeing your toned arms with a hint of admiration.

You let out a sheepish laugh, remembering those pull-ups sessions with Zayne. "Haha, that's because my husband makes sure I'm getting enough exercise..."

"You're married?!" His voice was filled with disbelief, and it caught you off guard, yet he grinned afterwards. "Wow! Is he a hunter too?"

You would've never guessed, boy. This resident doctor was cute, you thought, ever so curious at everything. You could only imagine the look on his face if you told him that the Dr. Zayne was your husband.

You were about to refute it when his fingers brushed against your lips. "Oh, sorry, let me apply some ointment here first..."

His touch felt cool to your lips and you were momentarily stunned at the contact— but then a gruff cough startled you so much you almost jumped.

The towering figure of your husband behind him. Zayne's dark gaze was fixed on the man in front of you, like he could murder the poor guy with just a look.

"Z-Zayne...?" you squeaked against the ointment on your lips, and the resident quickly turned behind him in surprise, hastily greeting him, "Oh, Dr. Zayne!"

Zayne shot the poor man a single, pointed look before his gaze shifted to you, clearly unamused.

He suddenly grabbed your hand and, without sparing the resident another glance, swiftly pulled you away. The other guy was left standing there, speechless, as Zayne led you off, leaving him in the dust.

. . .

"Zayne!"

Oh, how he actually missed his name coming out from your lips.

"Are you done with your schedule?" you asked as he pulled you into the elevator, confusion evident in the way you tilted your head. But when he didn’t answer, you glanced down at his firm grip on your arm, suddenly realizing something. "Wait, no... are you angry?"

Sigh. It irked him so much, actually. Because, how could you, after weeks—

No, he actually knew he was being irrational. He shouldn’t overreact like this just because someone else touched you. But why is he so annoyed, still?

"Wait, why?" you kept asking, wide-eyed, as the two of you stepped out and made way towards his office. "I'm not injured! I'm fine! It's just some bruises—"

Without a word, Zayne pulled you into his office, swiftly locking the door behind him. Before you could say another word, he cornered you against the wall, and you fell silent instantly.

It had been a while since he’d seen you this way—stunned, caught off guard, and utterly silent under his gaze. He studied your face closely, watching the way your breath hitched as the tension between you both thickened.

It sparked something inside him seeing you like this, a sense of satisfaction that he couldn’t quite explain, but one he welcomed nonetheless.

That was when he saw the blood on your lips. "Did you get punched in the face?"

"Y-Yes, but— it's nothing severe!" you defended, trying to convince him. "It's such a small cut anyway!"

He frowned. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"What? Hey, I was about to ask Greyson, but—"

That got him frown even deeper, even irate. "Why Greyson? When you come home with any injuries, you come to me, not anyone else."

You let out a resigned sigh, slumping your shoulders in defeat. "Because I know you'll fuss over me, duh."

"I don't fuss," he retorted.

"You do," you shot back, pursing your lips. "You try to act like this cool, calm robot all the time, but you always drone on and on whenever you patch me up. You're worried, it shows."

Zayne huffed, shifting his gaze away from you as he felt his face burn. Was he that obvious? How could he not, though, when you managed to get hurt so often and yet acted so innocent about it?

Then as if inspired, you caught on immediately. Your eyes sparkled, and a mischievous smirk tugged at your lips. "Wait, just now... don't tell me... Are you jealous?"

Damn.

"Heh, Dr. Zayne, really?" Your voice was playful now, mocking him. "Whoa, how can this be?"

How had you figured him out so easily?

You continued in a sing-song voice, putting both hands on your chest, "Ah, my heart flutters! My husband is apparently—"

Enough. This time, his patience snapped.

He didn’t hesitate even for a moment. A low growl escaped him, and in one swift motion, he crashed his lips against yours, silencing you with the most effective method he could think of.

"Mmph!" You gasped in surprise, the teasing words at the end of your tongue completely forgotten. His gray eyes gleamed. Been too long, he thought, and now he was making sure you knew just how badly he craved this.

The kiss was searing as he deepened it, his tongue seeking yours with urgency. "Hngh!" You let out a feeble whine when he teased you by biting your lips.

Zayne held back a snort. One of his hand then strayed inside your hunter uniform, unclasping your bra with a flick.

"—?!" Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening, and before you could process it, he pulled away. But you were far from right in thinking it was over. The dangerous gleam in his eyes kept you tense as he swiftly removed his glasses...

...before he pulled you back towards him and claimed your lips once again.

With a swift, commanding motion, he guided you toward his desk. His papers scattered at the sudden movement, but he had you bent over it regardless, forcing your body to arch. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you firmly against him, while his right hand fondled your breasts, repeatedly squeezing, palming and switching between them.

"Mmm...!" You let out a strangled moan, instinctively holding onto his shoulder, feeling the way how he groped you ignited your core. "Ahh..."

Your body was tantalizing as always. Hardened and sometimes bruised from your work it may be, but to Zayne, you were still beautiful as ever.

When you gasped for air, he decided he was done with your swollen lips. His lips then trailed down to your neck, sucking hard on it, creating a squelching sound that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

"W-what's... gotten into you...?" you breathed out, tangling your fingers in his hair, hyperaware of his hands still roaming over your nipples.

In response, he nibbled at your skin and flicked your breasts at the same time, causing you to freeze and draw a sharp, hitched breath. "Haah...!"

Unbeknownst to you, his lips curled wickedly at your reaction, and he continued to pepper your neck with series of wet sucks as if to mark you altogether. You writhed under him, whiny and sighing, relishing his hot breath on your skin.

You were utterly at his mercy, pliant and helpless in his hands. There was a deep satisfaction in knowing he was the only one who could bring you, his lawfully wedded wife, to this state—

Still, he wouldn’t allow you to be indecent in a place like this. When he finally pulled back, he was breathing heavily, eyes dark with lust, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of your jaw. "Don’t tempt me," he muttered, voice low and raspy.

You gazed up at him, your heart pounding. "Zayne..." you whispered, a whine broke through the heat on your flushed face.

His expression softened just enough, a flicker of tenderness cutting through the intensity. Pretty. That’s what you were, undeniably so. How he had missed out on you so long once was his greatest regret.

Carefully, he helped you sit upright, his touch gentle as he clasped your bra and began buttoning up your uniform, disheveled from his earlier ministrations.

The gentle way he touched you was a stark contrast to how it was earlier. "Is that a new way to treat busted lip?" you nudged his collar, feeling a little braver now.

"For bad wives, yeah."

"I'm not a bad wife! Just disobedient on some occasion."

Zayne's fingers brushed your face as he finished with your uniform, his dark-gray eyes steady on you. You pouted.

"You're the one who's bad," you accused with slight resentment, not missing a beat as the heat between your legs started to dissipate. "Leaving me unfinished like that."

"Hmm? Am I?" he murmured, the faintest amusement in his tone.

"You have to take responsibility tonight, you big meanie," you mumbled, your pout deepening as you avoided meeting his gaze.

Zayne snorted at the sight of you—so precious in his eyes, his thumb lightly grazing the corner of your lips in a gesture so tender it made your heart skip, before whispering in your ear:

"Well, if your voice won't wake our daughter, that is."

Epilogue

Not long after, just as you had gathered yourself and were preparing to leave the hospital to head home, a sudden knock at the door of his office startled you both.

Quickly, you moved to sit on the patient’s seat, feigning nonchalance as you braced yourself for whoever was on the other side. Zayne reached for the door, but before he could unlock it, a familiar voice called out.

"Excuse me!" the resident's voice sounded a bit hesitant but firm. "Dr. Zayne, the miss left her handbag earlier!"

Zayne let out a low, irked sigh. You glanced at him curiously, watching as he opened the door and came face-to-face with the redheaded resident.

Without a word, he extended his hand, and the resident blinked before handing over the bag.

"I-is the miss still here?" the young doctor asked, almost intimidated by his unfriendly gaze.

"Ma'am," Zayne corrected, his voice flat.

"Huh?"

"Call her ma'am. She's someone's wife."

"O-oh, and her husband is—"

"Me. I am her husband."

Your eyes widened in surprise at the matter-of-fact exchange, heat rising to your cheeks as Zayne’s words hung confidently in the air. He curtly thanked the poor resident before slamming the door shut in his face.

Your jaw practically hit the floor. "Zayne!" you gasped, staring at him as he turned back towards you, entirely unbothered.

Your husband was as cold as the snowman he often made, but somehow the way he boldly declared he was your husband was just so him that it made you so giddy.

You tilted your head, crossing your arms with a playful smile. "You’re really jealous, huh? How?"

He didn’t answer, his gaze still fixed elsewhere, most definitely trying to save his dignity.

You chuckled softly, stepping closer to him with a teasing sway. Your fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, turning him to face you, and you winked at him mischievously.

"Well, I’m all yours. But if it makes you feel better, maybe I’ll stay away from any ER residents for a while~"

[happyfunf3tti]

thinking about how i spent the entire morning yesterday reading tony takezaki's parody version evangelion

[cherrygirlfriend]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ examination table

pairing: gynecologist!rafe x reader synopsis: you go to get artificial insemination. your gyno has a different method. warnings/tags: smut, artificial insemination, unprotected piv, breeding kink, public sex, small surprise at the end, MDNI! wc: 1.2k a/n; aside from having to do a strange amount of research about ovulation, iui and me overall being against male gynos; this was fun.

rafe masterlist ♡

you couldn't resist the urge to tap the heel of your boot against the linoleum floor - rolling your golden wedding band so you wouldn't bite your freshly manicured nails. it felt like your heart was going to thump thump thump out of your chest and land on the floor in front of you.

there were only three other people in the waiting room, a few posters related to women's health decorating the otherwise plain, dull, light green walls of the office, the tick-tock of the clock and the hushed whispers of the two nurses behind the front desk being the only thing you could focus on, along with the overpowering stench of chanel no 5 that was wafting from the other customer waiting for her appointment browsing through an age-old copy of cosmopolitan.

you nearly hopped to your feet when the door to one of the offices opened, clutching your purse like it was the only thing keeping you afloat. "come in." doctor cameron said with a small smile on his lips, gesturing towards his office.

you followed the tall man into the sterile, white office, holding your arms tightly against your chest, your shoulders hunched. when doctor cameron noticed how skittish you were being, he offered a small smile, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder before using it to cup your cheek and lifting it up so you were forced to look at his freckled face, "there's no need to be nervous. this is a pretty regular procedure. you can change into the gown and lay down on the examination table."

when you let out a reluctant nod, the doctor walked further into his office, giving you some privacy. while you listened to him rifle through papers, slowly, you tugged your sweater off along with your jeans, leaving your underwear to cover your skin that was now in goosebumps while you covered yourself with the blue rustling hospital gown, until it came time to slip them off.

you took a few tentative steps towards the examination table, walking on your heels as your gynecologist turned to face you, your chart in his hands, his blue eyes skimming over the details as you sat down onto the examination table, the paper sheet rustling against the paper gown in a way that made you cringe.

"so, how many days ago did you take your last dose of clomid?"

"eight days ago." you said with a tight smile, fiddling with the hem of your gown, "and i did an ovulation test before i left home, and it said my ovulation should be at its highest."

"you've really done your homework." he chuckled, placing down the clipboard, placing his warm hand on your bare knee in a comforting gesture. "are you ready to get started? i've got your husband's specimen prepared. don't worry, the catheter won't hurt, you might just feel a bit uncomfortable for a moment."

you took a deep breath, closing your eyes and laying back as you steadied your breathing, trying your best to get comfortable. "ready." you whispered softly, opening your eyes to look up at the slightly yellow-tinted fluorescent light above you.

"it helps the sperm to travel if you've got your pelvis propped up." doctor cameron said in a slightly hushed tone, lifting your hips up and placing a pillow underneath your hips, his hands pressing your hips down to meet it, keeping them there as he looked down at you with a small smile. "there you go. are you comfortable?"

"it does." you swallow dryly, fiddling with the paper sheet underneath you, sighing. "i hope it works out. we've been trying to get pregnant for a year now."

"yeah?" he looked down at you, his eyes crinkling slightly, the feel of the pads of his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he drew small patterns to the hem of your hospital gown. "you know what people say helps with getting pregnant?"

"what?" you almost whispered, your thighs starting to form goosebumps under doctor cameron's fingers as they slowly slid under the crinkly god-ugly gown.

"orgasms." his hand continued to slide up your inner thigh, the metal of your doctor's wedding ring a pleasing contrast against your warm skin, "it's never been proven to be accurate, of course." his hand was just under your crotch, drawing infinity-symbols on your skin, a pondering look on his face as he cocked his head to the side, a small smirk appearing on his face, "but it never hurts to be thorough, right?"

doctor cameron had you folded over on the examination table, holding your legs at your sides, his warm lips placing sloppy, hot kisses on your neck as his cock slid out of you before slamming against your cervix, the man letting out a soft breathy laugh at every little gasp or moan that managed to escape your lips.

"how many times do i have to tell you, sweetie?" he mumbled against your skin, rafe's words intensified by the pace of his hips snapping against yours increasing, a loud yelp leaving you, "you don't need to try and keep quiet. no one's gonna hear us." he breathed out.

the pad of his thumb found your your clit, starting to draw small circles on it as the room was filled with your unsteady breathing combined with the lewd squelch of your pussy every time his hips met yours, "come on, let me hear all those pretty little noises... it's not like this is the first time we've fooled around here."

rafe tried pulling away from your neck, but you tugged him closer by his hair, holding him there as tightly as possible "god, rafe..." you moaned out, the doctor letting out a pleased hum against your skin.

"come on, sweetie... tell me how much you want me to put a baby in you, yeah?"

"so badly..." your back arched off the examination table while rafe's long fingers slid up to your breast, teasing it with small kneads and pinches before his left hand found your hand, your fingers intertwining with his, your matching wedding bands meeting.

"i love you so much... i can't wait for you to be all pretty and pregnant." he smiled against your skin, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

MEANWHILE….

"i wonder what's taking dr. cameron so long..." the receptionist wondered aloud with a frown on her pouty lips, turning to look at the clock on the wall as she tapped her pink fingernails against the desk, "i mean, it's almost lunchtime."

the other receptionist let out a snort, interrupting the movement of the file against her long nail, turning to look at the other girl with raised brows, chewing gum. "what, you don't know?"

"know what?"

"oh, this is good." the receptionist laughed, throwing her head back with laughter in her office chair. "you don't know who she is."

"what?" the other girl asked, huffing in annoyance as she grabbed a cheeto out of the bag sitting in front of them.

"that client is mrs. cameron."

"as in-"

"yup, that was doctor cameron's wife." she let out a loud snort of a laugh as she shook her head, grabbing a cheeto before going back to filing her nails. "guess she gets special treatment."

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐅

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

The sound of tumbling and a series of thuds echoed through the hallway of the Hunter Association building as you lost your footing at the top of the stairs. Your body bumped and rolled down the entire flight before landing in an ungraceful heap at the bottom. Xavier, who had been walking a few paces ahead, turned at the commotion.

He blinked once, then twice, his eyes widening as you simply stood up, dusted yourself off, and continued walking as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Are you okay?” Xavier finally asked, his voice carrying a note of concern. He stood perfectly still, analyzing you with careful eyes.

“Just a little slip. Nothing to worry about,” you responded casually, as if commenting on the weather rather than your spectacular tumble.

When you reached him and nodded casually, he continued to stare, his eyes tracking over your form as if conducting a silent assessment.

“The impact of your fall might cause potential contusions to your left side and possible minor fractures to your wrist based on how you landed,” he stated matter-of-factly, pointing back at the stairs. “Yet you’re displaying no signs of physical distress.”

“I’ve had worse tumbles than that during training,” you replied with a shrug, continuing to walk forward.

As you dismissed his concern with a wave of your hand, a subtle crease formed between his eyebrows.

He reached out, gently taking your arm to stop your forward momentum, and examined you more carefully. His touch lingered for a while.

“Your physical endurance is... unusual,” he observed quietly. “I’ve witnessed similar falls result in hospitalization for others.”

“I’ve had worse during missions,” you said with a hint of pride, meeting his gaze.

Xavier’s eyes narrowed slightly, the only indication that your comment had given him pause. He studied you for a moment longer before releasing your arm.

“If you say so,” he said, falling into step beside you. Yet throughout the remainder of your walk, he stayed unusually close, his hand occasionally brushing against yours. At one point, he subtly adjusted his pace when you winced slightly turning a corner—a reaction so minor most would’ve missed it, but not Xavier.

“The human body often reveals what the mind attempts to conceal,” he remarked softly, hours later, offering you a small container of what appeared to be homemade salve. “For the bruising you claim doesn’t exist. Mission injuries included.”

His last words carried the faintest hint of what might have been amusement, gone so quickly you almost missed it.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The cascade of thuds drew Zayne’s attention immediately. He turned just in time to witness the last half of your tumble down the hospital’s stairwell, your body bouncing off the final steps before sprawling across the polished floor. His posture stiffened as you simply stood up, straightened your clothes, and began walking away as if you hadn’t just fallen down an entire flight of stairs.

“Stop right there,” his voice cut through the shocked silence of onlooking hospital staff, his tone commanding.

You turned around with an exaggeratedly innocent expression, eyes wide, pointing to yourself as if to say “Who, me?” despite being the only person who just performed an impromptu demonstration of gravity’s effects.

Zayne’s eyebrows knit together, clearly not amused by your feigned innocence. His footsteps quickened as he approached you in a few strides.

“As your doctor, I’m not giving you an option here,” he said firmly, moving directly into your path and effectively blocking your escape. “Come here. Now.”

“Is this your professional opinion or personal concern talking?” you asked, a hint of challenge in your voice as you met his stern gaze.

Something flickered briefly across his features—perhaps surprise—before his professional demeanor reasserted itself.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” he said, his expression hardening as he gestured to his office that happened to be nearby. “You just fell down an entire flight of stairs. Adrenaline can mask symptoms of a concussion or internal bleeding. This isn’t negotiable.”

He guided you firmly but gently into the room, his trained hands already examining the back of your head for contusions.

“Follow my finger,” he instructed, moving it side to side before your eyes. His expression remained serious, but you caught the slight softening around his eyes—a look of concern he didn’t bother hiding from you. “Even if you feel fine now, delayed symptoms are common with trauma injuries. The human spine isn’t designed to bounce down twenty steps.”

“Is this really necessary?” you sighed, even as you complied with his instructions.

“Yes,” he replied curtly, not breaking his concentration as he continued his examination. “It is absolutely necessary. And if you were anyone else, you’d already be on your way to radiology.”

After completing his thorough examination, his expression softened slightly. He reached into his pocket and offered you a piece of candy.

“What’s this for?” you asked, surprised.

“Sugar. Helps with shock,” he explained, pecking your forehead. “Next time, please hold the railing.”

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

Rafayel was midway through a call with Thomas, describing his latest artistic inspiration with gestures when the thunderous cascade of your body tumbling down the stairs interrupted him. His expression froze in horror as he watched you bouncing and rolling down the entire flight, wincing visibly with each impact.

“Oh—” His eyes widened comically as you hit the bottom with a final thud. But before he could rush to your aid, you simply stood up, brushed yourself off, and continued walking as if nothing had happened.

Rafayel stared at you, mouth slightly agape. He blinked rapidly, looking from you to the stairs and back again.

“Wait, wait, wait!” He ended the call abruptly, not even bothering with a goodbye, and hurried after you, his long legs quickly closing the distance. “Did you really just—? And you’re just—you’re just walking?!”

“Your face right now is priceless,” you said with a small laugh, watching his expressions shift rapidly between shock, concern, and disbelief. “Take a breath, Rafayel. You look like you might pass out.”

His face scrunched up in a dramatic wince as he examined you from all angles, hands fluttering near your shoulders as if afraid you might suddenly collapse.

“Are you okay? That looked painful…” His voice rose several octaves. “Do you have any idea how terrifying that looked?”

“I’ve had plenty of practice at falling gracefully. Well, semi-gracefully,” you replied with a casual shrug.

Rafayel’s jaw dropped a fraction further. “Practice? You practice falling down stairs?” He made a wild gesture toward the staircase. “That wasn’t graceful in any way, semi or otherwise! That was terrifying!”

When you tried to brush past him, Rafayel gently grabbed your shoulders, looking straight into your eyes, his expression still a mixture of disbelief and concern.

“Seriously? You’re just going to walk that off like it’s nothing? Like you didn’t just do a full somersault down those stairs?” He squeezed your shoulders gently. “Even cats have the decency to look embarrassed when they fall.”

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “You scared me, you know? I thought I was about to witness a tragedy in five acts, complete with a dramatic finale at the bottom.”

“Would it make you feel better if I limped a little?” you asked with a mischievous smile. “I could throw in some groaning for dramatic effect. Maybe clutch my side like this?” You demonstrated with exaggerated theatrics.

Rafayel’s worried expression cracked slightly, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Don’t you dare mock me when I’m genuinely concerned about you,” he said, though the tension in his shoulders eased a fraction. “Though your theatrical skills need work. That limp was completely unconvincing.”

He continued to hover around you for the rest of the day, periodically reaching out to touch your arm or shoulder as if confirming you were still intact. Later, he appeared with an ice pack and painkillers.

“Just in case,” he said. “Also, I may have told everyone to clear a path when they see you coming. You know, for public safety.”

“Public safety or my safety?” you asked wryly.

“Both,” he grinned. “Clearly, stairs have declared war on you, and I refuse to let it win another round.”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

The sound of your tumble echoed through the corridor of Onychinus’s base. As you picked yourself up and continued walking as if nothing happened, Sylus, who had been observing from a few paces behind, arched a single eyebrow—a rare display of surprise crossing his features.

“Well,” he remarked at the unexpected scene he just witnessed. “Such a dramatic descent. I wasn’t aware you had an interest in impromptu acrobatics.”

“Just didn’t want to make a scene,” you replied, straightening your clothes casually. “Is my dignity still intact?”

The corner of his mouth quirked upward in a subtle smirk. “Your dignity? Perhaps partially. Your reputation for grace, however, may require some rehabilitation.”

He fell into step beside you, his usual smug smile returning as he studied your face with those piercing eyes, missing nothing.

“Most people would at least acknowledge their intimate encounter with a flight of stairs,” he commented, his tone casual yet observant. “Your nonchalance is either admirable or concerning. I haven’t decided which.”

“Would showing weakness earn me special treatment?” you asked, meeting his gaze with a challenging look of your own.

Something intrigued flickered in his eyes. “From me? Sure. Though I find your stubborn resilience equally fascinating.”

He reached out, straightening a piece of your disheveled clothing with his fingers, the touch lingering just long enough to assess for a reaction of pain.

“While I admire your endurance, even remarkable individuals such as yourself are subject to the laws of physics and biology,” he observed, his words carrying a subtle undercurrent of genuine concern beneath the calm exterior.

He gestured for you to continue walking with him, matching his pace to yours, watchful of any irregularity in your posture.

“I do hope you’re not concealing injuries for the sake of appearances,” he added after a moment. “While I appreciate your fortitude, I prefer my favorite person intact and functioning optimally.”

“If I admitted it hurt, would that satisfy your curiosity, Sylus?” you asked, your voice deliberately light.

His smile widened. “Curiosity? No. That requires a far greater mystery than your apparent immunity to staircases.” He paused, studying you with increased interest. “But my concern might be somewhat alleviated.”

“Next time,” he murmured, “perhaps consider taking the elevator if you don’t feel like walking.” His hand found the small of your back as you walked, the gesture appearing casual but actually allowing him to subtly assess if you were truly as unaffected as you claimed.

Later that evening, a package arrived, containing an ornate bottle of sophisticated bath salts. “For muscles that may protest their earlier mistreatment, despite your claims to the contrary. Consider it a reward for providing me with such an entertaining diversion to my otherwise mundane day.”

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The moment you hit the bottom step and stood up as if nothing happened, Caleb’s expression transformed into one of shock and concern. He was at your side in an instant, hands hovering near your shoulders as if afraid to touch you.

“What the—? That wasn’t just a stumble, that was a full disaster in motion,” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you serious right now? You just… fell down the entire flight of stairs.”

“It looked worse than it felt,” you assured him with a small smile. “I’m fine, really.”

Caleb’s eyes widened further, clearly not buying your casual dismissal. “Looked worse than—? It looked like you were auditioning for a role as a human slinky!”

When you tried to brush it off and keep walking, he stepped in front of you, his hands finally settling on your shoulders to stop your movement.

“No, no way,” he said firmly, his authority briefly showing through his normally relaxed persona. “You know normal people actually feel pain when gravity wins, right? You don’t just walk away from something like that.”

“Fine, check me for injuries if it’ll make you feel better,” you conceded with a sigh.

He guided you to a nearby chair, kneeling in front of you to check for any visible injuries. “What happened? Did you slip or something?” he asked, his voice softening with a hint of teasing returning.

His hands gently examined your arms and shoulders, careful not to hurt you further. “Look, I need to know you’re actually okay, not just pretending to be tough. Those stairs didn’t hold back, and neither should you if something hurts.”

“Fine, it hurts,” you admitted with a slight grimace. “Happy now? But I’m still walking away from it.”

“I knew it,” he sighed. “And no, I’m not happy you’re hurt. I’m happy you’re finally being honest about it.”

He finished his inspection, seemingly satisfied that you were fine, and sat beside you, one arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. “That was quite a fall, Pipsqueak. You scared the hell out of me,” he chuckled, but the worry hadn’t completely left his eyes. “Promise me you’ll be more careful next time, okay?”

“I promise to at least try to stay upright,” you said with a small smile.

“I suppose that’s the best I’m going to get from you,” he said, shaking his head with fond exasperation.

As you finally convinced him you were okay enough to continue your day, he helped you up, but didn’t let go of your hand, though you noticed he maintained a vigilant watch over you for the rest of the day, positioning himself on the stair side whenever you walked near any steps.

“Just in case gravity decides it wants another round with you,” he explained. “Next time, I might have to catch you. That would be more fun for both of us, don’t you think?”

“Next time I’ll just aim for you instead of the floor,” you replied with a grin.

“Deal,” he said instantly. “I’m much softer to land on than those stairs, guaranteed.”

Based on this request.

[ma7moudgaza2]

I am one of the sons of Al Shati refugee camp, and a survivor of Al Shifa hospital massacre. Does anybody care to hear my story?

I live in Gaza city, where my youth was taken from me.

On 7-10-2023 I was asleep, my biggest concern was waking up in time for the 8am lecture at my university.

I'm in Al-Shati camp, south of Gaza. I'm sure you've heard of it. Today is 26-11-2024, it's been more than a year, and I'm still living outside my house. I don't understand why this happened, or why I'm still not in my house.

About two weeks ago was the anniversary of our displacement from northern Gaza to the south and since that day we've known nothing but hardship.

The tent where we live is inhabitable and cannot support any form of life in this cold and this rain and this flooding.

Of all these terrors, the memory of our displacement is the bleakest of them all.

On 10-11-2023, we experienced two days of siege on Al Shifaa hospital, without food nor drink nor even light to see around us, feeling our way like we're blind in order to move around, because even our phones had run out of battery, not even knowing whether the occupation has invaded the hospital yet or not, all we hear is the sound of ceaseless bombardment within the hospital's perimeter.

We lost a lot of people that day. Those who were detained, those who were murdered, and those whose fates are unknown to this day.

We couldn't believe it when the morning finally came, and we finally fled the hospital, to walk 20 kilometers on our feet through Al Halabat path after two days with no food or drink.

This is the story of one of Gaza's sons. My story is not singular, but one of many stories that strengthen our conviction in our right to this land. Most of us here have died for this land.

Our condition today is horrible. This war is picking us off one by one. I am not willing to lose another member of my family. Causes of death are compounding, the latest of which is the cold and storms that the weather has brought.

With only 5 dollars, you can save me and my family's lives. If you can't donate, share this post so it can reach someone who can help us.

Today, with a significant drop in temperatures and a sharp rise in food prices, the price of a bag of flour has reached $600. Please help me so that I can feed my family.

Our current goal is 25k we now have only 22,6k .

@appsa @tsaricides @schoolhater @buttercuparry @feluka

@el-shab-hussein @wherethatoldtraingoes2 @nabulsi @sayruq @sar-soor

@tiredguyswag @gothhabiba @slydiddledeedee @kingskrazzyart @a-shade-of-blue

[victusinveritas]

Episcopal Bishop, Rev. Mariann Edgar Budde, publicly called out Trump to his face today at a service at the National Cathedral in Washington, DC. This was some next level Jesus-style calling out the powerful that you rarely see exampled anymore.

“Let me make one final plea, Mr. President. Millions have put their trust in you, and as you told the nation yesterday, you have felt the providential hand of a loving God. In the name of our God, I ask you to have mercy upon the people in our country who are scared now. There are gay, lesbian, and transgender children in Democratic, Republican, and independent families, some who fear for their lives. The people who pick our crops and clean our office buildings, who labor in poultry farms and meatpacking plants, who wash the dishes after we eat in restaurants and work the night shifts in hospitals, they may not be citizens or have the proper documentation, but the vast majority of immigrants are not criminals. They pay taxes and are good neighbors. They are faithful members of our churches and mosques, synagogues, gurdwara, and temples.

I ask you to have mercy, Mr. President, on those in our communities whose children fear their parents will be taken away, and that you help those who are fleeing war zones and persecution in their own lands to find compassion and welcome here. Our God teaches us that we are to be merciful to the stranger, for we were all once strangers in this land. May God grant us the strength and courage to honor the dignity of every human being, to speak the truth to one another in love, and walk humbly with each other and our God, for the good of all people, the good of all people in this nation and the world. Amen.”

[mercvry-glow]

It's never over

parings. jack abbot x reader

summary. after a fight with jack, you spend the rest of your night clubbing with some friends. unfortunately that choice lands you into your partners er.

warnings. implied age gap (jack late 40s, reader late 20s/early 30s), established relationship, jack and reader fight, reader gets drugged and creeped on, hospital setting, medical emergencies, reader is okay tho, accurate as possible medical talk, soft!jack eventually, angst and hurt/comfort, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. I can't believe this is my longest fic and I don't like it 😭 I do love them though, and I love the angst, I just think this wasn't my strongest so we'll see how I feel when I get some more of yall's opinions. as always any and all feedback is appreciated!

wc. 4100+

You were just finishing your makeup when you heard the shower turn off.

It was a quiet kind of hope that filled your chest—small and delicate, but real. It had been weeks since the two of you had a night off together. Back-to-back night shifts, emergency call-ins, 4 a.m. arguments whispered in the dark… it had all blurred into something numb. Something too heavy.

But tonight?

Tonight was supposed to be the reset button.

You stepped out of the bathroom, smoothing your dress down with your hands, a nervous flutter in your stomach. Something soft played from the speaker on your nightstand. The perfume you wore on your first date still lingered in the air.

Then you saw it.

Black scrubs. His badge clipped to the collar. Go-bag on the floor.

You froze.

Jack stepped into the room, towel around his shoulders, running a hand through damp curls. He paused the second he saw your face.

“Babe—”

“No,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please don’t say it, you didn’t…”

He glanced at the scrubs like he wished they’d disappear. “Shen called when you were in the shower. They’re short. Real short. Two nurses out and a doctor is MIA—he’s drowning.”

You blinked. “And you said yes.”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “He sounded desperate. I figured you’d—”

“You figured I’d be fine,” you cut in, hurt creeping into your voice. “Because it’s always me who has to make the compromise.”

“It’s one shift,” he said, already tugging on his top.

“It’s never just one,” you snapped, then caught yourself, hands tightening at your sides. “I got off three hours ago, Jack. I’ve been dragging myself through twelve-hour nights, sometimes more just like you. And the one time we both actually had a night off…”

He looked away. “This isn’t about us.”

“Isn’t it?” you said, your voice cracking. “Because it feels like it is.”

Silence pressed in between you.

“I get it,” you added. “I know what it’s like when the unit’s falling apart. I know what it’s like to be needed, to be the one that says yes every time. But God, Jack… when do I get to be your emergency?”

He stiffened.

“You think I want to do this?” he snapped suddenly. “You think I don’t feel it too? That I don’t want to just stay here, take you to dinner, act like our lives aren’t chaos 24/7?”

“Then why don't you?” you said, voice breaking. “Why is it always someone else who gets the best of you?”

He looked at you then, eyes tired, voice bitter. “Because they need me. You wouldn’t get it.”

Your heart stopped.

“What did you just say to me?”

He hesitated—too long. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

“No. Say it again,” you said, stepping back. “Say I don’t get it, Jack.”

Jack sighed, frustrated. “You know what I mean. You’re not—”

“Not what?” you snapped. “Not enough? Not capable of understanding? I work the same damn shifts as you do. I patch up the same wounds, hold the same dying hands—don’t you dare act like I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, but it was already too late.

You grabbed your bag, throat thick with hurt. “You want to play doctor, Jack? Fine. Go save Pittsburgh. But don’t expect me to sit here and wait again for whatever’s left of you after.”

He moved toward you, but you stepped around him, heart pounding in your chest.

“I gave you tonight,” you whispered at the door. “And you gave it away.”

And then you left—heels in your hand, dress still clinging to hope, the soft click of the door the only sound between you.

Things didn’t get much better after you left. 

The music thumped in your chest, the bass vibrating through the soles of your feet. It was loud. Too loud. But that was the point, right?

After the fight, after the disappointment and the sting of Jack’s words, you just needed something different. Something that would make you forget for a little while. So, when Marina and Kat suggested hitting the club, you agreed. You’d always enjoyed the energy, the people, the feeling of being free, even if just for a night.

So now you found yourself in a packed, dark club with flashing lights and bodies grinding against each other on the dance floor. You didn’t know exactly why you were here, but the thought of being home alone, stewing in anger and confusion, was too much to handle.

The girls were already lost in the crowd, their laughter cutting through the music as they grabbed drinks from the bar. You followed, trying to shake off the ache in your chest, the one that kept whispering that Jack should’ve been out with you, not  at work.

“Another round?” Kat asked, leaning close enough for you to hear over the beat.

You nodded, your eyes scanning the bar area, the chaos of the club almost soothing in its madness. The atmosphere was a welcome distraction, even though it wasn’t the night you’d planned. You hadn’t expected to feel so… hollow. Jack’s absence was like a weight pressing against your chest, and you were trying to ignore it. Trying to not think about how your plans had been shattered, how this whole night had been supposed to be different.

You made your way toward the bar, needing a moment of quiet, a break from the noise, when a guy approached. He was dressed in a tight shirt that seemed to shimmer under the club lights, his hair perfectly styled. He smiled at you, one that was too eager, almost practiced.

“Hey, I couldn’t help but notice you,” he said, leaning in just a bit too close. “I’m Alex. And you—wow. You look incredible.”

You forced a smile, taking a step back instinctively. “Thanks,” you said, trying to keep the interaction polite, your voice still a little stiff. “I’m just here with some friends.”

His smile didn’t falter. “I can tell, I just had to come over. I mean, with a woman like you, how could I not?”

You glanced around, hoping to spot either Marina or Kat, but the crowd was thick and you were feeling boxed in. “I’m not really looking for company,” you said, hoping that would be enough.

He didn’t take the hint. Instead, his hand moved closer to your arm, brushing against the bare skin of your shoulder.

“You sure? I’m just trying to have a good time, and you seem like you’re someone who knows how to enjoy herself,” he said, his voice dropping lower, almost a whisper. A chill ran down your spine. You weren’t sure if it was the way he said it or just how off his energy felt, but it made your stomach turn.

“I said no, thank you,” you said, trying to sound firm, but your words barely made it through the noise of the music.

He didn’t back off, though. His dark eyes raked over you like he was trying to figure you out, like you were some new prize to be won. “Come on, what’s the harm in just one drink? One dance?” He stepped in closer, his breath warm on your neck.

You shook your head, feeling the walls close in. Your palms were starting to get clammy, the tightness in your chest spreading. “I’m not interested,” you repeated, your voice sharper this time, but his grip on your arm tightened, just a little.

“Don’t be like that,” he said, his fingers brushing the strap of your dress. “You know you want to have some fun.”

That was it. The polite smile you’d been forcing finally slipped away. You wrenched your arm free from his grip, your voice loud and clear now.

“I said no,” you snapped, the force of your words cutting through the loud music.

His eyes flashed, surprised at your sudden change in tone, but then he just scoffed. “Fine, whatever,” he muttered, his expression turning into a sneer. “Guess I misread you.”

You didn’t even wait for him to finish walking away. You turned sharply, heart pounding in your chest, as you made your way back toward the dance floor. The excitement of the club had completely evaporated, replaced with the taste of bitterness and frustration.

You made your way back toward the dance floor, heart still racing, the heat of the club suddenly feeling suffocating. The beat of the music had lost its pull on you, replaced by the sting of unwanted attention and the frustration of a night gone wrong. You barely noticed the way the crowd shifted, how people pressed against you as you walked through them, each of them just another stranger in your path. You tried to shake the unease away, but it lingered like a shadow.

Marina and Kat, the only two familiar faces in this chaotic scene, were still at the bar, but you couldn’t muster the energy to go back to them just yet. You needed a moment alone, even if that meant getting lost in the crowd. You found a quiet corner at the edge of the room, trying to collect your thoughts, breathing in the air that smelled of alcohol and sweat, but it did little to calm the storm in your chest.

The drink you’d had earlier—a rum and coke—was still sitting in your hand. You’d been nursing it for most of the night, the ice now long melted, the liquid a watered-down version of what it had been when you first grabbed it at the bar. It wasn’t your favorite, but you didn’t mind. You hadn’t been focused on the drink anyway, just trying to keep the edges of your frustration from seeping through.

But now, as you took another sip, something felt off. Your stomach tightened, but not in the way it usually did after too much alcohol. It was deeper, almost hollow, like there was something foreign inside you. You set the drink down on the nearest table, trying to ignore the growing sense of unease gnawing at the back of your mind.

Your vision started to blur, the flashing lights of the club becoming a chaotic swirl of neon. The music, once a vibrant pulse beneath your skin, now felt distant—like you were hearing it from underwater. The pressure in your head built an oppressive weight that made it hard to think clearly. You stumbled slightly, your legs growing heavy, and it took all your effort just to stay standing.

You glanced around for your friends, but the crowd had thickened, and the girls were nowhere to be seen. Panic crept up your spine. You needed them. You needed someone to help. But the room felt like it was spinning now, faster and faster, and your body wasn’t cooperating with you anymore.

"Hey, are you okay?" A voice cut through the fog in your mind, but you couldn’t place where it came from. You tried to focus, to find the person speaking, but your vision darkened again, everything going black at the edges.

You blinked, trying to fight off the overwhelming dizziness, but it was useless. The world around you tilted, and the last thing you remembered was sinking to your knees, the floor rushing up to meet you.

The ER was chaotic as always.

Monitors beeped in staccato rhythms, stretchers lined the halls, and the air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the metallic tang of adrenaline. Jack hadn’t stopped moving since he walked in, not even long enough to get a proper cup of coffee. His scrubs still clung to his damp skin from the rushed post-shower change, and his muscles ached from tension he hadn’t had time to notice until now.

A code had just cleared. He stood in the corner of north three, charting with one hand, the other gripping a barely-sipped paper cup of coffee that had long gone cold. The flicker of a headache gnawed behind his eyes.

He shouldn’t be here.

His mind kept drifting—back to the house, to the way you looked in that dress, to the way your voice cracked when you said “when do I get to be your emergency?”

 God, that had hit harder than he’d let on.

And then he’d said the wrong thing—“You wouldn’t get it.” The words kept echoing back in his ears like a cruel joke. You did get it. Maybe more than anyone ever had.

He hadn’t checked his phone since you left. Couldn’t bring himself to. If you texted, he’d crumble. If you didn’t… Well, that was somehow worse.

“Dr. Abbot!”

Jack snapped out of it at the sound of John’s voice shouting down the hallway. He turned toward him, brows knitting together. Shen was already halfway across the ED, panting slightly, eyes wide.

“What is it?” Jack asked, already moving toward him.

“Overdose. Young woman—unknown age, female. Brought in from the strip district—some club off Penn. Unconscious on arrival, GCS dropped to six en route.”

Jack's jaw tightened. “ETA?”

“They just pulled up.”

Jack tossed his chart aside and strode toward the ambulance bay without another word, adrenaline already kicking in.

Shen jogged beside him. “Paramedics think her drink was spiked—GHB, maybe? Said she started seizing before they got her out of the club. Friends couldn’t find her at first—she was alone when they found her on the floor.”

Something twisted in Jack’s gut. He didn’t know why. Just a flicker of unease, a sick chill climbing up his spine.

The ambulance bay doors opened with a mechanical hiss. The flashing red lights reflected off the glass like warning signals in his head.

He stepped outside, heart thudding.

And then he saw her.

Or You.

Unconscious. Oxygen mask strapped to your still pretty face. IVs in both arms. Your dress—the dress you had bought—bunched awkwardly around your hips. One heel missing. A smudge of mascara on your cheek like a cruel reminder of what tonight was supposed to be.

The paramedic was shouting something, but Jack didn’t hear it. His vision tunneled. His world narrowed to just you—still, and small on the gurney.

“No,” Jack whispered, stepping forward, his breath catching in his throat. “No, no, no—”

He pushed through the medic, grabbing onto the rail of the stretcher.

“What happened?” he barked. His voice was hoarse, shaking.

“GHB suspected. Found alone. Low responsiveness. HR is unstable. She’s seizing on and off—”

Jack was already moving, wheeling you into trauma bay one. “Get Narcan ready just in case. Push fluids. Get me labs, tox screen, full workup. Page neuro for consult—now.”

He didn’t even care that his voice cracked. Didn’t care that every nurse and medic in that hallway was staring at him like he’d lost it.

Because he had.

You were his emergency now, and he was terrified he might be too late.

The doors slammed open with a bang as Jack wheeled you inside, every step fueled by sheer panic and clinical precision. His hands moved on autopilot, but his mind? His mind was screaming.

“She’s hypotensive,” a nurse called. “BP’s dropping—seventy over fifty.”

“Push fluids—hang a liter of LR, now. Get a second IV. 16-gauge if you can find a vein.”

Your head lolled to the side as the team lifted you onto the bed. Jack’s breath hitched.

“Jesus, she’s burning up,” he muttered, pressing his palm to your forehead. “Get her temp.”

“102.6,” Shen called.

“Possible serotonin syndrome or stimulant combo,” Jack said quickly. “Start cooling measures. Ice packs under the arms. Get a foley—need accurate output.”

A nurse moved to cut the dress from your body, but Jack put his hand out. “Don’t—” His voice cracked again. He paused, swallowed, forced the words out through gritted teeth. “Let me.”

No one argued. Everyone knew—this wasn’t just another patient, you were one of them, you were jack’s. His slightly trembling hands carefully unzipped the side of your dress, easing it off your shoulders and down. He fought to keep his face unreadable, but his throat felt raw, his stomach twisting into knots. The scent of your perfume—the one you wore on your first date—still lingered faintly in the air.

“Vitals?” he barked, refocusing as nurses applied leads to your chest.

“HR 122. O2’s eighty-nine but climbing. BP’s coming up a little.”

Jack leaned over you, brushing damp hair from your forehead. Your lashes fluttered, just barely. A flicker of awareness behind your lids.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered, not caring who heard. “Stay with me. I’m right here. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

You stirred faintly, a tiny groan slipping past your lips.

“Hey, hey—it’s me,” he said, brushing his knuckles gently along your cheek. “You’re in the ER. You’re safe now, alright? I got you.”

Your eyes opened a crack, glassy and unfocused. You blinked slowly, clearly struggling to process. And then—

“J…Jack?” you croaked, barely above a whisper.

He exhaled, choking on relief.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said quickly, squeezing your hand. “I’m right here. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

You blinked again, trying to sit up, but your body betrayed you. “What… happened?”

“You were drugged,” Jack said gently. “Spiked drink. Club downtown. Do you remember anything?”

You shook your head faintly, then winced as pain rolled through you. “I—he—there was this guy… he wouldn’t leave me alone…”

Jack’s jaw tightened. Fury flared behind his eyes, but he pushed it down.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured, brushing some hair out of  your face. “Don’t worry about that right now. You’re here. You’re safe.”

“Y-you were supposed to be at work,” you mumbled, confusion clouding your voice.

His heart cracked clean in half.

“I am. But they brought you in,” he whispered, gripping your hand tighter. “They brought you in… and everything else stopped.”

He didn’t realize his hands were shaking until your hand weakly squeezed his.And for the first time that night, Jack let himself fall apart—just a little. Because you were the emergency. And nothing else mattered now.

After an hour of working on you, Jack stood at the foot of your bed, hands braced on his hips, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest. Monitors beeped in steady rhythm. The IV pumped fluids into your system, and you were stable now—groggy but safe.

It had been the longest hour of his life..

He didn’t realize how tight his jaw had been until he stepped out of the trauma bay and let the door swing closed behind him. He needed a second. Just one.

But that’s when he saw them—Marina and Kat, hovering near the nurses' station down the hall like two ghosts.

They looked like hell. Club makeup smudged, heels in their hands, eyes wide and red-rimmed. They’d followed the ambulance but hadn’t pushed forward until now.

When Jack made eye contact with them, they froze. The hallway felt too quiet, the tension snapping taut.

He moved toward them with slow, deliberate steps. His face was unreadable—too calm to be safe.

“You two were with her.” His voice wasn’t angry, not exactly. But it carried the weight of someone barely holding it together. “So tell me what happened.”

Kat opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Marina stepped in instead, her voice small. “We didn’t know. Jack, we—we didn’t know. She just said she needed a minute and went to the bar. We were right there.”

“She was alone,” Jack said, his tone still deceptively even. “Long enough for some asshole to slip something in her drink.”

“We didn’t see anyone,” Kat said, her voice cracking. “We were watching her an-and then she was gone until someone screamed. She collapsed. We thought—Jesus, we thought she just had too much to drink, but she only bought one.”

Jack closed his eyes for a beat, dragging a hand over his face.

“She didn’t,” he muttered. “Tox screen lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. Probably in that one drink she barely touched.”

Marina blinked, horrified. “She said it didn’t taste right. Said it was too sweet.”

“She was trying to be safe,” Jack said, his voice tightening. “Did everything right. Still ended up in my fucking ER, barely coherent.”

Neither of them had anything to say to that. Because what could you say?

“I should’ve been with her,” Jack added quietly, more to himself than to them. “We were supposed to have tonight. And I left.”

Marina stepped forward cautiously, soft as always. “She didn’t blame you, Jack. She didn’t even say your name like she was mad. She just—she was looking for you.”

That hit harder than it should’ve. Jack’s throat worked as he swallowed, glancing back at the trauma room door behind him.

“She’s sleeping now,” he said finally. “Out of the woods.”

“Can we… see her?” Kat asked gently.

Jack nodded. “Just be quiet. She might not wake up for a while.”

Marina hesitated, then touched Jack’s arm, tentative. “She loves you, you know that. Don’t let tonight be the thing that breaks you both.”

Jack didn’t answer, but something in his expression softened—just barely. The steel cracked for a second, showing the man underneath. The one who hadn’t left her side. The one who never would.

And then he stepped back toward the door, glancing once more at the monitor inside.

“Tell her I’m here,” he said. “When she wakes up…”

The soft beeping of the monitor was the first thing you heard. It was steady, rhythmic, almost comforting, but it felt like the sound was a distant echo, like you weren’t quite sure where it was coming from. Your eyes fluttered open, blurry at first, the room around you coming into focus slowly.

Your head throbbed with a dull ache, a tightness in your chest pulling at your breath. Something felt wrong—like the world had shifted just slightly, leaving you off-balance.

Then, the scent of antiseptic and faint, stale coffee mixed with the familiar one that had always been home to you: Jack.

Your eyes scanned the dimly lit room. There, sitting at your side, was Jack—his back to you as he slumped in a chair, his hand resting near yours on the bed. His posture was stiff, but there was something in the way his shoulders hung, the way his breath came a little too fast, that told you he wasn’t just tired.

He was worried.

You tried to speak, but your throat felt dry, raw. You croaked out a faint sound, and Jack snapped to attention, immediately leaning forward. His eyes met yours, and there it was—the instant relief, mixed with guilt, storming across his features.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice hoarse. “Hey, look at me. You’re okay.”

You tried to say something, but your voice wouldn’t cooperate. You croaked again, your hand weakly reaching for his.

Jack’s fingers tightened around yours, warm and steady. His thumb traced over the back of your hand as if to reassure both of you.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve been with you.”

You blinked, your mind sluggish as it pieced things together. You could barely remember what had happened. The night, the club, the man at the bar, the drink…The wave of nausea hit you, and you squeezed his hand harder. He immediately noticed.

“Take it easy,” he said, his free hand brushing a few stray hairs from your forehead. “You’ve been through a lot.”

It wasn’t just the physical toll—it was everything else. The confusion, the anger, the heartbreak.

“I… I didn’t…” You stopped, your throat closing up. The words didn’t come out easily, but Jack was right there, waiting patiently.

“You didn’t deserve this,” he said gently, like he could hear everything you couldn’t say. “I know. I should’ve done better. I should’ve been with you.”

You squeezed his hand again, the weight of his words and your own swirling in the space between you. The thought of him taking the blame—the one who had stayed behind, who had always put in the work—was almost too much.

And you didn’t have the strength to argue.

“You’re here,” you whispered finally, eyes barely open. “That’s all I need right now.”

Jack’s chest tightened at that, his eyes darkening as he bent closer, brushing his lips against your forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. “I’ll never do that to you again.”

Your heart gave a flutter at his words, and though your head was still spinning, your chest felt just a little lighter.

A quiet comfort settled between you, something unspoken but deeply understood. For all the chaos of the world outside, for all the mistakes and regrets, you knew that together, you’d get through it.

And for tonight, that was enough.

mercvry-glow 2025