#yesterday I was seeing one of my doctors and they asked about a test a different doctor had had me do

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I’ll have gone out and done something social one day and be like “I was so normal about everything today, I would get such a good grade in socializing, something that is normal to want and possible to achieve”

then when I’m in bed trying to sleep my brain will bring up every slip up of the day

[x-birdsong-x]

edit: vent. tag rant vent.

feel like i'm just gonna go to bed one of these nights and be dead in the morning. i want to know what the fuck is wrong with me

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ TROPHY

tw. noncon, yandere, explicit gore, lobotomy, blood, pain, power imbalance, doctor kink, badly aged terms about mental health, domestic abuse mentions, somno implications, praise, choking wordcount. 4.7k

a/n. ♡ i realized all my iwa fics were mostly really fluffy and sweet, so here's a gross one. gotta keep up my reputation yk! tysm to the betas ily ily ily

iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

The doctors have been standing around in a circle for what feels like hours, scraping their pens against the paper. Each check, each prodding, probing touch feels like it’s going on for the sake of going. Hours today, hours yesterday, on and on into infinity. Your skin feels cold, and you fidget by rubbing your fingers against each other for the briefest spark of warmth, before that too fizzles out into nothing. Because that’s what this is, right? A cold, barren nothingness that swallows up every inch of your body.

You can barely remember the look of the sky outside the metal barred walls that keep you, only catching glimpses that pass too quickly. Or the feeling of warm sunlight shining on your face as you rest against the windowsill, watching cars go by. The brief flash of a memory crosses over your view, a hot summer day and your hair sticking to your neck. Hands winding down your shoulders to keep you in a comfortable embrace, and a kiss to your cheek.

It’s nothing like the cold, sterile walls that you’re looking up at now, sitting on the cold metal stretcher with your wrists wrapped in leather. This is all you are now. This is what keeps you separate from the nutcases in the other wing. Little threat of re-offending.

One of the older men pushes his small, round glasses higher up his nose as he approaches, and waves a light past your eyes a few times, snapping his fingers all the while. “Any lightheadedness? Dizziness? Spots in your vision to be concerned about?” You wouldn’t know it with the callous way he regards you, but apparently they’re trying to help. That’s what they say, when they drag you out of your cage. The burning of the light makes your eyes water, but you blink that wetness away as best as you can.

“No, Doctor.”

The graying man runs his eyes along the sheet on his clipboard, and then his mouth corners pull down, as a few of the other equally graying men start mumbling among each other again, feeling far off. Everything feels far off with the stuff they’ve been putting in you lately. More drugs. More tests. It all feels like a never ending cycle — even though the sane part of you knows it isn’t. Or, wasn’t, until you bit one of the men who tried to lead your face to his crotch with the threat of beating you to death. You bit so hard that they had to amputate, is what you heard, before they shot you full of cotton.

And you’d cry, if you were any more awake. The tears don’t spill, they just sit on your vision and wobble at best. What all of the men in this room see when they look at you, is a violent young killer. They ask you about it when you’re shot up with fluids until you can barely hold your eyes open, and you have to pretend to really hear them. To be remorseful. How can you, when you can’t even remember your own face? You forget your name seconds after they call it. And most frustrating of all, is that you do remember that you can’t remember. This is forever, no matter how little threat there is of re-offending now that they’ve ‘found’ the right mix of chemicals to knock you out like a light.

They say you killed your fiancé with a kitchen knife.

You might have… the honest truth is that you don’t know. The pictures look entirely foreign, even though that face, that mouth, that tear-stricken expression is supposedly you. You don’t remember getting your head smashed against the kitchen counter until blood coated the entire bottom half of your face, and trying to get away. You don’t remember grabbing the knife and plunging it into your fiancé’s collar, or anything that came after it either. It’s like the blood running out of your nose got clogged up and now, you can’t recall anything at all.

Just these gray walls, and the cold floor of your ‘room’, and the brief walks you’re allowed to take outside under the cloudy weather that always surrounds the criminal hospital. All these men standing before you know more about you than you do yourself. More wetness wells up in your eyes, but it doesn’t spill. You don’t feel violent. But you also can barely hold your head up without the support of the metal brace, and they say you did what you did. At this point, your thoughts are too heavy and slow to disprove any of it, pooling in your mouth with your spit— and gliding down your throat each time you risk choking when you swallow.

“How about we call it for today?” A coarse voice sounds from the far off confines of the cloudiness that the drugs leave you with. But it’s a voice that sparks something yet, accompanied by the only young face that you’ve seen in a while. He’s tall and dark haired and intense, but looks too at ease when he walks along, stopping a few feet short. Everyone else looks like you’re a wild animal. But he’s warmer, like sand after a long day of baking in the sun. “You’ve done well,” he almost smiles at you, then turns to them. “That’s alright, isn’t it? My patient’s been awfully accommodating with all the tests.”

He carries this air about him that’s more familiar, where his hand lands on the top of your head and he gently brushes your crown in circles. You feel your head bobbing because of the pressure, and your eyes heavier than before. When you gain more awareness again, you’re already back in the small four walls that keep you enclosed— and the Doctor is crouched before you. Beautiful greens stare into your eyes, a few fingers holding your chin up. It’s warm. Your mouth feels dry and cottony when you speak, and hold your eyes open as best you can. “Sir.”

“Hm?” His free hand slides something into your ear, that’s cold and beeps softly, before he looks again. “Do you know where you are? Do you know who I am?” After a bit of silence, he sighs, and you smell the musk of him, mixed with some cologne that stings your lungs a little. But it’s better than nothing, and your mouth waters like you’re really just a dog. “Your bouts of amnesia have been getting worse lately, hm, sweet girl? Naturally…” His fingers go from holding your head up to along your throat, brushing hot circles there for just a few seconds, before he takes the beeping tool out again. “I’m your main physician here, remember? You asked for me specifically.”

That seems to bring him a lot of pride, because when he hangs back more onto his heels, he gives you a tooth-aching smile. “Dr. Iwaizumi Hajime.” You suppose he wants to see some kind of recognition, but you’re not sure what to say. Aside from the vaguest hint of recognition of the handsome planes of his face, everything stays that same muddled sea of glue that you can’t pull your feet out of. You do your best to smile though, muscles aching.

“Oh, yes.”

“Are you still feeling ill?” he turns to his box of tools, and you slump along the wall as soon as he lets you go. Not enough to topple over, but enough to feel more like a filled sack of sand, than a human. “Still having hot flares?” He places his large palm over your forehead, and scans your expression once over again. “If it were up to me they wouldn’t pump you full of this shit, y’know. Sadly even your personal physician doesn’t have full say over that, of course, so I have to play nice with the other doctors.” Then he cups your cheek, and though maybe you’d shy away otherwise, the kind touch of another human being has your bottom lip wobbling. “There she is. You’ve been awfully docile these last few weeks. Haven’t heard you make a peep.”

The tone shifts to one of slightly more concern, and your heavy lids flutter. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t, sweetheart.” He starts packing up his things ever so neatly when you just start getting feeling back in your fingers— and you probably shouldn’t, but with enormous effort you manage to grab onto the bottom of his white coat, surprising the doctor enough that it goes quiet. You just want… to talk to another person a little longer. Does that make you a bad patient? Your tongue is molten against the bottom of your mouth, but your fingers still tighten clumsily into the fabric.

Dr. Iwaizumi only thinks for a moment when heat creeps up to his ears, before he closes the gap. Closes the gap and … has your mouth against his, a wet tongue that isn’t your own invades your space like it isn’t anything at all, and spit that mixes with yours as your lips are opened with some effort. He kisses on you, licks into your mouth as you let your eyes fall shut and your hand clings onto him -unsure where to go- to flee. And get kissed deeply, passionately, your head knocked against the wall at your back. But he’s warm, and your goosebumps let up for the first time, even as he doesn’t allow you to pull back with both hands around your cheeks. Not until your body automatically starts making a noise, and you start to struggle.

You gasp out for air like you’ve forgotten where it goes— but the brunet barely leaves you any space at all, as a string of spit breaks between you two. And he wipes his thumb over your bottom lip, before sliding it onto your tongue with a gravelly moan. “Ahh, I missed you.” The pressure of his thumb keeping your wiggling tongue in place is suffocating. He leans in to brush his nose and lips along your jaw and cheek. “Always miss you when I have to go.” There’s a soft kiss that tingles across your face, before he pulls back. The noises of other cells echo down the hall, and though you can’t see them, the yelling gets louder. He doesn’t even blink, though. Is this yet another thing you’ve forgotten about?

Judging by the way he takes his thumb out of your mouth to slide it into his own, and then looks at you with such love-stricken adoration, you must have. Your shell-shocked quiet doesn’t stop him from giving you another barely-hidden smile, and he brushes his knuckle under your eye to get rid of some wetness there. “I’ve got to go check up on some others, or else they’ll come looking for me.” He packs up the last of his tools, wiping them clean, before tracing his eyes along your features again. “You’re such a doll. Can’t believe you have to be locked up here.” He stands, then clicks his tongue as he seems to stare through the walls with narrowing brows. “I handled you just fine before, didn’t I?”

You can’t say anything. Not only because you’re still bursting with adrenaline, but it’s not like you remember. He seems to come to this conclusion at the same time, because he then softly laughs. “Ah, you wouldn’t know. Forget I said anything.” He takes a moment to adjust himself in his pants unashamed, then tucks his shirt back properly in— clinging to his built figure too much. With another pat on your crown, he nods. “You’ll start waking up more in an hour or so. I’ll be back.”

With that he leaves you behind, and the heavy metal door gets slid back into place before you get the chance to make another peep. And tears well back up before he even locks the hatch.

+

The darkness of the room is in sharp contrast with the bright overhead light that’s beaming down on your face. You can’t help it, you’re trashing against the straps that hold you to the table, and the rag that’s in your mouth does nothing to prevent the feeling of sheer panic that takes over you. As several white shapes roam around you with low commands that you can’t make out over the sound of your own crying, you miss the numbing. It was better when you couldn’t feel a thing at all -at least then you wouldn’t be choking on your own tears as you try to take deep breaths.

Everything’s blurry.

But the slight edge in one of the voices pulls for attention, trying to focus on the sound. If you can’t see through your tears, you can listen. “Aren’t we being too hasty? Her memory and attention span have been basically stagnant since June— which means she’s not worsening.” There’s that voice that has been chasing you every waking hour of the last -week, maybe more- rough and low, but comforting nevertheless. You can tell that one of the blurry white shapes moves closer to you, and try to angle yourself to get closer. Even an inch closer would be better.

“No offense Doctor, but your judgment has been overruled. You’re speaking solely out of personal care for the girl.” Another old voice cuts in. “She’s been deteriorating every day, and we simply do not have the funding, Iwaizumi. The only reason we’re allowing you here is for educational purposes. But don’t forget you’re still on probation until the end of this year.”

A hand wraps around your own, feeling much warmer than you are. You cling to it with all the strength you have. Sadly it isn’t much. Your fingers barely obey your will to curl back around the touch, the only thing that’s keeping you tethered to the real world. “I’ll take personal responsibility for her, Sir. She’s been improving in my care—”

“Enough of this.” The older voice cuts in. “Like I said, you have been overruled. This is the quickest and cleanest cure for violent insanity in women.” You can’t help but start thrashing against the binds, and try to speak around the gag that keeps your mouth jerked open, but nothing other than a soft crying comes out. You’re not sure if it’s the panic or the drugs anymore. Multiple of the men round on the table, and you’re pressed down deeper into the leather covering. You don’t want to hurt anyone again. Promise. Promise. Your arms are held down, and your forehead’s pressed down too.

“She bit a guard’s finger clean off. We can’t possibly justify not treating such a danger.” None of this is my fault, you think— but they have yet to ask you. They have yet to listen. You suddenly have an overwhelming sense of loneliness, remembering flashes of faces you must have loved. People who must have loved you - though you can’t recall them. There’s an awful scraping noise as the metal tool table is rolled closer, and some man with a mask dips into your view.

You never meant to hurt anyone.

You’re bawling now. The adrenaline pumps through your veins as you stare up at the light, then swallow around the gag. There’s some more rummaging as the warm touch leaves your hand, and you sniffle. You squeeze your eyes closed tightly. A wet wipe is dragged over your eyes without warning, swiping your hot tears away, and finally your wiggling stops. There’s no use. The leather’s digging into your skin, and the sad moaning that you can bring out doesn’t convince any of these men that you’re sane. Maybe you’re not. Would you even know it? They clean your face with rough swipes, and then something even more restrictive is placed over your head. “Alright, she’s sanitized.” You try not to choke on your hiccups. “Surgery in session. Doctor...”

You just want to go home. You want to go home, please.

There’s a prick under your brow that takes you by surprise. It’s sharp, and though you can’t feel it sting like it would without any drugs— it’s still uncomfortable. The gear around your face keeps you from moving, keeping you stuck to the table, but your breathing instinctively gets more shallow, and rapid. Before you can say, or do, or think, a loud smack knocks your head back and heat spills all over your face. A push so hard against your skull that makes your body tense so tight your bones feel like splintering. The pressure’s unbearable— more than just painful, it’s a loud thumping, shaking your entire skull. You want them to stop.

Pain, p-p-pain rocks you upside down.

The pain ebbs in over your entire face —suffocating you from the inside, like a knife’s being wedged along the inside of your eye socket— scraping, and the blood’s everywhere. Streaming all over your face and swelling your eyes and cheeks and head. Your nose is full of it, forcing you to choke down the thick coppery heat. It grinds before it snaps, and the resonating clack of your bone giving in is loud enough to deafen everything else. It hurts. It hurts. You’re sleepy. Sick and in pain and wired too tight all at once, not able to think before another thump knocks you over the head and your head vibrates until it explodes. Or not.

Please stop.

it hur-ts. hurts.

It floods your ears with static, indescribable pressure, and worms deeper until everything’s black - out like a lightswitch.

…

He feels bad.

They’re jamming the metal rod deeper and shaking it hard enough to rock your head. Your poor, pretty face mangled and covered in a fresh, red-hot coating that will be his job to clean up later. Iwa’s breath is bated, and the coppery tang sticks to his lungs.

+

The halls echo with his rhythmic steps. Iwaizumi hates the smell of this place, treated air that circles around a thousand times before getting out. He hates the monotonous routine of it all— and he hates above all else that people are constantly on his back to leave you for some retarded nut that takes up all of his patience. But he is a Doctor. It’s expected of him, and if he gets fired before you get discharged - what was the point. He gets to your door, that familiar door with the pretty sticker of your name, and pushes in with the creaking of the metal. You’re still on the bed, barely looking up, and in some ways it hurts his heart a little.

He hadn’t really meant for it to go this way. All he ever wanted was to be near you. To have you close enough to touch and smell and hold, and for a moment after the judges’ ruling, he got his wish. With a procession that dumped you inside the barbed walls of the hospital, he’d volunteered to oversee you - and every other doctor was swamped enough not to blink twice. He’d worked so hard to get you right here— your pretty face cupped in his hands, getting to kiss you, long to come back to you each evening he’d lock up.

But then you had to bite one of the guards. He isn’t even mad about it either. The sweaty, mustached swine had been eyeing you from the second you came in, and you’d protected yourself so valiantly for such a sweet, little thing.

But it did throw a wrench into his works -  and everything kept spiraling.

“Hello doll, I missed you.” He breathes out, then pulls you upright onto the bed when you face him. “Are you hurting? Are you feeling sick?” The bruising around both eyes has gone down entirely, but there’s still a ghost of color painting your eye sockets. Still, your eyes follow his voice, but you don’t respond. He wraps his arms around your shoulders. “No? That’s good. You’re looking much better today.” You’re so warm against him, and your scent floods him as he nuzzles into your cheek with a smile. It’s not like he’s happy with this outcome. He didn’t want this to happen.

 “I’ve been thinking about you all week while you’ve been in the ICU. Missed you,” he places both hands on your face, making you smile just slightly, before kissing you on the mouth. You don’t really react, but you don’t push him away either. He kisses, and kisses, only taking brief moments between to look at you. “So much. Missed you so much. My sweet girl.” As you sit still and quiet, smiling, he can’t help but imagine taking you home already. You’ll be discharged soon enough, judging by your recovery— and when you do, all your family will have gone. Moved, or have passed away, or simply too old to be caretakers. And hey, he’s more than proven himself capable of caring.

“Do you want to kiss me more?” he asks as he leans down to you a little, capturing your attention again. “Yeah? You want to kiss more?”

“Kiss,” you parrot, and your pretty smile brightens. Fuck, he loves you. He’s not been able to stop since the day he first met you. Of course he’ll indulge you. Last time he allowed himself to let loose, things didn’t end so well. But that was before, and now he’s made very sure that no one will interrupt you both. His mouth meets yours as you sit still like a doll, nice and polite, and he opens your lips with his own, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You taste so fucking good. Maybe it’s his almost compulsive imagining leading up to this moment throughout the week, but there’s nothing better. You taste sweet and let him lead you back as he wraps your arm around him, pulling you closer.

Your arms hang limply around his waist, but no matter. It’s not like that’s stopped him before. He takes a quick scan of your fluttering lashes before you open your mouth, and he leans back in to kiss you again. Tongue sliding in to taste all of you until his entire body feels tight and his cock is so hard it’s starting to hurt against his pants. You simply oblige when he starts pushing you back onto the bed. “Back, back, back, that’s a good girl. Such a good, pretty girl for me.” His hands slide down your shoulders, over your chest as his breathing catches, and then settle at your hips to pull your butt closer to the edge. And you are pretty. It’s almost a bit unfair how good you look with your eyes half lidded and a barely there smile on your cheeks that makes him all warm inside.

“Do you know what I’m doing? What we’re gonna do?” he asks after a few seconds, and despite feeling horrible -he really does- his cock twitches when you shake your head a few times. He slides your flimsy blue gown up your thighs a bit, and moans at the sight of the smooth soft skin revealed to him. “That’s okay. I’ve got you.” Fuck, you make him feel like a timid virgin all over again, looking so damn erotic splayed out before him with no shame. He wonders if before, you’d have blushed. If you’d have whined and played coy, or if you’d have been so damn needy for his presence that you’d spread your legs for him even easier.

This is more than good enough though. He undoes his belt with slightly shaky hands, feeling the heat of your body on his skin, and then shoves a hand down his pants to take out his awfully throbbing cock. When he takes your thigh into his hand again and squeezes, you make a little moan that sounds almost like a purring cat- leaning into the warmth of his touch. His throat closes up, but he forces out a sentence as he leans in. “I’m just going to stick my hot cock inside you- you like that, don’t you? Fill you up, get nice and close?” Iwa’s mouth’s basically watering as he kisses you. He’s unable to help it. “Yeah, you like that. I know you do, pretty girl.”

He wraps a hand around the thick shaft and gives it a few slow pumps, biting back a moan. Then he sinks to his knees to hike your legs up over his shoulders and thumbs over your pussy a few times. Clear slick makes you all wet and sticky, drooling pussy waiting for his touch. He doesn’t make you wait long, because his tongue swipes out to lick up against you— sliding the wet muscle over your pussy and rubbing over the sensitive nub at the top. You let out a slight moan, and your legs twitch as he continues, licking and sucking and abusing your poor, needy cunt by rough fingers that trail around your hole before just barely slipping in to stretch you out. “Look so good, baby. You always look so good.”

“I knew,” he gets up from the floor to stand back between your legs, “that you’d still be a needy whore. Your pussy needs me even when you’re sleepy, so- fu-agh-” His cock brushes up against you as he lines up, and leans into you to grab a handful of your tits. “Can you say ‘thank you’?” You whine instead, and sort of wiggle in place, like you can’t articulate what you need. But he gets it by the way you grind yourself against the flushed, swollen head of his cock, and your mouth hangs open desperately. “Say ‘thank you for taking care of me, Doctor’,” he breathes out, while pushing into that tight, hot pussy that instantly clings to him.

You whimper, and he laces one of your hands with his by force, pulling you closer, deeper onto his cock as he slides in inch by inch. You feel so fucking good, hot enough to make his entire brain cloudy. Fuck. “I missed you so much, baby. You feel so fucking good- god.” You’re squeezing around him hard enough to make it hard to keep back the groans that spill out of him involuntarily. It’s almost like you’re doing it on purpose, but one glance at those teary, far-off eyes tells him more than you could, yourself. “Come on, say ‘thank you’. I know you can.” He winds his other hand around your soft throat and squeezes a little, until your back curls off the table and his cock bottoms out, nice and snug in the tight pouch of your tummy.

“Than’  you-” you slur back when he shakes your face a little, and though it’s a weak whimper, it’s enough to make him shudder.

“That’s a good pet- fuck. Agh-uh, my precious girl.” He pulls back and slides in again harder and deeper, speeding up the rhythm of the bed clanging against the wall. You know, he’d feel bad. He would— but your pussy’s sucking him in so deep, and your legs wrap around his thighs like you want to be even closer, like you’re still enjoying it. He leans in to kiss you again, and whispers your name like you’re cherished. You are. Each time he pulls back, more slick and wetness spills and makes the place you’re meeting into a mess, tits bouncing.

He hikes one of your legs up to your side instead, dangling over his arm to get closer, fuck you even deeper. And even you must feel the change, because you start moaning and wiggling despite yourself- as his cock fills you up again and again, bumping up against the soft heat of your walls. “You can still cum, can’t you?” His jaw clenches, and he reaches between your two sweaty bodies with messy circles over your puffy clit, unable to hold out for much longer. You’re just squeezing so fucking tight. “Cum, cum on my cock- gh-that’s it. That’s what you’re best at, aren’t you, baby~” God, you’re going to make him knock you up. Always clinging to him so fucking tight.

Your walls clench hard enough to make him see double, and before he’s even got the chance to pull out, hot ropes of cum fill you up until you’re sucking him dry.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Sound

Steph Catley x Baby!Reader

Summary: Steph talks with Macca

The rest of the Tillies crowd around you when Steph settles in a seat.

She'd left training early last night to pick you up and sign the paperwork and had slept in. She was lucky Tony was so accommodating. This was a big moment and she's glad that she's got you now.

The idea of adopting hadn't been on Steph's mind at all until she'd finished a game and looked up to see a little girl holding a sign that said 'This is my adoption day present'.

There was something about it that got Steph thinking. It hadn't crossed her mind once and then all of a sudden it was all she could think about. The process was long and she was constantly flying back and forth from England to Australia to sort everything out.

"How old is she?" Mini asks.

"Six months," Steph replies, smiling down at you.

"You're going to be a great mum, Steph. If you need any help just call. I'd be happy to babysit for a bit."

"I can't ask you to do that. Really, it's-"

"Trust me," Mini laughs, patting her on the shoulder," Give it a few weeks and you'll see why I offered." Her eyes are drawn behind Steph's shoulder. "Kyra! Charli! Stop teaching Harper bad habits!"

More of her teammates come up to fawn over you but Steph's waiting in anticipation for one in particular.

You seem unbothered by all the noise, something almost everyone comments on and Steph has to offer them all a forced smile as she rocks you back and forth and pulls silly faces to make you giggle.

"You wanted to talk?" Mackenzie says as she falls back next to Steph," You sounded pretty serious. You're not dying are you?"

"No...Macca...I was wondering if I could get some advice."

"If it's about changing position then I don't recommend goalkeeper. If it's about this little angel, then I'm not sure I'm much help either."

"I think you are." Steph isn't quite sure why she's treating it like it's some big secret. Everyone will know eventually but it's personal right now and she doesn't want anyone prying.

"Steph, you're scaring me a little."

"You know when you found out about your hearing loss, did you feel like learning auslan would help?"

Macca's brow furrows. "Why would..." Her eyes drift down to you. Somewhere across the room, Kyra and Charli shriek. It's enough to catch everyone off guard, heads automatically turning to the source of the noise but you don't react in the slightest. "Oh."

"She failed her first AOAE test and then the second one too. She failed her ABR test too."

Macca reaches out gently as Steph looks at her with wide eyes. "Is it complete hearing loss or is she hard of hearing like me?"

"Like you. I've...I've got baby hearing aids for her..." Steph digs around in her pocket to bring out a little blue case decorated with whichever stickers caught your eye when she got you yesterday. You'd smacked a few of them when Steph presented them to you and she had stuck them onto the case. She pops it open to reveal the aids.

Honestly, Mackenzie didn't even know that you could give babies hearing aids.

"She doesn't really like them though. The doctor said to keep them in whenever she's awake but...She really doesn't like them sometimes and I don't want her teased when she goes to school."

"It's different," Macca says eventually as she watches your whole face be taken over by a yawn," I was much older when I found out. I knew how to speak and communicate. I...I don't think it could hurt to learn it with her although if you're staying with Arsenal long-term then you should probably do a bit of bsl too, just to be safe."

"Right, yes."

Steph had known about your hearing loss for months now. Some of the workers assigned to you had tried to warn you away from her because of it. They made you out to be a difficult case or defective in some way.

But Steph thought you were a little angel.

You were so perfect and sweet and she wanted to adopt you even though everyone told her that there were better, hearing babies to choose from.

But you had endeared her from the moment you met, smacking blocks together and chewing on your fingers.

"You should put her hearing aids in though," Mackenzie says," She'll get used to them eventually but they're no help if she's not wearing them. Did they teach you how?"

Steph nods. "Yeah."

"Can you teach me? Girls like us have to stick together. I can't believe they make ones that small."

That shocks a laugh out of Steph as she sits you upright to slip your hearing aids on.

You whine a little when they're turned on, scrunching up your face at all of the noise you can suddenly hear.

"Yeah," Macca laughs at your annoyance," It was like that for me too. It's so strange that people just regularly hear so much."

You turn your head towards her when she speaks, the first time she's seen you react to noise at all and giggle, kicking your feet.

Steph beams as she stands you up on her thighs and kisses your chubby baby cheeks, blowing a few raspberries on them for good measure.

"Can we play with the baby now?" Kyra asks, suddenly barrelling into the quiet moment," Please?"

"No, Kyra," Steph says with an eye roll," You can play with my angel after camp. You'll be seeing a lot of her back in London."

"Please? I'm really responsible! I take care of Harper all the time!"

In sync, Steph and Mackenzie both watch as Charli goads Harper into rolling off the table. Thankfully, Mini is there to catch her just in time.

"That wasn't my fault! Charli was watching her!"

"Go and play with Harper, Kyra," Steph says," This angel needs a little nap so she can greet her adoring fans at dinner. Maybe, if you're good, you can help feed her."

Kyra walks off in a huff as Steph gets up from her seat.

"Steph," Macca calls out as Steph starts to get ready to put you down for a nap," My audiologist in London does kids as well. I can set up an appointment for you if you want."

"Thanks, Macca."

In the quiet of her hotel room, you finally settle. Steph's seen this kind of behaviour from you before, on those visits before she could adopt you.

Noises still seemed a little shocking to you and strange.

You give her a little smile to show off the few teeth you've got and Steph flutters kisses upon your cheeks as you giggle ecstatically.

It's the best sound in the world and Steph settles on the bed with you on your chest. You're still giggling as she slips your hearing aids out so you can sleep peacefully.

"Go to sleep, angel," She coos to you, close enough that you can feel the vibrations of her words against you," We're going to have so much fun together."

[multifandomgirl08]

From Three to Four [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Wife!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: Reader tells Max that your expecting, he doesn't have the best reaction at first.

Warning(s): Slight angst, Flashback to four months before

A/N: This one is a little shorter then normal. It's set before the third social media posts of The Verstappens but takes place before Stones To Throw At My Creator.

Words: 1.6k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

You had suspected before you had been sure. There were no signs that you could be pregnant other than the obvious. Making the appointment was the most nerve-wracking thing. Waiting for the results was stressful, but the confirmation took a bit of the pressure off.

You stared at the sonogram pictures again before placing them back in your bag.

You heard Max coming up the stairs into the kitchen where you had been waiting for him to see the box that you had left for him.

“What’s this?” Max asked picking up the wrapped box.

“Open it,” Your eyes rested on Max to see his reaction to what was in the box.

He ripped into the wrapping paper and pulled the top off the box before seeing a little Red Bull onesie. You had taken the time to go online and order one as soon as your test results had come back from your doctor.

Max was quick to drop the box and the onesie on the kitchen counter.

“I..” Max tried to get out. His expression was too blank for your liking. “I wasn't expecting this.”

"I know that it's sooner than what we talked about." You immediately said.

"I just… didn't think that we'd have them so soon." He looked so lost.

You and Max had talked about waiting for a year or two before the possibility of trying for a baby. He had just won a fourth world title and was in pursuit of a fifth, you understood that.

January 10, 2025 - Saint-Jean Cap Ferret, France

From the moment that you had woken up that morning, you had been unpacking boxes. You started in the kitchen having finished putting the last of the cups and dishes away just before Nico had come in asking about lunch.

You had made him a sandwich and taken a few bites of the leftovers from dinner yesterday because you didn’t feel like cooking after putting all of the pots and pans away.

Max had been in one of the spare bedrooms getting his racing sim all setup. It had been the last thing that had been packed and moved and unfortunately for Max, it was the last thing that was brought into the house after all of the furniture. He wasn’t happy about it sitting in the garage for a week.

After eating, you had finally gotten to the boxes that lined the built-in bookshelves that would house Max’s ever-growing collection of trophies. You were down to the last two boxes when you heard footsteps coming up the stairs from the lower part of the house.

Looking over, you saw Max come into the kitchen and take a Red Bull out of the fridge. You glanced back down at the trophy in your hands, seeing the little plaque on it, the words Spain 2016 on it.

You heard the clang of the Red Bull can against the marble of the kitchen counter.

"Mijn leeuwin?" You heard Max turning your head towards him.

His hands went to your hips pulling you back against his chest. "What are you thinking about?"

You lightly shook your head. The more that you unpacked things, you couldn't help but think of the possibility of having kids with Max. He was such a good dad to Nico, and you knew that you eventually wanted to give Max more kids.

"Tell me." He whispered into your ear. That was always his way of getting you to tell him things when you didn't feel like you could.

You turned in his arms to look at him, "What do you think about Nico eventually getting a sibling?"

“Checo and Daniel had asked me this." You hadn't realized that Max was already thinking of the possibility of you getting pregnant.

“And…” You wanted to know what Max thought about this. Sure, you would be the one to have the baby but you wanted to make sure that you were both on the same page about when would be a good time.

“And I told them that one day we would have more but not now.”

You nodded along with Max’s words. He was right, one day you would have more kids, but it didn’t make sense for it to be now. You had just moved, and the wedding was in less than a month. Any children could wait until after.

“Maybe in a year or two?” You asked.

“Maybe,” Max said before pulling the trophy from your hands and placing it on one of the empty shelves.

“For now,” He pulled you into his arms. “I want to enjoy all the free practice that I can.”

“Yeah?” You asked. He quickly nodded back as you let yourself melt into his arms.

He took your hand pulling you away from the boxes towards the master bedroom, getting a small practice session in before you had to start dinner.

It seemed like life or fate, whichever one had different plans for you. 

You walked closer to him pressing yourself up against his chest, trying to ground him back to you. It didn't take long for him to place his arms around your waist, his hands not traveling down to your hips like they normally would.

“What’s going on Max?” You asked. You weren’t sure why he was having this reaction. Whenever you had talked about having kids before he seemed excited. He didn’t seem that way now.

“I… I, just. I wasn’t there when Nico was born or with my ex when she was pregnant with him.”

Max had never referred to his ex as Nico’s mother. You had accepted that she was just the woman that gave birth to him. That had been easy to accept when you had found out that she had given up her parental rights to him. When you signed the adoption paperwork, something settle inside of you.

“Max,” You reached for his hand to place it on your lower abdomen. You could feel the strain in his hand, he wanted to pull away. “Max,” You started again. “You’re already a great father to Nico.”

“It’s not that. I thought that the first time that you would get pregnant I wouldn’t be driving anymore. I could be home and experience all of it this time around.” Everytime that you and Max had talked about him retiring, it had always seemed like he intended to finish his current contract with Red Bull before that happened.

“Max there is nothing stopping you from driving and us having more kids.” You offered up.

You moved your hands up to Max’s neck, pulling his head down to meet yours.

“You have done everything right by Nico since the day that he’s come into your life. Moving around your schedule so that you can be there for his first day of school, putting off an endorsement deal so that you would be there the day that he started karting.” Max finally looked down at you as you kept talking. “You have been there for all the major moments of his life, spending every moment that you can with him. Besides your not going to want to spend every moment of this pregnancy with me when I’m hormonal and get emotional for no reason.”

Max broke out in a laugh at your last sentence before he started to nod.

“You are an amazing father, this baby is going to be lucky to be raised by you.” You reached up to cup his cheek.

“Really?” He asked with baited breath.

You nodded. You could feel Max’s hands go lax under the fabric of your clothes, his fingertips just lightly tracing over the non-existent bump.

“That means no more free practice.” He muttered as he pulled away a little.

You laughed, “Free practice ended when we got back from the honeymoon.”

Max was fast on the track but it took a little longer for your body to give you those signs.

Your and Max's honeymoon had been two weeks, spending the first week in The Bahamas before flying back home and christening the new house.

Nico had spent time with Sophie, Victoria, and his cousins back in Belgium before they all flew out to see the house.

Your time alone with Max had been nice, just the two of you sleeping in before Max would go and sit on the sim for a few hours. You would eventually get up and make yourself a coffee and something that resembled breakfast before pulling him off the sim and back into bed for a while.

You hadn't been trying to get pregnant, but birth control only did so much.

“I don’t know how Nico is going to feel now that he won’t be getting all of the attention,” Max said leaning his back against the kitchen counter.

"I'm sure he'll find a way to get our attention. He is related to you after all."

“Doesn’t mean that he hasn’t picked up things from you as well.”

Nico had started picking up things that you would do, from the way that you would use certain words in a sentence, to how he would mimic you when you were doing something around the house. In those moments, you felt the most like his mother.

You couldn’t wait for this baby to be a part of such a loving family.

“You want to call your mom and Victoria and tell them, or should I?” You asked.

Max lightly groaned before dropping his head to your shoulder. You ran your fingers through his hair before feeling his head come up off your shoulder.

"Tomorrow?" He asked. You nodded back before noticing Max's eyes drop to your abdomen, his large hands not leaving your sides until Nico had come into the kitchen.

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[thebibliosphere]

Hello there - I had a question which I think(?) you might be able to help with. Or at least point me in the direction of more information.

I have a few chronic illnesses and disabilities and as such there's many gremlins I deal with. One thing that crops up a lot are comorbidities between my conditions.

I'm trying to be more vigilant with regards to my health - as a child there were many, many missed opportunities to get my symptoms seen to by a doctor (all squandered due to my parents nor believing me about my symptoms).

Anyway, I wanted to ask about MCAS and if you know it's possible to have it but not realise it?

I've had a few incidents like this, but mostly forgot them or ignored them. But yesterday I ate some basil from my windowsill plant and I had what can only be described as an allergic reaction. I'm not allergic to any foods (as far as I know) but I've eaten from this exact plant before and been fine. I have mint growing next to it which I also ate and it caused the same reaction. Again, I've eaten from this exact plant before. It was like my mouth was burning or stinging and the leaves felt, spicy? In my mouth. I'm not sure how to describe it but I hope you know what I mean. Today I ate from the exact same plants and had no reaction whatsoever.

I've definitely had similar things happen before- but events like yesterday are few and far between. But utterly confounding when they do happen. I have urticaria (diagnosed since age 18) which I suspect is relevant, somehow.

I'm starting to wonder if a lot of my symptoms I've written off have actually been MCAS. But I'm not sure. Do you have any advice around talking to a doctor about this or if I have a leg to stand on so to speak?

Sending my best wishes!

Hey friend, sorry to hear you've been dealing with some neglect.

And considering MCAS was only really recognized as a condition in the last 15 years, it's absolutely possible to have it and not know until symptoms get worse. I was experiencing anaphylactoid reactions my whole childhood, but because I tested negative on IgE tests (I still do), it was dismissed as anxiety right up until I hit my 30s and I experienced my first episode of full-blown idiopathic anaphylaxis.

(Note: anaphylaxis is not a requirement for diagnosis, and not everyone experiences it.)

You should discuss your inconsistent allergies with your doctor or allergist. I would also advise pursuing allergen testing, as new allergens can develop at any time, even if you don't have mast cell instability.

If you suspect some form of mast cell instability may be the root cause of your issues, I'd suggest checking out The Mast Cell Disease Society. (Their website is in the process of being updated, still. But they have good resources there.)

Their signs and symptoms (and triggers) page has recently been updated and is fairly concise:

If any of that rings a bell, it might be worth bringing up with your allergist, but fair warning, not everyone is receptive to the idea of mast cell disorders outside of mastocytosis. (And even then some doctors gaslight their patients to hell and back.)

If you do find yourself in this situation, try joining a couple of support groups to see if there are any MCAS aware doctors in your area, or alternatively, try the TMS physician finder tool:

Sorry if it seems like I'm just throwing a lot of links at you, but they are very useful links and I'm not at my best right now to explain things.

I hope this is helpful and if I missed something, please let me know.

I wish you luck in remedying your chronic health issues <3

[musings-of-miss-j]

no rest for the wicked (nor the foolish)

part nine: in which the Doctor calls in sick and Her Ladyship graces your doorstep

a harbingers x gn reader series!! (includes dottore, childe, arlecchino and pantalone x reader. the rest of the harbingers will not be romantic interests)

notes: slowburn, uh idek what to describe this as anymore!! introspection-heavy chapter, signora and dottore centric this time, Menaces Think About Feeling and Give Themselves a Headache

series masterlist

author's notes: *bleeding from an array of stab wounds varying in depth and size* h..hey everyone... sent in my college applications the other day and i've been feeling sick to my damn stomach every since. also graduated haha! salutatorian..! kill me! at least i got to give a speech and make my mum proud ig. anyway enjoy this chapter!

word count: 4902

*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚**  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚**  ੈ✩‧₊˚*

Despite how dazzled Childe might have been by your passable archery, Dottore was decidedly unimpressed when your return to the lab was so overdue.

“And just where have you been?”

“I could ask you the same, Doctor,” you replied pointedly when you recovered from your start at his sudden question. He clicked his tongue, impatient.

“My dear student, this is far from a suitable day to challenge the status quo. Tell me where you were.”                                                                                                               

The Doctor was hardly one to wear his heart on his sleeve, and the barely-there edge to his voice would’ve escaped you if you weren’t so familiar with the careless tenor he usually adopted; paired with the slight raspiness it almost made it sound as if he was… sick?

“Have you fallen ill?” You asked with a frown, stepping forward and scrutinising what was visible of his face for any observable changes. He always looked deathly pale, though, so it was difficult to ascertain any physical symptoms.

“I don’t fall ill,” he hissed, turning away from you with a scowl. “Answer my question.”

Oh, well. Might as well let him interrogate you.

“The archery range.”

“The archery range,” he repeated, tone dripping with contempt. “Rather than contributing to scientific advancement, you chose to play with bows and arrows. Extraordinary.”

“Whoever usually spits in your coffee supplied extra effort today, I see,” you mused under your breath, heading back to your work station and tightening your gloves as you walked.

“The sheer cheek-”

“And there’s my proof that something’s amiss,” you smoothly interrupted, looking through the row of test tubes on your work bench. “I implicitly called you an imbecile earlier this week and you didn’t bat an eye, but now a little throwaway comment is so easily setting off your volatile temper?” You shot him a pointed look over the rim of your glasses. “No point in continuing yesterday’s experiment if you’re sick, Doctor. You’ll contaminate the Petri dishes beyond salvation.”

Dottore pinched the bridge of his nose with a long-suffering sigh, pivoting on his heel and preventing you from taking a peek at what the rest of his face looked like with the mask slightly tilted up. You were insufferable, with your overly astute observations and your deceptively mild tone with the hint of sarcasm just strong enough to make him raise an eyebrow. You were maddening, all narrowed eyes and furrowed brows as you pored over what he assumed to be an anomalous result (you only ever hunched that closely over your work when something had gone wrong. He knew it was an old habit from before you’d started wearing glasses, when any mistakes could easily be fixed simply by eliminating the issue of poor visuals.) You were unbearable, intelligent enough to challenge him and prove him wrong, all without even raising your voice a single decibel. He wished your secrets were the kind that could be uncovered by a scalpel and a swipe or two of disinfectant.

“I do believe I’m the doctor, dear student. You’re hardly qualified to throw diagnoses around.”

“Well then, Doctor, I think you’d best go ahead and diagnose yourself with a common cold, and recommend yourself some bedrest while you’re at it.”

He grumbled incoherently under his breath, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Probably a fever, you thought with a touch of gratification. When he moved in the general direction of the incubator, you called out at his receding back.

“Do not touch my cultures. This is the fourth time I try to test this medium,” you added, mostly to yourself.

“Worry not,” he replied, voice practically oozing sarcasm. “Your subpar agar plates couldn’t be further from the top of my list of priorities.” 

You rolled your eyes, stacking the sheets of paper you inevitably accumulated at the end of every lab session and resolving to leave the Doctor and his more-annoying-than-usual attitude to finish your work elsewhere.

“Stay,” he instructed without turning around when you headed to the door. “I’ve yet to hear the details of your thermodynamic stability tests.”

“I’ll have the complete report ready tomorrow,” you pointed out, continuing to make your way to the door.

“Stay,” he repeated, just barely more forceful. “I’d like to hear about it now.”

You stopped in your tracks, sighing internally. It would be senseless to put so much effort into making sure you didn’t anger the Harbingers only to directly disobey an order and let all your posturing go to waste, so you spent the next few hours chattering extensively about your experiment, perhaps being more long-winded and going into more detail than necessary as a form of petty revenge. Not that the Doctor seemed to mind, making the occasional noise of acknowledgement and asking questions that allowed you to delve deeper into the specifics of your methodology.

By the time you’d finished off your spiel with a cursory “and then I’ll recrystallise the product so there’s a pure sample ready for another round of testing”, it was well into the evening and you’d wound up in the inevitable position of sitting on one of the workbenches thanks to the utter lack of any chairs in the lab.

“It is a well-designed procedure,” the Doctor conceded, breaking your absent-minded train of thought about whether or not you could somehow drag a comfortable loveseat inside.

“You must really be under the weather if you’re offering me a compliment on a silver platter,” you replied with a raise of your eyebrows. “Not even a backhanded one. Truly astonishing.”

Dottore rolled his eyes behind the mask. “The only cause for astonishment is your inexcusably meagre supply of respect.”

“There’s the Doctor I know,” you said with a huff of laughter, pushing your glasses to the top of your head and rubbing your eyes. “…Don’t overwork tonight,” you added after a non-negligible period of deliberation. “I need another set of hands for tomorrow’s follow-up. So…” you gestured vaguely at him with your hand, hopping down from the workbench. “Rest, if only for an hour or two.”

You weren’t quite sure if the Doctor’s silence made you feel more or less awkward, but you brushed it off to the best of your ability and left with only with the vague sense of mortification you’d get from showing a little more kindness than usual to someone who was probably more accustomed to your scorn.

Dottore, on the other hand, was more confounded than he cared to admit. You’d always been careful not to say too much; every one of your words was precisely measured and deftly presented, with no room to spare for emotion. Which was sensible of you, all things considered; he was a Harbinger, and you were in alone in a foreign country working with an organisation that veered on the wrong edge of morality, where integrity was a politely dismissed formality at best and an openly mocked concept at worst. Impassiveness would help just as much as openness would hurt. The occasional times you slipped up, the only feeling that bled into your voice was annoyance; crisp and sharp and a sight to behold, especially for a scholar such as himself who toiled against the laws of nature countless times with innumerable different methods to procure something new, a tangible result.

He marvelled at himself for thinking of you as such, an immovable law, a force of nature, then he returned to the puzzling dilemma that was your parting statement. Rest, you’d told him. You never said anything that could belie concern, or worry or weakness, yet you’d expended an extra syllable or two for the simple word, directed at him. To every rule an exception, he thought with no small measure of satisfaction at finding a way to categorise your behaviour yet again, and filed the abnormally uncertain cadence that your voice had displayed, however briefly, in the corner of his mind.

The night was still young and many of the recruits you shared a wing with loitered in the corridors, talking and smoking and looking rather exhausted. One of them, a girl with red hair so bright it could’ve replaced the floating lanterns that littered the palace, offered you a cigarette as you walked past. You declined with a nod in her direction and continued on your way, the strap of your heavy leather satchel digging uncomfortably into your shoulder as you approached your dorm. After a moment of fumbling with the chain on your belt for the key, you all but collapsed inside with a yawn, running a hand through the stray hairs that had escaped throughout the day. The fire crackled in the hearth, definitely courtesy of Anya, and you gratefully warmed your hands in front of it before unclasping your cloak and hanging it in the wardrobe along with your bag.

“You’re late, sweetling,” came a voice that was becoming alarmingly familiar- ever so slightly gravelly, with an undercurrent that always left you guessing whether its owner was amused or displeased.

“Fashionably so, I hope,” you replied, turning to face Signora with a smile that veered on the wrong side of playful. You couldn’t help it; everything about her demanded obedience, and small defiances were the only thing preventing you from feeling like a well-trained pet with not an ounce of dignity to spare. Either way, she didn’t seem to mind, judging from the exaggerated, lenient eye roll she sent in your direction. You marvelled at the companionable silence as you unpacked. Lady Signora fit seamlessly into the puzzle that your everyday belongings shaped, yet commanded attention all the same; like a swath of unblemished silk draped over aging furniture. Her first few visits were an uncomfortable experience. It had felt more like an intrusion, really, being forced to entertain an unwanted guest with your limited capacity for small talk (mortifying) and a different tea blend every time served in teacups with a painted rim that matched her lipstick (because despite it all, a part of you still wanted to impress her).

You carried out the same routine, teapot, cups and saucers, and even went so far as to open a new tin of biscuits for Her Ladyship. The eyes of Her Ladyship in question remained focused on you, half-lidded yet nonetheless penetrating as ever, as you went through the motions of pouring the tea and handing her the cup.

“Chamomile? It’s quite unlike you to forego caffeine.”

You sighed, taking a seat across from her and melting into the dips of the chair. “The Doctor was in an awful mood. If it carries on until morning I’ll need every minute of sleep I can get to deal with him.”

She clicked her tongue, lifting the cup to her lips. “That man possesses no emotional stability whatsoever. It’s a wonder you’re both still alive, especially when your temper is hardly mild either.” This last remark she paired with a wink, and a smile spread over your face.

“Right as always, my lady. Too often a day spent in the lab feels like my last.”

“Ah, Tsaritsa forbid!” She waved a hand in your direction, the simple black rings on her fingers catching the low light. “You have to live until the gala at least, sweetheart. I won’t have you tragically perishing before then; you owe me a dance, after all.”

You dejectedly rubbed your brow. “I do wish you’d pardon my absence from that gala.”

“Absolutely not,” Signora declared, crossing one leg over the other with an air of unbearable gratification. “You wouldn’t break my heart so callously, now would you?”

“Anything but Her Ladyship’s heart,” you replied dryly.

After a moment of shared laughter, a comfortable quiet fell across the room, punctuated by the crackling fire and the muffled groan of the building as it settled for the night. Your eyelids grew heavy, and staying awake was rapidly looking like an unnecessary effort you had no interest in making. Signora watched you drift off with an oddly contemplative expression, her eyes unfocused yet present all the same, as if simultaneously observing you and something far beyond. You had become a frequent visitor in her dreams, instantly recognizable by that shrewd look in your eye and the stubborn line of your mouth, one she could never resist trying to coax into a smile; and sometimes when she succeeded and the light hit you just so, she could swear that she glimpsed Rostam’s face within the shadows of your own. Then she’d blink and the illusion would dissolve, leaving behind only your sharp eyes and stern mouth, so unlike the gentleness she so clearly remembered in his.

But now, with the fire casting wavering shadows every time your lashes fluttered, just barely asleep, and the muffled silence that always seemed to accompany snow calming her mind, Rosalyne found comfort in the fact that your face – the slope of your cheek, the curve of your nose, the crease of your eyes – was entirely your own.

Something banged against the door and you started awake, half-certain you were dreaming as your eyes struggled to focus in the dark. The noise came again, louder and more insistent, and you detangled yourself from a blanket you didn’t remember falling asleep in before stumbling off the couch and towards the door, rubbing your eyes and too tired to even question who would call on you at such an ungodly hour of the night.

Bang bang bang-

“Heavens above, would you stop-”

You forcefully yanked the door open, already preparing to fix whoever was on the other side with your most withering glare. Dottore peered back at you, almost glowing in the inky blackness of the corridor. You blinked, then groped blindly through your pockets for your glasses. Upon hastily shoving them onto your nose, it became clear that it wasn’t Dottore at all, rather one of his segments.

“Omega?” You squinted up at him, then scowled. “Bastard. What exactly are you hoping to accomplish by breaking my door down?”

“I’d break down much more than just a door if it meant having a chance to see you.”

“Shut the hell up,” you hissed, feeling more enraged by the second. “You have thirty – no, twenty seconds to explain what you’re doing here before I dismantle your logic core.”

He grinned, completely unconcerned. You hated to admit it, but his lack of reaction was probably justified; the Rudimentary Mechanics of Sentient Machines course you took in your second year left you ill-equipped to go through with your threat. That didn’t mean you couldn’t simply swing a hammer, though, and you silently communicated the fact to Omega with a glower that could probably light a torch.

“Alright, alright,” he relented, shifting his weight to the other foot. “Prime’s fallen unconscious.”

You levelled him with an unimpressed look. “I fail to see how that’s my problem. There are seven of you, all with highly developed medical faculties. You can handle a little oopsie-daisy.”

“Well, of course we can,” Omega replied with a barely restrained snort. “It isn’t a lack of skill on our part, that I can assure you of. Prime coded us all with a total inability to touch his person.”

There was a pause during which you picked out a rather distasteful array of words you would’ve liked to call the Doctor. “Archons above, that man is the most imbecilic genius this timeline had the displeasure of housing.” You rubbed the bridge of your nose, already half-resigned to your fate. “And I suppose any real doctors within the building are utterly forbidden from laying a hand on His Majesty’s body, too?”

“Nope. They haven’t been given explicit instructions not to do so, but they’re all too scared out of their wits to breathe within a five mile radius of him anyway,” he replied cheerfully.

“I’m going to mix all his blood samples together,” you muttered heatedly under your breath, turning to grab your cloak and pushing Omega out of your doorway before he could start looking through your dorm. “Move it, Omega.”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled, letting you shove him towards the barely-illuminated staircase.

The lab was just as, if not even more poorly lit than the corridors, with only a single lamp set to the dimmest possible glow; the feeble light was barely enough to see by, and you could make out the Doctor’s slumped-over form by the indistinct shadows it cast over the workbench. Despite the eeriness of the scene, you didn’t feel nervous; it was difficult not to feel at ease in a room you spent so many hours of the day in. You could probably navigate the lab blindfolded and drunk, so picking your way through the boxes, stacks of paper and books on the floor might as well have been a walk in the park. Still, you wondered why the floor was so cluttered in the first place; it was never so populated with scientific miscellany when you were working there.

Approaching the Doctor, you took note of how his mask had fallen slightly askew where his face rested against the marble, revealing a sliver of his cheek, flushed an unusual red, and the dark circles beneath one of his eyes. Your spine tingled with trepidation. Even while unconscious, the Doctor emanated danger, embodied peril; the simple act of reaching out to touch him felt like a surefire way to spell your own doom, but despite your wariness you slowly extended your hand towards his face to check his temperature.

You barely made it a few inches before he grabbed your wrist, snapping upright and staring straight at you.

“Oh,” he muttered hoarsely. “It’s you.” Then he went limp again, collapsing back onto the marble surface as you recovered from the start he’d given you.

“What in Teyvat is the matter with you?” You demanded in a whisper after a moment’s surprise. “Omega dragged me here saying you were unconscious. You can’t possibly keep denying that you’re sick, Doctor.”

“Don’t you tell me what I can or can’t deny,” came a muffled grumble in response. “Go away, dear. Omega is a meddling pest who needs his cerebrospinal fluid replaced at best and a full reformatting at worst. Nothing he says can be trusted.” His words slurred together in a most concerning manner, and you could hear the faintest Sumerian accent that wasn’t usually present in his voice from the way he rolled his r’s.

“Why would a robot need cerebrospinal- no, don’t answer that. Just”- you gestured at his hunched form, not that he could see- “Go to bed, please.”

“I can’t possibly waste time on something as useless as sleep,” he snapped, finally lifting his head. “I’m one concordant result away from a breakthrough, I swear it.”

“And I’m one stupid word from your mouth away from knocking you out properly,” you griped under your breath. “Doctor, please. I bet if I tried to take your temperature I’d lose a couple of fingers to third degree burns. Just rest, whatever breakthrough you think you’re on the verge of can wait.”

He let out a bark of wry laughter, turning to face you fully and lay the full weight of his piercing glare on you. “Aren’t we hypocritical? You once spent fifty-one and a half hours straight in the lab inhaling toxic fumes from a genetically modified mushroom’s spores because you were convinced the cure to Eleazar was within reach. You wouldn’t let a revolutionary advancement in your research wait either.”

“That is completely beside the point”- you blinked, processing his words. “How the hell do you know about that? I stopped researching Eleazar in my third year and I only have one publication on the topic.”

“I have my ways,” he replied, a self-assured grin stretching across his face.

“So you’re a stalker, too? Was the list of atrocities you’ve already committed not long enough to appease your wicked soul?”  You deadpanned.

“Stalking? I prefer to call it data collection.”

“Yes, of course you would,” you quipped, patience growing thinner by the second. “Get up, Doctor. You’re getting eight hours of sleep tonight whether you like it or not.”

“Don’t be so frivolous,” he scorned. “Three is already excessive.”

You were growing more and more aggravated by the second; if you scowled any harder the lines of your face would probably become permanently etched in that position. Steeling your nerves, you grabbed him by the sleeve and hauled him upwards. Surprisingly enough, he actually got up, although that was more likely because you caught him off-guard.

“I’m too tired to exchange witticisms with you all night. We both know you’re not going to make any more progress, and you’ll be useless in the lab if you can’t even discern silver from iron.”

You picked your way unsteadily through the mess on the floor, cursing Omega for disappearing when he could’ve made himself useful. Dottore let you pull him towards the door that led to the completely unused bedroom, still mostly out of surprise that you’d dared to lay a hand on him in the first place. He had to commend your bravery; anyone else would’ve been left with a broken wrist by now, if they were lucky. The reasoning behind your special treatment made the unpleasant pounding in his head quickly become unbearable, so he decided to drop that train of thought. For the time being.

You kicked open the door and shoved him inside the untouched bedroom. Just from taking a brief glance around you were immediately certain that no one had stepped foot in it since it had been furnished, let alone made use of it for sleep. Every surface from the dresser to the shelves mounted on the wall was completely empty save for a thick layer of dust, the bedsheets had become yellowed with age and the spider web cracks starting at the window and ending at one of the corners were tightly clustered with the tiny, jasmine-like flowers that littered the rest of the palace. The Doctor swayed slightly on his feet, and you quickly moved to catch him before he fell. A frown crossed his face. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about being so reliant on you all of a sudden. Whatever he felt about the matter, it couldn’t have been positive; every time you touched him his fever seemed to rise a few degrees.

“Well, isn’t this ironic,” you mused to yourself, guiding Dottore to the bed and pushing him down onto it. “The doctor becomes the patient and the apprentice becomes the master.”

“Do not flatter yourself so,” he bit back. “You’ve a long way to go before surpassing me, dear.”

“I see a little cold isn’t enough to knock some humility into you,” you sighed, busying yourself with trying to force the window, which hung ever so slightly ajar and let in gusts of freezing air, to fully close. Dottore watched you from the bed, wondering what you were thinking in that moment. As far as he was concerned, it was a miracle you’d managed to force him anywhere without snapping his incredibly fragile patience, and now you were even going so far as to trade jabs with him that were quite a few degrees of familiarity higher than the ones you usually let loose during the day. And you’d told him to rest earlier that night, advice he’d blatantly disregarded, but it had still been a deviance from what he’d come to expect from you. Overall, he decided, both of you were exhibiting remarkably odd behaviour, and as much as it pained him to admit it he was too tired to think further about the matter.

Upon finally forcing the window shut and sustaining a shallow nick in the palm of your hand as a result, you walked past him and back into the lab with a mumbled curse on your lips which quickly devolved into a wide yawn. Of course you’d be tired. He tended to forget, sometimes, how it felt to have a body that wasn’t modified to be as close to perfection as possible; but catching even a glimpse of your very much human exhaustion brought back distant memories of his own fatigue, before he had taken a scalpel to his own skin and remedied the limitations of his own body. Still, he mused, watching you return to the bedroom with a pot of steaming tea (where in Teyvat did you get that? Did you keep it in the lab?) with half-lidded eyes and a disgruntled frown on your lips, a part of him filled with satisfaction at the opportunity to analyse an expression of yours he hadn’t seen before. He studied you intently as you turned your attention to the tea, eagerly filing away every detail of your countenance as he always tended to do when you showed him a new side of yourself, whether intentionally or not. You bent over a little to pour the tea, and he took in the curve of your spine, normally held upright in an example of perfect posture. Your hair slipped and hid a portion of your face, and he marvelled at how soft it looked, how effectively you usually kept it tied back for it to never get in the way. You rubbed one of your eyes, dislodging your glasses, and he watched as you plucked them from your face and stowed them in the pocket of your coat, thoroughly wrinkled along with your blouse to the point where he suspected you’d fallen asleep in them. You’d never let yourself get in such a state of disarray otherwise. Your gloves remained on your hands, though, he noted. You silently offered him a cup of tea, and cast a curious, searching gaze, the one you adopted when tasked with a particularly tricky experiment or stubborn calculation, across his face. He’d long since acknowledged the sheer gratification that came with you regarding him like a puzzle to solve or a code to decipher, and now was no different. Dottore internally preened at being the subject of your curiosity.

“That mask can’t be comfortable,” you finally said, taking a sip from your cup. “Does it not impair your breathing at all?”

He stared down at the cup you’d given him, catching sight of his own reflection in the surface of the amber liquid. “Quite a poor attempt to convince me to remove it,” he remarked, sending you a bemused, slightly mocking smile.

You rolled your eyes, dragging a worn chair to the side of the bed and crumpling into it. Swirling your cup around thoughtfully, you continued to survey him through narrowed eyes. You probably couldn’t see him very well without your glasses, he realised with some amusement as he finally lifted the cup to his lips. He was pleasantly surprised; it seemed your unbelievable caffeine intake was justified, if every pot of tea you made was of such high quality.

“You’re going to get up and continue working the second I leave, aren’t you?” You said, breaking the silence. Dottore drained his teacup before answering. Some damn good tea right there.

“Unless you’ve spiked this tea with a sedative, yes.”

“Damn, I should’ve done that,” you muttered regretfully under your breath. Then, after eyeing him shrewdly for a moment, you conceded, “Well, at least you’re getting some rest now, if nothing else.”

Yet another thing about the whole situation that was confusing the hell out of him. Why didn’t he just disregard you and go back to what he was doing? Why was he sitting in this practically-antique bed in this practically-abandoned room, drinking tea and making conversation with you instead of finishing what he started? What in Teyvat was it about you that was so compelling he found it so easy to disregard the work he thought he’d choose over everything else? Not for the first time, he wished that your enigmatic nature was something he could decode like an ancient scripture or unravel like the tangle of ley lines that held the world together. So few things were a mystery to him anymore; there was so little he’d left undiscovered, yet you had managed to make it onto such a short list seemingly without effort. Even now, while you were completely still and silent, your unfocused eyes looking somewhere out the window, his full attention was captured by the way you rested your cheek on your fist, the way your eyelids fluttered periodically as you struggled to stay awake. Damn you.

You dozed off just then, teacup slipping from between your fingers. He caught it before it could shatter, then nearly crushed it to pieces himself when he realised his urgency in preventing it from hitting the floor was because he didn’t want to wake you. And that maybe you liked this particular teacup, and would mourn its loss. And fuck, why would such things cross his mind? Frustrated, he glanced back up at you as if your sleeping form would hold the answers to these infuriating questions that plagued him, and instead was left with an even greater sense of wonderment at how much the peacefulness of sleep softened the harsh lines of doubt and suspicion in your face.

He carefully set the cup down. If his grip tightened any more he’d break it in his fit of vexation. And despite not knowing the reason why, he didn’t want to upset you.

*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚**  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚*  ੈ✩‧₊˚**  ੈ✩‧₊˚*

taglist (omg there's so many of you now i'm gonna cry):

@viridian-coffer, @vvzhyxx, @darifes, @whore-of-many-hot-men

@aenishas, @lovel3tter, @randomidk-123, @autistic-deer

@luvenus702, @zoriaisasimp, @ra404, @crownohomo

@diamondcookie45, @steadybreadbluebird, @reapersimps

@lockandkeys, @lacunaanonymoused, @tyt42, @blackcatpandora

to be added or removed please reply to the masterlist post, bold means i'm having trouble tagging you :(

[scarletwinterxx]

WE NEED MOREEE Taeyong dad au honestly all ur dad aus r so good liekkkk

a/n: hiiiiiiii ~ honestly i didn't think about writing more abt taeyong dad au, i loved writing the first one and how simple and cute it was. but never say never 😅 so here we areeee. thank you for liking my stories🤍🥺

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

The sight of your husband sneaking around the house to prepare for the twin's birthday. The big 7. It feels like yesterday you were inside the bathroom making Taeyong look at the pregnancy test first because you were too nervous.

As the two kids grow up, they showed more of their individuality which you and Taeyong love watching. Minseo the ever confident one, she took a liking in joining school musicals and performances. She's always been the star in your household and she shines just as bright whenever she goes. Minhyuck, on the other hand, is a big bookworm. As soon as he started to learn how to read, there wasn't a day he didn't have a book on hand. He's also very into drawing much like his dad. You have a collection of his drawings hidden away to keep forever.

If there's one thing you and your husband learned about being parents, it's that time really does fly when you have kids. One day you have to hold their head up for them and the next second they're out making their own marks in the world.

"Do you think they'll like this?" Taeyong asks, looking at the rows of balloons he got for the twins. "They'll love it"

"I got the pink scooter with purple glittery handles Minseo wanted and the orange bike Minhyuck wanted"

"Good job"

"Are we forgetting something?" "Taeyong love, what are you stressed about?" you chuckle

"I just want tomorrow to be perfect and a day they will always remember. They only turn 7 once" he pouts, recalling the days when his babies were younger. Indeed wondering where did the time go.

"Aw love, come here" you open your arms for him, stepping in your embrace and burying his head between your shoulder

"They're going to love all the gifts you give them, we taught them well to appreciate even the little things"

He picks his head up to look at you, "They're not babies anymore"

"I know, I'm sad too but more so excited about they're future. I'm excited to see them explore more, know more about themselves, grow up" you play with the ends of his hear on his neck, looking into his big eyes both your kids inherited. Thank the heavens.

"Does it make you sad, that we never had kids after the twins?" you ask him

"Of course not" he answers without missing a beat, "You, Minseo and Minhyuck are my everything. There isn't a day I felt like there something missing in me the moment I met you" the same words he told you the day you got married.

After the twins birth, it was very stressful for your body to the point you were told by your doctor it was going to be very dangerous when you decide to have another kid. Taeyong is right, the twins are enough and there isn't a day you felt like your family isn't complete. But there are moments, very few, where you wonder what it would be like if you had more kids.

"If we're blessed to have more then that's good, if we're not then that's okay too. Losing you isn't a risk I will ever take. Don't ever feel pressured about that, okay? I love you very much and this life we created together" he tells you, holding your face in his hands

"I love you too" you give him a sweet kiss, finishing the night.

The next morning, very early you get the cake ready for the twins. Waiting for them to wake up. You light up the candles when you hear voices coming down the stairs,

"Gotta keep your eyes closed okay, no peeking" Taeyong appears with one child in each arm, carrying both down the stairs. He puts them down before telling them it's okay to look, "Happy Birthday!" you and Taeyong say at the same time, the two kids immediately smile upon seeing the surprise waiting for them.

The two blow their candles and open the gift you and Taeyong got before you eat breakfast as a family.

It's days like these that makes life worth it, making you excited for the days yet to come and the future you're going to live. You look over your husband, playing with the kids and letting them put icing on his face and think your self how much you love your little life.

[persephoneflouwers]

I’m home.

It was a strange day and in some ways it was worse than yesterday.

I slept barely 4 hours, was awake at 4 am and just waited for my alarm to ring for 1 hour and 50 minutes staring at the dark ceiling.

I also slept in my sisters bed, because yesterday night when I read Louis’ post on IG I felt an intense chest pain, that I only felt the night my grandma died. I was scared and couldn’t sleep alone.

I went to work in a total black outfit, was there awfully early. I didn’t speak. My colleague didn’t speak because he’s apparently very good at the reading the room.

I couldn’t even bother to wear my scrubs. I kept my black clothes. My black trousers, my black loafers, my black socks, my black cardigan. I even kept down my black hair.

It simply was a black heart day.

I barely spoke, only to expose clinical cases to my tutor doctor.

I was running down a fever at some point, because I was hot and then cold and then my eyes burnd and my voice was cracked and I felt so much pain in my muscles, I wanted to just go home and lay down.

I almost forgot I had blood tests to check. I went there saying “my veins are difficult, just take this [showed my radial vein on my pulse], I dont want to waste your time*. He didn’t even hear me probably, I don’t know. What I know is he tried for another vein and failed.

I was looking at his earrings. They were semicircular rings with sharp endings. He was a cool middle age man. I should have said something, commented on how cool his earrings were. I didn’t.

I wore my FFP2 mask and kept sniffing my nose. I didn’t feel pain, I just wanted to go home.

He took my distal radial vein after all.

I thanked him and I said I’m sorry my veins are like this, I tried to bump them and even drank coffee to raise my blood pressure but it is that it is.

I went back to the doctors office. There were so many people, I was uncomfortable. I hated that I couldn’t be showing how upset I was.

I hated they asked me “total black today huh?” I didn’t want them to know about my emotional state.

I looked for patterns. Stripes, circles, matching colours in people’s clothes. It calmed me down.

I met crush guy too. It was awful, i didn’t match his energy at all. I asked him to leave me alone because it was a rough day. He texted me later to say they were worried. I didn’t want them to know how I am. They don’t understand.

I took an ABG sample on the cutest old man today. I asked him if I had hurt him and he smiled and said I was a delicate angel in his cute accent. I failed the test, by the way. I had to ask someone else to do it for me. I didn’t want to needle this person again.

I asked my colleague, probably the only one who knows what is going on, if she needed any help and she said yes. I helped her out with some clinical reports for the weekend.

Everything and everyone were so loud today. I wanted to play my day on mute. I didn’t listen to any music in my car on my way home. It was just silence.

There was a rainbow in the sky at 5ish. I said “hi liam” and it was heartwarming.

I love rainbows. They’re silent, innocent, light. I hope to see the rainbows again.

[katsona-the-katsequel]

Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad Activity Report

Part 3

5/16 (Sat) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Uh, this is Takeba.

Actually, Tartarus is closed today, and Kirijo-senpai told me, "School take priority over SEES activities!", but it's tough to stay holed up in my room all day, so I snuck out. That being said, I don't really have anything to report.

Oh, I'm lying, there was one thing. Well, Sanada-senpai is a little scary. Haha. Apparently the doctor told him yesterday that he'll be okay to start boxing in about a week, and he's really happy about that.

Of course, since it's before the exams, he seems to be studying properly in his room, but when I went out to the stairwell, I saw him running up the stairs at a great pace. I was surprised and talked to him, and he said that he had been taking a break and couldn't stay still. Do you even know what a break means? But I'm glad he's doing well. Yes.

Well, I don't want to relax too much, so I'll get back to studying. This is Takeba.

5/17 (Sun) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Well... Good evening, I'm Junpei Iori. I don't really have anything to report, but Kirijo-senpai told me to hold the microphone. I guess she told me to calm down and complain or whatever because my cries from the heart are getting in the way of the wonderful training... but somehow, haven't I lost sight of my original purpose for this activity report?

…Oh, that's right, there's something to report.

No, I don't want to sit at my desk any more this afternoon.

I don't want that to happen! I'm stuck with that feeling.

Wait, I went to Paulownian Mall to change my mood.

Then, I felt some strange tension.

A self-proclaimed "reporter" told me about some strange things happening recently.

She asked me if I had information.

When she said something like "I'll be rewarded if you give me any information," I was tempted for a moment, but then I thought, aren't we just heroes of justice who work in secret? Of course, I said "I don't know," and rejected her. Then the reporter just said, "Oh, okay," and walked away... It's a bit complicated...

5/18 (Mon) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

Well, the exam finally starts today. There's no point in rushing now. I'll just do my best.

However... I know this may be unnecessary, and it may not be the right topic to talk about at a time like this, but I am really concerned about the injury that happened to our physical education teacher, Mr. Aoyama. From what I heard, he had been drinking after work and was on his way home in a good mood when, an accident was caused by a falling sign, but the accident happened just as the day changed... around the Dark Hour.

Well, shadows wouldn't have to resort to such a roundabout means to drop a sign and injure someone. It's probably just paranoia born from the frustration of not being able to return. Forget it.

5/19 (Tue) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Hi, it's Junpei.

...It's no good anymore!

Ugh, today's modern Japanese test. I messed up... I messed up...

No, it was a chance question.

It was a question I remember doing, and it was the one that was called on me in that class, and I thought, "Yes, I got it," but then... I'd completely forgotten about it, hadn't I?

Damn it... If I had known it would be like this, I would have looked it up properly on my own instead of asking him for the answer!

5/20 (Wed) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Well, it's Takeba.

It's already the third day of the exam. How is everyone doing? Are you doing well? Are you scratching your head? I feel like I shouldn't be reporting here and should just go to bed or study... but let me get away with it.

...I mean, there's no way I can understand physics! What use is it for a girl to learn something like that in the future?

Yes, yes, I know I'm being petty.

5/24 (Sun) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

But I can't help but say it! Who the hell is Einstein! What did Newton do for me!

5/21 (Thu) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

Takeba... This may be unnecessary, but trivia about daily life isn't physics.

Now, it's Kirijo.

There are only two days left until the exams. Everyone seems to be getting tired. Before the exams, I hinted at a reward if they performed well, hoping to encourage them a little, but... I guess it was a bit too childish to lure them with something.

Of the three second-years, the ones who seem to have potential are the field leader and Takeba, but Takeba's complexion is getting worse day by day and he doesn't seem to be riding the wave at the moment, and in his case, it's hard to read his facial expressions...

I've always been bad at people-controlling techniques since I was forced to study something like the art of rulership before, but... putting it into practice is even more difficult. As someone in a position above them, I too must work even harder...

5/22 (Fri) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Hey, Junpei here. Only one more day left until the end of exams! Tomorrow is the last day! If I rush around anymore, it won't start, so I'm going to bed after I finish submitting my report!

Hehehe, well, the questions I was trying to answer came up today, so maybe I'm doing pretty well?

Even so, I was really lucky today.

That's great! I forgot the question I was asked the other day, but I remembered it well today. The difference between the Paleolithic and Neolithic is the shape of the stone tools!

Hehehe, that serves you right.

All right, let's do our best tomorrow too!

5/23 (Sat) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

It's been a long time... I wonder how long I've waited for this day.

Today, the doctor finally gave me the seal of approval that I'm completely recovered, and said that it's okay to move around a little more roughly. The midterm exams are over, so I'm even happier.

Well, I can't just be happy.

I haven't been able to move my body properly for a while, so I'll need some rehabilitation before I can move properly in a real fight. I've been working on my recovery menu since I was concentrating on my treatment, so I can start doing it tomorrow. I hope everyone looks forward to it.

Oh, and the report I asked the lab to send during the exam period has arrived. It's a report on Fuuka Yamagishi, the student with potential who was confirmed at the hospital before and has been undergoing detailed investigation since then.

However, I was looking forward to it, but from what Junpei said today, it seems that she is sickly and often misses school. It's a shame, since the report said that not only was she suited to the Dark Hour, but he also had a good chance of using her Persona abilities.

To be honest, I can't really give up, but as long as there's even one cause for concern, I don't want to push it. We must never again cause tragedy by relying on optimism...

Well, it's Takeba.

The first Sunday since my exams!

Well, I guess I was pretty stressed out from the exams, so today I was pretty impulsive... and I did a ton of shopping, hahaha.

I know I should say this after I've already bought things, but mail order is a monster, isn't it!? In hindsight, I don't really need these things, but when I watch the show, I just want them so badly...

Yeah, that's right.

Right now I'm regretting that I bought something I didn't need. A multi-purpose apron... what should I do? Ugh, it was Takeba.

5/25 (Mon) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

It's Kirijo. The results of the midterm exams were announced today. Akihiko was amazing! Excellent!

He had a hard time returning to the fight, and he seemed to be quite anxious before the exams, so I was worried he might lose his concentration, but he did a great job.

I told him that, but he turned his back on me, saying that he had to do it because it would set an example for his juniors. He's really not honest...

I'm a bit worried about the others. The leader seems to have been doing his best, but Takeba seems to have been staying in her room every day.

It seems she ended up with average results, and Junpei was... unbelievable.

As expected, they must be tired from going to Tartarus and defeating large shadows one after another. Although they look energetic, we need their help, but we can't let our activities affect their studies... We should be a little careful.

5/26 (Tue) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

Seriously... if you're going to make that much of a fuss then you should have just studied properly from the beginning.

Ah, sorry. Just when I came out of my room, I heard some voices coming from Junpei's room saying things like "Pathetic" and "What am I doing?", just pathetic and wondering what he was doing. Well, I guess it's understandable with those terrible test results.

Mitsuru was also quite upset about the grades of her juniors, but this was something that couldn't be helped unless everyone put in an effort. After hearing that shout, Junpei would probably think things through properly next time. Probably.

Plus, we happen to be living in the same dorm.

If push comes to shove, no matter how much he doesn't want to do it, I'll just force my way into his room and make him do some pre-exam practice.

Intensive training...that's a good word. I'm looking forward to the final exams.

By the way, we are still investigating Yamagishi. Let's hope she will become a valuable addition to our team.

5/27 (Wed) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

O-ki-na-wa!

…Oh, no, they were talking about Okinawa's beach opening on the evening news, so I just did it.

I was talking about that, so I just did it.

So, it's Junpei! The sea is really nice. My exams are over, and I want to have some fun, but I don't have any money or time... Ugh, I'm not going to be able to go to the sea for the rest of my life.

I feel like I say this every summer...ugh.

But the sea is nice. Blue sky! Black bikini! White sand! Red bikini! I want to go and play. Oh, by the way, what happened to the new girl? Does she like the sea?

5/28 (Thu) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

It's Kirijo. As always, Iori's report seems... stupid.

Well, from the beginning, I started these reports as just a memo for myself, and I don't have any strict reporting obligations. I'm just going to blurt out what I want to say, and if that makes me feel better, then that's fine.

It's good to use even if you're in the middle of nowhere.

Oh, speaking of Iori, I overheard him talking to Takeba in the lounge today, and it seemed like he was worried about his poor grades. It's easy to tell them to study, but I'll think about what I can do to help them more.

However... I noticed while Iori spoke that Magician's Arcana should have high magical power, so why does Iori's Hermes have such low magical power... Maybe next time, I'll get permission from him and study the correlation between abilities and Persona parameters? It's hard to find samples like that...

5/29 (Fri) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Uh, this is Takeba.

The exams are finally over, and there's some good news that we might even be hiring a new female member, so I should be in a good mood, but I'm in a bit of a bad mood today.

I overheard an unpleasant conversation in the school corridor...it was bullying.

I don't know who they were, but the two girls who seemed to be the bullies were talking about how they'd found out someone's weakness and how funny her crying face was, and stuff like that... and they were laughing out loud. Well, it wasn't an unusual story, so I just thought, "They must be bored," but... I ended up feeling annoyed afterwards.

Right now I have the power to call a Persona, right? Regardless of the type of power, the power is there to accomplish something, right? But even seeing that bullying scene and not being able to do anything...it's pathetic.

Sorry for complaining again. This was Takeba!

5/30 (Sat) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Well, it's Takeba for the second day in a row.

I was wondering what to do, but Kirijo-senpai asked me to keep a record of the matter, so I will continue on.

I don't know if it's related to the bullying issue I reported yesterday, but I found one of the girls I'd heard talking yesterday infront of the school gates this morning.

Yesterday, she was saying things like she was hearing voices and things that sounded like radio waves, so I thought something was a little strange...

6/1 (Mon) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

However, I don't know the details. I hope it was a coincidence. This was Takeba.

It's Kirijo... *sigh*. Well, something funny happened today. I couldn't help but laugh at the memory. Today's top news, which makes both Iori and Takeba laugh, is, without a doubt, the Junpei's Believe It Or Don't. I didn't know much about it, but apparently there was a comedian who told ghost stories, and Iori was imitating him. Akihiko says it sounds pretty similar, but even if you don't know the original comedian, it was still enjoyable.

To give a brief background, a rumor has spread around the school that a girl from class E in year 2 was found collapsed in front of the school gates, and that it was the work of a vengeful spirit. Iori told it in the form of a ghost story, but Takeba, who seems to have a hard time with ghosts, rebelled against it, and for some reason, he ended up investigating the truth of the ghost story.

I had originally planned to rely on them to at least conduct an investigation, but, how should I put it, the way Takeba was rushing headlong towards self-destruction... hehehe.

6/2 (Tue) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Um... My name is Takeba.

I can't sleep.

Since yesterday, I've given up Tartarus and I've been gathering information on ghosts... er, rumors, and everything I see, er... look weird.

I'm going to sleep with the TV on all night tonight...This was Takeba.

6/3 (Wed) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Good evening. It's time for Junpei Iori's report.

...Huh, to be honest, I've had enough of ghost stories.

Yuka-tan said that she's going to hold a report meeting and gather all the information she heard on Friday, but it's not that easy to gather information.

Oh, it's not that she can't find any information... it's just that there's too much.

If you walk down the hallway, 9 times out of 10 people are telling ghost stories. The remaining one seems to be about next week's "Phoenix Sentai Featherman R". I think next time, Swan will sing the full solo version of the theme song by herself or something.

Oh, well, leave Featherman aside. Anyway, there's way too much information! Is this what they call the information society's Heigai?

The ghost story I heard today was also a big mess, with one rumor leading to another and mixing with another... Anyway, the ghost story about how if you listen to the mysterious old lady's broadcast, you'll die covered in blood, I think I heard it as a rumor in a public school when I was in middle school. It's just too much to handle. I'm really tired.

6/7 (Sun) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

Come to think of it, the leader seemed to be doing some research. He was talking to someone from another class, which is unusual. He does things quietly. Well, I'll let it go for me now.

6/4 (Thu) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Eh... fuwaaah, it's Takeba. Uh, I was complaining the other day that I couldn't sleep, but today I'm actually really sleepy. Maybe it's because I was thinking about ghost stories so much last night, but I had a really bad dream... I'm a little sleep-deprived. It was bad during class.

I don't remember the details of the dream very well, I was locked in the school at night, and I was wandering around half crying, when suddenly the place changed to Tartarus. I suddenly had a bow and an Evoker, so this time I was charging ahead with all my might, but suddenly a shadow appeared, took off his mask and said, "How jealous of you"... he had Oiwa-san's face.

Ah, but the investigation is progressing smoothly. From the information we gathered yesterday and today, we found a small commonality among the victims. Ah, I forgot to mention this. There are multiple victims. Tomorrow, we will verify it and announce it at the briefing tonight. We will have the results next week, so please look forward to it. This was Takeba.

6/5 (Fri) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

Takeba seems a bit enthusiastic. She said she'd go to the site tomorrow, but please don't do anything dangerous.

Well, those guys are no amateurs. They're quite skilled. Even though it's a hangout for delinquents, they won't fall behind that much... I should contact him... No, that's impossible...

6/6 (Sat) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

This is Kirijo.

No, I don't know where I started, but today was a tough day.

I trusted them... No, I still trust them fully, but as second-year high school students, they seem to lack thoughtfulness. Well, if that's what they're saying, we third-years should have guided them with that in mind. Let's be happy about their safe return.

Tonight, they went to a delinquent hangout outside Port Island Station. I'd heard the rumors, but it seems that the lawlessness of the place was terrible. They seemed to have escaped a close call, but I'll tell them to be careful for a while.

However, there was a big gain. According to information obtained at the hangout, Fuuka Yamagishi, a potential member of the team, has been missing for the past week. Also, the girl who collapsed at school is said to be part of the group that was bullying Yamagishi. At worst, Yamagishi may be the mastermind behind this incident...

No, let's stop speculating. First, we need to hear the details from the homeroom teacher who covered up Yamagishi's disappearance - was his name Ekoda?

Now, what should we do...? Come to think of it, it seems that the one who helped Takeba and the others was Aragaki, who just happened to be there. I realized by chance that I had still not lost touch with him.

It's Kirijo. It's been a while since I've been reporting this in a row. Perhaps they're still tired from yesterday's "investigation" or perhaps they played too much on Sunday, but all the second-years are already asleep. I monitored them during the Dark Hour just now, and they seem to be fast asleep without even turning over.

Today, there was something that bothered me a little. Apparently the second-years all stopped by a shrine during the day, and while they were talking about it, I heard the name "Amada."

At first, I just thought it was a name I'd heard somewhere before, but I'm sure the victim of the accident three years ago had the same name...

6/8 (Mon) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

I'm seriously dead today... Oh, crap, report, report. Huh...? No, you see, when you get lost in the Dark Hour, your memories are somehow erased, that's common knowledge for Persona Users, right?

Well, it's a bit late now though.

Ugh, sorry. I'm so tired and just want to go to sleep.

Umm, can I just post them all together?

A girl named Fuuka Yamagishi was locked in the gym because of bullying, and ended up wandering into Tartarus. The reason she was safe after being lost for a week was because, while time here stops during the Dark Hour, time there also stops outside of the Dark Hour... or so I think.

When examining the clock on the bike/backup equipment that Kirijo-senpai brought to Tartarus, it seems that you can tell the difference in the movement of time inside and outside... or so it seems. Hmm, it's complicated and I don't really get it.

So, we sneaked into the school in the middle of the night, took the same route as Yamagishi and entered Tartarus, and a large Shadow appeared, but we defeated it with our efforts, um... was there anything else? Ah, that's right. Yamagishi's Persona was amazing. It seemed to have a radar-like function, and can see all the enemy's weaknesses!

Oh, by the way, Kirijo-senpai has an unexpected lack of humor. If I said she was cute, I'd probably get punched. Well, I thought she was hard to get along with, so I've changed my opinion of her a little. Oh, I forgot something important! The large Shadows appear on the full moon! A customer who comes once a month! This is important information!

6/9 (Tue) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Well, it's Takeba. Today, Kirijo-senpai and Sanada-senpai are away visiting Yamagishi-san and their friend Moriyama-san. So, Tartarus is on a break. I'm still tired from fighting a large Shadow, so I'm not in the mood for Tartarus anyway. Oh, did I mention I was watching over Yamagishi-san? But it's not like I'm being selfish or anything.

On the contrary, she was extremely effective in the battle against the large Shadow, and it feels like she might be the strongest. Now she's collapsed from exhaustion because she used all her powers at once, so she's been hospitalized just to be safe.

If I had that kind of power, I guess I would join in... but this time she learned that SEES' missions are life-threatening. It would be great if she would join, but I don't want to force her. Ah, but the leader was quite welcoming and pulled her in...

Ugh, I'm thinking about a lot of things. Anyway, I'm really glad that Yamagishi-san is safe and that we were able to defeat the Shadow. This was Takeba.

6/10 (Wed) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

It's Kirijo. Seriously, if I had taken my eyes off Iori for just a second, he'd have been a complete flop... What a poke. I admit that I do lack common sense in some areas, but... Oh well.

Well, today after I returned from visiting Yamagishi and Moriyama, I did some light sword training.

With Yamagishi joining the team, I will likely be on the front lines as well, so this is training for that.

The fencing club was on a break due to the midterm exams, and I didn't go to club activities as often as I thought because of my Student Council activities. It seems my skills have deteriorated more than I thought. I'm trying to be a little better so as not to be a burden to the hard-working second-year students.

I need to train hard.

Not only the leader and Yamagishi have shown remarkable abilities, but Iori and Takeba also have something special, even though they are still developing. As one of the original members of SEES... I can't lose. Maybe I should follow Akihiko's example and try that "special training" thing once in a while?

6/11 (Thu) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Ah, it's Takeba.

Good news... Yamagishi-san has been accepted into SEES. Kirijo-senpai's invitation seemed a bit pushy, and I was a bit worried she wouldn't accept, but she seemed keen...

For now, Junpei is simply happy. He's a really enviable guy. This was Takeba.

6/12 (Fri) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Hi, Junpei here! Today is truly a joyous and memorable day! Ahem... congratulations to our newest member, Miss Fuuka Yamagishi, on moving into the Iwatodai dormitory! Hip, hip, hooray! Yay! Cheers to our new friend, Fuuka!

Gulp gulp gulp... Phew! Oh, it's not alcohol. It's just Yotsuya sake.

Well, today Fuuka moved into the dorm, and I'm always excited to meet new people. Hehehe, it's good to have more members.

Yukari-chan seems a bit indecisive, but since they're both women, they'll quickly become friends. I heard that she was scheduled to move into the dormitory tomorrow, but it seems like she couldn't wait. Yeah, that's not bad!

6/21 (Sun) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Ah, speaking of Fuuka... It seems like her homeroom teacher, Ekoda, has been punished for this incident, but I guess this was the work of the seniors... Well, even us students were getting annoyed with his nasty remarks, so it was like, "Serves him right!" When I asked Senpai the truth, she grinned and said, "Do you want to know, Iori?" No, that smile was probably many times scarier than when Senpai was angry. Ugh, so scary! I have to make sure I don't say anything unnecessary.

6/16 (Tue) - Reporter: Fuuka Yamagishi

H-hello! Oh, no. Good evening... Um, it's Fuuka Yamagishi.

From now on, I'll be in charge of all the backup stuff, so Kirijo-senpai showed me around the operations room... but for some reason, I'm also doing this activity report thing...

…Eh? Is that so? Ah, ah, sorry! You couldn't hear me just now, right? She told me not to worry about it, since it was just a formality, even though it was a report.

So... that's right. Can I just give you my impressions of the operations room's functions? The facilities here are really amazing. I've heard that Kirijo Electronics' technology is the most advanced in the world, but this equipment is even more advanced. Apparently, they're still using prototypes for testing... I never thought I'd be able to touch such amazing machines in a club activity, it's like a dream come true. I'm not sure how much I can help you with, but I'll do my best, so please look after me.

Was it a bit... stiff?

Oh, so I saw an interesting topic on the news today, so I'd like to share it with you... Well, it seems that a new vehicle control system for new urban transit systems is currently under development. After the monorail accident the other day, in order to prevent a similar accident... Wait, what?! That accident was caused by Shadow?!

6/17 (Wed) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

It's going so well that I feel a little guilty for suddenly increasing our fighting power and feeling strangely relieved.

If the hypothesis we discovered this time is correct, there will be about three weeks until the next full moon and the appearance of a large Shadow. We've made a strengthening plan to match this schedule, and thanks to Yamagishi, our new navigator, the exploration of Tartarus is going well, so on the surface there are no problems. Nothing.

But as the saying goes, good things come with many troubles.

It's times like these that we need to be on our toes and do our best. Especially Junpei... Ah, maybe I'm being a bit harsh. Junpei, you're doing well too. Don't worry about it.

6/18 (Thu) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

H-h-hi, it's Junpei.

For some reason, the last thing Sanada-san said yesterday is bothering me... At times like this, I'm usually the first one to be told off, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't worry about it and follow me. But actually, when you're nice to me, it really makes me feel down...

Well, well, please do as usual! Um, nothing special happened today... I guess? Oh, that reminds me, the school was recruiting new cultural clubs. Fuuka has also returned to club activities, so that's great! Um, which club was it? Art club... Photography club? Huh? Well, please ask her.

6/19 (Fri) Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Well, it's Takeba.

You may not have noticed, but I've been thinking about some weird things lately, and I may have been acting awkward around my senpais. I'm sorry if it offended you!

It's fine if you don't understand. I'll do my best as I have been doing.

Changing the subject... but the day before yesterday on TV there was a program called "Approaching the Real Face of the Kirijo Group!" It was a program that made things weirdly scandalous and like a third-rate scoop magazine. It made me feel bad watching it, but if you're just looking from the outside, you can make the other person out to be the bad guy as much as you want. Seriously... if you have a complaint, you should find out the truth before you say anything! I feel like that. I also tend to go ahead with my speculations, so I'm a bit remorseful.

...Ahaha, you don't know what I'm talking about, do you? That's all for today. This was Takeba.

6/20 (Sat) - Reporter: Fuuka Yamagishi

Good evening, this is Yamagishi.

I heard some unbelievable things today. 12 types of Shadow... 8 remaining. I had no idea that research had progressed to the point where we knew such detailed information. I'm a latecomer compared to you all, so I have to learn more and more things. I'll do my best.

By the way, the Chairman was researching the purpose of Shadows, and he said that individual Shadows attack people for "predation", but... I feel that's not quite right.

My persona... Lucia seems to have the power to sense the hearts of people around me. It's not quite telepathy, but I can sense small emotions and instinctive desires. Well, what I'm trying to say is... when I was locked up in Tartarus, I felt the hearts of shadows. It wasn't like an appetite...to put it into words...it was like they were saying "I want to go home"...

Hi, it's Junpei.

Today, Kirijo-senpai and Sanada-san are out, so Tartarus is closed. Kirijo-senpai seems to have gone to her main house, but I wonder what Sanada-san did?

It was dinner time when he went out, so I guess he ate somewhere around Iwatodai Station! Then he got full and sleepy, and didn't feel like going to Tartarus! Also, I guess the dinner menu was Umiushi beef bowl!

Well, I don't really care.

6/24 (Wed) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

By the way, I heard that a dog came in front of the dorm in the evening. They said it was a smart, cute, loyal dog, but I wanted to see it. I quite like dogs.

6/22 (Mon) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

Too bad, Junpei lost. Yesterday was pure training. That's right. As a penalty for not winning, I'll have him join me in some early morning training tomorrow.

…I'm not joking, I'm telling you, I'm not kidding.

Well, lately, both Mitsuru and I have been out a lot, so I thought that we might have been neglecting our training at Tartarus. Since this is a good opportunity, I'll make a training menu for Junpei and the others.

The field leader is fine for now, but sometimes he seems a little lacking in spirit. Well, I think he's just quiet, but let's train together sometimes to deepen our friendship.

I'm worried about Takeba. She seems to be out of her mind lately... She seemed to be worried in her report the other day. We're only one year apart in age, so I know it's hard to trust us. But if you want, I'll give you some advice. Keep that in mind.

6/23 (Tue) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

It's Kirijo.

Fufu... Akihiko, you're saying things like a senpai would. I can't let myself lose.

Not only Takeba, but also Iori and Yamagishi, if anything happens, please come and talk to us. We may not be as reliable as adults, but we are the same generation and can share the same worries.

That being said, it's not like you can spill everything you're feeling. Everyone has things they can't tell others. But if you trust us, we'll do our best to help you.

Well, I've digressed. Let's get back to today's report. Today is a new moon. With half a month left until the full moon, an increase in the number of people with Apathy Syndrome has been observed again. Today, the news were broadcasting someone suddenly squatting on the road and blocking traffic, and it seems that this person was also apathetic.

Fortunately, so far, the accidents have been limited to just after the Dark Hour, when traffic is light, so there have been no major casualties. ...Well, the fact that some people have become apathetic means that there has been enough damage. In any case, we will be fully prepared for the full moon. That's all.

Oh, that's right. Akihiko, where did you go without saying anything today? I don't mind you going out, but Tartarus is coming up in the evening. If possible, it would be helpful if you could leave a message. And...it seemed to me that you didn't have much energy when you got back. It's fine to be worried about your juniors, but don't neglect your own troubles. Got it?

Hi, it's Junpei.

Hehe... Ukukuku... well, Kirijo-senpai's report the other day was about how worried she was about us and it made me really happy, but... there was one thing that really hit the spot.

Umm, the part at the top that says "Takeba, Yamagishi, and Iori should talk to each other"...oh, the leader has been forgotten.

Hey! Ahahahaha!

Oh man, sorry sorry, that was a bit too funny. Well, as Sanada-san said today, I get the impression that he doesn't worry too much and just gets on with things calmly, right? Sanada-san said he doesn't envy him, but honestly, I do.

No, you see, I'm at an age where I have a lot of worries, right? Bad grades at school, worries about not being able to get a girlfriend, I'm on the verge of going bald from all the worries... but I should point out that I'm not actually bald, I just have street fashion.

...

Now, back to serious matters... I appreciate your concern, Kirijo-senpai. Thank you. But at least I am okay. That doesn't mean I don't have any worries... I have to figure them out and solve them myself.

More importantly, are you okay, Sanada-senpai?

Today you seemed worried in front of the boxing club room. You've been working hard ever since you came back, so maybe you're tired?

6/26 (Fri) - Reporter: Fuuka Yamagishi

I may not be able to be of much help to you, but if there's anything I can help you with, please let me know.

6/25 (Thu) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Hmm, it's Takeba.

Junpei... What do you mean, "an age full of worries"? And your worry is "not being able to get a girlfriend"?

Oh, gross.

Really gross.

It's a bit weird to live under the same roof as this guy, so I'm going to submit a motion to move Junpei's room to the roof.

Now, back to serious matters... I appreciate Kirijo-senpai's consideration. Thank you. But at least I'm okay. That doesn't mean I don't have any worries... I have to check and solve them myself.

More importantly, are you okay, Sanada-senpai?

Junpei said today that you looked worried in front of the boxing club room. You've been working hard since you came back, so maybe you're tired?

We may not be able to rely on you, but if there's anything I can help you with, please let me know. This was Takeba.

Good evening, this is Yamagishi.

I feel like I've gotten used to these activity reports. But when I listen to the records from the past, I think they feel more like a communication notebook than an activity report. Hehe.

But I think it's good. This way, we can communicate our feelings and understand each other.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if that were the case?

Until recently, I was always thinking about how my words were not being understood by the people around me. But it's not like that here. Everyone, is considerate of each other. Even today, the Chairman of the board of directors came all the way out of his way to come... Well, there is a limit to what you can say, though. Phew...

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[slutforsilverfoxes]

Seeing Red (Part II)

Part I

[A/N: Okay, wow, y'all really liked that first part 🥹 Sorry for the long wait (baby doctor, clinics, all that jazz) but I hope you enjoy!]

—————

Re-questioning the witness hadn’t quite panned out yesterday. Gibbs and DiNozzo had returned with the escort in cuffs, but she was being detained for assaulting a federal officer, not the Lance Corporal’s murder. Ziva had attempted to interrogate Tony about what went down, but received only a muffled, “Don’t wan’ talk ‘bout it,” from behind the ice pack tending to his nose.

That, of course, didn’t deter the rest of you, and the following conversation ensued:

Tim: That five-foot-nothing woman hit you hard enough to break your nose?

Tony: Oh my god, do you think it’s broken? My facial symmetry will be all off.

Ziva: McGee, you are such a male sometimes. Women are not frail beings.

Tony: Is my face still symmetrical? Can someone look? Guys?

You: Y’know, ‘you hit like a girl’ isn’t actually an insult. Wanna see? I can help you match your buddy there.

Tony: Okay, but seriously, am I still pretty? Someone tell me I’m still pretty.

Suffice to say, the case was still ongoing.

Laughing under your breath at the memory, you pour some creamer into your coffee and take a test sip, letting out a discontented grunt at the taste.

“Tough enough to threaten breaking noses but can’t handle a little bitterness?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you pointedly roll your eyes at Gibbs before directing your attention back to your brew and adding more creamer, then a packet of sugar for good measure. “You know what they say: you are what you drink. That’s why you enjoy that bitter swill, and I like my coffee extra sweet,” you respond with a smirk, turning to lean against the kitchenette counter as you stir your coffee and bat your eyelashes in an exaggerated manner.

Gibbs barks out a laugh in response, then crowds into your space until he’s a mere breath away and quietly challenges, “Extra sweet, huh?”

Your lips part instinctively as his proximity to you sucks the air out of the room, and you feel your heart rate skyrocket. It takes every ounce of your willpower to not close the gap between you, to not give in and press your lips against his. Your fingers ghost over the sharp planes of his jaw, and you let out an airy, “Jethro.”

Leaning into your touch, he murmurs, “Yes, Y/N?”

You uncurl your fingers and use the flat of your hand to pat his cheek, and with a teasing lilt to your voice, question, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

His eyes flash, betraying his true feelings toward your innuendo, before he collects himself and steps away from the warmth of your touch. “Get to work, Y/L/N.”

Your eyes roam across Gibbs’ broad shoulders and make their way downward as he turns on his heel and starts heading back to his desk, passing Ziva and Tony (and Tony’s big ass bandage over the bridge of his nose) on his way. Appraising the silver fox’s solid form, you run your tongue over the ridges of your teeth before quietly declaring, “Yeah, I could take him.”

Snagging the communal coffee pot from beside you, Ziva follows your line of sight and one eyebrow shoots up. An air of amusement to her voice, she asks, “You think you could take Gibbs in a fight?”

“Sure, David,” you murmur, taking a sip to hide your coy smile, “that, too.”

You push off the countertop and strut towards the bullpen, hearing Ziva’s voice behind you. “Where is she taking Gibbs? Tony? Why are you smirking like that?”

__________

It’s been several hours since your last verbal sparring session with Gibbs, you’ve been hot all day since your almost kiss, and your repetitive phone calls (“No, there’s no way Collins was having an affair,” “No, Jack didn’t have any enemies,” “Everybody loved Jack! Who could have done this?”) are really starting to piss you off. Replacing the phone in its cradle, you let out a sigh and rub your temples, speaking aloud to the NCIS agents. “I can’t find anything nefarious related to the Lance Corporal’s joint operation. We’ve got no motive, no suspects, and our only ‘witness’ was hiding in the bathroom. If only she’d gotten our killer with her fists of fury.”

“Oh, shut up,” Tony grumbles, and your joke landing gets you to at least crack a smile.

“What’s the matter, Tony?” McGee fake sympathizes. “You don’t like being the punchline?”

“I’m gonna smack that smile right off your face, McGeek, I swear-”

“I’m gonna smack you all if you don’t do your damn jobs,” Gibbs barks as he rounds the corner.

You meet his steely gaze with a grin. “Tempting.”

He smooths his hand over his face, opens his mouth to respond, and then thinks better of entertaining your comment, instead turning his attention to his agents. “Somebody give me something, people, c’mon!”

“Actually, Boss,” Tim pipes up, “I think I’ve got something.” You all crowd around his desk, focused on his computer screen. “He’s been making anonymous donations to a scholarship fund for about six months. I did some digging, and it’s in honor of a seventeen year old kid named Charlie Stone who died three years ago in a hit and run accident.”

“Our Muhammad Ali in holding,” you chime in, deftly twisting away from Tony’s pinching fingers, “isn’t her last name Stone?”

“Pull up the accident report,” Gibbs orders, and Tim’s fingers fly across the keys as he inputs the information. “Witnesses report seeing a Black Chevy Silverado leaving the scene.” McGee does some more searching, pulling up DMV records for your victim.

You let out a whistle as your eyes scan the list, stopping on the vehicle Collins traded in a few years ago. “Turns out our golden boy wasn’t so golden.”

“I think it’s time we have another chat with Miss Stone.”

__________

You spot a familiar shock of silver hair rounding the corner in your peripheral vision, a triumphant smile on his face that falters at the sight of you perched on DiNozzo’s desk. Throwing your head back in laughter, you lay a hand on Tony’s upper arm, squeezing while you compliment his sense of humor. “I don’t believe you!”

He flashes you a grin and holds up three fingers. “Scout’s honor, Y/L/N. Ask Gibbs!”

“I’m surprised you don’t get hit by suspects more often,” you giggle, delicately brushing your finger down his healing nose, and Tony winces playfully.

“Oh, Tony gets slapped plenty,” McGee supplies giddily. “Being punched is new for him, though.”

With a smirk, you ask, “You like getting smacked around, DiNozzo?”

Leaning closer, he lowers his voice and responds, “Maybe by a pretty- Gibbs!”

A quick glance over your shoulder has you meeting icy blue eyes, and you gasp softly. “You really need to wear a bell or something,” you mutter. “It’s scary how quiet you are.”

“If you two are finished flirting on company time-” You roll your eyes, taking note of the way his own flash in response. “I got a confession. Case closed. You can return to your coven, Y/L/N.”

“Oh, aren’t you just a riot?” you snark back. “I have my own report to write up before I can get out of your graying hair.” You hop off Tony’s desk and head to your temporary setup, settling down with the case file before you.

“Your little comments are growing old.”

“They’re not the only thing,” you huff.

Gibbs slaps the file in his hands down on his desk, the sound causing you to flinch reflexively. “You speak to Fornell like you do to me?”

“You speak to your subordinates like you do to me?”

“I-” He stops short suddenly, keenly aware of three pairs of eyes darting back and forth, eating up your ping-pong match of thinly veiled insults. Clearing his throat, his next words are spoken with an eerie calm. “May I speak with you in private, Y/L/N?”

“Fine,” you answer just as coldly. “Do you have an office or shall I head to the elevator?”

His jaw ticks before he grits out, “Conference room. Now.”

You can feel the heat of his gaze on your back- and roaming lower- as he climbs the stairs behind you. Stopping at the top of the staircase, he turns to his team and says, “At least pretend to be doing work, would ya?”

The door clicks shut and you turn to Gibbs, arms crossed and foot tapping. “What?”

“You-” His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he shakes his head, at a loss for words. Stalking towards you, he forces you to retreat until the backs of your knees meet with the chair behind you and you drop into it. With his hands on the arm rests, he leans forward and growls, “You’re trying to force my hand.”

Looking up at him from beneath your lashes, you smirk and respond, “I would never do something so devious…unless it’s working.”

“You know what your problem is, Y/L/N?”

You take in a deep breath and immediately regret it, Jethro’s scent overwhelming your senses and your brain going fuzzy. Fighting through the daze, you challenge, “Besides you?”

He ignores the bait, slowly lowering into a squat so that he’s at eye level with you. Gibbs tilts his head, and the way his piercing blue eyes are analyzing you has your blood rushing in your veins, heating your skin and the traitor between your thighs. “You’re used to getting what you want. And you act like a brat when you don’t.”

“I am not acting like-” You stop short, averting your gaze. “I’m sorry for being disrespectful in front of your team.”

He tucks two fingers under your chin, guiding you back to look at him. He’s sporting a wolfish grin, and his eyes are ablaze with barely concealed hunger. “What a good girl,” he murmurs, and saliva pools in your mouth at the simple praise. “You just need some discipline.” You tamp down the urge to respond So discipline me, instead letting him lead your dance. If lines were going to be crossed, you’d rather follow in his footsteps than pull him to the other side.

Noting the change in your breathing, he brushes his thumb over your cheek and your eyes flutter closed. “Feeling calmer now?”

You drop your head into a nod, and he follows up with, “Gonna flirt with Tony some more?” This time, you shake your head, and your cheeks grow warm with shame. “Good girl,” Gibbs repeats, and you let out an involuntary little whimper.

Your eyes shoot open at the distinct sound of a door opening, worried that another NCIS agent is about to walk in and catch you in this very interesting predicament. Instead, you find yourself alone in the large conference room, the door swinging on its hinge.

“Bastard.”

[A/N... again: I try to write my fics as if they’re an episode of the show playing out, and figuring out how to write about the cases (and the inevitable plot twist in every ep) is so much fun. I hope you guys enjoy me entertaining my little crime-fiction-loving self :) Thank you for reading 🖤] ___ Tags:

@ilovemark1951

@ash-whimsicalfanfic

@thecubanator2

@ificantbringmydogimnotgoing

@kittenlittle24

@queenofthedreaming1

@instantnoooodles

@doctorwhofan24

[youkaiyume]

Hello, it's been a while since I did a rant. But WARNING for gross medical things:

SO it turns out my old nemesis the ovarian cysts have plagued me again. I found out about three weeks ago when a weird pain wouldn't leave my pelvis and went to urgent care and they suggested a CT scan. ONLY! for my insurance to deny me cuz they think I needed more probable cause for one so my doctor just recommended I go to the ER (which ironically is way more expensive for insurance to pay for than a simple CT scan but they did it to themselves lol).

Turns out I have cysts on BOTH of my ovaries FUN. But the left one is very concerningly big and probably needs to be removed but I can only do so by getting an approval of an OBGYN. So after finding one and waiting for my blood tests to come back so she can determine if she can surgically remove it--

YESTERDAY I had a SUDDEN AND SEVERE pain that hit me. I was at a solid 10 on that pain scale and vomiting and sweating so I drove myself to the ER again for the second time in two weeks. Frustratingly, the MALE doctor came back and was just like "well it looks like while we were doing your ultrasound you weren't consistently experiencing pain" which I was ready to bite his head off because let me tell you. While I was laying stretched out letting them do the ultrasound I was in the worst pain the ENTIRE time. And it was not a short ultrasound. It lasted over 20 mins and even after they asked me if I could survive sitting through the vaginal ultrasound after which would be another 25 mins. And those are painful just for the stick poking around in your yoohoo alone. I begged for pain relievers and when I described it they were like "oh that's labor level pains"

SO Mr. I don't have a Uterus doctor, DON'T TELL ME that your machine says I wasn't in pain. He even hit me with a "well I don't know what your pain tolerance is" as if to minimize or make me feel like I was overblowing what I was feeling. Like, fuck that guy. But because technically the imaging showed that the cysts haven't ruptured or caused my ovaries to twist it was considered "non emergent" and so the just gave me painkillers and then sent me home and reiterated that the only way I could get it removed at this point was to beg my OBGYN and convince her it was an emergency. In the meantime it was "oh you'll have to live with LABOR LIKE PAINS 24/7 until they let you have surgery." In the meantime they said I should only return to the ER after I've took all my pain meds and my pain doesn't improve OR if something worse happens. like a rupture.

WHICH btw are the exact same symptoms I have today so I was like how will I know cuz I can't imagine a worse pain than this one to which they were like "shrug"

I was in tears. Oh but it gets EVEN BETTER. Called my OBGYN this morning and she said my blood tests came back and that unfortunately they detected higher than usual levels of cancer markers in the cyst so that means she can't surgically remove them for me, she has to foist me to an Oncologist so THEY can remove it. She tries to say it doesn't necessarily MEAN cancer but hnnnnnggg that does not help with my anxiety at the moment.

Now calling the Oncologist to make an appointment today was a whole ordeal itself cuz their system kept going to voicemail so I had to call all the departments until they finally let me through but I had to run back to the hospital to try to get my Ultrasound discs for them. But even then they were like "your appointment isn't until next Wednesday" because THATS when the doctor meanders into work. So I'm like OH so like, in the meantime what if something happens??? And they're like well you gotta call back your OBGYN to see if you have other options. Which turns out she is also out. Until Tuesday. So I'm like. Guess I'll die then!

I don't even want kids!!! These ovaries have caused me nothing but trouble!!! Please rip them from my body!!

[ghostxrose]

𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝑴𝒆 | 𝑨𝒊𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒂 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

Part One | Part Two

Tags/Warnings ~ Fem!Guardian Angel!Reader, canon typical violence, character injury, angst, hurt, comfort, fluff, medium-slow burn because Shota is bad at feelings, more tags to come as the story develops..

Note ~ Hi, Lovelies! Here's the next part of the story, I hope that you all enjoy! And if y'all could, please send some motivational vibes my way because I am sorely lacking! Anyway, I love and appreciate you all, My Lovelies! <3

You sit at the end of Shota’s hospital bed watching him sleep. It wasn’t long after arriving at the hospital that his translucent figure flickered harshly, then vanished. Much to your relief, his ghostly apparition’s disappearance only meant that his soul firmly planted itself back into his body. But sitting cross-legged at his feet, your eyes tracing the bandages covering his face, you still feel such a strong sense of failure. Along with the failure is a new, unfamiliar feeling.. loneliness.

The day passed with Shota stuck in a deep, medication-induced slumber. Doctors and nurses came in and out of the room to check on him. At one point, Hizashi came by to sit at Shota’s bedside and quietly cry for a bit. You had spoken some with his Protector, the being feeling it necessary to commend you on all of your efforts to keep Shota safe during the attack. Despite your feelings on the matter, you thanked the other Protector for their kind words. When Hizashi was told that he had to leave for the night, his Protector bid you farewell and you nodded your head to them as they left.

The hours tick by slower than you’ve ever felt before, but soon enough light from the full moon outside casts a wondrous glow in the room. You marvel at it as you sometimes do since beings such as yourself don’t require sleep. After a while, the feeling of being watched pulls your attention from the window. You look first toward the door, wondering if a nurse and their Protector had somehow sneaked into the room. Seeing no other being, you slowly turn your gaze to Shota’s face, eyes widening as they meet his partially opened ones.

“Do you sit at my feet like a cat every night?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he continues looking at you with lidded eyes. A cross between a scoff and a bewildered laugh leaves your mouth. You choose to ignore your confusion, obviously something about this lifetime is different, even if you don’t know what or why.

“I do not… Oftentimes, I stand at a window and observe the night… I can move if you are uncomfortable with my current position…” You offer, already preparing to stand.

“No… The static feeling of your presence is.. nice.” He whispers as his eyes slip shut, his breathing deepening to the usual cadence it takes when he’s asleep.

‘He.. he can feel my presence..?’ You ask yourself as you sit in silent shock. You shift back into your original position and wish that there was someone or some other being you could hurl all of your questions at.

𖤛 𖤛 𖤛

Both you and Hizashi’s Protector stand near the window as the two humans talk. Hizashi had arrived earlier this morning just before Shota woke up, so you didn’t have the chance to test if he could truly still see and talk to you. You now find the test unnecessary with Shota’s eyes occasionally drifting in your direction every now and then. By the nth time Shota’s dark eyes meet yours, you’ve had enough of your fellow Protector’s questioning looks.

“I am just as confused as you are…” You tell them, pulling your eyes from Shota’s to look at the Protector you’ve known for a good fifteen years by now.

“So, he can see you…” Akari states rather than asks, and you nod your head.

“When he.. when he was dying yesterday.. his soul separated from his body and we were able to talk to one another… I do not understand why.. and when he was brought here, and his soul re-bound itself to his body, he was still able to see and talk to me… The whole situation has left me truly.. puzzled…” You explain, finding it a struggle to get the words “he was dying” out of your mouth. The guilt and shame that you’ve had to repeatedly shove down worming their way back to the surface along with your confusion.

“That is quite peculiar… Is.. is this your first pairing with his soul?…” Akari’s hesitant question catches you off guard, and you look at them with a stunned expression.

“N-no, but.. have you had repeats as well?…” You whisper, desperate to know if this sort of thing has happened to any other Protector. It’s Akari’s turn to look stunned, and a look of relief washes over their features.

They cast a glance over at Hizashi before looking back to you with a small smile, “Only with Hizashi’s soul… This is my third lifetime as his Protector…”

Akari’s admission draws a gasp from your mouth, and you can’t help but feel relieved that another one of your kind knows some of what you’re going through. Feeling Shota’s eyes on you, you turn to meet his questioning gaze. You shake your head slightly, silently telling him that you’ll talk with him later. He stares at you for another moment before looking back toward Hizashi.

“This is my fourth lifetime as Shota’s Protector… I was beginning to think I was the only one experiencing this.. and I never felt the need to ask any other Protector about it… I simply figured that it was just part of the job…” Akari nods their head in relation to your words and casts another glance at Hizashi.

“What do you think is the reasoning for it?…” They quietly ask, as if voicing their question any louder would make everything fall away and send them off to another pairing.

Your own gaze wanders to Shota, a small smile pulling at your lips at his feigned annoyance over whatever Hizashi said, “I am not quite sure.. but whatever the reason may be.. I am just happy to be Shota’s Protector…”

𖤛 𖤛 𖤛

It’s early evening when Hizashi takes his leave, promising to come back tomorrow morning to pick up Shota when he’s discharged. You gaze out the window as a nurse comes into Shota’s room and feeds him dinner. With his arms in casts, the nurse has to actually feed him and now that he can see you, you figure that you won’t hurt his dignity more by watching him be fed. It’s only when you hear the door close behind the nurse that you make your way back to his bedside.

Shota eyes you for a moment before carefully leaning his head back on the pillow and closing his eyes with a tired sigh, “You can sit down if you’d like.”

Wordlessly, you accept the invitation and sit cross-legged on the spot where he had made space for you at the end of his bed. Absentmindedly, your eyes trace the paths of his bandages like you’ve done a hundred times over since he’s been in the hospital. Sensing your eyes on him, Shota opens his and studies you for a moment or two.

“Stop it.” He demands in a firm yet gentle tone, and your gaze pulls from his bandages to meet his stern one.

“What?…” You question, slightly confused, and he lets out another sigh.

“Stop beating yourself up.” He clarifies before continuing, “You did more than enough to protect me back at the USJ. I put myself in this bed. Not you. Me.”

Biting your lip, you search Shota’s eyes for the blame you feel you deserve, but all you find is the firm resolve that was in his tone, “If.. if you insist…” You relent quietly, a bit of doubt still laced in your tone. Taking what he can get, Shota lets the matter go for now and chooses to move the conversation along.

“Earlier, when Hizashi was here, I assume you were talking to his..” Shota pauses to think about what to call you and your kind.

“The term ‘Protector’ works just fine, Shota… Most of us refer to each other as such, anyway…” You provide with a small smile, appreciating his effort to call your kind by the “correct” name.

“Okay, then.. You were talking to his Protector? I couldn’t see or hear them like I can with you, but I figured you weren’t just talking to yourself.” Shota’s voice holds the same tired, stoic tone you’ve come to know over the last thirty years, but you can see the curiosity in his eyes.

“And, if I was talking to myself?… What then, human?…” You tease with a playful smile, and you can tell by the small, amused huff that Shota lets through his nose that he’s hiding a small smirk underneath his bandages.

“Then I would assume that we both have brain damage,” he jokes, albeit dryly, but you’ve always found humor in his brand of comedy.

Your giggle gives an ethereal echo and you shake your head at him, “Their name is Akari… I suppose they could be considered a friend… At the very least, they are somewhat of a coworker to me by human standards… I have interacted with them quite a bit since you became friends with Hizashi… They informed me earlier today that they seem to be in almost the same situation as I…”

Shota gives a slightly surprised and intrigued look before an almost dismayed sigh leaves his mouth, “I can’t believe I haven’t thought to ask until now… What’s your name?”

A small, amused laugh passes through your lips, “Considering that you were not even supposed to know of my existence, it is quite alright… Most of us do not have names and some will choose a different name for themselves with every new pairing… The name I have chosen for myself is Y/N…” You inform him before giving your name with a warm smile on your face.

Shota repeats your name quietly to himself as if testing it on his tongue, and something about hearing him say it makes you feel warm inside. Your mind doesn’t have time to question the feeling when he speaks again, “So, what is this ‘situation’ that you mentioned?”

You find yourself hesitating for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain the whole thing to a man who lives almost religiously by logic and rationality. You suppose that since he took to finding out about your existence so well maybe your next words won’t sound completely.. insane.

“Let us start with how long I have been protecting souls…” You begin gently, hoping that he can manage to put aside whatever his beliefs or disbeliefs are about concepts beyond the human plane of existence.

Once you’ve finished explaining your entire confusing and strange situation, a long silence follows. The look in Shota’s eyes is hard for you to read as he stares down at his lap, so you’re not sure what he could possibly be thinking. Feeling like you’ve finally pushed him over the edge of thinking he has truly lost it, you silently stand and move toward the window. You watch the sun slowly dip below the horizon as the silence continues. You hear movement behind you and your intuition spikes causing you to whip around to see Shota slowly standing up from the bed.

“What are you doing?… You should be resting still, Shota…” Your confused and concerned words do nothing to stop Shota from shuffling his way to your side. When he gets to the window sill, he leans lightly against the wall and gazes outside for a few moments before looking at you.

“Let me get the facts straight,” he starts, quietly. “You’ve been protecting people for thousands of years, without the need for reason. In all that time, you never protected the same person more than once until me. You also believed that you were the only one experiencing this until your talk with Hizashi’s Protector. Even so, you still don’t know why this is happening. Does that about sum everything up?”

‘He doesn’t sound like someone who believes they should be locked in the psych ward…’ You think with a hesitant smile before speaking, “I believe so… Listen, Shota.. I know how all of this may sound to a human… You are probably still wrapping your head around my very existence and being able to see me… But I.. I feel just as confused and disbelieving as you do…” Your smile falls as you speak, your expression and tone something of uncertainty as you turn to gaze back out the window.

Shota sighs as he steps away from the wall and comes to stand right up against your ethereally glowing body, your shoulder phasing slightly through his as he follows your gaze out the window, “It is a lot to try to understand, but living in a world where humans are born with superpowers.. it wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to believe in other forces at work out there in the universe.”

You turn your head to look at him in shock before a small huff of a laugh slips past your lips, “I have gotten to know your soul pretty well over the last five hundred years, Shota.. gotten to know that no matter the lifetime, who you are does not change like your name or appearance does… So, I am surprised that you are being so open-minded about this… You never were one for ideals like religion or higher powers or unseen beings… So, where has the real Shota gone?…”

Shota lets out a small, quiet chuckle at your slightly teasing tone, and turns his head slightly to meet your eyes, “I’m actually pretty open-minded when it comes to a lot of subjects. I just find that my time is better well spent focusing on what’s tangible in this world rather than what hasn’t even been proven to exist, that’s all.” He retorts in a tired tone that doesn’t match the teasing glint in his eye.

You playfully roll your eyes with a soft giggle before giving a small shake of your head, “Ah, I see… Well, all teasing aside, our situation may be odd but at least now I can warn you of danger easier… Though, I will try not to be a nuisance…”

Shota lets out a quiet huff as he turns to start walking back to the bed, “Don’t worry about being a nuisance. Between being Class 1-A’s teacher and being a Pro, seeing and hearing you will be significantly more helpful in tough situations.” He says as he carefully gets onto the bed, a quiet groan leaving him as he lays back.

You let out a quiet and affirmative hum as you follow behind him, then take a seat at the end of the bed by his feet when he makes space for you. You watch as he gets as comfortable as anyone could get with injuries like his when his eyes meet yours. You silently question the embarrassed scowl he’s shooting you until the realization hits you. You mumble an apology before quickly shifting your gaze to the window. Among the many little habits you’ll have to break now that he can see and hear you, just watching him for the sake of observing him is going to be the first.. and the hardest.

𖤛 𖤛 𖤛

The next day, Hizashi bursts into Shota’s room sputtering apologies for being twenty minutes late picking him up. Shota just brushes him off with a grumble of feigned annoyance while you and Akari giggle quietly to yourselves. A nurse comes in shortly after Hizashi’s arrival, pushing a wheelchair up to the side of Shota’s bed. Shota immediately begins protesting having to be wheeled out to Hizashi’s car, insisting that he can walk just fine.

“I know I said I would not be a nuisance, but listen to the nurse, please Shota…” You say a bit firmly as the timid nurse tries explaining to Shota the hospital’s policies.

With an irritated huff, Shota reluctantly moves from the bed to the wheelchair, grumbling slightly under his breath. You smother a giggle as you take in Hizashi’s shocked expression, the blonde clearing having expected more of a fight from Shota. However, the giggle slips free some when you catch the brief glare thrown your way from Shota as the nurse pushes him out of the room.

Hizashi stopped by UA so that Shota could talk to Nezu and go by Recovery Girl’s office. Despite the insistence from Nezu, Hizashi, and yourself to take off a few more days, Shota firmly stated that he would be returning to work the next day when classes resumed. During the walk to the infirmary, you couldn’t help the displeased feeling that had settled over you from Shota’s stubbornness. As a Protector, it’s normal to disagree with decisions that could impact the well-being of the human one is paired with, but this felt like.. more than that. Sighing to yourself, you choose to not overthink your feelings so as to not add more confusion to your already puzzling situation.

You and Akari stood by the window of the patient room while Recovery Girl examined Shota’s injuries. Luckily, she determined it safe enough to use her Quirk on Shota, even if it didn’t heal Shota as much as he may have wanted it to. By the time it was said and done, he was still bandaged up like a mummy, but at least his casts were able to be redone so that he could use his fingers. As you and Akari silently followed your humans to Hizashi’s car, you still hadn’t been able to shake your displeasure.

Finally getting back to Shota’s apartment, you stood behind him as he deflected every one of Hizashi’s attempts to stay and help. A bit dejectedly, Hizashi bid Shota goodbye, while you just silently nodded at Akari, still mostly lost in your thoughts. Once Shota shut the door with a tired sigh, you wordlessly made your way to the dining room window. It’s one of your favorite spots in the apartment with its view overlooking the city.

“Are you going to be silent and brooding for the rest of the day?” Shota asks, his tone is tired and slightly irritated as you hear his socked feet shuffle toward the kitchen. You feel a mixture of emotions as you tamper down a spike of irritation, your confusion over your situation only increasing.

“You should eat, then get some more rest since you insist on returning to work tomorrow…” You say in an even tone as you continue gazing out the window. You realize that your wording most likely comes across as petty, and maybe you want it to since he ignored you back in Nezu’s office. You hear Shota open the refrigerator and let out an irritated sigh, rummaging around for a moment before letting the door close a bit harder than necessary. You turn around to face him at the sound of condiments and jars inside the refrigerator knocking around.

“My students need to see that I’m okay. What they went through was terrifying, even for Pros like myself. None of them deserved to experience a villain attack like that before their careers have even started to begin. It’s my responsibility to be their face of strength-” Shota angrily defends his decision, most likely easily riled up from pain and exhaustion, but it only serves to irritate you more and cut him off.

“I understand that, but it is my responsibility to make sure no harm comes to you, even if the threat to your well-being comes from you… You need more time to recover, Shota… You are not ready to return to work in your condi-” You say firmly trying to maintain an aura of calm until he cuts you off.

“But in the end, it’s my decision! Your job is to silently protect me when it is necessary. I’ve made it through the last thirty years of decision-making based on my own judgment just fine, Y/N. Me being able to see and hear you now doesn’t change that.” Shota snaps, and you can’t help but feel taken aback and.. hurt. There are a couple moments of tense silence broken only by the sound of Shota taking a few deep breaths.

Your mind is once again reeling from how deeply you feel your emotions, but outwardly you straighten up and slip into emotionless professionalism, “You are correct… I apologize for overstepping, it will not happen again…” You state before turning back toward the window, ignoring the pain in your chest. You can feel Shota’s eyes on you, but neither of you says anything more, not even when the ethereal glow of your body flickers and dims a bit.

Divider Credit ~ @cafekitsune

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 55 (Major Mom Guilt)

Heather waited to tell Malcolm about Ash's accident until they returned from the hospital the next morning. She usually texted, but this time she phoned.

She fidgeted through several anxious rings before he picked up. "You never call. What's going on?"

Her heart jumped into her throat. "It's Ash," she choked out. "He's okay, but he...he had an accident."

"What kind of accident?" Malcolm surprised himself with how quickly he lost track of his surroundings, toppling a stack of papers he'd been meaning to ask someone to file for over a week. "Where is he?"

"He's at home. He was playing at daycare yesterday and hit his head, but doctors cleared and discharged him this morning."

Malcolm was quiet. "Why didn't you call me last night?"

"It wasn't on purpose. I couldn't think straight about anything. It was late when the doctor said he'd be fine, so Conrad and I stayed at the hospital all night and we got back five minutes ago."

"I...I had an interview but I'll get one of the other reporters to cover it. I want to come see him."

Heather didn't expect Nancy and Malcolm to drop everything and drive all the way from San Myshuno, but later that day they came to see for themselves that Ash was okay.

He'd been cheerful and talkative before they arrived. But in front of his father and grandmother he whined about his head and said he was hungry, even though he'd just eaten.

Nancy chastised Heather while she and Conrad tried to make dinner. "He doesn't eat. He spends all day at a cut-rate daycare in this half-baked town that almost left us planning a funeral, and you work all day, every day, at the clinic you love so much. Maybe if you cut the asparagus spears smaller, Ash could eat them."

"He eats," Heather insisted. "He's testing boundaries and he knows you and Malcolm will both give him what he wants if he whines."

"My son and I discussed transferring him to a private preschool in the city on the way here. They're much more exclusive and have better childhood educators than the glorified nannies at his little daycare."

"They need the same qualifications in Brindleton Bay as they do in San Myshuno," interjected Conrad, continuing the meal as Heather's stress level forced her to temporarily step away from her knives. "It was an accident."

Nancy ignored him. She liked Conrad a lot less now that he was with Heather, but she didn't have it in her heart to hate him outright. "We started the application but we can't submit it without your signature," she said, placing the coiled booklet on the kitchen table in front of Heather. "We think it would be good for his education."

Heather said nothing, getting up to check the food Conrad had placed on the stove while he tidied the kitchen.

Malcolm could feel the tension when he came down the stairs. "Ash went down a lot easier than he does at the penthouse."

"Thanks for helping get him back to sleep. The hospital bed wasn't the most comfortable for him," said Heather. She braced herself, glancing at the onions she was chopping to add to the meal. "Did you and Nancy want to stay for dinner?"

Malcolm shook his head. "I'm glad to know he's okay, but we should head back. My mother can still make her corporate ski trip in Mount Komorebi if we get on the Simmerloop before rush hour."

He glanced at the table and spotted the half-completed preschool application. He looked up again to find Heather studying his expression.

"What are you thinking, Malcolm?"

He glanced between his mother and his ex, both headstrong in their own ways. "I want what's best for my son."

Heather waited until he left with his mother before she tossed out the application with the trash.

"I swear I could fight her, but I feel horrible enough already."

"I know she's...intense. But I think she's as shocked as you are," said Conrad.

"Nancy has a right to be upset? I have a right to be upset!"

"Of course you do! I just mean, don't pick a fight with her over the application. It's gone now, right? Hopefully she'll calm down and won't bring it up again."

Heather scowled. "Private preschool! The second Nancy gets her hands on my son's education, she'll ship him off to boarding school in Champs les Sims, just like his father. I'll never allow it!"

"I love you, and I'm only saying this because I love you, but maybe Ash needs to go back to his old daycare. It was a freak accident, no one's fault."

"They weren't watching him!"

"They were, but they looked away for one second. Do you know how many cases I've dealt with where something happened in the blink of an eye that changed everything? Ash is lucky, but you can't dwell on what might have been."

"I'll take him to work with me for a while, until I know Dr. Serra was right and he's okay. He loves the animals."

Conrad shook his head. "It's not going to be stimulating enough for him and you know that. And you can't do your best work watching him over your shoulder all day."

"I have to keep him safe!"

"You do keep him safe. No one keeps him safer than you, but if you hold on too tight now you'll end up holding on too tight forever. Like Nancy."

That was all she needed to hear to force her to swallow her pride. Despite her fears after his accident, she knew he needed to spend his days with kids his own age and made plans to send him back to daycare.

Heather's busy work life would continue to compete with the needs of her family, but she was determined to find a way to manage both. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

[lieslab]

To Saturn and back

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Summary: After being brain-dead and on a ventilator for days, Hyunjin is forced to cope with the realization that you're not coming back.

Pairing: Hyunjin X gn reader

Genre: Angst with no happy ending

Word Count: 1.7K

_ _ _

“I don’t know how to let you go.” Hyunjin finally spoke up. After staying by your side for days while you remained unconscious in the hospital, the soft beeps of the heart rate monitor were the only thing keeping him company besides your steady breathing. 

The sharp smell of antiseptic filled your room. No matter how many hours he stayed by your side, he couldn’t get used to it. He watched your chest move up and down in silence. His tears stopped flowing at some point as his sorrow ebbed into a state of numbness. 

“I know it’s selfish of me to want you to stay, but you’re still warm.” His hand slipped into yours and he wrapped his fingers around the back of your palm. He used to say the two of you fit together like a perfect puzzle. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up from this nightmare.” 

“One of these times, I’ll look up and I’ll be able to see your eyes flutter open.” A broken chuckle fell from his lips. “You used to look at me with such affection. It always warmed my heart. One look from you seemed to melt my worries away.” He kept his eyes focused on your hands. 

“I’ve begged the doctors to change the outcome, but it’s always the same. Every test they run, you don’t respond, and that’s how I know you’re really gone. If you were still here, you’d try so hard to prove you were alive.” His thumb dusted against the top of yours. “I know you would if you could.” 

His words stopped for a few moments and his gaze went to your face. How cruel of the world to present you to him as a sleeping beauty. You looked like you were sleeping and showed no signs of being brain-dead. The dim lights behind your bed casted shadows on your face. He tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

The ventilator had been secured around your head with a plastic strap. A clear plastic tube was cautiously eased into your throat by the steady hands of a doctor. The larger tube tapered off into two smaller blue tubes. One pushed in oxygen whereas the other pulled out carbon dioxide.  

“Your family came to visit a few times. I remember how lively your family was when we visited them for the holidays. They were so upbeat and happy. Warm smiles, open arms, and tight hugs.” His heart stung at the memory. “They’re trying their best to cope.” 

“I hope wherever you are, I hope you don’t blame yourself. Nobody ever asks for these things to happen, they just do.” He shut his eyes for a moment. A soft sigh escaped his lips. “We’ve been hoping and praying that you’ll come around, but…” His voice lowered, “it’s been a few weeks now.” 

“I think it’s time we l-let,” his voice cracked, “you go.” He swallowed the uncomfortable lump in his throat and went on. “Your family couldn’t be here for this and I’m sorry, but they’ve known you your whole life. This is the most difficult decision they’ve ever had to make.” 

“They all said their final good-byes yesterday and I hope you heard them. They really care about you, you know? We all do.” His attention was pulled from you when there was a knock and the door opened. 

A nurse stood in bright blue scrubs. Her mouth opened to say something, but her gaze softened upon the scene before her. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but the doctor would like to know when you’re ready to…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the words. 

“Is it alright if I have a few more minutes?” 

“Of course,” she forced herself to smile. “Please take all the time you need.” She spun around and shut the door without another word. 

Hyunjin’s attention went back to you. He tried to memorize the feeling of your hand in his. This was the last time the two of you would be together. He bit down on the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes again. 

“I have to keep reminding myself you’re already gone. Deep down, I know you’re gone, in my heart, but my brain wants to tell me otherwise.” He reopened his eyes and pulled his hand away from yours. 

Without a word, he stood up and moved toward your hospital bed. He sat on the edge of it and grabbed your hand again, this time with both of his hands. “Your family spoke to the doctors and they’ve decided to donate some of your organs.” 

“I struggled with it, at first, because I didn’t want to imagine that, but the doctors have told us about the receivers. There’s a five year old boy who struggles with kidney failure. Your kidneys are going to him and the doctors say if everything goes right, he could have a normal life.”

A memory popped up of the two of you walking in a park. The two of you were holding hands and talking when a kid fell off the swing. You let go of Hyunjin’s hand and rushed over to console the crying child. You wiped away their tears, pulled a band-aid out of your bag, and reassured her everything would be alright as you bandaged her scraped finger. 

“And there’s a father of two children that’ll receive your liver. The doctors said he’s fighting liver cancer. I got to meet with him and talk to him. He has two cats and a goldfish,” Hyunjin chuckled. “Can you believe he has a goldfish? I’ve never met anyone with a single pet goldfish.” 

“And your heart is going to a woman around your age. She just had a baby a few weeks ago. She needs the heart, so she can raise her baby.” Tears pricked up in his eyes. “I wish it didn’t have to be yours, but you own the biggest heart I’ve ever known.” 

“You might not be alive anymore, but parts of you are going to keep on living. I think if you were able to hear that, you’d be at peace with it. You always liked helping people. You’re one of the most selfless people I know.” 

He moved forward and gently laid himself between the small opening of you and your bed. His tears blurred his vision as he glanced over at your face. He pushed a piece of your hair away from your forehead with a trembling hand. 

“I’m going to miss everything about you. The way you used to smile at me when I came home. The warmth of your body when I crawled into bed after a long day of work. The home cooked meals you used to make sometimes. All those times I annoyed you while we shopped for groceries.” He laughed at the memory. 

“I know it’s part of life and this is how it works. I have to let you go, I know you’d want me to, but I miss you so much. I don’t want to do this without you.” 

The suppressed emotions were bubbling up inside him. He was hit with a wave of anger and his voice came out a little louder. “Why can’t you just wake up? We need you here! I need you!” His ugly sobs filled the room. He rolled over and stuck his head in your chest. 

He wasn’t met by the comfort of your arms. The soft sound of your voice never appeared. You used to gently tug your fingers through his hair, but that was gone too. Your heart monitor continued to beep. Your brainwaves ceased to exist. The ventilator continued to breathe for you. 

He sobbed until his throat was raw. Snot and tears coated your hospital gown. His arms wrapped around you and he moved beneath the ventilator tube to listen to your heartbeat a final time. 

He closed his eyes and laid there for a while. The nurses must have heard his sobs from outside the room. They must have decided to let him experience this human misery in peace. His heart had cracked open like an eggshell and the only thing left behind was the runny intangible feeling of despair. 

After a while his sobs turned into quiet singing. His voice cracked and the pitch was wrong, but it didn’t matter. The never ending stream of sadness flowed out of him in the form of your favorite songs. With his ear pressed to your chest, he sang, and sang, and sang until he finally ended it with your favorite song. 

When he finished, he was left with a hollow ache in his heart. This was it, the end of everything, he was alone now. He forced himself to pull away from you. He took in your face a final time. 

The way your eyelashes brushed against the tops of your cheeks. The slope of your nose. The feathered eyebrows that you used to get mad at because you had to pluck them regularly to keep their shape. 

He leaned forward, so his face was a few inches away from yours. “Please just wait for me. Wherever you are, I’ll find you one day. If you’re not there, I’ll find you in the next life.” His bottom lip quivered, “I-I promise.” 

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the middle of your forehead. They remained there for a few seconds until he pulled away. “I love you to Saturn and back.” 

Saturn was your favorite planet. It had been your favorite planet ever since Hyunjin bought a telescope after you mentioned you liked space in a passing conversation. For your latest birthday, he bought the telescope and set it up to view the planets and stars.  

He set up a picnic for you on top of a hill. The two of you watched the sun set side by side. You fell asleep in his lap and he woke you up when it was dark enough to see the planets. After spending nearly twenty minutes searching the cloudy darkened sky, you finally found Saturn. 

It was your thing ever since that night.

I love you to Saturn and back.

Such a simple phase that held so much meaning to the two of you. That picnic was the place where Hyunjin asked you to date him. It was beneath those stars that the two of you shared your first kiss. 

He gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze before he reached over to press the call button to let the nurses know that it was time. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

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[honey-minded-hivemind]

Hey guys. I'm a bit stressed. Also conflicted. Worried, too.

My grandpa is supposed to come home today. If not today, then Tuesday. On the one hand, I'm glad he'd be well enough to come home. But I'm also stressed for a number of reasons. Some of them include: he lied to the hospital about some things (ex. how often he eats, that he's more capable than he is right now, etc. ); he keeps asking to go home, and is being stubborn about it (which worries me and my parent, because the doctors need to run their tests if we hope to make him more comfortable and know what's going on); and the fact my parent and I are so, so stressed and worried and exhausted. I felt sick about all of this, like nauseous kind of sick, yesterday night when we visited him. I had to take a break twice so I could calm my stomach and my thoughts. I love him, more than I could ever say, but this is so, so much for my parent and I to do. For about four years we've taken care of him and his every need. And since October of last year, I've had to stay home to help him. The last few months it has gotten worse, with my parent and I having to do everything for him: dressing, cleaning, helping him walk (he's too stubborn to use the wheelchair or the walker we got him, or any of the canes we got). The doctor said he has some early dementia, so that might be why he isn't always remembering things or being so stubborn. I'm just... I feel so worried for him, for me, for my parent. We hardly get a break. He's not let us get him the help he needs. And we worry if he's comfortable or not, if he'll be okay, if we're doing everything right.

We will have hospice care whenever he comes home. They know what they are doing, and can help me and parent know what to do when they aren't here, and if something happens, to be able to handle it. We want to make him happy, to help him feel better than he has, but he keeps being stubborn. We will never, ever stop loving him, it's just hard to see him like this, to keep doing this. But we won't give up. We will have help, we will try to take breaks, and we will do our best to be patient and kind and understanding with whatever comes next. I feel... guilty, with all of this. I don't begrudge him anything. I'm not mad with him. I'm just so stressed, so sad, and I hate that I can't heal him, or make him better. We can only try to do our best, and accept the help he needs, and that we need.

Thank you all for your care and kind words and comfort. It has meant thr world to me to talk with y'all and do aus and plan stories, sometimes with y'all doing it with me. It has made a world of difference, and has made me feel less alone, less stressed, less scared. So thank you, so so much. Y'all are the best 💛🧡