#harmones clinic

[drhcmedical]

Dr. Salwa Azar is an Instructor and Specialist in Endocrinology, Diabetes, and Disorders of Metabolism. She is part of the Lebanese Society for Endocrinology, Diabetes, and Lipids and participated in numerous awareness campaigns organized by MOPH.

#endocrinology #endocrinology clinic #endocrinlogy specialist #diabetes doctor #endocrinology clinic in dubai #best hospital in dubai #endocrine specialist #harmones doctor #harmonal specialist #endocrine doctor in dubai #endocrinology doctor in dubai #best endocrinology clinic #best endocrine specialist #harmones clinic #metabolism clinic in dubai

[gothgril69]

MDNI

thinking about levi fucking you raw for the first time

you've always been so careful, so meticulous in the way you both make sure to use protection to prevent any std's or accidental pregnancies.

now you've begun taking birth control as your relationship develops further, and when levi comes to you one night with his test results from the clinic and it reveals he's clean, he's fucking insatiable. you had already known you were clean from getting tested right after your previous partner and you've been with no one except for him.

you're loyal to him, and he's loyal to you.

the way you gasp harmonizes perfectly with his deep groan as he slowly sinks into you, your pussy sucking him in as he thrusts into you without a condom on for the first time.

"fuck," he practically whimpers. "you're so wet– so warm."

you can feel all of him; feel every bump and ridge to his cock as he pulls back just to roll his hips back into you. your head ends up tossed back, jaw slack in pure pleasure as he fucks you deep and hard into the couch cushions – he just couldn't wait to have you.

"gonna cum in you, yeah?" levi grunts as he thrusts deep into you, balls pressing against your ass as he lifts your legs over his shoulders. "you like that? gonna fuck a baby deep into this pussy."

you mewl, head nodding dumbly in agreeance despite knowing he can't, but the thought of levi wanting to breed you has you close to seeing stars.

his hands grip your thighs hard, the soft fat giving way to his slender fingers as he keeps you right where he wants you. drool seeps out of the corner of your mouth, slowly trailing down your cheek and meeting the tears that have left your eyes as soon as levi started thrusting into you with no inhibitions. you're right there, and you know levi is too when his pace starts to falter ever so slightly.

"fuck, yes levi," you moan, voice sweetened like honey as your inevitable orgasm teeters on the edge. "cum inside me. fuck! please, please put a baby in me," you babble.

you grasp his shoulders and pull him towards you so his chest is flush with your own and bring him into a heated kiss. he moans against your lips, and then his hips are stuttering until he thrusts into you as deep as possible.

his cum coats your walls, warmth accompanied by the throbbing of his cock causing you to meet your own end as your pussy clenches down on him, muscles spasming. he sloppily kisses you through it, moans and whimpers escaping his lips in soft breaths against your own as you both relish in the feeling of being so close to one another.

he pushes his cock into you again, pressing his cum deeper into you with the movement and earning a muffled squelch from between your legs as you let out a soft moan. he let's his cock soften inside you, using it as a plug as he leans back just enough to look into your eyes.

"i'm never fucking you with a condom again," he breathlessly tells you.

you can't help but nod in agreement as you gently laugh.

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #aot levi #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman x female reader #levi x you #levi smut #levi drabbles #levi drabble #breeding k1nk

[t-lostinworlds]

Be(tter) In Reality With Me | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x pregnant!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship (marriage), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

》 SUMMARY: Bucky needed to remind you how he would never ever betray you, especially when the him in your dreams was showing you otherwise.

》 WARNINGS: bad dreams/nightmares, pregnancy & baby stuff, mentions of: infidelity, miscarriage, anxiety, toxic past relationships; implied smut at the start (nothing graphic), pet names (doll, my love, sweetheart), overprotective!husband!bucky (he’s a hoverer), some hurt, so much comfort, very fluffy moments a.k.a. happy ending obvs.

》 WORD COUNT: 6.5k+

A/N: this is another unplanned one, like i really just started writing this a few days ago. well, i’ve been toying with the idea for a while but i just never got around to writing/thinking of the perfect premise for it. i coud’ve gone the crack route but you get angst instead. but anyway, this is barely proofread, idk how this turned out. and i know ‘husband fever’ isn't a thing but i honestly got it while writing this soooo hope you enjoy it too!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

The disappointment was sharp in your chest as you trudged towards the front door of your home, fingers curled around an unopened envelope that felt heavier than any normal piece of paper should.

Your husband was supposed to be there with you.

Bucky was supposed to meet you at the clinic so you could find out your baby's gender together. But he hadn't been answering any of your messages or calls since this morning. Better yet, he'd been avoiding you all week. There had been more voicemails than there were replies. It was worrying because you two had been fine, things were normal the week before and now it felt as though he was avoiding you at all cost.

Yet the disappointment was quickly replaced by dread when you opened the front door.

The heels were what you saw first, a pair that you were sure wasn't yours. Even if there was a slightest chance that they were, they had no business being down here and not in your closet. Being pregnant, you hadn't worn heels in months.

Next were the scattered clothes, both familiar and not, a feminine scent lingering in the air that had your stomach turning in knots. They were the most horrid pieces of bread crumbs, one that you knew was leading you towards something vile and agonizing.

Your heartbeat was ringing in your ears as you ascended the stairs, each thump growing harsher to marry with your step. Your fingers trembled on your baby bump, the fluttering inside growing restless like a blaring alarm. When you reached the landing, that was when you heard it.

An enthusiastic creaking of the bed, salacious moans and grunts sinisterly harmonizing, unashamedly loud as if they weren't doing something so evil. It was deafening that you couldn't even hear your own heart shatter into pieces.

You wanted to turn around and leave, telling yourself that seeing the treacherous act would do more harm than good. But you didn't have control of your own body. You were pulling at your own hand, wanting to drag yourself away but to no avail as you kept walking.

The door was wide open when you reached it, shameless and uncaring of getting caught.

And you stood there, frozen, shattering into pieces as you watched your husband mold his naked body into another woman, his metal fingers tangled in her blonde hair, his hips driving back and forth recklessly, their faces contorted in pleasure while a picture of you and him on your wedding day stood on the nightstand.

It felt like a bullet to the heart when he lifted his head and met your eyes.

Gone were the soothing blues you'd called home, gone was the man you'd given your all, who you'd grown to love, to trust.

There were only dark gray hues laced with no guilt, no remorse, a face resembling the love of your life but was truly the Devil incarnate.

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks in quick succession, bile and air stuck in your throat, your heart stopping as something warmer, thicker with a metallic scent trickled down your leg.

He grinned.

You gasped.

•••

Bucky noticed how you'd been short with him lately.

Your kisses were less enthusiastic, his touches or any form of affection were being brushed off, your conversations turning brief, other times barely happening at all.

He tried to reason that you simply needed space, that maybe he was overbearing, overstimulating your senses by hovering around you too much. But, really, who could blame him for taking care of you and making sure his pregnant wife was healthy and safe?

But it was at night that his concern turned to suspicion, when you were facing away from him when you slept, muttering and mumbling, restless. It was when you'd flinch in surprise when he'd wake you up, eyes dazed with something else other than drowsiness. He'd ask you what was wrong, and each time you'd shake your head wordlessly and attempt to go back to sleep.

He remained patient though. It was the least he could do, especially in your state.

Still, that didn't mean he wasn't downright worried, especially when he found something uncanny about your behavior.

Bucky expected your irritability and annoyance. You snapping at him for something so mundane was a common thing he'd been facing lately and had certainly no qualms over. Your mind, emotions, and body were going through a lot and in waves, it was the bare minimum for him to understand. So he never took your harsh glares and clipped tones to heart.

But what was uncanny was the look of doubt, followed by a flicker of fear and then the heartbreak that would cross your face. It was in split seconds, when you see him on the phone, when he was out longer than he'd promised after getting you one of your weird cravings, when he came back late at night after a spontaneous outing with the guys when Wanda and Nat all but kicked him out since it was their turn to pamper you.

Bucky had a feeling that something was wrong. He simply couldn't put a finger as to what.

The nagging voice in the back of his head only grew when Sam and Sarah were in town. It was a surprise visit, so they didn't catch you in time.

You were already out with your mother, a rocky relationship that you hoped would start to mend over baby clothes and strollers.

"Bucky! Come on!" Sarah groaned playfully when he refused to tell them the gender of the baby.

He wanted you to disclose it, and he certainly wasn't going to do it without you by his side. You found out together, it was only fair you tell people the news together, too.

The harsh slam of the front door silenced everyone.

Bucky knew it was you right away, rushing to meet you in the hallway when he heard the intensity of your heartbeat and the sharpness of your breaths, footsteps hurried as if you'd been running.

"Hey," he said softly, cupping your face in his hands, his heart clenching at the sight of your stricken features. "What's wrong?"

It took you a minute to respond, eyes flickering between his face and over his shoulder, like you were looking for something. Bucky watched your body slowly relax when Sam and Sarah followed closely behind him.

It only confused him more.

"You feeling okay?" he asked, thumb stroking your warm cheek as he gently placed the other on your stomach.

"Y-Yeah, I thought—" You shook your head, finally meeting his eyes with a sad smile. "Mom canceled last minute."

"Oh I'm sorry, sweetheart," he sighed, pulling you into his arms, kissing the top of your head when you let out a shaky breath, cheek pressed on his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

Bucky knew how you were truly looking forward to this day. You'd been carefully dividing your lists into two so you could buy things with your mother and then with him, too.

"We'll just get those on our shopping trip, okay?" he murmured against your crown, hands rubbing soothing patterns on your back. Glancing behind him, he added with a lighter tone, "Or you can give Sam the list and he'll just gift us everything."

"Oh I would gladly do it," The self—not really—proclaimed uncle agreed. "If Buckaroo here will finally tell us whether we're having a niece or a nephew."

Bucky scoffed, "You know you can choose gender-neutral colors, right?"

"Oh no, I'm not talking about colors," Sam said, grinning. "I'm talking about quantity."

"Are you saying the niece gets more?" you asked with a soft laugh as you pulled away. The sound brushed away Bucky's worry, if only briefly, as he felt the tension leave your body. Still, his arm remained on your waist as you turned to your guests, his thumb rubbing soft circles as a means of comfort.

"Obviously," Sam confirmed, rolling his eyes playfully. "Gotta treat her like a princess."

"Can't argue with that." Bucky turned to you with an encouraging nod. "You want to put them out of their misery?"

"Well, you're having…" you trailed off, smile widening, eyes twinkling as a joyful glow kissed your face. The exact reason why Bucky loved letting you tell the news and being there when you did so. "A nephew."

The contrast between the siblings' reactions was amusing. Sarah erupted into a cheer resembling happiness and victory, while Sam all but threw his head back with a groan. Bucky still saw his friend try his best to hide a smile, though.

"I told you!" Sarah playfully smacked his brother on the arm. "A mother's intuition is never wrong."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam rolled his eyes, before turning to you with a proud grin, arms wide open. "Come here you."

You chuckled as you walked into his embrace, mumbling a soft "Thank you" at his congratulations. Sarah hugged you next, all teary yet happy smiles and sweet words as you both wandered to sit in the living room, the mother of two boys already gushing to you about endless advice.

"I'm happy for you man," Sam said as he pulled Bucky into a hug, patting his back before pulling away with narrowed eyes. "You better be taking care of her."

"Of course I am," Bucky scoffed, turning to watch you with a fond smile as you chatted animatedly, excitement evident in your well-being. "Hell, she might even be getting annoyed with my overbearing ass."

"Well, it's better to be overbearing than absent," Sam stated.

Bucky couldn't agree more.

Because fine, maybe he was being too much by always keeping an eye out for you even though you were safe and sound, lounging on the couch as Sam started pestering you about naming the baby after him. But if he wasn't, then he would've missed the way your smile slipped from time to time, shoulders slumping with exhaustion before you'd catch yourself and sit straight up and pretend your energy was still high.

He was thankful that Sam was perceptive enough to catch it too, along with the hints Bucky was throwing his way. So they cut their visit short, understanding that you needed to get some rest even if you hadn't explicitly said so.

Bucky was right on his call when the second the front door shut closed, your body visibility deflated, the day finally catching up with you.

He was probably hovering like a goddamn helicopter, trailing behind you when you did as much as walk from the living room to the bathroom, and then waiting for you outside the door. But if he hadn't, he would've missed your soft sniffles on the other side and the far-away look in your eyes once he'd checked on you twice after taking way too long inside than how you normally took.

If Bucky hadn't been overbearing, he would've missed the signs that something was bothering you, like something was eating away at your conscience.

"Hey, come here," he called for you later that night, sitting on the edge of the bed and beckoning you closer with his hands outstretched. Tangling your fingers together, he pulled you to stand in front of his opened legs, kissing your bump before resting his cheek on it, looking up at you with nothing but concern. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, attempting to smile but it didn't quite reach your eyes. "Just tired."

That only made his worry grow more.

It was something he'd noticed lately, too, how you'd been having trouble sleeping, much less, staying asleep. Most of the time, once you were comfortable in bed, it only took you a minute or two before you were out like a light.

At first, Bucky thought it was because you were nearing the end of your second trimester. It was to be expected, according to the countless pregnancy books he'd buried his face in and the weekly pregnancy calendar he found on the internet—which showed how big the baby was, what symptoms you were likely to feel and ways to aid you through it, how many weeks there were left, exercises to keep you comfortable and healthy and so on—he used as a guide.

But he didn't think nightmares were supposed to be part of it.

Bucky knew they weren't merely innocent dreams because you were always so shaken when he'd wake you up. There was always a sting settling in his chest when you'd pull away from his touch for a good few moments, eyes avoiding his as you tried to catch your breath. You'd only crawl back into his arms once your heart had settled into a calm rhythm, the haze in your irises never truly gone but faded.

You never told him what your dreams consisted of and Bucky never pushed.

He couldn't. Not with the risk of upsetting you even more. All he could do was remain patient. He knew you would tell him eventually. 

Bucky just wished it didn't have to take your breaking point for that to happen.

•••

The mumbling was what stirred him awake.

Bucky quickly sat up to check on you, his frown growing deeper once he saw your features littered with distress.

Yet before he had the chance to gently take you away from your troubled slumber, you suddenly shot up with a distressed shout,

"No!"

Your sobs immediately hit his ears, your frantic hands pulling the sheets away as if they were suffocating you. Your body trembled, chest heaving as you hastily checked your bump before you trailed your fingers down your inner thighs, bringing them up to your line of sight as if you were expecting to see something horrible coating your skin.

Dread clutched at Bucky's heart when the inkling as to what you expected to see evaded his mind.

"Hey, hey, hey," he rushed, kneeling in front of you and grabbing your face in his hands in an attempt to snap you out of your panic. Tear-filled eyes met his and his heart broke at the utter fear and agony that covered your face.

He pressed his forehead against yours, never looking away as he kept one cold hand on your burning and wet cheek and took yours with the other. He pressed your palm above his heart, hoping that it would help ground you.

"Breathe, sweetheart," he coaxed, inhaling deeply, encouraging you to follow, exhaling once you did. He took your other hand and pressed it against his jaw, letting his warm breath flow over your palm to help aid you in steadying your breathing. "That's it, my love, breathe with me."

Bucky repeated the action as many times he could, marrying it with encouraging words, only stopping when he could hear your heart slow to a steady beat.

"Y-You—" You choked back a whimper, burying your face into his neck as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, gripping him tightly. "I-I'm okay."

It sounded more like a question than it was a statement to Bucky.

"You're okay," he reassured firmly, kissing your forehead and steadying your shaking hands over your stomach. "You both are."

Silence covered the room aside from your deep breaths, the soft rustling of the sheets following suit as Bucky shifted to sit behind you, guiding you between his legs until your back was pressed against his chest. You rested all your weight on him, his hands covering your own as he coaxed them to move in slow circles over your stomach. He littered your shoulder with soft kisses, trailing up the side of your neck then your cheek, moving back down as he whispered sweet reassurances.

"You wouldn't do that to me, w-would you?" you asked after a moment.

"Do what, my love?"

Your voice came out as a broken whisper, as if you were scared to say it any louder, as if it would come true if you did.

"Cheat on me."

Bucky's answer was immediate.

"No." He gently turned you around in his arms, your legs thrown over his thigh as you sat sideways. Taking your face in his hand, he nudged the tip of your nose with his to get you to look at him, to let you see the truth in his eyes, emotions bared and unhidden. "I would never."

You nodded meekly before dropping your head, his lips touching your crown.

"Sweetheart, hey," he whispered, fingers finding your chin to prevent you from hiding again. His frown deepened when you met his gaze, the pain and conflict coating your dulled irises doing nothing to ease his worries. "Where is this coming from?"

But with one look at your trembling form and troubled eyes, Bucky's heart sank at the realization.

"Doll…" He took a deep breath, thumb stroking your cheek tenderly. "Is this what you've been dreaming of lately?"

Bucky never expected for such a small nod to break his heart so much.

"I-I watched you and—"

"No, no, no," he interrupted, shaking his head vehemently, kissing the tip of your nose, and then each of your eyelids. "You don't have to tell me right now. I don't want you to dwell on it for too long."

"I have to get out," you whispered yet your tone was adamant, fingers starting to nervously fiddle with his vibranium ones.

Bucky hesitated for a moment. He didn't want to stress you out more than you already were. But when you squeezed his hand reassuringly, he sighed, offering you a small yet supportive smile. "Okay. But don't force it, please, sweetheart. I don't want you getting upset even more."

You nodded.

Bucky listened.

He listened with bated breath as you recounted your dreams, his heart tearing itself apart, piece by piece with each gruesome detail you managed to stutter out. Heels. Clothes. Stairs. Sounds. Bedroom. Bodies. Picture Frame.

Bucky made sure to remind you to take your time and take deep breaths, it's just a bad dream, wiping away your tears as he held you close in his arms, you're my everything, littering whichever part of you he could reach with soft kisses to remind you were here, present in reality with him, and that you're okay.

Bucky never thought he'd feel inhumane anger over a version of himself that wasn't and would never be part of reality. He'd honestly die first. Yet, even then, he still couldn't picture subjecting you to such awful betrayal and hurt.

If he could jump into your dreams and excruciatingly make that asshole pay, no matter if it was some version of him, he would do it over and over and over again. No questions asked.

"And t-then there was b-blood," you took a sharp breath, a knife into Bucky's chest as fresh tears escaped your eyes, your grip around his hand tightening. "I-I lost our—"

"That's enough," Bucky interrupted, voice soft yet hoarse as a lump lodged itself in his throat, blinking away his unshed tears. With one hand on the back of your head, he pressed his lips against your brow. "It's just a nightmare, sweetheart."

"It f-felt so real," you choked back a sob, shaking your head as if you were hoping it would rid the images away. 

"This is real," Bucky said, placing your palm on his cheek, the other on your baby bump with his own hands covering yours. "You're okay. Our baby boy is okay. We are going to be okay."

You nodded, taking deep, shaky breaths as you brought his palm to your lips. You kissed it a few times, three more before you wrapped his arms around your form, leaning forward to bury your face into his neck.

"I would never do that to you," he murmured against the side of your head, rubbing gentle circles on your back. "You trust me, right?"

"I do!" you said, eyes frantically looking into his with all the reassurance you could muster despite your tiredness, lips trembling as you repeated, "I trust you with everything that I have. I trust you with my life, Buck—"

He nodded. He knew you did. He didn't feel any ounce of uncertainty in your voice, didn't see any assumption that he was capable of being unloyal in your eyes. Maybe that was where your conflict came from, your heart battling with the lies your subconscious was feeding you.

This wasn't about the strength of your trust in him. This was something else entirely.

"Who put this in your head, hmm?"

Bucky knew you well enough, how you sometimes got too into your overthinking mind. Your past relationships definitely contributed to that fact. Toxicity to downright emotional abuse and various infidelities from previous boyfriends, it was no surprise that you came out of those relationships scarred.

You went to therapy when you finally had the resources to, and Bucky was always there to support you, told you it was nothing to be ashamed of. Hell, he was going to individual sessions himself, much less frequently compared to his earlier years, but the path to healing was never linear. He even suggested couples counseling—once a month at best, twice on the bad ones. Not because something was broken with your relationship, but only as a tool to be able to understand each other more, to keep things healthy between you both.

It helped tremendously.

You'd grown to shine brighter each day, letting yourself be free of the doubtful voices and instead accept and own that you were deserving to be loved, strongly, loyally, and unconditionally.

Now, after being together for eight years—three in a relationship and five years of marriage—you and Bucky were stronger, healthier, happier. And with a baby boy on the way, he knew it would only strengthen your bond, adding more joy and love to your little family.

But recently, your pregnancy hadn't been easy on your mental state. With your body preparing itself to welcome new life into this world, to your hormones fluctuating, it only heightened your emotions, and that included the bad ones.

So it wasn't far-fetched for your anxious thoughts to grow like weeds in your head, unrelenting and parasitic with no means of stopping unless you pluck it out from the root. But for the first sprout to emerge, someone had to have planted that seed first.

"Remember when I went on that 'girl's night in' get-together?"

Bucky sighed. That was two weeks ago. He should've known that your quietness when you got home was something to be worried about. Even more when it was roughly the same time you started having trouble sleeping. To think that you had to deal with your dreams alone for that long—

He pulled you closer, rubbing your arms with a kiss on your forehead. "Yeah, I remember."

"Do you remember Karla?"

Bucky remembered her too. He only met her once when you brought him as your plus one to her engagement party. Now, he wasn't the type of person who was quick to pass judgment on people, especially at the first meeting. But first impressions? She hadn't exactly been the best, too forward and sometimes, rude for Bucky's liking. But she was your friend, so he let it slide.

"She arrived late. She was already very drunk and distraught," you continued once Bucky confirmed with a nod. "We immediately tried to console her, get her to calm down, but she just wouldn't let go of the bottle of whisky, started grabbing the wine the girls were having and chugging it down too. Turns out, she walked in on her fiancé with her best friend in their living room."

Bucky pressed his lips against your crown with a sigh, rubbing circles on your back as he let you pick at the metal plates of his arm. It was a nervous habit. Yet you also said it was comforting, grounding, getting to feel the coldness of the prosthetic.

"Then she looked at me and saw my bump—God that dress didn't really hide much, huh?" you chuckled, voice void of humor.

Bucky loved that dress on you, and he showed you just how much before driving you to that get-together. It was a shame that the memory was now tainted.

"B-But, I don't know, it was probably because I was the only married one in our group, o-or she was just that drunk but she started targeting me," you paused with a deep breath, eyes meeting his with a shake of your head as fresh tears gathered on your waterline.

"She started yelling at me and telling me that I was rubbing it in her face, what she could've had. And then she started screaming how you would do the same any day now, if you weren't already doing it because it was obvious you won't like it that my body is changing and getting bigger a-and that you'd find some slimmer model and she told me to leave you before it's too late and I just—"

Bucky felt hot white rage grip him.

He couldn’t care less what other people's opinions of him were. With what his past life was, he learned not to let it get to him. He should feel insulted, to hear the disrespect against his morals to downright questioning his loyalty to his wife, especially from someone he couldn't give a shit about.

But he wasn't mad about that. Oh no.

He was furious about what you had to endure.

The audacity of someone to make you upset and stressed, especially in your current condition, had him outraged. No one, absolutely no one had the right to raise their voice, much less, fucking yell at you. He didn't care if it was the president of some country, a powerful alien or a close family friend—

Nobody disrespects his wife.

"You know none of that is true," he said as calmly as he could despite wanting to give that 'friend' of yours a piece of his mind. Cupping your face with both hands, he brushed his thumbs against the corner of your lips. "Hell, I showed you how much I love your changing body earlier that day in the kitchen, didn't I?"

That managed to coax a giggle from you, faint and teary but he still took it as a win.

"Look, what happened to your friend was awful. I wouldn't ever wish that on anyone," he said, jaw clenching. "But for her to bring you down with her while you're pregnant? That's just cruel."

"I'm sorry," you whispered sadly, pressing his palm on your lips. "I shouldn’t have let her words get to me."

"Sweetheart, no, you did nothing wrong," Bucky insisted. "Your emotions are all over the place as is, your hormones even more. And I know how impressionable you get when your anxiety is high and, fuck, you must've been so stressed when she basically berated you in front of everyone I just—" He took a deep breath, pressing his forehead against yours. "I wish you could've told me sooner."

"I was worried you'd take it the wrong way," you admitted shakily. "Because I do trust you, but things got loud in my head and I just—"

"I know," he hummed, smiling reassuringly. "I know, doll. You don't have to explain it to me."

You sighed, nodding, your body slowly relaxing with a hint of a grateful smile touching your lips. And with the weight slowly falling off your shoulders, your drowsiness followed suit—the fluttering of your eyelids, the calmness of your breaths as you all but rested on him.

Bucky fluffed your pregnancy pillow before gently guiding you to a comfortable position, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose before pressing his lips gently onto yours. He hummed at your satisfied sigh, hands caressing your body, pouring as much of his love into every simple touch as he could muster.

"You're my whole world, my everything," he whispered to you and you only, the person who matters to him the most. "I would never put myself in a position where I'd even risk losing the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Bucky's brows furrowed when he felt a flutter against his palm where he'd rested it on your bump.

"I think someone's a little jealous," you teased softly, fingers pushing his hair away from his forehead.

"Now, we can't have that," he chuckled, shifting his body until he was face-to-face with your belly. He pulled at your shirt, revealing your skin before littering each part and stretch marks with loving kisses. Smiling, he corrected himself, "One of the best things that's ever happened to me."

His grin grew wider as you started carding your fingers through his hair. He could honestly fall asleep like this, resting on your bump with your loving touches.

"Say, you're going to kick my ass if I hurt Mama, wouldn't you, squirt?" he murmured against your tummy, his heart lurching when he felt a faint kick. Bucky gaped at you, chuckling at your giggles before pressing his lips back on your skin. "Gonna be a mama's boy I can already tell."

"I love you," you said, eyes glistening but with the smile that graced your face, Bucky knew they were happy tears this time.

"And I love you," he hummed, resting his cheek on your bump to meet your gaze, his fingers tracing hearts on your skin. "Both of you."

•••

"Doll, you don't have to do this."

"They're going to be here in an hour."

"I know but you shouldn't be on your feet too much."

"Exercise is good for pregnant women," you said, tilting your head at your husband with a knowing grin. "You told me that, according to the books you've read."

"I know what I said," Bucky groaned, hands finding your hips as he tried to gently steer you to sit on the chair, again. "But in moderation, you've been standing for—"

"Five minutes since you last made me sit down," you giggled, continuing to set up the dinner table with the snacks and appetizers you had set up. The main meal was kept warm in the oven.

It was your turn to host the get-together your friend group had once a month. And being in your third trimester, you were unable to stay up too late. So you opted on having a small brunch instead of the usual nightly gathering.

"Then, let me take care of the rest, please?" he begged, wrapping his arms around your form to stop your movements, lips pressed on the thin strap of your sundress. And if he wasn't overly cautious about your well-being, he probably would've already carried you to bed to let you rest. "Just sit and order me around."

Now, who could deny that offer?

Bucky was a great husband.

You knew this and he had done nothing but actively prove that to you time and time again.

You knew you shouldn't have let yourself get to a point of spiraling deep into your anxious thoughts that they started to affect your dreams somehow. But it honestly got overwhelming so quickly that you didn't get the chance to snap out of it. Worse yet, it made you dig the hole deeper and deeper by keeping it to yourself.

It was a lapse in judgment and, as Bucky had said, your emotions were all over the place. Not to mention, the situation wasn't at all pleasing, getting yelled at in front of an audience was awful already, a recipe for anxious disaster. What more if your hormones were making everything ten times worse?

Your friend simply caught you at the wrong moment.

The same friend that was going to be coming over in a few minutes.

You didn't tell Bucky yet because you knew he would never let her into the house. But you were willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. She was drunk and hurting that night, emotions probably driving her rash decisions. Granted you hadn't spoken to her since, but she probably didn't mean what she had said.

Or so you thought.

After shooting you an admonishing look when he recognized who walked into the door last, Bucky was back in Pilot Mode.

It's what you named his hovering because he did go into certain modes when taking care of you, even if he argued otherwise. And despite having agreed that he was going to give you and the girls space—and he had been sulking in his office as he watched whatever game there was on—it rapidly changed when the party moved to your backyard.

The sun was at its peak in the clear blue sky, warmth evident in the air despite sitting under the shade of the large patio umbrella Bucky installed himself.

First, it was pulling you aside for some sunscreen, lathering your skin up as he lectured you about taking sips of water every now and then to stay hydrated and to go back inside if it got too hot. Then, it was standing in the kitchen, right by the open window where he had a clear view of you, discreetly observing even though his large stature was making him so obvious. Your friends had giggled about it since most did find it endearing. That last one was him bursting out of the backdoor with a cold glass of water and a clean towel in hand, wiping away any sweat that littered your skin and urging you to drink, parting away with a chaste yet loving kiss.

It was what made Karla snap.

"God, I can't believe you still fall for that shit," she scoffed once your husband had gone back inside. "Like, seriously, have you ever heard of love bombing?"

Everyone went silent at that.

"He's overprotective," you countered, though you could already start to feel your heart rate start to increase.

"More like he's overcompensating for something," she grumbled, rolling her eyes. "He was a trained assassin back in the day, wasn't he? Surely he'd learned a thing or two about hiding secrets."

"Karla, drop it," Grace, a friend truly close to you, hissed with a sharp glare.

"I'm trying to save her from yet another heartbreak," she argued, before turning to you. "Like we all know how gullible and naïve you can get, a few romantic gestures and you're already blinded. I mean, considering your track record of cheaters, you should already know the signs. I know I see them with how your husband's been doting on you. It's the same thing the asshole did to me."

Your hands shook as you held the glass of water tighter, tears threatening to spill as you gritted, "Bucky is not the same—"

"Jesus, you need to open your eyes!" Karla interrupted. "I never expected you to still be this stupid—"

"That's enough."

Bucky's voice boomed through the air, his looming presence immediately behind you with a protective arm around your waist. Emotions at a high, you didn't even realize you stood up from your seat. You tried catching his gaze, but he was glaring at Karla who had now quieted down, shrinking in her place.

"I don't care about your assumptions about my morals and character because your opinion doesn't matter to me. So say whatever you want to say about me. But the second you disrespect my wife—" Bucky screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, reeling back his anger when he felt your hand on his arm.

Opening his eyes, he turned to look at you. You shook your head, not wanting to make this any bigger. He sighed, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles and then your ring before turning to Karla.

"I love making my wife happy, and she'd been looking forward to this get-together to catch up with friends. But she isn't supposed to be around any kind of stressors during her pregnancy," he said, glare dead set on your so-called friend, voice dropping as he gritted, "So get out of my fucking house."

"Buck—"

"Doctor's orders, my love. I can call her right now if you want." He gave you a sweet, knowing smile. You nodded because you knew there was no point arguing with him. Bucky turned to your friend when she refused to move. "Well? Do you want me to drag you out?"

Karla gaped at everyone, waiting for someone to protest, huffing and puffing when she found no support. It didn't take long for her to gather her things and for the front door to slam shut.

The silence hung in the air for a good minute.

"Good fucking riddance," Grace scoffed, the tension breaking as a chorus of agreement came out from everyone. "I honestly don't get why you still invited her."

"Too kind for her own good," Bucky said, raising his brow at you. You shook your head at him with a soft laugh, squeezing his hand gratefully.

"You're in your guard dog mode again," you teased.

Bucky rolled his eyes, but didn't bother denying it. That only made you grin wider.

"Well, this is supposed to be a girls' thing so I'll leave you ladies to your own devices." He nodded at everyone, giving you a sweet peck on the lips before making his way back into the house, even though you knew he was only going back to his station in the kitchen.

As soon as he was gone, everyone started gushing at you.

"You're so lucky but God you deserve it!"

"Girl, you need to set me up with a friend of his, like surely they're going to be roughly the same, right?"

"Honestly, I'm glad you're getting your happy ever after."

"Does he use that deep voice on you in bed?"

"Oh my god!" you squeaked at the last one, covering your warm face with your palms. When you peeked between your fingers, the girls were all looking at you with expectant grins, brows wriggling. You sighed, "Maybe."

They all erupted into delighted laughs at that, the conversation turning into a slightly salacious turn as they started trading in stories—both good and horrendous—and asking you for some advice on how to keep a guy satisfied or even just to spill the beans on what you and your husband get up to in bed.

Obviously, you didn't kiss and tell—well, not in too much detail. You still couldn't help but sing Bucky's praises. Of course you had to give credit where credit is due.

It was a few moments in when you caught Bucky's gaze in the open window. His wink and that handsome yet smug—his ego inflated that's for sure—smile was enough to tell you that he was listening in like the goddamn nosy super soldier that he was.

You rolled your eyes, yet your joyous smile wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Because to be in reality with James Buchanan Barnes, your husband, the love of your life, was way better than any dream you could ever have.

✫*｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ♛ *.

↬ thank you for reading lovely! reblog & leave a comment if you enjoyed! feedback is always appreciated!

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#birwm #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes reader insert #sebastian stan #my writing

[thesoftboiledegg]

Rick and Morty if Autism Speaks and Autism Moms focus-grouped it to death:

Rick: Everyone, I have a terrible confession to make. Summer [scrolling through her phone]: Sure, Grandpa Rick. How many planets did you blow up today? Rick: No, Summer, it's much worse than that. I... [sighs and sticks his hands in his pockets] I just got back from the doctor's office. I...I have autism. [The entire family gasps in shock. Summer drops her phone. Morty's hands fly to his mouth.] Beth: No! Rick! Why didn't you ever tell us? Rick: I didn't know, sweetie. Bird Person noticed that I'd been flapping my hands a lot and said, "Mubba rubba nub nub," which means, "I'm going to give you a referral for an autism diagnosis." I just got back from the clinic. I'll be honest with you--when the word "autism" came out of the doctor's mouth, I couldn't decide if I wanted to hide the truth from you or crash my ship directly into the building, killing me instantly. [Jerry stares at him. Summer starts sobbing. Beth glances at Morty with horror and disbelief.] Beth: But--what about Morty? He flaps his hands sometimes, too. Do you think that--maybe--oh God, I don't even want to say it-- Rick [looking at her sadly]: I don't know, sweetie. Autism is a genetic disease, and it's not looking good. Morty: No! NO! Why, Rick? This is the worst thing you've ever done! Rick: I'm sorry, buddy. I wish I could go back in time and delete the autism from my genes. Summer [sobbing]: You've ruined our family! I always knew I was the one normal child, and now you've just confirmed it! Beth: I'm sorry, Morty, but I won't be able to look at you the same way again. I knew there was a reason I favored Summer all these years. And Rick, well--I don't know if you can keep living here. Our budget is already tight without you spending $500 a month on math textbooks and model train sets. Jerry: Wait, hang on. If I can get meta here for a second--doesn't Dan Harmon play Bird Person? And isn't he, you know...in that way? Rick: Autistic? [Beth and Summer gasp at the sound of the word.] I don't know, let me check. [He opens a portal and disappears, then returns a few seconds later, his eyes heavy with sadness.] Yes. Dan Harmon is autistic, which means...Bird Person is autistic, too. I'm sorry. [The entire room is silent.] Beth: Well...at least you'll be able to get together now. I know you autistics can't date normal people. Summer: Autistics can't date anyone, period. Sorry, Morty, but I guess Jessica and Bruce Chutback both dodged a bullet. [Morty bursts into tears. Beth rubs his shoulder.] Beth: It's okay, honey. Look at it this way--you'll be able to go on lots of adventures with Grandpa since we have to separate both of you from the general population. Jerry: And "different" doesn't mean "worse." I mean, in this case, it absolutely does, but it doesn't mean that in other contexts. Morty: I'm sorry that I'm burdening everyone. [glances up] Hey, um, Rick--maybe you can find a cure, right? [smiles weakly] Some planet out there must've found a cure for autism by now, right? Rick [forces a smile]: You've got it, buddy. I'm sure there's a universe out there that's...found a cure for this tragic disease. [Everyone looks silently down at the table. Morty stands up.] Morty: I'm going to sit in my room for a while. Let me know when you've decided if you're going to keep me or put me up for adoption. Beth: We'll let you know, honey. [Morty walks upstairs. The rest of the family turns to Rick, who sighs.] Rick: Well...I guess I'll go to the garage. The noise-cancelling walls will protect you from the sounds of my incessant stimming and hand-flapping. I know you don't want me back in the house, so you can turn my room into extra storage space. Jerry can even turn it into a man cave if he wants. I don't care if he does. I don't care about anything anymore. Summer: Neither do we, Rick. Neither do we... [Rick walks into the garage and sits quietly on the stool. After a few minutes of silence, he hesitates, then reaches inside his coat and applies a sticker to his ship. The camera zooms in to reveal a puzzle piece that reads Autistics On Board.]

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #jerry smith #summer smith #beth smith #autism #dan harmon #bird person #meme

[whitecreekvalley-if]

Minor NPCs

Adriana Gannon, dearly beloved mother, wife, and sister who was taken too early. Her absence is still felt heavily, especially by her family.

Mark Benton, Sadies no-good, awful, terrible, restraining ordered ex. Also very much in jail for the foreseeable future.

Lionel Burnett , the kindly former ranch hand that runs the motel a ways up the road, family friend of the Gannon's.

Delilah Ross, the whirlwind of a nurse that works as one of three to keep the local clinic up and running as best she can.

Walt Jefferson, the obviously out of touch mayor who would rather spend his time lounging by the pool in his yard.

Aidan & Nadia Jefferson, the mayor's douchebag twins who think they're owed everything for just existing.

Clementine Harmon, the kid who herds people in town with a sharp stick and fears absolutely nothing and no one. Beyond curious.

Sbeve, not a typo, the town's stray tomcat who spends time lounging on the terrace of the town café. Judges you incessantly.

Alejandra "Alej" Núñez, freelance mechanic and Alice's best friend, not to mention favorite cousin. Zero filter and as blunt as her wrenches.

Cheesecake, the heifer you (possibly) have the pleasure of almost getting trampled by on your first day at the ranch. Hates thunder and loves snuggles.

#WCV: minor NPCs #there's more but this is a living list 😌 #subject to additions and redo's #edit: CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT THE MOM LMAO

[copiasghoulfriend]

Sinfully Yours,

Summary: In this enigmatic tale, Nurse Penelope (Penny) awakens next to the alluring Terzo in an unfamiliar room, leading to confusion and intrigue. Amidst her nursing duties, Penny grapples with her attraction to Terzo and her commitment to her distant boyfriend, Mary. Mysterious gestures from an anonymous admirer and Terzo himself further complicate her emotions. While Penny navigates the complexities of her feelings and her role in the intriguing Emeritus family, she remains torn between the allure of the unknown and her unwavering connection with Mary, resulting in a captivating blend of romance, mystery, and personal growth.

Rating: Mature, Explicit, Eventually 18+ MDNI

Mary Goore / Emeritus Family / Copia

Warnings: Sexual Themes, Infidelity, Emotional Turmoil, Mature Language, Suggestive Imagery, Alcohol Use, Romantic Tension, Implied Nudity, Intrigue and Mystery, Personal Struggles

Word Count: 3.1K

AO3

Chapter One: Awakening in Enigma

The sun's rays streamed forcefully through the window, casting a nauseating glare that seeped into my consciousness. With a faint groan, I wriggled beneath the warm covers, gradually allowing my eyes to open. My vision adjusted as I squinted against the brightness. It became evident that I was not in my familiar bedroom. Lavish purple velvet curtains adorned the windows, and the bed I lay in was conspicuously grander. A distant snore emanated from beside me, prompting me to cautiously sit up and inspect the source. There, a man with impeccably dark hair and chiseled features slumbered serenely. My realization deepened as I discovered my own nakedness, with my clothes mysteriously absent. Not far away, the man's shirt lay discarded on the floor, near the window. Carefully, I retrieved and donned it, the fabric carrying a scent that intertwined vanilla and musk. The lush carpet cushioned my steps as I approached the bedroom door, but not without a final contemplative glance at the sleeping stranger. Struggling with an enigmatic lapse in memory, I quietly slipped into the dimly lit living room and retrieved my attire. Swiftly redressing, I made my escape from his dwelling, acutely aware that Sister Imperator, the headmistress, would not take kindly to discovering my indiscretion on my very first day of work.

Safely ensconced in my quarters once more, I breathed a sigh of relief at avoiding detection. Hastily, I entered my bathroom and disrobed, my gaze meeting an array of unexplained bruises on my inner thighs and breasts. A small, tender bite mark on my side heightened my confusion. The scalding water of the shower did wonders to wash away both the physical discomfort and the emotional turmoil. With a few tears mingling with the water, I let my blonde hair cascade down my wet cheeks. As I lathered my hair with shampoo and conditioner, the mingling fragrances merged with my thoughts. Wrapped in towels, I stood before the fogged mirror, its surface cleared by my hand. Drying off, I donned fresh undergarments and slid into nursing jogger scrubs, noting their snug fit. The mauve joggers harmonized with a crisp white long-sleeved shirt, accentuating my figure more than I'd prefer. A hasty bun confined my hair, and a light touch of makeup completed my preparation. Gathering my belongings, I dashed out of my room.

Navigating the bustling hallway, I exchanged nods with various fellow residents. Unexpectedly, Cardinal Copia stood near the clinic doors, an incongruous sight that intrigued me. I cleared my throat as I approached him, my voice breaking the silence. "Good morning, Cardinal," I offered, momentarily startling him.

He smoothed his cassock and composed himself. "Good morning, Nurse Penelope. I hope not to intrude. Just here for some paperwork, and I'll be out of your way," he replied, glancing downward.

"Cardinal, please, call me Penny. I'm uncertain about the paperwork you need, so please feel free to follow me," I suggested, unlocking the door and ushering him in.

I illuminated the room, my attention instinctively drawn to a corner where red lace underwear lay discarded. A blush suffused my cheeks as I shifted my focus, aware of Cardinal's observing gaze.

He observed the scene before him, his lips parting to speak. "Oh, memories. This room… Penny, it's indeed lovely, but it once hosted my Italian lessons with Secondo. Now, transformed into a clinic for our brothers and sisters, it's enchanting. Ah, the paperwork should be on the desk."

I watched as he attended to the documents, but my thoughts continued to drift toward the intimacies left behind. It wasn't long before I realized he was waving a hand before my face. "Penny, are you all right?" His eyes met mine, concern etched into his features.

Nervous laughter escaped me as I scratched my neck. "Apologies, Cardinal. My mind wandered. It was a long night." He chuckled softly and averted his gaze. "Did the Emeritus brothers keep you occupied? I saw you at the dance; you looked stunning. A marvelous welcome indeed. I hope you continue to enjoy your time here with us."

We locked gazes, the weight of our connection lingering until he broke away, retreating hurriedly. Throughout the day, as various sisters sought assistance with contraception, headaches, and feminine hygiene, I couldn't shake the impact of the morning's events. At lunchtime, as I finished up with a well-known sister, her venomous words pierced through.

"Nurse Penelope, not to intrude, but returning to Terzo's quarters was a misstep. It'd be unfortunate if Sister Imperator found out. Frankly, I'm surprised he chose you in the first place. You're pretty, but let's be honest – you're not his type. Step aside, let a sister be his 'prime mover.' Thanks for the help with my birth control. Time to flaunt myself. Goodbye!" Her words stung, unearthing old wounds of betrayal.

I retreated into my room, collapsing against the door, overcome by tears. Memories of my past's heartbreak resurfaced, the pain mirroring that of being cheated on by the love of my life. His mistress had spoken those same hurtful words. A knock broke through my reverie, prompting me to hastily wipe my tears before opening the door.

And there he stood—the man from the morning's bed. His onyx hair was meticulously styled, and his skull paint vivid. Clad in a resplendent purple velvet suit and glossy black shoes, he reached for my face and stepped into the clinic. The door closed behind him with a gentle thud, sealing us in a cocoon of intrigue.

The man's lips met mine with a mixture of gentleness and passion. His breath carried a faint hint of alcohol, prompting me to delicately push him away, my fingers lingering on the taste of his paint. "We can't continue like this, Terzo," I voiced, my eyes locked with his, searching for a flicker of understanding. His gaze, however, bore an intense hunger that both attracted and unnerved me.

"Mia Cara, Per Favore," he implored, his voice a seductive murmur as his fingers traced patterns on my sides. "Last night was an enchanting encounter."

Swallowing hard, I tore my gaze away, fixating on the photograph of my boyfriend, Mary Goore. My love for him ran deep, and the thought of him discovering what had transpired sent a pang of guilt through me. He would undoubtedly demand retribution from Terzo. My eyes remained fixed on Mary's image, a silent plea for guidance and strength.

Terzo's curiosity compelled him to lift the photograph, his eyes fixated on Mary's face. "He's quite... opposite from your usual taste, cara. You deserve far better. Someone like me," he murmured, his gaze penetrating mine as though trying to read the secrets hidden within.

My resolve strengthened, and I met his intense gaze with unwavering determination. "Terzo, our paths are divergent. You hold a position of authority over me. Mary, on the other hand, is the rock of my life. He supports me unconditionally and doesn't tolerate any nonsense," I declared, drawing a clear boundary between the worlds of allure and devotion.

Terzo's lips curled into a sardonic smile, a mixture of resignation and intrigue. "You are a captivating contradiction, Penny. But if you ever change your mind, don't hesitate to find me."

I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, my heart steadying in the wake of our conversation. "I appreciate your honesty, Terzo. But my heart belongs to Mary."

As he left, the air in the room seemed to regain its equilibrium. I stared at the photograph of Mary once more, reminded of the unwavering love I had waiting for me beyond the enigmatic allure of Terzo's world.

As I locked up the clinic, a wave of relief washed over me. The experience hadn't been as daunting as I'd initially feared. Dinner hour arrived, ushering me to join the congregation of Brothers and Sisters in the dining hall. I selected a plate adorned with a sumptuous roasted dinner, my gaze scanning for an unoccupied table. At the forefront of the room, the commanding presence of the Emeritus Family caught my attention. Primo, Secondo, Terzo, and Copia were seated, accompanied by Nihil and Sister Imperator. Among them, Terzo's hungry gaze locked onto me, an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. Swiftly, I averted my eyes, determined to find a less conspicuous spot.

With my plate in hand, I located a vacant table, my thoughts inevitably drifting back to Mary. The longing for him surged anew, his encouragement being the driving force behind my decision to take on this role. He saw in me the potential to excel as a nurse, and his unwavering support propelled me forward. I silently yearned to hear his voice, to share the details of my day and seek solace in his presence.

As I settled into my meal, my thoughts vacillated between the alluring enigma of the Emeritus Family and the steadfast love I held for Mary. The desire to reach out to him grew with each passing moment. Tonight, after the day's flurry had subsided, I planned to dial his number and catch up, perhaps even extending an invitation for him to join me. The notion of reconnecting with him brought a soft smile to my lips, a glimmer of warmth in the midst of the intriguing mystique that surrounded me in this new chapter of my life.

With the last delectable bite of my dinner savored, I leaned back in my seat and observed the unfolding scenes around me. This was an environment vastly distinct from what I was accustomed to. Sisters greeted me with friendly waves, a gesture that began to make this unfamiliar territory feel a touch more welcoming.

As my gaze roamed, my attention was captured by a hushed conversation between Terzo and Secondo. An involuntary sigh escaped me, and I collected my tray, disposing of the remnants of my meal. Exiting the bustling dining hall, I retreated to my new room. Locking the door behind me and drawing the curtains shut, I felt a cocoon of privacy enveloping me.

My clothes found their way into the laundry bin, replaced by a set of comfortable silk pajamas that evoked a sense of coziness. Slipping into my favorite slippers, I noticed my book resting on the end table in the living room area. The soft glow of lights illuminated the space as I poured a glass of wine, settling onto the plush leather sofa. A backdrop of classical music played in the background, creating a soothing ambiance.

With my book in hand, I embarked on a journey of words, the narrative carrying me away to a world far removed from the enigmatic atmosphere of the Emeritus family and the intricate dynamics of the church. The warmth of the wine and the mellifluous strains of music intertwined seamlessly with the story's tapestry, enveloping me in a sense of tranquility.

Hours passed in this serene haven as I lost myself in literature, the characters and their tales providing a welcome escape from the complexities of my new surroundings. In the midst of the silence and the soft symphony, I found a moment of respite, a personal sanctuary amidst the intriguing yet tumultuous realm that had now become a part of my life.

As the realization of the advancing hour settled in, I reluctantly closed the book, bookmarking my place for another time. My steps led me to the phone stationed in the compact kitchenette. With a mixture of anticipation and a twinge of longing, I dialed Mary's number and held the receiver to my ear, my heart skipping a beat as the ringing echoed on the other end.

"Hey, Sweet cheeks," his voice flowed through the line, a comforting melody that immediately eased my soul. A week apart had felt like an eternity, and hearing him again brought a rush of warmth that wrapped around me.

We delved into a heartfelt conversation, exchanging stories of the past week's events and our separate experiences. Amidst the laughter and familiar banter, I found myself sharing the unexpected encounter with Terzo, sensing the undercurrent of controlled anger beneath Mary's calm response. His ability to maintain composure only deepened my appreciation for his character.

As the night wore on, fatigue gradually crept in, nudging me to bring our conversation to a close. With a sigh, I broached the topic of goodbyes, a bittersweet note underscoring our interactions. We lingered in the moment, a comfortable silence reigning before I finally gathered the courage to speak.

"Mary, I miss you so much," I admitted softly. "Could you visit me soon?"

His response was swift, laden with reassurance and longing. "Of course, Penny. I'll come see you as soon as I can. Just hold on a little longer."

As we bid our goodnights and the line disconnected, a sense of anticipation filled the air. Though the distance still separated us, the promise of his presence offered solace, a beacon of familiarity in the midst of my new and enigmatic surroundings.

Standing in the coziness of my kitchenette, my yearning for Mary's voice echoed through the quiet space. Abruptly, a peculiar knock shattered the stillness, drawing my attention. Cautiously, I approached the door, my curiosity piqued. Peering through the peephole, I encountered an empty corridor. Puzzled, I unlocked the door and stepped out, surveying the surroundings. The hallways stretched devoid of life, an eerie contrast to the mysterious knock.

Then, my gaze descended to a sight that both intrigued and unsettled me—an elegant vase holding a solitary black rose. I reached for it, the coolness of the vase against my fingertips, and my eyes were drawn to a note attached. "Welcome Penny. We are so lucky to have you here with us," the message read, signed with the enigmatic label "Secret Admirer." My thoughts immediately leaped to Terzo, his allure and charm a potent mix. The notion that he might be behind this tugged at my mind.

Staring at the black rose, my emotions swirled in a maelstrom of conflicting feelings. Terzo's actions, though sweet, hinted at a depth that both enticed and concerned me. Flowers had always been a soft spot for me, a gesture I secretly yearned for but had never received from Mary. As I contemplated the enigma of this gift, my heart wrestled with mixed emotions, each petal representing a fragment of a puzzle I was only beginning to piece together.

Intrigued and somewhat perplexed, my initial impulse was to reach out to Cardinal Copia for insight. Was Terzo the kind of person who would orchestrate such a gesture? I dialed the number, anticipation building with each ring. Unfortunately, my call went unanswered, deepening the mystery. A sense of puzzlement settled within me, lingering even as I prepared for bed that night.

Lying in the stillness of my room, I found myself lost in thought. Loneliness crept in, heightening my longing for Mary's comforting presence. The void was palpable, and the allure of his embrace felt particularly enticing amidst the enigmatic backdrop of my new life.

As I lay in bed, the conundrum of the black rose gnawed at my mind. Traits that diverged from Mary's nature danced before me, casting a shadow of doubt over the origin of the gesture. The shifting lights from the courtyard cast intricate patterns on the ceiling, a dance that mirrored the complexities of my thoughts. The wind outside grew in intensity, its mournful whispers echoing a sense of uncertainty that resonated within me.

With the clock ticking towards midnight, I remained immersed in contemplation, grappling with questions that had no immediate answers. Each passing moment marked by the shifting lights and the growing wind only served to deepen my sense of bewilderment.

The night offered me only a few hours of rest, a situation I knew would likely take its toll later in the day. As my alarm beckoned, I reluctantly rose, my gaze tracing patterns on the ceiling as I struggled to shake off the lingering fatigue. Eventually, my body roused itself, and I made my way to the shower, choosing cold water to jolt my senses awake. The wetness of my hair irked me, a minor annoyance I set aside as I focused on the day ahead.

Drying off, I began the routine of taming my damp hair, a task that had become a familiar part of my mornings. Opting for simple makeup, I aimed to present a semblance of alertness, determined not to resemble the sleep-deprived state I was truly in.

Breakfast was served in the dining hall, and while I didn't have much of an appetite, I made my way there, intent on grabbing a muffin and a cup of coffee. My day's workload seemed manageable, though a scheduled meeting with fellow nurses from local ministries awaited me. As I entered the dining hall, the atmosphere felt unusually subdued. Among the sparsely occupied tables, only a handful of the Emeritus family members were present, and I couldn't help but notice Terzo's conspicuous absence.

Despite the quietness, a sense of anticipation stirred within me, a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty about what the day held in store. As I settled down with my modest breakfast, the distinct aura of the Emeritus family lingered, casting a subtle intrigue over the morning's tranquility.

Secondo's eyes, an unknown entity until now, met mine with a similar hunger to that of Terzo's the day prior. The gaze lingered, a mystique shrouding their intentions. I noted the snug yet flattering scrub set I'd chosen for the day, a color that accentuated my eyes. My breakfast was consumed with a quiet contemplation, thoughts centered on the impending meeting that awaited me.

With my coffee in hand, I departed the dining hall, a mix of emotions accompanying me on my way to the clinic. An unexpected sight awaited me—a red rose placed just outside the clinic door. The surroundings were devoid of life, leaving a sense of intrigue in its wake. The note attached contained words that stirred a strange blend of flattery and unease. "You are quite beautiful, I can get used to seeing you every day. Hopefully we can spend more time together."

My heart raced slightly as I absorbed the message, my mind reeling with questions. The shadow of a presence loomed over me, yet the solitude of the hallway offered no answers. Unlocking the office door, I entered the clinic, detecting an unfamiliar yet tantalizing scent in the air. The atmosphere held an almost nostalgic quality, a sensation that teased at the edges of my consciousness but remained just out of reach.

As I prepared for the day's responsibilities, a sense of anticipation intertwined with an underlying sense of caution. The enigmatic gestures continued to weave their thread through my days, each new development raising more questions than answers. Amidst the intrigue, I found myself navigating a delicate dance between the allure of the unknown and the reassurance of familiarity.

#mary goore x reader #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #papa emeritus iii #popia #cardinal copia x female reader #cardinal copia #tobias forge #papa emertius #papa emeritus ii x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost fic #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost fic #ghost copia #ghost cardinal copia #copia x reader #terzo x reader #secondo x reader #sister of sin #ghost band fluff #ghost band angst #ghost band smut

[lvoryingrid]

Healing Flames Chapter 11

Dabi x fem!Reader

Synopsis: Morning brings tears, the residue of haunting nightmares. Despite the warm sun, an indistinct fear lingers. As (Y/n) walks to the clinic, police sirens disrupt the tranquility. On the highway, Dabi's fiery spectacle clashes with heroes. The chaos unfolds, revealing the complexities of quirks and motives.

As (Y/n) stood alone atop Sekoto Peak, a symphony of city lights shimmered below, casting a kaleidoscope of colors. The nocturnal breeze carried whispers of pine, a bittersweet reminder of the encounter that unfolded in the forest's embrace.

A hesitant step marked her departure, and she couldn't help but look back, her gaze lingering on the silhouette of the hilltop against the city skyline. Conflicting emotions churned within, a tempest of uncertainty.

Descending the trail, each step was a descent into the city's embrace, away from the isolated serenity of Sekoto Peak. The moon cast long shadows, painting the path with an ethereal glow, a silent witness to the internal conflict plaguing (Y/n).

As she reached the base, a final glance back encapsulated the silent exchange with the forest-clad summit. The city lights sparkled like diamonds, each one a reflection of a life continuing its journey.

The wind whispered its goodbyes, carrying with it the untold stories of the forest and the enigmatic figure who had crossed paths with (Y/n). Perhaps, in Dabi's stoic departure, there lay a silent expression of gratitude, an unconventional way of saying thanks.

The sun painted the blue sky once more, with his golden warmth, (Y/n) stirred from the depths of sleep. Yet, her awakening was accompanied by the haunting echoes of nightmares that clung to the recesses of her mind like shadows refusing to dissipate.

Tears welled in her eyes as she sat up, the residue of the dream still lingering in the corners of her consciousness. The details remained elusive, slipping away like sand through her fingers, leaving only the visceral emotions that gripped her heart with an unrelenting force.

With a heavy sigh, she rubbed her temples as if trying to erase the remnants of the night's torment. The room, bathed in the gentle glow of the morning sun, offered little solace to the lingering unease that accompanied her awakening.

Despite the warmth of the sun's embrace, a shiver ran down her spine, a response to the indistinct fear that the nightmares had left behind. As she rose from her bed, the weight of the unknown pressed upon her, a silent reminder that some dreams, even when forgotten, could cast a long, unsettling shadow on the waking world.

As (Y/n) strolled along the sunlit path toward the clinic, the golden rays danced playfully on her (h/c) hair, creating a radiant halo around her. The tranquility of the morning enveloped her, and the gentle hum of the city seemed to harmonize with the rhythm of her footsteps.

However, the serenity shattered abruptly as the wailing cries of police sirens pierced the air. A discordant symphony of urgency echoed through the streets, prompting some people to scatter in a frenzy and others to follow and see what happened. Confusion etched itself across (Y/n)'s face as she turned, her eyes widening in apprehension.

As (Y/n)'s gaze drifted toward the nearby highway, her eyes widened with terror at the unfolding spectacle. A police car, engulfed in vibrant blue flames, careened dangerously, and amidst the chaos, the unmistakable silhouette of Dabi emerged from the van in front of it. His posture exuded a sinister confidence, the flames dancing obediently to his command.

Just as panic threatened to take hold, the sand hero, Snatch, leaped into action. Streams of golden sand shot forth from his hands, intercepting the fiery onslaught with a skillful grace. The clash of blue flames against the resolute sands created a mesmerizing yet ominous display.

As the van slowed, a figure perched atop it leaped with malevolent intent. A confrontation unfolded in the midst of the chaotic highway. Snatch, his sand still swirling in defense, faced off against the assailant, a man with a menacing demeanor. The air crackled with tension as their powers clashed—a dance of sand and aggression.

Unexpectedly, a massive boulder materialized from beneath a police car, launching it into a wild flip. The sudden emergence of this earth-shaping force added a layer of unpredictability to the skirmish. The highway became a battleground, with elements of fire and sand converging in a tumultuous clash of quirks and wills.

As the police car somersaulted through the air, Dabi approached the sand hero with a dangerous swagger. The hero, urgency etched across his face, hastened to rescue the trapped officer. In the midst of this, Dabi's menacing voice cut through the chaos, tauntingly proclaiming, "That's right. Heroes always prioritize lives." The eerie glow of wild blue flames flickered ominously in his hands.

Undeterred, the hero gently placed the officer on the pavement, his response carrying a resolute conviction. "Recently, burnt corpses have been turning up in various places." Dabi, with a sardonic smile, retorted, "Oh, are people talking about me? That makes me happy."

Fueling the growing tension, Snatch, visibly angered by the villain's callous words, pivoted to face Dabi. "Have you ever thought about the feelings of those left behind?!" he demanded, launching a fierce sand attack. The grains danced in the air, a testament to the hero's determination.

In response, Dabi unleashed his own formidable power. The air crackled with intensity as blue flames enveloped his attack, meeting the oncoming sand in a clash of elemental forces. Amidst the fiery spectacle, the hero vanished, leaving a trail of displaced sand.

As chaos unfolded on the highway, (Y/n) found herself drawn to another mysterious figure in the midst of the turmoil. A man, masked and hat-clad, observed the spectacle with an odd fascination. His words, laden with a peculiar interest, cut through the tension. "That's hot... Sand doesn't burn, does it?"

Meanwhile, Dabi, seemingly nonchalant, dusted sand off his clothes as he analyzed the situation. "From what it looked like, he could only make the top half of his body sand, so he'll probably die."

Frozen by the unfolding events, (Y/n) stood rooted to the spot, her gaze fixated on the enigmatic duo. As the two men approached a police van, retrieving a captive, she felt the weight of Dabi's turquoise gaze on her. Panic seized her thoughts, 'He saw me!' reverberating in her mind as their eyes locked in a tense moment.

Abruptly, the sound of a horn pierced the air, and a distant voice yelled, "Pursuers are coming! Hurry up and get in!" With an unhurried demeanor, Dabi stretched his limbs, strolling towards the van. In the fleeting seconds before he vanished from her sight, he stole one last glance at her, leaving (Y/n) with a lingering sense of both curiosity and trepidation.

In a frantic rush, (Y/n) sprinted to the clinic, her footsteps echoing the urgency that gripped her. Once inside, she locked the door, seeking refuge from the chaos that unfolded on the streets. The clinic, now stood silent and desolate. Aware that no one would dare venture there due to the day's calamitous events, she knew she had to bide her time until the police arrived.

As she waited in the dimly lit clinic, her phone incessantly beeped with notifications, delivering grim news articles that painted a macabre picture of the recent developments. Headlines screamed about the League of Villains' ruthless attack, claiming the life of Snatch, a valiant sand hero. The reports intensified, revealing a more sinister turn of events – the man they sought to apprehend had allegedly kidnapped a young girl.

Trapped in the eerie silence of the clinic, (Y/n) was inundated with a sense of dread. The news articles, a digital tapestry of unfolding tragedy, served as a haunting backdrop to her solitude. Each notification, a grim reminder of the world unraveling beyond the clinic's secure walls, fueled her growing unease. As she anxiously awaited the arrival of the police, the weight of uncertainty and fear settled in, casting a shadow over her sanctuary.

Minutes stretched into agonizing hours as (Y/n) held her ground within the clinic's confines. The persistent ticking of the clock echoed the tension in the air, each passing second intensifying her anticipation. A sudden knock jolted her from her thoughts, and she raced to the door, hopeful for the arrival of law enforcement or a hero.

To her surprise and trepidation, the door swung open, revealing the tall and enigmatic figure of Dabi. He pushed himself inside with an air of urgency, swiftly closing the door behind him. As he turned to face her, (Y/n) couldn't contain the barrage of questions that flooded her mind.

"What happened out there? Why did you... kill that person?" she implored, her voice a mixture of confusion and concern. Dabi's turquoise gaze met hers, and he leaned dangerously close, a cryptic intensity emanating from him.

"Follow me," he commanded, his voice low and insistent, as he grabbed her hand. The gravity of his words hung in the air, leaving (Y/n) with no choice but to navigate the uncertain path he beckoned her towards.

Masterlist

#dabi #mha dabi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi x fem!reader #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #bnha dabi #bnha todoroki #bnha touya #mha todoroki #mha #mha x reader #bnha #boku no hero acedamia #bnha x reader #bhna #healing flames

[oldshowbiz]

Vancouver Coroner Glen McDonald recalled when Errol Flynn died in his city:

"I was about to leave [the] office when the telephone rang ... It was the dispatcher from Metropolitan Ambulance ... 'Mac, we've got a beauty for you.’ 

“The Vancouver City Police report ... managed to spell the celluloid hero's name wrong ... The news media and everyone else were on the phone ... The calls were fast and furious by now ... Even the night janitor was talking to The New York Times ... 

“His face was sallow and a bit puffy and he looked an awful lot older than fifty years. He looked worn out, wasted ... The autopsy concluded that the death was due to ‘myocardial infarction, coronary thrombosis, coronary atherosclerosis, fatty degeneration of the liver, portal cirrhosis of the liver and diverticulosis of the colon.’ 

“The belongings found on his person were itemized and bagged: eighty dollars, a credit card, cigarette lighter, a ring and a gold watch that was monogrammed.

"An observation that [Chief Pathologist] Dr. Tom Harmon made startled me. It concerned a number of VD warts on the end of Flynn's penis. Tom seemed fascinated. 'Well, Tom,' I said, 'They may be of clinical interest to you as a medical man, but there's going to be another autopsy done down in Los Angeles. I really don't think these warts are material to the case. Unless you disagree.' 

“Perhaps not,’ he said, ‘But, look, I'm going to be lecturing at the Institute of Pathology and I just thought it might be of interest if I could remove these things and fix them in formaldehyde and use them as a visual aid.' 

“No way!' I said. 'We're not going to do that. I don't want anything done that isn't relevant to the case because we're really in the limelight tonight. We're on the hot seat. How can we send Mr. Flynn back to his wife with part of his bloody endowment missing?' 

“So I insisted on absolutely no change or variation of routine procedures ... I left Doc Harmon and Errol Flynn alone in the autopsy room ... the telephones were still ringing like mad ... The night janitor had become an expert of evading questions ... Doc Harmon strolled casually into my office, 'Well, I've finished,' he said. 

“Tom and I went back to the autopsy room and the first thing I noticed was that the VD warts had gone - vanished from the end of Mr. Flynn's penis. Then I spotted a jar of formaldehyde on a shelf that looked suspiciously like it might contain VD warts. It did. Oh, God! Tom had gone and done it. 

“I sighed and asked the Doc, 'Did you have to remove those bloody warts ... Did Errol Flynn expire because he had warts on his dong?' Tom looked sheepish but we were both laughing at the utter silliness of the whole thing. 

“Put them back,' I said, 'Right now!' Maybe the Doc had never seen warts of that enormity. Maybe he wanted a souvenir. I never did figure out why the temptation had been too great ... So the bloody warts were fished out of the formaldehyde jar and, using the good offices of scotch tape, Doc Harmon and I stuck them back where they belonged.”

#hollywood babylon #errol flynn #british columbia #Vancouver

[freddyguykestner]

Chapter 61: REMOTE

I’m standing in my stylish, glass-walled, tastefully decorated apartment on the penthouse floor of the American Gardens building, looking out across the Manhattan skyline at the towering monuments of wealth and success. My physical position among these great concrete monoliths speaks of my own strength and achievements, as if I am one of them, made of breeze blocks and cement. I take a sip of J&B from my crystal tumbler and shake off the thought. The fantasy merely reminds me of my raw and aching yearning to belong. Although I couldn’t put a finger on what I was searching for all this time, I’d always felt the answers were somehow within my reach. I notice a red speck on the cuff of my Valentino Couture cotton shirt. Surrounded by the trappings of my success - my twin leather Mies van de Roche Barcelona chairs; my wall-mounted Roberto Lungo diptych; my 32” Sony Trinitron CRT TV, flanked on both sides by piles of unreturned Blockbuster videotapes; my Pioneer PD-4300 CD player; my Harmon Kardon stereo music system, complete with HK 725 preamp and HK EQ7 equalizer; my endless CD collection - I am consumed by an emptiness that no amount of material indulgence, no amount of dissecting girls can fill. The city below pulses with life, but within these walls, I am imprisoned in the kingdom of the dead. A cage of solitude, carefully and dutifully constructed by no one but myself.

The truth seems to emanate from my being, dwarfing even the tunes beamed from my HK 770 amp: Behind this meticulously crafted mask lies a craving, a desperation to break free from the suffocating grip of superficiality and meaningless, psychotic violence. My heart aches for human connection: I long for someone to see beyond the carefully crafted image I present to the world; through the layers of epidermis; of sinew and muscle painstakingly toned and hardened by rigorous daily workouts and dieting regimes; past the monster hidden beneath; deeper still, to glimpse the fractured soul trembling at the bottom of the well, crying out for the love it didn’t know it needed.

As the sounds of the mixtape bounce between my floor-to-ceiling windows and sparsely decorated, clinically white statement walls, the weight of isolation presses down upon me like a leaden cloak. In this soulless city of excess and extravagance, I am but a solitary figure adrift in a sea of indifference. The emptiness gnaws at my insides like a starved and entrapped rodent.

There is more than an idea of Patrick Bateman. I grab the remote and turn the volume of the hi fi system up full blast, as if to broadcast to the world, to anyone who will listen: “I am here”. The sound waves of my loneliness reverberate through the floors of the building, like heat passed from one being to another, a lament for the human connection that continues to elude me and perhaps always will.

#patrick bateman #american psycho #music #playlist #lonely thoughts #solitude #80s aesthetic #bret easton ellis #Spotify

[world-healt]

A Shield in the Digital Age: My Experience with the Defense Pendant

In today's world, we're constantly bombarded by electromagnetic fields (EMFs) emitted from our smartphones, laptops, Wi-Fi routers, and countless other devices. While technology has revolutionized our lives, concerns about the potential health risks of EMF exposure are rising. That's why I decided to try the Defense Pendant, a product designed to offer protection from harmful EMF radiation.

Taking Control of My Wellbeing

I've always been health-conscious, and the idea of mitigating potential risks from everyday technology appealed to me. The Defense Pendant's focus on creating a shield against EMFs resonated with my desire to take a proactive approach to my well-being. While extensive research on EMFs is ongoing, I felt empowered by the chance to potentially reduce my exposure.

Stylish Protection

The first thing that surprised me about the Defense Pendant was its design. I envisioned a bulky or clinical-looking device, but the pendant is surprisingly sleek and stylish. It comes in a variety of finishes, allowing me to choose one that complements my everyday attire. Now, I wear it not just for protection, but also as a conversation starter. It's a subtle way to show I'm taking charge of my health in the digital age.

Science-Backed Innovation

The Defense Pendant's website emphasizes its use of cutting-edge technology and scientific research. While I'm not a scientist myself, the explanation of how the pendant utilizes a blend of natural minerals and shielding tech to harmonize EMFs resonated with my desire for a solution based on sound principles. It gave me confidence that the product wasn't simply a gimmick.

A Noticeable Difference

Since wearing the Defense Pendant, I've noticed a subtle but positive shift in my energy levels. I used to experience occasional headaches and fatigue, especially after extended periods using electronic devices. While I can't definitively attribute this change solely to the pendant, the decrease in these issues has been a welcome development.

Peace of Mind in a Digital World

Perhaps the most significant benefit of the Defense Pendant is the peace of mind it offers. Knowing I'm taking a step towards mitigating potential EMF risks allows me to embrace technology without unnecessary worry. It's a small but impactful change that has demonstrably improved my overall well-being.

In Conclusion

If you're concerned about the potential health effects of EMF exposure and are looking for a stylish and user-friendly solution, the Defense Pendant is definitely worth considering. It combines innovative technology with a sleek design, making it a valuable addition to your everyday life. In a world saturated with electronics, the Defense Pendant offers a shield of protection and a sense of control over your well-being in the digital age.

#emf protection #disaster #invasion #destruction #competition #pendant #rings #jewelry #jewellery #necklaces #brooch

[r6-unifiedlands]

A Random Sunshine Encounter

[Remington "Espion" Harmonics & Julien "Rook" Nizan]

Summary: It's finally Espion's first visit to Viperstrike's base to get her gadgets improved! But Mira's not the only one overseeing her.

A/N: I promised myself that I wouldn't write above 1k today

When she entered Rainbow’s Greece Base, Reth noticed that Viperstrike’s base was surprisingly more high-tech than the other groups' tech labs. It’s not really that surprising for her, though. Many of Rainbow’s engineers and technicians came in and out to develop and research more technologies to make future operations easier.

Mira had ordered her to bring in her gadgets—Her motion-detecting knives that had been fucked up by a Certain Japanese Geek during the device evaluation—to look for a solution to the fragile casing.

…she couldn’t help marveling at the inner lab. It felt like she was again back in her old workshop in Nighthaven.

Before the young operator managed to get her grubby hands all over the pieces of machinery, however, she felt a pair of gloved hands grab her shoulder firmly and put enough pressure downwards to stop her from moving around.

“Wha—”

“Enchanté, Espion!” The figure looming over her suddenly spoke in a cheery tone. His light French accent reminded him of Gustave’s existence, making her head snap upwards to see who that was.

Messy dark chocolate hair in undercut style, five o’clock shadow on his well-defined jawline, dark blue eyes that sparkled like an excited golden retriever, and a smile that could bring joy and warmth to this cruel and cold world.

Oh, Jesus Christ, that’s a handsome man.

Maybe it was because the room was too cold or she suddenly developed a fever, but one of them was definitely the reason why her face reddened like crazy with nervous soft chitters coming out of her lips. Both palms tried to hide her current state.

The man was absolutely beaming, patting her light blonde hair while pulling her close to his tall body. “Mira told me that you’ll be joining us today, so I asked her to help assist you.” His tone was as bright as his personality. “My name is Julien Nizan, but you can call me Rook. I hope we can be good acquaintances!”

It didn’t help that her brain was short-circuited from the overwhelming amount of affection that he gave her, still struggling to say something.

He finally let her go after a while, finally snapping her from the overloading mind state. She almost immediately took multiple steps away, her face still looking bright red.

The sunshine expression faded slightly, eyes reflecting a sense of worry. “Sorry, did I overwhelm you?”

As much as she wanted to deny it, she did feel overwhelmed by his whole greetings.

And as Harry said during her last therapy session; be honest with people, or they will not know what their mistakes are.

She nodded slowly, avoiding eye contact. “...Sorry…” She muttered softly.

“It’s alright, mon ami.” Julien didn’t move an inch while keeping his warm tone, like a vet talking to a scared animal. “Take your time, okay? I can get Mira or Doc for you if you’d like.”

“It’s.” She paused, taking several deep breaths. Calm down, Reth. “I’m okay. I was just. Surprised. I’m no good to affection.” Her voice softened, now more like a whisper. “Gustave is scary. Don’t want to see him.”

“He’s a doctor. He’d take care of you.”

“Last time I saw him, he scolded me for being too rough in training and kept escaping his clinic while in his care.”

The taller operator grinned. “You’re not the only one.” He gave a wink that made the younger operator’s heart jump to her throat.

What the fuck. Oh my god. She shouldn’t be like this!!!

Reth whined out loud. Her frustration came out. Not because of the kind gent, no.

There’s a first time for everything. And it was the first time she felt like there were butterflies in her stomach, tickling her abdomen and trying to make her smile.

Julien’s happiness was infectious. 

Currently, it’s infecting the young operator.

“Stop making me happy!!” She whined in protest, but her giggling state betrayed her.

“I can’t help it! Ton sourire est contagieux!”

The French accent that she’d once associated with Gustave’s fatherly scolding now made her heart thump like crazy. Julien’s bright and positive attitude cleared out the negative association of what had been imprinted in her mind.

Was that a bad thing? Nope!

“And what are you guys doing?”

Those fluffy feelings sunk back into the depths and managed to snap Reth out of the current state. Her cheeks were still tinted red from the blood rush.

Elena leaned on the doorframe of the lab entrance while crossing her arms, dark eyes glaring at Julien. “What did you do to our new recruit, cabrón? She’s a tomato now!”

Now it’s the French’s turn to be flustered, cheeks dusted in pink. “Non! I was introducing myself and accidentally got her overwhelmed a bit.”

The Spaniard turned her attention to Reth, raising her eyebrows. The American quickly nodded in response.

“Well,” Elena cracked her knuckles, and satisfying pops came out, “introduction’s over. Let’s get back to work, you two.”

#r6s #r6s oc #r6s rook #r6s mira

[swoopyswish]

one thing i'll miss about working here is when a song is playing in the clinic and it's in a key that harmonizes with the whir of the treatment tables raising and lowering. anyways

#no one else who works here is openly a weirdo at the level where i would share this with them lmao so it's just my personal aural treat

[josephrblog]

Unveiling Radiant Skin: A Comprehensive Guide to ReFirmance Serum and User Satisfaction

In the ever-evolving landscape of skincare, ReFirmance Serum stands out as a beacon of hope, promising transformative results and a natural solution to common concerns like saggy skin and aging. This comprehensive guide takes a deep dive into ReFirmance, exploring user satisfaction, the unique formulation of the serum, its powerful ingredients, and the science behind its effectiveness.

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ReFirmance isn't just a skincare product; it's a commitment to quality and natural wellness. Developed in an FDA-approved and GMP-certified facility, the serum is free from chemicals and harmful synthetic materials. Users can trust in the serum's manufacturing quality, knowing that it prioritizes their skin's health and safety.

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The magic of ReFirmance lies in its powerful ingredients, each chosen for its clinically proven benefits. Micrococcus Lysate, Chrysin, Aloe Barbadensis, N-Hydroxysuccinimide – these natural wonders collectively contribute to the serum's transformative results.

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N-Hydroxysuccinimide and Cucumber Extract: Dynamic Duos for Under-Eye Brilliance

N-Hydroxysuccinimide and Cucumber Extract join forces to combat dark circles and puffiness around the eyes. N-Hydroxysuccinimide eliminates blood-originated pigments, reducing dark shades and inflammation. Meanwhile, Cucumber Extract's cooling and soothing properties provide a burst of hydration, combating puffiness and toning the skin.

Glycerin and Juvinity: Hydration Lock and Cellular Anti-Aging Revolution

Glycerin, a humectant, draws moisture into the skin, ensuring prolonged hydration. Juvinity, a patented lipid complex, counteracts cellular aging by maintaining telomere length, promoting cellular longevity.

What Are The Pros And Cons Of ReFirmance Serum?

Before diving into the ReFirmance experience, it's essential to weigh the pros and cons. Boasting 17 skin-boosting ingredients, a GMO-free and stimulant-free formula, and positive user reviews, ReFirmance has gained a solid reputation. However, transparency about manufacturing details is lacking.

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ReFirmance Reviews - Are Users Satisfied With Results?

The true measure of a skincare product lies in the satisfaction of its users. With an impressive 4.7-star rating based on over 18,800 positive customer reviews, ReFirmance has resonated profoundly. Users praise the visible improvements in skin texture, reduced sagging, enhanced hydration, and the natural ingredient composition.

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To instill confidence in potential users, ReFirmance offers a generous 60-day money-back guarantee. This risk-free trial period underscores the brand's commitment to customer satisfaction and belief in the serum's efficacy.

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To ensure authenticity and quality, ReFirmance is exclusively available on its official website. Bypassing third-party sellers, the brand fosters direct communication with customers, ensuring genuine products and access to official promotions or discounts.

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Final Words: ReFirmance, Your Lifeline to Youthful Suppleness

In conclusion, ReFirmance isn't just a serum; it's a lifeline for those seeking to defy the signs of aging. With a commitment to natural ingredients, proven efficacy, and a thriving community of satisfied users, ReFirmance emerges as a genuine game-changer in the skincare realm. For women looking to reclaim youthful vitality, ReFirmance might just be the answer to their skincare prayers.

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#refirmance #ReFirmance Review #ReFirmance Reviews #ReFirmance Serum #ReFirmance Serum Review #ReFirmance Serum Reviews #skincare

[doctorsrx]

Revolutionizing Weight Loss: The DoctorsRx Approach for Lasting Transformation

In the ever-evolving landscape of weight loss solutions, finding an approach that delivers lasting results can be a daunting task. Many individuals have experienced the disappointment of unfulfilled promises and ineffective methods. However, the emergence of medical weight loss solutions offers a ray of hope for those in pursuit of enduring change. Among the leaders in this field is DoctorsRx Medical Weight Loss, a beacon of reliability known for its impactful interventions.

Tailored Approach for Lasting Change

DoctorsRx Medical Weight Loss distinguishes itself through its commitment to personalized care. Their team of experienced doctors and healthcare professionals work collaboratively with patients to craft individualized weight loss plans that align with their unique needs and aspirations. These plans encompass a comprehensive integration of dietary adjustments, exercise regimens, behavior modifications, and judicious medication management.

The Power of Weight Loss Medications            

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[f4rlands]

(little yhs drabble about the halloween bus crash!)

By the end of the night, Taurtis has been stabbed and Sam has finally set his true colours on display, for all of town to see. It's clear now just how unstable he is, how volatile.

Taurtis insists that he’ll drive you back to the airport. He’s bleeding, and it seeps into the worn fabric of the bus seat, a sickening vermillion that you’ll never forget- that you still see in your nightmares 13 years later.

The ride itself is a blur of quiet, numb concern, fading to water-damaged snapshots tattooed in your mind as you sit, still as possible, as though that would help. What you do remember, though, is that he crashes.

It’s not surprising, it doesn’t feel like any sort of revelation: he bleeds and bleeds and bleeds until he passes out, slumping over the wheel, and the bus crashes. It swerves off of the empty road, into a ditch filled with brush and trees- and you can imagine what it would have sounded like. The harmonic shattering of windows and crunching of metal as the mechanical beast crumples in on itself; the sickening thud as Taurtis flies over the wheel and onto the boundary of the windshield and bonnet.

And then you get up, and you pull him out. You drag yourself and your best friend out from the smoldering wreckage of the schoolbus, away from the sharp stench of gasoline and blood. You have glass in your hands, your feet- ash and blood, tears and sweat everywhere. You worry that it has become a part of you as you trudge down the uneven tarmac road- that you're nothing more than an evidence of this event.

You take him to the hospital, the clinical lighting and sterile environment stark in contrast with the abandoned rubble of your only ticket out of this hellhole.

They ask about his medical history, his health insurance. They ask where you found him, why he has a stab wound, what were you doing?—

You realise they think it was you. You realise you need to get out of there before they call the police to arrest you, with implications and accusations enough to fight a pretty decent case, you must admit.

You don’t think to implicate Sam. It, somehow, doesn’t seem important to let them know the real cause of this.

Taurtis doesn’t leave that hospital for a long while; you’ll later find out that he was in a comatose state for months, in such poor condition it was difficult to tell if he would survive for the first several weeks.

In present, though, you leave and you think about the reality of the medical staff not knowing who he is- that there’s no way for them to contact any friends or relatives, there’s no way to know what to do with the body, or where to bury it in the eventuality Taurtis dies there alone.

He’s alone, because you leave. You leave your best friend unconscious in hospital, making your way back to Sam to ensure he knows exactly what he’s done, despite thoughtlessly saving him from the repercussions you know he deserves.

This is the beginning of the end. The first end, anyway, you will watch everything crumble again and again and again and again and again—

When you get back, you dress up as Taurtis. Sam asks you to, and, for so many different reasons, you cannot say no to him.

#yhs #yandere high school #grian #taurtis #samgladiator #writes

[sapphia]

Things are about to get said about Dan Harmon again, as he is the co-creator of Rick and Morty with a less-than-clean reputation of his own. If you haven't read his account of what he did to Megan Ganz, it's a good, thoughtful read that I would recommend checking out. (FYI: Ganz accepted this account of what happened and his apology).

--

“I was attracted to an employee. I really want to be really careful about that language because a huge part of the problem is a culture of feeling things that you think are unique and significant because they are happening to you and saying things like ‘I had feelings for’ and ‘I fell for’ and all these things. The most clinical way I can put it in fessing up to my crimes is that I was attracted to a writer I had power over because I was a showrunner, and I knew enough to know that these feelings were bad news.

“That was easy enough to know. I knew that they ran the risk of undercutting people’s faith in my judgement, her faith in her talent, the other writers’ respect for me, the entire production, the audience. I knew I wasn’t doing anybody any favors by feeling these things, and so I did the cowardly, easiest, laziest thing you can do with feelings like that and didn’t deal with them and in not dealing with them I made everybody else deal with them, especially her. Flirty, creepy, everything other than overt enough to constitute betraying your live-in girlfriend who you’re going home to every night, who is actually smart enough and respectful enough to ask you, ‘Do you have feelings for that young writer that you’re talking about, that you’re paying all this attention to?’ and saying to her, ‘No,’ because the trick is if you lie to yourself, you can lie to everybody. It’s really easy.

“And so that’s what I continued to do, telling myself and anybody that threatened to confront me with it that if you thought what I was doing was creepy or sexist or unprofessional it was because you were sexist or jealous. I was supporting this person. I’m a mentor. I’m a feminist. It’s your problem, not mine. You’re the one who actually is seeing things through that lens.

“And so I let myself keep doing it, and it’s not as if this person didn’t repeatedly communicate to me the idea that what I was doing was divesting her of a recourse to integrity. I just didn’t hear it because it didn’t profit me to hear it, and this was, after all, happening to me, right? After a season of playing it that way, I broke up with my girlfriend, who I had lied to the whole time, while lying to myself. Lied to her about why I was breaking up with her because I thought that would make having inappropriate feelings for a co-worker appropriate if I wasn’t involved.

“I want you to be the one to examine this, and every step of the way decide for yourself where I’m making mistakes. I don’t want to explain to you what I’ve learned. I want you to look at this, and I want it to sound relatively unremarkable to you because that’s the danger. I broke up with my girlfriend, and then I went right full steam into creeping on my employee. Now it was even less appropriate, after all. Now I wasn’t in danger of being a bad person. After that season, I got overt about my feelings after it wrapped. I said ‘I love you,’ and she said the same thing she had been saying the entire time, in one language or another, ‘Please, don’t you understand that focusing on me like this, preferring me like this, liking me like this, I can’t say no to it, and when you do it, it makes me unable to know whether I’m good at my job.’

“And because I finally got to the point where I said to her ‘I love you,’ because that’s what I thought it was when you target somebody for two years. And it was therefore rejected that way, I was humiliated. So, I continued to do the cowardly thing. I continued to do the selfish thing. Now I wanted to teach her a lesson. I wanted to show her that if she didn’t like being liked in that way then, oh boy, she should get over herself. After all, if you’re just going to be a writer then this is how ‘just writers’ get treated. And that was probably the darkest of it all. I’m going to assume when she tweets about it and refers to ‘trauma’ that’s probably it. I drank. I took pills. I crushed on her and resented her for not reciprocating it, and the entire time I was the one writing her paychecks and in control of whether she stayed or went and whether she felt good about herself or not, and said horrible things. Just treated her cruelly, pointedly, things I would never, ever would have done if she had been male and if I had never had those feelings for her.

“And I lied to myself the entire time about it. And I lost my job. I ruined my show. I betrayed the audience. I destroyed everything, and I damaged her internal compass. And I moved on. I’ve never done it before and I will never do it again, but I certainly wouldn’t have been able to do it if I had any respect for women. On a fundamental level, I was thinking about them as different creatures. I was thinking about the ones that I liked as having some special role in my life, and I did it all by not thinking about it. So, I just want to say, in addition to obviously being sorry, but that’s really not the important thing, I want to say I did it by not thinking about it, and I got away with it by not thinking about it. And if she hadn’t mentioned something on Twitter, I would have continued to not have to think about it, although I did walk around with my stomach in knots about it, but I wouldn’t have had to talk about it.

“The last and most important thing I can say is just think about it. No matter who you are at work, no matter where you work, in what field you’re in, no matter what position you have over, under, or side-by-side with somebody, just think about it. Because if you don’t think about it, you’re going to get away with not thinking about it, and you can cause a lot of damage that is technically legal and hurts everybody.

“And I think we’re living in a good time right now because we’re not gonna to get away with it anymore. If we can make it part of our culture that we think about it and possibly talk about it, then maybe we can get to a better place where that stuff doesn’t happen.

“So that’s it. Please don’t hurt her. Please don’t make this worse on anybody but me.”

#dan harmon #i have a lot of thoughts about dan harmon and they are all conflicted #but i think his story is an example of when you have to allow someone the space to learn from their mistakes and become a better person #rather than the easier task of just writing him off #but that would be easier if what actually happened was more known rather than just vague 'he was a creep to his staff' #without mention of his apology or his attempts to deal with his issues