#Dr Trousers Clinic

[graystreet003]

All a game

#Dr Trousers Clinic #Dr Trousers #Gray Allard #Jean Duka #Adam Clarges #TimDTC #Asher Barnes #pre mortem Gray #pre Trousers Jean #pre Trousers Adam #DTC

[laughsinfandom]

Younger Adopted MC {M6 Headcanons + Mini Fic!}

“Hey I hope you are well, do you do plutonic fics like a teen mc who's kinda like a sibling to the main 6?”

Hello! Hopefully this is close to what you asked for… I’ve caught a cold from a friend of mine and it’s hitting me right in the gut so I’m sorry if some of these seem a bit off…

T-T

Thank you so much for requesting though! ❤️

==============================

Asra

He often saw you about in the market place, after discovering your rather unique take on magic and interest in it. He decided to take you under his wing.

After awhile you both grew closer.

He kept an eye on you, gave you housing and food.

While you both practiced magic you’d attempt to toss small magical jolts towards Asra. Which resulted in a small, of course playful fight.

He would always win.

When you hurt yourself practicing magic he’d always attempt to heal it, if it went beyond his abilities he’d take you to whoever he could.

(Usually Julian but sometimes he’d rather just do it himself.)

~~~~

“You know, you could just ASK to use my deck right?”

He had caught me, Tarot deck in hand. I grumble an apology as he looks at me. Giving him a huff I gently place the deck into his hand.

“I just wanted to see..” At my words he chuckles, a large smile now on his face.

“Again, you could have asked! Come on, I’ll show you.”

You perk up at his comment. “Wait really??” He gets a happy little pep in his step as he walks over to his usual spot at the table, he gestures for me to come with.

I happily hop out of my chair and walk over.

“I’ll even teach you how to use it properly, how’s that sound?”

🎭 Julian & Portia 🐈

You had taken an interest in medical work which landed you right in the clinic of a Dr. Devorak.

You followed him around as an understudy and he just enjoyed your company.

He slowly opened up and started to treat you much like his own sibling Portia.

Speaking of her—

Portia would often come by the clinic to drop off some goods or just to say hey to Julian, which you always loved to see her but you two also became really close

You would both giggle to each other and poke small jabs at Julian while he was scrunched away in his office

One day he walked in on you both laughing and he asked what it was about, you both still to this day have refused to tell him he had a rather interesting hole in his trousers.

The three of you would hang out and get into some trouble when the time was right-

Since Portia worked at the palace it was sort of easy to get in and out unnoticed, You and Julian would constantly attempt to scare Portia while she ran around the palace doing small errands for the Countess.

Which she hated.

You and Portia on the other hand would rearrange Julian’s lovely Leech collection.

Slowly start adding more and more small SHINY random objects within his office.

Malak would go bonkers

You and Portia would run as soon as you heard both Julian and the Bird start cawing at each other.

——————

“Okay… one…two…threeeeee…NOW”

You and Portia Jumped out of the small closet within the Doctors office, both of you putting on your best scary face as the Lanky gentleman in front of you scrambled out of his chair, a loud scratchy scream vibrated the walls.

As he registered who was standing in front of him now he straightened out and put on a rather stern face.

“You two need to knock it off. One day i’ll-“

You cut him off with a laugh. “I’ll finally have to put my pirate combative skills to use!” His face went unchanged as you continued to mock him. Both you and Portia quickly fall to the floor attempting to catch whatever air you could back into your lungs.

Hearing footsteps coming towards you both you quickly look up to see Julian’s arms outstretched with sprawled out fingers, a very wicked grin on his features.

“That’s it.”

Portia gets the right idea first and quickly jumps up and books it out the office door, a loud “SORRY” can be heard as she runs away.

“Oh-“

🐺 Muriel

Inanna was the first one to sniff you out, and once she got your scent there was no running

Muriel followed close beyond

They found you all curled up and cold in the forest

Inanna being absolutely fascinated with you

Muriel not so much

Inanna managed to convince him to bring you home and get you out of the rain

While you made a quick recovery you managed to worm your way into this mans brain

As the days went past you began shuffling around his hut, whatever you could find to entertain yourself was enough

You managed to make a small fort out of the furs he had and Inanna fell in love.

He would come home from collecting things out in the forest and he would be stumped to find you both curled into each other in the small fuzzy fort

You would almost constantly find some way to mess with Muriel, whether it be misplacing his whittling tools or hiding away somewhere in the hut to only be sniffed out by Inanna.

———————

“Inanna Hush!” You whispered to the wolf, her tail only wagged faster and faster, a small happy yip falling from her mouth.

You were currently hiding away in the hut, underneath a pile of Fur. Muriel had been out all day and you wanted to play a small prank on him when he got home.

But Inanna was giving away your spot.

You heard loud heavy footsteps just outside the hut door and in a quick move of desperation you grab Inanna and pull her into the pile of furs with you.

“(Y/N)… Inanna?” Muriel low voice can be heard just barely against the furs. You felt Inanna tail begin to move against your leg and you quickly go to grab it, as you did so she licked your face.

You giggle as she continues to lick away at your face but your stomach sinks when the furs are pulled away from you.

Muriel stands before you, Furs in hand and a rather confused look on his face.

“What… are you two doing?”

Inanna jumps away and happily rubs against Muriels leg, another happy yip falling from her.

“Well… Ya see…I was supposed to scare you but, Inanna had different plans…” You huff.

👑 Nadia

You had been working as a palace worker for a while now, Nadia had taken a special interest in you-

She would often call upon you for small things, or even just to chat

The other palace workers were getting a bit jealous-

You seemed to be one of her favorites.

After a while she started treating you like a sibling-

Older sister dotting after their youngest sibling-

She would call you around the palace and ask for your assistance with personal matters or just to have tea with you

Your tea talks consisted of speaking about nobles, talking about new fashion that began popping up around the region-

Girl stuff

———————

“Now darling you HAVE to try on this outfit it will be perfect for the dance!” Nadia handed you a rather beautiful ball gown, but with the large smile on her face you just chuckled.

She whipped back around and began rummaging through a small jeweled box, when you turn to place the out on the small chair next you, you heard a muffled laugh fall from the countess.

“Now with THIS, you’ll look absolutely stunning!” She turns around with a small dainty necklace, a very large grin plastered to her face.

“Nadia, are you sure?” At your question she nods and quickly turns you around to hook the necklace around you.

Knock Knock

Both you and Nadia turn to look at the door, the countess straightens up and she walks over. When she peaks her head out you laugh a bit as you catch sight of a rather large tea pot settled upon a tray.

When she grabs the tray and sends the servant away she happily walks back over and hands you a cup.

“Now let’s talk, These guests will have the most-“

“Horrendous haircuts?” You giggle at Nadia’s face. Her hand goes to cover her mouth as you see her attempt to hold back laughter.

“Well, yes actually.”

You both erupt into laughter.

🐐Lucio

The count had almost ignored you entirely at first.

When you managed to befriend his dogs however, he became rather interested.

He began to follow you around as you busied yourself around the palace

He would ask you to clean his pictures

Maybe go polish one of his statues

For behind who he was you always seemed to be so sassy towards him

“You know, I could have you executed..?”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well that’s a shame, if I die then there’ll be no one else to willingly polish your statues anymore.”

“I-“

You Just grew on him

He would almost always come to you and complain about his day or talk about people and you just listened

You would make fun of him sometimes for his rather bratty attitude and he would always attempt to fight you for it.

For all his talk though he never did actually fight you.

———————

“And THEN He had the NERVE to call me a-“

“Bratty child?”

“YES” Lucio’s voice reverberated off the walls of the room you were in, you were attempting to clean out this old novelty room but it was hard with the count constantly moving things and tossing and turning on the floor.

Much like a child.

“When are you gonna be done?”

“As soon as I’m done.”

Lucio groaned at your response and he sat up from the floor, you turn to look at him and you see him begin to look at the room rather intently.

“What’s the matter…?” You asked.

“This room needs more pictures of me.. or more so A picture of me.”

You couldn’t help but groan at his comment. But he was kind of right, almost every room in the palace had something that either looked like him or gave off his energy so this room was rather unique in the … non-lucio items that decorated its walls.

#the arcana #arcana #the arcana x reader #asra alnazar x reader #muriel #muriel x reader #the arcana muriel #asra the magician #asra alnazar #Julian #Julian devorak #Portia #Portia devorak #nadia satrinava #nadia #Nadia x reader #nadia satrinava x reader #julian devorak x reader #Julian x reader #Portia x reader #portia devorak x reader #count Lucio #count Lucio x reader

[invivoinsomnium]

You decided to go with IVF in order to have kids, and you find a doctor willing to do it for almost free, so long as you come back to his clinic for all checkups, and to give birth. You rationalize the discount, maybe he's just starting out. After the procedure, you are informed it was a success! Only one of your embryos implanted, but you're just fine with that. You start showing early, and it feels like your skin can't keep up with the growth. At every checkup, he informs you that your baby is healthy, if a little on the chunky side. You can't shake the feeling that something is off though, but the doctor reassures you that all IVF mothers worry. Then when you start to feel movements, it feels almost like popcorn in your belly, and you wonder if that's normal. You're starting to really get huge, and even though you only see one baby on the scans, you swear you can feel more than four limbs and a head pressing against your insides. Finally, the time comes, and your belly looks massive. Your labor feels short but intense, as though your body is more than eager to evict your giant baby. Finally, when your baby slides free at last, you feel exhausted, and relieved. The Dr hands you your baby, and rubs your still huge belly. "Alright, take a quick rest, and then we'll get the rest out." 'the rest'? You're confused, but a dreadfully cold understanding settles on you. Over the next 12 hours, you push out three more babies, but each is carted away as soon as the umbilical is cut. Turns out, the doctor was running a shady surrogacy service under the table, and making a profit on both sides.

I'll be honest here anon, I'm more into the forced pregnancy aspect instead of willingly allowing myself to be artificially inseminated. That being said, this is quite hot. The idea of being turned into an unwilling surrogate, of being tricked by someone I should be able to trust. This definitely ticks a few boxes.

Add in a shady underground clinic, forced articial insemination and some restraints....

I scream and shout, fighting against the leather straps on my wrists as I'm wheelled into the exam room, a nurse gripping my legs tightly as I try to kick her. I was just meant to be going in for a routine exam...an MOT for my body if you will. Now I find myself fighting against doctors and nurses I've never seen before. My trousers and underwear are pulled from my body before my legs are secured into stirrups. I wince at the sharp pain as they're stretched wide. "Yes. She will make an excellent surrogate. I can see many clients bidding for the use of her womb," a male voice remarks as he sits down between my spread legs, as a nurse applies cold gel just beneath my abdomen and another wheels in a tray of instruments. "Of course they're going to have to wait, we've already had a client pay for her." "Pay for me? What the hell are you talking about? What are you going to do to me?!" I demand still trying to struggle. "Hush 7298, it's better if you cease struggling, this isn't a very pleasent procedure as it is. Now take a few deep breaths for me," the male voice orders me, "I'm going to implant a fertilized embryo into your womb. You're going to be helping a very rich couple have an heir of their own. The wife doesn't want her body ruined with pregnancy and has decided you'll be the perfect surrogate," the voice continues, "Of course every client is different, some want their own eggs used, others will want your eggs used, sometimes we'll be implanting other times we'll be fertilizing, it all depends on the buyer." I can barely breath as the truth comes to light. I try to renew my struggles but I'm given something to help my body relax and make me pliable. "Yes, she'll be very popular indeed," the male voice chuckles, "nurse, make a reminder to set 7289 up for an egg retrieval procedure, after the delivery and she's had time to heal," the voice adds. Is this my life? Forced into surrogacy? Forced to bear offspring after offspring despite my desire to never become pregant?

#pregnancy #dark #medfet #fantasy #horror #forcedpregnancy #forced surrogacy #artifical insemination #medical impregnation

[pbaintthetb]

Since you're currently rewatching House... "I wish you would write a fic where" the MDZS crew are in a modern day AU and NHS drags NMJ to House because of his strange qi deviation symptoms :) Bonus points if Wen Qing is one of House's interns!

oooh very interesting idea. So, I took a stab and have about 2.5k of random segments (not chronological sorry) I did find the voices kind of hard to get

s1-3 era i guess if only because it's the original duckinglins + wen qing. It's also slightly unclear whether cultivation exists in this and if so whether people know about it or not but eh

If i do more segments, becuase i had some in mind I will reblog this and add on to it but I make zero promises. Not sure how many of the things you wanted I hit but I had fun spitballing, even if the House and WQ voice is hard

***

“I didn’t realise they let war criminals work in hospitals these days,” Mingjue comments, it’s meant to sound idle, but to Huaisang it sounds icey. He expects it sounds pretty damn icey to Wen Qing too.

“Good thing I’m not a war criminal then,” Wen Qing refutes with a tight smile, moving her stethoscope to Da-ge’s back. Mingjue humphs, Huaisang digs into his thigh with his key through his trouser pocket and wishes he didn’t have to be so responsible.

Not because he wants Xichen or A-Yao to be doing this (not necessarily at least) just… Huaisang had moved heaven and earth to be here and frankly he’d rather not. They haven’t met Dr House either yet… though from what Nie Huaisang had read that might actually be a good thing.

He looks at his brother and Wen Qing again, her face is in deep concentration, and Mingjue’s is furrowed in an expression that means discomfort of some kind. What kind, Huaisang doesn’t know. For all he prides himself as a brother, he’s no expert in reading the microexpressions. 

And a lot has happened recently, a lot of things that could be causing discomfort in all kinds of ways.

Or maybe it’s even guilt for how he’s been acting. Huaisang wouldn’t know. His brother has been a growing stranger to him these past few months. And then last night…

Nie Huaisang looks at his brother in Wen Qing’s hands and thinks about maybe getting some air, maybe even going on a walk to the coma ward. But he can’t bear to leave his brother, and as he looks at Wen Qing, he feels- somewhat despondently- that she’s a lot stronger than he is.

But Nie Huaisang doesn’t want to be strong, Da-ge’s strong, Huaisang is persistent and weak. Which is why he’s dragged his brother here, despite all the complaining. He knows he’s only being humoured, and he knows why he’s being humoured.

But Huaisang will take a hundred burnt fans if it means a healthy Da-ge. Besides, a hundred burnt fans would still leave the nice one Jiang Cheng got him after they left that Gusu Summer camp a while back.

“How long have you been having these symptoms?” Wen Qing asks clinically, bringing Huaisang’s focus back into the room. He chides himself, what is the point of being here if he doesn’t pay the utmost attention?

***

“Don’t you wonder how your intern and Guangyao know each other?” the big guy demands. The way the big guy spits the name suggests some kind of history there. House is kind of interested, except he expects it’ll be pretty banal so, maybe not.

“I don’t know,” House drawls, twirling his cane, “She’s a renowned doctor, he’s an innovative music therapist, both working at hospitals in New Jersey- of course!” he gasps sarcastically, “Did they meet in a sex dungeon?” He tuts, shaking his head, “Naughty, naughty Qing. First Chase, now her- do you reckon she uses those needles for extra-curricular purposes?”

Just for good measure House throws in a leer. If he’s reading this guy right, wound up and uptight as he is, he’s about to lunge. Which means House can get him restrained. Which means House has a better chance of doing the tests he wants with the consent of the obviously confused, and obviously devoted little brother.

There’s a story there too… but House has no time for sob stories.

The big guy stares at him flatly.

“There’s no shame  in sex, that would be a stupid reason for me to be angry at them.”

Interesting.

“Whoa! Who said anything about being angry?” House asks all mock confused,  “I thought we were just discussing how they met?”

The patient gives him another side eye.

“You’re not half as slick as you think you are.” With that the guy settles back down in bed.

Which is just hurtful really. Also interesting. House doesn’t exactly think he’s trying to be slick, so it’s interesting that the patient thinks he is.

***

“Cuddy’s been hunting House all day to get him to do his clinic hours,” the blond doctor explains, probably to his colleagues, because they adopt matching expressions of complete comprehension.

“Oh really,” Da-ge hums, expression unimpressed, and he’s looking right at Huaisang. Huaisang gulps. “Sounds lik-”

Whatever it was that Da-ge was going to say shirking work sounded like (and Huaisang has really no idea!) is cut off by the sudden spew of blood from his mouth.

Sadly- and it really is, at this point Huaisang is kind of used to it so he’s not even-

He’s not even surprised.

He still screams and flinches though, crying and begging the doctors to do something.

And they do, running around, saying words just short of a yell that all sound very serious and complicated. So Nie Huaisang stops yelling,  because nobody needs his words too.

***

Mingjue doesn’t like Dr. House because the man is a dick. It does not mean, however, that he doesn’t respect him. Dr House is honest, at least. Unlike some people. Dr House is honest about having no real regard for Mingjue, no respect for order or regulations, a purely academic understanding of morality and being a curmudgeony arse.

Nie Mingjue isn’t overly fond of Wen Qing either, though that’s less to do with her skills and her honour. Mingjue has faith in those because he’s experienced them first hand. He just doesn’t like her.

Plenty of people have done things they didn’t really like very much in circumstances they’d infinitely prefer to not be in. But there’s always a choice but Wen Qing had made hers, and Mingjue- well. What happened happened in the way it did.

House, Dr House is staring at him rather intently. Mingjue lets him, he’s used to being stared at. He hit six-foot when he was fourteen, and he’s six-four now with the breadth to match. And he’s used to being stared at because ever since their father died all the questions have been directed at him. And he’d certainly been stared at under Men- Jin Guangyao’s dark stare in that room wit-

Mingjue cuts off that train of thought, feeling his head pound. The Doctor is still staring at him, leaning forward.

“Your brother thinks you’re crazy, you know? Cuckoo, loo-loo, the whole works.”

Mingjue doesn’t say anything, his hands fist in the sheets. He knows. He knows Xichen thinks so too and that’s why nobody ever listens to anything he says. They look at him and see his father twenty years too soon.

But Huaisang didn’t drag him here to have his head looked at. Huaisang’s happy to defer to Xichen and the rat about that. Mingjue knows that, he knows that. He’s here because Huaisang sees their father twenty-years too soon and there’s been a countdown going off in his didi’s head since the first time he found the bloody tissues Mingjue had stuffed in the bin in an ill-thought out plan of hiding them.

Honestly though, how was he to suspect Huaisang would be looking in the rubbish, the little brat never did any tidying and now Mingjue is here when it’s all-

“Huh,” Dr House says thoughtfully, “You do know. Maybe you’re not crazy then, crazy’s not usually so self-aware.”

Mingjue’s not so sure. Their father had been self-aware enough between all the moments where he wasn’t to be horrified. Not that that horror had done much, locked into an endless battle with their father’s pride. He’s not sure how to word all of this to Dr House, and he’s not even sure if he wants to. So he doesn’t.

Mingjue’s here because Huaisang wants him to be here and Mingjue wants Huaisang to be safe. Mingjue’s proud, but not so proud as their father. If he lashes out here there’s a syringe of haldol waiting for him and orderlies to hold Huaisang back.

Mingjue would prefer not to be here, but if Huaisang won’t let him alone (and Mingjue knows his didi can’t) then this is the best place to be.

“Ignoring me won’t make me go away, you know,” the irritating doctor singsongs. It tempts Mingjue to try, even though he’s had years of a little brother and is very well acquainted with this fact.

***

“San-ge and Er-ge would never hurt Da-ge,” Huaisang objects, voice going high with his wail. They swore a brotherhood! Sure, things aren’t so good right now, but things aren’t always so good with Huaisang and Mingjue and neither would hurt the other.

The stupid Dr House just cocks his head. Wen Qing is standing a little behind him, face carefully blank.

“Very convincing. You convinced enough to stake your brother’s life on that?”

“I-” Huaisang starts, stops. Heart trembles. It feels like a betrayal. Saying no. Saying yes.

He looks at Wen Qing and thinks about the coma ward, three floors down, 2 corridors across.

“I wouldn’t stake my brother’s life on anything,” he refutes. Concession, admission, permission, whatever.

***

“I don’t know,” Foreman responds, “My brother and I? We were never like that.”

Chase is sprawled out in a chair, Cameron is the same but she’s doing a much better job of making it look elegant. Foreman is leaning forward with his elbows on the table, hands clasped.

And Wen Qing is standing there, like it’s her first day again, an outsider.

It’s this case, she knows the patient and she doesn’t know him and she- Well she doesn’t know much about Huaisang. But A-Ning had said enough things before that she’s just…

But as much as she doesn’t really know either of the brothers, she does know this.

“Both their mothers died in childbirth, and their father’s been dead for over a decade,” Wen Qing interjects, walking over to the coffee pot so she doesn’t have to look at them. She thought she’d buried this when she’d moved here. Except for A-Ning; she could never bury him, Wen Qing refuses. 

“They’ve only got each other.” The pot’s empty and she scowls in disgust. “Siblings like that- they either can’t stand each other or they’d do anything for each other.” Maybe both. She doesn’t think of a certain little brother of her own, because she’s on the job right now and even as she’s always thinking of him she can’t.

“They’re half brothers?” Cameron asks, and Wen Qing won’t take this accusation.

“Yeah it’s in their history, I-”

“No- no,” Cameron waves her off, “It’s just- Huaisang seems so convinced as much as it’s like their father’s illness, it’s different- and Huaisang seems utterly unaffected. What if it’s something Mingjue got from his mother?”

“What, like a completely different condition that just mimics the one his father had?” Foreman snorts, kicking out his legs, “That’s likely.”

“Or maybe…” Chase starts like he’s had a thought, “It’s some kind of [interaction]. He got his father’s illness, and he’s got something from his mother that’s making it act like this.”

They all consider that for a moment.

“We need to tell House.” Wen Qing’s already walking out of the room.

***

“The mental symptoms!” House yells, “The guy’s got fucking PTSD- and nobody noticed, not even his supposedly so devoted brother.”

“But-”

“Oh jeez, if only there was a reason that the mental symptoms were so much more aggressive and and in flux than what they reported of his father- if only there were a doctor on my team who knew the patient, but-”

Wen Qing burns, she burns so hard she can’t even hear the insult to her character House is no doubt lumping out. She can’t talk about this, she can’t.

Meng Yao’s, or whatever he’s calling himself these days, has good fucking lawyers, and enough skills to have kept himself alive under her Uncle’s watchful eye for a year. Wen Qing had signed, and signed, and A-Ning’s upstairs and Meng Yao’s somewhere else and-

Mingjue is worth nothing compared to A-Ning, do no harm be damned. And not even Huaisang’s fury is enough of a motivation. She understand that fury, she understands it well, it burns inside her everyday her brother doesn’t wake up.

“I said,” Wen Qing hisses, aware of the stares of her fellow interns on her, and the genuine angry glare of House, “That I suspected he’d been through trauma recently- as did his brother!”

House does not look calmed in the slightest, he takes a step toward her.

“Well maybe next time use the word ‘torture’. It’s got a certain buzz that really makes it shine out as an alarm bell.”

Her ears ring, and ring. She can’t say anything, and if anyone else is speaking, she can’t hear it.

***

Wilson doesn’t know how he always ends up in House’s conference room dragged into a case that clearly isn’t cancer and therefore doesn’t need an Oncologist to consult. But, well, House is House (demanding bastard) and Wilson is Wilson (needy bitch) so maybe he does know.

The children as House would term them are all throwing out theories and Wilson is following along well enough to understand, but nothing’s sounding like cancer and House never hired Wilson so he’s not really giving out any theories.

That’s when the man walks in. Anybody unknown walking into Houses’ office can go a few ways, so Wilson preemptively prepares for something to be thrown. Except the guy’s just looking at Wilson.

“You have another doctor in your team?” the man asks House uncertainly, but he’s still looking obsessively at Wilson. It’s kind of weird.

“No, no, I’m just here as a consult,” Wilson explains politely, “Dr James Wilson.” He extends a hand.

The man- who’s kind of more of a kid takes it nervously, still staring at him.

“You’re an oncologist,” the unknown guy, who is probably related to House’s current patient in some way, states. Brother? 

“Yeah I am,” Wilson chuckles awkwardly, mentally kicking himself. “How did you know that?” Because if he knew the patient knew he was an oncologist, he wouldn’t have said. Nobody likes hearing you’re an oncologist, unless you’re saying you’ll never see them again. And even then, sometimes they don’t like it.

“It’s on your door,” the brother of the patient says, still sounding uncertain. “Does this mean you think my brother has… uh- I mean, whatever it is that oncologists treat?” his voice has gone up at the end.

Mentally, Wilson is raising a brow, externally he is not. He is a professional and actually knows what the term ‘bedside manner’ means, unlike some people in this room.

House doesn’t raise a brow either, but that’s because House doesn’t believe in restricting yourself to non-verbal symbols of rude disbelief when words can be twice as insulting.

“Whatever oncologists treat,” House drawls mock sympathetic, the patient’s brother twitches with what could be embarrassment. “No, we don’t. Dr Wilson is just here to stare at Cameron’s ass. Or maybe Chase’s- who can tell them apart from behind?!” 

Wilson looks to the ceiling for salvation while House guffaws and Chase and Cameron scowl.

The guy is still looking at Wilson, and taking pity, Wilson divulges.

“No, we don’t think he has cancer.”

The guy nods, not as if this is good news, but rather as if this is news he’s always known.

***

“Brother shops around for the best diagnostician he can find, but doesn’t even know what an oncologist is?” House shakes his head and helps himself to some of Wilson’s fries. Wilson offers a put-upon expression in return, but he hasn’t touched his drink so he’s probably not actually put upon. Besides, Wilson knows House is going to eat his food, if he wants it to stop happening he should stop buying it.

“So?” Wilson asks, playing his role of audience participation in their private one-man show as always. “I didn’t realise that your webpage had the definition of oncology on it- right underneath your name I suppose?.”

House shoots him a look for the snark. And the blatant missing of the obvious point.

“The first thing anybody does, when they google symptoms is find cancer,” House explains, Wilson nods, so maybe he gets it too now. Gets how weird it is- and House doesn’t like things that don’t make sense.

“Ok,” Wilson is still nodding and House takes some more fries while he’s distracted, “But isn’t he here because he thinks his brother has what their dad had? Which wasn’t cancer? So he doesn’t think it’s cancer, so doesn’t need an oncologist. He’s deadset on it being this one thing so he’s not looking at anything else.”

House shakes his head, he doesn’t know what it is or why it’s bothering him but it is.

“He’s here because he thinks it’s not operating like what their dad had, which is when worried younger siblings start running down the cancer route and looking for the best Oncologist they can find-” he shoots Wilson a significant look “-but he skips that altogether and brings his brother here- his sick brother who’s been sick for a while but only just agreed to come.”

It’s interesting, it’s a puzzle. House likes puzzles and he’d rather puzzle out what’s affecting the older brother right now, but a man can always multitask.

#mdzs #house md #crossover #nie bros #tumblr fic #fic #ask game #wip #very happy to talk further on this or answer questins about what other people are doing #other snippets i was interested in were house nad wq actually talking #one of the other ducklings trying to sus out nhs #jgy showing up and all the disaster that entails #nhs trying to get nmj away from jgy not becuase he has anything against jgy but #because he can see jgy makes his brother really uncomfortable and soz jgy we can only be friends when nmh isn;t around now #sibling issues #nhs is kinda very book dumb in this but he's reasonably perceptive and is activley upping his game becuase his brother is DYING #also a running theme is house being a brat to nmj #who doesn't like it per se but is well used to people hating work who want to get a rise out of him in order to get what they want akak nhs

[jennyboom21]

Dianna Agron is running late — she’s stuck on the subway. I have no problem believing this because I am on the exact same train a few cars away, as we learn when she sends me a heads-up text. My phone slowly receives a selfie of Agron waving through a grainy train window, face curtained by long light-brown hair, along with another message about how tickled she is that we’re sharing a classic New York experience. And it’s one we continue when we finally make it to The Odeon, the iconic Tribeca bistro. “It's been a staple since the 1980s, which is what I love about this place,” she says in her lilting voice as we mull over the menu. “This is a place that was happening when I was born and didn't even know that it would be waiting for me when I moved to New York City.” We get two dirty martinis and a plate of fries before gleefully cheering to being in our 30s. “I love this time, though,” she adds.

Agron has been thinking a lot about her 30s, and not just because we’re meeting up two weeks before her 37th birthday. Her new movie, Clock, out now on Hulu, is a sci-fi horror film that explores the immense societal pressures women, in particular those without children, face in that decade of their lives. But the film’s messages about making your own choices also resonate within the arc of her career. Agron spent six seasons on the pop culture juggernaut that was Glee — and enduring the intense public scrutiny that came with it — before more recently finding acclaim with a string of indie movies like Shiva Baby and Novitiate. With Clock, Agron pushed herself again. There are big action scenes (hanging from cliffs, elbow-deep gore), as well as dark emotional depths (involving painful family secrets coming to life). “Collected experience really does add up,” she says. “And I think that the life I've lived the last 10 years in some ways has been more magnificent and more challenging than my more formative years.”

Lanvin coat, SKIMS bra, Talent’s own trousers, Pamela Love earrings

Agron never thought she’d try her hand at horror, but the Clock script hit too close to home to resist. She plays Ella, a 30-something who doesn’t want kids but eventually gives into the pressure of prying family and friends and enrolls in an experimental clinical trial, under the leadership of Dr. Simmons (Melora Hardin), that promises to help women who don’t experience having a biological clock. “The moment I turned 30,” Agron says, “the amount of questions that I felt were far too personal — and from truly everyone — just intensified year by year.”

Even for an actor who came up in the Perez Hilton era of celebrity blogging and is used to skirting prying questions, Agron still finds herself surprised sometimes. Just last year, she was on a red carpet at the Tribeca Film Festival promoting the sci-fi drama Acidman when a journalist asked her out of the blue if her mother’s name, Mary, would be “top of the list” for her. “I truly had no idea what she was talking about, so I asked for clarification and she said, ‘The top of your baby list,’” Agron says. “I said, with all of the kindness, ‘You have no idea what my personal journey is. And I'm quite surprised that you asked me that at my workplace when I'm here to discuss a film that I'm in.’” The message didn’t land. “She had no remorse. She just bopped along to the next question.”

Michael Kors Collection clothing and belt, Agmes earrings

Clock only took on more meaning throughout production. Agron was in Texas shooting the last day of principal photography when the draft Supreme Court opinion overturning Roe v. Wade leaked. “It did not feel good, that's for sure,” she says. “But then felt in some ways good that we were making [a movie that speaks] to some of the perils of being a woman and making choices that are more aligned with your own sense of self, as opposed to making choices for other people.” She dips a fry into one of the many condiments we’ve ordered. “All it takes is a film or a piece of journalism [for people] to open their eyes to different experiences that they could never imagine for themselves and have no personal touch points for. As a woman and one who very much loves women and loves the immense and enormous abilities that we have to carry so much, I wish that we had to carry less.”

When writer-director Alexis Jacknow was looking to cast Ella, she knew what she wanted: “It was very important to me that that character just already have a natural, grounded nature, a gravitas to her.” And she knew right away after meeting her that Agron could deliver. “There was absolutely nothing she wouldn’t do,” Jacknow says. “She pushed me, and there was just no hesitation on her part. She showed up every single day, 110%, and gave us everything.”

That is not an exaggeration. During one scene, Ella cracks open eggs into a frying pan and begins to eat them raw with a spoon. Jacknow didn’t want anyone to flaunt food safety guidelines, but Agron thought the only way to sell the scene was to actually do it. “Beef tartare, a whiskey sour,” Agron says, listing all the indulgences with raw ingredients she already enjoys. (There are reasons those are safer than raw eggs, but just go with it.) Jacknow proposed a compromise: Agron could put the raw eggs in her mouth as long as she spat them instead of swallowing. Agron agreed — or at least pretended to. “I winked at our [director of photography] and motioned at him like, ‘Don’t cut,’” she says, laughing. “I go to pick up the egg, I swallow it and go to take another bite. And I just hear, ‘Dianna, what the f*ck?!’”

Dries Van Noten clothing, Khiry earrings

Agron hasn’t always felt such autonomy in her career. When she was in her early twenties, she booked a role in a “big studio film” that, though ultimately a positive experience, involved an eye-opening screen test. “It was like, ‘We don’t like her hair like that, we need her to be more girly. We don’t like those clothes,’” she recalls. “I kept getting moved off set, changed, put back on stage, taken off again. I didn’t feel that I had any say in the matter, even if I had suggested something nicely. I was just a product at that point.”

Glee did not exactly help things. Agron says she was the last person cast for the show and describes getting the job as nothing short of fate. She grew up watching musicals with her mother in hotels on account of her father’s job as a manager at Hyatt. “Look, I moved to Los Angeles and I set out to find a musical. They were my absolute bread and butter. I told anybody that would listen to me, ‘I really want to do a musical,’” she says. “And [agents] were like, ‘No, try to be on Broadway.’ I just had this staunch faith that I was meant to be in Los Angeles and I would find a musical. And then it happened.”

But while she credits the show with changing her life, the show’s explosive popularity tested her boundaries. “There was a moment in time where there was not only a lack of acknowledgement in respect to personal space, there have been times where I've been put in a headlock and kissed on a plane. There have been times where mothers were grabbing you by the arm to meet and take a photo with their child,” Agron says. “There were so many personal attacks in a way that are just truly not what you do to a human. That feels specific to that time and that intensity of the feelings that people were feeling watching the show.”

So she moved to New York in 2016, eager to escape Los Angeles and its “predatory nature of people with lenses down there that just doesn’t exist in the same way in other places.” For a few years, she split her time between London — from 2016 to 2020, Agron was married to Winston Marshall of British folk-rock group Mumford & Sons — but now calls New York “my only home.” “Following my personal life is really not going to yield anything that interesting,” Agron says of public attention. And it’s true, the few times I tactfully (I hope) bring up topics that might lead Agron to open up about other aspects of her personal life, she gently deflects them. It’s clear she’s figured out a way to maintain her privacy while still being incredibly personal in the context of her work.

In New York, she’s able to follow her muse more freely. She’s reconnected with music through a string of residencies at the famed Café Carlyle, where she’s performed jazz standards and ‘60s covers. She served as a producer on Acidman and would like to do more behind-the-scenes work. And she’s relishing the chance to be a “waving the Jewish flag” kind of actor, choosing projects like Shiva Baby and As They Made Us that let her honor and explore her heritage. “I went to Jewish weekend school and Wednesday school for my entire upbringing up until my Bat Mitzvah and spent a lot of time with Holocaust survivors,” she says. “So it was a weird experience to then have many people say [in Hollywood], ‘You don’t look Jewish.’ It is weird to have somebody deny you your own personal experience.”

Next, she’ll make her return to television with The Chosen One, a multilingual adaptation of Mark Millar’s American Jesus comic book that follows a 12-year-old boy who gains the biblical powers of Jesus after a freak accident. She’s bonded with the younger actors on the show who have asked her for career advice — a full-circle moment for the now bonafide industry veteran. They’ve even watched Glee and marveled to Agron about how young she looks and seems. Her response? “I am!” she says, laughing.

By this point, our martini glasses have long been empty. Neither of us want to brave the train again, so Agron walks me up the street and, like a true New Yorker, gives me directions with a McNally Jackson tote slung over her shoulder. She gives me a hug, then turns to head deeper into Tribeca, forging a path all of her own.

#this could explain Taylor’s delayed tweet lol #Dianna Agron x photoshoot #dianna Agron x bustle 2023 #dianna Agron x fashion #swiftgron

[wheredafandomat]

Dr. Laufeyson

Chapter 1 ~ The Doctor will see you now

Warnings etc: Loki x female reader au where Lokis a therapist, therapy, swearing, mentions of past trauma later in the fic including abuse both physically and sexually - not explicit detail, 18+. PLEASE tell me if I ever leave anything out x

Next Chapter

You walked down the corridor, heels clicking against the tiled floor as you made your way towards the reception to check in for your appointment. Today you were seeing someone new. You had been to therapy previously where you mostly just spoke about your day and whatever you were currently up to, nothing groundbreaking. It was just nice to have someone impartial to talk to. Your friend Bucky had recommended this clinic saying that they had good therapists and members of staff including a hot receptionist he was yet to take on a date. You took the business card he offered and phoned in. After completing an online evaluation form, they paired you up with a therapist and today was going to be your first time meeting them.

You approached the desk, sighting a gorgeous red haired woman typing away. Glancing at her name badge, you realised that this was Natasha, the hot receptionist.

“Excuse me.” You spoke, getting her attention.

“Good afternoon, how can I help you today?” She smiled.

“Im here to see Dr La—lauf.” You stuttered, unsure how to pronounce the name.

“Dr Laufeyson.” She corrected politely, putting you out of your misery.

“That’s it.” You laughed awkwardly.

“Name please.”

“Y/n y/l/n.”

“Perfect, if you’d just like to take a seat for me, he’ll be with you in a moment.” She smiled widely. You thanked her before taking a seat.

Sitting down, you took in the view of the white walls decorated with minimalistic paintings. In the corner of the room, there was a fish tank that was teething with life from what you could see. You watched the fishes as they swam around, only knowing that tank as their home. You wondered how carefree they felt, how content. For them, life was swimming within the four glass walls that surrounded them. They were either satisfied or they felt restricted, you hoped for the earlier knowing the restraining feeling the latter felt like. The sound of your name being called pulled you from your trance as you glanced up, following the voice.

“Hi y/n.” The man greeted “I’m Dr Laufeyson, would you like to come with me.” He smiled, gesturing to the room he had just come out of. Standing up, you followed behind him as your eyes unapologetically ran up and down the back of him. He had black hair that was tied up into a bun, a white button up and tailored black trousers as well as polished leather shoes. As you walked into the room, he gestured for you to sit down before he took his own seat opposite you and you could finally properly see his face. Not only was he a sight to behold from the back but your breath almost hitched at how handsome he was. He pushed his glasses back up his nose as he smiled at you, crossing one leg over the other. “I thought that for todays session we’d just spend some time getting to know one another. Are you alright with that?”

“Yes.” You choked out, hoping you weren’t dribbling after you quickly fell into a daydream about him.

“Great. I’ll start.” He began, clearing his throat “I’m Dr Laufeyson, my first name is Loki and I like reading as well as winter sports.” He said with a small chuckle.

“Winter sports?” You giggled “that’s a first.”

“Really? You’ve never met anyone who was a fan of winter sports?” He asked, raising one of his brows as he continued to smile.

“Never.” You answered “so competitively or leisurely?”

“Sometimes competitively, mostly for fun. How about you?” He replied.

“I don’t like winter sports.”

“No I mean a hobby, what do you like?” He corrected.

“Well, I enjoy reading too and—” you stopped.

“And?” He prompted encouragingly after a few moments as if he generally cared and wasn’t being paid.

“Um, socialising with friends I guess.” You finished.

“Nice, relatable.” He grinned.

“Unlike winter sports.” You joked.

“Unlike winter sports.” He chuckled lowly.

The rest of the session went well. Talking to Loki was easy, it felt a lot easier than you thought it would be. Usually whenever you met a new therapist, they’d either bore you with talking about themselves which defeated the object or they’d keep glancing at the clock as you spoke. Loki was attentive, eager to listen, to learn. You found yourself feeling slightly flustered a few times under his intense gaze but as if he could read your mind, he’d quickly look away allowing you time to compose yourself. Perhaps he was used to women feeling ruffled under his stare.

When he got out a notebook, jotting down a number of a guy he knew who offered jet skiing excursions after you told him it was something you always wanted to try, you took the opportunity to glance at his hand. No rings. Very dexterous fingers. Somehow you felt less guilty about practically gawking at him for the past hour knowing that he didn’t have a wife waiting for him at home. He handed you the paper, his finger brushing against yours for a second which felt electrifying as if this was the first time anything other than your own hand had come into contact with it. You glanced up at him, stupidly wondering if he felt the same and almost gasped when his gaze was also on yours. Did he feel it too?

“Well, unfortunately that’s it for this week but would you like to come in again the same time next week? Then I can actually do my job as opposed to debating tolstoy vs dickens.” He snickered.

“In my opinion, Dickens is the clear winner.” You defended “and yes please.”

“Great, I’ll get you booked in with Natasha at reception and I’ll see you next week.” He exhaled before standing up and walking you to the door.

“Bye Dr Laufeyson.”

“When the hour is up, you can call me Loki.” He gifted, looking down at his watch with a simper. “Take care y/n.”

“Bye Loki.” You giggled before leaving and making your way home, feeling tons lighter than months of actual therapy with anyone else had ever made you feel.

Once you were home, you returned the call you had missed from Bucky whilst you were driving.

“Wassup.” He greeted.

“I saw the receptionist, you’re right she’s stunning.” You answered.

“Rightttt. One day I’m going to ask her out. Anyways how was it?”

“Sooo goood.” You squealed “Im with Dr Laufeyson, he’s so easy to talk to.”

“Tall one with the black hair and the glasses?” Bucky asked.

“Yess.” You answered, biting your lip.

“We call him eye candy.”

“We? Who’s we?” You snorted.

“Well one time I heard Natasha refer to him as that whilst I was standing at the reception so it was like she was talking to me.” Bucky explained.

“Right.”

“Well, I’m glad it went well.”

“Same.” You spoke truthfully after having seen therapists who you hadn’t got on with at all in the past “but I’ve just got in so I’ll call you back later Bucky.”

“Later doll.”

Something tells me this is already mildly inappropriate 😂 Already on a first name basis. Also is Tom wearing a blue Peter badge in that gif 😂😂 I always wanted one of those

#READ THE WARNINGS #loki x reader #tom hiddelston loki #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel) #oc fiction #loki fanfiction #loki au #doctor Loki #therapist loki #bucky x natasha #bucky x reader

[mistyfoxxy]

can you do a story about the day the baby girl was born

LABOR IN THE NIGHT, BORN IN THE MORNING.

"Hunter?" A voice of an absolute angel called him.

Hunter lazily turned in his sleep, too comfortable to even want to move. Allowing a small content smile to rest on his face as he hummed I response.

"Hunter." The voice of that angel stated again, this time a little stricter than the last.

"Hmmm?" He didn't know what had overcame him. Was he waking up from a deep sleep or something? He brought his hand up to his face, rubbing his eyes as his ear twitched to listen.

And all at once the jabbing pain of a stinger, the yelp from a small wolf palisman and a fierce call from that angel woke him up. "Hunter!"

Hunter shot up in bed and looked around. His heart- galderstone raced rapidly as fear overtook him and his defenses set in place. His wife stood at the entrance of the bathroom, leaning against the frame of the door. Panic in her eyes.

"The baby's coming!" She cried before letting out a sharp cry and stumbled a bit as she leaned over, grabbing her stomach.

Hunter teleported to her in an instance, slipping on some kind of fluid on the ground. "Ah!"

Willow grabbed him by his collar and jerked him upright before he hit the ground, pain and something fierce flashed in her eyes. "Get me to the hospital." She growled lowly.

Hunter nodded his head and grabbed her hand. Steadying himself and making sure he had his footing this time before scooping her up and quickly setting her on the bed.

"Rascal, clean that up please. Clover, go grab your mama's favorite snacks and put them in this bag please." Hunter handed the bee a bag he snatched out of the closet and threw a towel towards the wolf. He then grabbed a suitcase and started throwing Willow's most comfortable clothes that she had worn throughout her pregnancy and a few shirts and trousers of his. He could wear the same pants.

He then scrambled to find his crowphone and call Viney to get everything set up. "Oh titan, whered i put it!"

His wife let out a moan of pain before asking. "Where'd you put what? Did you lose the- ahhh!"

Rascal quickly jumped on the bed next to his mother and budded his head against her leg, letting out a small whine.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck" Hunter mumbled. "Willow I need to use your crowphone" He cried exasperated.

She nodded her head sharply before casting a spell, a crow then flew through the window.

Hunter snatched it up and quickly dialed the Drs number.

'ring... ring... rin- "Viney's Witch, Demon, and Beast clinic, how can i help?" The witch chirped.

"WILLOW IS HAVING THE BABY RIGHT NOW!"

.

.

Hunter winced at the sheer pain and literal cracking bones in his hands as Willow pushed. She had screamed out that he deserved this for getting her pregnant in the first place. He knew she was in pain, a lot of pain right now, so he wouldn't hold it against her.

Honestly, ever since she had gotten pregnant she had been a mix of things. Happy, giddy and nuzzling one second. Whining, crying and sobbing over mismatching napkins the next. Oh and of course, yelling and curing in the little Spanish she had learned (apparently she made sure to learn a list of bad words) and growling if he got two feet near her.

But he had loved every bit of it. From finding out she was pregnant to the many weird cravings, mixed up moods and rounding belly. The first kicks he felt when he'd placed his hands against her stomach. And of course all the rest of them when he talk to it, it was almost like it could understand him. The late night talks of what they wanted to name their child or how they would decorate it's room. It had been some of the most joyful moments in his life.

And they were almost here.

"Come on mama! Keep pushing, I can see her head!" Viney called cheerfully.

Willow whined and nodded her head before inhaling sharply and gritting her teeth. She closed her eyes as she pushed with all her might. Gripping Hunter's hand like it was made of thin air.

"AHHHH!" Hunter and Willow screamed in unison, Willow at the pain of childbirth, Hunter as she literally broke his hand.

And then there was silence.

Hunter and Willow shared a look before eyes latching on to the end of the bed.

"Is.. is it-"

"Waaaaahhhhh"

"You've got yourself a baby girl!" Viney exclaimed excitedly as she brought the baby towards them and laying her down in Willow's arms.

The little girl had the same dark hair as her mother, a fair complexion and round nose. "She's beautiful." Hunter stated breathlessly.

Willow nodded, hair a mess and glasses lopsided, tears peaked the edge of her eyes. "I love her so much, already. She's so beautiful" She laughed happily.

Hunter pulled Willow into a hug and kissed the babe on top of the head. "You did so good." He cried, tears now falling at the rush of love that took over his heart for both of them. Titan how was it possible to love someone this much and instantly fall in love with another this much???

"WE did good Hunter." She smiled up at him. Nothing but love shown, no, radiated through them. "I love you so much."

"I love you too" he smiled widely, holding his broken hand against his chest. Not even the great pain in it could ruin this moment for him. "And i love you, baby girl."

"Are we still going with the name we chose if it was a girl?"

"Yes. Welcome to the family, Winter Jacelyn Noceda-Park."

The small baby slowly opened one of its eyes and looked around. Lovely grey eyes were the reason for her life long nickname; Moon.

#huntlow #huntlow baby au #Oneshot #continuation of Morning Sickness #prompts #huntlow oneshot #willow park #hunter noceda

[nicetrynicetry]

132

A beautiful occurrence on the train to my psychiatrist's office. A 60 year old man sitting opposite me in the carriage begins staring at my face, then my body (how or why we have no idea - I am wearing an oversized sweater vest and a man’s shirt). I look up briefly to check if he’s still staring, and he smiles widely. I make sure not to smile back. A man standing between us in the aisle notices the dynamic, and reader, he deliberately blocks the sitting man’s gaze with his giant bag. God bless him. Two stops later there is a mass exodus, and I have a woman’s camel toe in my sight line

I have not been to the building my psychiatrist works out of in almost 3 years, haven’t even stepped foot in its fancy vicinity. It’s the same, perhaps a little more extreme. Wealthy Arab friends who appear to despise each other move from Harvey Nichols into idling cabs after shopping indifferently. It has always been impossible to discern which of the dozens of famished women circling the neighbourhood are receiving care in the therapy building I go to, or if their minuscule frames (usually narrow white Chanel trousers desperately belted in place) are going unaddressed. “Is she anorexic or is she just from SW3?”

The hotspot is, as it was in 2019, the Raw Press juice and health food cafe one street over from the therapy building. There are almost never seats available, either because every other surface is overloaded with shopping bags, or because the frail women sipping matcha or eating overnight oats alone are given to glaring at potential table mates. There are always at least two Americans talking loudly, relaying gossip that goes off on 58 tangents. One usually insinuates that the other is fat. There are no men. It is wise to place eating disorder treatment here, in a mountain-coming-to-Mohammed way. While I went for therapy religiously for many years, I rarely wanted to. I did so to keep my mother from worrying. There is the treatment I received against my will as a child via the NHS and there is the treatment I received via light to moderate emotional blackmail as I became a young adult once the NHS ran out of money. I am not saying I didn’t need all of the above, no no no. I was very very sick. And when I buzz into the building and see the toilet I threw up in / ran on the spot in for 7 years, the same hand soap, the same extraction fan, I remember it all so well. I remember seeing Helena Bonham-Carter be collected from the waiting room because they also do osteopathy here. She would complain about her knees while wearing the least sensible shoes you’ve ever seen. Now I am collected from the waiting room myself by Dr K, who oversaw every minute of my 20s in her beige chair and in her notes. “How on earth are you?”, she asks, smiling. “I am 31”, I say. We laugh. I attempt to hit all the key points of the last 26 months, good and bad. She is proud of me. I bristle, and make sure she heard that I still can’t always feed myself. No I heard, she says, but I’ve seen where you’ve been. I try to remember whether she was always so positive, if that’s just her clinical style. I recall she sent me to rehab. She’s the reason I couldn’t get good life insurance because she was one of three doctors to tell me to stop drinking. I tell her I have little to no libido, and she says that doesn’t surprise her because I am on a very high dose of SSRIs. She suggests I begin to taper, and see how I feel. Tells me to snap every third pill in half and write her in a week. “It sounds like you’re having new experiences”, she says. I am. “But that only puts me at the adventurousness level of the average 18 year old”, I say, glumly. I lost so many years. And I guess the amount of years I lose from now on is entirely my decision. On the plus side, the idiot doctor accidentally revealing my weight to me in December means that I don’t need to be weighed

The word stability is thrown around a lot during the hour. I think my therapist would call it “being stuck”, but every professional will confuse you with their own hot takes. It’s worse when there are 5 or 6 clamouring voices, but thankfully I only have two. What do we call a life that is lightyears better than what it once was but also lightyears from what it could be had it not been what it once was? A plateau. A rut. Or something darker, more akin to what people mean when they say functional alcoholism. A chronic condition. Not to go for full recovery is a choice. I snapped when my therapist said this on Monday, because it feels so passive. She gives me the option every week of staying where I am, and the way she phrases it sounds like she’s sending me to a hospice. “We’ll make you as comfortable as possible” type of thing. I think she knows this cuts me up, and she wields it. Selflessly putting herself out of a job. A Reductress Instagram post from a few months ago says “‘You Should Confront Her’, Says Bored Therapist Who Lives For Drama”. I am happy to report I have never had this kind of therapist. I did once look into EMDR with a man who lived in an art deco apartment in Farringdon whose first question was how quickly I climax when I masturbate. But overall the problem is me, the client, the overgrown teenager. Also, if the EMDR man eventually reads this, about 25 minutes

I take a deliberately long train route home, changing at stations and enjoying being in transit. Nothing waits for me at home, no music I am moved to make, just the rubber grip mats that A bought me to stop my rugs from slipping. The package came to my house in his name, and I wondered for a second whether he had begun to feel so at home that he was getting soundproofing material delivered here. My love language is not gift-giving but it’s a good gift. I like practical gifts, which is why I’m bad at gift-giving. I get home in the early evening and text C to ask if he’ll show me how to put air in my car tires again at the weekend. I look at E’s drawing. The Korean museum send a piece of furniture they made for my show, a conversation chair in smooth dark wood and metal. It is bigger than I remember, and I leave it in my spare room near a dehumidifier. I cut some Zoloft pills in half so I don’t forget. I feel bad for A already, receiving a mixture of tearful and horny messages when I begin to feel withdrawal effects. Am I worth it?

[lasercosmesis]

How Can a Mommy Makeover Improve My Body Shape?

Women in the twenty-first century do not have to endure like past generations did. Childbirth does not have to leave them in the dust and disrupt their everyday lives. They can put on their old clothing and show off their taut and fit bodies with the life changing Mommy Makeover Surgery.

The term mommy makeover refers to specialized body sculpting treatments performed simultaneously to correct the physical alterations that occur long after pregnancy. One reason for its appeal is that the mommy makeover has no fixed components; each operation is tailored to the specific demands of the individual patient. The surgical technique, on the other hand, often begins with a breast and abdominal shaping treatment, followed by the addition of other parts as needed. Mommy Makeover Surgery Cost in Thane is pretty reasonable and one can get it done at Laser Cosmosis clinic with a famous female plastic surgeon Dr. Medha Bhave.

Types of Mommy Makeover Procedures

A mommy makeover may comprise numerous treatments, but it will be individualized to you depending on your problem areas and desired objectives.

Breast Surgery

Breast augmentation: This is a popular operation among moms because it recovers decreased breast volume, makes the breasts symmetrical, and improves your form.

Breast lift: A breast lift is a procedure that may be done alone or in conjunction with breast augmentation to produce tremendous cleavage and reposition the breasts to give them a lifted and young appearance. If you are satisfied with the size of your breasts, a breast lift without augmentation may be an option for you.

Breast reduction: Pregnancy can cause additional breast skin and weight in certain women. Breast enlargement can create discomfort and self-consciousness, but a breast reduction operation can return you to your pre-pregnancy breast size.

Body Contouring

Tummy tuck: A tummy tuck can correct a bulging belly or drooping skin around the abdomen caused by pregnancy. The doctor will remove excess skin and fat from the belly and abdominal muscles that were strained or split during pregnancy. Stretch marks can be erased if they are on the skin that will be removed. As a consequence, your stomach will be flatter, firmer, and toned.

Liposuction: This procedure is performed to remove excess fat from troublesome regions. To obtain a perfect body shape, this operation can be done with a tummy tuck. The surgeon performs liposuction by making small incisions at troublesome areas to remove extra fat deposits. Dissolving sutures are used to seal the incisions.

Pregnancy may have an impact on more than just your belly and breasts, and undesirable changes to your face, tummy, and thighs. Among the surgical possibilities are:

Facial plastic surgery: Weight gain during pregnancy, stress, and a lack of sleep can all result in unpleasant changes to your face. It can rejuvenate your appearance with facial plastic surgery operations such as browlifts, face lifts, neck lifts, and eyelid surgeries.

Thigh Lift: Excess skin or fat in the thigh area as a result of pregnancy-related weight gain can be unsightly and induce self-consciousness. A thigh lift can remove extra skin and fat from the thighs, slimming them and allowing you to fit back into your pre-pregnancy trousers.

Benefits of Undergoing Mommy Makeover Surgery

Your skin, tissue, and abdominal muscles expand to accommodate the growing baby throughout pregnancy. While diet and exercise can assist you in losing excess weight after delivery, your skin and tissue may not recover. Furthermore, nursing alters the breasts in ways that exercise cannot reverse. This is why mommy makeovers are so popular: they enhance the parts of the body that are resistant to exercise.

Because a mommy makeover allows you to address numerous areas with a single procedure, you will only be sedated once and will only have one recovery time. You'll love less downtime whether you're a working or stay-at-home mum!

The significant advantage of a mommy makeover is an increase in self-esteem. Many women struggle with the changes brought on by pregnancy and nursing. While food and exercise may surely assist you in losing the "baby weight," there are several areas to consider. A mommy makeover can enhance the appearance of these areas and help you look and feel like your pre-baby self if you have loose skin, drooping breasts, or persistent fat deposits.

If loose skin or extended labia bothers you, as they do for most women, you may tailor your mommy makeover to include procedures that address these concerns, making you feel more at ease in your own skin - literally and metaphorically.

Note:

It is critical to understand that a mommy makeover is not a weight reduction procedure and cannot guarantee the removal of stretch marks. If you are concerned about stretch marks, speak with your doctor during your visit.

One can consult with Dr. Medha Bhave, Best Plastic Surgeon in Thane, practicing at the Laser Cosmesis Clinic and is known for performing mommy makeover surgery. She customize the mommy makeover surgery based on one’s needs and body type.

Book an appointment now with her for more details!

Original Source:- https://bestplasticsurgeoninmumbai.mystrikingly.com/blog/how-can-a-mommy-makeover-improve-my-body-shape

#Mommy Makeover #Mommy Makeover surgery #Mommy Makeover Improve Body Shape #Types of Mommy Makeover #Mommy Makeover Procedures #Benefits Mommy Makeover Surgery #Best Plastic Surgeon in Thane #lasercosmesis clinic

[best-sexologist-in-patna]

Well-vouched Sexologist Doctors for Male Sexual Problems in Patna – Dr. Sunil Dubey

Are you a teenager?

This is a nightfall that makes you weak and worried. Every morning, when you get up, your trousers is drenched with semen. Due to fear, you hide it quickly.

Today, you are more worried because your final examination is to come and this sexual disorder is not leaving you. You want to get treatment by which both your health and future come onto the right track.

You are afraid of allopathic medicines because you have read about its side-effects. You want to consult with the best sexologist doctor in Ayurveda Medicare. That’s why; you are seeking for their phone numbers.

If you live in India, then Dubey Clinic will be your best choice, because this clinic provides the best sexologist in Patna. This is the world-famous and highly demandable Ayurvedacharya Dr. Sunil Dubey who has been providing his service for sexual patients for more than 25 years. He is available on-phone and in-clinic for these sexual patients.

Many patients from Patna, Bihar, and other cities visit Dubey Clinic for their better sexual health. This clinic provides completely Ayurvedic Medicines that has no any side-effect on body. The medicine of Dubey Clinic is quality-approved and 100% effective for male sexual patients. Apart from male sexual problems, he provides this medication to the female sexual patients.

Don’t hesitate. Just take your appointment with Dubey Clinic. It is a guarantee that your nightfall sexual disorder will be improved within a few days.

With Best Wishes:

Dubey Clinic

(An ISO Certified Clinic in India)

Dr. Sunil Dubey, Gold Medalist Sexologist

B.A.M.S (Ranchi) | M.R.H.S (London) | Ph.D. in Ayurveda (USA)

Awarded with Bihar Ratna by By Padma Shri Dr. C. P. Thakur, Rajya Sabha MP and former Union Health Minister

Helpline No: [phone]; [phone]

Consultation for: Male & Female Chronic Sexual Dysfunction, Skin, Stomach, & All kinds of Disease etc.

Venue: Dubey Market, Dubey Nursing Home, Langar Toli Chauraha, Patna-800004

Doctor Appointment: 08:00-20:00

Web info: https://ayurvedacharyadrsunildubey.com/

Social Media Links:

Blogger: https://bestsexologistinpatna1.blogspot.com/

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Re1R9j-xwLY

Twitter: https://twitter.com/DubeyClinic

FB: https://www.facebook.com/DubeyClinicPatna/

Insta: https://www.instagram.com/dubeyclinicpatna/

Pinterest: https://in.pinterest.com/sexologistpatna/

Youtube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/@DubeyClinic

#dubeyclinic #drsunildubey #bihar #patna #sexologist #guptrog #india #bestsexologist #health #ayurveda #healthcare #ayurvedacharya #medical #ayurvedicmedicine #sexuallife #healthcareprofessionals

[graystreet003]

Disco days Dr. Trousers

Click here to see it in full resolution

Two close ups to compensate for the quality loss on the entire image

#dr trousers #Dr Trousers Clinic #DTC #Disco Dr Trousers #80s #disco

[thelifeoflorna]

~30/9/2022~ I didn’t feel as fatigued as I was expecting to this morning. Things felt a little bit out of sync as H was doing a longer shift to make up for hours yesterday. We did the washing, then went to the pharmacy to collect some owed medication. Things felt okay with H to begin with - we had a nice chat. We went to Tilgate Park for lunch and a walk. Then went into Crawley town centre to go to Primark - the town centre was weirdly very busy, which I wasn’t expecting - couldn’t get a blue badge space in the carpark, Primark decided the put their heating on so it was hot in there. It was all a bit too jumbled for me to have a proper look, but picked up a new hot water bottle and some summer floaty trousers in the sale. However, I started to find H challenging - I think the issue is that in busy and loud environments when I become over stimulated and need her to be calm, she seems to become louder and more animated/frantic - hitting me with questions, decisions, things that feel like demands, and it makes me more overloaded. We went in sports direct briefly and I’m now set on the trainers I want to get to replace my beloved Nikes, but going to order them online so I can use a voucher I’ve got from taking part in a research study. Early on the journey home in the car when I was still recovering from the shopping trip, I received a call from a private number - I answered it because it’s usually medical related, but it ended up really throwing me - it probably didn’t help that I couldn’t hear very well as didn’t have head set in. It was someone from the admin team at work - they were offering me an appointment for my ADHD assessment for early November, but I was quite confused as they made no mention of the staff clinic, which was the route I was supposed to be receiving the appointment through. I had also originally been told by my line manager that they were going to arrange for me to see the female dr from the team with my line manager (who is a nurse consultant), I was also told it was unlikely an appointment would come up anytime soon - the admin person is new to the team, so I’m wondering whether I’ve even been given the right appointment (continued..) (at Faygate, West Sussex, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/CjJRSJGKM9h-Hkeaj3D3tcBUrCRP38gly0di3s0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ghoulishpencil]

He caught up to Dr. Marcadet as he finished his last visit for the day, Cassian huffing as he carried the heavy bag he’d been left in charge off. His father smiled at him, eyes twinkling mischievously. “Took you a minute to catch up. Had a good chat with Mr. Spencer?” 

“Definitely has some interesting stories,” Cassian agreed. “Called me a girl the whole time.” He fell in step with his father, as they passed by the general store while they lit their gas lamps and candles against the night. 

“You didn’t correct him?” Cassian shrugged, reaching up to touch his braid idly. “I suppose there’s less questions if he thinks you’re a girl.” 

“The one nice thing about Navia is no one questions why a girl might where trousers,” Cassian said quietly, He glanced as his father, noticing the way the deepening gloom highlighted the wrinkles and scars on his face. He looked tired in this light. “Are you enjoying the change?”

“Well, I’m not used to the commute. It’s not as hilly as Bristol; I’ll give it that. The air is better too for my poor lungs.” He inhaled deeply, letting it out in a sigh. “Yes, I rather like it here. If only you and Holly could adjust.” 

Cassian tried not to grimace, walking in silence awhile longer. Relative silence. The sounds of insects started their rounds, the creaking of crickets and whirring of cicadas filling the role of cars and people and horses. 

“I might stop by the Meier’s tomorrow,” he said, feeling a little slimy for lying. “I want to see how Finley is doing.” 

“Finley? Oh, right their boy. All right, I won’t drag you out with me at the crack of dawn this time. Could’ve used your help though. I’m starting a vaccination clinic in the store, and it’s an all hands on deck situation,” 

“A… well. Sorry.” His brow creased. Vaccination clinic? Hadn’t he mentioned that before? If the time anomaly was making people go through the same steps in a week, were people being overvaccinated? Could that lead to illness?

And why was it he remembered the start of the clinic from weeks ago but Dr. Marcadet didn’t? Why was he the only one not affected? 

Cassian was still puzzling over that while Dr. Marcadet chattered about cowpox and labor and all sorts of things that didn’t really interest him, trying to work out when exactly the doctor had fallen into the same weeklong routine. He couldn’t remember. He hadn’t paid attention, too absorbed in his own work with Finley and — 

Finley! He hadn’t been affected by the anomaly either! If he had, he wouldn’t have come over and done all sorts of different things with him. His heart soared before promptly sinking again. Finley would be upset with him after avoiding the situation for so long. Could they work past… that now, or would it be all for not?

Well. He had already said he was going over. At least now it wouldn’t be such a lie.

#writers of tumblr #writeblr #writing snippet #original story #tumblr story #story #fic #romance #paranormal romance #fantasy romance #Edwardian romance #queer romance #queer characters #aromantic character #transgender character #gay character #beauty and the beast #unplucked #creative writing #fiction writing #story writing #original writing

[wondersofdreaming]

Sex on Fire

Co-written with @radaofrivia​

Characters: AU Captain Syverson - Gynaecologist, dr. Syverson x female reader

Word count: 4.522

Warnings: NSFW! Smut, so smutty. Gamahuche. Licking. Bodily liquids. Fingering. Sucking. Hair pulling. Begging. And I’m out of whatever else there is, but I’m sure there’s more - let me know and I’ll add them XD

Author’s note: This story was co-written with the always gorgeous and incredible @radaofrivia​! She is the Brain to my Pinky! The Barney Rubble to my Fred Flinstone! My goddess Saga and my muse Erato! My drinking buddy and who will stay up till 4am with me to finish this story.

Please go enjoy her stories here:

Rada’s Masterlist

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the reader who is a figment of my imagination.

*Edit: The title was decided before I realised that it is a song by Kings of Leon. These two have nothing in common except for the title.

MY MASTERLIST

Sex on Fire Masterlist

Feedback is appreciated.

(Credit to original gif owner - if this is yours please contact me so I can give you proper credit)

The grey concrete building stood tall in front of you. You leaned your head back to see the top, but it was nearly impossible. All you could see were windows leading into the sky. A doorman in a black uniform stood by the entrance, watching whoever went in and out. He nodded his head with a stoic look in a greeting.

The lobby looked more welcoming than the outside building. There was a fireplace with three sofas surrounding it and a coffee table stacked with magazines. A few women were already sitting there, gossiping about the new dapper doctor that had rented the entire top floor.

You rolled your eyes and went over to the reception. A man stood to greet you with a smile, but he was talking to someone in his headset, which only took a few seconds before he hung up.

“I am sorry about that, how may I help you, miss?” he asked.

“I’m here for an appointment with dr. Syverson,” you said a little nervously.

“Ah, yes. I have a form you need to fill out,” he handed you a piece of paper and a pen, “The elevators are just right over there. Take it all the way to the 52nd floor. Another receptionist will be there to guide you further.”

You accepted the paper and went for the elevators. A chill went down your spine as the cold air from the air condition hit you. You pressed the button for dr. Syverson’s floor. An orchestral song started playing over the speakers. It wasn’t until you listened closely to the lyrics that you noticed it was ‘Nothing Else Matters’ by Metallica.

You closed your eyes, swaying to the beat of the soft drums. Lars Ulrich had been your celebrity crush as a teen, and you still listened to their older songs when you had a bad day.

The elevator doors opened with a loud ‘ding!’, pulling you out of your trance. Another receptionist stood at the opposite side. She looked up from the computer and smiled.

“Welcome to dr. Syverson’s clinic. Do you need help filling out the paper?” she asked nicely. You quickly scanned what you needed to scribble down. It was mostly your personal information and history of health.

“No, I think I can manage, thank you,” you smiled back.

“You can take a seat in the sofas, and when you’re done just fold it and put it in the mailbox, dr. Syverson will call you in, shortly,” she motioned to a black mailbox by the elevators that you had missed when walking past it.

You nodded and went for the sofas. The room was warm and comfortable with green plants everywhere. The sand-coloured leather sofas were softer than you expected as you sank down. You filled out the form and put it in the box.

Instead of sitting back down, you decided to walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and take a look at the impressive view of the city. Your eyes widened at how far you could see, all the way to the ocean, and if you squinted your eyes, you might have been able to see your apartment building, even the bar you had often been frequenting lately.

Dr. Syverson walked out of his office. He stretched his arms above his head, feeling a bit sore from having sat down reading his patients’ charts all afternoon. Now he just needed to check on his last appointment, before he could go home and enjoy an ice-cold beer.

His receptionist was packing her stuff, sending him a kind smile. The perks of working with his sister were that she didn’t try to seduce him, or leave her underwear in his white coat pocket like some of his patients tended to do.

He smiled back and looked around the room. His gaze landing on you. His first thoughts were not ‘oh there’s my patient’, no, his mind went straight to ‘YOWZA!’.

“Last patient for today, Luc. I’ll be leaving now, see you tomorrow,” he heard his sister say to him. She smacked his arm to get his attention. He was pulled back to reality, saying goodbye to her before walking towards you, changing his mindset from dirty to professional.

You gasped when a flock of seagulls flew by, making you take a step back and hit a wall. Except the wall had arms that grabbed your shoulders before you hit the floor.

“Whoah, careful there, miss,” a deep rough voice said. You looked up and saw a man with a trimmed beard, a soft smile on his lips, and a mischievous look in his cerulean eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out. You quickly remove yourself from his arms, first now noticing that he was wearing the white coat signalling he was dr. Syverson. And if that didn’t kick your brain in gear, then the name tag on his chest should do it. Dr. Lucas P. Syverson.

“It’s all good. This way, please,” he made sure you followed him to his office. The wall colour changed to a more soothing beige colour and was adorned with colourful paintings. You didn’t notice what they depicted before you stepped closer to one. It was of naked human bodies in various forms and shapes, very fitting for a gynaecologist’s office.

He had various books about his profession, but a few stood out to you. One had a peach on the cover and was written by dr. Syverson himself. You were impressed but wondered about the peach until you saw the title that made you blush deeply.

“How to eat a peach for dummies.”

He motioned for you to sit in the armchair, while he plopped down on the opposite one. He grabbed a chart from his desk and a pen.

“I’ve had a look at your medical history, and the…” Dr. Syverson looked down on the chart, “three gynaecologists that you have been referred to have written that you are in a state of good health. Well, we’ll see about that, I’m not too keen on some of these doctors you’ve had appointments with. They’re as old as Methuselah.”

You let out a peal of laughter. The joke having put you at ease with the doctor, who was smiling as you calmed down from your fit of giggles.

You were a little bit shocked by this doctor. Dr. Syverson was nothing like how you had imagined him. He couldn’t be over 40, with the extended educational schooling he would have had to go through. You remembered having read somewhere that it took at least 12 years to become a gynaecologist.

“Oh my gosh, they were. Another thing they had in common was that they would take a “quick” peek, not caring that I was screaming in pain, and then tell me that I’m healthy as a horse.”

Dr. Syverson sat back; his brow pushed together. You could practically hear the gears turning behind his forehead. He ran a hand through his beard, which made you notice that he wasn’t wearing a ring. If he wasn’t your doctor, you might have asked him on a date. Had you only met him at a bar instead of his office, and not being his patient. Damn it.

“There is definitely an issue we need to figure out here. I want you to know, miss that I plan on solving this mystery. Please, tell me in your own words what you think is wrong?”

You opened your mouth to explain, but all the sentences you thought of were too embarrassing to say out loud.

“Miss, you can say anything here. Nothing leaves these four walls, I promise you,” dr. Syverson tried to make you feel more comfortable with him with his gorgeous smile. His presence alone was putting you at ease. How did he do it?

“It burns when I’m penetrated,” you confessed.

“Penetrated how? During intercourse or masturbation?”

“I haven’t had sex since this happened. I can barely stuff two fingers in there,” you blurted, turning tomato red, confessing something so private to a total stranger, but it felt great to finally say it out loud, like a heavy stone being lifted from your shoulders.

“How about I take a look? Let me see with my own eyes that you’re ‘healthy as a horse’,” he quoted the old men, making you giggle. “You can leave your trousers and underwear on the bench, and have a seat on the table. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The dashing doctor left the room while you removed your clothing. Feeling a little self-conscious, as you walked over to the gynaecologist table with the stirrups and sat between them, trying to cover your private parts with your shirt.

Dr. Syverson came back soon with a variety of scented candles in his arms.

“The smell of something nice usually helps my patients to relax a little,” he explained. He held them up for you to choose.

“This one,” you smiled and handed him the one called Ocean Mist.

“Nice choice, that one is my favourite,” the doctor grinned. He set the lit candle on his desk. The scent of a sandy beach and salty ocean soon filled the room. The doctor pulled the ultrasound machine towards you. You leaned back on the table inhaling deeply, willing your abdominal muscles to relax. The sounds of a guitar reached your ears. You watched as he set a portable speaker on the small table next to you.

“I hope you don’t mind a little music,” he said, smiling, while he put on a pair of bright orange gloves.

“I love Metallica, so please keep it flowing.”

“Can you guess the song I’m playing? Put your legs up here for me,” he patted the stirrups.

You lifted your legs, intensely listening to the instrumental version of the song.

“Is it ‘The Unforgiven’?” you asked.

“Correct, you’re good. This is going to be a little bit cold,” he squirted a large amount of gel on the ultrasound wand. He slowly inserted the rod inside you, pushing ever so gently. “How long have you listened to Metallica?”

You winced at the invasion but tried to keep your muscles from tightening around the smooth object. You didn’t see the set jaw on the gorgeous looking doctor. Your sweet scent was tickling his nose and making his mouth salivate by the thought of tasting you.

“Since I was a teenager. I’ve been to at least one concert per tour they’ve done,” you groaned in pain.

“I’m sorry, your right ovary is a little difficult to find. You’re doing great. Your left ovary is the epitome of health. Are you on any kind of birth control?” he asked casually, trying his best to make you feel safe around him.

“N… no… I…” your voice broke, and tears started streaming down your cheeks. Doctor Lucas quickly removed the wand, cleaned it and sat down next to you.

“It’s okay. Let it all out,” he told you softly. Concern for your well being was painted on his chiselled face.

“It’s just that… I haven’t had sex for years, YEARS doc. No man wants a broken woman, especially not a woman that cannot be penetrated without her screaming in pain.”

You babbled so much you forgot that you were in a gynaecologist’s office and not at a psychologist.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to blurt all that out,” you started to blush a crimson red.

Lucas fought hard not to pull you into his arms. His protective instincts were on high alert; he wanted to make you feel safe, make you feel loved. He was cursing the bastards who had hurt you. To him, women were the stronger sex, had to endure more pain than men. Women are precious, made to birth life, made to give love and be loved.

“It’s quite alright. You’ve had a rough time,” he patted your arm, the safest place to touch you and went to get up. “I’m going to feel around to see if there’s something I’ve missed with the ultrasound. What other bands do you listen to?”

You watched as doctor Syverson slapped on another pair of gloves and squirted a smaller amount of gel on his finger, on his long thick finger. You were practically drooling by watching him prepare to examine you.

“Eh… I listen to a little bit of everything,” you said. You laid back down and draped an arm over your eyes. Watching the handsome doctor working was becoming too much for you. He was stirring feelings inside you that you hadn’t felt in a long time, and not in this form or quantity. You had taken a look at his well-proportioned ass when he walked out earlier, and his black trousers did very little to hide his hefty package.

“I’m sorry, but, again, this is going to be a little cold. What was the last song you listened to?” he warned.

It was an erotic scene, watching him standing between your legs, one hand on your belly, while the other was about to enter your most sacred place. You felt him enter. A soft moan escaped your lips.

Lucas’ ears perked. He hadn’t expected to hear that sound coming from your full lips. Had he heard correctly? The little vibration from you sent a jolt straight to the beast he was trying to keep dormant. This wasn’t the first time a woman had moaned while he examined them, but you were different. Another sweet sound reached his ears. You were so responsive to his touch, so open, so reactive. His mind was racing, but one word kept popping up, more.

You had forgotten how to speak, how to form sentences, how to communicate. You could only feel.

“Miss?”

“Hmm?”

“The last song? You listened to,” he didn’t mean to sound so tense, but he had to distract himself, his treacherous mind, he needed to keep the small-talk going, to break the silence. He wanted to kick himself in the balls for thinking about you, while he was fingers deep inside you. His compassionate instinct was winning over his lust.

Stop it, Lucas! You’re a professional. You cannot mess up! You CAN NOT fuck this up! She needs your help. Lord, give me strength.

“Oh...” you murmured, coming back from whatever universe he had sent you to with his finger technique, “Ehm, before the Metallica song in the elevator, I listened to ‘What’s Your Country Song’ by Thomas Rhett.”

“That’s a great song. I like country music.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed you as a country kinda g… GOD!!!” you gasped as he curled his finger, touching the spot.

You released a louder sinful sound, a sound that hadn’t left your lips in a very long time. Lucas watched as your chest was heaving, gasping for air. The room was suddenly suffocating him. He felt like he was burning up from the inside. His breath was hitched, and he couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Why did you have to sound like desire itself?

“Does it hurt when I do this?” he asked, his voice lowering an octave and reduced to a velvety whisper. He hooked his finger once more, listening intensely to the sounds escaping you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your eyes rolled back in your head. You lifted your hips, moving your pelvis closer, needing more friction, needing to feel him deeper inside you.

Fuck!

He was watching you, vehemently. A fire was burning deep in his groin, heck even his eyes were flaming. His shoulders moved fastly up and down as he was heaving in the air through his parted lips, he needed oxygen, he needed to control himself. He was scolding himself for feeling like a horny teenager.

“This is… wrong,” he said in a panic. He moved his hand away from you. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist in a fierce grip.

“Please…” you begged, “please don’t stop. I… I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Please, Lucas… I need you… I need you to finish this.”

He could hear the need in your voice. He could smell your arousal. You were clawing your nails into his skin. The look in your eyes was clear that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. The same eyes were shining with unshed tears, begging him for release, and the sound of his name from your lips was making him so close to breaking his resolve.

“I… can’t… you’re my patient,” he groaned, his forehead showing the concerned lines of wrinkles, which made him look even more desirable.

“Can’t you make an exception? Just this once? Please...”

Lucas ran a gloved hand through his short-cropped hair. He turned away from you, needing support for his shaky legs he leaned against the back of his office chair. He was thinking about it, really thinking about it.

“Please, doll. Don’t test me. I’m standing on the edge, and I’m this close to jumping in with both feet. I can lose my career, and I don’t want you to regret this tomorrow.”

You watched as his shoulders sank. You moved off the examination table, pulling the hem of your shirt down to try to cover your nakedness.

“I’m sorry, dr. Syverson. I… I didn’t mean to put you in such a precarious situation,” your voice was small. Your gaze firmly on the wooden floor beneath your feet, you felt so ashamed to have tried to seduce your gynaecologist, who was only trying to help you. Lucas turned around to the sound of your voice breaking, and a little saddened that you started calling him his title again. Your cheeks flushed, your arms wrapped around yourself. You gathered the courage to move towards your clothes.

“Damn it!” he cursed. He moved towards you with the speed of lightning before you could take a single step. His large muscular frame wrapped around you, your head was laying on his chest, listening to the racing of his heartbeat.

“Say ‘you’re fired’,” he ordered, his voice husky and commanding like some kind of army captain, but it was also desperate. Desperate for you not to leave him. Craving your touch. Desiring, longing, yearning, lusting for you. 

Your eyes widened in shock as you processed his words. He heard you gasp as you realised what he was saying.

“Dr. Syverson… you’re fired,” you whispered seductively, although a little shaky too. You watched as the sweet and calm doctor changed before your very eyes.

He clashed his lips with yours in a hungry kiss. He was starving; his only thought was to taste you that was his only goal. Your scent had been making him insane; famished was more correctly described.

While holding you in his arms, he made you move backwards until your bum found the end of the exam table.

His kisses were desperate, and so were you. Your heart felt as if it was about to beat out of your chest. Your breathing was shallow. It was going to happen; it was really going to happen.

He lifted you up and made you sit on the exam table. He parted your legs and went to stand between them. He cupped your face between his warm palms, leaning down to kiss you again. He kissed your jaw and all the way to the shell of your ear.

“Please, don’t regret this,” he whispered and went to touch his forehead against yours.

“I want it, even more than you do,” you answered breathlessly.

With your consent, there was no turning back now.

He devoured your mouth while his hands roamed all over your body. He unbuttoned your blouse while you shoved his white coat to the floor. You pulled at his button-up, buttons were flying everywhere. He shoved your shirt down your shoulders and off your arms before he threw it somewhere behind him. You ran your hands up and down his hairy chest, wanting to feel all of him, not the doctor, but the fine specimen of a man that he was.

He removed your bra with a flick of his fingers. Slowly revealing your breast to him. Your nipples two hard buds, waiting for his mouth to suck, lick, bite, whatever he wanted to do.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered. His voice was desperate, so filled with lust, but also something oh so sweet.

Lucas moved his lips down your collar bone. Feasting on your breast, nibbling at your skin, before he finally went to town with your nipples. With the first touch of his tongue on your left breast, while he pinched the right, you let out a loud guttural sound. Just him playing with your bosom was about to send you over the edge. The coil in your belly was so close to snapping.

“More… Please, Lucas, more,” you whimpered, pushing his head to the place where you needed his mouth the most, right between your thighs.

You heard him chuckle. He gently pushed you down, making sure you were comfortable before he hooked your legs over his shoulders for better access to your glistening desire.

“Fuck…” you mewled. The sight of the mountain man between your legs, the growing bulge in his dark trousers was so erotic you were about to combust. Your sex was on fire.

“Your body is divine, bug. It was made to be worshipped. I want to make the pain go away,” he said softly.

You didn’t get to say a word as his tongue ran along the seam of your wetness, making you shutter from the first contact. His tongue was wide and long, his mouth blowing hot air as he sucked your lower lips gently.

That tongue of his was everywhere, inside you, lavishing you, adoring every centimetre of your flushed skin. You lifted your head to watch him working you into a frenzy, right as he sucked his index finger into his mouth, coating the digit with his saliva.

The pleasure that he was giving you was overwhelming. The moment he pushed his finger inside your womanhood, was like nothing you had felt before. His finger was warm, and it was a whole different feeling than when he was gloved. His tongue darted out to play with the glistening pearl hiding between your lips, sucking in his finger. Your wetness allowed his movements to be smooth and easy, in and out, and he found that spot that made you howl in ecstasy.

“Luc… I’m… I’m so close… FUCK!”

The coil broke, snatched, ripped apart. You weren’t pushed over the edge, you were shoved, hard, and the pleasuring waves kept coming and coming. It felt as if your orgasm was never-ending. You never wanted to come down from that high. It was addictive.

You released your hold of Sy’s head from your thighs, not having noticed you had trapped him. You were panting hard, trying to catch your breath after the tsunami of an orgasm the doctor had given you.

Lucas’ palm covered your cheek, wiping the tears that had fallen from your eyes.

“Did I hurt you, doll?” his face scrunched in concern.

You shook your head, no.

“No… that was the most amazing thing I’ve ever experienced.”

The smile on Lucas’ face was breathtaking. He was beaming with pride. You watched as he leaned back, noticing he was still wearing his trousers. The apparent bulge in his abdominal area looked painful.

You moved to sit up, motioning for him to stand.

“I want to return the favour,” you told him, unzipping his trousers. You were gentle, as the tent grew more extensive, the more you released his manhood from its confinement. You helped him out of his black boxer briefs and came face to face with the finest cock you had ever laid eyes on. You were drooling, licking your lips, dying to taste him.

“You don’t have to, angel,” he groaned as your tongue darted out to taste the precum leaking from the tip, hearing him growl, a sound coming from deep inside him.

“Please let me, Sy,” you pleaded, taking his length in your hand. You looked up to see Lucas nodding slowly. He groaned in acceptance.

You ran your tongue over your palm to lubricate it. Lucas’ eyes widened to the size of teacups. His cock jolting in excitement, his heart skipping a beat at the erotic scene happening right before him.

One hand touched his hips, moving to the small of his back, to have a grip on his ass, pushing him closer to your face. He filled your hand beautifully with his hardness, yet he was still soft to the touch of your palm. You started moving your hand up, slowly, hearing his gasp was turning you on even more than you already were. You smeared the clear precum around the glans with your thumb. Delicately wrapping your mouth around him. Your lips were stretched to max capacity, a voice in the back of your mind was telling you that you had to be careful not to lock your jaws, but then again you had a doctor right in front of you if the situation should happen.

You languidly moved his member further into your warm mouth, coating him with your saliva. Your tongue gliding over the tip. Lucas released a low moan that sent vibrations through his body. He lifted his face towards the ceiling. Your hand left his ass, moving down his thighs, tickling the backside of his knee, before travelling up the inside of his thigh and gently cupping his balls.

“Fuuuuuuck…” he guttered. You sucked the part that could fit in your mouth in synchronicity with your hand’s movement. He felt the tightening deep within his testicles. The hitching in his breath notified you of his coming release. You led his hands to your scalp, letting his fingers fisting your hair, before giving him a sultry look with his cock in your mouth.

He was grunting hard as he set the pace, while you did your best to keep up with him. Moving his hips, chasing his release inside your mouth. You relaxed your throat, letting him take over. You wanted so much to please him. 

“Fuck, sunshine… I’m so close,” he growled.

“Come in my mouth,” you uttered. It was like something within him snapped the minute you voiced the words. He moved faster, harder, rougher. Until you felt the first spurts of his seed hitting your palate. You swallowed everything he spilt and then licked him clean.

Sy fumbled with his office chair as he sat down with a satisfied hum and pulled you to sit on his lap.

“That was amazing,” he smiled at you, kissing the tip of your nose, your cheek, the corner of your mouth and lastly a lingering kiss on your reddened lips.

“Glad you approve,” you grinned back, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“About those books,” you pointed towards the books you had peeked at earlier.

“Theses I had to write for med school.”

“Tell me about them while you rest for round two.”

#Henry Cavill #This man #I need a drink #Captain Syverson #Fanfiction #My story #Radaofrivia #Co-written #SMUT #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #Henry Cavill x reader #Henry Cavill x female reader #Henry x reader #Henry x female reader #Sex on Fire

[norabrice1701]

Strange Case of Dr. Kreizler and Mr. Brühl - Ch. 4

A "Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde" AU Modern!Laszlo/Daniel x Fem!Reader Series

Series Master List

Chapter Warnings: Explicit 18+ female masturbation, language, reference to child abuse, home invasion & associated reader distress

Chapter Word Count: 3.4k

Chapter 4 -

Two weeks later, you knew four things about Laszlo for sure. Or, more accurately, you knew that you had four puzzle pieces to the most unusual man that you’d ever met.

One - his pocket watch wasn’t just decoration. In the age of smartphones and smartwatches, Laszlo carried a pristine silver pocket watch from 1896 that he wound every morning. He let you inspect it up close on your third outing - dinner at a cozy French bistro - and you couldn’t remember when, if ever, you’d held such antique jewelry. When you asked him why he carried it, he said that it wasn’t a family piece, but when he found it during his med school days, he simply liked it.

Two - he listened far more than anyone else you’d ever known. He picked up details and inferences, often quizzing you with simple questions and regarding you as if pieces of your own puzzle also formed in his mind. Half the time, you couldn’t decide if his careful scrutiny was flattering or if you were just some experiment for him to dissect. But as you watched his smile continue to bloom and his reserved demeanor yield to something gentler, you didn’t mind so much.

Three - his cologne had you hooked. Each time he opened a door for you or stepped close to brush a parting kiss to your knuckles, you took a deep breath to capture it. The scent of warm citrus and peppery spice made you want to lean closer and chase it on his skin. But each time you tried, you always found something else lurking beneath. Something chemical, something clinical - and you never could be sure exactly what it was. Some days, it was dull mothballs or maybe formaldehyde; other times, it was sharp disinfectant; and then, one day, it was vaguely reminiscent of rotten eggs. You didn’t dare ask about it. The last thing you wanted to do was make the man even more self-conscious, and really, those scents didn’t bother you so long as his cologne distracted you.

Four - he favored his right arm. It wasn’t obvious to the casual observer, but as you watched him navigate doors, dinner tables, phones and pocket watches, his right hand often rested at his side or tucked in his trousers pocket. Of course, you hadn’t seen him shirtless - you hadn’t even fully kissed him yet - but there was nothing obviously telling about his right hand. It looked just as competent as his left which he wielded with an elegant grace. Again, you didn’t dare ask, but you were careful not to make it awkward when he wanted you on his left side to hold your hand.

You sighed, looking over at the bouquet of flowers that sat on your desk. The thought had never even crossed your mind when you told him your favorite flower during last Saturday's mid-morning stroll through a local farmer's market. You’d been too busy leaning over to inhale the flowers' perfume, too excited about the lunch that you had both planned to cook with the fresh ingredients from the market. And, god, standing beside him in your kitchen, cooking beside him, seeing him dressed down in a button-down shirt, light sweater and dark trousers - it had taken all of your strength to not pin him against the counter and demand that he kiss you senseless. But you hadn’t and he hadn’t, and he stayed the frustratingly perfect gentleman, dusting your knuckles with increasingly longer kisses each time you parted.

How many more nights would he let you burn in pent-up frustration before he finally kissed you? Heat simmered in your blood at the thought and you couldn’t put your finger on why he hesitated. Perceptive as he was, he surely had noticed your obvious signs of interest, but could he simply not work up the nerve? Yes, he was old-fashioned and surprisingly unsure of himself in odd moments, but he was hardly an inexperienced prude. Was he simply just being careful about opening himself up to you after suffering Mary’s loss?

No matter the reason, it was easy enough to push your own desires aside and just enjoy being with him. You were happy to go at his pace, and if his pace meant more local markets, more museum visits, more candlelit bistro dinners, and more intimate coffee shops - then you certainly weren’t about to complain. No one had ever tried to romance you like this before, and you weren’t ready to give it up.

You reached for the handwritten note atop the fresh blooms, reading it for what surely had to be the hundredth time.

I look forward to the pleasure of your company this evening. -Laszlo

Even his handwriting looked old-fashioned with neat cursive edges and minimal flourishes. Your smile widened as you ran a finger over the dried ink of his name.

“Oh my god.” Bitsy’s voice carried across your cubicle. You turned to find her staring at you with her mouth gaping open and eyes wide. “Mr. Guy is sending you flowers so soon? And you’re smiling like that?! You owe me a story. Right. Now.”

“There’s no story.” Your cheeks burned in instant betrayal. “He...he’s just thoughtful like that.”

“‘Thoughtful like that’, hmm? Yeah, right. What decade do we live in, again?” She dropped into the guest chair at your desk. “Guys don’t get this romantic after just two weeks.”

You slipped the note back into the envelope with a little shrug. “Well, he’s a little old-fashioned.”

“Uh-huh, sure - but seriously, what did he do? Text you nonstop?”

“He’s actually not a big texter.”

“Show up late to a date?”

“If anything he’s so early that when I arrive early I feel late.”

“Came too soon during sex?”

“Uh, definitely no. Not there yet.”

Her eyebrows raised. “Two weeks with the same guy and you haven’t torn each others’ clothes off? Again - what decade do we live in?”

“Like I said, he’s an old-fashioned sort.”

She fixed you with a shrewd look. “Does that mean he's older than you?”

“Um, not too much older….” You didn’t need to tell Bitsy your estimation on age difference. Not that you were embarrassed by it, but it wasn’t her business.

“Then, you need to sit him down and show him what’s what. You’ve got needs; surely, he does, too.”

You nodded, feeling your cheeks flush. “We’ll see - his fiancée did just pass away two months ago, so I’m more than happy to go at his pace.” You hadn’t asked again and he hadn’t volunteered any more information about Mary, but it just seemed easier to call her his fiancée.

Bitsy shook her head, apprehensive. “I really hope that you’re not in rebound territory. You deserve so much better than that.”

“No - at least, I don’t think I am. It doesn’t feel like a rebound. It feels...it feels like he’s coming out of his shell, like he's taking tentative steps above ground after spending so much time underground...if that even makes sense.” You felt your cheeks flush as you bit your lip. There was a reason you weren’t a poet, after all.

Bitsy’s face suffused with a kind, sympathetic smile. “Well, definitely don’t quit your day job - but if this guy’s got you trying to wax poetic over him, then he must be doing something right, even if he’s not doing you right in the bedroom.”

You tried to reign in your growing, embarrassed smile, but it was already too late. Bitsy’s smile softened with genuine happiness and just a touch of envy as she spoke. “Are you seeing him tonight?”

“Yeah - dinner lakeside in Central Park.”

“Always a classic.”

“I can't believe I’ve never been.” You paused, shaking your head with a touch of concern. "He's appearing in court today, and I know he's been preoccupied about it - I just hope that he'll be able to relax during dinner."

"Well, you could always just meet him before dinner," she dropped her voice conspiratorially. “A blow job's always good for-"

Thankfully your phone rang and you were spared anymore of that conversation in your open cubicle. But maybe, she wasn't entirely wrong...maybe you could convince him, or maybe he would be ready tonight.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, and you found yourself strolling through Central Park at the agreed upon time. Snuggling down into your scarf, the cool twilight breeze nipped at your cheeks and rustled the fading autumn leaves. The mysteries of fall danced in the air, alive with the approach of Halloween, and though you didn’t consider yourself to be outright superstitious, you’d visited enough cemeteries to have respect for the thinning of the veil between worlds.

You nearly laughed. Sure, you’d always loved autumn – but just listen to yourself. Maybe you were more head over heels than you thought. As you approached the lake, catching a glimpse of his unmistakable silhouette, backlit against the brilliance of sunset and…ok, you were definitely head over heels for this man. He still wore his crisp, black suit from the day, but he’d shed his vest and tie, revealing a long swath of his white dress shirt with the top button undone. Desirous heat licked up your spine to see the exposed hollow of his throat.

He looked up as you drew close, the shadows of troubled worry fading from his face as he took in your appearance with warm affection. “Good evening.”

You smiled fondly. “Evening – you know, as well as you wear a full suit, I could just as easily get used to this, too.” Your eyes trailed with obvious intent over his open collar and exposed shirt.

The corner of his mouth lifted in modesty. “I would apologize, but this wasn’t intentional. I didn’t have time to run home after leaving the institute, nor did I wish to look so…austere during our dinner.”

You nodded in understanding. “How did the court case go today?”

His mouth drew to a tight line as storm clouds gathered in his eyes. “The court ruled in favor of Elaine.” Of course, that wasn’t the girl’s real name, but he gave each of his patients an alias to help provide you a frame of reference. “She will be allowed to stay at the institute until such time as they rule differently.” He paused, extending his left arm and you easily reached for his broad hand. The gentle strength of his touch always made your smile grow and you fell into step with him, strolling around the lake’s edge.

He drew a sharp breath before continuing. “But I understand that her uncle plans to appeal the ruling with full intent to regain custody himself, or at least, to have her entered into the state foster care program instead of what he terms an 'insane asylum'. But I fear Elaine’s scars run too deep and the state program lacks the sufficient means to truly help her…and that is to say nothing if her sordid uncle manages to reinstate his guardianship.”

He’d been taking this case so personally. You could hear it each time he spoke of this young girl, how repulsed he was at the treatment she received living with her uncle, and how determined he was to provide her a haven for recovery and growth. You squeezed his hand. “I’m so glad to hear the court ruled in her favor. I don’t see how they could make any other verdict – it certainly sounds like her uncle is the worst of the worst, and honestly, should be locked away himself.”

He hummed quietly, almost to himself, his tone slipping to a low, dark register. “I have no doubt that he will come to see the error of his ways.” He turned towards you, his face brightening as if he’d come to some great, private decision that brought him peace. The corner of his mouth curled with a soft smile. “But he needn’t spoil our evening – how was your day?”

You huffed a breath through your closed lips. “Oh, you know...just more of the same. The client wanting to make changes at the eleventh hour and not pay me for them. Meetings that run far too long with conversations that go off the rails. Emails that all need answered immediately.” You paused, biting your lip. “You know – it all sounds horrifically unimportant and insignificant compared to the work that you do.”

He took a swift step forward, spinning around to face you with an elegant, surprisingly confidant motion. You couldn’t react in time, crashing gently into him and catching a hint of his delicious day-worn cologne. His eyes, glinting with the distant colors of twilight, bored through yours with fierce intensity. “Do not ever suggest that you or your deeds in this world are inconsequential. You owe your self-worth and self-satisfaction to no one else’s standards but your own.” His voice carried low and soft, impossible to deny. “Just because you choose to work with steel and stone over flesh and blood doesn’t mean that you’re made of any less. For I assure you that you are worthy of everything good in this world, mein Liebling.”

Your heart leapt to your throat on the endearment as your pulse quickened. You blinked back at him, voice tremulous. “Including you…?”

Self-reproach ate at the corners of his eyes as his face drew in. “I hardly qualify…but even Icarus couldn’t resist the desire to reach for what he wanted, and I will be honored to fly near your sun for as long as I can.”

You wanted to melt at his feet, wanted to give him your whole heart and never look back. A shuddering breath passed your lips. “You…you shouldn’t be allowed to say things like that.”

His left hand tentatively reached forward to cup your jaw, his thumb sweeping along your cheek. You leaned into his touch as your head spun, lost to everything about him and drowning under his gaze. “And sometime,” you said softly, “you’re going to tell me why you’re allowed to think so little of yourself and I’m not – but if you don’t kiss me right now, Laszlo, I’m going to lose my mind.”

He released an amused, shaky breath as the corner of his mouth edged a genuine, warm smile. His thumb swept your cheek again as he lowered his head. You tilted to meet him, the brush of his facial hair perfect as your lips met. Tingling heat spread through you as you learned the shape of his mouth, relishing the intimate contact. Leaning into the kiss, you raised a hand to his bearded jaw to hold him close.

The brush of your fingers through his facial hair tore a gasp from him that you eagerly swallowed and you drew his bottom lip between yours. His answering groan shot liquid heat straight through you, setting your blood on fire. You gasped for breath against him, a whine in the back of your throat as he deepened the kiss. The first touch of his tongue made your toes curl as you existed in this endless moment with him.

The dizzy need for air made you part, leaning your nose and forehead against his. His own shallow, trembling breaths warmed your skin as your fingers continued to play along his well-groomed beard. Still leaning into the warm strength of his hand cradling your cheek, you sighed as your body burned. “God, I would rather eat you than dinner right now.”

He placed a simple, chaste kiss to your lips, pulling away before you could entice him to lengthen it. “All good things with time, Liebling.”

“Aren’t we already late for the reservation?”

“No. Not for another fifteen minutes, at least.”

You hummed in teasing suspicion. “Was this part of your grand plan, doctor? To seduce me by the light of the setting sun?”

“Only with your permission, of course.”

And, fuck, did he ever have it.

You weren’t entirely sure how your feet stayed on the ground during dinner. In fact, you weren’t sure how your face hadn’t split in half from the force of your smile. Of course, he reverted to his more reserved manner in the public space of the restaurant, but an unmistakable light shone in his brown eyes and when there wasn’t food on the table, he held your hand in his atop the white tablecloth.

And you still hadn’t stopped smiling. Even now as you floated through your apartment, high on his goodnight kiss and relaxed from half a bottle of wine. Your apartment may not have been much to write home about, but it had a bathtub – and tonight, you intended to indulge. Steam curled in the air as the porcelain tub filled and bubbles frothed. You quickly shed your clothes and slipped into the hot, sudsy water, enjoying the luxurious bubble bath. As you drifted in the steamy air, you let your eyes close and imagined that Laszlo was there with you.

Your hands started tracing against your skin, down the slope of your neck to your breasts. Just how rough would his facial hair be against your supple skin as he drew a peaked nipple between his lips? Your fingers twisted and pinched, lost to the fantasy of his mouth’s wet heat. Would those brown eyes be molten with lust as he gazed up at you? A moan slipped from your lips, echoing off the surrounding tile.

A steady, pulsing heat built in your core and you let your hand continue drifting down your stomach to settle where you ached. How sure would his broad fingers glide through your dripping folds and tease your clit? Would he blind you with rushing, overwhelming pleasure? Or would he drive you mad with a slow, steady tempo until your body crescendoed with euphoric bliss? Both scenarios were equally delicious as your fingers found the familiar rhythm against your clit, tense heat building at the base of your spine. Your soft cries continued to ricochet off the tile, the water in the tub sloshing with your movements as you chased your pleasure, longing for the touch of his lips, his hands, his cock.

Your breath seized on a broken moan as orgasm rushed through you, electrifying every nerve ending. High on your release, you relaxed against the porcelain as the water settled around you. It felt amazing, of course, but also left you feeling distinctly empty - fuck, you couldn’t wait until the day that Laszlo was here with you, and you could enjoy each other’s body together.

When the water finally turned tepid, you stepped into the shower, rinsing away the bubbles and washing your hair. After drying off, you stepped into cotton sleep shorts and a thin t-shirt, fully intent on crawling into bed with a mug of tea and your book. You also needed to send Laszlo a goodnight text, and another smile warmed your face as you rounded the corner to the kitchen.

Turning on the light threw dark shadows across the open concept kitchen, dining and living area as you dug into the pantry for herbal tea. Reaching next to the stove, you snagged the tea kettle and stepped up to the sink. You glanced up into your living room, jumping back with a startled cry.

A shadowy figure sat in your accent chair. It looked like a man from the broad shoulders and short hair, but it was difficult to make out any other identifying features. The weight of two assessing eyes froze you in place, glinting in the low light and winking out as he blinked.

Your pulse raced as adrenaline surged, demanding that you run or arm yourself with a kitchen knife. You forced a hard swallow, gripping the kettle handle tight and trying to find your voice. “W-who are you?”

Those unnerving eyes blinked again as he remained otherwise motionless. Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as the tension mounted. Should you lob the kettle towards his head and make a run for the hallway? Or should you just scream to get the neighbor’s attention?

You took a slow step back from the sink, knuckles white around the kettle handle. “What…what do you want?”

“Well, after that performance, mein Herzblatt – there’s a number of things I want.”

Your blood ran cold. The words may have been purred, but after the last two weeks, you’d know those faint German syllables anywhere. You gulped thickly, unable to believe it. “…Laszlo?”

His answering chuckle raced a shiver down your spine. “Not exactly.” He stood to his full height, eyes gleaming with dark promise. “You may call me Mr. Brühl.”

Series Master List

Tag List: @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @thehuiabird @creme-bruhlee @belle82devart @scuttle-buttle @glimmering-darling-dolly @somethingthatsaysbubbles @raraenoctes @random-frog-on-a-bench @violetmuses

#the alienist #laszlo kreizler #laszlo x reader #laszlo x you #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel brühl x reader #daniel brühl x you #laszlo kreizler fanfic #modern laszlo kreizler #dr jekyll and mr hyde

[pinkhairedlily]

[Open Your Mouth] Chapter 3 - O

See previous chapters here: AO3 | Tumblr

Summary: She downs her mimosa in one long drink and snaps her fingers. The television shuts blank, and she sashays her way to a room. It looks just like any other wall partition but it opens to an expansive study. It has a day bed on the side, a long table, and her most comfortable swivel chair. Metallic chairs are folded on the side for her clients.Taking up the rest of the space are shelves filled with her favorite books. In the middle, sandwiched by volumes of Crime and Punishment and Les Miserables are jars of teeth submerged in liquid, white, sparkly, well-maintained. On the other end of the wall is a chest box which also functions like a wide ottoman. Except that it isn’t. It’s a freezer for the meat she has yet to eat.

-xxxxxxx-

March 7, 2021, 12:03 PM

“Open your mouth please.” Her bright emerald irises pop out from her mask as she probes the inside of his mouth. Sasuke feels the metal tool scrape against his tooth on the lower left. His tongue is on the edge of making a clucking sound, but he winces from a sharp pain when she moves his tooth from front to back.

“It’s loose,” she confirms for him. He recognizes notes of jasmine in her proximity. “I can extract it for you now. You’ll just have to spend the rest of the day under pain killers.”

He dropped by her clinic during his lunch break, intending to take up her offer in the off chance that she accepts walk-ins.

Of course, it was situated on the 25th floor of one of Senju’s high rise buildings which houses their offshoot businesses in the medical field; one floor for every niche – a chiropractor on the tenth, a hair transplant on the 17th, herbal practitioners on the 20th.

Of course, the brunette receptionist with a very sharp eyeliner sent him away, and looked at him pointedly with visible annoyance when he brought up that the dentist offered the appointment herself. People often tell him he’s handsome, and he gets to use this pretty privilege during the conduct of cases sometimes. But people here are immune to his so-called stoic charm.

Of course, it’s probably because there are far richer, far more aristocratic clients than him that would have naturally made a beeline towards the beautiful dentist.

He clucks nonetheless, his tongue grazing against the cold metal. “Can you do it under thirty?”

“Rushing for an appointment?” She gets the syringe from her assistant and taps it on her delicate wrist.

“Vying if I could get ten more minutes for an ice cream.” Her hands are light and quick to inject the anesthesia in the surrounding gums. He hears her soft chuckle against her mask.

“Not the first time that someone did that move.” She hands him his cone with one scoop of mint chocolate.

“I’m not a fan of sweets if you should know,” he says. “Is strong arm strength needed for a dentist?” Two big bites from the top.

Sakura blushes with an intensity, he notes, and in contrast her actions – she shies away her gaze from his stare with her fingers devoid of any jewelry. “You’re as direct as everyone in your lot goes, huh?”

“Is the topic too morbid for you, Dr. Haruno?”

“I’m keeping tabs with the news but I forego the specifics.” She fiddles with her two scoops of double dutch in a small cup. “But to answer your question, you only need to have the right leverage, an accurate position, and a good angle to ease out the naughtiest of teeth. However, it’s really an advantage to have great arm strength. It can get tiring after the twelve noon patient.”

Sasuke finishes his ice cream in the next three bites, feeling nothing in his mouth, the anesthesia still kicking, but he can taste the blood mingle with the freshness of mint, a tinge of rust in the sweetness on his tongue. “You’re not as bothersome as everyone in your lot.”

She raises both of her eyebrows, not sure if she understands his underlying implications.

“Dr. Tsunade Senju and Dan Haruno, top billing general surgeons of the medical world.”

Her mouth opens to form a small and soundless oh. “Ah I’m sure you already snuffed most information about me – it goes that way, right? Ah? Not at all? – So the thing is….I’m not their legitimate daughter. I’m adopted.”

He didn’t have to snuff, these are all open information in the playground of the rich. “A stroke of luck to land on a high end and well managed orphanage.” Her immense wealth does not translate to jewelry, face jobs, and fancy lash lifts. On her breast pocket are three pilot coletos, an apple watch on her wrist, mid-budget choice of clothes, and comfortable white Nike sneakers to be later replaced with a good fit of block heels. When summed up, they barely make a dent out of her daily worth. The rest of the money must have been channeled to her clinic’s state of the art facilities.

“You could say that I struck gold with my circumstances since then.” She spoons out a big chunk of her ice cream.

“But not prior.” The sugar brown cone also disappears in his mouth, all the chewing done by only one side.

“Amnesia. I reportedly had a traumatic head injury when they found me.” Her pink locks drift to the side, her head tilted in expectation of his further prodding.

Sasuke twists the line to another direction, and he captures the quick change of her microexpression from subtle guarding to surprise. “Would it be possible to inject one strong dose of anesthesia to the full mouth and extract all teeth?”

“Enough to knock them unconscious,” she confirms.

And kill them without sound, Sasuke surmises. He stands up and taps his wristwatch. “My ten minutes with you is up. I take it my extraction procedure is free?”

“I’m sure you’ll afford the next one.” She continues to fiddle with her cup as she watches him go.

Sasuke halts in his exiting steps and looks back at Sakura like it’s an afterthought. “If you’d like a payment, a dinner wouldn’t be so bad.” He turns on his heels and doesn’t stop, he can hear a faint laughter behind his back.

-x-

March 10, 2021, 7:16 PM

“Did I keep you waiting?” He slides on the seat across her and takes in her body language as well as their milieu.

They agreed to meet at seven sharp but Kakashi had asked for another briefing from him so he was held back. Her soft expression, in all its exuding naivety, gives nothing away. “This place doesn’t have no reservations, Detective.”

“Just Sasuke,” he remarks. He clucks his tongue in appreciation. “A hole in the wall noodle place. You frequent this area?”

“A reminder that you gave me the green light to choose.” She’s dressed today in an olive sweatshirt tucked into a neat pair of trousers and velvet loafers – a right mix of classy and casual. “It’s my assistant’s go-to. He would always bring me the best-selling set after a grueling work day so I asked for an address.”

“Thanks for the consideration, Dr. Haruno,” he says. Their order arrives minutes after, and she flashes an apologetic smile. For ordering beforehand Frankly speaking, he expected her to bring him into a Michelin restaurant – one to boost her reputation and second to blanket her in safety of familiar breeds. Or maybe safety is much better in company of anonymity.

“Just Sakura.”

They finish two plates of dimsum and almost empty out the small bottle of chili oil, garlic, sesame, and soy sauce concoction. Sipping a glass of soy milk after a bounty feast, Sasuke reviews the facts again in his mind.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Sakura asks, finished with her drink.

“Give me a hundred bucks then.”

“How many coffee orders would those be worth?”

Sasuke smirks in spite of himself. He changes topics again, on to the mundane life of a Senju-Haruno heir.

“How is the case progressing by the way?”

He glances up and notes the curiosity and fear in her eyes. “Classified information.”

She leans, plates with crumbles and half-empty glasses in between, and tilts her head, her rose locks spilling from her back. “Will they come for me?”

An alarm ticks off somewhere in his mind. “What makes you think so?” They’ve only had one body so far with no other indication of a succeeding death.

He sees that she bites the inside of her mouth, and she fiddles again with the cutlery in front of her. “Maybe I’m just overthinking.”

About ten minutes later, he ushers her outside the rather dingy restaurant but when no car arrives to escort her back to her place, he encourages her to place an uber. He could ask her to ride with him but the mere implications are layered, and he’s not ready for that quite yet. She gives him a look when he opens the door to her uber, an unspoken question she is yet to articulate. When he gets nothing within seconds, he waves goodbye.

“Give me a text when you’re home,” he says although he shouldn’t have.

“It has been an interesting night,” she replies. “Detective.”

The car finally drives away, and he remains with the remnants of her jasmine scent.

-x-

March 13, 2021, 5:49 PM, The second body

“You are not going to release that profile,” the wife of Haru Kagoshi says. She also stands as the chief overseas director of Haru Light, Inc. “Are you insinuating that my husband fucked a gay man?”

“Fuck is a callous word. Watch your tone,” the CEO of Mingwa Industries warn. “Are you sure you’re on the right track?”

“With all due respect, Captain Yamato is the best we have in the country in the field of criminal profiling. He knows what he’s doing,” Asuma assures everyone.

“And are your detectives doing the proper work? Are you covering all fields?” the Mingwa COO pointedly looks at Sasuke. “Because as far as performance goes, you’re allowing that killer to cripple our economy by snuffing out the next best minds.”

Kakashi’s eyes roll in sync with Sasuke’s at the cripple our economy.

Yamato stands up and offers a cup of coffee at the recently widowed which she explicitly ignores. “We will not be identifying the gender of the killer, but we need to narrow it down to males. Of course, it’s up to the public how they will presume it is connected to the genital mutilation.”

“Fuck you,” the widow says. “You know we can cut off your institutional funding, right?”

Kakashi has started massaging his forehead, a sign that he is nearing his bullshit tolerance level. “Yes you can, but we have an annual appropriation from the government. And cutting off our resources won’t solve this case any faster.”

“-with your due respect,” Asuma adds, hoping to de-escalate the situation.

The grandfather CEO of Mingwa Industries scoffs. “We’ll just have to launch our individual investigation then. In case you might be intentionally sabotaging the progress of this case, isn’t that right, Uchiha Sasuke?”

The disdain in his voice when Uchiha rolls off his tongue is jarring and pointed. Sasuke smirks in defiance, willing to push these elites further to the edge of self-destruction. Years in a gray cubicle and thousands of meters walked in company to a reviewing mind, he found that money could get you somewhere – just not the finish line. “You’d better keep an eye out on me then.”

“What the fuck was that about?” Asuma sneers at the detective department after the white collars scampered off. “They are strong lobbyists backing powerful politicians. We shouldn’t be picking a fight with them.”

“He started it,” Sasuke points to Kakashi who shrugs.

“Anyway, Yamato and I will prepare to announce the profile to the media, just a vague description, and then we’ll work on a composite sketch based on these assumptions,” Kakashi pats Asuma’s shoulders. “Ease up. I’m sure Sasuke and his team are doing their best.”

“I’m not doubting an Uchiha, but I’m doubting the way your petty behaviors get in the process of investigation. Now get out and do your jobs.” The Chief Police retrieves a half-emptied pack of cigarettes and lights up a stick. “This job is giving me cancer.”

11:13 PM

She sips her third glass of mimosa as her eyes drift to the sound of her television. A big banner of breaking news is placed below with the caption authorities release a profile: a serial killer at hand?

She chuckles, almost spilling the cocktail on her fingers. She drifts closer to the screen and her nails stick on the necks of the silver-haired man and the man who she assumes is the criminal profiler.

“Authorities confirm that Armando Mingwa and Haru Kagoshi have been killed by the same person. Renowned profiler Captain Yamato reveals the breakdown of the suspect – male with a minimum height of 5’7, age from late 20s to early 30s, and frequents the high-end districts. When asked if we have a serial killer at large, the chief detective and the profiler neither confirmed nor deny.”

She downs her mimosa in one long drink and snaps her fingers. The television shuts blank, and she sashays her way to a room. It looks just like any other wall partition but it opens to an expansive study. It has a day bed on the side, a long table, and her most comfortable swivel chair. Metallic chairs are folded on the side for her clients.Taking up the rest of the space are shelves filled with her favorite books. In the middle, sandwiched by volumes of Crime and Punsihment and Les Miserables are jars of teeth submerged in liquid, white, sparkly, well-maintained.

On the other end of the wall is a chest box which also functions like a wide ottoman. Except that it isn’t. It’s a freezer for the meat she has yet to eat.

March 24, 2021, 1:10 PM

“So what was the dentist’s alibi?” Neji asks the sullen detective.

“He had a meditation class for each date – January 29 and February 27 – which runs for five hours. They time it with the moon cycles. I also called his teacher – she prefers to be called witch ­– and confirmed his attendance.” Sasuke clucks his tongue. “However, they are a class of 100. He can easily slip out when everyone else is closing their eyes and saying humbda dumda.”

He glances at the map on the wall, pins already on the dumpsites, and he zeroes in on the address smack in the middle. “And he can dump the body with his nondescript car and go back in again. Did you know he has three cars – a Tesla, Mercedes, and a black pick-up?”

Tenten carries a fresh pot of coffee to the table and stares at their evidence board. “I’m guessing it’s the same truck with the garbage ones – those going through the suburbs?”

Sasuke nods. “He says it’s for farming. He has a land on the rural side of the district.”

Jugo raises a brow. “That ends my snooping in with the golden spoons.”

“Not quite Jugo.” Neji fills himself a cup. “These people socialize in the same circles you know.”

Someone knocks on the open door of the room and raises a box of cake. “Delivery for you, Detective Uchiha.” The staff attempts to enter but Jugo raises a finger to stop her.

“Who’s it from?” Jugo asks. “It might be the killer.”

The staff scratches the back of her head. “I don’t think the killer is a beautiful pink-haired lady with green eyes.”

All heads turn curiously to Sasuke who gets the cake from the staff. “It’s my punishment.”

Tenten’s eyes narrow at the name on the card. Haruno Sakura. “How is it a punishment? She brought you – us – sweets.”

“She knows I hate sweets. Help yourself though.”

“So you’re dating?” Neji says it with disbelief. “How? You’re barely in the office and – oh my god, you’re skipping hours aren’t you!”

Jugo repeats the name over and over. “Fuck. You’re seeing the Haruno Sakura? She’s as recluse as the oddball heirs go, but I’ve only heard good things from her. I heard she’s very skilled with her hands. Experienced it yet, Uchiha?”

Sasuke kicks him in the shin as soon as he’s done talking. “Firsthand. A tooth on the lower left. Now shut up and get back to work.”

-x-

April 12, 2021, 6:17 AM, The third body

The team congregates in the morgue. Another body. Only this time, it was found on a ravine, some parts already devoured by wild animals.

“It’s Fugashi Imamu, current overseas director of Imamu Holdings,” the medical examiner tells them. “Same methods done but there’s more clotting on the crotch area, indicating his genital was mutilated while he was still alive.”

Jugo and Neji both groan inwardly.

“He has an eight-year old.” Tenten crosses her arms in front of her. “A math wizard.”

Sasuke closes his eyes, fending off the initial signs of a migraine. The cases kept piling, and they were nowhere close to a lead. “Can you estimate the date of death?”

“I wouldn’t know just yet with all the rigor mortis and animal attacks. But if we pattern this with the recent killings, and the body was dumped within the last two weeks, the killing must have taken place on the last week of March.”

11:13 AM

March 29, Sasuke thinks about the ME’s latest message. There must be a pattern for the dates of killings. And if there was, they are up against an intelligent killer, a methodical one. He must have a list of targets with a step by step process on how to approach and kill each one. He plans weeks ahead with several contingencies.

“Captain Yamato confirms the ME’s assumption. There really is a pattern,” Tenten tells the team. “Unfortunately, the information already reached the golden spoon team.”

Neji comes in with stacks of folders and notebooks. “Got all his stuff from his secretary. Seems like the bastard slept around or may have been just a bad boss, said she couldn’t be more than happy to live in a world rid of such filthy lolita creep – her words, not mine.”

They go through each page, jotting down relevant information. Sasuke, on the other hand, flips through a small wallet-sized planner. Jotted down on March 26 is veneers with Dr. Akugawa. He seems like the go-to dentist of the big shots. He goes further up the dates and there on March 6 is a name he doesn’t expect. Haruno Sakura.

“It’s true. His daughter had an appointment with me,” Sakura confirms over the phone. “But he also dropped by last year for a tooth extraction dislodged by a punch from his grandfather. Old money can be quite controlling.”

“Ah. Doesn’t he have a family dentist?” He taps his pen on his desk, tens of gears running through his mind.

“Told me his dentist was unavailable for an emergency procedure so he dropped by the one nearest his office.”

Sasuke looks at the time on his watch. “Did you have lunch yet?”

“I have an 11:30. But I can see you in 12.”

He gets there fifteen minutes before, and he flashes his badge to Laura who has grown accustomed to his lunch break visits. Nonetheless, her countenance makes apparent her dislike.

“Your cctv records please,” Sasuke tells her. It isn’t a request, Laura knows, so she leads him to the administrative room on the floor and instructs the staff to show the dates he mentions.

Kiyoko Imamu went there on March 6 with her mother and a helper. They backtrack until they find the date when Fugashi had an appointment. A 30-minute visit and he was quickly out.

“Does Dr. Haruno have other clinics? A private location for a niche clientele?” Sasuke asks.

Laura shakes her head. “Only this one, and she doesn’t accept house calls. She likes to concentrate her work in one place.”

He tells the staff to rewind the records on January 29, February 27, and March 29. Nothing was peculiar about Sakura’s body language, Sasuke notes. He commits all records in his memory and allows himself to be ushered out by Laura. They arrive to Sakura waiting at the receptionist’s desk.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” She asks him with a tilt in her head.

“Just right about now.” He offers an open arm to her which she links with hers. Her face immediately blooms in shades of red.

“We have mussel soup today and grilled mackerel. On the other hand, we also serve bolognese. Or do you have any other location in mind?”

“Your cafeteria’s menu sounds nice.”

They’re interrupted by Sasuke’s phone.

“Where are you?” Kakashi’s voice borders on the edge of frustration.

“Lunch,” Sasuke replies.

“Come back asap. The families had Jugo come in and take Akugawa for questioning.”

#open your mouth #sasusaku #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #pinkhairedlily #crime and mystery au #thriller au #am i even doing this right lmao