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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Part 6 of SpecGru (former 141) reader; Simon’s perspective again.

Content: brief implication/mention of reader having idle suicidal ideation. In the way of “I don’t care if something happens to me” kind of way. Happens during a phone call between Price and reader’s new captain.

Please be careful and safe. If someone needs this part summarized, let me know. I love you all very much <3

Here’s the truth of it: Simon never meant for you to leave.

You were too close, that was true. He did everything short of actually hurting you to drive you away. Treated you like a plaything, took your kindness and patience and feelings for him for granted. Left you cold and alone in a hospital bed — unable to see you pale and half-dead all because you were so goddamn headstrong…

That had put it all in vicious perspective. That he couldn’t keep you safe; knowing him, following him, would surely end with you on a metal table rather than a clean hospital bed.

In hindsight, he knows it was as much for his own sake as yours, trying to force that emotional distance between you two. But he just… he can’t do it. Not again. Not you. You’d break him.

But he never meant for you to leave. Not really.

Maybe take an extended solo mission. Or just break off the romance of it all. Maybe you’d stay away for a while, give him time to sort out his feelings and shove the useless ones back into the pit they belong in.

He didn’t expect you to be gone as soon as you could stand.

“You said yourself, Simon, she’s too young and reckless. The 141 can’t afford to babysit her,” Price explained.

“She nearly got you killed, LT,” Soap pointed out. That was before he found out that you were gone for good, not just on disciplinary leave.

And when he did…

“No. No, she dinnae…” he wiped a hand down his face, eyes going a bit glassy. “Why? Why would she… didn’t we mean anythin’ to her? I know we were all a bit on the rocks but ‘s just cos she gave us a scare…”

Gaz took it the hardest, showing up most morning with red-rimmed, puffy eyes. He tried texting you a hundred times; they never went through.

He and Soap begged Price to reconsider, saying that he had no right to kick you out without consulting the rest of the squad.

“I just told her that she should consider transfer,” Price corrected, steely.

“Same fuckin’ thing, ain’t it?” Soap raged. “What else ‘s she gonna do when it’s her captain sayin’ it?”

And Price had finally crumbled, his stubbornness giving way to a clearer head and regret in the aftermath. Simon knew how he felt; had been haunted with the same gut-wrenching feeling for two weeks by that point.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have…” he wiped a hand down his face. “I’ll call Laswell, see if she can put us through.”

As it turned out, your new team had deployed you almost immediately. You were gone, relying on teammates you barely knew, and there was no guarantee when (or even if) you’d be reachable again.

When Laswell put Price through to your new captain instead, he scoffed down the line.

“That how the great John Price sends off his own?” He gruffed.

“I take care of my own,” Price replied, narrow-eyed.

“That’s explains it then, doesn’t it?” A shifting on the other end. “Well, she’s one of mine now, at least; better off that way I think.”

He was on speaker phone with the SpecGru captain. Shouldn’t have been, but it wasn’t a confidential call. So the rest of the 141 was there, vibrating with the effort to stay quiet.

Simon balled his hands into fists, arms crossed. He didn’t trust anyone with one of theirs. No, you belonged right there with the rest of the 141. They could keep you safe, keep you alive.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Price growled.

“Let me just ask you this, Price. And only because I need to know how to take care of her.” A pause, shuffling of papers. Something heavy and almost… hesitant in the silence before- “Did she always have this DNR order?”

Price’s office turned to ice. Simon’s entire shuddered, cored out. The arm of the chair Soap was occupying cracked. Gaz’s hand was covering his mouth, blood draining from his face.

“No,” Price answered, voice little more than rust.

A grunt on the other end.

“Thanks for the insight,” your new captain replied, sounding nonplussed. “At least you were good for something.”

The line droned, dead.

—

You’re standing with the rest of SpecGru, beaming like each and every one of them hung a star just for you. They orbit like you’re the sun, even Nikto, holding you in his arms, letting you lean back against him.

(You used to look at Simon like that. Used to let him hug you like that on the occasion he was weak and gave into the temptation to hold you.)

Every time he looks at you, it’s like a stranger with your face all over again.

You hold your shoulders differently. Tilt your head different. Have a certain control over your facial features better than any mask Simon’s donned.

Today you’re dressed down from your tac uniform. Specifically, your long-sleeve thermal has been replaced by a sleeveless gym shirt. It reveals that tattoo he caught only a glimpse of before — a big, intricate thing from your shoulder down your wrist.

(He and Johnny were going to go with you for your first tattoo. You asked them for all sort of recommendations. Enjoyed tracing Simon’s sleeve when he let you.)

There are more scars too. Burns, bullet grazes, jagged knife marks and patches from bad scrapes.

Nova is finishing up the wrapping on your hand, the other already done. You’re listening to something Russ is spouting off about, whatever it is making you laugh loud enough to be heard where Simon is lurking.

“C’mon,” Johnny says, bumping shoulders with Simon. “Know we fucked up yesterday, but we can try again. Maybe letting her beat the shite out of us will help clear the air, aye?”

Simon forces himself to look away. He already knows you won’t be glancing over.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Maybe.”

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #sad fic #angst #former 141 reader #specgru reader #simon ghost riley

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vavandeveresfan · 7 days

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"Sex is biological fact, NHS declares."

Fuckin FINALLY.

The article's behind a paywall, so I had to grab a screenshot fast. It's not the clearest picture, and I may have cut some off.

Here's the article, if you can get around the paywall.

From BBC News via Yahoo News:

NHS England charter to stress biological sex when placing patients in wards

Transgender women should not be put on single-sex female NHS wards, the government is proposing.

The measure is part of a raft of changes to the NHS Constitution for England, the charter of rights for patients.

The proposals stress the importance of biological sex for the first time when it comes to same-sex accommodation and intimate care.

In both cases, the rights are available only where possible.

For example, same-sex accommodation rights, which have existed for years, can and are breached where there is a clinically urgent need to admit and treat a patient and do not extend to areas such as critical care or accident and emergency.

The guidance also means that trans men should not be housed on single-sex male wards.

Under the proposals:

transgender people, whose gender identity differs from their biological sex, may be provided single rooms, where appropriate

patients will have the right to request a person of the same biological sex delivers any intimate care

Health Secretary Victoria Atkins said it was about making it clear that "sex matters".

"We want to make it abundantly clear that if a patient wants same-sex care, they should have access to it wherever reasonably possible," she said.

"By putting this in the NHS Constitution, we're highlighting the importance of balancing the rights and needs of all patients, to make a healthcare system that is faster, simpler and fairer to all."

'Trampled over'

Maya Forstater, of the Sex Matters campaign group, said the changes were "excellent news".

"The confusion between 'sex' and 'gender' in official policies like the NHS Constitution is what has enabled women's rights to be trampled over in the name of transgender identities," she said.

But Cleo Madeleine, of Gendered Intelligence, said robust policies were already in place and the government had its priorities wrong.

"After 14 years of austerity, medical professionals are crying out for more funding, more resources, and better conditions for staff and patients," she said.

"The government seems hell-bent on pursuing its obsession with the transgender community instead of addressing these longstanding needs."

'Martha's rule'

The changes are part of a wider review of the NHS Constitution, which the government must complete every 10 years.

They also include a plan to embed patients and their loved ones' right to access a rapid review from outside the care team if the patient is deteriorating.

This is the right behind "Martha's rule", which is being introduced in the NHS, to ensure patients know they can ask for a second opinion, with the government providing funding to hospitals for posters and leaflets informing patients and their families.

Martha Mills died aged 13, after being admitted to King's College Hospital, south London, in 2021, having injured her pancreas slipping on to the handlebars of her bike while cycling.

She later developed sepsis - but with better care, could have survived, an inquest found.

All the changes will be consulted on over the next eight weeks, before the constitution is updated later this year.

Labour's shadow health secretary Wes Streeting said: "Rights on paper are worthless unless they are delivered in practice.

"The NHS constitution already pledges that no patient will have to share an overnight ward with patients of the opposite sex, but that is not the case for too many patients."

#sex is fact #sex not gender #Cass report #Cass review #WPATH #gender critical #NHS #the tide is turning #the telegraph #the daily telegraph #BBC news

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imfinereallyy · 9 months

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Bedside Manner

for @acasualcrossfade request for "the infection has spread"

"Some birdie told me that you have been causing a fuss, Wayne, is that true?"

Wayne huffs from his hospital bed, glasses sliding down his nose. He places the newspaper he was reading on the table beside him. "You tell that Robbie of yours to stop exaggerating. It was only a small request."

Steve raises his eyebrows at his favorite patient (Dustin tells him he isn't supposed to have favorites, but he also used to cry anytime he picked up Max before him when they were younger, so what does he know) and gives him a knowing look. "Robin listens to no man, Wayne, you know this. You're better off sending that message through her wife. Besides, small? She was telling me you refused to have any other nurse help you because I wasn't here last night. Which surprised me since you are always pushing me on about taking a vacation. "

Wayne opens his mouth, but Steve presses on. "And the fact Robin was even in the room means they called a psych consult, so I can only imagine how bad it was."

Wayne grumbles like a little kid being scolded for getting his hands caught in the cookie jar. "Yea, well, it was a bad night, kid."

Steve feels his shoulders sag, he takes off his glasses and rubs a hand down his face before placing them back on. "Sorry, Wayne, I had a bad migraine last night. Nance and Robs wouldn't even let me pass the entrance. Bad news?"

"Kid, don't stress yourself out over me. I'm just your patient, and more so, I am just a cranky old man." Wayne patted Steve's knee as he sat down next to him.

"C'mon, Wayne. You're more than that. I'd like to think seeing you in and out of here the last year has made us friends. Although I gotta say, you're the only friend I have that I'll be glad if I don't get to see again, given the circumstances. So, what's the news?"

"The infection has spread."

Steve takes in a deep breath, he tries not to panic, but any infection in a hospital can be deadly, especially for a cancer patient like Wayne. "Incision site?"

Steve must not be as good at hiding his emotions as he used to be because Wayne jumps to ease his worry. "No, kid, don't worry. The surgery was a success. Just got that hospital fever, the good old bronchitis. But it just means I'm here longer than I have to. It also means my nephew is on edge, and I don't know if I can take a second longer of his hovering."

Steve laughed wetly, thankful for the topic change. "Ah yes, the mysterious nephew of yours that I've never met. The way you talk about him almost tempts me into switching to the day shift, sounds like he might be entertaining. But only almost."

"Always wondered why you were always working the nights, most of the others seem to switch. Not a big fan of the day?"

Steve shakes his head gently, "No, I like the quiet here at night. Like getting to know the patients without having to worry about fixing ten million things. Don't get me wrong, it has its downfalls. Like the doctors can be horrible at night, never tell Dr. Wheeler that or Robbie will kill me, and the food is awful. But there is something special about it here at night. So sorry, your ridiculous nephew isn't enough to tempt me."

Wayne smirked, "What if I told you he was a looker and single?"

Steve blushes slightly. He is used to patients trying to pawn him off to their relatives, it came with being a young male nurse, but typically it didn't phase him. But Steve has become close with Wayne, so hearing him suggest he get together with his nephew has him flustered. "I'm good, Wayne, thanks. Gave up on the dating scene a while ago. Not many people can keep up with a guy who works nights and suffers from severe head trauma."

"Shame, Eddie likes the nights too. I'd reckon yal would get along."

"I'm pretty sure we would need more than that, Wayne."

Wayne smiles fondly at Steve. "You don't need a whole lot to build a connection, son. Me and Linda, god rest her soul, only started dating for our mutual love of mugs. And we may not have had long together, but our love was strong. Besides, there is more yal would have in common than just the night shift."

Steve huffs a laugh, "Oh yea, like what?" The least he can do is humor the man.

"Well, you both care about me deeply."

Steve blushes again, "C'mon, Wayne. I'm your nurse. I'm kinda paid to care."

Wayne won't hear any of it, "No, son, it's more than that. You take your break in here every night. You make sure to record the game at home for me because they only have the news here. And last night, you tried to come in with a migraine, even though we both know I am the only patient you can stand right now."

Steve doesn't know what to say back. Wayne is right, of course. Steve has been spending all of his time with the man, giving him extra care. Steve isn't bad with his other patients, he goes above and beyond most of his coworkers, but there is something special about Wayne.

"You got nothing, kid, you know I'm right. Remind me a lot of my nephew. Before visiting hours ended is when I got the news of having to stay longer. Kid almost threw a fit when they kicked him out. Swore he was gonna break in to stay the night with me. I told him not to worry since you would be there, I brag about you too, ya know. When he found out today you weren't here, that boy threw a fit again. Swear he gets his tantrums from his father. Said he was gonna sneak back in tonight. Make sure I had company. That 'the man' couldn't stop him. That if he ran into you, he was gonna have a word with you."

Steve can't help the snort that shakes his body, "I'd like to see him get passed Hop first."

Wayne starts to chuckle, too, "Eds may have had his fair share of escaping the law, but no man moves as fast as Jim in a security uniform."

Steve is fully laughing now, "I know, right? It's like those pants make him aerodynamic or something. No way your nephew is getting by."

It is almost as if Steve's words summon what happens next. There in the doorway is the most gorgeous man he's ever seen, even though he is bent over and out of breath.

"Eds?" Wayne questions, clearly surprised. Steve has to mask his face and quickly before Wayne catches him ogling his nephew. Steve is finding it difficult, though. The man, Eddie, despite his out-of-breath appearance, is stunning. His long curly hair is thrown up in a bun, showing off the piercings up his ears. His clothes are simple but suiting, ripped jeans and a black band tee. Tattoos cover his entire body, and Steve wants to ask about every single one of them.

The most surprising thing about him isn't that he got by Hop (although he has questions for that later), no the most surprising thing to Steve is that Wayne somehow knew his exact type, which most people assume wrong in that department.

Eddie awakens an old craving inside Steve that he thought he had buried long ago.

"Wayne, you would not believe what I just went to get up here. The story I have for you, oh boy. You're gonna love it. Who knew security guards could move that fast. Anyway, I hope that nurse boy of yours is here tonight because I am ready to—" Eddie stops mid-rant when his eyes land on Steve, a lovely blush blossoming across his pale cheeks.

"I believe what you are trying to say is, what was it, Wayne? Oh yea, 'have a word with me,'" Steve laughs softly.

Eddie sputters, "Wayne!?!" His blushing becomes deeper as the seconds pass by.

Wayne just chuckles as Steve stands. "Don't be mad at your Uncle, I think he was just trying to make me feel better. I am sorry I wasn't here last night for the news. Got my head knocked around too much as a kid—" Steve taps his head with his knuckles, "—so I suffer from migraines sometimes. I really did try to come in, but well—you met Jim. He's pretty fast." Steve worries his lip. Eddie's eyes follow.

"Well, I can't be too mad now, can I?" Eddie swallows nervously before a smirk spreads across his face, switching from shy to confident in two seconds flat. Steve shouldn't be turned on by that. "The pretty face helps too. I'm pretty sure you could convince me to give you my kidney right about now. I'm Eddie, which I know you know by now, and you are...?"

Steve puts his hand out for a shake, "Nurse Harrington. But most people call me Steve."

Eddie grabs his hand gently and brings the back of it to his lips. "Stevie, a pleasure, really." A light kiss is placed on Steve's knuckles. Stevie, he thinks. That's a new one. And he isn't mad about it, at all. In fact, the butterflies in his stomach want him to get Eddie to say it again.

Steve catches Wayne's smug face in the corner of his eye as Steve begins to blush again.

"I'm just gonna—I'll be right back." Steve stutters.

"Leaving so soon?" Eddie says disappointed.

Steve has the sudden urge to fix the frown on his face. "No, no! Just, uh, gonna call Jim and tell him not to send out a search party. That it's okay if you stay. I'll keep an eye on you."

Eddie's face breaks out into a brilliant smile, "Really, Stevie? You gonna keep me around?"

Steve's heart skips a beat, "If I can help it."

***

#steddie #stranger things #wayne munson #modern au #wayne likes to play match maker but unlike dustin he is good at it #steve harrington #eddie munson #implied ronance #platonic stobin #nurse steve harrington #my writing #request game #steve x eddie #ficlet

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luveline · 6 months

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hiii, i just wanna say i absolutely adoreee ur writing ur amazing and fabulous. I wanted to request something with hotch where reader gets hurt pretty badly in the field and is gonna have to spend a lot of time in recovery (so like not being able to work in the field for a while) and just a lot of fluff and comforting? (thx ur the bestest ever ever ever and i <3 u i’ve been reading ur stuff for years)

love u <3 fem

Your leg is broken in four different places.

Hotch is sure you're going to cry the moment you realise what that means, but he isn't expecting for it to be a minute after you've woken up.

“We'll get you something for the pain,” a nurse promises.

“It's not that,” you say, you sob, looking between your leg and Hotch as though you're hoping he'll tell you something different.

You live for your job. They all have their reasons, and they all have their vices. You and Hotch are the same —you can't live without this. There's no alternative.

But your leg is undeniably broken.

The nurse gives him a look, hoping he'll calm you down, and he would've started the moment your eyes welled with tears if he thought he could change the outcome. Still, it breaks his heart to see you so immediately upset. He has to try something.

“It's not forever,” he says.

“How long?”

“Not forever.” The break, the surgery, the physical therapy. He asked for the estimates. He doesn't want to be the one to tell you, but you won't accept it from anyone else. “Six months.”

The broken leg isn't the end of it. Your wrist is fractured, your pinky and ring finger broken, a laceration the length of his hand up your thigh. You were concussed, you're still at risk of agitating all the things you've hurt. Your face crumples and you can't even cover it with two hands like you would. It is, admittedly, the worst you've ever been at. Hotch can't stand it.

“Would you excuse us?” he asks the nurse. “I have her.”

“Hotch,” you say as the door closes, your voice achingly unhappy, “make them check again.”

He takes your uninjured wrist. Holds it. “They've done everything they can do. I promise you, I was here for all of it. I argued against the pins, I knew they'd keep you here longer, I– against my better judgement, I sent people away because I knew you wouldn't want them to see you like this. This is the best outcome I could salvage.”

“This is the best?” you ask, shaking your head at him. “This is my life.”

You didn't see yourself. The way you'd laid there after it was over. You don't get that this is a good thing, that you weren't hurt worse. All you can see is months of desk duty, and he can't even blame you, because six months away would make him ill.

“This is the best I could do for you,” he says, rubbing your wrist with his thumb. “I'm sorry.”

His apology catches you off guard. You make a sound near a hiccup and turn to him completely, the fat body of a tear dripping down your cheek to your chin, where it stays. He can see the question before you've asked it and he won't make you, either, leaning down to cover you up with his arms, his chin atop your head. “I'm sorry, honey. I know how much it means to you.”

“It's…” Your good arm works around him weakly, a hesitant touch to his back. “Not your fault. I…”

He lets you fade, rubbing at the top of your arm, enthusing you with as much warmth as he can. “Six months recovery doesn't mean six months out of the field,” he promises. “In two months you'll be walking. It won't feel as long as you're thinking.”

“In a boot.”

In a full cast, poor thing. He frowns, pressing his nose into your head. “You can consult from home just as soon as you're home,” he says softly, still rubbing your arm. The touch turns to a gentle stroking, his palm numb to the ticklish sensation your naked arm brings, the sleeve of your hospital gown bunching with each line he makes.

“I know you're unhappy, but it will heal. And you have an army of people who can't wait to see you. We… things have been complicated.”

“How long was I out?” you ask.

“You were awake between surgeries, but it's been two days.”

You hug him with more insistence. “Thanks for looking after me,” you whisper.

Oh, sweetheart, he could say. He could kiss your crown. Honestly, Hotch could take your face into his hands and suddenly he is, he's holding your face and looking down at you, eyes dark and sorry to your silvery tears.

He strokes your cheek. “It'll be alright,” he promises.

You dissolve into tears again in his hands. He wipes them away as they come, for as long as they will. It's the least he'd do for you.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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gr1mstar · 3 months

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CUTE AS A KITTEN - LnD

notes: this was a request but i accidentally deleted the request anon 😭 i’m sorry. if you see this i hope you like it tho!

contains: love and deepspace boys x reader, awkward reader, sfw, fluff

ZAYNE ☃️

sometimes you were awkward around zayne, but not because he was a tough person to talk with, but because you were too shy to be as clingy as you want.

sitting in his office, waiting for him to come back from a patient he had to consult, you were playing with your fingers. you wanted to ask him to spend the night at your place, knowing that he had a day off the next day, but you didn’t know how to approach him.

“something on your mind, love?” you heard his voice, seeing his figure entering the office.

he was wearing his white hospital robe, that looked too sexy on him. if you had the balls, you would jump on him.

“no.. i mean. kinda. i don’t know.” you answered, looking at the floor again.

seeing you this awkward, zayne made his way to you and crouched in a way that he could sit in front of you. he sighed, then stated:

“tell me. you know it’s not good for you to keep all your emotions hidden. please don’t do that. not with me.”

and so you asked him about your plan, and he agreed, saying: “you were afraid to ask me that?”

seeing you so happy he decided you deserved to sit on his lap while he was reviewing some blood samples, cuddling you for a few minutes while his shift was slowly ending.

XAVIER 🔅

he knows how much you struggle to express yourself, so he tries to be there for you and make it easier. so when he saw you playing with your hands wanting to say something he already knew that you wanted a lu bit of affection.

but he didn’t force you to talk with him. he knew better than that, so he waited and when he saw that you were not going to talk about what’s bothering you, he decided to take the matter into his own hands.

“you want to spend the night?” he asked, putting his arm around your waist, making you be closer to him.

“but you’re busy… and tired.” you responded, eyes on the floor.

“i know sweetheart, but i need you more. i need you cuddles.”

and so you slept at his place, cuddling and kissing all night.

you felt safe with xavier, knowing that he was patient with you and loved you. so little by little you started to be more bold.

“you are cute as a kitten”

RAFAYEL 🐟

he knew that awkward side of you bothered you, so he tried not to make fun of you. too much :)

he still did. every time you would stammer he would laugh, not in a mean way, but just because you were too cute. he would kiss you right after, saying that you are adorable.

“what did you say? i didn’t hear you”

he didn’t push you too much though, he was very gentle with you.

as for physical affection, he already is very clingy, hugging and kissing you 24/7. he likes to see you blush and then tease you about it.

“you’re so cute.”

he would try to make you to say what do you want him to do. like: “i want you to kiss me” or “please spend the night with me” because he wants to help you in the same time.

fish jokes. “even a fish is more straight forward than you.”

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esoteric-chaos · 4 months

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Safety in Witchcraft

What’s not talked about enough in the spiritual community is mundane safety along with spiritual. Critical thinking is vital. I wanted to share a lot of my personal rules for myself that I have adapted into my craft.

Fire safety, never leave an open flame unattended. Ever. Always burn in an open enough area with a fire safe dish or on ceramic tile away from animals and children. If you leave the room extinguish the flame. Do not sleep with fire going. I know we want to keep that spell going even during a nap but sometimes we don’t wake up in time for danger. This is absolutely vital to keep you safe. It won’t ruin a spell I promise or anger anything. Please do not add those herbs to that candle. I know it’s nice and pretty but that is a fire hazard. Stay safe.

On that note always have an open window or a well ventilated area when burning items. That goes for herbs, incense, or candle. Smoke inhalation can ruin your lungs.

Rodents, reptiles, birds, any animal is sensitive to scents and have small respiratory systems. Be careful using anything around them. Research what can be used around them. I mean research! Cross reference. Use veterinarian hospital guides, not pro essential oil blogs. Please don’t put any essential oils on your pets. They can be seriously harmed.

Moon water actually molds, very easily. So can herbal blends if not stored correctly. Check frequently and use before end of date. Distilled water is your friend to prolongs shelf-life along is storing in a cold dark place.

Witchcraft and magic is not a replacement for medical treatment and medically prescribed medication. It absolutely can aid your treatment but it is never a replacement.

Do not ingest any herbal remedies without consultation with your doctor and/or Herbalist. Especially if you have pre-existing conditions and need to take medications for it. Things can conflict and are deadly.

Also forage responsibly. Unless you are 100% certain what you have foraged is the correct plant. Don’t even chance it. It’s not worth sickness or in worst cases death.

Do NOT ingest essential oils. I don’t care what you have heard from pro essential oil pages. The distillery methods are not safe for ingestion. It can tear up your stomach lining and throat. Cause extreme nausea and vomiting. Seizures and in worst cases death.

Some covens and practitioners are not your friends. Be cautious and use stranger danger. Be cautious and never give out all of your personal information online. There are predatory people everywhere, including in this community. Please be safe. Always use your gut instinct.

Please feel free in the comments and tags to add important safety pointers you have.

#witchcraft #witch #witchblr #tw death #paganism #essential oils #herbalism #witchcraft safety tips

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cevansbrat0007 · 10 days

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Hello, Duchess

Summary: Your first encounter with Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson, goes worse than you ever could've imagined. Takes place directly after the events in New in Town.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Implied Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s P.O.V.

“Can’t believe this town actually has a real live bookstore.” Ari muses as he pulls up in front of the tiny, quaint-looking bookstore. “Fuckin’ wild.” Throwing his truck in park he takes a moment to survey the area, making note of the empty lot.

‘Must not do much business.’ He thinks before climbing out of his vehicle and confidently striding toward the door. Hopefully, the lack of an audience would make things flow a hell of a lot faster. Hell, if you were anything like some of the other women in this town, he’d probably just have to smile and flash his baby blues to convince you to spill your guts.

In fact, he was practically banking on it. Because this wasn’t Ari’s first rodeo – not by a long shot. He’d spent a lot of his life in and out of small towns like Bell’s Creek, which was part of the reason he couldn’t wait to bag his latest bounty and put this place, and its people, in his rearview mirror. Ari reaches for the handle on the door, only to frown when he gets a look at the sign hanging in the window that reads: “sorry, we’re closed”.

Well, that couldn’t be right.

He could’ve sworn that when he’d pressed Mrs. Turner, the First Lady of Calvary Baptist Church, about your whereabouts she’d said he’d be able to find you at your shop. Something about your preferring to work instead of resting and rejoicing on the Lord’s day.

While the bounty hunter supposed he could always try back tomorrow, he was keen to check you off his list. Refusing to admit defeat, he decides to try his luck anyway, only to be surprised when the door opens with a tinkling chime of a bail.

Confused but also now on high alert, Ari takes a tentative step inside as he looks for any sign of life. “Hello?” He calls out, finally allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Instinct has him reaching for his back pocket, checking to make sure he had brought along his firearm.

Just in case.

“Is anybody here?” He tries again, moving further into the shop. The place is clean and well lit, and boasts rack after rack of books. But what’s most impressive is that there doesn’t appear to be a speck of dust anywhere. “Look, I just came by to–”

“We’re closed!” A disembodied voice sounds from the back of the store.

“Yeah, I saw the sign, ma’am…” He clears his throat. “But I think you forgot to lock the door, so I –”

“That means get out!”

“So much for southern hospitality.” Ari grumbles under his breath as he continues on his mission to track down the owner of the voice. “Ma’am, I just wanna talk. And maybe–ahh shit!” He curses when his hip accidentally connects with a half-full rolling cart, sending several of the heavier books crashing to the ground. “Sorry!”

“Did you just break something?!” The voice suddenly screeches. “Don’t make me get my taser.”

“There’s no need for that.” Instead of picking them up, the bounty hunter hastily nudges them aside with his foot. “My name is Ari Levinson, and I’m just here to ask you a couple of questions.”

While this isn’t how the man had expected any of this to go, he’s relieved when he sees a familiar face peek at him from around the corner. A face that happened to be even more beautiful than he initially remembered. Even though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen you last.

Damn! It was as if the image of you in that dress taking up space at the other end of the pew was now permanently imprinted into his brain. He'd have to tread lightly here.

Otherwise things could get complicated. Fast.

Your P.O.V

“Pretty sure this is what law enforcement calls trespassing.” You sniff, craning your head around the corner to stare at the man who was taking up entirely too much space in the narrow hallway. Sure said man was easy on the eyes, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little concerned about his apparent inability to read.

“I can assure you that’s not what this is.” The lawman holds up his palms in an effort to placate you.

And although you try not to stare, it’s impossible to miss just how big they are – how rough they seemed – with just the right amount of callus. You can’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like on your bare flesh.

“Then what is it?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone short and clipped as you emerge from your hiding place. The last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were actually attracted to him.

If anything, you considered yourself to be curious. No harm there, right?

“As I said, my name is Ari Levinson. I’m a bounty hunter from just outside Rosewell, New Mexico who also occasionally moonlights as a private investigator.” He tells you, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I just stopped by to ask you a couple of questions. And while I didn’t necessarily mean to intrude, I figured you might appreciate me taking a more delicate approach on account of your relationship with my person of interest.”

Fucking Martin Westbrook. He’d been the bane of your existence ever since you’d first crossed paths back in high school.

“I know you’re looking for Martin.” Annoyed by the very nature of the conversation, you pick up a box, hefting it onto your hip so that you can carry it out to the sales floor. “But I’m not quite sure how much help I can be.”

You brush past him, inwardly smiling when he scrambles to get out of your way. It was a subtle reminder that this was your shop. And you absolutely refused to be intimidated by him or anyone else.

“I’m sure whatever you have to say will be plenty helpful.” He’s quick to reassure you as he turns to follow the path you set. “Provided you’re honest, that is.”

“Did you really just waltz into my shop and call me a liar, Mr. Levinson?”

“I meant no offense.” Ari coughs, scrubbing a weary hand over his bearded jaw. If you were the overly presumptuous type, you might think you’d just managed to fluster the poor man.

Now feeling extra prickly, you drop the box onto the far counter of your cashwrap before turning to face your unwelcome guest. “As you can see, I have a busy day’s work ahead of me. And I was really keen on doing it by myself.” You gesture at the array of other boxes and racks placed around the store. “So if we could get a move on, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Gladly.” He gives a brief look around. “Is there some place maybe where you and I can sit and chat?”

“I’d say here is about as good a place as any.” You tell him as you step behind the counter. Bending down, you snag a bottle of cleaner, along with a couple of rags. If this man insisted on being here, then he would just have to deal with you taking care of your business. “I’m pretty confident in my ability to multitask.”

Nodding along, Ari pulls out a small notepad and pen from his back pocket. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Westbrook?”

You let out a sigh as you begin to spray down your countertops with your all-purpose cleaner. While you supposed you could’ve gone with something a little more industrial, you were partial to the way this particular brand’s products always smelled.

“I don’t know.” You shrug as you bask in the scent of rose and cedar. “Maybe three, four weeks ago.”

“Do you happen to recall the day and time?”

“No. Not really. If I had to ballpark it, I’d guess sometime around the 5th of last month.” You move to the next flat surface, spraying it down just like the last.

“You sure about that?” You try not to let it irk you when you see him take a seat on a nearby step stool out of the corner of your eye.

“As much as I can be.”

“And did Mr. Westbrook happen to give you any indication of where he might be headed?”

“Nope.”

He’d been nervous though. That much you did recall. By the time he’d come to you that night, your old friend had been well beyond spooked.

“Did he give you his reason for leaving?”

“We didn’t…” You trail off, taking a moment to scrub at a particularly stubborn sticky spot that’s marring the wood. “There wasn’t really much time for talking.” You’re so concerned with scrubbing that you miss the way the county hunter’s eyes narrow as he studies you. “He just stopped over to say goodbye.”

And to borrow all the cash you happened to have on hand – to the tune of $500. Enough for a bus ticket and a couple nights in a dirt cheap motel.

“Right.” Ari scoffs, admittedly with a bit more heat than he intends. “Not a lot of time for talking.” He pauses briefly to drag a hand through his shaggy brown locks. “Not sure why I didn’t wanna believe them.”

“Am I sensing a problem, Mr. Levinson?” You hum, tossing your rag to the side in favor of focusing on the rugs.

“I guess I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he kept you in the dark about his plans.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “In my experience, most men like Martin tend to have loose lips around the women they’re fuckin’.”

In that moment, it’s almost as if you can feel the air go out of the room. Just who the fuck did this knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather think he was?

“Excuse me?” Those two little words are spoken through clenched teeth. You’re so taken aback by his brazen accusation that you can scarcely breathe, let alone think.

Ari simply quirks a tawny brow at you, seemingly unaware of the danger he’s just placed himself in. Did he not see how close your hand was to that damned stapler? While it was clear that folks in this town had been running their mouths, they’d apparently neglected to mention that you’d also been the star pitcher for your high school softball team.

“Apologies if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Duchess. But I’ve never been the type to beat around the bush. Besides…” The smug bastard tucks his pen behind his ear. “You have to know that people in this town like to talk.”

Fire simmers hot in your belly, as you come out from behind the register. It takes less than ten seconds for you to bridge the distance between yourself and the cocky lawman. While you might’ve been taught never to raise a hand against anyone, this man was sorely testing every last bit of your patience.

“I want to make one thing very, very clear.” You hiss once you’re finally standing toe-to-toe with the handsome interloper who, of course, makes no room to get up himself. “I have never – not even once – slept with Martin Westbrook. He’s a friend, you backwoods jackass. Something you clearly know nothing about.”

“I get the feeling I struck a nerve.”

And, judging by the newfound tick in his jaw, so had you. Except you had no way of knowing it was because he’d lost a buddy of his own a little while back.

“And I think it’s about time you got the hell out of my shop.” His piercing blue eyes fly to yours, letting you know that you’d managed to surprise him with your heated dismissal.

Good. Because this Ari Levinson fella had officially overstayed his welcome.

“Look, Duchess. I apolo –”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me out of my name, Mr. Levinson. And I’m not sure I appreciate it.” You spit as you take a step backwards with the intention of giving him enough space to stand. “Now, I’ve been nothing but amenable to your rather…invasive questions. But we’re done. So, I’m gonna have to insist that you leave.”

Before you decided he’d make a deserving candidate for death by a thousand paper cuts.

Your pulse continues to thrum in your ears as you watch him rise to his full height – an impressive 6’4 – so that he now towers over you. Perhaps if you weren’t so angry you’d be a little more tempted to allow your mind to wander a little farther into the realm of fantasy.

But not now.

Right now, in this moment, all you wanted was to watch Ari Levinson’s sculpted ass walk right out your front door.

Nodding, the now quiet bounty hunter begins moving in the direction of the entrance. Neither of you say a word as you make that quick walk. In fact, you don’t speak again until Ari’s hand is on the handle.

“For what it's worth…” He blows out a weary breath. “This wasn’t how I meant for this to go.” His eyes find yours, as if imploring you to see the truth in them.

However, instead of responding all you can do is offer up a shrug. Which he, of course, takes as an opportunity to keep going.

“It’s just…the idea of someone like you getting caught up with a piece of slime like Westbrook…” He pauses long enough to open the door and take a tentative step outside. “I guess it bothered me more than I realized.”

His reluctant admission has your stomach tied up in knots, which prompts you to ask the one question you were almost certain you’d regret later:

“And just what do you mean by that?” You do your best to seem unruffled as you awkwardly brace yourself against the doorframe.

“All I’m saying is that you’re out of his league.” Feeling even more confused, you watch as Ari’s lips curve in a faint smile. “And if you didn’t know that before, well, now you do.” His head dips politely as he turns to head towards his truck.

“Guess I’ll see you around, Duchess.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock up. Might help with all those unwanted visitors you’ve been havin.”

Ari doesn't need to turn his head to know that you're currently giving him the finger. He can feel it. And all it does it make him smile harder.

END

Sweet Renegade Series Tag List

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@hisredheadedgoddess28

@blackhawkfanatic

@jamneuromain

@queerqueenlynn

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rose-lunaire · 11 months

Note

Hi!! How you think Hannibal and Will (separate) in a situation where the reader is a nurse and for some reason she finds with them and both falls madly in love with her? Like they follow her, admired her and simply adore her??

brace yourselves, ‘cause it’s gonna be a long one! thank you so much for this idea, i had a great time writing this, enjoy <3

pairing: wiill graham x reader, hannibal lecter x reader

warnings: stalking themes, a lot of blood and inaccurate medical descriptions

(Y/B/T - your blood type)

hannibal lecter

it was a really nasty case, bodies carelessly abandoned in a forest, like a beast haven’t finished feasting on them

by the time hannibal and will arrived, it had already turned into a bloodbath

the culprit, ambushed in his agony, shot at the fbis weakest link: the two consultants

the older man suffered a concussion and wills leg was repeatedly pierced by bullets

it was jack who rushed the to the hospital, knowing damn well it would take hours for any ambulance to arrive

hannibal kept insisting he’s fine, but the policeman was having none of it

he collapsed on the hospital floor

the man woke up to the rhythmic sounds of the operational room: monotone beeping, a clock idly signaling its presence

“you gave us quite the scare, doctor lecter”

a soft timbre brought his closer to consciousness, but an excruciating headache soon followed

torn between slumber and awareness, he groaned quietly

“doctor lecter? can you hear me, doctor lecter?”

the voice soothed his aching body, poured life and yearning into his soul

he squinted his eyes, as from a blur of white light came to life an angel

hair of raphael’s venus, rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes worthy of rubens’s paintbrush, steady and powerful pose of velasquez’s infants

they were perfect like doryphoros or artemis of versailles, sculpted by apollonius himself

the stoic warmth radiating from their eyes couldn’t compare to debussy’s finest works

hannibal felt the sudden urge to take this light with him and never let go

to protect and worship it like gods of ancient times

his killings are not in vain, they are a token of adoration, a promise for a better world

for them

for so the angel wouldn’t have to suffer existing in between such impure souls

he’s always on the lookout for any people in their environment who might have foul intentions

he’s eternally great full to have met them and shows his feelings in subtle ways, like leaving home-cooked meals for them, a note full of gratitude always attached to the gift

he once used his connections to move them to a different department, so that they wouldn’t have to work so hard

they’re his muse, his god(ddes) and he’s just a lowly apostle

he wouldn’t dare bring them into his world, it was too cruel, too dangerous for such a radiant creature

but believe me, he’s always there, a loyal knight guarding their safety and happiness

will graham

he was losing a lot of blood

one of the bullets came through his leg, cutting through his aorta and no amount of pressure could stop the bleeding

his mind was getting fuzzy, but still stuck in painful awareness

he remembered having been sat on a bed, the sting of a needle and helplessness in the voice of a surgeon

“we don’t have enough type y/b/t blood for the operation”

as the anesthesia was wearing out, will felt an unfamiliar presence next to him

calm and unsuspecting, a nurse was sleeping in the corner of the operation room

he finds himself attached to a blood transfusion set

will rested his head in his hands, tired and almost ashamed

the nurse had their sleeve harshly tugged on the forearm with a welt straining their delicate skin

he perceives himself as repulsive and unworthy, yet they gave up their own blood without any hesitation

he’s deeply moved by their dedication

he can’t seem to draw his eyes away

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to stare” - he panicked

“don’t worry about it”

they were graceful even in exhaustion, it send chills down wills spine

maybe it was a crease they a smile painted on their face or the eyes scrunched in kindness and warmth, he didn’t know but in that moment he fell in love

he would ask a million questions about the equipment and the surgery, then their daily life and work

it brought him peace and reassurance and the conversation seemed to flow naturally for hours

after he left the hospital, he often called them

a confusing wound? he calls. a drug found on the scene? he calls. hannibal is hosting a dinner party? he calls every time

his heart is desperate for closure and they provided it, never asking questions, just being there for him

there was one time when a dog got severe diarrhea and vomited a lot, and will was scared it may be parvo or other dangerous dog disease

he called almost immediately, for help and comfort of his favorite person

after this incident he became paranoid when they weren’t around, so he does everything in his power to keep them at arms length

will means no harm, but he simply can’t imagine his life without them

#hannibal x reader #hannibal imagine #nbc hannibal #will graham #will graham x reader #murder husbands #yandere hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal reactions #bedelia du maurier #hannibal preferences #hannibal headcanons #hannibal fluff #hannibal #mads mikkelsen

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mydear-corinthian · 7 days

Text

Rivals || Jonathan Crane x reader

Synopsis: You and Crane are both fighting for the asylum's new head of the psychologist department. Pairing: Jonathan Crane x reader / Jonathan Crane x psych! reader / Scarecrow x reader Warnings: SMUT +18, unprotected sex, p in v, rivalry Notes: RUSHED, there will be lots of grammatical errors. Click here to see the MAIN MASTERLIST Click here to see the CILLIAN MURPHY MASTERLIST

Today is the important day of your career. The head medical chief will now announce who will be the head of the psychology department.

You were working for nearly 5 years in Gotham's asylum, Arkham Asylum. You've seen many patients; juveniles, sadists, serial killers, and other more. It wasn't easy at first but slowly, you got the hang of it, being able to adjust the unusual environment of the hospital.

You had barely any interaction with anyone else when you were an intern except for Jonathan Crane. He was your age, a fellow psychologist committed to helping Arkham Asylum's needy patients. Your relationship with Crane developed with shared experiences and shared loyalty, creating a firm connection during the psychological obstacles of the asylum.

The pressure between you and Crane was intense and serious considering there were just the two of you. You will both keep track of the number of patients you see each day, the number of consultations and interviews you do, and of course, the journey toward becoming the department head of psychology.

Now, the both of you standing in front of the head chief resident, waiting for him to announce the result.

Even though you appeared calm and collected on the outside, there was a stream of anxiousness running through you. Jonathan Crane was just as calm as you were, but in opposite to you, he was so confident and at relaxed that there was no trace of nervousness.

"Doctor Crane, Doctor (Y/n), I want to say that the both of you did a wonderful job here as Arkham's psychology resident. I saw both of your performance since your first day and I can see the massive progress that you guys done for the past 5 years," the head chief resident said, lowering down the papers that contained both of your performances and records.

"Thank you, chief." a smile was plastered on your face as you thanked the chief resident.

"You both did an excellent job. I hereby congratulate our new chief..," the chief resident slowly announced, making your heart flutter, a wave of anxiety rushed over your spine.

"Doctor Jonathan Crane,"

Your eyes widened. You looked at your workmate, his eyes glowing as he shook the hands of the chief resident, thanking him.

You were left cashing by the shock that went through you like a voltage, and your hopes were buried in a deep sense of disappointment. A dream set back in the face of unexpected defeat, the pain of longing for this desired position, grown throughout your time at Arkham, suddenly seemed to resonate down the corridors of your mind.

Jealousy was starting to spin all over you as you shook Crane's delicate hand, muttering a 'congratulations'. You left the office after, giving the both of them privacy as they started a new conversation about Crane's new responsibilities and duties to the hospital.

Your gloomy walk echoed through the asylum's corridors. You immediately walked to your office and harshly opened and closed the door.

"What the fuck!" you yelled loudly in frustration Your palms curled up together like a ball. "What the fuck do you mean that Jonathan got the position and not me?" slapping your wooden table harshly as you threw a big tantrum.

"Fuck you, Jonathan!"

Good thing that your office was soundproof so all the staffs and patients passing by won't hear a single sound of you bursting into frustration.

Your tantrum stopped when you heard a knock on your office's door. Assuming it was the head chief resident, you fixed your hair and your outside, composing yourself.

You opened the door with a smile but it was gone after you see who it was-- Jonathan Crane.

"What are you doing here, Crane?" you spitted, your arms folding each other on your chest.

"May I come in?" he asked.

"Fine," you groaned in annoyance, opening the door widely so he can enter your lightly-dimmed office.

He scanned your office, looking at the picture frames on the hanged shelf, books that were neatly stored beside your frames, and your Ph.D and awards that hanged over the white walls of the office.

"Now, what do you want, Crane?" you asked again, sitting in front of the wooden table, both arms still locked in your chest together, your eyes piercing through his.

"I just want to congratulate you for having the chance to compete for the position," he teased, a small grin plastered on his soft cheeks.

"Oh fuck off, Jonathan. Yeah, I got it, you got the position," you rolled your eyes, getting angry and annoyed every time Crane breathes.

"Won't you congratulate me, (Y/n)?" he asked, moving closer and closer to you, until your faces were only centimetres apart.

"Fuck no! Just go and flex your position to somebody else because I don't care about you,"

Your response made him chuckle. He took a deep breath as he adjusted his clear eyeglasses. "Mhm, I don't think so. You care about me. You have feelings for me, don't you?"

Your eyes grew wide at what he said. Was he aware that you like him? He's your rival, and you were beginning to feel something for him. He's a perfect man - well for you. He's good looking, smart, and works with you but you kept it as a secret, ashamed that you're in love with someone you compete with. His words caused you blushing leaving you speechless.

"I - What? Funny, Jonathan. I don't even like yo-"

"Not according to your journal here," he cut you off, he took a small brown notebook out of the pocket of his blazer, showing it you.

Then you realized what it was: it's your missing journal book. You remembered leaving it at your desk a week ago but after that, it just suddenly disappeared like that. You kept on finding it, you searched everywhere, your apartment, your bag, your office, your cabinets: none.

"Where'd you get that! Give it back!" you gasped, attempting to grab it from his hand but he sways his arm back further away.

"God look at this. You were imagining stuffs like this huh? Lusty images and scenarios of me," he teased, opening the journal and scanned the pages.

"Fuck you, Jonathan," you cursed.

"If that's what you want," he said before he crashed his lips to yours. Tasting every spot in your lips. You gasped at the sudden action but it was true, you fantasized about this.

You returned the passionate kiss, wrapping your arms over his neck and then his now messy hair, pushing your lips deeper to him.

His tongue traveled deeper into your tempting mouth, the passionate kiss becoming more messier and messier. His hand held tightly to your delicate body, pulling you closer him. Your lips softly moaned, each one begging for the kiss to get even hotter and more intense. You could feel the heat building as you both gave in to the burning desire that was dominating over.

Crane's lips started to trail down on your neck, kissing the sweet and sensitive spots all over, earning a loud moan from you.

"You know, I fantasized about this too," he confessed, sucking your sweet spot that will likely leave a mark. Your back arched, your cunt getting more and more wet. "It's just that I don't write about it."

"Oh god, Jonathan," you moaned. His hands found your tight long sleeve shirt, unbuttoning it one by one. Crane tossed your shirt on the floor, continuing kissing you.

"Look at you. So fucking sexy," he said, your breasts now exposed after he unhook your bra only using two of his fingers.

Crane's trousers stretched out revealing his bulge and how he was hard already. In not much time at all, you unfastened his belt and took off his underwear, causing his hard cock to spring out, pre-cum leaking all over it.

"See what you did to me?"

"I need you, Jonathan," you begged, showing how wet you were when you removed your trousers. Your black panties were now stained with wetness.

He removed your panties with his soft hands before aligning his cock into your hole. "So wet for me, huh?" his tip teasing your wet and impatient hole as you moaned softly.

"Please.." you begged, getting more and more impatient.

He slowly entered you, earning a low grunt from him. Stretching your small hole as you took him.

"You're so tight, fuck," he cursed, starting his pace slow. His cock pushing in and out of your needy cunt, letting you a loud moan.

"Is this what you imagine me doing to you? Fucking you? Taking my cock?" he asked, his hands gripped your hips harshly as his pace fastened. A small dash of sweat was starting to form on his forehead as he grunt out loud from the sensation.

"Yes - oh god, Jonathan!" moaning, your eyes shut as you rolled your head back, taking him deeper and deeper. Allowing him to penetrate all the sensitive spots down there.

All you experienced was nothing but pleasure. You felt a rush feeling of thrill wash over you, seeing only sparkles. A huge mess was made as your skin flapped loudly, the table moved around, and some of your materials items fell off the table.

"Look at me while I'm fucking you, sweetheart." Crane hissed, harshly gripping your jaw to make you look at him.

His pace was immeasurable. The sound of his and your skin slapping together echoed inside the room as you let out a series of pornographic moans.

"Good thing your office is soundproofed," he laughed. "You don't want them to hear you moan while I fuck you, huh?"

Crane's right hand gripped your thighs, giving him support as he fucked you harshly.

In a short while, you felt your orgasm starting to form. Your legs trembling as you locked his back with it, allowing him to penetrate deeper at your sensitive spots.

His icy-like eyes met yours, mesmerizing him. His eyes. His mouth. His jaw line. Everything, admiring him.

"Jo - Jonathan, I'm close.." you breath shaking, feeling your orgasm coming near and nearer.

"Yeah? Come then, cum on my cock, love," his pace remained fast. His grunts were getting louder and louder.

After a few more thrusts, your orgasm came and so did his, staining the inside of walls with his seed as he came inside. The both of you continuously let out a few grunts and moans while reaching your high.

He didn't pulled out until every drop of his cum pours inside of you. The both of you pant hard, your cunt clenching on his hard cock.

"I like you, Jonathan," you confessed.

"Oh sweetheart, you belong to me," he said, pulling out slowly before he kissed you again but this time he did it passionately.

"I'm still mad at you for getting my desired position," you admitted, glaring at his sweet features as he chuckled with your response.

"Well, I can request the chief to make 2 psychologist the heads of our department," he remarked. "But before that, let me.. enjoy what belongs to me."

#jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow #scarecrow smut #scarecrow x reader #batman #x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut

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doctorbeth · 2 years

Text

Thunder the horse

The best kind of Thunder is the kind you can hug, and that's what Thunder the horse is. :-)

His actual name is Black Thunder, but his person always called him Thunder for short. Thunder was only 18 years old when his person wrote for a consult, but in addition to being a major hug target, he was actually a world traveler who had gone all the way to Japan (which is pretty far for a 24" horse!).

Here are some of his diagnosis photos:

Thunder originally was a pillow for a sleeping bag, so he had some soft velcro patches on his belly. Those were fine His feet were originally velour, now worn smooth, and his bald spots were the result of his aiding his human with her anxiety in the past. So... he had some areas of concern. But he had been different colors for so long, his person didn't want transplants to all be exact matches. He wouldn't look like Thunder if he was too close to new! But he did need some stabilization.

We had an initial treatment plan of a spa and large bald spot treatment for Thunder, but as you can see... it was hard to see his hooves clearly in the photos, so we agreed to reevaluate them once he arrived.

When Thunder arrived at the hospital a bit later and it was quite clear his hooves were threadbare. So fully recovering them in new velour was added to his treatment plan.

As with any patient planning a spa, that was where his treatment began. Here he is in his bubble bath:

Once dry, he got restuffed and had a small heart with original stuffing. The heart was red and black, to honor his full name. :-)

Then it was time to choose furs... his person opted for a white for the transplants, since it was going in areas that were originally black. That way, it still matched his personality, but showed his past. We used black velour to redo his hooves. Here he is all better:

Thunder's person wrote:

I’m sure you hear this every time you send finished pictures, but I teared up when I saw him!! He looks absolutely marvelous, I don’t even have the words to say how much. I love his new hooves, and thank you for patching him up in white, it really means a lot to me...thank you again, a thousand times over. ^_^

So Thunder flew home to Florida, and his person wrote:

he looks even better in person! He hasn’t been this firm and well stuffed since I was a little girl, and his new hooves are just wonderful. I’m so glad to have my favorite snuggle pillow back. Thank you so much.

Next up... a Yes No Monkey.

#stuffed animal repair #stuffed animal cleaning #toy horse #horses #stuffed animals #stuffed animal #stuffed animal hospital #stuffed animal restoration

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queenshelby · 3 months

Text

Our Little Secret (Part 20)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity

The following day, at around 2.30pm in the afternoon, you arrived at the doctor's office where Cillian was already waiting for you in front of the building, smiling at you nervously.

"Hey," you said almost shyly, your heart pounding in your chest. "You're early," you noted as you approached him delicately, not wanting to disturb the fragile equilibrium between you two.

"Yeah, I couldn't wait to meet our baby," Cillian assured you, his gaze meeting yours earnestly. "I'm nervous, but I can't wait to see her," he added, his voice quivering slightly.

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for him. "Me too," you agreed. "But the appointment isn't until 3 o'clock, which means that we will just be waiting around," you then chuckled quietly, seeing that both of you struggled with your nerves.

"True," Cillian concurred, his gaze wandering aimlessly over the bustling street. "Do you fancy grabbing a coffee or something while we wait?" he wondered aloud, his voice conveying sincerity.

"No, lets just go inside. I feel a little nauseous," you replied, swaying delicately on your feet as Cillian offered you his arm. "Besides, I am pretty sure we will need to register anyway. I only ever went to the public hospital before for my consultations and no doubt there will be forms to fill in," you mentioned, trying to distract yourself from the overwhelming anxiety you suddenly experienced.

"Alright," Cillian agreed, leading you through the entrance of the medical facility. Once inside, the receptionist recognized Cillian right away. He had arranged this appointment for you in advance and she greeted you warmly, guiding you towards the elevator. "Go ahead and take the lift to the second floor," she instructed, her gaze resting on you with warmth and kindness.

"One of the obstetric nurses will greet you upon arrival and show you to a private waiting area, just as requested," she added, her smile lighting up her face.

"Thank you," you mumbled politely, exchanging a meaningful glance with Cillian before stepping into the elevator. The doors closed silently behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the small space. Your heart raced wildly in your chest, and you could sense the tension crackling between you. You glanced at Cillian, noticing the slight flush in his cheeks. His gaze held a mix of apprehension and excitement, mirroring your own feelings.

But a blush on his face wasn't the only thing you noticed. You also noticed a little bruise on his neck and chuckled. "Big night?" you asked, your gaze lingering on the faint bruise marring the side of his neck. It looked suspiciously similar to the mark left by a passionate kiss.

Cillian shifted uncomfortably under your scrutiny, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Oh, um, yeah," he muttered awkwardly, averting his gaze nervously. "I had a few drinks last night," he confessed, his voice cracking slightly. "And, uh, well, you know how it goes sometimes," he trailed off, his words ending in a hushed whisper.

"Uh huh," you rolled your eyes playfully and, whilst you desperately wanted to know who the woman was that he was with, you decided to respect his privacy. After all, you were not together and he did not owe you an explanation.

Besides, it was none of your business, you told yourself, trying to focus on the ultrasound appointment rather than on the intimate mark on his neck.

You stepped out of the elevator onto the second floor, both of you remaining silent as you followed the nurse's direction towards the private waiting area. Cillian broke the silence, however, as soon as you entered the room.

"Would you like me to get you some water?"

Cillian asked, his eyes darting nervously around the room. "I think I saw a fountain somewhere near the elevators," he continued, offering to fetch you a drink.

"No thank you," you declined graciously, a hint of teasing mirrored in your gaze. "I am actually feeling a lot better now. It's just nerves I think," you admitted, seeing that, at your age, you had never really planned to be a mother.

"I am nervous too, Y/N. I never," he began to stammer, recalling the losses he had experienced with his ex-wife Danielle, and their struggles with infertility before Max was born, the child he loved but who wasn't his biological son. "I never expected to become a father after what Danielle and I have gone through, you know?" he finished in a hushed whisper, his gaze fixed on your stomach.

"I know," you encouraged him, sensing his inner turmoil. "But everything will be fine this time around. I have a good feeling about this and our daughter will be loved, cherished, and cared for. We are going to embrace parenthood together, in our own way, just as we have discussed," you smiled reassuringly, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah," Cillian replied, his voice filled with uncertainty. "I hope so," he told you as his thoughts wandered to his fractured relationship with Danielle and the lingering pain of their failed union.

He recalled the years invested in therapy, attempting to salvage their marriage, only to confront the reality of irreversible damage. He knew that he had grown distant from Danielle, yet the ache of their broken bond lingered within him.

"So," Cillian began cautiously, his gaze darting around the sterile room as he tried to get his failed marriage out of his head. "Did you think of any names?" Cillian asked tentatively, trying to change the subject.

"A couple," you answered, turning your attention back to him. "I have been reading some old books I found in the attic of the new house, and I was thinking of naming her 'Mara'. As you probably already know, it is an old Irish name meaning 'sea'. And I think it suits a baby girl born from an ocean of chaos rather well," you explained, your gaze drifting dreamily toward the window.

Cillian considered this, his brow furrowing in thought. "That's quite poetic," he remarked, his voice conveying admiration.

"I like it," he added, his gaze shifting back to you. "I like it a lot," he emphasized, his voice thick with emotion.

You beamed triumphantly, feeling a surge of pride for your creative suggestion. "Thank you, Cillian," you chuckled. "I am glad you approve," you murmured softly, your fingers tracing the gently formed curve of your belly.

"Well, it's a lovely name," Cillian agreed, his gaze lingering on your midsection with tender fondness. "It has a certain ring to it," he added, his voice conveying genuine appreciation.

"Thank you," you replied sincerely, a warm glow enveloping you. "I think Mara is perfect for our little girl," you affirmed, your heart swelling with emotion.

As the minutes ticked by, the air in the waiting room grew heavy with anticipation. You fidgeted uneasily and Cillian took your hand into his, providing reassurance you so desperately needed.

Finally, the door opened discreetly, and a nurse beckoned you both inside the examination room. "Mrs Y/LN, Mr Murphy, please follow me," she announced politely, gesturing for you to enter the dimly lit space before asking you to lay down on the examination table.

"Mr Murphy, please take a seat next to the examination table," she instructed, pointing to a chair beside the table. "You will both be able to see your little bundle of joy on the screen up here once we are set up," she added, indicating towards monitors mounted on the wall.

"I understand that you had all your genetic blood tests done already and the results are favorable. No risks were identified and, as you already know, you are expecting a little girl," the nurse explained professionally as she prepared the ultrasound machine.

You nodded, your gaze locked on the darkened screen. "Yes," you affirmed, squeezing Cillian's hand reassuringly. "And we are really excited, I think...," you stammered, your voice conveying gratitude.

"Of course you are," the nurse smiled. "So, lets see what your little girl is doing, shall we?" the nurse encouraged you both, her voice radiating warmth and gentleness.

After you instinctively lifted up your shirt, the nurse's delicate hands moved skillfully, maneuvering the transducer across your abdomen, searching for the elusive image of your unborn child.

Cillian watched intently, his gaze fixed on the screen, scanning eagerly for signs of life. His breath quickened, and his pulse pounded in his veins, as images flickered across the monitor. An eerie alien landscape unfolded before him, filled with mysterious shadows and echoes of movement.

"There we go, "the nurse whispered softly, adjusting the controls expertly. "Here comes our little one," she cooed, her voice reverberating with tenderness.

Suddenly, the black void exploded with light, revealing the shadowy outline of your unborn child.

"Ah, look at that!" the nurse exclaimed enthusiastically, pointing towards the screen. "She's moving around nicely," she observed, her voice ringing with wonder.

Cillian stared raptly at the flickering image, his heartbeat accelerating wildly.

"Her heartbeat is strong and she is measuring around 17 weeks. That puts us right on track for an estimated due date," the nurse announced proudly, her voice filled with delight.

"Wow," Cillian marveled, his heart swelling with awe. "She's really active, isn't she?" he observed, his gaze glued to the pulsating image on the screen.

"Yes, indeed," the nurse concurred, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Just watch as I move the wand around a bit," she advised, manipulating the probe dexterously.

"Watch closely," she encouraged, her tone filled with excitement.

Cillian leaned forward with anticipation, his gaze locked on the screen. The image shimmered with ghostly intensity, and the rhythmic thump of his little girl's heartbeat echoed in the room.

"Can you hear that?" the nurse inquired, her voice filled with pride. "That's her heartbeat," she stated, her expression radiant with happiness and you nodded, your gaze lingering on the image of your unborn child.

"I can't believe that, in just a few months, we will be welcoming her into our lives," Cillian replied, his gaze fixed on the screen.

"It feels surreal, doesn't it?" you mused, your voice softening. "But I'm so grateful for this moment," you told Cillian, feeling glad that you had decided against terminating the pregnancy after all.

"As am I," Cillian echoed, his voice filled with warmth.

"I've been picturing her in my mind every day, and seeing her heartbeat is... it is incredible...," Cillian trialed off, his gaze lingering on the screen. "Thank you, Y/N," he then said with emotion, feeling grateful for your choice to keep his child. "Thank you for keeping our baby," he repeated, his voice breaking slightly as his gaze drifted lovingly to your midsection in awe.

To be continued...

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you

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zaynesaurora · 10 days

Text

ʟ&ᴅꜱ ! reaction to you having medical anxiety—

a/n: no in depth medical terms/procedures used, anxiety talk obvs. only the three main boys this time, hope you enjoy ✨ nonnie <3

zayne ! uses his status within the medical field to his advantage, as soon as you make it known which doctor will be overseeing your appointment he's straight to his emails- typing out a well worded paragraph in which he all but directly threathens the poor recipiant. it's not in bad nature by any means, in an ideal world he would love to be the one resposible but making the relationship offical meant he had to follow professional protocol. a few tiny favours would slide under the radar.

he'd hit you with an "im assured everything went smoothly?" when your back by his side, an almost none existant smirk lingering on his lips when his hand reaches out to offer you a small boiled sweet. he's a firm believer in sugar following procedures after all.

other doctors in the hospital start to get nervous when your name crops up but dr zayne doesn't care. not when your needs are met every time and you come back to him safe, each appointment becoming easier with his help- unbeknownst to you.

xavier ! is also the anxiety patient, offering to come with you to as many check ups as he possibly can- even if the white walls make his heart begin to race too fast and his palms sweaty, he'd sit by you the entire time. both your legs bouncing in place agaisnt one another, conversation almost non existant and your shoulders jolting when a name is called forward to the examination rooms. he'd squeeze your thigh when it's finally your turn, grounding both you and himself before speaking.

"do you need me to come with? or wait here?", you'd nod- not fully hearing the latter half of his question in your unsettled state but he'd know. rising to his full height, hand in hand as he led you down repetative corridors.

throughout the consultation itself, xavier would continue lettling you hold his fingers- your skin sticky as your thumb idly traces his knuckles. he'd notice when the words are getting stuck in your throat, pushing his own troubles aside to answer anything he could on your behalf.

rafayel ! would plan as many activies as he can either side of your arrangement so that you can't possibly spend the day focused on one little aspect that may or may not go well, something your prone to doing- even when the appointment is in the later hours of afternoon. your booked in at 5pm? okay, so he's going to take you for breakfast, maybe a walk along the beach afterwards. probaly some form of shopping, hit the claw machine as usual- that alone kills 3 hours.

before you know it, rafayel would have gossiped with you all the way to the waiting room, keeping you focused else where everything running as smooth as possible- in an out in a matter of minutes, "see not so bad right?"

he'd pull you off to dinner straight after, ending the night on a high that puts a positive outlook on a day that terrorized you for hours before hand- doubts long forgotten.

#myths—#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace rafayel #lads x reader #lads zayne #lads xavier #lads rafayel #l&ds x reader #l&ds zayne #l&ds xavier #l&ds rafayel

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