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ladynyoko · 27 days ago

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Jonah's Enucleation

So this is going to be a long post. I apologize for that in advance. I've been sort of blowing up @talesfromtreatment's ask box since Sunday morning going through a hell of a rollercoaster with my dog. (Again, sorry about that. Not sure if you read any of it, but if you haven't feel free to delete those messages and just read this post instead if you want to know what I've been using your ask box as a sounding board about for the last 48-ish hours.)

This all starts Saturday.

We have a Beagle/Jack Russell mix. His name is Jonah. He's around 8-ish years old and, tragically, a beagle with all that entails. He's a good dog - but he's got loud opinions and can't help himself around food or cat toys. He wears sweaters in the winter when it's cold. He has a favorite blanket. He's overweight but we've been working on it.

Saturday morning, when we woke up, everything was normal. As the day went on, he started acting like he does on his bad pain days. He's had Lyme in the past and while he tests negative now, he has what I can only describe as flare ups. He'll get listless, go off his food, and just be miserable for a day before he perks up and is just fine the next day. We have prescription painkillers for if a flare up lasts particularly long or he's really uncomfortable. But this looked like a mild one, all things considered.

Saturday evening, when I let him out for the night, I noticed a little bit of odd behavior. He walked straight into the screen door on his way back in. "Huh, that's odd." I thought. But it was dark out, and the screen door was in a different spot than usual because of some ground shifting after our recent cold snap - I wasn't able to open it all the way like I usually do. He didn't seem to find his treat as quickly as usual either. But I figured, he's getting older. Maybe his vision's going a little. He already has his annual scheduled in March - I'll bring it up with his vet then.

I didn't get a chance.

Sunday morning, when we woke up, he was blind. In the short span of 24 hours, he'd completely lost his vision.

We knew something was wrong. We checked the hours for our local animal urgent care, and resolved to take him in the second they opened.

And once they had, we loaded him and his favorite blanket up in the car, and drove straight there. There was another emergency ahead of us. The clinic was busy. Not surprising - it was the only place within an hour's drive that was open today. Everyone with an urgent problem would be going there today. Still, we weren't waiting very long before they brought us back to one of their two exam rooms and started intake.

We didn't wait long for the vet either.

It's a vet we know. She's saved our cat's life before. (Some of you may remember Lily, if you've been following me for a long time. We had to do signal boost fundraising for her years back after a near death experience.) We trust her implicitly. She looks over Jonah and confirms our suspicions. He's completely blind. But why he's suddenly gone blind is what we're there to find out.

After examining him, she suspects glaucoma. It wasn't something I even knew dogs could get. On the way there, I'd been running through the worst fears I could think of. Had his thyroid medication tipped him the other way into hyperthyroidism? Had we missed diabetes? Was it a brain tumor?

We were prepared for a lot of things. Glaucoma sounded easy! My mom has borderline glaucoma! Just eye drops to control his pressure and keep up with his annuals, and he'll be fine, right?

So back to the waiting room we went while they started his tests. We requested a comprehensive blood panel to rule out any other possibilities, which the vet agreed to do in addition to his eye pressure check and a test to check his moisture levels in his eyes as well.

We wait for a bit, they bring him back out, and we get his test results. Blood panel looks good. Eyes are a tiny bit on the dry end of normal range. But his eye pressure is through the roof. Glaucoma confirmed. No big! We just need to get his eye pressure down and then we can get him on maintenance drops and follow up with our regular vet.

Except that isn't how it happens.

He gets his first round of drops. We wait thirty minutes. He gets a second round, because his pressure was really high, another thirty minutes. They retest. The pressure in his right eye is down. But his left eye has continued to climb. We do another couple rounds of drops. Another retest. His right eye has stabilized. His left eye has not. They give him a narcotic for the pain. We try another medication - one that the vet didn't want to use because it's extremely uncomfortable for the dogs but at this point we need to get this under control. Drops every fifteen minutes. Waiting. Agonizing. We talk about next steps. The vet consults with a specialist in a larger city. Jonah has calmed thanks to the narcotic and is laying on his blanket on the floor of the waiting room.

After nearly six hours at animal urgent care, the pressure in his right eye finally comes down. It's still high, but the vet doesn't want to keep him any longer. We're discharged with a steroid to control the inflammation and hopefully manage the pain, an antibiotic because we just spent nearly six hours fussing with his eyes and don't want them infected, and the drops to control his eye pressure. We're given strict instructions to follow up with our regular vet the next day and have his pressure retested as soon as we're able.

Exhausted, we bring our extremely drugged dog home. He pees in the front yard and spends the rest of the evening on his blanket on the couch. I give him his first dose of medication without incident. Then his second. Mom goes to bed. I promise to wake her if I need help giving him his third dose.

He sleeps on the couch. Our cat joined him at some point between his third dose and the time I came up for his fourth. His narcotics are starting to wear off now. He cries when I go to gently pull his eyelid back to medicate his left eye. His eye looks worse. He's in pain. I feel bad but I know I have to do this and thankfully I manage on my own. He settles down and I go to bed, resolved to wake in four short hours for his next dose.

The next morning I wake up for his next dose of meds. Pressure drops then steroids. His eye hasn't improved. I start to worry. I'm afraid of what we'll find when we drop him off at the vet. Has his left eye continued to trend downwards or has it shot back up? We won't know until he gets tested. Our other dog has a grooming appointment. Mom leaves to take him to that. I stay home with Jonah. I call our vet and let them know what's going on. Ask if we can drop him off. The tech tells me the vet won't be in for another hour and she'll call me back as soon as she's talked to them.

I lay down on the couch with Jonah and try to get a little more sleep. I wake up in an hours - he needs his antibiotic now. The vet calls and agrees to a drop off appointment. I drive him in with his blanket, all his medications, and the meal he hadn't eaten that morning. I let them know everything that's happened in the last 24 hours. He hasn't eaten or drank anything since the previous morning. I worry.

Mom gets home with our freshly groomed other dog. We talk about what we're going to do. We've stretch our budget thin paying for his urgent care visit the previous day. We know the next step is to remove the eye that we can't get under control - a $2,000-$3,000 surgery. Way out of our budget. But we don't want him to be in pain. We resolve that if his pressure has gone up again, we'll have him put to sleep rather than have him suffer any longer.

The waiting game starts again. A few hours later, we get the call. The vet retested his eyes three times. The right has completely stabilized. The left has shot up again. We're devastated. We know what's best for him. What has to be done. We let the vet know, and schedule to come to the office in three hours to see him across the rainbow bridge, after we've had time to inform His Boy who now lives two hours away with a family of his own.

We're all emotionally drained by this point. We've cried off and on. It's hard to talk about it without crying. The urgent care vet calls us to see how he's doing and we tell her the bad news.

Monday afternoon, we drive to the vet's office. We try not to break down into tears in the waiting room, knowing what's coming. Knowing we'll be led into the quiet Goodbye Room they have, with its nice couch and soft pastel walls and privacy.

We get called up to the tech and are met with a question.

"If money weren't a problem, what would you do?" I reply without thinking. "Get rid of the damn eye." She tells us that there's another option. There's a friend of the office who offers financial assistance for cases like ours. Young, otherwise healthy animals with decent prognoses whose owners just can't afford the treatment they need. She only asks what we can afford to pay, and she'll pay the rest. No need to repay her. We're overcome. There's the smallest glint of hope.

We ask when we'd have to pay, because we'd just tapped everything we had for his urgent care appointment. She offers to talk to the vet. The vet agrees. We're clients in good standing who've proven again and again how much we care for our pets. The entire office hated what was about to happen because we just couldn't afford a treatment. For us, they'll defer payment until our next check comes in.

Overcome, we schedule the surgery. Jonah is brought out to us, now on painkillers and in significantly better spirits. (Although some of that may be attributed to a dirty secret they shared with us. One of the girls in the office had a birthday that day, you see. And, thinking it was his final day, they'd spoiled him fucking rotten. He may have diarrhea tonight, the tech says apologetically. We just laugh.)

On February 4th, Jonah's left eye will be removed. His right eye will remain. He'll be blind for the rest of his life. But he'll be alive and out of pain and that was always the goal we were aiming for. We still have a heavy financial burden, but he's worth it. He's so, so worth it. We're going to have so many more years to enjoy him and all his tragically Beagle crimes.

#pet illness #good outcome

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theyjusthowl · 6 months ago

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It's wip monday, again!!!

Yeah, so I'm still working on this thing and I've hit kind of a rut. I'm just not sure where I want to go and I'd love to bounce back some ideas so if you're up for it hit me up? My beta is out of commission until further notice so at this point I'm just desperate to dump my sterek feels on anyone who'll listen.

Anyway, here's a snippet. This is all the same WIP, it's about to hit 70k now and I'm dying over here. If you ever wondered where Stiles had gone when I posted the first snippet, this is where: college, but like as far away as possible. Have at it.

***

It happens a couple more times, Stiles just never tells Isaac what he's really thinking. They just go back and forth, Stiles coming up with more and more ridiculous career paths he could take, almost always involving some kind of joke about dying.

(Isaac has an inkling that Stiles doesn't trust him not to run to Derek. And he'd be right, because Stiles is the brains of this operation. At this point, Isaac is sure he's the whole operation, if Scott's attempts at growing their cutesy blended pack are anything to go by. He's not loving Derek's odds, to be honest.)

Around the same time the rest of the pack start panicking about their options, Stiles tells Isaac he’s made up his mind. The Colorado School of Mines.

Isaac hugs him awkwardly. “Tell me this isn’t because you want the ground to open up and swallow you.”

“I’m actually thinking of Aerospace Engineering so I can maybe fuck off into the sunset. Do you think there are werewolves on Mars?” Stiles says. "Please tell me Derek hates long flights."

They share a quiet laugh and then Isaac is up close in his space, hugging him. Stiles hangs on, fists pressed into his eyes, chin hooked over Isaac’s shoulder. They don’t let go for a long time.

Graduation comes and goes. Choices are made, suitcases are packed, tears are shed, all the usual works. Derek doesn’t reach out. It’s been a month and Stiles hasn’t been to the forest, or near the loft, or anywhere for that matter. He hasn’t told Scott yet.

He drives to the clinic late one night. He knows that Scott will be there, even if it’s after hours on a Sunday, because it has always been his safe space. Stiles cries bitterly behind the steering wheel and gathers his bearings in time to catch Scott exiting, turning off the lights and locking the door behind him.

Stiles tells Scott that he’s leaving and Scott’s whole body flops. He doesn’t question his friend on this.

They hug on the sidewalk because Stiles has made a choice that he can’t unmake, that opens a riff between them.

It could be easy. Stiles knows it could be so easy. If he wanted to stay, all he had to do was ask, and Derek would just leave, sever all ties with Scott’s pack and never look back.

The thing is, Stiles doesn’t need to ask, because this is the hill that he will choose to die on every single time, willingly, with a passion. He leaves because he hasn’t been the better man, ever, but also because he unwaveringly chooses to take a stand for Derek over Scott, a thousand times over, bite or no bite.

Stiles’ departure spreads their friendship thin because if he was a shapeshifter, if he was anything remotely otherly at all, he’d go lone wolf before submitting to Scott, but they both know he would submit to Derek, in a heartbeat, with his life.

(Scott knows, because Stiles has been his brother all these years, that he would happily crawl his way through the marshy banks of the Styx river to bring any of them back, but if only one of them could make it out alive, Scott also knows that he would watch his best friend disappear into the depths of Hades to stay with Derek.

So they hug, and they cry quietly, and Scott doesn’t ask Stiles to reconsider, because the second the words are out of his mouth, Scott feels the bond breaking.)

#teen wolf #derek hale #sterek #stiles stilinski #void stiles #teen wolf stiles #derek x stiles #derek hale x stiles stilinski #isaac lahey #teen wolf fanfiction #sometimes i pretend to be a writer #wip monday #current wip

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otdiaftg · 1 year ago

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Wymack assess the damage done to Neil.

"Can I let go of you and trust you to behave, or are you going to try and cut your face off again? I want to check on your stitches." "I'll behave," Neil said. "Forgive me if I don't trust you," Wymack said, but he let go. They got back to their feet. Wymack meant it when he said he didn't trust Neil, because he took Neil back to the living room and out of eyesight of the knives. Wymack gestured at Neil to shed his shirt, but Neil couldn't move well enough to get it off. Wymack eyed him for a moment, then left to get his cooking scissors. He brandished them at Neil in a question, and Neil nodded. He held perfectly still while Wymack cut his shirt off of him. Wymack didn't say anything about the scars. He didn't say anything about how many bandages Neil had wrapped around his chest and abdomen or how many bruises showed around the gauze. He just checked Neil over with a clinical eye and poked at every line of stitches for weaknesses. Neil stood silent and still and let him work. He'd ripped threads loose on his side, down near his waist, but that gash was almost healed anyway. Wymack pushed at Neil's skin to see if it would bleed and came back with clean fingers. Wymack peeled off blood-crusted bandages and dropped them on the coffee table. He surveyed the damage, then left. Neil heard a drawer snick open and closed, and the faucet cut on for a couple seconds. Wymack came back with a wet wash cloth and a small first aid kit. Neil tried to take the cloth from him, but he couldn't close his fingers tight enough to hold onto it. Wymack pushed his hand out of the way and scrubbed dried blood from Neil's skin. It hurt, but Neil gritted his teeth and stayed silent. It made him think of long nights on the road, of catching his breath in safe houses all around the world. For a moment Neil remembered how his mother's fingers felt on his skin. He remembered the bite of needles moving in and out as she threaded his broken body back together. The new heat crawling up his throat to prick at his eyes was grief. Neil blinked it away as hard as he could. "One day we're going to talk about this," Wymack said in a low voice. "After finals," Neil said without looking at him. "After we beat the Ravens. Then I'll tell you whatever you want to know. I'll even tell you the truth." "I'll believe that when I see it."

Day: Sunday, December 31st Time: 11:45 PM EST

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ivoryminitower · 2 months ago

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Echoes of Home: 71 - Steve ("no XP")

Echoes of Home: FFXIV AU OC – WoLs on Earth

I got a call this morning. "Hey, Sid…it's Scott."

"Scott who?"

"Scott. From Murray's. You busted my shoulder…?"

"Shoulder! Right, sorry, didn't get your name before. What's up?"

"That guy I told you about? Thought he could help you with your fighting? He's agreed to come by."

"Oh. Cool. Can you have him pick up a tire iron? I'll pay for it when we get together."

"Tire iron…? You can't get one yourself?"

"It's better if he brings it. Trust me."

No idea what Scott from Murray's has to offer us. I suppose we can dislocate his shoulder again if he's wasting our time.

With fights not happening, at least in Sperry, we should be looking for alternative sources of income. Not that we need that much in the way of money, but eventually we'll need some form of ID. My info sources on fake ID are mostly fiction and rumor, but I'm hearing $25k per person. We need to start saving up.

Purveyors of identification might be receptive to payment in gold. It's relatively anonymous. We haven't found gold yet. Wikipedia doesn't list gold within a thousand miles of us, with the strongest prospects being Nevada and the Carolinas. Some sites say there's gold in Oklahoma, but so little of it that you have to filter carefully while panning lest you miss it.

Gold can be found in Eorzea at certain times of the day in a cavern that leads between sparse woodland and an area called The Burning Wall. It's a deep oasis with waterfalls and a pool at the bottom. It has blue-glowing vegetation, big yellow-glowing crystals, snurbles (fluffy, downy, bad-tempered birdlike things the size of chickens) and mirror knights (spiky, even worse-tempered birdlike things the size of men). I don't know of any place like that, but I'm still researching.

Silver, on the other hand, is found in Eorzea in a wooded rocky pass near a stream outside of Buscarron's Druthers, a frontier town in the frontier of another frontier town called Quarrymill. That sounds enough like the Ozarks that we should plan a camping trip there to see before it gets too cold.

But silver is kind of unwieldy. At $21 an ounce it's worth more than a hundred times what copper's going for, but we're still talking pounds of the stuff for any real value. The aforementioned identity purveyors might balk at us dumping a hundred and fifty pounds of silver on their desk. But as a backup source of cash, we might be able to liquidate a few hundred dollars' worth a week without getting too much attention.

There's also the possibility of actual work. Official jobs are out of the question until we have some sort of tax ID. But people here have apparently gotten used to the idea of us doing odd things, so they're starting to approach us about odd jobs. The shed turns out to be a better resumé than the tables; I've been asked to help do some repairs and light construction. I'm a day laborer they don't have to go find on the street.

Tsu'na's glamour prisms will be handy for that. Not that our crafting gear looks ugly or anything (and in fact it shows off my wife's figure nicely), but it does look a little Dickensy. Now we can glamour to off-the-rack Ts and painter's pants and maybe blend in. But if we can't find or make a glamour dresser we'll be going through a helluva lot of prisms.

So. Sunday night.

No one died. The guy who lost his hand coulda bled out, but Tsu'na said Myra said he got to a clinic. So no one died. No XP, no gil.

Would've been easy. Dagger to the gut. Throat slit. Head chopped off. Neck snapped. Could've dropped Inside Guy in the changing room and there wouldn't even be a chopped-off hand to worry about. Just a body Myra would have to deal with.

We could solve a lot of problems with force and skill. Maybe create more, but we could then solve those too.

Just like we did at home. In Eorzea. With NPCs.

Just like in a video game.

I think I'll finish up the bicycle.

#ffxiv #ffxiv echoes of home #ffxiv writers #ffxiv fanfiction #final fantasy xiv fanfic #ffxiv writing #writeblr

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beardedmrbean · 2 years ago

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Residents living near Portland's Willamette River have witnessed a series of homeless cabins and structures being built on prime river real estate with "million-dollar" city views but have so far been unable to get anyone to do anything about it.

"Pretty much everyone comes back and says that they don’t have jurisdiction because it’s Union Pacific, it’s a railroad," Ric Scaramella, who owns a condominium on the other side of the Willamette River, told KOIN in a report Sunday.

Scaramella told the outlet that people across the river from his home have been building makeshift cabins, complete with doors, windows and sometimes even solar panels, on the banks of the river that feature views of downtown Portland.

Scaramella said he can see "about nine structures" built on the banks of the river, making clear that they are not tents. These are structures."

The resident said he is concerned for the people living in the structures, noting that there are no city services and that pollution might be flowing from the buildings into the river. Yet, in what he says have been "30, 40" attempts to report the structures to local and state agencies, nobody has had a solution to the issue.

According to a reporter for an outlet who took a boat to get a closer look at the structures, many of the buildings are made out of driftwood and resemble beaver dams, while further down the river there was a collection of garbage and debris on the shoreline.

One woman who identified herself only as "Paula" agreed to chat with the outlet, telling KOIN that she has lived on her spot along the shore "off and on about a year and a half."

"I have anxiety issues, and I think I have personality disorders, too, that I’m dealing with. I think that’s what’s kept me out here so long," Paula said, admitting that she has become addicted to meth since suffering a bad breakup.

"There’s a few shelters I like. They would have been great except for the no-drugs thing. That sucks. I don’t think drugs are my problem," she said. "I think my problem is I have no place to wash my hair and go to the bathroom."

So far, no government agency has claimed responsibility for the area occupied by the structures, with multiple agencies telling KOIN that the property is owned by railroad company Union Pacific. Meanwhile, Union Pacific says the area is governed by complex common-law rules.

"Union Pacific Police regularly patrol our property and enforce trespassing laws; however, this area is particularly challenging to enforce, because cabins are near the water’s edge. Under Ordinary High Water Mark common law, the boundary separating public land from private land is determined by natural fluctuations of the water, making it a legal gray area," the company said in a statement to KOIN.

The Oregon Department of State Lands isn't so sure, telling KOIN that jurisdiction of the area depends on where the riverbank ends.

"The bad news is, at this point, it’s hard to say if we have a role. Where public ownership of the riverbed/bank ends and upland ownership begins is complicated," the agency said.

The city of Portland has also declined to take responsibility for the area, arguing that the structures sit on land owned by Union Pacific or the Port of Portland. The Oregon Department of Environmental Quality and the Army Corps of Engineers also told KOIN they play no role in overseeing the area.

But Paula, who hopes to get placement in a county-sponsored rehab clinic soon, said those complaining about the encampments should treat people with love.

"You get PTSD out here, for sure," she said. "What do I say to people who are frustrated? You know love is everything. It’s how we treat each other. People are so quick to be angry."

#nunyas news #nimby's mad

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catdotjpeg · 1 year ago

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International medical groups are becoming increasingly concerned about Israel’s full-on attacks against healthcare as the military continues targeting paramedics, ambulances, patients, and doctors. On Sunday, the Palestinian Red Crescent Society (PRCS) reported the Israeli military opening fire on an ambulance carrying critically wounded patients as well as obstructing, detaining, and abusing paramedics. The incident took place on Monday morning as six PRCS ambulances, escorted by the United Nations (UN), evacuated 11 critical patients from Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in Gaza City to a hospital in the besieged enclave. The ambulances, filled with amputee and head casualty patients, were forced to stop for hours at a time at several military checkpoints, during which two paramedics were detained, and one of the patients died waiting. One paramedic, Rami Al-Qatawi, was held by the army for over four hours and was subjected to beatings, abuse, and blackmail. After being released, he was forced to walk over 2 kilometers in cold weather while stripped of his clothes and handcuffed. When Qatawi finally arrived at the other side of the checkpoint, he was in “deplorable condition.” Later on Sunday, PRCS reported that their medical crews were once again put in danger by the Israeli army when soldiers invaded the area near the UNRWA clinic in the Jabalia camp. “The team consists of nine doctors, nurses, and volunteers. The surrounding area is currently under bombardment, posing a constant threat to the lives of medical teams and the wounded,” it said. “What we are seeing in Gaza is not simply the killing of innocent people and the destruction of their livelihoods, but a systematic effort to empty Gaza of its people,” Jordan’s Foreign Minister Ayman Safadi said at the Doha Forum. “Israel has created this amount of hatred that will haunt this region. [It] will define generations to come and, therefore, it’s hurting its own people as much as it’s hurting everybody else in the region,” Safadi continued. The Israeli government spokesperson Eylon Levy called Safadi’s allegations Safadi “outrageous,” claiming Israel is simply “fighting to defend itself.” As hopes of a ceasefire dwindle, the World Health Organization (WHO) executive board unanimously voted in favor of a resolution calling for the “immediate, sustained and unimpeded passage of humanitarian relief, including the access of medical personnel.” The rare executive board meeting is only the seventh in WHO’s 75-year history, highlighting the dire situation. The resolution, which “underscores the importance of health as a universal priority,” even in the “most difficult of situations,” was proposed following the UN’s failure to call for a ceasefire. “It is an important moment for WHO – an organization focusing on international public health. For me, it is a victory [for] humanity. A victory of member states in promoting health, protecting the vulnerable, and saving lives,” said Dr Ahmed al-Mandhari, regional WHO director, as cited by Al Jazeera. Meanwhile, the United States representative said Washington agreed not to oppose the consensus on the text but had “significant reservations,” saying it “regrets the lack of balance in the resolution.”

-- "Patient dies waiting at Israeli military checkpoint in Gaza" by Leila Warah for Mondoweiss, 11 Dec 2023

#palestine #gaza #id in alt text

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soranihimawari · 1 year ago

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Serpens

word count: 1.4k

pairing: nanami x neighbor! reader

rating: t/m due to medical scene involving reader helping stitch up nanami

there are a few things you are required to know before you walk into the clinic. one, curses are real nasty. two, your friends keep thinking you aren't read into their world behind the scenes. three, you have an unnatural talent to sense when death rears its beautiful head. and four, when death truly comes to visit, you hiss like a cat to scare it away.

three months later from this personal revelation on a sunday afternoon, your neighbor struggles with opening his door. he was tall, super blonde, and downright gorgeous in cobalt blue paired with khaki. he moved in around a month back stating he had a new job starting in the finance department of a small start up company. you also pick up on the subtle way he leaves as quietly as possible before your alarms set off and returns in the wee hours of the night.

jumping back to the present, you are coming home from a late night bar hopping night with your girlfriends from the law office. you were the most sober by the time you arrived at your door, still a little tipsy, but sober enough to notice your neighbor frustratedly trying to open his door. you ignore the blood on his shoes as the drip trail is due to the cut on his mid-torso. you smell sulfur though, it is a thing you do not comment on, however you tell him to hand his keys to you.

"i got it," you softly smile up at him.

post unlocking his front door, you hand him back the keys and usher him inside his own home.

"have a good night, err..." you read the nameplate next to his unit number. "nanamin-san."

you bow and enter your own home after he nods and closes his door.

you prepare yourself for bed post washing off the grime of the bar and at the three am hour, you wake up with a jolt. something was terribly wrong. you sense it, you know you do, even your cat meows in the corner facing one of the walls that align with your neighbor's apartment. you grab your jacket within the closet to only head out to protect your neighbor from certain death. you knock on the door for as long as you can before he, disheveled hair and pajamas pants and all, answers.

"nanami-san, are you alright?" your brows are furrowed concerned.

"...mmhm," he hums. "it's three in the morning, what is it?"

"death looms near," you warn. your face is earnest and honest, thus causing him to straighten his posture up; nanami invites you inside and you walk behind him. the door closes, you pick up on the subtleties of his motifs: simple colors, bold furniture choices. he puts a kettle on the stove and you divulge in his curiosity.

“been seeing less of ‘em,” you explain. you’re a bit bashful when you thank him for riding this block of its afflictions.

“you see them too, now that is something i’d never expect to hear from a neighbor,” nanami casually states after the water boils and the steam whistle blows.

you tell him about your childhood, how you thought the “curses” were just other people’s imaginary friends until one year in high school there was a disappearance case of a small manned chess team—“they were never seen or heard from again. only clue was their sponsor’s decapitated head rolling around the forest.”

you don’t expect him to believe you, but he does… until four in the morning rolls and you both seem to have exchanged enough bb takes of survival for one night.

“i’ll see myself out, nanami-san , just rest, ok?” you smile right when you reach the door. before you go, you turn around to peek over your shoulder: “don’t move so much, it will cause your self-inflicted stitches to tear and your wound will be infected. i’m taking the day off, but I have more steadier hands. leave this unlocked for me and i will return with other items besides that alcohol you seem to be an avid fan of.”

he says nothing but he nods. leaning back in his chair, he stares up at the ceiling with a sly smile. perhaps moving here wasn’t such a bad idea.

returning less than twenty minutes later, you gently, but firmly announce your presence and nanami hunts a bit.

“did anyone ever tell you that in a fight you should dodge?”

he chuckles, yet seriously masks it when you ask him to lift his shirt.

“you’re bleeding through it, i’m a medical examiner for crime scenes, so let me stitch you up properly, ok?”

humble beginnings for two young adults began this night. you stayed up with him through every slight wince up until your needle was put to rest. nanami thanks you for your time and you ask him if it's ok to nap on the couch saying you'd return to your abode next door the moment you need to, "because work is a thing and also, aren't you a part-time teacher?"

nodding, he tells you what he does outside of the office. there are brief mentions of his high school senior's students he takes under his wing to help them sharpen their tactics when fighting the cursed spirits.

it's nearly christmas the next time you truly cross paths. work in the clinic and end of quarters reports have been causing you both to sleep less at home and more in office. though when you have time, you slip a note under your neighbor's door wishing him safe travels if he asks you to pick up his mail and/or if you know he seems a bit stressed out, you send him your favorite adage to help him turn the work he does around: "take it easy, nanami-san."

imagine your surprise when he shows up to your door one december morning, you still half dressed in your scrub pants and dry-fit long sleeve undershirt, you answer post checking the peephole.

"i think you have the wrong unit, nanami-san," pointing to the door to your left. "your place is over-"

"yln-san, have dinner with me?"

"huh?" you're sure you heard him right, yet he slightly rambles a bit. he is slightly shy and coy when mentions he never really thanked you for taking care of him the night you came over to stitch him up even if you had an ominous pit in your stomach.

"...hauntingly bleak 'death looms near,'" he concludes. "so, will you have dinner with me?...please?"

your eyes sort of soften and you sort of blush since he brought up the notes you seem to like (now love) to sneak under his door. the latest one? a fun fact about the constellation of of serpens. it's one of the longest constellations ever and you mention you hope your acquaintanceship turns into a friendship especially now since you remind him rest is essential to survival.

"tonight," you answer. "i'll be ready by eight tonight. is that a reasonable time to come over? i worked the night shift..."

nanami runs a hand of his through his blonde hair, boyish smile and all, saying he's looking forward to seeing you then.

"get some rest doctor," he chooses to be bold since he notices you eyeing his hands (your imagination running away with you for the moment). "you may need it."

as he walks away you close your door, walk toward the couch, grab the nearest pillow and squeal/scream into it. that was unequivocally one of the hottest moments you have had with him. you flip over on the couch, drift off to sleep, while nanami joins the rest of the daytime workforce.

so as you finish the wicked cat-eye winged eyeliner. since it was a casual dinner among friendly neighbors, you decide to bring a wine you had yet to open. dressed in a semi-casual attire (jeans and collared shirt with some easy slide on boater shoes), you head out of your place with said bottle of wine in your hands and your phone in your back pocket with good luck texts from your work girl friends from the clinic.

inhaling deeply before raising your fist to knock on his door, you feel your heart flutter in hoping this leads to new, exciting things. what you don't know is nanami secretly is hoping for the same.

perhaps tomorrows are not promised to sorcerers out there, but the truth of the matter is, when one becomes entangled with a healer of sorts, things seem to align for the pair to seize the night.

#🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #nanami x neighbor!reader #sora after hours #🎋.jjk🎋#🎋nanami.jjk🎋#strangers->potential lovers

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amplifyme · 2 years ago

Text

Had a post cross my dash this evening that made me think of this one. An oldie but (hopefully) goodie. Sunday night smut.

Red Letter Day (read on AO3).

Explicit. MSR. Humor. Post-Fight the Future. Pre-Season 6. Absolutely no redeeming value. Originally published summer of 1998.

Summary: Mulder discovers the hidden benefits of Scully's PMS.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

If I was anywhere near the crack genius most people seem to think I am, I would have taken the time to check my calendar before I ever opened my mouth.

News flash: Dana Scully is hell on wheels the two or three days prior to the monthly visit from her "friend."

That's how she refers to her period: as her friend. If I had a friend that made me psychotic on a regular basis, I'd definitely be looking around for a new one. And you'd think a well- educated doctor could come up with a term a little more clinical than that.

Whatever.

There we were in our brand-spanking-new office (which I hate with a passion that knows no bounds because it’s bare and lacks the charm it had before the fire), knee-deep in cardboard boxes filled with freshly printed copies of all the X files Scully and I'd had the good sense to save on disk and stash at home.

We'd spent the better part of the previous weekend at the offices of the Gunmen, shooting the shit while the boys' printer got a workout. Call me paranoid, but I have no definitive proof that the printers at the Bureau aren't out to get me.

Note to self: send Byers a decent bottle of scotch, the collected works of Korn to Langly, and a copy of Alien Probe to Frohike.

Scully was cross-legged on the floor, stuffing papers into candy- striped file folders and consulting a list of case numbers, checking off each one as it was compiled. I'd made the mistake of volunteering to put said folders into some kind of order once she was done with them. And that's where we ran into trouble.

You see, Scully's idea of a filing system is way out of line with mine. I've always grouped files by phenomenon; Scully prefers to do it by case number. Consequently, our old file cabinets in our office (may its previous flotsam and jetsam rest in peace) were not exactly what one might call organized. That sort of thing doesn't faze me too much, but it makes her crazy. Had I bothered to note the date, I would have known not to cross her when she questioned me about it.

Live and learn.

"You're doing those by case number, right?"

I wasn't really paying much attention to her question. I had my back turned to her and had gotten lost in the last file she'd handed me, mourning anew the untimely, bizarre death of Clyde Bruckman and his equally bizarre take on my own demise. I made a noncommittal noise in reply.

"Mulder? You're filing those by case number?"

Her question finally registered. "Uh, no. Should I be?"

I flinched at the stinging slap of her hand hitting the hard surface of the floor. "Dammit, Mulder, I thought we agreed to do it by case number."

My radar went active and the alarms started going off. I had no idea why she'd flown off the handle so quickly, but I was pretty sure I was about to find out.

"We did?" I was being careful, buying myself some time to try to figure out what was going on. I turned and gave her my most guileless face as I got busy trying to recall what I might have done recently to piss her off. Hard as it may be to believe, I came up empty.

She gave me a long, icy look and gritted through her teeth, "Yes, we did. The last time you were at my apartment, as a matter of fact. Don't you remember?"

Okay, that was an easy one. I knew the right (read: best) answer and spit it out gratefully. "I'm sorry, Scully. My head must have been somewhere else."

So far so good. My excuse was legit. Especially if you take into account that the last time I'd been at her place, sex had been the only thing on our minds. And I've discovered that Scully gets very talkative afterwards, while I tend to zone out during my usual post-coital return to all my favorite places on her body. I'd much rather nuzzle the underside of her breasts or the curve of her ass than discuss the best way to organize our file cabinets. So I let her ramble on and she lets me poke and nibble. It's generally an equitable trade and, to be perfectly honest, I'd always figured she was paying as little attention to what I was doing as I was to what she was saying.

But like I said, live and learn. Because my smartass mouth then overrode my common sense. "Now that I think about it," I elaborated before I could stop myself, bending low and whispering. "I'm pretty sure it was between your legs."

"Jesus Christ, Mulder, is that all you think about? We have work to do here."

"I'm working. See?" I waved a hand at the open file cabinets and the rows of folders tucked inside.

"No, you're not. You're thinking about your head being between my legs. No wonder you can't file anything properly."

Obviously she wasn’t as concerned as me about the office being bugged.

I fought to tamp down my sudden flash of anger. What the hell was her problem? "Just because I'm not doing it the way you want me to, Scully, doesn't mean it's not being done properly."

"Whatever," she shot back. "Just do it however the hell you want to. You always do anyway."

Bitch.

While part of me was slowly realizing there might've been something more to her outburst than just my ill-timed comment, the rest of me couldn't have cared less. I found myself glaring at her. She glared right back.

"Fine," I snapped, swinging back around and yanking all the neatly filed folders out of the cabinets and slapping them down on top. "I'll do it your way."

That seemed to do the trick, because she got very quiet after that. At least she didn't gloat over her small victory. I kept up a steady stream of silent curses as I worked to re-file everything by case number. I was almost through the first pile when she began muttering under her breath.

Without turning around I asked, "Is there something you'd like to share with the class?"

"I knew this was gonna happen," she announced.

That's all it took to suck me right back into the game. "Knew what was gonna happen?" I turned just as she was getting to her feet.

"This," she said. "This problem you seem to have staying on task. I knew as soon as we started… you know… you'd have trouble separating that part from the work. Honestly, Mulder. I'm trying to get some work done and all you can think about is going down on me."

All this blurted out with her arms folded defensively across her chest and that holier-than-thou tone of voice. I opened my mouth to let loose with some retort and snapped it shut again as soon as I got a really good look at her face. Her flushed face. The high color and the sparkling eyes that spoke not just of anger, but of what I'd come to recognize as arousal.

It dawned on me in that moment that Scully was as horny as she was angry. Maybe even more so.

It took all my considerable self-control to keep the smile off my face. I took a step toward her and said, "I hate to point out the obvious, but you're the one who keeps bringing it up. I was just making a joke. You're the one who can't stop talking about it."

"And just what are you implying?" Her eyes danced fire as she glared up at me.

I've found that sometimes my silence can say more than words ever could. This was one of those moments. I watched her face change as she realized that I had more than a clue what was going on.

"Oh, I don't fucking believe this," she muttered, turning away and grabbing her trench coat from the chair she'd draped it over. "I'm going home. I'm not going to stand around here and watch your head explode from your over-inflated ego." She stomped to the door and flung it open, struggling comically to get her arms in the sleeves of her coat. "Good-bye, Mulder. I will see you in the morning."

I spent the next few minutes smothering my laughter and then dug out my pocket calendar, settling into a chair as I confirmed my suspicions.

It was probably four years ago when I started keeping track of Scully's menstrual cycles. At first, I'd just been marking down the days when she seemed to possess a shorter fuse than normal. After about three months, a definite pattern had emerged. I'd been able to pinpoint the days that marked the actual start of her period because she'd invariably complain of lower back pain and be popping Advil throughout the day. Once those events occurred, I knew I was safe for another month or so. It was the two or three days prior to that when I had to be careful.

Those were the days when Scully would act as though she'd just as soon shoot me as look at me. Or speak to me. Or have anything to do with me. Those were the days when we both would find any excuse to avoid being in close contact. She would take off for a long weekend or a symposium at Quantico or, if neither of those were possible, I would grudgingly offer my temporary services to BSU. If we happened to be in the field or out of town on a case, we'd come up with ways to work separately. Since there was almost always a corpse or two that needed slicing and dicing, it was never much of a problem.

All this time I'd been thinking that she just had less patience with me those few days than at other times-a result of hormones gone wild. It never once occurred to me that she might've been avoiding me for an entirely different reason. I was stunned by the idea that she maybe she'd wanted nothing more than to throw me down and screw me blind, hence her pissy manner that insured I'd stay away and not become an irresistible treat. Considering we hadn't been lovers until just a few months ago, that would certainly explain why she'd felt a need to be as far away from me as possible.

Can't exactly go around jumping your partner on impulse, now can you? So you take pains to avoid them instead. Out of sight, out of mind, Scully?

My grin just got bigger as I checked the previous two months on my calendar. Sure enough: those particular red letter days were times when we'd been apart for one reason or another. So even though we were engaging in hot monkey love by then, she had habitually avoided me the few days before her period. Wouldn't want to actually admit she might be extraordinarily horny and indulge herself in our new favorite pastime.

Well.

Wasn't that interesting.

So then I did what any red-blooded man would do: I formulated a plan to use her hormones to my advantage.

Now before you start lecturing me about what a pig I am, ask yourself: wouldn't you do the same?

I thought so.

I gave the unfiled files a cursory glance and decided they weren't going anywhere. I locked up the office and headed home. After grabbing a quick shower, I threw on jeans and a t- shirt and hightailed it over to her place.

Apparently I'd interrupted a rare session of Scully self- indulgence. I took a quick look over her shoulder as she threw open the door, spotting the pint of Wavy Gravy on the coffee table. William Hurt and Kathleen Turner were raising body temperatures on the TV.

"What do you want?" she asked. The pissy tone was still there, but she couldn't stop her eyes from raking me over head to toe in a rather predatory way.

Bingo.

"Hello to you, too, Scully. Whatcha doin'?"

"Nothing," she growled.

"Good." I stepped right past her, ignoring the indignant look she aimed at me.

I heard her huff dramatically as she closed the door. "What do you want, Mulder?"

"Who says I want anything?" I pulled off my leather jacket and tossed it onto the chair. Flopped down on the couch and grabbed the ice cream. I had the first spoonful in my mouth as she came around the end of the couch and planted herself in front of me, hands on hips.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Eating your ice cream."

"I can see that."

I leisurely licked the back of the spoon clean, my eyes pinning hers.

"Why are you here, Mulder? Surely it's not just to eat my food."

I jammed the spoon back into the container and set it on the table. "You're right. That's not why I'm here."

One eyebrow crept up her face and her hands lifted in question.

"I think," I told her, “That the real question is, what do you want?

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is that you're not being honest with me, and I don't think I like it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

That's the moment I realized Scully was capable of looking me straight in the eye without actually looking at me. Avoidance by confrontation.

Amazing.

"You're a lousy liar, Scully. You always have been." I was a little surprised at how raw my voice sounded to my own ears. Hoarse, aroused. I was even getting a hard-on, and I'd yet to lay a finger on her. It was shaping up to be an interesting afternoon.

"Excuse me?" she blustered. "If you've come here to insult me, Mulder, then I think you'd better leave."

"I didn't come here to insult you." I slumped back against the cushions, my feet purposefully planted wide. "I have something much more pleasant in mind."

She did a quick check of my crotch before lifting her eyes to mine. She tried to look innocent, like she hadn't just been caught eyeing the goods, but she couldn't pull it off.

I had her fair and square.

"Look, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but-"

"Just couldn't stop thinking about it, could you?"

"What?"

"My head between your legs." I made each word slow and precise. "The thought of me going down on you. It turns you on, doesn't it, Scully?"

She began to stammer, no doubt trying to get out some kind of excuse. I didn't give her the time. "In fact, I'd lay odds you're getting wet right now, just from me saying the words."

"Mulder-"

"It's okay. It turns me on, too. See?" I glanced at the rapidly growing bulge in my jeans. She obediently looked. When she raised her eyes, they'd gone dark and heavy-lidded. "The only thing I'm not sure about is just what turns you on the most. Is it the thought of my mouth against you, licking you? Or my tongue dipping into you?" I deliberately looked back down at my crotch. "Or maybe it's this you're thinking about."

I knew I was. I didn't have a whole lot of choice. My cock was straining uncomfortably against the rough denim of my jeans, demanding attention. I heard her sharp intake of air as my hips lifted slightly in invitation.

"It's okay," I told her again. "You don't have to hide from me anymore, Scully. You don't have to pretend. Whatever you want, whatever I can do for you, all you have to do is tell me and I'll do it."

I lifted my hands from where they rested on my thighs and draped my arms along the back of the couch, settling deeper into the overstuffed cushions. "Now why don't you just slip out of those clothes and come over here and tell me exactly what you want."

It was harder than hell to sound cool and confident when my heart was pounding like a jackhammer in my chest. My throat had gone so tight I don't think I could have swallowed had my life depended on it. Not that there was any saliva remaining in the arid desert my mouth had become.

To be perfectly honest, it wasn't just white-hot lust that caused my symptoms. I was terrified of Scully's response. Despite the way her hooded eyes lazily meandered over my body, despite her ragged breathing and the soft, inviting curve of her mouth, I had absolutely no idea what was going on in her head. For all I knew I was seconds away from having my ass booted out of her apartment and being told in no uncertain terms that I was no longer welcome there.

I'd never done anything like that with her before. While we'd indulged in the typical flirting lovers are wont to do over the last couple of months, I hadn't ever been that blatant in approaching her. We'd always entered into lovemaking the same way we did everything else in our relationship: slowly, cautiously, with few gestures and even fewer words.

All I could do at that moment was sit quietly and wait for her to decide. Though it might have appeared to anyone else that I was in charge of the situation, the complete opposite was true. It was Scully's call. She was in control, and I knew that was just the way she liked it.

It wasn't until her fingers lifted to the buttons of her blouse that I released the breath I hadn't been aware of holding. She pinned my eyes and wouldn't let go until she was forced to bend over to pull off her pants. And then she straightened and faced me, clad in nothing but a lacy bra and panties.

"All of it," I managed to croak.

And then she cocked an eyebrow and gave me tiny, wicked smile. A ragged chuckle escaped me and I finally took a deep breath.

Thank you, Scully, for not kicking me out. Thank you for not laughing in my face. Thank you for wanting me as much as I wanted you.

She made short work of the bra and panties and stood there waiting, giving me back a little of the control, letting me take a leisurely look at what she was offering. She was five-foot two inches of walking, talking perfection. I sat up and extended a hand to her and she stepped forward and silently took it. I tugged until she was standing right in front me, only inches away, trapped between my knees. I closed my eyes and breathed her in.

You know what it smells like just after it's rained on a perfect early spring evening? When you catch a whiff of new grass and leaves and just a hint of the musk of flowers still forming blossoms. That's what Scully smells like.

I let go of her fingers and moved my hands to her hips, holding her firmly in place. And then I leaned forward and kissed the soft slope of her belly, just below her navel. Her fingers slipped through my hair as I turned my cheek and rested it against her.

There I was just seconds after telling her to strip naked and talk dirty to me, struggling with a hard-on that could cut glass, when suddenly the back of my throat started to ache and my eyes to sting. All signs of impending tears. My face was buried in the softness of her belly, inches away from the source of her intense fragrance, and all I could do was get teary-eyed because I thought I must be the luckiest sonofabitch on the face of the earth.

Now you must understand something: I never thought Scully and I would get to the place we've reached. It's not that we weren't aware of our feelings for each other and the attraction between us, or curious about what it might be like to give in to that attraction. It's just that when you cut to the chase, both of us tend to be chickenshit when it comes to matters of the heart. Especially when you factor in all we had to lose if it'd turned out that sex between us was something better left to the imagination.

But we were lucky, Scully and me. We came together and discovered it could be even better than we had any right to expect. And sometimes that gets to me. It did that day, and in all honesty, it still happens with alarming frequency.

Scully, bless her horny little heart, pulled me right out my sentimental brooding. "You were right, Mulder," she murmured as I turned my face and kissed her again. "About everything you said. You made that joke in the office and I couldn't stop thinking about it. It just made me so…"

"Horny?" I supplied.

I felt the vibration of her silent chuckle as I continued to taste her belly. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. And I had to get out of there. I'm not used to being able to admit my feelings to myself, let alone to you and… oh, don't stop doing that, Mulder… and so I ran away."

I moved my hands around and took a hold of her perfect little ass, gently kneading the flesh. I dipped my head and began to kiss along the crease where thigh met torso. "Old habits die hard, huh?"

"Oh, God. Yes, they do." Her fingers had taken a firmer grip on my head, directing my mouth where she wanted it. Which just happened to be where I wanted it, too. I nuzzled the crisp copper curls at the apex of her thighs. "Mulder, please."

"What do you want?"

"You know what I want."

"No," I reminded her, "I want you to tell me."

She got quiet and I pulled away a little, looking up at her. She was gnawing on her bottom lip. Her expression was one of shyness struggling with need, and it was just about the sexiest thing I'd ever seen. I considered letting her off the hook. For a second or two. But it was too good to let go. My cock twitched in anticipation.

She closed her eyes in a slow blink and whispered, "I want your mouth on me."

Good girl.

"Where, Scully? Show me."

She gave me a look that told me I was going to pay big-time for being so insistent. I was smart enough not to let her know how much I was looking forward to that. Sometimes you just have to keep things to yourself.

I thought she might take the less risky option and beat around the bush (no pun intended), but she apparently didn't want to waste any more time. One hand left my hair and came to rest on her stomach. There was only a moment's hesitation before she slid it down and cupped herself.

"Here," she breathed.

Never let it be said that I give up easily; especially not when things are getting interesting.

"I'm sorry, I can't see, your hand's in the way. Where?"

She slowly made a return trip up, this time with the first two fingers of her hand spread apart. This, of course, opened her up and left the small bud of her clit peeking out. She was wet, her folds plump and glistening, shaded a deep pinkish-red.

Beautiful. My little hothouse flower.

I licked my lips in anticipation and she sighed quietly as she spotted the tip of my tongue.

"There?" I asked.

"Yes." She growled impatiently, "Jesus, Mulder, just do it."

So I leaned in and flicked my tongue once against her clit, sliding off the couch until I was on my knees. And then I went in for the kill. It was a good thing my hands were still on her ass, because her knees buckled almost immediately. She groaned low in her throat and dug her nails into my scalp.

I've never understood men who don't enjoy being on the giving end of oral sex. It's always been right up there on my list of favorite things to do. I could spend hours at it-and have. Consider it a benefit of my obvious oral fixation. Scully certainly does.

I ran my tongue along her soft folds and then pulled them into my mouth, gently sucking the flesh before letting my tongue slip inside her. She clenched tight around me, beginning to thrust and grind against my mouth as I dipped in and tasted her smoky sweetness. I drew my tongue back and then ran it up her cleft, landing on her clit and mirroring the small circles her hips had begun to make.

Scully was moaning and whispering nonsense words, her legs grower weaker as the minutes ticked by. I wasn't sure how much longer I'd be able to hold her up and my neck was beginning to complain about my awkward position anyway. So I pulled away and shoved the coffee table out a few feet, lying down on my back on the floor. I ended up with Scully standing above me, her feet planted on either side of my waist.

She gave a little grunt of disappointment and then squatted and reached down, going for the buttons on my jeans. I grabbed her wrists to stop her. She looked down at me with unfocused eyes, her tongue snaking out to wet her lips.

"Uh-uh." I let go and grabbed her hips, pulling her up toward me. "C'mere, I'm not finished yet." She crawled up until her knees were next to my ears and settled right down on my face.

Oh, yeah. It was heaven. It was as good as it got.

Somewhere along the line, I reached down and undid my fly. My cock had gotten progressively larger and harder and I was afraid the little bugger might suffocate if I didn't give him some air. It eased the pressure but not my discomfort. My cock was aching to do what my fingers and tongue were busy at.

But that's just part of the fun-holding off until you can't stand it anymore. God knows Scully and I had made it an art form, waiting over five years before we finally gave in the first time. Now that I knew she wasn't going anywhere, it was nothing to wait until I'd made good on my word to give her what she wanted.

Just a few minutes later Scully went stiff, her back snapping straight, and noisily came. She ground against me a little longer, riding it out, and then folded bonelessly at the waist. She braced her hands on the floor above my head and I wiggled out from beneath her and got on my knees. I quickly hauled off my t-shirt and then shoved my jeans and boxers down my hips. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I lifted her ass in the air. And then, not giving her time to catch her breath, I buried my cock inside her in one savage thrust.

She squeaked and I grunted and then she arched her spine and shoved back against me, matching me stroke for stroke. I knew I wasn't going to last long. I could already feel the heat coiling low in my belly, gathering strength and moving even lower, into my balls and all along the length of my cock. But I wanted to make Scully come one more time. Just once more. Her two for my one. It sounded fair to me.

I spread my knees as wide as my jeans would allow and draped myself over her. Reaching up and grabbing a breast, I pinched the nipple between my fingers and then slid my hand down her belly and found her clit.

"Oh, Mulder."

It was first intelligible thing she'd said in several minutes, and it came out in a low keen. I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell her how fucking good she felt - tight, hot, wet, squeezing around me - but I was beyond words, beyond any thought but relieving the ache in my balls and the screaming in my head. I settled for turning my face into her neck and taking her earlobe between my teeth. I bit down just as she came and she bucked violently against me.

Two, three, four more thrusts and I followed her down, throwing my head back and growling like a goddamn animal. I kept pounding into her long after my cock stop spasming and she'd milked me dry, not wanting to stop what had felt so unbelievably good. But my knees gave out in the end, forcing me to lift myself off her back and collapse on the floor next to her.

Scully's face was buried in the carpet, her fiery hair a tousled mess, her legs and arms akimbo. Her back was rising and falling rapidly as she desperately sucked in air. I fought to control my own breathing and reached over to run a hand down her sweat- covered back, coming to rest on the swell of her ass and giving it a friendly squeeze.

She lifted her head a few minutes later and turned her face toward me, squinting at me through the hair that fell over her eyes.

"Hi," I murmured.

She groaned in reply and opened her eyes all the way, looking me over. A slow smile spread across her face.

"What?" I asked.

She snickered. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look, Mulder?"

I looked down at myself and then back at her, grinning like a fool. My jeans and boxers were bunched around my knees, my feet still encased in boots, my erection rapidly deflating and lying wet and limp against my thigh. All in all, not exactly the model of suave sophistication. "I didn't hear you complaining earlier, Scully. Besides, you're not exactly cover girl material yourself at the moment."

"Depends on what magazine I'd be posing for." She made a 'gotcha' face, obviously pleased with herself.

I chuckled and pulled her closer, "Baby, you can pose for me anytime you want."

"I figured as much. And don't call me baby." She levered up on an elbow and brushed the hair from her face. I watched, with much appreciation, the sway of her breasts. "Mulder, kiss me."

"With pleasure." I wrapped a hand around the nape of her neck and guided her mouth down to mine. The first touch of her lips was electric, like a high-voltage current shooting through my body.

Scully and I are stingy with our kisses. I guess part of the reason is that neither one of us wants to get used to them. They're incredible, you see, and it would be far too easy to become addicted to them, to want to indulge without any thought as to where we are or what we should be doing instead. Too easy to be in the office or out in the field and be overwhelmed by an intense desire to turn to each other and grab a big, fat, wet kiss. So we dole them out carefully.

But that's not the only reason. It goes deeper than that. I think maybe it's because getting to that first kiss took so much longer than anything else. There's something even more special about kissing her than fucking her. I know it may sound strange to you, but then Scully and I have never exactly been poster children for normal behavior.

Eons later we broke apart and I licked the taste of her from my lips. She peered at me drowsily and declared, "You know, this is completely unfair of you."

"What is?"

"Taking advantage of me the way you just did. Pulling your profiling wonder boy act and figuring out what my problem was."

I smiled in victory. "Does this mean I can pencil you in for a repeat performance in about, oh, twenty-six days?"

"I have to wait that long?"

I tossed back my head and laughed as I gathered her into my arms. "You don't have to wait at all. Like I told you: all you have to do is tell me and I'm there. Whatever you want, whenever you want it. Your secret is safe with me."

"At the rate we're going, I won't have any secrets left."

I drew back a little and looked at her. "Would that be such a bad thing?"

"My mother always said a woman should have one or two secrets, just to maintain an air of mystery."

"And what do you say, Scully?"

"I say," she stretched up and kissed me, "that some secrets are too good to keep to yourself."

I couldn't have agreed more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

#txf #msr #fanfic #one from the vault #red letter day #i'm still proud of this one #it came out just the way i wanted it to #and that doesn't happen often #i love writing slightly clueless but enthusiastic and sincere mulder

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fragileizywriting · 2 years ago

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okay love maybe isn't stored in pricey, exponsive things, and she and adrien have gotten into arguments about it, but she can't deny the... allure. the salivation. the absolute zing that goes through her head after taking such a lovely tour of the louvre (special access because her boyfriend is special is so great!) and they're just meandering around, passing the gardens, going around again, and they end up in front of a louboutin store when the three of them are trying to decide what else to do on their lazy sunday.

just a gentle look over has her eyes dilating like an animal when she spots this on the dazzling, beautiful gold-and-acryllic stand.

scalloped, gradient, tall? she likes all of these things. it matches her horns. and it's tall, too. god, she likes it tall.

her face is almost blank as she admires it for a split second, willing to every ounce and mL of magic in her body to stop herself from pinging that she wants it.

god, she wants it.

there's no price tag anywhere on the acryllic stand— why would there be? that would be ridiculous— but she can't imagine it's anywhere near a sane number. luka asks if she's hungry and marinette smiles and nods and does her very very very very best to snap her eyes away and pay attention.

does she want italian? he asks. french, even?

there's a place, a hole in the wall a few blocks away that adrien heard some amazing things from, somewhere rich but casual, because marinette always feels a little silly whenever she walks into these rich people places wearing sandals and maxi skirts and old band teeshirts instead of actually wearing socially acceptable clothes to these things. she has pearls, god knows she does, but they always walk in to pearl-allowed places like they just got out of a roadtrip. no one dares refuse the prince of hell, but she does not like the attention that comes with wearing wrong clothes.

"whatever you both want," she tells them with a smile. looks like her magic somehow managed to hide it, after all. score! and yet... she's almost a little disappointed. "maybe let luka pick, though. he's been craving sushi for a while."

"you okay?" luka asks.

"i'm fine, why?"

"you're looking a little..." adrien searches for a word. "off."

she raises a brow. "'off'?"

"a little off."

"what's off?"

"you don't look sad, but you look a little sad."

"nothing's wrong," she laughs. "maybe i'm just hungry and tired."

luka looks concerned. "hungry? or hungry?"

"hungry. come on, angel, pick a place for us to go! don't stall!"

luka's busy typing in the address for the place they want to go, mumbling to himself how his thumbs are too big and he keeps hitting the wrong keys. she almost thinks she's gotten away with it— even if she wanted it, just how much is it? it's not like she'd have a place to wear something like this, anyway. a club probably isn't the place for such an expensive heel. and it's not like she works a desk job... and this definitely wouldn't be useful at the nursery. but adrien is perceptive. adrien is perceptive in the way she stares through the window out of the corner of her eyes, even though there's nothing on her face.

"huh," adrien simply says, as marinette fiddles with this little keychain tassle she made to put on her totebag. "that shoe looks pretty, huh?"

"y-yeah."

"the color reminds me of your horns," adrien continues. "it's a good height, too. anything taller and you'd be teetering forward."

"mmmhmm."

his gaze slides over to hers. green eyes blazing in the afternoon light. "how come you're hiding that you want this shoe, princess?"

"wh—"

"your wishes sound very clinical, which means you're doing your succubus magic to mask. what's going on, beautiful?"

great...

"have you bothered to look at the store brand?" with a point and a tap of her heel, she crosses her arms. "breathing in there costs two hundred euros. this shoe doesn't even have that little tag telling you how much it is! it's probably in the thousands—"

"it's a good thing we can afford it."

she squeaks. "adrien, no, we can't just—"

"—you're an empress," he tells her, pulling open the door. a giant hand finds a home on her lower back, just like usual, guiding her inside.

"not anymore!" she whispers.

"yes, you are. i'm getting you everything you should've had back then. come on, angel, put your phone down; i need to buy something real quick."

#speakizys #demon lovin

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jessreallywantsitall · 2 years ago

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Trigger warning: blood & miscarriage

It might be strange to even share this but I need to get this off my chest. None of you know this but since March Lauren and I have been trying to get me pregnant through IUI at a fertility clinic in a hospital. We've done two rounds of treatments and we found out on Sunday that I was pregnant.

Yesterday I started bleeding. It wasn't a lot and I didn't have any other symptoms that accompany a miscarriage like cramping. It was very scary. I called the hospital where we had been doing the treatments and they assured me this could very well be more implantation bleeding or hormonal bleeding. If it didn't get worse and I didn't have cramping I didn't have to be concerned. Well, it got worse and I started having painful cramps. This morning the hospital was still hopeful this could be heavy hormonal bleeding since I wasn't passing any clots and I wasn't saturating pads with blood (not enough blood loss to indicate a miscarriage). Although the volume of blood hasn't increased, I am now unfortunately passing clots, too. I have no confirmation and really won't have any until I'm seen by a doctor (if the bleeding continues I will call again tomorrow) but it feels like this is the end of it. I've been crying on and off today, not sure how to feel. It's still all very early so I didn't feel an extreme attachment to the pregnancy but the thought of having to cancel our 8 week ultrasound and go through the IUI again makes me want to curl up into bed and not wake up for a few days. It was only 4 weeks and 2 days but I was very happy to be pregnant. We've been waiting for 2 years to start our treatments and to finally be pregnant felt so amazing.

Miscarriage is so common. A lot of early miscarriages aren't even recorded in data because it can be mistaken for a late period and yet it is reported that 10%-20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage. So, it's common. It doesn't have to mean anything other than bad luck or an embryo that wasn't good. No need to be scared for further treatments or fertility issues. These facts don't comfort me much now but I have to keep reminding myself of these things. My mom had a miscarriage at 6 weeks with her first pregnancy. Then two pregnancies that resulted in me and my brother. It's totally doable. Right now, I'm just sad and scared.

Lauren suggested we contact a doctor to get an ultrasound or a blood test since we haven't seen any improvement but the thought of someone touching me.... I've never felt uncomfortable with any of the fertility exams or the IUI procedures but right now I don't want anyone near me other than Lauren. She's been so supportive and respectful of my feelings and my body. I know she shares my feelings (she has read this and it's posted with her permission) and we're just trying to support each other. All we can do is hold each other and wait.

#welcome to my weird world #if you're not a place to read something sad maybe skip this one #things are still unsure but I just don't have a good feeling about it

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ankurahospitalvijayawada · 6 days ago

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Prioritizing Women’s Health Beyond Traditional Hours with Sunday and Evening OPD at Ankura Hospital

Why restrict time when it comes to health, especially for women who work tirelessly for others without ever looking at the clock?

Consult us after office hours, or on a Sunday, at your convenience!

Healthcare needs for women are diverse and often arise beyond the confines of regular working hours. At Ankura, we understand these challenges and are thus excited to announce the commencement of our Sunday and Evening Outpatient Department (OPD) services. This initiative is tailored to provide comprehensive and accessible healthcare solutions, ensuring that time is never an hinderance when it comes to women’s health and well-being.

Why Sunday and Evening OPDs Matter for Women?

Modern lifestyles are characterized by hectic schedules, professional commitments, and family responsibilities. In such a scenario, healthcare appointments often get postponed, leading to delays in diagnosis and treatment. This is especially true for women who often prioritize their families over their own health. Sunday and Evening OPDs offer a solution to this concern by providing flexibility and convenience.

Who can benefit from Sunday and Evening OPDs?

While OPD at this flexible hour can benefit all women, it can be specifically helpful for-

Working Women: Women with demanding work schedules can now consult gynecologists and other specialists without taking time off from work.

Mothers and Caregivers: Women who prioritize their family’s health over their own can now seek medical care at more convenient times.

Elderly women: Elderly women who require assistance and company from their working children, can choose to visit us at this flexible hour.

Emergency Follow-ups: Follow-up consultations can now be scheduled without disrupting weekday routines.

Our Services

Ankura Hospital has always been at the forefront of delivering specialized care for women. Our Sunday and Evening OPD services offer a wide range of healthcare services, including:

Gynecological Consultations: Comprehensive evaluations for menstrual issues, pelvic pain, PCOS, and other gynecological concerns.

Antenatal and Postnatal Care: Regular check-ups for expecting and new mothers, ensuring the health of both mother and baby.

Family Planning Services: Get guidance and support for contraception and reproductive health from our experts.

Menopause Care: Specialized care for women navigating the challenges of menopause.

Aesthetic and Minimal Access Surgeries: Expert consultations for minimally invasive procedures and aesthetic gynecology concerns.

Why Choose Sunday and Evening OPD?

· No more re-scheduling weekdays to seek medical care

· Reduced Waiting Time

· Easy follow-ups

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Make the Most out of Sunday and Evening OPDs!

· Schedule Prior Appointments: Book your appointment in advance and consult us at your convenience.

· Prepare Medical Records: Bring previous medical records, prescriptions, and test results for a comprehensive consultation.

· List Your Concerns: Write down any questions or concerns to discuss with the doctor.

The launch of Sunday and Evening OPDs at Ankura Hospital for Women is a testament to our commitment to holistic and inclusive healthcare. We understand the evolving needs of modern women and are dedicated to providing services that make healthcare accessible, convenient, and effective.

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coolbugs-baby-blog · 3 days ago

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week 6

6+0 feb 14 - ultrasound 1: this marks the beginning of week 6, and is also the date of my first ultrasound (see the previous post for more details). the relief i experienced was immense! unsurprisingly, due to having the ultrasound, there was some additional blood at the end of the day. but, it was still brown, meaning i wasn't freshly bleeding.

6+1 feb 15: i went about my normal routine today, but unfortunately i experienced more bleeding, similar to the previous days. this had me feeling quite worried again, though i wondered if it was at least in part due to all the walking i do. when i got home from Mass, i still had some routine house cleaning to finish up, but after that i was able to rest, which was very nice. my husband's friend came for a visit, and he helped us install our kitchen sink drain. that was so kind of him! we didn't want to tell him about the baby yet (just in case something bad happens during the first trimester or so), but my husband accidentally pulled up our chat where i'd posted a picture of the ultrasound. beans = spilled. but, it's all good, and it was actually very nice to discuss things with his friend :)

i felt some mild nausea all day, but nothing bothersome. my appetite was fairly low. the bleeding in the afternoon was, thankfully, much lighter, but nonetheless persistent.

6+2 feb 16: normally, we go to one of the nearby monasteries for sunday Mass, though either one involves quite a bit of walking. today, we opted to go to the diocesan church a few minutes' walk from our house in order to minimize the amount of movement i'd have to do. it was actually quite a lovely Mass, and i also was grateful to get some extra rest. i did have a little more light bleeding, and also passed a few clots, but it didn't seem worrisome.

6+3 feb 17 - ultrasound 2: once again, i noticed a few small clots in the morning, but otherwise the blood was minimal (and still brown/old). i was feeling well, and i wanted to go to daily Mass at a monastery, which is my usual routine, as well as get a few groceries. i went out early in the morning. everything was fine until i was walking to the bus stop after Mass - i felt a bit of bleeding occurring. i brushed it off and went to the store. however, shortly after i got home, i felt more blood, and when i checked, it was dark red with a fresher appearance...

of note, i wasn't having significant cramping (maybe 1-2 out of 10 on and off), although i did have some lower back soreness.

i told my husband right away (he works from home), and in his kindness, he stopped everything he was doing and quickly called our ob/gyn. unfortunately, since the doctor's office is so small, it's fairly common for calls to go unanswered. we called a few other places, and one recommended to just go to our ob/gyn's office without an appointment. since it was nearing lunchtime, i opted to lay down to de-stress, which certainly felt very nice. honestly, i just wanted to lay there for the rest of the day because i was so tired and so afraid to go to the clinic…

after my nap, my husband graciously took off work to come with me to visit the doctor. after a short wait, he was able to perform another exam. by God's grace, the gestational and yolk sacs were still there, mostly unchanged, perhaps a little bigger, with no deformities/abnormalities or signs of bleeding. overall, it looked normal. my cervix was also closed and normal looking. my relief was immense!

however, the doctor was unable to find the source of the bleeding; therefore, he prescribed supplemental progesterone, 100mg, as well as magnesium. i pray that the bleeding will stop soon.

6+4 feb 18: i stayed in today. i even slept in! it was great to have some nicely relaxing cuddling with my husband :D i was worried i'd bleed some more, but to my relief, there was only a small amount of coffee-ground like stuff in the morning.

regarding progesterone supplements, there doesn't seem to be a lot of clinical study evidence to suggest they make a substantial difference regarding MC, especially not for mothers without a history of it. although some early studies may have suggested the potential for fetal abnormalities to arise, more recent studies seem to show no effect on the baby. i'm on a low dose of progesterone (not another kind of progestin), only 100mg, but it's administered more "directly" so to speak. during some of my cycles prior to conception, i occasionally had yellow or dark spotting right after ovulation, so i'm slightly worried i could have low progesterone in general, especially since i'm underweight for my comfort. regardless, i'm all the more grateful to be on this medication, even if it doesn't do much to help.

that being said, if an embryo simply isn't viable, then it will perish naturally because it's unable to grow, and the mother will MC as an unfortunate but necessary outcome. since we could still see a normal sac etc. on yesterday's ultrasound, we remain hopeful.

6+5 feb 19: i ventured out today for my typical routine. i still had a small amount of spotting; i wonder if it was from all the walking, or something else. i think i'll try to take it easy tomorrow with less movement and more rest.

otherwise, i felt very tired this morning which prompted an early afternoon nap. i haven't had much cramping or other discomfort at all the last few days, although my appetite is still low. i've also noticed that more of my "typical" foods have become quite unappealing.

6+6 feb 20: and now we embark upon the final day of week 6. i think from now on i'll just write out any concerns or symptoms unless something special happens on a given day.

concerns: still had a very small amount of spotting. symptoms: very mild cramps a few times (1/10). mild fatigue (4/10). moderately low appetite (5/10). low nausea (2/10). digestive issues (3/10). notes: i went to church and thus walked about 30 minutes total. i went right home afterward. it's very hard to focus on studying. i eventually took a 1.5 hour nap.

#week 6 #first trimester

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magicmumu2 · 2 months ago

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😮‍💨 well, today is the last day of open enrollment for the state of Idaho. It is possible that healthcare.gov may have extended theirs, but you need to go online to look that shit up. Don't be calling me. I'm about to have a huge amount of breakfast for dinner, but I'm just sitting in the near darkness of my apartment where it's also very quiet and just sitting here for a second. It's just been a crazy busy loud ass day and I've been kind of on the move since 7:00 this morning. I also have an early day tomorrow for the rest of this week until January 3rd. I am still trying to figure out a way to get the day before and the day of my 40th birthday because as it stands with the first of the year being off already I could maybe have a 5-day weekend if I use two of my PTO days. Only thing is with this stuff that I have going on with my legs and all of my appointments and stuff I will probably have to use a couple hours of PTO because the clinic is open at the same time my work hours are and I can't choose one or the other. I can't not go to these appointments or my feet will blowing up again and cellulitis is a bitch. But at the same time I'm like really on thin ice with my attendance and they use PTO for any medical leave. I just don't think it's fair cuz I don't choose the schedule or the clinic hours and I have to pay for it out of my own days off. So I don't know I might just take the second off and call in sick on the 3rd or vice versa and take that 5 days off anyway and then just suffer the consequences later. I want that 5-day weekend fuck it all. Anyway I'm going to eat some breakfast food and I'm going to watch it for 10:00 cartoons and stuff from the Sunday animation on Fox if they had them playing yesterday and if not that then I'll watch season 4 of the great North. Either way I'm chillin'. I kind of wonder how many people will try to call in tomorrow and pull a fast one by saying they thought that tomorrow was the last day of open enrollment when we've been telling them literally for 2 months what day you open enrollment ends. And even throughout the year we tell people when open enrollment is so...

Okay, I'm done.

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trudental · 4 months ago

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Weekend Emergency Dentist Near Me in Charlotte

Weekend Emergency Dentist in Charlotte: You might think that dental offices only operate on weekdays, but that belief couldn’t be more outdated. The truth is, life doesn’t stop just because it’s Saturday or Sunday—and neither do dental emergencies. Whether you crack a tooth or have a throbbing toothache on a weekend, it’s comforting to know that dentists open on Saturdays in Charlotte, NC are here to help. The idea that dental care is inaccessible on weekends? That’s yesterday’s news.

In fact, finding an urgent dental office in Charlotte, NC is easier than you’d expect. Forget the myth that emergency care means a long wait at a hospital; weekend dental services are available to address your needs with the same expertise you'd expect during the week.

How It Works

So, how does it work? It's simple: if you're dealing with a dental emergency on a weekend, all you have to do is search for a weekend emergency dentist near you. Many clinics, including TRUDental, offer extended hours on weekends, specifically for urgent cases. You can book an appointment online or give them a quick call, and they’ll fit you in as soon as possible—often the same day.

Benefits

The biggest advantage? No more waiting through the pain until Monday morning. Weekend dental services in Charlotte can provide immediate relief from infections, toothaches, or even a broken tooth, so you can get back to enjoying your weekend. Plus, these emergency visits can prevent long-term damage, saving you both time and money down the road.

After Care

Once your emergency dental issue is treated, aftercare is crucial. Your dentist will guide you on pain management, recommend a soft-food diet, and suggest medications if necessary. Following their advice closely will help ensure a speedy recovery, allowing you to avoid any follow-up problems.

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casspurrjoybell-27 · 9 months ago

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Our Hearts Collided - Prologue

*Warning Adult Content*

The flowers hardly had a chance to wilt by the time Vince arrived.

Occasionally, a petal or leaf would fall but they remained vibrant and full of life, for the most part, a result of Vince's weekly visits since Simon had left.

Vince had made it a ritual to care for the garden and keep it pristine.

He'd clip flowers and arrange bouquets with Helen from across the street before walking over and spending his Sundays in the garden.

The garden had been flourishing, as well as Vince's self-reflection.

Along with his sessions with Chase, Vince was starting to see a change in himself.

Relief, almost free of the burden of being weighed down by his self-critical thoughts.

Of course, they weren't completely gone but Vince was working on it.

He owed his progress to the garden as well.

The longer he stayed and shared his heart out, the freer Vince felt.

With the sky as clear as today and the slight wind from the mountains, Vince could almost smell it... Simon's scent and when he read his letter, his eyes tracing every hand-written word, Simon's voice seemed to whisper in his ear.

If Vince were lucky, he'd sometimes picture Simon by his side, the ghost-like presence of their once joined hands.

If he shut his eyes, he remembered how warm they felt in his, the reassurance they brought as their fingers interlaced.

It was days like this that Vince reflected the most, days he savored, no matter how much it hurt.

Simon was still here, in spirit.

Vince knew he should've called, should've reached out or even visited him in person but the wounds were still raw.

As Simon wrote in his letter, Vince needed more time.

He needed to forgive himself and be the best version of himself.

Vince still had room to grow and still had things he needed to address before considering seeing Simon with the composure and dignity he deserved.

He owed Simon that much, at the least.

Vince took his time watering the flowerbeds and cleaning up any dead flowers or trash others left behind.

He saved reading his letters aloud for last before placing them in a box near Simon's stone.

Each letter Vince wrote, he learned a little more about his feelings, thoughts and complicated emotions.

Like journal entries, Chase had called it a series of letters for Vince to help get it all out and it worked.

After reading this week's letter, Vince set it down, taking in the sight of the garden and reflecting on his past actions.

His cell-phone buzzed, distracting him from his moment of introspection.

Aspen's name flashed on the screen.

"It's happening."

Aspen's panicked voice breathed over the line.

"The baby's coming and I'm freaking out."

"Isn't this too early?"

Aspen let out a nervous breath.

"Yeah, he wasn't supposed to be born for another month."

"Shit, I'll be there," Vince replied before standing up.

"If you still want me to be there..."

"Of course, Sarah insisted."

"Alright."

Vince waited for Aspen to hang up before looking back down at the growing collection of flowers, cards and gifts.

He had taken a liking to organize the pile, occasionally collecting them in a box to store under the shelter of the pack-house.

Vince would often change out the flowers others left, cleaned up any of the trash that flew into the yard or even pruned the hedges and flowers near the other stones.

With the supplies from Helen across the street, Vince had even helped paint the fence and benches, reinforced the pathway and scrubbed the stones like new.

It was the least he could do, Vince believed.

He took a long last look at the memorial garden before walking to the pack hospital.

*********

Since the changes in regulations and rules Xavier established, the pack clinic had expanded.

This included more beds, and equipment had been installed to accommodate the influx of rogues initiated.

Vince didn't know what to expect in the maternity ward.

He had never witnessed a birth, not even Xavier's birth.

Even when Vince had been with Sarah, he had hardly made it to her fertility appointments either. He approached the nurse's station with a sense of urgency, the nurse quickly directing him to the second floor.

Sarah's screams could be heard from behind the door, the sound of her labor paining Vince.

Despite their strained past, they regarded each other as friends and being by her side for sixteen years left Vince aching to ease her pain.

Over the months of writing and therapy, Vince realized that he cared for her, possibly even loved her but it had never been in the way he had intended when he declared her his mate all those years ago.

No, that feeling was more like a friendship, even if he had wronged her in ways that it should have ended their already compromised friendship but Vince knew that kind of love he thought he wanted was different.

She was never his mate, to begin with.

Of course, at one point, Vince had imagined him there with her, holding her hand as she delivered their child.

For sixteen years, Vince had thought that that was a possibility for them but seeing the look of glee and ardor that passed between her and her mate, the feeling of intruding on something so personal made Vince hesitate.

Averting his eyes, Vince stepped away from the glass, settling in a chair across the hall.

He'd give them all the time and privacy they needed, after all, it was a delicate and joyous celebration for their addition to the family.

It was evident in how Aspen and Sarah looked at each other, in how they regarded their child.

The love between a mated couple was drastically different.

Vince had seen it in the way Aspen clutched her hand, the reassuring touches, he could just feel how strong their love was for each other.

He had often wondered if he'd ever feel that kind of love with Simon.

Vince fiddled with his cell-phone, his thoughts wandering to his mate.

It seemed everything reminded him of Simon.

Had he heard the news?

Would he be here to hold the baby and celebrate too?

And if he were to show up, was Vince ready to face him?

It had only been a month since he last saw him at the bar, Vince wasn't sure if he could say he had gotten better since then.

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