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z3nitsusgf · 2 months ago

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Megalomaniac

ford/reader: NSFW, oral, fem!reader, manipulation, intoxication, drugging, bill being creepy (normal), ford needs therapy after this

Stanford, in his right normal mind, would never dare to step foot in a place like this. This shitty depraved club, full of young bodies that didn’t have a care in the world other than to blow coke and drink till their livers hurt.

The music, some up-tempo beat that pulses in his ears, has everyone swaying and pressed against one another. Vulgar and unsanitary and so very alluring.

“What even is this shit?”

Ford mutters, Bill laughing and scanning each person under the neon pink and fluorescent blue.

Ford knows, faintly, that this isn’t his style. The back part of his subconscious screaming that this is irrational - a sick demented game that’s spurred on by the demon in his mind.

Cipher is singing in his head, his voice cawing like a bird over the Savanah. He is absorbing everything. Sights, smells, sounds - tastes.

Ford has no clue how long he’s been here. In all honesty, he doesn’t remember walking in or drinking or- his nose burns. When he goes to scratch he feels some powdery substance falling like snow. What in the hell? He blinks rapidly under the pulse of the strobing lights.

“Bill-“

“Lighten up Specs, relax.”

He does it without question. His body almost immediately fell into place without his consent. Bill is a demanding creature; selfish, cruel, and unreasonable. Bill is playing Ford as his own personal marionette. Moving his body through the crowds of hot sticky bodies. Flesh, bone, blood, marrow- Ford’s mouth waters uncontrollably. There is something wrong with him.

“I gotta say, Sixer, this is some hot shit.” Bill coos, piloting Ford’s body through to the bar. A sleek counter made of dark wood, various sticky stains of alcohol line it, and the glow of bottles illuminating behind the barkeep is almost entrancing.

“Cipher… what’s the point of this?”

Ford is growing irritated. He doesn’t understand the need for this… recklessness. He was never meant for this, Stan was more equipped to handle outings like these. Especially with the people that occupy this place. Ford purses his lips, there is a feral gnawing in the back of his throat.

There are women everywhere in tight dresses, too-short skirts, and low-cut bra-less tops that let him see the swell of their breasts. He averts his gaze the best he can without Bill rearing back to stare. Ford has this horrible thought of splitting them apart, he bites at his lip until he tastes the sickly sweet iron that pools on his tongue.

“Well my good friend, you are in desperate need of a break. As much as I hate to say it. You need to let loose, have some fun. Can’t have you croaking and ruining everything.”

So simple when it comes from his mouth.

Ford purses his lips, unsure and weary. Bill hasn’t been wrong yet, and he’s too scattered to even argue.

“Couldn’t I just, I dunno, stay home and read a book or-“

“No! You’ll just end up working again. And besides, you’re a good looking guy, you need some serious lay.”

Bill laughs in his head, he laughs even more when Ford blushes and looks down.

“You know I’m not used to-“

“Come on Sixer, look at that one, she’s exactly your type.”

Bill forces his head up, making Ford look at a gorgeous woman. A gorgeous woman who plops next to him at the bar.

You’re wearing a dress? Or what he assumes is a dress. Is this even clothing? He wonders. The other downside of having Bill in his head is that he can hear the dirty thoughts that filter through Ford’s brain.

“Jesus Christ, look at that hottie. Talk to her Fordsy, or I will.”

Ford grips the glass of liquor in his hand, when did he get that? He can’t even remember ordering. It’s bourbon, he thinks. Or he hopes. He doesn’t know. It burns its way down his trachea, leaving behind the aftertaste of burnt wood and orange peel.

His body is tingling, he wonders if his pupils are blown and if the sweat is really sweat or something else. He trails his eyes over your body, blinking rapidly at the colors spraying new hues with each second. Perhaps he is in the dreamscape, this is all some demented dream crafted by Bill. But that doesn't mean he can't indulge, right?

Your dress is tight, hugging you close and short enough that if you were to bend over, Ford is 100% sure he’d be able to see your panties. The strap of your bra is showing, and the plunging v on your dress shows that it’s lacy. He wonders, faintly, what you would look like inside. Blood, sinew, tissue; red and bleeding and torn into pieces.

God he’s becoming unhinged.

You slink next to him, legs sliding onto the stool and your strappy heels hooking onto the rungs. You have nice legs, pretty and smooth and trailing up to the expanse of your thigh he can see the peeking of tattoos and if you turn he can see your cun- he needs to quit.

You yell to the bartender for another cosmo, chest pushed up onto your forearms. Ford tries not to stare at the way your tits push up and almost out of your dress. You’re about to pay, pulling a wad of cash from your purse.

Make your move Six, I’m about to jump in for you-

“No!” Ford spits, you jump at his voice and Ford internally curses when he realizes he’s said it out loud.

“No?” You tilt your head, confused and a little nervous. Hands playing with your purse as you brace yourself to get up and leave. You have dark polish on your nails, your wrists embraced in golden bangles.

“I mean- fuck, I mean no, I’ll pay.”

You raise an arched brow, fiddling with the glass stem and tapping your fingers on the wooden tabletop.

“Okay… thank you.”

He stares at your face. The wild mused up licks of your hair, the smoky dark smears of makeup under your eyes, the full plushy softness of your parted lips. You’re dewy and sparkly and goddamn you’re gorgeous.

You look at the man in front of you with owlish observation. Looking at the button-up that’s open at the top, the cool slate-colored khaki pants. He’s older, much older than you are. But he’s still very very handsome. Handsome enough that you wouldn’t mind jumping his bones for a night.

He’s a little shy looking, and you find it funny that an older man like him is so nervous to talk to a woman. You give him a sweet saccharine smile, lips all glossy and smooth that Ford wants to lick the sheen right from your mouth.

“You gonna pay or?”

The bartender breaks the ice cold tension between you. And Ford is slapping down a $5 bill and practically shooing the bartender away.

"That’s what I’m talking about you old geezer! Nice. Now take her home and fuck the shit out of her."

Ford's mind can’t keep up. He’s distracted and confused and his head is full of mysterious liquor and drugs and god - he can’t think straight. All he knows is that you’re inching closer and closer to him and you’re so close he can smell the lime and tequila from your mouth.

“Never seen you around before, handsome.”

You graze your nails along his forearm, the hair on his skin raising with goosebumps at the prickle-like sensation. He blinks hard, glasses foggy and his vision bleary. You’re fading in and out of his field of view, he doesn’t mind though. He wants to take a bite out of your neck, imagining how beautiful you'd look. Like a misty mosaic of broken glass turned diamonds, he feels a stab of hunger for you.

“So you’re a Doctor?”

Ford snaps back to reality, has he been having a conversation with you? What have you been talking about? He just nods, “Yes, uh, sort of. I mean, I have a PhD and all that, but it’s more of a research thing-“

You giggle, it’s muted over the bass-blasting music but still, it’s sticky sweet like honey and your skin is so shiny, almost glittery. He wants to lick the perspiration off your neck.

“Wanna go somewhere quieter?” You ask, talking into his ear so he can hear.

“Yes, of course.”

Time doesn’t exist. Ford doesn’t know if it’s his state of mind, or Bill. All he knows is that he blinks and you two are in a private back room. You’re seated next to him on a cherry leather love-seat. Legs dangled over his lap and dress pooling up over the tops of your thighs.

He’s got his hands on your skin, gripping at the meat of your thighs, closing in on your ass. It’s soft, malleable between his palms. It’s weird, he can’t tell if it’s the dreamscape or real or a hallucination or-

You’re kissing the side of his neck, mouthing sloppily at the hot skin and Ford is whining. You're staining his neck in dark pomegranate-colored marks, chewing on him like a dog, like meat left on bones.

“Is this what you want, baby?”

You mumble against his flesh, he swears he can feel the sharp razor edge of your canines in his jugular. He dismisses it. He wants you entirely, forever and ever.

He nods, hands gripping your hips with his head thrown back. The room smells like liquor and cigarettes and something faintly sulphuric. The faintest of alarm bells ring in his brain, he’s too high and far away to care. There is a pang of consumption in his belly, that need.

"Yes," he pants, your tone is velvet and Ford can't resist.

And Bill- Bill is whispering depraved things into the spongy linings of his mind, soaking his brain with thoughts that would have anyone slack-jawed and in awe. He's aware of his... inexperience, it only makes it more tempting to ruin it, smash it apart like how he deserves.

Ford is losing his fucking mind. Time is leaking out of his mind, fading and bursting in maniacal bubbles that have him reeling. Animal-thirst that melts into his spine and he's too far gone to ever argue against it.

He comes to when he feels a jolt of pleasure throughout his body.

You’re devouring him, literally and figuratively. If he focuses too hard on the way you work your mouth on him, he’ll end up cumming.

You’re bent over him like a preying tiger. Back arched in a sinfully beautiful way, the curve of your hips sloping into your ass has him biting his lip. The lacy stripes of your thong are digging into the plushy softness of your skin, that teasing line drawn down to your center.

He fists the cushion, nails sliding across the leather. He can’t quite grasp it, it’s slipping like sifting sand through his fingers. He doesn’t know if he should grip your hair or the armrest or just sit up and fuck your throat. Could he even do that?

“How are you- oh god,”

You’ve got him down to the base, tip hitting the back of your throat. You take it like a grade-A pornstar, not even gagging once. When you pull off, you don’t stop. Moving your hand up and down like you’ve gone mad. A half-hard grip that makes him buck his hips. He had no idea if this was even real, it sure as hell felt like it.

Eerily enough, Bill has gone silent in his mind. Which gives him the faintest of relief that the man demon isn't watching this unfold. This debauched spectacle of depraved carnal lust.

“Jesus, why are you so good at this?” He pants, tongue heavy like lava on his palate.

His vision is blurry, his glasses are foggy and god- you’re like a fucking nymph with the way you suck him off. He thinks you’re perfect. You’re a dreamy watercolor expression that’s painted across his lap like a heaven-sent dove. Sweet and sticky like warm caramel.

You swipe the pad of your thumb along the underside of his cherry-red head, spreading the saliva and pre that’s slicked the thick shaft of his cock.

“Does that feel good, baby?” You purr, humming softly when he whines a soft yes.

You lick a fat stripe from base to tip, tonguing at the thick vein that pulses along the underside. He might just be in love, this intimacy was foreign, and he's going mad with touch.

“Holy shit-“

You giggle, hand working sloppy smooth jerks on his cock. You lower yourself, kissing and sucking at his fat balls, lapping at in a way that has him nearly howling at with the feeling.

His hips buck into your palms, he’s tightroping the line of falling straight into your trap and just taking you for himself. He’s too oblivious to see the flash of yellow in your pupils. He’s not used to this, not at all.

"Don't run from it." You murmur, skimming a free hand up his thigh. Nails dragging across the skin, sharp and unforgiving.

If he were sober, he’d be unable to do this. Unable to handle the attention, the touch. He grabs at your hair, fingers running through the strands and feeling it. Real as he can believe.

“You gonna cum for me?” You murmur, the vibration of your voice sending shockwaves of pleasure through his spine.

He moans, nodding so hard you’d think his head would fall off his shoulders. The back of his skull hitting the headrest of the love seat.

He’s so close, so close that it’s winding up in his stomach and about to explode.

You pull back.

It’s like cold water has been thrown on him. He gasps, fists clenching the seat cushion and hips frantically chasing your hand, your mouth, anything. The moments are slipping, hand in hand like a timetable turned over, desperate.

He tries to zero in on you, you’re blurred. Your eyes are dark, lips curled. He’d be scared if you didn’t look so hot. You sit up from your knees, standing and leaning over him.

“Why?” He gasps, the high fading and he’s tempted to just finish himself when you grab at his wrist.

Unnaturally strong, he thinks.

You tsk and wrap your palms around the thick of his wrist, carpal bones shifting and you maneuver it to the apex of your cunt. Grazing his fingers against the lacy surface of your thong.

“Wouldn’t you rather fuck me?” You purr, voice sultry and so sugary sweet that Ford could get a toothache. He groans, he can’t move away so he flexes his fingers against the sopping wet cover. You’re drenched.

You straddle him, cupping his face and leaning down to his ear. You swipe your tongue along the shell, sucking at the lobe and smirking when he shivers. His palm is flat against your cunt and you grind yourself into it, letting him feel the slickness.

“You wanna fuck me, hm? Wanna feel me?”

Ford nods, humming as he pets your mound. He's stuck, stuck between making himself cum and fucking your mouthwatering cunt.

“You said you were going to leave Gravity Falls, I’d be so sad if you did.” You murmur.

Had he said that? He doesn’t recall ever speaking about that, but then again he doesn’t care right now.

“I wouldn’t want this to be a one time thing, ya know?” Sighing as you go to lift yourself off.

Ford whines, grabbing your hip to keep you centered. Could he truly leave after this? He thinks, as clearly as he can, what would he go back to? Nothing.

“No! I-“ his tongue is sticking to his gums, “I’m not leaving, can’t-“

He doesn’t ever want to go without you. He barely even knows you, but to think you’d do this, indefinitely… he doesn’t see the reason to leave.

Maybe the loneliness would go away and it would be bearable to stay.

"Perfect." You murmur, looking at his glazed eyes and slack-jawed expression. He looks like he wants to eat you alive.

Good job, hon. You’ve got him.

Bill pats your head, circling around you like a hyena. You nod, blowing out a puff of smoke. The demon finally creeps out from the shadows of the room.

Now he won’t ever think of leaving Gravity Falls.

“Damn, he’s out cold.” You nudge him with your foot, and Ford is practically dead to the world.

"A shame, I wanted to keep going." You're pouting, smoking on your cig, and disappointed. Too bad, you'll get more chances later.

Bill chuckles, Maybe I’ll have a little more fun with him.

When Ford wakes up he is sure that he had the most lucid dream in his life. He stretches on his bed, shirtless and… pantless? His body aches something fierce, like he’s ran a triathlon in the desert.

He has cottonmouth, coughing on the sheer dryness on his tongue. He winces when he feels a stinging itch on his lower back, his fingers going to grace over the skin, and he finds an unfamiliar patch that’s risen.

“It cant be another one-“

He gets up, staggering with a blinding headache to the mirror. Turning around to look and he almost dies of embarrassment. There, on the small of his back, the most atrocious tattoo he’s ever seen. Sprawled cursive with fake pink kissy marks that read, ‘Flirty Gal’.

“Oh my god.” He groans, the rising anger for Bill and how his body has been used.

“I think it’s cute.” Ford jumps at your voice, looking up to see you there. You’re in the doorway to his bedroom, wearing nothing but a spare shirt and your underwear. He flushes, so it wasn’t a dream.

“What even happened-“

You frown, a sappy dopey little frown, “You don’t remember?”

You’re sauntering over, Ford gets flashes of intermittent memories. Your lips on his neck, your fingers in his hair, your legs around his waist, your mouth-

He shivers, it's almost haunting.

“Ah,” you drag your finger across his jaw, “you do remember.”

You lean into his ear, “I’m glad.”

"Let's have some breakfast," You mumble, kissing his chest and turning on your heel. He watches you saunter out, a dark fluttering in his gut.

"We have a lot to talk about."

#so maybe im insane so what #bill when i catch you when i catch you bill #oh god ive fallen and i cant get up #ford pines x reader #standford pines x reader #val.writes ❦#ford pines smut

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faeryblade · 3 months ago

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|| The Ennui of Jonathan Crane || A Crane x Reader Slow Burn ||

Synopsis: It's just another boring afternoon at the office for Dr. Jonathan Ulysses Crane. Although, testing out his latest fear toxin is yielding some...interesting results.

Word Count: 5,534

TW: Dead Dove: do not eat. 18+ content, minors DNI. NSFW, SMUT. Gaslighting and manipulation. Mention of EDs. Degradation. Non-con. Implication of suicide attempt. Forced oral, anal. Use of aphrodisiac and fear toxin. Hallucinations. Power imbalance, therapist/patient. Age difference. Monster fucking (Scarecrow). Corruption. Ahegao. Creampie. Rick roll near the end.

Note: Uh, hi there. I got bit by a highly infectious idea and quickly developed super terminal Jonathan Crane!rot...which I guess I'm making everyone's problem now. This is the first chapter of a long Jonathan X Reader fic called: "Please, don't tell my psychiatrist-he'd kill me!"

Song: "Careful What You Wish For" by Jack Harris

Taglist: @caesariawritesstuff @greeneyedshooter @enochtopus-the-pressed

"I-I don't even know what I'll do. It's not like I can cancel now..."

Subject 76 picked at the fibers of her knit sweater anxiously, brows furrowed. There's a hitch to her voice. Her shoulders are slightly hunched over as if she's trying to protect herself from the topic at hand. Dr. Crane makes a note of this with a quick flourish of his ballpoint pen. Besides him, safe in her black iron cage, his pet crow, Nightmare, stares keenly at Subject 76.

"Plus, my friend has been planning this wedding for MONTHS and I'm her bridesmaid! I can't just not go to the wedding! I-I'd feel like...I dunno, like a bad friend-"

Subject 76 reached for the glass of water placed on the coffee table in front of her. She took a sip from it to settle her nerves before continuing to speak:

"Just the thought of letting her down makes me feel some awful way. Like, I don't know. I'm just, uhh. I'm just..."

"...Afraid?" Dr. Crane's smooth voice offers, almost seeming to reverberate in the air.

Subject 76 looked at her psychologist with a wide, doe-eyed expression. Her bottom lip trembled. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement that had Crane's pen scribbling furiously in his notes once more.

"No," Subject 76 denied immediately, then falters a second later, "Yes. I-I don't know, maybe??? I'm just anxious, I guess??? It's just that this wedding will be the first time in six years that I've seen my high-school friends. And I wanna make the right impression. I don't want it to look like I don't have my life together."

Subject 76 went quiet for a moment. Her gaze drew down to her wrists where thick, pink scars crisscrossed her skin. While the sweater she was wearing did its best to conceal them from sight, a few still peaked out and were clearly visible to anyone who had a wandering eye. Shame settled upon her.

"I've even started to...uhm. I..."

Subject 76 fell silent again. The woman returned to picking the threads of her sweater, tugging on its cotton weave compulsively instead of talking.

Dr. Crane glanced up from his notepad, peering over the top of his glasses to assess his subject. "Miss. Bree?" He asked, raising a single eyebrow. He waited for her to speak.

But Subject 76 pursed her lips into a thin line and ignored him.

Sighing, Crane leaned back in his chair. An edge of annoyance laced his tone as he addressed his subject...

"I don't think I have to remind you that the court has mandated your cooperation in therapy, Miss Bree. And...with anything I see fit to hasten your rehabilitation. Now, I wouldn't want to be forced legally to report you to your probation officer for resisting treatment. However, if I must-"

"WAIT!" Subject 76 cried out, terror in her eyes.

The smallest smirk twitched at the edges of Dr. Crane's lips, "Oh?"

Splitting open like a rotten pumpkin, the woman confessed that she'd started throwing up. 'Just small meals,' she'd elaborate further, attempting to lessen the impact of her words, 'Just the bad carbs and fats, nothing serious.' Subject 76 went on to talk about the dress she was trying to "look slay" for. How the bride had chosen a type of cut that left little to the imagination. And most telling to Dr. Crane of all; that she was frightened about what everyone would think when she wore it.

Crane placed his notebook and pen down on the accent table at his side, then steepled his fingers together, peering at Subject 76 with intent.

With hunger.

"Do you think your frankly lackluster endeavor to lose weight will be enough to stop the whispers and the gossip?" He asked off-handedly, making Subject 76 flinch in response, "And all the secret shared laughter at your expense?"

"W-what?"

"Just an observation, really."

Subject 76 looked confused. She blinked several times and wondered if she was hearing the what the doctor had said right. Or if somehow she was hearing him wrong instead.

"In fact, I doubt fitting into anything will improve your standing," Crane stated with a casual wave of his hand, "How do you know that you weren't invited to this...grand affair...as a joke?"

Shock spread across Subject 76's face.

"I-"

"If they were judging you in high school, six years wouldn't change anything substantial. They're no different than they were back then. Tell me, have you changed?"

Dr. Crane answered the question for Subject 76, not allowing her to explain for herself what he'd already figured:

"According to your records, you've been purging since middle school... And here you are now, still continuing to follow the same, tired, destructive pattern."

"Dr. Crane, I-"

Crane held up an authoritative hand.

"I digress, Miss. Bree," He said, "We've become a bit sidetracked here. Any form of eating disorder is categorized as self-harm. I cannot allow this to continue. As a mandated reporter, I'll have to tell your case manager. Unfortunately, I can judge by your previous history, that it's quite likely you'll be put on a 72-hour hold in a psychiatric facility. Probably here at Arkham. Contrary to Gotham's popular belief, we do treat normal citizens, too."

A fresh, new wave of panic bloomed on Subject 76's face. Tears welled up in the young woman's eyes. She shook her head, both hands rising up to clasp over her mouth, muffling the words she spoke and making them harder to hear.

"Hmm? What was that?" Dr. Crane nearly purred, making a show of leaning in closer to listen better.

"I-I can't go back there," Subject 76 replied with a choked stammering breath, "I just can't, doctor. I c-can't-"

Such marvelous fear...

Dr. Crane drank it in, savored it like fine wine. He wished he could bottle this moment to treasure for himself and keep forever. This was a human at their most beautiful.

"There is an alternative solution," Crane offered, only after Subject 76 looked about to vomit on his rug, "But I don't offer it to just anyone I treat. You, however, would be a perfect candidate."

"Really, doctor? I would?"

He barely suppressed his disgust as the woman shifted from fear-torn to hopeful at just the mere suggestion of salvation.

"Yes, but you'd have to submit to a new regimen and administration of medicine," Dr. Crane said, "Plus, we would be exploring novel paths of therapy that we've yet to approach in session. If I deem it productive, then I can forget about this reporting nonsense-"

Not to mention all the paperwork he'd have to go through because of it.

"-Does that sound amenable to you, Miss. Bree?"

"Yes!" Subject 76 answered brightly, "Anything to keep probation away!"

As if commenting on the woman's statement, Nightmare let out a series of loud, raucous caws that sounded strangely like laughter. Subject 76 glanced at the crow with uncertainty before Dr. Crane redirected her attention back onto him.

"Anything, hmm?" Crane asked curiously, taking off his glasses and tucking them into his breast pocket, "Well, that's good to know. It'll certainly make this next portion that much easier."

"Huh?"

Before Subject 76 knew what was happening, Dr. Crane was at her side; his hand gripping her ponytail and yanking her head back. She caught the sight of a spray bottle seconds prior to a strange, fine, orange mist enveloping her face. Crawling up the passages of her nose. Making her feel instantly dizzy and lightheaded. Sick.

"Yeeeah, that's right," Crane's voice cooed gently into her ear, "Breathe it all in, little lamb. Goood. Just like that..."

The effects of the toxin were instantaneous. With vested interest, Jonathan Crane watched as 76's pupils dilated until her irises nearly disappeared and her breaths came out in labored gasps that sounded painful. He grabbed the woman's wrist to check her pulse. His long fingers bit into soft flesh, leaving the crescent-shaped impressions of his nails in their wake.

"As expected," he spoke aloud, narrating more to himself than anyone else, "Patient is responsive to a 10 mg dose of K-series. BPM is at 125, within range of a common panic attack. Eyes dilated to 8 millimeters. Symptoms are much more evident than Batch 4. Most likely due to the introduction of fear prior to administration-"

A low, husky moan interrupted him:

"Mmmn, Doctor Crane. I feel so hot..."

Jonathan turned his attention back onto the test subject, who was trying to press her body to his in desperation. He felt his cock harden instantly. That spark of hunger he'd experienced moments before returned; but, it'd become ravenous now. Insistent. Snapping. It demanded to be fed. And this lost, little lamb was offering herself willingly to his opened maw. Who would refuse such a feast?

The darkness inside Jonathan took control.

Subject 76 gasped as his hand suddenly gripped her neck and pulled her closer. He grazed his lips along the woman's silky cheek, whispering softly into her ear-

"Hush now, child, your Shepherd God is here. All will be well."

-before blazing a trail of greedy kisses and bites down her shoulder, ripping off her sweater in the process. He threw it onto the carpet. Subject 76 hardly noticed. She was far too preoccupied with his explorations to care. Her eyes fluttered back into her skull as Doctor Crane teased the tender areas of her flesh with tongue and teeth. Searing heat coiled like a spring in the pit of her stomach. Another moan flew from her throat. Louder this time.

"Tell me how you feel?" Jonathan asked his prey with a commanding growl.

Subject 76 squirmed underneath his grasp.

"I-I need you," she replied, "Doctor, please! I need to feel you. I want your hands on me. I-I want you to touch me. Bite me. I need you-"

Jonathan Crane gripped her tighter.

"And how badly does that ail you, little lamb?" He crooned.

"I can't stand it!" 76 wailed out loud, tears rolling in cascades down her cheeks, "Everything's hot. I can't think straight! What's happening to me?!?"

A cruel smile curved along Jonathan's mouth. He could almost taste the woman's anguish. It was a delicious flavor. Irresistible, actually...

"You poor, suffering soul. Allow me to ease your troubled mind..."

Wrapping Subject 76's ponytail around his hand once more, Jonathan Crane seized control and dragged her face towards the bulge in his slacks. Surprisingly, she tried to resist. Visited by a brief minute of lucidity, the woman fought back on his grip, struggling (like hell) against the task he was setting her to. Jonathan scowled. He wondered if the toxin had worn off already? But another lusty moan from 76 indicated that it hadn't. It was just hitting her in symptomatic waves.

Whimpering as a new flood of heat overwhelmed her, Subject 76 wrestled with the metal buckle of Jonathan's belt and unzipped his pants. Her eyes widened upon seeing the monster that lay hiding in wait within his boxers. Huge, thick, and veined; the psychiatrist's dick eagerly sprang forth from its plaid, cotton bindings to greet her. It twitched with anticipation over what was about to happen. A sharp edge of panic sliced into her...

His cock was too big.

She wasn't given time to prepare herself. Crane's hand pressed down on the back of her head and forced his dick into her mouth. He slid his length as far as it could go, cockhead tapping the back of her throat before pulling out...then, slamming himself past her lips all over again. Each time, he pushed a little deeper, a little harder, until 76 was gagging and tears misted up her eyes. Jonathan let out a groan at the sight of it. The fear in those gorgeous, coffee brown depths made him want to fuck her harder and see how far he could push that mouth.

"Mmmff! Mmf-"

"Ahh, feels so good. Your pain is exquisite."

Subject 76 struggled as Doctor Crane increased his vicious pace and used her ponytail like a bar handle. He tugged, yanked, pulled, and directed every movement until she became nothing more than a living fleshlight. Forced to satisfy this tall, imposing beast until he was sated, 76 had never felt more helpless in her entire life. Despite that, a curious sensation was accompanying her loss of control; the enjoyment of his taste. A betrayal that she hadn't expected coming from her body! The doctor's musky flavor caused liquid heat to pool traitorously between her legs. As salty tang invaded her palate, a throb began pulsing upon her clit. Was she going mad!? How could any of this possibly feel good???

That's because you're a whore, sweetie.

The dulcet sound of her mother whispered softly into her ear. The tone was condescending, beset with mockery. Her father followed suit, his voice so clear (and vivid) that Subject 76 swore he was standing a few inches away:

We always knew you were a filthy pig, even as a child...

76 let loose a muted scream. Both her parents, in a unified chorus, continued their foul comments, prodding at every insecurity she owned while the only thing she could do was choke on Dr. Crane's dick and cry.

"Oh, you're in it now, aren't you?"

Suddenly, his movements halted. Subject 76 felt herself being hauled up by her hair to meet a pair of glowing eyes and a terrifying smile comprised of sharp, yellow fangs. She screamed again. This time, the sound was so loud it hurt her own ears. Gone was the famous psychiatrist, Dr. Jonathan Crane, and in his place...was a nightmare!

The monster seemed pleased by her horror. A dark chuckle rumbled from deep within its emaciated chest.

"My toxin has infiltrated your mind," It said with a relished growl, dragging 76 closer, "Past all your defenses. Can't you feel it tearing at your sanity? Breaking down your senses bit by bit? Reducing you to your most primal state?? Fascinating how a person can become so pliable with just a small amount of this in their system..."

Confusion washed over Subject 76. The monster was speaking eloquently. However, she could not understand any of it. Her brain had turned into a congealed soup-useless jelly-that sloshed inside her skull. Unable to make connections as it once had mere hours ago before she'd stepped foot in Doctor Crane's office. The ache between her legs was intensifying, the pulse tapping upon her clit less easy to ignore, and the sensitivity of her skin made even the smallest touch a torture. 76 cried out to God...

But only the God of Fear answered her: "Silence, lamb. Therapy is still in session."

One fluid motion was all it took for the terrifying beast to extract Subject 76 off the couch and up onto her feet. It dragged her across the confines of Dr. Crane's office, towards the gigantic curtain wall that overlooked Arkham Asylum's entrance courtyard. With a sharp and commanding tug, 76 was forced to stand before it, despite protest, so that she could see the goings-on down below. Another whimper fell out of her lips as her vision turned the gnarled trees and wrought iron fence outside into clawed hands. Five people suddenly stared up at the window from their spots on the benches near the Asylum's smoking zone. They looked so familiar. But, she could not remember why...

The monster slid behind her soundlessly. Its long talons crawled like many spiders up the sides of her arms. "This is who you really are inside, Miss Bree. Your truest self," It assured her, speaking in a matter-of-fact voice, making everything it said sound obvious and plain, "Just a trembling web of misfiring neurons in the amygdala attempting to rectify a reality too frightening to assimilate-"

The monster caressed her cheek.

"-I want to help you embrace your fear and truly understand it."

Those five people in the courtyard all raised their forefinger and, as one unit, pointed at Subject 76 with laughter twisting upon their lips. She shook her head. Averted her gaze. Took a step back to put distance between herself and the plexiglass window. Unfortunately, 76 was stopped by an unyielding wall of flesh. The beast's body was poised just a few inches away from her own and in response to her shame, it took a step forward, sandwiching her between itself and the tall, cold glass she sought to avoid. Subject 76 prayed to God again. This time, she promised Him that she would stop purging; that today was the last day she'd ever throw up her meals if He'd spare her life...

But only the God of Fear answered her: "What do you see, little lamb? What horrors keep you stuck in place?"

"I-I don't know!!"

Its spindly fingers roamed an idle path down her throat to settle upon her chest. She trembled as its razor-edged nails brushed against her nipples absentmindedly.

"I think you do," the monster insisted, "But you're resisting the awareness of it. We try to hide away from the shadows of our minds so we can live in peace during the day, don't we? It's only human. But you, little one, have nowhere left to scurry to. Nowhere you can run. The Scarecrow has come to show you the truth inside your fears..."

Allowing 76 no time to consider its words, it tore open her camisole top, exposing the bra that she wore underneath. The monster made quick work of the lace, discarding it into a pile on the carpet. Skeletal digits went seeking flesh. Subject 76 felt its boney hands grasp both her breasts and start to knead them roughly as panic washed over her. It pulled her nipples with hard pinches. First one, then the other. Then, both at the same time in a torturous rhythm that milked a lusty sigh from her throat.

76's eyes widened when she heard it. Had that perverted sound come out of her?

What a fucking slut!

That's the way she was in high school. We did it behind the bleachers, her ass was so fucking tight.

But she's so fat!!

So? The thicker they are, the thicker the juice.

Ugh, you're so gross, Mikey.

Voices from the courtyard outside intermingled with her litany of moans. The five smokers were talking, gossiping candidly amongst themselves, while they sneered at her from the benches they sat in. Subject 76 jerked away, tried to push off the monster so she could hide her naked chest and cover the shame that came with being seen. The monster didn't let her, though. Almost like it sensed her self-disgust, it pinned her up against the window glass and handled her boobs harder. Tugged and pulled them so that her rosy peaks stretched out. Pressed its throbbing, hard bulge into her ass so that she could feel it pulse. Licked a trail up the curve of her neck to taste the sweat on her skin.

The five spectators outside laughed in response to her struggles.

Pig!

Whore!

Slut!

Sudden recognition dawned upon 76. Those five, smirking people down in the courtyard were her high school friends. The ones that she would see at the wedding next week. The ones who hadn't seen her since graduation. Their blinkless stares drilled into soul her as if she were soft plywood. She could feel their scrutiny already. 76 let out a horrified scream:

"N-no! NO!!! Please! D-don't look at me!! Don't!!!"

Hot, fetid breath that smelled like decaying flesh tickled her ear when the beast spoke. "Ahhhh," It said with a sultry purr, "Scopophobia. The fear of being seen by others. Of having so many judging eyes on you. My, what a vain creature you are to think anyone would look at you? Well then, let's give your audience something...more substantial to gaze at-"

It yanked down her pleated skirt and pulled aside her thong.

"I want all of them to see and hear you sing hosannas of anguish to Scarecrow!"

Eagerly, the monster guided its cock to grind on the entrance of Subject 76's ass. And bit by bit, it pushed itself slowly into her tight, puckered hole. 76 clawed at the window as she felt this invasion begin to pump within her. Striking a curious spot inside her body that caused drool to trickle down her chin from the edges of her mouth. Each hard stroke that it gave Subject 76 made her cry, then moan, then scream, then beg the Scarecrow for forgiveness. But the monster continued to thrust (unempathetically) into her asshole without any regard. Bright stars exploded in rapid numbers behind her eyes. Building heat churned at the pit of her belly, threatening to combust. Her pussy became sopping wet as his busy hips smacked into her backside with more force, speed, and single-minded desperation than her mind could handle. 76 felt like she was going to go insane. If it kept pounding her like this, she would certainly die!

The beast let loose a satisfied groan as it tossed its burlap-shrouded head back, "Mmn, fuck, yes! Show everyone what a sick little dirty whore you are for the God of Fear. Let the many, many eyes witness your senseless fright, you pig!"

"N-nnnooo!! M'nuh a pig, d-daddy! I'm clean! I'm clean!!"

"You're as filthy as they come. There's no doubts about that," the monster growled low and darkly, clamping its taloned grip upon both sides of 76's hips to hold her steady while it readjusted inside of her ass.

Subject 76 squirmed.

"Be still, slut!"

This was the only warning she received before its cock went to work. Now, positioned at a different angle, the monster penetrated her ass deeper. A wave of euphoria and fear swept over Subject 76 as she felt sensation after sensation threatening to break her. In. Out. Faster and harder. Rougher. The sheer brutality with which it fucked her body senseless was quickly burning a giant hole in her psyche and rearranging her brain chemistry into a shape she didn't recognize...

A transformation, Subject 76 soon realized, that she was quite helpless to stop.

In fact, 76 found that she was starting to like this new state; moaning, panting, squirming, crying!! Begging for her life. Getting so thoroughly railed by the God of Terror that it forced her eyes to roll back and her mouth fall open and her mind to go completely blank with the only thought she had (or could adequately retain) being how amazing it was to have this monster's dick buried so deep inside her!! Subject 76 had even forgotten about the audience that was watching this.

Maybe she even wanted the audience to watch?

If she was honest, perhaps she'd always wanted that...?

"M'gunna c-cum!! I gunna-"

Something mixed between a scream and a moan flew out of her mouth as the monster hilted itself fully into her ass, sparking an orgasm that shook her entire body to the core. A moment later, heat spread inside Subject 76. Thick and gooey, it ran down her thighs and joined the nectar of her own cum. The monster continued rocking its hips and unloaded spurt after spurt of sticky warmth that never seemed to end. Aftershocks accompanied every lazy, squelching thrust. More drool trickled down her chin, more moans were wrenched from her throat. 76 was less of a person now than she was a fuck sock; mindless and wet and perfectly submissive. The terrifying beast that called itself the "Scarecrow" had freed her from all the worry and pain she'd carried inside and replaced it with inner peace...

And obedience to the God of Fear.

Dr. Jonathan Crane sighed.

The "Kappa Psi" series toxin was a success. After countless days and sleepless nights and seventy six clinical trials on his unsuspecting patients, Dr. Crane had finally created something even he was afraid of. The K toxin was a potent combination that fused Doctor Isley's plant pheromones with carbogen and cortisol. When administered, it'd attack the pituitary gland first. Then, hurry itself onto the thalamus, amygdala and prefrontal cortex, where it'd flood the victim in mixed signals that twisted fear and pleasure together. With the right type of psychological stress applied, a subject under the effects of K Toxin would be highly susceptible to subliminal messages. Dr. Crane had found on the third clinical trial that sometimes a complete and utter dissociation would occur where the subject was...altered after the toxin wore off. Around the fifth clinical trial, Crane discovered that he didn't need to do much to invoke that dissociative state within his subjects. He started feeling like a God who crafted his own men and women alike from the soil of fear.

But, after seventy-five trials, each one a success, he'd started feeling unsatisfied. Bored, even. And now, on the seventy-sixth trial, Doctor Jonathan Crane was ready to concoct a new formula. This time, perhaps, he would experiment with a toxin that'd stimulate a timed, cardiac arrest? It'd be a great way to study Thanatophobia.

"I-I obey...I obey fear..."

Interrupting his musings, Subject 76 muttered to herself on his couch where she'd been since he'd dosed her. Crane rolled his eyes. It'd been half an hour (already) and without so much as a touch or a whisper in her ear, the young woman had come undone. He adjusted his glasses, then peered up at the clock hanging upon his wall. He'd give 76 a grace period of ten more minutes before he used an antidote. After all, she seemed to be enjoying herself even if he wasn't. Her fingers ground into her groin while she chanted hymns to horror with tears rolling from her glazed over eyes. Normally, Dr. Crane would be enchanted. The K Toxin made his job as a practitioner of fear too easy, though. The finesse involved in scaring someone seemed almost obsolete, comparatively. A ridiculous and foolish notion but one that bothered him greatly nonetheless.

While Crane waited for the K toxin to subside, he scrolled through his unread emails...

Dr. Leland was requesting any and all additional files on the Page Monroe case.

Jeremiah Arkham had CC'd the entire asylum on the rules and guidelines regarding the treatment of patients. It was obvious this message was just for Bolton, however.

Dr. Bartholomew was reminding everyone who'd used the staff refrigerator in the past 24 hours to label their food containers and lunches to "avoid any confusion."

Mike Browne, a senior orderly who worked in the Intensive Treatment Unit, was reporting theft. A concerning amount of Propofol had disappeared from the medical supply.

And a "Mister E" had messaged him at midnight (three whole days ago) with an email that was mysteriously entitled: "Question."

Just as Jonathan was about to open the mystery email, a timid voice interrupted him...

"D-Doctor Crane...?"

Subject 76 was (finally) shaking off the effects of the toxin and coming back to reality. The woman looked confused, a bit scared as well. And when he met her stare from his spot, perched at the desk, Crane saw terror blossoming inside those doe-like eyes. But, other than that little detail, 76 seemed to have recovered enough for Jonathan to talk to now. Turning away from his computer and clearing his throat, he began to weave a web of (plausible) deniability that reframed the past hour or so in a positive light...

"Don't alarm, Miss Bree. You seem to have fallen asleep during our guided breathing exercises. It's a common thing that happens with patients who hold onto too much stress. Rest assured, you're not the only one of my clients who've passed out on that couch...and I very much doubt that you'll be the last."

Subject 76 immediately reached up towards her mouth, wiping it clear of leftover drool. Then, the woman moved on to smooth her hair and fix any wrinkles that she saw in her sweater. As soon as 76 felt put together, the woman risked peeking a glimpse at the doctor. That beautiful fear which he loved so much still clung to the edges of her gaze.

"So, all that was just a nightmare?" she asked Dr. Crane with a voice that said she couldn't be more relieved, "All the things I saw...they weren't real?? Even you reporting me?"

Jonathan raised a single, curious brow. He made a show of taking off his glasses, wiping them on the material of a handkerchief that he kept in his pocket, and returning them to his face before he answered the question:

"You had a nightmare, Miss. Bree? Well, that isn't all too uncommon, either. Guided breathing and meditation has been known to jog loose trauma from within our subconscious mind. That's why its use is so effective in a therapeutic setting," Dr. Crane said, then gestured casually over towards the wall clock, "But, I am afraid that will have to be a conversation for later. Our time today is up."

"Oh..."

"Let's schedule you for the same time next week. And perhaps this time, we can focus on staying awake throughout our session, hm?"

Embarrassment in the form of a rosy pink blush spread across Subject 76's cheeks at that small, wayward comment. She tried to hide it, though. Jonathan ignored this and led her over to the door, holding it open for the woman after she'd collected her things. As his patient walked by him, however, Crane froze her with an innocent question from out of left field...

"Before you go, Miss. Bree, I've been admittedly quite curious about something. It's my hope you can indulge me with an answer. What will you be wearing to your close friend's wedding, exactly? I'm not familiar nor particularly educated on the social formalities involved in such an occasion's dress wear."

76 paused, then replied as if commenting on the weather: "Oh, probably nothing. I want everyone to see my whore body. Wouldn't you, Dr. Crane?"

"Mm," Jonathan hummed in response before he closed the door behind her.

It'd started to rain outside. A light dusting of tiny water droplets were collecting themselves upon the glass of the curtain window beside his desk. Jonathan Crane could hear the pattering getting (progressively) louder by the second. He strolled over to his office chair, then sat in it. Watched as the storm rolled in from Gotham Bay and the icy Atlantic sea beyond it. Idly, he wondered if he'd ever meet a subject who could hold his interest? Or if The Batman, alone, would continue to keep that honor for himself?

Swiveling around to face his computer, Jonathan decided to open that "Mister E" email. He clicked once upon the subject line and was assaulted by bright green text almost instantly. A deep frown tugged on his lips as he squinted, trying to read the words despite wearing a pair of prescription glasses...

'Like a rhubarb, what also desperately searches for light in the darkest depths?

I'll give you a hint: It doesn't crack or pop, but it can scream just as loudly in Arkham's basement.'

Underneath this was a picture of himself in a lab coat, administering a lethal dose of fear toxin to an Arkham patient who was strapped down to a surgical table. Another photo, in addition to this, was timestamped for a few minutes later, and it featured Jonathan wearing a badly stitched-up, burlap, respirator mask. The patient who was screaming in the bottom right corner appeared to be bleeding around the mouth and eyes. The final one was a zoomed in shot of his name tag while he was disguised in the mask: Dr. Jonathan Crane, MD.

He stilled.

Everything in the world went absolutely quiet. He could've heard a single pin drop. But the silence was quickly shattered by the sound of electronic beeping. Jonathan peered down at his waist belt to see that the Motorola pager he wore strapped to it was flashing him a message...

'9229.'

All the muscles in his jaw tensed.

Immediately, Jonathan turned off his computer and using a brass key (that he always kept close on his person), opened up the bottom drawer to recover a briefcase hidden underneath the cover of an internal partition. As soon as his fingertips brushed against the leather item, Nightmare let out three loud, ear-splitting caws from her iron cage. She spread her wings, then flapped them several times in apparent aggravation. The crow pierced Jonathan with a look that seemed to warn him of something that he couldn't logically discern. But, fear was not logical, he reasoned to himself...

...And the only thing there was to fear in Gotham City was the Scarecrow.

"Hold the fort down while I'm gone, Nightmare," he said to his bird, hoping that his request would help to ease her worries, "This'll only take a bit. It usually does."

Jonathan Crane strode out of his office with an incredible sense of urgency and ire. His old, leather briefcase was gripped tightly in his hands like a gun. Nobody blackmailed the Scarecrow...

Or lived long enough to tell about it.

#faerybladefics #faeryblade is done with dr. crane #jonathan crane #dr jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x y/n #the scarecrow #scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x you #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane fanfic #dc universe #dr. jonathan crane #please don't tell my psychiatrist he'd kill me!

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archivistofnerddom · 5 months ago

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The Batch + Life In Retirement On Pabu

Slightly AU: Tech lives, though he’s got a prosthetic leg as a result of his fall.

Hunter’s fashion sense swiftly nose-dives into that of every dad at an amusement park. Don’t ask why that happened so quickly. It just did. He’s rocking cargo shorts, corny shirts, and comfy shoes like they’re going out of style. (Crosshair gave him a tactical fanny pack as a joke. Hunter wears it all the time with all due seriousness.) It takes years for the rest of the Batch to get him to branch out from that.

Tech alternates between his space jeans and sweatpants, depending on his mood. The sweatpants were necessary when he first got his prosthetic leg during his post-Eriadu recovery process. He too starts wearing ironic shirts, but somehow makes them more fashionable than Hunter.

Crosshair has the widest selection of island-appropriate hats and sunglasses anyone has ever seen. No one knows how he gets so many, and he’s certainly not going to tell on himself. Omega is the reason why he has so many floral-print shirts though.

Wrecker discovers overalls and pretty much lives in them. No less than half of his overalls have the legs cut off at the knees. This is more practical than fashionable though. He’s just so big that he has a hard time finding pants that fit him at the waist and have a long enough pant leg.

Omega finally gets to decide on her preferred style now that they’re permanently in one place. She still wears a lot of hand-me-downs from her brothers though. Omega spends a lot of time helping out around the island, so she needs clothes that no one minds her getting dirty or ruined when she’s working on a project.

Echo has an extensive collection of sarongs he stores on Pabu that he only busts out when he’s visiting. Rex knows not to ask Echo to do anything if he sees him wearing one. (Visiting the family on Pabu is the only time Echo gets a break or a chance to relax and destress.)

Batcher gets a pretty collar and a massively cushy bed. Someone starts bringing her sweaters to wear when she gets cold. (Crosshair is the leading suspect. Hunter won’t confess to anything.)

Wrecker has an extremely extensive cookbook and recipe collection. He picks up cooking as a hobby post-retirement, and he is really good at it. Given the diversity of people and species on Pabu, Wrecker spends a lot of time learning different recipes from across the galaxy.

Crosshair and Wrecker go fishing together pretty regularly. They don’t say a lot during those times, but that’s okay. Crosshair enjoys spotting where the best fishing areas are. Wrecker just sits back and lets his baby brother take the lead on this. (He brings snacks and a cooler of drinks to keep them fed and hydrated when they decide to make a day of it.)

Tech upgrades the Archeum to improve how things are stored and protected. Omega helps out. They spend a lot of time adding details about the specific items housed therein, including any historical details, cultural relevance, and any notes about how best to handle the items. They’re working with Phee on an oral history component to the Archeum as well, so that the stories about the items in the Archeum and the residents of Pabu are preserved.

Crosshair makes hammocks and strings them up around the island in random places. He says it’s so that he can take a nap wherever and whenever. Really, it’s just his contribution to life on Pabu. (Plus, making hammocks were good physical therapy when he got his new prosthetic hand.)

Omega instituted regular family game night. (Echo is expected to be there as his work with Rex allows.) Depending on their moods, Batch family game night is either extremely chill or extremely cutthroat. There is no in-between.

Wrecker is the first one to “move out” of the shared family house. It’s only because he built an upgraded kitchen with a huge family room attached. The shared family home couldn’t accommodate those upgrades. His house is two houses down and is still where everyone eats dinner almost every night.

Tech moved out second. He moved in with Phee. It was a combination of their evolving romantic relationship and him wanting to be closer to the island repair shop that he runs in his spare time. (Tech became the island’s mechanic once he recovered from the injuries he sustained on Eriadu.)

Hunter develops a massive green thumb. The family shared house (which eventually is just him, Omega, and Crosshair full-time) is overflowing with plant life. He built and maintains a greenhouse for Wrecker to grow speciality plants for his cooking.

Echo usually crashes with Wrecker when he comes to visit. Wrecker renovated part of his house to be prosthetic leg friendly and got a really comfy recliner for Echo. Crosshair put in a hammock for Echo in the backyard.

Crosshair, Hunter, and Omega go on early morning runs together. It’s their bonding time.

Tech upgraded the whole family’s prosthetic limbs many times over the years. Hunter made a point of keeping the older models as a reminder of how far they’ve come since they retired.

Batcher is the most spoiled dog on the island. She adores the attention and winds up becoming the unofficial therapy dog for every new resident and refugee who finds their way to Pabu.

#random bad batch headcanons that popped into my head #post series headcanons #just the batch living life in retirement on Pabu #also - tech lives #bad batch headcanons #headcanons #the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb batcher #captain rex #phee genoa #tech x phee #star wars

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nessinborderland · 2 years ago

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V-E-N-U-S (01)

Pairing: Rafe x plus size!Reader

Genre: smut, dark-ish fic

Word Count: 6 ,7k

Warnings ⚠️ Mildly Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, more like Enemies to Enemies That Fuck tbh, Rafe Cameron Being an Asshole, mentions of bullying, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Rough Sex, Mentions of death of a parent, Drinking, Drug Use, Rafe needs therapy asap, fatphobia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: The nickname he had given you in 8th grade was supposed to be ironic. In Rafe’s defense, he used to be a pretty stupid and cruel fourteen-year-old, as most kids that age are. So yeah, nicknaming the fat and nerdy chick Venus – like the goddess of sex and beauty – had been pretty hilarious in young Rafe's opinion.

What he would've never guessed was how much that name would fit you now as a grown woman.

Notes: this is - hopefully - the first of more OBX fics written by yours truly. A joy to write really because Rafe/Drew are turning me into a mad woman and I desperately needed something to quench the thirst. So here, enjoy 💖

AO3 | Masterlist

Rafe was pretty sure he was about to do something he was going to regret. That, or go insane with desire. He could feel something sizzling in his chest the longer he stared at you, hyper-aware of the attention you were attracting. Attention that did not come from him and him alone.

"Wow," Kelce whistled beside him, pulling him out of his thoughts, "Venus looking thick as hell, man, look at that ass."

Rafe had been looking. Hard not to, when the red bikini you were wearing hugged your body like a second skin, showing off your curves in ways that made him wonder how nice it would feel to trace your soft-looking skin with his palms.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t the only one with his eyes on you.

He gulped and took another sip of his beer – jaw clenching as he tried to not let his temper get the best of him over Kelce’s words. He couldn’t blame the other guy for staring when you looked that good, but goddamit, did Rafe feel the urge to punch him and every other ogler that dared to eye-fuck you.

His eyes never left your figure as you danced by the pool with the confidence of a young woman that had outgrown her teenage insecurities, a faint smile on your lips as you swayed your hips to the beat of the Latino song playing.

It was the sexiest thing he had ever seen, and – if you had been anyone else – he wouldn't have hesitated to approach you and charm you into his bed.

But he knew it would never work. Not on you.

It was the worst-kept secret that you disliked Rafe Cameron. No, not dislike; you hated his guts; you couldn’t even stand the mere sight of him, a scowl twisting your features every time you were forced to interact with him at the country club where you waited tables. He couldn’t really blame you for that though; not after the things he had done and said to you in high school.

Even Rafe himself was aware of how much of a nasty teenager he used to be; especially to you.

You just so happened to be his favorite plaything. Why, he had no idea, but young Rafe lived for the moments where you would avoid him like the plague during recess, just so he could hunt you down to bully you in the meanest way he could think of.

You had a crush on someone, and he happened to find out? He made sure to personally break your heart. You tried to develop a friendship? There he was to break it even before it started. You dared to tell on him to a teacher? He would harass you at your own home and bombard your phone with nasty texts until you dropped it.

He was king and you were his favorite court jester.

Not that you didn't put up a fight.

More than once you had punched and screamed at him, tears in your eyes as you pinned him down under your fiery gaze. He loved it. In a way, he wondered if that was what made him sink his claws into you in the first place. You scratched that urge in him for confrontation, for a good fight.

He still remembered that altercation between you that had turned into a slapping contest in the hallways, everyone around you urging you on until a teacher came to stop it. He could still feel the sting in his cheek, remember the way your hard gaze never left his even when his palm met your skin. That was one of the reasons why he couldn't stop bullying you, even when that inevitably got him in trouble.

Rafe knew that he used to be your worst nightmare, and, at the time, he hadn’t cared how it make you feel. Looking back, he regretted it.

He really had no idea how he had once thought of you as ugly. If he was being honest with himself, had he ever? Or had he just been a horny teenager with no idea of what to do with his feelings toward the ostracized fat girl? He couldn’t be sure. To be fair, you had been awkward in high school, always dressed in baggy clothes and worn-out shoes, with your glasses at the tip of your nose, which was almost always stuck in the pages of some thick fantasy novel.

But now? The only thing he could say was that you had finally learned how to dress and flaunt every piece of your body in the best way possible.

You had the body of a fucking goddess, an hourglass figure he could get lost in, all curves and wide hips and tits that he could bet even his large hands weren’t big enough to contain. More than once he had imagined your thick thighs wrapped around his hips as he thrust into you, your soft body pressed against his.

Ironically enough, you reminded him of the artwork ‘Venus and Adonis’, which he had seen during a visit to the Met as a kid.

But it wasn’t just your body that made his dick twitch with desire.

Your eyes still had that fire from when you were kids, and your gaze could smolder him on the spot if he locked eyes with you for too long. Your lips alone were enough to make him fantasize about you on your knees with your mouth stuffed with his cock, moaning around him as he came down your throat.

Fuck, did he want you. He was getting hard just imagining all the ways he could bend you over and fuck you until you were an incoherent mess.

A hand on his shoulder followed by his name snapped him out of his thoughts, and he changed his focus to the petite redhead staring up at him with a coy smile on her face.

“Hey, Rafe.”

“Hey, Amber, what’s up?” he greeted distractingly before redirecting his gaze back to you.

His brow furrowed as he noticed a guy approach you and start to dance right behind you, a hand going on your hip as he said something in your ear. Rafe could almost hear his jaw unclench as he saw you shake your head and bat the dude’s hand away, successfully making him leave you alone after that.

“What?” he asked, focusing again on the redhead that had said something to him.

“Was wondering if you have some of the… you know…” she shrugged and leaned against him before whispering, “The white stuff.”

“Got money to pay for it?” he asked straight, taking another sip of his beer as his gaze involuntary moved back to you, still dancing by the pool and thankfully on your own.

“No,” said Amber, her hand tracing patterns on his chest, “but I’m sure we can get to some kind of agreement…”

Rafe scoffed, her double meaning clear to him. It was not the first time she offered him a fuck or a blowjob in exchange for some grams of coke, and it wouldn’t be the last. Hell, any other night and he wouldn’t have hesitated to lock himself with her in the nearest room and let her ride his dick until he came.

But not tonight. She was not who he wanted.

“Sorry, Amber, no money no coke. That shit’s expensive.”

“Oh, c’mon, Rafe–”

“Just fuck off, will you?” he snapped, shaking her hand off of him. “Not in the mood tonight.”

He heard her gasp and curse at him before storming out, but he couldn’t care less if he had offended her.

Right now, you were walking towards him.

He took another gulp of his beer as he tried to act nonchalant; the last thing he needed was for you to notice his constant stare.

But then it happened. Just as you passed by him, so close he could see the beauty marks on your neck, you looked up at him and your lips twitched before you calmy broke eye contact and walked inside the house.

Rafe took a deep breath as he considered following you. You were trying to drive him insane on purpose, it was the only explanation. Why, though? That was a question he was dying to know the answer to. It didn’t even make sense, given your history.

But things had been… off for a while now. He hadn’t even thought much about it until you had smiled at him during one of your shifts at the country club, gaze bearing into his as you refilled his glass. You never smiled at him. Never. And you had definitely never looked at him with anything other than annoyance and contempt in your eyes. That look you had sent him though (so similar to the look you sent him just now), whatever it meant – and he was sure it meant something – that shifted something in him.

After that, it was like he was seeing you everywhere.

He was at the country club; there you were, catching his eye as you served drinks and took orders. He was at the beach with his friends; oh, there you were hanging around your pogue cousin and his pogue friends. But seeing you at a party? A party thrown by kooks, of all people? That was when he started paying attention.

Fuck it, he whispered to himself before downing the rest of his beer.

His feet were dragging him inside the house before he could register the decision to follow you, and Rafe passed by the other partygoers as he looked around for you. He ended up finding you in the kitchen, leaning against the marble counter as you sipped on a glass of water and checked your phone.

He hesitated for a second by the threshold, unsure of what to say, but it didn’t last when you finally noticed him, brows raising as he approached you with a smirk.

You were going to fucking end him.

“V-E-N-U-S,” he spelled as a way of greeting, “long time no see.”

“R-A-F-E,” you imitated in a mocking tone, looking at him with a raised brow. “You know your friends are doing coke in the living room, right? Not here.”

Your expression – together with the mocking movement of you wiping your nose – wiped the smirk off his face, making him bite the inside of his cheek as he tried not to let his temper get the better of him. He wasn’t expecting a conversation with you to go smoothly, but he wasn’t expecting such clear animosity.

He let out a fake laugh and tilted his head to the side as he took a step further into your personal space, suddenly wanting to make you as uncomfortable as you were making him.

“Ha ha ha, aren’t you hilarious. Nah, I was just wondering what a pogue like you does at a party like this…” he said, bite clear in his tone. “Your cousin doesn’t let you hang out with him and his loser friends anymore, is that it?”

Rafe grinned at the glint of growing fury in your eyes.

Let it all out, baby.

“Not that is any of your business, but this pogue is a big girl,” you said with a fake smile, hands on your waist as you stared up at him. “I can go to whatever party I want and, also, I’m not always around John B.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, biting his bottom lip as he looked down at your tits, “you’re a big girl, all right.”

Your eyes grew wide at his words, and you scoffed before crossing your arms over your chest, only giving him a bigger eyeful of your breasts. Fuck, he had to get his mouth on those.

“Fat jokes, Rafe? Really?” you said, raising a brow as he sent you a sneer. “How pubescent of you. You really haven’t changed, huh? Just the same mean rich kid.”

“Oh, c’mon Venus, are you still upset over high school? We’re adults now, can’t we put that shit behind us?” He offered you his hand in a clear peace offering and you scoffed, looking down at it like it had personally offended you. “Look, I’m sorry okay, for everything. Can you forgive me?”

He actually meant it, as odd as it was; especially if he got something else out of it. Rafe would apologize a thousand times if it assured him he would get a taste of you.

“Hmm...” you patted your lower lip in pretend contemplation, and Rafe had to control himself not to replace your finger with his. “Let’s see… besides all the things you said and did to me when we were teenagers – which, I confess, I’m still not over – you have tried to hurt my cousin one too many times for me to even consider forgiving you so… how about – no.”

Rafe dropped his hand with a sigh and an eye roll.

“Really mature of you.”

“Oh yeah, ‘cause you’re one to talk,” you scoffed as you purposely bumped against his side as you walked past him in direction of the sink to refill your glass. “Leave me alone and stop being a fucking creep, I know you and your friends have been staring at my ass all night.”

Rafe didn’t mean for the next words to leave his lips.

“Then maybe stop fucking walking around like you want me to spank it.”

A few seconds went by where neither of you said a word, your back still turned to him as you refilled your glass. He heard as you turned the faucet off, another moment passing before you slowly turned to look at him over your shoulder.

“What did you say?”

“What, is that not what you want when you lean over right in front of me at the country club?”

You snorted before taking a sip of your water and spilling the rest in the sink, setting the now-empty glass on the counter before sending him a very familiar look of disdain.

“You’re honest to god disgusting.”

“Okay, listen…” He took a deep breath as he chose the right words, seeing his efforts to get on your good side going down the drain. “I know that you hate me given our history, but–”

“Whatever you’re gonna say – don’t,” you stated, pushing him aside as you left the kitchen.

Rafe watched with mouth agape, brows furrowing and hands closing to fists as you pushed him aside and left the kitchen.

“You know what? Fucking fine!” he snapped at your back as he controlled himself not to go after you. “Be a bitch about it If you want, why do I care!”

Fuck you for being such a stuck-up and disrespectful bitch. No piece of ass was worth the way you backtalked. Screw apologizing, and screw you. You should be thankful he even looked at you in any way that wasn’t revulsion.

With a frustrated slap against the countertop and a growing need to punch someone, Rafe left the kitchen after you, set on making you regret your attitude by the end of the night.

«»«»«»«»«»

“Hey, bro, you all right?” Topper asked from his seat next to Rafe.

“Yeah, why?” the blond answered as he took a drag of the cigarette in between his fingers.

The party was still ongoing, with people dancing and getting drunker by the hour, including Rafe. His temper had subsided somewhat after another beer and some lines of coke, but the cogs in his brain were still turning as he concocted a plan that would make you swallow your words (and something else, if he was lucky).

He still hadn’t been able to stop himself from staring at you, but drinking was helping him not give a shit about it. He could look at whatever and whomever he pleased, and it was no one’s business – including yours. If you didn’t like it, you were more than welcome to leave his vicinity.

Rafe knew you knew he was watching you. You glanced at him from time to time, never giving him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm under his gaze. That was making his temper rise but, more than that, was seeing you sitting by the pool with some guy chatting you up (with his hand dangerously close to your thigh, he couldn’t help but note with a tick of his jaw).

“Just noticed you’ve been… distracted all night.”

“And? That a problem?”

“Not at all…” Topper answered nonchalantly, pausing for a moment before adding, “Venus looks pretty hot, doesn’t she?”

That made Rafe break his intense stare on you to focus on Topper, the other blond raising his hands at the confrontation in his eyes.

“Wow, man, easy,” he chuckled. “Can’t blame you for staring at her all night.”

“I haven’t been staring at her all night.”

“Sure, you haven’t.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rafe asked, starting to get particularly annoyed by the tone in his friend’s voice. “Just say whatever you wanna say, Topper.”

“Chill, bro, just noticed you seem pretty interested in her, that’s all,” he explained with a nod in your direction. “You guys made amends or something?”

“Nah, she still hates my guts and she’s still a major bitch.”

“Well, can’t blame her…”

“You’re one to talk, Top. As far as I remember, you were there too.”

“Yeah, but I’ve actually apologized for it like ages ago. She has been pretty friendly lately, that’s why I asked. Plus,” Topper paused to take a sip of his drink, “she has been staring at you a lot too.”

Rafe had nothing to say to that, just grunting in acknowledgment as he finished his beer in one swift gulp before standing up and stretching his arms above his head, sighing as his joints popped.

“Gonna take a leak, be right back.”

This time, he didn’t go back to his friends. No, he wanted to look at you closer, make sure you knew he wasn’t one to be played with. You weren’t kids anymore, but he could still make your life hell if he felt like it. If you wanted to be a bitch, then he would be a bitch back.

And that’s why he sat right beside you by the pool, so close he noticed you flinching when he sat down and his hip bumped yours, his foot also lightly touching yours as he submerged his legs in the heated pool water. You gave him no reaction besides that, your tone of voice unchanged as you kept talking and laughing as if he wasn’t even there.

“I actually don’t have the game, but I love watching playthroughs on Youtube,” he heard you say in an enthusiastic tone. “Would love to play it someday though, I have the books and they’re pretty great.”

Rafe leaned back on his hand and watched you both, a new cigarette in between his lips, chuckling as he noticed the little shimmy you did as you tried to move as far away from him as you could without sitting on the other guy’s lap.

“No way you haven’t played them!” the dude exclaimed, leaning closer to you. “I have them all on PS5. You know what, why don’t you come by my house someday, we can play together.”

“I would–”

Rafe snorted, followed by a laugh as you stopped whatever you were going to say. He tried to just sit there and breathe down your neck. He really did. But he couldn’t stand listening to that fucking guy anymore.

“Of for fuck’s sake, dude, will you shut the fuck up with that nerdy shit?”

He watched as both you and your friend finally shut up, the easy smile on your face being replaced by a scowl as you turned to him, mouth open to no doubt tell him to go fuck himself.

“Rafe, c’mon man, what’s your problem?”

Ryan. Or was it Brian? Rafe didn’t care what the dude’s name was, but he was pretty close to just giving it a go and trying to drown the guy for even daring to talk back at him. His dad was some distinguished surgeon or some shit, so Rafe knew that if he got into a fight with him consequences would inevitably come in the form of Ward, but honestly? He couldn’t care less right now.

“Me?” he asked in mock surprise, pointing at himself with a scoff before throwing his arm over your shoulders and pulling you against his side. “Oh, I got no problem. But I would really appreciate it if you would just fuck off so I could talk with my girl here. You know, I’m afraid you wouldn’t be able to fuck her right anyway. She’s, well, she’s not a small girl and I don’t see a lot of muscle on you so–”

Your elbow hitting his side was enough for him to let you go with a huff. Rafe just stared as you stood up in a hurry, the eyes of the people that had noticed the altercation following you as you stormed off.

He watched you go, content with himself, eyes darkening as he focused on the other guy again.

“Lucky for you,” he started, threat clear in his voice as he stood up, “I got more important shit to do right now.”

With that, he stormed off after you.

He found you by the front lawn, where you now stood in a pair of shorts and a fine jacket, your phone in hand as you no doubt called someone to come get you. Rafe didn’t even hesitate before snatching the phone from your hand, putting it against his own ear as the familiar voice of John B called your name.

“Yeah, sorry, she’s busy right now,” he said, not waiting to hear the response as he disconnected the call.

“Hey, are you fucking insane?” you exclaimed as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“Nah, just drunk,” Rafe laughed as he held the phone above his head and out of your reach, watching you jump and press yourself against him in your sad attempts at getting the device back.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you said with a swat at his chest before taking a step back and extending him your hand. “Give me back my phone, you asshole!”

“What’s in it for me?” he dared with a smirk.

“Not getting kicked in the dick, for starters,” you replied, still demanding your phone. “Also, can you tell me why the fuck did you act like a complete idiot back there? First, you insult me, then you keep staring at me like some perv, and now you just tried to… what, exactly? Embarrass me in front of everyone by causing a scene?”

“You should thank me, that dude had bad intentions.”

“Oh yeah, ‘cause your intentions towards me are so pure.”

He paused.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not some naïve little girl, Rafe. What, think I wouldn’t know why you’ve been staring at me like I’m the last cookie in the jar?”

“Okay, listen, whatever you think you saw–”

“What, embarrassed to admit you wanna fuck the fat girl?”

“Be careful, Venus,” he warned, eyes slanting as he took a step towards you. “Sometimes words backfire.”

“Oh, so you don’t want to fuck me?”

“I don’t know. Do you want me to?”

You did nothing but stare into each other’s eyes for what to Rafe felt like an eternity. He could see the fire in your gaze, feel the desire burning inside him as his dick hardened under his shorts at the sight of your chest right in his face and your lips so close to his. All he had to do was to grab you by the back of your neck and press his lips against yours. Just a simple move and he would know what your lips tasted like.

“You wouldn’t be able to handle me even if I let you,” you broke the spell, fingers touching his chest as you pushed him away, challenge in your eyes.

A moment passed. Then Rafe smirked.

“Bet.”

You shrieked as he picked you up and over his shoulder, and he huffed out a laugh as you screamed his name and thrashed against his hold. Sure, you were heavier than any other girl he had done this to, but you were nothing he couldn’t handle. With a slap to your ass and a hand on your shorts to stabilize you, he returned inside the house like a man who had just hunted down the big prize.

He ignored your screams of his name and your fists against his back, barely noticing everyone’s eyes on him as he took the stairs one by one.

He opened an unlocked door, commanding the half-naked couple in there to leave before throwing you on the bed without ceremony.

“Oh, I’m gonna make you regret this!” you shouted as he locked the door. “You can bet I’m gonna spit on every single one of your drinks from now–”

He shut you up by cradling your face and pulling you up into a deep kiss, tongue swiftly passing by your parted lips as you weakly tried to push him off. A bite on his tongue made him grunt and pull away, only to see you staring at him with wide eyes and a heaving chest, a small stain of his blood on your lips.

“I couldn’t care less if you spit in my drinks,” he said as his thumb grazed your lip to collect his blood before pushing it in against your tongue. “Now be a good girl and suck on it.”

He couldn’t say he was surprised when you bit him instead, pushing him away as you crawled further to the other side of the bed, a look of unease and want mixing in your heated gaze.

That look was enough for him to decide how this night was going to go.

“Touch me again and I’ll bite your dick off.”

“Do you imagine my dick in your mouth that often?”

“Ugh, you’re such a pig!”

Rafe took off his shirt in one swift move, throwing it somewhere in the room before getting on his hands and knees on the mattress, eyes never leaving yours as he crawled closer.

“I can be worse if you let me.”

“Rafe–”

“What?” he asked as he successfully trapped you under his frame, lips brushing against your neck as he whispered in your ear. “Is the big bad girl scared?”

One of his hands found its way to one of your tits, palming the soft mound over your bikini. His dick jolted as you let out a soft moan, and he laughed at how well everything was going. He never thought of you as the kind of girl that would just lay there while he, Rafe Cameron of all people, touched you like this. If he knew this, he would’ve had his way with you years ago.

Years ago. He almost wanted to hit himself from how stupid younger Rafe had been.

He took your mouth in his, smiling into the kiss as you kissed him back, hands on his shoulders pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. Rafe took that opportunity to get himself comfortable in between your thighs, moaning as his erection grazed against your core.

He had to get you naked.

“No, Rafe, we can’t… we should stop,” you mumbled against his lips.

But the blond didn’t stop kissing you, going from your lips to sucking at the skin of your neck as his hand wandered past the waistline of your shorts. You smelled so fucking good, and your skin was so damn soft he wanted nothing more than press himself against you as he fucked you hard and deep.

“Give me a good reason to,” he drawled in your ear as his fingers found your hot core.

You gasped as he pressed against you, and he couldn’t help but notice how your nails gripped his shoulders and your back arched at his ministrations. He rolled his hips against yours, smiling at your sudden lack of words. You wanted this as much as he did, no point in hiding that from him now. Not when he could feel how wet you were under the fabric of your bikini, not when your thighs shook, and your chest heaved like you couldn’t wait to have him inside you.

In one swift move, he sat back with his legs folded under him, pulling you with him in the process. You gasped as he sat you in his lap, legs on either side of his hips.

Whatever you were about to say got lost when he kissed you with the ferocity of a man that wasn’t about to let anything stop him from getting what he wanted. Even if that someone was you. He was going to fuck you tonight; of that he was sure.

“Be a good girl for me and relax,” he said as he slid the straps of your bikini down your shoulders, finally exposing your breasts.

Rafe nearly groaned as he finally got sight of them, big and soft and warm under his palm. He wasted no time in popping a nipple into his mouth, moaning as the bud hardened under his tongue. You yelped and put your arms around his head, caging him against your chest as you arched it against his face.

Good, he thought with a nib to your flesh, I could suck on these for days.

The hand that wasn’t busy kneading your other breast curled around your waist, keeping you close to his body as you swayed in his hold, your soft moans filling his ears.

“Do you have any idea of what you’ve been doing to me?” he asked as he grazed his lips and tongue over both of your tits, hands going down your body to palm your ass over your shorts. “You’ve been driving me fucking insane...”

You didn’t bother acknowledging his words besides a soft hum. He glanced up at you, biting his lip at the sight of your heavy-lidded eyes and parted lips. Everything in you was screaming at him to take you, fuck you so hard everyone in this house would hear you scream his name, pump you so full of his cum that you would have to leave this room with it dripping down your thighs like the whore you were. His whore.

After tonight, you belonged to Rafe Cameron, whether you wanted it or not.

You yelped in surprise as he pushed you back on the mattress, staring at him like you had just woken up from a dream. Rafe admired your tits bounce for a moment before focusing on unzipping your shorts, pulling them down your legs with no hesitation before hooking his fingers on the elastic of your bottoms and giving it the same treatment.

He licked his lips at the sight of your pussy waiting for him in between your plush thighs, gaze darkening as he noticed how you were already glistening with arousal. His gaze went up and down your naked body several times, drinking in your curves and rolls, beyond turned on by the vision that was you naked and blushing under him.

“Soaking wet for me, aren’t you?”

He touched your clit then, smirking at the gasp you let out as his fingers went up and down your slit before pushing two digits inside. He groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him. You were so wet he had no doubt he would be able to sink fully into you in one swift thrust.

With that in mind, he pushed away to get himself undressed, sighing in relief as his hard cock broke free from the confinements of his underwear. He was quick on going back to his place on top of you, spreading your legs open as he lined up with your core.

He was pressed against you – the tip of his cock wet with your arousal and lips on the curve of your neck as he readied himself to take you – when you slapped his shoulder hard enough to break him out of his lusty state.

“What?” he asked, starting to get annoyed by your constant interruption. “You’re regretting it now?”

“No,” you said before surprising him by pushing him onto the mattress and straddling his hips. “I just like to be on top.”

When you sank down onto him, your velvety walls squeezing his dick, he could swear he saw stars. Rafe gripped your hips as you started bouncing up and down his length, eyes locked on yours as he forced you down on him in sync with your movements.

“How many times have you touched yourself while thinking of me?” he asked, smirking at the look you sent him.

“I could ask you the same–”

You moaned as he slapped your ass, his fingers digging into your flesh only making you clench tighter around him. He was living the dream, buried deep inside you as your tits bounced in his face, your fucked up expression making something akin to male pride swell in his chest. You were enjoying having his dick inside you as much as he was.

His hands roamed your body as you fucked him, head thrown back in continuous moans and body shivering in pleasure as he started rubbing circles on your clit.

“Oh my god, don’t stop,” you moaned as you leaned over to support yourself on his chest.

Your moans and whimpers were like music to his ears, and he quickly realized he wouldn’t get tired of fucking you so soon; not when you looked and sounded like that while dripping down his cock.

He wanted more.

In one swift movement, he turned your body around, pushing you back on the mattress before grabbing your legs by the back of your knees and folding you in half. This was how he wanted you; on your back with your legs spread and ready to get fucked senseless.

“Oh fuck!” you moaned with a high-pitched scream as he sank back into you, filling you up to the brim.

The sound of his hips hitting the back of your thighs filled the room, mixing with your moans and whimpers as he fucked you at a ruthless pace, forcing your body up the mattress with every hard thrust. Your eyes were closed, and your head was thrown back, giving him full access to your neck as he lapped and nibbed all over your pulse and collarbone, enjoying your scent mixed with his.

“You take my dick so well,” he whispered in your ear, his words followed by a deep thrust that made you yelp his name. “Yeah, just like that, scream my name. Let everyone know who’s fucking you this good.”

He could feel your pussy clench around him like a vice at his words, sucking him in like you didn’t want to let him go.

“R-Rafe, don’t stop please, I’m so close.”

He obeyed your request, dying to see you unravel beneath him. Rafe didn’t stop fucking you even as you came, your legs shaking and pussy fluttering around him as you let out a muffled sob. It was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He wanted to make you come like that again.

You moaned when he pulled out, eyes opening to glance at him with a question on your lips before he surprised you by twisting your hips to the side.

“Get on all fours,” he ordered. “Ass up.”

“You’re way too bossy for your own good,” you mumbled, abiding by his order all the same.

He chuckled at your words with a loud slap to your ass, grabbing his glistening erection before pushing again inside your dripping folds. You both moaned in unison as he entered you, hands keeping your hips in place as he settled on a rhythm.

Fucking you in this position – ass jiggling as he filled you up and hand gripping your hair, completely at his mercy – made him almost slap himself from how stupid he had been in the past. He wasted all this time looking down on you only to now wish he had been fucking you from day one.

“I should’ve fucked you back in high school,” he growled in your ear as he pressed his chest to your back.

“Like I would’ve let you.”

“You’re letting me fuck you now, aren’t you? On all fours, taking my dick like the good little slut that you are.”

“Oh, shut up asshole. Just come already.”

Rafe chuckled at that, grabbing your chin and turning your face to him before giving you a rough kiss, teeth clashing and pulling at your lip before he promised you, “Keep talking like that and I might just put that smart mouth to good use.”

You laughed then, a moan quickly wiping the smirk off your face as Rafe started touching your clit again, fingers expertly touching you just as he figured out you liked it.

“Come around my cock one more time, baby,” he purred as he sped up his thrusts, his movements shallower as he felt himself near the edge. “Come around me before I stuff you full of my cum.”

“Come inside me and you’re dead.”

Rafe laughed, not at all threatened by your words. Nothing was stopping him from coming inside you, consequences be dammed. You would leave this room with something to remember him by.

He came undone as you orgasmed a second time, firmly holding you by the hips as he came inside you as deep as he could, set on riding both your orgasms for as long as he could.

You both lay on the bed when he was done, a mess of tangled and sweaty limbs as Rafe refused to pull out and drag himself away from you.

“Can you get off of me?” you mumbled after a moment of nothing but panting.

Rafe took a deep breath, not saying anything as he savored your body pressed comfortably against his, soft skin warm and damp like his own. He wanted to prolong the moment, knowing damn well that you would go back to despise him as soon as he pulled out of you. He didn’t want to admit it, but he would rather not go back to how things were, no matter how entertaining the beef you had going on was.

“Rafe…”

He sighed and pulled out without a word, sitting back against the headboard as he watched you stand up and start looking around for your clothes, giving him a nice view of your ass as you leaned over to grab your discarded bikini and shorts.

That familiar tension sat between you in the heavy air as you got dressed without any words shared between you. In the meanwhile, Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off of you, waiting for your next move.

No way he would let you leave as if nothing had happened.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asked after he was fully dressed, watching as you texted someone on your phone.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because this was not supposed to happen,” you said with a shrug. “And it’s definitely not happening again.”

He held your gaze for a moment, taking a step in your direction as you made a move to leave.

“Oh yeah?” he said as he tilted your chin up. “Says who?”

“I do,” you said, batting his hand away before walking past him and opening the door. “Goodbye, Rafe.”

Rafe wasn’t an inflexible man; if you wanted to leave, he would let you. But if there was something he was, was stubborn. For tonight he would leave you be, but he couldn’t promise that tomorrow – or every day after that – would be met with the same leniency.

You would be his, and that wasn’t up for discussion.

«»«»«»«»

Part 2 ->

#outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron smut

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she-karev · 10 days ago

Text

Breakdown (Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev’s Sister PTSD Imagine)

Previous Chapter Here

Age Rating: 18+

Chapters: Two of Two

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev (Alex Karev’s Sister)

Canon Episode: Season 17 Episode 10

TRIGGER WARNING: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Panic Attack, Flashback, Depression

Mental Health Resources: https://www.ptsd.va.gov/, https://adaa.org/understanding-anxiety/posttraumatic-stress-disorder-ptsd/resources, https://www.nami.org/, https://www.aacap.org/, https://www.dbsalliance.org/, https://afsp.org/

AN: I do NOT enjoy hurting my characters, let me make that clear and I certainly don’t enjoy hurting my head canon ships but I write not just for entertainment but to also send a message. Realistically someone with Amber’s traumatic childhood, relationship problems, and anxiety can crumble one day when it becomes too much to bear. I wanted to show that even the strongest person can ask for help when they feel it’s too much to overcome alone. Like and reblog below and let me know what you think.

Summary: Amber Karev reaches a breaking point and confides in Andrew her dark thoughts. When he fails to get her to seek help he encourages her to talk to someone about her problems. She confides in her friend Jackson Avery her struggles who helps her see that there is no shame in admitting you need help. That night she and Andrew have a heartbreaking goodbye when she leaves to stay at her brother, Alex’s, while she takes time off work to go to therapy.

Words: 5852

May 18th, 2020

Amber quickly walks inside the pit where she sees Paul Wilkins lying in bed sleeping. She sees him alone with no nurse or resident on sight and decides to see what’s going on. She keeps a respectable distance from the large man before speaking to him.

“Mr. Wilkins?” The man wakes up and sits up looking at the young resident, “Hi I don’t know if you remember me I-”

“Your one of my doctors ain’t you?” Paul asks causing Amber to nod.

“Yes I’m Dr. Karev. Did a nurse follow up with you? Was there a resident to tell you what your results showed what caused the pain?”

“Nope, I’ve been here by myself about half an hour, nobody told me anything.”

Amber nods apologetically, “I’m sorry about that our staff is scrambled all over trying to keep things steady but that is no excuse.”

“Nah it’s fine doc.” Paul dismisses nonchalantly, “It ain’t like you don’t got an excuse. And I’m just a youngish man who gets takeout deliveries cause there isn’t anything else to pass the time. Did you get my results back?”

“We did.” Amber goes over the labs on her tablet, “Your labs show that your anemic, that means your iron deficient and it’s what caused your nausea. The good news is that this is very treatable with oral iron supplements, the bad news is your gonna have to say goodbye to greasy takeout food and opt for a homemade salad instead.”

Paul chuckles, “My wife is gonna be happy to hear that. Her job is on pause, and she took up making a rooftop vegetable garden. Answer me this, have you ever tried radish from a dirty pot on a rooftop?”

Amber grins amused, “No I have not.”

“We’ll you can thank the lord for that blessing.” Amber chuckles before writing down on her tablet.

“So, the nausea is under control, and you should make a full recovery and be discharged soon. We’ll give you a rapid test and if your positive your gonna have to quarantine in a private room for the next two weeks and call us if your symptoms worsen. I’m gonna send your pharmacy a prescription for oral Phenergan for the nausea and oral iron supplements to get your iron levels under control. Is there anyone you can call to pick you up and drive you home?”

“Yeah, my wife she’s home with our girls but uh…” Amber raises an eyebrow at that pause, “I don’t know how to zoom her. My girls help me and I don’t know how.”

Amber grins at that before opening the facetime app on her tablet and handing it to Paul, “You just put down your wife’s number in and if she answers she should pop up.”

Paul does as told and waits while the tablet rings before his wife answers and her face pops up at the other end, “Hi baby.”

“Paul!” His wife exclaims worried, “Oh my god I was so worried about you, are you okay?”

“I’m fine I just need to eat less burgers that’s all. My doctor here can explain, say hi to doc.” Paul turns the tablet to face Amber who waves at his wife.

“Hi Mrs. Wilkins, I’m Dr. Karev, I’m your husbands’ doctor. So, your husband is anemic, that’s what caused the nausea and pain. Now this is very treatable with oral iron supplements and a more rigid diet moving forward, do you think you can help make sure he follows?”

“Oh, I will even if I have to shove lettuce down his throat.”

Paul chuckles, “Yep that’s Janice for you, never takes no for an answer.”

“Daddy!” Amber sees two little girls grabbing the phone and facing the resident who blanches at the sight of her patient’s kids. Kid’s that she almost left without a father if Jackson hadn’t corrected her error to the nurse.

Paul doesn’t notice her skin paling under her PPE and instead faces the tablet with renewed energy, “Hey babies! Don’t worry, daddy’s coming home soon thanks to this nice doctor lady. Say thank you to the doctor.”

Paul turns the tablet with Amber facing the two adorable little girls who smile widely at her making her heart sting, “Thank you doctor!”

Amber swallows the lump in her throat before smiling at the children behind her mask, “Your very welcome.” Paul turns the tablet to face him and Amber clears her throat before speking calmly, “Um I just sent your prescription in, it should be ready tonight. A nurse will discharge you, I have to be somewhere, if you have any questions have a nurse page me.”

Paul nods to Amber’s relief as she walks away from the pit. She doesn’t know where she is going but she can’t be in the pit face to face with a patient she almost harmed. The N95 mask she is wearing feels like a stove in her face, and she registers her breathing is becoming increasingly erratic.

Amber feels relief when she sees an empty family room that she quickly enters and shuts the door behind her. The comfortable couch and armchair are barely registered in her brain that feels like it’s spinning inside her skull. The panicking resident rips her face shield off her face along with her N95. But the air in her hot face is not enough for her to breathe in through her nose or her mouth that is hyperventilating. She leans forward against a wall, pressing her forehead against her clasping fists trying to control her breathing.

“Calm down, Karev, calm down.” Amber recites to herself but her voice does little to make herself relax. Her chest feels like it’s being squeezed inside and once again her feet feel like their planted on the ground.

The overlapping sounds from nurses and doctors outside the room are becoming muffled like they’re slowly moving a thousand miles away. Instead of the usual hospital chatter and equipment being moved all her hears is a ringing in her ear that she registers as her breathing gets shorter isn’t a ringing at all, it’s a flatline tone.

April 1st 2020

Amber looks down at her patient Ian Talbert who is lying in bed waiting for the release of death that comes to men his age who contract covid. The young resident has never felt so helpless, so insignificant, less like a doctor and more as a witness of death.

The 64-year-old actuary just offered the depressed resident a parting gift, his deceased daughters army dog tags. At first, she refused out of respect but reluctantly took them at Ian’s insistence that there was no one else to take them from him. Hearing Ian say there was nobody in his life to keep him company in his last moments makes the youngest Karev take action even if it kills her emotionally. She holds his hand with the dog tags and sits down in the chair next to him.

“I’m here. I am not going anywhere.” Amber promises holding his hand as he tears up from her kindness.

“I don’t blame you.” Ian states to a guilty Amber who closes her tearful eyes and looks down in shame, “I’m gonna see my daughter. Do you believe that?”

Amber sniffles and looks back up at her friend with tears in her eyes still holding his weakening hand.

“I didn’t give it much thought until this happened.” Amber admits, “But yeah, I want to believe there’s something good for you after all this pain. I really want to believe it.”

Ian’s breathing gets shallower, and he lays in bed looking up at the ceiling waiting for the release of death. Amber is still by his side holding his hand making sure he is not alone, it’s the only thing she can do at a time like this.

“Everything I have…is yours.” Ian proclaims.

A few moments pass before Ian stops breathing and lays still in bed with his eyes wide open. Amber looks and sees the monitors flatline without the sound. She looks back at Ian and let’s go of his limping hand to close his eyes. Her lip quivers as her eyes fill with tears before she sobs by the bed, saddened by what the world has come to and how many good people it’s lost in the process.

Present

“Amber!” The familiar sound of Andrew causes her to gasp and open her eyes. No longer is she leaning against her fists, instead she is sitting on the floor with her back against the wall. She registers that her knees are drawn up to her chest and her hair is stinging in pain.

Amber realizes she was pulling her own hair and possibly rocking back and forth like a child while lost in the flashback. She also looks at her boyfriend in front of her who looks frightened out of his mind no doubt she looked like she was losing it, and the thought fills her with shame.

Amber swallows the lump in her throat before asking, “What happened?”

“You went white, you were pulling your hair, and you were hyperventilating.” His voice is strained as if seeing her in that state broke his heart, “And when I touched you, you screamed.”

“I…what?” Amber feels her throat sore and realizes he is right as she speaks raspy, “Damn it…who heard?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Andrew dismisses needing to focus on the main issue, “Amber I have tried to be patient and back off like you wanted because every time I even ask you if you’re okay you lash out, but I can’t stand idly by not anymore. You need to see a therapist, right now as soon as possible.”

Amber shakes her head on autopilot, “No I’m f-

“You’re not fine.” Andrew insists sternly, “You had a full-on flashback, you weren’t here you were somewhere else, and I know it wasn’t the first time today. The nurses said they saw you stare off into space at the pit. That is not a symptom of a person who is fine you and I both know that.”

“Andrew, I don’t want to talk about this!” Amber exclaims in frustration before standing up and keeping a distance between them, “What part of that don’t you understand? I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to talk to some stranger about my fucked-up life, I don’t want to be another crazy person in my family like my mom!”

Andrew closes his eyes at that realizing this goes deeper than burnout as Amber keeps denying what is wrong, “I am trying to move on and rise on my own time in my own way. And yeah, maybe I missed some sleep, and my mind takes me to the worst moments of my life but guess what, not all of us can get stabbed and walk away five minutes later like nothing happened. We’re all not that lucky!”

Andrew widens his eyes at that low blow his girlfriend achieved. He would feel angry five months ago except back then he didn’t lash out at the woman he loves when he was having a mental breakdown. It was this moment he realized how hopeless Amber felt then and that knowledge makes his guilt grow even more and makes him more determined to persist like she did and help her like she tried to help him.

“…I’m not lucky Amber.” Andrew starts calmly, “A lucky person wouldn’t get stabbed, a lucky person wouldn’t drive the love of his life away, a lucky person wouldn't inherit his estranged father’s mental illness. I am far from the luckiest guy alive, and I was traumatized after what happened. I spent the first two weeks after my surgery waking up from nightmares and looked over my shoulder afraid someone was gonna come and finish the job. I was a freaking mess and the reason you don’t know this was because I didn’t want to burden you so soon after you miraculously decided to give us another chance.”

Amber stands there frozen with a remorseful face as Andrew continues with a strained voice, “I didn’t want to trigger you again and lose you again because I love you. And the reason I was so perfect in your book was because I had myself invested in my mental health by then. I take my meds; I go to therapy, and it helps me process what happened to me and move forward. I am trying to help you do the same because…because I can’t watch you ignore what is wrong like I did with my father I can’t. Just talk to me please. Just tell me what’s going on. I’m here for you okay? I want to help.”

Amber sniffles at this confession. A part of her wants to tell him…but a nagging feeling in her brain is reminding her of every fight they had when he was manic. It is playing the time he told her she would end up like her abusive father. It is playing the time he compared her to her neglectful mother. It played the weeks he ghosted her after his public breakdown. All of these horrible memories make her feel like she’s swimming in a blackhole before she coldly responds.

“You can’t help Andrew.” Amber replies numbly, “Nobody can help because you can’t fix me any better than when I tried to fix you. You hurt me and you lashed out at me and nothing I did got through to you so why do you think now would be any different?”

“Amber I’m trying to help.” Andrew pleads but it falls on deaf ears.

“You want to help me?” Andrew sees the hurt in her eyes as her voice is low and shaky, “Make the pandemic go away, make it so my mom actually got better when I needed her, make it so my brother didn’t inherit this illness. Make it so everyone I love in my life didn’t go crazy and hurt me in every way possible. Can you do that?!”

Andrew frowns at this inquiry that makes him silent with melancholy, “Yeah that’s what I thought. You can’t make this better because nothing ever gets better. Not the world, not the hospital, not our patients, not me. Everything is falling apart, and everyone is dying, and nobody knows how to fix it.”

Andrew stands there silent for a moment as he processes her depressing statement that is plaguing everyone. But he sees this isn’t just burnout or even depression, this is Amber falling apart after so many years of bottling up her pain. He knows he alone can’t help her…but he knows she needs someone to turn to even if it’s not him and wants to encourage her to do so.

He nods with a hard line on his face, “Your right I can’t fix the world and everything that is wrong with your life…but that doesn’t mean you have to let this helplessness and hopelessness take hold of you and never let go. I almost let it and if it wasn’t for Carina, Bailey and Webber I would be in the same place you are right now. Unwilling to help myself because the truth is too scary to face. I was lucky to have people that didn’t give up on me. And you have that too even if this thing your feeling can’t let you see it.”

Amber looks at Andrew with tear glistened eyes, “If you don’t want to talk to me that’s fine, I know after everything I put you through, I am the last person you feel safe to be vulnerable with. But please talk to someone else, someone you feel safe with, like Alex or Jackson who were there for you when I wasn’t. Talk to them before it eats you alive.”

Amber stands there for a moment looking broken beyond repair at this insistence. Even when she tries to push him away he is still trying to help her at her lowest. This gesture would melt her heart…except now her heart feels like it’s not working. It feels like everything inside of her is dying, it feels like all of the pain and misery has made her feel everything and nothing. Unable to bear him seeing this, Amber quickly leaves the room.

She walks toward the pit looking to work to escape this feeling, to escape all that is wrong. Except something stops her dead in her tracks just as she enters the mostly empty ER. Paul Wilkins is still in bed, except this time his wife is by his side. They are both talking and keeping their distance but the love between them is clear to the resident.

It’s clear to her that this scene in front of her wouldn’t be happening. It’s clear to her that Paul could be dead because his doctor prescribed him medication, she forgot he was allergic to because she was tired and stressed.

It’s clear that if her friend hadn’t been checking on her and correcting her little mistakes that almost culminated in a massive one, she would be fired or worse. It’s clear to her that Andrew was right about her needing to talk to someone before she lets this despair, she’s experiencing kill one of her patients. It’s clear she needs to talk to someone before it’s too late.

Later

Jackson looks out the window of the attendings lounge lost in thought as the pitter patter of rain falls from the dark sky. It seems like fitting weather for the day he’s had. First, he tried to talk to Amber about her obvious mental decline and then he had to work with a mother and daughter suffering from covid who both had to be put on a vent when ventilators were in shortage now.

Luckily his and Maggie’s quick thinking were able to convert one vent into a double tubing that can be used for both of them at the same time. It is a solution that can help trauma patients and covid patients use desperately needed vents without fear of a shortage.

However, his sorrow is still present as he has one problem remaining with his best friend who left to work despite what transpired with Paul Wilkins. It’s a problem that has him seriously contemplating on reporting her to Bailey and forcing her to get help or get fired. This decision is stalled by the door being burst open and slammed shut. Jackson turns to find Amber entering the room looking more disheveled than when she left him.

Amber is gripping the table chair by the top looking down at her feet with a struggle on her face that worries Jackson. It’s a look he’s never seen on her, it’s a look of distress that has never been shown in this confident and collected resident, until today. Jackson moves to face Amber across the table sitting down in the chair six feet away from her. He keeps a neutral face that he hopes allows her to feel safe enough to finally admit she needs help.

Amber sniffles and looks up to face Jackson with tear glistened eyes before speaking in a small voice, “Ask me again.”

Jackson furrows his eyebrows confused that Amber catches causing her to elaborate, “Ask me what I saw…when I was blacking out before I prescribed Mr. Wilkins the Zofran. Ask me what caused me to forget vital patient information.”

“…What did you see before you prescribed Mr. Wilkins the Zofran?”

Amber swallows and takes a moment before responding in a raspy voice, “A nurse was playing a song, Complicated by Avril Lavigne. It triggered me I think and my mind took me somewhere else, somewhere that felt like I was living a memory all over again. I was nine years old; I was listening to that song and then…and then my mom came bursting in off her meds again. She thought there was an intruder, and she was threatening to kill them. I instantly knew she was gonna attack me because it was just me there but the damn schizophrenia would make her see a monster instead of her own daughter. Her illness would kill me, and she wouldn’t even know it until after.”

Jackson looks at her in sympathy while she continues with tears streaming down her eyes sniffling, “I grabbed the phone and hid in the closet like Alex and Aaron told me to do when mom has an episode. I hid in the closet and called Aaron, he heard mom screaming so he said he would be there as fast as he could and to keep quiet and keep hiding so I did…I hid in that closet for half an hour, listening to my mom’s screams and rants that got worse when she started throwing stuff around. I didn’t move, I didn’t make a peep because I was afraid if I so much as breathed out loud Helen would know, and I would be at her mercy without my brothers there to protect me. So I stayed still, I stayed quiet and ever since that day when I hear that song…I am reminded of that awful moment in that closet. But today was the first time I ever had a flashback like that, and do you want to know what the worst part of it is?” Jackson shakes his head listening attentively as his friend shares her struggles with him, “These past few months I felt like that scared little girl in the closet again.”

Amber gasps a breath before grabbing a napkin from the kitchenette to wipe her eyes before explaining to Jackson facing the sink instead of him, “Growing up in that house, in my family…I felt helpless and weak. I put on this tough front like I can handle anything, but it was just that, a front. I didn’t want anyone to see that I was scared, scared of my mom and her crazy and then again with Aaron. You spend a part of your childhood in and out of foster care you learn to close off a part of yourself to survive. I have done that all of my life; I fought tooth and nail to survive…but I always felt like nothing I did mattered. And that feeling…it’s gotten worse since the day we learned we were in a pandemic.”

Jackson stands up with a solemn expression standing six feet next to Amber so she can know he’s still there. He always knew Amber was tough but seeing her breakdown and admit underneath it all is a scared girl has him feeling bad for her as she needed help for so long, but nobody has given it to her or even saw that she needed it.

Amber wipes her tears with the napkin, “Do you know why I became a doctor? I wanted to use the part of my brain that was healthy, the part of that was strong and decisive, the part that my mother’s illness wouldn’t touch. I wanted to feel like I was in control, like I mattered but now…” Amber shudders unable to finish.

Jackson can tell where she was going and finishes for her, “Now it feels like the career you choose to escape your hell from is just another one taking you back to your childhood.”

Amber whimpers as she nods confirming his theory causing her to blow her nose on the napkin before continuing, “I thought it was something I could get used to, something I could fight against until it ended. It’s why I’m working so hard till I’m bone tired, because it’s the only thing I know how to do in a crisis…but then I made a mistake that almost killed someone. I almost became the kind of doctor Andrew’s dad was the night he killed four patients…I almost became the kind of doctor that killed my father. The only difference is that unlike my father that man would have been missed by his family and I would have been the reason that wife lost her loving husband and why those kids lost their great dad. He could have died and not because of a virus I couldn’t control but because of something I could. He could have died because I was too weak to do the job I was entrusted with.”

“Amber look at me, look at me.” Amber sniffles and turns to face him and she grips the sink, “You are not weak, you are the least weak person I know. Mr. Wilkins could have died because of the Zofran you prescribed yes but he didn’t. He didn’t because you have people who could see you are understandably crumbling at all this death and illness surrounding us. And you realized your mistake, you remembered what the paramedics told you and you ran like hell to stop it. Shane Ross refused to sleep and talk to anyone about his problems. He didn’t help himself and it caused him to hallucinate and take your father in for a botched surgery that caused organ failure. Webber had to physically tell him what was happening right in front of him to get him to step down. He went down a rabbit hole and pushed everyone away and alienated anyone who tried to reach out. He refused to acknowledge what was wrong and stop himself from burning out and hurting patients in the process, that is the difference between the two of you. You stopped and you took a breath and came here to talk to someone who could help. I’ve learned from my nature walks that sometimes the best thing to do is to just stand still and let your feelings and your pain be known to you so you can know what is causing it to begin with.”

Amber presses her lips together as his words hit her and cause more tears to form in her eyes, “You stopped and stood still before you could go down the same path as Ross and Vincenzo DeLuca and have everything you worked hard to gain be taken away from you because you didn’t admit you weren’t okay. You did the hardest thing a person can do and that is not weakness. You are working in a hospital during a pandemic, and it can cause anyone to feel dejected and it’s especially hard for a person like you who knows the feeling of helplessness too well. What you are doing right now, admitting the problem in front of you after a lifetime of keeping your guard up, is not weakness, it is an act of incredible strength. And I don’t think I’ve ever been more proud of you than at this very moment.”

Amber shakes her head at that and replies numb, “I don’t feel strong.”

Jackson nods understanding that and decides to get to the next step Amber needs to take, “Don’t worry, you only have to be strong enough to do one more thing.”

Amber sniffles knowing the words that need to come out, it takes all her strength the muster the three words she has never said in her life, “…I need help.”

Amber exhales after saying these words feeling like a weight is being listed off her shoulders. She begins to sob at this admission of needing professional help knowing this will not be an easy journey but it’s one she must take in order to feel like her best self once again.

That Night

Andrew opens the door to his apartment feeling the need to shower and sleep as soon as he comes in. He exhales in exhaustion from work and his relationship. He hasn’t seen Amber since she walked out after refusing to talk to him. DeLuca doesn’t know where Amber is and hopes she took his advice and talked to someone about her struggles.

He enters the living room where he pauses at a shocking sight. He sees Amber sitting on the couch looking up at him sadly with two of her suitcases by her side packed. Andrew would normally think this is Amber leaving Andrew out of disdain for his insistence that she seek therapy. But seeing the sorrowful look on her face tells him a different story, it tells him this isn’t being done out of anger but out of seeking help for herself like he wanted.

Andrew moves to sit on the couch next to Amber and waits until she’s comfortable enough to speak to him, “…I’m not okay. I thought I was but I’m not okay. I know how to push through the pain and try to ignore it but…it’s too much death to ignore and it’s breaking me down. It feels like everything around me is just a constant reminder that I’m not good enough and I just feel helpless all over again. I felt helpless and weak growing up and I worked so hard to be strong and successful but now…now it’s like it was all for nothing, like I am nothing and it’s not going away.”

Andrew sighs at this holding her hand to let her know he is not going anywhere again, “It’s not going away and I…I know it’s gonna take a lot more than just surviving to get through it. I know I need to rest and actually face this thing and treat it like it’s a disease before I let it consume me. This thing…it’s been there since I was a kid and it’s gotten worse since March. It’s gotten worse to the point where I prescribed Zofran to a patient a paramedic told me he was allergic to. I almost let my trauma kill a man, if it wasn’t for Jackson, I would never forgive myself. And if it wasn’t for Jackson, I wouldn’t admit what you two saw before me. I need help. And that’s why I can’t stay here while I do. This apartment…it’s filled with horrible memories of one of the many times I felt like I was unworthy of love and felt like everyone I loved went crazy because I was in the same room as them.”

Amber sniffles and wipes a tear away causing Andrew anguish as he knows he caused her to feel that way along with her mom and brother. It causes him to have tears glisten in his eyes feeling responsible for hurting the woman he loves.

Amber faces him with a red rimmed eyes, “I know you didn’t mean it, I know it was the illness that caused you to act like that. All of this isn’t your fault, you were just a very tiny part of my long torturous life that piled on my psyche until this point.”

“But I was still a part of it.” Andrew says out of shame and regret, “I’m sorry, I wish I was a person to mend your pain instead of causing it. I want to be that person.”

“You were.” Amber admits truthfully, “You still are I just…I love you so much and right now I need some space for a little bit to figure out how to fix myself by myself. I need to do that otherwise I’m gonna rely on you or my family or my friends to feel better and that can’t be an option for me right now with everything going on. I need to figure out how to not feel like I’m dying inside.”

Andrew nods understanding this more than anyone as he has been there before and hopes Amber can heal like he’s trying to, “I’m gonna go to my brothers for a few weeks. It’s a safe place I think will be perfect for me while I take time off to sort myself out”

Andrew nods holding her hand tighter, “I know how hard this is, believe me and I wish I could say it’s gonna be easy but it’s not. It’s gonna be hard in the beginning but eventually you’re gonna finally move past your reluctance and whatever it is that’s making you feel like you are less important than you actually are. Trust me when I say, it’s gonna get better and I’ll be right here to help and right here when you get back. I promise, I’m not gonna stop loving you when you get help. I promise you I am not leaving this time, I’m here for good, I swear.”

Amber feels slightly better at that story looking at Andrew with love, “I know that. I love you too I just…I need space from you and everything else so I can focus on myself and get better. I need to stop fighting and just stand still. I need to do that for myself, I need to help myself.”

Andrew nods understanding her need to get her priorities straight like he did. He sees a little of the smart, strong and resilient woman he fell in love with right now even if she doesn’t. He leans forward and kisses her gently.

She reciprocates this kiss with a tear down her cheek as their lips touch. Amber touches the back of his neck bringing him closer as they stop kissing and instead lean against each other’s foreheads closing their eyes as they take in this last moment between them before Amber goes.

Andrew doesn’t feel sad but rather relief that the woman he loves is taking the time to heal and hopefully come back to him better like he did when his friends and family made him see that it was okay to admit your not okay.

He makes this known to Amber caressing her cheek and looking into her tearful eyes, “Your gonna be okay, I know it. I love you so much.”

“I love you.” Amber whispers back giving him another tender kiss before standing up and grabbing her suitcase with Andrew carrying the other. They walk out of the apartment to Amber’s car where they load the bags into the trunk before getting inside.

Amber is in the passenger seat with Andrew behind the wheel. Before he starts the engine, he looks over to find Amber looking down at her hands twiddling with her fingers. Andrew can tell she is scared to start this chapter just like he was when his sister drove him to the treatment center.

He looks at his girlfriend in sympathy and holds her shaking hands as a gesture of comfort. She appreciates this as she holds his hand with both of hers that shake less. Amber takes a moment to close her eyes and concentrate on her breathing.

She inhales and exhales slowly a few times before opening her eyes and looking at Andrew still holding his hand. Amber sniffles before nodding to let him know she’s okay. He nods back, giving her hands one good squeeze before letting go to start the car. Andrew begins to drive down the road with Amber looking out the window watching the landscape pass as she lets her breath out and closes her eyes to rest before she reaches her destination.

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spectralquartzafterdark · 11 months ago

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Simple and Clean ❙ Cliffjumper x Human OC!Auden ❙ Secret Santa Gift ❙ NSFW 18+

Word count: 2200+ Warnings: Near Death Experience Mention, Smut {Oral, Slight Size Difference, Sparkplay, Transfluid, All the Good Stuff }. NSFW 18+. Notes: We're back! Just in time for Christmas! This is Rhazberriquartz checking in with a Secret Santa gift for @robot-horde featuring their OC Auden and Cliffjumper! I hope you enjoy it!

Cliffjumper wasn't one to feel an urge to over compensate. Usually he was fine with being subtle or gently passionate. Especially when it came to his partner. But, that last battle terrified him. That enemy shot was too close to his spark and the damage had taken a week to repair with both Ratchet and Rosie's help. So, the minute he got a moment he swept Auden up and away from the team.

The mech needed to show Auden how much they meant to him. He needed to ground himself by showering his conjunx in as much affection as possible.

“Whoa slow down Cliff. What's eating you?” the voice of his conjunx pulled him from his own circuits.

“I…” he pulled away from the kiss trying to find the words, “That terrorcon interaction has me… frazzled. It's brought up a lot of insecurities and instead of stewing on them I wanted to act.”

Auden looked at him surprised, he had never seen Cliff this distraught before, “You've been through much worse what made this interaction different?”

Auden was trying to get him to talk. Cliffjumper knew this and knew if he didn't they'd be at a stand still all night. He pulled his human close and tried finding a comfortable position.

“The other hits were life threatening, sure, but my spark would've been safe. Ratchet or hell Rosie could've shoved me in a new body and I would've come back. But that hit damaged my casing… I felt my spark physically leaking from its holding… It's not a good experience. I've spoken to Rung and have been making sure to take care of myself, but he is the one who suggested I act on what I need to so long as it's healthy and well~”

He smiled seeing Auden snort and shake his head, “I understand you want to focus on positive aspects, but it's important to honor the more grueling feelings too. You're allowed to be depressed Cliff. You don't need to over compensate. You owe me respect and kindness, not a good mood. Please, never feel like you have t-”

“I know, but even with all of that it's just ironic.. It pulled me out of a dark place I didn't even know I was in! I promise I've been talking to Rung and others and keeping myself in check, just I wanted to show you how much you mean to me just in case something like that happens again. I want to be more active in showing you how I feel in more obvious ways.” Cliffjumper smiled, denta bared as he chuckled.

Auden was a little taken back by the admittance. He had never seen Cliff this open, but felt a bit of pride bubble up as they hugged the mech.

Cliff returned the affection and sighed, “Just being with you means the world to me. And I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you worry. I maybe should've shared what was going through my circuits.”

“Then show it to me big boy. While you have a chance.” Auden smirked knowing that he couldn't keep Cliff talking for long.

“Don't need to tell me twice.” The mech said moving to kiss Auden again. He was grateful he was naturally small so he didn't have to mess with mass displacement, “What would you be comfortable with today?”

“Mmm… I think if you really want to show me how much you want to spoil me I'd want to ride your intake.” Auden bit at some of Cliff's exposed neck cables, “And maybe you could let me ride you. After all, I'd like to reciprocate. I like the idea of being more active.”

Cliff vented a little surprised at how this conversation turned. He didn't think he'd get this far due to the subject at hand. It was heavy, but it seemed the therapy did in fact help him vocalize and express himself. He was glad he took Rungs advice.

“Can I keep my binder on?” Auden asked.

“Absolutely. I know interfacing takes uh time and I want you to be comfortable in your body first and foremost.” Cliff grinned.

Auden smirked, “See this is why I love you. But, frankly I'm too lazy to take it off.”

Both parties laughed as Auden shifted to get undressed. Cliff helped where he could, being careful to not rip the fabrics. Auden managed to wriggle out of everything that they wanted to. Cliff just stared at them, a big dumb grin on his face. If he could Blush enough for Auden to notice he was sure he'd be as red as the pain he wore.

“You're always so handsome.” Cliff said as he shifted in the berth, “Would you like a seat?”

“Absolutely. But first.” Auden leaned in and gave Cliff a kiss and nipped at his intake, “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me what was on your mind. I love you and I'm here to support you.”

Cliff's entire vent system hissed in response, “I love you too Auden. Thank you for understanding. But please, I need you. You have no idea how much I hyped myself up for this.”

“So needy I just got naked.” Auden laughed, shaking their head as they shifted to place themselves above Cliff's intake.

“Can't bla-” Cliff was cut off as Auden sat on his face and moaned, tasting the valve fluid Auden produced.

Cliff moved his servos to grip Auden's hips as he felt them rock against his intake. His glossa barely had the chance to find a rhythm. He vented and moaned, enjoying the weight of his partner on his faceplate. Something about having them this close was more comforting than anything from home. Cliff could hear Auden's moans and curses as he worked his glossa across their array. Making sure to pay close attention to the anterior node. It was almost big enough to treat like a spike and one day Cliff would be giving them a proper blow job.

Their taste was better than high grade energon and he devoured them like a starved mech. He could feel Auden's body wanting to overload and was more than willing to give that to his conjunx, but he felt Auden pull away. Cliff made a confused noise before Auden took their seat once more.

Auden was trying to edge themselves. Cliff smirked against their skin and pushed their glossa fully into them. He pulled their hips flush to his face as he fucked them with his glossa unrelenting. He could feel his own valve and spike pressurizing behind their panels. It was torture having to hold back. He wanted Auden so badly it physically ached.

He only pulled away from Auden when he felt them getting close to overload again. When they whined Cliff chuckled licking his intake.

“Mmm you seemed to want to be edged, sweetspark.” He teased.

“But not like that.” Auden teased holding onto his helm, “Fuck Cliff I didn't know you could eat me out like that…”

“Mmhmm… didn't think you'd like it.” He admitted.

“You were wrong shit.” Auden breathed in trying to relax, their legs shaking as they shifted.

“Noted, maybe one day you'll let me make you overload like that.” Cliff gently squeezed their hips.

“One day, but man I really want your spike.” Auden said, “Need you to fill me up.”

“Wish granted.” Cliff moved Auden over his panels, “Just one moment I was so busy taking care of you I didn't think to-”

“Goober.” Auden laughed as they kissed him.

Cliff allowed his modesty panels to fall away as his pressurized spike moved from its casing. It was always leaking with pre-fluid. His valve was soaked, but for now it could go ignored. Auden’s hands were immediately around his sensitive biomesh pulling a rumble from Cliff's engine.

“Frag really going to tease me?” He asked.

“Just a bit of revenge.” Auden replied with a cheeky smirk appearing on their lips.

Cliff groaned as Auden stroked his spike in a painfully slow manner. His vents hissed as Auden worked him up. If they weren't careful he wouldn't last long. He felt his pre dripping down and moaned when his conjunx moved their thumb across his slit.

He had almost overloaded just from that teasing prod, but thankfully they showed mercy on the bot. And finally sunk down onto him. Immediately Cliff's hips jerked up, causing a moan to fall from Auden's mouth.

“Careful there, Cliff. Almost too deep.” They said softly leaning over to kiss him

“Sorry, just frag you're so good. Hngh. Don't squeeze like that, I won't last long.” Cliff rumbled.

“I won't either, you worked me up too much.” They carefully started to move up and down the mech's spike, “Shit that feels good.”

Cliff carefully held Auden's waist returning the gentle kisses as they both found a pace they loved. Cliff could feel his spike throb as Auden worked it, and he could feel his partner flutter around him.

It was almost too much. His engine hummed in delight as they got lost in their moment. Kisses and intimacy too passionate to be shared with anyone else. Auden was his conjunx and moments like this reminded him just how much he loved, trusted and treasured Auden. And would for the rest of time. If Primus allowed he would spend the rest of his natural life with them.

Their pace increased, and Auden's moans filled his audials like a song. One just for him, and his spark finally felt content. He ran his servos across their body reaching any part they could as they got rougher and faster. Cliff made sure to worship their body whispering sweet nothings to them.

“Frag, Auden you're so handsome I can barely hold back.” He whimpered.

“Then don't.” Auden smirked, “You said you wanted to show me-”

It didn't take long for Cliff to adjust their potions as he smirked down at the smaller human.

“Mmmmm I do~ just enjoy Auden. I want to hear your voice reverberating in my Audials all night.” Cliff said, noting the look of excitement on his lover's face.

He pistoned into them, making sure his spike was hitting all the right places inside of them. He has memorized every sensitive spot over the years and loved when he was allowed to take advantage of them. He rubbed the tip of his spike in a soft delicate part of Auden and was rewarded with a moan so deep it triggered his vents. He was going to make sure both of them felt ecstacy tonight. He hummed softly and licked his intake. He had a thought and decided now was the time to show off a new mod.

His spike vibrated. Auden howled in surprise and pleasure as they tried to pull Cliff closer. Cliff obliged and kissed them, moaning softly. But something was still missing as he pulled away. He thought for a moment and knew what he wanted. Maybe it would allow him to show how much he trusted them.

“Auden… I need all of you.” He said as his chassis shifted, his spark now in full view.

“Cliff…” Auden was overwhelmed, their hands shakily reaching out, “I never thought…”

“C-Call it taking back autonomy. Only you get to decide what happens to my SPARK!” Cliff gasped as Auden's fingers delved right in.

He could feel his conjunx’s love directly now and it drove him further into his frenzy. It was nothing like he had ever felt before. It was so gentle, but raw and violent. Delicate, but strong enough to prevent a star from going supernova. It was a concoction of contradictions and it was beautiful.

“Harder cliff I'm so close.” Auden begged fingers playing in Cliff's spark.

“M-me too right there ahhh Primus please I wanna overload so bad.” He whimpered, begging for permission.

“Please, me too.” They whined.

And in a rare moment both of their hips snapped together as they overloaded at the same time. Cliff felt electricity running through circuits he didn't know existed as Auden kept a firm grip on his Spark. He almost sobbed in pleasure as they kept each other close. His lover’s body milking him of all his transfluid.

It was a slow fall from cloud nine, but as soon as he was aware of more than himself and Auden he took the moment to pull away.

“Auden, dear spark are you okay?” He shivered as Auden pulled their hands away from his Spark.

“Mmmm more than okay.” They replied, “But, mmm glad that our bodies aren't compatible for Sparklings. Your overload was something~ and I admit I think that's the best orgasm I've had.”

Cliff laughed softly and kissed them, “I'm glad to be of service. Let me get you cleaned up, love.”

Cliff gently pulled out and away admiring the pink fluids pouring from his partner. He smirked and let his panels retract and his chassis close up before fetching some shower wipes, towel, fluids and snacks.

He hummed softly as he gently cleaned the mess he made. Showering his spark mate with kisses. He made sure both they and the berth were pristine before he cuddled up with Auden.

He smiled as he watched Auden drink and eat the snacks he had brought back. And something in him felt safe once more. The need to be overbearing had finally gone. Perhaps what he really needed was a gentle touch to his spark and an intimate night with his conjunx.

Something really are that simple.

#Valveplug #Cliffjumper #Cliffjumper x Human #Original Character #Rosie Writes #Cliffjumper x Auden #robot x human

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lunarcovehq · 3 months ago

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Devrim Selvi is a human that currently resides in Echo Acres and has been a Lunar Cove resident for 2 years.

ITS THE END OF THE WORLD

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis Man, He/Him

DATE OF BIRTH: May 5, 1992

OCCUPATION: Dentist at Bright Bite

FACECLAIM: Furkan Andıç

AS WE KNOW IT, AND I FEEL FINE

SPECIES: Human

COALITION POSITION: Member

WELCOME TO LUNAR COVE, DEVRIM SELVI

Trigger Warnings: Arrest, Missing Person, Adoption, Rockslide, Death, TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury)

In 1992, on May 5th, in Ankara, Turkey, Bulut and Hadiye Selvi welcomed their first and only child. Although they would try for more in the years after, Devrim Selvi wouldn’t have any siblings. Painfully shy as a young boy, the Selvis worried for their son. When Devrim was three years old his parents moved to New York City. Bulut’s brother Berk had a young daughter about Devrim’s age, and the Selvi family agreed it would be good to raise their children together.

In the states, Bulut continued to work as a dentist while Hadiye taught at a public school. Devrim remained shy, but it became less of an issue with his little cousin, Dilan, around. She did a lot of the talking on his behalf. While the children were different, they got along well because of it. Living different lifestyles, unaware of how the other Selvi’s afforded their luxurious means, Devrim and Dilan attended different schools in the city. Once in highschool, Devrim was selected to attend Bronx Science; a stem school for mathematics and science. It was there he thrived, truly coming out of his shell for the first time. When his aunt and uncle were arrested and Dilan disappeared, Devrim’s social progress took a hit. His parents searched for her for years, hoping to adopt and care for their teenage niece, but without success.

While living in a major metropolitan area, Devrim’s parents liked to take their family vacations in nature. It’s what fostered Devrim’s love for science and nature at a young age. The Selvi family spent a few weeks every summer camping in the mountains or on a lake, even after Devrim graduated from high school. At nineteen years old, on the family’s annual camping expedition, Devrim and his father were caught in a rockslide. Bulut did not survive, and Devrim was lucky to be alive.

Following the accident, Devrim was diagnosed with a TBI and had to overcome many physical and mental challenges on his healing journey. He was forced to drop out of school to focus on his recovery. Devrim underwent extensive physical therapy after his accident. During which time he realized he wanted to work in the medical field. After he was on the mend, his mother left the United States to return to their home of Ankara, Turkey to live with her sisters.

In spite of his struggles, Devrim eventually continued to pursue an education and earned his bachelors in biology before attending dental school. An endeavor he decided upon to honor his late father’s memory. After dental school, he began a residency in oral surgery out in California. His mother was proud. She told him his father would have been, too. All Devrim could do was believe her, because his father was gone and couldn't tell his son he was himself. There would be no Selvi and Son dental office, and he’d always carry the responsibility for that.

During the second year of his residency the private investigator he’d personally hired to search for Dilan after his parents stopped found her. Ironically, she was living not far from where they grew up in some part of Rhode Island he’d never heard of. A single letter, addressed to one Dilan Selvi of Lunar Cove, Rhode Island, would change Devrim’s life forever.

Rarely a conversationalist, when Devrim reunited with Dilan he had a million questions. Her answers only sparked even more. It was a struggle for his rational mind to understand that the supernatural existed. Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, and Fae. His cousin was a subtype of the latter. A pixie, a changeling, swapped with the human Dilan Selvi at birth. It never, not once, changed how Devrim saw Dilan. They were family, whether by blood or not. A certainty that made it easier, with time, to accept that everything he knew about the natural world had changed.

After completing his residency, Devrim decided to move to Lunar Cove, Rhode Island. While he had no memory of the magical, fantastical, supernatural he’d experienced within the town’s borders, Devrim knew all he needed to know about his new home. Dilan Selvi lived there. His cousin who spoke for him when he’d yet to find his voice, who he had searched for for years, finally found. She was his family, and there was nothing more important to Devrim than that.

Devrim was offered a job at a dentist office in town, as well as PRN work at the local hospital. In time, he adapted to the unique needs of his supernatural patients. Acclimated but still amazed by the magic of Lunar Cove's townspeople. Devrim’s fascination led him to begin his own research about the biology of the supernatural. His work consumes most of his time. What he doesn’t spend working or with family, Devrim spends in his cabin, deep within Echo Acres. A hike from town, but he prefers the solitude. Despite his accident, the avid outdoorsmen never lost his love for nature and finds the woods particularly peaceful. The morning of each full moon he puts out blankets and coffee for the wolves that call it home, too.

#devrim selvi #coalition member #taken human #bright bite #all #furkan andıç

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atalantethewaldfee · 10 months ago

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Fairytales

I kind of noticed a big misunderstanding of German fairytales.

There are two kinds of fairytales.

The folk fairytale:

This are your classic fairytales, born from a thousand years of oral history. Most of the Brother Grimm's fairytales are folk fairytales. Folk fairytales end well for the Heros and terrible for the villains (example: snow white- the evil queen is forced to dance in hot iron shoes till she dies, in snow whites Wedding)

It plays in an unknown land and in an unknown time. (starting phrase of fairytales in German : For langer, langer Zeit, in einem weiteren entfernten Land [A long, long time ago, in a far away land]) and features stereotypical characters like 'big bad wolf' and 'beatiful princess'.

It often uses magical numbers like...

7 (seven dwarves behind seven mountains, 7 ravens, seven flys killed' at once, seven Kids(?)/ little goats)

3 (three taskes, three ways to kill Snow White, three Balls in 'Aschenputtel' (German Cinderella))(examples for this are a little hard to explain in few words because they're so specific)

13 (thirteen fairies in sleeping beauty)

These stories are often uses to explain morals or rules of survival. (Don't abuse your Kids/ step Kids, don't just Run into the woods, don't let strangers into the House)

The Art fairytale:

This fairytales was written by an author and is Not meant to explain a rule or bring hope.

Most of these are very tragic. The little Mermaid (from Hans Christian Andersen) would be a good example.

Others would be 'The Steadfast Tin Soldier'(also from Hans Christian Andersen) or the 'girl with the matches' (ALSO from Hans Christian Andersen)(goodnes he wrote a lot of these, this poor man's mental health really was bad)(Spoiler: the solider and the girl die)

Hans Christian Andersen wrote 156 Art fairytales. Remember: they all endet badly! I think the guy set in Stone what an Art fairytales is?!? I did Not know that? I Just wanted to teach about fairytales, I did NOT want to learn about this man's tragic live.

Like this are two books, full of fairytales (mostly Art fairytales) from the guy.

TWO books.

And the title reads ' Die schönsten Haus- und Weihnachtsmärchen' (The Most beautiful home and Christmas fairytales)

Beautiful fairytales my ass. The guy kust did therapy but as written stories. I mean, he wrote Snow Queen, which kind of ends well? But that doesn't really make it better.

So before I end this, to mull over Hans mental health:

Fairytales are not the only type of German folk Story. They are a very specific Type, that follows specific rules. Other types follows other rules.

Not every German folk Story ist a fairytale. And other very old Stories can end badly, but then it's not a fairytale. Not a folk one at least. But maybe it's danish and actually from this depressed Gay Poet that seems to have written all the Art fairytales of my childhood. Further more, there are many folk fairytales that do not come from Germany, but those also follow These rules more or less. (There are also a lot of different versions of the same fairytale all over Europe)

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rockislandadultreads · 2 years ago

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Read-Alike Recommendations: Daisy Jones & the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Mary Jane by Jessica Anya Blau

In 1970s Baltimore, fourteen-year-old Mary Jane loves cooking with her mother, singing in her church choir, and enjoying her family’s subscription to the Broadway Show Tunes of the Month record club. Shy, quiet, and bookish, she’s glad when she lands a summer job as a nanny for the daughter of a local doctor. A respectable job, Mary Jane’s mother says. In a respectable house.

The house may look respectable on the outside, but inside it’s a literal and figurative mess: clutter on every surface, IMPEACHMENT: Now More Than Ever bumper stickers on the doors, cereal and takeout for dinner. And even more troublesome (were Mary Jane’s mother to know, which she does not): The doctor is a psychiatrist who has cleared his summer for one important job—helping a famous rock star dry out. A week after Mary Jane starts, the rock star and his movie star wife move in.

Over the course of the summer, Mary Jane introduces her new household to crisply ironed clothes and a family dinner schedule, and has a front-row seat to a liberal world of sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll (not to mention group therapy). Caught between the lifestyle she’s always known and the future she’s only just realized is possible, Mary Jane will arrive at September with a new idea about what she wants out of life, and what kind of person she’s going to be.

Songs in Ursa Major by Emma Brodie

The year is 1969, and the Bayleen Island Folk Fest is abuzz with one name: Jesse Reid. Tall and soft-spoken, with eyes blue as stone-washed denim, Jesse Reid's intricate guitar riffs and supple baritone are poised to tip from fame to legend with this one headlining performance. That is, until his motorcycle crashes on the way to the show.

Jane Quinn is a Bayleen Island local whose music flows as naturally as her long blond hair. When she and her bandmates are asked to play in Jesse Reid's place at the festival, it almost doesn't seem real. But Jane plants her bare feet on the Main Stage and delivers the performance of a lifetime, stopping Jesse's disappointed fans in their tracks: A star is born.

Jesse stays on the island to recover from his near-fatal accident and he strikes up a friendship with Jane, coaching her through the production of her first record. As Jane contends with the music industry's sexism, Jesse becomes her advocate, and what starts as a shared calling soon becomes a passionate love affair. On tour with Jesse, Jane is so captivated by the giant stadiums, the late nights, the wild parties, and the media attention, that she is blind-sided when she stumbles on the dark secret beneath Jesse's music. With nowhere to turn, Jane must reckon with the shadows of her own past; what follows is the birth of one of most iconic albums of all time.

The Final Revival of Opal & Nev by Dawnie Walton

Opal is a fiercely independent young woman pushing against the grain in her style and attitude, Afro-punk before that term existed. Coming of age in Detroit, she can’t imagine settling for a 9-to-5 job—despite her unusual looks, Opal believes she can be a star. So when the aspiring British singer/songwriter Neville Charles discovers her at a bar’s amateur night, she takes him up on his offer to make rock music together for the fledgling Rivington Records.

In early seventies New York City, just as she’s finding her niche as part of a flamboyant and funky creative scene, a rival band signed to her label brandishes a Confederate flag at a promotional concert. Opal’s bold protest and the violence that ensues set off a chain of events that will not only change the lives of those she loves, but also be a deadly reminder that repercussions are always harsher for women, especially black women, who dare to speak their truth.

Decades later, as Opal considers a 2016 reunion with Nev, music journalist S. Sunny Shelton seizes the chance to curate an oral history about her idols. Sunny thought she knew most of the stories leading up to the cult duo’s most politicized chapter. But as her interviews dig deeper, a nasty new allegation from an unexpected source threatens to blow up everything.

The Animators by Kayla Rae Whitaker

In the male-dominated field of animation, Mel Vaught and Sharon Kisses are a dynamic duo, the friction of their differences driving them: Sharon, quietly ambitious but self-doubting; Mel, brash and unapologetic, always the life of the party. Best friends and artistic partners since the first week of college, where they bonded over their working-class roots and obvious talent, they spent their twenties ensconced in a gritty Brooklyn studio. Working, drinking, laughing. Drawing: Mel, to understand her tumultuous past, and Sharon, to lose herself altogether.

Now, after a decade of striving, the two are finally celebrating the release of their first full-length feature, which transforms Mel’s difficult childhood into a provocative and visually daring work of art. The toast of the indie film scene, they stand at the cusp of making it big. But with their success come doubt and destruction, cracks in their relationship threatening the delicate balance of their partnership. Sharon begins to feel expendable, suspecting that the ever-more raucous Mel is the real artist. During a trip to Sharon’s home state of Kentucky, the only other partner she has ever truly known—her troubled, charismatic childhood best friend, Teddy—reenters her life, and long-buried resentments rise to the surface, hastening a reckoning no one sees coming.

#fiction #music #coming of age stories #readalikes #Library Books #reading recommendations #Reading Recs #book recommendations #Book recs #TBR pile #tbr #to read #Want To Read #Booklr #book tumblr #book blog #library blog

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mcatmemoranda · 2 years ago

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I have 2 pediatric pts who had high blood lead levels. Their lead levels are now normal. But one of them has iron deficiency (even though her Hgb is normal).

Individuals who are severely iron deficient can absorb up to 7 times more lead, as the body responds to iron deficiency by dispatching increasing amounts of the iron transporter DMT1 into the gut. Unfortunately DMT1 can carry eight metals including lead and will transport lead if insufficient iron is available.

Source

From UpToDate: To initiate oral iron therapy, we suggest a dose of 3 mg/kg of elemental iron once daily, rather than higher doses. A 3 mg/kg dose of ferrous sulfate is generally effective and is tolerated by most children. For optimal absorption, the iron should be given in the morning or between meals and with water or juice. Milk and/or dairy products should be avoided for approximately one hour before and two hours after each dose.

Meanwhile, the following dietary goals should be implemented to prevent recurrence: •Infants (less than 12 months of age) should be fed with breast milk or iron-fortified formula. Infants should not be given low-iron formula or unmodified cow's milk.

•For patients six months and older, especially breastfed infants, ensure adequate consumption of iron in complementary foods. These include infant cereals, which are fortified with iron, foods rich in vitamin C, and pureed meats.

•For children older than 12 months of age, intake of milk (cow, almond, or soy) should be limited to less than 20 oz per day and bottle feeding should be discontinued to limit milk intake. Excessive milk intake is the primary reason for the development of IDA (Iron Defifiency Anemia) in this age group and can be associated with occult intestinal blood loss.

●After beginning therapeutic iron, perform follow-up testing to determine the response, consisting of a complete blood count (CBC) or hemoglobin (Hgb). The testing should be performed when the child is healthy, approximately four weeks after beginning iron therapy for children with mild anemia or one to two weeks after beginning iron therapy in those with moderate to severe anemia. Follow-up is essential to confirm that the anemia was due to iron deficiency and to ensure that it is adequately treated.

●Management of responders – If the Hgb has increased by 1 g/dL, therapy is continued for at least three months, at which time, the CBC is retested. Iron therapy should be given for at least three months, and many children require longer treatment courses to replenish iron stores. In general, iron therapy should be continued for at least one month after the Hgb reaches the age-adjusted normal range. If possible, a serum ferritin concentration should be measured to check iron stores prior to discontinuation of iron therapy, with a goal threshold of ≥20 ng/mL.

●Further evaluation for nonresponders – Patients who do not demonstrate an adequate response within four weeks of initiating iron therapy should be reevaluated. Potential causes of recurrent or refractory IDA include ineffective treatment (nonadherence or incorrect dosing), ongoing low-iron diet, an incorrect diagnosis, or ongoing blood loss or malabsorption. Our approach is as follows:

•Interview the parent or caregiver to determine whether the iron therapy has been given at the appropriate dose and timing, whether the appropriate diet modifications have been made, and if there has been any significant intercurrent illness (which might cause a transient decrease in Hgb). The most common reason for failure is that the treatment plan was not correctly followed.

•If the patient has indeed been taking an appropriate dose of iron and has not had an intercurrent illness, assess detailed dietary history and/or perform additional laboratory tests to confirm the diagnosis (eg, iron testing, if not previously performed) and rule out conditions that might simulate or complicate IDA such as thalassemia trait or anemia of chronic disease. In addition, for children with persistent or recurrent IDA despite appropriate dietary changes and iron therapy, stool samples should be tested for occult blood. If the results are positive, additional screening should be performed for common causes of gastrointestinal blood loss, including cow's milk protein-induced colitis in infants and celiac disease and inflammatory bowel disease in older children.

●Intravenous (IV) iron therapy – IV iron therapy may be warranted for patients with severe or persistent anemia who have proven oral iron intolerance, malabsorption, or nonadherence despite family/caregiver education and support to optimize oral therapy. Several forms of IV iron therapy with good safety profiles are available for use in pediatrics. Selection among these options may depend on relative costs and availability, time required for administration, and maximum permissible dose per infusion.

#iron deficiency #lead #lead poisoning

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longhaulerbear · 2 years ago

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Resia Pretorius Ph.d. has been calling attention to the dark, misshapen, gunky microclots and related problems (damaged platelets, blood vessel issues, and iron dysregulation) she’s been finding in chronic diseases for years. These clots are apparently hard for the body to break down and may be impeding blood flows to the issues.

Over the past couple of years, though, with at least six papers under their belts, she and Douglas Kell have been publishing furiously on their findings in long COVID. Last year they published the results of a small clinical trial using their multipronged approach. Eight months or so later they’re back with more results from more patients (91).

As before, their triple therapy included Dual Antiplatelet Therapy (DAPT) (Clopidogrel 75 mg/aspirin 75 mg) once a day, plus direct oral anticoagulant (DOAC) (Apixiban) 5 mg twice a day, and a proton pump inhibitor (PPI) (e.g., pantoprazole 40 mg/day for gastric protection) was used over 3-4 weeks.

The symptom assessments seemed pretty rudimentary but the results were good. Symptoms such as fatigue, sleep, and cognitive problems reportedly resolved in many patients and when asked about their “global health” approximately 50% of the participants stated that they were at the very least “better” and had received “a definite improvement that has made a real and worthwhile difference”;

The authors warned that this protocol should only be taken under the close guidance of a medical professional. Side effects were mostly minimal, however. Out of 91 participants, 75 reported bruising, 5 reported minor nosebleeds, 2 increased menstrual bleeding, and one person had a gastrointestinal bleed that required hospitalization and a 2-unit blood transfusion. The authors believed that the “relatively low bleeding risk” was due to the fact a hypercoagulable state was present that needed to be addressed.

Apparently, because it took longer to treat the longer-duration patients, the authors also warned that delaying these treatments might “prolong the duration of pharmacotherapy and also increase the likelihood of permanent hypoxic tissue damage”. (Ouch!).

They strongly urged that large, randomized, double-blind, placebo-controlled trials with objective endpoints be done as quickly as possible.

The potentially good news is that the body will slowly remove the microclots. That means that if they can stop them from forming in the first place, normal blood flows should eventually resume and healing should take place.

They also proposed that when long-COVID or ME/CFS patients rest, they build up “a cellular ‘reservoir’” that helps them feel better. When they exert themselves, that oxygen reservoir becomes depleted – leading to a “crash”.

They also proposed that the autonomic nervous system issues in these diseases are caused by damage to the blood vessels.

Their treatment approach has yet to be tested in ME/CFS, fibromyalgia, or postural orthostatic intolerance syndrome (POTS). All three diseases, however, show evidence of clotting, platelet activation, and/or blood vessel issues.

A large placebo-controlled, randomized trial is clearly the next step

#long covid #covid treatment #microclots #TeamClots

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nessinborderland · 2 years ago

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V-E-N-U-S (02)

Pairing: Rafe x plus size!Reader

Genre: smut, dark-ish fic

Word Count: 6 ,2k

What he would've never guessed was how much that name would fit you now as a grown woman.

Notes: This chapter ended up being an over 10k words beast, so I had to split it in two lol. Enjoy 💖 and please reblog and leave me a comment if you like, I would love to know what are your thoughts on this ff.

AO3 | Masterlist | Part 1

Leaving that room after you fucked Rafe Cameron had felt a lot like your ‘walk of shame’ debut. It was like a beam of light shone down on you, following you as you rushed down the stairs into the foyer and out of the house. You could feel the stares of partygoers – at least the ones sober enough to realize what had transpired between you – and the whispers and giggles as you passed by them couldn’t be ignored.

You cursed Rafe for the hundredth time that night – knowing how gossip went around the island, it would be common knowledge by the next day’s afternoon that something had happened between you and the Kook Prince.

Something you had instantly come to regret.

It had all been your fault.

Your first mistake was thinking that teasing Rafe Cameron would be a good idea. The furtive looks, the coy smiles, the light seducing – it had all been part of your plan. You wanted to watch him squirm, to have him pay in some way for all he had done to you in high school. He would never apologize, and you would never forgive him, but having at least some power over him would be enough.

Or so you thought.

Nothing was supposed to come out of it besides the blond’s frustration and the sweet taste of revenge on your tongue as you rejected his advances again and again. You wanted to make him mad with want and, in a way, you suppose you had succeeded.

You just never expected to fall for your own game.

You couldn’t deny it though; sex with Rafe had been amazing. You were no sex goddess by any means – despite your nickname – but you knew for a fact that none of the guys you had sex with before could ever compare to the dick that had quite possibly ruined your sex life.

The intensity in his eyes when he had fucked you hard and deep, the way his big hands had smoothed over your curves, the way he had filled you up and touched that magical spot just right, how he had kissed you… it was like you could still feel it all, from your trembling legs to your still racing heart.

A flush of heat crept up your chest and cheeks at the memories, making you open up your light jacket despite the chilly night air.

Your legs felt like jelly, your hair was a tangled mess, your skin was no doubt starting to bruise from his love bites, and you knew for a fact that you would be sore the next morning. The wet mess between your folds was hard to ignore, and you would have to say goodbye to your cute – but now ruined – bikini bottom as soon as you got home.

You shook your head at your own stupidity; why the hell had you let him get inside you without a condom on? You knew better than that! Thank God you were on the pill, though. That was one less thing for you to worry about.

You moaned in discomfort as you sat on the curb right in front of the house, refusing to look back despite the heavy feeling of being watched.

Fucking perv.

When he asked you to see him again, the look in his eyes made you wonder how much longer you would regret this little adventure. You weren’t even that drunk, to begin with, so what demon had possessed you to do something as foolish as getting in bed with Rafe Cameron?

A text notification made your phone vibrate, and you opened it to read your cousin’s text.

‘omw. u ok?’ it read. You texted him back a thumbs-up emoji, already knowing he would probably ask you several questions when he finally arrived.

John B had called and texted a few times after Rafe had taken your phone from you, asking what was going on and if you were okay, with – obviously – no response. But your baby cousin wasn’t one to dramatically worry over you, and you were glad for that. His last text had been a simple ‘call me back when you can’ followed by ‘or I’ll send the rescue team’.

Thankfully for you, you were done with Rafe before John B worried too much, and you were sending him a text asking him to come get you as soon as you were dressed and with your phone back in your possession.

You bit the nail on your thumb as you wondered how your cousin would react to the exciting news of your rendezvous with Rafe Cameron.

In one word: badly. After everything the blond had done to him, his friends, and Sarah – done to you – there was no doubt in your mind that John B would go berserk over it. Not to mention JJ, you thought with a grimace. That boy would gladly try to kill Rafe with his bare hands any day of the week if he could get away with it; but after hearing about this?

Absolute chaos.

And that was why you sincerely hoped that the rumors of tonight’s activities never reached their ears. Wishful thinking, you were well aware. You and Rafe just tended to draw too much attention when you were in the same vicinity, for some reason, and even your family knew you didn’t get along. The downside of always fighting him in public, you suppose.

Like on cue, a honk and a flash of light broke you out of your thoughts, and you stood up as the Twinkie rolled down the street till it stopped right by the house, your cousin in the driver’s seat waving at you with a tight smile on his lips.

“Thanks for picking me up, Bibi,” you said in greeting as you opened the door and sat on the passenger seat, reclining against the leather seat with a wince that your cousin thankfully didn’t seem to notice.

The van was empty besides the two of you. Good, you thought as you glanced back at the house – where music and loud voices could be heard even from outside, the party still going strong despite being almost three in the morning. You didn’t think you would be able to face Sarah Cameron right now; or any of the others, for that matter.

“No problem,” John B said as he started driving away. “Why didn’t you answer my calls, though? Got worried when that guy took your phone.”

“Sorry,” you said with a grimace, hoping he would just accept your apology without asking further questions. “I just got busy talking and didn’t notice your calls. You know I can’t shut up if someone brings up my favorite series.”

He hummed, not sounding totally convinced. It made you nervous just a little. “As long as you’re okay…” He sent you a side glance. “A Kook party, though? Thought you didn’t do those, with the chance of running into him and all that…”

“Oh, you know me, just trying to broaden my horizons and find out how the one percent lives.” You snorted, set on ignoring his last sentence. “And they live pretty damn well. Heated pools, bathrooms bigger than my bedroom, and, not surprisingly, a whole lot of coke. Not gonna lie, might do just like you and get me a Kook. Is Sarah looking for another sugar baby?”

John B chuckled at your words, lightly punching you in the arm.

“Ha ha ha, Sarah is not my sugar mommy.”

“Of course, keep telling yourself that,” you laughed, playfully pulling at the collar of his shirt. “But I know good clothes when I see them, and I also know you can’t afford them, so…”

“Fine, this was a gift, okay?” He swatted your hand away, and his expression slowly returned to one of mild worry. “So, nothing happened, right? Was it a fun party? You do look like you had a good time…”

You couldn’t help but notice that it sounded more like a question than a statement, and you wondered if he could notice you had fucked his nemesis not even fifteen minutes ago. You shook the thoughts away; he couldn’t possibly know already and, hopefully, he never would.

You looked at him with a raised brow.

“Is this your attempt at an interrogation, cuz?”

He scoffed, but his ears started turning red. “Of course not, I’m just asking.”

“If you really want to know, yes, Rafe was there, and yes, he was an asshole the whole time. But I can’t resist a good fight where he’s involved, so what was I supposed to do? Leave?” You scoffed like it was a ridiculous option. “Someone got to slap that smug smirk off his face, and it might as well be me.”

“Damn right,” he laughed, the sound sounding forced. Then his brow furrowed, and his smile dropped. “Hmm… was he the guy that took your phone, by any chance?”

You froze, meeting his eye through the rearview mirrors.

“What?” you asked with an awkward chuckle. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, I was with Sarah when you called and she could swear it was her brother on the phone,” he clarified with a shrug. Then he hesitated, unsure of what to say before adding, “So, was he?”

“Yeah,” you confessed in a nonchalant tone. “He was just messing with me, though, nothing out of the ordinary for him.”

“Okay, cool, cool.” He paused for a moment, then spoke again, “He hasn’t been too bad, right? We all know what he’s capable of, and sometimes I just worry he will get too far. He always had this weird little obsession with fucking with you.” Oh, you have no idea, Bibi. “You know you can tell me and the guys if he ever crosses the line, right?”

“You got nothing to worry about, B,” you eased with a pat on his arm. “We both know he can’t hurt me anymore. Besides, I can fight.”

He laughed at your words, visibly relaxing, and you let out a deep sigh as he reached for the radio, Bob Marley’s voice filling the van with the lyrics of ‘Could You Be Loved’ and finally putting an end to this conversation.

«»«»«»«»«»

Working at The Island Club was usually a bearable affair. The money could be better, but the team was good, the hours weren’t bad, and the work – although exhaustive most days – was doable. The clients – mostly Kooks and tourists – weren’t that bad either and, more importantly, tipped well.

All in all, a job was a job, and you liked this one for the most part. You had mouths to feed and bills to pay after all, so it was not like you had a choice in the matter. You needed to work if you wanted to finally get into college sometime next year. You were thankful this job even let you have enough free time to focus on writing your novel.

However, today was turning into a rather hellish shift.

The party had been almost a week ago, and you had come to realize something.

Sleeping with Rafe Cameron had been a mistake. Not just a simple one, no – but a huge fucking mistake. One that would haunt you for the rest of your life (like a part of you knew it would). You could see that now. You had never regretted a stupid decision as much as you did at that moment, trying to do your job with the devil’s gaze burning your back.

To put it simply, your night together had changed something between you, while simultaneously changing nothing at all.

Rafe had barely said a word to you all week, but his heated stare as you professionally greeted him and Topper while setting their way-too-expensive prime ham sandwiches down on the table, said plenty. It was like he was expecting you to fall into his lap if he looked at you hard enough, blue gaze following your every move as you worked.

It was driving you crazy, and he knew it.

You had seen him almost every day since that Saturday night and, without fail, the blond made sure to make you as uneasy as he could until he either left or you clocked out.

And that wasn’t even the worst part.

People knew.

You hadn’t heard any rumors yourself and – by some miracle – neither John B nor any of his friends had mentioned it in any way. But you were aware that people knew if the hushed whispers of your and Rafe’s name said in the same sentence was any indication.

Like right now, you could feel the curious glances of the familiar-looking girls you were serving virgin margaritas to alternate between you and the men you had just served, their whispered giggles a good indication of what their conversation was about.

You didn’t dare turn, but you hoped that Rafe was keeping his eyes to himself right now; the last thing you needed was to make people even more curious about the both of you.

“Hey, Venus, can I ask you something?” Claire, one of the girls, asked in a conspiratorial whisper before giggling as she exchanged a look with her sister. The brunette didn’t wait for your answer before proceeding, “Is it true that you and Rafe Cameron had like… a thing at Allan’s party? Because we’ve heard some rumors…”

“I don’t know what–”

Does that mean you don’t hate each other anymore?” the other sister interrupted, nodding in Rafe’s direction just two tables away “Oh my God, are you guys dating?”.

“How is he in bed though?”

“Did you actually–”

“Okay, look, girls,” you said in a firm tone before any of them could utter another word. “I don’t know what you heard, but I’m glad to inform you that our mutual hate for each other is still very much alive. So, if that’s all…” you sent them a tight smile and moved to walk away. “Enjoy your drinks.”

You let out a deep sigh as you made a beeline for the kitchens, urging for a break and a cold glass of water. The kitchen was hot and loud, the sound of dishwashing machines and people talking just what you needed to zone out for a bit after the lunch hour rush, and this conversation that was about to give you an anxiety attack.

This was the first time anyone had actually asked you something about it, but you doubted it would be the last. The worst of it all was the fact that you were pretty sure that Rafe and his friend had heard every bit of that awkward convo, given their proximity and the girl’s apparent difficulty with speaking quietly.

You were on your second glass of water, leaning by a counter out of the way of the kitchen staff when the unthinkable happened.

“Hey, V.”

“Hey, JJ,” You greeted the blond boy back – still deep in your thoughts – as he leaned on the counter right beside you.

And that’s when he asked the forbidden question.

“Did something happen between you and Kook Prince out there?” he asked in a curious tone. “And I don’t mean you guys fighting – you do that all the time – I mean… you know… fucking.” As if his words weren’t enough, he added an obscene gesture as he said the word, his expression serious despite the question.

Your mouth dropped open in a scandalized scowl, the glass in your hand almost slipping from your fingers as the words registered.

If he knows, John B knows, was your immediate thought.

You fully turned to face JJ, his baby-blue eyes fixing you with a probing look that also seemed just a tad bit judgmental like it was actually his business who you were or weren’t fucking. But you knew that your sex life wasn’t the problem; who, specifically, was the problem. And you couldn’t really blame him, or anyone, for that; not when the who in question was Rafe fucking Cameron.

A beat passed where neither of you said a word, and you knew then that – didn’t matter whatever you said from now on – would be annulled by your initial silence. JJ had always been too perceptive for his own good, and you weren’t helping your case by just staring at him like a fish out of water.

But you still had to give it a try and save your remaining dignity; even if that meant lying with all your might.

-Excuse me?” you asked in your most offended tone, pinning him with a raised brow and a hand on your hip. “Do you even hear yourself? Do you really think that I would ever let a Kook – especially that one–- touch me like that?”

But JJ was harder to intimidate than most boys his age, and his eyes widened as he exclaimed in a tone loud enough to attract the kitchen staff’s attention: “Holy shit, are you fucking kidding me, is that a yes?! Did you and Cameron actually–”

You hurried to press a hand against his mouth, muffling his next words.

“Don’t. You. Dare,” you threatened, carefully intonating each word. “Say another word and you’ll never get a taste of my special brownies ever again. That’s a promise, JJ, I’ll make you regret it.”

His wide eyes relaxed, his surprised gaze turning into a playful one before you felt his tongue on your palm, making you drop it from his mouth with a sound of disgust followed by a slap on his shoulder.

“Ugh, you’re unbelievable! Where the hell did you even hear that, anyway?”

“So, you know the twins right – I had this thing with Claire, doesn’t matter now – but she just asked me if I knew anything about you and Cameron and no, I fucking did not! She told me people saw you fight and lock yourselves in a room. Like, what is that all about?”

“Those are rumors, and I’m honestly quite upset that you believe them.”

“Well, I didn’t until you looked at me like that,” he said, gesturing at you. “You always get wide-eyed when you’re lying. C’mon, you know you can tell me,” his expression turned deadly serious in an instant. “Did Rafe do anything to you? Did he–”

“Oh my god, JJ, no, Rafe didn’t hurt me or anything like what you’re thinking about, chill!”

“Oi!” A voice made you jump in place, and both yours and JJ’s gaze turned to the kitchen entrance where your boss stood, staring down at both of you with a raised brow. “I don’t pay you two to gossip around, get to work!”

“Yes, Raz, sorry!” you said, sending your boss an apologetic wave before turning to the blond. “Whatever you think you heard or saw, erase it from your mind, you understand? I’m serious, JJ. You don’t have to worry, okay?”

You went back to work after that, now under the gaze of not just Rafe – who was still following you with his eyes as he sipped on his drink – but also your cousin’s best friend, who alternated his watchful eye between you and the other man. This was exactly what you needed: just one more thing for you to worry about.

JJ would without a doubt tell John B, who would inevitably – and reasonably, if you were being honest with yourself – want to have a serious talk with you about it. If that happened, you would do what you always did when people got up in your business and shut that down. You loved them for caring about you, but you were as much a damsel in distress as they were your white knights.

But that was a problem for future you. Now you had orders to take and tables to clean and, fortunately, your shift was almost over.

A glance at your watch let you know that you only had to endure another forty minutes of work before you were free to go home and get back to that chapter you had been stuck at for some time.

You worked on autopilot, mind conjuring ideas to add to the plot line of your book as you filled a tray with empty glasses and beer bottles, so unaware of your surroundings that you didn’t even notice him approach.

“Hey, Venus.”

You jumped in place, your heart skipping a beat before you looked over your shoulder at Rafe Cameron, the Kook Prince himself. He was standing a few feet behind you, in some beige shorts and a dark blue polo shirt that clung to his torso just right, arms crossed at his chest. You tried not to think about his muscular arms, knowing damn well how strong he was and how they looked and felt around your naked body.

You quickly averted your eyes to his face, hoping that he would take the faint blush on your cheeks as just a consequence of working outside in the warm weather. He was staring at you with a satisfied little smile on his lips, like scaring you had made his day.

Asshole.

“Hey,” you greeted in a cold tone.

“How’re you doing?”

You took a moment to answer, filling the tray with the last of the glasses before turning to him, the full tray expertly balanced in your hand despite its weight.

“You know what?” you said as you walked by him to make your way inside, smiling to yourself as you heard him follow you; just like you knew he would. “I was having a nice day until I saw you walk in. After that, it got kinda shitty.”

“Bitchy today, aren’t we?” he said to your back, bite in his tone.

“With you? Always.”

“Been thinking about me when you touch yourself at night? Because I have.”

You set the tray on the bar counter with a little more strength than necessary, glasses and bottles clinking dangerously as you started to discard the bottles in the trash. It was, gladly, a slow day and there were no customers inside to hear your and Rafe’s conversation. The last thing you needed was for more people to wonder what was going on between you.

“Pig,” you spat at him.

“What, you don’t think of my cock inside you?” he asked, leaning closer to you. “Of my mouth on your tits? ‘Cause I do. All the fucking time.”

“So go fuck someone and leave me alone.”

“But I want you.”

“If only I cared.” Then you added, almost as an afterthought, “By the way, I’ve been spitting on all your drinks.” You sent him your best customer smile. “If you were wondering why they tasted sweeter..”

A moment passed where you just stared each other down, Rafe clearly annoyed, if the scowl on his face and the way he was sucking on the inside of his cheek was anything to go by. You were no stranger to that expression on his handsome face.

“You can be really fucking annoying, you know that?” he said, brows furrowing as you chuckled.

“That’s rich coming from you,” you retorted in a tone that clearly indicated you were done with the conversation, your boss watching you from outside making you nervous that he would think something of you two. You couldn’t lose this job. “Now, can you leave me alone, some of us actually have to work for a living, you know?”

You could feel his anger emanating from him in waves as you walked away, but you couldn’t care less. He was like a pampered little kid being denied an extra sweet, all pouty and red-faced because mommy wouldn’t give him what he wanted.

Someone had to make him understand that he couldn’t have every little thing his dark little heart desired.

«»«»«»«»«»

“So, are you gonna tell me what actually happened or nah?”

“Oh, my fucking God JJ, I swear to Jesus Chris– You can’t be here!”

It was finally the end of your shift, and you had really thought that your workday had come to an end until you walked into the locker room followed by none other than JJ, who had looked at you throughout the day like he wanted to keep talking about it. But you didn’t want to talk about it, thank you very much. You were more than glad to forget all about it.

But it was obvious that the blond had other ideas. At least he had waited for your coworker Ana to leave the room before getting in.

“Hey, hey, relax okay – no one will know I was here – plus, you can’t blame a guy for worrying. How could I hear about this and not ask you? I hear all kinds of crazy shit about you two all the time, but this one takes the cake.”

“Okay, so you can ask, and I can blame you for being an idiot asking idiot questions,” you said as you changed out of your uniform into a non-sweaty shirt. “Just mind your damn business, it’s as simple as that.” You grimaced at your words, before adding, now in a softer tone, “You got nothing to be freaking out about, okay?”

He sat down on a bench with his back to you as you changed, foot tapping on the floor in what you knew was one of his nervous tics. It almost made you feel bad for worrying him. JJ meant well, and you knew that.

You ruffled his hair as you passed by him to watch yourself in the mirror by the sink, freeing your hair from its ponytail before massaging your scalp with a sigh of contentment.

“So, you’re telling me you’re good… right?” he asked, your eyes locking through the reflection. “All is good?

“All is good,” you repeated with a faint smile at his reflection as you passed your wrists under a cold stream of water.

“John B will freak out when he hears about this.”

“Oh, please,” you grunted, turning off the faucet and crossing your arms as you leaned against the sink. “Like he’s one to talk…”

If your cousin could date Sarah Cameron – a super sweet girl who was nothing like her brother, you would give her that – then you could fuck Rafe Cameron in what was a single occasion of drunk and horny impulsivity.

“What?”

“He won’t freak out because there’s no reason to freak out,” you said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And even if there was – which there isn’t – is none of your business whom I sleep with or not. I’m older than all of you, so who the hell are you to scold me like I’m some little girl?”

“I just think it’s weird, that’s all,” JJ said with a shrug. “After everything he did to you, why would you even – why would he –” he interrupted himself, shaking his head. “Nah, you know what, you’re right, it’s none of my business.”

Was that… bitterness in his eyes? It almost made you throw your hands up in the sky in frustration.

You didn’t need anyone to look at you with anger, judgment, pity, or anything resembling those emotions. You weren’t a scared little girl anymore and Rafe wasn’t the big bad wolf. Your decisions – even if you regretted them – had been your own.

“Don’t you dare look at me like that,” you grumbled in a threatening tone, finger pointed at him as you stepped closer.

JJ didn’t look the smallest bit intimidated as he looked up at you, mouth set in a straight line like he was forcing himself to not say anything else that would upset you. Then, his lips curved into a tight smile, and he stood up with a sigh.

“Well, I gotta go so…” he muttered, nodding at you as he squeezed your shoulder for a quick moment before walking towards the door. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then, yeah?”

“Yeah, you will,” you confirmed with a sigh, accepting the change of subject like it was some kind of truce between you. “Goodbye, JJ.”

«»«»«»«»«»

Walking home after work was like a meditation of sorts. You would put on your earphones, shutting off the world around you before pressing play on your favorite playlist, letting your thoughts wander as you walked the few miles to the home where you lived with your family.

You glanced at your old leather wristwatch, checking the time through its lightly cracked screen. It was a little past six in the afternoon, and the sun would set soon. At this hour, your brother David would probably be sitting at the kitchen table finishing his homework, while little Kevin watched cartoons in the living room and your mother finished cooking dinner, everyone waiting for your arrival so you could enjoy a meal together.

Being home with your family after a tiring day of work was both a pleasant and chaotic experience, but you loved it all the same.

You took a deep breath of the late afternoon air, the nice sea breeze filling your lungs and cooling down your sweaty skin. It made you want to go to the beach; you missed swimming. Surfing had never been your thing, but being in the ocean, moving your body in tune with the currents and the waves, made you feel a special kind of peace. Or used to, anyway. You had barely set foot in salt water since you were fifteen years old.

With a sigh, you ignored the path that led you to the beach and continued walking home.

You were more than halfway there when a strange feeling took over you. It was an all too familiar suspicion; like you were being watched. Taking the earpiece from your right ear, you listened attentively, head slightly tilted. The sound of wheels rolling on gravel and the rumble of a motor made you sure of it:

You were being followed.

With a glance over your shoulder, you saw a black truck, eyes going wide as you halted and fully turned around, recognizing the vehicle.

“So, you’re a stalker now?” you said loud and clear, hands on your hips as you stared down at the driver’s tinted window.

As you expected, the car stopped right beside you, the window sliding down with a smooth electric sound to reveal none other than Rafe Cameron.

Shocking.

“Just wanted to offer you a ride home, that’s all,” he said with a nod at the passenger seat like he was telling you to get in.

He stared at you with a look you couldn’t quite decipher, those blue eyes of his pinning you down like he was challenging you to a fight, to say something that would inevitably escalate – as all your conversations did. Which, being who he was and who you were, was most likely the right interpretation.

“Right,” you said with a pronounced eye roll. “And the best way to do that is following me like you’re some damn kidnapper. What next, should I wait for you to gag me and throw me in the trunk?”

His lips twitched at that, and he averted his eyes with a sniff before looking at you again.

“Don’t be giving me any ideas…”

He said it in a playful tone, but his narrowed gaze could be described as anything but playful. It instantly made you regret your words. It was not that you thought he would actually kidnap you but, when it came to Rafe Cameron, nothing was out of the realm of possibility.

You looked up and down the street, noticing how empty your surroundings looked with no one in sight, either on the road or on the sidewalk. There were houses ahead though, so if he tried something you would make sure to show him how piercing your high notes could be when you felt the need for them.

“Relax,” Rafe said, most likely noticing your tense shoulders and your wandering gaze. “I’m not thinking about doing any kidnapping today.” Today. “Just wanted to give you a ride, that’s all.”

“Yeah sure, like I would fall for that. What do you really want, Rafe?”

The telltale signs that showed his growing irritation manifested themselves in the flush of his cheeks and the furrowing of his blond eyebrows, which always made his blue eyes look darker and threatening. Most people feared Rafe and his temperament, but you were more than desensitized at this point.

“Haven’t I made it clear enough?” he asked in an even tone that clearly didn’t match his emotions.

“As much as I’ve made it clear that I don’t want anything else to do with you.”

You took notice as his hands tightened around the steering wheel.

“And why not?” he asked, almost indignant like he couldn’t possibly understand you and your constant refusal of his request. “I’m not asking you to marry me, just to have fun once in a while. I had a good time, you had a good time… so, what’s really stopping you from saying ‘Yes’?”

“You know what.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, please tell me it’s not–”

“Okay, shut up and listen!” You raised your hand to stop him, feeling your temper get the better of you. “This might be news to you, but you really made my life hell in high school. I was a teenage girl with no friends, going through hell, and you just came out of nowhere to make it all so much worse. Unprovoked! Do you think that’s easy for me to just forget? To throw all those years you hurt me behind my back just because – what – you suddenly realized you want to fuck me? Your feelings about me change nothing when I’ve hated you for so long.” You let out a deep sigh. “And that feeling really hasn’t diminished over the years.”

“You say you hate me, but you still fucked me,” he asked eyes narrowed as he locked under his hard gaze. “So, what does that say about you?”

“It says I make mistakes,” you retorted, shaking your head at his words. “One of my biggest regrets in life, if I’m being honest.”

Hurt flashed in his eyes, his jaw clenching as he averted his gaze, and for a moment you didn’t know if you should feel vindicated or sorrowful. It all mixed in an uncomfortable knot in your stomach.

A moment passed, and you were about to walk away when he spoke again.

“I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”

You scoffed, shaking your head at the simplicity of his words. You knew Rafe was far from stupid, but the way he was being obtuse made you wonder.

“And you think that apologizing like you’re doing changes things? After what you’ve done to me?” you bit your lip, feeling your eyes sting as an unwelcome memory resurfaced. “Do you remember what you did to me when my father died?”

Silence. Rafe said nothing, avoiding your gaze as he stared at his hands, knuckles whitening as his grip on the wheel tightened, the leather scratching under his palms.

“Do you even remember?” you pressed him on, slowly stepping towards the car until you were so close you could touch the door. “Do you remember how cruel you were? My father died, I almost died, and you still thought it was funny to tell me that I was the one who drowned him. That it was all my fault. Your stupid jokes… I almost believed it.”

“That–” He hesitated, glancing at you for a split second before looking away again. “I shouldn’t have– I know I shouldn’t have–”

“But that didn’t stop you, did it?” you asked, voice wavering as you tried not to cry; not in front of him. “You saw me going through the worst chapter in my life, and you still decided to make me miserable. Honestly… I’m not sure who hates each other more, but if your father died I wouldn’t be making jokes about it or blaming you for his death, that’s for sure. When your–” you stopped yourself before you mentioned his mother, avoiding his gaze as his brows raised. A part of you really wanted to hurt him back, but that was not a can of worms you wanted to go near.

You moved away from the car instead, sniffling as you tried to ignore the lump in your throat. You were about to walk away when Rafe called your name, a slight tremor in his voice.

“I’ll make it up to you. Let me–”

“Nah, don’t bother.” You didn’t even turn to him as you started walking away, feeling suddenly more exhausted than you had been ten minutes ago. “I’m not about to take part in your redemption arc just because you feel bad. That’s something between you, God, and a therapist.”

Without another word, you put on your earpiece, turned up the volume of your phone to the max, and pressed play, rushing to get home and forgetting that this conversation ever happened.

«»«»«»«»«»

Part 3 ->

#outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe x you

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medicaregate · 2 years ago

Text

Iron Deficiency Without Anemia

The most prevalent mineral deficiency is iron deficiency, iron deficiency anemia affects 20% of the world's population. Iron deficiency without anemia is even more common.

Anemia is the most well-known consequence of iron deficiency because hemoglobin, a component of red blood cells, contains about 70% of the iron in adults.

Iron deficiency without anemia has been associated with:

Weakness.

Fatigue.

Reduced exercise performance.

Difficulty in concentrating.

Poor work productivity.

Neurocognitive dysfunction including irritability.

Fibromyalgia syndrome.

Restless legs syndrome.

Symptom persistence in patients treated for hypothyroidism.

Poor neurodevelopmental outcomes in infants born to mothers with iron deficiency.

Iron deficiency can occur secondary to: -

Inadequate dietary intake.

Increased requirements (e.g., pregnancy and breastfeeding).

Impaired absorption (e.g., coeliac disease, bariatric surgery).

Blood loss (e.g., menstrual, blood donation, gastrointestinal).

The most precise and sensitive biomarker for determining ID is ferritin, which is a measure of iron stores.

Low ferritin is defined by the WHO as levels below 15 μg/L for adults and <12 μg/L for children.

In clinical practice, ID can be determined when ferritin levels fall below 30 μg/L.

A full blood count may indicate changes in iron status before the onset of anemia by falling values for mean corpuscular volume and mean cell hemoglobin as well as increasing red cell distribution width.

The first-line and safest treatment for symptomatic patients or those who are at risk of developing anemia is oral iron therapy. It is convenient and cost-effective.

Although there are many different types of iron supplements, ferrous salts (fumarate, sulfate, and gluconate) are preferred because they are most readily absorbed.

Read more at: https://medicaregate.com/iron-deficiency-without-anemia/

#Iron Deficiency Without Anemia #Iron Deficiency Without Anemia symptoms #Iron Deficiency Without Anemia diagnosis #Iron Deficiency Without Anemia treatments #Iron Deficiency Without Anemia management #iron #anemia #education #hematology

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mihikavasant · 4 days ago

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Scalloped Tongue or Wavy Tongue - What Is This And How To Treat It?

A scalloped tongue is typically a painless condition where the edges of the tongue develop a wavy or rippled pattern. This distinct appearance, with ridges along the sides, may result from dehydration, sleep issues, anxiety, nutritional deficiencies, and various other factors. While usually not serious, consulting a doctor can help rule out underlying health issues.

Also known as a wavy tongue, rippled tongue, crenated tongue, lingua indentation, or pie crust tongue, a scalloped tongue can provide insights into one's health. This post outlines the causes, diagnosis, and treatment methods for a scalloped tongue.

What Does a Scalloped Tongue Indicate?

A scalloped tongue displays a ridged, scalloped edge along the sides. Although it is generally harmless, it may sometimes signal health concerns like hypothyroidism, genetic conditions, or sleep apnea. A medical evaluation can determine if any underlying issues require attention.

Causes of a Scalloped Tongue

The scalloped pattern on the tongue is often due to pressure from the teeth. Here are the common causes:

Tongue Swelling (Macroglossia) An enlarged tongue may press against the teeth, creating a scalloped appearance. Conditions like hypothyroidism, allergies, and infections can lead to tongue swelling, accompanied by symptoms like hair loss, acne, and low blood pressure.

Bruxism (Teeth Grinding) Grinding or clenching the teeth, especially during sleep, can exert pressure on the tongue, causing it to develop indentations along the edges.

Sleep Apnea Those with sleep apnea may have a larger tongue, which can press against the teeth, creating a scalloped appearance.

Nutritional Deficiencies Deficiencies in vitamins (particularly B vitamins), iron, or magnesium can lead to tongue swelling and scalloping.

Dehydration Dehydration can cause tissue swelling, including in the tongue, leading to scalloping when it presses against the teeth.

Anxiety or Stress Stress can lead to habits like tongue thrusting, where the tongue pushes against the teeth, resulting in scalloping.

Genetics Genetic factors may make some people naturally prone to a larger tongue or other oral features that increase the likelihood of a scalloped tongue.

Diagnosing a Scalloped Tongue

Though a scalloped tongue is often benign, any lasting discomfort or additional symptoms should prompt a visit to a dentist. Proper diagnosis involves identifying the underlying cause, which allows for appropriate treatment and prevents complications. It’s essential to share all symptoms with your healthcare provider.

Treatment Options for a Scalloped Tongue

Treatment for a scalloped tongue depends on its root cause. Here are common causes and their treatments:

Bruxism (Teeth Grinding) Dentists may recommend mouthguards or splints to wear at night, along with stress management techniques like meditation, to reduce grinding.

Sleep Apnea A CPAP (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure) machine or oral devices can be used to keep airways open, which may alleviate pressure on the tongue.

Nutritional Deficiencies Supplements for B vitamins, iron, or magnesium can be beneficial. A balanced diet also supports tongue health.

Dehydration Increasing water intake can reduce tongue swelling and prevent it from pressing against the teeth.

Anxiety or Stress Techniques like deep breathing, therapy, or relaxation exercises can reduce tongue thrusting habits. In some cases, a mouthguard may relieve pressure.

Genetic Factors If a scalloped tongue results from natural anatomy, treatment focuses on symptom management, possibly with specific oral devices for comfort.

When to See a Dentist for a Scalloped Tongue

Consider consulting a dentist if:

The scalloped appearance persists, especially if accompanied by pain.

You experience severe symptoms in addition to a scalloped tongue.

The scalloped tongue doesn’t improve despite staying hydrated or addressing habits like grinding.

A dental consultation can help determine if there is a serious underlying condition or any habits contributing to a scalloped tongue.

Takeaway

A scalloped tongue is often harmless but may sometimes signal other health conditions. Visiting a dentist can help identify any underlying causes and ensure proper treatment. Contact Surya Dental Care for expert diagnosis and treatment for a scalloped tongue.

#Scalloped Tongue #Wavy Tongue

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jamesvince9898 · 11 days ago

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Comprehensive Healthcare Services at Shire Doctors and Dentists: Iron Infusion, Antenatal Care, Dental Implants, and More in Caringbah

Introduction

Welcome to Shire Doctors and Dentists, where we provide comprehensive and compassionate healthcare services in the Shire region, focusing on the unique needs of our patients. Our medical and dental facility in Caringbah offers a wide range of services, including iron infusions, antenatal care, emergency and injury clinics, and advanced dental solutions like implants. Whether you need expert medical attention, routine dental care, or specialized treatments, our dedicated team is here to support you on your journey to health and wellness. Discover why we are the preferred choice for residents in Caringbah and surrounding areas looking for dependable, high-quality healthcare solutions.

Iron Infusion Services Nearby

For individuals suffering from iron deficiency, finding reliable, effective iron infusion therapy nearby can be life-changing. At Shire Doctors and Dentists, we provide iron infusions as a safe and convenient option for those struggling with low iron levels, including patients who haven't responded well to oral iron supplements. Our facility is fully equipped with the latest technology and medical expertise to administer iron infusions that help boost energy levels, improve cognitive function, and enhance overall well-being. This service is delivered by highly trained medical professionals who monitor every aspect of the procedure, ensuring patient safety and comfort throughout.

Iron Infusion in Shire

As a trusted healthcare provider in the Shire, Shire Doctors and Dentists takes pride in offering advanced treatments like iron infusions that are vital for maintaining optimal health. The Shire community now has convenient access to iron infusion therapy administered by skilled practitioners, eliminating the need to travel far for this essential service. Our iron infusion treatments are designed to replenish iron levels swiftly and efficiently, tailored to meet individual health needs and concerns. Our team is committed to providing patient-centered care, making sure you feel informed and comfortable at every step of your treatment.

Caring Antenatal Care in Caringbah

Our antenatal care services in Caringbah are designed to support expecting mothers throughout their pregnancy journey. Shire Doctors and Dentists provides comprehensive care, including routine check-ups, ultrasound referrals, dietary counseling, and health education. Our compassionate approach to antenatal care ensures that mothers and their babies receive the best medical support, fostering a healthy pregnancy and preparation for childbirth. Our experienced medical team collaborates closely with obstetricians and pediatric specialists to offer integrated care tailored to each expectant mother’s needs. When you choose our antenatal services, you're choosing a supportive and knowledgeable healthcare team committed to you and your baby’s health.

Trusted Local Dentist Near Me

For patients seeking a “dentist near me” in Caringbah and surrounding areas, Shire Doctors and Dentists provides a wide range of dental services, from routine cleanings and preventive care to more complex procedures. Our dental team is dedicated to creating a warm and welcoming environment where patients of all ages can feel comfortable. Whether you need a filling, teeth whitening, or a simple check-up, our skilled dentists employ the latest technology and best practices to ensure optimal oral health. Your smile is in expert hands with Shire Doctors and Dentists.

Best Dentist Near Me for Specialized Care

Shire Doctors and Dentists is known as one of the best options for dental care in the Shire region. Our facility is staffed by highly experienced dentists who provide an extensive array of services, including restorative, cosmetic, and preventive dentistry. We are committed to helping you achieve a beautiful, healthy smile, whether it’s through regular cleanings, orthodontics, or periodontal care. Our practice prides itself on a patient-centered approach, taking time to understand each individual’s unique needs and preferences. By choosing our dental team, you're ensuring your oral health is in the hands of professionals who genuinely care about your well-being.

Emergency Clinic in the Shire

Medical emergencies can arise at any time, and having a trusted emergency clinic in the Shire is invaluable. Shire Doctors and Dentists provides a reliable, well-equipped emergency clinic where our skilled medical team is prepared to handle urgent health issues. From sudden illnesses to unexpected injuries, we offer fast, effective treatment to stabilize patients and alleviate pain. Our emergency care services are available to the Shire community, ensuring peace of mind for individuals and families who need immediate medical assistance. With state-of-the-art facilities and a compassionate approach, Shire Doctors and Dentists is here to provide high-quality care during critical moments.

Injury Clinic in the Shire

For patients requiring an injury clinic in the Shire, Shire Doctors and Dentists offers expert treatment for a range of conditions, from minor fractures to soft tissue injuries. Our medical professionals understand the impact injuries can have on daily life, and they work swiftly to diagnose and treat injuries so that you can get back on your feet as soon as possible. With specialized treatment options and rehabilitation support, we make sure our patients receive the care they need to recover fully. Our injury clinic is staffed with experienced practitioners who are equipped to handle various types of injuries, offering comprehensive care to promote healing.

Dental Implants in the Shire

For those considering dental implants in the Shire, Shire Doctors and Dentists is a top choice for this advanced restorative procedure. Dental implants are a long-term solution for individuals with missing or damaged teeth, designed to look, feel, and function like natural teeth. Our dental team provides a thorough consultation to determine if implants are the right option for you, followed by precision treatment planning to ensure optimal results. We understand that each patient’s dental needs are unique, so we customize our implant services to suit individual preferences and expectations. With our expertise and modern technology, we strive to help you achieve a healthy, confident smile that lasts a lifetime.

Comprehensive Dental Services in Caringbah

In addition to implants, our dental team in Caringbah offers a comprehensive suite of services that cater to various dental needs, including cosmetic and preventive care. We believe in the importance of preventive dentistry, helping patients maintain optimal oral health and avoid costly treatments in the future. Whether it’s a simple cleaning or an advanced procedure, we use state-of-the-art equipment and modern techniques to deliver the best possible results. Our dental care services are designed to meet the diverse needs of the Shire community, creating smiles that last a lifetime.

Integrated Health and Wellness Approach

At Shire Doctors and Dentists, we understand that true health goes beyond individual treatments. Our holistic approach to healthcare means we consider all aspects of well-being, from preventive measures to treatment and recovery. By providing both medical and dental services under one roof, we make healthcare more accessible and convenient for the Shire community. Our medical professionals and dentists work collaboratively, offering a continuum of care that addresses each patient’s overall health needs. This integrated model allows us to provide a seamless experience for our patients, making healthcare both effective and efficient.

#Iron infusion nearby #Iron Infusion Shire #antenatal care Caringbah #Dentist near me

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