#reading it makes me feel like i have a fever

[wbbpls]

Bedside Manner

Chapter 1

Word count: 2kish i finally remembered how to write again so idk i hope you guys like this. pls drop some comments and reactions to keep me going!

“Hey, Azzi, we have an incoming bed from the ER. Any chance you can take it on? I think if I have to take one more patient, I might become a patient.”

Azzi smiles softly at her friend Caroline. They went to nursing school together in Connecticut and both recently found their way to Minneapolis. The two bonded over their shared passion for pediatrics, leading them to encourage each other to strive for more. With Minnesota ranking highest in healthcare, they took the chance once Azzi finished school, earning a Doctoral degree in nursing with a focus on pediatric acute care. The two girls moved into an upscale apartment downtown a few months ago and have just now found themselves settled. 

Azzi chuckles softly, “Sure, Car, who should I call for report?”

“Uh, right...”

“Ugh, is it Paige?”

“Yeah...but I’m telling you if you just give her a chance, she’s not all that bad.”

“No thanks, I don’t need to invite arrogance into my life just for fun.” 

“I mean, you could use a little fun,” Caroline mumbled. 

“What was that? You want to take an extra patient?”

“Nope! Love you, byyyyyye.”

She knows that Caroline is probably right. Everyone around here seems to love Paige. She’s only met the beloved girl over the phone for quick reports from the ER to the PICU. She reeks of confidence, sarcasm, and everything made to push Azzi’s buttons. Azzi Fudd worked her ass off to be where she is today, and that doesn’t mean Paige didn’t, but she sure as hell doesn’t act like it with her half assed reports. 

Azzi took a deep breath before grabbing her phone to call Paige. After three rings, she answers.

“Wassup, Fudd, you miss me yet? It’s been a minute.”

Azzi rolled her eyes so hard, she was surprised they rolled back.

“Hi, Paige. Caroline, let me know we have a kid coming from the ER. What’s the eta, and what’s going on?”

“Oooh, straight to business. I like it.”

“Paige, c’mon, I can practically hear you smirking over the phone, and I don’t have time for this.”

“Alright, alright. We got a ten-year-old boy with pretty bad pneumonia. Dude, just wait till you listen to his lungs. I swear it sounds like you’re running back and forth on bubble wrap.”

“Paige, focus.”

“Right, right. He got chest X-rays, but hasn’t gotten those back yet.” 

“And when is he coming?”

“Uh.”

Azzi hears the ding of an elevator and sees a young boy struggling to breathe, being rolled by her.

“Really, Paige? I didn’t even finish getting a room set up yet!”

“Nah, he’s a cool kid, he’ll chill while you set it up.”

“That’s not the point, Paige. We do timely and detailed reports for a reason.”

“Aight, my bad, it’s just crazy down here. Everything is charted perfectly. I’m sorry, Az.”

Azzi purposely ignores the flutter in her chest at the softness in her voice when Paige calls her Az. 

“Ugh, it’s fine. Just don’t do it again. Please.”

Azzi hangs up the phone before Paige can make some snide remark and rushes to get the room ready and meet the boy and his family. 

--------

Once Azzi finishes reading Paige’s chart, which was shockingly well done, she goes to visit her new patient, Frankie. Azzi rubs in her hand sanitizer as she smiles at Frankie’s parents and greets the little boy.

“Hi there, Frankie. My name is Azzi and I’m going to be your nurse. How are we feeling?”

Frankie looks exhausted and coughs before answering, “Not so good.”

“Well, let’s get you settled, see what’s going on, and do our best to help you.”

She begins collecting vitals, starting with his temperature. His fever is at 104.6 degrees with a respiratory rate of 36 and oxygen saturation of 88%. 

Azzi gets him on oxygen right away and continues to ask his parents details about the progression of the sickness. They get him started on antibiotics, Tylenol, steroids, and fluids while continuing to monitor his symptoms. 

A few hours later, Azzi’s shift came to an end, signaling the start of her weekend. Caroline and Azzi have plans to go out tonight with some new friends they met in their apartment building, Sarah and Kaitlyn. She’s been taking overtime shifts nonstop, so Caroline told her she couldn't for the rest of the month and needed at least one night out. That’s how Azzi found herself at a club she didn’t want to be at, taking too many shots. 

At this point, she is definitely past being tipsy and leans her back on the bar counter for support while her friends talk about some guy in their apartment building. She feels someone step next to her, leaning over the bar, asking for a dirty Shirley. 

“Hey, you good?” The mysterious person is now leaning towards her, and Azzi forgets how to speak when she sees stark blue eyes looking down at her. She has blonde hair with a slick back bun, a crop top displaying her abs, and wears cargo jeans and an oversized unbuttoned top. 

“Mhm, I am now.”

The mystery girl smirks, and Azzi’s legs almost give out. Maybe Caroline was right. She really needs to get laid. 

“That so, princess?”

Before Azzi can respond, the bartender comes back with her drink. “Here you go, P. This one's on the house.”

“Aye, thanks, man.”

The mystery girl, or P, moves her attention back to Azzi, taking a sip of her drink. 

“So what’s your name?”

“Well, P, if we’re only doing one letter as our name, then I guess I’m Z.”

“Alright, Z, well if it's gonna be like that, then what do I gotta do to earn the rest of the letters of your name?”

“Hmm, hard to say really. Maybe a drink or a dance?”

“How bout I get you both, mama?”

The girls each take a shot before moving towards the dance floor, quickly finding themselves close to each other. Azzi can’t help but feel a gravitational pull towards P. Azzi steps back into her front, hearing a sigh before feeling strong hands wrap around her waist, pulling her closer. Azzi stars grinding into the blonde girl, wrapping her hand around her neck. 

“Fuck, Z, you’re so sexy.”  

Azzi moans at the raspy voice in her ear, turning towards her face. At this point, it’s like no one else is in the building as they look into each other’s eyes before connecting lips. Azzi hasn’t kissed anyone since she broke up with her boyfriend in Connecticut. Even though it’s been a minute since she’s made out with anyone, she knows for a fact that it never felt like this. 

P moves her hands down Azzi’s waist towards her butt, pulling her in even closer. Their tongues meet, causing both girls to moan at the feeling. All of a sudden, Azzi feels a hand tapping on her shoulder and turns her head towards the feeling only to find a smirking Kaitlyn. P immediately drags her mouth down Azzi’s neck, sucking and biting, making it hard for Azzi to concentrate. 

“W-what?”

“Sorry to interrupt whatever this is, but Caroline is fucked up, we gotta get her outta here.”

“Ugh, fuck, okay.”

Considering that Caroline is the one always trying to get her laid, it's cruel and ironic that she’s also the one cock-blocking her right now. Azzi pulls the girl's head out of her neck, almost forgetting about Caroline’s existence completely at the dazed look on her face. 

“Sorry, P, I gotta go.”

She hasn’t moved her eyes from Azzi’s lips and before leaning in for another kiss says, “No, please stay, I’ll get you home.”

Fuck, this girl is going to be the death of her, but really fuck Caroline and her low alcohol tolerance. Kaitlyn starts pulling hard on Azzi’s arm. “C’mon, Azzi, we really need to go!” 

“Mmm, bye, P.”

Before the blonde girl could process what had just happened, Azzi was running towards the door with her friend. 

“Wait...Azzi?”

-----

Azzi still feels exhausted from their night out the night before and is practically dragging herself through this shift. Her phone rings, making her head echo with the annoying sound.

“Azzi Fudd, how can I help you?”

“Sup, Az. Miss me yet?”

“Ugh, Paige, I really can’t do this today.” 

“Oh, what you had a busy night or somethin’?”

“This isn’t a report, Paige.”

“Hmm, but I want to hear alllllll about it.”

“I’m sure you would.”

Suddenly, a loud alarm goes off in the background from Paige’s side. 

“Shit, I gotta go. I’ll send someone up to report with you.”

Before Azzi could respond, Paige hung up. Soon enough, an ER nurse calls her with a bullshit report on their next patient. 

“That’s all the info you have for me?”

“Sorry, Azzi, that’s all Paige told me, and I haven’t seen the patient, so I probably shouldn’t even be giving you this report.” 

“No, you’re fine. Thank you for trying to get me details.”

Okay, that’s it. I’m done with this girl. Why does she have to make such a simple thing so irritating? Azzi makes her way across the hospital, directly into the ER. She stops at the nurse’s station, determined to find Paige. 

“Hi, I’m PICU and looking for Paige Bueckers. Can you point me in her direction?”

“Uh, I think I just saw her go into room 105. I’m sure she’ll be around.”

“Of course you know where she is,” the other nurse at the station mumbled.

“We’ve only spoken on the phone. What does she look like?”

The two girls at the station stop typing and look at each other, communicating silently. One girl laughs, and the other fans her face with her hand. 

“Oh girl, you’ll know when you see Paige Bueckers.”

“Okay...how?”

“She’s so hot. Like I swear, God personally took time just to make her.”

“Ugh, her blue eyes. I could drown in them.”

“Honestly. She could ruin my life, and I’d thank her.”

“So far, all I know is that she has blue eyes...can one of you maybe give me an HR approved description of her?”

“Right, uh, she’s tall, like really tall. I mean, I guess you’re pretty tall too...but yeah, you’re still probably shorter than her. And she has blonde hair that she always wears in a slicked-back bun.”

“When she smiles at you and you start swooning, you’ll know you found her.”

“Alright, well, thanks, I think. Any chance one of you could message her? I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Gladly! Each time we talk is just another moment closer to us falling in love.”

The nurse sends her a message, acting as if it's a love letter. A minute later, the nurse who thinks she’s in a Disney princess plot has literal heart eyes.

“Hey, ladies, you called?”

Azzi turns at the smooth, warm voice, and her heart stutters. Holy shit. The annoying nurses were right, Paige Bueckers is really fucking hot and exactly who she thinks she is. 

[afroslacks]

Teenage Fever Prologue

Prologue / Chapter 1

You’re sitting across from the empty interview seat with a couple of minutes to spare before your next promo for Creed III. Your nerves have been off ever since that last conversation with Michael—the conversation about the possibility of a romantic relationship.

Reeling, you know you'll have to see him again for the entire press tour. It's only been a month since you last spoke.

Michael’s intense eyes bore into you as you nervously fiddle with your fingers. Your chest flutters, and for a split second, you feel like you might vomit under his gaze.

“I have to get something off my chest that’s been bothering me for a long time,” he confesses, hoping you’ll finally look at him. He knows you were never cruel, but part of him hopes you’ll be brave enough to face both his feelings—and your own.

After a few moments, you reluctantly meet his eyes. Your body temperature spikes, and then, just as quickly, your gaze shifts to the wall behind him, unable to hold eye contact.

“What’s up, Michael?” you squeak, swallowing and taking a deep breath.

He squints, reading through your awkward attempt to downplay the tension.

“Don’t do that,” he says tightly.

You look away again, still avoiding his eyes.

“I’m not doing anything, Michael. Say what you need to say.”

Warm hands gently grab your chin, tilting your face toward his. “You’re pulling away from me, and I haven’t even said anything yet.”

Your eyes roll in frustration. “And you’ve already said enough. I think we should call it a night,” you suggest, pulling away from his grip and getting off the couch.

It’s not that you don’t have feelings for him. You do. But he’s been your friend for years—why mess that up?

Michael smacks his lips and watches you walk away, then follows.

“Are you seriously doing this shit right now?” he asks, towering behind you, disbelief clear in his tone.

You meet his gaze with your best poker face. “I’m not doing anything but telling you this isn’t the time. I don’t want to talk about it.”

You turn toward the door.

“No,” he snaps.

You freeze.

“What do you mean, no?”

Michael’s face is a mess of frustration, love, and longing. “I’m tired of you pulling away from this,” he says, motioning between you both.

Trying to de-escalate, you answer softly, “I’m not pulling away from anything. Michael, you need to calm down. You’re fresh out of a relationship, and you need to be grieving. I’m giving you space.”

He shakes his head, almost like a bratty child. “Don’t play me like I’m some kid. I’m eight years older than you. I know what I’m talking about.” He steps closer, now standing directly in front of you.

Your chest rises sharply in frustration as you try to calm your breathing.

“Michael, we’re friends. You’re the one making it weird and not respecting boundaries. I told you I didn’t want a romantic relationship between us—and you’re trying again.”

He lets out a sarcastic laugh, looking around the living room.

“You’re acting like I wasn’t trying for years. Like I just came out of the blue because I’m lonely or something.”

You try to cut in, but he doesn’t let you.

“I’ve been interested in you for a while. We’ve been doing this confusing shit for years—because you didn’t even give me a chance. We’ve met each other’s families. They see what I see, but it’s like you refuse. Like I’m going to hurt you or something.”

You step back, trying to create space.

“Michael, we’ve been friends. Let’s not mess that up. It’s better this way.” You're trying to protect both of you—but he's not letting go.

His voice cracks. “I’ve tried to be just friends, but it doesn’t work. It doesn’t matter who I’m with—you’re the one I want. I couldn’t even fully commit to Lori because all I’ve wanted was a chance with you.”

Your eyes begin to water at his heartbreaking confession. It hurts to see how deeply this man is yearning. But still…

“I can’t,” you mutter, eyes on the floor.

“You can’t? But you kissed me. You slept with me. Whispered sweet things in my ear... Then you sent me off to Lori and disappeared.”

“We want two different things in a relationship, Michael. We won’t work,” you insist.

“So we work on it,” he shoots back. “We meet in the middle.”

The next argument comes fast. “I’m twenty-eight and you're thirty-six. We’re at two different stages in life.”

He smacks his lips. “I’m gonna need you to be serious. Does it look like I care about that shit?”

The argument loops in your head over and over. That was the last time you spoke—to give each other some much-needed space.

Now, sitting in the chair before your next interview, lost in thought, you hear a familiar voice cut through your reverie.

“Hey.”

From the one person you can’t stop thinking about.

Author’s Note:

This is a prologue/chapter one of my Michael B. Jordan fic. Let me know what you think so far and drop your predictions!

Also—has anyone seen the new Superman movie? 👀

Anyway, enjoy! 💫

[yourlittlebunnyy]

azriel x inexperienced!reader

your (ex) boyfriend is a dick, but hey! at least you figured it out that the only man in your life could only by a certain shadowsinger🎀

tw: smut (nasty but sweeeet), reader ex bf being a disgusting little worm, loss of virginity, piv, oral (f!receiving), mdni! (6.2k)

"I'm sorry- what did you just say?" You ask, your tone extremely accusatory.

You can't believe what you heard, you can't believe that your boyfriend said that, thinking you would just let it slide.

"What do you mean?" He asks with his usual behaviour, always playing the innocent victim. Gods, you don't really know what you're even doing with this male. Losing your time, probably.

"You know damn well what i mean." He relaxes his back on the chair and sighs loudly, other than that- nothing. He looks umbothered, relaxed, even. This makes you even madder.

This is how he wants to play? Giving you the silence treatment until you give up and apologise? Maybe other days it would have worked, but not today, no. Too many times you ignored the signs and begged for his pardon, even tho he was clearly in the wrong. You just procrastinated this conversation for too long.

"I pretend an explanation. I swear-" His laugh interrupts you. It's not really a laugh, tho. It doesn't hold any fun or warmth in it. He's just playing with you. But you're tired of being a little toy, manipulated by a man you don't even love.

"It's not that difficult, babe." The nickname gets you a bitter taste on your tongue. You scoff, but he goes on undisturbed. "All you need to know is that males have instincts. Needs. Desires." You know where this conversation is going.

Even tho you don't love this man, not anymore, at least, tears still wet your lashes, streaming down your cheeks. You ask yourself what you have done wrong, how something like this could have happened. You've been nothing but a supportive girlfriend, always by his side. Defending him even when your family didn't approve him. It was always you and him against the world.

"You think men will get on their knees for you." This time, it's his turn to scoff. You swallow a painful knot at the base of your throat. You hate yourself for showing your vulnerable side in front of him while he doesn't look bothered at all. You hate him, too. "You like to think you live in those silly fairy tale books you read." A dark laugh echoes in the room. You have to cover your mouth, hiccups threatening to escape your lips.

"Let me get this for you, babe. We are not in a fucking book. This is real life. Men are not princes, you are not a fucking princess." He suddenly gets up. The chair scratches on the floor making a squeaking noise that makes you squeeze your eyes shut. He walks closer to you, mocking eyes look deep into yours.

"I- I don't understand..." Is all you can say, your confusion is genuine. You have been nothing but loyal to him. You have pretended nothing but loyalty. He smirks, stepping closer and closer until he stands in front of you.

You're so close you can feel his accelerated breath on your face. Your lower lip trembles, and you know it's not a good sign. Whatever you said only seem to madden him more.

"Stupid. Dumb little-" He stops, taking a deep breath. He's trying to hold back, you realise. "I have needs and you can't fucking satisfie them, do you understand now?" Except that you don't.

You shake your head. It's the wrong thing to do. It's the straw that breaks the camel's back. With a violent movement that you couldn't foresee, he pushes you until you touch the wall. Your head hits the solid surface with a hard thud, making you moan in pain. The smell of fear deepens in the room.

"You don't give me what I want? I take it somewhere else. You think you're worth the wait? Let me tell you, babe. You are not. You're just as every other Fae with a pussy between their legs. Understood?" You can't hold back a sob. This feels like a fever dream, and for a moment, you don't believe this is really happening. But it is. What you really can't believe is that you have been so blind you haven't seen who he really is.

"Because of... sex?" You whisper. Gods, if you weren't in this position, you would have laughed.

"Yes, because of sex!" He shouts straight into your face, he grips your cheeks with in hand, the hold painful to the point he leaves red marks on your skin. "Females exist only for one fucking thing. And you're not giving it to me."

"Let me go!" You cry out, protesting with your body, trying to escape from his strict hold. "Please... I don't know who you are anymore..."

He laughs cruelly, his eyes darkened, completely different to the ones you're used to. He puts his hands in his pockets, standing in front of you casually. Like he didn't just scream at your face those things. Like you're not sobbing in front of him, the one who is supposed to care for you, to love you. He turns around, walking out of the room as if nothing had happened, but you're too busy holding your face, still shaken by his violence, to notice.

After a few minutes you manage to calm down even the slightest bit, you are not sobbing anymore, even tho there are still tears wetting your marked cheeks. You follow his route. He must have exited the house because he is not in the kitchen, the only room connected by the door you just passed.

It's not empty, tho. A figure sits on the table, sipping coffee in a mug that looks extremely bitter. You recognise him almost instantly, his big wings too familiar to ignore.

"Hey." He must have heard you enter the room. He turns around, his voice soft and his eyes brightened by a smile. When he sees your tears and your red cheeks, it drops immediately. "What has he done."

It's not a question, you realise. He is mad, but not at you.

Never at you.

"Azriel..." It's the only thing you can manage to say, your voice trembling and broken.

It's a matter of istants: his arms are wrapped around your body tightly, supporting your body as you let go into a liberating cry.

You have no idea how long you stay like this, it could have been minutes or hours. He doesn't let you go even for an instant, and you find comfort in his warmth, in his familiar scent that wraps around you like a soft blanket.

"I always knew he was a dick." He declares, his words muffled in your hair.

You shake your head, at least you try, blocked by his chest. "Don't wanna talk about this right now." You explain, your voice still hoarse from the cries.

"It's okay." He whispers. "We don't have to." A smile appears on your face, a deep contrast with the tears that still wet your cheeks.

Only now you dare to detach yourself from the embrace. Your eyes seek his in almost a natural manner. "Az?" You ask.

"Yes?"

You know this is a bad idea, but you don't care at the moment. You feel your cheeks burning, you look at the floor, momentarily incapable of holding eye contact. "I need your help with something."

He poses a gentle hand on your face, forcing you to look at him. His voice is soft when he speaks, a tone that he reserves for you only. "Anything."

"He said that I'm not worth the wait." You start to explain. Azriel doesn't seem to understand the direction this conversation is taking, his eyebrows raised in a silent request to explain yourself further. "Like sex, you know?" You can only imagine how flustered you must look by the chuckle he lets out.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you, sunshine. I'm laughing because he is such a dick." His thumb moves on your skin, a caress light as a feather. "So what favour do you need?"

"I..." You swallow loudly. "Can you teach me? Please?"

For a moment, he seems out of breath, surprised beyond words. It doesn't last long, and he quickly recollect himself. You almost fear another laugh, or judgement. Instead, when you look into his eyes, the only thing you find is reassurance.

"Teach you... how to have sex?" He asks, and you can't answer, still embarrassed.  You only nod, not knowing what you want anymore, at this point. But you trust this man in front of you, and if there's something you know for sure, is that he won't let you down on a moment like this. "Y/n... you don't really want this."

"No, that's not true." You complain. Your teeth capture your lower lip, a gesture you tend to do often when you're nervous.

"But it is. You're asking just because of that bastard, you don't really wanna have sex. Especially with me."

"No, it's not, Az." You take a deep breath. "If there's someone that i want to..." You struggle to find the words. "I trust you with all of myself. I want you to do it."

He forces himself to take a breath, considering his options as it gets past his lips, then a little nod makes you smile kindly. He moves a hand, the one that was firstly on your cheek, and he interlocks his fingers with yours. "Okay." He gives in. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." His shadows cover the both of you, until everything around you is black. In some way, it stills effect you, even if you already did it a million of times. When you see light again, it's because of the big window in his room. You stagger, but he is ready to stabilise you. He is used to do it, the gesture comes in a natural way.

A silent tension lingers in the air, your cheeks still burn from the embarrassment. "What do I do?" You ask, unsure. You balance yourself on your feet, your lower lip bleeds from the force of your teeth biting into it. The metallic smell of blood fills the room, mixing with his scent.

He gets even closer, towering over you. Your body surprise you - his presence and his closeness affect you, yes, but in a good way. Like you want him near you, you want him to touch you. With one hand he moves a lock of hair behind your ear. He looks at you in a way that makes you feel like the only woman in Prythian. Makes you feel seen for the first time in your life. 

"You don't need to be nervous, sunshine." He whispers so close to you that his breath warms your face. You hadn't realised he was this close until now. With his thumb, in a gentle way, he frees your lip from the painful grip of your teeth. It's a fingertip touch, really, but it makes your heart race, suddenly too aware of his closeness, all your senses heightened.

"Okay." You whisper back. He continues to caress the skin of your face with his thumb, so softly you can barely feel it. Then, when you thought he was gonna put some distance between the two of you, a kiss. It's nothing you haven't done before, and it's not a difficult kiss, too. It's slow and naive, a little appetiser  before the real meal, but it still leaves you breathless.

Even when you broke away from the kiss, lips swollen and cheeks reddened for the both of you, his eyes never left yours. And you can see every single thought behind those beautiful hazel pupils, you can see how is soft gaze turns into something more raw, carnal. You recognise that look that you often saw in your boyfriend's eyes too, but at the same time, is so different.

Azriel's hold affection, warmth, they make you feel wanted and desired in the best way. His were just... lust. Carnal, yes, but there was nothing more than that.

"Are you-" You chuckle, your nerves finally calming.

"Az, if you ask me one more time that, you won't like what I'll do." Your answer causes a smile to spread all over his face, making him look ethereal. Why the hell have you never noticed the beauty of this male before?

"Lay on the bed, then." You nod, following his orders. He position himself right on top of you, putting his weight on his elbows, avoiding to hurt you. Your noses are almost touching, and this time, you kiss him first. You didn't think twice, with him everything comes natural. It starts innocently as some moments ago, but it quickly turns more heated.

He licks your lower lip, asking a silent question. A permission, perhaps. And you give it to him. His tongue meets yours in a slow, heated dance that taste just right.

"Hello there." He whispers once you break the kiss, short for air. His voice is muffled by the skin of your collarbone, his face hidden in it. "Hi, Azzie."

You can feel his smile on your skin, you're ready to giggle, a sudden happiness taking over you. But Azriel starts to kiss your neck, and the only sound that escapes your lips is a gasp. His kisses are slow and warm, he starts with your neck, then your exposed collarbone, and he goes lower and lower until he meets the fabric of your dress. At this point, you're not sure you are breathing anymore.

He looks at you in another silent question. You nod without hesitation. His hands are gentle as he pull down the little strap, taking is time and his lips never leaving your skin. It's only a matter of minutes and your chest is quickly exposed for his eyes. Your hands try to cover your body, but he doesn't let you.

"No need to cover, sunshine." His eyes wonder on your skin, leaving you on fire. He poses a kiss where your heart belongs. "You're so pretty. My pretty girl." He murmurs against your skin, his breath tickles you, giving you goosebumps . "He never deserved you anyway. Can i touch you, love?”

You nod so quickly that it makes your head spin.

His hands starts to caress you, is thumb grazes your nipple, making you moan. You almost feel ashamed, the sound tastes sinful on your lips, but his smile reassures you.

The more he does, the more you can feel the tension leaving your body, your muscles relaxing and your mind emptying. He focus on your breasts, his lips wrapping around a nipple, flicking around it with his tongue. The feeling is unmatched, you never felt like this before.

With his hand, he plays with your other nipple, feeling the skin under his fingertips in a motion that leaves you addicted, craving for more.

The feeling between your legs intensifies, you can feel yourself growing needier. His lips leave your nipple with a pop, making you groan frustrated. His chuckle caresses your skin, making you shiver.

There's a knot, as quiet as powerful as painful, that starts to tighten at the base of your stomach. Your desire starts to pool deeper inside of you, sliding slowly and deliciously like honey against your skin.

You can feel it in the air how much both of you want, need, this. You can feel it in the change of your scents. He smells muskier, now. More manly, more him.

"Don't worry, you're going to like this a lot more." You're almost confused. Your head spinning with desire makes it hard for you to think coherently, but he doesn't need words for what he's going to do.

His lips lower, tracing a path all over you stomach, until he arrives between your legs. Your breath catches in your throat, your back naturally arching, your hips bucking towards his lips. "Already so needy, aren't you?" He chuckles, and his breath tickles your center, making you moan.

You quickly cover your mouth with your hand, embarrassed with the way you're already so excited, and he didn't do even that much. "Nuh-uh, sunshine."

He looks up at you, your eyes meeting and for a moment you forget everything else. You forget your shitty ex, you forget the feeling of your cheeks burning from both desire and embarrassment.

"No need to." He explains, the tip of his nose brushes your lower stomach in a gentle gesture that makes you smile. "I wanna hear you, pretty girl."

You nod almost immediately. Following his orders feels natural to you, and you certainly won't complain. "Okay." You let out and before you can say anything else, his tongue lick your bundle of nerves and you forget everything again.

The feeling is unlike anything you have ever experienced before, and the moment his eyes meet yours, looking at you from half-closed eyelids with dilated hazel pupils, you know that there will never be anyone else for you.

Only him.

You can't describe what his tongue does between your thighs. He licks, bites, sucks. He touches your soul, makes you wrap your legs around his head every time his teeth graze your clitoris and make you moan louder and louder.

"Fuck." He pulls away from your center for a few moments, but his eyes never leave you. "You taste even better than I ever imagined."

His lips are pink, swollen, and glistening with your juices. When he notices your gaze on them, he runs his tongue over them, collecting the liquid in a gesture that makes you squeeze your gummy walls around nothing.

A frustrated moan escapes your lips, but before the breath can finish passing through them, his tongue returns to stimulate your most intimate area, making you scream.

He forces you to stay still with his hands clenched around your thighs in a grip so firm it's almost painful, digging his nails into your flesh, but the sensation adds to that knot in your stomach and tightens it even more.

You want to scream with pleasure.

Scream at yourself for depriving yourself of this, of him, for so long.

But he slides one hand away from your thigh, depriving you of that delicious pain, and before you can complain again with a drawn-out moan, he slips it between your legs, teasing your entrance, which spasms involuntarily around nothing.

You've never wanted anyone to touch you so much in your entire life. You've never burned so much.

His fingers collect your wetness, playing with you and teasing you while you can do nothing but moan uncontrollably and thrust your hips against his face, silently begging for more. It never seems enough, but how could it be when his tongue is devouring you as if you were his last meal?

"Look at yourself, Y/n." You can't, though. Your eyes roll back, no longer able to hold his gaze as he eats you with slow movements, a sweet torture that you soon know you won't be able to resist. "He would never have made you feel this way."

"Only you." You barely whimper. "It's always been you."

"Fuck, yes." He murmurs.

For the brief moment when his lips let you breathe, he brings his fingers to your clit, teasing it with circular, precise movements until you throw your head back and beg for something you don't even know yourself.

"Please..."

"Please, what, sweet girl?" He laughs. Slowly, and his laughter runs through your limbs like soft velvet, a caress that slips under your skin, between the flesh of your ribs. "Use your words, sunshine. I know you can do it."

Just like that, he dives back into your intimacy, but this time his tongue caresses your entrance, tracing its outline before slipping inside and sucking.

The sounds your wetness and your throat make are pure sin. The smell that fills the room - sex and pleasure - floods your nostrils and makes you arch your back so much that you can overcome the iron grip of his hands and push your hips against his face, pressing yourself against him in the dirtiest way you could ever imagine.

"I- I don't... I don't know."

It's the truth.

Pleasure has always been a foreign concept to you, and receiving so much of it all at once empties your mind, leaving you incapable of rational thought.

And the way his thumb and tongue move doesn't help.

"You want to cum?" he asks.

Your hands, which until now had been clinging to the blankets as if they were your lifeline, slide toward him, slipping between the soft, tousled strands of his hair.

You nod, biting your lip to stifle a small cry as he bites your inner thigh with his teeth. You're sure that tomorrow morning there will be a mark left by his teeth, but for some reason, the thought turns you on even more.

Knowing that you have such a vivid and physical reminder of this moment with you almost throws you into the peak of your orgasm, but it's not enough.

"Use your words," he orders.

You feel your cheeks burning as you clench your fingers around his hair in a silent plea to stop talking and go back to fucking you with his tongue.

"I- I want... it." You whisper, the words mingling with his heavy breathing and your desperate moans.

"What do you want, sweet girl?"

His thumb continues relentlessly, and there you are. You're one step away from falling into that oblivion that you can barely name, but that your body craves so desperately that you can't help but listen to it and follow your instincts.

"I..." His thumb circles, pressing against your little button with more force than expected. "Azzie..."

"Say it," he demands.

"I- I want to cum." You beg. "Please, Azzie. Make me cum."

And he does.

He throws his head between your legs and drinks your juices, his tongue moving rapidly - too fast for the first time your body has ever experienced an orgasm - but your muscles welcome him and you arch your back so much it hurts, but you don't care. There is only him.

"Yes." He sounds breathless. Completely lost in you. "Good girl. My girl is a good fucking girl."

"Azzie..." You moan. And you moan again, and again, and again. His name is the only word that sounds right on your lips right now.

"You'll get me fucking addicted, sweet girl, you know that?" He mutters, more for himself than for you, you think. Then he chuckles. "You won't go back to him, he wouldn't make you feel this way, anyway. You're mine, now, fuck."

"Please..." You can only pray. "Please... Azzie, don't stop. Please."

"Don't worry, sweet girl. I will take care of you."

Only now do you notice that he's moving his hips in time with his movements. Only now do you notice how his cock, constricted by his pants, rubs against the mattress, as desperate as you are for friction, for release from that tension.

That's enough.

The realization that he's pleasuring himself while fucking you with his tongue is enough to make you come.

And you've never felt anything like it. The knot in your stomach breaks.

The orgasm leaves you breathless. It hits you without warning. All it took was one unexpected movement from Azriel, and your walls began to tighten around his tongue and your clitoris began to throb under his thumb.

If you had control of yourself, of your mind, perhaps you would now be embarrassed by the sound of his tongue fucking you, by the screams escaping your throat, by the way your fingers find purchase in his hair.

You can't react, you don't have time. You spread your legs, pull his hair, and lose all awareness of everything. Of time, of the space you're in.

There is only you, your pleasure, the male between your legs who continues to torture you as if he hadn't just made you see stars.

When you snap back to reality, Azriel is still devouring you as if he wants to eat you whole, but he does it slowly, gently. As if it were an apology for the way he catapulted you into the unknown territory of ecstasy.

"Are you okay?" he asks you. His voice is so low, so hoarse, that it sounds like a growl. He leaves a sweet kiss on the inside of your thigh, where just before he had bitten you with such violence that it made your insides clench with excited anticipation.

A few seconds pass in which the only sound you hear is your heavy breathing. When you open your eyes again, the first thing you see is him.

You lift yourself up on your elbows, letting go of his hair and placing your hands on your stomach, which is rising and falling at an unbearable pace.

"I... I never... felt this... way." You manage to get out. But nothing more than that.

"I know." He's sweet. He climbs up your legs and you admire his rosy cheeks, his lips so red they look bitten, glistening with your juices. His eyes still hide that glint of desire, and suddenly the knot in your stomach tightens again, and this time it's even more painful. "Are you okay?"

It's not enough for you. You want more. You want him.

Your boyfriend is now such a distant memory that you call yourself stupid for even thinking of giving yourself to that man without first looking - really looking - at the man in front of you, who seems as destroyed as you are, and hasn't even been touched. He hasn't even taken off his clothes.

"Again."

"Again?"

You nod. You bite your lower lip, looking at the pillow under your head rather than his eyes. Your cheeks burn for whatever made you say such a thing out loud, and the weight of his gaze is impossible to bear, especially when his lips curve into a lazy smile that makes you throb between your legs - again.

"Want more."

"What did I say about using your words?"

You feel your cheeks burn, and you know you're blushing under the eyes—and body—of the male above you, who looks at you full of expectation and with pupils dilated with lust.

"I know, it's just..." You turn your head to the side, avoiding eye contact. "I don't even know what I... want."

"Y/n." He breathes. "Look at me, love."

He moves two fingers to your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

"What you did to me." You begin. "It was... good. Your comment makes Azriel chuckle. "I want it to be good for you too."

Azriel could feel his heart tighten at your words. He could. And he did.

But the feeling is accompanied by his cock throbbing against the fabric of his pants, his mind already wandering to you, to the way you're so small and embarrassed, and your first thought is still to give him pleasure.

He has to restrain himself. He has to physically clench his fingers on your bare hips, squeezing your skin, otherwise he would have maneuvered you like a doll and put you on your knees, your mouth full of his cock.

"Tonight is not about me." He traces a series of imaginary lines on your stomach, making you jump with the tickling mixed with the heat that builds up in your belly. "I want you to feel good, feel like you never did."

"You already did." You complain.

"Then let me do it again."

His shadows act in a matter of moments. His clothes disappear, leaving him naked in front of you.

You don't know where to look. Your eyes run over his skin, and he can feel them on him as if they were burning against him, as if they were trying to brand him in your mind.

You blush so much that your cheeks feel like they're on fire. Your gaze moves from his face to his chest, to his abdominal muscles, and finally to the area between his legs, where his erection is hard and throbbing against his stomach, the tip already slightly moist with precum.

You don't even know what's going to happen now, but your body seems to know better than you do.

"Azzie... It's... b-big." You widen your eyes.

"You don't have to be frightened. He reassures you, seeing the way you seem to pull back slightly. He has to suppress the sense of pride that explodes in his chest at your reaction. "Are you still sure you want this?"

You nod with almost frightening determination.

"Yes, please, Azzie."

He kisses you. His tongue meets yours and begins to explore your mouth, while his hands caress you everywhere. From your hips to your breasts to between your legs.

"Will it hurt?" You whisper on his lips, once the kiss is interrupted by your moan when his fingers brush your clitoris, making you rotate your hips for more.

Azriel doesn't feel like lying to you. He could never lie to a face like yours, looking up at him with wide eyes glistening with desire. "A bit."

"Do you promise you'll be gentle?"

Your concern is almost sweet. "I promise, love. I want it to be as pleasant as possible for you."

"And will you enjoy it?"

Azriel raises his lips at your umpteenth question. "Probably more than I should, pretty girl."

With one last kiss on your lips, he lifts himself up, sliding himself better between your legs and making sure your feet are crossed behind his back. With one hand, he grabs his almost angry-looking erection, perhaps a little arrogant, even, and for the first time slips it between the folds of your legs, without entering you.

The contact makes you both moan, and hearing him whisper your name in a hoarse voice has a decidedly intoxicating effect on you. You feel the wetness increase, spreading over your inner thighs and gathering at your entrance, where the tip of Azriel's cock teases you, never crossing that line you fear so much.

"So good..." you murmur when you feel him against your clit with a thrust of his hips.

Azriel has to fight the urge to roll his eyes back in his head at your moans and the way you chant his name under your breath as if it were a prayer. He also has to restrain himself from cumming like that, without even really fucking you, and painting your stomach and pussy white, marking you with his cum.

Without warning, he pushes his cock inside, stretching your walls so much that it feels like he's tearing you apart. "Are you okay?" He breathes against your lips.

He starts a trail from your face, down your jaw, to your neck, leaving wet, calm kisses to distract you.

"Hurts a bit." You whimper, trying to hide your face in his chest, but failing miserably, especially when he leans down again to take a nipple between his lips and suck, making you moan.

It takes a couple of minutes for the pain to turn into pleasure and the burning sensation to subside. Azriel hasn't moved an inch, but now you're becoming aware of every millimeter of him inside you. You can feel him in your stomach, you can feel every vein, every time it pulses.

You push your hips against his, bringing your bodies so close together that your clitoris touches the light fuzz above his cock, making your head spin for the millionth time. You're too embarrassed to ask him to move, but your movement speaks louder than a thousand words.

He starts to thrust slowly.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. Every time he pulls out until only the tip remains inside you, then pushes back into your wet, warm walls, a whispered curse escapes his lips, making you clench painfully around him. "Fuck, love. Keep clenching around me like that and—fuck..."

"Azzie..." You can't help but moan as he fucks you as if it were the only way to stay alive. "So good..." You whimper. "So big..."

"Y/n." He whimpers, his teeth gritted so much that it probably hurts. But Azriel's mind can only focus on how tight you are, on how much your walls are trying to milk him for all he's worth. It's embarrassing, really, how quickly he's sure he can cum.

His hands grip you everywhere in a desperate attempt to distract himself, your ankles lacing behind his back, pulling him even closer.

Every time he pulls out of your body, you whimper, saddened by the loss of the fullness his cock offers you, and then he pushes into you again, slamming his hips against your center. It's all too much, but at the same time, it's not enough. Your hands dig into his back, chest, arms. They search for something to hold on to as pleasure mixes with the pain caused by the force of his thrusts, and Azriel can see in your face how drunk you are on his cock.

He knows he should stop, slow down, take a deep breath, and start again more calmly. That this is your first time and you trusted him enough to give it to him, he find it sweet, really. But then you look at him through misty eyes, empty of thought behind your dilated pupils, and your lips part to let out the sound of his name, and then his hands grab your hips, squeezing until you moan, and he supports you as he fucks you with even more vigor.

He knows you're close. You feel it too.

Your walls are throbbing so hard that you're sure they've taken the shape of his cock. Every vein, every curve, is imprinted inside you. You feel the familiar knot in your stomach tighten, the tension increasing so much that it hurts.

"Azzie, I'm..." Your words are slurred, without coherent form. "Please, Azzie..."

You are so full of him that you feel the tip of his cock touching your stomach. You see it. The way your belly bulges when he enters you, the way his eyes don't know whether to look into your eyes, to look at your tits bouncing with the force of his thrusts, to look at your pussy as he fucks you.

"Fuck, love, look at—look at that." He's out of breath from the effort of restraining himself from turning you around and taking you from behind, coloring your back with white spurts. He runs a hand through your hair, pulling it back to angle your view toward your belly. He brings his other hand to your stomach, pressing where his cock bulges.

"Azzie, I'm..." You mumble. "So full."

"I'm gonna cum, Y/n." He warns you. His thrusts become more sudden, less rhythmic. Sloppy, even. His body collapses on top of yours and his pubic bone teases your clit.

You're close too, and he knows it.

"Together," you beg.

You make him smile against your neck as he bites your skin and then kisses it, as if to make amends.

"Sweet, sweet girl," he murmurs, still pressed against your skin. You feel his warm breath breaking against your collarbones. "You wanna cum with me?"

"Mhmm, yes, Azzie." Not only do you sound desperate, but your voice breaks just as you reach orgasm.

Your walls spasm around him as he growls at you, shifting his attention to your tits, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking it, helping you ride the wave of pleasure. Moments later, it's his turn.

He cums with your name on his lips, his voice hoarse and broken just like yours. You're still riding the aftershocks of your orgasm, your pussy still throbbing against him as he makes sure all his cum goes inside you, into your womb.

Silent moments pass. Only your heavy breathing breaks the peaceful silence.

"Are you okay?" Azriel asks you.

You almost feel like laughing. Okay is an understatement. So, instead of telling him how you feel, you let him feel it. You grind your hips against his, his cock still buried deep inside you, and you feel his cum spill out of you and stain your inner thigh, but you couldn't care less. Not while you feel that knot forming again, and the desire to experience the inexplicable sensations Azriel made you feel returns.

"More?" you plea.

Azriel chuckles, the sound hot and deep at the same time, so much that it carves into your flesh. "Oh, love. You have no idea what you have just started."

azriel masterlist - main masterlist

A/n: hello beautiful ladies, I just wanted to hop here and say that english is not my first language and that I wrote this literally in two hours, so please be gentle and sorry if you’ll find any mistakes🙏

[blaysreid]

THROUGH SICKNESS AND HEALTH

pairing = sick!spencer + fem!reader

summary = When Spencer comes down with a cold, it’s your turn to return the care he once gave you. Complete with tea, forehead kisses, and way too many blankets. Sick days have never felt so sweet.

part one

The first sign something was wrong wasn’t the sneezing, it was the silence.

Reid, who usually filled the apartment with quiet ramblings about neurochemistry or obscure literary facts while making tea, was dead silent when you came in. No books open, no kettle whistling, no mumbled monologue about the philosophical implications of Edgar Allan Poe.

Just a lump under a blanket on the couch, hair poking out, sniffling quietly. A very pitiful, very sick genius lump.

“Spence?” you said softly, already toeing your shoes off, the worry tightening in your chest.

A groan came from under the blanket. “Mm… do not approach. Quarantine advised. I may be contagious.”

You stifled a laugh as you padded over. “Too late. I’ve already breathed your air. What’s going on, Dr. Reid? You dying?”

A mop of sweaty curls and flushed cheeks peeked out. “The likelihood is low. Statistically, the common cold lasts seven to ten days, and I’m currently on day three. But the subjective misery index is a ten out of ten.”

“Poor baby,” you said, already kneeling beside the couch, brushing damp hair off his forehead. “You’ve got a fever.”

He leaned into your touch like it was the first good thing that had happened to him all week. “101.2. I checked. Multiple times. To be sure. Also, I charted the progression. Want to see?”

You smiled. “Let’s skip the fever graph for now. Have you eaten?”

“No. Food is… unappealing. Even applesauce.”

You gasped. “That’s how I know it’s serious.”

Reid gave a weak nod. “Precisely.”

You pulled the blanket down a bit and kissed his warm forehead. “Alright, Dr. Doom, scoot over. I’m making tea and soup. And then we’re watching old movies and you’re going to let me take care of you.”

He blinked slowly, lashes heavy. “This feels like déjà vu.”

You tilted your head. “Hmm?”

He coughed once into the blanket, then sniffled. “When you had the flu three months ago. I brought you mint tea and read The Secret Garden out loud while you were half conscious.”

You chuckled. “You did. You gave me a lecture on how fever dreams affect REM sleep.”

“I just wanted to help,” he said, voice rough and quieter now, like he might fall asleep mid-sentence. “I hated seeing you miserable.”

You leaned down and pressed your lips gently to his. “Well, now it’s your turn. I’m gonna pamper the hell out of you.”

“Statistically, TLC improves recovery by at least thirty percent,” he mumbled.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Especially when kisses are involved.”

You gave him three quick kisses. One on each cheek and one on the nose.

He smiled, all soft and sleepy and full of love. “I might milk this a little.”

“You’d better.”

As you got up to make soup, Reid sank deeper into the blanket, murmuring something about oxytocin levels and immune response. But you caught his last sleepy words before they faded into sniffly silence.

“You’re my favorite medicine.”

Reid dozed on the couch while you moved around the kitchen, the quiet rustle of pots and the soft click of the stove filling the warm apartment. You’d managed to coax him into taking some medicine and now he was swaddled like a sleepy burrito, occasionally sniffling or mumbling something about “circadian rhythm disruptions.”

You stirred the soup and peeked over the counter. His head was turned slightly to the side, lips parted just a bit, lashes resting against the tops of flushed cheeks. You didn’t think it was possible for someone to look both miserable and adorable at the same time, but here he was.

You tiptoed over with the tea first- chamomile, because you remembered what he made you drink when you were too congested to breathe properly. Back then, he sat on the edge of your bed and explained how “apigenin in chamomile binds to GABA receptors in the brain, producing a calming effect,” and then you passed out to the sound of his voice like it was the most soothing thing in the world.

Now it was your turn.

“Spence,” you whispered, nudging his shoulder gently.

His eyes blinked open, slow and confused. “Am I hallucinating, or do I smell honey?”

You grinned and sat next to him. “Not hallucinating. It’s in the tea. Chamomile with a little lemon and a lot of love.”

He blinked again. “That’s… incredibly sweet. From a flavor and romantic perspective.”

You held the mug for him as he took a careful sip. “See? No poison. Just TLC.”

“Mmm.” He leaned his head against your shoulder once he’d finished, eyes fluttering shut again. “You’re too good to me.”

“You read me The Secret Garden when I was dripping sweat and delusional,” you said, brushing his hair back again. “This is nothing.”

“I also changed your sheets and put your hair up because you were too weak to lift your arms,” he mumbled proudly.

“You did. And I cried and said you were the love of my life.”

“You were also high on cold medicine.”

“Still true.”

He smiled, leaning closer into you like your presence physically soothed him. After a moment, he murmured, “Did you know… physical affection during illness can reduce cortisol levels significantly? Which boosts immune function. And oxytocin helps regulate body temperature.”

“Really?” you said, feigning surprise. “So you’re saying I have to cuddle you? For scientific reasons?”

“For science,” he nodded seriously, voice all croaky and stuffy.

“Well, I’d never argue with science.”

You guided him into your arms, his body warm and heavy against yours, legs tangled with the blanket and arms sloppily winding around your waist. His head tucked beneath your chin, curls tickling your neck.

“You smell like VapoRub,” you whispered into his hair.

“You smell like soup,” he mumbled back.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He grunted in sleepy agreement. “I hypothesize that you love me.”

You smiled, pressing kiss after kiss into his curls, cheeks, and temple.

“Hypothesis confirmed.”

masterlist

TAG = @summerobertsvariant @book-nerd-fan-girl @tokalotashiz

[miharaikko]

Fic Pride Tag Game

Thank you to @suseagull5914 @anincompletelist @alasse9 and @theprinceandagcd for the tags.

Rules: list and link the top ten fanfictions/series you’ve written that you are most proud of x

Pearlescence (series) | E | 10 K my first ever fic and it's anniversary sequel, one sweet and innocent and the other smutty as hell 🙈

Alex sees Henry across the dance floor and is mesmerised by his ivory skin and the pearl top he is wearing. & Henry gifts Alex a pearl necklace...or two.

other 9 + the tags below the cut 💕

Love will abide (take things in stride) | E | 15 K my first tiny multichapter and my first smut scene. it's my second fic and i never thought i'd write more than one

Henry should be getting married tomorrow. Instead, he's at a pub, considering if he should go back to the hotel of a man he just met.

waging my wars behind my face and above my throat | M | 3 K based on my favourite Twenty one pilots song, it's a story very dear to my hear and although it screams angst and sadness, I only see hope in it.

Henry is dealing with one of his dark days and Alex helps him through it

touch my phone (as if it’s your face) | GA | 5 K wrote as a bday gift for lovely @theprinceandagcd and i had so much fun learning to code it (except for the 5 minutes when i deleted my A03 skin and wanted to kms)

Alex texts the wrong number. It turns out to be the right one in the end.

just you and I | GA | 1 K inspired by Tom Odell's Grow Old with Me, and tells the story of Alex and Henry...you guessed it: growing old with each other. i cried writing it, and i cry reading it every time.

It’s in the little things, not just the big ones.

a beagle's guide to finding love | GA | 5.7 K writing a fic from David's POV seemed so crazy to me, but also so much fun. it was a great challenge I gave myself and it's one of my favourite stories.

When David feels like Henry could use a new friend, he takes the matter into his own paws.

SNL (series) | GA | 4.6 K my love for SNL has no bounds and I had to have Henry host and Alex be part of the cast. the first in the series is still my most kudoed fic to this date and i will never understand how such a small and niche story got so much love. but i am forever grateful.

A-list actor Henry decides to come out during an SNL sketch. Alex is the SNL regular who gets to kiss him during it. & Three years after his first appearance on SNL, Henry hosted the show for a second time. He talks about some special moments on Late Night With Seth Meyers.

pink silk ribbon kinky thingy | E | 7 K this fic was like a fever dream trying to show Alex and Henry as two horndogs. i was inspired by an illustration by @shirmirartthat's to this day tattooed on my brain

Alex finds a spool of silk ribbon which makes him feels things. Henry helps him process those feelings.

jacket on (jack it off) | E | 10.5 K a different fever dream of "a reverse striptease situation where Henry gets turned on by Alex putting on clothes"

As Alex gets dressed and ready for work, Henry is overwhelmed by the vision in front of him. So he takes the matter into his own hands.

no margin for error | M | 1.7 K my love for Formula 1 combined with my love for Arcane, giving me hope that one day i will write something else for JayVik

Jayce crashing in Monaco triggers painful memories for Viktor, as well as a confession.

No pressure tags for you lovelies and anyone else who wants to play 🥰

@ash-morrison @adreama-writes @cha-melodius @caterpills @14carrotghoul @dani-dabbles @dezinthecloud @emeryhall @everwitch-magiks @firenati0n @faketrex @iboatedhere @jafffacakess @myheartalivewrites @msmarvelouswinchester @ninzied @onthewaytosomewhere @orchidscript @porcelainmortal @sparklepocalypse @sophie1973 @shesfromboston @silvermaples @tinyarmedtrex @thighzp @thesleepyskipper

[sherlocked-hunter-in-the-tardis]

Do you have some head canons about Alfred taking care of a regressed and sick Jason? 😖

(btw , I love your writing)

OMG HI!! 💖💖

Why, YES I DO!! Thank you sooo much for asking!! 😭🍼💕

Let’s see, huh?? Because sick little Jason + Alfred = peak soft baby comfort and I am HERE FOR IT!!

Thank you for the ask, and thank you for reading my work!! I appreciate it so much!! 💓😭

Here we go:

🍼 Sick Baby Jason + Grandpa Alfred Headcanons 🤒

🛏️ Jason is the clingiest, whiniest little bat when he’s sick. Like, he goes from “gruff toddler with a vengeance” to soft, sniffly jelly the moment his fever spikes. He doesn’t want his blankie. He wants Alfred.

“G’ampa—‘urts…” he whines, reaching up with his flushed little hands. And Alfred is already scooping him into his arms, one hand steadying the back of Jason’s curls, the other patting his fever-warm back gently.

🍵 Alfred has a whole ‘sick day’ setup, honed over decades of baby Wayne boys and their dramatics. It includes:

Lukewarm tea with honey in a baby bottle. (Jason grumbles but drinks it.)

Damp cloths across his forehead.

A steamy lavender-scented bath to break the fever.

An enormous cozy quilt, tucked up to his chin.

👶 When Jason’s sick, his regression gets tiny. Like, Damian’s-cat-is-bigger-than-you tiny. He curls up in Alfred’s lap and won’t let go, arms clutched tight around Alfred’s vest, face buried in his chest, sniffling and shivering even when he’s warm.

“Don’ wanna medicine,” he mumbles, half-asleep and pouty.

“Nevertheless, Master Jason,” Alfred says gently, lifting the spoon to his lips. “You will take it for me. There’s a good lad.”

(He pouts through the whole thing. Alfred coos at him anyway.)

🧸 He sobs like the world is ending if Alfred tries to set him down. Even for a second. Alfred has mastered the one-handed soup stir while holding Jason on one hip like a cranky koala. And when Jason finally drifts off, clutching a stuffie and drooling a little, Alfred just rocks him in the chair by the fire, murmuring, “There, now. That’s my brave boy.”

🛌 Jason never wants to sleep alone when he’s sick and tiny. If Bruce is away, Alfred will settle him in the guest room beside his own and hold his hand across the gap until he nods off. If not? Jason just sleeps on Alfred. Entirely. The whole night. Alfred doesn’t move.

📚 Sick Jason’s voice goes all teeny and raspy, and Alfred reads to him in that quiet old-man cadence that somehow makes the world feel safe. Jason always chooses the same picture book: Where the Wild Things Are. He knows it by heart, but still listens like it’s the first time.

🩺 When he’s finally better, Jason is mortified about how clingy he was. Which of course means Alfred very delicately pretends none of it ever happened.

But he does kiss the top of Jason’s head and say, “You were very brave, Master Jason,” with a proud little smile, and Jason turns bright red before mumbling, “Tch—whatever, old man.”

🕊️ But every time he gets sick again, even when he’s big? Jason still asks if Alfred’s home. Just in case. And Alfred always is.

---

Thank you again for the love and for this ADORABLE ask!! 💕😭

Sick baby Jay is SO real and I love that we both know it!!

[bratzforchris]

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ CONFESSIONS » aligns with ch. 13 of twilight

summary: in which matt shows you exactly what he is in his favorite place

warnings: mentions of death and matt k!ll!ng reader, few uses of y/n, vampire!matt :3

wc: 1.4k

*disclaimer*: i do not own twilight nor is this an original idea. all characters and scenes belong to stephenie meyer, the original author. this is just a retelling!!

seeing matt in the sun was...shocking to say the least. even after an entire afternoon of staring at him, it was uncanny, but not unlikeable. his pale, milky skin literally sparkled, despite the slight flush of color from his most recent hunting trip. it was like his skin had been inlaid with hundreds of thousands of tiny diamonds.

he was stone-still in the grass, shirt unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up, showing off his perfectly sculpted chest, stomach, and arms. his slightly lavender lids were shut, seemingly at peace in the meadow, even though he wasn't sleeping. matt was a perfect statue, one hundred percent still, with a body smooth and cold like marble and glistening like crystals.

you still couldn't believe he had shared such a secret, personal space with you. the meadow was fringed with ferns and shone golden with the sun instead of mossy green like the ferns that surrounded it. it was small and perfectly round, and bristled with purple, yellow, and white wildflowers. the sound of a stream bubbled nearby and it was warm, warmer than the rest of forks, that was for sure. as beautiful as it was though, it paled next to matt's magnificence.

you were always afraid that at some point, you'd wake up and he'd been gone; like a mirage or a fever dream that had seemed all too real. needing to prove to yourself that he was real and here with you, you hesitantly reached out and stroked his icy hand with your pointer finger. it was icy cold, as it always was, but matt didn't make any move to push you away.

"i don't scare you?" he teased, mouth quirking up at the corners, but a hint of curiousity in his voice.

his eyes were lighter today, pale blue, after his hunting trip, as you looked into them. "no more than usual." you shrugged.

that made matt smile wider, the points of his teeth glinting in the sun as you traced your way up his cold arm, following his blue veins.

"do you mind?" you asked.

"no," he murmured. "it feels...nice."

you traced your way down his palm, until suddenly, he quickly grasped your hand in his. realizing his mistake, you froze, matt closing his eyes ad sighing again.

"i'm sorry," he whispered. "it's too easy to be myself with you."

you hummed in acknowledgement, holding his hand towards the sunlight and watching it glitter.

having composed himself, matt stared at you intently. "tell me what you're thinking," he said. "it's so...odd to not know."

"y'know, normal people feel that way all the time." you teased.

"avoiding the question."

"i was...wishing i could know what you're thinking," you whispered shyly. "and that i could believe you're real. and that i wasn't scared."

"i don't want you to be scared." matt said softly.

"that's not the fear i meant, but it is something to think about."

as always, matt's movements were so quick that you missed them. he was propped on his right arm, still holding your hand, moving so that face was only inches from yours. his face was angelic, eyes so blue and innocent you could hardly believe what he was actually capable of.

"what are you afraid of, then?" he whispered.

you were too stunned by the scent of his breath on your face to speak. it was intoxicating: sweet and unlike anything you'd smelled before, making you lean in closer and inhale.

the motion made matt flinch. before you could properly register what happened, he was on the edge of the forest, looking at you with an expression you couldn't read. despite their blue color, his eyes were dark in the shadows.

you prayed that the look of hurt, shock, and surprise didn't show on your face. "matt, i--i'm sorry.".

"i'm the world's best predator, aren't i?" matt called from the trees. "everything about me invites you in: my voice, my face, even my smell. as if i need any of that," he said sarcastically, dashing around the entire meadow in half a second. "as if you could outrun me," he laughed bitterly, going to a tree and effortlessly pulling off a branch that was several feet wide. he threw the branch with no effort at all before coming to sit beside you. "as if you could fight me off." he said gently.

you were more frightened of him than you'd ever been. this was the least human that you'd ever seen him. and yet, you were more captivated than terrified.

"you don't have to be afraid," matt said softly, voice laced with sadness. "i promise and swear not to hurt you," he murmured, trying to convince himself more than you. "now, where were we before i behaved so rudely? i'm on my best behavior now. not even thirsty today." he winked.

at that you had to laugh in spite of your trembling body. "we were talking about why i'm afraid...i'm afraid i like you more than i should." you admitted.

"well," matt murmured. "that is something to be afraid of...wanting to be with me. it's not in your best interest. i should've left a long time ago--" he stated, trailing off.

that made you frown. "but i don't want you to leave."

"that's why i should," matt looked at you seriously. "but don't worry. i'm essentially a selfish creature. i crave your company too much to leave. never forget that i'm much more dangerous to you than you are to me, though."

"what do you mean?"

"every person has different smell...an essence if you will. a creature like me becomes addicted to a specific person's essence," matt pasued to see if he had frightened you. "let's say someone has a specific vice, in this case, heroin."

"so what you're saying is i'm you own personal brand of heroin?" you spoke, hoping you'd understood his analogy correctly.

matt smiled, appreciating your effort. "you are exactly my brand of heroin."

"does it happen often? you becoming 'addicted' to one person?" you asked, making air quotes.

he shrugged. "i talked with my family about it. those of us that were more recently changed aren't as sensitive to differences in smell or...flavor. am i scaring you?"

"don't worry about scaring me," you said. "i want to understand you as best i can, whatever that looks like for you."

"my brothers have fallen off the wagon a few times, but--" he trailed off.

"are you asking my permission?" you questioned, trying to ignore the shake in your voice; after all, you were discussing your own death.

"no!" matt said quickly. "it's just different. we were younger then, less practiced. the...people were strangers when this happened."

"so if we met in the dark woods?"

matt glared at you. "you don't know how hard it was for me that firt day of class. i almost ruined everything my family had made for us here in forks. i'm sure you thought i was possessed."

"i just didn't know why you'd hate me so fast." you shrugged.

"it was like you were summoned from my own personal hell to torture me. i spent the entire hour thinking of ways that i could get you alone, lure you out of the classroom and," matt paused to look up at you from under his lashes. "you would've come."

"without a doubt." you said, admitting the truth.

"i resisted when i thought of my family and how i could ruin everything for them, but it took my entire strength to not follow you home. thank god it was more clear outside where your scent was less noticeable. i'm sure you noticed i left school for two days after; i went hunting, fed more than usual."

you exhaled a shaky breath. "how can you do it? treat me like a normal human, that is."

"y/n, i couldn't live with myself if i hurt you," he said seriously. "you don't know how it's tortured me. the thought of you still, white, and cold. i'd never see you blush again, or see that flash of knowing in your eyes. you are the most important thing to me now. the most important thing to me ever."

your head was spinning at matt's confession. "well, you know how i feel," you started. "i'm here, which basically means i'm an idiot."

"you are an idiot," he laughed. "and so the lion fell in love with the lamb..."

"what a stupid lamb." you sighed.

"what a sick, masochistic lion."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

© bratzforchris

lilah yaps ⋆. 𐙚 ˚: TWILIGHT AU!! i've decided to post my favorite scenes bc i figured you guys would want more interaction between matt/chris and reader :) if you have a scene request from any book, lmk! interactions are super appreciated <3 if you want to be tagged in what i post, comment an emoji on my intro post!!

tags: @iconiccolo @heartsonlyforchris @mattsdiamonds @sturnsheart @tezzzzzzzz @oopsiedaisydeer @angelicameron @eyesonmattyb @sweetheartsturn @gabbiesdreams @h3arts4nat @ariieeesworld @urfavvbilliemunch @spookysturnz @snoopymatt @mattscoquette @sturns-mermaid @courta13

[ghostgirlyuri]

shimeji simulation ended... what a dark and captivating exploration of what it means to exist as yourself alongside and within others and the ways that that can lead to creation and destruction

it starts out as a simple absurdist comedy and it unravels into something i have trouble putting into words it feels very personal and honest the feelings of fear and loneliness that come from being and this nihilist feeling that everything is meaningless but also how maybe the simple joys of human connection are worth something

it leaves me with this pit in my stomach that feels like a void and a massive weight this dense complexity and this ethereal nothingness woven together and at the end all i can say is that it has deeply effected me and its uh really good go read it i guess

[sacchiri]

Hellsing 2002 calendar illustration.

Ein wunderliche und erschröckliche Hystori von einem großen Wüttrich genant Dracole wayda Der do so ganz unkristenliche marrter hat angelegt die mensche, als mit spissen als auch die leut zu Tod geslyffen

A wondrous and frightening story about a great berserk called Dracula the voivode who inflicted such unchristian tortures such as with stakes and also dragged people to death

[cheesecakeislazy]

Y’all do not understand how badly I need a man that loves his kids. Like- I want that domesticated fluffy fanfiction lifestyle. Give me a man that genuinely wants to see his kids grow up into amazing people. Give me a man that spoils his kid as much as he spoils me if not more. It is honestly in my opinion literally the hottest, no- SEXIEST thing EVER. When a man just WANTS TO BE THE BEST DAD EVER. Literally gets me so excited and feet kicking happy to the point where I will probably never stop having children.

does this technically mean i like dilfs?

[brown-little-robin]

How self-insert-y do I want to get with this new oc 🤔

[quemirabobo]

I just realized that I've been putting too much on my plate lately and instead of getting some of that shit done all I end up with is feeling sick every week and things keep accumulating and I stress myself ten times more and I end up doing nothing, reading something to distract myself of the fucking titanic quest I put my ass on

[dykeandballs]

happy new years eve and new years to my gay ass mutuals

[kinetic-elaboration]

June 15: Olav 4 Years Later

My idea for 2024, before I decided to Write the Thing—a true Choices Have Consequences situation for sure; can’t complain—was to reread Olav in the new translation, which I do still want to do. I just think it will take me 2-3 years and also be emotionally devastating and I don’t know if I feel like I have the fortitude for that. I also want to read Kristin Lavransdatter but I feel worried about that for the same reason (emotional devastation etc.).

But anyway I’ve been thinking about it and I just… she’s so good. I have never read anyone with this level of precision and control; it’s so intimidating, it’s so much. And it’s on every level: physical description, emotional description, story beats. What really gets me is her ability to so deftly control the emotion she’s creating and I think it plays into this extreme realism of the characters and the events. Yes, things get very Big, very romantic or very violent or very life-changing, but then it always comes down, it’s always quirked to the side, so it’s not just a fantasy, it’s not what you’d expect from a pure-narrative but what you might expect from real life. Like you’re never allowed to romanticize anything—too much.

I’m thinking about Cecilia throwing a toddler-tantrum when Olav is trying to have a sad, sweet experience cuddling his children after their mother’s death, or how he tries to have an affair with an Englishwoman but she smells weird and the sex is bad, or how he doesn’t tell his daughter and the others that the example they’ve found of Ingunn’s amazing sewing was actually a garment he’d bought elsewhere and brought home, not one she made. And most of all I’m thinking about how badly I felt I needed a break after Book 2 and then Olav needed a break too, and so I kept going because I trusted that everyone was on the same page here and I would be taken emotionally where I needed to go. Honestly, a little more trust and I would have been able to read the ending without waiting 4 months to get to the last 7 pages or whatever but I just couldn’t handle the boat metaphor and I still can’t.

Maybe writing-so-intimidating-that-I-can’t-even-handle it isn’t a great thing to be contemplating as I try to get into writing again but it’s passing through my mind. Sometimes I want to be able to write like that; not that level, that’s not plausible, but with great precision and clarity, not gaudy, but where the clarity itself is its own beauty. But other times I want to write things that are completely incomprehensible on a word-by-word level but create overall an undeniable mood, so that you know that you know the thing, or feel the thing, but not why.

[satellitesunset]

myle.txt

[youkah]

thinking about what kind of path I would be on art wise if I didn't watch Inuyasha when I was like 8. because I was super into warrior cats thanks to sss wcs animations and the first few arcs that I read I was SEATED for new releases of the episodes. it even got me into animation and so all I drew were cats when before I just was drawing anime girls because of the anime I watched. and then I watched Inuyasha and pivoted back to only drawing humans, and then I discovered vocaloid and stopped drawing then entirely. and now I can't draw animals... I wonder if that didn't happen if I'd be drawing only cats now... Power of hyperfixations and vocaloid autism...