#fever-induced writing

[climbthemountain2020]

Solstice Gifts

Baby's first Feysand! | Ao3

[Feyre loves buying Solstice gifts for her family, but this year she might have been outdone.]

Eternal thank yous and forehead kisses to @tunaababee @cauldronblssd and @witch-and-her-witcher for just being the most wonderful humans and beta reading and encouraging me to post this.

Solstice in Velaris was the most lovely time of year, and no matter how much time Feyre spent here, she doubted she’d ever grow tired of it.

The snowy streets were covered in faelights, all twisted into beautiful shapes and hanging from the signs and light posts. There were long strings of them criss-crossing over The Rainbow and casting all the snow and shops in an ethereal glow. Complex smells of cinnamon, clove, freshly baked breads, rosemary, and mulled ciders cascaded from the storefronts, their windows decked in boughs of holly and fir and their doors hung with mistletoe.

Feyre was hurrying back to the River House, late as usual, with the last of her gifts.

She’d been mostly organized this year, but Nesta’s gift had ended up taking longer than expected, and of course today was the first time she’d been able to sneak off to grab the little Illyrian leathers with space for wings that would fit an almost-four year old.

She’d gone a little overboard on gifts this year, but it was hard to not spoil those she loved now that she had the means. Old habits die hard, and she too-vividly remembered the years that she and her sisters had stoically ignored the Solstice happening at all, not even a candle lit in the windows to be spared. So now, when things had changed so vastly in the last seven years, she would fully use every bit of means at her disposal to shower everyone with gifts they would love.

Nyx was six now, somehow, the years flying by in a rush that she tried and failed to stop like grabbing whitewater in her hands. Rhysand reassured her constantly, a laugh on his lips, that though time was flying, they still had centuries together, and there was no need to beg for more. Another thing she had trouble letting go of in her immortality–the idea that things were good now, and there was no time limit on it. Things could be happy and productive and peaceful like this for centuries more. But Feyre still had trouble allowing hope for good things to bloom in her heart, despite feeling beyond blessed in all ways.

She shuffled the bags in her arms–she’d had to stop for some last-minute pastries, too. What good was a solstice birthday if she couldn’t eat whatever she wanted? The smells on the way to the leather-smith had been too good to resist, and she was crazed for the pistachio croissants with the bergamot filling that the bakery beside Rita’s had this time of year.

She quietly snuck the front door open, hoping to slip in quietly and unnoticed by her houseguests. Mor, draped in her normal gorgeous finery, strode through the foyer, lifting a brow that surely must be genetic, and before tipping her head back to laugh at Feyre.

“You’re just as bad as Rhys, you know? I saw him coming back not twenty minutes ago.”

Rhys, that weasel.

Feyre wondered what he’d been off plundering after amusedly lecturing her this morning about sneaking out last minute for more presents. She ran the bags upstairs, ditched her coat, and wrapped the leathers quickly in the celebratory packaging she’d picked up last month in their guest bedroom before scurrying back down the stairs. She’d arrived just in time, everyone present in the sitting room as Nuala and Cerridwen announced the dinner was ready. Luckily, she’d had the foresight to prepare before going to grab the gifts, her long midnight-blue dress swaying luxuriously around her feet, the gossamer sleeves like a soft embrace along her arms. She’d definitely gotten used to wearing pretty clothes in the time she’d spent in Velaris, though most days, she still dressed for comfort. She’d left her hair down and lightly curled, compulsively tucking a strand behind her ear as she entered the dining room. Elain had helped prepare the Solstice meal and cake, as she insisted she do every year, and Feyre had to admit it all looked mouthwatering, as always.

Rhys pulled her seat out for her as she walked up, pressing a quick kiss to the side of her head as he pushed her in.

“Last minute shopping go well?” He murmured against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine and goosebumps down her arms. He knew it, too, and she turned to scrunch her nose at him as he laughed.

“I hear you’re one to talk, hypocrite.” He held his hand to his chest feigning offense, then sent her an absolutely world-shattering smile as he moved to take his place.

A crash in the hall sent Feyre’s eyes to the doors, followed by Nesta’s bellowing.

“Hey! Wings closed indoors! You know the rules.” Giggles abound as Nyx and Aife came into the room, leaning into each other and cackling as they took their seats. They were only two years apart and thick as thieves. Though Nesta and Feyre would never admit it aloud, seeing their children close as they’d never had the opportunity to be as children had healed something between the two of them that had once felt depthless.

Nyx pushed midnight-black hair from his eyes as he looked to Feyre.

“Mom, can we go play with our presents after we open them tonight? I promise I’ll go straight to bed after.”

“I don’t see why not. Nesta, are you all staying the night tonight?” Nesta looked to Cassian and nodded.

“I think so. Aife and Nyx are going to be here all day tomorrow anyway during the snowball fight. We might as well.” She gave a pointed look to Cassian, who grinned wolfishly. Feyre could hear Aife whispering to Nyx.

“Who’s going to win this year?”

“Uncle Az. It’s always Uncle Az. He says our dads are old now.” They both giggled and Feyre cracked a smile, shooting the conversation down the bond to Rhys, whose eyebrows lifted as he shot her an amused smile as if to say we’ll see.

They tucked into the great feast, a large roast the centerpiece, surrounded by offerings of ham and turkey and too many sides to reasonably name. Feyre loaded her plate with the most buttery mashed potatoes she’d ever tasted, one of Elain’s specialities that Feyre always requested for special occasions, as well as a basil and tomato tart, baked to crisp perfection by Nuala.

She remembered a time when she’d hated her birthday, and while she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with all the attention, she surely would celebrate now if only for the delicious foods she got to have. She couldn’t beat the company either, her blood and chosen family all seated around the table, laughing and loving and enjoying themselves in her home. A decade ago, she would have laughed in the face of anyone who’d tried to describe this possibility, and it wasn’t lost on her how much luck and fate had stepped in to make things as they were.

++

Stuffed to the brim and with the gift exchange behind them, Feyre slumped onto the couch. The kids had been spoiled beyond reason, the piles of gifts higher than the chairs surrounding them.

Nyx and Aife had begged Az, Cass, and Lucien to bring them outside to practice with the new bow and arrow sets, courtesy of Elain and Lucien’s recent trip to the Day Court. As the official “Uncle Troupe”, as they’d so ridiculously named themselves, they felt it would have been in poor taste to decline. Feyre pulled her feet up onto the couch and laid her head back. It had been a busy few months, though things were finally, blessedly beginning to smooth out. They’d been able to delegate a bit more recently, and it certainly helped their workload.

Elain had gone back to the kitchens to help clean up and exchange gifts with the twins before they took off for the evening, leaving Feyre to relax for a bit while Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, and Mor sat at the table with sweets and coffees chatting. Amren and Varian had skipped the party this year in favor of a trip to Summer, as they now alternated holidays between courts. While she’d never taunt Amren to her face about it, Feyre secretly loved how domesticated she’d become in the time she’d known her, settling down while still claiming that ancient power hummed through her veins.

She felt Rhys sit down by her feet, his presence always noted by her magic immediately twining with his. At any given time, she could feel where he was, the power soaring back and forth between them like a current. The depth of love between them was fathomless and deep, and she’d never quite get over the fact that she had him all to herself, hers and hers alone, for the rest of her life.

He picked her feet up in his hands, shuffling them over to his lap and giving them a squeeze.

“Tired, darling?” His voice was a low rumble as he leaned against the back of the couch, settling in.

“Exhausted. I love the holidays, but I would also love a solid two days of sleep.” He laughed, his smile lighting up the room as she lifted her head to peek at him. “Did you enjoy your Solstice gifts?”

She’d bought him a device she’d found at one of the shops in Day Court on a summer visit to Elain and Lucien months ago. Duty had them back and forth between courts now, and Feyre couldn’t deny the love she had for any excuse to get to the shimmering beaches of Day. She’d found it nestled in the back of a tinkerer’s store–a handheld device that rolled over clothes, enchanted to remain sticky, and pulled any lint or fuzz from them.

“It’s only my favorite thing I’ve ever owned,” Rhys quipped immediately. She laughed, closing her eyes again and poking him in the side with her toe. He gripped it in his hands and threatened to tickle her. “How about you, love? Get everything you wanted?” Feyre paused, but didn’t open her eyes. She should say yes. She should feel like she had everything she wanted, but there was just one thing missing, and unfortunately it was something she couldn’t have.

“Hey lovebirds, we’re heading out!” Mor called across the room, her arm around Emerie’s.

Feyre sat up to say goodbye. “So early?”

Mor chuckled and Emerie elbowed her in the ribs. “Solstice plans of our own,” Mor said, waggling her brows at Rhys and giggling as he rubbed his eyes and gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Alright, then.” He slapped his palms on his thighs, laughing and ending the conversation as Emerie blushed about ten shades of red, still not quite used to the way this family spoke so openly about things. Feyre stood to hug them both.

“We’re so glad you came. Feel free to drop in any time tomorrow. We’ll be here all day.”

Gwyn and Nesta had gone to join their mates and the children out on the illuminated training ring in the yard, leaving Feyre to slip back down onto the couch, this time scooting closer to Rhys and leaning her body against his. He was always so warm and solid, her touchstone in times both trying and lovely. He always smelled like oranges and the sea–the smell of Velaris, of home, tied intrinsically with his. She nuzzled closer, his arm finding its way around her waist as he settled too.

“Everything okay, darling?”

She hummed noncommittally. She hated that even with all this joy, all these gifts, all this family, she still couldn't shake the thought that something was missing, incomplete.

“Can you believe this is Nyx’s sixth Solstice?” She felt Rhys soften beneath her, realization creeping down the bond from his end, followed by a burst of soothing love and affection.

“He's incredible, isn't he? What are we going to do when he learns how to use that bow accurately?” She laughed.

“Truly, it's the inaccurate use I'm more worried about.” His breath ghosted her ear as he chuckled, sending those light shivers scurrying back along her spine.

Things got quiet, then. She knew it would take very little for Rhys to understand what she was thinking, if he didn't already intrinsically know. Even without the bond, even without the daemati powers, there was really a moment he wasn't able to read her like a wide open book.

“He's so big now…” she let her voice drift off, trying to hide the hurt in it and failing miserably. As always Rhys filled in the gaps.

“He’s wonderful. We made a really wonderful child, Feyre. He’s everything I never even dared to hope for for myself. I never thought such joy was possible for someone like me. You know that he’s the greatest gift you ever could have given me, right?” She felt the tears burning behind her eyes, and she took in a deep breath as she felt him press a kiss to her temple.

“I know.” Her voice was just a wobbly whisper, quiet in the room.

“And if he’s the only one we ever have, it’s more than enough for me. I need to know you know that, Feyre.” She nodded furiously, the big tears slipping down her cheeks now, burning hot tracks as they descended.

“I can’t even explain it. It just feels like someone else should be here.” He pulled her tightly against him, resting his chin on her shoulder and rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

“And maybe, someday, they will be. But if the three of us are all we ever have, it’s more than enough. It’s everything to me.” She couldn’t hold back the sobs then, turning to bury her face in his chest as she cried.

It had been two years since they’d decided things had evened out enough that another child was even an option for them. They’d been casual about it at first, enjoying themselves and giggling in the dark under covers as they talked about the possibilities of the future. She missed Nyx’s tufts of baby curls, that new infant smell that seemed to cling to him always then faded abruptly away after he hit one year. She missed the snuggles and the closeness, and her heart ached to watch how wonderful he was with his cousin without knowing if she’d ever be able to give him that gift as a big brother.

Realistically, she knew all the logic. It could take fae decades to have a child. It wasn’t always going to be as quick as it had been with Nyx. He’d come quickly, but the consequences, as everyone remembered, had been disastrous and near-fatal. She’d never even considered the possibility of it being a problem again when Nesta informed her she’d changed their anatomy, but she’d never considered that she might be the one having the problem. Part of her wondered if the absolute massacre of her body bringing Nyx into the world was responsible–her tissue mangled and her blood spilt and her spirit eking into the ether, only to be yanked back and mended together at the last possible second. Could it have damaged her irreparably, the anatomy be damned?

“Nothing is your fault, love. Not one bit of it.” He held her to his chest as her cries subsided. “And it’s okay to be upset about this. You don’t have to hold everything in all the time. There are no prizes for stoicism.” She snorted at him, and he huffed amusedly at her.

“Pot, meet kettle,” she shot back wetly. He smiled softly as she sat back to look at him, a little of the life returning to her as well.

“You’re a lovely mother, and our boy thinks you’ve hung the stars and moon above Velaris, even if he is getting old enough to wield a weapon. A little sibling won’t ever change that. Plus, I get the impression Aife isn’t going to be his only cousin.” She sighed, nodding, as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“It’s just hard not to feel like I’ve done something wrong. I know how badly you want another, how badly I do. It’s hard not to wonder.” He took his hands in hers.

“I meant it when I told you that you and Nyx, you are the gifts. Our family is absolutely lovely the way it is now. If we’re meant to grow it one day, we will, and if we aren’t, believe me when I tell you I am absolutely over the moon for the way things are now.” She couldn’t help but kiss him then, the stars reflecting in his violet eyes taking her breath away, as they always did. “Plus, I never mind practicing with you.” She smacked him across the chest as he grinned broadly and wickedly at her, hauling her into his lap in response as she yelped.

If anything, Rhys knew how to chase away her tears better than anyone else ever had or would.

Just then, the parlor doors opened and Elain stepped through.

“Oh, just the two I was looking for! I’ve got one last gift for you both, but I wanted to wait until the right moment.” She ducked back through the doors momentarily, reappearing with a small, neatly wrapped parcel as they stood. She flounced lightly up to them, setting the little bundle wrapped in delicate yellow paper in Rhys’s hands.

“Elain, you didn’t need to get us anything else. You already gave us such lovely gifts and you made dinner.” Elain blushed, still the demure lady after all this time.

“Consider it a double gift.” She whispered as she leaned in conspiratorially. Rhys pulled back the paper and pulled out the tiniest, knitted pink blanket.

One beat, two. The silence hung in the room as Elain smiled wide.

“I just saw last week, but I wanted to make you something to let you know in a way that was special.”

Feyre’s hands shot to her stomach, and Rhys began to cry, turning to her and holding her close while still looking at Elain.

“Now?” Feyre asked, incredulously.

“Probably only about a month along.” Elain smiled again. “I knew with the wings and everything last time, you’d want to get in to see Madja as early as possible.”

Feyre was sobbing into Rhys’s chest again, his tears dripping down into her hair. Feyre felt him reach out to Elain and pull her into the embrace.

“Thank you, Elain. Thank you so much.” She pulled back, laughing lightly again.

“I’ll leave you both to it then. I gotta get little lady’s cousin and uncle home safely.” She put a hand to her own stomach, winked, and went towards the back to grab Lucien before Feyre and Rhys could even register her news. He grabbed her face in his hands, pressing kisses to every inch of her face.

“I love you, more than anything.” Feyre laughed, the sound breathless and airy. She couldn’t take her hands off her stomach, the joy pulsing through her veins with every beat of her heart.

A daughter.

“I have one more gift for you, too, actually.” He reached into his back pocket to withdraw a small, navy velvet box, pressing it gently into her hands.

Her eyes shot to his. “You didn’t need to get me something else.”

“Open it.” His smile was wide open, his entire heart spelled across his face like stars across the night sky.

Feyre cracked open the box and couldn’t help the flood of tears that began anew. Nestled in the soft velvet was a silver necklace, a charm of a large crescent moon with two small stars dangling down off of it.

“You knew?”

“I suspected.” He smiled. “You’ve been getting those pistachio pastries all week that you liked so much last time. I figured it couldn’t hurt to be prepared with one more last minute gift.” She took it out, turning to let him put it on her. He let his hands graze across her neck as he dropped them while she turned in his arms.

“Beautiful.” He murmured, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Thank you, Rhys. I love it. It’s been the best Solstice ever.” Her smile was broad and teary, but she felt the joy all the way down to the very fibers of her immortal heart.

“Thank you, Feyre. For all of it.”

And nothing in all of Velaris could hold a candle to the joy radiating back and forth down the bond between them in that moment as their lips met quietly again this Solstice.

[thecryptidart1st]

No, I was absolutely caught off-guard by John Oliver explaining how Chuck E. Cheese used to be sketchy as hell, almost as if two guys from the 1970s made it through a ton of ABBA, drugs, and sleepless nights

(Also Hello Minerva)

[grimgoregrimoire]

Oh man, I'm sick! I don't really feel like writing!

*Proceeds to write 12 poems "just for fun uwu"*

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

would you be willing to write for ryan from the office again? :)

Ryan Howard is super sick. A new coworker takes care of him and helps him with his congestion. CW: Induced sneezing (non-kink).

So I know canonically Ryan is a selfish, egotistical ass who never learns from his mistakes, but I can just imagine him being a little more subdued and boyish and eager to please when he first starts his fancy corporate job, and even more so if he finds himself miserably sick. For that reason, this story is set within the first few weeks of him leaving the Scranton branch and starting his new role. Mess warning, definitely more than I usually write. It was egg week when I wrote most of this, so no apologies. This also refers to sn*t and other less “pretty” snz words often, because that’s how I imagine Ryan would think about them. 

To the anon who requested, sorry as always for the long wait. Winter sucks the writing juice out of me without fail. At least it’s extra long anyway. Hope this is somewhat what you were looking for. 

Based on this post by @nobodybetterlookatme

Prompts used (from this old prompt list): 

🦠  sniffles

🤧 sick for the holidays

What A Lovely Way to Burn

Ryan Howard scrubbed his hands over his face for the third or fourth time that hour, noting yet again how cold his hands felt against his cheeks. He sniffled, coughed, hating the grating sound it made and how much it hurt his head and throat. He had hardly put his hands down when a demanding itch flared up in his sinuses and he scrambled to grab a tissue. 

"KZZT'choo! KHGGZT'choo!!" The thick, stifled sneezes had unpleasantly shifted all the congestion in his head, and he blew what felt like a gallon of slime out of his nose. 

"You've been in New York for two weeks in the middle of summer, and you're already sick?" came a laughing voice from nearby. Ryan jumped, shoving the nasty tissue out of sight hurriedly. A hot girl, in fact that hottest girl here, the one that had caught his attention from the first day, was standing in front of his desk. Actually, leaning on it would be more accurate. She smirked at him flirtatiously, taking in his barely-unpacked desk and sickly, disheveled appearance. "Happy fourth of July, by the way."

"Yep. Happy fourth of July. Sick for the most random holiday. Call me lucky, I guess," he said, wishing he could pronounce the consonants properly. 

"New York has that effect on people. Sorry about your luck, Lucky. My name's Tiffani. With an I. 

"Nice to meet you, Tiffani with an I. And my name isn't actually Lucky. It's Ryan."

"I noticed." She nodded to the shiny nameplate on the front of his desk that had just arrived that morning. "Well Ryan Howard, VP of Northeast Sales, you are clearly a walking health hazard. What the hell are you doing here if you're sick?"

"I mean you said it yourself," he croaked. "I haven't even been here two weeks yet. It would look so bad if I called in already."

"Hmm." Before he realized what she was doing, her cool hand was pressed against his forehead. She made a soft sound in her throat, then suddenly both her hands were gently cupping his cheeks. 

"You have a fever. Poor thing," she cooed, gently running her thumbs over his cheek bones.

He sniffled wetly, then coughed. "That's no big deal. I just hate that I can't stop coughing and sneezing."

"Aww, honey. You should be in bed," she said sternly. 

"Trust me, I wish I was. But I just… I can't. Now's not the right time."

"Hmm," she said again, scrutinizing him. "If you say so. Have you eaten?"

He shrugged. "Not really. I'm not hungry. I can't taste anything, so–"

"Well that doesn't matter. You still need to eat. Wait here." 

He watched her go, feeling a little breathless from everything that had transpired in the past five minutes, snotty cold notwithstanding.

Tiffani was gone longer than he expected (though he really had no idea what to expect), so he was attempting to work once more when a box of tissues hit him in the arm, nearly making him leap out of his seat. He glanced up to find Tiffani smirking at him yet again, holding a styrofoam takeout container. 

"I said your name twice and you didn't even look up. Are you always this easy to scare?"

"No," he said sullenly. "My ears are all plugged up with everything else. And I was trying to concentrate."

"My apologies. I didn't realize you were so busy and important. Guess I'll take back the stuff I got you if you don't want it…."

He quickly pulled the desperately-needed box of tissues out of her reach. These weren't the crappy industrial office ones he'd been using either–they were the premium lotion ones. 

"No, I want it," he said quickly. "Thank you. For bringing them."

"That's only half of it." She set down the styrofoam container and pushed it toward him. "You need to eat. You'll feel better if you do."

He reached for this offering almost in spite of himself, feeling a sudden, low rumble of hunger. The container was very warm; whatever it was would feel so good on his sore throat. "Where did you get all this?"

"I had it delivered of course."

"But… why?"

"Sucking up to the new VP, why else?" 

Suddenly her hand was pressed to his forehead again, so fast he hardly saw her move. He found himself leaning into the touch almost reflexively, heavy and aching as his head was. 

She clucked her tongue. "If you're going to stay, you need to take some medicine for that fever." She produced a bottle of Tylenol and pushed it toward him with the rest. 

"You really don't need to do all this. It's just a cold." Yet he reached for the pills too, knowing her logic was sound. The next four hours would go much smoother if he was medicated. A thick, rumbling cough escaped before he could swallow the pills, making his chest and throat sear. 

"Since you've apparently caught a cold from hell, I really think I do need to do all this."

"Why, though?" he croaked again, helplessly. "We hardly know each other."

She leaned in, giving him a clear view of the cleavage he'd been trying to avoid staring at until now. When she spoke, her voice was soft and silky. "Because someone needs to take care of the new boss, and that someone might as well be me." She straightened up again, brushing her hair over her shoulder with an air of someone who knew exactly what she was doing. "I'll be keeping an eye on you today. We'll make sure you start feeling better, for all our sakes. No one is getting any work done with you coughing and sneezing in here like you have been." 

Ryan felt himself flush. "Thanks," he muttered, sniffling uncomfortably. 

She was true to her word and checked on him regularly throughout the day. He wasn't entirely sure yet what her role was in the company, but apparently it had a lot of flexibility, judging by how much she was away from her desk. And every time she came, she brought him something else–cough drops, tea, more medicine. He had to admit, she was incredibly good at predicting his needs. He survived the intervening hours in far more comfort than he would have without her help. 

Still, when the end of the day rolled around, he was the sort of utterly exhausted that only working while miserably sick can cause. Half dead on his feet, he slowly packed up to leave, and in the process he nearly crashed into Tiffani, who had snuck up on him once again and was standing beside his desk. In his foggy state he staggered and almost fell, but she caught him by the arm to steady him. 

"You really are a mess, aren't you?" she asked, worry coloring her tone. 

" 'm just sick," he mumbled, coughing wetly to prove his point. "And I didn't expect you to be standing there. What are you doing anyway?" he asked, noting that she was also dressed to leave and carrying her purse. 

"Coming to take you home."

"I'm an adult. I don't need help getting back to my apartment."

"We're not going to your apartment. We're going to mine."

She laughed at the expression on his face at this development.

"You just moved here, and you're a guy, so I'm sure at best you're sleeping on a mattress on the floor. You also probably have no food or medicine at your place yet, which is why you're as sick as you are to begin with. It makes way more sense for you to come home with me. You'll be much more comfortable."

He frowned half-heartedly, but had no argument. She had him pegged perfectly. Nothing sounded better than a real bed and a furnished apartment right now. 

Seeing she had won, she smirked. She proved her powers of observation once more when she prodded the toe of her shoe into the corner of the duffle bag peeking out from under his desk. "What's this? Gym bag?"

"Yeah. Was planning to use the gym here but…" he gestured vaguely at his red, dripping nose.

"Bring that with you, then, and let's go." She grabbed his elbow possessively. "You'll love my place. It's very cozy."

A subway ride and a short walk later, they were arriving at a section of lower-income but still decent housing hidden in the heart of the city. Ryan hardly knew the city yet, and he was too sick and tired to pay attention to where they were going, but let her lead him with gentle pushes and pulls on his arm, trying to look less contagious than he felt. He could tell his fever was creeping up by how hot his ears felt, and all he wanted to do was fall into something resembling a bed and not get up for a long time. He let her lead him into an apartment building, up a few flights of stairs, and through one of the doors off a hallway landing. 

It was a quaint little studio apartment, painted in soft, muted tones with cheerful feminine accents here and there, bright and open. The bed was immediately to the right of the door, separated from the rest of the room by cleverly placed shelving units, giving the feel of it being more than one room while a cozy sitting area dominated the rest of the space. One wall was made up almost entirely of windows, and the sunset leant a lovely, natural glow to the atmosphere. 

"You have a beautiful apartment," he rasped, getting less intelligible by the hour.

"Thank you. I've lived here for three years now. I love it."

Ryan would never be bold enough to take a stranger's bed without being asked, so he made for the large couch, kicking off his shoes and shedding his jacket as he went with another husky cough. His original plan was to sit on the couch and just breathe for a bit, and make an attempt to be good company, but the plush cushions were so comfortable that he sank sideways, almost against his will, until his face met the soft throw pillow on his right. His eyes fell closed of their own accord and he tucked his legs up as well, but he did his best to stay awake for the time being. In his current state, the wide couch felt more comfortable than any bed he'd ever slept in. Yet Tiffani didn't let him get too comfortable, and plied him with medications for the fever immediately. 

"It's been hours since your last dose and you're looking really sick again," she explained, watching as he drank a glass of water with the pills. 

"I can't say I don't feel it," he sniffled, lying back down. 

"Poor thing," she cooed. "I'm glad you can finally rest for a while.

 He listened as Tiffani puttered around putting her things away. Soft music began to play, and then he heard a sharp clicking sound. His eyes fluttered open to see her lighting a candle. At ease immediately, his lids slipped shut again. 

It seemed only a moment passed before he felt her shaking his arm, but when he opened his eyes again, she had changed clothes and showered, and her hair was in a towel. 

"You should get a shower and get out of your work clothes," she said. "You'll feel better when you're more comfortable."

He grunted his assent, his throat too sore to want to talk. He sluggishly levered himself into a sitting position, sniffling as he tried to avoid dripping on himself, then stood, grabbing his gym bag. The urge to sneeze overwhelmed him suddenly:

“Heh’KIHHPT’shoo! Hddd'TSHHHooo! Dihh'IHSHHooo!!

 He almost doubled over with the force of the messy trio. He hardly had time to cover, let alone find a tissue, so his hands were covered in slime by the end. He made a disgusted sound in his throat as he surveyed the mess.

"Bless you. Now you definitely need a shower," Tiffani laughed, unperturbed. "Go get cleaned up. Maybe it'll clear your head a bit too."

He tried to do as he was told, but just as he reached his destination another pair of sneezes snuck up on him, further soiling his hands:

“KIIHHPT-ttsscch! KHHGGT'nxxt!"

“Bless you again,” Tiffani said dutifully.

"Why is this cold getting worse instead of better?" he griped, swiping a tissue from the bathroom counter to scrub at his hands and nose as he continued to sniffle fruitlessly.  

"That's how colds work, silly," she said, rolling her eyes fondly. 

"Will this one seems to suck more than most," he mumbled, shutting the bathroom door behind him at last. 

The hot water did indeed help in many ways, from the aches to the congestion to the tiredness, and he emerged feeling marginally better, especially now that he was wearing soft workout clothes instead of a starchy shirt and pants. He managed to smile at Tiffani from the door of the bathroom, but the first breath he took of non-steamy air brought the sinus irritation roaring back, and he was forced to bury his face into the bundle of clothes in his arms as he exploded into the messiest sneezing fit yet:

Huhh’REHHSHHHoo! ESSHHHyoo! Kuh-hh-HUSSHHHoo! Huh’ISSHHoo! Hh-h… huh’KIISHHoo! Heh-hh… Hiihg’KSSHHoo!”

“BLESS you,” Tiffany said, looking startled now. “That was… intense. Do you feel better at least?”

Ryan could only shake his head as his breath started to hitch once more, eyes red and streaming already: ��Hehh'dzz-IHHH'shoo! Heh'KIHHT'shoo! Kihhh'IHHTchoo! Hihh'GEHH-CHOOF!”

Tiffani frowned. “Something is setting you off. You shouldn’t be sneezing so much.”

“Mbaybe idt’s the ca’dle,” Ryan croaked, nodding to the counter where the scented flame was still flickering. “Budt those dond’t usually bother mbe….” 

Tiffani didn’t wait for him to finish and quickly snuffed out the offending flame. Meanwhile Ryan crushed a handful of tissues to his weeping nose, trying to quell the persistent tickle as he staggered his way back to the couch, feeling much worse now than he had before the shower. His head throbbed, his eyes ached, his throat seared. The brief sense of relief the shower had provided was already a faint memory. He felt distinctly foggy as Tiffani plied him with food and fussed around, trying to make him comfortable. He managed a few bites, trying to make her happy. The itching in his nose never fully subsided, though, nor did the dripping, and now his head was also stopped tight with suffocating congestion from the forceful stifling, making him feel even more puffy and achy. He found himself unable to breathe any way but through his mouth, which made him cough more, and of course he had to keep a tissue perpetually pressed to his upper lip. In short, he felt all around disgusting. Wrapped up in his own misery, he didn’t realize Tiffani was talking to him until she nudged his shoulder a while later. 

“Why are you breathing like a dying fish? You really don’t sound good.”

"Kinda feel like I'mb drowni’g," he slurred. “Cand’t breathe. Too congested.”

“I can see that,” she agreed. “Hm…” she glanced over her shoulder. “Do you want to try to get unplugged? I think sneezing might be better than whatever is happening to you right now.”

He was in no state to make decisions, but she was right, anything had to be better than this, so he nodded sluggishly, wondering what she had in mind. He didn’t have to wonder long, for in a moment she was holding a familiar candle under his nose, the same one that had just been burning. The wax still hadn’t hardened completely. 

“Take a deep breath and don’t stifle anymore. Just let it happen.”

He gave her a skeptical look, but took the warm glass jar from her. “You bedder step bagck, then. I dond’t wandt to sndeeze on you.”

She obediently crossed to the other side of the room. When she was out of range, he took a hesitant whiff, nose only inches from the wax. 

The results were instantaneous. His nostrils flared, his chest expanded and his breath gasped as he launched into the messiest, wettest sneezing fit he’d ever experienced. The congestion he’d created from stifling was apparently eager to be released, and everything came flying out at an alarming rate at the slightest provocation. He soaked through tissue after tissue as he sneezed and sneezed and sneezed, needing only a few breaths of the candle to keep himself going. 

Several minutes later he felt significantly emptier, and at last he allowed the sneezing to taper to a stop with a final, tremendous nose blow. Completely exhausted, he let his throbbing head fall back. His nose was much better, but everything else was worse. He couldn't keep from groaning, both from relief and self-pity. 

He felt the couch shift as Tiffani sat down beside him. Her cool hand on his burning face made him moan again as she brushed the damp hair from his forehead.

"Feeling better now?" she murmured. 

He made a non-committal noise. 

"Poor thing. You are so, so sick honey," she cooed. "You're absolutely burning up. You just rest now. I've got you."

Too tired to resist, when she gently pulled him to lay against her chest, he allowed it. Sitting mostly upright kept him from coughing too much, anyway. He found he was very comfortable this way, especially when he realized she was playing with his hair. In no time, lulled by her soothing touch and soothing breathing and soothing heartbeat, he was fast asleep. 

[sesshy380]

No fever today, just some lingering muscle aches and still stuffed up sinuses. Looked over yesterday's writing, and surprisingly there was little to fix. No idea how I managed that lol

We'll see how today goes.

[one-blaze-of--glory]

what if i wrote Howard the duck fanfiction.

[hypocratic]

writing this freak makes me full body sweat.

[eyeless-smiles]

Time 2 tackle the askbox 😎

[deathxproof]

I know this is like The Only Time I’ve Begun Writing For Real on the new blog but I feel compelled to say that I cannot come close to guaranteeing any quality of writing for the next like. Week.

I’m certainly not responsible for what the Fever writes.

[queen-of-the-weenies]

Liurnia of the Lakes

You are a Tarnished. Your name holds no importance. Your only companion is a ghostly steed named Torrent, and the constant faint sensation of someone watching over you.

You wander a world where nearly everything wants to kill you, but the world is also gorgeous and full of vibrant life.

You travel through a misty lakeland area, where the water reaches no higher than your shins. There are unsettling ghouls accompanied by the delicate chime of bells; hellish giant crayfish that spit jets of water with frightening accuracy; there is even a dragon breathing bright blue flames. All are eager to tear you apart if they see you.

You have wandered for hours--days, even--and your resting places are few and far between. Exhausted, you finally find a new path and leave the shallow waters of the lake to traverse the shore. It's raining, as it has been raining since you arrived, shrouding the entire area in frigid fog. You've managed to survive this far, you just need a site of grace to rest at, lest you die and be sent back to the last one. As you climb the path, the only sound you hear is the squelch of your footsteps and the gentle woosh of rain and wind.

And then, you hear something else.

Ever so faintly, a voice drifts through the mist. You stop, because your own muted footsteps are loud enough to drown it out. You listen intently, wondering if you only imagined it. The rain pours, the wind blows, the trees rustle--no more singing. You continue forward.

The voice returns, slightly louder. You can make out the haunting melody of a song in an unfamiliar language, echoing eerily through the lonely mist. This time you do not stop. You're curious now. Where is that voice coming from? Is it another person, a Tarnished like you? Briefly, the notion of a fellow Tarnished singing so beautifully lifts your weary spirits.

The path crests over a hill, and as you come up from behind some rocks, you see it. Bats. Large, ugly creatures that screech and swoop and tear you apart... But they aren't screeching now. No, the bats are calm, resting on the ground or nesting on rocks, surrounding an unfamiliar figure. It's also a bat, but it's human-faced and pale, and it's singing the haunting melody that drew you to it in the first place. Entranced, you creep closer, crouched low and moving slowly. You want to be closer, to join the bats in their restful enjoyment of the beautiful, sad song.

And then the bats notice you, the song stops, and you get eaten alive by like ten bats all at once.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Any fancy temperature words? Like replacements for hot, cold and whatever in between

Algid - cold

Arctic - bitter cold

Ardent - fiery, hot

Balmy - mild, temperate

Blazing - of outstanding power, speed, heat, or intensity

Calenture - a fever formerly supposed to affect sailors in the tropics

Cryogenic - being or relating to very low temperatures

Decalescence - the decrease in temperature when the rate of heat absorption during transformation exceeds the rate of heat input while heating metal through a transformation range

Febrile - marked or caused by fever; feverish

Febrility - feverishness

Fervent - very hot; glowing

Fervid - very hot; burning

Frigid - intensely cold

Frore - frosty, frozen

Frosty - briskly cold; chilly

Gelid - extremely cold; icy

Glacial - extremely cold

Hibernal - of, relating to, or occurring in winter

Hyperthermic - exceptionally high fever especially when induced artificially for therapeutic purposes

Hypothermic - subnormal temperature of the body

Igneous - of, relating to, or resembling fire; fiery

Lukewarm - moderately warm; tepid

Molten - having warmth or brilliance

Pyrexia - abnormal elevation of body temperature; fever

Recalescence - the increase in temperature when the rate of heat liberation during transformation exceeds the rate of heat dissipation while cooling metal through a transformation range

Rigorous - marked by extremes of temperature or climate

Rime - frost

Scalding - hot enough to scald

Searing - very hot

Steamy - hot and humid

Tepid - moderately warm; lukewarm

Thermogenic - relating to, caused by, or inducing the production of heat

Torrid - giving off intense heat; scorching

Wintry - of, relating to, or characteristic of winter; chilly

Xerothermic - characterized by heat and dryness

Hope this helps with your writing. Do tag me, or send me a link. I'd love to read your work!

More: Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[froginmygarden]

Got a little brain worm on the way home and have a need to write it down. Just a drabble because I'm not good at writing.

DC x DP Just a (clone) couple

Joung Adult!Team Phantom for some reason end up in the DC universe. For reasons, there aren't any equivalents of them here. Danny and Sam are together and Danny and Dani have a familiar relationship. Whatever the reasons they stay in this universe.

So Sam, Danny and Dani start making a life together as a family, Tucker goes on to make a "small business" involving VPN's and tech in general (finds an anthropomorphic girlfriend on the way or something), Jazz goes to uni (JL members city of choice, although I advise against Gotham or Metropolis, because that would make this too short).

For some MORE reasons unknown, although they might be by the making of our favourite clock-man, the DP people's DNA has by default markings of being clones in DC (I don't know if this is canon or fanon but Connor had something like that ╮⁠(⁠＾⁠▽⁠＾⁠)⁠╭). The thing is here Jack = Bruce, Maddy = Alexander and Jeremy = Clark, Pamela = Lois! Do you see my vision here??

So *JL member from the perspective city* meets the Fenton/Manson/Nightingale?? family accidentally when they are visiting Jazz, and has a sweet deja vu moment. Some time passes and the off handedly mention it to someone in the JL.

Batman being the paranoid bastard that he is goes on to check this thing out, because he can smell the fish from a mile away. Thinks the couple are clones, gets very paranoid again and starts making plans, plans get found by his kids, kids tell the JL and friends. So starts the collective discussions of what should they do, some say that they should get rid of the clones, some others that they don't have proof for anything nefarious and shouldn't do anything at all, someone points out that they have literally showed up out of nowhere and that it is reasonable to be suspicious. And Connor is also there.

Meanwhile Team Phantom is going about their lives like normal, but with a "I know that you know" mindset, and don't really bother with hiding themselves.

In my opinion the part that has to be the most glaringly noticeable about them should be that Danny (Batman's clone apparently) should wear a lot of flannel and have a "Midwestern Nice" personality" (the stuff of legends I have only heard about in passing) and over all should resemble Clark in fashion sense. For Sam (Superman's clone apparently) the exact opposite - she can put the GOTH in Gotham.

And all JL angst/drama/confusion happens in the background as we follow Connor Kent's/Superboy's POV and him dealing with having two half siblings and the half siblings being together and them having a child and this is too much for him oooooooooo noooooooo nononoonononoonononononno what in the sweeet home Alabama whhhhhyyyyyyyy!??!

So it's like a metronome tick's between the POVs of fluffy new life/potential threat to the JL I mean the child of Bruce/Lex and child Clark/Luis having potential super-smart, super-powered (potentially evil??) children. But overall it's crack.

Maybe I'll plan it out and actually try to write it, but meanwhile you can enjoy my half-ill/fever induced brain worms and play in the brown dirt puddle I call my creative thinking.

To who ever finished reading this

Good night! ;P

[pygmi-says-hi]

writing tips - sick/poisoning fics

so since you guys ate up the injury thing like holy fuck 1.5k notes in 24 hours??? hello?? I thought I'd do a semi-related one about sickness.

disclaimer because you guys thoroughly reminded me of this: medicine is fucking weird and everybody reacts differently. this is blanket statement information, not the mayo clinic. idc that 'oh my cousin had that disease and he didn't have that symptom' okay whatever like sorry but that's not the point of this post. this is just to eliminate egregious mistakes. I'm not looking into every possible way this illness will show up. chill your tits. the comments on the last post were just like. dude. chill.

aurkay so.

poison-related illness.

okay poisoning is such a cool concept and there are literally so many cool effects it can have. Idk why everyone goes with the holy trinity of hallucinations, fainting and nausea. like yeah those are good but there are so many other things???

like internal bleeding. literally the best. I love it. It's slow but hella deadly and sometimes people can't even feel it/don't know what's happening. that's such a great option for whump or some angst. like they didn't know until it was too late. gold.

also - some poisons are not dissolvable in food or drink. Like certain medicines, they lose effectiveness if digested instead of injected intravenously. obviously you don't have to know that but if you wanna get into it, do a lil bit of research. could bring up some intriguing scenarios.

infection or sepsis

yoooo. sepsis is lowkey terrifying. infections are similar to actual illness but are caused because of an unsanitary wound. lots of interesting symptoms to browse here:

fever, cramps, fainting, hallucinations, dehydration, delirium, nausea, sores, sepsis, organ failure and on and on and on.

infection happens so fast too. like forget to change a bandage once and boom it could be infected. (is that a whump opportunity I hear...?)

sepsis is like the point of no return pretty much. Unless you've got crazy medical technology, sepsis is really really bad. basically, it's when the body overreacts and starts to damage its own tissue. leading to organ failure and then eventually death. spooky.

regular illness

this just means like a virus or something. a key point of viruses is an elevated temperature and dehydration; the body's primary responses. burn the bug out and dehydrate it.

depending on the illness, symptoms will vary. respiratory infections or viruses involve congestion, coughing, sore throats, a rattly breathing sound, and productive coughing (phlegm and mucus). Stomach illnesses include cramps, nausea, dehydration, dizziness, low blood sugar, weight loss, and diarrhea. these can overlap but mostly those are the groupings.

with fevers come achy joints and sensitive skin. fever is inflammation, like mild swelling everywhere because of how intense the antibody reaction is.

dehydration sets in really quick. really bad dehydration induces dizziness, nausea, diarrhea, delirium, lethargy, and fainting. great motivation for a whumper to possibly restrict whumpee's water intake...?

just some prompts! kinda low energy today sorry I haven't been posting, xox

[teine-mallaichte]

We need to expand our use of dilirium within the whump community I think.

When people see the prompt "dilirium" or "dilirious" in a whump event most jump to fever, illness, infection. And that's fine. That's valid. But there is SO MUCH MORE to dilirium.

Delirium is a complex psychological state that can indeed be triggered by illness and fever, but it can also result from a wide array of other causes. It’s a state where cognition and coherence deteriorate, where reality may start to frey at the edges leaving the whumpee confused, disorientated, maybe unable to even distinguish reality.

You can drive a character into a dilirious state without any external factors. A characters cognition and coherence can be picked to the brink by so many things.

1. Extreme Sleep Deprivation: this is a favourite of mine. A whumpee kept awake for days on end, their cognitive functions begin to deteriorate, the boundary between wakefulness and sleep blurs, leading to fractured and disjointed thought processes. The mind starts to struggle to maintain coherence, resulting in hallucinations and a profound disorientation.

2. Substance Withdrawal: Not one I've explored much, but can totally count. The body and mind in chaos, craving what they can no longer have. The physical symptoms can be brutal, but the psychological torment can drive them into a state of delirium, where reality becomes a shifting, unreliable landscape.

3. Psychological Torture: Another one I tend to gravitate to. Intense psychological manipulation, sensory deprivation or overwhelm can also drive the mind into delirium. Continuous gaslighting, isolation, or exposure to disturbing stimuli can erode a characters grasp on reality, leading to a state where they can no longer distinguish between truth and illusion.

4. Emotional Trauma: this a mental breakdown. Severe emotional trauma pushing a whumpee into a to their mental limits. The overwhelming stress and fear fracturing their mind, causing confusion, disorientation, dissociation, hallucinations as their psyche tries to protect itself and struggles to make sweetheart if what's happened/happening.

5. Overwhelming Physical Pain: Pain, just pain, if relentless and severe enough, can lead to delirium. A whumpee in constant, excruciating pain might find their mind breaking under the strain, leading to confusion, disorientation, and a detachment from reality.

6. Fever: and just because it can't really be left of the list, fever. Infections, illness, etc. But did you know there is more than one kind of dilirium? Yes there is the sick whumpee who is too weak too most and admits all their insecurities and secrets in a slurred disjointed major. But there is also the type of dilirium where the character becomes energetic, erratic behavior, pacing incessantly and speaking rapidly, refusing to rest. Frustrating and worrying for those trying to help.

And this is just the ones of the top of my head. There's so much potential here! And yes this is a very self indulgent and selfish post that I wrote while writing a fic where I am inducing dilirium in a character through acute stress and an identity crisis 😅 but in short - I want to see more varied portrayals of dilirium in whump.

An extension of this post A similar post about hallucinations A similar post about fever

[hyunjins3rdleg]

🍸 What’s Your Poison?🍸

Hi,I’m A—Jay! Nice to meet you,honey🩷

• Bbygirl of ‘01

• March🌷Pisces Princess

• Somehow managing to work a big girl job in the real world of the USA

Just vibin’ & thrivin’ on my new little blog sharing my cute little ideas with cute little strangers.

(That’s you, babe. You’re the cute stranger💋)

*Hwang Hyunjin bias based!*

(But you’ll see me reblog all the boys!!)

Join me for Happy Hour Gossip!

I’m open to request or a chat if you’d like to giggle,rant,or cry with me!

*Request🔒:fake text(predominately),drabbles,au prompts,etc(I have more time for shorter fics)

*I will not write member x member or poly(just not into that,sorry)incest/step siblings, taboo/hardcore themes, include the members’ real life family, and I will politely decline your request if it’s something I am not comfortable with writing or speaking on :)

*Stray Kids are real people & therefore everything below is completely fictional. This doesn’t reflect who they truly are in any way, shape, or form. I am not trying to misconstrue who they are in real life.

Don’t forget to touch grass,babe <3

✨Everyone’s welcome at Stay’s Bar✨

(especially my fellow Black stays🤎)

**MDNI & SFW Rules**

Minors(16+)are free to interact with my blog as long as you keep it cute & appropriate.

*SFW* Fics are safe for the younger stays and will usually only have profanity listed as the main warning.

*MDNI* Fics are self explanatory and should not be interacted with unless you are 18+

Keep it cute or get blocked <3

Angst⛈️/🌩️; Fluff🧸; Smut/Suggestive🔥

FWB!Hyunjin Text Series 🧸⛈️🔥 (MDNI)

A late night text accidentally sent to one of the artist you’re working with leads to a half a year long agreement and Hyunjin wants more…

(fwb to lovers)(IdolxMusic Producer!Reader)

Before You Ruined My Outfit? 🌩️🧸 (SFW)

Han Jisung is your childhood best friend and his attempt at playing Cupid goes horribly wrong somehow thanks to Hyunjin…

Fix Your Face, Please! 🧸🌩️ (MDNI)

Hyunjin’s very vocal about how jealous & possessive he can get, and although it can get troublesome you find it kind of hot…

We Were On Break!! 🌩️🧸 (SFW)

Your ex boyfriend, Hyunjin, has a hard time accepting the end of your relationship and is very persistent on getting back together…

Corporate Gang 🧸 (MDNI)

JYP Co. gets a new IT-Agent and you can’t help but gush about him to your favorite coworkers…

(Nerdy,shy!Hyunjin Series)

Take Your Friends Out ⛈️🧸 (pt.1 ) (MDNI)

Your boyfriend has stood you up 3x this month and you decide that you’re done with being second place. Of course he disagrees…

Don’t Say That To Me ⛈️ (pt 2.) (MDNI)

Months after you took Hyunjin back you have to face the tough reality of falling out of love with him and end things for good…

Stress Induced Fever 🧸 (SFW)

Your job has decided to transfer you to their USA branch for a year and Hyunjin is failing miserably at holding himself together before you leave…

Sad Nudes? 🧸 (MDNI)

You’ve had a shit day and Hyunjin tries his best to cheer you up thousands of miles away…

I Love You. Now Date Me! 🧸🌩️ (SFW)

Your bestfriend has been jokingly telling you he’s in love with you for years only for you to find out it’s not a joke…and oh yeah, he HATES your boyfriend…

Babe, I Broke It 🧸 (SFW)

Hyunjin broke your brand new coffee mug and he’s taking it harder than you are (soft bbyboy)…

I Really Like You, Like Romantically 🔥🧸(MDNI)

Your best friend asks you for an insane favor of helping him lose his virginity and discovers his feelings in the process…

I Will Win! Fighting!🔥🧸 (MDNI)

You and Hyunjin make a friendly bet to survive No Nut November and despite his persistent confidence on winning, he eventually gives in…

Emergency Contact ⛈️ (SFW)

You and Hyunjin had a mutual breakup over a year ago, but apparently he forgot to remove you as his emergency contact and feelings are revisted…

Safe,Loved,& Accepted ⛈️ (SFW)

Bang Chan has been making light of the nasty comments you’ve been getting online until you are put in a sticky situation and he’s worried sick a thousand of miles away…

Have You Always Been This Hot?? 🔥🧸 (MDNI)

Attempting to survive No Nut November with your best friend Chan brings forth feelings neither of you knew existed…and really good sex…

I Just Want To Help ⛈️ (SFW)

Your ex Hyunjin takes it upon himself to help you with financial difficulties after months of no contact, but he never expected you to fight him every step of the way…

Wanna See It Up Close? 🔥🧸 (MDNI)

You always jokingly try to convince your best friend to get laid and he jokingly tells you to take his virginity (except it’s not a joke)…

I Hate You. All Of You. 🌩️ (SFW)

A sneaky picture brings your relationship and trust crashing down and he refuses to let it all go over a stupid misunderstanding….

Keeping Secrets 🌩️ (SFW)

Felix’s antics leaves Hyunjin an over dramatic mess and it takes an entire week before he confronts you about the secret you’ve been hiding…

Is This A Trick Question? 🌩️🧸 (SFW)

It’s not a secret that Hyunjin’s perusing you romantically, but despite returning his feelings your past relationship holds you back. Little did you know Hyunjin was just what you needed to try at love again…

Model!Hyunjin Text Series 🧸🔥(SFW/MDNI)

At the height of his career, Hwang Hyunjin goes down the road nearly every 24 year old with fame in the public eye does - sex, money, and rebellion. You accepted a job set up by his parents to get his reputation and career back on track, and you’ve known no peace since thanks to your very clingy (and unashamedly in love) client…

(ModelxAssistant!Reader)(grumpy gf,sunshine bf)

[makeyoumine69]

Hi! I wish you further growth and inspiration!

My choice is pussy eating and sex toys.

Good luck! 💦💦💦

Fever

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: You love going out and having dinner with Patrick, but not when his friends come along, they always make you feel so uncomfortable and insecure. Good thing he has his own ways of reassuring you, right?

CONTAINS: Smut, established relationship, sex toys, oral (both receiving), unprotected sex (p in v), Daddy kink, Praise kink, Degradation kink, pet names, a lot of cum, nipple play, choking, biting, slight dacryphilia, humiliation, dirty talk, Patrick being a manipulative dickhead.

WORDS: 3.2k

SONG REC: Babydoll x the Perfect Girl 

A/N: This day finally came, and I finished my first writing challenge, which I started to celebrate my 200 followers! Thank you so much, guys, for standing by my side. I love you and I hope you like it!🖤

LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [BWC MASTERLIST] 💗

Dorsia, just the mention of the name of that establishment was enough to make Batman frown and clench his jaw in annoyance. Nonetheless, that was the exact place you and him wanted to spend that evening, and when you finally took your seats at the best table in Dorsia, Patrick's face was like a wax statue, it was impossible to read any of his emotions.

Tim, Craig, David and their bimbos couldn’t stop rumbling even for one second and that actually annoyed Bateman, but on the other hand he used it as an opportunity to whisper filthy things right into your ear, taking advantage of the fact that no one else was paying attention due to the ruckus.

“Did my good girl do her homework while I was away?” He nuzzled against your neck, and you fidgeted on your chair uncomfortably, feeling embarrassed. “I can’t wait until we get alone.”

“I bet you do.” You reply shortly, without breaking eye contact with him.

Pleased, Patrick leaned on the chair back, his sly smile speaking for itself. Sneakily, he placed his palm on your knee to play with the hem of your cocktail dress, only to tease you and induce you to try closing your legs. With a muffled gasp, you caught his dexterous hand just at the moment everyone looked at both of you.

"So, Bateman. How was your business trip?" Craig asked with a cheeky grin. "Did you enjoy LA? I hear the chicks there are pretty hot."

The men started laughing together as if they shared the same brain cell, and you used that moment to brush Patrick's palm away, which actually made him a little upset, so he paused and coughed a little.

"McDermott, you can go to LA and see everything with your own eyes!" Patrick scoffed and took a sip of his drink. "I don't want to give any spoilers."

Sighing, you pulled yourself together as you repeated to yourself over and over again that you wouldn't let their childish behavior get under your skin. The girls — models, supposedly — looked at each other in frustration, but neither Bateman nor his colleagues seemed to care.

"God, Bateman! Now I'm intrigued!" McDermott chuckled before lighting his cigarette. 

With a mischievous smirk, Patrick hugged your shoulders when he saw a glimpse of sadness in your beautiful, big eyes, and you couldn't help but smile timidly at David's comment:

"Look at them, just two lovebirds." 

"Oh, shut up," Bateman blurted out jokingly. "Being jealous isn't a good thing." 

Van Patten rolled his eyes at Patrick's remark, but immediately lost interest when the girl next to him leaned down to his neck and whispered something.

"Patrick?" You called his name so softly that it elicited a muffled gasp from his broad chest.

"Yes, dear?" He replied, looking at you lovingly and moving even closer so that you could whisper in his ear.

"When are we going home?"

"Do you want to go?" He 'accidentally' touched your cheek with his perfectly shaped nose, making your heart skip a beat.

"No, I was just asking."

"It's not a problem, honey." Bateman leaned even closer to kiss the area behind your ear. "Besides. I'm starving."

"But we just ate." You almost squealed when he discreetly pinched your thigh under the table, his dark grin sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him.

“You know what I mean, babydoll.” He crooned in a low voice, not giving a fuck about how attentively his coworkers were looking at both of you.

“I–” You wanted to talk back to him, but he suddenly cut you off, standing up and removing the napkin from his knees.

“Gentlemen, sorry, but we have to go.” 

“So soon? What happened, Bateman?” Craig tried to sound sassy, but when he didn’t get any attention, his face went plain.

“Don’t worry, McDermott. We will get back to our conversation one day.” Patrick winked at him and offered you a hand, expecting you to take it. When you did, he pressed a brief kiss on the back of your hand.

Tim whistled at the sight and you ignored him, but you couldn't stop Patrick from shamelessly grabbing your ass as you two were leaving.

“Have fun, Bateman. But don’t make your neighbors call the cops.” Bryce added, making everyone laugh. Frowning, you looked at Patrick, expecting him to say something that would calm his coworkers down.

“I’ll call them if you don’t return those porn videotapes I gave you last week.” Bateman crooned with a cheeky smile and after that, he led you to the exit, so you could only catch a glimpse of Timothy’s blank face before you eventually left Dorsia.

In the taxi you both remained silent. You couldn't help but feel a little offended by the way his colleagues behaved, and the thing you hated the most was that you knew that if you told Patrick about it, he would just shrug it off and say that there was nothing special about it.

"Honey?" Bateman suddenly interrupted your train of thoughts with his playful voice, as if he could read your mind. Sometimes it was even scary how perfectly he could sense your mood.

"You have terrible friends, you know that?" You replied, disregarding his flirtatious tone.

With a cocky chuckle, he wrapped his hand around your shoulder when he saw you crossing your arms defensively over your chest. 

"Well, I know they're not the greatest people..." He paused, wondering what to say to cheer you up.

"And I don't like it when you treat me like I'm one of those stupid bimbos," you finally turned to him and pushed his hand away harshly. "How many times do I have to explain this to you and—"

His tight grip on your throat made you choke for air, and you nearly shrieked at his unexpected roughness.

"I think you've forgotten who's in charge here, little girl." Patrick growled into your ear, and you thanked God that the partition in the taxi was closed. "How many times have I told you I don't like this kind of attitude?"

Closing your eyes, you whimpered from lack of oxygen and tried to say something, but he didn't even give you the chance to do it as he covered your mouth with his greedy one. Bateman reveled in all your muffled, pitiful sounds, kissing you hard while his other hand slipped under your dress to possessively get a handful of your soaked pussy. Damn it! Instead of being scared, you were so fucking aroused and that only made the whole situation worse, because after Patrick let go of you, he sneered in the most arrogant way and brought his long fingers, coated in your flavor, to his lips to taste it.

"Don't ever compare yourself to those bitches," he reminded you, fixing the hem of your dress and gently stroking your leg; his face softened as he let out a disappointed sigh. "After all, I missed you so much, (y/n). And I thought you missed me, too."

"I missed you, I really did!" You panicked a little. Patrick was such a master of manipulation, a few moments ago you had accused him and his friends of having bad manners, and now you felt guilty about making that scene.

"So why did we have this shitty conversation about my colleagues and their whores instead of talking about us?" Patrick replied in a challenging tone, his big palm was still on your knee, but this time you didn't dare to brush it away.

"Because it makes me sad!" You blurted out and looked at him, now staring at the scenery through the taxi window.

"Fine, I won't take you to dinners like these anymore." His annoyed voice echoed in your ears, and you couldn't help but feel your heart breaking at his comment. You lowered your head down and cried, barely audible, but somehow Bateman immediately noticed.

"Are you crying, (y/n)? Seriously?" 

"Patrick, maybe I should go home? I don't feel well and I don't want to disappoint you with—"

"Enough of this bullshit, okay?" He suddenly pressed you against his chest, letting you hug him around his waist. "I'm not letting you go, not now, not ever."

Where was your good mood and that sparkle that set your body on fire when you were in the restaurant? God, you hated yourself for acting like that, but his friends — those stupid yuppies — always made you sick to the stomach, but this time you really had lost your patience. And even though you calmed down now and hid your face in the crook of Patrick's neck, the tension between the two of you was still in the air, and you didn't really know what to expect when you arrived at his place.

After almost an hour, you were sitting on his big bed, completely naked and still shivering — you could still feel his touch on your most sensitive spots as Bateman had just washed you in the bathtub, rubbing and massaging you everywhere.

When you heard a soft click of the bedroom door, you raised your eyes to see him coming in, a glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigar in the other, his red tie loosened and some of the top buttons undone.

"How do you feel, babydoll?" Patrick asked you teasingly, shaking the glass in his hand and leaning against the door.

You swallowed hard when his super dark eyes glided over your exposed curves, and you had to hold back your rapid breathing, because you were so damn excited. " Much better, thank you."

Bateman let out a low chuckle before placing his drink on the shelf and coming a little closer to you, puffing on his cigar.

"Good," he smiled and blew a few rings of smoke. "Now show Daddy how you learned to use my gift."

His words forced the blood in your veins to curse faster, making your skin burn from the inside out. With a loud gasp, you lay on the bed, leaning on your elbows and spreading your legs wide, so he could see your succulent pussy.

As soon as you did so, Bateman clenched his chiseled jaw and almost bit down on the cigar, but he kept watching your little hand slide between your thighs, and when it reached your soaped slit, he couldn't help but growl — he'd been rock hard all this time, but now it was getting really painful.

"P-Patrick, I'm scared..." you whimpered abruptly, taking the pink silicone dildo — the one that has been laying beside you on the bed — and rubbing it along your taut lower lips to lubricate it. "It's so embarrassing."

"Oh, I know, honey. I know," he purred in his usual seductive voice, and unbuttoned his blue shirt. "But you don't have to be embarrassed. Trust me, baby, Daddy knows what's best for you."

Damn, that was too much.

Gulping and closing your eyes, you threw your head back and tried to let it go, placing the dildo at your dripping entrance, and the next second you cried out from the feeling of fullness as you pushed it deep into your womb.

"Such a good girl."

"D-Daddy!" You let out a high-pitched wail, focusing on his raspy voice as you were too embarrassed to open your eyes.

"Go on," Bateman exhaled sharply, putting the cigar in the ashtray, and then he unzipped his pants, his hot flesh literally pulsating. "You make Daddy so proud."

"Mhhm," his words made you arch your back, and you began to pump yourself with the sex toy, sensing a tight knot forming in your lower abdomen. "Pat-Patrick, please… talk to me!"

He didn't answer at first as he continued to undress, slowly stroking his engorged cock. "Ahhh, this is so fucking sweet," Patrick grunted, smearing his pre-cum around his swollen tip. "Can't do anything without my guidance, am I right, my babydoll?"

"Awww—yes," you gasped, your legs already shaking. "N-need you, Daddy! Need you so much…!"

At that moment, you didn't care about anything in the world, just the buzzing feeling in your core. There was only one person who could give you that vital release you needed so desperately, and you were more than ready to beg him if he asked you to.

"You know what," Bateman murmured as he finally undressed and joined you on the bed, and when you felt his big palm on your hip, you thought you were going to combust, but he gently stroked your cheek, soothing you a little, whispering: "Shh, my little one. Not yet."

You literally writhed on the sheets like a trapped kitten, afraid to breathe, afraid to say anything that would ruin this moment. 

"Patrick..."

"Yes, dear... I'm here," he covered your hand with his bigger one, pushing the dildo even deeper, making you scream. "That's it, that's how you do it!"

"Awww, oh my GOD!" you tried to close your legs as the friction became too intense and Bateman just snickered at your pathetic attempt to stop him, so he just grabbed your throat and yanked it a little against the bed. "D-Daddy, it hurts!"

"Oh yeah?" Patrick couldn't hide his excitement when he saw your eyes watering, but his inner beast craved more. "I really wanted to be nice to you today, but you made me change my mind."

"Ahhh!" You clawed at his hand, which was choking you hard, but this man was too strong. "I'm... I'm s-sorry! I'M SO SORRY!"

The way he shoved the dildo into your bruised cunt was so fucking brutal that for one second you blacked out as the apex of it hit your cervix pretty brutally.

When you opened your eyes and yours met his, all you could see was lust mixed with rage. Huffing, Bateman suddenly moved down to your face to nip at your lips, then suck them and lick your cheekbone as he relished having such control over you. With a devilish grin, he continued to squeeze your neck, forcing you to fuck yourself with the dildo that was now completely covered in your juices.

"Do you hear that sound?" He taunted you, hovering over you and pressing you down with his massive muscles. "You're dripping like a fucking waterfall! So don't try to pretend you're not enjoying it, slut!" 

"I'm going to explode!" Was all you could manage to scream as your whole body tensed like a spring.

"Awww, you're going to cum from fucking yourself with a cheesy sex toy, what a pathetic little whore!" Patrick almost barked these words in your face, but then he suddenly released your neck and went down to your collarbone, leaving wet, red marks here and there. "Keep going and don't you dare stop!"

Your eyes rolled back in your head when his wet tongue began to play with your swollen nipples, not to mention when he took one of them into his mouth and sucked it so eagerly that you cried out in pain. Trembling, you let him use your hand to set the pace, your inner walls aching every time the dildo brushed hard against them. 

When Bateman noticed that your little frame was quivering too much, he quickly slipped down between your legs to suck on your clit and holy shit, he was so good at it, he definitely knew what he was doing.

"I—mhm, I'm gonna cum… Daddy, p-pleaseeee!" You were no longer moaning — at this point you were literally screaming, and your throat was burning, but that only spurred him on to eat you more fiercely.

"Mmmm, I've been thinking about tasting this pussy," he tugged on your sensitive bud before swirling his tongue around it. "For so fucking long."

Another deep thrust, followed by his merciless lapping at your oversensitive cunt, made your orgasm wash over you like a huge ocean wave. Shaking, your half-opened mouth froze in a silent cry as all your insides spasmed too intensely, and this sensation lasted so long that you almost fainted.

"Jesus, what a dirty girl you are," Patrick chuckled after he pulled away from your pussy and removed the dildo, his face covered in your wetness, it was literally running down his chin. "Look at that, you fucking cummed all over my face!" He forced you to look at him, and your dazed glance coaxed a loud chuckle from him. "You think I'm done with you?" 

"I..." You tried desperately to pull yourself together, but the overstimulation hit you so hard that your brain refused to function at all.

"Yes, I'm talking to you!" 

"Aww, w-wait!" You wailed loudly as he grasped your head and forced you closer to the edge of the bed. "Daddy!"

"Don't you 'Daddy' me," his ominous intonation was kinda scary, but you had no choice but to submit. "Don't worry, honey... I'm just going to play with your mouth a little..."

With a quick thrust, he pushed himself into your mouth, since you didn't really have any power to protest. Although it would have been pointless to do it anyway. You expected him to face fuck you really hard, but instead Bateman gently took your chin for support as his hips began to move faster, petting your head each time his red, swollen tip hit your throat.

"Arghh, your mouth feels so good, I missed that."

Patrick stroked your cheek almost lovingly, ignoring the way that you were almost gagging on his thick cock, savoring his cum and keeping eye contact with him. Grunting, he didn't last long as he collapsed into your mouth, rolling his hips and spilling his sticky liquid deep down your throat, and you didn't make any pathetic sounds, no whimpering or sobbing — you just took what he gave you. With your eyes closed, you drank him dry and heard him murmur:

"For now, I forgive you."

Slowly, Bateman pulled out from your abused mouth, leaving a trail of his cum and letting a few drops fall on your breasts.

"Clean them," he pointed at your tits, pumping his still hard cock and watching you catch the drops of his cum with your fingers. "Now get on your knees and spread your legs wide."

Whimpering, you obeyed and Patrick didn't waste any time, positioning himself behind you and wrapping his strong hands around your waist. 

"Ahhh, Patrick..."

"Shush," he cut you off, rubbing his creamy cock between your ass cheeks. "I'm not going to fuck you in the ass, even though you really deserve it."

He rammed into your aching pussy without any mercy, stretching you even more from the inside and making you cry, your hands helplessly creasing the sheets beneath you.

"IT HURTS! AW!" You squealed as he pinned you down, forcing you to lie on your stomach as he trapped you under his massive body, relentlessly drilling your little hole.

"What? My dick is way bigger than that dildo, huh?" Bateman mocked you shamelessly, the slapping sound your bodies made was like music to his ears. "Ohh, what a poor little girl… mmhhm… I promise you… by the end of this night you will be so fucking full of my cum — that it will pour out, but I won’t stop… even if you beg me to!"

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞