#I am gently rotating this option

[stylographic-blue-rhapsody]

so. how many of us are going to play kieran ofthewilds as the rook in dav

[ahhhwomen]

How did R’s react when he ate sweets for the first time and how did Natasha and Wanda react?

a/n: I am very close to calling this its own chapter given the fact that it is 4.5k and I lost my mind trying to write it. Is it good? I don't know. Did I proff read it? Fuck no, I'm over this shit. Anyway, enjoy the girlie's first kiss ig.

Contains slight spoilers for unreleased chapters of Vampire Empire

Warning: Implied force-feeding, talk of vomit, food anxiety, gay simps

The goop inside your bowl is scarcely edible.

At least that’s what you think, not that it matters, you don’t have opinions.

Half of it clings to the sides of your bowl, strangely solid yet somehow entirely liquid, the other half of the sustenance is spilled and hanging off the bent metal��s side. The closer it gets to midnight, the worse it looks.

A whimper echoes against hollow walls and joins the wails of fellow prisoners as the shattering pain inside your jaw bares its ugly teeth at the thought of creaking itself open for the sludge that could be mistaken for concrete.

In the first few hours, it had a color close to desirable. Now, the color reminds you more of the ground stained with your bodily fluids, because much like your blood, dried grab slathers itself against the cold outside of your bowl.

Picture perfect representation of your life story: desired, if only for a moment.

The scarce portion left on the inside is like a heap of coagulated blood, it jiggles and splatters against the metal beside your cracked hands. You could almost swear it has a pulse of its own. Gasping for the same chilled air that burns your lungs, the traumatizing, grey, something, moves up and down- breathing.

Footsteps of a handler emit in the empty air, heavy like the raging rain, the clash of his boots forces you to move faster. Much like a hurt deer, you drag your body across the ground until you are close enough to grasp the cool metal and force its insides down your closing throat.

Your broken jaw shrieks and cracks as you use both your hands to split it open with a sickening crunch.

If only they cut away your sense of smell too, that way you might not gag as much while the thick liquid, with the stench of a dead body, gurgles itself down your throat. It's like swallowing a handful of sand mixed with the guts of a diseased fish.

At this point, starving yourself would be the better option, but there was no point. Unless you wanted a tube stuck down your throat tonight, you would have to stomach it yet another day.

Manicured nails wrap around the delicate throat of a wine glass. Red liquid, which will never quench her thirst, swirls gently as she rotates her wrist in a circular motion. The glass is chilled and smooth against her fingertips, a soothing distraction from her twisting thoughts.

It's almost humorous, most would be concerned if their pet didn’t eat, yet here she was, concerned that you did.

A frustrated sigh builds within her, crawling up her stomach until she has to fight the air she breathes, in an attempt to not startle you as you rest beside her outstretched feet. It's not that she wasn’t happy you ate her food, or that your lack of pickiness angered her, it was just weird.

No matter what she put in front of you, you would eat it but rarely look like you enjoyed it. Even the most lavish of meals would be regarded with horribly hidden cringing. With a sigh, Wanda leans forward slightly, being extra careful not to disturb you as she changes her position, she rests her elbow on the plush cushion to her left and mulls it over.

There had been multiple instances where you would end up serving the food right back up again after finally getting it down, a clear sign that you either didn’t like it or ate too much of it.

A frown settles over stern features at the memories.

Even after you would throw up, you would attempt to consume it again with a grim expression adoring your pale features. Luckily Wanda was always there to remove it before you could try a second time, but then you would look like a scolded child and hide yourself away for the rest of the day.

It's as if the very idea of leaving the damn food alone gave you a whole crisis.

So, that’s how she finds herself now, in dire need of a solution as your weight has been dropping rapidly due to the reverse your stomach so often does. She needs to find a way to make you understand that it's okay to dislike something and that it's also okay to express pleasure for certain foods.

With a huff, Wanda continues to swirl her wine gently, it swishes against the sides and glides into thick droplets before merging itself back into its voluminous state. The irony isn’t lost on the older redhead, she supposes it’s slightly amusing that the only drink she deems worthy of her time resembles her most addictive poison.

Drifting her gaze over to your sleeping form she can’t help but admire your neck for a moment, the smooth skin jumping up and down with the quirk of your sensitive pulse. Your vein is so close to her, ready at her disposal. Of course, she would never bite you, not until you were ready, yet she couldn’t help but fantasize every now and then…

Your heady taste coating her tongue and throat, Wanda inhales deeply as she watches you sleep, your scent burns like sweet bourbon. Much like your smell, she imagines your taste would be similar; rich, and sweet… Sweet.

Wanda almost has to refrain from an incredulous laugh as the thought strikes her like lightning, the most obvious choice of them all; sweets.

However, even with such a lethal weapon up her sleeve, there were still certain challenges that would follow.

Due to her preference for keeping your diet strict and healthy, she imagined you were quite unfamiliar with the concept of anything remotely sweet. She would have to do this carefully, not wanting food to become a point of stress for you, more than it already was, she needed to introduce the new taste with something you are familiar with.

Twirling the glass around Wanda stared down at the deep red in thought, her knitted sweater irked her slightly as it slid across her skin, following her motions. With a huff, she took a sip of her fruity wine, as it lathered itself against her tastebuds, a bolt struck her for the second time that night.

Fruits.

Wanda had seen Natasha attempt to introduce you to the foreign concept before. And though it ended with a rather grumpy you after Natasha tricked you into trying a lemon, you had seemed… happier with the simplicity of it rather than your dinners.

To be fair Natasha had only managed to convince you to try the simplest and most universal fruits, such as bananas and apples, and of course, that lemon- but that one also set Natasha’s progress back by a week as you refused to try anything else she offered you.

Wanda’s eyebrows knit as she thinks it over… so you do know how to deny food?

Then how come every time Wanda served you breakfast or dinner you would eat until you threw up?

Amid her deep loophole of theories, a cramp hit Wanda’s leg, unconsciously she moved it slightly to the left, toward you. It wasn’t until she watched your sleeping form arch away from her by instinct that she realized you truly don’t trust Wanda. At least not the way you do Natasha.

She really shouldn’t be surprised.. she had seen it endless times by now, but the idea that you would push your body to such lengths because of her was more devastating than she could ever imagine.

It pained her to think that you deemed force-feeding yourself the lesser evil of the situation.

Yet, that would have to be a problem to punish her mind with at a later date, the important thing now was to help bring stability to your life and diet. Even if you don’t trust her, you do seem to have some resemblance of trust toward Natasha, or well, at least after she swore never to trick you again, you do.

And though she can use that to her advantage, it doesn’t give an immediate resolution; Natasha was scarcely home before your bedtime and wouldn’t be able to serve you your breakfast or dinner, and it was important to Wanda that the routine they had built for you stayed solid as sudden change had caused quite a few mishaps in the past.

So, as the businesswoman Wanda is, she starts mentally preparing a game plan for tonight and sends a quick text to Natasha, asking her to pick up a little something before returning home.

If this worked in her favor, it could strengthen your trust in her, which would in return at least start the path to recover some of your weight.

A few hours later, you and Wanda had long since abandoned your napping spots on the couch in favor of slipping into your own corners of the house. The older woman in her office and you, most likely, under a piece of tucked away furniture where you knew you wouldn’t be disturbed.

The door opens with a silent twist of the expensive, vintage, handle. Natasha cringes as her boots drag across the carpet, she had warned Wanda against installing it right next to the main door, but her wife wasn’t easily persuaded. Sure enough, as soil splatters itself in distinctive Natasha-pressed footprints, Natasha knows she will be in trouble in about ten seconds.

1…

Nat discards her dirty work shoes on the little shelf to her left, leaving another muddy print on the metal.

2…

Fixing the grocery bag around her shoulder Natasha wonders what wicked plan Wanda has planned for the three of you tonight.

3…

The older redhead didn’t have to tell her wife that she was hashing out a plan, Natasha could figure it out just due to one of the items she was instructed to buy.

4…

It’s not as if her wife doesn’t like this item, it’s just that she never really requests it, and least of all so late and out of the blue.

5… 6… 7…

As the seconds tick by without a single sound from her wife, Natasha gets a little confused. Usually, Wanda would always be there to welcome her home and reprimand her for bringing in her dirty shoes.

8… 9…

Today, however, it seems her wife must be preoccupied with her little plan.

10.

“What have I told you about bringing your dirty shoes inside?”

Natasha almost jumps out of her skin when she feels the words breathe down her neck. Turning around in a millisecond, she sees Wanda smirk at her while she leans against the door.

“Jesus Wanda, you really have to stop doing that! One day I am going to have a heart attack!” Rich laughter travels through Natasha’s ears as Wanda sinks deeper against the door in her fit of indulgent giggles while she shakes her head at her wife’s spooked expression.  

Pushing herself away from the expensive oak, she slides her hands around her wife’s waist and nuzzles into Natasha’s neck, mouthing the words against her, “Darling, you don’t have a heart.” Natasha huffs but leans her head more to the left, giving Wanda space to kiss and bite as she sees fit.

“Not true…” The younger redhead mumbles it mostly to herself and Wanda simply hums against her as she drags the point of her canines slowly down from beneath Nat´s ear and down to her thoracic outlet.

Red, angry, lines form as she can’t help but add a little pressure behind the drag, feeling Nat’s pulse jump and hammer right beneath her tongue. Barley refraining from sinking her teeth in, Wanda releases Natasha with a sigh and one last kiss to the junction between her neck and shoulder.

Natasha attempts to lean back in hopes of gaining contact again, but there is no point. Before she can even blink, Wanda is halfway across the hallway, holding the bag Nat just had within her grasp.

“Not fair.” The younger woman whispers to herself and pretends not to see the smirk her wife sends her way.

Dark red heels click against the marble flooring as the rustle of plastic echoes within their space, “Find kitten and bring her to the living room, please.” The plea is more for show than anything, Wanda is more than aware that her wife can’t say no to her.

The grumbled, “Yes, ma’am”, is ignored as Wanda has already made her way out of sight before Natasha can get the words out.

With a huff and a quick check of her watch, Natasha makes her way upstairs to find the little culprit.

If anyone were to ask you, you would say Natasha Romanoff was a witch.

It’s the only palpable explanation as to how she always knows where you are, at least that’s what you think as you can hear her knock on the dresser you were napping under.

The bone knocks against the wood in a ticking manner, one knock, two knocks, and at last a rasp against the oak as she lets her hand drag across the dresser. It’s a heavy yet light sound that calls out to you as you are tempted to peek your head out and question her on her witch-like abilities.

You refrain from doing so and for a moment your body is unsure whether to be impressed or panicked at how easily she can predict you.

The cold floor beneath the dresser is tempting to melt into and never return from as you can hear her light steps drag across the floor beside you, any second now you know you will see her eyes look right through the darkness and find their resting place on you.  

Facing the world wasn’t something you wanted to do at this moment.

And yet, it never comes…

When you turn your head and expect to see cat-like eyes staring back at you from outside the dark corners surrounding you, you are surprised to instead see her sock-clad feet with strange plastic eyes plastered onto them.

The little black pupils rattle against her movements as she curls her feet in a manner that makes the strange sock creature look as if it’s been caught and feels guilty. It looks a little silly and you honestly don’t know how to react to the absurdity of it, so without realizing it a sweet giggle slips out before you can stop it.

Oh no…

When the realization of what you have just done settles within your storming thoughts you have half the mind to slap your hand across your mouth and pray that the older woman didn’t hear it, but as you hear a pleased huff of breath above you, you know you have been caught.

Natasha kneels down until she can peek under the dresser to where your scared eyes study her. She knew to keep her reactions to a minimum, but as soon as she heard your gleeful expression, Natasha had to use every ounce of willpower not to coo.

“Hey baby,” Nat smiles at you as you bite your lip, unsure of her reaction to your slip of judgment, you hold back the pleased grumble building within your chest at her smooth tone.

It ends up being one hell of a task to get you out of there, Natasha has to swear up and down that, your little slip-up didn’t anger her, and then she has to spend the next ten minutes waiting for you to peak your head out.

But, after a bit of coaxing, Natasha can hear your palms lightly slap against the flooring as you follow her a few steps behind. The dig of the wood beneath her feet lets her know that they should invest in some more carpets, or perhaps mats, as this could surely not be good for your weak joints.

The redhead walks in a leisurely stroll, letting you stay close yet still have the desired distance as you pitter-patter behind her.

When the plush carpet molds itself to her stance, Natasha’s movements come to a halt. She stops short of the couch, watching her wife sit in a rather relaxed pose. With her hands stretched out at the top of the cushions, she sits with her chin held high and her rump sunken low.

Natasha almost snickers at her wife’s overly dominant presence, but something about the look in Wanda’s eyes tells her to sit this one out and wait for further instructions.

Wanda observes the both of you as you present yourselves before her watchful eyes. You stay low, crawling forward just enough to satisfy the scary lady. The older redhead’s skin itches with the need to smirk as you crawl toward the both of them, something primal within her, pleased.

Humming, to soothe both her wife and you, Wanda directs her attention to Natasha as her wife waits for an explanation.

She wants to drag it out and make Nat guess as much as you will have to.

This will be a game of trust after all. The need to tease her wife is strong, so, Wanda does as she pleases.

Lifting her pointer, she waves it around in the air for a moment, building a little suspense as the whirlwind swirls around her aura, and then she points over to the living room table.

Atop the table is a plate of sliced apples covered in chocolate, placed deliberately outside of your view.

As Natasha directs her sight to whatever it is Wanda is showing off, you can’t help but try and sneak in a peak yourself. However, much to your disappointment, the item, or whatever it is, is sat just high enough on the table to where you can’t see from your kneeled-down position.

Someone may call you paranoid, but to you, it all seems awfully intentional on the clan leader’s end.

The waving pointer is redirected to you as Natasha smirks for whatever reason while she turns back toward her wife. With a pleasant, and a little scary, smile, Wanda eases your tension as she tilts her head to the side in adoration before ordering her wife to, “Give her a taste, darling.”

Your eyes travel up to the redhead beside you as she moves away for a moment only to return with a platter with some sort of brown rocks on top of it. They make a strange crackling noise as Natasha places it down on the small table in front of the both of you.

Then, a hand comes into view as Natasha heeds her wife’s commands.

Pale, cold, fingertips are wrapped around the strange item that you figure must be some sort of food given the clan leader’s figure of speech, but you aren’t entirely convinced as you view it with uncertainty.

However, the fight is futile as you look up to the tall redhead in questioning hesitance, she smiles gently and as much as it annoys you, you are what the two older women have previously referred to as a “goner”.

Taking a hesitant bite, the crunch of the apple is slightly muted by the strange crackling layer of chocolate. It takes a few bites before the flavor hits you. Chewing slowly, it lies bare for your raw tastebuds to reap, gliding and emerging with your senses.

As your jaw creaks in displeasure, you focus on the heaviness of the treat.

It’s rich at first, almost overwhelming you with its sweetness. It reminds you of wintertime when the bakery just a few streets down from the shelter would emit the most beautiful of smells. It brings you back to the cold nights when you would lay, naked and bruised, beneath your red lamp and envision yourself inside the bakery. Stuffing your face with whatever you might desire.

Weak bones fight themselves as you gorge on the sugary addiction, it sticks to your gums and sneaks its way into the most stubborn corners of your teeth, making a distinctive smacking noise as you bite down repeatedly.

Then the flavor settles, it’s a more muted and pleasantly balanced mix of delightful, creamy, sugar and slightly sour apple. Your jaw works deftly, moving up and down in an unsure manner.

It tastes… good.

It tastes wonderful.

Amazing even.

Perhaps the best thing you have ever eaten. Which all makes you feel like a fool…

It tastes like everything you were ever denied.

Therefore, you sit and wait.

While Natasha and Wanda sit before you with bated breaths, slightly confused by your lack of reaction, you just look at them with beady eyes filled with… betrayal?

It cuts deep, as if your emotions slice through any physical or emotional armor that may surround the two not-so-human creatures. Pain oozes inside their slowly beating hearts as the ice perishes and hot molten burns through their veins until horror takes place.

Wanda is on the ground in front of you before you can even blink.

“Oh, baby…” She leans forward, shifting her weight onto her palms as she rests them beside her bent knees, lowering her torso toward the wooden floor as she crawls toward you. Her shirt rolls up at the action, untucking itself and riding up her back until a sliver of pale flesh showcases itself, but she doesn’t care, instead, she keeps going, slowly.

You tense at the movement, unsure of yourself, you cower away from her, for every inch she advances, you slither back. Deep down you know Wanda would never hurt you, but you also know that if she ever were to desire your misery; she would be far worse than Master.

Calm eyes track your motions as you crawl away from her in a rather desperate fashion, the fact that it does not seem to deter her from getting any closer makes the panic, creeping up your throat, raw and painful as the taste of acid coats itself over sensitive tastebuds.

Sensing your oncoming panic, Wanda stops, for the time being, sitting back on her heels, she makes a show of resting her hands on top of her thighs. Her fingers glide over the material of her fancy-dress pants silently, the ruffles and stretching of the material calm you for a reason you cannot explain.

Little confused, wooden tiles burrow into you as you settle your rump down against them, letting the anxiety simmer and calm before seeking eye contact in an uncertain question. Your head tilting slightly to the left, you wait for her to illuminate her sudden display of surrender and levelheaded dominance.

Perhaps she just wanted first-row seats to your pathetic reaction.

Whatever they put in the dessert is sure to kick in soon.

“Ah…” Wanda hums as she views your saddened eyes up close.

“Natasha. Hand me that would you?” Natasha, who had been sitting rather shell-shocked for the past few moments as her wife hunted you down, shakes it off and tilts her head in confusion for a moment before realization settles in.

With a huff, something mixed with relief and disbelief, Natasha hands over the half-eaten chocolate-covered apple slice that had just been fed to you.

The half-melted chocolate covers the expanses of Wanda’s fingertips as she holds it out for you to see. Then, before you can get nervous about having to eat another piece, it disappears as Wanda puts it in her own mouth instead.

For a moment after you just stare.

Watching as her jaw works before your very eyes, you still can’t help but wait for a sudden change, a frown to deepen, or a foul sound as the flavor takes over the older woman’s senses.

Yet, it never comes.

Small crinkles form around Wanda’s eyes as she chews, they move up and down, changing together with her muscle’s expansion and retraction. They stay consistent with every motion, never faltering in its path.

Like tiny wrinkles on a sheet of paper, it smoothens once she finishes her piece. Letting out a pleased sigh as she does so, clearly delighted by the sweet treat.

And like the snapping apple piece.

You break.

It’s like raindrops against a windshield, almost a question of what tears will win as riveting streams trickle down your chin at an alarming rate. It’s nothing like the few traitorous tears that the redheads have been privy to, no it’s like a raging storm as you hiccup in sorrow at the prospect of respect.

At the sight, Natasha draws in a weary hiss, yet Wanda doesn’t seem to change much at all.

There is no pity in her eyes while she closes in, only determination as she slides another apple piece halfway inside her own mouth and lessens the distance. Too distracted by your own sudden outburst, you don’t even realize what is happening until chocolate grazes your lips as the redhead waits for permission while resting her lips only a few centimeters from your own.

The sudden action shocks you to such degree that you have nodded consent before you understand what that may mean.

Smooth, soft, lips press against your chapped ones, a sweet delight getting slid into your mouth and mixing with the rose that invades your nostrils. A slight string of spit is split between the two of you as Wanda uses her hot tongue to push the piece all the way into your mouth. You both stay like that for a moment, Wanda gazing into your eyes while you stare bashfully into hers.

Yet, just as quick as it happened, it’s gone again… And much to your own surprise, that may be the saddest part of the entire day.

But you can’t be sad for too long as gentle fingers wipe your tears away and a deeper voice asks if you want another piece.

So, this is why the two redheads like kissing so much. You think to yourself as Natasha kisses you with just as much worship as her wife had while the chocolaty goodness seems irrelevant.

They continue it like that back and forth. Wanda gives you one piece, then Natasha, then they share a piece, and so on. It still takes you a while for the tenseness inside your muscles to loosen, but toward the end, you are eager for each piece and wait with impatient eyes as the redheads share some.

It may not have been an immediate fix, but Wanda is more than happy with the result of her little test. For now, Wanda will lessen your portions until you seem happier, and she will have to look out for signs of your dislikes, but if all goes according to plan, with a little help from a secret sugary treat, and maybe a kiss here and there, your trust in her should build to be strong.

Even stronger than Natasha’s if Wanda gets her way.

Which she always does.

[ihearnocomplaints]

Could you write about Moon helping Y/N (who is stubborn about sleeping since they are afraid of nightmares) to sleep? Carrying them, putting them to bed, music box, blankets, cozy time, sleepy vibes. Since Moon is, well, Moon, he will probably stay awake and watch over y/n, making sure they have no bad dreams.

That was super specific, yeah... Just make my dreams come true and I'll give you this candy: 🍬 Deal?

(I'm super happy that you're super bubbly too! BUBBLY TEAM!!)

Hello! Welcome! I will be glad to fulfill your request hehe! thank you for the candy!!!

Enjoy this little drabble :] I liked writing it.

Another yawn escapes your lip. You catch Moon's flinch out of the corner of your eye. "You're tired," He grumbles. Shrugging, you go back to what you were doing before, putting pen to paper to express your creativity. You don't have any rebuttal, so you just give a noncommittal grunt.

A clawed blue hand gently plucks the pen from your hand and sets it aside. You groan and look up at the animatronic. Moon's faceplate rotates to look upright at you as he bends over you. "It's not even bedtime yet," you respond, nodding to the analogue clock on the wall.

6pm.

Moon gently traces a dark circle under your eye. "Dinner, then bed." He pulls your chair away from the desk you were sat at, making it clear that he was not going to argue. You begrudgingly stand and make your way to the kitchen.

You couldn't deny how exhausted you felt. It was difficult to walk. To even think. Of course you're tired. Yet, the mere thought of closing your eyes for even a second makes you sick to your stomach with anxiety. You could feel your chest constrict, making it harder to breathe.

Moon follows you to the kitchen, making sure you stay on task. You take a few deep breaths and rummage through the fridge. There are some leftovers that you don't really want to eat, but it's the best option for you at the moment. You open the microwave and place the food in, punching in the time to heat it up.

As you wait for your food to cook, you lean on the counter and try to ignore the way Moon watches your movements. You know you're tired and you know that your movements reflect that. You can't help the way that you yawn or how gravity seems to try to force your eyelids closed.

The beeps of the microwave make you jump, awake and aware. You pull your food out of the microwave and suck a sharp breath of air as you hold the hot dish in your hands. It wasn't your smartest move, but out of pure spite you stick to it. You can feel the way Moon rolls his eyes at your stubbornness.

You set your food down at the table and eat. Moon opts to clean the kitchen while he waits, letting you eat in peace. When you're finished, you take your dishes to the kitchen and clean them on the sink. You hesitate to leave.

"Are you ready?" Moon holds his hand out to you, and you stare at it before slowly shaking your head. Your nerves get the best of you. You know what's waiting for you when you go to sleep. You don't want to deal with that anymore. Not tonight. You can't handle it tonight.

Moon sighs, pinching where the bridge of his nose would be were he human. "C'mon, I'll carry you." He kneels to your level and holds his arms out to you. You know you're not getting away with refusing to sleep tonight, so you let out a sigh and hesitantly step into his arms. You hold onto him as he picks you up, securing you in his arms.

You rest your head on Moon's shoulder as he carries you to your room, feeling the anxiety bubble within you. He hums gently, rubbing your back to soothe you for a moment. When he gets to your room, he carries you in and gently shuts the door behind the two of you. It's dark.

Moon turns on the lamp that rests on your nightstand and pulls back the covers of your bed. You cling to him as he bends to set you down. "Come now, don't be like this," His raspy voice calls as he runs his fingers through your hair. "I know that you are scared, but it's okay. I am here. I won't leave your side." With his reassurance, you slowly let go of him and lay back on the bed.

Moon's optics brighten with delight now that you are cooperating. He covers you up with plenty of blankets, making sure you're nice and comfortable. You take a few breaths and let your eyes fall shut. The bed dips as Moon takes a seat right on the end of it where he usually sits.

The gentle lullaby of his internal music box begins, and you feel yourself slowly drifting off to sleep. It's comforting knowing that Moon is there to watch over you in your sleep. You feel... safe. He begins to quietly hum along to the music box and you finally drift off to sleep.

You don't have any nightmares that night, nor a hint of a bad dream. There's just warmth and comfort.

[demialwrites]

Okay, I did say no noncon for Rufus but I am a sucker for nonconsensual somnophilia. I suppose it depends if you approach this as an annoying habit of his or a hard 'no'

You weren't aroused so Rufus had to go digging for your natural lubricant. He was careful despite his nails trimmed short. He didn't want you to wake and push him away in anger. It was better to apologize than ask permission; that was the mood he was in. Why give you the option when he could just take what you would normally give?

The slim finger withdrew and plunged deeper multiple times, coating slick down to the knuckle. Avoiding the front for now, he explored your insides. It was slimy, sure, but he was after your tight warmth. Despite only being his finger, it provided relief to the need he didn't know he had until he felt the hug.

The thumb and his pointer on his other hand finger gently trapped your clitoris. While dry, it had the velvet texture that made his chest tighten with the violent urge to fuck you right then, consequences be damned. He was not a man that sought out softness but certain parts of you made him an animal.

He had to have it.

He turned you carefully onto your back. The motion rotated his buried finger and rested the pad on your g-spot. Your breath hitched in your throat and he had to exercise that restraint again. He reluctantly released your clit. His slim brows closed in that signature frown as he lowered his lips to your sensitive little nub. Images of how your face looks when you whine for more when awake flashed unbidden through his mind. You feel even better on his lips. He takes the risk of flicking the tip with his tongue. And there's that delectable whine.

No stopping now.

You could wake up at any moment. Rufus may be a smart man but even a smart man can't think clearly with blood being diverted from his brain. He applied three consecutive, sucking smooches to it. No longer velvety but still soft. The bedsheets rustled as your thighs came around his head. Your heels rested on his back. See? You wanted him. Of course you did. Rufus set about getting you as far along as possible before you awoke and slapped him away.

[woodsfae]

If you haven't had a hysterectomy, it's hard to even conceptualize how intense the recovery is. My doc says, in impact on the body, it's second only to open heart surgeries and limb amputations! (particularly when the cervix is removed, which mine was)

The weekend before my surgery, I mountain biked 35 miles. I was tired, sure. But fine. As my pain rose over the years, my physical activity didn't really drop. Instead, I just became more and more body-blind as I ignored higher and higher levels of pain to push through.

That isn't an option with recovering from a hysto. After my hysterectomy, my physical restrictions were: no bending/twisting/reaching at all. No lifting more than 10 pounds (I soon revised that down, because lifting even a gallon of milk hurt). I was instructed to spend most of my time in bed. To go for a few walks a day, but to get back into bed after my walks. Whenever I felt pain I was supposed to go lie down again, which meant that I didn't sit up for more than 45 minutes until I was nearly a month post-op. And total pelvic rest. I was supposed to disengage my core and back muscles as much as possible to let all the delicate things that got chopped n sewed together time to heal back up. None of my restrictions were lifted till I was 7 wks post op.

My partner took 100% care of me during this time. He lifted my legs in and out of bed. Laid me down and sat me up whenever I needed to adjust. In the first couple of days, he helped me onto and off the toilet, till I figured out how to get up without using my abs. He lowered me onto the couch and pulled me off. Took care of all the grocery shopping, cooking, and cleaning. He kept track of my meds, got up every few hours all night to get me my pain meds until I could sleep through the night without needing a dose. He did this all with such tenderness! Hugs, kisses, and he held me gently whenever I could be comfortably arranged to be held. He brought me coffee in bed every morning and helped me sit up, and fixed my pillows just so. I cannot express how meaningful this was to me. no one has ever taken care of me like this. Not even my own parents.

I have hyper-independence as a trauma response to my neglectful childhood, and in preparation for my surgery, I almost meditated on accepting help and not trying to do things myself. My doctor was very clear that my best outcomes for surgery were to not do anything but rest and go for walks! Partner was an enthusiastic support in that. He would gently chide me if I got myself out of bed or got myself dressed. He never made me feel like taking care of me was an imposition. He told me to have friends over as much as I wanted, but not to arrange a care rotation: he would take care of me.

The experience of being cared for so gently, so lovingly, so intentionally has rewired my brain. It has changed me, and I can't even quantify the hows and whys of it all yet.

There have been many unforeseen impacts of my hysto, but one of the most profound is that I know I am loved, I am loved, I am loved.

[adventures-on-foster-island]

I am sharing my apple pie recipe with the world this year in hopes that it will bring others joy and reduce the number that I end up making. Feel free to ask questions about the recipe, though I will preface that I do not recommend any substitutions other than gluten free flour for the crust. Keep in mind that if you use the gluten free flour, the dough will be more difficult to work with and may require extra liquid to hold together. @swagtastic-bougie-pompadour this recipe makes three pies, if you need to make more I'd recommend doing it in batches.

Crust ingredients:

7.5 cups of flour

3 cups of butter, frozen, grated, and frozen again

3/4 of a cup of high-proof alcohol (I use everclear, don't worry it bakes out)

1/4 cup of ice water or icecubes

6 tablespoons of sugar

6 teaspoons of salt

Combine the dry ingredients in the bowl of a stand mixer, then add the frozen grated butter and mix until it looks a little like sand and pebbles. There will still be small lumps of butter, thats okay. You should be able to squeeze a handful of the mixture and it will hold together. Then combine the ice or ice water with the alcohol, and slowly stream it into the bowl while the mixer is running. Depending on the temperature and humidity, you may not need all of the liquid. It will form a very shaggy dough that seems a little dry, do not over mix. Dump the bowl out onto a floured surface, shape into a circle, and divide into six equal parts. Shape each section roughly into a ball, wrap in plastic or other wrap, and refrigerate at least one hour or until ready to use. When ready, roll each crust one at a time on a floured surface to approximately 1/4 inch thickness. Go slowly, rotating the dough to get an even circle. Patch any holes or cracks that form with a little water and flour, pressing the dough back together. You can freeze the unbaked dough for later use, but let thaw in the refrigerator over night before rolling out.

Apple filling ingredients:

15 lbs of granny smith (or another tart baking apple), about 10 apples per pie

3 cups of brown sugar

3/4 teaspoon fine salt

6 tablespoons of apple pie spice (cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, allspice, clove) (measure from the heart)

1 cup of lemon juice, optional

1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons of cornstarch, divided

3 tablespoons of water

1/2 cup butter, cut into slices

Peel and thinly slice apples. I like to put them in gallon sized zip-top bags, but large bowls work too. Add the sugar, salt, spices, lemon juice, and 1/2 cup of cornstarch, and shake (for bags) or stir (for bowls) to coat. Let the mixture rest for at least an hour, or overnight in the refrigerator. The apples will release a lot of liquid. Strain out the liquid into a saucepan, set aside the apples. Simmer the liquid over a low heat until reduced by half, then in a separate small bowl mix the remaining cornstarch and water to form a slurry. Pour the slurry into the reduced liquid, stirring rapidly until very thick. Turn off heat and immediately add butter, stir until butter is melted and incorporated, then let cool.

To assemble:

Roll out bottom crust and use the roling pin to gently transfer to a 8 or 9 inch pie round pie pan. Gently press the crust into the pan to fit, then prick the bottom several times with a fork to prevent the crust from puffing up. Pack apple slices into the pans until they are mounded over the top, it will seem like there are too many but they will cook down and shrink slightly. Pour the cooled apple syrup over the apples, tapping the pan on the counter to get it to settle in the cracks. Roll out the top crust and decorate however you like, but make sure there are a few holes to let out steam. Gently position top crust over the pie, trim edge to about 1 inch over the edge, and then fold top edge under the bottom edge and crimp with fingers or a fork to seal. Heat oven to 400° F, place pie pans on a baking sheet to prevent dripping in the oven, and brush the tops with egg wash or milk, and optionally sprinkle with coarse sugar. Bake for 40-45 minutes. If the crust browns too quickly, cover with foil until the full time is reached. Let cool for about an hour before serving, and enjoy!

[emptyheadwriting]

Nurture

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 836

Wednesday Addams did many things without thinking of consequences, when she had a goal in mind she tunneled her vision solely on it. The raven haired girl could careless about emotional distress caused by her choices, due to the fact that she had her own emotions in check, it was considering how little of them she felt.

It was a wonder that the two of you had gotten intertwined, you were “gifted” with empathy, cursed to feel everyone’s emotions around you tenfold, it was enough to drive you to tears most nights if you didn’t hide away from the constant stream of emotions that floated around the school grounds.

You as opposed to Wednesday, were forced to tread carefully, doing your best to navigate responses to what people wanted to hear if you couldn’t handle the negative downpour you sensed would come from what you really wanted to say.

The emotional blankness that rolled off the pale girls aura is what made you keep close to her at all times.

She acted as your protector unknowingly, and at first unwillingly, constantly casting glares your way when you would plant yourself next to her at every opportunity. It was only when you explained that you appreciated her phlegmatic nature, and that it kept you grounded did you feel an emotion roll off her.

A small wave, one that just barely reaches the shore rolled into your senses, your make-shift compliment had created a sense of pride in herself.

From then on out she sought you out as well, that whisper of pride seeping out each time she watched your shoulders relax and a little more shine fill your eyes, though she never would admit to doing it for her own pleasure.

On a really bad day you pushed the boundaries, sitting next to her, close enough that your thighs were pushed together.

Neither of you said a thing, and the nonverbal agreement was sealed. Physical contact was an option if you sought it.

As adventurous as you felt when you had first pushed your thigh against hers it was her who took the next step.

You were sat with your back against the trunk of a shade tree, eyes closed a pair of emerald orbs in each hand rotating within your palms concentrated on expelling the emotions of the day when you felt someone standing over you.

Upon opening your eyes met dark brown orbs looking down at you with a new emotion rolling off of her figure, this one was stronger.

Uncertainty rolled off of the girl you believed never took an action she was unsure of.

You gently placed a pair of your orbs into your lap, and gestured to the ground next you.

Wednesday sat wordlessly, making sure your sides were completely attached before she quickly grabbed your hand in hers, fingers intertwining as if a key were to enter a lock.

You turned to her and watched as her shoulders just slightly relaxed a minuscule movement one wouldn’t notice if they did not spend so much time with the girl, she remained facing forward before she spoke,

“You have awoken emotions in me that no one else has, this I am sure you know considering you feel all emotions, I am not sure how to act upon some of them, taking your hand in mine was as difficult of an action as listening to Enid’s endless stream of babble yet much more enjoyable” her voice as steady and stoic as ever as she turned to look at you,

“I would like to explore these new emotions with you as no matter how hard I try to bury them and ignore their growth, Enid says they will not go away and that I must reap what I have sown with you, you must be aware that you will be making a mistake if you do allow this thing between us to grow as I may only go on to hurt you.” She said as she turned away awaiting your reaction.

You hummed with pursed lips, your freehand resuming the motion of the green orbs swirling in your palm, you had never felt your own emotions so vividly.

It was not love yet no, but you could feel your affection rolling off in a display strong enough that you feared anyone may sense it.

“Wednesday Addams, I believe what we have growing can only benefit the both of us, you have been my anchor for long before you knew it. I would like nothing more than to nurture the growth of your emotions, and if you end up hurting me I may very well have to learn how to project my emotions into someone else so that you may share my pain” you said with a small smile playing on your lips and a pink hue to your cheeks.

“I accept your condition” she said back rolling her thumb over the back of your hand before looking at you, a smirk forming without her permission.

[bryce-bucher]

.50 Caliber 3D Platformer Post #5

(Flashing Lights Warning near the bottom of the post)

UI UI UI UI UI:

I've been working on UI mostly the past couple of weeks. It has been, as usual, both very cool & fun but also hell and evil. To be more specific, I really like designing the visual aspect of UI, but implementing it is always so horribly tedious and boring that it is really hard for me to focus on doing it. Without fail, I always end up getting UI done very slowly because of this. I am really happy with what I've got so far though, and it has brought me one step closer to getting to the point where I can just start hashing out levels.

Making the Health UI:

The health UI was something I was extremely excited about implementing, so I eagerly decided to decide that it was time to make it. Let me step u through the process 4 fun.

For me, it always starts with sketching out something crudely in pen. I've had this sketch done for months now, so it was p cool to see it finally come to life in game.

Next I hopped into blender and began trying to make some kind of cool y2k-era greebled out shape, but making detailed machinery (or details in general) is not my strongsuit, so I ended up with this kinda neat smooth shape that I wasn't entirely happy with. It looked cool, but I really wanted to challenge myself to make something closer to the windows media player skins I was inspired by.

More Specifically, I referenced this Half-Life 2 windows media player skin heavily, and started with a ring that I could build little pieces and wires off of. I hope u can forgive me if I maybe made it too similar lol, but I tried to get creative and put my own spin on it. I think the shapes on the top left are the most similar to my reference, and those are not-so-coincidentally the first bits that I modeled. This is my first time modeling something in this style, and I suspect that I'll get better at it if & when I do it again.

Finally, I slapped some materials on, made a texture for one of the faces I had sketched out, and rendered out a few frames of it gently(ish) flashing. I then went into affinity photo and made little speedometer components to slot into the small circle in the top right and programmed some functionality to it. The plan is to have the face represent the player's current health, so I am going to need to make a few more and then animate it rotating into a different face. But yeah, I am super happy with it, and I think it is lookin p sick!

Other Stuff What I Made:

Other than the health UI, I also added in functionality and UI for completing a level and selecting a level.

I was very much inspired by killer7 for the sequence that plays when you shoot your target, and I am addicted to intense flashing lights, so I included a lot of that. There are already accessibility options to turn that off, so if it's something that could harm u or if you just hate it (coward????!!!11) you can disable them. I've always found intense effects like that very cathartic, so I'm probably gonna include similar visuals in a few different things I make. That being said, I do also always want to make the alternative visuals (when the accessibility options are enabled) to also be cool af and get the point across. The level select screen was also really fun to make, I basically just slapped together some textures of warn-out paper into a little files situation and placed that on top of an abstract background that I made in jwildfire.

Conclusion:

I have honestly really loved working on this so far, but there has been a lot of anxiety about money in my life lately, so I really do hope to get this out in a reasonable time. I feel like I say that a lot about this game, but it is because it's always on my mind unfortunately. I don't want to make it sound like I am making this game entirely for money or w/e though, it is definitely a labor of love. Anyways, I hope to get to a point where I can get some environment art done soon, and I cannot wait to show off whatever this game is gonna look like. Have a nice day every1!

[unseelie-grimalkin]

With how much fic you're writing before the game's out, aren't you worried you're just gonna set yourself up for disappointment with the real game if it doesn't fit what you wrote?

I've been in this ball game a long time, even if it's not this exact playing field. I have seen fic be the only redeeming quality of a canon property not just once, but several times over, for properties from games to shows to comics to books.

With all my heart in this, I have to say that I do not think that this will ever be the case with Na Daoine Maithe.

Why do I say this?

Because, just from the demo alone, I know that the writing team of Moirai Myths has brains backing them up. I know they have the stories they want to tell (and the key thing that I think a lot of modern games lack is that they know what they want to tell ahead of time rather than attempting to crunch out a story last minute) and I can tell they have both the skill and the foresight to tell those stories.

And I can already tell from the demo that those stories are going to be extremely well-knit, fascinating, and finely engineered. You can see where the narrative mechanics all fit in together in the preface (i.e. the way that each preface chapter is designed to introduce you to an RO and has each one almost hand you off to the next, letting you see inter-character dynamics and world-build in gently immersive ways each time; I remember being lowkey impressed with the transition between Shae and Keagan, with both options) and the plot hooks and the way that it's done gives me a solid bit of faith.

If anything, the game coming out and me experiencing the stories it tells will just mean I have more things to rotate in my head to then bounce off of for fic-writing purposes. I'll have access to answers that I simply do not have now and a better understanding of characters that I wouldn't be able to have now. It's why I tag the fics I write now with Demo Age: Demo Age fics are me just spinning in circles because I am excited by the potentialities ahead of us and hey if it sparks some joy for folks waiting for this cool game alongside me, why not, right?

(also like. it's fanfic. when the game comes out and it has something i don't wanna use for a fic, i can simply Choose Not To [and, at least for this property, it would never be a personal beef with the devs for why i would choose to do that: it's me understanding the silly lil story i wanna tell to bounce off of the game and going through with that pursuit of a serotonin bag]. it's fic: it is me in the sandbox taking my little plastic wolves and swords and making lightsaber noises)

[gideonisms]

and I think muir's other work is relevant here, specifically deepwater bride & princess floralinda. Also (redacted) but if we get into that I have to unpack my Opinions which I don't have the energy or base homestuck knowledge to do lol. Anyway there's a focus on women who reject the framework by which their life has been lived & then become "monstrous" or illegible to their societies as a result.

like in floralinda, is it a happy ending? I mean, the protagonists end up alive and together but neither one can ever go back to their old life, and they end up becoming the final boss for the next unfortunate princess who ends up in the tower. floralinda is given a narrative, and then she can play the role of either victim or villain, because anything in between isolates her from her society completely. It's debatable whether Hester lives at the end of deepwater bride but if she does she undoubtedly becomes something completely different than what she was. ie she can never go home again.

I think that isolation is the common theme in her work if I had to pick one, her protagonists' inability to fit themselves back into their societies after making choices that separate them from their original roles in life. Death as in irreversible change, death as in the final action that cuts you off from ever being the person you were. so I do think in the rest of the tlt series we're going to see not necessarily the end of harrow's life but the end of her ability to be the reverend daughter or to be useful to the empire

[ectoplasmer]

ohhh my gosh amy what have you done. this is the most tags i have ever tagged-

imagine if your f/o(s), including romantic and platonic, suddenly came alive and into your life. what would be the first thing you do together? how would you go about introducing them to other people like friends and family? how do they settle in this new home of theirs? plus, if they’re from a vastly different world, how do you think they would get used to their new surroundings?

[finelinevogue]

Can you do something where Y/N is sick and Harry has to take care of her please?

i actually had written something similar to this before so i present you a lengthy blurb;

You were pretty sure if you got invited in to hell it would feel something like this.

Hot. Sticky. But chilled.

You had come down with a concerningly high temperature. Along with the added luxuries of a deafening headache, cold sweats and an upset tummy. Your body was burning all over, as if it had just been freshly cooked in the oven but you felt colder than ice. It was a confusing juxtaposition, but there it was.

You'd called Harry, since he was in the studio recording his new music and asked him to come home early. You didn't even get to the reasoning of why he should come home before he hung up, telling you he was already vacating the premises. You hated to be that needy girlfriend who had to call about nearly everything, but Harry loved it more than anything. He loved the fact that you needed him. It gave him purpose, apparently .

You couldn't work out whether you regretted asking him to come home, or whether it was a blessing. It was a very fine line.

It was a blessing because, he looked after you like a mother would her child and made sure he stood by your side any time you found yourself lurched over a toilet. He made you chicken soup from scratch and even tested it to make sure it wasn't too hot, or salty - despite being a vegetarian himself. He even made you honey and lemon tea, which he had to run to the store for the honey. When you say run, you mean run. He didn't want to leave you alone at all, so he put on his running shoes and sprinted to the shop and back. However, it was a slight regret because of how fussy he was over you. He loved it to bits - nursing to your every need.

You truly believed you didn't deserve Harry. He was just too kind and pure for his own good. You were unarguably lucky. Laying on what felt like your death bed, didn't feel so lucky though.

It was now 10 pm and you could hear Harry turning on the alarm for downstairs, the loud beeping noise preventing you from sleep. That's all you'd done all day. Sleep. You thought it'd be more magical than it was. It was just uncomfortable though, because of how cold and hot you were.

Your much better looking other half trudged through the bedroom door within a minute of the alarm going off. He was only wearing checkered pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt and yet he made it look like Gucci Runway 2021.

The jingling of keys signalled Charlie was also present. Charlie was your 2 year old Golden Retriever. He was beautiful. When you and Harry has moved in together 2 years ago you'd managed to persuade him to get a dog. Within a few weeks of moving in you had a 5 month old puppy running around your house. He was your best friend, no doubt about it. He was also ridiculously photogenic.

"Hey Chaz!" You cooed as Charlie walked over to your side of the bed, where you were snuggling down under the sheets. You reached out your hand to give him some loving and attention. You could tell by the small smile and sparkling eyes that he was one happy boy.

"Alright, buddy. Let's leave mum alone." Harry came behind Charlie to manoeuvre him into his bed, which was in the corner of the room. It was more like a big cushion. He started to whine after being forced to leave you - having not seeing you all day. Harry was strict in keeping him downstairs so not to disturb you whilst you were sleeping.

"H it's alright, let him on the bed. He can curl up on my feet." You sympathised with Charlie, as you always did, hating to hear or see him upset. Harry was like the 'bad-cop' when it came to parenting Charlie, because you were too sweet to say no to him.

"You're one spoilt boy, aren’t you?" Harry messed around with Charlie, before telling him he could get up on the bed to see you. Charlie leapt on the bed and wandered over to give you all the kisses he could, before Harry came to calm him down - as you really didn't have the strength.

"I missed you too, Chaz." You quietly laughed, not wanting to set your headache off even more.

"You gonna let me kiss mum now?" Harry rhetorically asked, but as he came over to you Charlie laid down on you so your face was buried underneath his body. You could feel him panting with his adorable tongue out above you, as he hid you from Harry.

"Someone's jealous."

"Feeling like a bloody third wheel over here." Harry tutted and you laughed until you got hot with the movement.

"Harry? Can you move him please?" You whined as you tried to shuffle around.

"Okay Chaz. Let's let mum get some sleep, alright?" Charlie is slowly removed from you and ends up curled on top of your feet, keeping them warm for you.

Harry slipped into the covers and shuffled his way over to you, putting the back of his hand over your forehead and hissing quietly at the simple touch.

"Baby you're so hot." Harry complained.

"I know." You teased with a wink at him, taking his worry out of context and turning it into a flirting compliment.

"Oh piss off!" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you closer. "What am I going to do with you, baby?" Harry then planted only a few delicate kisses to your lips - not wanting to overwork you and your tired body.

••••

You woke up with drowsy eyes to find you're in bed alone.

Your throat was incredibly dry and your whole body was sticky from sweat. Your pyjamas were damp and your face looked like it'd just been drowned in a rainstorm. It was disgusting. Still, you brought the duvet up to cover yourself more, as you let out a dramatic shiver. Why was it so cold?

Mixed into the background noise you could hear the cheering of crowds and it really confused you, until you looked at the wall and noticed the football was playing on re-run on the TV. Manchester United Vs Manchester City. You hated that you knew that just from their football uniforms, but that's what you get for living with a football-crazed boyfriend.

You noticed Harry emerge from the bathroom, a washing up bowl in his arms. He came and sat down in bed, the bucket of water to his side. "What are you doing?" You quietly asked, peering up at him through tired eyes.

"Oi, you're meant to be sleep y’minx." Harry told you off.

"I can't. I'm too uncomfortable. I'm hot, but i'm cold. I also find it hard to sleep without you next to me." You huffed out in annoyance.

"My poorly baby." He leant down to kiss your forehead, "c’mere, baby." He urged.

He helped you move, seeing as your body was really weak, so you could lay down against Harry’s body. He was sat up against the headboard as you nestled down between his legs, your back to his front. It was a lot more comfortable than before - probably because Harry was closer to you. Charlie noticed the disturbance and waited for you to stop moving around, before maintaining the job of guarding your feet.

Once he was happy in his position he fell asleep again, making you jealous of his ability to do that. Especially now.

"Why's the football on?" You asked, motioning towards the TV.

"Had to keep myself awake somehow." He explained, but it only made you more confused.

"Why?"

"So I can take care of you, y’muppet." His words actually melted your heart - more than chocolate could melt on your forehead right now.

After you'd settled, Harry reached into the bucket and drained out a cloth. He made sure all the excess water was cleared before moving it away from the bucket. You hummed in appreciation when he placed it against your forehead, rotating it to the back of your neck also in order to relax and cool you. It made you realise just how hot you were.

"I think i'm dying, Harry." You groaned as the nausea came over you again. Harry kept a firm hold of the cloth on your forehead, dabbing gently and careful to not let any water drip down into your eyes.

"No you're not, baby." Harry gave you a light-hearted laugh.

"Well, living shouldn't feel as shitty as this H." You grumbled, not appreciating his lack of understanding.

“Then just let me take you to the chuffing hospital!" He exclaimed, making Charlie stir slightly.

Harry had been demanding you go to the hospital all day and all evening, but you were too stubborn to go. That, and you were terrified of hospitals - more terrified of needles and blood than anything else. However, you were starting to reach the point where you were giving in to his request, though. It was becoming unbearable to sleep and harder to breathe. You were worried for yourself.

"I don't like it." You pouted like a child, as Harry wrung the cloth through the fresh water again.

"I don't care whether you like it or not, Y/N, I really think we should go. More like need." Harry insisted and you could tell he wasn’t giving up without a fight. You didn’t want that either.

You hated how he was right.

It was only going to get worse from here, and you didn't really want to be alive when that was going you happen, so going to the hospital to get checked over and drugged up seemed like the best option to go for. The more sensible option.

"Fine." You finally accepted, Harry slinking his arms tight around your waist after discarding the cloth in to the bucket. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and planted an abundance of kisses there, your skin burning just to the touch.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." He repeated in-between kisses.

•••••

It took 20 minutes to get in to the car. 20 minutes.

All because Charlie was reluctant to letting you get up and go. So Harry had to dress you into a more appropriate attire, with a dog sat on your lower body. It was then half an hour later that you were in the hospital.

The hospital was quiet at this time of night and for that you were grateful. It was obviously a night where little numbers of people were doing silly things to get themselves hurt. There was the odd patient for a minor cut injury and there were a couple of people in for burns. There was even a woman in because she accidentally superglued her hand to a bottle of superglue - ironic, but painful.

You sat patiently on Harrys lap, waiting for someone to escort you to a cubicle. You were freezing cold, to the point where your teeth were chattering - your outside body was giving off the opposite temperature. You tried to get as close to Harry's warmth as possible, pushing your body against his.

"You're alright baby." Harry shushed you, as you let out a small tremble.

"If I do die—"

"Which you won't." Harry chuckled.

"I know, but if I did I want you to know that I love you." You told him. Even though he's heard you say it a million times before, it still made his heart flutter as you spoke each word.

"I love you, baby." He kissed the side of your head. "But you're going to be just fine, so no more talking about you dying okay?"

"Why? It's only a natural thing." You pointed out.

"Sure, but I don't want to think of a world without my girl living in it. So zip it before I make you."

You never thought of dying as a world without Harry before now and it wasn't the time to start thinking about it either. It was a horrible thought and you understood why Harry didn't want you speak about it. That world would be so dark and empty and you hated thinking about it.

Harry was called to the front desk to fill in some forms for you, since your hands were too cold and shaky to do it for yourself. He accidentally wrote 'Styles' as your second name, before realising his mistake and scribbling it out.

“Shit.” Harry went red in the face and chuckled over his silly mistake. His hand was shaky and you smiled at how he got so flustered over something so simple. You rested your hand on top of his, bringing his attention to you.

“One day.” You told him and he leaned to give you a kiss on the lips. You couldn’t help but feel like his lips were a future promise to make sure he wouldn’t have to scribble out his second name the next time it was written next to yours.

The doctor saw you shortly afterwards and you thanked your lucky stars that there was no injections or removal of any blood involved, Harry sticking with you the whole time. Turns out you were suffering from a moderate fever, but the doctor said with good rest it should pass. The doctor had given Harry permission to make a big fuss over you - explaining how he was going to love it and you were going to hate it - and to make sure to come back with even the slightest worsen of the fever. You got given a prescription list of various medications that you'd need to take over the next week or so. After collecting the drugs, you were back in the car on the way home.

"Told you you weren't going to die." Harry smiled, happy to have you still by his side, whilst holding your hand over the gear console.

"Unfortunate for you, I guess."

"Will you shut you, y’bloody nuisance. You know I can't do life without you, Y/N." He spoke softly, squeezing your hand tighter to assure you that he's going nowhere.

"Same here." You smile at him and he smirks back at you with his dimple-loving smile.

"You’ll always be it for me, baby." Harry speaks, before you drift back off to sleep.

Happily.

[peachsayshi]

Chapter 16 - Madness

Summary: after the fight, Gojo tries to forget what happened while you can’t seem to let go. 

A/N: (18+ / minors and ageless blogs dni) // hi everyone, here is an update! I don’t know why writing this hurt my brain lol but this chapter was inspired by the song Madness by Muse - shout out to J, and her amazing playlist, yet again! ❤️ I’m hoping that I’ll be able to update more frequently. I have the story outlined until the end now. Buckle up, kids, and prepare for the feels!

“…I’ve had to watch you pine after a man that I couldn’t stand for years. One more night isn’t going to make a difference to me…”

Your eyes fluttered open, daylight greeting you along with a pounding headache that throbbed across your temples. The nausea rolled in your stomach as you replayed Satoru’s words, your fingers clenching around the duvet as your heart raced.

You gently sat upright, still holding the blanket close to your chest as if it was protecting you from your own memories. The events of last night trickled through your exhausted state of mind, from the disappointing kiss with the stranger to your regrettable decision of wanting to stop your arrangement with Gojo. Caught in your own wave of emotions you acted impulsively only to have it blow up in your face.

Then there was Satoru’s confession which only left you in a bubble of confusion - if he disliked Haru after all this time, why didn’t he say anything about it?

If Satoru really couldn’t stand Haru, then there was no way he would have been complacent about your relationship. Your friend argued with you over the smallest things that made him uncomfortable, a great instance of that fact is the pillow debacle.

About a year ago, you went through a week of waking up every single morning with a kink in your neck. The situation was bad enough that you wound up walking in a funny position from how stiff you were.

Satoru came up with a suggestion - truthfully, he nagged you into submission - of changing your pillows, while agreeing to help pick out one that would assist with your neck situation.

“You should get this, it’s the one I use,” he said, pointing his finger at one of the more luxurious options.

The white pillows were still in their boxes, nestled on top of fancy silver stands. Blue criss-cross patterns imprinted the fabric, the sign next to the products indicating all the benefits that they provided from maintaining the contours of the body, to relieving any pressure from the neck, back and shoulders as well as having “self-cooling” capabilities…

“Ha! You must be joking, do you see how much it costs?” you replied, ready to turn on your heel and walk in the opposite direction of the department store. “That’s a good chunk of my paycheck and I am sure we can find something better…”

You didn’t even take your first step when you felt Gojo grab you by the elbow and turn you back around.

“You’re getting this one. It’s the best choice.”

“No, I am not. I can’t afford this one. Besides, I can’t justify spending that kind of money on some pillows…”

“I can if it will help you,” he said, picking one of the boxes off the display and nestling it underneath his arm before reaching out for a second one. “Come on, let’s cash out.”

Your furrowed your brows at him, following his long strides as you tried to stop him.

“Put them back!”

“This isn’t up for discussion, as your friend it’s my moral obligation to take care of you. I don’t want to be fit when I’m eighty years old and your standing besides me with a crooked neck. What am I supposed to do with you then? It’ll be a total buzzkill for my retirement plan…”

You rolled your eyes at him, “okay, but this is not worth the pri-“

You bumped into him when he stopped walking. He hunched down to meet your eye level before flashing you a cheeky grin. “If you can rotate your head in a full circle, I’ll put the pillows back.”

“W-what…”

“You heard me,” he pressed, swirling his free index finger around to draw a sphere, “one full circle and I’ll put them back.”

You pouted, your arrogance getting the better of you and you adjusted your stance before slowly moving your neck to the right. You inhaled when you felt the muscle tighten, a shooting pain following the curve down to your shoulder. You snagged your bottom lip between your teeth as you found yourself struggling to motion your chin any further.

“F-fuck…” you stuttered.

“Mhmm, that’s what I thought,” Gojo replied, a look of amusement manifesting across his face. “Do you think I can go around fighting curses all night long and not have the right products to support this body of mine?“

“I’m serious. I can’t afford them. Please, put them back,” you rebutted, returning to a position that was comfortable.

“You can’t afford them but I can!” the sorcerer chirped.

“Oh, no! No, no, no…there is no chance that I will allow you to buy me these! They are overpriced…”

“Beneficial…” Satoru emphasized.

“Overpriced bedroom accessories!”

Your friend casually made his way towards the cash counter, disregarding you buzzing around him like a bee.

“I told you I have a moral obligation…” he argued back, before fishing out his wallet but you quickly circled his wrist to stop him from pulling out his credit card.

“You are not buying these for me. If you do, I promise I’ll be that friend who ignored you for the next fifty years, crooked neck and all!”

Gojo rolled his eyes, resting both his elbows on the counter. “Okay, okay, let’s compromise…you try out these pillows tonight and if you feel even one percent better, then you admit that I’m right and keep them. But, if I’m wrong and they are just ‘overpriced accessories’, ” he gestured air quotes with his slender fingers, “…then I’ll happily take them back. Deal?”

“Or you could just put them back, and we forget the whole thing!”

He smirked, “take the deal or suffer the wrath of me building an entire pillow fort in that tiny ass apartment of yours…”

You eased your grip on his wrist, knowing full well that he would kick up a fuss rather than back down from this fight.

“You’ve got yourself a deal. Keep the receipts, I want to make sure you get your money back.”

He flashed you his pearly whites, “mhmm, will see about that when you thank me in the morning!”

You hated that you had the best sleep of your life that night.

When you admitted to Gojo that he was right, he wrote out a message of praise to himself which he made you read out loud to him the next time you both hung out together.

Your friend may be an idiot, but he was your idiot who was always looking out for you.

If he went through all that trouble over a set of pillows, it made absolutely no sense that he would keep any negative opinions about your relationship to himself.

After you managed to roll out of bed, you proceeded to fulfill the extremely daunting task of taking a shower. You washed and conditioned your hair, eliminating any traces of your terrible night from seeping into your day. You lathered yourself with body wash, brushed your teeth and massaged your face with your favorite cleanser, all the while trying to erase the pain on Satoru’s face when you admitted that he deserved to be punished.

You turned off the faucet, a deep sigh escaping you as water droplets dripped down from the shower head to your feet.

You and Gojo argued all the time but never had a serious fight where you couldn’t talk it out within minutes of it happening.

You covered your face with your hands, embarrassment flooding through you when you thought about your attitude towards him in the alley. You were so detached from that moment that you couldn’t even justify your own petty behavior. Just as you remembered how hard you were trying to make him jealous for sleeping with somebody else, you remembered the line that he had let slip:

“…I couldn’t stop thinking of you the entire time we were together. I always end up thinking about you…”

You shivered, unsure of where to begin to dissect that comment. Knowing Gojo was attracted to you is one thing but there was no chance that he regarded you as anything other than a friend.

Then…why would he say that?, you thought.

You never considered that he would ever take a serious interest in you and if he decided to ever commit to a relationship, then Satoru deserved to be with somebody who was on his level. He needed to be with someone who he viewed as his equal, who was powerful and strong as the greatest sorcerer alive. You wanted him to be happy with somebody beautiful, who could match that charismatic energy and would cherish him for who he is, while acknowledging that there is so much more to him than meets the eye.

Not you.

You were just so…average…

He would lose any interest eventually because you would probably bore him to death with your silly romanticism and conformist ideas about love.

No matter how close you were, you both were just too different when it came to the things that mattered regarding the complexities of intimate relationships.

Why would he waste his time with you?

The thought made your heart sink to the pit of your stomach and you were unable to understand why you were aching in places that you didn’t even know could hurt.

***

You were a bit more productive by the afternoon. You finally called Rina back, promising that you would give her the full update detailing your night when you both made plans, insisting that this was not a conversation that you could merely have over the phone. You then proceeded to make your bed, wash the dishes and catch up on a few work emails. You prepped lunch for yourself, cooking a simple rice bowl with salmon while simultaneously reciting an apology to Satoru.

You knew you needed to clear the air with him and decided that you wanted an explanation regarding the statements he made last night, but the first thing you had to do is say sorry for how you treated him.

Your friend didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of the pain that Haru had inflicted, nor was it fair of you to use him to bury the loneliness that your ex-boyfriend left in his wake. No matter what the circumstances are, your friendship came first and you weren’t exactly living up to that title very well.

You’ve been going through it over and over again, finally coming to the conclusion that you were just going to lay out the entire truth. You were going to tell him the real reason why you and Haru broke up, putting your pride aside to admit that your prince wasn’t as charming as you’ve praised him to be. You needed Satoru to understand where your hurt was coming from and why you acted so irrationally. Then you were going to say sorry until he could find it in himself to forgive you.

Just as you were about to say your apology out loud for a third time, your phone started to vibrate.

Speak of the devil.

“Hello?”

“Hey!”

Your heart started to race, “H-Hi!…”

“So, listen…remember that night we stayed up watching those two terrible movies back to back? The ones about those cows and chickens that turned into zombies?”

You paused, your words catching in your throat as you were caught off guard by Satoru’s energetic tone on the receiving line.

“Uhm, yeah…I-I remember the CGI was terrible, it was called…”The Farm” or something?”

“ ‘The Cursed Farm’! Yes, you remember! Well, today I was scrolling through my phone when I noticed this trailer pop up on my Instagram page, it turns out there’s a third movie called “The Cursed Farm: Bad Harvest”! Can you believe that? They actually took the time to make another movie! Anyway, I couldn’t resist and I got two tickets for one of the showings tonight. Would you like to tag along?”

You blinked a couple of times, “tag along?”

“Yeah, it starts at seven. I figured since it’s the weekend you’re free to join, unless you had something else planned?“

Again there was a long pause, your brain unable to process Satoru’s request because he is behaving like everything is normal.

Except things weren’t normal and the blisters around your ankles is physical proof that the events from last night did, in fact, happen.

Unless Gojo somehow bumped his head which triggered some type of short term amnesia, you couldn’t comprehend how he transitioned to his usual warm and fuzzy self overnight.

“Hellooo?” he sang again, “are you there?”

“Y-Yes, I’m here! Sorry! I’m a bit spaced out this morning after what happened last-“

“Don’t worry about it!” Satoru cut you off, “So, you’re in for the movie tonight?”

You nodded your head, swallowing the hard lump in your throat. “Sure, I’m not busy.”

“Great! I’ll text you which theatre to meet me at. See you then!”

Before you could even say goodbye, he hung up the phone.

You stared at the device in your hands, bypassing the seconds until you came to your senses.

Is Satoru really choosing to avoid the confrontation entirely?

You knew that settling the matter would smooth things over instead of ignoring how they transpired - but if your friend is giving you the opportunity to see him, it means that the two of you might actually have the chance to talk about it.

Maybe the situation isn’t as bad as you’ve made it out to be in your head…

Maybe if you approached the problem with a cool and collected mind, then things might turn out...fine…

You breathed a small sigh of relief.

Maybe, just maybe, you haven’t completely screwed things up with your friend…

Your moment of bliss only managed to last for a few minutes because you wound up being a wreck by the evening.

You spent the rest of your afternoon distracting yourself with menial tasks but your anxiety was through the roof with how nervous you were about tonight. Even picking out your outfit was flustering and you worked up a sweat trying to determine whether or not your clothes were too dressy or if they were sending the wrong kind of message. In the end you settled for comfort, wearing your favorite pair of high waisted jeans and a tank top with an oversized cardigan. By the time you managed to put on your make up, you realized you were running late.

The street outside the movie theatre was packed with people. Blinding, bright lights flashed above thanks to the giant screens on the building, all of which were promoting the latest must-see films. You stepped outside your uber, thanking the driver before proceeding to approach the crowd. You looked around for your tall friend, whose above average height made it possible for you to spot him from a mile away.

You gave yourself three seconds to let the nerves settle before approaching him, your hands gripping onto the strap of your crossbody purse. You were relieved to see that he also dressed down, wearing a simple grey hoodie with darker jeans and white sneakers. His black sunglasses were resting comfortably on the bridge of his nose, and he was tapping away at his phone with a pensive look on his face.

It really is unfair that somebody could look that good with such minimal effort.

“Hey, you…” you spoke, your voice coming out quieter than anticipated and you waved your hand awkwardly to draw his attention.

“Hey!” he replied, his face lighting up when he saw you and he quickly shoved his phone in his pocket. “You made it!”

“Yeah, sorry if I’m a little late…I was having a wardrobe malfunction…”

“It’s okay, we’ve still got a few minutes before the movie starts,” he continued, opening the entrance door and tilting his head to direct you inside. “You hungry? I can get us some popcorn…”

“No, thanks. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stomach any food with the violence that these animals are about to ensue on those poor farmers…”

A chuckle escaped him, “fair enough!”

You made your way inside but you were feeling uneasy with his cordial behavior.

You refused to believe that your friend is this detached by the fact that he interrupted your sad attempt of hooking up with a stranger only to then walk you back to your place with his hand protectively intertwined in your own.

The two of you found your seats in the last row of the empty theater, being the only ones who were interested in attending the low budget horror film.

Satoru wasn’t engaging in his usual chatter with you, instead he was filling any awkward silences with random statements, such as “oh, it’s kind of cold in here…” or “I think the movie is about to start, we made it in time!” - in other words, speaking to the non existent general audience around him rather than directing a focused conversation towards you.

You couldn’t blame him really, especially since you had absolutely no idea what to say in return. You were so distracted by the scent of his intoxicating cologne that you were resisting the urge to compliment how good he smells.

Cedar and spice wafted across your nose, warming your entire soul and making you wish that you could bury yourself in his chest for a hug. If circumstances were different, that’s what you would do because being wrapped up comfortably in those arms is exactly what you needed at this very moment.

You were tense when the movie began, your frigid body contrasting Satoru’s who is leisurely lounging against the chair. His right arm was extended out to the free seat beside him, his legs spread wide but you noticed that he was making a conscious effort not to bump his knee into yours.

You have no idea how you managed to get through the next hour and thirty minutes, spacing out the entire time the movie flashed before your eyes. You kept glancing over towards Gojo, in the hopes that he would make eye contact with you. Instead your friend remained transfixed on the horrific plague brought on by the zombified barn animals, bursting into a fit of laughter whenever the main character let a cheesy line slip or dramatically gasping watching a hilarious death scene at play.

You didn’t realize how much it would hurt seeing him switch to his regular self while you were left dealing with the emotional turmoil on your own.

By the time the movie ended, your stomach was left twisted in knots and you were fighting the urge to break down in tears.

***

“…I definitely think the first installment is better, they basically took all the good bits from the last two movies and repeated them! Meh, how disappointing…I guess that’s what you get with these shitty films, they lose their initial thrill because the writers just can’t come up with anymore good ideas. I mean, they even reused the same footage from the other movies, like the scene with the zombie chickens gouging the eyes out of the family next door…”

You pressed your lips together, giving Satoru a small smile as you hummed along his words. He had been talking incessantly since you left the movie theatre, giving you a full review on his exact thoughts about the cinematic experience. Usually you would be bantering with him in return, but you were still trying to figure out how to cut the topic short and slide in your apology.

“Man, I’m starving! We should go back to my place and order take out...uhhh, if you want to…otherwise, I’ll just walk you home…”

For the first time tonight you perked up at his suggestion, “that sounds like a great idea!” you blurted out, doing little to hide your relief.

Satoru flashed you a heart melting grin, one that was quick to make the muscle in your chest to skip a beat.

You noticed that he was walking faster than you could keep up, always two steps ahead or behind and never in line with your own. Despite the persona he was putting on, you could see that he was acting strange. Everything he was doing felt forced but whenever you tried to point it out, he would immediately deflect your statements. The awkwardness that lingered was blatantly obvious but while you were fully aware of that fact, you noticed that your friend was just shrugging it off.

The anticipation was building, the weight of it growing heavier with every step you took closer to his apartment. You were afraid that he might brush off your words as casually as he was treating this entire situation, nervously wondering that he is actually serious with how little he seemed to care about the whole situation.

Since you’ve started your entanglement, you’ve grown accustomed to his incessant touches. You found it comforting when would wrap his arm around your waist or shoulder, pulling you into his lean frame for you to nestle against him. You felt strange being this close him and feeling the divide, hating just how much he was keeping his hands to himself.

You were thankful when the two of you made it back to his place, figuring that this was the perfect time to say something. You would rather get everything out of the way now than drag anymore uneasy tension over dinner. You were watching him nonchalantly whistle as he pulled his key card out of his wallet, reassuring yourself that this was the right thing to do before speaking.

“Satoru, wait, before we go in, there’s something I-“

“You want to get sushi tonight? There’s this new place I’m dying to try out…”

“Yeah, sure, uhm…we can get whatever you want, but before we go, I really need to talk to you about something…”

“Oh, how about dumplings! You know what, I think we should treat ourselves and do both…”

“Wait, there’s something I’m trying tell you…”

“Or we could just keep it easy and do pizza, I think that’ll be the better option…”

“Satoru, stop talking!” you announced, reaching your hand out to grab him but stopped when you noticed that you were met with the force of his infinity.

You winced, drawing both your attentions to your hand that couldn’t touch him. You slowly retracted away while Satoru fidgeted with the key card between his fingers, subconsciously sliding it back in his wallet, and shoving it in his hoodie. He cleared his throat, before dragging his shades up to thread them through his white locks.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on a rant,” he said, a tint of pink blushing his cheeks.

“It’s…it’s not that,” you stammered, trying to hide the hurt knowing that he was physically keeping himself from you. “I just want to talk about what happened last night…”

“Oh?”

You nodded your head, “It’s been sitting on my head and I wasn’t sure how to bring it up…”

He laughed, scratching the back of his ear nervously, “Hey, it’s okay, let’s not dwell on it! What happened…happened, right? We can’t change it. I know you probably regret hooking up with me in the first place but it really isn’t a big deal. I knew I fucked things up the minute I hooked up with somebody else. I should have respected your boundaries, this is my fault…”

“That’s not true!” you exclaimed, your quick response prompting Satoru to raise both his brows as the smile fell from his face.

A tear rolled down your cheek and you closed your eyes to steady your shaking voice.

“Satoru,” you sighed, “I don’t know how to switch off like you. I can’t just sweep this under the rug and have dinner with you like everything is perfectly fine between us. I’ve spent the entire day spiraling down a circle of guilt thinking of the way I treated you last night, just wondering how I could apologize for my behavior. You say that it doesn’t matter but I know that I hurt you, and you deserve an apology. Last night was inexcusable and I…”

You covered your face with your hands, “…I need to be honest with you. When you told me about Ami, it brought up some really painful memories, memories that have nothing to do with you. None of this is your fault, because you don’t know the full story…you don’t know that Haru fucked me over or why we broke up, you-you don’t know how hard I am still trying to work through it…”

Gojo froze watching you crumble in front of him. He’s no stranger to seeing you in all forms and moods, but never this vulnerable.

“…I didn’t know how to tell you that I-I’m the idiot for falling in love with somebody who ended up cheating on me…”

“Stop…” he interrupted, taking a step closer towards you but maintaining his distance. He brought his knuckle to wipe away another tear that trailed down your cheek, but hesitated before dropping his hand to his side. “You’re not…you’re not an idiot…”

“Oh, come on, if anybody has the right to say it it’s you,” you scoffed, folding your arms across your chest as you stared down at your feet, “I constantly rubbed it in your face about how perfect my relationship was, like I was trying to prove something to you. Turns out you were right, huh? Love brings nothing but unnecessary drama into someone’s life. What’s the point committing yourself to somebody who is just going to hurt you in the end?”

He placed both his hands flat against the door by your face, shaking his head as he clenched his jaw, “That’s…that’s not what I wanted for you…I don’t want you to believe that….”

“You’re smart not creating any attachments, you really are. I thought I could move past this, I thought I could…have something meaningless but last night proved that I’m still stuck in this loop. That’s why I asked if we could stop, because I didn’t want to drag you in my mess. You’re not at fault here and I will not blame you for the bullshit that I’m going through. But then…then you said all those things…” you finally looked at him from under your lashes with hopeful eyes, making him hold his breath as his chest tightened, “…god, I don’t even know if it means anything…but if…if there is anything that I regret about last night, it’s how things ended between us…”

Satoru furrowed his brows, focusing on the way you scrunched your face in frustration. He exhaled before slumping his shoulders in defeat.

“I’m sorry,” you continued, your apology pouring out of you. “I’m sorry for not telling you the truth in the first place. I’m sorry for deliberately trying to hurt you. I’m sorry for complicating what was really good between us. I would…I would take it all back if I could.”

The silence hung in the air but you felt lighter allowing the words to flow through you. Your sparkling eyes met those of your friend, whose blue irises swirled like a warm flame. He wasn’t laughing or making jokes, just looking at you sheer intensity that you lightly knocked your head back against the frame of his door just to break away from his hold. He leaned forward, closing the gap as he finally dropped his infinity to invade your personal space. He relaxed his stance before placing his forehead on your shoulder.

“Why are you always such an open book with how you feel? You’re making this so difficult for me. I’m trying to go back to normal, to go back to the way things were just like you asked of me last night. I’m doing everything in my power to stop myself from kissing you, to stop myself from fucking touching you…” he exhaled, his breath hot against your neck as he slowly dragged his lips up the curve and across your jaw to hover just above your own. “I meant everything I said last night. I’ve had to watch that little shit put his hands all over the one person I cared about the most, and all I could do was smile about it, but I can’t…”

His fists clenched into tight balls, his nails digging into the palms of his hand but you were lost in a daze upon hearing his confession. “I can’t keep doing this anymore…”

You swallowed hard, your lids growing heavy watching him shift his gaze towards your heaving chest before returning to your parted lips.

“Can’t keep doing what…exactly?” you asked breathlessly.

“Pretending…” he stated through gritted teeth, his tone laced with desire as he finally released his grip to cup your face.

“…pretending like I haven’t wanted you, like I haven’t wanted this, from the moment I laid my eyes on you…” he feverishly replied, before silencing you with a passionate kiss.

***

CHAPTER 17: FEVER

***

TAG: @ekaterinatepes @pensivespecter @jelly-jellx

[we-have-bangtan]

Again.

Pairing: Doctor! Yoongi x Patient! Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Crack (??), Ex's, smut

Warning: Swearing, smut (just an old memory)

Synopsis: When Yn is forced to go to the hospital after falling down the stairs of her office. The doctor who was to attend to her was none other than her ex-boyfriend Min Yoongi.

A/n: let me know if you like it! And give me a reblog to support me!!!

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Yn turned over onto her back, her eyes still closed. She wondered silently why her normally soft bed was hard today. With another roll, she landed with a thud on the cold, hard floor, jolting her awake.

When the blinding lights of the room filled her vision, she suddenly regretted opening her eyes. She sat on the floor, rubbing her eyes to clear the sleep from them, oblivious to the drool on her chin. Her eyes opened in confusion when she saw the IV line on her wrist, her gaze following the line, attached to a bottle mounted onto an IV stand.

She sprang to her feet immediately, taking in her surroundings: the IV stand, the white bed, white walls, the hand sanitizer mounted on the wall, the white floor tiles, and the white blinds that kept the sunshine out.

A hospital? She guessed as she took in all the equipment, the machines that beeped every few seconds were a dead giveaway. Is this a private room? She asked herself, trying to find any clue which hospital this was when the door swung open.

Min Yoongi entered the room, wearing a white lab coat and a stethoscope around his neck. He walked over to her side and encouraged her to take a seat on the bed.

"Where am I?" Despite the fact that she already knew the answer, she inquired. "Take a wild guess," Yoongi replied dryly as he flipped through the papers on his clipboard. Yn racked her brain for the name of the hospital; she was certain she knew which one Yoongi had been working at, but her mind was blank, displaying only a buffering page similar to that of a 2004 Dell laptop.

"Did you really hit your head that hard?"  Yoongi said what he was thinking, a little concerned for her safety. "Do you have a headache? Can you recall what you ate for breakfast or what happened just before you passed out? "He questioned.

"My head hurts a bit, so for breakfast, I had cinnamon crunch with milk, and lunch I had a sandwich. Walking down the stairs is the last thing I recall," She responded. All of her responses matched what her coworkers had told them, leading Yoongi to believe that Yn simply didn't know where he worked and that her head was okay.

He was irritated that Yn had no idea where he worked, but he forced his resentment to the back of his mind before informing her that she was in a private room at Asan Medical Centre in Seoul. "Wait, are you serious?" She yelled as she struggled to get out of bed.

"Yes, seriously," he explained, forcing her back onto the bed "You fell down the stairs in your office and one of your colleagues brought you in; you were unconscious for 5 hours; you will need to stay the night so we can run some tests on you; you will need to stay the night so we can run some tests on you," he added. "Why on earth do you have no idea I work at Asan?"He demanded once he was done briefing her.

"I would have noticed if you hadn't blocked me on all your social media pages," Yn said after some thought. She hisses, reminding him why she was blocked in the first place. "I wouldn't have had to block you if you hadn't started tagging me in those dumb Facebook memes," he retorted as he paging one of the nurses to come to change the IV bag.

"Is there something bothering you? Aside from your head," Yoongi inquired, reaching for his fancy click pen, which Yn had given him in college. "You still use that?" She inquired, her gaze falling on the royal blue color of the pen, the brand name has faded over time. He calmly replied, "I started using it once I got my residence, now answer the question."

To search for any injury, Yn moved her limbs around, starting with her feet. She turned them around to look for any discomfort before moving on to her legs, which were still perfect.  She eventually tested her shoulders and despite her best efforts, winced in pain as she raised her left shoulder.

"Left shoulder, okay. Do you feel nauseous?"  Yn shook her head as Yoongi asked more.

"Any ringing in your ears?"

"Nope"

"Is that gray hair on your head?" Yn interjected, pointing to a few strands at the start of Yoongi's hairline. He dismissed her and instead scribbled a note on his clipboard.

"OK, so you don't have any concussion symptoms, your hearing is good, and you're not feeling dizzy and your eyesight is better than ever before considering the fact that you could pick out my gray hair from that far. We still have some blood work to do and I'm putting you on observation tonight in case any symptom pops up, you're free to go home after that," Yoongi informed.

He reasoned that saying anything else would be unprofessional of him. Heading for the door when, "Yah, why am I in a private room in the first place?" Yn intervened, preventing him from leaving. Yoongi replied, turning around to face her, "I figured it would be more convenient for you."

"Bruh, do you have any idea how broke I am," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her stomach. "I ain't a hotshot doctor to be able to afford a private room in Asan Medical Centre," she sneered. "Who said something about you paying?" asked Yoongi. As he returned to her side. "So, who is going to foot the bill?  You? " She inquired, he nodded, causing her jaw to drop. She was perplexed by his words and asked, "Why would you do that?" "What good is it to be a hotshot doctor?" He shrugged.

The mental picture of a very sleepy and confused Yn, with her hair all tangled up and a tiny spot of drool on her face had made him soft, and there was no stopping his heart from falling head over heels for her all over again as he walked out of the room, the smile he had been battling slowly crept into place...

.

.

.

Yoongi peeked into Yn's room after his shift, his shoulders slouching from the stress of his job. He had his coat and stethoscope wrapped over his arm, his hair slightly damp from the shower he had taken, his white t-shirt clinging to his body.

When they were dating, one of Yn's 'rules' was that if he wanted to get close to her, he had to shower after returning from the hospital because she hated the scent of antiseptic. With the scent of antiseptic all over her, he wondered how she was doing.

He discovered her in bed, knees drawn up to her stomach, phone in hand, the screen almost brushing her nose as she mindlessly scrolled through Instagram. Her food, which had been left on the side table, had not been touched.

He warned, walking into the room, "You'll go blind if you keep doing that." Yn's head snapped up at his voice but calmed down when she saw who it was. He drew up a stool next to the bed and checked what Yn had received from the hospital. Soup, kimchi, rice, and pickled radishes were served on the side (Yn hated those). "Is the food not to your liking?" Concerned about her dietary habits, he inquired.

"They don't have any salt or spice," she replied as she stowed her phone. Yoongi grimaced after taking a sip of the soup. There was no salt or pepper and was as bland as raw tofu.

"SEE!!" Yn screamed, delighted that she had been proven right, but Yoongi, not one to concede defeat, put on a display. "How come it's so salty?" His face scrunched up in exaggeration as he groaned. "Stop acting, I can see right through you," Yn said, raising an eyebrow to call him out on his nonsense.

"All right, fine, you're right," Yoongi conceded as Yn yanked the sheets off herself and reached for his shoulders. He thought it was strange, but didn't say anything when she gently rubbed the spot near his collar, the tension in his shoulders dissipating as she applied pressure. He'd always thought Yn had magical hands. It felt like a miracle to have her hands on him again, something he had never expected to feel again.

"Can you tell me what I can do to get you to order me a plate of jjajangmyeon?" Yn asked. Yoongi thought, Darn it, I knew it was a trap, but he was too relaxed to say no. As she worked out the knots in his muscles, he melted under Yn's touch. She was no longer connected to the IV, enabling her to freely move about the room.

"I knew you were only in it for food," he chuckled, moving away from her to grab his phone from his coat, "What else did you think I was in it for?" Yn jested, playing along as she massaged his shoulders.

"Only jjajangmyeon?" He questioned, scrolling through the options, Yn looking at the phone from over his shoulder. "Order some side dishes too," she added, Yoongi let out a groan when Yn put pressure on THE SPOT at the back of his shoulder blade, the sound making Yn blush. "Stop that, people will think we're filing a porno," Yn scolded lightheartedly, continuing her ministering.

"I don't think we need to film any more of those, I have a whole collection already," Yoongi teased. His gummy smile showing up when he felt Yn's hand round his throat, threatening to choke him. "I think it's the other way round," he scoffed. His heart going into dangerous territory.

Yoongi remembered the night he had discovered Yn's choking kink, it had been a very eventful night. He had just come back home from the hospital when he had heard moaning coming from his bedroom, he had walked inside, totally unprepared for the breathtaking view that awaited him.

Watching porn wasn't considered cheating by Yoongi as long as Yn showed him what she was watching so he knew what they were getting into. When he walked in on Yn in his rotating chair, her legs spread out on the armrest, touching herself to a film about choking, he was pleasantly surprised. He went up behind her softly and wrapped his fingers around her throat, not putting much pressure. When Yn groaned for him, he felt himself harden in his pants and murmured, "You like that baby."

"Stop imagining it," Yn snapped, pushing away from Yoongi, "How do you expect me to just stop, those were some great moments of my life," he chuckled when his phone rang. It had something to do with the meal. He went to get the dinner by himself, leaving Yn alone.

When he returned with her dinner, he delivered it to her before saying his goodbyes and preparing to leave. "Enjoy your meal and get some sleep," he added as he gathered his belongings. "Where are you going?" Yn inquired. "Home??" Yoongi answered, taking his phone from the table when Yn stopped him. "Did you have dinner?" she asked, opening up the takeout box to reveal a generous serving of jjajangmyeon.

"Not yet, I was planning on getting some on the way," He answered, waiting for Yn to say anything. "Then you should stay and give me some company, it's not like I can finish all this on my own," She mumbled. "You sure?" Yoongi confirmed, taking his place on the chair as Yn grabbed the chopsticks from the bedside table, letting him have the wooden chopsticks that the restaurant provides.

They both dug into the meal, savoring every mouthful. In the otherwise peaceful hospital, just the sound of them slurping their noodles and the beep of the monitors could be heard. The majority of the patients were fast asleep, and those who were awake were taking special precautions to avoid making any noise.

Yn was the one who broke the stillness by inquiring about Holly. He said, licking his lips to get rid of the sauce, "She's good, I got her a ribbon for her ears the other day." He was intrigued about Yn's cranky cat, Buster, who had scratched Holly once. Yoongi's heart dropped to his stomach as Yn replied, "We had to put him down."

Although he was simply a large, sluggish cat who refused to get his butt off the window pane, Buster had been Yn's pride and joy, her support system. "That must have been difficult," Yoongi paused, unsure of how to express his condolences.

"It had to be done; he was in a lot of agony," Yn shrugged, shaking her head to clear her mind. "How are the boys doing?  I haven't seen them since we broke up" Yoongi's six other friends were the subject of Yn's inquiry. He assured her everyone was ok. "You might see Jungkook tomorrow," he said, explaining that he had taken the day off today. "Does Jungkookie work here?" Yn inquired, quite surprised by the information. "Yes, he's an intern trying to get his residence, surprising isn't it," Yoongi admitted.

Yn burped after she finished her dinner, making Yoongi laugh at how cute she looked. Once Yn had freshened up, Yoongi said, "Ok, now that you've finished eating, I'll go home, and YOU'LL go to sleep." "You always leave," Yn remarked, rolling her eyes. The words weighed heavy on his mind as he tucked her in. On his way out, he turned out the light and gave her one last look before walking away.

Yoongi slouched his shoulders again once he was in his car. The words Yn had just said reverberated in his mind. Since he had broken up with Yn, the words "You always leave" had tormented him. He had been in love with her, yet he was the one who had abandoned her. NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND, HE LEFT HER. It was painful to recall the details of their breakup.

Yn crying into his chest, asking why she wasn't enough. Him holding her as fiercely as he could, not knowing if he'd ever get another chance. His cowardice had broken both of them that night. He'd run away from one of the most precious part of his life, and he still regrets it.

They had broken up because of him. Yoongi always believed Yn deserved someone better than him, she was too good for him. She had yelled at him when he had told her that. Saying that it was her who got to decide who was worth her time and affection, and if h really thought h didn't deserve her then maybe he should make himself deserving, she had said that that was the solution for Yoongi's thoughts, breaking up was not the solution, but he was stubborn as a mule, refusing to see how he was destroying both of them and everything they had.

And now here he was, striving to be less of a wimp than he had been all those years before. He remembered how enraged the boys had been when he told them what he'd done. "Have you gone insane?" All Yoongi could do was nod when Jin Hyung asked. Yes, he'd gone nuts, which was why he'd been insane enough to let her go. He had no problem admitting it.

He cruised around the deserted roads, far too late in the evening for anyone to be out. He considered calling Jin hyung for advice, but he opted against it because he assumed he was already in bed. For the rest of the night, he was alone with his thoughts, his mind eating away at him, keeping him awake at night, tossing and turning in bed, contemplating what they could have been if he hadn't been a coward.

.

.

.

.

The next morning was the same as any other, the only difference being the speed of Yoongi's car when he was on his way to the office. The usual 60km/h had escalated to 80km/h and he was certainly a little too excited for someone who was going to be at the hospital for the next 18 hours.

He was walking up the corridor to Yn's room after exiting the elevator on the third level when he heard screams. "MOVE, MOVE OUT OF THE WAY PEOPLE!" shouted Yn as Jungkook pushed her wheelchair down the slanted corridor quicker.

What the fuck!!, Yoongi thought as he saw Jungkook climb onto the wheelchair's back supports, watching in horror as the two of them laughed and giggled their way down the corridor at full speed (which wasn't much speed btw), completely disregarding the 'no noise' and 'no running' placards which were stuck to the wall.

He quickly stepped in the way, feeling a little sense of joy watching Jungkook's eyes widen in fright. Bringing the wheelchair to a screeching halt a few inches away from Yoongi. "Good morning, Hyung!!" he said cheerfully as if he hadn't just broken every regulation in the hospital.

"Can you tell me what you're up to?" His gaze fell on Yn, who appeared to be having the time of her life. "Relax, Yoongo-boongo," Yn remarked. Yoongi frowned at the old nickname, which he had pleaded with Yn to abandon.

"This is risky, you know," Yoongi said, "especially since you wounded your shoulder," He added, quick to understand that Jungkook had no idea about Yn's wounded shoulder. "You hurt your shoulder?!?" the younger one screamed. Yn scowled at Yoongi for giving up that knowledge so easily. Yoongi justified himself by saying, "Don't look at me like that, he was going to find out regardless."

"Yes, but you didn't have to tell him so early, now he won't let me have any fun." She whined, Yoongi scoffed at that, "he isn't supposed to make you have 'fun', he'd supposed to take you to get your x-ray done, it's on the first floor."

Yn pouted as Jungkook nodded at the instructions, pushing the wheelchair with Yn still in it towards the elevator. "Without the wheelchair," Yoongi clarified, making Jungkook pout as well, helping Yn out of the wheelchair.

They both sulked like kicked puppies in the elevator and Yoongi could not stand it. "Ok, fine, take the freaking wheelchair, but just be careful." he said, finally giving in. The two of them gave him bright smiles. Yn sat back in the wheelchair just as the elevator door slid open and Jungkook rolled Yn out.

They're fortunate. Yoongi thought to himself as he went about his rounds that Namjoon owned the hospital. While Yn was getting her x-ray, he checked in with his patients. Yn had a good night's sleep and awoke fairly early, according to the nurse in charge of her surveillance. She felt a minor headache, but nothing else was wrong with her. Only the shoulder was a big issue, and they were unable to determine what was causing the pain.

It took 2 hours for Yoongi to check up on all his patients and meet with a few others in the clinic when Jungkook barged into Yoongi's office with an envelope. "Jungkook you can't just barge in like that," Yoongi groaned as he quickly gave the patient their prescription before sending them out. Telling the receptionist to not send any more patients, he turned all his attention to Kook.

"Now, what's wrong?" He asked, spinning in his chair to face the intern. "Noona's reports are here" Jungkook informed, holding out the envelope. "So fast?" Yoongi questioned. It usually took a day or two for the reports and none of the radiologists took Jungkook seriously, dismissing him as just an intern. He found it suspicious that they had given the reports back so early.

"Namjoon hyung was there for an inspection, he got it done when he saw noona," Jungkook said with a cheeky grin. Yoongi nodded at the explanation. Namjoon always had a soft spot for Yn regardless of if Yn and he were together. He pulled out the reports, scanning through them. "Where is Yn now?" He asked, putting the reports back inside. Jungkook informed that Namjoon had taken her to her room, playing along with Yn's wheelchair drama.

Yoongi rolled his eyes at that, but Jungkook didn't miss the quiver of his lips. Jungkook followed Yoongi upstairs to Yn's room, where they found Yn squishing Namjoon's cheeks. Jungkook joined them, laughing, and Yn hastily let Namjoon free. "So, Doctor, what do you have to say?" Yn asked as Namjoon got out of the chair, rubbing his red-tinged cheeks.

"You must slow down with the usage of your shoulder. You appear to be putting a lot of tension on it; fortunately, it's only strain and nothing dangerous." Yoongi said, instructing Yn to apply heat and ice packs to the affected area. "Are you going to issue me a leave sick note?" Yn inquired as she got out of bed.

"Nope, you can go back to work just fine as long as you don't do any heavy lifting," Yoongi said, scribbling something on a piece of paper. "Yah, Yoongi-ah pleaseeeee write me a sick note," Yn pleaded as she searched for the t-shirt she had worn when she had come into the hospital yesterday. "Nope, and are you really going to wear that?" He asked, surprised that Yn hadn't called anyone to come to pick her up.

"Yeah, I need to head home," Yn answered, gathering her things, "Wait, you can't wear that, I have a spare shirt in my office I'll get that," Yoongi said, getting out of the chair while Namjoon and Jungkook exchanged knowing looks.

"We'll get it hyung, don't worry," Jungkook assured, dragging Namjoon with him. The two of them got into the elevator before spilling the tea. "He is SO whipped!" Jungkook exclaimed, pushing the button to go downstairs. "So is she and did you know Yoongi hyung was footing her bill and he got her a private room?" Namjoon asked, amazed at the extent his extremely tsundere hyung was going to for Yn. "He's pretty much in love all over again, and the nurse said that Yoongi hyung spent more than an hour in noona's room," Jungkook informed with a giddy smile.

"Jin hyung NEEDS to know about this," Namjoon exclaimed but made no move to call their hyung, quickly going to Yoongi's office and grabbing the gray FG shirt which was in his locker before going back upstairs.

As soon as the boys returned to the room, Yn grabbed the t-shirt. She hurriedly removed the hospital gown she had been compelled to wear. Yoongi was quick to respond, instantly stepping in front of Yn so the two younger men wouldn't get a glimpse of his lovely ex's exquisite body, and only pulling away once Yn was covered in his shirt.

"You didn't have to do that, I was wearing a tank top beneath," Yn said, tucking the shirt's hem into the jeans she had worn the day before. "For safety reasons," Yoongi shrugged, avoiding eye contact as though it weren't a big concern that he was covering up his ex. Namjoon's sniggering at the entrance went unnoticed.

"Noona how are going home?" Jungkook asked, checking the time realizing it was his lunch break. "I'll take a cab, don't worry," she assured, grabbing her phone and keys from the bedside table. "I'll drop you home, it'll be hard to get a cab at this time over here," Yoongi said, following after her into the hallway as Jungkook and Namjoon watched.

As she approached the elevator, Yn commented, not really trying to stop Yoongi from coming with her, "There's a thing called uber Yoongi, I'm sure I'll catch a cab." "Jesus woman, will you ever accept aid without a fight?" Yoongi moaned as he snatched her wrist and brought her downstairs to get his keys.

"Aish is so stubborn," Yn grumbled as she trailed behind him, her hand slipping into Yoongi's. They didn't seem to be aware that they were holding hands.

.

.

.

.

"Jin hyung will be so happy hearing about this," Jungkook exclaimed, watching Yn and Yoongi argue like an old, married couple while holding hands as they went to the hospital parking lot.

"They look cute, 10$ that they get back together by the end of the month," Namjoon bet, moving away from the window of the private room. "Hyung, you literally own the hospital, I'm just a flimsy intern, how could you expect me to pay 10$," Jungkook whined making Namjoon laugh as Yoongi’s car spedmout of the driveway.

__________________________

[joannasteez]

𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: EZ Reyes x Reader x Angel Reyes

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: Inspired by Jazmine Sullivan’s “Bodies - Intro”. These two characters have ruined my life.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Mature themes. Suggestive Polyamorous relationship.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2k

This is the Tiny Desk concert version, the original is available on streaming platforms!! Listening to the song is of course optional.

The morning had brought a nebulous strumming sensation, waving under the surface of your skin like the soft rippling of water. The sheets beneath you fingers were crisp, lucid light of the morning sun dancing to reflect against the pure white. You were wholly enraptured in a bliss only the rising of the sun could bring, till confusion, all disconcerting and worrisome, snuffed out your moment of elysian. A mild thrumming began just at the back of your head, memories refusing to surface as mild panic took hold of your senses. Your fingers still clung to the sheets, this time with more urgency, heart pulsing faster. An alluring scent, masculine, settled the air. Had it always been there? Your throat was raw, as if you'd spent the former hours screaming into the night, and by the soreness rattling in your thighs you'd say the assumption had some truth.

"How you feeling?", a voice asked. At the foot of the bed sat a man, naked save for his underwear. His name was..... it started with an E you knew that.... Ezra maybe? ....No! Ezekiel, but "everyone calls me EZ" you remember faintly.

You pulled some at the sheets, the softness covering you as you took in the room. "Ok. Heads a little foggy, bit of a headache, but I'm good".

He maneuvered to your side of the bed, handing you a short glass and a pill. "That's good. Take this, it'll help".

"Thanks".

A silence brewed then, the water remedying that rawness as it washed down the Advil. Ezekiel had been watching you with intent, soft brown eyes fluttering over your features till they landed on your lips. It made you lick at them in self awareness.

"Last night must've been crazy, I barely remember anything".

His voice was deep, resonating from his chest, tone suggestive. "I could remind you".

Dangling idly from his neck swung a slim silver chain. Your fingers hooking it to draw him near till your lips touched. His kiss was patient, a lackadaisical pace as he rolled and flicked his tongue in your mouth. He let you do as you pleased, and so you settled for sucking at the wet of his tongue in a way that reflected the dazed air of the morning. It was seductive, producing a pressure at the base of your core, but it was also light, a featherweight thing that hazed the mind, coaxing you to fall back into the comfort of the sheets. You both were parallel to the pillows, his thickly veined hands situating your body as it pleased him, broad body laying beside you. Ezekiel had a rather patient disposition about him, but from the way he kissed you again, you could sense the desperation waring in him. Threatening to unleash itself.

He pushed at your legs, spreading them as his teeth gave your skin tentative nips, lips trailing soft wet kisses till he lapped against the hardening flesh of your chest that dared to pebble under his touch. Soft circles laid at the sensitive bundle of nerves between the juncture of your legs, a whiny moan airing out of your throat. You'd become so pliant under his touch, the warmth he radiated bending your will till it became his own. He was killing the remnants of your resolve with slow passion, summoning every nerve within you to thrum and pulse to his liking. With the hard swirl of his thumb, the balling pressure in your gut began to grow, his breath fanning over your skin as he continued to kiss up and to the side plain of your neck.

"Faster", you pleaded. Hips swiveling to meet his touch in desperation.

"I love how needy you sound baby, Keep begging".

And beg you did, the rotation of your hips tight with purpose. Your high was so close and so potent you could taste it, the ache so deep, you were trembling. You nearly cursed him out in a fit of rage when he pulled his hand away, a mischievous grin taking shape to his lips as he chuckled. The sound brought faded memories of the night prior back to your remembrance, stuck in a similar situation where Ezekiel had guided you to the edge of some explosively beautiful state of euphoria only then to leave you hanging. The lack of fulfillment was maddening but still you couldn't resist his steady touch, or his kiss, and the way he overstimulated your senses as his brother watched.

His fingers rubbed through the soreness of your thighs, lips seemingly stuck at the flesh of your neck. The scent of food stuck to the air suddenly, the aroma missing your senses up till now. "Where's your brother".

He smiled against your skin. "What, am I boring you?"

"Not at all. I just smell food is all".

"Hungry?"

He swirled his tongue against a sensitive spot on your neck.

You voice was airy. "Yes"

"Ever heard the saying patience is a virtue".

'Of course he'd think it was a virtue. He's a damn tease', you thought. "I think I'm all out of both".

You both let out snickers, the small comical moment disrupted by the sudden whipping boom of the door opening. Standing in the entrance was Angel, his hands occupied with glasses of orange juice. "I'm out there slaving over the stove and you're in here seducing our guest".

EZ rose from the bed, stalking toward the door. "Angel if you burnt the eggs just say that".

"Blow me", Angel griped.

The younger brother had left, being exchanged for the older one, who'd regarded you with an intensity that wasn't present before. His energy seemed to shift the room, lean built body blocking the rays of the sun to cast a long shadow down on you. You sat there, knees pressing into the sheets as you sat back against the heels of your feet. A piece of your lip tucked under your teeth in anticipation because Angel was different from his brother. Ezekiel was patient, and tended to you with a burning desperation to be near you, as if to savor each moment . You felt it when he kissed you, the way he gripped at your skin, like the feeling had become so foreign at one point or another and now that he had you he didn't want to let go, but Angel made you patient and pliant in a different manner. While Ezekiel waited for you, you waited for Angel.

"Thirsty?", he asked. Extending a glass of juice to you. You shuffled closer, nearly at the edge of the bed as the coolness of the glass danced under your fingers to produce slight shivers when you drank.

His stare bared down on you as you took long pulling sips. Your eyes peering back beneath the fanning of your lashes. The last sip caused a single droplet to store at the corner of your lip, his finger catching absentmindedly before tasting it. He hummed at the sweet citrus flavor, placing the empty glass down before turning back to you, fingers raising to caress against your face. You leant into the touch without much thought, the warmth of it nice and easing. A thumb pulled softly at your bottom lip, his voice murmuring something about you being beautiful.

He descended to lay a rough kiss, the pace powered to his liking, the swipe and roll of his tongue domineering and heavy. He made you breathless, lips reminding you of hours before and how he loved to control every part of you. The push and pull of his fingers against your skin, the robust groan that stayed stored away in his chest drawing out long and deep whenever you reacted to his dominance. He was a passionate lover as well but had commanded a level of submission that made your head swim with delirious need. Ezekiel had left you desperate, and now Angel was here, those long rough fingers in tow, ready to push you over the edge.

He tugged at your lips, hands gripping your thighs to spread them as you stayed kneeling before him, your hands pressed into his abdomen for support. He laid deep rotating motions at your clit, the shudder of pleasure resonating on your nerves causing you to gasp. With the tight rhythm there, he delved in two fingers, the thickness of it causing you to whimper soft curses, your head lulling back at the teeming sensations. You felt your body edging, a rocking in your hips urging you to burst under him.

"Feels so good Angel", you moaned. The grip on his waist that you have growing tight. As his right hand worked you he raised the left to hold the pressured points at your neck. A squeeze that made your vision white and splotchy. You were mumbling incoherent phrases, drunk off pleasure and it spurred Angel on.

"My brother left you high and dry didn't he?", he asked. His lips tugging against the shell of your ear. "Forgive him, he's a tease, he can't help himself".

"Please Angel, I'm so close", you pleaded.

"I know baby, and you're doing so good. Such a good girl".

The praise sent you into a short bout of small convulsions, the heated pressure in your gut bursting, causing your head to rest lazily on his chest. Blissed out state consuming you. He discarded your slick release with his tongue, tasting before he placed you gently to lay against the sheets. His long fingers finding the dips and curves of your body to caress.

Ezekiel stepped in the room then, a tray of assorted breakfast foods in hand. At this you sat up, body reacting before the mind. Ezekiel placed the tray at the center of the bed, the contents thereof a beautiful assortment of fruits, cooked meats, a stacked pile of toast and a big steaming plate of scrambled eggs. You all picked at it in comfortable silence. The chirping song of birds ringing in the distance. It was nice. Perfect even.

A thought came to mind. "Is this something you guys do often?"

Angel grabbed the bowl of fruits, lifting one to your lips to taste. The juice of the fruit streamed, Angel catching it with a kiss to your chin before answering. "It's our first time sharing to be honest. We both saw you and figured it was better this way than fighting about it".

Ezekiel reached over you to grab a fruit. "Sharing is caring".

You smiled, leaning over to peck his lips. "And there's enough of me for the both of you".

Angel raised another fruit to your lips, watching as you suckled the juice of it. The soft flesh of your mouth catching his fingers. You too had entranced each other, eyes falling one into the other till you shifted on your side to kiss him. He'd paced it slow, tongue heavy as it licked and swirled to gather the taste of your lips. Soft kisses pressed into the curve of your side, Ezekiel's thick hands kneading your skin with a tugging sensation. The feeling of them both, surrounding you at every turn made your head spin in excitement. They kissed you, touched you, regarded your with such an overwhelming dynamic that, if you were anyone else you'd probably go insane.

A burning smell ruffled your nose. "What's that smell?"

Angel kept at your lips, his care else where, but Ezekiel had come to a full halt behind you, till he shot out of the bed.

"Shit I left one of the stove burners on".

You giggled and Angel shook his head, traveling down to nip at your chest. Your fingers ran through his dark locks, still giggling as you heard Ezekiel cursing in the kitchen.

"You both are so cute, can I keep y'all?"

"You couldn't get rid of us if you tried querida".

That whole morning, you'd been stuck, resting between them both, one perfection and another. Moaning and withering between the soft lips and brushing kisses of two elysian bodies.

[ladymercysletters]

The Moment I Knew// Anthony Bridgerton - Epilogue

Word Count : 1820

Warnings: childbirth

A/N: based on this request from @albeeox. As usual I have not beta’d this. I just hope it makes sense. 

You waddled into the breakfast room at Aubrey Hall, squeezing into a seat before letting out an exhausted huff. Anthony had been sat at the head of the table, nose deep in his morning paper as he waited on cook to bring breakfast. He didn’t hear you come in until the slow squeaky drag of the chair next to him drew him out of the pages.

“Y/N you should have called me” he said, setting down his paper instantly. “Did you take all of those stairs yourself? In your condition?” his voice getting higher with each question. You gave him a stern but ultimately buttery look at his worry.

“Yes dear. My waters have not yet broken, I am perfectly able to take the stairs.” You fixed him with a glare as he moved to push your chair in. “And I am famished.” Just as you said that several maids entered with trays of breakfast on gleaming silver trays.

“Just as I thought my love. Which is why I instructed cook to prepare one of everything… except kippers” he added, knowing the smell had turned your stomach even after your morning sickness had passed. Trays of eggs; and toast; and meats and fruits were all laid out in front of the two of you, just as they had been for the past month. Ever since the doctor had told you it would be any time soon.

After breakfast was finished and taken away you settled back to mull over your bump. Anthony picked up his newspaper again but you noted his eyes never left the rim of the pages. You looked at him watch you, to his mind surreptitiously before his eyes locked on yours.

“Yes darling.” He said immediately, pushing his paper to one side and drawing his chair and inch or two closer to yours.

“I didn’t say anything” you questioned, watching with curiosity as he pulled his chair up next to yours, arm finding its way around the back of your chair.

“You were looking at me, is everything alright?” his tone was sweet but almost frantic. He placed a somewhat shaky hand on top of yours.

“I’m fine my love” you smiled, watching as Anthony’s hand became steadier over your protruding stomach the more he held it there. “You know he settles when you’re near?” Anthony’s head shot up at your words, his deep brown eyes almost pleading for the truth. “I’m not lying. It’s like he can sense it. When he hears your voice or you touch me in any way, he settles”

“And how do you know it’s a He?” Anthony dopily smiled, kissing your cheek as he squidged closer.

“I have a feeling”

“Well, I’d be perfectly happy with either. We are in no rush for an heir and I would like an excuse to lavish you with as much affection as you desire.” The lopsided smirk on his face, evidence of his rakish youth but the love in his eyes held a more settled gentleman’s gaze. Anthony rested his head on your shoulder as he continued to caress your swollen stomach, nuzzling into your neck – contented to spend the rest of the day just like this.

You convinced Anthony to walk with you in the gardens after breakfast. He had mildly argued that he needed to prepare for a meeting with his steward later but your baby kicked under his hand and he melted into submission.

You stood amongst the autumn foliage, watching as the gardener’s little girl toddled over to her father holding a trowel.

“I can’t wait to be a father” Anthony murmured in your ear as he held you from behind. You smiled at his little slip of thought.

“You’ll be an excellent father.” You turned in his arms, belly pushing you further away from his face than you would have liked. Anthony reached across the distance between you to plant a loving kiss on your pouting lips.

“I must get back to work: Martin is coming at one and I have not so much as gazed at the books this month.” He whispered through a smirk before turning to leave.

It was a little while later; you had decided to take tea on the terrace, enjoying the afternoon sunshine whilst it lasted, and Anthony had been in his study, nursing an early brandy as he thought on crop rotations, when he heard it. A shrill scream followed by the crash of bone china on a stone floor; that could only mean one thing. Y/N! Anthony ran as fast as he could from his study, bolting down the hall and through the morning room to see you buckled over on the floor. He rushed to your side

By the time the doctors arrived Anthony was practically having a heart attack on the front steps. Since getting you up the many stairs of Aubrey Hall himself (He insisted everyone else would hurt you if they so much as touched you), Anthony had run from your rooms to the front steps every time he heard you whimper, or the distance sound of horses. He practically dragged the aged senior by the collar to your chamber, rushing to your side when he saw you panting and sweaty, and looking fully ready to birth his child.

You panted as your maid guided you, Anthony taking over the moping of your brow as the doctors began his examination. As the afternoon turned to evening, Anthony’s temper didn’t … well, temper – with every whimper or wail let from your mouth he argued with the doctors to do something. Despite numerous insistences of both nurse maids and doctors insisting Anthony leave the room as it ‘just was not seemly for a lord to see a lady this way!’, he stayed; gripping your hand as you squeezed with each contraction.

“Please, your Lordship, allow the doctors to worry for your wife’s condition. It is our profession.” He was chastised.

“MY WIFE IS IN PAIN AND I WILL BE WITH HER UNTIL SHE IS WELL AGAIN” Anthony snapped back, looking like he would be ready to bite the next hand that tried to see him to the door. The furrow in his brow deepened as the senior doctor announced it was time to push. Through each effort, Anthony only looked on more and more distressed, unable to take the pain away from you: with each scream his mind reeled with flashbacks to his youngest sister, Hyacinth’s, birth and how he’d almost lost his mother that day.

After an hour of intense pushing, both you and Anthony looking as sweaty and exhausted as each other your child was still no closer to being born. The doctors rushed around; one feeling your stomach for movement, the senior, with his notebook doing (in Anthony’s opinion) Sod All, and the last, between your legs, occasionally checking for further dilation. Suddenly the young doctor feeling your stomach snapped his head up and beckoned the senior over.

“The baby is in breech” the elder doctor mumbled with a stained sigh – moving as fast as Anthony had seen him as he rummaged in his medical bag for instruments. You let out a cry of pain as your tried in vain to push again. Anthony panicked at the doctor’s announcement.

“Breech? Breech? What does that mean?” Anthony stood, still holding your hand with both of his as he glared at trio.

“It means, Your Lordship” the small senior man said sighing “that the baby has decided to descend feet first and, as such” he took his glasses off to clean them “is stuck.” Anthony’s heart leapt to his throat and lodged there.

“Well do something. Now!” he choked out, trying to sound as intimidating as he had been. Your breaths came out in short pants as you tried not to panic and faint. Your lady’s maid had your other hand in her own, comforting you with soft words and the occasional dab of a damp cloth to your forehead as the men argued above you.

“We are preparing to turn the child. It is a difficult thing to do but she is not yet crowning so it may be possible.” The elderly man said smoothly.

“May be possible?”

“Yes. At this stage it is the only option.” He said lowly, just to Anthony, breaking the news as softly as possible as you were otherwise occupied.

The next thing you felt was a decisive clamp of hands around your protruding belly as the small, senior doctor guided the taller but decidedly younger one in moving your baby around in your stomach to turn it the right way. The movement was sharp and stinging but it was strange that you could actually feel the child moving. When the doctor gave the word, you began pushing again, the other doctor; who had, even at this stage, not said a word reached behind him to retrieve a large metal appendage. You felt a cold sensation at your opening as he inserted the instrument; as the baby began to appear, he clamped them around the crowning head and gently pulled. The force of the birth and the still odd angle they appeared to be at made you throw your head back with a scream. You faintly heard Anthony call your name but the rushing of blood in your ears drowned out everything but your own screams.

Over six hours since Anthony had first found you, collapsed on the patio, your baby was finally born. You let out an exhausted laugh as they were lifted over the linen shroud at your waist and passed to a nursemaid to clean and wrap. Anthony’s face was nearly split in two by a radiant grin; the look of complete and utter adoration in his eyes never left as he looked from you to your child and back again. You beckoned him to go and he let go of your hand for the first time all evening and walked over to the nursemaid on the opposite side of the room to watch his first-born being wrapped in a soft muslin cloth.

Anthony reached out to hold the child, cradling him in his arms as he walked back over to you. The baby let out a quiet scream as he yawned for the first time, a big pair of dark brown eyes staring back as Anthony as he welled up.

 Dearest Reader, It is with great pleasure that I can announce that the Viscountess Lady Y/N Bridgerton has born her child, a son named Edmund. Although the child appears to have arrived some months before due, I have been informed that both mother and child are in splendid health and that the Viscount is determined to keep both holed away at Aubrey Hall for the foreseeable season ahead, giving us all, even greater cause than usual, to hope that the annual Bridgerton musicale goes ahead as planned.

Lady Whistledown, 18 March 1813