#Had to google ''Is it uncomfortable for men to sit with their legs closed?'' for this.

[moonlightflower-queen]

Listener bf with his info dumping gf and info dumping bf

[thefallennightmare]

Moment of Weakness-three

*credit to whoever created the gif. found on google/Pinterest *

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Authors Notes: yikes, I'm so sorry for the delay! It's been a hell of a week.

Tags(open): @splendidreads @sebsgirl71479 @mdpplgtz03 @pattiemac1 @unaxv @elizacusi-blog @alana4610 @broadwaybabe18 @themayzittcha @playboystark @raajali3 @ozwriterchick @ragamuffin285 @screamingdying @themorningsunshine @kenziekugler22 @calwitch @sebastianstansqueen @stanaddict @stucky-simp03 @sleyeveryday @loustan90 @lyra-black13 @valsworldofcreativity

My knee bounced with nerves and I did my best to calm my breathing, unsure of what was about to happen. I had been staring at the closed door for a while now, wondering what was taking so long in this meeting. From what I was told, it was only for Bucky to talk with Tony about funding his next project, half hour tops. So why was it nearing an hour now?

I think it was more so that I was nervous about Bucky wanting to talk with me afterwards. 

“Have a great day, Mr. Stark. We will see you next month.” 

I watched as Steve bid a goodbye to Tony before standing to my feet. “How bad did you get in trouble?” 

He chuckled. “I think you forgot that Bucky and I are good friends. He knows that if he fires me that I would be back the next day.” 

“Oh, right,” I nodded. 

He motioned towards the open door. “But he does want to talk with you.” 

“Great,” I muttered. 

Steve gave me a warming smile of luck as I walked past him, into Bucky’s office. 

He was sitting on his couch with his legs spread wide, a silent invitation to take a seat between them. I almost accepted that invitation. 

Almost. 

“You wanted to see me?” I clasped my hands behind my back. 

Bucky pointed with his chin to the chair across from him. “Sit.” 

I didn’t waste another second and followed his demands; with a fire burning in my stomach. 

“Can you explain why Mr. Stark didn’t receive your call?” He asked. 

I let out an annoyed breath. “I already told you. I did call him and left him two voicemails. It’s not my fault that he chose to ignore them.” 

His jaw clenched. “I don’t appreciate your tone, Y/N.” 

“And I don’t appreciate being made as if I can’t do my job,” I shot back. “Also, who I flirt with, if I was, is none of your business.” 

His eyes narrowed. “It is when it’s interfering with your work.” 

I bit my tongue, not wanting to snap at him in fear of losing my job. 

“It’s not, believe me. Unlike your and Natasha’s morning rendezvous,” I said with my arms crossed. 

Bucky’s shoulders stiffened, face dropping a bit. “You heard?” 

I scoffed. “Kind of hard not too when you guys are not even trying to be quiet.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N if it made you uncomfortable. I told her that we shouldn’t do it here,” Bucky sighed while pinching his eyes shut. 

“Didn’t sound like you were complaining,” I muttered to myself while crossing my arms at my chest again.

He was looking at me with a sheer intensity, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Sounds like you're jealous, doll.” 

Heat engulfed my entire body at his nickname and I shifted in my seat, hoping he couldn’t tell how it was affecting me. 

“Are we done here? Can I get back to work? Or unless I’m fired,” I asked. 

Bucky shook his head. “There’s no way I could fire you. But I do have an assignment for you.” 

He handed me an empty leather bag. “I need you to go to Thor’s place to receive his monthly payment. He’s late and I’m tired of waiting.” 

I raised a brow while taking the bag from him. “Monthly payment?” 

“I allow his men to deal their drugs on my streets for a price,” Bucky informed. 

I slowly nodded, the revelation unsettling me. I knew that Bucky was into some sketchy and illegal stuff, but he usually did a great job at hiding it from me. Which also confused me on why he was sending me to get this money. It seemed like something Steve or Sam should do. 

“I’ll get Steve and head out,” I said while standing to my feet. 

Bucky quickly followed. “No, I have him running another errand for me. Take Sam.” 

“He’s out sick, remember?” I reminded him. 

He cursed before nodding after a few moments. “Let me grab my coat.” 

“You’re coming with?” I asked, shocked. 

Bucky never ran his own errands. That’s what he paid his men for. 

“There’s no way I’m sending you into Thor’s place alone.” 

Fear filled me when I wondered what I was about to walk into. 

“Well, if you’re going, do you still need me too?” I asked, trying to find a way out of it. 

Bucky opened the door, motioning me along with his head. “Think of it as time for us to get to know each other.” 

The car pulled to a quiet stop in front of an older, somewhat abandoned, warehouse on the other side of town and I couldn’t help but look up towards it in slight angst. We had driven for about twenty minutes and the only words spoken from Bucky were to his phone as he had a conversation, in Russian. The arousal that itched at my core had burned between my legs the entire drive, up until we stopped in front of the building. 

Asgardian Industries.

“So is Thor another mob boss? I questioned. 

Bucky nodded. “He runs this side of town. Everyone thinks he’s some sort of God.” 

I didn’t miss the tone of his voice, annoyance. 

“You don’t think so?” I smirked. 

“He’s an arrogant prick,” he stated. 

“Should I stay in the car?” 

He immediately shook my head. “I don’t trust this neighborhood. I’d feel a lot better if you were with me.”

Bucky told his driver that we would be back shortly and I decided on following him close, not wanting to fall behind. 

I gave him a smile of thanks as he held the door open for me and continued to follow him through what I originally thought was an abandoned warehouse. The outside looked old and run down, but inside was bright and lively. Music was blasting throughout, echoing off the brick, as large groups of people danced and drank, not caring how early in the afternoon it was. 

“Stay close,” Bucky breathed in my ear, his vibranium fingers gently grasping at my elbow. 

Chills ran over my body at the sensation and when I felt his hand slide down to my lower back, I did my best to keep my excitement at bay. 

“Woah, you know I can’t let you in there.” 

A woman appeared almost out of thin air and placed a hand on Bucky’s chest, stopping him from entering through the door. 

Bucky’s eyes bounced from the hand to the face of who had halted us.  

“Valkyrie, we’ve had the same conversation how many times now? I don’t need an appointment to see him when Thor owes me money,” Bucky sighed. 

Clearly this wasn’t the first time this happened. 

My hands twitched nervously as I watched between the two of them.

“He’s busy. Why don’t you come back another time,” she smirked. 

Bucky sighed once more and he pushed me past the woman, Valkyrie, both of us walking into the room; the protests being shouted behind us. It all seized when Bucky shut the door. 

A man, a very large man, sat at the end of a long table and as he looked up from the papers in front of him, his long blonde hair wisped around his face. 

“Barnes, why didn’t you tell me you were stopping by!”

Even with the smile that broke out on his face, I could tell that he was in fact not happy that we were here. 

“Thor?” I quietly asked Bucky. 

He nodded. “He’s probably six cups deep in Asgardian Ale right now.” 

I averted my gaze back towards Thor, who in fact stumbled over his feet as he stood from the table, ready to greet us. Reluctantly, Bucky shook his hand and it quickly was in its previous spot on my lower back. His fingers pressed lightly into my body and I shivered at the feeling. 

Thor’s bright eyes landed on me, a sly smirk playing at his lips. 

“Who is this?” He asked with a hand extended. 

I looked at it before looking at Bucky, who simply nodded. 

“Y/N, I work for Bucky,” I introduced while shaking his hand. 

My own felt small in the size of his and there was no warmth to it, only bitter coldness. 

I quickly pocketed my hands into my coat in search of warmth. 

“So, let’s cut to the chase,” Bucky said while thrusting the bag into Thor’s chest. “50k. And don’t try to low ball me like last time.” 

Thor ran a hand over his beard. “Did I? I’m pretty sure I gave you the correct amount.” 

While they bicker back and forth about the amount, I let my eyes wander around what I assumed was Thor’s office. A large throne-like chair from where he was previously sat at the table, and a large glass case that looked like weapons shone bright in the room. 

A hammer and large ax caught my attention. Thor must have noticed because he snickered. 

“Mjölnir and Stormbreaker.” 

My eyes fell on him. “I’m sorry, what?” 

Thor nodded towards the weapons. “Those have been passed down in my family for generations. Norse mythology states that they both wield immense power, only certain men can hold them. They must be worthy.” 

“You do know that mythology is basically made-up stories, right?” I informed him. 

Thor scoffed. “Why don’t you stay a little while and I can show you how true it is. I’m sure Bucky won’t mind if I bring you back to work afterwards.” 

At the mention of his name, I peered over my shoulder and noticed he had walked to the other end of the room, bag open on the table as someone had been stuffing it full of cash. However, his attention was elsewhere, watching intently the interaction between Thor and I. 

“Thank you for the offer but I’m fine,” I gave him my best smile and tried to walk away. 

He quickly stepped in front of me, blocking the path towards Bucky. I sighed, annoyed. 

“One hour, that’s all I need,” Thor winked. 

My face scrunched up in disgust with his innuendo. “No thank you.” 

We did the same dance of me trying to step away only for him to block my path once more. 

“You will not be disappointed, Y/N. I promise you that.” 

I went to speak, some not nice words ready to be spewed, however Bucky was back to my side with his hand on my lower back. He pulled me closer towards his chest. The safety I felt brought a small smile to the corner of my lips and I eased into him. 

“Ready to go?” I asked. 

Bucky nodded. “I’m sorry I walked away. Needed to make sure I got everything I was owed.” 

I waved him off, letting him know it was alright. 

Thor’s eyes danced between the two of us. “I thought you were married, Barnes. To a redhead.” 

My shoulders slumped but did my best not to let Bucky see. 

“I am,” Bucky nodded. “But it’s none of your business.” 

“So then why don’t you let Y/N stay here awhile,” Thor’s eyes glazed over every inch of me, his tongue slowly rolling over his lips. 

"Clearly she's not off limits, am I right?" he continued.

It was as if he was imagining tasting me and I shivered at the mere thought, not liking how persistent Thor was. 

“Everything alright?” Bucky’s lips brushed against the skin of my ear. 

His warmth breath caused my skin to burn and I looked deep into his blue iris’. Bucky looked breathtaking this close up and as much as I wanted to nibble on his bottom lip, I couldn’t ignore the way Thor continued to watch me with hunger in his eyes. 

“Can we go?” I asked quietly. 

Bucky quickly nodded, leading me away with a gentle pat to my back. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Thor,” He called over his shoulder. “See you next month.” 

“Feel free to send Y/N alone!” Thor yelled back. 

My skin crawled at his words but it was short lived as Bucky wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him, a way to protect me as we walked out of the warehouse, farther away from Thor’s hungry eyes.

[lotusss-flowerbomb]

Something Like A Virgin

Bucky x reader

Warnings: Smut (like y’all ain’t know), 18+

A/N: This story has unprotected sex. Remember that this is fiction and in real life even if you you pack it in plastic it’ll still be fantastic.

Word Count: 2,492

********

"I knew this was a bad idea," Bucky jumped up from his chair to leave.

"No, Bucky, come on," you followed behind him.

"You promised not to make fun of me," he said.

"I didn't!" You proclaimed.

"You aww'd me. You do that when you're making fun of Bruce all the time."

He was right. But this time you didn't mean it towards him.

"No, I just think it's sweet, that's all. You don't have to be embarrassed," you grabbed his hand.

"I'm not embarrassed. I've had plenty of sex before. I'm not a virgin."

"Yeah, but you've only done it when hydra was in your head. You've never done it of your own volition, so you're something like a virgin, babe." You explained.

"I don't know why I thought telling you was a good idea," he exhaled.

"We both know why you told me, Bucky. It's because you want to fuck me, right?"

That was exactly right, but instead of asking you out properly, he tripped all over his words and suddenly what he wanted to say came out as him telling his secrets.

Bucky swallowed hard. He was speechless at how straight forward you were.

"It's so cute that I make you nervous," you smiled devilishly. "Tell you what, I'll give you three days to prepare yourself, then I'll meet you at your place at 8." You tapped his nose and walked away.

********

Day 1

Bucky was a nervous wreck. He had no idea what to do for you and he needed to figure it out quickly with only a few days to prepare. He Googled "date ideas" and scrolled through the many suggestions.

"What are you doing?" T'Challa asked looking over his shoulder.

"Nothing," he quickly locked the phone and put it face down beside him.

"Mmm hmm, you have a date? With who?"

Before he could answer you walked into the room.

"Your Majesty," you curtsied.

"Please, you know I hate it when you do that," he stood to hug you.

"How are you?"

"The sun is shining, so I cannot complain."

"And how are you?" You turned to a quiet Bucky.

"Fine," he shifted in his seat.

"Okay, well I just wanted to come say hello since I heard you were here. I'll leave you guys to it." You exited the room.

They both said goodbye and T'Challa eyeballed Bucky.

"She is going to eat you alive," he snickers.

"I'm gonna cancel," Bucky pulled out his phone to text you.

"You will do no such thing. I will have no brother of mine running from a challenge. Come on, we'll figure this out together." He pulled out his own phone to help with ideas.

You were simple. Bucky had noticed the little things made you happiest and technically you didn't say it was a date, rather than just sex, but he still wanted to do something romantic.

The two men worked together and came up with a few ideas. Bucky thought it was overkill, but T'Challa was already on his phone arranging for someone to come decorate and set up the apartment.

"Do you also need tips on how to make her —"

"No!" Bucky cut him off.

"I'm kidding," he laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "I guess I should get work since I'm here. I hope your date goes well."

********

Day 2 

Bucky inhaled and then exhaled before knocking on your door.

You smiled at him when you opened it and saw him on the other side.

"Hey, Buck, what's going on?" You asked.

"I just wanted to see you," he said shyly.

"Oh, that's sweet," you moved to the side and let him in.

He went over to the couch and took a seat. You sat next to him awkwardly rubbing your hands up and down your thighs.

You sat in silence until you couldn't stand it anymore. You straddled his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

Bucky was hard within seconds. He palmed your ass in the little shorts you were wearing as he leaned back further and grinded into you.

"Wait," he broke the kiss. "I've got a whole evening planned for us tomorrow. I don't want to ruin it."

"You want to wait? I mean, we can wait if you really want to," you swivel your hips on his lap.

You meant it. If he wanted to wait, you'd respect his wishes. But damn if his thick cock didn't feel good right now.

"I guess we could still do this tomo—"

"Oh, thank goodness," you pressed your lips to his again.

You lifted up a little bit to pull his pants off of his waist. Although you could feel him, you were completely unprepared for what you were looking down at. The thick veiny vessel was already dripping precum.

You wrapped your hand around it and stroked slowly. Bucky leaned his head back with a pleasure filled groan. Sliding down his lap to your knees, you swirled your tongue around the tip and then sucked the head into your mouth, letting it go with a loud smack.

"Mmm, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," you said while looking up at him. "Tell me what you want, Bucky." You went back to slowly stroking him.

When moved to stand you sat back on your legs to give him room. He gripped himself with his flesh hand and grabbed your hair with the other pulling your head back.

"You'll tell me if you can't take it?" He inquired.

You nodded.

"Yes, Sergeant Barnes," he urged you to say.

"Yes, Sergeant Barnes," you repeated.

"That's my girl," he smiled. "Open wide," he tapped the tip of his dick on your lips.

You complied and your pussy throbbed with excitement.

He slid his dick into your mouth, watching as he slowly disappeared inside. You pulled his pants down the rest of the way, so nothing was keeping you from swallowing all of him.

"Fucccckkkk, you're taking me like such a good girl," he grunts.

You were shocked. This is what you'd been waiting to see; Bucky take charge. He was always so shy and careful. Making sure to never do anything to make anyone uncomfortable, but now was his time to let loose and you were loving every moment of it.

He fucked your throat and listened to the sounds of you taking it all in. Your nails dug into his thighs and the tears streamed down your face. He finally pulled out to give you a break.

Bucky needed to feel you. He sat back down and patted his lap, signaling for you to sit. You slowly lowered yourself down on him.

"Ooooh, yessss!"

"Feel good, baby?"

"Yes, Sergeant," you kissed his throat.

You tucked your feet beneath his legs and bounced on his dick. Bucky ran his tongue over your nipple and sucked it into his mouth.

You grabbed his chin and put his head back. He smirked up at you and stuck his tongue out. You sucked on it and then swirled yours with his into a sloppy kiss.

He was close to his orgasm, so he grabbed your hips and fucked into you rapidly.

"Fuck yes, you gonna cum for me?" You held on taking him all in.

"Right in this tight little pussy."

"No, Buck, I'm not —"

He grabbed your throat, cutting off your words, "Do not deny me."

"Shit!" You yelled as you came all over him.

It was something about the demanding tone of his voice and the cool vibranium wrapped around your throat that tipped you over the edge immediately.

You watched the metal shift in his arm as he started cumming. You kept fucking until he gave you all that he had.

"Fuck," he groaned as he pressed soft kisses in between your breasts and then finally to your lips.

You tried to get up, but he held you in place with a soft, "Not yet."

********

Day 3

The day had finally arrived. Bucky had been on cloud nine ever since the two of you had fucked. It had only been a few hours and he was definitely craving more of you.

Bucky was walking past the media room when he heard your laugh. He saw you sitting far too close to Pietro for his liking, so he decided to come in.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a second," he grabbed your hand and pulled you up without waiting for a reply.

He practically dragged you into the other room and shut the door behind you.

"What the hell, Bucky?" You asked.

"Why is he touching you?"

"What?" You scrunch your face.

"You're all leaning on him and giggling. I don't like it," he said.

"Aw, are you jealous?"

"Y/N, I'm serious," his voice deepened.

You unbuttoned your pants and grabbed his hand, sliding them down into your panties and curling his fingers into your wet pussy.

"You feel that? That's all for you, Sergeant," you swiveled your hips so you could fuck his fingers.

Bucky groaned. You were soaking wet and his dick was so hard, that he wanted to take you right then and there, but resisted the urge. Instead, he kept working his fingers inside of you.

"Don't stop, baby, I'm so close." You grabbed on to his wrist.

Your moans were getting louder and louder the closer you got to your climax.

"Mmm, fuccckkk!"

He pulled his fingers from you and worked your clit as the pleasure washed over you.

Bucky rubbed his fingers between your folds again and then pulled them out. Loving the look of your slick nectar on his fingers. He stuck his middle finger in your mouth and watched you suck your juices off. Saving the other for himself.

"I can't wait until later," he said in your ear and then walked out of the room.

It made your pussy quiver all over again.

********

Finally, the time rolls around for you to go to Bucky's apartment. When you made these plans, you were full of confidence, so why were you nervous right now??

You knocked on his door and waited a few seconds for him to answer.

"Hey, doll," he opened the door and quickly stepped out.

"Um, so I'm not coming inside?" You laughed nervously.

"Yes, but put this on first. I want it to be a real surprise," he slid a mask over your eyes.

"Buck, what are you up to?" You questioned.

He opened the door and led you inside.

"Okay, are you ready?"

You pulled the mask off instead of waiting. Your eyes widened in surprise when you looked around the apartment. Flowers and candles covered just about every space.

Your silence was scary. Bucky was getting nervous that he'd over done it for a night that was supposed to just be about sex. He didn't want to run you off, but the hopeless romantic in him wanted to do something special.

"You did all of this for me?" You turned to him.

"Yeah, um, T'Challa helped me get this set up," he rubbed his neck.

He was once again met with silence.

"I can blow out the candles if it's too much."

"No, no it's not too much. No one has ever done this for me before. And honestly, I didn't even know you had in you."

"I'm a man of my time," he smiled and grabbed your hand to lead you down the candlelit path.

When you entered the bedroom, you were met with more flowers and a giant teddy bear. You squealed and ran over to hug it. It smelled just like Bucky's cologne.

"Thank you," you turned around to kiss him. "I feel bad that I didn't get you anything."

"Oh, you'll get me plenty," he scooped you up, so you'd wrap your legs around his waist.

He carried you to the bed and laid you down.

"You look beautiful."

"Thank y—"

Was all you got out before he ripped your dress down the front. He pulled off the flimsy lace underwear and threw them aside before diving in between your thighs.

Bucky licked and sucked your clit with such fervor, you were beginning to think that he was enjoying himself far more than you were.

He pushed your knees up, so your entire pussy was in his face. You lifted up on your elbows so you could watch.

"Ooh, yes, let me see that tongue. Now suck this pussy, baby," you chanted.

He moaned into you as did everything you requested.

Unable to stand it anymore, he used one hand to unbutton his pants and slowly stroke his pulsing cock.

"I'm gonna cum!" You grabbed a fist full of his hair and fucked his face.

He locked his arms around your thighs and enjoyed every moment of this. Your legs trembled in his hold as you soaked his face.

Bucky stood up and stroked himself some more. He could eat your pussy forever, but he needed to feel you.

"You ready for me?" He quizzed.

You couldn't speak. Just slid your hand in between your legs and spread your pussy lips. He guided himself inside of you with a heavy groan as he inched in deeper.

Rolling his hips slowly, he watched as you bit your lip and pinched your eyes shut. Your back arching as he hit your spot just right.

"Turn over," he pulled out. "Mm, now arch that back for. Good girlllll," he hummed.

He slid back into your wet core and fucked you harder. His hips snapped to the perfect rhythm as you gripped the blankets.

"Yes! Fuck, don't stop!" You yelled.

"You gonna be a good little doll and cum for me again?" He smacked your ass.

"Ah! Yes, Sergeant Barnes!"

"Not yet. Not until you tell me I can cum in my pussy."

You tightened around him. There he goes again being demanding. You were loving it.

"I want you to — fuck, this is your pussy. Cum in this pussyyyyy!" The dam broke.

You coated him in your essence and he watched his dick as he exploded inside of you.

His stuttering hips added to your pleasure. You made sure to stay perfectly arched for him until he was done, then he slowly pulled out and watched the mixture of cum leak out of you.

Bucky smacked your sensitive pussy lightly. He just couldn't get enough of you.

He pulled you into his chest and kissed your shoulder. Heavy breathing resounding throughout the room.

He cuddled you for a few minutes before going to the bathroom and starting a bath. His dick was still semi hard, so it smacked his thigh as he walked and your pussy was ready for another round at the sight.

He smiled when he noticed you watching.

"Don't worry, doll, I'm not finished with you yet," he promised.

[theepisceswriter]

Can you do a hot scene with Erwin and Zeke x f!reader with daddy kink, both of the men have a *thing* for her bc she’s such a smarty brat/ a tease. They should’ve be pissed at her but she’s way too playful🤑🤫 I leave the rest to your imagination, love your writing <33 anything you wanna add or change feel free to do it 🤍🥺

Bestie....you fr did something with this request right here. Ily for this and I’m so glad you enjoy my writing, I hope you enjoy this little Drabble!

Synopsis: Set in a modern AU, professor!Erwin and his teacher assistant!Zeke both have the hots for one of their students and decide to invite her over for dinner one night so they can all release their shared tension.

TW: Mature things obviously, fembodied!reader (she/her pronouns), face fucking, oral (fem recieving), degradation, daddy kink, teacher/student, threesome, 18+, MINORS DNI! (these are for the drabble underneath the read more)

Word Count: Google docs was trippin so I wasn’t able to get the word count, but just know it’s a 2k+ mini drabble underneath the readmore 

Headcanons

Let me set the scene for you; Erwin is a professor at your college, teaching a small world history evening class and Zeke is his TA basically, acting as a teacher himself sometimes but mostly doing things like helping grade papers, helping students with their work, or working as Erwin’s fulltime assistant. Needless to say, you interact with the two of them on a daily basis quite a lot and it’s no secret to the other students that you’re most definitely their favorite, taking most of their attention away from everyone else. But they could care less, they’re not as passionate about the class or as eager to learn like you; another factor that drew Erwin and Zeke to you. 

You’re a confident, strong book-savvy student who’s always ready to debate and bicker someone, snarky remarks leaving your mouth in an instant, and Zeke and Erwin always end up being the victim of those. Bickers and debates over information lasting the whole class session almost, either you winning and leaving them red in the face or them winning with a smug expression on their features and you storming out the classroom in annoyance. You all meet each other’s energy so well that you can’t help but clash from time to time, but the three of you do get along pretty well. Many times you’ve found yourself lingering after class to talk with them about everything and nothing like you’re all just good friends catching up. Your bond is definitely an interesting one.

It’s after one of these routine after-class talks that they invite you over formally for once, a dinner at Zeke’s house with Erwin and how could you possibly say no to that? A chance to be alone with your hot history teacher and his sexy teacher assistant.

You didn’t expect to be this nervous as you walked down the corridor leading to Zeke’s apartment yet here you were, fingers fidgeting with the rings on your fingers and your toes awkwardly rubbing against each other the closer you got. All the confidence that made your hips swing from left to right as you entered the classroom like you owned the whole school, the usual overtly confident y/n that they were used to was dwindling down into a nervous wreck. But you couldn’t let them see that, let them know the effect that they had on you, so you swallowed those anxious feelings as if they would be digested by your stomach and let a look of smugness take over your features as you made your way up to the door. Your hand ghosted over the cold wood, curling your fingers into a fist ready to knock but before you could even make contact with the door it was swinging open, greeting you with the sight of a smirking Zeke. He wore slacks with a beige plaid pattern going over them, a creme-colored shirt to match the brown of his pants, and an elongated dark brown coat that brought out the lightness of his round glasses perfectly. 

“You look very nice tonight,” You complimented him for once as you made your way inside the apartment, “Finally you don’t look like a caveman for once.” The joke didn’t go over his head at all, him choosing only to acknowledge it with a dry chuckle. “Good evening to you too Ms. /l/n, You look mighty fine yourself.”

It was then that your confidence came rushing back to you as you remembered the outfit that adorned your body. It was a simple silky champagne pink bodycon dress with a corset-like top, but on you, it fit like a supermodel. The dress hugging every curve and dip on your body and showing off a little more cleavage than expected, your nipples even poking out through the thin fabric, but you couldn’t have picked out an outfit more perfect for this night. The constant glances Zeke took unremorsefully at where the dress stopped at the high of your thighs let you know that it was a great choice. Lips curling up into a smile as you thanked him. 

 “Where’s Professor Smith?”

“Just over here in the kitchen, follow me.”

Is this where being a teacher assistant got Zeke? You couldn’t help but admire the decor and set up of his home as he led you through the hallway and living room to the kitchen where Erwin was standing with his back faced to the two of you, broad shoulders contracting and going back to their original form with every shake of the pan in front of him. He was cooking? That’s something you definitely didn’t expect to see, thinking they’d opt-out for takeout for the night, but it just made the night feel more genuine than it already was.

“I thought I had heard you come in, y/n.” Erwin’s rich and smooth voice infiltrated your ears bringing you out of your thoughts. The same smile on your lips from when you thanked Zeke for his compliment earlier. “And please, leave Professor Smith for school. Call me Erwin.” 

“Erwin.” You repeated with a nod, butterflies erupting in your stomach and your cheeks warming up from the wink that followed after his words. “I’m surprised to see you cooking. I was sure you two would have takeout ready on the table when I came. Probably something cheap too like Chili’s.’ You jabbed at them, taking your place at the table while Zeke situated himself against the arch of the opening of the kitchen. Most people would’ve been offended by such a remark, hurt even, but they were so used to your snarkiness that all they could do was chuckle in return.

“Chili’s? No, Mcdonald’s would’ve been more fitting for you.” Zeke messed with you back, warranting your tongue to stick out at him in a childish manner.

“Calm down children,” Erwin joins in on the teasing as he makes his way to the table with three steaks and bowls filled with sides in his other arm, Zeke going over to help him. Dinner wasn’t too eventful, but it was enjoyable. Most of the time wasted away with the three of you talking about various topics the conversation swayed towards like how you usually did. 

The three of you had decided to relocate to the living room after finishing dinner, now washing it down with a glass of wine as you three sat down silently enjoying each other’s company. But silence wasn’t your forte, so it didn’t take long at all for you to move from your position between them on the couch. Both of their eyebrows raised in confusion as they watched you search around the small area looking for whatever it was you were looking for, not knowing what to expect since you were, well, you after all. 

“Found it!” You announced in a sing-song voice as you shimmied your way over the vintage phonograph vinyl player sitting in the middle of Zeke’s living room that must’ve cost him a fortune. And if it didn’t then the extensive rack of vinyl records sitting next to it definitely did. You squatted down so you were face to face with the rack and if you weren’t facing the other direction you would’ve saw the way both of their eyes immediately traveled down to your ass in the squatting position you were in before blue eyes met brown ones, a silent nod signifying confirmation of some sort between the two. 

Any genre or artist you could think of occupied the shelves, your finger skimming over each and every one until you found one that you craved to hear. Soon the soft melodies of the instruments on the smooth jazz record infiltrated the living room, your body contorting and twisting in a sensual way with each beat that hit your ears. The closing of your eyes really showing how into it you were, arms wrapping around your own body like the two men weren’t watching from not too far away as you put on a show like you were in the comfort of your own room. What a tease, the two men thought to themselves, shifting and manspreading to try and soothe the uncomfortable ache between your legs that you were causing. You knew exactly what you were doing because this wasn’t the first time at all that you had done it. Plenty of times you showed up to class with a shirt on that revealed just a little too much or a skirt that practically put your whole lower body on display, legs spreading purposefully whenever you saw one of their eyes travel to the underside of your opened desk. You did everything in your power to make them succumb to their--no, your desires but it wasn’t until now that they let themselves be selfish.

Zeke was the first one to move from his position on the couch to make his way over to you, calloused hands grabbing at your sides and pulling you closer to his torso as he began to sway along with you, hands moving from your hips and letting them explore the surrounding skin before cheekily slapping your ass and earning a small yelp out of you. Erwin simply watched from the couch, for the time being, still sipping on his wine waiting on his opportunity to slip himself in. 

“I figured this would happen eventually,” Zeke finally spoke up, “I just imagined something a lot less sensual; you bent over the desk in the classroom or something.” 

Before you could counter his words with a sassy remark he moved his lips against yours, gently letting them ghost over yours for a second or two and even going as far as teasing you by rubbing them against yours before he finally indulged you with a kiss. The taste of wine and savoriness from dinner still lingering on both of your tongues as you deepened the kiss. Swirling your tongue around in a way that had precum dripping from the tip of his cock as he thought about how good it might feel if it was there instead, slurping the opaque liquid up. As much as you wanted to keep kissing him and let your tongues explore each other he decided that it was time to pull away, trailing kisses from the corner of your mouth to your neck where he gently let his teeth graze over the sensitive flesh, warranting a gentle moan from you.

It was like music to his ears and immediately he decided that he wanted to pull more from your plush lips, letting his kisses trail farther down until his lips were over one of your nipples protruding from the silk fabric, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub at a painstakingly slow pace that made you want to shove him away from you completely for denying you pleasure.

“No bra on? What a lewd thing to do, but I wouldn’t expect anything like from someone like you.” He murmured against the fabric.

“Someone like me? What’s that supposed to mean?” You questioned, still a bite to your tone like earlier.

“A slut.” Erwin answered for him and it wasn’t until now that you noticed his presence from behind you, chiseled chest pressed up against your back and his breath fanning across your neck distracting you from the hand he brought up to rest at the nape at it. His other hand going down to scrunch your dress up around your waist. Revealing your lacy underwear to their doting eyes and especially to Zeke who was now dropping down to his knees in front of you. “She’s soaking fucking wet. Her panties are dripping with wetness.” 

“You think we didn’t notice all your advances? All the times you traded your integrity just to get our attention like the bad girl you are, huh?” Erwin’s hand moved from the nape of your neck to the front of it, gently squeezing it with his hand and forcing you to look up at him. A chastising look on his features as he stared down at you, making you feel so little and small compared to his towering structure.

You had no words to respond to him with, too caught up in a daze in your head thinking that this couldn’t be true, that this was a dream you were going to wake up from in a couple of minutes. But it was the warmth of Zeke’s tongue prodding at your clit that brought you back to your senses, eyes widening in shock as you looked up at your professor. This was really happening.

“Hm, looks like the brat doesn’t have anything else to say.”

“I think I like her better like this anyway.” The blonde between your legs mumbles, sending a vibrational tingle up your spine and leaving your legs wobbling. He was so messy with it, tongue devouring you like you were the 2nd course on the menu tonight. You diverted your eyes down to him for a second, his staring right back up at you as he feverously worked his tongue against you. Your juices mixed with his saliva already wetting your thighs up along with his beard.

“Oh god, that f-feels so good.” You let out in a choked moan, knees daring to buckle on you and make you fall to the floor, but Erwin’s death grip around your torso stopped such from happening. Which you were also grateful, but that also meant you weren’t able to buck your hips up into Zeke’s face or swivel them the way you wanted to; taking away any sense of control you thought you had. It wasn’t too long after that you were releasing all over his beard, wetting it up as your insides clenched around nothing, desperately wanting one of their cocks to stuff you up and satisfy that craving. 

Even after your orgasm, he didn’t stop. The pace of his tongue showed no sign of stopping and just to add to the sweet torture you felt two slender fingers entering your hole, a loud moan emitting from your lips in response. “I can’t take it. Too much.” You let out in a ragged breath.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can give us one more. You can take it. You don’t have any choice matter of fact, you’re going to give us as many as we want from you. Maybe if you weren’t so bratty things would be different.” Mouth too occupied on you, all Zeke could do was hum against you in agreeance. 

“Erwin--” 

“Aht, it’s daddy or professor to you from here on out.” Oh

“Daddy,” You quickly corrected yourself with a whine, “I can’t take it anymore. M’too sensitive. I need more. I w-want you inside of me.” Luckily for you, Zeke’s tongue was getting tired from being on you and he was quick to get off of his knees at your request to Erwin. “Look at the begging slut now. You weren’t like that when you first came. Guess you really are just all bark and no bite.” He teased you, fingers going to your nipples and pinching at them. You couldn’t even reply if you wanted to because his lips were on you like earlier forcing you to taste yourself on your tongue. And to your surprise Erwin joined in as well, leaning over from behind you and inserting himself to make a 3-way kiss that had all your tongues entangled with one another’s; everyone getting a taste of you.

“Zeke go sit on the couch and let y/n return the favor.” The older man spoke up after pulling away. Everyone moving away from such close proximity of each other so you could all go to your positions over on the couch. By the time you turned around to head in that direction Zeke was already sitting on the couch with his cock free and sprung up against his stomach, twitching in your direction as he awaited your arrival. Erwin on the other hand was nowhere to be found, completely gone from your view, but you didn’t let that stop you from making your way over to the bearded mand; dropping on your knees as soon as you were in front of him. 

Your hands move to engulf his thick cock with your hands, jerking it a few times and spreading around the pre-cum that cumulated on his tip before you began to lower your head. You were getting ready to bring his tip past your lips when the feeling of two broad hands gripping the crevice between your stomach and hips stopped you abruptly, presumably Erwin behind you getting ready to do something. You went to look behind you to confirm you suspicion only to be stopped by Zeke’s hand roughly grabbing at your chin forcing you to look up at him again. 

“Nobody told you to stop or look behind you. Get back to work.” It was pathetic how much they were able to break you down in such a small amount of time because without a second thought you did exactly what he told you to do, slipping his cock past your lips and gently sucking on it while simultaneously running your tongue over the flushed tip. “And here I was thinking your mouth was only good for arguing.” He groaned out, earning a chuckle from the other man behind you. 

Without the slightest bit of warning, Erwin is sliding his cock into you from behind, the mixture of Zeke’s saliva and your cum acting as a natural lubricant; allowing him to slip in and out of you as he pleased at a pace that made it so you were gagging on cock without hardly moving your head. Your hips also smacking against your professor’s without even moving them. It was like you were their personal sex toy and no longer one of their students, but this wasn’t even the beginning of it. They were nowhere near done with you. 

[chaotic-jjk-fiction]

The Surrogate: Nanami Kento x Reader x Gojo Satoru

Please be warned that this piece is 4.3k words

I am willing to write a part two if you guys like it 

TW: Pregnancy, Artificial insemination, Morning sickness, Surrogacy   

You were tight on money, you couldn’t deny that. Sometimes you had to pick between paying rent and eating, but that was just how it was living in Tokyo. You had just graduated from university last year, and finding work wasn’t easy. One night when you and your friends were hanging out and one of them jokingly brought up the idea of becoming a surrogate to make some money. You all laughed at the idea then, but a few months after that conversation took place you found yourself googling the surrogacy processes and the money that could be made. While surrogacy was not actually illegal in Japan but it was still frowned upon by many, however, this wasn’t going to stop you.   

Now you were filling out your application to become a surrogate mother. You went through all of the agency’s testing and formal legal work and they told you that they would notify you if you were chosen by a family. All you could do now was wait and see. You had almost forgotten about your application when you got an email explaining that you had been selected by a couple and that a meeting needed to be scheduled so that both parties could meet and decide if they wanted to continue. You quickly replied with all of the dates and time that worked for you and internally jumped with joy that things were actually working out, much quicker than you had expected. 

The meeting time was also set quickly and you found yourself growing nervous as the day approached and you had to remind yourself that this was no different from any job interview you had ever done. Finally the day had come and you were headed off to meet the family that you would potentially be carrying a baby for. You dressed in your best clothes and did your hair in a way that you hoped would impress them, you knew that if they were able to afford surrogacy, they were probably of high status. The meeting was at the agency and one of their doctors would be there to explain everything to both parties and help everyone feel comfortable. When you made it to the agency you were escorted into an office type room with a desk and three chairs. Two of them were closer together, and the third was more off to the side and you guessed that one was for you, and the other two were for the couple. You sat down in the chair off to side your hands folded in your lap as you looked around the room. You jumped when you heard the door open and you turned around to see two men enter the room. One man was obviously the doctor and the other one you assumed was the husband in the couple. The doctor went and sat down on the other side of the desk, and you stood up and bowed to the man in a tan suite. He was pretty tall, and you weren't going to lie, he was making you feel a bit intimidated. He bowed back to you. 

“My name is Nanami Kento” he said very formally, “Thank you for meeting with us, and I apologize that my partner is late.” You were a little taken back by how formal he was, but then again it was what you were expecting. 

“My name is y/n'' your voice wavered a bit, “and the pleasure is mine.” You two bowed again, and then he took his seat and you followed. There was an awkward silence in the air and you just tried to focus on your hands which laid in your lap and not the intimidating man sitting in the chair a little ways away from you. Five minutes passed before the door slammed open and you jumped in surprise, whipping your head around to see who had busted in. A man with white hair and sunglasses stood in the doorway. 

“Sit down” Nanami said in a stern voice, “your late Satoru.” The man in the door frame made his way over to the chair next to him and sat down before turning to you, 

“The name’s Gojo Satoru'' he stated and then turned back around to face the doctor. You were a little shocked, but you also turned back to face the doctor. You noted the wedding rings on their hands and you realize that they were the married couple that you would be potentially carrying a baby for. It made sense, obviously they couldn’t have a child together, and it made you hope that this worked out. The doctor soon began his speech on how surrogacy works, explaining  how you would be artificially inseminated with a semen sample that the men provided. You would then be monitored closely throughout your pregnancy and updates would be provided for Nanami and Gojo. They would pay any medical bills that were related to the pregnancy, and how the three of you could work out specific details on which doctor you would see and which hospital you would give birth as you pleased. You just sat there silently nodding every now and again to show that you were listening to what was being said. The thought of actually carrying a baby inside of you for nine months was intimidating, but you really needed the money. After the doctor had finished his part of the meeting he then opened the floor to questions and open discussion. You really didn’t know what to say, and you were glad when Nanami pulled out a notebook and began asking the doctor questions and taking notes. You felt so unprepared compared to them. After he was done interrogating the doctor, he turned to you and you panicked a little about what he was going to ask. 

“Thank you again for meeting us here today” he started off formally “Would you mind if I asked you some questions?” You nodded, 

“Of course not.” He looked down at the page of questions decide which one to ask first, before finally deciding to start with your relationship status. You explained to them that you hadn’t been in a relationship since you were in your first year of university. He went on asking questions about family history and health, and other stuff along that line, you answered every question to best of your ability. You noticed that his husband, Gojo appeared to be antsy and trying not to start bouncing off the walls. You wondered how these two had ended up together. After Nanami had gone through everything he had to written down, he asked you had any questions for them to which you responded, 

“I only have one,” you paused a moment before continuing “What brought you two to deciding that you wanted a child” Nanami looked back at Gojo before looking back to you 

“Well” he started before getting cut off be his husband 

“Because we work with kids all day and seeing them all grow up and mature makes me want to have a kid of my own to help grow and mature” Gojo exclaimed “Plus babies are cute as hell” You couldn’t help but giggle at his last statement, Nanami however just shook his head. 

“Ok” you said “So far I’m feeling good about going through with this. You two seem like a wonderful couple.” Both of them looked at you smiling, and a grin broke out on Gojo’s face. Nanami nodded in a very business like manner, 

“Before we sign any papers” he interrupted “We have a few terms and conditions” you smiled and nodded and he went on

“We would like to be at most, if not all of your ultrasounds” he explained

“I think that’s perfectly reasonable” you chirped 

“We would also like to see your living accommodations, we need to know that our baby is being cared for properly, even before they are born” you paused for a moment before answering. 

“That can be arranged,” you said slowly. And just you were signing the legal papers that set your fate in stone, setting a date to get inseminated, shaking hands with Nanami and Gojo, and then you were on your way back home.    

Your appointment to be inseminated at the clinic was fast approaching and you were a tab bit anxious, but you were also pretty giddy. You were happy that you could give such a sweet couple the baby they wanted. Some time passed, and the next thing you knew you found yourself seated in the procedural chair, your legs in the stirrups watching a doctor pull on gloves before she took the odd syringe with a long thin tube on it and held it up.

“Ok” she said “I need you to try and relax as much as you can and just take a deep breath. '' You did as she said and tried hard not to pay attention to how uncomfortable it was. She slowly injected the liquid, which you knew was sperm through the tube, and you found yourself wondering which man's sperm it was. 

“I’m all done” she informed you as she moved to clean up “We’ll be seeing you in a week to see if an egg fertilized” you nodded as you redressed. Two weeks and few days later you found yourself back in the doctors office with Nanami and Gojo waiting to see if you were pregnant or not. The room was tense as the doctor looked over your blood work in his hands

“Your hCG level is at 21” the doctor stated. All three of you were on the edge of your seats, “Congratulations. You're pregnant” he said looking from the paper up to you. She let out a sigh of relief, you felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. What you weren't expecting was to suddenly be lifted out of your chair and hugged, the action causing you to let out a squeak of surprise. 

“Put her down Satoru” Nanami commanded. You were then set down so that you were standing on the floor looking up at Gojo who had apparently been the one to pick you up. Nanami stood up and took your hand 

“I’m very glad that this worked out” he said a little stiffly “I look forward to what’s to come for all of us.” You nodded happily with a big smile on your face. He felt a smile tugging at his lips as he looked at your bright eyes and happy expression matching Gojo’s. 

“So, who is you obstetrician?” Nanami asked after the initial excitement had died down. You paused, looking down avoid eye contact

“I don’t have one” you said sheepishly. The two men exchanged glances before looking back at you, your head still down. 

“We can set an appointment up for you with one of our choosing if that’s alright with you” Nanami offered. Gojo quick budded in with

“And we’ll pay for it of course.” You looked back up at them, before you nodded

“That sounds great. Thank you so much”  

“It’s the least we could do” Nanami said with a soft smile on his face “You are carrying our child after all.” Gojo made his way to his husband's side and took his arm and pressed a soft kiss to kiss cheek. It made you happy to see the two of them so happy, you were feeling pretty good about your decision to become their surrogate. Two weeks later they called you to set up your six week ultrasound with a doctor they had picked in Tokyo, that when you looked her up seemed pretty high scale and you were glad you didn’t have to pay. All three of you set a date that would work, with the agreement that after the appointment they would come over to your house and check it out and you agreed. They also asked about how you were feeling so far, you explained to them that so far your breast had been pretty tender, you were definitely bloated, however, you hadn’t had any morning sickness yet. They seemed relieved to hear that you were doing good. You hung up after setting the date for your first ultrasound and the waiting process began again. Two more weeks passed until it was finally the day of your appointment. You had developed morning sickness around the middle of week five and you found it was mostly triggered by certain smells. Your breast, you were pretty sure had also gotten a bit bigger.

 You took the bus to the station closest to where the doctor was before walking the rest of the way to the building. You took a seat in the waiting room after filling out the patient intake form. It was a fancy office, that was for sure. Nanami and Gojo soon walked in and took a seat on either side of you so that you were in the middle of them, you felt so small. A nurse called your name and you stood up and followed her, the two of them close behind you. The room she took you to was pretty big, it had two chairs against one wall, an examination table in the middle of the room, and an ultrasound next to the examination table along with a rolling stool for the doctor. You laid down on the table as a technician put a little blue pee pad type thing on your thighs before pulling down your pants a bit and instructed you to pull up your shirt, which you did. 

“The gel will be cold” she warned you before squirting it onto your belly, it was indeed cold. She took the ultrasound wand and pressed it to your belly before starting to move it round, spreading out the gel. All three of you stared at the monitor with baited breath, and there it was, a fuzzy, little bean looking thing that was your baby. You looked over at Nanami and Gojo who were sitting in the chairs to see Gojo holding his husbands had tightly eyes wide looking at the screen. 

“I’m going to see if we can find the heartbeat now” she informed you. You looked back over to the monitor, watching the little bean. You watched as she moved the wand, and tapped some buttons, trying to capture the little beating heart she pointed out to you. You felt like you wanted to cry. You were actually carrying a tiny precursor to a human being, with its own, functioning, heart. There were a few more less enjoyable parts to your appointment, but you guessed you were going to have to get used to people looking at your “lady parts.” You walked out of the office with Gojo and Nanami at your side, Gojo was holding a file of your ultrasound, along with some pamphlets from the doctor about what to expect in the first trimester.

“Are you ready for us to go to your house?” Nanami turned to you and asked. You froze, you had completely forgotten that you’d agreed to that, you gulped, then nodded 

“I’m ready” you informed them. They led you to a car and Nanami helped you into it, although that really wasn’t necessary in your mind. You were surprised to find that the car had a driver, who was introduced to you as Ijichi Kiyotaka. He asked for your address and you gave it to him, although you felt embarrassed saying it out loud, and the silence in the car wasn’t helping. On the ride to your apartment you were seated in the middle seat, between Gojo and Nanami. About halfway to your house, Gojo opened up the folder and pulled out the sonogram pictures that had been taken, before going on a little rant about how cute they were going to be while looking at the image.   

Before you knew it, the car had pulled up in front of your hole in the wall apartment building and all three of you were getting out and making your way up stairs to your floor. The first thing the two men noticed was that the building didn’t have an elevator, that didn’t seem good as you would most likely have trouble with stairs later in your pregnancy, especially since you lived on the fourth floor. One they made it up to your unit you unlocked the door, but before opening you turned around to face them

“I apologize for any mess in advance” you said and then pushed the door open. All three of you took off your shoes before entering the actual living space. The thing that stood out most to them was how little furniture there was. You had a sofa and a coffee table in the small room, along with a bookshelf and a little rug but nothing else in your living room. The kitchen was practically non-existent. You had a fridge, a microwave, a rice maker, and a small gas stove next to an equally small sink. Nanami looked around skeptically and Gojo headed straight for the fridge, opening to find nothing but a few kinds of convenience store pickles. 

“What do you eat?” he exclaimed, obviously shocked at the lack of food, he then proceeded to go through the few cabinets finding a bag or rice and some instant miso soup mix. He looked at you in shock and you could feel your cheeks turning red with guilt. 

“Is this all you have?” Nanami asked, looking at you. You looked from one to the other, before letting your eyes rest on the floor. 

“Money has been tight recently,” you explained. Both of them looked from you to the other one, they seemed to reach a silent, mutual agreement before Nanami spoke. 

“You do know that this is not an ok environment to be pregnant in, right?” He looked genuinely concerned and it just made you feel so much worse. 

“I know it’s not ideal” you said, “but I can’t afford anything else.” There was a gap of silence until Gojo spoke up, 

“You could stay in our guest room” he exclaimed “we never use it, and it would allow us to keep an even closer eye on you” He was basically jumping up and down about his new idea. 

“I couldn’t” you stammered “I don’t want to impose on your life” Nanami thought for a moment before expressing his opinion. 

“Satoru is right'' he paused, “I would be better for you to stay with us, and it would be better for our peace of mind as well.” You were at a loss for words, could you really take their offer? Was that even an ethical thing to do? 

“Please” Gojo whined putting his face in front of yours. You took a moment before sighing 

“Ok” you said “it still doesn't feel quite right to me” you added. You looked from Gojo to Nanami, waiting to see their reaction. Nanami nodded, 

“I understand. But please do not feel as though you are intruding, we are welcoming you” he reassured. Gojo put his hands on your shoulder and pushed you forward from behind. 

“Go hurry and pack” he beamed, you staggered forward a bit before whipping around to face him. 

“Right now?” you gawked. Gojo just nodded and smiled before ushering you forward again. You looked to Nanami to see what he had to say. 

“I mean there’s no reason to delay your move” he remarked. And so it was decided, you were going to move in with them tonight. You went to your room and pulled out a duffle bag and began to pack the clothes you thought you would want most. Before you went back out to them, you also packed your favorite pillow and blanket, along with your toiletries. You made your way out back to the living room where they were still just standing in the middle of the room. Nanami took the bag, and Gojo took your arm, and you all walked back down to the car. Nanami placed your bag in the trunk and got into the car. The ride to their house was fairly long, and you found yourself drifting off, your head starting to fall on to Gojo’s shoulder. He just watched as you fell asleep, making no move to push your head off. 

“We’re here” Gojo announced, waking you up from your nap. You got out of the car and came face to face with an upscale apartment building the likes of which you’d never seen. You were in shock as they led you to the elevator and up to their floor, which you could only access with a key.

“We’ll make sure to get you a key tomorrow,” Nanami commented, before pressing the button for the fifth floor. You just nodded in awe. Once the elevator reached the fifth floor the two of them stepped out and into a little hallway type room with  the door to their actual apartment a few feet away. Nanami took out another key and unlocked the door, pushing it open to reveal a beautiful entrance room. You walked inside and took off your shoes before allowing yourself to step inside and marvel at the magnificent furniture and design of the living room. 

“Let me show you to your room” Gojo proclaimed as he took your arm and led you through the living room, which you could now see was connected to their kitchen, down a hallway and past a few doors before he stopped in front of one. He flung open the door to reveal a room as big as your old living room with a twin bed, a bookshelf, a dresser with a mirror, and a little sofa in one corner. The thing you found most amazing, was the huge window that allowed you to look out onto Tokyo. Nanami placed your duffle bag down on the sofa before turning to see you in a state of shock. 

“I hope you like the room” he said “your bathroom is right across the hallway, feel free to put your toiletries in there. Satoru and I’s bedroom is upstairs” You nodded at his words, internally screaming at the fact that the apartment had an upstairs. 

“We’ll leave you to get settled” he added “Please come out when you're ready and have some food with us.”

“Ok” you agreed and watched as the two men left the room, closing the door behind them. You flopped down against the bed and relished in how soft the mattress and sheets were. After just allowing yourself to process the events of today, you got up and started to put your clothes into the drawers before you laid your blanket and pillow on the bed. You took your toiletries out of the duffle bag and set them back down on the sofa, you then placed the now empty bag on the bottom of the bookshelf. You picked up the items off of the sofa and left your room and opened the door to a wonderful bathroom with a separate shower and bath so that one could wash off before getting into the tub. The toilet was also fancy. You put your bathing products on the shelves cut into the shower wall and set your toothbrush along other oral hygiene products and your hair brush into their respective places on the sink counter. After taking one last look around the room you made your way to the kitchen where Gojo was sitting on a high bar stool at the counter and Nanami was standing behind the counter cooking something. You took a seat one bar stool away from Gojo and looked at what Nanami was making. It looked like he was putting together rice with a fried egg, topped with, what you were guessing was salmon leftover from their dinner last night, and nori. It looked amazing and you were excited to be able to eat it, because, in all honesty, you were incredibly hungry. Nanami set a bowl in front of you along with a pair of chopsticks. 

“Itadakimasu” you and Gojo say in unison. You take your chopsticks, and pick up a clump of rice with salmon on it. Before you can place the bite in your mouth, you feel bile rising in your throat. You carefully set down your chopsticks and cover your mouth before hopping off the stool and speed walking to the bathroom where you promptly threw up the contents of your stomach. You looked up to see Nanami and Gojo standing in the doorway, a look of concern on their faces.

“I’m sorry” you apologized, your voice rough from the acid. You gagged again feeling more bile coming up your throat and you turned back to the toilet bowl and threw up once more. You were breathing heavy, your eyes were watering, and your face felt hot. It wasn’t until you calmed down a bit before you realized that Gojo was kneeling behind you with hand on the small of your back. He quickly supported you as you stood noticing how shaky you were. 

“I’m sorry” you apologized again, flushing the toilet. 

“Hey, don’t worry about it” Gojo chirped, “You're pregnant.” He helped you two the sink where you washed your mouth with mouthwash. You looked over to Nanami who was still standing in the doorway,

“Thank you for cooking dinner, I’m sure that it’s delicious, but right now I think I really just need sleep” you explained. He nodded in understanding

“Of course,” he said “I understand. If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask, Satoru and I will be staying up a bit later.” You bowed your head and thanked them again before going into your room, changing into your pajamas and laying down. You found it fairly easy to fall asleep thanks to how tired you were, and how comfortable the bed was.

[spencerscoven]

— idle hands

about ; Spencer looks back on to the months before at the events that pulled him under, all of them starting and ending with you.

gif by sarahmichellesgellar

WARNINGS: unedited— fem!reader unsub, unsub!spencer, handjobs, smut, mentions of drugs&addiction, mentions of depression, mentions of torture, mentions of death

“Is it really so hard to believe I wanted to do it?”

A small smile played on Spencer’s features, his eyes on Hotch’s, unmoving. His eyes were bright honey, within them holding something that had been foreign to him for much too long. Happiness. Euphoria.

He sat in the same seat as you once did, letting himself soak up the aura of the interrogation room. The metal jingle of his handcuffs paired with the rough floors that were once waxed allowed him to be brought back to half a year ago, to a Wednesday in September, where the sun rose south on the horizon in Quantico, where nothing would be the same again. 

Spencer’s brought back to the day he first met you, the memory so vivid he could stick his tongue out and imagine he tasted your perfume in the air. It only takes a little longer before he’s also taken back to the moments before, when he leaned against the hallway walls of the BAU with an unsettled stomach and weak knees.

“I just can’t.” Spencer had said. Begged, even.

“You can’t? Or you won’t?” Spencer knew it wasn’t a question, no matter how Hotch had phrased it. He shook his head obediently, heart heavy and guts threatening to spill onto the brown leather of his shoes. It was even worse with every step, his fingers feeble on the cool handle of the door. And he hated himself for knowing where he’d go after, the image of a small seringe behind his lids each time he blinked.

The temperature inside was only cooler, making the claminess of his hands more evident, his jaw clenched. He inspected over you for as long as he could before it turned into staring, observing just who you were in the flesh. The woman behind the profile.

Soft hair.

Established at work.

Calm.

Smart.

Perfectly hidden in everyone’s good graces, leaving you out of suspicion.

He examined you so long that he was able to see you do the same to him, gazing up and down, the corner of your lips turned up. Twenty four men within the last eight months— erratic at first, until the murders gained a special flair, your signature. The photos sat infront of you already, their tongues cut skillfully out of their mouths as you paid the snapshots no attention.

“This one,” You pointed to the photo to the farthest left, your nose scrunched up in slight disgust, “To me he looks very proud, doesn’t he? I’m sure somebody wanted to shut him up.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed, watching the game you were getting at, moving your chess piece three spaces over and looking him in the eye, daring him to join.

“Is that what you wanted? To shut him up?”

“Couldn’t say. I only read about it in the papers,” You retracted his accusation as if you’d been looking forword to the chase, crossing your legs and watching as his eyes followed them. “I read that he was a man with wandering hands, and much too many secrets. Maybe he deserved it.”

He watched you lean forward, embracing the space of the table as you placed your elbows upon it, holding your chin in the palm of your hand. You were the exact opposite of what uncomfortable was. You were eager. Excited.

“Do you agree that he deserved it?”

“I couldn’t possibly agree with you.” Spencer appealed.

Your painted nails motioned him to come closer, his jaw going slack at what was a demand, not a request. His body acted first, the scent of you nearly lifting him off the floors as it hit him. It made him sick as if he was on a rocking boat— shipwrecked. And to feel something felt good.

“I mean, there’s really no proof of who the killer is anyway.” You sighed, collecting your things without much regard for the bloody mess of the images below you.

Spencer glanced at the two way glass to the left as if he could see the figures behind it watching him crumble, letting you go because you were right in all the ways that were wrong. He’d hear about another thing he had done wrong as soon as he exited the doors.

You dismantled the space between the two of you, stopping close to look into the bronze gold of his irises, holding his energy alongside yours. Spencer tried to justify the way he didn’t step back— the soft soul of your breath against his ear just barely.

“I just wanted to see you up close...” You lead off without finishing, implying you wanted his name.

“Doctor.” He tutted, his arms held defensively by his side as if it would get him out of this newly dug hole that already contained multiple sprouting seeds inside of it.

“Doctor, you seem unsettled...” You let out a little hum at the title, nodding as you swiped your hand on the shoulder of his jacket. It was your only excuse to touch him. “Some people do bad things for all the right reasons, and sometimes, they do far too well at it.”

You struggled at your last statement, as if you were passing it onto him to consider. He couldn’t help himself from looking over his shoulder, watching the sway of your hips fade into the distance, leaving the door open only to reveal the figure of the black haired man, as if he was ready to stop what everyone else could see happening.

Hotch watched from the open door as Spencer stepped closer to the table, eyes burning through the print that you once referenced to before he took it between his thumbs, tearing it apart.

In the beginning of October, he let himself come to true terms. Sure, his team acted like they cared. They never ratted him out in fear he would lose his job— in fact, they never even uttered the words of it out loud, instead preferring looks of empathy. And as time went on, their empathy switched to looks of pity that soon became dehumanizing as they pressed and prodded at him like a cell below a microscope.

So he told them what they had already known when he was finally able to come to terms with it himself, droplets falling to the floor from his eyes as he quietly announced “I’m an addict”. And he listened as they said completely nothing, looking up to only see them watch anything in the room but him, averting their eyes to something that was somehow more important than what he had to confess.

And it dawned on him that very moment that they didn’t care when they only spoke to accept his apology for the sudden slip of the tongue. To them, he ceased to exist beyond the ways his brain benefited them.

Spencer realized they didn’t care to talk about the trackmarks that riddled his arm, or the noise of the glass vials that they heard from his pockets. He was becoming increasingly uncaring and disorganized, becoming less and less sterile each time he pumped his viens and chased his impending doom in the form of a sweet high. They just wanted to go to sleep at night without guilt sitting on their chests.

They wanted him to suffer in the shadows, swaying against the side of the bathroom stall as he rolled up his sleeves. They wanted to get off scot free and go on with their lives if they were to ever find him slumped against the cold floors, barely conscious.

It made Spencer’s skin crawl.

During an evening in mid October his fingers shook on the bottom half of his old cellphone, eagerly inching towards the final number— the one that had been burned into the front of his head right from the manila folder.

187...The one he promised he wouldn’t call.

187-654...The one that smelt like vanilla graced with casablanca lillies, and something else he just could not sniff out.

187-654-337... Was it so bad that he thought of you in a way he wasn’t supposed to?

“Hello?”

Spencer’s breath hitched against the receiver, keeping his voice in his chest while he nuzzled against his phone, taking you in as if you were right beside him.

“It’s you, isn’t it, Spencer?”

He worried his lips at your tone, patience and humility just waiting for him to speak up. Spencer counted the seconds over as several minutes passed, your tolerance never wearing down.

“Why do you know that?” Spencer asked, running his slim fingers through his head of hair at the sound of his first name, one he had never given you. Was he that fucking obvious to you?

“You were easy to find, I googled you. You’re quite remarkable, aren’t you? Besides, I’ve been expecting this call,” You admitted.

He could hear you shuffling around the room, discarding something metal and turning on the pipe, washing your hands clean. He could see your image now, phone held between your cheek and shoulder, hair falling infront of your eyes as you rinsed. He wondered what you were ridding your hands of, or if it even mattered now that he had crossed this line.

“You’ve been expecting me?”

“It’s a pity you didn’t call sooner, Spencer... I’ve been thinking about the things we could discuss. Is that what you want? To talk?”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat to stop himself from reciting his uttermost single thought: You’re no good for me.

“Yeah, I’d like to talk.”

He’d forgotten what it felt like when someone listened.

On the ripe night of December 31, he sat upon your couch, his elbows on his knees as he covered his face in shame. Hours before he stumbled onto your porch, rambling about you and him, him and you. You’d only chuckled at it, calling him admirable and sickingly sweet. His pulse began to beat harder as you told him that he reminded you of your mother, a woman who stood pure and good. He didn’t have the heart to just let you blindly say so, spoiling the image of her. Not when he wouldn’t do that to his own mother, either.

After the new person he’d become the past year, he wasn’t so sure he was deserving of such a thing. He played with the band of his watch, nothing that in just two more hours it’d be the new year. He couldn’t stop himself from spilling his truth, the one he had implied to you for months.

“What did you used to take?”

“Dilaudad, when it was available. But Morphine mostly,” Spencer’s voice was no louder than a whisper, “It was easier to get.”

He sat without saying much else, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand, expecting you to dismiss him like so many others had before.

“How long has it been?”

“A few months.” Spencer pierced his lips, ignoring the look you gave him that implied you knew, like he did, that he wasn’t ready to admit exactly just how long he had been at it.

“Did they care?” You asked, your body leaning closer into him, waiting for a reply that never came from his mouth. You paid attention to the slight tremble of his body and the glossiness of his eyes.

He never told you the specifics about himself, and you wondered if it was because he kept you at arm’s length or because he truly thought there wasn’t anything to tell. But sometimes he’d talk about them; a woman called Emily, and one by the name of Garcia. You already knew who Hotch was from the moments he tried to shake a confession out of you before. You had assumed they were the only ones he had because he never said much else. His silence only pinged as an answer.

“Spencer, you deserve better, you do.” Your hands glided along his jaw, tilting his head to look at you. With the pads of your thumb you wiped the few tears that cascaded down his cheeks, his eyes shut tight in protest. “I care. Did you ever know that?”

Spencer stood with limp arms, his head nodding as he brought his cheek closer to your hand and laid a gentle kiss on your finger, dropping his whole world into yours.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why would you need to apologize, Spencer?”

You didn’t look at him through a lense that demonized him, reducing him to just another case who had let his addiction eat his life up from the inside out. He knew that to you he was someone like he had never been before. He was just himself, not an obstacle. And you were unreal, ready and willing to protect him.

“Can I touch you?” Spencer croaked, looking down at you with wide eyes. You didn’t answer verbally, instead opting to bring his face closer to yours, steering his lips into a kiss. It became clear as to who was in control as he submitted, hands delicately wavering above your hips without the permission to do much else.

You threw your thighs over his, straddling his hips and beginning to grind slowly, only to see that he was already showcasing a hard bludge in his pinstripe trousers. At the speed of it you pondered on the thought that he hadn’t been touched in a long time— or ever.

“Yes, you can touch me.” You assured him, a ginger grin appearing in response to his nervous eyes and hands that grasped your tits above your shirt, so eager to touch. “I meant what I said. If they can’t help give you what you need, what can they do for you?”

You palmed Spencer through his pants, admiring the little sounds that poured out of his mouth, each a bit louder than the one before. The button of his pants came off easy enough, allowing his cock to spring out, the rosy tip already leaking and sensitive. His hips jerked up to your touch, breath caught up against your neck. Your hand worked between the two of you, traveling up and down his dick repeatedly. At the perfect pace, your thumb ran across the tip, coaxing swears from his mouth as you brought your lips back to his.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Spencer. You don’t always have to stand so strong...”

Spencer’s hips moved underneath you to meet your hands, his orgasm coating your hands as he continued to whine well after he had cum, a sound that ensured the happy death of you. Through hooded eyes, he taped you licking his finishes off the back of your hand and your fingers, a keen look of contentment placed upon your face.

“You’re not alone anymore, are you?”

Spencer nodded ‘no’, embarking on how you resembled Eris, spirit dripping of discord and nasty twists, yet headstrong enough to hold the both of you up. It was an infatuation; a dangerous one.

He rubbed circles into your thigh, the after effects of his orgasm making his head hazy, head stuck in the clouds. His long fingers inched closer to the waistband of your jeans, face confused when you gently directed them away.

“I just want to please you,” he mewled, pout evident.

“You already have.”

Spencer nodded, following your lead to drop it, a long sigh drawn out his peachy lips. His head tilted, almost as a puppy’s would, an epiphany settling in. His eyes became earnest, unable to tiptoe around the dark reality surrounding the two of you. To him it didn’t matter anyway, not anymore.

“You killed those men, didn’t you?”

“Who’s to say?” You raised your eyebrows, feigning innocence like a code, meant for Spencer to see right through.

“Right,” His shoulders dropped, body no longer tense. “My team... they’re wondering if you’re worth all the trouble.”

“Am I?”

Spencer’s lips rose north, resembling something that he hadn’t done for months. You watched, a bit hypnotized, lips swollen and skin sensitive to the touch.

“You are.”

When it became March, it was too late.

“The victim is male, mid 50s, his identity yet to be verified,”

Hotch watched the scene infront of him eerily silent.

“Body has several struggle adhesions, the tongue was severed from the mouth, as well as both hands. They’ve yet to be found— I’d say the body is about five days old.”

He’d last seen Spencer six days ago after he entered the passenger side of the familiar black car, windows just a bit tinted as he saw his torso reach across the center console, kissing who had been in the driver’s seat. He hadn’t asked where he planned to go.

Idle hands ; the devil’s workshop. Nothing good came from hurt.

masterlist

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Two: Where the Heart Is

a/n: Thank you so much for all of the love you have shown to part one! I’m so glad to see that you’re enjoying YBMH so far, the story is just getting started. I hope you’ll stick around for the full thing, so without further ado, here’s chapter two! As always, my inbox is open so feel free to come chat with me when you have finished this part :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drug use

Word Count: 5.1k

read part one here

The phone screen flickers to life at the touch of Harry’s finger, flashing the exact same time that it had the last time he checked, though it feels like hours have passed since then. He sighs at the disappointing revelation and turns his phone over so that the screen meets the aged wood of the piano where it rests. In all honesty, Harry has no idea why he agreed to the interview in the first place. He had skillfully dodged the hundreds of requests for an exclusive tell-all following the untimely split of One Direction and successfully avoided the prying eyes of the general public for several months. So why had he indulged the first request from a girl he hardly knew without so much as a blink? The answer seemed a frustrating mystery to him, but to anyone else, the fluttering in his stomach when he caught a glimpse of her yellow Ford Bronco pulling up to the studio and the way he instinctively raked a hand through his hair gave the answer away.

“I know I’m late, I’m sorry!” Alani apologizes, emerging from the car with a notebook nestled under her arm and a smoothie in each hand. She closes the door with her hip before making a beeline to the studio entrance where Harry stands, his right shoulder leaning against the doorframe with the same stoic expression Alani recognizes as his signature look.

“I had to get my sister to cover for me at the café and then I got lost because Google sent me to a Napua restaurant instead of the recording studio,” she rambles in an attempted continuation of her apology. “But anyway, this is for you. A peace offering and a thank you for doing this.”

Harry gingerly takes the green smoothie from her outstretched hand and offers a curt nod in response before ushering her inside.Alani pushes her sunglasses up and settles them into her windswept waves, trailing behind Harry and taking in the space. In one corner across the room, she notices a couple of brightly colored tapestries thumbtacked to the wall with a microphone stand perched in the center, all encased behind a screen of plexiglass. The adjacent wall is lined with guitars all standing at attention and glimmering, despite the dim lighting. Harry stops at the doorway of another room with a couch and a coffee table, the floor littered with wires and pieces of crumpled paper. He motions Alani to step inside and then clears his throat, which catches the attention of two other long-haired men chatting with amused expressions on their faces.

“Sorry lads,” Harry crosses his arms with eyes glued to the floor to avoid their questioning stares. “‘Fraid I have to intrude. Can we have this room?” 

One of the men grins behind a full beard,  popping a peanut M&M into his mouth before standing. “Sure thing, boss man. Let’s bounce, Rowland.”

The other man, also bearded but smaller in stature with a thin, pointed nose nods silently. He continues twirling two drumsticks between his fingers and points one of them at Harry in passing. Alani offers polite smiles at the both of them, and a quiet “thank you” falls from her lips as they exit without another word. Harry closes the door behind them and gestures to the couch, which she takes as her cue to sit.

“I like the uniform,” Alani smiles, gesturing to her hair as a comment on the fact that the three men all share similar lengths and styles.

“Thanks,” is all Harry says, taking a seat across from hers and clearly dismissing her attempt at humor.

To pacify the urge to fill the uncomfortable silence, Alani sips her strawberry smoothie and steals a glance through her eyelashes at Harry who is doing the same. She clears her throat after a minute and sets the drink on the table in front of her; a notebook takes its place on her lap.

“Thank you again for doing this, I really appreciate it,” Alani offers while digging through her bag for her phone. “I’m gonna record this on voice notes, just for the sake of quoting you accurately.”

“Sure,” Harry replies, occupying his gaze with the condensation trickling from the cup onto his fading black jeans. 

Dry retorts from everyone else, especially customers, have little effect on the way Alani conducts herself.  But every short comment from Harry, or lack thereof, makes her feel like a bug under a microscope. She settles her phone onto the coffee table and takes a deep breath to calm the trembling that spreads from her chest into her fingers and toes.

“So first, I wanted to ask about your time in Hawai’i. Are you enjoying it so far?” Alani poses the question lightly, hoping to open him up just enough to extract the story that she’s really looking for.

“It’s nice,” Harry nods, finally meeting her expectant stare. When she doesn’t respond for a beat, he clears his throat and adds on to the statement. “Weather’s good,”

Alani musters a half-hearted smile and glances down at the questions on her page. This is going to take for-fucking-ever, she sighs.

“Is that what drew you here—vacation? Getting away?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,”

The row of guitars behind the singer catches her attention suddenly and guides the next question.

“And to write or.. record?”

Harry shifts in his seat, calculating his response carefully. “Both,”

“Solo stuff?”

Alani watches as he takes a slow sip of his smoothie and crosses his legs, an action which tells her that she’s struck a dead end. Or, at the very least, a door that she hasn’t gained his trust to open yet.

“You were with One Direction for half a decade,” She recovers. “Constantly releasing new music and touring. But now you’re here, doing neither, and haven’t done so for almost a year. What is that transition like?” Alani isn’t sure if Harry will answer when she poses the question, but to her surprise he meets her gaze and nods, as if to say that he accepts the inquiry.

“It’s different than anything I’ve ever done, for sure,” he starts slowly. It’d be a lie to say that he hasn’t given the breakup and, subsequently, his future outside of the band much thought. He thinks about it every day, especially his bandmates and their supportive fans. That much he has been able to unpack privately, but the rest of it—the sudden need to escape and write new music— is still something he can’t quite put into words, so he leans into the nostalgia and hopes it’ll suffice.

“Like you said, it’s been non-stop for the past five years, so I guess it is a bit jarring to come to a sudden halt after so much momentum. Obviously, it’s nice to have the time off, but I love putting out music and touring it. I wouldn’t trade that for anything,”

Alani is grateful to have more than a couple of words of material, despite the fact that it doesn’t really answer the question or tell her anything new about the man sitting crossed legged and closed off in front of her. Looking through her notes, Alani selects another question and embarks on a new angle.

“You were really young when all of that began,” she starts, thinking about how she could never have left her family and home at just 16. Hell, she was 22 and still figuring it out. Hopefully, if all things went well with this interview and Rolling Stone, she would finally find the opportunity to do it. “Do you ever think about where you would be if you hadn’t auditioned for X-Factor?”

Harry knows that she’s playing it safe, trying to feel him out and test the buttons she can push. He also knows that he’s being difficult, much more so than usual due to his nerves. So with an unfamiliar pang in his chest, he decides to relent the tiniest bit.

“Well, I’m starting to think maybe I could’ve been a professional surfer,” he offers matter-of-factly which makes Alani flash an amused grin. Harry’s sudden humor makes the room a bit less suffocating for the both of them and she’s grateful for it.

“Surfing, huh? This I have to see.” she  quips back, suddenly trying to picture him ditching the black skinny jeans for a wetsuit.

He nods with a faint smirk. “Maybe you will.” 

Alani meets his gaze with a shy smile of her own and her eyes fall to his lips for a brief second. The almost imperceptible action sends another foreign jolt through Harry’s chest. She opens her mouth to resume questioning when a loud bang startles them both and causes Harry to spin in his seat, looking through the glass window of the sound booth.

“Sorry!” A man with short, blonde hair and a fading tie dye shirt laughs while lifting the tipped over drum cymbals. “Don’t mind us!”

The two men from earlier straggle in behind and poorly conceal their own fits of laughter. Harry flashes his middle finger briefly, mouthing something that Alani can’t see but knows is undoubtedly rude. She suppresses a giggle and sneaks a glance at her phone, which indicates only a few minutes worth of dialogue. When she lifts her head, the door opens and the blonde man peeks his head in.

“Hello,” he greets with an extended hand before entering and taking a seat next to Alani on the couch. “Tom Hull, or Kid Harpoon...or just Tom, whatever you like best,” 

 She accepts his hand eagerly, not missing the way Harry pinches the bridge of his nose in her peripheral vision. “Mahealani Hale, or just Alani. Nice to meet you,”

“Wow, beautiful name,” Tom compliments. “Sorry to interrupt, I didn’t realize you had company, H,”

“She was just—”

“I’m writing about-” The two speak at the same time, making brief eye contact before Harry turns his attention back to Tom.

“Did you need something?” He asks. Tom’s eyes dart between Harry and Alani before he clears his throat and reclines in his seat.

“Just dropping by to see if you wanted to go for lunch...” he trails off, which Alani takes as a cue to start gathering her belongings.

“Kind of busy here,” Harry offers with a glance back at the girl seated awkwardly across from him. “Another time,”

At this, Tom turns to Alani and ignores his friend’s protests. “Alani, do you eat lunch?”

Before responding, she casts an apprehensive glimpse at Harry who has suddenly become very intrigued by the drink in his lap, purposefully avoiding her eyes.

“Uh.. well yeah, but I don’t-”

“Great! Have lunch with us,”

“Mate—” Harry speaks up.

Tom grins, shrugging. “What? You plan on starving the poor girl?”

“I really can’t, but thank you for the offer,” Alani explains with a sheepish smile, standing and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “It was really nice to meet you Tom. And thank you again, Harry, I’ll see you around.”

The musician watches her shuffle out of the sound booth quietly and turns his attention back at Tom, who sits with an incredulous look on his face.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” He asks, standing. “Go after her, dickhead!”

“It’s not like that she’s-”

“I really don’t give a fuck about your excuses, go!”

Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes, looking out the window as Alani slips through the front door.

She fishes her keys out of her bag and sighs when a familiar voice says her name.

“Alani!” Harry calls from the doorway, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. He makes his way down the steps and over to the driver’s side where she  ghosts the key over the ignition. 

“Come have lunch...please?” 

“It’s okay,” she purses her lips together politely. “I don’t wanna get in the way,”

Harry catches his lower lip between his teeth and runs a hand through his hair, choosing his next words thoughtfully. 

“No, you’re not—you won’t,” he starts. “I would really like it if you joined us for lunch, especially since our time got interrupted. Please, let me make it up to you.”

Alani can’t help the way her stomach flips at the words “our time” that fall from his lips and she finds herself nodding in agreement before her mind has had a chance to intervene. 

She makes her way to the passenger seat of the Range Rover parked behind the studio, which she learns is where all of Harry’s entourage keeps their vehicles. A variety of brightly colored vintage cars are neatly parked, and it amuses her that Harry skips all of them, instead going straight for the black SUV with darkly tinted windows. At least he’s consistent,  she smirks. As Alani climbs into the car, she is met by the warmth of Harry’s scent—something woodsy and vanilla— and the fact that she recognizes it makes her heart pound.

“You can connect your phone,” Harry nods to the stereo as he buckles his seatbelt. “To the Bluetooth, I mean, if you’d like.”

 “Really?” she asks, brow raised in mild disbelief.

“Only if you play something good,” he teases with a stony expression, adjusting the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. Alani takes that as a challenge, scrolling through various playlists as Harry peels away onto the main road. Over the speakers, the beginning of “Don’t Worry Baby” by The Beach Boys surrounds the two of them. 

“Is this to your liking, my liege?” Alani poses in an exaggerated British accent that makes Harry cringe, though the small grin on his face gives away his endearment.

“Yes, but please don’t do that accent ever again,” 

“So you admit it, you’re the one with the accent,” she wiggles her brows, eyes peeling away  from the view out her window to Harry in the driver’s seat.

“If it’ll get you to never do that one again, sure,” “Dunno, love,” she continues, watching the coast shimmer under the afternoon sun. “Think  it kinda suits me,”

Harry shakes his head and checks the rearview mirror to make sure that he hasn’t lost Tom, Mitch, and Jeff in the car trailing behind.

“What’s it like?” Alani questions, studying the perfect slope of his pointed nose and strawberry pout.

“What’s what like?”

“England,”

Harry thinks for a second, recalling his London flat, lunches with his mum and sister, the streets of Trafalgar Square, and Abbey Road. 

“Rainy,” is all he says.

Alani scoffs, which draws  his attention over to where she lounges in his passenger seat, sitting comfortably as if it was exactly where she belonged. “That’s all?”

“What?” He questions, though he knows exactly what she means and is perfectly aware of his own stubbornness.

“Just seems like... I don’t know, such a generic description for a place you consider home,”

Harry mulls her response over, the word “home” especially catching his interest. It’s a strange concept in his mind because while, yes, England is where he has spent the majority of his life and where the people he loves most reside, he has never truly felt connected to just one place. And after spending his formative years traveling the world, who could blame him?

“It’s... safe,” he tries again, attempting to verbalize what he’s feeling. “When I’m there, I mean, I feel safe. Like I don’t have to be anyone or do anything specific, I can just... be. No expectations,”

Alani lets Harry’s words sit between them for a moment, sensing that there is still more he wants to say. When she doesn’t respond after a minute,  he continues in an effort to clarify and fill the lull in the conversation.

“I used to think that London was just a starting point and that if I could make it to LA, it would mean that I had really made it, and I would feel more at home there,” he continues, slow and calculated. “But I dunno... when I’m there it still feels like an extended holiday,  like I’m just buying time until I leave for the next place. London doesn’t feel like that, feels much more constant... so yeah, I guess it is home,” 

As if she had read his mind earlier, Alani adds on. “Not to mention that’s where your family is, I’m assuming,” 

Harry nods, once again thinking of his mum and sister. The image of their beaming faces  brings the shadow of a dimple to his cheek.  “Yeah,”

“What’s your family like?” She continues, truly interested and forgetting for a moment about the article she still has to write.

“Kind of small, I guess. S’really just my sister and my mum, but they’re,” Harry pauses, searching for the right words, “They’re the best. My mum’s probably the kindest woman I’ve ever met. Feel pretty lucky with that one, considering what a pest I was as a child,” he chuckles lightly and it’s a sound that Alani hadn’t heard up to this point, but one she knows she’ll replay in her mind over and over again.

“Gem’s pretty patient too—and brilliant, always the studious one,” he adds finally, a dreamy look on his face that Alani much prefers to the stoic one he always dons. .

“Ah yes, there’s always one,” she nods, catching the quirked brow he offers in response.

“Oh yeah? Are you the one in your family?” 

“I guess so. School just seemed to come easily to me,”

“And what made you want to study journalism?” He questions, stopping to let a woman and her toddler cross.

Alani thinks about it for a moment while twirling a strand of fabric from the hem of her ripped shorts around her finger. 

“I’ve always loved to write, ever since I was really little— like short stories and stuff. And I don’t know, I guess I like the idea of traveling and seeking out a story, too.”

Harry nods understandingly, pulling up to a curb across the street from a restaurant that Alani has frequented. It’s relatively empty at Pineapples for a summer afternoon, though most tourists don’t stray too far from the beaches, so Hilo maintains a healthy local population at all times. The pair climb out of the car and Alani makes her way to the rear where the rest of the group has parked. One of the men from earlier greets her with an outstretched hand while Harry chats with the other two that emerge.

“Hi I’m Jeff, it’s nice to meet you.” He smiles warmly,  pushing his sunglasses into his hair. 

“Alani. It’s nice to meet you, Jeff,”

“Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be rude by not saying hi it’s just-”

Alani dismisses his concern with a wave of her hand. “Oh don’t worry about it! I was kind of nervous then, too. I don’t know if he told you, but I’m interviewing Harry,”

“Oh, right! Yeah, he did mention that I think,” Jeff recalls, “Which magazine are you with?”

“None.” Yet, Alani thinks, her mind wandering to the Rolling Stone rejection letter. “It’s for a class, I’m a journalism major. Harry was just being nice and agreed to let me write about his music,”

Jeff nods. “Got it. You know, he’s not normally this serious. Just got a lot on his mind but he’ll loosen up,” he explains quietly just as Alani and Harry’s eyes meet. She quickly averts her gaze back to the kind, bearded man standing before her.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” she smiles appreciatively.

“Where’s Jeffrey?” Harry speaks up, catching her attention. She looks back to Jeff, confused, before he shakes his head.

“Other Jeff, his manager.” He explains.

“Probably already inside, he said he’d meet us here.” Mitch pipes up.

With that, the rest of the crew head into the restaurant while Alani stays a few steps behind to follow their lead.

“Y’okay?” Harry asks, shuffling along beside her.

Alani startles slightly at his unexpected presence, but relaxes as their strides fall into sync.

“Yeah, thanks. And thank you for the invite, too.” She offers, the corners of her mouth upturned softly.  Harry responds with a tight-lipped smile of his own and clears his throat before holding the door open for her.

In the far corner of the restaurant near the open balcony, Harry’s manager Jeff waves the group over to the table he saved. Everyone exchanges greetings and settles into their seats, the two at the end facing each other remain open for Alani and Harry.

“Jeff, this is..Mahealani, did I get that right?” Tom gestures to Alani for approval.

She nods and waves. “Yes, but you can just call me Alani,”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeff calls from the other end of the table, glancing over to Harry in search of  an explanation for her presence.

“I’m writing a piece about Harry and his music,” Alani offers. “But I’d love to talk to all of you, if you have a chance.”

Jeff nods, still shooting Harry a knowing look. “Yeah, sure thing.” 

The two Jeffs, Tom, and Mitch engage in their own conversations, mostly inside jokes that go over Alani’s head. Harry watches, silent for most of the interaction and barely engaging the girl seated across from him, though he is overwhelmingly aware of her presence. When the server comes to take their order, warmth floods to Alani’s cheeks.

“Alani, hey!” the tall server greets, flashing a handsome, pearly-white smile. “Long time, no see. You’re looking good as always,”

“Mahalo, David. You look good, as well,” She smiles politely, catching onto the way that Harry sits a little straighter in her peripheral vision. David still pays no regard to the rest of the table, but his gaze momentarily flickers over Harry and sizes him up before returning to Alani.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were on a date,” he apologizes, which makes Alani’s eyes bulge  and Mitch snicker beside her. 

“Oh no, we’re not—“

“He’s just—” Alani and Harry speak at the same time, eyes darting to one another before she explains.

“I’m... working on something—an article,” she says, and David nods understandingly.

“Oh...right. Big-shot reporter, I almost forgot,” David teases in a snide way that makes Harry’s blood boil with annoyance. “Anyways, what can I get you all? The usual for you, right Alani?”

She nods curtly while the rest of the group take turns ordering. After the server has gone,  Harry notices a shift in her easy-going demeanor and decides that it’s his turn to break the ice.

“Come here often then?” He poses gently, taking a sip of his lemonade.

Her lips press into a tight line as her eyes wander to the other patrons. “Yeah, kinda,”

“Asshole ex-boyfriend ruined that, I’m guessing?”

Alani lets out an amused breath and shakes her head.

“He’s not my ex. I mean we went out, like, once in high school... and maybe a handful of times in college but that’s it, really,” 

Harry studies the uneasiness in her expression trying, and failing, to understand what she’s holding back.

“Seems like you dodged a bullet,” he confides, leaning in. Alani’s eyes meet his and her pursed lips ease into a small grin, which Harry mirrors with a simper of his own. As he rests his smooth chin in his palm, she notices a large, healing scab along the underside of his forearm, and her brows furrow.

“How’d that happen?” Alani asks.

“He jumped out a window,” Mitch intervenes. “Though to be fair, he was high,”

Harry shoots a deathly glare at Mitch and turns back to Alani. “It was a one-time thing.”

“It was shrooms,” Mitch replies with an amused smirk.

“Hardcore,” Alani giggles lightly. 

Mitch swirls the straw in his mimosa with his index finger while extending a pinky at Alani. “You do drugs?”

She shrugs, taking a sip of her Mai Tai. “Smoked weed a few times, though not enough to consider myself a pothead, I guess,”

Mitch snorts and steals a glance at Harry. “Pot makes our boy sleepy, and hungry. Alcohol makes him giggly. Shrooms get him buzzed just right,”

Harry’s cheeks flush and he averts his gaze past Alani where families and visitors roam the streets outside. 

“Jumping out a window’s  ‘just right’? I’d hate to see what going overboard looks like.” she teases, watching the blush of embarrassment creep across the bridge of Harry’s nose and cheeks.

“Keeps things interesting.” Mitch shrugs, turning back to Jeff to join his previous conversation.

 Alani feels a strange sense of endearment wash over her at the thought of a giggly Harry, dimples replacing a deeply furrowed brow. In the short time she’d known and served him at the café, she’d only ever seen him reserved—polite, at best. Alani had hoped that interviewing Harry would provide some insight into his mysterious background, but she didn’t imagine that she would want to know more than what could be penned in her article. In the few minutes spent mingling with him and his friends, she began to think that maybe there was something worth getting to know, not just professionally, but before she can give it a second thought, David returns with their food.

“Thanks, Derek.” Harry says, flashing a facetious grin at David who stands confused for a second before sauntering back to the kitchen. Alani laughs, quickly clasping a hand over her mouth, and Harry’s stomach flips at the sound. He immediately wishes he knew what else he could do to hear it again.

Alani scrapes the last bits of potato off her plate and leans back in her seat, patting her growing food baby. 

“I’m thinking of naming mine Oliver, you?” She sighs contentedly. 

“Anne, after my mum,” he quips back, pulling out his wallet.

Alani reaches into her bag for her own, but Harry shakes his head and speaks up. “Don’t worry about it, ‘s on me,”

“Oh, no Harry you really don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs, slipping his card onto the small clipboard attached to their receipts.

“Thank you,” Alani smiles, feeling warmth spread through her limbs, but she assumes that it’s mostly due to the rum in her system.

Harry pushes a lock of hair behind his ear and returns the wallet to his back pocket without another word. While there is no alcohol coursing through his blood, he refuses to believe that the burning in his cheeks has anything to do with the girl seated before him.

Alani climbs back into the passenger’s seat of the SUV while Harry settles behind the wheel. He braces his right hand behind the headrest of her seat and skillfully reverses, only becoming aware of their proximity when he turns back to switch gears. Alani peels her eyes from his and focuses on finding a playlist for their journey back to the studio, her mind racing as she clicks shuffle. Harry’s arm retreats, much to Alani’s disappointment, and his ears perk up when he hears the familiar chimes at the beginning of Fleetwood Mac’s “Everywhere”.

“‘S a good one,” Harry breaks the silence, tapping on the steering wheel. “Christine always says it’s her favorite,”

“Christine...McVie?” Alani questions with an eyebrow quirked. “You know Christine McVie?”

“Kind of,” he shrugs, the corners of his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Do you know Stevie Nicks?”

“Yeah. She lives in London,”

“Holy shit!” Alani marvels, covering her mouth in excitement.

Harry chuckles lightly, stealing a glance over at Alani still processing the news. “Big fan?” 

She whips her head away from the window and scoffs. “Massive. Named my car Stevie, actually,”

“Hardcore,” Harry teases, echoing her own comment about his psychedelic escapades.

“Yes, Mr. Spider-Man. In my own right, I suppose it is hardcore,” Alani retorts.

“I thought  Spider-Man climbed buildings. Don’t think he jumped out of them.”

“I’m sure he’s done his fair share of both.”

The two drive down the coast for a while without a word, Harry drumming against the steering wheel as the song dies out while Alani soaks in the view outside her window. Suddenly, she reaches over and taps him on the arm, drawing him out of his reverie. 

“Turn right up there!”

“Why?” Harry asks, already putting his blinker on. 

Alani doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. Harry saw it just seconds after turning into the lookout and it left him breathless. The car comes to a stop and Alani wastes no time unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping into the humid air, Harry close behind. Before them, the biggest rainbow either of them had ever seen shimmers in the high afternoon sun like a wall of unbelievable vibrant hues. Harry had never seen one this close, he felt as though he could reach out and feel each color slip through his fingers. 

“Are you making a wish?” Alani asks reverently, as if raising her voice too loud will spook it away. 

“I thought that was for shooting stars,”

“We’re literally staring face to face with a rainbow and you’re gonna argue with me about the logistics of a wish?”

“Okay, okay,” he relents, grinning to himself as his eyes flutter close. 

Harry takes a deep breath and searches his brain for something, anything, but there is only one word pounding in his mind. He doesn’t know why it stood out to him when Alani first said it, but it struck a chord within him that hasn’t stopped reverberating, so it must mean something. Harry swallows the lump forming at the back of his throat and releases the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. When his eyes flutter open again, he steals a peek through the corner of his eye at the girl beside him and then fixes his gaze back on the rainbow. 

“S’quite big, innit?” He remarks, breaking the reverent silence. 

Alani snorts and shakes her head, turning on her heel back to the car. 

“You’re so eloquent. Can’t wait to hear what lyrical gems are hiding in your new album,”

“Heyyy,” Harry pouts, climbing behind the wheel. “Who said anything about an album?” 

As they peel away from the lookout, Harry can sense something has shifted in the atmosphere, though he can’t quite put his finger on it. He opts to ignore it and poses a lighthearted question instead. 

“What’d you wish for?”

Alani narrows her eyes playfully. “You’re not supposed to tell. It won’t come true.”

Harry hums, trying to imagine what she could possibly wish for that would require such secrecy, but his thoughts wander back to the singular word that has haunted his mind since it left her lips. 

Home.

Next Chapter

[yerawizardjulia]

Too Rich for a McNugget (Wolfstar)

A university student enters an antique shop in a panic. How do you buy a wedding gift for a cousin you hate? 

Sirius wouldn’t have looked twice at the dusty shop if he wasn’t stupidly, desperately late. The high street itself was laughing at him and he was uncomfortably aware of the scrubby guy on the bench that had definitely seen him walk past the same shop window three times in a desperate attempt to see anything other than tea towels and obnoxiously cheerful decorated mugs with ‘World’s best dad’ printed on the sides in Comic Sans. His fingers were slippery in anxious sweat as he pressed the home button on his phone, his iPhone six, another reason his presence would be scorned at this godforsaken gathering. The smudgy screen blinked into life and displayed, seemingly smugly after Sirius’ growing resentment towards the device, 12:42.

Twenty fucking minutes. If he didn’t show up with a gift he might as well not show up at all, an option he would have embraced wholeheartedly if his mother hadn’t pincered him into a corner at their last, regularly depressing routine coffee catch up and told him the deeds to his inheritance were under considerable threat if he did not attend. He wouldn’t have minded, but being twenty grand in debt to an English degree in a rented apartment with black mould creeping onto the ceiling made him reconsider his options.

Fucking Narcissa.

He wouldn’t have been looking forward to the wedding even if she wasn’t marrying a right wing, Eton-educated, ‘can’t control these blasted immigrants’ CEO of whateverthefuck that looked as though he’d never even touched an item of clothing that didn’t come from Armani. It was so typical of his cousin to find a man who deferred so minimally from their shared families’ frankly alarmingly consistent Tory heritage that Sirius had had to do some extensive Googling to confirm that Lucius Malfoy was not in fact, a not-so-distant relative.

A text buzzed in his hand, the little green notification welcome on the screen. At least it was an excuse to loiter outside this shop window for another minute or so without looking like a genuine psychopath.

‘Just get her a toaster or something idk.’

Sirius hadn’t really expected James’ solution to his predicament to be helpful, but his flatmate’s response nevertheless sent the hopeless feeling in his stomach a few inches lower. He had never expected for his future to be balanced on the purchase of a wedding gift, but he would almost prefer to sit his first-year exams, which he had taken with a hangover so severe it felt like he was going to vomit out of his eyeballs, all over again than have to look at this shop window for a second longer. He pictured sitting in a gutter in London, like the tramps that his mother refused to make eye contact with during their trips out during his childhood, drinking from a bottle wrapped in brown paper and thinking; if only I had gone with the luxury jam set. He had discarded the idea after noticing the Tesco’s Finest logo above the barcode, but it was beginning to look like his best option.

Another text. No, a call. Sirius shoved the phone back into his hoodie he was using to mask the aristocratic wedding attire beneath. Keepers of pretentious little shops such as the ones lining this dusty high street tended to bump their prices through the roof if they saw someone of his blood walk in. Old blood. Old money. It was unfair, really, because Sirius didn’t actually have any. If he did, he probably wouldn’t mind paying the exorbitant prices; James spent half his life agonising over how independent businesses were being suffocated by Amazon. But Sirius had nothing to his name until his dear grandparents decided to snuff it. The phone ceased buzzing waspishly in his pocket, and he decided he had better check who he was ignoring. 

Typical fucking Regulus. 

Probably the only human being under twenty that actually went out of his way to call people, rather than text. He would be there already, exchanging pleasantries in the foyer of the Malfoy’s third manor home. Checking to see whether the Black family disappointment was showing his face, or if he’d have to rely on his six predicted A* grades and brand new Porsche that probably cost more to insure than it did to buy to present himself as the golden child. He’d probably have a stupid little flower in his stupid little button hole. Being a cousin of the bride and a groomsman of the groom, Regulus had firmly nestled himself already into this hideous conjunction of families. He had a job lined up for him in Malfoy’s London branch. In six months, he’d probably have his own office.

Sirius had diluted his shampoo with water for the second time this morning.

He scowled and kicked a bottle cap along the pavement as he stumped, once again, down the row of shops. The circular metal projectile skittered across the tarmac and bounced off a door frame. He stopped, staring suddenly at the sign swinging on a pair of metal hooks like it was a medieval fucking tavern.

Fletcher’s Quality Gifts and Trinkets.

Somehow, inexplicably, Sirius’ eyes had slid over this shop four times as he’d panicked his way up and down this stretch of pavement. There was no window display, that was why. The door fit seamlessly between Bobbin’s Haberdashery and a derelict Cafe Nero. Sirius felt his phone buzz again and suppressed the urge to throw it into the path of the lazy, midday traffic crawling its way up the high street. He stared at the chipped paint and begged silently, to whatever entities may have been listening, that he would find something, anything to take to this fucking wedding.

The door jammed awkwardly on the floor as Sirius pushed it open. It made a juddering, dry squeak, scuffing on the splintery wood. Sirius winced, and half thought about just turning tail and walking out again, going back to pick up that cheap-as-shit jam set. Narcissa probably didn’t even eat jam. Was jam vegan?

He had to push his way in sideways, and as he did so, the door unstuck, swinging open and leaving him standing, pointlessly squashed back against the door frame. Sirius closed his eyes and wondered whether anything was going to go right today.

When he opened them, a guy was blinking at him from behind a checkout desk. A book was open on the surface before him and his long legs with too short trousers that showed a few inches of garishly coloured socks were rested upon the desk next to the till. He removed them hastily to the floor as Sirius stared.

“Sorry, the door- It gets stuck- you have to like-“ He mimed something that Sirius couldn’t even begin to relate to unsticking a door. “Sorry,” he finished, lamely. He bent over his book. Sirius peeled himself from the frame, not taking in the low beams that he would probably hit his head on or the items grouped together in nonsensical piles on the shelves and stacked on the floor.

This guy was gorgeous. He had an odd collection of features that were nothing special, when you looked at them individually- a nose that listed to the left, a thin top lip, a smattering of pigmentation on his cheeks that suggested acne that had been grown out of- but together... Sirius couldn’t stop staring at him. That tawny hair- fucking tawny, who am I, William pissing Wordsworth?- That sharp chin, those long fingers that teased the edge of the paper as he finished reading his page.

He was absolutely, fundamentally, not Sirius’ type. Any romantic entanglements he had had- and granted, it was not a long list (he and James had one sellotaped to the fridge)- involved men so deep in the closet they were practically choking on mothballs. They were footballers, mostly, insecure, ‘just experimenting’. Sirius didn’t know why his gaydar was sounding off so strongly. Was it the deeply uncool granddad jumper that somehow looked like it belonged in Men’s Vogue when draped over his long torso? Sirius was hardly modest about his own looks, but if he tried that jumper on he would look like the kid that forgot his P.E. kit. The same went for the not-skinny, not-baggy jeans that looked as though they were made for literally anyone other than him but somehow, looked really cool and why did Sirius love those hideous socks so much? Did they have pineapples on them? 

The guy, seemingly unaware of Sirius lurking behind the shelf closest to the door, propped the book up in his hands, and Sirius read the title- The Picture of Dorian Grey.

Well, there it is.

“IneedapresentforacousinIhatewho’smarryingaguythathasprobablynevereatenaMcDonald’schickennugget.” Sirius was hardly more aware of the words projectile vomiting from his mouth than he was of the way he was sidling towards the checkout desk with his hands wringing in front of him like he was expecting this guy to stand up and shout at him.

Brown eyes emerged from behind the finest work of Oscar Wilde, carrying a look of mild alarm.

“Because, he’s rich, not a vegetarian.” Sirius finished. His mouth seemed a long way behind his brain, but perhaps that was a good thing, because his brain was currently screaming FUCK ME and Sirius was not willing to be barred from any more establishments for hedonistic behaviour.

“A wedding present?” His voice was mild, like Sirius had just asked a perfectly normal question for a stranger to ask a shop employee.

“Uh, yeah.” Why was he blushing? He never blushed. He stepped back needlessly as the guy rose from behind the desk. He was tall. Proportionately tall, with long limbs and a long neck and long god knows what else. Sirius nearly fell to his knees in reverence when the guy cracked a smile that caused a dimple to poke in his cheek and exposed sharp canines that Sirius never considered worth noticing in anyone before but holy fuck he would be now.

“You know what, I think I’ve got something.” He was walking away down one of the dark-ish isles, stooping considerably to avoid the beams and Sirius was trailing after him, awkward and out of place and acting so drastically not like himself he wondered if he had sustained a concussion at some point. Maybe when he was forcing his way through that rude fucking door. The hair at the nape of this guy’s neck curled slightly like he was due a haircut. His trainers were really beat up and old, and Sirius was sure he could see one of the laces fraying and considered whether he should warn him he was about to trip.

“When is this wedding?” His voice was still mild and almost disconcertingly polite; he had stopped and was rummaging among a pile of objects on a shelf-seriously, how was anyone supposed to find anything in here?- and Sirius was still staring at his trailing shoelace.

“Well, sort of now.”

He stood up a bit straighter as the brown eyes widened, and he was looking at him, properly, for the first time and Jesus Christ, how were you supposed to stand normally? Where were your arms supposed to go? Eyebrows, light brown and shapeless and a bit sparse at the ends, furrowed and he let out a small huff of amusement. It was the politest expression of ‘this dude’s a complete disaster’ that Sirius had ever seen. “I’ve been putting it off,” he added needlessly. Something about the way this guy was now looking him up and down as if he could read his life story just from Sirius’ tailored trousers that he’d forgotten to get dry cleaned and his hoodie that was actually James’ and his shoes that looked expensive but were actually from TKMaxx was making him need to offer increasingly poor explanations for his shambles of a life. “I don’t want to go, but I have to, and I hate weddings anyway, but especially this one, and I-‘

The look of curious amusement on the guy’s face- god, Sirius really wanted to know his name- halted his rambling. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “I’m not normally this stressed.”

“That’s okay,” he replied, as if it was his job to tolerate a load of garbled nonsense from strangers, like he did it regularly, in fact, which made him wonder what kind of people actually came into this shop that you could barely tell existed. He was still rummaging through the shelves, Sirius was pretty sure a couple of things had fallen off the back and were now in the dark recesses of the between-shelf-and-wall space where things went to die. God, did anyone ever actually buy anything in here? He found it easier to control himself when the guy stopped x-raying him with his eyes, so he said “er, how long’s this shop been here?”

“Oh, I’ve only worked here six weeks. No idea, ages, probably.” He picked up a remarkably creepy porcelain figure of a shepherdess that was covered with so much dust that at first glance, Sirius thought it was some kind of radioactively-deformed elephant.

“I see what you mean,” said Sirius, staring at the figurine reproachfully. “How does anyone find anything in here?” The questions were not what he actually wanted to ask, which involved something along the lines of are you gay-are you single-are you safe from asbestos in this shop and do you think I’m a complete weirdo. He perked up when the guy let out another polite huff of laughter.

“Most customers have been coming in here for years,” he said, “I don’t see a lot of new people.” His eyes flickered to Sirius and back again and Sirius felt as if he was preparing to dive from a very large boat into a sea that was very cold.

“What’s your name?” Sirius asked, louder than he had meant to. He cringed inwardly and for the second time, considered legging it out of the door when he was once again regarded by a pair of searching brown eyes.

“Remus,” he said. Sirius could tell he was waiting for him to laugh. When he didn’t, because how the fuck could this man get any more attractive, and somehow the name Remus suited him down to his shredded laces, he turned to face him, as if in defiance.

“Hilarious, I know. Remus Lupin, which makes it even better.” Sirius’ resolve cracked at this.

“What?” He squawked, dragging his eyes over Remus again, because he looked like any novelist's wet dream and his name was Remus fucking Lupin... “Mine’s worse.” Sirius said, straightening again. Remus Lupin was rolling his eyes as if in grim acceptance of the barrage of snide jibes that had yet to tumble from Sirius’ mouth, but his eyebrows had disappeared into his hair at Sirius’ response and his arms were folded across his chest, which pulled the loose neck of his jumper down and exposed a few inches of pale sternum.

“I don’t believe you.”

Sirius grinned at this. He cleared his throat and pulled his hand out of the pouch/pocket/thing on the front of his hoodie which was definitely not a secure place for his phone, wallet and keys, and held it out.

“Sirius Black. Pleasure to meet you.” Remus’ mouth had fallen slightly open and a smile was touching at the corners of his lips as he took Sirius’ hand. Sirius was almost surprised that there was no jolt of electricity from all the built up static in his woollen jumper, but his skin was cool and his fingers were thin and twiggy and the knuckles were surprisingly big, and he didn’t drop it straight away, which made Sirius wonder if it was intentional, like a sort of gay signal, and then he remembered the Oscar Wilde book on the checkout desk and stopped trying to look for gay signals.

“Holy shit,” Remus spluttered. The profanity rolled masterfully from his lips; Sirius had never quite got the hang of swearing after his stuffy, conservative upbringing. Remus made it sound graceful.

“What a pair, eh?” said Sirius, and then cringed inwardly again because they weren’t a pair, they were complete strangers but somehow it felt like they’d known each other forever and fuck when did it get so hot in here? He looked at the shelves where Remus’ other hand still rested, and tried to ignore the eyes that were sliding up and down his body as Remus Lupin gave him what Sirius recognised as ‘the gay once-over.’ Dressed in the odd assortment of James’ secondary school football hoodie that had been surpassed by the frankly unnatural growth of James’ shoulders, pretentious shoes and crinkled dress trousers, Sirius was acutely aware that he was not looking his whole and considerable best. Christ, he might even look straight.

“There’s um-you said you might have something?” Sirius said, after another twenty five seconds in which Remus’ gaze had lingered on the rings Sirius had forgotten to take off (his mum would kill him if he turned up to a wedding looking like anything other than a Conservative Straight Man) and then drifted to his hair which was probably fried from all the sweating and running about and cheap shampoo. Remus blinked at these words, and whipped his head back to the shelves as if startled he had been caught in the act.

“Yes! Sorry, it’s-erm-can you hold this?” He plonked a cast iron sewing machine into Sirius’ arms who sagged beneath the weight, wheezing as he tried to lock his knees without Remus noticing. What the hell kind of Hulk body was hiding under that jumper? Eyes streaming, he balanced it on top of a pile of ancient National Geographic magazines and prayed it would not succumb to the inevitable force of gravity. Remus was deep into the recesses of the shelf, standing on tiptoe to reach the very back. His socks were visible again and Sirius could see now that they were not pineapples, but durians. Cute. His jumper was riding up as he stretched to whatever unknown artefacts lurked at the very rear and now it was Sirius’ turn to stare, because there was some pale midriff exposed above the waist of his jeans and he was skinny, but not skinny, kind of-lean? Was that the word? He had that vee of muscle above his hip and Sirius was suddenly struggling not to choke on his own tongue.

"Here it is!", came Remus' muffled voice, and Sirius took a step back hurriedly. He was pretty certain he had been gazing glassy eyed at the shop-keeper's navel where a delicate line of dark brown hair descended below his belt, and pinched his own wrist hard behind his back as Remus' head emerged, and he shook some cobwebs out of his curly hair. He was holding a small box, and Sirius’ first thought was that if something covered in that much dust came within eight feet of Narcissa, her immune system would likely spontaneously combust due to overexposure. People like her didn’t have immune systems, they just loaded themselves up with fucking multivitamins and avoided any establishments without at least two Michelin stars. 

“Sorry it’s a bit-“ Remus blew a cloud of dust off the top of the box, coughed, and wiped it off on the back of his jeans, muttering ‘need to stop smoking.’ 

Sirius almost went feral at the image of his lips pursed around a Marlboro, but managed to pull his face into a socially acceptable frame in time for Remus to pass the box to him. “What do you think?” 

Squatting in a bed of midnight blue velvet, sat a pair of silver napkin rings. They were ornate, and completely hideous. Sirius started to grin. He picked one up to examine it. It was decorated with a stag, and the other with a doe. It was likely the engraver had never seen these animals in the flesh, which would account for their mildly horrifying humanoid faces. 

“Perfect,” muttered Sirius, turning the ugly silver object over in his hand. It was heavy and looked antique, and Sirius knew it would fit right in with the future Mrs. Malfoy’s entirely tasteless kitchen decor. He looked up at Remus, disbelieving in the way he had absolutely nailed Sirius’ mission. “Absolutely bloody perfect.” 

Remus grinned back, a wondrous sight, his hands half in the pockets of his faded jeans. Sirius returned the napkin ring to its box, and then thought of something that made his smile falter. 

“Are these solid silver?” 

“Yep,” Remus said happily. “Nineteenth century antiques, I believe.” But Sirius was pushing the box back into his hands, shaking his head. 

“I can’t afford that, sorry I-“ 

“Five quid.” The box flew back into Sirius’ hands before he could blink. 

“Come again?”

The shopkeeper shrugged. “I’m the only person who knew they were there, and I doubt anyone else would want to bestow something that vile on a newly wedded couple.” 

Was this guy even real? Sirius couldn’t quite fathom what he had done to deserve this act of kindness, but he wasn’t about to turn it down. 

“Thank you,” he said, earnestly. Remus shrugged again, but the smile remained. He took Sirius back to the counter, where he took the box back from him and, while Sirius dug in his pocket for some change, produced some silvery wrapping paper and parcelled it. Sirius stole a surreptitious glance at him as he tied it off with a navy ribbon. His eyelashes were sandy like his eyebrows, but they were thick and almost touched his cheeks when his eyes were cast down on his work. 

Sirius was having a crisis. He had never asked for anyone’s number before, but the thought of walking out of this shop and never seeing this god-sent individual again was criminal. His mouth felt dry. What if he had misread this interaction completely, and Remus was just a friendly, helpful guy? He glanced at the book, now balanced on top of the till while Remus rang up, and took a breath. 

“Good book, that” he said, indicating The Picture of Dorian Grey awkwardly. Remus looked from him, to the book, and back again. While Sirius experienced a burning sensation in the base of his chest, Remus nodded non commitantly, and swept the stack of pound coins Sirius had placed on the desk into the till. He looked away, agonising, kicking himself internally at his own ineptness, as he pulled a receipt from the till and passed it and the neatly-wrapped box across the table. 

“All done.” 

“Thanks.” Sirius could feel his cheeks burning, and decided a clean getaway was well overdue. He had picked up the items and had half turned away when he heard- “I wrote my number on that receipt, you know.” 

The burning in his chest now felt like a slowly inflating balloon. He looked down at the smooth piece of paper and saw a number scribbled in biro on its surface. Eleven numbers. Definitely a phone number. He turned hastily back to Remus, who was- Sirius was pleased to see- also looking slightly bashful. 

“Thought my gaydar had malfunctioned for a minute there,” Sirius said. Remus laughed. 

“It was really great to meet you.” He said, placing his feet up on the desk again. 

“And you,” Sirius replied. Elated, he headed for the door before Remus could change his mind. He dreaded to think how late he was now, but he couldn’t think of a situation more worth a bollocking from his mother than this one. He had yanked the reluctant door open when- 

“Hey, Sirius?” 

“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder. Remus was peering over the top of his book at him again. 

“Let me know how the wedding goes.” 

[blackenedwhite97]

Pregnant Panic- Poly! Erasermic x Reader

Hello! this was a requested fic from quite some time ago. I'll be catching up at some point, i'm in my final year of university so update will be more spaced out for the next few months.

Content Warning: Discussions of paternity, some medically accurate potentially a little gross conversations and mentions and depictions of anxiety and panic.

This story includes and Polyamorous relationship

Polyamory: the practice of engaging in multiple sexual relationships with the consent of all the people involved.

It was killing them. You’d think with how tired and unwell Shouta looked and how uncomfortable Hizashi seemed that they were the pregnant ones. Shouta was the most stressed you’d ever seen him, not because he didn’t want a child but because he was scared he’d be a bad father. You’d stayed up many late nights with him, looking out at the dark city skyline through the living room window, him drumming up ways he’d fail as a father and you countering them with rationale and reassurance. He wanted to be there, he wanted to be present. You all knew he was around the least; he was a teacher during the day and a full-time hero at night. Hizashi was usually home at night, at least.

Hizashi wanted two things. The first, to be as good of a dad as he knew Shouta was going to be. The second, to know which one of them had knocked you up. Hizashi, unlike Shouta had full confidence in Shouta’s ability as a father. Hizashi also had confidence in his own ability to be a father. Yet, and you assumed it was natural, the two of them compared themselves to each other constantly. They both felt like they had to fill a role that was usually filled by only one parent, a father. In regard to his second wish: It was driving him insane. Hizashi didn’t want to know for the reason of ascertaining who the “real” dad was, it was more of a who’s quirk we might have to deal with.

While it’s not a given that a child’s quirk is going to be the same as your parents, it’s still a possibility. A possibility some families count on so greatly that they arrange marriages based on quirk compatibility to keep their bloodline strong and on the top tiers of society. Your little mismatched family never worried about that sort of thing, whether this child was a telekinetic like you, made your ears bleed when they threw a tantrum like Hizashi or could shut his dad up like Shouta, or even if they were quirkless you’d all love them with every fiber of your beings.

This was going to be one lucky kid.

Hizashi was squirming around in his chair, his legs going from being slung over the arm rest to being tucked underneath him. Shouta was as still as a statue save the tip of his boot where his toes were wiggling with nervous energy. Hizashi shifted his position for the umpteenth time, his legs swinging around towards Shouta, their knees bumping. Shouta shot out his hand and gripped Hizashi’s knee, holding him in place.

“Stop squirming.” He grumbled.

Hizashi stilled and slumped back, splaying his limbs out dramatically. “Babe, come here.”

Hizashi looked slide long at you through his lashes and a grinned, waving you over.

“Sure, yeah. Hold on, lemme just-” you placed a hand under your swollen stomach as if that would help carry any of the weight and hopped off the examination table. You landed in a wide stance, almost losing your balance from the nearly one-foot drop. It was pitiful, since you’d started to really show it was almost like all of your hero training went straight out the door. Mind you, your hips were wider than they’d ever been, and you were twenty-seven pounds heavier than you’d ever been. You also constantly had a little critter kicking you in your bladder, which was very new.

You waddled towards Hizashi, the smallest of grins pulling at Shouta’s mouth as he watched you. He found your knew range of mobility highly entertaining. You stopped just short of Hizashi’s wildly splayed out feet, nudging one with the toe of your shoe.

“Can you stand behind me for a sec?’ Hizashi sat up straight. “I wanna try something.”

“Okay?” you raised an eyebrow but waddled around him anyways.

As soon as you were behind him he leaned back in his chair and propped his head back on your belly. He closed his eyes and sighed in contentment. “Now, I’m comfy.”

You stared down at him as he fought a stupid grin, trying to keep his face serene. Goof. “I’m glad our kid is already good for something.” You sighed, stroking the top if Hizashi’s head and smoothing his hair back.

Shouta blinked, his brows knitting together. “You are such a dad already.”

“Been practicing!” Hizashi quipped, shooting up and snapping one of his fingers into a gun.

Shouta rolled his eyes but couldn’t help himself and chuckled.

The door to the examination room opened and in walked a kind looking older woman with deep smile lines and dark shining eyes. She looked like she worked with babies for a living, there was a pure unadulterated kindness about her. “Mrs. Y/L/N?”

“Hi, yeah that’s me.” You turned towards her and stretched out a hand.

She took it with a smile and eyed the two men in the chairs. “Which one of you is the father?”

The three of you had agreed when this all started happening for the sake of appointments that weren’t with doctors you’d be seeing regularly Shouta was going to be the father. It was hard enough explaining that the three of you were together romantically anyways, add a baby in and the fact that you don’t know which one of them was the biological father and you have a proper scandal. Out of the three of you Hizashi was the most recognizable and had the closest thing you could equivalate to a fan base so Shouta felt that in order to keep a sense of privacy around all of this he’d be the place holder father. You’re doctor and OB GYN both understood the whole situation, of course they needed to. Both had been in favor of a paternity during the pregnancy, which you had wanted to fore go until after the birth. At this point in the pregnancy it would have to be an invasive test and with this being your first child the three of you were so nervous you didn’t want to even consider taking that chance.

Shouta cleared his throat and stood up, reaching out for a hand shake as well. “That would be me.”

Hizashi shrunk down in his chair, he had agreed to this prearrangement, but it still stung a bit. You placed a brief set of comforting pats on his shoulder and he straightened up a bit.

“Right,” the kind eyed woman took his hand. “everything seems to be going well and on track. If you wanted to go over specific we could step into another room?”

She eyed Hizashi, and curious look about her. It was probably rare to see a friend sitting in on any sort of appointment. You shook your head and spoke up.

“Oh, he’s here to help us keep track of everything. I have total baby brain and Sho gets… overwhelmed.” You smiled at her reassuringly, trying to normalize the situation.

“O-okay.” She looked down at the clip board in her hand and skimmed the page. “The only thing I would say is out of the ordinary is that all signs are pointing to a later birth than expected. This is completely normal, of course. There are a few options if we feel as though the little one if take their sweet time a little too seriously such as inducing birth.”

You looked down at your swollen belly, your little one didn’t even stir. Why would they want to leave anyways, the little shit was swaddled in warmth and had a direct line to all the caving food you were constantly supplied with. Aside from the waddling, miniscule range of motion, tiny bladder and hip and back pain you didn’t mind being pregnant too much. The boys were totally whipped, which you tried not to take too much advantage of. But you were human and Hizashi was getting really good at baking.

“Inducing how?” Hizashi questioned from his seat.

“W-well,” she looked at you and Shouta for approval before speaking, Shouta nodded. “there are ways to induce labour through hormonal injection as well as more slightingly invasive physical ways, however it all depends on the circumstances. We prefer the less invasive ways for new parents generally speaking.”

Hizashi nodded and there was an awkward silence for a few seconds. The woman looked between the three of you then looked back down at the sheet and began tearing slips off along the perforated lines. “Here are your prescription cards, signed off by Dr. Onishi.”

“Thanks.” You took the slips from her outstretched hands and she slipped out of the room, you could have sworn her polite smile slipped from her face as she closed the door behind her. She sniffed you three out.

“Invasive?” Shouta mumbled. “How invasive?”

Hizashi shrugged as he stood up, grabbing your jacket off the end of the exam table to help you into it. You turned around and let him help you into it, even putting on a jacket was harder when you were this pregnant.

“They’ll stick a plastic hook up my vagina a pop the amniotic sack thing.” You explained, expecting full well the boy’s reactions.

Hizashi shivered violently and let go your jacket, shaking himself out like a dog trying to rid itself of water after a swim. Shouta’s nose flared and his eyes rolled to the side as he frowned.

“Is that painful?” Hizashi asked, his voice still shaky.

“No one on google really said anything about that but it’s safe to assume is they won’t talk about it, it’s not good.” You shrugged.

“Ew.” Hizashi stuck out his tongue like a kid tasting adult food for the first time.

“Yeah, can we uh, stop talking about this?” Shouta, if it had been possible, had paled out. Throughout the pregnancy Shouta had gone from the toughest out of the three of you to the one that was the most squeamish about everything. Sure, Hizashi was over dramatic and very vocal about his thoughts and feelings but he always had been. For Shouta, the idea of your body literally contorting to stabilize itself only for it all the end in hours of screaming, crying and otherworldly pain was too much. Normal injuries? Doable. Anyone could get hurt. Giving birth? That was something only you could do out of the three of you and he didn’t like that.

“Sure.” You smiled at him and he hooked his arm under yours as you all made your way out of the building to the busy street outside.

“What’s up for dinner?” Hizashi asked, pulling up his collar against the wind. The winter was blowing in and Japan was in the early stages of grey skies windows and cool winds, not yet covering in heavy snow and frozen streets.

“Um, I kinda forgot it was my night.” You muttered. If you hadn’t been the pregnant you’d have been subject to a somewhat sarcastic lecture at the hands of Hizashi, but you were practically untouchable now-a-days.

“Let’s just pick up something on the way home.” Shouta grumbled.

“I gotta fill my prescriptions, though. We can just go to the grocery store, there’s a pharmacy in the back.” You said.

“I don’t want to make you cook.” Shouta sniffed, the cold air making his nose run. “Plus, it’s cold as hell and the grocery store is refrigerated, I don’t want you getting sick.”

“Sho I can-” you started to protest.

“Dad has spoken.” Hizashi chimed in, wrapping and arm around your shoulder. “We can split, Y/n and I can head home a grab food on the way, and you can go fill her prescriptions?”

“Nice try, Mr. “I-wear- a jacket- all- the-time-for-fashion”. You go get the pills; we’ll get the food. I’m fucking freezing.” Shouta poked Hizashi in the forehead.

“I can’t help that I like the layered look, Sho.” Hizashi huffed. You turned to his and gave him a peck on the tip of his nose, a dopey grin spreading across his lips. God he was easy to butter up, he was such a glutton for physical affection.

You took off you scarf and wrapped it around his neck and handed him your prescription slips. “Your assignment Present Mic.”

“Aye-Aye, Ma’am.” He saluted dramatically.

“You own me a warm drink when I get home!” he added over his shoulder at Shouta who was already wrapping his arms around you as you waited for the walk signal.

Shouta was a furnace as the best of time and a miniature sum at the worst of times. You’d taken his temperature before, worried that he had fevers or worked himself sick in the early days of your relationship. He was always around the normal base line, he just radiated heat like crazy. You sank back into him and let his thick wavy hair curtain around your face. You looked up and make eye contact with his smoldering dark eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

“Hey.” You said.

“Hey.” He hummed into your hair.

“What do you want to eat?” you asked.

“Hmm,” she closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “something warm.”

The cars came to a halt and the walk chime sounded as the pedestrian light lit up. “Ramen it is.” you chirped and skipped awkwardly froward, your splayed hips not exactly made for such enthusiastic movement. He trailed behind you; your hand clasped in his.

The Ramen shop on the way was the kind of shop you couldn’t eat in; it was a thin rectangular shop with just enough room for a line and the counter. You had never minded before but lately the lack of seating options as you waited was less than ideal. You and Shouta had to make do with leaning into each other, him trying to support you but making a makeshift seat with his thighs while she leaned against the wall. The cashier rang a small bell and called your order number with a polite thank-you. You scuttled to the counter and retrieved the expertly packed bags of lidded ramen bowls.

When you made it back to Shouta he was staring down at his phone, his normal peaceful tiredness replaced by an annoyed alertness. He was frowning and pulling away from the wall.

“What’s wrong?” you asked just in time for him to look up at you.

“Uh, there’s an emergency call for heroes. Like, three blocks from here.” He looked as though if he hadn’t been waiting for you to return he’d have already dashed out of the door. It was in his blood, Shouta was a hero and until one the assholes had knocked you up so were you. The splayed hips somewhat dulled that itch to jump into action, but you could remember how it drove you crazy.

“Go.” You nodded. “I can get home.”

“Y-you’re- really?” he turned towards the door and you could see him winding up like a spring action toy.

“Yes, go!” you waved him off. Without another work he was off, the door swinging in the wake of his exit. Although you hated to admit it, this kid had changed more than just your body. You never worried like you did now. You were never so afraid od the average mission or call turning into something catastrophic, you were paranoid about patrols in good neighborhood and rescuing cats from trees. Shouta literally rescued a cat the other night and when he was telling you about it all you could see was him toppling out of the tree and getting hurt. Whenever one of them left for work they would be setting up times to check in, and Hizashi being the chronically late guy that he is had to suddenly start keeping track of time. You didn’t want to raise this kid without either of them and while you all knew full well that it was a possibility with the life you all lived, it still terrified you to no end.

You tried to calm yourself as you stepped out onto the street, people were still milling about, and there was no thirty-foot inferno to speak of so things couldn’t have been that bad. You waddled the rest of the way home, bags of soup sloshing around in your hands, trying to stay calm. You weren’t doing very well. Usually you had at least one of the boys with you or they were together but no doubt Hizashi also had gotten the message. You groaned to yourself, knowing full well he’d also responded.

Your hands were shaking, hoping it was just the cold you rooted around in your pockets for your keys. Getting them in the door was an experience, both frustrating and upsetting in the only the way a pregnant person can attest to. Were the tears running down your face because you couldn’t get the key in the door or because you were a walking rage pile or hormones and anxiety? You whipped angrily at your tears and shoved open the building door, warm air washing over you. At least it was warm.

The building got more and more blurry as you made your way to your apartment, tears fulling your eyes until the lights were just wavering streaks. You were huffing breaths into what felt like air starved lungs, sobs pounding against your cheat trying to break free. You choked them down and rushed through our door, leaving the ramen in the hallway as you slammed the door shut behind you.

You really didn’t feel like being very very pregnant and having a panic attack. You started to pace around, running your hand through the soft blanket across the back of the couch and pressing your palms to the cool counter top as you went back and forth between eh kitchen and living room. Some tears fell but your eyes dried and soon enough your lungs stopped convulsing for air. You were still shaking and a knot was still tight in your gut but you had for the time being subdued the panic. With this new clarity you went you your room and pulled out you professional phone, the battery low having not been used in weeks.

You had also received the distress signal:

10 Ave and 4 St. Grand villain activity: League of Villain members sited at scene of disturbance. Requesting all back up in immediate area. Priority: Containment.

League of Villains. You’re stomach dropped, almost painfully. You gripped onto the sheets of the bed as you slid to your knees, panic rising in your chest again. You knew they were among other heroes, that Hizashi wasn’t a frontline fighter and Shouta would have a horde of heroes trying the keep him in play. You knew this. You also knew them, and that they could be stupid. Shouta had climbed a Goddamned tree the other night FOR A CAT. He could have fallen and died for a CAT. You choked down another sob. Hizashi was always the centre of attention and he did it on purpose. What if he tried to distract the villains and got hurt doing it? He’d done that once before on a mission and came home with a nasty concussion.

What if it was worse this time? What if the League was more organized?

You choked on another sob.

Warm arms wrapped around you and you jumped, trying to pull away.

“Hey, whoa, babe it’s me.” Hizashi hummed calmly. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s Zashi.”

He brought a hand to your head and held you against his chest, scooting closer to you in his crouching position. He kissed the top of your head and rubbed circles into your hair with his thumb and held you like that until you were able to calm yourself. “What happened?”

“I got scared.” You sniffed. “And I’m pregnant.”

“Oh.” Hizashi chuckled, pulling back to look at you. His nose was still rosy from the cold and his hair was swept back in messy waves. “Sorry.”

“You should be.” You punched him the shoulder, once for every word.

“Ow!” he whined, holding his arms up in defense.

“You did this to me!” you wailed. Irrational, yes. Cathartic? Also, yes.

“I refuse to take ownership until we get that paternity test!” he laughed somersaulting away from you.

You were just about to give him a piece of your pregnant mind when you heard Sho enter the apartment and trip over a set of paper bags.

“Y/N?” he called. “Hun? Are you, okay?’

Hizashi jumped to his feet and darted out of the room, shouting wildly. “She’s angry!”

You tried to push yourself up to your feel but couldn’t, slumping back down onto the carpeted floor next to the bed. The threw your hands up in the air frustrated, all that panic from earlier having left your body. Being pregnant was a wild ride, whatever you felt was so strong and so consuming at the time, but it could fade just a quickly as it came.

“I’m stuck!” you pouted.

Shouta crept into the door frame, Hizashi hiding behind him. The two of them melting at the sight of you slumped, cross legged on the floor, belly swollen, unable to move. Shouta grinned, that same entertained grin from earlier. He made his way to you and grabbed your hands hauling you to your feet. You slumped into him, reaching out a hand to motion for Hizashi to join in. Not one to pass up a good group hug Hizashi happily wrapped his long gangling arms around you and Shout, ignoring your grunts and he squeezed.

“That didn’t take long.” You mumbled into Shouta’s chest.

“Illusion base quirk, I erased it and it turned out to be a bunch of low levels trying to make a scene to get away with some cash.” Shouta explained. “You okay?”

You nodded and hummed into his chest.

“You sure? There’s soup in the hallway.” His whiskers rubbed against your forehead.

“The baby got scared.” You muttered.

“Oh?” he hummed, as if in thought. He pulled away from you and knelt down, so he was level with you belly. “Listen up little one, there’s nothing in this world that your parents can’t handle so don’t so around worrying us like that okay?”

Hizashi stooped down and eyed your belly very seriously. “Especially, your mom. She’s already doing all the heavy lifting, dude!”

You dropped your face into your hands a laughed. Yeah, this was one lucky kid.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 17

First time reader click here

TWs/Summary: Feelings! PTSD! Anxiety! Clint! Team bonding! Reader is a badass 😍 And comic book medical accuracy .

Un-beta-ed.

"It smells like a liquor factory in here," Bucky's voice came from the kitchenside, followed by noises of the team's arrival. Via portal, because the elevator made zero noise.

"I suggest you avoid the area around me and Clint. It might be contaminated." My voice sounded sharp to my own ears. I sat in silence for several hours, waiting for the team's return, while Clint restlessly dozed next to me.

My words caused the team to freeze in their tracks, owlishly blinking at me and at Clint laying sprawled on the floor, surrounded by plastic bags and biological hazard containment units. Tony's helmet swiftly covered his face - I heard muffled sounds coming from within, probably Friday's explanations. In seconds, the helmet retracted, showing an extremely worried Tony.

"How do you feel, Princess? Any weakness, any pain?"

"No symptoms, Tony. Just a fuckton of anxiety," I admitted, avoiding the concerned looks of Tony's teammates. "I almost drowned the room in alcohol but warned you just to be safe. Also, your alien pathogen protocol sucks."

"We made it so unauthorized personnel wouldn't get their hands on Thor's or Loki's blood samples," Bruce supplied meekly from where he was leaning against Steve, wearing a tattered hoodie and his hulk-out pants. "Off to decon we go," The scientist sighed. "Friday, code seven-zero-three-five-five. Pull up the data you gathered. In the shower." The man was exhausted, yet the call of science seemed to give Bruce a tiny energy boost. With newfound determination, he waddled to the communal showers, the rest of the team in tow.

Natasha's stare was truly unnerving. I was fully aware she and Barton had long history; the fact that I had to respond to one of the deadliest assassins if I had made even the slightest mistake - anxiety mixed with blind terror in me. I fought the nausea and the headache, focusing on Clint's hair between my fingers. His steady breathing.

He'd be okay. He had to be okay.

"You did great, Princess," The time passed in a blink. Bruce's warm hands were encompassing mine - gently pulling me away from Clint. I looked at Banner's face with unseeing eyes.

"I heard what Friday said and I can only applaud your quick thinking. You saved his life," Strange, sounding uncharacteristically quiet and bashful, parroted Bruce, hovering behind the scientist. His angular face was contorted in sorrow. "I believe I should apologize for dropping Barton onto you like that. I underestimated the extent of his injuries." The man sounded so, so guilty.

"I saved his life," I repeated in disbelief. Surely they were exaggerating.

"You did, malysh. For that, I am grateful," Natasha's hand found my own, squeezing briefly, before following Steve that had picked up a still-sleeping Clint, to, presumably, carry him to medical. "Come on, Banner, we need you."

Banner gave me a brief squeeze of his own, taking his leave, scurrying after Romanoff. I was left awkwardly standing in front of Strange, both of us disheveled and dazed.

"I ordered pizza," I said, just to fill the grim silence.

"Okay," Just like that, he snapped out of his trance, sitting down on the couch and picking up his food.

The others trickled in, Bucky, Pete, Thor, Loki, Sam, Wanda, Pietro. I saw it all like it was tinted by a thick fog. Their words made a jumbled cacophony when they reached my ears. Tony's arm around me - that woke me up, slightly. I focused on my favourite thing in the world - the faint smell of him, a mix of soap, machine oil and expensive cologne.

"She's shellshocked," Bucky suddenly said, pointing at me.

"No," I frowned. "No. I may be a fumbling idiot but I don't have PTSD."

Tony's breath stuttered in his chest. Promptly, I was turned around, a pair of intelligent brown orbs sharply gazing into my eyes. "Princess?"

"I'm so glad y'all are alright," I choked out, fisting the cotton of his shirt in my palm. "Even Stephen the asshole. Team bonding wouldn't be the same without his sarcasm," Hurrying to hide the fact that I was scared shitless, I did what I do best. I joked.

"Gods, you two are really a match made in heaven," Wanda's tired voice had 110% eye-roll in it. "So much self-deprication, almost as much as brilliance." The witch usually refrained from commenting on people's private thoughts. Usually, but not that day.

"I am relieved to know you hold me in high regards," Stephen's sarcastic remark made it's way around a mouthful of pizza.

Bucky's phone beeped. "They're saying Clint will be out in a few hours. No permanent damage, the gash on his leg won't scar and he's demanding Tony buy his saviour a cake," With a smile, the soldier read the text's contents out loud. "Also, the resident doc wants to hire you." Bucky pointed at me with a teasing grin.

"I, umm, I," Stammering, way to go. "I just - uh, I googled and I improvised? I'm not a doctor or a scientist, I'm a high school student," I replied, voice raising half an octave higher.

"Told you Tony, she's a friggin' genius," Peter sounded way too smug for someone who had a bruise half the size of his head.

"That she is," Tony's voice... Was different. It was honeyed and warm, blanketing me, surrounding me with safety. His arms tightened around me - not uncomfortably so, just enough to ground his presence in my personal space. I snuggled into him happily - he didn't mind at all. The cold glow and faint humming of his arc reactor calmed me. "Friday, cake. Princess cake from the bakery on Seventeenth."

Wow, Tony knew my favourite kind of cake. That was amazing.

"On it, boss." The AI immediately replied. "Well done, Miss." Friday addressed me with the same tone I heard in the lab. Gentle and understanding. It was so very strange.

We mulled around the living room until the pizza was gone and half the occupants were snoring away, dead where they sat. It was an unanimous decision to pull out the unfolding couch and form a cuddle pile of sorts - after such a long and grueling mission with one of their own facing the brink of death, all the superheroes were more than a little unsettled. I didn't exactly know where I fit in that. Obviously, all of them were close in one way or another. Even Loki and Stephen, seeing them get cussed out by Thor for attempting to leave was kind of amusing.

But it got me wondering. Maybe they felt like imposters, too? After all, I wasn't special. Loki wasn't considered a good guy. And Stephen was too much of a lone wolf. All three of us were comfortable alone, used to dealing on our own.

One look from Tony, Stark-patented puppy eyes, and I was making space for myself and for Stephen. Even if Loki insisted on grumbling all the way through, his exhaustion showed in the way he leaned on Thor's arm, using a weakly glimmering spell to summon himself a book and then closing his eyes for a moment.

Muted cheering broke out the moment elevator doors opened, showcasing a pale but smiling Clint held up on both sides by Natasha and Steve, Bruce half asleep on the blonde's other side.

"Looking pretty good for a dead bitch," Clint grinned in my direction.

I couldn't resist the bait. The boomer knew his memes, after all. "She's alive!"

He patted my leg, making his way to a free spot on the ginormous sofa bed. "Aw, pizza," He groused, spying the empty boxes.

"Should arrive in ten minutes," Bucky quipped, waving his phone. Then, the brunette super-soldier looked at me pointedly. "We usually order double after long missions."

"Duly noted, y'all hungry peoples." I said, filing it away for later. Thinking about more missions, more near-death experiences wasn't something I wanted to handle that very moment.

"So, uh, what exactly happened? My memory is pretty spotty," Clint demanded once he got his hands on some food.

"I also need to know. You're going to have to sign a statement and a mission report," Natasha stated apologetically.

I looked at her, confused. "Like... How many details do you need?"

Tony shifted beside me uncomfortably. I put a steadying hand on his leg - my palm was immediately dwarfed by his own. Natasha gave him a Look. "Fury's eyes only, but SHIELD needs to know how you figured out to neutralise a potential alien threat. Bruce ran some tests and this pathogen is... Pretty nasty, to say the least. It has the survivability to be classified as a potential weapon." Natasha's voice was apologetic, once more.

What have I gotten myself into? I was just trying to save a friend. "First of all, I'm not working for Men in Black, like, ever," I made the point to look her in the eyes. A brief moment later, she nodded. Tony relaxed, exhaling soundly. "Okay, get your reading glasses on. It went like this..." I retold the story, taking careful note to voice my thought processes as much as I remembered them. Save for a few surprised gasps and Tony haphazardly kissing the top of my head, the team gave me no interruptions.

Bruce was the first one to react once I was done. "But... How did you think of bloodletting? It's such an unusual solution," He mumbled more to himself.

"I've watched enough horror movies to know better than to introduce a foreign bacteria, such as antibiotics, to a person with an alien infection," I deadpanned, spying a satisfied smile on Stephen's face. "Worst case scenario, the substitution of infected blood with healthy would have diluted the amount of parasites or deflected their attention from eating away Clint's nerve endings. Him going bazinga from pain was my main concern," I admitted, the archer's pained cries once again filling my ears. The memory was still fresh.

"That makes sense," Bruce nodded.

"And what would you have done?" I asked, unable to withhold my curiosity.

"Sedated Clint while I examine the specimens," Banner replied with the obvious. "Then figure out how to cure the infection."

I nodded along slowly. "I considered that option but ultimately, I was too chicken to entertain the possibility of the parasites interacting with heavy sedatives. Fentanyl affects some of the blood components the parasites eat so only God knows how it might have ended."

Banner was impressed, that much was obvious. Tony's lips once again landed on the crown of my head, gentle and warm. More and more people in the room were giving me impressed, happy, grateful looks. It was strange and I squirmed in my spot, putting the half-eaten pizza slice back in the box, Steve immediately eyeing it in contemplation.

"Have at it, you human garbage disposal," I muttered, laying down comfortably. I was still shivering from the adrenaline rush and the soft blanket cocoon I shared with Tony and Stephen - their combined body heat under it - called to me like a siren.

"Are you well?" Loki noticed my state, casting a dark look over the edge of his book.

"Yeah, just cold. Us humans shiver when coming off an adrenaline rush," I remarked absently, pressing myself closer to Tony.

The engineer laid down, spooning me, tangling our legs together. We slept like that, all over each other, every time I stayed in his bed. It felt comfortable, like home, and nobody seemed to mind. Peter and Wanda, already snoozing away, were in a similarly indisposed state, octopus-ing their nearest teammates. Friends. Family.

My eyes drooped. My chest was about to burst with an odd sort of content - quiet, steady and welcoming. Tony's beard tickled my neck, breaths coming in soft puffs against my nape, spreading warmth all over me.

And there was something - someone warm in front of me, too, I could smell the sandalwood and spices of his cologne. Abandoning all reservations, I shamelessly wrapped both of my arms around a larger, more muscular one, taking note to avoid Stephen's scarred, sensitive hands. The flat of his tummy under my palm was rising and falling steadily, his breathing almost in sync with Tony's and mine.

All of us were safe and alive. It mattered to me, perhaps, more than I'd ever cared to admit out loud. As much as I refused to let them all in, for real and beyond silly gimmicks, they still wormed their way inside my heart, inside my brain. Not with long discussions and talking feelings - hell no, that's the hard and the boring shit, but with simply their presence.

Hugs. Mario Kart tournaments. Cake after I'd done good at something. Sunday morning pancakes for all. Homework. Sciencing together. Catching up on memes and just watching funny YouTube videos together. Playing Twister and Monopoly.

For the first time in my life, I had a stable presence. I belonged somwhere. It felt too good to deny, so once again, I allowed myself to be selfish.

✨ Taglist of my lovelies ✨ still open.

@another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading

[acreativeme]

Little Dove

Little Dove

Clinton Skye x Reader

A/N: I don’t know Russian, so I am using google translate. I apologize for any mistakes. Also, there is some triggers in here about kidnapping, sexual assault, and sex trafficking. 

She left a note, along with her phone and her engagement ring.

Clinton,

I’m sorry, but I couldn’t say goodbye in person. I wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye and lie to you. I will be gone for a while, so I am not asking you to wait for me. I can’t tell you anything yet, but I will try when I get back. I love you with everything in me. 

Y/N

��Clinton sunk down the wall, his heart breaking as he reread her letter. They had been together for a few years, only recently getting engaged. It took him a few minutes, but he called Jess for support.

...2 Months later…

With the help of her driver, Y/N stepped out of the town car-- the slips of her black bodycon gown showing off her muscular legs. Her hair was held back with silver dagger-like sticks, making it easy for her to hide weapons on her person. A bald man in a tight black suit held out his arm for her to take, escorting her into the ball room.

“Добрый вечер, мэм. Аукцион начнется через тридцать минут.”(Good Evening, Ma’am. The auction will begin in thirty minutes.) He said in a low tone. 

Y/N nodded, “Спасибо.” (Thank you.)

He let her go as they walked through the doorway of the ballroom. She walked up to the bar, ordering a gin and tonic. As she took a little sip, she scanned the room--picking out her targets in the crowd. A Russian human trafficker had kidnapped four undercover CIA agents, so Y/N was here to get them back and take out the traffickers.

She downed her drink, passing it off to a waiter as they walked passed by. She quickly reapplied her lipstick before heading towards her first target. He was standing off to the side, watching the crowd. Y/N acted as if she hadn’t noticed him standing there, to get him to make the first move. 

She watched him scan her from head to toe, smirking as he turned to fully look at her. “Вам нравится то, что вы видите?” (Do you like what you see?) She smirked, still facing away from him.

He smirked, “даже очень.” (Very much so). 

Y/N boldly took his hand, leading him to a door that was off to the side of the ballroom. She knew from studying the floor plans that there was a small coat room that was not being used. With her in front, she was not aware that he had pulled something out of his pocket. As he closed the door, Y/N reached for the dagger that she had strapped to her upper thigh. He wrapped one arm around her from behind, using the other to inject her with a sedative. 

“Goodnight, маленький голубь.’( Goodnight, little dove.) 

...6 months later…

Clinton’s POV

Clinton leaned against the counter, staring off into space-- which is something he’s been doing alot. His thoughts have been shifting towards Y/N, the ex that went missing. Everyone keeps asking how he knew she was missing and hadn’t just left him, and he’d always respond with that he felt it in his soul. He knew with his whole heart that she wouldn’t have left without a good reason. 

Jess stepped into the office with a grave look out his face. “Pictures of missing 16 year old, Irene Romanov, were found on sex trafficking website run by Russian Immigrant Dimitri Petrov.” He signaled Hana to pull up the website. “Many of the girls have been identified as missing in both the US and around Europe…” Jess froze as his eyes locked on one of the girls.

“Y/N…” Clinton whispered as he also locked onto her posting.

Y/N was laying on her back, hair dyed blonde. Her eyes were dull like life had been drained from them. She was in a matching pair of red and white lingerie with white fishnet stockings. There were bruises on her neck, arms, and inner thighs. 

“What the fuck did they do to her?” Kenny stated, anger evident in his voice. 

Hana clicked on the profile. “They say her name is Alyona. She is a ‘submissive and experienced’ lover.” She gagged at the end, as the team turned to look at Clinton. 

His face was unreadable. “I told you.” was all he said as he stormed out of the room.

Y/N’s POV

She looked around the bare room that Dimitri had shoved her into, trying to figure a way out. She had been traded to Dimitri by the man that kidnapped her, who then moved her to America--not realizing that this was her home turf. She observed him as he moved around the warehouse that he turned into a brothel, noticing that he would leave doors open as he rotated girls in and out of the ‘business’ bedrooms. 

Dimitri had a schedule for each girl, like this was some union job, and would rotate out the women after their shift. Y/N, however, was the only girl that he didn’t do that with. He would send in John after John, only giving her small intervals of time to recoup between dates. The only other thing he did different from the other girls was that he didn’t drug her. The man that sold her to him had mentioned that she was a submissive bitch and that he recommends not ‘damaging good goods’ with drugs. 

Dimitri seemed to idolize the man that kidnapped her, so he listened to him about the drugs. Dimitri uses violence to keep her in line, especially when she acts out around the other girls. He would use her as an example to keep the other girls in line, which she would gladly continue to do if it meant she could protect the other girls. 

The only time that Y/N gets to spend time with the other girls is when they shower, as Dimitri forces them to shower together in a prison-like shower area. She will check on them as they pass along the cheap hygiene products, which makes them consider her a guardian angel. There have been multiple times where he has come in to find her holding one of the other girls, which makes him rip the other girl out of her arms and back hand her. 

“Are you ready for your next customer, Alyona? Heard he’s a dark one.” Dimitri stood over her with a dark grin. 

She internally sighed, not wanting to show her true emotions. “Yes, master.” She replied meekly. She moved to be sitting on the edge of the bed with her knees together but feet apart. 

He leaned out the doorway to signal for the customer to come. “You may enter, Sir. Your entertainment for the evening is ready.”

Y/N had to hold back a gasp as Clinton Skye walked through the door. “Good evening, sir. Thank you for accepting me as your entertainment.” She recited, just as she had been instructed. 

Clinton nodded, trying to school his face. “She’ll do just fine.”

Dimitri nodded, shutting the door as he walked out of the room. Clinton and Y/N stared at each other, not knowing what to say to each other. After a moment, Y/N launched herself into his arms. She sobbed into his arms as he held her tightly to his chest.

He let her bury herself into his chest. “Shhh. I got you, love.” He whispered into her hair. 

She pulled away to look at him. “I messed up, Clinton. I lied to you about my past and my relationship with the agency.  I took a mission that I knew was going to go wrong.”

“Don’t think about it now. We’ve got to focus on getting you and other girls out of here.”  He whispered darkly, shooting the door a hard look. “We’ve got a team surrounding the building and snipers on the surrounding buildings.”

Y/N took a deep breath, hardening herself. “You are right.” She brushed the tears away, “did you bring in any weapons?” 

“Y/N, I don’t want you to get involved. You’ve been through enough, let me take care of you.” He looked at her with big eyes, wanting her to listen to him.

She sighed, knowing that she was not in any shape to take down these criminals. “Okay, we will do it your way.” 

Clinton kissed her forehead. “It’s a go!” he whispered into his mic. 

Clinton made sure to put himself between Y/N and the door. He knew that Dimitri was going to try and come after Y/N, having heard some henchman talking about how she was going to be their golden goose. He promised himself, after seeing her picture on that website, that would protect her with his last breath. He also promised not to tell her, because she would lecture him about how she can protect herself. 

Within moments of the team storming the castle, Dimitri was throwing open the door- half expecting them to be in the middle of having sex. He froze as Clinton aimed his gun at his forehead. “Freeze.” 

“You’re a cop!” He yelled, charging at them.

Clinton fired his weapon, only after aiming for Dimitri’s knee. Dimitri fell forward with a scream. “I told you to freeze.” 

Kenny came in shortly after the gunshot, gun raised and ready. “Clinton, you guys okay?”

Clinton nodded, “Yeah, the idiot moved when I told him to freeze. I’m going to let you cuff him, while I take Y/N to the ambulance.”

Dimitri looked up, confused on who Y/N was. “Whose Y/N?”

She finally stepped from behind Clinton. “Me. My name is not Alyona.” She walked forward, trying not to show that she was scared. “You are not only going to be charged for crimes at a national level, but an international level also.”

Dimitri smeared at her, laughing under his breath. “You went from cop to whore. What an upgrade.”

Without thinking, Y/N slugged him. Clinton and Kenny jumped into action, and pulled them apart. “At least I won’t be someone’s bitch in prison.”

Clinton pulled her out of the room, not wanting to subject her to that creeps presents. “Come on, let’s get you to the hospital.”

Y/N just nodded, becoming increasingly more hollow the farther away they got from her room.

... At the hospital…

Y/N’s POV

Y/N numbly as the SANE nurses poked, prodded, and took photos of her. She didn’t make a sound, no matter how much they made her uncomfortable. They hadn’t allowed Clinton into the exam room as they weren’t married. When they asked her to lay on the table, Y/N closed her eyes tightly-- trying to not picture the numerous men that had taken advantage of her. 

“This may feel a little bit uncomfortable, but we need to do a pelvic exam.” The nurse said, wanting to keep her clued into everything that was going on.

“I know.” She whispered, laying back and spreading her legs.

Everything goes black for the remainder of the exam, not that Y/N needed to pay too much attention. When she opened her eyes, Clinton was standing next to her-- talking with a doctor. 

“... she is going to need a lot of therapy and patience. We are going to prescribe anti-depressant, anti-anxiety, and sleeping medications as she is going to have some trauma from what she experienced.” The doctor explained, not even bothering to look at her.

“You know, if you are going to talk about me, you better man up and look at me.” Y/N stated, hoarsely. “I will not be treated like I am less than human, because I am a sexual assault victim.”

Clinton squeezed her hand, wanting to bring her comfort. “Y/N, he is just trying to help you heal.”

She rolled her eyes, reverting back to silence. The doctor shared a look with Clinton, before stepping out of the room. “I know that you’ve been through a lot, but you don’t need to be snippy with the doctor.”

She glared at him. “He was acting cold, not caring about my feelings. I have feelings, Clinton. I am not just some piece of meat.” She cried.

Clinton pulled her into his arms. “I know, sweetie.” He rubbed her head. “You’ve been through something horrific, it is going to take some time to properly heal.”

She looked up at him with big eyes. “I don’t want to do this alone.” She whimpered.

“You won’t be alone, love. I promise.” 

A/N: There will not be a part two. I don’t feel comfortable writing a 2nd part.

[allthingshetalia]

the rusger poly trio was adorable! maybe we could get ludwig and ivan becoming a little protective/ jealous of their s/o?

You waited impatiently for your professor to finish his lecture. He seemed to move as slow as the time as he explained the causes and effects of the fall of the Roman Empire. Having been in school for almost all your life you were hearing all of this information for the millionth time, the only difference being your professor using big words.

“You will work in partners! I know that’s something we usually don’t do but there is a lot to cover.” His voice drilled into your ear and you cringed, slouching forward in your seat slightly. “I think it will benefit you all greatly!” He looked around the room like we would all be excited.

A small gap on your shoulder, caused you to turn in your seat.

“Wanna be partners?” Adam asked. He was a good guy. You two went to high school together and you even had a small crush on him freshman year. You realized that you had no friends in the large class and decided he was better than nothing. You quickly nodded your head.

“That would be nice.” You smiled politely. You turned back in your seat just as your professor was wrapping up.

“How about we work on it at my dorm?” Adam asked. The thought of that made you a little uncomfortable.

“How about we go to my apartment?.” You didn’t bother to mention that it was your boyfriend’s and that boyfriend would be plural. People were judgy and the last thing you wanted was to be labeled a slut or something. His smile faltered a little bit but he nodded his head.

“Sounds great!” He threw his bookbag over his shoulder. “I have football practice tomorrow so we have to get a majority of it done today.” He said as both of you walked down the halls.

“I’m not afraid of putting in some extra time.” You jokes, nudging him with your elbow. You two walked and chattered ever so often. You finally made your way to the apartment and you quickly pressed a button to be buzzed up. The front door of the building quickly opened, as both Ivan and Ludwig knew you would be getting home very soon.

As soon as you opened the door Ivan was the first one to greet you. You quickly shot him a look and he stopped his plans of embracing you, confused, until he saw an unfamiliar mop of blonde hair behind you.

“Ivan this is Adam.” You smiled. “Adam this is Ivan.” Hearing you introduce someone Ludwig quickly darted out of his office to analyze. The dogs rushed to the door to greet you, but Berlitz growled lowly in his throat. You shushed him and he sat down and rested against Ludwig. “And this is Ludwig. Ludwig This is Adam.” You stepped out of the doorway so they could see him. Adam gulped as he saw the two unreasonable large men.

“So which one of you is the boyfriend?” Adam chuckled nervously.

“Yes.” You responded, not giving either of them a chance to speak up. Ivan held back a chuckle, as he stepped out of the entryway, pushing Ludwig along with him. You walked into the large apartment and took your backpack off sitting down on the couch.

“I’m sorry, which one?” Adam inquired. You ingnored him and motioned for him to sit next to you.

“We need to work on a project for history.” You smiled at the two large blondes who were still continuing their inspection.

“Rome?” Ludwig asked, somehow always up to date on your school work. You nodded your head and took out your history binder. “If you need help ask us.” He pressed. He nodded his head and both him and Ivan went back into Ludwigs office. They kept the door open so they would have a clear view of you.

“Okay so I was thinking I could do foreign invaders and you can do expansion.” You smiled, looking over at Adam. His caramel eyes were trained on the dogs who were staring at him intensely. “They’re harmless, but they are protective.” You assured. Your fingers went out and scratched the back of Asters ear.

He sighed in relief and nodded his head in agreement. “Sound good.”

<time skip>

It had been about 2 hours and you were already over this project. You were hungry and you swore you caught glimpses of Ivan and Ludwig cuddling on the couch in Luddys office. From time to time one of their head would peak out the door or they would walk past you to the kitchen watching you closely.

“This is so tedious and boring.” You groaned, falling back against the back board of the couch. You wanted nothing more than to be in the middle of a cuddle fest with your boyfriends. Adam nodded his head in agreement, his hand rubbing at his eyes. “I’m gonna get a snack. You want anything? More water?” You asked, stretching. Adam watched as your shirt rode up a little.

“I am a little hungry.” He said hesitantly. You shot him a smile and pranced to the kitchen grabbing some granola bars and fruit snacks.

“You’re aren’t allergic to nuts right?” You asked, handing him some food. He shook his head and thanked you before digging into the granola bar. “You’ve gotten a lot done so far!” You encouraged looking at all the slides he had done in the presentation. “I really hope he isn’t going to make us present these!” You shuddered.

“That would be the worst, wouldn’t it? Having to listen to people talk about the same thing over and over.” You both laughed lightly. “But you’re pretty so I’m sure you could hold people attention.” He said in a quieter tone. It wasn’t quiet enough considering you saw Ludwigs head shot out of the doorway. Adam didn’t seem to notice.

“That’s very sweet. But I don’t think anyone is attractive enough to hold anyone’s attention about this.” You giggled. You sent Ludwig a soft smile, that went unnoticed by Adam.

“Well you’re close.” Adam whispered, brushing a piece of hair out of your eye. His fingers lingered on your cheek before Berlitz barked loudly causing both of you to jump. The large German Shepard bared his sharp teeth.

“Berlie.” You hushed, using his nickname. He stopped showing his teeth but hopped in on the couch resting himself between you and Adam.

“Ummm.” Adam stuttered nervously backing away form the dog. “I thought you said the dogs were nice!” He raised his voice at you. You were about to respond when Ludwigs voice boomed through the apartment.

“As long as you don’t touch Y/N!” You heard Ivan gasp and he quickly appeared in the doorway right behind Ludwig.

“I didn’t!” Adam assured. You gave him a ‘wtf’ look before groaning.

“I think it would be best if you left.” Ivan stated. Ludwig nodded his head in agreement, both of them glaring daggers at the man.

“What about our project?” Adam whispered, turning to you.

“We both of access to the google slide, we can work on it together but separately.” You offered him a small gentle smile. He quickly nodded his head and collected his things.

“Good Boy!” Ludwig praised, digging treats out of the kitchen cabinet and throwing them to Berlitz who caught them.

“I feel bad! He was probably so scared!” You sighed. You tiredly held your arms up and were quickly scooped up in Ivan’s arms. You nuzzeled your way into his shoulder and wrapped your legs around his waist, vaguely aware as he carried you to the bedroom.

“Good he should have been scared. Who does he think he is? Coming here and touching you! Even after you told him you had a boyfriend.” Ludwig spat. They both knew you only told a select few people you were in a poly relationship. It didn’t bother either of them because you didn’t try to hide them, you just didn’t talk about it. Ivan flopped down on the bed his back sinking into the mattress as you were resting on his chest. Ludwig joined both of you and moved so he was laying on his side, his head resting on Ivan shoulder and his forehead pressed against yours.

“I know, but I still feel bad. It would be scary having dogs bark at you.” You yawned. “He’s probably never going to talk to me again.” You mused.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Ivan smirked. You rolled your eyes and Ludwig hummed agreement.

“And you two were watching us almost the whole time!”

“Well Ja! What do you expect us to just go about our day like there isn’t some strange boy in our livingroom?” Ludwig questioned.

“With our girlfriend.” Ivan added. “I don’t trust anyone with you, little one. I mean he was obviously scared of me and Lud when he walked in but he still chose to press his luck with you.” Ivan hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re Right.” You mumbled, feeling your eyelids grow heavier by the minute.

“Take a nap. You can finish your project later.” Ludwig smiled watching as you drifted in and out of consciousness.

“Learning is Hard.” You mumbled just before you drifted off to sleep. Both of the men chuckled and held you tighter.

[eerythingisshaka]

Check Up

[Doctor!Erik “Killmonger” Stevens x Reader]

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: A light filth

A/N:  I was in the Vagina Monologues at my college and there’s one skit/story about a vagina workshop that inspired this one.  Enjoy

Your leg bounces up and down anxiously as you sit waiting for your name to be called.  You made sure to arrive extra early to account for a crowd or forms to fill out asking all the standard, invasive questions that any health facility is required to know.  This visit was particularly nerve wrecking considering your friend’s referral to come.  

One night during a girls hangout, wine and tea was spilled while discussing your personal lives.  Your one friend from high school griped about how yet another Tinder date didn’t live up to their profile and couldn’t hold his own in the bedroom later to add insult to injury.  Your other friend from college  was a little more mum about her escapades and turned out it was for a reason you weren’t expecting.

“We decided to open up our marriage.”  She says.  

You both gasp involuntarily before bargaining for more information.

“Are you guys not happy?  Whose idea was it?  It’s only been three years!”  You exclaim.

She sniffs her wine glass while taking a deep breath.  “All valid questions and comments  but it was my idea.  In a small way, I’ve always been polyamorous.”

“I thought you were just a cheater but…”  Your high school friend mutters.

“Get outta here!  Those were misunderstandings of love.  I enjoy the company of every partner I come across but I haven’t found the one that could be my anchor as I continue to love freely.”

“So he is really ok with this?  With other men?”  You ask as slow as possible to get your point across.

“Yup!  Luckily he is not gross to think one sex is ok over another.  It’s all the same whether I liked men or women but my heart is his always.  And honestly, it’s been hot ever since we just talked about it.  Like we just got a jump start!”  

“Hell, I need a jump start.  I wish I could make an appointment to my vagina workshop but I ain’t had the time.”

“The hell is that?”  You whip around to your high school friend intrigued.

“It’s got some official title, but at the clinic on Grand, they have some workshop that teaches you how your vagina works and the BEST thing of all, how to achieve orgasm.  Now when I went there some lady just told me where to find and touch and how to relax but I heard some big fella up there now is helping out and chile, if he was there when I went, my next stop woulda been the OB!”

Your college friend fans herself.  “So wait wait wait.  A fine man doctor teaching me how my pussy works?  Why haven’t you told us before?!”

“I said he wasn’t there when I was!  Plus this was before I was told you married with an asterisk.  Emphasis on the risk.”

“On Grand you say?”  You pull out your phone to Google.

“Mhm, that’s right.  Cuz if anybody needs it, it’s you.  How long has it been since you even went out with somebody?  I have tried to set you up, make a dating profile for you, wingwoman a guy at the bar, with no results!”

You shrug.  “Sounds like your problem.  But ummmm listen.  I do wanna check this out, but no way am I letting a stranger touch me like that.  I just want pointers-”

“And a story to tell us afterwards, ok?!”  College friend cackles along with high school friend.  You roll your eyes looking over the website, praying they take your insurance.  No mention of a fine ass doctor but hopefully fate worked in your favor.

Which brings you to where you are today: in a lobby with about 4-5 women looking at their phones or a magazine preparing for their treatments.  

“Come on back!”  The joyful nurse says, holding the door open for you.  You snap back to reality as the white walls are almost blinding against the lighting as you are led to a room with a 4 above the door.

“You can have a seat while I get you settled.”  

You sit on the examination table as she signs on to her computer and asks you general questions.  What brings you here?  When was your last cycle?  Have you had issues with this?  Pain during that?

“I’m really just here for informational purposes more than anything.  I would like to know more about myself but I haven’t had problems.”

“Ok.  And when was your last sexual experience?”  She asks as she types.

“Including myself or…”  You ask.

“Not including yourself.”  She says with a reassuring smile.  

You think and start to feel hot with embarrassment.  “It’s definitely been over a year…”  Or five more like it.

“Ok, that’s fine.  And have you had issues achieving orgasm with a partner or by yourself?”

You mull it over.  “Not...necessarily.  It has been a while since I could lately, but I have been busy with work too, so…” 

“Ok, that is up to you to bring it up with Doctor Stevens when he sees you.  But that is the end of my questions so at this time we have a gown over there if you would like to disrobe.  We offer an examination or a self examination if you so choose.  Unless you request otherwise, it will be mainly superficial and informational so don’t expect a pelvic exam or anything like that, ok?”

You nod, thanking her as she steps out, closing the door behind her.  The room felt more cold and quiet now that you are alone, but you waste no time in getting undressed.  Your worst nightmare is to take your time and accidentally be walked in on.  

The gown is clean but lacks in softness, plus your ass was hanging out  no matter how tight you tied the strings around you.  The paper separating your skin from the exam seat crinkles loudly as you fidget, looking over the posters of the female reproductive system and molds of various vaginas.

One catches your eye that is see through, showing the depth of the canal.  You can’t help but get your phone out and take a picture.  You text it to the group chat and start to search for a good meme reaction when a rapid knock startles you.

“Good afternoon, Ms.- OH!”  

The deep voice behind you makes you drop your phone and it is not until you bend over to pick it up that you realize your ass is not covered in that gown.  You spin around, backing up to the wall to pick it up.

“Sorry!  I didn’t mean to barge in like that.”  He says, face covered by a clipboard.

You put your phone in your bag and tiptoe back onto the table, cursing yourself out for embarrassing yourself.

“It’s fine, really it was all me.  I shoulda stayed my ass seated.”

He pulls down the clipboard, giving a meek smile.  “Frankly, it’s not the first time it happened.  Shame on me.”  

You feel your breath leave your body a split second when you finally see the man that got your friends so ready to come back.  He did not look like the type to even be interested in medical school, but you thank God prejudices are not facts.  He was the most beautiful doctor you had ever been seen by and so modern looking, with his short locs bound in a mini ponytail to the back of his head, and the sides shaved.  His eyes were so youthful they made you feel silly to stare and despite his small smile, his dimples announced themselves proudly.

“Well, isn’t it, ‘fool me twice, shame on you?’”  You respond, pulling your gown down and sitting up straighter.

This made him smile wider, and you thanked God generously.  “I never blame a patient.  It might be a HIPAA thing, but I might be making that up too.”

He pulls up a stool and sits down, checking over the notes on the clipboard.  “Now, as I started to say...what brings you in?”

Your mouth began to feel dry.  This was easier to discuss before, but you really don’t want to go deep into your personal life with him now.  “I just...uh, wanted information on the body.  You know, the female parts and what I may not know.”

He nods, looking back to you.  “It says you have had trouble achieving orgasm lately?”

“WOW!  I did not-”

“It’s ok!”  he says, graciously interrupting.  “That’s what a lot of people are here for.  You aren’t alone.”

You cover your face.  “This is embarrassing, why did I even come here.”

“Look, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.  I won’t ask you or bring up anything you don’t want to discuss.  But I am here to help, so let’s make the most of our time here.”

You look at him again, seeing the sincerity on his face.  A face like his can’t be completely trusted around any hot blooded woman but he is a doctor.

“Let’s start from the basics.”  Dr. Stevens pulls one of the example molds from the counter and places it in front of him, facing you.  

“Now a lot of people call all of this the vagina, but in actuality it is called the vulva.  That includes the labia minora, labia majora, urethra and clitoris.  Only when discussing your vaginal opening and inward, is it actually the vagina.”

“Ohhh, really?”  You ask, leaning in for a closer look.  He nods, smiling at your perceived interest.  “Now where is the urethra on here…”

He points to a tiny hole that you couldn’t have found with the CIA on your side.  

“I figured it was somewhere there, but you know I didn’t know there were three holes until an episode of Oprah told me when I was a teenager?”

“I have heard that before.  It’s unfortunate how many women don’t know about their own bodies when they own them, right?  But curriculums aren’t set up to teach it without thinking they are sexualizing things to kids.”

“But it’s not!  It’s their bodies, they have those things so they should know!”

He raises a hand up to you and you smack it without thinking.  The loud clap between you both sends a shock beneath you.  The doctor’s charm was bringing you out of your shell little by little.

“Right.  The best way of learning is demonstrative.  They gotta see what you’re talking about to get it.  Now I’m going to bring back what we spoke about earlier…”  He points to a higher area of the vulva.  “On here, the clitoris is here.  It’s fairly easy to spot, it’s not hidden and that’s just to make it easier for a teacher to show.  But not everyone is like this.”

“I know where mine is, so that’s fine.” 

“However…”  

You roll your eyes.  “Sure, it’s like your little paper says.  I can’t always get what I want from it.”

Dr. Stevens nods understandingly.  “Ok, that’s common.  Now one offer we have is an examination.  I won’t have to do anything but observe.”  

He stands up to reach underneath the side of the exam chair you’re sitting on to pull out a mirror on an extendable arm.  “You would just view yourself here and if you have questions along the way, I’ll answer them.”

You puff your cheeks to get rid of nerves, sitting back slightly as the paper crinkles and crackles.  

“I’ve been examined before.  Not my first rodeo, so let's do this.”   

A part of you couldn’t help but feel curious about what he may have to say about your parts as you hike your gown up.  He pulls out two mini stirrups to rest your feet on as you spread your legs apart.  Dr. Stevens stands next to you, adjusting the mirror to get the best visual of your vulva for you.

“Huh.”  You say.

“What’s up?”   He asks.

“Mine looks nothing like the diagram.”  You take your hand to pull apart your lips some. 

“What do you notice is different?”  He asks.

“A lot,” you say with a tone of defeat.  Why does every vagina depict this pink flower with symmetrical lips that barely overflow and a ready clitoris that probably distracts if you had to ride a bike.

Dr. Stevens stands beside you, hands behind his back, peering politely from you to the mirror reflection.  “What specifically?”

You exhale deeply.  “Right out the gate, the color is nothing like the rappers be talking about.  Pink pussy this and that.  It looks kind of like if you had grape bubblicious and once the flavor is gone and you toss it?  Yeah….”  You pull your inner lips to the side with your middle and ring finger.  “And my urethra is there huh?”

He nods, adjusting the mirror for shared benefit.  “Exactly right in the middle.  It’s kind of small so not surprising that you wouldn’t notice.”

“Interesting.”  You feel a sense of discovery within you as you actually learn a thing or two from this exercise.  Looking back at the model vagina on the counter, you think of a new question.

“Ok, so the clitoris right?  Why is it so difficult for me to get to it?”

Dr. Stevens crosses his arms.  “Well, you might be affected by the clitoral hood.  It helps to protect it but can be bothersome during arousal.  So depending on what position you are in, it may take some maneuvering.  Try moving it back now; take two fingers on either side and pull back.”

You do as instructed, feeling a sensation hit your exposed skin until you see the little pearl looking button that must be it.  Your finger grazes it, making your legs jerk unexpectedly.

“Whoa, ok, haha.  That’s it.”  You laugh sheepishly, pulling your legs closer together.

He places a hand on your back encouragingly.  “That’s ok!  Honestly, it's best to make sure you also have feeling.  Don’t be shy to try.”

You open your knees again and gently feel around for your clitoris again.  You can tell you’re close but the feeling is not as intense.  Embarrassment starts to affect you as you notice your concentrated expression is not at all sexy and what woman doesn’t know where to stimulate themselves.

Dr. Stevens notices the trouble, stepping away from you to get a pair of gloves, latex popping against his skin.

“It looks like you are rubbing yourself through your clitoral hood, which can be fine but I think for what issue you’re having, you would want as much surface area pleasure as possible.  Now I could show you, but that’s up to you.”

Your body tenses up at the question he was asking.  Seeing as he has gloves on, you don’t suspect he meant to show you on the model vagina.  But that’s why you’re here, right?  To get help and also to be touched by a smart, handsome, kind gentleman that you never met in a backroom: just the normal human experience.

“Uh...well, it would certainly make it easier.  Sure.”  You say, moving your hand back to grip the exam seat as you sat like you were in the final stages of giving birth.  You repeat in your mind that he is a medical professional that means no harm and any gynecological exam gets awkward sometimes and he has also seen thousands, so yours won’t get him any more rattled than the next one.  

You watch as he nods to you, confirming he received your consent.  He rests one hand on your knee and the other reaches toward your now throbbing lips.  Time seems to move slow until he finally makes contact, giving you a jolt again.

“Sorry.  I know it’s different with a foreign hand but let me know if it’s uncomfortable.”  He says kindly.

You take a deep breath and drink in his comforting words.  “All good!  X marks the spot, right?”

You feel his fingers slide along your inner lips, giving them an occasional gentle pull that curls your toes.  “Now, your labia minora doesn’t look like the model because the model is the depiction of a white woman’s genitalia.  More often, Black people won’t have that high pink color that is praised as you said.  But it does not make you abnormal or less desirable.”

“No?’  You ask quietly, relaxing under his touch once again.  The medical terminology is a good distraction from what is happening, so you try concentrating on that instead of your growing arousal.  

He smirks, revealing those dimples that caught your eye again.  “Not at all.  So don’t listen to anything otherwise.  You look perfect.”  He looks at you as he says this, pulling and stroking at your lips slowly you can’t help the arousal building between you, breaking eye contact as soon as possible to study the mirror.  

But that only makes you hotter to see him touch you as you gasp out,  “Well that’s good news!”  

He looks back down at your vulva again.  “Now I am doing this one handed, which may not be comfortable when you attempt, but it’s easiest for me since my fingers are thick and nimble.”

“Hey, practice makes perfect...I mean, not like you have played with a lot of vagina before.  Not played but examined...which I guess if you’re good at it, you would have played with many vaginas then, right?”

Dr. Stevens gives you a confused look before breaking into a chuckle.  “Not ‘played’.  I don’t play with anything.  I work.”

 And I am glad you clocked in, you thought.

“But as I was saying, the clitoral hood can be pulled back like so…” 

You feel it before you can see it.  His thick fingers fan your lips out so much easier than your own hands, you gasp audibly before covering it with a cough.

“Uh huh, go on.”  You croak.

He appears to barely notice as he studies the reflection of your clit in the mirror, pressing his middle finger right on the peak.

“And that makes for a more accessible area in which you can arouse yourself, like so.”  

He slowly circles your clit over and over again, much longer than you expected for an examination.  Are you supposed to say stop, you’re unsure.  Can he sue you for cumming on his hand?  You feel your thighs beginning to buckle and attempt to close them but his grip on your knee was stronger than you noticed at first.  Once his middle finger plunged inside of you, there is no going back.  You can’t control the small mewling sounds you make as he touches you.

“You have a good amount of lubrication produced as well.”  He says matter of factly, spreading your wetness along your lips.  He bites down on his lower lip as he rubs your vulva.

“No shit!  I mean…”  You slip up, getting too comfortable but he pats your knee, flashing that winning smile.

“It’s ok, just remain relaxed, you’re almost done.  But yeah, long as you keep the hood pulled back like so and set a rhythm, you should have a pleasurable experience going forward.  If not, come back to me”

“I’ll cum alright,” you moan as your head falls back as you bring your hips forward, rocking against his hand for more friction.   This naughty spirit enveloped you.  If he ever said to stop, your train would’ve derailed, but he never did.  His accommodations to your reactions sent you further down a path to unrighteous glee.

He penetrates you with two fingers, while running this thumb along your clit in tandem with the strokes.  “Is that better?”  He asks, stroking you faster.

You nod, throwing caution to the wind as you grab hold of his wrist, writhing against his finger before your body decides it has had enough.  You felt like how chocolate tastes: lush, sweet, a jolt of energy with a smidge of guilt but unwilling to put it down.

Erik holds you close with his freehand.  “That’s good, ride it out and hold on to me.  I feel you tightening, you’re just about there, aren’t you?”

“Mhm!”  you dig your face into his chest, breathing erratically as your climax approaches.  It mattered that it was him doing it.  How you got so lucky was a question you weren’t willing to confront because it just felt so good, why even think.

“Let that pretty pussy sing, you got it.”  The release you feel wash over you makes you feel like world peace started and ended in your pussy and you screamed for joy.  You lean back on your elbows as he rests his hand still against your mound, your walls pulse in the afterglow.  

“That’s better, right?  Luckily I see you have a fully functioning muscle down there.”  He says before going to take off his gloves.

You shakily pull your gown down and begin to sit up.  “I hope so cuz if that is what sick feels like, I don’t wanna recover.”

He snickers at your comment, writing something down on some paper, tearing off a piece, folding it to give to you.

“Now, this is something in case arousal doesn’t always come to you easily.  That’s a prescription that can get the job done naturally and quickly.  Take that home with you and you can order it any time you feel it may be necessary.”

You nod, getting up to put it in your pocket.  “Thanks.  You know my friends recommended I come here and I can’t say I am upset.”

Erik holds his clipboard in front of him, holding out a hand to you.  “I’m glad you came.”

You shook it and as he left, you got dressed and drove home feeling lighter than air.  You started to call your friends about it but figured you might start at the pharmacy just to see what he prescribed.  If men can have a ‘get freaky’ pill, why not you.  You dug out the prescription from your pocket and your mouth dropped when you read it.

Erik 555-0123, use as recommended.

Part 2

Masterlist

Tag

@chaneajoyyy​

[storybookstalker]

12 and 24 from the Smothering Yandere starters for Bane please I beg of you💕💗💓💘💞

Ofc bb <3!

excuse the writing sksnkdnd it’s been a minute since I’ve let myself write any non-headcanon fiction

Also! I’m using google translate bc I’m a loser and can barely speak my own language, so if anything seems off I’m super sorry kdndkdnd if you see something that’s wrong feel free to correct me <3!

Warning! Yandere stuff and general violence

Your head’s pounding harder than it ever has in your entire life. The bag over your head and the general darkness of the room made the sick feeling somehow worse than it already was. The two (Three? After the first hit colors began to mush together) men who brought you here seemed to be having fun with your situation. They’d knocked you around a bit before harshly throwing you into some kind of van. You assumed you had blacked out for the first part, the first thing you remembered after getting throw around was being moved to another van. The spinning sick feeling kept you from smaller details. It had to have been at least a few hours in a few different cars. This final place was warm and the air was almost too dense to breath. It was the most uncomfortable you’d never been. Whoever had dropped you into this shitty chair did not care about getting you comfortable. You were clearly supposed to stay in one spot. When some pain dulled down you’d try to wiggle into a more comfortable situation. Leaning forward meant rope pulling on your arms but resting your head back meant straining your already aching neck. There were a few men in the room with you. You couldn’t understand what they were saying, but it was hard to decide if that was because of the pain or if they were speaking another language.

The group was busy snickering as one kicked your leg. A door suddenly opened to your left, pain blurst in your eyes as lights were turned on. The man abusing your poor leg immediately stopped as heavy footsteps entered the room. Your face twisted as the pounding inside your skull increased triple time. Despite the white burn that settled behind your eyes, you did your best to pay attention to what was happening around you. The men who’d seemed so immature before were all business now because of whoever had just walked in. You wondered if they were greeting this new person, but the lack of response confused your jumbled brain. The heavy presence was constrictive, the already solid air clogging up your throat. You barely registered how large the hand on your neck was, the dull jolt from the pressure forced a weak cry out. The hand immediately pulled away, only to take off the suffocating bag. The air lightened, and the bag’s removal made you realize that your hair was matted to your forehead. This new man circled you, breathing heavily like some kind of angry bull. Somehow hearing him made it harder to breath than it was in the bag. One of the men began to say something but the (much larger you’ve decided from his voice) man in front of you interrupted,

“Qué demonios estoy viendo?” He sounded more like an angry bear than a human man. Thinking about how badly this man could fuck you up if he was as big as he seemed made your throat dry up. What did he even want with some rando off the street of Gotham?

One of the guys nudged the man closed to you, mumbling something you didn’t catch. “Ah..” He cleared his throat, he’s probably as scared of this big man as you are. One of the men near the back spoke up when the first one didn’t answer fast enough, “¿No es este el que querías?” There was silence for a moment, and for a moment the room stopped spinning. The man was familiar, you realize. Where had you seen him? It clicked when he started laughing. It wasn’t a fun laugh either, it was more of a laugh that meant you were in trouble. A few of the henchmen chuckled, shuffling away. You couldn’t blame them, you would be as far from this man as possible too if you could move.

Bane. This man was Bane, you’d realized. Whatever hope you might have had dropped, and shattered on the ground beneath you. Bane was not so horrible, not Scarecrow or Joker, but he could easily do whatever he wanted should he want it. You might as well have been shoved under water. Chest tightening fear clawed it’s way into your throat. What the hell did you do to be in this situation?

Bane hummed, nodding thoughtfully at what the other man had said. “Ya ves, es solo eso..” he paused as if trying to figure out how to explain his thoughts to a child, “Estoy seguro de que te dije que no pongas una mano en lo que es claramente mío.”

His men seemed to try to defend themselves, but he interrupted, “and it seems to me, that you’ve laid more than your manos on her you malditos idiotas!” Bane hissed, back-handing one of his men hard enough to slam against the wall. He sneered something you didn’t catch, your head had suddenly felt like it was floating. You could have swore you were actually floating, but then it was all dark.

Pain was the next thing to flood your senses. Light beamed right into your eyes, forcing a groan pass your lips. You rolled over, trying to get up and away from the searing sunlight. A dull ache swarmed your body and quickly coaxed your body back into the softiness under you. A bed, you had been moved to some bedroom? Or perhaps it was just a fancy holding cell. The room was too bright to fully open your eyes, making it hard to tell. It was silent until a warm voice pounded inside your skull, “finally awake?” Was this Bane? It was hard to think with the onslaught of a headache that came with his voice. The bed dipped to your left and you tried to move only for your body to fight against it. A cold cloth was spread against your forehead, smoothing out your pain a small bit. This could not be the Bane, it didn’t make sense. Did he quit being a murderer in favor of being a nurse or something?

He laughed, making you wonder if you had accidentally said something outlo- “You are talking right now, amor tonto!” He interrupted. At least he found it amusing instead of beating you a hair within your life. “I would smack most for saying such a thing, You’re the only person I’d make an exception for. Count yourself lucky,” he continued through a snicker. You would laugh along with him, if only to try to appease the bear of a man, if you weren’t terrified out of your mind. The so-called monster softly patted your arm, telling you to relax. How could you ‘relax’? A man you thought was supposed to be serving a life sentence was sitting next to you and you’ve been kidnapped! Your throat scratched up your question, “what part of any of this is relaxing?”

Bane huffed in reply, “You were not supposed to be harmed in any way on your way to me.” He must have seen your confusion, because he continued on without reply, “I’d do anything for you, whether or not you ask me to. I know how stressful life has been for you” He gently reaches towards you, taking your cheek into his hand. “No more. I will protect you from life itself if I must.”

Ahh I was gonna do more but I thought it might be too long for a prompt, hopefully this was okay!

[a-smile-hides]

A WISH FOR FORGIVENESS (3/?) - U.R.

*Gif found on google*

Pairing: Ubbe x mermaid! reader

Sum: At last, after a couple of nights without any sign of Ubbe, you get a visit.

A/N: Get ready for a whole lot of backstory… I’m starting to doubt if this story is interesting to read at all. When I worked the idea out in my head it sounded pretty good, haha. But I am not giving up on it! (yet) I can always learn from making this story. Also, sorry for not really posting something this week. It suddenly became very hot where I live and it kind of took me by surprise… and of course I got sick because of it… wohoo (do not worry, this always happens to me) But now that I am somewhat better, I tried to write again…

PART 1 - PART 2

---

Ubbe had not visited you after your last encounter.

Every night, you followed the river to the place where you first met him. A beautiful lake in the heart of the forest. A place where you lost your precious diadem to a raven and got stuck under a branch while trying to get it back. Every night, you waited until he arrived. In the hope to then talk about the abrupt ending of your last conversation. And every night, you watched sadly how the night made place for the day, without seeing or hearing Ubbe. You ran your hand through your hair as you tried to look between the trees for him. The forest was unusually dark this night since the moon didn’t shine as brightly. This combined with the silence made the forest feel cold and a bit frightening.

Before you had met Ubbe, you had come to this spot many times. Resting, enjoying the peaceful environment… But then that raven swooped in and stole your diadem. Your frustration of losing your diadem had quickly made place for fear when Ubbe had stepped out from behind that old tree. But his gentle ways and good meaning had melted that fear away. He had been very careful in freeing you, acting as if you were made out of glass. And ever since, he has treated you as a friend, as an equal.

Had he not intervened, you would have lost your life. Because of that, you wanted to thank him by granting him one wish.

There were a couple of simple rules to follow. First, a wish was to be made in your presence and clearly announced when he wanted to make it. Secondly, wishing for more was not possible and lastly a wish must come out of the deepest of his desire. It wasn’t possible to just shout out some words without meaning them.

The rules were simple, but still made the young man frown. A wish was the most powerful kind of magic a merman or mermaid could perform. Capable of doing almost anything. Curing illnesses, changing one’s fate and even battling death. And aside from the rules, there was one other condition before one could make a wish. It wasn’t possible to just walk up to a mermaid or merman and demand a wish. It wasn’t always clear why a person was chosen to make a one. But when they were, the necklace you always wore, would warm up as a signal.

And there was a code under the merpeople to never ignore that signal.

And sometimes, you cursed that code, since it had led to so much grief and pain. In time, mankind had figured out that merpeople possessed powers. Many tales had started to roam the earth. There were stories that claimed a mermaid’s kiss would allow a man to breath under water or that a mermaid could change her tail into legs at free will. Some said that when you added a tear of a mermaid in your drink, you would live on forever. There were even tales that said mermen were sailors that were cursed and now doomed to be a mermaid’s slave. Others said that a merman helped mermaids lure sailors to their deaths. They were even some that fearfully insisted that a merman would later feast on their corpses. Growing stronger with each man they killed. While others claimed they only leaded the souls of people who died at sea to the other side and did them no harm.

There were many, many stories. But only few of them were actually true. Still the story about a mermaid’s wish intrigued them all. And since mankind seemed to have a love for wrath and ruling over others, plenty started looking for a way to get one. At first, they always bumped on the rule that a wish was only given to those who were chosen. But that didn’t last long. They worked their way around the system, changing a situation until it was in their favour. Resulting in pain, grief, and death. Many, many deaths…

To your surprise, Ubbe wasn’t like all those men. When Ubbe had saved you and put you back in the water, you had felt your necklace heat up. He had saved your life and, in that way, earned a wish. Thinking that it was best to inform him of this, in the hope he would spare your life because of your honesty, you had immediately told him about his right to make a wish. But Ubbe had refused the wish at first, the shock from holding a mermaid still hadn’t left his body. But aside from that, he didn’t seem to know what kind of power he was presented with. He only accepted your offer after you had told him that it was the way your people showed their tribute.

Ubbe was thoughtful. Most men used their wish as soon as it was presented to them. You had heard about countless of men whose wishes turned against them. But Ubbe had simply sat down on the ground and started to think about what to say. You had let him, watching how he seemed to struggle with finding the right words. After some time, as the sun was already setting, the young man stood up, smiling down at you and saying: “I am not ready to make it yet, I haven’t found the right words.”

The smile that had formed on your lips betrayed how impressed you were by his words. The young man had chuckled and nodded his head at you. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, as the sun is at its lowest.” And before he had disappeared behind the trees, he looked over his shoulder at your shocked face. “You can call me Ubbe”

It was from that moment on that each day, as the sun slowly started to set, you would make your way to the small river, following it until you arrived at the lake. In the beginning you were hoping that Ubbe would make his wish as soon as possible. But as time went by and you slowly got to learn more about him, you found yourself hoping he wouldn’t find the right words to form his wish at all. So, your nightly talks would never come to an end.

Ubbe had shared countless of stories with you. About himself, his brothers, his mother and his father. And through them you slowly learned more about the man that sneaked out of his room each night to meet you in secret. And even though he had asked about your life many times, you had never answered his questions. Most of the times, it even marked the end of your conversation. But never before had it led to what happened between you two. Now, 8 nights ago.

You cursed yourself as your mind went back to that night. As you closed your eyes, you saw the frustrated look that was on his face as you, once again, refused to answer his question. The fear that he would make his wish soon and then leave you behind was slowly eating you up from the inside. It had been a long time since you had a real friend. And now it seemed like you were losing him.

Your head perked up as you heard a twig snap from beside you. Someone was approaching. You felt a person nearing. A man. You quickly swam to the rock at the side of the lake, the one you were leaning against when you and Ubbe first met, hiding yourself behind it. Carefully you peeked from behind it, trying to get a glimpse of the man that was slowly approaching the lake. The man roughly pushed away a branch of the old tree in front of him and walked into the clearing. He stepped forward, walking around the lake before coming to a halt next to a couple of flowers growing beside it.

You frowned at the sight of the man before you, who was shifting his weight from one foot to another, as if he was becoming impatient. The man was dressed in a big, old-looking cloak. Your eyes widened in realisation; it was the cloak Ubbe had worn the last time he had visited you! He must have been followed again…

Shaking of your uneasy feeling, you called out his name. The man before you lifted his head, which was still shielded by the cloak he wore. He nodded his head once.

With a relieved sigh, you pushed yourself away from the rock, swimming towards him. As you neared Ubbe, you watched amused as the young man struggled to sit down on the grass. His cloak seemed to get in the way, but he refused to take it off.  

“Put it off. It seems very uncomfortable…” You laughed out.

Ubbe shrugged his shoulders, adjusting the hood of his cloak so it didn’t fall off. His action made you frown. Was he still mad for what had happened all those nights ago?

You cleared your throat softly, watching how the water moved around as you waved your hand through it.

“I must apologize for my behaviour.” You said quietly, “I have come to realize that you are indeed to be trusted.”

Ubbe didn’t say anything. He didn’t move. He just sat there. Listening to your words. You swallowed the guilt down your throat.

“I want to make it up to you…” you said, looking down at the water. “I want to tell you my story.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You closed your eyes tightly; different thoughts were crossing your mind. Maybe he doesn’t care anymore? Maybe he just wants his wish and get it over with?

A small hum made an end to your racing thoughts. You looked up at him. He still sat in the same position with his cloak wrapped around himself, but his head was now lifted higher as if he was ready to listen.

You nodded your head, pushing away your nerves. Slowly, you swam closer towards him. Placing your hands on the side of the lake, you pushed your body out of the water. Trying to find a comfortable position, you placed your hands a bit further away. Your breath got stuck in your throat as Ubbe visibly flinched. The action made you frown and look at the ground.

The soft clearing of his throat made you look up at him again. The hood of his cloak and the absence of the moonlight made it hard to make out his face, but still you could see that he was smiling down at you. With one of your fingers you started tracing patterns in the dirt.

“I am from a place far away from here. Me and my people guarded this place called Sudara, an island in the middle of the ocean, known for its treasures given by nature. There are different clans of merpeople. And each of them was given the task of protecting an island. This task was given by the ancient ones, those that roamed the earth long before any of us did.” A small frown appeared on your face. “All was well. We lived in peace and harmony, of course we had our fights too, but they wouldn’t stand in the way of our task. Until a couple of sailors appeared and destroyed that all.”

A small line of tears had formed in your eyes as you thought back about that moment. “As I explained to you before, a mermaid’s wish is very strong and something that even us merpeople don’t know every bit about. But that didn’t hold them back… Their only goal was to use us to get closer to their biggest dreams.”

***

The arrival of an unknown ship left everyone filled with questions. It wasn’t often one entered your waters. Sudara was a place shielded from the knowledge of mankind. Every last one of your people had heard the stories of fellow merpeople telling about men arriving in their waters with large and strong ships. Each time they paid a visit, they took mermaids and mermen with them. This all in the hope of getting to use their powers for their own ‘good’. So, with that knowledge, everyone did their best to keep Sudara a secret.

The panic that broke out once everyone had learned about that unknown ship had quickly gone away again, when it simply sailed pass the island. It almost looked as if the people on it hadn’t noticed the island at all. And even though their short visit left many with an uneasy feeling, not much thought was given to it. The spirits were lifted again, and laughs were shared about the seemingly unnecessary panic.

But those laughs quickly died.

Only a few days later, as the night had fallen over Sudara and everyone was asleep, the ship had returned. This time in the company of two much larger ones. The two new ships looked threatening: large masts carried big sails, loads of canons were lined up next to each other. On those ships, men were shouting, angrily pointing their weapons at the sky.

You had never seen so much blood in your life. Never before had you heard so much agony.

Women were crying, holding their children close to them as they tried to swim their way to safety. Others were shouting at the top of their lungs, trying their best to command those that could fight to victory. But it seemed as if the ancient ones, those that had gifted you this island and gave you the task of protecting it, had abandoned you. The ships had strategically placed themselves around the island, surrounded it. Each ship was connected to another with large nets, making it impossible to flee towards the sea. The nets caught each mermaid or merman that tried to escape, making it easy for those men on board to grab whichever they needed.

“My daughter!” you heard a voice gasp out, making your head turn towards the sound. The voice belonged to your father, who painfully gasped once he had made his way towards you. Your eyes searched for the source of his discomfort. Eventually they landed on the large wound he had on his shoulder. Tears build up in your eyes as he softly stroked your hair, brushing with his thumb over the pearls of your diadem. “Gather as much people as you can. Flee tow-AH!” You watched horrified as your father gasped loudly, his teary eyes looking at you while his hand retracted, the arrow that had landed in his back slowly killing the light in his eyes. He swallowed before nodding his head towards the island, pushing you away. You turned away from your father, hastily looking around for those that you could lead towards the island in the hope to find shelter there from the horror around you.

***

You closed your eyes tightly, sniffing a bit. “It was the last time I saw my father. I had lost sight of my mother during the chaos that spread when we finally took notice of the ships. I guess they are either dead or taken away by those men. And in that case, they suffered a fate worse than death.”

A small grunt of confusion made you look up at Ubbe, who still sat motionless beside you. During the whole story, the man hadn’t made a sound. He didn’t move. He just stared at you, listening.

“The merpeople that were taken by them, would be tortured until those men could benefit from their power. A tear, a wish, a touch, a kiss… Every myth was tested by those who captured one. The mermaids and mermen that didn’t give them what they wanted were either killed or left to die…” You paused, fighting back the tears. Your hand wandered off to the flowers that Ubbe sat next to, playing around with them. Until you suddenly pricked your finger on a thorn. Retracting your hand, you looked at the small wound on your finger, blood slowly ran out of it. Frowning, you placed your hand in the water, brushing your thumb over the small wound, not noticing how the man beside you lifted his head up in interest. As you washed away the blood, you felt the wound closing until it was fully healed. “I hope that you now understand why I kept a certain distance from you. I was afraid, Ubbe. Afraid you would be just like all those men. I was afraid you were going to torture me to access my magic…” you whispered out, your eyes still fixated on your finger.

Next to you, Ubbe finally moved. His hand found his way to your chin, where he used two of his fingers to slowly lift your head. His cold skin made a shiver go down your spine. It was nothing like the touch you had felt before.

A breathy laugh passed Ubbe’s lips, making you frown at him. Growing frustrated by his lack of compassion, you roughly pushed his hand away. But as you slowly lowered yourself back into the water, his hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you from leaving. Your eyes snapped towards him again, an angry look on your face. You opened your mouth to ask him to release you when another cold shiver went down your back. There were people approaching. Four – no… five people.

“Ubbe…” You whispered, “Let me go. There are people coming.”

His grip didn’t loosen.

“Ubbe” you hissed out, trying to pull your hand out of his grip.

“It is really uncomfortable that you keep on addressing me like that…”

Your trashing stopped as Ubbe spoke up for the first time since he had come to you. Only, it didn’t sound like Ubbe. The voice was much colder, the way the words left his mouth was completely different. There was no empathy in his words. No emotion.

Horrified, you watched how the man in front of you raised his hand, signalling to the men and women around him to come out of their hiding spots. Fear froze your body. It was as if a hand was wrapped around your throat and ropes where bound around your body, making it impossible to move. Tears were flowing over your cheeks; your sobs were now uncontrollable. As you looked back towards the man that still held an uncomfortable, strong grip on your wrist, your heart stopped as you now looked into the cold eyes of your captor, who had finally removed his hood.

“It’s time to make a trip, sweetheart.” 

[mimssides]

Life on Crow Avenue: Part 15

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___

The brothers looked at each other. Who would possibly visit them at this hour? Remus got up from the chair and walked towards the door and pressed the button on the intercom.

“Hello?” he said as Roman approached behind him to listen who had come for them.

“Salutations. It is Logan Fojtík. Excuse the disturbance,” the voice on the other end said with this unmistakably clear but dry tone.

Remus couldn’t help but smile while Roman frowned.

“No problem Tie Clip! What brings you here?” Remus asked happily.

There was a short rustling before there came the answer: “Well, Remus I wanted to make sure how you were doing and I do have something which might be of interest for you. Also-”

“I am here too. Good evening, Remus,” interrupted a second voice at which Roman yelped in panic.

Remus turned around and at once recognized the voice. With a wide grin and his eyes on Roman Remus said into the intercom: “Hey, hey Jazz Man! You here to check on my bro?”

When the confirming ‘yes’ came Roman spun around his own axis and disappeared in the bathroom, to probably freshen himself up. Remus only rolled his eyes and told them to come up. It was a good thing that Patton had already managed to get someone to fix their door in the morning, otherwise He would have had to let them in through the shop and that was just straight up inconvenient.

With not much else to do Remus opened the door and leaned against the door frame, watching how the two men climbed the stairs. Both looked up to him and Remus gave them a lazy smile and a wave. Janus immediately looked back down to focus on his steps while Logan waved back and promptly took two steps at once. Within moments Logan had come up and Remus let him enter while still holding onto the doorknob.

After a short while Janus had joined them on top of the staircase and Remus waved him inside with the words: “Sorry for not having an elevator or something. These stairs really must be the bane of you.”

Janus raised his eyebrows and huffed a little out of breath.

“Thanks for the worrying but at least you’ve got railing on which I can hold on. Other places are even worse. And I know why my and Virgil’s flat is ground floor,” Janus said and then looked around the room for a moment.

He could not find Roman and looked back up at Remus. The latter tilted his head to the side, his black unruly hair sticking out to all sides and making him look somewhat dispersing the vibes of a Shakespearean fool.

“Not to say that I dislike your presence, but I wanted to talk with Roman? Where exactly is he?”

Remus snorted and led the two into the living room as he said: “Aah, you know he’s a prideful guy, and didn’t want you to see him dishevelled.”

“Dishevelled?” Logan asked concerned.

With a grand gesture Remus pointed at his own face, little traces of barely dried tears and sniffling still very visible.

“Yeah. Dishevelled. Just like me Big Brain. Or whatever you wanna call what I am. But anyway, Ro’s here and he’ll come back any second now.”

And just as he said that Roman emerged from the bathroom and greeted both Logan and Janus with a welcoming smile. The false happy tone twisted the knot in Janus’s stomach and he had to force himself to not let his discomfort show.

“Hello you two! How nice of you to come for a visit!” Roman said.

Logan just pulled up his eyebrows while Janus readjusted his weight on his legs so he could overplay his worry.

“I assume you feel better and have had a talk with Remus?” Logan simply said unimpressed by Roman’s fake upbeat demeanour.

The smile dropped and Roman’s shoulders slumped. It looked almost a little like a child who had broken an expensive vase while playing. Logan sighed and then tried a milder approach: “I must have come off insensitive. I apologize. Let me rephrase my former question: How are you feeling? Was the afternoon off a good distraction?”

Roman gulped and looked over to Remus for a split second and then relaxed a little. He was pretty sure he could answer those questions. A little timid, quite unlike him, Roman looked down to his feet and took a little breath.

“It’s alright. I’m feeling okay. And we probably shouldn’t have opened in the first place today but the afternoon off helped.”

Logan was about to ask a little more specifically what Roman meant, when Roman looked up looking a lot more comfortable than before.

Quick Roman sidestepped his brother to get closer to Janus, without breaking eye contact with Logan and said to him: “Thank you a lot for just going with what I was asking today. I know it couldn’t have been easy without knowing what was actually going on.”

“It is quite alright, Roman. Remus was kind enough to elaborate the situation,” Logan answered.

“That’s what I feared. Anyway, you said you wanted to discuss something with him?”

Logan simply nodded and then witnessed a wordless conversation between the brothers consisting of a look, the ghost of a nod and a shrug. With a frown he wanted to ask what this had been about, when Roman cut him off before he even started.

“Cool, then I’ll leave you to it. Janus, would you like to come with me? I have something I’d like to show you,” Roman said taking Janus’s free hand and catching the latter completely off guard.

Almost flustered Janus answered: “I don’t mind coming with you? Where are we-”

“Downstairs. Let me guide you,” Roman said and walked with Janus’s hand still in his towards the door and the two were gone a moment later.

Perplexed Logan looked after them until he heard Remus exhale and looked up to him. The slim man crossed his arms in front of him and had a dopy grin on his face. With a slight motion of his chin towards the table he seemed to invite him to sit down with him. Wordlessly, Logan complied and walked up to Remus so they could sit down together. Just in front of the table Remus took a step in front of him and pulled out a chair for him to sit down.

“Do you want to drink something?” Remus asked while Logan sat down.

Logan asked for some water and just moments later Remus had come back with bottle of water and a glass for himself and Logan. He filled both glasses with water and sat down. Casually he took a sip and eyed Logan before setting his glass down and giving him a short smile.

“He noticed that you were uncomfortable. That’s why he almost fled downstairs with Jazz Daddy.”

Logan ought to be surprised that Remus had been able to read through his silence so well but was just stunned by the nickname Remus had just used for Janus.

“Jazz Daddy?” Logan repeated bedazzled and Remus laughed a little.

“I’m sure Janus would hate it, which is why I say it. But anyway,” Remus said and played with the glass in his hand, “what did you want to about with me?”

Logan blinked a little surprised but caught himself and fished a paper out of his as always present purse. It was neatly folded and he slid it over the table towards Remus who took and unfolded it immediately. Logan watched his eyes rush over the paper and saw how he began to frown.

“It’s a list of therapists which are highly recommended,” Logan explained when Remus said nothing.

Remus looked up and quirked an eyebrow up and asked suspiciously: “By which side?”

“By my therapist.”

Logan had thought about that moment since he had sent her the requested list of relatively close-by and good therapists in the late hours of yesterday. The moment when he would reveal this information, he had kept close to his heart to someone who was barely an acquaintance.

Strangely enough it made him not as nervous as he had feared. Not at all. Especially, since he saw the obvious recognition in Remus’s eyes. The florist did not take this information for granted. It would be safe with him.

So, Logan smiled and said further while pointing towards the paper: “Her number is on the bottom. She said it was fine if you would call her if you required further information.”

Remus nodded in a fazed way and after a few moments he asked: “Do some of them work with neurodivergent people too?”

“I did not ask for that specific information, so I sadly don’t know. But I am positive that some of them do, as my therapist often has neurodivergent people as patients. Why do you ask?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve got ADHD. I was never diagnosed but It think I fit the general profile; losing my threat while talking, jumping around in stories, forgetting things very quickly, leg bouncing and other stims and Roman has it too, just even worse. And I am pretty sure that a lot of my problems come from that too or are at least influenced by it… so. It would probably be best if I went to a therapist who could deal with that, right?”

“That is a very good thought,” Logan agreed and folded his hands on the table. “I can ask her if she could point such therapists out for me, if you want to.”

“No, it’s fine. I can google them myself. Let’s not make your therapist hate me before she even heard my voice.”

Logan shook his head but grinned as Remus looked over the list again. He seemed to be interested. He asked questions. Maybe, this truly was helping him.

“Do you want to know anything else?” Logan asked and Remus nodded.

“Actually, what - what do I have to look for in a therapist? And how do I apply for one?”

Logan’s smile grew a little wider and patiently he started to explain the general process and rules Remus should know about, while the latter listened closely to the others clear and soothing voice

___

Roman had Janus brought down into the store and led outside into the backyard. Well, that was what Janus first had thought when Roman had walked to the backside of the building but then this door in the back led into a greenhouse. A magnificent greenhouse.

Flower boxes with Roses, Amazon Lilies, African Violets, Chinese Hibiscus and Orchids were orderly lined up, vines grew around the wooden pillars in the corners and the soft warm light of fairy lights enlightened the glasshouse when Roman had pressed the light switch. Everything was bathed in a dim but comfortable light and Janus could only watch in awe as his eyes wandered through the little outdoor structure. In the nearest left corner stood a little black metal table with matching chairs and Roman had offered Janus his arm to lead him there. Janus took the offer and soon was sitting on one of the chairs in this almost magical greenhouse. He watched as Roman walked towards a box near the table, opened it and realized that it was a mini fridge, and took out two cans of beer.

Quietly, Roman set one beer in front of Janus and sat down on the edge of one of the flower boxes, opening the beer left in his hand.

“You don’t have to of course, but I think I need one. And they’re alcohol free,” Roman said and held his beer up as if to say cheers.

Janus opened his beer and lifted it just like Roman did with the dry comment: “Don’t fright over me. I can hold my liquor.”

“That’s good because I can’t,” Roman laughed and took a sip. “I get tipsy very easily and I forget stuff very quickly, so, if you would remind me to not take another one if I were to try and get one? I’m not very comfortable with myself when I’ve got too much alcohol in my system.”

Janus rose an eyebrow but nodded before taking the first sip out of his beer. It wasn’t his beverage of choice but he had had far worse.

“This garden is beautiful Roman,” Janus said after a few moments and he heard the pleasant sound from Roman chuckle a little.

“I know, right? That’s what sealed the deal, actually. Remus always wanted something like this and that’s why we came here.”

“I should be grateful for this greenhouse then.”

Roman nodded lightly and looked around for a few moments. Janus studied him. Studied the how exhausted he was and how much more relaxed he seemed nevertheless while sitting down here. While having some distance to the mess that his life was right now.

“So, what did he tell you?”

Janus blinked. Roman was grinning and looked down to his beer can. Janus frowned and caught the mildly worried look from Roman. Only then it clicked in his head and he understood what Roman had wanted from.

“What Remus has told us about the two of you?” Janus asked carefully.

Roman nodded.

Janus sighed and drove over the brim of his hat.

“Yesterday night he told us how you fled from your parents’ house. And about the accident.”

Roman was grinning back down to the floor and nodded a little.

“I’m not even surprised,” Roman said after a few moments still not looking up but the grin clearly transferring in his tone. “He really needed to get that out. Did he also tell the part where I miraculously woke up after three days and wanted to walk around?”

Janus said nothing for a few seconds and Roman looked up. He seemed to be oddly relaxed.

“He did,” Janus confirmed while placing on of his hands on his cane to distract himself a little from the tension. “He also praised how you sacrificed everything for him to help him get proper hearing aids and learn sign language.”

“Figures. He always loved that part of the story. Where I’m the hero and not the guy who crashed the car.”

“… You seem to be oddly unaffected?” Janus said after Roman’s matter-of-factly comment.

Roman simply shrugged, back at staring down to the ground and answered: “Well, I don’t remember most of it. Like any of it. Before the crash; gone. And after I was pretty sedated for quite a bit so it’s all fuzzy. I’m sure he mentioned that.”

Janus despised this. He hated that Roman talked about something like this as if it was nothing more than a mediocre school trip from third grade. He hated that he didn’t get the sense from Roman that he was lying. He wanted Roman to be lying, wanted him to say how bad this had hurt him. And yet he didn’t. He just seemed fine in the soft light in this greenhouse and something turned and twisted in Janus’s stomach.

“He did, indeed,” Janus said reluctantly after a few seconds.

“You know what he didn’t tell you?”

Roman’s shoe scratched over the floor as he asked the question.

“What?”

Roman took a moment to catch his breath and Janus focused on the rapid changes of his mimic. But he was not fast enough to catch what it had been about, as Roman soon began to speak.

“When I woke up after the crash. In this bed, connected to all those fussy tubes and machines. I was … at ease. For the first time in months I was at ease when I woke up. Because for months I woke up every morning scared to death that our father would find out. That today was the day where he would throw us out of the house or hurt us even worse than he already did. And in this very moment when I opened my eyes, I knew that Remus had gotten us here. That he had executed the plan I set up. That he got me out, called the ambulance or whatever, because I would have been dead had it not been for him. I just knew I would have. And I knew he had stopped them form letting our parents get us. I knew. And I was right. They never got us. We were free, for the first time in years and I was so relieved.”

Janus just stared at Roman. Stared how he took a sip out of his beer and then finally looked up to him. With teary eyes but a smile which could not be fake.

“That’s why he’s my hero.”

 Oh.

Just oh. And at once Janus understood where exactly he had seen that look before and made a note in the back of his mind to call and check on Latona one of these days.

Janus forced himself to smile a little and nodded at Roman. He understood. There was nothing for him to add, nothing to say more. Not now at least.

They sat there for a bit longer. The air was warm and the evening relatively quiet. Just like a summer Monday evening should be, they supposed. Janus let out a drawn-out breath and Roman watched him do so. They exchanged a grin.

“What else did Remus tell you? He said he told you stuff at today’s lunch?” Roman asked now in a rather suspicious tone.

Janus grinned. He knew how much elder siblings liked to embarrass the younger ones with stupid stories. For once he was not the victim of those tales though and as of now, he was quite happy with that.

With a smirk he retold the two tales of the museum trip and the fight Roman had gotten in and watched how Roman visibly cringed at all the details and eventually just buried his head in his hands. When Janus finished Roman let out a mockingly pained groan. Dramatically he threw his head back to which Janus could not help himself but laugh at.

Roman got up and flustered walked a few rounds around the flower boxes while mumbling quietly to himself.

“I can’t believe him!” Roman said after a while clearly not as mad as he wanted to be and turned to Janus. “Dares to tell me that I need to let go of the past and then tell such silly stories about me! Especially the tooth one! It’s terrible!”

“I wouldn’t say terrible,” Janus argued with a smirk, “more like amusing. At least in retrospect. I can understand that must have been terrifying the day it occurred.”

Roman nodded vehemently and gesticulated quite a bit before he sat down right where he stood on the cold floor criss-crossing his legs as soon as his bottom touched the floor.

“You have no idea!” Roman said and continued gesticulating agitatedly. “I was so sure I’d get expelled that day, which would have been a guarantee for me having to repeat this miserable school year. If it hadn’t been for Mamá who somehow managed to get me out of this mess I-”

Roman broke off. At once he looked terribly sad. Concerned Janus thought about standing up and getting to him, as Roman suddenly continued talking.

“I haven’t… I haven’t talked about my mother for so long…”

Janus waited. But nothing came. He stood up, let his cane lean against the table and walked the few steps towards Roman. He stretched out his hand for him. Roman looked up. He was perplexed. He had not seen him walking up to him.

“What is up with her? You can tell me.”

Roman hesitated for a moment. Then he took Janus’s hand. Just felt the warmth and the comfort in it. The little bit of trust he had been granted.

“Don’t tell Remus, but I miss her.”

Roman stood up and let Janus hold onto him as he led him back to the table.

“She wasn’t the best Mamá but she loved us. I know she did. She should have tried to speak up to our father, I know. But she was scared too. She was also a victim. I know it doesn’t excuse the abandonment. I get that. And she never came to look after us after we were gone. So, I know I shouldn’t be hoping anymore. I know. I just. I just…”

“You just miss her.”

They stood in front of the little table. Janus looked up to Roman, his eyes filled with understanding. And Roman felt himself relax. He let Janus sit down on the chair and sat down on the floor in front of him.

“Can I hold your hand?” Roman asked.

Janus smiled.

“Of course.”

And then Roman held his hand while sipping on his beer and eventually leaning his head against Janus’s good knee, while letting his thoughts run wild for a moment.

___

@varthandi

@sickeningly-deceitful

@sammy-is-obsessed / @exhaustedfander

@unoriginalgayboyalex

@alexisrealgay

@softie-sushi

@wolfs-feder

@just-a-neoclassical-painting

Tagged for this fic:

@frawkeye

@arodynamic-enby

@espepspes

@bullet-tothefeels

@fukindork

@shadeofadye

@magic-but-its-green

@croftersjam15