#there was this book with a big ‘2’ on it and I couldn’t find the other ones so I was like hey where’s the rest of these and he was like

[onpie]

Noodles and Tea’s work inspired me fr

[gghostwriter]

One Single Thread of Gold

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 2 Summary: The three times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the one time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes Trope: Fluff! Just fluff and team banter! w.c: 4.0k a/n: For some reason, my earlier post on this disappeared dunno why. But this is a very self indulgent fic as reader’s background is basically based on the industry I work in. I had a lot of fun writing the team banter and I hope you enjoy it too! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗

The first clue presented itself on a dull Wednesday night as the team, minus Hotch and Rossi, were leaving the bullpen after a full day of pushing papers. Penelope in all of her sunshine and colorful glory was buzzing about these accessories that she once spotted on a storefront window.

“I saw a pair of earrings and a matching necklace that would look so good with that top you bought the other day, JJ. You know, the blue one with those soft sleeves—they would look great with it. It’s tres boho chic.”

JJ smiled, opening her mouth to reply, but Spencer beat her to it.

“Did you know that boho chic was actually a response to political and social movements?”

“Wait, what?” Emily interjected.

He took her disbelief as a sign to continue on. “Yeah, yeah. There’s an article written about it in Vogue—softness and femininity historically appears in moments of political stress and war. Just like in the 70s with the hippie and anti-war movement that defined their style as a generation.”

They all piled into the elevator and turned to face the boy genius like he grew another head. For all they knew, this could be a clone and a very bad one at that. The Spencer Reid that they knew had absolutely no interest in the realms of fashion.

Penelope was the first to break the silence. “Vogue?”

“Kid, what gives? Just the other time, you didn’t know how many shoes a woman owns and now you’re some kind of expert?” Derek asked with both eyebrows raised.

“Did not knowing activate some kind of button that made you want to read about it?” Emily added on, feeling like she was in some kind of TV prank show.

“What?” Spencer licked his lips, nervous with all the attention on him. He felt like he was about to slip something up that he had been keeping to himself for a while now. A hidden precious gem that was you. “I—I like to read.” A believable excuse except his voice went up an octave, giving him away.

The three women shared a look.

“But you read academic textbooks and classic literature,” JJ stated.

Penelope added on. “Not fashion magazines.”

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I don’t discriminate when it comes to reading. If it’s interesting—” he shifted his weight one side to another, thinking that the ride down on the elevator seemed to be taking slower than usual. “—I’ll read it.”

Penelope narrowed her eyes. She was no profiler but she could smell a lie from a mile away way. That wasn’t the whole truth. Dr. Spencer Reid was hiding something.

“Okay, see you tomorrow!” he squeaked out as he ran out of the elevator once it hit the lobby.

She turned to the three profilers, stunned with the boy genius’ erratic behavior. “Huh, did anybody else get the feeling that Spencer was hiding something?”

“Maybe, but the kid does read a lot. Maybe he just ran out of books.” Morgan shrugged.

The other two profilers tilted their heads and slowly nodded in agreement. It wasn’t far off on something Spencer would do. He did once pick up a pamphlet in the airport to read as mentioned before to her by Derek, granted it was for a case but still, Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else.

So when she arrived home that very same night, she propped up her laptop and got to digging. Boy Genius was hiding something big and Little Miss Oracle of Quantico can find anything with her tech skills. She’ll get to the bottom of this mystery, once and for all.

———

Spencer was glad to be coming home to your presence. Having spied the lights still on from the outside of the apartment, he took the steps two at a time, excited to see his 2nd favorite person after his mother—you.

“Spence?” You called out, having heard the mahogany front door open. “Is that you, baby?”

“Hey, love. I missed you,” he deposited his satchel to the nearby sofa and ran to give you a hug.

You burrowed yourself into his arms. All the muscles in your body relaxing as you caught a whiff of his cedar wood perfume—the same scent you’ve gifted to him during the early stages of dating. “I missed you too. How was your day?”

“Better now with you,” his words coming out muffled as he refused to detach himself from the embrace. “Actually, I almost slipped up today.”

You extricated from his arms to give him an inquisitive look. The slight scrunch on your nose and raised brows made his heart flutter. How expressive, free, and trusting you were. It reminded him of your first encounter. How you teasingly asked him if he was a serial killer when he offered you a ride home in the pouring rain and how you easily accepted regardless.

“Yeah? Did any of them catch on?” you probed as you pulled him by his belt loops to the direction of the bedroom.

He laughed, finding your aggression cute. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Maybe we should schedule dinner with them sometime,” you coyly suggested as you slowly started to unravel his tie. “I mean, we’ve been together for over a year now and I have moved into your apartment, under the guise of watering your plants while you’re away. Which is a lie, by the way—”

“I have plants!” he protested. His hands divesting you out of his sweater, bringing to view his favorite silk set in deep purple that accentuated your skin and the blush on your cheeks.

“—that I brought over, Spence,” you quipped back. “But don’t worry, I won’t spill how the intelligent FBI agent fooled naive me into moving in with him.”

There was a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. “Love, I wouldn’t exactly call you naive—” his voice going an octave lower. “—not when you’re looking at me with those tempting eyes of yours.”

Giggling, you leaned in for a kiss, one that he quickly took over. His calloused dominant hand wrapped around the back of your neck, effectively caging you in while his other cradled your cheek—a stark contrast to the other. Kissing Spencer had always felt like a religious experience that you never want to part from.

Reluctantly pulling away, you caught glimpse of his need for you. His hazel eyes now dark as ink, nostrils slightly flared, teeth sinking into his lower lip, and his dominant hand dug into the fleshy nape of your neck. It made you feel desirable, like the goddess that he would call you when he’s on his knees tasting nectar from the source.

The discussion of inviting the team out for dinner was long forgotten. No other words were spoken as you pushed him on the bed—only the cries of his and your name and moans of ‘yes’ echoed well into the night.

***

The second clue was uncovered when Spencer walked into the cold windy bullpen with new black cardigan adorning his lithe body. It was non-descriptive to the untrained eye but for fashion enthusiast Penelope Garcia, she knew what those four white lines on the sleeve meant—luxury label and priced well above their pay grade.

She narrowed her eyes. The Spencer she knew wouldn’t dare spend his salary on anything besides limited first edition books. Something was truly up and she planned to get to the bottom of it as her initial online search turned up nothing.

“Reid, that’s a really nice sweater,” she complimented, throwing in her bait.

He smiled. The thought of who gave it to him warmed his heart. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks Garcia.”

Her sparkly pink kitten heels clacking on the floor as she came closer. “Can I see it?” she innocently asked.

The request threw Spencer off the loop but thought nothing of it as he shrugged and handed it to her—still warm from body temperature.

Her squeals caught the attention of the other profilers filling into the office.

“What is it, baby girl?” Morgan deposited his bag on the table and stationed himself beside her. “It’s Reid’s new sweater. Are you seeing something I’m not seeing?”

Garcia rolled her eyes. This was why females are considered more observant that their sex counterpart. Her chocolate thunder was a profiler but how could he not notice what she was deducing?

“Huh,” Emily surmised. “Based on the fibers, it’s definitely not polyester. Possibly a 100% wool, what do you think, JJ?”

“It says here on the tag—100% virgin wool,” she read out loud. “That makes it very expensive, right Garcia?”

The colorful tech analyst smiled. Her girls could never let her down. “Right you are, girlfriends! But it’s not only that, this—” pointing at the four stripes on the sleeve. “—this is a signature Thom Browne detail. Their prices go up to at least 600 dollars—” they all turned to Reid who seemed clearly agitated. “—now why does our boy wonder have a piece that could buy at most five cute heels?”

With his vast intellect, he couldn’t think of a way to weasel out of this impromptu interrogation. He couldn’t very well say that it was a gift now could he? If he did, that would lead to another hard hitting question ‘from who?’ He raked his hand through his curly hair, taking the same path as yours did just earlier as you gave him a kiss goodbye.

When you gifted him the cardigan from your last New York business trip, he really thought nothing of its material equivalence, besides feeling grateful and loved. It was proof that you paid attention to even the littlest details about him.

“Hey Spence, I got you something,” you looked up at him with sparkling eyes. The first thing you had done when you got home was run into his arms. A simple act that healed his aching heart from missing it’s other half.

You reached into your luggage, enthusiastically pulling out the black clothing wrapped in tissue paper like some magician pulling out a rabbit from a hat. “Here you go!”

“A new sweater!” He exclaimed.

You rocked on your heels, looking bashful as you explained the reasoning behind it. “I noticed you fidgeting when you wore the cardigan JJ gifted you last Christmas, the polyester fibers used on it must have been really itchy so I got you a new one—” your eyes widened at how your explanation could be taken the wrong way. “—not that her gift wasn’t great! No, it was very cute! It’s just—I want you to be comfortable and protected during your cases in cold states. Polyester is a good insulator of heat but wool is still the best.”

He loved how unabashed you rambled about your interests. That was one of the first things he piqued his notice. How you liked to share your knowledge about the fashion industry that you work for but never coming across as stuck up or snobby, you just genuinely wanted to educate anyone who had a wrong perception of the billion dollar commerce. Admittedly, he was one of them but hearing you rave about it’s nitty-gritty details and socio-economic movements changed his mind. It also helped that a beautiful and intelligent woman, such as yourself, was educating him.

He pulled you in for a kiss, stopping all the worries that ran through your head. “I love it. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing at all, baby. I like taking care of you. Just like how you take care of me,” you reasoned. “Plus I got it on sale courtesy of the magazine connections.”

A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. It was Penelope with an eyebrow raised at the subtle smile that graced his face while he replayed the moment in his head.

“Okay,” Morgan drawled. “What’s got you smiling, Pretty boy?”

“Nothing,” he squeaked out, turning to see Hotch make his way across the office. Spencer hurriedly collected his things and started to move even before their unit chief could call their attention.

“We have a case,” Hotch announced.

The remaining BAU members all looked at each other, silently communicating about Reid’s irregular demeanor, before piling into the conference room for another grueling scene of murder.

“He’s been acting weird,” Garcia rushed out. “Definitely hiding something. What do you think, Em?”

Emily nodded. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“A girl?” JJ guessed.

“Yes, must be a special one for him to keep secret for so long,” Garcia surmised. “Do you think he’ll hate it if I go further digging around to find out who she is?”

“Further?” Emily clarified.

JJ laughed. “Probably, let’s wait for him to volunteer the information. Okay, Garcia?”

She sighed, shoulders drooping, before nodding in agreement.

***

The third clue was quite literally handed to Penelope Garcia on the jet after a case when she accompanied the team.

“Cold Alaska is so not good for my skin,” she grumbled as she rummaged her bottomless bag for her favorite hand cream. “I love going with you all on trips rather than being stuck in my own tech cave but the weather wasn’t it.”

Morgan chuckled. “Aw c’mon baby girl, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy our time together?”

“You, my sculpted hunk, and the fireplace were the highlight,” Penelope turned to the other female profilers. “My beauties, do any of you have lotion? I think I lost mine.”

Before JJ or Emily could even utter a word, a tube made its way to her lap courtesy of her seat mate, Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Reid, since when do you carry lotion?” Emily inquired.

He shrugged. “Hand cream has it’s benefits besides from moisturizing the skin, it also provides an additional layer of protection. Depending on it’s properties, it can also repair and undo damage.”

The females all shared a look. This was another unexplainable behavior from their resident genius.

“We know that,” JJ stated. “We just thought you didn’t.”

His brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, besides from the fact that you’ve never shown interest about skincare before, isn’t it a stereotype for men not to know? Unless—” Emily slyly smiled and nodded at Garcia to continue.

“Unless you have a girlfriend that we don’t know about,” Garcia bounced on her seat.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Spencer’s eyes widened in alarm. He didn’t realize he was walking into a trap before it was too late. “What makes you say that?”

They laughed.

JJ started. “Besides from you suddenly being knowledgeable in fashion—“

“—or having a pricey sweater you’d never buy for yourself—” Emily added on.

“Or, or—“ Garcia reached out to touch his hand. Which made Spencer react with a high pitched call of her name. “—having a shea butter lotion with rough hands!” She waved the tube up in the air. “Plus, this is half empty. So either it’s not working which I doubt since this is a good brand or you keep this in your bag for a special someone to use!”

Derek chuckled. “Baby girl, you could be a profiler at this point.”

“Oh tell me something I don’t know,” she quipped back. “So Reid, want to tell us the truth?”

He sighed, finding no escape. “Yes, yes I have a girlfriend.”

The girls all shrieked with laughter and their own corresponding questions of who is she? How did you meet? How long has this been going on? What does she do for a living? Is she pretty? Oh I bet she is!

“Looks like that cat is out of the bag,” Rossi nonchalantly stated.

Four sets of eyes turned to look at one of the BAU founders. “Rossi, you knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Garcia gasped, a hand to her chest at the thought of betrayal.

He laughed. “I caught them on a dinner date once and our boy wonder over here—“ nodded in Reid’s direction. “—begged me not to out him yet, said he wanted to be the one to tell the team the news but that was like what, six months ago?”

“Six months ago?” Emily repeated.

“Wait, wait. Hotch, don’t tell me you also knew?” Morgan asked.

The unit chief smiled. “She was added to Reid’s emergency contact last February.”

“February? That’s almost a year ago!” JJ sputtered out.

The tech analyst turned to glare at the youngest member of the BAU. “Reid, you better start spilling all the details or so help me, I will stalk all your digital footprint when we land until I find out who she is, where she lives, and what her deepest darkest secret is.”

“What about hearing it all from her, instead?” He rubbed the back of his neck. The secrecy had gone on for so long and there was no time like the present to introduce his chosen family to his chosen partner—hopefully until the end of time. “She wants to treat you all out for dinner tonight.”

All four nodded vigorously as they watched him pull out his phone and send a quick text to which you readily replied and agreed to.

“My man,” Derek sighed. “Can’t believe you got a girlfriend without me being your wingman.”

“Answer me at least this, is she pretty and does she make you happy?” Garcia asked. No matter how nosey she may be, she only wanted the best for Spencer and if the recent lightness and smiles were all caused by his mystery girlfriend, she already approved.

“The prettiest,” Spencer gushed out. “She’s my own personal sunshine.”

The three girls melted into their seats. Their youngest was all grown up waxing prose over his lover.

“She makes you sappy too,” Derek teased.

***

[EXTRA - When the mystery was uncovered]

Spencer had never felt any more nervous that this moment as he, with the rest of the team minus Hotch and Rossi, wait for your arrival. He sat with his back to the restaurant entrance and his cardigan laying on the empty seat beside him as a reservation mark. His eyes had been going back and forth to his idle phone and to the conversation the team was having.

Morgan noted his state of distress and chuckled. “You okay there, lover boy? She’s still coming right, your mystery girlfriend?”

“Yeah, yeah. She said she was on her way 9 minutes and 24 seconds ago and based on the route and traffic, she should have been here 45 seconds earlier. Just worried that something might have happened.”

Penelope leaned in, picking on her bubblegum pink choice of drink as she did. “You know, if you just told me her name I could have tracked every movement by now and you wouldn’t be sitting here worrying.”

“What—no Garcia, I don’t want her tracked plus she didn’t want you to know everything about her even before meeting her,” his voice going up an octave in your defense.

She shrugged. “I’m just saying. I mean we don’t know a single thing about her—”

“We do know she exists and you’ve been together for almost a year now,” Emily interjected.

“Actually, it’s been more than year—one year and 124 days to be exact.”

“Buttercup, all I’m saying is we don’t even know how she looks—” Garcia gasped, having spotted a passerby on the window and what she was wearing. “Oh my gosh, that maroon coat is to die for and that textured leather bag—I wonder if I could track her down and ask where she got it.”

“Oh she’s pretty,” JJ noted.

Derek smirked. “Baby girl, tell me if you plan to ask her ‘cause I wouldn’t mind asking for her number.”

The tech analyst’s eyes further widened as she noted the attractive woman going inside the restaurant.

“You weren’t kidding about that coat, Garcia, it looks really nice,” JJ appraised.

Emily squinted her eyes, taking note of the garment in question. “It looks high quality, probably vintage and—is she going near us?”

“Oh gods, she is! Act natural, act natural!” Penelope chanted as she repeatedly slapped Derek’s arm.

The stranger stopped behind Spencer. “Hey handsome,” your melodic voice was a siren that called to his every being. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Penelope’s jaw dropped as she took in Derek’s flustered reaction.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, getting picked up in such a public setting was new even for him—the ladies man of the BAU.

You laughed. “Well, you too but I was more of talking to this lover of mine—“ you bent down, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek. “Hey, Spence.”

A series of gasps were heard all around the table.

The youngest stood up and turned to give you a soft kiss on the lips. “Hey, Y/N. I was starting to get worried.”

“I missed the train, sorry I forgot to send an update,” you explained as he helped you into your seat.

Promptly seating back down, he angled his body to yours—all attention on you as if you were the only one in the room. And in a way you were, with how molten his doe eyes stared, alternating between yours and your painted lips that begged to be kissed.

He always felt breathless when you were near. It was as if he found his very own Aphrodite to worship here on earth. Spencer was no believer of fates or destiny but he would pray and light a candle if he needed to, just to keep you his. Your intelligent mind complimenting his, your outgoing personality that draws anyone in, and your face that could launch a thousand ships.

Those eyes that could read the deepest crevices of his fiber of being. Those cheeks that begged to be caressed by his calloused hands. Those soft lips that deserved to be kissed and devoured until you, in turn, were as breathless as he was. He suddenly wished you both were anywhere else but here—specifically in the confines of the apartment where he was free to express his love, devotion, and adoration until you scream his name and beg him to stop. His hand, having found it’s way to your thigh, squeezed the flesh three times—communicating his promise to have your hair laid around you like a halo as you lay under him, bare and writhing with need.

The blonde on the other end of the table cleared her throat, cutting through the tension.

“Okay, Spence,” she smiled. “Mind introducing us to your girlfriend?”

He brought your hand to his lips, leaving a series of sweet kisses on your knuckle. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is the rest of the team. Morgan—“ he gestured to each one. “Emily, JJ, and Garcia.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you!” You exclaimed. “So sorry we’re only meeting now. We wanted to stay in our little bubble for as long as we could plus this handsome FBI agent—” you nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “—wanted to keep me to himself. But where’s Aaron and Dave?”

Emily whispered under her breath. “Aaron? Dave?”

“They had prior commitments, love. They did send their regards and Rossi wants to invite you to the next gathering at his mansion,” Spencer explained.

“Love?” Penelope squeaked out. This was really starting to feel like Twilight zone for the team members.

You nodded. “I’ll definitely plot it on my calendar. Now, I heard you had some questions for me?”

“How’d you two meet?” JJ asked.

“When was the first date?” Emily inquired.

Penelope brought out a pen and paper. “What’s you social security number?”

Derek snorted at that. “Do you have any other siblings?”

Spencer’s eyebrows raised further and further up with each question while your shoulders shook with laughter.

“She has all the time in the world to get to know each of you,” Spencer laid out. “No need to make it sound like an interrogation.” He was wishing to keep you forever, if you’d let him.

You smiled as you caressed his cheek, having caught on to the veiled meaning behind his words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[onceinablueberrymoon]

intentionally by chance | husband!salesman x pregnant!reader

part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | series masterlist scenario: a month after seeing the salesman on his way to the airport, gi-hun returns to that subway station every day, hoping to find the salesman and confront him. this is where you come in. setting: takes place after the events of season 1, but before gi-hun hires the loan shark group to search for the salesman warnings: deception; pregnant!reader; no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 1.3k notes: salesman fluff! ♡ this guy’s been plaguing my thoughts for weeks now, so i had to write about him. my first fic in years! i like to think that S1 salesman is more chill than in S2. please enjoy! borders by @strangergraphics-archive

“Excuse me… Can you please help me?”

The red-haired man, who was perusing the endless options of cup ramyeon, turned in your direction, but remained planted a few feet away from you. 

“Me?” He pointed at himself.

You nodded, adjusting the items you were holding in your arms. “Can you grab me that cup of ramyeon from the shelf? I’d get it, but my hands are full…” 

The man walked over and retrieved your cup of ramyeon. As he handed it to you, he noticed your pronounced bump under your sweater and furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Miss, you’re in no condition to be carrying so much. Please, let me help you bring it to the checkout.”

With your approval, he unloaded the rest of your snacks into his arms. The two of you walked to the register, where you insisted on paying for his own cup of ramyeon. You suggested eating the ramyeon at one of the tables outside the subway station’s convenience store, but he insisted on sitting on a bench on the subway platform. 

“Is there a particular reason you wanted to eat here? It’s not the most ideal dining spot…” You slurped your noodles happily. The man ate slowly, popping his head up every so often and eyeing his surroundings carefully. 

“I’m… looking for something. Nothing you should worry yourself with,” he continued to eat his food while you gave him a skeptical look.

“Perhaps I could help? Well, as long as I don’t have to move very much,” you chuckled, patting your stomach. He gave you a soft smile before changing the topic. 

“Shouldn’t your husband be buying you food instead of you coming to get it yourself?” He gestured to your bag of snacks, and you giggled.

“My husband buys me all the food I want, but sometimes I just want to get out of the house! It’s no fun being cooped up all day,” you sighed. The man nodded in understanding. 

“It’s also nice to talk to other people, like you,” you smiled at him. He returned your smile, but then his eyebrows shot up when a sharp smack echoed throughout the platform. 

The man jumped up, his cup ramyeon forgotten on the bench. You turned to see where the noise had come from, only to find a group of students huddled around another student who had dropped their textbooks on the ground. From what you could hear, it seemed like they were holding them for a friend but couldn’t handle the weight.

The red-haired man froze for a few seconds, then sat back down, heaving a big sigh. 

“Are you alright, sir? There’s nothing to worry about – it was just some books that fell.” You tried to comfort the man in some way, but he brushed the incident off. 

“I’m fine. It just… reminded me of something,” he tried his best to give you a reassuring smile, but it didn’t convince you. “Don’t worry about me. Please eat,” he gestured to your unfinished ramyeon, “you need strength for your baby.”

The rest of your time together was pleasant, but you were still not convinced that the man’s reaction was nothing. You both finished your noodles, disposing the packaging and your utensils before parting ways. 

Once you returned home, you put the remaining snacks away and settled on the sofa. There were still a few hours before your husband was due home. You got yourself comfortable, curled up under a blanket, and drifted off to sleep.

“Rough day?”

You cracked open your eyes. All you could see was a blurry grey shape, but you already knew who it was. 

Blinking your eyes a few times, your husband’s handsome face came into focus, with his usually crisp grey suit looking a bit creased. His usual smirk graced his face as he looked down at you on the sofa.

“I should be asking you that. What happened to your suit?” You sat up and he sat down next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder.

“One prospective player became violent when he lost at ddakji for the 20th time in a row. Of course, I was able to subdue him, but it took more effort than usual,” your husband tried to press down a crease on his sleeve, but to no avail. He rested a hand on your rounded belly, gently rubbing circles with his fingers.

“How was today? I trust you succeeded in your mission?” 

You scoffed, “He was exactly where you said he’d be. I was able to have a conversation with him. We even ate ramyeon together for lunch!” 

Your husband turned to face you, an eyebrow raised. “You ate ramyeon together?” He gave a small pout, “I thought I was the only one you ate ramyeon with.”

Immediately, your face flustered as you explained yourself, “Hey, you know that I would never cheat!” Then, you scoffed, “We ate cup ramyeon, alright? Not whatever fantasy you’re imagining in that head of yours.” He laughed, pecking you on the cheek.

“Oh, but I have some exciting news,” you said with a sparkle in your eyes. “He’s still looking for you. And he’s basically gone mad trying to find you.” This caught your husband’s attention.

“While we were eating, there was a loud noise. Turned out that a kid dropped their books. But Gi-hun didn’t know that. He shot up so fast I swear I thought he was possessed!” 

Your husband seemed to take in your findings carefully, continuing his circles on your bump as if they helped him focus. 

“He wouldn’t tell me what he was looking for, but he specifically wanted us to sit on the subway platform, so I think it’s safe to say he’s searching for you.” Your husband had previously informed you that he had spotted a player he had already recruited at the Incheon Airport subway station, albeit with flaming red hair. After talking with the Frontman, he confirmed that Seong Gi-hun was indeed the winner of the 33rd edition of the Games. 

Once you shared the rest of your intel with your husband, you let out a big sigh. 

“Should I meet with Gi-hun again? It’d be useful to know his location and I could maybe gather more info,” you looked at your husband who had since sat up, but he didn’t take his hand off your bump. 

He pondered your question for a moment. “While I would benefit from knowing his whereabouts, I’m more afraid of something happening to you,” his voice sounded strained. “I wouldn’t be there to protect you and our child.” 

You leaned onto his shoulder, resting a hand on top of his on your belly. “We’ll be fine. If anything, Gi-hun was also concerned for me because of the baby,” you winked. “Maybe they’re the key to earning his trust.” 

Your husband’s lips tightened into a straight line. While he wasn’t happy that you would spend time with someone who clearly despised him, you were right — your pregnancy would lower Gi-hun’s defenses. You knew how much your husband’s schedule was impacted by Gi-hun’s constant presence on the AREX subway line. It would greatly help your husband if you could keep Gi-hun at one station while he recruited prospective players for the Games. 

Your husband kissed the crown of your head and stood up, attempting once again to smooth out the crease on his sleeve. “We’ll see. I’ll talk to the Frontman to see if we can get you any additional protection. I still don’t like the idea of you being around Gi-hun alone. If he learns of our relationship, I imagine he will use you as ransom,” he clicks his tongue, “We can’t have that now, can we?” 

You shook your head and stood up next to your husband. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

“For now, continue researching prospective players. I’m almost done with your last batch,” he flashed his signature smirk, which you returned with a soft smile of your own.

“On it. Rumour has it that Tapgol Park has an abundance of people down on their luck…”

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Hello! Could you do a Barty Crouch Jr. x Fem! Potter! Reader.

Where they are both in Ravenclaw and get close and end up dating in secret because of the Slytherins and the marauders. But then something happens and they break up but Barty shows up at the readers house years later to warn her about Harry, James, and Lily. They rekindle (smut if you write it. Or leads to that?)

And I was thinking about two different endings.

Ending 1: The reader later finds out she’s pregnant and has to raise their child on her own until the triwizard tournament where their child meets their father?

Ending 2: The reader goes to godric hollow that night to try to help them but ends up dying and Barty finds her and holds her?

Or if you like both you can do two different Barty x reader!

Love your fics by the way and I am Hooked to the series!!

Making Mistakes

Barty Crouch Junior x Potter!RavenClaw!Reader

Summary: (See above) After a horrible break up in 7th year, Barty and you haven't spoken a word to eachother. Then, he comes barrelling back into your life begging for forgiveness, will you trust him?

Wc: 16.8k

CW: Angst Heavy. Hurt/Comfort, Barty and the reader are messssy. Sexual themes and scenes. Mom!Reader, AFAB!Reader, Dad!Barty, Non canon complacent, The first part of the fanfiction is focused on the reader- second is focused on Ophelia(your daughter).

The Potter Manor, once warm and full of life, now felt cold and empty. The high ceilings and ornate decorations that had once felt grand now only magnified the silence. The vibrant reds and golds of your family crest seemed muted, much like the life that had once filled these halls.

Your brother, James, was hiding somewhere even you couldn't name- hardly able to visit outside of special occasions. Your parents had been gone for over a year. The house was far too big, far too quiet, and far too lonely. It wasn’t just the emptiness of the space itself- it was the absence of the people who had made it a home. You’d told yourself that time would help, but the grief lingered, stubborn and heavy, refusing to fade.

Even now, curled up on the couch in the living room- the one you used to complain was too cramped- you felt the space around you stretch endlessly. With a blanket over your knees, the fireplace crackling softly, and a book resting on your lap, it should have felt cozy. Instead, it felt hollow. You ran your fingers absentmindedly over the cover of your book, your other hand drifting to the necklace around your neck, the small charm resting just above your heart- a lone magpie. 

It matched your patronus. Well, it matched what your patronus had become. Once, it had been a darling doe- calm and serene, a reflection of your regal- that's what Sirius had said. Now, it was the magpie: small, fierce, and energetic. It suited you, or at least the version of you that remained. You’d felt yourself change, slowly but surely, in the years you knew a love so dangerous it tore off parts of you that you no longer remmebered.

Your fingers traced the delicate charm as your thoughts wandered to the person who had given it to you. Barty. The weight of his name still felt the same, a complicated tangle of emotions that hadn’t untwisted no matter how much time passed. 

You could still see his face the night you’d told him you couldn’t do it anymore. The way his sharp features had frozen, the defiance and anger creeping in as soon as the words left your mouth. You’d said you couldn’t keep hiding, couldn’t keep pretending that what you had didn’t matter. You’d told him you were tired of the stolen glances, the whispered promises, and the constant fear of being caught. 

But you knew now that what had hurt him most wasn’t the ultimatum- it was the fear. Fear of admitting to the world what you meant to each other. Fear of what he might lose if he dared to love you openly. Fear that his world and yours were too different, too far apart to ever coexist. 

Now, as you sat there in the flickering firelight, your thumb brushed over the charm, the memories tugging at your chest. The book on your lap remained unopened as you stared into the flames, the ache in your heart as familiar as the necklace around your neck.

~~~

The flickering candlelight painted Barty’s sharp features in gold and shadow as he lay beside you, his bare chest rising and falling steadily. The heat of your bodies still lingered in the cool air of the room, your skin damp against the soft sheets tangled around your legs. His fingers toyed with the charm resting against your collarbone, his touch so gentle it made your heart ache.

“Crow, can we talk?” You whispered, your voice soft but firm, breaking the fragile silence that had fallen between you.

Barty’s hand froze, his fingers brushing against the charm one last time before he let it fall against your chest. His jaw tightened, his green eyes refusing to meet yours as he shifted slightly, feigning casualness. “What’s there to talk about, birdie?” He murmured, his voice smooth but unconvincing. Unsatisfied your little exercise didn't make you truly forget what you intended to talk about. “We’re here. Together. Isn’t that enough?”

You sat up slightly, leaning on your elbow as you looked at him. “No,” You said softly, the word carrying more weight than you’d intended. “It’s not.”

He finally glanced at you, his expression guarded. “You’re overthinking again,” He said lightly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Can’t we just- can’t we just enjoy this?”

“Enjoy what?” You challenged, your voice trembling slightly. “Hiding? Pretending? Barty, we can’t keep doing this.”

He groaned softly, falling back onto the pillow and running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Why do you have to ruin the moment?” He muttered, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness. “We’re happy, aren’t we? Isn’t that what matters?”

“Are we happy?” You shot back, sitting up fully now, the blanket slipping from your shoulders. “Because I don’t feel happy, Barty. I feel like I’m suffocating.”

He sat up abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he fixed you with a desperate gaze. “Don’t say that,” He snapped, his voice rising slightly. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” You said firmly, though your voice broke slightly. “I love you, Barty, but I can’t keep pretending this is enough. I need more. I need us- the real us.”

“This is the real us,” He argued, his voice frantic now. He reached for you, his hand gripping your arm as if holding onto you could stop you from slipping away. “This is how we work, birdie. This is how we survive. You think the world would let us be together? You think they’d let us have this?”

“I don’t care what the world thinks,” You snapped, your own desperation rising to meet his. “I care about us. But this- this isn’t sustainable. We’re tearing each other apart, Barty.”

“Of course you don’t care,” He spat suddenly, his grip tightening as his green eyes blazed. “You wouldn’t. You’re a Potter. You come from your perfect Potter family with your perfect, golden life. You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to have a family like mine- to be a Crouch.”

His words cut deep, the bitterness in his tone like a slap. But you didn’t flinch. Instead, you stared at him, your voice steady as you said, “Don’t you dare.”

He blinked, startled by the fierceness in your tone. “What?”

“Don’t you dare use my family as an excuse to run from what you deserve,” You said, leaning closer. “Just because my parents loved me, just because James and I grew up with something good, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve that too.”

He scoffed, the sound bitter and sharp. “I don’t deserve that. Not with who I am. Not with my name.”

“Yes, you do,” You said fiercely, your hand finding his cheek, forcing him to look at you. “You deserve love, Barty. Real love. Not this shadow of it we’re living in. But you have to believe that, or none of this will ever work.”

He stared at you, trying to read your expression, his jaw so tight you swore you could hear ticking. His grip on you was bruising, but you ached for it. You ached for his want, his desperate need, because without it- you felt like you were falling apart.

You leaned into him, your once hot skin chilling against the air of the room. On instinct, his hands slipped away from your arm and he wrapped them around your waist. Your hands found his chest and you moved all that bit closer. “Wouldn't that be a dream, Barty?” You whispered, voice strained and tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “If- if our kids,” You choked out and his eyes widened at your admittance of something solid. That was your dream. To be so true, so real, that starting a family was the obvious next step. “Our kids talk about us how I talk about my parents? That our son- our daughter- our little wix. They knew what a love like ours could do.”

Your words hit Barty like a physical blow, and for a moment, he looked utterly stunned. His hands on your waist tightened instinctively, pulling you closer as though the sheer force of your desperation could tether him to the dream you had just dared to voice. 

“Our kids,” He echoed, his voice hoarse and filled with something you couldn’t quite place- something between longing and disbelief. His wide eyes searched yours, as if trying to find the certainty he couldn’t feel within himself. “You really think… that we could have that?”

“I know we could,” You said, your voice trembling but resolute. “But only if you let us. Only if you stop running from it.”

He shook his head, his hands trembling where they gripped you. “You don’t get it, birdie,” He said, his voice breaking. “I’m not… I’m not good like you. Like your parents. I don’t know how to be that kind of person.”

“You think my parents were perfect?” You asked, your voice rising in frustration, shaking. “They weren’t saints, Barty. They argued, they made mistakes- but they never stopped trying. They never stopped fighting for what they believed in, for each other. And you can do that too.”

He let out a bitter laugh, the sound almost choking on its way out. “You don’t know what you’re asking. My family isn’t like yours, okay? My father only believes in appearances, in power. He’d never accept this- he’d never accept us. And if he found out…” He trailed off, his expression darkening as a shudder ran through him.

“I don’t care about your father,” You said fiercely, your hands cupping his face. “I care about you. And you’re not him, Barty. You’re not your father.”

His eyes closed at your words, as though they hurt to hear. “I don’t know how to believe that,” He admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to be what he wants, and even that’s not enough. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

“You don’t have to be,” You said, your thumb brushing softly against his cheek. “You just have to be you. And you have to let yourself believe you deserve more than what he’s made you think you do.”

He opened his eyes then, and for a moment, you saw the cracks in his carefully built walls- the vulnerability he worked so hard to hide. “And what if I can’t?” He whispered. “What if I ruin us?”

“Then we fight through it,” You said, your voice firm even as tears threatened to spill. “We keep trying, just like my parents did. Just like I know we can. You don’t have to be perfect, Barty. You just have to let yourself love me.”

His breath slowed, his hands sliding up your back as he pulled you into a desperate embrace. His head dipped into the crook of your neck, and you felt the wetness of his tears against your skin. “I do love you,” He said, his voice raw. “I love you so much it hurts. It scares the hell out of me, birdie.”

“I know,” You murmured, your hands threading through his hair. “I know, Barty. But love isn’t supposed to be easy. It’s supposed to be worth it.”

For a moment, you thought he might let himself believe you. His arms around you felt solid, grounding, as though he was holding on to you for dear life. But then, just as quickly, he pulled back, his eyes filled with an anguish that made your chest ache.

“I don’t know if I can give you what you deserve,” he finally muttered, his voice trembling. “And I can’t bear the thought of failing you.”

“You’re not failing me,” You said, reaching for him, but he was already pulling away, retreating back behind the walls he had built to protect himself.

“I am,” He said, his voice cracking as he shook his head. Pushing you back and getting to his feet. “I already am.”

You watched, your heart shattering as he put on his clothes, back to you. Your eyes trailed the path your nails made against his back, your silent claim on him that he always begged you for. “Barty, Barty, please.” You sobbed out and you saw how stiff he grew. “Barty, my love.”

“I hear you, Birdie.” He whispered and buttoned up his shirt. Walking back to the bed, but staying out of reach from you. “Always such a beautiful song.” He whispered before he leaned in and stole a kiss. “I'm sorry.”

“Barty-” You strained and he kissed you again. Over and over until he managed to push you back against the bed.

“I love you Birdie.”

“Barty-”

“But I'm.. I'm not who you need.”

Your heart broke with every word that fell from his lips, each one chipping away at the fragile hope you'd tried to build between you. 

“Don’t do this,” You whispered, your voice trembling as tears spilled freely down your cheeks. “Don’t say that, Barty. Don’t leave me like this.”

He closed his eyes as if shutting out the sight of you would make this easier, though you both knew it wouldn’t. “I have to,” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “If I stay, I’ll ruin you. I can’t do that, Birdie. I can’t be the reason you lose everything.”

“You are everything,” You choked out, grabbing his wrist in desperation as he made to pull away. “Can’t you see that? You’re what I choose, Barty. You’re what I want.”

His breath stopped at your words, and for a fleeting moment, you saw the war raging within him. His body was tense, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might shatter. But then he shook his head, his eyes meeting yours with a tortured finality.

“You deserve more,” His voice breaking as he leaned in to press one last kiss to your forehead. It lingered, soft and agonizingly final. “You deserve a love that doesn’t hurt like this.”

“I don’t care about perfect,” Your hands clutching at his shirt as though you could physically anchor him to you. “I care about you.”

He pried your hands off of him gently but firmly, his touch reverent even as it was devastating. “And I love you,” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But love isn’t always enough.”

You shook your head vehemently, trying to reach for him again, but he stepped back, his retreat like a knife slicing through the air between you. “Barty, please,” You begged, your voice breaking entirely now. “Please don’t do this.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his own tears threatening to spill, but then he turned away, his movements slow and deliberate, as if each step was a battle. 

He paused at the door, his hand on the frame, his back still to you. “You’ll always be my song, Birdie,” He said quietly, the nickname a bittersweet ache on his tongue.

And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the room that still smelled of him, your heart breaking in the silence he left behind. The only sound was your sobs, muffled by the pillow you clutched to your chest, the magpie charm pressing cold against your skin- a painful reminder of what you’d just lost.

~~~

You gave a low shaken sigh. Trying to still your shattering heart and gather your voice before it all became too much again. 

You looked up at the mantle above the fireplace, unable to stop the smile that curled on your lips. The photos, of your parents on their wedding day, of James’s first birthday, then yours. Then a photo of Lily and James’s wedding, of Harry’s first birthday- just three months ago. 

You stared at the photographs for a long moment, your fingers tightening around the magpie charm at your neck. The smiles in the photos were so vivid, so full of joy, that it felt almost cruel. Your parents, James, Lily, even baby Harry- they were all looping so present in the frozen moments captured by the camera. Yet here you were, alone in the vast emptiness of the manor, the weight of their absence pressing down on you.

The photo of Harry’s first birthday caught your eye. His tiny hand reaching for the cake, James’s laughing face as Lily leaned in to kiss Harry’s cheek. You could almost hear the sound of their laughter echoing in the back of your mind, a memory you clung to desperately. 

Your lips quirked into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “James would tell me to get up and stop being so dramatic,” You muttered to yourself, shaking your head. “He’d probably say something ridiculous like, ‘You’re a Potter, we don’t mope, we plot.’”

The thought of your brother’s mischievous grin brought a pang of longing. You missed him fiercely- his energy, his unrelenting optimism, and even the way he teased you mercilessly. James had always been your anchor, the one person who could pull you out of your darkest moments. But now he was miles away, hiding with Lily and Harry, fighting a war you couldn’t see but could feel in every corner of your being.

Your gaze drifted back to the fire, the flames dancing and crackling softly. The silence in the room felt deafening again, the weight of your solitude settling back over you. You tried to distract yourself by opening the book on your lap, but the words blurred together, meaningless against the storm of thoughts raging in your mind.

You closed the book with a frustrated sigh, setting it aside as you leaned back against the couch. Your fingers traced the magpie charm absently, your thoughts inevitably returning to him.

Barty.

His name echoed in your mind, and with it came a flood of memories- his rare, boyish smiles that he reserved just for you, the way his green eyes softened when he thought you weren’t looking, the way he held you like you were the only thing tethering him to the world. 

You closed your eyes, letting out a shaky breath as the memory of his voice played in your mind:

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, and you quickly wiped it away. Crying wouldn’t bring him back. Crying wouldn’t change the way he’d walked out of your life, no matter how much it hurt. 

But Merlin, did it hurt. 

The knock at the door startled you from your thoughts, the sound sharp and sudden against the heavy silence of the manor. You froze for a moment, your heart leaping to your throat as dread washed over you. The wards. You reminded yourself of the countless layers of protection James and Lily had insisted upon. No one with ill intent could step foot near the manor. Still, it took you a moment to move.

Your fingers tightened around your cardigan as you approached the door, peering cautiously through the window. Relief and confusion mingled as you saw Remus standing there, holding a bundle of flowers and looking chilled down to the bone.

You couldn’t help the way your lips curved into a smile, the first genuine one in what felt like weeks. Remus always had that effect on you, with his quiet strength and steady presence. You opened the door without hesitation, the chill of the winter evening brushing against your skin as you pulled him inside.

“Remus!” You laughed, wrapping your arms around him tightly before he could say a word. The flowers in his hands crinkled against your shoulder, and he let out a low, startled chuckle.

“Hello to you too,” He murmured, his arms coming around you after a brief hesitation. His embrace was warm and grounding, and for a moment, you let yourself rest in the safety of his hold. He cradled you like you were something fragile, something he was afraid might break if he squeezed too tightly.

When you finally pulled back, his sharp eyes roamed your face, scanning for any cracks in the mask you hadn’t realized you’d been wearing. “You didn’t have to bring me flowers,” You hummed softly, trying to inject some lightness into your tone as you gestured to the bouquet.

Remus gave a sheepish smile, shrugging slightly. “I thought it might brighten your evening,” he admitted. “But if I’d known the hug was part of the deal, I might’ve come sooner.”

You let out a laugh and furrowed your brow further, unable to help how the cheeky comment brightened up your night that little bit more. “I see Sirius has gotten into you. Come in, let's go to the kitchen.” 

The kitchen glowed softly, the warm light reflecting off the polished wooden counters and copper fixtures. The steady hum of the kettle was a comforting backdrop to the quiet conversation you and Remus shared. You busied yourself preparing tea, your back to him as he leaned against the table, his long limbs relaxed but his eyes watchful.

“You’ve redecorated,” He remarked, gesturing to the new curtains hanging over the window. “I’m not sure the maroon suits the Potters, though. Sirius would call it RavenClaw overkill.”

You smirked over your shoulder, a hint of genuine amusement breaking through the lingering heaviness in your chest. “Sirius would call anything not leather or black an abomination,” you retorted, setting two mismatched mugs on the counter.

Remus chuckled, a low, pleasant sound that filled the room. “Touché. Though I do think the blue adds some warmth. This place could use it.” He glanced around, his expression softening. “It feels different without… everyone.”

You paused for a moment, letting his words hang in the air. The truth of them settled deep in your chest, an ache that had grown all too familiar. “It’s been a bit lonely,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “I’m not used to all this space- just me.”

He nodded, his gaze heavy with understanding. “I think they’d hate to see you like this. Especially James. He’d insist on dragging you to some ridiculous Quidditch match to cheer you up.”

You smiled faintly at the thought, a flicker of warmth chasing away the cold for just a moment. “He would,” You agreed. “He’d bribe me with chocolate frogs and promise not to embarrass me in front of the team, only to shout louder than anyone else in the stands. Calling us the seeker twins.”

Remus’s lips quirked into a small smile, but there was a flicker of something else in his expression- something that felt out of place. Nostalgia, yes, but also something deeper, something almost... reverent. His fingers drumming against his cup as he sat down at the table.

“You’ve always been good at making people laugh,” He said softly, his tone different now. His gaze lingered on you in a way that made your fingers hesitate as you poured the tea.

“You give me too much credit,” You hummed lightly, though his words sent a faint blush creeping up your neck. “James is the funny one. I’m just the stubborn one.”

He tilted his head, his smile turning crooked- letting his fingers graze your wrist and fixing your cuff as you poured him his tea. “It's a Potter trait. But I think it’s more than that.”

You turned to face him fully. “What are you getting at, Remus?” You narrowed your eyes, your tone teasing but your curiosity piqued.

He took the mug, his fingers brushing yours briefly, and for a moment, he didn’t reply. He just studied you, his hazel eyes unusually intense. “You’ve always had this way of making people feel seen,” He said finally, his voice softer now. “Like they matter. Even when they don’t think they do.”

His words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. “That’s… kind of you to say,” You managed, looking down at your tea as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I don’t think I’ve ever been particularly good at- ”

“You're selling yourself short, Birdie.” He chuckled. The nickname slipped from his lips so naturally, so casually, that it took you a moment to process. When it hit, your breath caught in your throat, and the air between you seemed to still.

You set your mug down slowly, your mind racing even as you fought to keep your expression calm. You turned back to the sink, gripping the edge tightly to ground yourself. “...What did you just call me?”

Remus stiffened, and you felt his gaze burn into your back. “What do you mean?” He mumbled, his voice suddenly cautious.

You turned around, your heart pounding- only one person called you by that name. “Why are you here?” You crossed your arms, your voice steady despite the storm building in your chest. “And don’t tell me it’s for tea.”

His expression faltered for just a second- just long enough for you to see through the carefully constructed façade. “I’m here because I wanted to see you,” His tone was measured. “To make sure you were all right.”

“No,” You scoffed, shaking your head as the pieces clicked together. “No, you know I'm not a fool.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you didn’t let him. “Why are you here, Barty?” 

His eyes widened, and for a moment, the mask slipped entirely. The careful demeanor, the warm smiles, the familiar quirks- it all fell away, replaced by a raw, vulnerable intensity that made your breath stop.

“You always were too clever for your own good,” He muttered, leaning back in his chair with a resigned sigh. “Guess there’s no point pretending now.”

Your chest tightened as the truth settled in. You gave a disbelieving scoff before you ran your fingers through your hair. Pacing slightly before you paused, a scary truth settling over you. “How did you do it?”

Barty rolled his neck and leaned further into his seat to face you again. His expression neutral- the natural arrogant energy coming from him felt horribly wrong coming from Remus’s stolen face. “What exactly, birdie?”

“Don't play coy.” You snapped. “How did you get as piece of Remus for the potion you used to lie your way past my wards and into my home, Crouch?”

“... I hate when you call me Crouch.” Barty's response was almost petulant, his lips twisting into a pout as he sat back in the chair, fingers tapping rhythmically against the porcelain mug he had barely touched. He tilted his head to the side, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you, the faintest ghost of a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“You always know how to wound me,” He continued softly, his tone a mockery of vulnerability. “But then again, you've always been too good at that, haven't you?”

Your stomach churned at the way he looked at you, like you were something to be admired and consumed all at once. It was too much, too familiar, and yet so far removed from the boy you once knew. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, grounding yourself against the onslaught of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

“Answer the question, Barty,” You said sharply, your voice cutting through the heavy silence of the room. “How did you do it?”

He sighed dramatically, as though the act of explaining himself was some grand inconvenience. “Remus has always been predictable,” He snarked lazily, his gaze never leaving yours. “He's a creature of habit, like clockwork. It wasn’t exactly difficult to collect what I needed.”

Your blood ran cold at the casual way he spoke about violating the trust of someone you cared for. “You stalked him. You used him,” Your voice trembling with anger. “You used him to get to me.”

He smiled then, a slow, deliberate curl of his lips that sent a shiver down your spine. “I did it for you, Birdie,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, honeyed murmur. “For us. You don’t understand how much I’ve missed you, how much I’ve needed you. Every single day without you has been... agony.”

“Agony?” You repeated incredulously, your voice rising as your anger boiled over. “You don’t get to talk to me about agony, Barty. You left. You made that choice, and now you want to waltz back in here, pretending like nothing’s changed?”

“Because nothing has!” He shot back, rising from the chair so suddenly that it scraped against the floor with a harsh screech. He moved toward you, and despite yourself, you took a step back. “You think I stopped loving you? You think I ever stopped thinking about you? Every second, every breath, it’s always been you.”

“Stop,” You said firmly, holding up a hand to keep him at a distance. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to waltz in here, steal someone’s face, and act like you’re some lovesick hero.”

“But I am lovesick,” He said, his voice trembling as he closed the space between you. “I’m sick, Birdie. Sick. You’re the only thing that makes me feel alive, the only thing that’s ever made sense. Don’t you see? I’m here because I love you.”

“Love?” You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “You don’t even know what love is, Barty. Love doesn’t manipulate. It doesn’t lie. It doesn’t use people. Get out.”

His expression switched to one of complete shock. As if he didn't expect to actually be sent away. You turned on your heels and walked down the hall, ignoring the stunned boy for a moment before he began to follow after you, taking a heavy breath. “Baby, birdie, don't walk away. Princess.”

Merlin, you hated to hear that coming from Remus’s mouth. It made your skin crawl.

His voice followed you like a shadow, echoing in the high ceilings of the manor. “Birdie, please,” He pleaded, a mixture of whining and anger that grated against your already frayed nerves. You didn’t turn around, your footsteps quick and determined as you ascended the stairs. “Don’t walk away from me!”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Every part of you screamed to keep moving, to put as much distance as possible between you and the man who was once everything to you. Your grip tightened on the banister as you climbed, trying to block out the sound of his voice.

“Stop ignoring me!” He shouted, his tone sharp with frustration. He was right behind you now, his steps uneven and frantic. “Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I want to be like this?”

At that, you stopped abruptly, your heart pounding in your chest as you turned to face him. “Do I think this is easy for you?” You snapped, your voice trembling with barely contained fury. “You’ve made it abundantly clear, Barty, that you’ll do whatever you want- no matter who it hurts.”

He flinched at your words, the rawness of them cutting through his desperation. But instead of backing down, he stepped closer, his expression a twisted mixture of anguish and determination. His face flickered again, the remnants of the Polyjuice Potion struggling to hold as patches of his sandy hair and pale skin replaced Remus’s softer features.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” He said, his voice breaking. “I’m trying to fix this. To fix us.”

“There is no us,” you spat, your hands shaking as you stepped back. “There hasn’t been for a long time. And that was your choice, Barty.”

“No,” he said firmly, his green eyes blazing with an intensity that sent a chill down your spine. “You don’t get to put this all on me. You think I wanted to leave? You think I wanted to-” His voice cracked, and he clenched his fists, his body trembling with barely restrained emotion. “I didn’t have a choice, Birdie. You don’t understand-”

“You’re right,” You interrupted, your voice rising. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand how someone who claimed to love me could leave me to pick up the pieces of a life we built together. I don’t understand how you can come back now, pretending like you didn’t shatter me.”

He took another step forward, his hands outstretched as though reaching for something he couldn’t quite grasp. “Because I had to,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Don’t you see? I had to protect you. From my father, from the world we were in. I-”

“Stop,” you said sharply, holding up a hand to cut him off. “Don’t stand there and pretend you were some kind of martyr. You weren’t protecting me, Barty. You were protecting yourself.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he might argue. But then his shoulders slumped, and the fight seemed to drain out of him. “Maybe I was,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I love you. That I’ve always loved you.”

“Love?” You echoed bitterly, shaking your head. “You call this love? Breaking into my home, stealing someone else’s face, manipulating me into letting you in? That’s not love, Barty. That’s obsession.”

At that, something in him seemed to snap. His entire body tensed, and he closed the space between you in two long strides. “Fine,” he hissed, his voice low and trembling with barely contained anger. “Call it what you want. Call me a monster, call me obsessed- but don’t you dare tell me I don’t love you.”

Before you could respond, his knees buckled, and he sank to the stair landing at your feet, his hands clutching at your covered thighs as though it were a lifeline. His chin pressed against your skirt, looking up at you with those eyes a young girl you knew once spent hours of her time lost in. Those brilliant and calculated eyes. Here he was; Bartemius Crouch Junior, with an ego to rival the gods and the mind and skill to back it up- on his knees. Looking up at you like an obedient dog. “How can I not love you?” He whispered. “Birdie. My beautiful song bird. How?”

Your chest heaved as you looked down at him, his once-imposing figure now crumpled before you, hands gripping your skirt like you were the only tether keeping him from falling apart completely. His words, dripping with desperation, clawed at your resolve. 

“Barty,” You whispered, your voice trembling, a mixture of anger and grief thick in your throat. “You need to leave.”

His eyes shot up at your words, his green eyes wide with disbelief. He stared at you as if you’d just struck him, his lips parting slightly, searching for something to say. “No,” he said softly, his voice unsteady but growing firmer. You watched as the full potion effect dropped away. “I can’t leave. Not like this. Not when I know you still love me.”

You flinched, his words cutting deeper with his true voice, but you didn’t waver. “This isn’t about love,” you said firmly, though your voice cracked. “This is about you not knowing when to let go.”

He rose slowly, his movements deliberate, careful, like a predator trying not to spook its prey. He hovered over you now, his height casting a shadow that made the grand staircase feel suddenly small. His hand reached out, trembling as it moved toward your cheek, and you instinctively stepped back, pressing yourself against the banister.

“Don’t,” You warned, your voice sharp.

His hand froze mid-air, his fingers curling slightly before he dropped it to his side. He exhaled shakily, his breath warm as it ghosted over your skin. “Birdie, please,” He murmured, his voice barely audible, his lips forming words you couldn’t make out. His shoulders hunched as if the weight of his own need was too much to bear. “Please don’t send me away.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill over as you fought to keep your composure. “You don’t get to do this,” You hissed. “You don’t get to break into my home, throw yourself at my feet, and demand I fix you. You’re not my responsibility, Barty. Not anymore.”

His hands twitched at his sides, his jaw clenching as he fought some inner battle you couldn’t see. Then, in a single motion, his hands reached for you again, his movements quick but not violent, desperate but not forceful. Panic surged through you, and before you could think, your hand flew up, striking his cheek with a sharp slap.

The sound echoed in the hollow silence of the staircase. 

He staggered back slightly, his hand flying to his cheek, but instead of anger, a strange expression crossed his face. His lips curved into a slow, almost delirious smile, his chest rising and falling as if he’d just surfaced from drowning. 

“That,” He murmured, his voice rasping with something unhinged, “felt real.”

Your stomach churned, the unease twisting tighter as he stood straighter, his demeanor shifting. His hand dropped from his cheek, and he let out a low, almost relieved laugh, shaking his head. “That’s the Birdie I know,” he said softly, his tone dangerously gentle. “The one who knew what our passion meant- I miss her. Can I talk to her?”

Your chest heaved with the weight of his words, the deranged calmness in his voice sending your heart into overdrive. His smug, unhinged smile made the bile rise in your throat as your fingers curled into fists at your sides. 

“You miss her?” You snapped, your voice sharp and trembling. “The Birdie you claim to miss is the one you destroyed, Barty! She’s the one you left behind when you decided to join them!”

The smile faltered slightly, and for a fleeting moment, you saw something like regret flicker across his face. But it wasn’t enough. It could never be enough to erase what he had done. 

“You made your choice,” you continued, stepping toward him now, your fury overriding the trembling in your hands. “You chose to follow him. You chose to become a monster, to fight against everything I stand for, everything my family stands for. You don’t get to waltz back into my life and pretend none of it happened.”

“I did it for you,” His voice rising, his green eyes blazing as he stepped closer. “Every single thing I’ve done was for you, Birdie! To protect you, to keep you safe, to make sure you’d never have to know what it’s like to be weak. You think I wanted to join them? You think I wanted to-”

“Don’t you dare,” You cut him off, your voice trembling with rage. “Don’t you dare try to make this about me. You didn’t join them for me, Barty. You joined them because you’re too much of a coward to stand up to your father. You wanted power. You wanted to prove to him that you were more then him. But you didn’t care who you hurt along the way, did you?”

He flinched as though you’d struck him again, his jaw tightening as his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” He hissed through gritted teeth, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t know what it’s like to live with the weight of that name. To have no choice but to-”

“You had a choice!” You screamed, the words tearing from your throat as tears stung your eyes. “You always had a choice, Barty! And you chose them. You chose power. You chose to stand against me, against my family. Against James!”

He froze at that, his eyes wide and his breath hitching as though you’d struck a nerve. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop now, not with everything bubbling to the surface. 

“You think I haven’t thought about you every single day?” You demanded, your voice breaking as tears began to spill freely down your cheeks. “You think I haven’t wondered if there was something I could have done, something I could have said to stop you? To save you?”

“Don’t,” He whispered, his voice trembling now, the bravado in his tone beginning to crack. “Don’t say that.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to say,” You spat, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. “You don’t get to tell me anything anymore. You lost that right the moment you turned your back on me.”

He stared at you, his chest rising and falling unevenly as the weight of your words pressed down on him. And then, suddenly, he moved. 

Before you could react, he closed the distance between you in a single stride, his hands gripping your face with a desperation that took your breath away. His lips crashed into yours with a force that stole the air from your lungs, the kiss searing and frantic, as though it was the only way he could express everything he couldn’t say. 

For a moment, you froze, your mind racing as the heat of his mouth overwhelmed your senses. You wanted to shove him away, to scream at him, to remind him of all the reasons this was wrong. But then something in you broke. 

Your hands flew to his chest, not to push him away, but to pull him closer. The kiss deepened, raw and terrifying, a collision of anger, grief, and longing that neither of you could control. His hands slipped from your face to your waist, his grip bruising as he pulled you against him as if he could fuse you together.

The kiss deepened, and soon words no longer mattered. There were no more accusations, no more pleas, just the raw, unfiltered intensity of everything you’d both been holding back for far too long. It wasn’t tender or sweet- it was desperate, filled with the kind of longing and pain that made it impossible to think about anything else. His hands mapped out every inch of you as though he was trying to memorize you, to hold onto something real in a world that had been slipping away from him for years. 

And you let him. You let yourself forget, if only for a moment, what he’d done, what he’d become, and the mess he’d left in his wake. You let yourself feel, because Merlin knew you couldn’t stand the ache of silence anymore.  

It wasn’t long before the tension gave way to something more, something equally terrifying and exhilarating. Clothes were discarded hastily, his lips tracing paths of fire along your skin, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the silence of the manor wasn’t suffocating. It was electric.

You didn’t speak a word to each other the entire time. The only sounds being your soft gasps and his inaudible murmurs- ones that sounded more like pleas than anything else. You couldn’t give him more then that. Words would have only reminded you of the impossibility of it all, of everything you’d both lost. Words would have shattered the fragile bubble you’d created, where nothing else mattered but the two of you.  

When it was over, you lay side by side in the fading moonlight, your bodies tangled in the sheets as the world slowly came back into focus. His breathing was uneven, his hand still resting on your waist as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go. But you didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. You stared at the ceiling instead, your mind a chaotic storm of emotions you weren’t ready to unpack.

~~~

The morning light filtered in through the heavy curtains, painting the room in soft hues of gold and grey. You stirred slightly, the ache in your body a reminder of the night before, but you kept your eyes closed, willing the world- and him- away.  

You heard him moving about, the rustle of fabric as he dressed. For a brief, fleeting moment, you thought he might leave quietly, that he might spare you the agony of facing him after everything that had happened. But then he spoke, his voice low and hesitant, as though testing the waters.  

“I’ll come back later.”  

You scoffed softly, rolling over to face the wall, your back to him. You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t trust yourself to speak without breaking, without letting the storm inside you spill out.  

“Birdie…” His voice was softer now, almost pleading, but you didn’t move. You kept your breathing even, your expression neutral, even as your heart clenched painfully in your chest.  

The air felt heavier as the silence stretched, broken only by the soft creak of the floorboards as Barty lingered by the door. His shadow loomed across the threshold, hesitant, like a ghost caught between staying and vanishing. 

“Birdie.” He whispered, his voice raw and strained, as though dragging each word out of his chest cost him a piece of himself. “One last thing.”

You didn’t respond, your body curled away from him, but he knew you were awake. He always did.

“You have to tell James.” He sighed, the words tumbling out in a quiet rush. “About his Secret Keeper.”

Your breath stopped, but you didn’t move. Every muscle in your body tensed as his words settled over you like frost, cold and unforgiving.

“Barty, what are you talking about?” You finally whispered, your voice hoarse as you turned just enough to glance over your shoulder. He looked so different in the pale morning light, the shadows on his face accentuating the cracks in his armor, the boy you once loved bleeding through the man he had become.

“Just promise me,” He cut you off, his tone suddenly sharper. “You'll.. warn him not to trust them.”

You stared at him, searching his face for answers, but all you found was that same haunted intensity you’d seen last night. He wasn’t lying- at least, not about this. But that didn’t make it any easier to believe. 

“... okay.” You muttered. “I will.”

Barty stared at you like he wanted to say a million different things at once. Instead, he turned, the door closing behind him. You hugged your knees to your chest and willed away as much of reality as possible. Begging for any sense of normalcy to return; even the painful loneliness.

But nothing truly worked.

~~~

As the days went on, the weight of Barty's absence hung over the time that followed like a storm cloud. He hadn’t come back, and you weren’t sure if you were relieved or heartbroken. The last words he’d said lingered with you, haunting your every quiet moment: Tell James. Warn him.

You’d followed through on his warning, albeit reluctantly. It had been difficult to convince James without revealing the entire truth, but the grim look in his eyes had told you he believed you, or at least enough to act. 

Nothing happened at first, but Peter was monitored. It didn't take long for everything to come to light; Peter was working against you. It all worked out. James was ready for him that night, the night he came for Harry, surprising the monster before he could act. Peter tried to run after the news came out, but a furious Sirius tracked him down for a confrontation. One with an explosive end for their former friend, nothing left of the boy but a finger.

It did take a few hours of wrestling with the Aurors, but after being proper witnesses and all of your evidence of treason- Sirius was released. Walking out of the holding cell with a smile that could blunt the sun. Lily and James were safe. Baby Harry, too. Relief and disbelief were all anyone seemed capable of, but you couldn’t bring yourself to celebrate. Not fully. Because in the same breath that the Dark Lord fell, Barty was taken to Azkaban.

You hadn’t dared to ask about the details. Not from James, not from Sirius, not from anyone. Knowing felt like it would only make it worse. But the knowledge of him locked away, cold and alone in a place that stripped people of everything, clawed at your chest in the silence of the manor.

You had lost him all over again, and this time, you knew there was no coming back. 

The days that followed felt like a blur of motion and noise, a sharp contrast to the oppressive stillness that had once consumed you. You refused to let Barty- or the ghost of him that lingered in your mind- define you any longer. He was gone, and you couldn’t afford to let his absence drag you down any further. Not when there was work to be done.

You didn’t go to his hearing. You couldn’t. The idea of sitting in that courtroom, of listening to them talk about him as though he was nothing more than a monster, was too much. It wasn’t that you disagreed. He’d made his choices, and the world would see him for what he’d become. But for you, he was still the boy who had once traced your blemishes like constellations and whispered that you were the only light in his life. 

Even now, looking back, you had always known what that young boy was capable of. The signs were there; and the raking guilt of knowing that you were possibly the only thing keeping him from becoming what he seemed so keen on being, taxed your self worth.

So, you pretended that night didn’t happen. That he didn’t exist. The magpie charm around your neck was tucked away in a drawer, along with the pieces of your heart that still ached for him. You buried it all deep, focusing on what you could control, on what you could fix.

Joining the Order to help clean up the aftermath of the war felt like a natural next step. It was what your parents would have done, what James would have done if he wasn’t busy. Saying he wanted to be a proper father to Harry and a good man to Lily. Lily still stayed close, there wasn't many healers with her talent. But James stepped down. It was what you needed to do. The world hadn’t stopped turning, and there were still Death Eaters to hunt, still innocent people to protect, still so much damage to undo.

The first few missions were grueling, physically and emotionally. You worked long hours, tracking down the last of Voldemort’s loyalists and dismantling the remnants of their operations. It was dangerous, messy work, but you thrived in it. The chaos kept you moving, kept you from lingering too long on the memories that threatened to pull you under.

You found solace in the chaos of the Order. Sirius, always protective, tried to keep a close eye on you, though he seemed to understand your need for space. Remus was steadier, offering quiet support when you needed it most, though you often pushed him away. And James- when he wasn’t with Lily and Harry- was your anchor, his unrelenting optimism a reminder of the person you used to be.

But there were moments, late at night, when the world went quiet, and you couldn’t escape the weight of it all. When you lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, and his voice echoed in your mind. When you caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye that reminded you of him, and your heart clenched painfully before you forced yourself to look away.

And then there were the whispers. The Order didn’t really talk about Barty, he was just another cog in the operation, but you heard the murmurs. About his trial, about Azkaban, about how someone so young and clever could have fallen so far. You kept your head down, pretending not to hear, but the words cut deep.

The recklessness came on slowly at first, creeping into your choices like an insidious shadow. You pushed yourself harder on missions, volunteering for the riskiest tasks, throwing yourself into danger with a desperation that bordered on self-destructive. It was easier to focus on the fight, on the rush of adrenaline and the sharp edge of survival, than to confront the gaping void Barty had left behind.

Sirius and Remus noticed, of course. They weren’t blind to the way you flinched at certain names, or how you worked yourself to exhaustion. Sirius tried to laugh it off at first, making quips about how you were channeling your inner Gryffindor ‘under all that Ravenclaw’. But Remus, ever perceptive, wasn’t fooled. His hazel eyes lingered on you with quiet concern, though he said nothing outright. Not until the mission that changed everything.

It was supposed to be a straightforward raid: infiltrate a suspected Death Eater hideout, gather intel, and get out. But things rarely went as planned. The ambush was swift and brutal, spells ricocheting off walls and sending debris flying. You and Remus were in the thick of it, your wand moving instinctively as you deflected curses and fired back.

Then it happened. A flash of green light, too close, too fast. It was aimed directly at Remus, who had his back turned while shielding a fallen comrade. Without thinking, you moved. You felt the spell hit you like a freight train, knocking the air from your lungs as a searing pain ripped through your side. 

You barely registered Remus’s horrified shout as you crumpled to the ground, your vision blurring. The sounds of the battle faded into a dull roar as your consciousness slipped away, the last thing you saw being his anguished face hovering over you.

~~~

Remus paced the length of the ornate carpet, his fingers raking through his hair repeatedly as though he could scrub away the memory of what had happened. Sirius sat slumped on the sofa, uncharacteristically silent, his dark eyes fixed on the fireplace. The flickering flames did nothing to ease the tension in the room.  

Remus’s chest tightened with guilt, each second that passed driving the weight deeper. He could still see it- the flash of green light, the way you had thrown yourself in front of him without hesitation. The moment felt frozen in time, looping endlessly in his mind.  

“Moony, sit down,” Sirius huffed finally, his voice low and hoarse. It was an order, but not a harsh one.  

“I can’t,” Remus replied, his voice taut as a wire. “She- she could’ve-”  

“But she didn’t,” Sirius interrupted, his tone firm. “She’s alive, and Lily is better then any healer we have.”  

Remus halted mid-step, his jaw clenched tightly. “She shouldn’t have had to save me,” he said, his voice cracking. “She- she’s half alive, Sirius. If anything happens to her-”  

Sirius’s gaze darkened, and he stood, crossing the room in a few long strides. He placed a hand on Remus’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “You listen to me,” His eyes were sharp but his voice was steady. “She’s as stubborn as James, maybe more so. There’s no way she’d have stood by and done nothing, and you know it. Blaming yourself won’t change anything.”  

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of the front door opening cut him off. Both men turned toward the entrance just as James entered, his face pale and tense. Harry toddled in after him, clutching his father’s pant leg with wide, curious eyes.  

“Where is she?” James asked immediately, his voice sharp with worry.  

“She’s upstairs,” Sirius said quickly. “Lils’ with her. She hasn't come back down yet.”  

The tension in the room was suffocating, the silence broken only by the faint crackle of the fire and the occasional creak of floorboards as Remus paced. Sirius watched James carefully, noting how his hands trembled ever so slightly as he held Harry close. It was subtle, but for someone as unshakable as James Potter, it was telling.

“I need to go to her,” James said abruptly, his voice sharp and breaking the heavy stillness. He passed Harry to Sirius, who took the toddler without protest, his dark eyes wary. “She’s my sister. She shouldn’t be alone.”

“You can’t,” Sirius said firmly, standing up to meet James’s gaze. “Lily said we need to give her space. She’s working.”

“I don’t care what Lily said!” James snapped, his voice louder now, desperation seeping into his tone. “That’s my little sister lying upstairs, Sirius. If something happens- if she-” He cut himself off, swallowing hard as he fought to steady his breathing. “I can’t just sit here.”

“You think I want to?” Sirius shot back, his voice rising to match James’s. “You think Remus wants to? Merlin, Prongs, we’re all going mad down here, but Lily knows what she’s doing. She’ll call us if- when- there’s news.”

James ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. He knew if anyone could understand even a fraction of what he was feeling it was Sirius- you had endeared yourself to him in a way not many people could. And those people were in this house. “She doesn’t get to keep me from her,” He muttered, his tone dangerously low now. “Not her. Not anyone.”

“James, listen to me,” Sirius snapped, stepping closer, his hand gripping James’s shoulder tightly. “You storming in there isn’t going to help her. It’s not going to help anyone.”

Before James could respond, the sound of light footsteps descending the stairs cut through the room like a knife. All three men turned toward the staircase as Lily appeared, her face pale and her expression unreadable. The sight of her made James freeze, his words dying in his throat. Sirius’s grip on Harry tightened, and Remus stopped pacing entirely.

Lily’s hands were clasped tightly in front of her, and her eyes darted between the men before finally settling on James. “Can I speak with you alone?” She asked softly, her voice calm but heavy with something that made James’s stomach churn.

“What is it?” He demanded, taking a step toward her. “Lily, just tell me-”

“Please, James,” She interrupted, her voice breaking just slightly as she glanced toward Harry, who was still nestled in Sirius’s arms. “Come with me.”

James hesitated, his body rigid with tension, but the look in Lily’s eyes left no room for argument. He turned back to Sirius and Remus, his jaw clenched tightly. “I’ll be back,” He said, though his voice wavered.

James followed Lily just a few steps into the hallway before she stopped, her back to him as she hesitated. Lily’s words were hushed and inaudible, even to Remus’s keen ears- or maybe, he just wasn't willing to know just yet.

James’s expression shifted from tension to something unreadable, his brows drawing together as he processed Lily’s quiet words. The weight of whatever she had said seemed to hit him all at once, and his jaw went slack, his eyes widening in stunned disbelief.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a quick glance, their concern growing as they watched James stagger back a half step, his hand running through his already disheveled hair. His lips moved as though forming a question, but no sound escaped. Whatever Lily had told him, it had shaken him to his core.

Sirius shifted Harry on his hip, his protective instincts flaring. “What the hell did she just say to him?” He muttered under his breath to Remus, his dark eyes narrowing.

“I don’t know,” Remus replied quietly, his voice tight with unease. James finally looked at Lily, his wide eyes searching hers for confirmation. 

James didn't hesitate after Lily's nod. He took the stairs two at a time, his worry and confusion pressing heavily on his shoulders. His hand gripped the banister tightly as he moved, the wood creaking faintly under his weight. Sirius and Remus exchanged uneasy glances from their spot by the fireplace, the tension thick enough to choke on.  

Lily lingered at the base of the stairs for a moment, watching James's retreating form before turning back to the room. She mustered a soft, reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.  

“She’s fine,” she said quietly, addressing Sirius and Remus.  

Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Fine? You call that fine?” He gestured toward the staircase with a sharp nod, where James had disappeared moments before. “Prongs looked like he was about to keel over.”  

“She is,” Lily insisted gently but firmly. “But James.. they just need to talk.”  

Remus frowned, his sharp hazel eyes darting between Lily and the stairs. “If she’s fine, why is he in such a rush? What aren’t you telling us, Lily?”  

Lily hesitated, her smile faltering slightly as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s not my place to say,” she said finally, her voice soft but resolute. “You’ll have to ask her yourselves when she’s ready.”  

Sirius let out a low growl of frustration, running a hand through his hair. “Great. Love a good mystery. Just what we need after all this.”  

Remus, however, wasn’t so easily placated. His gaze lingered on Lily, his instincts screaming that there was more to the story than she was letting on. But he didn’t press her. Not yet.  

Instead, he leaned back against the arm of the couch, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Whatever it is, it’s obviously got James in a state,” he muttered under his breath.  

Lily offered him a small, almost apologetic smile before excusing herself, taking Harry from Sirius, as she headed toward the kitchen, leaving Sirius and Remus to stew in their unease.  

~~~

James reached the door to your room, his breath coming in shallow bursts as he paused to gather himself. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find on the other side. The worry twisting in his chest was relentless, and the weight of Lily’s cryptic words only added to his unease.  

He knocked softly, his knuckles brushing the wood. “It’s me,” He called quietly, his voice trembling slightly. “Can I come in?”  

There was a moment of silence, and then your voice- weak but steady- drifted through the door. “It’s open.”  

James pushed the door open and stepped inside, his eyes immediately searching for you. You were propped up against a pile of pillows on the bed, your complexion pale but no longer deathly. A soft blanket was draped over your lap, and a steaming mug rested on the nightstand beside you.  

Relief flooded through him at the sight of you awake, but it was quickly tempered by the shadow of exhaustion that lingered in your eyes.  

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice breaking the quiet.  

You managed a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Hey, Jamie.”  

He crossed the room in a few strides, pulling the chair closer to your bedside and sinking into it. His hands fidgeted in his lap as he searched for the right words, his gaze flickering between your face and the mug on the nightstand.  

“You scared the hell out of me,” He sighed finally, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You looked down, your fingers picking at the edge of the blanket. “I know. I’m sorry.”  

James shook his head, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Don’t apologize,” He said firmly. “Just… talk to me. Please. What’s going on? Lily said you’re fine, but-”  

“Lily’s right,” You cut in gently, meeting his gaze. You were able to see all the true overbearing nature of James Potter. When you were younger his protective nature used to irritate you- he was always on, all the time, brash and loud- a proper lion. Now? You wanted nothing more than to curl up against him and cry. But that's the last thing you could allow yourself to be- weak. “I’m fine, James. Or at least, I will be.”  

He studied you for a long moment, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of concern and doubt. “Lily said.. you needed to tell me something.”

James tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing as he studied your expression. There was something guarded in your eyes, something that made the air between you feel heavier. His concern deepened when you let out a soft, shaky breath and slowly ran your hand over your abdomen.

The motion was small, almost absentminded, but it struck James like a thunderclap. His eyes widened, his lips parting as the realization sank in. For a moment, he was utterly still, his mind racing to catch up with what you’d just silently told him.

“No,” he breathed, the word barely audible as he leaned back in his chair, his face pale with shock. “No.”

You didn’t say anything, didn’t move, didn’t breathe. You simply held his gaze, your fingers resting lightly on your abdomen.

James swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he asked, “Bambi, when?”

The nickname, soft and familiar, broke something inside you. But you held firm, your eyes flickering away from his as you shook your head. “It doesn’t matter,” You whispered, your voice barely above a murmur.

James’s leg began to bounce, his eyes flickering from you to the door a few times before he shot up from his seat and began to pace. “When did you find out?” He demanded sharply, his voice tight with tension.  

“Tonight,” You admitted quietly, your fingers curling around the blanket on your lap.  

James stopped mid-step, spinning on his heel to face you. “Tonight?” He repeated, his voice rising slightly. “And you didn’t think to tell me immediately? Merlin’s sake!”  

You flinched as his voice raised, but you held your ground, meeting his gaze with a calmness you didn’t entirely feel. “I was a little busy almost dying, James,” You hissed, your voice firmer now.  

He opened his mouth to argue but then snapped it shut, his jaw tightening as he resumed pacing. “Fine. Fine,” He muttered, more to himself than to you. “But you’re leaving the Order.”  

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking your head. “As if they’d want me back after that stunt,” You shot back. “I’m not exactly in peak condition for fieldwork, am I?”  

James ignored your sarcasm, his hands balling into fists as he continued his relentless pacing. “Good. You shouldn’t be anywhere near this madness,” He said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “Not now.”  

Your heart clenched at his words, the overbearing protectiveness you’d come to associate with him hitting harder than ever. But before you could respond, he stopped abruptly, his hazel eyes narrowing as a new thought seemed to strike him.  

“Who is it?” He demanded, his voice sharp and almost accusatory. “Who?”  

You swallowed hard, the weight of his question settling over you like a lead blanket. “It doesn’t matter,” You pushed, though your voice wavered slightly.  

James’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he began to pace once more. “Doesn’t matter?” He echoed incredulously, his voice rising. “It absolutely matters, Bambi. You can’t just- Merlin, you can’t drop something like this and expect me not to-” He cut himself off with a growl, shaking his head as he muttered under his breath.  

James's pacing came to an abrupt halt, his hazel eyes narrowing as the pieces began to fall into place. He turned to you, his expression shifting from confusion to a dawning realization that made your stomach drop.  

“The wards,” he said slowly, his voice low and dangerous. “The ones Lily and I put up for you- someone would’ve had to get past them. Someone who knew how to.”  

You froze, your heart pounding in your chest as his gaze locked onto yours, sharp and unrelenting.  

“Who was it, Bambi?” he demanded again, his tone deadly serious now. “Who the hell got past the wards?”  

Your throat tightened, and for a moment, you couldn’t find your voice. You looked away, your fingers gripping the blanket tightly as if it could shield you from the weight of his question.  

“Answer me!” James’s voice cracked, a mixture of desperation and anger bleeding into his tone.  

You took a shaky breath, your gaze fixed on the wall as you whispered, “You don’t want to know, James.”  

“That’s not your choice to make,” he shot back, his voice trembling. “Tell me.”  

You finally met his gaze, your eyes brimming with tears as you whispered the name that had haunted you for weeks, for months: “Barty.”  

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of your admission hanging heavy in the air. James stared at you, his face a mixture of shock, anger, and something deeper- betrayal.  

“Barty Crouch?” He asked slowly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak.  

“Barty Crouch Junior?” James pushed and you gave a weak scoff.

“James- yes Junior.” You huffed, your anger boiling over.

James stared at you, his chest rising and falling with the effort of keeping his temper in check. His jaw clenched so tightly you thought it might shatter, but his eyes- those familiar, warm hazel eyes- betrayed the storm inside him. He was angry, yes, but the anger wasn’t directed at you. It wasn’t even directed at Barty. It was directed at himself.

For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the faint beating of rain against the windows. You could see it, the way his hands trembled slightly as he tried to decide what to say. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but sharp enough to cut through the silence.

“How long?” He asked, his tone controlled but strained. “How long were you seeing him?”

You swallowed hard, gripping the blanket in your lap. “James-”

“How. Long.” His voice cracked, louder this time, the control slipping for just a moment. He was trying, you knew he was trying, but the weight of everything was too much for even him to hold back.

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “It started fifth year.” you admitted quietly. “It ended seventh. And he.. he showed up here. He told me about Peter.”

James’s face twisted, and he turned away, his hands dragging through his already-messy hair. He let out a low, frustrated sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “Fifth year?” he muttered to himself. “Merlin, Bambi, how did I not see it? How did I-” He cut himself off, pacing again.

You bit your lip, tears stinging your eyes. “James, please-”

“I..” He started but stopped- as if your tears alone tore apart at his flimsy heart. Closing his eyes and taking a steady breath. “So he made it past the wards. He came and told you about Peter and what? You-”

“James please just drop it. He's in Azkaban for life! It doesn't matter.”

James froze mid-step, his fists clenching tightly at his sides as his back remained turned to you. His shoulders heaved with the weight of unspoken words, his frustration palpable in the charged silence that filled the room.

"It doesn't matter?" He finally repeated, his voice low and filled with a quiet, simmering rage. "It doesn't matter?"

You flinched at his tone, gripping the blanket tighter as you tried to steady your breathing. "He's gone, James," you said softly, your voice trembling. "There's nothing left to fight over. There's no point in dragging this out."

James spun around to face you, his hazel eyes blazing with a mixture of anger, hurt, and disbelief. "No point?" He hissed, taking a step closer. "You think I’m angry because of him? Merlin, Bambi, I couldn’t give a damn about Barty Crouch. I’m angry because you didn’t tell me. You’ve been carrying this- this secret- alone, and now you’re trying to push me away again."

"I'm not pushing you away," You shot back, your voice rising slightly. "I'm trying to protect you! You have Lily, Harry- your family. You don't need to be dragged into this mess, James. It’s mine to deal with."

His expression softened for a fraction of a second, but the anger quickly returned. "You’re my family," he said fiercely, his voice breaking slightly. "You always have been. And if you think for one second that I’m going to stand here and let you face this alone, then you don’t know me at all."

You stared at him, the raw emotion in his voice cutting through your defenses like a blade. Your chest ached, torn between the desire to let him in and the fear of burdening him further. "James, I-" you began, but your voice faltered as tears welled in your eyes.

He closed the distance between you, dropping into the chair beside your bed. His hand found yours, warm and steady despite the tremor in his grip. "Listen to me," he said softly, his tone losing its edge as his thumb brushed over your knuckles. "I don’t care how messy this is. I don’t care how much it hurts. I just care about you."

The dam inside you broke, and a sob escaped your lips as you clung to his hand like a lifeline. "I don’t know how to fix this," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how to move forward."

James squeezed your hand tightly, his gaze unwavering. "You don’t have to figure it out alone," he said firmly. "We’ll take it one step at a time, together. You hear me, Bambi? You’re not alone in this."

The weight on your chest eased ever so slightly as his words sank in, the overwhelming love and determination in his voice a balm to your fractured soul. You nodded, unable to speak as the tears streamed down your face, and James pulled you into a tight embrace.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to lean on him, to let the walls you’d built around yourself crumble. And as James held you, murmuring reassurances that you would face whatever came next together, you felt the smallest flicker of hope begin to bloom in your chest.

After you recovered, you faced the daunting task of telling Sirius and Remus. Their reactions were nothing like you’d expected. After weeks of being stuffed up in that dingy room.

Sirius, ever the one to surprise you, turned softer than you’d ever seen him. It reminded you of the day Lily announced she was pregnant with Harry. He was standing in the kitchen when you told him, fiddling with a mug of tea. The moment the words left your lips, his eyes widened, and he nearly dropped the mug onto the countertop. 

For a moment, you thought he might pass out, but then his face broke into a beaming smile that almost seemed out of place for the weight of what you’d just told him. “You’re joking,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. When you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes, he stepped forward, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly. “Merlin, you’re not joking.”

“I’m sorry,” You began, your voice cracking as the apology spilled from your lips. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, I-”

“Stop,” Sirius interrupted, his tone so warm it took you aback. He let go of your shoulders and instead pulled you into the tightest hug you’d ever received. “Don’t you dare apologize,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ll be a good mum, do you hear me? A bloody brilliant one.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you clung to him, his words washing over you like a balm. “But Sirius,” you tried again, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “The father-”

“I don’t care,” he said firmly, pulling back to look at you. His gray eyes were intense, but not with judgment- only love and determination. “I don’t care who he is, or what he’s done. This baby is going to have the best mum in the world. And they’re going to have me too, whether they like it or not.”

You let out a shaky laugh, his unwavering support lifting some of the weight off your chest. He grinned at you then, that mischievous, boyish grin you thought you’d lost after the war. “Merlin, James is going to lose his mind when he meets them,” He said, his voice laced with humor. “But I’m going to be the favorite uncle, just you wait.”

But then there was Remus.

You found Remus later in the sitting room, a book in his lap, though he wasn’t reading it. His eyes were distant, his fingers absently tracing the edges of the pages. He looked up when you entered, and the small smile he gave you faltered slightly when he caught sight of your expression.

“Remus,” you started hesitantly, sitting down on the sofa across from him. You fidgeted with your hands, unsure of how to begin. “There’s… something I need to tell you.”

He didn’t say anything, but the corner of his mouth quirked upward ever so slightly. His gaze flickered to your stomach for a moment, then back to your face. His expression was calm, almost amused, but there was a glint of something in his hazel eyes- something knowing.

“I-” you faltered, feeling suddenly uneasy under his gaze. “It’s… it’s important.”

He hummed softly, setting the book down on the armrest. “Go on, then,” He said, his tone light but laced with curiosity. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied you.

You took a deep breath, the words caught in your throat. “Remus, I-” You stopped when he lifted a finger to his nose and tapped it lightly, the gesture so quick and casual it took a moment to register.

You frowned, your heart skipping a beat as realization slowly dawned on you. “Remus,” you said again, your voice sharper this time. “You already know.”

His smirk grew slightly, the mischievous tilt of his lips catching you completely off guard. “I might,” he said nonchalantly, leaning back against the couch with an air of smugness. “Though it’s much more fun watching you squirm.”

You stared at him, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to process his words. “How?” You finally managed, your voice a mix of shock and disbelief. “How do you know?”

He shrugged, crossing one ankle over his knee. “It wasn’t hard to figure out,” he said casually, though there was a teasing lilt to his tone. “The scent changed a few days ago.”

“The scent?” You repeated, utterly baffled.

His smirk deepened, and he tapped his nose again, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. “Enhanced senses, remember? The subtle shifts, the hormones- it’s all there. Just like Lily. Didn’t think I’d notice?”

You stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. “You could smell that I was-?”

“Pregnant?” He finished for you, his tone softening slightly. Hearing Remus be the first to break- to finally say the word properly- it brought a smile to your face. “Yes.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning softly as the embarrassment washed over you. “Merlin, Remus, you could’ve said something!”

“And miss this moment?” He teased, leaning forward again. “Not a chance.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, narrowing your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“Only because I care,” he quipped, his smirk turning into a warm smile. He reached out, his hand resting gently on yours. “I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.”

His words melted some of the tension in your chest, and you let out a shaky laugh. “Well, I’m telling you now,” you said softly. “I’m… I’m having a baby.”

His smile grew, the teasing glint in his eyes giving way to something softer, something warmer. “I know,” he said simply, his voice steady and reassuring. “And you’re going to be amazing.”

Tears pricked at your eyes as his words settled over you, their sincerity hitting you squarely in the chest. “Thank you, Remus,” you whispered.

~~~

Even after everything, it was as smooth as it could possibly be. James, Lily, and Harry all finally packed up from their safe house and moved back into the Potter Manor. 

Sirius and Remus finally stopped torturing everyone and confessed to their little run around of affections. 

The years passed like a dream, each one carrying its own triumphs and heartaches. The war faded into history, though its scars remained etched into the lives of those who survived it. Life moved on, not always neatly, but with a resilience that surprised you.

Sirius and Remus opened a small library nestled on the corner of Diagon Alley and a quiet cobblestone street. It was cozy, with tall shelves of books that seemed to reach the ceiling, a perpetually warm fireplace, and a small reading nook tucked into the back. The name on the window read Padfoot and Moony’s Rare Reads, though it quickly became known simply as “The Den.”

Remus spent his days writing accurate, unbiased Defense Against the Dark Arts books, ones that became staples in Hogwarts classrooms. His name grew to rival even Gilderoy Lockhart’s (though, unlike Lockhart, Remus didn’t need embellishments to sell books). Sirius, of course, claimed full credit for every ounce of their success, though he spent more time charming patrons and hosting wildly popular storytelling nights than actually working.

Your daughter, Ophelia, was the light of your life. She had her fathers eyes- but carried a quiet intensity in her gaze that reminded you of a young girl you once knew. Sirius adored her, and James, ever the doting uncle, took it upon himself to teach her everything he could about Quidditch, much to Lily’s dismay. Harry, now only 6, had taken on a brotherly role, often sneaking her chocolates or helping her catch frogs in the garden when no one was looking.

But it was Remus who seemed to understand Ophelia in ways even you sometimes struggled to. He noticed the way she retreated into her own thoughts, the questions she asked that were far too insightful for her age. He never pushed her, always waiting patiently for her to come to him with her thoughts, her worries, or her triumphs. It was Remus who first noticed how much she loved books, spending hours reading to her in that steady, soothing voice of his.

One quiet afternoon, while Ophelia played on the rug with a stack of enchanted building blocks, you stood at the counter of the library, watching Remus as he worked on editing a draft of his latest book. The sunlight streamed through the windows, catching the streaks of silver in his hair, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” You said softly, your voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Remus looked up from his notes, his hazel eyes warm and curious. “What’s on your mind?”

You stepped closer, your hands resting lightly on the counter. “I wanted to ask if you’d consider being Ophelia’s godfather.”

His expression froze for a moment, his pen hovering above the page. Then, slowly, a smile broke across his face, wide and genuine in a way that made your chest ache with affection. “Are you serious?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Dead serious,” You teased lightly, though your voice trembled with emotion. “She adores you, Remus. And so do I. There’s no one else I’d trust more.”

He set his pen down and rose from his chair, crossing the short distance between you in a few strides. He hesitated for only a moment before pulling you into a tight, warm hug. “It would be an honor,” He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

~~~

It was late summer, and the warm golden light streaming through the windows of the Potter Manor made the room feel alive, even as you worked through the seemingly endless task of packing Ophelia’s trunk for another school year at Hogwarts. She sat nearby, perched on the edge of the armchair with her dark hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders, her head bent over her meticulously written list. 

She was elegant without trying, a quiet sort of grace that seemed inherent in her very being. Even now, as she frowned slightly at the parchment in her hands, the faintest furrow of her brow betrayed her focus; her fingers fiddling with the magpie necklace you gifted her on her eleventh birthday. You couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged at your lips as you watched her. She was so much her own person- intelligent, curious, and brimming with quiet determination- but in her moments of focus, you could see glimpses of her father in her too. It made your chest ache with a love so fierce it almost hurt.

“Mum,” She said finally, her voice gentle but tinged with that signature note of exasperation. She didn’t look up from her list as she spoke. “I told you- I need new potion vials. The ones from last year cracked.”

You folded one of her robes carefully and placed it into the trunk, glancing over at her with a soft chuckle. “And I told you, my love,” You hummed, your voice calm and warm, “that you’ll get them when we go to Diagon Alley. Harry and the Weasleys are meeting us there, remember?”

She let out a dramatic sigh, finally lifting her head to meet your gaze. Her sharp, inquisitive eyes- so much like his and yet so uniquely her own- sparkled with that combination of pride and determination that seemed to define her. “I don’t see why I can’t just go by myself,” She challenged, crossing her arms over her chest in that effortlessly regal way of hers. “I’m not a baby, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, the corners of your mouth lifting into a knowing smile. “You’re thirteen,” You countered gently, pausing in your task to give her your full attention. “And while I have no doubt that you could navigate the alley on your own, I’d prefer to keep you in one piece. Humor your mother, will you?”

Ophelia rolled her eyes dramatically, but the faint smile that tugged at her lips betrayed her. “Fine,” she relented, her tone light but tinged with mock indignation. “But only because you insist.”

You laughed softly, reaching over to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. “Thank you, darling,” you murmured, your voice soft with affection. “I don’t know what I’d do without you to keep me on my toes.”

She tilted her head slightly, her expression softening as she studied you. “Probably live a very peaceful, boring life,” She sighed in faux aspiration, her words playful but her tone warm. “No dramatic letters about professors or requests for obscure potion ingredients.”

“Don’t forget the long rants about Magic Theory,” You added with a smirk, resuming your task as you carefully folded another one of her robes. “I’d be lost without those.”

Ophelia gave a delicate shrug, her lips curving into a smile that was pure mischief. “Well, someone has to keep you informed,” She said lightly, glancing back down at her list. “You’d be dreadfully out of touch without me.”

“Perish the thought,” You mused, your tone laced with mock horror. But as you reached for another item to pack, you couldn’t help the warmth that bloomed in your chest. 

Despite her pride and sharp wit- or perhaps because of it- Ophelia had a heart so full of love and passion that it left you in awe. She was your miracle, your everything, and the reason you had fought so hard to build a life worth living after everything you’d endured. And though she sometimes tested your patience, you wouldn’t trade a single moment with her for the world.

As you worked together in companionable silence, the house around you buzzed faintly with the promise of the day ahead. Soon, the Floo Network would carry her off to join Harry and the Weasleys, and you would meet James and Lily later at the Leaky Cauldron. But for now, in this moment, it was just the two of you, and the quiet love you shared was enough to fill the room with light.

“Ophelia,” You called softly, breaking the silence as you tucked the last item into her trunk. She looked up at you, her expression curious. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

Her sharp features softened instantly, and she set her list aside, crossing the small space between you to wrap her arms around your waist. “Of course I do, Mum,” She murmured, her voice quiet but sure. “And I love you too.”

You held her close, your heart swelling with a love so fierce it threatened to overwhelm you. No matter how many years passed or how independent she became, she would always be your little girl. And in that moment, as the sunlight streamed through the windows and the world felt soft and safe, you were reminded once again of just how lucky you were to have her.

~~~

The cobbled streets of Diagon Alley buzzed with life, the chatter of families mingling with the clink of cauldrons and the rustle of shopping bags. Children darted between storefronts, their excitement infectious, while parents called after them, juggling lists and parcels. But Ophelia paid the lively scene no mind. She moved with purpose, her steps elegant yet determined, weaving through the crowd with a quiet confidence that belied her thirteen years. 

“Honestly, Harry, it’s just a bookstore,” she’d said earlier, rolling her eyes at her cousin’s protests. “I’ll be fine.” Her tone, a perfect blend of exasperation and poise, had left little room for argument. She’d dismissed him with a wave of her hand, her pride unwilling to entertain the notion that she needed an escort for something so trivial.

Now, her prize- a hefty tome on advanced magical theory- was clutched tightly under her arm, its worn leather cover radiating the promise of knowledge. She moved briskly, her dark hair swaying as she navigated the bustling street, her mind already racing ahead to the countless possibilities the book would unlock. The noise of the crowd seemed to fade as she glanced down at the book, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. 

It wasn’t just the content that thrilled her- though the promise of unraveling complex magical concepts certainly did- it was the independence of it all. She’d insisted on going alone, had chosen the book herself, and now, with it safely in hand, she felt a sense of accomplishment she wouldn’t admit to anyone. 

With her head held high and a quiet pride radiating from her, Ophelia turned her steps back toward the group, determined to reunite with Harry and the others before anyone could begin another lecture on responsibility. For now, though, the world felt bright, the possibilities endless, and she relished the brief moment of freedom.

That was when she heard it.

The cheerful hum of Diagon Alley faded into the background as a sharp, panicked cry reached Ophelia's ears. She froze mid-step, her heart skipping a beat as her gaze snapped toward a shadowy alley just ahead. The sound came again, muffled but unmistakably distressed. Her fingers instinctively tightened around the book she carried, and she shifted her weight forward, craning her neck to see.

In the dimness of the alley, two figures stood locked in a tense struggle. The taller one had the smaller pinned against the brick wall, his grip tight around the other’s collar. “You've got nerve, Pettigrew.” The smaller figure’s pale hair fell in messy strands across his face as he squirmed against the hold, his voice trembling. 

“Please,” the blonde figure gasped, desperation lacing every syllable. “I’m sorry! I won’t look for you again. H-he won’t hear of your escape- not from me!”

Ophelia’s breath hitched. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she took in the scene. The smaller figure’s voice cracked with panic, his pale blue eyes wide and darting frantically. The taller figure, shrouded in shadows, stood silent and imposing, his wand raised. A faint, menacing glow illuminated the tip, the threat unmistakable.

She didn’t think. She didn’t pause. Her wand was in her hand in an instant, and she stepped into the mouth of the alley, her voice cutting through the tense air like a blade.

“Oi! Let him go!” She shouted, her tone sharp and commanding. 

Both figures froze, their heads snapping toward her. The taller man’s wand lowered slightly, his body going rigid with hesitation. The smaller figure twisted his neck, his gaze locking onto hers, and for a fleeting moment, Ophelia saw a flash of something in his pale eyes- hope? Relief?

It didn’t last. 

The blonde man’s lips parted, and before she could speak again, his body jerked unnaturally. The sound of cracking bones and tearing sinew filled the air, a grotesque symphony of transformation. Ophelia’s stomach churned as she watched the man’s form contort, shrinking and twisting. Within seconds, he was gone, replaced by a scruffy, dirt-streaked rat.

“What the- ?” The words barely escaped her lips before the rat lunged forward, its sharp teeth sinking into the taller man’s hand. 

The man let out a hiss of pain, his grip faltering just enough to allow the rat to squirm free. In a blur of motion, it darted down the alley, disappearing into the shadows with a faint, scuttling sound. 

Ophelia stood rooted to the spot, her wand trembling slightly in her grasp. Her wide eyes flicked from the spot where the rat had vanished to the man now turning toward her, his movements deliberate, his frustration radiating like heat. 

As he stepped into the dim light filtering from the street, his features came into view. Sharp, angular lines carved a face that was both striking and unsettling. His dark hair fell messily across his brow, and his green eyes burned with a mixture of irritation and something else- something far more dangerous.

Ophelia squared her shoulders, her heart thundering in her chest but her chin lifting in defiance. She clutched her wand tightly, the poised elegance of her posture belying the unease bubbling beneath the surface. Every lesson her mother had taught her about composure echoed in her mind, steeling her nerves.

“Who do you think you are?” she demanded, her voice cold and cutting. “Picking on someone smaller than you in an alley? How pathetic.”

The man’s lips quirked into something that might have been a smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He took a step closer, his tall frame casting an intimidating shadow. “And who,” he said, his voice low and measured, “do you think you are to interrupt something that doesn’t concern you?”

“I’m the girl who’s about to hex you into next week,” she shot back without missing a beat, her wand steady as she pointed it at his chest. “Back off, or you’ll find out just how much trouble a thirteen-year-old can cause.”

The man hesitated, his head tilting slightly as he studied her. His gaze dropped from her face to her neck, and his sharp eyes narrowed, honing in on the small magpie charm resting just above her collarbone. The faint light caught the delicate metal, and for a moment, his composure faltered.

“That,” he murmured, his voice strained, “isn’t yours.”

Ophelia’s brows furrowed, her hand instinctively rising to the charm. Her fingers brushed over the familiar metal as her mind raced. “What’s it to you?” she retorted, her tone sharp, her grip on her wand unwavering. “It was a gift.”

The man’s jaw tightened, and for a fleeting moment, something flickered across his face- recognition, anger, and a hint of something she couldn’t quite place. “Who gave it to you?” he demanded, his voice rougher now, almost desperate.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she straightened her spine, her wand tip glowing faintly as she met his intensity head-on. “That’s none of your business,” she said firmly. 

He took another step forward, his green eyes blazing with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “I’ll ask you again,” he growled, his voice a dangerous whisper. “Who gave you that charm?”

Ophelia didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her chin higher, defiance sparking in her gaze. “My mom,” she said clearly, her voice carrying an unmistakable note of pride. Her lips curved into a faint, deliberate smile as she added, “You should know her. I’m a Potter, after all.”

The man froze. His entire body stiffened, his green eyes widening ever so slightly before narrowing again. Something shifted in his expression, a mixture of shock, pain, and anger that he quickly tried to mask. He stared at her as though he were seeing a ghost.

Ophelia arched an eyebrow, her confidence swelling as she saw the cracks in his composure. “Oh,” she said lightly, her tone dripping with mock disappointment, “don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about us. That would be awfully sad- we are war heros.”

The man’s lips pressed into a thin line, his hands twitching at his sides. He took a small step back, his expression unreadable as he muttered, “A Potter.”

“That’s right,” she said evenly, her wand still raised. “And unless you’d like to explain what you’re doing lurking in alleys, I suggest you leave.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he turned sharply on his heel and disappeared into the shadows without another word, leaving Ophelia standing in the mouth of the alley, her chest heaving as she tried to steady her breath.

She glanced down at the charm again, her fingers brushing over its surface. Who was that man? she wondered, a faint chill creeping down her spine. And why did the sight of this charm seem to haunt him so?

~~~

The Leaky Cauldron buzzed with its usual chatter, the comforting scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread drifting through the warm air. You sat at a large table with James, Lily, Sirius, and Remus, laughing at one of Sirius’s over-the-top tales from Hogwarts. The lightness in the room felt like a rare and precious gift, a momentary escape from the shadow of battles fought and sacrifices endured.

The door swung open with a sharp creak, a gust of cool air sweeping in as Harry entered with Ron, Ginny, and Ophelia. Their cheeks were flushed from the bustling streets outside, their movements slightly hurried. Your gaze instinctively fell on Ophelia. 

Something was wrong.

She lingered behind the others, her usual confident stride replaced with hesitant steps. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, as though trying to shield herself from the world. Her sharp features looked drawn, pale, and etched with unease. 

“Oi, there they are!” Sirius called out, raising a hand in greeting. “Took you long enough. Did you stop for ice cream?”

Ron mumbled something about Fred and George dragging them into Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, but his words barely registered. Your focus stayed fixed on Ophelia as she slipped into the seat beside you. She didn’t look up, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her cloak, her head bowed like she was trying to disappear.

“Ophelia, love,” you said gently, leaning closer to her. “Everything alright?”

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she said nothing. She just sat there, her hand brushing against the magpie charm around her neck. It was a small, almost subconscious motion, but it spoke volumes.

“Yeah,” she murmured after a pause, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her. “I’m fine.”

You frowned, your worry deepening. She was many things- brilliant, fiery, and determined- but never this quiet. You reached into your bag, pulling out a few Galleons, and slid them toward Harry, Ron, and Ginny. “Why don’t you three grab some ice cream for real this time? My treat.”

The three exchanged uncertain glances, but Ron was the first to shrug and stand. Harry hesitated, his concerned gaze darting toward his cousin, but eventually, he and Ginny followed Ron out of the pub.

The second they were gone, you turned back to Ophelia. “You don’t look fine,” you pressed softly. “What happened?”

Across the table, James and Lily shared a look, their worry mirrored in their expressions. Sirius, his usual joviality replaced with quiet intensity, leaned back in his chair, studying Ophelia closely. Even Remus put down his cup of tea, his sharp gaze focused on her.

Ophelia’s fingers twisted together in her lap, her head ducked low. “It’s nothing,” she muttered, her voice barely audible.

“Ophelia,” you said again, your tone a little firmer this time. “You can tell me. Whatever it is, I’m here.”

For a moment, she stayed quiet, the tension in her shoulders radiating like a pulse. Then, in a gesture so small it almost went unnoticed, she leaned into you. Her head rested against your arm, her nose pressing into the fabric of your sleeve. 

You froze for half a second before wrapping an arm around her, pulling her close. She didn’t cry- Ophelia never cried- but the way she clung to you spoke louder than words.  “Mom.” She muffled against your side. As if recharging her spent bravado and bravery in your arms. “Do we know a Pettigrew?”

[hazelfoureyes]

The Big Part

Alastor x Virgin FemReader smut

Part 2 Part 3

You were dead, it was time to divest yourself of your virginity. When you ask Alastor, he takes to the task immediately. Unfortunately, he seems to enjoy surprising you.

warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader smut, Alastor dislikes getting naked, virginity does not rock, possessive Alastor, head pats, reader is an adult she’s just a nervous idiot bad at words

Horny little deer cult: @frompeach , @chirimeimei , @poppingaround , @polytheatrix , @itsmskeisha , @stygianoir , @celestial-vomit , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @amurtan

minors dni, this isn’t educational in the slightest and is just straight smut

It made sense, at the time. You didn’t want a relationship and you didn’t want to meet a stranger you couldn’t trust, that left very few people to ask. Husk would say no, and probably stop serving you drinks. Angel would most likely agree, but you were a little intimidated by his experience. That left Alastor. While you hadn’t spent much time together, your interactions were always cordial. And plus, this was hell. Isn’t this kind of situation a sinners dream come true?

For most, maybe. But you didn’t know Alastor. Not yet, not really. Everything he did had some ulterior motive. Perhaps nothing he had ever done was simply selfless. If Alastor wasn’t gaining something, Alastor wasn’t interested.

You caught him in the hallway one evening after redemption-oriented activities, deciding to get the moment over with as quickly as possible.

“It’s a favor, little… odd. But you’re the only person I have to ask.” Your eyes darted around his face, down the hall, up the walls, anywhere really but his eyes.

“I’m all ears!” Alastor tapped the microphone to the ground with a satisfying ‘thud’.

Oh— you had rehearsed this but you hadn’t prepared to be staring at that large, toothy grin. It wasn’t unsettling, it was just distracting. Would he be smiling the entire time he… ya know.

“I am,” you steepled your hands, pointing them at him, “a virgin.” You paused, hoping maybe he’d just infer the rest and you could stop talking.

His face was motionless save his eyelids rising up.

“And I don’t want to be. Anymore.” Your lips pursed together. C’mon, Alastor. Figure it out.

Alastor nodded.

You dragged your fingers down your face, “Would you help me with that?”

His head cocked to the side like a golden retriever being handed a book on ancient Egypt. Very nice offer but what exactly do I do with it?

“Help how, precisely?” He finally spoke, tone unchanged from any normal topic of discussion. Alastor watched your face scrunch up, mouth moving around words you abandoned half way through. You weren’t saying anything, just making panicked sounds. “I find annunciation most helpful when wanting to be understood, dear.”

You wanted to somersault out the nearest window. “Alastor will you take my virginity?”

“Take it where?”

You groaned, he laughed, “Just kidding, my dear! All in good fun. So, to be clear, you would like your first sexual experience to be with me?” He pointed the microphone from you to him.

You nodded, “Yes, please.”

His smile seemed to strain. Staring down at you, he tried to understand what your motivation was for this. But as he looked into your big, concerningly innocent eyes, he realized there was none. You really, simply, want him to be the first.

Ooh, as he thought it, he felt his pulse quicken in his lap. The first. A spot no one else could take. For the rest of your afterlife, he would always be the one who was first in you. A delicious thought. He could work with that.

“Are you free now?” He leaned down to your level.

“Oh. I wasn’t-,”

“Expecting immediacy? Perfect, the element of surprise has never failed me before.” His hand wrapped around your waist and drew you in to his chest, there was a rush of cold air over your skin before you felt yourself falling back.

It was soft, the room was dark, save for a small floor lamp in the corner. Your room, you realized.

“I didn’t know you knew my room number.”

“It’s my job to know everything about the hotel.” He said, tossing your shoes behind him. Was this happening now? Right now?

“I can do it, it’s, it’s fine.” You sat up and began undoing your pants. Alastor just standing there, watching. Smiling. Fuck, was it going to be this awkward the entire time? Should you say something? Touch him? You were lifting the hem of your shirt when you realized he was still fully dressed. “Are you going to take off your clothes?”

“Why would I do that?” Head lolled to the side.

You stopped mid-way through unhooking your bra, “Alastor you do know I was asking you to fuck me, right?”

He nodded. Maybe this was a mistake.

After taking off your bra, and finally your panties, you crawled to the top of your bed and drew your knees to your chest. Your feet hid your sex from view. Heart racing, but it wasn’t excitement, as you had anticipated. It was nerves. Would it hurt? Would you make a stupid face? What if he didn’t like the sounds you made? What if you regretted it after?

Alastor got on the bed on his knees, undoing his belt buckle but not his pants. The way he looked at you, your heart skipped a beat. You suddenly remembered he was called the ‘cannibal deer’ as you saw something akin to hunger in his eyes.

“What experience do you have?” His voice was suddenly low, deeper than before. This wasn’t the pun loving radio man you saw prodding the staff.

“I dated. Before. Kissing, um, I don’t know the bases. Groping?” You grimaced, it sounded so formal.

“Have you ever,” he began to slink toward you on his hands and knees, red eyes glowing in the dim light of your room, “been entered?”

Your cheeks burned, your head suddenly swayed as if it was half full of water and someone tipped you over. “Just myself, my,” you lifted your hand.

“Show me.”

All the air left the room, sucked out of your lungs and into his grin.

Uncrossing your feet, you tried to open your thighs without seperating your knees. It didn’t work, but you still managed to get a hand between your legs and to your entrance. You could have cried, you were soaking wet to an embarrassing degree. Your eyes return to Alastor, his gaze never leaving you. Even as you slipped a finger, then two, into yourself. You thought for sure he would want to watch your hands playing with your wet pussy but no, his eyes stayed on your face. Somehow, that was worse.

A shaky sigh escaped, your eyes closing as you tried to focus on relaxing around your digits.

Your head smacked against the headboard when you felt a third finger enter. Not yours. Your eyes flew back open to see him now directly in front of you.

“Two won’t do, dear.” He spun his finger around, pulling slightly at the thin skin of your entrance. “Unless you’d prefer this to hurt?”

You shook your head no, still stinging from the impact you had made. “May I?” His hand took your wrist and removing your fingers. Swiping your wetness from your ass to your clit, he coated his claw-like digits and pushed three back in. They were longer than yours, sharper. You could feel he moved gently, in and out. Your head was heavy, breath short and fast.

He laughed, bringing your consciousness fully back into the room, “Already wanting to change your mind?”

You shook your head side to side, still too embarrassed to speak, and took a grounding breath to help your body accept his fingers. He took his time, sliding in and out of you. His fingers picking up the slick and letting it lubricate your lips. It was so slow, the only pleasure for you was knowing it wasn’t your hand doing it.

But then his stretching of your hole stopped, and he grabbed both of your knees from underneath and pulled you down toward him. Now on your back, legs up and in his hands, you heard his belt slide through the loopholes, his zipper drop. You wanted to look, but you also absolutely did not want to look.

Your knees came together when you felt something hot and round at your entrance. “Ah-ah,” He opened them immediately. He reached for one of your hands, and brought it down to his cock. It was so hard under your fingers, but gave a little when you squeezed. It made him hiss.

“You tell me when to stop, little doe.” He pressed into your opening, pulled back. Pressed in, just barely making it past your lips, pulled back. He kept this pressing and pulling, head making slightly more leeway every time. Your fingers were holding right behind the tip.

“How about this, dear. I’ll just get the head in for now. Manageable!”

“Just— just get the big part in first?” You asked, the pressure at your entrance building with every shallow thrust.

He laughed, nodding as he held both of your knees further apart. When he attempted to get past the curve of his cock’s head, your hands flew down to press against his thigh, pushing back with the intrusion. Alastor stilled, sighed, and pressed his head fully in with a determined thrust. Instinctively, your feet came to his chest and tried to push away from him. It felt like you were being torn down the middle, your body forced apart at your most sensitive junction. He held you still now by the ankles, legs splayed in the air.

It burned where your walls were pushed aside. Stinging where the skin tore slightly just beneath your hole, unable to stretch.

“Breath, sweetheart.” He set your ankles down. “Does it hurt?”

You nodded.

“I’ll stay here for a bit,” he settled on his legs, looking down at where he was connected to you. Your pink little pussy looking positively overwhelmed by his cock. No one has ever been here before, and he could feel it. Your walls were pressing so hard against him his shaft was slightly curved from the force pushing his head out. You still had so much to take, there was so much more of you for him to explore. You tried to calm your breathing but your heart was racking against your sternum.

Hand reaching down again, you let your fingers count little paces from his core to yours. You knew the hardest part was over, but that didn’t bring much comfort as you felt how far you still had to go.

Alastor let his eyes wander away from your not-so-virgin cunt to your face. Your expression was twisted, not pained but clearly uncomfortable.

“How does it feel?” He asked, gesturing to your lap with a nod of his head.

“Full, so full.”

His cackle disheartened you, “Darling I am no where done filling you up.”

You clenched when he said it, earning a small groan from him. You were already too tight, when you spasmed on him it was nearly painful. There was more to do yet, more of you to claim as his. Just the tip of his cock was simply not enough.

His hips started moving again, the folds of his head pulling at the skin of your entrance but not actually crossing the barrier. He was gently rocking, barely making friction between you two. Your hand clawed at his knee, breath hitching. You let an airy moan slip, his head no longer an intrusion but something hot and melty barely rubbing your walls. It started to feel almost good.

Alastor’s cock was throbbing, his shaft touch-starved and desperate for the heat of your cunt. Your face was relaxing now, eyes blinking around new sensations. He wanted to see you experience more, more firsts and frighteningly foreign pleasures. He wanted to see you scared of how good he could make you feel. Alastor wanted you to never feel whole again without him buried balls deep in you.

“Can you take more?” His voice was like gravel, a radio static crackling in.

You met his eyes, glowing still in the dim light, wide and nearly frenzied in their dilation. His smile was practically beaming down at you.

“I don’t know.” You were scared to move forward, even though you wanted more.

“I don’t like liars.” A pop of electricity arcing at the end of his words. You pulled a pillow over your face, trying to hide from the reaction you knew he’d have as his voice made you tighten around him. “Your body says otherwise,” he hissed.

You wanted to say ‘yes’, if this could feel good then how great would all of him feel? But you were scared to vocalize it. Scared to make it start. Alastor lifted the pillow, “I need to see you, dear.” He set it beside his leg, “Do you remember what I said earlier?”

Brow furrowed, you shook your head. His grin widened to his ears as his hands slid down your thighs to your hips and he sank his cock to the hilt.

The element of surprise definitely made the nerves of saying ‘yes’ dissipate, but you were now choking on your breath, hands gripping at the blankets beneath you. Was this normal? Was he too far inside you? You felt nauseous, your guts prodded by Alastor’s member.

“How does it feel now?” He watched your eyes scanning the ceiling for an answer. You felt sure there was no way his head could leave you ever again. It was so snuggly fit in you, you feared you’d be pulled inside out. “Words, dear.”

You sat up on your elbows, sweating from the nerves of it all. “Like there’s a big stick stuck in me.”

“Accurate!” He laughed, and began pulling out. You whined, head dropping back. Almost taking himself out completely, he paused before thrusting back in. The head of his cock dragged against your walls, you could feel him with such detail. Every inch of him leaving impressions behind. Alastor could feel it too, how your soft warmth moved out of his way with every push. How pliable your womb was to his intrusions.

More. You could take more, he was positive of it.

Slowly, your moans began to get louder as the pressure faded into pleasure. Every time he bottomed out, you jumped. Every time he pulled out, you wanted to chase after him with your hips.

Watching your face soften, eyes now watery, Alastor was sure you were relaxed enough. He grabbed the pillow beside him, lifting your ass and sliding it under the small of your back. You didn’t ask, just waited to see what the point was. Dissatisfied, he grabbed another and added it under you.

Your hips were up, ass hanging over the ledge the pillows made, back bent upward. When he began to thrust again, you whinced feeling a new part of you widen for him. “Can you see me?” You looked at him when he said it, but he grabbed your hand and placed it beneath your belly button. When he pushed back in, you could feel his cock beneath your hand. Moving it, you watched your stomach bulge slightly when he was completely sheathed in you.

“Oh fuck-,” your head fell back into the bed, it was too much to feel let alone to watch, “Too deep.”

He hummed an acknowledgement, picking up his pace. “Let me see how you cum.”

Your face was hot, reluctantly bringing your hand to your clit and rubbing.

No, this wasn’t a mistake at all. If anything you regretted not asking sooner.

His thrusts now brought lightning to your core, your finger quickening in speed with the realization of just how good he could feel.

Studying your face still, he adjusted his angle until he saw the muscles in your neck tighten. He knew he found your g-spot, your moans dipping into cries.

“I can’t—,” You couldn’t get over the hump, knowing he was watching you, waiting for you.

“You can”, the lights flickered, his eyes now black with small red pupils illuminating your naked body, “and you will, my dear.” One of his hands stopped pressing finger sized bruises into your hips to instead push your own finger aside. The wide pad of his thumb took over and began thrumming you fast and hard.

That familiar build up of pleasure was stronger than you’d ever felt it, and when it finally snapped your muscles from your thighs to your toes cramped. How long had you been tensing?

You practically sobbed into the crook of your arm, Alastor’s hips slowing but still carrying you through your orgasm. They moved slower and slower, until stopping entirely. His head popped out of you, leaving you feeling hollow. Cold.

Eyes wet and blurry, you looked up at him, “Aren’t you going to finish?”

“If we do everything now, what ‘first’ will we have for tomorrow night? And the night after that?” He smiled, member already hidden away and pants buttoned. Your thighs twitched. “Same time tomorrow, little doe?”

You covered your face with both hands, and nodded.

His big hand came to your head and patted you gently, “Good girl.”

I hope you liked it 🥺 I don’t feel as confident about this one. Fun fact, my first time involved bondage. Very on brand, huh? 💖

༻Masterlist༺

Gonna start calling his dick ‘the element of surprise’. You look tired today! What happened? Oh the element of surprise kept me up all night.

[sevikasbooyahh]

𝐕𝐈 𝐇𝐂'𝐬

She’s the sweetest of sweet girls, I just wanna hug her >_<

Warnings: Intimacy but not anything explicit | set post season 2 |

A/N: Photos by Foggy Master on Pinterest

She’s never really had anyone to talk to about her problems, so she doesn’t. All her life she’s been protecting others, yet no one was able to do the same for her. She felt like a bother for any small thing she did and it would eat her alive. But after seeing how much you truly care, that you were willing to be there at her worst; she knew it was time.

Settling down is hard, she’s been fighting since she was a child, being able to finally live is something she never thought was possible.

She looked into the fireplace, watching small sparks fly out and disperse into the surrounding wood. A hand creeped onto her shoulder, it was yours, she’s always recognized it. Her head fell back onto your stomach as she looked up, seeing the face she loved so much. “You okay?” You leaned down to press a kiss on her forehead. She didn’t immediately give an answer, thinking back to the horrid events that took place in the war. The loss. Powder-blue eyes stared within yours, a thin lipped smile on her face. “No, it’ll take a while for me to be but…I will eventually.”

Is big on eye contact, especially when opening up. She’ll look you in the eye whenever you’re talking, doing remotely anything.

Loves to read; her favorite genre is fantasy or mystery. After she finishes a book, she’ll talk to you for hours about the entire thing.

“He couldn’t find her during like—the entire duration of the book but then suddenly she pops out at the end and it’s just so crazy! And then—“ she rambled on until her eyes saw your face. You were smiling, expression filled with nothing but adoration; you were listening. Not a single speckle of boredom present. “Then what else?” You tilted your head. A smile began to twitch at her lips before she continued on.

Gets creative with nicknames; anything food related, honestly. You were starting to think it’s because she’s hungry all the time but she has interesting reasons.

“You sure, cheesecake? I heard it’s—“”Wait, wait, what did you call me?” You interrupted her with a confused laugh. “Cheesecake? What’s wrong with it, you’re soft and sweet, like cheesecake.” She leaned her head on the palm of her hand. You simply shook your head at the her, “You sure have a way with words.”

One of the sweetest in a batch of bad people. She is not at all flawless, she’s made her mistakes, but her caring nature is undeniable.

When the two of you get intimate she’s always soft, can’t see her being rough or mean.

She placed light kisses on your neck, calloused hands gliding down your body. They felt rough, yet her motions were gentle—handling you like royalty. She worships you, from your head to your toes.

Absolutely touch starved, no arguements. Even if it’s the smallest touch from you, it’ll have her melting like ice cream on a sunny day.

Playing with her hair is an absolute must; your fingers smoothing over pink strands that’d stick up.

Gives the best hugs ever, she’ll squeeze you tight, wanting to provide security.

Occasionally drools in her sleep—imagine waking up and seeing it dribbling down her chin. It’s a sign that she’s comfortable.

[magical-reid]

In Another League

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 900

Setting: Beacon Hills High School, Season 2 Timeline

Summary: Stiles Stilinski, caught in his usual whirlwind of chaos and awkwardness, finds himself hopelessly smitten by you after you unknowingly rock his world by wearing his lacrosse jersey at the pep rally. In a moment of fate, you tease him with a casual compliment, leaving Stiles both flustered and hopeful that maybe, just maybe, you’re beginning to notice him too.

Stiles Stilinski was never subtle. It wasn’t in his nature. Where Scott McCall had his quiet confidence, Stiles had… well, everything else. The quick wit, the chaotic charm, the awkward stumbles—he was a walking open book of enthusiasm and panic. And right now, every single page of that book was consumed by one person: you.

You weren’t oblivious to his existence. How could you be, with Stiles’ constant flailing and frantic energy orbiting you like some hyperactive moon? But you… you just didn’t seem to care. Not the way he wanted you to, at least. Sure, you waved at him in the hallway sometimes, maybe smiled at one of his jokes when Scott dragged him into your circle during lunch. But you weren’t charmed. You weren’t invested. Not the way Stiles was.

Still, he didn’t stop. Couldn’t.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The Day of the Pep Assembly

Beacon Hills High was a mess of chatter and excitement as students buzzed about the annual pep rally. Lacrosse season was in full swing, and the team was undefeated so far. Coach Finstock, naturally, had decided this called for some mandatory team spirit. As part of the festivities, every girl on the cheer squad—and a handful of volunteers from the student body—was assigned a player’s jersey to wear during the rally.

Stiles had tried not to hope. Really, he had. He wasn’t even sure if you knew he existed half the time. The idea of you—Beacon Hills’ own lowkey legend of intellect and effortless charm—volunteering to wear a lacrosse jersey, his lacrosse jersey, seemed absurd.

And then you walked into the gym.

The chaos of the assembly faded to white noise as Stiles’ brain short-circuited. You were there, wearing his number—24—draped over you like it had always belonged to you. The oversized jersey hung loose on your frame, and you’d paired it with jeans and your usual casual confidence. It wasn’t even a big deal to you. You laughed at something a friend said, completely oblivious to the seismic event you’d just caused in Stiles’ chest.

He nudged Scott—hard. “Do you see that? Are you seeing this?”

Scott barely glanced up from where he was tying his shoe. “Seeing what?”

“Her! Y/N! She’s wearing my jersey. Mine!”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Stiles, because Coach assigned it to her. Don’t overthink it.”

“Overthink it? Scott, this is fate!” Stiles hissed, clutching his chest like the mere sight of you had delivered a fatal blow. “This is destiny in the form of polyester fabric!”

Scott gave him a look, the kind that said calm down before you hurt yourself, but Stiles didn’t care. All he could see was you, walking across the gym, completely unaware of the riot you’d started in his chest.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The Moment of Truth

The assembly kicked off with its usual fanfare—Coach yelling into a microphone, the team pretending to care, and the crowd half-heartedly clapping along. Stiles couldn’t focus on any of it. Not when you were sitting just a few rows ahead of him, your presence as dazzling as the sun.

You leaned over to whisper something to one of your friends, laughing softly, and Stiles swore he felt his heart physically ache. He was so busy staring—so utterly entranced—that he didn’t notice the nudge Scott gave him.

“Hey,” Scott whispered. “Go talk to her.”

Stiles froze. “What? No. I can’t just—are you insane?”

“You’re already staring at her like a creeper. Might as well say something.”

“Yeah, because ‘Hi, Y/N, I think about you every waking moment’ is such a great icebreaker,” Stiles muttered.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Just say something normal, man. Compliment her or something. Be cool.”

Cool. Right. Because Stiles Stilinski was the epitome of cool.

When the assembly ended, the crowd began to disperse, and you stood to leave with your friends. Stiles knew this was his chance—his only chance—but his feet felt rooted to the floor. He was about to chicken out when you turned around, catching him mid-panic.

“Hey, Stilinski.”

Stiles blinked. Had you… had you just addressed him? “Uh. Hi. Hey. Y/N. What’s… up?”

You smirked, tilting your head. “Nice jersey. You think it suits me?”

His brain short-circuited for the second time that day. “I—yeah. Totally. You look amazing. Not that you don’t always look amazing. I mean, you could wear a garbage bag and still be—”

You laughed, cutting off his ramble before he could fully combust. “Relax, Stiles. I’m just messing with you.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah. Totally relaxed,” he lied, every muscle in his body tense with the effort of not saying something embarrassing.

You gave him one last smile before turning to leave. “See you around, Stilinski.”

As you walked away, Stiles let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Scott clapped him on the back.

“Smooth,” Scott teased.

Stiles ignored him, too busy replaying the moment in his head. You’d talked to him. You’d smiled at him. And maybe—just maybe—you’d actually noticed him for the first time.

It wasn’t much, but for Stiles Stilinski, it was everything.

[monstersflashlight]

The commander's mate (part 1?)

A/N: Two SFW stories in a row, sorry, my brain is not really horny this week. That said, part 2 of this lil snippet everyone loved, enjoy!

Alien x fem!reader|| SFW, hurt/comfort || tw: kidnapping

"You are going to take the million and shut up if you don't want your brain blown for keeping a commander's mate imprisoned on a pet shop," he replied, his gun already out as your brain spiraled with the info he just let out.

What did he mean by “mate”? Did aliens talk in Australian lingo? You highly doubted that, and your brain was already scrambling to get a response. Maybe… Maybe your monsterfuckery books weren’t so wrong after all, maybe he was talking about that kind of mate. But that couldn’t be, could it? There was no way you got kidnapped from earth and thrown into a monster pet shop just for an alien to find you and claim you as his mate. That couldn’t be possible. Your life wasn’t like that…

It was a dream. That was it. Everything you just saw and experienced was a dream. You didn’t get kidnapped. You didn’t wake up on a pet cage with a very angry gobling-pet-store-owner screaming at you in a language you didn’t understand. Nope. A dream. That explained it. That explained everything.

You pinched your side and pressed your eyes shut tightly. Wake up, wake up, wake up… You repeated to yourself over and over.

A warm big hand touched your bicep and you almost shoot into the stratosphere when you jumped up, scared. You opened your eyes in a rush and found the alien staring back at you, his eyes tender. “Little human, it’s time to go.” His voice was a lot sweeter than before, equally deep, but soothing in a way.

Your scared brain couldn’t work properly and a thousand questions piled in the front of your mind, but the first that escaped your mouth was: “How do you know my language?” He didn’t have an accent, but you knew he didn’t learn English at school like you did.

He covered your hand with his much bigger one, he was crouching in front of the cage, but still towered over you by far. “I’ve been to earth many times, little human,” he explained. He was rubbing soothing circles over the back of your hand, and your body was slowly melting.

It ached, you ached, to be closer to him. But you denied yourself of that, you didn’t understand what your body was feeling, maybe it was Stockholm syndrome or something. Even if that syndrome was bullshit and he wasn’t the one who kidnap you.

“Why?” You asked. You didn’t exactly know about what you were asking, you only knew… need. Need like no other. To know. To meet. To touch. It was driving you slowly made not to be as close to him as possible. You crawled to him, and he helped you out of the cage, but you were still on the floor as he crunched next to you.

“Political affairs. I know your world leaders very well,” he said with a chuckle, his mouth tilting in something that (you hoped) was a try to smile but looked more like a grimace. That only answered part of your confusion, but at last it was something.

“Who are you?” You finally let out, your brain clearing enough to question him on the important part. Being closer to him made your mind clearer, and that should scare you. But it didn’t, you couldn’t be scared when he was so close.

“I am the commander of the intergalactic alliance,” he let out in a formal tone, just to go back to his shooting one when he added: “and I’m your mate, my lovely human.”

“Like the Australians?” You asked, trying to make sense of something.

He laughed, throwing his head back and arching his neck in a way that made your mouth water to bite him. Where the fuck did that thought come from? You stepped closer, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat emanating from his colorful skin.

“No, little human. Not like the Australians,” and that was everything he said as he took your hand, and helped you up, leading you away from the creepy monster pet shop.

[sweetfictionalworld]

The Deal - Chapter 2

Pairing: Hwang In-Ho/ The Front Man x Female Reader

Story Summary: You get suspicious of Player 001 and confront him. That decision leads to a deal that will change the fate of your life forever.

Chapter Summary: Conversation with the enemy.

Warnings: None for this chapter. NSFW warnings will be added in future chapters.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

In-Ho had left to join the players, he couldn't be gone for long to risk someone wondering about him. You didn't really know what to do, so you turned on the big screen in front of the armchair. Your stomach churned when you saw what was on. The next game. So, this is how In-Ho liked to entertain himself? Watching people get murdered? You felt sick just thinking about it.

You turned it off and started examining the room. There wasn't much there, but you did find some books to read and a bathroom. Well, thank God for that. At least now, you didn't have to wait for permission every time you needed to use the restroom.

You didn't know how much time had went by when the door opened and a guard with a square on his mask walked inside. He was carrying a black box with a pink bow on it. Your pulse quickened as flashes of the dead players being put into boxes went through your mind.

"The Front Man wants you to take a shower and then put this on," the guard said and handed you the box.

The Front Man? So that was what they called him?

You took the box out of the guard's hand and he left without another word. You looked down at the box with curiosity and carefully took off the lid. Your eyes widened as you took out the gorgeous, golden silk dress and a matching pair of high heels. The dress was ankle long with thin straps and an open back. At the bottom of the box, there was a pair of golden silk thongs to match the dress. Wow...and he even had all of your sizes right.

The warm water on your skin felt rejuvenating. It almost melted away all your thoughts and emotions you'd experienced since you'd woken up in the bunk bed.

You looked at the stranger looking back at you in the mirror. Where was the joyful person from a year ago? Before your husband died and left you with all his debts you couldn’t possibly pay, debts he hadn't even told you about. Fuck, you hated him for that. You sighed and slid the thong up your hips, and shimmied into the dress, let the soft material glide down your body. You ran your fingers through your wet hair, wishing you had a hairbrush. You slipped into the high heels and made a grimace. You'd never been a fan of them.

There was a set table waiting for you outside, with lit candle lights and a beautiful bouquet of flowers in the center. What was this? You took a few steps forward and that's when you saw In-Ho standing at a bar counter, opening a bottle of wine. He looked up, his eyes twinkling up with interest when he saw you, his gaze slowly taking in your appearance with appreciation. He put down the bottle and approached you with a confident gait. You could feel your heart racing and your breath hitching from his closeness as he stood before you, and his gloved fingers slowly running up your bare arm.

"You look exquisite, y/n," he said in a hushed tone as his gaze followed the trail of his fingers. The mix of his deep voice and touch sent a jolt of arousal through your core and settled between your legs. Fuck, you didn't want to feel this way about this man. You despised everything he was doing here and hated your body for reacting this way.

In-Ho's lips curved up into a smirk and you knew. You knew he knew exactly how your body was reacting to him. Well, fuck him. He wasn't going to have the higher ground here. So, you held your head high and looked him straight in the eyes.

"If you're trying to woo me with a candle light dinner, it won't work. I might have agreed to give you my body, but you will never have my soul."

In-Ho only smirked wider in return and you hated him more.

"Please sit down, y/n. Dinner will be served soon," In-Ho said and smirked at the glare you gave him. Oh, he would have so much fun with you.

You hated to admit how good it felt to get a real meal of food in your stomach. And the red wine...you rolled it in your mouth, taking in every detailed taste of it. It was delicious.

"So, how did your husband come to have such high debts?" In-Ho asked and took a sip of his wine while fixing his gaze on you.

You looked at him, surprised by his question.

"Uhm...well, you know. The usual stuff. Addiction to gambling, spending money he didn't have. That sort of thing."

In-Ho nodded in acknowledgement.

"What about you? How did you become...this?" you asked, motioning to his appearance.

In-Ho smiled. "You know, I was once the winner of the game."

You almost choked on your wine and stared at him in disbelief.

"Really?"

In-Ho nodded. "I needed the money for my sick wife. But in the end, it didn't matter. My wife died, and I had nothing to live for out there anymore. So they offered me to be the overseer of the games."

"They?"

"The one who created the game."

"Why are you telling me all of this? Your name, your backstory."

In-Ho shrugged his shoulders. "I guess...It feels good to have someone to talk to again."

You studied his face, every beautifully carved feature, and you could see the sadness written in them, but also the longing for something more. Perhaps, deep in his heart, he didn't want to be this cold, ruthless person.

"Well, It seems like I'm not going anywhere, so you can talk as long as you like," you said in a joking tone and smiled at him, trying to lighten the heaviness of the situation you were in.

In-Ho looked at you and smiled back, and the soft chuckle coming from his mouth warmed the inside of your chest in ways you didn't want it too.

~ to be continued...

[kisses4reid]

convenient | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - studying while working at a convenience store is easier that thought when a regular happens to be a genius.

genre - fluff, fem!college!reader x earlyseasons!spencer

warnings - school work, that always scares me. they’re the same age!!! early 20s. mention of condoms.

edit - bc this is getting so much love, i’m opening a taglist for part 2!!! just comment or put in a req to join the ‘convenient’ taglist 🫶

the chime of the door didn’t phase you, the creaks and squeaks of the store slowly becoming one with you. flipping onto the next page of your biology textbook, something that was unnecessarily expensive, you shake your hand to get rid of the cramp you slowly became aware of.

it was only when a wave of man’s cologne and a plastic bag stood in front of you that you ripped your eyes off of your books.

he was tall, skinny, had long(ish) hair and looked amazing. there wasn’t really anything else to say, other than that the thin smile he displayed toward you made you smile back.

“just these for today?” you ask, fixing your posture and pushing some loose strands back to their place behind your ears.

“yes, thank you.” he says, voice as timid as his appearance. it was a bag of apples, a 2 minute bolognese container, and a bag of coffee. you scan them, weigh the apples, and watch him as his long fingers slip through his wallet to find a debit card. “have a good night.”

your eyes return to your textbook as you go to erase an answer you had previous written, obviously wrong.

“the heads of the phospholipid bilayer are hydrophilic, not phobic.” he says. it surprised you, making you return to his gaze slowly before realising you should probably reply instead of staring at the man.

“oh- yeah, thanks. i caught that it’s just, i guess i’ve been staring at the same words for so long i can’t differentiate them.” you give a small fake laugh as he nods, giving you a long look before coughing and leaving promptly. he leaves with his bag, and his hands fiddling with each other.

you can barely focus after that. customers come and go, and although you’ve only been doing the late shift for a week, this encounter with the unknown man couldn’t leave your mind. the way he dressed, his smell, his voice and how he corrected you (which would totally annoy you usually). you hoped he would return.

and he did. three days later, this time even later than the last.

you were stuck in a dark purple sweater, the aircon in the store blasting cold air that you were too lazy to fix. and although the air flipped pages of notes and questions, you were still stuck in a trance.

the blasting aircon blew a wind of mens cologne this time, it smelt like wood. your eyes glanced up from your books and trailed the familiar man, noticing how he was reusing the plastic bag from days before.

he returned to the checkout with apples, a 3 minute cannelloni, and a bag of coffee. he was now the one trailing you, “where did Latrice go?” you look up, chuckling a bit,

“Latrice is getting paid by her daughter-in-law to babysit the twins,” you reply, surprised you were willing to tell him so much information. he could be a stalker for all you know. or just a regular, obviously that’s way more likely. “trust me, i miss her as much as you do. $14.98.”

he nodded with a small smile and sliced his card down the side of the card reader.

you searched for him now, only after two encounters you were already craving some sort of human interaction at work. usually you avoided it since the only other ‘regulars’ were old men and mean teenagers. you had switched to writing a biology report on your computer, the sound of the keyboard almost covering the sound of the door bell.

a bag of apples, a 2 minute lasagne, a bag of coffee, and a banana muffin.

“big night?”

“uh- what?”

“you got a banana muffin. i thought you were starting to become predictable.” you bagged his things as he chuckled, looking over you and your laptop. you noticed only because you were also looking at him, “biology report. wanna read it?” you joked, but he didn’t catch that part.

now he was behind the register, sat on your wheelie stool reading and editing your report while walking you through everything he was changing. you didn’t understand most, but you were just happy to stay around him. you weren’t even scared of Old Alan, the guy who only buys cucumbers and condoms. nobodies ever asked him, don’t think anyone wants to know.

“what’s your word limit?”

“3500.”

“only 3500?” he gave you a raised eyebrow, voice getting slightly higher. he coughed, “sorry, that’s nearly impossible.”

you sigh, “i know… i’m y/n by the way. thought you should know who your helping cheat.”

“i’m not helping you cheat, i’m just… editing,” he hit backspace a few times with a lowered bottom lip, “my names spencer.”

you smiled and crossed your arms as you leaned against the counter. spencer. yeah, that sounded nerdy enough.

pt. 2

[yaut-jaknowit]

Thinking about 'Galactic order brides' lol

Starts off as messages, pictures then meeting and marriage? Me full of giggles thinking about some bad ass yautja male who's highly respected but wants a soft little human to warm his bed and have his pups. (A dream 🩷)

Strangers

Pairings: T'a'yta (Male Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 8674

Summary: With T’a’yta, reader was recommended by a friend to contact him. It started off small. Messages. Then it turned to pictures and facetime, then finally meeting. When you meet him, he’s thick and hulking beast. For such a big creature, he was soft.

Author Note: Okay, I may have a bit more indulgent on my end. I hope that’s okay! I really loved this idea even though I’ve never read those books before.

Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist

Ao3

In an office job, nothing much happens. You are used to the ins and outs that happen every single day. It’s always the same old, same old thing. You crave for something different, a different scene in your life. Then, the opportunity came.

Ze’se heard about your cry for help, this need for something or… someone in your life. Anything for a change.

“Oh, tots, he’s a doll. Super sweet. A lovable hunk, I promise you that, love,” Ze’se raves about and sends the contact information to you. She has her wrist flopped over in front of you with a knowing look on her alien features. The Yautja was a dark yellow, like spicy mustard. “He’ll see you and wanna take you home in an instant. A lot of the folks that I know wanna. But I know he will take care of you.”

A bright smile eased your features. “Thanks, Ze. I owe you one.” You greatly appreciated her help. Without her, a lot of things in your life wouldn’t be where they are right now.

The towering female Yautja barked a laugh then pulled you flush into her torso with a single hand. “Nah, sweetheart. You don’t owe me a thing. You deserve happiness and a hunk like himself will give you plenty. You know the whole shebang with how males woo us females. I have to fight them off of you when you come visit me.” Heat rushed to your cheeks. She lets you go. Your head is craned further back to find her dark green eyes.

You couldn’t stop from rolling your eyes and a huff. It seemed that way when you would visit her on her mothership. A lot of the males did look at you, nearly oogling you from a safe distance away. Ze’se didn’t let you walk the ship alone. There is controversy about oomans still within some clans. Unfortunately, hers included. That didn’t stop you from making great friends with her.

Some of those males look at you some sort of meat. You were thankful Ze’se always meets you at the docking entrance. If you want to go somewhere, she’s attached to your hip.

“Is he part of your clan?” you asked, needing to know if he was like many of her clanmates. Meaning, to be mindful of how to act around him. You trusted her and knew she wouldn’t put you in harms way. That didn’t stop you from being cautious and mindful at the same time. It wouldn’t hurt. Yautjas and oomans will forever have their differences.

She shook her massive, dome head. “Nope. I know him from a hunt a few years back. Kept in contact with him since then. If I was looking for a permanent mate, he would be first on my list. A recently turned elder. Plenty of scars.” She wiggled her brows at you. “Big muscles. Sweet talker. Great in bed.” At this point, you shouldn’t be surprised. Your eyes jumped open. “That male knows how to please, let me tell you that.”

A groan left your throat as you pushed away from her. The dark mustard yellow Yautja laughed and snorted. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing. Mostly. But like I was saying. Great male. He’s got lots of good offspring. High on the pole. His name is well out there, even on Yautja Prime. If you want to be cared for and pampered, I can see him taking that roll. I should know.” You dragged a hand down your heated face. God, this woman was going to be the death of you.

This is what you loved about your relationship with Ze’se, the easy going with her. “Okay, okay! I understand. He knows how to fuck. I get it!” Another groan. She giggled again and pushed against your shoulder.

“You’ll know soon enough. He’ll… oh, what’s that saying? Wine and dine you to the fullest before he’ll-“ You reached up and clamped your hands over her moving mandibles. Anything to get her to stop talking about sex! Right in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Ze! I sweat to everything unholy. Please, I get it. He’s good. I got it. I think everyone on this street knows how good he is!” you scold her and while pleading with her to stop talking about that. Some heads turned your way but they all kept going their own path. Thankfully.

Both of her upper mandible quirked up. “Eheh, good. I’m glad. You have the info. I’ll get out of your hair and let you have some special time with him.” She rubbed her temple against yours. You smiled at the gesture and watched her spin on her heel. Ze’se struts away from you, hips swaying with each step. It gathered a lot of attention from the surrounding people. A move you knew was purposeful.

With a roll of your eyes, you turn around as well. The day was getting late. After a long day of work, all you wanted was to go home and rest. The resting would have to wait. You would shoot this new Yautja a text before falling asleep. In the morning, you get to see what his response is. You really hoped Ze’se was right about this guy. There has been something missing from your life. Maybe it was someone special, that’s all you need.

Once the front door was closed and locked, shoes came off. Your keys were hung up on the rack. The warm atmosphere of your apartment greeted you like any other day. You strolled in and head towards your bedroom for a change of clothes.

Your work clothes had been replaced with a comfortable pair of shorts and a oversized shirt. Then, you collapsed onto the bed, arms spread wide. Today had been eventful. Not only from Ze’se, but from the amount of work they put onto you. Ze’se, bless her heart, has tried countless times to get you to come onto the mothership with her. Become a hunter like herself. But, you liked your room, your job, the comfort of humanness. There’s none of that on their ships or even their home planet.

It's always kill or be killed. You weren’t about that life.

But… with the way that Ze’se explicitly talked about T’a’yta, he was different. To pamper you? God, you could only wish for that. For a man to kneel before you was a wish come true. You really hoped he was somewhat like that. Not like the other ravenous males you’ve seen up close and personal. Far too many time to count.

You took out your phone and stared at the few notifications on the screen. Nothing of importance. Ze’se had sent his contact number. You saved it as a contact then went to the section to message.

And that’s where you faltered. You didn’t know how to start the message. Oh my god, you didn’t know how to text a random guy! Were you this hopeless?! You thumped your head against the bed with a groan. It had to be simple. Introduce yourself, ask about the weather, tell him stuff.

Yeah… you were hopeless.

An entire hour passes by. Text box was empty. You’ve tried to type out quirky greetings, polite ones, even just a simple introduction and who gave you his number. Each time, you’s quickly gone back. The main reason you think you’re struggling was you didn’t know him. You didn’t know his personality. If he likes funny jokes or something serious. All you got was his name and how well he was in bed.

A sigh of defeat left you. How could you advocate for yourself? How can you even put yourself out there for him? Male Yautjas like a confident female? All the females know their worth is high. They strut their stuff. And here you were, mauling over how to send a greeting to him.

In frustration, you thumped the edge of your phone against your forehead. You took in a few deep breaths before typing out a simple introduction and that Ze’se gave you his number. Then, you told him you were interested in getting to know him. You sent it. No regrets. You swallowed hard. Okay, maybe a little regret.

Before you could get overwhelmed, your phone buzzed. The screen lit up. You jolted out of your thoughts to look at the screen. T’a’yta had messaged back. Holy shit, that was quick.

“It’s good to finally hear from you. Ze’se has not stopped talking about you. I, too, would be interested to getting to know you,” T’a’yta messaged. You flipped onto your stomach and squealed, legs kicking the bed. This was finally your chance. With the phone, you could have tons of confidence compared to in personal.

From there, the two of you texted far into the night. Despite the knowledge of having work in the morning, you continued to text. This was an opportunity you weren’t going to pass up. A hunk of a Yautja to bend over backwards for your needs. Okay, that sounds bad. All you want is to be cared for. Is that a bad thing?

Right off the bat, the two of you were chatting. You started off by talking about your hobbies. What you liked to do in your free time. You hoped it interested him. The hobbies maybe boring but they made up you. What made it all the better was him digging further into those said hobbies. He wanted to know more about. He wanted to find out what made you tick from the inside out. You were giddy like a school kid with their crush. But after so long without a lick of luck in this vast universe, you could say you were desperate. Could you be blamed though?

When it came to his turn about hobbies, he didn’t jump straight in the stereotypical hunting for Yautjas. You felt a little bad about thinking he would only talk about that.

One of his favorites was watching nature. That seem similar to hunting. But, he appreciates nature at his core. He maybe a hunter but he is more than a trophy hunter. Another thing he enjoys doing is visiting museums, mainly human museums. He wants to know more about humans – or oomans. T’a’yta likes history. He likes learning. Even in his older age, he acts like a sponge. There is no one who knows everything. There is always something to be learned. Even to the ancients in his cultural.

You glanced at the time and gasped. There was only four hours before you had to report back to work. That meant less than three hours for sleep. Worst of all, you didn’t to stop. The talking, er messaging, had gone so well. You felt bad when you texted him you had to go to bed. Or else you might lose your job in the morning.

That’s when you got to see a glimpse of what Ze’se was referring to this entire time.

“If you lose your job, you can always come and stay with me.” My god. The butterflies in your stomach went wild. Ze’se maybe crazy but, you glad she wasn’t lying about his innuendos.

Of course, you had to fire back with something of the same line. “Is that an offer?” If he was already willing to take care of you right from the get-go, you were falling in love. He’s such a sweet talker.

 “I would love to take care of such an adorable thing such as yourself.” He was so cheeky! Your cheeks were heated with the fire that raced through your veins. Your thumbs shook, unable to type out a message quick enough. “Have I flustered the sweet, little human?” A shaky breath passed your dry, cracked lips. You were in it now.

It’s like he could see through the screen and read your expressions. You lowered your head and pressed it against the screen for a moment.

When your phone buzzed again, you lifted up your head, eyes snapping open at the message. “Paya, I wish I could see the look on your face. Since you can’t answer me. You clearly are a fluster mess. I would love to know what my words could do to you in person.” You may have never heard his voice before but you knew that last part was meant as a growl.

Still, you didn’t know the proper response was. The time above the messages screaming at you to go to bed. You ran a hand through your hair before finally finding words. “Maybe one day we can. I’d be more than happy to see the effect too. Good night!” The phone was tossed off to the side. You screamed into the mattress and kicked the bed.

That was a cringy way to end the conversation, but you couldn’t handle it anymore. The texting should’ve kept you safe, a nice façade since he can’t see you. Clearly, that had failed. He still got to you.

Now, you were more desperate to talk to him. There wasn’t time left in the night though. With one more glance at your phone, you got settled down in bed to get whatever sleep you could make up.

For a few weeks after that, every moment you had free, the two of you texted each other. Fleeting seconds while at work to pull out your phone and shoot a message back to him. Anything to keep him on the hook. You were really liking him so far. All green flags.

On one night, you became a little risky. For the occasion, you decided to dress up. You put on all the gimmicks to look as presentable as possible. The best clothing was pulled from the back of your closet and thrown on. A little dolling up had you picture perfect.

In front of a mirror, you put on a small pose with a smile to brighten your features. The picture was snapped. You were swift to send it to him before you could decide to back out. From there, you sat down on the couch, still dressed up, and played on your phone.

It was less than a minute when you got a response back. “By Paya’s name, you looked wonderful, little one.” You squealed and loudly cheered to yourself for getting another win. Both of your fists pumped into the air. It was working. You were actually getting a guy to be interested with you. And, he was staying interested in you.

“I think it’s your turn.” And boy, aren’t you glad you asked for a picture of him in return.

You must have caught him in the middle of hunt. The fact he was letting himself be distracted by you while hunting was another thing you’ll think about later. He took it from an angle looking down at himself. Condensation built up on his dusty brown scales. He looked to be panting, mandibles flared wider to allow the extra air into his lungs. Like any other Yautja, he was built strong. But, like Ze’se had mentioned, he was bulky, a hunk of muscles. He could easily lift you up.

Your bottom lip was caught between your dull teeth. The taste of blood flared on your tastebuds but you didn’t care. Your eyes roamed over the picture far too many times to be respectful. This made you no better than a dog on the street. But, you couldn’t help it. There was something about him both physically and mentally that you were heavily attracted to. This only solidified it more.

Plenty of scars lined his scales. Stories of past hunts that always lead to his triumph of not meeting their god of death. You bite your lip harder.

“Seems like I caught you in the middle of something.” You couldn’t believe the courage to make an innuendo to this man!

Conversations and pictures like this continued on as well. Three weeks passed of friendly talk and some talk of hidden messages. Neither of you coming out to say it straight to the other’s face. A little dance the two of you enjoyed happily.

It was him who offered it. He wanted to finally meet you in person. For someone who was rarely around other Yautjas besides Ze’se, you were nervous. There wasn’t a way to hide behind your phone this time. You couldn’t dance around this. It was bound to happen. You knew it.

So, you swallowed down your nerves and said yes. The meeting place became a little shop a few blocks away from your apartment. Close to comfort. Anything to give you the confidence you needed to face him. It wasn’t a game to you. Far from it. But, you could play a good façade over the phone. When it came to meeting someone personally, it was… that’s where your courage goes right out the window.

When the day came, your nerves were jittering your entire body. It was hard to stand still in front of the mirror to see if your outfit looked perfect. It had to be perfect. You needed to be perfect. This is where everything could go wrong. You card a hand through your hair then glanced down at your phone.

About five minutes were left before you had to go out that door and meet him face to face. There was no backing out of this now. You made a deal, a promise to go there. With a deep breath to fill your lungs, you marched out the front door early. It was best to be early than late. Who knows if there’s traffic. Plus, you can pick out the seat you want in the small restaurant. That way, you can look professional.

The streets of the city you lived in weren’t the best. Every corner you took wide and carefully watched your back. Once you made it to the safety of the restaurant, you find the place empty of patrons. There are a few employees meandering around though. Your brows furrowed at the sight. This place was busy everything time you tried to come here. T’a’yta said he would make the reservation for the two of you. But this was strange.

Someone noticed your entrance and came up to you with a smile. He said your name in a questioning tone. You dipped your head, unsure of the whole situation. “Follow me,” said the host. He didn’t take a menu with him and began to walk away. You were timid to shadow him before scampering after him like a scared puppy.

The restaurant wasn’t fancy by any means but it was still nice. On the inside, every chair and seat all besides one had been shoved to the side. The lights had been lowered to a romantic setting. Flowers and balloons were decorated the space. You stopped in your tracks and took in the area. It was more than anything that anyone has done for you. Did… oh my god. T’a’yta did this for you! Your jaw dropped. You looked like an fearful, cornered animal. What kind of Yautja was he?

Ze’se said his name was up there on the totem pole but… you weren’t expecting this! He had to have bought out the entire space. That had to cost at least a thousand dollars. Did he seriously have that kind of money to fork over? All for you too.

The call of your name snapped you from your scrambled thoughts. You shook your head and looked over at the source.

In the middle of the room was a lone table and two chairs. One chair was already occupied by the familiar sight of T’a’yta. Despite being feet away from you, he was still a massive form that easily consumed the chair. A smirk graced his handsome features. He gracefully stood from his seat and walked around it.

By god’s grace. When he got close to you, he towered over you as the average height of a Yautja. You reached his midriff and had to tilt your head back to find those bright eyes. They glowed lightly in the dark, nearly a beacon to find the alien.

Your heart thundered loudly in your chest. It was on the verge of leaping out and landing straight into his hands. The sound was so loud to yourself, he had to hear it himself. You swallowed hard and pulled on a brave smile. T’a’yta offered a single hand to you, palm facing up. You gingerly placed your own into his and watched the way it was consumed. He’s massive.

T’a’yta eyes you for a second longer before gently leading you towards the table. With no other option, you let him guide you. The dusty brown Yautja pulls out the chair for you. You glance at him for barely a heartbeat before taking a seat. He easily pushes you in then returns to his own seat. Your tongue darts out to lick at your dried lips.

The Yautja is dressed in somewhat normal clothing. He’s not in full blown hunter gear, something you had thought about him being in. A sight you’ve seen a few times already from the pictures of him he’s sent. His clothing seemed to be meant for celebrations or gatherings. Causal clothing. The type Ze’se would be seen wearing as well.

And he looked good in it.

Both of your hands were placed in your lap, head slightly tilted down. Being in his presences was a one-eighty from causally talking to him over the phone and messages. There was no hiding from that piercing gaze he roamed over your form.

A chuff came from the male. He laxed back in the too small of chair that squeaked under the shift of weight. “There is no reason to be tense, my dear.” If it wasn’t for your locked muscles, your jaw would’ve dropped at the deep rumble of his voice. You already knew Yautjas voices, no matter the sex, were a low timbre. His though, was thick as honey and drew you in instantly.

He didn’t miss the way your breath hitched when he spoke, the way your eyes twitched slightly more open. One of his upper mandible quirked up. You noticed the move and swallowed down the lump in your throat. A deep breath was pulled into your lungs.

“S-so, I not-tice the place is-is empty,” you attempted to start off the conversation for the night. T’a’yta stayed in his relaxed position, head tilted off to the side. He watched you lazily with an adored look in those vibrant eyes of his.

His head dipped down. “Yeah. Did that myself. I didn’t want us to be interrupted by anyone. I wanted to see you all alone.” Words that shouldn’t been a red flag by anyone else but the way he says in that voice of his. It made it sound like he was wanting to protect you from prying eyes. He wanted you safe.

That meant you were right. He had bought out the place for the night. How could this man have that kind of cash lying around? Who did Ze’se set you up with? A millionaire? Did she seriously think you could pull someone like that? A small and frail human in the presence of a Yautja. Humans were ninety-nine percent of the time seen as such to these massive hunters of the universe. That included yourself.

Maybe you really had gone way over your head.

Your hands played with each other, hidden underneath the table. It helped you from the rest of your body from fidgeting and letting him know how much of a mess you were. The way his eyes narrowed slightly already told you he knew.

“That m-must have been a-a lot.” If he wasn’t in front of you, you would’ve smacked yourself silly for such a stupid comment. This is why you preferred texting. It allowed you to think of the words before they came spilling from your lips.

He chuckled. A deep, timbre sound falling from his alien mouth. His hips shifted. Your heartrate picked up again. The sight was enticing. He brushes off the comment with a flick of his hand. “It was nothing. I’m glad we get to finally meet in person. I’ve been waiting to catch your scent.” After being around Ze’se for some time, you’ve learned that scent to a Yautja was important. You didn’t take it in a weird way. Instead, you simply nodded your head. With the change of subject as well, you were thankful. There wasn’t a chance you could fully steer this ship without his aid.

“Y-yeah, me too-too. Not the scent part!” You were quick to cover that. “Humans don’t do that. But, I don’t find it weird. I know it’s a thing for Yautjas. I’m fine with it!” Oh my god, the word vomit that came spilling from your loose lips. Worst of all, you hadn’t even had any alcohol in your system. Here you were, acting like a complete fool. You wished for the floor to open and swallow you hole.

Heat blazed to life on your cheeks. You groaned and covered your face with your hand, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. “I’m so sorry.” That’s all you can say to cover up your failure.

The chair groans under his shift of weight. The table dips slightly in his direction. You felt the heat of his palm cupping your jaw. Another hand wrapped thick digits around your wrist. With a gentle tug, he pulled your hand loose, but you found every other surface in the place more interesting. There was without a doubt you had ruined this first meeting with him.

A soft purr-like sound came from his massive bulk. You weren’t expecting it. Your eyes flickering up in surprise for a moment. The second they met his though, they were back down to the ground or the table or your lap. The purr increased in volume. It vibrated the air and sent tingles racing up your arms. It was a powerful weapon against you.

All of your tense muscles began to loosen as if he commanded it. Both of your arms rested on the table. He gently held up your head and gave a soft tug towards him. Your gaze found his again. But, you didn’t look away.

“There’s that sweet, little ooman I’ve been wanting to see,” he cooed to you and kept your attention on him. T’a’yta was a master at calming you down from the height of your embarrassment. “Keep those lovely eyes of yours on me. I want to see every expression you make, little one.” You melted against his touch and let yourself be nearly controlled by him. All you could do was dumbly nod.

“Good, such a good ooman. Now, I want you to pick out anything on the menu. Anything you want. I don’t care the price or whatever.” Your tongue darted out lick at your lips before nodding again. T’a’yta hummed and paused for a second before letting go of your chin. You leaned back to a normal sitting position, eyes still on him. The dust colored Yautja smirked then gestured at the menu.

That shook you back to your normal mindset. Your face felt like it was on fire. The way you had just melted at the velvet of his words and soft touches. You took the opportunity to glance at the menu. His gaze had done the same. Relief flooded your system afterwards.

There were only a handful of times you’ve been here over the years. One, it was hard to get in due to how busy. Two, your limited time with your job. Three, a lot of the items on here weren’t something an office worker could easily afford. You came here when all three of those things lined up. That’s once a in blue moon. But now, he was offering you anything on the menu. Including the most expensive steak you’ve ever seen before. Not that you go out very often.

Who was he? A question that kept popping up throughout his whole interaction with him.

As you grazed the menu, your eyes kept flickering up to look at him. The darker lighting gave him an aura that was nearly scary. Yet, there was something deep inside of you that knew this man would never, in a million or trillion years, harm you in any sort of the way.

Money may no be an issue but you didn’t want to seem like a gold digger. The reason you chose this place was because had lined up perfectly. You could pay for your regular meal. Yet, it seemed like he was more than willing to cover every cost.

There was a nagging thought in the back of your mind though. Surely, you weren’t going to make him pay for your food. You liked it when things were equal to the best of everyone’s abilities.

To play it safe, you decided on a simple salad. Plus, eating healthy was a good thing too.

The menu was set down onto the table again. In time for a waiter to come to the table with a pen and paper. “Hello! Welcome to our establishment. And many thanks to you sir T’a’yta for this. We appreciate your company!” He’s cheery with a bright smile on his face while talking to the dust colored Yautja across from you. “Is there anything I could start the two of off with?” The waiter glances between the two of you.

T’a’yta gestures for you to start off. Suddenly, you feel on the hot seat all over again. You bite at your tongue, eyes flickering down to find the drinks. Pepsi products. You tell him what kind of soda you are wanting then peered at T’a’yta. The Yautja had a brow arched.

“You are more than welcome to appetizers. Like I said, you can get anything you want. My treat.” Seriously, you should take his word and go out. There was that same nagging idea in the back of your head that prevented you. You shake your head and busied yourself with looking at the menu for the moment.

His eyes were still on you for a few beating seconds as he ordered his own drink. “Bring every appetizer you have as well.” Your head jerked up, eyes snapping wide. He did not!

The waiter’s own eyes showed off the whites of them. There had to be about ten appetizers. T’a’yta just ordered all of them!

“It will take some time for the cooks to prepare that big of an order. If that’s alright with you?” he asked the gentlemen across from you. A lax look was plastered to T’a’yta’s features. Like the time or the price was the last thing on his mind. His eyes were glued to your fidgeting, surprised form. His inner jaw muscle tightened to hold back his need for action.

“Yes, I understand.” T’a’yta doesn’t care. He’s polite to the worker though. Jesus Christ. You were starting to regret this whole meeting at a semi-fancy restaurant. What if he expects you to pay the bill after he rents the place out? It would take a small loan to pay all of this off. No, you wouldn’t take a bite. All you were having was your salad. Cheap and healthy. The last thing you wanted was to be seen as a gold digger or a slob for junk food. Not that you pig yourself out on them, but you still have them as snacks.

With one more look at T’a’yta, the waiter takes his leave with the notes of drinks and thoughts of every appetizer on his mind.

Once he retreated to the back part of the building, you leaned forward. “I’m honestly fine! I-I don’t need to eat that much,” you argued with the hunk of muscles. He laughed from his throat and rested an elbow on the table before leaning forward. T’a’yta placed his chin in his palm.

“If you won’t let me spoil you the way I want, I will do it myself. I’m a Yautja of my word. Eat, get, ask for anything you want. I will get it for you.” Is this normal for a Yautja? You knew the males like to woo the females with trophies and prowess. Since you were human, it was different. Clearly, he had done his research and changed tactics to get the same results.

You let out a shuttering breath and sat up straight. Once more, your gaze dropped to the table. The tips of your ears burned. Your lips were pressed into a tight line for the time it took you to maul over your thoughts. “Fine. Only a little. I’ll only have a little,” you relented to his forwardness. When he wanted something, he got it by the looks of it. Man, was he stubborn in ways you weren’t expecting.

That same smirk returned to his smug features. “Good. I’m glad to see you’ve come to reason, little one.” T’a’yta picks up his head and lets both of his arms rest on the table, one resting on top of the other. “Now, how was your day? I hoped this morning’s weather wasn’t dab on your mood.”

It shocked you a little. You didn’t expect him to know this morning’s weather. From what you know, he lives on his own ship and traverses the universe, loner style. Maybe he had come to check out the city before coming here for dinner.

At the same time, you were thankful for a change of subject. Something to ease you back into a comfortable atmosphere.

“It was good.“ You nodded your head. “I only had to run a couple of errands this morning.” From there, the two of you talked about whatever you could get your minds on. Day-to-day stuff from this last week, even to his latest hunts and the skull he brought back. He showed you the latest scar that said creature had given him. It was small but had nicked an artery. T’a’yta could’ve died.

Thirty minutes passed before three waiters showed up at your table. One had pushed together two other tables to yours and gave amble room for every plate. A few small extra plates were given to you. Then, they were off back towards the kitchen.

Eleven appetizers. There was more than enough for a family of twenty to enjoy. Yet, there was only the two of you.

T’a’yta didn’t move and kept his eyes on you. “Go on and enjoy, little one. Do not be shy.” He returned to his lax position and decided to take in the space finally in your presence. You were thankful not to have his overbearing, all seeing gaze on you.

Everything before you looked so good. You hungered for it all. Yet, again. That same thought. You gnawed on the inside of your cheek while carefully plucking pickings from a few plates. Not even half of the small plate had been filled. That’s when his gaze returned to you. T’a’yta gave you a deadpanned look and positioned himself to sit up.

Deadly, sharp, black claws plucked some sort meat off of an appetizer and offered it to you. He held it directly in front of your mouth. You nearly shrunk away before opening your mouth and taking the meat between your teeth. Once it was gone, he swiped a thumb along your bottom and wiped the cooked chicken juices along the soft skin. It forced you to lick away the excess. “Good, good. How did that taste?” His tone was teasing, nearly taunting you.

You swallowed the piece down after chewing. “Um, it’s-it’s good. I like it,” you answered truthfully and looked at him with timid eyes. The giant hummed then picked up a different appetizer that you hadn’t placed on your plate. Once more, he brushed the piece against your lips and coaxed you into eating it as well.

This continued to happen until every single plate had been tried from. He was satisfied then. T’a’yta used a napkin to wipe his fingers cleaned and made his own plate up. You were slightly dazed and watched him without much of a thought in your head. He grinned.

“How was everything?” His deep voice brought you out of your thoughts. You blinked away the haze and truly looked at him this time.

“Amazing. Their food is always phenomenal!” you explained with a happy alit tone to your voice. A hum tumbled from his chest. T’a’yta takes his own bite.

“I do have to agree. This is very good.” A few more pieces are thrown into his mouth. You were used to the way Yautjas eat with their lack of lips. “Is this place your favorite restaurant to go to?” he questions once the last bite was swallowed.

Your head nodded. “Yeah, when I can visit that is.” Some more of the food on your plate was consumed. Today was pure luck to get the day off from work. Your work rarely likes to give time off. Despite that fact, it was decent pay. All the necessary things were paid for. Which meant you had nothing to complain about.

The Yautja paused and looked at you. “And what’s stopping you?” A sip from what looked to be an expensive drink tilted his head back slightly. Yet, his eyes didn’t find something else. “This place is great.”

That’s a statement you could get behind of. “Well, it is.” Your hands became animated with every word you said. “But, I’m a hard worker. What time I do have, I don’t like to spend it waiting in long lines for a seat here. I didn’t even think you would be able to get a reservation here when you had asked for a place to meet up at.” Those were truthful words. Since the universe had been kind enough to let you find a man such as himself, you had tested your luck. It came evident there was more than meets the eye with T’a’yta.

His mandibles tighten over his inner jaw. “Are you happy you were able to visit the place?”

“Yes, I am. I’m beyond thankful for this opportunity. I didn’t say it before but thank you.” You smiled softly at him and reached across the table to grab his hand. His warmth was a stark difference compared to your own body. He would make to be a perfect heater in the dead of a Montana winter. He squeezed your fingers back in the same gesture.

“There is no thanks needed. I’m glad to have met you and have this opportunity to do this,” he spoke in a low tone,

Before either of you could speak again, the waiter came back. “Are we ready for the main courses?” he questioned and got out his pen and paper again. This time, he didn’t seem as ready to write things done.

“We are.” T’a’yta looked at you again to start off the process. Oh, shit. Right. You let go of his hand to tilt the menu up towards your face.

You cleared your throat and gaze up at the waiter. “I’ll just have the house salad.” Despite his constant reassurance to get whatever you wanted, you still went with the cheapest thing. You couldn’t stop from peeking at T’a’yta. Another deadpanned look was plastered to his alien features. He blinked at you slowly then pointed down to the menu.

“Don’t make me order the entire menu, little one.” You made a small, high pitch squeak at the hidden warning. Clearly, he wasn’t joking around. You huffed and placed the sheet back down on the table.

“Sorry, scratch that. I would like the salmon please.” T’a’yta grunted his approval at the change.

“Hm, for myself…” he trailed off and let his gaze roamed the page. “I’ll go for the steak, the special soup, and some pasta. I’ll let you choose what type. Oh, and bring some Moscato, please.” The waiter scratched everything down on his paper then grabbed the menus from you. Then, he was gone, scampering to the back of the house.

A quiet scoff left your lips. “There was no need for that,” you pouted and crossed your arms. T’a’yta laughed in amusement at the sight before him. His hand reached out to pinch your chin between his thump and pointer finger.

The alien held you there for a breath’s moment. “Yes, there is. I will show you there is no need to shy away from letting me spoil you. I crave to show you that I can take care of you. Such a sweet, little ooman in my grasp.” That’s when you tucked your head to the side, embarrassment flooding your system. He hummed again but let you be.

All of the appetizers were pulled away to make room for the incoming plates of dinner. The same waiter from before dropped off the ordered plates. Your salmon looked delicious sitting in front of you. Steam was wafting off the slab of meat.

“Aren’t you glad you got that instead of a meek salad?” T’a’yta teased you with a smug glint in those bright eyes of his. You bristled at his words and pressed your lips into a tight line. He may be right but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of your agreement. He can’t blame you for being nervous. Who wouldn’t be in your shoes?

Only a shrug was your answer. You dug into the salmon and attempted to savor the wonderful flavor that burst to live over your taste buds. This had to be the best salmon in your entire life. A hum left you while you smiled happily. Yeah, he was right. He knew it as well. Smug little dick. You kept your gaze down casted to the plate in front of you the entire time.

From the edge of your vision, you watched him eat his own three plates of food he ordered. At least he wasn’t shoving any of those down your throat the same way he was with the appetizers. Not that he was in the wrong. You did want an appetizer but felt like you shouldn’t. T’a’yta showed you he didn’t care. Not one bit.

This time around, there wasn’t any trouble. He consumed his three platefuls while you ate your own without his assistance like the first time.

The entire plate was finished off. You sat back a little and sipped at the wine he had shoved your way. Another pointed look in your direction. Again, he’s not afraid to show his cards and what he can do. It wasn’t abusive or wrong or a bad way of forceful. Actually, it was sweet. He wanted you well fed and dined in a romantic, caring manner.

Wined and dined.

Exact words Ze’se had used earlier. How right she was.

T’a’yta had consumed his portion as well and relaxed back into the creaking seat. You were still surprised it was holding up to his massive size. The muscles that lined his body thick from years of training and hunting. His own hand dwarfing a wine cup filled halfway with the red liquid. The same wine you sipped as well. You weren’t a wine drinker by any means but it was delicious nevertheless.

When the waiter came over to clear the plates, T’a’yta handed his card then whispered something to him. The poor man’s widened and flickered down to the Yautja. He rapidly nodded his head and thanked T’a’yta. Then, his sped nearly doubled. Everything was pulled away and left the table with just your glasses.

A short purr poured from T’a’yta’s throat. A mechanism you learned quickly helped calm your racing heart all over again. He smirked when you leaned back into the seat. The Yautja himself rested his elbows on the table. “How was that, little ooman? Did it meet your expectations?” The purring stopped but it already had done its job.

In a slightly dazed mindset, you nodded your head. “Uhuh. Lots. This place is the best,” you reiterated your likeness of the place and took another sip of your wine. You’ve never been pampered like this in your life. This man, this male had treated you better than any man, woman, or person ever. “I’m glad you agreed to this place.”

“I could care less about the meeting place. Money isn’t a problem. What matters is if you had a good time and you’re full.” He leaned in over the table to enter your space. “I won’t tolerate you trying to skimp out of on eating. In my presences, eat what you want until you’re full, alright? I’m more than capable of taking care of you.”

Shit, he really was pulling out the whole wooing thing that male Yautjas do. But he had changed to woo a human instead.

“But-“ you raised your finger to argue with him. The Yautja narrowed his eyes on you, mandibles pulling tight over his mouth. Immediately, you pressed your lips tightly together and looked down at the dark wood of the table.

He grunted then rose to his feet. Right as you were about to follow suit, he walks around and pulls out your seat. A hand is offered to you. You take it and let him guide you to your feet as well. This was another reminder of how large he was compared to you. He easily towered over your human form. You couldn’t help the bite on your lower lip, eyes roaming up and down his figure for only a moment.

“Shall we?” T’a’yta motions towards the door in a grand gesture. You giggled and nodded your head. The argument leaving your system.

The two of you go to the front of the building. The waiter from before was there and finishing up the transaction just in time. He looks a little nervous before handing back the card and receipt. Your curiosity got the better of you. You attempted to peer at the numbers on the receipt but T’a’yta was quicker and smarter than you. The paper and card are tucked away in one of his pockets. You two bid the waiter a goodbye and head out into the slightly chilly air.

T’a’yta gingerly curls his arm around your shoulder and tugged you close to the warmth of his body. You sighed in content at the feeling. He rumbled his amusement, thumb rubbing against your shoulder.

One thing you noticed on the way back. For a city that’s dangerous at night, not one person gave you a second glance. Many didn’t even look either of you in the eye. The dust colored Yautja kept at your pace the entire time. He was glued to your side.

It only happened once but someone had walked a little close to the two of you, nearly shoulder to should with you. A threatening growl erupted from the elder’s throat. Thundering and powerful. A warning to get away from what he possesses. You could moan as the sound traveled down south and sat in the pit of your belly. You had to hear that more.

Your key fits into the door of your apartment. T’a’yta is at your back, guarding you from the dangers that may appear at a moment’s notice. You don’t mind. Actually, you welcome the comfort and protection. It hasn’t been something you felt in a long time. You craved the need as much as water for a dehydrated person at the sight of an oasis.

The door opened with a welcoming squeak and let him see what conditions you lived it. It wasn’t bad. It was an apartment that was well lived in though. A slight mess but that’s what made it home.

“Well, this is it.” You had spun around to tilt your head back to look the male in those bright eyes of his. They were gorgeous to the point you could get lost in them. You timidly played with your hands between the two of you. “I-I appreciate everything today. It was an amazing date. And-and if you… want, we could go on another?” It was you who had taken the responsibility to offer up a second date. “I’ll pay for it next time.” Of course you had to. It was your turn.

A growl left his towering frame. Not a threat like before but an easy warning. T’a’yta stepped into your space which forced you to take one back. This happened two more times before he crowded you against the closet door at the entrance of the apartment. A whimper fell from your softly parted lips.

One hand rested above your head while the other gripped your chin. The touch forced your head back. This close and personal with T’a’yta allowed you to see all the tiny details of his face. A face of an elder who’s fought his battles and won his wars. A life well lived. The Yautja who began to purr, tongue flickering out to taste the air.

“I had a wonderful time myself, little one. But, if you think I’d ever let you pay for a single thing while on a date, you had me wrong from the beginning.” The course pad of his thumb dragged across your lip. Your tongue darted out and lapped once at the sharp talon on the tip. His grip tightened nearly painfully. “Paya, it’s taken every single ounce of will to hold back. You are perfect. The little ooman who I’ve been needing to have.”

“Someone to warm my bed and bare my pups in my olden age. I’m letting you know now of my wants. If you don’t wish to continue, tell me now. I will disengage. But… if you give me every right, all the power. I will make it my duty that you will never have to lift a finger again. And the only time you’ll break a sweat is when I breed you and you give birth. Any other time, you will be pampered like royalty,” he promised to you directly.

Your breath got caught. His words. They were so dark, so beautifully crafted. He wasn’t afraid to state his wants. There was no dancing around the bush. T’a’yta was a Yautja would knew what he wanted in his life.

That want was you. The perfect human to bed with, make his royal partner and treat them as such. He growled and inched closer. “Answer me, little one.”

The lump in your throat was swallowed down. “Yes, I want that too.”

Relief sagged his shoulders. He nearly dropped his weight against you. Instead, he buried his mouth into the crook of your neck and took in the source of your scent. “I’m beyond glad you agree. It would be hard to rid my mind of every little thing I love about you. I will cherish you the way you deserve.” T’a’yta pulled away to find your gaze once more. “But I will do this the ooman way. I have the patience of a seasoned hunt. I can take my time and win you over in the manner you’re most comfortable in.”

If there was anyway to love this male anymore, you would find the way. He was beyond respectful of you and letting you have all the control in the world. This was just your first face-to-face meeting with him. This was how he was acting in the first place? Call it too soon, but you were already in love with him. There wasn’t a single red flag you could find throughout the whole getting to know him process.

For the first time, you reached up and cupped his jaw in your hands. The texture of his scales wasn’t rough or scratchy, yet there was a clear difference between the two of you. A difference that didn’t matter to you.

You may not be the same species, but love will always find a way.

[whiskis]

The commander's mate (part 1?)

A/N: Two SFW stories in a row, sorry, my brain is not really horny this week. That said, part 2 of this lil snippet everyone loved, enjoy!

Alien x fem!reader|| SFW, hurt/comfort || tw: kidnapping

"You are going to take the million and shut up if you don't want your brain blown for keeping a commander's mate imprisoned on a pet shop," he replied, his gun already out as your brain spiraled with the info he just let out.

What did he mean by “mate”? Did aliens talk in Australian lingo? You highly doubted that, and your brain was already scrambling to get a response. Maybe… Maybe your monsterfuckery books weren’t so wrong after all, maybe he was talking about that kind of mate. But that couldn’t be, could it? There was no way you got kidnapped from earth and thrown into a monster pet shop just for an alien to find you and claim you as his mate. That couldn’t be possible. Your life wasn’t like that…

It was a dream. That was it. Everything you just saw and experienced was a dream. You didn’t get kidnapped. You didn’t wake up on a pet cage with a very angry gobling-pet-store-owner screaming at you in a language you didn’t understand. Nope. A dream. That explained it. That explained everything.

You pinched your side and pressed your eyes shut tightly. Wake up, wake up, wake up… You repeated to yourself over and over.

A warm big hand touched your bicep and you almost shoot into the stratosphere when you jumped up, scared. You opened your eyes in a rush and found the alien staring back at you, his eyes tender. “Little human, it’s time to go.” His voice was a lot sweeter than before, equally deep, but soothing in a way.

Your scared brain couldn’t work properly and a thousand questions piled in the front of your mind, but the first that escaped your mouth was: “How do you know my language?” He didn’t have an accent, but you knew he didn’t learn English at school like you did.

He covered your hand with his much bigger one, he was crouching in front of the cage, but still towered over you by far. “I’ve been to earth many times, little human,” he explained. He was rubbing soothing circles over the back of your hand, and your body was slowly melting.

It ached, you ached, to be closer to him. But you denied yourself of that, you didn’t understand what your body was feeling, maybe it was Stockholm syndrome or something. Even if that syndrome was bullshit and he wasn’t the one who kidnap you.

“Why?” You asked. You didn’t exactly know about what you were asking, you only knew… need. Need like no other. To know. To meet. To touch. It was driving you slowly made not to be as close to him as possible. You crawled to him, and he helped you out of the cage, but you were still on the floor as he crunched next to you.

“Political affairs. I know your world leaders very well,” he said with a chuckle, his mouth tilting in something that (you hoped) was a try to smile but looked more like a grimace. That only answered part of your confusion, but at last it was something.

“Who are you?” You finally let out, your brain clearing enough to question him on the important part. Being closer to him made your mind clearer, and that should scare you. But it didn’t, you couldn’t be scared when he was so close.

“I am the commander of the intergalactic alliance,” he let out in a formal tone, just to go back to his shooting one when he added: “and I’m your mate, my lovely human.”

“Like the Australians?” You asked, trying to make sense of something.

He laughed, throwing his head back and arching his neck in a way that made your mouth water to bite him. Where the fuck did that thought come from? You stepped closer, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat emanating from his colorful skin.

“No, little human. Not like the Australians,” and that was everything he said as he took your hand, and helped you up, leading you away from the creepy monster pet shop.

A/N: Reminder that you can read all my other stories back in @monstersflashlight (all organized in this masterlist), thanks for reading!

[aurorawritestoescape]

BAD BLOOD part 6

Pairing: step uncle Joel Miller x f!reader x stepdad Tommy Miller

Summary: a month after Joel exposed your relationship with Tommy, the Miller brothers pay you a visit and your feelings come to the surface.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, angst, step-cest, big age gap (reader is 22, Joel and Tommy are in their late and mid-40s), dark!Joel, soft!Tommy with darkish vibes, edging, mfm, unprotected DVP, f!oral, ass slapping(2), handjob, multiple orgasms, creampies, cum eating, degradation, praise kink, daddy kink, fingering, swearing. Joel can pick up reader. The pics are for the mood only. Reader has no specific physical descriptions.

Word count: 8,2k

A/n: this is the final part of the main story so I’m very emotional about it. I love these menaces. There’s going to be an epilogue and I’ll probably do some extra stories for them bc I can’t see myself letting them go🥹 dedicating this part to my everything @milla-frenchy ❤️ Thank you for being with me every step of the way! Your support, your help, your love for the characters (mainly Joel *coughs*slut) mean the world to me. Love you sm, baby!!💖🫂😘 big hug to @romanarose for answering my dorm-related questions!🫂 I’m grateful to everyone who’s read the series, liked, commented, rb-ed, sent asks about it. I’ve been overwhelmed with your love and I’m sending you some back💕Love you all!!❤️ Hope you’ll like this part! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Part 5 || SERIES MASTERLIST II Tommy’s Visit MASTERLIST

“I’m off, babe!” your roommate Mel says when you meet her at the dorm on the way to your room. She’s carrying a big sports bag, ready to drive to her parents’ house for the weekend.

“Oh! Your dad’s here. He’s in our room,” she nods in the direction of your suit and adds with a playful smile, “he’s hot!”

You furrow your brows, blinking at her with confusion.

“Dad? But.. He lives in Europe.”

“Ehm…Maybe it’s your stepdad then? He said he was your daddy.”

‘Daddy’. Your jaw drops and your heart plummets into your stomach.

“You ok?” Mel places her hand on your shoulder, with a worried expression. “You look… shook.”

“No, I’m fine… just surprised.”

You wave her goodbye with a strained smile and your weak legs carry you to your dorm room.

Your mind is racing and every step seems to last an eternity. You can’t believe he’s here. A mixture of guilt, fear and excitement fills your chest. What are you going to tell him?

You haven’t talked to Tommy in more than a month, scared to face him, to admit that you had ruined his life because of your desire. You hoped that he realized that Joel was the real villain of the story but you couldn’t deny that all that mess had started with you. After that horrible day, your mom flooded your phone with hateful messages, calling you a slut, a whore and a homewrecker. You didn’t pick up her calls which were rare. Apparently she didn’t want to hear your voice, just like you didn’t want to hear hers. Indifference filled your heart. You had already hated her for years, your relationship ruined long before you slept with her husband.

And Tommy…You couldn’t bear to hear him breaking up whatever thing you two had so you just blocked him. His hate would be too much for you. You had never felt anything like that before and you wanted to save those moments together untainted by his resentment.

You did the same with Joel’s number. But you pressed ‘block caller’ only after you phoned him and cursed the fucker out. How did he dare to drop a nuclear bomb on your life like that? Deep in your heart you knew that he had overplayed you in your own game and your pride was hurt. What made matters worse was your sickening yet undeniable desire for the bastard.

When you come up to your room, you see that the door is slightly ajar. He really is here. After taking a deep breath, you step into the room and find Tommy, sitting on your bed, elbows planted on his knees, your exercise book in his hands. He’s wearing a black shirt with a white tank top underneath and a pair of dark jeans. Your pussy tingles just from a sight of him, his big body, soft curls, but you drive away these thoughts, trying to concentrate on the goal that you set on the way here - to get him back.

Your stepdad raises his eyes to you. Is it a trace of smile on his lips? What if he doesn’t hate you after all? A slither of hope gives you much needed courage and you take a few steps towards him.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

Your voice is small and shaky and you hate it but it’s stupid to deny your overwhelming feelings for him.

Tommy gives you a little smile and throws your book back on your desk, next to your bed.

“I wanted to see you. We need to talk.”

“Yes, daddy,” you agree, biting your lip and batting your eyelashes at your stepdad.

“I didn’t think you’d call me that after blocking me.”

“I’m sorry, but… I was scared. I thought you hated me. But it’s not my fault. I had feelings for you and Joel used it. He ruined your life. I’d never do it.”

Tommy drops his head, rubbing his hands, and hums. You start seeing red as soon as your step uncle's name leaves your lips and your anger spills out.

“That fucker secretly took the photo and sent it to our fucking family chat?! Who the fuck does that? Is he insane?”

Tommy looks up at you and then his gaze slides to the side, somewhere behind you, before he says,

“You can ask him yourself, sweetheart.”

For a second time your heart jumps in your chest, when a pair of strong arms grabs you from behind and you sense a broad chest pressed tightly to your back. Startled, you are about to scream, but a huge hand claps over your mouth.

“Surprise, angel,” Joel gruffs in your ear while his arm squeezes your waist. You thrust and shake but all your attempts to break free are fruitless against his strength.

“Keep wriggling, baby, I love feeling your ass, grinding against my dick.”

He hums and pushes his hips into you. You sense his huge bulge and your pussy tingles when you remember what he can do with this cock. Joel’s scent envelops you just like his body and you gush. Yet your hatred for the man overpowers your desire and you keep thrashing in his steel embrace. Your nostrils flare, and searching for help, your pleading eyes dart to Tommy.

To your surprise your stepdad doesn’t rush to help you— he sits up straighter and spreads his thighs wider, while his darkening eyes are sliding up and down your bound body, powerless in Joel’s arms.

You whine, realizing that he’s enjoying it, the view is turning him on. You’re getting worked up as well, feeling yourself small and helpless, fully at the mercy of the two men.

Joel’s arm, wrapped over your arms and under your chest, pushes your breasts up and they almost spill out of your neckline. You can feel your step uncle’s breath on your cleavage, and he’s groaning, probably enjoying the view of your tits. A new surge of arousal makes you press your thighs together. Are they gonna fuck you in your dorm room like it’s some raunchy porn? You really hope so.

Not being able to hide your desire any longer, you make a loud moan, muffled by the hand covering your mouth, but it still electrifies the air in the room, and both men grunt.

As much as you love Joel’s strong back and huge bulge pressed against you, scorching anger rises from the pits of your stomach again, and you try to push him off yourself. Tommy’s watching your weak attempts for a few seconds before taking pity on you.

“Let her talk, Joel.”

The older brother puts his hand away and you exclaim, wriggling in Joel’s arms, trying to break free.

“Let go of me, perv!”

"You had this perv's cock in your mouth and your ass not so long ago," he reminds you, not easing his grip.

"I'm not fucking proud!"

"You should be, angel. You took it like a champ both times."

He emphasizes his words with a thrust of his hips and you growl, trying to hide your arousal.

“Daddy, what the fuck? Why’s he here? Why didn’t you tell him to fuck off?”

Joel tightens his python-like embrace and gruffs in your ear,

“Blood is thicker than water, angel. But you and your “mummy didn’t let me host a party and now Ima fuck her husband” will never understand that.”

“It’s not…you know nothing about me, you asshole.” Your voice strains as the rage suddenly mixes with deep sadness. Trying not to burst into tears you grit your teeth as you explain,

“She ruined my whole life, drove my dad away. She cheated on him and now he’s not even talking to me, just sends money for college. It’s all because of that slut.”

Tommy drops his head and you know that he's feeling sorry for you right now. Your pride pangs but a ray of hope dries your upcoming tears - he cares, he still cares about you.

Joel on the other hand is not sympathetic in the slightest, commenting with a chuckle, "Damn, angel, you're a textbook example of daddy issues.

Not saying we ain't happy, right, brother?" He looks at Tommy and adds, "it got our dicks wet."

You begin thrashing harder and exclaim, “Fuck you!”

“Yeah, you will.”

“Let go of her, Joel,” Tommy commands, steel in his voice, and to your surprise, Joel follows his brother's order immediately.

You hurry away from your step uncle and stand closer to Tommy.

Your eyes dart between the men, as you’re fixing your bunched up clothes, panting heavily after trying to get free.

Joel grabs your chair, plops down and places his booted foot on the edge of your desk with a thud.

You’re glaring at him, trying to convey all disgust and hatred for the man with your expression, but Tommy sighs and your gaze darts to him.

“Daddy,” you whisper, taking a shy step in his direction.

His eyes freeze your heart. He looks serious, too serious for your liking.

Tommy leans on his knees again and starts talking, eyes moving between you and Joel.

“Joel is an asshole, sweetheart, you’re right. But what’s new? I’ve known him all my life and I understand what he’s capable of. Yes, he ruined my marriage but to be honest…I’m glad.”

Your jaw drops as you’re staring at your stepdad, and he continues,

“Life with Jess was suffocating me. I thought I needed to settle down, to start a family but I was wrong. I was happy in Austin. And she…fuck,” he shakes his head with a sigh, “She’s a lot. You’re the best person to know it.”

His eyes set on you and you see a genuine regret and sadness in them. You want to reach for him, hug him, kiss him but he needs you to listen. So you listen.

“In an absolutely horrible way, yes, but Joel helped me to get out of it. I’m gonna lose a lot of money in the settlement but it’s just money.”

“Shoulda got a prenup like I told you,” Joel mumbles.

The longer Tommy speaks, the more you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“Wait! So now he’s your savior, huh? He manipulates you, Tommy! He says what you want to hear and then stabs you in the back!”

“Baby, the only thing I did behind your back is come in your ass,” Joel smirks and then points his thick finger at you, “And not you talking about fuckin’ loyalty! We had a deal but you weren’t gonna do shit with that recording! I saw your fuckin’ heart eyes. You’d never do it to your precious daddy so I had to do it my way. And it needed to be done!”

You narrow your eyes and clench your fists, barely holding yourself from hitting the man, as you exclaim,

“You sent the pic of me fucking my stepdad to my family group chat, you fucker! My nana’s there! She almost died after seeing that photo!

All you get from your step uncle is another bark of a laugh.

“Who gives a shit? She’s ancient.”

“You motherfuckin’…” you’re about to launch at the men but Tommy rushes up and steps between you and his older brother.

“Stop!” His hands are on your shoulders, his eyes kind and warm. “Calm down, sweetheart. Please.”

You take a deep breath and inch closer to him and Tommy doesn't push you away. He hugs you, pulling you closer to him, and rubs your back with his big hands. You immediately melt in his warm embrace with your cheek pressed to his chest, your arms wrapped around his waist. You bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut, fighting back tears as a mix of strong emotions- hate, love, desire, rage, fills your heart and you take a deep breath, wishing to find comfort and peace in your stepdad's arms.

You open your eyes and see Joel watching you two, his gaze piercing, expression pensive. You’d give a lot to know what he’s thinking about at the moment. Probably scheming again.

You turn your face away from him and press your cheek to Tommy’s chest.

Suddenly he pulls away and looks down at you, head tilted.

“You hurt me, baby. I needed you, and you left. Even blocked my number.”

You swallow loudly, shifting on your feet, as fear is rising in your chest again. With your eyes downcast, you mumble, “I’m sorry.”

“Are you really?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Are you willing to show us how sorry you are?” He sits back on the bed, manspreading, his gaze dark, intense.

“To you? Yes. But not to him!”

“Sweetheart.” His warning tone binds your pride and you stop fighting what you really want. What your pussy wants.

“Ok, daddy.”

A corner of Tommy’s mouth curves up a little and he says,

“Good girl. Take your clothes off.”

Joel groans and slightly shifts in his chair, making it squeak. You glance at him but your eyes return to Tommy.

You start discarding your clothes piece by piece, gaze locked with your stepdad and he drinks in every exposed part of your body. Your panties fall on the floor last and you step out of them.

Now you’re standing in your dorm room completely naked in a company of the two fully clothed older men. You’re already dripping, the wetness between your thighs is evident just to you for now but you desperately wish for them to discover it.

“We’ve talked enough about Joel. Let’s talk about you, babygirl.”

You feel your stomach twist, nervous about what he might say.

"Have you fucked anyone since you left?" Tommy asks, his expression serious.

"No."

Your stepdad's eyes are darting between yours, searching for any sign of you lying.

"Has anyone fucked you?"

You hate that he doesn't trust you but it's hard to blame him —he knows better than anyone how thirsty you're.

"No, daddy. I promise. I've... only been making myself come, thinking of you. All this time.”

You bite your lower lip and purr, "been imagining you fucking me. Your kisses. Your hands on me. Your cock in my mouth."

Tommy's chest expands and he squirms on the bed. You clasp your hands in front yourself and drop your head down, telling him the truth,

"I've missed you. Still miss you."

"Aww, how sweet," Joel mocks you with a laugh.

Tommy frowns at him and you shoot a fiery glance at the older brother for ruining the moment.

“What about your favourite uncle, angel? Have you fantasized about me?”

"No," you reply without hesitation through the gritted teeth.

"Don't lie," Tommy commands, his tone cold and demanding.

You avert your gaze from them both and look in front of yourself.

"Yes," you admit as your voice is barely audible,

"yes, I did."

Joel's smug grin is noticeable even from your peripheral vision.

"What was it about? Your fantasies?” Tommy asks.

"You both fucking my pussy."

"Damn, angel," Joel groans, palming himself.

“I know my pussy is off limits to Joel. I’m sorry for thinking about it, daddy.”

“It’s ok, sweetheart. You’re allowed to imagine whatever you want.”

You inch closer to Tommy and his eyes slide down from your face to your breasts and then to your wet pussy.

Your stepdad licks his lower lip and a memory of him making you come on his tongue in the darkness of your bedroom overflows the glass of your desire and you kneel slowly between his legs.

“Sweetheart,” Tommy breathes out in surprise but spreads his legs wider for you.

“She remembers well where she belongs,” Joel comments as you feel his hungry gaze on your naked back and ass.

You place your palms on Tommy’s jean-clad thighs and sit on your heels, batting your lashes, before you lower your head to his crotch. You press your cheek to his huge warm bulge and whisper, “let me suck your cock, daddy. I want to apologize.”

Tommy takes a sharp breath and Joel whistles. You feel cold air on your naked pussy and squeeze your thighs together to relieve the ache in your needy center.

Then you nuzzle the stiff lump under his jeans and rub your nose and cheek over it. It twitches against you and a moan escapes your lips. Tommy bucks his hips against your head but then his hand on your cheek stops you.

“We have something else in mind for you, babygirl. You can’t deny that you deserve a punishment, right?”

You drop your eyes in agreement and Tommy continues.

“Your step uncle promised you something that morning when we ehm… had breakfast together.”

You hear the squeak of your chair and then Joel’s heavy steps. The older brother stands next to you two and you lift your head to look at him.

He’s looming over your body, tall and broad and your pussy throbs harder as your eyes involuntarily slide down from his handsome smug face to his broad chest and then huge bulge.

“Get your ass on the bed so I could eat your slutty pussy.”

You scream internally, keeping a straight face, and ask,

“Are you that bad that it’s considered a punishment?”

Joel shifts his jaw and gruffs,

“Let’s hope I won’t bite your clit off, brat.”

You wince and Tommy curses under his breath. Then he pulls you up from your knees and gets up too. You’re standing between the two men, burning up with desire to be used and Tommy doesn’t help you to calm down, when he starts taking off his shirt, leaving only his white tank top on and exposing his thick muscular arms. When you glance back you notice Joel is doing the same, and you softly moan at the sight of his broad torso in a mesh top.

“Moaning like a whore already,” Joel mocks you, stepping up to you and pressing his body to your back and ass.

You gasp but don’t pull away. His hands on your hips slide up and down, until he brings one palm to your pussy and gives your mound a light slap.

“Joel,” you whimper as it sends a wave of arousal through your body.

“You’ve been a bad girl, sweetheart,” Tommy chides you, stepping in front of you.

“Worse than usual?” You purr, biting your lip.

With Joel’s at your back, Tommy presses his hips to yours, sandwiching you between the two brothers and your pussy cries for them so much that you feel your slick run down your inner thigh.

With Joel’s arms wrapped around your torso, Tommy locks eyes with you and you reach for his lips but he immediately pulls away, takes your hand and leads you to the bed.

He sits down, leaning his back on the headboard and pats the place between his legs.

“Get in here, babygirl.”

You want to sit on your knees but suddenly Joel roughly turns you around and pushes you to plop between Tommys legs.

Your stepdad pulls you to lean against his warm chest before Joel kneels on the floor.

“Oh wow, big bad Joel Miller on his knees for me? Not the first time though,” you gloat and Joel grinds his teeth and roughly pulls your hips to the edge of the bed. You gasp as your head slides down Tommy’s chest and your naked breasts jiggle. Joel’s thick fingers dig into your skin as he throws your legs over his shoulders, and your pussy blooms for him. His dark eyes get obsidian with lust, as he glides his palms up and down your thighs.

“Fuck, ya seeing it, Tommy? She wasn’t lying about not fucking. This pussy is desperate for cock. ‘m afraid I’m gonna choke on all this slick,” he comments, not tearing his eyes from your needy cunt.

“I’ll be ok with this outcome,” you grunt as your clit twitches with anticipation.

Joel looks up at you with a sneer and then leans down to your mound. You hold your breath, expecting him to finally start eating you out but his lips land on your inner thigh instead of your waiting cunt. He kisses your skin there and you squirm in Tommy’s arms as Joel’s facial hair tickles you. He gets lower, peppering kisses along your inner thigh, moving closer to your center and you buck your hips to meet him halfway and to finally shove your pussy in his face, but Joel places his big palm on your lower belly and pushes your back on the bed. You hear Tommy’s voice over your head,

“Don’t move, honey. Promise to be a good girl for us, ok?”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathe out and tilt your head up and to the side to look up at him. He’s giving you a warm smile, its effect spreads warmth deep in your belly, but soon it turns into a scorching fire, when Joel’s lips finally latch onto your aching pussy. You gasp and turn to him and the sight almost makes you come. Joel fucking Miller, your asshole step uncle, a mean, selfish, arrogant prick, is on his knees for you, feasting on your wet cunt, lips smacking, tongue gathering all the wetness between your folds.

Already feeling like you’re in heaven, you moan loudly, not caring who might hear and catch you getting a head from your step uncle, while your stepdad’s hands are kneading your breasts and twitching your hard nipples.

“You love it, sweetheart?” Tommy whispers in your ear, as you’re fluttering your eyes shut with pleasure, when Joel’s skillful tongue flicks your throbbing clit and then he sucks it into his mouth.

“Yes—yes—yes,” you chant, almost tasting the climax on your tongue. But a second away from the explosion, Joel parts from your puffy cunt and presses his wet lips to your inner thigh again, kissing and nibbling on it lightly.

“No, Joel, my pussy,” you desperately whine.

“What is it, angel?”

“Make me come, please.”

“Good start but you can do better,” he mumbles while he’s watching his fingers trace your sopping hole. It’s hot but not enough to push you over the precipice.

You grit your teeth but your pride is quickly drowning in the sticky pit of desire.

“Joel, please, please make me come on your tongue. Please, I need it,” you beg and his smile is triumphant and content.

“I’ll do anything for my little niece.”

His mouth returns to your pussy and he grabs your thighs tighter as his tongue swirls your clit around and then slides down to your leaking hole.

“Fuck,” you hear Tommy curse and you feel his stiff cock under your back, he must be so turned on by this.

The older brother starts fucking you with his hot muscle and your hand slithers down to rub your puffy clit but Tommy grabs your wrists and pulls your hands up to your chest, crosses them and keeps them there with his one strong hand.

“Daddy, I wanna come,” you beg the moment Joel’s mouth leaves your pussy again and again whenever you feel so close to ecstasy.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but bad girls don’t get to come so fast,” Tommy smirks and his fingers tighten around your wrists.

You feel tears well up in your eyes, your breaths heavy, belly and chest heaving and your whole body is vibrating in frustration.

“Joel,” you sob and your step uncle lifts his head, his lips, mustache and beard glistening with your juices.

“I’ll give the candy to you, slut. But only if you tell me why you love your uncle Joel so much.”

“What?”

“You heard me, baby.” Joel’s lips are so close but, at the same time so far from where you need him. You curse and whine, grinding your teeth while anger is taking over you again.

Joel hurries you by planting a feather light kiss on your clit and your whole body jerks from a bolt of pleasure but it quickly dissipates, leaving you desperately needing more.

So you cave in.

"You're hot, Joel."

"Yeah, I know. What else?" your step uncle mumbles, drawing a path from your pussy to your knee with his lips.

Tommy chuckles and you squirm in his embrace, annoyed and frustrated.

"You... you're a good fuck."

"Mmm... don't ya think 'great'?"

"Yes. You're a great fuck, Joel."

"You sound like a horny slut, angel," he grumbles, "Hot and a great fuck. Way to objectify your poor uncle. I need more."

His lips travel back down to your cunt and you raise your hips in search of his caress, but Joel pushes you down and Tommy's free arm wraps around your waist tightly.

“Keep still, sweetheart,” he orders and emotions take over your mind and burst out of your mouth.

“Wanna know what I feel? I fucking hate you, Joel. I see myself in you and I fucking hate that. Because it’s like I’m staring at my own future. Just like you I want someone so much that I grab onto them until I realize that they don’t need me. Not as much as I need them. So I lie and manipulate and make them love me. But sooner or later they will see the real me. See my tiny black heart and they will get disappointed and dump me. And I’ll lie and manipulate more to get them back. And it’s a fucking cycle. I’ll never be loved for who I am. Because who I am doesn’t deserve any love.”

Joel freezes with his face between your legs, his expression pensive and serious. If you didn’t know him you’d say you see a trace of sympathy and sadness in his eyes.

“That’s why I hate you, Joel. And you know what’s funny? It’s that I can’t get you out of my fucking mind.”

You want to puke at how vulnerable you’re feeling, baring your soul and body to him. You turn your pained face to your stepdad and say,

“I can’t stop thinking about both of you. Is it love? It’s hard to understand. I’ve never experienced anything like this. Tommy, you’re fucking perfect and I made you suffer and I hate what I did to your life.”

You burst into sobs and your stepdad grabs you by the arms and manhandles you to get on his lap. Joel gets up and sits on the bed.

Tommy’s holding you close, your cheek pressed to his naked chest, peeking out the tank top, that you’re soaking with your tears.

He’s rubbing your shoulder with his hand and softly says,

“I'm not perfect. I’m a piece of shit. I should’ve never done what I did to you. We shouldn’t have. And it’s my fault for getting you into this mess.”

You throw your hands around his neck and start crying harder, mumbling through sobs and whimpers,

“No, please— don’t say that you regret it— regret us—don’t leave me like everyone else, please, daddy.”

“I won’t, babygirl. I’m sorry for… for everything. I love you. I’ll be there for you. Always.”

His arms tighten around you and he kisses everywhere he can reach — your forehead,

your temple, your nose until you tilt your face up and he finds your lips. He’s gentle with you, and you kiss him back, smearing your tears over his face but none of you cares. You’re caressing each other, drowning in the comfort of the embrace and the kiss.

When you part from him you press your nose into the crease of his neck and breathe in his scent, nestling into his big body. While sobs still crawl up your throat from time to time, Tommy wipes the wetness off your face and covers your naked body with a bedspread.

For a few minutes it’s quiet in the room, and when you calm down, you turn your red eyes to Joel, surprised that he hadn’t said anything assholish yet.

You find him watching you with curiosity and now you’re sure. He’s upset too.

A strange feeling envelops you. You want to hug him, feel the warmth of his body and share yours with him. But it’s not your relationship, not the way you connect. So you narrow your eyes and croak,

“Do you know how creepy you look when you’re staring like this, perv?”

You give him a little smile and notice a corner of his mouth slightly rising too.

“You surprised me, angel. Jus’ one month without a cock and you go completely nuts. Crying and shit. Throwing ‘L-words’ around.”

Now you’re both smiling at each other.

“Fuck off.”

“Ok, she’s back,” he says and slaps your ass over the fabric. “Ya know, your tears are golden, angel. Any man will do whatever you want if you cry like that.”

“It was genuine, asshole,” you snap back but there’s no bite to it. You feel lighter, all the pent up frustration and pain left your body and were wiped away by your stepdad’s warm embrace and Joel’s quiet support.

The only emotion that’s still tormenting you is desire. You squirm in Tommy’s lap and the bedspread falls off your shoulder revealing your naked breasts.

“Do you want us to leave, sweetheart?” Tommy asks and his breath caresses your tits.

“No, no, please, I want— .”

“What do you want?”

“I want you. I want you both.”

You look at your stepdad and notice him and Joel exchange glances.

“I think I owe you something, baby,” Joel gruffs and you turn to him and the shine in his beard reminds you of his lips on your pussy. The thought sets your core ablaze and you turn back to Tommy.

“Daddy?” you purr and the man nods.

“But no playing around this time, Joel,” Tommy warns his brother with a serious tone.

‘Course. Hop on my face, cry baby, I ain’t kneeling again.”

He lies down next to Tommy, shoulder to shoulder, and you almost squeal with excitement, throwing the cover off. Tommy leans back on the bed and you tell Joel to scoot lower.

“Wanna play with daddy’s cock.”

“Jesus, angel, is there anything you can do without daddy’s cock?”

You don’t reply and plant your knees on either side of Joel’s head.

A rush of dominance goes through your body when you see your step uncle in this position.

“Finally I’m gonna shut you up,” you smirk and lower your hips slowly, eager for your pussy to meet his smug grin.

Yet Joel is not the one to give up control easily and his hands grab your thighs and he pulls you onto his face. Having teased you before, now he doesn’t play at all and starts passionately making out with your sopping cunt, drawing gasps and moans out of your mouth. With his mouth open wide he stimulates you with a perfect suction while his tongue swirls your throbbing clit around.

You are reduced to a whimpering mess in a matter of seconds and you go so high and so fast that you need to ground yourself.

“Daddy,” you call.

“I’m here, sweetheart.”

Tommy unzips his jeans, trying not to fall off the bed, and takes out his cock.

It’s throbbing, the head glistening with smeared pre cum, and you spit on your hand and wrap your fingers around it. You give his manhood a few pumps, and Tommy moans, but Joel gets your full attention, when his tongue prods your clenching hole and then pushes inside you as deep as it’ll go. He starts fucking you with it and you ride his face, rhythmically bumping your clit against his prominent nose.

“Daddy, I can’t,” you whine, failing to concentrate on two acts at once.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Tommy mumbles and his hand wraps around yours and he starts moving them together up and down his stiff shaft. His head is resting against the headboard but his half-lidded eyes are sliding between your pussy, crying into Joel’s mouth, and the unity of your hands, pleasuring his cock.

Your other hand is clenching your step uncle’s hair and your tits bounce as you increase the pace of riding his face.

You almost there when Tommy pulls your hand off his cock, sits up and mumbles, kissing your palm and panting,

“Oughta stop— too good— wanna come in your pussy.”

“Delicious little cunt,” Joel growls and starts rubbing your clit with the flat of his tongue, up and down, up and down, and you cry out his name, as euphoria bursts in your core and spreads like wildfire all over your body. You’re sobbing with pleasure, trembling over your step uncle's face, dripping juices onto his lips and he drinks them, slurping and groaning.

When the climax subsides you move off Joel’s face and Tommy takes you in his arms. The men are still fully clothed, except for their exposed cocks. You look down Joel's body and realize that he has been stroking his huge hard manhood while eating you out and your core reignites.

Tommy searches for your eyes.

“Do you feel better, sweetie?”

You nod with a tired smile and in a moment your lips crash against his and you kiss while his hands are hungrily roaming your sweat-covered body, your fingers running through his curls.

Not parting from your lips, Tommy brings his hand to your pussy and your legs fly apart. You shift in his embrace, now your back flush against his chest, lips still glued to his, and you moan when he slowly inserts two fingers into your hole, avoiding your oversensitive clit.

You sense a movement and open your eyes to see your step uncle get up.

“Mmm, Joel stretched you well with his tongue,” Tommy murmurs against your mouth. “Your pussy probably can take two cocks now.”

You pull away and stare at him.

“Two cocks, daddy? Do you mean..?”

“Two fat dicks, angel.”

Your head darts to Joel while Tommy’s fingers are still massaging you from the inside and the older brother laughs, lighting a cigarette, standing next to the bed,

“We gonna stuff your needy cunt so full, your belly’ll look like ya 4 months pregnant.”

He takes a drag while his free hand is wrapped around his huge hard cock.

Their words are ringing in your ears- ‘two cocks, your pussy.”

Your head snaps back to Tommy as you plead, “Please-please-daddy-yes-I want it. My pussy can take it, please, please.”

Your brows are pulled together and big needy eyes are glossy with desire. Tommy smiles at you with adoration in his warm dark gaze.

“We can try, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, angel. Your cock hunger sometimes surprises even me. And I know what a giant slut you’re.”

You don’t tear your eyes off Tommy as he coos at you while his fingers are playing with your soaked cunt,

“We still should prepare you. You know we are big. Especially now.”

“Now?”

“Look at you, my beautiful girl. Our cocks are throbbing hard just because of you.”

He leans lower and his lips brush your ear.

“I barely hold myself from taking you right now.” His fingers are moving inside you, slowly at first but gradually increasing the speed.

“My cock demands your little pussy. I’m so close to just sticking it deep in your sweet cunt and using you, taking what I need from you.”

“Fuck, daddy,” you whisper, closing your eyes and spreading your thighs wider, offering yourself to his hand.

You feel him add two more fingers, four inside you now, and the stretch makes you whine but the dull pain adds to the pleasure.

“Yeah, good girl,” Tommy praises you and kisses your cheek, his hand still working tirelessly, preparing your hole for them and bringing you closer to another climax.

You turn your head and see Joel smoking and watching you getting fingered.

His obsidian eyes lock with yours and he winks at you.

“Lemme help you, brother. ‘m afraid to split her poor pussy in half with my dick.”

He bends down and you gasp when you see his meaty hand move to the place where Tommy’s fingers are already stretching you to the limit.

“Joel,” your scared mewl mixes with the squelching noises of your sopping cunt.

“He’s gonna be gentle,” Tommy commands his older brother, and Joel humms absentmindedly as his thick middle finger prods your entrance over Tommy’s digits.

“C’mon, angel, breathe for me. Yeah, good slut, relax your hungry cunt.”

You do as he says and soon you watch his finger disappear inside you, joining Tommy’s digits. With an open mouth you watch two brothers fuck your stretched hole. You grip their wrists, not to stop but to encourage them to keep going.

Tommy's voice is strained with lust when he groans,

“Shit, honey. Listen to her. She’s crying for more. My fingers are drenched.”

His words send you spiraling into the depth of arousal and when the heel of Joel’s hand hits your clit, you cry out. Your body is shaking, your nails scratching their wrists, your face twisting with euphoria.

“Yeah, jus’ like that, little slut. Happy pussy, happy dicks, yeah?”

You barely hear Joel, after two orgasms your brain is mush. Through the fog in your head you hear Tommy’s voice,

“You sure you still want it? Honey, yes or no?”

You nod because of course you do. The way they make you feel when you fuck is the best thing you’ve experienced in your life, the brightest, the richest pleasure. You feel needed, desired, like they will never leave you. Never will be able to exist without you.

“You need to say it, baby, c’mon,” Tommy coos, “Need to hear it.”

“Yes. Please, fuck me both. Fuck my tight pussy.”

“Ain’t so tight anymore, angel,” Joel laughs, “but it’ll snap back after we done with her.”

He gives you a reassuring slap on the thigh and you smile, too spent to talk.

The men get undressed and then manhandle you into straddling Tommy. You kiss him as soon as you’re close, moaning into his mouth as if tasting him is your basic need, one thing you can’t live without. You both seem to get lost in it until you hear Joel’s grumble.

“Quit it, lovebirds. Let’s get to fuckin’.” He’s next to the bed and you turn your head, ogling his gorgeous cock.

“Soon my dick and your sweet cunt will meet, angel. Let’s make their first time special, yeah?”

He tilts your head up with his fingers, bends down and kisses you passionately. You missed his taste, mixed with yours now, missed his lips, his scent, enveloping you. Your pussy aches for him as much as for Tommy and you might hate to admit it but your heart craves him too. His fire is as scolding as it is addictive and you want him to destroy you, in whatever way he wishes.

You wrap your arms around his thick neck and kiss him, really kiss him, like you’re surrendering yourself to him.

Suddenly he lifts you with his strong arms, throws your legs around his waist and starts devouring your mouth like an offering.

You feel his hot cock pulsating between your bodies and you mumble against his lips,

“Fuck me, Joel. Ruin me.”

With a growl he helps you to sit back on Tommy’s thighs.

Your stepdad’s eyes dart between yours as he cups your cheek, “ya making me jealous, sweetheart,” with a smirk he adds, “I love it.”

He’s not lying, judging by the way his hard cock is smearing precum over your belly, and you smile, taking it in your hand and lifting your hips.

Joel encourages you, his heavy hand on your shoulder,

“Yeah, like that, baby.”

Eyes locked with Tommy’s you sink on his shaft in one go and you both moan, joined at last, relishing this sensation.

“Fuck, you’re wet, babygirl. So warm.” You press your tits to his chest, nuzzling his neck and start moving on his length, up and down, slowly and steadily. His hands grab your ass and he kneads and spreads your asscheeks while his low moaning in your ear makes your head spin.

“Ahhh—That’s my good girl—sweet pussy—riding me so well—missed it—hnggg.”

Then he looks up at his brother and grunts,

“Fuck, let’s do it, Joel, gonna come soon.”

“Daddy was celibate just like you, angel. Savin’ his dick for his dear stepdaughter,” Joel chuckles, stepping on the bed and getting on his knees behind you with a grunt. “Miracle that he didn’t bust a nut yet.”

“Fuck off,” Tommy groans and adds, “hope we won’t break the bed,” he smiles at you but you couldn’t care less about it.

“Daddy, what should I do now?”

Instead of Tommy, Joel replies, “Lie forward and enjoy, baby. Your daddies gonna do all the work.”

Tommy nods with a reassuring smile and you lean on his chest, your eyes locked.

Tommy’s cock twitches inside you when you feel Joel’s hands grip your hips and his fat tip prod your already full pussy.

“Be careful, Joel,” Tommy says as his hand rubs your cheek and he stares into your widened eyes.

He moves his thumb to your lips and says, “Suck, my love.”

You feel butterflies in your belly, hearing the pet name, and take his thick finger between your lips and start sucking. It instantly calms you down.

At this moment Joel pushes his tip fully in and you whine around your stepdad's thumb.

“Shhh, the head’s the meatiest part, angel. Now it’ll slide in like a knife through butter.”

Surprisingly enough he’s not lying. The burning you felt before subsides and with his fingers digging into your hips, Joel parts your walls, inserting his whole cock into your slicked up pussy and bottoms out with a roar.

“Fuck me,” he growls and laughs, “My little niece has a perfect hole.”

He slaps your ass lightly and your pussy clamps around their fat cocks, making both of them groan.

“Oh my god, I’m so full,” your voice is shaky, endorphins already coursing through your body.

“Yes, sweetheart, you did it. Shit, it’s so tight inside you now. It feels amazing.” Tommy’s head falls back against the headboard as his eyes flutter shut.

You almost giggle at how great it feels, then take a deep breath and whine,

“Fuck me, please.”

“Damn, you don’t have to ask twice, baby,” Joel gruffs and pulls his cock out almost to the tip before rolling his hips back into you.

The sensation almost sends you over the precipice. You squeeze your eyes shut, your nails scratching Tommy’s chest, and he hisses and thrusts his hips up into you. You gasp when they both start moving and in a few moments the brothers find a perfect rhythm of fucking your stretched hole, their stiff cocks, sliding in and out of your channel, are drawing moans and whimpers out of your open lips.

While Joel is concentrating on balancing his weight on his knees and stuffing your hole, Tommy makes sure to kiss and lick every spot he can reach. His tongue swirls around your nipples, hands grab your flesh, teeth nip your skin. He paints your neck with hickeys, gently kissing the pain away, until his lips reach yours and he kisses you, while the two cocks are fucking you.

Joel interrupts your kiss when his hand wraps around your throat and he pulls you closer to him. Your back arches and you look up at his face, hovering over yours, as he growls,

“Here’s my sweet niece— our pretty fuck doll.”

He begins snapping his hips into you harder, faster sending his cock deeper and Tommy follows his suit, thrusting his member up into your pussy with the same rhythm.

“I told him ya a slut—ahhh, fuck— and look at ya,” he smirks, ruining your pussy, holding your neck tightly, “his good girl’s bouncing on two big dicks, pleading to be fucked like a whore she is.”

“Dreams do come true,” you mumble back with a hazy smile.

Suddenly Tommy’s fingers swirl around your clit and the sensation together with the filthy words, spilling out of Joel’s mouth, pushes you over the edge and you come, harder than ever, trembling between the men, squeezing their cocks with your pulsating pussy while tears of bliss stream down your cheeks.

With a groan Joel licks a tear off your face and pushes you on Tommy’s chest before immediately exploding into your core, spurting warm cum deep inside you.

While you’re still shaking with your orgasm, Tommy embraces your body tightly and begins coming too, pumping you full of his load. Both men are thrusting, the rhythm uneven and hectic, and you’re milking their cocks until their balls are empty. You feel bloated with the amount of cum they squirted into you and soon it starts leaking out around their cocks and sliding down your thighs.

Gradually your climax dissipates while the men are still inside you. The room gets filled with heavy breathing of the three of you. Joel’s manhood slides out of your pussy first and he tilts your head to him and plants a quick kiss on your lips.

“Keep ‘er plugged, brother,” Joel gruffs, getting up, plops in your chair and lights another cigarette. “Happily,” Tommy murmurs into your ear, before he starts peppering soft kisses along your neck. You giggle when his mustache is tickling you, and to make him stop, you press your lips to his and you make out while his softening manhood is still buried deep inside you, in the pool of their cum.

Joel doesn’t ruin this post-orgasmic moment between his younger brother and you, the room is quiet except for the sounds of lip smacking and him smoking. And you’re grateful to him.

When you finally part from each other, Tommy helps you to lie down next to him. The mess between your legs makes you whine and Tommy gets you some tissues and helps you to clean yourself.

Then you settle down next to him on the bed, your cheek on his shoulder and your leg thrown over his thigh.

Meanwhile Joel puts his jeans back on without zipping them up and rests in the chair.

Tommy and you don’t care about the clothes, both reveling in the afterglow. Your eyes are closing when suddenly Tommy asks,

“Do you have any plans for thanksgiving holidays?”

You blink a few times trying to understand the question and gather your thoughts.

“I…Mel invited me to spend them with her family… but I don’t know. Why?” You tilt your head up to look at him.

“I’m moving back to Austin. Gonna live with Joel for now until I find my own place. Maybe you can visit me there. Us.”

Your heart sings and stomach flutters with excitement when you hear his invitation.

“Sounds nice,” you murmur, barely keeping yourself from squealing. Then you look at Joel.

“Would you mind?”

His piercing eyes slide along your naked body, linger on your lips and then lock with yours.

“I wouldn’t. Always nice to have a good pussy in the house.”

You roll your eyes and Tommy shoots Joel a glare before talking to you again,

“What about Christmas?”

You try to hide a wide grin, biting your lower lip.

“You might meet someone by then, daddy. Get yourself a girlfriend,” you murmur, drawing hearts on his chest with your index finger.

“I won’t. I don’t need anyone else.”

He places his hand under your jaw and tilts your head up.

“You’re the only one I need, sweetheart.”

You’re searching for lies in his eyes or his words but don’t find any. Your throat tightens and tears sting your eyes but you blink them away and reach up to give him a kiss. You pour all your love into it, need and desire in every stroke of your lips and tongue.

A few minutes in heaven are interrupted by Joel’s gruff voice,

“Before you swallow each other whole, let’s go find a bar and get me a drink.”

You giggle against Tommy’s lips and turn to your step uncle.

“I know a good place.”

You try to get up but your legs are still weak from all the orgasms, your pussy sore from the double-cock-pounding, so you almost fall, but Tommy’s strong arms help you up.

The brothers smirk and exchange glances, visibly proud of what they’ve done to you, when you stagger to the wardrobe. You’re still leaking and the thought that their cum is going to seep out of your pussy for days, makes you smile.

“Wear something slutty for us, angel,” Joel orders, putting on his mesh top. Then you feel his bulge press to your naked ass as he whispers against your cheek, “And no panties. Wanna play with your messy cunt under the table.”

The vision painted by your mind sends a shiver through your body and your clit twitches.

“Ok, uncle,” you agree and he lightly slaps your ass.

“Good little slut.”

Already dressed, Tommy comes up to your two and you turn around to the men. Joel’s bulge pokes your hip and his sticky gaze slides up and down your body. Tommy places his hand on your asscheek and gives it a gentle squeeze, cooing at you with a warm smile,

“Our good girl.”

You bite your lip, batting your lashes at the men, and purr with a mischievous smile,

“We’re gonna have so much fun together.”

Thank you for reading!❤️ Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! l'd love to hear your thoughts🌺💕

Part 5 || SERIES MASTERLIST |I Tommy’s Visit MASTERLIST

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[teapartyprincess4two]

Parenthood- C. Sturniolo

pairing: Mom!reader x Dad!Chris

classification: SFW & NSFW head cannons

inspiration: request

warnings: some 18+ content, use of y/n, established relationship, I didn’t name the children but Chris has 2 sons in this 👍🏻

summary: head cannons of Dad!Chris.

Parenthood- M. Sturniolo (Matt’s Version)

—

☆SFW

Fatherhood is something that scared Chris beyond belief, but when you broke the news to him he couldn’t contain his excitement. When your son was born, he fell in love immediately, and you both learned to navigate being parents. Then, when you were blessed with a second son, he was even happier.

☆ Chris cherishes every single memory, he’s really sappy about it all. He has a box full of pictures, baby socks, the wristbands from the hospital, everything.

☆ “Chris, some of this is trash,” you chuckle, filtering through the endless trinkets that all seemed to hold significance to him.

☆ “Our son’s first pair of socks isn’t trash, Y/n!” he snatches the box away from you, carefully placing everything back in.

☆ “Okay, but this dirty napkin?”

☆ “I wiped my tears with that. THANK YOU,” he snatches it from you, his sassy demeanor making you laugh.

☆ Chris loves spoiling his son, whether it be with toys and games, or with summer trips.

☆ He goes all out too, splurging on trips to Disney or to elaborate water parks, making sure to book the hotel and everything.

☆ “Babe, he’s 3. He won’t even remember this,” you chuckle, dragging luggage’s behind you.

☆ “Yes you will. Right, son?” Chris coos, bouncing the baby in his arms and blowing a raspberry into his neck. The baby giggles, the sound being music to Chris’s ears.

☆ The whole week it’s just you and Chris going on all the kiddy rides, snapping pictures of your son, and passing out back at the hotel.

☆ When you find out you’re pregnant with your second son, Chris does everything in his power to make your firstborn’s last months as an only child special.

☆ He takes him to the park, cuddles him to sleep every night, and showers that boy in so much love.

☆ Even though Chris is extremely high energy, being a working dad of two is very tiring.

☆ So, when the kids get older, he starts feeling comfortable taking ‘dad naps’ in random spots around the house.

☆ “Chris, babe, can you help me in here really quick?” you’re balancing a fussy baby on your hip, the other hand stirring whatever’s on the stove.

☆ You peer your head outside to see Chris knocked out on the hanging lounge chair. His chin rests on his chest, mouth open and arms crossed as small snores fall past his lips.

☆ Your oldest son holds a long piece of grass, tickling Chris’s nose with it. Your son whispers eerily,“Wake up daaaad. Wake uppppp.” You can’t help but giggle at the sight.

☆ Chris has successfully managed to cement his legacy as the ‘cool dad,’ or at least he thinks he has.

☆ He loves wearing funky graphic t-shirts when he’s chaperoning the kids, “I was young once too. I was the shit back then, kid.”

☆ Your oldest son just rolls his eyes playfully, but in reality he really looks up to Chris.

☆ Your youngest son loves dressing up like his dad, wearing his oversized t-shirts and beanies so big they fall past his eyes.

☆ “Look mom, I look like daddy!” he exclaims, accidentally tripping on the shirt as he runs towards you.

☆ Other times, Chris will throw on some sunglasses and try acting mysterious.

☆ The mysterious act doesn’t last long though, especially not when your youngest son cuddles up next to him for his afternoon nap or when your oldest starts asking for snack money.

☆ At family parties, Chris goes all out. He’s buying a bouncy house, cooking the burgers, renting an ice cream truck, and inviting all of his family.

☆ He loves playing games with his kids, usually forming teams and challenging them, “Alright me and Matt verses you two. Losers have to jump into the pool with their clothes on.”

☆ “Okay, but uncle Nick has to be on our team,” your oldest replies, fully confident in his ability to win his dad.

☆ Nick is then recruited, and surprisingly isn’t needed because your sons are completely obliterating Chris’s team.

☆ Chris isn’t a sore loser, it’s a trait he never wants to subconsciously pass down to his kids, so he’s jumping into the pool fully clothed as his kids watch in a fit of giggles.

☆ Laundry day is easily Chris’s most hated day, especially with two messy children.

☆ He’ll ‘help’ you fold clothes, which really means that he’s toying with the same shirt and flicking through Netflix.

☆ When the kids are asleep, you and Chris will treat yourself to some takeout because that’s the only time you can order food that the kids don’t usually like.

☆ You two are like little rats, hiding in the pantry munching before the kids hear you and wake up.

☆ One small creak and you’re both frantically hiding the food. “THEY’RE COMING!” he whisper shouts, but when no one opens the door you both fall into a fit of laughter at the dramatics.

☆ As your firstborn son gets older, he starts becoming snappy and somewhat rude, as teenagers often do.

☆ And although Chris doesn’t like reprimanding his kids for the smallest things, he can be stern when it’s necessary.

☆ “Watch your fucking mouth, kid. I don’t want to hear shit like that from you again. Go to bed.” Your son is hanging his head down and trudging to his room.

☆ “Don’t you think you were a little harsh on him?” you whisper, holding onto Chris’s arm gently.

☆ “My kids aren’t gonna be disrespectful, especially not to their momma,” he replies, but when he hears your son sniffling in his room the guilt begins chipping away at him.

☆ It doesn’t take Chris long after that to enter your sons room and engulf him in a hug, scolding him in a much softer manner that informs your son that what he did was still wrong, but also that Chris still loves him.

☆ Baseball, basketball, soccer, lacrosse, hockey, football; your sons are doing it all.

☆ Chris is in the stands, cheering so loud that his voice is hoarse by the end of the game. Even when his kid’s team doesn’t win, he’s still so incredibly proud of their performance.

☆ Chris reps the jerseys, attends the practices, and coaches his sons even when they’re at home, “Widen up your stance then throw!”

☆ Whenever there’s an opportunity to make his boys laugh, Chris is taking it.

☆ He picks them up from school wearing big, fake teeth while playing silly songs on the stereo.

☆ Your sons are never embarrassed, they just hold their sides and laugh uncontrollably, “Dad I’m gonna pee, stop!”

☆ He doesn’t spoil his kids, but he definitely buys them an unnecessary amount of things. It’s mostly harmless stuff like toys, games, and sugary snacks.

☆ “They don’t need any more toys, Chris,” you scold, struggling to make space for all of it.

☆ “We don’t need anything, Y/n,” he replies, his inner child going crazy.

☆NSFW

As parents, it can be hard for you and Chris to make time for each other. Your schedules are packed with school, practices, work, and the few free moments in between are used for household chores. But Chris always makes time for you no matter what.

☆ For the most part, you have to be sneaky. During birthday parties or family events, you take advantage of how distracted your kids are and sneak away into an empty room like teenagers.

☆ Your adrenaline is pumping, clumsy fingers undoing his belt as he kisses you feverishly.

☆ “We have to be quick,” you whisper, watching hungrily as he lines himself up with your entrance.

☆ He doesn’t respond, knees wobbling and his animalistic grunts filling the room as he pumps into you quickly.

☆ Chris doesn’t last long, which is slightly embarrassing, but the times you guys have sex are so few and far between that you can’t blame him.

☆ “Sorry,” he whimpers, pulling out and collapsing next to you. “Don’t be sorry,” you smirk, straddling his hips and getting yourself off as he becomes an overstimulated mess.

☆ On date night Chris books a night at a nearby hotel, dropping the kids off with his parents and telling you to get all dolled up.

☆ He dresses up too, meeting you at the hotel bar and flirting with you like it’s his first time meeting you.

☆ “Hey beautiful, come around here often?”

☆ You play along, the butterflies swarming in your stomach despite sharing an entire life with this man, “I do. Never seen a man as handsome as you here before, though.”

☆ A few champagne glasses later, you’re both giddily walking back to the hotel room and making love under the soft lamp light.

☆ Some random mornings, he wakes up fully bricked and no matter how hard he tries to will the erection away it just won’t subside.

☆ “Y/n, baby, are you awake?” he murmurs, pressing soft, sloppy kisses on your exposed shoulders.

☆ You stir awake, a soft yawn escaping your lips as you reply, “I’m awake.”

☆ He pulls you in closer, his erection pressing against the back of your thigh.

☆ “Need some help there?” you chuckle, immediately understanding his intentions. He hums in response, letting you take over as he watches in a lazy haze.

☆ “So beautiful,” he moans, hands caressing and massaging every inch of your body. You can’t help but blush, hiding yourself in the crook of his neck.

☆ “Look at me,” he instructs, he doesn’t want to miss out on a single thing.

☆ “I’m the luckiest guy in the world,” his lips are latched to yours, an overwhelming feeling of love overtaking him as he blows his load inside of you.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: meow 😋 dad Chris anyone? 🎤

- L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[darkcherryharry]

praise you like i should - 2

singer!harry x you wordcount: 4.4k summary: after harry secretly got y/n off right next to his friends, he shows you just how much he loves you for it contains: smut, pussy worship, squirting, multiple orgasms, p+v sex, unprotected sex, let me know if you think anything else needs to be tagged! a/n: hope you like! accepting prompt suggestions if you have any part one here 🍒 (you don't need to read it to read this one 🍒)

You could barely keep it together during dinner. 

Thinking about how Harry had fingered you and made you come right next to his friends had you on the edge of your seat, and you knew Harry wasn’t much better. 

When the movie had finally ended you both made your excuses - probably a bit too quickly - and booked it inside of the hotel to get to the restaurant. 

You knew you wanted to keep the moral high ground of making Harry sit through dinner but at this point it felt like a waste, knowing that underneath the table his cock was probably at least still half hard because it had hardly gone down for the rest of the time you sat on top of it watching the movie. 

You tried to keep it together, you really did, but once your dessert came out you couldn’t resist a little tease. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt to rile him up just before you were going to head back upstairs.

“Do you still have your little problem?” you asked Harry curiously, balancing the teaspoon from your mousse between your lips.

Harry raised an eyebrow at you as if he didn’t know what you were talking about, but his cheeks being pink told a different story. 

“I don’t have any little problems,” Harry mused, cocking his head to the side. “Big problems, maybe,” he offered.

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, having another melt in your mouth spoonful as you looked him over, making sure to bat your lashes as you did. 

“Alright, do you still have your big, massive problem?” You teased, putting on a bit of a husky sexy voice to emphasise the word and causing Harry to burst out in a loud laugh, drawing the attention of a table near you.

He slapped his hand over mouth and had the decency to look embarrassed, giving you the evil eyes before making a small apologetic smile at the other diners and waving them off. 

Once they were successfully distracted he eyed you again, cocking an eyebrow.

“You could find out, if you wanted,” Harry suggested. 

You looked at him curiously, wondering what he was suggesting considering you were sitting on opposite sides of the table before you realised you could work something out. 

As you slipped your heel off of your foot you raised your leg slowly, feeling around for his lower leg before making contact and dragging your pointed toe up the inside.

You kept your eyes locked on Harry as you travelled along his inner thigh, making sure to take it slow as you teased him, even taking another bite of your mousse so that he didn’t think he had your whole attention.

Eventually you reached the apex of his thighs, so you pressed the bottom of your foot against the front of his crotch. You tested how firm he was underfoot, definitely feeling some resistance and that he wasn’t completely soft. 

You watched from across the table as his lips parted when you started to rub your foot slowly against him, your smile turning wicked when you saw his perfect little pouty lips part and his eyes blow out so his pupil almost took over. 

“Doesn’t feel like that big of a problem to me,” you shrugged, still toying with him as he took a ragged breath. 

“You’re such a brat,” Harry replied, so you started to pull your foot away only for his hand to reach under the table at lightning speed and grab your ankle. “You really wanna walk out of here hard?” you asked him incredulously, letting your foot be guided back to his cock as he shuffled forward in his seat to seek more pressure. 

“Don’t care,” Harry replied, his voice a bit more gravelly than it had been before. “Worth it. I’m not gonna come for ages, anyway. Been too hard too long so I won’t last. Need to get you off a handful of times first. Need to worship you,” Harry replied earnestly as he ground himself subtly against your foot. 

“Baby,” you breathed, shaking your head at his desperation. “You’re gone, huh?” 

“Only for you,” Harry answered, glancing around as he squeezed your ankle. “Can we get out of here?” 

“You haven’t even finished your dessert,” you reasoned, but you were hardly against the idea. 

“You’ll taste better. I need you,” Harry responded, finally letting go of your ankle so that you could get your shoe on. He reached both hands beneath the table, presumably adjusting himself to be decent so you could leave, before quickly standing up to take your hand and guide you to your room.

And that’s how you’d wound up here, Harry pressing you against the front door the minute you got inside and locking it while he used his hips to pin you. 

“You look so beautiful tonight, y/n,” Harry murmured to you. You could feel the outline of his cock pressing against your stomach, his hands grabbing your hips and your waist as he dove in to kiss your neck. 

“Thank you H,” you replied, making a small moan when he roughly grabs your hip and the side of your arse. 

“I need you so badly. I can’t believe you let me make you come while we were just sitting with the band,” Harry insisted. It was like he was all around you, crowding your senses as you managed to get enough wherewithal to bring your hands up to lace around his neck. 

“Yeah? Did you like doing that?” you asked coyly as Harry moaned and rocked himself against you, flattening you against the door completely. 

“Fucking hell I did. Thought I was going to come just from how you felt around my fingers. You’re so fucking sexy,” Harry insisted, starting to tug at your dress and ruck it upwards, so he had handfuls of it and your thighs were exposed.

“Please let me have you, baby, I need you,” Harry begged softly, kissing down your neck and then onto your chest. Your dress was low cut enough that he could kiss between your breasts, his mouth hot and wet against your skin as he sucked the top of one in a noisy kiss.

“We’re barely in the room, H,” you complained, but it was half hearted as he rucked up your dress further and exposed your panties. He’d not given you any time to change, so they were still wet from earlier - and honestly from most of the dinner, since every little thing your boyfriend did turned you on.

“I don’t care. I need your pussy. Please y/n,” Harry insisted, moaning as he kissed your tits one more time before pushing your dress up higher, exposing your stomach. He started to sink slowly to his feet and dragged his lips over your torso, moaning and kissing and trying to convince you to stay. 

“You really are desperate, aren’t you H?” you asked him softly, watching him lick over your belly and suck on your hips before pressing his face directly against the triangle of your panties. He moaned on an inhale, his lips parting and you watched the sharp angle of his jaw as he greedily licked the fabric to get even just a trace of your wet. 

“More than. Want me to beg? I’ll beg you y/n. Your pussy’s not like anything else in the world. It’s the gate to heaven. It tastes so sweet and I’m the luckiest person in the whole world because it’s all mine,” Harry begged. 

“Please let me eat you out. I need to taste you. Need to make you come over and over so you know how mad you drive me, how desperate I am for you,” he added, moaning emphatically as he grabbed your thigh and slung it over his own shoulder so you were slightly more exposed. 

“Oh my god, Harry,” you mumbled, overwhelmed with how pretty his green eyes looked when he his mouth was on your cunt and begging for a taste. “Okay, okay, you can do it here,” you granted, his hand that remained on your thigh squeezing tightly. 

“Thank you thank you thank you,” Harry responded, turning his head to kiss your inner thigh and then lick it, sucking to make a small mark and nosing his way back up towards your pussy. 

He then licked over the panties again, licking lower so he was closer to your hole than your clit and moaning to himself as he soaked your panties as if they weren’t already basically wet. 

“You taste so amazing. Do you care about these panties?” Harry asked you, and as soon as you shook your head no, he reached up with both hands and pulled firmly at the waistband to rip them apart, rather than remove your thigh from his shoulder.

You were secretly glad, both because it was hot and because Harry’s supportive weight under your thigh was the only thing keeping your knees from buckling and he’d hardly even started.

Harry desperately pulled at the panties so they travelled down your other thigh, enough so that you were out and exposed. Your dress was coming down almost over his head now that he’d let go of it, so you grabbed a handful and pulled it up, giving him some room to work with but also making it so that you could see him. 

He’d not even had the chance to take any of his own clothes off yet, still fully dressed in his trousers and button up you’d insisted he changed into, seeing as you were on a date and it was a nice restaurant, of course. 

“I love you,” Harry insisted earnestly once he caught sight of your pussy properly, pressing a kiss straight to your pubic bone. “I love your pussy. I love making you feel good, you’re so perfect,” Harry insisted, whispering his praise against your skin and giving you goosebumps.

You could feel the throb of your blood pumping in your clit, the teasing and the waiting driving you insane, even if his worship was making your heart feel full your arousal was definitely taking over. 

“Harry, please,” you whined softly, watching his eyes flicker up at you and his smile turn just a touch deadly before he leant in closer and rested his lips against your labia. 

“Please what, my angel?” he asked, his breath hot as he spoke and you squirmed as he started to press kisses over where you split open, the promise not quite enough stimulation to do anything more than tease further.

“Need your tongue,” you responded, gasping when Harry sucked lightly on your labia, like he might on your bottom lip when you were kissing. 

“Of course, my love. Anything for you,” Harry responded, moaning softly before tipping his head down so he could get right where you were wettest. He stuck his tongue between your lips and licked a fat stripe through you, making you cry out in pleasure and your free hand fly to grab his hair. 

“Oh fuck, Harry, yeah, just like that,” you encouraged, holding his head in place so he couldn’t escape quite so easily.

You felt the intrusion of his wet tongue again, sliding easily against you and his fingertips digging in where they were grabbing the fleshiest parts of your thighs. Then he went for it, licking and sucking like he was ravenous and this was the last meal he’d ever have. 

The sounds he was making were borderline ridiculous, wet and slurping with desperation as he fucked you with his tongue and got your wet all over his cheeks. You doubled over in pleasure as he played with you exactly how you liked it, and it was only after a long while of focusing on your hole that he came up for air.

Harry gasped loudly, his breath heaving but he barely got a mouthful or two in before going back for more, his mouth working its way slowly and surely upwards and towards your clit. 

As soon as his lips wrapped around it he sucked the small bundle of nerves, making you moan even louder and your hand grip tightly in his hair. 

“Harry, fuck, please,” you moaned, your body spasming as he licked fat stripes over your clit instead, clearly wanting everything to be as wet as possible.

“D’you think you could squirt on me?” Harry asked in a gravelly tone, sucking your clit again slowly as if that would help you answer and not just completely distract you.

“Um, uh,” you stammered. He’d made you do it in the past, but it didn’t always work, so you weren’t quite sure if you could do it on command. “I can try,” 

“Perfect,” Harry praised, running his tongue through the length of your pussy a few more times for good measure before he properly locked on to your clit, starting to suck on it rhythmically and run his tongue around in circles to possibly drive you mad.

You’d made the mistake of telling Harry your favourite toy to use when he was gone was your rosebud clit sucker, and boy had he done his research to try and replicate it. It was even better though, because Harry’s mouth was warm and wet and he could somehow read exactly what your body wanted.

“Oh my fucking god,” you cried out, thumping your head back against the door as you arched your hips to angle yourself more into Harry’s mouth. Your breathing started to get laboured, and even though it was so hot earlier, it was so nice now to be able to be as loud as you wanted. 

Harry was relentless in his pleasure, and when the crest of your orgasm started to get closer you concentrated your energy into bearing down, just like you had the few other times Harry had made you squirt. It felt like an intense pressure, building and building inside of you and when Harry did something that felt borderline illegal with his tongue you started to come.

Much to your relief you felt - and heard - yourself squirt in a gush between your legs. The sensation of release amplified your orgasm tenfold, and though you were starting to thrash about in overwhelm of pleasure, Harry managed to stay locked right on your clit as you rode the waves of your orgasm though.

You panted and whined, your body starting to twitch towards the end when he still hadn’t let up and you weakly pushed his head away to not much avail.

“Harry,” you panted, your legs feeling so weak that if Harry wasn’t holding you up you absolutely would have sunk to the ground. He let go of your clit - thank god - but that didn’t stop him from licking you lower and sucking desperately to get the taste.

“You’re so fucking sexy. Need you to come again,” Harry insisted, moaning to himself as he cleaned you up, licking where you’d dripped down your thigh before coming back up near your clit and sucking again.

“Ah,” you cried out, tugging his hair properly and finally managing to look down at him as you pulled him back.

Harry’s face was wet. You hadn’t realised you’d squirted that much, but the front of his shirt and even his trousers were soaked all because of you. 

“Please, y/n. That was everything. I’ve never felt more turned on in my life. I need to make you come again, you deserve it,” Harry begged, licking his lips and staring up at you with wild eyes as you kept a firm grip on his hair. 

You took a moment to catch your breath, clearing your throat and blinking a few times before nodding.

“Okay, but gentle,” you insisted. 

“I can do gentle. Thank you baby,” Harry insisted as you let go of the tight grip of his hair and instead carded your hand through it softly, admiring how insane he was for you and feeling warm low in your belly.

Harry leaned in slower this time, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he extended his tongue for a cursory flick against your clit, clearly testing the waters as he pushed around until he got direct access. He circled it slowly with an open mouth, the light sensation driving you just as wild as the intense sucks had now that you had already come once.

“That’s better,” you praised, so Harry smiled and pressed in against you once more, continuing the light and gentle turns of his tongue. You felt his hand sneak around, a more guttural moan leaving your lips as he sunk two of his fingers inside of your pussy at once. 

He didn’t thrust them or anything, just curling them to touch your clit from the inside and turn circles against it like he had on the bus. That combined with his gently tongue on your clit had your inner thighs starting to shake, so Harry used his free hand to press you into the door so you were pinned for support.

Your second orgasm - or your third, you supposed, if you counted a few hours ago - started to build low in your gut, getting imminently closer when Harry closed his lips carefully around your clit and started to suck again. It was almost too much but he made sure it was just perfect, the lightest little ministrations combined with his long fingers as if he were drawing it out of you and knew everything you were feeling.

Even though you were expecting it it still somehow snuck up on you, rocking through your body and making your hips buck up into Harry’s mouth as your eyes rolled back. It was slower and slightly less intense, but made your toes curl nevertheless and had you wondering when your shoe had managed to fall off. 

This time you got overstimulated quickly after your orgasm faded so you pulled his mouth away quicker, looking down at him somewhat desperately. 

“H,” you mumbled, not sure what you needed but Harry seemed to get the picture. He slipped his fingers out of you and guided your thigh off of his shoulder, keeping a firm grip on it as he got to his feet and started to support you with both hands.

“I got you, baby. You’re fucking amazing. You’re my star, baby, that was… god,” Harry rambled quietly, kissing over your neck before kissing up to your face. He was still wet from your pussy but you didn’t really care, happy enough to kiss him back lazily and be felt up as you remained pinned to the door. 

“Felt so good,” you insisted when you could get a word in, letting Harry adore you some more and feeling quite lazy and weak from your multiple orgasms, almost slumping all your weight onto Harry. 

“Can I fuck you y/n? Right here?” Harry asked you softly once you’d managed to catch your breath. The idea of it sounded nice, really, Harry filling you up. You knew he wouldn’t last too long given how hard he felt, but it would be the perfect end to this round of sex for the evening. Then he could clean you up in the shower, maybe a bath for round two, and then bed for round three. 

If you were lucky you’d wake up in the middle of the night for round four. You had to make use of the hotel room, after all. 

“Yeah, baby. Can’t stand though,” you pouted, the words barely leaving your lips before Harry reached behind you and scooped you up. He used his hips to pin you as he adjusted your dress again to give him the best access, then he eyed you with a grin.

“You know I’ll look after you, darling,” Harry told you, reaching for the straps of your dress and guiding them down your shoulders. He admired your bra, tracing the edges of it softly and taking his time even though you knew he’d be dying for it. 

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I’ll never be more blessed than I am being with you,” Harry insisted, reaching beneath you both to unzip his trousers and let them fall down his legs, getting his underwear down enough too and before you knew it he had one arm supporting your weight and the other guiding his cock to swipe against your pussy. 

He looked a state, his wet shirt and his mussed up hair. But he was beautiful, and he was going to fuck you good, so you never really minded in the first place.

“You’re beautiful too, baby,” you encouraged to Harry, gripping his waist with your thighs. You reached behind yourself, balancing against the door with your shoulder blades to give you enough room to unhook your bra and swiftly took it off, dropping it to the floor purely so Harry could enjoy your tits while he fucked you. 

“Fuck, y/n. You drive me crazy,” Harry insisted, finally tilting up to sink into you and letting you slide down on his cock. He got two big handfuls of your arse to keep you in place, and you watched as a serene expression melted all over his face from finally getting his dick wet.

“Told you, it’s heaven,” Harry insisted, leaning in to kiss you slowly. He stayed still inside of you to let you adjust, a hand wandering up to your tit and ever so softly circling your nipple until it hardened. 

“Yeah? You think so?” you asked Harry back, kissing him slowly and lazily for as long as he’d let you. 

“Know so. You ready?” Harry asked you softly.

“Yeah, babe,” you answered, but you still gasped when he gripped your thighs harder to pin you properly and started to fuck you against the wall. The first few thrusts was all he gave you to adjust before he started fucking you hard and fast, jerking your body up with each thrust as he rolled inside of you again and again.

His cock felt amazing, the perfect thickness and length and it was the only cock you wanted to take for the rest of your life.

You moaned and tipped your head back, deciding he deserved a treat so you moved one hand to your tit and grabbed it for his view, playing for a few moments with your nipple until the pleasure slowly turned into something you were just doing for yourself.

Harry didn’t seem to mind though, his eyes glued on you as he thrusted in and out of your pussy, his biceps looking swollen under his shirt. You wished you’d had time to get him to take it off so you could see them properly as he held you up against the wall, but you felt rest assured you’d see them later.

You felt them out instead, squeezing the firm muscle and making small little noises every time Harry got really deep. The gravity of the situation really added something, like when you rode him, making him feel like he was really splitting you open. 

“Gonna come in me, baby?” you tempted Harry, looking him over as you kept playing with your own tit, feeling the other one bounce on each thrust.

“Oh my god, yeah. You gonna come?” Harry panted, clearly getting a work out from fucking you like this, but you knew he had the stamina to work it out. 

You nodded, squeezing down on his cock with your pelvic floor and messing with his rhythm for a second or two while you made yourself tighter. 

“Yeah, think so. Come on your cock so you’ll fill me up,” you whispered to him, arching your back and relaxing yourself so that Harry’s thrusts could make you come. 

“Yeah, yeah, please, baby,” Harry begged you. You felt like you’d have tiny little bruises from his fingers littered up your thigh tomorrow but it hardly mattered, because right now you felt so good.

You really committed to this orgasm, letting the repetitive sensation of Harry’s cock sliding in and out of you guide you there. You kept playing with your sensitive nipple, squeezing and pulling it out and closing your eyes for a moment as you got yourself closer and closer.

Once you opened your eyes again, half lidded, all it really took to push you over the edge was to see how your boyfriend was staring reverently at you, the desperation in his eyes like he’d never known such bliss. You kept your eyes on him as you started to come again, crying out and clenching down on his cock firmly and stilting his rhythm again. 

Harry fucked up into you harder, moaning himself and pressing closer so he could bury his head in your neck and grapple at your hips. 

“Oh fuck, y/n,” Harry grunted, and you could feel from his sharp, slow thrusts that he was coming inside of you. You moaned and did your best to stay clenching on him, though your pussy was fluttering anyway from the aftershocks of your own orgasm.

Harry’s breath was hot against your neck as he kissed you, and you felt physically a bit gross, but you were properly sated. You didn’t think it could ever get any better than what Harry gave you, since it felt like the world. 

“I love you baby,” you whispered to him once he stilled, still inside of you for now but you knew he was through his orgasm too.

“I love you too, my love,” Harry responded, picking his head up to kiss your lips. “Words aren’t enough,” he assured you. 

“Yeah,” you answered blissfully, giving him another kiss back and tilting your head up as you tried to catch your breath. “You’ll have to keep doing this to show me in actions instead,” you breathed. 

Harry giggled at you, fucking you just minutely with his half hard cock as if to teach you a lesson. 

“I can do that,”

[nelle-y]

I loved your recent Alhaitham fic! I was wondering if you would consider writing a pt. 2 where Alhaitham regrets how he treated you and attempts to win you back (maybe 4ggravate finds out and attempts to help Alhaitham to win you back)? I understand if not. Thank you for sharing your writing!

Thank you so much for liking my first fic! Feel free to request anything genshin-related and I’ll try my best to provide!

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath (pt. 2)

It was rare, I was there

Here’s part 1!

Synopsis: despite the neglect and everything that happened, you both still longed for each other…

Content: Alhaitham x fem!reader, wingmen!4ggravate, implied Dehyarzad, Collei, absent Cyno, Tighnari, second chances, writer!reader, angst to comfort, reader is with someone else

Warnings: slight cursing, long intro again (I can’t help it), mild spoilers for Sumeru archon quest chapter 3 act 2, Collei goes missing

Note: this part can be optional for you. If you prefer to end it at part one, then feel free to do so! But, if you’re a sucker for second chances (like me), then consider this a treat from me to you!

—

Nothing. You could hear nothing.

Not your heart pounding to the rhythm of your feet. Not the screaming in your head as you spotted familiar grey hair walking around the city. Your thoughts immediately tasted bitter—if he had the time to walk now, how come he hadn’t back then?

You surmise that you weren’t worth the step.

The weight of his absence hung over you like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the warmth of the day. Despite your efforts to push the pain aside, it crept back, heavy and suffocating. Your mother's words echoed in your mind like a haunting refrain, a reminder that perhaps you had been foolish to invest so much in someone who couldn't reciprocate your love.

The shops were as busy and ever; merchant services, inquiries about products, scholars out in the open. You were out for groceries, almost ashamed for showing your face after the scene you caused 15 days ago. The world needed to know you were strong, though, so you put a big smile on your face and a new perfume worth Alhaitham’s salary. You even reached out to Cyno about the book you mentioned; so far, everything has been accurate, according to him.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called to you. Turning your head in that direction, you see Dehya in the distance waving at you. Once you’ve said hello, she looked at you with a smirk on her face, “Wow, did a flower barf on you? You look radiant!”

“Radiant?” You humble yourself, “I don’t remember putting on any jewelry.”

“No, silly!” She gestured to your everything, “There’s this aura you’re emitting and it’s making you glow!” Glow? All you did these past few days was cry, eat, and write. Perhaps it was the tears that helped. They irritated your eyes so much it gave you a softer, more approachable look. “Do you think you could lend me some of that eyeshadow?”

Try crying every hour, Dehya. “Ah, I just did a favor for a friend studying cosmetology. I’m not entirely sure what products they used,” you lie. Thinking about Alhaitham will certainly eat you alive; you change the subject despite the flattery you enjoyed. “What brings you to the city?”

Enthusiasm spouts from the mercenary, “My lady Dunyarzad invited me over for the Sabzeruz Festival; and you know me, I gotta be there for my lady!”

You found it adorable—almost enviable—how they still keep in touch even after Dehya’s resignation. Call a spade a spade, that is real commitment. It makes you wonder if you’d be here, ‘radiant’ and ‘glowing,’ if you were treated that way.

“The Sabzeruz Festival? I didn’t realize it was so close. Wow, time surely flies.” Suddenly, you feel excitement rush through your veins, a new experience after days of steady tides.

“Couldn’t agree more,” said Dehya. From a distance, you both heard Dunyarzad call her name. “Ah, it looks like she needs me back there. I better go check on her. If you want, you should totally come over the bazaar once the festival is ready. Dunyarzad and I would be lucky to have you celebrate with us!” After you gave an accepting nod and farewell, Dehya ran off to the woman in purple, practically skipping on her feet.

As you watched their lively interaction, a surge of envy and longing swept through you. Their easy camaraderie and genuine happiness a stark contrast to the emptiness and loneliness gnawing at your insides. You had longed to experience that kind of connection, to be enveloped in the warmth of love and companionship once more. But deep down, you knew it was a distant dream, a fantasy you could never reclaim.

You weren’t a religious person, but out of sheer desperation, you prayed.

Lesser Lord Kusanali, please free me from this torment. Let the flowers in my garden bloom of life, let the fruits grow ripe even without much sun, let the trees reach the highest of buildings.

—

Simple greetings and little nods, Alhaitham wouldn’t have minded if those scholars were you. In fact, instead of returning those nods and hellos, he would embrace you, lift your feet off the ground and spin you around like you always wanted.

After you stormed out the tavern, Cyno went ahead and asked what happened to the both of you. For the first time, he couldn’t give a straight answer. Every excuse seemed to damage your image, and that was the last thing he wanted. Kaveh ended up taking over to save him the embarrassment.

The 15 days he burned for you were like falling into the abyss, fighting every day to the brink of death, unable to eat the sustenance that came from your warmth.

The now Scribe Alhaitham needed something to keep you off his mind. He considered attending a meeting, but none seemed to pique his interest. Every thought ended up on your doorstep, making him think of dropping by. “Kaveh,” he called the architect scribbling on his notebook, “have you seen Y/N, as of late?”

“No, she hasn’t been feeling well these past few weeks. Shouldn’t you be in a meeting?”

“Shouldn’t you be paying rent?”

Kaveh cursed at Alhaitham, “I’m trying to make the money, goddamit!”

“Maybe you would have the money if you stopped settling for your clients’ low budgets.”

“Is it hard to find me considerate?”

“I’d rather call it pathetic.”

“Go catch whatever Y/N has,” he shooed Alhaitham away, “maybe that would give you some perspective.”

The scribe stood silent for a few seconds. He knew his roommate was right, he should’ve thought about how you felt before anything. Kaveh was about to believe he had won a squabble for once, but then he suddenly revealed, “Y/N… is angry at me.”

Kaveh pshawed at him, “With the way you talked to her? No shit.” Alhaitham didn’t move an inch. “Hey, what happened there, anyway? It wasn’t like Y/N to burst out to you like that. Are you hiding something?”

With a sigh, the grey-haired man decided to reveal everything to his roommate. He listened intently, gasping and scolding him for his lack of attention towards you, adding salt to his open wounds. Upon recalling the words the scribe had said, Kaveh took a slight breath, “You fucked up.”

“I know.”

“You need to go fix this.”

“I know.”

“And you were calling me pathetic!”

“I know! I just-“ he couldn’t believe he was saying this. “I need help.”

As he was popularly known, Alhaitham wasn’t one to ask for help. Not because he had too much pride, but because he knew how to solve things like the back of his hand. He had access to numerous files from the Akasha, and he had connections to powerful people, being the scribe and all.

But this was a different situation. Every solution did not guarantee a 100% success rate, 87% at best, and that was not enough for Alhaitham. He was ready to do anything for you, to get on his knees and raise you to the highest regard, to even beg.

“I could ask Tighnari,” Kaveh began, “The Sabzeruz Festival is coming soon, maybe you could ask her out?”

Right, now that he’s perceived as a hero of his nation, he is expected to attend these festivals. He never bothered to come before, and he wouldn’t now, but he was willing to if it meant getting to see you again. “I don’t think she’ll be accepting me as her date.”

“Then we’ll talk to her.”

“Will she be willing to listen? Wait, isn’t she sick?”

Kaveh sighed, downhearted, “Right.” Then he clicked his fingers at the scribe, “I have an idea!”

—

“Collei? What are you doing here,” you said after opening your door. She drew a small grin with worried eyes, holding a box of goods for you. It’s been a while since you saw her, she grew up well, taller since your last meeting.

“Hello, miss Y/N! I heard from Master Tighnari that you weren’t feeling well,” yes, you distinctly remember lying to them (Tighnari, and Kaveh) so they wouldn’t see you as often. “So I thought I could bring you simple remedies.” The little girl observed you. “But now I think there’s no need for that,” she chuckled.

“Ah, yeah, don’t worry, it was just a small cold. Speaking of Tighnari, how come he isn’t here with you?” You ushered her in and sat her down for some tea, placing her box of medicines on the counter.

“He had some business to attend to with a merchant and allowed me to visit you. It’s been a while since you’ve travelled to Gandharva Ville, miss Y/N, do you have any plans on visiting?”

“Yes, I’m thinking of basing the rainforest as the main setting for my new book, actually.”

You both chatted about everything you could as you waited for the water to boil. Afterwards, you served a hot teapot, dwelling in mint and lotus herbs. “Ah, Collei, how long are you and Tighnari staying in the city?”

“Just for three days, though I would like to stay until after the Sabzeruz Festival,” she chuckles, holding her now warm cup in her hands.

“You could come with me if Tighnari would allow it.”

The little girl’s eyes beamed with stars, “Really? Oh, I’ve been dreaming of going to one for ages! Miss Nilou will be performing, right?” You nod to her delight, “Yes! Archons, I really hope Master would let me.”

As if he heard his name, Tighnari knocked on your door. Opening it, he looked glad seeing your healthy state. “Y/N! Good to see you’re feeling well now.” He peaked behind you to see Collei sip from her cup.

Upon recognizing her master, Collei got up and greeted him. “Hi, Master! Miss Y/N and I were just talking about the Sabzeruz Festival, and that I could come with her to see Miss Nilou perform!” Her enthusiasm was as contagious as a cold, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“As long as it wouldn’t be a hassle for Y/N, and that you would always be careful when purchasing products,” Tighnari worries like a mother. “Always look at the expiration dates, check if there are anything you’re allergic to.”

He goes on and on for about 5 minutes until you cut him off, “Alright, alright, Tighnari, it’s not like she’ll be going all alone; she has me with her!”

With this, Collei wrapped her arms around your waist, ever so thankful for your support. You thought of her as a niece, and she thought of you as an auntie, willing to give her advice on anything, trivial or not. After a few more words exchanged, and details for the festival, the pair decide to head to their cottage.

For once, you enjoyed your time and not think of Alhaitham once!

Oops.

—

It was the day of the Sabzeruz Festival; you had already picked Collei up from their cottage and are on your way to the Grand Bazaar. You could see thousands of attendees, travelling merchants, and familiar faces on the way.

As the vibrant colors and lights of the festival unfolded before you, the once a source of excitement and anticipation now loomed before you like a daunting reminder of what you had done. Despite Dehya's invitation, you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of joyous revelry. Each smile, each laugh felt like a dagger to your already wounded heart, a painful reminder of the love you had lost and the embarrassment that now consumed you.

But this was no time for dwelling upon the memories that brought misery, remember, Collei is counting on you to give her a good time.

“Y/N, Collei!” You spot Kaveh in the distance waving and walking your way. Collei happily waved back. “I’m so glad I could run into you guys, you have no idea how terrified I am of meeting a client by accident.”

You laughed, “Do I have to accompany you, too, Kaveh?”

“Actually, I was thinking of letting you have some fun while I take care of little Collei here.” He ruffles her neatly-done hair, now messy but more natural-looking. This led Collei to bring out a small comb to fix it.

You felt irresponsible leaving Collei in someone else’s care, you’d said you would take care of her, and it felt like you would be breaking a promise if you agreed to his offer. You tuck your hair behind your ear, “I don’t know, Kaveh, something feels wrong about that, no offense. Plus, if something were to happen to Collei, we wouldn’t hear the end of it; you wouldn’t like Tighnari when he’s angry.”

“A fair point, but you’ve been locked up in your house for two weeks, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. You deserve to be out there, butterfly, spread the wings you grew from being in that cocoon!”

That somehow felt too specific. Does he know something? Collei starts to agree, despite seeming so excited to go with you. “Even you, Collei?” You sigh, “Fine, but if something happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You weren’t expecting to have so much fun here. The lights, the music, even the people were a blast! At first you were anxious for Collei, checking in from time to time, then as you continued to do so, your vists would be more spaced apart. You drank some punch with Dehya and Dunyarzad, who seemed to be doing really well for themselves, then you danced with the crowd in the name of Lesser Lord Kusanali.

After all of that, it was time for one last dance before Nilou’s grand performance. The band began to play a soft, romantic folk song. “Alright, Sumeru City,” called the lead singer, their voice sonorous with seduction, “before we settle down for the reknowned Nilou, let’s have a little treat for all the couples out there. So, grab your partner and dance along.”

Just as you were at the height of excitement, everything seemed to come crashing down again. You stood on the sidelines, feeling lost and out of place. Dehya and Dunyarzad swayed together, hand in hand. A lot of other couples came together and danced. The passion embedded in the song they sang only made you feel more alone, the walls of the Grand Bazaar growing taller and taller as you gazed upon them in longing.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, a man you don’t remember meeting. “Excuse me, miss, could I trouble you with a dance?” He looked about your age, a nice smile and an energetic demeanor. You were cautious of his intentions, though. It’s possible to have fun while maintaining a distance, right?

You accepted his invitation, all of the sudden you felt a sick knot in your stomach, like you were cheating on Alhaitham. But you weren’t together anymore, why would you stop yourself from meeting new people?

The man said his name was Hafan, a mercenary from the Corps of Thirty. He offered to buy you a drink once the dance was over, and again, you gladly accepted while the sweat in your palms said otherwise. You talked with every step you took, getting to know each other and telling stories. He made you laugh—a lot—and you impressed him with your witty comebacks. Perhaps this was the Dendro Archon’s response to your prayer? A hand to guide you through the maze, and to help you believe in love again?

But just amidst the merry atmosphere of the festival, a lingering anxiousness settled within your stomach.

Then, you saw him.

Alhaitham stood in the corner of the room, the desperate merchants and harmonizing of the band seemed to die down as time stood still. The vibrant colors faded into shades of grey as your heart clenched with a mixture of dread and longing.

It was as if a gate had opened within you, unleashing a torrent of emotions you had struggled to contain. Guilt gnawed at your conscience, regret tore your chest open, and love gave your heart to him.

As Hafan twirled you gracefully across the makeshift floor, you held your gaze with Alhaitham, your heart torn between the past and the present, between what was and what could’ve been.

Maybe you had been thinking too rashly, maybe he had changed over the course of your absence. The way he looked at you with such burning could not make you think otherwise.

In that moment, with all the crowds in the festival and the ache of your fractured heart, you knew for certain—no matter how hard you deny it, no matter how fast you tried to run, you could never escape the grasp he had on your soul.

The dance had ended, though it felt like it just started. Before Hafan could get that drink he promised, you said, “I’m sorry, Hafan.” He looked at you in confusion. “You must be looking for someone to—I don’t know—spend the rest of the festival with, and I don’t think I can fulfill that position. You’re a sweet guy, truly, I’m just not in a good place for anything right now.” Archons, you sounded ridiculous. But to your suprise, the man hardly took it personally.

“It’s okay, I get it. I had fun with you tonight, Y/N. You’re a great person to be around.” You almost regret having to end your time with him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” He gave you a nod of farewell and left your side.

You looked in the direction of Alhaitham, again, hoping to catch that feeling of familiarity, but you had found he was no longer there. Perhaps it was your imagination.

You then searched for Collei and Kaveh, but they were nowhere to be found. They weren’t near the stalls, or in front of the stage.

They were nowhere in the bazaar.

The panic you felt shook your entire foundation, the pillars that kept you from going back home, back to the pain.

What if they had been kidnapped? You trusted Kaveh’s words, that he would take care of her, but for all you know they could be in the middle of the desert right now! What if Kaveh had run into a client and got distracted? What if Collei got injured or hospitalized?

Your heart began beating in your ears, your breath hastened with every thump. The air seemed so thin in the enclosed space, you needed to go outside. Yes, perhaps you could have a better chance at finding them out there, too.

As you walked out the doors of the Grand Bazaar, Collei’s name immediately echoed through the night. “Collei!” After numerous calls left with no answers, lumps of tears began crawling down your cheeks. “Oh my archon,” you sobbed. You could imagine the look on Tighnari’s face, the worry, the anger, the disappointment.

The feeling of losing them was clawing to your soul, like a mother bird losing her chick after their first flight. If they go missing, it was your fault. That fact will forever stain your soul, haunting your remaining days until the sweet release of death.

You sat on a curb, just near the entrance of the bazaar in hopes that the little girl and the architect would return unharmed. More tears had revealed themselves as your thoughts grew more and more intense, terrorizing, even.

The streets were so quiet, only the music from the festival and the first chirps of the crickets seemed to fill your ears, your sobs excluded. No guards or matras were present with you. Who the hell was in charge of security here!? The starry sky brought a comfortable cold instead of blazing heat.

You then heard footsteps from the bazaar and a person sitting beside you. “I walked them home,” a gruff voice sounded, “Collei was getting tired.”

Just your luck, the man who sat with you was no other than Alhaitham. Despite the conflicting emotions that came to you in a flash, you were relieved that Collei was safe. You let out a heavy breath. “Thank you,” you sniff, brushing away the tears that stained your face.

It was quiet again, for a while. You could hear Nilou’s music from outside; “Collei would’ve loved seeing Nilou dance,” you thought aloud. “I remember her basking about it when she had just became Tighnari’s pupil.” Suddenly, you felt calmer, safer now that the eerie silence accompanied you with the presence of the man you knew as well as breathing.

—

Alhaitham couldn’t say anything, busying himself gazing upon your eyes and your weakly pulled smile. There was still sadness lingering within them, covered by a coating of relief. He felt remorse for taking Collei away from you, for making you worry like this, for leaving you in the dark for a long, long time. Nonetheless, he was happy it led to you talking to him again. He was almost certain this day would never come.

Then he is reminded of you dancing with another man. His heart pounded erratically against his chest, each beat echoing the tumultuous storm of emotions raging within him. He had come to the festival in search of hope and redemption, a fleeting reprieve from the pain that chewed up his soul. But instead, he had found more heartache, contrary to the plan.

As he watched you twirl and sway with the man’s hand in yours, he felt as though the world tilted off its axis, leaving him teetering on the precipice of anguish. How could you be dancing so freely with another when every fiber of his being yearned to hold you so close, to feel the warmth you gave him once more?

His hands clenched into fists against his knees, his jaw tightened with unexpressed emotion. He remembered how badly he wanted to look away, but the flow of your hair and how gracefully you moved wouldn’t let him, it was as if you had casted a spell upon him, forever tormenting him to stay on the sidelines, to repress the overwhelming desire to be the one twirling you around and making you smile.

A surge of conflicting emotions washed over him—a searing pang of jealousy intertwined with a profound sense of regret and longing. Then just when he was ready to cross the bridge that separated you, he felt a small tug on his darkened cape. “Mr. Scribe Alhaitham,” Collei said meekly, sheepishly rubbing her eyes, “Did the plan work?”

He remembers Kaveh’s words, so filled with determination, She’ll do anything for Collei, so if she asks to go to the festival, Y/N will for sure accompany her! Once the slow dance starts, that’s when you’ll swoop in and declare your love.

And if it doesn’t work?, the scribe raised his eyebrows.

It will! I’ll make sure no one gets near her.

Boy, did that plan go to shit.

He gave the little girl a soft smile despite the mind-numbing pain in his chest. He knelt down to her level, “Isn’t Kaveh supposed to be with you?”

“Someone was talking to him just a while ago. It seemed pretty heated, so I slipped away when I got the chance,” she yawned.

“Of course,” Alhaitham muttered. Must be a client of his. “You look tired, Collei.”

“I think I’m ready to go home now, Mr. Alhaitham.” The drowsiness in her eyes could barely hold her awake. It was getting late, she must not be used to staying up at times like these.

Alhaitham looked back at you, wondering if you were still keeping your eyes on him. To no avail, it was like you had vanished like a ghost with the beautiful, painful sight he had witnessed along with you. A heavy feeling lingered in his chest, leaving him to wonder if you would lock your gaze with him again. Then he left, accompanying Collei back to her and Tighnari’s cottage.

On his way back to the bazaar for reasons unknown, he found you weeping in your hands, curled up like a shriveled bug beaten down, calling out Collei’s name. After he assured you of the little girl’s safety, you began talking about your experiences with her. Ever so glad, he listened to your voice, melodious and soothing like a lullaby to put him to sleep. The euphoria he experienced was one like no other, it was the first time he felt at peace for eons against the stars and the cool breeze. Then, he wondered, were you feeling the same?

“They found a new Grand Sage,” he announced.

“Is that why you have the time now?” Your words stung his morality, picking on the weak scabs of his mistakes.

He took a moment to respond. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Unable to meet his gaze, you managed a casual tone, “I know, Alhaitham.” His name sounded like a song whenever it came from your lips. “Besides, it’s not your fault.” Your voice was then hoarse of emotion, fingers picking at the dirt beneath you. “I shouldn’t have let myself to get lost in my own thoughts.”

“But I should’ve been there for you,” Alhaitham insisted. “I should not have made you feel like you were alone.”

“But it happened anyway.”

For a moment, silence enveloped the space between you, only broken by the distant sounds of the festival. Then, slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, in a light that had no remorse, for the first time since you told him to leave.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you admitted, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “But I do know I’m willing to try.”

With this, Alhaitham took you in a warm embrace, letting out a shaky breath as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He then held you by the shoulders, teary as you released him from this torture. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right again.”

As you looked into his eyes, you found the sincerity in his voice, determination reflecting upon his irises. Despite everything that had happened, you couldn’t deny the hope that ignited in your stomach. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to find your way back together.

You held his hands first, then traced your way to his cheeks, warm with anticipation. Then you pulled him into a kiss that was long overdue, Alhaitham almost tumbling from the force you had exerted.

As your lips meet, there is a softness, a tenderness in the way they press together, as if each touch carries the weight of a thousand whispered promises. Time seems to stand still as you both lose yourselves in the sensation, senses heightened by the intoxicating blend of warmth and desire. It's a symphony of sensations—a gentle caress, a fleeting brush of lips, a silent exchange of emotions that speaks volumes without a single word. And in that fleeting moment, you find solace, connection, and a sense of belonging in each other's embrace.

Slow as the breeze blew your hair, everything froze and only he brought the fire to relieve you of your vains. Alhaitham’s lips were soft and cold, clearly waiting for this day to come. When he leaned back for air, foreheads connected together, you breathed, “I love you.”

As you heard the crowd’s applause from a distance, as if cheering for your reconciling, he replied, “I love you more,” before pulling you in for another well-deserved kiss.

—the end.—