My name is remus. I am a trans man and I love fanfiction. I am comfortable reading and rebloging fem!reader because personally, it does not upset me and it’s lot of great fan fiction and I just replaced the pronouns with he/him in my head 🩵
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lesbian // bisexual
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Baran Al-Hashimi/FTM He/Him Reader Doctor - More The Pitt MasterList | Trans AU MasterList |AO3 | My Stories MasterList | Tip Jar💰
Warnings: Bullying / Stealth at Work FTM Reader / Jack Abbot Knows / Penis Jokes / Packer Kink / Packer Licking / FTM bottom growth / Cartoon Boxers / Pitt Fam isn't trying to be mean they're just bored / Previous Reader + Dana / 2.7K Words / Oneshot / Car Romp / 18+
“Can you switch me that day?” You ask Santos, and she fixes you with an interested look over her monitor screen.
You knew better than to ask any work friend a favor while they were charting.
“Does this have anything to do with why you humped and dumped Al-Hashimi?” She tries and you blush.
Word traveled fast in this ER, and lies moved even quicker.
“We never- we haven’t, no!” You stutter hating yourself already.
You sounded guilty. Not able to even blame the testosterone for how your body was responding. The pain in your privates a sort of half boner mixed with uncomfortable gush.
“Damn, you guys didn’t even sleep together?” Javadi adds and you twist to see her interest peaked at the nurses station. Gossip caused even Princess to pause and type slower.
You try not to touch the beard hair on your chin anxiously.
But you were currently a bug under a microscope.
“This is an HR complaint waiting to happen. No, no I’m not sleeping with a senior-“
“Citizen.” Santos giggles and Whittaker pipes up while he ate at the desk.
“Al-Hashimi isn’t that old.”
“Gay boy only said that because hes fucking someone twice as old.” Santos adds so fast you almost forget your own drama.
“You and Robby?” You ask and he doesn’t meet your glance.
Damn you hoped you didn’t look that pathetic.
“It ain’t against the rules to have a sex life kiddo.” Dana walks around you and you are sure you can’t be more embarrassed.
But the blonde’s already gone so you can’t give her any sass in return.
You make tiny fists and try to detangle this mess.
“Dr Al-Hashimi is a great doctor and mentor, it would be inappropriate-“ you say the rehearsed lines.
“Lame.” Santos and Javadi say at the same time and you groan.
“A yes or no is fine, can someone change shifts on Friday or not?”
Mohan and Cassie walk over discussing a patient just in time to chime in with the rest of the doctors;
“Not.” They all say unhelpful.
You let your head thunk onto the wall.
“I’ll remember this when you guys ask me.” You add but turn away before you hear the witty comeback and laughs.
It’s three hours into your shift before you're brought back from the masses coming through the waiting room.
Al-Hashimi has a trauma coming in and you are told by Dana all hands on deck.
So you're on the roof covered and visor on, when you twist to see Baran.
Her lipstick was dark but faded from working a double.
Her curls still bounce over her shoulder, you have about a foot on her.
But she holds herself so confidently that you feel inferior in every way next to her on this rooftop.
“You’ve been avoiding me.” Baran adds and you wish the helicopter would hurt up.
“Not sure if-“ you say too quickly and Baran interjects again.
“Night shift, you put in a request to transfer? What, you think you’re just so adorable I can’t help myself? That I’ll climb you or something?” Baran teases and you actually consider going back down the elevator and checking yourself in.
“I just figured- I mean it could be awkward.” You start up again and Baran scoffs.
“I have been turned down before, and I didn’t do anything outlandish. I think at the age of 40 I’ll be able to hold back. You won’t be corned in a parkinglot or anything.” She jokes again and you hate how charismatic you find the doctor.
“Someone’s turned you down before?” Your voice cracks and Baran actually has the nerve to giggle.
“No, not once I hit puberty. Pretty sure after that boys and girls all fell to my boobs.” Baran adds and you don’t see the lie.
Your eyes fall down to her scrubs and Baran makes a risking noise like ‘gotcha’
“So it’s not the physical connection then.” Baran adds turning back to the helipad.
“What?”
“Well you had me confused at first. I mean you look ready to rub yourself against my leg everytime we are on shift. It’s not the age thing, because I heard you and Dana had a thing four Christmas parties ago.”
Your eyes bulge.
“What?” You blurt out in a screech and Baran just seems tickled.
“Don’t worry, I asked permission first. Never mess with a nurse, but she said it was the best kiss she’d ever had. But she found girls are more her style now.” Baran says and the helicopter starts to whip the air around to make her shout.
Al-Hashimi walks into danger first as you shout after her “MEN AND WOMEN?”
Four hours later you're covered in blood changing out of your scrubs.
You don’t think it’ll take long, you hesitate to walk to the bathroom, figuring you could slip behind a privacy curtain and get the job done.
You’ve dropped your drawers around your ankles when you hear your name being called and Santos yanking the curtain back.
No.
Javadi, McKay, and the new bambi like nurse around her.
You shriek an undignified noise, and the girls all let out a giggle.
McKay stares at the bulge in your cartoon themed boxer briefs. Trying to remember the last time she saw a bulge at all.
While Javadi covers her eyes but then opens them a crack to look down at your tube socks pulled up your calves like some 80s horror movie.
Your hand goes to cover your crotch, imaging even the packer is shy at this. The poor silicone wanting to shrivel in fear.
“GET OUT!” You yell, only for other people to gawk around you.
“Damn, is that you flaccid?" Santos asks and quickly pulls out her phone taking photos.
You yank the curtain and die of mortification.
“Nice undies doctor! What’s your” Santos adds and you wonder if you can go home early from humiliation.
You walk out in the new dark scrubs and try to ignore the whispers and giggles.
You help more patients and by the time night crew comes in your charting ignoring everyone.
Abbot clocks you, eyeing Dana who shakes her head but he confidently strides up to you.
You don’t look at him.
“Hey buddy, I heard you showed off those thick thighs we been workin on.” Jack adds, and you don’t look up. He’d been your gymp buddy everyday for the past year, helping you beef up. Jack said it was great for his mental health, but it felt like he needed a hobby that didn’t involve getting shot.
And you needed someone who believed in you.
“Santos put photos of me in my boxer in the break room like it’s wallpaper.” You add, grumpy as all hell.
Jack bristles, his jaw clenching, he knew - but Santos didn’t.
“That’s fucked-” He’s instantly in your corner and you look at him shaking your face.
But he twists with his backpack and heads for the break room to see sure enough your hairy thighs and bulge.
“He sure likes Garfield, huh?” Ogalvie adds snickering as Baran opens the door to see that yes - the rumors were true.
“What the hell is this?” She shouts circling both Jessie, Ogalvie, and Mohan. Princess is snickering until she sees the look on the senior attendings face.
“He’s a grower and a shower then?” Mohan jokes towards the nurses only to want to swallow her tongue as soon as the room grew cold.
“Who did this?” Al-hashimi’s voice raises and people outside the glass stop to see it.
“Hey! This isn’t funny!” Jack adds opening the door to yell at the floor.
Dana takes off her glasses and you want to be swallowed whole by the desk.
“Someone come forward!” The charge nurse adds but no one moves.
“Take it down, take it down now.” Baran tells icy to the group of people staring.
It’s terrifying and everyone scatters.
You stand up from your spot and walk towards your patient, the ED begins to stir again.
You work two hours over your shift, and the jokes are endless. First they are Garfield related, lasagna and mondays. Then about how those boxers must have meant you ate a lot of pussy.
Then it was basic and dick related.
Meat in the lasagna, sausage in your scrubs and so on and so forth.
The jokes were mostly good natured, and you knew it would die out.
But as you walked by the nurses station you saw the security white board with a drawing of Garfield and a poll for inches.
“Are they, um trying to figure out how bit my dick is?” You twist to ask Perlah who snorts and looks.
“I think it’s up to five hundred, you out of here?” Perlah asked and you turned to her.
“I think so, I’m done charting, just need to check with-” Jack scares you by clamping a hand down on your shoulder.
“Hey, you going home?” He says, not looking through the window at the expo markers.
“I keep hoping this is one of those nightmares and I’ll wake up and it’ll all be over.” You say to him and Jack’s gentle face falls with sadness.
But you push past him, not really feeling like talking much about it anymore.
You clock out and avoid saying goodbye, just heading upstairs to your old jeep. Throwing your bag in the back you clock Baran with her headphones in heading towards you.
She’s not wearing scrubs anymore, her hair is wild and the way the moonlight hits her makes you stare.
Baran must feel your eyes because her eyes meet you and your heart skips a beat.
Her smile is all knowing, kind in ways your soul hasn’t ever witnessed.
You lift your hand up, awkward and unsure you waive.
Baran does you one better, she takes the headphones off and makes her way to your beat up car.
The bumper is gone, and the paint is chipped, and Baran doesn’t pay it a second glance.
You’d assumed she would turn away from things that were different. You’re realizing you assumed a lot about her.
“You okay?’ Baran asks and you realize that no one this shift had taken the time to ask you questions. Once your boxer were the joke of the shift, you’d tried to take it on the chin.
Like just ‘guys being guys’ and you’d shut down so completely that you’d forgotten yourself.
“I’m not big, I mean-my dick isn’t…” You gulp and then look down at your shoes. That wasn’t what you should say to your attending, jesus you were stupid.
“Show me?” Baran asks, it’s so easy that you actually double take.
“What-”
Baran smirks then looks behind her as if to check if anyone could see you two in the dark parking lot.
Placing her fingers against your collarbone she backs you both up to where the car door is still open.
You stumble into your back seat and sort of crawl backwards, Baran climbs into the car with you and you’re sure this is a dream now.
Because she’s pulling your jeans down and seeing those stupid garfield boxers, and then she’s got her fingers on the elastic band and you grab her hand hard.
Baran stops and waits for you, you try to remember that Baran is…Bisexual? Fuck no one prepared you for this shit. How to navigate sexuality and gender.
Baran’s curls fall from her shoulders and she waits.
You drop your hand and hold onto the side of the car behind your head.
“It’s not…I’m not-”
The older woman breaths out softly and you feel like you might shatter if she looks disappointed at you.
But Baran’s fingers are soft for a surgeon, but sure. You should have given her more credit.
The woman was so fucking smart, you have to let go at some point, that was love right?
Baran’s fingers curl under the band, finding how warm your skin was, the top of your pubic hair tickling her knuckles.
“You seem big to me,” Baran tells you and then pushes your cotton shirt up, and leans down to kiss your hairy stomach.
Your lips break open into a smile, no one has kissed your stomach since- god since someone had promised to love you.
Baran’s other hand cupped at the toy in your underwear and you panicked, thinking how she might realize here, now - that it wasn’t real.
That it was too soft, too squishy and- it wasn’t hot and hard, wasn’t real.
Baran didn’t react though, instead she slowly pulled the Garfield boxers down to your knees, letting the toy sit on your pubic mound like it was whipped cream on top.
“Baran-” You gasp, your pussy wet and now in the open air of your car.
The senior attending looked up at you from her dark eyelashes and your mouth went dry.
The last of her lipstick smeared on your stomach as she trailed kisses down, lower, lower.
Oh fuck.
Your hips lifted and Baran’s hot breath made you clench, how could you not?
“You seem pretty big to me baby boy.” She tells you and you moan out, your head thrasing back as you do your best not to hump up.
Baran has her own ideas of what this car romp entails, as the backseat is no place to make love for the first time. But she’s done waiting for you to realize how good you two were together.
The older doctor isn’t waiting, her lips move down your caught off guard at a new kind of wetness.
Your face craning down to see that yes, Baran had spit on your packer. It was dribbling to the sides as she played with the shaft.
Up and down, it wasn’t attached - but your body sure as shit didn’t know that.
You moaned and Barans watched how your mouth fell open and you pant with need.
She’s got your cock in her hand like it’s always been hers.
“Plea-” you pant out and Baran’s other hand reaches down to your thick clit. Testosterone has made it grow, causing pains and erections that made no sense to your psyche or night cycles.
Her fingers wrapped around it just as she did the toy. In unison she pumped you up and down, letting her thumb swirl over the tip.
The tendons in your thighs clench down in pain, your chest rises and falls faster.
“Baran I-” You shiver as your arousal rolls down her fingers and she pinches down harder.
You can’t breathe, your orgasm is so close, and all she’s down is play with your packer and torture your t-dick like it was sa stressball.
“You’re my good boy, aren’t you? Hmm baby? You were wrong, you’re nice and big. And you’re going to behave for me? No more running, you’ll be so good for me. I own this cock don’t I?” Baran tells you, her voice thicker and deeper than before and you’re nodding and whimpering pathetic.
“You’re gonna come home with me big boy? Be mine?” Baran asks you again and you’re practically drooling as her thumb nail teases under your hood and you think you’ve reached a new state of desire.
“Everynight.” You pant back honestly and Baran likes that.
She’s going to teach you so much.
Leaning down Baran licks the underside of your packer and you cry out.
In the parking lot, at the end of the shift, Baran makes you a man in a way no appendage inch could ever. You cum in her mouth and swear that gender euphoria is between Baran’s lips.
divider by: @cafekitsune
word count: 1.1k
synopsis: After a long night on patrol, Bruce returns home to find his wife in the shower.
a/n: This is pure fluff, no smut.
The water was already warm, steam curling lazily against the marble walls as you stood under the shower, letting the heat soak into your muscles. A long sigh left your lips. Finally, quiet. Finally, peace.
Then the bathroom door creaked open.
You didn’t flinch—just smirked. “You better be naked if you’re coming in here.”
There was a soft grunt and the familiar shuffle of armour being stripped away. A utility belt thunked against the counter, followed by the muted rustle of fabric hitting tile.
You heard the shower door open a moment later. Then—
“Oh my god.” You twisted slightly to glance over your shoulder. “You smell like alleyway and sweat.”
Bruce stepped under the spray with a low groan. Water hit his chest, sluicing down over dirt-smudged skin and faint bruises blooming just beneath the surface.
“Active night,” he said gruffly. “You smell like flowers. I hate you a little.”
You laughed, turning fully to face him now, palms braced against his chest. “You’re filthy. I’m filing for divorce.”
He snorted, “Joke’s on you—I already put the mansion in your name. If anyone’s getting left out in the cold, it’s me.”
You grinned, fingers absently tracing the edge of a bruise blooming just under his collarbone. “Good. I’ll sell it and use the money to fund my villain era.”
His brows lifted, amused despite the exhaustion hanging under his eyes. “You? A villain?”
“I’d be great at it,” you said breezily. “Menacing, seductive, morally ambiguous. I’ve got the layers.”
“Please, if anything you’re more like a little thief. You steal my T-shirts,” he deadpanned.
You leaned in, lips brushing the edge of his jaw. “And don’t forget I also stole your heart. Look how far gone you are, Wayne.”
Bruce leaned in, crowding your space with the lazy weight of his body, head dipping low until his nose brushed yours. “Completely gone,” he murmured, voice roughened by the night, but eyes soft and unguarded in a way he reserved only for you. “Hopeless, really.”
Your smirk faltered into something gentler, fingers trailing up to tangle in the damp ends of his hair. “That makes the two of us,” you murmured. “Because it seems I’m hopelessly gone for you too.” You gave him a teasing look. “What other wife accepts that their husband dresses up like a bat and jumps across rooftops all night fighting killer clowns? They’d have to be insane.”
Bruce’s lips curved into a rare, amused smile. “Completely insane,” he agreed, eyes flicking over your face with fond exasperation. “We can share a cell in Arkham together.”
You huff out a soft laugh, resting your forehead against his. “You joke, but at this point I’m convinced we’ve already earned our own padded room.”
Bruce’s fingers traced idle circles at the small of your back. “I call top bunk.”
You snorted. “You would. But I’m warning you now, I’m stealing all the blankets.”
“You already do,” he murmured dryly. “Little thief.”
“So if we’re going by that technicality, that means you fell for a criminal.”
“Explains why I keep coming back,” he said, his voice dropping to a soft murmur as his fingers slipped beneath the curve of your waist. “You’re my favourite kind of danger.”
Your smile faded into something softer, more vulnerable, eyes meeting his in the hazy glow of steam and silence. “And you’re my safest place.”
Bruce didn’t say anything—not with words. He just kissed you. Slow. Deep. Steady.
The spray of the shower beat gently against your back, the scent of soap and heat curling between your bodies as his arms wound around you tighter.
Finally, you pull away, flicking you gaze back up to see his were still closed. “Turn around,” you whispered, nudging him gently.
He blinked open an eye, suspicious. “Why?”
“So I can scrub the grime off you, obviously.”
Bruce arched a brow, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “You just want to feel up my muscles.”
You rolled your eyes. “I’m your wife, that’s my right.” You didn’t even try to deny it. “However, you’re still covered in dirt and god knows what else—and you stink.”
He let out a short snort but obeyed, turning so his back was to you, water trailing down the powerful lines of muscle and scars. You reached for the body wash and squeezed a generous amount into your palm.
Then you began—working in slow, gentle circles, your fingers gliding across his back with practiced care. You didn’t rush. You traced each scar like it was a story only you knew, every old wound and fading bruise a chapter you’d read too many times to count.
Because you had. You knew them all.
Every place Gotham had marked him. Every place he’d broken and healed. Every inch of pain he bore like armor beneath the cowl.
“You’re tense,” you murmured, thumbs pressing lightly into the tight line of his shoulders.
He hummed low in his throat. “You try fighting six guys in a rain-soaked alley.”
“Maybe next time,” you laughed quietly, fingers still digging expertly into the knots along his spine. Each pass of your hands drew out another groan, low and guttural, like the tension was finally bleeding out of him. You felt the weight leave his shoulders piece by piece.
“That’s it,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges. “I’m firing Alfred. You’re in charge of post-patrol recovery now.”
“You couldn’t afford me,” you teased.
“Try me.”
When you finished with his back, your hands slid downward, soft now, reverent, tracing the path you’d just soothed. For a beat, you just stood there—your palms resting flat against his skin, the thrum of his pulse steady beneath your fingertips.
Then, you reached for the shampoo.
You stretched up onto your tiptoes, trying to reach the top of his head, grumbling to yourself as your fingers barely skimmed his damp hair. “Why are you built like a damn skyscraper?”
Bruce let out an amused breath. “You need a stool?”
“Shut up,” you muttered, finally managing to get your hands into his inky locks.
Any teasing vanished the moment your fingers began working gently across his scalp. His eyes fluttered shut, lashes damp, unable to help the low, content exhale that slipped from his throat. He melted under your touch—shoulders loose, body quiet, breath slow.
You finished rinsing the suds from his hair with quiet care, the water rushing gently between you as your fingers combed through the last of the soap. When you were done, you let your arms wrap loosely around his waist, cheek pressing between his shoulder blades.
Then he turned, his hands finding your hips as he gently caged you between his body and the slick tile wall. He leaned down to kiss you again, lips finding yours with the kind of aching familiarity that had your heart skipping a beat.
Summary: Things heat up when Peter suggests adding role-play to your bedroom activities.
Genre: SMUT (nsfm)
Warnings: unprotected sex, kinky, cheating role-play, rough, dirty talk, home invasion role-play, dark!spiderman, mean!spiderman, p in v, fingering, dom and sub undertones, consensual dubious consent, degradation, a lot of kissing, reader get's overwhelmed in the end, thorough aftercare
~ idk if anyone will, but if someone somehow recognizes this from my deleted marvel blog from a few years ago, welcome back 💕 ~
The moment you walk into his dorm to work on the mutual Chemistry assignment you had, Peter Parker wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you into a kiss. You instantly swing your arms around him, stumbling into him as you ask into his lips, "Wait, Pete, what about Harry?"
"Hush, don't say his name," Peter mutters into your mouth as he gently pushes you onto his mattress, letting you lay down, and then climbs over you to kiss your exposed shoulder. You can't hide your smile as you wrap your legs around his hips, hands tugging at his hair.
Harry made Peter jealous. It was always an unwarranted jealousy considering you had never shown any interest in Harry. Ever. But you wouldn't lie, Peter's jealousy made your lower stomach tighten marvelously.
"I missed you," he moans and leans in to kiss you again, pulling on your lip this time until he drops it and kisses you again, this time with hunger you have never seen from him.
"You saw me this morning!" You laugh.
"Your point?" Peter asks seriously, disconnecting your lips and staring at you like you just said the most scandalous thing, "I missed you, okay? I missed your nose, your hair, these beautiful lips. I missed seeing you like this: hair mused and skin exposed. Can't I miss my lovely girlfriend?"
You beam at him. "If you missed me so much, kiss me again."
Peter obliges without complaint. He kisses, and kisses, and kisses, you until your lips begin to swell. You moan, arching your back.
As much as you love his kisses, you had missed him too and you didn't understand why he wasn't making any moves to, well, have sex.
"Please, do something, I want you," you whisper, giggling as his hair skim your cheek and goosebumps scatter across your skin when his lips intentionally leave his mark.
"I want to fuck you but," he pauses and then abruptly his lips disappear from your skin. You look at him curiously as he sits up. When he hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you lower onto the mattress so he's really towering over you, you squeal happily.
"I want to fuck you as Spiderman," he finishes, looking at you with darkened pupils. You choke on air at this confession and quickly lean up onto your elbows, your hair spilling across your shoulders.
"What?"
"You heard me," Peter grins, stroking your exposed thigh with his thumb. He then begins to bunch up your skirt and your eyes flutter shut. "Kinda like role playing? Imagine you don't know I'm me? If that makes sense? It would be so fucking hot, baby." He groans, leaning down to kiss your lips again as he rubs his palm over your panties.
You can't deny that that sounds super hot as heat pools in your core and you bite your lip, "W-would that mean I would be cheating on—you?"
Peter laughs, hand moving a little quicker and you buck your hips, seeking the pleasure he's creating, "Yeah, I guess so," he shrugs but then he grips your thigh with his other hand and whispers hotly against your ear, "But I'll forgive you, if you want it."
He looks down at the dampness of your panties with amusement, "You're dripping, princess. You want my fingers, don't you?"
You whimper as a response, cheeks warm as you look at your boyfriend. He looks beautiful from this angle. His hair toppling over his forehead and he's wearing that lopsided smirk you love so much, "Words love, use your words," Peter chastises, pulling at your panties and letting them snap back onto your clit.
"Yes! I want your fingers," You say breathlessly.
"What about Spiderman, do you want his fingers too?" Peter taunts as he pushes your panties aside and dips his index into your pussy.
You arch your back again, moaning and automatically nodding your head with enthusiasm. You shut your eyes once more and groan when Peter adds another finger, pumping them in and out. You can't see him but you're sure his hazelnut eyes are burning into your skin as he watches you squirm beneath him.
"Good girl," he praises as he presses his thumb on your clit, rubbing a little and causing you to whine out as your legs shake. "You want to come all over my hand, huh? Is that what you want?"
You nod, "Please," you plead and suddenly, his fingers curl up. In surprise, you jerk up and attempt to close your legs as the pleasure becomes too much.
"Oh!" Your moan is smothered by his kiss. One hand pushes on your thigh, preventing your legs from closing as you come.
When Peter removes his hand, your smiling up at him and he smiles back, bringing his fingers to your lips.
You let them slide into your mouth and you begin to suck on them, tasting your juices. "You should leave your window open tonight, Spiderman might visit if you're lucky."
Peter's smile is devilish.
Your own sleepy smile widens, "I'll wait up then."
* * *
It's almost midnight as you lay in your twin-sized bed, listening intensely to the sound of the wind and to any movement happening near your window. Your roommate was visiting family meaning it was only you and the darkness.
You turn onto your side, playing with the silk pajama shirt you had on as you chew on your lip. It was exhilarating, knowing that when Spiderman comes in, you would pretend to have no clue he's Peter.
Your mind began to wander, imagining Peter's—Spiderman's—lips on yours and the way his spandex covered hands would tighten on your hips as he drives his dick into you.
You stifle a moan.
Suddenly, you're pulled from your thoughts as the window opens wider and instantly you shoot up in bed, cheeks burning and core already throbbing as you stare at Peter—no, Spiderman.
He's at your window, perched on the sill, and he tilts his head, simply continuing to stare in silence. You pull your legs closer to your chest, "Hi," you croak out, not sure how Peter wants this to happen. When he doesn't answer, you lean more into the fantasy, "Spiderman? W-what are you doing here?"
He jumps down and stands, walks closer. "I'm here for you," he says out you're instantly reassured by hearing Peter behind the mask. You blink at him when he raises his arm and in a blur, you're thrown against the headboard as your hands are restrained at either side of your head.
Webs, he's holding you in place with his webs.
You can't talk when Spiderman approaches you. You want him to kiss you but because he's wearing his mask, you don't think that's an option.
Only you're proven wrong because as Spiderman crawls over you, basically straddling your hips, he pulls up his mask a little over his nose and captures your lips in his. His hands cup your cheeks and you lean into his touch.
"Mmm you're an obedient little thing, aren't you?" Spiderman whispers roughly, smiling into your mouth. You can't help but smile too because deep down, this is all just a little bit funny. All this pretending as if you didn't know that under the mask it's Peter.
Your Peter.
"I have a boyfriend."
Still, it certainly is fun to pretend.
"And you've made no attempts to push me away," Spiderman chuckles, sliding his finger down your cheek until he slips his thumb into your mouth. In the dim moonlight, he looks even more alluring and in some way, almost ominous. You like it.
"Some shitty boyfriend you must have."
When he removes his thumb, you almost laugh but he kisses you instead. You want to tease him and tell him that you have the most amazing boyfriend but you can't because he's talking again.
"Did you wear this for him?" He pulls on the collar of the shirt you're wearing and quickly you look down and then up at him again, nodding innocently. "I think he would have loved it. I know I do." You smile as he leans down and begins to kiss and suck across your neck and collarbone.
"Pe—Spiderman!" You exclaim when he unbuttons the shirt and slips one hand inside to knead your breast. You squirm up, pulling the webs holding you in place as he lifts your shirt to take your nipple in his mouth.
His other hand travels lower and lower, pushing the blankets aside. You hold your breath. When you feel his hand halt over your middle and see him look up at you, mouth ajar, you smile.
"Oh, so you're also a slut?" Spiderman taunts, palm resting nonchalantly on your bare pussy now. Your cheeks burn and you shake your head. Spiderman only nods, "Oh but you are! Such a dirty slut. Mmm, I wonder if you're as wet as I think you are."
You groan and clench your hands when he runs one finger over your slit and you feel embarrassment creep up your cheeks when he laughs. "Wow, you're wetter," he chuckles and lightly slaps your pussy, "Slut." He grins and you bite your lip.
Your mind is become hazy. "Kiss me," you whisper.
Hearing those words, he slips his finger into you and you buck your hips, "What was that?" Spiderman taunts again.
"Kiss me!"
"What about your boyfriend?" It's a game and Peter's enjoying it way too much. He grins as you suppress your moan and he begins to fully finger-fuck you under the bunched up blanket.
"I don't care, just kiss me!" You whine pathetically. He moves faster and harder now and you can feel your stomach tighten. You're so worked up, you're not going to last much longer.
"I'm going to—" you whimper but he interrupts you with a kiss again, also pulling his hand away. He doesn't give you time to protest when the minute he disconnects your lips, his hand covers your mouth.
"You come when I say you come. Now listen closely, I'm going to unbind your hands and turn you around. Then, you're going to show me that pretty ass of yours and let me do whatever I want with you, okay?"
You quickly nod, eyes blown wide with lust as his roughness turns you on. You want him to manhandle you this time, "And do you know why?"
You shake your head.
"Because that's how you treat cheating sluts."
You can't help but smile behind his hand, that word sending pleasurable shockwaves into your pussy and you nod even quicker than the previous time. You feel dirty but, somehow, you like it. It's the good kind of dirty, the safe kind. You know you're always safe when he's around.
When Spiderman removes his hand, you stare up at him with that purposefully innocent look in your eyes and say, "Fuck me."
"God," he mutters quietly, "So impatient." Spiderman cautiously pulls on the webbing from around your wrist so as to not hurt you, but the minute your hands are free he lifts you up and turns you around.
You squeal when your head hits the pillow, your hair toppling over your eyes. Spiderman is pulling your hands behind your back and binding them with webs again so you can't prop yourself up and you hear him laugh.
"Honey, let me," he says condescendingly as his arm slides under your waist and roughly pulls you up so you're resting on your knees, ass in the air. You moan when he slaps your ass, his hands kneading the skin.
"You're such a pretty girl," he compliments and you have to bury your head in the pillow to suppress your needy sounds when you feel his hot breath on your pussy. You squirm when he licks a strip up your core, hands pushing open your thighs, and begins to suck gently on your clit.
He has never had to opportunity to do this to you before , no one has, and it feels like you're about to burst. You moan and squirm around as he only works quicker, smiling into your pussy and kissing it, "You like it when I do this?"
"Uh huh," you nod, voice hoarse. He licks you again and again until you're seeing stars and begging to come.
"You're wetting my mask with your juices, dirty girl," Spiderman taunts, leaning up onto his knees and you hear him start to shift around and take the suit off.
"I'm sorry, please, I'm so sorry. I need you! I need you so badly."
"Who do you need, slut?" He whispers roughly as he lines up his dick with your slit. He's whispering dirty things in your ear as he teases you and you're crying now, tears wetting the pillow under you. When his hand bunches up your hair to pull your head back, you can't hold it in and you come on his dick.
"Did you just come?" Spiderman asks a little surprised. However his hold doesn't loosen on your hair, it hardens and he pulls your head back harder, "I said, did you come, slut?"
You nod, biting your lip as your breaths steady, "What are you going to do about it, tiger?" You tease, your voice airy, smirking through hazy eyes.
You swallow your own words when you feel him press into you in one quick thrust, "Shut up." He demands when you groan. "Damn, I'm going to enjoy this," he growls, pushing your head down as he thrusts into you harder and harder.
"Who do you need?" He hisses, punctuating his words with a hard thrust.
"You!" You moan without thinking, stomach tightening again as you cry out in pleasure.
"Say my name! Who's slut are you?"
"Spiderman's slut," you pant, eyes wet.
"Damn right, you're mine now. Mine. I might have to take you all night and every night from now on you feel so amazing. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He's rambling, fucking you harder than he has ever done and it's like you're floating. You can only nod meekly as you make needy sounds to match his thrusts.
"I know you would."
His hand tightens around your hair again, fucking you with passion. It's animalistic and rough and you've never experienced pleasure like this. You're kind of ashamed of how much you're liking it.
"It's always the innocent ones that are so cock hungry."
You groan.
"Spiderman, I'm going to come again!" You warn and his thrusts slow a little, making m you moan in frustration.
"You come when I come," he explains and begins to suck across your neck and jaw, "Now, be a good girl and fuck me back a little, I'm doing all the work."
You move your hips to his thrusts, opening your mouth wider as you continue making those desperate sounds he loves so much.
"Good girl," Spiderman praises and kisses your neck again, his hand slowly going to rub your clit. When he begins to play with the sensitive skin your moans become louder.
"Ah- Y-You're going to make me come again."
"Good because I'm coming too." And sure enough, he's spilling into you as his grip tightens on your hair. Feeling him come makes you come, and you mumble his name.
His real name; Peter's name.
Suddenly it all becomes a little too much in your post orgasm haze and you begin to shake, "I'm sorry. I-I," You're not sure you want to end the scene but this is the first time you've come this hard and you can't seem to breathe normally as you feel weaker than ever.
"Peter. I need Peter. Please," you croak out, continuing to cry from the pleasure and an unknown feeling in your chest.
Spiderman drops his hold on your hair gently, quickly shifting and pulling out. He uses his strength to break your bonds and turns you around. When you look up, it's not exactly Spiderman anymore but Peter, his mask already discarded on the ground.
"Hey, hey, what's wrong? What happened? It's me, it's only me, did I hurt you?"
He cups your cheeks and uses his thumb to wipe your tears as he examines your expression with concern. You sit up to hug him, "Peter." You mumble his name like a chant and bury your hands in his hair.
"You're okay, shh, it's okay. Was this too much?"
You shake your head, "No, no. I just, it's dark and I've never come like this and I couldn't see you and it all suddenly scared me. I'm sorry I ruined the moment, I just wanted you!"
You hug him tighter, skin on skin as your breathing calms. Peter wraps his arms around you too, pulling your disheveled shirt down your stomach again as he kisses your shoulder.
"I'm here," he promises.
Once you've regained your bearings, you pull away and smile at your boyfriend. You're both half-naked and covered in sweat. Peter's suit is opened down his chest and you have his come inside you and on your inner thighs.
"How was it?" he asks nervously.
You reach for his hand.
"It was amazing. Simply amazing. I don't think I have ever come so hard in my life." You squeeze his hand when you speak again, "But, Petey, you know you're enough for me, right? Because you being Spiderman is amazing and all but I love Peter. No one can fuck me like Peter can and this," You point between you and him, "Only proved that."
He lights up at you comment, grinning as he pulls you in to kiss him again, "Good," He mumbles, "because no one but me can fuck you."
"Oh," you grin, nuzzling your nose against his, "Only you and Spiderman?"
He looks up at you, cheeks blushed a dark pink, "Yeah, only me and Spiderman."
Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.
Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader
Warnings: angst, language, shitty boyfriend, the reader doesn’t take shit from no one, sexy mobsters, slow burn (kinda), implied character's death
A/N: This is a shorter, interlude chapter. I wanted to go straight for the smut but decided against it because…I’m a tease :)
Indecent Proposal (3)
Indecent Proposal masterlist
“What’s this?” Steve holds up your scrapbook. “That’s pretty. It looks like you put a lot of effort into this book.”
“It’s a scrapbook,” you sigh, and grab the book. “Forget it. Whatever I dreamed of back then will never come true. Maybe I should burn it.”
“What do you mean, doll?” Bucky worriedly places his hand on your shoulder. “What did you dream of? And why do you think this will never come true?”
You sigh again. “Mr. Barnes, with all due respect, look at the mess my life is right now. My boyfriend sold me to you. And whatever you want from me is far from love. All you want is my womb.”
Steve frowns deeply. They didn’t think so far. All they had in mind was to make you theirs and fill you up. “Doll…we…” Steve shakes his head. “Buck?”
You wave them off. “No biggie. Life fucks you over most of the time. It could be worse, right? Scott could’ve cheated on me with his ex and sold me to his bosses.” You chuckle darkly. “Oh-wait. He just did that.”
“Y/N, we are not so bad,” Bucky grins at you. “We promise to never cheat on you. You are the missing piece Stevie, and I were looking for all our lives.”
You sneer. “Let’s try to be painfully honest. You want to stuff me with dick and knock me up. There is no way out for me. How could I escape you and your husband?”
You walk toward your bedroom, ignoring their boring looks. If they force you to accept your fate, you won’t roll over and just take it.
“You stole her scrapbook?” Bucky grins as his husband thumbs through your scrapbook. “You are a dangerous man, Mr. Rogers.”
“She wanted me to throw it away,” Steve huffs. “I took it with me to find out more about Y/N than her blood type and what she does for a living. If we want this to work out, we should…”
“Buy her flowers,” Bucky suggests. “And invite her to live with us.”
“Slow down, Buck. We should ask her on a date first. But flowers are not the worst gift for a first date.”
“How about we murder her enemies too,” the brunette grins darkly. “I know she doesn’t want us to kill Scottie boy, but I’d love to do more to him than break a few bones.”
“You know…” Steve dips his head and smirks darkly. “We could just let him disappear because he fucked with us. He lied and broke our deal by not telling Y/N about the deal.”
“I love how you think,” Bucky cups Steve’s face, looking him deep in the eyes, “and I love you, baby. You know that, right? Y/N is going to be an addition, but she’ll never take your place.”
“Buck, if I’d believe for one second you want to replace me you would end up bending over the table, your ass spanked raw,” Steve chuckles at his husband’s expression. “Oh, you’d love that, huh?”
“We will see, Stevie…we will see…”
“Far well, Scottie boy.” Bucky locks his gun and tugs it away. “This was much too fast and painless for that bastard. I should’ve broken a few bones or cut him open.”
“A shot straight through the heart. Good job.” Steve leans over Scott’s lifeless body. “Y/N can never know we killed him after she asked us to not do it.”
“We did it for us, not her. Y/N’s hands are clean. She had nothing to do with this, Steve. But I agree. She should never get to know about what happened tonight.”
“She wanted a dress like that for her wedding? Nice. Very nice.” Steve is obsessed with your scrapbook. He read every line and looked at every picture. Steve even ran his fingers over the fabric samples.
“Stevie, what are you doing with the scrapbook? Do you want to find the perfect wedding dress for her or more?”
“I want to get to know her better. Y/N put a lot of effort into creating this book. We should take our time and find out what she wants and likes.”
“Hmm…that’s not the worst idea, Steve. Give me that.” Bucky snatches the book out of Steve’s hands. “Let’s see what we can do for our doll…”
The warm breeze washed over him as he stepped off the jet, today bucky would have to face the woman he loved and broke. As the two super soldiers walked into their hotel room both men dreading the next two days.
One floor up a man head over heels sneaked down to his soon to be wife's hotel room. He quickly swiped his key card to her room, he headed to the bathroom to be met with his beautiful girl naked soaking in the tub.
Her hair wet as she gently played and divided around the bubbles. She had a warm smile on her face so ready to marry the man who she would never hurt her. "My baby, I've missed you" he spoke slowly walked to her, she jumped at his sudden appearance. "Charlie!!!! I cant believe you! You know it's bad luck to see me before wedding." The minder reader shrugged acting innocent.
"Love, you know I cant sleep without you. Come on pretty baby make love with me?" He was now sat on the side of the tub. "Charles we cant!" She said bashfully to him. "Y/n dont you want to have one last night of mind blowing sex! You know one last night before I have you forever?" Gosh she couldn't deny the man and she must likely never will.
"Alright take me to bed." She said looking up at him but the boyish grin on his face me her second guess her choice. "Oh no love I think in going to join you in the water."
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Steve and bucky were laying on their hotel bed listening to the people above them have the most passionate sex ever. And with their super soldier hearing it was like listening to an audio porn. But steve couldn't shake the feeling that the moans of the woman above sounded so familiar to him. His body reacting in way y/n could only ever get him aroused, his hard cock begging for attention from the mysterious girl upstairs. He tried to ignore her screams of pleasure, the woman sounded just like y/n, he thought to himself. Then he heard "oh yeah baby come on my dick" the man spoke from above the woman moaning from his words.
"Yeah I gonna cum in this tiny little pussy and make you a mommy. Yeah you want that huh? You wanna have my baby honey, my little wife wants me to fuck my cum into her. Yeah you like that y/n?" The man growled out.
Steve shot put bed, the woman who sounded so much like y/n was y/n! No wonder his body was reacting that way it was her. And her soon to be husband. He remembered, buckys eyes went wide him sitting up once her heard it.
"Oh god it's her!" Steve said the pain catching up to him. She had moved on, left him, was happy with this new man, wanted kids. They've only been together a year and a half he's marrying her yet. it took steve 3 years just to pop the question! Bucky wrapped steve in his arms while steve sobbed.
She wasn't his anymore, and never would be ever again.
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The wedding was beautiful wanda and clint gushed at how cute it was. Natasha giving bucky and steve a glare the whole time, while tony got drunk enough to make thors mead look like nothing and dancing with sunglasses on to the song 'kiss me'. And that's what the super soldiers did as they watched you dance with your new husband -they got drunk.
The x-men watched carefully at the two, bucky slowly made his way to the restroom while the party still jumped with action. Just as he finished y/n came into the hallway bucky stopped in his tracks. "Bucky?" She said as she walked -no more like ran to him her white dress flowing behind her, her hair doing the same. She looked so happy to see him, he opened his arms a small smile on his face with watery eyes. She ran into his embrace hugging him for dear life.
"Y/n honey, I'm so sorry. I know what steve I did was horrible but we do love you. I know that doesn't make it better but please please I just had to tell you. I know i nor steve will never have you the way we want a-and that's okay. I hope you have a great life love. I'm so-so sorry" his words came out in sobs as he held her face in his hands. Her eyes filled with love that he hadn't seen in such a long time. "I forgive you bucky, I will always love you and steve." She held her hands atop his.
Then her skin turned blue, then her eyes yellow. Bucky backed away from her "y/n! What's wrong!" He said as her dress turned into one of the bridesmaids.
"I'm not y/n" raven laughed at him. Bucky came running back into the ballroom his eyes searching for her. There she was smiling at her husband as he rubbed cake on her nose.
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I know so short but I wanted to split it In two versions. One of how bucky had his night go and how steve faced the night of the readers wedding. Part one part two
The wedding was over and Steve's head was filled with image of you.
Steve sat at the wedding waiting for his lover to come back from the bathroom when his eyes were filled with thoughts,wants, and dreams that stung so bad like salt in a wound. Those dreams he refused to accept, the dreams that hurt to think about. The dreams that show him his deepest desire and the life he almost touched but never fully sat in his hand.
The warm sunlight casted in through the window, her bare shoulders peeking through the covers told him of the love filled night they had. It was everything they wanted, the talks of if they ever got married or bought a what it would look like, he now laid in with her right next to him. The White House with blue shutters, the big front porch and terrace up above.
The door swung open to reveal a blonde little boy who couldn't be older then 5 ran in screaming 'good morning daddy' a smile broke out on steve as bucky walked in "we made breakfast! Dad and me made mommy a pink heart out of staw buries." The little boy struggled with the last word with a toothy smile.
"Come here laurie! Thank you, are you mommys little guy huh?" You sat up opening your arms to him. "No I'm big like my daddy's" he pouted. Bucky and steve laughed and the giggles of his wife and son made Steve's heart hurt a stab of pain telling it wasn't real and never would be.
Jean and Eric laughing to eachother was what made him shiver. Jean had messed with his mind showing what he lost.
2 years later....
Steve and bucky got married 8 months after you. But the guilt never went away, Natasha or someone else would once in a while bring you up saying something along the lines of: "oh she got a promotion, I talked to her yesterday", " y/n's pregnant can you believe it!", "its a boy her and i talked this morning on the phone shes thinking of the name Laurence, laurie for short", "y/n and charles have the most beautiful house with blue shutters, I went there for her baby shower!", or "she had her baby! I'm on my way to go meet him! Come one tony hury and put your shoes on!" "I'm trying!" He shouted back.
47 years later....
Bucky and steve stood at a headstone.
Here lies y/n Xavier mother, wife, loved one may you rest in peace ♡
Both men had lost one of their loves. So many years and here she would stay till the end of the line. In the ground. A peaceful death with her husband both died together in their bed holding hands.
A/n: short i know but i realized that not all people would move on so I'm making an alternative version. Also the notebook Easter eggs I put in just to make it more sad 😈
Summary: Unwanted. Rejected. But desired, nonetheless.
Pairing: Alpha!Steve Rogers x Alpha!Bucky Barnes, Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Bucky Barnes
Warnings: angst, past unrequited feelings, established mm relationship, a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, possessive Steve, scenting
Catch up here: Unwanted mate & Unwanted mate (2)
Trope: Triad
Flufftober vs Kinktober 2025
“A triad? "Have you completely lost your mind?" George Barnes rarely loses control. He’s not very emotional, nor does he yell at people for no reason.
Today, though, he’s about to rip his son and lover apart. “You cannot share her! Y/N is your omega. Do you have the slightest idea what the organization will do if they find out what the degenerated monsters did to Y/N?”
“They can’t do shit,” Bucky bites back. “I did my homework. They cannot take her away from me unless I abandon her or refuse to mate her.” The alpha proudly puffs his chest. “I mated her more than once. She’s filled with my heir. Law says, "I can have lovers, but I must treat my Omega with respect and love."
“We,” Steve clears his throat. “We will treat her with respect and love, sir. I know Bucky did not act like a trustworthy alpha. I’ll take half of the blame for distracting him. I’ll do better from now on.”
“Son, she is not a doll you can share. Y/N is a living, breathing woman with feelings. She’s vulnerable and hurt because of the two of you. I won’t sit and wait for you to become better alphas!”
“Father, with all due respect, this is my omega and wife. I will not let anyone lay hands on her.” Bucky raises his voice, no growling and snarling at his father. “We are looking for a home for all of us.”
“So, you want to drag her somewhere and lock her in a basement until you need her for your rut!” George barks at his son, eyes glowing orbs now. “I will not allow you to ruin this omega!”
“Basement?” Steve stares at George in disbelief. “Sir, we would never do such a thing to her. Y/N is…” His eyes become glassy the moment you walk toward the alphas. “Y/N…”
Bucky huffs when his lover immediately rushes toward you. Steve looks you all over, checking on the hidden second claiming mark he left on your neck. “How are you? Do you need anything? Does the mark still hurt?”
“Steve!” Bucky grunts. “Let her breathe for once.” Your alpha joins you and Steve. He carefully checks the mark he left on your neck. “It’s healing, Y/N. Do you want me to clean the wound again?”
You narrow your eyes at Bucky before slapping his hand away. “Don’t,” you hiss, “you think for one second that I’ll forget what you did to me.”
George grins. He can see the fire in your eyes as you ball your hands into fists.
“Omega?” Steve whines, hearing a low growl leave your lips. “We are sorry. Bucky and I will do better from now on. Do you want to come with us and search for a home? We want you to choose your new home.”
Cocking your head, you look at George for confirmation, a jab in Bucky’s direction. Your alpha growls, wanting to draw attention toward him and away from his father.
“What is it, son? Do you not like it when your omega asks another alpha for confirmation? Maybe you should’ve thought about leaving her alone after using your alpha command twice in the future.”
“I want a garden and floor-to-ceiling windows to see the city lights and stars.” You confidentially say. “Flowers—I want them in the garden to grow vegetables and fruits.”
If the alphas want to share their life, you will not let them walk all over you ever again. Your omega is still whimpering in distress because of what George had to do to save you. He only tried to help you, but the alpha broke something that will take a long time to heal.
“A garden would be nice, that’s true,” Steve beams at you. “Do you like vegetables more than fruits? What about tomatoes? Do you like them?”
“Ahem…can we go back to buying a house and not talk about becoming farmers?” Bucky grumbles. He hates that you seek confirmation from his father and talk about nonsense with his lover. “We all love tomatoes, but we should find a house before growing them.”
“We are not done here.” George tries to stop his son and Steve from bringing you out of the mansion. If you are within his reach, he can protect you. “Son.”
“Father, I love and respect you, but,” Bucky bares his teeth, his orbs glowing now, “do not interfere with my bond with my mates. I know we made a lot of mistakes, but I will try to make things up to Y/N for the rest of my life.”
“I want your jacket,” you whine, and tug at Steve’s jacket. Bucky played games with you, making you jealous of Steve’s scent on his clothes. Now it’s your turn to rile him up.
Steve strips his jacket off, handing it to you. He watches you put it on, a smile on his face. Bucky is not happy. Not at all. He grunts but doesn’t say a word. In his opinion, Bucky deserves much worse than his lover’s scent covering your body.
“House number five,” Bucky is less enthusiastic than when you looked around the first house. “What do you hate about it this time?” He sighs deeply. Your alpha had hoped to make you at least a little happy with a new house.
While both alphas slowly despair, fearing you don’t want to find a house because you never intended to move in with them.
“I like the windows in the bedroom and the size of the bedroom. It’d be big enough for all of us. We’ll need a big bed…like huge.” You cocked your head to look at Steve. “What sizes of beds exist?”
“Uh—I don’t really know. Queen-size and king-size are a thing, I think,” Steve shrugs. He moves closer to sniff at Bucky’s neck, licking his lips. He can already see the three of you ruin every room in this house.
“We will order a custom-made one,” Bucky possessively wraps his arm around your waistline. “I want to have my way with both of you on it and make you cream the sheets.”
You shudder at the memories of your night together with the alphas. “You will have to make up a lot to me before I’ll share a bed with you again.”
“I take the couch too,” he winces at his words. “Sorry, that was stupid.” Bucky shakes his head. It seems he cannot do anything right when it comes to you. “Sorry…”
“The garden is nice too, and I like the walk-in wardrobe.” You glance out of the window. “What do you think about the bathroom?”
“We need to replace the bathtub. I want a bigger one,” Bucky murmurs in your ear. “I want to scrub your back in it while Steve massages your feet.”
“Hmm…” you nod thoughtfully. “I will consider moving into this house with you under one condition.”
“Which one?” The alphas ask in unison.
“You will have to make up for every single time you hurt me…”
just imagine trying to kiss Arthur but being too short to reach his lips, so you either gotta grab him by the face and angle him down to meet your lips or, his favorite, lifting you so you’re face-level with him.
he’ll pick you up and either set you on the counter next to him or just keep you held up against his broad chest, hands under your ass so your legs dangle on either side of his hips. your bodies pressed as close as possible before you attack (he knows whats coming).
kissing Arthur’s face all over. forehead, nose, cheeks, lips, even his chin when you miss his lips. each one with a little ‘mwah’ and a smile as your teeth nearly graze his cheek between each smooch. and he’s loving it. eyes half-closed, thumbs rubbing your hip where it meets your waist, just basking in the moment. he wishes it could last forever and when you stop, he always gives you a little kiss.
and that’s why he’s constantly calling you his sweet boy, sweetheart, darling. and doing literally anything he can to prove how much he appreciates and adores you. because he never expected to have this and still doesn't believe he truly deserves your love. so he still works for it
tags: kind of inspired by crush by ethel cain, reader is down bad, teasing, grinding, dry humping, kissing, making out, reader trying hard to impress dean, dom dean, reader thinks dean is straight (he's WRONG!!!) afab terms (cunt, pussy, clit, etc) for reader's genitalia.
autor's note: i want that sooo fucking bad...
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NSFW UNDER THE CUT
You’d been hunting with Sam and Dean Winchester for just over a year, and you still couldn’t believe they let you stick around.
You weren’t the strongest fighter. You weren’t the smartest researcher. But you were stubborn, loyal, and you tried — God, you tried so hard — especially when Dean was watching. Every salt round you loaded, every vampire you decapitated, every time you took a hit so Sam didn’t have to, you did it with Dean’s approval humming in the back of your mind like a prayer.
The problem was Dean Winchester.
He was everything. Cocky, brave, sarcastic, unfairly hot. And he was straight. Obviously. You’d seen him flirt with waitresses, bartenders, and the occasional hunter. Never guys. Never you. So you kept your hopeless crush locked down tight. You blushed, you stuttered, you got shy and wide-eyed whenever he praised you on a hunt, but you told yourself it didn’t mean anything.
Dean, of course, made it his personal mission to torment you.
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It started small.
After a simple hunt in Nebraska, Dean had clapped you on the back while you were still catching your breath. “Not bad, kid. You handled that pretty good.”
You’d flushed bright red, ears burning, and mumbled something incoherent while staring at your boots. Dean’s smirk had been immediate.
“Look at that. One little compliment and you’re turning into a tomato. Cute.”
From then on, it only got worse.
He’d brush past you in the bunker hallway, hand lingering on your lower back. “Careful there, sweetheart. Don’t wanna bruise that pretty face.” He’d lean over your shoulder while you researched, breath warm against your ear. “You smell good today. New shampoo?”
Every time, you’d go wide-eyed and flushed, heart hammering, convinced he was just being Dean — an asshole who liked watching you squirm. Sam had pulled him aside more than once.
“Dean, you gotta stop. You’re giving him hope. It’s not funny.”
Dean would just grin. “What? I’m just messing with him. He’s adorable when he gets all shy. Like a baby deer.”
“You're not serious, you're just getting his hopes up.” Sam sighed.
“Who says I'm not serious?”
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The latest hunt was supposed to be easy: a pack of werewolves in a rural town. You’d thrown yourself into it, taking point more than usual, trying to impress Dean. You’d tackled one of the wolves off him during the fight, earning a nasty bite on your arm for your trouble. But when Dean had looked at you afterward — blood on his face, eyes wide with something like worry — you’d felt ten feet tall.
Back at the dingy motel, you were patching yourself up in the bathroom when Dean walked in without knocking.
“Need help with that?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe.
You startled, nearly dropping the gauze. “I— I got it. Thanks.”
Dean stepped closer anyway, crowding you against the sink. He took the bandage from your shaking hands and wrapped your arm with surprising gentleness. His fingers brushed your skin more than necessary.
“You did good tonight.” He murmured, voice low. “Real good. My brave boy.”
Your face went scarlet. You stared at his chest, heart pounding. “Don’t…don’t call me that.”
“Why not?” Dean tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his eyes. That teasing smirk was back. “You like it. Look at you — all flushed and shy. Makes me wanna kiss that pretty mouth just to see what sound you make.”
Your breath hitched. For a second, you let yourself believe him. Then reality crashed back in. He was joking. He always was.
You pulled away, ears burning. “Stop teasing me, Dean.”
Dean’s smirk faltered for half a second. Then it returned, sharper. “Who says I’m teasing?”
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The next night, everything changed.
The werewolves had been smarter than expected. One had ambushed you while you were checking the perimeter. You’d fought hard, but it had pinned you down, claws at your throat. Dean had appeared like a storm — shotgun blasting, fury in his eyes. He’d killed it, then hauled you up by your jacket.
“You okay?” He asked, hands checking you for injuries.
You nodded, breathless and bleeding from a few scratches. “Yeah. Thanks for—”
Dean didn’t let you finish.
He shoved you back against a tree and kissed you.
It wasn’t gentle. It was hungry, messy, desperate. His mouth crashed into yours, tongue pushing past your lips like he’d been waiting years for this. You made a shocked, eager sound and kissed him back clumsily — too inexperienced, too overwhelmed, but so fucking eager now that you knew he wasn’t joking.
Dean groaned into your mouth. “Fuck, finally.” He muttered against your lips. “Been dying to do this for months.”
You whimpered, hands fisting in his flannel. “Dean— I thought...You’re straight—”
He laughed darkly and kissed you harder, tongue sliding against yours in filthy strokes. “Yeah? Tell that to my dick every time you blush for me.”
He pressed closer, one thigh shoving between your legs. You gasped as he started grinding against you — slow, deliberate rolls of his hips that dragged his hard cock against your clothed cunt. Even through layers, it felt incredible. You whined into his mouth, shy and sloppy and desperate.
Dean’s hands roamed — groping your ass, squeezing your hips, sliding up under your hoodie to palm your chest. He pinched a nipple and you jolted, whining.
“So sensitive.” He murmured, nipping your bottom lip. “My shy little hunter. Been watching you try so hard to impress me. So fucking cute.”
You were a mess — flushed, teary-eyed from overwhelm, hips rocking eagerly against his thigh. Your kisses were inexperienced and messy, all tongue and teeth and desperation. Dean didn’t seem to mind. He devoured you, grinding harder, one hand slipping down to grip your thigh and hitch it higher around his hip.
“That’s it.” He growled. “Rub that pretty cunt on me. Been dying to feel how wet you get for me.”
You whimpered, hiding your face in his neck as you rutted against his thigh. “Dean, I’ve never— I’m not good at this—”
“You’re perfect.” He said, voice rough. He kissed along your jaw, then bit your earlobe. “So eager. So fucking sweet. Gonna ruin you one day. But tonight? Just let me feel you.”
He kept grinding against you, hands everywhere, tilting your head so he could kiss you deeper. Your moans grew louder, needier. You were soaking through your underwear, the friction driving you crazy.
Dean’s breathing was ragged. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come in my jeans like a teenager.”
You came first — sudden and overwhelming — with a broken cry against his mouth. Your hips stuttered, thighs shaking as pleasure crashed through you. Dean followed right after, groaning your name as he rutted against you one last time.
For a moment, there was only heavy breathing and the sound of crickets.
Then Dean pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were soft, almost fond, even with that trademark smirk.
“Been wanting to do that for a long time.” He admitted.
You stared at him, dazed and flushed. “You…you like me? Like, actually?”
Dean rolled his eyes and kissed your forehead. “Yeah, dumbass. I like you. A lot. Been flirting with you for months. You’re just dense.”
You opened your mouth to reply, but a very tired, very done voice cut through the trees.
“Seriously? We’re in the middle of a werewolf hunt and you two idiots decide now is the time to make out against a tree?”
Sam stood ten feet away, flashlight in hand, looking exhausted.
Dean didn’t even flinch. He kept one arm around your waist, holding you close. “What? Timing’s perfect. Adrenaline’s high.”
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve been watching you two dance around each other for a year. A year. And this is how it happens? While we still have two werewolves out there?”
You hid your burning face in Dean’s chest, mortified but happy.
Dean just grinned. “Relax, Sammy. We’ll finish the hunt. Then I’m taking my boy home and making up for lost time.”
Sam groaned. “I hate both of you. But…it was about time.” He turned and walked away, muttering. “Finally.”
Dean laughed softly and tilted your chin up for one last, slow kiss.
“C’mon, baby.” He whispered against your lips. “Let’s go kill some werewolves. Then I’m gonna take you apart nice and slow back at the motel.”
tags: puppy demi human reader, reader is teething, dry humping, grinding, dubcon, somnophilia, double penetration, heat cycles, ill add more tags later ok ok...
autor's note: ngl this is extremely self indulgent...#needthat
part 1
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟
NSFW UNDER THE CUT
The teething had been bad enough.
For two weeks you had been a menace — floppy ears constantly twitching, sharp puppy teeth leaving marks on anything warm and close. Dean and Castiel bore the worst of it. Their necks, shoulders, and collarbones were littered with hickeys and bite marks. Sam had taken to wearing long sleeves just to avoid accidental nips.
But now something worse was happening.
The teething had triggered the start of your first real heat cycle. Your body burned. You were restless, whiny, and unbearably needy. Slick leaked almost constantly, soaking your underwear and making you embarrassed and skittish. The urge to bite and hump and claim was overwhelming.
You tried to hide it. You really did.
But by the third night, you couldn’t anymore.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟
You waited until the bunker was quiet.
Dean had gone to bed early, exhausted from a long day of research. You crept down the hallway on silent feet, ears low, tail tucked nervously. Your cunt dripping slick down your thighs. The need was unbearable.
You slipped into Dean’s room without knocking.
He was asleep on his back, one arm thrown over his head, sheets low on his hips. The marks you’d left on his neck earlier that day were still visible — dark bruises from your teeth. The sight made something feral twist in your chest.
You crawled onto the bed carefully, straddling his thigh. The moment your soaked cunt pressed against the warm muscle, you whimpered pathetically. You leaned down and latched onto his neck, biting down with a needy whine as you started grinding.
Dean stirred, half-asleep. “Mmm…puppy?”
You didn’t answer. You just bit harder, sucking a fresh mark while your hips rolled desperately against his thigh. Slick smeared across his skin. You were so wet it was embarrassing, but you couldn’t stop. Whiny, breathy sounds escaped around your teeth as you humped his leg faster.
“Fuck…what are you—” Dean’s voice was rough with sleep, but his hands found your hips anyway, gripping you.
You sobbed softly against his neck, overwhelmed. “I’m sorry, I can’t, it hurts— please—”
Dean groaned as he felt how soaked you were. “Jesus, kid. You’re in heat, aren’t you?”
You nodded frantically, still biting and grinding. Your tail wagged desperately even as tears pricked your eyes. “Need you, please…I’m sorry for waking you—”
Dean’s grip tightened. He flexed his thigh under you, giving you more friction. “It’s okay, puppy. Use me. That’s what you need, right?”
You whimpered gratefully and rutted harder, teeth sinking into his shoulder as you chased relief. Dean hissed but didn’t push you away. His cock was hard and tenting his boxers, but he let you focus on his thigh, whispering low praises and teasing words.
“Such a needy little pup. Humping my leg in the middle of the night like a desperate whore. Look at the mess you’re making.”
You cried softly, ears flat, but your hips didn’t stop. The combination of biting and grinding finally pushed you over the edge. You came with a muffled whine against his skin, shaking and soaking his thigh even more.
Dean petted your ears through it. “Good boy. That’s one. Come here.”
He pulled you up and kissed you messily, then guided your hand to his cock. You stroked him shyly until he came with a low groan, painting your fingers and his stomach.
But it wasn’t enough. The heat was just starting.
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟
Castiel found you both the next morning.
You were still in Dean’s bed, curled up and biting lazily at his collarbone while your hips made small, restless movements against his side. Dean was half-awake, one hand lazily scratching behind your ears.
Cas stood in the doorway, eyes wide. “His heat has begun.”
“Yeah.” Dean rasped. “Little shit snuck in here last night and used my thigh like a damn pillow.”
You whined guiltily, ears flattening. “I’m sorry, I tried to be quiet…”
Castiel stepped inside and closed the door. His gaze was soft but heated as he took in the fresh bite marks on Dean’s neck and chest. “You are struggling, little one.”
You nodded, tears already forming. The heat was making you emotional and whiny. “It hurts— I keep leaking and I can’t stop biting and I feel empty…”
Dean and Castiel shared a look.
Dean smirked. “Guess we’re helping our puppy through this.”
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟
They took you together in Dean's bed that evening.
You were a needy, squirmy mess by then — tail wagging frantically, ears twitching, slick dripping down your thighs. You kept trying to hide your face in shame, but they wouldn’t let you.
Dean pulled you into his lap first, kissing you deeply while Castiel watched with dark, reverent eyes. You whimpered and ground against Dean’s thigh again, biting at his neck.
“Easy, puppy.” Dean murmured, but he flexed his leg, giving you friction. “We’ve got you.”
Castiel moved behind you, hands gentle on your hips. “You may bite me if it helps.” He offered softly.
You did. You latched onto Cas’s shoulder while Dean worked your sweatpants down. Soon you were naked between them, cunt dripping.
They took turns teasing you — Dean’s fingers stretching you open while you sucked marks into Castiel’s neck, then Cas’s long fingers curling inside you while Dean kissed you sloppy and deep.
When you started begging — whiny, teary, and desperate — they finally gave in.
Dean lay on his back and pulled you on top of him, sliding into your cunt in one smooth thrust. You moaned loudly, biting down on his shoulder. Castiel knelt behind you, slicking himself with your abundant wetness.
“Are you sure?” Cas asked, ever gentle.
“Please—” you sobbed. “I need both of you. Please—”
Castiel pushed in slowly alongside Dean.
The stretch was overwhelming. You cried out, tears spilling as your body struggled to take both thick cocks at once. Dean held your hips steady while Cas rubbed soothing circles on your back.
“Breathe, puppy.” Dean growled, voice strained. “You’re doing so good. Such a greedy little hole.”
You sobbed and whimpered through the initial burn, but once they were both fully seated, the fullness was perfect. They started moving — slow, careful thrusts at first, then deeper and more coordinated.
You were a wreck — biting, crying, tail wagging wildly as they fucked you together. Dean was mean and teasing, slapping your ass lightly and calling you their “perfect little cock sleeve.” Castiel was gentler, praising you constantly in that gravelly voice.
“You are taking us so well, beloved. Such a good puppy.”
You came hard between them, clenching and sobbing. They fucked you through it, then switched positions.
By the end you were exhausted, covered in bite marks (yours on them, theirs on you), and leaking cum from both holes. You lay between them, panting and whiny, still instinctively nipping at any skin you could reach.
Dean kissed your sweaty forehead. “Feel better, teething monster?”
You nodded shyly, tail wagging weakly. “Thank you…I’m sorry for being so needy.”
Castiel pulled you closer. “Never apologize for needing us.”
Sam, walking past the room later, just sighed deeply when he saw the fresh marks on both their necks.
“I’m not asking.”
Dean grinned tiredly from the bed. “Good. You don’t wanna know.”
You hid your embarrassed face in Castiel’s chest, but your tail gave one last happy wag.
tags: dubious consent, car sex!!! crybaby reader, dacryphilia, grinding, dry humping, overstimulation, multiple reader's orgasms, pup play ?? idk its very light.
autor's note: #needthat
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟
NSFW UNDER THE CUT
The hunt had been a disaster.
Not because you failed — the vampire nest was gone, bodies burned, civilians safe. But you had frozen. Just for a second. Long enough for one of the bloodsuckers to get too close, long enough for Dean to have to throw himself in front of you. He’d taken a slash across his arm that should have been yours.
Now you sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, knees drawn up, ears burning with shame. Silent tears kept slipping down your cheeks no matter how hard you tried to stop them. Your chest hurt. Everything felt too loud, too much.
Dean’s hands were tight on the steering wheel. He hadn’t said much since you left, but the silence was worse than yelling.
Finally, he pulled off the highway onto an old dirt road, killing the engine under a cluster of trees. The Impala’s headlights died, leaving only moonlight.
You sniffled, wiping your face quickly. “I’m sorry.” You whispered, voice cracking. “I froze. I didn’t mean to—”
“Save it.” Dean cut you off, voice sharp. He turned in his seat to look at you. “You cried the whole way back last time too. What is it with you and turning into a damn crybaby after every hunt?”
Your lower lip trembled. Fresh tears spilled over and a sob catched on your throat. “I’m trying to be better. I just…I hate when you get hurt because of me.”
Dean exhaled through his nose, then suddenly reached over and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.
“You think I like watching you fall apart like this?” He asked, mean edge in his tone. “Big tough hunter, but one little scare and you’re leaking tears all over my car. It's— It's pathetic.”
You whimpered, trying to pull away, but his grip was firm. More tears fell. Dean’s eyes darkened as he watched them track down your cheeks.
“Fuck.” He muttered. “Look at you. Crying so pretty for me already.”
He didn’t give you time to process. He shoved his seat back as far as it would go and dragged you across the console into his lap. You yelped, straddling his thighs in the cramped space, hands bracing on his chest.
“Dean— what are you—”
“Shutting you up.” He growled. One big hand gripped your hip, the other fisted in the back of your hoodie. He pulled you down hard against the growing bulge in his jeans.
You gasped sharply as your clothed cunt pressed right against his cock. Even through layers, the friction was intense. You were already a little wet from the adrenaline and stress, and the sudden pressure made you whimper.
Dean rocked his hips up slowly, grinding against you. “That’s it. Rub that needy little pussy on me. Since you’re so good at crying, maybe you can be good at this too.”
You tried to squirm away, overwhelmed and shy, but Dean’s hands locked on your hips, holding you exactly where he wanted you.
“Don’t you dare run.” He warned, voice low and mean. “You got me all worked up with those pretty tears. Now you’re gonna sit here and hump my dick like a good boy.”
He started guiding your hips in slow, deliberate rolls. The rough denim of his jeans dragged perfectly against your clit through your pants. You let out a broken sob, tears falling faster.
“It’s too much—” You cried, ears burning with embarrassment. “Dean, I’m— I’m getting your pants messy—”
“Good.” He snarled, grinding up harder. “Make a mess. Show me how sorry you are.”
Your hands fisted in his jacket as you gave in, rocking against him with shy, desperate movements. Every grind sent sparks up your spine, and Dean could feel the heat of you even through the fabric.
“Fuck, you’re dripping already.” He mocked, one hand sliding up to grip your throat lightly. Not choking — just holding. “My pup's cunt getting all wet and sloppy just from humping against me.”
You sobbed openly, hips moving faster despite yourself. The mean words only made you wetter. Dean’s cock was rock hard beneath you, thick and insistent. He kept guiding you, forcing you to grind down harder, angling you so your clit dragged perfectly with every roll.
“Look at me.” He ordered.
You lifted your tear-streaked face. Dean’s eyes were dark, hungry, a cruel little smirk on his lips.
“That’s it. Cry for me while you ride my lap. Such a sensitive little puppy. One bad hunt and you’re falling apart in my car like a desperate whore.”
You whimpered loudly, fresh tears spilling as the pleasure built fast and overwhelming. Your thighs shook. You tried to slow down when it got too intense, but Dean pinched your hip hard.
“Don’t you stop.” He growled. “You’re gonna come just like this. Gonna soak my jeans while you cry like a baby.”
You broke.
The orgasm hit you hard — sudden, intense, humiliating. You sobbed Dean’s name, grinding frantically against his cock as you came, slick soaking through your clothes and onto his jeans. Your whole body shook with it, tears pouring down your face.
Dean groaned, hips jerking up to meet your desperate movements. “Fuck, that’s hot. Look at the mess you made. Good boy.”
He didn’t let you stop. He kept your hips moving through the aftershocks, dragging your sensitive cunt over his still-hard cock until you were whimpering and trying to pull away.
“Dean, please, it’s too much now— I’m sensitive—”
“Too bad.” He said meanly, holding you down firmly. “You cried so pretty for me. Gonna make you do it again.”
He rocked you against him in slow, filthy grinds, letting you feel every inch of his cock through the wet fabric. You sobbed harder, overwhelmed and overstimulated, but your hips kept twitching, chasing the friction despite yourself.
“Such a crybaby.” Dean taunted, voice rough. “Can’t even handle a little grinding without falling apart. Bet you’d let me fuck you right here if I wanted.”
Yeah, you would.
You came a second time with a broken wail, burying your face in his neck as fresh tears spilled. Dean finally slowed his movements, but kept you pressed tight against him, letting you ride out the tremors.
When you finally went limp, shaking and sniffling, Dean wrapped both arms around you. His voice softened just a fraction.
“There you go.” He murmured, one hand stroking your back. “Let it all out. You did good, baby.”
You clung to him, still crying softly, embarrassed but safe in his arms. Dean kissed the top of your head, then your damp cheek, wiping some of your tears away with his thumb.
“My sensitive boy.” He whispered, half-teasing, half-affectionate. “Next hunt you freeze, we’re doing this again. Got it?”
You nodded shyly against his neck.
Dean chuckled and held you tighter, the leather seats creaking under you both.
summary: PART THREE (FINAL) when Sirius and Remus travel back in time for an Order mission, they come face to face with you: their girlfriend who died during the first Wizarding War
ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ content warning: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, grief, age gap due to time-turning magic, dark themes, morally grey wolfstar, gory scenes, blood, younger and older wolfstar and there is nothing they wouldn't do for you
word count: 7.7k
author's note: sorry for any mistakes. proofreading was attempted, but i am incredibly bad at it! also, inaccurate canon for time turning magic rules but i really don't care. this is the marauders fandom guys xx
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ navigation
read part one here
or part two here!
Getting the timing right on the time turner proved to be quite the challenge. Remus was already nervous about the amount of time they were warping and messing around with, and Sirius agreed that it was best to cut it as finely as possible—in order to not alternate too much.
However, when time flickered and they blinked back to the past, Sirius’ stomach dropped at the sight of the front door cracked open a little. It was pitch black outside and the lights inside the house glowed warm. The garden was still, not a single sound coming from anywhere besides Remus’ ragged breaths.
He surged forward. Sirius grabbed his arm.
“Remus, no,” he managed, “the door’s open. We’re too late in this one."
Remus’ face was strangled, his large hands curling into fists. “What if it’s not too late? We can’t leave her.”
He rushed down the path, shrugging off Sirius’ desperate hands.
“Remus,” Sirius choked. “You don’t want to see her. You don’t want to see how he left her!”
“Get off of me, Sirius,” Remus snapped firmly, and the slightly shorter man was shoved backwards, stumbling onto the cobblestone.
He landed on his ass, his hands breaking his fall as he watched helplessly while Remus stormed inside of the house. Sirius swore he could smell the sickly sweet scent of cinnamon from here.
His heart was hammering in his chest like it had been the time had found you, stuttering and hard, violent and already broken.
He didn’t hear a commotion inside the house. There was no screaming or punches or bursts of magic. Nobody came running out. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, only at some point, he was shaking from the cold as well.
You were dead in this version, too.
Sirius buried his face in his hands. He wanted Remus to come back so they could use the time turner and get out of here, so they could finally save you and maybe, just maybe, he’d never have to see that horrible image of you curled on the kitchen floor again. Maybe he’d forget all about it, and it would feel like it had never happened.
Remus had been in there for nearly an hour when Sirius forced himself back up from the floor.
He found the confidence to stand by the front door, his fingers trembling as he held onto the door frame. Sirius’ nose curled, his face pulled together in grimacing agony. He forced one booted foot through the door.
“Remus?” Sirius called pathetically, like a scared child, his voice wobbling.
His ears strained when he heard what he believed to be a whimper.
Sirius remembered when he had found you, and how one thought that had occurred to him then, and then every night in Azkaban since: He’d had to deal with it alone.
He remembered how much he wished Remus would turn up, and how wrong it had felt to grieve you while Remus was off somewhere, none the wiser. He hated every second in Azkaban, with no clue how Remus was feeling, wondering if Remus had also wished he had been there.
With that thought, Sirius took another step through the door.
His legs felt like lead as he forced them through the corridor, the smell of baking becoming even more apparent in his nose. Then he saw the streaks of blood that met the kitchen door, and as he grew closer and closer, his eyes wider and wider and less believing, he found himself in the frame, staring at Remus cradling you.
Every nightmare came soaring back, and with it, the indescribable sensation of his heart being ripped from his chest and stomped on in front of him. His knees felt weak again, his whole body heavy as he dropped to the ground. Sinking, sinking, sinking, sinking…
Sirius choked and Remus finally tore his gaze from your face.
Remus’ back was against the kitchen counter, his jeans covered in your blood, his hands crimson as he cradled your body to his chest. Sirius could only stare at you, your bloody chest, your messy hair, your eyes shut. Remus was shaking as he cupped your head. His face was so pale it was almost translucent.
“How could he do this to her?” He whispered.
Sirius sat a few feet from them, his face as heavy as his heart felt. “Because in some sick, twisted fucking way, you have to mean the killing curse. He didn’t mean it. Not like he did with Marlene and her family.”
Remus closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to yours. “She loved him.”
Sirius buried his face in his hands. “Rem, let’s go. Please,” his voice broke.
“I can’t just put her back on the floor,” Remus whispered. “I can’t.”
“I’ll find her soon,” Sirius tried to reassure him, though the words felt bitter and he felt sick at the thought that in the world of time travel, there was a version of him who lived in a loop, continuously opening that door and finding his girlfriend in a puddle of her own blood.
Sirius forced himself over and helped Remus to move your body back onto the kitchen floor. He placed his hands over your stomach, and he gently shut your eyes like he had the first time. Remus stroked your hair.
“We can find her and save her now,” Sirius said quietly.
“I want to kill Peter,” Remus admitted.
He had the same dark look in his eye that he wore around the time of the full moon. Sirius wasn’t sure if he was supposed to try and comfort Remus, or if he was supposed to try and talk him out of it. All he knew was that he also wanted to kill Peter. Whether Peter lived or died had never been important to things working out the way they did—it only mattered when he resurrected Voldemort in that graveyard during the second war. Peter had been alive all those years that Sirius had rotted in Azkaban. If he killed him, it wouldn’t make a difference.
But the point was that Sirius couldn’t go back to Azkaban. The point was that he would be free, you would live, and Harry would come to stay with the three of you. Peter would rot in his cell, and the second wizarding war would never happen.
“Azkaban is worse than death,” Sirius assured him.
Remus gave a small nod. “Let’s go then.”
The front door creaked open. Sirius went rigid, only moving when Remus grabbed him by his shoulders, hauling him into the pantry cupboard nearby. Sirius hissed as his leg caught on one of the corners of the shelves.
“Baby?” He heard his own scared voice, slightly younger, and a lot shakier. “Sweetheart, why’s this door open?”
He could remember his exact thought process at that moment. Sirius had known something was wrong. He remembered thinking that maybe if he called out to you like everything was fine, then maybe you’d call back and say you’d burnt something in the oven and you were just airing the house out. Then he’d scold you for keeping the front door unlocked during the height of a war, but would ultimately kiss your pouting lips and sneak a slice of whatever you’d made.
“Come on,” Remus breathed. “You don’t need to relive that.”
He wrapped Sirius’ hands with his around the time turner just as his younger version stumbled upon you. As the younger Sirius began to cry out, words of disbelief growing louder and frantic, Remus flipped back the turner and they were back on the pavement outside.
The door was open.
Sirius turned to Remus angrily, tears pouring down his face uncontrollably.
“We’re too fucking late, again! Stop making us too late!” Sirius seethed at him.
Remus looked furious himself. “You know how temperamental this thing is, and it’s hard to get it right when all of that just bloody happened!”
“Wait!” Sirius called, and stopped Remus from grabbing the time turner again. “Do you hear that?”
There was crying coming from inside the house. His heart clenched and he nearly emptied the contents of his stomach over the floor.
“She’s alive,” Sirius choked.
Remus hesitated, chewing his lip. “It’ll be too late.”
“Fuck that,” Sirius growled, and he raced through the door first that time, barrelling into the corridor and through to the kitchen.
Sirius had spent years wishing he could have been even a little bit earlier. If this version of you was already dying, he’d give you someone to hold onto. He couldn’t just leave you there.
“Sirius!” Remus called after him.
He could hear Remus’ heavy footsteps, but he did not hesitate. He nearly slipped on the blood in the kitchen, his heart lurching as he grabbed the white frame of the door to stop himself. You were laying there, choking on your own blood.
“Baby.” Sirius dropped next to you.
Your glassy eyes found him. The crease between your brows made him coo, and he sniffled as he wiped at your wet face. You strained to open your mouth, a bitter smile beginning to form before your teeth clamped down, a wave of pain rushing through you.
He held a hand over your bleeding chest. “You’re okay,” he whispered. “You’re alright. Remus and I are waiting for you.”
When all you could form was a raspy breath, Sirius choked. He dipped his head into your arm. Part of him had always hoped that maybe it hadn’t been as painful as it looked. He doubted it, considering the sheer amount of harm Peter had done to you, but it made him ache so much more knowing he’d left you to choke on your own blood, cold on your kitchen floor.
“I know it hurts. You can let go, though,” Sirius reassured her.
He felt a presence behind him. Remus put one hand on Sirius’ leg and the other in your hand. His throat was bobbing as he tried to control his sobs.
“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” Remus whispered. His voice caught. “Sirius is right. We’ll come and find you.”
There was some sort of recognition in your eyes as your fingertips spasmed in Remus’. Your eyes began to flicker, and as soon as your lashes touched your cheeks, you were gone.
Sirius beamed wetly, and laughed bitterly as he wiped at his face. Remus grabbed him and yanked him into a tight hug.
“Fifteen years I’ve been desperate for just that,” Sirius admitted. “Not even to save her—I just—I just always wish I had been there sooner. So she wasn’t all by herself.”
Remus nodded, his words getting stuck in his throat for a moment. “I wanted to be there, too. I wanted to be with you both so badly. I couldn’t—I couldn’t stop thinking of you both alone afterwards.”
“We won’t be ever again,” Sirius swore, and grasped Remus’ hands so tight that he thought he might accidentally break his fingers. “All three of us. We’ll always—It will always be the three of us.”
Remus dropped his forehead to Sirius and nodded tearily. “That’s all I ever wanted.”
Salty water combined at their chins. Joined hands reached for the necklace hanging around Remus’ neck. They turned it, once, then twice.
This time, the door was closed. Sirius sighed in relief as Remus dug through his bag for the de-ageing potion that they had stolen from Hogwarts.
“We have to be quick about this,” Remus warned, and Sirius only nodded in agreement, accepting half of the drink from him, both men downing it at once.
The effects of the potion worked quickly. Like before, there was an uncomfortable jolt and then everything began to become slightly brighter, and slightly sharper, too. Sirius patted his face when he was done, blinking to rid the dizziness, and checked Remus over. He didn’t look a day over twenty-two. He pressed a kiss to Remus’ lips.
“Let’s do this,” he breathed.
Remus smiled nervously, and took Sirius’ hand, leading him down the cobblestone pavement. He pushed the front door open. The aroma of cinnamon had become so normal that he hardly smelt it now, but his heart nearly stopped in his chest when he heard the sound of music playing through the record player in the dining room.
Your voice chimed in quietly to the soft sounds of Fleetwood Mac, and Remus nearly choked on the memories of your first kiss with him. He always liked to put their self-titled album on because he loved the way you flushed, also remembering back to a time where he had you in his dormitory. Every now and again, after a few drinks, Sirius would put it on and sit back so he could watch the two of you dance in the middle of the living room, as if you were back in the Gryffindor tower.
He shared a look with Sirius, who smiled wearily. They both stepped forward until they were in the kitchen doorframe. The tiled floors were pristine, perhaps even freshly mopped as Remus scanned them, as if looking for drops of blood, despite the fact that you stood with your back to them at the sink.
You were washing up an abundance of dishes and baking trays, your bright yellow gloves pulled up to your elbows. You grabbed the mixing spoon and stuck the end in your mouth, licking the cake mixture off when you seemed to notice the eyes on you.
You flinched, your heart skipping a beat. “Merlin’s beard!” You scolded them. “You both made me jump.” Then you glanced at the spoon in your hand, your cheeks flushing as you dropped it into the soapy dish water. “Every great baker tests their treats along the way.”
You always said that. Sirius had forgotten you always used to say that.
Your gaze flickered across both of them, your face softening as you peeled off your gloves. “Are you both going to just stand there and say nothing? I am sorry for trying to force you both to work your argument out, only you don’t realise how hard it is to be in the middle of world war three.”
Remus cleared his throat. “Don’t apologise for that. You should never apologise for that.”
You folded your arms across your chest. “Have you talked?”
“We have,” he said softly. “We talked for a very, very long time.”
“And?” You prompted.
“We’re both the worst,” Sirius concluded. “We’re both irrational and stupid and over emotional, and you must be the kindest, most special person in the whole world to put up with all of our bullshit.”
You shook your head and sighed. “Neither of you are stupid or the worst. Over emotional, yeah. Irrational? Definitely. Especially you, Black,” you smiled. “But you shouldn’t say those things about yourselves. You’re both just scared. I’m scared, too. I’ve not been perfect either.”
Remus shook his head disbelievingly. “You have been perfect forever. Not once have you let us down.”
“Hm. Is that why you both stormed out when I was trying to help?”
Both their faces fell as if you had punched them. You furrowed your brows. The devastation that crept over their features was unlike anything you had seen from them before, and you wanted to ask them why, but Sirius surged forward and squeezed you into a tight hug.
“We’ll never storm out again,” Sirius mumbled into your hair. “I don’t want to. I really don’t want to.”
You glanced concernedly at Remus, stroking Sirius’ back.
“You were only gone a few hours. I’ve kept myself busy. I made some of that carrot cinnamon cake.”
When Sirius pulled back, he kissed you hard on the lips.
“It smells amazing,” he said. He was sure it did, but he knew he never wanted to smell it again after today.
You smiled softly at him, and then Remus reached across, and you were pulled into another kiss. Remus kept both his hands on your lower back, dragging you up to him, kissing you for slightly longer than usual. You held his jaw as you moved away.
“I love you both,” you said softly, and ran a hand through Sirius’ hair. “I’m so happy you were able to work everything out in the end. What was the verdict?”
Sirius cleared his throat as you turned back to your dishes. “Erm, that life’s too short to hold grudges against the people you want to spend the rest of it with.”
You turned from the dishes, cooing at him. “Those hours away have made you smarter, Black. You’ve come back a wise old man.”
Remus’ eyes softened even more, if that were possible, and he melted into the back of you, his arms wrapping around your waist, his head dipping to rest in the crook of your neck. You giggled, but relaxed back into him.
“This is the song that was playing when you first kissed me,” you reminded him, as he always did.
Remus laughed quietly against your skin and swayed his hips as he always used to, holding onto you so that you were forced to copy him. He closed his eyes when he felt them start to burn, and tore away from you gently once he felt them threaten to squeeze past his lashes.
You didn’t notice the emotions that had stuck your boyfriend, and finished washing your last dish, placing it on the drying rack.
“There’s magic for that, you know,” Sirius reminded you softly. He wanted you to stop so he could hold you properly. He was itching to.
“I like the smell of the washing up liquid,” you said. “And I think the dishes are cleaner afterwards.”
Sirius watched you carefully as you placed the gloves over the tap to dry, and then popped your rings back on from the windowsill. He couldn’t believe how quickly everything came flooding back. Small parts of your routine that had left his head completely came rushing in now, to the point where Sirius recalled exactly which ring went on which finger.
He watched you grab a tea towel to start drying up, and it was then that he realised he hated what you were wearing. Your dress felt like a costume now; part of a scene that Sirius wished had never played out. Once you took it off, he swore he’d get rid of it, and he’d never have to see it ever again—not in the back of your wardrobe, nor in the back of his head.
“I still think that perhaps we should have that conversation together,” you said, a hint of nervousness in your tone. “I think it’s absolutely wonderful that the two of you have made up, but the things you were accusing each other of…” You shook your head, and faced them as you multitasked. “I never want to hear you say things like that ever again.”
Sirius ducked his head, ashamed. Remus was the first to speak, “You’re right. We can have the conversation tonight, if you’d like.”
“I was wrong,” Sirius admitted. “I never should have pointed fingers at Remus. Neither of us would ever do anything to put James, Lily, or Harry in jeopardy, or to help Voldemort in general. I just… Don’t even know what I was thinking.”
“Neither do I,” Remus agreed. “We are so sorry.”
“I just don’t want anything to happen to us,” you whispered worriedly, furrowing your brows. “What if you two fight so badly one day that we can never come back from it?”
Sirius swallowed. “You worry about that?”
You nodded timidly. “I don’t want you to feel guilty. It’s just, sometimes when you argue, I feel this horrible sense of dread that one of you will take it too far, and we’ll all have to deal with the consequences.”
Anguish splattered Remus’ face and he couldn’t help but grab you, yanking you into a bone crushing hug. You squeezed him back, one of your hands wriggling to blindly invite Sirius over too. Remus opened his arm when he realised what you were doing, and you both grasped onto him. You felt safer than ever wedged between both men, your head resting against Remus’ chest. You could hear the soft drumming of his heartbeat, like your favourite song.
Your face pressed painfully against something cold and hard. Peeling away, you kept Remus at arms length and clutched at the necklace around his neck, your brows furrowing.
“What’s this?” You asked, and then you blinked. “That’s a time-turner.”
Sirius stilled. “How do you know what a time turner is?”
“You had one. Back at school…” You said, shaking your head. “It’s all foggy. I’m just remembering now. I completely forgot you had one. Where did you find it?”
Remus pulled it back from your fingers. “I never had a time-turner at school. This isn’t… it’s not a time-turner, sweetheart, it’s just…”
“It’s jewellery I gave him so he’d forgive me,” Sirius attempted.
You scowled and shoved the tea towel at him. “Don’t you dare both act like I am stupid.” You folded your arms against your chest. “What have you both been up to?”
Remus cursed, running a hand through his hair. “Baby, just… Do you remember anymore of us showing you it, or is that all?”
Sirius had never even thought to suggest to Remus that they check his advanced Obliviation spell worked. It certainly couldn’t have been strong for the sight of the time-turner to jog your memory, either that or the laws of time-turning had some sort of effect on Obliviation spells.
You thought for a moment. “I remember Sirius being really upset—wait, no—Sirius was in the hospital wing, he’d been hurt during the full. You were showing me because—no, you were in the hospital wing, too. I was dreaming because I was stressed and…” You glared at the floor, and then back up at them.
They knew the moment it clicked.
Your mouth dropped open and you backed up further, your hands gripping the edge of the counter. Your eyes darted between them both, suddenly brimming with tears. You held a hand over your pounding heart.
“You said you’d come back to—” You breathed. “Oh, Merlin’s beard, you’re the same Sirius and Remus who visited me that night, aren’t you? You’re from the future. How did I just forget all of that? You said you’d come back to the day I die—is—is it about to happen?”
“It’s supposed to,” Sirius said roughly. “It’s not going to happen.”
You clutched your forehead, blinking rapidly. Remus placed a soothing hand on the small of your back, rubbing circles.
“Peter…” You exhaled. “Peter asked…”
Your legs became heavy beneath you and you slid to the floor slowly, your back against the counter. Sirius gulped at the sight of you, in that dress, on this kitchen floor. Remus knelt beside you, ignoring the clicks in his knees.
“You’re not going to die tonight,” Remus promised through gritted teeth. “Do you remember what we said about Peter framing Sirius?”
“Vaguely,” you nodded. “Yeah. Yes, I do. Sorry. It was three years ago for me.”
“Three hours for us,” Sirius mumbled teasingly, and joined you on the ground. “We’re going to get him tonight, sweetheart. He’ll be the one who goes to Azkaban, and you’ll live. We’ll all be with each other for a very, very long time.”
You buried your face in your hands as you thought hard. Minutes later, your face emerged.
“How will Peter go to Azkaban if he never kills me? He’s not committed the crime, then,” you said.
“He kills the muggles,” Remus said quickly, before Sirius could speak.
“Then surely he goes to muggle prison.”
Sirius’ mouth trembled. “You’re not the only person he gets killed tonight,” he burst.
Remus shot him a furious look. “Sirius,” he scolded scathingly.
“Who?” You demanded, your voice wobbling, and your heart caught when you saw how upset they both looked, and it all pieced together. “It’s Harry, isn’t it? He gives him to Voldemort, doesn’t he? No. That’s impossible. You’re the secret-keeper, Sirius. So who is it?”
Remus pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a long moment. “Sirius was never the secret-keeper. It was Peter. James asked Sirius, but Sirius thought it'd be better for them to choose somebody nobody expected.”
Your mouth fell open and your eyes brimmed with tears. “But—but— So–so Harry dies tonight? Baby Harry?”
“Not Harry,” Sirius grunted, and turned away in an effort to avoid you seeing his face.
“No,” you gasped, and you grasped Remus’ jumper, and this time the tears poured down your cheeks as if the faucet had been switched on. His thumbs wiped them slower than they came. “No, no, no. Not James. Not Lily! No! No!”
You smacked at Remus’ chest, and he grasped your wrists gently, closing his eyes. Sirius buried his face in his hands, as if to save himself from the sight. He’d never had to watch someone mourn their best friends before. It was like someone had ripped out the stitches he’d so messily patched himself up with.
“No!” You sobbed. “No, no. Remus. Remus, we need to go and help them. Like you’re helping me! We need to get to them.”
“We can’t,” Sirius croaked, and his fists clenched by his sides. You didn’t understand him in the slightest. “Voldemort wants Harry. It’s Lily’s protection that ultimately kills him.”
“You said he comes back anyway!” You bellowed.
You still didn’t understand. How could they just stand here?
“If we save Lily and James, Voldemort won’t die,” Remus said. “He’s winning right now, isn’t he? It’s getting worse out there. Peter is the reason Voldemort’s resurrected in about thirteen, fourteen years. We can send Peter to Azkaban instead of Sirius, and that will be the end of him. No second war. Minimal sacrifice.”
Your lip wobbled and you clutched him tighter. “There has to be another way. You worked it out for me. We can work something out for them, too. What if we can defeat Voldemort? How did Lily do it? Can’t we warn them?”
“It was Lily’s sacrifice that killed him,” Remus whispered. “Nobody could ever recreate such a thing.”
You turned away from them both and paced the room, back and forth, back and forth.
“We’ll save Harry,” Sirius said quietly, as if that would make you feel any better. “If we’re all here, Harry will have a home.”
“He doesn’t if we’re not?”
“He gets sent to his muggle aunt,” Sirius scowled. “And she’s awful to him.”
You wiped away tears, and then some more. “He deserves to be with his mum and dad. He deserves Lily and James, not us. I’m—I’m too young. He’ll be so confused.”
Remus hesitated. “Harry suffers a lot thanks to Peter. He lost his parents, but at least he’ll grow up knowing the sacrifice they made, and he’ll live a happier, longer life. We just need to stop Peter.”
You turned away from them, your chest hollow. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye. Lily rang me this morning. Harry was trying to babble down the phone to me, like he does. James was—he was trying to tell me about the costume he picked out for Harry, even though they can’t go trick or treating, and I was just—I was so upset about all of the stuff going on between the three of us that I was hardly listening. I didn’t even pay attention when Lily said she had to go, I can’t even remember if I told her I’d see her soon—or—or if—” you choked, burying your face again.
Sirius grabbed you, and wrangled you into his arms. “We will get through this together,” he whispered. “We will make sure it’s justified. I promise you that.”
You shook your head. “There must be another way to defeat Voldemort. There must be something else.”
“Nobody has worked it out,” he murmured. “Nobody but Lily.”
You rested your head against his arm, relishing in the way he ran his fingers through your hair. Your heart ached painfully, mourning the friends who weren’t gone yet.
“Can’t we work that part out later?” You mumbled solemnly.
Remus joined you, placing a hand on Sirius’ arm. “Maybe one day we can come back, but… we’re not sure how much that would impact our timeline, sweetheart. The… If Voldemort keeps winning for much longer, there’s a chance he’ll tip the scales completely. James, Lily, and Harry would all die later, we could all die too, in battle. There’s too much possibility.”
“But you’re saving me,” you whispered, and then you pulled away to keep Sirius at arm’s length. “What if that’s the wrong thing to do?”
Remus swallowed. “Your death was completely unjustified and only saved Peter in the grand scheme of things. It damned Sirius, it damned me. It’ll have minimal impact on the outcome of the war, and…”
“A great big fucking impact on our livelihoods,” Sirius finished.
Your silence was deafening. Your eyes were slightly swollen, your lips redder than usual. You brushed your hair from your face and breathed in and out, focusing on the floor.
“How could Peter do this to all of us?” You croaked after minutes.
Sirius caressed your face. “He only cared about himself.”
You tilted your head so his hand cupped your jaw, and his thumb wiped some water from above your top lip. His grey eyes watched you so softly, so earnestly, and you could see that he was breaking down inside, too. The thought of your Sirius spending the rest of his youth behind prison bars made your skin crawl. It made you want to find Peter and kill him there and then.
“What’s the plan, then?” You mumbled.
Sirius reached out to kiss your forehead. “We get as far away from here as possible, so Peter can’t hurt you.”
“He’s going to frame you,” you tell him angrily. “Whether you are here or not, Sirius, he will try to frame you for James and Lily’s deaths, if not mine.”
You felt sick as your friends’ names left your mouth. You felt like you were betraying them for not helping. You wondered if Remus was telling the truth about potentially going back in time at a later date to save them once they knew how to defeat Voldemort. For your own sanity, you chose to believe him.
Remus furrowed his brows. “What are you suggesting?”
The oven began to beep, and all your gazes flickered over. You switched it off so it would stop the noise.
“Well, Peter asked to come over tonight,” you swallowed, and grabbed the oven mitts, placing them over your hands before retrieving your cake. “I made him his favourite and everything. I suppose it’d be rather rude if I didn’t welcome him.”
Both men felt sick as pieces of an old puzzle began to fall into place. You had invited Peter over that night and baked for him specially. You’d sat with him and talked, and he had killed you anyway.
Sirius looked horrified. “You want to… do what? Let him in?”
Remus thought for a moment. “You want to trap him.”
“The aurors can deal with him, but if he runs away, we’re screwed,” you said. “And I’ll be damned if Peter gets away with it again.”
“I don’t know how I feel about it,” Sirius said. “You—what if he—what if he gets you again?”
“You two will be here. He won’t know it. I’ll get him.”
“We can grab him,” Remus said.
“No. I want to,” you scowled. “If Peter thinks he’s clever killing his unsuspecting friends, then we’ll have to see how clever he feels when I already know what’s coming.”
“No, no way,” Sirius shook his head. “No. I can’t—I can’t see it happen again—I can’t—”
Your eyes turned softer, and you grasped his face. “I want to get him. I am a capable witch.”
“More than capable,” Remus agreed after a moment, though his eyes were strained. “You should know that he doesn’t use magic.”
“He doesn’t?”
“No,” Sirius spat, and he reached over the counter for the knife that swam in the back of his head every night before sleep. “So I’m taking this. No chances.”
Your mouth dropped open slightly and your stomach flipped. “He—he—” You shook your head, and looked at the time on the clock. “It doesn’t matter. He’s coming over in twenty minutes.”
“Wait,” Remus grabbed Sirius’ arm before they could spring into action. “Remember when we cornered him at the Shrieking Shack? He turned into his animagus form.”
Your eyes lit up and you beamed at Sirius. “How do you fancy a trip up into the loft for that old gerbil cage I had?”
Sirius grinned.
── .✦
Your heart was pounding out of your chest when you heard the doorbell ring. You adjusted your hair in the mirror by the dining table, and nearly jumped when Sirius swooped out of the pantry cupboard to grasp your waist and drag you into a kiss. Your mouth melted against his, his hands shaking as he released you, and then you kissed the fond face of Remus Lupin, too.
“You know what to say if you want us to jump in.”
“I ask him if he wants to try the brownies I made.”
“Good girl,” Remus mumbled, and kissed your hairline. “Get him.”
You squeezed his hand and shut the pantry cupboard door, leaving them both in the darkness with their wands drawn. You exhaled and headed for the door just as the bell rang again.
You yanked it open and forced a smile at Peter.
“Pete,” you greeted.
Peter smiled at you, a smile that you thought was nervous as you studied it, and entered your house when you stood aside to make room for him.
“Shoes off,” you reminded him.
You felt an odd sense of imposter syndrome knowing that you had done all of this before. You wondered if subconsciously you were changing your dialogue or if you had said this all of those years ago in the world Sirius and Remus knew you from.
Peter yanked off his shoes and put them beside a pair of Remus’ Doc Martens.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “I’ve just had a really long day.”
He followed you through to the kitchen. You were hesitant to have your back turned to him, but Sirius had told you that you had both eaten by the time he had tried anything on you. You clung onto that information for dear life.
“What were you up to?” You asked. “Please, sit down. I made your favourite.”
Peter smiled tiredly. “Thanks, Y/N. Just some paperwork I didn’t finish at work yesterday. Wasn’t really planning to spend my Saturday filling out forms.”
“Something you would have rather been doing?” You asked, your teeth nearly gritted, but thankfully Peter looked too tired and wrapped up in himself to notice.
He shook his head. “No. It’s been really quiet for me lately. I was happy when you phoned earlier. I was going to ask to see you tonight anyway.”
“It’s a shame Sirius and Remus couldn’t be here,” you said. “They would have loved to have seen you. It’s been so long since we all hung out as a group.”
“Too long,” Peter agreed, and you noticed the way his gaze flickered to the table.
You reached for two small plates from the cupboard.
“Phoned James and Lily this morning,” you told him. “Harry’s really trying to talk now, bless him.”
He looked visibly uncomfortable as you placed his plate in front of him.
“Do you want a big bit or a little bit?” You asked, and put the cake between you both.
“Little bit’s fine.”
“Oh, come on, Pete. I made this for you. Rem and Sirius won’t help me eat all of this.”
“Where are they both?” Peter asked, and accepted the large portion you put on his plate.
“Both went out for a bit,” you said as he ate a forkful.
“Ah. This is really good, Y/N. Brilliant as always.”
“Thank you, Pete. Glad you think so.”
You ate some of yours as you watched him, and you wondered what you had thought about in the past, when you had been utterly clueless. Had you been filling the space with all of your chatter? That was what you often liked to do with Peter, and then he’d always agree with you and add his own piece.
He ate quicker than you wanted to. You’d hoped the more he had on his plate, the longer it’d take for him to get to this part.
“What were Remus and Sirius arguing about?”
Your brows furrowed, confused.
“On the phone earlier. You said it’d be just us because they were upset with one another. Was it just typical Remus and Sirius drama, or was there something wrong?”
You put your pudding fork on your empty plate and pursed your lips. “Between you and I, the rat in the Order is really starting to get to them.”
Peter frowned. “Who do they think it is?”
“Each other,” you said, and watched him blanch. “Yes, really stupid, isn’t it?” You agreed with a small laugh as you climbed from your seat. “As if good men like Remus or Sirius would ever do something so low and insane.”
You turned to grab a cloth from the counter, and heard the chair scrape back behind you. You instinctively looked over your shoulder, seeing as this time, you knew what the commotion was.
“Avada Kedavra!” Peter cried, and for a second you tensed, flinching, but nothing happened. You looked down at your hands, and flexed your fingers across the cloth, dropping it back down.
You began to glare. “Really?” You laughed horribly at him. “You come into my house, I treat you like a friend, and you don’t even have the decency to curse me to my face?”
Peter trembled, swallowing thickly. “Avada Kedavra!” He tried again, and then shook his wand. “Fuck! Why’s it—why—” he panicked breathlessly. “Y/N, I’m sorry—I have to—Why’s it not—?”
“You need to mean it, to kill me,” you snapped, and watched his eyes dart around the kitchen for the next nearest weapon. “You want to stab me, do you, Peter? Why? So you can frame Sirius for everything? So there won’t be an alibi? So Remus won’t defend him? So I won’t defend him?”
Peter scowled at her. “You don’t understand!”
“I don’t want to understand you. You’re pathetic!” You seethed at him.
He tried his wand again. “Expelliarmus!”
Your wand flew from your grip, and as he moved to tackle you, the pantry door opened behind him and Sirius was on him within a moment, his arm wrapped around his neck, strangling.
“Yeah, you know who this is,” Sirius spat viciously against his ear.
“Sirius!” Peter struggled, his hands desperately trying to scratch the other man’s pale skin. “Remus, help—help me!”
Remus was already diving down as soon as Peter began to shrink. He had seen it a hundred times before, the way his clothes suddenly started to become too big. You did the same, rushing for him as Sirius blindly stomped on the pair of trousers.
“Sirius, we can’t kill him!” Remus warned.
You found his fat little body and squashed him against the floor so he couldn’t bite you with his long teeth. Sirius was quick to grab the tongs he’d left out to pick Wormtail up, and he threw him in the cage, snapping the door shut.
“You’ll be staring at bars for a long while now,” Sirius laughed. “You best get used to it.”
Wormtail scrambled around, desperately trying at the bars with his teeth and then his little hands, but nothing gave way and he squeaked and squeaked and squeaked.
“We know what you did to James and Lily,” you croaked at him. “And the aurors are on their way. You’ll get what you deserve, Peter.”
Remus held onto you as the adrenaline wore off and you began to cry again. You cried for Lily, James, and Harry. You cried because Peter, one of your best friends, had just tried to kill you and frame your boyfriend. You cried because the look of relief on Remus and Sirius’ faces was enough for you to realise you had most likely just escaped a truly gruesome, horrible fate: for all three of you.
── .✦
“What happens now?” You asked as you uncurled yourself from Sirius’ grasp a couple of hours later. “Surely your younger versions will be coming home soon. They’ll have no clue any of this has happened.”
Peter had been taken away in his cage, the most satisfying sight for Sirius who knew that Peter was about to endure the worst years of his life. Now that they knew Peter was an unregistered animagus too, there was no chance of him slipping through those bars the same way Sirius had a couple of years ago.
Remus thought for a few moments. “We can Obliviate you. It’s most likely the safest option. The less people who know we meddled with time, the better. Once we’re back to our present time, the time loop will complete itself and become full circle.”
“So, when you get back, there will be a thirty-something-year-old version of me with you?”
“That’s the plan,” Sirius squeezed your fingers. “And hopefully we’ll have twenty years of memories to look back on. Ones you need to make for us now.”
You smiled sadly. “I like the way you put that. What if I remember again? It didn’t work last time.”
“I think the time turner may have triggered your memory,” Remus said. “But I’ll be returning this as soon as we are back.”
You hummed. “Alright. It’s strange that I won’t remember today. I won’t know I was ever supposed to die. But I suppose that’s how it’s supposed to work.”
“It’s probably best you don’t,” Sirius said. “We can leave enough memory that you remember stopping Peter, so when the aurors interrogate you, they don’t realise you’ve been Obliviated, and see us here.”
You kissed him on the mouth, your hand tangling with his dark hair. Then, you kissed Remus.
“Do it now. I don’t enjoy goodbyes.”
“You’ll see us both really soon.”
── .✦
You yawned as you finished clingfilming the sandwich you’d prepared for tomorrow, your head unexpectedly bumping backwards against a hard chest. Arms wrapped around you, and your heart skipped a beat when Sirius ducked to kiss your jaw. Your eyes flickered across the room where Remus sat at the dining table, Harry on his lap. Remus read his own book whilst Harry attempted one himself.
“He’s converting him lame,” Sirius whispered against your ear, and you giggled. “James would be horrified.”
“James wasn’t quite as illiterate as you are,” you told him teasingly, and shrieked as Sirius wriggled his fingers into his ribs the way he did with Harry to rile him up. “Stop! Hey!”
“Siri!” Harry scolded, at the same time as Remus shot him a look.
“Hey, hey,” Sirius held his hands up innocently. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
“You hurted her!”
“I tickled her,” Sirius corrected him. “Shall I tickle you next?”
“No!” Harry laughed.
“Then mind your own beeswax, mister,” Sirius played, and moved around to ruffle Harry’s uncontrollable hair—already as bad as James’ was.
“He was just sticking up for Y/N, weren’t you, Harry?” Remus noted warmly, and squeezed Harry’s shoulder in an attempt to get him to stay seated.
They could see the look in Harry’s eyes—Sirius had set him off.
“Yeah,” Harry said proudly and leaned back with his book.
“Well, I’ve packed your lunch for tomorrow,” you beamed, and placed it in the fridge beside his yogurt and his fruit—you’d taken him to the shops that day so he could pick out what he wanted. “Are you excited for your first day of school?”
“No,” Harry huffed. “I like being here. With you.”
“I’ll be here when you get home,” you reminded him. “Every day. I’m not going anywhere, Harry.”
Remus stroked Harry’s hair endearingly. “None of us are. How about you run upstairs and get into bed and one of us will come and read to you.”
Harry nodded eagerly.
“Who would you like tonight?”
“You, Rem. You do the best voices.”
Remus stuck his tongue out at Sirius, who played back.
“Alright, alright. Hurry upstairs then, Harry. If you take too long, I’ll miss my bedtime, and then we’ll both be grouchy in the morning!”
Harry stood up and tucked his book beneath his arm. He walked over to you and let you routinely kiss the top of his head, and then he moved to Sirius and gave him a hug as always. Sirius jabbed his fingers in his ribs and Harry’s squeal echoed through the house. Remus hissed.
“Run, Harry! Or I’ll get you again!” Sirius called as Harry took off running and laughing. “Remember the only safe place is under your duvet!”
You chuckled and shook your head.
“Good luck getting him to wind down,” Sirius smiled smugly at Remus. “Should be a piece of cake for you, considering you’re so good at the voices.”
Remus rolled his eyes but smiled amusedly and kissed Sirius’ cheek. “How bitter are you, Black?”
“Bitter is my middle name, don’t you know?”
“Thought it was Jealous,” you teased, and snaked your arms around Sirius’ thin waist.
Remus laughed and kissed you next.
“I best put him to bed, then. I guess I have been selected.”
“Thank you, Rem,” you said warmly.
“I can’t believe it’s his first day of school tomorrow,” Sirius said, and held onto your hands, relishing in the way it felt to have your front against his back. “Time has flown by so quickly.”
“It’s terrifying,” you agreed.
Remus hummed. “God knows where we’d be without Harry. Wouldn’t change this for the world.”
You smiled, and you supposed that, after all of the shit the wizarding war had brought, and with the loss of your friends, this was the best outcome imaginable.
forcemasc but it's roughhousing with your cis best friend after you come out. you have to deal with him teasing you with words like, "c'mon, this is just how boys mess around," and "is that all you've got? hit me like a the man you are," as he straddles your hips and holds your hands down.
he leans down and whispers, "we're just boys being boys. you can take it, right?" he asks, while he deliberately grinds his hips against yours as if trying to provoke you, and it works.
you struggle to escape his hold, but finally manage. you both toss and turn on the floor until you eventually end up on top. you attempt to restrict him in the same way he did to you, pushing your hips down onto his.
he looks up at you with a mischievous grin, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. "there we go..." he mutters as he moves his hips upward slightly.
“that’s my boy.”
nine in the morning btw… what am i doing w my life 🧍🏽.
text: [ “Some of you have forgotten that only three years ago you were perfectly capable of writing an essay, writing a eulogy, telling a bedtime story to a child, and it should worry you that powerful companies have convinced us we can’t do things we’ve been doing for 5000 years.” ]
And they're absolutely specifically pushing it, make no mistake. It's not just a matter of "it's there, it's convenient, so people are going to take the path of the least resistance", but it is a legitimate and concerted effort on the part of these companies to get people to outsource all these things to their models.
They're preying on insecurities to do it. Yes, you can write an essay - but can you write a good essay, they ask you. Do you not want to improve your output? Do you not want people to think of you as competent and very clever? Why go through the mortifying process of failing and failing and failing until you succeed if you can just skip the "learning" part of doing, and simply generate a ready-made product?
I'm preaching to the choir here obviously but it's a concerning thing to witness nonetheless. My kid is 6 next week and I've been teaching her that failing at things is morally neutral and in fact necessary even before the advent of AI, but it's becoming ever more important that we teach the kids that criticism and failure and discomfort aren't necessarily bad things, but just a part of the growth process.
