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joycrispy · 7 months

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One thing I love about Crowley --never stated, but consistently shown-- is that he is, at heart, an engineer.

I have a few different things to say about that. Let's unpack them.

As the Unnamed Angel, we see his designs for the Pillars of Creation are millions of pages long, comprised of cramped text, footnotes, diagrams, schematics, etc. It's very...Renaissance polymath, in the way it implies a particular intersection of artist and inventor.

Also: in the naked romanticism with which he views his stars.

We already knew he made stars, but in s2 we learn that he did NOT sculpt each of them by hand. He designed a nebula ("a star factory," he says) that will form several thousand young stars and proto-planets, and all --aside from getting the 'factory' running-- without him lifting a finger. We also learn that these young stars and proto-planets stand in contrast to those made by other angels, which are going to come 'pre-aged.'

...I'm reminded of Hastur and Ligur's approach to temptations. Damning one human soul at a time, devoting singular attention to it over the course of years or decades, and how that stands in contrast to Crowley's reliance on, quote, 'knock-on effects.'

Ligur: It's not exactly...craftsmanship. Crowley: Head office don't seem to mind. They love me down there.

Hm.

I'm also reminded of the M25.

The M25 may not be as grand as a nebula (sentences you only say in GOmens fandom...), but LIKE his nebula it's an intricate, self-sustaining engine that does Crowley's work for him, many times over. Again.

That's some pretty neat characterization --and so is the indication towards Crowley's disinterest in victimizing anyone tempting individual people. It takes a considerable amount of planning and effort (and creeping about in wellies), but in accordance with his design the M25 generates a constant stream of low-grade evil on a gigantic scale.

Cumulatively gigantic, that is. Individually? Negligible.

But no other demon understands human nature well enough to parse that one million ticked-off motorists are not, in any meaningful way, actually equivalent to one dictator, or one mass-murderer, or even one little influential regressive. That's the trick of it. Crowley gets Hell's approval (which he NEEDS to survive, and to maintain the degree of freedom he's eked out for himself), and at the same time ensures that any actual ~Evil Influence~ is spread nice and thin.

It's some clever machinery. And he knows it, too:

The Unnamed Angel and Crowley are both proud of their ideas.

(musings on professional pride, Leonardo da Vinci, the crank handle, and 'the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale' under the cut)

In the 1970's Crowley gives a presentation on the M25, projector and all, to a room full of increasingly impatient demons. Maybe the presentation was work-ordered; the 'can I hear a WAHOO?' definitely wasn't.

Before the Beginning, the Unnamed Angel can barely contain his excitement about his nebula. Aziraphale manages a baffled-but-polite, "....That's nice... :)"

11 years ago, Hastur and Ligur want to 'tell the deeds of the day,' and Crowley smiles to himself because (according to the script-book) he knows he has 'the best one.'

(Naturally, his 'deed' has nothing to do with tempting anybody, and everything to do with setting up a human-powered Rube-Goldberg machine of petty annoyance. Oodles of 'Evil' generated; very little harm done.)

Hastur and Ligur don't get it, of course. That's also consistent.

Nobody ever knows what the hell he's talking about.

It didn't make it on-screen, but, in both the novel AND the script-book, Crowley was friends with Leonardo da Vinci. The quintessential Renaissance polymath. That's where he got his drawing of the Mona Lisa --they're getting very drunk together, and Crowley picks up the 'most beautiful' of the preliminary sketches. He wants to buy it. Leonardo agrees almost off-the-cuff, very casual, because they're friends, and because he has bigger fish to fry than haggling over a doodle:

He goes, "Now, explain this helicopter thingie again, will you?" Because he's an engineer, too.

(It is 1519 at the latest, in this scene. Why the FUCK would Crowley know about helicopters, and be able to explain them, comprehensively, to Leonardo da Vinci?

...Well. I choose to believe he got bored one day and worked it out. Look, if you know how to build a nebula, you can probably handle aerodynamics. And anyway, I think it's telling that this is his idea of shooting the shit. 'A drunken mind speaks a sober heart,' and all. He probably babbled about Aziraphale long enough to make poor Leo sick)

Apart from Aziraphale, Leonardo da Vinci is the only person Crowley has any keepsakes or mementos of.

Think about that, though. Aziraphale's bookshop is bursting with letters, paintings, busts, and personalized signatures memorializing all the humans he's known and befriended over 6000 years (indeed: Aziraphale has living human friends up and down Whickber Street. He's part of a community).

Crowley doesn't have any of that. It's just the stone albatross from the Church (for pining), the infamous gay sex statue (for spicy pining), the houseplants (for roleplaying his deepest trauma over and over, as one does), and this one piece of artwork, inscribed, "To my friend Anthony from your friend Leo da V."

To me, at least, that suggests a level of attachment that seems to be rare for Crowley.

...Maybe he liked having someone to talk shop with? Someone who was interested? Someone engaged enough to ask questions when they didn't immediately understand?

...Anyway.

There's also the matter of the crank handle.

This thing:

This is one of the subtler changes from the book. In the book, Crowley knows Satan is coming and, desperate, arms himself with a tire iron. It's the best he can do. He's not Aziraphale; he wasn't made to wield a flaming sword.

The show, IMO, improves on this considerably. Now he, like Aziraphale, gets to face annihilation with what he was made for in his hand. And it's not a weapon, not even an improvised one like the tire iron.

He made stars with it.

[both gifs by @fuckyeahgoodomens]

If you Google 'crank handle,' you'll get variations on this:

Crank handles have been around for centuries. Consisting of a mechanical arm that's connected to a perpendicular rotating shaft, they are designed to convert circular motion into rotary or reciprocating motion.

Which is to say they're one of the 'simple machines,' like a lever or a pulley; the bread and butter of engineering. You'll also get a list of uses for a crank handle, archaic and modern. Among them: cranking up the engine of an old-fashioned car... say, a 1933 Bentley. That's what Crowley has been using his for, lately. But he's had it since he was an angel and he's still, it seems, very capable of it's angelic applications.

Stopping time. For instance.

(This is conjecture on my part, but, I like to imagine that Crowley has the ability to stop time for the same reason I can --and should-- unplug my computer before I perform maintenance on it. Time and Space are a matched set, after all, and in his designs in particular, one feeds into the other.)

I know everyone has already said this, but: I REALLY LIKE that when he needs to channel the heights of his power, he does so not with a weapon but with a tool. Practically with a little handheld metaphor for ingenuity. One from long-lost days when he made beautiful things.

(And he loved it. Still loves it --he incorporated that metaphor into the Bentley, didn't he?)

Let Aziraphale rock up to the apocalypse with a weapon: he has his own compelling thematic reasons to do exactly that. Crowley's story is different, and fighting isn't the only way to express defiance. And if you've been condemned as a demon and assumed to be destructive by your very nature, what better way than this?

He made stars. They didn't manage to take that from him.

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale are fighters, really --they have no intention of fighting in any war. They'll annoy everyone until there's no war to fight in, for a start. But between the two, if one must be, then that one is Aziraphale. Principality of the Earth, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Wielder of the Flaming Sword... all that stuff. Even if he'd prefer not to, it's very clear that Aziraphale can rise to the occasion, if he must.

Crowley was never that kind of angel. He wasn't a Principality. He doesn't have a sword.

...And yet.

It's Crowley who protects. He's the one who paces, who stands guard, who circles Aziraphale and glares out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near.

In light of everything else I've said here, I think that's interesting.

Obviously part of it is that Aziraphale enjoys it and, you know, good for him. He's living his best life, no doubt no doubt no doubt. But what about Crowley? What's driving that behavior, really?

Have you heard the phrase, 'loved to the point of invention'? Well, what if 'the point of invention' was where you started? What if where you end up involves glaring out at the world, just daring anyone else to come near? What is that, in relation to the bright-eyed thing you used to be?

What do we name the point to which Crowley loves Aziraphale?

...Thinking about how an excitable angel with three million pages of star design he wants to tell you all about...becomes a guard dog. Is all.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #Crowley #Aziraphale #good omens 2 #good omens meta #unfortunately I do not have trains of thought #only long meandering strolls of thought #sorry about it #anyway tl;dr Crowley is a nerd #also I have a strange emotional attachment to the idea of 1500's Crowley...#...facedown in a pile of Mona Lisa sketches; drunkenly info-dumping about Aziraphale #and Da Vinci is just like. 'Ahhhh mio amico Antonio. You fucking simp.'

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soarrenbluejay · 2 months

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Since I’ve been encouraged to actually share my funny little blorbo ideas here’s another one gang;

Danny moves to Gotham on scholarship for engineering, because the Fentons may be infamous but they’re also insanely brilliant and besides both he and Jazz are showing every sign of embarrassed child of a super genius syndrome, so while the bats are keeping a close eye on him Just In Case, duke is also thinking of introducing him to the Our Parents Are Maniacs But Anyway club maybe after the first month or so.

Gotham does not go for standard dorm living bc of his ‘condition’ and lack of wanting to constantly spook/gaslight a roommate. Besides, living with two small children is a dorm sounds like a disaster in action.

So Danny signs up as a mechanic in Crime Alley, buys himself a teeny weensy lil apartment and Makes It Work. He has been all year after showing up with a de aged Dani and Dan in Amnity after all, and that had gone,,, fine? (The entire town, observing how Danny had been getting increasingly more uncomfortable around his godfather prior to the cloning incident, then just dropped off the face of the earth for several months, the first two weeks stuck in Vlad’s basement enduring horrors and the next Too Many desperately fapping around in the Ghost Zone to get everything handled. All the clones live, all 13 of them. Bunch of them are stuck in the Ghost Zone due to constant need for ectoplasm, but eh, plenty of Zone born never leave, so. One, in the future, apprentices under a green warrior lady on Pandora’s suggestion, another is working in the Eternal Library with Ghost Writer, etc etc. so Danny eventually came back to Amnity with one small child under each arm very obviously traumatized by Somethingn with vlad and doesn’t like being alone with him,,, or touched without warning,, and immediately and passionately proclaims the kids his but struggles to explain how or why,, look some very reasonable assumptions are drawn okay. So the town does the very reasonable thing and does the midwestern equivilant of excommunicating Vlad, except it’s a lot more run him out with pitchforks vibes since he’s the Mayor. Anyway)

He is immediately loved, because while non Gothamites are usually more of a pain than they’re worth, everyone in a while someone even from out of town will just fit in so nicely it’s uncanny for everyone involved. Addams family vibes, it’s referred to as ‘making it home’, just personal hc. He is protective of all the kids playing in the parks and street girls that can totally take care of themselves on their corners but find it HILARIOUS when he just tackles a dick like a wild animal full force no warning. He can fix anything it seems, but refuses to work with weapons. Reasonable enough, people get twitchy about gangs sometimes. Danny mentions being not against Hood or anything, but he’s not going to work for him, littles to take care of and all, but had past experience with ‘Dora and that inheritance mess with her brother he was being a real prick about’ so everyone assumes it’s the equivilant of him having Done His Time and being plenty good for a life time and respects it as long as none of that petty midwestern small town hotshots bring any of that shit over here. And they don’t, because said individuals are on the other side of the mortal veil, so happy day.

See I really love deaged!Dan because he’s just a grumpy lil guy. But he’s also killed millions. He’s so protective of his loved ones, but held back by blending in and also being Smol that it comes off more bitey kitten than anything else. Dani, of course, is a terror, so she fits right in with the crowd.

And sorry gang, but a bunch of kids on their own in Gotham in a poor side of the city just isn’t going to get any attention: that’s just business as usual really. What first gets attention on Danny is not his ‘condition’ or being mistaken for a meta (which he legally probs has an argument for even without the gene bc like these bitches don’t know how metaism works anyway so) or alien (I’m 90% sure he’d be covered by the alien protection act by virtue of being half ‘not from earth’), but because Danny despite best efforts is a Weird Guy.

He grew up in what could only be described as a low level villain level and spent most of high school dealing with smack downs and spiritual invasion. He’s never really processed that any of that is not in fact Normal. Also, he’s capable of making Anything if given the insides of a toaster, blender and alarm clock, and could probably rewrite the circuits of the apartment blindfolded and improve them 1000% even if it ABSOLUTELY would not be up to code.

And sure, things slip every once in a while, bits of spectral ice here, small floating incident there, but everyone just Minds Their Buisness ya know? You really gunna mess with the guy that personally ensured that when your car got flattened by a fight with Killer Croc, you were still able to get in to work the next day by some wizardry? Really?

But Gotham is a city so cursed it’s probably in the exponents countwise, so of course there is a) a flourishing community of magic users and assorted supernatural weirdos and b) a whole lot of shit for Mega Overpowered Ghost King Danny to idly pick at day to day in order to help with his protecting other Obsession. Gotham has plenty of heroes, but by god do they need the spiritual equivilant of an electrician/priest.

Still, Danny, as a baby ancient under a facet of Kronos and KING OF THE DEAD is like, way, way out of their scope to be able to grok, so it mostly just comes off as you know, a family of banshees or something. When asked, Danny very haltingly says he was briefly dead but then revived, which neatly explains his Weird Ass aura and makes it SPECTACULARLY AWKWARD to ask further about. So everyone nods politely, and goes back to their lives after double checking no nefarious bullshit was being pulled.

Then, of course, Vlad finally tracks them down. The whole neighborhood is altered in short order because he doesn’t bother trying to hide being a Rich Bitch or how he’s sneering down his nose at people on the sidewalk. Every connects the dots when Danny paniks. Dani and Dan’s daycare are staffed with some extra, very buff set of hands within the hour. Jerry, Hood’s third in command, personally shows up to the garage Danny is working at to talk things out with him bc he knows he does t like the deal with this stuff due to past unspecified circumstances but well, they guys had already started fucking with him, you see. Stole his tires, spray painted the windows, pickpocketed him blind, and when he retreated tipped off the police to the drugs they’d planted in the glove box.

Danny might not have been born in Gotham, but he was one of them. And the Alley takes care of it own.

#basically I want a fic where it’s not the Batfam but Gotham itself latching onto Danny #also more angy lil baby man Dan in big puffy coats being protective #dp x dc #dc x dp #gotham

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mortalityplays · 1 month

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You need more free art.

I quit my job yesterday. Well, actually I quit my job eight weeks ago, but they finally released me yesterday for good behaviour. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do - but I do it for the wrong reasons. Working for major charities, you learn very fast that 'I want to make the world a better place' is a phrase you use to ask people for money, not to give them things. I was an ass-backwards fit for that world.

You need more free art. I need more free art. Everyone has felt the shift in our media landscape over the last ten years, away from access and towards nickel-and-diming the human experience. That lack of access is making life and culture worse for all of us, across the board. Paywalled news sites leave us less informed, attacks on the Internet Archive leave us less capable of research. Algorithmic social feeds and streaming walled gardens trap us inside smaller and smaller demographic bubbles, where we are increasingly only likely to encounter ideas that have been curated for us by marketing departments. Hasty efforts to resist AI commodification have only led to more artists locking their work away and calling for even more onerous systems of copyright law. This is not good for us.

We all need more free art.

So what am I going to do about it?

This is a question I have been asking myself for years. It's easy to sit here feeilng frustrated and thinking 'boy I hope SOMEONE does SOMETHING'. It's harder to take action in a world where I still have rent to pay. But hard doesn't mean impossible. Sometimes hard just means time-consuming, frustrating and slow. And sometimes it's worth doing something time-consuming, frustrating and slow because...I want to make the world a better place.

I'm going to do this:

1. From April 1st, I am relaunching as a freelance writer and editor.

This is the one that will (hopefully) help to pay the bills. I am a very good and experienced editor. I've worked on hollywood movies, I'm a member of the Chartered Institute of Editors and Proofreaders, I have clients who have been coming to me exclusively for more than 10 years.

Alongside bigger contract jobs, I am going to refocus on offering my services to small-press creators at a reduced rate. That means you, graphic novelists. That means you, itch and amazon writers. I want to help you develop your work, the same way I help large organisations. You can learn more about what an editor even does and what kind of pricing you can expect here.

2. I'm also going to start giving shit away. Like, constantly.

Next week I'm going to launch a new free shop. If you're unfamiliar, a free shop, giveaway shop, swap shop, etc. is an anarchist tradition of setting up a storefront where anyone can take what they like for no cost. Offline, this often means second-hand clothes, tools, furniture, food etc. Online, I am going to be giving away digital art. Copyright-free, no strings attached. It will (eventually) feature everything from print-res posters to zines, poems, tattoo flash, t-shirt designs and anything else we come up with.

Yes, I said 'we' - while this is a curated collection, it will feature work from a variety of credited and anonymous artists and activists, all of whom have agreed to give their work away to the public domain. Some of it will be practical, some of it will be political, but a lot of it will be decorative or personal. This is, in part, a response to recent difficulty I had finding somewhere that would print a one-off joke poster for a friend that featured the word 'faggot'. Enough. No middlemen - no explaining ourselves. Just print our shit and enjoy it.

I'm very, very excited about this project. I'll have more to say about it closer to the launch, but you can expect it to go live on March 27th.

2.2 I forgot to mention the ACTUAL LAUNCH GIVEAWAY

To celebrate my launch, I am going to be giving away a ton of physical prints. When I went looking for my old stock to see if it was worth setting a new (paid) storefront up, I realised I had way more old work in storage than I thought. This will be announced in its own right on Monday, but this is why I've been hinting you should go follow my Patreon.

On April 1st, I will pick 8 random patrons (from across all tiers including non-paying followers!) and mail them a bundle of assorted prints and postcards. The prize pool includes A3 and A4 posters, packs of A6 postcards, and printed minicomics that I've previously sold for up to £12 each.

You don't have to be a paying subscriber to enter - this is strictly no-purchase necessary. It is purely and entirely a celebration of the concept of GIVING ART AWAY FOR FREE.

3. PORN, YOU PERVERTS

Because I still have to pay to stay alive, I am going to be subsidising all this free art with the introduction of Fuck You Fridays. Starting from March 29th, I will drop a new 18+ short story on the last Friday of every month, over on itch.io (yes I know my page is desolate right now, don't worry I'll get there).

The first edition, Go Fuck Yourself, is about, well - telling your boss where to stick it. Julia has had it with her millionaire man-child manager, and is just about ready to let him know what she really thinks. It's a short and steamy 5k words, with a gorgeous cover illustration by @taylor-titmouse, and you can pick it up for $3 starting from March 29th.

4. ANOTHER BIG SURPRISE

I'm keeping this one under wraps for now, but April 1st will also play host to one more (FREE) launch. If you've been following me for a long time, you might remember the other significance of this date (no not April Fool's day, though that is certainly thematically relevant to this entire effort). That's all I'll say right now. Watch this space.

tl;dr: I'm sick of paywalls and career ladders. I'm literally putting my money where my mouth is. More free art for everyone and I'm not kidding around!!!

#announcement #please reblog let's make this HAPPEN

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thesoundofmadness · 1 year

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im so fucking tired of cis people and their fake supportiveness

#the docs #just. fuck.#you say you love me but refuse to do the VERY SIMPLE TASK of using the right name for me.#you say you support me but OUT ME TO PEOPLE IM NOT OUT TO ***WITHOUT ME BEING THERE***#you say you know what i want but because I don't look like one you cant acknowledge me as a man #im so fucking tired. im in so much pain over my body that i can't do anything about.#i can't transition i can't get hrt i can't get top surgery i can't get bottom surgery i literally cannot afford to and people like you are #making it increasingly more dangerous to do so #'i get it i really do' no you fucking don't. you don't and you literally cannot understand how much pain i am in and how fucking angry i am #i hate you i hate you all #'it takes some time to get used to' it took me trying to fucking kill myself before anyone used the right name for me.#'for religious reasons i can't-' I DONT FUCKING CARE ABOUT YOUR GODDAMN RELIGION IT'S MADE UP BULLSHIT USED TO JUSTIFY ALL SORTS OF BAD SHI #but nooooo i can't possibly be mad over it. im not an adult yet. they're from a different time.#when i ask to do a very simple task suddenly im the fucking bad guy but when it comes to marriages you can support a name change.#im done im so fucking done.#do you have any idea the shit i would do to my body if any of you fucks werent around.#you will never understand how much pain i am in #you will never understand how fucking angry i am.

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inkskinned · 1 month

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my father told me he read it, but he hasn't read it. that's okay. my friends keep picking the words out of my throat.

someone once told me that the more trigger warnings that go on a book, the better it is. i didn't mean to write something with so many conditional phrases - i was writing about what i felt while being a human. sometimes you are a person and sometimes you are a statistic. sometimes it is falling upwards and sometimes it's sliding back down again.

my father tells me that it will be difficult to get people to read it. i didn't like the idea of a singular genre. i'm not going to lie to you - it is actually a difficult book to get through. i change the rules in it. it's not poetry or prose explicitly. it's neither false nor reality. i give you the tools to "solve" the book, but i let you do the thinking. my father says people don't care to think. i don't know about that - i think we just, like, enjoy reading.

the thing is - i was tired of stories about survival where someone with depression goes to therapy and wakes up okay. i didn't live like that. i was tired of books about violence, where the gore of what i experience was splashed in glitter to lick off the page. like, i was a person, you know? i had a life and a job and a family. and in books, i watched my story get ripped up so people could explore the viscera of my body. so they could feel good. my brother once called it inspiration pornography. we had walked out of a suicide-prevention seminar, both of us disgusted while the increasingly-elated presenter kept listing methods-of. i remember the look on my brother's face. like i would tear that man apart given the right time and place.

my father says that kids these days. he warns me against writing about things that are too-serious. he says that they don't want it. i don't listen. he does make me take out a scene from the book where i go to church after having sex with a woman. it used to be the 7th scene in the book. i don't think he's read further than that, it rocked him too hard to continue.

it's a book about being queer. it's a book about being raised catholic. it doesn't have monsterfucking, i'm sorry. it's just about, like.

at some point you have to choose to stay here. and then you do have to stay here, which takes practice. this is about forming the habit. this is about what happens after you've already started doing the work. because, like. you keep going. you have to. and it's like. very imperfect.

i should make a post on instagram. i should make this announcement less bittersweet. but like -- i'm giving it you, specifically, because i think you know why i had to write it. you and me. this little community.

body's a bad monster. here's the link if you're interested in ordering.

#i will never shut up about this #by the way . this is the book that u are trying to get me to eat #also available on other links!! barnes and noble and s&S #also btw i drew the cover :) they asked me to lol #btw this isn't self-published. this is like. book deal thru simon and schuster

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eddiernunson · 2 months

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Waiting Room Problems | Eddie Munson x fem!Reader | 18+ |

Summary: a rough landing in a fight with your brother causes you to land in a crowded waiting room. Meanwhile a rough deal also sends Eddie the same fate. Somehow, somehow you try to keep your eyes on your phone and off his tiny little waist. It proves... difficult.

Warnings: strangers to lovers, fleeting glances, slightly cocky Eddie, sex in a public bathroom (trust me on this, just trust me), and general horniness at Eddie's general appearance, unprotected piv, against the wall fucking, deep throating, daddy kink

Authors note: I just spent 8 hours last night (when | wrote this) in the fucking waiting room. At two hours in a guy came in and he radiated Eddie's energy so my mind ran away with it. (Everything is ok).

Thanks for the hype on the preview! Hopefully this lives up to the hype

Thanks so much to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing bestie ❤️

As the night swallows you whole, you sit in your mom’s passenger seat of her car as she drives you to the ER. While roughhousing with your older brother you landed on your hand wrong and bent it way back. It’s definitely not broken, but it for sure needs to be looked at.

As the lights of the night pass you by, you insist you’re fine and the sprain will heal after a few days. Your mom, however, was having none of it as you rolled your eyes in exasperation.

She’s as stubborn as you are, so you sit arms crossed as you know you have no choice. Ouch, ok, crossing your arms was a bad idea.

She wishes you well, her kind eyes wide as she leans over to ask you to keep her updated. You can’t help it, slamming the door after letting her know you will. You should’ve been enjoying some spiked eggnog and watching holiday movies, but now you’re spending Christmas Eve in the ER.

The large window to the waiting room lets you know there’s already a long line up just waiting for the triage and most seats are taken. Fuck, you’re in for a long night.

The kind and sunny nurse takes your vitals and information, gently assessing your symptoms and palpating your wrist carefully. She lets you know it’s definitely sprained and will need a gauze wrap.

Soon, you find yourself sitting in a brown, cracked, leather chair sitting close to a man who is coughing up a lung and groaning in pain after each bout. Not that there are many options to begin with.

Your phone in your hand and your charger in your bag, you sit comfortably and wait for your name to get called as you look at memes and watch videos with one headphone in.

Ninety minutes goes by while your best friend texts you to keep you busy and entertained, not even noticing you’ve been waiting for so long. Thank god for her.

For the first time in a while, you look up to assess the state of the waiting room. As far as you recall, about five people have been called to the back. Those seats have been replaced with new patients and their support, what seems to be a never-ending cycle.

Your eyes flick to someone who walks into the line that is long enough to extend into the hallway, stepping up a place in line and finally into the actual waiting room. Your eyes scan him, the boots, the ripped jeans, the leather jacket covering a graphic tee, all leading up to his shaggy brown hair and gorgeous face.

Your mouth partially opens, momentarily taken aback by how unbelievably hot he is. There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong, at least, until you notice the tear in his shirt peeking at white gauze on his torso. From the stain, it’s clear he was injured.

His face doesn’t reflect such, patiently waiting as the two triage nurses take their time. By the third time he blinks, you realize you’ve been staring and shift your eyes back down to your phone.

As the line moves, his boots in the corner of your eye, you grow increasingly aware of how much you want to continue staring at him. Something about him is just so enticing, drawing you in. Especially his lack of response to a wound as such.

Time passes on and soon you find yourself bored of the videos and turn on your Spotify to the comfort playlist. Your eyes flicker to the triage station, wandering around the room aimlessly. Unfortunately, it lands on the stranger you’ve been lingering on and witnesses him lifting his shirt to show the nurse the reason for his visit.

The black shirt lifts to show a slim waist scattered in black and grey tattoos, lifting the white gauze to reveal a gnarly wound. You can’t tell but from its shape it looks to be a stab wound. However gory his uncovered wound looks; you can’t help but stare at his bare torso.

Then, it fucking happens. His eyes flicker to you, for a fraction of second, he keeps the eye contact. His mouth twitches, leaning into something you’d call a smirk. As a reflex you shift your eyes away from him, cheeks heating up in embarrassment from getting caught.

You spend the next few minutes convincing yourself that it was all in your head, and that for all he knew you were zoned out and happened to be zoned out on him. It feels like a reach, especially with his torso as revealed as it was.

Time itself blurs as you zone out on your phone, attempting to distract yourself from your thumping heart and the arousal that pools into your cotton underwear. A shift in movement catches your eye, blurred and black in your periphery.

Your eyes by reflex glance up, catching a glimpse of him slouching in his chair, a foot resting on the other as knee he uses wired headphones and stares at whatever’s on his phone. Somehow, his confidence at making himself at home is still attractive, drool gathering in your mouth.

You look down at your phone before he catches you again, this visit at the ER sending a thrill through you that you didn’t expect in the least.

More and more people get called to the back, and you're still stuck waiting. Everyone who you’ve told is surprised to say the least that it’s been hours and you’re still just in the waiting room. You don’t mind though, sneaking glances at the beautiful stranger has become your favourite pastime.

Four hours in, if someone asked your highlight it would be when he head-banged to whatever assumingly heavy metal band he listens to. By the time the nurse calls your name to the back, it takes a strong second place.

About twenty minutes pass before it’s your turn for a bed, and you are let your eyes wander around, now bored of your phone. As they do, they catch sight of the man you’ve kept an eye on yawning in a big stretch. What this yawn has you so captivated by is the sliver of skin his stretch reveals, and the curly brown treasure trail that peeks from just above the hem of his low sitting jeans.

Your mouth floods with saliva. With your mouth agape and eyes subtly widened, you can’t help but gawk at him. Something about the way you suddenly picture yourself pulling him into the bathroom to nuzzle into his hair takes you aback just a little bit.

Time slows down for you, stretching into hours, but it's only seconds. Finally, as his body relaxes from the stretch you turn your eyes back to his face, hoping he didn’t see your fleeting glance. Startlingly, his eyes are already on yours. This time you can’t find it in you to look away in embarrassment. As if reading your mind, he smirks right at you, and you swear his brown eyes darken a shade.

This time for sure, he caught you. He doesn’t seem to care one way or the other, arms crossing over his chest as he keeps his smug expression right on you.

It’s hard to resist the smile as you go back to your phone, promising to yourself that you will remember his face for as long as you can.

Eddie thanks Gareth for dropping him off at the hospital, gritting his teeth at the slight pain stretching his torso gives him.

As he wanders into the hospital, his eyes take in the crowded waiting room and he groans, wishing the wound wasn’t so fucking deep.

He got stabbed. He got fucking stabbed. Wayne is going to kill him when he finds out he got into a fight, especially one where knives were in the crossfire. He couldn’t even say how the situation got so heated so quickly, just another fight in a parking lot after a deal goes sour.

The guy pulled a fucking knife on him, pushed it into his torso and ran off with the goods before Eddie could even realize he had been harmed.

All for fucking weed. Wasn’t even cocaine!

It takes a stupid amount of time for him to finally get to the nurse. She tells him to sit down for his vitals, and he refuses, wanting to show the wound and get it out of the way.

He lifts his shirt at her request, showing the darkened gauze and hissing as she takes a closer look at the wound when it’s removed. Eddie realizes the irony of exposing his chest in the triage, looking up to face the windows that allow other patients to see through.

He does a quick scan of the room, no one having seemed to notice how he’s shirtless. No one, but you. He saw you when he walked in, you were on your phone with one earbud in as you tapped your feet to whatever beat you were listening to. He thought you were cute, his mouth twitching in a smile as he notices you’re cradling one arm across your chest.

It couldn’t have been confused with zoning out, your mouth in a small O shape you openly stare at him. The look you have on your face is enough to turn Eddie on a little, having the urge to caress your face as you look up at him with those same wide eyes. His mouth twitches as he thinks of it, the thought enough to distract him from the shooting pain in his chest.

Your eyes dart away as soon as it registers that he’s looking back at you. His smile widens even more as you sink in your seat, your eyes glazing over as you scroll through your phone. Made him want to embarrass you more, in much worse ways.

After the nurse takes his vitals, he’s instructed to sit down, thanking some deity that the seat across from you is freed. You’re keeping yourself distracted, much to his dismay, so kicks his shoe to grab your attention, placing it on his other knee.

It works as well as he hopes, your eyes flickering up to him. He can’t help but look as if he can’t be bothered. In the corner of his eye, you look back to your own phone, biting your lip.

Eddie spends the next little bit getting your attention however he can, wondering how much it takes for your eyes to wander back to him. By trial and error, not much. He turns on a heavy metal band, nodding his head enthusiastically to the loud drum beats.

As time goes on, he gets more bored and waits impatiently for his name to be called. He figured stitches would be a priority, no? It’s past his bedtime, he decides, as he yawns a big stretch, despite the pain he causes for himself.

As he does, he catches the way your eyes are glued to him, particularly the strip of skin his shirt lifts to show. In real time, Eddie witnesses your eyes glaze over and how your teeth nervously graze your bottom lip. Whatever was on your mind, he desperately wanted to know, mesmerized at the way your throat swallows.

Finally, you make eye contact with him, and Eddie needs to let you know how much he just saw, your lust for him clear as day. He can’t lie, the feeling is entirely mutual, the look on your face is something he wants to see over and over as he rails— he’s getting ahead of himself.

Instead, he opts for a smirk, admiring the way your pretty eyes hold his gaze this time. He relaxes back into his chair, daring you to say something as he smiles with a hint of satisfaction…and all the cockiness his body can handle.

You shyly look back at your phone, failing to hide the smile that invades your face. It takes Eddie a moment to gain the courage, but he finally decides he can’t let you go if he's nursing a hard on in the fucking waiting room from your gaze alone.

By the time he finds a pen and paper to give your number, he’s writing it down when the nurse calls your name.

Eddie sighs, watching your ass in those jeans as you walk away. Just his luck.

As the new year passes, the memory of the hot stranger in the waiting room fades, much to your dismay.

The very night you had a dream where he meets you in some sort of dark room, tugging down your jeans you were wearing and wrapping those hands around your neck as he fucked you from behind.

Your hyperventilating mixed with the way your cunt spasmed as you came woke you up, taking a minute to catch your breath. That morning you groaned in frustration, wanting nothing more but to track him down.

Days passed and soon you’re in the grocery store, arm still wrapped for another week as you walk around the store for some basics. Milk, eggs, bread, all on your mother’s tab, of course. You were two seconds away from pushing your small cart to the checkout counter when you remember you're out of mouthwash.

As you try to decide whether to grab the one you liked which was not on sale or the one that was, a set of footsteps pass and settle right next to you, the customer also assessing mouth hygiene products.

The person's foot tapped, and by reflex you switch your glance down to the sound, and immediately recognize the boots. Your head moves up so fast you swear you give yourself whiplash to his face, facing the shaggy locks you found yourself obsessed with that night in the ER.

“Oh shit” you say out loud, before you could even stop it.

His eyes flicker to yours and recognize you off the bat. His smile gives way to deep dimples. He’s exactly as hot as you remember, if not more.

Of course, you can’t find it in yourself to assume he recognizes you, even if his eyes spell it out for you. “Sorry, I-I just remember you from the ER last month. How’s that stab wound?”

He chuckles, something that makes your legs clench together. “Uh, it’s better.” He comments, lifting his shirt to demonstrate. Is it unnecessary for Eddie to show his stitches? Absolutely. Did he do it for the visual reaction he missed so much? Also, yes.

Unfortunately, his bare waist is gone as soon as it appears, barely giving you a second to take in the purple stitches. You bite your lip as you glance at his face, his smirk displayed almost driving a whimper out of you.

“How’s your arm?”

“What?” You ask, incredibly distracted by the everything about him.

He chuckles pointing to the wrapped arm you can’t use as you shopped but to push the cart. “Oh, one more week then I’m free.” You comment, indicating the gauze.

“That’s good.” He comments, switching his glance back to the toothbrushes he was glancing at earlier.

How are you already messing this up? Might as well cut your losses. “Alright, nice seeing you, again.”

“Whoa, whoa.” He says, grabbing at your uninjured arm before you make your hasty exit. Your eyes peer at him curiously, wondering what he could’ve possibly wanted. “Here,”

His hands move to the leather jacket and grab a folded piece of paper to hand out to you. “What’s that?”

“My number” he answers, stating the obvious. “Shoot me a text, call me, I don’t care. Just do it. Please.”

“You’re really giving your number on a piece of paper?” You ask, tilting your head and forgetting your nervousness for two seconds. “What is this, 1986?”

He laughs, deep and whole, and for some reason it causes a heart palpitation. “Yeah, I guess I am. I planned on giving it to you at the ER, but the nurse whisked you away before I could.”

“Huh?” You ask, your brain short circuiting.

He laughs again as you accept the number, your hands holding onto it tightly as if it might disappear. He picks a toothbrush, seemingly at random and examines it, shrugging as he tosses it into his basket. “Call me,” he says, winking, and walks away from where he came from.

As he walks away, his cologne invades your senses, breath stuttering as you breathe him in. Oh, you are definitely calling him.

As soon as you’re checked out, you find yourself having to use the bathroom, so you wander to the back of the store and down the hall where the single unisex bathroom is.

It’s locked, so you check your phone as you wait, leg shaking to distract yourself from the need. When the bathroom door opens, you look up to face the patron and your brain deflates.

“Holy shit.” You gasp, facing the kind stranger, whose name you learned is Eddie from the number he gave you. You stare at one another, taking each other in, your breath heavy and your heartbeat in your ears. Why were you here, again?

Instantaneously, his hands are grabbing at the fabric of your winter jacket, tugging you forward as he places his lips on yours. Your bags drop from your hands as you gasp in surprise, your brain taking a moment to catch up.

As soon as it does, you grab onto his jacket and kiss him back, meeting his enthusiasm feverishly. His tongue darts out to meet yours, you accept it wholeheartedly, taking in how weak his lips alone make you feel.

Eddie starts to pull you backwards and into the bathroom. As soon as the door is closed, you’re pushed up against the wall, whimpering as he moves his body against you. “Fuck.” He whispers against your lips, taking a moment to catch his breath.

You hum in response, lips reaching for him again. As you do, your hands sneak past his jacket and onto his t-shirt, clutching at the fabric as you finally feel up his torso.

“Nuh uh.” He tsks, pulling back from you. When you pout, he laughs and gives you a look of pity. “I just gotta know one thing, there, sweetheart.”

“Anything.” You promise, not knowing what you’re getting into. You just wanted his lips back on yours.

“Anything, huh?” He asks, slightly taunting you. “Okay.” He leans down, breathing down your neck as he places his lips by your ear. “What were you thinking about in that waiting room while you ogled me, sweetheart?”

Okay, not that. You sigh in embarrassment, learning he knew exactly what you were thinking while you gawked at his chest, gawked at him.

“Don’t act all embarrassed, now.” He chides, observing how your eyes widen just how he remembered. “Tell me. Tell me and we’ll do every raunchy little thing that pretty brain came up with.” He taps the tip of your nose gently with the pad of his finger. You wish he'd shove it past your lips.

Your eyes widen as the arousal floods the panties you wear. All you can do is breathe hard and attempt to find the words.

“Let me help you.” He says, shifting his weight against you slightly. “Was it my hands down those tight ass jeans you were wearing?” You gasp as his fingers barely graze your jeans’ waistband. “Or even better was my tongue on that wet cunt of yours?” You shake your head no, as much as you wanted both of those things. You didn’t even get that far. “Were you on your pretty knees?” Finally, you nod, confirming exactly what you were thinking about.

“Your cock was down my throat while I nuzzled your…” you trail off, lifting his shirt to see the patch of hair again, “oh my god.”

He chuckles, rewarding you with a wet and dirty kiss. All too soon, he pulls away. “Then what, baby?”

Your mind is dumb, trying to come up with it. “Then…then you bent me over and fucked me—” you whine as his knee bucks up between your legs and makes harsh contact with your cunt, “with your hand around my throat.”

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, teeth gritted as he gives you a look at screams with lust. “Believe me, if you asked, I would’ve.”

“Yeah?” You ask, licking your lips as your head leans back into the door. “What about your cut?”

“To hell with my cut! I had a pretty girl practically giving me the eyes, you think I care about some little scratch?”

You stare at him in disbelief, your body and breaths stilling for a minute. “Then do it.”

Eddie smirks at you, and you stare at his pretty pink lips as he leans in and kisses you, both impossibly dirty and sweet simultaneously. Eddie’s knee contacts your cunt again, this time forcing a moan out your lips. Blindly you move your hand down his chest, finally gripping the hard-on straining against the fabric of his jeans.

He gives you his first moan, a sound that opens the floodgates. “Wanna get on those knees for me, baby?”

You nod, giving one last kiss to the spot where his jaw meets his neck. Slowly, you kiss your way down his body where finally you find yourself face to face with the cock that’s pushing its way out of his pants. You fumble with the button for a second before you finally reveal him, and it’s so much better than you could’ve imagined.

So much bigger, too.

You smile up at him through your eyelashes, grateful for fates allowing you in the same place at the same time. He places his hand under your chin, licking his lips as he examines your expression of desire. “Suck my cock, baby.”

You eye his treasure trail, dipping your nose into it as you inhale his musk, uninjured hand wrapping around his thick girth. You mewl at the scent; the aroma is even better than you had imagined. One of his large hands slides itself gently along your cheek, his long thumb stroking at the apple of your sweet smile. You stare up at him, kissing the underside of the head of his cock with wet lips. Your tongue pokes out, flat as you lick it slowly, taking your sweet time, admiring the way he lets out whimpers.

“Oh…shit.”

This urges you to wrap your lips around the head, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck on it gently. You take your lips off him, spitting the excess saliva in your mouth onto his shaft, your hand slowly moves up and down, jerking his length to spread the slick along his cock. The shine is pretty, the spit accentuating the pink blush.

“Pretty cock,” you compliment him, laughing breathily as you go cross-eyed just staring at it. “Tastes better than I thought it would.”

“Did you think about tasting my cock, sweet girl?”

You wrap your lips around him again, bobbing your head up and down as you confirm what he asked with a simple hum. He’s big, the tip hitting the back of your mouth and that wasn’t even half of it. You choke on him, the guttural sounds echoing loudly against the tiled walls. A want of more of him in your mouth invades your mind, not tasting nearly enough of him.

You attempt to take in more of him, choking on it even more but struggling to, despite the desperate need. “Settle down, sweet girl,” he mutters, harshly brushing his fingers against your cheek as he peers down at you. “Relax your throat. Take all those tense muscles and relax ‘em.” You think about it, letting those reflexes remain tense to rest. You’re holding back more saliva, but you fail to realize it until your mouth is flooded with spit, overflowing past the barrier of your lips. “Oh, good girl.”

It's alien but mind numbingly arousing as you feel him move down your throat, moaning around him. His fingers comb through your hair, and roughly move against your scalp. “That’s it, breathe through your nose, sweets.”

The heel of his palms rest on your forehead, moving you up and down his cock. You find it stupidly easy to submit to him, the tip hitting roughly against the back of your throat. His groans are louder than the guck, guck, guck that are hitting wall to wall against the tiles. He’s brutal about it, increasing his speed from 0 to 100 quick as a thought.

Hot tears spill over your water line down your cheeks, trailing the makeup you wear down to your throat. Your hands weave themselves against the cotton of his t-shirt, fighting to keep letting him fuck your throat. “You’re so damn good at this, sweetheart, pretty little mouth working so well.”

He finally lets go, poking his cock against the inside of your cheek one last time, appreciating the swell as the glistening from your tears shine on your face. He uses his thumb to lift your chin up to him, his darkened eyes raking over your face. His pink lips parted, his dilated pupils, the heaving of his chest, there’s nothing you’d want more than to earn this gaze again. “C’mere.”

He lifts you by your chin up to kiss you, dirtily lacing his tongue against yours. “What a good girl you are, taking it so well.” A smile lights up your face from his praise. He tugs you back in for another one, a hum vibrating against his lips. A hand of his trails down your body, single handedly unbuttoning your jeans. “Good work like that deserves a reward, hmm?”

His large hand moves past the opened fly and works itself against your panties. A gasp escapes your mouth only at the touch of his fingers on your covered folds, mewling as he keeps his eyes trained on yours. He’s not even really moving them against you, but just his touch gives you some of the pressure you needed. “Christ, you’re wet,” he comments, dipping his head to work his tongue against your pulse. “Choking on my cock really got you off, huh?”

You nod, eagerly agreeing with him. “So big.”

He smirks, pressing pressure on your clothed folds, in small circles. “You like my big cock, huh? Is it as big as you thought it would be?”

“Bigger,” you gasp, hands grabbing on any clothes he wears anxiously.

His finger easily moves the fabric aside, finger attaching itself right to your clit. The pleasure is good, eyes fluttering closed as it grows startlingly fast. “Fuck,” you swear, your voice rough. “Eddie.”

“Hmm, close?” You nod, despite the embarrassment that floods your senses. “I haven’t even started to touch you yet, baby. I still wanted to feel that tight pussy wrapped around my fingers.”

His actions mimic his words, inserting two fingers hastily into you, moving them expertly as they fuck you. With how wet you are, his two digits slide in easily. They’re long, reaching a depth in you that you could only dream about. You gush around him, music to his ears as your whimpers grow more and more pathetic. His thumb touches your clit again, rubbing frantically.

You gasp, mewling as his teeth start to nibble skillfully along the length of your neck. “Oh my god.”

Eddie’s tongue licks a sinfully long stripe up your neck to your ear, his voice intense and husky. “Cum all over my fingers, sweetheart, make a fucking mess for me.” Your hand tangles into his hair, gripping at his root. You stutter through a sentence of whines and half-finished words, failing to convey how good his fucking fingers make you feel. “So pathetic, huh?”

The words that you wanted to say were, you make me feel so good. Instead, you say, “M-ak-m, so-so good.”

Your good arm wraps itself around his shoulders, pulling his body against yours. Against your better judgment, your other hand moves his chin so your lips kiss his desperately, wanting every wet touch of them on yours. Your whimper into his mouth, pussy fluttering around his fingers as you finally cum, drenching his fingers just as he had requested.

“There she is,” he mutters, his flat palm moving under your jacket and shirt and grazing gently along your bare torso.

It takes you a second to recover from it, still feeling the effects of it throughout your body as it lingers. You unzip your jacket, letting it fall on the bathroom floor. You can’t find it in yourself to care for the moment, but it will find itself in the wash later. As it’s a walk-in bathroom, there are poles next and adjacent to the toilet. Perfect.

“Fuck me?” You ask, eyes glazed over as they reach his.

He chuckles, hands landing on your hips. Your jeans are pushed down your legs, resting just below your knees. “I thought you'd never ask, sweets.”

You grin, pushing his jacket off his shoulders onto the floor. Before it even hits the floor, you grab onto the fabric of his shirt and step backward over your own jacket to pull him across the room to the said metal bar installed on the wall.

His fingers slink into his pocket that’s now down his leg, holding a condom between you and him. You pick it up from his fingers and fling it across the room. “I’m on birth control.”

Eddie’s hands grab under your legs when your back hits the wall, supporting you surprisingly well as your ass rests on his forearms.

He sighs, eyes half mooned as he stares down at you. “My arms are occupied, mind helping me out here?”

You giggle, spitting on your hand and grabbing between the two of you at the cock that keeps brushing against your inner thigh, moving it against your entrance. It slides in easily, the mushroom tip pushing in as two of you moan in sync. Your hand moves to the bar on the wall, starting to help him as you lean some of your weight onto it.

“How is your pussy even better than I thought it’d be?” Eddie asks, gasping in uneven breaths.

“So, so full,” you gasp back, his size far bigger than you’ve ever had. “So big.”

“You’re fucking tight, sweets.” He mutters, jaw dropping as he watches you watching him.

“Move.” You urge him, the stretch too much yet his still hips are driving you crazy. “Need you to move,” It comes out as a pathetic whine and you know it, but you’re long past caring at this point.

“Say no more,” Eddie mutters, starting to move slowly, his hips rolling perfectly against you.

He hits deep and he hits hard. “Just like that! Fuck!”

“Your pussy, fuck, baby, yours is just a new fucking standard!”

You curl into his neck, nipping and starting to mark the pale skin with purple, teeth digging in harder the faster and harder he fucks. You can’t answer his compliment, but the way you tighten around him is confirmation enough that you are in complete agreement with him. It’s like he knows exactly how you like it before you tell him, intuitively knowing you before even has the opportunity to find out.

He watches every reaction you give him carefully, how your legs tighten around his waist, your hands twisting themselves in his shirt, the mewls that leave your mouth mixed with words that you never finish, he takes every hint as gospel. He’s always intuitive to what a partner of his needs, but you’re a special case, every reaction you give him only makes him insatiable for more. The way your eyes roll back in your head is everything he’s ever wanted to see from you and more, never could he have imagined anything like this when you glanced at him in the E.R.

“Fuck, your pussy is so good, I’m gonna cum, sweets,” Eddie moans, fingers digging into your bare thigh, the pressure surely bruising the skin.

“Choke me.” You gasp, voice desperate for him.

“Hands are occupied, babe.” He answers, gruff and brows furrowed.

You tap the bar, using both hands now. “I got it.”

He whines, high-pitched and gorgeous. The kind of whine you listen to on men whimpering audios. Maybe you can make it happen more. Maybe one day he’ll let you worship him for a few hours…the idea is enticing. His large hand wraps itself around your throat, the metal of his rings causing harsh friction on your neck. He admires the way you revel in it, tongue poking out of your mouth like the slut you are for him. “You’re more of a slut than I thought you are, hmm?”

You nod, his strong arm flexed and mouth watering. The drool that slips down your tongue is pure proof of it, dampening your shirt in a little streak.

“What a good little pathetic slut,” he grins, rubbing your jawline with his thumb. His grip tightens, only enough to send stars in your vision.

You tap his arm, begging him for air. “A slut for you.” You gasp, whining for him. “Want your cum, please, please cum in me.”

“Can you beg for me one more time?” He asks, your question almost making him erupt on the spot.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, arms starting to lose their strength. “I wanna be dripping from you, so bad.”

“Yeah, want Daddy’s cum?” he asks, hands gripping into your hair.

Of course, this man has a daddy kink, you couldn’t expect anything less from him. “Yes, Daddy.” You whine, grinning at his hold on you. “Fill me up.”

“Baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up—Jesus Christ.” He interrupts himself, cutting himself off as he ruts into you a final, gasping, sweaty time. He twitches in you, feeling him fill you up as some of starts to trickle out of your pussy and down your thigh.

His hand lets go of your hair, wrapping around your torso as he pulls you into an embrace. This is the kind of sex that takes time to recover from, both out of breath, his dick still twitching. A smile takes over your features, invading every muscle in your face.

“So, think you’re gonna call me?” He asks, hand moving itself under your shirt to gently brush against your bare skin.

“I’ll definitely text you.” You answer, chuckling at the annoyed look he shoots you when he pulls back in your embrace. “Oh, come on.”

He chuckles, and for some odd reason the last thing you expect from him is another kiss, his lips working marvelously against yours. They’re much gentler, much sweeter than you expected, yet everything you’d crave from him.

“What was that?” You ask, watching his two gorgeous brown eyes.

“What, you think I’m gonna let you go after that?” He asks, half a smile on his face. “Wanna come to my place later?”

“Later?” You ask, one eyebrow quirked at him.

“I’m heading home right now, wanna join me?” He kisses the top of your eyebrow, your cheekbone, your jawline, your still covered shoulder. “I kind of need to spend a few hours with my nose buried in that pretty little cunt of yours.”

Your jaw drops, your mouth drying completely from his admission. “Y-yeah, th-that sounds nice.”

He laughs at your stutter; your pussy having tightened around him upon the mention of it.

Three knocks hit the door, loud and abrupt. “Hurry the fuck up!”

You look at one another with wide eyes, laughing at the disruption. He backs up, his cock leaving your entrance being a loss you whimper at. “Don’t worry, sweets. I will fuck you more than enough times to satisfy that need.”

“Dunno,” you start, legs shaky as you land on them, “I think I’m pretty insatiable at this point.”

“Then we’ll just have to keep going, won’t we?” Eddie asks, pulling his jeans and boxers up his legs.

“And if I’m never satisfied?” you ask, tilting your head as you pull up your own pants.

“Well then I guess we’ll just never stop.”

You grin at his answer, biting your lip excitedly.

The silence is comfortable as you pick your jackets back up and the bags on the ground. His fingers intertwined with yours, leading you down the hall past the angry customer and out the front door of the store.

He offers to eventually take you back to your car when you need to go back home, wanting more time with you even if it’s the mere ten minutes that it takes to get to his apartment.

Not one moment is wasted as he yanks you to his bedroom, pushing you onto his bed. As promised, your jeans are yanked down your legs quick as can be, burying his nose deep in your cunt.

Only after the eighth orgasm does Eddie yank off your clothes, followed by his, finally skin against skin as he rails you in every position, even the ones you didn’t know were possible.

You might have to thank your brother for spraining your wrist, it’s the best thing he’s ever done for you.

Thanks for reading! I read every comment and tag you leave and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

taglist for Waiting Room Problems: @skrzydlak @delicatechaos @ali-r3n @suckerz @cam-peggio @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @emxxblog @lilrubles @dandelionnfluff @babygirl229 @let-love-bleeds-red @kurdtbean

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut

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headspace-hotel · 1 year

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One of the things that struck me about Robin Wall Kimmerer's perspective when I was reading Braiding Sweetgrass was the way the ethical obligation to life she discussed contrasted with the colonizer's culture.

It is increasingly popular to find it inherently unethical and exploitative to kill animals for food or to farm them for animal products, and instead eat and wear "plant-based" things. This is an impulse toward ethical treatment of non-human living things.

But this way of seeing animals as "lives" and behaving accordingly, depends on seeing plants as non-lives. Asking whether we have ethical obligations toward plants is so absurd, it's dismissed as trolling.

I've known many people who farmed or hunted animals who had a great reverence for their lives. Some people would think that this is not genuine and that it is never morally acceptable to take a life for your own use.

Kimmerer discusses Indigenous use of animals. But when a tree needs to be cut down or a plant uprooted, there is the same vivid awareness that a life is being taken, that the plant's life is A Life.

Now I'm troubled by the dismissal of plants as providing total freedom from guilt and moral responsibility among many people and organizations who see animal life as deeply sacred. Plant based products are cruelty-free alternatives to animal products and plant-based diets mean nothing had to die for your meal.

I understand not wanting to support cruel industries or being uncomfortable with eating animals, but the more I learn about plants, the less I believe that all animals have something all plants lack, that means we have moral obligations toward animals and not toward plants.

Plants are incredibly unlike us, but they respond to their environments, they communicate with other plants, and they engage in behaviors. Objection to potential plant intelligence and sentience (ability to feel) is more cultural than scientific; we are just only beginning to scratch the surface of the inner world of plants. What if we have to respect plants as life? What does respect mean then, if we have to explore the idea that it doesn't necessarily contradict taking life?

#plants #random

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sanakimohara · 3 months

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My friend just introduced me to a new thing

Bully I.N, he’s just super mean to you, pushes you around, pulls your hair, slaps and gropes you. But then when people are around he’s super nice and the compete opposite of what he just did to you.

And he’s only mean to you, no one else. He’d just randomly slap you or when sitting down just puts his hands in your pants, and duh don’t forget the degrading.

I think it plays into people seeing him as innocent and nice when in reality he’s kinky and fucked up

Just an idea for you if you want 🧡🥰

“TEAR YOU APART” Y. J.

You and your friend are masterminds, love. 🖤 Now I want to do a series based on this idea! :) but I’ll settle with writing a snippet prequel for the time being… 🖤

[ MDNI ]

++++++

Bully Jeongin starts his campaign against you with name calling -and not the cliche creative kind that people can laugh at. No, he prefers to label you with his own perversions. Taking every chance he can get to whisper in your ear, “How’s my little bitch doing today, hm?..” “Is my slut sad already?…” “You’re such an attention whore. It’s pathetic..” “Where do you think you’re going dumb bunny…” At first you snap back insults but overtime his consistent belittling makes you less angry and increasingly compliant. You’d never admit to him that your resentment was slowly twisting into a form of pining. Your pride wouldn’t allow it…

Bully Jeongin elevates to blackmailing you when the opportunity arises. Pictures and videos of you changing, texts or risqué pictures between you and your previous crush that he’s miraculously gotten his hands on, and maybe even a voice note of you touching yourself that he coerced you into making as ‘punishment’ for even thinking about another guy. “You wouldn’t want him to find out about all these inappropriate pictures you took for me, right?” He had you cornered, faking concern as he held up his phone for you to see. You face paled as pictures of you undressing showed on the screen. How’d he even get those? Why did he have them? “J-Jeongin I never took those! N-not for you, anyway…and you know that!” You try to defend yourself but panic starts to set in as you consider what Jeongin would do to keep you under his heel. He grins, shutting his phone off before slipping it into his pocket as he leans in closer to you. His eyes bare into yours, swirling with mischief as he taunts you, “Who do you think people will believe? Me? Or some whiny little slut who can’t keep her legs closed?…” Your heart sinks as his threat echoes in your brain. “You wouldn’t…” “Oh, you know I would. Don’t act so surprised dumb bunny…”

Bully Jeongin knows you go to your classes/meetings early, follows you there when he can, and uses every minute alone with you to do his worst. No one thinks to come check on you. No one even considers the notion that you’re being groped and slapped around endlessly -up against a wall, on his lap, or bent over a desk. You try to scream or cry but Jeongin learns how to silence you rather quickly. Sinking his fingers into your mouth works best in his opinion, but he’s a fan of gagging you with your own panties too. Either way you’re left panting and nearly in tears as he takes advantage of you. He’s careful not to slap you hard enough to leave a noticeable mark, all the while cooing vulgar praises in your ear as you whine from the stinging pain that sears your cheek, and inevitably your ass gets the same treatment. “What’d I tell you about wearing anything under your skirt, little slut?” He slaps your backside again, harder than before, and you whine into his hand that’s clasped over your mouth, shivering as he snakes his free hand under your skirt to rip the lace fabric off your lower half. The cold air hitting your dripping cunt makes you groan softly and you pray he doesn’t notice the effect his torture has on you, but Jeongin knows…he’s known for a while. That’s why he has no remorse for what he does to you, feels no sympathy as he tucks your panties into his pocket, and is all smiles when he finally lets you go the moment people gradually start to fill the room.

Bully Jeongin is incredibly sweet to everyone but you. Greeting them with the kindest smile -one you’ve never experienced in earnest. His charm resonates through each interaction he has with the staff and close friends. It amazes you how cruel he can be behind closed doors but deep down you wait for those moments….secretly craving them. In those fleeting pockets of time he’s true to his darkest tendencies, fully himself, and in some sick way you begin to believe he only feels comfortable around you to be just that….his truest self. That’s the cynical logic keeping you from snapping, admitting defeat, and openly confessing your crush on him. He’d probably laugh at your stupidity if you did…

Bully Jeongin claims you’re one of his ‘sweetest’ friends when someone asks about your connection to him. He’ll flash a smile your way, placing a firm hand on your lower back to bring you close to his side, and stare down into your soul. He’s daring you to tell the truth, playing with your psyche without even trying, and he’ll win the game so easily that it makes your head spin. Everybody loves him, wants to be with him, but little do they know he’s got you to play with. Why would he pay any mind to anyone else when you were such a familiar, willing, and easy target? You don’t deny him when slips a hand into your panties under the desk/table. You stand obediently when he reaches between your thighs to cup your mound, playing with your soaked folds as you try to focus on doing your job/homework. You moan so timidly into his ear every-time he ruts his hardened cock against your ass, which unconsciously pushes back into him for more, and he’ll let you until you’re interrupted or he comes undone in his pants. The push and pull between you two is finite. He likes it that way and so it’ll stay that way.

Bully Jeongin gets paired/assigned with you for projects/comeback prep more often than you think is possible. You can’t fathom how you end up partners on almost every project/task. Even if you are assigned to work with someone else/another member he still weasels his way in. Sometimes you’re sure he threatens/bribes your current partners off to have your full attention -which is true but you don’t need to know that, now do you…Jeongin surprisingly has morals when it comes to anyone else speaking badly about you. He hates it and will put a stop to it as soon as it starts. Why? He’s the only one allowed to treat you the way he does. That’s why. “….don’t say another fucking word about Y/n. She’s mine. Understand?”

Bully Jeongin loves to make you ride his thigh when you’re supposed to be studying/working. He doesn’t care that someone might hear or see you. He cares even less that you’d rather focus without being horny. “I didn’t ask what you preferred to do…” he mumbles against your lips, one hand on your hip to control how fast you pass your bare cunt over his leg, and the other keeping his phone steady as he records the whole time. You beg him not to, blushing in embarrassment as you hear his camera shutter, “Jeongin….d-don’t..” you half whine half moan as he snaps another picture. “I’ll do what I want. You just keep riding me like a good cumslut…” “M’ not…a cumslut…” you scowl in disapproval at the pet name but the expression fades to a dazed one as his hand on your hips travels down to your ass. He grasps it tight, giving the tender flesh a harsh slap in response to your defiance, “It’s cute that you think that. If you weren’t you wouldn’t be making a mess on my thigh right now and moaning like one..” his smile doesn’t match the darkness in his tone and you swallow a whimper at the contrasting factors. The heat in your core begins to unravel with every disgusting insult his gentle voice spills. “Getting off like this is all you deserve dumb bunny.” “Feels so much better than touching yourself, doesn’t it?” “Why don’t you smile at the camera when you cum. Yeah, just like that. Show ‘em’ how bad you want my cock..” He laughs softly as his words bring tears to your eyes, little droplets trickling down your cheeks as you come undone on his thigh, and try your best to smile through the riveting sensation.

‘click’ he snaps another picture of you, making sure to play with your clit to drag out your high as he does, and your smile morphs into the perfect expression of pleasure.

“Look at you being such a pretty whore for me…” Jeongin smirks, rubbing your clit faster to draw more reactions from you, and succeeding much to your dismay.

‘click’

“Picture perfect slut…”

++++++++

This was quick and sweet but like I said…I’m considering making it into a mini series. 🖤 (I literally have like 4 currently going on rn…omg…)

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I wanna lick the longest, sloppiest, sluttiest stripe up his abs/tummy. Like the urge is so real rn… 🖤 Credits to creator 🖤

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trulyhblue · 26 days

Note

Bf Leah being wound up after a bad game and takes control. Smut pls!!!!

BLED BLUE

leah williamson x chelsea! reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, humiliation, dom/sub dynamics, age gap (legal + consensual), hate sex, enemies w/ benefits, rough, coarse language.

________________

Part of you wondered how long it would take Leah to take you home. There was not an ounce of blue in her body, taken only by the lifelong allegiance to North London, but the thought of you, a blue-born Chelsea girl, taking up the space under her sheets, was addictive.

Chelsea were the better team. Always was, and always will be. The Blues were better at everything. Their players were more advanced, their game plans had been executed to perfection. Arsenal were sloppy, poor, and unjust. It was embarrassing to the point where it stood out as entertaining to you. Seeing the almighty, reigning Arsenal fall on their knees and succumb to the superiority of your team was endearing, and you found yourself searching for the thrill increasingly more as the game progressed.

And the sight of the woman you hated oh so much angered by the defeated notion of the final whistle was your idea of an indescribable victory.

“What a shame, Williamson.” You snagged, clutching the fabric at your hips, looking down at her bent figure. “I thought you’d play well.”

“Ah, it is you.” She replied with just as much spite. “I thought I saw someone falling flat on their face. Makes sense now that I know it was you.”

You smirked, folding your arms over your chest. “Yeah, tried to show my humility… y’know, after scoring two goals tonight I thought it was only necessary.”

Leah scoffed, straightening her posture to display her authoritative height over you. “Both off deflections… sounds brilliant.”

“Player of the match worthy.” You bit back, stepping forward, pressing your chest against hers, suppressing the heat in your face. “Don't worry, I’ll make sure to credit your own goal in the interview.”

“Always have an excuse to talk about me. Can't stop, can you?”

“Is that what you think of me?”

“I don't think of you.” Leah shook her head, grabbing the hem of your shorts and fiddling with them persistently. “But if I did, I’d be sure to let you know.”

“If only I cared enough to hear it.” You tutted, not really caring about the openness of your situation. The stadium was still quite full, with both of your teammates lingering on the field. Fans were banking the barricade, no doubt looking for the two of you.

“I could tell you now if you’d like.”

“Aw, are you thinking of me now, Williamson?”

You felt Leah’s hand move to the inside of your thigh, pressing a tight pinch to gain any type of reaction from you. Biting your lip, you hoped that the post-game redness covered your blush.

“I bet you love the thought of people watching this, don't you?” She asked, glaring at you with such hatred that her words felt bittersweet. “Always so desperate for attention that you’d do it in front of everyone. Fucking needy.”

“You’re the one touching me.” In anger, you snapped. You didn't like the way Leah seemed so confident, so right in what she was saying. You wanted to be right. You were the one who won it for your team. You were better than her. She needed to realise that.

The only separation between the two of you was by your arms crossed over your chest. Leah was drawing furious patterns along your thigh, pressed up against you with her face above you, your height earning her to look down.

“Pull away then.” She uttered, now pulling you into a hug. You knew this would send fans into a spiral. Everybody knew about your rivalry with Leah. It was evident in the tackles, the cards, the teams, the games, the interactions. This was unclaimed territory. You had both teased each other after the games. There was always fire and spite, anger and resentment, but never contact. She told you to pull away, and by the tension that lingered, if you did she would let you have there was something else there. You felt it between your legs, running down your spine, making your core yearn.

It was in the way she kept her hand in between your thighs, deepening her fingers just below where you needed her most. She held you tight, closing any physical gap, forcing your arms to circle her waist as she wrapped her spare arm around the name on the back of your shoulders. You don't know why, but you held her back just as tight, breathing heavily when she started moving her fingers upwards.

“So tense.” She spat, rubbing your shoulder.

You shook her arm off, keeping the contact but still resistant. “I pulled it at training, of course it is.”

“Wasn't talking about your shoulder, baby.” She chuckled, her voice sending goosebumps down your neck. “In those thighs. Clenching them so hard and I'm hardly touching ‘em.”

That was when you knew your cheeks were burning.

There was a hint of humiliation in your tone, but your anger was still prevalent. “I didn't even notice your hand.”

“Yeah, alright.” Williamson grinned, pulling away. You felt the cold air nip your cheeks at the sudden loss of contact. Her fingers were no longer soothing the ache in between your legs. “Alright, baby, no, all that flushed cheeks from the big game, hm? Breathing so heavily cause you scored two goals, is that you’re so wet for me?”

“I’m not— you're so—”

Leah stepped away again, and you were too stupid to step forward in response. “God, is that what you're gonna sound like in the interview? You a mess, Baby, really. All flustered and red.”

“I'm not red.” You snapped. “And stop calling me baby. You're only four years older than me.”

Leah could see straight through you. “But you love that though.” She saw straight past your visible persona. “Why don't you show me how mature you are then? Can't call you baby if you prove that you're not.” She could tell by your flustered state, your wide eyes and your tainted disposition that you were struggling to handle the conversation.

“I don't need to prove anything to you. I just won the match. That's enough to prove that I'm better anyway.”

“But you needed help to get there, didn't you?” She retorted. “It’s not your name on the score sheet, it's mine. Look,” she pointed up to the screen, almost condescendingly, above the stands, where WILLIAMSON (OG) was printed boldly in white below the score. “All that hard work and I still get the mention.”

There was a fight for dominance, but the fight was so clearly won when you audibly gulped, unable to come up with just enough answer to compel yourself into a deeper state of anger. If anything, you were willing to resort to forbidding, but you were stubborn and bled blue.

“You’re just mad that you lost and we won. Chelsea was always better anyway, and you were just too slow… bet that's always the case.”

Leah’s jaw clicked, her lips settling into a thin line.

“In what case?” She muttered distinctly.

“You know what case.” You failed to notice the challenge, finding yourself in a superior position of confidence to realise the hole you were digging for yourself. “Slow and boring… on and off the pitch. You definitely get around, but you never seem to see one person twice. Maybe that's because they don't want to see you.”

Leah grabbed your wrist, yanking you off the field. It was a tradition that you would see the fans after every game, so you tugged back in retaliation.

She pivoted to face you, glaring at you with so much affliction that you yearned for more.

“You seem really interested in how I ‘get around’. Sounds like you wish it was you.”

No matter how hard your body was willing to succumb to her words, you stood firm by scoffing, rolling your eyes at her cockiness. “If only I was so desperate.”

“I’ll show you just how desperate I can get you.” The captain spat, holding your forearm now, easily leading you further down the tunnel where fans or players could no longer find you. “Didn't even properly touch you before and you were a needy mess.”

“You’re always so fucking sure of yourself, aren't you, Williamson?” You snapped back, hearing the clad of your boots fail to drown out your ungrateful tone. You did not care for what Leah was so keen to impress you with. Never had anyone told you that Leah did not impress. She was determined to make sure everyone was supplied with the right things for their needs. She valued giving pleasure over receiving. But if there was one thing she hated, it was brats like you.

You stood outside the Chelsea changing rooms, your kit still adorned on your figure.

“Go get your shit.” She snarled, letting go of your arm and jabbing you forward.

You scoffed, stopping dead in your tracks. “And what? You're gonna wait for me and drop me home? I have a license, Williamson, I'm not your fucking—”

You couldn't finish your rant, yelping when Leah cut you off, grabbing the collar of your shirt and mashing her lips against yours. One of her legs found its way between yours, her knee pushing against your core. A moan fell from your lips, and the woman wasted no time in slipping her tongue in, caging your figure between you and the wall.

She waited until you were kissing her back before grabbing your neck. She instantly moved down to litter harsh kisses down the nape of your neck, using her hands to move underneath your shirt, massaging your breasts. You were a mess beneath her, breathing heavily when the pressure on your clit intensified when her knee started rubbing patterns up and down.

“Swear at me again and see how it turns out for you.” She muttered in your ear, relishing the whines that fell from your lips as her knee continued its work. “If I tell you to grab your bag, that's what you do, yeah? You understand, Chelsea?”

The nickname left you shrinking, her words making your core glisten. You weren't completely sure whether the Arsenal girl was planning on taking you home. You didn't understand why you were all of a sudden pretty much moaning at the friction of her knee.

But you weren't fucking complaining.

“My teammates are in there.”

Leah let out a laugh. “You had no problem letting me touch you in a filled Stanford Bridge, Babygirl. I think it’d be healthy if your teammates realised who fucks their Stargirl after a home game.”

“You haven't fucked me, yet.” Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the thought of the England captain fucking you sending you into a spiral.

“Go get your bag and then I can use that pretty mouth for something other than moaning my last name… not that I mind when you do that.”

You wasted no time in doing as you were told, forever thankful that all of your teammates were either still interacting with fans or showering. You grabbed all of your stuff and quickly followed Leah over to the away changing rooms.

She let you walk through, since none of the girls were present, grabbing your belongings and chucking them inside her cubby. You felt her figure cage you back into the nearest wall, her hands how playing with the hem of your shirt, inching it further up your waist until it was completely disregarded, and you were left in your sports bra and shorts.

“Why so quiet?” Leah asked, kissing down the column of your neck, fondling your breasts. You sighed at the growing ache in your core, throwing your head back when Leah’s knee came back into contact with your clit.

“Some— someone’s going to walk in.”

Leah snorted. “Like you would mind.”

You huffed, grabbing the back of her neck and pushing her head further down your body. Leah’s knee stopped in return, leaving you writhing at the loss of pressure.

“Use your words or you can get off yourself.”

“Like you could get me off.” You retorted.

“I don't make brats cum.” She spat, moving back up to tower over you. “I edge them until they’re desperate and getting themself off my thigh. I treat them like brats, and maybe you need to work a little fucking harder for what you want.”

“You were just teasing me!”

“You're just desperate.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Leah.” There it was. Music to her ears.

“What?”

You whined, using your hips to drag yourself along her knee.

“What was that, Baby? Couldn't hear you under all those whines.”

“Leah, c’mon.” You stated potently, getting more impatient by the minute. “I'm not begging.”

The number six shrugged, looking down at you with wide, innocent eyes like she had no clue what you were going on about. Like she didn't even realise that you were humping her leg longing for some relief.

“Begging for what?” She moved her finger painstakingly down your chest, tracing your abs ever so slowly.

“For you.”

“For me?” She questioned, feigning confusion. Her hand dipped into the waistband of your shorts, circling your clit over your underwear. “Answer me, Darling. What do you want me to do? I'm touching you.”

“Touch me more.”

Leah tutted, moving her hand away. You groaned, throwing your head back when no pleasure was offered. “I'm afraid that's not how you ask. It might get you somewhere at Chelsea, but at Arsenal, we treat our Captains with respect. Even our star girls use their manners in the North end.”

“Touch me more, please.”

“Where, Chelsea?” Leah moved closer to you, peeling off her own shirt, removing your shorts, leaving you in your underwear and bra. “Be a good girl and tell me where.” She asked, her body lowering itself closer to the ground. You watched her kneel before you, hands gripping your waist, kneading your hips, lips biting your inner thigh.

“My clit, Lee, please. I need you to touch me there.”

“Such a good girl for your Captain, aren't you?” Leah ran her tongue along your folds, your underwear pooled at your feet. Your legs were swung over her shoulders, your hands buried in her hair, pulling taunt to her ponytail and the hairs that had fallen out during the game. Your moans were still muffled by the bite in your lips, the nerves of someone hearing your desperation for your enemy is still evident in the way you kept your mouth shut.

It was when Leah’s tongue latched onto your clit, sucking harshly on the swollen bud that your noises fell so adamantly from your reddened lips. You felt Leah’s cocky smile, her chuckles sending vibrations of pleasure through your body.

“Sound so pretty, Baby.”

“Leah— fuck, Lee. I'm gonna—”

“You’re going to hold it. Taste so good, you can wait.”

The coil in your stomach was forming long before Leah had even started, and the more Leah attacked your bud, the more your orgasm led to burst. Your moans had doubled in volume when one of her hands came up to play with your nipple, pinching it and playing with the nub every time her tongue licked up your folds. Her other hand worked its way through your pussy, spreading your slick all over your thighs, letting it run down your shaking legs and make your skin glisten with the glossy arousal.

“Want Stanford to hear you,” Leah spoke from below you. You whined at the thought. You were in a state of pure bliss that all cautionary thoughts of interruption were so far gone. All you could think about was Leah’s face between your legs.

“Feels so good, Lee. Want to cum so bad for you.”

“You can hold it, baby.”

“Mh, Lee, please.”

Leah moaned at your whines, nuzzling her nose up against your clit, pinching your nipple hard, reeling at the moan you let out in response. She saw the way your hole clenched around nothing, smirking at the way you rolled your hips across her face, working your pussy into her mouth so easily. She felt powerful knowing she had you at her disposal. You were stunning always, but there was something about you now that set Leah off. It made her angry knowing that you weren't hers to fuck at her discretion. It made her protective over you in ways she had never felt before. You were Chelsea’s protege — everyone worried when going up against you.

“Leah.”

It wasn't like something had changed, but Leah had realised that her hate was actually protection and adoration. She wanted you for herself. She wanted to steer you away from anyone that would hurt you. She hated Chelsea, she despised the West side more than anything, and it wasn't the sex that made her realise this.

“Leah.”

It was her name coming from your lips.

“Cum for me, Baby.”

That was all you needed to hear before you were barreling over the edge, your legs relying entirely on the strength of Leah’s upper body to keep you balanced. Your moans exemplified the stimulation of your orgasm riding out, and Leah’s endeavours to lick the result of it up as it poured into her mouth and onto your thighs.

The woman made sure you had somewhat caught your breath before she moved, having a moment to catch her own breath and comprehend what just happened. When she knew you were able to stand independently, she moved over to her cubby, grabbing the baby wipes she always had handy, moving back down to her knees to clean the mess across your legs as you covered your chest back with your jersey, and later your shorts.

Leah moved to do the same, except she watched as you fumbled with what to do. She gave you a pointed look as if to question your thinking, and you simply sighed and waddled over to her, slight humiliation at your wobbly legs painting your cheeks as you grabbed your bag.

“You all good, Baby?” She asked, her voice no longer authoritative and rather empathetic.

“Yeah, thanks.” You nodded. “Erm… sorry for being… rude… actually I'm not sorry but I am.”

“Yeah, same,” Leah replied a cheeky grin settled on her complexion. “I think we can settle for friendly rivalry from now on.”

“If that's what you call this, then sure.” You added, laughing along with what to make of the situation, feeling more out of place than ever in the middle of the Arsenal room. “I better go.”

“I’ll drive you home.”

“Lee, I've got my license—”

“It wasn't a question, Chelsea.”

You stood there defeated, knowing internally that you had no way home after Millie had driven you to the stadium and would have left by now anyway. Leah must’ve known that by the way she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her chest.

“Besides, wouldn't want that Player of The Match Trophy getting forgotten now, would we?”

_________________

A/N — bad ending but oh well… HOPE YOU ENJOYED!!!

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daybrightsims · 2 months

Text

Alright, they've lived in my brain too long; Time to air out my thoughts about the polyamory in BG3

To give a little context: I am currently ethically non-monogamous with my primary partner of almost 7 years. I am not a monolith of thought when it comes to polyamory/ENM/open relationships. These are my own personal thoughts and feelings. I've also completed the game with Astarion and Halsin romanced. Spoilers ahead, read at your own risk.

TL;DR - I don't share the current opinion of whether or not Astarion is okay with Tav pursuing Halsin and the discourse around his agency and choices in the relationship are bumming me out and frustrating me.

I am getting increasingly frustrated about the conversation about Astarion being polyamorous/okay with Tav being with Halsin in the game, primarily because I think a lot of the "think pieces" are coming from 1) monogamous people who have only ever been monogamous, 2) monogamous people who have been burned/cheated on/forced into polyamory by a partner (I feel for ya'll, that wasn't okay), 3) people who are very VERY protective of Astarion, and 4) people who are blatantly uncomfortable with polyamory. My goal is not to invalidate anyone's experiences, but to share an alternate perspective.

I do think that Astarion is not only okay, but happy with Tav dating Halsin. I glean this from how he responds to being poly with ANY OTHER companion. If you ask him to share with literally anyone else, he will say no and give his reason.

Gale: He doesn’t want to be in a love triangle (which with Gale, it would be).

Lae’zel: He’s uncomfortable and Lae’zel would kill him (also true).

Wyll: He knows Wyll is old fashioned and monogamous.

Karlach: He knows Karlach’s feelings for you are strong and he doesn’t want to stand in the way of that (he even says he’d be cool with an arrangement but knows Karlach will need all of your affection based on what she’s been through).

Shadowheart: He would be cool IF Shadowheart had more experience and ya’ll were together longer. But he knows Shadowheart is fragile in her current state.

Minthara: He REALLY doesn’t like this idea and will dump you immediately.

I did also see that ***SPOILER*** they updated or are updating some of the spawn Astarion language to have issues with your affair with Mizora should you pursue it, and it requires a persuasion/deception role to keep you two together.

Up to this point in your relationship with Astarion, he has become more comfortable voicing his opinions and concerns with you. He is learning to value his autonomy and his non-physical relationships. He will tell you when he doesn’t want to do something. In fact, he’ll break up with you over pushing his boundaries. He is fine with you pursuing the Drow twins and fine with you sleeping with Haarlep, even comforts you when Haarlep uses your form. So when he says he is okay with you pursuing Halsin, he means it. Yes, he voices his insecurity with you that you may be pursuing Halsin because you and he haven’t had sex in a while. But he acknowledges that Halsin has experience in this arrangement and doesn’t pose a threat to your relationship. Plus, if you kiss Halsin in front of him, he’ll say “don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying the show.”

To me, the idea that this is the ONE thing that Astarion doesn't have agency over in an arc of showing he can speak up for himself is you sleeping with Halsin is an idea that takes more agency from Astarion. He is a grown man. A 240 YEAR OLD man. That trauma he's endured does not mean he needs to be babied or coddled because he can't make his own choices. I think that's an unfair assumption to put on him that Halsin and Tav being together is the ONLY thing he can't enforce his boundaries on.

If he didn't want you to be with Halsin, he would say no like every other monogamous character in the game.

If you want a good example of someone saying yes just because they want to keep you, look at Karlach. You can tell she is HEARTBROKEN when you ask her, but she says “I don’t want to lose you”. That is not an enthusiastic participant in a polyamorous relationship. Astarion says “yeah, go for it! Just give me some reassurance”. Polyamory is not immune to insecurity. I've asked for reassurance in my own relationships and so has my primary partner. That’s not unenthusiastic. That’s realistic as shit. If you ask him about the relationship after you finish his questline, he doesn’t need reassurance because you’re having sex again. That’s also super realistic.

Am I sensitive to this as someone who practices ENM? Almost certainly. It's hard to see a lifestyle I live be villainized and claimed to be "forced" onto characters. I was actually really excited that I could pursue both Astarion and Halsin, and that Halsin places so much importance on consent and not misleading your partner. And it sucks SOO much to see one of my favorite characters be reduced to "oh, he's only doing it because he's afraid to lose Tav." It makes me almost feel bad for liking the interactions between them and enjoying to option. Do I think people mean to make me or other poly people feel bad? No.

But it does.

Headcanons are headcanons. I get it. People are absolutely allowed to interpret the poly aspect of BG3 how they want to. People are allowed to feel uncomfy with how it's portrayed and not pursue it. But it still bums a queer ENM Astarion and Halsin lover out.

Now excuse me whilst I live out my Astarion x Halsin x Tav polycule fantasies in the form of fanfiction.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 companions #spawn astarion #astarion #polyamory #enm #ethical non monogamy #halsin x astarion #act iii #halsin #monogamy

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bogleech · 7 months

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I have to say it does make me really depressed and even more worried for the future that any human being is actually capable of thinking we should eliminate all forms of violence from all wild animal species. The first time I saw someone saying this I thought they were satirizing PETA or something, inventing an extreme conclusion to animal rights as a joke. Now I know it's a real philosophical movement increasingly popular with a bunch of rich tech people who go around giving speeches at universities about how we should just flood the natural world with GMO's to try and "herbivorize predators," wipe out all parasites, cure all disease, eliminate aging and remove just all forms of pain or even competition from all ecosystems. "But that will just DESTROY those ecosystems" you say. Yeah they know and they want that too. They call nature things like "The Darwinian House of Horrors" and dream of a future where the entire planet is a tightly controlled, deathless biotech zoo. "But we shouldn't worry because that's impossible anyway" yes, yes it is, but it's entirely possible to release genetically altered organisms into the wild and these people already talk about "starting small" with CRISPR experimentation. There's already corporations testing GM mosquitoes that can't bite anymore. As soon as any of these fuckoffs get access to enough money and backing they're going to attempt that with an eagle or a shark or a big cat, and they're probably going to find out the hard way that their idea won't work the way they want it to but in the meantime they'll quite possibly cause an extinction or two, and then they're going to just keep trying it again. This is in their little ted talks and thinkpieces. They think everything's already doomed anyway and that if they accidentally wipe out a species it just won't matter because extinctions are natural and at least that species is no longer suffering. They call their movement things like "compassionate biology" and "effective altruism," in case you're wondering what to look out for. They've got all sorts of web communities for it, like this one. but before you go thinking they're just animal rights fanatics, DON'T WORRY! They do in fact include humans in their plans! They think gene editing should also be put towards the eradication of all disability, neurodivergence, or maybe even "capacity for cruelty" in humans! They sit around wanking all day about their eugenicist dream zombie utopia :) :) :) did I mention lots of them are actually rich with actual corporate and academic connections lololol

#kill these people #kill them all

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aphroditelovesu · 4 months

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Yay! I'm so happy you write for Baldwin IV!!! Could you do general yandere headcanons for him? Thank you!💗

''Nothing is more important to me than you.'' — Baldwin IV.

❝ 📜 — lady l: I got a little excited, but I hope you like it. I've always wanted to write for him and I finally got the chance! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of murder, manipulation (sorta of), unhealthy relationships.

❝📜pairing: yandere!king baldwin iv/leper king x gender neutral!reader.

Baldwin had always been shy in his obsession with you, always self-aware of his illness that had left him forever disfigured. He was afraid that you would find him disgusting, that you would hate him and he didn't want that. Baldwin couldn't handle it if you hated him. He wanted to be loved by you, but he was too afraid to talk to you directly for quite some time.

So he remained in the shadows, hidden and longing for you from afar. Even before becoming King, he already dreamed of you and these desires only became more frequent after he became sovereign. He was precocious and maintained a good shape and physical appearance and was optimistic about his illness, but as he grew older he felt increasingly disturbed by the idea of you hating or despising him.

That doesn't mean he ignored you, Baldwin never did that and never will. He can't bear to be away from you, at least not physically, and he can't even go without talking to you. Talking to you was what cheered him up when his mind was consumed by dark thoughts. You were his light.

Baldwin will make sure that once he becomes King, he can ensure that you are well, that you are living well and with the honor, the wealth that you deserve, in his domain. He will do everything in his power to make sure you are eating well and will even go so far as to offer you an official position, if you don't already have one, so he can take care of you.

Although he prefers to stay away so he can also protect you from his illness, that doesn't mean he will allow you to be taken away from him. You may not know it, but you belonged to him. Any love interests or potential suitors/lovers will be quickly and quietly dealt with. Baldwin is not cruel and does not intend to be, but he will become a monster for you.

If he could, Baldwin would marry you, but due to his illness, he is prevented from doing so, so he prefers to keep you close while giving important positions to you or your family. It's a way of ensuring the loyalty of those important to you and having you close by. There are only benefits from his perspective.

Baldwin is remembered and admired for being a competent king who brought prosperity to the Kingdom of Jerusalem, but little is known that the real motivation was you. It was you who held power over him, who influenced him to do anything you wanted. He could become a tyrant if you asked him to. But he feels proud of himself for having met your expectations for his government.

When he has to go out to protect and defend Jerusalem, Baldwin will probably take you with him. He could leave you to take care of State affairs, but he can't bear to be away from you. He is quite clingy although he doesn't always touch you physically, he still needs to be in your presence. It's a constant need, Baldwin feels like a part of his heart withers when he's away from you.

Baldwin may not be able to be with you the way he would like and this has only served to increase his possessive tendencies. He won't allow other people to get too close to you, to steal you from him. Even though you can't officially be his, that doesn't mean he'll let you be someone else's. He will have no problem sending the person who threatens his position in your life to a deadly skirmish, arrest or even executed.

He is neither cruel nor sadistic, but for your sake he will be willing to commit the most heinous crimes just to ensure that you remain by his side. Baldwin needs you like he's never needed anyone before and he knows he'll be destroyed if anything happens to you.

If it were to happen to him, Baldwin will make sure you are safe and protected, perhaps even naming you his Heir. He wouldn't want to leave Earth without you, but he's not selfish enough to want to kill you. He wants you to live a long and happy life, preferably single, even if he's not by your side. He is completely selfless and you will always come first for him. First you and then his duties.

There is nothing he wouldn't do or give to you. Titles, official positions, riches, clothes, jewelry and food in abundance, anything you wanted, he would do it in the blink of an eye. Baldwin trusts you blindly, going so far as to obey your orders on any issue, from food to military matters.

Baldwin IV is a great soft for you and you only. He may seem weak, but that's all he isn't. He is intelligent and knows how to make rational decisions and he will do that with you. Because he loves you, he depends on you and because you are his hope. His light. Don't leave him or Baldwin will go crazy and even go so far as to commit suicide if you abandon him.

You are his greatest strength and his greatest weakness.

#yandere history #history #yandere historical characters #yandere baldwin iv x reader #yandere baldwin iv #yandere baldwin iv headcanons #baldwin iv x reader #leper king x reader #yandere headcanons #headcanons #dark!baldwin iv

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ellecdc · 3 months

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Come Back, Be Here

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 8k words

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, amnesia, healing/blood and injury (no one is injured during this story), mention of Bellatrix's cursed knife (same injury Hermione received, sorry), angst, hurt/comfort, use of Y/N

Synopsis: After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. How will Sirius react when he finally gets his love back, but you don't seem to recognize any of them? (concept inspired by Recognition by aeaean__bliss on ao3)

James hated this – he hated the paranoia, he hated worrying, he hated the idea that taking one step outside of the threshold may be the last time he ever sees his wife and son. He had taken ‘one last look’ at too many people in his life, and he was exhausted.

But he was also trained for this.

Pads had been growing more and more paranoid as the war waged on – with all the loss, the targeted attacks of Order members and the growing speculation of a spy amongst them; he begged Lily and James to change Peter to the secret keeper. “I’ll be the Death Eaters first thought, Prongs - he’s the less obvious choice.” It had been months since James had seen Sirius so desperate and passionate, so he agreed. Peter’s schedule with the Ministry had been taking up a lot of his time, but he said that the next Order meeting they would do the trade.

Until then, Sirius made sure Lily and James had a contingency plan.

“If anything fuckey happens, you have to promise me you’ll leave, no questions asked. Okay?” Sirius begged. “Have a go-bag packed for you both and Harry at the ready. If you feel any weakening of the wards – you leave.”

So, something fuckey happened. Lily got herself and Harry dressed for the rain, their bags by the back door ready to make a run for it, and James stood at the front door with his invisibility cloak pulled over him and wand at the ready.

The wards had chimed – signifying someone was here – but they were still standing; this meant Sirius was fine. Wards wobbled all the time – sometimes muggles wandered too closely to them without realizing – but the concerning part was the snap of apparition they heard before the wards had alerted them.

“It could be Moony, or Wormtail.” Lily said, mostly trying to convince herself that everything was fine.

James smiled at his wife like this might be the last time he ever did so. “Very true. I’ll be back in a mo’, okay? If anything happens, you guys go. I’ll find you.” He said.

Lily gave him a watery smile.

“I love you.”

James stepped out into the torrential downpour. Britain wasn’t always known for its reliable weather, but even James was baffled by the sudden late-October thunderstorm. As tempted as he was to cast a weather repelling charm around him, he didn’t want to give away his location by having water bouncing away from his invisible figure, so he allowed himself to get increasingly soaked as he squinted into the night, looking for any signs of who alerted their wards.

He made it to the front gate – where he could see the end of the wards and cast a quick revelio.

Nothing.

“Moony?” He whispered, knowing the lycanthrope would hear him over the heavy rain.

“Pete?” He asked a little louder after receiving no answer.

He waited for a few more moments, cast one more revelio, and moved to the back of the house when he picked up nothing.

Godric’s Hollow is a wizarding community as well, he reminded himself, maybe someone just unknowingly apparated too close to the property.

He cast another revelio in the backyard and his heart leapt into his throat when he saw movement in the woods. “Buggering fuck!” He whisper-shouted, but embarrassingly realized he was watching the figure of a cat running away into the forest.

“Well, that’s not what I heard apparating here, now is it?” He muttered under his breath. He was beginning to suspect they heard some ignorant witch or wizard who miscalculated their apparation as he finished surveying the backyard.

Suddenly, he spotted a figure; it appeared unmoving, and was in a heap on the ground directly outside the ward line. James looked around, casting another revelio – nothing. The only thing he’s found is the slumped figure at the ward line.

James was torn – does he check what it is? What if it’s a person? Should he see if they are okay? Should he go inside and tell Lily that it’s fine before he checks on the figure? Would they still be waiting outside when he came back out? Is this a trap?

His musings were interrupted as the figure started choking.

“Merlin, I’m going to die of a bleeding heart.” James muttered as he made his way to the figure. He cast one more revelio on his way to confirm no one else was around waiting to ambush him.

Against his better judgment - knowing Sirius would have him by the bollocks for this later - he stepped outside of the wards, grabbed the figure and hauled the body back over the ward line. At least now I only have to be worried about dying at the hands of this individual half dead wix.

The body was small – James would assume it was a student from Hogwarts if it weren’t for the fact that they clearly apparated here and all students would be in school. Their cloak appeared far too large for their body and was completely soaked through due to the rain.

The figure began coughing again, and James heard gurgling sounds.

He ripped the hood off the figure and gasped.

Pale – so sickly pale – bruised black and blue and currently coughing up blood was you. Vixen! The witch, friend, fellow animagus and therefore honorary Marauder and his personal mission partner whom James last saw dying in the rubble of your last stake-out location.

“Oh Merlin, OH MERLIN.” James shouted as he whipped off the invisibility cloak and threw it over his shoulder.

He turned his attention back to you as you continued to sputter. He carefully turned you onto your side so you could spit the blood out of your mouth, which caused you to throw up.

“Okay, alright, come on Vix. Let’s get you inside. You’re okay, come on.” James muttered, mostly as a mantra to himself. He felt the adrenaline rushing through his body and tried to ignore the ringing in his ears.

He lifted you up into his arms; one arm supporting your knees whilst the other supported your shoulders. You hung from his grasp like a corpse.

“Stay with me, Vix. Stay with me. You’re going to be okay.” He continued as he got to the door.

He kicked the back door with his foot before cursing and remembering their code. He paused; three quick kicks, one kick, two quick kicks. “Lily! It’s clear, open up!”

Lily set Harry in his playpen and was quick to unlock the door. “Thank Merlin, I - oh!” She quickly moved out of way to avoid being barreled over by her husband with a body in his arms. “What did you find?”

“Not what, Lil’s. Who.”

He ran to the guest bedroom on the first floor, gently laying you onto the bed.

“No...” Lily whispered from the door, her face falling so pale that her freckles stood out in stark contrast.

“Help me. Help her. She’s hurt, she’s-” he started, but he could hardly breathe.

James’ stuttering seemed to snap Lily out of it, and she began barking orders.

“Go get towels, as many as we can. Put a few throw blankets into the dryer for about twenty minutes to warm them up.” She said as she moved to the bed. James didn’t need to be told twice.

Lily set the soaking cloak that James had unceremoniously plopped onto the bed onto the chesterfield. She vanished the black turtleneck and black trousers from your body hoping you wouldn’t miss them terribly. Her breath was taken away, but she couldn’t stare in horror for long as you began coughing up more blood.

She noticed bleeding from your left side – you had what looked like a stab wound in your ribs, which had punctured your lung. Okay Lily, you know this.

Lily sometimes hated magic - it had caused so much pain in her life. She had been called slurs and faced prejudice, she was left without a relationship with her sister, she lost friends and many she considered family to this magical war, and her husband and family were currently facing death by the hands of an evil wizard. Right at this very moment, however, Lily thanked all the deities possible for her use of magic.

She quickly syphoned the fluids and blood quickly flooding your lung before casting a quick sawdering charm to it. Lily heard the telltale snap of your ribs back into place before she closed the wound. It wasn’t as pretty as what could have been done by a real Healer or even Madam Pomfrey, but it would do.

Lily cleared your mouth and throat of blood and conjured a glass of water, forcing some into your mouth before encouraging you to spit it back out.

Once you were no longer at risk of immediately dying, Lily took in the rest of your body.

Your collarbone appeared to protrude from its rightful place, and you had severe bruising around your neck. Lily corrected your collar bone with a flick of her wand which elicited a painful grunt from your lips. You seemed quite a bit thinner than the last time she had seen you, and wondered when your last good meal was. She levitated you gently off the bed and noted that the majority of the bruising appeared around your torso and back. You had a large, healed scar on your right thigh and a small puncture shaped scar on your lower left abdomen. But none of this made Lily feel nearly as sick as when she noticed the word mudblood carved into the skin of your left arm; the wound appeared brand new, as if it had just happened, but it was dry and not bleeding.

The bedroom door slammed open as James threw a pile of at least twenty towels onto the other side of the bed as your form. “I’ve got blankets in the drying machine thingy.” He muttered out of breath as he straightened his glasses.

“Merlin’s tits. What-” he started before Lily cut him off.

“Out, out. Give us some privacy, I’m going to run her a warm bath. Can you bring me some clothes for her?”

James jumped and took off out of the room again.

You had been coming in and out of consciousness as Lily gently washed your body. Every time your eyes met Lily’s green ones, Lily felt her breath leave her body. It’s like looking at a ghost. She wanted to throw up, she wanted to cry, she wanted to sing and dance, my friend, who we had a funeral for, was back from the dead. But she had a job to do, dammit she had a job to do. She’s not your friend right now Lily, she’s your patient. Help her. She needs a healer. You’re as good as one. Help your patient.

Neither of you spoke – Lily didn’t want to overwhelm you, and she also had no idea what to say. There’s so much I’ve wanted to tell you since you’ve been gone; now I have no words.

Lily helped you dry off and supported your weight as she walked you back into the bedroom. James had brought down a tracksuit of Lily’s, which was too big for you, but it was dry and warm, and it would have to do.

After you were dressed, Lily had you sit on the edge of the bed as she brushed and braided your hair.

“There you go, Y/N.” Lily said as she gently tapped your shoulder, cautious of any pain you may be feeling from your collarbone injury.

“You know my name.” you asked quietly, but it wasn’t a question.

Lily paled. Know your name? Try: know your entire life story up until about a year ago.

“I do.” Lily answered cautiously, moving to stand in front of her friend. “Do you know mine?”

Lily watched as your eyes scanned her face. “No,” she admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Lily said dumbly. “Well, that’s okay. Nothing to be sorry for. I’m Lily. We were friends, before.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and Lily instantly regretted saying anything. “Here, why don’t we get you into bed, hm?” She offered as a distraction to the both of you.

You grimaced as you shuffled to the head of the bed where Lily pulled the warm blankets James had left for you to climb under.

“I’ll go make a pot of tea and get you some pain potion, okay?”

You seemed to consider Lily for some time before finally nodding your head at her.

“I’ll be right back.”

Lily closed the door behind her and rushed to the kitchen. “James” She sobbed.

Her husband immediately stood from the kitchen table and enveloped her in his arms.

“What happened? Is she okay?” He asked into her hair.

“She doesn’t know who I am.” She muttered miserably.

James froze and pulled his wife away from him to look into her eyes. “She what?”

“She doesn’t recognize me, James. She asked how I knew her name.”

“Oh, Godric.” James muttered, falling back into the chair. “Do you think she’ll recognize me? Or anyone else?”

Lily sighed as she made her way into the kitchen and turned on the kettle. “I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s shock, or amnesia, or a brain injury, or if it’s just me. There are too many variables. I think we should probably wait before we tell the other’s she’s here – I don’t know how they’ll handle not being recognized.”

“Fuck” James whispered.

“Potter.” Lily deadpanned. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

The only response she got was a guilty look from James before the front door flew open.

“Where is she?” Sirius demanded, staring at his friends as if they had personally victimized him, Remus following closely behind, face white as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Would you quiet down.” Lily seethed as she threw up a hasty mufliato.

“I am not fucking around, Red. Where. Is. She.” He repeated angrily, shaking off James’ hand that had been placed on his shoulder.

“If you think I’m letting you anywhere near her when you’re like this, you are out of your sodding mind.” Lily seethed, walking over, and shoving her face into Sirius’.

“Mate, please. Sit down, let us fill you in. The second we do; you can go see her.” James said, trying to appease his friend. Sirius’ chest heaved as his burning eyes met Remus’ glassy ones which were already on him; a silent question of “Are we going to comply or are we going to cause a scene?” passed between them. Sirius moved his eyes back to Lily; he knew Lily wasn’t messing around - she was the mother of the group; she always had been. And she had always been the absolute best of friends with you and Remus, which made her all the more protective over you two in particular. He knew he should trust her when it came to you, but after the last mission - the mission you never fucking returned from, he doubted he would ever trust anyone with you ever again.

Lily watched his face as he seemed to come to some sort of decision.

“You have exactly five minutes starting the second my arse hits that seat, and then I will see her. Got it?” He stated bluntly, before shoving past her and James and sitting at the kitchen table.

Lily and James shared a look before they joined him at the table, Remus sitting down last.

James and Lily just stared at each other; each silently begging the other to start. Sirius grew more and more agitated the longer no one said anything, his knee bouncing under the table. 4 minutes and 17 seconds before I break every door down in this fucking house to find her.

“So,” James started, “She’s here.”

Lily grimaced. “We heard the snap of apparition and then there was a wobble in the wards.” Sirius’ eyes widened.

“We were ready to run,” Lily input at Sirius’ face, “but since the wards were still up and unaffected, James went to investigate.”

“She was soaked to the bone and just lying there. Honestly, I...I thought there was just a dead body until she started to choke.” James admitted. “I got her inside and brought her to the room where Lily healed her.”

“And?” Remus asked quietly.

“And it’s not good.” Lily admitted.

“She’s alive.” James amended, giving Lily a pointed look as if saying do you know who you’re talking to right now?

“Right, erm,” Lily started, “She had a stab wound in her ribs which had punctured her lung – that’s what was causing her to choke. I emptied the lung of blood and fluids and closed it up, re-set the broken ribs and closed the wound – her collar bone was also dislocated. She’s badly bruised and beaten. She has a few healed scars...” she trailed off awkwardly.

“Merlin’s tits.” Sirius muttered into his hands which were covering his face. “Is that all?” He asked sarcastically.

“No, there are two more things, but I need you to stay quiet and calm and listen to me. Do not speak until I say so, okay?”

She gave Sirius a pointed look and the man begrudgingly nodded.

“It appears that someone carved the word mudblood into her left arm – the wound looked brand new, but it wasn’t bleeding or red, so I’m not sure why it looks the way it does. I’ll need an actual healer to look it over.” She sighed greatly before continuing. “And she doesn’t know who I am.”

The room fell painfully silent, all eyes on her.

“Someone carved...?” Remus finally began whispering before he was cut off by Sirius.

“What do you mean she doesn’t know who you are?” Sirius asked.

“I mean I’m a stranger to her Sirius.” She muttered miserably. “She asked me how I knew her name, and when I told her we were friends, she looked like she was going to cry.”

Sirius’ already alabaster skin appeared to grow a sickly paler shade as he looked incredulously at Lily.

He watched as James rubbed Lily’s shoulder. Beaten. Stabbed. Bruised. Tortured. Someone hurt her. Someone touched her – violated her. My girl.

But she’s here. He reminded himself.

“Okay.” He whispered.

The table grew quiet again, everyone turning their attention to the dark-haired man.

“Okay?” Lily asked between sniffles.

“Okay.” He repeated before making eye contact with her again. “She’s likely been through hell, I hardly expect much of her right now. Fuck, I hardly ever expected to get her back at all so, let’s just...” He stopped, looking down at the woodgrain on the table. “We’ll make sure she’s okay to start and then, maybe eventually, we can help her get her memories back or something.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I just want to make sure she’s okay.”

Lily gave him a sad smile as more tears fell.

“Okay Pads.” She said, reaching to take his hand. “Let’s go see our girl.”

“Y/N? It’s me,” Lily started as she leaned into the bedroom door. “Erm, Lily.” She clarified awkwardly. “I’ve got your tea and something to eat, may I come in?”

She waited for a few beats before she poked her head in. “You okay?” She asked gently. She spotted her friend sitting exactly where she had left you; propped up in the bed on a tower of pillows and wrapped in the numerous blankets that James had warmed up for you. Lily plastered on what she hoped was her most calming smile.

“When was the last time you’ve eaten?” She asked gently, moving into the room.

“I’m not sure.” You admitted in a whisper, warily eying the grapes, cheese, and crackers Lily had prepared that sat beside the tea and vial of pain potion which Lily placed on the bed before you.

“I can get you something else if you’d like, but I figured it might be good to have a little something in your stomach on account of the pain potion.” She grimaced as she motioned toward the offending vial.

The sound of a throat clearing interrupted the women and brought your attention to the door where James and Sirius both stood, waiting for... well, Lily wasn’t sure.

You just stared blankly at the men. Your eyes seemed to dart between James and Sirius, questions flying behind your eyes.

“Mind if we join you?” James asked quietly, holding his hands open as if a universal way to say, see? Friendly. We mean you no harm.

You turned your gaze back to Lily who was silently encouraging you. Lily wore a soft smile, and her eyes were full of compassion and understanding.

“Sure.” You finally said, your voice thick. The boys let out a breath and moved into the room slowly. Lily stared at them both, hoping they got her silent plea: you are great big giant oafs; please be as un-intimidating as possible.

It wasn’t easy; Sirius with his thick, rock-star style black hair and covered in various tattoos which stood out in stark contrast against his alabaster skin. His combat boots which were never tied properly were not the stealthiest footwear, and his various pieces of silver jewelry littering his body added to the intimidating aura that was Sirius Black.

And big, bumbling James; built like the Quidditch chaser he is. He stood slightly taller than Sirius, and between his ADHD and constant need for movement, he was in perfect shape for a soldier. He could appear intimidating when he needed to be, and when he was actually angry: watch out. But those who knew him would laugh and laugh to know you ever feared him if you hadn’t a reason. He smiled warmly at you and sat on the floor near the fireplace.

Sirius sat behind Lily in a wingback chair that he turned to face the bed you were sat on. He monitored your face looking for any signs of recognition as you surveyed the newcomers. He tried not to feel disappointed when he didn’t see any. He failed anyways.

“Our friend’s showed up while the tea was on, we never could keep them away for long.” Lily offered when you still hadn’t said anything.

“Rem will be back later; he ran out to grab some things.” Sirius explained.

James, never being one for sublties asked “do you recognize either of us?” as if the question had been lodged behind his teeth since he first found you.

Lily and Sirius sucked in a breath as they turned to analyze you. Your gaze moved over the two men before looking down at your hands in your lap and shook your head.

“Well, that’s alright; we always liked making new friends.” James offered. “I’m James – I found you outside. And this here is Sirius.” He said, motioning to his friend.

Sirius heard you let out a shakey breath at the end of James' sentence, and Lily noticed tears springing into her friend’s eyes.

“What’s the matter, love?” Sirius asked her gently.

You shook your head miserably and looked between the two men again. Sirius thought he would throw up while Lily’s eyes widened in horror.

“No, no. Y/N, it’s alright, you’re safe, no one’s going to hurt you.” she clarified.

“We’re your friends,” James offered quietly, “we only wanted to know you were okay.”

You didn’t seem able to make eye contact with any of them anymore and stared at the tea tray set out in front of you.

“It’s chamomile,” Lily offered, “it was one of your favourites.”

Sirius and James exchanged a glance before the former slowly stood and made his way over to you; you didn’t look up at Sirius, but he noticed your body tense. Keeping his distance, he picked up the cup of tea and gave it a sniff before taking a sip, making a show of swishing it in his mouth before swallowing.

“Hm, yep. Chamomile, two sugars and a splash of milk.” He said before he cast a quick revelio over the cup and pot. “And nothing else added.”

He placed the cup back onto the tray. “You can never be too careful these days, hm?” He offered you with a smile before returning to his seat.

You looked at Lily before you carefully picked up the tea with shaking hands. The warmth of the cup brought tears to your eyes as you held it tightly in your hands, enjoying the aroma before taking your own cautious sip.

Seemingly satisfied you weren’t being poisoned, you grimaced at the smell of the pain poition before downing it with nothing more than a cough. Sirius thought you were a much better sport about it than he was.

“Why don’t we light the fire, hm?” Lily asked, beginning to stand.

“I’ve got it.” Sirius mumbled, standing, and placing a few logs into the hearth before casting an incendio.

Sirius could feel your eyes following him; he knew because they burned into his skin like they always had before. He always had a sixth sense when it came to you. He missed this familiar feeling, even though it was currently painful; he never thought he’d feel the burn of your stare again.

“Thank you.” He heard whispered, and looked to see you looking at him from under your lashes as you brought the tea to your lips again.

“You’re very welcome.” He smiled at you.

“Do you know me?” You suddenly whispered. If it wasn’t for the fact that the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire, the rest of the room’s occupants would have missed it completely.

“Yes.” James said with a soft smile.

“Were we...” you started, before clearing your throat and returning your gaze to your hands. “Were we friends? Before?” You finished, not returning your gaze.

“The best of.” James replied.

You seemed to think on this for a while before you looked up and met Sirius’ eyes.

“And you?” You queried.

Sirius was sure he just heard his heart break. He wondered how much he should tell you. She doesn’t remember me. She doesn’t remember the nights shared, or the fights had, or the days spent. How much does he tell you?

He recognized that everyone is looking at him now; you inquisitively, James appeared distraught, and Lily was looking at him with the saddest smile he’d ever seen. He had very little time to answer this question.

“You couldn’t shake me off, love. I followed you around everywhere.” He settled for, trying to smile at you but it felt more like a grimace.

You sighed and returned to fiddling with your teacup.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. The two present marauders and Lily exchanged glances before turning back towards their friend.

“What for?” Lily asked gently, moving to place a hand on your shoulder. Nobody in the room missed the full body flinch that took place when you spotted a hand coming towards you, which caused Lily’s hand to retreat to her lap.

You sighed heavily again before continuing. “For not recognizing you all.”

“None of that now, gorgeous.” Sirius stated. “You’ve done nothing wrong. You’ll be just fine.”

“Where have you been all this time?” James asked, which was met with a low rumble from Sirius’ throat; a warning that no one in the room missed.

“Prongs, she’s been through hell. Leave her be for now.”

Your eyes flicked between the two men who seemed to be having a silent conversation with their eyes. You looked back to Lily who gave you a crooked smile and a shrug of her shoulders.

“Was your hair shorter when I knew you?” You asked. Sirius tore his eyes away from his best mate and looked into your warm gaze. You looked so inquisitive, and he instantly thought back to the nights that the two of you spent on the astronomy tower where he would point out every constellation and star you could see with your naked eye and tell you their stories; you’d always ask follow-up questions, which he loved because none of your other friends found astronomy to be at all interesting, and he could show off his wealth of knowledge on the topic.

Sirius subconsciously brought his hand up and ran his fingers through his hair. No, he thought, in fact, I’ve cut it quite a bit shorter since the last time I saw you. His hair had always been quite long, especially since he and you became friends back in 4th year. After you passed away - or, disappeared, Sirius supposed – he found it harder and harder to deal with especially when in battle, between needing it to be up elsewise it was in his face, or being easy to grab by enemies. He kept some length, but now the longest pieces came just below his chin.

“I don’t think so, darlin’. Must be thinking of someone else.” He tried to tease, but it came out pained.

Your eyes stayed on Sirius as you analysed him. “My mistake.” You whispered.

It grew incredibly awkward from there. No one knew what to say; you wouldn’t eat or make eye contact with anyone anymore and continued fiddling with your teacup.

“Well, why don’t we leave you to eat up, and you can rest some, hm?” Lily offered, looking around the room at the others. James immediately nodded his head in agreement, whilst you looked indifferent, and Sirius looked anything but pleased at the prospect of leaving the room you were currently situated in.

“Pads, why don’t you help me make something to eat for the rest of us, and we can come check back on Y/N a little later.” She offered.

Sirius kept his gaze on you; you seemed concerned, though he didn’t know what about – were you worried they’d stay? That they’d leave? Were you worried that they wouldn’t come back?

“Alright,” He offered Lily, “I’ll be back shortly, okay?” He added for your benefit. You looked up at that, appearing to analyze him as he moved to the door whilst keeping eye contact.

“Okay.” You whispered, and everyone shuffled out of the room.

“Fuck.” He breathed as the door clicked shut behind him.

The three friends moved back to the kitchen where Sirius did indeed help Lily make more sandwiches while James began to pace the kitchen behind them.

“Spit it out Prongs, we’ve not got all day.” He muttered, tired of his friend’s nervous ticks.

“Listen, mate,” James started awkwardly, “I just want you to be careful.”

Sirius looked at him incredulously. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, with Y/N.” He clarified, which for Sirius clarified absolutely nothing.

“What are you on about?”

“Okay.” James breathed. “Listen, I’m just worried - about all of us, okay? Vix included. I mean, she was as on deaths door the last I saw her and-”

“Yeah, and you fucking left her there.” Sirius spat quietly. James’s face pained considerably, the guilt and memories clear on his face. It wasn’t fair of Sirius, he knew that. You made that choice for the both of them; he saw James’ memory of that moment with his own eyes - hell, he was there when a distraught James dropped into the safe house via portkey without you.

“I know, I...” James started but was interrupted this time by Lily.

“Sirius, we both know how stubborn our girl is. Nothing would have changed that outcome.” She offered him quietly.

“I shouldn’t have interrupted James.” Sirius bit out, knowing he was out of line but not willing to apologize for his words.

“We believed her to be dead for months, and then all of a sudden, she quite literally drops out of the fucking sky and remembers nothing. I’m not saying she’s chosen a side or anything, but I cannot help but be worried. This feels like a trap.”

James’ words hung in the air, Sirius never breaking eye contact with him. Sirius’ stares could be intense which was extremely intimidating. While James was undoubtedly uncomfortable, he needed Sirius to understand his concerns. You were a potential threat whether you were aware of it or not, and you were currently living in his house alongside his family.

“So, what? You think she’s been turned a spy? That she’s been sent to destroy us from the inside out? After all this time?” Sirius asked incredulously.

“I don’t know what to think, Pads. All I’m saying is that I’m scared and for all our sakes, I need you to be careful.”

“You want her out.” Sirius spat.

“No.” Lily and James chorused.

“Sirius no, I want my best friend here, with me where I can help her.." Lily started. "That’s not what this is about. Maybe I’m being naïve, but I don’t think she’s a danger to us. I want her here, Sirius. I need her here.”

James looked at his wife, disagreement written all over his face, but it was joined with acceptance and understanding. You were his friend too; he spent summers and full moons and missions with you, and he wouldn’t trade any of it. Well, he’d leave the missions happily behind but hoped one day that you could spend the first two together again. But he had a war to win and a family to protect, and right now, that had to come first.

The three friends were interrupted by a silvery whisp of a phoenix travelling into the room. The Phoenix whistled three times, waited four seconds and let out one long whistle before adding five short whistles and then disappeared.

“Dumbledore wants a meeting.” James translated.

“I bet it’s all about how your ex-partner is a big fat spy, Prongs.” Sirius muttered.

“Enough.” Lily remarked. “None of this right now, let’s just get her through tonight.”

Lily sat a few sandwiches onto the table.

“I just wish we could get her to a healer; see what could be causing the amnesia.” She murmured miserably.

“What do you think it could be?” James prodded.

“I’m not sure. Many things can cause amnesia - malevolence or injury, perhaps. If it’s due to a malevolent curse or she’s been obliviated or imperio’d or something, maybe we can reverse it. If it’s an injury... well I’m not sure. Brains are tricky but maybe it can be healed, or I don’t know...” She trailed off frustrated. In her mind, it was either that her friend had been being cursed, or she sustained a brain injury that may not be able to be fixed.

“Maybe it’s something else, Red. We’ll find a way to fix this.” Sirius offered quietly, reaching for her hand across the table which she met. She smiled at him for a few moments.

“She really is the better part of you, isn’t she?” James interrupted.

“How do you mean?” He asked, moving his eyes and soft smile to James who he regarded a little cooler.

“Being all reasonable and optimistic. You’re giving Haz a run for his money being the most optimistic in the family, and he’s ignorant to anything that doesn’t fit in his mouth.” James clarified.

“Classy Prongs,” Sirius muttered. “Jokes at the expense of your own sprog when he’s not even awake to defend himself.”

The three friends chuckled, allowing some of the tension to dissipate from the room. Sirius would let it go for now, but he was less than pleased with his friend’s accusation. But James just wanted to protect his family, and that included Sirius and you, whether Sirius understood that or not.

Sirius rapped at the door gently. “It’s just me, erm, Sirius.” The door opened a crack, and he poked his head in. “Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head which he took as an invitation. He closed the door gently behind himself before he returned to the wingback chair he had settled in earlier. He had his own cup of tea and half a sandwich on a plate.

“Lily’s going to bring us some more tea later, maybe with some sleeping draught. Do you think you’ll need help sleeping tonight?” He said.

“You’re asking my permission?” You asked, which caused Sirius to nearly choke on his tea.

He looked at you incredulously for a moment. “Of course, I am. It’s your choice”

You seemed to think about that for a moment. “Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea, to have an aid.” You admitted finally.

He considered this. “Very well, we’ll get that brewed for you.”

Sirius continued to watch you. You fiddled with the hem of the sweatshirt you were wearing, which he recognized to be one of Lily’s. Lily, the beautiful Amazonian woman she was, meant the outfit was far too big for your smaller frame, especially with how much you had seemed to hollow out since Sirius last saw you. That’s okay, he reminded himself, we’ll get her all fixed up. He made a mental note to try to find what clothes of yours he still had at his and Moony’s flat. He suddenly felt simultaneously embarrassed and grateful he kept most of your old things, only donating what you hadn’t used in the past year and a half before you went missing. Remus had suggested placing some of his and Sirus’ favourites of yours in what muggles called Ziploc baggies which basically cast a stasis charm on it to keep it fresh. It may sound weird, but for Padfoot and Moony, both of them understood how comforting someone’s scent could be, and he was willing to look ‘weird’ for the sake of keeping what little of you that he could. He’d go shopping as well, to replace what he had given away. Maybe even get you a whole new wardrobe - when you were feeling better, you could come with him, pick out your own things.

Thinking about you feeling better, he looked up at you and noticed how not better you were. Your eyebrows were furrowed as if you were in pain, your knee was bouncing underneath you, and you kept looking at the doors.

“What is it, love? What’s wrong?” He asked, pushing his plate and cup aside and rising to kneel in front of you.

You looked at him, startled at first, before tears welled up in your eyes.

He remembered your flinch at Lily’s hand, so once he was on his knees, he slowly raised his hands and motioned for yours all while maintaining eye contact. You looked between his hands and his eyes for a moment before you lifted your hands into his. He wondered if you could hear his heartbeat as it bounced around in his chest. Your skin still felt cold – though he remembered that you always seemed to run colder than he did.

“What’s wrong love?” He asked again.

You began to cry in earnest. “I...” you choked out.

“You can tell me, it’s alright.” He offered.

“I have to pee!” You whispered through a sob. “I’m sorry.” You added. Sirius scrunched his eyebrows at you. Had this been anyone else, he would have started to laugh. But you seemed thoroughly distraught right now; your knee was still bouncing, and you looked so pained.

“Okay, that’s okay. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He offered. You made a disgruntled sound.

“Have you been waiting this whole time?” He asked. You cried some more and nodded.

“Oh love, okay. Come on.” He began to stand and used your hands that were still in his to pull you up. You stumbled a bit, but he steadied you.

You made your way to the bathroom, and he sat you on the toilet. “Do you, erm, are you okay to do...what you need to do, by yourself?” He asked awkwardly. You nodded quickly.

“Okay.” He smiled at you. “I’ll be just outside this door, okay?” He said as he backed out of the washroom. He closed the door, and he could hear you shuffling as you pulled down your trousers.

Merlin. She was nearly in a fit over asking to use the loo. Why would she wait to ask to go?

Sirius aggressively wiped his face, feeling tears burn his eyes. He heard the click of a door and moved his hands, expecting to see you but was surprised as Lily entered the bedroom.

“Hey. How’s she doing?” She asks as she peered around the room trying to spot her friend.

Sirius sighed. “She almost let her bladder burst waiting to be told she could use the loo.” He stated plainly.

“Oh Vix...” Lily tutted as she leaned against the back of the couch which faced the bathroom door. Sirius moved to join her.

“She’s open to a sleeping draught for tonight.” He offered. Lily just hummed.

“What are we doing to do, Pads?” She asked after some time.

“Be patient as hell, I guess.” He answered.

Lily chuckled and nudged Sirius with her shoulder. “Patience. A Sirius Black special.”

Lily watched as Sirius smirked and looked back at the bathroom door. Lily was right, of course; he was never very patient. He wasn’t the kind one of the group, he wasn’t always very understanding, and he surely wasn’t the patient one. He was loud, he was angry, he was crass, and he never slowed down, not for anyone. Except for her she remembered.

(Five summers ago)

The group of them had been getting ready to head to the Potter’s for a few weeks in the summer between 6th and 7th year; you had asked to be picked up last so that you didn’t hold everyone up. Sirius and James picked Lily up first, ever the timely one. They stopped at Remus’ next, who was mostly ready, but ran back inside four times as the others listed off things he may have forgotten. “Toothbrush?” Lily asked. “Fuck.” Remus muttered as he ran back inside the Lupin cottage. He emerged victorious with his toothbrush in hand.

“First thing we’re doing when we get to the manor is jumping in the lake. It’s too bloody hot today.” James muttered, which caused Remus to groan as he went back inside.

“Moooooonnyyyyyyy.” Sirius whined as his friend disappeared.

This happened two more times for his sandals a a pair of sunglasses which was met with a lot of whining from Sirius before they were ready to go.

Next stop was Peter’s house; they were met by Peter’s mother who showed them to his room which was nothing short of a disaster.

“Peter Pettigrew!” She shrilled at him from the door. “You are not to leave this room like this, do you hear me young man?!” She demanded as she started down the hallway.

“Great, now we have to wait for him to finish packing and clean his bloody room.” Sirius muttered as he kicked Peter’s school bag aside to sit on his desk chair.

“Wormy, you knew we were coming and what time. In fact, we’re late. How are you not ready?” Remus asked incredulously, trying to help Peter fold his clothes and put it in his bag as the kid continued running around his room throwing things on his bed which was deemed to be the ‘pack’ pile.

“’Cause he’s a wanker, that’s why.” Sirius muttered none-too-quietly from his moping spot in the desk chair which earned him a flick in the head from James.

“Now, now, Pads. We’ll make it home eventually.” He chuckled.

“Listen, I’m sweaty, I’ve been travelling around all of the UK picking up you knob heads and we still have one stop. I wanna gooooooooo.” He whined petulantly.

“Okay well you can whine all you want to Vixen since she’s our last stop then. Maybe she’ll feel bad for you.” Lily offered, zipping up Peter’s first of three bags he ended up leaving with.

Entirely too long later, they travelled to a spot close to your house and began the trek, the sun still high in the sky and accosting Sirius.

“Too bloody hot for this.” He muttered to himself as he knocked a little impolitely on your door. A few moments later, a frazzled looking you swung the door open and looked at your five friends.

“Oh God, here we go.” Lily muttered as she was sure Sirius’ whining was going to continue at the lack of a packed bag in your hand. She was completely astounded however when he rushed inside and shut the door behind him, leaving his four other friends outside. The said friends shared a bemused look before leaning their ears against the door.

“What’s the matter?” Sirius asked the girl gently. They heard a small sniffle.

“I’m sorry Siri. I’m not ready. I slept through my alarms and then I had to do laundry and the washing machine is giving me problems and my dad is away for work so I had to make sure everything was set up because the cats will be alone for the rest of the week and I’m not ready and I’m sorry.” You finished taking a long breath which sounded like it was close to becoming a sob.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Not a problem at all love, come on. Let’s get you packed up. We’ve got time.” Sirius could be heard saying before your sets of footsteps moved further into the house.

“‘We’ve got time’ he says.” Peter muttered, mimicking his friend as he kicked a pebble.

“There’s always time for Vix, Wormy. You know this.” James said as he winked at Peter and slung his arm over Lily.

(Present)

Lily and Sirius heard water running and knew you were finished. They waited for a few moments but when you never exited the bathroom, they shared a quick glance.

Sirius moved up to the door and gently knocked. “You okay?” As he waited for a response, he made eye contact with Lily.

“Yeah.” You answered through the door.

“Are you done?”

You were silent for a moment before you answered, “yes.”

Lily and Sirius looked at each other again for a moment. “I’m gonna open the door then, alright?” He didn’t receive an answer, so opened the door slowly.

You were leaning your weight against the bathroom sink and had your arms wrapped around yourself protectively.

“Feel better?” Sirius asked gently, offering you his hand.

You looked from his hand to his eyes. “Yes. Thank you.” You said as gently took his hand. He placed your arm in his and helped you towards the bed on the other side of the room.

“No need to thank me, love.” He offered as he helped you up onto the bed. It seemed to be a little too high for you, and Sirius made a note to put a step stool here for you tomorrow.

“Y/N, the bathroom is there for you whenever. No one else will use it. If you ever need help, you can let me know, okay?” Lily offered.

“Anything,” Sirius added solemnly, lifting the duvet for you to climb in under. “You can ask for anything, okay?”

You fiddled with the duvet and quilt after it was set on top of your lap.

“Is there anything you can think of now that you want or need?” He asked, ducking his head to try to look into your eyes.

You searched his eyes, the silver gaze so familiar against his black hair.

Sirius was about to give up and look to Lily when you finally answered. “I don’t think so.”

He smiled gently at you. “That’s alright. I’ll think of lots of things for you.”

“I’m sure Pads already has a list compiled.” Lily snorted from the end of the bed.

“As a matter of fact, my dear Red, I do.” He smirked at her as he began tidying up the room.

“She’ll need some clothes...” Lily started.

“Already on it. And we’re gonna get a stool so she doesn’t have to haul herself up into that tall ass bed. We’ll get her the shampoo she likes; we can’t let those locks suffer.” He added with a wink in your direction.

Lily took the dishes Sirius had collected and brought them to the kitchen where she began the tea just as Remus came back in through the front door with a box in his hands.

“This is about two weeks of dreamless sleep if she needs one every night. I can get more if she needs it.” He said as he placed the box on the kitchen table.

“Thank you, Rem, I’m sure this will be a great help.” She smiled at her friend before kissing his cheek.

“How’s he holding up?” He asked. She knew he was worried about his roommate.

Sirius’ feelings for you have never been quiet nor simple. In fairness to her friend, he had always lived with his heart on his sleeve; his feelings written all over his face. His love for you had always been palpable. They thought they were going to lose him when they lost you, and in some ways, they did. They lost the slightly gentler side of Sirius, the side that would give pause when his friends needed it, who tried to see the good in everybody first.

His better half was back, but not really. Sirius wasn’t usually able to live by halves and they wondered how this would play out while they waited for you to remember something, anything.

“He’s hanging in there. He’s been really strong for her.” She answered gently as the tea pot started to whistle. Remus hummed in acknowledgment.

“She always was the strong one for us, when it mattered most. Seems fitting he returns the favour.” He admitted.

The sleeping draught tea made, Lily re-entered the bedroom with Remus where they found Sirius setting up the couch with a pillow and some blankets.

“Having yourself a slumber party here, Pads?” Remus asked lightly.

“Yeah, I think I’ll stay here for tonight, keep our guest company. Try not to miss me too much, alright Moony?” He offered cajolingly, but Remus and Lily knew; he wouldn’t be leaving your side any time soon, not unless you asked him to.

Continue to part 2 here.

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