#folks with DID usually have it though
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rielzero · 11 months ago
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Dissociative Amnesia and what it does (Yes this post is also about Astarion)
TRIGGER WARNING: I discuss how Trauma affects your memory and my experience with it.
This post is specifically about amnesia surrounding the self, there is a variant to this type of amnesia that erases the access to a bad memory or collection of memories itself. A quick google search will tell you;
Dissociative amnesia involves not being able to recall information about oneself (not normal forgetting). This amnesia is usually related to a traumatic or stressful event and may be: localized – unable to remember an event or period of time (most common type)
Hi! I have CPTSD, and as a result of a lot of life events I experienced, I have dissociative amnesia. I wrote in detail about my experience with bad memory in a much older post: This one here. I recommend you read it as I'll skip over some things explained in more detail there.
In DND lore, Elves use meditation to recall memories of oneself, they do not require sleep and have different physiology when it comes to rest. Spiritual physiology counts here too, since Elves reincarnate. This lore is explained better on the forgotten realms wiki.
I've seen a lot of posts going over Astarion's line when you ask him about himself after the vampire reveal.. Instead of the magistrate thing he will mention that 200 years of torture leave little to remember.
Now, this- as someone who has cptsd is a thing I recognize very well. If you take in consideration that elves at a certain point meditate memories of their years and eventually past lives- when next you are being tortured and disconnected from your past lives by becoming undead, your most recent memories will be those decades and decades just torture. When you are in a place of misery- you will lose connection to good memories, or distant memories. The worse something is, the more precedent that memory becomes- It's a survival thing. ''This is the bad thing, we must avoid'' and you might relive it at random, without knowing why exactly. Astarion says so himself. What's 39 elf years vs 200 years of being undead and put through pure hell? (Still unclear on what Astarion's actual age is, but I'm not going into that, I had another post for this.)
Please know: This does not mean you have permanent memory loss- you lose attachment and association to good memories. One day can be a nightmare, but something good could also have happened that same week. When you're traumatized by repeated events unfortunately the repetitive ''bad thing'' will be prioritized by your survival instinct and shock you more if you are continuously exposed to it in a dangerous environment. The longer you are in an unsafe environment, the more your association to good things becomes detached. You develop coping mechanisms and behaviors, avoidance, bias. We see this in Astarion and how he treats the player when they meet. He's in a situation he feels incredibly unfamiliar with- so he falls back on daggers and threats. Manipulative charm comes afterwards. His coping mechanisms of course, have been discussed in more detail by others on this platform. Now to the memory thing; from my own experience with randomly remembering stuff once I got out of the ''unsafe'' environment for a long time, once your body feels settled or secure.. Things just come back. Either its a nightmare flashback that you need to process slowly, because you haven't had time for it while you felt unsafe, or it can be the ''good'' or the ''normal'' memories too.
I personally headcanon and believe- that 200 years alone of torture don't necessarily erase ''39'' years of something else. I have been in ''unsafe'' environment for most of my life, since I was a kid. Once I hit 21, when I finally felt safe things just started popping up in my head. Both bad and good. I might not be an immortal long living creature, but I am still having random memories flood back these days.
It's very alienating at times to see your old self through that lens that you often don't recognize that person as someone that was you. Simply because you've outgrown it or you've matured. Your brain has distanced you from it because there was no space to even think of it.
I still experience horrible short term memory and frequent recollective ability malfunction. (Basically I struggle with routines or storing information I have not been able to process thoroughly.) Memory loss happens to me all the time and it is more inconvenient to me than it is to anyone who's annoyed by it..
Now imagine either ending route of Astarion, (Wether spawn or ascended) finally settling down in a place of peace, and he goes and meditates. Sometimes he dreams of torture again, and eventually after a while.. He remembers his parents, he remembers an old friend.. He remembers being bullied at school, he remembers a lover he cheated on.. He just starts remembering his life before the torture. Just bit by bit- very small things. And it's like.. It feels like A completely different person to him.
That's what it was like for me. Sometimes out of nowhere, I will recall something I said, or did in my youth. Something outside of the shitty things I went through. And sometimes I'll remember things that were done to me and realize.. That was wrong, and someone should've said something about it. Sometimes I'll remember something incredibly cringe I did as a kid and just cringe about it again. Eugh. I don't always remember the trauma and only the trauma. I'd remember things outside of it too, just not as frequent.
CPTSD doesn't always ''trigger'' your brain might not associate the memories with anything. They just pop up casually like ''hi! I exist! U feel safe?? WELL NOW-'' It's annoying and distressing sometimes.
Even the color or shape of something might just quietly nudge your mind.. ''Oh hey here's this image'' there's not always telling were it comes from. It might just happen, because.
And it takes time to heal too, remembering is a part of healing. Remembering your past both good and bad. Some people don't heal from it though, and instead dive deeper and deeper into the misery. They feel more unsafe than they did before.
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neunhofferart · 1 month ago
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Howdy, Heidi! You said that some fans picked up things that were done on accident… Were there more scenes like that? Also, were there scenes that you guys made on purpose but fans didn’t pick up / were aware of them? In shipping terms (hihi) and in general terms. Thanks!
I think in every type of media you will inevitably see versions of 'authorial' intent vs audience interpretation that overlap and differ from each other in many ways. (Authorial intent in quotes because in collaborative mediums like film and animation every single person on the pipeline who touches the work probably has a slightly different personal interpretation they're contributing to the final work, even under someone like a showrunner or a director).
Humans are smart and it's in our nature to look for connections and find explainations to questions, so most of the time if someone is putting something down, someone is going to pick it up, so to speak, and a lot of things ARE on purpose.
But this same phenomenon can also lead to us seeing connections in places that even the 'authors' might not have originally thought of while creating the work, and I think that can be pretty neat actually! I don't necessarily think reading alternate interpretations of works is wrong-- it can be very healthy to explore multiple reads of a narrative or a character/character dynamic. On Chaos Theory there were definitely times when we were like 'fans are probably gonna ship this even if it's not the text' haha. Sometimes fans latch onto headcanons you really have no control over. Sometimes things were animated slightly differently from how they were conceived (which is also a natural part of things).
But yes, sometimes I have seen a few other things that were interpreted in slightly different ways from how they were directed or written verbally, but I'm personally of the opinion that it's more fun to leave some things visual and open to a little interpretation rather than beating the words over the audience's head and having the characters constantly announcing 'I'm feeling this because of this!' And going 'this is the only way to interpret the show and the characters and if you don't you're wrong!'
It's usually not a huge deal. I think even as we were working sometimes I'd make connections to myself that weren't necessarily spelled out to us and go 'oh, this is a throughline for this character actually!'
Like for example- if I remember correctly, the original direction behind how Kenji reacted to Ben's apparent death was that it was supposed to the first time he'd ever seen someone he really KNEW seemingly die right front of him, and being unable to do anything about it deeply affected him. Ben is a very important turning point in his character development regardless of which way you read it.
And I think this is actually something that just continued to stack onto his character throughout both shows whenever any of his friends lives are seriously in danger. In Camp when he's still unable to do anything but comfort Sammy while she's poisoned, to deciding it's too dangerous not to trade Wu's laptop for Brooklynn, to eventually throwing himself between the spinosaurus his dad is about to kill Darius with and choosing his friends over his own father and being willing to die with/for them... and then in Chaos Theory it kind of reboots all over again with Brooklynn dying and then his dad dying right in front of him, and his complex of not wanting to be useless and trying to do whatever he can at the expense of even himself to keep the loved ones he has left safe is kicked into overdrive.
I think there are a lot of things like that where the intent is not always verbally spelled out, but the more important thing is that it's still (hopefully) making you feel something.
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gender-euphowrya · 6 months ago
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my therapist telling me i'm his point of reference when he deals with other trans patients
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#👉👈 it's an honor m'lord#i mean that + the fact that i make sure to always feed him the Most open-minded takes i can incorporate in conversation#like just today he was like ''i wanted to ask you about this i saw there were women growing beards and deciding to keep them''#and i was like. yeah that's a thing ! good for them ! if they're happy that way it's all good !#and he was like ''isn't it kinda weird though like they're really feminine but they have a beard which is usually masculine?''#and i was like hmm! not really ! it's just not something we're used to seeing so it can seem odd at first but it's harmless!#and he went Yeah you're right maybe it just seemed weird to me because it's unusual#and i like mentally went 😎🤏 got'em. teaching this guy to be okay with other people one topic at a timeeeee#in any case it's just. really cool to know that like... i'm indirectly helping other trans folks ?#at the same time i want to make sure he understands that My personal experience with being trans isn't universal#it's not ''This is how you trans'' like. what's working for me rn may not work for someone else and it's fine#so i always make sure to throw in little reminders that every trans person will want different things for themselves#some will need medical transitions some Won't some will need ''all'' surgeries some Won't some will need them done quickly some Won't#some will feel This way about their egg selves some will feel That way about their egg selves etc#simultaneously Yes please do use your experience working with me to work with other trans people#but No please don't think they are all going to be like me or should do things the way i did them
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skeletalheartattack · 2 years ago
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WATCH MS. PAC-MAN DANCE
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WATCH MS. PAC-MAN DANCE
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chuuurls · 2 years ago
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check this shit out https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WAyujUSF9Ps
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video dated 2009
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So I found this CD on the street today on my way to work, right? So I decided I’d bring it home and listen to it.
And it was the best decision I’ve ever made in my life.
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inknopewetrust · 6 months ago
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𝐎𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐬
summary: after facing embarrassment from Aegon’s intrusive visit, Sylvi helps Aemond find attraction with someone closer to his own age. [aemond x fem!reader] [wc: 5.0k]
warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), hand job, fingering, voyeurism/exhibitionism, aemond’s abuse by her is not tolerated here 🙂‍↔️, HotD themes.
quick links: masterlist | gif credit: @seaside-storm
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The sounds of the Silk Streets in the early hours of morning were not for the faint of heart.
You had grown accustomed to them over the years of your residency—the noises, the people, the actions and wants of those who seek the services of an establishment like the one Sylvi ran.
It was not your proudest achievement; not one you’d shout from the rooftops but one that kept the food on the table.
It wasn’t hard. It was sex. And you learned to enjoy it with what little freedom was left when the coins were tossed and your body was aching.
Between your fingers one of those coins twirled absentmindedly as the curtains of your bedding swished at the retreat of your latest payer. There were seldom benefits from the occupation you took up yet the pay, after years of understanding and learning, had grown exponentially.
And the coin that tossed between your fingertips was enough to put food on the table for a few days; enough to buy a dress or to get passage to another town.
It was a reward for service you did not mind.
Sylvi had taught you what you needed to know. How to move, how to pleasure. She helped you determine what felt good and what would feel unpleasant to both you and a partner.
But she had her transgressions far beyond the positive.
One of them stalked the building in a fume.
The laughter that had propagated such anger left an hour ago but the remnants of the jesters stuck heavy in the air. They opened curtains and made spectacles of the givers and the receivers; they stared too long at you in the nude to make you feel at ease.
In the distance, you heard your name called yet you continued to flip the coin.
Aegon, the King as he was now, was no friend to the servants of pleasure. You consider yourself fortunate that he never sought you—as desirable, as insatiable, as you were.
It saved you from a world of hurt from a man as fickle as he was.
Although his reputation preceded him and the ire that still held itself like a cloud over the house was from his head, his brother, Aemond, was a welcome guest.
Though he too was someone you had not laid with either.
He had never lingered far from the woman of the house.
“Y/N.”
Said woman pulled back the curtain of your bed roughly. Against the pillows and covered in a robe the color of a midnight black, you lazily gazed at her.
“Did you not hear me call?” Sylvi asked impatiently. Her irritation was stinging.
“I was busy, Madame,” you responded loosely.
You arched your back and with it came cracks of relaxation. It felt good after being holed up in your bed for two hours.
“You know how Dornish men are,” you informed her. “That one was quite… spirited at this late hour.”
“What happy news for you,” she panned before nodding her head in the direction of her usual hideaway. “I seek a favor.”
“A favor?” You questioned with a mewl.
“It is for the one we do not speak of.”
Sylvi’s eyes gave you a warning. Aemond Targaryen… the one who fumed.
She had never asked for a favor regarding the Prince before and it intrigued you. It would fall a lie if you spoke of never having imagined what a man like him would be like in your bed.
He was a magnificent creature.
Tall and carved from the marble of a great sculptor, Prince Aemond was no stranger to the gazes of the pleasure folk. The way their eyes shined and pupils grew large, you were surely one of them.
It did not hurt that he was no more than the age you were now and had not yet taken a wife.
It was silly, however, to imagine a whore being the wife of a Prince. He had barely sparred you glances when he visited.
Dreams. That is all that it would remain.
“And you seek me?” You questioned, dropping the coin on your clothed stomach.
“I have a proposition for you,” she clarified. “One that will pay you well for your service.”
“The receiver is willing?”
“Yes.”
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Her alcove was far nicer than yours.
Lavish with silken pillows and warm candlelight, it was near romantic if you forgot the circumstances of her actions. It smelt of lavender and oils; the kind she wanted throughout the establishment but could only create the corner she wanted here.
It was the first time you had been invited into the space.
Sylvi walked around you as you stood just inside of the curtains. She held the tassel of her robe between her fingertips, swinging it gently.
“We do not speak on what happens here, understood?” She asked you.
“I understand, Madame.” She nodded her head in approval.
“Good,” Sylvi affirmed.
On a ledge behind the bed, she grabbed a small sack of coins and tossed them to you. It landed with a jingle at the edge of the bed.
With delicate hands you grasped the strings and pulled open the bag to see coins worth the entire building. You dropped it, looking at Sylvi with wide eyes.
“T-This… this is far too much,” you scoffed.
“It is what the Prince offered,” she spoke as if the currency was nothing more than what the common folk paid.
There had to have been 10 gold dragons inside of the pouch.
The total jostled you.
You had long understood that the job you took on was ill-inspired. The money you had made was reasonable and never made you feel ashamed to take it.
But this… the currency enough to buy twenty horses; enough to buy a home or sail to Essos with no intention of returning… it did bring shame.
“And for such a currency what does the Prince expect of me? I will not be humiliated—“
“I have no intention of humiliating you.”
The voice cut through glass.
Behind you, with the curtains of Sylvi’s bedding swaying to a gentle close the man of her proposition appeared. You turned around with your mouth agape from the inability to finish your thoughts and as many mortals had before, your mind ceased its thoughts.
He was ethereal, otherworldly.
And he was fully nude.
You stuttered stupidly to greet him.
“P-Prince Aemond,” you managed. “I apologize. I did not intend to speak out of turn.”
He hummed, observing you as you did him. You straightened your back at the sensation. His eye piercing and cold—in a room basked in warmth he was not the bringer of it. Aemond let his mind roam the faults and perfections of your body and needn’t say what it was aloud.
He trusted Sylvi in a twisted way. If she said you were right for the job, surely she would not steer him wrong.
“So,” Aemond’s eye flicked to Sylvi. You took the opportunity to observe the blue gleam of the sapphire that filled the vacancy of his other.
“This is she?”
She introduced your name to him and his eye met yours.
“And the terms have been accepted?”
“They have, My Prince,” you spoke without hesitation.
“Aemond,” he clarified. “You are to call me Aemond.”
You tried his name on your lips and it was breathless. As his eye stalked your body, he took the initiative to take the step forward. The understanding of your willingness emboldened him to bury his brother’s words.
He was seldom humiliated but the reasons he flocked to Sylvi were different from the ones he sought from a willing companion: to release and forget.
Aemond approached you with soft steps and it was suddenly difficult to remember how to breathe. You held your breath, waiting, as his arm extended to you and his fingers brushed the fabric of your robe along your collarbones. He traced the skin with his fingers, along the edges of your robe as the delicate lacing became rough under his fingertips.
He was testing the waters.
You remained focused on his face as your heart rate began to increase. Every thump faster aligned with the draws of his fingers; long and nimble, softer than the men you were used to on days as long as these.
He was fluid and natural. There was no scared boy inside of him, but the hardened man he wanted the world to see.
Sylvi rounded her bed and you were reminded that she was still there as she looked at you.
“Touch her, Aemond. Touch her as you do in your dreams.”
At her command, his hand stilled. You half-thought her demands had sent him into a spiral of regret. Perhaps he would apologize for his lustful responses, scurrying away and back into the pit of dragon’s he came from.
Instead of listening to her in haste, he asked you a question.
“Where are you from?”
You were taken aback but remained stoic. Your job was to put on a performance no matter how surprising his words felt. No patron had ever asked you about, well, you.
You were nothing more than an orifice for their wanton needs.
“Honeyholt,” you responded quietly.
“Not far from Oldtown,” he commented, tracing the lace but never touching your skin. His hand grazed it until he reached the knot of your robe.
You shook your head, “no.”
“Did you enjoy it there?”
“It was far less exciting than King’s Landing.”
“May I?”
You had never had a patron ask permission before either.
You felt like a girl being dotted on. It was a strange feeling, one that had turned so drastically from a mere thirty minutes before—being treated like a doll to be thrown from one to be pampered… it was not what you were expecting.
“You may, Aemond.”
His finite hands worked the knot swiftly to let the robe fall open. When it did, he let it sit there for a moment as he took in the shape of your breasts underneath the fabric, he could see the mound of your pussy, and the way you stood completely still in wait.
He felt powerful when he normally felt meek.
Sylvi had been right. He did need this.
Aemond could feel the woman’s eyes behind him and whether they were on himself or you he would not know, but he felt them heavy.
He took his hands and pushed the fabric from your shoulders. It pooled around your feet in one push.
You breathed in deeply, nipples pebbling at the coolness now meeting you.
It was obvious, however, that your mere body was not enough to rouse him to hardness. If you spent anymore time watching him as he watched you, the sun would be up and his duties would call him away.
“Touch him,” Sylvi instructed you. “Do not be afraid.”
“I am not afraid,” you responded to her but did not look at her. She took a seat on her bed as you moved to stand toe to toe with Aemond.
“May I touch you?” You asked in the same voice of permission he had given you.
“You may,” and he said your name with a weight hearty on his tongue.
With his permission you reached for his right hand and placed it on your breast. His timidness was beginning to show through the hesitancy of his actions. The slow grip on your breast slowly became more comforting the more time he took.
“It’s alright,” you whispered as though Sylvi was not there and you were alone with the Prince. “You can touch me.”
You felt more pressure from his palm. Drawing your own hand to his chest, you began to feel the outlines of his muscles. Aemond was lean and fit, skinny but not sickly.
Each muscle was tense under your touch. He shuttered a breath through his nose and your hand recoiled in the slightest.
“I apologize,” he spoke as lowly as you had before. “I have not been with another in a long time.”
He had not been with another other than Sylvie in a long time, he meant.
“I can be slow, My Prince.”
“Aemond,” he corrected you.
“Aemond,” you said sheepishly in your forgetfulness.
“I do not need you to be slow.”
You nodded in reply and placed your hand back on his chest. You followed it down until you began to broach the zone in which your talents needed to please not only him, but Sylvi also.
If you were a disappointment, there would be no clothes nor food nor horses nor castles in your future.
“Then I will not go slow, Aemond.”
He hummed, intaking a breath as your fingers gently, kindly, fluttered over his cock. You looked up at him with your eyes hooded, eyelashes batting and he thought for an instance that no woman had ever looked at him that way.
Sylvi hadn’t and it awoke something with him.
You began to work him with your hand as he let his hand fall from your breast and brought it up to the back of your neck. He massaged the space briefly before holding onto you with a tighter grip.
In your hand he began to show himself to you. Growing in length, you licked your lips in anticipation and swallowed the bug that formed in your throat.
“Aemond,” you questioned as you stepped closer. You parted your legs to stand between one of his and he stopped you only by moving his other hand to grip your chin.
He could feel his heart beating out of his chest.
The feel of your hand on his cock was enthralling. So smooth and soft, gripping him in hardness at the right moments but never suffocating and never hurting.
“Yes?” He was near breathless.
You took his response with no words but a shifting of your hand. You left his shaft and snaked your hand to his balls, cupping them the best you could. His staggered breath brought a small, sly smile to your lips as he gripped your chin tighter and his eye narrowed.
“Would—“ in his grip, you could barely get words out. He changed his positioning to hold both sides of your neck. “Would you like to see what I can do with my mouth?”
“It would be a waste to not,” he grunted when your hand put pressure on his balls.
He released your neck and watched as you sank to your knees obediently. In your position, he was reminded of the good and pious that prayed to the Seven. Your eyes were so innocent but your mind wicked; your hands were pleasurable and your words soothing.
It was a change and it was working for him.
You sat with your knees apart, feet against your backside and heels digging into the flesh. You ran your hands down your body as he watched you delicately before running your hands up his legs and resting on his upper thighs.
Placing a soft kiss on one of his thighs, you worked yourself toward his member as it beckoned you. You grasped the base of his cock with your hand, placing a sweet kiss on his ever-swollen head.
You let saliva gather at the front of your mouth and let it dribble out and onto his cock before taking him with your mouth.
Aemond was heavy on your tongue. His warmth was sending electricity from your mouth to your core; you felt the throb of want begin to pool at your center. He took both of his hands and placed them at the top of your head but did not push. He did not force and he allowed you to escape when you needed to breathe.
But he was in another world.
Never had he been taken in such a way but his mind liked playing tricks. It was not his first and when he thought back on the times he had been pleasured as such it was not as enjoyable.
Yet, he forgot her stares and focused on you. A woman closer to his own age and one that had a system of morality of questions and seeking answers in regards to pleasure.
You took his extended gratitude and kindness and returned it with your own.
With every pull of your mouth, you filled the space with what your mouth couldn’t take with your hand. You squeezed at his base and it made him see stars. In your vision you could see him watching if you looked up.
How his blue gem gleamed at you…
As you turned your head and used your salvia and some of his pre-cum that began to leak to wet his shaft, you moaned at the sensation. It sent you tingling, drawing a hand away from his thigh; you brought it between your legs and began to rub circles on your clit.
The wetness gathered quickly. You shut your eyes as the two parts of you, mouth and cunt, were being used to your own delight. As you opened them again, Sylvi caught the corner of your eye.
She rubbed herself over her clothes and you halted. Hand retreating from your body in an instant; the salvia that had gathered landed on your thigh with a splat and your hand loosened what held onto him. Aemond let one of his hands fall loosely beside him as he looked up and kept focus on the wall in front of him.
He needed to change. He had asked her for this change for his own sake and it was time for it to happen.
“Sylvi,” Aemond muttered absentmindedly.
“Yes?” She prompted as if he were to ask her to join the two of you. Her tone made you nervous but he never let his other hand fall from your head.
She went to remove her own robe but he stopped her with a turn of his head.
“Leave us,” he commanded.
Slyvi paused her hands against her body, dejected at Aemond while her eyes bounced between the two of you.
You, your hand still on his cock and your lips barely kissing it. Him, with his hand on your head and mind completely taken by you.
“Aem—“
“Do I have to repeat myself?” He asked her calmly. His heart beat so fast at his strength. Never did he believe he’d be able to breakaway.
“No,” she rose from the bed and made for the entrance.
Your breath was hot on his dick when she stopped again. For one moment Sylvi waited for Aemond to call her back but she was met with silence; a heavy weight of agony as she stood there and received no reply.
It was her retreating footsteps that brought relief to your bones.
Aemond’s other hand returned to your head.
“I did not wish for her to watch us,” he informed you.
You looked up at him from your spot on the floor. Along your chin were remnants of spit or spent, he wasn’t certain. All the same, he took a thumb and gathered it from you. He brought the thumb to his mouth and sucked the gathering from it.
“I did not either.”
“Good,” he hummed. “Now get on the bed.”
You needn’t be asked twice.
Aemond refrained from touching you as you rose from the floor and sat on the bed. Once you were seated, he leaned down to grab your ankle and pushed back on your shoulder to lay down. The message was received quickly and you laid back and brought your other leg bent beside you.
You were completely at his mercy. Your walls clenched around nothing when he ran his hands over the skin of your legs. You extended your arms above your head; feeling the soft silk pillows and coolness of the sheets below your body. The sensations were overwhelming.
“I’ve never been with a woman like you before,” Aemond’s hands roamed further, pulling you down on the bed to meet his body but not entering you.
“And what kind of woman am I?” You sighed contently.
“A kind woman.”
“How do you know me to be kind?” You asked him.
One of his hands feathered the skin between your leg and lips. They grazed it again and this time, running his fingers through where you wanted him most. A selfless breath left your lips.
“Your eyes are kind,” he bent down to lay a kiss on your knee. “There are not many kind eyes here.”
He stuck one finger in, followed by another. Your hand reached for the pillows quickly, back arching at the sensation. You once thought his fingers to be long and nimble but they were much more. You felt them so clearly and cleanly.
They reached within your walls; touching the plushy skin as it grew in wetness and emitted slick sounds of pleasure.
Once he felt you were ready, he wanted to test his third finger.
“Gods,” you stuttered out as his third finger slipped in and it became so quick. He was running away with himself as the sight of your pleasure overtakes him.
“F-fuck.”
The words continued to fall from your lips as he picked up his pace. His fingers moved in and out, in and out, and then a rapid succession of moving them up and down. Your body trembled at the noises. The wet, squelching sound of a mess too far gone.
He may not have been as experienced as other men, but he had ruined you for all in the future.
“That’s it,” he whispered against your thigh again. He bent down to watch you writhe at his actions. “What do you need from me? Hm?” He asked.
“Nothing,” you panted. “Just you Aemond.”
“Just me?” He murmured. “What of my cock? Do you want to feel me inside of you? Finish inside of you?”
The idea sent you spiraling. You imagined how his cock would feel longer and thicker than his fingers. How it would plead against the spot to make you come undone.
“Yes,” you nodded. “I want to know what it feels like.”
He removed his fingers to grasp his length in his hands. Aemond pumped himself briefly before lining his head up with your entrance, gripping your hip as you stayed splayed before him.
And then he slid in.
Seldom could explain the moment but you had seen stars. You saw the galaxies spoken of by the Maester’s and worlds beyond your own. There was no feeling but him filling you so fully and totally.
He shut his eye. The blue sapphire still glittering in the light; Aemond saw peace grow with a gasp. Everything in his mind went blank with white noise. All he could hear was himself as he sheathed himself inside of your warmth with a simple push. He filled you until he could no longer.
It was sinful to feel so good.
He held himself there for a minute. You wanted to sit up, hold his body close to yours and feel his muscles contract under your touch but stay as pliant as possible.
Against your convictions, Aemond leaned forward and cupped your cheek with his hands. It was entirely intimate for a man you had just met.
But his touch lingered lifetimes. It was as if you knew him forever, and this singular moment was one of plenty.
Stilled inside of you, his thumb caressed your bottom lip.
“May I kiss you?” He asked promptly.
You moved your hips in a roll to urge him to move, wrapping your legs around his torso and arms around his shoulders. His lips brushed against yours.
He pulled his hips back and slowly slid himself back in.
You nodded your head the best you could against the sheets and he ticked at you. His nose nudged yours, your lips begging to be touched but he neglected them.
“No,” he cooed. “I need you to say it. Say you want me to kiss you.” Again, he slid out, back in and your hips met him there.
“Kiss me, Aemond. Kiss me, please.”
Pushing his cock deeper into you, your mouth fell agape and he used the opportunity to capture his lips with your own, swallowing your moan and losing himself in your intimacy.
He never thought a woman like you could make him feel so selfless.
Aemond knew nothing of you but felt everything. He needn’t understand the pieces of you to feel the rewards of lust and anger spilling out of him.
His mouth is so warm and wet. Aemond’s tongue danced with yours as your whimpers became gasps with the jacking of his hips into you. Your hands are bruising on his shoulders; grip tight and breaking had you been a stronger woman.
Aemond broke his kisses and moved his hand to your neck. His thumb put pressure on the bottom of your chin, pushing your head backwards and sending your spine arching.
If he took you any further, you’d split yourself in too. You mewled in pleasure and he let out a low chuckle, eyes low and observing as he pounded his cock in your pussy faster.
“Oh,” one of your arms shot up above your head and he took his other hand, the one not on your neck, and intertwined your hands together.
“Do the others fuck you like this?” He hummed.
“No,” you called into the air. “Not everyone is as good as you, My Prince.”
As your eyes met his, you felt your heart exploding. No one would ever hold you like this again. No one would know you in the secrets you shared here—so open and viewable yet shroud in the comfort of veils.
You like this. He knows you do. And fuck, he does too.
“You like being held like a worthy lady,” Aemond purred. “Like you’re not a whore.”
“You like being strong when they underestimate you.”
His hand around your throat tightened but didn’t suffocate you. Aemond’s fingers that intertwined with your own stayed together as he changed his speed. Slowing down and drawing his dick out to the tip and stuffing you again, he snickered.
“You are not weak.”
“No,” he narrowed his eye. “I’m not.”
“In here,” you groaned. “In here you can be anyone, Aemond.”
He knew it to be true.
Instead of responding with a smart retort or a scathing comment that would rival one of his brothers, he nodded his head and let it fall in the crook of your neck.
Within you, his solemn romanticism built a fire. It was aching; clenching your walls around him as your breaths became more heated and laced with a finish. His skin on yours glistened with sweat the more strenuous your meetings became.
You were holding onto a thin string when he lifted his head again and planted a kiss on your lips.
So personal, so intimate from what you were used to.
“I-“ you barely got a syllable out before your body shook with your orgasm hitting you like a brick through a glass window. Aemond removed his hand on your neck to grip your back as your body lifted from the sheets.
Your cunt had his cock in a vice. So tight and smooth with your wetness, he felt the stuttering sensation of his own building in a quick anticipation and as the shaking in your legs began to lessen, he pulled out of your pussy without warning and pumped himself before spilling his spent on your stomach.
Your eyes saw stars on the ceiling of the brothel. Aemond kissed between your breath as his fingers swiped through his cum. He drew a line from your stomach, between your breasts, and to your lips. You took his fingers covered in him into your mouth and licked him clean.
Once there was nothing left, his wet fingers palmed your breast with a sigh. You untangled your combined fingers and gingerly outlined the bottom of his scar.
He leaned into your touch absentmindedly before eagerly kissing you again.
Aemond would never confess why he did it.
It was an urge he had never felt; built in the emotions of his mind as he was wrapped in your kind embrace and away from the world that had created the cruelness that lived with him. You were not cruel. You were good and a sanctimonious creature at his alter of wavering faith.
You revived him.
And he barely knew you.
When he pulled away, you brushed a hand over his disheveled hair and smiled.
The feeling within him was foreign but it was hungry. He hungered for the bubbled nature of want that brewed in his bones. Aemond sought the feel of your hands on him and the way you settled in his motions without complaint or verbally assuring him what he was doing was “good for him,” when in reality, he knew it was not.
So in turn, when you smiled, so did he.
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A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you.
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cy-cyborg · 8 months ago
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Hey, able-bodied folks, if a disabled person is complaining about something being unfair/inaccessible because of our disabilities, you know you don't have to explain to us why that unfairness/inaccessibility a thing, right? Chances are we know it is the way it is. It's still unfair and we still want to talk about it.
I saw a video by an amputee warning other disabled people not to go to Thorpe Park in England, as they paid full price to enter, but were only allowed on 3 rides due to their amputation. This is something I also experienced when I went to the Gold Coast (mostly at Movie World, Wet n' Wild and, to a lesser extent, Dreamworld) and at Lunar Park in Sydney. There were also several others in the comments talking about similar experiences elsewhere.
But among these comments were dozens of people saying, "it's for health and safety reasons! The ride won't be able to hold you in!" And like... yeah, we know why. It doesn't make it any less unfair that we pay the same as you for a fraction of the experience. It doesn't make it feel any less shitty when you scrimp and save to do something like go to a theme park only to have to sit on the side line and watch your friends/family have fun without you. It doesn't make it any less scummy that there's very little warning that this will be the case (most of the time) until you arrive. It doesn't make it any less frustrating that so many recreational and fun activities don't even consider the possibility that disabled people would want to join in.
It's not just this video. It happens a lot. Any time someone complains about inaccessibility, there's always someone there trying to explain why the inaccessibility is there.
A resteraunt or shop isn't accessible? "Have you considered the person just didn't know/didn't have the money to fix it/were renting and weren't allowed to fix it?"
You called to see if some place was accessible, were told it was but when you arrive, it's not? "Have you considered the person didnt actually know/ thought it was and just made a mistake?"
You complain that a device/item/furniture item you bought isn't usable because of your disability despite there being no indication this would be the case before you bought it/no way to further verify it before hand? "Have you considered that disabled people make up such a small minority of their buyers they just didn't realise?"
Yeah, we know. Every single one. We considered it. a lot more than you did, i promise. We know why. We know sometimes mistakes happen, people don't think to consider us, there could be health and safety reasons for the lack of access, that people just don't know, and that it's not usually maliciousness or intentional ableism. I promise, we know all of it. We still need to talk about it though, so things can get better.
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motorsportbarbie13 · 1 month ago
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Christmas Showdown
In which you and Lando run into an ex-boyfriend while you're home for the holidays.
Warnings: talk of abusive relationship (no details though). Established relationship. Protective Lando. This could probably be better and it's pretty short buttttttt I needed to get this out of my head, so enjoy! Pairing: Lando Norris x Girlfriend!Reader Word Count: 1.8k words
Master List
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It had been several years since you spent the holidays in your small Midwestern hometown. Usually, your family flew out to London or Monaco to spend the holiday’s with you there, much preferring to leave Michigan’s several feet of snow that was typically on the ground during Christmas. This year was different thought. Your grandmother had been too ill to make the long flight so instead, you came to them. Which was fine with you, you had missed seeing friends that were home for the holidays and missed the nostalgic nights spent around the Christmas tree with your family. The one person who was not fine with it, however, was your boyfriend. 
Lando Norris simply hated the cold. He hated being cold. Hated thinking about the cold. Hated the snow. Anytime the temperature dipped below 50 degrees Fahrenheit ( which also a fight you two had often was how he refused to learn the difference between Fahrenheit and Celsius while also simultaneously refusing to do the same for him.) So you knew he must really be down bad for you when he had agreed (albeit a bit sluggishly) to spend the Christmas holiday with you in your (freezing) hometown. 
There was minimal complaining for the first few days you were at home, mostly because it the weather was fair enough to not be something comparable to the North Pole, but trouble arose the day of your Aunt and Uncle’s infamous Christmas party. The first sign of trouble was your brother’s insistence on a family outing to the sledding hill that was a few miles from your house. Of course Lando had packed several parkas but when he had seen the Canada Goose store in the mall the day before, he had bought the thickest, best cold rated puffer jacket he could find. Despite that and several layers of long johns and sweaters, by the time you reached the sledding hill your poor boyfriend was shivering like your grandma’s ancient chihuahua. 
To his credit though, there was not one single utterance of a complaint or plea to go back to your parents house for a cup of hot chocolate then entire time. Lando happily chased your nieces and nephews around the sledding hill and even went down the hill a few times with you. 
“Okay, folks!” Your dad calls out as the afternoon sun hangs low in the sky. “I think it’s time we all head home and get ready for Judy and Steve’s party tonight. I expect everyone to be at their house by 7pm sharp!” The ‘this reminder is for your benefit’ look that your dad sends you has your already wind chapped face turning even more red. 
“I don’t know why you’re glaring at me! I’m always on time!” You shout, grabbing for Lando’s hand. “We’ll see you guys tonight!” 
Once you get in the Range Rover that Lando had rented for the two week visit, he immediately turns the heated seats on full power and cranks up the heat. 
“Do you want to swing by Starbucks and get something warm before going home?” You ask as Lando pulls out of the park and onto the snowy street. “I feel like I might need to just get you an IV of hot chocolate at this point.” 
Lando gives you a sidelong glare. “I think I have icicles in my nose hairs.” 
Laughter tumbles out of you, quick and light, sending a thrill of pleasure down Lando’s spine. You two had been dating for a few years now and there were still times he’d look over at you and think ‘how the fuck did I convince this girl to be my girlfriend?’. You had come into his life at a particularly challenging time and had been his rock since day one. 
“Starbucks it is, my poor little snowman. There’s one up here in this strip mall. Turn left at this light and then it’s on the right.” 
The parking lot, which is a shared lot with several other big box stores, is an absolute zoo and you can see the line snaking around the inside of the Starbucks before you even go in. To save some time, Lando drops you off at the front door while he goes and finds a spot for the large SUV. 
The line is long when you get inside but you’re thankful to at least be out of the bitter cold. While you wait in line, you mindlessly scroll on your Instagram, which is locked down tighter than Fort Knox. Going private on all socials and not being featured heavily on Lando’s had been one of the things you two had agreed upon when things started getting serious nearly two years ago now. People who were huge Lando fans knew who you were but the casual F1 fan probably wouldn’t have been able to pick you out of a lineup. 
Your casually scrolling, minding your own business, when a deep voice calling your name jolts you out of your little social media bubble. 
“Jeff?” You sputter, surprised to see your college boyfriend standing in front of you in line, huge smile on his face. 
Jeff had been one of the guys you and your best friends had drooled over in high school, having been nearly two years ahead of you when you were teens. You didn’t start dating him until your freshman year of college, when he was already a junior. To say the man was toxic was an understatement. In fact, now that you had a few years distance between the now and the end of the relationship, you could confidently say Jeff had been pretty abusive. 
“Hey, stranger!” He says, leaning in for a hug. You go completely still, totally unprepared to be faced with the man who had caused you so much trauma in the two years you had dated. “I have’t seen you in ages, visiting your family for the holidays?” 
You toss a look over your shoulder, desperately wishing for Lando to come walking in the door. “Uh, yeah. First time in a few years. I usually fly them over to London or Monaco for the holidays.” 
A dark shadow passes over Jeff’s face at the mention of where you live now. “Monaco, huh? You always thought you were too good for us here, didn’t you?” 
Your stomach twists painfully at the look in his eyes and you briefly consider just turning around and walking right out of the Starbucks without your drinks.
Before you can stutter out a response, a strong pair of large hands wraps around your waist as Lando drops his head onto your shoulder. “Darling. Baby. Sweetheart. Love of my life." Lando croons in your ear, not yet picking up on your body language. "I adore you but why the fuck did you have to be born in a place where the air hurts your face?” 
You laugh stiffly despite yourself. “Talk to my parents about that one, love.” 
Lando drops a kiss on your cheek before looking over at the other man. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.” 
Across from you, Jeff had been watching this exchange between Lando and you with an increasing amount of annoyance. Who the fuck was this and why was he calling you the love of his life? 
“Lando, this is Jeff.” You turn slightly, giving Lando a knowing look which he catches onto immediately. “Jeff, this is my boyfriend, Lando.” 
“That’s an interesting name. Only heard that name twice before, once in Star Wars and…” Jeff’s voice drops off as he finally makes the connection. “Wait. Lando…as in Lando Norris?” 
The smug grin that stretches across Lando’s face nearly has you giggling. “That’s me. And you’re Jeff, huh? I’ve heard a lot about you. None of it good.” 
Lando remembered the first time you had ever opened up to him a few months into dating about how you had been in an abusive relationship in college and how much work it had taken to recover from it. He had been your first serious relationship after leaving Jeff, having left the country just to get away from him. Internally, Lando raged at the man standing in front of you two, the protective instinct in him screaming to just lay the guy out right here.
Jeff’s already ruddy face turns red with incandescent rage. You had totally forgotten he was a big Formula One fan and when you remember the fact that not only is he an F1 fan, but a huge McLaren fan, the urge to giggle hits you again. Oh, this was just too good. 
“How’d you…” Jeff stutters. “How’d you manage to bag yourself a Formula 1 driver?” 
The question is a pathetic attempt to rile you up and insult you but both you and Lando see that question for exactly what it is. 
Lando plants another kiss on your cheek and you know he’s doing it to be an asshole. “I was actually the one who pursued her. She turned me down left and right for nearly a year, didn’t you baby?” 
You nod, remembering the way Lando had come into your office at the McLaren Tech Center day after day just to make small talk at first but finally had worked up the nerve to ask you out. You were one of the newer people on the comms team back then and you hand’t wanted to jeopardize the career you had worked so hard for so you had turned him down for nearly a year, insisting that you wanted nothing more than a friendship with the driver. 
“But eventually, he wore me down. He flew me to Monaco and took me out on his yacht for our first date, it was all very romantic.” It had actually been Max’s yacht, but Jeff didn’t need to know that bit. 
You can see Jeff practically seething at this point, knowing that you’re doing so well and he’s still apparently stuck in your hometown. 
“And how are you doing, Jeff? Still working at your dad’s law firm? How is Vance doing? And Laura?” You know it’s killing him, asking about his parents by their first name. 
Jeff just blinks at you for a few moments, realizing you weren’t the little girl he used to push around and take advantage of in college anymore. “Made partner last year, actually.” 
“That must be easy to do when your dad owns the practice, huh?” Lando says, voice nothing but light innocence. 
Jeff’s eyes bounce between you and Lando for several moments before he suddenly reaches into his pocket. “If you’d excuse me, it looks like the office is calling me.” 
“A call from the office the day before Christmas! Gosh, you must be very important, Jeffery.” Lando’s low blow to Jeff’s big ego hits true and without another word, the man scampers out of the Starbucks without a second glance in your direction. 
Once he’s gone, both you and Lando dissolve into giggles, your head finding it’s favorite spot on Lando’s shoulder. “I’m surprised he didn’t try to deck you there are the end.” 
“And mess up his pretty lawyer hands? Honey, I doubt he even knows how to throw a punch.” 
tag list @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago
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marauder-misprint · 2 months ago
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Checked box
Sirius Black x Potter!reader
13k words
cw: fluff, little bit of snogging, pinning, hurt/comfort (I guess?)
“Black is snogging Eloise Garner in the corridor,” Mary says as she sits down for breakfast at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.
“Bit early for a snog, isn’t it?” you ask, not looking up from your paper.
“I’d say so,” she responds, pouring herself a cup of tea.
“Isn’t that like the third girl this week?” Lily asks.
“Feels like he’s trying to at least snog every girl in our year and then some,” Marlene answers.
The group is silent for a moment as Mary, Marlene and Lily all stare at you.
“Well? Is he?” Lily asks.
“How would I know?”
“Because he is quite literally in your lap every evening?” Marlene replies. “Honestly, if we didn’t know you, we’d say you two were dating. Or at least you’d’ve been the first one he snogged.”
You make a face at that assumption. “My brother’s best friend, believe it or not, does not confide all of his life’s mission to me.”
“You’re probably one of them,” Mary giggles.
“Except I’m basically his sister!”
“Siblings don’t act like that around each other,” Lily says with a smile. 
“James!” you call to your brother who is a few seats down from the group. “Does Sirius like me romantically?”
He looks up from his Quidditch book, eyes wide.
“What? What did he do to you?”
He slams his book down and quickly walks down the table toward the girls. He crouches next to you so he wasn’t towering over you. 
“What did Padfoot do?”
You laugh at your brother. “Nothing, James. But these three,” you gesture to the girls around you, “think I’m on his to-be-snogged list. I’m not, am I?” Your words were teasing, already knowing that you weren't.
“I’ll damn ensure that you’re not,” he growls, shaking his head.
“But there is a list?” Marlene pipes up. Her eyes glitter with intrigue. 
“Not a list, per se… But he does seem to have trouble keeping to one girl for long.”
“And there you have it, folks! No real list and even if there was, I’m not on it.” You turn to look at James who doesn’t seem to be moving from where he crouches behind your shoulder. “Thanks James. You can, uh, go sit down now.”
“Oooh! Speak of the devil!” Mary chirps, looking toward the Great Hall door where Sirius was entering alone. 
“Morning, pumpkin,” Sirius says, ruffling your hair. “Girls.” 
James had waited until Sirius made it to the girls. The boys went down to their usual spots down the table. Once sat, James bursts into hurried whispers that lead to numerous glances being sent in the girls’ direction. 
“How come I can’t call you pumpkin?” Lily pouts. Of all the pet names, pumpkin was your least favorite.
You roll your eyes before answering. “He’ll be reprimanded later for that. Don’t you worry, dearest Lily.”
“Reprimanded in your sex dungeon?” Marlene gasps, a hand over her heart.
You smack her with your paper from across the table. “Don’t you start a rumor like that!”
“I could totally see you having one though!” Marlene insists. 
“What is your dominatrix name?” Lily asks, gently bumping into your shoulder. 
“You are all too horny this morning. I’ll see you in class.”
You quickly gather your things, take one last sip of coffee and leave the hall. The day seems to go on as usual for you. You sat with the girls in most of your classes. You’re glad the conversation of Sirius’ list had been left at breakfast. There are minor differences in the boys during classes. They appeared to have shuffled their seating arrangements, but it doesn’t affect you until History of Magic. You usually sit next to Sirius. Instead, you were sat next to Peter while Sirius sat on the other side of James. Peter wasn’t your favorite of James’ friends but you could tolerate him. 
There was definitely something different about Sirius in the common room after dinner. You usually hung out with her brother and his friends in the evenings. This would often lead to you sitting with Sirius on the couch, one of you draped over the other. Depending on who was sitting and who was lounging, you would play with each other’s hair or do homework or take a brief nap. You liked when Sirius would read you the assigned chapter because you otherwise wouldn’t read it. This evening, however, Sirius sat in an armchair nowhere near you. You frown as you watch him sit down and proceed to avoid your gaze. 
The altered seating arrangement and not sitting with you on the couch continues for the next few days. By Friday evening, it is driving you crazy. You need to know what is going on. You wait until most people have gone to bed before deciding to confront him. Sirius was usually one of the last people up so you knew that waiting it out would be okay. 
“Black, come ‘ere,” you say.
He looks over at you with a confused look on his face. He had been watching the fire, lost in his own thoughts. When he doesn’t move, you pat the couch cushion next to you. Reluctantly, he gets up and move to sit next to you. 
“What’s up, pumpkin?”
“What’s up with you?” you ask, your brows furrowed. “Feels like you’ve been on the other side of the Earth this week.”
He shrugs, looking back towards the fire. “Just following directions.”
“Whose directions?”
“Prongs.”
“And, pray tell, what did that idiot tell you to do?”
“To stay away from you?” he replies, obvious confusion in his voice. 
You pinch the bridge of your nose in mild frustration. “When was this?”
“Uh, earlier this week at breakfast. Made it seem like it was partly at your request?”
You shake your head. “Leave it to James to mess something up. No. He said he would make sure I didn’t end up as another checked box on your list. That would be all him.”
“Another checked box? What list is this?” Sirius asks with a slight chuckle as he looks at you. 
“The list of every girl in our year and then some,” you giggle, slightly relieved that it seems like he doesn’t have such a list. “You know, your apparent mission to kiss every one. And maybe get some.”
He quickly turns back to the fire, hoping to hide the brief look of embarrassment that crosses his face. You see it anyway and feel your face flush slightly. 
“There’s no list. And you certainly wouldn’t be a box on it if it were.”
“Ouch, Black,” you say with semi-fake hurt. “Cut me deep.”
“Please, I would be neutered if I kissed you.”
You laugh. Your laugh is enough to draw Sirius’ gaze away from the fire again. He loves seeing you smile that widely and knowing it was something he said to get you to. 
“Why were you talking about that imaginary list anyways?”
“Mary saw you snogging Eloise and apparently thought I would know if this list existed,” you say with a soft chuckle. 
“And James was a part of this conversation?” he asks in disbelief.
“Well, I called him over when the girls didn’t believe that we aren’t romantically involved, let alone never kissed.”
Sirius shakes his head with a small smile playing on his lips. “And that leads to James declaring that I need to be at least a meter away from you at all times?”
“I asked him two questions. Do you like me romantically and was I on your to-be-snogged list?” You pause. “You know, he never actually answered the first one.”
“That would be because he doesn’t know,” Sirius says, turning his head almost 90 degrees to crack his neck. “You know how much he hates being wrong… So he’s not going to give an answer if he doesn’t know if it’s right.”
“What does that mean?”
“That I don’t discuss everything with Prongs. Although, he never has asked how I feel about you.”
You chuckle and nudge Sirius with your shoulder. “You don’t have to pretend like you might have feelings for me. It’s… fine that you don’t.” The words taste bitter in your mouth, but you try to sound genuine. You would be lying if you said you never imagined things developing between the two of you. 
“Why do you assume I don’t?” Sirius asks, cocking his head as he looks at you intently.
“Why would you be snogging anything that moves in a skirt if you liked me and you’ve never made a move for me?”
“I thought we agreed that Prongs would have me neutered if I kissed you?” He takes a breath. “And maybe knowing that I could very well lose my best friend if I went after the girl I actually like is the reason I go from girl to girl. None of them make me feel like she does.”
“Wait, what?”
“There’s just more than one reason why you can’t be a checked box on this list,” Sirius says, standing up. “Goodnight, pumpkin.”
He places a gentle kiss on top of your head before heading up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories. You stare after him dumbfounded. Has Sirius just essentially told you that he did like you and then leave? 
Despite knowing that he was well out of earshot, you still say, “That’s not my name.”
None of the students remaining in the common room pay you any attention as you sit on the couch alone, talking to yourself now. You slump into the cushions and take over Sirius’ habit of staring into the fire. You understand why he does it. The way that the flames dance and flicker and radiate heat is calming. 
You are distracted all weekend by what Sirius had said. You bury yourself in homework and use it as an excuse to avoid the Quidditch game. It’s Slytherin against Hufflepuff so your absence isn't insulting to James. Despite being tucked away in a distraction-free corner of the library, you make little progress on your homework. Your mind kept wandering back to Sirius and what he had said. You had worked hard to bury all of your feelings for him years ago, assuming it would never happen due to his close friendship with James. Your feelings continued to remain buried as he got closer with you and never hinted that he might like you more than a friend. 
In your dorm, you ignore the comments from Lily and Mary that for someone who spent all weekend in the library, you made such little progress on your assignments, or that they were done extremely poorly. 
On Monday, you really do try to pay attention in class, but it is futile. Even after a weekend of him on your mind, your thoughts keep drifting back to Sirius, who is in most of your classes. Even worse, you come to realize that you have no one to talk to about it so you can only let your mind spin as it had for the past two days. You think you disguise your distraction fairly well in classes until Remus grabs your hand in Potions before you can tip an ingredient into your cauldron.
“Are you trying to blow up the classroom?” he hisses at you. 
You blink at him and then look at what you had been about to pour into your brew. He is right. If you had dumped it in, your cauldron would have blown up and severely damaged those around you. You give Remus a grateful smile.
“Thanks, Remus… Been a bit distracted lately.”
“Yeah, I know.”
You give him a look. “Is it obvious?”
“You didn’t bother to apologize or clean up your spilled inkwell in Transfiguration,” he says with a soft smile. “If Lily hadn’t quickly cleaned it up for you, McGonagall would’ve given you detention.”
“Huh… I’ll have to thank her later…”
“What’s got you so distracted?”
“Nothing too important,” you lie.
“If I’m almost blown up over it, it must be important.”
“It’s really not that big of a deal. I just don’t have anyone to talk to about it so it’s… festering.”
Remus turns back to his own potion.
“Must be quite the topic if you have no one to talk to about it.”
You scrunch your face as you add the correct ingredient to your potion, causing it to turn a pleasant blue color. 
“What does that mean?”
“You have plenty of people who care for you. And if none of us are good enough, you could probably have your pick of first years who would love to listen to your problems.”
You chew at the dead skin of your bottom lip, looking at Remus and knowing he was right.
“Don’t be mad but sometimes I forget that you are also my friend, not just James’. And that you are the most understanding person on this planet.”
He chuckles softly, not trying to draw attention to himself. “Understandable. But what is it that you feel you have no one to talk to about?”
“It’s too public in here,” you say, looking around the room. “It’s something I can’t talk to the girls about because they will all tease me endlessly if I do. And I can’t talk about it with James because we don’t really discuss that kind of stuff often and he overreacts.”
“And Sirius?”
You purse your lips. 
“Oh,” Remus says, suddenly understanding. “Let’s discuss this after class when I’m certain I’ll be in less danger of blowing up.”
Once your potions are turned in to Professor Slughorn, you and Remus leave the classroom together. Lily, Mary and James give you questionable stares as you disappear around the corner. Neither of you say a word until you are more secluded in the grounds of Hogwarts. You walk down towards the Black Lake. Anyone trying to eavesdrop would have a harder time hearing you over the sound of waves. 
“What did Sirius do?” Remus asks, sitting down and resting his back against a tree. 
Mimicking his actions, you answer, “It’s what he said when I confronted him for avoiding me all last week.”
“Wasn’t that at your request?”
“No. James is a liar.”
“Okay?”
“Long story short, Mary, Marlene and Lily…” you start to say before putting your head in your hands and groaning. “Screw that. Does Sirius like me?”
“He lets you touch his hair. Of course he likes you.”
You lift your head to look at Remus. “Does he like me as more than a friend?”
“What did he say to you?”
“I asked first.”
“I can only speak if I know what he told you.”
You sigh heavily and turn your gaze to the lake.
“Something like he’d lose James if he kissed the girl he actually likes and that’s why he’s been kissing every girl who looks his way. And then that there’s more than one reason why I can’t be another checked box on the list of girls he’s kissed.”
Remus puts his hand on your shoulder. 
“Oh, darling…”
“Remus, does he like me?”
“I believe he does.”
You whip your head towards him. “What do you mean, you believe?”
“He’s not known for pouring his heart out. You know that. He’s private with his more personal feelings,” Remus says, choosing his words carefully. “But I have eyes and ears. The way he looks at you, especially when James isn’t looking. The way he acts around you. The way he talks to you, and about you. … And he calls you pumpkin.”
You don’t say anything. You were taking it all in, although you don’t quite understand why him using that pet name held significance. You just want Remus to keep talking. 
“You know about his home life,” he continues. 
You nod. 
“I don’t think I could say all the ways it makes him the way he is. We’ve only heard snippets of it. I think there’s a lot he has walled off. And he has a found family in us. In James specifically. So he’s going to tread lightly around anything that could harm that.”
You bite the inside of your lip. You know you have been let inside some of Sirius’ walls. There were the miscellaneous late nights filled with more vulnerable conversations over the past two years. A particularly horrendous nightmare had brought Sirius to the common room to sit by the dying fire, and you had already been sitting there. You had been unable to sleep with your own anxieties. You snuggled into each other on the couch and talked until Sirius felt okay to go back to sleep. 
Even with that memory in your head, the thing you say is, “So James’ irrationality is why Sirius hasn’t made a move on me?”
“Part of it… but that’s not what you’re taking away from this conversation. There’s more than Prongs in this equation.”
You sigh and rest your chin on your hands. The sun was beginning to set and it reflects beautifully on the lake’s shimmering surface. 
“You’re also in the equation,” Remus reminds you. “Do you like him as more than a friend?”
You can’t help but laugh. 
“Remus John Lupin, I’ve been in love with him since second year.”
The moment you say that, it hits you like a brick wall. The buried emotions all bubble up and you lean back into the tree forcefully. Your head hits the trunk with a soft thud and you groan at the sudden pain. You know that you thought Sirius was cute from the moment you met him but it did take time and a little bit of maturing for you to decide that you liked him in that way. And because he is your brother’s best friend, you kept quiet about it, even to your female friends. Despite playing it off, you were bothered when you heard about him snogging another girl in the corridor. You were bothered when you heard girls giggle about how handsome he was and how they hoped he would give them attention or take them to Hogsmeade. You relish in the fact that out of every one of his friends, he chose to sit next to you in the common room night after night. And you treasured every time he let you see that vulnerable side of him that he kept so well hidden behind his bright smile and boisterous laugh and devil-may-care attitude. 
“If that’s true, why haven’t you made a move?” 
You laugh again, nudging Remus’s shoulder. 
“I thought you were the smart one of the group. He’s James’ best friend. His best friend who has never once shown an inkling of romantic interest in me. Why would I risk that level of embarrassment with someone who is obviously going to be in my life as long as I stay close with James?”
“Do you ever think that maybe he thought the same thing?”
“Rems, I…”
“Love, listen. I can’t tell you what to do. I can’t tell you for certain that he likes you. But I suggest you talk to him. Probably when James isn’t around. And if it comes to it, screw what James thinks. He just cares for you and doesn’t want to see you hurt. You are twins after all.”
You sit in silence for a minute. The crashing waves of the lake fill the air as the sun disappears over the horizon. 
“Rems, thanks for this. But we did miss dinner,” you finally say.
You stand up and hold out a hand to Remus. He takes it with a smile. He grunts as he stands up, like the old man the boys often compare him to.
“You act like we don’t know where the kitchens are…” 
After a quick stop by the kitchens for sandwiches, you enter the common room together. You are greeted by multiple versions of “There you are!” and “I told you they’d be together, I saw them leave Potions together!” It seems as if your disappearance had captured the attention of every sixth year Gryffindor. 
“You missed dinner!” James chides. 
“We grabbed sandwiches,” you say, holding up your almost finished grilled cheese. 
“What were you doing?” His eyes narrow at Remus. 
“Talking?” Remus answers, moving past James to sit by in a chair by the fire. 
You, however, feel frozen with James in front of you and the eyes of many Gryffindors on you. 
“Talking kept you from food?” Marlene asks in disbelief. “Must’ve been some conversation.”
“I’d say it was enlightening,” you say. 
“Did he teach you Lumos?” Peter asks from the couch. 
“Ha,” Remus says dryly. 
“Are you okay?” James asks you in a hushed tone as the non-sixth year Gryffindors slowly turn back to their own conversations. 
“Yes? I just needed to talk to Rem about something private.”
“Something private?” he asks, trying to get more information out of you. “With Moony? Come on, what is going on?”
“Nothing is going on. God forbid a girl talks to her male friends.”
“If nothing is going on, then tell me what you were talking about.”
“You are not privy to my every conversation,” you snap.
“I am a bit when it’s with one of my best mates.”
“Your best mates are also some of my best mates, James. Learn to share.”
Your voices were increasing in volume.
“Do I need to talk to him too?” James asks, placing a hand on your shoulder which you immediately shrug off. 
“No! And I never asked you to talk to Sirius!”
Sirius looks from Remus to you to James at the mention of his name. 
“You asked if you were…”
“I asked for information. That’s all. And you have the audacity to tell him to stay away from me?”
“I’m protecting you.”
“I don’t need protecting,” you spit. “And if I did, it certainly wouldn’t be from your friends.” You look over at the boys and then back at James. “If anyone needs protecting from the people you call your best mates, then you need to reevaluate the kind of company you keep.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Let me get hurt.”
You give James one last nasty look before finally being able to move your feet. You disappear into the girls’ dorms. As you walk away, you can feel eyes watching your every move. Apparently if you argue with your brother loudly, the common room is forced to give you all of their attention. Once out of sight, James collapses on the couch, refusing to look at anyone. Lily, Marlene and Mary watch James sit down and then follow you up the stairs. Lily hesitates a moment before knocking on the door to your shared dorm. 
“Lovie?” she called softly as she opened the door a crack. “Potter!”
The door creaks loudly as it opens wider. You had changed out of your uniform and into muggle clothes. You are sitting on your bed, lacing up your heavy boots with a small bag next to you.
“Going somewhere?” Marlene asks. She is the first of the girls to enter the room.
“I need to clear my head.”
“How do you plan on doing that?” Lily asks, trying to keep her voice calm and gentle.
“Heard about some poachers gathering in the forest. And if I can’t find them, I’ll find some trolls or dugbogs or something.”
“And you plan on going alone?”
You shoot the girls a warning look. “Yes. Evans, if you threaten detention, make it for Thursday.”
Lily doesn’t say anything. 
“What did you and Lupin talk about?” Mary inquires, not quite seeing that you aren’t in the mood to talk about that yet. 
“Doesn’t. Fucking. Matter.”
You, having finished lacing your boots, grab you bag and storm out of the dorm. You have to push past Mary who is still standing in the doorway. Your heavy footsteps silence the common room before you finish descending the stairs. Eyes follow you as you leave the common room. Once out of the portrait, the common room roars to life again. 
“So… what the fuck?” Peter asks, looking at his friends.
“She’s pissed off,” Remus says coolly. “And I’d say for decent reason.”
James gives him an annoyed look.
“That time of the month, is it?”
“Peter, no!” Remus chastises. “She’s just figuring stuff out.”
“Care to share with the class?” James asks. 
“I’d prefer to not spend the next two weeks in the hospital wing so I’ll let her tell you when she’s ready.”
“So we’re going to let her go off like that?” Sirius asks, speaking up for the first time since you and Remus came back. 
“Yes,” Remus and James say at the same time. 
“Like she said, she doesn’t need protection,” Remus says, sending a wary glance to James.
---
Remus was mildly surprised that when he woke up, Sirius wasn’t in his bed. He was, however, less surprised when he found Sirius slumped on the couch in the common room. Remus approached him, ready to wake him up, only to find that Sirius was awake. His hair was slightly frizzy and dark bags formed under his eyes. He was still in his disheveled uniform from the day before, having never gone up to their dorm after dinner. 
“Pads?” he says gently. “Were you up all night?”
Sirius looks away from the fire groggily. 
“Huh?” He processes what Remus had asked him. He sits up, his back loudly cracking as he does so. “Yeah. Someone had to wait for Potter to get back.”
“And you didn’t come up when she did?”
Sirius shakes his head before running a hand through his curls.
“She didn’t, Moons. She didn’t come back.”
Remus’ eyes go wide.
“No, surely she came back. You must’ve drifted asleep at some point.”
“She didn’t. I was awake the whole time.”
Remus sits next to his friend, placing a hand on his knee. “Maybe she got back recently and just went straight to breakfast? How ‘bout we go get some, yeah?”
“Let me change,” Sirius mutteres, giving Remus a tired look.
He doesn’t move for a minute. His brain feels too fuzzy and wired at the same time. Convincing his legs to support his weight as he eventually stands up is more of a task than he anticipates. He is quick in getting ready for the day in their dorm. He doesn’t understand how James is still asleep, or how he had slept at all when you weren’t in the castle for all they knew. Sirius ties his hair back and looks at his reflection with his fresh uniform on. Despite his attempts to make himself look presentable, not having slept at all and being filled with worry makes him look exhausted, which is how he felt. He just doesn’t want to show it. He sighs and returns to Remus. 
Sirius watches the Great Hall door as he slowly eats some breakfast. He drinks some coffee that Remus pushed towards him, saying something along the lines of needing caffeine if he was planning on making it through the day. When the girls sit down, they confirm that you hadn't been in their dorm that morning and your bed looked unslept in. Sirius groans. The girls exchange curious looks. 
Palpable concern and worry finally reaches the rest of the sixth year Gryffindors when they are all sat in Charms and you still weren't there. 
“You’re certain that she didn’t come back and just made her bed when she got up?” James asks Marlene.
“Positive. All of her school things were still there. The bed hadn’t been touched.”
“And since when does she make her bed?” Lily asks. 
Halfway through class, you enter the room. All eyes turn to look at you. You have multiple bandages over your body, looking freshly applied. You hand Professor Flitwick a note and take your spot next to Mary. You don’t say anything to all the Gryffindors staring at you. You just open your book to the same page as Mary and turn to look at the professor, hoping he’d continue his lesson where he left off. 
“Where have you been?” Mary whispers, not looking at you.
“Forest. And then hospital wing,” you reply nonchalantly. 
“Did you sleep?”
“No. I’ll be fine,” you assert. “Now shush.”
After Charms ends, the Gryffindors surround you so you can’t slip away to your next class. You avoid making eye contact with any of them as you gather your things and attempt to push through them. 
“Going into the forest at night is one thing,” Lily chides. “Not coming back until halfway through the first lesson of the day is another.”
“Okay, mum,” you say shortly, still trying to push through the group.
“Aren’t you going to explain yourself?” James asks.
You glare at him. “Certainly not to you.”
“You look like you barely came back in one piece!” he exclaims. “I’m shocked Pomfrey let you leave the hospital wing.”
A wicked glint shines in your eyes. “Oh, she didn’t. I just left.”
“Potter!” Mary gasps.
“Macdonald!” you mimic with an eye roll. “If you lot don’t get out of my way, I’ll be late for Ancient Runes and I’m already on thin ice with Raltmole.”
You finally push through the group and leave them in the Charms classroom. They exchange frustrated looks before following you out. They split up for their respective classes, Remus and Lily following you towards the Ancient Runes classroom. 
“Did you find the poachers you were looking for?” Lily asks tentatively once they sit on either side of you. 
You nod. “And then some. The hippogriffs they had weren’t happy to be freed.”
“Did you bow to them?” Remus asks.
“No? Was I supposed to?”
“Yes!” Remus breathes.
You hum and spin your quill in your fingers. “Now I know for next time.”
Professor Raltmole gathers the class’ attention and begins her lecture. Remus takes a ratty piece of parchment from his bookbag and scrawls a short note on it before sliding it across the desk toward you. 
Padfoot waited up for you
You quickly read it, write a response and slide it back.
Is that why he looks like living death?
He didn’t sleep because you were gone
You crumple the paper when you get it back from Remus. You shove it in your pocket, away from Lily’s view. 
“I’ll talk to him later,” you hiss to Remus.
An angry Madam Pomfrey yells at you in front of most of the castle at lunch for sneaking out of the hospital wing when you were clearly still in need of tending to. An excuse of not wanting to miss more class seemed to ward her off, but you feel the nurse’s frustrated gaze on you for the rest of the meal. Mary and Marlene ask you about the poachers you dueled as you walked to your next class. You recount a watered down version of the previous night’s events for them. You make sure that your injuries still make sense but their severity less. The girls are simply impressed and less concerned for their friend. 
You are happy when the second half of the day is more concentrated on schoolwork rather than what you had gotten up to last night. You didn’t want to keep reliving being outnumbered by the poachers and just barely getting out without being too injured. The fear in the hippogriffs’ eyes haunted you. It reminds you that what you did was right, but they had still attacked you after you unlocked their cages. Sitting at dinner, you gently touch the bandage on her face and wince. 
“If it hurts, you probably shouldn’t touch it,” Lily says. “Or go see Pomfrey again. I’m sure she’d love to patch you up more.”
“Going back is admitting defeat,” you say definitively. 
You wouldn’t go back, not even when your bandages need to be replaced. You know that the boys have plenty of bandages in their dorm and you could use some of those. You worried that Pomfrey would handcuff you to a cot and place a charm on it so you couldn’t escape. You were determined to not be held captive to the nurse. 
You fold gravy into your mashed potatoes until they turn a gross shade of pale brown. Your whole body had started to ache during the last lesson of the day. The pain is stronger than your hunger and all you want to do now is sleep. However, you weren’t dumb. Your friends would have cursed you into next week, or at least taken you to Madam Pomfrey, if you hadn’t shown up to dinner. You sigh as the plates in the middle of the table clear and replenish with desserts. Nothing looks appetizing. You force yourself to swallow some of the potatoes so you could claim that you did have some dinner. After a few bites, you resume swirling the soft mush around your plate. 
“Darling, you done?” Marlene asks, standing up across from you. 
You look up, noticing that a fair amount of students had already left the Great Hall. 
“I guess so,” you say. 
You walk back to the Gryffindor Tower in silence. Marlene seems to read your body language, which says you aren’t in the mood to talk anymore. Your face has a hardened look to it with your arms crossed over your chest. After giving the password, Marlene makes sure to hold open the portrait for you so it doesn't close on you. 
You would be lying if you said you didn’t smile a little when you saw Sirius sitting on the couch with no one else. Marlene heads for the girls’ stairs, half expecting you to follow her up. Instead, you make a beeline for the couch and lay down, your head resting in Sirius’ lap.
“Hey Black,” you say, looking up at him.
“Aren’t you exhausted?” he asks, looking down at you. “I think you got as much sleep as I did last night.”
“So Remus says,” you reply. 
Sirius twirls some of your hair around his finger, something he had done hundreds of times before. Only this time, you see it as something more tender, all thanks to what Remus had said the day prior. It sent off butterflies in your stomach.
“Must’ve been some conversation you two had yesterday,” Sirius mumbles. “What else would keep you out so late?”
You scoff. “James being a prat. But it was some conversation. I think I needed to hear it.”
Sirius’ expression softens. 
“What did you need to hear?”
“It was… a reality check.” 
You pause, studying the look on his face. You are vaguely aware of the other people in the common room, but the way Sirius is looking at you could’ve convinced you that you were the only one in the entire castle with those grey eyes. Without saying anything to each other, you feel as if the only things you can hear are your breathing and the muted crackling of the fire not far from you. You reach up and tuck a curl behind his ear, revealing his multiple piercings that he’d gotten over the years. You notice his breathing hitch as your hand gently grazes his face. You smile at him. 
“So between the reality check and Mr. Bitchiness himself, I needed to clear my head.”
Sirius shakes his head with a soft chuckle.
“I think you should find a way to clear your head that doesn’t involve barely coming back in one piece, Potter.”
“I thought you called me pumpkin.”
“I thought you hated being called that.”
“I do, but I let you get away with it.” You gently poke the tip of his nose playfully. Your gaze briefly flicks to his lips before returning to his eyes. “You’re… special.” 
“That doesn’t look like a meter,” James’ voice calls, bringing you back into the noise of the common room. 
You can see your brother standing over the two of you behind the couch. His face isn’t quite murderous, but it was getting there. 
“She’s exhausted and in pain and you come swooping in?” James accuses Sirius. “I thought I told you to give her space.”
You sit up and glare at James, the tenderness of the moment with Sirius evaporated.
“Excuse you,” you say, a disgusted snarl creeping up on your face. “He did no such swooping. And you can’t tell people to stay away from me.”
“I’m your brother! It’s my job to keep people away from you,” he says, giving his friend a sour look. “Especially when I think they have immoral intentions.”
“Have you considered that I’m the one who came to him and not the other way around?” 
“Why would you?”
You blink. “Because he’s my friend?”
“He’s my friend,” James says.
You can’t stop yourself. You slap James across the face. You feel your own face burning and tears beginning to brim in your eyes. 
“I see you didn’t learn anything from last night, you git,” you spit at him. 
You stand up, leaving Sirius alone on the couch. He watches in silence as you turn to leave the common room. You slam the portrait behind you, earning a scolding from the Fat Lady about respect. The common room remains silent as Sirius looks up at James.
“Prongs, I swear, she came to me,” he says. “I was sitting here and she came to me. She walked in with Marlene long after we came back from dinner.”
“Whatever, Pads. Just keep your distance from her, like you said you would.”
Sirius lets his lips form a thin line as he looks away from James and back to the fire. Technically, he had never said he would keep away from you. James had just insisted on it. James sighs heavily, glancing at the portrait hole. He is glad that you didn’t go upstairs to change and grab whatever you would need to go out again, but you leaving in such a fury wasn’t ideal either. He turns and goes back up to their dorm. When Remus sees how upset James is, he immediately goes to check in on Sirius, letting Peter work on calming James down. 
Remus sits on the other side of the couch. Sirius is radiating an energy that said he needed a little bit of space around him. 
“Padfoot,” Remus says, speaking tentatively. “What just happened? Why is Prongs in a huff again?”
“He’s accusing me of trying to defile her when she’s not in her right mind.”
Remus isn’t a fan that Sirius didn’t look at him when he talked. He didn’t want his friend to stay up all night staring into the fire again. 
“Where is she?”
Sirius shrugs. “Slapped Prongs and left.”
Remus raised his eyebrows and leaned toward Sirius. 
“She slapped him?” he asks, trying to hold in some laughter. “Honestly, someone needed to and it’s good it came from her. He’ll forgive her.”
“Do you think he’d forgive me?” Sirius asks, his voice barely audible and eyes still not leaving the flickering flames. 
“Forgive you for what?” Remus asks cautiously. “Did you… defile her?”
Sirius scoffs. “No, Merlin… But… fuck. Nevermind.”
Remus scoots to the middle cushion of the couch. He places a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius looks away from the fire. His cheeks are dusted with a faint blush. 
“Padfoot, be honest with me. How do you feel about her?” 
Remus’ voice is soft. It has a sense of pleading to it, as if begging Sirius to admit something he doesn’t want to, as if begging him to be more vulnerable in the middle of the common room than he has ever been before. Sirius just shakes his head with a frown.
“That doesn’t matter.”
With a harsh sigh, Remus tries again. “Prongs doesn’t matter right now. How do you, Padfoot, Sirius Orion Black, feel about her?”
“Like she is the most precious thing.” He closes his eyes and turns his face toward the fire again. “But Prongs does matter. So how I feel doesn’t. I need his friendship more than I need a relationship.”
Remus gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. 
“Imagine if everything went right though… You and Prongs could legally be brothers.”
Sirius coughs in surprise at his words. Of course, he had thought about it from time to time. James was his brother in practically all ways except literally. You, being alluring as you were, were something different. You weren't a sister to him. What he feels for you isn’t what he would feel for a sister and it is certainly more than anything he has felt for any other girl. 
“Think about it, Pads, yeah?” Remus suggests, giving his shoulder another squeeze. “You think Wormtail has calmed Prongs down enough for it to be safe to go back up there?”
Remus glances toward the stairs. Then he looks back at Sirius, who has opened his eyes but stares absently at the hearth. 
“You said she left the common room? You don’t think she’ll be gone all night again, do you?” Remus questions, his voice having more concern than before. 
“She’ll be back… Although it might be better if I’m not down here when she returns…”
---
You spend the rest of the week avoiding James. You put as many people in between you as possible when you have to be near him. If he tries to talk to you, you either ignore him or speak to him through someone else. It pisses him off. You also take to avoiding the common room, being that he was often there. For once, you find yourself being furious that Remus and Sirius were James’ friends first and yours second.
Marlene sits down in the library at the same table as you, Mary and Lily. You are working on various assignments, books littering the tables. Marlene clears a small section for her to get out her own work. She shoots a wary look toward you.
“Black’s back on his bullshit,” she says, watching you for a reaction that you don’t give her. 
You keep your eyes on your Ancient Runes assignment.
“Who’s he snogging now?” Lily asks. She knows someone has to buy into the bait.
“Charity Burbage.”
“Didn’t realize she was his type…” Mary mutters. “Isn’t she a few years younger?”
“Fourth year, but she’s… mature if you know what I mean,” Marlene answers, giving her own breasts a squeeze.
“Alright, we get your point,” Lily says, cutting her off. “Remember that we’re here to do homework, right?”
You just scoff and keep working. Hearing that Sirius was off snogging a busty fourth year rubbed you the wrong way. You keep thinking back to what Sirius had said and what Remus had told you about him. You think about how Sirius had been the one waiting up for you to come back that night you got into the fight with James. You don’t want to imagine Sirius sucking face with a younger girl, but the image keeps appearing in your mind. It makes your blood boil. 
“Potter, you good?” Mary whispers from across the table.
You look up at Mary and then back down at your paper. There were various splotches of ink where you had been holding your quill and lightly tapping it. You sighed in annoyance. 
“Guess Raltmole is getting subpar work again,” you groan. 
You look over at the assignment sheet again and force a smile. At least you were on the last question. Once you answer it, you could make an excuse to leave. You hurriedly finish and begin putting your stuff away.
“I’ll see you lot later.”
“Going back to the common room?” Lily asks, not looking up from her own assignment. 
“Yeah,” you lie. You had no intention of going back to Gryffindor Tower and risk running into James. 
You make your way up to the astronomy tower. As you climb the stairs, hot tears sting in your eyes and begin to fall. You have never been so glad to find the tower completely empty. You sit down near the edge of the platform. The cold air feels nice as you feel like you are overheating. Your mind is spinning with thoughts of Sirius. You hate that you had admitted to Remus that you had been harboring feelings for Sirius for years and everything you had buried so deep inside of you had been brought back to the surface. You hate that your friends feel the need to bring up whoever they saw Sirius kissing. 
As you look over the horizon, lost in your thoughts, you hear a string of swears from the stairs. You don’t look to see who it was. It isn’t a Gryffindor and that’s all that really matters to you at this moment. When the boy reaches the top of the stairs, he immediately spots you at the edge of the platform. He swears again, having hoped the tower would be empty, but then he notices you shuddering and hears your sniffles. 
“Is this where everyone goes when they’re upset?” Barty Crouch Jr. asks, taking a step towards you, unsure of how you felt about having company. He had wanted to be alone so maybe you did too.
You turn your head to look at him. Your face is flushed and eyes red. Tears streak your face. Barty decides that you look too pitiful to leave alone. He sits down next to you, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the platform and leaning backwards. 
“Misery loves company, doesn’t it?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you.
You smiled softly, although it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Depends on the company you keep.”
“Well, I came up here to be alone.” He kicks his legs in the open air. “But you’re not a Slytherin so I’ll give you a chance.”
“And you’re not a Gryffindor so I won’t ask you to leave.”
He chuckles and gives you a half smile. “Lions and snakes can be too much from time to time.”
“You can say that again. … What’d they do to you?”
“Evan… He’s hiding something from me and it’s not good. He needs to let me in, but it’s hard to convince him when everyone, Black, Snape, Avery, Wilkes, tells me to drop it. God forbid I try to be involved in my boyfriend’s life…” Barty sighs. “Everyone ganged up on me, even Pandora.”
“Didn’t know you and Evan… Rosier?” 
“Yeah, Rosier. We don’t make it a habit to snog in the corridors like the other Black.”
You grimace. The other Black was your issue. 
“What?”
“The other Black…”
Barty’s eyes widen. “You and him? I thought I heard he was…”
“We’re not,” you cut him off. “Which is why I’m up here.”
“I need a distraction from Ev… What’s up with that little blood traitor?”
You glare at Barty. “I’m not going to talk to you if you’re going to be like that.”
“Sorry, habit. What’s the other Black up to?”
You shake your head and adjust so your legs hang over the edge too. You sniffle again and blink away tears that threaten to stream down your face again.
“How am I supposed to know if he likes me if I keep hearing that he’s going into a broom closet with a new girl every other day?”
“You like him?” Barty asks. “Of course you do. Just about every girl has a fantasy about him.”
You scoff. “Every girl… Yeah. That’s part of the problem. He all but told me that I’m the reason he’s snogging every girl in our year. And yours. And then some.”
“You’re the reason?”
“Something like James would kill him if he touched me so he touches everyone else.” You roll your eyes and lean forward into the metal railing. “And then Remus goes off and says he’s fairly certain that Sirius really does like me in the way I like him. And James constantly acting like I need protection from his friends. And every time I think I’ve collected myself and reburied my feelings for Black, Marlene and Mary come around and talk about who they saw him with.” You shake your head. “I’m sorry, it’s stupid.”
“Your stupid problem is better than thinking about mine. I know Ev will be cooled off when I get back and we’ll be fine. Your problem is… more.”
“Do the Slytherins think Sirius has some checklist of every girl he needs to snog before graduation?” you ask, biting the inside of your cheek.
“Not that I know of, but I’m around Reg a lot and we don’t talk about his brother in front of him unless we have a death wish.” He pauses. “Poor wording because some of us do… We don’t talk about him.”
“Hmm… It’s definitely a topic among Gryffindors. Obviously.”
“He’d never be able to finish it.”
You give him a confused look as you sniffle again. 
“You and that redhead. The one your brother and Snape are obsessed with.”
You laugh softly. “Yeah, Lily would never kiss Sirius. Even for a dare. She’d rather do just about anything else.”
“And I call that a success!” Barty says with a smile. “Got the crying girl to laugh.”
“That you did…”
“May regret asking this, but what set you off? Why are you here now? Sounds like you’re just eternally pining.”
“Marlene said she saw Black snogging Burbage.”
“She’s younger than me.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Gross.”
“Yeah.” You sigh and feel tears fall again. 
Your mind keeps telling you it was stupid to be jealous over a silly fourth year, but it was unfair. Barty notices you starting to cry again.
“Come here,” he says as he puts his arm around you. 
While he and Evan would fight, he hoped they would never make each cry like this. The girl he had only ever seen as a force to be reckoned with was reduced to a puddle of emotions. You rest your head on Barty’s shoulder. It gives you a little bit of comfort to be hurting with someone else.
---
“She’s where with who?” James yells in their dorm. 
When the girls had returned from the library and asked if you were in their room, they were met with confused stares from the boys. They hadn’t seen you since dinner and they had been in the common room all evening. While the girls shared looks of minor confusion, the boys shared looks of worry. The boys had immediately gone up to their dorm and opened the map. Each scanned a different section, looking for your name.
“She’s in the astronomy tower with Junior,” Peter repeats. 
“Is she trying to get herself killed?”
“You seem far more concerned about her being with Junior than you did with her going off to fight poachers,” Sirius mutters, going to sit on his bed. 
James turns to glare at him.
“What does that mean?”
“Just questioning what, or who, you think counts as dangerous.”
“You damn well know that Junior is dangerous,” James growls. 
“Oh, I do know that, Prongs. But I’m not. I’m not a threat to her.”
“We aren’t talking about this right now, Padfoot. She is actually in danger right now!” 
“Should we be concerned that their names aren’t moving?” Peter asks, still looking at the map. “Neither one has even shifted so they aren’t walking around or nothing.”
The two boys look over at Peter, anger fading from their faces and being replaced with fear and concern. 
“That’s it. I’m going to get her,” James announces, moving for the door before Remus stops him.
“Like hell you are,” he says firmly. “In case you’re more dense than I think you are, you’re not her favorite person right now. I don’t think it’s wise that you go.”
“Then who’s going to go? Can’t really ask Lily to go fetch her without explaining the map.”
“Padfoot, you go see if she’s okay,” Remus decides. “Just… don’t overreact to whatever you’re walking into.”
Sirius doesn’t need to be told twice. He slips out of the door behind Remus, shooting James a gloating face. Once the door is closed, Remus lets James go. 
“Tell me how Padfoot is going to handle that situation better than I would,” James demands. 
“First off, you would walk in and blast Junior off the tower. Don’t act like you wouldn’t. And like I said, she is still angry with you. You going would only make things worse between you two,” Remus starts to explain. “Second, it would’ve been best if I went, but then I’d be leaving you and Padfoot alone and I didn’t feel like returning to a blood bath.”
James frowns, although he could see the logic behind Remus’ actions. He doesn’t need to ask why they didn’t send Peter; he didn’t have what it might take to get you away from Barty if it came to that. 
Sirius’ stomach churns when he sees Barty’s arm around you. You appear to be willingly leaning into his side. You are sitting at the edge of the platform, legs hanging over the edge and resting against the bars. Keeping quiet as he lingers in the doorway, he can hear you having a whispered conversation. You were sniffling. After a few minutes of watching them and feeling sick, Sirius makes his presence known.
“Hey, pumpkin,” he says softly, causing both of them to jump at the sound of his voice. “Everyone’s looking for you.”
Barty glares at Sirius. They had never gotten along, especially with Barty being one of Regulus’ closer friends. 
“Piss off, Black. We’re having a conversation,” he spits, still holding onto you although it was a looser grip. 
You had turned your body and propped one of your legs up on the platform. You wipe your nose and sniffle. Now that you were looking at Sirius, he could see that your eyes were red and puffy from crying. 
“Everyone can piss off, actually,” you say, voice shaky. “They can handle a night without me.”
You let your leg fall back over the edge as you turn back to looking over the horizon. Barty follows suit. Sirius walks closer to you and sits down only a short distance away, resting his back against a pillar. 
“Well, I’m not going back without you. So, carry on. I’ll walk you back when you’re ready.”
You roll your eyes and shake your head, not that Sirius saw either. 
“Black, I would’ve thought by now you’d be able to tell when you aren’t wanted,” Barty says, venom dripping from his words. “Get out of here before I make you.”
“Last I checked, she was more my friend than yours,” Sirius replies. 
“Guess you haven’t checked recently.”
Sirius narrows his eyes at Barty as his arm pulls her waist closer to his. 
“Guess fate is being extra cruel tonight,” Barty mutters to you and you nod in agreement. “I’m going to be fine, but are you?”
“Eventually, I assume,” you say. “I just feel defeated, and that doesn’t help.” 
“What did I do?” Sirius asks, knowing that he was what you were referring to.
You and Barty look over at him. 
“The fact that you have to ask…” you sigh with a sniffle. 
“Do you want me to go?” Barty asks.
“Yes,” Sirius answers.
“I wasn’t asking you, Black,” Barty snarls. “Potter? I’m not leaving you with him unless you ask me to.”
Sirius gapes at Barty. The Slytherin seemed genuinely concerned to leave you alone with Sirius, someone you had been alone with many times before. He doesn’t understand why people weren’t trusting him to be around one of his friends. He didn’t think he had done anything to earn that. 
“Stay,” you say.
The one word hits Sirius hard. He feels like he is going to throw up. In what world would you be asking Barty Crouch Jr. to stay? 
“What the hell, love?” Sirius asks. 
You shoot him a hurt look. “Burbage? Really?”
He groans and runs a hand through his hair.
“Is that what this is about? I thought we talked about this.”
You let out a cold and empty laugh. “We talked about this? No. You were just incredibly cryptic about some feelings you may or may not have as you let James run your life.”
“So you get with Crouch?”
You and Barty look at each other and make faces of disgust before slightly pushing away from each other, as if suddenly becoming aware of how close they actually were. 
“We… no. Absolutely not,” you stutter.
“I don’t… I’m taken,” Barty says. 
“He is,” you confirm with a nod.
You scoot back from the ledge, still sitting much closer to Barty than you were to Sirius. Barty does the opposite, leaning further over the railing and slumping like a rag doll. Sirius looks from one to the other. 
“Then what is this?”
“One upset person comforting another?” Barty offers.
“And you’re upset?” Sirius challenges, not quite believing him.
“You don’t seem upset nor are you comforting Potter. So that would leave me being the other upset person. Yes.”
“Whatever. Darling, can we go?”
“No?”
“Hey, come on.”
“No.” 
Barty gives you a wary look. Then he stands up, moving slowly toward the door.
“I’m going… to go. You two… need to talk.”
“Barty, no,” you plead. Your eyes looked ready to cry again. “Please, stay.”
“No, bye bye Barty,” Sirius says, standing up. 
Sirius claps Barty on the shoulder, walks him to the doorway and makes sure he leaves. Then he walks over to you and holds out his hand. 
“Come on, darling. Let’s go.”
You don’t take his hand. You spin where you sit to face away from him. Whenever he moved to be in front of you, you’d spin again. You know you are acting like a stubborn child, but you feel that you’ve earned that. He allows you to act like this for a few minutes before he gest tired of it.
“Pumpkin, come on. If you don’t come with me, I’ll have to go back and James will come get you.”
You make a disgruntled face and finally take Sirius’ hand. 
“What did Junior mean by we need to talk?” Sirius asks as you walk toward the stairs. 
“The Marauders need to get their shit together,” you say, not looking back at him and starting to descend the stairs. 
Sirius follows you, picking up his speed to stay just one step behind you.
“So it’s not just me?”
You stop abruptly. Sirius bumps into you and you have to grab onto the railing to stop yourself from falling.
“Prongs needs to keep himself in check. He needs to stay in his lane. Moony needs to stop getting a girl’s hopes up. You need to go after that one girl you like and stick to her. I’m tired of hearing about a new girl’s tongue down your throat every day.” You pause. You had brought their friend group’s name into it so you had to name everyone. “Wormtail… uh, needs to be less of an idiot. Get him a real sense of humor or something.”
“And you told Junior all of that?”
“Yes.”
You walk the rest of the way back to Gryffindor Tower in silence. Sirius isn’t sure what to say that would make you feel better so he settles on silence. You still sniffled a few times, but they were getting less frequent. You seem to be more furious now than sad, which was something of a win. When you enter the common room, you both keep walking to your individual dorms. You go straight to bed, closing the curtains around so that no one will bother you. Sirius is met with James, Remus and Peter anxiously waiting. 
“Took you damn long enough,” James says as soon as Sirius walks through the doors. “What did that bastard do to her?”
“Gee, no Thanks Padfoot, thanks for getting my sister back safe and sound?” Sirius mocks. His mind is still stuck on what you had said to him about all of them. He sighs. “If what they both said is true, they simply talked. She was crying; he comforted her.”
“What was she crying about?” Peter asks. 
Sirius makes eye contact with Remus. It seems like Remus knew immediately what she was crying about, but Sirius couldn’t bring himself to say it in front of James.
“Coudn’t get it out of her,” he lies. 
---
You follow the girls around Hogsmeade on Saturday. You don’t really care where the group goes and you are able to mostly drown out their conversations. Your brain is empty. It is easier for it to be empty than to think about everything that made you cry the previous night. 
Mary, Lily, Marlene and her girlfriend, Dorcas, carry their own conversations and manage to stick together as a group all day. They don’t seem to notice that you are in your head. They just make sure that you are still tagging along, not left behind anywhere. 
“It’s good to get out of the castle for a good, safe time,” Mary had told you this morning when she insisted that you come instead of rotting in bed all day as you had planned to. 
The group is heading back into Hogsmeade Square from Dogwood and Deathcap when they run into the Marauders in the cemetery. No one questions why they were messing around the tombs. With them, it is better to just accept it and move on with your day. The boys insist that they all go to the Three Broomsticks and end their day with as many butterbeers as they could drink. You, being determined to not talk to any of the boys, pinch the bridge of your nose as the girls enthusiastically agree. Lily hangs back as the boys lead the way to the pub.
“We could probably sneak back to the castle,” Lily mutters to you as you follow the group at a short distance. 
“So you’re delusional,” you reply. “James will most certainly notice you’re gone.” 
“They would notice you’re gone too… Don’t think I haven’t taken note of how quiet you’ve been.”
“I didn’t want to come here in the first place,” you hiss. 
Lily reaches out to grab your hand and interlocked your fingers. “Well, we can suffer through butterbeers together. And then rot in our beds tomorrow.” 
“Lily Evans doesn’t rot,” you snort.
You allow the girl to pull you into the Three Broomsticks after your friends. They somehow managed to push two tables together to accommodate their large group, which is an impressive feat given how busy the pub always was when students visited the village in troves. It doesn’t take long for Madam Rosmerta to get foaming mugs of butterbeer in front of everyone. The group sat divided by gender at the table. You made sure to sit on the same side of the table as James so if you accidentally looked down the table, you had a near impossible chance of making eye contact with him. It helped that he was at the complete opposite end of the table. Although Lily had said you would be suffering through butterbeers together, she is quickly engulfed into an animated conversation with Dorcas, Remus and Peter. Mary and Marlene were listening intently, but didn’t offer much to the conversation. James and Sirius appeared to be in their own world at their end of the table. You were content ignoring everyone’s conversations. 
You slowly sip on your drink, looking around the pub. A handful of Slytherins are sitting at a table in the corner. You somehow manage to catch Barty’s eye and you share a small smile. Next to him sat the blond Evan Rosier and he was throwing back drinks and laughing loudly. You could see what Barty saw in him. There was a certain lightness to him. 
“Mind if I sit here?” a voice asks, bringing your attention to a boy standing at the end of the table with a chair in hand. 
“What?”
You recognize him from classes. Davey Something, Ravenclaw. You never really paid him any attention. 
“Can I sit here? All my friends went back to the castle already.”
“Uh, yeah, sure. Davey, right?” you ask, pulling your mug closer to you.
He sits kitty corner to you, despite there being empty space across from you. You assume that he didn’t know that no one was sitting there. 
“That’s my name,” he replies with a smile. 
He glances down the table to the rest of the Gryffindors and Dorcas. None of them seem to notice or care that someone new has joined their table. 
“Anything interesting going on in Gryffindor Tower lately?” Davey asks, returning his gaze to you. “Most interesting thing to happen in Ravenclaw is a fourth year beat a seventh year in Wizards’ Chess.”
You chuckle and take a sip of your butterbeer.
“Oh, there is always something happening in our tower,” you say. “I slapped James. Argued with him in front of the entire common room. Sirius pulled an all-nighter for no reason. He’s also been snogging anything that moves in a skirt.”
Davey’s smile dips slightly. “Been snogging you?”
“No,” you say with an eye roll, before chuckling as you continue. “James banned him from being within a meter of me for that very reason.”
“That what you argued with him about?”
“Part of it. He’s been acting like I can’t handle myself. Like I had a simple chat with Remus and James threw a fit.”
“He got pissy because you were hanging out with his mates?”
“Yes! That’s also why he got slapped. Those were two different days…” You pause as you glance down the table. “And from what I can tell, he’s still on his bullshit.”
“Definitely is bullshit,” Davey agrees. His brilliant blue eyes looked deep into your eyes. “I think the whole castle knows how capable you are at handling yourself.”
“Do I really have a reputation of more than being the female Potter?” you ask, eyebrows raised.
“Oh, darling, you do.”
“Tell me about it.”
You take a drink of your butterbeer, draining it. Rosmerta is quick to bring around another one and one for Davey as well. You hadn’t noticed that he didn’t have a mug in front of him previously. 
“If you didn’t have Sirius or James as your perpetual dueling partners, you’d have trouble finding one in Defense class. You’re.. too good. It’s almost scary.”
You smile widely with a faint blush on your cheeks. You knew you were good at dueling. That’s why you went off to fight poachers when you knew where they were and didn’t bother buying potion ingredients that could be gathered if you ventured a little further than teachers normally approved. You had also been told by many teachers that you were exceptional at dueling, but hearing from a decently cute boy did something to your ego. 
“From what I’ve heard, you’re amazing in every subject. We don’t have many together anymore. But when we were younger, I remember seeing you taunt James whenever you got a better grade than he did… which was pretty often.”
“What’s the point of having a twin if you can’t be better than him,” you laugh. 
“Are you better than him at quidditch?”
You groan at that question. “No…”
“Darn. I was hoping you could make the Gryffindor team better.”
You lightly hit Davey’s shoulder playfully.
“Gryffindor is a damn good team!”
“Your seeker is trash!”
You take a second to think about who your seeker is. 
“Isn’t he a second year? Cut the kid some slack!”
Davey laughs. “But if he’s the best that tried out? I’m doubting the captain’s skills.”
“Too bad that isn’t a James diss. For some reason he wasn’t made captain this year, but he was last year. Quidditch politics baffle me.”
“I’d try to explain them, but I think they differ by house.”
“You’re not on Ravenclaw’s team?”
“I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have friends who are.”
“James likes to make it his entire personality so I’ve become fairly good at tuning it all out. There are better things to focus on.”
“Yeah? What captures your pretty little brain?”
“During the summer and over breaks, I’m a top-tier chef and baker. I honestly don’t know what my parents eat while we’re at school because I literally make every meal when I’m home.”
“You cook? Isn’t that what house elves are for?”
“Not everyone has, or needs, an elf,” you say firmly. “But, like, cooking is good for distracting my brain. Although I could be better in Potions…”
“You’re in N.E.W.T. level Potions. I’m sure you’re fine,” Davey assures you, placing his hand over yours on the table. “What else do you do besides dueling, cooking and looking beautiful?”
You feel yourself blush more. 
“Merlin, this sounds nerdy, but I really do love learning about obscure magic. Haven’t gotten my hands on any good books yet this year because they are usually deep in the Restricted Section and Pince has been watching it like a hawk.”
“Obscure magic? Very Ravenclaw of you.”
You were trying to not look at his hand that was still on yours. His gaze is fixed intently on you. You have all of his attention.
“I plan on either being an Auror or an Unspeakable after school so a deep understanding of magic is important.” 
“Look at you. Big ambitions.”
You look down at your empty mugs. You aren’t entirely sure when either of you had finished your drinks but apparently you had. You cast a quick glance down the table as well. You don’t know why you are relieved that no one was paying attention to you, all completely engulfed in one large conversation now. 
“Want to get out of here?” you ask, looking back to Davey.
He smiles widely at your suggestion. He stands up and pulls out your chair to help you up.
“Thought you’d never ask,” he whispers into your ear. “Lead the way.”
You take Davey’s hand and you head for the door. You make sure to bump into James’ chair. 
“Oops,” you say with a giggle before pulling Davey out of the pub into the autumn evening. 
James and Sirius watch you leave with equal looks of distaste.
“Where’s she going?” Sirius asks.
“Better yet, who the fuck is she with?” James follows up. 
The rest of the table turns to look but the door has already closed behind you. Despite wanting to follow them, Sirius and James return their attention to the group’s discussion about whether the foul smelling liquid from Gobbstones would cover up the smell of Amortentia. They hadn’t discussed the potion in class yet, but they had heard of the powerful love potion. 
You and Davey walk around Hogsmeade, weaving in between buildings. There’s easy conversation between you, nothing too deep or heavy. You can tell by the way he looks at you and lets his touch linger that he’s looking for something more, but conversation feels so platonic. It feels like two acquaintances getting to know each other, which is what it was. You can’t deny that Davey’s attractive, but there’s no draw to him besides a little bit of attention and maybe some revenge aimed at Sirius and James. You find yourself in the garden outside of the village, walking up to the platform that overlooks the Black Lake. The distant glow of Hogsmeade lights it up just right so it feels far more romantic. As you lean over the ledge, you wonder if Sirius’ method of snogging someone else helps you get over them. Looking at Davey, or his lip if you’re being precise, you debate giving it a shot. 
Then there’s a burst of noise that makes both of you jump and look over your shoulders. You can barely see the Three Broomsticks and the herd of people leaving it. It isn’t hard to tell that they are arguing. You can pick out James, Sirius, Lily and Dorcas’ voices. Both of you stare for a moment before looking back at each other. 
“What do you think happened after we left?” he asks. 
You shrug. “Not sure.”
“Don’t be rash!” Lily yells.
“I’m going to kill him!”
“James! Slow down!” Dorcas yells.
“When I find them, I’m going to kill him!” 
“And I’m helping!” Sirius adds.
“Like hell you are,” James resorts.
“There!” Marlene exclaims, her voice sounding more cheerful than the others. 
You turn to look at Davey nervously when you notice that Marlene is pointing in your direction and the group begins running. James and Sirius shrug off Lily and Dorcas’ grips on them as they tried to hold the boys back. The two are in a full on sprint with the rest of the group jogging behind them. It appeared that they came to the conclusion that none of them could outrun them. 
“Gudgeon, step away from her,” James snarls once he reaches the platform. 
Davey raises his eyebrows at your brother. “Why?”
“Because he bloody told you to, you git,” Sirius adds, heaving from running. 
“But why?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest as you turn to fully face them. “He came out here with me.”
“And you’re coming back with us,” James says. “Been a long day, time to go home.”
You hum and look at Davey. 
“I think I want to stay out a little longer.”
Davey smiles widely at you and then looks back at James and Sirius. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he throws an arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his side.
“You boys heard ‘er. She wants to stay.”
“James,” Lily warns as the rest of the group approaches.
She noticed before you that he had started to reach for his wand. James looks at Lily. 
“Lils, you must-” he starts to say, but then Sirius is ripping Davey’s arm off of you and picking you up to throw you over his shoulder. 
Your yelp of surprise is what cut off James’ excuse to Lily. 
“SIRIUS BLACK, YOU PUT ME DOWN!” you holler, trying to remove yourself from his grip.
“Ready to go?” he simply asks the rest of the group.
“Yeah, I’m good,” James answers, much more calm than he had been moments before. 
Davey watches as Sirius carries you in the direction of the castle, followed by James and the rest of the group. Peter and Remus bring up the rear, shooting him glares for having gone near you. While the girls didn’t seem to approve of how Sirius and James had gone about getting you away from Davey or why they had, they do seem to support getting you back to the castle.
“Sirius, are you going to put me down?” you ask, sounding defeated.
“No.”
“Why’d you leave the group?” Dorcas asks, moving into your line of sight.
“Too loud and hot,” you lie. You weren’t about to say that you were looking for a pretty distraction from the irritation your brother and boy carrying you caused you. 
“Just talk to us next time, yeah? We’ll leave,” James says. “Afterall, you know the buddy system.”
“I had a buddy,” you correct him. “Davey is a just fine buddy.”
“A buddy who just wants to get into your pants,” Marlene sings. 
“Huh?”
“He’s just looking for a quick shag, darling,” Mary clarifies. 
“Which is why we came to your rescue!” Sirius says.
“Rescue or ambush?” you grumble. “Maybe I wanted a quick shag too.”
The rest of the walk back to Hogwarts is quiet. Your ribs have grown sore from being slung over Sirius’ shoulder and your head feels light. At one point, you close your eyes and just listen to the crunching of leaves underfoot. 
“Alright, down you go, pumpkin,” Sirius says as you arrive at the entrance to Hogwarts’ grounds. “Figure you can walk from here.” 
He puts you down gently and all you can do is glare at him. You walk slowly into the grounds and the group takes that as a sign that all is well. 
“Marls, come on. I got something for you in the dungeons,” Dorcas says, grabbing Marlene’s hand and pulling her toward the castle.
The rest of the group follows suit, picking up their pace to get inside the warmth of the castle. You, however, keep your slow pace. You certainly aren’t in the mood to be sitting with them around the fire in the common room after you were literally hauled back. Sirius is the only one who lingers with you. 
“You alright?” he asks quietly, bumping shoulders with you. 
You sigh and look up at him. Damn those grey eyes and how warm they make you feel.
“Just tired of James acting like he controls my life.”
Sirius nods and takes a deep breath. 
“Come with me,” he says and holds out his hand for you to take. 
You hesitate. Your mind is screaming both to take it and to slap it away. How dare he offer his hand to you after being the one to carry you back? But, also, he was offering it to you, giving you the choice to take it. So you do. You take his hand and let him lead you down some stairs to a secluded area near the greenhouses. Light shimmers through their windows, giving the small clearing a subtle glow. 
“I think James would back off you a bit if I stopped listening to him about some things,” Sirius mutters, standing in front of you. A gentle hand tucks some of your hair behind your ear and lingers there for a moment.
He’s looking at you like he did that day on the couch, like you were the only one who existed in all of Hogwarts, in all of the world. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to understand what he was saying. All of your focus was on the hand that softly held your cheek. He takes a step toward you and before you can process anything, his lips are brushing up against yours. It’s soft and gentle and momentary. 
“I think I can tolerate him more if you do that again,” you mumble.
And he does. The second is still soft and gentle, but it lasts longer. It only deepens slightly when he places his other hand on your waist. Sirius is holding you with a featherlight touch like he doesn’t want to break you, but his hand never leaves your cheek. Inside, despite what you just said, he fears that if he lets go, you will disappear and leave him. 
“You could never be a checked box. Because you’re everything,” Sirius whispers.
“Then stop with your stupid list, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
"Good, because I think I like this a little too much."
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savanir · 7 months ago
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DP x DC prompt [8]
The observants have been pestering Danny for a while now. Something about a ‘kingly’ duty. 
Apparently there is this collective of ghosts who wish to conquer the infinite realms and have been sporadically trying to do so for the past… give or take six hundred years or so? maybe longer. 
After asking around it’s clear to Danny that they get more zealous with each year that passes.
so, ghost cult, world domination, realm domination? doesn’t matter, but usually dead cult folks settle down after their deaths, in this case however from what Danny understands these people are continuing what they started in life. And this is one hell of an ancient cult that’s somehow still relevant considering that ‘new’ members still show up and join their ranks.
But Danny is King now (much to his dismay) so it would probably be best if he just put an end to this matter once and for all.
Danny went in prepared and with backup that he told to wait for his signal should things go sideways. and then went in.
he expected a big fight, a huge mess, he would probably need help at some point cause unlike with most of his rogues this was a big group who were probably a lot more organized.
he did not expect the haunt of the cult to look like a mix between middle eastern and asian, a bad feeling was starting to creep up Danny’s spine.
The bad feeling got worse when Danny got close enough and was promptly surrounded by a group of ninja’s who had their weapons out. He felt himself promptly fall into a defensive stance that he thought he had long forgotten. Danny isn’t exactly sure what to do now though.
the stalemate is broken when one ninja speaks up in arabic “the heir has finally come to take his rightful position” and all of a sudden the tension is broken and Danny is left dumbfounded and with anxiety creeping up his spine as the ninja’s fall into kneeling positions.
“young master Danyal al Ghul, we are most honored by your arrival and here to serve you in death as we have in life”
Ah
Well shit
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obsessivevoidkitten · 5 days ago
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How to Hunt Your Alpha
Yandere Gender Neutral Omega Reader x Male Alpha
CW: Extremely dubious consent, stalking, mention of voyeurism, knotting, pheromones, scenting, scent marking, biting, marking, claiming bites, a/b/o dynamics, omegaverse, breeding cycles/heat, rut scratching during sex, feral sex, general yandere behavior, knotting, breeding, baby trapping, manipulative reader Word Count: 1.2k (This is a commission for @kittycatkandies who was very patient with me. I hope you all like it, this is the first fic I have written with a yandere reader.)
From the moment you saw Clark and caught a whiff of his scent, he had snagged your undivided attention. Now, you weren't the type of omega to just start swooning and let yourself be taken in by any nice-smelling, tall slab of alpha.
No, that's how you had been treated poorly in the past. There were many alphas who just wanted to slick their knots in any omega and didn't care about a relationship or even making sure the omega was satisfied during sex.
But when you passed an alpha on the street, caught his scent, glanced into those kind brown eyes of his, you suspected he was better than the fuck boys, douche weasels, and assorted sad soggy pieces of old toast you had encounters with in the past.
Still... it was just a suspicion... you had to get to know him a good bit better. He may not even be single, though he did not smell as if he was paired up and lacked any fresh marks on his neck. The best way to see if he was right for you was, in your warped mind, to follow him and see how he interacted with others. He definitely passed the test.
You had discreetly followed him back to his place so that following him in the future would be possible. After that you tailed him stealthily several different times. The first time you did so you learned that he volunteered at the nursing home keeping old folks company, another time you caught him donating to and doing volunteer work at the local soup kitchen, and the final proof you saw that he was wonderful and perfect in all things was when you learned that he worked at an animal shelter that specifically took care of elderly animals and those with health conditions.
On occasion you had even caught him wanking through his window. He was perfect in that regard too. The sight of that cock made you drool.
Throughout your many “information gathering” sessions you had ascertained that his name was Clark and he was, as he had initially seemed, single.
But you had a plan to change that. You’d have him begging to mark you up and slick his knot inside you.
You began volunteering at the animal shelter he worked at, making sure to ask him lots of questions, work diligently, and show off your compassionate, caring, stereotypical omega side that alphas always seemed to appreciate.
It worked! Well... kinda... not as well as you had hoped. The two of you had become friends to some extent, but he hadn’t put any moves on you in a romantic or sexual way. You’d just have to step up your game.
You knew he was the type of man to take mating and biting marks seriously. You just had to get him to that point, get him in your heavily scented apartment. And so, you formulated yet another scheme.
The next time you were in heat you endured it as best you could. Full force and with no suppressants. You rubbed your scent over your entire apartment. Every room was scent bombed with your pheromones. Especially the bedroom, of course. Then you wore a scent diffusing scarf and clothing. Then you went on to the animal shelter as usual.
The scarf and special clothing would hide your scent well enough. They were designed so that those who couldn’t or wouldn’t take suppressants could still interact with society without their smell causing chaos during ruts or heats. They did nothing for the other symptoms of a heat though. You’d still appear spaced out, flushed, and feverish. Which was just perfect.
Clark noticed and at the end of his shift he thought you were ill. He wanted to take you to the doctor, you refused though what he asked next was exactly what you had wanted.
“Please at least let me drive you home, you’re in no condition to drive!”
“Well… o-okay… if you insist…”
And so he drove you home and even walked you to the door. When you opened it he was hit by the scent of needy fertile omega and clearly distracted. He didn’t protest as you nudged him in.
Then you stripped off your scarf and clothing and he was hit point blank by fresh pheromones too.
“I… I um… wh-what… um I need some air.”
He tried to collect his wits and step past you but you blocked the exit.
“Just take a deep breath, I think the air is pretty good in here don’t you?”
He muttered something incoherently as you rubbed up against him and nuzzled into his muscular chest.
“Ah y-you’re in heat… Not clear headed… I sh-”
You took his hand and led him into the bedroom.
“Yeah, I’m in heat and you should help me with it~”
This was it. All your efforts were about to pay off. Your heart was pumping faster than it ever had before and your veins felt as if electricity was flowing through them.
Clark’s brain was short circuiting, though you could tell by his aroused scent and the bulge in his pants that he was going to do exactly as you wanted him to. He let you take him to the bed and push him onto it. You removed his clothing for him and stared at his full beauty, finally revealed to you. Well... finally revealed close and in-person.
He grabbed your sides and you wiggled your slick leaking hole right on to his large throbbing cock. He hardly needed to thrust, not with how eagerly you were bouncing up and down on his cock. He came in you quickly. The smell in the air and the feeling of your tight slicked up hole squeezing his length as you bobbed up and down on it were too much for him.
But he had plenty more loads to fill you with. And you weren’t going to stop until you were sure you were impregnated.
His knot swelled inside of you, locking the two of you together and reducing the fervency with which you could slam down on his dick. But the stretch felt amazing and the friction of it rubbing up against all of the most sensitive spots inside of you made you scream his name as you orgasmed again and again over the course of the next few hours.
The two of you were entwined in a near-feral frenzy of pure fucking. Scratching, biting, marking each other up in every place reachable by tooth and nail. Pheromone laden fluid leaked from your neck where he had put his claim mark and from his neck where you had put yours. Both of your eyes were glazed over, consciousness pretty much lost, bodies running on instinct alone.
You awoke the next morning with a smile of contentment on your face. You had successfully seduced the man of your dreams into a rut during your heat and had most certainly gotten him to fuck you pregnant. He was snoozing peacefully underneath you with his arms hugging you protectively. You wrapped your arms around him and let yourself fall back asleep on top of him, relaxed with the knowledge that he would never leave his well marked, pregnant omega.
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jellicatty · 3 months ago
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♯1 ┆ ❝ SUMMER BUMMER ❞ 𝜗𝜚 ᵎᵎ
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With your teases and flirty remarks, the two men find themselves guessing the color of your panties— another game they played besides golfing.
╰┈➤ contains : nanami x beverage cart attendant! female reader x higuruma. nana and higu golfing. masturbation. grinding. mutual pinning. innuendos. nana and higu are perverts here. jealous! higuruma. reader is a tease. reader wear skirts.
╰┈➤ note : EEEE FINALLY I POSTED THIS it only took me like a months... anywayy, sex scenes aren't really my forte plus this is like the first time i wrote one sooo don't expect too much (?).
╰┈➤ next : groupie love (coming soon) ...
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Defendants would put all the blame on him, the court's verdict is seemingly destined to oppose his favor. Or, that's what Higuruma thought. Another failed case, another living being failed by the country's unjust system, another alleged victim thrown into jail.
Higuruma though, knew that these circumstances would happen. His dream have lasted for centuries, formed by his compassion to deliver the accused to light. But little by little, his principles have formed cracks.
Although his workaholic nature is unfaltering, worsened by the multitude of paperworks, Higuruma does crave for rest. But, his work-life balance contradicts his need for relaxation. Until, the opportunity had arrived and he's now trudging to a bar.
To passerby, it was your typical, vintage bar that old and worn-out folks like him would visit. However, Higuruma saw it as a sanctuary for his deep troubles. From drinking with his colleagues or just simply letting his usually work-occupied mind slip away, his favorite bar had seen it all.
"One— No, three of these, please." His ever polite tone still there even as the hours of long work shouldered him down.
The atmosphere rivaled the comfort of his home, and it's probably why Higuruma had an liking for it.
"You're being carried away by your thoughts, Mr. Higuruma." The bartender was quick to notice his blank expression, placing his ordered drinks in an attempt to distract his mind from work.
But, the bartender knew Higuruma too well. Despite connecting only through brief conversations, and a short time together, the bartender had a sense of what Higuruma's state of mind is at the end of the day.
"If you want to take off your mind away from work, then I suggest doing something else for a change." Well, this hasn't been the first time the advice was given to the attorney. He's had his fair share of therapeutic tips from concerned people. None were able to fully convince him though.
"I don't... I'm too busy."
"You wallow in self-pity, yet do nothing to save yourself from it. I've met other people like you, people who find comfort in what makes them distraught." Instead of his duties, the bartender was now focused on Higuruma. "It doesn't end good for them. I'm sure you know what I mean."
"Yeah, I know. It's not that easy to let go of something that you've dedicated your whole life too."
"I'm sure nothing will be lost if you do let go for a fraction of a second."
"You're not going to give this up, huh?" Higuruma sighed, "Well, I'd like to keep a valuable customer." They both chuckled at the Bartender's wishes. After some thought and a drink or two, Higuruma was set on the decision to make some small changes in his life for once.
The problem is, what would be the change?
Gym was out of the question since he frequently did so. Hiking's too taxing and he can't leave his duties for a long time. Sports were a possibility, as long as it didn't physically exert him that much. Golfing, maybe? He thought.
"One of the gents at the bar earlier has been to the newly opened golfing course here."
Ah, golfing it is.
"I think that young fellow over there needs a getaway from their life, too." His focus turned to the younger, blond man sitting three stools away. A few bottles have been emptied, yet it was evident that he could go for a few more. Nothing outstanding from the man aside from his leopard-pattern tie. Just your typical, fatigue worker.
"Looks like you're also preoccupied with your mind, Sir Nanami. I take it as a bad day?"
"No need to say more."
Although Higuruma knew it was not the best to disturb the tired man, he thought that perhaps talking to him would make their mundane nights better. Maybe, to comfort him with the words he wished to hear.
"Sorry for intruding your conversation, but are you new here?"
"Nope. Been here for some time now. Just been a bit busy with some... grueling reports again." He winced at the mention of his work.
"Reports?"
"I'm a salaryman." Higuruma now turned his full attention on Nanami, filling his curiosity. He hands out a calling card, "Here, just in case." And for a brief second, Higuruma almost laughs at his own 'joke' that he always did with his new acquaintances. Fortunately for him, Nanami's humor was not yet stripped away by his boring profession and softly smiled at his friendly remark.
It's a simple change like this is what Nanami wanted. Nothing extraordinary, nothing too small to notice too. The two men shared their experiences, silently bonding over the heavy troubles they carried from day to night. And if they were being honest, this was one of those moments where they surely won't forget. It's like moments like this was there only escape from the tiring duties they must do.
Alas, the deepest night has caught up to them. The lulling blue tones that played throughout their visit no longer graced their ears. The only noise present was their chatter and the kind bartender's huffing and puffing of cigarette.
"You know, despite your gruff look, you're an approachable guy. A fun one too if you squinted."
"Oh, gruff? You should check a mirror, Higuruma."
The two men chuckled at their jokes, slowly packing up their own belongings before cleaning their surroundings. After they finished, they walked together outside.
The blistering cold of the night quickly breezed past the two men. A shiver and a small breath of fresh air later, they nodded at each other and departed from the bar with heavy steps.
The night was still young, and Higuruma's desperate for a change. Fortunately, Nanami Kento had arrived. Albeit small, Nanami still had made a difference to Higuruma's perpetual enervating days.
He doesn't want their interactions to remain just at the bar, though. Perhaps, he should suggest on golfing together to help the blond too.
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The summertime heat was merciless. As one could anticipate for this time of year. In the intense heat, Higuruma and Nanami were helpless. Their experienced selves took turns swinging their golf clubs, finding entertainment in their calculated swings and triumphant shots. Empty cups scattered on their table, their belongings left unattended. 
Golf seemed like a good start—and maybe their greatest choice by far. It was not only a nice diversion, but it also provided them with the ideal reason to spend time with their favorite entertainment—you, the beverage cart girl. 
Weeks have passed, and life has been more tolerable. The first golf meets with Nanami were riddled with a comfortable silence, as if the two men had known each other for a while. The only bond they had was formed on their sleepless nights and persistent work, yet conversations flowed effortlessly. With their unfading politeness and formal talking that stayed even during their golf meets. They both assumed that the other was righteous, and a man of good qualities. Damn were they wrong.
Refined. Upright. Gentlemanly. Those words that used to describe the two men were long discarded. Since your arrival, the two men had been nothing but good, their true colors spilling from the shells of who they used to be. Higuruma could still vividly recall the moment where their true selves slipped. Their gazes were fixed only on you that day, overfilled with joy once you asked for their orders in that sweet voice you had. And right after you left them with their hard rock problems to themselves, they turned to each other as if their eyes alone could communicate. A word did not need to be shared. They knew that you were going to be a problem.
"What do you think's the color of her panties this time, Nanami?" Higuruma positioned his hips in a more appropriate manner, then swung his club. 
"That cheeky woman loves pink," Nanami replied. 
Aside from golf, they engaged in another game — guessing the color of your panties. As suggested by Higuruma when he caught a glimpse of it a few days ago, this was now the two men's favorite pastime. To them, it seemed only fair since you'd purposely bend over to shamelessly give them a view of your lace-trimmed panties that matched your outfits.
"I highly doubt it will be pink again—" 
Out of nowhere, the faint noise of tires screeching slowly approached the two men. Puzzled, they looked at each other first, before turning around. Their eyes confusedly searched for the noise, before their gazes landed on the approaching golf cart— or rather, you. 
It was as if you were the oasis in the Sahara desert, quenching the men's thirst with your exposed skin and alluring smile. With your pastel yellow pleats that went inches above your knee, your tight-fit Lululemon jacket that hugged your delectable figure, and your glamoured face, you joyfully steered the cart towards them. 
Your beautiful smile greeted them, "Sir Kento! Sir Hiromi! I've brought you your drinks again!"  
Higuruma's typically vacant eyes had their spark back to them, the usual boring look it wore instantly disappearing. Meanwhile, the hard lines of Nanami’s face eased, his stoic demeanor softening in your presence.
You hopped off your seat and prepared their ordered drinks, blind to their improper gazes that seek your undergarment. 
Luck was merciful, and the world was on their side today when a breeze had swept your skirt upwards in a cartoonish fashion. 
"Oh!" Your cheeks flushed scarlet at the embarrassing incident, yet your hands take their time to pull down your skirt. 
Their eyes are quicker than your hands, ill-intent gazes finding your undergarment in a flash. Light pink and polka dotted, adorned with a small bow at the front. The kind of panties that he envisioned every night. Nanami snickered, proving himself to be right once again.
"Pay up," Higuruma grumbled, cursing the man under his breath. Their actions no longer define the men they used to be. Their gentlemanliness and polished attitudes dissipate into the air at the sight of you. 
"Thanks, angel. You know how to make our day better, huh?" Nanami returned your smile and took the drinks from your hand. 
Higuruma is not oblivious enough to overlook Nanami's full interest in you. He's sure that a deprived man like him would ogle at your frame. He applauded the blond's self-control because, God, mini skirts were the death of him. 
"That would beeee... 12 dollars!" 
"12 only?" Higuruma pulled out his wallet and handed more than the said amount, "Here, keep the change, sweetie." However, your hands clumsily dropped the money. 
Your breasts from the tight-fit jacket were threatening to spill out as you bent down to grab the fallen change. Although involuntarily, the two men were able to shortly glance at it and oh, my— what a sight. Two mounds pressed tightly together, sweat sensually gliding on your skin, the natural red flush adding more allure. 
Their throats ran dry, needing a refreshment as they were taken aback by the promiscuous view of your tits. There's no way that wasn't intentional, they thought.  
Although you often pulled those stunts, your shyness still lingered— a thing that they grew fondness for. You excused your blunder, timidly covering your face as you walked back to your cart. 
"Aw, you going so soon?" You knew Higuruma would call for you. After all, he enjoyed your presence and often was the one chatting with you. From his smirk though, you should have known he had something in store for today. 
"Come, let Mr. Kento here teach you some golf lessons." Higuruma's true goal of making you break in broad daylight is hidden under his hoax suggestion. Nanami, with his sharp senses, saw Higuruma's real intention, irritated at being his guinea pig for entertainment. 
Despite his annoyance, he gratifies the other man's idea. Now, he has an inexcusable reason to close the proximity between you. 
You asked the man in your honeyed voice "Would it be okay, Sir Kento?", so sweet it's almost sickly. His ears are focused on your saccharine voice, contradicting his jumbled thoughts that insisted he was sick of hearing it, fearing how much power your words have over him. His mind wonders; Would you have that same, sugary and sweet voice? Would your moans echo like candy, alluring and irresistible?
Nanami's attention was quickly drawn to you, looking up at him, his bulging biceps pressed against your tits. Your big, doll-like eyes are desperate to be taught. Nanami wonders again if you'd have the same look when he'll be ruining you.
"Pleaaseee! My shift will be finished soon!" Your pout was his last straw, a victim to your begging once again. Sighing, Nanami agreed to your requests. 
"Yay! Thank you, Sir Kento!" 
"Calm down, sweets. Mr. Kento here is going to malfunction if you keep on clinging to him like that." Higuruma snickered at Nanami's flustered face. "Oh, I apologize, Sir Kento!" You sheepishly backed away and regretted your actions. 
The truth is, it wasn't just the two men that had their perverse fantasies. You too suffered their charm. Whether it be downing the alcohol they ordered, or simply breathing, it always had been a distraction for you. Their Ralph Lauren polos hugged their bodies in a nice fit, outlining their flexed muscles that shone deliciously under their sweat and the sun's rays. Thick, defined thighs, straining their pants. Even when playing normally, their wealth and professionalism exuded, something that you found very appealing. 
"Bend with your hips, Y/n. Not your waist." Would it be wrong to say that you found his strict demeanor attractive? Would it also be wrong to think of the many things Nanami would order you to do in bed? 
"Aaand— Did I do it right?!" Nanami's advice went through and exited your ear. Your swings misaligned and your ball never reached the goal. 
"Gosh, you're a lost cause, angel. This is how it's done." Without warning, Nanami walked to your back. His proximity was sinful as his crotch settled at your ass, the sudden closeness eliciting a small, shocked gasp from you. 
"Like..." He's also affected by the warmth and comfort your ass gave, hot breath fanning over your neck. He extended his arm and put them over yours, guiding your own so you can swing in a correct manner. "This."
But, aiming for the goal was the least of your worries. Not when Nanami's cock is noticeably hardening against your ass. 
"There, you did it!" 
A mix of disbelief and amusement flickered on Higuruma's face. Regret washed over him as Nanami took his suggestion to another level, scolding himself for underestimating the blond's courage and will to tease you right in front of him. With no escape, he's now forced to watch the consequences of his actions unfold. Yet, despite the pure jealousy clouding his mind, he does admit that the scene was enticing. 
His thoughts are improper and vulgar, your flushed expression fueling him more. His train of thought is unavoidable though. Whenever Nanami teased you in broad daylight, publicly, and in front of him, his thoughts will surely be anything but pure.
"S-Sir Hiromi—!" Your voice cried, not for help but for his attention. A whore like you loved the attention. You loved Higuruma's disgusted scowl as he watched the two of you get handsy. You loved Higuruma's body, which reacted opposed to his shown expressions— his bulge visible while his face grimaced. 
But, his thoughts got the best of him, and you only wanted to share your achievement. 
"Did you s-see my shot? It was perfect!" You finally let out a breath when Nanami pulled away, not without a small, teasing comment whispered at you. 
Let him watch. 
Oh, you will. 
Another time, though, because Higuruma's jealousy was painfully cutting through the air. His patience was wearily thin, and it's all because you cannot stop grinding on Nanami's bulge. 
Determined to outdo the blond's ministrations, and also ease his jealousy, Higuruma chimes in., "You mind for a dinner together? Could tell that you need a break just from your eyes alone, sweets." 
The sudden attention left you light-headed, shocked with their unspoken rivalry. You had power and influence over them, and you know just how to use it. But for now, your mind could only focus on the fact that you were going to dinner with your client. You’ve overstepped so many rules and most probably going to be in trouble, but a night with a man like Higuruma Hiromi was something you won’t deny.
Nanami sees your excitement. Feeling the sprouted competition happening between him and his friend, he quickly interjects, "I still don't have your number either. What is it, angel?"
Higuruma's betting on all of his suits (which are all expensive, by the way) that Nanami's going to fuck his fist to your pictures tonight. And he wasn't wrong. Because, as soon as Nanami arrived home, his first thought was to check your socials (surprisingly, not his paperwork). He was initially confused since you had an innocent facade online. Shared religious quotes, pictures with family, not a single photo where your boobs are out for everyone to see. He's even doubting if he followed the correct account. The only confirmation he had that it was yours was the new story you had posted. 
It was you, right after your shift, posing in front of the mirror with a smile. Your caption about thanking the Lord for another day made him laugh. He's confident that you're praising Nanami for his ministrations earlier instead. 
Nanami also wholeheartedly believes you're thanking him too for pressing his hard cock on your ass. He's flattered, and fucking horny, still bothered by the stunt he pulled earlier. 
His erection is painful, and Nanami realizes how he could take care of it. Although feeling a bit perverse at the act he's about to do, he shoves his second thoughts away, eager to cum at a picture of you. 
His lengthy dick is in his hand, gliding against his tip, then sliding up and down. His pre cum coated the top, oozing continuously as he stared at your picture on screen.
"Fuuuck..." He groaned, eyes closed, panting at the pleasure he was feeling. He indulges in his fantasies, letting his imagination run wild. He thinks of you inside his bedroom, wearing nothing but your light pink underwear, with polka dots all over and decorated with laces and ribbons. The same panties that he caught a glimpse of that he's so weak for. He's curious about what you'd be like, but he knew your salacious nature, and figured that you'll be the same slut you are. 
God, if only you were here.
If you were here, it wouldn't be him toying with himself. It would be you, bouncing up and down, drool dripping from your mouth, as his cock fucks your pussy silly. You'd have that dumb look on your face, mind clouded in a lust-frenzy haze as you desperately begged for more. 
"Mhm! Sir Kento!" He knows you'd call out to him, your voice ever-so-sweet, whining and weeping at the fervent feeling of him filling you up. 
"Gonna cum inside you." is what he'd say if you were here. And you being you, you're fain of his request, straddling his hips as if it was made to be there. You wouldn't pull away. Instead, you'd remain on his dick as splurges of cum shoot out of it. 
"T-thank you, Sir" You'd thank him for drowning your sex with his cum. Nanami would only get hard again at your sweetness that managed to stay in the bedroom, and he'd flip you over and pound himself into you. 
His empty promises to himself would be fulfilled one day. But for now, his hand will do. 
"S-shit" His voice is shaky, body trembling at his intense high. His palm is dirtied by his cum that he hoped was inside of you instead.
Tonight, it will be his hand. Next week, it will be your mouth. He's certain of that— No, he swears it will be your small mouth wrapped on his cock. Perhaps, with Higuruma fucking you silly too.
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tags : @packsvlog @honeynanamin @rrssrios @misscigarettes @shokosbunny @shamelessdonutkryptonite @i1uvc4ke @dongh9e @freakadelik @tomurafrlover23 @sad-darksoul @glader13 @that-redheadd @beantokki @a-hidden-gem @joonsanswers @erenspersonalsexdoll @s-1-xx @shxniq @ilovetengen @zianaz-slvtz @jwnzlvr @wifenanami @20kglex @oromaangel @jejejjekskwl @s4m4nth4wrld @jaeminsmilk @alpha-mommy69 @lobsteeer @blackphoenix0718 @wrldldo @nappingmoon @cindyneko-strider @yumiecheesecrackers @rattats-world
© jellicatty | no plagiarising please (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.゚
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tchaikovskym · 2 years ago
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Read that left untreated burnout can lead to anxiety and depression. What a relief! I already know how to deal with those! I should just keep going yeehaw
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loveinhawkins · 9 months ago
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When Steve gets to his last year at Hawkins High, it feels like some kind of veil has been lifted right in front him. Or maybe it’s more that the veil’s actually been slowly lifting for years, and he’s noticing it all the more because it’s no longer there.
Either way, when he receives his yearbook, it doesn’t seem like the huge deal that his younger self would’ve made it out to be; he flicks through the pictures half-heartedly, doesn’t even care when the candid ones taken at sporting events catch him in unflattering poses, lip jutting out in concentration.
If he tried to voice his disinterest, Henderson would probably spout off some precocious shit about societal expectations, and Steve would pretend to nod sagely before stealing whatever dorky hat he happened to be wearing—it’s not like he could let the little shit suspect that he occasionally had a point, Steve would never hear the end of it.
The yearbook signings are predictably inescapable: people passing their books back and forth in class or in the cafeteria—and that one’s a risky move, with the threat of drinks spilling on the pages, whether accidental or malicious.
Steve thinks the fever’s dwindled out until he spends a free period in the school library. The seniors typically all bunch together in one of the far corners, the spots with the comfiest seats—loners included, like the perks of age for once outweigh the usual ridicule.
But that silent truce is not exactly being upheld, Steve notes—Eddie Munson is sitting alone at a nearby table.
It becomes painfully obvious when the signing starts up again. There’s a cluster of girls on the yearbook committee who initiate it, and soon every senior in reach is either passing over their own book or signing one.
Almost every senior.
It’s not like Eddie’s the only person ever to be held back. He’s not even the only one to be held back for next year, either: John Nelson off the swim team is in the same position, and he’s still been asked to sign.
But Steve knows that’s not what the source of exclusion is, not really.
He’s gotten good at spotting silent cruelty—good at avoiding it too, before his popularity gave him a temporary shield.
It’s all just bullshit, he thinks. It’s been a recurring thought lately.
He brings out his own yearbook because he knows it’s expected. When it’s finally passed back round to him, he ends up right near the seat opposite Eddie’s, just by chance.
But actually sitting there is his own choice.
He can tell that Eddie has spotted him even though he’s not looked up from whatever homework he’s doing; there’s a silent tension in the way he’s holding his pen.
Steve mulls it over before he asks the question. It could blow up in his face, but what did that matter, really? In the grand scheme of things, it would hardly count as a major embarrassment; it’s not like it’d be any more mortifying than telling his dad that he didn’t get into any colleges whatsoever.
So he pushes his yearbook across the table, because what the hell.
“Wanna sign?”
Eddie glances up. There’s a guarded look in his eyes, and Steve can almost hear him mentally replaying the question.
“Pardon?” Eddie says with pointed emphasis, like he’s daring Steve, let it drop and we’ll say no more about it, Harrington.
Steve doesn’t take it back. He shrugs and flicks open the yearbook, finds a blank spot and taps it once with his finger, a silent offer.
Eddie stares like Steve’s a riddle, like he’s wondering just who the show’s for—but the other students have turned away, have gone back to their seats, yearbooks temporarily forgotten.
Eddie’s hold on his pen relaxes, ever so slightly.
“You sure, Harrington?” he says. There’s still a wary edge to his voice, but there’s an undercurrent of something else, too, like he’s secretly amused despite himself. “Haven’t you heard what folks say? I could curse you.”
Steve scoffs. “That all you’ve got? I’ve dealt with way worse, man,” he says mildly.
A corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a surprised smile. Then it’s gone almost like it had never been in the first place, his gaze turning thoughtful rather than defensive.
And obviously this isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo at the whole senior year thing. Steve wonders if there’s a veil that’s been lifted for him too, wonders if he can see straight through it right now.
The bell rings.
Eddie stands up, gathering his stuff.
Steve thinks that’s the end of it: something that’s neither a success or a failure.
But then, lightning fast, Eddie darts across the table and scribbles something on the open page. Slams the yearbook shut and pushes it back over, and it feels like a challenge, like some of his caginess is back—like he’s just daring Steve to reveal that it had been a joke all along—
“Bet you’re counting down the days till you can hold your own copy, huh?” Steve says dryly, as he stuffs the book into his bag.
It’s a risk; he knows Eddie could easily take it as pure ridicule, could misinterpret it as Steve throwing the failed school years back in his face.
Eddie just shakes his head, but he could be laughing—the moment’s gone too quickly for Steve to know for sure.
“Nah, Harrington,” Eddie says easily, thrown over his shoulder as he leaves, “those things aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on.”
Steve doesn’t check the yearbook until he’s home. He eventually finds Eddie’s signature, simple black ink right in the upper corner of one page.
Good luck, Steve. —Eddie
Some of the letters are bunched a little too close together, drifting upwards on the blank page, as if they usually need lined paper to guide them—left-handed, Steve thinks vaguely.
Within a sea of scrawled nicknames and loudly enthusiastic messages, Steve finds that he kind of likes how mundane Eddie’s truly is. Likes the sign off with minimal fuss. Just “Eddie.” Likes how he was just “Steve”, too.
And yeah, if anyone needed to be told good luck, Steve thinks, with the kind of amusement that only comes from distance—pictures his past self, freaking out about monsters come to life.
He slots the yearbook into his bookcase. By summer he might forget about it altogether, left to gather dust as he works for 3 bucks an hour, but for now he marks its significance: something real, hidden alongside the bullshit.
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spacelazarwolf · 8 months ago
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before yom hashoah ends, i want to remind folks that sephardi, maghrebi, and mizrahi jews were also deeply affected by the holocaust.
this is by no means inclusive of all communities who were affected by the holocaust and its aftermath, i do not have the emotional bandwidth for that, but hopefully this gives you some insight into jewish experiences outside of what's usually talked about.
the jews of morocco, algeria, tunisia, libya, and italy were all subjected to the racial laws of the vichy regime or fascist italy, which prevented them from attending educational institutions, holding public office, and owning businesses and sometimes property. moroccan jews were protected from some of the violence faced by other jews of the mediterranean and north africa because of the moroccan sultan mohammed ben youssef, who was vocally opposed to the anti jewish laws. he reportedly told the vichy government, "there are no jews in morocco. there are only moroccan subjects." he believed he had a god-given responsibility to protect moroccan jews. "moroccan jews are my subjects, and it is my duty to protect them against aggression."
unfortunately, other jewish communities did not receive that kind of protection. algerian jews faced a pogrom by the local arab population in constantine, killing 25 and destroying several jewish homes and businesses. 2000 algerian jews were sent to concentration camps in bedeau and djelfa, where many died from hunger, exhaustion, disease, or beatings. 5000 tunisian jews were forced into labor and detention camps where over 400 of them were killed. in libya, there was a violent pogrom which killed 500 jews out of a community of 4000. 2600 of the survivors were sent to the giado concentration camp, of which 526 died. in tunisia, there was a violent pogrom which killed over 130 jews (including 36 children), injured hundreds, and left 4000 homeless. italian jews faced pogroms, the jewish ghetto in rome was raided and over a thousand jews were detained and sent to concentration camps. a total of 7680 italian jews out of a population of nearly 45,000 were killed.
in greece, thousands of jews were deported to auschwitz. as many as 50% died en route, and only 10,000 out of over 75,000 survived, a nearly 90% death rate. their homes were looted and their property was stolen, and when the few survivors tried to return after the war (a difficult task as the greek foreign ministry attempted to delay or prevent their return to greece), most were unable to regain their property and possessions, forcing most to seek asylum in israel or other countries.
egyptian jews were not directly affected by the axis powers, but extremist organizations like young egypt and the muslim brotherhood sympathized with the nazis and even secured nazi funds to distribute thousands of antisemitic propaganda pamphlets. sporadic pogroms took place throughout the 40's, stoked by political leaders like mahmoud an-nukrashi pasha who said to the british ambassador, "all jews were potential zionists" and dr heykal pasha who said "if the u.n. decides to amputate a part of palestine in order to establish a jewish state, ... jewish blood will necessarily be shed elsewhere in the arab world ... to place in certain and serious danger a million jews." this political extremism prompted the 1948 cairo bombings that killed 70 jews and wounded 200, with many more being killed in the riots following, and eventually led to the expulsion of nearly all egyptian jews, whose money and posessions were all confiscated by the egyptian government.
similar political persecution was directed at iraqi jews, leading to the farhud, a pogrom which killed 180 jews and forced tens of thousands to flee. though there were many who did not support the nazi regime or agree with their views, there were just as many in arab countries who did, in no small part because of active effort by the nazis to gain sympathy from arab populations who already did not get along with their local jewish populations. this led to several other pogroms that took place in the 30's and 40's across lebanon, syria, and british mandate palestine, including a pogrom in jaffa which killed 9 jews and forced 12,000 jews to flee, and another in tiberias which killed 19 jews (including 11 children), most of whom were stabbed to death.
it's understandable that most of what the general public knows about the holocaust is the stories of ashkenazi jews from central and eastern europe, because they comprise the vast majority of the victims. hopefully, this encourages you to do further research into the ways other parts of the diaspora were also affected.
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llycaons · 2 years ago
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hate it when I really like this cool and interesting work and I go see what else the author has written and it’s the worst possible things anyone could choose to write. im sitting there like
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