Okay I Just Finished Binge Reading This Series And I'm Seriously In Love,,, This Somehow Managed To Bring

yes PLEASE

baby wake up, new Rhysand art just dropped

🎨 by ignartcio

this early dancing (1/2) | sirius black x reader

Sirius turned the camera on your faces. You rested your cheek against his arm and smiled shyly, happy to see his handsome grin.

“Stop hiding. We need a good one to look back on,” he said seriously.

“We take photos all the time,” you argued.

“Indulge me.”

summary blindly in love with your best friend Sirius you find yourself sharing a room with him on a group holiday to the seaside. it wasn’t ever going to go any other way [11k]

warnings fluff, smut, marauders era, mutual pining, idiots in love, she/her pronouns used for reader, fem!reader

With your head sticking out the window of James Potter's people carrier you felt like you were flying, face tilted up to the sun to soak in the seaside warmth. You couldn't be far from the Potter cottage now, having played passenger as peacefully as you were able to for hours now whilst the boys took turns driving.

"Moons," Sirius said from behind the wheel. Remus lifted his eyes from the book he was fighting to read in annoyance - you hadn't left him alone since the trip had begun, and only with your head out the window had he managed to return to his well worn novel.

"What?"

"Pull her back in, would you?" he requested, nodding his head towards you. Remus' warm hand grabbed blindly at the short sleeve of your t-shirt until you conceded and sat flat again.

"Pull her?" James muttered from the front seat, tired from driving the first half of the road trip. "I barely know 'er."

"That 'barely' works," Lily complained from his side, though she wiped the hair from his forehead tenderly.

Marlene booed from behind Remus, which had her seat mates Dorcas and Mary laughing jovially. Emmeline took no notice of any of it at Remus' other side, also reading.

"I don't care how you do it, get her down," Sirius said in concern.

"She's down," you assured him.

"Lovely Y/N will live to see another day," Mary agreed, low voice soft and lilting.

You blushed from all the attention and shimmied down.

"She's embarrassed!" Marlene cooed, reaching over to pinch your shoulders.

Sirius peaked in the rear view mirror and grinned. "Don't be embarrassed, but please leave the dog like activity to me."

"If that's a sex joke, I don't get it," Emmeline said.

"And who does that surprise?" Remus muttered.

You laughed behind your hand, boiling now from the heat. You couldn't help from fidgeting, pulling the fabric of your shirt away from your sticky chest, concerned you looked a sight. Not that the other members of your troupe looked any better; Remus fought a good fight but ultimately didn't look as unbothered by the heat as he acted. James was openly complaining about the sun from the front seat, arguing that he should be allowed to sleep in the relative darkness of the back.

"Too bad, Pots," Marlene said, pressed up against Mary and Dorcas. Only the cool safety allowed them to maintain friendly contact without melting, you knew, and felt very jealous.

"We earned these seats fair and square," agreed Dorcas, legs thrown over your seat, sandal clad toes poking in between you and Remus.

"You cheated! No way can somebody win rock paper scissors 23 times in a row," James said conspiringly.

"Prove it."

You quite fancied that she'd cheated too, though you knew better than to give James any fuel for his fire. Sirius, despite the many years of friendship, had not learned this lesson yet, and so he said, "She definitely did."

"Thank you! Thank you, Pads," he leaned over Lily's arm to grasp his best friend's arm, "my bro."

"Ew, ew, ew! They're getting gooey!"

"They can't help their love," Mary said to Dorcas, patting her arm. "Don't give them too much shit for it."

Sirius leaned his head down to kiss James hand and almost crashed into an oncoming car.

"Lily! Tell your boyfriend's boyfriend to keep his eyes on the road!" Dorcas roared, sandals twitching.

You leaned forward to press your hand at the back of Sirius' neck. "Watch the road, loverboy."

"You got it, sweetheart," he said, eyes obediently on the journey ahead.

Determined to ignore the pleasure that shot through you at the sincere pet name you ran your fingers through the raven hairs at the back of his neck and noted how it was damp with sweat. You pulled the bobble from your wrist and pushed up onto your feet as tall as you could manage, neck craned against the roof of the van to pull his hair back from his face delicately until it was in a moderately neat ponytail at the back of his head. You made quick work of the bobble and tucked the piece you'd missed behind his ear.

"Thank you," he said warmly. Then, "Put your belt on, idiot."

You scratched the skin behind his ear lightly in acknowledgement, a silent you're welcome between you both, and sat back down.

James soon fell asleep against Lily's shoulder. She held his face to her chest tightly and kissed his forehead. You made yourself look away to study the book in Remus' hands.

Remus said something to you and you missed it, attention monopolised by Sirius' soft singing along to the radio. "Hmm?" you asked him, blinking.

"How's your car sickness?" he asked.

You smiled dismissively at your friend's concern. "Fine. Better if I don’t look down for a while.”

He nodded. You went back to your silence and found your stomach turning quickly after that, punished for trying to read while the van rocked. You pushed your face out the window again, eyes on the quick-approaching sea. It was a stunning blue, sunlight blinding you as it bounced off the waves. You squinted and held your hand up uselessly.

"Here," Sirius said, hand reaching back. He was offering his sunglasses to you through the gap.

"Thank you," you said. His finger danced a quick line over your hand, his own silent you’re welcome, and then he was back to driving.

You loved most about your friendship with Sirius the things you didn't have to say. You weren't sure when the scratching had begun, only that it had, and that the slither of intimacy drove you insane.

Pushing his sunglasses up your nose you turned back to the view. The lenses helped dull the bright light of the waves nicely but they did nothing for your best friend; Sirius was as golden as ever. You found him difficult to look at, sometimes.

"How far are we now?" Lily asked quietly, hand in James' hair.

"Not far," Sirius murmured, voice sending tingles through your chest, "and then our summer can really begin."

You gulped a breath of fresh air and willed the nausea away, not fully confident it was car sickness after all. Remus nudged you with his elbow. "You want a polo?"

You laughed weakly. "No."

"Might make you less ill."

"I'm alright."

He huffed like he didn't believe you. You were amazed at his ability to keep his eyes on the page and unwrap a polo mint for you at the same time. He pressed it into your hand. "Eat that, dove."

You smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

"Welcome."

You sucked on the mint and twiddled your thumbs. You wished you would've put your camera around your wrist rather than in your suitcase. If anything you could've been taking sneaky pictures of the back row for you and Sirius to pick over later - you were sure Marlene was dating Dorcas. Sirius was sure it was Mary. James swore up and down it was Dorcas and Mary where Remus shrugged and said it was nobody's business. Lily definitely knew and wasn't telling. Alice probably knew because Lily knew, and Emmeline was about as oblivious to it all as she was everything else.

You didn't know who was snogging who but you knew for certain it wasn't you.

Sirius caught your eye in the rear view mirror. "What're you eating?"

You bit the polo between your teeth and bared it to him.

"Working?"

You nodded.

"Alright. Let me know if you want to pull over."

"Fuck off! If we stopped every time Y/N gets sick we'll never get there," Marlene protested, and then, "Hey! Stop fucking pinching me."

"Be nicer," Mary said softly.

"You first."

"We don't need to pull over. I'm fine."

"Better we pull over then have the car smell like sick all day," Dorcas argued.

"Guys," you were almost begging now, desperate for the attention to be on somebody else, "I won't be sick."

"You won't be," Remus said firmly.

"Aim for Moony's lap," Sirius advised.

-

No sooner had the people carrier pulled onto the Potter cottage driveway had you thrown the door open to keel over by the front garden grass. You were breathing heavily in an effort to overcome the sinking feeling, more than relieved to finally be on solid, unmoving ground. You could smell salt and clay on the breeze, the sun-warmed grass soft under your feet.

Sirius came up behind you, pushing his hand over the skin between your shoulder blades.

He didn't say anything. You'd played these parts before: disapparation made you feel sick, too, and the floo, and brooms and trains and planes - it all made you sick to your stomach. You could barely withstand a piggyback.

You swallowed a heave desperately.

"If you need to be sick, be sick," Sirius said gently.

You wanted to tell him to fuck off, suddenly and unfairly infuriated with him. His hand felt like a poker on your shoulders and you wanted to shrug out from underneath his touch. You recognised that was insane and not an appropriate reaction to your best friend comforting you and so you let him rub what was intended to be a soothing path up past your shoulders and then down to the bottom of your back.

You could hear Lily cheering about the sunset. You could see the pink purple sky out of the corner of your eye and worried you were missing an extraordinary picture.

"Alright?" Sirius asked, noticing your stillness.

You stood up, nodding. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and shook you about, squeezing. "God, I'm sorry. You really can't handle it, can you? Poor girl."

You relaxed under his arm and let him steer you to the cliffside overlooking the beach where everybody else had gathered. The sky was a shock of cherry pink at the horizon melting up into a deeper purple. You felt your lips part at the sight. No matter how many photographs you took of the sky on your shoddy camera, it never looked like the real thing.

You and Sirius looked at each other and grinned. Your eyes darted from eye to eye, pupils wobbling, and Sirius pulled his arm away, patting you on the shoulder.

"Where's your camera? That'll be a nice one to commemorate our first night here."

You retrieved your camera from the boot and noticed Alice and Frank's car pulling in.

"Perfect timing!" you called to them, grinning. "Group photo."

Your friend's all piled in for the photograph. The girl’s gathered in the middle, Alice with Frank on one end and Lily on the other. James was pressed tiredly to Lily's side whilst Sirius had wrapped his arm around the exhausted boy's shoulder. Remus was begrudgingly pulled into the throng of women in the middle.

"Alright, guys. Say cheese," you said, raising your camera.

"Hey! It has a timer, doesn't it?" Lily protested.

"Set it up on the birdbath, love!"  James called.

You rolled your eyes but did as they asked. With the camera ticking you rushed over to Sirius' side, who pushed you in between him and James and stretched his hand back over your shoulder. He smelled familiarly of his cologne.

"Big smiles!" Lily said loudly.

You smiled wide. The camera flashed brightly and then everyone was laughing and rubbing their eyes.

"Merlin, that's bright," Emma whined.

Remus patted her shoulder in sympathy and then walked off, leaving her blindsided. James sat down heavily on the grass and complained he'd never drive again, and he certainly wouldn't be helping get the things from the car. Lily sat down with him in solidarity. They both laughed roaringly at everybody else's indignation and refused to move until everyone had put their things away. You stayed outside, trying to catch photographs of the sky while it still looked so lovely. When James and Lily weren't looking you took a quick photo of their dark outlines in the grass, both their hair splayed around them, heads inclined toward each other, hands twined.

You finally walked over to the car to gather your things, gravel crunching under your canvas shoes. They’d already been taken in. You frowned and let yourself into the cottage. All the lights were on and Remus was talking very crossly from the landing upstairs.

“This is a holiday,” he was saying pointedly, “I will not be sharing a room with you, Pads. I won’t sleep.”

“I know I’m handsome but you don’t have to stay up and watch me,” Sirius sniffed. You stopped halfway up the stairs to listen to them argue.

“You snore! You know you do!”

Sirius winced. “A good friend would pretend not to notice.”

“A good friend would release me. Please, Pads.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do!”

“Sleep on the sofa?”

“You’re being an absolute wan-“

“Room with me,” you said easily, ascending the last few steps.

Remus frowned. “I wouldn’t force him on you, Y/N.”

“I snore too,” you said, shrugging. “Won’t notice.”

Having a room to yourself had been the one game of rock paper scissors you’d managed to win between the girls with no partners (as far as you could tell).

Sirius was looking at you strangely. You backtracked. “I mean, if that’s alright. I can get changed in the bathroom and I’m an excellent roommate, and-“

“It's alright. It’s brilliant, actually. Thanks, sweetheart.”

You smiled brightly. “That’s okay. Wouldn’t want poor Remus to suffer you.”

Sirius frowned. “What’s with everyone’s vendetta against me? Am I such a terrible roommate?”

“Yes,” James called from the bottom of the stairs. “God awful.”

“Right,” Sirius said solemnly, pulling his wand from his back pocket. James cringed backwards.

“Let’s not make any hasty decisions.”

“Trust me, I’ve been thinking about this one.”

You pointed Sirius’ wand up at the rafters and giggled madly when they turned a fluorescent yellow. "What happened to our no magic holiday?"

James squawked. “That would’ve gone garishly with my lovely skin,” he said, preening like a bird. Lily rolled her eyes and patted one of his lovely brown shoulders in mock comfort. “There there, babe.”

Sirius was half pouting at you. “He deserved that one.”

“He didn’t. You’re all cranky from driving. You’ll be besties again at breakfast.”

“Make that brunch,” James called.

Marlene called down something in response that you missed as Sirius shut the door behind you. Your room was big enough to fit two single beds with room to waltz between them, soft white bedding atop raglan furnishings set in a neutral tan room with an en suite bathroom, it was nicer than your room at home. You set your wand and camera down on the nightstand and sank into the marsh softness of the mattress, sighing.

Sirius did the same in his respective bed.

“You okay?” you asked him, peering over your shoulder at his languid form. He stretched his hands over his head, shoulder muscles moving underneath his graphic t-shirt. You bit your lip and watched him indulgently.

“Tired. Are you still feeling poorly?”

You shook your head. Though he didn’t turn to look you assumed he’d sensed it, as words didn’t pass between you again for a while.

“You really don’t mind rooming with me?”

You fiddled with your bracelet. It was a simple chain, gold-plated with a small piece of green jade at the centre. Sirius had gifted it to you for your birthday and you hadn’t taken it off since.

“I don’t mind.”

“It’ll be fun,” he decided.

“Like a sleepover,” you agreed.

“Exactly.”

Where had this awkward space come from? You suspected you were imagining it, so afraid of revealing your fondness for him that you were now hesitating to talk to him. You didn’t trust yourself sometimes to idle in his company. How maddening that a confession rooted itself at the front of your mouth, always waiting for you to get too close, to feel too loved.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

He turned toward you so sharply you spooked yourself, scared you’d said it out loud.

“Picture?”

“What?”

“Let’s take a picture. Me and you.”

Your smile crept up slowly at the corners. You shuffled across the bed to make space for him and he filled it, strands of his hair tickling your face as he settled. He grabbed your camera from the bedside table and struggled through its workings until it was green and ready to go, moaning about how you could possibly get along with such muggle-like contraptions. You knew he was grumbling for the sake of it and that in reality he liked your magic camera just as much as you did. It was brilliant, really, you could take loads of photos before it got full and with a simple spell you could look through them projected onto the wall like a small television.

Sirius turned the camera on your faces. You rested your cheek against his arm and smiled shyly, happy to see his handsome grin. You thanked god that you could veto whichever pictures you wanted because as long as Sirius was pressed up at your side smelling like sweetness and himself so sharply it made your heart ache, smiling like he wanted to be nowhere else, you’d look like a lovesick fool in every photograph.

The flash blinded you.

“Is there a setting that doesn’t jeopardise our eyesight?” Sirius inquired.

You buried your face in his arm and giggled.

“Stop hiding. We need a good one to look back on,” he said seriously.

“We take photos all the time,” you argued.

“Indulge me.”

The way he said it - you smiled with teeth and didn’t complain.

-

When you woke up Sirius was still asleep. You moved to lie on your side so you could watch him breathing, tracing the rising and falling line of his chest, the hair he'd left in your bobble the night before, his soft sleep shirt peeking out where the duvet had slipped in the night time.

You could hear the clinking of dishes and easy conversation echoing up the stairs, followed swiftly by the smell of frying bacon and eggs, the sweeter scent of pancakes hot on its tail.

Sirius made a sound in his sleep. You reached your hand out over the gap despite being yards too far to touch him, lining your hand up with his head and pretended you were smoothing the soft strands of ebony hair from his face, tucking it behind his ears. You'd kiss his forehead afterwards, breathe in the smell of his hair or tuck your face in the nook of his shoulder, slot yourself by his side like you belonged.

There was a sound of smashing glass and a shock of laughter that made you both flinch, rousing Sirius awake. You let your hand fall to hang over the side of the bed, fingers an inch from the hardwood floor.

He blinked the sleep from his eyes and stretched, turning flat on his back. You copied him, pulling the blankets up over your nose.

"Y/N," he said softly, words warped by a yawn, "you awake?"

"Yes," you whispered, aiming for casualness and missing by a mile.

You turned your head and he was looking at you with a happy, tired smile. You smiled back and then realised he couldn't see it.

"Do you want to shower?" he asked you.

"I showered after you fell asleep."

He sat up and hunched over, hair falling in his face, necklace slipping out from under his shirt to dangle in the space between his chest and his legs. It was a chain with a thumbnail sized circle of silver hanging from it. You suspected it was engraved but had never had reason to get a good look, and were too shy to ask.

He scratched his face, his two days stubble. His hands looked funny without a ring or two, you'd never seen them early enough in the morning to catch him without them.

You pushed the duvet down and stared at the ceiling as he got to his feet and scrounged through his bags for clean clothes and his towel. You'd already shoved your toiletries in the bathroom last night.

"You want to go eat?"

You shook your head. "I'll wait for you."

"I'll be fast."

"Take as long as you want."

You should not have said that, you realised, twenty minutes later with a rumbling stomach and Sirius nowhere to be seen. You'd whipped up to get changed in case he'd been as quick as he promised, worried he'd walk in on you starkers. Lily had pronounced the first proper day had to be a beach day, so you'd put on a bikini top and simple white t-shirt with short sleeves and a pair of shorts over your bikini bottoms.

You picked at the seams of your crisp denim shorts and wondered if you should be wearing a skirt, no doubt like Lily and Alice would be. Marlene was likely naked or close to it, Mary would wear a sundress, Dorcas did as she liked and Emma might show up in a hazmat suit.

You pouted and leapt to your feet, rushing for your bag. You'd packed a beach cover up and so you might as well wear it rather than feel insecure in your shorts. You unbuttoned them and pulled them off, kicked them under your bed for now.

The bathroom door opened before you'd located the cover up. You looked up like a deer-in-headlights and Sirius was looking at you too, but he didn't look nearly so bashful. Obviously - there was no need. You were going to the beach and he was bound to see you in your bikini eventually, and still you felt naked as the day you were born.

You smiled fleetingly and crouched down to ruffle through your bags for the wrap skirt. It was plain and black, simple enough that you didn't feel as though it would garner much attention. You pulled it on and then found your sandals and put them on too.

Sirius hummed appraisingly. "You look nice."

"Thanks," you said warmly, cheeks heating, "you look nice too."

And he did, lean thighs showcased by a pair of dark swim shorts and a white cotton vest that hugged his chest keenly. You almost matched.

He'd tucked his necklace back under the fabric. Your bobble was loose around his wrist, hair curling and wet dripping on his maddening shoulders. He'd trimmed up his face but still had a shadow like he usually did. You wanted to run your hands over his face and feel the dark stubble under your fingers so instead you cleared your throat and whispered past him to the bathroom to freshen up.

You came out smelling much nicer and feeling cleaner, face all softened up by cleanser and moisturiser.

"You have sunscreen?" you asked him.

"Nah. Greek doesn't burn."

"Greek does get skin cancer," you said pointedly, pulling your shoulder purse open to check you had what you needed.

Sirius pushed the door open and held it for you, beaming down at you. "If I let you put it on me will you stop scowling?"

You relaxed your face. "I'm not scowling."

He'd tilted his head back and laughed at you all the way down the stairs.

James was at the stove, brown skin speckled by white powder. You laughed at the sheer amount of flour he'd managed to wipe up his own face.

He was on the defensive quickly. "Laugh it up! No pancakes for either of you," he said, pointing his spatula at you both. Sirius scoffed in indignation.

"Am I to be punished for everything she does?"

James nodded pensively. "Indeed."

Lily was sitting on the countertop near the sink. You sidled up to her side and opened a glass fronted cupboard to retrieve a glass to fill with water. She had a piece of toast in one hand and pushed your hair flat with the other.

"I love your skirt," she said.

Her's wasn't so different to your own, you thought, and then realised that was the joke. Her long legs were outfitted in a black wrap skirt that didn't so much hide her blue bikini as it accentuated it. She hadn't bothered with a shirt, which you applauded.

"Thanks, babe," she said.

"Such a pair of tits shouldn't ever be hidden. Ti's the true tragedy they must be encased at all," James agreed.

"What is this character you're doing?" Sirius spluttered. "You ridiculous man!"

"I doth not know what you mean."

You smiled to yourself and sat down next to Mary, who was looking pretty as a picture in her lilac sundress. She'd styled her twists into a half bun that showcased her pretty face, her dark skin glowing in the morning light. You felt a shoot of jealousy and then grimaced at yourself. There wasn't any need to be jealous - your friends were gorgeous and so were you.

Still, you found yourself ogling Mary's clear skin reverently.

"You're glowing," you complimented her, pulling a bowl of fresh fruit towards you, no doubt Mary's doing.

"Thank you! I got this new serum with almond oil that makes me really soft and dewy, and it smells really good too."

"Yeah?"

"Mm, from Boots. Oh, you want coffee?"

"No, thanks," you said at the same time as Sirius said, "You're a godsend, Mary."

Mary smiled brightly, lifting the pot of coffee towards his outstretched mug. "I know."

He sipped at his coffee with his hand on the back of your chair. You tried your best to ignore this and found yourself on ends anyways, wondering what the back of your head looked like.

He stole fruit from your plate and wouldn't back down, even when you started fighting back with your fork. You'd almost speared him when Marlene walked in with Dorcas looking dazed behind her, grinning. "We're ready."

"I'll grab Remus and then we'll go," James said, untying his apron. There was a naked square where it had been, and he looked down at it frowning. "After I change my shirt."

"Thanks for the pancakes," Emma called after him.

"You're welcome. At least somebody appreciates my efforts," James said from the bottom of the stairs.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Get a load of him. Makes breakfast and now he's Saint Lucy."

You smiled up at him. "He can be whatever he wants if he's making pancakes every morning. Though Saint James has a terrible ring to it."

Sirius wiped the corner of your mouth with the tip of his index finger. "Wasn't he beheaded?"

You shrugged, biting back a laugh. You didn't know why you were smiling so wide but Sirius was, and his beatific grin was contagious.

"I hope you aren't planning to execute my boyfriend," Lily said, jumping down from the countertop. Her red, smooth hair moved in a sheet behind her.

"Don't think of it as an execution, Lils."

"An exoneration," you suggested.

"A freeing."

James pushed into the kitchen with a knackered looking Remus at his side. "I've saved you so many pancakes, Moony, you wouldn't believe it. You'll be fed for days."

"Thank you, James," Remus said, rubbing a hand through his depressed hair.

"Eat up, darling boy," Sirius said loudly, "you look as though you're on the edge of death."

"I might have slept too well," he admitted sheepishly.

Sirius looked at him then and all his care melted into outrage. "Your hubris befalls you."

"Did we all decide to speak like this today or did I miss the memo?" you asked, more to yourself than anyone else.

"T'was not a decision! T'was a calling from the heavens," James piped in, looking much cleaner in his new vest and open button-up.

"T'was a twottish calling," Marlene said, laughing. This sent peels of laughter through the room and after a good chuckle, eventually everyone was smiling and ready to walk down to the beach.

Why you'd all waited to go together was a mystery, it was hardly a five minute walk down the path from the cottage cliffside before you were breaking out onto a gorgeous white stretch of sand kissing clear blue waves.

Sirius and James had carried the picnic basket between them. Lily had the cooler. You'd deigned to carry the blankets and towels and refused anyone's help, almost tripping over a piece of driftwood. You let the linens fall into the soft sand and felt the grains of it sink into your open sandals, wiggling your toes.

Your camera bounced at your chest as you traipsed over to the cooler, searching for something cold to hold against your head. It had been noon by the time everyone was ready to head out and so the sun was already making itself known, beating down on your shoulders.

"It's gorgeous," Lily said brightly.

"We'll have a bonfire tonight," James said.

Marlene laid a towel out and put her stereo, her prized possession, down on it carefully. She clicked a button and set the volume low, and the beach was suddenly alive with the hum of The Rolling Stones.

You and Lily spread the biggest blanket out away from where James had begun forming a rock circle for the barbecue and sat down on it with matching peaceable expressions, soon joined by Emmeline and Remus. Mary, Dorcus and Marlene set their towels up at the edge of the blanket and were quick to begin sunbathing.

Marlene was likely going to burn herself to a crisp trying to tan. Lily pulled the brim of her sunhat down and began slathering sunscreen over her pale legs, her stomach and chest.

"James!" she called, "come do my back, please?"

He perked up like an excited puppy. "Oh, Lilykins, you charmer."

"If I'd asked anyone else you would've sulked all day."

"Yes I would've. Now stay still, I need to get your beauty mark."

"Mole."

"Mole, whatever. Most marks on you are pretty, I get confused."

You looked down and made yourself busy covering your skin similarly in sunscreen, bringing your knees up to massage the cream into your legs and feet. You'd just managed to get your arms when a shadow was towering over you.

"What, Sirius?" you asked.

He smiled impishly. "You gonna get my back too?"

The comment made you giggle nervously. "In the event the sun could even reach your back then sure, I'd get you."

He crouched down. "You haven't rubbed it in properly. Let me," and he was touching your face, mouth so close you felt his exhales on your eyelashes. He spread the sunscreen with his thumb in a broad swipe across your cheek. "You don't think you're going overboard?"

"There's nothing overboard about protection."

"No glove, no love," he agreed under his breath.

You batted his hands away. "Grow up. Go help James make his firepit."

"Yes ma'am."

-

Later, you were wading through the shallows, full of barbecued foods and sparkling cider and trying not to get pushed over. The others had insisted on playing chicken and you were watching from a distance. Lily and James were the winning team, closely followed by Lily and Sirius when James got sand in his eyes.

Emmeline from atop Remus' shoulders pouted and called for justice. "Lily is obviously too good. We're never gonna win."

"Fuck you, Em! I'm at least half the team,” Sirius said, offended.

Remus tightened his hands on Emma's calves, who was wobbling as she shook her head. "The common denominator is Lily."

Lily was calling and laughing. "Quite right!"

"Sweetheart, I know you don't like chicken, but it's for a better cause, Sirius said, turning his determined gaze on you.

"Wha-" He bent down, ushering Lily off his shoulders, and you understood what he meant. "Sirius, no."

"Come on! I'll do your dishes all week."

He usually did them anyway.

"It'll make me sick."

"It won't!"

You began protesting again and he trudged towards you, big hands on your arms. He looked particularly handsome, damp and sun-kissed, eyes big with happiness and smiling like you were something good. "Get on my shoulders, Y/N."

"Fine. Just one,” you gave in, pulling your shirt off. You tossed it in the direction of your towel and set your begrudging eyes on his legs, sulking.

"Good sport!" James cheered, flat on his back stoking the small fire.

Sirius led you out into the deeper water and knelt down so you could climb over his shoulders. Once seated he got to his feet, eliciting a terrified moan from you. You grasped onto his neck tightly with your face smashed into the back of his head.

His grip was unfailing on your thighs. "Relax… I won't let you fall."

You loosened your headlock incrementally.

"Good girl. How we feeling?"

You felt a shot of pleasure at his words, and then with horror recognised that your crotch was literally at his neck.

"Y/N?"

"Great. Good. Let's do this shit," you declared, hands precarious at his neck.

He laughed and turned you to face the others. "That's my girl."

-

Having defeated everyone who tried to beat you at chicken, you and Sirius were very obviously feeling closer to each other, and it was infuriating everybody.

"We get it! You're good at chicken! Shut the fuck up!" Remus complained, book flat on his chest to glare at Sirius, who had been lamenting your victory with his shoulder pressed to your shoulder.

"So bitter," Sirius said suavely, running his hand up Remus' sand crusted calf, "somebody sounds a little jealous, Remy-poo."

You crinkled your nose and shook the crisp packet in your hand, looking for a nice one. James leaned over your shoulder to grab a handful and you let him, smiling at your friend. He had Lily's head in his lap and looked as blissful as a man could look.

"I hope you aren't talking to me, Remus," you said, feigning hurt. Usually he could be tricked into being his softie self but he was really quite irritated by Sirius' gloating.

"Get fucked, Y/N."

You laid your head on Sirius' shoulder, your hand on his thigh. He dug through the crisps and offered you a flavorful looking one before stealing some for himself. You knew you were pushing it - this was bordering the platonic boundary - but, high on victory and your friendship, you couldn't help yourself from cuddling up to him.

He didn't seem to mind anyhow, making conversation overtop your head as easy as breathing. You stretched your arm out blindly searching for your camera until you found it, clipping the lense cover off. You clicked the camera on, zooming in on your leg against Sirius'.

"Nice legs."

"Testing," you told him, though you hadn't been.

You twisted around to take a photograph of Lily and James, who didn't protest, Remus with his head on Mary's thigh, who did. You got a wide shot of Frank, Alice, Dorcas, Marlene and Emma playing cards before zooming into Marlene, who was leaning back on one arm, a cigarette dangling between her teeth. She took a lazy drag and laid her hand of cards out flat. "Read 'em n weep, ladies."

Dorcas groaned. "Right, I'm done. Anyone else wanna watch a film?"

"My brains fried," Alice said, nodding.

"I want my pyjamas. And a shower. Not in that order," Lily said.

Soon everyone was getting to their feet and groaning. "I have sand in places sand shouldn't be," Emma said morosely, helping you gather the sheets.

"The boys'll stay for a kick about?" James said, looking between his mates.

"No cheating this time, Prongs," Remus started.

James held up his hands. "Scout's honour."

"You didn't get in scout's, mate. Brownie's honour, at best," Frank said.

A headlock ensued. Sirius jogged over to you with his rings in hand, "Have these for me?"

"Yeah, no problem."

"Sweet," he said, kissing you on the cheek. "Shan't be long. Quick, get back before the gnats come out!"

You looked at his rings in your hand, warm still, and felt heat rise to the tops of your ears. Lily threw an arm around your shoulder and you were off up the lane. Marl had already thrown the door open, letting in the summer breeze to break through the humid heat kept in the house while you were gone. Lily rushed upstairs to catch one of the showers, citing a deep rooted annoyance at the sand in her bikini top.

You went into the kitchen and put your purse and Sirius' rings down on the countertop and started putting things away, binning everyone's leftovers and setting the plates in the sink. You'd spelled away the crumbs and food and was about to get to the dishes, hot water running and sleeves pushed up when you realised you weren't wearing your bracelet.

Your heart skipped.

It took a moment to sink in. You looked at your blank wrist in bizarre confusion, turning your hand like it might be hiding. No such luck. You scoured your eyes over the kitchen and spotted no signs of it, hand moving up to push against your forehead.

You walked out the way you came and traced the hall, the porch. You ran up the stairs two at a time and burst into your room, nosing through your bags, then did the same in the bathroom. Your chest felt tight as you stood there, walls white and blinding.

You stumbled back into the bedroom and Sirius was in the doorway.

"What's wrong?" he asked instantly.

Your eyes darted to him and then back to your bedroom floor. "My bracelet. I can't find it."

"When'd you have it last?"

"This morning. Definitely before we went to the beach."

You paled.

"Doll, don't worry-" he started, worried by your expression. You moved past him before he could finish and fled down the stairs for your purse in the kitchen. You'd looked through it once, but it didn't make sense - maybe you'd taken it off to play chicken? Unlikely. You never took it off, not ever.

"D-" Sirius was again cut off by you, eyes widening as you tipped your purse out on the kitchen floor. You picked through the contents, despairing.

"It's not here," you murmured.

Sirius was by your side. "Have you summoned it?"

You shook your head, laughing bitterly, "I put anti-spellwork on it after James turned it into a snake."

Sirius laughed and then smarted, clearing his throat.

"Right. Sorry."

Your eyes filled with tears. You looked at the bright kitchen light and willed them away.

"Hey," he said softly, moving into your eyesight, "don't cry, bub. I'll get you a new one."

You blinked, moving your head left to right like the movement might stop the overwhelming emotion. "Sirius, I want that one."

He bit his lip, pulling his hair. "Alright. Get your shoes back on and we'll go look down on the beach, yeah?"

Sirius pulled his jacket on and pulled his wand out with a Lumos at the tip, eyes steadfast to the ground as you walked. "What's it look like?"

"Sirius-" you began, feeling a little hurt.

His smile came up on one side. "Kidding, kidding. Can't forget the damn thing if I tried. You've only worn it since we were seventeen."

You rolled your eyes, momentarily forgetting the task at hand. "You know any metal-detecting spells?"

"You'll be lucky, it's made of plastic."

You chuckled weakly.

He grabbed your shoulder, digging his thumb into your skin. "Hey, don't worry about it. We'll find it. And if we don't, I really will get you a new one."

"I - it's not like that. It's special. You gave it to me, you know? It's like," you cut yourself off.

"What?" he asked, grinning smugly.

You kicked sand under your shoe. You were almost at the beach now, the tide having moved far out. You only hoped your bracelet wasn't somewhere in the waves, never to be seen again.

"Y/N?"

"It's like my piece of you."

You peeked out the corner of your eye at his expression which had gone slack at your confession.

"Right. Right," he picked up his pace incrementally, "let's get digging. We'll shovel the whole beach if we have to."

And you did, looking through the hills of sand until the sky was darkening and the sun was a yellow beam across the ocean, a multicolour spectral that splashed up your skin and drenched you in pinks and orange.

Sirius was similarly sky stained and on his knees, digging around where you'd been sitting again.

"It's alright. Let's just go back."

Sirius shook his head. "I'm gonna find this bracelet, babe."

You hugged yourself.

"Seriously, Black, let's go home. It's pointless."

Sirius ignored you, crawling over to the firepit. "Oh," he said. And then, "Found it."

He held it up between pinched fingers. "Not so pointless, as it turns out."

You couldn't believe your luck - his luck - couldn't believe it was there to find. Sirius staggered to his feet, legs completely covered in sand. You almost threw yourself at him, pushing him back with the force of your hug, wrapping your arms around his waist and then pulling back to accept the bracelet. He wrapped his own arms around your neck, holding you.

You basically danced in his hold. You stole your arms back to put the bracelet back on.

"I have great taste," he said quietly, arms still at your neck.

You laughed, really laughed, felt your chest heave with the force of it, and then you lost any and all sense of reason, any self preservation, looking at Sirius' handsome face. He was looking down at you all homespun and glowing with the sunset at his back and you couldn’t have stopped yourself from kissing him if you tried.

It caught you both by surprise. He made a small sound in the back of his throat and stilled. You pulled away quickly, still laughing (albeit scared to death) and he brought one hand up to the back of your neck to bring you back in.

His kiss was warm. He tasted of fruit juice and…

"Have you been smoking?" you asked, mouth poised over his.

He stopped short, moving the hand that was cupping your neck to your cheek. His eyes were brilliant, pupils dilated.

"No?"

"I think you have. You know those things are going to kill y-"

He kissed you again. His lips were firm, pushing down with enough force to make you retreat a step. He followed, kissing and kissing. You broke it off to finish scolding him, heartbeat in your ears.

"You'll get cancer. Is that what you want?"

He shook his head in disbelief, hand smoothing the side of your face twice quick.

"Why are you so obsessed with my having cancer?"

"Because you purposefully take stupid risks and don't think about the consequences!"

"Fucking hell," he said, chuckling, eyebrows high.

His laugh was contagious - you were so tiffed with him and so happy about the bracelet and so hot where his arms were wrapped around you, burning at his bare hand on your face. You pecked the corner of his mouth and then the other. "Idiot," you breathed.

He caught you while your mouth was still open.

You realised suddenly that you were kissing your best friend, your favourite person in the world, who you'd been half in love with since you met and more and more every day.

He was kissing you back. He was leading.

His tongue was in your mouth.

You pulled away to question him, planning on asking him what he was even doing, why was he kissing you back? He should've pushed you away, and why was his hand at your lower back? Why was he touching the naked skin there like you were something precious?

He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead on yours.

"Is it bad that I kind of like you calling me names?"

"It's terrible," you said, pushing up, mouth a millimetre from yours. When he leaned down so that your lips were touching, you hesitated coyly. "Anything else you like I should know about?"

He pushed his fingertips into your waist and smiled when you squirmed.

"Quite like your bikini," he murmured, kissing you chastely, "worse," he moved down to kiss your jawline, "I like what's underneath it."

You laughed in surprise. "That's the best you could come up with?"

"Careful," he said, punctuating the warning with a nip.

His fingers found the bow tying your bikini top shut. He tugged at one of the ties gently. Maybe he was waiting for your permission, or protest, or something, but you could only stand with your chest heaving with excitement and trepidation both. Slowly, he drew the tie open. The seconds stretched, you could barely look at him where he was unblinking, unflinching. It sprung undone, and his hands moved to the one at your neck. He was even slower the second time around, gaze heavy-lidded. Your faces were close enough that you were breathing in the others exhale, stealing air from his parted lips.

The fabric was slipping away, and suddenly Sirius was pressing you flat to his chest, hugging you tight. You frowned in confusion as he manhandled you to be where he'd been standing seconds ago, bare chest against his shirt. Frank and Alice were at the edge of the sand, holding hands. Alice gave you a knowing look.

"Wh- hi, guys!" you shouted, maybe too loudly.

"Sorry, we were coming for a walk! Didn't realise you were already down here!" Frank called, laden with innuendo.

Sirius had turned his head to laugh but was covering your naked chest by standing in your path. "That's alright, Y/N here was just cold. In fact…" he slipped his jacket off, stuffing your discarded bikini top deep into the pocket. He wrapped it around your shoulders and zipped it up, hands uncharacteristically shaky.

He stepped away from you casually. "We came to find her bracelet."

"D'you find it?" Alice asked curiously.

You pushed the sleeve of your borrowed jacket down and held your wrist up, "Sirius found it."

"Brill," Frank said.

“Yeah, we were just leaving,” you said. “Ssssssso, we’ll get out of your hair.”

You laughed and nodded, agreeing with him as Sirius steered you towards the couple and then past them. "See you in a bit, lovebirds," Sirius shouted over his shoulder.

The walk up to the house was clearly nervous.

"Thanks," you told him, embarrassed, "not sure how many people I can deal with seeing my tits before it's a problem."

"Don't mention it," he said. He didn't sound quite like himself. You bumped his shoulder with yours.

"Is… is everything okay?"

He came into himself a bit then, as if he were shaking off a layer of dust. "Can't believe Longbottom cockblocked me," he said, and winced. "Not that-"

"Who said he did?" you asked lowly.

He looked sideways at you and then down at his shoes. He smiled.

-

Sirius held his index finger against his lips, opening the front door to the Potter beach cottage as quietly as he could. You nodded, a picture in his jacket. Each time he remembered you were wearing nothing underneath he had to take a moment for himself and breathe a ragged inhale. He flicked his eyes to the evening sky before pushing open the door.

The floorboards were thankfully silent. The stairs didn't groan. He was halfway up with you flush to his back when James said, "Sirius?" from his room.

Sirius opened his mouth, unsure whether to answer. You shook your head despairingly.

He shut his mouth. You both stood silent on the stairs, staring at each other with his heart in his throat. James didn't call again, and so you finished creeping up the staircase and then across the landing. He ushered you into the room first and then followed behind, shutting the door. He stood there for a moment, listening.

When he turned back you were cleaning up the contents of your purse from the floor hurriedly. He peered down at you, the big light stretching his shadow and leaving you in darkness. You zipped your purse shut. Looking up at him from this angle, he could see a triangle of your chest. He offered his hand and you took it. Pulled to your feet you wobbled, wavered, looking at him like you wanted to touch him and weren't sure you were allowed.

He rested his hands on your shoulders in what he hoped was a placating gesture. Your smile was sweet and soft as he traversed down your sternum to fiddle with the zipper on his jacket, pulling it down an inch and then up half, down another inch.

"Sirius…" you whispered, reproach in your gaze.

He tilted his chin up proudly. "Sweetheart."

"Are you gonna mess with me all night?" you said, words tinged with anxiety. He laughed at your neediness.

"Maybe I will… I've been known to play with my food."

"Gonna eat me?"

"Gonna try," he affirmed, pulling the zip down steady.

You went to take the jacket off and he stopped you.

"Keep it on, won't you?" It didn't sound much like a question.

He didn't think about it - didn't second guess himself. He spread his palm flat over your breast and took your beaded nipple into his mouth, mouthing your breast in a heavy kiss. Your hand went to his hair so gently he almost felt sorry for being rough. Almost.

He moved to your other breast and felt his chest burn when you giggled breathlessly. He learned the curve of your waist under his calloused hand, kneading your softness.

He took your nipple between his teeth very gently and tugged. Although you made no sound, your hold in his hair tightened which told him everything he needed to know, abandoning your hip to pay special attention to your tits. He smiled at the goosebumps spreading over your body.

You made a sound like a hiccup. His dick jumped where it tented his shorts.

Determined to catch any similar sounds he returned to your perfect mouth, guiding your face to his. He pressed his other hand against his cock and prayed you didn't look down just yet.

You were eager and attentive, trying to get as close to him as you could, hands roving his chest. He walked you backwards into his bed, didn't think about the sand covering you both until it was ruining his sheets. He broke the kiss to retrieve his wand and you chased him. He allowed you a quick peck and then pulled his wand from his pocket, expunging the sand, locking the door and muffling the room from between your legs. Then he set aside the damned thing and pressed his knee between your thighs, pushing your head down into his pillow.

And how many times had he envisioned this?

You, warm and ethereal, laid out in his bed.

Himself, breathing fast and desperate and willing to do anything you wanted.

You pushed your cheek into his pillow shyly and grinned, squinting from how wide you were smiling. He smiled back, not as wide or openly, but hopefully enough.

"You sure you wanna do this?" he asked you quietly, running his hand over your hair.

"Mmm… you'll have to be more specific," you whispered, words so quiet he had to lean down to hear them.

He kissed your cheek, lingered there.

"Gonna make me say it?" he said. He was going for sexy, obviously, but with you affection tinged every word, had them rolling off of his tongue pleased and covered in sweetness like dark honey.

"I might do," you whispered, tone taking on a similar fond-sticky quality.

He ran his knuckle down from your temple to your jawline and then back up, touch soft. He flitted underneath your eye before flattening his hand to push his fingers underneath your ear, pad of his thumb poised over the very top of your cheekbone. He marvelled at how his hand fit perfectly in the space there like it had been made to rest against your skin.

"You're very quiet," you murmured, pupils wobbling.

"'M thinking," he murmured in turn, punctuating with a broad sweep of his thumb.

"'Bout what?"

His other hand smoothed over the soft flesh of your abdomen sinking down, down to the elastic of your bikini bottoms. They were tied in the same fashion as your top had been, and he delighted in the slow unravelling of the bows at each hip.

"'Bout how I'm gonna make a mess of you," he said, drawing a line down your now-bared centre. Your chest moved up sharply and didn't come back down until he'd found your entrance, already leaking slick. He spread wet up your front, circling your clit until your breath caught.

"There you are," he said, laughing.

"It's not funny," you protested breathlessly.

He pushed down a tad roughly, listening intently for your quiet moans. "It feels funny."

"That's my line."

He rolled his eyes, edging your entrance with the tip of his fingers. "Tell me if this feels funny, sweetheart."

He pushed his index finger past little resistance, already coated in your arousal and working more out of your warmth. You shuddered underneath him, reaching out to grab his hand for some comfort. He took your wrist in his other hand and held it away from your cunt. He checked your face to see how you were taking and felt a smugness like no other at the evident pleasure smudging your features, lips parted delicately and eyes shuttering closed with each thrust inward. He increased the pace and added his second finger, scissoring them inside you to spread you open.

He didn't intend on making you cum yet, really, having wanted to get you properly ready by murmuring sweet nothings and worse, promising things he wasn't sure he could give but was determined to try. "How's that feel, baby?"

"Good," you said shyly.

"Good? Just good?"

"Feels really good," you confirmed, panting at his uptick in speed and renewed pressure on your little bundle of nerves.

"Gonna make you feel so good," he promised, "gonna get you all messy, get you ready for my cock. That okay?"

"Yep," you said tightly.

Your legs were twitching - not a full shake but enough to tell exactly how it was going to go. He took his fingers from your cunt and pulled back further to push your knees up, spreading you wide in front of him. He used his left hand to stimulate your swollen clit and his right to finger fuck you in quick bursts.

It was wonderful to watch, your face swimming in pleasure and your eyes getting all wet and glassy, too timid to meet his gaze.

"Hey, pretty girl," he said, forcing you to look at him, "hey, baby. You look so fucking cute, yeah? Don't you?"

Your eyebrows creased, distracted by his attentions on your sensitive cunt.

"Tell me how you look," he ordered.

"Sirius…"

"Go on, tell me how good you look. I'll reward you, I promise."

You shook your head.

"You won't?" he paused attending your clit and took big, slow strokes, curling his fingers to drag down your walls. Your thighs wobbled.

"Just tell me, baby," he said, voice faux pleading, "tell me all about how you look and I'll make you cum."

You whimpered at the unfairness of it all and he felt a little sorry for you, but not enough to let you out of the deal.

"I look… nice." You bought into his game.

He grinned proudly, pressing his thumb back against your clit as though he might begin again, but didn't.

"C'mon, you can do better than that."

"I look cute."

He nodded appraisingly and started slow circles. "And what else?"

You stuttered over your words, stubborn in your own diffidence but desperate. "I look pretty."

"Pretty," he hummed like he was chewing it over. "You're more than pretty. Gonna look so fucking beautiful all covered in my cum too, baby, I promise you."

He was trying to relax himself as much as he was you. Trying to convince himself that fucking his best friend that he loved, loved unthinkingly as the pumping of blood in his veins, the thrumming of his magic beneath his skin, was the right path. And what did people say? Sometimes the easiest path was the path of least resistance? He couldn't resist you, he knew that much. So, selfishly, he made you cum. Selfishly, he cooed as you moaned. Selfishly, he spread his hand across your trembling tummy. Maybe it was the wrong decision, but Sirius Black fancied himself a selfish man, and so he was going to fuck you silly, should you allow him.

You were recuperating, blinking bashfully, wetting your bitten lips. He leaned over you to push his hands behind your shoulders and lift you into a sitting position, stealing a quick kiss. When he broke it you looked dazed as ever.

"You okay?" he asked.

Your dazed expression cleared with his voice. You nodded, catching your breath with your hand pressed to your cunt. He laughed madly when you touched yourself and jumped, ticklish.

You glared at him.

"Don't be like that," he chastised, taking both of your hands into his, tugging your arms towards him.

You squeezed his fingers likely without thought and climbed up onto your knees, almost as tall as him, "I'm not being like anything," you said, climbing up into his lap, wet pussy sliding against his aching, clothed cock, knees either side of his thighs.

He pulled your arms around his neck to relieve his hands and push down his shorts, freeing his cock. He pumped, feeling your arms tighten as you spotted his length.

"Ah," you said weakly.

"You ready?" he asked, guiding his cock underneath you to tease your hole, gathering wetness to palm over his length.

You didn't answer, instead lowering yourself onto his cock slowly. He kissed your shoulder, tasted the salt of the sea on your skin as you stretched around him, gasps like a sweet song in his ears. Hands on your hips to alleviate the effort it took for you to hold yourself upright, he steered you up and down until you were confident enough to do it yourself. You were slow, and he wouldn't rush you, but fuck if he didn't want to lay you out flat and ruin you, pound into you until you were a wet-eyed mess. Still, you worked his cock, moaning as the stretch turned to indiscriminate pleasure.

He grabbed your neck, not rough enough to hurt but certainly not gently, straightening your head up to meet his gaze, though the sight of you watching his cock spread you open was tantalising, mouth a small o-shape.

"Taking me so well," he praised.

You tried not to show how his words affected you. He was determined to make you, fucking up into you as you came down, relishing in the startled delight clouding your face.

"How's my pretty girl feeling?" He followed your hips with his own, dragging his cock against your walls. "How's my pretty pussy, all full?"

You looked like you might burst into tears and dug your face into the side of his neck, tightening your arms. He took this in stride and kissed the top of your head before grabbing a hold of your hips and fucking fast into your heat, moaning at the feeling of your cunt contracting around his throbbing dick.

"Yeah, you know, don't you? This cunt," he said into your hair, "this cunt's all mine now."

You'd gone so quiet he worried for a split second he'd gone too far, until he felt your lips at his neck, mouthing. He didn't have to see you to know what you'd said soundlessly.

All yours.

His fault for goading you, he realised, groaning so raggedly he felt his chest burn. He fucked up into you until he thought even a muffliato wasn't enough enough cover the sounds you were making, unrestrained and half-sobbing in his lap.

He slowed, let you drop so you were seated with his cock inside you as deep as it could go, which was a different agony, and pulled your face from the crook of his neck.

"Awww," he sympathised, rolling his hips as he wiped the tears from your face. "You're okay."

You nodded, bringing a hand up to wipe your face yourself, hands half covered by the sleeve of his jacket.

"It's not too much, is it?" he asked, bringing his hand to the small of your back, pushing leather into your skin and leaning back to really focus on finding your sweet spot.

You pouted jokingly as if to say what do you think? and then laughed, the movement prompting little flecks of water to jump off of your lashes. It was a sight he thought he would remember for the rest of his life, your pleasure driven tears and your cock drunk laugh, tits half sheltered by his old leather jacket.

You took his leaning back as an opportunity, spreading your fingers against the trail of hair at the bottom of his stomach to encourage his back flat onto the mattress. He laid down curiously, head close enough to the edge of the bed that his hair draped over the end. You anchored yourself to his tummy and didn't ride him so much as you squirmed, the head of his cock rubbing against your sweet spot, goosebumps breaking out across your body. You whined, pleading sounds that had him probing your clit, searching for your second climax. You protested his actions, grabbing his wrist and holding it to his breastbone, leaning down so your cunt was flush with his crotch, pelvis' sliding into one another bruisingly as you grinded, faces inching closer and closer as the sensation weakened your resolve to be in charge. He felt his own resolve weakening in turn.

Escaping your clutches he pulled your chest flush to his with only the head of his dick inside you, to which you grumbled, rocking down. He frowned himself and wrapped one arm under your armpit and over your shoulder blades, the other across your back.

"Don't do me in," he blurted, steadying your movements.

You raised your eyebrows at his panic amusedly. "You gonna cum in me, lover?" you asked teasingly.

He kissed the skin left of your mouth, strokes haltingly slow. "Don't do me in," he restated, softer. "Please."

Your lips parted as he dug into your soft spot, mouthing your cheek before tucking you into his front, hugging you tenderly as he opened you up slowly with his cock. He sped up, testing what he could handle and savouring your keens.

The sound of your whimpering was his last straw, pulling out of you quickly, cock throbbing in his hand. You searched for his mouth and kissed him, once and then twice, chaste and slow and loving kisses that made him want to serve you up starlight on a silver platter.

Then you climbed off of him. He let you go reluctantly, watching as you settled in a W-shape near his pillows, breathing hard and neatening up his jacket so your tits were fully out.

"Do your worst," you told him.

He blinked, pushing up onto his elbows, cock twitching at the skin under his belly button.

"What?"

"'Gonna look beautiful covered in my cum,'" you quoted him, something bright in your eyes.

He crawled over to your quivering body, hand already milking his cock. He kneeled so he was hovering over you and you leaned back into his pillows, sweaty and rugged. He thought you looked the prettiest he'd ever seen you, hands tugging roughly at his cock, lubed by your slick.

"You're beautiful," you whispered gingerly, eyes skipping up his chest to alight on his mouth, his nose, his eyes. You smiled, eyes heavy.

He came down your front, pearlescence dripping down the swollen curve of your breasts and gathering at the slade of your chest, white rivulets that shone in the golden sundown. He'd barely finished when he was kissing you passionately, trying to convey his thoughts with his rough hand on your silken face, his undue mouth, trying to push the depths of his devotion into his soothing fingertips beneath your eye.

He broke the kiss begrudgingly, struck with an idea.

"Where's your camera?" he asked, forehead resting on yours.

"Huh?"

"Let me take a picture of you like this."

You didn't need much convincing, a beatific beam dancing across your kiss red lips. He scrubbed his hand down your cheek before he hastily pulled his shorts up and retrieved the camera from where you pointed, messing with buttons he didn't hope to understand until the camera was blinking and aimed at your smiling face. He zoomed out just enough to catch his jacket and your messy chest in the photograph.

"Pretty," he said, more to himself than you. Your chest heaved with his praise. "Say cheese, lovely girl."

You shot up a peace sign and he chuckled so suddenly he thought he'd never breathe right again.

thank you for reading!❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

read part two here

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more bucky brain rot

Pretty Baby

Bucky Barnes x Reader

18+ ONLY.

Summary: I had this slutty little thought about Bucky's leg over your shoulder while you suck his dick...so here's a quick drabble about it.

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing something short and sweet. I see other authors do it all the time and it's not something I'm 100% comfortable with yet. I still spent way too much time on this, edited it, and had to force myself to cut it short. But I hope with practice, I can get more drabbles like this out!

Warnings: subby Bucky, blowjob, mention of prostate massage, Bucky being insecure

I'm imaging your evening starts with Bucky being nervous about an event you both have to attend. And once there, some asshole agent makes a snide comment about Bucky and his arm in front of a lot of people. Despite how much he tries, Bucky can't let it go. He spends the rest of the evening spiraling, desperately wanting to escape the room. So when you finally get home, you notice immediately that he's not okay...

"Buck?" You called to him from the bathroom doorway, and the look on his face when he turned to you made you frown.  

The stress and anxiety manifested in the form of a red flush over his chest and neck. His eyes were far away. 

"What can I do, babe?" You quickly joined his side, touching his cheek gently. 

He sighed and nuzzled against your hand. "I'm okay," he mumbled. "Just need to clear my head." 

"Come on," you led him back to the bedroom, gently guiding him to the bed. "Let me help." 

Bucky started to protest, but you kissed his neck delicately while you began to work on the knots in his shoulders. He shut up quickly, letting you help. 

You knew how these massages usually ended–with Bucky between your legs for hours if you let him. But you were determined to flip the script–take care of him this time. He could be a pillow princess for once…maybe he would discover how good it felt to let go. 

You pushed Bucky's shoulder, laying him back on the mountain of pillows piled on the bed. 

"Let me–" Bucky started. 

You shushed him gently and kissed his lips. "No, let me." You kissed both his eyelids, tasting the lone tear Bucky had let slip. The taste of it broke your heart. You kissed his cheeks and his nose before finding his lips again. "Let me show you how beautiful you are, baby. So fucking perfect." 

Your lips moved to kiss the dimple in his chin and then made a path across his strong jaw and down his neck. 

Bucky swallowed hard; this was not how he had expected the rest of his evening to go. After spending hours being mortified, he had just wanted to come home and hide. Maybe crawl under the comforter with his headphones until he could forget everything. But you were having none of it. Your hands gently slid under his shirt, and he tensed. 

"Shhh, it's okay, baby. Do you want me to stop?" 

Bucky bit his lip; it didn't make sense. He had moved past being ashamed of his body with you. He hadn't been anxious to shed his clothes in front of you in months. It wasn't fair that one asshole could change that and put that pit of anxiety and fear back in his belly. 

"Don't stop," he finally whispered because no one was going to take you from him. 

You slowly pulled his shirt over his head, and your lips went to work, touching every inch of his bruised and scarred skin. With each kiss you gave, he felt a little more like himself. No one had been so gentle with him, not before you. By the time your lips finished trailing down his vibranium arm, the evening's events were far from his mind. And when you wrapped your lips around two of his metal fingers, all thoughts flew out of his head completely. 

"Doll," he groaned, "can I taste you?" 

You shook your head. "After I'm done taking care of you, lay back down." 

Bucky hadn't even realized he had sat up in an attempt to get closer to you. He listened and flopped down against the pillows as you unbuttoned his slacks. You took your time, but Bucky didn't mind. Every touch, every kiss, every swipe of your warm tongue was a blessing to him. You hadn't even taken his cock out yet, but he didn't care. He would gladly live suspended in this euphoria, basking in your attention forever. 

For once, he let his mind go blank, focusing only on the pleasure you were giving him, on the whispered praise you gave against his skin. He didn't notice you had completely undressed him until suddenly something wet and warm was wrapped around his cock. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned quietly. 

Your hands moved over his thighs and lifted his knees, so his feet were planted on the bed. But he didn't use the leverage to thrust. He let you remain in control, focusing on the way your movements were controlled and slow, but your lips remained tight, tongue never missing a swipe over his sensitive head. 

Your hands massaged the backs of his thick thighs, and Bucky was only vaguely aware of you slowly pushing his left leg up and over your shoulder. Before he realized what you had done, your shoulder pushed into the back of his thigh, lifting his leg higher as you took his cock deeper into your throat. 

"Oh fuck!" Bucky snapped out of his trance, his hand flying to the back of your head and his heel digging into your back. 

You moaned around him, and he hissed as pleasure shot through every nerve ending in his body. Even then, he realized his leg was over your shoulder and attempted to put it back on the bed. But you gently slapped his thigh, pulling your mouth off his cock. 

"I said, let me take care of you, pretty baby." 

You looked at him with heavy lust-filled eyes, and all Bucky could do was whimper as he nodded his agreement. 

You grinned big before quickly hoisting his other leg up over your shoulder. 

"Oh fuck me," Bucky whispered. 

"That's the plan," you kept eye contact with him while you ran your tongue up and down his cock before sliding it back into your throat. 

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut; he swore he was even deeper than before. "Oh–" his words were lost in a deep groan as your finger started stimulating his prostate. 

His head dropped back, his back arched, and his hands scrambled for purchase in the sheets. He knew he must be quite the picture, mouth dropped open in a silent scream, his legs starting to shake as his heels dug into your back. His cock throbbed, and he couldn't help but start thrusting in your mouth. All his anxieties were long gone; the only thing he could focus on was the consistent throbbing in the head of his cock, and the slick tightness of your throat every time he slid down it. 

When he came, white-hot pleasure coursing through him, you swallowed every drop. Your throat contracting around him prolonged his orgasm until he was teetering between pleasure in pain. He could have stayed in limbo forever—head empty–only you–but you slowly pulled your mouth off him and placed his legs back on the bed. 

You gently pushed his hair out of his face as you cuddled against his heaving chest. "See, you should let me take care of you more often." 

Bucky nodded, finally gathering himself enough to pull you closer to him. "Thank you–you didn't have to–"

"I wanted to, pretty baby. I love you."

Bucky pulled you up to his lips, searing his love for you on every inch of skin he could reach.

"la venida de cristo" (the cumming of christ)

paintings by fabián chairez (mexico, born 1987) also available as a postcard set

his exhibition in mexico city is currently being targeted by extremist religious groups and christian groups are trying to sue him (X) for his work so i thought i would show all of tumblr

All in My Head | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! This was a request from @breakablebarnes, who described this ic idea as "dark and meta", so obviously I'm here for it.

Send me your comments, requests, and / or suggestions! 🥰

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes@glxwingrxse @psychoticmason @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @lonewolf471 💘

"Your eyes are glowing and I'm holding your hand You ask if I'll run with you up to the edge Hands on my waist and fingers running through hair Well, I know that it's all in my head...

If the stars ain't showing, the whiskey ain't burning Well, I'm still gonna be your girl When we both stop growing and they dig us deep Yeah, I'm still gonna be your girl..."

The light of the sunset had your apartment glowing gold. Bucky's body leaned up against yours, letting you play with his hair while the two of you watched the classic Gene Kelly musical, Singin' in the Rain. As Gene Kelley swept Debbie Reynolds into his arms near the end of You Were Meant for Me, Bucky nuzzled in closer to you. "How have I not taken you dancing yet, sweets?" he asked as he turned to face you. An unexpected chuckle fell from your lips at his question, making him cock his head to the side with confusion.

"Buck, I don't have any idea where- people don't really go dancing anymore. If you go dancing these days, it's at like, a rave or a nightclub" you told him, "I'm sure that's not the kind of dancing you're looking for." A disappointed frown twisted his lips downward and he sighed out a huff. Then, without a word, he was up off of the couch.

He turned off the tv and pushed the coffee table out of the way with no effort at all, creating a makeshift dance floor right in the middle of your living room. He flew across the room to his record player and pulled out his favorite Frank Sinatra record, letting the sweet sound of your favorite Sinatra song, Be Careful, it's My Heart slowly fade in through the crackling and popping of the record.

"May I have this dance, gorgeous?" Bucky asked as he offered you his shiny vibranium hand. A warm sensation took over your cheeks as you accepted his proposal, letting him pull you up off the couch and into his arms. His hand found your waist and yours wrapped around his neck as the two of you began to move with the music. "I don't think anyone's ever asked me to dance before..." you murmured against his chest, making Bucky stop moving completely.

"Oh, doll. That's criminal," Bucky said, clearly disturbed by your confession, "if you were my girl back in the day...I would've taken you dancing every Friday night- would've bribed the band to play a slow one for us". He pulled you tighter against his body and hummed in approval at his favorite sensation: your body pressed against his. "I'm glad I found you now, though..." he continued, "there's no way I ever could've left for the war if you were my girl. Probably would've ended up a draft dodger". The thought of Bucky leaving for the war, being gone from you for so long and in such a dangerous situation, made you press yourself even closer to him. You let your eyes close as you rested your head against his warm chest, listening to his heartbeat and letting it remind you that he was right there with you.

"I would've waited for you, Buck," you murmured against his chest, "I would've written you letters and counted down the days until I got to see you again". Your promise hit Bucky strangely, reminding him that he never would've even gotten the chance to come home to you. He quickly swatted the thought from his mind, instead quietly singing along with the music:

"Remember it's my heart. The heart with which so willingly I part. It's yours to take to keep or break, But please, before you start, Be careful, it's my heart."

He crooned along with Sinatra until the song ended, being replaced with more crackling and popping sounds.

When the warmth of Bucky's body began to fade from your touch, you allowed your eyes to slowly flicker open.

Before you sat your living room-dark, empty, cold. The coffee table sat in its correct position- not shoved out of the way to make room for a dance floor- and there was no record player in the corner. The only light in the room came from the screen of the laptop that sat balanced on your thighs. Your hands remained frozen, poised over the keyboard and ready to type. The flickering of the cursor on your screen drew your attention as you read the last sentence of your fic over again:

"He crooned along with Sinatra until the song ended, being replaced with more crackling and popping sounds".

A sudden ache took root in your chest, filling you with a sense of loss, a sense of loneliness. It had felt so real- you could’ve sworn you were really there with Bucky, slow dancing in your living room. The emptiness you felt at his absence clawed at your heart and ripped it to shreds, leaving you hollow. Not only was this man not in your arms, he wasn’t even real. Something resembling grief took hold of you, as you yearned for the touch of a person you’d never meet. You mourned his smile, his gentle touch, his oceanic eyes, the way he held you close-

Only one thing could take the awful sensation away, and so you let your eyes close once again, diving back into the world in which you were Bucky's girl- the world that was all in your head.

THE LAST OF US + the collective emotional trauma it causes <3

End of the Line PART 2 - Sebastian Sallow x Female! Reader

Summary: Sebastian had a stubborn streak a mile wide, and he rarely gave up before accomplishing whatever it was he set his mind to. His goal of impregnating you was one he was hell-bent on succeeding at, and who were you to deny him?

Alternatively summarized as Sebastian fucking a baby into you and a brief glimpse at the months that follow.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, breeding kink, pregnancy, mild body dysphoria, explicit sexual content

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 ! Part 1 is linked here for the Tumblr squad :))

You were so overstimulated that it was starting to hurt. 

Completely boneless on the bed, Sebastian’s strong arms kept you pinned to his chest as he languidly rolled his hips into your soaked heat. The slick between your legs wasn’t solely your doing, though; your lover hadn’t pulled out of your tight folds once since taking you to bed earlier, and he had made good on his promise to make you come more times than you cared to admit. 

In truth, you’d simply lost count. 

It didn’t matter. What did matter was how Sebastian held you flush to him– the two of you were laying sideways against the sheets, his broad hands slowly roving down the bare expanse of your chest to squeeze your breasts as he pumped his last load deeper inside of you. The filthy, wet noises were enough to make your head spin, and from behind you, Sebastian’s own lustful groan betrayed just how much he loved the sound. 

“You’re taking it so well, darling,” he whispered directly against your ear, punctuating the statement with another unhurried roll of his hips. You arched into him impossibly further, your head falling back against his shoulder, and the stubble that adorned his jaw rubbed deliciously against your hyper-sensitive skin. “Fuck– you can’t even begin to imagine how perfect you feel. Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” 

Your reply came out sounding more like a guttural moan– the combined feeling of his cock sliding into you lazily and his hands pinching your nipples enough to render your tongue useless. Sebastian didn’t mind, though. He fucking relished in having worked you into such a brainless state, full of his cum and covered in a slew of dark, branding hickeys. You looked and sounded wrecked, and the urge to do more– fill you more– was insatiable. 

One of Sebastian’s broad hands skirted higher up your chest to grip your throat, holding you against his shoulder so he could better sink his teeth into the skin below your ear. The pain quickly gave way to pleasure, and you moaned unabashedly at the feeling and trembled in his arms. 

“What do you think?” He asked you with a throaty growl, trailing his free hand down lower until the pads of his fingers were planted firmly over your swollen clit. An airy gasp ripped from your lips when he began rubbing tight, controlled circles over the inflamed nub, and despite your limp nature in his hold, you instinctively attempted to writhe away from the stimulation. It was pointless. “Think you can take another load? I can feel you sucking my cock in deeper– you can do it, can’t you?”

“Sebastian,” you whimpered meekly, and the fucked-out tone in your voice had his still-hard shaft twitching tellingly inside your walls. “I-It’s too much…”

“Shh, come on, darling. Do it for me? Let me fuck my seed into you, just once more– you’re so perfect, so good to me. Please?” 

It was hard to deny him when he was purring his request against the marred skin of your shoulder. Besides, the whole reason you were letting him have his way with you like this was due in large part to his desire to impregnate you. You’d been trying for weeks, but between his hectic work schedule and your sporadic ventures out into the Highlands, the opportunities had been few and far between. He was finally home for an extended period of time now, however, and he’d wasted next to no time at all in stealing you away to the bedroom as soon as he’d walked in the door tonight. 

You swallowed around the lump in your throat when his tongue laved over the light imprint of his teeth in the crook of your shoulder. The wet muscle trailed higher, up the side of your throat until he reached the curve of your jaw. He nibbled lightly at the salty skin there, urging you to answer him with another tantalizing plunge of his cock. 

Words were once again a thing of the past, so you willed your body to cooperate long enough to nod quickly. You felt Sebastian’s lips curl into a smile against the side of your throat, and before you could register what was happening, he had rolled you over so you were effectively laying on top of him with your back pressed into his muscular chest. The hand on your throat tightened a fraction as he dug his heels into the bed, lending an ample amount of force to his next few thrusts, and the warm, sticky fluids between your legs became all the more apparent from this angle. 

“M-Merlin–” you groused, wiggling your hips down with what little movement you were allowed in your vulnerable position. The mixture of your juices and Sebastian’s seed made the slide all too easy, and he groaned loudly as he ground his balls against the swell of your rear. 

His tongue flicked out to trace the shell of your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth to nibble gently, and your hands flew up to grip his thick forearm splayed across your chest. “How does it feel, darling? Is it good?” 

You’d never felt so full in your fucking life. “It’s–” he cut you off with a rushed snap of his hips, and your lips parted around a sharp gasp. “Fuck, it’s so good– you feel amazing, Sebastian– ah!”

Raising his hips off the bed fully, he withdrew slightly before ramming his cock back into your overwhelmingly wet cunt, simultaneously returning to rubbing demanding little circles over your clit without pause. It was mind-numbing– the pleasure unrelenting– and despite all of your writhing and twitching, Sebastian held you in place and expertly stoked the flames of yet another orgasm. You could feel it building hot in your gut– the tension there wrought tighter than a wire– and you arched frantically into his touch as he abandoned your ear to begin working another bruise into the column of your neck. 

Sebastian’s pace became brutal, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the humid room, his grunts of effort echoing off the walls and making your mind go blank. The fact that he had kept this up for so long was a miracle in and of itself– not to discredit his stamina or anything– but his cock had remained stiff and unyielding inside of you for the entire night, and at this point you were beginning to wonder if he was even human.

“Please,” you grit out through clenched teeth, your nails digging into the skin of his arm as he pounded into you with astonishing force. You were right there at the edge– utterly desperate to come again– because between the feeling of his lips on your throat, his hand curled around your neck, and his fingers assaulting your oversensitive clit– your body was quickly approaching its limit. 

An animalistic sound reverberated from deep within his chest, and in a flash Sebastian had flipped you back over, your cheek pressing against the sweaty sheets as your hips were manhandled upwards. One hand stayed planted on your waist, gripping you with bruising strength while the other flew into your hair and yanked your head back, forcing you to push yourself up on your elbows to follow his tugging. 

His thrusting ceased as he hunched over your bent spine, grinding his cock deep in your clenching walls with deliberate precision that made your legs shake under you. “Beg for it,” he demanded, and your mouth fell open as you moaned sinfully. 

“P-Please, Sebastian, please breed me,” you rasped out. “I want your cum inside of me, don’t stop– please don’t stop–” 

He obliged you all too eagerly. 

Releasing your hair, Sebastian’s hands returned to your hips to pull you back into his abrupt, rough pace. The intensity of everything had your eyes rolling back in your head, your arms shaking from the effort if took to keep yourself upright, and when you collapsed against the covers to gather the sheets in your clenched fists, Sebastian grabbed one of your wrists to pin it against the small of your back. 

“That’s it, darling, take it all– you’re gonna look so pretty full of my kids– fuck.” He threw his head back as his own finish crept in the far reaches of his mind, the undeniable urge to fill you to the brim taking over. “Come on my cock– let me feel your cunt swallowing my load. Come for me, love.” 

Rutting back onto his sharp thrusts, you felt the telltale heat in the pit of your stomach grow stronger. The way Sebastian was holding you down, possessively gripping you with that strength that made your throat dry up, left you panting helplessly beneath him as your climax crashed over you violently for the nth time tonight. You buried your cries of his name in the mattress as wave after wave of pure bliss coursed over you, and the way your clenching heat seemingly sucked his cock in further was about as much as Sebastian could take. 

He let go of the hand he had pinned to your back so he could drape himself fully across you, bucking deep into your sensational heat– and your muffled, high pitched noises were what finally sent him spiraling over the edge after you. Sebastian came with a shaky moan, thick ropes of his cum painting your insides and squelching out the sides of your folds as he withdrew his cock halfway before shoving every last inch back in. Your voice was gravelly as his name fell from your lips over and over again like a desperate prayer, and when his hips finally slowed to a stuttering halt, you felt him mouth soothingly at your shoulder as the two of you came down in tandem. 

Sebastian sounded breathless when he picked his head up to whisper directly against your ear, “So fucking perfect.” One of his hands slipped under your abdomen to feel how wet you were in the spot where the two of you were connected, and when he pulled the appendage away, his fingers were covered in the thick, sticky strands of his cum and your own slick. You whined softly when his other hand carded through your hair again, gently tugging your head to the side so he could get a good look at your face. “Open,” he commanded, and your lips had barely parted before he stuck the wet digits in your mouth, silently imploring you to taste your shared blend of fluids. 

“Mmph,” you moaned weakly, working your tongue over his thick fingers and swallowing the salty taste that graced your tastebuds. He pulled them out and made a show of licking away the strands you’d missed, and the filthy sight had your walls clamping down on his cock again. 

Sebastian swore softly under his breath at the feeling and tenderly looped his arms around your waist, tugging you flush against him once more as he situated the two of you on your sides. He made no move to pull out, keeping himself sheathed in your pulsing cunt in some primal attempt to get his seed to take root. The minute rocking of his hips continued for far too long to keep track of, and in that time he continued whispering praises against your ear with his chin nestled in the crook of your neck. 

You felt his hands wander down the plane of your torso before his fingers splayed against your lower belly, seemingly willing a baby into existence with how soft his ministrations were. Completely spent, your eyelids eventually drifted shut as you started to doze off, all too content to pass out with Sebastian’s cock still stuffed deep in your core.

When sleep finally overtook you, Sebastian continued to press the lingering tension from your body, rocking his hips into you every so often when he felt more cum beading at the head of his cock. The last thought that crossed his mind before falling asleep wrapped around you was one of victory; something in him knew he had succeeded in fucking his potent seed straight into your womb. 

Only time would be able to tell, though. 

—

Your dress didn’t fit you anymore. 

Growing out of your clothes was something you had psyched yourself up for when you’d learned you were pregnant three months ago. Obviously it was illogical to assume you would be able to stuff your swelling belly into your form-fitting attire for long, but to finally have that day arrive was like a slap to the face. 

You couldn’t help but frown at your reflection, turning to the side to gauge just how fat you’d actually gotten in only thirteen weeks. 

The revelation couldn’t have come at a worse time. This week had to have been the hardest for you thus far; between your mood swings, morning sickness, and the rampant fatigue that had clouded your mind day after day, you felt like you were going insane. Hell, you had bitten Sebastian’s head off just two nights ago for standing too close to you in the kitchen. It didn’t get much crazier than that. 

Yet here you were, irrationally upset that your favorite dress no longer fit around the slight growth in your lower stomach. There was a whole person inside of you, but despite your constant reminders to yourself of that fact, you couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. 

Sebastian was due home any minute now to take you with him to one of his work functions, but now you simply stared at your scowling expression in the mirror, silently willing the floor to open up and swallow you whole. You didn’t want to go. You didn’t want to do anything other than mope around the house in whatever clothing you could find that was comfortable. 

Frustrated with the stupid dress and your ridiculous mentality, you hurriedly stripped the fabric off of your body and stomped over to your closet. If you made a mess in your attempts to find something that fit, you didn’t pay it any mind– instead continuing to toss shirts and trousers over your shoulder until you found one of Sebastian’s old Quidditch jerseys from Hogwarts. Considering it was meant to be worn over protective padding, it did a great job of hiding your body, coming to rest halfway down your thighs while the neckline dropped off your arm. You barely spared yourself a second glance before you were climbing into bed and hauling the covers over your head. 

Equal parts annoyed and sad, you wallowed in your own self-pity for close to a half hour before you heard the front door open and slam shut. Sebastian’s voice echoed down the hallway, his calls for you going unanswered. You felt too petulant to bring yourself to reply, opting to burrow deeper into the sheets until you heard the door to the bedroom creek open, and then his footsteps were steadily approaching the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, and he gingerly placed his hand on your covered head to peel the blankets away and breach your hiding place. 

“There you are,” he murmured affectionately, the slight smile on his face vanishing when you turned over and he was able to catch sight of your tight expression. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” 

Pursing your lips did little to help with the influx of tears that suddenly welled in your eyes, and Sebastian immediately scooted closer to you so he could cup your cheeks in his hands. You mumbled something about it being ‘stupid’ and for him to ‘forget about it’, but he was hearing absolutely none of it and forced your eyes to stay trained on his. 

“Talk to me, darling. Is it the baby? Did something happen?” 

As sweet as it was that he was so concerned about the baby, the reminder that you were pregnant and only going to get bigger from here on out caused the tears to slip down your cheeks despite your best attempts to fight them. 

This was unbelievable. Your hormones could kiss your ass. 

“Bloody hell, you’re scaring me here, sweetheart.” Sebastian’s brows slammed down atop his eyes, his fear for you and your unborn child palpable. “What’s going on? Why are there clothes all over the floor?” 

Forcing a breath into your lungs, you willed yourself to calm down and blinked the watery haze from your eyes. “My dress doesn’t fit.” 

Sebastian’s mouth fell open for all of a second before it snapped shut with an audible crack of his teeth. “Your– what?” 

His response only served to make you feel more ridiculous. You turned your face out of his gentle embrace and yanked the covers back over your head, curling in on yourself and immaturely ignoring the string of curses you heard him mutter. “I told you it was stupid,” you whined from beneath the sheets. 

He tried to tug the blankets back down, but your grip was iron-tight, so he relented and sighed. “It’s not stupid– I’m just trying to wrap my head around it, is all. You’re crying because your dress doesn’t fit?” His words were gentle– cautious, almost– as though he were talking to a wounded animal. You couldn’t find it in yourself to be bothered by it. 

“I’m crying because none of my clothes fit.” Your voice was muffled by your makeshift cocoon, and you felt Sebastian shift closer to you from his position at the edge of the bed. “I’m irrationally upset that I’m gaining weight even though it makes perfect sense. I’m sorry– I don’t know what’s wrong with me anymore– I’m just moody and I feel like I’m going insane.” 

“That’s what this is about?” He clarified with a shocked tone. “Darling, you can’t be serious. You’re pregnant.” 

Like you hadn’t already been telling yourself that all day. 

This time when Sebastian went to uncover your head, you let him, and he threw the blankets all the way down to the foot of the bed, his attention momentarily shifting to the oversized jersey you wore. Merlin– it had to be the pregnancy hormones talking, because only a dead person could miss how utterly delectable you looked. Sebastian shook his head, completely bewildered that you could even begin to think you looked anything other than ravishing, and you nervously started chewing the inside of your cheek. 

“I can promise you this; you’re as attractive now as you were three months ago. A little weight gain can’t change that, and watching our child grow inside of you is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever been privy to seeing. There’s absolutely nothing for you to be self-conscious about. Tell me you understand, because it’s going to kill me if you end up feeling this way for the next six months.” 

You drew a shaky breath into your lungs, huffing it out and practically deflating further into the bed. Part of you knew that telling Sebastian would garner reassurances such as this, but quite frankly, they did little to quell the nagging voice in the back of your mind that had hounded you for nearly a week now. Still, you nodded meekly with your cheek pressed into the pillows, and Sebastian’s eyes narrowed in a calculating manor. He could see through your facade as though it were made of glass. 

With his eyes still glued to you, the brunet swung his long legs over the side of the bed so he could better grip your ankles as he pulled you out of the protective ball you’d been curled in. Your surprised yelp echoed off the bedroom walls, and you pushed yourself up on your elbows to stare wide-eyed at Sebastian as he curled his hands under your knees and spread your own legs apart. 

“What are you doing?” Your voice was fleeting– barely there as Sebastian gingerly began running his hands up your bare legs to feel for your underwear beneath the jersey. 

“Actions speak louder than words, darling. I’ll show you how gorgeous you still are. You have no idea, do you?” His fingers slipped beneath the thin cotton separating your heat from him, and he oh-so-sensually tugged the material off of your bent legs and tossed it haphazardly over his shoulder without breaking eye contact. “The baby makes you glow. You’re the epitome of beauty every fucking time I look at you. You’re the mother of my unborn child, and that fact alone makes me want to bury myself deep in your perfect cunt all over again and lose myself in the feeling. I’ll never stop being enthralled by you.”

Sebastian shrugged off his coat and threw it to the side as well, loosening his tie around his neck before he was sprawling stomach down across the mattress. He sidled his way between your knees, hurriedly throwing your legs over his shoulders so he could affectionately trail his hands up your thighs towards your stomach. Maybe it was the hormones– or maybe his words were really starting to sink in– but the ache between your legs suddenly became all too apparent, and even the ghost of his breath over your folds was enough to leave you winded. 

You swallowed thickly, the feeling of his warm, broad hands caressing the slight swell of your belly enough to chase your insecurities from your mind and replace them with unrepentant thoughts. “What about your work event?” 

“Fuck the work event,” he replied quickly. “It’s just a stupid dinner party. I’d much rather stay right here and make you feel better– especially after coming home to you wearing my clothes.”

“S-Sorry,” you stuttered out the pointless apology, shivering when you felt his thick stubble brush against your inner thigh to plant a wet kiss against the skin. “It was the only thing big enough that fit.” 

His lust-dark eyes connected with yours from between your legs, and the predatory expression on his face had a sharp pang of arousal shooting through you like a bolt of lightning. “Never apologize for wearing my clothes. It’s one of the sexiest things you could possibly do. You’re mine, pregnant with my child, wearing my clothes. Do you understand?” 

The featherlight kiss he bestowed to your slick lips had your inhibitions flying out the damn window, and you sounded breathless as you choked out an airy, “Yes.”

Sebastian chuckled darkly, his unwavering gaze boring into your very soul as he licked a flat, broad stripe up your center, and the feeling instantly had you gasping into the empty air. His wicked lips sealed over your clit, sucking the nub into his mouth fervently, and your arms shook before giving out completely as you fell back against the mattress. 

He watched you crumble beneath him with rapt interest, taking in the darkening flush against your skin and the rapid rise and fall of your chest. The feeling of your legs tightening around his head as he lapped up your slick with his tongue was tantamount to perfection– and the wanton moan that ripped from your throat at the sensation had his cock twitching enthusiastically in his trousers. 

You were ready to attribute your sensitivity to being pregnant, because save for your first time, you had never found yourself so undone from merely having Sebastian’s mouth on you. His tongue felt like the most exquisite velvet, and the pressure he bestowed upon your tiny bundle of nerves lit a fire in your blood that you couldn’t even begin to tame. When he brazenly parted his lips to probe his tongue against your entrance, your hands flew up from the sheets to fist desperately in his curly brown hair, tugging him harder against you as your hips bucked against his chin.

“Fuck, Sebastian–” you keened breathlessly. He made a throaty sound in response, trailing his hands down the slight swell of your stomach to carefully grip your thighs with a tenacity that had you moaning loud. Your nails scraped against his scalp as you tightened your hold on him, and he groaned shamelessly as your heels pressed into his back to force more of himself inside of you. 

Sebastian obliged you willingly, shaking his head softly from side to side to create friction with his nose on your clit while his tongue delved deeper into your wet heat. He curled the muscle from within, licking broad stripes along your pulsing walls, and your head lolled brainlessly against the pillows as the pressure in your gut amplified to new heights. 

With one final plunge of his skilled tongue, Sebastian pulled it out to cleverly flick the tip against your clit. One of his hands slipped under your leg, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, and your raspy moan was cut short when you felt the tip of his finger slip between your soaked folds to press slowly inside. 

“Gods, you taste so fucking sweet,” Sebastian groaned, planting another kiss in the hollow of your leg as he worked the digit inside of you. “I could live off of just this for the rest of my life, I swear.” 

A string of meaningless sounds fell from your lips as Sebastian curled his finger inside of you, coercing more of your slick from your aching heat so he could lap it up ardently. His efforts left your mind reeling– the overwhelming pleasure stealing your breath from your lungs– and the wet, telling sound of him kissing and sucking at your folds had your face warming up intensely. You let him work you open on his finger, raking your hands through his disheveled hair as you writhed atop the sheets in your blatant attempts to feel as much of him as possible, and all the while Sebastian never lessened his attention against your core. 

He took your clit between his lips again and sucked– and seemingly out of nowhere your climax snuck up on you to hit you with the force of a damn train– leaving you gasping Sebastian’s name loudly and abruptly. 

Your legs tightened on either side of the brunet’s head, pulling him against you harder while your hips simultaneously jerked off of the bed, and your moans of delight sent Sebastian into a tizzy as he held you through your finish. He relished in each tiny twitch that emanated from your tense form, continuing to finger-fuck you through your orgasm until he felt your body relax completely underneath him, and even then he was slow to pull away. 

Through bleary eyes, you watched as Sebastian pushed himself up on his strong arms to cautiously crawl over your trembling body, and as soon as he was close enough, he was dropping his head to passionately capture your lips in a hungry, demanding kiss. “You’re stunning,” he sighed against your mouth. “So beautiful, I’m telling you– you’re fucking ethereal from head to toe. I’ve never been more enamored with you, darling.”

Gone were your insecurities about your body, wholly replaced by the near insatiable desire to have more of Sebastian; more of his praises, more of his touch, more of the mind-boggling sexual prowess that he exuded like a second skin. 

“Gods, I love you, Sebastian. Please– please keep going. I want you,” you implored him softly, noting the way his lashes fluttered against his cheeks at the sound of your pleading. He wordlessly sat back on his hunches to begin shedding his clothing, starting with his loose tie before making his way to his shirt. The buttons fell away one after another, blessing you with the marvelous sight of his tanned, freckled chest, and the urge to run your fingers through the sparse collection of hair above his navel was as potent as your need to breathe. 

Ordinarily you knew Sebastian would take his time undressing, never missing an opportunity to tease you with what he knew you wanted most, but this time was different. He seemed to worship you with his lust-dark eyes as he quickly removed the fabric that hid his body from your gaze, and by the time his trousers and briefs had been peeled away, you were aching with unrepentant need. 

Sebastian wasted no time at all returning to his place between your legs, tenderly lifting your knees so he could wedge his own on either side of you. The delectable feeling of his manhood brushing against your wet heat was a magic of its own, and when the head of his cock finally pressed into you, he was carefully hunching over you to kiss you breathless once again. Your moans of pleasure were swallowed up greedily as your lover began rocking his hips into you slowly, the tingling remnants of your previous climax making the stretch a non-issue, and you cannily hooked your ankles around the small of Sebastian’s back to silently nudge him onward. 

“Fuck–” he grit out through his clenched teeth, breaking away from your kiss-swollen lips to rest his forehead against yours as he worked to set a steady pace. The gentleness of his movements didn’t escape you, and it was clear to you that he was attempting to remain conscious of the little one nestled within your womb. Still sensitive from before, however, it made little difference to you; it never mattered how Sebastian chose to make love to you, so long as it was him and only him.

In the midst of his rocking, one of Sebastian’s broad hands slipped under the jersey you wore to fondly feel along your distended belly. The tips of his fingers ghosting up your side brought a wave of goosebumps to the surface of your skin, causing you to shiver under him, and your own hands came to appreciatively loop around the back of his neck as you gazed longingly up at him. 

Your love for the man stole your breath, more often than not. That much would never change, you were sure of it. 

Sebastian fixed his awed stare on you through his dark lashes, licking his lips before he muttered, “You feel amazing, darling. So good for me– always so fucking good for me.” 

In a flash you had tugged him back down to your lips to kiss him adoringly, breathing quiet moans as you arched your hips up to take more of Sebastian’s thick cock– already trembling from the way he filled you so deep– so good. He edged his knees further up the bed, mindful of your stomach as he delicately bent you further in half, and the steady squeaking of the bed frame couldn’t drown out the arbitrary groan that spilled from your chest at the perfect change in the angle. 

“Th-There, right there Sebastian– fuck–” your voice came out like a whimper, raking your nails up the nape of his neck to tangle your fingers in his dark hair as you twitched against him. 

Sebastian hummed his agreement, nudging your jaw with his nose and mouthing along the slender column of your throat, tasting salty sweat as he began murmuring your name like a treasured mantra against your skin. His brain was clouded with the sheer euphoria that stemmed from your pulsing walls around his cock. It was all too easy to get lost in the feeling; how warm you felt, how incredible your nails felt in his hair scratching down his back, until he was nipping at your ear and gasping rough moans against you alongside whispered praises. 

The heat pooling between your legs stole your focus, and all you could bring yourself to do in the next moment was let your eyes slide shut as your hands fell away from Sebastian’s neck to land on the pillows over your head. His free hand not still caressing your stomach flew to grip your wrists, pinning you firmly in place as he languidly ground his balls against the swell of your rear, and you groaned unabashedly at the feeling. 

“Want to come, sweetheart?” Sebastian asked you, his voice gruff and hot as it ghosted across your cheeks. You nodded senselessly, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth when the freckled man above you tightened his hold on your wrists and gradually started to speed up. “I’m gonna come inside– see if I can’t put another kid in you while I’m at it– you love it, I know you do.”

You nodded witlessly, overcome with the impending bliss that you felt coiling deep in your gut. “Merlin– I love it, I love it so much. I love you, Sebastian– f-fuck–”

He moaned and squeezed his eyes shut as you clenched around him, holding off his own finish until you were right there with him, and it mercifully didn’t take long before you were kicking your head back against the pillows with a broken cry, the sound guttural and so fucking sexy. In turn, Sebastian was whimpering your name over and over against your ear, his hips spasming and twitching as he bucked a few more times into your sopping wet cunt before spilling messily inside. 

You could feel Sebastian shaking over you from the intensity of everything, and as much as you yearned for him to collapse on top of you, he evidently wouldn’t allow himself to smother you with his body weight. There was precious cargo inside of you, after all. 

He sat back on his hunches as he pumped his load deeper inside of you, trailing his hands down to the hem of the jersey to slide it up your quivering form for a better view of his cock stuffed in you to the hilt. Keening breathlessly, you gingerly placed your hands over his as you sighed contentedly, and Sebastian couldn’t help the sultry smile that split his face then. 

“Absolutely incredible, sweetheart,” he proclaimed in a low voice. “Only you could make pregnancy look so good. Don’t ever doubt that you’re perfect as you are– I’ll remind you as many times as it takes.” 

The power behind his words made your heart swell with affection, and coupled with the electrifying feeling of his cock steadily pressing into you, the fire in your veins easily roared to life once again. “Maybe one more reminder wouldn’t hurt,” you drawled lazily up at him, the insinuation hidden in your tone enough to warrant the biggest fucking grin from Sebastian. 

“Anything for you, darling.” 

—

When your daughter was born, it was decidedly the best day of Sebastian’s life. He had laughed and cried, hooted and hollered, and effectively taken on the role of town-chanter to inform everyone within earshot that he was officially a father. The whole display was incredibly endearing, but not as endearing as watching him brazenly take on his new fatherly duties with the utmost pride and care in the world. 

While most men would shy away from getting their hands ‘dirty’, Sebastian had a newfound tendency to try doing everything for the child. You had to remind him time and time again that as sweet as it was that he wanted you to relax and let him take care of things, there were some things he couldn’t do for the baby. 

Namely, feeding her. 

You could hear Anne wailing her tiny head off in the next room over, followed by Sebastian’s soothing voice shushing her as he tried to calm her down, to no avail. The sound of her cries made your hair stand on end– your own motherly urges taking root and demanding you go check on things to ensure she was alright. But you trusted Sebastian to bring her to you when he inevitably realized her demands couldn’t be met by him. 

Ominis shifted nervously in his seat on the couch, his heightened hearing evidently making the whole situation a bit more precarious. “Are you planning on checking on that?” 

You made a dismissive sound, opting to instead grab the teapot off the tiny table in the living room to refill his cup. “It’s fine, he’ll bring her to me soon enough. He’s stubborn about handling these things.”

“I can imagine,” the blond mused with a tentative half-smile. When he heard the sloshing of the tea cease, followed by the clink of the pot being set down, he leaned forward to take the cup and platter in hand, graciously murmuring a quiet, “Thank you.” 

On cue, Sebastian emerged from the bedroom with Anne swaddled snug in his arms. His soft cooing continued as he carefully made his way to the living room, settling into the spot beside you before wordlessly offering the baby to you. She had stopped crying, much to your surprise, but her bright eyes were fixed expectantly on yours as though she knew she was finally in the right place. 

“I think she’s hungry,” he mumbled under his breath, raking his fingers through his mussed hair as he sat back against the sofa. 

“An astute observation,” Ominis joked over the rim of his cup. 

Sebastian scowled at his friend and pinched the bridge of his nose, the accumulated late nights seemingly bearing down on him all at once. “Alright genius, you have a kid and try figuring out their tells after barely ninety days.” 

Ominis chuckled to himself and shook his head, lifting his cup to his lips to take a slow, purposeful sip. “I think not. I doubt I would take to it the same way you have– fatherhood suits you, all things considered.” 

You couldn’t help but agree with him. Sebastian had gone above and beyond thus far; he had read every book, learned every spell, and visited every apothecary in the region to ensure things would run smoothly for you before Anne had even been born. Now that she was here, you were seeing a completely different side of him that you’d never been privy to. It had you falling in love with him all over again– and in the peaceful hours you were granted late at night while the baby slept– you made an effort to show him your appreciation every way you could. 

“Well, that’s just fine. You’ll have to settle for being named Godfather of all our kids then. You’re not getting out of it that easy, Ominis.”

The sound of your laughter filled the room, causing Anne’s eyes to widen up at you before she was giving you a gummy smile. Your heart skipped a beat; she hadn’t been around for longer than three months and she already had you wrapped around her minuscule finger.

“All of your kids?” Ominis asked incredulously. “You’ve only just had the first– how many little Sallows should I expect to be babysitting in the years to come?” 

Sebastian’s tired eyes seemed to roar to life when he turned to stare at you, the reverent expression on his face one that made your stomach flip on itself and had your toes curling. You knew that look– and you were suddenly all too grateful for Ominis’ inability to see the suggestive glimmer in the brunet’s eyes. “With any luck, plenty more. I suppose we’ll see what happens. For now though, we have our hands full with this little pumpkin.” 

Ominis groaned, his brows slamming down atop his milky-blue eyes, and you snickered at the incredulous look that spread across his face. “I don’t even know what the color gray looks like, but if there’s any truth to that statement then something tells me I’ll be covered in hairs that shade before I’m fifty.” 

Truer words had never been spoken. 

Camellia: Popia x f!reader - Chapter 1

Camellia: n. - A flower which symbolizes a deep desire or longing.

Summary: You are a translator for the Ministry. You receive a letter summoning you to the Abbey for a project involving an ancient diary with a mysterious author, but you find yourself wishing you were back home. That is, until you meet the charming Papa Emeritus the Fourth.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: Hi all!! This is the first long-form fic I've ever written and decided to publish, so I hope you all enjoy!! The first chapter is mostly setup and scene building, so not a lot of interaction with our beloved Copia. But there will be more, I promise!!

Warnings: none for now but there will be some in later chapters.

AO3 Link

Prologue

“Will you help me move this box?” the Brother of Sin says. 

Wordlessly, the Sister of Sin stops what she’s doing and maneuvers through the crowded, dusty basement room to help the Brother. The two crouch down, bracing their hands against the box of books. It leaves behind a path carved into the layers of dust as it slides across the wooden floor. 

Once the box is pushed a few feet out of the way, the Sister lets go and, losing her balance, falls to her hands and knees from the crouching position. She cries out in surprise when her hand sinks through the floorboards as one of the slats gives way. The hole is only a few inches deep and filled with dirt and cobwebs, but the Sister’s hand falls onto something softer than wood. 

She lifts her hand to find that there’s a small leather-bound volume hidden face-down in the small crevice. The Sister can hardly imagine how long it has been there, with how thick the grime lies on the back cover. 

This room of the Abbey’s basement had been long forgotten, until Sister Imperator tasked these Siblings of Sin to clear out the room to make way for new storage. They had half expected to find a ruby-encrusted sarcophagus in the room, with how ancient and opulent the Abbey is. So far the only things of interest they have found are books—it seems that the only items stored in the room are books. 

The Sister gently removes the book from the hole in the floor and replaces the wooden slat. Even through her gloves she can tell that it is close to disintegrating. The distinct orange of rotten leather lines the edges of its binding and a few corners of pages fall to the ground. 

“What’s that?” The Brother asks. 

The Sister carefully turns the volume over so that she can read the front cover. It, too, is covered in dust, so she gently brushes it with her hand in order to read the embossed leather cover. Having been face-down in the crevice, the gold leaf illuminating the embossment is preserved and it shines in the low light of the basement. 

“It says…” the Sister squints to read the small letters, “...Elizabeth.” 

“Elizabeth? Who’s Elizabeth?” 

The Sister turns over the book once more. “I don’t know, just… Elizabeth.”

Chapter 1

The ride from the airport to the Abbey is a long one. The car you had been picked up in took you through the city and the suburbs, to the rural outskirts of civilization where the coniferous trees block much of the sunlight. The winding roads, dotted in late-afternoon sunbeams, feel endless as the car climbs into the hills. It’s been a silent ride, and rather awkward (at least, you feel that it’s been awkward) because the helmeted ghoul who drives the sleek black sedan has not said a word. 

You knew that the Abbey has ghouls. A few abbeys do, as they are big enough to warrant summoning help, but your home chapter is not. This is the first time you’ve met one. 

You wonder if they’re all so stoic, or if the driver simply doesn’t have anything to say. He isn’t impolite, but you wish he would say something, anything to make the drive a little more bearable. You want to ask him about the Abbey–what the Siblings are like, what Papa is like. How many Siblings live there full time? How big is the library? You’ve heard that the ghost of a former Papa haunts the corridors, is that true? Hundreds of questions brew in your mind, but the ghoul remains silent and you’re left feeling like an unwelcome guest in a strange country.

You already miss home. 

The Marseille abbey, your home for the better part of your adult life, is a medieval stone structure built on a hilltop south of the Marseille city proper. The ornate, stained-glass windows of its chapel face west over the Mediterranean so that the sunset streams into the room during Black Mass. The walls are old and drafty, and keep faded tapestries in a constant state of fluttering. The linens line the walls of the refectory in between tall, narrow windows which also overlook the sea. If it were not for the inverted crosses and scenes of the unjust fall of Lucifer, one might think the atmosphere in the chapel—and the rest of the small abbey—is almost holy.

The windows in the Sibling dormitories are small and south-facing, with deep stone sills and wood frames that have somehow managed to survive the ages (although they hardly open without a fight.) Your own dormitory windowsill is lined with personal prayer books. Each has about a hundred loose papers sticking out. They are your translation practice, your way of staying versed in every language you know, because you know the prayers by heart at this point. The papers are experiments: which language makes the prayer sound better, sound prettier? Which language makes the most sense? Which language makes the prayers the shortest, the longest? 

No matter which language you use, to you the prayers sound the most beautiful in your mother tongue. That is how you’d memorized them, after all. Yet… you wish there had been room in your single suitcase to take your prayer books with you. 

“We’re almost there,” the ghoul says, snapping you out of your homesick reverie. His voice is deep and softer than you’d expected. There’s no spurt of hellfire from his mouth as you’d half-thought there would be, and no low rumble in his words that might signify he’s more beast than man. The ghoul, despite his bug-eyed mask, seems shockingly human. 

He steers the car through tall wrought-iron gates which seem to open automatically. You can see the tall peak of the Abbey’s bell tower peeking through the trees, and suddenly the reality that you’re very, very far from home hits you. 

You unfold the crinkled envelope in your hands and reread the letter for the hundredth time that day. 

Dear Sister, 

I hope this letter finds you well. 

We at the Abbey have recently uncovered a very important document which we require your expertise to translate. However, this document is extremely fragile and cannot be transported in the post. Papa Emeritus IV and the rest of the Clergy request your presence at the Abbey as soon as possible. 

We expect this project to take several months. Enclosed is a one-way ticket for you to travel to the airport closest to us, from which a car will transport you to the Abbey. We will discuss plans for your return to Marseille when you are nearing the end of your work here.

We anxiously await your arrival. 

Sincerely, 

Sister Imperator

The letter itself is quite presumptuous. Sister Imperator had assumed you were not busy, and assumed that you would be able to drop everything and travel halfway across the world for a months-long project. And then to use Papa’s name to exaggerate the importance of this mysterious document which she hadn’t even disclosed the nature of? 

Well… you can’t exactly say no to the woman who practically runs the Ministry’s affairs. 

The car takes a bend in the Abbey’s endless driveway and emerges into a clearing. Sitting far back on a sprawling lawn is a massive, imposing stone structure. The rows of trimmed hedges and flower bushes do little to soften the gothic hardness of it. Two pointed bell towers loom over the steep roof of what must be the chapel, with stained glass windows stretching up at least two storeys. The central image is of Baphomet, in his iconographic pose. The setting sun glints off of his golden halo. Sweet Satan, you think, your eyes tracking the window as the car rounds the drive. Baphomet alone must be taller than the entire height of Marseille. 

The ghoul pulls the car to a stop in front of the wide steps leading up to wooden double doors. A woman stands there, her hands clasped in front of her and her back straight, like the matron of this grand palace. You suppose she is–the severity of her expression alone leads you to believe that it’s Sister Imperator who waits for you.

You step out into the chilly air and shut the car door behind yourself. The ghoul already has your suitcase in hand and gestures for you to walk up the stairs before him. You wish he’d let you carry your own suitcase, if only to give your hands something to do, but you are far too stunned to ask. Climbing the shallow stone steps feels like stepping into another world. A world in which you feel far too plain to exist. 

“Sister,” The woman greets with a smile. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, which squint at you beneath slightly furrowed, well-groomed brows. She strikes you as someone who is all business, all the time. “How was your journey?” 

You return her smile as best you can. She speaks to you like you don’t understand English. “It went well, your dark eminence.” 

She seems a little surprised that you respond so fluently, but she quickly fixes her face into another warm grin. “I am glad to hear it,” she says. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m sure you must understand that this document is very important, and quite fragile. We would not risk losing it in the post.” “Of course,” you nod. “If I may ask, Sister Imperator, what is this document? You did not disclose it in your letter.” You gesture to the envelope safely stored in your jacket pocket. 

Sister Imperator turns to step inside the slightly ajar wooden door and you assume she wants you to follow. The ghoul accompanies you over the threshold, but at the wave of a hand from Sister Imperator, he turns down a narrow corridor with your suitcase and disappears around a corner. 

You are still a bit too overwhelmed to thank him. Instead, you look at the woman beside you. “The ghoul will bring your luggage to a room we have prepared for your stay,” she explains at your silent question.

She continues down the main hall, deeper into the Abbey. Your footsteps echo through the atrium, bouncing up to the high, painted ceilings and off the stone walls. There are a few wooden benches pushed back against the wall, with pots of surprisingly lush houseplants on either side. Framed oil paintings line the walls: some depicting biblical scenes, some of landscapes, and a few large, dignified portraits. You can tell by the distinct Papal paints in each portrait that the subject is a Papa, and you wonder which one depicts Papa Emeritus IV. You’ve never seen an image of His Unholiness before. 

After a few moments of silence, Sister Imperator speaks again. “We found the document last month, in one of the storage rooms in the Abbey’s basement.” She likes to use the royal ‘we’ a lot, you think. 

She continues. “One of our archivists believes that it is at least five hundred years old. It is very fragile, you see, and so we ask that you handle it with the utmost care as you work with it. We would prefer it if you used gloves. And frankly, Sister, I believe that you would want to. The leather is fairly rotten.” You stay silent as you follow slightly behind her. You’ve worked with old, rotten books before. The pages nearly crumble apart in your hands and the leather splits easily, but it’s nothing you can’t handle. 

“We believe it is a journal—a diary, rather, of someone very important in the Ministry’s history.” You find it strange that she doesn’t immediately disclose whose diary it might be. “Who, if I may ask?” “Elizabeth.” Sister Imperator’s voice is clipped as she answers you. She gives no further explanation. Just Elizabeth. 

There are millions of women named Elizabeth in the world. It is very likely that there is more than one important Elizabeth in the Ministry’s history as well. It’s a fairly common name, especially five hundred years ago (if the archivist is correct). For all you know, this document could be some random Sister’s sexual logbook, and documenting her sinful indulgences was her way of praying to the Lord Below. 

You break out of your ponderance over possibilities when Sister Imperator turns a corner to walk down another, slightly narrower (but still wide) corridor. She speaks again. “The book is to be kept in a lockbox at all times when you are not working with it. Under no circumstances is it to be removed from the Abbey library without my express permission, or the permission of Papa. Is that understood?” 

“Yes, Sister,” you answer hastily. Her tone of voice as she lays down the law makes you feel as though you’ve already made a mistake. 

“Now. The reason we need you, Sister, is because none of our own archivists or translators can figure out what language the journal is written in.” 

This piques your interest, and also slightly flatters you. “What do you mean?” you ask.

She releases a long-suffering sigh. “The writing is jumbled. It is a mess of letters and sometimes numbers, with no spaces whatsoever.” 

The possibilities immediately start to stack in your mind. Latin from the Roman era tended not to use spaces, a practice called ‘scriptio continua’. Ancient Greek also did this… but wouldn’t the in-house translators be able to read it? 

“I cannot explain it well enough,” Sister Imperator says. “You will have to see, Sister.” 

The two of you come to another set of large double doors. Sister Imperator pushes one open and steps inside, holding it open for you. You slip past her into a huge, bright room, filled with hundreds and hundreds of bookshelves. Immediately you are hit with the scent of old books and parchment paper, and the gentle sounds of turning pages. To your left sits an ornate wooden desk with one Sibling standing behind it. They are sorting books onto a three-tiered cart, presumably to put them away in the correct order. You accidentally make eye contact, but they smile politely and you respond in kind with a little wave. 

You avert your gaze upward towards the open second floor, which wraps around the large atrium and is protected by a dark oak bannister. A few Siblings linger on the catwalk, carrying books or making their way towards the wide staircase that opens to your right. The bottom floor of the atrium houses several wooden tables where another smattering of Siblings sit. Most other tables are empty save for an abandoned book or two. 

The late evening glow shines down into the room from a large, circular skylight in the middle of the ceiling. There are desk lamps and overhead lights scattered about but none have been turned on yet. 

It reminds you of the University library.

“Come,” Sister Imperator says after allowing you to gaze around the massive library for a moment. “The lockbox is in the restricted section. You will receive your own key while you are here but you are required to return it, directly to myself or the Head Librarian, before you leave.”

She leads you up the carpeted staircase and deep into the bowels of the second floor. Towards the back corner, where the shelves are labeled ‘Fiction - Romance’, there is a wooden door tucked against the wall. A sign beneath its small glass window reads ‘RESTRICTED’. Sister Imperator fishes a rather noisy set of keys from her pocket and finds the correct one to unlock the door. She pushes it open with a squeak that feels loud in the quiet of the library. When both of you are in the room and the door is shut behind you, she removes an identical key from her keyring and hands it to you. “Your copy,” she says. “Do not lose it.” 

The room isn’t cramped, but it is small compared to the atrium. A few single-person desks sit along the back wall, while the walls on either side of you are lined with glass boxes. Each box is shaped similarly to a narrow cubby, and houses a single book. Printed labels on the front face of each box display a box number and the name of the volume stored inside. 

“Your key allows you to access any of these boxes,” Sister Imperator explains to you, “but I do not expect you to require any of them, except for the diary you’ll be working with. It is kept in box number seven, which is here,” she points to a box about halfway up the rightmost column of cubbies. Using her key (still attached to the incredibly jingly keyring), she gently unlocks the box and it glides out like a drawer. 

You step beside her to look down into the glass drawer. The diary is wrapped in white linen, but you can see the faint brown color of the leather through the cloth. “The archivist requests that you keep the white cloth under the book at all times,” Sister Imperator says. She reaches down into the box and gently retrieves the diary, careful not to jostle the cloth too much. “It will protect the leather from further decay.” You don’t need her to explain how preservation works, but you appreciate it anyway. It saves you from having to ask, or endure another awkward silence. 

She places the book down on a nearby table and slowly unwraps the cloth. Already you can see small flecks of brown and orange sticking to it where the leather has rotted, but it seems to be fairly well preserved in light of its age. On the front cover in small, embossed gold letters is the name Elizabeth. 

“Elizabeth,” you say, understanding. 

“Elizabeth,” Sister Imperator replies. “That is the only word we have managed to decipher. Hopefully you will be able to help us with the rest.”

You nod. “I believe I can.” 

She wraps the cloth loosely around the book once more, and returns it to its box. “I do not expect you to start tonight, Sister. We will give you time to settle, and have something to eat. But from tomorrow morning until you are done, this is your sole responsibility. Do you understand?” 

Her sudden, almost intimidating tone surprises you. You bite the inside of your cheek–a nasty habit you’ve had since you were a child. “I understand, your Dark Eminence,” you say with another nod. 

Her face softens, as does her stare. “Please, just Sister is fine,” she says. You follow her again as she begins to lead you out of the Restricted room. “I believe the dinner hour is to start soon. I will show you to your dormitory, and then leave you to get settled.” 

She brings you back through the library and the main hall towards where you’d seen the ghoul disappear with your luggage. The dormitory hall is a long, narrow corridor with windows on one side and doors on the other. Each door is marked with a number and a nameplate, and in between each door are wall sconces lit by incandescent bulbs. Halfway down the hall there is an opening to a stairwell which, you assume, leads up to the second floor of the dormitories. You walk past many, many doors, some of which have two nameplates, until you reach the very end of the hall where there are unmarked doors. Sister finds her keyring again and unlocks one, then removes the key and hands it to you. 

“These rooms here are the guest quarters. They are typically not suited for long-term stays but we have prepared yours to have everything you will need. If you need anything, ask Sibling Superior and they will make sure that you receive it.”

Sister Imperator turns to leave, but then turns around. “You know, Sister,” she says, with a curious look. “For someone of your expertise, I thought you would have been… older.” You can’t tell if it’s praise or suspicion in her voice. “Yes, well,” you stall. How are you supposed to explain that language just comes naturally to you and that it’s not your fault you’re not old and wrinkly? “I suppose once you learn one language, all the rest come easy. Especially romance languages.” 

“Hm,” Sister Imperator hums, sizing you up for a moment. “Find me at the end of the week and we will talk about your progress. I’m sure you will know your way around by then.” 

It seems her well of kindness has run dry.  

~~~

If the loud ringing of the bell didn’t tell you that the dinner hour had started, then the steadily rising sounds of a crowd did. You can hear the murmurs of conversation even through your closed door. A few Siblings emerge from the dormitory next to yours, their chatting and laughing growing quieter as they walk down the corridor towards the refectory. The old wood floorboards creak above you from the movement of Siblings who occupy the second floor. All around you there is an excited bustle, and yet you don’t feel like joining it. 

You have never liked crowds. Especially crowds of strangers. And these strangers all seem to know each other, if the echoes of loud conversations tell you anything. 

But your stomach does rumble, and you feel rather weak from a day of travel, so you decide that it’s best to eat something before you go to bed. Once the corridor seems clear again, you quietly slip out your door (patting your pocket to make sure you remembered your key) and make your way to the refectory. Sister Imperator hadn’t shown it to you but you can make an educated guess as to where it is. 

When you emerge into the main hall, you see a few Siblings occupying the wood benches that had been previously empty. They all hold trays or to-go boxes on their laps. Some speak animatedly, enthralling their friends with stories from their eventful day, while others sit quietly beside each other and eat. You think that it might be nice to sit somewhere to eat so that you feel a bit more connected to the Abbey, but all of the benches are occupied. The ever-growing roar from the refectory does not seem too appealing, either. 

The large room is across the main hall from the library. When you turn the corner you see that it’s not as grand as the atrium, and that it only occupies one level. There are sheer curtains hung over the windows, which allow the sunlight to illuminate the room but keeps it from growing too warm. Siblings, Clergy members, and ghouls alike sit at long wooden tables not unlike those of your home Abbey. But these tables alone are longer than the entire length of the Marseille refectory, and once again you’re reminded that you’re quite far from home. 

No, you can’t eat here. Not tonight. 

There is a long counter stretching nearly wall-to-wall to the left of the door, where a dwindling line of Siblings make their dinner selections. Whatever meal the kitchens had prepared smells delicious but you find that you don’t have the appetite for it. However, close to where you stand in the doorway and nestled in the space between the wall and the counter, are a few baskets of fruit arranged on a small table. The baskets are nearly empty, with the only indication of their contents being the small pops of color peeking through gaps in the woven pattern. 

Despite not wanting a hot meal, you are hungry, and so you enter the refectory and move towards the baskets. You opt for two good-sized oranges–although the bananas do look perfectly ripe–and turn to leave as quickly as you came. Your eyes briefly sweep over the crowd and land on a long table, perpendicular to all the others, situated on a platform at the opposite end of the refectory. The platform isn’t tall, but it is just enough to raise the table’s occupants slightly above the Siblings. The table is entirely composed of men, save for Sister Imperator, who seems to be talking to an older man with Papal paints and long blonde hair–is that Papa?

You look at the others occupying the table, and find that no less than three are also wearing Papal paints. 

Marseille is a tiny Abbey. At any given time, only about ten Siblings reside there at once. And so there is no need for an upper Clergyman to be stationed there. Instead, the Chapter is run by Bishop Beaumont, who (until now) is the highest ranking member of the Satanic Ministry you have ever met, let alone seen. 

So, to be faced with not one, but four Papas, all in the same room, makes your heart thump with nerves. You recognize them all from the portraits in the main hall, but in person they are all so much more… just more. And yet you still don’t know who is who. 

Of course, you know that all four of the most recent reigning Papas are brothers, the order of which was determined by age. The man who Sister Imperator is talking to must be Papa Emeritus I, or Papa Primo, as you’ve heard him called by Bishop Beaumont. The other three look relatively close in age, and so you truly have no idea which man currently holds the helm and steers the ship. 

You realize you’re staring when you make eye contact with one of the Papas. You nearly gasp in surprise, as if you shouldn’t even be on the same plane of existence as him… and yet your eyes met. Of course one of them would have caught you eventually, you think. You were practically ogling them from across the room. 

Hastily, you turn and make your way back out of the refectory and into the main hall. Your eyes fall on the nearest portrait. The Papal paints of the subject match the ones of the man you’d just been caught staring at. You blush as if his portrait could think, and had just caught you a second time. Your eyes flick down to the gold plate affixed to the frame, and read the words. 

PAPA EMERITUS IV.

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