#it’s mundane in the sense that it happens all the time but not in the sense that it isn’t incredibly fascinating

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER NINE

09 : REPUTATION

CHPT. SUM. : Sirius and his close friends build up a reputation at school leading up to their return home for the winter holidays 

LENGTH : 10.7k

TAGS : domestic fluff ; marauders origins ; pranking shenanigans ; james is crushing hard ; reunited ; sirius comes home for the holidays! ; investigations lead to a shocking discovery

← PREV. 08 : PASTRIES | SERIES M.LIST

9th October 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

You didn’t need to help Ruth or Damocles on Saturdays or Saturdays as they strictly wanted to keep the weekends to themselves. They've also been feeling very guilty about taking too much of your time. You argued against it but appreciated that they understood how important it was for them to spend time with each other and for you to spend time with your son. Regulus wasn’t one to complain, either. He loved spending time at the Potions shop and talking with Ruth, but he loved spending time with his mother most. Regulus often stayed in the study with you, reading, drawing or chatting while you worked at your desk. Sometimes, you’d write letters to Sirius together, talking about mundane things that happened throughout your day or week.

Surprisingly, you haven’t heard of any mischief from Sirius. You’re confident that he and the marauders would already be causing some sort of trouble, so you were quite confused. However, whenever you look at Regulus reading Sirius’ letters with such concentration and a hidden smile, his eyes glittering with excitement, you can hazard a guess as to why your letters are much milder than the ones Regulus seems to receive from his brother. You suppose Sirius doesn’t want to out himself as being a troublemaker in school. And, although you appreciate his consideration of you and his want to come across as a well-behaved son, you’re itching to know about all the trouble he’s caused. The fandom hardly knows anything about the Marauders and, now that you have the chance to know what they were up to personally, you’re eager to be let in on all of their secrets.

Nevertheless, after a mostly quiet day with Regulus spent on decorating the halls and rooms of the house with the dried lavender sprigs you had bought off of the Belby’s, you leave him to his own devices before dinner while you investigate the parlour room once more. You’ve left it too long out of your own cowardice and fear. Confrontations were something you were used to, but more so in the business sense; however, this was something entirely new to you. Walburga was the proud matriarch of the ancient and most noble house of Black. Her reputation made the room and its appalling contents all the more concerning. Dark magic was definitely at play, something you had no experience in, and confronting that will always be terrifying to you. Regardless, you remember spotting some books strewn about the room and in your search for answers to help Belby with the Wolfsbane potion, you were willing to get your hands on those books for the research. It’ll be like hitting two birds with one stone; your investigations will also bring you closer to figuring out what the original Walburga was up to.

Taking a breath, you absorb the sound of the grandfather clock striking 5 pm and watch as the secret parlour entrance appears before you once more. This time, you know what to expect, so you came prepared with some spells in mind as well as something to cover the sacrilegious, bloody ritual placed at the very centre of the room. You open the door and wrinkle your nose. It’s dark and musty. With a swish of your wand and a small incantation uttered under your breath, you will the wall lamps to liven up the space with a warm glow. You step in as the heavy doors shut behind you and frown at the dismal room despite the lamps’ touch of light. This time, you aim your spell onto the heavy curtains across the room. The thick, heavy drapes gently pull apart, allowing sunlight to flood the space, and you happily go about fixing up the disorderly area. First, you open the window, encouraging the fresh breeze to sweep inside and wash away the old mustiness suspended in the air.

Tidying up where you can, you leave the central ritual largely untouched, wanting to investigate it later on. The rotting owl carcass was the only thing you handled, magicking it away and relishing in the peace that floods you as soon as it disappears. That poor creature must have suffered a lot from Walburga’s hands; you felt horrible for simply throwing it away, but the suffering and poor intentions it symbolised were too overwhelming to ignore and keep. If you wanted to be productive about the room, it needed to go. Other than that, your main objective was the books and the loose pages that were carelessly strewn about. With a helpful swish of your wand, you collect all the papers and books into neat piles. Another flick shrinks them to a miniature size that you step forth to easily pocket.

That’ll do for now.

Satisfied, you hurry out of the room and shut the door firmly behind you after turning the lamps off and shutting the windows. Despite the rotten owl carcass being gone, the claustrophobia clung to you like a parasite unwilling to part. It weighed heavily on your form and made breathing far too difficult to withstand for a long period despite the fresh air filtering in. You’ll happily investigate the books and pages in your home office. It’ll help to analyse your evidence with a clear mind and in a space you can easily associate with unfaltering focus.

Shaking off the bad energy that still clung to you from the parlour, you make your way into your home office and take a seat behind your desk. The strange fact about these books, you find, is that all except one don’t have any distinguishing covers. The only book with a cover was the one left wide open at the centre of the writing desk and had its pages scornfully ripped out. Tracing the vintage leather cover of the defiled book, you frown at its obsolete title. These were symbols you couldn’t read, and you dread to think that the pages were written with the same indecipherable words. Flicking through the pages, a brief examination, you groan.

“Great...” you sigh at the offending symbols that stare at you mockingly from the decrepit pages of the ancient book. As you suspected, the book’s contents were also written in the same illegible language as the front cover’s title. Until you can find a way to decode the foreign language, you’ll keep the book and its loose pages in an empty drawer at your desk, one with a helpful little lock on it. Optimistically, you hope that the blank-covered books didn’t have the same issue. The random book you grab weighs heavy in your hands but in an oddly familiar way. Peculiar… Thinking nothing of it, you flick to the first page and gasp.

‘CHAPTER ONE’

‘OWL POST’

‘Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one thing...’ This was the third Harry Potter book — one of your favourites in the series.

With a shake of your head, you hurriedly flick through the pages as the pebble in your stomach grows into a boulder and fixes you to your chair. Rushing to open another book, you’re, again, met with more familiar passages from the beloved book series you grew up loving and often turned to for comfort in your adult years. All seven blank-covered books were the seven full books from the Harry Potter series! You think you’re going to be sick… she had the books… Walburga had the bloody Harry Potter books! How did she get them?!

“You’re unusually quiet today, Walburga...” you utter to yourself, urging the standardly shrieking witch in the back of your mind to step up and answer your racing questions. “I know you’re in there somewhere. Are you scared I found you out? What were you planning to do with all this new information, huh?” You drum your nervous fingers along one of the book’s blank hard covers.

“Well?!…” you wait for a response you weren’t going to receive, “Answer. Me. You. Ugly. Scheming. Pretentious. Bitch of a mother!” you spit and grit through your clenching teeth, trying your best not to raise your voice too loud. Getting Regulus or Orion’s attention now wouldn’t be ideal. You don’t know how long you wait for a response, but it was clear that you weren’t going to receive any. Begrudgingly, you lock away the Harry Potter books as well, ensuring that they couldn’t be accessed without a key; if these books got into the wrong hands, it wouldn’t end well for anybody, lest the very characters you were fighting for. What a heavy burden this will be.

There was a positive to this, however. You can rely on these books for information on the world and the Horcruxes.

16th October 1971 | Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room

Sirius couldn’t believe how content he felt in his current environment. He worried that with the recent changes at home, he would miss being with Regulus and his newly changed mother; however, due to the constant stream of letters they exchanged, he lacked that sense of homesickness. And, although he spent the same amount of time on writing letters back as he did writing up his homework, leaving his wrist terribly exhausted, he was content.

Hogwarts and Gryffindor house had become his second home, especially with the people he had surrounded himself with and the few he established as his close friends, especially James. Unlike his brotherhood with Regulus, Sirius had found a camaraderie with James that isn’t based on any blood relation, making their immediate bond that much more special to him. They veer to one another like binary stars, both gravitationally bound and orbiting each other. Sirius, with his aristocratic upbringing and rebellious nature; James, with his untamed energy and proneness for attracting the attention of those around him. However, it wasn’t only them. There was Remus, their shy and quiet friend with bibliophile tendencies. Sirius found that the best way to get him talking was to speak on books, something he was well-versed in, thanks to Regulus. And then, there was Peter, who made his eagerness to be part of the group known, always trailing after them, cracking his hilariously unfunny jokes, enchanted by James and Sirius’ boundless charisma, desperate to replicate it and make it his own, while also captivated by Remus’ smarts and bookishness, always looking to him for academic inspiration.

The first couple of months consisted of typical school things, making friends, getting into a routine and indulging in education. However, after the trouble they had found themselves in when trying to follow Remus the night of that haunting full moon, the boys have grown a tendency to create and find trouble.

Late one evening, James and Sirius were taking advantage of the mostly deserted common room, observing the only other people there, a pair of older students arguing over a wizarding chessboard. With a cheeky smirk and his round glasses slipping down his nose, James leaned over to whisper in Sirius’ ear, “Do you know what would make this more entertaining?” When Sirius looks to his friend, he sees the contagious glimmer of mischief in his hazel eyes.

“What?” Sirius can feel the swell of impishness infect him and pull the edges of his own lips up into a smirk. He knows that, whatever James suggests, he’s going to like what he has to say.

“If their pieces started arguing back.” They share a silent, maniacal laugh between them, expressed purely through their eyes.

“Let’s do it!” Sirius whispered back with an air of eagerness. It was so tempting to laugh aloud, carefree and raucous, but he was wary of the prefect standing close by. “How did that animation spell go, again?”

Not knowing the spell wasn’t a big obstacle for the two, they remained undeterred and went to enlist Remus. Typical of their prim and proper friend, Remus looked horrified at the suggestion, but there was a level of intrigue in his eyes that Sirius eagerly pointed out and used to convince him enough to indulge them. Together, they scoured their charms books for potentially helpful spells and were pointed to the correct chapters by Remus. Peter, poor Peter, was also roped in for the extra labour, unable to resist James and Sirius’ convincing arguments and twinkling smirks. Remus sends the portly boy a disappointed look but blushes when Peter returns the same disappointment towards him as if to say, ‘You volunteered to help first, mate. Don’t look at me like that.’

‘Well, they targeted me first,’ was what was conveyed in the look Remus had sent him back. Nevertheless, it was all in good humour, and the two smiled about it to themselves for a moment before Sirius and James complained that they were hardly helping and pushed their noses down into the pages with them. It took several nights, but they believed they had found the perfect spell. Thankfully, the two argumentative Gryffindors routinely played their game of chess on weekend evenings. James and Sirius practised the spell several times in their dorm room before they were confident in its execution. On the day of their grand chessboard prank, Peter stood by the Prefect on duty, nervously keeping watch as Remus pretended to read a book by the fireplace, and James and Sirius went in for their rehearsed stunt.

Despite their endless practice, however, their first attempt was a disaster! Rather than the pawns coming to life, James pointed the incantation and made it explode instead. The chess piece went out with a puff of black smoke. The only thing left of was its sooty remains, forever marking the chessboard. As the two chess players gasped at the sudden explosion and argued to death, firing accusations at the other for being the one to make it happen, Sirius shook his head disapprovingly.

“Brilliant one, James,” Sirius sarcastically comments, clapping his friend on the shoulder as he grumbles to himself. “We’ll try again, though. And we won’t stop until there’s success.”

Not so easily dissuaded, the two continued their attempts until the chess pieces became an incoherent mess of chatter that rivalled the chess players’ own arguments. It had become such a recurring spectacle that the common area had gradually filled up with other students throughout the weeks, eyeing the chess game for anything interesting that had been rumoured to happen. However, in their attempt at success, they had abandoned all caution for getting caught in the act, leaving them face to face with a very unamused, very irate fifth-year with flaring nostrils.

“Why don’t you find something more productive to do with your time?” the fifth-year lashes out, barely able to contain their irritation. “This isn’t very funny!”

“Au Contraire~ my friend,” Sirius sings playfully as James chuckles beside him, “It was very funny, right guys?” he asks the audience, who cheer wildly, prompting him and James to bow at the waist. Both were happy to provide the entertainment of the night. From his usual seat at the fireplace, Remus rolls his eyes but hides his smirk behind his book as Peter snickers to himself, quite proud of having participated in the background.

And so began the group’s reign of harmless, silly pranks. In the following weeks, the Gryffindor common room became the group’s testing facility for experiments, much to the amusement and irritation of their fellow Gryffindor housemates. It was a double-edged sword; they managed to earn equal amounts of love and abhor for their efforts.

One week, they had enchanted the cushions into making flatulent sounds whenever someone sat down, a surprising suggestion from Remus, who was well-versed in muggle pranks and had introduced them to the concept of a whoopie-cushion. Another week, they enchanted pages to appear blank in borrowed books from the library that were haphazardly left out, a lesson they wanted to teach those who were careless with books in Remus’ place. Another evening, they had enchanted the dining hall goblets to sing ‘God Save the Queen’ whenever someone tried to take a sip of their pumpkin juice, pushing everyone to drink simple water instead. The pranks weren’t sophisticated, but it was enough that they managed to draw out waves upon waves of laughter from their peers and even some teachers. Professor Flitwick was especially impressed with the prank purely from a charm-casting perspective. Remus, however, was stubbornly pouty about the whole thing, constantly muttering on about how irresponsible and silly they were being.

“Come on, Lupin,” James pleads playfully, cosying up beside the bookish brunette, “You can’t deny helping us with that chessboard prank. Don’t pretend you’re above it. Why, I’d go so far as to say that you’d be quite brilliant if you actually put in the effort. You’d have Sirius and me beat!”

Remus buries his nose further into his book, avoiding the contagious mischief in his friends’ hazel eyes, “I only helped because leaving you two to your own devices only spells trouble,” he huffs, lowering his voice to murmur to himself, “you would have blown up the entire common room, otherwise…”

“Exactly!” Sirius claps and points to Remus, settling down on his other side and draping an arm over his shoulders, “You’re morally obligated to keep us from doing something truly catastrophic. You’re the good to our bad Lupin—”

“So you admit that what you did is bad.”

“And you admit that you’re doing the good~” Sirius was such a stubborn wall. “Consider it a public service.”

“Oh, don’t roll your eyes again at us; do that too often, and they’ll get stuck back there—” James comments off-handedly but comes to a stuttering stop when a devious thought comes to mind, “Say... there’s an idea~”

“No, James! No!” Remus protests, quickly purging the thought of yet another prank from James’ mind. He knew exactly where James’ thoughts were trailing towards from his words, and he didn’t like the notion one bit! Peter snickers to himself with Sirius at the display. James held his hands in surrender as Remus pointed a narrowed stare at him, a silent warning against committing such a cruel prank.

Soon enough, however, Remus also became a willing participant. At the ripe age of eleven years, he was more fascinated than repelled by James and Sirius’ creative antics, stemming from the perversity of James’ natural prankster nature and glamourised by Sirius’ likeness to flamboyance, giving the otherwise amateurish pranks a vivacious flare. It wasn’t only Remus, however; Peter was also roped in, easily swayed by his friends’ characters, somewhat addicted to pleasing them and being part of the group.

While James and Sirius spearheaded the misbehaviour, coming up with endless pranks, Remus suggested they set aside a separate notebook to document every idea, establishing himself as the group’s moderator. He was the one to suggest modifying elements of their plans and encouraging them to test the spells beforehand, personally doing so himself most of the time. Meanwhile, Peter had the space to become emboldened by James and Sirius’ encouragement. However, there remained a hesitance that Remus deeply understood in Peter whenever their portly friend pulled away from playing any of the daring roles in their schemes.

“Sirius and James are better for it,” Peter excused and was happy for his excuse to be so easily accepted.

Their dynamic was gradually being set: James and Sirius were the primary driving forces, dubbing them the ringleaders by many. They were constantly pouring out their many prank ideas into the notebook Remus had provided them with. Remus was the strategist who safeguarded their plans and affiliated spells. He liked to think that he was doing public service, ensuring that his friends didn’t get carried away and making certain that their plans didn’t spiral out of control. Leaving Peter as the loyal accomplice, always the first one to step up and prove his willingness to share in the daringness and mischief. They had become a solid group with a mounting reputation of being equal irritants and entertainers to the professors and students. Their friendship was ossified by shared laughter and devious plots whispered amongst them, their loyalties to each other as hard as diamonds.

Other than their pranks, however, James had other occupations, one that flooded his mind with the image of a beautiful red-haired girl, who had the most striking emerald eyes. Her name: is Lily Evans. As beautiful as the flower of her namesake. He was smitten the instant he saw her on the platform, smiling widely, her eyes sparkling with rapture as she waved her family goodbye and stepped onto the train with her luggage. Not only was she the most beautiful girl James had ever laid eyes on, but she was also brilliant. As a muggleborn, he didn’t expect her to be so bright and well-read on the wizarding world, but that only made him fall even deeper for her. In one of their early Potion classes, she had brewed the cure for boils with such effortless grace that their potions professor (Professor Slughorn) was brimming with pride, his eyes taking a shine to her already. James, on the other hand, wasn’t so talented. Despite his father’s success in potions, he had managed the impossible task of melting his cauldron, which earned him a thorough scolding from Professor Slughorn. He had been so distracted by the red-haired beauty in his periphery, that he barely registered the heat of the fire, and Peter was too hesitant to voice anything. From across the room, Sirius and Remus snickered under their breaths at him, earning them a narrowed gaze, but what had killed James was the unimpressed look Lily had sent his way.

So much for a good first impression.

As determined as he was to succeed with his pranks, however, James had the same stubbornness when it came to his newfound love. No, this wasn’t a mere crush; this was love. The same love his parents shared and were never shy about displaying. He wanted a soft, everlasting love like them, and he knew— deep down —he knew that it had to be with Lily Evans.

From afar, he watched her with longing, adoring eyes, admiring her subtle habits and dazzling smile, blown away by her viridescent stare. Her laughter easily fills up a room, and he finds himself eager to draw out as much of the sweet sound from her as possible. However, there was a conflicting emotion when James quickly realised the astonishing amount of time she spent with Severus Snape, a Slytherin boy with greasy black hair, paper-pale skin and dark, dark eyes. They appeared to share an interest in potions, always becoming the most efficient potion partners whenever they shared a potions class with the Slytherins. However, that doesn’t account for how often James sees them together outside of class, this simple fact making a bitter dislike fester from deep inside him, immediately and viscerally so.

“What does she even see in him?” James scoffs, muttering to himself resentfully as he struggles to come up with any new pranks; his mind is too preoccupied. Even the heat of the fireplace couldn’t tempt him into indulging in the cosy atmosphere that evening.

Sirius, who had been plotting beside him, shrugged, “Maybe Evans just has a thing for greasy hair.”

James makes a disgusted face, “No way! Not her,” he refuses to believe she would have such an unorthodox preference, “I’m going to do something about it,” Sirius raises a brow in silent question, his interest piqued; he’s always up for a good prank, no matter the target. With a devilish smirk, James pulled Sirius in by the shoulders, and the two began to scheme.

The following morning, it quickly became known that the Slytherin table was bewitched. Another prank. Whenever someone tried to eat their breakfast, their utensils flew out of their hands in protest and began sword fighting on the table. It caused such a ruckus that James and Sirius earned themselves a week’s long detention, but James couldn’t care less. Despite seeing her supposed friend’s misery from across the table, the defeated look Snape had sent her was enough to make Lily Evans laugh—really laugh— the sound so beautiful and twinkling like the stars, James felt no guilt. That was his reward, and it trumped any punishment. He would do it again and again just to hear her laugh once more.

The Christmas holidays were fast approaching, and the boys had made quite the reputation of themselves, their pranks only having grown bolder as the days went by. It was equally exciting and apprehensive all at once to everyone except the four, as anybody could be their potential, new ‘victim’. Even professors weren’t exempt from their schemes; McGonagall could attest to that when she had to suffer having vivid blue hair for an entire afternoon following an ‘accidental’ charm they had cast during her transfiguration class. That wasn’t escaping her, however, and they landed themselves another evening of detention with Filch.

Despite the chaos they caused, however, it was never mean-spirited. The end goal for their antics was always laughter. James was adamant about earning it from Lily Evans, his love. Sirius was adamant about earning it for himself, wanting the most from his school experience away from home, just so he always had something to write to Regulus about. Remus was adamant about ensuring that everybody was laughing, holding onto the belief that the pranks weren’t funny if only a select few had the privilege to laugh. And Peter was just happy to be surrounded by laughter and high spirits. The group’s ‘prankster’ reputation was sealed. They had fostered an unbreakable brotherhood.

James still had a long way to go before he even had the chance to earn Lily’s affection and heart. But, for the moment, he was content with the brothers he had found and bonded with, brothers he didn’t have the pleasure of growing up beside but eventually managed to find in his dorm mates and friends.

18th December 1971 | Hogwarts, Dining hall

Sirius was eager to get to breakfast, and considering James was the only morning person around, the two of them went to the dining hall at a good time despite it being the weekend. Remus and Peter weren’t as willing to get an early breakfast; however, favouring sleep and groggily ushered the other two away, promising they’d meet them at the dining all in their own time.

“Just save our seats,” Remus asked them to promise, his voice dripping with sleep.

“Funny how you’re not the typical morning person on the weekdays,” James begins after stretching his arms up and giving a resounding groan, “but you always get really excited whenever it’s Saturday morning.” Despite stating this, it was obvious what James was getting at.

“Oh, shut it,” Sirius huffs with a roll of his eyes, “it’s just routine, is all.” The eldest Black brother didn’t lie. It was routine for your letters to arrive on Saturdays, whereas Regulus liked to keep a steady flow of letters coming throughout the week. Although this could demonstrate a lack of interest on your part, Sirius understood that you were busy with the household and taking care of Regulus; he was only happy that you had yet to miss a single week. That amount of dedication was more than enough for him. He’s also very happy about the news he received from you and his favourite uncle, Alphard. His uncle had expressed his concerns in letters following his sorting ceremony, but Sirius was quick to reassure him, promising that his mother was just as happy about his sorting as he was. Sirius could tell that his Uncle wasn’t convinced and patiently awaited the day he would see for himself that his mother had changed for the better. And what a brilliant day that was. He received letters immediately from Regulus and his Uncle. he had to wait for his mother’s Saturday letter, but the good news was consistent throughout the different dialogues, proving its truth.

Good news seemed to be the only thing Sirius reads in the letters he receives from home. And he’d like to reciprocate that, especially for his mother. He wants to do well by her despite her assurances that she will always love and support him no matter what. He omits a large portion of his letters’ contents for you, not out of malice but in consideration for your standing as his mother. You’ve made such a turnaround for him and Regulus, he owes it to you to be a good student. So he writes all about his good grades and excellence in class, especially for his flying lessons, where things could easily become dangerous. He wouldn’t dare write a single word to you about the amount of mischief he and the boys have been up to. Yes, he felt guilty, but he was only sparing you the worry. He wasn’t even the only one omitting such details; he knows for a fact that James, Peter and Remus were also doing the same.

“Finally, breakfast!” Sirius regales, sitting at his usual seat and quickly piling up his plate. James, who sat across from him, mirrored his actions with the same amount of enthusiasm. Both had a bottomless pit for a stomach, a similarity they enjoyed sharing. They enjoyed sharing many similarities, actually, differences too. All throughout breakfast, James would see Sirius look up constantly, searching the enchanted ceilings for any owls, his eyes sharpening and glowing with eagerness at the sight of a familiar gold ribbon that would streak through the air with a letter written just for him.

“Mother’s letter~” James says in a mocking, airy tone, mimicking his friend’s common practice as soon as he receives a familiar, wax-sealed envelope addressed to him in your swirling handwriting.

“Bugger off, James!” Sirius laughs, playfully kicking his friend in the shin from beneath the table, earning a small exclamation of pain. But the grins on their faces haven’t slipped off. This was normal teasing, not worth getting offended over; a great way to start their day.

“What does it say?” James asks through a mouthful of toast, butter and strawberry jam — he's almost completely incoherent.

“Like I’d tell you.” Sirius rolls his eyes, unfurling the letter within and reading to himself with a smile. In his head, he imagines your voice reading the words to him personally. He often does this. He does it for your letters, for Regulus’ and for his Uncle Alphard’s too.

‘My dearest son, Sirius,’ He smiles at your usual opening. It never fails to make his chest flood with warmth at your affectionate address. He still can’t believe he receives such letters from you despite not being in Slytherin. You were once so adamant that he be sorted into the House of Snakes, but not anymore, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Because, you not caring about which house he gets into, shows that you accept him for him, and that’s all he could ever wish for.

‘It’s not long now until you come home. We all miss you terribly, Regulus and I, especially so.’ Sirius scoffs at the subtle mention of his father. He appreciates your delicateness on the matter, but he couldn’t care less; he gets enough familial love from you and Regulus, and even his uncle. Despite his father being largely neglectful, Sirius’ days are filled with warmth and happiness, knowing that he has you and Reggie and Uncle Alphard— his version of family is complete. Nothing else needs to be added or subtracted, it’s perfect as is, no matter how small compared to the rest of his family tree.

‘The Yule holidays will be a special one, I have so many fun activities planned for the family.’ Sirius’ eyebrows fly to his hairline, his eyes widening with excitement at your words. The winter holidays were always a dull affair, with the celebrations mainly consisting of soirees and events with the other pureblood, sacred 28 families. For the first time, Sirius was allowing himself to feel actual elation for what may come. Now that you’ve changed for the better, he wonders what sorts of fantastical things you’ve planned. He recalls the fun extracurricular lessons you meticulously put in place for him and Reggie, lessons that weren’t tedious to get through or spiritless in nature; rather, he always looked forward to them and often found himself bouncing around in anticipation for what you may have planned that day. From that judgment alone, he knows he’s in for a real treat.

‘Regulus doesn’t know anything, only that I have something special planned for all of us. And you will be just as clueless as him until the day finally arrives.’ With a grin Sirius, shakes his head, eyes filled with amusement. He doesn’t mind waiting for a surprise he knows will be anything but boring. It’ll be better than any of those soirees and stiff dinners. He’s heard many tales from his close friends about how they spend their winter holidays with their families, and it always made him a little jealous when theirs seemed more fun than his. James had hot chocolate every night and decorated the tree together with his parents, who also allowed him to fly outside on his broom so long as he dressed well. Peter baked gingerbread with his mother, and they assembled a house together for the little gingerbread men to live in. Remus would watch muggle Christmas films with his parents every night leading up to Christmas day and get up early to unwrap presents, after which they would cook and eat breakfast together. It was all quite mundane, but it sounded so magical to Sirius. He wants that for Regulus. He wants it for his family. Maybe this year, their winter holiday, their Yule, would feel a lot more magical.

‘I can’t wait to hear all about Hogwarts from you in person. I’ve missed you so much. All I want is for you to hurry home so we can all be together again. It’s truly not the same without you here.’

As he finishes off the letter, James begins to laugh, filling in Remus and Peter as they groggily take their seats beside them. “This loon was all giddy over his letter again,” James teases, pointing a finger at Sirius, who huffs but fails to hide his smile and simply returns the letter to its envelope. It was a careful ritual he did to preserve each and every letter he received. He’s eaten out an entire tin of the biscuits you had baked with Regulus and sent him, and he used it to store all the letters he has received from the two of you. It was his most precious treasure at school. Sirius didn’t care for much, and he’s been able to better reign in his temper, but if anyone were to touch those letters, he’d go on a blind rampage.

“It’s good to know that his Mother cares so much about him,” Remus comments, smiling through his tiredness as he piles his plate on with a helping of scrambled eggs and a few slices of bacon.

Sirius smirks and gives James a look, “That’s right, why aren’t you happy for me Jamie?~” Peter begins to snicker as James splutters a response, “Are you jealous I get more letters from my Mother than you?”

“Shut up!” James flicks a splatter of jam at him from across the table with the bread knife he had been using to spread it over his toast.

Shielding himself with his hands, Sirius laughs, “Oi! Watch it!”

“…Wanker…” James utters under his breath, but there’s no lingering malice between them. This was as peaceful as breakfast can go between the four.

Another regular occurrence at breakfast is James’ wandering eyes and his longing stare at a renowned, witty and otherwise disinterested redhead. A fellow Gryffindor who had a close and unusual friendship with a Slytherin. They made for an unusual pair, but Sirius had no problems with them. His main focus was on James’s obvious crush.

“Evans again, eh?” Peter pipes up through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, only to snicker when James hurriedly shushes him. Sirius wasn’t the only one interested in James’ transparent puppy love, it seems.

“Shut your gob, Peter; she’ll hear you.” There was an evident blush on James’ cheeks, and the entire group giggled at his expense. The playful banter, however, evaporates as soon as James sees Lily stand to head out with her supposed friend, Snape. His expression falls so drastically, the tension in the air becomes palpable, “I don’t like him one bit...”

“Why? Because he’s with your girlfriend?” Sirius snickers, trying to keep the atmosphere light-hearted only to duck out of the way when James sends another splatter of jam his way. The next time he does that, Sirius swears he’ll try to aim the jam into his mouth just to be silly and rile James up more.

“No! I don’t!”

“Liar liar! Lying to your friends isn’t a very good habit Jamie~”

James rolls his eyes while Remus and Peter giggle to themselves, “I’m serious—”

“I thought you were James? I’m Sirius,” Remus and Peter begin cackling, sharing high fives between themselves and Sirius as James grumbles lowly. Suddenly, his friend reaches over the table to swat at his hair until Sirius pleads for him to stop. The two of them share an amused grin until James sighs, seemingly having reigned in his bitterness.

“He’s a Slytherin…and she’s a Gryffindor, it just doesn’t make sense.”

Sirius raised a brow, “What’s wrong with Slytherin?” his lips had moved before he could stop himself, and he looked around cautiously for a moment, knowing the rivalry between the two houses well, “It’s just that… I could have been in Slytherin.”

“But that’s just it; you weren’t sorted into Slytherin, he was,” James expresses, clearly speaking about Snape.

Sirius stays silent as Remus quickly picks the conversation back up, not wanting the tension to continue needlessly, “Just admit your crush and that you’re jealous James,” This earns a smirk from Sirius and Peter, and they all simultaneously give James a singular, teasing look.

“I’m not jealous of him!”

“Seems to me like you are~"

James groans and decides to leave the subject altogether. “My breakfast is getting cold because of you. Leave me alone.” They share another light-hearted laugh and finally focus back on the better subject of food.

21st December 1971 | King’s Cross Station, Platform 9¾ 

Standing at the platform with Regulus vibrating with excitement at your side and Orion standing off near the brick walls of the station, together, as a family, you await Sirius’ arrival. It was a cold winter’s day, but you could barely feel the chilling temperatures through your eagerness. You wonder if Sirius had grown much taller since the last time you saw him, you wonder if he still has the same preferences in food, and you wonder if he was happy to reunite with you all again. None of that mattered, however, not when he would be arriving soon, safe and sound — you just couldn’t wait to have him in your arms again.

Regulus has been especially excited for today, eager to dress himself for the occasion — in fact, he was the first one at the door this morning. You were second, and Orion came trailing behind as the third. Kreacher was helpfully staying behind to finish up the grand lunch spread you had begun making for Sirius to come home to. He must be terribly tired from the long journey. But it’s nothing some good food and family time at the table could help.

“How much longer do you think he’ll be, Mother?” Regulus asks, looking up at you with starry eyes.

“I don’t know, little love,” you express honestly, observing the congregating families around you, “but I hope he’ll get here soon.” The two of you share a smile and look back onto the tracks once more, fervidly awaiting the arrival of the train.

“I…I think I hear something,” Regulus comments softly, straining his ears and stretching his neck out to better see the path of the potentially arriving train.

“Regulus, be careful!” you fret, hurriedly pulling him back to safety, but he had no care for it, already bouncing in place.

“It’s coming! The train is coming!” His elated exclamation can be heard throughout the platform and makes all the surrounding families straighten in anticipation for their sons and daughters, who are finally coming home for the holidays.

“I know it’s exciting, but there wasn’t a need for you to put yourself at risk, alright? Regulus?” you look into his eyes meaningfully as he nods, “Promise me you won’t do something so silly again.”

The soft pink cheeks of your youngest, due to the biting cold, become all the more pink from your worry, but he nods agreeably. “Yes, Mother. I’m sorry.” Smiling satisfactorily, you kiss his crown and pull yourselves back even further as the train finally arrives at the station. It arrives with a flurry of smoke and an echoing horn. Sirius is here. You try to keep your heart at bay, feeling as though it would fly out of your chest, just at the idea of Sirius being so close. Glancing behind you, Orion leant against the brick wall, looking around impatiently and with such dull disinterest that your excitement was momentarily overcast. What an unpleasant attitude to have. Was he not happy for Sirius to be home after so long? He can stay back there for all you care. For now, you focus on searching the globulous crowds flocking to the train entrances for your eldest son.

You made sure to clearly inform Regulus about your plans for collecting Sirius at the station. Rightfully predicting the large mass of people, you warned him to keep his distance and stay close to you. It was important that he not let his excitement get the best of him, or else he would be putting himself in danger by carelessly mixing in with the crowds of people.

“Stay close, Reggie,” you remind him, and he gives your hand a reassuring clench.

Searching the crowds carefully, you try to find Sirius as quickly as possible. You try to pick out his pale skin, his angular features, his glittering grey eyes and his mess of black hair. The search was made rather difficult because of the bustling crowds, but you stood your ground, only cursing the masses in your head for keeping you away from your son longer than needed.

“Mother!” came a distant but approaching shout, and your head snapped to the voice’s direction, “Reggie!” Sirius breaks through the crowd with an adoring, toothy grin that you had long missed.

“Sirius!” Regulus shouts and runs to his brother with open arms. From your place, you watch their reunion with fond eyes, doing your best to wait patiently for when Sirius would make it the rest of the way to you.

“I missed you so much!” Sirius laughs into his little brother’s hair.

“I missed you too, Siri…” Regulus sighs into his older brother’s chest. It’s been too long since they’ve last seen each other. Those letters weren’t enough. “Come!” he grabs his older brother’s hand and leads him back to you. “Mother’s missed you too!”

Sirius looks up and grins before running into your wide-open arms, sighing into the thick fabric of your jacket. You use one hand to shrink his luggage and have Regulus pocket them while Orion begrudgingly carries his owl’s cage. You’ve knelt to meet him at his height, pressing his face into your shoulder as you prop your chin over his own.

“Oh! My darling, my darling~” you coo, finally allowing yourself to savour the feel of him in your arms, “I’ve missed you so so much!”

“I missed you too, Mother!” Sirius grins, his spirit bright and shining through his beautiful grey eyes, “Thank you for picking me up.” his politeness makes you awe and begin peppering his face with kisses. “S-stop!” he chuckles, clearly not opposed to the affection in the slightest. “You’re embarrassing me in front of my friends.”

“Friends?” you stutter, pausing as you look behind him to see the young marauders holding back devious smirks at the sight. It appears as though they have already introduced themselves to Regulus, who finds his way back to you with a wide smile.

“They all sound nice, Mother,” Regulus comments, positioning himself beside you and facing the three school boys who arrived with his brother, doing his best to ignore Orion’s displeased expression and narrowed gaze. His father had been very irritable and impatient this morning. It was very disappointing to see, but Regulus didn’t allow it to pollute his personal delight over Sirius’ return.

“Let me introduce you,” Sirius starts with a messy-haired young man with round glasses, standing at a healthy height and with the faintest dimples showing in his cheeks. “This one is called James,”

“This one?!” James blanches, making you all laugh before he finally greets you properly, “James Potter, here! Good afternoon, Ma’am,”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, James,” you smile kindly at him, trying to temper your racing mind and heart as best as you can. The marauders were right in front of you. How surreal! So distracted were you at keeping your reactions reasonable that you completely missed the slight shock that crossed all three boys’ expressions before they melted into a soft look of admiration — one similar to puppy love. You’re pretty... was their silent but unanimous conclusion. They only caught a glimpse of you from the dining hall on the day Sirius had been called to see Dumbledore, but seeing you up close made them realise how small of a glimpse they caught of your beauty. Perhaps it was also because of how loving they knew you to be through Sirius that their puppy love blossomed so easily.

“This is Peter,” Sirius gestures to a portly boy with sandy blonde hair and chubby cheeks flushed red from the cold.

“H-hello, Madam, it’s Peter Pettigrew,” Peter greets shyly, finishing off his introduction whilst avoiding your eyes.

“Hello, Peter.” You can’t help but admire how adorable-looking Peter appeared. Right now, he’s just an innocent child who’s only beginning to figure out who he truly is as a person. Hopefully, you can help him avoid getting pulled into the darkness and help the boys form a stronger bond that keeps him on the right side. You’ve seen the online discussions of how Peter could have been the parallel for Neville before it all went wrong; in this reality, you were determined to make them exact parallels. You won’t allow Peter to be led astray.

“And lastly, this is Remus Lupin.” Sirius corrects himself to make a full introduction this time and turns you to a brunette with faint scars marring the skin of his neck, jaw and face, his sweet features all bundled up in the cosiest grandpa jumper you’ve ever seen.

“A pleasure, Ma’am,” There’s a shyness in Remus’ smile that makes you want to coo at him but manage to hold yourself back. Taking in his precious appearance makes your determination to help Damocles with the Wolfsbane potion grow all the more. A kind, innocent boy like him didn’t deserve to suffer the consequences of such a terrible ailment, especially one that was forced upon him at such a young age.

Smiling sweetly, you give a small nod, “The pleasure’s all mine, Remus, hello.” You take a moment to meet each of their gazes individually. “It’s wonderful to finally put a name to the face. Sirius has written so much about you in his letters,” The three share a teasing grin as Sirius goes a soft pink beside you.

“Mother!” he hisses under his breath, but you ignore him with a light laugh.

“My~ It feels as though I’m meeting celebrities,” James’ chest visibly puffs up as Remus and Peter tuck in their chins bashfully.

“It’s really nice of you to talk about us, Sirius,” Peter comments softly, his words genuine and his eyes grateful.

“Of course, I would,” Sirius defends, his embarrassment turning into smugness. He sees the perfect opportunity to poke fun at them and jumps at it, “I had no one else to rant about you sorry lot,”

“Excuse you!” James huffs, his hands leaving his hips to reach for Sirius, who ducks behind you with a laugh. Peter, on the other hand, pouts exaggeratedly while Remus shakes his head.

“Goodness,” you giggle to yourself as Sirius looks over your shoulder to make a funny face at James, who returns the gesture, soon being joined by Remus and Peter, all of them now pulling silly faces at each other. Regulus was tempted enough to join in, “You lot are a bunch of goofs.”

Regulus nods in agreement beside you, pretending that he hadn’t just joined in and giggled along, his eyes glittering with the idea that he may make the same fun friendships when he finally gets to go to Hogwarts next year. He’s never seen his brother so energetic and laid back before. If this was the effect Hogwarts had on his disposition, then he couldn’t wait to join in on the fun. Regulus has read about the group’s many pranks during school in Sirius’ letters, and although he was hesitant to indulge his elder brother’s misbehaviour at first, he soon fell into the wondrous magic such a brotherhood fostered. He wanted to be a part of it, too. He wanted to create his own.

“We need to get home. Hurry it up!” your husband demands from a step or two behind you, impatiently carrying Sirius’ owl in its cage.

“Really, Orion…” you huff, slowly standing and shooting the stone-faced, bitter mana scowl, “aren’t you the least bit interested in your eldest son’s close friends?” you ask, willing yourself to restrain the amount of bite in your tone, aware of the suddenly quiet and tense atmosphere between you. Orion has the most horrid habit of disturbing the peace.

“I’m interested in getting out of this cold. Hurry. Up!” he snaps once more before turning around to lead the way home. Sighing, you turn to the marauders and your two sons with an apologetic smile, hoping to ease their tense shoulders and tight expressions. “I’m sorry dears, but my husband’s anxious to get home,” they nod their heads in understanding.

“It’s okay, ma’am,” James offers a smile, helping to ease the tension even more. “I should really go find my own parents, too,”

“Of course, thank you for understanding,” reaching out, you softly begin petting Sirius’ hair as he stood at your side. “Perhaps we can invite you over for a get-together over the holidays? It would be nice to spend some time with each other over some tea and games.” The boys look at each other excitedly, their eyes and smiles wide with anticipation. Sirius and Regulus, however, look up at you in surprise. They didn’t expect this at all, but they should have; you’ve changed so much already. Naturally, you would be more willing to allow them to befriend and spend time with those they made their friends. Your sons’ chests filled with warmth at the thought and they couldn’t keep themselves from smiling widely.

“That’ll be great! Thanks!” James cheers.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” Peter adds, his shyness disappearing into a bright-eyed smile.

Remus nods along happily, “I can’t wait!” You watch fondly as the 11-year-old marauders share a group hug before waving them off.

“Aren’t we going yet, Mother?” Regulus asks, tugging gently on your skirt. Both sons look at you with curious eyes.

“Of course, I just want to make sure your friends get to their parents safely,” your answer makes Sirius smile gratefully, and you all patiently watch and wait. It didn’t take long for James to greet his parents. He points you out, and you wave at him while his parents stare in shock. Their jaws dropped in surprise at the sight of the Black family’s matriarch happily waving at them with an uncharacteristically kind smile. The same happened with Remus when he reunited with his parents, too. Peter’s mother also shared the same astounded look but was unwilling to stay longer than needed and hurries him away.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

“Your friends were very lovely, Siri,” you comment sweetly as you all arrive back at 12 Grimmauld Place, dusting yourselves off as the green flames of the fireplace subsided “I wish we could have stayed longer.”

“It’s alright.” Sirius smiles up at you, appreciative of your open kindness to his friends, the complete opposite of his father’s judging stares. “They had their families to get back to—”

“What Took You So Long?!” Orion’s voice boomed and shook the walls of the living area, instantly riding the light-hearted nature of the atmosphere.

As Sirius and Regulus stiffened up and inched closer to you, you answer Orion calmly, leaning down to help the boys out of their coats, “We made sure Sirius’ friends returned to their families safely before leaving. Is that so wrong?” Orion scoffs, clearly annoyed that he was kept waiting around for you. “We didn’t mind the cold all that much but I know it was getting to be a lot for you, dear, we understand,” your husband flushes red at the cheeks and stomps off to his office with his tail tucked between his legs. It was hard to suppress your victorious smirk.

“I won’t be joining your lunch! Have the food be delivered to me in my office!” Orion’s reverberating voice disappears up the stairs with him. Good riddance.

“As you wish,” you then call for Kreacher to help you put the boys’ clothes away and serve Orion his helping of the lunch you had prepared for Sirius’ return.

“Right away, Mistress,” Kreacher smiles, magicking the coats to their rightful places once Regulus took Sirius’ shrunken luggage out from his pockets and finally turned to Sirius with a warm look, “Kreacher is most happy to have young master Sirius return,”

Sirius smiles back happily, “Thank you, Kreacher. It’s good to be back too,” giving his young master a nod, Kreacher disappears to deliver Orion’s plate while you usher the boys upstairs to unpack. Sirius can see the visible growth in Kreacher’s once anxious and gloomy nature. The house elf looked much happier now and it was a good sight to behold, a welcome change. Gone was the house elf that perpetuated the torment his mother and father inflicted onto him.

“I’m sure you two would want to have some time to catch up, but you don’t have to fully unpack just yet, lunch is waiting.” the three of you step into Sirius’ bedroom together, where you un-shrink his luggage for him.

“Thank you, Mother.” Sirius turns to you only to be pulled into your warm embrace once more.

“Not at all, sweetheart.” You pull away and lovingly caress his features. Starting from the top of his head, your soft touch drifts down to rest against his cheek. “It’s so good to have you back, Sirius. I missed you terribly.” Gently, you press a kiss to his forehead and move to his bedroom doorway. “I’ll be setting up the table downstairs. Try not to take too long, my loves, we don’t want the food getting cold.”

“Of course, Mother, see you downstairs.” Sirius grins, and the brothers watch as you leave the room, eagerly floating down the stairs to meet Kreacher in the kitchen, where you both share the task of prepping the table for everyone to eat. You were quite relieved that Orion wouldn’t be joining you. The recent meals you’ve shared have been rather tense, and it was clear that he was still bitter over Sirius’ unfilial behaviour that was the cause of him being sorted into Gryffindor rather than Slytherin. Honestly, he was more of a child than your two young sons.

The boys don’t spend too long up in Sirius’ room, both pulled to the kitchen and dining area by the delicious smell of food in the air. They also didn’t want to catch up too much by themselves; sharing their conversation with you over the food you had prepared was a far more pleasant idea.

“Everything smells so good!” Regulus expresses as he and Sirius step into the dining area, smiling at the sight of you bustling about the kitchen with Kreacher.

“Why thank you, little love,” Sirius looks to his younger brother at the new term of endearment he’s earned while he was away at school. There was a mix of jealousy and assurance in his eyes. You definitely took good care of Regulus when he was away. “The food I prepared is quite nostalgic, actually,” you giggle to yourself and urge them to step up beside you. As they do, their steps eager and swift, they gasp simultaneously. Sharing a smile for a moment, they look up to you again with glittering eyes, nostalgia swimming in the warmth flooding their chests.

“Hunter’s chicken and fish and chips!” Sirius exclaims, eying the hearty meal he had ordered at the pub when you all went school shopping with him earlier that year.

“That’s right.” You hand him his plate of Hunter’s chicken and urge him to sit at the table with it before handing Regulus his plate of fish and chips to do the same. “I’m saving the shepherd's pie for dinner tonight.” Orion had requested the hunter’s chicken earlier that day, so you would be eating the second portion of fish and chips. “Boys,” you call their attention before they can take up their knives and forks. Their hands stutter mid-air, and they look at you with curious eyes, wondering what you need of them. Hopefully, it was nothing serious. “Kreacher helped prepare this food with me. Can we thank him properly for his efforts, please?”

Smiling brightly, Regulus and Sirius search around for Kreaher, who bashfully pops into existence beside you, “Thank you for helping prepare the food, Kreacher,” Regulus smiles at the shy house elf who couldn’t even meet his eyes.

“Yes, thank you, Kreacher. Everything looks amazing!” Sirius adds, his words sincere and his eyes crinkling at the edges from his appreciative smile.

“Young masters a-are most—” Kreacher looks to you briefly for some assurance before continuing, “most welcome...”

Nodding happily, you also offer your thanks and finally allow Kreacher to disappear elsewhere. He was slowly getting accustomed to the new dynamic between the matriarch and his young masters, but it wasn’t to the point of comfortably eating with you at the dinner table just yet. That habit of his was so stubbornly ingrained, that you doubt it would be an easy habit to vanquish entirely.

“Good job, dears,” you gesture for them to continue with their lunch, but they don’t move. Instead, they turn their full attention to you.

“Thank you for the delicious food too, Mother,” Sirius begins, “I already know this is going to taste amazing! I’m so happy to be home again!” admittedly his words and toothy grin make you tear up a bit and you quickly blink the tears away, wanting to keep the day a happy occasion.

“Sirius’ is right, thank you so much, Mother. I’m going to savour every last bite!” Regulus adds, pushing you all the more into breaking apart before them.

“You two stop teasing your Mother and eat your food already!” They laugh at your playful huff and finally dig into their lovingly prepared meals. The time was spent thoroughly enjoying the delicious, nostalgic taste of the food while also questioning Sirius about his time spent at Hogwarts. It was exciting to hear about his months spent away first-hand, as the Marauders era was always relatively vague. Yours and Regulus’ attentions were fully captivated by Sirius’ fun retelling of lessons and things he’s learned. You were beginning to get suspicious however; not a single prank against the other students was mentioned, but you were confident in his mischievous antics. He could keep it away from you in his letters home, but you were hopeful that he’d be willing to share the details in person. It was a little disappointing as that was something you were very excited to hear about. Although you were willing to let it go. You’re happy as is to hear whatever Sirius was willing to share. That was more than enough for you.

“My, my, it sounds like you’ve had a wonderful time,” you comment, smiling as Sirius affirms with an enthusiastic nod. “You’ve got Regulus all riled up and eager to join you at Hogwarts now,” you and Sirius giggle together at the image of his sparkly-eyed younger brother across the table.

“It sounds like so much fun, you can’t blame me,” Regulus expresses, tucking his chin into his chest sweetly and with a sheepish pink hue on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry for teasing, dear, you’re just too adorable.”

“And I can’t wait until you join me too, Reggie!” Sirius explains, “It’ll be even more fun when you get to Hogwarts too; we can hang out all the time!”

“Yeah!”

Smiling at their interaction, you helpfully try to reign in their excitement, “Just make sure to allow your brother to make his own friends too, Sirius,”

“Of course! And when you do, we can form one big group of friends.” Sirius’ excitement is still just as animated and contagious. But you were happy for his response and had no complaints when Regulus appeared to rise up all the more in his seat.

“That’ll be so much fun!”

22nd December 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

Stepping out of their rooms, Sirius and Regulus meet each other in the hallway, grabbing and tugging at their rather stuffy suits. Today was the day of the Yule soiree that was arranged yearly for the sacred 28 families and many other prominently high-class wizarding families. In the memories you glimpse through Walburga’s previous grumblings leading up to the event, however, makes you purse your lips at the thought that, despite the arrangement helpfully trying to make the influential wizarding families mingle with one another, most of the pureblood elitist houses sequester themselves in a luxury room, separate from everyone else. This only perpetuated the divide, and you didn’t want that for your boys. For Orion and appearance’s sake, you’ll follow them into the luxury room but slowly inch you and your boys away and back into the main area.

“You two look like the perfect pair of gentlemen,” you coo but smile apologetically when you notice their awkward stance. “Are you uncomfortable, my loves?”

“Only a little bit,” Regulus confesses politely.

“Try a lot,” Sirius grumbles, always the one who’s more forthcoming with his truths.

“I’m sorry, dears,” leaning forward, you press a soft, loving kiss onto their foreheads, “try to bear with it as best as you can, okay?” Thankfully, the two were willing to cooperate with you and nodded.

“You look beautiful, Mother.” You smile kindly at Regulus’s sweet comment and thank him softly with a kiss to his crown.

“I agree!” Sirius grins and steps up to you, bringing your hand up to his lips, where he kisses your knuckles. “Mother, you’ll be the most beautiful lady at the soiree.” his actions fluster you, but you’re happy to have raised such a gentleman.

“You flatterer,” you hide your bashful expression in Sirius’ curls and press a kiss to his crown in thanks while Regulus giggles from beside you both. The three of you meet Orion in the living room, where you plan on using the Floo network to reach the venue.

“It’s about time,” Orion huffs, adjusting his cuff links before ordering Kreacher to place the dust-repelling spell onto everyone’s clothing so that the debris from the fireplace doesn’t affect your cleanliness. “We can’t be late to the soiree. Stop dawdling!” Orion hurries into the fireplace first and doesn’t wait for anyone else before he’s swallowed up by green flames. You sigh but offer your two sons a patient smile.

“You heard your father; it’s polite to be on time.” You turn to Kreacher as you urge the boys into the fireplace. “We’ll be back soon Kreacher.” With a soft farewell, Kreacher waves you off as you, too, are consumed by green flames.

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 10 : ... →

A/N : Phew~ that was a long one omg! I hope you darlings enjoyed the chapter and are looking forward to the next one! Chapter 10 will have a lot of fluffy, domestic moments that I'm very excited to share with all of you! For now, I hope this chapter was a good read for you!

[jacktheeldergod2]

Tangled in your hair you find a small compass that leads you into a room in a library near your house. Inside you find 12 antiques. Take only one,your options being:

The last bullets that were shot in each major historical war in. Wielding one you can sense the exact level of aggression of everyone within a mile or so

A violin constructed a horse's tail,olive tree wood with the teeth of a bull embedded upon it to form the image of tide. The owner can never die from water,wether drowning,contamination or crushing tides come their way

A naginata with a hollow handle filled with salt crystals. Anything cut by its blade will be cleaned off all diseases,dirt or impurities,even removing cancer from the ill. Don't swing it too hard it's obviously fragile

An old clay statuette of a sexless human with no nipples,ebony spider legs on their back,long braids that flow down to just below their knees made of hunting dog hair. The inscription on the bottom reads "άγγελος μυγοβόρος". Any crime committed by the owner of the statuette will end up unsolved and shrouded in mystery

An adult human skull with a deformity that seems to have bloated its very skull,along with being riddled with bone cancer. Looking through its eyes will allow you to see the entire color spectrum,and will deeply boost all your senses to superhuman levels for the next 7 hours. Works more than once

A woodcutting axe whose blade is made from a black metal,upon its handle the words "δώρο του Ηφαίστου" are carved. When it strikes something with considerable force it'll turn it,or a portion of it as big as a car,into many metals. Whether precious or mundane the metals will be pure and of rather high quality. Striking a being with it will turn it into a metallic zombie made out of mostly the black metal. These zombies seek fruit constantly and don't have any goals beside that

A 1 foot tall barrel. It refills each dusk. Inside it is an effervescent purple juice. Anyone who drinks it will fall asleep for 1 year. However time will not pass while they sleep,and they'll awake fully healed of any wounds,healthier than they ever were. Using it will also stop disabilities for the next month before they slowly return

A small tea packet of crushed melon seeds. Upon drinking a cup you will be able to derive all sustenance from light and water,and never run out of oxygen in your body. Once you reach the age of 77 you'll start growing more and more plant features until you fully become a plant

A set of cutlery made out of dinosaur bone.eating food with it will slowly add to your strength,indefinitely growing stronger until you can output a force 24 times stronger than any human. Physical training improves the strength accordingly,and you can turn off the power to train

A jar with a deformed,sharp tooth the size of a hand inside. By stabbing something with the tooth and placing it back in the jar you can take over the body of the creature stabbed. These new bodies will not rot,age or need sustenance while you aren't using them

An assortment of 7 clay colored penguin statuettes,all a different size. Unscrewing the top half reveals that they each contain a statuette of a duck wearing a suit. Sleeping with them in the room will make them come away and do house chores for you while you sleep,returning to their places when you wake

A pair of display pieces of a sword and a shield,both comedically jagged,edgy and over the top looking. No crimes will be done in your home while these are inside unless you want them to happen

@1969chevycamaro @whereserpentswalk @everythingismadeofchaos @sirviscount @techiekittie @trashsouppossum @your-average-toast-enjoyer @ononpetitecroissant @polkadotsunshine @ana-isnt-dead @sentient-marshmallow-woman @drunkensynodoffoolsandjesters @dackychansworldofhoshino @doyoudreamofwater @dh-ng @decoysender @foxundermoon @frozen-antifreeze @gloriousvermin @kinkshame-puncher-666 @lukiyu @leavesswaytoday @victusinveritas @mmmmmmky @mun-urufu @moonsfavoritedaughter

[takemetodragonstone]

nuclear fusion can also be a metaphor for “star-crossed” lovers. if you think about it.

two protons, repelled by each other’s electrical barriers, can only ever touch under conditions of extreme heat (I’m talking 15 million degrees Celsius i.e. inside the Sun’s core) which cause them to accelerate to speeds enormous enough to overcome that repelling force which grows exponentially as the distance between the protons decreases, and only then, if they manage to get close enough, will quantum mechanics kick in and allow the protons to tunnel through each other’s repulsive electrical barriers as if by magic, and finally unite.

[gifti3]

Im interested in a Demisexual MC and Asmo dynamic

I think asmos wanting to be loved for his personality instead of just his looks and body

And then mc not being able to be sexually attracted to someone without an emotional connection

It would be a very lovely match imo

[hearts-hunger]

almost blacked out thinking about how reciprocated romantic love is a thing that people experience in real life what the fuck

[qangelbluebird]

Going from dead/non-updating media to technically-updating-but-games-take-years-to-make media to qsmp is wild. From nothing to “the link is still missing where is missing link<-(it’s been a year)” to “do you remember,,,, QSMP,,,, it’s been decades<-(it has been five days. It is coming back in another five days. You people are fascinating(pos))”

[simonbrain]

love the idea of reader just trying to fuck all her stress out with a random at the bar before returning back to her mundane life, and simon deciding he's going to keep her instead 🙂‍↕️

the prick doesn't budge when you try to kick him out; instead, he drags you back into bed and works his mouth to loosen you up again, and now you've forgotten why you were trying to haul his ass out of your home.

(you attempted to sound stern while telling him to get out of your house, but he merely chuckled, the sound so raspy and condescending that it stroked a heat within you that you thought was sated last night.

"this is our home. now get your arse back in bed, i'm fuckin' hungry.")

you had to really fist at his hair to pull him off of you, and that only turned him on if the deep groan rumbling out of him was anything to go by—you swear his tongue sunk deeper inside you. he only relented so he could fuck you dumb in the shower after, leaving you with trembling legs and feeling more dirty than clean (atta girl, don't you waste any of tha'—keep it all in).

you blink, and now suddenly you're seated as he spoon-feeds you a nice, hearty breakfast, huffing something like messy girl when toast crumbs get all over your face and the wooden table.

words can't express how flustered you are; you're too stunned to even continue telling the big man who's now feeding you scrambled eggs that he needs to leave. all you feel like you're capable of doing is opening your mouth to accept another spoonful, ignoring the ache you feel between your thighs when you catch his heavy stare and hear a low hum of approval.

then he's leaving (and it's not because of your nagging), muttering something about having to work those mutts to the bone today, all while you're trying to make sense of what's happening. he gives you a sloppy kiss to silence your questions and exasperation, one that makes you feel hot all over and almost melt into a puddle had it not been for the firm grip he had on your ass.

he licks his lips when he pulls back, eyes darting to where your shirt just barely covers where he'd rather be all day than having to go and train recruits. he stares for an uncomfortably long time and before you can speak up, face growing a little hot from the tension, he's turning around to finally leave.

before the door shuts, he says, "be a good girl, ay? see you tonight, birdie."

you're left with your thoughts and feelings of dread and anxiety. there definitely isn't any underlying interest or anything; the freak has fucked your brain out of your head, that's all. you're sure he didn't even mean it anyway. maybe. hopefully.

a drop of his come rolls down your thigh, and arousal shame burns through you. since when did you let one-night stands finish in you?

(your so-called one-night stand came home hungry and pissed, so worked up that he dragged you over to the nearest surface and played with you for a good hour. by the time you had half the mind to tell him about the dinner in the oven—your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at how much money he had sent you for groceries earlier, nevermind how he got ahold of your account details—he grunted and finally gave your poor pussy a break, scarred mug all slick and flushed.)

good luck when he takes you to meet his mates at the bar a week later, the same bar you brought him home from; the comments from them make you wish a hole in the ground would just swallow you right up.

"pretty thing ye caught, lt," johnny grins, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. he's a bit over the top, ogles your chest too hard, but overall he's... alright. you'd probably notice how perverted he really was if you actually looked at him longer than a few fleeting glances, but his stare is kind of unnerving.

kyle—perfection personified—hums in agreement, a warm smile on his face that puts you at ease. somehow you don't pick up on the ulterior motive behind his gaze running over your body, eyes roaming over your chest more discreetly than johnny but just as appreciative. "pretty indeed. you don't mind sharing, do you ghost?" kyle teases, pretty eyes glancing over at simon, who only huffs at that and shakes his head (much to your confusion).

who the fuck is ghost? you only know big guy and simon.

there's a deep chuckle and your focus flits over to the man seated in front of you, captain john price. if you thought simon was scary, john's a man who demands respect and attention just by being in his presence. "you chose the wrong dog to bring home," john hums, voice deep and gravelly and making you shamefully squeeze your thighs together.

"but that's alright, sweetheart. you have three others now, yeah?" the purr that comes out of his mouth is sinful, and when you nod and stammer out a yes, sir as if you were one of his soldiers and not the sweet girl that simon has brought to his captain, looking for approval of his newest toy, he only smiles.

simon's hand squeezes your thigh underneath the table, trailing upwards, and you're slowly understanding what it is that you've gotten yourself into.

[futurewdclandonorris]

you look good on camera, baby, let's go make a film | Lando Norris⁴

“Can you leave your camera alone for five minutes? You play with that thing too much lately.” "Would you rather I play with you instead?"

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Warnings: smut

Word count: 9356

Songs that really inspired me: Under The Influence, I Luv This Shit (Remix), Or Nah, Zayn - Sweat

With your feet in Lando's lap, you were laying on his couch watching television, his hand mindlessly massaging your foot. The sun was beginning to set, washing the living room in a golden light, the tv buzzing in the background and your occasional laughter interrupting the silence.

Lando’s touch was soothing, his fingers expertly finding all the right pressure points on your foot, but you didn’t mind that at all. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to spend lazy evenings like this at each other’s place, comfortable in each other's presence without the need for constant conversation.

“Are you seeing this?” you giggled, not tearing your eyes from the screen. Lando didn’t react.

That wasn’t the first time that evening that you said something and he completely ignored you. You shifted slightly, feeling a nudge of irritation prickling at your skin. Lando’s continued silence started grating on your nerves, the one-sided conversation gnawing at the edges of your patience.

“Are you even listening to me?” you nudged him with your foot, turning to face him.

“Hmm?” he hummed, giving your ankle a gentle squeeze and raising his eyebrows in your direction to let you know that he registered you this time.

You scoffed, seeing what was occupying his attention. “Can you leave your camera alone for five minutes? It’s like your third eye, I swear.”

Lando chuckled, but kept scrolling through the pictures. “Sorry. Just reviewing what we took today.”

Rolling your eyes, you propped yourself on your elbows. “You play with that thing too much lately.”

“Would you rather I play with you instead?” he raised his eyes, mischievous gleam in them, and smirked.

His fingers traveled up your calf, a heat rushing through you at his suggestive tone and touch causing a familiar swirl of butterflies in your belly. You cleared your throat and sat up properly, moving his hand away.

“Show me what you captured today,” you said, trying to steer the conversation back to normalcy. You knew that lingering in those moments would only complicate an already delicate dance happening between the two of you.

Lando's smirk widened at your reaction, his eyes shining with amusement, but leaned closer so you could see the screen better. The photographs flashed across the display – picturesque landscapes, candid shots of people in the streets, and close-ups of intricate details that caught Lando’s keen eye. You felt a sense of awe at the way he could turn the mundane into something breathtaking through his lens.

In one particular photo, a vibrant sunset painted the sky in an array of pinks and oranges, casting a warm glow over a quiet beach. The colors were so vivid, it felt like you could almost hear the waves crashing and feel the salty breeze on your skin.

Lost in the beauty of the photographs, you almost didn't notice Lando's hand inching back toward your leg, his touch light and teasing. You shot him a playful look, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite the flutter of excitement building in your chest.

"Just focus on the pictures, Lando," you said with a laugh, swatting his hand away playfully. But he only grinned, his gaze flicking between the screen and you, a silent challenge in his eyes.

The next photo caught you both by surprise. More you than him. It was an explicit photo of Lando, wearing nothing but a mischievous smile, his eyes daring and playful. You gasped, turning away in shock at the unexpected image. Lando let out a hearty laugh at your reaction, clearly finding amusement in your flustered state.

“Oh, come on, y/n, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” he teased, waggling his eyebrows suggestively as he looked at you expectantly.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and confusion, unsure of how to respond to the intimate photograph that had appeared out of nowhere.

“Well, yeah, but that was… private,” you managed to choke out, looking anywhere except at him or the screen.

Lando's laughter filled the room, a deep rumble that made your heart race even faster. He shifted closer, his hand resting on your knee as he tried to catch your gaze.

"Don't be shy, y/n. I’m sure you have taken a few risqué photos yourself,” he whispered, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Want to see them?” you side eyed him.

“I mean, if you’re offering—”

“I was joking, you muppet!” you turned to smack him across the chest, but Lando caught your hand before it made contact. His fingers intertwined with yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that sent a jolt of electricity through you, the playful banter fading into something more charged and raw between you.

“Maybe I do have some photos,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But they're not for everyone to see.”

“What about a sex tape? Would you ever consider making one of those?” he asked, his voice low and eyes darkening. “I mean, since we're on the subject…” he cleared his throat.

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications. Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to process his words, the boundary between friendship and something more blurring with each passing second.

Lando's gaze bore into yours, searching for any hint of your true feelings. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand in a silent caress, his touch igniting a fire in your veins. You could feel the pull of attraction drawing you closer to him, tempting you to cross that line.

But as much as you wanted to explore this newfound tension, you pulled your hand out of his grasp. “I’m not sure, I don’t think I would want that.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and a bit of disappointment. “Why not? It wouldn’t be the first time we explored our boundaries.”

You paused, biting your lip as you considered his words. The thought of sharing something so intimate with him was both thrilling and terrifying. “I just don’t think I would look good, you know…”

“Are you kidding? You know you are the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the sincerity in his gaze stirring emotions you had long tried to suppress. The air crackled with anticipation, the weight of unspoken desires hanging between you like a heavy fog.

“I’ve taken pictures of you countless times and in each you look like a work of art,” he continued, his voice gentle caress that seeped into every pore.

“Yeah, but that was different… We were having fun… It wasn’t meant to be serious…”

“Why can’t it be serious?” Lando’s voice was soft, his eyes locked on yours with a vulnerability you had never seen before. The air in the room felt charged with emotions as he reached out to cup your cheek gently. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, awakening a longing you had buried deep within your heart.

You searched his eyes for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but all you found was unwavering sincerity and a hint of nervousness. In that moment, you realized that perhaps the unstated tension between you was mutual, a silent dance that had been playing out beneath the surface for longer than you had dared to admit.

“I… I never thought about it that way,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering close at the intimacy.

Lando’s thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch sending sparks through you as he drew closer, his gaze flicking back and forth between your eyes and lips. The room seemed to shrink around the two of you, the world outside fading into insignificance as you were lost in each other's gaze. You felt your resistance fading with each pass, as if their attraction was slowly but surely pulling you under.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “You know, y/n, I’ve always imagined watching you in a moment like this,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, “capturing your beauty on film in a way that only I can see.”

You shivered as his breath ghosted over your skin, the intensity of the moment leaving you reeling. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Lando’s eyes locked with yours, his tone growing more earnest. “Taking pictures of you, ones that only I get to see, ones that no one else gets to touch or look at without your permission.”

You gulped, your heart pounding with equal parts fear and excitement. This was a line you had never dared to cross before, and yet, Lando's words had a way of making anything seem possible.

Lando smiled softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Pictures that capture the essence of you, the real you," he said quietly. "The sides of you that you show only to me."

You bit your lip, feeling a flutter in your chest. This was an intimate proposition, one that made you feel both vulnerable and empowered. "And what would be the point of that?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

Lando's gaze held yours, his expression serious yet filled with desire. "The point would be to immortalize you, to capture the essence of who you are in a way that words can never fully express. I want to show you how beautiful you are through my eyes, how every smile, every glance, every moment we share is a masterpiece waiting to be unveiled. And I want a collection of memories that belong only to me, ones that I can look back on and remember the moments that you shared with me."

Your heart raced as you considered his proposal. The idea of Lando capturing your nature in a way that only he could see was both enticing and terrifying. But the thought of being the sole muse for his art, the one person he would hold close in his heart, was a powerful draw.

"I'm not sure I can do that," you replied hesitantly, "but I can try."

Lando's eyes lit up with exhilaration, his smile growing wider. "We'll start with the simplest things, the little quirks that make you unique. Then we'll move on to more intimate moments. I promise to never push you too far or make you uncomfortable. We'll do this together."

You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was a new adventure and you were unsure of what lay ahead. But you were ready to take that leap with Lando by your side.

"Alright, deal," you said with a shy smile. "But promise me that you won't share these photos with anyone. They're for your eyes only."

Lando's eyes softened, his expression turning sincere. "I promise, y/n. We'll do this together, at your pace, and I'll make sure to always respect your boundaries."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest. This was a bold move, but you trusted Lando. You knew that he would never do anything to hurt you.

"Alright," you said, feeling a sense of determination. "Let's do this."

Lando leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. It was soft and sweet, his lips like clouds. The world around you faded away as you melted into him, leaving only the two of you wrapped up in each other’s arms, lost in a moment that felt like it would never end.

Lando pulled back and his eyes locked with yours. His fingers curled around the hem of your shirt and with a silent permission he pulled it over your head, revealing the vulnerable beauty beneath. Your skin tingled as his gaze traced every inch of you, his camera forgotten as he captured each moment with his eyes. The room seemed to hum with a quiet intensity as he leaned in to press kisses along your collarbone, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume everything in its path.

You felt the weight of his wishes pressing against you, a silent plea for more as he whispered words of adoration against your skin. Your doubts and fears melted away in the heat of the moment, leaving only raw passion and longing behind.

As Lando's hands roamed over your body, every touch electric and searing, you realized that this was where you were meant to be. In his arms, exposed and vulnerable yet safe and cherished in a way you had never known before.

The room was filled with the sound of the camera shutter, immortalizing the intimate moments between you, and you surrendered yourself completely to the unknown, knowing Lando is there to guide you. You felt naked under his gaze, as if his lens had stripped away every layer of your clothing and left you uncovered to his unbridled desire. 

Your breath caught in your throat as Lando's hand grazed your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The light from the camera flickered across your face, casting shadows and highlighting the contours of your features. It was surreal, to feel like you were being transformed into a work of art, a masterpiece crafted with love and longing.

He kissed your chest and you reached for his shirt, unfurling the fabric to reveal the body that had been hiding beneath. Lando's muscles rippled as he stretched, hinting at a strength that belied his gentle demeanor. The sight stole your breath, your heart beating faster with each passing moment.

The air grew thick with anticipation, the scent of his skin mingling with the heady emotions that filled the room. You felt yourself being pulled into a world where art and desire intertwined, and knew that the line between reality and fantasy had blurred.

With a deep breath, you met Lando's eyes, trusting him as you had never trusted anyone before. He smiled softly, his gaze filled with warmth and understanding. He held a side of your face, kissing your lips gently, his touch feather-light and tender. You felt a wave of affection wash over you, and you knew that this moment was more than just a passing fancy. This was for real, and you were ready to embrace it.

"I'm ready," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, your eyes locked with his as you gave him permission to continue.

Lando's lips found their way to your neck, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of your collarbone, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. You felt a shiver of desire course through your body, and you knew that this was what you had been waiting for.

"You're mine, you know that?" he murmured, his voice low and throaty, his breath hot against your skin. "You're my muse, my inspiration…”

He guided you to lay on the couch as he spoke, your bare skin glistening in the soft light that filtered through the curtains. Lando's eyes never left your face as he positioned you, adjusting the pillows behind your back to make you comfortable.

He moved to the other side of the room, the camera in his hands. You could see the longing in his eyes, the want to capture every inch of you in his lens. He looked at you again, his gaze lingering on your lips, your eyes, the curve of your neck.

Taking a deep breath, he began to capture you. The first shot was of your face, your eyes wide with anticipation, your lips parted in a gentle smile. The second was of your neck, the delicate arc of your throat revealed, your skin glowing in the orange light. The third was of your chest, your breasts rising and falling with each breath, your skin flushed with craving.

“Perfect,” he whispered and lowered the camera.

He was on top of you now, straddling you, but careful not to put all his weight on you. He used his body to block out the rest of the world, leaving only the two of you in this intimate moment. He leaned down, kissing your lips softly, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip, coaxing it open. You opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to enter, exploring the depths of yours, tasting you. His hands were on your waist, his fingers tracing the curves of your hips, your waist, your sides, discovering your body, learning its contours.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in between kisses, his voice breathless.

His eyes lingered on you in a way that made you feel exposed, yet safe. He dipped his head and bit the spot where your neck and shoulder connected. You gasped, a mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. Lando's lips were warm against your skin, his breath sending tremors through your body.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he murmured against your shoulder, taking off the strap of your bra. "You have no idea how much..."

He trailed off, his words stolen by the kiss he pressed against your lips. His hand slid up your side, his fingertips brushing the edge of your bra. You could feel your nipples hardening under the fabric, aching for his touch.

"Lando..." you called, your voice barely audible.

Lando's hand moved to your throat, his fingers gently caressing your skin as he looked up at you. "I want to see you," he said softly, "let me see you."

You nodded, unable to speak as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He continued to bite and kiss the sensitive skin of your neck as he reached behind your back to unclasp your bra. You could feel the need building in him, the need to possess you, to claim you as his own.

Lando's fingers finally released the clasp, and your bra slipped off, leaving you exposed to his gaze. His eyes widened at the sight of your breasts, the hardened nipples standing at attention, begging for his. You could see the want in his eyes, the hunger to devour every inch of you.

He reached for his camera on the table and straightened on his knees above you. He adjusted the focus, making sure to catch every detail of your skin's smoothness, your aroused nipples, and the flush of aspiration on your cheeks.

With the camera in one hand and his free hand on your chest, he leaned in to take a close-up of your nipples, his lips brushing against your skin as he did so. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine.

As the camera shutter clicked, he moved his hand down your body, trailing his fingers over your stomach, your hips, and down to your thighs. He spread your legs slightly, giving himself a better view of you, a better angle for his camera. He took another photograph, capturing your legs spread, your hips slightly arched, inviting him in.

Then he handed the camera to you. You took it hesitantly, unsure what to do with it. Lando smiled reassuringly at you and placed his hand over yours, guiding your fingers to the shutter button.

“Would you film while I suck on your tits?”

His words made you shiver, making you both nervous and excited. You nodded, taking a deep breath and pressing the button, starting to film the moment you had been waiting for.

His hands traced the valley of your breasts, his fingers lightly brushing over your nipples, sending shivers of pleasure racing across your skin. You arched into his touch, your hips rising to meet his, your body crying out for more.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin, and caught one nipple in his mouth. You moaned softly, your hips bucking forward as he sucked and licked, your body arching towards him. His other hand slid down your body, his fingers tracing your hip, your thigh, your knee.

He alternated between sucking and biting, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud. You felt your body respond, your nipples hardening even more under his attention. You moaned, your hand reaching down to grip his hair, pulling him closer.

As he moved to your other nipple, his teeth grazed your skin, leaving a faint mark. You gasped, the sensation sending waves of pleasure-pain coursing through you, your core clenching in response.

His hands moved to your waist, his fingers gently digging into your skin, gripping you tightly. You could feel his passion, his need for you, the way he wanted to devour you in every way possible.

"Do you like that?" he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

You moaned softly, your hips bucking forward, your body begging for more. "Yes," you breathed out.

Lando smiled, his eyes gleaming with hunger. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he groaned, his tongue darting out to lick some more.

You moaned quietly, your body quivering with each touch, each lick, each suck, each bite. He moved lower, his hands sliding down your body, his lips tracing the line of your stomach, your hips, your thighs. You could feel his breath against your skin, the anticipation building with each move.

He sat back on his knees, hands hooking on the waistband of your shorts and sliding them down your legs. He raised your left leg up and rested it on his shoulder, kissing the inside of your ankle and making his way up. Your skin was soft and warm under his touch, his lips trailing up your ankle, your calf, your knee.

You were nervous but also aroused by his touch, feeling your yearning building with each kiss and caress, each soft word whispered in your ear. You could feel his arousal, the hardness of his erection pressing against your thigh, and it sent a jolt of excitement through your body.

He gently kissed your inner thigh, his tongue dipping into the soft flesh, causing you to gasp. He pulled back once more, doing the same to your other leg. His attention was now solely on you, and the expectation was almost unbearable. You could hardly breathe as he continued to kiss and caress your legs, building the tension between you. Finally, he reached the apex of your desire, the junction where your legs met, and he dipped his head to his prize.

"Open up for me," he said softly, his eyes locked on your now damp panties.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but then you nodded, spreading your legs wider for him. You could feel his breath on your skin, the warmth of his body against yours, and the prediction of what was to come.

His hands gently cupped your hips, guiding his head closer to your arousal. "I want to taste you," he said, almost reverently.

You closed your eyes and shivered, feeling his hot breath against your sensitive skin. He teased you, blowing softly, causing your hips to thrust upward, seeking his touch. He laughed softly and backed away once more.

“Not here. Come,” he said, standing up and extending a hand to help you up.

You took his hand, feeling weak in the chest from the intensity of the moment. You both walked towards the table, the camera still in your hands, documenting every step.

“Lean on the edge,” he instructed, constructing the scene and sank to his knees.

You did as he asked, your hand gripping the edge as he positioned himself between your legs. You could feel his hot breath on your thighs, making you breathe heavily.

"Move your panties to the side," he directed, his voice low and seductive. You obeyed, sliding the damp fabric aside, exposing yourself to him.

Then his tongue darted out, teasing you, licking the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. You moaned softly, your hips bucking forward, seeking more of his touch. He laughed softly, his hands gripping your thighs as he continued to tease you, his tongue tracing patterns on your skin. You felt your need building, the anticipation making you wetter, your juices trickling down the inside of your thighs.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice deep.

You nodded, unable to speak. Your entire body was screaming for his touch, for his lips, for his tongue. He leaned in, his tongue dipping into your folds, swirling around your delicate skin and licking up and down with the skill of an expert. You moaned, your body arching into his face, your hips bucking against his mouth.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned against your skin, his tongue plunging inside you.

You were lost in the moment, your body trembling with need as he tested your boundaries, exploring every inch of you. With your free hand, you reached down to grip his shoulder, pulling him closer, needing him more than ever before. His hands gripped your hips tightly, steadying you.

"You taste so good. So sweet, so wet," you could feel the heat of his breath against your pussy, the soft rustle of his hair against your thighs.

His tongue continued its tour, flicking against your sensitive flesh, his fingers gently caressing your hips. You could feel the tension building within you, the desire for him to take you over the edge.

But Lando was not in a hurry. He wanted to savor every moment, every touch, every taste. He moved his fingers to your clit, gently stroking it with the tip of his finger, causing you to arch into his touch.

“You like that?” he whispered, his voice hot.

“Y-yes,” you moaned back.

“I’m going to make you cum,”

You gasped, one hand gripping his hair, pulling him closer, wanting more, and the other holding the camera, recording every moment.

He moaned, the taste of you driving him wild. He licked and sucked gently, exploring every inch of your folds, his tongue probing deeper, his fingers gently parting you, giving himself better access to your most sensitive spots.

You moaned loudly, your hips bucking forward, your body responding to his touch, your mind lost in the pleasure of his seductive advances. You could feel your arousal building, the tension between your legs growing stronger with each touch, each lick, each suck.

He slid a finger inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit in a slow, steady rhythm. You cried out, your body arching towards him, your hips bucking as he stroked you deeper, his fingers inspecting your inner depths. Your mind was consumed with the sensations, the pleasure building to a crescendo within you.

"Yes, yes, yes," you whimpered, your fingers digging into his hair, urging him on.

He smiled around your wet folds, raising his eyes and locking them with yours and not with the camera lens. He added another finger, stretching you just enough to send you over the edge.

You cried out, your body tensing and shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, your hips bucking wildly, your legs shaking uncontrollably. You felt like you were flying and floating and everything was blurry and burning and perfect.

He continued to lick and suck, milking every last drop of pleasure from you, his fingers moving in sync with his mouth, driving you higher and higher with each stroke.

Your orgasm subsided, leaving you panting and breathless, your body trembling with aftershocks and your hands shaking. He continued to hold you, his hand gently caressing your hip. You could feel the moisture seeping from between your legs, staining his fingers.

He pulled back, his face dripping with your juices, and looked up at you with craving in his eyes. You could see the wild animal in him, the hunger for you, the need to have you. You could hardly believe what had just happened. You had never felt such desire, such want, such pleasure before. You felt alive, you felt wild, and you felt so, so loved.

He stood up and guided your hand to the bulge in his pants, his eyes never leaving yours. He thrust forward, his pulse beating wildly against your palm. You could feel the heat of his erection through the material of his sweatpants, and the pulse between your legs again.

"Are you ready for the next part?" he asked, cupping your face and kissing you deeply.

You nodded, gasping for air as his kisses became more fervent. He helped you to stand, your legs still shaking from the aftermath of your orgasm, but you couldn't deny the excitement coursing through your veins.

“Get on your knees,” he instructed, taking the camera from you.

“No,” you said, making him raise an eyebrow.

Instead, you took him by the shoulders and swapped places with him so that he was now leaning on the edge of the table. Neither of you could take your eyes off each other as you inched closer, his erection straining against the fabric of his sweatpants.

“I want to give you a good time too,” you murmured, kissing the side of his neck, your hand trailing down his chest until you took a palmful of his cock.

His breath hitched, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and head thrown back, eyes closed. You peppered the line of his neck with kisses, dragging your tongue down the curve of his shoulders, before reaching his collarbones. Your fingers teased him, lightly stroking his length and feeling it twitch under your touch.

“Please, baby,” he growled, clutching at the edge of the table and arching his hips towards your hand. “Need you to touch me.”

You couldn’t resist his plea, your hand gripping his erection more firmly, stroking him slowly and watching as his eyes fluttered open, dark and needy. Your other hand traced the outline of his hip, skimming over the waistband of his sweats and glorying in the feel of his hardness beneath your fingers.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he breathed, eyes locked on your fingers as they moved.

You leaned closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “Do you want me to take it off?”

"Uh huh," he nodded, his breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

"Words, Lando. I need you to use words," you were demanding, but gentle.

He gulped before responding, sounding breathless. “Yes, please."

You smirked against his chest and began pathing your way down with kisses. You settled on your knees, your fingers dug into the waistband of his sweats.

"Turn the camera on, you will not want to miss a moment of this,” you told him.

You pulled them down slowly, almost irritatingly so just to tease him some more. The whole time you were keeping eye contact, licking your lips and watching him squirm and take deep breaths.

Next were his boxers. You latched your teeth on the edge of the waistband and slowly, ever so slowly, pulled them down. His cock sprang out, hard and throbbing, the head glistening with pre-cum.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” he muttered, holding the camera with both hands to steady it as he watched you.

You licked your lips again, staring at his erection and the dark, pulsing head. You reached out and wrapped your fingers around it, pumping it slowly, watching as his hips bucked involuntarily.

“Was that good?” you asked, your voice low and sultry.

He groaned, his eyes never leaving your hand. “God, yes.”

"You're so hard for me," you whispered, kissing the head gently as you watched him squirm. And you knew exactly what to do to make him even harder.

You took him in your hand, your palm wrapping around his length, your fingers stroking him from base to tip. You watched as a drop of pre-cum glistened at the tip, and you used your thumb to smear it around, slicking him up. Lando moaned loudly, his head dropping back as you continued to stroke him, your hand matching the rhythm of his breaths. You reached into your mouth and began to lick and flick your tongue over the sensitive underside of his cock, his length twitching in response. 

"Mmm, so sweet," you moaned around his shaft, the taste making your saliva flow. You took him deeper into your mouth, sucking him down until the tip hit the back of your throat. He groaned, his hand grabbing your hair and pulling you closer, driving his cock deeper into your mouth.

You pulled back, your teeth scraping over his sensitive head, earning you another growl from him. You teased him with your tongue, swirling it around the delicate tip while pumping his shaft with your hand. His hips bucked, and hand tightened in your hair.

You moaned around him, feeling the power that this simple act of pleasure held over him. He groaned, thrusting his hips forward as you put him back into your mouth, taking him deep until your nose was pressed against his pubic hair, his hand gripping the back of your head, wanting you even deeper. You pulled back, sucking him off with a pop, the sound echoing in the room. His cock twitched, getting harder, more sensitive with every stroke.

“God, you look so pretty sucking my cock,” he growled, his eyes locked on your face as you continued to stroke him and hollow out his thoughts.

You didn't miss a beat, your hand moving in sync with your mouth as you suckled his length, feeling his cock pulse in your hand. You could feel his desire building, feel him reaching for that point of no return. And you wanted to be there when he crossed that line.

“Look at me, baby, look at the camera with your pretty eyes while my cock’s in your mouth,” he commanded, his voice raw and needy.

You lifted your eyes to meet the camera lens, your gaze unwavering as you continued to suck on his cock, your other hand still pumping him rhythmically. You could feel his thighs trembling, his hips bucking, and his grip on your hair stronger.

“That’s it, take my whole cock,” he growled, his voice a mixture of pleasure and dominance. “Look at you, sucking me off like a pro. Such a good girl.”

You took him in deeper, praise giving you a new surge of confidence, your throat stretching to accommodate his girth, and your eyes watering from the sensation. You could feel the veins throbbing under your lips, and the taste of his precum glistening on your tongue.

“Don’t be shy, lick my balls too,” he said, taking his cock out of your mouth.

You eagerly complied, lowering your head towards his balls, kissing, licking and nibbling gently. He moaned loudly, his hands gripping your hair tighter as you took his balls into your mouth, sucking and releasing, creating a soft slurping sound as you did so.

"Oh fuck, yes," he groaned, his hips rocking back and forth in time with your mouth. "Suck on them harder, baby."

You obliged, taking his balls in your mouth and sucking on them deeply while his cock throbbed above you. You could feel him getting closer, his body stiffening and his breathing quickening.

“Mmm... fuck, you’re so good at this,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “I’m gonna cum soon. Are you ready for it?”

You knew what he needed, so you went back to work, taking his cock into your mouth once more. You sucked and licked, and your hand stroked him vigorously. Your saliva mixed with his precum, making your mouth slick and warm.

“Oh fuck, right there, that’s it, baby,” he panted, his body shuddering. “You’re going to make me cum so hard.”

You increased your pace, your mouth swallowing him down.

“Are you going to cum on my tits?” You asked, raising your eyes from the camera lens to look into his.

He smirked, "No, I want to see you take it down your throat."

You swallowed hard, nodding as you removed your mouth from his cock and backed away slightly. His cock, glistening with a mix of saliva and pre-cum, stood at attention, twitching softly.

You took it in your hand and rubbed the sensitive head between your fingers, watching your spit glisten on the tip. He moaned softly, his hips bucking as you slowly brought it to your lips. You ran your tongue over the tip, savoring the taste of his pre-cum, before taking him into your mouth. You slowly slid down his length, taking him deeper with each swallow.

He let out a low groan, his hand fisting in your hair as you took him further and further. When your nose was pressed against his pubic hair, he let out a strangled cry and thrust his hips forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat. His cum erupted from him, a torrent of hot, salty jets that coated your tongue and filled your throat. You choked back a reflexive gag, your eyes watering with the sensation, but held on, swallowing the thick, ropy liquid until he was spent.

You pulled away, your lips plump and glistening with his cum, and hooked a finger under your chin to wipe away the excess. For a moment, you just looked at him, your eyes locked with his, your chests heaving as you both caught your breaths.

He reached down and wiped away the remaining cum from your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a moment of stillness, a sense of completion and satisfaction in the air.

"Fuck, that was amazing," he panted, his hand still in your hair.

You smiled, your eyes glinting with mischief. "Not done yet," you whispered, reaching up to kiss his lips, the taste of cum still on your tongue.

The two of you shared a long, lingering kiss, sucking on each other’s tongues as passion still simmered between you. His hand moved down to your chest, brushing over your breast, his fingers playing with your nipple.

You broke the kiss, your eyes still locked with his. "Come with me," you purred, a smirk playing on your lips.

You led him to the bed, your movements confident and sultry. He followed you, his eyes never leaving your body, his hunger for you palpable.

“I want to sit on your face, and I want to film it.” you announced, your voice low and seductive. Not even you knew from where this newfound confidence came from, but you let it wash over you, feeling empowered and desirable. And you wanted to explore this side of you further.

He looked at you with a mixture of surprise and excitement, clearly not expecting this sudden turn of events.

"Are you sure?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

"Absolutely," you replied, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I want to see your face when you're pleasuring me.”

“Wow, look at you. I thought you were camera shy, but here you are directing me around,” he teased, a playful smile spreading across his face.

"Get on the bed, on your back," you instructed, taking off your panties, your voice now firm and commanding. He did as you instructed, spreading out on the bed with a cheeky grin on his face.

You climbed onto the bed, straddling him and positioning yourself above his face. Your hips swayed as you watched him watch you, his eyes never leaving your face. You held the camera in front of you, making sure it was centered on his face and capturing every detail of his expression. You could feel his breath against your most intimate parts, a gentle reminder of what was to come.

“Ready, set…”

Instantly his mouth met your cunt, his tongue darting out to tease your clit before delving inside, tasting your sweetness. You moaned softly, your hips bucking in time with his mouth. He sucked and licked, his hands stroking your thighs, his eyes never leaving the lens. It was like a dance, your movements in sync with his, each touch and stroke building the momentum.

The camera captured it all - your gasping, your moaning, and the way your body arched as his tongue dug deeper. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked on your clit and your legs shook, your whole body trembling as pleasure coursed through you. You could feel him growing more confident with every passing second, his tongue moving in a rhythm that drove you wild.

“Harder,” you demanded, your voice strained with lust. “Fuck me with that tongue.”

He complied, his tongue thrusting in and out of you, his lips sucking and pulling right where you needed the most. Each touch sent shivers through your body, the tension building and the release just around the corner.

“I’m so close, baby,” you whispered, your eyes locking with his.

“Don’t stop,” you whimpered, the sensation overwhelming. He didn’t, his tongue flicking and probing, his hand going up your waist, now reaching to cup your breasts, his fingers twirling and pinching your nipples.

You gripped at his hair, giving yourself some more balance as you started grinding on his face. He moaned against your pussy, sending vibrations throughout your body.

“Mm, that’s right, baby. Ride my face.” he muffled, one hand falling to your hip and the other slapping your ass, encouraging you further.

You looked at him, breath catching in your throat at the sight. His green eyes filled with such lust and wildness that you wanted to take a picture and carry it in your wallet if it were any appropriate. And that was just enough to send you overboard.

He held your hips firmly as you spasmed over his face, his mouth continuing to devour you. Your moans turned to screams, and he licked and sucked at your sensitive spots, not letting any drop of pleasure from you go to waste. His hands roamed your body until you finally collapsed on top of him, breathless and drained.

You lay there for a moment, camera dropped on the mattress, your cheeks flushed and heart pounding. You looked down at him, his face glistening with your juices and smiled. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with satisfaction and gave you a smirk. Slowly, you climbed off him and he sat up, and you kissed him, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips, his rough beard stubble scraping against your skin.

“I’m ready. I want you now,” you murmured against his mouth.

He smiled, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Get on your hands and knees then,”

You complied way too eagerly, positioning yourself just as he wanted, ass up in the air and back arched. He crawled behind you, his cock hard and ready again. He slapped your ass, the sting of his hand sending a new wave of drive coursing through you.

“Are you dripping for me?” he leaned to whisper in your ear, his breath making you shudder. You moaned in response, the desire too intense.

“Oh yes, you are,” he said for you, running his fingers through your folds.

He slid his cock into you from behind, filling you up in a single, powerful thrust. Your moan turned to a growl as he began to move, his hand gripping your hips tightly. You could feel his cock hitting your sweet spot with each thrust, and the pleasure was almost too much to bear.

“Harder!” you urged, your body begging for me.

Obliging, his thrust became rougher, your skin slapping against his. He filmed as he pounded you, the camera capturing every movement, every expression on your face as you turned to look at him over your shoulder, every bead of sweat that dripped down your skin. His thrusts grew harder and faster, animalistic in their intensity. Your breath was coming in short, sharp gasps as he hit you deeper, your body quivering.

“Lando, I’m going to cum,” you panted.

He grunted and took a handful of your hair, and yanked you towards him, making you yelp. Throwing the camera away, he wrapped his now free hand around your throat as he continued to drill into you. You could hear his heavy breaths, feel his heart racing against your back. Your mind was on fire, adrenaline coursing through your veins. With another deep and forceful thrust, he suddenly pushed you off his cock. Then, he laid on the bed.

“Get on top of me,” he ordered.

You wasted no time climbing on top of him, your body trembling with satisfaction, but aching for more. You straddled his hips, both of you watching as you lowered yourself on his thick cock. He groaned as you impaled yourself on him, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer to him. The sensation of being filled again was both intense and pleasurable and you couldn’t help but moan as your body began to move in sync with his.

Your hips undulated, your tits bouncing and jiggling with every thrust. You could feel his eyes on you, the camera back in his hands and the hunger and desire never waning. He let you take control, and you began to move faster, your excitement building with each second. Your body was aching for release, but you held on, savoring the moment. You could hear his breath hitching, his body straining to keep up with you.

Your movements became more erratic, your pace quickening as you neared the edge. The thrusts became deep and hard, your ass slapping against his thighs with each impact. You held onto his shoulders for support, the sensation of his hand gripping your flesh only fueling you more. But in all that ecstasy, you lost your balance and collapsed onto his chest, your hips never ceasing to grind on him.

He wrapped his arm around you, holding you close as you shuddered and trembled in his embrace. “Easy, babe,” he whispered, a smirk evident in his voice.

You moaned into his neck and straightened up again. You began slowly rocking your hips back and forth, sitting fully on his cock.

“That’s right, baby, ride me for a bit,” he whispered, running his hand down your spine.

You smirked and leaned down, placing a kiss on his lips before grinding your hips against him in a slow and sensual rhythm. Your breasts jiggled with each movement, and he followed every sway through the lens.

“Look at you. Aren’t you a goddess, huh?” he said, his green eyes never leaving your body as his fingers continued to roam your skin. Your movements became hypnotic, each gentle rock increased the pressure on his cock, making him groan with pleasure.

“A goddess sitting on her throne.” he propped himself up, trailing kisses down your neck, his fingers digging into your hip. You could feel his cock pulsating against your sensitive spots, reminding you of how much more he wanted.

“Time to show me what you got,” he whispered and laid back on the pillows.

You leaned back on your hands, angling yourself perfectly over him, both of you gazing into each other’s eyes. You gave him a full display of your cunt and slowly started going up and down on his cock, his hand pulling you closer each time you descended onto him. You increased your movements, your tits bouncing wildly with each bump. He matched your energy, propping his hips up to meet yours.

You moaned and grunted, your body trembling with each thrust. His eyes were intently focused on your body, capturing every detail for the camera. He reached up and pinched your sensitive nipples, making you cry out in pleasure.

Lowering his hand, he started rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb. Your body buckled under his touch, your moans growing louder and your movements becoming erratic. He could feel your walls pulsating around him and he knew that this wasn’t going to last much longer. Throwing the camera away, he wrapped both of his arms around you, pulling you onto his chest. You fell without resistance and he took control, fucking into you from below.

“I can feel you getting close,” he said, his voice ragged.

“Uh huh,” you gasped, your voice caught in your throat.

“Not yet, baby,” and in one swift motion, he flipped you over onto your back. Your legs fell apart and he thrust into you with a deep groan. He leaned down, kissing you hard, his tongue darting into your mouth, tasting you, consuming you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him deeper, not letting him stop, feeling his cock sliding in and out of you with a slick, wet sound.

His hands wandered over your body, his mouth attached to your breast and fingers teasing your clit. You cried out with every move, your body trembling, your desire reaching its peak. He could feel your juices flowing, slicking his cock, coating your bodies. He thrust into you harder, faster, his eyes locked on yours.

He was dominating you, he was possessing you and you loved every second of it. You loved the way he made you feel, the power he exuded and above all, you loved the pleasure and satisfaction he was giving you.

“Are you going to cum?” he asked, eyes blazing.

“I’m so close, Lan,” you moaned and whined, your whole body tightening as you neared your end.

“Hold it,” he groaned, his hips still pistoning into you with a fierce determination.

“I don’t know how much longer I can—”

“I’m going to give you a countdown,” he growled, his breath becoming ragged and hot against your neck.

“Ten,” he whispered, thrusting deeper into your pulsating pussy. Your breath hitched as you waited with bated breath.

“Nine,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hip and pulling you closer.

“Eight,” he growled, his chest heaving with the effort of holding back his own release. You felt the tension building within you, the lust and desire coursing through your veins, making you moan and buck your hips.

“Seven,” he hissed, his mouth closing over yours in a searing kiss as his hips pressed against you. You groaned into his mouth, your hips bucking temporarily out of control as the sensation of his tongue dueling with yours sent shivers down your spine.

“Six,” he moaned, finding your hips again and slamming into you, his rough moans echoing in your ears as he fought to hold back his own climax. You could feel the tension in his body, the desperation that threatened to consume him.

“Five,” he panted, his eyes locked on yours, his hands gripping your ass and pulling you even closer.

“Four,” he breathed, his hips bucking wildly, his cock slamming into you with a fierce intensity.

“Three,” he growled, his passion and desire coursing through his veins, his body shaking with the need to release.

“Two,” he hissed, the muscles in his arms and legs tensing as he held himself back from cumming.

“Almost there,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

“Not yet,” he groaned, his hips never faltering in their rhythm. “One more.”

“One more,” you agreed, your body trembling, your pussy pulsating around his cock.

“One. Now, baby. Cum around me,” and then, just as you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he began to thrust harder, faster, his eyes locked with yours as he pushed you right to the edge.

You threw your head back, your eyes rolling up in sheer bliss of the orgasm taking over. Your muscles tightened around him, milking for every ounce of pleasure he could give. He grew more aggressive, thrusting into you with abandon, your orgasm triggering his own.

“I’m going to cum,” he grunted, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

You reached for the camera, ready to capture the moment forever, but he got a hold of your wrist and pinned it down.

“Leave it,” he gasped, his eyes glazed over.

“I thought you wanted to record this?” you panted, struggling to keep up with his intense pace.

He shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. His hand slid into yours and interlocked your fingers together. “I want to remember this through my eyes. I want it to stay only in my mind, forever.”

And with that, he pulled out and spilled all over your stomach. You laid there, panting and spent, his cum drying on your skin and you found yourself in awe of the experience that just happened between the two of you. A rush of adrenaline and pleasure coursed through your veins, making you feel alive and invigorated.

Lando laid beside you, his eyes still glazed over from his intense orgasm. He reached down and wiped the cum off of your stomach, then slowly started stroking your thigh. “Was everything okay?”

You gazed into his eyes and traced your fingers along his jawline. “It was incredible, Lando. I’ve never felt so alive.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” His voice was a gentle purr, and he leaned in to nibble on your earlobe. “Maybe next time we’ll try something different. You know, switch it up and keep things interesting.”

“Next time?” you playfully raised your eyebrow. “Who said there’s going to be a next time?”

Lando chuckled, his hand drifting down to your firm ass, squeezing it lightly. "Oh, there will definitely be a next time. You can't resist me, sweetheart."

You smiled coyly, playing along. “In your dreams, Norris.”

He chuckled at your playful banter, his hand still firmly on your ass. “We’ll see about that, babe.” He leaned in closer, his lips brush against your neck, making you shiver. “But for now, I think it’s time for a little aftercare.”

He rolled off of you, his arms still wrapped around your waist. You sat up, your body still pulsating from the intense sex, and looked at him. He was still panting, his eyes locked onto your body, his arousal still prominent. He pulled you into his embrace, his hands gently caressing your back, his breath warm on your neck.

“I can’t believe we did that,” you whispered, still in awe of the intensity of the experience.

“Do you want to review the footage?” Lando asked, breaking the sweet moment.

“Yeah, we could do that,”

He nodded, breaking the embrace and reaching for the camera. He scrolled through the footage, stopping at the part where you were on top of him.

“Look at that,” he said, a proud smile on his face. “You were incredible.”

He kept scrolling, stopping at the part where he took you from behind. He played it back, and you couldn’t help but watch in amazement.

“Who knew you were so kinky?” you teased, laughing at the sight of your own flexibility.

He grinned, still looking at the footage. “I think I knew all along. But it's nice to see you let loose.”

You glanced at the screen, your cheeks flushing a little at the sight of your body, your moans, and the way you surrendered to him. You felt a wave of pride and satisfaction wash over you, knowing that you had given him a performance that you both could remember forever.

“I had a lot of fun,” you admitted, still laughing.

He handed you the camera, and you scrolled through the footage. You stopped at the part where he was on top of you, his eyes locked onto yours, and you felt the rush of adrenaline all over again.

“I never knew I could feel this way,” you whispered, a tear escaping from the corner of your eye. “With you.”

He leaned over, wiping away your tear with his thumb, his eyes filled with tenderness and love.

“You can feel any way you want to,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “As long as it’s with me.”

He pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss, his hands roaming over your body once again, reminding you of the intense pleasure and connection you had just shared. And he was right - you could feel anything you wanted to, as long as it was with him.

[comicaurora]

So uhh. If you feel like talking about it. As someone who lives in the US, how are you being kind to yourself on this upsetting morning <3

Checked in with my loved ones first and foremost.

It's interesting. The vibe I've been getting from my circle is very different from 2016. Much less… dread and horror at a realignment of the understanding of what can and can't happen here, now, in this place and day and age. More "fuck, guys. again? whatever. enjoy your consequences, maybe you'll manage to learn something this time."

Frustration and anger is not the most positive feeling, or even the most fair one to express, but it is a protective one. It hurts a lot less than most alternatives.

And it's quite a shift. It was earthshattering back then. How could this have been allowed to happen? Why couldn't it be stopped? Why couldn't we stop it? Why couldn't I stop it? Why couldn't everyone see what this meant? Why couldn't I make them understand? Did they really not care? What did that mean about humanity as a whole? Were we so thoughtless? How could anyone be trusted?

It seems… much less earthshattering to see it happen twice. Disappointing, sure. Frustrating. But nowhere near as devastating as the first time I saw it unfold. We already knew it could happen. I've already had time to digest the implications. Now I'm just freshly disappointed.

It also feels less indicative of Crushing Truths Of Reality this time. We've seen shit get bad. We've also seen shit get better from here! We know both outcomes are possible, even inevitable. We know hoping for a better future is always worthwhile. This isn't the apocalypse. It's an unremarkably bad turn of events brought on by unremarkably self-centered well-documented human impulses. It's utterly mundane in its unpleasantness. It doesn't need to be dignified with despair.

A democratic election, no matter the outcome or the side we're on, makes us all acutely aware of how outnumbered we are by people whose worldviews and priorities are demonstrably incomprehensible to us. And the first time you get outnumbered, it's a shock. Defeat is haunting. It didn't matter how badly you wanted it; by the very function of democracy, you do not have the power to override greater numbers. (insert electoral college caveat here)

The second time through, I find myself focusing on a different facet that has dramatically reduced the amount of spiralling I'm doing. I don't expect this to work for everyone, but for me specifically, it helped to crystallize a few thoughts:

You don't have the power to control anyone else. You don't. You can't share your worldview and your revelations with them. You can't make them think or understand anything. You can lay it all out for them, but you can't make them listen, and you can't make it click. A mentor can't make their student learn a lesson; that's why teaching is so complicated and hard. An active choice must be made by the person to enable themselves to understand, and they must put the pieces together in their own mind before it makes sense to them, and the pieces must have been presented in a way that makes sense to them in the first place. Lead a horse to water, can't make them drink.

These elections highlight a disconnect in what different groups of people care about; and no matter how clearly you explain yourself or how passionately you perform, caring cannot be forced on someone. Understanding and connection cannot be forced. You cannot make anything or anyone matter to someone. They have to choose to see how it matters in order to internalize it. If they choose not to, that is not your failing. You couldn't have made them do it by just Explaining Better. They are not your responsibility. They make their own choices. You can't reach inside their head and connect the dots for them.

I'm a storyteller. I make stories and put them out into the world. I hope people get something good out of them, but I have no control over what that something is. I want people to be thoughtful and kind and compassionate and hopeful and see themselves reflected in stranges, no matter their differences. I can craft stories that I hope encourage this. But that is the extent of my ability and the extent of my responsibility. I control no-one's actions but my own, and so while I am not having the best day, I am at least content that I am doing what I can, and I am not shattering myself against impossibilities trying to control the things I can't.

Sometimes, people make decisions that I think are really bad. I can't make that not happen. All I can do is try to make decisions that will result in things I think are good. Today, that means checking in on people, and not assigning too much dramatic narrative weight to an ultimately mundane set of unremarkable bad decisions outside of my control. We'll take life as it comes and help each other out when and how we can. Everything else is out of our hands.

[greenglowinspooks]

Honestly I think the fics where Danny’s a Kryptonian have a lot of potential, so here’s me throwing my hat into the ring

Danny was born a human. He was born to two loving (though slightly neglectful) human parents in the painfully mundane state of Illinois.

Then, he died, but he didn’t do it right. He became a Halfa; too alive to be a ghost, but too dead to be human.

Then, through strange, uncontrollable circumstances, that changed as well.

He had been heavily injured, missing a large percentage of body mass, and was at the cusp of either dying fully or just fading from existence.

(Perhaps it was an ordinary fight. Perhaps it was the GiW, or his parents. Perhaps it was a simple accident. That didn’t matter now.)

He fled, phasing through the ground, trying to bury himself as deep as possible.

(Perhaps he didn’t want to be unmasked in death. Perhaps that was already too late, and he just wanted his body be able to rest in peace.)

Unfortunately for him, he was in Metropolis, and ended up in a secret genetics lab below the earth.

Danny detransformed, completely exhausted, falling onto a table covered in different labeled specimen containers. He closed his eyes, and prepared himself for what would happen next.

And… nothing.

Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes.

Danny sat up, brushing off the foul-smelling liquid from the specimen jars, petri dishes, and assorted vials.

He felt…fine.

No, better than fine. He felt normal. Healthy.

He felt like he wasn’t missing most of his internal organs anymore.

Danny looked down at his stomach, and saw that the wounds that were killing him had completely disappeared.

(The blood blossoms, if there had been any, were still there, but they no longer hurt. At most, they itched a little, or maybe just tickled a bit.)

He wanted to question what in the hell had just happened, but he didn’t want to jinx it. He just quietly changed back to Phantom, going invisible and phasing out of wherever he had found himself in, ignoring the loud alarm system that had begun to blare when he broke the samples on that table.

Life mostly went back to normal after that.

If, like Danny, you ignored all the physical changes in a valiant effort to remain in denial that something was horribly wrong.

His skin was tougher, now; he didn’t get scrapes or cuts, even when he accidentally fumbled a knife while trying to cook. His ghost form was stronger, too; he was barely knocked down by his old rogues anymore.

He could fly, even in his human form. Though, admittedly, the flight was much different. It was like using a muscle he hadn’t known existed beforehand. He didn’t just ignore gravity or wind resistance, though he felt more graceful in the air now than he ever did as Phantom.

There were more powers popping up, lasers and cold breath, x-ray vision and super strength. His lungs and heart were larger, and he could handle temperatures much easier. He didn’t have to transform to handle the pressure and cold of space anymore.

His reaction time had improved, becoming much faster than ever before. His senses were much stronger, and he had even seemed to gain a sense of electric fields, like a shark.

The only thing that separated him from a Kryptonian was that he had developed electrokenesis, which he had never seen any of them use on TV.

So, surely, he was fine.

Everything was normal, he hadn’t been transformed by alien DNA in a sketchy lab, he had just had a really weird and specific metagene activation.

—

Clark Kent, Kal-El, was panicking.

It had been around a month and a half since a particularly brutal fight between Intergang and an unknown assailant, and it seemed that Intergang was determined to draw out whoever had scorned them.

Their method of doing this, of course, was trying to level the city.

He and Jon were doing their best to stop them, but with both Kon and Zor-El away on their own business, it was difficult.

And by difficult, he meant almost impossible.

Slowly but surely he was driving them back, but not without massive amounts of damage to the city, especially with only Jon on dedicated rescuing duty.

He was distracted, trying to draw a group away from a heavily occupied building, when a projectile hit him in the back of the head.

The world spun for a moment, and then it went black.

(It was, probably, then, some sort of Kryptonite-metal alloy. Intergang at its finest.)

He woke slowly, forcing his eyes open. He felt like he had been hit by an eighteen wheeler.

Clark jolted up, preparing for the worst.

To his shock, though, the city hadn’t been reduced to rubble while he was out.

Jon seemed to still be working on evacuation, either unaware that he had went down or forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Then, a lightning-quick figure flew into view, and Clark’s mind went blank.

He thought, for a moment, that Kara was back. But, no, that wasn’t right, she was supposed to be off-planet for another week or so.

Besides, this new figure didn’t move like her. They were lankier and more slender, and they flew quicker than any member of his family.

Their powerset was different, too; they focused mainly on using blasts of ice and electricity to drive enemies back, only occasionally using their strength or lasers—ones which came from their hands instead of their eyes.

He had woken up at the tail end of the fight, it seemed. The remaining Intergang members were fleeing from the mysterious metahuman.

They stayed in the sky, motionless, watching them leave.

As if they could sense him staring, they turned.

They were small, still clearly young. Probably around Kon’s age, or maybe even younger.

Instead of the colorful clothing he had inherited from his family, the stranger wore black and white clothes which looked similar to a hazmat suit, their face covered by some sort of gas mask.

Interestingly enough, instead of the S-shape crest that he was so used to seeing, the stranger wore the letter D on his chest.

Kal’s heart sped up.

From up in the sky, he heard the stranger’s heart, on the left instead of the right, speed up in return.

But before he could say a word to them, they sped off, disappearing into the deep blue sky.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi! Can i request for reader x batboys where they’re dating but reader doesn’t know they’re vigilantes. One day they ( as vigilantes) flirt with her then reader tells them that she’s happily taken. Thank you!

I’m only doing dick and Jason cuz my brain doesn’t know what to put for Tim or Damian. And this is probably a boat load of words that make no fucking sense when reading it, so I apologise.

Jason

‘You look lost sweetheart.’ You heard from above you only to see the silhouette of the vigilante red hood.

‘I can assure you I’m not.’ You replied straightforward, wanting nothing more to get home and cuddle up to Jason in your shared bed, after all it had been a long day and you weren’t in the mood to be chatted up by anyone, you were loyal to Jason no matter what.

‘I’m only trying to help.’ Red Hood tells you as he dropped down from the roof and landed safely in front of you before standing up to his full height.

‘I understand that but when you added sweetheart I’m naturally going to assume you’re attempting to hit on me.’ You said with your arms crossed over your chest. ‘I’m more than happily taken by the sweetheart man I’ve ever known.’ You added as a boast because it was more than the truth, and you could spend the entire week talking about how much better Jason was then any other man in existence.

Jason could feel his heart melt when you said that and was half tempted to rip his helmet off to kiss you senselessly, but he decided to be cheeky and milk this for all it’s worth if it meant hearing you speak about him in high praise. ‘Oh yeah? Does he treat you right?’ He asked as he leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, reading himself to hear whatever you had to say.

‘He treats me as though I made the stars in the sky and looks at me like I did too,’ you began smiling as you remembered the fondness in Jason’s eyes whenever you did something mundane, ‘I could just be standing there in a plain shirt and a pair of his boxers, looking like absolute shit but he would still tell me I looked stunning.’ You added as you felt the smile stretch further across your lips.

God you loved that teddy bear of a man so much you didn’t know where to put it most of the time.

You noticed that Red Hood didn’t say anything but that was because beneath the helmet Jason was fighting through urge to hold you in arms and never let you go, smother your face in kisses because of how fucking cute you were being without trying, however he knew that he better get back home before you did if he ever wants to do any of that and so he clears his throat and says. ‘It’s good that he does treat you like that, you deserve it more than you know, I bet he’d be devastated if something were to happen to you, go to war even.’

You furrowed your brows as Red Hoods words before shrugging. ‘I mean…yeah I guess, he’d do anything to get me back. I hear him whispering it when he thinks I’m asleep.’ You add as you felt a sense of familiarity from the vigilante but decided to brush it off when you checked the time on your phone and winced. ‘I should get going and I’m sure you-‘ you went to look over to where you saw the vigilante last, only to be greeted with the sight of nothing. ‘-do too…’ you trailed off before shrugging your shoulders and continuing on your way home.

Unaware of the fact that Jason was still watching you from the rooftops above, knowing damn well that he would indeed go to war for you, his beloved little chipmunk.

Dick

‘What’s someone as pretty as you doing in a place like this? It’s dangerous you know.’ Nightwing practically purred.

‘I’ve walked through here multiple times before and I can tell you it’s safer than most in Gotham.’ You told him, crossing your arms, unamused.

Nightwing raised his hands in defence. ‘Just trying to look out for a cutie like you is all, no need to bite my head off.’ Dick had a feeling that something might happen on your walk home tonight and decided to keep constant tabs on you the entire night as Nightwing. He could tell you were tired and just outright done with everything but he’d rather you be safe on your journey home than not, regardless of how safe your route home was.

‘I’m pretty sure there’s other people you could be saving instead of flirting with me. I’m taken for your information, and happily so by the most prettiest and albeit goofiest man alive.’ You told him with a smile as your mind drifted to imagining Dick sitting in your shared bed with Hayley in his sleepwear, snoring loudly despite trying to stay up for your return.

‘Pretty? How so?’ Nightwing asked as he eagerly leant in forward to hear you. Dick just wanted an excuse to hear you gush about him without knowing that he was right in front of you.

You sighed at the aspect of having to spend even more time with a vigilante that seemingly didn’t take the hint. ‘He’s got a smile that could light up an entire city for future generations, a laugh so pretty and addicting that you’d be more then willing to make yourself look like an idiot just to hear it again, and he’s got a beautiful set of eyes that you could get lost in no matter what because they’re just so…enriched in colour.’ You finished, the image of Dick’s gorgeous eyes embedded into your mind that left you feeling seen and loved.

Dick couldn’t help but smile at your words, not knowing what to expect when he asked you about how pretty he was, now that he had he could feel a burst of warmth within his chest that now encased his entire body. You were too sweet and kind for your own good and Dick just wanted to keep you safe from everything that Gotham represented, whether it was out of his innate selfishness to keep you for himself, to keep a bright light of his own in a twin as dark and depressing as Gotham he wasn’t sure but all he knew was that he wanted to keep you in his life as long as he possibly could.

‘Sounds like you love him very much.’ He says after a brief period of silence.

‘I’m more than anything.’ You replied without hesitation. Your hand reaching into your coat pocket, thumb caressing the cute charm Dick had bought you to add onto your keys, it helped you calm down in certain situations because it meant that no matter how far apart you may seem you still had a piece of Dick close by. ‘Which is why I really want to get home, so I can see him and our darling dog Hayley.’ You add with a smile when the blue staffy came to mind.

Dick remember where Hayley was before he left to watch over you, fast asleep on your side of the bed, which meant that when you came home you’d have to cuddle up to him as it was proven difficult to wake Hayley up when she had made herself comfortable. However if this meant that Dick got the chance to hold you close to his chest, he’d gladly let Hayley sleep on your side of the bed more often, and he did on multiple occasions.

‘Then I best let you go, don’t wanna keep either of them waiting.’ Nightwing said and you couldn’t help but feel ecstatic at the thought of finally getting to go home to your little makeshift family. You didn’t know how much longer you were willing to stand there when you knew Hayley was waiting for you impatiently with a boat load of face licks with your name on it.

‘That’s probably for the best because both of them can tend to get a little whiny when I’m even a second late.’ You laughed to yourself as dick couldn’t help but internally pout at this, he didn’t get whiny when you were late did he? He pushed this thought aside and smiled as he watched you walk away, keeping his eyes on your for a couple seconds longer to make sure you were okay, before realising that he should better beat you home before you find him not there in bed and quickly rushed up to the rooftops and ran like his life depended on it.

He wanted to keep his secret safe for a little while longer before admitting everything to you just yet.

[im-so-normal-iswear]

I got new request for you! Hopfully this one wasn't as crazy as my last one. How does the triple S hedgehog boys react to their lover sleep talks?

Can be first time and how they deal with it over time.

Triple s x reader

Sonic:

Sonic was completely off gaurd the furst time it happened. He was over at your house crashing on your couch for the night. You fell asleep first, as soon as you sat down on the couch you fell asleep, he decided to stay up for a little longer. He flipped through channels on your tv.

He hears mumbles from you and assumed you were trying to tell him something, so he leaned in, only to realize you were dead asleep.

"Wait, are you…talking in your sleep?" he whispers, more to himself, as he raised an eyebrow.

Your mumbles were completely incoherent at first. But after a but sonic slowly started to peice together strings of barely coherent sentences. He tries not to laugh too loudly when you suddenly mutter something about "being too flammable" and "the fridge being haunted." It’s too ridiculous to ignore, and Sonic, being the teasing type, pulls out his phone and records a snippet to show you later.

Your words are incoherent at first, a mix of jumbled sentences and half-formed thoughts.

As time goes on, Sonic starts noticing that your sleep-talking isn’t just random, it sometimes reflects your dreams. If you’ve had a particularly eventful day, your mutterings often reference things you both did together. He thinks it’s adorable how you unconsciously process your adventures, sometimes even calling out his name in your sleep.

One night, you mumble, "Sonic…don’t eat all the popcorn…" while snuggling closer to him. He smirks and responds,"Don’t worry, I saved you some!" even though you’re not awake to hear it.

Over time, Sonic develops a habit of engaging with your sleep talk. If you mumble questions, he answers them. "Where’s the Chaos Emerald?" you mumble once, and he dramatically responds, "Safe in my hands, as always!" He jokes that he’s the best at keeping you entertained even when you’re unconscious.

At some point, he even gets used to your nighttime chatter, finding it comforting in a strange way. It keeps him grounded.

Shadow:

Shadow doesn’t notice the first time it happens. He’s too used to quiet solitude and doesn’t expect you to disrupt the silence of his home while you sleep. The first instance occurs during a rare moment when you’re resting beside him. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, polishing a gun, when he hears a faint, barely audible murmur.

"Shadow…"

His ears perk up, and he freezes mid-polish. He turns to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "What are you saying?" he mutters under his breath.

You respond with something nonsensical about "flying cats" and “Chaos Controling to the grocery store.” Shadow stares at you in utter disbelief. He’s not sure if he should be amused, annoyed, or concerned. "What on earth goes on in that head of yours?" he mutters, shaking his head.

As time passes, Shadow becomes more observant. He starts piecing together patterns in your sleep talk, often correlating them with your moods or daily activities. On nights when you’re stressed, your mutterings turn into fragmented worries about mundane things. On happier days, your sleep talk is lighthearted, sometimes even funny.

He won’t admit it, but he finds it endearing. Hearing you speak his name in your sleep makes him feel... important to you. He’s always struggled with feeling connected to others, but knowing that you’re dreaming about him, even subconsciously, touches him.

However, Shadow is the practical type. If your sleep talk disrupts his rest, he’ll wake you up without hesitation. "You were muttering again," he says bluntly when you groggily open your eyes. Over time, he does grow more patient.

When you have nightmares, though, Shadow is swift to act. The moment he senses distress in your voice, he shakes your shoulder. "Wake up," he says firmly. "You were having a bad dream." He doesn’t say it, but he’ll stay up with you as long as it takes to calm you down.

Eventually, he adjusts to your sleep talking, seeing it as just another "quirk". He tunes it out mostly, but its a reminder your still there with him.

Silver:

Silver discovers your sleep-talking habit on accident. The two of you are camping under the stars, resting after a long day of exploring. You’ve drifted off before him, and he’s lying awake, staring up at the constellations when he hears it, a soft, barely-there mumble.

Curious, Silver sits up and leans closer to you. "What did you say?" he whispers, thinking you might be awake. But your breathing is slow and steady, and your eyes remain closed.

"...Time travel is weird," you murmur, followed by something about pancakes.

Silver quickly covers his mouth to stifle a laugh. He’s always known you were a bit weird at times, but hearing your ramdom mutters and thoughts while you’re asleep is a whole new level of hilarious to him. He spends the rest of the night listening to your random murmers and mutters.

Over time, Silver starts looking forward to your sleep-talking episodes. He’s endlessly curious and often wonders what your dreams are like. Sometimes, your mutterings are so bizarre that he can’t help but write them down, thinking they’d make great conversation starters later.

"You said something about ‘psychic pancakes’ last night," he tells you one morning, grinning. "Do you even remember dreaming about that?"

Silver never grows tired of your sleep talk. To him, it’s just another way you let him into your world, even unconsciously. He treasures every word, no matter how silly or nonsensical.

[ruinlost]

>Realizing today how sometimes farrow has one of those moments where he kinda forgets how strong he is, and then I think about him when he was first activated & when he first lost his memories how careful he was for a while before more confident on handling things -- he’s more thank likey to have broken something more than once cause of this..mostly accidental--mostly

now it when it comes to fighting however that’s a different story depending on the circumstances ,cause he wont hesitate to not hold back sometimes.

[medusaesque]

Kim Kitsuragi and the pale-

Kim has a unique relationship to the pale, I tried dissecting it and making sense of it. Reposting with more thoughts after some good conversations with @binomech.

Warning- it's insanely long.

1. After life, death

One of the first thing you can learn about Kim is that he would hurl himself in death's way to save you. From the very first moment, Kim is related to sacrifice and death, it follows him wherever he goes-

The slaughterhouse.

He lost his parents at two years old. He worked a year in Processing (here's good post about that by @renmorris and @spilledkaleidoscope). He lost his partner, Eyes. People have taken a bullet that was meant for his more than once. His survivor's guilt is insane. He's killed six people. He's afraid of killing recklessly, and has a deeply unhealthy relationship with his gun (made another embarrassingly long post about that).

Kim also hears pale 'ghosts' on the police radio all the time, talks about it like it's normal, and says he doesn't believe in ghosts.

If harry is with Noid during the Moralist dream quest (more on it later), Harry can even wonder if Kim himself is a ghost, prompting this beautiful exchange-

And he's not entirely wrong. When Harry gets shot, after Kim fulfills Espirit's promise and stands in death's way for him, you can ask as you fall into darkness what will happen to you-

It's the living who are ghosts. You can leave them behind and rest. Go into the wild pale yonder, along with everyone else Kim has ever cared about. Or at least you can try to.

When death is at the door, you have two options-

2. After death, life again

Kim might associate himself with death, but Harry associates him with life again and again- Death is darkness, Kim has a light bulb halo. Death is a sunset, Kim is a sunrise. Death is where you are when the game start, it's ready to take you, and then- a clarion call, the sound of a motor carriage, a detective arriving on the scene, and you open your eyes.

Of course Kim is no actual saint, no guardian angel, but it's really telling that even in harry's deification the symbols of Kim's holiness are worldly, almost mundane, the matters of every day life- a celling's fan lightbulb, the engine of a car..

Or the way @binomech said it when discussing Kim's portrait: this is the only thing keeping you from the full brunt of the world in your mind #but truly you are already in the world #and he is just a man #and that's just a car and that's just a ceiling fan

The game is very clear about Harry being a ceaseless agent of the world, but he's not the only one. Harry stands at death's door twice, and Kim is his way back to the world both times.

3. After the world, the pale

So what is Kim's relationship with the pale?

As casual as he might try to appear, Kim is clearly uncomfortable with the pale, afraid of it even. When Harry brings up the pale, he intervenes, genuinely worried for the fragile stability of his mind, trying to protect him-

It's no more terrifying than water or death or that we're stuck behind our eyes for all eternity?? Sounds pretty terrifying Kim...

I think the key is in the moralist vision quest, When Harry attempts to reach the Committee of Responsibility, and he hears the pale crosstalk coming through the radio, when suddenly-

"Pale is a shroud of memories and it doesn't really distinguish to whom those memories belong to. You could hear anything." You could hear anything, but you hear Kim. Soona even says that the odds of us hearing him, out of all the voices in the pale, are astronomically low.

We know the past has not been harmless to Kim, we know it's full of ghosts and cold winters, but that's not the thing that's eating at him-

Kim is afraid of forgetting. He's constantly writing, he thinks through his notebook, always recording, so he wouldn't lose anything. That's why the pale is so terrifying to him.

4. After the pale. the world again

The world is what it is. God is in his heaven. Everything is normal on Earth.

That leads me to the expeditions through the pale-

Volta do Mar is a skill unique to Kim, according to the stats of this pilot jackets, and it's a Physique skill.

It's driving me crazy to think how Kim wanted to be revolutionary pilot as a kid, and is walking around dressed like a pilot as an adult, to give himself the ability to navigate the pale. To return from the sea-

DISTANT ENEMY OF HIMSELF?? kim....

Seeing how Volta do Mar is strengthened by his jackets, and the items' descriptions point out that most of the people who used to wear this jacket are long gone (alongside what they represented) and considering that the only real advance in pale transit is the speed with which an aerostatic craft can pierce it, is seems fitting that returning from the 'sea' requires the kind of armor that ghosts wear- the ghost of who you wanted to be but never could, of a home that was never yours. Glory to them.

@binomech said it best in this conversation we had about Kim's skills: "your traitorous race. your traitorous job. your traitorous parents. your traitorous senses. distant enemy of yourself: seolite, communist, cripple, faggot. and you wear it as armor"

Kim is equipped for Volta do Mar, he armors himself for it every day, for the thing that makes it possible to return sane, and discover a new world-

This is one of the most touching Kim moments in the game to me- putting his hand in the rain, looking up to the sky, mouth open, welcoming the spring rain, even knowing it'll bring death and destruction with it. He is devoted to this world and the role he has to play in it, or at least the role he thinks he has to play-

But we know Kim has a bigger role to play, he's trying to do his part right there, getting Harry to stay-

His connection to Harry can keep him on this world once again- keeping the two of them together. Their real work is down here, him and Harry are Revachol's only hope. If they stick together they might be able to keep her on this earth.

UNITY AMONG THE RANKS IS PARAMOUNT.

I NEED YOU. YOU CAN KEEP ME ON THIS EARTH. BE VIGILANT.

I LOVE YOU.

[wearysparrows]

The D Word

ao3/masterlist

Summary: At Tara's suggestion, you try something different on the phone with Sylus. Things quickly escalate.

CW(18+): daddy kink, phone sex (kind of), masturbation, dirty talk, fem (afab) reader, female terms of endearment are used, cringe pet names, porn with feelings, reader is MC, sylus is not a booktok daddy dom, he's so much more than that to me 3.4k

“Why don’t you just try it? He seems to dote on you so much already. It doesn’t seem like a stretch.”

Tara, your best friend and semi-frequent interloper into your personal relationships, was attempting to convince you to get under Sylus’s skin. “Skye,” as she knew him. Your boyfriend in every sense of the word – except that you had never made it official. Tara was especially privy to this fact – it had become nearly impossible to hide all of the time you spent with Sylus from her, nevermind the constant influx of gifts and attention from him. He had never broached the subject of putting a name on your current relationship, and you had been too nervous to ask for fear of scaring him off, or being rejected. As things stood now, you were soaking up what he was willing to give you – which, to be fair, was quite a bit. 

Tara wasn’t wrong, though. Despite your lack of a label, you had begun to rely on Sylus in a way that differed from anyone else in your life. While your relationship had started on a purely professional level, it had quickly evolved into something much more personal. As it stood now, you even relied on him for assistance with mundane tasks – like helping you build furniture, or heavy lifting that you could definitely do but didn’t want to if there was a big, strong Sylus around instead. He came at your beck and call without much complaint, and often initiated spending time with you on his own accord.

Still, there was one aspect that was missing. Despite your continually growing affection and reliance on him, you and Sylus had never been truly intimate with each other. You had definitely sexted him more than a few times – and he had happily reciprocated. You weren’t an idiot, either. You were certain you had felt him hard against you more times than you could count while settling down to a movie, or while lazing around in bed. This was another thing that he had never broached of his own volition – which made you reluctant to try Tara’s line of encouragement to tease him. You weren’t sure if he was being respectful, just wasn’t that into you, or if it was something else entirely.

“I don’t know, Tara. What if he like, gets grossed out and completely drops me?”

Tara, who was sitting across from you on the couch in your apartment, wrapped up like a burrito with a cup of tea in her hands, raised a quizzical eyebrow in your general direction.

“Are you kidding me? The man looks at you like he’s liable to eat you at any moment. You could probably ask him to take the moon down for you, and he’d find a way.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her turn of phrase. Her encouragement was wearing away at your reservations. If he hated it, maybe he’d just brush it off and pretend it never happened. Best case scenario, you figured. You didn’t even want to consider the worst case scenario. You sighed, relenting to her devious plans for your situationship. She had yet to steer you wrong when you had come to her for advice in the Sylus department.

“Fine, fine. I’ll try it. If it all comes crashing down, I’m blaming you, though.”

Tara grinned, looking extremely pleased with herself. She sipped her tea innocuously, hiding her smile behind the drink as if you hadn’t already seen its evil intent.

“You have to let me know how it goes.”

This was how you had ended up pacing around your house that night, unable to bear executing your plan from the safety of your bed. You had too much nervous energy, even after completing your nighttime routine. It was late – around 11PM. Just around the time you knew that Sylus had finally begun to start his “day.” You had locked and unlocked your phone to send him a text more times than you could count, now. You stared at the irritatingly blank message box under Sylus’s contact. It really wasn’t helpful that the last set of messages between you two was about something incredibly innocuous – something about going to the shooting range to blow off some steam. The friendly nature of the messages did nothing to bolster your confidence on this matter. You made your way to the couch, finally forcing yourself to stop screwing around. You put a blanket over your bare legs, which had taken on a bit of a chill from the night air in the apartment. You opened the message thread between you and Sylus. You took a breath. Your heart thudded around, and threatened to take up residence next to your intestines as you typed out a message.

Me:

Hi. Whatcha doing?

11:03PM

You eyeballed your own text. Innocent enough. You weren’t sure if Sylus would even respond – sometimes the two of you were both so busy that you went days without contact. It wasn’t ideal, but to be expected considering the nature of your lives. You, a Deepspace Hunter, and him, the enigmatic leader of Onychinus. Despite earlier anxieties, you knew now that Sylus would always get back to you eventually. You couldn’t help your surprise, though, when his response came within the same minute of your original message.

Sylus:

In a meeting. grueling. Everything OK?

11:03PM

You stared at his response. This was the one thing that was difficult about texting Sylus – he wasn’t one for casual conversation over text, unless it was about making plans, or very brief. He seemed to be under the assumption that you texting him, especially at night, was because you needed something from him. He technically wasn’t wrong in this case, you mused, though you weren’t sure it was a need he was even willing to fulfill. Or cared to. You worried your lip between your teeth, trying not to doubt yourself now. Tara’s words about Sylus wanting to eat you came back into your mind, and you stifled a laugh in the silence of your empty apartment. You imagined him sitting in on his meeting, bored out of his mind. The image made you want to see him all the more.

Me:

Everything’s fine. Couldn’t sleep and I was just thinking about you

11:04PM

You had to force yourself to hit send, squeezing your eyes shut as you did so. It wasn’t as if you had never told Sylus something like this before (though not enormously often), but your trepidation about your plans was combined with the fact that he was currently in a meeting, and therefore liable to ignore your texts entirely (for good reason). Being rejected in an indirect way was somehow worse than if he had just outright said he wasn’t interested. Despite your reservations, the reply came quickly.

Sylus:

Funny, I was thinking about you too. want to tell me exactly what it is you’ve been thinking about me?

11:04PM

You felt your face heat up into a hot crimson at his response. It wasn’t overt at all – and you couldn’t even be quite sure that he had meant it like that . It was sometimes impossible to tell with Sylus, especially over text. He often said things that could be taken many ways. You were certain that you could be inconveniencing him in whatever extremely-serious-Sylus-business meeting he was engaged with. But it was too late to back out now. Your mind was made up. You took a breath, steadying yourself.

Me:

Was thinking about what we’d do if you were here. It’s pretty cold tonight.

11:04PM

You opened your camera app. The room was somewhat dark, so your form was a bit obscured, but just visible enough in the low light to take a photo. You turned over to lay on your stomach, and kicked your feet leisurely into the air. You were wearing one of Sylus’s big sweaters, which he had loaned out to you in the name of the recently dropping temperatures. Other than that, you had elected only to wear your panties underneath it. You snapped a picture, not including your face. You squinted at it. It showed the slope of your back, and the swell of your ass, just barely peeking out to show your panties from under his sweater. The bare soles of your feet and the backs of your bare legs were visible, too. You quickly righted yourself onto your back, pulling the blanket back over your form. You attached the photo to the message and hit send before you could change your mind. You buried your face in the blanket. You weren’t sure about the logistics of him opening the photo in his meeting – but considering it was Sylus, the leader of Onychinus, Relentless Conqueror ,  you doubted it was that much of a problem. 

There was a space of about two minutes before Sylus’s reply, and you had already begun to worry that you had somehow managed to push it too far this time. Maybe he just wasn’t that into you. But the reply came just as you had begun debating apologizing for overstepping.

Sylus:

Do you think it’s fun to get me all riled up while there’s other men in the room? If I was there, I’d already have two fingers inside of you.

11:06PM

Attached was a photo of Sylus from the waist down. He was seated with his legs open in a relaxed position. You recognized the black slacks he was wearing – some of his favorites. You even recognized his shoes. The carpet you didn’t recognize. Clearly in an establishment belonging to someone else. But none of this was important, because you could clearly see the outline of his erection straining against his pants. And it was big . You knew Sylus was big – of course you did. There was never any doubt. You had felt it before. You tried to imagine what it would feel like to take him all in when he was fully aroused. You were already feeling slick between your thighs. He had casually taken a photo of his hardon during a meeting. He was hard because of you.

Shit.

You had never even gone so far as to feel each other up (short of fleeting touches), but he was already talking about fingering you over text after just one slightly risque photo. You would have to unpack that another time. Right now, there were more pressing matters. You figured now was as good a time as any to try it out – Tara’s idea. Your mouth suddenly felt very dry. You forced your fingers to swipe across the keyboard. Your anxiety and arousal had combined into a feeling like that of nearly being outside of your body as you typed, and you hardly recognized your own words on the screen before you sent them.

Me:

I’d rather have your cock inside me, daddy

11:06PM

You flung your phone to the end of the couch, where it landed with a soft thud . You could hardly send the message, let alone read it back more than once. You put your face in your hands, wondering if you had just screwed up all of the time you had spent cultivating your current relationship – whatever it was – with Sylus. While you had nothing for contempt for him when you had first encountered him, he had slowly wormed his way into your mind until he began to consume your every waking thought. You were always wondering where he was, what he was doing, what he was thinking. If he was thinking about you. If he was wondering about you, too.

There was a lull of time, and Sylus still hadn’t responded. One minute passed, then two, then three, then four. You felt yourself begin to sweat with the anxiety of it, and kicked the blanket from your body once again. Maybe you really had fucked up. You reached for your phone, intending to check the time. As soon as you touched it, it began to ring. You nearly dropped it again in your shock, but managed to right it in your hands. It was Sylus calling. Your palms were slick with sweat.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

 His name and contact photo stared you squarely in the face from your phone screen. You gawked at it while it rang. You had never expected him to call you in response to your teasing – nevermind the fact that he had been in a meeting only minutes prior. Maybe he even intended to admonish you. Your heart had begun to beat erratically. In your anxiety and excitement, you even had begun to feel a bit nauseous. You took a great intake of breath, steadying yourself. You hit the answer button with a shaky thumb.

“Hello?” You answered. Your voice sounded much calmer than you felt. As if you hadn’t just been asking your not-boyfriend to put his dick inside you over text. As if you hadn’t just referred to him as daddy. Your knee bounced up and down involuntarily, your nervous energy having nowhere else to direct itself. It felt like ages before he responded on the other end of the line.

“Tell me what you just told me over text.” 

You felt your ears grow even hotter at his command. His tone was raspy and hushed. He sounded needy . You had never heard his voice like this before. The sound of it only made you feel even more aroused than you already were, combined with his commanding timbre. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought he was trying not to be discovered, somewhere. Had he stepped out of the meeting just to call you for this? You twisted your thighs together, squirming.

The thought of following through with his command flooded you with even more embarrassment than you already felt. Over text was one thing, but over the phone? You had hardly had the guts to send it, let alone say it out loud. Your mouth suddenly felt even more dry. Your tongue flicked out in an attempt to wet your lips, with little success.

“I..”

You attempted to start, but you lost steam. You took a shaky breath. Sylus was quiet on the other end of the line. Clearly waiting for you to continue. It was if you could feel his gaze on you, without even being with you here. If Sylus wanted something, he wouldn’t stop until he got it. You began again.

“I said I…that I’d rather have your cock inside me, daddy.” You couldn’t help but emphasize the last word, just a little. He seemed like he was into it, after all. Your own voice sounded foreign to your ears. 

“Fuck. ” Came the growl of a response. It was rare to hear Sylus curse – and something about you eliciting that response from him was incredibly sexy. You felt your core pulse in response to just one word from him. You heard the sound of metal jingling –  what you thought sounded like him struggling with his belt. 

Did he go to the bathroom or something to get himself off on the phone with you?

You swallowed dryly. Sylus’s voice came to you again. 

“You have no idea what you do to me, princess. My pretty girl. If I was there right now, I’d be fucking you so hard that you’d forget your own name.” 

You heard fabric rustling, and the sound of wet skin on skin. He was definitely jerking off to this. He had referred to you as his . You desperately resisted the urge to get yourself off at the same time – you wanted to enjoy him losing his composure over you, just this once. It was rare for him to lose face in front of you – let alone show you a side of him like this. You pressed your ear against the speaker harder, trying to catch more of his noises. He continued speaking. 

“And you’re wearing my shirt. I just know you’d feel so fucking tight around my cock. I’ve wanted to take you for so long, baby. But I’ve held back. Fuck .”

Your panties were completely soaked, now. You opted to remove them entirely, discarding them thoughtlessly over the edge of the couch, exposing yourself to the cool night air. You thought about Sylus touching himself to the thought of you. To the thought of being inside of you. How he might feel inside of you. Stretching you to your very limits. You suddenly felt very, very empty without him filling you up.

“You can fuck me the next time you come over. I want you to. Really badly.” You blurted, voice barely above a whisper. It sounded incredibly loud to you in the stillness of your apartment. It hadn’t been at all what you intended to say – despite the insanity of the situation, you were worried offering yourself up to him so soon would somehow still put him off of it. But it was what you wanted. You couldn’t help but be honest when he was like this.

“Shi–iit,” He breathed.

“I’m gonna fill you up, sweetheart. And you’re gonna take all of my cum inside, do you understand? You’re going to be so good and take it all for me.” 

You could tell he was already getting close. The wet, lewd sound on the other end of the line had increased its tempo, and he was breathing so hard you swore you could almost feel his hot breath in your ear as if he were already on top of you, inside of you. You clenched around nothing for what felt like the umpteenth time that night. You had no idea you could want someone this much.

“You can cum inside me, daddy. I’ll take it all, okay? As...as many times as you want.” You had begun to feel more confident now, emboldened by Sylus’s response to your words. You didn’t know you could have such a strong effect on him. Despite your nervousness, you began to feel the beginnings of anticipation for when he would actually fuck you.

“Fuck. Fu-uuck . Gonna cum, baby. Holy shit. ” His orgasm was nearly silent except for his words and the intensity of his breath. You wondered if he was always quiet, or if it was just because he was getting off to the sound of your voice in a public place that he shouldn’t be. You squirmed, your own unresolved arousal now leaking onto your thighs. You wiped at it half heartedly. You could hear Sylus panting, trying to collect himself. Righting his pants and belt after cleaning himself off quickly. You listened intently to these sounds. He had cum so quickly to you that you almost couldn’t believe what had just happened.

His voice came to you again, still sounding a bit wrecked.

“If I could, I’d come there right now and take care of you. I’m going to come and see you tomorrow. As soon as I can. Wait for me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at his insistence. He was trying to reassure you, you realized. He wouldn’t just disappear back into his world like nothing had just happened between you. Your heart fluttered in your chest like a bird that longed to go to him from its cage. 

“Okay. I’ll be waiting. Sorry for interrupting your meeting.” Not that you were actually sorry. Still, it was only right to apologize.

Sylus snorted in response.

“You’re much more important than these fools. But I do have to get back to them eventually, unfortunately. I’m sure they’re wondering where I’ve gone. I’ll talk to you as soon as I can.” 

Butterflies flitted about in your stomach. Sylus referring to your importance in his life always made your insides twist up in all different directions. You wanted to be filled up with him in more ways than one.

“Okay. Talk to you soon. Bye, Sylus.” 

“Goodnight, little dove.”

You hung up the line. The air suddenly felt very empty without the sound of Sylus panting in your ear, and the cold began to creep back into your bones. Despite him never having actually been with you physically during the call, he had certainly managed to warm you up. You padded quickly back into your bedroom and buried yourself into the plush blankets of your bed. You thought about getting off – but Sylus’s words came to you.

Wait for me.

You knew that Sylus was a man of his word. He had never fallen back on a promise to you, and you knew tomorrow would be no different. It would be better if you held off. The anticipation made it that much more intense. You elected to finally find your way to sleep, your last thoughts conjuring images of all the ways Sylus would find to bend and fold you over for his own pleasure.

[incognit0slut]

i hope this is how to send a request cuz this is my first time requesting anything. but i wanted to ask if you could do a story of spencer x reader of when he comes back home from prison in season 12? i don't know if i want it to be girlfriend and boyfriend or if they're married i don't really know, sorry. but i don't really mind either way. hope you can write something like this, thank you :))) <333

tysm for trusting me with your first request and sorry this took so long, it's also kind of rushed and I'm not too confident with it but I hope you like it <3

Home is whenever I’m with you

Category: angst, hurt, comfort, gn reader ~1.7k words

He’s back. Your boyfriend is back. There's a tangle of nerves in the pit of your stomach at the mere thought of seeing him again, especially after all that’s happened. You get to hug him, to kiss him, to feel the softness of his thick, beautiful hair under your fingers again.

But not now. His mother is missing. Those are the words Emily spoke to you over the phone after she called to let you know he’s released. It’s ironic, to hear such wonderful news just to be followed by something so disheartening. And the guilt creeps in, that nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, if you had gone to visit his mom as planned, this nightmare could've been avoided.

“Do not blame yourself,” Emily adds, her voice is a lifeline in the chaos of emotions. It's as if she can read your thoughts, know exactly what you're feeling without you saying a word. “Just stay where you are, okay? I've got agents keeping an eye on your building. I'll keep you updated."

You're left with no choice but to accept. Your boyfriend may be back, but you still can’t see him.

And you get it. His mom comes first, always has, and always will. A child's love for their parents is unbreakable, and if you were in his shoes, you'd move heaven and earth to keep your parents safe. So, naturally, you do what any loving and supportive girlfriend would do—you wait.

And wait. And wait. And wait. Each passing second stretches into agonizing minutes, and those minutes drag on into long, uncertain hours. One skipped meal turns into two, and suddenly, you're lying in bed in the dead of night with an empty stomach. You know you should take care of yourself, but your mind is fixated on him.

What is he doing? Has he eaten anything? Is he taking breaks at all? Has he managed to get any sleep? And most importantly, has there been any news about his mom? 

Your mind is racing, flooded with countless unanswered questions. You try to find comfort in sleep, but every ring of your phone feels like a cruel interruption, each time hoping it's him—or at least a word from his friends. But it's always a disappointment, just meaningless notifications and distant messages from your friends about mundane plans.

Eventually, exhaustion overtakes you, but your sleep is restless, it's as if your mind refuses to grant you a moment of respite. Then, in the quiet hours of the night, at two in the morning, you're jolted awake by the familiar sound of a new message on your phone.

His mom is safe.

A sigh of relief escapes you, almost audible in the silence. You type out a response to Emily with trembling hands.

That’s good to hear. Is he fine?

Not great, but he's managing.

That's all you need to hear. His mom is safe, and though he's not doing great, he's managing well enough. With a weight lifted off your shoulders, you finally allow yourself to relax. At least now you can drift back into sleep knowing that he's partially okay.

You wake up again later that night by a rapid knocking. At first, you try to brush it off as just noise from the neighbors, but as you slowly come to your senses, you realize it's coming from your apartment.

Half-worried and half-curious, you reluctantly peel yourself from the comfort of your bed, your mind racing with possibilities as you approach the door. When you glance through the peephole, you're met with a sight that instantly jolts you awake. Without a second thought, you fumble with the lock and swing the door open.

And there your boyfriend stands, but he's a far cry from the man you remember. His hair is wild and unkempt, and his eyes, usually bright and lively, are now dull and tired, shadowed by exhaustion. He's dressed in his usual suit and tie, a combination you've always admired for its professional and polished look. But today, his shirt is half-tucked, half-untucked, and his tie hangs loosely around his neck

“Spence, what are you—”

Before you can finish, he bursts through the door, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

"I'm sorry," he breaks, his voice strained with emotion. "I—I wanted to come here as fast as I can—"

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” You wrap your arms around his waist and take in a deep breath. Despite his disheveled appearance, he smells exactly as you remember—warm, familiar, like home. “It’s all good, honey, I don’t mind.” 

“It’s not alright. I should’ve answered your calls—”

“Spencer, it’s okay,” you interrupt gently, running your fingers soothingly down his back. “After all the time you’ve been away, a few more hours hardly matter.”

“Well, it should matter,” he mumbles against your skin, his voice muffled as he buries himself in the crook of your neck. “I shouldn’t have left you like this.”

You hold him tighter, feeling his weight against you, his breath warm against your skin. “Shh,” you murmur, rubbing his back in comforting circles. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He nods against your neck, his grip on you tightening as if he's afraid to let go.

“How’s your mom?”

He lifts his head slightly, meeting your gaze with tired eyes. “She’s... she’s okay,” he replies. “We found her. She’s safe now.”

You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, relief flooding through you. “I’m glad to hear that,” you say, cupping his cheek gently. “Are you okay?”

He hesitates for a moment as if considering the question carefully. “I’m fine, just… tired.”

Your fingers traced the lines of exhaustion etched on his face. “Let’s get you inside and comfortable, okay?”

He nods, and you usher him inside, relief flooding through you as you close the door behind you. Your fingers naturally intertwine with his as you guide him towards your bedroom.

“Do you want anything? Water, food?”

He shakes his head, falling into step with you. “Maybe later,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. “How have you been?”

"Well," you begin, your voice filled with warmth. "'I've been keeping busy while you're gone.”

You lead him to the edge of the bed, sitting him down while you stand between his legs, your eyes meeting his tired gaze. "Work has been... work," you say with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “And I managed to put up the shelf I bought online. Look.”

You gesture towards the bookshelf nestled in the corner of the room and he follows your gaze. “You did that all by yourself?”

"Yeah, I did," you reply, your smile widening. "It wasn't easy without having you constantly nagging me how to do it, but I figured it out."

He nods, a hint of regret shadowing his features. “I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you.”

You shake your head, moving closer to him and placing a comforting hand on his cheek. "Don’t apologize.”

He leans into your touch, his gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability that tugs at your heartstrings. His eyes, wide and brown, look up at you, and you can’t help but compare him to a puppy—sad, yet undeniably endearing, with an innocence that melts your heart. You brush a thumb gently across his cheek, noting the subtle change in his appearance.

“You grew out your facial hair.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he shifts under your gaze. "Yeah, I guess I did," he replies, his voice tinged with self-consciousness. 

You can't help but smile at his bashfulness. "I like it," you assure him. "It suits you."

“Really?”

“It’s growing on me.”

His expression softens at your words, a warmth spreading through his tired features. "Maybe I'll keep it.” 

You nod in agreement, a smile playing on your lips as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. He sighs contentedly as he leans into your chest, and you gently stroke his hair, soothing him with your touch.

"It's good to be back," he murmurs, his voice muffled against your shirt.

"It's good having you back," you reply softly, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face.

“I thought I was never going to see you again.”

"Why would you think that?”

He hesitates for a moment. "After everything that happened... I wasn't sure if I'd make it back to you.”

You gently tilt his chin up, meeting his gaze. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods, his vulnerability laid bare. "I was also afraid that I might lose you,” he adds. “I was afraid you’d get tired of waiting for me.”

“Oh, honey…”

“Everyone I care for always leaves, sooner or later. And I can’t bear the thought… the thought of not coming home without you in my life,” he admits, his voice trembling with emotion and you feel a lump form in your throat as you listen. "I feel… so different right now. I don’t feel like my usual self, and I-I was afraid you wouldn’t like this version of me.”

You pull back slightly, cupping his face in your hands, your gaze locked with his. "I would never think any less of you.”

He sniffs, and that's when you notice a tear escaping down his cheek. Your heart aches even more. “I might not be the same person you last saw me.”

You shake your head, brushing away his tears with your thumb. "It doesn't matter," you reply earnestly. “You're still the person I fell in love with, and nothing will ever change that.”

He looks at you in disbelief, as if he can't quite comprehend how you could love him so unconditionally. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I see you," you reply. "Beyond the surface, beyond the changes, I see who you are—the kindness, the strength, the love that has always been a part of you. And that's something that remains unchanged, no matter what."

He exhales softly, his features softening as he absorbs your words. But you aren’t finished, not until he realizes how worthy of love he is.

“You’re still the man who loves silly magic tricks, you’re still the man who asks for jello every time we have dessert,” you tease, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He cracks a small smile at your playful words. “You’re still the man who loves books, who loves learning. You're still the man who loves helping other people.”

You lean closer, your breath mingling with his as your lips almost touch.

“And I’ll be the one to love every version of you,” you whisper. “The person you were, the person you are, and the person you're becoming.”

He grips your hips and pulls you closer. Without a word, you understand what he needs, what he's asking for, and you close the distance between you, your lips brushing against his.

You never truly understand the meaning of bittersweet until this very moment. His tears carry the saltiness of sorrow, but his lips offer a sweetness that lingers on your tongue. You feel the weight of his pain, the heaviness of his grief, yet you also sense a comforting warmth in the way his lips move gently against yours.

You can feel his uncertainty, and it’s clear that getting back into his old routine won't be easy after everything he's been through. But you’re here for him and you're willing to support him in any way you can.

Because he’s back. Your boyfriend is back. You can hardly believe you get to hug him, kiss him, and run your fingers through his thick, beautiful hair once more. You can’t believe you get to hold him again in your arms, and you hope to do so for a very long time.