#Jesus calls you to repent

[an-unanonymous-messenger]

The Parable of the Wheat and the Tares is about how God has sown the seed of His Word into many, but that satan also sowed his own seed of rebellion against God, upon which at the end of this world, those who received the seed of satan will be punished with eternal death. Notice how similar wheat and tares look! This also implies that there are many professing to be Christian, but are in fact the children of the devil (John 8:31-59), who were never born again, but only went to church and prayed to tradition.

[jackdawsfavorite]

This morning my dad apologized to me* for yelling at Mom last night, said he should have just excused himself and gone to bed when he had enough, and asked me to forgive him. And, of course I did. Of course. That's all I need.

It makes it harder, in a way. More complicated. But I'm glad. I'll keep with him as long as I'm not the only one putting in effort.

*and to Mom too, I'm sure, I'll ask her at some point but it would be absurd if he didn't

[yeslordmyking]

1 Thessalonians 4:7-8 — Today's Verse for Sunday, April 7, 2024

[sleepy-steve]

@steddieangstyaugust 06/08 // “Who did this?” 

wc: 2.5k // rating: T // cw: homophobic slur, hate crime, blood/wounds // tags: post-s4 but vecna dies, eddie lives, hate crime, satanic panic, wound care

divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics

When Eddie woke up in the hospital after days in a medically induced coma, Steve felt a relief so deep it caught him off guard.

He wasn’t sure why the feeling was so intense. Maybe because it was the closest they’d gotten to actually losing someone. Maybe it was because Steve was the one to bring him back from the edge of death. The speeding drive to the hospital spent in cold fear that Eddie might bleed out in the backseat after Steve had given CPR, pushing hard enough to hear Eddie’s ribs crack before he took in a faint wheeze of a breath and his pulse fluttered weakly beneath his skin. 

Either way, when Eddie finally blinked awake—groggy and fearful—relief washed warm and heavy over Steve, eyes filling with tears as he gripped Eddie’s hand tightly and whispered to him quiet words of welcoming, soft praises of having done so well, gentle reassurances that he was safe now. The fear in Eddie’s eyes slowly faded. He gave a small nod—his movement limited—and with it, placed his trust in Steve.

The trust between them maintained, lingered, grew into something strong with each day spent recovering, each whispered fear and secret shared between them, each lingering hand hold. Whatever it was, it was growing, and alongside it, a fear that it was turning into something Steve wouldn’t be able to stop.

Weeks after his release from the hospital, Eddie greeted him with a story of being chased off by friends of Jason Carver—uninjured, thankfully, but still shaken—and Steve felt the rush of overprotection fill his veins like adrenaline, and realised it might be something a little more than that. But no, Steve felt protective over all of his friends. This was no different. He assured himself that the hot spike of fury and need to protect his friend was normal. His reaction was equal to the danger in which his friend was currently in. The perception of Eddie Munson in Hawkins was still… in poor favour. Despite him being cleared of all charges formally, the town had difficulty letting go of this idea that Eddie was a dangerous individual. These were people that tried to kill Eddie, it only made sense that Steve would feel this way. This was just a normal, close friendship. Until it wasn’t.

Steve’s driving toward the trailer park, warm afternoon air flowing through the open windows, a new mixtape from Eddie blasting from his speakers. Tapping the wheel along with the music, Steve takes the turn down towards the Munson trailer, slowing as he sees something that doesn’t quite fit with the landscape. Bright red. Steve’s heart drops. He turns down the music, slowing his car to a crawl. Once close enough, he parks and throws himself out of the beemer, taking in the awful sight before him.

FREAK. DEVIL WORSHIPPER. FAG. SATANIST. REPENT. All scrawled in blood red paint across the front of the trailer. Alongside the repeated words, symbols—upside down crucifixes, pentagrams, crudely drawn demon-like figures—filling up any available space. Steve feels his throat close up, immediately rushing to the door and trying not to knock too aggressively.

“Eddie? Are you in there?” He calls softly. “It’s Steve. C’mon, man, open up.”

Steve listens intently, until he hears shuffling behind the door, the sound of what could be something shifting across the carpet. Finally, the door cracks open.

“Eddie…” Steve says with relief, but the door doesn’t open further. “Are you okay? Jesus, what happened?”

Steve can only see a sliver of Eddie’s face, one eye wide and shining with fear. “Are—are you alone?” Eddie croaks. Hearing the way Eddie spoke makes his throat tighten.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s just me, man.” Steve keeps his tone as gentle as possible. “Can I come in?”

Eddie only looks at him, seemingly thinking hard, before turning quickly but leaving the door open. Steve steps inside quickly, and the door snaps shut behind him, bolts locking and chain pulled across immediately. Eddie stays facing the door, and Steve sees that his hair is half tied up, and one hand is gripping tightly at his side, fingers digging into his ribs. Despite wanting to ask more questions, Steve keeps quiet, feeling like Eddie might freak out or bolt if he speaks. 

After a minute that feels like an hour, Eddie finally turns.

Steve can’t help the sharp intake of breath, the way his blood turns to ice, the flare of his nostrils in fury at what he sees. Eddie’s left eye—the one hidden by the door before—is black and swollen almost shut. The purpling extends down his cheekbone. A gash at the top of his head is open, blood seemingly hastily wiped away, but still sticky at Eddie’s hairline and down the side of his face. His lower lip is busted near the corner, bright red and swollen, still dripping blood that Eddie unconsciously licks away. With his hair partially pulled back, Steve spots purple and red on Eddie’s throat. He looks to where Eddie still holds tight at his side, and sees how his knuckles too are red and bloodied. 

When he finally looks back up to Eddie’s face, he sees a look of shame. Steve feels a storm brew in his chest. He reaches out, leaving distance just in case. Eddie flinches, instinctively, before stepping forward into Steve’s space. He lets Steve trail his fingers, softer than he would have expected, along his jaw, gently shifting his head around to look at his injuries. Allows Steve to move a lock of hair that didn’t make it into the hairband, carefully avoiding the open wounds. His warm palm settles on the side of Eddie’s face that was—for the most part—uninjured. The gesture so soft, so kind, a tear spills from Eddie’s good eye.

Steve holds steady, keeps his voice low. “Who did this?”

“Steve…” Eddie whispers. “I… I tried—tried to—” He can’t finish the sentence, words catching in his throat, breath speeding up as more tears run down his face, pooling against Steve’s hand.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, soft and reassuring. “I’m here, it’s okay. I got you.”

Eddie shuffles forward, close enough that Steve can feel his short panicked breaths. Steve slowly opens his arms, hesitating, before Eddie lets himself lean against his chest. Lowering his arms with care, Steve places his hands on Eddie’s back like he’s handling glass, feeling the sharp gasp and the tremble in the other man’s body. Eddie sags against him, curled so his face is against Steve’s shoulder. He feels his heart pound with rage at whoever did this. He feels something else as well, a shame in himself for not having been there, for not protecting Eddie. If he’d gotten there earlier, could this have been avoided?

Steve pulls away, despite wanting to do the opposite—wanting to hold Eddie so tight, envelop him in care, to let him know that he’s safe—and looks over him again, taking stock of the wounds. “Can I help?”

Eddie nods, breath still shaky but much calmer, and allows Steve to guide him back to his own kitchen. Steve grabs a chair, motioning for Eddie to sit, and turns to where a first-aid kit is already opened on the counter. Alongside it, a towel with blood on it and a bottle of saline.

“Did you try to clean yourself up?”

“Wouldn’t—” Eddie hisses as he sits. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Steve looks back at him with concern.

“C’mon, man,” Eddie says with a wince. “You know what it was like for me.”

Guilt sits in Steve’s gut. He did know. Watched, more than once, when Eddie would end up surrounded by jocks—outnumbered—and one would deliver resounding punches to his face and stomach. Eddie would only ever spur them on. “Come on! That all you got? Give me another. You know how much I like it.” Words wet with blood, teeth shining with it. Eyes lit up despite the bruises forming around them. He’d get under their skin, letting them leave with disgust.

Steve doesn’t respond, instead turns back to the counter, grabbing a roll of paper towels and the saline. Holding the damp square up, Steve waits, and Eddie gives him another nod. Steve gets to work, wiping away the sticky blood around the head wound. Eddie hisses between his teeth when Steve moves over it, trying his best to be gentle. “Sorry,” Steve whispers.

“S’okay,” Eddie rasps.

The silence settles between them for a while, Eddie’s breathing finally slows to a normal, if slightly shallow, rate. Steve wants to ask again, to know who did this, but waits. Focuses on the job at hand, cleaning the remaining blood away from Eddie’s lip.

With all the blood cleaned up, Steve turns to the freezer and pulls out a bag of peas, wrapping them in a kitchen towel. He hands it to Eddie, who gingerly holds it up to his black eye, sucking in a sharp breath at the contact. The bruising on Eddie’s hands looks bad too, but they’ll have to come back to that. Looking over the first-aid kit, Steve pulls out some antiseptic wipes and adhesive bandages.

“These are gonna sting a bit,” Steve says, ripping open the wipes.

Eddie huffs a laugh. “Least of my concerns.”

Steve gives him a half smile. At least he was joking around a bit. He starts to clean around the head wound, noticing how Eddie’s good eye squeezes shut when the alcohol makes contact, and tries to move quickly. “It’s not too deep, shouldn’t need stitches.”

“How d’you know?” Eddie mutters, still wincing at the sting.

“Had my fair share of head wounds,” Steve says, still focused on the wipe in his hand.

Eddie doesn’t respond, just looks up at him with his uncovered eye. Steve moves down to Eddie’s lower lip, softly swiping at the cut, noticing the blood still in his mouth, the purple bruising that extends down to his jaw.

“Are you gonna tell me?” Steve turns to the counter, grabbing the butterfly stitch bandages. “Who did this to you?”

“Does it matter?” Eddie asks. “What’re you gonna do? Go beat them up, defend my honour?” His voice is heavy with sarcasm.

Steve gives him a quick look, before peeling the bandages off the wrapping. “I might.” 

Letting Steve turn his head slightly, careful not to touch any of the wounds, Eddie keeps his good eye locked on him. Seemingly assessing him. “Just the same bullshit…” His voice is thick, his eye glassy with fresh tears. “They still think I did it. That I killed Chrissy. Nothing is ever gonna change that for them.” Eddie inhales shakily. “If not that, they’ll find some other reason to hate me. Easy target.”

“We’ll find a way,” Steve says. “Even if it means. I dunno. Even if we have to leave.”

Steve holds the cut closed, and begins applying the strips, tongue between his teeth as he concentrates, ensuring they don’t get stuck in Eddie’s hair. Eddie is watching him carefully again. “You’d do that?” Eddie asks, voice soft. “Leave—with me?”

Lowering himself to Eddie’s eyeline, he places a hand on his shoulder. “Isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you, Eddie.”

It’s far more earnest, far more vulnerable, than either of them have been with each other before. Eddie doesn’t say anything, just frowns slightly, like he’s trying to figure something out. They sit in silence as Steve works, only the sounds of their breathing and the unpeeling of more bandages in the room. All of it feels so… intimate, Eddie allowing Steve to take care of him, to clean his wounds and patch him up. They’d been close since Eddie woke up in the hospital, but not like this.

“Alright, that should do it,” Steve says, scrunching the bandage wrapping. He then looks to Eddie’s hands. “Lemme see.”

Eddie holds out his free hand, and Steve takes it in his, turning it as he assesses the damage. He flattens Eddie’s fingers, then softly curls them, handling him like something precious and breakable. “Any pain?” 

Eddie shakes his head in response. Reaching over for a new antiseptic wipe, Steve keeps Eddie’s hand in his, reluctant to let it go. He cleans the small cuts—splits from punching, if Steve’s own experience told him anything. He applies a small band-aid, before motioning for Eddie to swap, taking his other hand away from the bag of peas. Repeating the process, stretching and curling Eddie’s fingers and cleaning the wounds, Steve tries to ignore the intrusive thought that tells him they’re holding hands. Now wasn’t the time for that.

Feeling Eddie’s eyes on him, Steve finally releases his hand. Clears his throat. “Can’t do much about this.” Steve gestures to Eddie’s lip, wishing instead he could let his thumb trail along the side of it. “Any others? You were holding your side before.”

Setting the bag of peas aside, Eddie moves with effort to pull up his shirt. Steve kneels down immediately. Where Eddie’s barely healed scars are still red around his ribs, deep purple bruises paint his chest and waist. Extending a shaking hand, Steve stops himself from touching, instead hovering over the skin. His breath shakes as he tries to remain calm. Whatever was keeping his emotions held back is broken at the sight.

“Eddie…” Steve looks up at him, pain in his eyes.

Dropping his shirt back down, Eddie looks away. “It’s fine. Nothing’s broken.”

“Nothing about this is fine, Eddie,” Steve tries to catch his eye again. “We already almost lost you once. I don’t think I could handle it if…” Still kneeling, Steve cautiously takes both of Eddie’s hands in his. “I can’t lose you,” he says, voice breaking.

Eddie frowns again, this time with something like pain in his expression. “I’m here, Steve. I’m okay. Thanks to you.”

Steve nods, tears welling and ready to spill over. “I just… I wish I could protect you better.”

Eddie leans closer, pain momentarily forgotten. “You’ve done more than enough,” he breathes, and their faces are so close together. 

Glancing down at Eddie’s lips, and back up to his eye, he feels himself leaning in. He stops, lips parted, waiting. Eddie closes the gap, pressing his lips tenderly to Steve’s. A shudder runs through his body, and Steve kisses back as gently as he possibly can, feeling heat where Eddie’s lip is split and bruised. One hand trails up to cup Eddie’s jaw, barely brushing against the stubble growing there. Eddie rests a hand on Steve’s chest, feeling the way his heart races. 

They part, Steve still kneeling on the ground and looking up at Eddie. He leans in for another gentle kiss, twice more, hopefully conveying all he wishes he had the words for. As Eddie looks at him, smile pulling at the cut on his lip, Steve makes himself a promise.

For the rest of his life, he’ll do anything to keep Eddie safe.

[sergeantkitty]

Y'all, my man Lucifer just likes himself some duckies.

Anyway, feel free to read through my rant of why I think he likes ducks so much. SPOILERS for S1 Ep8 toward the end.

(Click image for better quality.)

So in case you don't know, there's this famous(ish) Christian story called "The Devil and the Duck". I'm gonna try my best to summarize it here.

This boy gets a slingshot as a present and decides to be a little shit and impulsively uses it to shoot his grandma's pet duck. This kills the duck and the boy feels extreme guilt. His stupid bitchass sister reveals that she saw the whole thing and holds the boy's guilt over his head (remember this phrasing for later) and makes him do her chores and stuff for him, using what he did as blackmail and a guilt-trip.

The boy for a while keeps doing his sister's bidding until he cracks under the guilt and exhaustion from all the chores, and in a break down he apologizes to his grandma, admitting what he did to the duck. The grandma then reveals that she saw what happened from a nearby window, and although she was deeply hurt by what the boy did, she still forgave him immediately. She says that she'll always love the boy since he's her grandson and that seeing his immediate regret was enough for her. She was just waiting for him to admit it, apologize, and stop letting his sister manipulate him.

In the story the boy represents humanity/any person, the sister represents the devil, and the grandma represents God/Jesus. The boy commits a horrific sin and feels immense guilt over it and the sister/devil holds the sin over his head and tries to convince him to do her bidding since the sin was so great that there's no way that grandma/God could forgive him. The lesson of the story's pretty obvious from there: don't let the devil guilt you with your sins into giving up and turning against God since God sees all your sins and faults and still loves you and forgives you anyway, so long as you apologize and repent for your sin against him.

I think Lucifer as we see him in Hazbin Hotel is placing himself both as the devil (obviously) but also the boy in the story. He's clearly interpreted more as a sympathetic, guilt-ridden figure. He surrounds himself with memorabilia of his greatest regret: the downfall of man (hence the apples and snakes.) Now keep in mind that I've highlighted the phrasing of "holding over [one's] head", well that's because that's the specific phrasing used in the story. Now look at Lucifer's hat. It has the snake and apple. Lucifer is LITERALLY holding his greatest sin over his own head and has given up on his dreams and happiness in favor of doing the bidding of his own personal devil: his depression. He's let himself whither away in isolation and gave up on trying to be a proper king for the people he granted free will to since in his mind they're all wretched sinners abusing that gift. All he sees is the bad side of humanity.

I think to him the duck symbolizes the dreamer still inside him, that bit of hope left in him, that hope that even though he's the cause of evil in humanity he'll still one day be forgiven and maybe even be let back into heaven. We see heavenly figures like Sera and Emily feeling clear sympathy for him in S1 Ep6. They don't hate him, they just fear earning the same fate. Even going into S1 Ep8 we see him decide to stop letting his depression rule over him and help Charlie redeem sinners. He's working to, in some way, repent for his greatest sin because, thanks to Charlie, he's seeing the good in humanity again.

Do I have any way of knowing if this is even REMOTELY accurate? ...No... but I like the thought of this being the reason behind Lucifer's duck hyperfixation, and I haven't seen anyone talk about this or bring this possibility up. Anyways, thanks for reading my little rant :3

[lovechristianity]

"Suppose one of you had a hundred sheep and you lost one of them," Jesus said. "Wouldn't you leave the ninety-nine who were safe, and go and search for the lost sheep? And when you found the lost sheep, wouldn't you joyfully put it on your shoulders and carry it back home? Wouldn't you be so happy that you would tell all of your friends about finding the lost sheep?" (Luke 15:3-6) imagine that all of the religious leaders had to agree that they would do just as Jesus had suggested. Then Jesus said to them,"In the same way, there is more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent." (Luke 15:7)

The Bible teaches us that we are like sheep and sometimes stray away from God. That makes God very sad, but he never gives up on us. He keeps searching for us and calling to us. He wants to draw us back into his arms. He even sent Jesus, his Son, to save those who are lost. Aren't you glad that God doesn't give up on his lost sheep? I am, because "I once was lost, but now I'm found!"

Dear Jesus, you are the Good Shepherd. We are thankful that you came to save those who are lost. Amen.

[concretecultist]

Sacrilege

summary: being the daughter of a Pastor meant your life was the Bible through and through. Noah being the son of the choir director meant that even though he rejected the faith, he still showed up. You’ve known Noah all your life and always tried to get him right with Christ so he wasn’t predisposed to an afterlife of eternal damnation. What you didn’t expect though, was for him to begin chipping away at the walls of the only thing you’ve ever known. Faith.

pairing: PastorsDaughter!Reader x Noah Sebastian

warnings: sacrilege, smut, religious themes, corruption kink, unprotected sex, mentions of cult-like behaviors, "kool-aid" incident mentioned, just please beware reading this if this is not your vibe!!

word count: 4.6k

A/N: this is an 18+ blog so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! This is ALL FICTIONAL!!

You and Noah had known each other since you two could talk. He was always the rebellious one, you were the rule follower, you had to be. Your father was the Pastor of the Concrete Commune of Christ.

Coining its name based off of how "solid" the community’s connection to God was.

But even concrete can crumble.

“Have you changed your ways yet?,” You question him, “I grew up with you, Noah, I really don’t want you to go to hell,”

“Oh, Dove you’re gonna go to hell too,” he smirks, all of this was a joke to him. He has made it clear to everyone in the commune, from a young age, how he feels about religion but they let him stay in hopes that the 28 year old will one day accept Jesus as his Lord and Savior.

“No I’m not,” you shriek, “I’m a follower of God, I live by the book,”

“You live by the book huh?,” he plucks the collar of your shirt, “Deuteronomy 22:11, ‘ye shall not wear cloth combining linen and wool’… your little sweater with the mock collar is a sin,”

“Leviticus 19:28,” you eye his tattoos, any time you two were near each other, it was a banter like this. Noah found it amusing but you were serious. You cared about everyone in the commune, you wanted them to make it to Heaven.

“I’ve made my peace with knowing I won’t make it to those pearly gates,” he gets closer, “If I did it’d probably be to spit in your God’s face and dethrone him,”

“Noah, that’s blasphemous!,” you gasp, “W-what… what is wrong with you?,”

“Your God makes no mistakes right? So he made me this way”

“Satan really has his claws in you,” you give a shaky breath.

“He’s a cool guy,” shrugging as if it were a normal statement, “He’s not as uptight with the rules to brainwash you all like cattle,”

“It’s not brainwash! This is the way. The word of God is the true light,”

“Why do you think he’s called the Shepherd, Dove? Because you’re all sheep. None of you think for yourselves. It won’t be long before your father is feeding you all kool aid and you all commit mass suicide,”

“You’re real nasty you know that?,” How dare you he question your faith. Your faith is all you’ve ever known and as far as you are aware, it's the reason you wake up every day.

“Oh baby you haven’t seen nasty. I can show you though,”

“I cannot commit sin as freely as you,” the disgust written all over your face, “I cannot commit sin with a clear conscience,”

“So repent,” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, “What did your Lord and Savior die for if you don’t sin? You really want him to have died for nothing? Up on that cross with nothing but a sponge of vinegar in his mouth. You really want to be that ungrateful and not appreciate his sacrifice?,”

He gets closer to where he’s whispering in your ear. He’s so haunting, so… unholy, you question how he doesn’t burst into flames when he walks through the doors of the sanctuary.

“I can show you a real baptism. I bet you’d look pretty in all white… wet… as you cleanse your soul of the dirty acts you’ve committed”

“W-we… we should really focus on getting the lesson together, Noah,” you scoot your chair away from him and turn back to your bible, “I think the book of Psalms will be a great place to start. We can teach the others about the protection the Lord gives as long as you believe and do right unto others,”

Noah played your little game. Giving you pointers for the lesson. For someone who rejected faith the way he did, he knew the Bible pretty well, better than you actually, and almost no one in the congregation knows the Bible better than you.

That’s what started your time spent together. Your father was wary of Noah, considering his tattoos and his music taste outside of the church but when he saw the way Noah studied the Bible with you, he figured you were a good influence, he figured that you were following in his footsteps and spreading the gospel.

Except that wasn’t the case.

Noah was planting seeds in the garden that was your mind. He sat beside you every Wednesday night and Sunday morning whispering in your ear. Deconstructing everything your father was speaking at the altar.

He was able to plant seeds of doubt so easily and that shook you. How solid was your faith if you could question it in just a few weeks? Maybe the Devil is trying to get you on his side, but you must stand firm. So you pray more, you sit at the altar more, you sing hymns so that the voice of doubt could be drowned out.

But it was proving to be pointless almost, you’d go home every night and find it hard to read the Bible. Finding it hard to believe in a God that let horrible things happen around the world and to innocent people.

How do you keep faith like that?

That’s how you find yourself in the pulpit of the church.

Looking up at the statue of the figure that you called Lord and Savior for the last twenty something years of your life.

“Lord, if you’re listening I really need you to keep me strong in my stance. If you’re really there why is my faith in you wavering? If you’re really up there… why don’t you help the poor? Why do you keep sister Paula in an unsafe situation with her husband? If you’re really there-,”

“No one is listening, Dove,”

He has a teasing edge to his tone. He’s making fun of you.

“No one is up there answering your prayers,” his voice gets closer until he’s sitting beside you, “You’re alone. You’re praying to a voice in your head. You want to know why he doesn’t help the poor? Because he isn’t real. And if he is… then he’s one selfish fuck. Wanna know why sister Paula stays with her abusive husband? Because your father brainwashes his congregation into believing that divorce is something that immediately sends you to hell. Either that or your God is a sadistic voyeur,”

You feel Noah wipe the tears off your face as you turn to look for him.

“There are no pearly gates… there is no eternal damnation. Everything you were taught was to keep you in line. To keep you docile. But I know you wanna be set free, Dove,”

He sucks the tip of his thumb, humming at the taste of your tears.

“Do you want me to open the cage and set you free? Do you want me to show you the real light?,”

“I will be forsaken,” there’s a tremble in your tone. Your wings have been clipped long enough and yet now that you have the option to fly, a part of you wants to stay caged.

“You’ve already been abandoned, Dove,” his spit covered thumb traces over your lips, “I can give you something to pray to. Something that’s tangible. Something you can see… touch…,”

“I can be your God,” he was so close to your face now, so close that his lips were touching yours, you could smell the sweet mint of his favorite gum, “I can make today your judgment day. I can walk you to the light, Dove,”

“H-how? You’re just a mortal like me,”

“You doubt me but believe in a man that rose on the third day?,” he was smiling as if your words were the world's best comedy. The congregation had its hooks in you deep. But it's okay, he'd remove them with ease.

“Noah. I don’t wanna go to hell,” you cried, it was hard to break free of all you were taught

“With me, heaven is the only place you’ll go. Follow me and I can show you the real way. Follow me and you won’t have to live your life in fear. Follow me… and I will show you how a real God treats his followers,”

Before you can answer, Noah is taking your hand and guiding you to your father’s study, locking the door before letting go of your hand.

“Psalm 90:17, what does it say again?,”

You swallow thickly, you know the verse and for some reason it’s not coming out. It doesn't feel right to spew scriptures anymore.

“You claim to know the Bible front and back and can’t recite one of the easiest scriptures?,”

Why was he being so mean? One minute he seems as though he wants to help but the next he’s asking you questions related to scripture, what is his game?

“I do know it it’s just-,”

“Not important enough to remember,” he leans back on your father’s desk, arms folded, tattooed muscles stretching the sleeves of his tight black tee.

“Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us, and establish the work of our hands upon us. Yes, establish the work of our hands" Noah answers for you, sarcasm dressing his tone as he throws his hands up as if he's praising, “what does that scripture mean, Dove?,”

“It means… it’s a plea for the Lord to bless people and their work beyond imagination,” you seemed dazed.

“Every night that’s the last thing I speak before bed after I cum to the thought of you on your knees, praying to me,”

“M-Matthew 7:15, Noah… Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves,”

“And you are but a little lamb,” He pushes himself off the desk to circle you and suddenly… he feels like a hawk circling his prey, “I never came to you in sheep’s clothing… you knew who I was from the beginning,”

He was so close now. Whispering in your ear so close that it sent shivers down your spine.

“I had faith you could change. I prayed for you every night, Noah I wanted you to see the light,”

“I am… the true light. I don’t need you to pray for me… I need you to pray to me,”

“I cannot… Exodus 20: 4-5. There are no other Gods, Noah,”

His dark chuckle made your stomach do flips. How is he okay with laughing in the face of God like this?

“You’re forgetting a vital piece of that scripture, Dove,” his hands are touching you now and you find it embarrassing when his grip has to tighten when your knees buckle.

“I am not-,”

“I hate my people worshiping other Gods,” he answers plainly, “Your God admits there are others amongst him. He’s just a greedy…,”

A kiss to your neck makes you gasp, your mouth feels dry as you choke on your saliva.

“Selfish…,” a little nibble where your neck and shoulder meet, “Unworthy prick who doesn’t deserve a lamb like you. I deserve you. I deserve your praise. I deserve to hear you sing songs about me. I deserve to experience the look on your face when your knees ache from being on them so long when praying,”

His hand is under your skirt now, do you push him away? Do you… do you welcome it? What if this is God testing you to see if you’re a true follower?

Will you follow him?

Or the Devil?

“I deserve to be the flesh and blood you devour every first Sunday,”

His middle finger swipes between your lips and there’s an unfamiliar rush that takes over your body.

“Let me show you the fruit I bear,”

You can feel him smiling against your ear as he speaks directly into it. It feels like he’s speaking to your soul. All this time you’ve been praying and it’s been nothing but silence but now… now here Noah is, speaking his word into your ear and it’s taking over your mind.

That’s all you’ve ever wanted, was a voice in your ear with a sense of direction. Maybe the Lord has forsaken you… maybe it’s time to try a new path of faith?

“Show me the light,” you breathe out.

Those were the words he was waiting for. That’s all he needed to hear before he’s turning you around and gripping the nape of your neck to plant his lips on yours in a searing kiss. It was overwhelming, to feel his lips and his tongue and then his hands roaming your body as he sets you on the desk.

“Can I taste you?,” he asks, “Can I taste the sweet fruit you bear?,”

You don’t know exactly what he means by taste you but with the eyes of a lamb, you nod to him.

“I will be a good disciple. Show me the truth and I will follow you,”

The words coming out like projectile vomit. The haze of the confusion and deteriorating faith creates a cast over your mind.

Noah’s hands are slowly taking off your cotton panties, eyeing the string of slick that follows before it breaks its connection to your underwear and lands on your inner thigh.

“So ripe. So fresh,” he mutters as he lowers himself on his knees, “I just might have to worship you,”

It makes your cheeks heat up. All your life, all you’ve known is worshiping something you can’t see. You were taught to be humble and modest and yet here you are… with a heretic on his knees before you claiming he wants to praise you.

A flip switches.

“Show me,” you plead softly, “I wanna know what it’s like to be praised,”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought his eyes turned completely black for a second, but it’s too late now. You’re already committing sin and like Noah said… don’t let Jesus die for nothing, right?

His lips make a path on your inner thighs before they find that string of slick. You feel his warm tongue flatten against your thigh and suddenly his eyes are in the back of his head and he lets out a moan that was devilish, it came from the core, as if he was parched and it was the first drop of liquid he received after a long, desolate journey.

“I knew you’d taste good,”

You’re watching his every move. You can’t tear your eyes off of him. Especially when his mouth isn’t even an inch away from your core. He stared and stared and you were wondering if something is wrong.

So you try to close your legs but he’s not having that. His big hands spread them even wider than they were before, taking in the view.

“My goodness maybe there is a God,” he smirked as he stared at your wet lips, “Back out now, Dove, because once I start, I will feast as if it’s the last supper,”

“I wanna see the light. Show me the light, No- OH!,”

You’re immediately cut off when he finally touches you. His mouth is so warm, he’s getting you all over his face like a juicy peach in the summer time.

You’re gripping the edge of the desk as if your life depends on it and with what he’s doing, it seems like it does.

He’s suckling on your bundle of nerves, his finger tips are digging into your thighs and it feels so good but all the sounds you’re wanting to make are trapped in your throat.

“N-Noah… N-,” you wheeze

“N-N-Noah,” he pulls back and mocks you. He’s taunting you and it brings a wave of embarrassment so bad that tears flooded into your eyes, “Relax. You’re being a good disciple,”

Your eyes flutter at those words as he dives back in. He’s lapping at you as if you have a prize inside and he wants it.

Then you feel it. He’s sliding a finger in and it takes your breath away.

“There we go,” he whispers against your clit, “Tell me when I’ve hit that spot,”

You have no idea what spot he’s talking about. Not until he’s adding a second finger and reaches deep within you and lightly curls his finger.

“Oh! O-oh m-my… goodness!!,” your legs bend and tremble, toes pointed. You don’t know what that is but it feels immaculate.

“There she goes,” He’s got you now. He now has made a mental map of your core. Knowing what makes you cry out, what makes you mewl like a cat in heat.

His fingers are speeding up and your juices are splashing on the ugly carpet of the church office.

You’re committing sacrilege and you know it’s wrong but why does it feel so… right? so… Heavenly?

Your stomach begins to tighten and you need something better to grip on, so your hand flies to Noah’s head, gripping so tight the moan he gives goes straight to your core and before you know it, your body is convulsing and you’re crying asking the Lord for forgiveness for the sin you’ve just committed.

“You’re forgiven,” Noah answers, “Let’s repent, yeah?,”

He slowly stands up and within the light of the rising moon, his lips are red, swollen and glistening. He’s sucking on the fingers that were just inside you and a part of you feels as though it should make you cringe but instead it causes your heart to race and you want to taste his tongue.

As if he can read your mind, his lips are on yours once more and you can taste yourself. It’s not something you’d taste alone, but tasting it on Noah? That’s something you can get used to.

After he pulls away he pulls you off the desk and brings you around to the other side. On the back of the office door is a mirror and above the door is a cross.

“As much as I’d like you on your knees… I have something else in mind that’s far more exciting,” he pulls you back and takes the swiveling chair so the back is against the desk before helping you on it, situating you on your knees and pulling the neckline of your top down so your breasts spill over.

He toys with your nipples with a shit-eating grin, admiring the way your body responds to him.

“Hebrews 13:4,” you whine. The guilt started to creep back in, maybe you should stop, Noah would understand. With the cross staring right back at you, it all started to become too much, “Let marriage be held in honor among all, and let the marriage bed be undefiled, for God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous,”

“I am the only God here, Dove,”

Your eyes meet his in the mirror and you’re back under his spell.

“What God keeps his people from experiencing something so good, so… freeing that it feels like they’re ascending? I am unclipping your wings, Dove. Won’t you fly with me?,”

You feel him poke at your core, spreading the wetness, coating his tip. He just wanted to slide right in but he knew he had to work you up first. His grip on your breast was tantalizing. His tattooed hand in contrast to your skin was a beautiful sight to see.

He was right.

What God kept his people caged from experiencing beautiful sights like this?

“Start praying,” is all he says before he starts pushing the tip in, “I want to hear what you pray for,”

It was a distraction tactic but he couldn’t get enough of your voice. Especially when you pray for the congregation after Bible study. It always made him hard, he always wanted to bend you over the podium and just hear your delusional prayers.

“I..,”

His hand that’s on your breast is now gripping your cheeks and keeping your head straight to the mirror.

“Don’t get shy now,”

“I call upon God, the Father..,”

He pushes in more and it’s not painful but it is a lot to handle.

“God, the Son a-and God, the Holy Spirit,”

With each word he slowly makes his way inside of you before his pelvis is flush against your ass.

He sighs as if he’s been reborn again.

“Keep going, baby,”

“I… I ask that you watch over us. B-bless us with the gift to see another day. Please continue to guide and protect me,”

“You sound so pretty praying to me,”

“B-but I’m praying to God,” You correct.

“Dove have you learned nothing?,” his chuckle was so dark, “I am your God now. Everything you do. Everything you pray for. You’re saying it to me,”

His hips roll and it causes you tremble in his grip. It’s dizzying. Your vision doubles as he begins a pace to move in and out of you.

“So keep fucking praying,”

There was no room to argue. There was no hint of teasing in his voice.

You didn’t want to anger him. You wanted to make him proud.

You had to be a good disciple, right? Prove to him that you’re worthy.

“God, enlighten my mind with truth. Inflame my heart w-with… with,” a gasp is ripped from your chest as his hips snap into you, he’s so deep. It feels like your nerve endings are on fire and it’s hard to think straight.

You hear the mess being created between your legs and its mouth watering.

“Oh God, please,” your head is thrown back and you turn to look at Noah, “What… why does it feel so good?,”

Noah licked the tears that fell down your cheek. Kissing your waiting lips, picking up his pace and he swallows your cries while you grip his wrists that are caging you in that way you don’t topple over.

“I told you I would baptize you. I told you I would show you the light. I told you I’d show you how a real God treats his followers. You’re being reborn again, Dove,”

Your eyes roll the deeper he gets.

“God, please,” a whimper drips off your lips, you call out into the empty office, “Inflame my heart with l-love… enrich my life with a-service,”

Noah’s hand snaked around to your core to add pressured circles to your clit. He was everywhere.

His breath fanning on your cheek, his hand at your core, his cock deep inside, his eyes boring into your soul. His aura wrapped you up in a warm hug. This is what the presence of God feels like.

The tears flowed. This is the first time in a long time you’ve felt the reward of faith. Maybe Noah was a God… a patient God who waited for you to find your way to him.

He has a follower for as long as you’ll live… and maybe there after.

“Don’t forsake me,” you moan, “I need you. I need something to b-believe in. Don’t f-forsake me. Don’t forsake me!,”

It was a prayer that Noah never expected to spill from your mouth with such conviction.

“A true God doesn’t abandon his people,” Noah’s pace was deadly now. His hips clapping your ass sounded like the church drums during Sunday praise and worship. Your moans were more beautiful than any gospel Noah would help direct during Tuesday night practice.

“I will follow you, I will follow you, My Lord,” you reach behind him to grab at his hair. At this point, your hips were moving back to meet him.

“Thank you!!,” a wanton moan escapes you as he adds an intoxicating amount of pressure to the bundle of nerves between your legs, “Th-thank you for… for you faithfulness a-and presence in my life!,”

Most people loved for dirty talk… but this was incomparable. This couldn’t be topped. The little bird of his dreams was singing her tune for him.

Anyone could get off to dirty talk. But only someone as twisted as Noah could get hot and bothered to the sound of the Pastor’s daughter abandoning her faith to pray to him.

He is God.

Your God has been dethroned.

You’re his now.

“I tr-trust you with this day,” your eyes were so glossy that it actually tugged at Noah’s heart, “And all that it h-holds,”

“Fuck,” it was a mix of a moan and chuckle as he felt his cock twitch, “Say my prayer, Dove. I know you’re close. Say my prayer and you’ll see the light,”

He gave you a few moments to enjoy his thrusts with an empty mind. Mouth hanging open, breath hitching, tears falling and eyes rolling.

The beauty of this moment must have been what Peter felt when he saw Jesus walk on water.

“C’mon, Dove. Say it with me,” he slowed his pace down to pull out his phone. He wouldn’t record the action, but he needed to record the audio. He needed this and you wanted to put on a show, wanted to prove to him that he made the right choice.

“You can do it,”

You don’t know if you can. He’s so deep, his fingers are circling at a pace that’s too fast. His lips felt like they were searing an imprint onto your skin.

“Look at the cross and pray,”

He softly turned your head back to the gold cross above the door, picking up his pace once more.

“Our Father,” he begins, coaxing you to speak the words.

“Who art in H-Heaven,” the tears were spilling too fast for you to keep up, “Hallowed be thy name,”

His deep tone was mumbling under your high pitched mewls, creating a lovely harmony.

“Thy Kingdom come!!,”

He's bent you forward now. Hand under your chin, other still torturing your clit.

“Th-thy will be d-done,” the cross was hazy now, you were losing your wits about you. This was too good. It was shameful and it felt too good.

“Keep going, baby. You’re making your God so proud,”

You clench around him and you’d have thought there was a dark entity around you with the way he growled.

“On E-Earth as it is in Heav… en,” eyes rolling, there’s spit dripping down your chin and onto the expensive leather that the church tithes paid for.

Noah was on the edge. This was so sinful, even for him, but yet he smiled as he took in the view of your face in the mirror. So innocent. So… dumb. You really did have the eyes of a lamb, no wonder it was so easy for the church to brainwash you. You didn’t know any better.

But it’s okay.

He’s here to set you free.

“Give us this day our daily bread,” he groaned along with you, “And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us,”

You were almost there. You could see the light. It was coming. This was real. Noah was right.

“And lead us not into t-temptation… b-but deliver us from ev… evil,” you were breathless now. Panting like you were suffering from heat exhaustion.

“For thine is the Kingdom,” Noah interjected, hips not stopping, you could feel your wetness dripping, your stomach was in knots.

“Oh God!,” You trembled beneath him.

“No,” he lightly smacked your cheek, “You can’t step into the light until you’re finished. Be good. You’re almost there. You don’t wanna disappoint me, do you?,”

“N-no,” you’re sobbing at this point. You can feel it in your guts. He’s stirring you up like brother Jackson’s gumbo. You were so wet. So fucking warm. The veins of Noah matching perfectly within the ridges of your own walls.

“Then finish. You’re almost there,”

“For thine is the Kingdom,” Noah prompted again.

“And the p… the power and the.. the glory forever a-and ever,”

Noah rolled his hips a certain way and pressed harder on your clit and that was your undoing.

“Amen,” he smiled darkly, it gave him a new life purpose to hear you scream and fall apart in his arms while staring at the cross above the door. His stills as he fills you up.

“Oh God!! Oh God, please, please, please,” you’re sobbing, face fallen against the leather chair.

“I’m right here,” he speaks against your shoulder, slowly pulling out of you, admiring the way his cum spills out of you and falls onto the vintage maroon carpet. He figured he should clean it up but then he opted not to.

He turned the recording off and cleaned you up as best as he could before sitting you flat into the chair and holding your face ever so softly in his hands.

“Breathe,” he had to guide you for the next few minutes.

“Am I dead?,” you ask softly. It was the most intense thing you’ve ever experienced. More than when you caught the Holy Ghost during a sermon.

“No, Dove. You’re very much alive,” he kisses your tear stricken cheeks.

“You’ve just been reborn. Welcome to your new purpose. Your new life,”

[10yrsyart]

Logos- the Word of God Erebos- darkness, gloom

i don't remember where i heard this analogy, but it really stuck with me. you can't stay on the fence of belief/ unbelief forever, because the devil owns the fence. he owns all the religions of the world, except for the only faith that can save you: faith in the blood of Jesus Christ. the Son of God came down, lived a sinless life, took our sins upon Himself in death, and resurrected so we might have life too. because He LOVES us.

the truth is, you don't know when the end of your life will be. when you come to stand before the Just and Righteous Judge, will you be covered by Jesus' perfect blood, shielding you from punishment? or will you still have all your sins covering you because you rejected Him?

i don't write this to condemn, but because i love you and want you to have an eternity of joy and peace. so i warn you with love: Jesus is returning soon, to take His people away before God's Wrath and judgement begins (Revelation 3:10, 1 Thessalonians 5:9).

signs in the sun, moon, and stars. wars and rumors of wars, people's love for each other turning to hate. the increased intensity of natural disasters and strange behavior of animals. every other week some expert talks of world distinction events in our future (AI, or famine, or disease, or WWIII). God has sent dreams and visions to all people about the times about to happen. you can feel there's something weird about the world right now. God is speaking loudly.

now is the time to repent, accept the sacrifice for your sins and put your faith in Him. now is the time to step into the Kingdom of Life that will never pass away 💙✝ "For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, so that whoever believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life (...) There is no judgment against anyone who believes in Him. But anyone who does not believe in Him has been judged already, for not believing in God's one and only Son." (John 3:16, 18)

transcript:

Helel: What did they say that gripped your attention so much?

Girl: Prince Helel. She was just telling me about life in the Logos Kingdom compared to the Erebos Kingdom. I haven't really decided where I want to live yet.

Helel: Pffeh, I can assure you, she greatly exaggerate. I've been to the Logos Kingdom. Those people are practically in chains and they don't even realize.

Girl: ..But you rule the Erebos Kingdom. Doesn't that make you a little bias? Either way, I'd still like to decide for myself.

Helel: Of course, of course! Take all the time you want. We'd love to have you!

(years pass)

Girl: Helel, what's happening?!

Helel: That, my dear, is a curtain call.

Girl: I don't understand-

Helel: It's time you came with me.

Girl: Wait-! But I never picked a kingdom! I'm still on the fence-

Helel: Oh, I'm terribly sorry for the confusion! You see, I OWN the fence!

Girl: No! Get off me! I thought I had more time! Stop-!

Girl: King Yeshua!!

Helel: No, sshe'sss mine! Sshe waited too long-

Yeshua: (Release her. Serpent.)

Helel: (Fine. But they won't all want sssaving~)

Girl: Thankyou, thankyou, he almost had me! If You didn't... I'm so sorry. Please don't send me back to him-

Yeshua: I came to you when you called, didn't I? You made your decision. And I'm so Glad! Allow Me to welcome you home, Dear One.

[arielleslipgloss]

God wants a real relationship with you!! How can you grow in your faith?

(all photos above are mine) “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” - John 3:16 (kjv)

God is Good!! Jesus Christ literally died on the cross, while thinking of you. He never judges you ever. He loves you even when you take His kindness for granted. He gives you strength to push through everyday. He is there for you, even when you don’t feel Him with you. He cares for you when no one else does. He understands you without you even saying anything. He sees the good and how worthy you are, when you don’t. He knows you’re in pain, despite that fake smile you put on. He knows you’re trying extremely hard. He loves you more than anyone ever could. He knows you more than you know yourself. He, our Father created you beautifully. He, the Father gave his only Son for you. He cares and loves you. He, the Lord is good.

Follow His Commands!! God does so much for you and continues to do more. The greatest thing you could do to repay Him, is to follow Him and His commands. Follow in His plan, not your plans. The difference between God’s plan and our plans is that we have backups. God doesn’t have backups for us, He already knows what is right for us. He already knows what is good and bad for us. He knows your true potential, you don’t. His commands will bring you peace. His commands will change your heart for the better. His commands will lead you to the goodness of God. Now, following God’s commands is hard for everyone. I know personally, I struggle everyday with following His commands. I also know that God never said it would be easy following Him. Yet, He is still with me every step of the way in my journey. So, try to remember that He will always be there for you. He will always be cheering you on.

Spend Genuine Time with Him!! God wants you to give Him your heart. He wants your love, your heart, your time. He wants to have a real, deep, connection with you. Overall, He wants a real relationship with you. He wants to be your best friend! Spend time with Him like He’s your best friend. Have fun with Him like an innocent & pure child. Give Him little hauls of what you buy. Show Him your morning/night routine. Tell him about random stuff. Talk to Him like He’s your best friend. Laugh with Him like He’s your best friend. Spend all night on “call” with Him like He’s your best friend. Although, still keep in mind He is your Lord and you still should fear Him.

Why Most People Are Scared to Follow God!! A lot of people are scared to serve God. This is because many don’t want to surrender to Him. They don’t want to give Him their heart, mind, body, etc. It sounds terrifying to a lot of people. It may even sound scary to you reading this. Although, my way of thinking is that He technically already has control over it all. I mean, God did create you and give you your everything. He just gave you a choice for you to surrender or not. He gave you freedom to do whatever. So, if you think about it, the difference is not huge. He gave you everything.

Reminder: Don’t forget to repent because of God’s kindness and that Jesus loves you💗

I love you so much dolls!! Remember that God is always with you and to stay pretty (you already are) 💗🎀✝️

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.” - John 4:7 (kjv)

[thewordfortheday]

Lamentations 3:21-25

“But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. ‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul, therefore I will hope in Him.’

The Lord is good to those who wait for Him, to the soul who seeks Him.”

Each day as we rise let's remind ourselves that God's compassion and His mercies are fresh, they are new every morning. As children of God, as we seek Jesus, as we draw close to Him and wait for Him, He will renew our strength, and fill our hearts with hope. We will never feel despondent. 

Maybe, you have failed Him, but if you really repent and come back to Him, He's ready to forgive you and embrace you, because He loves you dearly. Jesus died to save you. His love is steadfast it never ceases. How awesome is His love for us!

[blackwomanwriter]

"Mine"

Read: Part I, Part II

It's been a minute, but I finally wrote something. And of course, I had to go back to this series because there is something about Thomas Shelby. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and let me know your favorite part. Happy Reading!

He entered quietly like he was on a mission. Although this one was unlike the ones he had performed during the war and after. No, this mission was different. Very different. Yet, Tommy performed it with the same intensity.

Eyes narrowed on the quiet interior, clocking each entry point and exit way, like a soldier, he assessed his environment. He hadn’t been in a house this small since his childhood. Even back then, the space had felt cluttered and cramped. Too noisy to think. Too busy to breathe. The stench of his father’s hangover in the air before it disappeared altogether.

He remembered talking Arthur out of trying to find their father. A man unworthy of carrying - no, sharing his surname. Tommy tensed his jaw, moving past the memory. Instead, he raised a brow at how devastatingly clean the entire place felt. Physically tidy, but clean in a way that made the house feel empty. Unlived. Unloved. Cold. The opposite of everything he thought of her. She was warm. Tender. Inviting.

Moving to the narrow staircase, he could hear the water running. The pipes pushing the water through the house. She was here. She was alive. She was avoiding him - again.

He hiked up the stairs, stepping one foot in front of the other. Like a soldier, he kept moving. He carried on with the task before him. His mind focused on the mission.

Opening the door quietly, Tommy leaned on the door frame - taking in the sight before him. Curved hips that were fuller since he had last seen her. A waist that tempted him to wrap his arms around her. It was now that he reached in his pocket for a cigarette.

“Jesus, Tommy,” she shrieked. The click of his lighter giving him away.

She rested a hand on her heart, shuddering as she closed her eyes.

Unbothered, he traced the stick along his bottom lip before lighting it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” She pinched the bridge of her nose, as her breath steadied.

“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he stated. Gaze unchanged. Smoke filling the air.

“I’m in mourning,” she enunciated, grabbing a towel to cover herself. She didn’t bother hiding her frustrations as she shoved past him. She was angry. He liked her angry.

At first, when she didn’t answer his call, he had briefly worried that she was sad. Tearful over the sudden death of her husband, who the police found floating in the river after a night of drinking. His death ruled accidental according to the official report. A drunken man’s blunder. An unsurprising end of life. An expected death for a man who drank as much as her late husband did.

An easy lie to believe, but she knew the truth. The greatest mistake the dead man had made was marrying Thomas Shelby’s favorite whore. It was her mistake more than his. She knew what she was doing when she said yes. The risks she was taking by marrying while Tommy was off in America. Her moment of rebellion had cost a life.

Although, they had gotten past the letter. She hadn’t returned to him. She wanted to keep her promise. To stay married. To honor what was left of her vows. She wouldn’t work for him. She wouldn’t see him. The temptation of losing herself in him made her stay away. She had already ruined the sanctity of her marriage by sleeping with him in his office. She didn’t want to continue making a mockery of the words she vowed before God and man.

She was suddenly religious, which amused Tommy. He thought it was a game, but she clung on to every word spoken by the priest. At the funeral, she remembered his words at the wedding. How he had pressed upon her the importance of repentance. Before Thomas Shelby, she had been a good girl. Never told a lie. Prayed before bed. Devout daughter. Devoted sister. An upstanding and honorable member of her community. He had changed her. Corrupted her. Loved her. Destroyed her.

“It’s been weeks,” Tommy stated coolly.

She ignored him. Her hands focused on the cream she was applying to her skin. Smooth skin. Soft skin. Skin his lips remembered. The taste imprinted on his tongue. Tommy exhaled.

His patience was wearing thin. He loved her. She loved him. He figured out how to help her keep her promise and allow him to keep his. Her husband was dead, and she was free.

“I see you’re eating again,” he quipped, trying to stir a reaction out of her. She didn’t disappoint. He ducked as the bottle of cream nearly struck his head.

“I went from being a whore to being a widow.”

“Sounds like the beginning of a book.” Tommy shrugged then ducked again. This time, she threw a shoe.

“At least I can bargain my way into heaven as a whore,” she resolved, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Is that what your priest tells you?” He brought the cigarette back to his lips for another drag.

He knew. Of course, he knew. She wondered if he was having her followed again. How else would he know about her visits to the church. Her talks with the priest.

“My greatest sin is you,” she finished her thought.

Her words were meant to be cutting, but Tommy remained unbothered. His eyes stoic, jaw set as if he was watching a horse race. He brought his cigarette to his lip, letting it dangle as he neared her. 

She stood up, ready to shove past him again, but he grabbed her forearm. Her eyes flared up at him as she tried to loosen his grip, but he remained firm.

“You want to talk about sins, ey?” He whispered against her ear. “You married a man who picked a pint over his life. A man who stowed you away in a house he couldn’t bear to live in himself, while he stayed three doors down with his brother’s wife.”

She frowned, hearing him confirm a suspicion she wouldn’t allow herself to believe. When he stopped coming home, she told herself that he was drunk at a pub or sleeping his hangover off at his mother’s house.

“A man who lost his wages betting on fights.”

So that’s where all their money had gone, she thought. Her face didn’t flinch as Tommy confirmed another truth. Her late husband was just another man who had let her down. All the words she threw at Tommy about him being a good man were lies. He was just better at hiding his wrongs.

Tommy softened his grip on her hand, as he relayed the sin that he couldn’t forgive. The sin that forced him to intervene without thinking of the consequences. “A man who was willing to sell his wife to settle his debts.”

Her eyes widened then glazed over. The shred of innocence he once found in those warm brown irises was quickly disappearing. He cursed at himself for the letter, but it wasn’t just the letter. It was the months he left her wondering if he could ever love again. It was the voice that told him to push her away. She married the man because of him.

Tommy released her hand. There was a part of him that wished he hadn’t been so honest. Her hardened eyes told him just as much. The look on her face was one he had seen before in the women who dared to love him. When his darkness eventually shadowed their light. When his world swallowed them whole.

She reached for the cigarette hanging from his mouth. Taking a long drag, she exhaled. The smoke covering Tommy’s face.

“My sin was marrying the wrong man,” she concluded.

His thumb brushed her skin, remembering when her lips pressed against his in hunger. His lip bleeding as their need took precedence. Her lip bruised from his appetite. Even when he had her, he needed more. Tracing her lip, he gently placed the cigarette between his fingers then lifted it to his mouth. The first puff was for the memory. The second was for his patience.

“No, my god doesn’t care about sins.”

“I didn’t think you believed in,” sighing, she looked up, “anything.”

Tommy closed his eyes. His patience wearing on him again. “You’re moving out of this house. You’re coming back to work, and you’re going to answer when I call.”

“Of course, Mr. Shelby,” she answered.

His jaw ticked at the use of his surname. The smoke from his cigarette creating a haze over his eyes. “Don’t start.”

“Tell me what your god thinks about whores.”

“Everyone’s a whore,” he muttered, as he moved toward the door, already thinking of his next order of business. The kiss would have to wait.

“Is that what your wife thinks?”

Tommy stopped walking. Leaning his hand on the door frame, he closed his eyes. His nose flared. His annoyance growing with her disobedience. He seemed to attract women who were determined to do the opposite of what he asked.

“She confronted me. Told me to stay away,” she admitted, and in that second, he realized why she ignored him. She was no longer his secret. He made his affection too obvious.

“I’ll take care of it,” he firmly stated, leaving no room for further questions. Yet, she continued.

“Does she follow any of the other girls or is it just me?” She asked.

He wasn’t ready to admit that there weren’t any other girls. That there hadn’t been other girls for a while. From the moment he declared his love, Tommy had made himself hers - only hers.

“You love me, but there are others,” she whispered. “I love you, but all I do is think of them. To be with you, I have to worry about them. I have to wait to be yours.”

“Is that what you’re doing then - waiting?” He asked, closing the distance between them.

Her hand dropped to her middle and Tommy’s eyes followed. He stared, then frowned before bringing his gaze back to her. “How far along?”

Her eyes softened. The grief coloring every muscle in her face. Tommy closed his eyes. She was in mourning. He understood her words clearly now. It was moments like this that made him miss Polly. She would have known.

Tommy muttered something in his Romanian tongue as he sat on the bed. He stamped his cigarette out in silent rage. There was never an end. Death seemed to find him at every turn. It hunted him. Craved him.

His hands went to her robe. Slowly, he pulled the fabric, revealing her body. A body that had prepared itself to carry his child. A body that had nourished him back to life. His fingers moved to her belly, tracing the skin there. The soft, smooth skin.

He looked up at her and saw the tears she wouldn’t shed. How long had she held them in, unable to weep. Unable to speak. Unable to fully mourn. Wrapping his arms around her middle, he pulled her in and kissed the place his hands had touched. He tried to do what she had done for him; he tried to make it okay for her to feel.

“I’m fine, Tommy. It’s better this way,” she said, her voice cold and void of any emotion.

“When?” He whispered, knowing it was his, and yet wondering how he’d missed so much in so little time.

“It doesn’t matter,” she stiffened. “It’s gone now, and I need to move on.”

She gave him a second to make peace with the reality she had lived with for weeks. Then, she moved from his touch, closing her robe as she distanced herself. Loving him was painful enough without the added grief of their lost child.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she folded her arms, avoiding his gaze.

Tommy raised a brow, staring at her before glancing around the room. It was as cold as the rest of the house - bare of any details or remnants of her. Standing up, Tommy found a new mission. He moved past her in search of anything that made the four walls more of a home.

His hands traced the metal bed frame. His fingers trailing the linen and cloth. He opened windows and tapped on wooden walls. He inspected the little furniture in the room, unsatisfied with the results.

“Tommy,” she started to say as he pushed open a wardrobe, finding it empty.

She was leaving. She planned to leave London. She planned to leave him. The thought stung in Tommy’s mind as he opened drawer after empty drawer. His anger taking center stage.

“Tommy,” her voice raised with concern.

He shoved the empty wardrobe back, watching as it crashed against the wall.

“Stop,” she yelled, as he shoved the wardrobe again and again. His grief coloring his anger. His anger coloring his grief. Her heart jumped as the wooden drawers finally cracked under the pressure. The splitting wood overshadowing her screams as the wardrobe completely fell apart.

“Tommy,” she cried, rushing to stop him from breaking the wood further. “Stop.”

“Please,” she whispered. Her plea full of a love she couldn’t deny him.

He exhaled. The sound of his heightened breath taking all the space in the room. His anger taking all the air. Tommy closed his eyes. The familiar whispers creeping in his head, telling him to put out the fire. To walk over to the other side. To let go of this life. To finally rest.

She swallowed, unsure of what to tell him, and yet, she persisted. “My sister found work outside of London. She thought it’d be good for me…”

Tommy shook his head, looking up at the ceiling.

“I wanted to tell you,” she stopped, lowering her head. There was nothing to say.

He scoffed. “Tell me.”

It felt like deja vu to hear him utter those words to her again. To hear the same command. The same request he’d asked from her when she told him about the wedding. Yet, this time, there was nothing left to say.

She stared at the back of his head. Her fingers yearning to brush his hair or wrap themselves around him. Her lips longing to kiss the nape of his neck.

Closing her eyes, she confessed. “There’s no life for me here.”

“You’re not leaving.” He pushed back, ignoring her words. “You’re mine.”

“When?” She sighed. “When am I yours, Tommy?”

He lifted his head, staring at the wall. His mind moving a mile a minute. She couldn’t leave him. His heart wouldn’t allow it. His body would protest. His hunger was contained to her. His thoughts all went back to her. How many minutes until he can think of her? How many meetings until he can dream of her? He suffered without her to be with her. Every hour he was away was an hour he promised to give to her.

He was a selfish man, who wanted what he wanted. A man who endured wars and monsters disguised as men. A cursed man. A broken man. A suffering man. A man who didn’t deserve her, and yet, he wanted her. He needed her. She was the cigarette on his lips. The pain tablets in his pocket. The shirt on his back. The razor blade on his cap. She couldn’t leave him.

“When your wife is gone? When you’re fucking other women?” Her voice continued in the background, but Tommy was half-listening. “When you’re bored? When the nightmares come? When the work is done? When am I yours?” She asked again, although there was no anger in her question.

“When you married him, you were mine. Every time you put on his fucking ring; you were mine.” His brows furrowed as he reached into his side pocket for a cigarette. “When you moved into this house, you were mine. When you had my fucking child inside of you, you were mine.” Tommy sniffed, turning to face her. “From the moment you entered my office, you belonged to me.”

She stiffened, as she traced her empty ring finger. His crassness didn’t bother her as much as his refusal to listen. He disregarded her words, only focusing on what he wanted. It was why she didn’t want to tell him about the baby. He would have stuck her in a big house that he would never visit. Given her everything except the thing she wanted, which was him. But now that nightmare wasn’t even a reality because she’d lost their child. She'd lost a piece of him.

“Is that all it takes…” she started to argue, but words were pointless. Their arguments were pointless. They had a love that was cursed from inception.

In this life, he was promised to another. In the next, he would be reunited with another. In life and death, she had no place in Thomas Shelby’s life. Her love for him didn’t save their unborn child. It reminded her that their love had no place to grow. It was wilted, and no amount of money or prayer could save them.

“You’re not leaving,” Tommy declared, cornering her until she had no choice but to look up at him.  Her brown eyes sinking into him, full of a love he didn’t deserve.

“You made me a promise,” he whispered. His jaw tensing as he remembered that night in his office when he had made himself hers. When he had promised to live. To stop craving death. The gods had given him a second chance with her.

“Tommy,” she protested, but he continued.

“You gave me your word.” His lips brushed hers and her body shuddered. “You made promises to me. Promises I intend to collect.”

His hand slipped down to her robe, loosening the ties. His fingers marking a trail from her chest to her neck to her lips. “Promises you agreed to keep.”

She folded under his touch. Her head falling on his chest as she exhaled. Quick, short breaths that made Tommy pull her in closer.

“And what of your promises?” She grabbed his fingers before they could slip between her thighs.

“Hmmm,” he hummed, trying not to smirk. “Remind me again.”

Shaking her head, she moved from his hands. Her heart ached, but it would always ache whether she was with him or not. He was not wrong. It belonged to him. From the moment she entered his office, her heart had become his. Knowing he was promised to another, it still beat for him. It yearned for him. It acted without consequence.

Thou shall not commit adultery. A vow she’d broken within a month of knowing Thomas Shelby. But her heart didn’t care. It didn’t care about the commandments she broke. Her sins were plenty but her heart was full. Full of love for a man who couldn’t confess his love until she married another.

Turning away from him, she closed her robe. Her hand wanted to follow the trail he etched on her skin, but she didn’t. She could hear him lighting a cigarette. His eyes on her. His eyes undressing her. His eyes claiming her as his.

She wanted to run, but her heart wouldn’t let her. Instead, she willed herself to face him. Smoke in the air. His scent in every crevice of the cramped room. She inhaled and tried to tell him again. Her thoughts were on her lips, and yet, nothing.

Offering her his cigarette, Tommy stepped towards her. “Leaving London won’t cure you of me.”

She reached for the smoke. Grateful for the distraction. For the heat. For the vapors. For the way her lungs would expand and contract. For the cigarette they shared between them. His lips on her lips. Her lips on his.

“That priest of yours won’t help you either,” he added.

“What is the cure then?”

Tommy leaned into her. His hands on her waist, slowly moving her robe up past her knees then her thighs. “First, you have to stop running.”

“Running?” She asked, confused by his accusation.

“The wedding. The job. This house.” He counted. “And now these plans of leaving London.” His hands pushed the fabric of her robe from her skin, leaving her naked before him. “You mustn’t run.”

“And what if I do?” She questioned, not allowing her nudity to dissuade her.

Tommy brushed her cheek before taking the cigarette from her lips. “I’ll find you. Remind you of where you belong.”

“And where is it that I belong?” She asked. Her eyes gentle and pleading. 

He brought her hand to his chest, placing it where his heart lay. “Here. Right here.”

She swallowed her nerves, terrified of letting her heart speak. “Second?” She went back to his list.

“Second.” He took a drag, exhaling the smoke before he continued, “You must know, I get scared,” he admitted, and she finally understood why he’d written her that letter. Thomas Shelby was scared of loving her. The first woman he loved died in his arms because of a bullet meant for him. Love was something to fear, and he was terrified.

“Now, it’s unpleasant and it’s unkind. But when I am…”

“I’ll remind you,” she finished, “of where you belong.”

Tommy cupped her face, placing a kiss on her head. “Good.”

She closed her eyes. Her heart too fragile for Thomas Shelby’s confession. He hadn’t proposed, yet they were already exchanging vows.

“Last.” He leaned his head on hers. “And the most important.”

“Yes,” she breathlessly whispered.

Tommy’s finger traced her bottom lip before he kissed her. His lips hungry to taste her. Selfish in his desire - his consumption of her. He groaned when he felt her kiss him back. Her own need just as desperate as his. She moaned when their lips parted, disappointed by her body’s need for air.

“I promise to have you pregnant by spring.”

Her eyes lit up as she laughed for the first time in months. She chuckled, not taking him seriously. “Tommy.”

“A boy,” he declared, wrapping his arms around her middle. “He’ll have your eyes and my charm.”

She giggled, playfully hitting his chest as he picked her up and placed her on the bed. Her smile widening as she gazed at him. She was returning to herself - returning to him. Weeks of grief slowly thawing from her heart.

Tommy stamped out his cigarette before joining her with a kiss. His body on top of hers. His hands on either side of her head. His mind fixated on the softness of her skin.

“I’ll be back at work in the morning,” she whispered in between kisses.

“You won’t be working anymore.”

She pulled away from his kiss, frowning at him. “What are you on about, Tommy?”

He sighed, already knowing he was about to start another fight. “I won’t have you working with a child of mine inside of you.”

“What?”

“You’ll be carrying my son,” Tommy repeated.

Closing her eyes, she realized he was serious. Of course, he was serious. She wondered how long he’d been planning to get her pregnant again.

“I don’t deserve you,” Tommy kissed her lips. “But, I promised to give you a life worthy of everything you are.” He reminded her. “I promised to let you in my head. I promised to do more than just wait to die. I promised to live.”

She wanted to be angry with him, but he remembered. Every word. Every promise. Everything they had discussed in his office.

“I promised to keep you safe.”

“To make us safe,” she corrected.

He kissed her again. “There are no other girls,” Tommy confessed, reminding her of his other promise. Tommy Shelby was hers.

Grabbing his collar, she pulled him into a long kiss. “No more running,” she vowed.

Tommy smiled. “No more.” He pressed his lips on hers before adding, “You’re mine.”

This time, she didn’t argue, simply letting him kiss her. “Now, where were we, Mrs. Shelby?” He asked, slipping his fingers between her thighs.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was a long one. If you made it to the end, thank you for reading! Let me know your favorite part.

[yeslordmyking]

1 John 1:9 — Today's Verse for Thursday, November 2, 2023

[dittanyinbloom]

Baby Fever

Ominis Gaunt x Fem!MC. 11 years after the events of fifth year. Could been seen as a final part to Note Taking. But trilogy is so sweet I didn’t want to include smut.

Summary: Anne is struggling after the birth of her child, and Sebastian has too many kids of his own to give Anne the proper care she needs. Sebastian calls on you for help, but your husband Ominis insists on coming along despite his affinity for children. 13.3k long so grab some tea besties.

Warnings: 9.5k of fluff and angst and Ominis healing from childhood trauma and then about 3.5k of smut. Breeding kink but like- it’s sweet I swear. Maybe a bit of cockwarming thrown in there (Sorry, Jesus. I’ll repent later). Minors DNI!

.🍼🌿🍼

Y/N,

I hate to do this while business is booming for you, or should I say blooming? Sorry. I need a bit of humor whenever I can get it. Anne is not doing well since having the baby. She’s been on bed rest and she’s a complete mess. I can imagine you ridiculing me, but I am allowed to say such things. She is my twin after all.

Her husband still isn’t back from that work trip. My wife has been asking around the Ministry for me, but no one knows anything. He wouldn’t have missed the birth of their daughter. And she’s four days old now, the cutest thing, by the way. She's starting to look just like Anne’s baby photos.

Anyway, I’m getting off track here. Sorry if this letter is scattered. I’ve got all four of my kids here with me. Their mother has to work while I’m taking off time to look after Anne. Obviously, someone has to earn money for the abundance of school robes we’ll be paying for in the very near future. They can’t be home alone with the youngest being only one. He’s walking now! Have I told you yet? Well, standing and wobbling. He’s getting there. Gonna be the next Slytherin Quidditch Captain in no time.

All this is to say, I need some help here with Anne. Helping her and taking care of her newborn is a two-person job. My kids make it a three-person job. I’m drowning a bit in diapers and screams and tears. Think everyone here has had a tantrum today alone, including me.

Needing your help desperately, my dear sister-in-law of mine. Don’t let Ominis roll his eyes when you read him that bit. He is my brother, blood be damned.

Sincerely,

Your Most Handsome Brother-in-law

S.S.

P!S! Please for the love of Merlin, bring washcloths. Between everything I’m trying to keep up with laundry and it’s simply impossible.

You glanced over the top of the letter once you were done reading it aloud. Contrary to Sebastian’s predictions, Ominis was not rolling his eyes. In fact, he looked forlorn and pale. Not only was he worried about Anne’s safety considering her poor condition after having the child, but he was no doubt worrying about Anne’s husband who was actually quite a lovely bloke. He fit in just right with Anne and Sebastian, and he very quickly grew on Ominis despite his attempts to keep the jokester at bay. In his eyes, Ominis had enough of that energy with Sebastian and Anne, who had been handling her curse greatly in the last few years and was back to her wild self, until the pregnancy complications that is.

What Ominis refused to acknowledge was that Anne’s husband didn’t have the mischief or malice of Sebastian and Anne. He was just a golden, loveable, arguably dopey guy. His love for Anne was so pure. He bawled multiple times on their wedding day. Being gone for so long during the latter days of Anne’s pregnancy was unlike him. And to miss the birth of his firstborn child, and likely their only considering the complications, was beyond excusable. Not that he would even try to excuse it because he was truly that honest of a man!

And then there was Anne, the most heartbreaking part of the letter. The doctors had her on bed rest seemingly indefinitely. She spent the last two months of her pregnancy in that dreary bedroom. When her husband was forced onto his work trip a week and a half ago, you closed up your magical plant shop and stayed by her side until the baby was born. A girl. She was born healthy with the cutest button nose. You held her for hours after she was born while the healers and Sebastian all huddled around Anne in worry.

Once Anne was safe and resting, Sebastian had tiredly collapsed on the couch next to you. You hadn’t seen him that exhausted since you were teens still in school, causing mayhem that affected yourselves more than others. His wife had been watching over all four of their kids all day so that Sebastian could spend that moment with his twin. You put the baby girl in her uncle’s arms and the two fell right asleep just like that.

It had only been a few days, but you were wanting so desperately to get back to the little girl. And while Sebastian’s kids were a handful, to say the very least, you wanted to see them as well. You had done your fair share of babysitting those mongrels, so they were quite attached to you. Their obsession with you and inclination to always come visit and run up and down the hall of your home was actually welcomed, as crazy as that sounded.

By the time you realized you loved children and wanted some of your own, you were already deeply devoted to Ominis. Because of his past, he wasn’t too enthusiastic about having children of his own. That was fine. Sebastian seemed set on having plenty for everyone.

Ominis stood from his velvet armchair and announced, “I’ll grab the washcloths.”

“Ominis, you do not have to go.”

He had stopped in the middle of the hall to ponder it. His head shook in disapproval. “I’m going to look after Anne. You’ll look after the baby. Sebastian will pack up the Quidditch team and head home so that Anne can rest in a peaceful house. Does that sound like a plan?”

You met him in the hallway and took his hands in yours. Butterfly-soft kisses were left on his knuckles. You spoke firmly and slowly to make your point. “You do not have to go with me to Anne’s. I can take care of both. It’s okay.”

“Don’t insult me,” Ominis insisted with a harsh whisper. “I won’t faint at the sight of a child, and if Anne needs me, I will be by her side. She is my sister.”

You chuckle, lightening the room for a moment, “Oh, so Anne is your sister, but you can’t admit Sebastian is your brother.”

“That’s because Anne is my sister through and through, but Sebastian can’t just claim such a title just because his kids call you Auntie. Such a thing has to be earned! Bestowed upon!”

“Okay, okay,” you giggled and smoothed his shirt across his shoulders to calm him. “You know he only says it at this point because it gets a rise out of you. And perhaps that’s why I bring it up too. You’re cute when you go red.”

“Oh, well thank you for adding to the stress,” Ominis shortly huffed in annoyance then turned to the bathroom to grab your house’s supply of washcloths.

Usually, he went along with your playful tones unless he was really out of sorts. You frown and follow right at his heels into the bathroom. “Sweetheart, we are all stressed. I’m sorry to make light of things in such dark times, but you always say you enjoy my light. I’m only trying to help you feel better.”

“I know. But right now-“ Ominis pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can I just be alone for a moment? Why don’t you go pack up those strawberries for Sebastian’s kids? You know we won’t finish them before they go bad if they stay in our kitchen.”

With your head hung low, you trudged to the kitchen and began to ransack your cupboards for potential meals. If things were really as bad as Sebastian made them seem, he likely didn’t have time to cook properly for the kids, Anne, and even himself. A few sandwiches and the berries would make a healthy enough lunch. If Ominis was truly planning to go with you, Sebastian really could head home for a break like Ominis suggested. Sebastian could no doubt figure out dinner for his kids at his own home with the stress of Anne and the newborn off his shoulders.

“I’m sorry for snapping,” that was Ominis leaning against the doorframe to your tiny kitchen. He looked exhausted as though he fought some great battle during his moments of solitude in the bathroom. He hated this side of himself, the one that could be so cruel. With his history and his trauma from his childhood, you didn’t ever fault him for being triggered.

The entire friend group was blissful until Sebastian started having kids with his wife, which was only a year or two into having your adult jobs after graduating from Hogwarts. Ominis had gotten used to them, slightly, but now with Anne having a child, he felt like he couldn’t turn in any direction without feeling an immense guilt.

“That was hardly snapping,” you kept up your light tone. It wasn’t an act. You really weren’t fazed by his behavior. These were stressful times for everyone. “You’ve bitten me before, so I think I got off a bit lucky this time.”

His cheeks turned a light shade of pink. After all these years, you could still fluster him. It was actually one of your favorite pastimes. How much teasing could Ominis handle? You were always itching to find out.

“That- that was one time. And you- you said you liked it,” Ominis straightened from his lean against the doorframe as he stammered on, “And that was different.”

“I did like it,” you reassured him. Memories of that night fluttered back. The sting in your shoulder. The cold from the blood dripping down. Tasting metallic on his lips afterward… “Maybe if you would bite me more, I wouldn’t have to keep pressing your buttons to see which one ignites that side of you.”

Ominis rubbed his face as though he was tired of your antics, but his cheeks turning a deeper shade, nearly all red now, told you all you needed to know. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“Didn’t I just admit to doing it on purpose?”

Ominis could hear the knife come out into the cutting board. He tilted his head. “What have you been up to in here? Thought you were going to grab the strawberries.”

“Sandwiches for everyone. Doubt Sebastian has had time to make lunch yet. I’d rather make them here than amid whatever chaos is happening there.”

Then Ominis was behind you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder to map out where you were. It glided down to the small of your back and then snakes around the front, his other joining as his body pressed into yours from behind. His chin rested on your shoulder. His chest rumbled against your back as he spoke, “Forgive me for taking my stress out on you?”

“You hardly said anything, Ominis. There is nothing to forgive.”

His lips pressed right at the back of your jaw where it met your ear. “Maybe I’m asking in advance for tonight.” Then his mouth opened. His teeth grazed your skin so lightly you thought you imagined it. And then, rather evilly in your opinion, Ominis stepped back and released his hold on you. “Hurry up with those sandwiches. I’m going to handle a few things before the trip, but I’ll be waiting by the fireplace to floo by the time you are done in here.”

Sure enough, your husband was waiting for you patiently at your fireplace after you finished packaging up the lunches. He held out a hand to steady you as you stepped up on the brick, hardly a necessary gesture, but he was being extra sweet with you while he still could.

“I put a closed sign out on the shop,” he sounded almost formal about it.

“Thank you,” you breathed out in gratitude, “I completely forgot.”

“That Alihotsy is getting a bit big for the nursery. It’s extending across the walkway. Startled me for a second.”

“Sorry. Yes. That fellow from Honeydukes is meant to come by sometime this week for it. I’ll have to write him to explain that we are looking after Anne. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if we dropped it by late at night on his doorstep?”

“Maybe tomorrow night. We’ll be too tired after this.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “You always talk me into being lazy with you. Promise you won’t talk me out of it tomorrow too?”

“I would like its leaves out of the walking path, so I promise, tomorrow night we can take it to him. I won’t drag you to bed too early.”

“But I do look forward to ending up in bed with you after.” And with that, you threw down the floo power and were transported to Anne’s bungalow in Feldcroft. Upon entering, the first thing you noticed was the noise. There was a baby crying, kids screaming, and footsteps pounding around on the hardwood floor.

“I said to get that thing out of here!” That was Sebastian, sounding exasperated.

“I can’t catch it!” His oldest child, who was seven going into eight now, whined back.

“Then chase it out the door! It can’t be in here. It- oh! Y/N. Thank Merlin you’re here. Popped in at an awful time. Sorry for the mess.” Sebastian, while cradling his youngest in his arms, a baby who was about a year old now, kicked a few toys out of the way so you could step off the edge of the fireplace.

“Auntie Y/N!” Three children trapped you with hugs from all around. Then behind you, Ominis popped up in the fireplace and the three were rushing to embrace him as well.

You chuckled and put a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder to ask, “Seb, why is there a chicken on the couch.”

“It’s on the-?” Sebastian turned and started to wave the brown chicken off of his sister’s couch. “Shoo! Shoo! You are lucky I haven’t cooked you yet!”

You rolled your eyes and pulled out your wand. “Levioso. Accio.” The brown chicken squirmed in your arm, but you held it at your hip and then turned to the three kids with an eyebrow raised. “Who brought a chicken in the house while Auntie Anne isn’t feeling well?”

None of the kids said a word, but the two oldest shoved each other while they all stared at the floor in shame. You sighed and said, “If you go and collect all the toys in the house and put them in the diaper bag, I will give you the surprise I brought.”

The kids lit up. Their guilt long forgotten.

“A surprise?!”

“What is it?”

“Ah, ah, ah. Pick up your toys first.” Then the three of them were off collecting the messing they made and putting it in their youngest sibling’s enchanted diaper bag.

You put the chicken in the backyard and came back to see Sebastian and Ominis having a chat on the couch while the baby while trying to pull itself up on the side to join in. Ominis flinched when the baby grabbed his pant leg. You were quick to dive down and pick the little one up, grunting as you did so.

“My oh my, you have gotten big! What are they feeding you? Rocks?”

“That one’s gonna win the World Cup. I just know it. Gonna be the best Beater there is.” Sebastian played with the baby’s chunky ankles while you held it. It cooed back at him as if it understood and agreed.

You laughed and moved the baby to your hip to then use your free hand to touch Ominis’s shoulder. “You wanna go check on Anne while we set up the picnic for the kids outside?”

Ominis nodded and stood up to leave. He seemed thankful to have an excuse not to join the chaotic lunch plans.

Sebastian smiled wide. “Am I hearing this right? You brought lunch?”

“Just some sandwiches and strawberries. Figured you hadn’t had the time.”

With an exasperated sigh, Sebastian leaned his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. “You thought right. It’s been… a lot. The baby is sleeping now, I mean, the other baby, the newborn, Anne’s baby.” Sebastian paused for a second then whispered, “That’s still so crazy for me to say. I’m so happy for her.”

“You and your cousin are going to be the best of friends!” You told the one-year-old on your hip. So close in age. How fun! They’ll only be a year apart at Hogwarts. Bet they’ll get into even more trouble than we did.”

Sebastian covered his face and groaned. “Merlin, don’t say that. They already make me crazy as it is. Can’t imagine how I’d handle them being as wild as us.”

“Sebastian, there was a chicken on the couch when I got here. You may want to mentally prepare yourself for all sorts of Hogwarts shenanigans.”

Meanwhile, Ominis was knocking on Anne’s bedroom door and waiting to hear her voice before letting himself in. Sebastian’s kids were still being rather loud, but the decibel levels had greatly depleted. Ominis shut the door gently, but firmly, hoping to trap out any further noise. Their little feet could still be heard scampering about the echoey wooden floors as they searched for their abundance of toys to put away.

“Thought you two must have arrived,” Anne sounded exhausted. Ominis’s heart immediately ripped in two. He hadn’t heard her voice so raspy since they were teens. Anne had mostly healed from her curse. At around the ten-year mark, she decided she wanted to try for a child. She and her husband were happy and head over heels in love. They just wanted one child to share the love with. The risk was great with Anne’s past, but she didn’t want some retched curse to stop her from living her life the way she dreamed.

“And it was a good thing we did. Sebastian’s kids were terrorizing your home.”

Anne laughed at that, though it was quiet and airy. “They are just playing, Ominis. That’s why kids do. Not a dull day around here lately, that’s for sure.”

“Still, I’m sure you could rest better if it was quiet.” Ominis took a step to the right, meaning to meet her at her bedside.

“Wait-,” Anne croaked out, causing Ominis to freeze. “The bassinet is on this side. Come around to the other.”

Oh, right. Ominis swallowed thickly. He had forgotten about Anne’s baby for a moment. The room was so peaceful. It was hard to believe a child was in here with them. “Right, sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, Min,” Anne reassured as Ominis walked around to the other side of the bed. “Just didn’t want to bump into it and wake her. She’ll be hungry when she wakes up.” Which was Anne’s way of gently warning him that the baby was probably going to cry for food soon that way he didn’t panic when he heard it.

Ominis cautiously sat on the side of Anne’s bed and asked, “Anything I can get for you? I’m here to look out for you, and Y/N is going to look out for the baby once she feeds Sebastian and the kids and sends them home.”

“Honestly, I was dying of boredom before you came in. Just you being here is enough.” Anne placed her hand over Ominis’s and squeezed. “And how is my Y/N doing? How’s the shop coming along?”

There was a thankful sigh of relief from Ominis’s lips at the subject change. He could talk about you and the shop for hours. “We’re loving it. She put me to work though with all the upkeep. I’m regretting cutting back my hours at the Ministry. At least they didn’t make me sweep.”

Anne’s soft chuckle sounded much closer to her normal self this time. Ominis let some of the tension in his shoulders release from knowing Anne wasn’t feeling too much pain at the moment.

“You know, they would take you back full-time in a heartbeat if you offered.”

“No, no,” Ominis quickly backtracked with a smile, “No, trust me, being at the shop is a walk in the park in comparison to the Ministry’s paperwork. The half of my week there is like a vacation. Besides, it’s right next door to the house. No travel sickness. And the greenhouse smells lovely. Much better to work in than those dingy offices.”

“Hey now, don’t talk bad on those dingy offices. I can’t wait to get back to them in a few weeks. I’ve already planned on how to reorganize mine. Bit of spring cleaning.”

Whatever was going on with Anne, Ominis had assumed it was to do with the curse. Hearing her so confidently say she would be back to work soon made Ominis tilt his head in confusion. Was she being her stubborn self, or were things not as bad as Sebastian’s letter made it seem. It was always hard to tell with the twins. Anne played everything off as fine, but Sebastian acted like Anne’s paper cuts were life-threatening.

“Planning to get back there so soon? Well, don’t strain yourself. The office will still be just as meek and dusty no matter how long you wait.”

“Suppose so. Might be nice to spend some extra time just with her.” Ominis couldn’t see it, of course, but he knew Anne was referring to the baby in the bassinet on the other side of the bed.

There was a soft knock on the door, and with Anne’s approval, you cracked the door open just enough to peek your head in. “Up for a few visitors? The kids want to say goodbye one by one. I’m including Sebastian in that category too, of course.”

“Hey!” Could slightly be heard from the hallway.

Then, one at a time, you allowed the kids to give their Auntie Anne a kiss goodbye. Lastly, Sebastian went in with his youngest in his arms. Anne chuckled at the red stains on the baby’s hands and shirt from the strawberries. She could picture how it probably mashed the berry in its hand before shoving it in its mouth and likely missing its mouth entirely so that the strawberry ended up mostly on the ground. Her heart tinged a bit. She wished she could have joined them for lunch and not been forced to stay in her tiny bedroom.

“Get some rest,” Sebastian mumbled as he kissed her forehead.

“You too,” Anne replied. “Thank you for looking out for me these past couple of days, but go home and relax. Ominis and Y/N will take good care of us here.”

Then Ominis felt a hand on his shoulder. By the way it lightly massaged him, he instantly knew it was his wife. She leaned in close to whisper to him, “I’m going to walk Seb and the kids home to make sure none of them wander off. They’re a bit ornery today. Will you be okay without me?”

A pang of guilt stabbed him in the stomach. Ominis hated that he was the one you were worried about leaving while Anne was quite literally bedridden. It was embarrassing that you felt as though you needed to check in with him before taking a quick walk just a few houses down to Sebastian’s place. His…affinity to kids was bad, he knew that, he knew that you knew that and that’s why you were being overly protective. Still, it hurt his ego just a bit.

“Take your time. We’ll be okay here,” Ominis whispered back, trying his best not to sound short. If there was any uneasiness in his tone, he knew you would drop everything to comfort him. That couldn’t happen now. Sebastian might have needed your help walking the kids back, but Ominis knew that it was partially an excuse on your part to spend more time with them. He didn’t want to take that from you.

The baby, well, Anne’s baby was sleeping anyway. Sebastian’s was blowing raspberries while Anne was cooing a goodbye to it.

He waited until he heard the front door close to admit to Anne, “You asked how she’s doing… I don’t think she’s happy.”

“With the store?” There was a hint of terror in her voice as if Anne feared it was something worse.

After a moment of silence, Ominis shook his head no. “I can tell she wants more. She grew up in a big family and then Hogwarts was always just as loud and chaotic. At first, I think she appreciated the peace and quiet after we got our house, but lately… Lately, I wake up in the middle of the night and she’s gone. She goes and falls asleep by the gramophone in the living room as if she needs the noise for comfort.”

A gentle hand touched his shoulder as Anne said, “Oh, Ominis…”

“I think she would be happier if she were with someone that could provide what she wanted, but she’d never admit that.”

“No, she wouldn’t. I know you can’t see the way she looks at you, but you’re her world. Don’t ever even suggest such a thing to her. It would shatter her. She is happy with you, just you. We’ve talked about it before, she and I. She is content with being an aunt to Sebastian’s kids, and now my girl. Please don’t worry over this in the slightest.”

Anne’s comfort eased his pain, but the guilt of it all still weighed him down. They chatted for a while about Sebastian’s wife and her exciting job until you made it back to the house. You leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom and listened to the two old friends talk for a while before interrupting, “Do you want to have a bath while I change your sheets for you, Anne?”

“Is that your way of saying I smell?”

“Your hair is a bit of a mess,” you joked as you walked up to her side of the bed and gently moved the bassinet so that you could help Anne up.

At the sound of shuffling and Anne wincing, Ominis offered, “Do you want me to-“

“It’s alright,” you said, suspiciously quick. “Us girls have got this. I’ll just set Anne up in the bath. Do you want to start removing the blankets?”

Ominis stood from the bed and started to remove the covers at your request, albeit a bit reluctantly due to his confusion and frustration. Why didn’t you let him carry Anne to the bathroom? It wasn’t like the intimacy mattered. He couldn’t see.

Wordlessly, he carried the laundry to the back porch and then felt through the linen closet for another set. The two of you met back in Anne’s room at the same time. You kissed his cheek and took the fitted sheet from him to start unfolding it. That was the only covering you managed to get on before the baby stirred in the bassinet. It started to cry out, loud and demanding. Ominis flinched and clutched the blanket he was holding while you scooped the baby up in your arms.

“Oh, that sounds like a hungry cry,” Your voice was soft and unfazed by the cries. “Come on. To the kitchen, we go. I’m going to show your Uncle Omi how to make a bottle for you.”

Ominis tensed at that. “Why? I thought we agreed that I take care of Anne and you take care of…her.”

“If we really are going to be here the next few days helping out, you might as well learn.” You didn’t say anything more as you headed to the kitchen. It was up to Ominis whether or not he followed.

And follow he did with a heavy sigh. Anne’s kitchen was far more spacious than your own. He still hadn’t mapped out where everything was since it all seemed to spread apart. There was even room under the south-facing window for a breakfast nook area that had the perfect view of Feldcroft. You stared out at it wistfully. Down the way a bit, you could make out Sebastian’s two oldest digging away in their front yard. They had told you on the walk back that they had been trying to dig to the center of the earth. You had laughed and told them they would need a pretty long ladder, but you didn’t discourage their determination.

“Do you want to hold her while I grab the-“

“Just tell me where it is,” Ominis insisted, sounding a bit exasperated. His heated tone made you giggle. When you first met him, he used to always be on edge like this. There was a cold exterior about him that was snappy and sarcastic. In his defense, Sebastian was putting him through a lot at the time with his unforgiving plight to find a cure for Anne. But you didn’t mind it then just like you didn’t mind it now. Ominis was complicated, and that’s what drew you in.

“A step forward and to your left. Should be a cylinder tin on the second shelf of the cupboard.” Your direction was easy to understand and deeply appreciated.

Sometimes at work with the Ministry, Ominis would ask something like, “Which one?” Only for his coworker to inevitably reply something stupid like, “The green one.” He never had to prod you for more information. If only he could bring you everywhere to direct him like this. Though, maybe not while you held a crying baby in your arms.

“I’m putting an empty bottle right beside the tin here. But first, we need to set up the kettle.”

“Are we making tea for Anne?” This he was familiar with even in Anne’s kitchen. Ominis made quick work of taking the kettle from the stove and filling it in the sink.

“Just heating up the water a bit. Not too hot. I’ll show you how to check the temperature after we’re done. While that’s heating, you can measure the power. There should already be a scooper in the tin. Two scoops should be plenty. She’s still so tiny.” You took a moment to admire the baby girl in your arms. She really was the spitting image of Anne.

While you rocked her to soothe her cries, Ominis poured two scoops of the formula into the bottle and tried not to grimace at the sour smell of it. Now he understood why babies smelled the way they did. It was a mix of this awful powdered milk and the starchiness of baby powder. Very off-putting and unpleasant.

“Water should be warm enough now. I’ll tell you when to stop pouring. Go slow,” you directed. You stopped him just at just a quarter full and reached to touch the bottle to feel how hot the water was. “Just a splash of cold water and that should be perfect.” Ominis brought the bottle to the sink and literally just let the smallest splash into it. You giggled and prompted, “Okay, maybe two splashes.”

Next, you handed him a clean top for the bottle which he took a moment to stir on straight then asked, “Are we done here?” in a very bored tone.

You smiled as you shook your head and clicked your tongue. “Always so impatient, my love. The powder needs to be mixed in. You’ll have to shake the bottle and-“ Ominis started shaking the bottle immediately, wanting to get this over with. Formula sprayed out of the nipple and got on the kitchen floor, Ominis’s hair, and your face. He froze, realizing his mistake.

Your laughter was so intense that you doubled over, clutching the baby to your chest so that you wouldn’t drop her during your fit. Ominis was blushing, but the sound of your laughter made him smile sheepishly.

“I am an idiot,” he proclaimed.

“Yes, yes your are. You have to cover the tip of the nipple.”

“Excuse me?” Ominis sounded almost offended. You laughed harder, not being able to take much more of this.

“That’s what the rubber part of the top of the bottle is called! It’s not like I came up with it!” After taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you reached over and placed Ominis’s finger over the tip of the bottle. “Okay, now you can shake it without making it rain indoors.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled shyly.

“I love you,” you answered.

Once the formula was mixed up, it was time to test the temperature. “This part is simple. Hold out your wrist,” you told him. When he did, you guided his hand that was holding the bottle to dab the slightest bit of formula on his inner wrist. “Do you feel that?”

A flash of uncertainty washed over his features. “Yes, but how do I know if it’s right?”

You held out your wrist, lighting bumping it to his so he knew where you were. “Let me feel and I’ll tell you.”

The fingers of his free hand drifted across the palm of your open one, acting as if he wasn’t sure where your wrist was. You had a smug smile knowing it was all for show. You had made your movements very clear. He only wanted to touch your hand, but you weren’t about to call him out on that. The bottle dipped to let a drip fall on your wrist. It was like warm. Not too cold that the powder didn’t mix in properly, and not too hot that it would hurt the baby.

“This is perfect. You want to test it on your wrist again so you can remember this temperature for next time?”

He snorted and insisted there wouldn’t be a next time, but he tested the formula on his wrist once more and looked rather deep in thought as if trying to memorize the feeling. You kissed his cheek and thanked him while taking the bottle. A weight lifted off Ominis’s shoulders when the baby stopped crying in your arms. He let out a heavy sigh.

“Glad that’s over.”

“Well, get used to it because it’ll probably happen every four hours or so.”

That statement did not spark joy for Ominis, but you hadn’t been trying to. It was the truth. This was the reality of helping out Anne right now: a crying newborn.

“Let’s go check on Anne in the bath.” Now that was a statement Ominis didn’t mind. You followed him down the hallway and stood at his side while he knocked on the bathroom door.

“How are you doing, Annie?” He asked in a soft tone.

“Just fine, Min! I’ll be getting out soon. How’s the baby?”

“Ominis made her a bottle!” You cut in proudly.

Anne paused a moment then asked, “‘S it poisoned?”

Ominis rolled his eyes while you responded, “No! I watched him like a hawk. I promise! He did great!”

Anne’s laughter echoed in the bathroom. “Well, then thank you, Ominis!”

In the living room, you nestled in on the couch, using the armrest to support your elbow. Holding the baby in the kitchen that whole time had made you ache. She wasn’t heavy either, maybe six pounds at the most. You couldn’t fathom how Sebastian held his youngest all day. That baby was huge!

“Anything I can get you?” Ominis was hovering over you from behind the couch. His hand was resting on the back of it and his fingers were reaching up to brush your shoulder. It was clear he wanted to touch you, but you were holding a baby and that terrified him.

“Maybe turn on a bit of music? There’s a very fancy-looking phonograph sitting in the far corner on your left. It’s begging to be played.”

Your wish seemed to be his command. Ominis brought out his wand and used his sensing charm before pointing it precisely at the phonograph. The needle reset itself on the record and began to play a beautiful sonata. It started out with a feathery light piano that was quickly joined by a set of strings. You weren’t well versed enough in muggle music to know if it was a violin or cello, but its tender tones took the lead of the song while the piano supported the beat and background. There was just a hint of a wind instrument harmonizing with the main melody of the strings. It wasn’t prominent enough to tell if it was a flute, or perhaps a panpipe…

“Come sit by me,” you requested dreamily.

With the music and the airy sound of your voice, Ominis was lost in the moment. He kissed the top of your head then walked around the front of the couch to be next to you. The string instrument started to swell. His hand rested on your knee as he sat down and immediately inched higher and higher until his forearm bumped your elbow and he briefly wondered why your elbow was sticking out like that.

Reality came hurtling back like a bludger. His hand jolted off you as if your skin burned him. He had forgotten about the baby being fed in your arms.

Ominis hoped you hadn’t even noticed his slip up, that you were too lost in feeding the child. With the way you were talking to it, Ominis felt as though he was in the clear. You were commenting on how the baby’s hand was curling around your ring finger. It seemed to like the smooth texture of your wedding band.

“You trying to steal my ring, little one? Four days old and your mommy has already trained you to be her little niffler? Well, I’m very sorry. You can’t have my wedding ring. I love it too much. You can have your own if you choose to get married one day.”

“Anna and Sebastian are probably competing to see who can have the most mischievous child,” Ominis said mostly to himself since he assumed you were lost in your own little world.

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” you joked in return. “And you can put your hand on my thigh if you would like. It is not going to offend the baby.”

Sometimes he hated how in tune you were with him. Ominis put a hand back just below your knee and squeezed to show his annoyance with you, a move he often did to fluster you and keep your teasing mouth quiet.

The move was not working out in his favor while you were holding the baby, however. You gossiped to her, “Oh, Uncle Ominis is mad at me for some reason. I’m in such big trouble. He’s got the grumpy pout. I think he’s feeling a bit bashful that I called him out, what do you think?”

A loud thud sounded from the bathroom. Ominis was standing in a flash. You dropped the bottle beside you on the couch to grab him by the shirt, insisting, “You take the baby! I’ll go get her!”

A look of annoyance washed over Ominis's face and he defied your request, “Are you insane? Just let me-“

“She’s going to want it to be me, not you.”

For the first time since your school days, he bitterly reminded you, “I’m blind! It’s not like I’ll see anything!”

You were standing now, matching his volume. “She’ll just want a woman there that understands-“

“I’ve known her a lot longer than you have! She’s a sister to me, I understand her perfectly! She-“

“She’s still bleeding,” you whispered through your teeth, “You know, down there. That’s why she’s been on bed rest. They had to give her muggle stitches.”

Ominis paled and swallowed quickly. He had assumed Anne was hurting from the curse. The last thing on his mind was average birthing complications. “Oh.”

“Sit down on the couch and put your elbow on the armrest,” you insisted in a very angry tone that you only ever used on Sebastian when he was stepping out of line, which was very, very rare these days. Hearing you so angry sent a shiver down Ominis’s spine. He sat, but panic was bubbling to his surface when he realized why you told him to put his elbow on the armrest.

“My love, please, I’m sorry, I can’t- Don’t make me-“

“It’s a newborn, Ominis! She isn’t going to remember this moment! You can’t possibly do anything wrong. Just feed her the rest of the bottle!” Your screaming made Ominis snap his mouth shut.

You leaned down and put the baby, who was now crying from her bottle being ripped from her and all the commotion, into his arms with a gentleness that shocked Ominis. How you went from screaming at him to carefully making sure the baby’s head was supported on his arm just right, he would never know. The bottle was picked up from where it had rolled to the other side of the couch and put firmly in Ominis’s hand with a bit more fire to your placement this time around.

“Feed her. She can’t cry if there is a bottle in her mouth. Relax your shoulders. I’ll only be gone a minute.”

Then your footsteps were fading. Ominis couldn’t stop his entire body from shaking. The baby was still crying, and although the only other sound in the house was the soft piano and strings coming from the phonograph, Ominis was overwhelmed to the point of shock. The baby weighed in his arms, but not nearly as much as he expected it to. He had held Sebastian’s firstborn twice: once when it was a month old and then one other time when it had just started crawling. Sebastian’s baby was never as feather-light as the dainty little thing crying in his arms now. It didn’t even stretch across Ominis’s chest. Tiny little feet were kicking his right arm that had been white-knuckling the bottle. They were covered in fuzzy knit socks that felt soft and plush against his arm with each weak kick.

The baby seemed to kick some sense into Ominis because he realized it would stop crying if he would just hurry up and give it the bottle. At first, he tried placing it in the baby’s flailing hands, but it wouldn’t take it from him. Was holding a bottle not something babies could do for themselves? He was pretty sure Sebastian was able to hand his youngest a bottle and walk away. Why didn’t this one know what to do?!

Ominis was ready to give up, but he didn’t know how to move the baby properly or where to put it even if he had the nerve. The couch? Would it roll off? The floor? Surely that wasn’t appropriate.

“Fine! Fine,” Ominis grumbled. He set the bottle between his legs and then hesitantly touched the baby's chest and glided up to feel where its mouth was. The thing was so tiny, and even though Ominis was holding it, he still expected it to take longer to find its mouth. But before he could pull away, the baby sucked his pointer finger in and bit down. It might have not had any teeth, but its gums were still brutal!

“Ow!” Ominis hissed and yanked his finger away from the little gremlin. He shook his hand with a dramatic flair to lessen the hurt. The baby went right back to crying. “That was uncalled for.”

Finally, Ominis was able to get the bottle in the baby’s mouth. There was an annoying squeak from it sucking on the rubber, but other than that the living room had turned back to its peaceful state. The record on the phonograph was playing a more upbeat tune. All was well.

Meanwhile, you had sprinted into the bathroom panicked and breathing heavily. Anne was lying on her back near the sink, about a meter from the tub.

“Anne!” You gasped and hurried over to her.

“Oh, hey,” Anne laughed lightly, not acting injured in the slightest. “How was your domestic disagreement? I have never heard you two argue like that. It was quite entertaining.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Mostly just embarrassed. I slipped while I was brushing my teeth. Wasn’t even walking or anything, just tumbled over for no reason. Held onto the sink though, so it wasn’t too bad.”

“You need help up?”

“Yeah. My hip is pretty sore, as if it wasn’t bad enough down there already,” Anne always kept a light tone to not worry others. You understood the sentiment. She didn’t want to be treated like a child or hovered over. Sebastian used to do that to her constantly, he had gotten a lot calmer over the years, but Anne hadn’t learned to get rid of her coping mechanisms yet.

“Let me dry the floor then I’ll help you up. Looks like a hurricane happened in here. Were you playing with the bath bubbles?” You joked to put her at ease.

She sighed gratefully for your calm nature. “Maybe. It had been a while since I’ve had a bubble bath. Might have got a bit carried away.”

You dramatically dragged a towel along the floor at the edge of the tub and asked, “A bit?”

It took some patience, but you managed to get Anne to her bed. There was still only the fitted sheet in place, so you added the bedding around her and made a point to tuck her in so tight that she couldn’t even wiggle. She shoved your hands away, laughing at your antics. The two of you chatted for a bit about your new plant shop and whether or not you missed working at the Ministry.

In the living room, the light squeaking of the bottle stopped. Ominis frowned in confusion. He could feel that there was still a bit of liquid sloshing around in the glass. Would the baby start crying again? Why had it stopped eating? Fearing the worst, he set the bottle down on the couch beside him and then leaned his ear in close to make sure the baby was still breathing. He placed his hand over its chest to feel the rise and fall. The tip of his middle finger touched its chin and the bottom of his hand was over its stomach. How could something be so small?

The baby’s hands latched onto his, one grabbing his thumb and the other his pinky, holding Ominis against its chest. Ominis blushed at the contact. The hands were soft and oh, so tiny. It could hardly clasp his thumb properly. Its breathing started to slow. The record on the phonograph came to an end, leaving a soft scratching sound to fill the room.

“Alright then,” his voice was but a whisper so that he wouldn’t disrupt the tranquil atmosphere of the room. Having his hand cradled like that made his heart clench tightly and painfully. The baby’s little cotton clothes were slightly wet around its neck from the formula, but other than that, Ominis didn’t mind that his hand was trapped.

His own breathing started to slow for the first time since arriving at Anne’s place.

A few moments later, you had been sent by Anne to collect her child. She wanted to snuggle with the baby while they both had a nap. The fiasco in the bathroom had worn her out.

The last thing you expected to see was a soft smile on Ominis’s lips while he seemed to be resting. The baby was pulled in close to his chest and was clutching into Ominis’s hand. They both looked fast asleep. The sight filled you with warmth. Your eyes softened, and you nearly wanted to shed a tear. Instead of disrupting them right away, you turned off the phonograph that had been playing nothing and washed the unfinished bottle in the kitchen sink.

When it came time to finally collect the baby from Ominis, you felt slightly guilty for dragging it out for so long. He just looked so precious holding a child. It was doing things to you, making you yearn for things you had sworn off thinking about.

With the utmost care, you reached to scoop the baby out of Ominis’s arms. His left arm tightened around the child, drawing her closer to his chest.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

That was…odd. Was he talking in his sleep? You couldn’t recall Ominis ever doing such a thing.

“It’s just me, love. I’ve come to relieve you from your babysitting duties. Sorry it took me so long.”

You tried going in for the exchange again, but Ominis insisted, “Just another moment, please. Just one moment.” His voice was breaking. It was clear now he hadn’t been sleeping at all to begin with because a tear escaped from the corner of his eye. It had been quite some time since you had seen Ominis in such a fragile state. When he would open up about his family and his childhood, sometimes he would get quiet like this. In those times, he had held onto you like you were driftwood in an ocean of terror he was drowning in. The way he was cradling the baby so close to his chest now meant he was anchoring to her at this moment. You couldn’t bring yourself to take her from him, even if the baby’s young mother was wanting to see her.

The only thing you could do was sit beside him on the couch. Your head rested on his shoulder and your hand rubbed in soft patterns across his arm. A few moments later, you had to tell him, “Anne sent me to collect the baby.”

Ominis nodded and softly said, “We shouldn’t keep her waiting any longer then. You can- you can take her now.”

There was a tense static in the room. The last thing you wanted to do was end this moment. Even with Sebastian’s for at born, Ominis had never asked to hold them, let alone hold them longer the few times he had been forced to.

“Why don’t you just carry her to the bedroom for me, hm?”

That was not what Ominis wanted to hear. His eyes widened with fear. “I can’t I- I don’t know how to.”

“It’ll be alright,” you were already adjusting his left arm so that he was providing better support underneath her as you spoke, “Just support her bum here. You can use your other arm too if you’re unsure. Just bring that one to cover here and- There. Now you’ve got a very good hold on her. After you get up from the couch just put it right back there where I showed you. I’ll lead you to the bedroom. Come along, now.”

Before he had time to come up with an excuse, you were dragging him up from the couch and guiding him to Anne’s room. Usually, he hated being guided places unless the situation was dire or he was in a big crowd. Sometimes people at work would try and guide from around the building. He took a bit of offense to it. If he ever needed a guide, he could just use his wand!

But now he was holding this tiny little thing in his arms, and it was alive and depending on him not to trip or bump into something. Without fighting it, Ominis let you hold his elbow and guide him across Anne’s house to the master bedroom. You had him sit in an armchair in the corner of the room as you joked with Anne, “You said, ‘Bring the baby’, and I wasn’t sure which one so naturally… I brought both.”

“You two look good like that. With her,” Anne commented as you put your hand on Ominis’s shoulder.

You were thankful Ominis couldn’t see your flush or the warning look you gave Anne. Around Ominis, you tried your hardest to avoid the topic of starting a family of your own. Your mother mentioned it every time the two of you visited her. She wanted grandkids. Usually, Anne and Sebastian were safe to converse with because they knew Ominis as well as you did. A comment like that almost felt out of character for Anne, especially since she was so protective of Ominis.

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Ominis replied smoothly.

“Have you burped her yet?”

“Have I what?”

You laughed and patted Ominis on the shoulder. “That can get messy. Why don’t we let Anne do that, hm?”

“I can do it,” he offered quickly. “Just tell me how, and I can do it.”

You draped a towel over his shoulder and directed him to lay the baby against it. It didn’t take long to burp her. Ominis winced at the wet gurgling by his ear and the pungent, sour smell of the formula coming back tenfold. You giggled at his reaction and seemed to be cleaning up the baby’s face so that Ominis could go back to snuggling her.

“I’m glad you two are getting along. I’d hoped you would. After all, she’s named after you.”

A beat of silence dragged by before Ominis was able to ask, “What?”

“My little Minnie. Cute, don’t you think?” Anne smiled softly. “You were always there for me when Sebastian and I had our falling out. I appreciate you and I’m thankful for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Minnie is such a sweet name,” you commented once you realized Ominis was too stunned to respond. “Perfect for this sweet little girl.”

A couple of hours went by while you and Anne chatted. Ominis didn’t move from the armchair with Minnie and never once complained about his arm going numb from holding her.

Went you stood up so go start something for dinner, an Apparation crack sounded from outside. All three of you were alert and tense, wondering who it could be. You brought out your wand and headed to the front door, but it burst open before you had the chance to get there.

“Anne?!” The desperate cry of her husband called through the house. His heavy footsteps sprinted for the bedroom. Blood and scrapes littered his face and his hair and clothes were in disarray and even looked a bit singed. “Are you alright?” He raced to embrace her.

“You’ll have to give her up now, my love,” you whispered in Ominis’s ear while Anne and her husband reunited.

With a heavy sigh, Ominis stood from the armchair and approached the side of the bed Anne’s husband was standing on. He tearfully took Minnie from Ominis then looked at Anne in disbelief.

“She looks just like you.”

Sebastian’s wife was standing in the entryway, looking just as disheveled as Anne’s husband. While you and Ominis left the bedroom to give the new family some privacy, Sebastian’s wife explained, “There was a dragon attack that led to a cave-in. He was trapped for nearly a week.”

“Lucky you were able to find him. You’re amazing, honestly. Are you okay? Do you need anything? The both of you look like you got in a fistfight with the dragon!” You told her.

“Nearly did! Its tail swung at me at one point. It’s been an eventful day. All that’s on my mind is getting home to the kids and Sebastian.”

“We’ll be heading home as well, I think. Stay safe.”

With her gone, you cleaned up a few things around Anne’s house. Ominis tagged along on your cleaning spree, but he was nearly silent while doing so. You worried today might have been too much for him, but you would decide you would wait to check on him until after getting him to the comfort of your own home.

“You can floo first, Ominis! I’ll be right behind you. I’m just going to throw this blanket in the laundry bin.”

He was gone in a smokey, green flash. As promised, you traveled just a moment later. You hardly had a second to focus on the blur of your living room before a pair of hands were haphazardly dragging you forward until a rather demanding set of lips landed over yours. In his defense, Ominis had warned you earlier that day that he would be taking his stress out on you.

“What a lovely welcome home,” you comment when he pulls away, thinking it would end there.

His voice was a bit raspy in your ear, “Tell me what you’ve been wanting, and I’ll give it to you.” And although the sound of his voice was arousing, you could tell he wasn’t talking about anything sexual. There was a pointed annoyance in his tone. The unspoken dream you’ve been trying to keep to yourself secret all these years seemed to be weighing down on the both of you.

“Ominis, I don’t expect that of you. Is this because of what Anne said about us looking good with a baby? She was only teasing, Ominis. You know I would never ask that if you.”

Lips started to trail down your neck, tasting you. Between kisses, Ominis was whispering, “So good to me. Trying to hide her desires. It’s okay. I want it too.”

“What do you mean?” You managed out between gasps. His hands were exploring every inch of your body as if he didn’t already have you memorized. It took all of your willpower to restrain yourself and pull away from him because he seemed as though he was going to continue on without clarifying if you weren’t going to make him.

He groaned as if he was the one losing out on pleasure by you pulling away. “Want it too. Wanna give you a baby,” he whined softly. The words shocked you enough that your hold weakened. Ominis took the opportunity to lean back in, but you put your hands on his shoulders to hold him at bay.

“I think you caught an illness while at Anne’s,” you say in a worried tone. The back of your fingers pressed to his forehead. “Yup, just as I suspected. You have a bad case of baby fever. I think a good night's rest will be just the cure.”

Rolling his eyes at your antics, Ominis insisted, “I’ve thought about this before, and I know you want one. I don’t need sight to know how you feel about Sebastian’s kids. You are always coming up with excuses to be with them longer. It’s okay. I’m not going to be angry if you admit it. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy. I’m happy with you. I don’t need anything more. I would never ask for anything more.”

Ominis rested his forehead against yours. “I know you would never dare to ask. That’s why I’m offering.”

“And you’ll regret offering such things in the morning,” you reminded him.

“No, I won’t.”

“I know holding Minnie was overwhelming for you, but don’t let those new emotions cloud your judgment. You’ve never wanted kids before this. Just think for a moment and-“

“I have thought about it, many times. Maybe I’ve been apprehensive to the idea, but that was before. I thought it wasn’t possible for me to connect with children, that I wouldn’t be able to care for them the way a parent should. I thought I’d be cold and distant like my parents, so I didn’t want to bring a child into this world for them to feel alone and unwanted. But now, with her, I was able to care, to- to…”

“To love?” you offered

“Please say you believe me,” he sounded so lost and broken.

Your hands cupped his cheeks as you wiped away his tears of frustration. “I believe you. I never doubted that you wouldn’t be able to love our child if we had one. I just assumed you didn’t dare to let yourself try because of your parents. I love you, Ominis. Of course I want to have your children. I want them to be just as stubborn, but just as caring as you. I want them to have your sarcastic wit but also your devoted loyalty. It’s something I’ve thought about endlessly, so don’t think I’m turning you down when I ask for you to think on it just a while longer. Let the emotions from today come back down. I’ll make us dinner, we’ll go to bed. Then, whenever you are ready to talk about this, we will.”

Ominis managed to look disappointed but grateful at the same time. “I’ll think on it.”

And think on it he did, or simmer was a closer description. While you were in the kitchen, he pretended to read with his wand. There was a moment of uncertainty when he thought about how holding Minnie had made him feel. Would he be able to connect like that with his own child? But then again, how could he not? His own child would be half you, and he loved every part of you, even the side of you that thought you knew what was best for him by making him sit with his thoughts.

After a while, you brought him a cup of tea and kissed his temple. Ominis mumbled a thank you and continued to pretend to read. He could tell by the way you lingered in the doorway as you left the living room that you had used the tea as an excuse to check in on him. Instead of clueing you into his thoughts, he remained aloof and sipped his tea without showing any emotion positive or negative. The last thing he wanted was to hear you ramble about how he wasn’t in the right headspace to know what he truly wanted.

What he wanted was to be buried deep in you as he came. He wanted to, for once, not ruin his adrenaline rush by pulling out at the last second. He wanted you to have his child. He wanted a family with you, and he didn’t want to waste another second before starting it. This was something he should have done years ago.

“Dinner is ready,” you announced. There was a tremor in your voice as though you were nervous to speak to him. You spent the last thirty minutes hiding in the kitchen and wondering if he was cross with you since he hardly spoke at all when you brought him tea.

“It smells lovely in here.” Ominis played along with you, pretending not to notice your slip-up.

“Thank you. What were you reading?”

“A book that Sebastian’s wife recommended about keeping dragons.”

“That sounds intriguing.”

“It is.”

And that was all you got out of him. Ominis finished his food before you then disappeared to the kitchen to do the dishes while you sat in silence at the dining table. The wine wasn’t strong enough to keep your mind from worrying. How long would things be like this? Usually, Ominis was easy to get through to, so your arguments never lasted long. Would this remain an unspoken thing in your marriage for years to come? Forever?

You tiptoed into the kitchen with your empty plate. Ominis had done most of the dishes except for a single pan and the plate and fork in your hands. Even though you were trying to be as quiet as a mouse, Ominis held his open hand out in your direction and said, “Your plate.”

Reluctantly, you handed him the dirty dish. “Thank you for cleaning.”

“You cooked, so I cleaned. No reason to thank me. It’s only fair.”

“You’re right,” you whispered quietly.

Ominis raised his brow. “What? No comeback? No telling me how wrong I am for not accepting your gratitude? No making me think about it before I decide I want to do the dishes?”

“So you are mad at me!” You said it like it was an accusation. “I knew it. You’re being ridiculous! I’m only asking you to think on this before you decide!”

“You think I haven’t thought about it? Nearly ten years of marriage and you don’t think I fantasize about what it would feel like to hold you while my child is growing inside you?” He dried his hands on a dishrag and then leaned against the counter, looking exasperated. His volume hadn’t matched yours yet. He was holding back.

“You don’t have to do this just because it’s something I want!”

“Just because I’m scared doesn’t mean I don’t want it too!” His yell seemed to echo in the tiny kitchen.

After a second of trying to remind yourself how to breathe, you felt horrible for letting it escalate so far. Hearing Ominis was scared just made you want to comfort him. You spoke softly, “Ominis-“

“No, don’t do that. Don’t pity me and try to comfort me. Don’t use that as an excuse for us not to do this. Either you want us to have a child, or you don’t. I need you to be fully in on this as well. I’ll need you to show me how to make a bottle a few more times, how to change a diaper, and how to hold them properly. I need you to be patient with me, but I don’t want you to pity me. Is that understood?”

“I understand.” His words started to sink in. He seemed satisfied with your agreeability and turned back to the sink to finish the last two dishes. When the water cut off, you were still frozen in the center of your kitchen and trying to figure out if this was all real or a fever dream.

Ominis was humming a melody that had been playing earlier on Anne’s phonograph as he put away the pan he cleaned last. When he passed you by, a hand reached out to touch you. It dragged across your stomach to your hip and squeezed.

“If you are feeling against the idea any sort of way, now might be your last chance to speak up,” he warned, “I won’t be able to hold back tonight with this on my mind.”

“Don’t hold back-“ Was all he needed to hear before you were backed up against the kitchen counter with his lips how and heavy on yours. His approach was usually far more gentle. The two of you could kiss for hours before he’d even cop a feel. Now his hands were unbuttoning your clothes at your waistline and tugging the fabric down with haste.

This is what you’ve been dreaming of. Only a handful of times had Ominis ever devoured you in such a way. Things were more heated when the two of you were younger, exploring each other, and having uncontrollable urges. Since marriage, Ominis had calmed in that sense. You lived together, so he had the ability to take his time and appreciate every inch of you. It was always about bringing you pleasure as many times as the night would allow. Tonight was a stark contrast to those gentle touches.

Before you knew it, he had your panties around your ankles and was telling you to sit on the counter that he had just cleaned. You hopped up as told, but your position still didn’t have his approval. His fingers hooked under your knees and yanked so that your ass slid across the counter until it was nearly hanging off the edge. He smirked at the feeling of your heated core bumping into his dress pants.

“Right there. Stay right there on the edge for me.” And then he was sinking to his knees. His hands held your inner thighs to keep you from trying to close them, not that you would have.

His mouth was everywhere except the one place you wanted it so desperately. Your clit ached for attention. It seemed like Ominis would be taking his sweet time with you after all. This was usually welcomed attention, but tonight, you wanted him inside you more than anything. You didn’t even need to finish yourself as long as he spilled inside of you.

But even though your mind didn’t need an orgasm, that didn’t mean your body wasn’t craving it. Your hips bucked slightly when his nose nearly brushed against your clit. His hands held you down on the counter as he chuckled. The vibration of his laugh made you quiver.

“Don’t fall off the counter, now. Twisting your ankle won’t get you out of taking my cock. I’d just lay you on the bed and elevate your foot with pillows before filling you up.”

“Ominis,” your voice came out like you were scolding him. He’s spoken dirty before, but never quite like that.

“Just today you admitted in this very kitchen that you push my buttons on purpose to get me to snap and bite you, yet I’m the one being told off. And for what? Making sure my wife’s hypothetical, hurt ankle would be taken care of before I give her the child she so desperately wants?”

“I- oh-,” You lost your train of thought as his lips brushed against your clit before taking it in his mouth and sucking. The feeling was too much after waiting for so long. You squirmed again, this time to get away. The feeling in the pit of your stomach always felt better releasing when things had been slow and steady. Now, you could feel the tension building alarmingly fast.

Ominis took your hips trying to move as a sign of your eagerness. His tongue lapped up your wetness that had started to seep out. Then, it dipped inside of you and his nose rubbed against your clit. Your hands were gripping the edge of the counter to keep yourself from flying off.

Now you were saying his name like a prayer. Your breathy pleas were quite the opposite from how you had just scolded him a few moments ago. Hearing you pant and mumble his name made him smirk. You could feel the corner of his mouth rise slightly against you. That action was enough to send you over the edge, almost literally if Ominis hadn’t been holding you in place on the counter. He kept his tongue in place to feel you pulse around it, though he was careful not to overstimulate you and ruin your high. Only when the pulsations slowed to nearly an end did he pull back and stand up.

“Such a good girl for me. Coming on my tongue and sounding so sweet.” He kissed you with the taste of your juices still on his tongue. You hadn’t even dared to let go of the counter while Ominis got to work unbuttoning his own pants. “Was gonna wait to have you in the bedroom, but I don’t think I can.” And then, he was lined up at your entrance and pushing in.

His movements were slow as he took you in an all consuming kiss to distract you from the stretch. Normally, you could handle whatever Ominis threw at you. This time, you were sitting nearly upright because of how close Ominis held your for the kiss. The position made it hard to take him fully, at least in an enjoyable way. You tried leaning back, and while that did help things start to feel pleasurable, your hand had landed in a stick of butter. The plate clanked against the counter. You immediately cursed under your breath.

Ominis, having heard the plate, had the audacity to laugh at your demise. He pulled out and scolded you, “You aren’t making a mess of my clean kitchen, are you?”

“It seems like you’ll have to wait until we get to the bedroom after all, and now I’ve got to wash my hand as well!”

His hands didn’t leave you the entire time you stood at the sink to try and scrub away the slimy mess on your hand. Even while walking down the hallway his hands were at work taking off your shirt and throwing it who knows where. Needless to say, you were both naked by the time you made it to the bedroom.

Vibrations ran down your neck from his voice mumbling while his lips were against your skin. “Lay on the bed.”

You had expected his hands to be all over you again the moment your back landed on the mattress. Instead, Ominis felt around for the pillows at the head of the bed. He tapped your hip. “Lift up.”

It was hard to deny his odd request because of how deeply you loved when he got a bit bossy like this. You lifted your bum so that he could slide a few pillows under you. The gesture seemed sweet, but entirely unnecessary. You’d been married for nearly nine years now, it wasn’t like you were delicate in the bedroom.

“You’re very sweet, my love, but I don’t need this to be comfortable. You won’t break me.”

Ominis stilled. His hand rested on your thigh. It looked as though he was debating something. “It’s not… for your comfort.”

“Then why are you- oh.” You swallowed your words when it set in. Your hips were high in the air like this. Gravity would make the mess Ominis was about to make stay inside you instead of seeping out.

“But are you comfortable like this?” Ominis ran his hand from your hip to your breast. His hand squeezing around you was faint and soft, more akin to a tender caress instead of anything overtly sexual.

“Yes,” you earnestly answered.

“You might have to stay like this for quite some time,” Ominis leaned closer to your ear to whisper, “Can you handle that?”

You nodded, then felt stupid before replying verbally, “I’m comfortable like this. I can stay as long as you think it’s necessary for it to… set in.”

His hand moved from your breast to lay over your heartbeat for a moment. A satisfied smirk spread across his lips. “Your heart is racing.”

“I might be a bit excited.”

“Oh yeah?” Both his hands smoothed down your body until they rested on your hips. He got on his knees between your legs. “Is that what people are calling it these days?” His thumb messily rubbed over your clit then dipped down between your folds to feel the sticky arousal that had been leaking out of you since the kitchen. There wasn’t much of a rhythm to his movements because he was just wetting his hand so that he could lubricate himself, but still, his hand touching you there in any capacity made your breathing pick up.

You were mumbling his name all desperate and breathy. Ominis chuckled at how needy you sounded. Giving you what you were begging for, he lined himself up, which caused you to whimper even more because his tip dragged across your clit a few times before he found your entrance. As he started to sink in, you sighed in relief. This angle was much better than sitting on the counter. With surprising ease, he nearly bottomed out. There was just a pinch of tightness that made him still for a moment.

His lips were leaving tender kisses across your chest and neck while he let you adjust to the feeling. You were mumbling into his neck for him to move, to take you. Your neediness made him want to give in to those desires, but Ominis wanted to memorize everything about this moment. The smell of sweat and sex in the air was absolutely vile, but incredibly mouthwatering all the same. He could go deeper than he ever had before at this angle, but that area felt tight around his tip. Ominis pulled out slightly and thrust back in slowly, being careful not to go too far and hurt you.

“More,” you were begging, nearly crying in the crook of his shoulder.

Not being able to deny you a second longer, Ominis started to thrust his hips. It wasn’t shallow, but he still wouldn’t let himself go further than the two of you were used to. Your arms wrapped around him and your nails lightly skimmed across his shoulders. He shivered and his hips stuttered unevenly, accidentally driving deeper into you. Immediately, Ominis pulled back and whispered an apology in your ear, but you held tighter onto him.

“Again, do it again.”

A tentative hand brushed the hair off your forehead so Ominis could kiss it. He pushed in deeper, but deliberately slow so he could listen for any signs of discomfort. His thumb found your clit again, hoping to give you a bit of pleasure to combat the fullness. The second his thumb grazed over you, your walls convulsed around his cock and your body shook erratically.

Ominis felt his own waves of pleasure building. On instinct, he tried to pull out to finish on your stomach. Your thighs wrapped around his waist to hold him in place.

“Please, come inside me. I want to make you a daddy.”

Your words made the tips of his ears go red. But now that he wasn’t so lost in the moment, he remembered the whole point of the evening, why he had made you rest your hips on a pile of pillows, and why he was able to reach this deep inside you in the first place.

“Stop me if it hurts,” was all the warning Ominis could give before his hips started to rut against you, hitting as deep as his length would allow with every feverish thrust. His pelvis was hitting your clit each time, Turning you right back into a moaning mess beneath him.

“There, right there.”

His breath was hot and heavy on your neck, “Gonna fill you up with my seed, sweetheart. I’m gonna fuck you just like this twice a day with your hips all high and willing to take me until we find out it worked. And then, I’m going to keep coming in you every night after to celebrate. I’ll fill you up so good, that we won’t know if it’s my come or my child growing in you that’s making you bigger.”

Talking dirty wasn’t new for Ominis, but it was rarely obscene and never, ever like this. That with how deep and fast he was fucking you made you speechless, breathless, thoughtless. You couldn’t even see straight, so you just held onto him for dear life and panted, but no breath was deep enough to fill your lungs or call you down. The tension in your entire body builds to the point that your leg was cramping. You wrapped it around Omni’s leg just to ease the pressure, but Ominis saw that as you wanting him to go harder.

So he did. His hips snapped into you hysterically. You cried out in ecstasy as another orgasm hit you like a train.

His hips faltered and he groaned as he came while your walls relentlessly milked his cock. You couldn’t stop writhing beneath him. Feeling his warm spurts of come paint your walls and add pressure made your intense waves of pleasure drag out. Ominis was on his elbows and panting, his lips right above yours. You already couldn’t breathe, but you pulled him down for a kiss regardless.

“I love you,” he gasped as he pulled away from the kiss. “Was that okay? Are you hurting? Should I get you a-“

Ominis had started to move, but your arms wrapped tighter around him and your walls clenched around his length. “Don’t move yet. Stay. Just stay.”

Seeming to understand and reciprocate your need to be close, Ominis rested on an elbow and then used his other hand to caress your body as if you were made of glass. “I’m not going anywhere, love.”

The two of you laid like that for a while just playing with each other’s hair and whispering sweet nothings. Soon, Ominis started to get hard again inside of you. He slyly shifted his hips, but his excuse of getting more comfortable didn’t work on you.

“Ominis,” you whined in an exhausted tone. How was he ready to go again!?

His kisses on your neck paused while he laughed against your skin. “Well, I did say twice a day until we’re certain, didn’t I?”

[ymoon01]

It doesn't even matter at this point, or bother me anymore if someone tries to make me feel bad, feel like I'm crazy or even ashamed for believing in my Lord Jesus. I know him, and he knows me. He has proved to me A LOT of times that he's real. That he cares for me, that he loves me, he loves me even more than anyone has ever loved me before. He accepts me for who I truly am, and I'm thankful for that. All this time he has treated me like a princess, he has kept me away from evil several times. Now that i have faith in him, that i'm trying to change for someone better, i can actually hear him. He's so lovely, he's so gentle, caring, patient, and the way he talks to me is just...adorable. How can't I not fall for him when he's so gentle and patience with me? No one has ever made me feel like this before. No simple words like "Dear, my beloved one, my precious daughter, I'm so proud of you, you're beautiful in my eyes, i'm deeply in love with everything about you, you're so pure to me, I accept you for who you are, you're my child, I chose you, i'm always thinking of you, I've been calling you for a while now and i'm letting you that I was waiting for you to return home, talk to me I'll listen, I'm always here for you, i'm never going to leave your side, i care for you..." PLZ. Because of his sweet words, confirmations, I'm not settling for less. I'm not afraid anymore to say that I'm falling for him as well. I really pray to him to get me closer to him every second, minute, every hour. So please, just know that..whatever you say against me for adoring him and seeking him means nothing to me anymore. I'm not changing my thoughts, my mind, or anything. I'm not going to stop believing in him and his word. I ain't pleasing nobody but him. So, I suggest you to not waste your time with me. You can laugh all you want, he also told me that some people would laugh at me for following him, i have accepted this because i don't want to leave his side or presence ever again and..in the meantime i'll be praying for everyone who doubts of his existence and power. You can always go with him and repent♥︎ he has a place for everyone in his kingdom.

May the Lord Jesus Christ bless you all♥︎