#they are so father son they are everything 2 me they mean the world

[icyfox17]

Guyssss guysgsguyssssgysyssgdjkskskd

[pixiesndberries]

HOW DO I GET YOU ALONE?

— Logan Howlett ❞

𖦰 :: summary — remembering her first love after a long time of running away from it.

→ Logan Howlett, Fem!Reader, Jean Grey, Rogue, Kitty Pryde, and more.

♫ :: Alone - Heart (Bad Animals, 1987) — It Must've Been Love - Roxette (It Must've Been Love, 1990)

𖦰 .. warnings — angst; mentions of intimate moment together (18+ themes), strong words, lmk if I forgot something.

> I haven't double checked this, might contain grammatical errors and typos.

𖦰 author's note — LMK IF YOU WANT LOGAN'S POV GUYS 🙏 I kinda felt shitty and I wanted a heart clenching angst, I don't want them to be happy and all of that love story. Probably my longest work ever and I'll have my break for like a day or two (more like 2 years) anyways HAVE FUN POOKIES!

WORD COUNT — 3, 666k words

"Hey, take care of the kids and yourself too." the man mutters underneath his breath as he places his 'best dad in the world' coffee mug in the sink, quickly grabbing himself a napkin to wipe the left residue on his lips — it took her a quick moment to respond since her attention is too focused on putting her children's school lunch in their very own lunch boxes, "yeah, yeah you too." she nods as she wipes her hand in her colourful apron, giving him a glare.

"did you have everything? car keys? the lunch I made you?" she says with a worried yet hurried tone making sure her husband got everything in his hands before leaving the house — "yes, ma'am." he chuckles with a nod, before she could even say something back he walked up to her wrapping his arms around her, planting a kiss on her temples.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

he nodded and left pulls away, calling the kids to have their goodbyes before their father left for work — she turns around and sighs while wiping the bead of sweat forming in her forehead, she then closes the lunchboxes and place it inside the lunch bags.

for the last nine years, this is her daily routine — to be a responsible wife and mother towards her husband and children, to be her children's first teacher and to be her husband's helping hand.

just like her dream, to be wife to somebody.

to a certain someone.

"Mommy!" james yells from his room making her drop what she was doing in panic that something might've happen to her first born son, she rushed upstairs 'till his room just to see him being completely fine — "Mommy, we need to bring old photos of our parents to school for our family tree." he says slightly feeling scared that he might've freaked his mom out for yelling too loud and exaggerated.

she sighs closing her eyes, but then looks at the kid, again trying to be calm as possible not wanting to scold the child because the school bus is going to arrive in ten minutes and he just had the balls to tell her that right now. "Okay, give me a quick moment. Wait downstairs and watch Peter and Julien for me, is that okay?" she says calmly.

"okay, mommy." james nodded as he carries his backpack with him, she created a space so he could get out of his bedroom door — when she heard his foot steps coming from the stairs she closed his bedroom door and made her way to the attic wherein the old and useless stuff was placed.

she pulled the ladder string making the ladder fall on it's own, she then secured it making sure it's stable enough to step on. As soon as it was stable enough she climbed, her head peeking through the attic.

she then spend her last minutes searching for some old boxes with photos, she already obtained her husband's old photos, mainly the one from his school yearbook photos — on the other hand, she couldn't manage to look for hers. She didn't really had much of photos before except for some that are nowhere to be found, she didn't go to school either which means she does have yearbook photos to share.

she already wanted to give up and just hand out the photos that she had in her hands right now, but her eyes landed on this brown wooden box with her brain processing where it could be from, it looks familiar at the same time it doesn't.

she then crouched to grab the box, it was small and almost fragile considering how old it maybe is. She shook the box making sure it has something inside and it did sound like there are things inside but it feels like it's packed with so much things inside.

she already forgot about the ticking of the clock and how close the school bus might be already. She flick the button open, bringing her hand to open the lid.

letters

photographs

and a locket.

it made her stop breathing for a moment, it's like her soul jumped out of her body for a quick mini second as the realization of what this was — she blinked while her fingers lingered into the rough almost fragile papers that contains letters and the photos wherein the colors are slowly fading.

she exhales and attempted to push back the letters and photos all at once in the small box, she's rushing making it unable to push it all at once except if placed neatly, out of frustration she dropped the box making it scattered all around the floor with the other ones flying somewhere in the room — she sighs closing her eyes, only to see a photo of them lying in the floor with a letter behind it.

the poorly written words even brought those memories back too good yet it stings painfully than being tortured by an electrocuting machine — no, she wasn't supposed to sit here and see this all of these things that are supposed to be gone ever since she left that damn roof. She already left what she was many years ago and she's not planning to remember nor come back because she's already contended of what she have right now, this was her dream right?

she felt a bead of tear slowly runs down her cold cheeks as she stare at the photo with her hand holding into it, wanting to just tear it apart or maybe burn it until it's all nothing but ashes that she's soon going to throw away in the lake nearby her house.

hair was short, smile was wide, she's wearing his leather jacket, his hands wrapped around her waist and her lips was attached into his cheeks — the piece of paper crumbled into her hand as she lets out an exhausted sigh and her eyes' blinking trying to avoid wasting tears again.

the same face she had as they were talking that night, the night that absolutely ruined her.

before this whole him meeting jean thing, everything was way too different compared to what situation they're in after him meeting jean — they're almost entwined and it feels like they're the only one who understands each other wether it's about missions or just in general.

birds of a feather or two peas in a pod, that's what professor x calls them, they're almost inseparable — but as times goes by it's more than just friendship.

at some point the tension started being way too compacted that it's almost hard to resist the fact that he couldn't help but to look at her lips everytime she speaks or maybe she couldn't help but to look when he's just there standing topless while fixing something — everything was irresistible.

"I don't know, he just keeps coming at me or something." she shrugs with their bodies next to each other as stares at her drink, the tension was tight and somehow warm — and the fact that Logan is questioning about this random dude who came up to her basically checking her out, it's not helping.

he doesn't want to sound possessive.

she's not his.

she doesn't want to avoid the guy either.

it's not like he's going to get jealous.

he didn't mutter any response but the moment she looked at him, she can hear the mutters inside his head — she knows that she agreed to not read his mind but she couldn't help, her head got ears and it's hearing too well.

"I'm not going with him, not worth my time. Rather, I know someone's better at wasting my time." she mutters underneath her breath quickly looking back at her whiskey as he looks back — he clicked his tongue putting the glass down in the counter, she then looks back making their eyes locked at each other.

it was deep, it was something, what do you call that? mind fucking?

she's sure it's not her telepathy thing that is wanting to pull him into a kiss right now and let him do the things that he wanted to do to her, and Logan is also sure that's it's not only him who's been feeling this close and those gazes and touches didn't have any meaning.

"fuck." she mutters underneath her breath as she holds into the bathroom's towel rail for balance as Logan's teeth leaves marks on her neck — she can't help but to wince and moan lightly as he squeezes her glutes, feeling the tight pressure.

"Logan, it's going to be visible." she sighs as he pulls away with her free hand resting on the back of his head.

"can't find the problem."

fuck, literally.

she pulls him in a passionate kiss, feeling almost like high or euphoric just by this. It was an overwhelming gut rush that she couldn't explain, she can taste the bitterness of the liquor he just had mixing with hers and it's getting her almost feral — "fuck me, Logan." she groans in his ears, like that her request is what he fulfils.

it would be a lie if both of them say everything happened once or twice, it was more than that — they didn't shared just themselves, their body, a kiss but an intimacy that she knew she wouldn't have with anyone else except for Logan.

it wouldn't be the same if it's not Logan.

every night, as they lay together in bed with Logan next to her sleeping his ass off — she couldn't help but to think, what they really are.

sometimes she would just be there and imagine their future together, kids, a nice house, and them being together — a small house down town just perfectly enough for their family, she even promised herself that if they're going to have their first son, it's name is going to be James Howlett Jr.

she's never really been a vocal type of person since from the start, she prefers quiet over anything else in this world — she never once brought the words, "what are we?" or maybe ask him if they're more than just sharing naked bodies at one bed or crashing lips together as the world falls apart around them.

but then she just spends her whole night pondering when's the right time going to be to just ask him if,

if he feels more than just sexual tension or whatever was this.

like, it couldn't be so casual that he'd hug her from behind or be a worrywart everytime she's out of sight during missions — and most of all, friends don't say I love you during sex, right?

she'd always remember when a fortune teller told her that 'you wouldn't know when the universe is going to turn against you' she never believed it not until she came home from a mission along with kitty — as she walk in the halls, she could already hear the familiar voice; his voice.

and jean's voice?

when she was only few steps away from the room where all the noises of the room is coming from, she was fighting with herself wether to just stay and listen or just walk by the room so maybe he'll notice that she's there or maybe just mind her own business, they're just friends right?

she can hear Logan's chuckle as she teases him over something.

she couldn't help but to feel this weird ache in her stomach, she couldn't explain the feeling but it was slowly going up her chest until it reaches her throat — her chest rises she closed her eyes trying to take deep breaths and thinking to just walk away.

she opens her eyes and exhales heavily, almost audible — she walked pass by the room purposely making her steps audible, she didn't even know why she did that.

she walked quickly back to her room and closed the door behind her, then leaning her back into the door with a heavy sigh — why did I do that?

why do I feel like this?

why,

why,

and why's.

that's all she could think of all night, they're just friends right?

the kiss

the way he holds her hand

no, she pushed herself to calm down — Logan can be friends with anyone, what she witnessed is just a friendly conversation so where's the reason to be paranoid?

and they aren't even together.

each night she wasted her time pondering what to do because they are slowly drifting away from each other — as time passes Logan and Jean's relationship are getting tighter, closer, it's like they're sewn together and she's just there.

letting things be,

letting everything go it's way like nothing happened between them.

"are you seriously going to stand there and just watch them?" rogue scoffs while holding a cup of coffee, scooting herself next to her friend who seems to be swimming in her own thoughts — her mind was blank while leaning into the balcony as the stars shines bright, she's well aware of the company that rogue and kitty offered her.

"didn't know you're a masochist now." kitty teased making rogue let out a low chuckle as she sips her coffee — no reaction from her, she just breaths heavily.

the atmosphere was quiet for a moment, only the sound of crickets was audible but she broke it after seconds — "I don't know, if he wanted me in the first place it wouldn't be like this."

"I mean like, the real thing."

rogue and kitty exchanged glances feeling bad for their friend, rogue looked at her for a moment then let's out a heavy sigh.

"you should talk to him, you know, to have a closure of what you two did isn't just games."

"I wish it was that easy." she says looking back at rogue, "I've made numerous attempts but when it's the actual thing and he's there, it's so hard to speak."

rogue and kitty couldn't find the perfect words to help her put her hopes up, they haven't been in her place — she's not asking for it either, she's doing okay and she appreciated the time her friends are putting on her to help her with this.

"if you wouldn't try, you wouldn't know right?" kitty spoke

she understood both of her friends suggestion to what to do, it's easy when you think about it but when you're actually there the aching feeling that slowly crawls up to her throat was getting her,

but she couldn't just sit there and wait because at some point he'll probably never try because he's focused on someone else.

cinnamon girl, is that what she is right now?

he's addicted on something and couldn't bring himself to care about her, anymore?

she wouldn't say that he completely shut her off his life, sometimes when they would run against each other, they would exchange glances but never would say a thing — sometimes during dinner the whole team would talk, then Logan would agree to her words — after missions Logan would check up the other people and she's one of them, but then she'll just smile and nod.

he's there, but not completely there.

she hated how casual it is for him to just walk pass by her, stand next to her like nothing happened, talk to jean as if she wasn't there.

this wasn't them numerous days ago, she's longing for it and it hurts so bad.

she just wanted to run away from it, but with him and jean being in the same roof as hers — it's so hard to find an excuse.

during dinner, she was so quiet as she was eating this whatever food it was — she couldn't even think straight, all of the people that surrounds her are laughing and she's just there drowning herself in a pool filled thoughts.

"right, (y/n)?" rogue chuckles nudging her arms which made her quickly looked around the people in the table, almost feeling like she just woke up in from daydream which made everyone around the table confused and exchange glances.

"yeah, yeah." she nodded awkwardly chuckling looking back at her food, kitty and rogue exchanging looks as if they already know the reason behind her behavior right now.

to fill the awkward atmosphere gambit created a joke making the whole table laugh again as if nothing happened, there she was so low in her food.

she glared around the people making sure their attention wasn't on hers because honestly it was that embarrassing, but then her eyes landed on Logan who quickly looked back.

no shit.

she glared back at her food and continue to finish it off so she could finally leave the table and rest.

on the other hand, Logan looked confused yet seem to already be puzzling the reasons why her behaviors like that right now.

later that night after the dinner, rogue and kitty said their goodnights to her and made their way to their rooms — while she was walking in the hall she was still lost of what's happening around her, she couldn't help but to think, think, and think.

out of nowhere she had this urge to stop walking, and yeah right.

Logan was in the hall too,making his way somewhere she doesn't know.

Logan also stopped his tracks and looked at her, both of their faces blank.

What do I do?

Should I?

she's fighting with herself inside, wether to approach him and talk about it or just once let it go.

her chest was rising heavily, it's visible and the tension right now is almost compacted as if there's no air.

"Logan."

"(y/n)."

both of their names slipped from each's lips on the same time — is he aware?

"can we talk? please." she exhales feeling the aching torns building up her throat once again, almost choking her — Logan nodded, she gave the somewhere private look and he shrugged agreeing with her.

You don't know how long I have wanted, to touch your lips and hold you tight. — You don't know how long I have waited, and I was going to tell you tonight.

they are in the balcony, with the cold wind feeding the almost dry atmosphere — she can't really explain what she felt but it's almost like she's trapped in a box and she's slowly exploding, it's an overwhelming feeling having him here.

she doesn't know how to start and he's just standing there waiting for her to say the words he needed to hear, she gulps and looked at him with her eyes reflecting the bright colors of the stars and moon.

"it's, about us." she finally spoke, her voice almost cracking through the words — she's fighting the urge not to cry right now, her chest just feels so heavy.

she can see in her eyes how Logan reacted when the word us slips from her lips, he knows that what she's talking about and if she's in the right state she would've plucked her mind to get under his to read whatever he's thinking right now.

he didn't respond, "Logan, what am I to you? Are you really going to shut me off like I was someone who you didn't know." she says with her fist tightening into a ball and her voice raising a little — frustration and pain.

"Logan, are you really going to act like this forever, like I wasn't here?" she says with a firm tone.

"are you really going to forget about what we had?"

"those kisses, sweet nothings, touch, and whatever the fuck it is!"

"(y/n)."

"don't fucking call me now, Logan, I am so fucking hurt." she says pointing at his chest out of frustration, she felt like exploding right now.

beads of tears was already slipping in her cheeks, her chest rising continuously.

he was dumbfounded, not being able to find the right words to defend himself — because it was true, it all happened and he couldn't just pretend that it didn't happened.

"tell me, those fucking things that we had is nothing to you!"

"that's not true."

"then why!" she sobs trying her best to keep her voice down, "Logan, why?"

"I don't know."

"what do you mean you don't know?" she sobs again feeling so frustrated, "Logan, I'm sure those things are easy to forget shit."

"if it's just fucking, flirting, comforting to you. Logan to me it's the real fucking thing, what do you call that again? Love?"

she never once wanted to admit that she's in love, she hated love, they both hated love and all this time they both believed that what they did is just nothing, something they can easily forget — sorry for breaking it to him, she fooled herself for thinking it's love.

"I never learned to care until I met you."

"I never learned to love until I met you." she says almost choking from her own spit as tears continuously pouring.

again, Logan couldn't bring himself to speak — it's not like he doesn't care to what's happening right now, he just didn't know this is what she felt all this time. He thought she felt the way he does, all of this are nonsense.

"I thought it was all nothing." he says back, "I thought you and I agreed that we're doing that no strings attached."

"but you said I love you, and I'm sorry clinged to that but I hoped." she quickly responded, "my mouth hasn't shut up about you since you kissed it. The idea that you may like me the way that I do was stuck in my brain, which hasn't stopped thinking about you since." she says with her voice cracking mid sentence.

"I didn't mean to make you feel that way, but you know we both agreed right? that we don't have something."

"and that was my mistake, but you couldn't just say you love me like it was nothing."

she still remembers it perfect in her head, she can still hear how he said it during sex, while they're just together, kissing her forehead and mumbles I love you before mission — it was all nothing?

"I just wished you could've told me before you," she pauses wiping her tears, in fact she couldn't even bring herself to say her name.

"you could've told me that before meeting Jean, because I felt like I'm some kind of toy that you got sicked of playing."

it was nothing but quiet for a few seconds but Logan cutted the silence as he attempted to explain for himself.

"I was the first person Jean got closed with and during that time you were nowhere to be found, maybe you're there but so far."

"I thought you didn't want me anymore."

she did, she did spaced away from him thinking he doesn't her anymore — it's her mistake for not talking this out ever since she felt jealous.

"but that's not a reason to completely shut me off, you could've ended whatever we are doing in a good way so I wouldn't hope anymore that you would still be knocking at my door, to talk to me." she added

they're are both standing at their own points.

she already felt tired at this moment and just wanted to cry her eyes out in her room and Logan was completely lost right now, conflicted between Her and Jean.

she already know that he wouldn't at least try to explain that he once loved her like she did, she's so dumb for even thinking about it.

"then I'm sorry, if that's what you wanted to hear."

why is he making it sound like she's demanding for an apology? she doesn't want to see him anymore, she's so miserable right now.

she sighs, she doesn't even know what to say now everything is messing up with her head, she already said what she have to say to him and it made her chest lighter now — but there's still an open wound in her heart right now.

"I love her, but I appreciated you."

and when she heard those words it felt like the world came crashing to her and continuously slaps her on the face, Logan then turned back, having himself looking back at her before walking way.

as much as she wanted to stop him, she thought it's for the best to let him be — it already happened, it's clear that he didn't want her from the start.

So this is it?

That's it?

Should I be happy that he appreciated me?

Logan could still here muffles and cries that night, he was in his bed trying to shake off the feeling — this weird feeling, he knew that he should be sorry but in the first place he thought both of them doesn't believe in love, he clinged into that.

He'd be lying if he didn't admit he didn't mean to say those words, those sweet nothings, and those love gestures — he was conflicted between the forming feelings for her and the fact that she once admitted that she doesn't believe in love.

so he stopped himself and found Jean, Jean wasn't so scared of showing her love and the slow burning start of their romance — if he knew that they're both in love from the start maybe he wouldn't be here in this bed right now remembering the words she have said.

he was a jerk and he knows that, but he it'll make things tougher if he admitted that he also felt something for her — it would be useless now that him and jean had this thing now, it'll hurt her more.

Last minute regret, he's going to carry this forever.

"I have to find my myself professor, I think this is just not for me." she mutters underneath her breath while looking at the man in front of her, Professor Charles Xavier.

she professor was dumbfounded for her sudden departure with the reason of she felt like what she's doing wasn't really for her — as much as professor x wanted to disagree because of her helpful abilities that put the team together, it's almost like him and her are alike, he couldn't bring himself to stop her.

there's this energy that tells him that she is in agony, a sense of lost, as if she was in grief — he didn't bother to read her mind, it feels too wrong especially when she look like this.

"if that what makes you happy, I am delighted to fully support your decision, I just wanted you to know that the door is open when you wanted to come back, (y/n)." the professor said with a grin on his face, which somehow sent her a sense of comfort.

"I am holding into that." she smiles, but she remembered something before going.

"please don't tell them, the only people who are aware are rogue and kitty, please?"

"as you wish."

and that she traveled where she can, wherever her feet brings her finding the peace that she wanted — she wanted to leave who she was, wanting her old self dead and forgotten.

as much as it hurts her, she wanted to space away not wanting to drown herself once again — maybe she really love him that much that she reached this point.

Logan was her first love, and she knows it's going to take a long time forgetting that face.

she changed everything about her from head to toes, cut and dyed her hair, attempted to find a new style which she successfully did and to forget everything in the past leaving them where they belong.

she found herself in Switzerland, wherein she built a flower shop and when she's not busy she'll be a part time teacher in preschool — with that being said, that's the same place she met her husband.

he always buys flowers in her shop for his mother who was sick, there he learned his interest towards her — Long story short, they got married and shared three children; James, Julien, and Peter.

and ever since she met her husband she forgot about Logan, not even thinking's where he is, how is he doing, if he is still actually alive — she never once think of him, even the school and her friends.

"Mommy! The school bus is here!" when she heard a familiar voice coming from down the attic she quickly stuffed the box and what it contains somewhere that wouldn't be found by any of the people inside this house except her, she wiped her tears and took a deep breath.

"I'm done, hold on." she says before grabbing a random photograph with Logan and tearing it apart quickly making her way down the attic, handing it to James as fast as possible.

"kids!" she calls out as she walk fast guiding the kids out of the house with the big yellow bus waiting outside.

:: additional note — LMK IF YOU WANTED THIS BUT LOGAN'S POV CUZ LIKE I FELT I DID LOGAN DIRTY WITH THIS ONE 🙏 THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC SO FAR 😭 I'M TIRED BYE.

ᯓ★ pixiesndberries 2024 ! i don't allow my work to be share in any platforms without my permission — REBLOGS, LIKES, AND FOLLOW ARE APPRECIATED !

[junkissed]

leaning on the everlasting arms

member — childhood best friend! pastor's son!joshua x f reader genre — angst, smut, some fluff, bible college au word count — 10.3k (my first fic over 10k wowie!!) synopsis — as kids growing up in the same church, you and joshua were inseperable, until you got to an age where it was considered immoral for girls and boys to be friends. when you find him again just before graduation, he's different than you remember; but so are you. content warnings — female reader, she/her, reader is implied to be smaller (i'm sorry), discussion of gender roles & religion, no religion is mentioned by name but it's heavily implied to be a form of christianity, reader & shua are both seniors in college, reader wears skirts/dresses but not really by choice, this whole thing is pretty blasphemous oops smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, virgin!joshua x virgin!reader, mutual masturbation, phone sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (reader receiving), hints of a voice kink, size kink, praise, begging, really vanilla missionary but it's hot, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, angel) notes — although i am no longer religious, this is partially based off of my own experiences with the extremely traditional christian church i was raised in. however, please keep in mind that this is fiction and does not reflect my beliefs nor joshua's beliefs so don't take the plot too seriously. this piece is not meant to discuss whether certain religions are "right" or "wrong" so please do not comment/send me asks trying to start a debate! we're all just here for a little sexy time with shua it's not that deep note #2 — for those who aren't familiar, the title is the name of a hymn and i thought it was funny bc joshua big sexy arms hehehe

as far back as you could remember, joshua was your closest friend.

his father was the pastor of the church your family went to, and as luck would have it you were both in the same grade, so it wasn’t long before you became inseparable. you saw him at minimum three times a week: sunday morning, sunday evening, wednesday evening.

you spent most of your childhood together. sitting next to each other at every service, sharing your bibles with each other whenever one of you left them at home, sneaking donuts away from the box at the table outside the sermon hall that was supposed to only be for the adults.

you did everything together, and told each other everything. that is, until you reached middle school. boys and girls weren’t allowed to sit in the same services anymore, and you had to stay in separate buildings for every church camp and conference. 

the worst part was you didn’t even understand why. what did they think you were gonna do with him? kiss him? no amount of money in the world could get you to do that! joshua was your best friend. who else were you supposed to climb trees and build forts and sneak donuts with? kissing was stupid.

when you asked your mom about it, she told you the same thing everyone else did: about how men of god had a different path and needed to hear different messages in order to grow up to lead their own churches one day. you thought it was stupid. what if a woman wanted to lead a church, why are men the ones that have to do it? but she would just shake her head and tell you it's just the way things work in the church, you'll understand when you're older.

you were allowed near him less and less until the only time you were able to see him was at the after-service brunch with his family, and even then that began to happen less and less as the years went on.

and of course it was church rules, so there was no arguing with them because that would mean arguing with god, and who were you to question his authority? there would be no special exception for you, no matter how much you protested to your mom that you would never, ever think about joshua like that. in a fit of anger one day you blew up at her, shouting that she had had friends of the opposite gender when she was in high school, so why couldn’t you? it wasn’t fair. but she had just sighed and stared out the window, clearly ending the conversation. many years passed before she finally told you about her life before she came to church, recalling all the times she had been hurt by men she had loved and trusted. you understood then why she had wanted to keep you sheltered and safe, but you still didn’t agree. but then again, if you had been allowed to do what you wanted then maybe things would never have ended up the way they did. perhaps you have her to thank.

back then, all you could do was hold on to the little time you had with him until eventually you stopped seeing him altogether. 

more summers passed and you started spending all of your time memorizing bible verses with your fellow “women of christ”, missing the way you used to spend your time with your best friend.

but then you went off to bible college like had always been planned for you, and everything changed. instead of continuing to follow the strict schedule that was laid out for you, you finally got a little taste of freedom, and you realized what you’d been missing all this time. everything that you’d been taught was sinful, evil, wicked, was what brought you more pleasure than you’d ever known was possible.

you still had to pretend to be a good girl for the people around you, who, for reasons you couldn’t comprehend, were still dedicated to their life of purity. or at least they acted like it. maybe everyone was secretly just like you, hiding their sins behind a friendly smile and a firm handshake every sunday morning.

you weren’t hurting anyone with the things you did in private, and the feeling of rebellion was a kind of satisfaction you didn’t know you were allowed to feel. you were an adult, making your own choices now and facing whatever consequences that came with them.

there was only one consequence. for some reason, all the impure thoughts you had always centered around joshua. no matter what dirty books you read or videos you watched, the man you always pictured giving it to you was joshua.

you hated that after all these years, everything still came back to him. you fought it, tried imagining actors or celebrities in his place instead; characters from your books and movies and shows, anyone but him. you wanted to save whatever memories you had left of him, think of him in a good light like you used to when you were younger, but the way he plagued your mind was worse than the ones in the book of exodus.

but now, in your final year of college, you thought you had finally gotten yourself under control.

that is, until you were leaving one of your bible lectures and all the control you’d convinced yourself that you had crumbled away in mere seconds when you saw a startlingly familiar face standing by the door. a face you hadn’t seen in far too long. 

“joshua?”

“hey,” he says with a smile, like no time has passed at all. like it’s been hours since you’ve seen each other, not years. 

there are so many things you want to say, so many things you want to ask him, but you’re frozen in place. why is he here? where has he been? how did he find you again?

“it’s been a while,” he says with an awkward laugh when you don’t say anything.

you nod, still in a daze. “yeah. quite a while.”

he smiles. “well, anyway, i’ve got a meeting to go to in a bit, but… i just wanted to see you.”

“oh,” you say. what else is there to say? what can you say to make up for the years lost that you’ll never get back?

he looks at his watch, the conversation clearly coming to an end.

“can i give you my phone number?” he says. a deep shade of pink creeps into his cheeks but he either doesn’t notice or purposely doesn’t acknowledge it. “maybe we can talk sometime, catch up.”

“i– yeah,” you manage. god, it’s so good seeing him again. “yeah, that would be really nice.”

you’ve given up on homework for the night, spending your entire afternoon in a daze since you ran into joshua.

so many years, yet you still can’t get his smile out of your head.

you close your eyes, hand dipping below the waistband of your pajama pants automatically. it’s frightening how easily you’re able to bring up a picture of him in your mind, so much clearer than before now that you’ve seen what he looks like all grown up.

and grown up, he has. you had been too stunned to get a good look at him while he was in front of you, but the way he’d changed was immediately apparent and the image in your brain now feels almost unreal. 

his hair was a little longer and a little darker, and he was much taller, with broad shoulders that looked way too perfect in a suit jacket. but his face hadn’t changed a bit. maybe his jaw was a little bit sharper and his smile lines were a little bit deeper, but his eyes were the same ones you had always known. 

your hand slips lower and lower until you’re gently running the tips of your fingers over the panel of your underwear covering your pussy, moaning quietly when you feel how wet you are already.

no wonder it’s been so hard for you to focus all day. you’ve been too busy pushing away thoughts of joshua burying his fingers in your tight, wet cunt, cooing about how good you’re being for him and how long he’s waited for you.

automatically you feel your other hand grabbing for your phone, desperate to hear his voice again. you hadn’t said more than a few sentences to him earlier, but you feel like you’ll go crazy if you don’t hear him while you’re in this state. so needy for him and only him, and he doesn’t even know it.

your fingers shake as you press the buttons, knowing you’re about to get yourself into a whole world of trouble but not being able to stop yourself.

“hey.” he answers on the second ring. his tone is deep and husky, and your breath catches in your throat for a second, not used to hearing him talk like that; the last time you heard his voice was long before puberty, and you’re still navigating how to talk to this older, sexier joshua.

your first thought is to wonder if his morning voice sounds equally as sexy, but you’re immediately pushing it out of your head when you hear what sounds like him stifling a yawn.

“sorry, did i wake you? it– it’s not important,” you start, ashamed of how needy you are that you’d call him in the middle of the damn night, unprovoked, like some kind of bible group booty call.

the regret is already starting to set in. he probably hasn’t changed as much as you've built him up in your mind, probably still the obedient gentleman he was before. he’s probably already well on his way to being the head of a church, so of course he wouldn’t be thinking about you like that—

“no. it’s fine,” he says, interrupting your thoughts. “always have time for you, sweetheart. what’s up?”

you shove down the butterflies that flutter up in your stomach at the name he calls you, a nickname he always called you when you were kids because he was taught it was always polite to talk sweet to a lady. 

except it feels so much different now. talking sweet to a lady as kids was easy, innocent. but one wrong word now would completely change the meaning behind those pretty words of his, and you aren’t sure how to feel about it.

“i… just– it’s been so long, joshie,” you whisper, surprised at the sudden feeling of tears springing up behind your eyes. you didn’t mean for this to happen— you didn’t mean for any of it to happen. not back then, and certainly not now.

he lets the line go quiet, finally sighing into the phone after a long pause. “i missed you… so much.” he murmurs your name, and the way the rumble in his voice goes straight through you immediately reminds you why you called him in the first place.

your free hand toys with the hem of your underwear again, fighting to keep down the whimper that threatens to escape you. “missed you too,” you breathe out. god, you can’t believe you’re doing this. but for the first time in years, the man you’ve been picturing in your head is right here with you, fulfilling some of your fantasies that you never thought could ever come true.

somewhere deep in your stomach you feel guilty about it, getting off to the thought of him and he doesn’t even know it. would he want to know? would he be okay with it? would he hate you forever if he knew?

he clears his throat, snapping you back to attention and you realize you must’ve been silent for a while, thinking.

“um, so, what are you doing?” you ask, trying to seem casual, but it comes out as anything but. nobody calls anyone this late at night and asks what they’re doing without having a dirty reason for doing so. 

all you can do is hope he’s either too innocent to pick up on it, or that he doesn’t believe you’re the type of person who would call for something like that. you wonder if he still thinks of you as that perfect little obedient church girl he grew up with.

“nothing, just–working on… stuff,” he replies awkwardly. clearly he doesn’t want to go into detail about what he’s doing, and you’re already afraid you’ve interrupted his sleep; you’re mentally kicking yourself for all the blunders you’ve made, and you haven’t even been on the phone for five minutes.

“what are you doing?” he asks back, and you freeze, trying to come up with some excuse, anything. fuck, think of something!

“h-homework,” you sputter out, attempting to hide your unconfident answer with a cough.

apparently it works, because he hums in response, the line falling quiet. you hear the rustling of papers on his end, and you press your fingers harder against your cunt, heartbeat racing in your ears.

your fingers brush against your clit a little rougher than you intend, and a little whine escapes your lips, catching you off guard. you slap a hand over your mouth, hoping it had been too quiet for him to hear and he hadn’t been paying attention.

“are you…?” he asks suddenly, and your cheeks flush, caught red-handed in your sinful act.

you clear your throat, praying (both metaphorically and literally) that he doesn’t notice anything off about you. “am i what?”

his silence on the other end of the phone speaks volumes.

“joshua, oh my god, no, i–”

“what did you just say?”

you freeze. “what… did i say?”

when he speaks again, his tone is even. “don’t you know it’s a sin to take the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart?”

that nickname again, and now you know he’s doing it on purpose. innocent, pretty words, completely changed in a split second.

you let out a short laugh, scrambling to find a cover. “must’ve forgot then.”

he hums. “i remember you spent a whole month trying to memorize the ten commandments. we must’ve been what, eight or nine? you wouldn’t have forgotten. i may not have seen you since we were kids, but i’ve still known you most of my life.”

“it was an accident, you know how it is. just slips out. of course i remember them all.”

he tsks, and it feels like your heart stops. “did you forget that lying is a sin, too? you’re two for two now, wanna try for a third?”

damn him! damn his good memory and damn his stupid witty comebacks and damn the way he so quickly manages to unravel you.

you scowl and don’t respond to his question, your silence enough of an answer for joshua to know he’s right.

“why did you call me tonight?” he asks calmly.

you answer truthfully this time. “just wanted to hear your voice again. i really did miss you.”

the phone goes quiet again, and for a second you’re afraid he’s hung up, but then you hear him exhale. “it’s late. what are you doing?”

“i’m in bed, josh. don’t worry, father, i’m not staying up past my bedtime.”

he chooses to ignore your remark. “in bed doing what?”

you give him a half-suppressed laugh. “in bed laying down. what else would i be doing?”

“well, with the way you were trying to hide your moans earlier, i would’ve figured you were doing something more exciting. but if you’re just laying down, then i don't want to keep you long, might as well hang up…”

“no!” you squeak out, cutting him off. you swallow, trying to collect yourself as you repeat the word. “no. fine, whatever, you caught me. but– please, stay.” you can hear the plea in your voice and you know you should be embarrassed at how pathetic you sound, but you aren't. the only thing you can think about is joshua, joshua, joshua, and how good it feels to talk to him again.

“i’m here,” he says softly, and you let your eyes close with a sigh, relieved he’s not going to chastise you. but as much as you’ve both changed as you grew up, deep down you knew he wouldn’t. you figure you could do just about anything and he wouldn’t try to tell you what to do. he’d always been like that, and it’s what you’d loved about him; he never tried to control you or shame you for not acting like the perfect little angel everybody wanted you to be. 

you couldn’t say the same about others in the church. maybe that’s why you’d started to drift away from them and why joshua’s friendship coming to an end had left you so devastated. he had been the one and only person you could always count on, and they had not.

“are you still there?” he asks gently, and you realize you’ve been quiet for too long thinking.

“yeah,” you say finally.

“are you still touching yourself?”

you pause, stifling a gasp, taken aback by his forwardness. hearing him say it out loud made everything seem so real, the realization setting in about what you’re actually doing. “n– no.”

and it’s true. your hand has long since dropped away from your pajama pants, too nervous about being discovered to continue.

“well, why not?” he says. “don’t stop on my account.”

your mouth falls open. “i–”

“clearly you wanted something from me when you called. what is it, sweetheart? i can’t help you if i don’t know what it is you want.”

your brain practically short circuits at that, and it takes a very long minute for you to collect your thoughts into a coherent sentence. you want a lot of things, but you don’t know what’s okay to say or not or if he even wants to keep going. which is a silly thought, because he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want to know. it dawns on you that maybe… maybe he’s curious, maybe he’s thinking about you, too.

“what kind of help?” you ask, still testing the waters. you think you have an idea of what he means, but you ask anyway. you’ve never done anything like this with anyone else, only by yourself; not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t want it to be with someone who wasn’t joshua.

“you said you wanted to hear my voice,” he says, and you swear his tone has dropped an octave. “then let me talk to you.”

you whine a little, still holding back but not putting in as much effort to hide it. “m’kay.”

“would it make you feel better if i told you i’m hard right now?”

you suck in a breath. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he says. “just thinking about you.”

you feel a rush of emotion at his admittance. pride? satisfaction? whatever it is, it makes your cunt throb, knowing that just the thought of you can get him going.

finally you dare to slide your hand down your pants again, unsurprised when you find your underwear sticking to you with how wet you are. you’re soaking, and you haven’t even done anything yet.

“hold on,” you manage, putting the call on speaker as you set your phone on the table beside your bed, scrambling to shove your pants and ruined panties off and onto the floor.

once free, you pick up your phone and turn off the speaker, holding it to your ear with shaky hands.

“all ready now?” he asks softly, and it reminds you of what he used to say before you’d play pretend games together. always making sure you were ready. he was hot back then, too, and you mentally curse yourself for never realizing it sooner.

you hum. “mhm. comfortable.”

“good,” he says, and you can almost hear him smiling. “go ahead and do whatever you’d like. but i want you to tell me what you’re thinking about right now.”

you squirm a little on the bed as you start to circle your clit with your fingers. “thinking about you, joshua,” you sigh, finally beginning to feel relief.

“yeah?”

“yeah. you look even better than i thought you would,” you groan, picking up your pace a little as you slip your index finger inside your walls.

he chuckles. “oh, really?”

“mhm. god, i never thought i’d be doing this. especially not with you.”

“and why is that, baby?”

the name makes you shiver. you’d imagined him calling you it many times, but hearing him actually say it is completely different.

“because—” you whimper, losing your train of thought when your brain suddenly pictures his fingers inside you instead of your own. “i’m so close already, please—”

his tone is gentle but firm. “i want you to stop now.”

“but– ah, feels so good, shua,” you say, moans spilling out of you, finally letting him hear everything you’ve been holding back.

you hear him curse in that low voice through the phone, and your hand stills for a split second in shock, your eyes widening. as far as you knew, he never swore. but then again, there were a lot of things he never did that you're discovering about him now. looks like you weren’t the only one who changed over the years.

“that’s not my name.”

you sit up a little in confusion, pushing your phone closer to your ear to make sure you’re hearing him right. “huh?”

“my name is joshua. if you’re gonna moan like a sinner about how good it feels when i tell you how to touch yourself, you better use my name properly.” he sounds almost angry, but it only spurs you on even further.

you let his words sink for a second before responding. “yes, sir.”

“fuck,” he moans, he actually moans, and if you weren’t already so far gone you would’ve stopped to listen closer, to ingrain the noise in your brain so you never again forget how he sounds. “what did i just tell you?”

“what, you don’t like being called ‘sir’? thought you wanted to be a pastor, joshua,” you say with a smirk, and you know he hears the mischief in your voice, daring him to give you what you want.

it’s probably a good thing he’s not physically in the room with you, because there's no way you would have been able to muster up the courage to say something like that to his face. you wouldn’t have dared to even look him in the eyes, but being on the phone gives you a head rush. because with only his voice and not seeing his face, you can convince yourself that he still isn’t real, that this whole phone call and even your meeting earlier had just been an elaborate figment of your horny imagination, your denial being the only thing saving your last shred of dignity.

“didn’t realize you’d grow up to be even more of a brat than you were before,” he scoffs, and your cunt pulses. 

“what are you doing right now?” you say, a little desperately. the change of subject isn’t very subtle but you don’t care. you won’t lie, you’ve been curious since the start of what he’s doing but he’s been so focused on you he hasn’t said anything about himself. you want to know everything about him— how he’s moving his hands, where he puts pressure, what he thinks about to get himself closer and closer.

he grunts unceremoniously. “i’m fucking my hand and pretending it’s you.”

“me too,” you whimper, closing your eyes as you focus on the movement of your fingers.

after a while he stops responding, and you can hear his heavy breaths over the line matching with your own gasps for air as you curl your fingers inside of you. you figure he must be getting close, but you ask him anyway, because you want to hear him say it.

“yeah– fuck, so close,” he chokes out, and the way his voice gets higher as he lets out a whimper is what finally makes you come undone.

with a moan of his name—his full name—you cum, clenching around your fingers as you struggle to keep your hand moving. your wrist is starting to cramp up a little from the position you’ve been in, but the pleasure coursing through you is more than worth it. it’s almost dizzying, more powerful than any orgasm you’ve had before and when you finally remove your fingers from your aching cunt your head is spinning and your heart is pounding.

you can hear a muffled string of curses through the phone and you know he’s right behind you. thoughts of him sitting on his bed run rampant in your head, imagining his stomach covered in milky cum and his pretty, pretty lips parted as he catches his breath.

the silence is heavy as you feel yourself come back down from your high. you struggle to find something to say after… whatever that just was, so you say the only thing that’s on your mind.

“i really did miss you, joshua,” you say quietly. unlike before, there’s not a hint of teasing in the way you say his name now.

and he sighs contentedly, finally hearing his name on your lips like he always wanted to. “i know. i missed you too.”

you both say your goodbyes and good nights quickly, still basking in enough of the remnants of your orgasms to not be too awkward about it. but after you’re settled in bed (for real, this time) and about to fall asleep, you can’t help but wonder if things between you and joshua will ever be anything but awkward.

a memory surfaces: you and joshua running around at the park behind the church after a sunday evening service, no older than kindergarteners, laughing and playing until you collapse on the grass. your mom called for you both to get ready to go home, and no you’re not allowed to have a sleepover because it’s a school night but maybe this weekend if his mom is okay with it. before you ran off, he thrust his pinky out towards you and you shook on it, making a pact to always be best friends, even when you can’t have sleepovers. it didn’t ever occur to either of you that there might come a day where you wouldn’t be best friends.

you don’t remember what prompted him to make the pinky promise, but you know he’s never broken it. and you can only hope that he hasn’t forgotten it.

it’s a few days later at one of your bible study groups when you see him next, and yet again you’re caught off-guard like a deer in headlights.

you’re sitting with a group of other ladies, annotating material for a test you couldn’t care less about when you hear your name called out– a familiar deep voice you can only pray doesn’t belong to who you think it belongs to.

oh, but it does belong to him, alright. it feels like you’ve gotten the wind knocked out of you when you turn around and see joshua standing behind you, a warm smile on his face that makes you doubt anything ever happened. maybe it really was all just a delirious dream, too many years of yearning built up into one intense wet dream.

he puts a hand on your shoulder lightly, turning you away from the rest of the ladies. “hey, can we talk somewhere?”

and oh shit it was definitely not a dream.

your cheeks burn as you excuse yourself from the table, packing up your bible and pens and shoving everything in your bag as quickly as you can. you can almost hear the snickering already, the gossips whispering to each other that you must have done something unspeakable if the top-student, pastor’s son, joshua hong has to speak with you privately. ah, if only they knew.

you only wish you could go back there and wipe the smirks off of all their faces and tell them about what the perfect little gentlemen they all pretend they don’t have crushes on was doing on the phone with you last night. you wouldn’t do that, not in a million years, but just the thought of it is satisfaction enough. 

joshua leads you down the hall to a room that looks like an empty office. he opens the door for you, then closes it softly behind you.

“whose is this?” you ask, glancing around the room. 

“it’s… mine,” he says almost shyly, gesturing idly to a little engraved nameplate on the desk. joshua hong, pastor’s assistant. because of fucking course he would be.

“oh.”

he clears his throat, and in that moment you realize he’s just as nervous as you are. “listen…” he starts, taking a pause. “about the other night–”

“are you gonna kick me out?” you interrupt.

his brows knit together in confusion. “what?”

“are you gonna expel me?”

“no?” he says, still looking at you, baffled. “why would i do that? i don’t even think i have the power to, even if i wanted. which, for the record, i don’t.”

you don’t reply, focusing your gaze on the carpet instead.

he frowns. “is that really how you think of me? that i just go around tattling to my dad? from that… conversation, i thought it was clear i’m not like that anymore.”

the tips of your ears are burning at the memory of all the things you said to each other over the phone. but it never occurred to you that maybe he was just as sinful as you had been.

you stay quiet, the silence stretching on as shame and embarrassment and a hundred other emotions swirl in your mind and you struggle to figure out what to say.

luckily for you he fills the silence himself. he exhales, looking down at a stack of papers on the desk. “god, you… you don’t know how much i missed you. i thought about you all the time.”

“so did i,” you manage to whisper. “in more ways than you know.”

he gives you a teasing smile. “oh, i have a feeling i do know.”

you hold back a cough and look away, focusing your attention on a painting of flowers on the wall. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“if that’s how you wanna play this, fine.”

your curiosity piques, and you look back at him. he motions to the seat in front of the desk, wordlessly asking you to sit. hesitantly you do, and he starts to sit down at the swivel chair behind the desk, but you clear your throat and he glances up.

“can– can you not sit over there?” you ask softly. “feels like i’m being scolded.”

his expression softens a little, and he rolls the chair back into place, opting to sit next to you instead. “of course.”

except maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to do that, because now he’s sitting toe to toe with you and the closeness is overwhelming. at least on the other side of the desk there was enough distance for you to shrink and hide behind, but here, sitting like this, he can see all of you. and you don’t particularly want to be seen right now.

the tension is palpable as he takes his seat, still watching you. you take the moment to study his features: the slope of his nose and the gentle curve of his lips, the way the light catches on his long eyelashes and the way his broad shoulders look in that perfectly tailored sunday morning service suit.

“i always liked you,” he starts, and your gaze shoots up to his eyes. you open your mouth to ask something, but he shakes his head and you immediately fall silent, letting him finish. “i was almost glad when they made us go to different sunday school classes, because i wouldn’t have to sit there and pretend i didn’t have the craziest crush on you.”

“joshua, i–” you trail off, not even knowing what to say.

he pauses, as if debating his next words. “and i know it’s wrong, but i couldn’t get you out of my head when i… y’know.” his cheeks are flushed but he doesn’t look away from you, eyes searching your own for any hesitance or any sign that you don’t want this.

it’s then that you realize that the boldness you had felt hiding behind your phone, he had felt it too. saying words alone in your room at night was easy. sitting in public, in the daylight, and saying those same words to his face was so much scarier. and knowing that you’re both feeling awkward and shy and a little uncertain of how to talk about it gives you the confidence to keep going.

“when you would what?” you pry. you already know the answer but you want to hear it come out of his mouth anyway. you’ve already heard him say it, but something about sitting in his office, in a church, speaking such filth ignites a spark in you that’s completely different from the spark you felt a few nights ago.

he clears his throat and looks you in the eye, maybe gaining a little bit of that confidence, too. “when i would jerk off i would always wish it was your sweet little mouth instead of my own hand.”

you inhale sharply, and that’s when he finally breaks eye contact, his guilt-ridden gaze shifting to the wall behind you as his cheeks burn redder. “i didn’t feel good about it. felt like i was doing it without your permission, and i didn’t want that. i–”

“yes,” you say hurriedly.

he stops short at your interruption, instantly looking back at you. “yes…?”

“yes, you have my permission. whatever you want, joshua, always.”

his eyes narrow, almost imperceptibly, but you recognize it. even after all these years, after so much has changed, you still know his tells. you wonder if he still knows yours.

he murmurs your name in response, almost like a warning. “don’t say stuff like that,” he says, letting out a shaky breath.

“why not?” you ask, feigning innocence. but you know exactly what you’re doing, and you know exactly how you affect him: the same way he affects you.

he looks up at you. “you really are just as much of a brat as you were back then, aren’t you?” he says with just a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“why don’t you find out?”

he groans, leaning back in his chair. “do you know how long i’ve wanted to kiss you?” he says finally.

“probably just as long as i’ve wanted to kiss you,” you counter, and he raises an eyebrow.

you both stand up at the same moment, closing the distance in less than a second. 

you stare at his chest in front of you to avoid his eyes, until he brings up a hand and gently tilts your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“are– you gonna get in trouble?” you breathe, heartbeat pounding in your ears as you stare at his perfect, perfect lips.

he hums, and it sends a shiver down your spine at the close proximity. “are you still giving me permission?” he asks, and you quickly shake your head yes. 

“always.”

he smooths his thumb across your cheek. “then i won’t be in any trouble at all."

and then his hand moves to hold the back of your neck and he's tilting his head and bringing his lips towards yours and then finally, after years of dreaming about it and even more years of denying it, you're finally kissing joshua and there's so many things happening at once that you can't seem to focus on anything because your mind is so full of everything and nothing and joshua and it all just feels so right.

you’re melting in his arms and falling into his touch and enjoying every fucking second of it. your heart speeds up when his hands slide behind your back, wrapping around your body to pull you closer to him, pressed chest to chest.

he pulls away to kiss you again, and again, and again, and you decide you’d be content to be like this forever, standing in his office in the church building making out like you’re the only two people on earth. 

but finally his lips leave yours, and he takes a tiny step backwards, heaving out a shaky breath as he looks you in the eyes. “what are we gonna do now?”

your heart plummets, doubts racing through your mind. did he not like it? does he not like you? did you really just ruin everything? why did he stop? why did he ask that—

but all your questions are answered in an instant when he coughs and you look down, finally noticing the prominent bulge in his dress pants. oh. that.

when you look back up at him his cheeks are flushed bright red, and he immediately begins to apologize.

“shua,” you call out to him, repeating his name the way you know he likes. “joshua. don’t worry about it. it’s fine.”

in fact, you find it incredibly flattering, that just a few kisses and gentle touches could get him this worked up. maybe it really has been you all along.

with a surge of confidence, you step back towards him, wrapping your arms around him and leaning to kiss him. “are you busy today?” you murmur, your cheek brushing against his.

he shudders, hands automatically finding your waist and pushing your hips against his own. “no. are you?”

you sigh, kissing the corner of his mouth. “not anymore.”

“fuck,” he curses, his grip on your body tightening “you really want to…?” he asks, almost shyly, as if he’s in denial this is really happening.

“absolutely,” you say, and you’ve never meant anything more in your life.

in a second he’s got you shoved against his desk, sending papers flying to the floor as he lifts you by your ass to sit you down on top of it. your kisses turn rougher and needier, your hands grabbing at anything you can reach to ground yourself: his hair, his shoulders, his back.

finally he breaks free, dropping to his knees in front of the desk. “please, let me eat you out.”

you moan out loud, probably too loudly for the thin walls of the office. but the visual of him on his knees to do anything other than pray drives you mad, and you need more of him, desperately. “joshua, please.”

he pushes your skirt up your thighs, moving it out of his way so he can stare eye to eye with your pussy. you whimper and instinctively try to hide your face in embarrassment, but something tells you he wouldn’t like that, so you resist, keeping your hands firmly planted on the edge of the desk.

“fuck, you’re soaking,” he says, his voice broken. “you’re so perfect.”

his hands reach up to tug at the hem of your underwear, and he looks up at you, silently asking for permission to continue. you nod eagerly, lifting your hips off the desk so he can slide them off of you, revealing your glistening entrance.

he whines at the sight, pretty lips parted in shock? awe? as if he can’t wait to taste you. he pushes his face into your pussy, gently at first, but when you moan and bring your hand up to his hair he dives deeper.

the moment he attaches his mouth to your clit, you jump, gasping as you try to shut your legs around his head but his large hands keep you held open. his tongue explores every inch of you, moving back and forth, up and down, mapping out your cunt with his mouth. 

“fuck, never dreamed you’d taste so good,” he sighs against your pussy, leaning away to take a breath after what feels like forever.

your legs are shaking and your cunt is throbbing as you also try to catch your breath. you’re not used to being touched like this and you’re definitely not used to being touched by joshua. so many thoughts running through your head and not a single one of them coherent enough to put into words. all you can do is weakly whine out joshua’s name and tug on his hair, pleading for him to keep going. you need release, and you don’t want it from anyone but him.

he stands up, his pants wrinkled from kneeling on the floor but still tented with a bulge so uncomfortably large you feel dizzy just thinking about it. you don’t even know if he’s going to fuck you or even if he wants to, but god you want to see his cock so bad. too many restless nights spent thinking about it, and now you might finally have the chance to see it in front of your face.

your mouth waters at the thought, and you start to slide off the desk, but joshua stops you. “what are you…?”

you look up at him, eyes blown wide with lust and you don’t even attempt to hide your eagerness. “please let me suck your dick. joshua, please.”

he whines, running a hand through his hair. “god, i want that so bad, but… i don’t think i can last if you do, and i was really hoping to fuck you.”

you close your eyes and roll your head back, moaning at his vulgar confession. but he sighs, and he sounds almost defeated, and you look back at him quickly, afraid he’s suddenly changed his mind.

“i’m not—prepared,” he admits, and you tilt your head in confusion before it sinks in what he means.

“ah. don’t suppose you would have any condoms lying around, would you, mr. pastor’s assistant?” you ask playfully, and he shoots you a glare.

“brat,” he mutters under his breath, but you hear it, and your walls clench in response. “no, i don’t have any. not interested in anybody else, so… no reason to.” he looks like he has more to say, more serious things to say, but he keeps his mouth shut, his eyes searching your face nervously.

your stomach flips at his words, feeling your cheeks heating up. you hadn’t thought you would ever get this far, and especially not with him. because of the kind of school you were at, it wasn’t like the people here were doing the kind of things you’ve been doing—at least not publicly. even if you’d wanted to hook up with somebody (which you didn’t), everyone in your vicinity would shame you for even bringing it up. you may have experience with yourself, but anything with anyone else is completely new territory for you.

you fall silent, not sure how to continue the conversation as all your newfound confidence begins to crumble. what were you thinking? caught up in the heat of the moment, saying things you weren’t sure you meant. you were in love with him: that much you were sure of. but everything that comes after that is too new, too scary, at least for right now. you can barely even comprehend that he just went down on you, but you know you enjoyed it and honestly, you’d give anything for him to do it again. but there’s too much going on inside your head for you to even begin to process that right now.

he calls your name and you blink, looking back at him anxiously. “we… don’t have to. right now, or even at all,” he says gently. the tips of his ears are burning red but his voice is calm and steady.

“joshua, i want to,” you start, clasping your hands tightly together in your lap to give you something to focus on other than the way he’s watching you so intently. “but i– don’t know how.”

“neither do i, baby,” he says. the nickname makes you shiver; even though it’s not the first time he’s called you that, especially after the other night, you’re still not used to it. but somehow it’s comforting, and it makes you relax knowing that he’s still the same person you grew up with, the same person that knows almost everything about you. you’ve both changed so much, but deep down you haven’t changed at all.

he pauses when you don’t say anything back. “we’ll wait, then,” he says and wraps his arms around you, lightly at first but then squeezing when you don’t try to pull away. “we have all the time in the world. no need to rush.”

“we… do?” your voice is laced with uncertainty.

he smiles. “of course. i let you go once already, i’m not letting it happen again. never again.”

you turn your head away from him and hide your face, flustered by how sincere he sounds. he hums, and you can hear the pout in his tone so you fight your embarrassment and turn back towards him to ask the question that’s been weighing on your mind since you first saw him days ago. “this is gonna sound so stupid, but… shua, what are we?”

first you were childhood friends, you were best friends, and then you were nothing. right place, wrong time? and then you were… doing something on the phone together, whatever you could call that. and now you were just sitting on top of his desk, sweating from having almost had sex. how do you even begin to put a label on this?

“well, i’d like to be yours,” he says shyly, and just like that all your questions are answered with six small words. you realize it doesn’t matter what label you have; as long as you have him, that’s all that matters.

“yes,” you breathe, lifting your eyes to finally meet his and you see all the love in his eyes threatening to spill over.

he reaches up to brush a piece of your hair out of your face. “i’m just glad i finally have you back,” he says with a soft smile as he watches you. “we’ll go slow, we’ll wait— whatever you want. whatever it takes not to lose you again.”

you bury your face in his chest with a whine. you’re hiding again, but even the uncomfortable scratchiness of his dress shirt can’t pull you away from him.

“besides, i don’t want our first time together to be in my stupid little office,” he chuckles and holds you tighter against him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head that makes your heart flutter. “you deserve better than that.”

you stay there for a long moment, hugging him like it's the last time you'll ever see him. but this time you know it won't be the last. it's the first, the first of hopefully many, many more.

when you feel like you've been standing there too long, you clear your throat and lean your head back to look at him. "so, um… now what?"

he pauses, those pretty lips turned up in a smile. "do you have plans for lunch?"

"no, i just had that study group you pulled me from. i'm free for the rest of the day."

his smile widens. "perfect. you still like grilled cheese, or did you grow out of that, too?"

you laugh, putting your chin on his shoulder as you hug him. "i haven't changed that much, shua."

after taking a while to collect yourselves (waiting for his erection to go back down so you can leave together without looking suspicious), you walk out of joshua’s office the happiest you've felt in years.

he'd wanted to hold your hand, too, but you were still anxious about anyone seeing you together that you'd refused him until you made it to his car. you were probably just being paranoid and no one would care about two responsible adults talking to each other, but all the time you'd spent hiding from your peers had put you on edge.

so, it wasn't until you were safely out of the church parking lot and in the driveway of his apartment complex that you let him touch you, kissing you over the cupholders with his hands gently holding your neck.

it took everything in you not to climb over the center console and sit on his lap in the driver's seat and kiss him as hard and as deeply as you really wanted, but you knew once you started you wouldn't be able to stop. and besides, he still didn't have any condoms. it didn't bother you either way, since you'd been taking birth control since high school to help with your periods, but if it was what he wanted you'd be more than fine with it.

you don't know what you'd been expecting the inside his apartment to look like; probably some tacky cross-stitch bible verses or a wooden cross hanging on the wall, but his apartment just looked like… a normal apartment. a very clean apartment, actually, though you weren't surprised. he'd always been a neat, organized kid, and it looked like that was one thing he hadn't grow out of.

you watch as he puts his keys on a hook by the door, following him into the kitchen and sitting at one of the chairs.

he grins at you as he opens his refrigerator, pulling out the ingredients for your lunch before taking out a pan.

"shua…" you interrupt him, standing up and walking towards him slowly. "you're not— really thinking about grilled cheese sandwiches right now, are you?"

he hums, eyes following your every movement as the pan sits cold and abandoned on the stove. "there are… other things on my mind, yeah."

"so why are you still trying to make grilled cheese sandwiches?"

by now you're close enough to stand toe to toe with him, and you're sure he can feel the heat radiating off your body when he wraps his hands around your waist, backing you against the kitchen counter. "because i wanna make you lunch. maybe i just wanna spoil my girl a little bit."

a shiver runs down your spine at the new name he calls you. never in a million years did you think this is where you'd end up.

"i think you have all the time in the world to spoil me later, joshua," you mumble, leaning in closer and closer until your lips touch.

in a flash he's hoisting you up and sitting you on the counter. his mouth never leaves yours as you slide your legs around his hips to drag him closer, kisses growing deeper and more desperate now that you can finally be alone together.

his hands slide down your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt and only breaking apart for a second to slide it over your head before his lips are crashing against yours again. 

your hands find his hips, experimentally tugging on his belt to see his reaction. immediately he pulls away from you, 

cheeks flushed and breathing heavily. "sweetheart, i still don't have any condoms. if you really want to now, then we gotta run to the store first."

“i’m on the pill,” you burst out, hoping he gets the message. maybe he has some other reason for wanting to, but you're too impatient to wait for who knows how long it'll take to go to the store, and you don't think you'll be able to keep your hands off him for that long. you don't think you'll be able to keep your hands off of him for even a few seconds.

his face goes blank as he processes your words, struggling to understand if you’re saying what he thinks you’re saying. “you’d let me…?”

you grab onto his arms, a desperate attempt to pull him closer, to feel more of him. “raw, yes, joshua. just—please, i need you,” you beg him, cunt throbbing with neglect as you wait for him to answer. 

he buries his face in your shoulder with a groan, gripping his hands underneath your thighs and sliding you off the counter.

with a shriek you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as he starts to walk out of the kitchen carrying you. "joshua! what the hell are you doing?"

his face is still pressed against your shoulder, and you can feel his lips tickling your bare skin as he speaks. "i'll fuck you on my kitchen counter any day of the week, baby, but i want to have you for the first time in my bed, please?"

his voice is low and whiny, just as desperate for you as you are for him and it makes you moan with excitement. 

he finds his way into his room, stumbling a little when he accidentally runs you into the wall instead of through the doorway, but you just giggle and kiss him harder until he finally drops you on his bed, immediately unbuttoning his shirt.

you run your hands along his chest as he leans over you, feeling the toned muscle that feels almost wrong to be seeing. his physical changes are much more obvious to you now that he's like this, and you know the image will fuel your fantasies for weeks.

your hands move to his belt again and this time he allows it, letting you unbuckle it and toss it away before slowly lowering the zipper. he's already hard again, and your heart races when you put a little bit of pressure on the seam and he lets out a guttural groan in response.

his arms flex as he reaches down to slide your skirt off, and you help him and kick the fabric away, leaving both of you in nothing but your underwear.

joshua pauses, letting his gaze wander your body as you look away shyly. he hums and you look back at him in confusion. "don't hide from me, sweetheart, please," he says, but it comes out more like a whine; not like he's asking, but like he's begging. it's honestly the hottest thing you've ever heard, and even with your nerves he makes it hard to resist.

"dreamt about this for fucking years. years," he moans as he leans over to kiss your chest, reaching behind your body to undo your bra and let it fall away. you whimper when he brings his hands up to cup your breasts, wrapping his mouth around one of your nipples as he starts to slowly grind against your clothed pussy. you can already feel yourself soaking through your panties, and you're sure he can feel it, too.

his hands are like nothing you've ever felt, and you roll your head back against his pillows, arching into him as he massages your breasts with his large hands. you'd noticed them before, but you hadn't realized just how big they were until they were on top of you and made your body seem almost tiny beneath his massive palms.

"shua…" you breathe, tentative hands reaching up to touch his shoulders.

he looks up at you, mouth covered in spit. "yes, angel?"

you whimper at the nickname. no angel you'd ever learned about in sunday school had acted like you are right now, begging a man to fuck you. and on top of that it was before marriage, too; surely if there was a god they would be extremely disappointed in you. but right now you didn't care if the entire universe was disappointed in you, as long as joshua hong wasn't.

it takes you a few more seconds to build up your courage, but finally you open your mouth and tell him, "joshua, please— fuck me."

he slides forward to kiss you again, before sitting back and repositioning himself between your legs. "anything you want, sweetheart."

he lines his cock up at your entrance, and just before you think he's about to push into you, he looks up at you instead. 

"i love you, so much," he says, and you have to fight the urge to hide your face as you grin and giggle like a fucking schoolgirl; like the past version of you would have, if she'd had any sense and figured everything out sooner.

and, like always, he asks, "ready?", and you nod, and it's better than you could've ever imagined.

the whines that leave his mouth drive you close to the edge already as he begins to thrust into you, slowly, gently, just a little bit at a time but it still leaves you gasping from his size.

he keeps moving at a snail's pace until you reach up, fumbling to grab at his bicep as tears nearly spill out of your eyes and beg him, "joshua, more, please."

he leans over you, pressing his body flat against yours as he starts to rock his hips faster, and you cry out from so much pleasure and so much emotion hitting all at once.

"wanted you so fucking bad, for so long, and now you're finally here," he whispers, his thrusts never faltering despite how close in proximity he is to your face.

you whine as your hands claw at his back, digging in as you struggle to hold on and he curses again, pushing into you harder.

"you said i was better than you imagined," he groans, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. "but you're even better than i imagined. you're a fucking angel, so fucking beautiful."

you gasp his name, falling into your orgasm from his words alone as you clench impossibly tight around him. you always thought of him as the nice kid, the rule follower, but here he is, fucking you through the hardest orgasm of your life and saying such filthy things in between praises and compliments.

"jo-oshua, please!" is all you can manage, still struggling to recover before he crests into his own high with a whimper. his eyes scrunch up as he releases inside you, eyelashes fluttering and sweat dripping down his temples, and you think it's the most beautiful sight you've ever seen. 

a constant stream of curses fall from his lips and you swallow them with yours, kissing him as if you're afraid he might disappear into thin air if you don't hold onto him tight enough.

his breaths are shallow when his mouth falls away from you, resting his forehead on your shoulder with a long exhale.

"god…" he starts, then stops and laughs, and you have to tug on his hair to make him face you again.

"what are you laughing at?" you say, cheeks growing hot when he looks at you with droopy, hooded eyes and a lopsided smile.

"nothing," he laughs. "just god. what a funny word."

"and why is that, baby?" you say as you try to hold back a smile, testing out the nickname.

he grins. "because it gave me you. or maybe it didn't. who knows?"

you finally laugh along with him, remembering what he'd said to you on the phone that feels like years ago. "don’t you know it’s a sin to take the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart?”

the church is humming with activity as you make your way to the front pew, carrying two donuts in your hand. people greet you as they mingle about the hall, talking and laughing. some wave excitedly when they see you, others simply smile and offer their hand for you to shake with a friendly “good morning and god bless!”

being a pastor’s wife isn’t something you ever imagined yourself doing, but then again, a lot of things in your life you never imagined doing. you never imagined seeing joshua again, and you never imagined marrying him, either. you certainly didn’t imagine taking over your father-in-law’s church when he retired and decided it was time for joshua to take his place as head of the church. you always knew he would someday, whether he wanted to or not, but you’d be happy to spend the rest of your life by his side no matter where he was or what job he had.

you’d been almost nervous when you decided it was finally time to tell your parents you had been seeing each other, but to your surprise they had been overjoyed at the news. both his family and yours were “just so glad when it happened to be you!”, saying things like “we’d always known it would happen, back since you were children!”, and “so when are we going to get some beautiful little grandchildren to take to sunday school!”

it had been five long and happy years since that very first phone call, and every minute you spend with joshua has been the best of your life.

you walk up the steps to the stage where your husband is waiting, flipping through his notes for the morning’s sermon. you hand him his donut with a grin, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. he smirks at you, imperceptible to everyone else but you can tell what it truly means.

everybody in the congregation always talks you’re the perfect example of a happy, god-loving couple. such nice looking people, so well put together. but behind closed doors, they’d be horrified by the things you say and do together. wolf in sheep’s clothing, as is your husband’s favorite parable to preach.

it’s not the life you imagined, but it’s perfect to you and him.

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[cameronsprincess]

— summary: kook princess. kook prince. perfect match, right? wrong. you hated rafe cameron and everything he stood for. and he hated you. so when your fathers spring it on the two of you that they’d arranged for the two of you to be married, both of your worlds are flipped upside down.

— CW: strong language, forced/arranged marriage, kissing, slight sexual tension, alcohol consumption.

— note: so sorry for how long this has taken me. i’m still unsure how i feel about it but i refuse to scrap it again. feedback is very appreciated! likes, comments, reblogs!

prev parts: one, two

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2 days later…

Y/N

It’s been two days since the encounter with Rafe at the Country Club, and it’s all I’ve thought about. He was drunk, that’s what I’ve been telling myself. He was drunk, and he didn’t actually mean any of the shit he’d said to me. Rafe hated me, just as much if not more, as I hated him.

I needed to shove his face, and the way he looked at me that night, down. I needed to get my head on straight, because tonight… Tonight I had to glue myself to his side and pretend to be happy. Pretend that I was madly in love with my future husband, pretend we didn’t despise one another.

But as much as I tried, I couldn’t. I couldn’t get the look of pure lust he’d had on his face that night out of my head. I couldn’t get the way his hands grabbed at my body out of my head. I couldn’t get the things he’d said out of my head. He was stuck there… Almost like he’d wanted to insert himself deep into my mind and make me trip over myself, wondering, waiting… Did he mean what he said?

I squeeze my eyes shut, hearing his low and raspy voice at the back of my mind.

“Baby, you’re going to be crawling on your hands and knees begging for me to touch you. To kiss you. To please you. You can act like you hate me now, Lord knows I can’t stand you. But even I can admit, you’re fucking gorgeous. And I know you find me somewhat attractive.”

Fuck. What is he doing to me? He is attractive, but I’d never admit that out loud. He’s a fucking douche, and he knows that. I just wish this could be easy, I wish I was being forced to marry someone I somewhat like… That would make this a whole lot easier, but no.. Of course my parents would set this shit up with the Cameron’s. My dad and Ward have only been friends for as long as I can remember.

Fuck them, and fuck Rafe. I-

A knock sounding on my bedroom door rips me from my thoughts, and I sit up fully on my bed, crossing my legs and saying, “Come in.”

My door is pushed open, and I’m met by my mother’s eyes.

“Hey sweetheart, you’ve been locked up here all day, are you okay?”

I fight the scoff that wants to come out, not in the mood to fight with my parents today. Instead, I put on a fake smile and say, “Yeah. I’m fine, just trying to keep my energy up for tonight s’all.”

My mother makes her way to the end of my bed, sitting down and placing a soft hand on my leg. I sigh, knowing this is about to be some long lecture I wasn’t in the mood for.

“Sweetheart, I know how you feel about Rafe.. But this is a good thing, okay? I’m sure the two of you can learn to get along, he’s not that bad of a person is he?”

I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to think of what to say, but my mind fails to think of anything. She has a point. He isn’t that bad. He’s just had a shitty life — Well.. To an extent.

His father was known to be a major ass. I’d personally witnessed the verbal beatings he’d given his son, not to mention the few times I’d seen Ward actually lay hands on him. Rafe didn’t know what it was like to be loved and in turn, didn’t know how to love. Maybe things would be different had his mother not passed when he was only eleven, maybe she would have loved him, and taught him how to love. But we’d never know the answer to that.

“Honey? You still with me?”

I lift my head, finding my mother’s worry filled eyes once more.

I nod my head, “Yeah sorry, mom. I’m just tired. How long do I have until the engagement party? I think I might take a nap.”

Standing from my bed, my mom makes her way to my bedroom door, opening it but stopping to answer my question. “You have about three hours, guests will begin arriving in two. Take you an hour nap, then get ready. Your dress is on the back of your bedroom door. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She closes the door softly behind her, and I throw myself back into my pillows, letting out a deep breath. I close my eyes, hoping I can take a nap and not dream about Rafe and his fucking hands on me, I don’t want him to have this power over me, but fuck if he hasn’t burrowed his way into my head.

-

RAFE

“Rafe, we’re leaving here in twenty minutes!”

I roll my eyes, looking myself over in my bathroom mirror once more and straightening my tie. I just have to get through tonight, and then I don’t have to deal with her again for another few weeks. I could do this.

She’d been on my mind for the last two days though… That night at the Country Club, and how good she’d looked, how her voice sounded. Fuck, how could I have never noticed her like that before? How could I have always overlooked her?

She was fucking beautiful, and fuck her attitude, and the way she looked when she was mad… It had my cock straining for days. I hated her though, and nothing would change that. Not even good pussy would change the fact that I fucking hated her.

I clear my throat, straightening my tie for the millionth time before finally turning away from the bathroom mirror and walking into my bedroom. I make my way over to my nightstand, opening the top drawer and grabbing out the flask I’d had hidden in there.

Quickly unscrewing the cap, I tossed it back, swallowing as much as I could before screwing the top back on and shoving it back into the drawer, closing it. Fuck, I needed to use some mouthwash before I got into a car with my dad. Last thing I need is him bitching me out for drinking before we arrived at the Y/L/N’s house.

After swishing around some mouth wash, i grab my phone, wallet and keys, shoving them all into my pockets before inhaling a deep breath and letting it out slowly. You can do this, Rafe. It’s just the engagement party.. You still have three weeks until you’re officially married off to her.

I make my way down the stairs with one minute to spare, seeing my dad, Rose and two sisters all standing by the front door waiting for me. I meet all of their eyes, one by one taking in the expressions on their faces.

“Let’s go. Don’t wanna be late right?” I say slowly, pushing past all of them and out the door.

-

We arrive at the Y/L/N’s house within five minutes, their driveway and the sides of the street already filled with cars and the yard all the way into the house filled with people. I swallow nervously, running my hands up and down my dress slacks.

“You okay?” I hear Sarah say from the right of me.

I glance down at her, narrowing my eyes. She never gives a shit about me or how I’m feeling.

“Just peachy, Sare. You don’t have to pretend to give a shit about me.”

She scoffs. “I’m not pretending, Rafe. I couldn’t imagine being in your position, I’m just-”

“Look, I’m fine. Can’t be that bad, right?”

Before she even has the chance to respond, I lean over her, opening the car door and looking at her, my face letting her know to get out of the car. She does just that, exiting the car and smoothing down the front of her baby pink dress.

“If you need anything, you can talk to me. I know we don’t get along, but I am your sister, and I do care.”

It feels like a thousand needles prick at my throat, my eyes stinging from tears wanting to well up, but I don’t let them. Fuck, I need a drink. I nod my head at Sarah, thanking her before climbing out of the Range Rover and slamming the door, slowly making my way toward the front porch steps.

As I enter the house, the sound of music and chatter fills my ears, and I can’t help but wince. I’m used to this sort of environment, lots of people, music, the works. But it’s always people my age, and we’re having fun, not celebrating the engagement of two people who could care less about one another. Every last person here is oblivious to the fact that Y/N and I do not want to be married, fucking ignorant bliss.

I make my way into the kitchen, finding various bottles of liquor on the counter tops. I settle for a bottle of Whiskey, grabbing a small glass from the counter and pouring two fingers, tossing it back and pouring another.

“Do not make an ass of yourself tonight, son. I swear to God if you embarrass our families..”

I roll my eyes, slowly turning to face my father who stands so close to my back I can feel his breath on my neck.

“Don’t worry, dad. I won’t embarrass us. I just need a drink or two so I can get through this shit fest.”

My dad’s eyes narrow, but he keeps his mouth shut, turning and storming off into the house, probably in search of Y/N’s father. Good, hopefully Mr. Y/L/N keeps him off my ass tonight.

I toss back the second drink, placing the glass into the sink before shoving my hands into my pockets and slowly working my way through the crowd of people. A lot of the older men and women stop me, shaking my hand and congratulating me. I guess some people already know why they’re here tonight, shocker.

I approach the foyer of the house, scanning the length of the room when my eyes land on her. She looks absolutely beautiful tonight, shit. She’s making it really hard to not notice her lately. Why? I’ve been around her since we were kids, grew up together, and I’ve never paid her any attention. Why now? Maybe it’s because I’m being forced to marry her, so she’s been consuming my mind, or maybe it’s because Topper hasn’t shut the fuck up about her the last five days, ranting and raving about how “hot” she is, and how I should enjoy her. Maybe he’s right, and maybe that’s why I’ve been so infatuated with her these last few days.

Without even realizing it, I make my way toward her. My soon to be wife. The soon to be Mrs. Cameron, mother of my children.

“Hey.” I say lowly, my eyes scanning the length of her body in the tight fitting white dress.

She flicks her gaze up to my face, her eyes searching mine.

“Hi.” she responds.

I swear I see a blush cross her face, and I don’t miss the way she shifts back and forth on her feet, her white strappy heels clicking against the tile floors.

“So, we’re supposed to stay glued together tonight, shall we?” I ask, holding my arm out for her to take.

She hesitates for a moment before finally linking her arm with mine. A weird feeling erupts in my chest, and I shake my head, trying to shake the weird feeling.

We begin walking through the crowd of people, all eyes on us as we try and find our parents, knowing they wanted to go ahead and announce the engagement and wedding date so everyone can enjoy the rest of their night mingling and drinking.

Finally finding our parents, we slowly step up the stairs and onto the landing, standing between our parents — Ward and Rose beside me, her parents beside her.

Ward clears his throat, clinking a small fork on the side of his whiskey glass and getting everyone’s attention.

Fuck, there are so many fucking people here.

“Thank you for coming out tonight everyone. We have a very big announcement to make.”

He stops speaking, turning his attention to Mr. Y/L/N and letting him continue.

Y/D/N places a loving hand on his daughter’s shoulder, clearing his throat and speaking. “We have invited you all here tonight to announce the engagement of our two eldest children, Rafe and Y/N. We wanted to throw this party in their honor tonight, to celebrate two people becoming one.”

I discreetly roll my eyes. Two people becoming one my ass, more like two being being forced together so two companies can become one…

“The wedding will be in three weeks. Saturday June fifteenth. We hope to see all our friends and family there.”

The room erupts in gasps and cheers. A fifty-fifty of mixed emotions throughout. I notice Y/N’s hand tighten around my arm, her eyes scanning the room quickly. I take note of a few girls I’d slept with in the past, glaring at her. Fuck. I need to do something, these girls will eat her alive, they’ll know this is all bullshit. I need to try and make it seem real, but I don’t think Y/N is going to like my plan very much.

I slowly unlink our arms, turning her so she’s facing me and I cup her cheeks in my hands. She sucks in a sharp breath, narrowing her eyes on me.

“Trust me, okay?”

Her chest rises and falls quickly, but she squeezes her eyes shut and nods her head.

Without a second thought, I dip my head down and capture her lips with mine. The kiss is slow and soft at first, but I quickly deepen it, shoving my tongue into her mouth and feeling her body tense up underneath my hands.

She kisses me back, her body relaxing and melting into mine as the sound of the hoots and hollers slowly fade. There’s no one but us in this room. Shit, she’s a good kisser.

She finally pushes me back, wiping the corner of her lips with her hand and staring up into my eyes.

“What… What was that for?” she asks.

I glance behind her, seeing Jessie and Caraline rolling their eyes but stomping away. I can’t help but smirk at that, Y/N is the only girl I’ve publicly shown any affection towards, and they all know that.

I shrug. “I was saving you from being eaten alive by the bitches of my past s’all.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, thanks. But I think I can handle a few girls.”

I can’t help but smile at that. She’s strong, she’s tough, and in three weeks, she’s all mine.

“I bet you can, but, you’re welcome.”

Her eyes continue to search mine, her hands shaking at her sides as she continues to stare up at me. God, my cock is painfully hard right now. I just want to take her up to her room and ruin her innocence, but I won’t. I’ll wait until the wedding night, I can wait three more weeks.

“Now, let’s go enjoy this party. It’s gonna be a long night, baby.”

RAFE TAGLIST: @drewstarkeyslut @princessslutt @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @sturnioloshacker @starkeysprincess @rafescurtainbangz @atorturedpoetx @redhead1180 @jjsmarijuana @romaescapes @kisses4angel @lovelysturnioloos

[angelsfat3]

ꮩ, 你是他的新父亲。 ⸻[the babysitter...]

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Summary: You are a 20 y/o boy looking for a job to pay for his studies. You see that they are offering a large amount of money to take care of a child... What is the worst that can happen?

C/w: Lots of tension, awkwardness? Jay looking like a hormonal teenager in love. －ㅤTw: Divorce, insecurity (fear)?, nothing more | correct me if I'm wrong anyway!

Genre: fluff, suggestive, ceo!Jay x student!reader.

A/N: Dilf Jay has been in my drafts for 2 weeks now, I finally decided to finish it. And no, I don't plan on doing a 2n part, just imagine the rest. (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

the introduction is a bit long... My bad.

Previously...

Being William's nanny, the son of the illustrious CEO Park Jongseong, was far more than just a job. From day one, you realized you were stepping into a world vastly different from the one you knew. The Park mansion was an imposing place, brimming with luxury and meticulous details, yet it carried an atmosphere that made you feel as though you were constantly being watched.

Your first encounter with Jay—Park Jongseong, to be precise—was more formal than you had anticipated. They led you to his office, where he sat behind an expansive desk, engrossed in paperwork. He didn’t look up immediately, but when he finally did, his eyes met yours in a way that sparked an instant connection, though it was a connection you couldn’t quite define.

“So, you’re [...],” he said, his voice steady and controlled, yet there was an undercurrent of something more. “William is my top priority. I trust you can handle everything that comes with taking care of him.”

The first time he introduced you to William was a pivotal moment. The boy, small and inquisitive, regarded you with initial wariness, but the presence of his father beside him seemed to offer reassurance. Over time, William began to warm up to you, his smiles and laughter gradually becoming a cherished part of your daily routine.

Your relationship with Jay, however, unfolded differently. At first, you only saw him in passing as he left for or returned from work. But soon, you noticed that his visits to the living room, where you played with William, or to the kitchen, where you prepared dinner for his son, grew more frequent. It wasn’t uncommon to catch him silently watching you, his eyes tracking your every movement.

These encounters began to create a charged atmosphere, as if something unspoken was emerging between the two of you. Words were few, but the glances exchanged spoke volumes, far more than either of you were willing to admit. And though William was always at the center of these interactions, it was clear that the tension between you and Jay had nothing to do with the child.

One afternoon, as William napped in his room, you crossed paths with Jay in the hallway. The encounter was unexpected, but no less significant. Jay held your gaze for a long moment, his dark eyes searching yours.

“Is William okay?” he asked, but there was more layered beneath the surface of his words than their simple meaning suggested.

“Yes, he’s asleep,” you replied, feeling the air around you grow heavier. It was as though you both were waiting for something more to happen, yet neither dared to make the first move.

The moment that changed everything came when Jay called you to his office to pay you. As you entered, you sensed something different in his demeanor, a kind of anticipation. When he handed you the envelope, he did so almost casually, but as you reached out to take it, your fingers brushed against his. The touch was fleeting, yet it was enough to make you both pause.

For a brief moment, his fingers moved slightly, as though instinctively tracing yours. It was a subtle gesture, yet laden with meaning. You felt a warmth spread through you, a nervousness you hadn’t felt before. Jay seemed to feel it too, his eyes locked on yours as the tension in the room thickened.

Just as the moment seemed to stretch on endlessly, a distant sound broke the spell. William had woken up and was crying. The sound shattered the moment, and you quickly withdrew your hand, mumbling something about going to check on William.

You left the office with your heart pounding, knowing something had shifted, but unsure what to do about it.

From then on, every encounter with Jay in the mansion carried a new emotional weight, a kind of electricity that you both tried to ignore but that grew stronger with each passing day.

Present:

It's been a few weeks since you began working as William's personal nanny, following Jay's orders. The Park mansion, which once felt cold and distant, has gradually become familiar to you. You now know every corner, every hallway, and have grown accustomed to the soft murmur of hushed conversations among the staff, the faint echo of the piano resonating from the lounge, and the ever-present yet silent presence of Jay.

Yet, lately, something has shifted. You feel it in the way Jay looks at you whenever he finds you in the kitchen, the garden, or even in the playroom with William. There’s an intensity in his gaze that wasn’t there before, a kind of anticipation that leaves you uneasy.

One afternoon, as you're preparing William's snack, Jay unexpectedly enters the kitchen. His presence startles you; he's usually in his office or at meetings. It's unusual for him to spend this much time at home during the day.

"Need any help with that?" he asks, moving closer to the counter where you're slicing some fruit.

You glance at him sideways, surprised by his offer. "No, it's alright, thank you. I'm just preparing something light for William."

Jay remains beside you, standing too close for comfort. You can feel the warmth of his body next to yours, his arm brushing against yours as he picks up an apple from the fruit bowl.

"You've done a great job with him, you know," Jay remarks, taking a bite of the apple. "William adores you. It’s like you’re a second father to him."

"He's... a good kid," you reply, avoiding his gaze. You keep your eyes fixed on the knife in your hand, trying to ignore Jay's proximity, the scent of his expensive cologne that he always wears, and the way his deep voice seems to caress your senses along with that comment... "Second father?" your mind lingered on that phrase as you expertly cut the fruit.

Jay sets the apple aside and looks at you intently, as if waiting for something. "I've noticed you've been spending more time here at the house lately. You seem more at ease."

You nod slowly, unsure of what to say. "Yes, I suppose I'm getting used to the place."

"I'm glad to hear that," Jay responds, and there's a tone in his voice that makes you pause.

When you finally look at him, you find his eyes locked on yours, serious, as if searching for something in your expression. "I want you to feel at home, [...]. You're important to William... and to me."

That last sentence hangs in the air between you, laden with a meaning you’d rather not dwell on too much. You feel your breath quicken slightly, but you force yourself to stay composed.

"Thank you, Jay," you manage to say, striving to keep your tone casual. "That means a lot to me."

He smiles, but there's something else in his gaze, something you can't quite pinpoint—more so because his gaze was like knives piercing into you. And then, as if testing the limits of your self-control, Jay leans in a little closer, his lips almost brushing your ear.

"I don't just want you to be William's nanny," he whispers, his voice smooth and velvety, "I want you to stay here... for me, for both of us."

Your heart pounds wildly, and you pull back slightly, trying to maintain your composure. You know there's more behind his words, something beyond the professional relationship—one that you’re supposed to have.

Jongseong seems to notice your unease and steps back slightly, giving you the space you clearly need. "I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable," he says, and although his tone is kind, you can’t help but notice the disappointment in his eyes.

"No... it's alright," you respond, stealing one last glance at him. Both of you know it isn’t entirely alright. The air between you is thick, laden with something you’re both trying to ignore.

With a sigh, you finish cutting the fruit and place it on a plate. "I’m going to take this to William... he should be in the playroom."

Jay nods, his eyes following your every move as you head toward the door. Just as you’re about to leave, you hear his voice behind you.

"[...]," he calls, and his tone is more serious than you’ve ever heard before.

You pause at the door, slowly turning to face him. Jay is standing in the same spot, arms crossed over his chest, his expression grave.

"If you ever feel uncomfortable... if you ever feel like I'm crossing a line, just tell me. I don’t want you to think that I’m pressuring you or, worse, harassing you."

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, you feel a surge of emotions you don’t quite know how to handle. You simply nod slowly, appreciating his consideration—though both of you know things won’t go back to how they were.

"I will, Jay. Thank you."

With that, you leave, but the weight of the conversation lingers, making you question what exactly Jay wants from you... and what you feel for him.

The following days are filled with those silent moments, lingering glances that last a bit longer than necessary, the brush of hands when he hands you something or when you run into him in the hallways. These small gestures, which might seem insignificant to others, become the focal point of your world, making you question the relationship you have with Jay and what it might mean for the future.

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It was a Friday night, and the house was cloaked in near-total silence. You were in William’s room, gently rocking the child in your arms. His eyelids drooped slowly as you hummed a soft melody, preparing to lay him down to sleep.

The boy held onto the bottle you were cradling for him, his breaths growing deeper and more rhythmic.

With careful precision, you eased William onto his bed, ensuring he didn’t stir. You lingered for a few moments, a tender smile forming on your lips as you lightly brushed your fingers across his cheek.

Slowly, you slid the bottle from his mouth, keenly aware of any sudden movements that might disturb his sleep, but the child only sighed, snuggling into his pillow, peacefully lost in dreams, clutching a stuffed toy imbued with the scent of his father.

You turned with the intent to quietly exit the room, but froze when you noticed Jay leaning against the doorway.

His arms were crossed, and a gentle smile played on his lips as he watched the tender scene between you and his son. The soft light from the hallway outlined his figure, highlighting the serenity in his expression, though his eyes conveyed something deeper.

“You’re really good with him,” Jay murmured, his voice low, careful not to wake William.

“Thank you,” you whispered back, trying to ignore the sudden quickening of your heartbeat. His words, though simple, carried a warmth that left you feeling vulnerable.

Jay stepped forward, his gaze still locked on you. “I need to speak with you in my office. It’s time to give you your monthly payment.”

You nodded, attempting to mask the nervousness that crept in. As you passed him in the doorway, you took care not to brush against him, yet his nearness made you acutely aware of the shared space between you. Jay followed closely as you left the room, quietly closing the door behind you so as not to disturb William’s sleep.

The walk to Jay’s office was silent, yet the tension between you was unmistakable. Each step echoed in your ears as you tried to maintain your composure. Upon reaching the office, Jay opened the door, motioning for you to enter first.

Once inside, the atmosphere shifted; the intimacy of the office, with its dark wood-paneled walls and the warm glow of the desk lamp, seemed to encapsulate everything that was unfolding between you.

Jay moved towards his desk, pulling an envelope from the top drawer. He took his time, as though the weight of the moment was more significant than the mere transaction about to take place.

You approached slowly, trying to appear calm, though the anticipation in the air made it difficult to focus.

“This is your payment,” Jay said, extending the envelope toward you. When you reached out to take it, his fingers brushed against yours. It was a fleeting touch, yet it was enough to make both of you pause, as if time itself had halted for just a moment.

Your eyes met, and though neither of you spoke, the subtle caress between your hands lingered for a few seconds longer. It was as if you were both caught in a silent dance, one in which neither you nor Jay dared to be the first to pull away.

You felt a sense of déjà vu—everything was happening just like the previous month, but this time, you didn’t want to pull away... You were savoring his warmth.

Finally, you snapped out of it, withdrawing your hand with a mix of nervousness and something you couldn’t quite define. “Thank you,” you murmured, stepping back.

Jay, however, remained unmoved, his gaze fixed on you as if he were wrestling with something in his mind. There was an intensity in his eyes, a tension that made the air in the room feel even heavier.

Though the silence between you had grown thick, a part of you yearned for him to say something more, something that might shatter the invisible barrier that seemed to keep you both ensnared in roles that no longer felt so defined.

Just as discomfort began to settle in your chest, the faint sound of a baby monitor on the desk broke the moment.

It was William.

With a sigh, you took a step back. “I need to check on William; he might have woken up,” you said, more to yourself than to Jay, before turning quickly and exiting the office, your heart racing.

You were determined to push aside whatever you were feeling, tucking the envelope of money into your back pocket as you made your way swiftly to the door. The less time you spent alone with Jay, the better...

Before you could take another step toward the door, Jay’s hand grasped yours firmly. The grip was determined, almost as if he wanted to ensure you wouldn't escape—no, not this time.

You stopped, your heart pounding in your chest as you slowly turned to face him, unwilling to hold his gaze for too long.

Jay was closer than you had expected. His dark eyes, brimming with an intensity you could barely endure, locked onto yours.

He said nothing at first but took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look directly at him; the silence in the room was dense, charged with palpable tension. The atmosphere between you was electric, as if you both knew you were on the brink of something irreversible.

Jay took a step forward, and though your instinct urged you to retreat, your body remained still, caught in the invisible force radiating from him.

You could feel the warmth of his body mere centimeters from yours, and just being so close made you feel vulnerable in a way you hadn’t experienced before.

“[...]” Jay murmured, his voice low with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. “If you don’t want this, if it’s too much, tell me now.”

His words hung in the space between you, but instead of responding immediately, you found yourself trapped in his gaze, unable to look away. Part of you wanted to tell him to stop, that this was wrong, but another part—one that grew with each passing second—wanted nothing more than to give in.

“Jay...” you began, but your voice faltered as he took another step, closing the remaining distance between you.

You could feel his breath on your skin, and before you could say another word, he raised the hand holding yours to his lips.

“Stop me... push me away... or hit me, but do it before I go any further,” Jay whispered against your hand, his lips brushing your skin with a softness that made you shiver.

You wanted to do each of the things he suggested. But you didn’t. You didn’t move, didn’t speak. You just stared at him, your breath caught in your throat, as he leaned in, his free hand moving to your jaw, ensuring you couldn’t pull away.

When his lips finally met yours, the world seemed to fade away.

The kiss started gently, a delicate exploration as if he were testing your limits. But soon, it became more assured, more intense, and you found yourself responding without thinking. Your lips moved with his in perfect harmony, as if they had been destined to meet this way from the start.

Jay drew you closer, his hand on your hips, pulling you toward him until there was no space left between your bodies.

You could feel each heartbeat of his resonating through his chest, and the warmth of his touch enveloped you, making everything else fade away. His fingers glided over your jaw, moving slowly to tangle in your hair, while his lips moved with a tenderness that contrasted with the intensity of his grip.

With every passing second, the tension between you grew, becoming almost unbearable.

Jay pulled back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes, his breath ragged as he rested his forehead against yours.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to do this,” Jay whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of desire and something deeper you couldn’t fully grasp due to the kiss and his presence. “From the moment I saw you with William... I knew there was something about you, something I couldn’t ignore, something that made me think of you as his father.”

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, you felt completely exposed, as if he could see through every one of your defenses.

He tried to move closer again, but this time, you were the one who pulled back slightly, reason finally taking control over the desire bubbling inside you.

“Jay, this can’t happen...” you whispered, trying to maintain composure, though the words sounded weak even to your own ears.

Jay didn’t let go. His hold on your waist remained firm, and his eyes studied you, searching for any sign that you truly wanted to stop this.

“Why not? What are you afraid of, [...]?” His voice was a whisper, but there was an urgency in it, a need to understand why you were pulling away when it was clear that you both wanted the same thing.

Before you could respond, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the mansion, followed by footsteps rapidly approaching the office. A soft knock on the door made both of you freeze, and you felt your heart race as you recognized the butler’s voice outside.

“Mr. Jay, Miss Eunjen has arrived... she says she’s here to discuss the details of the divorce.”

The mention of his ex-wife was like a bucket of cold water, bringing reality crashing back.

Jay let out a disgusted growl, his jaw tensing as he turned his gaze toward the door, visibly irritated by the interruption. The tension in his body was palpable, and though he still hadn’t released you, you could sense that something had changed in him.

“Always the damned divorce...” Jay muttered, more to himself than to you, before finally letting you go, though not without leaving a hand on your arm, as if he wasn’t quite ready to let you go completely.

“[...]” Jay whispered, looking at you with a mix of frustration and desire, “this isn’t over. I’m not going to let whatever’s happening between us end like this.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks at the intensity of his words, but you knew there was no time to discuss it.

The fear of being discovered, combined with the reality of the situation, was too great.

“Jay... you should go,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to stay calm. “I... I need to check on William.”

Jay nodded, though clearly reluctantly, but before releasing you completely, he leaned in one last time, placing a firm, possessive kiss on your neck, right at the base of your throat.

The gesture was so intimate, so charged with repressed emotions, that it made you close your eyes for a moment, wanting to prolong that contact.

“This isn’t over, [...], not for me... and I hope not for you either,” he murmured against your skin before finally pulling away, his eyes burning with a promise as he headed for the door to face Eunjen.

As Jay walked away, you stood there, leaning against the office door, trying to regain your composure, knowing that what had just happened would change everything, but not quite knowing how.

메모 ! 📌ㅤ⸻ㅤ I was absent for a bit because of my bad internet, and I finally finished some requests and perfected the second and last writing of “everything, you are my everything” !!!!

아이디어 !ㅤ⸻ㅤI'm very short of ideas lately, so feel free to leave me any requests! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>

ㅤㅤ All credits to @angelsfat3 / @foschiamara.

If you liked it you can like, follow me or reblog!! <3

[simonrileysfavteacup]

Simon From The Wiggles

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x wife!reader

Word Count: 632

Warnings: dad!simon, mom!reader, simon's first born son being named tommy after his brother, fluff

Summary: Coming home after a mission to his favourite people in the world, Simon experiences one of the best moments of his life.

(this is the guy being spoken about)

Simon had been off on a mission for a month or so, practically crawling to get back to you and your son, Tommy. The little bugger had just surpassed 10 months and he had began babbling. He was the most adorable thing and you both loved him to death. He was the light in the dark for Simon, much like you were the sun to his rain. 

When he finally did step back into your home, he immediately heard giggles coming from the living room. Tommy’s sweet little giggles. His babbling too, echoing throughout your house. He stripped off his gear, leaving everything by the door, including his mask. Simon stepped into the living room in just his compression shirt and tactical pants, smiling at the sight of you sitting on the ground, holding Tommy on your lap. 

The little boy’s eyes light up at the sight of his father, kicking his legs to get to him. Poor guy still doesn’t understand how walking works. Simon smiles, bending down to take the boy into his arms, tossing him up into the air and catching him again like a ball, just how he likes. 

You stand up, pressing a kiss to Simon’s cheek, smiling. “Hi honey, welcome home.”

He grins, “Hi lovie. You both have fun withou’ me?”

“Lots,” you nod at Tommy, nudging him with your nose. “Ain’t that right, bubba?”

The little boy giggles and fills the house with his little babbles. The sight makes Simon’s heart flutter. 

“Why don’t you two sit down, huh? I’m gonna go get started on dinner,” you kiss Tommy’s temple and Simon’s cheek. 

You head into the kitchen, preparing dinner. 

Simon sits down with Tommy, placing the little boy on his lap as he turns the tv volume back up. 

There’s these 3 guys, in different coloured shirts–blue, purple, and red–singing, with a girl in a yellow dress, bow in her hair. They look Simon’s age. He chuckles. Tommy’s face lights up, squealing.

“Mi-mom!” The boy babbles. 

Simon blinks. He does a double take. “What you sayin’, bubby?”

The boy giggles, still staring at the screen. He claps his hands, “Mi-mon!” 

It’s more audible this time too. But Simon still hears what he heard before.

“Lovie! He said i’! He said his firs’ word! My name! Lovie!” he shouts. 

You poke your head back into the living room. “Really?”

“Yeah! Say it agai’, bubby! Come on!” Simon’s voice is filled with excitement.

“Mi-mon! Mi-mon! Mi-mon!” Tommy claps and giggles at the top of his lungs. 

“Damn it, bubby. You ruined the surprise,” you shake your head. 

Simon furrows his brows in confusion. Why aren’t you excited like he is? Your first child just said his first word!

“Whadya mean, lovie? ‘his is amazin’!” Simon tosses his baby boy into the air. “My name!” 

“He wasn’t referring to you, Si,” you bite your lip to hold back a giggle. “One of his favourite characters in that show is called Simon…he said his name 2 days ago…I was going to surprise you.”

“What? What show?” Simon remains confused. 

“Simon…from…the wiggles…”

“‘M sorry, lovie, what the fuck did you jus’ say?” 

“The red guy on the tv, that’s him…” 

“The old guy? Tommy loves ‘im?” 

“Mhm.” 

The little boy in question is kicking to get back to the tv. 

“I’m sorry, honey…I know you were super excited and you should still be! His first word was Simon! We can tell people it was for you!” 

“Lil bugger,” Simon nudges his son. “Say it again.”

The boy giggles, not yet understanding his father. 

“Si, it’s a good thing, right?” you smile. 

“‘Course, lovie, he’s gonna be talkin’ soon, and he’ll be able to say daddy,” Simon tickles the boy. “Ain’t that right, Mi-mon?” 

Tommy’s eyes light up. “Mi-mon!” 

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER FOUR

04 : BEGINNINGS

CHPT. SUM. : beginning new things is always fun. getting to know your sons, them finally being able to experience having a loving mother, sirius going to school, and you planning for everything that was yet to come so that everyone gets to the happy ending they deserve. 

LENGTH : 11.8k

TAGS : domestic fluff ; orion being a bad father ; original walburga being a nuisance ; reader being an amazing mother and an amazing cook ; regulus has food preferences ; brotherhood between sirius and regulus ; marauders spotted in the wild ; sirius and regulus being precious babies ; reader disrespecting walburga ; mentions of infertility ; mentions of divorce ; lots of future planning

← PREV. 03 : SHOPPING (2/2) | SERIES M.LIST

9th August 1971 

It, surprisingly, took very little to get past Orion on the topic of changing Sirius and Regulus’ private tutors. However, when you truly looked at his workaholic tendencies, your initial surprise should have been the more startling reaction — of course, he wouldn’t care, he’s too fixated on the happenings with his position on the Wizengamot to be aware of much else, discounting the protective wards he put up around the property. Nevertheless, it was good news for you and your boys. Finally, they would be getting more suitable tutors, who catered to their learning needs in a more digestible way. You had only recently sent out the notice, though, so you don’t expect many replies to be coming in soon. Your only wish was to have fallen into this universe sooner, that way you would have had more time with Sirius before he left to attend Hogwarts as a first year. 

Walburga didn’t have a formal occupation other than monitor her boys so having Sirius leave for his first year would mean less work for her and, subsequently, you. However, it’s not as if she needed the money; she’s the matriarch of an incredibly privileged family, meaning that her financial worries are close to non-existent. Both, the affluent family fortune and her lack of professional ambitions have you stumped, it’s something you’re not used to at all. Perhaps that’s why she’s so obsessed with control and the activity of her two sons; it’s not healthy and you don’t even want to attempt to understand what she was thinking—

“Of course you won’t!” Walburga snarls from the depths of your consciousness, her tone dripping with malice and a hint of something sinister. “I don’t expect someone who failed at becoming a mother to understand the right and true tribulations of bringing up children,” 

“…how did you know that?” you ask aloud, no longer satisfied with simply trying to call for the bitch - Walburga’s - attention in your head. She didn’t seem to want to reply, which only made your blood boil; her prolonged silence, the trigger to releasing your rapidly escalating rage.  How dare she?! How dare she strike you where it hurts the most, only to turn completely unresponsive when you demand answers, “Answer me!”  Thick tensions fill the room when she does not answer, the silence suffocating and poisonous. Taking a slow, deep breath, you engage control over your anxious heart and trembling hands once more. 

Work. You need work. Something to focus on so that you don’t dwell on memories that will only bring you heartache. It worked before so it’ll work for you now. It had worked so well, in fact, that you were able to build an empire out of it, perhaps you could replicate the same results this time. 

“Screw you then, ugly pig, I have more important matters to attend to anyway,” pulling out a drawer, you scatter your notes across the desk and move with fretful fever but, also, enthusiasm above them. No matter the change of environment, you can always trust in your habits to push you forward. Walburga mainly worked on keeping the boys in line as the official matriarch of the Black household but that’s all her world revolved around, she had no hobbies or any close friends other than her relatives whom she communicated with, somewhat, regularly. With a guilty ache in your chest, you kept a gradually growing stack of letters in the bottom-most drawer of the hard oak desk, not yet knowing how to respond to people you barely knew. However, you suppose their relations to a character like Walburaga make it slightly easier to ignore their communications. The affiliation doesn’t warrant your precious time. If you could send a passive-aggressive email, you might be more willing, but the extended process of having to write out the letters and then send them via owl wasn’t worthwhile. 

The priority on your list of important affairs is ensuring your boys’ happy and safe future. Sirius will not have to choose between Regulus and his friends, he will not suffer being blasted off the family tree, he will not have to be ashamed of his family, he will not have to witness his close friend’s death through another’s betrayal, and he will not be forced to go to Azkaban. Similarly, Regulus will not have to suffer Sirius abandoning him, he will not have to face his prejudicial parents alone, he will not be forced into getting the dark mark, he will not have to make the sacrifice he had to make at such a young age, he will not die a miserable and lonely death, and he will not be forgotten! You will make sure of it. 

Coming into the world as a Harry Potter and Marauders fan, you’re well-equipped with all the knowledge required to make the right decisions. The only problem is that the Marauders era has been a largely vague timeline that most of the fandom filled in for themselves so you’ll have to tread carefully. This will require meticulous planning, a steady rise to power and a conglomeration of useful allies to help set your plans into motion. Modern-day knowledge and business etiquette will serve you well here. You’ve survived toxic work environments, won in the race to riches, and dealt with all manner of manipulative, sexist swine you could ever think to encounter. If you play your cards right, you’re sure to win. 

“As if a muggle like you could conquer the wizarding world!” Walburga finally makes her appearance once again. And, of course, it’s for the sake of belittling you whilst making your head throb painfully from her distasteful screeches. 

“Shut up,” you hiss unapologetically, resisting the urge to smirk, “Unlike you, I know the future—” breathing the words aloud brings a blaring, singular thought to the front of your mind. The vision you witnessed at the Owl Emporium replays in your head once more…

How in the world did Walburga know about the biting habit of Sirius’ future owl?… 

Several moments pass achingly slow as you anticipate the aggravating screeching of Walburga to return. When no such wailing occurs or interrupts your train of thought, your mind immediately begins to spiral. 

How could Walburga remember being at the Emporium, shopping for Sirius’ first year at Hogwarts when she had yet to go shopping with him in the first place? They couldn’t have already gone, right? Orion would have said something if they were being inefficient enough to go a second time. That or the boys would have definitely made some comment… 

This felt like an urgent matter that needed your immediate attention but you had to prioritise other things for now. It’s not like the original Walburga was going to give you the answers you needed so it wasn’t any use pressing on the matter. It’s best to turn your focus and efforts elsewhere. Peering back at your scattered notes, you raise your newly acquired wand and utter the crafting spell you had learned recently. 

“Libeligare,” As you wave your wand over the desk, activity springs forth. In a flurry of animated pages and whistling currents in the air, your disordered notes compile themselves appropriately before binding themselves into a fresh notebook. It doesn’t have a hard cover and you debate on transfiguring a decorative letter set piece into one but think against it. This will do nicely for the moment. 

Finally, all your detailed plans are in one place. 

10th August 1971 

With nothing better to do and desperate for a decent meal, you address the home-cooked meals situation. Every dish served at the Black household was so unappetising and bland, that you couldn’t believe that the family was one of the most influential and richest families to exist in the wizarding world. You’re beginning to believe that the Blacks were the type of family to indulge in unpalatable spreads with the reasoning that they refuse to eat the same meals as those lesser than them. How childish. Even in your city-centre penthouse, you ordered take-out frequently and ate ordinary home-cooked meals that were comforting and warm. The memories make you compare all the meals you’ve had in Grimmauld Place and blanch abhorrently. This wouldn’t do, especially for your growing boys. They need to be well-fed so that they grow up healthy and strong. 

“Mistress!” Kreacher shrieks behind you, making you jump and spin around all at once. The hunched-over house elf dashes through the kitchen space clumsily and with much vigour, he pulls painfully at his drooping ears as his eyes bulge out from seeing you, his mistress, the matriarch, in the kitchen cooking! Without magic! 

“Don’t be so dramatic, Kreacher,” you chuckle softly and turn back to your food prep, “I’m just trying to cook an easy breakfast for my boys,” if you could truly have it your way then you would cook enough only for you and your two darling sons to eat. Orion would have to sort his own plate. But you’re not divorced yet so you suppose this is a compromise you’ll have to make. 

“I-It is not mistress’ job, let Kreacher do it—!” the house elf, reaches forward to take the kitchen utensils from you but you’re too swift. 

“I want to cook the food Kreacher,” you argue and continue pottering about the kitchen as if it was just another Tuesday morning, all while Kreacher follows you around helplessly. He’s clearly stuck between letting you have your way or forcing you to let him cook instead. Both felt wrong in different ways considering his position as the house elf, and he was brought to a standstill. The poor guy looked ready to throw himself off a cliff from the indecision and panic.  

Having sympathy for the elf, you call to him over your shoulder, “Kreacher can you please pass me the eggs?” this feels like a good even ground to dance on. Soon enough you’ll be teaching Kreacher how to finally relax. Kreacher appeared happy to finally be doing something but as soon as he hesitantly handed over the eggs, he was back to being anxious all over again. Even though you are the matriarch of the household, you supposed you’ll have to share the kitchen with a very distressed house elf for the foreseeable future. 

For the rest of the morning, you’ve asked Kreacher to help you with crisping up the beacon, cleaning the mushrooms, opening up the can of beans, toasting the bread and laying out the table. No more tasteless, boring porridge for breakfast with no toppings, today you’re serving a Full English. Admiring the spread, you thank Kreacher for his assistance before undoing your apron and putting the finishing touches to the dining table just as the rest of the family make it down for breakfast. 

“What is all this?” Orion asks in slight surprise when catching sight of breakfast for the day, “Is today very important?”

“No,” nonchalance keeps your tone controlled just as your precious babies walk through the door and hop into their designated seats at the table, one more enthusiastic than the other, “I’m just tired of plain old porridge every day,”

“Porridge is delicious,” Orion defends.

“Every day?” from the look in his eyes, you don’t know whether or not you’ve bested him so turn a serene smile his way instead, “I can always ask Kreacher to make you porridge if you really want,” 

Orion takes a moment to observe the full, vibrant plate of bacon, toast, grilled tomatoes, sautéed mushrooms, sausages, black pudding, scrambled eggs and beans. If he takes any longer to play indecisive, the food will get cold and your precious babies are waiting on his dainty, princess-ass to make a decision— can you hurry the fuck up?! you want to scream at him. Every meal is started after his first bite (the pretentious, narcissistic douche) so he needs to make up his mind quickly or else you’ll lose yours waiting around! 

“…it’ll be a waste, this will do,” he finally picks up his knife and fork to begin eating and you have to reign yourself in before you roll your eyes too noticeably at his conceited behaviour. Your babies behave better than him. The prick! 

Turning to your boys, you observe Sirius and Regulus digging into their own meals before finally taking a bite out of yours. It felt good to see their eyes light up like that, especially Sirius’ — it makes you want to giggle at how obviously he had been wanting to devour his beans and toast the instant he laid eyes on them. 

Breakfast continues pleasantly as everyone enjoys their meal until you begin to notice some peculiar movement in the corner of your eye. You try to be as subtle as you can, considering the uncommon calm that has fallen over the dining table; it isn’t usually this comfortable around the table so you wanted to preserve the ambience as much as possible. The source of your curious gaze was Sirius and Regulus. 

Covertly, Regulus sneaks spoonfuls of his scrambled eggs onto Sirius’ plate, who proceeds to eat up his younger brother’s share as quickly as possible. Regulus was doing this willingly despite this morning’s breakfast being the first appetising meal he’s had yet. It won’t be the last either. However, from the way Sirius is scarfing down the food whilst trying to remain as silent as possible, it wouldn’t be surprising if Sirius eventually suffers from a stomachache later on. You wonder what could be the matter with the scrambled eggs. Was the seasoning off? Kreacher helped taste test every element of the meal and gave his stellar praise for your unrealised culinary skills so you’re more than a bit confused at the scene. After swallowing all remnants of food in your mouth, you gently raise a question. 

“Regulus?” your youngest freezes up immediately, making your brows furrow but still, you continue in a soft voice, “What’s wrong?” Deep in your chest, you feel your heart clench in worry at the deer-in-headlights expression plastered across Regulus’ cherubic face. 

You are met with only silence, “do you not like your eggs, darling?” you try meeting your youngest’s eyes but he’s terrified to even face your direction. Instead, he’s firmly steered his gaze down to his lap and keeps it there, frozen in place. 

There’s a slam of the table and everyone stiffens. At the head, Orion stares disapprovingly at Regulus, who begins to tremble like a leaf, “How rude!” the patriarch spits with such force and bite that his saliva lands halfway down the lengthy dining table. He’s so scandalised by his son’s behaviour that the cold from his freezing gaze drops the temperature in the room lower than it already is. “How many times have we talked about this Regulus? Finish your plate at once or else it’ll be the last meal you eat today!”

“He’s not being rude!” you counter, flying out of your seat and making your way to Regulus, “And he shouldn’t be forced to eat something he doesn’t like nor punished harshly for disliking something,” Crouching down, you position yourself to block Orion from Regulus’ line of sight despite his frightened doe-eyes remaining transfixed on his lap. His small hands are turned into small, knuckle-white fists, gripping fiercely at the fabric of his trousers. A paralysed statue of fear incarnate, your little boy doesn’t deserve this! If you could ‘Avada Kedavra’ Orion’s pathetic, prissy ass, you would in a heartbeat. 

From your peripheral, you notice how Sirius had placed a comforting hand over one of Regulus’ closed fists and the sight made your heart bloom with pride and joy — seeing how well they take care of each other was so heartwarming. “Tell me what’s wrong, Reg…I promise I won’t get mad,” you make sure to keep your voice in a low whisper so that only your son can hear but also loud enough that Orion’s distant grumbling is disguised. 

“Do you not like eggs?” your prompting remains gentle and patient, hoping for a fraction of understanding. That’s all you really want. 

Sensing no antagonistic feeling in your tone, Regulus finally wills himself to speak, although barely audible from insecurity, “I….I don’t like scrambled eggs…”

“No? What about them don’t you like?”

"They feel weird in my mouth, I don’t like chewing them,” he explains shyly, his confession dripping with shame. His grey eyes look into your own remorsefully and, before he can utter an apology, he is stopped by the shaking of your head.

Smiling warmly, you pat his small hand and voice your reassurance, “That’s a reasonable preference to have. Do you not like the texture?” Regulus nods in confirmation as his small, tense shoulders slowly ease up, “Do you not like eggs at all or do you like them cooked in a particular way?” 

Regulus’ eyes widen with surprise. Never before had his mother been so attentive to his preferences like this. On the contrary, His mother was always the first to make him feel embarrassed for his picky tendencies when it came to food, especially over dishes that make him lose his appetite entirely, oysters and shellfish being the main culprit. He really didn’t like them at all. Many times, they were the appetiser to multiple-course meals hosted by pureblood, elitist wizarding families so Walburga was determined to season her son’s palettes early on in life. It was good etiquette to eat such foods and to know how to eat them properly. If he didn’t display appropriate dinner etiquette at the table then he is lesser, he is unworthy of the Black family name and blood running through his veins, he is unbecoming of his heritage, he is a disgrace— 

“I can cook eggs in many other ways,” you suggest thoughtfully, voice remaining soft and comforting, “I can fry them for you? Or I can boil them? Do you like your yolk runny or firm?” 

Regulus, spurred on by your softly placed questions feels the corners of his lips tug upwards, “fried eggs, please…”

His innocuous answer makes you beam, “with a runny or firm yolk, darling?”

“Runny, please,” Regulus finds your bright expression infectious and begins to smile a little wider too. Over the slope of his little brother’s small shoulders, Sirius is grinning from ear to ear; finally, Regulus isn’t going to be forced to eat something he doesn’t enjoy. The elation makes Sirius’ chest swell as his heart pinches slightly at the memory of his little brother retching up the contents of his stomach in the bathroom. Those disastrous, past meals started badly and they ended badly too. Peering at you with smiling eyes, Sirius knows that he won’t need to worry about that any more. 

“Of course, right away," you’re eager to leave and fix up Regulus’ plate but you also worry about leaving him with Orion at the dinner table; your husband wasn’t too pleased with Regulus having preferences — the pretentious prick could choke on his food and die for all you cared, “how about we go to the kitchen together?” you offer smoothly as you begin to stand, “that way, you can watch me cook and make sure I do them just the way you like it,” smiling brightly, Regulus nods and easily offers his hand for you to hold, “Siri, would you like to come?” if one brother was coming with you so was the other.  

“Yes please!” Sirius happily walks to the kitchen, hand-in-hand with Regulus, whose other hand is fully wrapped up in your own. 

From the head of the table, Orion stares with his mouth agape at what he had just been a witness to. What was happening to his wife?! 

11th August 1971 

Sirius and Regulus stand by the fireplace, waving off their newly appointed private tutor as they floo away before eagerly making their way to your home office. Usually, their session catch-ups would make the two freeze up and drag their feet along the plush carpets of their family’s proud home but not now. Ever since your irregular activities leading up to your fainting spell and subsequent switch in demeanour, they’ve felt safer and happier at home. But only around you, their father still frightened them. The patriarch’s grey eyes swirled with a mounting turbulence that they would greatly prefer to avoid so they quickly make themselves scarce around him but not around their mother. Not anymore.

“I can’t wait to show Mother my cursive practice,” Regulus has a skip in his step as he walks beside his older brother, who beams at him proudly. 

“Yeah, you’re getting really good at that Reggie,” Sirius praises, a slightly envious tone edging into his words, but it all remained playful, “say, how do you do your swirls so good?”

“Practise!” 

Sirius rolls his eyes at his younger brother’s cheek, “There has to be a secret to it that I don’t know about,” Regulus only giggles at his older brother’s shortcomings. This had been a rare happiness to experience at 12 Grimmauld Place but, gradually, it was becoming common between the two brothers. Suddenly the walls weren’t so drab, the furniture not as boring and the decorations not as hauntingly placed. The atmosphere was much brighter as sunlight always seemed to pour magnanimously in from the windows.

“Sorry Siri,” from Regulus’ free-flowing, tuneful words, he isn’t sorry at all but Sirius can never will up any hatred for his younger brother. They’ve been through it all together and now that their recent joys were also being shared, of course, they would partake in harmless teasing — teasing that was usually frowned upon by their mother but was no longer a worry. They can’t remember the last time their mother frowned — the two greatly prefer this new version of their mother’s expressions much more.

As they approach your office door, the brothers’ footfalls quicken and they barely catch themselves from bursting through the door without knocking. But not before they catch sight of your figure through the crack of the doorway. Curious about your activity, Sirius hushes his younger brother softly and holds him back so that he can lean forward to observe your figure closely. Inspired by his older brother’s nosiness, Regulus leans forward also and the two peer at you through the doorway crack. 

You’re not at your desk but are, instead, seated on the plush, cushioned seats of the emerald sofa placed in front of your desk. Black robes and other familiar attire are piled up beside you on one side while the other gradually assembles the neatly folded aftermath of your sewing…embroidery? Was there even a difference? Nevertheless, you had a needle and thread in hand without your wand or the use of magic in sight!

“Mother’s sewing your name tags herself,” Regulus concludes in a whisper following a muted gasp of surprise. 

Sirius’ eyes widen ever so slightly, “and she’s not using magic…” he doesn’t know how skilled you are at sewing but Sirius doesn’t care, the gesture alone is enough to make his chest swell. Even his face began to warm up from the heat climbing up his neck as it tried reaching his ears. 

“…do you think she’ll sew my name tags too? When I start my first year, I mean…” Regulus asks shyly, the clear insecurity in his timid voice making Sirius slightly defensive. 

“Of course, she will,” he huffs before grinning widely, “and if we tear up our uniform ‘accidentally’ I’m sure she’ll sew those up herself too!” Regulus doesn’t know whether he likes or dislikes his brother’s train of thought but smiles anyway; he’s just happy thinking about his mother paying as much attention and care to his first-year robes too. He can’t wait until he starts attending Hogwarts as well. 

Finally willing themselves to stop eavesdropping and return to their earlier task, Sirius and Regulus straighten their posture before knocking on the heavy wooden door. They don’t have to wait terribly long for an answering call to grant their entrance. 

“Come in,” you set your tools aside and smile when the door reveals your babies stepping into your office, “hello, my darlings,” from your periphery, you spot the time on the clock face and jump into conversation with them, “how was your tutoring session? Did you like your new tutor?” 

“Yeah!” the two answer simultaneously and with the same amount of enthusiasm — it makes you smile with content. Happiness looks good on them; their characters shine brighter and their faces are more child-like. They’re honestly the cutest little boys you’ve ever seen and now they’re your sons to love and protect.  

“That’s wonderful news,” you open your arms for each of them to jump into, “Tell me all about it,” you’re just about to magic away the robes and sewing equipment so that they can sit beside you but not before you spot Sirius inspecting your handiwork, “I’m afraid I’m not the best seamstress,” your confession comes out bashfully, “I should have had Madam Malkins sew the tags on for me—”

“No!—” Sirius interrupts, looking almost offended that you would consider such a thing, “I like your sewing,” you raise a brow and, together with Regulus, inspect your uneven, treasure map trail of stitches before turning to the eldest brother once more. 

“Are you sure, darling?”

“Yeah, only you can do the stitching on my uniform, no one else,” his firm answer makes your embarrassed expression melt into a warm smile.

“Alright then,”

“Thank you, Mother,” he gives you another hug that you happily return. 

“You’re welcome, my dear,”

Looking over your plans, you sigh in restrained frustration. This is going to be a little hard. Yes, you know what to do but it’s all about recruiting the right people, trustworthy people and ones who are right for the role you’re choosing to give them. There’s a lot on your plate too, with your most urgent goal being divorce. You’re convinced that it isn’t going to be easy, considering the controversies that will surround the separation of a prominent wizarding house. The laws surrounding marriage, divorce and custody at this time are also largely unknown to you. Thankfully, you’ve had the privilege of living in a modern ‘muggle’ society where marriage and custody laws were pretty equal and fair. Perhaps there’s a book you can read up on about these things. For now, it’s a safe bet to say that custody will favour Orion as a man in the 1970s — it’s better to over-prepare than be underprepared for any outcome. 

Despite the importance of this particular undertaking, you’ll have to wait until both, Sirius and Regulus, are attending Hogwarts to commence the divorce proceedings. You don’t want your boys to be front-row witnesses nor do you want them to rollercoaster through the typical, rough emotions of children caught up in their parents’ divorce. You’ve been through that already… and you barely made it out on the other side. You’re an adult and they’re just children; if you can protect them from the brunt of it, you will.

A stray thought pushes forward into your consciousness — it would be too optimistic to confidently wager on the boys siding with you. Although under abusive parenting, children are very loyal and you’re benefiting from that loyalty now; even though Walburga was incredibly cruel to her sons, they were still eager to give you a chance as soon as you took over and began treating them kindly. You need to be cautious. The silver lining of it all is that you’ll, at least, have some time to prepare affluently before starting the separation process. That, on its own, however, will require another bout of planning.  

Saving Regulus is another priority on your list. That requires getting rid of the Horcruxes and killing off snake-faced Voldy but you don’t want to be too hands-on with that, especially because you’re not very adept at casting spells yet — there’ll be more experienced and more willing people (Aurors) who would be able to handle this type of mission. All you have to do is pull the right strings and connect with the right people. Eyeing another task on your list, you spot a small connection and smirk to yourself. The nib of your quill dips into a pot of ink and bridges two of your obligations. 

“This could be quite beneficial on both ends,” if you play your cards right…

Making some more careful notes, you gradually begin to piece everything together. But then there’s the issue of Sirius being sent to Azkaban. It’s healthy to have faith in yourself but if someone’s life and wellbeing are in danger, especially if it’s your son’s, you need to have a second, third and fourth plan at the ready. There needs to be a second, third and fourth plan for Regulus as well. Luck and misfortune will always have some influence on the dice you roll, there will never be an exception to that. You’ve learned this enough times in your previous life already, not just in business but everything else too. 

Your quill stops and rests beside your plans as the cogs in your brain turn with more purpose. Sirius still needs to become an animagus and Regulus needs to learn how to be a strong enough swimmer so that he can cast a spell to repel the Inferi. It would be beneficial if they both become well-equipped in duelling. That’ll require your lack of interference (maybe even your support) until Sirius’ fifth year, getting Regulus sorted with swimming lessons and encouraging both on their Defence Against the Dark Arts skills. You make a quick note of both solutions and their reasoning before linking both back to your list of obligations. 

The progress you’re making with these intervention plans is making headway. You just hope that you won’t tip the scales too far so that what little control you currently have slips right through your fingers and you’ll be left floundering. 

20th August 1971

You’ve fully taken over the cooking for all meals and your boys are looking much healthier. It warms your heart every time you see them happily eating your cooking, it was hard work keeping up with the pantry inventory, planning meals and catering to their individual tastes but it was good work that filled your heart with so much content, you hardly felt the fatigue creeping into your bones. 

Regulus isn’t a picky eater, he simply has a preference for some foods over others. He doesn’t like his eggs scrambled, only fried and with a runny yolk; he can’t stomach oysters or shellfish; he doesn’t like pulp in his juice and he’d rather eat a raw onion than have any trace of offal trimmings in his food. 

Sirius can practically eat anything and does so healthily, however, he’s more of a savoury person, leaving Regulus to own the sweet tooth palette by himself. Both adore cheese and you often create mini charcuterie boards for them to snack on. It was so adorable. There was plenty of time on your schedule to assign towards aesthetic food presentation so you’ve mastered the creation of salami roses. You’ve also found that Sirius prefers caramelised onion chutney to go with his mature cheeses whilst Regulus goes for a sweeter fig chutney. 

Currently, you were making them their own mini charcuterie boards. Both were displayed on a circular board with their favourite chutney at the very centre, held in a small ceramic container. And, with decorative prowess, you place their selection of meats, cheeses, crackers and grapes around it. 

“Do they look good Kreacher?” the house elf peers over the countertop surface and gives an affirming nod with a barely noticeable smile. 

“The young masters will be very happy, Mistress,” helpfully he suggests bringing the carefully prepared boards and crust-less finger sandwiches up to the boys’ study room for you but you shake your head. 

“Thank you, Kreacher, but I think I’ll bring up the food this time,” you’ve met their new private tutor several times already but she was always so tense around you; you’re determined to improve her impression through some good old exposure therapy. “Please prepare some tea and bring it up as soon as you’re done,” with your wand and a softly uttered ‘locomotor charcuterie boards and sandwiches’, the items lift into the air just slightly and you begin to move them out of the kitchen. 

“What tea should Kreacher be brewin’ this noon, Mistress?” 

“Oolong would be lovely today. Be sure to brew some Earl grey for Orion too but deliver the Oolong to us first please,” Kreacher’s struggles with your utterance of the polite ‘please’ persists but he continues with his set tasks regardless. The hunched-over house elf has noticed you’ve been prioritising the young masters much more than Orion recently; whenever you want to do something thoughtful, you always think of your sons first. Only last minute do you finally remember your workaholic husband and leave the snack preparations for Kreacher to fulfil and deliver alone. It’s a peculiar shift in attention, the wrinkled elf admits, but seeing his young master Regulus so happy, he doesn’t complain. Kreacher also admits that he’s growing a slight, mutual fondness for the elder Black brother, the two share in their love for Regulus and loyalty to you; now they’ve become friendly acquaintances. The house elf is a little happier and much more willing than ever before to stay loyal to his mistress and young masters’ sides. And Master Orion too, of course.   

Making your way up the stairs, the pretentious cow stuck in your head makes her presence known with inconsequential complaints.

“You’re spoiling those boys far too much!” Walburga shrieks and immediately makes your temples pound, “Sirius and Regulus don’t need this much attention, if you continue this they’re going to grow up soft and weak and unable to carry on the Black family name with the proper dignity and class!” For the sake of avoiding the horrid healing potion Kreacher’s having you consume after every fainting spell, you’ve been training yourself to build up as much resistance to her incessantly obnoxious yapping as much as possible — you’re getting there but you still need some practise. Currently, you are traversing the stairs so you’re taking every step with extra caution.

“Bitches should be seen and not heard,” her confounded gasp doesn’t escape you, “so kindly shut the fuck up,” the sarcastic cheerfulness in your tone makes her gasp once more and, like a coward, makes herself scarce. It seems as though you’ve gotten better at shutting the shrew up but she has yet to acclimatise herself to your shameless disrespect towards her.  Hopefully, she never gets used to your comments; it’s always such a pleasure being able to render her utterly speechless. 

With a pleased smile, you give a soft knock on the boys’ study room before entering. The boys gasp happily as soon as they see the levitating charcuterie boards and the plateful of crust-less sandwiches float closer and closer. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt but I think you all deserve a lunch break,” the boys cheer and happily dig in while you face their tutor with a small smile, “please feel free to have as many sandwiches as you want, we have plenty on offer,” her smile is hesitant and slightly trembles under your hold so she’s quick to look away and fix her focus onto the plate of sandwiches — her own, personal reprieve from having to interact with you.

Peony Knight. She’s an incredibly timid individual who seems to be in her element only when teaching children rather than in the company of said children’s adult parents — she has yet to look you in the eye for an extended period. Her head is an organised plight of feathery, strawberry-blonde hair and her eyes are a pair of opal pendants, so brilliantly blue but incandescent with a kaleidoscope of other jewel colours. Her resume was astounding but her family wasn’t very notable so you could only imagine her surprise when she received your response to her application with a test run of her skills. It was important to you that she comes from an uncommon house and family, you didn’t want to draw too much attention over switching tutors. At her tutoring trial run, she started very shaky but eventually found her confidence when focusing on your two boys rather than your lurking figure from the corner of the study. She was a good runner-up and quickly became the perfect choice when your boys showed favour towards her – the other candidates appeared to have been more affected by your presence in the room and taught the way they thought you wanted them to. 

“She’s nice and patient,” Regulus commented when you went to him after her trial lesson. 

“I like the way she explains things,” Sirius added beside him. 

That was all you needed to hire her as their private tutor. Peony’s timidity of you as an authority figure played in her favour very well.  

Hidden within a thick pile of stacked parchments and a small mountain of miscellaneous scrolls, you found Walburga’s carefully curated curriculum for the boys and handed it over to Peony. Walburga would know better than you what would be useful for her sons to learn. However, you were surprised at the amount of ‘muggle’ topics on her curated list. Admittedly, you were only expecting foundational wizarding lessons maybe on wands or classic pureblood etiquette so your shock was justified. Walburga’s reaction, however, wasn’t.  

“I teach them proper pureblood etiquette myself, you useless girl! And how can I expect my sons to grow up well if they aren’t taught the basics?! They’ll be able to advance as better wizards of the Black family that way. Moreover, muggles stick to and remain in the basics so don’t get smug with me, you filthy mud-blood!” Walburga screeched without restraint and with much offence after your initial revelation, leading to another fainting spell — the disgusting bitch…

In addition to Peony’s private tutoring, you’ve taken to providing your own private lessons to the boys, much to their surprise and slight hesitancy. However, as soon as you began the extended lessons after their usual morning session with Peony one day, they’ve since grown to love it. This didn’t happen every time, however, only on Tuesdays and Fridays. Today was one of those days, a Friday, and you’re so excited to see their reactions to what you have planned. 

Their schedules typically consist of Peony coming over a couple of hours before noon and she teaches them for two or three hours sessions every day except weekends. Mondays were for English language and literature (wizard and muggle), Tuesdays were for Economics, Numeracy and Financial literacy, Wednesdays were for French and Cursive handwriting practice, Thursdays were for muggle sciences (basic biology, physics and chemistry) and Fridays were for history and philosophy (wizard and muggle).

You reserve the fun lessons for your boys with yourself as their teacher. These were composed of lessons that typically challenged their problem-solving, creativity and other fundamental skills to set them up with a good foundation for school and life in general. This included fun puzzle-solving, art (in every medium the boys wanted), some written/scenario problem-solving and role-play scenarios. The first Friday you did this, you had the boys act out from rough, child-friendly scripts you drafted inspired by the Shakespearian play, Macbeth. It seemed like an innocuous lesson but you wanted to gauge their ethical understandings and reasonings. 

Throughout the scenes, you would spontaneously make them freeze frame to ask prompting questions that typically go along the lines of, ‘what would you do in this situation?’, ‘do think that was the right thing to do?’, and ‘why did you think your character did this even though they knew it was wrong?’. Both engaged very well with their own perspectives on the situation. 

At one point they got into a small argument that you needed to break up due to slightly differing standpoints on the scenario. It became slightly more heated than you expected but you were thankful for the opportunity to teach them how to communicate well with each other despite their differences. The lesson ended after that because tensions were still high and they were equally very stubborn about who should apologise first. 

It was going to take more than one lesson to be able to make them understand the rules and the importance of healthy communication, but that was to be expected. This was just the beginning so you’re hoping that if you stay consistent with fostering their ethical reasoning, communication and problem-solving skills, they will be able to remain brotherly despite their opposing Hogwarts houses. In the end, you made them apologise at the same time (to the count of three) and had them hug it out before telling them to say one thing they like about the other person. Evidently, they weren’t used to your new way of doing things and making amends but they (grumpily) did as they were told — and looked absolutely adorable doing it, their pouty faces were too much to bear! 

Approaching the two boys indulging in their individual charcuterie boards and occasionally exchanging bites of their share, you kneel between them and begin pleasant conversations about their current lesson. 

“Are you two having fun so far?” you could practically see Peony stiffen up like cement behind you, just from the telling gasp she lets out in the background. Being so high-strung isn’t going to be good for her health so you hope she gets used to your presence soon enough. You do feel slightly apologetic for her but she needs to know that people can change no matter how drastically. Hopefully, she takes this opportunity to grow some confidence in herself too. Someone so intelligent should walk with broader shoulders and a higher chin. 

“Yeah! Did you know Pythagoras had a cult?” Sirius was practically bouncing in his chair.

“No, he had a school of very intelligent mathematicians and musicians,” Regulus countered after swallowing his bite of cracker, cheese and grapes. 

Sirius rolls his eyes but immediately jumps into another topic, “he discovered the theory of pitch which is surprising coming from a guy who’s scared of beans,” he cracks himself up laughing at the statement.

Again, Regulus interjects in defence of the philosopher, “he wasn’t scared of beans,” the two brothers exchange narrowed stares, “He just believed that beans were the vessels for dead people’s souls and didn’t want to disrespect them by running through a bean field,” a small argument ensues but you don’t act, instead, you watch as a bystander in the hopes that your presence alone can keep them in check. If you ever feel the need to jump in at some point, you will. 

All too well, Sirius and Regulus remain aware of your lingering attendance to their quarrel and make the silent agreement to not escalate things too far. For a moment, they share a knowing look after briefly glancing your way and glaring at each other once again. You watch them huff and inhale a slow, shaky breath. They actively turn their voices down whilst continuing with their argument. It didn’t seem to go anywhere but both concluded it with less heat and more of a calm acknowledgement of each other’s differing sides. 

“Two people can have different opinions and still be friends. They only need to respect that the other person holds a different view and that it doesn’t make them a bad person,” they remembered your sage advice from their first extracurricular lesson with you. It was a massive shift in perspective to their growing minds and the impact it had on both of them was enough to permanently imprint the message into their heads.  

Unprompted, you lean forward and press a kiss to each of their foreheads, Sirius first and then Regulus, “I’m so proud of you two,” you watch as their cherubic cheeks flush an adorable, pink hue. Sirius scratches the back of his head bashfully whilst Regulus fiddles with his pen, both of them equally biting back a small smile from the praise, “you remembered what I taught you,” they look upon your elated smile with shy fulfilment as they nod slightly. “Another person’s opposing opinions might be something we don’t share or appreciate as much as they do but…” they lean forward ever so slightly, wanting to consciously heed your elaboration on the topic, “hearing or witnessing a different view will expand our perspective on the world and help us grow as people. We need to keep an open mind for these sorts of things because they can teach us so much. It might be hard to do sometimes, but I want to ask you two for a small favour,” they nod silently, not questioning or hesitating at your words, fully trusting in your sensible knowledge — their mother was always a brick wall when it came to the opinions of others, they couldn’t penetrate her, especially when it came to opposite views on blood purity so, to see her encouraging such undogmatic behaviour, is peculiar but in a strangely motivating way. They find that they want to do whatever it is that you want to ask them to do no matter what, “I want the two of you to try to understand the other side of any argument or opposite view. The world isn’t as black and white as we think it is. We have to try to be understanding and empathetic people. There may be reasons someone sees the world a certain way and even if we don’t agree or like their opinion, the least we can do is try to understand them. Just try. That’s all… that’s enough,”

It was a lot to take in and it was a lot to ask of such young minds that were still developing. But you weren’t asking for them to be perfect at it. All you want them to do is try.

“Alright, Mother,” Sirius nods with solid determination in his eyes. 

“Whatever you wish, Mother,” Regulus says at the same time, also glowing with resolve. 

Smiling happily, you bring them into a group hug, your arms easily curling around their small shoulders as you press another kiss to their temples, “you don’t have to be perfect, just try,“ you reiterate in a whisper, “I’m so proud of you, my darlings, you make mommy so happy,” you don’t see it but you feel their bright smiles press into your neck from either side as they return your embrace and nuzzle their faces into the junction of your neck and shoulders.

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Their lesson ended a few minutes ago and, like routine, they wave off Peony at the living room fireplace while you set up the study with all the things you planned on having them do for the afternoon. You asked them if they wanted to take a break before your lesson but they said they were happy to begin right away. They were able to detect the sparkle of excitement in your eyes as you left after their lunch break and were now filled with the same eagerness to begin your lesson.

Setting up their table with tools, aprons and a protective mat warmed your heart. You had planned so many things to do with your future children in your original life, read so many books and attended so many talks, lectures and groups on how to be a good mother that your heart was finally able to heal the scars that resulted from the infertility diagnosis you were slammed with years ago. You felt like a failure, not only as a mother but as a woman to be told that. It wasn’t until you were able to recover from that debilitating news that you finally began to consider adoption. It took years and years and the building of a corporate empire to finally get to that point but then, you were doomed once more. At the centre of a collision in the busy city streets, you lost consciously accepting your fate only to end up here…it was all quite a blessing really. Now you have two beautiful sons to call your own and to love with all of your heart. As an added bonus, they’re also two of your favourite characters from the Harry Potter universe. 

You could barely contain your excitement when you heard a small knock at the door to the study. They were here. 

“Come in, darlings,”

Stepping into the room, Sirius and Regulus gasp in awe and begin jumping on the spot ever so slightly from feverish anticipation. In your outstretched hands were two small, grey aprons, one displaying Sirius’ name and the other Regulus’ along the upper seam of the apron’s breast pocket. Without being asked, they step up to their aprons and reach forward to put the article on themselves. As they do so,  you announce what you will be doing for the afternoon. 

“Clay sculptures?” Sirius almost squeals in excitement as Regulus bounces on the balls of his feet. 

“We’ve never done that before,” Regulus chimes as you kneel behind him to help with tying up his apron, eventually moving on to redo Sirius’ clumsy knot as well.

“It’ll be fun,” you giggle, “fun and messy,” Sirius appreciates the hint of mischief in your voice and rushes to take a seat at the table with Regulus toddling along close behind him. You take a seat too and begin to talk them through the little sculpting tools they have beside them, the small mountain of clay at their disposal and the use for the bowls of water within reach. 

Regulus is listening but he can’t help glimpsing down at his stitched-on name tag every few seconds or so. His chest feels warm and so so tight that he feels like he’s about to burst. You had hand-stitched his name tag onto the apron yourself. He recognised the inexperienced, inconsistent stitches but he thinks it’s the most beautiful display of embroidery he has ever seen. There’s also the revelation that Regulus didn’t need to wait to go to Hogwarts to know that you would be attentive enough to do the same thing for his clothes as you did to Sirius’. He feels special and he loves the affectionate attention you were giving him, all the motherly love he and his older brother had always dreamed of experiencing was finally happening, not only through kind words but in warm hugs, soft kisses and silent acts of service too. He feels a surge of wanting to do well in everything, from studying to writing to eating to sleeping — all of it! He’ll do well in all of it. He only wants to make you proud. 

“Let’s begin with rolling out a piece of our clay,” you start, encouraging them to get messy, keep their clay hydrated and not worry about the state of their tools because you’ll all be washing them at the end together. After that, you had them make little balls using their hands and then roll out one ball into a flat sheet using their small rolling pins. With another ball, you instructed them to attempt making it flat using their hands instead, which helped you explain that moving around the clay with their hands makes the clay easier to mould.  

“Have you two been learning about muggle sciences?” you gently ask as the two go about flattening their spheres a little more so that they can carve patterns into them using their small wooden tools. 

“Yeah, I like the one called physics,” Sirius grins, eyes still focused on his clay.

“Me too!” Regulus chimes and the two brothers grin at each other, which makes you smile. 

“That’s very good,” you nod, spotting an opportunity, “so where do you think the heat comes from when we roll out our clay?” 

“From our hands,” Sirius immediately answers. 

“That’s right, anything else?”

The question is open for the two of them but Regulus is the one who answers next, “From all the moving around,”

“Brilliant, my darlings,” you praise and they grin pridefully. 

“Now, can you name the types of energies those are called? If you’ve learned about them, that is,” The brothers look at each other before beginning to ponder separately. The silence draws on so you decide to give them a little help, “What are all the energies called?” They do just fine with regurgitating the ten different energy types and that seems to be enough to prompt Regulus. 

“The moving around is kinetic energy,”

Sirius jumps to answer as well, “and our hands transfer the thermal energy,”

“Good good!” you give them a small round of applause, which they bashfully smile at, “you two are so clever!… What did I hear about this ‘transferring’ of energy, Siri?” your question comes out in a nonchalant tone. 

“Peony says that energy is stored and transferred,” Sirius answers, “and that they sometimes turn into another type of energy,”

“I see,” you look down at your own clay spheres and sheets, “where is the thermal energy from my hands coming from?” once again, they’re silent, “I think this can link to biology, specifically our biology,” that gets the cogs in their brains turning again and you can’t help but coo at their adorable thinking faces. 

“It’s from…” Regulus begins, immediately catching both yours and Sirius’ undivided attention, your eyes equally encouraging him to continue with his answer, “It’s from the energy in our food,”

Eyes sparkling with delight, you prompt him once more, “And what energy is that called?”

“…Chemical!”

“Good job!” Sirius claps for his brother’s success and reaches up for a high five that Regulus happily hits and once again, they’re grinning at each other. 

“What about for the movement?” This was a trick question but your boys are clever so you have full faith in them. Regulus already answered his share so he silently backs out from the arena by looking up at Sirius who begins to ruminate. “…well the movement has to come from somewhere, doesn’t it?” you thoughtfully point out, beginning to play around with your clay and trying to look innocent about it despite it being a definite clue. 

“It comes from us!” Sirius explains and looks down to play around with his clay too. You stay silent as you let him think and reach the conclusion on his own but you’re already so so proud of their intelligent displays, “…so it’s the same answer, it’s also from chemical energy…” he seems unsure from his tone but the minute he looks up to meet your eyes, the smile on your lips and the applause from you and Regulus has him beaming. 

“My sons are so so clever! I’m very proud of you both!”

That was enough of that — you only remember so much from your younger science education — so you move on to teach them about hatching and being able to stick two pieces of clay together with a little bit of water in order to make a small box with no lid. Thankfully, that was the final thing you intended to teach them before letting them make their own creations. 

“Now, you can make whatever you want with your clay. After this, I’ll bake them so they become solid, and then, we can paint them together. If you run out of clay, just ask and I’ll get you some more,” the two buzzed in their seats from the excitement and you were just as eager to let them loose with their creativity. “You can also make more than one thing but limit yourself to just two or three, please. Also make sure that whatever you make suits a function, it can be anything at all; you can even get some ideas from this muggle book on clay crafting,” you present them with the children’s clay craft book and place it where they can easily reach, “don’t mind getting the edges dirty, as long as the main text and pictures aren’t too muddied up by clay, it’s fine. It’s supposed to get used earnestly anyway,” they smile at your proactive reassurance but only Regulus goes for the clay book while Sirius goes about making his desired creation right away. 

For a while, Sirius cannot decide what to actually make. His speediness into action makes his younger brother peer over at him anxiously quite a few times but his initial unease gradually fades when he realises his older brother keeps changing his mind, flattening a scarcely sculpted creation just as quickly as he begins a new one. You don’t want to interrupt their independent creative flows and get to work on something you’ve already planned to create, a modest gift for your darling boys. 

Some time goes by in silence before you call for Kreacher to play one of the vinyls you managed to buy from a record shop when out on errands to muggle London. You had bought several along with the gramophone at the shop. When you first bought it home, the boys were eager to find out what it was and spent a lot of time happily winding it up so that you could all listen to the records together. It would have been preferable to get the electrical one but it would have been useless in the predominantly magic-operated house.  

“Great choice, Kreacher,” you smile at the house elf who nods timidly by the gramophone and promptly disappears when he feels as though he is no longer needed. The Beatles’ Abbey Road album plays in the background as the soundtrack to your clay sculpting session for several songs-worth of minutes before you finally get up to independently ask the boys about what they had chosen to make. ‘Oh! Darling’ sings in the distant corner as you kneel beside Sirius and quietly ask about his creation and what its function would be. In a whisper, he replies without turning to look at you, far too focused on his creation to divert any significant attention from it.  

“I’m making plant pots,” he begins, his pink tongue slightly poking out of the corner of his mouth, “for the cooking herbs you said you wanted to grow in the kitchen, but I’m also making one for Reggie since he says he wants to grow a plant in his room,” after his nonchalant explanation, your heart soars. It would be a fair assessment to say that Regulus has spoken to him about exploring gardening. You didn’t know your youngest wanted to grow a green thumb but it was a pleasant surprise — you’ll see about taking him to a muggle plant shop soon, you don’t quite trust wizarding plants in the household. A succulent or mini cactus would be a good choice. 

Pressing a kiss onto Sirius’ cheek, you whisper a soft thank you and praise his thoughtfulness before moving on to Regulus. For a moment, the elder brother wishes he could grow out his hair so that you are less likely to notice his flushed cheeks and red-tipped ears. You also kneel by Regulus’ side to whisper the same questions about his creation. 

“I’m making a little jewellery dish for your rings and necklaces and earrings, Mother. And I’m also going to make one for Siri since he’ll be getting the family ring when he’s older. Sirius’ one is going to be star-shaped because he’s named after the brightest star and yours is going to be heart-shaped because…well…” Regulus can’t finish his sentence as his blush floods his entire face with heat. But he doesn’t need to finish his explanation, he’s said all you needed to hear to coo over his thoughtfulness and press a kiss to his cheek also. They’re such sweet boys. That bitch Walburga was blessed to have them and yet she mistreated them so much, they didn’t deserve any of that. Tender love and care is what they truly deserve and that will be your sole mission and life’s purpose for this existence. 

“What are you making, Mother?” Regulus asks unprompted when you finally sit back down by your humble creations again. The youngest’s question makes Sirius perk up and eye you with interest, his grey eyes flicking between you and the carefully shaped clay by your hands. 

“I’m making little star-shaped pendants for my little star boys,” smiling at their flustered expressions, you elaborate further, “I’m going to poke a hole near the top point so I can thread it through a chain and you can wear it as a necklace or a bracelet — you can choose,” you show them one with a carved ’S’ on it, “this one is for Siri,” next you present the one with an ‘R’ on it, “and this one is for Reggie,” they beam in happiness at the getting such a personalised gift from you and continue their clay projects with new-found vigour. 

It was relatively easy to create the small star pendants so, inspired by Regulus’ creations, you proceeded to craft minimalist ring bands, one each of you. Sirius’ you carved the same sort of archaic patterns as that of his wand, for Regulus, you did simple lines with an occasional dot and for yours, evenly placed mini daisies. At first, it was purely for making sure that Regulus didn’t feel left out from Sirius getting the family ring but, looking at your modest creations, your magnate mind begins to manifest an innovative idea you’re itching to begin. Your schedule is going to fill up very quickly and soon — there isn’t a chance that you’ll wait on this. 

1st September 1971

Today couldn’t have crept up on you quickly enough. One minute you were settling into a cosy routine with your darling sons and now you were sending the eldest away for wizarding boarding school. It was happening too fast and your heart was constantly breaking from being torn between freely letting him go and childishly begging him to stay so that you could spend as much time with him as possible. Even the novelty of rushing onto platform 9¾ through the brick wall between platforms 9 and 10 couldn’t keep the tears from filling your eyes. However, your unhappiness and woe were quickly wiped away when Sirius expressed muted sadness at the idea that his father was too busy to see him off to Hogwarts. That morning, try as you might you couldn’t convince Orion to be there for his son. The git was lucky Sirius had interrupted your argument to express his acceptance and neutrality over the situation or else you would have clocked the pretentious asshole’s jaw. You would be surprised if the hypothetical punch landed hard enough to dislocate both of his temporomandibular joints. He would be eating through a tube if it weren’t for your little boy’s interruption but you’ll be sure to sink your teeth into your git of a husband as soon as you get home. 

Regulus seems to be whispering something to his older brother as they share a hug of goodbye. There was plenty of time for Sirius to get onto the train - you made sure of that - and you promised to wave him off as the train left the station so none of you were in any rush to leave the other. You kindly smile down at their wholesome interaction, completely drawn in by their innocence and heartfelt brotherly love for each other. Their relationship was worth preserving and building up. You were once saddened by Sirius and Regulus’ torn apart brotherhood but now, you’ll be devastated if your sons ever broke their bond like in the movies and books. So distracted by your loveable sons’ endearing display, you miss the shocked looks you were receiving from fellow parents of other children who were also boarding to attend Hogwarts — they simply couldn’t believe it! 

Everyone knew the matriarch of the Black family. However, the very picture of her now was not what was to be expected. Rumours of her cold and unsympathetic disposition appeared as slanderous lies when they took in your warm smile and fond stare, looking solely upon your two sons. It was well-known amongst the wizarding community that the famous Black family’s eldest son, Sirius Black, would begin attending Hogwarts this year. They expected to see a conceited and substantially reserved display of the family by the platform but not… not this! This is something for the papers! Had the matriarch of the most ancient and noble house of Black always looked this beautiful and kind? Surely not!… But their eyes weren’t being deceived, they were seeing the truth! Many gasped and openly stared, thankfully hushed down by the nosiness of the platform, whilst others didn’t know how to interpret the display and opted to avert their eyes.

Around his small wrist, Sirius keeps your clay star pendant around his wrist, which had been painted a deep black per his request while the ’S’ is marked with metallic silver paint. He has such good taste for aesthetics despite his young age. Every day there was something new to be proud of him for, no matter how little. You love being a mother!

“Oh darling, I’m going to miss you so so much. You must promise me that you’ll take care of yourself, don’t be scared about making friends,” you look him in the eye as you say so, combing your fingers through his hair and pushing away the curling locks from his forehead, “they’re going to love you just as much as I do,”

“Me too, Siri,” Regulus’ soft interjection brings out a mutual laugh from you and the eldest Black brother. Sirius brings Regulus into another hug that you are also brought into.

“And if they don’t like you then they can suffer having none of those mini pies I baked for you,” the two of you share a smirk and a wink. Sirius had requested some shelf-stable foods to bring such as his favourite chutney, jams and jerky, all homemade by you, especially for him. Of course, you didn’t say no. You even suggested bringing along something yummy for the train ride despite already providing him an allowance to spend on the trolley. 

“Regulus and I will write to you as often as we can so be on the lookout for our letters, okay?” he nods, eyes already sparkling from the anticipation and thought of receiving mail by owl solely for him. A letter addressed only to him, with his name on the envelope, and meant only for him to read — his feverish anticipation was to be expected. He couldn’t wait for his first letter. 

“I’ll write back just as much, promise!” 

“Good because if you don’t,” you scold playfully as Sirius bites back a cheeky giggle, “I’ll go to Hogwarts and demand a written letter back myself, I’ll bring Reggie with me too so that’s twice the heat you’ll be under young man, don’t forget,”

“Never,” Sirius whispers as he throws himself into your embrace once more. There’s never going to be enough hugging to satiate your aching heart, nor squash the sadness of watching your baby grow up too fast but, knowing the mischief and fun he’ll be getting up to, makes you almost giddy with excitement. You want to read all about it in his letters home! 

As much as you’d like to have said your farewells for longer, Sirius still needed to board and needed help with his luggage. Thankfully there were plenty of staff to help him lug it all around, which you smiled gratefully for. They seemed stunned by your courtesy but tipped their caps in acknowledgement and whispered a quick ‘thanks’ in return, regardless. 

Stepping back from the platform with Regulus at your side, the two of you try to follow Sirius along the train compartments as closely as you can until you finally see him settling into a box by himself. You wonder if he’ll be meeting his fellow marauders soon — god! You wish you could see them as adorable 11-year-old babies like your Sirius right now. 

Regulus toddles up to be closer to the window, opposed to the thought of separating from his brother and tries to hold one last conversation with Sirius as everyone waits for the train to depart. To hear him clearer, Sirius reaches up to open the window. Smiling at the pair fondly, you almost miss a heart-stopping sight. From your left peripheral, you spot an untameable mess of dark hair and round hazel eyes sparkling in jubilation, framed with an adorable pair of round glasses — you barely withhold your gasp of surprise. But all too soon, from your right, you glimpse a head of neatly trimmed but slightly grown-out brown hair, belonging to a rather spindly boy swamped under a cosy autumn-brown jumper. On his softly curving jaw is a light, nicking scar and when he turns his head ever so slightly, you see another more prominent scar marked across the pudge of his cheek. You’ve seen a wild, baby-ish James Potter and Remus Lupin. Almost all of the marauders were spotted getting onto the Hogwarts Express but do you even want to see the final member? No! Of course not! It was then that you noticed sandy-blonde hair weaving through the crowds of parents wishing their children farewell – a last-minute attempt at getting onto the train on time. Behind him, he is followed by a similarly blonde woman, his mother. Goodness, both share such startling similarities, both have curved edges to their silhouette, pink cheeks and sea-blue eyes. They looked like an adorable pair and you had to admit that Peter’s portly appearance made him incredibly endearing for his age. They looked like an ordinary, harmless mother-son pair, much like you and your boys…

A whistle pierces through the station and snaps you out of your daze. Finally turning back to your Sirius, your eyes tear up again for the umpteenth time that day. Regulus had rushed back to your side, clinging onto the long, black skirt of your dress with one hand as he used the other to wave goodbye. Silently, you mouth an ‘I love you’. He isn’t as surprised as when you whispered the same affection to him whilst still on the platform so he was able to mouth it back — ‘I love you too, Mother,’ — your heart pinches. Picking Regulus up, you sit him on the curve of your hip and wave Sirius off together. You see the slight shimmer of tears in Sirius’ eyes too just before the train moves too far and takes Sirius away with it. 

You miss him already.

SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 05 : SIRIUS : FIRST DAY →

A/N : surprise! goodness, this was a really big chapter hehe~ i hope you darlings enjoyed the read! i also would like to gently remind everyone that i am no longer doing taglists but to be notified whenever i post something, please follow and turn on notifications for reblog side account: @thekqipond where i will be reblogging every new fic as soon as i post it! the reason i was able to post this chapter a month ahead of my official come-back in October was to test my taglist solution and the order of chapters i want to post by Christmas ;) i hope you enjoy!

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites

[footballfanficwriter]

1st to many

Summary:where Jude wins his first Champions league trophy

The atmosphere in the stadium was electric. The roar of the crowd was almost deafening, but all I could focus on was the man in the white home kit moving effortlessly across the pitch. Jude. My husband. The love of my life. Our son, Louis, was bouncing excitedly beside me, his little hands clutching the edges of his seat as he watched his father in awe. As nerve-wracking as he was the day before, I could see his determination and focus now.

"Mommy, look at Daddy! He's so fast!" Louis exclaimed, his eyes wide with admiration.

I smiled down at him, ruffling his curly hair. "Yes, sweetheart. Daddy's amazing, isn't he?"

The match was intense, a true nail-biter. Real Madrid were fighting for every inch of the field, and it seemed like the entire stadium held its breath each time the ball neared the goal. My heart pounded with every pass, every tackle, and every shot. Then, in the 67th minute, it happened. A corner kick delivered by Toni Kroos in the air headed the ball and sent the it  sailing into the net. The stadium erupted into cheers, and I found myself screaming along with them, tears of joy streaming down my face at the end of the game it was 0-2 and Madrid had won

"They did it, Louis! They won!" I shouted, scooping him into my arms and spinning him around.

Louis giggled, his excitement matching mine. "Daddy's the best!"

As the final whistle blew, confirming their victory, the players collapsed onto the field, exhausted but triumphant. The commentator's voice echoed through the stadium, announcing the team's first Champions League win in 2 years. The player's names were chanted by thousands of fans, but Jude's  eyes searched the stands until they found us. He gave a little wave, and I blew him a kiss, mouthing the words, "I'm so proud of you."

After a few minutes of celebration on the pitch, Jude was called for a short post-match interview. He stood there, still catching his breath, as the interviewer began.

"Jude, congratulations on your incredible win! How are you feeling right now?"

"Thank you so much. Honestly, it's hard to put into words. This victory means the world to me. The adrenaline is still pumping, and I'm just overwhelmed with joy and gratitude."

"You've mentioned before that your family's support means everything to you. Can you tell us more about that?"

"Absolutely. My wife and our son, Louis, they're my rock. They've been with me every step of the way, cheering me on through the highs and lows. I couldn't have achieved this without them."

"And how does it feel to have them here with you tonight?"

"It's everything. Knowing they're in the stands, supporting me, it gives me that extra boost of motivation. Louis's face lights up when he sees me on the pitch, and my wife, she's my anchor. I'm just so grateful to have them by my side."

"You've certainly made a lot of people proud tonight. Any final words?"

"I just want to thank everyone who's supported me along this journey, especially my family. This win is as much theirs as it is mine. And to Y/n , I love you more than words can express. Thank you for being my rock, my everything."

"Any plans for the rest of the evening?"

"Just soaking it all in, really. I'm just happy. Now, I have to go and find my wife and son. They're waiting for me, and I can't wait to celebrate with them."

With that, Jude's eyes sparkled with excitement, and he bid the interviewer farewell before quickly making his way to the stands, where Louis and I were eagerly waiting for him.

"You did it, Daddy!" Louis squealed, wrapping his arms around Jude's neck.

Jude laughed, pulling him close. "We did it, little man. We did it."

Then he turned to me, his eyes glistening with tears of joy. He reached out and pulled me into a tight embrace. "I couldn't have done it without you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

I stroked his back, feeling his body tremble with relief and happiness. "I'm so proud of you, Jude. You've worked so hard for this."

He hugged me tighter, burying his face in my shoulder. "Don't let go," he murmured. "I just want to take this moment in."

We stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, as the world celebrated around us. As he pulled back slightly, I noticed the goosebumps on his arms. "Aren't you cold?" I asked, concerned. "You can take my jacket."

He shook his head, a wide smile on his face. "No, it's fine. The adrenaline is keeping me warm. I'm okay."

We laughed, and I kissed him softly, feeling the warmth of his lips. He took my hand, and together we walked onto the field, Louis perched happily on Jude's shoulders. The stadium was a whirlwind of celebration, with fans cheering, confetti falling, and cameras flashing. We joined Jude's teammates and their families, sharing hugs and congratulations. Louis quickly found some of the other children and started playing, their laughter ringing out across the field.

"Can you believe this?" Jude asked, his voice filled with wonder as he watched Louis and the other kids running around, pretending to be their football heroes.

I smiled, squeezing his hand. "It's surreal. I'm so happy for you, Jude. You've achieved your dream."

He leaned in and kissed my forehead. "And I couldn't have done it without you. Your support, your love—it means everything to me."

We continued our tour, mingling with the other players and their wives. When Toni came over with his wife, and their three children.

"Congratulations, Jude!" Toni said, clapping Jude on the back. "You were incredible out there."

"Thanks, mate," Jude replied, smiling broadly. "We all were. It was a team effort, just sad to see you go man.

"I know, but my time has come it's time for me to make room for the next Generation, I need to make room for people like you"

Jude smiled at Toni and they embraced eachother when all of a sudden

Toni's  hugged me, her eyes shining. "How are you holding up? That was an intense match!"

I laughed, still feeling the adrenaline coursing through me. "I'm just so relieved it's over and that they won! It's like a dream come true."

Our conversation was interrupted by Louis running over, his cheeks flushed with excitement. "Mommy, Daddy, look! I'm playing with the big kids!"

Jude laughed, lifting him up. "You're doing great, buddy. One day, you might be out here playing for real."

Louis's eyes sparkled. "Really, Daddy? You think I can?"

"Of course, I do," Jude said, ruffling his hair. "With hard work and determination, you can do anything."

As we walked around the pitch, we took photos and videos to capture every precious moment. Jude and I posed with the trophy, Louis standing proudly between us, his tiny hands resting on the gleaming cup.

"This is for the memories," Jude said, his voice soft and full of emotion as he snapped a selfie of us.

"For the memories," I echoed, my heart swelling with love and pride.

Later, we joined the other families in a group photo, everyone beaming with joy. The children were all gathered in front, their smiles bright and infectious. It was a beautiful scene, one that embodied the spirit of teamwork, dedication, and love.

As the celebrations slowly wound down, we found a quiet moment to sit together on the grass, watching Louis play nearby with the other kids.

"Can you believe this?" Jude asked, his voice filled with wonder. "We did it."

I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth and strength. "Yes, we did. And I couldn't be happier."

Jude wrapped his arm around me, holding me close. "This is just the beginning," he said. "With you and Louis by my side, I feel like I can achieve anything."

I smiled, feeling a deep sense of contentment. "We'll always be here for you, Jude. No matter what."

As we sat there, surrounded by the remnants of celebration and the echoes of cheers, I knew that this moment would be etched in our hearts forever. It was the culmination of years of hard work, sacrifice, and unwavering support. And it was a testament to the power of love and family.

Jude glanced down at his phone, which had been buzzing with messages of congratulations. He smiled and took a quick selfie of us, capturing our joy and love in that perfect moment. "For the memories," he said, showing me the photo.

I nodded, my heart swelling with love. "For the memories," I echoed.

As the night drew to a close, we gathered our things and made our way off the pitch. Louis was half-asleep in Jude's arms, worn out from all the excitement. We walked hand-in-hand, leaving the stadium behind but carrying the night's magic with us.

In the car, Jude looked back at the stadium one last time, a look of fulfillment and determination on his face. "This is just the beginning," he repeated, more to himself than to me.

I squeezed his hand, feeling the strength of our bond and the promise of our future. "And we'll be with you every step of the way."

As we drove home, the city lights shining brightly around us, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together. Jude had achieved his dream, and in doing so, he had shown us all the true power of perseverance, love, and family.

When we arrived home, Louis was sound asleep in Jude's arms. Jude carried him upstairs and gently placed him in his bed, tucking him in with a kiss on his forehead. I stood in the doorway, watching this tender moment, my heart swelling with love.

"You really are an amazing father," I whispered as Jude joined me, closing Louis's door softly.

He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. "And you're an amazing mother and wife. I couldn't have done any of this without you."

We walked to our bedroom, the excitement of the day slowly giving way to a peaceful calm. As we got ready for bed, Jude turned to me, his eyes filled with a deep, abiding love.

Jude and I lie in bed, still buzzing from the excitement of the day's events. I open my phone and scroll through social media, reading the countless messages of congratulations and admiration for Jude and our family. People are buzzing about how Jude celebrated his first Champions League victory with his family, highlighting his heartfelt words about us in the interview.

I read some of the headlines aloud to Jude:

“Jude Bellingham’s Heartwarming Tribute to His Family After Champions League Win”

“Jude Bellingham Celebrates Victory with Wife and Son – Fans Are Melting!”

“Champions League Hero: Jude Bellingham’s Emotional Speech on Family and Success”

“Jude Bellingham’s Adorable Celebration with His Wife and Son Captivates Fans”

“Jude Bellingham Dedicates Champions League Win to His Loving Family”

Switching to Instagram, I see a flood of comments under the photos and videos we posted:

jobebellingham: You guys are such an amazing family! So happy for you! 🥰

toby: What a beautiful moment! You and Jude are an inspiration. ❤️

noah: This is what football is all about. Much love to you and your family! 💪🏽👏🏽

vinijr: Seeing the love between you guys is incredible. Congrats! 🙌🏽✨

camavinga: Your support for Jude is everything. Proud of you all! 💖🙌🏽

lukamodric10: Family goals right here. Enjoy this moment! 🏆💫

toni.kr8s: Such a beautiful family. Well deserved win! 😊🙌🏽

rodrygogoes: So much love in these photos. Congratulations! ❤️🔥

toniruediger: Amazing to see you guys so happy. Well done! 👏🏽👏🏽

dani.carvajal2: What a night! Beautiful family moments. Congrats! 🎉💪🏽

ferland_mendy: So happy for you guys! Enjoy the victory! ⚽❤️

nachofi1990: Family and football, the perfect combination. Congrats! 👏🏽😊

alaba_david: Beautiful to see you all so happy. Big congrats! 🌟🙌🏽

davidluiz_4: This is what dreams are made of! Congrats to you all! 🌟❤️

sergioramos: Family first, always. Proud of you, brother! 💪🏼👨‍👩‍👦‍👦

karimbenzema: Seeing you celebrate with your family warms my heart. Congrats, Jude! 🙌🏽💯

raphaelvarane: Beautiful family moments. Congratulations on the win, Jude! 🎉🏆

edenhazard: You're an inspiration, Jude. Congratulations to you and your lovely family! 🌟💖

thibautcourtois: Enjoy these special moments with your loved ones, Jude. You deserve it! 🥂👏🏼

nachofernandez: Family is everything. Congrats on the win, mate! 🙌🏼👨‍👩‍👦

scoalarcon: Seeing you celebrate with your family is priceless. Well done, Jude! 🎉👨‍👩‍👦

federicovalverde: Family time is the best time. Congrats, Jude! 🥳👨‍👩‍👦

eder_militao: Cherish these moments forever, Jude. Congrats 🏆💖

vasquez91: You guys are the definition of #FamilyGoals. Congrats, Jude! 🎉💑

I turn to Jude, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Can you believe this?" I say, my voice filled with wonder.

Jude wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. "I can't believe any of this," he says, his voice soft with awe. "But I know one thing for sure—I couldn't have asked for a better team to share it with."

I snuggle closer to him, feeling his warmth enveloping me and he kisses my forehead. In this moment, surrounded by love and joy, I know that no matter what the future holds, we'll always have each other.

[mrsdesade]

Hey!! i love your writing, feel free to ignore, but i just wanted to request homelander x reader where he introduces the reader to ryan or how the three of them spend time together, something like that

thank you!!

OF COURSE, I love the idea! Maybe I'll do a part.2 with all the headcanons about how they spent time together! Thanks for the request dear anon! :)

Pretty golden cage;

Pairing: Homelander x fem!super (Ophera as usual) TW: no one, just bit of tension/angst and Homie being an asshole Timeline: season 4 Words count: 3,6k

You always knew who Ryan was. Homelander's beloved son. Rumors about him were whispered by everyone at Vought Tower, and you had been paying attention over the years. You knew about his powers, about the unfortunate way he came into the world, and how attached Homelander was to him.

You already had your problems, you didn't mean to get close to that too. You never judged Ryan for his choices or his actions, quite the opposite. You felt quite sorry for him.

Trapped in a golden cage, with the suffocating attentions of his father, who continued to demand only perfection from and for him. It happened to you too, at the beginning of your relationship with Homelander. In which you are still trapped with no way out.

You had wondered why he still hadn't insisted on you being Ryan's mother. But that was okay, you didn't want it. Until the day arrived, the day of your official introduction to each others.

"Ryan, theres someone I want you to meet. This is Ophera.''

Ryan glances at you with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty, his eyes tracing the features of your incredibly beautiful face. Made for the spotlight. He's clearly intrigued by your appearance, but also a little intimidated by it.

"H-hi, Ophera."

You can feel the weight of Ryan's gaze on you, and you can sense his nervousness at finally meeting you. The situation definitely feels a bit bizarre, considering your complicated relationship with his father. You glance briefly at Homelander, unsure of how to approach this interaction.

He stands aside, watching you and his son, with a hint of trepidation. He seems just as uncertain about how you two will interact. He silently observes your reaction and lets you respond to him.

You can't deny it to yourself, one misstep with the little boy and everything is over for you. But you've never been good with children, and you know her father's expectations are very high. He will not admit any mistakes or flaws.

Trying to break the ice, Ryan smiles at you, even though is a slightly wobbly smile, and asks a question.

"So, you're... the singer, right? I saw you on tv. And my dad speak a lot about you and your music."

His words surprise you a little. You're not used to hearing Homelander talking about you, at least positively. You try to find the right words to respond to his comment with a gentle smile.

"Yes, It's me. And I am surprised that your father talks about me to you. Did he say something nice?" you can't help but wonder what else he's told him.

"Yeah. He said your singing voice is really beautiful and that you have a lot of fans. He also said you can control some kinds of metal and you're really strong. He's lucky to have a woman like you to his side."

''Oh, uhm, yeah-- yes...he's right.''

The situation becomes more and more weird for you, you don't know what the point of the situation is, or because Homelander wanted you to meet Ryan. Out of courtesy or for some other strange reason?

As the conversation continues, you can't shake off the feeling that there's a deeper meaning behind this meeting. Homelander's intentions are unclear and there's definitely something else behind this introduction. He seems to be carefully watching your every interaction with his son, analyzing your reactions and responses.

Ryan seems to be more at ease now, and his nervousness begins to fade away while he walk with you around the room and making you sit beside him on the sofa. But there is still silence between you, you don't know what to talk about.

You take a deep breath and decide that you have to improvise, you lean towards the boy and pretend to whisper something to him, in an gentle and funny way.

''I know it's hard for you too, I understand, it's embarrassing to have to interact like this...but let's say something, anything, so your dad will be happy and he let's us go back to our business.''

Ryan looks at you with a mixture of curiosity and relief. He seems a bit surprised by your casual and friendly approach, but he clearly appreciates it. He lowers his voice too and responds in a whisper.

"Yeah, it's a bit weird. My dad's been talking about you a lot, but I didn't know what to say or what to ask you…"

Homelander, noticing Ryan's relaxed expression and your attempt to break the ice, finally decides to join the conversation. His voice is light, friendly sarcastic.

"I can't believe you're talking about me behind my back.'' he says with a hint of faux-offended tone in his voice. He walks over to where you and his son are sitting, takes a seat on the armchair opposite the sofa.

''Come on, you can ask her whatever you want, she don't bite.''

"Okay, then...um..."

He takes a moment, clearly thinking of a question to ask. He glances at you, then back at his father. It's evident that he's not sure what kind of question will please his dad.

Seeing how Ryan is in difficulty, you decide to take the reins of the situation.

''Listen, Homelander. I really appreciate you wanting me to meet your son...it's really cute from you. And he seems a good little boy. But I don't understand what's happening and why I am here today.''

"Ah, always to the point, aren't you?" he replies, a note of sarcasm in his voice.

"I just want to introduce my son to the woman I care about."

You don't believe his sweet words, you know he only does it to appear like a good person in front of his son. But you can't expose him, you don't want to, you're just trying to understand what's your role is in this show.

Homelander notices the skepticism on your face, but he remains cool and composed.

"Oh, come on! Can't I be a loving father who wants his son to meet the woman he's dating?"

The word "dating" stings you as soon as it crosses his lips. It's not true, you're not actually dating, not in the traditional understanding of the term. Ryan looks between you and his father, a bit perplexed by the interaction. The boy's clearly not used to this dynamic.

Any other woman would have acted differently, she would have thrown herself into cuddling and giving affecction to the boy without hesitation. Even just for fear of not pleasing his father. But you don't have this instinct. The maternal instinct has never belonged to you. And now you feel the weight of it, you really want to help Ryan get out from this situation, but you are in difficult too. And all your stage audacity seems to vanish in front of a child.

''Sure, sure you can...I wonder why you didn't introduce us sooner.''

Homelander gives a little laugh, enjoying your sarcastic response.

"Who knows..." he replies nonchalant. "I guess I just wanted to wait for the right moment. But now, here we are. And I think Ryan already likes you."

Ryan, who has been quietly following the conversation, nods in agreement. He doesn't seem entirely convinced or comfortable in the situation, his eyes are searching for yours. Subconsciously hoping that you can show more humanity than all the other supers he's met so far.

"Yeah, you're... cool. I listened to your song, I like them."

''Oh, and what's your favourite?---'' you are about to answer to him, finally with a normal kind of conversation, but you are interrupted.

"See? Looks like you've got a new fan!" Homelander gets up from the armchair, walking over to stand behind you on the sofa. His hand rests possessively on your shoulder.

"Isn't she great?" he asks, looking down at you with a hint of malice in his eyes. "She's smart, talented, and beautiful. The perfect woman."

Ryan nods again, trying to look enthusiastic, but something in his expression seems forced.

You can't tolerate this, you sense Ryan's anxiety constantly. You and him are trapped in the same cage. Then you then turn to Homelander and give him a seemingly kind smile, trying to you try to change the subject. You're going to put up with it for the little boy's sake.

''Seems pretty clear that I've been approved.''

Homelander grins, satisfied with your response. He gives your shoulder a light, almost condescending little pat.

"Oh, definitely approved." he says, the possessive hint in his tone still there. "He's a smart kid, he knows a good person when he sees one."

Ryan looks at you from across the room, trying to gauge your reaction. He can sense that you're trying to make things better, but the atmosphere in the room is still a bit awkward.

"Buddy, why don't you ask her to sing a little something for us?" Homelander ask, clearly intending not to let the moment end.

The little one looks surprised by the imprompt request. He glances briefly at you, clearly hesitant about the idea. Seeing his discomfort, you give him a reassuring look, as if to tell that you can handle it. At least that would have been a good moment.

''I don't know dad, maybe she doesn't want to, maybe she's tired...''

''Nah. It's just a little song, it won't hurt her, will it?" Homelander's expression hardens slightly, his tone becoming sarcastic.

"Um…can you sing something for us…please?"

''What's your favourite song of mine Ryan? I'd love to sing for you.'' you gently said to Ryan, leaning in his direction. Trying your best to create a serene moment out of this tense situation. He seems grateful for your attempt to divert the situation from his father's command to sing.

"I like your cover of I Can't Help Falling in Love. Could you sing that?''

You nod slightly, smiling gently at Ryan. ''Great choice.''

You take a moment to gather your thoughts, and then start to hum to warm up a little. Then, taking a deep breath, you begin to sing the opening notes, your eyes closing for a moment as you surrender to the music.

''Wise men say only fools rush in. But I can't help falling in love with you. Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?''

As you begin to sing, both find themselves mesmerized by your voice. Even Homelander, who has heard you countless times before, is once again taken aback by the power and emotion you infuse in your voice. Ryan, seems to forget the situation he's in and the tension in the air. He leans slightly forward, his eyes wide open, listening to your voice filling the room.

''Darling, so it goes. Some things are meant to be. Take my hand, take my whole life, too. For I can't help falling in love with you.''

The lyrics of the song seem to echo even more in that room. You're not just singing, you're communicating in the best way you know.

The last few notes of your singing trail off in the air, as the room falls into a moment of reverent silence. Your eyes open, and you look at Ryan, who seems completely enraptured by your voice.

''Wo-hoow! Your voice live is a thousand times more beautiful than on TV.'' the boy lets out a spontaneous and sincere comment, and you find yourself laughing softly, sincerely, this time.

''You're too cute little one, I'm happy you appreciate my version of this song.''

''It's awesome, you're awesome! I'd like to see you live one day, the whole show!''

''Whenever you want kid, I'll get you a VIP pass to have the best seat in the whole stadium.''

''Really?? You're not joking right?''

''Dinner with the celebrity and Meet and Greet included.'' you can't help but gently indulge him, his spontaneity and his desire to escape from routine.

Ryan's eyes light up at the proposition and he felt comfortable continuing the conversation with a genuinely happy expression on his face. It's obvious that this little exchange between you two has lifted his spirits.

Homelander, on the other hand, seems a little taken aback by the interaction. He's not used to see you so... genuine and soft with someone. He claps his hands, disrupting the moment of calm. As if needing to regain some control.

''What a lovely bonding time we had here. You are making me really happy.''

You feel slightly irritated by his sudden interruption. You are still smiling, but now it's a little forced. Your eyes dart towards him, and your expression seems to say "Really? Just when something good was happening, you have to ruin it?"

Nevertheless, your years of experience with the Vought Company and your work as a celebrity have taught you the art of masking your true feelings. So, you don't let your annoyance shine through too much, at least not in front of Ryan.

Homelander, noticing the change in your expression, seems to realize that he might have intervened at the wrong time. He didn't really mean to interrupt the bonding moment between you and Ryan, but rather, he felt a little left out.

As if he wanted to say: "Hey, look at me. I want to be part of this, too."

His sudden intervention seems to be driven more by a need to be acknowledged and included than by a desire to intentionally ruin the situation. Despite the fact that you've been with him for years, and you know he's a narcissistic asshole, the current moment seems to reveal a slightly different aspect of him.

As you notice the hint of vulnerability in Homelander's eyes, your irritation slightly lessens. You know him too well, and you can tell when he's faking his usual arrogant confidence and when he genuinely feels left out.

It's almost comical how someone as powerful and imposing as him can feel left out.

You're trying to maintain your composure, to keep your guard up, but a part of you can't help but find him a bit... cute, in this moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability.

''Don't worry big boy, I have a VIP pass for you too.'' you say laughing, looking at Ryan, as If you're seeking his support after making a little joke at his father.

Ryan can't help but chuckle at your little comment. He looks up at his father, clearly amused to see him taken aback by your joke. Homelander glares at you for a moment, pretending to be annoyed, but there's a twinkle in his eye, as if he secretly enjoys the little banter.

"Yeah, right, very funny... I guess I'll need that front row seat. Like I need your permission to have one.''

''Ooh, someone's getting defensive now, are we?'' you tease.

Ryan laughs even more, enjoying this whole situation. You can tell that the boy has been craving for some lighthearted moments, considering what he's gone through.

"Well, to be fair, it's good to have options, right dad? You can't always rely on your superpowers to grab the best seat."

You and Ryan share a knowing glance, a silent alliance between you.

"Oh, shut it, you two. I'm the one taking care of the both of you, you should be grateful." he says, his tone carrying no real threat.

Slowly the atmosphere becomes pleasant for all three, and so you spend an hour together. The conversation gradually shifts from teasing banter to more casual topics. Homelander eventually starts to relax a bit, his typical guard lowering. Ryan seems to genuinely enjoy the time spent with both of you, and the boy's innocent and endearing presence helps to ease the tension that sometimes exists between you and Homelander.

As the sun begins to set and the shadows grow longer, the day starts to wind down. The room is bathed in the soft, golden light of the evening, creating a cozy atmosphere.

As the evening progresses, you slowly start to realize that you're actually enjoying yourself. Spending time with Ryan, feels strangely...comfortable. Your initial plan of tolerating a child just for Homelander's sake is slowly replaced by the realization that this kid is not so bad after all. You find yourself smiling easily, genuinely enjoying the little exchanges.

The realization is a bit unsettling to you. It's not that you're used to seeing yourself as a particularly warm and compassionate person. You can't help but question your own prejudices and assumptions about yourself. Perhaps, beneath the hardened persona that you've built up over the years, there's a softer side to you that you forgot.

As the last rays of sunlight disappear and the night sky takes over.

''Ryan, you should get some rest. It's late."

''What? Why now? I was showing Ophera my movie collections!'' the boy protests, making you laugh.

''No arguing. Come on, bedtime." Homelander's tone is firm but gentle, and you see Ryan clearly not happy to have to end the fun.

''I'm not a child dad, I mean, I can stay awake more...''

You approach him and put a hand on his back with kindness, then you try to convince him with a more delicate but still original approach.

''Hey Ryan, listen to me, I suppose we're way past your bedtime. And pretty boy need rest to stay pretty. You don't want to wake up tomorrow with dark circles under your eyes, do you?''

"I guess you're right... I don't want to look like a zombie tomorrow." he end the argument with a little joke.

You chuckle with a hint of satisfaction at Ryan's response. Seeing how the boy accepted your words, makes you glad that you didn't have to rely on Homelander's authoritative approach to get him to comply.

''Very well. Now, go and get some beauty sleep.''

He took all of his stuff and then he wave a cute goodbye to you and Homelander before heading off to his room. As the sound of his footsteps slowly fades away, there's a moment of silence between you two.

Time for the showdown.

"Well, isn't this touching. My two favorite people… getting along so well."

You turn to face Homelander, raising an eyebrow at his comment and becoming serious again, like everytimes he try and succeed to manipulate you.

"I'm not doing this for you.''

"Is that so? Funny, I thought you hated children. Yet here you are… playing the role of a loving mother.” he teases.

The moment the word mother leaves his mouth, you can't help but visibly tense up. Your eyes narrow and your jaw clenches, a mix of anger and discomfort showing on your face. Being referred to as a “mother” triggers a deep-seated anxiety within you, stirring up memories and fears that you've worked hard to suppress. The word carries a weight that you don’t want to associate with yourself.

You take a deep breath, trying your best to conceal the inner turmoil that his words have stirred up. It's ironic that he should use that word, given the fact that you, in your mind, you’ve never seen yourself as a motherly type. It feels like a cruel mockery, a reminder of something that you have never been taught and that sadly you will never be able to understand.

''Don't you dare. I know your plan, and no, I'm not going to play the role of a mother for him. Being your partner causes me enough stress.''

He sees the reaction that the word mother elicits from you and he smirks, realizing that he has found a vulnerable spot.

"Don't be so tensed, sweetheart..." he steps closer to you, a hint of mischief in his eyes, enjoying the fact that he's managed to get under your skin.

"You know, Ryan needs a mother figure in his life. Someone who can guide him, care for him. You could be that person. I know you're capable of it, deep down.”

"Oh, spare me the sentimental crap." you snap, your voice filled with irritation and defiance. You know he's trying to manipulate you, to make you feel guilty for not wanting to be what the little boy needs.

"Don't you dare assume you know what I'm capable of. I have my own duties and responsibilities. Being a motherly figure for your kid wasn't part of the deal..."

"You may deny it, but I can see the way you interacted with the boy. You connected with him, in your own unique way. And it would be really cruel from you to deprive him of a mother's love right now that he's bonding with you.''

He's trying to make you feel guilty, and oh God, he's succeeding.

His words touch a nerve, making you inwardly squirm, of anger and guilt inside you. You know he's trying to play on your emotions and make you feel responsible for depriving Ryan of something he needs.

"Besides, think about it as an opportunity," Homelander continues his manipulation, moving even closer to you, his voice becoming softer, his eyes meeting yours.

"The perfect family picture, you and me and Ryan.''

The thought of having a "perfect family picture'' with Homelander and Ryan both disgusts you and scares you, yet a small part of you secretly yearns for the sense of belonging and family that's been missing in your life.

''No, I can't...absolutely not.''

''I know you can be that for him. I saw it with my own eyes. And you're going to be. Or else..." there's a sinister undertone in his chuckle.

''Or else what?'' you answer, facing him, feeling trapped again, without any free will.

''Oh, sweetheart, you don't wanna find out.'' he concluded, slowly crawling with his hand gripping lightly your throat, forcing you to look up at him.

Reminding you once again, that you're the celebrity, but he's the one who directs every show, every chapter of your life.

-------

Thanks again for the request, it was really good to write, hope you like it! Kisses <3

[halfbloodgf]

Can we talk about the fact that Severus Snape left everyone, both the characters and the readers, like this: 🤡🤡

I mean, no one knew wtf was going on with him. One moment u think he's bad, the next u think he's good. And then u think he's the villain again. But then he gives his memories to Harry and we all realize that he was the fucking hero all along.

In hp1, we think it's Snape who was trying to steal the philosopher's stone, or who tried to knock Harry off his broom. But then comes the end, and we find out that he stopped Harry from falling (saved his life) and was protecting the stone...🤡

We still hated him in hp 2 and 3...

In hp4 Harry suspects that Snape had the Dark Mark, and ends up discovering that he did. There's even the scene that Harry sees: Igor Karkaroff accuses Snape in court in front of the Wizengamot, saying he was a Death Eater, and we're all like😯😃 (finally know the truth!!). But then Dumbledore defends him😐🧍🏻‍♀️, and no one, not Karkaroff, not Harry, not us readers, understand anything. We don't know whether to trust him or not. So, again...🤡

In hp5 everything is confusing with him. We don't know if he wants to help Harry (occlumency lessons) or not. He calls Voldemort "Dark Lord" (only Death Eaters do), we see his worst memory, which, again, leaves us bewildered and not knowing what the hell to think of him now. Harry himself doubts that his father was a good person, even wondering if James didn't force Lily to marry him, and empathizes with Snape. Then the whole thing with the prophecies, and Harry trying to warn Snape about Sirius and his supposed kidnapping. The Order arrives to save Harry and his friends, which suggests that Snape warned them.

But along comes hp and the Half-Blood Prince, Snape appears to be helping Draco Malfoy with what the Lord entrusted him with —The scene where Bellatrix accuses him, tells him that she doesn't trust him, and then she is surprised:

In the books:

[...]Do you really think that the Dark Lord has not asked me each and every one of those questions? And do you really think that, had I not been able to give satisfactory answers, I would be sitting here talking to you?”

She hesitated. “I know he believes you, but…”

“You think he is mistaken? Or that I have somehow hoodwinked him? Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard, the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen?”

[...]

“And through all this we are supposed to believe Dumbledore has never suspected you?” asked Bellatrix. “He has no idea of your true allegiance, he trusts you implicitly still?”

“I have played my part well,” said Snape.

In the movies:

The line where he says “Dumbledore is a great wizard”, Snape is actually being smug and subtly saying he’s such a good actor (I mean, come on, the man deserves a fucking Oscar), he’s managed to deceive Voldemort so well that he has revealed his grand plan to him. He practically seems to be laughing at the double meaning of his own words, mocking and lying to the black sister's faces like the fucking boss he is. The way he's literally drinking a glass of wine while laughing at the Dark Lord. The whole scene is just excellent.

So at the end of hp6, Snape reveals to us that he was the half-blood prince for whom the fucking book is named, ends up murdering none other than ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, and we all learn that all this time his true loyalties were with the dark side...🤡

Oh no, wait! Hp7 arrives, Voldemort kills Snape :0 (Yes!), gives his memories to Harry, and Harry sees his memories and... (NOO😦😨😰😭💔💀). We found out he wasn't the bad guy. That, in fact, he was IN LOVE WITH HARRY'S MOM —"always" still hurts :')— That all this time he was our ally...🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

He practically played with all of us, with LORD VOLDEMORT, the Death Eaters, the Order of the Phoenix, Harry... well, WITH EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE WIZARDING WORLD. And he did it as if he were:

Harry fucking Potter named one of his sons after him, which must have made a lot of people roll in their graves (James and Sirius out of anger, Snape out of laughter).

This mf literally woke up one day and said: "okay, here begins my reputation era bitches.😎 Let's leave a few of them looking like🤡🤡"

PD: Sorry if something is written wrong, english is not my language.

[cameronspecial]

Hey I just finished reading Until My Dying Breath, and omg the detail was so amazing! One of the best I’ve ever read! I was thinking maybe as a request a pt 2 to that, maybe after they finished getting checked and can go home, Rafe is so nervous what readers parents are gonna say, he thinks there gonna say stuff like how he can’t see reader anymore, but he doesn’t tell reader that’s how he’s feeling. Later when rafe and reader are together readers dad comes and pulls him aside and thanks him over and over again for protecting his daughter. It can go anywhere from there just an idea!

Please do not feel the need that u have to do this! Much love 🤍🤍🤍

Not My Last Breath

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Being In The Hospital, Talks Of An Accident and Injuries

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.5K

A/N: This is part two of Until My Dying Breath.

Masterlist

Her bill of clean health means Y/N can stay by Rafe’s side while the doctors keep him for observation. She traces her fingers over the lines of his palm, oblivious to the loving look her boyfriend is giving her. “Y/N/N,” a deep voice resonates through the room. The couple’s gazes turn toward the open door to find her parents. She scrambles out of her chair and throws herself into her family’s arms. Rafe notices the way her parents’ arms pull her in for a tiger hug. Her father presses a kiss to her temple. “We are so glad you are both okay,” her mother whispers loud enough for the whole room to hear. Rafe responds, “Thank you.” He averts his eyes, clawing at the thin bedding. This catches Mr. Y/L/N’s attention. “Why don’t you go get something to eat with your mother, Y/N/N? You need your energy,” he suggests. “I’ll keep Rafe company. Maybe you can bring something back for him too.”

Sensing he needs to talk to her boyfriend, Y/N nods and follows her mother to the cafeteria. Rafe takes a deep breath. His eyes are trained on the way the older gentleman turns to him, readying himself for a verbal scolding. 

He promised to keep Y/N safe and he failed. He loves Y/N, but he’ll understand if Mr. Y/L/N forces her to break up with him. He won’t like it, but he’ll understand. He is going to buy her a house. Or better yet, he will let her have Tannyhill and he can move somewhere else. Maybe on the Cut. He certainly deserves to live in that hellhole after what he let Y/N get hurt. 

The chair creaks under the weight of Clarence Y/L/N. Rafe’s brows furrow while he watches Clarence find his composure. Once his thoughts are arranged, Mr. Y/L/N says his peace. “Thank you.” Rafe is caught off guard. Out of everything he assumed would come out of the other man’s mouth, gratitude was not what he expected. “I’m sorry,” Rafe baffles, his head tilts. Clarence clears his throat, “Y/N/N told me what you did. That you protected her and put her first when the accident happened. That through the drumming of the rain, your reassuring words pierced through it and calmed her fear.”

“So you aren’t angry at me? You don’t want us to break up?”

The father’s head jerks to the side, “Why in the world would I want that to happen?”

“I got into an accident with Y/N on my back. She could’ve died. I put her in harm's way.”

“You didn’t mean for it to happen Rafe. You can’t control the weather or what the universe has planned. But what you could control was how you reacted. And in that moment your instincts told you to protect my daughter like you promised.”

The boyfriend lets out a sigh, “So this isn’t my last breath.”

Clarence chuckles and pats Rafe’s left shoulder. “No, Son. This is the first breath you take with my blessing to marry my daughter. When you are both ready, of course.” The injured male grins, placing his hand on top of the palm on him. “Thank you, Sir. That means a lot to me,” he reveals. High pitch laughter approaching the room stunts the conversation and both men grin at the return of the love of their lives. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[finalresidentevilfantasy]

I'm just here thinking about soft Leon, getting a glimpse of normal life away from his job filled with chaos. Just fluffy, no real warnings here.

She stirred in her sleep, a breeze through the open window having tickled her face. Her hand instinctively moving to his side of the bed, hand falling on cold sheets. She furrowed her brows, sitting up slowly as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

The carpet felt soft against her feet as she threw off the duvet, slowly making her way from their shared bed in search of her husband, although she had an idea where he might be.

She was quiet as her feet padded down the landing, stopping outside the door of the nursery. She quietly opened the door, eyes finding their beautiful son, tucked up asleep in his cot, she smiled in endearment, he looked so much like his father already.

"Hey." She smiled softly as her eyes found her husband. She knew he'd be here, their son having just been ill, Leon going into overdrive, a worrier and protecter at heart, his family was everything to him.

"You're awake?" His soft voice followed as he moved his eyes to her frame, a goddess to him, he wouldn't ever tire of worshipping the ground she walked on. He always considered himself lucky to be in her presense.

"Yeah." She said through a yawn, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. "Come back to bed baby." Her comforting voice asked her lover.

"Ten more minutes." Leon whispered but they both knew it was horseshit. Leon's protective instinct had kicked in, he wanted to make sure his son was okay, not let a sole near him.

"Leon he's okay, he's better now." She approched him, his frame in the chair they kept in the nursery for reading their two year old stories. Her hands found his shoulders and he visibly relaxed as she massaged his tense muscles.

Leon was never sure he wanted children or even marriage, not sure his lifestyle would ever accomodate it. Hell he wasn't sure he wanted to bring a child into the world they lived in. Then he met her and everything changed.

Within 2 years his knee was hitting the floor and he couldn't contain his excitment as she told him she was pregnant. She was nervous, biting her bottom lip as she tried to think of the best way to tell him, they weren't trying, one drunken night and forgotten condom later and there she was. Pregnancy test in hand. He was the perfect dad, completely devoted to his son, there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for him.

Leon hummed in response, feeling as his wifes hands travelled down his shirt, warm hands carrassing the skin of his chest and he relaxed, head lolling back onto her shoulder as she rested her chin against his own.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. Mouth lingering next to his ear as she softly spoke into it.

"Relax baby. You need sleep." He looked so tired, his training having kicked in allowing him to stay up all night but that didn't mean it didn't take it's toll. "He's okay, the doctors cleared him, it was just the flu." She comforted, she knew he'd do this, forever a worrier.

"I know, I just..." he cut himself off, looking at their peacefully sleeping son, smile of endearment on his lips.

"I know." She said as she placed her chin atop his head. They stayed that way for a good few minutes, basking in each others warmth as their son slept soundly. She yawned again, eyes fluttering closed.

"Baby, you need to go back to bed." Leon spoke as her head dropped back to his shoulder.

"Come with me? Bed's cold without you." She tried to coax her husband with her. He complied this time, taking her hand as he stood, his own tiredness getting to him, she relaxed him enough to feel the toll.

"Better keep my wife warm then, don't want her freezing to death." Leon smiled down at her before lifting her easily into his arms, bridal style. Her heart would always flutter at his strength, she wouldn't lie, she loved to be manhandled by her husband.

Hands that had killed, so gentle with her, strength that had him overpowering monsters with ease, yet he'd never use it against her. So soft and gentle with his princess.

She smiled up at him, reaching to place a kiss on his jawline and he smiled down at her. All the love in the world filling his eyes as he looked at his beautiful wife, he wondered how he got so lucky.

"I love you." She mumbled as her eyes drifted shut again and he let out a soft laugh as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

"I love you too baby, more than you'll ever understand."

[yuri-is-online]

...so you just threw this beautiful idea of Fyuuture kid, and left me with a brainrot? Especially after you answered one ask with i quote "he loves his parent so much and was really fighting it to keep it together when he saw them alive again" end of the quote. WHAT DO YOU MEAN AGAIN? WHAT? HOW?

ask 1 and ask 2

Oh 👉👈? I wasn't expecting to get an ask about this au ever again actually, but I am so glad you did, I like it a lot. I mentioned Fire Emblem Awakening in the first ask I got about it but for those of you who haven't played the game, the plot features the children of your army traveling back in time to try and prevent the end of the world. That's more or less what happened in the fyuuture kid au, at least in my first draft... I always end up associating the "future kid meets their parents" trope with either FE: Awakening or I guess Golden Sun? Which I think is the name of the jrpg where something similar happens idk I just like there being a reason for the kid to need to meet their parents.

In my original draft of the au, Yuu was told by Crowley there was no way home for them, so they settled down with Yutu's father and started building a life together. This turned out to not be true, as the Magical Marshall's office began investigating the overblots that happened while Yuu was in school and came to the conclusion Yuu had something to do with them; so they were secretly arrested, cursed to forget everything about Twisted Wonderland, and sent home. The curse was meant to trigger every time Yuu vaguely remembered their time in the otherworld, with the idea their brain would prevent them from thinking about it after a while. They would have justified it, if anyone had been there to ask, by saying Yuu wouldn't know they were missing anything and would be able to live a happy life. When Yutu was born that made that outcome impossible, but the Marshal's office didn't think to check if Yuu was pregnant...

Shortly after they did that though strange things started happening. Monster attacks got more frequent, blot levels started rising, not to extremes immediately but still enough to be concerning. Reports of a strange, abyssal magic using beast, started pouring in to S.T.Y.X. suspiciously close to Grim's description. While Yuu was busy trying to put their life back together in their world, Twisted Wonderland slowly began to fall apart drowning under an ink colored sky. The overblot phantoms they fought come back and begin hunting in their respective homelands, and rumor has it they can turn certain mages into their thralls...

The curse slowly eats away at Yuu's brain, every time they see something that reminds them of their friends, their time at NRC, every time Yutu does something that would make them think about how much he takes after his dad, they feel a great deal of physical pain and temporarily lose the ability to function. It's killing them, and no doctor or specialist can figure out the cause, so Yutu just has to sit there and watch his parent slowly die and not be able to do anything about it. I was uncertain of where exactly I wanted Yuu to die in the story, but it always was around when Yutu gets isekaid to NRC, either before and he had to leave them behind or after when they both get to go home finally! But Yuu doesn't completely make it, they're able to have one moment of peace with their son and Professor Crewel before passing on.

Yutu's dad changes depending on who you want it to be of course, as does whether they met before he and his friends decided to go back in time to prevent this version of the future from ever happening, but his feelings about Yuu never changes. Yutu really admires his parent, he did even before he learned about them facing down overblots! They were really close and the more he learned about their curse, the more responsible he felt for their death. He's very determined to keep Yuu alive and safe in Twisted Wonderland in this timeline, even if it costs him his life.

His opinion on his dad really changes depending on who it is and what he learns about them. Like can you imagine learning your dad was known for being obsessed with teeth and no he had no intention of being a dentist? Clown behavior 💀💀💀 His friends were all ocs I made but never really developed... I do remember that one was a younger sibling of Kalim's (who could be his aunt if you like Kalim and absolutely embraces that role), her retainer, Crewel's son who also sees himself as Yutu's uncle (the feeling isn't mutual) because he is old enough to sort of remember Yuu and thinks of them as a sibling, and a random oc I based off of the kid from Up for no reason other than I like the movie. They also came back in time, but only Yutu ended up in the right place, just like fire emblem awakening.

idk I should probably do something with it. like writing the reactions for the other dorms...

[cosmicstarlatte]

You ARE The Father! Pt.2 (Obey Me!)

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

->Click here for [Part 1: Demon Bros]

After getting back to the human world you realized you were pregnant. You decided to keep it a secret your whole pregnancy. After having the baby/babies for a few weeks, you finally decide to tell your baby daddy.

»Characters: Dateables

»Tags: Unplanned Pregnancy, Female Reader, Fluff and Angst, Certified Simeon Simp, Just a Smidge of Humor, Half-story Half-bulleted style

»Notes: I really hope you guys like this one, it felt so good to finally write part 2. 🥺♡

Diavolo:

Separating from him to go back home after the program was difficult but you decided it was for the best at the time, for him and the realm. It was heartbreaking and you might've regreted it a little. Anyway when you realized you were pregnant with his child, you were nervous to tell Diavolo about it. He already had so much on his plate everyday. You didn't want to bother him with appointments and other things. He had a whole realm to take care of after all. But you also knew you couldn't keep the secret forever (especially because what if your baby needed special demon care?) You finally call him one day weeks after birth.

"What exactly... are you saying...? I'm a father...? And you kept this from me!? I'm on the way!"

Understandably upset with your decision to keep it a secret from him but ecstatic you gave him a child

A family...his own little family...oh his heart ♡

Still felt guilty, did you not know how much you mean to him!? How broken he was and how much he loved you!? He would've taken care of your every need and been there the second you told him!

He arrived only minutes after the call and alone (He dipped so quick without telling Barb, oops!)

His son was so tiny in his arms! The baby shifted into demon form!

Teared up because he resembled him so much, same horns and wings!

Kissed and cuddled the heck out of you two

"You two will always come first. You're both my everything. Don't ever doubt that. And...we handle everything together, okay?"

He proposed with the ring he never got to give you 🤧

He moved you guys into the castle the same day and Barb lost his shit but in a good way

He noticed his son was a happy giggly demon but with a biting problem, especially when upset

Barbatos:

You wondered if Barbatos knew but ultimately decided he didn't. After all, he would have said something by now. You felt horrible for keeping the secret but you knew he had a duty of serving Diavolo; which helped run the Devildom. Barbatos would have helped you, you knew in your heart he would. You just didn't want to worry him while on the journey is all. Finally when everything was settled, you give him the call.

"Understood. I will visit shortly."

You didn't see the way his eyes widened at the news but he believed you and was well on his way to you after the call

He felt quite guilty and upset that you did something so grand, all alone

Nevertheless he still loved you and was excited yet nervous to meet his baby

The first thing he did when he saw you was kiss your forehead before holding his son

The baby shifted and he gasped at the miniature him, he was absolutely in love and even shifted into demon form himself

"The two of you mean the entire world to me. I feel our future is very bright. I vow to always love and protect you both."

He had called Dia and Luci to explain his absence

Stayed a few days to bond with you two (he grabbed a Go-Bag before leaving, butlers must always be prepared!)

Later moved you two into the castle to a very excited uncle Dia

He noticed his son was particular about his milk

Simeon:

You really struggled with the decision of letting him know. You were scared of the consequences he would face. You decided to keep it a secret as much as possible but one day he requested a video call when regular calls weren't enough anymore. You looked very much the same and everything was going great and that's when his daughter started crying in the background. Simeons' heard the cries before in past calls and to his knowledge you babysat frequently.  He understood you had to go check. You didn't realize he could see the baby when you picked her up, you thought your back kept her hidden from view. He immediately knew. There was no doubt that was his baby girl. He questioned you about her and you tried to deny it but ended up confessing. You couldn't lie to him anymore.

"I'll see you two soon."

He was highly upset but thought about it more and knew why you did it

He didn't mean to put you in that position and ended up being more upset in himself

He loved you so much and hoped he could make it up to you

He hoped you could forgive him for not coming sooner but he had something to do first before seeing you two

He found Luke and chatted with him normally; he told him what a great angel he was and offered a bit of wisdom

He hugged the young angel for the last time

"Luke...I'm sorry and I hope you forgive me."

He knew that left Luke confused after such a normal conversation but Simeon couldn't bear to explain everything

After telling Michael what happened and being banished from the celestial realm, he finally made his way to you

Yes he was hurting from the loss but there was no doubt in his mind and he had no regrets overall

When he arrived and held his daughter, she glowed and he teared up

"You're an angel alright, a beautiful one."

You cried for him and he reassured you that everything will be fine, he was excited for his new family and he had no regrets

"I would do it all over again, and again, and again.♡"

He noticed his daughter loves falling asleep to his stories

Solomon:

You didn't keep it a secret from him actually. There wasn't really a reason to nor would you be able to hide it from him in the human realm.

"Me? A father?"

Was shocked for a few days, he never thought he'd see the day that would happen

He was happy for the two of you of course but it all seemed surreal

Was supportive throughout the pregnancy and tried to find ways to make it easier for you

He tried cooking more and you begged him not to

He nearly fainted at the news of twin girls

On the due date;  all the books he read didn't seem like enough preparation

He teared up when you crushed his hand during labor

Oh he was in love when he heard the cries and even more when he saw they looked just like him

"You girls are going to run this world!" "Solomon."

"Right. WE'RE going to run this world."

Published a book called Dad Jokes Through the Centuries

Solomon: Family Man Extraordinaire ™️

He noticed his daughters seemed drawn towards his magical objects than their own toys

Also:

⬦You might also like: MC Feeling Insecure

[xoxoavenger]

Hey! Since you’re taking requests, can I request a sort of part two (not necessarily it could jsut be a stand alone) to Days of Future Past where what if younger Charles had a wife in the 70s where reader decides to break it off with Charlie’s casue the love she had for him begun to slowly dwindle because of all the events that happened in the last fic. And while she does care for him as the father of her son and fully expects him to still be in his sons life, she can’t be with him anymore since it’s to much

Broken

pairing: Charles Xavier x Fem!Reader

word count: 739

warnings: angst, no comfort

notes: Days Of Future Past was posted a year ago for my birthday celebration, so it's only fitting that I post the long awaited part 2 for another birthday celebration 🥰

Days Of Future Past (part 1)

birthday celebration main masterlist

The thing about change is that it doesn't happen overnight.

When Logan went back to his own time, Y/N never expected Charles to go back to normal immediately. She knew it would be an uphill battle. But she was pregnant and tired of waiting.

"You're joking." Charles says. They're in his study, Y/N standing even though she is due in a week. They haven't had any conversations that aren't about their son since Logan came, and they need to have this conversation before there's a baby taking up all their time. When she brought up her decision, he didn't seem to like it.

"I know you're on cocaine." She says point blank. She's known for awhile, but it's finally time to force him to get his shit together.

"If you're going to leave me, you might as well go before our son comes." He doesn't think she'll actually do it. He goes back to his work, sitting behind his desk as if she'll huff and walk out. But His words just make her more sure in her decision. She takes a deep breath and looks over at him.

"Charles. I am leaving you. We're not arguing about that right now. What we're talking about is if you're going to be in our son's life or not." She can tell this makes Charles mad, but she has to think of herself and her son. She can't stay with Charles, not when he continuously puts her through tough times. She doesn't know how she's even gotten through this pregnancy when all he's done is get high or drunk and act like she wasn't pregnant for six months.

"What the fuck?" Charles blinks, looking up slowly. "You can't just leave as we're about to have a kid!" His argument infuriates her.

"I'm not in love with you anymore!" She screams, the room going completely quiet. They stare at each other, both hurting.

"What does that mean?" He whispers, and she almost wants to take it back. She can't though, because it's the truth.

"I'll always love you, Charles." She tells him, walking closer slowly. "But after what you put me through, I'm not in love with you."

"I need you." He tells her, reaching out when she gets close enough and grabbing her hand. "I can't get through life without you."

"I'll be here." She assures, moving his hand to her protruding stomach. "There will be a piece of us in this world soon, and I would go through everything again for him. But you and I cannot work together. At least not now." Tears begin to fall from Charles' eyes.

"I can quit." He mutters, and she nods.

"I know you can. And you're going to for our son." She moves to sit on his desk. He puts his head against her stomach, tears soaking her shirt.

"I need you." He repeats, and she just shakes her head.

"Our son needs you." She cards her hands through his hair. "Maybe in another time, we can be together, but you've put me through too much."

"I'm sorry." He finally whispers, and she nods, trying not to cry. "I love you so much."

"I know you do." She tells him. A part of her feels bad. She knows he's trying. But it's too little too late, and she can't sacrifice any more of herself.

"I can change." He promises.

"Charles," She pulls away from him, looking down. "I know you can change. But I can't wait for it. I can't keep giving up pieces of myself to fix you." She feels the need to kiss him, for the comfort and the repetitiveness. But it'll only hurt worse.

"I don't need to be fixed. I just need time." He begs, and it's the same thing Y/N has heard over and over.

"I don't have time to give you." She tells him truthfully, moving away from him now. "Our baby will be brilliant. He will have two loving parents. But they will not be together. For their sake and his."

"Y/N," He starts, but he doesn't have anything left to say. He has nothing left to beg with.

"I love and care for you." She whispers. "But I am not in love with you. You have taken things from me that you cannot give back. Broken things you can't repair. And I can't forgive you for that."

She walks out without looking back, going to move her stuff out of their room. 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @thefandomplace  @mcueveryday @icequeen1371 @kenzi-woycehoski @multifandom-boss-bitch

[beauty-and-passion]

TBOB PART 2: OF FLATLAND, EXWHYLIA AND EUCLYDIA (3/4)

Hello, everyone, welcome once again to another post about Bill’s dimension. One day this analysis will end, I promise. But today is not that day: today is the day we will talk about Bill’s family.

And oh boy if there’s a lot to talk about.

Please check all previous posts to understand this one (and the masterlist too!).

<- Previous post - Masterlist

_______________________________

PART 4: OF BILL’S FAMILY

“If you think Stan’s relationship with his family is bad, Bill’s is worse” - Alex Hirsch, NYCC 2015

_______________________________

Loved and ostracized

Everyone loved me immediately and the mayor dubbed me the “best baby of all time”, made my birthday a holiday and gave out free knives. (...) Truth is I’ve always been loved and admired by all!

Of course Bill starts telling his story with a huge. Fucking. Lie.

How can I be so sure? First of all, the hyperbolic way in which he talks about his birth as if it’s the second coming of Christ. Then, all the previous points of this endless analysis.

Considering everything we have until now, I find it very difficult that Bill’s birth was celebrated by everyone. Surely his family celebrated it - if his society is similar to Flatland’s, having a regular son would’ve been enough to make them very happy.

But also… he’s just an Equilateral. And if his world has social classes based on the number of sides, then he’s from a middle class. I doubt the birth of another Equilateral was a reason big enough for huge celebrations.

Also, let’s not forget what Bill himself said in the TBOB: you should make a new reality and a meaning for yourself. Well, what if this is the reality he made? A place where he was immediately loved and admired by everyone?

_______________________________

Scalene and Euclid

Sooo… those are the names of Bill’s parents.

Honestly? They’re interesting. Even if I’m a bit weirded out by Scalene: in the only image we have of Bill’s parents (the grayed-out triangles on thisisnotawebsitedotcom) neither of them looks like a scalene triangle. On the contrary, they both look equilateral.

It’s a bit strange, you know? As if a person has “Neanderthal” as their first name. “Neanderthal Smith” or similar. Sounds strange, doesn’t it?

While speaking of Euclid, I think it’s a nice name. It’s the same name as the dimension they lived in and no, it’s not as weird as it seems: in our world, some people have the same name as the country they’re from, so it’s not so weird.

But hey, the most important thing is that we canonically have the names of Bill’s parents! We know he had parents and we know details of his relationship with them!

And this raises A LOT of questions.

Let’s start with his mother: we know she loved him, at least a little bit. She sang him lullabies and told him she loved him, despite his strange eye. So we can be sure at least one of his parents didn’t mind his deformity so much.

Also, this part in TBOB after Bill and Ford's breakdown, in which a very, very drunk Bill talks to his mom:

“I’m gonna be back from school soon, don’t forget to cut out the crust off my sandwiches or I’ll —”

I don’t know you, but to me, this sounds like the threat of a spoiled child. Something like “cut the crust off or I’ll throw a tantrum”. And yes, this implies Bill was a spoiled child - or at least, a child who considered himself above others, mother included. So yes, I can imagine him throwing a tantrum at his mother for something stupid like some crust on his sandwiches.

But again, even more questions! How was his mother towards him? Was she submissive? Was she combative? Was she ready to answer to every little whim of her son like a Flatlander Woman or did she ask for some respect? Considering how bratty Bill is, I'm more prone to believe she was very lenient towards him.

While speaking of his father, I find it very fascinating that we know absolutely nothing about Bill’s relationship with his father. We know his mother loved him (maybe to the point of spoiling him too much)… but his father? Did he care about Bill? I suppose so, considering Bill visited a doctor (unless it was his mother’s decision only, but I doubt it).

And about his job: was he a Tradesman? Bill attended school, but was school supposed to teach him about his future job too? If not, then this was up to his parents, right? Presumably, it was his father’s job to teach Bill how to be a Tradesman, a bit like in the Flatland society. If that’s the case, then why we don’t have any information about this? Why no memory at all? Bill seems to care about his father too - if we assume that the top hat he has was his father’s. So at least he cared enough to keep something of him.

Was his father a bad guy? Was he cruel? Or was he so blinded by society’s rules to torture his son and think he was doing it for his good? In that case, I would understand why he did everything he did - but beware: understanding doesn’t mean accepting. It would be a bit like Filbrick Pines’ situation: I can get the reasoning behind his actions, but that doesn’t make him Father of the Year. Maybe it’s the same for Bill’s father. This wouldn’t be the first parallel between Stanley and Bill, after all.

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An Irregular masquerading as Regular

Time to talk about Bill’s eye.

We can safely assume Bill’s rare mutation was having his eye on the face and not on the side - which, from the Euclideans’ perspective, meant having an eye on his insides.

Now, imagine with me: you have a child and you see that your baby has no eyes. No eyes at all, not even an eye socket. I bet you would freak out, at least a little bit. You would probably send your baby to a doctor and ask if there is something they can do.

The doctor checks the baby and gives you both good and bad news: your child has eyes and they work. But they are inside his body. In his goddamn stomach.

And if all of this isn’t enough, your child starts telling you that sure, he can see a lot of things! He sees things you cannot see - no one else can see.

Now, would you say: “Oh, no problem. He can see things no one can, so he’s fine and his eyes work well”? Or would you probably freak out even more and fear your son is having goddamn visions because he’s probably dying or has a tumor or who knows what?

I can understand why Bill’s parents brought him to a doctor. And I can understand why the doctor thought the best solution was to “blind” that eye. As far as Euclideans know, there are no “stars” and there is no “above”. It’s as if someone in our world says they can see rotating hypercubes in real life. Would you think they’re perfectly fine or question if they’re insane/growing mad/getting very sick?

So yes, even if it's insane for us, from Bill’s parents' POV, giving him medicine to make him blind was for his own good. Does that make them Parents of the Year? Hell no, they were literally blinding their own son, of course it’s terrible and insane and if someone tries to do the same they should be immediately thrown in jail. But for the rules of Euclydia’s world, this was probably the best thing to do.

And personally, I ADORE the tragedy of this. The tragedy of giving something to your son that will permanently blind him, but trying to make it at least bearable - he’s still a child, he doesn’t really understand what he’s drinking, but you think it’s for his own good, your whole world think it's for his own good, so you use something silly that he likes, like straws, because this will make the medicine - the impairment - more tolerable. Uuurgh, it’s so tragic I love it.

And it’s even more tragic, if we consider that even after billions of years, even if he talks about his doctor and the medicine as something bad that wanted to “blind” him, Bill never forgot the straws. He still loves the straws he was using so much, to the point he still gave them a place in his book.

But since there’s always room on the angst train, also think that by making him blind, Billy would’ve probably stopped talking about these visions (at least, according to his parents). And if he stopped, it would’ve been easier for him to fit into society. He would’ve followed the rules and standards. He was a Regular shape after all, so if they took away that hidden-and-yet-so-present pieces of Irregularity he had, he could’ve become a respectable member of their society. One who didn’t go around, talking about weird things no one could see. Things that were against the law.

Again, it’s not me saying this, it’s Bill:

“Technically, talking about a “third” dimension was illegal in my world.”

This makes Bill’s character EVEN MORE fascinating. He could’ve been the Apostle of the Third Dimension. He could’ve spoken to everyone, because he had something of everyone - he could’ve been a bridge between Regulars and Irregulars, because he was both. He could’ve changed his world or died as a martyr.

But in the end, he chose the third option.

And we will talk about it in the next post.

See you soon with the fourth and final post on this part.

Next post ->

(How about a coffee? ☕)

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