#thoughts and prayers for me in february

[starcatching]

SUA ☆ luck inside 7 doors - guilty challenge

[trberman]

February 3–9: “This Is the Spirit of Revelation” Doctrine and Covenants 6–9

Photo by Jasmin Ne on Unsplash Understanding the Spirit of Revelation: Insights from Doctrine and Covenants 6–9 for Personal Guidance and Faith The Spirit of Revelation is a remarkable gift that connects us to divine guidance, offering clarity and peace in a world full of uncertainty. Doctrine and Covenants 6–9 helps us understand how personal revelation works and outlines the steps we can take…

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER EIGHT

08 : PASTRIES

CHPT. SUM. : Alpahard comes for a visit and you help the Belbys run their shop while Damocles focuses on the wolfsbane potion. Everything appears to be going as planned.

LENGTH : 9.7k

TAGS : OG Walburga is a scheming bitch ; Orion is an absent and neglectful father ; Alphard is a good uncle who loves his nephews ; Reader just girl bossing it ; Ruth and Damocles are couple goals ; Reggie finally being happy and very baby

CONTENT WARNING : talks of divorce

A/N : I'm posting this now to give it a week before I post the 9th chapter on February 1st -- you'll have to excuse me if I'm a little late on that update though because I'm currently out of commission from the most horrible cold/flu I've ever had (╥﹏╥) -- please send your thoughts and prayers because I haven't had a peaceful night's sleep the last two days and I swear this impromptu post is also a part of the delirium I'm experiencing

← PREV. 07 : INVESTIGATIONS | SERIES M.LIST

14th September 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

Walburga throws a fit, trapped in the abyss of your mind. She’s furious, seething from your menacing intrusions upon her life and secrets. It was frustrating and annoying beyond belief! The intricate web she had just begun to create was unravelling before her very eyes, and she could do nothing but watch! She had meant to secure a different future with her forming web; impervious to the imminent cycle of life she had witnessed that fateful day months ago. She had made one fatal mistake in all of her meticulous planning and preparation, labouring over an ancient ritual that would guarantee full obedience from her two boys. And, rather than force her mind and ideals over the thoughts and actions of her two sons before their fates began to set permanently, she was being made to fall under the thoughts and actions of another individual, you.

Being forced to watch you take over her shoes has been Walburga’s own personal hell. It’s far more painful knowing that she has no say over what you do. She’s limited to only watching, watching and agonising over her perfect plans being torn to shreds. The love and kindness you were showing her sons was unbecoming, going completely against her values on the way a mother should parent. It’s clear that you know nothing about how to raise two young boys born into the most ancient and noble house.

Walburga’s resentment grows and grows by the day. As a prisoner forced to share her identity and existence with someone who goes against her beliefs, it is unbelievably torturous. She screams ‘NO!’ and ‘STOP!’ at every offending action you take, all of which seem to be the exact opposite of her true self. Openly showing affection? Her sons will only grow clingy and burdensome. Being open to conversations? Growing boys should only speak when spoken to and not dare question the things being told to them for their own good. Cooking without magic? (Cooking at all!) There’s a house elf to fulfil that role. Thinking about your foreign behaviour has anger quickly bubbling up from her stomach. You’re so foolish!

But there was hope…

After every major fainting spell Walburga has induced, your unconscious body has left your thoughts and mind completely silent and open to her reclaim. Dwelling in the dark depths when all is silent, Walburga can feel a ticklish sensation from afar. And it only grows ever palpable after every major blackout. A wicked smirk touches her lips as she reaches forward and feels the wisps of connection between the floating space she was suspended in and the tangibility of the physical world.

One powerful, familiar thought moves her fingers a centimetre. It was small but a big step forward. The solid material she registers at the edges of her nerves -–the feeling of bedsheets atop a solid mattress— was alien in its distance and bizarre for its unfamiliar yet known sensation. It was like returning to something and your brain had yet to recognise the perception as one that was formally commonplace.

However, just as Walburga was wrapping her mind around that singular, grounding feeling, it was suddenly ripped away. Once again, she was surrounded by an empty coldness, suspended in an unfeeling space. Despite the frustration that quickly mounted inside her, it was accompanied by a resolve that plastered itself solidly in her chest, a determination to bide her time and remain patient. She will wreck terror and havoc when times are right and after she’s deteriorated your hold, she’ll regain full control once more.

It will only be a matter of time…

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

You wake up to a familiar scene and sigh sadly. The ringing in your head is a powerful one, an annoyance that makes the sun rays falling through the gaps of the curtains feel like a knife to your eyes. Reaching for your wand, a silent swish fills the gaps, shutting away the sun and reducing the sting in your eyes to something you can easily blink away. The curtains act like a filter for the light outside, partially bringing a soft, green radiance into the room.

At the sight of your youngest curled up against you once again, you lean down and affectionately kiss his crown, “I’m sorry, little love,” although you kept your voice to a quiet whisper, it’s enough to raise Regulus from the warm abyss of slumber. Your little prince sits up and rubs his eyes as you admire his adorable image.

“Good morning, my darling,” you comb his hair back from his tired eyes and lean close with a lowered, soft voice; an intimate moment between mother and son, “did I worry you again?” Regulus nods silently and launches himself into your arms as you apologise over and over.

The night before, Kreacher had been open about another blackout you’d experienced. And, although Regulus was grateful, he was anxious all night long. It never fails to make his heart jump to his throat. He remembers your still—far too still—body laying in bed, in a room entirely separate from his father’s. You look at peace but it wasn’t a comfort; you didn’t appear to simply be asleep, rather, you looked more deathly… he dreads to even think back on such thoughts. He’s only comforted by the sound of your steady heartbeat and soft breaths so he wastes no time in reaching for his blanket and sleeping beside you, close enough to hear the rhythm of your heart and the melody of your breathing.

“A-are you feeling sick?” that wasn’t the real question he wanted to ask, you can see the truth in his pleading, sweet eyes. Are you afflicted by some sort of incurable disease that cannot be stopped?

Regulus closes his eyes to savour the kiss you press into his forehead, “I’m perfectly healthy, my little love. Please don’t worry too much,” you pull away to cup his face tenderly in your hands and thumb over the softness of his cheeks.

“You promise?”

“I promise,” you nuzzle his nose with your own and the tense, fretful atmosphere is washed away by your shared giggles.

Kreacher soon appears with a tray of breakfast and another phial of magenta liquid. You eye the offending potion for a hard second but before you can groan, Kreacher is already lecturing you.

“Mistress must drink! Must must must!” he insists with beseeching eyes, urging the phial into your hands.

“Let me, at least, have some breakfast first, Kreacher,” you try to set aside the phial and reach for the breakfast tray instead while Regulus suppresses a laugh at the scene. He couldn’t believe his mother felt the same way about healing potions as wizarding children and newly appointed witches and wizards did. It was amusing to see a reflection of childishness in his mother, who had always been so cold and unfeeling.

“No!” Kreacher pulls the breakfast tray away from you, insistent on having you drink the potion before any food, “Potion first, Mistress!”

“FILTHY ELF! DISOBEYING COMMANDS! I TAUGHT HIM BETTER THAN THIS– LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO MY SERVANT!” Walburga’s shriek makes you wince, and Kreacher takes it as the sign to draw back and apologise for his loudness while Regulus balances comforting you and the spiralling house elf.

“Kreacher is deeply sorry, Mistress…” Kreacher suppresses his guilty thoughts in favour of his mistress’ well-being. Going into another one of his many anxious episodes won’t be helpful to you. “Please drink,” he cups his hands around your own to fold over the phial once more. His large, watery eyes, silently plead for you and lift in relief when you finally agree and down its disgusting contents.

“Thank you, Kreacher,” you smile at the elf who finally sets the breakfast tray on your lap above the covers.

“Mistress is w-w-welcome…” he stretches out the syllables of the unfamiliar word, appearing unsure over its usage but his tense shoulders immediately sag in relief as soon as he sees yours and Regulus’ kind smiles. You had been urging him to use the word for quite some time and are happy to see that he was finally confident enough to begin trying it. Hopefully, after this first try, he’ll be more confident in using it in the future. Sending you a thankful smile, Kreacher handles the empty phial and disappears after wishing you and his young master Regulus a good morning.

“Kreacher looks happy,” Regulus comments absentmindedly before taking a bite of toast. Once again, the two of you are sharing breakfast in bed and you lovingly wipe away stray crumbs from the corners of his smiling lips, “I like him even more when he’s like this!”

Melting from his sweet words and the brightness in his eyes, you nod in agreement, “Me too,”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

Finally out of bed and roaming the house, you notice Orion’s missing jacket from the hallway coat rack and call for Kreacher.

“Master Orion asked for his healing potion, Mistress,” Kreacher shuffles his feet and wrings the hem of his shabby clothing between his hands. It appears that he too is uncomfortable with Orion’s reappearance, although, you suppose your husband had suffered long enough. Calculating the time in your head, you resist the urge to sigh sadly. Three days. The poor fool. You hoped he would have lasted longer than that but you suppose it was fun to see him suffer while it lasted. It was karma working its best under the hand of a spiteful wife.

“I see…” you patiently search for the house elf’s eyes before asking the important question, ”Did he say ‘please’?”

After a pause, Kreacher finally nods, “Eventually, yes, Mistress,” Kreacher looks unsure, probably remembering the tense exchange he had with the patriarch, however, it’s soon swept away by your smile and gentle pat against his bald and wrinkled head.

“Well done, Kreacher,” the house elf’s ears wiggle in glee and you see a shy smile creeping up from under his long nose.

18th September 1971 | Muggle London

“You’re excited,” you giggle at the sight of your youngest practically skipping along beside you.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen Uncle Alphard. Sirius and I always love it when he comes over,” you smile at his response, happy to know that there was an adult figure he and Sirius felt safe around; Walburga and Orion were definitely not a safe place for themdespite being their parents. “I’m happy you two aren’t fighting anymore,” although Regulus beams up at you, you couldn’t muster an equally bright smile in return. What did that mean? You were positive that Alphard only got into a serious fight with Walburga when he supported Sirius running away at 16. Perhaps this was a lead-up to that?

“Me too, dear…” For the moment, you keep your questions to yourself. The books and movies kept the relationship between the Black family rather vague so you’ll pick up the clues along the way. For now, it’s better to focus on your darling son and the precious memories you’ll make despite the modest outing to the French bakery. “What do you think we should have for afternoon tea with your uncle? Hm? I’m thinking of English breakfast,”

“That sounds great, mother!”

“And for snacks? What would you like to have on the menu?”

“Butter scones with clotted cream and strawberry jam,”

“Of course, a classic. Anything else?”

“Chouquettes, Macarons, Eclairs, Madeleines, Mille Feuille, Profiteroles!” all French baked goods.

“Goodness,” you exaggerate your reaction and smile at the light giggles it draws from Regulus, “All of our teeth will be falling out by the end. How about we include some finger sandwiches too? We can buy fresh bread and assemble them at home,”

“No crusts?” Regulus asks without hesitation and your heart warms; you love knowing he feels safe and secure enough with you to speak freely.

“It’s the only time crusts are not allowed,” you wink and silently awe at how his beaming smile seems to get even wider. Many depictions of Regulus made him a stoic and cold character but seeing his bright disposition and childish mannerisms was a delight. You prefer him like this. And you want to keep him this way forever, such a motherly sentiment. All you have to do is make sure he doesn't feel forced to abide by the toxic pureblood family rules and beliefs. Instead, you will gently nurture his interests, gently guide him whenever he feels lost and make sure he always feels supported. And you will do the same for Sirius.

Happy and content, the two of you walk into a lovely French bakery with high spirits. The warm atmosphere and welcoming fragrance of freshly baked goods leave you both enraptured and salivating at the mouth – it was hard to resist not getting a bit of everything. Together, you pick out the best-looking pastries to box up before selecting a loaf to be pre-cut and packaged for your convenience. The bakery staff were very helpful and were more than happy to oblige with every request. They also lovingly cooed over Regulus, who partially hid behind your long skirt, though this only seemed to make them all the more awed by him. His softly spoken gratitude was what had pushed them over the edge, and you could only laugh as they offered an extra macaron for him. Regulus was a very sweet boy and looked very much like a prince, so you didn’t blame them for their swooning.

“They liked me, Mother,” Regulus shyly addresses as you make your way home. He holds the wrapped-up, pre-cut loaf under one arm as his other holds onto your spare. As a gentleman, he insisted on carrying both the boxed pastries and loaf but you argued against it, insisting on wanting to hold his hand; the equally shared burden was your compromise. You think it was the best option, really — the best of both worlds.

“As they should, my baby has all the irresistible charms,” your open praise makes him shy into the folds of your skirt once more and you suppress an adoring coo.

“You really think so, Mother?”

“I know so, little love. I’m confident in this for your brother too,” you fake an exasperated sigh, “I’m going to have my hands full in the future. You two are going to be such heartbreakers, I’ll have girls constantly knocking on my door with tears in their eyes,”

Regulus giggles as he looks up from your waist, eyes sparkling from your playful antics, “I won’t do that to you Mother, I promise,”

“But it’s not about intention, you see,” you eye him with a kind smile, “when someone falls in love, they fall in love, there’s no saying ‘no’ to it. And with two very handsome, exceptional sons, well…” you let his thoughts silently complete the rest of your sentence and resist reacting to the adorable pout that forms on his lips.

“I’m very sorry, in advance, Mother,” his sincerity draws out a laugh but you’re filled with pride, regardless. Honesty is a great trait to have.

“That’s very sweet of you, thank you, darling,”

In anticipation of Alphard’s arrival, you and Regulus help Kreacher make finger sandwiches and brew the tea. The closer the time ticks to two in the afternoon, you ask Regulus to help you prep the tiered dish rack while Kreacher dresses the teapot with a tea cosy. By the time Alphard arrives via floo network, the reception room is already well prepared, clean and proudly displaying a delicious tea spread.

“Uncle Alphard!” Regulus cheers and launches himself at the square-jawed man who steps out of the green blaze, exiting your fireplace. He is smartly dressed in a black three-piece suit and polished oxford shoes. His hair is gelled back in a flattering style of frame for his handsome face — straight nose, shapely lips, piercing eyes and level brows. It makes you wonder if he was dressed in his work attire or not. Tea should be a comfortable occasion, especially when hosted by family, for family. What did he even work as?... You hardly know anything about the man, so you have to keep yourself alert to any potential hiccups you may accidentally let slip. You’re supposed to be his elder sister, after all, you should know more about him than his name.

“Good afternoon, Regulus,” Alphard grins at his nephew after visibly shaking off his shock. Never before had he seen his youngest nephew so high-spirited. Their greetings were also usually much more formal than this, distant and dispassionate. This type of behaviour was strongly discouraged by his sister, so the sudden change was rather suspicious. Alphard, however, wanted to believe in Regulus’ sincerity for the sake of such a sweet boy. He instinctively looks around for Sirius but remembers all too quickly that the eleven-year-old was in Hogwarts for his first year, hence the primary topic of his arrival.

“Welcome, younger brother,” you smile warmly at him, ignoring the look of surprise that he doesn’t attempt to cover up. At least he manages to dip his head in a hesitant nod of acknowledgement, “Let's head to the reception then shall we? Orion won’t be joining us, I’m afraid,” you don’t see it but Alphard releases a muted sigh of relief, easily veiling his real emotions by smiling warmly at Regulus, who walks close beside him.

All furniture that occupies the reception room stylistically matches one another. They’re all made of dark walnut wood, embellished with elegant silver accents and dark green leather. The central table has a dark leather sofa on one side and two grandfather chairs with swirling arms on the other. There’s a decorative fireplace on one side of the room with a drab oil painting hanging above the mantle and the only light source is from the open window, occupying the far right wall upon entering.

“Can I sit next to Uncle, Mother?” Regulus politely asks, not wanting to separate from his uncle but also not wanting to make you feel excluded.

“You can sit wherever you wish, little love,” you smile softly, sitting in an armchair and watching as Regulus eagerly pulls Alphard to sit on the sofa with him. Your youngest is already chatting his uncle’s ear off about the snacks featured on the tiered dish rack. This then led him to talk about your morning visit to the bakery, where he had charmed the staff to offer an extra macaron.

They ‘really liked him’ and now his ‘mother is very worried’, why? Because he’ll ‘become a heartbreaker one day’. Alphard listened intently, still shocked but eager to listen to his nephew who he had never seen so bright and secure. Every few seconds, however, Alphard would look towards you for signs of any rising anger or frustration, compounding into an explosive outburst. He was familiar with that. He was familiar with your disapproval. However, there wasn’t a single trace of any negative emotion on your countenance. Rather, your eyes were full of affection and warmth, directed at Regulus while sipping your tea, silently listening to their exchange. Never before had he seen his eldest sister look so… content.

Pausing for breath, Regulus finally remembers the occasion and flushes adorably. His face is much rounder, healthier looking, Alphard notices and is shocked when you allow him to have a small plate to pile on his share of the delicious selection of goodies on the tiered dish. The majority of which were rather sweet to taste. He didn’t know his sister to be one who encouraged the regular consumption of sugar because you would only allow it for special occasions such as Yule and birthdays. Not wanting to startle his nephew, however, Alphard bites his tongue and distracts his racing thoughts by pouring his tea.

“Milk and sugar?” Alphard asks, bewildered at the options freely offered on the coffee table. You had long forbidden milk and sugar to be part of afternoon tea after finding how his tastes had affected your two sons’ preferences.

“Of course,” you voice as if he had been crazy to question you, “everyone is free to make their tea however they wish,”

Alphard follows Regulus’ lead and freely makes his tea… just the way he likes it. With lots of sugar and lots of milk. If you were going to test him, he was going to test you right back and readily anticipate your outward, shrieking protests. However, there were no shrill screeches or ear-splitting lectures over how muted, milky and sugary he liked to have his tea. Rather, Alphard, heard you giggle. His older sister. Giggling? The world must be coming to a terrifying end! Slack-jawed he looks up and stares wide-eyed at your cheerful smile.

“I see you and Regulus have similar preferences in tea,” Alphard shares a sheepish look with his nephew, “How refreshing. It makes me wonder how good it must taste for the both of you to enjoy tea the way you do,” another giggle.

Regulus happily offers his cup, “You can try some of mine if you want, Mother,” Smiling at his nephew’s kindness, Alphard is even more awed by your drastic change in behaviour.

“That’s very sweet of you, little love, thank you. But, how’s about I finish my cup first and I’ll see about having a sip of yours if you have any left?”

“Alright!”

The happy atmosphere wasn’t something Alphard was used to, especially not from his older sister. However, he was grateful for his nephew’s happy disposition. His sister’s strict education and harsh manner of child-rearing left plenty of room for worry but, no matter what seems to have changed, provided that his nephews stay happy and safe, Alphard would happily keep his many questions to himself. Perhaps this was maternal instincts finally taking over. He dare not interrupt by drawing attention to it.

When there’s a lull in the conversation and everyone takes a sip of their tea or a bite of their selected treat, you begin to investigate the relationship between the original Walburga and Alphard. You weren’t impervious to Alphard’s shocked expressions in your periphery; admittedly, it was admirable of him not to make a scene out of his staggering surprise at your ‘odd’ behaviour. It’s fair for him to believe you’re still his original, bigoted sister. You can only speculate that he wasn’t drawing attention for Regulus’ sake and you admire him for that.

“Alphard,” he hums in acknowledgement, setting down his cup and reaching for a madeleine, “how is your work?” your question makes him visibly freeze up but the moment he realises Regulus is watching, he smoothly eases back into normal, less robotic motions.

“It’s been well,” you can tell he wants to leave it at that, satisfied to leave the topic there. However, you were not and kept silent, quietly pushing him into answering further, “...the office has been operating normally. My client is dealing with a relatively common case of discrimination based on pregnancy at the workplace,” he’s a solicitor then. And practising mostly in employment law, it seems. “And before you say anything about women needing to better plan their pregnancies and how a woman needs to be at home with her husband rather than working, I want to remind you of the company,” his voice is firm and he’s plainly referring to Regulus being present, therefore dubbing the subject matter sensitive. However, his insinuations on the original Walburga’s dogmatist beliefs make you visibly disgusted and it pulls on his interest. Never had he seen his sister look so abhorrent to the views he knew she supported.

“I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort. I appreciate that you’re doing good work for the people who need it—”

“Even for a half Veela?”

“Everyone deserves to be fairly represented in a court of law, dear brother. And please don’t interrupt me again, Regulus should find quality, male influence in his uncle, please demonstrate the appropriate, good manners for him,” Alphard is surprised by your sharp eyes and firm demand. You had always been demanding but never to this degree, never to such a reasonable degree, and never without raising your voice. Yet, your voice has remained level, only adjusting for firmness.

How odd… Alphard doesn’t know whether to laugh mockingly at your hypocrisy or dare to feel hope for the positive change he’s beginning to see in his sister.

“...I apologise,” Alphard nods to you before turning to Regulus, “I didn’t set a good example Reg, I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay Uncle,” Regulus beams up at him, happy to be referred to by the affectionate nickname his uncle hadn’t been able to call him in many months.

“Why not ‘Reggie’?”

“I’m sorry?” Alphard looks genuinely perplexed by the change in behaviour. You had always strongly reprimanded him for daring to call your sons by any affectionate nicknames as you wanted your boys to stay faithful to their full birth name — it was a source of pride, after all. To be named after the stars and be in the most ancient and noble house, their names were sacred and it was a mockery to shorten despite it being done with affection. But now you were supporting it?

“‘Reggie’ is a cuter nickname,”

“Reg is good— cute enough, it’s short and sweet,”

“But Reggie is cuter than Reg,”

“Both are cute,”

“...Reggie is cuter, though,”

“Let’s agree to disagree. I will keep calling him Reg and you call him Reggie,” the boy in question was a healthy shade of red now. For a lighthearted argument to centre around him like this wasn’t what he anticipated happening but he was happy to see his mother and uncle getting along harmoniously. Not once have they raised their voices or forced the other to leave the room in a huff. This was nice… Sirius would have really liked this. Maybe Regulus should send another letter, even if his brother has yet to reply to his previous one.

“What nickname do you call Sirius?” you ask, voice soft and eager to continue the topic of your sons. This was another new side Alphard was seeing to you, his usually cold and unfeeling sister had never been one to perpetuate gossip surrounding her sons, and yet, now you were so eager to— and on a topic that is so innocuous and unproductive. But it was a good change, one that he’s sure will be a good influence on his beloved nephews.

“Siri,”

“That’s perfect,” you smile into the lip of your teacup and sip, “we can agree on that front,” Alphard actually manages to chuckle and nod along. He had prepared himself for a harsh and loud argument, not this but he dare not complain; this was a very pleasant surprise. He even dares to feel confident in re-addressing a long taboo topic.

“...You feel I do good work as an employment lawyer?” he begins, hesitant, his hands beginning to shake. The suddenly nervous man opts to set his cup down and wipe the sweat from his hands along his trouser-covered thighs.

“Of course,” you wonder where the conversation is going.

“And what of my extracurriculars too?” he avoids your eyes and your mind flashes with a memory of a young Alphard nervously standing before his elder sister, his small hands curled into fists on his knee-length shorts. This man is your younger brother now. However, you can’t help but think that Walburga cared deeply for him despite their strained relationship, judging from the fond memory that had flashed behind your blinking eyelids. In the depths of your mind, you imagine she still likens him to his much younger, toddler self, an endearing but common trait in an older sister.

“Extracurriculars?”

“My voluntary work with the less fortunate, typically with other magical beings,”

You frown when you finally realise what had caused the strain between brother and sister. Walburga had belittled and strongly protested against a man who only did good. A man of justice. This was the man who favoured Sirius in the original timeline because they shared the same sense of justice and the need to rebel against their bigoted family.

“I’m sorry Alphard,” you look into his eyes with such sincerity that Alphard feels as though he could cry. He had grown up admiring his sister but the instant he had begun to think for himself and see the unfairness of her skewed views, he swears he had felt his first ever heartbreak. His sister, who he had loved and admired so much, who he thought of as an amazing person was not who he thought she was and the revelation was earth-shattering. It broke his heart all the more when he saw his younger brother Cygnus follow in her footsteps. “I’m sorry for all the past unsavoury comments I said to you about your profession, and on what you have chosen to do with your life and beliefs. I was wrong, the way I thought of the world was wrong. I’m truly sorry for who I was before. And I want to assure you that I am no longer that person. I think what you’re doing is truly wonderful and this world needs more people like you in it. My boys need a good uncle like you to help raise them with good values and sense for the world,”

Alphard looks at Regulus, eyes wide with shock, his mind reeling and needing something to ground him, to confirm that the shock he was feeling was reasonable, but to hope for the best and to trust in his sister’s words again was feeling too much at that moment. All he needed was Regulus’ reassuring smile, and that was exactly what his young nephew faced him with, as if to say ‘It’s alright uncle, you can rest assured now,’.

“Why….” Alphard slowly turns his attention back to you, “why did you change your mind?”

You smile to yourself, “For my sons, of course. They deserve the world, the least I can do is be a good mother to them,

“You’re the best mother in the world!” Regulus protests as your eyes humbly close.

“Let’s not lie to ourselves and completely forget what has happened. I have hurt many people with the way I used to act, for believing in the things I used to believe. What’s worse is that I have hurt those most dear to me and those who I should have taken better care of… I’m very sorry Alphard, I don’t think I’ll be able to express how truly apologetic I am. It wasn’t right of me to hurt you that way,”

Blinking back tears, Alphard musters a crooked smile, his voice slightly shaky but his heart light and chest warm, “Apology accepted, dear sister,”

“You said you wanted to talk about something important, little brother?” you wanted to move on from the topic, but Alphard no longer knew if he had the right to express his worry. After witnessing your change in demeanour first-hand, the weight on his shoulders was finally lifted, and his chest didn’t feel so heavy.

“...after the sorting ceremony, I was worried about Sirius and Regulus – they are my nephews, after all. I wasn’t confident in their safe treatment at home,” Regulus looks to his uncle with an appreciative smile, earning an affectionate ruffle of his hair.

Smiling softly, you take his implicit criticism with grace. It wasn’t even your doing but you move forward with it anyway, “thank you for worrying about them but, as I said, I am a changed woman,”

Alphard smiles into his teacup and hums in contentment, “I can see that… I’m glad – you’re also no longer against my profession and my extracurriculars. The moment you accepted my request to come over for tea, I was somewhat relieved but getting to see your change myself was even more of a relief,”

“I’m sorry again, for the past. I don’t know what on earth was the matter with me,” your slight jab at the original Walburga has the witch throwing a muted tantrum in the back of your mind. It’s quite hard to resist smiling wickedly at how easy it is to rile her up.

“No matter…the past is in the past,” Regulus nods and readily agrees.

“I’m really happy Sirius got into Gryffindor. In his letters, he says how happy and at home he feels there,” Regulus’ eyes shine with such pride, it was easy to smile with him. Alphard is comforted by the thought of his eldest nephew having a good start away from home and, atop that, being supported by his mother and brother. He holds no hope for Orion however, many of those in the family have heard of his inappropriate behaviour at Hogwarts. It was unbecoming from the patriarch of the most ancient and noble house. That was why many assumed why he had not made any public appearances at the Wizengamot for a few days, using sickness as an excuse in his letters to the office.

“Which Hogwarts house would you like to join, Reg?” Alphard asks, curious. Judging from your displays of changed temperament and child-rearing, he assumes and hopes his youngest nephew no longer admires the idea of going to Slytherin as he’s known his sister and Orion to have ceaselessly enforced onto the two.

Growing shy, Regulus looks to his lap and picks at his fingernails nervously, “I don’t know… as long as I’m happy and feel at home, that’s all that matters, right, Mother?” Regulus looks to you for assurance and smiles when you nod with fondness in your eyes. A slight tension leaves Regulus’ small shoulders immediately and he settles back into the sofa with a silent sigh of repose, Alphard following closely behind his nephew. What a relief.

The interactions and conversations with you have been quite a shock but in the most pleasant sense. Alphard no longer felt his fingers tensing at the thought of writing a letter to his eldest nephew. They had already exchanged some letters and Alphard was concerned that the assurance within Sirius’ written words was nothing but something to cover up the tensions at home from his sorting ceremony. What a relief to know that it was all true. Sirius did feel happy, he did feel supported and he did miss home. If Alphard’s own mother acted the way you did, with soft affection, fond eyes and a warm touch, he would miss home too.

Light conversation and the peaceful atmosphere continued until Regulus had to do his scheduled piano practice. Regulus politely excused himself while Alphard stared in wide-eyed confusion and awe as another miracle played out before him: you showing open affection for your son by kissing his forehead in front of company before he promptly left for his piano. A silence draws out as you wait for the distant sounds of piano playing to continue your conversation. This time, however, you aim to finally put your central plan into action, one that you were finally seeing the answers to when Alphard revealed his profession.

“What do you specialise in as a solicitor again?” you begin.

“Employment law, sometimes corporate and civil law too,” Alphard states nonchalantly, closely examining your face, his heart beating faster at the implications of your lack of a strong reaction. He supported the change in you but you can tell that he has yet to fully believe in the dream world that was playing out before him.

At the sudden look of worry on your features, Alphard leans forward with concern, “What’s wrong?"

Sighing heavily, you set down your teacup and lean back, "Do you know anyone working in Family law?”

“Naturally…” he answers, his silence carrying a question as he stares at you with a raised brow.

“I want a marital separation from Orion… and I want to take the kids – it’s not safe for them here with him around,”

Alphard nods and immediately begins to hatch a plan. It was a natural mode of work he had refined throughout his years as a solicitor, “I don’t blame you for wanting to leave…and I think I may know of someone who you can talk to. They’re a half-blood specialising in family law, who actively pushes for similar laws being passed for muggles to be transitioned into the wizarding world,”

That sounded like the perfect lawyer for you, “I would really appreciate that Al, thank you,” you say the nickname without thinking and are ready to rush out an apology but stop in surprise when you see the warm smile on Alphard’s face.

“You haven’t called me Al in years… you must really want to leave your husband,” he teases, trying to distract from his choked-up voice and tear-filled eyes. You laugh airily and nod as he joins, the happy atmosphere contagious between you. This was the type of relationship Alphard had always wanted with his sister. It was a shame that it only came about now when you’re actively experiencing rough times at home with Orion.

Before leaving, Alphard goes to Regulus, momentarily interrupting his piano practice to say goodbye. His youngest nephew insists on escorting him to the fireplace with you to properly wave him off and he doesn’t protest. That was the first time Regulus had ever seen his mother and uncle wave goodbye happily, sharing a warm smile and promising to see each other again soon.

This would definitely be worth writing another letter to Sirius.

6th October 1971 | Belby’s Potions and Ingredients

“Thank you again for helping out my husband and me,” Ruth smiles softly at you, setting aside her embroidery momentarily, not wanting to draw too much attention to her weak, shaking hands.

“It’s not a problem at all,” you look over to where Regulus’ legs were sticking out from where he sat examining some bottled potions, unable to help your smile as you and Ruth sat behind the counter together, “I’m only sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I’m afraid I can’t trust Regulus to be home alone even with his tutor Peony as a deterrent,” Ruth’s brows furrow at the implication of your words and reaches for your hand as a silent comfort. It isn’t the right time to pry into your home life, Regulus was such a happy child and she knows it’s all because of you; you’re doing your best to protect him as a mother should and that was good enough to you it seemed. In the meantime, she’s satisfied with offering a quiet consolation.

“You’re doing more than enough,” the two of you share a small, knowing smile and you thank the gods for Ruth’s kind and gentle disposition. It’s been rather lonely despite you having the best sons to look after. You’ve often found yourself aching for a friendship and you’re confident you’ve found one in Ruth.

“Thank you, Ruth,”The shop bell rings as a customer strolls in and greets you at the counter, “Good afternoon, do you happen to have any dried nettles?” you greet the man kindly and readily offer your help.

“You can find them in the second aisle down and can have your pick between whole leaves or the powdered sort,” you helpfully offer your guidance while Ruth returns to her embroidery.

The man thinks to himself for a moment, “Which would be more effective for umm…curing boils?” he looks rather bashful at the confession but you provide no judgment. Thinking for a moment and giving Damocles’ simplified shop notes a look through, you finally give the anxious man his answer.

“Both are equally effective. Only the crushed nettles mean for a quicker brewing time as they will turn the potion green much quicker,” the man nods along to your suggestions, eyes slightly shifty, probably eager to brew his boil curing potion at home, “Or you can purchase the potion itself, and save yourself the trouble,” a relieved laugh escapes the man.

“I’ll go for that then!”

“You’ll find the potion on the back wall, it should be blue,” he nods eagerly and thanks you before rushing to the back wall of the shop.

“Goodness, you’re a natural potions shopkeeper,” Ruth giggles beside you, her eyes tired but full of life.

“Why thank you, madam,” you bow at the waist exaggeratedly and grin, “I’ve actually been reading up on some potion books so that I can be of some help for Damocles,” Ruth tucks her chin in and bashfully avoids your eyes.

“It’s so very kind of you to help someone like me,”

“None of that,” you tut and hold her hand in the same comforting way she had held yours mere moments ago, “You are not allowed to refer to yourself in such a way, you hear?” Ruth is hesitant but nods anyway. You guess it’s her attempt at not causing a fuss but you’ll accept it.

The man returns with the boil curing potion at hand and the purchase is done smoothly. You have to hand it to the glamour you placed on yourself; without it, you’re sure many customers would leave without so much as taking more than two steps in the door — you wouldn’t have been any help to the Belbys at all. Wanting to protect Regulus’ identity as well, you’ve also fixed him with a glamour too and ensured you still look like mother and son.

“I see that you’re looking rather well despite it being only one day after the full moon,” you comment, brightening Ruth’s expression with a smile.

“Damocles is incredible!” her eyes sparkle as she talks proudly of her husband’s achievements, “The recent changes he’s made to the potion have made it so that I don’t feel as anxious during my time under so I don’t feel as mentally exhausted atop being physically drained. I think he said something about a stone. A wishing stone?”

You hum and nod in understanding, “the moonstone then,” she confirms with a soft gasp of remembrance, “That’s wonderful news, Damocles must be really happy,”

“Yes, but he is not yet satisfied…” she huffs and scowls, however, her delicate features don’t make the emotion appear quite as menacing on her face; she makes it look rather sweet actually, “I swear that man adores being sleep deprived and overworked. It’s worrying…”

“Maybe that’s his real aim,” you wink at her perplexed appearance, “I’m sure it’s healing to the soul for a man to experience his beautiful wife’s sincere worries for his well being,”

Ruth blushes a deep red and looks away, but you still manage to see the smile playing on her lips, “oh you!” The two of you giggle together as Regulus comes bounding over with a grin on his face, holding up a small sprig of dried lavender that’s tied together at the stems with a rough string.

“Mother, this smells lovely, you should smell it too,” he holds up the lavender and watches eagerly as you lean on the counter to smell it.

“You’re right, it smells very soothing,”

“I want our house to smell like it,”

“Oh? That’s easily done,” you turn to Ruth with a smile, “would it be okay to purchase your entire stock?”

Ruth’s jaw drops, “You want our entire stock? B-But that’s so costly!” if Ruth’s jaw could have dropped any lower, it would have dropped to the floor when you merely shrugged your shoulders. As if buying an entire stock of one ingredient didn’t put a dent on your finances.

“We have a rather big house and Reggie wants our whole house to smell like lavender, so we need everything you have,”

Regulus smiles as you both turn to him, “It really is a very nice smell,” Ruth can’t say no to you both and smiles gratefully. She knows your hidden motive. You were already helping the couple so much but you couldn’t just stop there, you also had to purchase from them too.

“May I, at least, offer a family friend discount?” Ruth barters and watches as you turn to Regulus to ask for his opinion.

“Should we accept, Reggie?” you tilt your head thoughtfully, “Should we accept paying less for this hard-working couple’s labour?” Regulus shakes his head ‘no’.

“That wouldn’t be fair Mother, nor polite,”

“Spoken like a true gentleman,” Regulus beams up at you and Ruth awes at the young boy’s innocence, “How is my son so well mannered?” it was supposed to be a teasing remark but Regulus, accustomed to your teasing now, is quick to reciprocate with his own.

“It's because I have you, Mother!”

“Oh!” you heat up at the cheeks, “I think I’ve taught you some bad habits, Reggie,” Regulus doesn’t deny the statement and laughs with Ruth at your flustered expression.

Once Damocles finally decides to take a break from brewing in the back room and analysing his previous notes, he sits beside Ruth and leans his head against her shoulder. But not before softly kissing her cheek. It was a timely break as no customers came to purchase anything and there was a quiet lull in the shop’s activities. Wanting to give the couple some privacy, you take the time to go on a small mission with Regulus, similar to the bakery run you did for his uncle Alphard. This time, however, those baked goodies will be for Ruth and Damocles. They both deserve some good tea and snacks. You try not to take too long and opt for only a small collection of pastries, some sweet and some savoury as you don’t know their preferences.

“I hear you’re purchasing our entire stock of lavender without our prestigious family-friend discount,” Damocles presses as soon as you and Regulus return, avoiding the temptation of the pastries you had brought back.

“The lavender smells really nice,” Regulus explains, “and I thought it would be good for the house to smell like it,”

“Precisely, Damocles,” you grin when you see the potioneer’s eyes soften at your youngest’s beaming smile. “I only want to fulfil my Reggie’s wishes. And I also agree that the lavender smells lovely,”

“A-at least let us offer the discounted price,“ he’s almost pleading.

“Nonsense,” you huff and cross your arms with slightly narrowed eyes, though not too threatening, “are you saying I can’t afford to pay full price?”

“O-of course not, Lady—”

“Then I’m paying full price and that's final.”

Damocles falls back into the chair you had once occupied as Ruth comfortingly rubs his shoulder, “I told you it was no use arguing, dear,”

“I suppose not…” Damocles looks at you with searching eyes before huffing a laugh and shaking his head. “Alright then, since you’re so insistent,”

“Wonderful! Now, you two need to eat, I’ll brew some tea in the back. Do you like French Earl Grey?” you ask, moving to the backdoor as Damocles lifts Regulus onto the counter.

“We don’t have french earl grey?”

“I bought you some while I was out,” the couple shake their heads in disbelief once more before Regulus pulls away their attention by running through the collection of goodies you’d both purchased. The French early grey you had brewed was a new taste to the couple, but it wasn’t an unpleasant one.

“Is that rose?” Ruth asks with wondrous eyes as Damocles smiles beside her, lovingly admiring her sweet expression.

“Yes, french early grey adds rose petals to the blend. Do you like it?”

“Very much,” Ruth beams and takes another long, savouring sip while Damocles leans over and whispers that it’s one of her favourite essences to have in anything palatable.

“And she loves Turkish delight,”

You can tell that Damocles didn’t want to take a break for too long, his eyes often drifting to his backroom door and his fingers twitching uneasily on his lap. If it weren’t for Ruth, you don’t think he would have allowed himself to finish his tea or his pastry. But thanks to his loving wife, he was willing to reach for a second and third pastry. The entire time, Damocles was drawn all the more to her, often checking her likeness for the pastries she wanted to try in the small spread, even offering her several bites of his own. He also worried often for her health and well being, always being the first to jump in making her feel more comfortable, either by fetching a blanket to keep her fragile frame warm or pillows to keep her posture upright. They’re truly a match made in heaven, you’ve never seen a more compatible pair. And you’re happy Regulus was a witness to it all. Seeing their close bond and equally loving dynamic would help enforce in his mind what healthy relationships look like.

“When you finish your break and before you return to brewing, may I have a word in private with you, Damocles?” you ask, partway through your pleasant tea break.

“Of course,”

As you step aside with Damocles, he’s already launching into an oration of gratitude. There’s clear appreciation in his eyes and stance as well as his words. “I’ve been able to get a hold of ingredients I couldn’t even dream of working with. I can’t even begin to express how life-changing your help is to both me and Ruth, thank you. I actually have some hope that I can manage to pull this off,” he laughs to himself humbly, in disbelief of his own words.

“I have full faith in you, Damocles. I know you can do it, the boundless love you have for your wife will ensure that you succeed,” he blushes slightly at your words but doesn’t deny anything.

“I haven’t been able to send you the updated reports yet, would you like to take the duplicate notes from my lab?”

“I’d appreciate that but I have something I want to talk to you about first,” Damocles nods, reminded of your earlier request and the reasoning behind it, “I just wanted to ask what you plan on doing after you’re successful with the potion,”

His voice goes quiet but his smile is beaming, “You really have that much faith in me?”

“Yes, I do,” your voice is stern as the potioneer’s eyes grow slightly distant, looking over your shoulder where Ruth is happily chatting with Regulus, who remains seated atop the counter still in his glamours, “You’re the only other person who’s believed in me so strongly other than my wife– not even my own family…”

You pat his shoulder comfortingly, “You’re an incredible potioneer and you adore your wife, I know you’ll go through the ends of the earth for her alone, you can make this potion work for her,”

Damocles nods with a grateful smile and finally answers your earlier question, “In all honesty, I haven’t given it much thought… the natural direction I’d go with the potion would be to present my findings to the ministry so that it may be mass-produced and given to werewolves in need of it,”

You’re shaking your head in disagreement before he could even finish his thoughts, “I strongly argue against that,” your words strike confusion in the potioneer. He’s sure his findings would prove helpful to many werewolves and you can see the belief in his eyes but do your best to convince him otherwise. It’s important that he knows where you stand in all this so that you bring him to the same level and see eye to eye on the matter.

“Do you know about the werewolf code of conduct?”

“Yes, of course,”

“It requires registering as a werewolf to the ministry and vowing to never bite any innocents and locking yourself away during every transformation,” you begin to explain, gauging where his knowledge stands.

“I know that,”

“And do you know anyone who happily registered as a werewolf to the ministry?” Damocles can’t answer confidently, rather, he stays silent. “Did Ruth register? Would you like her to?”

“…N-no…” Damocles hated that he couldn’t trust in the ministry but they‘ve proven nothing when it comes to the protection and fair treatment of other magical creatures, especially werewolves.

“I know the plan I want to carry out will only further perpetuate the stigma against werewolves and lycanthropy but the ministry has already proven that they cannot be trusted or relied upon in the matters of lycanthropes. I am, at least, confident in providing some help, do you trust me?”

“I trust you,” his voice doesn’t waver and you smile.

“You’ll be sacrificing a great reward, I’m afraid,”

“How so?”

“Surely discovering a treatment for lycanthropy will grant you an Order of Merlin as a reward…”

“I don’t care, so long as my wife is safe and happy and as long as we can actually help people like her, I’m willing to follow your plan,” as before, his voice doesn’t waver and you’re confident in his words. He’s a good man.

“Then it shall be!” you share a firm handshake. If only Harry had met an adult as capable and reliable as Damocles… you’re sure he wouldn’t require such dependence in the future, however, not in the future you’ll be creating, at least. And you’ll make sure of the same for his parents and all their friends —- all characters you love and wish only the best for. And it’ll all start with your two beautiful sons.

9th October 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

Tucked away in your home office, you look over the notes you’ve made on your current plans, avoiding the pages you’ve filled with notes on the secret parlour only for the Black family ladies’ use. You know it’s something you’ll need to confront very soon, in the meantime, however, you were perfectly occupied by current projects you were hard at work on.

Damocles sent you the report he duplicated from his most recent findings and Ruth’s improved condition following the full moon. Not only was he a loving and dedicated man with a passion for potion making, but he was also brilliant in his report writing. He kept his notes concise and easy to read by providing clear categories of the specific things he wanted to track. From your side of the research, reading up on potions from the Black family library, you had written him a letter back with suggestions on how to make the potion more potent. One such suggestion was his use of the Mandragora, Mandrakes. Rather than mandrake leaves, you encouraged him to use the body of a mandrake instead. It’s a little pricier than just the leaves, but it was nothing you couldn’t afford. The dragon blood was something you were having trouble with, however. It wasn’t cheap, and, having to look ahead at the wolfsbane potion’s mass production, dragon’s blood would be an annoying ingredient to include financially. So you promised to look for alternatives that might be able to give the same effect. You were even willing to look into ‘muggle’ books for a potential alternative.

After securing Damocles’ opinion following the future success of his wolfsbane potion and having some back and forth with Alphard on the family lawyer, he had been easing into setting up a meeting with you; you’ve started looking at properties all over the UK. You have a good idea of what you want to look for. However, the primary, most important criteria for these properties to have were that they don’t belong to the Black family. And so, you neglect the wizarding properties completely and look into muggle properties instead. The price wouldn’t matter, although you wanted to secure a separate line of income first so that Orion remains unsuspecting of your efforts to escape him; you don’t want any additional tensions happening at home, especially with Regulus still here. As soon as Regulus begins to attend Hogwarts, however, you’ll finally put things into action. Until then, you have a little under a year, which you hope will be good enough.

A squeaky pop shifts the air to your right, and Kreacher appears with a tray of tea and biscuits, “Mistress’ tea is ready,” he presents with a smile, wordlessly making the arrangement float up and make a home for itself atop an unoccupied portion of your desk. Smiling at the house elf, you nod in thanks and express your gratitude. Wanting to appease you further, he gestures to his big ears and informs you of an owl that sounds to be arriving very soon. With a nod and a soft word of gratitude, you walk to your window and open it up in anticipation of the delivery.

Sirius’ owl was the first to arrive and you figure it’s a response to one of Regulus’ many letters. Seeing your eldest son’s familiar handwriting addressing the letter to his little brother makes you smile, and urges you to write him one soon as well. Thanking the sweet barn owl, you offer her a perch and kindly ask Kreacher to fetch it some feed as a reward. The second owl that arrives is much smaller and carries a package as well as a letter. The parcel is only small and its wrappings are a buff brown, held together with some twine. The letter is addressed to you and you have a pretty good idea of what it may be.

You give the letter a quick read-through and smile with a nod before opening the small package to reveal a golden band. Its inner face is engraved with runes, and it easily fits onto your pointer finger. Before returning to your desk, you give the small owl a bowl of feed as a reward, too. Seated back at your desk, you pour yourself some tea and take a generous drink with the ring still on your pointer finger.

“Mmmm~” you hum in satisfaction, “tastes like strawberries,” It’s been a few weeks and those two have already made such amazing progress. You expect nothing less from the same two people who were able to enchant Sirius’ protection pin. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to rope in the goblins to craft this ring. It’s only a simple design because it’s the prototype but you plan on making a more decorative line of these to sell. For now, you have yet to test it against an actual potion but you dread to think about waiting for another blackout to do so. With a thoughtful hum, you return to your office and place the letter at the centre of your desk, planning to write a response later on. For now, you’ll deliver Sirius’ letter to Regulus —you’re sure he and Peony won’t mind the interruption and that he’ll be happy to receive Sirius’ response.

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 09 : REPUTATION →

A/N : I'm so sorry, my darlings, for taking so long to update this series (ó﹏ò。) I know I promised monthly updates but with Christmas and then New Year straight after, I was pretty occupied (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝) Nevertheless, I hope you lovelies enjoyed this chapter!ヾ(。✪ω✪。)ｼ I promise there will be more of Sirius in the next chapter since we hardly had any of our baby in this one 

[seospicybin]

SEOSPICY'S UPCOMING FIC.

Preview under the cut!

...

WORSHIP.

I.N x reader. (s,a)

Synopsis: In the quiet halls of the church and the secrecy of the night, boundaries are tested, faith is questioned, and desires threaten to consume both you and Jeongin. Some sins are easy to resist—others, once tasted, become impossible to forget.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

The confession echoes in the empty church, absorbed by the stillness of flickering candlelight. Yang Jeongin kneels before the altar, his fingers curled together in a desperate grip, as if holding himself together.

"I have broken my vow."

The weight of those words settles heavily on his chest. He exhales slowly, but the guilt does not leave him. The silence stretches, pressing in on him, waiting for him to continue. But how does he put it into words?

How does he confess that, despite all his prayers, despite the years of devotion, he let himself want something—someone—he should never have?

Jeongin closes his eyes. Images flood his mind, unbidden and relentless. A voice, teasing yet thoughtful. Fingers brushing over the pages of his manuscript. The way you looked at him—not as a priest, but as a man. Your touch on him, your warmth around him, your heat pressed against him and that sweet, sweet taste of you that flooded his tongue.

Lowering his head, he lets out a slow, unsteady breath and murmurs—

"Lord, have mercy on me."

But mercy does not come. Not in the silence of the church, not in the warmth of the candlelight, not in the steady rhythm of his own heartbeat that refuses to quiet. He waits, as if expecting some sign, some force greater than himself to strip him of this longing, to pull him back from the edge before he falls again.

Nothing comes.

Jeongin forces his eyes open, staring at the altar before him. The crucifix looms overhead, a reminder, a warning—yet all he can think about is how your hands felt gripping the front of his shirt, how they felt against his skin. The way you pleaded so desperately to please him.

Please, please, please.

A shudder courses through him. He grips the rosary tighter, the beads biting into his skin. He should repent. He should beg for forgiveness. He should erase every trace of you from his thoughts before he condemns himself further.

And yet—

And yet, when he closes his eyes again, all he sees is you.

...

WORSHIP will be released this Friday, February 21.

[ayyy-pee]

mmmmokay can i request maybe a hashira!reader x sanemi where during the hashira meeting with lady amane following the swordsmith village arc, reader also takes her leave with tomioka and sanemi is piiiissssed and confronts her about it at her estate afterward (obv angrily). but then eventually she breaks and tells him that she wants to give him the future he deserves, to live happily married together with as many children as he wants (…perhaps… she could already be pregananant?). but she can’t bear the thought of leaving a child orphaned if they both manifest the curse mark (im sure he understands)

thanks love <3 ur my fav btw

hello nonnie!! am i barely answering your October request now in February? yes! somethings don't change sldkfjsdk. i hope you enjoy it because i love sanemi so much and could totally see him itching to kill somebody over you until he gets THE NEWSSS ohhhh. SANEMI CALL ME PLEASEEEE MY PHONE NUMBER IS 1-888-FCK-MEEE!!!

anyway - here it is

Discord 18+ - Twitter

Pairing: Sanemi Shinazugawa x Female Reader

Summary: With the imminent threat of Muzan approaching, the Hashira are given their new assignments. And Sanemi is none too happy about yours.

A/N: nothing crazy going on here tbh. just some jealous lovesick sanemi. i didn't proofread because i'm lazy lmfaooooo

There’s a rage simmering in Sanemi’s chest, hot and threatening to boil over at any moment if he doesn’t find a way to calm down and quickly. Even with anger being Sanemi’s baseline emotion most days, he’s not sure he’s ever felt this incensed in his life. And try as he might, he just can’t seem to quell it.

The root cause shouldn’t be as big of a deal as it is, and yet it feels like it’s the end of the world. Like his world has just shifted and he has no control over what may happen next.

And it’s been this way since the Hashira gathering with the Mast- …Lady Amane, where he’d received probably the worst orders of his life. Since then, it’s taken everything in Sanemi to not blow the roof off of every single building on the estate.

-

“You’ll be dispatched to your assigned territories in pairs,” Lady Amane had spoken earlier in the evening. “This is for not only the protection of Nezuko, but for your own safety. Muzan is likely to go to extreme measures to get to the demon who has now conquered the sun. We have a better chance of success defeating Upper Moons if you are together.”

Sanemi disagreed. He didn’t need to be paired with anyone in order to do his job. He was a Hashira for fucks sake! If anything, they’d just be in his way. Why did he need to be paired with another Hashira on the off chance they ran until an Upper Moon? An insult, but if the Master deemed it necessary, there could be no argument.

“Understood,” Himejima spoke on everyone’s behalf. “Who is to be paired with whom, Lady Amane?”

“Please understand that these pairings are not given based on strength,” the small black-haired child beside Lady Amane began. “Shinobu will remain on estate grounds. Her tasks lie outside of combat.”

From Sanemi’s peripheral, he sees Shinobu nod.

“Himejima will also remain at the estate, tasked with guarding the Master’s quarters.”

The soft rattle of Himejima’s prayer beads sound throughout the space. And Sanemi imagines he must feel honored to be given such a heavy order. He’s jealous, but the idea of an Upper Moon coming from the depths to try and make their way to the Master, only to be met with Sanemi’s blade thrills him in ways he’s can’t explain.

“Now, to the pairings,” the child continues. “Muichiro and Shinazugawa.”

Sanemi and the child prodigy. He supposes he can’t be too upset, though Muichiro wouldn’t have been his preferred choice. The kid is strong, probably stronger than him, though Sanemi will never admit that aloud. No, he’s not mad at this pairing at all.

“Mitsuri and Obanai.”

The two share exchanged looks, Mitsuri red-faced, Obanai slinking further behind his mask if possible. Sanemi tries not to laugh. He’s certain Obanai is reeling from being paired up with the woman of his dreams. Once this meeting is over, he’ll have to give him all kinds of shit.

But now, Sanemi realizes with hardly concealed dread, that that leaves one particular dick head –

“Giyuu and –”

You.

The woman of Sanemi’s dreams.

Now that is a pairing that Sanemi can be mad about. His eyes cut sharply across the room, where you sit stiffly behind Muichiro, hands curled into fists on your thighs. You and Tomioka? Paired to be stationed somewhere far, far away from here? Together? Alone?

Tomioka, who Sanemi is 99.999% certain has feelings for you. Tomioka, who deems himself “not like the rest of them”, like he’s above you all somehow. Tomioka, despite not bothering to speak to any of the other Hashira, found himself to be rather close with you. Even with Sanemi’s clearly voiced disdain for him, you remain friends. Tomioka, who makes Sanemi’s anger intensify when he sees him glance over to you discreetly, and you glance back and fucking smile at him!

It’s small. So tiny, that if Sanemi wasn’t already so well-versed in every little mannerism you possess, he’d for sure have missed it.

But unfortunately for you and Tomioka, Sanemi is well-versed in every little mannerism you possess, every move, and every single sound you’re capable of making. He knows you in ways Tomioka fucking wishes he could know you. In ways that Tomioka will never fucking know you if Sanemi has any say in it.

But so much can happen in such a short time. Who’s to say that you won’t find yourself falling for the Water Hashira in an unlikely way? The same unlikely way you found yourself falling for the Wind Hashira, and him for you. It’s enough to make Sanemi’s entire body tense.

Violet eyes pierce repeatedly into the back of the Water Hashira’s head, Sanemi wishing he’d fall dead in front of his eyes, and stop fucking staring at you. His mind races with a million different ways to kill Tomioka. The thoughts are fleeting, really so brief, the temptation to lunge for Mitsuri’s sword and wrap it around Tomioka’s neck, ending Sanemi’s misery right then and there. But would it be worth all the trouble?

Unlikely…

Which is why Sanemi instead settles for staring hard daggers into the side of your skull. Poking and prodding, hoping you feel the immense weight of his gaze and stop looking at goddamned Tomioka and look at him!

“Look at me!” Sanemi screams internally. “Turn. Just turn this way! Turn your head and look over here! Stop fucking smiling at him! LOOK AT ME!!”

You don’t look at him, though, don’t dare meet his gaze.

And that has Sanemi seething.

But he doesn’t have time to dwell, because Lady Amane speaks and her tone demands everyone’s attention.

“Muichiro, Sanemi. You will leave in three days’ time. Mitsuri and Obanai. You will leave in two days’ time.”

A staggered dispatching of the Hashira. Sanemi has a bad feeling about this.

“Tomioka and ___. You will leave tonight.”

This just keeps getting worse.

-

Sanemi’s been glued to his spot among the Hashira since, sitting with his legs folded, eyes closed and arms crossed for ages in an attempt to meditate and shove the fury down as deep as it can go until it’s no longer affecting him. It’s pointless, it seems. Even the darkness he’s staring into behind his eyelids is starting to piss him off.

The reasonable part of Sanemi is telling him that there’s no reason to be upset. This is work! It’s not like you requested this partnership. It’s not as though you asked the Master if you and Tomioka could go on this mission together for God knows how long, doing God knows what in your down time together. It’s work for God’s sakes! You’re not running off to the beach and frollicking through the market with your fingers laced together. You’ll be potentially fighting for your fucking lives out there.

That’s it. Work. Nothing more.

But the unreasonable part of Sanemi is telling him he has every right to be pissed! He’s observed Tomioka’s behavior around you – annoyingly desperate for your attention, quickly yearning from across the room. It’s pathetic. Worse, Sanemi’s observed your behavior around Tomioka as well. Far too kind, far too friendly for Sanemi’s liking. And you know how he feels! 

Even with your reassurance that you harbor no romantic feelings for Tomioka, Sanemi just cannot stand the thought of you two traveling shoulder to shoulder together. It can’t happen! 

Riding the train and sitting beside each other while you take in and discuss the beautiful views? Unacceptable! 

Sharing meals together, waking up and greeting each other first thing in the morning. Telling each other goodnight before climbing into bed?

Sanemi wants to rip his hair straight from his scalp at the thought of how domestic it all seems.

His reasonable side calls to him again, tries to calm him.

‘They’ll be far too busy patrolling for demons and potentially fighting Upper Moons to care about any of that.’

And somehow, that makes it all worse for him.

Sanemi would love nothing more than to lay down his life in front of you, for you if needed while facing an Upper Moon. He’d relish in standing back-to-back with you while raising your blades and bringing them down on any demon who stands in your way – together. You and him. You and Sanemi. Not you and Tomioka Giyuu.

With a sigh, Sanemi’s eyes open. All of the Hashira remain gathered in a circle, discussing the details of today’s meeting. Himejima drones on about whatever. Who really gives a fuck? Sanemi can’t be bothered. Not when you still haven’t taken even a second to look his way. 

And the rage continues to burn hot. He’s not getting any less angry.

‘Or jealous,’ his mind mocks.

The softness of the sunset peeks through the room’s windows, and it’s only a reminder that soon you’ll be on your way with Tomioka. And if things wind up going left, it could be the last time Sanemi ever sees you. It’s a thought that has Sanemi grinding his teeth, hard and loud enough that he’s grabbed Obanai’s attention, his elbow digging into Sanemi’s ribs.

The loud hiss that comes from Sanemi’s lips grabs Himejima’s attention, pausing his spiel.

“Hmm,” the monk hums. “Perhaps here is a fine place to stop. We will resume discussions at the next meeting.”

The Hashira stand, and Sanemi watches as each pairing finds each other. He’s grateful that Muichiro isn’t the small talk type because he simply murmurs that he will meet Sanemi at the destination and takes his leave. Obanai has found Mitsuri and he lets her do what she does best – talk his ear off. Himejima and Shinobu are both speaking quietly away from the rest of the group.

And you…Sanemi’s eyes find you, staring back at him finally. Your eyes are sad, a small smile holding an apology on your lips. Is it because you’ll be gone in the morning and will likely not have a moment to see him? Maybe. But there’s something else in your gaze, though Sanemi can’t quite place it. 

Then there’s Tomioka, who without fail, is heading towards you. You don’t see him, your eyes locked on to Sanemi’s. And he can’t imagine not having at least one last conversation before you go your separate ways for what could be the final time. He can’t have that.

Tomioka gets closer, and it makes Sanemi move, makes him remember that the clock is ticking. It won’t wait for him, and the more he stands here brooding, the closer you are to being out of his reach.

His feet carry him across the room, fast and long strides quickly closing the distance. Your eyes widen when you see him approaching, still not aware that Tomioka is also closing the gap, and when you finally do it’s too late.

Your name falls from Tomioka’s lips. The sound makes Sanemi’s jaw clench tight.

“I was hoping we could –”

Sanemi snatches your wrist, the yelp you let out cutting off the Water Hashira. Blue eyes take in the sight before him; you wide eyed and surprised. Sanemi, wide eyed and murderous.

“Fuck off, Tomioka,” Sanemi snarls, the venom dripping from every word. “We’re talking.”

His stupid, nonchalant demeanor drives Sanemi insane. He’s not the least bit affected by Sanemi’s tone.

“Yes, but–”

“No buts. I said fuck…” Sanemi’s voice lowers into a menacing whisper. “Off…”

You quickly shift between the two men, your hand coming up to land on Tomioka’s shoulder and Sanemi is really about ready to lose his shit. “I’ll meet you at the gates in a few hours, okay? I’ll send my crow for you.”

Tomioka’s eyes drift down to your hands where Sanemi still grips onto your wrist. Then they slide up to his face, where Sanemi’s lip curls up into a snarl. But you seem calm, unaffected even. So Tomioka simply tells you he will see you soon, and takes his leave.

The other Hashira still linger, pissing Sanemi off with their presence.

“Come with me,” he demands, and you nod.

“Not here, though.”

-

There’s hardly any sun left when you lead Sanemi to the small alleyway beside the building. It’s dark and quiet enough for you two to speak without interruption. Once alone, Sanemi pins your wrist to the wall, his face so close you can feel his breaths fanning against your face.

“What’s wrong with you?” He wastes no time getting to the point. “You get assigned to a mission with Tomioka and suddenly I’m invisible…”

You roll your eyes, because as always, you find him to be dramatic. And maybe he is being dramatic, but he can’t seem to find a fuck to give when you’re so close to leaving. 

“Oh, so you want to be out there with Tomioka, then?”

“Sanemi…” you whisper calmly.

He shakes his head. “No, don’t Sanemiiii me. I saw you at the meeting earlier, smiling at Tomioka when you found out you’d be sent off halfway across the country to do who knows what,” Sanemi hisses. “No objections from you?”

You scoff, snatching your hand from his hold. “We’re going halfway across the country to work, Sanemi.” Your hands settle on his bare chest and Sanemi has to stop his eyes from fluttering shut. “What should I have done? Refusing Lady Amane’s orders would be the same as refusing the Masters. I am not doing that just because you’re throwing a jealous fit over Giyuu. As always.”

“I am not…” he grumbles, “throwing a fit.”

At this, you snort, and the sound makes Sanemi soften. Only by a fraction.

“I just…” He pauses, hands coming to rest on your hips and his anger melts away finally, because that’s how it always is with you. The moment he’s able to touch you, feel you the way he desires, all turmoil disappears. 

“...hate Giyuu?” You finish his sentence for him, and Sanemi rolls his eyes, sighing.

“Not as much as I fucking hate you calling him by his first name like that,” he grumbles, leaning forward so that his face is nuzzled against your shoulder.

“I call everyone by their first name, you dummy.”

It’s true. But it only annoys Sanemi when it’s his name falling from your lips.

“He wants you, you know?  Potential life or death mission with a beautiful woman?” His voice lowers, grip on your hips squeezing hard, but not enough to hurt. “Probably thinks this is his perfect chance to make a move, that fucker.”

You shake your head, lips pursing together. “He doesn’t. And he wouldn’t.”

“He does. And he would. I mean, I would. I did.”

“That’s different!” You chuckle softly. “Giyuu…He–” you stop yourself, hands coming up to rub at your temples. “Why am I even arguing with you about this?!”

Because Sanemi hates that you’re leaving and that you’re leaving with Tomioka! And he hates that you and Tomioka are friends, that you call him by his first name with such affection it makes Sanemi’s skin crawl. He hates that you can’t see what Sanemi does when Tomioka looks at you. And he hates the idea of you potentially coming back in love with Tomioka and tossing Sanemi aside!

It seems so stupid when he spells it out in his head like this, but it’s how he feels. He’s not going to apologize for it.

“I don’t like it,” He mutters. “He has some weird secret crush on you and I hate seeing the way he looks at you. Like if you let him, he’ll ask you to marry him on the spot.” You chuckle at this, and Sanemi’s lips turn down with a scowl. “It’s not funny! Tomioka would love nothing more than to build you a pretty little house and have babies and shit. Fucking freak probably dreams about it. I can tell because–”

Because Sanemi would love nothing more than to do those exact things.

He feels the tension radiating off of you in an instant, his eyes falling onto your hands that are now rubbing absentmindedly along his scars. There’s a strange change in your demeanor. Like you’re nervous about something. Is just the mention of marriage and a house with kids so off putting? Perhaps you’re not interested. Or maybe you are interested, and you’re interested in having that with…

With Tomioka, is what Sanemi wants to add. But he thinks it better not to when he sees the look on your face. Quiet, thoughtful, maybe even a little sad.

“Sanemi…we need to talk.”

You feel his lips against your skin, turning down into a scowl. Then he’s pulling away to look at your face. “Not loving the sound of that.”

Your eyes find his, adjusting to the slow darkness creeping into the space. It’s only for a second before you’re looking away again.

“I–” Your voice trembles. “I feel like I need to tell you something.”

Fuck.

You do want that…and with Tomioka?! He should have known. The signs were right there in front of him

“I fucking knew it…”

“Knew what?”

He chuckles, dryly and with absolutely no humor. “That you want Tomioka. Or, excuse me, Giyuu.” He spits the Water Hashira’s name out like it’s bitter. He knows he sure is. “That’s why you were so fucking smiley when you got your orders, right?”

Sanemi steps back, just out of your reach and begins pacing, truly trying not to take it upon himself to bring the Hashira count down by one. Really, who’d miss Tomioka anyway? He sure fucking wouldn’t.

“Stop, that’s not it at all!”

“Oh, then what is it?!” He barks, then inhales deeply to try and calm himself, though he knows it will be pointless. Still, he lowers his voice. “You two have been making eyes at each other all goddamn day. You couldn’t even look at me after you got your orders.” He stares you down now, feet rooted in place.

“I’m trying to tell you that–”

“That you’re done with this? That why Tomioka’s over there shooting you encouraging smiles? Rushing over to you after the meeting?”

“No, he’s–”

“Because you need the pep talk to give you the courage to break this off, huh? Didn’t expect such a cowardly move from you.”

Sanemi can’t see it, but your hands ball into fists at your side, about two seconds from strangling him.

“Sanemi…” Your tone is a warning that he chooses to ignore.

“Oh, I bet you can’t fucking wait to run off into the sunset with that fucking wet rag.”

“I’m trying to –”

“And Tomioka, oh I just know he’s at home packing and imagining this amazing future you two are obviously planning to build together. It’s so –”

“Will you shut up?!” Your voice screeches, cutting through Sanemi’s rant like a sharp blade. “For the love of God! I’m trying to tell you that I was paired with Giyuu for a reason! It’s not because we’re planning to run away together. It’s not because I love him…well, I love him, but only as a friend –”

Sanemi’s lips open to speak, surely to argue about the love part but you hold up a finger and he quickly shuts his mouth. You pick up where you left off, voice shakily trying to get this out.

“The Master paired me up with Giyuu for this mission that could very well be my last because not only am I fucking terrified of what the future holds…” You inhale deeply, steeling yourself. “...but I’m also pregnant, Sanemi.”

Your wide eyes stare at him, the fear loud and clear in your dilated pupils. And his expression matches yours.

There’s silence. Long, drawn out. Loud.

What can he say? This was definitely not how he was expecting this conversation to go.

“You’re…” Sanemi’s rough voice shatters the quiet between you. His feet drag him forward, bring him closer until he’s standing chest to chest with you again.

You swallow hard, watery eyes locked onto the man before you. “...pregnant.”

He drops to his knees, not caring about the way the gravel digs painfully into his flesh, not caring how pathetic he may look to any passerby, not caring about anything except you. You and… 

His strong arms loop around your waist, pulling you to him until his cheek is pressed to your belly. You can feel his breath, ragged and quick against the fabric of your uniform, and you let that be the only sound for who knows how long until Sanemi speaks again.

“You’re with child…my…child?” His head tilts back, cheek still resting against your abdomen until his eyes meet yours. And you see it.

Fear. Raw, unfiltered fear.

It’s such a strange emotion to see on the face of the Wind Hashira. Known for facing any and all challenges head on without hesitation and coming out on top, you now see a look that is unfamiliar to you. Even when it’s just the two of you, you don’t know Sanemi to fear anything. But you do what you know to do when he needs comfort. Your fingers find his hair, slipping into the surprisingly soft tresses where you comb through soothingly. His eyes drift shut and he leans into your touch.

“Yes.” It’s a whisper. So soft, you’re not sure Sanemi’s heard. But when he inhales sharply, you know he has. “That’s why I’ve been given this pairing and station.”

Sanemi shakes his head, confused. He doesn’t understand what the pairing with Tomioka has to do with anything. Just that you heading to the front lines is out of the question. He mutters your name softly, then peers up at you with pleading eyes. “You…you can’t go into battle with child.”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want you to worry,” you answer, as though you can read his mind. Your voice trembles, and Sanemi can feel the splash of fallen tears against his cheek. Not his own.

He rises to his feet, his rough hands cupping your face and swiping away the moisture on your cheeks. Your hands hold onto his forearms, and he bends to press a soft kiss to your wrists. He sees your lip quivering, hears your quiet sniffles and his lips find yours. The kisses are feather light, but just the touch of his mouth against yours opens the floodgates, and you’re soon sobbing into Sanemi’s mouth.

He holds you while your body shakes with sobs, lets you press your hands against his chest again, dig your nails painfully into his skin until he’s gritting his teeth. Sanemi cannot imagine what you feel.

“We can speak to the Master. Or…Lady Amane,” Sanemi suggests quietly, holding you closer if possible.

“We can’t. These are orders from the Master himself.”

“He can’t do this,” he insists softly, quietly. Even he is a little afraid that someone will hear what he’s suggesting. To go against the Master…well, it’s highly frowned upon. 

“He’s doing what’s right…for now. Even Giyuu is kind enough to be escorting me away from the fight that’s sure to come.” You seem to have calmed down, voice a bit steadier now as you pull away from Sanemi to peer up at him. 

“I’m scared, Sanemi. I want…you. I want a life that’s not tainted by fear. And to do that, I have to fight. But if I fight and develop the mark, or if you die, we will be leaving this baby as an orphan.” 

Right. A condition of the mark – certain death. One that Sanemi, under no circumstance is willing to let you or your child suffer through.

“Not to mention,” you continue. “If I die in battle in my current condition, we…” You take Sanemi’s hand in yours, press it to your belly. “We will die…”

Another scenario Sanemi is not willing to let happen.

“I want to defeat Muzan so that we can finally have peace. So that we can be together without worrying constantly over what’s lurking in the darkness. Or if our child will be able to have a normal childhood and life. I want to live with you. I want to fall asleep and wake up in your arms. I want to spend our days as a family and…” You wipe at your eyes, tears threatening to spill again. “Everything is so uncertain now and I just–”

Your words die on your tongue when Sanemi’s lips crash into yours. He kisses you hungrily, swallowing every sob and whimper you have to offer. Partly because he wants to kiss away any pain, and partly because he’s damn near ready to cry himself.

It’s not fair.

This world is not fair.

“I don’t want you to worry about this, anymore,” Sanemi orders. “Take your leave. Protect yourself.” He kisses you again, tenderly this time, though his next words don’t match his actions. “And don’t die.”

Yes, everything is uncertain right now. Yes, there’s no way to know what the future holds for either of you or your unborn child. Yes, life is terrifying. There is much to be scared about. But Sanemi knows one thing for certain.

You must live. He must live. That child must live.

And Kibutsuji Muzan…whether he knows it or not, has just had his fate sealed.

Because Sanemi will do everything in his power to make sure that by the time this child comes to be, Muzan is long dead.

[harrisonarchive]

Remembering George with gratitude on his what would be his birthday. Thoughts go out to his family and friends.

Footage from VH1.

“I still feel like everybody else, that I’m just growing and learning. Basically, I feel pleased to have discovered this thing that’s inside me, that’s connected to the same thing that’s inside everybody and everything. I think now it’s just a matter of trying to hold onto it and manifest it more and more. If I feel love, I just want to feel more love. And if I feel a bit of peace, I want to feel more peace.” - George Harrison, The New Sun, 1990 Q: “[W]hat would you like to say to the younger generation that looks up to you?” George Harrison: “Try to realize what the purpose of being in a body is. There is only one purpose really and that is what you have to try to not forget. Who am I? Where did I come from? Where am I going?” - MSN web chat, February 15, 2001 George Harrison: “Thank you all! May God bless you all. Don’t forget to say all your prayers tonight. Be good little souls.‬ ‪Lots of Love!‬ ‪George.‬ ‪:) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)” - Yahoo chat, February 15, 2001

[dragoneyes618]

On February 5th, 1840, the Syrian Jewish community was thrown into peril when Father Thomas, an Italian monk, and his Muslim servant, Ibrahim Amara, disappeared in Damascus. Despite there being no evidence of the Jews’ involvement — in fact, historians think it’s more likely that Father Thomas was murdered by a local Turkish muleteer — the good citizens of Damascus could never lose an opportunity to scapegoat a Jew. Accusations of “blood matzos” spread rapidly (a common justification for many European blood libels), and thus began what became known as the Damascus affair. At the time, the city was governed by the (anti-Semitic) French consul, Ulysse de Ratti-Menton, who ordered a search of the Jewish quarter. While his hunt did not unearth any stored blood or bodies, Ulysse de Ratti-Menton was not about to let a small matter of literally no evidence get in the way of his convictions. A Jewish barber named Solomon Negrin was arbitrarily pulled off the street and tortured until he “confessed” that the monk had been killed in the house of David Harari — a wealthy member of the community — by seven Jews, who were rounded up before they could flee.

Meir Farhi, another wealthy Jew, was indicted in the disappearance of Ibrahim Amara. The Damascus authorities were furious that he escaped before they arrived to arrest him. Determined to drive him out of hiding, they began to whip his toddler son. After being forced to watch her son receive 300 lashes, and nearly bleed to death, a distraught Mrs. Farhi gave the authorities her husband’s location (along with a bribe for “humane” treatment), and he was promptly imprisoned.

In the interim, none of the seven “conspirators” in Father Thomas’s murder confessed, despite being tortured. Wanting a “confession,” as they still didn’t have any physical proof, Damascus authorities abducted 63 Jewish children (along with their mothers) and refused to release them until someone owned up. Aslan Farhi, a brother of Meir Farhi, confessed to the murder under torture.

While the Christians and Muslims had found their “murderers,” they still hadn’t located the bodies or the blood. Investigators eventually found some animal bones in the sewer, and claimed they belonged to Thomas and Amara. A local physician refused to certify that they were human bones and suggested they be forwarded to Europe for confirmation, but the French consul decided that would be too much effort — he had all the proof he needed.

Jewish communities worldwide were horrified about the blood libel, and even more so about the fact that the greater world accepted it as justified. No one in Europe rose to the defense of the Damascus Jewish community, or even questioned the obvious discrepancies in the case. But before the American Jewish community could take action, President Martin Van Buren spoke up.

Though the State Department issued an official statement condemning the situation in Damascus, President Van Buren wasn’t content to just send his “thoughts and prayers,” and instructed his government to pressure and influence the Sultan as well.

The American consul in Constantinople, David Porter, received the following message: “…As the scene of these barbarities are in the Mahomedan dominions, and as such inhuman practices are not of infrequent occurrence in the East, the President has directed me to instruct you do to everything in your power with the Government of his Imperial Highness, the Sultan to whom you are accredited… to prevent or mitigate these horrors…”

Mr. Porter’s pressure campaign (along with some assistance from the British and French governments) forced Pasha Muhammed Ali, the Ottoman Viceroy and ruler of Egypt and Syria, to end the torture and imprisonment of the Jewish prisoners who were still alive. Additionally, the American ambassador (along with Moses Montefiore) was able to secure an Ottoman imperial decree declaring that the blood libel had “not the least foundation in truth,” and that Jews “shall possess the same advantages and enjoy the same privileges” as his other subjects — most notably the free exercise of their religion.

While the American Jewish communities arranged protests in New York, Boston, Charleston, and Philadelphia, these rallies took place two weeks after the President intervened. His actions were a matter of conscience, not the result of political pressure or lobbying.

Source

[careyakane]

More February 24th thoughts-

What pulls me along with such persistence? Is it wonder? Is it the absence of something? Is it for myself? Is myself this very moment or all of me from the beginning? I don’t see why it would be somewhere in the middle—or is this striving all for others? For old classmates and lovers, for strangers and friends. Is all of this able to be boiled down simply into a want to be seen in a better light? “Oh, that boy and his incredible life, I always knew…” God, I hope it’s not the latter.

Does this persistent current that has led (or pushed) me since the very dawn of my being come from the same hallways and rooms of my mind that birth equally strong callings to lay awhile in a sunny patch of moss amongst the evergreens? Or to leave this machine of a life I lead and seek out distant coastlines and black-stoned beaches, new faces that know nothing of my pleas, nothing of my burdens?

I remember when California carried this clean marble slate. No one knew of Colorado or New York, of Ella, or of my childhood and its long nights filled with the cloudy-eyed man who threw fists at my fiery mother, only fueled by the punches. No one knew—until I corrupted my fresh start with the past. Now, years later, it’s all bled into one vast blotch of color and time that i grow tired in as I search and scan the canvas.

Why must I desire such action and motion while all the while praying for something simple and clear? Something I can hold with two hands and keep safe in my possession. Enough with these songs and words that exist in blank space—ever-changing, ever-comforting, ever-betraying… but no, no, no, I would die without them, and I know it.

So what then? I’ve asked a hundred questions, and I always step right back into an absence of answers. Everything seems to contradict, to disagree, and yet these are human words meant to tether us with imaginary ropes to imaginary boats in a very real and vast sea that will never, despite our endless prayer, be comprehended.

I think it’s best I reel my mind back in by a few thousand yards—back to this pale iron chair I sit in, back to my blue eyes and mismatched socks, this young Monday morning that will certainly never come again.

[blaire-windsor]

February 14, 2019

Blaire had never spent Valentine’s Day alone before. It wasn’t something she had ever planned on doing because love, after all, had always been a constant in her life. This year? Atticus was gone. Or, at least, he was distant in a way that made it clear they were over, even if neither of them had said the words out loud. She should have been heartbroken. Should have felt the absence of him like a missing limb.

But she didn’t.

What she missed wasn’t him, not really. She missed the feeling of being tethered to someone, of knowing there was one person in the world who thought of her first. She missed the assurance that, on a night like tonight, she would have someone’s hand to hold, a shoulder to rest her head against.

She tried to distract herself, flipping through her textbooks, scrolling mindlessly through her phone. No matter what she did, her mind kept drifting, slipping away from the past and into something, or rather, someone else.

Jeremy.

Had he ever spent Valentine’s Day alone? Or was he out right now, charming some girl, making her feel like the center of the universe with that lazy smile of his?

The thought sent a sharp twist through Blaire’s stomach, the ache settling deep in her chest. It was pathetic, really, how effortlessly he consumed her thoughts, how she yearned for something that was never hers to claim. She tried to fight it, to push him from her mind, but it was useless. It was always him. It had only ever been him.

So she did the only thing she could think of to feel close to him. She opened her laptop and created an anonymous Spotify account.

For hours, she combed through songs, each one a quiet confession, a whisper of everything she couldn’t say. You’re In My Dreams. Yearning. One Day. How I Feel. Each playlist became a love letter, a secret she could only speak in melodies.

She lingered the longest on one playlist in particular.

I Can’t Have You.

She filled it with aching, heart-wrenching songs - ones that felt like crying into a pillow at midnight, like staring at someone from across the room and knowing they’d never be yours. Waiting Room. Lover, You Should’ve Come Over. Every lyric was a piece of her, every note a quiet prayer that, somehow, he might hear the music the way she did.

Then, finally, she bought the card.

It was simple but cute, the paper red with a little mixtape on the front, the words You make my heart sing scrawled across it. Inside, she spilled her soul.

Jeremy,

From the moment I first saw you… those curls, those deep brown eyes, that sly, knowing smile with the tiny dimple in your right cheek… I felt something shift inside me. A quiet symphony began to play, a melody only I could hear, one that grows louder every time you’re near.

You are close enough to touch, yet impossibly out of reach. Still, I ache for you in a way I can’t quiet, in a way that lingers in the silence of the night, in the spaces between stolen glances and fleeting moments.

So I will stay here, yearning in the shadows, loving you from afar. If the universe is kind, maybe one day, my dreams won’t just be dreams.

Yours, always,  Your secret admirer

She hesitated only for a moment before scribbling the link to the playlist at the bottom. Then, before she could talk herself out of it, she slipped out of her dorm, the cold air biting at her skin as she hurried across campus.

Jeremy’s dormitory was quiet when she reached his door. She let out a slow breath, staring at the envelope in her hands. Then, with a racing heart and trembling fingers, she slid it under the door.

As she walked back through the empty halls, a strange warmth bloomed in her chest. It didn’t matter that he wouldn’t know it was from her. It didn’t matter that tonight was spent alone, that she wouldn’t wake up to flowers or chocolates or whispered “I love you’s.”

For the first time in a long time, Blaire had put her heart into the world; and somehow, despite the solitude, this was her favorite Valentine’s Day of all.

[gryficowa]

Boycott!

Now that I have your attention:

[lilfoxy1013]

Alrighty.. just putting this here for safekeeping and so maybe it’ll be easier to explain. On Feb 17, 2024 my boyfriend at the time woke up around 9:30 am to me having a seizure. He took me to a research hospital in the area and we got to the ED around 11 am. They did a CT and an MRI and have found what they called a 4 cm tumor in my right frontal lobe. I had another MRI in the middle of March and got more measurements on the size of the tumor. Based on the measurements, I did the math and found it was 119 cubic cm (about the size of a billiards ball). I had a right frontal craniotomy on April 1, 2024. They were able to remove the entire tumor and my MRI the evening after surgery showed no residual tumor. I’ve met with an oncologist and we waited for pathology results. Pathology came back as a Grade 3 Astrocytoma with the IDH1 mutation. I have started 500 mg of Tibsovo daily to keep it from growing back, or at least slow it down. There isn’t a cure for brain tumors, so we just wait for it to come back and do surgery again. If you’ve read this far into my real life shit, I appreciate any well wishes, thoughts, and prayers if you’re religious. I try to keep my spirits up and handle things rationally but some days that is a little more difficult. I’m stuck on antiseizure medication for at least a year from my latest seizure (luckily it’s still just the seizure in Feb 2024) and cannot drive per my state’s laws for a year from the last seizure as well.

Luckily my job has been flexible with me since February but trying to get back to full time hours is a struggle, especially if I want to take care of myself as well (bathing, eating, cleaning, etc). Also, lots of back and forth with insurance companies and the hospital and lots of scans and follow up appointments.

6 month MRI was clean. “No progression” and “stable burden of disease”. Joint pain has been mostly managed with new meds.

I moved in with my “friends” who turned into girlfriend, fiancée, and wife very quickly (we had a hand fasting ceremony Oct 6, 2024) and her husband became my boyfriend as well. Being in a functional throuple is new to them, so there have been some hiccups but everything is looking up. 💜

9 month post op MRI came back with no suspicious activity to suggest disease progression or recurrence, so that’s a win! I’m almost able to legally drive in Arkansas again (very stupid seizure law here). The wifey’s husband and I are not pursuing a relationship right now to keep our household as stable as possible, but I think it’s for the best long term ☺️

[aster-saturn]

ME LIFE'S ANNIVERSARY (birthday) IS THIS SUNDAYYYYY

And what better way to celebrate stupidly early by writing the most ridiculous blurb for me and anyone else who might see this and your birthday is in February!!

🎉BRUCETASTIC BIRTHDAY BASH🎂

Characters:

Randy Cunningham -🧣

Movie! Sonic -🌀

Rottmnt Leo -⚔️

Ahhh, the second of February—a seemingly normal day in the quiet little town of [Your Hometown Here]. But for one lucky soul, today is no ordinary day... it’s someone's BIRTHDAY! Let’s take a peek inside and see what chaotic shenanigans are about to unfold.

The blaring sound of "HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOUUUUUUUU!!!" woke you with a start. Your eyelids fluttered open, and there he was—Randy Cunningham, the Ninja of Norrisville himself, kneeling on your bed, singing the loudest, most high-key rendition of "Happy Birthday" you've ever heard.

He grinned as he saw your confusion.

"Top of the mornin' to the birthday bozo!"

"Randy?" you mumbled, still groggy. "How did you even get in here?"

"Magic, science, prayer, delusional writer of the universe. The important thing is I'm here. Now get up, it's your anniversary of life!"

Before you could ask what that meant, a whooshing sound interrupted the already bizarre morning. A shimmering golden ring portal opened in the middle of your room, and out zipped Sonic Wachowski, carrying what seemed to be a precarious stack of gifts and goodies.

"Time sure flies by when you're getting old—but not too fast to miss the big day!" Sonic yelled, sliding into the room with his trademark cocky grin. He skidded to a halt, posed dramatically, and picked up the second verse of "Happy Birthday" exactly where Randy had left off.

Unfortunately, as he leaned into the high note, the stack of presents toppled over, scattering gift-wrapped boxes, ribbons, and what appeared to be several chili dogs across your floor.

"Aw, man," Sonic muttered, scratching his head. "I hope you guys believe in the 5 second rule."

"DUDE, you shoobed the vibe!" Randy shouted, leaping off the bed to pick up a chili dog. "What even is this?!"

"Relax," Sonic said with a shrug. "It's your birthday breakfast. You're welcome."

Before you could even process what was happening, another portal opened—but this time, it was chaotic, crackling with blue energy. You barely had time to react before Leonardo Hamato, fearless faceman leader of the Mad Dogs, tumbled out face-first onto the pile of gifts.

"NAILED IT!" Leo shouted, springing to his feet like nothing happened. He immediately started singing the third verse of "Happy Birthday," adding unnecessary boop to your nose to really sell the moment.

"You’re late!" Sonic quipped.

"Fashionably," Leo retorted, tossing his mask trails off his shoulders.

The room was now filled with confetti, ribbons, and an overwhelming amount of chaotic energy. You stared at the three of them in stunned disbelief, trying to figure out how your morning had spiraled so far out of control.

"Wait," you said, holding up a hand. "How do you all know each other?!"

The trio exchanged awkward glances.

"Well, uh," Randy began, rubbing the back of his neck. "So there was this dude, right. Blocky glasses, weird blue sparkling hair-"

"Woah-"

"Weird blue??"

"-that might've gave us some interdimensional tech and said it was totally safe—"

"Until Speedy over here hit the turbo button," Leo added.

"I am the turbo button," Sonic shot back, crossing his arms.

"And now we’re here!" Randy finished with a flourish, tossing a confetti bomb that exploded over your bed.

"Best. Birthday. Ever," Leo declared, throwing an arm around you and grinning like he'd accomplished something profound.

You popped your lips with an inquisitive eyebrow raise. "So, no cake?"

The trio paused for a moment before groaning in unison.

"Alright, who was on cake duty!?" -⚔️

"You did NOT say anything about cake in your plan!" -🧣

"Operation: 'Brucetastic Birthday Bash' would've just been a regular day without cake!" -⚔️

"Wait- CAKE!? I thought you said shake!" -🌀

Sonic rummaged around the pile of gifts he brought along before pulling out... A milkshake. "We can stick a candle in this if you want?"

You just stared at them, unsure whether to laugh, scream, or cry. What a way to celebrate another year to your life.

[serenity-unlocked]

A little thing I did based on Boueibu fan-events me and Adri ( @koolkitty9 ) have discussed. Since we both wanted to organize different things this year, I thought an easier way to visualize everything would be helpful!

"Love Macho release prayer circle - Every day" was something I added as a little "haha" to every month because everyday I stare at the Love Macho twitter longingly lol. January is made fainter because when I started this it was already February. Event names written in black are ones that might still have their month moved around if needed.

I'll likely update this as the pending dates become more certain and if anyone else wishes to organize an event!

Text version under the cut! Also added a note on who is organizing what.

February:

'boueibu_fanworks' (Dreamwidth) anniversary event - February 9th (Organizer: Serenity)

Rarepair Week - February 23rd - March 1st (Organizer: Serenity)

---

March:

[No planned events]

---

April:

Pretty Boy Week - April 20th - 26th (Organizer: Adri)

Umatani gifting fest - dates pending (but will likely open sign-ups on April 28th and have reveals around May 28th) (Organizer: Serenity)

---

May:

[No planned events (beyond the bigger part of the gifting event)]

---

June:

Shipping Week - dates pending (Organizer: Adri)

---

July:

Happy Kiss Drabble event - dates pending (Organizer: Serenity)

---

August:

Secret Santa sign-ups - dates pending, but reveals on Christmas (Organizer: Adri)

---

September:

[No planned events]

---

October:

Second Pretty Boy Week - dates pending (Organizer: Adri)

---

November:

[No planned events]

---

December:

[No planned events (aside from Secret Santa reveals)]

[toychest321]

(I wanted to apologize for my lack of activity on this page. I had so many plans for posts I wanted to make for Ramadan, but this past month has been so horribly stressful. Whenever I have time free from schoolwork I'm so incredibly burnt out I lack the motivation to post. Now there's barely any time left before Ramadan is over, even though there were other posts I wanted to make. I'll probably still make them in the future, though, and highlight Islamic culture through dolls however and whenever I can!)

With that said, I'd like to introduce you to the most recently-released Muslim doll, Umm Amirah!

As far as I can tell, Umm Amirah was released in February of 2023 by the company Allova, a family-owned company based in the UK.

While the name "Umm" literally translates to "Mother" or "Mother of", it can also be used as an additive prefix for whatever trait follows. "Amirah", meanwhile, means "Princess", so (as far as I can tell) her name roughly means "she who is like a princess".

And that name certainly fits! While her outfit is relatively simple (which makes sense, since her primary demographic is those aged 3-7), the sparkling tulle outer skirt shows that subtle princess-y influence!

The doll comes in pink and purple outfit variants, and comes with a prayer mat, a pink bag to carry it, and a pink hairbrush. She has fair skin, blue eyes, dark or blonde hair beneath her hijab, and 11 points of articulation! Umm Amirah's is meant to be a cultural education tool, and introduce the practice of Salah to children.

As I mentioned in a previous post regarding the Morning (Fajr) and Evening Prayers (Isha), Salah is the daily process of giving prayer to Allah. It is the second pillar of Islam, and must be done facing Mecca.

A couple of months ago in February 2024, Allova also released this Princess Fashion Set. While it's not an official Umm Amirah fashion pack, I still feel like it could somewhat be classified as such with its name and their doll used for modelling.

The pack comes with 6 dresses: pale pink with dotted skirt; pink with puffed sleeves and ruffle skirt; blue with silver detailing, top, and belt; a blue summer dress with white and yellow pattern; purple; and black and white with white flower buttons and a polka-dot skirt. It also comes with four headscarves in blue, lilac, black, and gold, 3 handbags (tan, white, and pink) , and 3 pairs of shoes (black, silver, and fuschia(?))

I obviously cant post for each outfit combination, but I would definitely say that the blue summer dress is my least favorite of those available. The material looks the cheapest out of those in the pack, its design is comparatively simple, and the pattern is sorta tacky. I feel like the central concept could've been executed better.

My favorite looks, though, would have to be:

The full black and white look sorta gives me girlboss vibes, like something she could wear at her desk writing articles or modeling for the cover of a magazine! The blue dress, meanwhile, is sooooo elegant, like she's going to a fancy party in the evening! My absolute favorite though would have to be the gold hijab with the pink frilly dress, which takes the "princess" part of Umm Amirah to a whole new level!

In spite of my thoughts on the summer dress of the pack, I'm in love with this doll and its outfits as a whole! It's been fun putting out this post I'd been meaning to make for a while. A lot of the Muslim dolls I've found, while impressive, unfortunately don't seem to be in production much in the current year, so it's nice to see there's still options available! If you're still looking for a potential Eid gift, I'd highly recommend getting her from Allova's website!

Ramadan Kareem!

[makiwife]

joe burrow on obx??!!

Joe Burrow x Reader Instagram au

authors notes: face claim is Madelyn Cline. these are so fun to make lol. ooc?? all pics are from Madelyn Clines Instagram. joes pics are from his Instagram. enjoy!!

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Y/nInstagram

Liked by madisonbaileybabe, obx, joeyb_9 and 532,712,364 others

Y/nInstagram thank you instyle for the photoshoot!! I love you.

view comments

madisonbaileybabe: YOU LOOK SO GOOD!!

↳ Y/nInstagram: lover💋

drewstarkey: my sister is that you?

joeyb_9: Sarah Cameron?? arent you supposed to be in pougelandia?

↳ Y/nInstagram: bengals qb?? i thought you weren’t an social media kinda guy?😁

y/n444: marry me pls🙏🙏

jonathandavissofficial: instyle did you good

lahjay10_: ain’t no way burrow commented

↳ liked by Y/nInstagram

obx: def not a Sarah Cameron dupe

oliviarodrigo: stunna

Ilovey/n: how can someone be so gorgeous

obxfan1: praying we get obx 3

——————————————————————————

Y/nInstagram

Liked by obx, nfl, joeyb_9 and 2,437,832,910 others

Y/nInstagram catch us on february 23th🤞

view comments

nfl: any spoilers??

↳ Y/nInstagram: make football an all year-round sport then we can talk.

hichasestokes: OBX 3!!!!

madisonbaileybabe: you ate in that pic

austinnorth55: cover is so sick

sam_hubbard_:will be watching the second it comes out

Obxlover: I NEED IT NOW

Jaira5: need more jaira and jarah

bengals: obx 4?

↳ Y/nInstagram: maybe?? maybe not??

joeyb_9: holy shit it’s happening

↳ Y/nInstagram indeed it is

Zendaya: can’t wait!!

obxfan1: THE GODS HEARD MY PRAYERS

rudeth: WOOOWHOOO

——————————————————————————

joeyb_9

Liked by Y/nInstagram, bengals, and 834,927,120 others

joeyb_9 football and beaches

view comments

Y/nInstagram: we’ll be in the sand forever🥰

↳ joeyb_9: isn’t that cute

Evan_Mcphearson: YOURE DATING THE ACTRESS THAT PLAYS SARAH CAMERON?!??

Y/nInstagram: yes I’m the football he’s holding

nfl: THE BIGGEST PLOT TWIST EVER???

lahjay10_: are you gonna be in the new szn?

↳ Y/nInstagram: damnit how’d you know🙄

sam_hubbard_: as if people didn’t know from joe’s thirsty ass comments😹

Y/nInstagram: love you joey!!

↳ joeyb_9 love you more baby

bengals: makes obx that more interesting

joeburrowlover: HES DATING Y/N???

teehiggins: way to tell everyone!

haydenrhurst: this is actually crazy

joshallenqb: 🔥🔥

joeyb61: NO WAYY

——————————————————————————

Y/nInstagram

Liked by madisonbaileybabe, rudeth, obx and 1,798,472,321 others

Y/nInstagram my second family🥹

view comments

obx: we love you!!

madisonbaileybabe: miss filming w you🥲

↳ Y/nInstagram: we’ll be back😉

joeyb_9: orange looks so good on you

drewstarkey: Sarah and kie best duo??

jonathandavissofficial: hottest cast ever

rudeth: frickin P4L

bengals: repping our iconic orange

↳ Liked by Y/nInstagram

obxforever: HOW IS EVERYONE SO HOTT

nfl: 4️⃣

carlaciagrant: looking so fineee

charles_esten: miss yall

hichasestokes: the pics go crazy

y/nloverr: Y/n and madison best girls

——————————————————————————

joeyb_9 Instagram Story

Y/nInstagram replied to your story: I love you Joey 🥹🥹

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoy writing these series.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

[andydrysdalerogers]

A Second Chance

Pairing: MC President! Andy Barber x F! Reader 

Word Count: 3.8K 

Song: Everything Has Changed by Taylor Swift and Ed Sheeran

Summary: Its the day before Valentine’s and you just walked into a nighmare. Running away, you find yourself in the last place you expected. And meet a dangerous but handsome stranger... 

Warnings: cheating (by both parties technically); SMUT! Consensual, however no protection used; oral (female receiving); allusions to torture 

Banners by me! Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

February 13 

Rain.  

It's always so dreary when it rains.  

I also hate driving in the rain.  

Not so much the water as the people who suddenly don’t know how to drive.  

All I want to do was get home and snuggle with my husband, James. My husband of three years, James hated the cold so tonight would be a great night to start a fire, cuddle on the couch with a glass of wine and maybe James will read to me. I smirked as I knew this would lead to more in the bedroom later.  The thought sent shivers down my spine.  

Happy to have gotten off earlier than expected, I raced to the door with my coat over my head. Didn’t really help as I still gotten drenched in the rain. Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice that the lights were already on. But it didn’t distract that there was someone else in the house.  

I glanced at my phone. No messages from my husband indicating he would be home earlier. My mind panics. Grabbing an umbrella from the stand, the one I forget to take with me this morning, I walked slowly towards the bedrooms.  The sounds are muffled, and I wondered if my intruders are wearing masks.  

All of the doors are closed. But I hear another sound coming from the master. They must be going after the jewelry. Closing my eyes, I say a little prayer before turning the knob of the door.  

And walking into a nightmare.  

I can see his face, morphed into pleasure as a blonde bounced on top of him, her breasts moving up and down. My body is frozen as I take in the scene. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be doing this to me. He was fucking someone else on our martial bed.  

I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo. I can’t think why I took it, but I knew I would need it. I’m scared no one would believe me. The quiet snap of my phone camera is basically silent in the sounds of their fucking.  They didn’t even notice. They were so wrapped in each other, they didn’t notice they had an audience. “Bucky,” I whispered, using the nickname his best friend used for him. I couldn’t say his name or even the nickname I used. Because he didn’t deserve that tenderness.  Not anymore.  

My voice is what broke through.  He opened his eyes and saw me. “YN!” That kicked me out of my frozen state, and I ran back to the door, grabbing my purse as I ran. “YN, wait!” 

Nothing was going to get me to stop. I climbed into my car, soaked to the bone and pulled away from the house. The tears mixed with the rain droplet running down from my hair. I didn’t know where I am going but I couldn’t stay there. My phone began to ring, and I looked to see James is calling.  I sent it to voicemail and then turned off the phone.  

The drive was chaotic, trying to stay safe but also going as fast as I could away from my hometown. My body was tired, mind ablaze and I needed to take a break.  It had been four hours since I left home, and I weren’t exactly sure where I am at the moment. I slowed down and saw glowing lights from a bar. I pulled over and took a breath.  Food, maybe a drink and then I could find a hotel for the night.  I would deal with the shitshow of my life tomorrow.  

I looked into the mirror and sighed.  A drowned rat looked better than me with my smeared makeup and red eyes.  I had some wipes in my purse so I cleaned up my face, the least I could do. The rain had mercifully stopped so I climbed out and headed in.  

It was a mistake.  I had stepped into a biker bar. It was loud and smoky, but I could smell the food being made. I should turn around and run away from this place. But hunger won out. As I took a step in, everything got quiet. I could feel every eye on me, but I held my head high and approached the bar. A tall man with glasses came over, wipe a glass. “Can I help you gorgeous?” 

“I .. uh… are you still serving food?” As if on cue, my stomach let out a loud rumble and I flushed in embarrassment.  

“Yeah, gorgeous we have food. Burger and fries ok?” I nodded. “Anything to drink?” 

“A beer,” I whispered.  

“Ok honey, sit right here on the bar. I’ll keep an eye on you.” I smiled in gratitude as the man set a beer in front of me. “My name is Jensen.”  

“YN.” I took a long pull of the beer.  

“Nice to meet you, Miss YN. Let me get your order started.” Jensen walked away and I took the chance to look around. Everyone has gone back to what they were doing with the occasional glance on my direction. James loves his motorcycle. Said it was freeing. His best friend is actually part of a motorcycle club. The thought of James made me sad. I shook it from my head. No need to think about that asshole. 

A few minutes later, Jensen placed a plate of what had to be the most delicious smelling burger and fries. “The Curtis special Miss YN.” He placed another beer next to it. “Enjoy.” I picked up the burger and took that first bite.  The moan I let out as the juiciness of the meat and cheese hit my tastebuds, was borderline porn star. But I really gave zero fucks.  

“You make that burger look so good, kitten.” My eyes snapped up to a man standing next to me. I took in his dark hair, bright blue eyes, pink lips surrounded by what looked like a soft beard. He wore a leather cut, black t-shirt, blue jeans and motorcycle boots. He chuckled as I blatantly checked him out. “Like what you see, kitten?” 

Realizing that my mouth had popped open, I shut my jaw and swallowed the automatic drool I had for the man standing next to me.  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.  

“Hey, Prez, see you met YN here,” Jensen says as he comes back to check on me.  

“YN, what a beautiful name, kitten. I’m Andy.” He offers his hand. I take it and realize how soft his hand. “What is a woman with a beautiful name as yours doing alone in a motorcycle bar?” 

I really didn’t want to answer that question. “Why did Jensen call you Prez?” I deflected.  

Andy gave me a smirk. “Ok, not wanting to answer my question is fine.  He calls me Prez because I am the president of the club. And you, beautiful, have stumbled into our bar.”  

“Oh,” I flushed again and looked back at my burger.  

“Keep eating, kitten. I’ll keep talking,” Andy said.  “Jen, two whiskeys.”  

“Got it Prez.” 

“So, kitten,” Andy turned back to me, “gonna answer my question yet?” I shook my head and took another bite of my burger. “Ok then.  How’d you find this bar?” 

I swallowed.  “I was driving around, and I saw the sign. I was hungry. It been a few hours since I stopped.” I shoved a fry in my mouth to indicate I was done talking.  

“Ah, well I’m sure Curtis would love to know what you thought of his burger.”  

“It's delicious. Not sure if it's because I’m hungry or if it really is that good.  Will have to try it again.” I gave a soft smile. Jensen dropped the whiskeys in front of Andy. Andy slid one over to me. “I’ve never drank whiskey before.”  

“Well, kitten, like they always say, there’s a first time for everything.” Andy held his glass up and I picked up mine and clinked. “To new friends.”  

I watched as he downed the whiskey in one go. I had always been a beer or mixed drink girl. I used to be a lot of things. A supportive wife, a reliable employee, a good friend, a loving daughter.  But after tonight, was any of that true? I picked up the tumbler and threw it back just like Andy. I sputtered as I swallowed, the burn of the whiskey cutting off my oxygen for a sec. “Whoa! Kitten!” Andy jumped up and patted my back as I tried to breathe through the burn and not retch in front of the most handsome man I had ever met.  

“Jensen, some water man.” Andy rubbed my back as I started to recover.  

“I’m so embarrassed,” I croaked. This was my cue to pay and leave. This night couldn’t get worse. I moved to get my wallet when Andy grabbed my hand. I looked at him. “Please let me go.”  

“Don’t be embarrassed kitten. Not everyone can shoot whiskey.” He cupped my cheek, and the warmth of his hand had me leaning into his warmth. “Come, sit with me YN.” I looked up into his eyes. His blues were clear and open, caring and sympathy coursed through them. All I could do was nod and he took my hand. He guided me to a back corner table, in the shadows, where everyone couldn’t stare.  

“Thank you,” I whispered. I couldn’t remember the last time James has been as caring. Yes, he sat with me, but I had always initiated the intimacy between he and I. He was gentleman in public, in front of family and friends but at home he seemed distant and now me knew why. Andy sat me right next to him, chair turned towards him. “Are you always this nice to strangers, Prez?” I tested the name, and it didn’t feel quite right.  

Andy frowned. “Don’t call me that. You call me Andy, ok? Or daddy, whatever works.” He smirks at me before running a hand up my leg. “Tell me, kitten, why is an happily married woman in a dive bar the day before Valentine’s Day? Did he hurt you?” He scanned my face for signs of abuse.  

“Not physically, no.” My eyes filled with more tears; I’d thought I had run out by now but no. A single tear slipped down my cheek. “I walked in on him and ...” I stopped.  

“Idiot,” Andy mumbled. He reached up and thumbed the tear away. “He is a fucking moron to let a gorgeous creature like you go.” Another tear slips and he catches it with his thumb. He puts it in his mouth and licks it off. I gasp and he grins. “You taste sweet, kitten.”  

“Andy, I...” I wasn’t sure what to say. He made my body feel warm, wanted. I felt the blush return.  

“YN, baby, I don’t know what else he has done to you, but I know that you are diamond among us.” Andy stared into my eyes, never drifting away from them.  He studied them, memorized at the color and emotion in them. “He doesn’t know what he has done. Are you done with him?” 

“Yes,” I whispered.  

“Good.” I felt Andy slip my rings from my finger. He pockets them. “Let me show you how a real man treats a goddess. Would you go upstairs with me, kitten?” 

This is it. I could go home and face reality, deal with the fall out alone. Or I could have my own freeing moment and have a night with the handsome stranger. My marriage was over either way.  

“Can I go to your bed, daddy?” 

February 14th  

Andy 

I don’t know how I got so fucking lucky. I stood up, took the hand of the gorgeous creature in front of me and led her up the stairs. I could feel the tension she was holding but I didn’t say a word. I needed to wait until we were alone.  

I shut the door to my suite and watched as YN took in my room. “It's not glamourous but its clean. I just so happened to have washed my sheets this morning, kitten.”  

“Oh.” She turned to me with big, innocent eyes. “I wasn’t inspecting anything.”�� 

“I know. Just want to make you comfortable.” I tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “We don’t have to do anything, YN. If you just want to sleep off the day, then I’ll just ask to sleep next to you. If...” she cuts me off but pressing a kiss to my lips. I wrap my arms around her and pull her closer. I lick the seam of her lips, asking for permission to deepen and she opens her mouth. I taste her, and God, I haven’t tasted anything so sweet before.  At least, not until I get to taste her pussy.  

I walk us back to my bed and spin us, so I sit, and she straddles me, never letting go of this kiss. My cock hardens underneath her, and she moans as she feels it against her cunt.  

I pulled back from our kiss, panting, watching the desire cloud her beautiful eyes.  “You are so beautiful; I don’t think I want to let you go back out.” She giggled and ran her fingernails in my hair.  I practically purred. “Kitten has claws I see.” 

“I do,” she replies as she gently scratches my head and then trying to go down my back. I yanked my shirt over my head, and I heard her mutter. “Oh fuck, he can’t be real.”  

“As real as I get, kitten. C’mon test those claws on me while I get you naked.” I kneeled before her as I unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down, leaving the lacy pink panties on her. She sunk her nails into my shoulders as I started kissing on the tops of her thighs and around her hips.  

“Oh, please, Andy, please,” she begged as I skimmed over her panties. I grinned at her wickedly. I kissed up her abdomen, pulling up her silk blouse and over her head.  She had on the matching bra, and I groaned. I kissed the tops of her breast, listening to her keen and moan, her head tilted back, letting her hair tumble down her back.  

I took a step back to admire my girl in her pink lacy underwear. “Fuck, baby, you look like a wet dream walking. I want to eat your pussy until this entire club house knows you’re mine. Then I want to fuck you until you forget that asshole who thought he could take you for granted.” I laid her back on the bed and kissed down her sternum.  

“Please, oh god, please,” she cried out as I got to the apex of her thighs. I inhaled her scent and drooled. I grasped her panties and pulled them down her legs, moving her legs up into the air.  As soon as the sorry excuse of fabric called panties were out of the way, I left her legs up on my shoulders. Her chest was heaving in anticipation. I wedged my shoulders in between her legs and laid down, kissing her navel and then moving down.  

That first lick made my eyes roll into the back of my head.  She tastes better than I thought. I can’t help but latch onto her pussy and start eating her hard.  Her back arched so high that I had to take my arm and pin her back down to the bed. I slurped and nibbled, and she cried out loud. “Andy! Andy!”  

“That’s right kitten, scream my name. Let them know who is making you feel so good.” I pushed two fingers into her, and she screamed. I latched onto her clit and worked her as I felt her clench my fingers. God, she was going to feel so good around my cock. I popped off of her clit. “Come for me, kitten, let me drink that sweet nectar.” I started to suck on her clit again and she detonated, her legs shaking, her body arching as I drank her in. I pumped my fingers slowly, my tongue gently lapping as she came back down to earth.  

I kissed up her body as I laid next to her. Her eyes were glassy and she was flushed a delicious pink. She turned to face me. “Hi kitten.”  

“Hi,” she gave me a sleepy smile.  

“You want me to stop here, get some sleep?” 

She shook her head, “No. Please don’t stop.”  

Jesus, how deprived is she?  Did Barnes not give her any attention? She keeps rubbing her hands on my arms.  She’s touch-starved. That bastard. Well, now I have to give this beautiful angel the best sex of her life. I gave her a smirk. “You don’t have to beg, baby girl.” I laid on top of her, my cock painfully hard in my boxers. “Just tell me I can keep you.”  

She slid her hands down my sides, lightly scratching me. She grasped my boxer briefs and yanked them down over my ass and helped kicked them off. My cock notched itself right on her pussy, causing her to mewl at the feeling.  “Please Andy, make me forget.”  

“Oh, sweetheart,” I cooed as I began to push in. “You won’t remember your own name when I’m done with you.” She was tight but all the attention I had paid on her pussy made her loose enough and I was able to slide in.  She cried out as I bottomed out.  

I gave her a few moments to adjust before slowing moving my hips. Her walls are warm and wet, clenching around me with every thrust. “Christ, YN, your pussy is so fucking tight.  Did he not take care of you?” 

She cries out as I hit a particular spot in her. “No,” she gasped, “he didn’t. He was always working. Oh, fuck,” as I hit that spot again. “Fuck him,” she cried out.  

“That’s right, kitten. It's just me, fucking you the way you’re supposed to be fuck.”  I lifted her leg to wrap around me, letting me get deeper. “You’re supposed to be worshipped, cherished, wanted.” I sucked on her tit before I kept talking. “Fuck, you’re like a drug that I want to hit all the time. I think I want you on my cock all day every day, keeping me warm.” I pulled out to stop myself from cumming and flipped her to her belly.  I grasped her hips and popped her ass in the air. I sank back into her. Christ, she was tighter this way. “It would feel so good to have you sitting on my cock.” 

“Yes, yes,” she moaned. “I want that, Andy, please.”  

“Good girl. I’ll give you the world.” I could feel the bottom of my spine tingle and I knew I was close. “C’mon kitten, give it to me.  Let go. Let go and I’m yours.” I reached to rub her clit, and she howled at how sensitive she was.  But a few circles and she tighten around my cock before pulsing and fluttering with her orgasm.  “Oh, fuck, YN!” I followed right behind her, emptying myself into her.  

I didn’t wear protection.  

I didn’t much care. I wanted this woman to be my wife, the mother of my children, the first lady of this club, my queen, my goddess, my life.  

She is now mine.  

I pulled out as slowly and as gently as I could, turned her back over and stared down at her. I loved the sated smile that she gave me. “Feel good, kitten?” 

“The best,” she replied, reach up to kiss me.  “I want more,” she whispered.  

“Christ kitten, give a man a chance.”  I don’t know how, she grabbed my half hard cock and pushed it back inside of her and she clenched right then. “Ah fuck! Behave kitten.” I nipped at her neck. 

“Don’t wanna,” she replied as she did it again.  And wouldn’t you know it, I started to get hard again. Fuck it, round two, here we go.  

As I watched my sleeping kitten lay beside me, I couldn’t help but smile. She has no idea. She has no idea how long I wanted her. She doesn’t remember who I am. But I know her husband. And I know her.  

YN. The girl from the bar seven years ago.  When she met her husband.  I saw her first. He made the move first.  

She has no idea how obsessed I am with her.  

How lucky am I that her husband, our former sergeant-in-arms, is a dumb cheating scumbag? He left to be with her, taking a “real job,” wanted to start a family.  But once a man-whore, always a man-whore, I guess.  

When I spotted her entering my bar, I texted Steve, our VP, and mentioned that his best friend’s old lady was here.  Steve messaged back 30 minutes later confirming what I had suspected. He had cheated and he was distraught. He has called Steve to help look for her. But his best friend knew the truth about how he treated his wife and was sick and tired of his shit.  He asked me to keep an eye on her while he “helped” look for her.  

I did so much more than that. At least four rounds of it. And forever to go.  

Looking over at my sleeping goddess one more time, I called Steve. “Prez?” 

“I’m going to take her home in the morning to pack. Make sure the paperwork is ready to go. She gets the money, her car and jewelry. Barnes can have the house.”  

“He’s gonna be pissed.”  

“Then he shouldn't have fucked around. He found out what happens when you don’t hold the one person he should have near and dear to his heart.  She is mine now and I won’t be letting go.  She is my queen, my life and the new first lady of this club.  He wants to fuck around and find out, let him. Get it done, Rogers.”  

“Yes, sir.  Should I let him go?” 

I could hear the muffled sounds in the background. “Not until she’s had a chance to pack in peace. I’m letting her sleep right now. She’s emotional exhausted.” As well as physically, but I wasn’t going to say that. Yet.   

“Did you fuck her Prez?” Fucking mind reader.  Steve’s voice was neutral, not a hit of judgment in it.  He knew that his best friend didn’t deserve this beauty. He had been unfaithful from the beginning. He knew I wanted her. The sound of muffled screams put a smile on my face. Barnes heard the question. And I had the answer.  

“Yep,” and I hung up. My VP knew how we handle cheaters.  We may be a motorcycle club, and we play around as a single man but once we had a woman, we were loyal.  

His loss.  

My gain.  

My girl.  

I kissed her forehead and then her sweet pouting lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day, kitten.”  

** should this one be a full-on story? Let me know in the comments! 

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