The Battle Of Hogwarts

Hi hi! I’m the anon that requested the new baby fic and I’m sosososo happy u liked it! I LOVE baby Danny so much she’s so cute this is so perfect MUAH

Thank you so much! I'm really glad that I was able to write what you requested! I love this prompt sm no joke 🙏

Hello!! I’m going to start a short series and I need your guys help to pick!! 🧡😋

𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊

🌟 = Fluff, 🪐 = Angst, ✨ = mild spice, 🎬 = hurt/comfort

{𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝} → open ! || requests are usually open unless they get too much, then I will turn them off so that I could finish other requests ! ||

ONE-SHOTS :

Midnight Pasta

hidden in plain sight 🌟 - Y/N has always struggled with insecurity, convinced that someone like Regulus Black could never notice her. Little does she know, he hasn’t stopped talking about her for weeks.

Where you are 🪐- Regulus knew he wouldn’t survive, but he didn’t mind. Death meant seeing you again.

SERIES:

Potter-Black household- After James and Lily’s passing, they entrust their son, Harry, to the care of James’ sister, Y/N, and her husband, Regulus Black, who raise him as their own. (finished)

BLURBS :

(not yet available)

Uhh I’m dying for like angsty fluff w lee so I was thinking about him w the B1 prompt

Not when I just realized

Lee just realized how much you really meant to him.

Lee (bones and all) x eater!reader

requested by anon.

word count: 687

warnings: attempts of running away

note: i hope this was angsty-fluff just the way you wanted 🪼

find more here: masterlist, Lee (bones and all) master list

The night air was heavy with the smell of wet earth and something else, something darker, metallic, that neither of you would admit to but both recognized. Lee's truck idled a few feet away, parked quietly, headlights slicing through the trees. The two of you stood just off the dirt road, your breathing shallow, your hands shaking at your sides.

You had attempted to escape. You truly had. But Lee was faster. He always was.

You waited for him to sleep, his breathing slow and steady next to you, before you slipped out of the truck. You crept cautiously, not wanting the dry leaves and twigs lying about to give away your footsteps. Your scuffed drawstring bag, stuffed with what little you had to bring—an additional shirt, a canteen of water, a handful of crumpled dollar bills—was thrown over your shoulder as you set foot into the great unknown.

You didn't know where you were headed. Just away. Away from the starvation, from the things you'd done, from the boy who had somehow occupied your whole world.

You'd gone a mile before you noticed his footsteps behind you. Quick, firm.

"Stop," Lee had bellowed, his tone brusque, slicing across the stillness of the woods.

Your heart had raced, but you hadn't turned. Not yet. Not until he slipped his hand around your wrist, tight but not unkind, and stopped you in your tracks. You could have struggled, could have screamed. But you knew he'd never release you without a battle. 

And so here you stood, motionless, suspended between what you had and what still lay between you.

"Where you gonna go?" His voice was gentler than you anticipated, but there was something naked in it, something desperate.

You didn't look at the darkness ahead. "I don't know."

"Bullshit."

You turned, your eyes colliding with his. Even in the dim light, you could sense the fear behind them. Not anger. Not frustration. Fear. And it destroyed you.

"You always knew this wasn't forever," you whispered.

Lee shook his head, moving closer. His fingers curled as if he wanted to touch you but wasn't certain you'd allow it. "I never knew that," he whispered, his voice rough. "I never considered it like that. You leaving—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "You can't leave me now. Not when I just figured out how much you mean to me."

Your chest hurt, as if something in you had been sucked out. You wished to yell at him, inform him that he did not get to do this, to pull you back when it was simple and hold on tight when you attempted to leave.

Instead, you swallowed hard. "You'll be alright."

"That isn't true," he stated, his voice cracking. "You know that isn't true. You're the only one who knows."

Your throat constricted. Naturally, you did know. Who but another Eater would comprehend the hunger, the isolation, the way the world would ever reject you? You and Lee had lived together for so long now, traveling from spot to spot, protecting each other, feeding each other. And you were the one attempting to leave now, as if that was even an option.

"Stay," he begged. "I'll get it right next time. I won't exclude you, I promise.”

You hunted his features for the deceit, but none was there. Only Lee, naked and open in a fashion, ever exposed himself to anyone. You did not want to go; reality seeped into your joints like a wound. You'd only been frightened. Frightened of needing him so intensely.

Your fingers quivered, reflecting his, before you finally bridged the space between you, nudging your forehead against his. Lee breathed shakily, his hands staying at your waist, awaiting the invitation. You granted it by inclining towards him, allowing his heat to anchor you.

“I hate you for keeping me here," you whispered.

Lee released a wheezy, half-laugh, angling his head just so that your lips skimmed. "I'd hate me too."

And despite everything, despite the hunger, the danger, the blood that would always stain both of your hands, you weren’t going anywhere.

𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤: 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚

╰┈➤𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚈/𝙽 𝙰𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢’𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚗𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚍, 𝚠𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚁𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝙱𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔. 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚗, 𝚁𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎-𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚗𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚢. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚕𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚜, 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚣𝚒𝚎𝚛.

warnings: fluff

[Regulus Black x Fem Avery! reader]

-

As usual, you quietly slipped out of your shared bed, careful not to disturb Regulus, who was a notoriously light sleeper. The hardest part was always getting in and out of bed without making a sound. You tiptoed your way to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and smiled at the sight of the leftover pasta Regulus had made earlier. He was an excellent cook, and his pasta was one of your favorites.

After piling some onto a plate, you popped it into the microwave. You were a pro at midnight snacking, always stopping the microwave just before the loud beep betrayed your secret. Except tonight, something went wrong.

The beep sounded, sharp and intrusive, slicing through the stillness of the night like a wand's hex. You froze, eyes wide, hoping against hope that Regulus hadn’t heard it. But before you could even take a breath, you heard the soft shuffle of footsteps approaching the kitchen.

Regulus appeared in the doorway, his hair mussed and a sleepy frown on his face. “Care to explain why my microwave is having a conversation with the entire flat at—” he glanced at the clock on the wall, “—three in the morning?”

Caught in the act, you froze with your hand still on the plate, a sheepish smile creeping onto your face. "I was hungry," you murmured, your tone equal parts innocent and apologetic, though you knew that wouldn’t fully appease him.

Regulus stood in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes half-lidded with sleep, though his expression carried more curiosity than anger. His tousled hair framed his face, and the way he leaned against the doorframe made it clear he wasn’t about to let this go. "Hungry? At three in the morning?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "You couldn’t wait a few more hours until breakfast?"

You shifted awkwardly, twirling the fork in your hand. "Well... waiting didn’t seem like the best option," you admitted, avoiding his gaze. "And... this isn’t exactly new."

His eyebrow climbed higher. "Not new?"

With a resigned sigh, you gestured vaguely toward the fridge. "I’ve been doing this since we moved in. I just—well, I’m usually better at not getting caught. Tonight was... a fluke."

Regulus blinked at you, his expression unreadable for a long moment. Then, to your surprise, a slow smirk curved his lips. "So, let me get this straight," he said, his voice tinged with amusement. "You’ve been sneaking into the kitchen, raiding the leftovers, and using my microwave for your late-night escapades—all without me noticing—until tonight?"

You nodded, shoving a forkful of pasta into your mouth to buy yourself time. Maybe if you didn’t say anything else, he’d let it go.

Instead, Regulus sighed, the sound somewhere between exasperation and reluctant amusement. "You know, most people would just have a proper dinner instead of sneaking around like a thief in their own home."

"I did have dinner!" you protested, swallowing quickly. "I just—didn’t have enough. And your cooking is too good to resist."

He gave you a skeptical look but didn’t argue. Instead, he pushed off the doorframe, walked over to the counter, and grabbed a second fork from the drawer. "Well, you’ve ruined my sleep now," he said, sitting down across from you and helping himself to the pasta on your plate.

You stared at him, baffled. "Wait, you’re not mad?"

"Mad?" He gave you a look that was almost offended by the suggestion. "No. A little annoyed that you didn’t think to wake me up for midnight snacks sooner, maybe. But mad? Not really."

You blinked. "Why would I wake you up? You’d complain."

"Of course I’d complain," he said, his smirk growing. "But I’d still come. Midnight snacks are always better with company."

You laughed, the tension easing as you watched him steal another bite of your pasta. "You’re ridiculous, you know that?"

"And you’re lucky I’m such a tolerant flatmate," he shot back, raising an eyebrow at you. "Otherwise, I might have hexed the microwave by now."

You rolled your eyes, grinning. "Fine. Next time, I’ll wake you. But only if you promise not to steal all the food."

"No promises," Regulus said, twirling another forkful of pasta. "But you’re welcome to try."

As the two of you shared the stolen leftovers, the quiet of the flat felt warmer, cozier. Maybe midnight snacks were better with company after all. Or maybe, you thought with a smirk, it was just the challenge of not getting caught that made it so fun.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 😙

🌟 = Fluff, 🪐 = Angst, ✨ = mild spice, 🎬 = hurt/comfort

{𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝} → open ! || requests are usually open unless they get too much, then I will turn them off so that I could finish other requests ! ||

HARRY POTTER - MARAUDERS :

REGULUS BLACK

SIRIUS BLACK - (N/A)

REMUS LUPIN - (N/A)

JAMES POTTER - (N/A)

HARRY POTTER - (N/A)

DRACO MALFOY - (N/A)

DUNE :

PAUL ATREIDES

FEYD RAUTHA - (N/A)

LETO ATREIDES - (N/A)

CHANI KYNES - (N/A)

DUNCAN IDAHO - (N/A)

PRINCESS IRULAN - (N/A)

OTHERS :

TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET

WILLY WONKA

LEE (BONES AND ALL)

ELIO PERLMAN - (N/A)

KYLE SCHEIBLE - (N/A)

YULE (DON'T LOOK UP) - (N/A)

HENRY V (THE KING) - (N/A)

My biggest strength is my biggest curse.

Imagination.

For the rest of my life it will plague me.

Writing stories of passion and romance that will never be real.

Never can be real.

I spin tales of love and in doing so I doom myself for thinking I could ever be the lucky character in my own story.

Thunder

After James and Lily’s passing, they entrust their son, Harry, to the care of James’ sister, Y/N, and her husband, Regulus Black, who raise him as their own.

[regulus black x fem potter! reader]

warnings: fluff

One stormy night, the wind howled through the trees, rattling the windowpanes as rain splattered against the glass in uneven bursts. The heavy clouds outside swallowed the moonlight, casting the house into near darkness. Inside his small bedroom, four-year-old Harry Potter tossed and turned, his tiny fingers gripping the soft fabric of his blanket.

Then, a particularly loud crack of thunder split the night, shaking the walls with its ferocity. Harry gasped, his heart hammering in his chest. The sound was too much—too loud, too sudden, too scary. His small body tensed, and tears pricked at the corners of his emerald-green eyes. He sat up quickly, the dim glow of the enchanted nightlight barely doing anything to push back the shadows that seemed to loom larger with every flash of lightning.

Without a second thought, he flung aside his blanket and clutched his beloved stuffed stag, a gift from his Uncle Siri, one he never went to bed without. Holding the plush toy tightly against his chest, he scrambled out of bed, his little feet hitting the cool wooden floor. The hallway stretched ahead of him, dark and unfamiliar in the storm’s flickering light, but he didn’t hesitate. He knew the way by heart.

Each step was cautious yet determined as he padded down the corridor, his breath coming in quiet, hurried puffs. The house groaned under the storm’s weight, and another rumble of thunder sent him into a near run. By the time he reached the large wooden door of his baba and mama’s room, his tiny hands were shaking. With effort, he pushed the door open just enough to slip inside, the comforting scent of home immediately wrapping around him like a warm embrace.

Blinking in the darkness, his bright green eyes searched for them, his safe place. The familiar figures of Y/N and Regulus lay curled together beneath the blankets, the rhythmic sound of their breathing a soft lull against the storm’s fury outside. He didn’t hesitate. With a soft sniffle, he scrambled up onto the bed, crawling between them and pressing himself into the warmth of their bodies.

“Mama… Baba…” he whispered sleepily, his voice small and frightened. “The sky is loud.”

Regulus stirred first, groggy but instinctively protective, his arm curling around Harry and pulling him close. “Mmm…” he hummed in acknowledgment, his voice thick with sleep. “It’s alright, Harry”

Y/N shifted as well, barely opening her eyes before instinctively reaching out, her fingers brushing through Harry’s wild, untamed hair. The feel of his small frame trembling slightly made her frown, and she gently pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’re safe, love,” she murmured, her voice warm and reassuring despite her drowsiness. “The thunder can’t hurt you.”

Regulus, still half-asleep, let out a low hum of agreement, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on Harry’s back. “Just the clouds talking to each other,” he murmured.

Harry buried his face against Y/N’s side, his small fingers clutching at the fabric of her nightshirt. “Don’t want the sky to talk anymore…” he mumbled, his words slightly muffled by sleep.

Y/N chuckled softly, exchanging a knowing glance with Regulus over their son’s head. Thunderstorms had never bothered her much, nor did they seem to faze Regulus, but she knew to Harry, that each roar of thunder felt like a monster lurking in the dark.

“Well then,” she whispered, brushing her fingers through his hair in slow, comforting strokes. “We’ll just have to drown it out, won’t we?”

Harry peeked up at her with tired, curious eyes. “How?” he asked softly, still gripping his stuffed stag.

“With a bedtime story, of course,” she said, her voice gentle and sure.

Regulus gave a sleepy chuckle, shifting slightly but not letting go of Harry. “Hmm… make it a good one,” he murmured, already half-asleep again.

Y/N smiled as she began weaving a tale, her voice soft and rhythmic, each word forming a safe, warm cocoon around them. Harry’s little body relaxed further, his breathing evening out as his eyelids drooped heavily. The storm raged on outside, but he felt safe here, nestled between the two people who loved him most.

Within minutes, his quiet, steady breaths told them he was asleep, his tiny fingers still curled around Y/N’s nightshirt, his stuffed stag tucked under his chin.

Regulus let out a contented sigh, tightening his hold on both of them before whispering, “He’s ours, isn’t he?”

Y/N smiled, pressing a soft kiss to Harry’s head. “Always,” she whispered back.

As the storm continued outside, their little family slept peacefully, wrapped in warmth, love, and the quiet promise of safety.

-> next chapter

Learning how to read

Regulus and Y/N try to teach Harry how to read

words: 0.5k

warnings: fluff, not proofread, alive Regulus and Sirius not being in Azkaban

“Alright, Harry, let’s try this again,” Y/N said patiently, tapping the open book in front of them. “What does this word say?”

Harry, sprawled across the plush rug in the Black family library, kicked his legs idly and squinted at the sentence. He traced the letters with his finger, lips moving as he tried to sound it out.

“C… ca… castle?” he guessed hopefully.

Y/N smiled. “Close! It’s a cauldron. You almost had it.”

Harry groaned dramatically and flopped onto his back. “This is so boring.”

Regulus, sitting in a chair nearby with his own book, arched an eyebrow. “Reading is not boring, Harry.”

Harry turned his head to stare at his Baba with a look of deep betrayal. “But it is! There aren’t even any dragons in this book!”

Y/N chuckled. “We have to practice the small words first, love. Then we can move on to dragons.”

Harry pouted. “But I want adventure stories now!”

Regulus sighed, rubbing his temple. “You won’t understand adventure stories if you can’t read properly.”

Harry huffed but reluctantly sat up again. “Fine,” he mumbled, picking up the book. “But only if I get a story about a dragon next.”

Before Y/N could agree, the library doors burst open.

“Never fear, Padfoot is here!” Sirius declared dramatically, striding into the room with a mischievous grin.

Regulus groaned. “Oh, no.”

Harry immediately perked up. “Uncle Siri!” He scrambled to his feet, rushing toward him.

Sirius scooped him up and twirled him in the air. “My favorite little troublemaker! What are you up to?”

“Reading lessons,” Y/N answered, crossing her arms.

Sirius wrinkled his nose. “Ugh. Sounds dull.”

Harry nodded eagerly. “It is!”

Regulus shut his book with a sigh. “We were making progress before you arrived.”

Sirius ignored him, digging into his coat and pulling out something that made Regulus’s eye twitch.

A brightly colored, illustrated comic book.

“Forget the boring old schoolbooks, Harry,” Sirius declared, wiggling the comic in front of him. “If you’re going to read, you should read something fun.”

Harry gasped. “What is it?”

Sirius grinned. “The Adventures of Martin the Mad Muggle!” He flipped open the pages, showing off the dramatic illustrations of a confused Muggle accidentally causing magical mayhem wherever he went.

Harry’s eyes widened in delight. “That looks amazing!”

Regulus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes,” Sirius shot back, smirking.

Y/N sighed, hiding her amusement. “Sirius, you’re not exactly helping.”

“Oh, come on,” Sirius said, plopping onto the rug beside Harry. “Think of it as… incentive! He wants adventure stories? Let him practice with this!”

Regulus glared. “That is not proper literature.”

Harry, meanwhile, was already flipping through the comic excitedly. “Look, Baba! There’s a dragon in this one!”

Regulus groaned as Y/N stifled a laugh.

Sirius winked. “See? Learning can be fun.”

Regulus muttered something under his breath that sounded suspicious like ‘you are the bane of my existence’, but ultimately, he sighed in defeat.

Y/N ruffled Harry’s hair and smirked at Sirius. “Fine. But if he starts writing his letters backward because of those ridiculous fonts, I’m blaming you.”

Sirius grinned, slinging an arm around his godson. “Deal.”

Harry, completely oblivious to the war being waged over his reading material, beamed. “This is the best lesson ever!”

Regulus groaned again.

Movie night

At home movie date with step-father Timmy.

stepdad!Timothée x mom!reader

word count: 1K

warnings: BRIEF mentions of abuse, fluff

note: unedited lol

find more here: masterlist

The day had been long and grueling. Hours of filming had passed, and when you were finally done, your body screamed in exhaustion. Yet even in exhaustion, there was one thing that always made the end of the day worth it: picking up Alice from daycare.

As you pulled up to the small brick building, you could already spot your five-year-old through the glass doors, bouncing up and down on her feet when she saw you. The minute you came in, she ran to your arms, her little hands around your neck as you picked her up.

"Mommy!" she shrieked, her face breaking out in excitement. "Miss Jenna, let me finger paint today! I made you a picture!"

You kissed her forehead, enjoying the heat of her small body against yours. "I can't wait to see it, sweetheart. Did you have a good day today?"

Alice bobbed her head excitedly. "Uh-huh! And guess what? I didn't even take a nap!"

You laughed. "That's amazing, but I bet you're going to be tired later."

"Not a bit!" she protested, yawning right afterward.

You laughed, settling her on your hip as you scooped up her little backpack. "Okay, let's go home."

The ride home was dominated by Alice's constant talk about her day, and as you pulled into your driveway, you were relieved to see the familiar comforting view of home. You carried Alice indoors, unaware that a surprise awaited you.

As soon as you opened the door and walked inside, your breath was taken in your throat. Your downtown home's living room had been fully converted into a movie theater. String lights hung from the ceiling, and they provided a warm, golden light to the room. The blinds were closed, and an ice cream station had been established, complete with various toppings. A new batch of French fries was on the counter, and a popcorn machine was in the corner, the buttery aroma wafting through the air. In front of the couch, a blanket fort had been deliberately set up, packed with pillows and soft blankets.

"Surprise!" Timothée shouted out, his voice full of excitement.

You stood there in shock as Alice struggled free from your arms and ran towards him. "Timmy! You did this?" she cried out, her eyes wide with astonishment. Timothée got down to her height, placing his hands on his knees with a grin on his face. "Of course, I did! You and Mommy had a long day, so I thought, what better way to unwind than a special movie night?"

Alice let out a gasp, her small hands clasped together. "Best surprise EVER!" she shrieked before dashing over to the popcorn machine, her enthusiasm overflowing.

You looked over at Timothée, still in wonder. "You did all this for us?” He shrugged playfully. "Of course. You two deserve it." His tone was warm, full of sincerity. "I thought we could watch whatever Alice chooses, eat way too much ice cream, and just have a nice night together."

Your heart filled with affection as you moved closer, encircling his neck with your arms. "You're great, you know that?" Timothée smiled, hugging your waist. "I do my best."

Alice pulled at his sleeve before he could speak further. "Timmy, can we go now? I wanna choose the movie!"

"Sure," Timothée replied, hoisting her onto his shoulders as she laughed. "What do we watch?" Alice drummed her chin theatrically, then smiled. "Encanto!"

Timothée breathed in. "Awesome choice! But before that, do you want to get some ice cream?”

“YES!" Alice shouted. She jumped down and dashed towards the ice cream corner with Timothée close behind. You saw them with a heart full of love, aware that although Timothée was not Alice's biological father, he loved her as if she were his own. And from the way she gazed at him, with admiration and trust, it was apparent that Alice loved him just the same.

As the three of you finally nestled up under the blanket fort, ice cream in your hands and the movie beginning, you couldn't help but think—this was happiness. Simple as that. Your little family, where you were meant to be. 

Your mind wandered back to the past, to the life you had before Timothée entered it. Alice's real father had been another man, a man who should have kept you safe but who had become the reason you had to flee. The relationship had begun well, but with time, his temper had grown worse. The way he treated you, the way he behaved around Alice, had frightened you. When he had raised his hand, even once, you knew that you had to go. Not only for yourself, but for Alice. You battled for sole custody, refusing to leave her vulnerable and never looking back. It hadn't been simple, rebuilding your life as a single parent, but then Timothée had blundered in like a gust of fresh air. He had demonstrated to you that love was gentle, that love was safe. That a man could love a child who wasn't biologically his own as deeply as if she were.

As the first scene of Encanto was played, you turned your eyes on Alice, who was nestled between you and Timothée, her little hands clutching a bowl of popcorn. And after a while, you leaned over to her with a smile. "What do you say to Timothée, sweetheart?" 

Alice looked up with her big, expressive eyes at him and smiled. "Thank you, Daddy!" she chirped merrily before grabbing another bite of popcorn.

Timothée froze, his breath hitching as his eyes slightly glistened. He blinked a few times, a hand instinctively coming up to rub his face as a soft chuckle escaped his lips. “Anytime, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling her close and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

You stretched out, fingers intertwined with his, a reassuring grip of his hand. He gripped it back, his eyes shining with love and appreciation. And as Alice sat through the movie, blissfully unaware of the depth of emotional response her words had elicited, you knew at that moment that Timothée would never be more than a step away, as her father, as your husband, as the center of your small family.