#also to answer tags in rest of prev tags

[nico-the-overlord]

Rebel how the hell do you keep hitting me hard with my silly posts

¨Came back wrong¨ but I actually came back better than ever, people are just stupid and refuse to believe such a fact

[kqutie]

EPIC: THE FAIR MAIDEN (not so platonic ver.)

CHAPTER TWO : THE FAVOURABLE CIRCUMSTANCE

relations. : platonic various epic characters/reader -- platonic odysseus/reader ; polites/reader ; platonic eurylochus/reader ; platonic elpenor/reader ; platonic perimedes/reader ; platonic odysseus' crew/reader

chpt. sum. : you feed the rest of Odysseus' fleet and earn the trust and love of all 600 men. You even come to an agreement with a certain, goddess of wisdom.

tags. : reader is a disney princess ; female reader ; pure comfort ; reader helps ody get home ; animal crossing new horizons game mechanics ; the crew are lowkey simping ; elpenor and perimedes make the best duo! ; athena makes an appearance ; isekai and transmigration ; fix it fic ; characters know their future ; happy ending for everyone!

length. : 5.2k

a/n : i took advantage of my bursts of inspiration and current obsession for EPIC: The Musical to get this out, hopefully it's a good read. A third chapter is guaranteed to come! I'm thinking of making this a 4-5 part mini series -- just pure fluff and comfort! Enjoy my loves!

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← prev | one: the second miracle

The crew were dehydrated and hungry. This is the price they had to pay to avoid the Cyclops and, at first, they felt it was worth it. However, now that their stomachs were constantly aching, a heavy and painful reminder of their ravenous hunger, they were beginning to second-guess themselves. Growing weaker by the day, they left their oars, slowing their journey home considerably. There also weren’t any reliable winds to push them home. The gods were determined not to influence their journey home in this altered reality but that too had become a major drawback. They couldn’t see an end to it; their spirits were dwindling and the idea of stepping on Ithaca’s sands was now a distant dream.

It wasn’t until the flag was raised by their Captain’s ship that the crewmen dared to feel an ounce of hope. With what little strength they had left, they aligned their boats and set up the slim bridge across, connecting the two vessels. They recognised the first person to traverse the bridge: Polites, their optimist of a third commander. They also recognised the second person to come across: Eurylochus, their hardened second in command. It was the third person that they didn’t recognise, however. 

“Who is that second commander?” Lycaon asks, approaching the tall, sword-wielding Eurylochus but is unable to remain standing in his weakened state. He envied the commanders who could still stand so tall despite their harrowing situation.

“She is the fair maiden,” he answers simply. 

“Does she have no name?” 

“She cannot speak, but she is a blessing to us all,” Polites cut in with a grin, his eyes remaining on you as you cautiously cross the bridge, your long, flowing white dress dancing with the weak sea breeze. “Come now, I assure you it’s safe,” the headband-wearing third commander urges in a gentle and kind voice, softly pulling you to safety with his sweetness. “That’s it, good girl,” he praises as soon as you make it close enough to hold his outstretched hand. He gently guides you to the boat’s perimeter and reaches up to hold your waist, where he then proceeds to lower you down with ease. If Polites was shocked at the amount of energy and strength your food had given him, he didn’t let it show but Eurylochus certainly did. Never before had he seen his gentle third commander display such brawn; perhaps it was his willingness to be a gentleman in the presence of a lady that helped aid his sudden show of burliness.

You smile at Polites in gratitude but are slightly warm in the cheeks from his praise. For a gentle-mannered man to call you so sweetly and smile as if he hadn't just made your heart skip a beat whilst effortlessly lifting and lowering you safely to the ground was something you had never experienced before. Though, admittedly, in the short time you've had to think about it, you won't be complaining if you ever experience it again.

Taking the chance to look around, you’re saddened by the appearance of these war-torn soldiers and crewmen. They had fought for ten long years and came out victorious but it appears as though they aren’t meant to stop fighting just yet. Now they were faced with the most formidable foe, Mother Nature and the seas ruled by one of the cruellest gods you think you’ve ever witnessed. In an attempt to soothe them, you offer a kind smile to which their sunken features are somewhat startled but not unpleasantly. It’s been a long while since they’ve been in the presence of feminine beauty quite like yours. And in their touch-starved, hungry and aching states, you appear before them as a miracle, a mercy upon their blurring visions before they succumb to hunger and their eventual deaths. 

“We call her the fair maiden, she is a very important guest of the Captain,” Polites announces with a smile, making the starved crew tilt their heads in question, slow to comprehend his words. Their third in command was the singular shining optimist of their entire fleet but they couldn’t believe how happy he was in such dire times. And why was he glowing and not sunken? Did you have something to do with it? “She is here to offer us help,” Polites turns to you, silently asking for a demonstration of your blessing while Eurylochus protectively stands behind you. He knows the desperate actions starved men will attempt in the face of the one thing they desire most, his Captain was also aware of this and both agreed that he be the one to protect you across the eleven black boats of his fleet. 

Nodding once, you walk forward and approach Lycaon. The starved man pushes back his chestnut locks so that he can observe you without the shadows of his overgrown and messy hair. Admiring your appearance, there’s something about you that's reassuring, he already feels safe and taken care of under the warm smile on your lips. 

“Good day, m’lady,” he bows his head in politeness after manoeuvring himself into taking a knee before you. If you were an important guest of their Captain, you were to be treated as equal to the Captain. Several of the other crew members who still have the strength to move, mirrored his actions. Soon enough, a majority of the men on board were taking a knee and bowing their heads to you. It made you a little shy and tuck your chin in bashfully, an endearing action to those who were able to witness it. 

Gently, you raise Lycaon’s head with your soft fingers under his chin, giving him a warm look before reaching for your inventory and materialising a fresh basket of bread and a deep bowl of minestrone soup before him. With a gasp and wide eyes, Lycaon looks between you and the food several times before finally meeting eyes with the second and third commanders.

Was this a dream?

Polites laughs and Lycaon realises he had spoken aloud, “It is not a dream, my friend. The fair maiden is here to bless us with food, enough food to feed us all!” Polites then turns to the antsy crewmen looking ready to pounce from a distance, his eyes sharpening uncharacteristically at their savage appearance, “She has plenty to go around so I advise you all to wait patiently…” Polites lets his words sink in, only continuing when the men visibly reel back, ashamed, “If any harm comes to her because of your impatience and greed, you will be severely punished.  Understood?!” Eurylochus looked openly impressed from where he stood, nodding in approval behind his usually sweet friend. 

“Form groups of ten now and we will make the rounds,” Eurylochus’ firm command was immediately followed. The first group, composed of those who gravitated towards Lycaon, bowed their heads in gratitude and jumped at filling their stomachs the instant you returned the gesture. It was as if they had asked for silent permission and pounced when you finally gave it; they wouldn’t dare sabotage their chance at finally being able to eat a full meal. Before you could move on to the next group, however, Lycaon gently takes your hands with his calloused, and shaking ones to press a grateful kiss against your knuckles. 

“Thank you, my lady,” unable to speak, you convey your assurance by taking the hand he kissed and petting his head, softly trailing your hand down to cup his cheek and smiling when he leans into your touch. His tired but assured olive eyes flutter close to savour your softness and warmth. You’re surprised at the tears that fall from his long lashes but smile when you see his smiling lips littered with crumbs. 

You make the rounds with the rest of the groups and happily watch as they all have their fill. Thank goodness the animal crossing portion sizes are as unrealistically big as in the game; everyone could have their fill without having to deprive another of their portion. It was also helpful that when all the food was gone, the cutlery and tableware it came with also disappeared — no waste!

Just as the first group was finishing up their meal, you returned to offer them several large, perfectly round, and juicy oranges as dessert. They cheer in delight and awe at your airy giggle. Despite being unable to speak, you manage to sound the sweetest, twinkling laugh they’ve ever heard. To be provided with delicious food on such hard times was already such a blessing but to receive it from a beautifully fair and kind maiden was an entirely new blessing atop that. Their hearts and minds can be at ease now, their stomachs full and their nights no longer filled with restless tossing and turning from the discomfort of hunger. 

After receiving the gratitude of the 50 men on this boat, you make the same trip to the rest of the 10 black boats left in Odysseus’ fleet. The experience was relatively the same, beginning with weary eyes and ending with cheers, sighs of contentment and endless gratitude. You can’t count the amount of crew members who have kissed your hand or cried tears of relief before you.

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

For another day or two, you repeat the same routine of feeding the crew a hearty meal you cook up on the kitchenette summoned on Odysseus’ ship, right beside your storage shed for easy access to ingredients. Thinking ahead, you make a bunch of bread baskets, from normal bread to the savoury and snack bread baskets and offer those with jams on your morning deliveries to each ship. That allows the crew to have some sustenance while you prepare their bigger meal later on in the day. You feel bad for being unable to offer more food but Odysseus assures you that you’re doing more for them than what is needed. 

“I can have my crew survive on just one meal a day, they wouldn’t dare complain after the hunger they’ve had to endure until you arrived,” Odysseus assures with a kind smile after seeing your anxious expression. However, you immediately throw up your hands and wave them about in protest, causing the Captain to look at you perplexed. 

“I don’t think she approves of that, Captain,” Polites laughs and claps his friend on the shoulder. Odysseus shakes his head and chuckles in light humour. 

“Then let me express my thanks for helping my crew. You are truly a blessing and have the biggest heart,” Odysseus bows at the waist like he did the first day you arrived and Polite quickly follows. Even Eurylochus bows from where he's stationed guarding your shed. It flusters you and you reach out to lightly tap their shoulders in assurance, as if to say, ‘It’s alright, please raise your heads,’.

“Those coconuts you gave out are also really helpful,” Polites nods towards the pile of coconuts on one end of the ship, “They’re a great way to quench our thirst. I’d say they’re more hydrating than water,” you clap in happiness and nod eagerly, your eyes closed as you smile and it escapes you how all three— the captain and his commanders —soften their gazes at the sight. They can only truly believe in Polites’ ‘open arms’ belief because of your boundless kindness and eagerness to help. 

On the second day aboard Odysseus’ ship, you cook up a treat by making the three pizza recipes available to you from Animal Crossing. The Margherita, mushroom and seafood pizzas were very well received by the crew along with the peaches you gave for dessert. They were eager to request more pizzas in the future if you were willing. On the third day, you made a bunch of Seabass pies (many of the men adored the fish design you put on top, they called it ‘charming’) and apples for dessert.

For many, it was their first time having pizza and Seabass pie so it was really fun to see them, not only, satiate their hunger, but also openly react to something they were tasting for the first time. There were many satisfactory hums and excited, contagious gossip about what they liked most about a particular dish. They found pizzas fun and easy to eat while the pie was a wonderful layer of mashed potato, fish filling and golden crust goodness — a combination they had never encountered before but acquired an instant taste for.

While you were sipping on a coconut milk drink between cooking sessions, some of the crew were eying you curiously but tried to make it seem as though they weren’t blatantly staring. It was quite endearing actually. You gestured to a particularly starry-eyed crew member and kindly motioned him over. Elpenor with his fluffy brunette hair, cacao eyes and bronze skin approaches with a small, shy smile, closely followed by his slightly taller friend, who sported wavy blonde hair that came down to his chin and greyish-blue eyes. 

“I go by Elpenor, fair maiden,” the broad-shouldered brunette introduces with a bow when he comes to stand before your curiously tilted head. You remember him as the one who unfortunately died after getting drunk and falling off of Circe’s palace in the musical. It was your guess that the man who followed him was his friend Perimedes. 

“And they call me Perimedes,” the musical portrayed Perimedes as a man who hides his true emotions, appearing nonchalant and jovial despite his depressed disposition. You can't help but feel an aching pinch in your heart for the man. Before you could realise it, your hand reaches up and cups his cheek, softly stroking your thumb over his stumble comfortingly. Perimedes’ grey-blue eyes widen and he frantically looks to Elpenor who grins widely at him, happy to see his friend be treated softly. “U-Umm… is everything well, fair maiden?” Perimedes asks, looking uncomfortable at your touch, but doesn’t pull away; rather, you feel him tilt his head towards your touch. You suppose his bad habit of hiding his true feelings persists and Elpenor, being his closest friend, remains close to him as a result. Both have become each other’s rock.

Shaking your head, you smile assuringly and slowly bring your hand back, giggling with Elpenor at the unknowing whine the taller blonde let out from the loss of your touch. Quickly, you offer the two your large glass of coconut milk and giggle when their eyes comically bulge in surprise.

“Are you offering it to us?” Elpenor asks with wide eyes, hesitant to proceed. Surely accepting would be crossing the line. But you nod eagerly and softly thrust the drink towards him and Perimedes once again. 

“W-we can’t accept,“ Perimedes begins as Elpenor nods along, stepping back with his friend. Both are unable to stomach the sad look in your eyes and the pout that plays on your lips when you see them back away, and they look to the side in shame. Why was it so painful to watch you frown because of them? “That was your drink, fair maiden,” both sides continue to insist on their stance and it would have continued if it weren’t for Eurylochus walking up from where he was observing the scene with Odysseus and Polites, both of whom wanted to laugh at the situation. 

“You two have no authority to refuse the fair maiden’s kindness,” Eurylochus’ booming voice begins, making the two freeze up, “if she sees it fit to share with you, then you must accept. It’s rude to do otherwise,” you smile gratefully at Eurylochus who’s hard expression softens considerably in return and brings up a hand to pat your head. You’re much shorter than him and he finds that the difference has influenced the large feeling of responsibility and protectiveness he feels over you. “Well?!” his hard expression returns when he faces a slack-jawed Elpenor and Perimedes. 

“Then we kindly accept,” Perimedes begins, bowing at the waist with Elpenor quickly following. The large glass, even though you’ve already had your fill still had enough for both of them and you seemed happy to hand it over. Perimedes offers it to Elpenor who takes the first sip and immediately takes a liking to it. The bronze-skinned youth eagerly offers the drink to his taller friend before he’s even formed the words to praise such a refreshing, milky drink. 

“…It’s delicious! Go ahead and try it, my friend!” 

You and Eurylochus watch in satisfaction as the two don’t stop at just sharing with each other but move to their crew members so that they can have a sip too. Seeing what would happen next, you go about making more coconut milk drinks and hand one to Eurylochus to take back and share with Odysseus and Polites just as Elpenor returns asking for more on behalf of the other crew members. Looking over his shoulder, you smile at the crew members’ eager eyes but shy demeanours. These hardened men could act rather cute if they wanted to. 

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

In the days that you have been on the ship, excited rumours about your potential association with the gods have yet to stop circulating, which was beginning to worry Odysseus. You’re mainly associated with Demeter, Dionysus and even his great-grandfather, Hermes, who was rumoured to have delivered you as divine intervention. You were adamant at denying all rumours and Odysseus did his best to suppress the talk but it wasn’t very effective. The rumours haven’t caused any response from the gods but Odysseus knew that it would only be a matter of time. 

As the sun set on the horizon, a chill took to the air and raised goosebumps across your exposed arms but you couldn’t get over how beautiful the ocean looked with the setting sun. You were undeterred. Now that all the men were fed for the day, you took the alone time to enjoy the scenery and plan for what you should cook tomorrow based on the ingredients you had in your storage. You weren’t anxious about the supply; your endless gameplay had kept you well stocked, and you were happy to share the food with the men who truly needed it for a safe and smooth journey home. Looking into the distance, your eyes squint at a growing speck as it floats in front of the setting sun and its vermillion rays. 

A bird? Did that mean land was close by? How come it was alone?

As the speck got closer, you could make out its majestic wings and smooth body, flying through the air so silently, you’re certain you would be oblivious to its approach if it didn’t catch your eye when it was still a speck in the distance. When the bird was close enough, your eyes widened in shock when you realised that it wasn’t just an ordinary bird. Perched on the sails before you was an elegant snow owl. There’s only one owl you know of in EPIC: the musical.

“Athena!” your voice comes out easily and you gasp. It’s been so long since you’ve last spoken or heard your own voice but you were happy to have it back. Observing your surroundings, you quickly gather that you’re in the goddess’s time dimension. 

“Explain yourself, mortal,” Athena doesn’t waste time and, although her tall stature and piercing eyes are intimidating, you’re only filled with awe, “rumours of your association with the gods have reached Olympus and it’s causing quite the stir. Are you plotting against my champion?” 

She begins to raise her sword, aiming for your neck but you step away with your hands raised in surrender, quick to defend yourself, “No no! You misunderstand! I only want to help everyone get home safely,” The goddess eyes you with suspicion for a moment. She feels no malice in your voice or stance and, satisfied that you mean no real harm, she lowers her sword in an act of trust. 

“What is this talk of you having powers of a god? If you continue to cause a fuss, you will draw too much attention and endanger Odysseus’ journey home. This was his chance at a better future, avoiding the original entirely — I will not allow you to get in the way,” 

“I understand,” you nod and smile kindly despite her glare, “I’m happy Odysseus has you guiding him still,” the goddess arches a curious brow at you. She has her suspicions about your powers but to think you were knowledgeable of recent events too was quite alarming. How much do you know? “I promise that I have no ulterior motives. I sincerely wish to help Odysseus and his crew get home safely. I admire the King very much, he deserves to be happy, he deserves to return to his wife and son without delay,” 

“Who are you?” Athena has yet to feel a drop of deceit from your exchange and her self-reflections following the viewing of a potential future have led her to trust in her champion more. The goddess has also learned to be more lenient regarding his human characteristics. As a goddess, she is ignorant of such shortcomings but owes him the consideration. She was ashamed for the way she acted towards someone she had blessed, abandoning him when he needed her most, staying only for when he did her bidding.

When Athena had watched herself fight for her former champion and the friend she had found in his son— all so that Odysseus may escape Calypso’s island —the goddess was left unsatisfied. It wasn’t enough of a redemption for her. With this new chance, she has sworn to balance being a better friend to Odysseus with being his mentor — she dares not narrow-mindedly renounce their relationship. Ever. And this means confronting the potential threat he had invited onto his ship. 

“I am a normal person who wants to do the right thing and help her favourite characters get their happy endings,” the oddity of your statement slips your mind and Athena, being the goddess of wisdom, urges you to elaborate, seeking to understand your unusual blend of words. So you inform her of all you know, omitting some things so that your explanation doesn’t become too complicated with the saturation of unnecessary embellishments. 

“You mean to say you come from another universe entirely?” Athena hums to herself as you nod along, “And you say you’ve brought with you the skills you had acquired through long hours of work from that other world?” That was certainly one way of putting it but it’ll do. “And that this world only exists as fiction in yours, hence why you know what may happen…”

“Yes,”

“Then answer me this, how did you manage to get here?”

You shrug, “I’m afraid I don’t know, Goddess Athena,”

“If you do not know how you got here, you won’t know how to get back,” her words make you face a reality you had been hiding from ever since your arrival. Admittedly, cooking and feeding the crew had been your way of avoiding the obvious problem you didn’t want to confront. It filled you with a deep sense of dread and an uncomfortable restlessness you couldn’t shake. You don’t know how to get home and that uncertainty makes it difficult to envision a future where you can return home again.

“…I suppose I’ll be staying here until I find a way home then,” you laugh to yourself humourlessly, adopting Polites’ optimism and earning a sigh from Athena.

“As long as you don’t bring harm to Odysseus, I will ensure that the gods don’t get too curious,” her words make you smile and nod happily. That was an assurance you will eagerly accept.

“Thank you so much,” Athena offers a kind smile and bows to peer down at you more intimately. 

“No need for thanks; we share a similar objective, mortal,” you nod with determination swimming in your eyes and you can slightly trace the goddess' smile in the shadow of her helmet, “get Odysseus home safely,”

⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

Early the next day, just as you’re finishing up your morning food deliveries to the other ships, you spot something in the distance. An island. When Polites and Eurylochus carefully escort you back to Odysseus’ primary ship, you go straight to the Captain, who appears to have already spotted the island on the horizon. 

“I’m tempted to dock on that island to see if we can replenish some supplies,” you nod beside him, “oh, so you agree?” you nod again, smiling brightly and tugging on his robes in your eagerness. The closer you sail to the island, the more you recognise it. Rather, you recognise the carefully planned terraforming you had mapped out before commencing your revamp, evacuating your villagers’ homes to the sandy beaches but it appears as though their homes no longer exist there. The island’s structures remain, however. You remember the trees you had carefully placed, the crop fields you had set up and were about to fence, the beaten paths you charted, the lake and rivers you shovelled, and the elevated areas you had dotted with vines for easy climbing access. You wonder, if not your villagers’ homes, if your home would be there too…

“Are we anchoring at that island Captain?” Eurylochus asks, having spotted your island too. 

“Yes, we are,” Odysseus looks at you with eyes full of certainty. If you were confident to anchor at the island, he was willing to trust your judgement, “give the orders, full speed ahead,”

“Yes Sir!” Eurylochus turns to the crew and orders them to the oars, directing their rowing towards the lush island ahead. Odysseus offers his hand, which you readily take and he leads you to the front of the ship, and you observe the island’s fast approach. 

“I wonder why you are so eager to anchor there,” he eyes you with playful suspicion, “is it a trap? Do you have an ulterior motive after all?” you pull an offended look and lightly slap his shoulder, waving your finger in his face as he laughs brightly. “Alright! I trust you, I trust you,” he takes a step back and bows to you once more. Odysseus has bowed to you many times out of gratitude but never has he once kissed your hand like many other crew members. It just shows his devotion to his wife and your admiration for him grows from the thought. 

Polites soon joins the two of you and jokes with Odysseus for a moment, the both of them happy to finally set foot on stable ground. It was nice to see Polites alive and thriving and to see Odysseus not being pushed into becoming a monster. They both deserved better than the original timeline, and you were privileged enough to have a front-row seat, playing an active role in ensuring that they returned to Ithaca safely. 

“I have a feeling that this island is special to you somehow,” Polites notes. Out of the three, he’s been the one with the most sense of understanding your intentions wordlessly. It made his company and presence a huge comfort to you. Seeing your eager nod, Polites grins, “I see! The island is special to you! Is it your home? Is it your island?” you nod again and the two give a curious look, both wondering how you got from your island to their ship via your wooden storage thing. But they don’t press for answers, content in their trust for you. You’ve given them no reason to be distrustful so following in your directions feels natural. 

It isn’t long before Odysseus’ ship finally anchors at the humble pier permanently affixed to your island, usually occupied by Kapp’n but the turtle creature is nowhere to be found. Having become attached to you, Elpenor and Perimedes readily volunteer to help you down after all the men have made their inelegant jump from the ship’s elevated deck floor. Elpenor jumps down first and outstretches his arms to catch you. For being the youngest crew member, he was rather muscly and robust, similar to Odysseus’ strong build but his physique had yet to mature into Odysseus’ equal. 

“Are you ready, fair maiden?” Perimedes asks, his smile coming across much easier and with little to hide. You wonder if it had something to do with his new love of pizza and coconut milk. Nodding, you place your hands on his shoulders while he grips your waist and lifts you with ease. He settles you on the ledge first and joins you again before guiding your arms around his neck as he holds you up from your back and under your knees, dangling you over the edge as Elpenor frantically positions himself beneath you. However, the bashful youth is quick to shut his eyes when he realises he’s able to look up your skirt. His friend’s misplaced arm has allowed the lower part of your skirt to fall open to those below. “Don’t close your eyes! Are you an idiot?!” Perimedes scolds as you both giggle at his flustered friend below. 

“I would be seeing a very private view of our fair maiden. I dare not open my eyes and violate her so!” Elpenor moves about nervously but quickly follows Perimedes’ direction when he guides him to stand in the perfect position to catch you. 

“That’s perfect, now stretch out your arms and be ready to catch our fair maiden! She’s our precious cargo! Handle her with care!” Elpenor does as he’s told and nervously anticipates your fall into his arms as Perimedes counts down from three.

The two have caused such a fuss that several crew members begin to watch nervously, and the number of spectators has grown to a considerable amount as more and more ships anchor at your island’s shores. Even Odysseus, Eurylochus and Polites were watching, all three shaking their heads at the ridiculous antics the two were doing, Polites, however, were more nervous than the first two. He’s grown very fond of you in the short few days you’ve been abroad the ship and he shudders to think of you ever becoming injured. Aware of all the eyes watching you, you tuck your chin in sheepishly.

After reaching one on his countdown, Perimedes lets you go and you fall effortlessly directly into Elpenor’s arms. It was an exhilarating trip down and, in your excitement and princess-type treatment, you kiss Elpenor’s cheek as a ‘job well done’ when he begins to set you down. His laugh of relief immediately stops at the affectionate gesture and he blushes a ruby red as you walk along the pier, oblivious to the shocked expression of the other crew members who watched the whole thing. Odysseus was laughing into his hand, amused by the flustered look on Elpenor’s face and the jealous expression on the surrounding men. Eurylochus, in his amusement, tried to suppress a grin and Polites shook his head, sighing good-naturedly. Everyone was then a witness to the most endearing image they’ve seen of you. 

You had spotted the way you looked in the water and, seeing your custom dress design in real life was so fun that you picked up your dress skirt and leaned forward to admire your handiwork. Everyone can see your beautiful smile and the delight in your swaying movements, you even do a twirl with a light giggle and it’s clear everyone’s grown enamoured by you. 

“Maybe she’s actually a descendant of Aphrodite?” Odysseus jokes, making Eurylochus laugh while Polites nods in agreement. 

“I don’t think that’s too far from the truth,”

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next | three. the new island →

a/n : that final scene is inspired by Disney Cinderella where she’s magicked her new dress and looks at herself in the well – reader is a fair maiden meaning she is now a disney princess! Also, I know that there are some mixed interpretations of Elpenor and Perimedis and this is my interpretation of them. I did my best to keep talk of their looks not so detailed but you are free to imagine them however you like. (I think I was influenced by Neal Illustrations’ Apollo in God Games for Perimedes though… and Elpenor is kinda based on Ximena Natzel’s Odysseus in Appetite… so do with that what you will)

Thank you also to everyone who has expressed their love and support for this unserious fanfic, I adore you so much! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

[leighsartworks216]

Skeletons In The Closet

dragon!Sylus x blind!oracle!Reader

Series Masterlist - Chapter One - Prev Chapter - Next Chapter

I really need to make a reminder to update this on Thursdays. My fault for deciding to post it on a Thursday and keep up a weekly schedule I guess

Warnings: death, manhandling

Word Count: 1,066

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AO3

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You wander the winding tunnels of Jewel’s home, tracing a hand along the wall to keep yourself oriented as you listen out for him. You haven’t noticed his presence around all day. He’s probably not here right now. Still, you don’t risk calling out for him, especially when you’ve been provided the perfect opportunity to snoop.

The chill doesn’t seep in so deeply anymore. With new clothes and shoes (new to you, anyway), your feet are protected and you are quite comfortable. Sleeping on the hard rock isn’t doing you any favors, nor the odd smell clinging to the clothes, but, one thing at a time.

Your hand slips from rock to cloth. Scratchy, woven threads form a tapestry, lined on the edges with soft tassels. You can feel a hole hidden behind it. You push it aside and duck under, tassels gently brushing your head as you step into the strange room.

The air is immediately heavier. It’s thick with a strong, rancid odor that has you covering your nose right away. You can’t place it at all.

You step carefully forward, keeping your foot low to the floor and feeling for anything solid that you could step on or fall over. It’s clear for the first few feet. The further in you go, the stronger the smell is.

Something clunks as you knock it with your foot. You stop abruptly and slowly crouch down to feel it. It’s long and dry, thin, but solid, with tough balls at the ends. Your brows pinch together as you try to figure out what it is. You reach out and find another. Several more - all of different sizes. Amongst them is something rounded. You lift it in both hands, turning it over and over, until you find something jagged along one of its surfaces.

You hold it by either side of the uneven surface. The ridges of it seem to be symmetrical, digging into your wrapped palms in the same way. You trail your thumbs along it, trying to make any sense of this object. It’s just as dry as the other ones, but why is it shaped like this? It feels like it has two holes mirroring each other, but the holes don’t go all the way through. The divots inside are smooth. Another hole rests between them, but it is jagged and uneven. A little ways further down, ridges, also uneven, with some sharp and some flat, lining the item.

You slowly trace back up it. Clarity suddenly hits you.

You cry out and toss it down, falling backward in shock. It clatters hollowly amongst a pile of bones. Human bones.

“Now what are you doing all the way down here?” The deep voice cuts into your fear. It trails a sharp claw down your spine. Twists the terror languidly around a finger, relishing in the way you cower away from him and into the pile of bones. You flinch away from touching them.

Heavy footfalls announce his approach. They’re not fast. They’re casual, taking their time, as a predator to a cornered prey.

“Why- Why do you have these?” The question comes out shaky and half-formed, dazed as you try to figure out what he’ll do next. “Did you…?”

He scoffs. “Use your words, pet.”

The words taste bitter on your tongue. “Did you kill these people…?”

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in his answer. No remorse, no doubts. Your blood runs cold. “Does that bother you?”

“Why did you kill them? You can’t just kill people!”

“They wanted to kill me first. How about now? Am I justified?” A sharp hand grabs you by the collar of your clothes, pulling you roughly to your feet and pushing you ahead of him. It’s not a human hand. It’s not soft where it touches you.

You struggle against his hold, but it’s a futile endeavor. The tapestry scratches at your face as you’re forced through it. Your feet struggle to keep up. “Hng- Let me go! Why did they want to kill you?! What are you?!”

The stairs are the most unforgiving. You can’t take each step fast enough for him. As such, your feet get beaten up on each ledge, scraped on the rough stone anywhere your feet aren’t covered. You realize with a sinking gut that the clothes you wear now are most definitely from the bodies in that room.

You’re thrown to the floor suddenly, on top of a thin cloth. You quickly recognize it as the scrap of fabric you sleep on each night you’ve been here so far.

“I’m a fiend,” he answers lowly, dangerously, daring you to be afraid because it’s what he wants. He wants you to fear that word, and all the weight behind it.

It’s not a word one hears used lightly back in the city. Devils, demons, dragons, fiends - all names for the beasts that are said to one day destroy the world. It’s a prophecy as old as the city, perhaps older. As a child, you were warned to stay vigilant for the coming of the end, of doomsday. If you ever heard any news relating to its arrival, you were told to report it immediately.

The one time you do, you’re forced to run for your life…

And here he is - the bringer of the End. Casting his shadow over your cowering body. Hiding literal skeletons in his closet. Was his prophecy trying to tell you about the end of Philos, too?

He leaves you in your silence. You feel his shadow shift, hear his boots walk away. All you have left is the thin sheet and your thoughts to keep you company.

“Am I justified?” That phrase rings in your ear as you huddle into the corner, doing your damndest to ignore the feeling of something creeping up behind you. The innate fear of being attacked from behind. Your ears strain in the silence to listen out for him.

“Am I justified?” He killed all of those people. Probably more. Is the murder of so many people justified?

“They wanted to kill me first.” Can you trust him at his word? He’s a fiend - how can you trust a fiend not to lie? Though, you can’t recall him lying to you before. So much as you can tell, anyway.

“They wanted to kill me first. How about now? Am I justified?”

Is he…?

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @burningtrashgentleman @nothankyew @terriblesoup @jeleryyy

[winterzsurprise]

Change My Mind [7]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 8.6k

IM BACK

laptop problem is solved. Rushed to finish this so this shit ain't beta read nor proofed, that's for Vuinterro of tomorrow to stress about.

also, what do you all think about having purely the boys' pov at some point in the story? Been thinking about having the boys' perspectives once the courting starts but that's prolly just me

lastly, enjoy this chapter. I hope my tired mind was able to write my vision down clearly, I'll fix the mistakes and add more details later on. Pls comment or like, I'm in desperate need for validation lmao

<<Prev || Masterlist || Next>>

______

Jung Hoseok is not scared.

Sure he screams bloody mary at the sight of bugs a thousand times smaller than him, and yeah he’s easily startled but he’s not scared.

Especially not by a piece of paper, that would be ridiculous!

The reason he went to his noona’s house instead of heading straight to the dorms after the news broke out that his Seokjin hyung is tethered to you is because she needed his help on something, and being the dutiful brother he is, swooped in to save the day!

“At least wash the dishes for me if you’re going to hide in my house because you’re being a scaredy cat,” Jiwoo says from the kitchen archway, leaning on the wall with her arms crossed. “I still don’t get why you’re so scared of a piece of paper. The most it’ll do is give you a small cut.”

“Well, that ‘small cut’ still stings a lot!” He argued back, pulling the throw pillow closer to his chest. “And I’m not scared!”

It was irrational how he’s getting cold feet at the thought of the blood result. It’s not like he was hoping to see anything other than ‘negative’ there. 

Jimin would argue that he’s being pessimistic for thinking so but it was the obvious answer if you looked at his family tree. 

From his grandparents’ parents and down to him and his sister, there hasn’t been a single tethered from his bloodline like most of the world’s population. Unlike his Jin hyung who at least had one distant cousin who got a soulmate or his Yoongi hyung who at least had his grandparents as soulmates, his family was barren from such a blessing. His grandpa had joked once, saying their family was cursed for never birthing a single tethered. Ever.

Not even with the people they ended up had ever resulted in having a tethered no matter their family background..

For him to turn out to be a part of your nexus would be a miracle of the highest degree that would make the tales in the bible pale in comparison.

Daring to have himself tested is stupid, he already knew the result and submitting his DNA meant he was hoping.

But hope is nothing in the face of facts, he should be wishing instead; prayer sticks, shaman blessings and all that.

Hoseok knew he was being greedy, wishing to be a part of a nexus relationship as crowded as yours. Growing up with the rest, he knew how much of a handful Jungkook can be on his own, matched with Jimin who now possesses bottomless energy, he has no business trying to squeeze himself in places he can’t fit in. 

Sometimes he thinks he’s being influenced by the fact that he’s being singled out in the group. Now that their oldest has joined the harem, being the odd one out oddly felt ostracizing, being subjected to Taehyung and Jungkook discussing courting gifts, and Yoongi talking to Namjoon about their soulmarks shouldn’t have made him feel bitter but it did. 

“You saying that while pouting on my couch, miles away from your friends who now have your exam result, is not helping your case.”

“If you don’t have anything nice to say to your brother, you shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I’m saying a lot because I care about you. This,” She says, motioning to him to which he replied with an offended look. “Isn’t healthy. The more you’re hiding away, the more this will haunt you.”

“You’re just saying that because you’ll have hyung over soon.”

“That I am, so just get your shit together and go! I planned a night for us but I had to move it because of you.” She shot back but he knew it had no actual snark behind it. She had welcomed him with warm arms after all.

Hoseok had seen how his friends slowly fell in love with you while he continued to look at you and see a best friend. Seeing how everyone seems to have been captured by you, he got curious.

For a long time since debut, Hoseok had stopped perfecting his craft and pursuing his aspirations to pay attention to someone else. It was uncommon but he too once wished for a soulmate until practice, video shoots, and music production began to eat up most of his time and he forgot about his initial wish.

Seeing his brothers be taken by their best friend, his crush, he couldn't help but be curious how it came to be.

Was it because you were closer to their age and, for the lack of better terms, accessible to them that they had begun to seek the comfort of a lover in you?

“Do you think because she's also been busy with us that she began to seek comfort with us too?”

“Tae, just eat your breakfast.”

It was such a random thought from Tae one random morning, and Hoseok would’ve brushed it off like the other time he gets struck with an idea but this one stuck to him like an annoying ex. The idea loomed over him the whole journey to the company and back home. He grew hypersensitive to how he approached you since that morning and he began to notice the miniscule details he would’ve shrugged off any other day. 

From how your touches would linger on their skin, how you’d comfortably lean in closer to them without batting a single eye at how unusual it may seem to others, he took note of them all. It was how he knew their leader’s feelings for you, even if the man himself hadn't noticed it yet. 

Hoseok found his proof in Namjoon’s eyes that restlessly roamed the room until he’d find you in the bustle of the staff. It was also in the way he’d always reach out for you, may it be when you’d turn to leave and he’d catch a drama-esque scene where instead of calling out for your name, Namjoon would reach for your hand and speak to you with that soft look in his eyes and the genuineness in the dip of his dimples when he smiles.

Eyes never lie nor do the dimples on his cheeks whenever he grins, even when the beholder hasn’t realized it yet.

It was then did he realise how odd your relationship is with them and decided to take a step back to draw a line. 

Friends, especially ones whose gender are opposite of each other, aren’t supposed to be as touchy and comfortable the way you and his brothers are. You didn’t say anything when you noticed and wordlessly respected his decision. He was firm on drawing the line, his sister had questioned his actions but he’s determined, nothing is going to stop him from going back on his decision.

At least until he got sick.

Without any of his brothers available to tend to him as they had to leave for Japan the very day he fainted—he had to pass out while talking to the migration officer, so embarrassing!—, he thought he'd power through it alone for a few days. But then you volunteered to stay back to take care of him and everyone just let it happen as if it's normal.

Which is not.

He'd understand taking care of him during the job but to take a leave of absence just to watch over him because his family is unavailable due to the rough weather at the time, in a house far too big for the two of you while the rest flies to another country. It wasn’t appropriate, not normal at all. 

In the haze of his high fever, he had asked you how you were acting as if the situation was normal and in response, you had hit him lightly with the drenched towel you used to wipe his face.

“Don't be ridiculous. You're one of my best friends even if you’ve been acting up these past few days. I'm not about to leave while you're sick and alone in the dorms. If your family could come to Seoul, I would've left with the others so don't overthink. This is just me being a good friend.”

Cooking for him, wiping his face and making sure he's comfortable in bed—It felt far too domestic to be friendly. 

Familial doesn't sound like the right word either. There’s nothing familial about the butterflies in his stomach when you had kissed his forehead good night that day as a joke when Jimin had called you or when you had woken him up the next day.

Oh how beautiful you were that morning.

He knew at that moment that the goddess of beauty had favorites when she made your skin glow softly under the radiance of the rising morning sun like a halo and had your messy bed hair look frustratingly good on you. 

You were borrowing their clothes that day since you had already got your items shipped with the other staff, Taehyung’s white striped polo hung off on you like a dress and Jimin’s red basketball shorts gobbled up your form yet even with the fabrics dwarfing and hiding the curves of your body, he still thinks you’re the cutest sight he has ever had the pleasure of seeing.

You were especially cute in their clothes though.

In his feverish haze, all he could think about was how pleasant it’d be if you were to wake him up every morning like an angel welcoming him to heaven. What he’d give to the world to have you be the first thing he’d see in the morning.

Then you spoke and greeted him in that roughened sweet voice and Hoseok was gone.

Realization immediately had him freezing, tensing up as you let yourself fall across his blanket covered feet to groan about how sleepy you still are after putting down his medicine and breakfast on the bedside table. He hadn’t been able to reply, busy with tampering down the racing heartbeat echoing in his ears. 

Looking back a year later, him falling in love with you wasn’t as odd as he thinks it is, uncommon but still cliche. 

Jiwoo taking the space next to him made him jump, breaking off his line of thought.

“Seriously, just get it over with. The faster you see the result, the faster you can decide whether to move on or not.”

It was the most logical step to take but it felt…wrong somehow. 

He couldn’t imagine a day where he’d look at you and never feel the tickles of butterflies filling his stomach or the warmth your fingers would leave behind after carding through his hair or tilting his chin up to have a better look on his makeup. It felt like an offense to the fates.

Although loving you has its downsides, with your obliviousness to their feelings whether intentional or unintentional often makes him want to pull his hair out, he’d never regret feeling the joy of admiring someone when he’s with you. Hoseok has never felt more motivated to produce music with lyrics far too romantic to come from someone who has never had a lover since pre-debut. Not that you’d see that of course.

He couldn’t remember how many times he found himself wanting to grab you by the shoulders to shake you whenever you teased him about his creations, and hoped it would be enough to let you know that all those cheesy lyrics he had uncharacteristically puked out was all because of you.

“Don’t you go souring your face like that, you know that I’m right.”

“And just because you sound right, doesn’t mean I’m gonna listen to you.”

Jiwoo rolled her eyes and turned to her kitchen, probably to take a pan and hit him upside the head with it or to save herself from seeing the pathetic image of her brother being a fool for love. 

He knew not to hope, he repeated those words to himself but at the same time, he could sense the small, miniscule bead of it hidden within his heart, pushed down to the bottom of the barrel and awaiting its eventual death once he set his eyes on the negative results on his test.

In all of the times he got scared, Jung Hoseok has never been so terrified at the thought of being left out of your nexus. It would be the highest form of torture, a cruelest fate the heavens have dealt. 

How would he function seeing all his brothers do all the things he had imagined himself doing? Due to how sensitive the bond is, he wouldn’t be able to get a feel of your touch for a year, maybe two if the gods deemed it funnier.

What is he going to do then? Die from envy?

He wouldn’t be able to survive, it would ruin him completely. That parasitic feeling would eat him up from the inside and eventually spill out of him, it would damage the relationship he and his brothers had established through hardships and time. Something he too treasured as he does you.

A chime rang out and his eyes immediately fell to his phone on the coffee table. From the familiar set of emojis on the name of the messenger, he reached over to answer to his Yoongi hyung.

           [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: i know what you’re doing            [18:23] Me: i don’t know what i’m even doing right now hyung            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: you may fool the others but im not like them            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: jiwoo had already asked me last week about this problem ur supposed to be fixing so dont even try to lie to me            [18:23] Me: im just worried            [18:23] Me: you know about my family history right? We never had a single tethered so idk what even possessed me to take that test with jin hyung when we already know the answer            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: i think you’ll be surprised            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: not that i’m spoiling or anything, im just saying that if jesus could turn water into rum, then you can be the first tethered in your family            [18:23] Me: well im not a son of god am i?            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: don’t get sassy with me            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: im just saying, miracles can happen            [18:23] Me: i think i already lucked out with our jobs hyung            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: i doubt that            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: come home tomorrow            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: the maknaes are planning a party for you            [18:23] Me: LOLOLOL WHAT            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: they even bought two different cakes            [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: wont spoil what they say             [18:23] MinSyuga🐱: come home if you want know            [18:23] Me: i will 

Despite telling his hyung that he’ll return, he wasn’t sure if he’s going through that decision just yet.

“Did you at least bring a change of clothes with you?” Jiwoo chimes, reappearing from the kitchen archway.

“What if I don’t have any?”

“Then you’re sleeping in those.”

Despite her words, she eventually pulls out a pair of pajamas from her boyfriend’s temporary side of the closet for him to borrow. Sleeping that night was far from being an easy task when he could read and see from the images the maknaes are spamming the group chat, photos ranging from decent captures of moments to a blurry mess where the one holding the phone is running away from a figure that distinctly look like Jimin.

He tried to ignore the nagging feeling at the back of his head and the way his stomach seems to shrunk and eat itself up with every picture and video he sees. He truly does try to ignore the voice judging him for daring to squeeze himself in an already perfect dynamic.

Eventually though, the voices quieten and he falls asleep.

______

Jimin is falling in love with his soulmate. 

It shouldn’t come as a shock to anyone but he's actually falling in love with his soulmate. Tingling butterflies in his stomach, skipping heartbeat, tickling warmth in the chest, the whole mile.

What started off as playful admiration where he’d tease you and lightly tug or pull your hair up while you were putting setting powder on his under eye, quickly developed into a giggly high school romance kind of love where he’d avoid your eyes just so his stomach would stop feeling weird and feel the heat of your touch linger from where you last held him.

Now that he’s thinking about it, the whole thing sounds silly because of course he’s going to fall in love with his soulmate.

The morning started as most mornings have begun for him since Jungkook’s birthday, with your face, bare and naked of any products, and the warmth of your body seeping through the fabric of his clothes. More often than not, he’d find himself coming to consciousness feeling your body weight pressing on his arms or your breath ghosting against his throat and he'd just freeze. 

 Every time it happens, electric shocks would run down his skin and he’d be taking a quick trip to the bathroom to calm his racing heart.

It was insane how often he had to lean over the ceramic sink so early in the morning, breathing heavily to try and ground himself before he reenters the room and sneaks back into his bed, but strictly keeping himself on his side of the pillow fort while careful to take your hand in his once again without waking you up. 

But today, he found himself wishing for time to stop just so he could stare at your face at this very moment.

With the light sheen of the light filtered through the curtains bouncing on one side of your skin giving you an ethereal appearance, he found himself at a loss for words at the beauty presented before him. His eyes traced the lines of the long lashes kissing the apple of your cheeks, the slope of your nose, and down to the plush of your lips. 

Jimin has lost count on how many times he has wondered about how it’d felt pressing against his.

In the peaceful silence of the early mornings, all he did was stare and wait for time to pass while wishing internally for the world to slow just so he could soak in the peace the morning brought.

Eventually though, he had to steer his attention elsewhere. Jimin rolls to the other end to reach for his phone on the bedside table.

He’s been scrolling on his phone for a couple of minutes, lurking in the fandom space—both international and local—when the door creaks open and Taehyung steps in with sleep-lidden eyes and body heavy with lethargy. Forgoing to close the door of their room, he trudged towards the bed like an overworked employee before promptly falling face first to the spot between you and him. He churned in the small space, making himself comfortable by throwing an arm around your blanket-covered form.

For a long while, the only sound in the room came from the occasional videos he plays.

It was weird. Having a soulmate who has multiple soulmates is weird.

He should be feeling disturbed seeing someone cuddle up to his soulmate but he wasn’t. Jimin, contrary to popular belief, is possessive, probably more than Jungkook was in his younger age. Although it wasn’t to the point of killing like people like to showcase in films these days, possessiveness for him is as tame as snaking arms around waists and narrowed eyes. 

Maybe there’s a bit of pulling them aside for a quick reminder in the middle of an event but the point is, he’s possessive. 

But he couldn’t find a single cell in his body who was bothered by the presence of someone else in the room. 

This soulmate thing is weird.

When he laughed at a post, Taehyung dragged himself up to shoulder level just to see what he was laughing at before giggling himself. Suddenly, you push yourself up and turn to them with squinted eyes.

“Good morning, noona.”

“Tae? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, Seokjin hyung sent me up here to wake you both up—”

“It’s still too early!” she groaned, stretching her arms above her head. “I’m not built for working this early!” 

“— he said if you don’t go down before seven, he’ll eat the can of smelly fish you bought for him in Sweden as a joke.”

You paused, the threat successfully shutting you up before you let out an exaggerated groan and dramatically burying yourself back into the pillow.

“Can’t a girl rest? I have a bad headache, and I don’t even know if the beating is Namjoon’s or mine.”

It’s easy to forget how there’s six different soulmarks affecting her all at the same time. From how she’d hear their leader’s heartbeat no matter how far, to the altered taste due to his Seokjin hyung’s mark, and to his Healing Touch. He couldn’t even fathom how much of a nightmare it is sensing everyone.

They eventually dragged themselves down to the dining room after a quick bathroom break. Jin had immediately greeted them with heaps upon heaps of pancakes with maple syrup drooling over the side and scrambled eggs on the table. 

Yoongi and Namjoon were already nursing their cups of coffee on the table—with Joon hyung taking his rightful spot on one end of the table as the leader, Seokjin hyung taking the seat on the opposite side, and Yoongi next to their leader—Seokjin was occupied with his food when they arrived, one scrolling on his phone while the other crazily scribbled on his journal.

“You didn’t even try to at least cook me waffles, hyung. I’m hurt!” He exclaimed and the man rolled his eyes.

“In another life, if you were my soulmate, maybe I would’ve considered it.” Jin then flashed a smile at you before skipping back to the kitchen.

Jimin couldn’t help but notice how you shifted uncomfortably on your seat at the noticeably more generous portion on your plate and he switched his plate with yours, immediately shoving one into his mouth before his hyung returned. An action noticed by everyone in the room.

“Jimin,” Yoongi called out, voice gentle as a whisper. “Give me one.” 

He followed, standing up to bring his plate closer to his hyung and passing it over, adding the eggs into the equation when Yoongi motioned him to add it. Seokjin returns when Jungkook has trudged out of his room and taking the empty space next to Taehyung.

Jungkook immediately noticed the generous amounts on his plate and immediately reached out for two pancakes with his fingers and plopping it down on his plate before taking three more from the middle dish and practically drowning his towers in maple syrup. As if it wasn’t enough, he reached for the softened butter.

When Jin returned, it was with another dishful of bacon and slices of apple. If he noticed the change of plates, he said nothing. 

For a long while, they all occupied themselves with their food. A companionable silence 

“What’s the agenda for today?” Jungkook was the first to break the silence.

“Yoongi hyung is coming with us to buy furniture for noona.” Jimin replied.

Taehyung then stops slicing his pancake and jutted out his lips towards Yoongi’s direction.

“Can I come with you?”

“I need your voice for the new song I’ve been working on.” Namjoon replied, looking up from his journal with a stern stare directed at the pouting boy. “You’ve been gone for so long, I have a couple for you to work on.”

“I can do that tomorrow, hyung. Let me go just for today? Hm?” 

“I can go right? Since you need Tae’s voice instead of mine.” Jungkook sleepily chimed in, eyes still half closed and a hand raised halfway.

“You’ll do the carrying?” Yoongi challenges.

“I’ll even do the talking.”

Jungkook held his gaze with a small, playful grin, waking his face up which Yoongi matched after a couple seconds passed.

“Alright, you’re going with us, kid.”

“I have a touch-based soulmark, I need to come too!” Taehyung argued..

“It's not as drastic as Jimin’s. Even then, you’ve recharged enough.” Seokjin responds, pointing his fork at him.

But before Tae could reply, a shrill notification sound pierced through the air and Y/N pulled her phone out of the pockets of her sleep shorts. Eomma <3

Shit.

Seeing how fast the entertained lilt in her expression drops into dread, the table falls into a hush. As if sensing the approaching tsunami of words from her mother, Yoongi takes his mug and walks out of the room with Seokjin following close behind. 

_____

“What did I hear about you getting a soulmate? You ungrateful child, I carried you for nine months and raised you with my blood, sweat, and tears yet this is how you treat me?!”

That was how your mother had begun the moment you had accepted her call. Her voice, despite being carried through such a small device, had blasted out, her uncontainable rage far too grand to be limited by the phone’s initial features. How a small woman could hold such an explosive anger and powerful voice is a wonder no one in the world has the answer for.

Hearing her voice through the speakers had Seokjin, Yoongi and Namjoon fleeing the scene, but not without karma immediately hitting their leader who had accidentally checked his shoulder on the wall on his way out.

Jungkook followed quickly, dunking his milk in one go and taking his plate with him as he jogged to follow his hyungs, Taehyung behind him.

Jimin had tried to leave but was stopped by both your entangled hands.

“So damn ungrateful you are! Didn't even tell me what was happening, a fucking lawyer knocked on my door and there I find out that my child is tethered. What was my daughter doing to forget to tell HER mother she had soulmates? Why did I have to hear it from someone I don't know?!”

“Did you really think you could leave me alone here?” I whisper-shout at him.

“Noona, let me go. I know we can go for five minutes now.”

“You’re really gonna risk our health for that?”

“At least don’t turn the camera at me, let me hide under the table.”

“Is that my new son-in-law Jimin?” Your mother had chimed, her tone taking a sudden turn. I turned the camera to him despite the insistent shake of head and wide eyes. “When you said you were also trying to find a husband for my daughter, I didn’t think you’d mean you and your brothers!”

“I know right?! Who knew I’d be one of the husbands I’ve been talking about, right auntie?”

“Already talking about marriage, huh? Y/N!” You turn the camera to you and find her smiling so wide you feel your cheeks ache for her. “Your soulmates got good heads on them, already thinking about marriage this early on!”

You shake your head. 

While marriage had once been an issue you lost sleep on, you knew it was impossible to attain as idols. They still got stadiums to perform in, songs to compose and perform for the ARMY. Bangtan would continue on for years as long as they sing and dance or as long as their passion remains alive and roaring. They had worked hard to get where they are now, with the taste of glory and power that comes with their rise in fame, retirement is a far away dream when they’re just getting started. 

Not to mention, your brain still struggles to accept your new reality despite the very apparent a red string connecting you and Yoongi over the table, and hearing Namjoon's heartbeat at the back of your mind. Hoseok hasn’t even checked his test result yet but your mother is already looking decades ahead.

“Ma please, you know that’s after they retire which is thirty years from now.”

“Jimin,” she calls out, lip jutted out in a pout and he leans over to get into the frame. “Are you guys going to make this old woman wait to see her daughter be a bride? I’m not gonna last long you know? My bones hurt every morning and my appetite is beginning to weaken.”

Jimin laughed nervously, eyes wide as he turned to you for help but you're not going to jump in when his face has calmed the raging beast. 

“Don't think for one second that I'm done with you, you ungrateful brat! You haven't even told me why you broke it off with Guwon when he was about to propose!”

“D-does it really matter now?” You winced when Jimin narrowed his eyes at you. Suddenly remembering what was drowned out by the sudden revelation of your soulmate links.

“It doesn't, global popstars sound much better than a lawyer anyway but would it hurt you to tell me what happened exactly? Don't you think your mother deserved an explanation at least after I toiled away trying to find you a husband?!”

“Don't you worry about it anymore, auntie,” Jimin says, voice like a gentle caress trying to tame her fierce anger. “Noona now has seven to care for her now, we'll get to that bridge when it comes but for now, how about we treat you girls to a nice spa out in Jeju?”

“Oh? I wouldn't want to impose on your bonding period, but I'd like to take that offer later. How so nice of you, Jiminie.”

“It’s not the best of gifts but I assure you that there’s plenty to come. Expect a couple of fruit baskets from Yoongi hyung and other stuff too from the others.

“You seven better take care of my daughter, it would be a shame if you all mucked it all up and I have to resent you all.” Your mother sighed, feigning sadness. “Anyways, expect a visit from Soo-in soon dear daughter. She will deliver my heartfelt joy in my stead, your father still needs my help around the house, damn pride of his, he shouldn’t have mindlessly tried to fix the roof himself.”

A shiver wracks down your spine at the thought of your mother’s gift after ghosting her and Soo-in for almost a week now. 

The last time your sister had visited, it was after Jungkook had ‘ran-into-the-sunset’ with you on his shoulder and him covered from head to toe in black. The vile wrench had switched your sugar and salt, hid the lids of your tupperwares, hid lego in your shoes before eventually ending her wickedness by hiding the wires of your charger and the wifi router’s adapter.

If your mother only threatened to hang you upside down, Soo-in made sure everything in life became irritatingly inconvenient.

“She won’t be pinching my ears?”

“She’s classier than that, I raised her first so expect more. I love you, dear daughter! Visit us soon with your seven soulmates!”

__________

[Today, 12:42]            [12:42] The BADDEST💅: so let me get one thing straight and two things gay            [12:42] The BADDEST💅: ur linked with bangtan?            [12:42] The BADDEST💅: THE ENTIRE ROSTER?????            [12:43] The Mother😌: congratulations Y/N, I’m so glad you finally found your soulmates😊            [12:43] The Mother😌: always knew you’d be tethered            [12:43] The PRETTIEST🌸: so who’s the biggest?👀            [12:43] The BADDEST💅: girl I don’t even think you got the libido for two            [12:43] The BADDEST💅: how tf are you gonna handle seven?!?!?!            [12:43] The BADDEST💅: she was in the hospital u fiend @The Prettiest            [12:43] The BADDEST💅: she needs to be worrying about a different type of d to receive            [12:44] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: SHUT IT MINHYUK            [12:44] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: hoseok isn’t confirmed yet so its just six for now            [12:44] The Prettiest🌸: bet you wish he’s your soulmate too            [12:44] The Prettiest🌸: cuz the way that man thrusts his hips in baepsae?            [12:44] The Prettiest🌸: 🥵            [12:44] The Mother😌: have some faith in her, she’ll manage            [12:44] The Mother😌: gift giving for your birthday just got a whole lot easier though😊            [12:44] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: wdym by that @The Mother😟            [12:45] The BADDEST💅: NO BUT SRSLY            [12:45] The BADDEST💅: HOW TF ARE YOU GONNA MANAGE SEVEN            [12:45] The BADDEST💅: ONE DICK PER DAY??? SEVEN DAYS A WEEK??/             [12:45] The BADDEST💅: lowkey wish that for me BUT            [12:45] The BADDEST💅: HOW??????             [12:46] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: MINHYUK PLEASE            [12:46] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: JIMIN IS LITERALLY NEXT TO ME            [12:46] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: NABI CONTROL YOURSELF            [12:46] The PRETTIEST🌸: don’t scold me when ik ur thinking about it too            [12:46] The Mother😌: when’s the soulbinding?            [12:46] Queen Oblivious😮‍💨: Jihae please, its only been a few days            [12:46] The Mother😌: back in my days, people bound themselves and completed the bond on the first day…            [12:47] The PRETTIEST🌸: minhyuk i think you're forgetting the best part out of this            [12:47] The BADDEST💅: wut?            [12:47] The PRETTIEST🌸: imagine Alexa’s reaction when she finds out our dearest Y/N is Seokjin’s real soulmate            [12:47] The BADDEST💅: OH            [12:48] The BADDEST💅: she better HOPE she’s not in bighit anymore the moment the NDA expires            [12:48] The BADDEST💅: im going to be the most annoying fucker she’ll ever meet [Today, 13:02]            [13:02] The BADDEST💅: no but srsly how?            [13:02] The PRETTIEST🌸: R I P that pussy ayee

________

There’s nothing more infuriating than picking furniture with your soulmates, you decided.

Yoongi wanting everything to be practical and of the greatest quality matched with Jungkook’s penchant for only liking soft things, it was hell to be stuck in a furniture warehouse with the both of them. Jimin had never looked so godly when he insisted on letting you pick the brownish-red persian rug to be placed under the wide round canopy bed you had eventually settled with after a long debate with the rapper and the youngest.

What started as Jimin towing you around the shop to place you in front of every furniture before a mischievous grin spread across his lips, and the strength of the bed frames immediately turned sour when you both found your other two companions calmly arguing about the color of the curtains—they both eventually settled with thick white, and beige curtains, to Jungkook’s dismay.

He wanted black-out curtains for when he eventually ends up sleeping in your bed, he claimed.

The current dilemma, however, had you going silent as the prickles of irritation began to itch your skin.

Yoongi wanted to commission a carpenter he knew for a custom desk made for you and is insisting on you to skip shopping for tables and shelves, and take the cheapest one for now but Jungkook thinks it’ll take too long and wanted the boho vanity table set with a huge round mirror with stained glass around the edges. The rapper wanted the place you’d be doing work on, to be built with the practical features while keeping it organized but Jungkook, although he saw his hyung’s vision, refused.

“Imagine waking up with a canopy, great quality bed, amazing decor, then you have to stand up and work on a rackety blue plastic table because you have to wait months for that desk. How does that sound, hyung?”

Jimin not picking sides only added to the pounding headache you’re having.

While you understand both sides of the argument, either of those options didn't make you feel less guilty about having them skip work to spend all this money for your room, even if you knew how barely of a scratch their collective funds will take.

If Taehyung hadn't had the foresight to hide your wallet while you were in the shower with Jimin, the guilt would've been lighter.

You envy Jin who has been prickling your tastebuds with honey glazed fried chicken back in bighit, the lingering taste on your tongue making your stomach uncomfortably churn in hunger.

The disguises could only last for so long before people start noticing how familiar your soulmates’ eyes are, seeing as they’re plastered everywhere in the major cities. For the public to see your hands entangled in the pocket of Jimin’s coat would fuel the press for a year; hell, a century even with how the media moves these days.

As Jungkook’s voice picks up, you reach for the red string and Yoongi halts, looking down at the connecting line before gently grabbing it too.

‘Head hurts’

‘No more’

The rapper lets out an exhale and Jungkook stops.

‘Sorry’

‘Forgive?’

“Ok, so how about we take the set and I commission my guy then we’ll change it out once it's done?”

“Deal.”

Next to you, Jimin sighed in relief. “Thank god that’s settled, I thought I was going crazy listening to them debate on what’s better.”

“I don’t think either of them has ever fought for something they wanted that much.”

You turn to Jimin and a teasing smirk grows on his face.

“They love you like that, noona. Wanted nothing but the best of the best for you.” 

In a different context, you would've easily brushed off his comment but having the warmth of his touch thrum from your hand to your toes, the healing touch always at work, your cheeks flushed dark and you lightly slapped his arm.

Ever dramatic, he clutched his bicep and winced.

“Why are you hurting me like this?”

“Please, we have regeneration as our soulmark. You're barely hurt.”

“I'm gonna bruise and the fans are gonna see it then I'm telling them how much you like hurting me!”

________

When Hoseok arrived it was with a chorus of loud bangs!. The man had leapt at least a foot or two from the shock as confetti rained on him. 

Once he recovered though, he rained curses on the mischievous maknaes—and surprisingly, Yoongi and Namjoon too but they were spared due to one having his hyung privilege and Namjoon having retreated to the kitchen before his hyung had recovered from the shock.

Jin had clapped him in the back when he entered the dining room, fitting the huge and frilly birthday hat on his head and taking a picture of his dumbfounded reaction before the man could even realise what was happening.

Seeing them celebrate such a small thing, an odd feeling settles in your heart. You try not to be a killjoy but you couldn't ignore the mass settling on your gut.

Everything continued on as normal, everyone acted like they had before Jungkook's confession. They find out their links to you and suddenly, the past is behind them. As if you hadn't—although unintentionally—led them on and hadn't rejected three of them. A soul link appears and every fault was forgiven.

It wasn't only you who seemed to be feeling this way though.

Namjoon too it seems, seeing how he had kept his distance. Not in a bad way but rather a respectable, perfectly platonic way. You guessed it'll take long before the information would sink in for the non-believer, he was the one who had treated you more professionally than the others. You'd feel his concerned eyes ever so often but other than that, he'd treat you like a fragile glass.

Never to be touched and never to be perceived too long, fearing the weight of his gaze is enough to make you crumble.

(Or was it just you turning something that was normal before into fuel for your restless mind with the soulmarks now in the picture?)

You knew Namjoon is just having a hard time settling down with the fact that he's in a nexus connection with you but the ugly voice at the back of your head whispered a different tale. All of them are negative and judged far too harshly than you normally do yourself.

Jungkook bets his hyung will break after the third week, Tae says a month, and Jimin slyly says next week. You think it'll take Namjoon at least half a year before he properly processes him being tethered to someone, a non-believer.

The thumb that began to caress your knuckles snapped you out of your thoughts and you immediately found Jimin’s concerned eyes.

“You okay?”

You nod but he knew you better. Luckily, he lets it go.

“Open it, open it!” Jungkook chants, bringing everyone to gather around them.

Hoseok nervously laughed, placing down his car keys, phone, and wallet on the table before flipping the envelope’s flap. 

Unconsciously, you leaned forward as he carefully tears the paper, the sound seeming to echo loudly in the silence of everyone’s nervous anticipation. As his brothers had gone from standing at a respectful distance to noisily looking over the main dancer’s shoulder, Jimin had tugged you closer to join them, standing in front and peering over as Hoseok flips open the first fold.

Then out of nowhere, Yoongi had a burst of energy and screamed.

Everyone jumped at his sudden burst of energy making Hoseok’s hand shoot up to his heart and the three maknaes snapped their head to their hyung. The man in question laughed noiselessly, satisfied with the reaction he garnered.

“Hyung, why did you do that?! I just got out of the hospital and you want to send me back again!”

“You’re practically invincible, what are you talking about?” Yoongi shot back.

“Just open it, all I’m seeing is your information hyung and that’s boring!” Taehyung cuts in. “I already know what your blood type is, your last name—”

“You go open it then—”

His words died on his tongue when Taehyung snatched the paper up from the envelope and pulled it open. But before he could start reading the result, Hoseok took it back.

Waiting as he read through his results felt like watching the presidential race on the tv, heartbeat rising every time the opposing candidate gained more than the man you elected. You worried your bottom lip with your teeth. His eyebrows furrowed, his frown deepening as his eyes wandered lower and you began to panic.

Why are you even nervous? 

Aren't you being too greedy for wanting to have Hobi too?

Hoseok then crumbled into the floor, curling up to himself as he clutched the paper to his chest. Instantly, everyone panics as his heart shattering sobs echoed in the living room.

Suddenly, the colorful decorations hanging on the wall and the balloons scattered on the floor made

“Hoba? What’s wrong?”

“Hyung come on, don’t make me nervous like this!”

“What did it say?”

Jimin falls next to him, your hand momentarily forgotten to comfort his hyung and Jungkook follows, hugging the sobbing man while Seokjin reaches for the crumpled paper peeking out of Hoseok’s curled up form, a grim expression on his face.

“I am writing to inform you of the results of your recent soulmark evaluation and tethered status assessment. After a thorough examination and review of your diagnostic tests, it has been confirmed that you are,” Seokjin takes a deep breath then releases it shakily, a wide smile spreading across his lips. “Indeed tethered.”

You let go of the breath you had unconsciously held in as everyone in the room began to celebrate. Jimin pulled Hoseok to stand, laughing as the man continued to weep before reaching up to fix the birthday cap Seokjin had slipped onto his head. Jungkook, unable to stop himself from ridiculing his hyungs whenever he could, pulled out his phone to record them.

“How do you feel knowing you’re the first ever tethered in your family?”

Taehyung follows by placing his phone under Hoseok’s chin like a mic.

“You must be so happy being the first Jung to have a soulmate since the dawn of time, sir. Please tell us what you’re feeling right now.”

“Get that fucking… camera off my face or I’ll break it.”

Hearing this, Namjoon turns to the maknaes. “Stop teasing him, Seokjin hyung isn’t even done reading it.”

Despite this, Jungkook didn’t stop recording but Taehyung had skipped over to look over Seokjin’s shoulder.

“I think you’ll want to read this one yourself, Hoba.” The oldest says, handing the paper over to the sniffling man.

With his result back in his hand, Hoseok straightened himself, clearing his throat as Jimin gently wipes his tears off of his cheeks.

“This means you have a soulmate, a unique and profound connection that is both rare and significant. Furthermore, based on the characteristics of your soulmark and the energy patterns observed, there is a high probability that your soulmark is of the altering type.”

“They have the technology to figure out the soulmark type too?” Yoongi asks, surprised.

“Unfortunately, the global fated registry haven’t figured out a way to pinpoint what soulmark our patients have. It is with our deepest—”

“Didn’t know that, had mine cancelled when I figured it out before the results came.” Seokjin replied. Beside him, Taehyung pulls up his phone to rapidly type out whatever he had in his mind.

“I wonder what kind of altering mark it is. There’s a lot of documented ones but what if it’s also a new soulmark? A revived one from the 19th century like Jimin’s?”

“That’s unlikely.” Yoongi refutes.

“You don’t know that.”

With the initial elation ebbing away, everyone continued the celebration seated around the dining table where Jimin had parted from you to take out the congratulating cake from the fridge to light up and serve in front of their hyung who had almost toppled over with how hard he laughed seeing it.

Yoongi had insisted they also take out the apologizing cake so it wouldn’t go to waste. Upon hearing this, the group broke out in laughters, unbelieving until Jungkook brings out the ube flavored cake with the sentence “sorry your family nerfed your potential to be a lover boy.” placed on top in red icing.

The excitement never faded away through the night, dinner was lively, as if they had swept the four daesangs on both award shows. But instead of being influenced by the joy you feel down the red line from Yoongi and the practically vibrating maknaes sitting across you who keep cutting through conversations with suggestions on what soulmark their hyung might have, you find yourself standing behind a tall wall.

When everyone cheered and raised their mugs to toast, you only felt yourself mentally retreat further as a mass settled deep in the pit of your gut.

Seeing the men around you with wrists decorated in thick bands of gold that cost more than your yearly wage, faces flawless from careful maintenance, and names carrying the weight of their country’s pride, did you really deserve them? 

You, who was a nobody staff they just happen to gravitate to due to the closeness of age, matched with the members of the world’s biggest boyband. They weren’t just out of your league. You’re the human on earth wishing to reach the stars from another, far away galaxy, yet by fate’s generosity, you were given the chance to see the beauty of them from up close.

How does one come from dating sleazy men with oily hair and faces akin to an infant’s drawing to being tethered to superstars everyone in the world would sacrifice a life for a chance to talk to them?

When everyone had begun to retire for the night, Jimin had silently guided you back to his room. The sensation of him pressing a kiss on your forehead cuts off your thoughts, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug grounding you further.

“Are you with me now, noona?”

“Of course, I always am.” You answered with a scoff, pulling away and he frowned.

“I could sense your feelings the entire dinner, don’t try to lie to me.”

Even in the shades of his room bare of any bright lighting, you feel Jimin stare past your physical body and peer into your soul. In the harsh darkness with only you and him standing in it, you felt exposed, stripped to the barest bone under his gaze.

Never have you ever hated having a soulmate than you do now with someone perceiving your feelings openly, sensing the slightest shift in your mood with a brush of skin. It's annoying, scary yet at the same time relieving that there’s someone who could hear the tune of the noise in your brain. 

Not many people have the same luck you have, seven soulmates with one of them granting you what technically is immortality, who else wins at life like that?

But do you really deserve it? Deserve them?

“Stop that. You deserve this, deserve all of us. If someone thinks otherwise, tell me their name and I’ll go beat them up.”

You laugh. “You can’t do that, that’ll stain your image.”

“I don’t think you understand just how important you are to me, noona.” He says, pulling you closer to him. “Before you think about it, I’ll beat someone up for you with or without the soulmarks.”

The image of someone with the face of an angel and a sweet demeanor like Jimin jumping someone in the parking lot to fight for your honor shouldn’t have made you cackle the way you did. The warm rumbles from your linked hands spread across your body and the thoughts were immediately silenced.

“I know you wouldn’t like it but I’ll be telling the other guys about this. I don’t like how you think you’re undeserving of all this when you do, in fact, deserve this bond after sticking with us through thick and thin. You saw all of our flaws and helped us in our bad days, you may think you haven’t done much to warrant this kind of luck but you do.” 

Jimin pressed his lips on your forehead and your heart skipped a beat.

“Namjoon hyung might have a problem expressing it, Yoongi hyung might not show it openly like Jungkook and Taehyung does, but they share the same sentiment. It’ll take them time to be more expressive so I hope you find it in yourself to be patient. We’re still in the adjusting phase so if anything bothers you, don’t hesitate to tell us.”

Tears were streaming down your face at this point, eyes burning as they poured out like a waterfall. The softness in his voice has eased its way into your heart and dispelled the gloominess surrounding it, replacing it with a crashing wave of relief followed by the warmth provided by the soulmark.

You didn’t realise how much your thoughts had been wearing you down until tonight. Comforted by his words and the tightness of his hug, the dam finally breaks and you falter in his hold.

“Shh, cry it all out, noona.”

“I-I shouldn’t be crying over something so stupid like this.”

He shakes his head. “It's not stupid. Don’t say that.”

There’s a tug on your pinkie and you feel the string grow heavier. Immediately, Yoongi’s concern bleeds into you.

‘Why crying?’

‘What happened?’

“Let’s go lay down, noona. I’m feeling the ache in my muscles bending down like this.” He says lightheartedly, giggling. “Don’t worry about answering the others, I’ll handle it later.”

Guiding you to the bed, Jimin tugs you to fall into his arms and you let yourself be pulled into his chest.

Between the sound of Jimin and Namjoon’s heartbeats, and his fingers tracing slow circles on your back while the other hand massaged your scalp, it was easy to be lulled into sleep. In the echoing sound of your sniffles and hiccups, his sweet humming permeates through the air. His song was familiar yet your sleep addled mind took a second to realise what it was.

Serendipity, your mind eventually supplied.

For a moment, in the solace his arms offered, the world became quiet and you fell asleep, forgetting to worry about what chaos yesterday will bring.

_________

TAGLIST: @wildestdreamsblog @canarystwin @prettywheenicry @jmnscutie @sassy-snassy @misuguru @11thenightwemet11 @yoongibaybee @rinkud @bri602 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @marvel-potter-1d-korea @comingupwithacoolnameishard @sooha-neul @juju-227592 @coffeewanderer @x-uno @diamonddia-mond @eggsysstuff @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @sld88 @katsukis1wife

[writinggremlin]

My main blog was tagged in this last year and I didn't get a notification. Rude. Anygay-- I'll be answering it here because I want to, and also because I plan to maybe reblog with answers for my ocs too.

Egg: Over medium with toast (toad in the hole anyone?) (or as I like to call it, "Egg heart toast", as translated from French), runny yolk sandwich, or the irresistible deviled egg ughhhhh

Steak: It's been a second. Medium well, I believe? Whatever doneness helps make it less chewy.

Milk: 2%. Strawberry. (Tho I do crave plain sometimes, ngl) (If you have strawberry milk powder, mix it with chocolate milk, and die happy)

Alcohol: If I'm at a bar: bartender's choice/surprise me. If I'm buying from the store: Mike's Harder Strawberry Lemonade.

Warm drink: Hot chocolate.

Tags: Open tag! This means I'm tagging you, reader! Even if we don't know each other. If you wish to participate, this is your invitation to join in! However, it's not mandatory, and I wish you a lovely day/night/life either way!

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER SIX

06 : POTIONEER

CHPT. SUM. : Orion is furious at Sirius' sorting and demands he be resorted bringing you and Regulus with him to Hogwarts where you catch a glimpse of Remus and finally remember who Damcoles Belby is. 

LENGTH : 13.1k

TAGS : domestic fluff ; mother-son moment between Sirius and reader ; Regulus is a precious baby ; Orion is a dickhead and a big baby ; fluff ; angst ; hurt/comfort ; Marauders becoming friends ; Damocles and Ruth are couple goals ; reader gets revenge for our baby.

TRIGGER WARNINGS : child abuse ; claustraphobia 

← PREV. 05 : SIRIUS: FIRST DAY | SERIES M.LIST

3rd September 1971

The day before had gone relatively well. Sirius and the other first years in his classes were still fascinated by the castle and its magic so the tour and introductory first lessons in the afternoon went smoothly. The first years were adjusting well. 

Today will be Sirius’ first full day of lessons and, although it’s daunting, his demeanour is exuberant. Knowing that he will be sharing classes with his new group of friends made him all the more excited. The previous night was spent mostly chatting with his dorm mates, being in bed by 10 pm but not sleeping until past midnight. It meant that he was down for breakfast later than what was ideal and to avoid worrying about rushing back to get ready in his dorm, Sirius made sure to get dressed and brought his book bag to breakfast. This was entirely Remus’ idea, which the boys were incredibly thankful to him for suggesting. The soft-spoken brunette was beginning to build a reputation for having a head full of sensible ideas, making up for what the rest of the group lacked. 

Sirius was just about to finish his plateful and reach for a serving of freshly cut fruit when a shadow appeared over him. It was Argus Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts.  

“Can I help you?” Sirius asks, managing to quell his alarm and brace himself for what may come. Surely he wasn’t in trouble for anything already — there couldn’t possibly be anything he could be guilty of. James, Peter, and Remus looked up in curiosity, also having the same unanswered questions on their faces, silently seeking some sort of response to calm their startled nerves. 

“You’re needed at the Headmaster’s office,” Filch announces, his eyes gleaming with amusement at the sight of the group’s unanimous surprise and dread, although his expression remains largely dull and unimpressed. 

“…just me?” Sirius dreaded to ask. 

“Just you,”

“Why?” Sirius’ demand visibly irritates Filch but he answers nonetheless, happy to have done so when he’s rewarded with Sirius’ pale and ghostly expression — an explicit look of horror.

“Your father is here,” the edges of Filch’s lips seem to twitch but ultimately remain in a straight line, neither smirking nor frowning, “shouldn’t keep ‘im waitin’ now,” James was immediately vocal in his protests. He could tell that Sirius was petrified at the thought of his father and immediately assembled the pieces Sirius was willing to divulge the night before on his home life — his mother was supportive but his father was not. James’ bold protectiveness over Sirius was heartwarming, he never had anybody stand up for him against his father much like this. Primarily because not many were a witness to it and Sirius would like to keep it that way as much as possible. His mother protects him now but this was only recently. Before that, Sirius made sure to keep Regulus out of trouble, vowing to protect his little brother and avoid trouble for his sake alone. James’ display was refreshing and touched his heart. And it was what gave Sirius the strength to willingly go with Filch. 

Despite the bubbling dread in his stomach, Sirius keeps his chin high as he’s escorted to Dumbledore’s office. Although fearful at first, the prospect of facing his father at Hogwarts made Sirius more angry than anything else. Yes, he was shocked and, in that shock, terrified,  but for his father to behave so impudently by visiting Hogwarts was highly hypocritical when the man always demeaned Sirius and punished him whenever he behaved or spoke in a disorderly way. Their encounter was surely going to be an explosive one. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Orion was losing his patience. It wasn’t like him to act so brazenly but the current oddness of his wife had been provoking his displeasure. He’s been feeling the unpleasant bubbling for an entire month and endured it all. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that Sirius’ Gryffindor sorting finally made him blow up and throw about the house’s interior in a blind rage. Atop that, Orion had been even more disgraced but in his own home this time; his wife had ordered their filthy, useless house elf to move all her belongings into a spare bedroom. 

They no longer shared a bed. 

Imagine his surprise when, the following morning, he was greeted by his wife and son at the fireplace, ready to floo to Hogsmeade and journey to Hogwarts. 

“Regulus and I will be having breakfast at the Three Broomsticks,” you announced firmly, reminding him of the early hour. He had the open invitation to join you both but Orion refused, demanding that the matter with Sirius was urgent and that there wasn’t any need for breakfast. But he should have listened to his wife. When he charged up to Hogwarts ahead and was greeted by Dumbledore, the wistful headmaster had him wait around until he was finished with his breakfast before Sirius was finally called for, requesting that the Squib caretaker do the retrieving. Now, Orion sat in the office with an empty stomach and only his anger fuelling him. 

“I hope that your boy has had the time to eat his breakfast as well,” Orion looks at the headmaster, stopping his impatient foot tapping when he notices the mysterious gleam in the elderly wizard’s eyes, “we wouldn’t want him going to class with an empty stomach,” 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Orion was an idiot. You had an idiot for a husband. The thought made you roll your eyes and scoff irritably. Men were so pigheaded sometimes, do they even realise how annoying they can be? 

Observing Regulus as he wiped the crumbs off his mouth with a napkin was all you needed to ease your mounting irritation, however. Your sons won’t grow up unpleasantly like that; you know that your boys will be true gentlemen, naturally, with their own personal idiosyncrasies but, unlike your foolish husband, they’ll be chivalrous, well-mannered and receptive, you’ll see to that personally. Orion won’t have any influence over them. This is your new life’s mission now. 

“I’m all done now, Mother,” Regulus announces with a somewhat sheepish smile as you grin with amusement against the lip of your teacup. He knows he didn’t pay the best attention to his etiquette when devouring his plate of breakfast at The Three Broomsticks but you don’t seem to mind so maybe he’ll get away with it… Little did he know that you found him incredibly adorable and enjoyed the way he appeared more like a child his age for once. 

“That’s good, dear,” your calm demeanour and slow actions makes slight panic flash in Regulus’ eyes. He’s concerned at the lack of action, the passing of time and the idea that he won’t be there when his father and brother meet, “we will keep our promise, Regulus, I assure you,” his endearing worry is met with your kind smile, “I’m sure Sirius is enjoying his breakfast right now too,” the growing smirk on your lips begins to reflect on your youngest, who immediately catches onto your cheekiness. 

“I-I suppose father will be going without any breakfast then…” Regulus comments, taking a sip of his apple juice. 

“Darling, who are we to get in the way of your father’s demands? He was ever so insistent,” an amused giggle passes between the two of you and Regulus is finally able to relax a bit. He makes a mental note to write about your uncharacteristic mischief to Sirius in an upcoming letter. He had been meaning to write a letter congratulating Sirius on his sorting but thought it better to voice in person instead after you invited him to Hogwarts under Orion’s furious insistence.

You took some minutes to enjoy the rest of your breakfast before announcing your departure. 

“Come again soon, Mrs Black! Both you and your son are always welcome,” Madam Rosmerta shouts warmly as she waves you and Regulus off with the beer mug she had been polishing. 

“Of course, Madam Rosmerta. Until then, take care!” you call back, smiling happily at the woman. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t account for arriving at Hogwarts castle without a guide ready to escort you from the grand entrance to the Headmaster’s office. It was pure luck that you were spotted by one of your favourite characters and immediately taken to your destination. 

“The headmaster speculated you’d be arriving here,” McGonagall spoke stiffly but warmly in her distinctive Scottish intonation. Following a brief introduction of all parties, she finally begins to lead you and Regulus to the Headmaster’s office. She looked much younger than she did in the films, yet to be worn down by the mischief the marauders cause only to be succeeded by the Weasley twins, coming to wreak the same havoc and closely followed by the golden trio. It was nice to see her modelling such a reliable and tenacious character before Dumbledore manipulates her into becoming hesitant and unreliable, inconstant with her trustworthiness amongst the students. This prestigious school deserved a headmaster who cared for their pupils equally, unswayed by bias – someone fair and trustworthy, not just powerful. In your eyes, that was McGonagall. And you were going to put her in that position yourself. 

“I appreciate that, and I appreciate you coming to collect us,” you voice politely, offering a smile that she appeared taken aback by. She’s been influenced by the rumours as well. Walburga’s magisterial ways and elitism precede her. It was annoying. But, you’ll admit that it’s amusing to see the surprise on people’s faces when you distinguish all those claims personally. Not only are you making a new name for yourself but you also have the satisfaction of tarnishing the bitch in your head’s reputation. That was more fulfilling than anything.     

“It is only the correct thing to do,” 

“Are things always that black and white?” Minerva doesn’t know how to answer your sudden, cryptic comment and you have the slight mind to apologise for your loose lips. Not only was the deputy headmistress caught off guard by the question but she was dumbstruck by the question coming from you, the woman who openly expresses her abhor of muggle borns and blood ‘traitors’ — you and your bloodline were the most ‘black-and-white’ people in wizarding society. To say that McGonagall was speechless was an understatement. To her relief, you breeze past the comment entirely, “I apologise for my husband’s brash behaviour, it’s truly insufferable how audacious he is, sometimes,”  

Clearing her throat, McGonagall goes for the professional response, although she was highly tempted to agree with you, “all parents have a right to have a say in their children’s education,” 

“This goes beyond mere education, professor,” you look into her eyes and are met with agreement, “Surely, you can agree that the matter is useless kicking up such a fuss over and that my husband is entirely wrong. In this matter, I am right in saying he is being an idiot by publicly throwing a tantrum,” you tut in displeasure, “The humiliation of it all is almost unbearable,” at your side, you hear Regulus choke on his laughter and crack a smile, giving his small hand a light squeeze. Finally, McGonagall allows a smirk to stretch across her lips but before she can make any comment of agreement, you’ve already reached the gargoyle entrance to the Headmaster’s office.  

“The password is ‘Pear Drops’,” With a wave of her hand, the gargoyles reveal a spiralling staircase to the Headmaster’s office, “good luck,” she nods at you and you watch as her expression softens ever so slightly to face Regulus and bid him a soft goodbye, “hopefully, our next meeting will be a more pleasant one, down by the great hall on your first year,” Regulus smiles and nods, waving her goodbye. She offers a smile to both of you and turns with a swift swish of her thick, draping robes. McGonagall never expected you to be so warm and pleasant —it’s easy to misjudge the character of a person simply from third-party accounts and retellings. She’ll have to rethink her own prejudices and biases moving forward.  

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Sirius hadn’t arrived yet. As soon as you sat down, Orion was already gritting his teeth, the squareness of his jaw making his frustrations obvious. 

“I told you so,” you voice blankly and with an unamused face to match. Orion didn’t say a word — he couldn’t. He was already facing the consequences of his impatience as his stomach tried to eat itself from hunger. Dumbledore raises a questioning brow at the interaction but doesn’t say anything. Instead, the headmaster turns to Regulus with a kind smile and offers him the latest muggle sweet he’s grown a recent taste for, the password to his office, Pear Drops. 

“Try some, my boy, I promise they’re a delight,” Regulus looks to you, silently asking for permission. 

You smile softly and nod, “Go right ahead dear but you’ve had a rather hearty breakfast, why don’t you save it for a special treat later on?” Regulus nods and reaches for a small handful of the sweets to pocket in the meantime, however, his small, pale hand is smacked away by Orion who hisses angrily through clenched teeth. 

“No son of mine dabbles in any muggle sweets — it’s unbecoming, Regulus!” 

It was thankful that Orion was already clenching his teeth when you slapped him across the face or else he would have bitten straight through his tongue at the force of your firm hand. 

“Touch my son again, and you’ll be falling from the tower without your wand, Orion,” you threaten through clenched teeth of your own as the man stares at you in wide-eyed shock, his expression reflected onto the Headmaster. 

The reddening hand mark on your husband’s pale cheek isn’t nearly enough to contain your rage. Your shoulders and hands shake from the barely contained wrath bubbling in your veins, you don’t even register how your palm was stinging from the slap as well. Rather than divorcing the stinking pile of shit you have for a husband, you’ll end up murdering him instead. Regulus cuddling up to your side was the only thing able to extinguish the violent rage shooting through your bloodstream but seeing the reddening of his small hand from Orion was quickly reigniting the fire within you. 

“You can’t just—” You don’t know what shameless words he planned on stitching together as a poor explanation of his actions but you were having none of it.

“Shut your mouth!” you hiss once more, eyes narrowing at him, “I said he could have some so he’s having some! How dare you publicly cause a commotion like this over Sirius’ sorting andhave the cheek to harm Regulus on top of that! And over muggle sweets?! Have some decorum, Orion! How embarrassing!” Orion appears to shrink in his seat as you lean over more and more with each word. You didn’t see it but Regulus no longer had tears lining the seams of his precious, silver eyes, instead, they were filled with glittering admiration and love at the sight of you defending him. If only Sirius could see their mother like this, he would no longer have any cause for worry about being away at Hogwarts while he stays home. 

“Ahem!” All heads turn to the entrance where Sirius stares on at the scene, wide-eyed and with a delinquent smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. It isn’t until his eyes meet his father’s infuriated ones that Sirius finds the will to conceal his satisfaction. What he had just witnessed was admirable and a laugh desperately tried to push past his lips but he resisted; he was still on the chopping block for his father to rip apart. Although, knowing that you’re also here, eases Sirius’ worries.  

“Sirius,” you breathe with a smile, your expression immediately warming up at the sight of your firstborn. It hasn’t even been a full three days since you’ve last seen him but the effects of missing him were substantial enough that you were able to easily decompress from your heated exchange with Orion. 

“Get over here, boy,” Orion seethes through clenched teeth, his attention averted. Knowing that his son stood before him as a proud Gryffindor and without an ounce of regret for the shame he has befallen their family makes the patriarch clench his fist so hard that his knuckles turn a paper-white. Sirius doesn’t move, he doesn’t even spare him a glance and when Orion follows his son’s gaze, he’s surprised to note that his gaze is fixed on his mother. 

“Feel free to take any available seat,” Dumbledore offers kindly, observing the scene with a curious glint in his eyes. 

“Please come and sit with your brother and me, dear,” you barely finish your words before Sirius moves across the Headmaster’s office to sit beside Regulus, who has promptly pulled away from you to admire his brother. 

“Thank you for arriving so promptly, Sirius,” Dumbledore begins, eyeing the substantial gap between the two parents before settling his twinkling gaze over the first year, “I hope your breakfast wasn’t interrupted too terribly by the sudden meeting,”

Sirius offers polite understanding over the disruption to his morning despite it only being the third day of school. At the sight of Sirius’ clenching and unclenching fists, you can tell that seeing his father was an annoyance, however, you’re proud of his ability to school his expression. He’s already grown up so much…

Giving a slow nod, Dumbledore directs everyone’s attention to Orion, who was barely holding himself together at the unnecessary —in his eyes only — exchange of pleasantries, “Your father has some troubles over your sorting,”

Sirius pays his father no mind as the pathetic man slams his hardened fist against Dumbledore’s wooden desk, “I DEMAND THAT THE SORTING BE REDONE! THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!” the frightening volume of your reprehensible husband’s words makes Regulus’ shoulders shake but you and Sirius were there for him. Flanked on either side of the youngest, you were able to bring Regulus into your side for a comforting sideways embrace while Sirius reached over to console his brother by threading their fingers together and clasping his hand tightly. Regulus immediately begins to calm down and smiles to himself at the warm feeling of protection surrounding him. 

“…It cannot be done, Mr Black,” Dumbledore states matter-of-factly in a serene voice that bodes no fear for the wrath of your husband. 

“EXCUSE ME?! CLEARLY THIS WAS A MISTAKE—”

“The sorting hat makes no mistakes,” Dumbledore was so firm in his statement, that Orion was left stammering with disbelief. It makes you smirk with a sort of evil satisfaction. What will he say next? 

“That’s impossible! For that tattered old thing to have made no mistakes whatsoever?!” Orion finally has the decency to lower his voice though, not by much. 

“You are free to doubt the sorting hat as you wish Mr Black but it is indisputable and Sirius will not be resorted,”

“Of course not!” you pipe up, pinning your husband with a harsh glare, “For the sake of your own ego and pride, Orion, how could you demand such a thing? This whole fiasco is far more embarrassing than our son being sorted into the house of bravery and courage. Get over yourself. Our son will miss his lesson at this rate. I apologise, headmaster, for my husband’s shameful behaviour, I assure you that my son will behave far more gracefully,” turning away from your staggering husband and the amused headmaster, you look at Sirius with pride. Leaning over Regulus to press a kiss onto his older brother’s forehead he’s able to hear your tender whisper of pride, “I’m so proud of you, darling,”

You leave a humiliated, red-faced Orion to argue with Dumbledore, who handles the overgrown baby’s temper tantrum with grace. It was much appreciated and you were willing to applaud the old wizard if it weren’t for your existing hatred and secret plot to rid him of his position as headmaster. You’ve led Sirius and Regulus to stand quite a distance away from the two so that you could share a private moment, the attention mainly pointed towards your grinning firstborn. 

“Have you received the gift I sent you?” you ask in a whisper as you hold Sirius in a loving embrace, his arms wrap around your shoulders and he presses his nose into your loose hair — you smell like a mixture of milky vanilla, calming lavender, fruity current and flowery jasmine, it’s not like any fragrance he’s ever smelled on you but he’s grown to find comfort in it. He nods and you silently ask for the pin’s whereabouts. 

Sirius reaches into the breast pocket of his school robes, now embellished with the colours of Gryffindor, daring red and enchanting gold. He brings up his fist and unfurls his fingers to reveal the unworn pin. From the side, Regulus gasps at the beauty of such a small and intricate accessory. Smiling, you read off the personal message you engraved on the back before fastening the pin onto his grey cardigan, “A shield to protect my brave, daring and noble son,” you lean back and give him a once over. Sirius can see the visible lining of tears that gather at the edges of your waterline and his breath stills — it was one thing to read of your happiness and pride for his accomplishment at being sorted into Gryffindor but it was another thing entirely to hear the words from you firsthand and to watch as happy tears blur your vision. Sirius has never seen his mother be so happy and proud that she begins to tear up, Regulus hasn’t either and both stare at you in wonderment. Sirius feels as though he would begin to cry himself but refrains from doing so when Regulus looks at him with a bright grin and glimmering eyes of admiration. Regulus was proud and happy for him too…  

Reaching forward, you pat down the lapels of Sirius’ robes, “goodness, you look so handsome in your school robes,” you share a breathless laugh with your bashful, first-year son before bringing him into another embrace. This one feels tighter, “are you truly my son? I can’t believe it!”

“Of course, I’m your son,” Sirius pouts into your shoulder, trying to counteract his glowing grin, somehow, but it’s no use; the urge to smile from the acceptance and the happiness was too overpowering. 

“This feels like a dream…” you whisper into the air and Sirius is brought back to the time he witnessed the affectionate exchange between his mother and younger brother at the home library doorway. He remembers feeling his heart ache and clench before finally shattering into painfully sharp pieces, engulfed by spite and jealousy. But now… you were saying the same words to him…

“…a dream come true?” Sirius asks so softly and with much insecurity, you can’t help but squeeze him tighter. 

“Yes!” you’re giddy with happiness and it’s infectious, even onto Regulus who was momentarily saddened at his older brother’s innocent wants and endurance, silently suffering from that fateful day at the Library, where everything had changed. While Regulus was floating on air from the merriment, his confident, protective and loving older brother was dealt a painful blow right to the heart. He wants to reach out and hug him tight and apologise for not noticing sooner.

“A dream come true, it’s just that.” you laugh again, “I still can’t believe it — you’re my son,” Sirius smiles as you cup his cherubic face with your gentle, loving hands. He’s stuck between jumping for joy and doing a happy dance but settles for shyly avoiding your gaze and smiling down at your wrists, where he witnesses your thumbs lovingly caressing his cheekbones in his periphery. 

“I’m your son…”

“You’re my son…” you kiss his cheek and pull away. Regulus had been inching closer and closer throughout your interaction and you could practically taste his eagerness in the air, wanting to pull his older brother into a warm embrace, himself.

Happily, you allow the two to share a moment and they don’t waste any time holding one another tightly. “I can’t believe you’re a Gryffindor, Siri! Your pin looks so beautiful. Mother did a really good job with it. I wonder where she got it made and how… I hope I get one too…” Sirius, knowing the elation the pin had given him when he had first received it and even more when he read the personalised message engraved on the back, didn’t want to deprive his brother of the same feeling, not a single bit. Looking over at you, he meets your eyes and is immediately assured by the smile dancing on your lips. 

“Of course, you’ll get a pin too, baby,” you seal the promise by pressing a kiss to the back of Regulus’ head, who spins around to face you so quickly, you fear he might have gotten whiplash but the smile on his face was enough assurance. 

“Really, Mother?”

“Really really,”

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Sirius returns to the great hall with enough time to spare. His Gryffindor pin is proudly displayed on the chest of his cardigan as he finishes breakfast with his group of friends. Upon his return, they ask him the obvious questions. 

“Is everything okay?

“What happened?”

“Are you alright?” 

“What was the meeting about?” 

Sirius could hardly answer anything from the flurry of overlapping voices and questions he was being bombarded with, other students were even beginning to look at him with curiosity after witnessing his departure with Filch. However, something in the distance catches his attention. The boys follow Sirius’s distracted gaze as soon as he turns away, not having answered a single query. At the open entrance of the great hall, they witness Orion’s scowling face pass swiftly, barely casting a glance at Sirius. He can’t believe his father is being so childish but it was satisfying to watch and listen to his mother treat him like a child too — a child who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Behind him, Regulus appears at your side, walking at a more leisurely pace. You and his little brother take a moment to lock eyes with him from the great hall entrance. Both of you smile and give him a small wave, leaving unhurriedly when he returns the gesture. But not before you blow him a kiss with a devious smile on your lips. 

Despite the tender moment you shared in Dumbledore’s office, of course, you would still want to embarrass him in front of his friends! Sirius wasn’t mad though — it was quite reassuring to see a mischievous side to his mother.

“Th-that’s your mum?” Peter squeaks nervously. He’s heard of the ancient and noble Black family before. And he’s heard a lot about the notoriously disdainful patriarch and matriarch, Orion and Walburga Black so your uncharacteristic actions make him flounder, “I-I didn’t know your mother was capable of smiling like that…” 

“Me neither,” Sirius replies with a grin, but I’m glad I know now. 

“She’s pretty,” James comments, almost gushing as Remus nods along demurely, blushing down into his morning tea. 

“Why did she look at me like that?…” Remus whispers against the lip of his teacup. 

“What was that?” Sirius asks with a curious tilt of his head. He didn’t quite manage to catch what Remus had said but his muttering was enough to pique his interest. In his embarrassment and distracted thoughts from when you had blown him a kiss, Sirius failed to notice the way your gaze lingered on Remus, who noticed an unknown glint come to life in your eyes. “Remus?”

“—N-nothing! It was nothing… nevermind,”

4th September 1971

You can’t get over how adorable the marauders look as first years. They might as well be little babies, their cheeks still possess some youthful plumpness and they look ready to grow into their school robes with much more fullness. However, as adorable as you found them to be, you have much more important and urgent matters that need tending to. You can’t believe how you’d forgotten such an important detail until now but seeing Remus was what you needed for the pieces to finally fit together. 

Damocles Belby. Inventor of the Wolfsbane potion in the 1990s. You aren’t sure about the exact year but it definitely wasn’t invented while Remus was in Hogwarts. That was why you were drawn to his quaint potions shop and why his name has been lingering in the back of your mind since that day. 

Regulus didn’t have any classes with Peony today as it was Saturday and you weren’t entirely comfortable with leaving him alone as Orion was out on business. You didn’t hear of his departure personally, he had Kreacher come and notify you in his stead. He’s still being an overgrown baby about what happened in Hogwarts. 

Dumbledore continued to refuse on the matter of Sirius’ re-sorting and firmly refused all attempts of bribery on your husband’s part. It was an unreasonable request and you were all sent out soon after so that Sirius could finish his breakfast and attend his lessons on time. Admittedly, it was better to receive the news from Kreacher rather than Orion. Despite the action being petty and out of anger, you were more than happy with the arrangement and you’ll be sure to return the gesture – whenever you want to relay a message to him, you’ll ask Kreacher for his assistance too. 

Your droopy house elf sees the mischief in your eyes and immediately notices the lack of offence to Orion’s backhanded pettiness when he hiccuped through the message he was sent to deliver. His mistress has changed so much… though he cannot argue that most of the change was pleasant. 

“I hope you’ll forgive me for arranging an outing so suddenly like this,” you sheepishly apologise, helping Regulus with his suspenders before he pulls his cardigan over his neatly pressed shirt. 

“It’s okay, Mother,” he flashes you a precious grin, “I enjoy spending time with you like this,”

It was hard to resist his sweet words and you’re immediately pulling him into an embrace, pressing light kisses onto his face. Regulus flushes a bright pink when you squeal about how ‘sweet’ and ‘precious’ and ‘charming’ he was. You’ve become so much more affectionate and, even though it’s not an unpleasant change, Regulus still finds it hard to adapt to. However, he can’t say he wants to forget or take for granted the feeling of elation and warmth that floods his chest whenever you act lovingly — he’s always dreamed of receiving affection from his mother like this. 

“Please never grow up my darling,” you sigh, already knowing the truth as you lead him to the fireplace where you’ll floo to Diagon Alley together, “but I suppose you’ll always be my little boy, so growing up won’t be too bad,” Regulus doesn’t openly admit that he wouldn’t mind being the way he is forever so long as you continue being such a wonderful mother. 

“Where will we be going, Mother?” Regulus looks up at you with curious eyes upon exiting the fireplace soot-free. He’s already reaching for your hand so you don’t lose each other in the crowds. 

“We’ll be visiting Mr Belby,” you smile fondly at the grin Regulus flashes you. He surely remembers the lovely couple owning the potion shop from when you went first-year shopping for Sirius. 

“I know where that is,” he pipes up when you look around curiously, trying to map out your journey. 

“Oh? Then do you mind leading me the way there, darling?”

“Of course, Mother, this way,” he steps forward and begins leading you along the cobblestone paths. Belby’s Potions and Ingredients was quite reserved compared to the other shops, which made it hard to distinguish, especially when it’s the weekend and more people are out and about.

“You’re so clever, thank you, darling,” you press a kiss onto the crown of Regulus’ head when he leads you beneath the hanging sign of the shop. 

Regulus grins and his chest puffs out ever so slightly, “you’re welcome, Mother,”

Observing the shop in front of you, your brows furrow with worry, “why does it look closed?” despite the observation, you knock on the door while squinting through the empty shop windows. Their sign states they’re open from Monday to Friday between the hours of 8 am and 5 pm. “They should still be open, it’s only 11 o’clock in the morning…” you knock again with more insistence and shout through the door, worried for the couple. Regulus observes your panic with anxious eyes and begins to feel the distress melting into his thoughts and feelings. The Belby couple were lovely, they were good people that no misfortune should ever try to pollute so he dreads to think they’re in any trouble. Your knocks sound as if you were determined to break their door down just to get inside, you were tempted to cast ‘alohamora’ but there would be no use for that, you’ll be arrested for trying to commit ‘breaking and entering’ in broad daylight.  

It wasn’t until Damocles himself seemingly appeared out of nowhere, looking dishevelled and sleep-deprived that you finally stopped knocking, “Madam Black,” Damocles acknowledges as soon as he opens the door to you and Regulus, “I’m afraid we’re closed for today,” to emphasise his point, he presses the closed sign onto the window of his shop’s door.

“Mr Belby, I apologise for being so demanding but this is urgent,” you try to argue, feeling the distant press of Regulus against your legs, his arms circling your waist for comfort. He doesn’t know what’s happening but to see his mother and the kind Mr Belby interact in such a state of distress made him nervous. This was so opposite to their first interaction at the shop. 

“I-I’m afraid I have far more urgent matters to attend to as of this moment,” he reasons breathlessly, trying to close the door shut but you’re determined. Your mind has been set — not only were you going to help Sirius and Regulus but you were going to be there for Remus too. 

“I insist that what I have to say to you is very important as well!”

Damocles incessantly shakes his head, his lips pressed into a thin line as his knuckles turn white from how hard he’s gripping his shop’s door handle, “my dearest Ruth is my top priority right now and she’s terribly sick at the moment, please — I’m sure this can wait!” with that, he slams the door shut, causing you and Regulus to flinch at the harsh sound. You didn’t want to hold off on the situation but you know when a line is drawn and Damocles’ insistent refusal of your entry was more than enough to tell you to back away. 

His behaviour was rather odd, however. When you first met the man and his wife, they were beyond lovely. Both were incredibly welcoming and warm, looking down at Regulus, you see the confusion in his clear, steel-grey eyes also. 

“Let's try again on Monday, darling,” Regulus nods at your suggestion. His small brows were furrowed with concern and he seemed hesitant to look away from you despite the smile of reassurance you give him. It warmed your heart seeing how troubled he was over your predicament with Mr Belby; you couldn’t resist kissing away the wrinkle between his brows, “don’t worry, my dear, patience is key when it comes to things like this,” 

Giving one last lingering glance at Belby’s Potions and Ingredients, you redirect Regulus to Gringotts. It rose higher than any of the other buildings in Diagon Alley so it was relatively easy to spot and head towards. Before heading home for the day, you had one more errand to take care of. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Filgus was easy to spot, he was the goblin you immediately walked to upon entering the opulent establishment. His sharp, angular features help hold up a monocle over his right eye as a gold chain trails down to the breast pocket of his smart, black suit, though he wears no tie. His healthy head of silver hair is pushed back and tied into a small ponytail at the base of his neck. He looks much younger than his colleagues from the largely less wrinkled visage of his countenance, it was no wonder that entertained your previous request. 

“Madam Black,” Filgus smiles at you, content with your polite, formal greeting. He smiles at Regulus too, who mirrors the goblin greeting at your side, “How may I help you?” he smirks beneath his long and pointed nose. Past the reflections of his monocle, you catch a faint gleam in his eyes, though you can’t comprehend exactly what emotion stands behind it. Was it excitement? Curiosity? Something else entirely, perhaps… “Will you be requesting another commission for our services?” you smile, finally understanding the look in his black, black eyes. 

“Although I highly commend your metalsmith expertise, I am here for a different affair,“ your words pique Regulus’ interest and he begins to speculate whether you had the goblins make Sirius’ Gryffindor pin – it would be an incredible feat if you did, "I only hope to open two new vaults today,” your request eases Filgus’ posture and his action to lean back make you realise the full extent of his previous excitement. It almost makes you want to apologise for not meeting his expectations. 

The first time you had come to him for a commission request, he had been surprised and you suppose he had been able to conceal his delight well but now his disappointment was more obvious. It made you want to giggle but you didn’t want to accidentally offend him or any of the other goblins nearby so you kept your amusement to yourself. 

“That’s simple enough,”

“I want both vaults to have the same precautions and safeguards as the Black family vaults,” his quill stops momentarily as he makes a point of raising a brow at your specifications. A beat passes and he finishes off what he was writing. 

“Who will these vaults be for?”

“They will be for my sons. One for Sirius Orion Black the third,” you reach over to wrap your arm around Regulus’ small shoulders, “and the other for Regulus Arcturus Black,” 

“Unusual,” Filgus comments under his breath but makes his notes regardless of the uncommon application from the Black family matriarch herself. This was not tradition for ancient, noble wizarding families to create a separate vault entirely when they all simply shared one vault. The only reason for something like this to happen would be when someone was disowned by their family and are forced to start from a completely empty vault. Filgus looks up from the parchment he was writing on, only to meet eyes with Regulus who looks white as a ghost and frozen with fear. The sight makes the goblin chuckle under his breath and shakes his head subtly. Even if he wanted to, he had no words of comfort to offer the young wizard. 

“I want the vaults for my sons to be entirely separate from the Black family vaults — nowhere near it,”

“Consider it done. The keys and paperwork will be delivered to you soon enough,”

“Thank you very much, Filgus,” you nod with a smile, “and I assure you that I will be back to request another commission soon enough,” he smirks beneath his pointed nose and his black eyes seem to light up despite their soulless darkness. He says nothing more as you lead Regulus out of Gringotts for the journey home.  

Beside you, Regulus is filled with dread to the point that he feels sick. Getting a separate vault means only one thing and the realisation makes his eyes sting with globulous tears. Looking up at you, his mind flashes with all the happy memories you’ve shared with him and Sirius the past month or so — was that all just a lie? Were you such a good actor that you managed to babble that prideful speech to Sirius at Hogwarts on the spot? Did you always mean to disown them? But then why did you put so much effort into bonding with them like this? It’s too cruel…

“Darling!” you panic at the river of tears running down Regulus’ flushed cheeks. Stepping out of Gringotts, you were just about to ask Regulus if he’d fancy stopping by a sweet shop to bring something yummy home to indulge in and maybe get something for Kreacher too, only to be met by the pitiful image of your youngest sobbing and clinging onto the draping silhouette of your dress skirt. You sweep him up into your arms and move to a bench placed in a, somewhat, secluded location so that you can have a modicum of privacy. “Oh, sweetheart…” you coo and gently brush back his hair with your fingers, “please tell me what’s the matter so that I can help you feel better…” he mutters something incoherent under his breath and in between his hiccups but you ask him to repeat it as you couldn’t hear the first time.  

“Y-you’re going to disown me and Sirius…“ he sobs before throwing himself at your lap and crying into your skirt, “Please don’t disown us, we’ll be good, I promise!” you couldn’t take hearing his tearful cries any longer and you scoop him up again so you could hug him tightly as he wraps his arms over your shoulders to sob into your neck, his legs wrapping around your waist. 

‘Openly crying in public?! HOW DISGRACEFUL! LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO MY SONS YOU WRETCHED THING!’ Walburga screeches in your head but you’re quick to hush her up, completely ignoring her piggish squealing to focus on comforting Regulus. ‘THEY COULD HAVE BEEN TRAINED AND DISCIPLINED INTO HONOURABLE SONS BEFORE YOUR INFLUENCE BUT NOW IT’S COMPLETELY HOPELESS!’ She can rant and squeal and screech as much as she wants, you’re not responding to a single thing. Regulus was much more important right now. 

You sit there with him, softly shushing his sobs and patting his back comfortingly as he cries and cries until his eyes run dry. In his panic and distress, Regulus wasn’t in the right headspace to listen to any consoling words you had to say so you waited. It wasn’t until the neckline of your black dress was made damp with Regulus’ tears that you finally whispered your consolation, he had managed to quiet down to small hiccups and shy sniffles. 

“There is no way on earth that I would ever ever disown you or Sirius, let alone both of you,” you press a kiss to Regulus’ temple, blinking back your tears at the intense display of sadness from your usually mild-mannered son. 

“B-but,” Regulus protests, pulling away to look at you with wide, swollen eyes, “you’ve created a separate vault for me and Sirius, that can only mean one thing…” he explains, making you realise your careless actions. 

“Oh darling, I’m not disowning you at all…” you wipe your thumbs beneath his eyes, offering a sad, apologetic smile for having conveyed such confusing intentions, “I only wanted to make sure you and your brother had something to put your belongings in and have a place for your savings that nobody else can touch,” he tilts his head curiously at you, “it’s to set you and your brother up well for the future. These vaults are for your and your brother’s possessions only, nobody else’s. For now, I’ll have your keys and help you save up some galleons until you’re old enough. I know that we’re a very rich family but there’s no harm in having your own vaults so that you and your brother can start adulthood on a good foundation,”

“…th-that’s all?”

“That’s all,” you nuzzle his nose with your own and kiss his forehead, making him giggle — such a beautiful sound. 

He throws his arms over your shoulders and gives you a tight squeeze, “Thank you, Mother,” you can hear the relief dripping from his voice and it makes your heart clench. 

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, darling,” 

“It’s okay…” he whispers shyly, not wanting to pull away so you could witness the flush of embarrassment dusting his cheeks. 

“Next time you’re worried about something, please talk to me, okay? I don’t want you to worry needlessly,”

Regulus nods and pulls away to grin brightly at you, “Okay!” you bought him a lot of sweets at the shops after that. 

11th September 1971 

You visited Belby’s Potions and Ingredients every day for the next week and it was always closed. After some time, you take the trips without Regulus, opting for going by yourself while he’s being tutored by Peony. Usually, you’d make your way home after realising there would be no signs of the couple appearing any time soon. There wasn’t a single light on behind the shop’s windows. Its interior was motionless, like a space suspended in time — nothing was out of place, it was merely still… and it stayed like that for an entire week.

An unhealthy amount of concern was beginning to build up in the pit of your stomach for the couple — perhaps Ruth’s illness the previous week was truly debilitating and when you remember your insensitivity, dominated by desperation, your chest constricts with shame atop the mounting anxiety. After your visit with Regulus, you had purchased a moon calendar and discovered that Remus would be experiencing his first transformation the following night and you suppose that realisation didn’t help your anxiety over the issue. He was going to be experiencing his first transformation so quickly, he barely would have settled into Hogwarts. For that sweet, kind and anxious boy, you were willing to do anything atop all the things you were already planning to do for Sirius and Regulus. 

Belby’s Potions and Ingredients was just ahead now, the muscle memory of the journey there easily guiding your feet and allowing your mind to wonder about the young lycanthrope attending Hogwarts with your firstborn. You were anticipating another uneventful but worrisome visit, however, the sight of an ‘open’ sign hanging on the door made your heart stop. For a moment, you paused, frozen in place and took the time to digest what you were seeing in front of you. You have to confirm that it wasn’t a dream or an illusion that your mind conjured up in its noxious mixture of fret and despair. 

No, this was real! 

Pushing open the door, you rush inside and immediately call out to the potioneer, “Mr Belby! Mr Belby!” you meet the bearded man at his designated station behind the front counter. Beneath his eyes are the faintest trace of dark circles but he manages to smile at your bright demeanour. 

“Good morning, Madam Black,” he greets, somewhat, cheerfully, “how may I help you today?”

With warmth in your eyes, you redirect his statement, “Actually, I was hoping to help you today…” as eager as you were to offer your aide and investment in the brilliant potioneer’s talents, his appearance was a sharp contrast to your first meeting that you were swamped with worry. Damocles gives an inquisitive look at your statement and prompts you for an explanation but it falls on deaf ears when you remember his words the previous week. “How is Ruth?” guilt tugs at your heartstrings and the emotion easily shows on your features, “Is she feeling better?”

Happy to divert from your earlier words in favour of his wife, Damocles smiles rather grimly and nods, “She has quite the weak constitution, especially after an episode,” he’s careful with his words and expertly continues despite his true emotions pleading to take control of his expressions. At times there’s an odd quirk in his smile or a misplaced dullness in his eyes — gone was the man you greeted at your first encounter. He looked poorly. Dishevelled and weighed down by something heavy. Someone so kind, loving and passionate about his work didn’t deserve such troubles. 

“And it’s lasted an entire week?” you’re saddened by his confirming nod and hum, “Is she here? At the shop?” you don’t wait until he confirms nor denies; you’re already stepping towards an isolated but well-loved corner of the quaint shop. 

“Madam Black…” a weak, melodious voice greets you. Approaching Ruth in her rocking chair, you offer a kind smile, happy to see her in, somewhat, good health. “I apologise that my illness has deprived the business of my husband,” she is humbly sheepish and her radiant countenance almost distracts you from her trembling hands. It isn’t a secret how devitalised she is but to still attempt her embroidery in her eroded state makes your chest tighten.

“I’m just happy you’re doing better,” you try to forget the careless words you had desperately shouted the week previous. It wasn’t your intention to be so insensitive and you wouldn’t dare wish any ill-will towards Ruth. The Belby couple are incredibly pleasant people and a treasure to have for company. You suppose that your eagerness to help Remus with his lycanthropy was too strong to resist – not only can you help Sirius and Regulus, but you can help many more of your beloved characters too. 

“Thank you, Madam Black,” Ruth has the loveliest smile, it breaks your heart to know that she’s suffering from such a debilitating, chronic illness. 

“I can’t imagine being as lovely as you despite needing a week to recover from an episode—” You pause and look upon Ruth with searching eyes. Aside from her face, she is covered head-to-toe in clothing. Leaning on the wall was a simple cane within her reach. And, if you weren’t mistaken, exactly a week before today, was a full moon…

“Ruth, my dear, your potion,” Damocles gently reminds, pulling out a phial of the iconic magenta healing potion. You recognise it immediately. It’s the same healing potion you’ve been forced to endure because of the degenerate bitch stuck in your head causing you to faint multiple times. 

“Darling, you’re a wonderful potioneer but I’d rather not consume another healing potion right now. I’ll be sick, otherwise,” Ruth politely declines. Her attentive husband directly goes to protest but you’re quick to interfere. 

“Mr Belby, when did you say Ruth had her episode?” 

“Last week,” he answers nonchalantly, still entirely focused on his wife, who continues to resist his resolute demands of needing to drink the potion. 

“That was a full moon…” the couple pause and a stillness consumes the space. It’s as if you’re suddenly in a vacuum, where time doesn’t exist and everything is at a standstill. “Is Ruth suffering from Lycanthropy?” you take care to keep any form of judgement out of your voice, your tone is neutral, your volume levelled and there isn’t a trace of disdain in your eyes. To avoid causing a huge stir, you try to keep neutral but a warm sadness and soft compassion manages to sneak onto your countenance. 

“Ruth’s illness is not your concern, Madam Black,” Damocles’ voice is strong, commanding and protective. His firm stance as he partially stands in the way of his wife demands that you pull back and stay at a distance. 

“Are you trying to find a cure?” you ask, completely impartial now and, almost, chillingly stoic. Damocles doesn’t answer. You glimpse their connected hands, their grip on each other is as strong as a tightly wound knot; it would be a struggle to pry them apart. “If you are, there isn’t a cure—” 

“I WON’T STAND FOR ANY VERBALLY DEMEANING REMARKS AGAINST MY WIFE! GET OUT! YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!”

“I haven’t said anything of the sort to Ruth…” you smile kindly at the potioneer and reach out your hand, “I want to help you,”

“HYPOCRITE!” his loud volume makes you immediately retract your hand. From her seat, Ruth places a gentle hand on her husband’s forearm, a silent plea to give you a chance. Damocles doesn’t fully yield his anger but, in respect of his wife, lowers his voice slightly, "You just denied that a cure could be made!” he can’t trust you. You are a Black, the matriarch, in fact — your entire family despise dark creatures, even those that were afflicted without their consent, much like his dearest. He won’t let you lay a finger on his wife. 

“I said that only because that goal is too ambitious for the moment.” your comment makes Damocles pause, shocked but thoughtful, “I can’t encourage you to make a cure right away but I will support you in the endeavour to create a potion that will relieve the symptoms of Lycanthropy,”

“Support, how?” 

“Funding?” you suggest, “I can help you get expensive ingredients. Or maybe I can help you with research? Or I can keep Ruth company while you focus on your work entirely? I can do all of that and more if you will only let me,” 

The couple look at each other with curious eyes that also fill with fear and hope. 

“…what do you hope to gain from this?” Damocles needed to know. He just couldn’t fathom that someone of such high standing in the wizarding world, who was infamous for her intolerance of dark creatures, muggles, half-bloods and everything that didn’t reflect her skewedimage of ‘pure’ was in favour of helping him, the husband to a lycanthrope.

“I have no ulterior motives… I only wish to turn over a new leaf and help those that I can,” 

“I don’t believe you,” Damocles looks at you with suspicious eyes, narrowed and sharp. He is a contrasting image to the kind and warm man you first met at the counter on Sirius’ Hogwarts shopping day. 

“Then believe that I also have someone…” you look at Ruth, meeting her gentle eyes with a soft stare, “Believe that I have someone I deeply care about and wish to help with their Lycanthropy too,” you’re unable to break eye contact with Ruth; she can comprehend the deep sorrow in your eyes along with a determination that cannot be rivalled. It connects with her deep down, making her heart ache with feelings of desperation and painful hope.  

Damocles is torn. Ever since meeting his current wife, he has wanted nothing more than to use his expertise in potions to help her condition. It was an ambition he had been doing alone largely due to the prejudicial opinions surrounding Lycanthropy. It’s been years and his progress has barely been noticeable. All he’s been able to achieve are potions that barely have an effect. His recent potion was the most progress he’s ever made, where he was able to reduce her anxieties during the transformation. It was only thanks to the powdered moonstone he had managed to get a hold of. If he can have easy access to such valuable ingredients, his progression on the potion will be exponential. But he resists. He’s getting carried away by the excitement of possibilities, not only will he be helping his wife but he will have the opportunity to work with high-quality, precious ingredients again. He was a potioneer, not a businessman so his shop is barely keeping him and his wife afloat, their heads barely above the water of bills and necessities.

Ruth looks at her husband’s thoughtful countenance. She feels such guilt for burdening him with her condition but she doesn’t regret marrying him and promising to share the rest of her life with the kind man. Damocles makes the effort to always support her and assure her that he loves her regardless of her condition and affiliated insecurities. He loves her for her smile, her beautiful eyes, her delicious cooking, her kind heart, her precious love of books, her talent for embroidery, her loving words and the fact that he feels whole with her. The moment he said his vows and uttered the words ‘I do’, he had pledged to take care of her wholeheartedly and he intends to keep that promise, in the same fashion she does.    

“Sweetheart…” Ruth pleads with her eyes, staring up at her husband as tears well up in their eyes. They don’t know your full intentions but they’re willing to do whatever it takes. 

‘I want to take care of her,’

‘I want to be good to him’

“…alright, it’s a deal,”

You leave the store with the promise of visiting the Belby couple again soon, where you plan on catching up with Damocles’ progress and discuss future endeavours with the confidential project. The buzz and thrill pulse through your arterial system like an effusive river, unable to stop and eager to run its course all the way to its estuary but you don’t have one so the rush will have to calm on its own. 

This was a step forward in helping Remus and Ruth as well as many more werewolves across the country. The week you were shut out of the shop because of Damocles’ absence, you’ve been relentlessly planning your future tactics. It’s led to further elaborations on your other plans as well as the inclusion of other entirely new plots. You not only have the power and insight to help your darling sons but a myriad of other characters as well. There wasn’t going to be a chance of you doing one without the other now. Everything is interconnected in this universe; if you help Remus, you’ll also be helping Sirius and Regulus. Everything connects to your beautiful sons — you weren’t going to neglect a single path forward. It’s ambitious but when has a challenge ever stopped you from moving forward somehow? Never. 

Entering 12 Grimmauld Place, you were met with an eerie quietness. Searching for the time on the grandfather clock down the hall, you realise that Regulus would have finished his lesson a little while ago, nearing half an hour. The realisation jumpstarts your nerves and you’re rushing up the stairs to greet him at the Library; that’s where he usually goes to consolidate his lesson notes. You can vividly imagine him bent over a desk, carefully skimming over inky parchment as a plate of snacks and a cup of tea sit within arms reach of him, courtesy of Kreacher. When you peek into the Library, however, there isn’t a trace of Regulus anywhere. Where could he be? Regulus is fond of his routines and doesn’t normally stray from them, especially when it comes to his workflow study habits. 

Why do I have a bad feeling?... You think to yourself, placing a trembling hand over your thundering heart. The silence around you is deafening now and you have to hold back on rampaging through the house. Orion is home… In situations like this, you must stay calm. If Orion has done something to Regulus, it’ll be best if he doesn’t know you’ve come home yet. 

“Mistress! Mistress!” Kreacher appears out of thin air, tugging anxiously at his ears with eyes as wide as saucers. The panic in his watery gaze sets your own heart racing with apprehension. You already know what may be happening.

“Where is Regulus?”

“The vault, Mistress! The vault!”

You’ve never been in the very upper levels of the house before. It never felt worthy of exploration when you wanted to focus on your boys and the plans you’re slowly beginning to implement for them and the universe. 

The uppermost floor of the house was an attic space that had the far end shut off as a separate room. This area must be due to some space-warping magic because the roof was flat from the outside but the ceiling of this large room had the typical triangular roof shape. Boxes and other miscellaneous items litter about the, otherwise, sparse area, providing plenty of nooks and crannies for spiders and other creepy-crawlies to make a home in. Kreacher stays by the skirt of your dress, trembling from restlessness as you lean further into the room. He informed you that Regulus was forcibly dragged up here by Orion as soon as he saw off Peony at the fireplace. Orion had been peacefully reading The Daily Prophet in an armchair in the corner of the living room. Regulus was jumped by his own father. The old dirtbag must still be incensed by Sirius’ sorting ceremony and what had occurred at the Headmaster’s office. 

Narrowing your gaze, you focus on Orion, who leans against the locked door of the attic’s separate room. The iron wall that sectioned it off blended into the metal door that was firmly shut. From within that small, hollow, metal room came desperate banging, presumably from Regulus hitting the walls with his closed fists. The thought makes your hand clench around your wand tightly. This pathetic bastard has a death wish…

“If your brother had been sorted into Slytherin this wouldn’t be happening Regulus! How big of a disappointment the both of you are!”

“Father! I’m sorry!” Regulus’ pleading comes out muffled through the metal walls and door, you can barely hear him. It makes you want to hollow out your chest with the way your heart is relentlessly clenching down on itself.

“When you turn eleven and enter Hogwarts, you better be sorted into Slytherin OR ELSE YOU WILL BE IN FOR A WORLD OF PAIN! DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

“…n-no father…” 

“WHAT WAS THAT?!!! REGULUS?!!!” Orion’s angry shout was met with silence and he punches the mental door in anger, the force making the structure shake, “ANSWER ME, BOY!”

“Flippendo!”you utter angrily under your breath with your wand raised at Orion’s turned back. The spell sends him flying forward with a startled scream. His head hits the metal door and he’s immediately knocked unconscious. You don’t wait a second further to rush forward and unlock the metal door. It takes a great amount of effort to pull open with its heftiness but maternal instincts make it as simple as opening any normal door. 

“Mother!” Regulus cries at the sight of you from where he’s seated directly behind the door. The enclosed space was incredibly dark, there wasn’t a window anywhere. With the light filtering in past your silhouette, you looked like an angel sent to rescue him. 

“Let's get you out of this horrid room, darling,” it’s hard to relax or temper your anger when you’re looking upon your trembling son who should only ever be smiling. You don’t want him spending a second longer in this horrible attic so you quickly lift him into your arms and rush him down to his room as he cries freely from relief. 

You weren’t in a hurry to get Regulus settled beneath his blankets and tucked in; having him in your arms was a firm reassurance that he’s with you, safe and sound so you’re reluctant to let him go. Nevertheless, you get him settle him down and sit at his bedside before flicking your wand up. The gesture draws back the curtains to their furthest limits and opens up the windows to allow in some fresh air. 

“You’re okay, darling. Mother’s here now…” you whisper, gently petting his forehead and combing back his inky curls. Beneath the covers, Regulus can’t seem to stop himself from shaking but enjoys the sunlight pouring in through the windows and the cooling breeze that caresses his pale, tear-streaked cheeks. He hasn’t said a single word and neither have you. His gaze remains transfixed on the open window where the blue skies are decorated with floating clouds. You watch as his anxious expression gradually loosens, unfurling into one without emotion. “My love?…” the tension in Regulus’ small shoulders and tight limbs melts away when your voice finally breaks through the ringing in his ears. “I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to leave you home alone…”

His eyes flicker up to hold your gaze. He watches as tears gather at your waterline before spilling over in a cascade of glittering diamonds, created under the mounted pressure that was your love and panic for him and his wellbeing.

“Mother is so incredibly sorry,” you cradle his small hand in your own before pressing his palm against your tearful cheek. “Please forgive me, I promise I won’t let this happen ever again,”

You had nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t your fault. Regulus was frightened and shaken up by his father’s aggressive and malicious expression of contempt, you had done nothing. Regulus would willingly go through that all over again if it meant his father didn’t get to touch Sirius. For the longest time, Sirius had been his only protector and now he has you too. He can bear anything if it means keeping his older brother safe the same way he kept Regulus safe before you came to protect both of them. For the longest time, it felt as if they were the only two people who truly understood each other — it still largely feels that way — and that they were the only ones who knew how to protect each other properly. But that wasn’t the case anymore because they have you now. Beautiful, amazing, motherly you. 

Oftentimes, Regulus would remember the day you had such a drastic personality change. It started normal despite the odd behaviour you had been partaking in leading up to that moment, spending more time in the private quarters meant only for the ladies of the Black family. It had been happening for weeks and the behaviour was odd but since it’s led to such a change of heart in you, the two brothers didn’t question it. 

Here you are now, apologising for his father’s abuse and tearfully pleading for his forgiveness. Regulus never would have imagined witnessing the beautiful image of his mother expressing such sincere sorrow and guilt over his ailing form. The youngest Black thinks he could be dreaming, still back in that claustrophobic attic vault and conjuring up a hallucination to save himself from the mental turmoil the small space puts him through. Sirius had nothing to worry about when he left for Hogwarts because, no matter what, you’ll be there for him and Regulus, even if it means going against Orion. 

“It’s okay, Mother,” Regulus softly smiles up at you, his brows furrowing slightly when his words make your tears pour out in more globulous amounts. 

“This won’t happen again, I swear it,” you press a kiss against his small palm. 

“I know,” the trust and belief Regulus has in you shines through in the glimmer of his eyes, catching the sunlight pouring in from his windows. With your heart stuttering in your chest, you pause before opening your arms and leaning forward to embrace his form through the blankets. “NO!”with a loud shout, Regulus pushes you away and presses his eyes tightly closed.

When Regulus opens his eyes again, you’re frozen in place with wide, shocked eyes. You don’t know what to do. In your chest, your heart breaks at the notion that Regulus doesn’t want to be touched by you but there’s a side of you that reassures his reaction is natural considering what he had just gone through. The conflicting emotions freeze up your limbs and leave you motionless, vulnerable to be swayed onto either side.

Realisation dawns on the youngest Black brother and a frightened gasp escapes him before he’s apologising profusely. Tears reappear at his waterline and threaten to spill over at the thought of pushing you away when all you wanted to do was comfort him. He needs to explain! He has to explain! 

Please don’t hate me! Please don’t hate me! Pleasedon’thateme!

“I’m sorry, Mother!” Regulus reaches for your hand and squeezes it in between his own, “I-I don’t feel comfortable in tight spaces, I don’t want to be h-hugged right now,” you have reminded him and Sirius multiple times that they have the right to communicate their emotions, wants and needs. The important thing you always emphasised was that you would never be angry at them for doing that – Regulus is holding you to your word but waits with bated breath for your response.  

His words were all the confirmation you needed to relax. Of course, that was what he was worried about most. How stupid and selfish of you to make this situation about yourself when Regulus had gone through something so traumatising. 

“Don’t worry, my love, I should have been more considerate of you,” you carefully shush him and wipe away his silent tears, resisting the urge to lean in and take up more of his personal space, “please don’t cry, you have nothing to be sorry for…if you don’t feel comfortable with anything please tell me right away. I promise I won’t get angry or take offence,” you look into his eyes earnestly, reiterating the words you always reminded him and his brother of. It makes Regulus smile softly; you kept your word, “I only want you to be comfortable and happy, always, okay?”

Regulus calms down and nods affirmatively, his smile growing. You agree to hold his hand in silence while he falls asleep and relish being allowed to stay close despite what happened to him earlier. His hand is small but his grip is strong, he doesn’t seem to want to let go of your hand, even in his sleep. You will protect him forever and always. 

While Regulus rests peacefully in his room, you carefully slip away from his hold to make dinner. His favourite. So is dessert. He’ll be eating all of his favourites for the next week and he’s getting spoiled rotten. As usual, Kreacher accompanies you and ambles about the kitchen under your precise instructions, however, you have a special task for him tonight. 

“Is Orion still unconscious in the attic, Kreacher?” you ask monotonously. 

“Y-yes mistress,“

“Good,” you chirp cheerfully, “Please move him to the bottom of the third staircase,” Kreacher gives you a curious look but doesn’t question your intentions. 

“And then, mistress?”

“Leave him there,” in a blink, Kreacher had disappeared to do your bidding. The house elf doesn’t know what you have planned for the patriarch but knows it would be to avenge the young master. That was enough for Kreacher. 

When Kreacher rejoins you in the kitchen to finish preparing Regulus’ dinner, you proceed to tell him that he move Orion to bed as soon as he wakes up. But only when he wakes up. 

“Whatever the mistress says,” Kreacher nods. 

When you bring up the trays for Regulus, he’s still peacefully asleep in bed so you place his food at his bedside and ask Kreacher to keep the meal warm by putting a spell on the plates like he often does with yours and the boys’ tea. It’s then that the wrinkly elf perks up and alerts you that Orion has awoken. Nodding briefly at him, he disappears with a snap of his fingers and you immediately know he’s gone to do as you’ve asked earlier on. While he does that, you fetch Orion’s dinner as well, which is simple tomato soup with garlic bread — it’s more than he deserves. 

As soon as you enter the room with the food tray, you hear Orion muttering to himself bitterly as he sits up in bed, “Useless house elf, leaving me at the bottom of the stairs,”

“I told Kreacher to leave you there,” you explain gently as you approach his bedside. 

“WHAT?!”

“Calm down, Orion, you’ll only hurt yourself more if you act so excited after just waking up,” as if on cue, Orion groans and falls back with a hand pressed against his temple, “See? Here, I’ve made dinner to help you feel better, eat it at your own pace,” it hurts you to smile at him after what he’s done to your sweet, precious Regulus but you have to be patient. You’ll bring the axe down on his neck soon. You can’t believe you were willing to settle for divorce alone but that’s not enough for someone like him. Now, you have something much more fitting in mind.

“Why did you tell Kreacher to leave me there?” Orion doesn’t take the food right away, only giving it a brief side-ways glance before trying to figure out what happened. 

“It was for your safety. It looked like you hit your head and that’s a very sensitive place, I was worried that if he moved you, he’d end up carelessly hurting you even more and we don’t want that…”

With a huff, he deems your explanation decent enough and finally sits up again, reaching for his food. You smile even more, eagerly anticipating his replenishment on your home-cooked meal when he stops to ask something, “Did you have something to do with this?…” He gestures to his temple subtly, referring to his injury. 

“Of course, I did,” you answer simply, ignoring the blend of shock and fury that consumes his expression, “I made sure your meal was very nutritious so you can heal properly,”

“That’s not what I—… never mind,” Orion sighs in defeat and slowly begins to eat in bed. He gives an occasional groan of protest, reaching up and making it obvious how uncomfortable his temple is, silently asking for additional attention and care. He’s not getting any of that from you. Rather, you quite enjoy his uncomfortable musings. You won’t take initiative, instead, you’ll wait until he explicitly asks for a healing potion before finally giving him one. You’ll ensure that Kreacher is informed of this too. He’s a mere house elf, after all, your stupid husband can’t expect Kreacher to make any helpful suggestions. 

“Make sure to eat everything, it’s to help with your health, okay?” you leave him to finish off his meal alone, smiling all the way to Regulus’ room. 

‘YOU PUT SOMETHING IN MY HUSBAND’S FOOD! I SAW IT!’ Walburga screeches in your head. For once, it comes out as music to your ears. The laxatives were from a muggle store so she has no clue what you’ve done.

‘Now, now Walburga,’ you inwardly voice in a patient and gentle tone, ‘Orion was very naughty doing that to Regulus while I was away. So kindly SHUT THE FUCK UP AND ENJOY THE SHOW YOU FOUL, EMACIATED, UGLY BITCH!’ that shuts her up nicely just as you’re about to enter Regulus’ bedroom again, smirking to yourself at Orion’s imminent doom.  

‘Enjoy the explosive diarrhoea you disgusting prick,' 

You also manage to bring up a second helping of food so you can eat together with Regulus when he finally wakes and has the appetite for dinner. In the meantime, you brought your notebook of plans to continue your scheming at Regulus’ desk. You had spent some time admiring his layout and the way he organises his stationery. He has quite a mature system in place for someone so young but it was something you admired — you can tell how incredibly bright his future is going to be just from seeing how he sets up his workplace. Truthfully, the set-up helped motivate you more, you want to preserve your youngest son’s hopes, dreams, happiness and everything about him so that he can live a fulfilled life — not even his desk will be touched by those with malicious intent or anyone that wanted to drag him down. 

Your specific plans for tonight focus solely on the wolfsbane potion and trying to remember everything about it in your universe. From the corner of your eye, you have the perfect image of Regulus peacefully sleeping in bed, tucked up and cosy. There isn’t a single sign of terror to agitate his precious features, rather, he looks completely at peace. This is how he should always look. The image encourages you to push forward, trying to remember any bit of helpful information from your previous life as a Harry Potter fan. Even if the clue may seem unhelpful or completely made up, you write it down regardless. 

‘All this and for what?!’ the nagging voice in the back of your head makes another appearance but you simply roll your eyes. If you give her more attention than she deserves, you’ll only spur her on more, ‘not only is my son part of that foolish house but you’re making such efforts for disgusting half-breeds! Ridiculous! Have you no shame?!’she screeches unpleasantly to the point of making your inner ears ache. However, it was at that moment that a thought occurred to you. It’s strange…very strange. Orion made his displeasure of Sirius’ sorting known the instant he heard the news but Walburga only voices her dissatisfaction now. 

‘When I think about it… you didn’t freak out half as much as Orion when letters gossiping of Sirius’ sorting came. I was fully predicting a meltdown that would put me in a coma for a day or two,’ you internally voice, passing it off as an innocuous comment in the hopes that it leaves her naive to your true intentions. 

‘Your sickening plans for that pin were too much of a distraction!’Walburga excuses as you keep quiet. If you interrupt her ramblings, you won’t be able to pick up on the reasoning behind her actions. It’s best to let her get ahead of herself, the fool, ‘Typical for a soft-hearted, feeble muggle like you! Celebrating such a dishonourable sorting ceremony result! It’s simply humiliating! Rather than that revolting pin, I sent that no good son of mine a howler the day after his sorting. Useless child! He’s no Black, he’s a no-good, mud-blood-loving, blood-traitor who likes to engage with half-breeds and is an utter disgrace to his family! Associating himself with that ‘light’ Potter family, engaging with filthy mudbloods and blood traitors — dirty! The lot of them! Regulus is my only good child, if only he hadn’t gotten himself killed trying to leave the organisation, he would have been my perfect son!’

‘H— How do you know that?…and how do you know about his ‘half-breed’ friend you vile piece of shit?’ as always, her disgusting attitude makes your blood boil on Remus’ and Ruth’s behalf. How dare she act so high and mighty when she’s the most unpleasant person to ever exist? She doesn’t answer your question, instead, she becomes eerily quiet once more. Scoffing at her cowardly departure from the conversation, you make an urgent annotation in your notebook. Hopefully, this will lead to some answers. 

‘Investigate the first room you woke up in’

SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 07 : INVESTIGATIONS →

A/N : This was longer than I intended but a lot has happened so I hope you enjoy the read regardless. I'm sorry for what happened to our baby but we'll be there for him as you were able to see. No way are we letting that slide nor are we going to let that happen any longer. 

Thank you again to all the darlings who always show their love and support of this series, even though I adore writing it and planning future chapters, it's also really time-consuming and exhausting to keep up at points so it really means a lot when I see that you darlings enjoy the read and look forward to series updates. 

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites

[luckyarchivist]

Hi there!! Hope you don't mind the ask, but I saw you reblog my post about what I think of the updated demo. Thank you for adding ur thoughts to it <3 and sorry it spoiled a few things. I didn't go too in depth because I didn't want to reveal EVERYTHING that happens, but there were some things I needed to spoil for clarity's sake. To me, the whole thing just felt like we were frogs being tossed into boiling water straight away, unlike the prev version of the demo, where we entered cool water first. Anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts about it all. I'm a big fan of all your touchstarved analyses, and I immediately thought of your "honesty and Ais" post when they took out that ONE line and replaced it with a flirty comment (trying to avoid spoilers here too haha, but you made a post on it!). Take care!! And I hope you enjoy the rest of the demo!!

Hello, allswell! I'm back, and I've played Leander's route. Don't worry about your post's spoilers; I went in knowing I'd be spoiling myself, you gave plenty of warning.

I wanted to tell you about my general thoughts on his route (since...that's the ask) and also answer your question in tags of "whether Leander's manipulation is more subtle in 1.0 or 2.0".

I also want you to know that my original, full answer to this ask was so long that I'm just going to post it separately 😭 I realized I had waaaay too much to say about Leander's post-tavern route. So, for now, I'll try and generally sum up my thoughts and answer your questions.

First: What were my thoughts on Leander's route?

I loved it. I loved it. Not necessarily all the minutiae—

Are you fucking kidding me with this line? What the hell?

—but overall I really enjoyed it.

Anyone visiting from afar can read my initial notes about Leander's route in my longpost, but going into this, I definitely had some things I was looking for. Mainly, I wanted blushy Leander back.

Of course, I also read your post, allswell (and please read their thoughts if you're interested, other readers!) where you expressed feeling like Leander was now too easy to see through and too suspicious because of the loss of his cute, friendly personality.

I would say, for both of us, that we're at a disadvantage in the sense that we already know Leander is Not Good. We know all about the marketing; we've been reading people's analyses and headcanons. And we connected all of those to The Baby, 1.0 Leander. 2.0 Leander is not the inoffensive pookie bear of the previous demo version, so it's much easier to be on guard around him because he's not as pathetic as before, even when he's not really being suspicious.

So, when going through his solo route, I told myself that I would be happy as long as Leander's new scenes felt like a satisfying accompaniment to his new archetype as the not-so-holy savior of the city. And I really, really felt like they did.

What absolutely enchanted me was the ways in which Leander and MC's interactions already embody "the cult of one": a level of emotional manipulation and abuse like you'd see between a cult leader and their followers, on the smallest possible scale. I'll go into these cult elements more in my to-be-written analysis(? Series of observations?), but I happen to have been watching a lot of cult content on YouTube recently and could not tell you how excited I was to recognize the signs so lovingly recreated in Leander's solo route.

This moves me quite neatly into your other question.

And that is: Do I think Leander's manipulation was more subtle in 1.0 or 2.0?

Before I answer this, I want to talk about my differing views of Leander 1.0 vs. 2.0, assuming (as the devs have said) that Leander hasn't changed, just that more of his later character has been revealed earlier.

In 1.0, Leander is playing a part. He is acting as someone who is very silly and very promiscuous and endlessly kind, despite his abilities as a mage and a leader, because that is what draws people in. That facade is his main weapon; it makes people lower their guards and trust him, even when anyone with some sense would be wary of a super-powerful magic user with an entire militia they can order around. It's an appeal to emotion. And I fell for it!

But that's not him, or rather, that's not the truest version of him. As a player, you get the shock of seeing his "true face" later in his route, and perhaps that is where his "monstrousness" comes from.

In 2.0, Leander is himself. And we see in his route that the cute, blushing Leander, who speaks highly of friends and foes alike, is not absent — he's still there, because that is him, too. It's just not played up to such a comical degree. That is because 2.0 Leander uses his authority to get people to trust him, rather than appealing to their emotions with cuteness.

Not only that, but this Leander is free to rely on his clout as a mage and a local political figure publicly because he has other weapons of manipulation that fit his image: he's an skilled wordsmith, and in that, an emotional puppeteer; he's the head of a tightly knit group that is clearly protective of him. If one thing doesn't work, he moves to the next. And it's much less jarring for a person (the MC) to learn that their righteous and gifted hero has a soft, obedient side than to learn that their subby little boyfriend is running his gang like a military cult. So, if needed, 2.0 Leander could bring that 1.0 facade out later in the story without causing MC mental dissonance; it's just another tool.

In this scenario, the player already knows Leander's nature, even if MC does not; their horror creeps in as they watch their MC struggle to leave the web Leander is weaving for them. It's possible that, if you choose certain choices while playing his route, you may not even realize the depth of his manipulation until it's too late.

So, was Leander's manipulation more subtle in 1.0 or 2.0? I think that depends on what the player is more susceptible to. I'm the type of person who's a sucker for a boyfailure, so 1.0 Leander would sneak up on me. But for those who need a knight in shining armor, one who they know will protect them no matter what, 2.0 Leander is the perfect predator.

[pkmn-redirect]

Chapter 2 - Page 24

First | Previous | Next | Latest Index (chapter 3 info under cut)

Chapter 2 has finally concluded! A whole 8 pages longer than the first!! Woo!! I have a feeling they may just get longer as we get more into the story haha. Oh well! Like last time, I'll be taking a break between chapters to rest a little, get the plot points for the next chapter more polished, and try to get a solid backlog of pages ready. Going to take about of month off- POSSIBLY a month and a half? Depends on how well prepping the chapter goes (I have doomed myself by setting it in ancient Ecruteak City and am not as familiar with classic Japanese architecture as I would like hahaha- time to find some refs and do a bunch of studies!). Either way- it will be back in mid-late November! That DOESN'T mean that the comic feed will be quiet though! Like last time, there's a between chapter Interlude page that will be going up on October 11th! And after that, I plan to post some behind the scenes development stuff on days that the comic would normally update- so if folks want to they can get a look at how I put this together. If folks are interested, I could also open up the ask box for a little while? Do a bit of Q&A for comic related things (I won't be answering anything too spoilery, but you're welcome to ask!). And since it has been asked for (and rightfully so, this thing is getting long and difficult to navigate) I've compiled a pinned masterpost to make navigation easier for folks on mobile. There's been an Index Page set up for the web version since the beginning- unfortunately it's hard to get to normally on mobile, so a lot of folks didn't have an easy way to thumb through pages, and that's no good! So- fixed! I'm also in the process of going back and putting "Prev", "Next", "Read from the Beginning", and "Latest" links on each page update. Which honestly I SHOULD have been doing from the start, but hey- live and learn I suppose? Also ALSO am going to see about getting the Neocities page for the comic that I started months ago more finished so it has its own home away from Social Media- but that's a bit lower priority at the moment haha.

But yeah! Honestly, thank you all so much for reading! The response to this silly little passion project has honestly blown me out of the water, I can't believe how many people are keeping up with it now. :'D I love love LOVE reading reactions and speculation in the comments and tags! Thank you all for sticking around so far, and I hope you continue to enjoy this self-indulgent little project as it goes!

~Ann

[amorchai]

hi! will you be posting your Draco fanfics again soon? When Harry Lost Her was literally my favorite read, I’m sad I can’t come back to it :(

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

this is a repost from my old account ( prev. 1,024 notes. )

pairing(s): draco malfoy x reader

summary: after harry potter realises you are in love with draco, he has to watch the relationship blossom.

word count: 2893

warnings/tags: gn!reader, a lot of angst, slight suggestive tones but it's a sfw writing it doesn't indicate anything sexual, confrontation, harry's perspective.

additional notes: the name needed a rebrand and the plot a little bit but i hope you still enjoy it like the last one!

it had been two months.

two months since harry broke up with you. however, to him, it felt you had ended it long before then. in the beginning, you were very happy together, you were the sweetest and funniest person harry had ever met, and still were. you had gone out for over a year, and were content until harry very slowly started to see you fall out of love with him.

not only could you not tell your own misfortune of your relationship at the start yourself, but harry also couldn't help but hold onto you like a lifeline, unwilling to let you go.

draco malfoy, a boy you would constantly bicker towards. a person harry could now see was something more with you than he could’ve anticipated. you were complete opposites from each other. you were a hufflepuff with a kind and soft manner and were dating harry potter – draco’s known nemesis – much different to the slytherin's dark and closed off demeanour along with his hatred for potter.

but harry then noticed how light-hearted it really was, draco didn't go too deep with the insults towards you, and harry would be stupid to not see the certain tension between the two, that being the unspoken feelings that he was sure you were denying you felt just as much as draco was.

harry watched as the relationship between you and draco became much more friendly and companionable, he would see you together more and more, much to harry’s dismay.

the slytherin boy practically flaunted to harry the fact he became too friendly with you, raising his eyebrows in a chaff manner when harry would come to see you in the library where you had told him you were studying. his eyes glued to draco's arm that lay on the back of your seat, a smirk played on the blonde's face upon seeing the shocked look in his enemy's expression.

or the times the victorious look on his face glowed after harry would call you over to the seat he saved for you at lunchtime, to which you would say ‘i need to tell draco something,’ and sit beside him instead. the remainder of lunch harry would have to listen to the very audible laughter emitting from both parties as you converse.

when harry had his nightmares or anxious thoughts he would leave his sweaty bed in the dark of the night and take a walk around the grounds of the school. some nights too anxious he would feel the need to bring his cloak to stay hidden and other days needing the fresh air and freedom, therefore ensuring he isn't caught by teachers or prefects. one specific prefect being draco malfoy, he couldn't risk the mockery and punishment.

so almost two months ago, when he turned the corner to the library to see you and draco walking out together in a deep conversation, harry has reached his breaking point. he watched as draco said goodbye, leaving your side as he walked back to the dungeons. you turned the other way to see your boyfriend standing there.

you smiled innocently at him, which set harry’s teeth on edge, "harry! what are doing here? did you have another bad dream?" you ask, walking over to him and his stern expression. he didn't answer. when you placed your hand on his forearm to balance while you leant on your tippy-toes to kiss his cheek, harry took a step backwards and out your grip.

you looked befuddled from the gryffindor's actions, resting back on the balls of your feet, arms fallen to your sides.

"i can't do this anymore," he finally spoke, his tone spat at you while his hands sat in his pyjama bottom's pockets, almost tearing a hole in them from the tight grip. the second the words left his mouth, harry turned to walk back to his dorm. however, you followed beside him, "what do you mean, harry? you can't say that and then walk away, please." he ignored your question as he continued himself, "why were you with him?", "you mean draco?", "he's insufferable,” harry snaps, "he's my friend."

"i think it's a little more than that." harry's words cause you to gasp quietly, "do you think i would cheat on you?" you asked, shocked, to which the boy shrugged. "i would never cheat on you," "so you love me then, do you?" his question hit you like a ton of bricks all at once, footsteps freezing against the wood.

harry turns his body to face you, awaiting the answer. you sigh, dropping your head and covering your eyes, your sad statement came out almost silent, "i'm sorry, harry." you weren’t able to look him in the eye, finally coming to the realisation that you, in fact, in love with someone else, the boy you merely left a minute ago. "and you love him?", "...i think so" that was enough for harry to hear as he left you in the hallway, returning to his dorm, broken.

now as harry sat at lunch, months after, ron and hermione were squabbling in front of him but their voices fade in the background while his eyes stare beyond his friend's shoulders and to the hufflepuff that sat at the slytherin table. draco had the biggest grin on his face as he leaned down to your ear, whispering words that only you could hear. your laughter evident to the entire hall as your hand sits on his chest to contain yourself. draco’s grey eyes gleaming at the pure happiness you emit.

however, your laughter seizes as you and your ex-boyfriend make eye contact. harry's glare as evident as the fear in yours. you slowly drops your smile along with your hand on draco's chest to fall in his lap. he follows your gaze at the changed behaviour, his small smile also leaving his lips as it turns into a scowl. you smile lightly at draco, saying something to him as he nods in understanding. then, harry watches you stand up before making your way over.

"hi harry," you starts, both his friends stop arguing abruptly as they now listen to you speak, your hands fidget in front of you, standing beside a scowling harry. "can i speak to you?" you ask and he grumbles while nodding, lifting the goblet filled with water to his mouth, grumbling into the metal, "i'm not moving."  you kindly smiles at ron and hermione before sitting down, hands land to the hem of your shirt to tug anxiously.

"harry, i just want to apologise, i know you're upset with me and i'm sorry. i know i've done wrong. you deserve better than how i treated you, and i believe it wasn't fair. i just hope one day you can forgive me and we can be civil again."

harry doesn't speak at first but stares at the table in front of him before finally opting to retort, "so you're with him now?", "i don't want to talk about him. i just want you to know i did love you, and you were a good boyfriend." although that was true, harry could tell you were holding back from being completely honest, probably having your own complaints about harry’s character within the relationship. "that helps, thanks," says harry, sarcastically.

as if on cue, the bell begins to chime, indicating the start of the next classes. you look defeated, a small sigh leaving your lips, turning to who you used to call your close friends. you smile at each other as if now simply acquaintances, ron and hermione greeting you sadly.

standing from the seat, harry watches as you shrug at draco who stands at the far end of the table now waiting on you, both bags over his shoulder, shaking his head in reply with his hand extended for you to take. fingers intertwine as you begin to engage in conversation. the frown draco sends back to the brunette boy once more indicating exactly what you were talking about.

the following week, harry awoke from a terrible dream, sweat covering his forehead and dampening his t-shirt. the sound of dean's heavy grumbling mixed with ron's loud snoring causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand in pure frustration.

harry changes into a new t-shirt before adding his slippers and jumper, walking himself out of the dorms and down the staircases. he makes it all the way to the first-floor corridors, looking out the massive, gaped openings overlooking the owlery, he stared outside out as the moon lights the corridor, a strong gust of wind hitting his jumper as his hands rest calmly on the cold stone colonnades.

his relaxed trance is broken by the sudden patter of heavy footsteps sprinting around the right side of the courtyard hall. goosebumps arise in his skin at the worry of being caught and as he begins to walk towards the left side, he saw who it was. draco and you, holding hands and peering around the corner, causing harry to hide himself behind the wall.

he can hear the sound of draco quietly whispering to be quiet while you can't help but giggle at the nightly antics. you would never break a rule when you went out with harry, constantly telling him you didn't want to get into trouble and it didn't seem fun. however, your laughter with draco indicated your views had long changed since you started dating the slytherin instead.

harry looks over the wall to see you both now standing towards each other and he can't help but step out to get a better view, and since he wasn't thinking straight from the rage in his veins, harry thought he could maybe even tell you off.

"i'm just saying, the kitchen is right next to the hufflepuff common room. if you told me, i would've gotten the food on the way to meet you this way, it would've been easier," you spoke, draco squeezing your hand in his.

"ah yes, easier it may have been but it's more fun this way. plus who am i to let my love carry all the food around while i wait in the library?" my love. harry thinks he may be sick. "you know i could carry it all myself?", "i don't know, darling, you're hands are pretty small," he teases after kissing the back of your hands before leaning his head down. you automatically lean on the toes of your feet, draco capturing your lips into a deep kiss. his fingers leave from grasping your hands to intertwine them together firmly, fingers fidget as your lips move desperately against each other.

harry feels close to his previous nightmarish, spine-chilling state as he watches who he once dated locking lips with the person he hated the most.

draco begins to walk you back against the wall, hands leaving your to settle atop your hips. just as your fingers tangle in his hair and a small grunt emits from the boy's mouth, you’re drawn from the daydream-like haze draco had pulled you into and laugh against his lips while sliding your hands to push him back lightly, "we're not making out here.”

all harry feels is horror. the slytherin boy leans down to give you a much gentler kiss before nodding at you, "i'll meet you in the library, i won't be long, my darling." even in the middle of the night and from a distance, harry can see the deep blush arise at the skin of his cheekbones as you lean up to plant a quick kiss on the pale boy's cheek before walking off in the direction you plan to meet.

harry watches as draco stares at your disappearing figure, a small and unfamiliar smile ghosting his lips as he turns towards the place he was heading to instead come face-to-face with the last person he wanted to see. draco freezes in his footsteps and inhales a sharp breath, his knuckles cracking from his tightened fists as he dismisses harry, walking past him and towards the entrance hall to get to the kitchens. the gryffindor following swiftly behind. "what? nothing to say, malfoy?" he taunts, the flurry of confidence stemming as the other boy clenches his jaw trying to hold his reaction, "no. i don't," is all draco replies.

"well, you must feel pretty good about yourself," harry continues, his face leaning towards the slytherin's side as they walk side-by-side, harry trying to wind draco up as much as he can, desperate for some sort of response but draco just continues walking.

"you must feel damn proud of yourself that you won." harry's comments were flying straight to where draco's anger boiled but the boy was refusing to react harshly to the chosen one for once, "look no one is around, you can just hit me if i'm annoying you and no one will see.”

draco stops in his steps to harshly turn around to the boy, "no, i'm not going to hit you!", "why not? are you a coward?", "no, because y/n will think i started it." he sighs before walking down the length of the great hall tables and towards the door in the back.

"so y/n has you on a leash now?", "i'm not engaging in your pathetic attempt for me to get into trouble." draco seethes, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded as harry continues, "y/n has you behaving like a gentleman now? not even going to argue the person you hate the most?", "leave y/n out of this," draco's voice was quiet but very stern at the mention of your name falling from harry's filthy lips for the second time already.

harry laughs sarcastically, stepping back down in attempt to leave the hall. "pitiful," is the last thing the gryffindor speaks before leaving the hall and back to his dorms, ignoring the urge to go to the library and argue with the person he still loves, for daring to leave him for draco.

it didn't take harry long to realise that the library had become a space the couple overtook. during the day when hermione would drag him and ron there to collect her new books and return old ones, almost every time he would see you both huddled in a corner. sometimes in silence studying comfortably together, however, mostly laughing and sneaking in some kisses as you forget the work in front of each other. during the night he would always see you roaming the corridors, hand in draco’s, mostly in direction to and from the library. harry’s safe and calming walks becoming much more stressful in thought of seeing you together.

horror. a word harry kept relating to this whole scenario. it completely rose in harry's veins when he breaks from his reverie one night, realising that he was in the corridor leading to the room filled with books.

before he could turn and leave the way he came, he heard the all-too-familiar bound of footsteps as the couple left the room, uncaring if anyone was standing outside. harry had his invisibility cloak on much more often since he always ran into you so each of you had no idea your former boyfriend could see.

the terror harry felt only increased at the sight of you, draco’s lips connecting to your neck as you begin to laugh tiredly with your clear kiss-stricken lips. "my salazar, i love you and your laugh." harry hears draco mumble, his mouth still working against your neck gently, and you reply with an enthusiastic and content, "i love you," which tears harry in two. you used to say that to him, and now draco malfoy was graced with your love instead. he had lost you completely now to draco, and harry now knew this.

your hands unjoin as you move yours to fiddle with his very loose tie, one of his reaching to gently rub over your cheek, draco smirking into your jaw as he feels you shiver at his path of kisses.

draco catches sight of your half-closed eyes and pulls back to peck your lips, palm now flat against your cheek to get a good look at you, “you tired, my love?” you lazily smile up at your boyfriend before nodding.

harry watches as draco kisses your forehead, hand slipping naturally back into yours as if you were made for one another. harry’s heart plummets and jealously fills his head, why was it never like this when you were with him?

“let's get you back to my dorm and you can just rest for a little bit, yeah? no more studying tonight,” draco suggests, turning you both in the direction to the slytherin common room. "yes," is all you can muster, "can we read?" you ask, gleaming up at draco as you begin to walk past cloaked harry and in the directions of the staircase.

“course we can.”

harry had lost you before he even broke up with you, but what shattered his heart was having to watch the person he let go, love another so deeply and further than you ever loved him. in that moment upon seeing you trudge off in plans together, harry made a mental note that he had to try and move on, and stay far away from the library at all costs.

amorchai masterlist . taglist

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[modanisgf]

004. BLUE ORANGEADE (HALF WRITTEN)

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minji sighed audibly at the sight of the late group finally coming in, the five gathering around with the others.

she decided to ignore their tardiness, choosing to get on with their meeting.

“so basically as you all know, everyone on the basketball teams has been assigned this year to help the student council with prom.” minji starts, someone’s hand immediately going up.

minji recognized it to be ni-ki from the boys basketball team, mentally preparing herself for a dumb question.

“so why are we here? i thought the whole point of student council was for you guys to organize everything.” ni-ki asks, not noticing the glare he got soon after from danielle and minji.

“there’s only so many of us, planning something as big as prom can’t be done only by us especially with everything else we have to do. and this also happens every year, a random club or sports team gets selected to help plan prom so there’s more outside opinions.” minji responds, feeling at peace with the simple nod ni-ki gave her.

“and how does you guys being understaffed have to do with us?” woonhak asks, groaning soon after at the punch to his shoulder from yn.

minji swore she was about to strangle him, hanni keeping a hand on her arm just in case.

“i already explained that basically, a club or sports team gets randomly selected every year and it just happened to be yours this time around.” minji responds, smiling fakely at woonhak.

“and there’s only so many positions in student council that the school offer to us, that isn’t our choice.” danielle backs minji up.

woonhak goes to speak before being stopped by ningning, confused at the looks his friends were giving him.

“woonhak, can you not piss minji off today?” yn says, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.

“you’re just saying that because she’s friends with your girlfriend. you guys never stop me, what’s wrong now?” woonhak questions, truly confused at the switch up.

“well for one we’re gonna be working with her for the next five months—“ jaehyun starts, being immediately cut off by woonhak.

“FIVE MONTHS?” he whisper yells, alarming some of the people in front of him.

“yes?! prom isn’t until june for us.” jaehyun says, frowning at the look woonhak gives him.

“well anyways the second answer is that it’s not that hard to be a decent person, they all already hate us so why make it worse the last couple months of school.” ningning says, to which yn nods.

“right, and if minji hates your guts what makes you think this is gonna be anymore enjoyable?” yn says, causing woonhak to sigh in defeat.

“fine, but next year it's back on." woonhak says, the rest of his friends rolling their eyes.

haerin couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off of you again today, her gaze making yn feel annoyed.

‘why is she always looking at me if she hates me?’ yn thinks, trying her best to ignore haerin.

yn hoped time would go by fast, she wanted nothing to do with haerin and haerin wanted nothing to do with her. the bad blood would surely start something eventually, right?

yn was taken out of her thoughts by ningning tapping her shoulder, “we need to go create ideas for theme, come on jaehyun and woonhak are waiting.” she says.

yn followed her quickly, ignoring the way haerin’s eyes stayed trained on her. this was going to be a long five months.

TAGS 🏷️ (OPEN) — @jayjj7 @saysirhc @sixflame438 @ajjilhan @amourjins @isither @sserajeans @greenniee @isabbellle @gayforalll @leeohknows @airice @yeetaberry127 @l0l44444 @inosfavgf @emphobics @edamboon @s3mz @newhairnewjeans @xen248 @nooneissheree @wintersgff @haechansbbg @gtfoiydlyj @masuowo @he------len

[chuuyaa-nakaharaa]

Thanks, 'Samu.

*rolling on the floor, groaning.*

— @dazaii-osamuu

Not again.. Get up you idiot!

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 17 . Heterogeneity (2)

a/n: my body's crashing but midterms are ending soon so hopefully I'll be able to sleep

tags: implications of torture (squint really hard to see it), yandere-ish if you squint, Cale is unconscious again

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist prev . next

_____ was walking down in the halls just outside Cale’s room. With nothing better to do after talking to Rosalyn, they decided to go out and help Pendrick heal injured soldiers outside. 

However, not 10 steps in and a certain red-haired man is shoving them back into the room they came from.

“What are you doing out? You should be lying down.”

Surprisingly enough, it’s Choi Han who spoke up and not Cale.

“Even if you heal fast there’s no way a wound that severe has fully closed up.”

The swordmaster had a look of disapproval on his face and _____’s poor heart just dropped. Never in their life had they seen Choi Han this disappointed with them.

“What did you even do yesterday? We still don’t know what happened.”

Cale tucked the healer in bed tightly as if they didn’t wake up just half an hour ago. _____ tried to get back up again but thought against it when they saw how the golden dragon was guarding the door with Choi Han guarding the end of the bed.

“I really don’t need to rest more, I swear my wound is almost healed.”

“Almost healed is different from fully healed. You will stay in this bed until we go back to the underground villa. I won’t take no for an answer.”

That shut _____ up.

However, the silence did not last long.

“Start explaining what the hell happened yesterday. Choi Han told you that you told him about how you discovered something.”

Cale sat at the end of the bed. Meanwhile, Eruhaben moved to sit on the couch with Choi Han taking over his place to stand at the door.

“Huh? Oh yes, it was also back when you guys went to Paerun Kingdom.”

The healer forgot for a moment about what they did yesterday. Mind too clouded by the things they talked about with Rosalyn earlier.

“My powers work like a transfer right? Oh right, Eruhaben-nim didn’t know, I’m sorry. So usually I would absorb someone’s wounds or whatever and then I would give and multiply my vitality right?”

Eruhaben started wondering how he got surrounded by so many unlucky people before his death. However, no one in the room knew about his thoughts.

“It got me wondering if I can do the opposite. You know, transfer and multiply my wound and then get their vitality or something along those lines.”

“Huuu”

Cale couldn’t help but sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“You do know that this wasn’t what Ron meant when he told you to create something of your own, right?”

“It wasn’t? But isn’t it still a good idea.”

“_____-nim… that’s not…”

Choi Han started wondering why his serving two self-sacrificial young masters. Just like with the gold dragon, no one else knew about his thoughts.

“Yes, I know… Rosalyn-unnie already scolded me about it. I’m really sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“And what exactly are you sorry for?”

Cale’s gaze looked as though he was ready to get disappointed by whatever the healer was about to say.

“No really, I know what I did wrong this time. I’ll try not to put myself in danger next time. I’m really sorry for worrying everyone, I know I acted rashly.”

“Try?”

Eruhaben’s voice rang out for the first time since they got inside the room.

“I mean it’s a good ability… I was just unlucky this time because that half-dragon got away before I could steal some vitality… Plus, wouldn’t it be super helpful? Like imagine I have just a tiny cut but when I transfer it to the enemy it can become a lethal wound.”

While Cale is glad _____ is more lively and doesn’t act like a puppet anymore, he's not happy about this newfound stubbornness. Where did the healer even learn it from? But just like the other two men, no one else knew about his thoughts.

The commander doesn’t want to restrict the healer’s movements or freedom. Not only would it be annoying to have to constantly look after them, but it would be similar to how they used to live when they were with the Perduellios.

But at the same time, this discovery is dangerous when left alone.

“Haaa, you’ll only use that ability when it’s an emergency or when I allow you to. Unnecessarily use that power again and see if Beacrox will prepare any more desserts for you.”

Not Beacrox’s desserts, _____ loves those.

The crestfallen healer only nodded in agreement. But honestly, they don’t fully understand why everyone is acting as though they have no self-preservation. It’s not like they won’t heal. Did everyone miss the part when _____ said they can absorb another person’s vitality?

If there’s someone in their group who has no self-preservation it’s gotta be Cale, not them.

True to Cale’s words _____ didn’t get to help out in anything for the remaining time they were in Caro Kingdom. Every attempt of theirs would get shut down by everyone. The healer thought it would get better after they fully healed.

Yes and No

After resting for a bit in the super rock villa, _____ has been allowed to go back to their regular duties. However, Cale stuck the healer to him like glue. From war battles to stealthy operations to more battles. From the Caro Kingdom to the Roan Kingdom to the Western Continent to the Empire. No matter where Cale went _____ is with him. 

Well, not like _____ has a problem with it so they just let it be.

Plus they know that if they want, they can ask Cale anytime to leave them in Leeb-An City or the underground villa.

But they didn’t because just as it eases Cale’s mind to have the healer with him (not that he’d admit it), _____’s mind is also at ease whenever they are with Cale.

Or so it was.

If _____ hated Adin and the White Star before, they loathe them now.

"I-I don't understand, his body is completely fine. I have also replenished his energy however he won't wake up."

It’s been more than a week since the day Cale fainted. Yet he still showed no signs of waking up. To some extent, the healer could tell that the redhead’s body needed rest from overexerting.

But almost two weeks?

Who wouldn’t worry?

The only silver lining to all this is that it gave the Medicus some time to ponder about their feelings. Gave them time to think as to how they’d handle this garden called love whose flowers are blooming more and more in _____’s heart every day.

Ultimately they have decided to not do anything.

What _____ has concluded these days is that the form of love they want to give is support. For them that's what love is, supporting your loved ones even if he's unaware of their feelings. Being there whenever he needs them and expecting nothing in return.

And that’s exactly what the healer did.

They helped in any way they could. From healing the injured to helping with the paperwork. Sometimes Rosalyn and Raon had to remind _____ that they must rest, that they were overworking themself, and that the matters of the empire could wait until they got some rest.

_____ tries their best to listen. However, they would be seen doing the same thing again two days later.

“Cale seems to have like-minded people around him. Are you also not interested in a noble title?”

Alberu and  _____ are sitting across from each other. Both working on their own pile of paperwork.

“Under no circumstances was I ever interested in such things Your Highness. However more than that, I believe it would be unfair for our citizens if the Perduellio’s rise again when they got such a light sentence.”

The crown prince nodded in understanding. As someone who is always thinking about what’s best for the kingdom and its citizens, he could tell where the healer is coming from.

However, there’s a mistake in what _____ said.

A light sentence? That’s far from the truth.

Even thinking about what happened to that family sends a shiver down the quarter Dark Elf’s spine.

The official statement for what happened to the Perduellios is that the entire family have been stripped of their title and all their assets have been seized by the crown. As far as everyone knows they are now somewhere living as peasants.

But isn’t it weird that no one has seen them?

Cale has been… looking after them, for the lack of a better word. Alberu may not know the full story but he surely knows the extent of the young master’s anger.

He low-key wishes he could erase from his mind the condition of that cell and its inhabitants.

“However Medicus-nim, are you aware that you can’t live in hiding forever?”

Alberu pushes his other thoughts away. Why bother dwelling on them when only he, Cale, Tasha, and Beacrox know what happened? For now, he’ll focus on this paperwork and his conversation with the healer.

“Very much so your highness. I have lived my entire life hiding. What is a few years more?”

_____ paused for a second to take a second look at the document they are currently reading.

“However your Highness, the same thing cannot be said for you. This is prime time for you and the other Dark Elves.”

Alberu lets out a hearty laugh at that.

“Of course Medicus-nim. Yet you got one thing wrong. This is also a prime time for you. Worry not as I will surely allow you to live as Roan Kingdom’s Medicus once more. Consider it as my reward for putting up with a certain redhead.”

_____ tried to deny it. Tried to say that they did not need such things. Nonetheless, Alberu did not relent. He and Cale had already agreed that they would let this poor healer live out their life after being used like a tool since childhood.

Plus the blonde is seriously getting tired of Cale ranting about how suffocated _____ is having to wear a mask all the time even if they don’t complain.

"It's fine to be greedy sometimes you know? Sometimes it's all right to take whatever it is you want."

Alberu did not look at _____ as he spoke. Instead, he's looking at the unconscious commander on the luxurious bed.

_____, who understood what the crown prince meant, felt embarrassed. Their face turned into a light hue of pink as they thought of a retort.

However, Alberu did not let them do so. He simply motioned over to the healer with his glance before continuing the paperwork in his hands. _____ followed suit, and soon the room was filled with silence again, the only exceptions being the rustling of papers and their pens scribbling.

bonus-ish: sometimes I can't help but comment while I'm wrting lol

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings

(also it's far too late in the game for me to be asking this but can someone help me figure out why everyone's blogs outside of the first five people in the tag list dont show up. ive been on tumblr since like 2014 and still cannot figure this stuff out im sobbing)

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock | @whore-of-many-hot-men | @nerdisthenewcool | @lilypadmomentum | @1dkneo | @kitsunechan707

Chapter 28

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Your maternity leave had started early, not helped by how active one of your babies was at the crack of dawn.  Every morning when you woke up to the sound of your alarm and rolled over to hoist yourself out of bed, you felt a kick against your abdomen.  When you stood up, you felt that familiar fluttering sensation.  One morning, you slept in only a few minutes longer than you normally did, and were punished with a small shove against your bladder that had you involuntarily unloading your urine into your pajama bottoms.

That one made you cry, Law keeping his chuckles to himself as he helped you clean up in the bathroom.

“Stop berating them through my stomach,” you sobbed.  “I just pissed my pants.”

Your husband had answered you with a soft kiss to your swollen skin as he bent down to pick up your soiled clothing and bring them to your washing machine.  “It happens, darling.  It wasn’t your fault.”

Needless to say, it had been an emotional third trimester thus far.

On a Friday evening, you were sitting reclined against the arm of your couch, a book resting on your belly as you munched on some apple slices when Law came bursting through the door.  He was frantic to kick off his shoes and shrug off his lab coat, hanging it on the hooks in the entryway before scrambling into the living room and plopping himself down next to you.  He was holding a notebook in his hand.

“Hello to you, too,” you stated sarcastically, placing a paper bookmark in your novel to mark your spot and adjusting yourself on the couch to sit with your legs crossed under you.

“I was busy on my break today,” Law stated matter-of-factly, flipping through the wrinkled notebook with a fervor.  When he found the page he was looking for, he folded the journal in half and held out the exposed page to face you.

A bunch of squares and barely legible writing covered the lined paper.  You squinted.  “I have no idea what I’m looking at, babe.”

Law rarely had moments where he got so excited that he couldn’t speak, but this was clearly one of those moments.  He would forget that other people didn’t have over 20 years of medical training going back to the age of five.  “Sorry, sorry.”  He turned the notebook back toward him, using his finger to point out what he had scribbled down.  “These are genetic predictions.  It’s estimated that about 50% of fraternal twins will be opposite genders, so a boy and a girl.  Which means about 25% will be both boys, and about 25% will be both girls.”  He moved his finger from one scribble to another.  “I have black hair, which I’m assuming to be the dominant gene among the two of us.  However, I’m also a carrier for brown hair, because my mother and sister both were brunettes.  Accounting for your hair color, I’m estimating that it’s a 75% chance that both of our babies will have black hair.  At least one of our babies will have my eye color, but I believe your eyes are the dominant trait.  I remember you saying at one point that someone in your family had curly hair, right?  I’m estimating a 25% chance that at least one of our kids will have curly hair.  If both of our babies are boys, the chances are 75% that they’ll be colorblind, and 25% that only one of them will be colorblind.  If both are girls, it’s a 75% chance that both of them will be carriers for the colorblind gene, 25% that only one of them will be.  But again, this is all approximations.  So then I started thinking about more technical stuff.  I have B+ blood, but I couldn’t remember what your blood type was, so we have to go off of the Rh factor, which is dominant with positive Rh, which means that at least one of our babies will have Rh positive blood, likely both.  Male pattern baldness is also a dominant trait in most families, but I’m 26 and still have a full head of hair, so hopefully if we have a boy, he won’t have to worry about hair loss.  Funnily enough, I learned today that having six fingers on one or both hands can actually be a dominant allele in some genetic lines, but neither of our family members have had any form of polydactyly that I can recall.  Just an interesting thought.  Anyway–”

Your shoulders were shaking with your laughter.  “Law, slow down!  Breathe!”  Your hands reached forward to grab his shoulders to settle his excited rambling, his face slowly losing color as he was speaking more than he was absorbing oxygen.

You watched as your husband took a long gulp of hair in before blowing it out slowly.  “Sorry.  I got excited.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re adorable,” you replied, stroking your hand along his cheek.  “How long did it take you to write all that down?”

Law glanced one more time at his notebook before closing it and discarding it on the coffee table.  “About 15 minutes.”

You snorted.  “I hope intelligence is a dominant trait so that both of our kids will be as smart as you.”

“You’re smart too,” he argued back, his voice light and content.

“Not ‘scribble down multiple punnett squares in 15 minutes’ smart,” you countered.  “Have you eaten anything yet?”

He shook his head, stretching his arms behind his back.  “Nope, I came straight home.  I was too excited to show you that.”

You grinned, struggling to lean forward to kiss the tip of his nose.  He assisted you by leaning forward on his own legs, pressing his forehead to yours.

“How have you been feeling?” he asked suddenly, diverting the topic.  One of his hands came to rest on the crest of your belly, petting the taught skin through your shirt.

“Tired,” you replied.  “It’s hard to stand up.  Robin said both babies are probably around 2 or 3 pounds by now, but honestly it feels like I’m carrying lead weights when I stand.  I feel like a turtle.”

“Any more movement?” he asked, scooting over the cushions to be closer to you, wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders to pull you into him.  You gladly followed his gesture, dropping your head into his neck.

“One of them moves in the morning still, the other likes to kick when I go to bed.  The only reason I’ve been able to tell is because I feel them on different sides,” you groaned.  “I don’t know what it looks like with them folded up in there, but they haven’t made it easy on me.”

Law hummed in response, his free hand stroking your belly.  The feeling of his palm against your bump felt more soothing than the finest lotion.  “I’m just glad that they’re both okay… not like I’m thrilled that you’re in pain, obviously, but…”

“No, trust me, I am too,” you sighed, closing your eyes.  “I’ve made it this long now, and both of them are still alive.  And pretty soon…”

Your husband knew exactly what you were going to say when your voice trailed off.  It was a subject the two of you had been tip-toeing around for quite some time.

The birth.

“That’s the one thing that’s still scaring me,” you admitted.  “I’m already high risk, and anything could go wrong.  I might have to be ripped open while awake to get them out.  I might die, even.”

Law felt his chest clench.  “Don’t say that, you won’t die.”

“But we don’t know that,” you sighed, your voice growing more nervous by the second.

“No, you won’t die,” he replied firmly.

You felt mildly guilty for broaching the subject.  You knew how difficult it was for him to even think about the slim chance of losing his family again, not when he had come so far and achieved so much with you.  You leaned your head upward to kiss the soft skin of his neck, his sideburns tickling your forehead.  You felt his arm around your shoulder pull you even closer to him, his breaths shallow.

“I’m sorry…” you muttered.

“Don’t be,” he responded quickly.  “I mean it.  You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His hand dropped from your belly to grasp your own, tilting his head down to meet your own as his lips gently pressed against yours.  Your eyes slipped closed, leaning into his tender kiss and wrapping your free arm around his torso.  The size of your belly made it hard to be flush against him, but you made do.  After all, you would have to get used to cuddling with two babies soon enough.

You pulled away from his lips.  “Hey, so how’s the studying been?  For that surgery?”

Law groaned, not at you, but at the mere thought of the looming procedure that had been bearing on his mind for the past eight weeks.  “I feel like I’m back in med school, that’s for sure.  I feel ready for it, but at the same time I can never be too prepared.  It’s going to be… a lot.”

Dual heart-lung transplants were very, very rare, and used for the most severe of cases.  The procedure had never been performed at Law’s hospital before.  Single heart transplants had been done, and a few lung transplants, but never at the same time.  Law’s cardiac ward was specifically chosen for the operation because of the young doctor’s expertise in the field.  The patient’s life was quite literally in Law’s hands.

A small smirk flashed on his face.  “I started wearing gloves in that patient’s room with his family.  I don’t want them to see the tattoos on my fingers.”

“Do you not wear gloves for any other patients?” you asked with a small giggle.  

“No, I do, when performing treatments.  When I’m on rounds, I just stick my hands in my pockets,” he explained.  He had one dimple on his cheek that showed up when he smiled.  You couldn’t help but peck a quick kiss to it.  His stomach suddenly grumbled, startling the two of you.

“You stay right here, I’ll make us some dinner,” he said, making a move to stand up.

“Pancakes,” you demanded with your own mischievous smirk.

“We had pancakes a week ago,” he replied with a smile.

“And?”

Law leaned down for one last kiss on the crown of your head.  “Alright.  Pancakes it is.”

—

Your pregnancy journal had gone from an anxious possession that you worried would jynx your good luck to a vice that you crawled back to whenever you were bored.  The pages were filled with the ink from your pen as you used the prompts to delve into some of the thoughts you kept to yourself, your feelings about your body, your babies, your relationships, the hopes and dreams and the worries and troubles you tried not to stress about.  You kept track of the gifts you had received, the words of advice from your doctor, and the unprovoked comments from elderly ladies at the supermarket who liked to comment about how cute of a couple you were when you shopped for food with your husband.

The grouchy, black-haired surgeon with bags under his eyes and a resting bitch face, and you, his slightly shorter, glowing wife with a very large pregnant belly and a polite, shining smile on her face.  You were truly a match made in heaven, one might say.

Law had been busier and busier in the weeks getting closer to your due date.  As the weather got colder, the holidays came and went, and the new year began, he was diving more and more into his studies preparing for what was easily the largest, most intense, and most serious surgery of his professional career.  Some might assume that you would get tired of the neglect, growing frustrated that he wasn’t around to spend time with you in your third trimester, but in reality, you couldn’t be more proud.

The sight of him hunched over your kitchen table surrounded by old textbooks and papers was an image straight out of your college days, where you’d let yourself into his single dorm room close to midnight and find him on his floor in the dim lighting surrounded on all sides by professional journals, research papers, and textbooks from every esteemed surgeon in his field.  You’d sit down next to him and diligently push french fries against his lips as his eyes stayed glued to his studies, rewarding you during his sparse downtime with awkward kisses that tasted like salt and firm yet shaky hands that were obsessed with traveling up and down your body.  

The only difference now was that Law was that professional in his field, that he was in an apartment, and that you both had rings on your fingers.  The french fries stayed the same, but he at least had a piece of mind to feed himself while you watched from the couch and giggled.  Every once in a while, he would lean back against his seat and pop his spine with a satisfied groan, toss you a fond look across the room, and go back to reading.  Sometimes, you would stand behind him and rub his stiff shoulders, encouraging him to stand up and stretch his legs just as he would do to you to ensure you remained strong during the final weeks of your pregnancy.

The only thing weighing on your mind was the panging worry that he would be in the middle of this massive procedure when you went into labor.  You were both informed by your doctor that most twins would be delivered either naturally or induced at around 36 weeks, almost a month before single babies were usually born, and with your due date at 38 weeks being in the middle of May, you had a nagging feeling in your head that he would miss it.

You both tried to hold onto hope that your babies would be delivered any other day that month.  He would be gone for only a day, a full 24 hours, in total the day of the surgery.  What were the odds that your babies would be born on that specific day?  Slim, to say the least.

At around 32 weeks, it was getting hard for you to stand up.  Your movements were slow and labored, and you were spending most of your days in your apartment either on your couch or in your bed, standing up when instructed by Law, or Shachi and Penguin when he was at work, to walk laps around your home.  The fear of blood clots forming in your legs and traveling to your lungs, as described by your lovely husband in far too much detail, was enough to make you more determined to keep the blood pumping in your body.

“Alright, ready?” Law stated, standing behind you in the kitchen as you slowly made your way through a pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“Ready,” you stated back, your eyes focused on washing the silverware in your hands.

His inked hands traveled around your torso and under your belly, lifting up against the bottom of your bump.  The sudden relief of having the weight lifted off of your back made an almost erotic moan leave your lips, your grip on the silverware releasing slightly as the tension in your entire body flooded from your veins like a broken dam.

“Feel good?” he asked from behind you with a smirk, his chin resting on the crown of your head.

“Oh my god,” you groaned.  “I saw a lot of posts that said that it feels good, but I didn’t think it would feel this good.  I wish you could do that constantly.”

Sparse kisses were placed to the back of your head as his hands slowly released their pressure against the bottom of your bump, leaving your back aching once more as your body was forced to bear the brunt of the weight in your abdomen.  You stifled a whimper as you were forced to hold what felt like 50 extra pounds on your own again, but Law’s lingering presence behind you with his hands resting idly on your belly soothed your aches subconsciously.

“Busy spring, huh?” he asked, filling the room where the only other sound was the sloshing from your dish washing.

You hummed in response, rinsing your hands and turning off the tap, drying your hands on a towel that lay on the counter beside you.  “You could say that.”  You turned around to lean against the counter, Law’s hands remaining on your body as you rotated.  He leaned forward to capture your lips in his, you rewarding him with a smile.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to be more physical with you…” you sighed.

Law pulled away.  “Why are you sorry for that?”

You shrugged.  “You seem like you’ve been a lot more handsy with me lately, and I can’t reciprocate.  And I’m probably not going to be able to reciprocate for a while after I give birth.”

Your husband chuckled, planting chaste kisses across your cheeks.  “I’m not ‘being handsy with you’ because I want anything.  I’m ‘being handsy’ because I want you to be happy and comfortable.  I’m not expecting anything in return.  And by the way,” he pulled away to stare into your worried eyes.  “I know what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking about your post-birth body being somehow inferior to how you were before pregnancy, I know it.”

You averted your gaze, your lips pinching together.

“And I know you don’t like the stretch marks on your belly,” he added.

“Where are you going with this?” you asked, your voice quiet.

“Because I’m going to remind you every day how beautiful you are.  Always.  Even the changes that come with having a child.  You’re always going to be beautiful to me.  I’ll never be repulsed by your stretch marks or wrinkled skin or cellulite like you think I’m going to be.  The person standing in front of me is a beautiful woman who has given me a life worth living, and I’m going to cherish her and support her through everything.”

Your eyes darted toward his neck, where his glass necklace still sat between his collarbones.  He religiously wore it every single day, only taking it off to shower, sleep, and perform surgeries.  Likewise, you never removed your glass ring.  Hot tears began to form in your eyes, but your lips curled into a smile.  Your expression fought for dominance over being happy or sad, and what resulted was a shaky grin, furrowed eyebrows, and watery eyes.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you asked, letting a few lose tears escape the corners of your eyes.

Your husband kissed the damp streaks that your tears left behind on your cheeks.  “You fed me french fries on the floor of my dorm room in college.  I think that’s when I knew you were going to be my wife one day.”

A bubbly laugh left your throat as your hands gripped his shoulders for stability.  “I think I knew when you found me out behind my dorm building that night.”

Law leaned in to kiss you one more time, but a sudden gasp left your lips as your entire body tensed up.  A stinging cramping sensation rippled across your abdomen, lingering in your muscles.  It lasted about 30 seconds, where your shaking hands clenched the cotton of Law’s shirt, his eyes wide and frenzied as his hands supported your upright posture, before the pain finally dissipated into a mild buzz, then nothing at all.

You stared into Law’s eyes.  “Can you help me sit down?”

[frogsinflannel]

🐸🐸🐸🐸🎉

YES ALL THE FROGS~ also, I am painfully aware that I have changed tenses in this story SO MANY TIMES already. Let's all hold hands and ignore it together.

[ first | second | third | fourth | this part ]

(takes place almost immediately after the prev part)

Buck lay stiff for a moment and then with one big push he flops over onto his belly and groans into the pillow.

Tommy Jr. ribbits a few times from his tank and Buck wants to believe that it was out of concern.  That seems as likely as anything else, right?

“I promised Eddie I’d try to call you,” he says.  He holds up his phone and shakes it for emphasis.  Frog eyesight wasn’t something he’d come across in his research so he isn’t sure if Tommy Jr. can see it or not.  He lifts his head and peers with one bleary eye at where the tank sits.  Tommy Jr. is near the side of it, staring.  He ribbits again.

Buck twists sideways and then sits up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed.  There’s Tommy’s number, still in his call log from when he’d tried before.  He taps his number on the screen and then holds his phone up to his ear.  He bites on his thumbnail and keeps his eyes on his frog.

It rings and rings.  Nobody answers.  Finally that automated voice comes on telling him the mailbox is full and he can’t leave a message.  Buck hangs up and sighs.  “See?” he says.  He holds the phone up again and gives Tommy Jr. a mirthless smile.  He feels tired and defeated–even if he is right and everyone starts believing him, what good will that do?  Tommy still isn’t here.  He didn’t want Buck when he was a human and he probably doesn’t want him now that he’s a frog.  Buck scrubs a hand through his hair and tosses his phone into the center of the bed.  He pads over to the chest of drawers.

“Hi,” he says, leaning down and resting folded arms on the top of it.  He puts his chin down onto his forearm so his face is even with the tank.  Tommy Jr. looks plump and moist, probably healthy, so at least Buck is taking good care of him.  “I miss you,” he says.  “Goddamnit Tommy, I miss you so much.”  He sucks in a breath and puts a hand on top of the tank.  “If you’re in there… please.”  He closes his eyes and puts his forehead against the glass.  “Please.  I don’t know what to do to help you.  I don’t know how to get you back.  I’m sorry.”

Ribbit.  Tommy Jr. moves closer and does it again.  Ribbit.

It’s not as good as Evan, Buck thinks, feeling wrung out and pathetic and so, so heartsick.  But he’ll take what he can get. 

~~~

make me write

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[kynimdraws]

Is it gay to camp with ur bf and ur ex?

To see the story drabbles the prev part is here (all entries tagged under "#Hunter and the Mask Verse Story") Yone design ref for this verse can be seen in detail here

Let's find out under the cut lmao

Over a week had passed since they started their long trek through the desert to reach Nazumah. There had been some encounters with stray Bacci and dune hounds, which were taken care of relatively quickly. It was also fascinating for Yone to see K'sante in action: in the dense forests of Ionia he was far more careful about his swings with the ntofos. But in the vast dunes of Shurima, he seemed more in his element. The power and grace of his moves just seemed to belong here. Of course Yone's soul-sword techniques were sufficient to dispatch foes as well.

During one of the nights (K'sante figured that it would take another day or two to reach the outskirts around Nazumah), they suddenly find a relatively large party pass by. K'sante and Yone tense, since it was initially unknown whether this traveling group was friend or foe until…

"Tope!" K'sante calls after recognizing his former lover.

The two embrace and laugh, and the tension disappears immediately from everyone. The two parties set up camp.

"Traveling by night too? So not a hunt, I presume? Where are you headed?"

"No hunt. And I was about to go to Nazumah to warn the council there about…suspicious activity at the Sun Disc."

Tope informs that through Taliyah, there has been some unrest between Xerath's Magus cult and Azir's newly built Empire following. While the independent Shurima nations were aware of this building conflict due to the increased activity of soldiers, cultists, and Baccai…there never have been full on war.

"While I would just let those two fight until both no longer walk this earth, their violence might bleed into innocent tribes and nations that want nothing to do with them. And there are tales of Azir's descendant that may be able to sway the crazy emperor, and I wanted to recruit able-bodied people for the cause."

K'sante nods. His mother, who was one of the Nazumah councilwomen that ran the city-state, would surely agree with Tope's plan. But instead of assuming it was much better for them to get an audience with the netire council.

"Then I will help, and I will be guessing Nazumah will also support. With me and you, and others at our side…we will be unstoppable!"

Then the two men chatter about trivial things, mostly catch up with one another. Throughout this Yone quietly listens in, somehow finding himself sitting between them. He would have been content just being an observer, but Tope was not the type to let that pass.

"So, who is your travel companion K'sante? He isn't Shuriman that is for sure."

"Ah, about that…"

Tope holds up his hand, a signal for stop K'sante from talking.

"I know you are a great storyteller, but I want the stranger to answer."

Yone chuckles at that, and concedes. With SOME interjections from K'sante, Yone retells how the two had met and now are traveling back. Tope in the meanwhile that brought out some palm wine that was shared between the three.

"I see," Tope finally remarks after the storytime ends. "I am glad you found good company with K'sante. By the way did you know…"

Before K'sante would stop him, Tope started talking about some of his adventures with the man. Yone is very amused by much of them, especially whenever K'sante would awkwardly say how much of a reckless idiot he used to be in those earlier times.

As they finally settle to rest for the day, K'sante claims he needed to sleep early and steps out from the campfire. Seeing that Yone was not quite ready to join K'sante, Tope comes closer to talk to the man in private.

"So…how do you like him?"

Yone starts.

"What do you mean?"

"A man does not merely follow another man to his homeland just for saving him. You could have just stayed back in Ionia. To remain as good friends. But it seems there is something more than that."

Tope smiled warmly. Yone meanwhile felt a bit awkward, especially given how Tope was…K'sante's former lover. He just looks away and stays silent.

"For the record, I was not making fun of you," Tope starts up the conversation again. "I think you are good for him. He is not perfect, but I can see that he cares and is a better man especially towards you."

He laughs a little.

"If anything, it is quite funny seeing him tiptoe around you like you are a frightened dune gazelle, because he is usually much more direct about his feelings. I was surprised he introduced you as just a 'friend' after hearing all you went through."

"Oh?" Yone finally responds.

"K'sante is like a desert storm sometimes, he will just charge and say his piece. But with you…he is being gentle. As if he wants you to say something first. I think even if you reject him, he'll respect your decision."

Tope chuckles again, pouring the last of the palm wine for both.

"A toast, to whatever path you take in your life. Regardless of how you go with K'sante, knowing what you know now."

Yone nods and toasts to Tope's health in return. Finally the two eventually turn in for sleep.

[hybeboyenthusisast]

☆ twenty-seven ☆

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The girls really didn't plan on just randomly barging into the HYBE building, but you wanted to surprise Kai. Over the course of the last few weeks, as both PROMISE and TXT prepared for their own comebacks, you and Kai had barely seen each other. You would struggle to find the time for phone calls or even to text because they were both so busy. A free chunk had finally opened for you and the girls, and you knew you were going to use it to visit your kind-of boyfriend and your friend.

You had still only been on one date, and while you definitely acted more like a couple, no labels were used nor was a conversation had regarding your relationship status. You had been a bit disappointed, especially as your time spent talking began to dwindle. Alas, you both were legally required to keep comeback preparations quiet until your respective companies announced it. Your comebacks had been announced just days apart, and both you and Kai then realized why there had been a big change in availability on both ends.

PROMISE had been working on the comeback for months already, but as the comeback date came closer and closer, you became even busier trying to perfect everything. This was, of course, the exact situation that Kai and the rest of TXT found themselves in with every comeback.

Looking forward to seeing your two favorite members of TXT, you didn't even mind that all the girls decided to tag along. Nobody else seemed to mind, either; HYBE staff letting you in with a smile and reminding you what floor was dedicated to TXT. Beomgyu, though, definitely minded, as he had practically run away after begging you to send him the selfie you and the girls had taken. The girls were all staring after him, wondering what was going on with the strange boy.

"Beomgyu?" You shouted, furrowing your eyebrows as she watched the energetic boy come to a sudden stop, staring at his phone, before quickly turning around and running back over.

"Why are you here?" He asked; his tone was not laced with malice, only curiosity. His brown eyes flitted from each girl's face, looking for anyone to answer.

Rae had opened her mouth to answer, probably with some sarcastic remark, but Yue cut her off. Literally, by covering Rae's mouth with her hand. "Yn came to see Kai, we decided to tag along," Yue answered. She bowed to Beomgyu, moving her hand from Rae's mouth to the back of her neck and pulling her down into a bow too. Lizi and Chae, awestruck by the famous boy and baffled by his behavior, quietly followed along and bowed.

"Oh," Beomgyu exhaled quietly, bowing in greeting to the members of PROMISE he had never met. "Soobin and Taehyun are on their way."

"You spoiled our surprise visit?" You whined, lightly smacking Beomgyu on the arm. He whined, too, mumbling incoherently about your violent nature while rubbing his arm.

Arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you backwards into a sturdy yet squishy chest. Your heart leapt out of your chest at the sudden invasion of privacy, quickly twisting your body out of the stanger's grasp. Chae and Lizi giggled quietly as your whole body relaxed when you saw the face of the touchy-feely stranger.

"Kai, you scared the shit out of me," you pouted, stepping back into his arms. You felt his laugh, rumbling in his chest, as you rested your head against him. He squeezed you gently, pulling you closer as you wrapped your arms around him.

You smiled as you felt Kai place a gentle kiss atop your head, pulling away from the hug. "You're so cute," he muttered, a goofy grin on his face.

"Ew, get a room," Rae fake gagged, pretending to throw up. Chae gathered Rae's hair in a ponytail, helping the fake-puking performance. Familiar laughter reached your ears, making everyone turn towards the source. Soobin and Taehyun smiled as they approached the ever-growing group.

You briefly overheard the introductions between TXT and PROMISE, but you were now busy with your own conversation. Or, rather, you were busy following Kai as he led you away from the chatter. "Where are we going?" You questioned, looking around the hallway as you passed open door after open door. Recording studios, conference rooms, the practice room; all the doors were open, likely being used throughout the day. Kai winked at you, placing a finger to his lips in a 'shh' motion, hinting for you to stay quiet.

"Yn-" You even heard Yeonjun say your name, coming from one of the many rooms, but Kai only sped up, his hand squeezing yours as you followed along.

You finally came to a stop at the end of a hallway, Kai ushering you into a small recording studio littered with plushies. You briefly noticed the plushie you had won for Kai at the arcade sitting right on the desk chair, before Kai had gently pushed you onto the couch and hovered over you.

"Hi, baby," he mumbled, cooing when the pet name made you blush. You mumbled a small hello in response, one hand cupping his cheek and your other hand on his waist. "I missed you. You look so beautiful."

You laughed, eyes twinkling as you stared up at the man you loved. "You must be looking in a mirror, Kai. I missed you too."

Kai grinned, leaning down and capturing your lips in a brief kiss. Sweet, but brief, leaving you wanting more. He pulled away too soon, moving to help you sit up before relocating to the desk chair, the plushie now sitting in his lap. "I'm working on a song, not for the comeback, at least not this one. Do you want to hear what I've got so far?"

You nodded eagerly, wiggling around on the couch to find a comfortable position. "Of course I do! Play it, play it!" You cheered enthusiastically, happy that Kai trusted you enough.

"C'mere," Kai said, moving the plushie from his lap and patting his leg, signaling for you to sit on his lap. You did as he asked, situating yourself on his lap, snuggling back into his chest as he placed the headphones over your ears, kissing your cheek.

Sometimes you found yourself wishing you weren't an idol, so you could have more time to spend with Hiyyih, Yeonjun, and especially Kai. But the truth was, however, that you never would have met Yeonjun or reconnected with Kai if you hadn't pursued your dreams. You were very lucky, you knew that, and even more so to be sitting in Kai's lap, listening to the song he was working on. You felt your heart swell with pride as the music all at once eased your stress and hyped you up. "I'm so proud of you," you whispered, turning your head to gently press a kiss on his lips.

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