#Department of Mysteries Battle

[nidamae-approvedhpfanfics]

A Study in Consequences

Post Battle of Hogwarts only Hermione testifies for Draco. She returns for 8th year at Hogwarts where things aren't smooth.

Years later after completing 2 Masteries, Kingsley calls Hermione and Draco home to work on the problem of the drastically low birthrate and high squib rate.

An 8th year fic, going onto a years later reunion rolled into a marriage law. Eventual Bill x Hermione. Many side-pairings.

M, English, Drama & Romance, chapters: 12, words: 32k+, favs: 16, follows: 35, updated: Jul 31 published: Jul 28, [Hermione G., Bill W.] Draco M., Theodore N.

[xixiao-yankai]

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Prongs is the sun

And when the sun dims,

Only the star and the moon are left to guard the darkness.

The day James was killed was the day the First Wizarding War ended.

Sirius falls in battle as the Second Wizarding War began.

Remus dies fighting, at the darkest hour before dawn.

The legend ends.

No Marauder lived to see victory.

Mischief Managed…

[yuri-sorted-into-ravenpuff]

Tags: Battle at the Department of Mysteries. Use of Guns. Torture under Crucio. Violence. Body parts being shot at. Bleeding.

Everything is going wrong.

His friends are all still alive, but they were struggling to keep up with the Death Eaters. Though one could observe that they were rather calm and focused, thinking rapidly of strategies and spells to overcome or at least shield themselves from the rather skilled duelers that are on the Dark Lord's side, it isn't really a fair fight.

Right from the start they were at a disadvantage. He hadn't taught any of them dark curses and spells to easily throw off enemies, he hadn't taught them auror-level tactics and the likes and only relied on the books in the library as well as Hermoine's own repertoire.

They were doomed.

"So, you see, Potter," Lucius Malfoy said stepping towards him, an arrogant lithe to his steps, "you think that you have what it takes to defeat us, but it seems that you have overestimated yourselves."

Mocking laughs echoed around the room, though he knew that it didn't get to him and his friends. He eyed each and every single one of them, all held at a wand point by witches and wizards that were well-learned in all kinds of curses and spells. Even if they managed to distract them to run, they would undoubtedly catch up or worse, they'll have no qualms but to cast THAT one unforgiveable on them.

They were only giving him and his friends a chance because of the prophecy on his hand.

"Come on itty-bitty Potter! If you don't give Lucy the prophecy," Neville groaned as the crazy woman harshly tugged him towards her and pointed her wand on her neck, "I'll assure that he'll also have a place with his parents on the hospital ward."

He himself felt Lucius Malfoy cast an Imperius on him, though he did throw it off after a minute or two. Usually, it wouldn't last that long but he was dead tired, and he was certainly not focused on throwing the unforgiveable off of him.

But it did hurt like hell trying to fight it off.

"Nice try," he took a deep breath as his legs turned to jelly making him fall on the floor, "Malfoy." He could see Ron gritting his teeth, his face turning the same shade as his hair, obviously enraged.

"Harry!" Though it was Hermoine that was the first one to call to him. He tried to turn towards where Hermoine is, but before he could, Malfoy casted the crucio on him, making him convulse and shout in pain. It seems that playtime is over then, they really wanted to get the prophecy from him.

"Come on! Let's give these children a taste of what real life is!"

One by one, despite his own suffering under the curse, he could hear each of his friend's shout. The loudest of them all was Ron, though it didn't seem like it was out of pain, but rather out of anger. He could barely hear Luna's, but hers were the most painful ones to hear as it was small whimpers here and there, too choked up to scream.

Neville's started off quite strongly, but as time passed by it occasionally stops then starts again. It seems that the Lestranges were taking turns on him. Hermoine's screams were muffled, as if she doesn't want to give these people what they want to see. Ginny's was continuous, but abruptly stopped after two minutes.

His friends' voice gradually stopped, but there was one that was left behind. He realized it was his.

"S-Stop! Stop it!" Ginny shouted, though her voice was coarse. Ron tried standing up and walking towards him, though he was still twitching in pain.

"That's too much! Stop it!" This time it was Hermoine.

"Harry!" Neville tried crawling towards him but to no avail.

It was quite miraculous that he was noticing these things while under the spell. Lucius Malfoy may be a coward but he isn't lacking in the dark spell's department. The bastard can hold a dang spell if he wants to.

After what seems like forever (which later on Hermoine would inform Sirius that it was actually a total of six minutes of him under the spell), Lucius Malfoy stopped. He himself was twitching, he was breathing hard, but he has a crazy glint in his eyes.

"Now Potter, I don't think you have the ability to stand. I shall take this now." Malfoy started reaching towards the prophecy. He gritted his teeth, focusing on the goal despite having been under a painful spell for more than a minute. He clucked his tongue, a signal that his friends have been waiting for.

"What was that for, Potter? Are you unsatisfied with what has happened to you?" Malfoy said, a mocking grin present in his face. He turned his head towards the Malfoy patriarch, an equally mocking grin on his face to which the blonde scoffed at. However, he could see Hermoine subtly taking something nearby her feet.

The Death Eeaters didn't notice, or they were confident enough to believe that just because their wands were not with them, that they have nothing more to use. Well, his close circle of friends have a very special training session that he and Hermoine conducted, as two of the only people that really grew up in the muggle world.

"Bang." He said.

Two consecutive bangs echoed around the room, followed by a scream and an ominous thud. Hermoine and Ron, the ones most comfortable with a gun, have shot two Death Eaters. Hermoine shot hers on the forehead, while Ron's on the wand hand.

Despite the excruciating pain on his body, especially on his nerves that made a few of his body parts twitch, he quickly brought out his own gun from a holster that was on his ankle.

He shot the frozen Malfoy patriarch on his wand hand, with the man's wand being destroyed. The wood screamed as it broke landing behind the man along with his thumb and pointing finger.

"What is happening?" Rabastan Lestrange's unfortunate last words as Neville shot him directly from his stomach. He let go of his wand, falling down to eventually bleed to his death. Rodolphus Lestrange tried coming to his brother's aide, a spell on his lips thinking that he should just close his brother's devastating wound. But Neville, though he was the most reluctant one out of them all, shot him on both of his shoulder rendering him useless and bleeding.

"That was for my parents, you bastards." The only one left uninjured was Bellatrix Lestrange, who was frozen standing in her place, unsure of what she should do.

The minute Neville shot his own captives, Luna and Ginny did the same, though one could say it was Ginny's shots that were the most brutal. She was lying flat on her face when they got the signal, she immediately took the gun strapped on her right leg, looking for an opportunity to do her thing.

When the commotion arises, her two captives both stepped near her, as if debating on what they should do now that they do not have the upper hand. She scoffed as she loaded her own gun, these pureblood wizards do not even know how to make shields against muggle weapons.

"Can your dark magic stop this?" She aimed in between the legs of the two Death Eaters holding her, and a total of four shots came out of her gun. The two Death Eaters screamed in pain, making them drop their wands and fall on their backs. Luna Lovegood's own captors tried helping their fallen allies, with them shooting a rather dark spell that Ginny is unfamiliar with towards her. She jumped out of the way, while Luna simultaneously shot the caster on his wand hand, redirecting the spell towards their fallen comrades.

The poor (not really) Death Eaters started screaming as their veins started boiling.

"That was a rather dark spell," Luna said, walking towards the man who casted it. Ginny have shot Luna's other captor down and was proceeding to help Hermoine and Ron's with theirs and trying to move a bit closer. Though she is not hesitant to pull out a gun, she knows that their ammo is limited, and she should not waste so much on trying to kill every enemy present (which she would if she could).

"Luna! Don't play with the enemy!" Hermoine shouted, as she shot another Death Eater on the head. Ron, on the other hand, favors to aim on the legs, incapacitating them and then proceeding to get their wands out of their reach.

"Sorry!" The blonde answered. She hummed, aiming the gun directly on the man's heart.

"You know," she has the man's full attention, who is also cradling his bleeding wand hand that was missing a few fingers, "not even nargles are crazy enough to steal what I'm carrying right now." The man could only look at her in confusion before she shot the man dead on his chest, at the part of where his heart is.

Ginny witnessed all of this, clapping and laughing at what Luna said.

"Why are you laughing there?!" Neville asked, a satisfied smile on his face. Behind him are two bleeding Lestranges, with one Bellatrix clutching both her hands that are missing a few fingers and one of her legs bleeding profusely.

"Luna is a menace! I'm so proud of her," Ginny wiped away imaginary tears, walking towards Luna who is giggling as well. Almost all of the Death Eaters are incapacitated, with the exception of Lucius Malfoy that is. But he is still staring at his destroyed wand, not far from it are his two fingers that his sight is also looking at from time-to-time.

"Harry!" Both Ron and Hermoine ran towards the still down boy. He is still shaking, which had them all wondering just how the boy had a perfect aim on Malfoy Senior's wand hand.

"It seems that the extra time really paid off, guys." Harry said, though a shiver could still be heard in his voice. Luna tried to walk towards him as well, only to fall from the painful twitching on her left leg. Neville grunted and approached her and Luna, loading his gun with another run.

"I wish we could have bought those machine guns thingy." Ginny whined, favoring her left side, "then these bloody Death Eaters would have been gone in a flash." A chuckle broke out of Harry as Ron and Hermoine helped him in standing up.

"Honestly Ginny, we were lucky that we talked to someone willing enough to sell us these glocks." Hermoine answered to which Ron grunted in agreement.

"But still, who would have thought that my ickle brother Ron has connections in the muggle world? And even Harry for that matter." Harry winced as the two tried to help him stand up, only for his right feet to start twitching. Well, there goes his plan to sleep it off. He's pretty sure that it is not normal.

"Those blokes were alright people, I guess. Met them when I wandered around at night." Ron said, giving up on helping Harry stand up. They all are still pretty twitchy, but most especially Harry who was under the curse for a full six minutes and is being casted by a rather crazed Malfoy.

"What in the hell happened here?!" Someone asked rather loudly. Which really isn't the right thing to do around armed and twitchy teens. To their surprise, it was Neville who took the first shot. He was so fast in locating where the voice came from and in aiming at the person who foolishly surprised them.

"GUYS! GUYS! It's me!" Sirius was fortunate that Neville is still practicing on his aim. He missed, which he is really very very thankful for.

"Oh, Sirius," Luna greeted in her usual dreamy voice, though she winced as she tried to walk towards the man. Said man looked at the carnage before him, unsure of how to react. Other Order of the Phoenix members started apparating in, wands at the ready for a battle.

But of course, the battle has long been finished, with the enemies bleeding to death slowly. Everyone was stunned, with Lucius still shellshocked at what happened, and the still alive Death Eaters silently crying in pain.

"Uh... I think Rabastan Lestrange is dead." Neville said after a moment of silence. This set off a chain reaction, with Bellatrix screaming so loud and horribly. She looked even crazier now than before, with her husband and her brother-in-law bleeding alongside her. Other incapacitated Death Eaters started shouting as well, with one of them trying to stand up, only to shout in pain as another bullet embedded itself on the man's right leg curtesy of Ron.

"What happened? What did you guys do?" Remus asked, the first of the order to break out of their shock. Hermoine stood up and started telling everyone what happened. Harry told Ron to secure Malfoy, to which the red head immediately followed. He brought out something from the back pocket of his jeans and pushed a small amount of magic on it.

It enlarged to its original size, showing that it was a rope. He walked towards the frozen man, moving him around and tying him up with a knot that Hermoine taught him. By the time he was finished, Hermoine got to the part where they were crucio'ed.

"All of you?! Are you guys alright?! We should get you to a mediwizard and quick!" At the mention of crucio, other order members started moving. Tonks moved towards Luna and Ginny, looking at their wounds and if there were any aftereffects left behind by the curse. Kingsley went to Neville, while Remus approached Ron and Hermoine.

Sirius, familiar with the effects of the curse, rushed towards Harry's side.

"Whoever casted the spell on you wants you dead, or mad." Sirius said as he started wiping Harry's forehead. He looked at his wounds, a bleeding here and there, large bruises forming, and the likes. But what has everyone's attention are their continuous twitching.

"We need to get them to St. Mungo's. The curse is casted by rather dark wizards and witches, and to this extent." Tonks said. She signaled everyone to help two person up, with Sirius carrying Harry on his arms due to the teen not being able to walk.

Unbeknownst to all of them, while they were checking on the students, Moody was taking in the rest of what has happened. He saw the guns on the holsters, he remembered the Longbottom aiming and shooting a gun without hesitation. He knows what they did, and there is only one thing he could say about it.

"Constant vigilance, eh?" He said, his voice echoing in the place. The others looked at him questioningly, while the teens understood what he said. Their eyes darkened, their hands casually moving towards where their guns are stored in.

"These students have solved half of the problems in this war. I'm going to contact aurors and have the remaining alive Death Eaters here up for questioning." The man casted spells on the still alive wizards, stunning them, though he did take a long look at Malfoy Senior, satisfied at what he have seen.

"This is war, and it seems that nobody understood this with the exception of these children." He smirked, clapping Neville Longbottom in the shoulder.

"If you guys want to work for the ministry, just tell me. I need people like you. Negotiations have long been over," then the whole place shook quite violently, with the teens moving away from the adults that has been carrying them. They ran towards the place where the shaking may have originated from, but not before picking up their wands from still bleeding Death Eaters and cold corpses.

Unflinching, unafraid, though not completely unaffected. He watched as they stumbled a bit, especially Harry Potter who needs to be supported by his two mates.

"Everyone after them!" Kingsley shouted, though they were slowed down by another bout of violent shaking. Moody was left behind to watch the remaining wizards here and as he surveyed the carnage before him yet again, he only has one thought in his head; these kids would either be seen as cold-blooded killers or heroes by the end of the day. But at the end of it all, he would be making sure to reward the children for what they did.

"War is inevitable. Especially, with adults like Dumbledore." If the children are trying to do something, then he would be an adult that would support them.

[tnott]

[ 18 June 1996 || Open ]

open to Snapes

Theo had a steady Monday morning routine – wake at seven, go for a jog around the lake, shower, eat breakfast, and go to Potions class. When she’d gone to sleep on Sunday night, she’d expected the next day to follow the same familiar pattern.

How very wrong she was.

It started at dawn, when she was woken by a hand on her shoulder and someone softly calling her name. “What?” she mumbled, blearily blinking up at Jasmine Tanner, their Seventh Year prefect.

“Professor Snape wants to see you in his office,” Jasmine whispered.

“Huh?” Theo said, sitting up and pushing her hair back behind her ears. Why would Professor Snape want to talk to her this early in the morning? She couldn’t think of a reason, unless she was in big trouble. But she hadn’t done anything lately, so why…?

“What’s going on?” she asked as she began to dress, pulling on her socks and trading her nightgown for a shirt and a pair of pants.

“I have no idea,” Jasmine said. “He just told me to wake you up and bring you there.”

Both girls ducked as a pillow came flying from Millie’s bed, accompanied by a muffled, “Shut up.”

Theo rolled her eyes, but laced up her shoes in silence and quickly followed Jasmine out of the dormitory, still wondering what in Merlin’s name this was all about. With each step, her stomach seemed to twist itself a little tighter until, standing in front of Professor Snape’s office door, she felt like she’d swallowed a knot. Whatever he had to say, she doubted it would be good.

Theo opened the door and edged inside. “Sir?” she asked.

Merlin, he looked like hell – face drawn, greyish bags beneath his eyes, a hint of stubble on his face. Her sense of foreboding turned to a frisson of fear. Whatever this was about, it was bad – bad enough that Professor Snape hadn’t bothered to make himself presentable, bad enough that she’d been summoned at the crack of dawn.

(Before the morning paper, a small, treacherous part of her mind whispered.)

Something had happened to her father. It was the only explanation that made any sense. So she waited, her breath caught in her chest and her fingers tugging nervously at her sleeve. She waited for him to speak.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The majority of censorship is self-censorship

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA (Saturday night, with Adam Conover), Seattle (Monday, with Neal Stephenson), then Portland, Phoenix and more!

I know a lot of polymaths, but Ada Palmer takes the cake: brilliant science fiction writer, brilliant historian, brilliant librettist, brilliant singer, and then some:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/10/monopoly-begets-monopoly/#terra-ignota

Palmer is a friend and a colleague. In 2018, she, Adrian Johns and I collaborated on "Censorship, Information Control, & Information Revolutions from Printing Press to Internet," a series of grad seminars at the U Chicago History department (where Ada is a tenured prof, specializing in the Inquisition and Renaissance forbidden knowledge):

https://ifk.uchicago.edu/research/faculty-fellow-projects/censorship-information-control-information-revolutions-from-printing-press/

The project had its origins in a party game that Ada and I used to play at SF conventions: Ada would describe a way that the Inquisitions' censors attacked the printing press, and I'd find an extremely parallel maneuver from governments, the entertainment industry or other entities from the much more recent history of internet censorship battles.

With the seminars, we took it to the next level. Each 3h long session featured a roster of speakers from many disciplines, explaining everything from how encryption works to how white nationalists who were radicalized in Vietnam formed an armored-car robbery gang to finance modems and Apple ][+s to link up neo-Nazis across the USA.

We borrowed the structure of these sessions from science fiction conventions, home to a very specific kind of panel that doesn't always work, but when it does, it's fantastic. It was a natural choice: after all, Ada and I know each other through science fiction.

Even if you're not an sf person, you've probably heard of the Hugo Awards, the most prestigious awards in the field, voted on each year by attendees of the annual World Science Fiction Convention (Worldcon). And even if you're not an sf fan, you might have heard about a scandal involving the Hugo Awards, which were held last year in China, a first:

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/science-fiction-authors-excluded-hugo-awards-china-rcna139134

A little background: each year's Worldcon is run by a committee of volunteers. These volunteers put together bids to host the Worldcon, and canvass Worldcon attendees to vote in favor of their bid. For many years, a group of Chinese fans attempted to field a successful bid to host a Worldcon, and, eventually, they won.

At the time, there were many concerns: about traveling to a country with a poor human rights record and a reputation for censorship, and about the logistics of customary Worldcon attendees getting visas. During this debate, many international fans pointed to the poor human rights record in the USA (which has hosted the vast majority of Worldcons since their inception), and the absolute ghastly rigmarole the US government subjects many foreign visitors to when they seek visas to come to the US for conventions.

Whatever side of this debate you came down on, it couldn't be denied that the Chinese Worldcon rang a lot of alarm-bells. Communications were spotty, and then the con was unceremoniously rescheduled for months after the original scheduled date, without any good explanation. Rumors swirled of Chinese petty officials muscling their way into the con's administration.

But the real alarm bells started clanging after the Hugo Award ceremony. Normally, after the Hugos are given out, attendees are given paper handouts tallying the nominations and votes, and those numbers are also simultaneously published online. Technically, the Hugo committee has a grace period of some weeks before this data must be published, but at every Worldcon I've attended over the past 30+ years, I left the Hugos with a data-sheet in my hand.

Then, in early December, at the very last moment, the Hugo committee released its data – and all hell broke loose. Numerous, acclaimed works had been unilaterally "disqualified" from the ballot. Many of these were written by writers from the Chinese diaspora, but some works – like an episode of Neil Gaiman's Sandman – were seemingly unconnected to any national considerations.

Readers and writers erupted in outrage, demanding to know what had happened. The Hugo administrators – Americans and Canadians who'd volunteered in those roles for many years and were widely viewed as being members in good standing of the community – were either silent or responded with rude and insulting remarks. One thing they didn't do was explain themselves.

The absence of facts left a void that rumors and speculation rushed in to fill. Stories of Chinese official censorship swirled online, and along with them, a kind of I-told-you-so: China should never have been home to a Worldcon, the country's authoritarian national politics are fundamentally incompatible with a literary festival.

As the outrage mounted and the scandal breached from the confines of science fiction fans and writers to the wider world, more details kept emerging. A damning set of internal leaks revealed that it was those long-serving American and Canadian volunteers who decided to censor the ballot. They did so out of a vague sense that the Chinese state would visit some unspecified sanction on the con if politically unpalatable works appeared on the Hugo ballot. Incredibly, they even compiled clumsy dossiers on nominees, disqualifying one nominee out of a mistaken belief that he had once visited Tibet (it was actually Nepal).

There's no evidence that the Chinese state asked these people to do this. Likewise, it wasn't pressure from the Chinese state that caused them to throw out hundreds of ballots cast by Chinese fans, whom they believed were voting for a "slate" of works (it's not clear if this is the case, but slate voting is permitted under Hugo rules).

All this has raised many questions about the future of the Hugo Awards, and the status of the awards that were given in China. There's widespread concern that Chinese fans involved with the con may face state retaliation due to the negative press that these shenanigans stirred up.

But there's also a lot of questions about censorship, and the nature of both state and private censorship, and the relationship between the two. These are questions that Ada is extremely well-poised to answer; indeed, they're the subject of her book-in-progress, entitled Why We Censor: from the Inquisition to the Internet.

In a magisterial essay for Reactor, Palmer stakes out her central thesis: "The majority of censorship is self-censorship, but the majority of self-censorship is intentionally cultivated by an outside power":

https://reactormag.com/tools-for-thinking-about-censorship/

States – even very powerful states – that wish to censor lack the resources to accomplish totalizing censorship of the sort depicted in Nineteen Eighty-Four. They can't go from house to house, searching every nook and cranny for copies of forbidden literature. The only way to kill an idea is to stop people from expressing it in the first place. Convincing people to censor themselves is, "dollar for dollar and man-hour for man-hour, much cheaper and more impactful than anything else a censorious regime can do."

Ada invokes examples modern and ancient, including from her own area of specialty, the Inquisition and its treatment of Gailileo. The Inquistions didn't set out to silence Galileo. If that had been its objective, it could have just assassinated him. This was cheap, easy and reliable! Instead, the Inquisition persecuted Galileo, in a very high-profile manner, making him and his ideas far more famous.

But this isn't some early example of Inquisitorial Streisand Effect. The point of persecuting Galileo was to convince Descartes to self-censor, which he did. He took his manuscript back from the publisher and cut the sections the Inquisition was likely to find offensive. It wasn't just Descartes: "thousands of other major thinkers of the time wrote differently, spoke differently, chose different projects, and passed different ideas on to the next century because they self-censored after the Galileo trial."

This is direct self-censorship, where people are frightened into silencing themselves. But there's another form of censorship, which Ada calls "middlemen censorship." That's when someone other than the government censors a work because they fear what the government would do if they didn't. Think of Scholastic's cowardly decision to pull inclusive, LGBTQ books out of its book fair selections even though no one had ordered them to do so:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/05/06/books/scholastic-book-racism-maggie-tokuda-hall.html

This is a form of censorship outsourcing, and it "multiplies the manpower of a censorship system by the number of individuals within its power." The censoring body doesn't need to hire people to search everyone's houses for offensive books – it can frighten editors, publishers, distributors, booksellers and librarians into suppressing the books in the first place.

This outsourcing blurs the line between state and private surveillance. Think about comics. After a series of high-profile Congressional hearings about the supposed danger of comics to impressionable young minds, the comics industry undertook a regime of self-censorship, through which the private Comics Code Authority would vet comings for "dangerous" content before allowing its seal of approval to appear on the comics' covers. Distributors and retailers refused to carry books without a CCA stamp, so publishers refused to publish books unless they could get a CCA stamp.

The CCA was unaccountable, capricious – and racist. By the 60s and 70s, it became clear that comic about Black characters were subjected to much tighter scrutiny than comics featuring white heroes. The CCA would reject "a drop of sweat on the forehead of a Black astronaut as 'too graphic' since it 'could be mistaken for blood.'" Every comic that got sent back by the CCA meant long, brutal reworkings by writers and illustrators to get them past the censors.

The US government never censored heroes like Black Panther, but the chain of events that created the CCA "middleman censors" made sure that Black Panther appeared in far fewer comics starring Marvel's most prominent Black character. An analysis of censorship that tries to draw a line between private and public censorship would say that the government played no role in Black Panther's banishment to obscurity – but without Congressional action, Black Panther would never have faced censorship.

This is why attempts to cleanly divide public and private censorship always break down. Many people will tell you that when Twitter or Facebook blocks content they disagree with, that's not censorship, since censorship is government action, and these are private actors. What they mean is that Twitter and Facebook censorship doesn't violate the First Amendment, but it's perfectly possible to infringe on free speech without violating the US Constitution. What's more, if the government fails to prevent monopolization of our speech forums – like social media – and also declines to offer its own public speech forums that are bound to respect the First Amendment, we can end up with government choices that produce an environment in which some ideas are suppressed wherever they might find an audience – all without violating the Constitution:

https://locusmag.com/2020/01/cory-doctorow-inaction-is-a-form-of-action/

The great censorious regimes of the past – the USSR, the Inquisition – left behind vast troves of bureaucratic records, and these records are full of complaints about the censors' lack of resources. They didn't have the manpower, the office space, the money or the power to erase the ideas they were ordered to suppress. As Ada notes, "In the period that Spain’s Inquisition was wildly out of Rome’s control, the Roman Inquisition even printed manuals to guide its Inquisitors on how to bluff their way through pretending they were on top of what Spain was doing!"

Censors have always done – and still do – their work not by wielding power, but by projecting it. Even the most powerful state actors are not powerful enough to truly censor, in the sense of confiscating every work expressing an idea and punishing everyone who creates such a work. Instead, when they rely on self-censorship, both by individuals and by intermediaries. When censors act to block one work and not another, or when they punish one transgressor while another is free to speak, it's tempting to think that they are following some arcane ruleset that defines when enforcement is strict and when it's weak. But the truth is, they censor erratically because they are too weak to censor comprehensively.

Spectacular acts of censorship and punishment are a performance, "to change the way people act and think." Censors "seek out actions that can cause the maximum number of people to notice and feel their presence, with a minimum of expense and manpower."

The censor can only succeed by convincing us to do their work for them. That's why drawing a line between state censorship and private censorship is such a misleading exercise. Censorship is, and always has been, a public-private partnership.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/22/self-censorship/#hugos

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter fourteen

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): slightly suggestive, canonical violence, heavy mentions of blood/injuries, angst with some fluff at the end

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Hermione Granger was coined the smartest witch of her age for many reasons. Although brave and courageous at heart, she was wise and ambitious to the very marrow of her bones. It's how she noticed your changing affections for Mattheo Riddle, perhaps even before you did.

It started no earlier than October, when you no longer complained about your desk partner in Ancient Runes; when you'd meet up with her after the tutor sessions with bright eyes and a genuine smile, which she had not seen since the weeks leading up to the Department of Mysteries battle last summer. She knew what Riddle was like, but seeing the spark reignite in your soul began to change her perspective of him. Maybe he was inherently good after all.

When Harry told her and Ron what he had discovered about the two of you, she wasn't even a little surprised, but she was surprised that Ginny, too, was not in the least bit affected by the revelation. She watched in forlorn silence as Harry singlehandedly cut you off from them, despite everything you had done for him; everything you'd sacrificed. She had spent many nights berating him in the common room with tears in her eyes.

You were her very first friend at Hogwarts. You'd met on platform nine and three quarters in your first year and exclaimed that you absolutely adored the celebrity on the cover of the magazine she happened to be browsing through. Hermione had thought you were a muggleborn like her and was disappointed when you said you weren't. But she was elated to hear that your mother was just like her. You spent the entire trainride chatting about muggle affairs and your favourite books, and had both gotten up to help Neville find his toad which is how you met Ron and Harry.

You were the person she turned to when Ron first took to being a horrid nuisance to her. You were the person she went to for help finding out about Nicholas Flemmel and the Philosopher's stone. You were the person who wrote double the amount of notes in second year, while she was petrified, just so that she could have knowledge of all the things she'd missed out on in her absence. You were the one to subject yourself to Bellatrix Lestrange's cruciatus curse so that someone could help Harry fight of half a dozen Death Eaters by the arch in the strange room in the Department of Mysteries.

You were her sister and her best friend.

And she felt completely undeserving of all those years of sisterhood as she watched you traipse around the castle like a ghost for days, after the argument with Ron transpired outside the Hospital Wing.

She had slapped him so hard when they'd gotten far enough away from the sounds of your heart wrenching sobs. The sound had echoed so loudly through each of their ears, and she did not care about how Ginny had gasped in shock horror at her action. Or the way Harry flinched as Ron cradled his reddening cheek. It was well and truly deserved.

She did not speak to Harry or Ron for two weeks. Now she only offered vague, one-worded answers to their incessant questions. They acted as if they had done nothing wrong. It infuriated her.

Hermione wanted to find you and apologise profusely. As did Ginny. But each time they got the nerve to find you, you were surrounded by a guard of snakes. The Slytherin boys were extremely protective of you and it seemed that Mattheo no longer cared for secrecy; openly showing that you were his for all the world to see, though subtly enough that only those with keen eyes saw. Hermione saw.

You looked happier with them than you had ever been with any of your old friends. Hermione often wondered if you were meant to find them; wondered if she, Ron and Harry had been holding you back from your true potential.

She admired you. She loved you. She had to make this right.

She cornered you after an Ancient Runes lesson. A ballsy move, considering Mattheo, Theo and Pansy formed a protective wall of imposing doom behind you, like fallen angels promising retribution. She steeled her gaze, looked between all three of them, shot the true intentions of why she was doing this to their minds – she knew they were digging through her thoughts by the pin pricks in the back of her head. But not from you, never from you, although she would never hate you if you did.

"What do you want, Granger?" It's Pansy who speaks up first, her voice dark and promising unspeakable terror, if Hermione so much as said one thing out of line. She watches as you reach for the hand that softly brushes against your own and grip it with all your might; Mattheo's hand.

"I wanted to speak to you." she says directly to you. "Alone, if possible."

She can see the way Mattheo is about to rebute this.

"If not that's completely fine." its rushed and laced with desperation and you can see the emotions clouding your ex-best friend's face. The guilt and the longing. You want to hear her out.

You squeeze Mattheo's hand once before letting go and speaking to them all, without opening your mouth.

I want to hear what she has to say. You guys go ahead, I'll find you later.

Pansy's look of uncertainty is remedied by your insistence that you'd be fine, and Theo is a little reluctant but follows behind her. Mattheo is a silent and imposing statue of simmering rage at your side. And by the uncomfortable look on Hermione's face, you know he's in her head.

If she comes back crying, believe me when I say that you will regret it Granger. And if this is a farce to satisfy Potter's cruelty, he will pay for it too.

"Harry doesn't know I'm here. Neither does Ron. Ginny should be outside, she wants to talk too. I-if that's alright?"

"It's fine." your voice is softer than she's ever heard. Like you're wholly unsure if you can trust her word. It's a foreign and devastating feeling. And she hates it.

Mattheo's hand brushes your's before he reaches up and squeezes your waist affectionately, departing after Theo and Pansy moments later.

The classroom is blissfully empty. Now it's just you and Hermione, alone. The silence is tense and awkward as you each wait for Ginny to walk through the door.

She arrives moments after Mattheo's departure, steps slow and hesitant. But as she sees the two of you she releases a heavy sigh of relief and launches herself at you.

She's hugging you so tightly. Squeezing and squeezing until your arms, which are limp at your sides, instinctively wrap around her frame. She's mumbling apologies into the neck of your blue and bronze lined robe, body racking with subtle sobs, that you mirror as you melt into her embrace. Hermione joins you both after a moment and the three of you sink to the floor, twin tears streaking down your faces, apologies and words of love and hope echoing off the walls of the classroom.

Eventually the hug ends and the three of you are sat in a small circle between the desks, voices low and quiet as you listen to what the other has to say, all the while, Mattheo is a welcome presence in your mind, offering infinite reassurances as your heart races in your chest.

Hermione tells you how Harry and Ron seem like totally different people now. How she slapped Ron and did not utter a singular word to Harry until he apologised to her.

"Look I'm sorry, alright." he said one evening in the common room as she was researching for an upcoming essay. "Please talk to me, Mione."

"I'm not the one you should be apologising to." she mutters, not taking her eye off the words on the page. Harry scoffs as he sits down. "If you're going to bad mouth my best friend then go and find Ron. I don't want to hear what you have to say."

He rolls his eyes before he stands up and walks away.

Ginny feels terrible. She hadn't known it was you and Mattheo in the corridor until she heard his distinct low and raspy voice, too late. She wasn't quick enough in deterring Harry away from the space and she regrets it immensely. And the look on your face after Ron had shouted at you plays repetitively on her mind at all hours of the day.

Guilt errodes at your souls and all three of you feel the weight of it like you're being held beneath the surface of a very deep lake.

When the two of them finish explaining themselves, you inhale harshly before letting out a calming breathe.

"I can't say that your actions didn't hurt. Because then I'd be lying." you say, voice clouded in emotion. "I have been outcasted by everyone I thought I could call a friend. Even my own housemates don't speak to me. You didn't do anything to stop that, which really hurts."

There's a lump in your throat that continues to strain with every word you utter, eyes burn with the onslaught of more salty tears.

"I know that you don't trust them. And you have every reason not to. I understand that. But they have been here for me, when the two of you weren't. They've shown me what it means to be surrounded by kindness and safety and I love them all equally, no matter what has been said and done in the past. Yes they work for you-know-who. But they had no choice. You know who their families are, hell we fought most of them in June. They've been forced into this and I just want to get them out."

Ginny reaches over to squeeze your hand. You let her.

"I-" she pauses and looks at Hermione, who reaches over for your other hand. "We want to help you. In any way we can. We'll help you appeal to Dumbledore-"

"He already refused my plea for help." you say with a grimace.

Hermione gapes. "B-but he always says that-"

"-Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask." you say at the same time as she does. "Yes he said as much, and then followed with saying that they don't deserve to be helped."

"That's completely unfair." Ginny mutters. "If you were asking for anyone else he'd help in a heartbeat."

Hermione mumbles her agreement, face painted in complete disbelief at your revelation. She always believed that Dumbledore was a good and just man, but maybe she was wrong.

"We'll appeal to the Order." Ginny says. "Tonks' mum was in you-know-who's clutches when she went to the Order for help. And now she's effectively protected for life."

It's a good idea. It may work. But you have your doubts. The current members of the Order held their own prejudices, much like Voldemort's Death Eaters did.

"Tell your friends about the idea. Tell them that we'll try." Hermione says earnestly. "Nothing will ever justify our behaviour towards you, but let us make it right. Please. It's the least we can do for how badly we treated you."

What are they saying right now? Mattheo asks you, voice painted with curiousity.

They're going to help me keep you all safe.

And how, pray tell, will they achieve that? Mattheo sounds like he adamantly does not believe your words.

They have a way but I'm honestly not getting my hopes up until its more of a solid plan.

Okay, I trust you. How do you feel, love? His voice is a soft caress to all the corners of your mind. It's like he can feel the anxiety rolling off of you in waves.

I've got mixed feelings. I want to believe that they truely do mean what they're saying, but actions speak louder than words.

Even though you say that, Mattheo already knows that you'll forgive them. He may not agree with it because, in his opinion, they do not deserve your forgiveness, but he understands that you'd been akin to sisters for years before his family welcomed you into their circle with open arms. Of course you'd forgive them eventually; it doesn't mean that any of your found family would, though.

Hermione and Ginny watch as your eyes glaze over. It's obvious that you're talking mind to mind with Mattheo by the way your face heats with a blush and your face is alight with a soft, yet dazzling smile.

The three of you had once gossiped, in the cosy confines of the younger girl's bedroom, that Ginny's oldest twin brother was the perfect guy for you, but judging by your expression, they knew it then and there......Mattheo Riddle was your soulmate and you were completely and irrevocably in love with him.

An hour later, the three of you were sat under the shade of a willow tree that overlooked one of the beaches separating the Black Lake from the main courtyard.

It was as if there was never a blip in your friendship. Like old times. It felt normal. But there was an underlying feeling that everything was different at the same time. And the three of you had wordlessly accepted that fact.

"He needs to get rid of that stupid book." Hermione mutters dismally as you watch Harry and Ron stroll by, not sparing any of you a glance as they stare down at the battered Potions book in the former's hand.

"Still jealous that he's gotten better at potions than you? You're not top of the class anymore." You tease and she throws you a playful glare.

"Nevermind that. It's insidious." she says. "Just the other day he was asking if I'd heard of some kind of spell that was, quote on quote: 'for enemies'. It's completely ridiculous."

"I can't say that I disagree with you Mione." Ginny says grimly. "I overheard him telling Ron that he really wanted to test it out."

She shivers as if a blanket of cold was just thrust upon her. You're left bewildered. Harry seemed like a wholly different person and you didn't know what to make of it.

~∞~

A week later, you'd come to terms with the new state of your friendship with Hermione and Ginny; your Slytherin friends were weary at first when you told them of their plan to involve the Order, but it was Theo and Blaise who agreed tentatively to hear them out.

You tried to build a bridge between your two opposing groups, and it worked somewhat: Hermione had bonded well with Theo and Ginny found a kinship in Pansy's fierce spirit as well as Enzo's witty humour. Even Luna, who had accompanied Ginny one day to see you, had found solace in Blaise's quiet and calm nature.

Draco was the most alert by your insistence of them all speaking – he was weary that Hermione did not like nor trust him and she was uneasy around the boy who had called her unsavoury names for years. But even Hermione could see how worn down and tired Draco looked, and cut him some slack.

After another drooling day of school, you were lying in Mattheo's bed, clad in nothing but one of his dark tshirts as you lied against his chest, breathing in his alluring scent of cedar, musk and smoke. After completing your homework together, the two of you had nothing better to do than laze about, sharing languid kisses and slow, soft sex.

You were talking quietly to one another, sweet giggles and deep chuckles passing between you as you bathed in the serenity of each others' presence. Mattheo's hand was tracing circles against the back of your thighs, causing you to shift away with a breathy laugh.

"That tickles. Stop it." you say, mirth shining in your eyes as you playfully glare at him as his fingers dance across your soft, sensitive skin.

"Or what?" he challenges with a smirk that has you sitting up against his stomach, the ridges of his abs brushing sensually against your aching core.

Safe to say, your clothes ended up on the floor once more and the room was once again filled with your combined sensual moans and whines.

Later, you're cuddled against him again, tired and spent as you allow sleep to overtake you. But it never comes. Enzo and Ginny burst through the door in a panicked flurry.

"Ever heard of knocking, Berkshire?" Mattheo snaps, but at the look of alarm painting his friend's face, he sits up in rapt attention.

"What is it, Enzo?" he asks, using one hand to pull the duvet over your bodies to shield you from their averting gazes.

"It's Harry and- and Malfoy." Ginny says, breathlessly as if they'd run here. "They're dueling in one of the second floor bathrooms."

That statement has the two of you scrambling for your clothes as Enzo and Ginny leave to wait outside the door.

Uniforms shoved back on in a hurry, rumpled and creased from your earlier activities, the two of you follow behind the panicking pair as they lead you to Moaning Myrtle's floor. You hear the duel before you see it. Draco and Harry are throwing insults and curses back and forth in rapid fire blows. You would be mesmerised by the feeling of all the power that sings to you, if you weren't so worried and horror stricken at what you'd stumbled into.

Upon entering the scene you can't help but gape at the destruction. The porcelain sinks lining the marbled walls are cracked and broken, crumbling to the floor; pipes bursting with a never ending onslaught of spraying water that washes across the floor like tempered glass.

Your arrival distracts Draco momentarily as he turns towards the four of you, weariness clouding his light grey eyes. It's all the time he needs for Harry to surprise all of you with his menacing words as he casts the final spell, signifying the end of the harrowing duel.

"Sectum-sempra!" he shouts and Draco releases a pained yelp before falling to the floor as Ginny gasps in horror. Blood soaks the water around him, spreading out like slick oil against it as he writhes in pain. Slashes of blood saturate his white shirt, as if a knife had been hacked against his skin.

The room is a flurry of activity as Ginny starts shouting at Harry as Enzo and Mattheo pull out their wands defensively. But you pay them no mind, immediately going to Draco's side, trying your best to comfort him as you rip open his shirt to see the damage that Harry had caused.

His torso is caked in blood, gashes of skin torn open by the force of the spell. He's lying in a pool of it, the volume increasing with each passing second. Draco was dying. Slowly and painfully.

Moaning Myrtle appeared from the pipes screaming "MURDER IN THE BATHROOM!" repeatedly as you worked tirelessly, which was not helping the onslaught of overwhelming emotions that were bubbling to the surface.

It's okay. You're okay. You need to stay awake Draco. Please stay awake. You reassure him as you mumble a series of spells. He begins writhing more.

Episkey doesn't work.

Ferula fails to expell bandages large enough to cover the gaping holes in his chest.

Basic wound sealing spells are cast in vain.

You have tried everything you can think of. But nothing is working. Tears of frustration begin to slide down your cheeks.

"What's taking you so long?" Enzo shouts at you, drawing your attention away from Draco. Your breathing is panicked and uncertain and Mattheo tilts his head towards Enzo, a silent threat to watch his tone as he sees the slick flow of tears running down your face.

"I don't- nothing is working." you say breathelessly. "I don't know what to do."

Ginny looks horrified. As do Mattheo and Enzo. Harry only looks intrigued, no trace of guilt paints his face. You narrow your eyes at him.

"It's from that book, isn't it?" you accuse and he flinches at your icy tone. "The Half Blood Prince wouldn't be stupid enough to not know a counter curse. What. Is. It?"

He doesn't answer you fast enough for Mattheo's liking. Despite not understanding what you're talking about, he turns to the bespectacled boy with barely contained rage as he points his wand in the direction of the 'Chosen One'.

"Answer her, Potter!" he snarls and Harry snaps his head in Mattheo's direction, shooting him a glare until Ginny screams at him to answer you.

"Vulnera Sanentur." he says reluctantly, as if he was waiting to see how long the effects of the spell he cast would take place. As if he was waiting for Death to sink it's claws into Draco's soul.

Immediately you work on each of the gashes on Draco's torso and they begin to heal over for the most part, but he's still loosing too much blood.

"Someone needs to help me seal his wounds properly. I can't do it by myself." you say desperately and Enzo is immediately at your side, both of you mumbling the spell and casting your wands over the various wounds that litter Draco's pallid skin. Meanwhile Mattheo and Ginny stare at Harry as if he'd grown two heads, sharing a knowing look of understanding that Harry does not miss, nor does he like. He grits his teeth at his enemy and the girl he's infatuated by as Ginny, not so subtly, inches closer to Mattheo's side. Mattheo's eyes soften at the fear coating the younger girl's cerulean eyes.

No sooner than you'd entered the fray, Professor Snape comes gliding into the room, face livid, and pushes you and Enzo away from Draco's still writhing body. He performs the healing charm with practiced ease, going over each jagged cut, that you failed to heal, with graceful precision. If you weren't so overcome with emotion, you would've put the glaringly obvious pieces together.

The flow of blood eased rapidly and the wounds knotted together intricately as he repeated the spell, tenderly wiping away the blood that coated Draco's face. You knelt close to his side, reaching out to stroke his limp hand, which was alarmingly cold to the touch. You and Enzo were both covered in a mixture of blood and water which soaked through your uniforms, sticking to you like a second skin.

No sooner than he'd arrived, Professor Snape had Draco leaning against your side and was talking softly to the boy, who was barely conscious.

"You must go to the Hospital Wing. There may be some scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that. Come...."

With Enzo's help, he supported Draco across the bathroom, turning at the door to say in a voice of cold fury, "And you, Potter – You will wait here for me."

Harry, at least, had the gall to look ashamed.

You're still kneeling on the floor, staring at your blood soaked hands when Mattheo appears in front of you, taking your hands in his, paying no mind to the blood soaking through his trousers.

"You did good, darling." he says softly, so only you can hear, neither pay attention to how Ginny inches closer to you two, away from Harry's wide eyes. "So good."

"If Snape didn't turn up–" you don't want to finish the sentence, don't even want to think about what could've happened.

"If he didn't end up coming, you and Enzo would have worked tirelessly to seal Draco's wounds to the best of your abilities." he reassures you, having read the emotions as clear as day on your face. "Come on, let's go and get you cleaned up, yeah?"

You allow him to pull you to your feet and you're only reminded of his presence when Harry scoffs.

"Got something to say, Potter?" he snarls as his hand rests against the small of your back, at Harry who glares at Mattheo obstinately.

"He cursed Katie Bell. We all know it. He deserved what he had coming for him. I can't believe she willingly helped him after everything he's done to us. After everything you have done."

He spoke as if you were not standing right in front of him. You barely recognise the boy who you called your best friend for nearly six years. Harry had barely finished his sentence when Mattheo had left your side and launched at him, throwing punches and blows in Harry's face. That's not to say that Harry did not return the favour. Both boys' blood mingled with the softening pink whorls in the water. You and Ginny were screaming at them to stop; they did not acknowledge your pleas. The last time they fought like this was over a year ago.

The conduit around your neck crackles with energy and you fight the urge to break it. Instead you wrap a fist around it almost instinctively and draw out power that surges through the room, separating the two from eachother with little to no effort. They're both panting and glaring at eachother as they fight against the restraint of your power.

"That's enough." you say firmly, voice loud and commanding in the silence, wholly different to its usual cadence. Ginny is staring at you in awe, as Mattheo stares with pride. Harry looks at you with uncontainable fury and fear.

Because you're glowing.

There's a faint indigo aura surrounding your body that pulses with energy as you hold the two boys away from eachother. When Mattheo stops fighting you, you let go of the hold and watch as they slump in their spots on opposite sides of the room, both sporting matching wounds of split lips and bruised eyes.

"What the fuck are you?" Harry mumbles to himself, just as Snape returns to the bathroom. The professor looks at you in barely restrained approval before instructing you, Mattheo and Ginny out of the room. You each go without hesitation, leaving Harry at the mercy of a furious Snape.

~∞~

Parting ways with Ginny at the intersection between your two common rooms, Mattheo lets you guide him towards the Ravenclaw tower, which was closer to the dungeons that were on the opposite side of the castle to where you currently were.

He follows you silently, staring at you as if he can still see the faint glow of the indigo aura that surrounded you. He didn't think you could get any more ethereal. You prove him wrong every single day.

"Do you think Draco will be okay?" you ask quietly as you reach the polished bronze Knocker that conceals the entrance to your estranged common room.

"He's strong. I know he'll be okay." Mattheo reassures you, but he chooses not to tell you that Draco's fate will be far worse if he fails to fix the wardrobe that they'd been working on for the better part of half a year. All their fates would be far worse.

You breath out a relieved sigh in response, just in time for the Eagle to blink preternaturally at the two of you. You laugh softly as Mattheo shivers at the utter human-ness of the brass eagle.

'I can break. I can be clogged. I can be attacked. I can be given. I can be kept. I can be crushed, yet I can be whole at the same time. What am I?'

It only takes you a moment to figure out the riddle and Mattheo sees the exact second that the answer fills your head, even as his stays blank with confusion.

"A heart." You say and he swears that the eagle winks as the door swings open, paving way for the sea of eyes that stare at the two of you in horror.

You realise then that your still covered, practically head to toe, in Draco's blood, skirt and knee high white socks soaked through from the water, stained a light pink. Shaking yourself out of your haze, you grip Mattheo's hand and drag him towards the staircase leading to the girls' dormitories, ignoring the eyes that are burning holes into your skin as you retreat.

You wandlessly unlock the door that leads into your dorm room and watch as Mattheo stares around in awe.

"I've never been in here before." he says quietly and you turn to him with furrowed brows.

"Yes you have. Haven't you?"

It dawns on you then, that in all the months you'd known him, you had never consciously invited him into your bedroom. It had always been his common room; his dormitory or the Room of Requirement. Never your's.

"No. I haven't." he responds, laughing at the surprise that appears on your face as he casts his surveying eyes around your room. "It's very you."

"Thankyou?" you respond questioningly which causes him to laugh more, then wince as the movement of his laughter tugs at the cut that splits his lip.

Eyes full of concern you direct him to your bed and push him down by his broad shoulders to sit, ignoring the way his brows wiggle suggestively while you find a first aid kit to remedy his injuries.

He's still smirking when you return from the bathroom, green box in hand, which you place by his side as he guides you to stand between his parted thighs. The two of you bask in the content silence as you use a damp flannel to wipe away the dried blood that has begun to crust over his soft skin, mumbled apologies escaping your lips whenever he hisses if you accidentally catch one of his cuts with the fabric.

"You could easily wish these away with a bit of magic, you know. It's a thousand times faster." he says, hands caressing the backs of yours thighs as he looks up at you, but he makes no move to stop you or push you away.

"That feels uncaring." you mumble in response as you use a bit of rubbing alcohol against the cut on his lip. "Sorry." you say as he winces.

"It's alright, love." he mumbles, leaning his head into your stomach once you finished. "Potter can really throw a punch."

Your laughter comes out as a scoff. "Maybe. But you should've seen the state you left him in."

He smirks against the damp fabric of your shirt and you swat at his curly head when you practically feel his ego inflating.

"I did give him a good beating, didn't I?"

"You're so vexingly arrogant." you say with a soft laugh that has him leaning out of your stomach to stare at you again, a mischievous glint reflecting in his honey brown eyes.

"It's one of the many attributes of mine that you fell for though, isn't it Princess." he says with so much self assurance that you just have to roll your eyes, but it's difficult to hide your smile.

"Shut up." you reply as his arms reach up to wrap around your middle, bringing you into his embrace, but he cringes away at the feel of your still wet clothes.

"Let's get you out of these yeah? You're practically shivering." he says as he untucks your shirt from your skirt, affection and...and love overtaking his soft eyes as he stares up at you, quietly stripping you of your ruined clothes that he throws into a pile at the foot of your bed.

~∞~

"Thank you, Théo." you say quietly, almost in a whisper, after you're both fresh and clean from a shower, all wounds healed over with a bit of his magic.

"What for?" he asks you, just as softly, hand reaching up to brush a loose wisp of hair that had fallen into your face.

You don't answer him, not verbally at least, instead pressing a slow kiss to his mouth that he happily reciprocates, leaning in until he's hovering over you, trapping your body below his.

For protecting me. For defending me. For giving Ginny stability, despite how you feel towards her. I saw the way she gravitated towards you. Just...thank you. Your words have his mouth working harder against your's, causing a moan to escape you as his tongue licks against the seam of your lips, which part eagerly for him.

Always, sweet girl. I will always defend you and those of your friends who are worthy of defending. He replies before detaching his lips from your's, with retraint.

"Weasley could have easily let Enzo find us himself, could've even encouraged Potter to continue their duel. But she didn't; she watched a boy almost die, watched her friend heal the same boy who terrorised you all for years. She could've easily gone to Harry's defence, but she didn't. She looked to us for direction. Not him. That says a lot." he said aloud with a sigh, strands of his curly hair falling over his forehead, causing his eyes to twitch in irritation.

You used the tips of your fingers to coil the stubborn curls away from his face as he speaks, a new sense of admiration, trust and calm washing over you as you stare at your lover.

"It may take time for me to trust her, Granger too," he continues. "But I see how much she looks up to you, trusts you and vice versa. I can learn to forgive them for their wrongdoings. For you, my love."

"Thank you, Théo." you repeat as you bury your face into his shirtless chest, breathing in his intoxicating scent.

He smiles as he presses a kiss to your temple, unaware that today's events would spiral into something unfathomable that Mattheo Riddle should've seen coming from miles away.

~∞~

did i mention how much i love soft!matty😫😫 (in every chapter since they got together 😵‍💫😵‍💫)

i had to end it with some fluff because i'm sure you can guess what's gonna happen in the next few chapters lol

also thought id let you know that meadow's siphon powers are now fully manifested, she just has to learn how to control it (which we see briefly in this chapter)

taglist:

(striked out users are ones that i couldn't tag)

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @sunasbbie @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @hiireadstuff @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23 @y0urm0m12 @sbrn0905 @leona-hawthorne @whatsupb18 @moni-cah @taylorann2013 @unstablereader @gisellesprettylies @nat1221

[sheeple]

Miracles don’t exist | Masterlist

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Riddle!Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): Shitty parenting in capitals / torture / murder / the whole shebang A/n: This is going to a pretty long story. It stretches from year four to after Hogwarts. So beware, there are going to be a lot of chapters!! [Masterlist] [Playlist] [Trailer]

Chapters Year 4: Chapter 1: The Quidditch World Cup finale | Chapter 2: Nice Slytherins | Chapter 3: Well-mannered friends | Chapter 4: The tri-wizard tournament | Chapter 5: The first task | Chapter 6: Christmas is in the air | Chapter 7: 12 Grimmauld Place | Chapter 8: Friends? Friends | Chapter 9: Something fishy | Chapter 10: The greatest nightmare

Chapters Year 5: Chapter 11: Home not so sweet home | Chapter 12: Innocent defiance | Chapter 13: An eventful summer | Chapter 14: A DE in the DA | Chapter 15: Like hot coals | Chapter 16: Mother knows best | Chapter 17: Exploding hippogriffs | Chapter 18: I'm on her side | Chapter 19: The Department of Mysteries | Chapter 20: Just like the lot of them

Chapters Year 6: Chapter 21: Bliss | Chapter 22: Protection | Chapter 23: The Greatest Gift | Chapter 24: Popcorn, sandalwood, and tulips | Chapter 25: Floating snails | Chapter 26: Heavy heart, truthful words | Chapter 27: Teddy | Chapter 28: Without you, my heart doesn't know peace | Chapter 29: Sectumsempra | Chapter 30: The Battle of the Astronomy Tower

Chapters Year 7: Chapter 31: Important tasks | Chapter 32: Love | Chapter 33: Heavy silks | Chapter 34: Stay and leave | Chapter 35: The cellar | Chapter 36: Extreme security measures | Chapter 37: Heartbroken and vengeful | Chapter 38: The day I lost you | Chapter 39: Till Death do us part | Chapter 40: As the world caves in

Epilogue

Extras: Nott v Harry

Edits: Le Monde | Harry x Reader

Taglist (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry  @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore​ @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @raineisms @mastermindmiko @timmytime17 @regsg18 @supernatural-lover @bubybubsters @lafrone @hermionelove @the-sander-fander @akengii @aliciacat20 @unstablereader @burns-in-the-sun @rachelnicolee @damagelove @mqndrqke @llpovi @clairesjointshurt @222244445555 @jolly4holly @padf00ts-l0ver @fandom-life-12 @prettyb1tchsblog @pari-1 @f14ever @nopedefe @randomgurl2326 @rinalouu @yazminetrahan @ellen3101 @comfyvic

[difeisheng]

A Jianghu Mystery of the Middle Xi: The Tomb of Li Xiangyi

By Qiling, University of □□ (2024)

Left: A photograph of the inscribed text at Li Xiangyi's tomb, reading, "The grave of the Sigu Sect's departed Sect Leader, Li Xiangyi". Right: Artist's sketch renditions from eye-level frontal and aerial side views, recreating how the tomb may have appeared during the Xi dynasty.

Among the numerous important archaeological finds from the Xi Dynasty, the tomb of Li Xiangyi is not the most well-known, nor has it yielded any artifacts of particular intrigue, yet it has raised questions about certain points in history since its discovery. The tomb constitutes a small site, near a mountainous overlook which should have received little common traffic at the time of construction. Its structure is in line with some other aristocratic burials of the Middle Xi period: aboveground, with a chamber at the center of a raised rectangular dais several meters wide, large enough to bear only a single individual. A stone marker, which has survived in legible condition until today, declares it the tomb of Li Xiangyi, leader of the Sigu jianghu sect.

Records about Li Xiangyi are found at other archaeological sites contemporary with this tomb, and so his name is not an obscure one. The Sigu Sect complex has already undergone excavation for nearly two decades, with evidence that Li Xiangyi spent several years there as its first sect leader and founder. His tomb is within two hours' walking distance of the Sigu site, though isolated in its location, compared to the Sigu Sect's grand mountain entrance. (The complex itself was inhabited well after his death; bamboo slips cite Qiao Wanmian as the Sigu Sect's next major leader some years after, who oversaw it for several more decades into the later Xi). In addition, the Baichuan-Pudu site, closer to the eastern coast and historically the headquarters for the Baichuan Court, is affiliated with Li Xiangyi. Its origins apparently lay in an offshoot of the Sigu Sect, which grew into its own independent legal organization after his death.

Legends surrounding Li Xiangyi's life have been well-documented, both at Sigu and Baichuan-Pudu, but also in books and transcriptions of oral stories at sites around the country. These are dated to both the Middle and Late Xi periods, as well as a few scattered mentions in writings from the following dynasty. As a jianghu sect leader and swordsman, Li Xiangyi's reputation truly preceded him. Some tales speak of his early accomplishments, ridding towns of villainous tyrants and defeating criminals. Others talk about the founding of the Sigu Sect when Li Xiangyi was seventeen, and his subsequent missions leading his fellow swordsmen to protect the borders of the country. Not all of these narratives can be verified with surviving historical proof, and given Li Xiangyi's status in the shifting canon of folklore, the percentage that are hyperbole or fiction is likely significant. However, one that should be true, and is the most frequently told story throughout these sources, is that of Li Xiangyi's death.

All texts place Li Xiangyi as having died relatively young, with some providing a specified age, generally around twenty. He perished in a duel with Di Feisheng, leader of the Jinyuan Alliance, a rival jianghu organization and presumed threat to the Sigu Sect. As the sources say, the Jinyuan Alliance killed Li Xiangyi's sect brother, Shan Gudao, and in retaliation he used the Sigu Sect to launch a war against the Jinyuan Alliance. His final battle was the last in this war, dying in the East Sea on Di Feisheng's ship. The Jinyuan Alliance in return was badly defeated by the Sigu Sect; excavations at its first compound in the last five years have shown evidence of siege, with fire having destroyed large parts of the buildings. Afterward, the Sigu Sect disbanded without Li Xiangyi, with only the Baichuan Court continuing to function, before being resurrected one decade later.

Given this knowledge we have about Li Xiangyi, the matter of his burial should be straightforward. He had a tremendous impact on the jianghu in the few short years that he stood at its peak. He died heroically, if tragically, to obtain justice for a brother. He was honoured with a tomb, standing guard over the sect he dedicated his youth to. Why, then, is said tomb regarded as somewhat of a mystery?

This tomb was first stumbled upon during extended surveys of the Sigu site territory, with excavation taking place within the last two years. Parts of the stone chamber and foundation of the dais have withstood time, as have most things left inside. The tomb bears no signs of looting. However, there are some details which, alongside discoveries from other archaeological sites, contribute to a shadow of uncertainty on the existing narrative of Li Xiangyi's life.

Firstly, is that the austerity of the tomb does not line up with what we know of Li Xiangyi. Although overall sufficient enough for someone of his great reputation, the tomb is rather plainly embellished. There are an unexpectedly small number of burial objects inside, with those present being neither rare nor expensive. For all his contributions to the jianghu, less money and resources were poured into remembrance of Li Xiangyi than seems proper for his time.

Secondly, and far more significantly, is that the tomb holds no human remains. Whether the fact of Li Xiangyi having no recovered body to bury was made public is unknown; if it was, we do not have record of it. Certainly those who arranged for the tomb to be built and sealed would have carried this with them the rest of their lives, but no one else may be accounted for. Granted, it is not impossible for a disappeared body to have been common knowledge or presumption, as Li Xiangyi was killed at sea with no guarantee of being found. Yet this, combined with the ordinary appearance of the tomb, causes the entire site to appear... a nominal thing. Constructed to maintain acknowledgement of Li Xiangyi's absence, though his death was only marked by words, rather than a physical state.

He was given a tomb, but was Li Xiangyi truly dead before it was built?

In terms of the aforementioned other archaeological site findings, there is one that potentially implicates Li Xiangyi's death at an interesting political junction, within the context of the dynasty. The Xi Dynasty was unstable and relatively short-lived, established after taking back the Central Plains and adjacent territories from the southern conquering state of Nanyin. It endured for just under two centuries, the first of which was fraught with pockets of conflict, with many jianghu skirmishes such as that between the Sigu Sect and the Jinyuan Alliance. The greatest threat to the Xi Dynasty (until its fall) came one hundred years after its founding. Recovered archival records from the Xi capital excavation report that remaining Nanyin loyalists attempted a coup, supported by jianghu organizations, including a restored Jinyuan Alliance (although whether Di Feisheng was still its leader at this time is unclear). This attack was ultimately unsuccessful, but important to note is that the leader of this renewed Nanyin force is described as being Shan Gudao, Li Xiangyi's former sect brother.

Although Li Xiangyi brought the Sigu Sect into a war upon news of Shan Gudao's death, that demise seems to have been faked, with Shan Gudao disappearing underground only to reappear as part of a later rebellion. Could Li Xiangyi have been aware of this? Was his reaction to Shan Gudao's apparent death genuine? Or part of a coordinated plan, using him as a reason to destroy the Jinyuan Alliance, to eradicate any future resistance? Did Li Xiangyi, too, fake his death alongside Shan Gudao, in service of a shared cause? Were remnants of the Sigu Sect instructed to build an empty tomb, cementing Li Xiangyi as a dead hero so he could work in the shadows of the jianghu instead?

This is merely speculation, contradicted by the fact that if Li Xiangyi had indeed done as such, unlike Shan Gudao, after his duel with Di Feisheng he has no reappearance in any surviving records or at any archaeological site. As well, Li Xiangyi should have had no motivation for committing to such a scheme, with even loyalty to Shan Gudao a stretch for putting all the lives of the Sigu Sect on the line. That being said, history has a way of surprising the present, and this theory may not be entirely ruled out. At any rate, Shan Gudao's survival is a baffling accompaniment to Li Xiangyi's (lack of a) burial, one which will hopefully receive clarifying answers in future archaeological developments.

Perhaps the strangest piece of the puzzle concerning the end of Li Xiangyi's life, however, is Di Feisheng. After the Jinyuan Alliance was scattered by the Sigu Sect, stories regarding Li Xiangyi declared him dead and disappeared. Yet not unlike Shan Gudao, he became known in the jianghu once more about ten years later, witnessing the Nanyin's attempted coup and living long after. His tomb remained untouched, and was excavated eight years ago as part of the greater Tianji Mountain site project. The location of Di Feisheng's tomb is surprising, not only because it directly links him to the powerful and wealthy He clan of Tianji Manor, but also because he was buried next to their sole young master during the Xi Dynasty, Fang Duobing.

The son of financial minister Fang Zeshi and engineering master He Xiaohui, Fang Duobing became a notable youxia travelling the jianghu in the emperor's name, assigned in the wake of the attempted Nanyin coup. According to palace records, he was also betrothed to Princess Zhaoling, although the marriage agreement was eventually formally dissolved. What is otherwise known of Fang Duobing was his admiration of Li Xiangyi, having styled himself as a follower and disciple of him during his youth. As well, one eye-catching artifact among Fang Duobing's burial goods was a preserved wooden replica of a blade, with Li Xiangyi's name carved near the hilt. Likely a children's toy, prized and kept safe throughout Fang Duobing's life.

The exact nature of the relationship between Di Feisheng and Fang Duobing is not entirely certain, but it must have been a very close one, for Di Feisheng to have the privilege of burial on the Tianji estate. This topic justifies future study for our understanding of the Tianji He clan, already known in prior generations for its socially subversive relationships, but pertinent to Li Xiangyi is that the man whose most infamous act was to kill him, was laid to rest beside one who revered him. Why was there such a bond between these two figures, if the stories of Li Xiangyi's death have any truth to them? Did Li Xiangyi really die by Di Feisheng's blade? Did Li Xiangyi's empty tomb, plausibly signifying Di Feisheng's innocence, alter his relationship with Fang Duobing? Or indeed, did Li Xiangyi, the man himself, have a part to play in this?

No traces of him from this time remain in the archaeological record, true. But this should not be taken to mean without doubt that he was not alive then at all.

The discovery of Li Xiangyi's tomb has been an exciting development for studying this era of the Xi Dynasty, but it has also outlined doubt in areas of one man's life that were previously taken as likely facts. Li Xiangyi's tomb is scarcely fitting for his name as a founding sect leader, built more for the sake of its existence than anything else, and there was no body sealed inside to begin with. In addition, Shan Gudao— someone dear to Li Xiangyi— established a precedent of faking his death. Di Feisheng, known across the jianghu for killing the man, held a close bond with someone later in life who had personally looked up to Li Xiangyi, and so he may not have been fully responsible for Li Xiangyi's death to begin with.

What truly happened to Li Xiangyi, resulting in a tomb such as this? The past holds the answer, knowing things that we do not. Hopefully the future of archaeology will continue leading to new discoveries, and allow us to more completely understand the legend that was Li Xiangyi.

[mysafehaneul]

AQUAMARINE: EPILOGUE

April Showers (M)

Dedication: For my girls, who like like their men secure and obsessed.

JEON WONWOO X READER

WORDS: 14k+

SERIES MASTERLIST

GENRE: ARRANGE CONTRACT MARRIAGE AU! ENEMIES TO LOVERS!

FLUFF!FLUFF!AND SMUT (I THINK WE HAD ENOUGH ANGST FOR 8 CHAPTERS)

A/N: So, I guess this is it huh? well Happy Reading!!

4 years ago Zurich, Switzerland KIU

Noella entered the lecture room, a spacious gallery-style classroom with long wooden benches and rows of paintings adorning the walls. The large windows bathed the room in natural light, and it felt more like an art gallery than a typical lecture hall. She quietly pushed the door open and entered, the soft creak of the hinges barely audible over the lecturer's voice.

The professor at the front of the room, Jeonghan, continued with his lecture on the definition of meaning during the Enlightenment era. He stood confidently in front of the class, with a relaxed yet engaging demeanour. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, giving him an air of intelligence.

As Noella found a seat at the back of the room and settled in, her eyes met Jeonghan's for a brief moment. There was a flash of recognition, but he didn't let it disrupt the flow of his lecture. With a warm smile and a nod, he acknowledged her presence before returning to his discourse.

"During the Enlightenment," he began, his voice both soothing and authoritative, "philosophers like Voltaire and Rousseau grappled with the concept of meaning. What does it mean to lead a meaningful life? Is it found in the pursuit of knowledge, happiness, or something more profound?"

The students listened intently as Jeonghan paced gracefully across the front of the room. His words were thought-provoking, encouraging his students to consider the philosophical inquiries of the past and apply them to their own lives.

She couldn't help but be captivated by his lecture, not only because of the subject matter but also because of the way he presented it. She had known Jeonghan for years, and seeing him in his element was both familiar and awe-inspiring.

He continued, "Voltaire famously stated, 'Judge a man by his questions rather than his answers.' This is a profound notion because it encourages us to continuously seek understanding. In an era marked by intellectual growth, philosophers challenged the status quo and sought to unravel the mysteries of existence."

The students absorbed the wisdom he shared, their eyes reflecting the curiosity sparked by his teaching.

Jeonghan, with his usual eloquence, continued his lecture, delving into the void that exists within humanity, a craving for meaning that often goes unnoticed. He cited Nietzsche's concept of this void, the insatiable longing for purpose that some fill immediately with their surroundings and become fervent devotees of a cause, never realizing the hollowness they've concealed. "The process of discovering that void for the first time," he explained, "is a pivotal moment in our lives. It's when we come to the stark realization that something is lacking in that department."

As he spoke, Jeonghan gestured passionately, his words resonating with the students. "Albert Camus presents us with an ultimate example of struggle and suffering, only to have our efforts amount to nothing. This is a metaphor for life, for Camus. We exist in a vast, inconceivably large, and complex universe, and with every step we take, we're battling against a tidal wave of forces that could end our existence at any moment."

He paced back and forth at the front of the class, emphasizing the challenges of human existence. "We live through good times and endure bad ones, all while accepting the reality that the universe, in all its grandeur, couldn't care less about our individual actions. It's true that in a humanistic lens, what we do matters within the microcosm of our lives, but on the universal scale, we're a mere speck on an ordinary galaxy. The sun will eventually explode in 5 billion years, and our existence will come to a definitive end."

Jeonghan's eyes scanned the room, and he implored his students to consider the meaning of all their suffering, effort, and sacrifice. "Where does it all lead? At the end of the day, we're like Sisyphus, condemned to push the rock up the hill only for it to roll back down, forcing us to begin again. But in our condemnation, we should strive not to agonize over the process but to find enjoyment in the act of pushing the boulder as far as we can."

He paused, his gaze intense, and then continued. "The experience and reflection come into play. What we're reflecting upon may appear meaningless to outsiders, but when we are experiencing it, it means the world. Yet, at what point do we realize it's all meaningless? It's the moment we stop being present, take a step back, and question why we're doing this in the first place. We look around and condemn it all as meaningless. This is where the concept of meaning comes into play."

Jeonghan raised a finger, emphasizing the contrast between reflection and lived experience. "When we reflect, we stop doing whatever we're engaged in, and we use our capacity for reason to ask questions. But it's important to recognize how presumptuous this entire process is. We apply this tool of reason to the universe, attempting to derive conclusions, yet what if the reason isn't the right tool for the job?"

He took a deep breath before continuing. "Reflections and reason, as human capacities, may not be the right tools to determine the meaning or meaninglessness of the things we do. What if, instead, we focus on the task at hand, to immerse ourselves fully in what we care about? Reflection is valuable, and a necessary part of life, but it can lead to diminishing returns. If you reflect too much, the only thing it'll do is deteriorate the quality of your lived experience."

As the lecture neared its conclusion, Jeonghan's eyes sparkled with a sense of purpose and resolution. "Embrace the absurdity of the universe, and then immerse yourself fully in the tasks you care about. Just like Sisyphus, who made the rock his own, we should learn to love what we do. Appreciate the grooves in the rock, the hindrances in your path, and the patterns to success. Love what you're doing without constantly pondering if it will have any meaning. After all, if the ultimate doom is inevitable, if everything will cease to exist, why not live and die doing what you love and believe in? Enjoy every moment of pushing your own boulder, and do it with passion and determination."

With a final nod and a warm smile, Jeonghan concluded his lecture on the meaning of life during the Enlightenment era.

As the students packed their bags, Jeonghan left them with a parting comment. "Remember, class, your term papers are due at the end of this week. And my sincere condolences to any grandparents, uncles, and aunts who are going to meet their end at 11:59 on the 29th."

The room filled with a mixture of laughter and groans, the students either appreciating Jeonghan's dark humor or dreading the impending deadline. Noella gathered her belongings, slinging her purse over her shoulder, and made her way down to Jeonghan's desk.

"That was impressive, Dr. Yoon," she complimented him with a warm smile.

"Thank you, but what brings you here?" Jeonghan inquired.

"Oh, the dean just invited me to give a speech for the department," she explained. "Our company is going to join one of the on-campus recruiting events, so I thought I'd see what you've been up to."

Jeonghan nodded in understanding. "Ah, that sounds interesting. Want to catch up over lunch?"

Noella’s laughter rang through the classroom. "Of course, it's not like we didn't meet for dinner last night." The two of them shared a friendly chuckle before leaving the classroom.

........

........

Present day.

London.

The morning light filtered through the window, casting a soft glow in the hotel suite. Empty bottles still littered the room, and discarded shirts and pants were strewn across the furniture. Wonwoo slept soundly on the bed, his deep slumber undisturbed even by the honking of cars on the street below. The sound was just background noise until it eventually stirred him. His hand reached out, searching for you, but the spot next to him was empty. A sense of panic rushed through him, and he jolted awake.

He looked around the room, his eyes darting from one corner to another. The droplets of tears on his pillows from the night before served as a painful reminder. "No…" he groaned, his heart sinking as he believed that you had left him.

As the ensuite washroom doors opened, you walked out, dressed in the clothes you had worn to Jeonghan's wedding. Your hair was still damp as you towel-dried it. You stood in front of the mirror, unaware of the emotional turmoil Wonwoo had just experienced.

However, his reaction was quite different from what you expected. Wonwoo dashed from the bed, letting the quilt fall to the floor, and enveloped you in a tight hug from behind. "I thought you left," he confessed.

"Shall I pinch you to make sure I'm still here?" you teased, but he remained mostly silent, holding onto you. As you began to apply moisturizers to your arms and neck, you spoke again. "Babe, I appreciate the affection, but can you please shower? We have to pick up Noel and then head to the airport."

You looked up at the mirror to catch his reflection. His hand was nestled against your neck as if he were sleeping while standing. You couldn't help but question the abundance of bottles in the room, asking, "By the way, why are there so many bottles?"

Wonwoo cleared his throat, a bit flustered. "You're right; I should shower."

With that, he planted a kiss on your clothed shoulder and headed to the shower, leaving you to roll your eyes at his antics. As you got ready for the day ahead, you couldn't help but think about the significant conversation you'd had with him the previous night

The previous day, you had called Jeonghan to assure him that you were safe. After shouting and sobbing at you for 15 minutes finally left for his Honeymoon and left Noel with Leila for the night. You and Wonwoo had spent the evening talking, staring from your whole trajectory of Noella and Joshua to Nikolia's death threats.

Now, in the hotel suite, you finished putting on your shoes when Wonwoo emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He began to dress in a black suit, and as you watched him, your eyes couldn't help but linger on the marks your nails had left on his defined back. You quickly looked away, back to the task at hand.

After buttoning and tucking in his shirt, Wonwoo rolled up his sleeves, leaving his veined forearms exposed. You picked up your earrings when he softly called your name, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.

"Hmm," you replied, struggling to clasp the earring lock.

Wonwoo walked closer, stopping beside you. Both of your reflections were visible in the full-length mirror. When you finally managed to clasp the lock, you let out a sigh of relief and reached for the other one when he took your left hand in his and turned you to face him. His thumb traced soothing patterns on your knuckles as he began to speak.

"I know our beginning was far from perfect, but even with its imperfections, it has given me something more than I could wish for. Today, as we walk out of this room, I want us to step into a new beginning—a future where there are no more secrets, no more contracts, just us and Noel. I know I don't deserve you, but I'm willing to humble myself before you."

Wonwoo then got down on one knee, and your eyes widened. A soft gasp escaped your lips as he continued, "I will try every day to prove myself worthy of you if you'll have me."

With trembling hands, he unclenched his fingers to reveal your wedding ring. "Wonu…" you whispered, a lump rising in your throat.

His eyes glistened with tears as he spoke from his heart. "I don't know when it happened, y/n. There were times when I even detested people who changed entirely when they entered a relationship. After Eleanor, I didn't bother seeking that kind of connection. But here I am, on my knees, asking my wife to let me love her, to allow me into her heart. Will you, y/n?"

The tears blurred your vision, but you managed to nod vigorously. Wonwoo carefully slid the ring onto your finger, and as he stood up, he immediately pulled you into a tight hug, overwhelmed with emotions.

As you and Wonwoo walked out of the suite and into the parlor, you were slightly surprised to see four tall, equally buff, and slightly intimidating men standing in the middle of the room. You glanced at your husband with a quizzical expression, and he gave your back a gentle push, saying, "Don't worry, they are your and Noel's new bodyguards."

You blinked in astonishment and turned to look at the four men who were still standing in a respectful bow. "Wonu, I don't need bodyguards," you protested.

Wonwoo gestured to the men to rise and wait outside before addressing your concerns. "Y/n, I am well aware that you're capable of protecting yourself, but I'm not taking any risks or having any discussion on this matter. Please, darling, humor me. You won't even notice them. They've been following you and Noel since the day you arrived."

You hesitated, wanting to argue further, but his words made sense. "But it looks awkward to walk around with guards like…"

"Y/n, although I'm gravely grateful to Noel's grandfather, I can't forget or forgive what his son did," Wonwoo declared with determination. "You have to realize that you're not just an L/N anymore; you're a Jeon now. I'll be damned if I even allow a fly to harm my wife."

Before you could say anything in response, Wonwoo sealed his statement with a tender peck on your lips and began walking toward the exit, your hands clasped together as you followed him.

........

.........

Nikolia found himself in a disorienting darkness, tied securely to a cold, unforgiving chair. He struggled to grasp any sense of time, all memory of the past hours and days escaping him. After his arrest, he had been transported to an undisclosed location, but he had no way of knowing for how long he had been in this inky abyss. The van that brought him here had taken a bizarre turn into the unknown, and that's when the men had covered his face, shrouding him in a suffocating blackness.

His desperate cries and frenzied curses echoed in the void, but they were swallowed by the oppressive silence that clung to him like a shroud. The journey had been a nightmare, a cacophony of fear and dread. When the vehicle finally stopped, his captors grabbed him and dragged him into this unseen space.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and he heard footsteps approach. His heart raced as the men, with hands like steel, grabbed him and removed the blindfold that had been his only connection to the world. A rush of blinding light stabbed at his eyes, and he squinted, disoriented, and dazzled.

Nikolia's first instinct was to struggle against the restraints that bound him to the chair. "Let go of me, you bastard! You're messing with the wrong man here, All I need is one phone call and your whole family is done for" he yelled, the defiance in his voice strained with anger and frustration.

Wonwoo, took a languid drag from his cigarette, his eyes hidden beneath a veneer of cold detachment. "Am I?" He arched one meticulously groomed eyebrow as a henchman in the room landed a brutal punch on Nikolia's face, sending shockwaves of pain coursing through his body. Blood sprayed from his mouth as the impact made his jaw rattle.

As the coppery tang of blood mingled with the acrid scent of tobacco, Wonwoo continued, seemingly unperturbed." you know Nikolia, when I first saw you in the court I understood what a weakling you are, tch, such a waste of a pretty face" Wonwoo tilted his head to the side, as though pondering an intriguing conundrum. "You didn't even have the caliber to fight like a man. If you wanted the money all you had to do was come and beg us"

Nonchalantly, Wonwoo discarded his cigarette and crushed it underfoot, further emphasizing his indifference to Nikolia's suffering. "But no," he continued, rising from his seat with calculated elegance, "you had no go and get yourself get fucked over by your own stupidity"

Wonwoo seized Nikolia by the hair, his grip merciless, and forced him to meet his unrelenting gaze." you should've known your enemy before messing with them, if you get the chance from all the bending, ask who Jeon bo Hyuk was" With those ominous words, Wonwoo swung a heavy fist, striking Nikolia squarely across the cheekbones. The sudden, blinding pain sent white spots dancing before Nikolia's eyes. "That's for even thinking about harming my wife" He gasped as the warmth of blood gushed from his nose.

For a brief moment, Wonwoo stood above him, an imposing figure against the harsh light, before he delivered another devastating blow," and that's on behalf of Noel" he declared, his voice laced with cold fury.

The room filled with the dissonant sounds of Nikolia's choking gasps and labored breathing.

The man in the black suit handed Wonwoo a towel, while behind Nikolia, a maniacal laugh and a series of painful coughs echoed. Nikolia's laughter, punctuated by bloodied gums, grated on the nerves of everyone present, "You're gonna regret this bell boy"

Without turning to face him, Wonwoo retorted, "And what are you going to do, tattle to Yunho?"

Nikolia's eyes widened in alarm as Wonwoo turned to the man in the black suit and commanded, "Return him to Richardson, make sure to tell him to treat him with so much care that he regains his faith in god again"

With a murmured "Yes, boss," the men swiftly began the process of transporting Nikolia out of this nightmarish confrontation.

"And to think," Nikolia sneered, even in his bloodied and beaten state, "that bitch has you wrapped around her finger. I guess her pussy has that effect I still rememb--""

Before he could complete his sentence, Wonwoo's fist struck with unrestrained force, and the chair, still bound to Nikolia's body, fell to the ground. The world swirled into a whirlpool of darkness as Nikolia's consciousness slipped away. Wonwoo gazed down at the battered and broken Nikolia, his voice laced with icy authority. "Rule of the thumb, you keep my wife's name out of your mouth," he declared, the weight of his words bearing down upon the man.

(A/N: Dude why didn't I made wonwoo mafia opens another wip )

........

........

One Month later

The evening of the 75th Anniversary gala was marked by an air of anticipation as you sat in a plush chair, the skilled hands of your makeup artist, Ashton, expertly crafting your hair into a glamorous masterpiece. You held a phone call with Racheal, going over the final details for the night.

"Make sure no more than five interviews," you instructed, your voice firm.

"That's done," Racheal confirmed promptly. "Each will get 2 minutes, and no personal questions."

"Good," you replied with a nod. "Are you there yet?"

Racheal's voice sounded through the phone, "No, just about to reach."

"Okay, then drive safe," you told her before ending the call. The preparations were in full swing as you adorned a stunning red-plated off-shoulder cape dress with a high slit. The fabric draped elegantly around your form, exuding an air of regal sophistication.

Just as you were getting ready, there came a discreet knock at the door. Chan, who had once stood as a symbol of discord between you and Wonwoo, now entered the room, holding a blue box in his hands. While things had improved between him and Chan, the tension still lingered his presence often an uncomfortable reminder of past misunderstandings. Wonwoo was prepared to go so far as to fire Chan in his act of contrition. However, you intervened, reminding him, "Why should someone else suffer for something you initiated?"

"Mr. Jeon sent you this," Chan explained, "and expressed his desire to see you wear it tonight."

You excused everyone from the room, leaving only Ashton behind, and Chan proceeded to open the box with a sense of reverence. Revealed within was a necklace that bore a stunning piece of history—an emerald and diamond creation that had once belonged to Catalina the Second of Russia. The gem sparkled with a rare, captivating beauty that made even Ashton gasp in awe.

"This is from the Anakami collection, part of the royal vault of Russia," Chan informed you, his tone respectful and impressed.

You nodded, your knowledge of the piece shining through. "From Catalina the Second."

Chan's understanding smile mirrored his acknowledgment of your profound familiarity with the necklace. Your appreciative smile revealed your thanks, and you gestured for Ashton to place the exquisite piece around your neck.

As the necklace adorned your neckline, he couldn't help but compliment, "Indeed, your husband has an eye for a gem."

Thanking Chan for his delivery, you expected him to take his leave, but he remained in place. After Ashton left the room, Chan went into a polite bow. You looked at him and turning back to your reflection with a more somber expression, you addressed him.

"Get up, Chan," you said gently, "the workers should not apologize for their loyalty to their boss. You did what any subordinate would do. I am not angry with you."

Chan's smile returned, and he bowed once more, an expression of gratitude and humility in his eyes. As he prepared to leave the room, you stopped him with a final piece of advice.

"Chan," you began in a soft but firm tone, "next time, try to keep your experiences and advice to yourself. Hmm?"

"Duly noted, madam," Chan replied with an appreciative nod. The understanding between you felt like a small step toward restoring a sense of normalcy to your relationship.

You were nearly ready, as Ashton entered again to finish the final touches.

The grand gala was a spectacle of opulence and glamour. The chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystal facets glistening in the soft, warm light. Servers in impeccable uniforms weaved through the crowd, offering trays of exquisite hors d'oeuvres and champagne flutes. The air was filled with the clicks of cameras and the hum of hushed conversations as guests from various elite circles, including A-listers, entrepreneurs, and influential individuals from both sides of your families, mingled and celebrated.

The event's announcer took center stage, standing beside the grand stairs, and her voice resonated through the room as all eyes turned toward her. "Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you all to the grand celebration of 75 years of L/N Diamonds and Special Stones. We gather here to honor the visionary who started it all 75 years ago with his hard work, dedication, and passion for a woman's best friend. What makes this evening even more special is that it is also a celebration in honor of the newlyweds, the heiress of the L/Ns, and the prince of JJ Group, Jeon Wonwoo."

The crowd erupted into applause, and Wonwoo, surrounded by business partners, raised his glass, receiving smiles and nods from those around him.

The announcer continued, "Now, without further ado, I would like to call upon the stage the star of the evening, the diamond heiress and the CEO of Fareed Switzerland, Y/n L/N."

All eyes turned to the top of the grand stairs, and the clapping of the guests filled the hall. You descended the stairs gracefully, your red cape trailing behind you, giving you the appearance of a character from a classic film. The necklace adorning your neck, a magnificent royal heirloom from Russia, captured everyone's attention.

Everything seemed to slow down for Wonwoo as he watched you descend the stairs. He was struck by the realization of his incredible luck in being married to such a remarkable woman. His chest swelled with pride and second-guessed his luck.

As you reached the stage and adjusted the microphone, you smiled at the host and began your address, "Thank you, Lana, for that lovely introduction. Although the second half was lost to me because I was busy thinking about how not to trip on the stairs."Laughter rippled through the crowd. "Since I'm not a big fan of long speeches, I'll keep this address short and sweet. This evening is not about celebrating L/N Diamonds and Fareed but about those who dare to dream and the realists who support their dreamers, like Mr. Locke, Mr. Kim, and Mr. Jeong, who are present here this evening."

The spotlight fell upon their table, and you acknowledged them with a nod as they raised their glasses. "They started this journey with my grandfather 75 years ago, and, most importantly, to the backbone of this foundation who are present here—from the miners to the designers." You paused a round of applause resonated through the crowds, "When I was young, my grandfather would often be stuck in his office, spending hours analyzing the diamonds. He talked to me passionately about their history."

You continued, "One day, in my naivete, I asked, 'Grandpa, who do you love more, the diamonds or Grandma?' It might seem like a silly question, but he turned to me and said, 'Your grandma.'"

You recalled his words, "How come? You rarely spend time with her." He laughed and replied, "Because when I make a bracelet she likes, the smile on her face and the pride with which she wears that piece make me feel like she's carrying my love with her everywhere she goes. Love is never constant. Some days can be bad, and some good, but we do not live in days; we live in memories. These diamonds remind us of why we choose to wake up every day and be with the person we love."

You expressed your gratitude for the past 75 years, "For the last 75 years, we have not only been making diamonds but tokens of love that eternalize our memories—resilient, forever cherishable, and bound by legacy. So, let's raise our glasses to the 75 years of trust from our customers and the passion of our designers.

To my parents, who taught me love, to my son, who reminds me of how to love."

Your eyes found Noel standing with your father-in-law, holding his hand just a few feet away from the stage. Your eyes find Wonwoo's across the room when you smile as you address your husband, "And to my husband, who has shown me what it feels like to be loved."

The entire room joined in, raising their glasses and echoing your words, "To love."

Wonwoo mouthed the words, "To love," as he emptied his flute, a contented smile on his face.

(the angel on the left "This is getting too fluffy"

angel on the right "It is an epilogue it is supposed to be fluffy")

The music resumed, and you gracefully stepped down from the stage, leaving Rachel to deal with the waiting media. After about 20 minutes of enduring half-baked sexist questions and borderline invasions of privacy regarding your marriage and the recent conflict, you finally returned to the party and began greeting the guests one by one.

On the other side of the party, Rachel had finished her duties and decided to take a break at the bar. She ordered a drink and was savoring the moment when someone approached her. There was a slight hesitation in his demeanor, but he continued, "Shall I give you my card? I think you're going to need an attorney tonight."

Rachel furrowed her brows in confusion, asking, "Why?" Lowering his voice a bit, he replied, "Because you're dressed to kill." She rolled her eyes and smiled behind her glass. "Come on, it wasn't that bad," he defended.

"I didn't say anything," she replied, looking up at him. Their eyes locked, and Rachel felt hers drifting down to his lips. Unconsciously, she bit her lip and shook her head to snap out of her trance. That's when Jungkook cleared his throat and began, "Listen, Rach, about the other day…"

Rachel cut him off, saying, "It's alright. It doesn't matter. It was just a kiss. We met by chance, had an argument about wines, and then one thing led to another. It was a mistake, so let's forget about it, okay?"

Jungkook felt a pang of rejection, something quite unfamiliar to him in his experiences with women. He clenched his hands inside his pockets and wanted to say he didn't want to forget it, but before he could, a server interjected. "Excuse me, Ms. Lee. Madam Y/n is calling for you." Following the server's indication, Rachel spotted you standing in a group and beckoning her over with a subtle gesture as your eyes met. She got down from the stool, took her drink, and told Jungkook, "It was nice meeting you, Jungkook. Take care," before leaving him.

Jungkook, feeling a strange wave of melancholy, needing some air, took a glass of scotch and walked towards the balcony.

As you saw Rachel approaching, you gently pulled her to your side and introduced her, "Nora, Minny, gentlemen, this is Rachel Lee, currently the Managing Director at L/N's. Rach, this is the board of Fareed." They all exchanged greetings and shook hands, sharing a few words and smiles. You continued, "People, I hope you all treat Rachel well. She's my nomination for the COO candidate for Fareed."

Rachel could feel her eyes widen in astonishment, and her mouth slightly opened, but she quickly schooled her features. Bubbles of excitement tingled through her, just like they did when she kissed Jungkook. She stopped herself from following that train of thought and focused on answering Minny's questions.

.......

You were engrossed in a conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Kwon, Joon-hee's in law's, who was complimenting your exquisite necklace Mrs. Kwon, leaning towards you with a sly smile, said, "Thank you, I'm glad you both could make it. I thought you'd be in Japan."

Mr. Kwon nodded in agreement as his wife continued, "We were, but then Sunmi insisted we attend, especially since we didn't get the chance to meet her daughter-in-law due to your wish for a quick and private wedding."

You responded with a thin-lipped smile and a nod, but before you could reply, a familiar arm wrapped around your waist, enveloping you in a comforting scent.“There you are sweetheart, Sorry I am late, I was looking everywhere for you” Wonwoo smiled down at you and planted a soft kiss on the corner of your lips.

"Evening, Mr. and Mrs. Kwon. How have you been?" Wonwoo greeted them.

Mrs. Kwon interjected, "We're fine, as much as age allows us to be. I was just telling your wife that her preference for private meetings can sometimes leave a bad impression regarding close relationships."

You were about to respond, but Wonwoo beat you to it. He explained, "Well, it was my wish to have a private wedding. I didn't want to waste plates, where mouths would be busy chatting instead of chewing food."

Mrs. Kwon's expression soured, and she clicked her tongue against her teeth. On the other hand, Mr. Kwon smiled and reached out to shake hands with Wonwoo. "How are you, young man? Why don't I see you around the club anymore? You know, Y/n, he'd give even Matsuyama a run for his money."

Wonwoo gave a humble shake of his head. "Mr. Kwon is too kind. Well, if it's okay with you, may I steal my wife?"

Mr. Kwon let out a hearty laugh and said, "Sure, young man."

Wonwoo swiftly pulled you away from the couple, and as you walked side by side, he leaned in and whispered in your ear, "You look absolutely gorgeous."

You teased back, "You don't look half bad yourself." The subtle flashes of cameras continued as you asked about his interviews. He gave you a tired look that conveyed his reluctance to discuss it at the moment.

As you both approached your parents, Noel ran to you and hugged your legs. "Baby boy, are you having fun?" You asked, and he nodded, pointing towards Somi. "Can Somi and I go to the chocolate fountain?"

"Sure, why not," you gestured for them to follow Tham, As he waved goodbye to your dad.

With the kids occupied, you talked to your parents, complimenting both your mother and mother-in-law on their incredible planning and coordination. Your parents were going to Italy for a bit of business that your father had, followed by a leisure trip to Sicily.

As you were about to move on to greet other guests, Lana took the microphone and said, "Although the average wedding reception occurs within an hour of the ceremony this one took 3 months" subtle chuckle from the guest "upon the suggestion of Mrs. Sunmi Jeon herself, I would like to request Mr. and Mrs. Jeon to bestow the honor of their first dance."

You looked around, a bit surprised, as all eyes were on you, anticipating your dance. You were about to shake your head in refusal when Wonwoo extended his hand towards you, his eyes locked onto yours. "May I have this dance, Mrs. Jeon?" he asked with a charming smile.

You looked at his outstretched hand and then met his gaze. There was a shared understanding, a connection that ran deeper than words could express. With a nod and a graceful curtsy, you accepted his invitation. You placed your hand in his, feeling his strong, warm grasp, and he pulled you gently towards him.

The crowd hushed in anticipation as the first notes of the waltz enveloped the room. You and Wonwoo moved together as if you were the only two people in the world. The dance floor felt like a world of its own, a place where only the two of you existed.

Your red dress swirled around you, its cape fluttering in harmony with the rhythm of the music. Wonwoo's tuxedo looked impeccable, and the soft colors of your outfits complemented each other perfectly. With each step and twirl, you moved as one, your eyes locked, and smiles shared.

On the balcony, Jungkook stood gazing at the night sky, an air of melancholy surrounding him. The soft glow of the stars above painted a serene backdrop to his contemplation. The world seemed to move on around him as he lost himself in his thoughts.

A voice broke through his reverie as Joonhee opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony. She had a teasing tone in her voice as she asked, "Hey, you aren't planning on jumping, are you?"

Jungkook didn't turn to look at her. He replied with a hint of wry humor, "Not without leaving a testimony that if I'm found dead, the first person to look for is you."

She walked over to him and stood by his side, her back against the railing, and her elbows resting on it. Curiosity laced her words as she asked, "You're wearing the same expression you had when we had to put Dora down."

Jungkook offered a rueful smile, reminded of their first horse, and said, "Not really, just thinking about a few things. Where's your husband?"

She glanced towards the hall where you and Wonwoo were dancing. "He's near the chocolate fountain with the kids."

Jungkook let out a dry chuckle. "Do you ever think that you're raising two kids, not just one?"

Joonhee smiled and nodded. "Every day."

A comfortable silence settled between them as they both leaned against the railing, watching the two of you dancing inside the hall. Eventually, Joonhee began to speak, her words filled with wisdom. "I've learned in life that if something doesn't work out, it means something better is waiting around the corner. You just have to be patient."

Jungkook clicked his tongue and voiced his doubts. "Sometimes certain things don't get better with time. They always take a part of you with them, and you're left incomplete, no matter what you do to fill the void."

Joonhee offered her perspective. "Then maybe you're filling that void with the wrong things." Both of them turned their gaze towards you and Wonwoo, who were concluding your dance.

"Remember when Eleanor left, oppa?" Joonhee hummed, her thoughts drifting back. "He was nothing but an empty shell, always working, never laughing, and not even attending the same places as she did. I hated her for what she did." She turned to Jungkook. "But that didn't stop you, did it?"

Jungkook shrugged, nonchalantly. "I can't be bothered about her. Her husband is an important client of my firm, and you know how it works. We don't really have a choice."

Joonhee nodded thoughtfully. "Look at him now. You know, Jungkook, things do get better with time. But if you find something you really want, then you have to fight for it."

Jungkook questioned with a hint of uncertainty, "What if fighting makes it worse?"

"Then let it go," Joonhee advised. "If it's meant to be, it will be." They watched as you and Wonwoo concluded your dance, finding solace in the knowledge that sometimes, life had its own way of bringing better things when least expected.

As the final notes of the music filled the air, you and Wonwoo came to a graceful stop, and the room erupted in applause.

.......

As the night wore on and the party grew livelier, the atmosphere became even more festive after the dinner. You had just sent Noel home and Wonwoo was engrossed in conversation with some old college friends, their laughter echoing from the other side of the room. you found yourself near the bar, waiting for your drink. From amidst the crowd, you spotted a familiar face approaching, and a smile of recognition crossed your lips as he stood in front of you.

"It's been a while," he said as he slid next to you.

You nodded and replied, "Three years, I suppose. How have you been, Mr. Choi?"

Seungcheol grinned, "Y/n, please. I thought we were friends." He tilted his head, and you nodded in agreement.

"I've been good, just returned from Denmark," you told him.

"I see. And how's Mr. and Mrs. Choi?" he asked.

"Same old, playing the Cupid," you replied, and both of you shared a laugh.

"I would say you could relate, but here you are, married, leaving your comrade all alone," he said with a mock frown.

"Oh, come on. You know there was a limit to how far we could keep up the ruse. My mother caught on before the third date," you reminded him.

Wonwoo couldn't help but smile as he took a sip from his glass, listening to his friend's humorous recollection of their past swimming adventures, including the infamous incident where they had stolen his clothes, leaving him standing naked. However, his laughter concealed as His gaze wandered around the room and eventually landed on you, near the bar, sharing a hearty laugh at something Seungcheol had just said. Wonwoo's eyes were fixed on you, his brow furrowed in thought as he tried to place where he had seen Seungcheol before.

He watched as you laughed freely with someone else, your joy radiating from you like a warm glow. A tinge of unease settled in his chest as he realized that he couldn't easily divert his attention from the sight of you both having such a good time together.

"That's a cute kid," Seungcheol commented as you showed him pictures of Noel from Jeonghan's wedding. "Wow, so that's Jeonghan and Victor you were telling me about?"

You nodded and locked your phone. He raised an eyebrow, seemingly remembering something. "And what about that friend of yours, what's her name?"

"Noella," you assisted.

"Yes, what about her?"

You cleared your throat and informed him with a sad smile, "She and her husband passed away in a car accident two years ago."

A look of remorse flashed in Seungcheol's deep, dark eyes. "My sincere condolences, Y/n. I didn't know."

You smiled, saying, "It's alright, just life, you know."

He nodded in agreement, and a moment of silence passed between the two of you. Seungcheol then picked up his glass and said, "Well, I wasn't going to make it tonight, but I was curious to meet the man who managed to sweep you off your feet. Where is he?"

Before you could answer, Wonwoo's voice sounded from behind. "Why don't you meet him yourself?" You turned, slightly surprised, to find Wonwoo standing beside you, emitting a slightly intimidating vibe while keeping his eyes trained on Seungcheol.

You tried to break the stare-down, saying, "Seungcheol oppa, meet Jeon Wonwoo, my husband." You grabbed Wonwoo's arm and continued, "Wonwoo, this is Choi Seongcheol, you must have heard of him, Choi Motors and Tyres."

Wonwoo frowned and shook his head, saying, "Nah, doesn't ring a bell." You gave him a wide-eyed look, shocked by his response.

Seungcheol just laughed and reassured, "Y/n, maybe we have to work harder to reach the tall towers," extending his hand for Wonwoo to shake.

Wonwoo's hand was still in his pocket, and you dug your nails into his bicep. He reluctantly took his hand out of his pocket and gave a tight grip and shake. Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, saying, "It's a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Jeon."

Wonwoo replied, "Likewise. May I know how you know my wife?"

Seungcheol explained, "Y/n and I go way back. Our mothers are friends, and they decided to set us up together. So, we used to date."

"Fake date," you corrected.

Seungcheol teased, "Really, it was real for me." He felt Wonwoo's grip tighten, but he was enjoying making the man squirm. "Our mothers set us up to save the hassle, so we'd say we were on dates when, in truth, we'd just meet for 4-6 minutes and then part ways."

You chuckled as you continued, "Then, oppa had to leave for Denmark, and that's that."

"Tch, if not, you'd be Mrs. Choi today," he said with feigned remorse, further provoking Wonwoo. Wonwoo's smirk grew as he clenched his jaw.

He took his right hand out of his pocket, which was brushing your side. You released your grip on his arm and rested on your hand side, As he wrapped an arm around your waist, a little lower on the hip. You gave him a quizzical look.

"Then I should treat my mother-in-law better for being so quick-witted," he remarked.

"Wonwoo, did you know—" you began, but he cut you off.

"Y/n, Dad said he was leaving. Do you want to see him off?"

You felt a slight irritation flare within you as he cut you off, but you masked it with a smile, nodded, and turned to Seongcheol.

"It was so nice catching up with you, Oppa. If you're here for a while, why don't you come to our house? I'm sure it would be fun."

"Ah, I wish, but I have to fly back in a few days. But it was nice seeing you again, Mr. Jeon," Seongcheol said.

"Mr. Cho."

"Congratulations on your marriage and 75 years of L/N's."

"Thank you, Oppa."

Seongcheol looked at Wonwoo and advised, "Take care of this one; she can be a little feisty."

Wonwoo responded, "You don't say." With that, Seongcheol turned and left with a smile on his face.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Wonwoo turned to you and said, "Funny man. So, how many more have you fake-dated?"

You gave him a glare. "What was that?"

He looked down at you, confused. "What was what?"

"How many have I fake-dated before Seongcheol oppa?"

"Oh, now he's your oppa," Wonwoo mumbled.

"I can't believe this, Rude bastard" you muttered, shaking your head as you walked away from him. He glanced at your retreating figure and asked Himself, "Was I really that rude?"

.........

It was 2 am by the time you both reached home, your whole body aching from standing all evening. Adding fuel to the fire was Wonwoo, who still lingered around you. You managed to give him a little cold shoulder, still pissed at how he cut you off and treated your guest and asked that question. You never asked him how many women he indulged in, now did you?

As you were about to shut the door, a hand stopped it. "This is my room too," he said matter-of-factly.

"Right," you replied as you picked up the phone you threw on the bed. You were about to leave when he stopped you.

"Y/n, don't be like that. Come on, baby."

"Don't 'baby' me. Why did you have to act like some territorial brute, as if I have—"

"I know, I'm sorry. I just… I don't know, I didn't like seeing you laughing with another man. It pissed me off, okay?"

You raised your brows, pressing your lips into a thin line. "So, can I ask you if I do that as a profession? Fake date people? Do you even know what it feels like to have someone always nagging on top of your head, huh? With another shit-ton of things going on in life?" Your voice fell an octave.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry. It's just… fuck, I was just so pissed that I don't know what got over me, and I said that. I was just jealous."

You turned to him. "Would you forgive me if I admit I was?" He looked like a kicked puppy, and your anger radiated off of you.

You both walked back to your bedroom. Wonwoo's knees hit the edge of the bed as he plopped down, looking up at you. You gave him a knowing look, teasing, "How jealous?"

You placed your knees between his legs, pressing your kneecap against his groin. A soft hiss escaped his lips. He admitted, "So jealous that I wanted to take you right there in front of all those people. The moment you walked down those stairs, I couldn't believe my luck, that I am married to you."

You felt your heart quicken, and the familiar fire ignited within you. Slowly, you reached to remove the pin holding your hair in a half updo, letting your hair cascade down. You were about to take off your earrings when he stopped you, saying, "Leave them on."

He grabbed your hips, making you take a step back with one foot on the bed, causing you to fall back down. He pulled you to straddle his lap. Both of you leaned in, and your lips brushed against each other. You grabbed the back of his head and jerked it back, teasingly saying, "Nuh-uh."

You got off his lap and walked to the dressing table, settling down on the plush chair.

You gestured with your fingers in a "come hither" motion. On your command, Wonwoo discarded his suit jacket, tossing it somewhere in the room. He walked over to where you were sitting. When he was just two steps away, you raised your hand to halt him in his tracks, and he stopped.

"On your knees," you ordered.

"Y/N," he warned.

You raised your brows, taunting him. "So you don't want your forgiveness?"

He hesitated. You repeated your command, "Come here to me on your knees, Wonwoo, or I'll leave the room."

Without missing a beat, he dropped to his knees and took the remaining two steps, bringing him between your parted legs. A glimpse of your panties was visible from the slightly hiked slit in your dress. Wonwoo licked his lips and swallowed as he knelt before you.

Once he was on his knees between your legs, his hands reached to touch your thighs.

"Did I say you can touch me?" you asked.

"You're playing with fire," he threatened.

"Why, are you afraid of being extinguished?"

"Open my shoes," you demanded.

His eyes were burning with desire, but equally aroused and dilated. His hands reached your feet, and you raised your feet as the shoes fell with a thud, the relief of finally removing them washing over you.

Wonwoo brought your ankle near his mouth and bit on the Achilles tendon, making you hiss.

"Show me how sorry you are," you breathed out. His hands gripped your thighs to pull you to the edge of the seat.

"Tch, no hands," you commanded.

"How will I?" he asked.

"That's not my problem," you replied.

He removed his hands from your thighs and gripped the sides of the chair's cushion, his knuckles turning white as he slowly kissed his way up from your calves to your inner thighs, biting, kissing, and licking until he reached your panties. He took a whiff, rubbed his nose, and muffled, "How will I remove them?"

Your excitement was building, evident in your soaked panties. You condescended, leering down at him, "Foolish man can't even do this much alone."

Suddenly, he gave a hot lick and a soft bite on your labia, making you jolt and yelp. You grabbed his hair and pulled him away, a smug smile on his lips. "You think you're funny, huh?" Your chest heaved. "Just couldn't resist," he said with feigned innocence. You clenched your jaw and leaned back.

Your back was against the dressing table, and your feet, previously resting next to his thighs, were now pressing against his bulging, aroused crotch. You pressed your heels into him, making him hiss, and rubbed them up and down with slight pressure. Cocking your head to the side, you asked, "Don't you think you were a little out of line just now?"

His eyes slightly shut, enjoying the sensation, he responded with a low hum. You pressed harder for an answer.

"I'm sorry," he admitted.

"But I don't feel like you're sorry, darling."

You halted your actions and slowly bunched the dress around your waist. "Use your teeth."

On your command, Wonwoo leaned in and bit the side hem of your thong as you raised your hips to slide it down your feet.

"Now, here's your chance for redemption. Make it like you mean it."

Without further ado, Wonwoo gripped the cushion in a vice grip and delved into your bundle of nerves, exploring every nook and corner with his tongue and small bites. Your hands grabbed his hair, and you pushed him further in, your labored breaths and gasps echoing in the room.

One of your legs hiked up on his shoulder. "Fuck… ahhh… Won… Wonuuu…"

He continued with an unforgiving pace, your hips automatically trying to ride his face. The familiar tension started building in your womb, and you threw your head back, jaw slack. Your body and senses succumbed to the pleasure as the orgasm finally consumed you, with chants of his name leaving your lips. You came down from your high, panting.

Wonwoo felt a surge of pride course through him. It was his name on your lips, and your release belonged to him. He had been a fool to let a petty thought ruin the mood, but now he understood the beauty of redemption.

After you finally calmed down, he looked up at you and said, "Am I forgiven, baby?"

You nodded and teased, "Can I touch you now?"

"That's not how you ask for permission, Wonu," you playfully chided, "Do I have to give you a special etiquette class?"

He shook his head in response and corrected himself, "Can I please touch you?"

"Yes, you may," you granted him permission.

Without a second thought, he sprang to his feet, pulling you up from your seat. He captured your lips in a feverish kiss as his hands reached for your zipper. The dress pooled at your feet, and your hands were busy undressing him. You threw his coat and belt aside, opened his shirt, and then dealt with his pants as his hands touched and groped every part of you.

He was throbbing painfully as your hands grabbed him, rubbing along his slit. He sat on the bed and pulled you to straddle his lap, raising your hips as you rubbed his head against your lips. You slowly descended down on his length, both of you moaning together. Your hips matched each other's pace as you rode him, and the pleasure was overwhelming.

Your hair was sticking to your back as you reached to gather it into a makeshift ponytail. The earrings and necklace were the only accessories adorning you. He groped and sucked on your nipples, rolling his tongue around them and grazing with his thumb while the other hand played with the other.

You reached your other hand down and gave his balls a squeeze, eliciting a loud moan from him. "FUCK, Y/N," he exclaimed as he looked up at you, an enticing sight for his eyes.

"Not so soon," you panted. But he was desperate and wanted more. You fiddled with his balls, letting go of your hair, and pushed him back onto the bed. You began to ride him vigorously.

Even in the midst of overwhelming pleasure, he couldn't close his eyes. Your hips picked up the pace, and your chests matched the rhythm. He couldn't tear his eyes away from your neck, which was adorned with the expensive necklace he had gifted you, worth every million.

Your hands gave him another squeeze, and his release shot up. "Will you cut me off again?" you commanded.

Wonwoo shook his head in desperation. "No, no, never, never," he declared, his hips chasing the final ropes of pleasure.

He reached for the back of your head and brought your lips to his, your chests pressed tightly against each other. His thrusts chased the climax. "You fuck me like this and then question why I get jealous when another man tries to come close to you? How would you feel if some other woman tried flirting with me?" He gasped against your lips, and you bit down on his lips, tasting a slight tinge of copper.

"That's just wishful thinking, darling," you retorted, "as if you'd even desire another woman after getting fucked by me." You clenched around him, his now softening dick, making him gasp as your pleasure overtook you.

Wonwoo couldn't help but agree, realizing that you couldn't be more right.

.........

.........

2 Months Later

You were sitting in the living area, waiting anxiously for Noel and Wonwoo to return from their baseball game with your father-in-law. The news you had learned that morning had your heart racing and your palms sweaty. You couldn't help but feel jittery as you waited.

Finally, Noel and Wonwoo walked in, and to your shock, they had a puppy with them. You looked at both of them with a puzzled expression, "What is this?"

Wonwoo appeared confused and asked, "What? This little furball?"

You huffed, "Yes, that golden retriever puppy."

"Oh, come on, Y/N, don't be like that. That's Noel," Wonwoo replied, trying to explain.

A chorus of "hey" came from the boy, who was now playing with the little golden retriever pup. You glared at Wonwoo, crossed your arms, and tilted your head to the side, clearly displeased.

Noel began, "On our way back, we saw a woman putting this puppy litter on the road. She was giving them away because her dog died while giving birth, and she couldn't raise them all alone. So she was giving them to whoever wanted to take them."

You scowled at Wonwoo and retorted, "You could have asked me first, you know."

He defended their decision, "Yeah, that would have ruined the surprise."

Wonwoo then took the pup in his hands and held it up in front of his face, using a fake cute voice, "Don't you think I'm cute?"

You looked down at Noel, who was giving you the same puppy-dog eyes as the actual puppy. He pleaded, "I promise I'll take care of him. I'll take him for walks, feed him on time, and even give him a bath, I promise."

Wonwoo chimed in, "He promised."

You sighed and continued to examine the dog, lowering yourself to its eye level. You extended your hand for it to smell, and it automatically started licking your hand. You looked up and inquired, "Did you at least get him checked by the vet and have him registered for vaccines and stuff?" Your tone was laced with a warning.

Wonwoo hesitated, avoiding eye contact, and a sense of guilt washed over him.

But before you could press further, Noel interjected with enthusiasm, "Of course, we did, Dad and I took him to the vet, and I've even named him."

"So, what did you name him?" You looked at Wonwoo and then at Noel, curiosity in your eyes.

Wonwoo began, "Well, I first suggested Tony, you know, after Tony Stark—"

"But then he kind of reminded me of Baden," Noel interrupted. The pup gave a yelp, as if responding, and Noel continued, "He liked it, see? He even responds to it. So I named him Baden."

You and Wonwoo exchanged a knowing glance. You had informed Noel about Baden's passing in an accident and had made sure his funeral was well taken care of. However, you refrained from attending, choosing instead to pay your respects a week later.

You gave Noel a tight smile and reached to take the dog from your husband's arms, raising him to your eye level. "So you are Baden," you mused. The little puppy wagged his tail and stuck out his tongue, letting out a small bark. "But I'm going to call him Denny," Noel innocently added. You silently approved, knowing that you'd likely be calling the dog's name at some point, and you didn't want to summon the spirit of Baden Bulavia inadvertently.

"Then welcome to the family, Baden. I hope you take good care of my son," you said to the puppy. As if understanding every word, the little dog turned his head to the side, listening intently.

With a nod of satisfaction, you sent Noel off to take a shower and asked Ahjumma to buy some milk and puppy diapers. You couldn't deny the cuteness of the new addition, but you had no intentions of cleaning up after his mess on your new carpets and bedding.

"Wonwoo, we need to talk," you said, your voice carrying the weight of seriousness. Wonwoo, who was in the middle of sharing details about the game, immediately stopped speaking. He could sense the gravity in your tone. Following your lead, he walked to his ground-floor office.

Upon entering, you closed the door behind you. adorned with rich mahogany bookshelves, stuffed with leather-bound books, and filled with the intoxicating scent of Paper and Tobacco. Files were meticulously arranged on the desk, and a sleek laptop sat at its center, the flickering screen casting a bluish glow on the polished wooden surface.

"Y/n, if it's about the dog, then I'm sorry. I know I should have informed you, but I couldn't say no to Noel and -"

Your heart was racing, and his rambling only made it worse. You fiddled with your wedding ring, taking quick breaths.

"…and I know you don't like surprises. If you want, then I guess I'll return it back."

"Wonwoo, I'm pregnant!" you blurted out in a quick breath.

As soon as the words left your mouth, all the rambling died in Wonwoo's throat. His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, and all the switches in his brain seemed to go off. The world slowed down around him, and anxious anticipation coursed through his veins. In a whispered tone, punctuating each word, he asked, "You are what?" His eyes widened, and his eyebrows almost touched his forehead.

"Well, for the past few days, I was feeling kinda queasy, and my periods were late. I went to the doctor earlier when you both were at the game because I wasn't sure, considering the uterine device…"

Wonwoo took a step towards you, and you continued, "The doctor ran some tests, and… I am four weeks pregnant."

You kept your gaze on your hands as you spoke. When you felt Wonwoo's hand on your shoulder, you raised your head to see him. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and your eyes welled up as well. "You are pregnant," he said, his voice trembling towards the end. "We are going to have a child, a baby."

A sense of doubt arose in his voice as he asked, "Are you unhappy?"

"Are you kidding me? I am the happiest man on Earth right now," he said and picked you up, spinning you around. You laughed and playfully slapped his shoulder. He halted his spinning to look into your eyes.

"We can't tell anyone, at least for the next two months."

"But—"

"No 'buts.' I just don't want to jinx it."

He looked a bit dejected but understood your point. "But we should at least tell the housekeeper to be extra careful and Noel that he's going to be an elder brother now."

A smile faded from your face, and Wonwoo gently put you down, cupping your face in his hands. "What's wrong?"

"It's just… I don't want other people's malice to affect Noel. You know how they talk behind our backs, and what if Noel feels neglected and hates it."

"My love, Noel is a very wise and smart boy who knows that no matter what, your love for him and his place in your heart will always be irreplaceable, okay?"

Bending down to your eye level, Wonwoo kissed your forehead and then your cheeks. "You have no idea how happy I feel right now. I can't wait to hold her."

You furrowed your brows and looked up at him. "How do you know it's a 'her'?"

"Call it a father's instinct," he said, and you rolled your eyes, letting out a sarcastic laugh. "Load of shit."

"What—" He laughed. "You don't believe me. You'll see. The way she managed to dodge the uterine device with her resilience and stubbornness, there are no other arguments but to think it's a girl. Just like her mother." You pinched his hip. "Ouch! Haha."

He embraced you tightly, taking a step back to hold your chin between his thumb, bending down, and getting lost in a heartfelt kiss.

.......

Later that night, after dinner, Wonwoo went and told the housekeeper and Noel's nanny that you were expecting and to be extra careful with you, not even allowing you to step into the kitchen. And signing off that if this information goes outside he will know who leaked it.

The room was painted in shades of red and gold, resembling an Iron Man theme room. Beddings, action figures, and toy cars lined the shelves, creating an exciting atmosphere. The door was left open, and Wonwoo leaned against it, watching as Noel sat on his bed, ready to sleep. He was reading a book to Denny, the pup, who sat on his stomach with a diaper on, listening attentively.

"Hey, bud, got a minute," Wonwoo called.

"Oh, Dad, come in," Noel responded, looking up from his book.

Wonwoo sat on the side of the bed near the bedside table and wrapped his arms around Noel's shoulder. The pup jumped onto Wonwoo's lap, and his hands instinctively started petting the soft fur.

"What are you reading there?" he asked, pointing to the book.

"The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse."

"Hmm, that's deep stuff," Wonwoo remarked.

"So did you have fun today?" he asked.

"Yeah, it was fun. By the way," Noel turned his body to face his dad, "does Grandpa get that excited about every match like that?"

Wonwoo snorted and said, "Pretty much, yeah. He used to be like that when I played in college."

"You played baseball in college?" Noel looked curious.

Wonwoo nodded. "Do you like any sports?" he asked.

"Well," Noel started, thinking for a moment, "I like horse riding, but baseball is cool too."

"Anything else?" Wonwoo suggested.

"Hmm, football. Uncle JJ told me that he and my father used to play football together sometimes."

"Football, huh? If you want, you can play too. JK is really into football. I'll ask him if he knows any good clubs."

"No, it's okay, my school has a team," Noel added.

"So, I wanted to talk to you about something," he cleared his throat and started. "Tante wants me to return Denny."

"What? No, she doesn't. The thing is, you're going to be an older brother."

"How?"

"Please don't make me give you a birds and bees talk right now; I am not prepared."

"Do you mean Tante is going to have a baby?"

"How do you know this?"

"We were taught in Moral and Physical Ed class about good touch and bad touch. They also told us how babies come in their mom's stomach."

Wonwoo felt it was best that he left this conversation to You. "Right."

"Yeah, when a man and a woman come together, and—"

"Got it, bud. Yes, we made a baby." Wonwoo cleared his throat at the end of the sentence.

"But I just wanted to talk about you being an older brother now. So, you're going to have a lot of responsibility and have to look out for your sibling and grow taller and stronger."

He closed his eyes and started again. "Noel," Wonwoo breathed. "There are going to be times when people's opinions grow a vicious voice in our heads and make you feel bad about yourself and other things. I just want you to know that even though we are not related by blood, you will always be a special part of our hearts. So, no matter what people say, you will always be our son. We will always love you, okay? So whenever you feel like that, you can come and talk to us, hmm?"

Wonwoo gave a reassuring squeeze on Noel's shoulder, and the boy wrapped his small arms around his ribs, hugging him and nodding against his chest. Wonwoo smiled and looked down, caressing his back, then kissed him on the top of his head. They realized they were almost squishing the pup between them when a small bark interrupted their moment. Parting, Wonwoo said, "I still think we should've gone with Noel Jr."

"DADDDD!!" Noel whined, making Wonwoo laugh. "Okay, okay."

........

........

In the cold, sterile jail visitor cell, Nikolia sat on one side of a thick glass partition, separated from his lawyer, who occupied the other side. They conversed through old, scratched telephones affixed to the wall.

Nikolia appeared unkempt and disheveled, with wild, devilish hair, dark eye bags, and an unruly beard. His wrists were encircled by handcuffs, a constant reminder of his current predicament.

“What do you mean my appeal got fucking canceled?” Nikolia growled, his frustration evident in his every word.

His lawyer, a man in his 50s with thinning hair, closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts before explaining, "It hasn't been canceled, Nikolia. It has been taken for further consideration."

“Then how much time will they need for consideration, huh? What do I feed you for? Fifteen years you've worked for me, and this is the best you could do, you pathetic fat pig.”

The lawyer sighed, realizing he had to tread carefully. “Nikolia, I understand your frustration, but you've been charged with four murders—three of your own family members—and other illegal arms trade activities. This led to the cancellation of our license as well. If that were not enough, you gave death threats to Jeon's daughter-in-law. They have everyone in their pockets.”

“I DON'T GIVE A FLYING FUCK WHO THAT BITCH HAS IN HER POCKETS. I AM NIKOLIA BULAVIA!! WHERE ARE THOSE PIMP-ASS FAMILIAS, HUH? DO THEY WANT ME TO OPEN MY MOUTH?”

The lawyer leaned closer, his voice hushed. “I'd suggest you keep your voice down and mouth shut about the Familia. They are already waiting for you to make a move so they can pull the trigger. If you want to stay alive, then stay put and mind your own business.”

Before Nikolia could unleash another tirade, the line emitted a beep, signaling the end of their call. An officer approached to escort Nikolia back to his cell, but he jerked his hand away defiantly, muttering, “I can walk on my own.”

The lawyer sighed heavily and went to sit in the waiting area. His phone suddenly rang, and his hands trembled as he glanced at the caller ID. Without wasting a second, he brought the phone to his ear.

"Yes, boss."

A deep, gravelly voice came from the other end, inquiring, "How was the meeting? How did that bastard look?"

"Very miserable, sir. He kept whining about how no one would help him, but he threatened to take the Familias down with him."

The man on the other end burst into a hearty laugh. "Let him suffer. That's what he gets when he underestimates the Knoxes. And if he makes even a slight squeak, you know what to do next, don't you?"

"Yes—yes, sir."

As the two men engaged in their conversation, a breaking news story flashed across the television screen.

"ACCORDING TO OUR WITNESSES, DURING THE PRIME MINISTER ELECTION, THE DEVELOPMENT MINISTER AND DAUGHTER-IN-LAW OF CANDIDATE LEE HYUN JOON, WIFE OF CONGRESSMAN LEE JOON SUK'S WIFE, ELEANOR LEE WHO WAS ACCOMPANYING HER FATHER-IN-LAW AND HUSBAND DURING THE RALLY WENT INTO LABOR A MONTH EARLY AND NOW HAS BEEN BLESSED WITH A BABY BOY," the news anchor reported.

The old woman nodded approvingly, her fingers interlaced in her lap. "Aigoo, such a considerate young lady," she mused.

The woman next to her, also engrossed in the broadcast, chimed in, "Their party has always been very family-oriented."

"You're right," the old woman replied, her voice filled with admiration. "They hold these values very dear. I guess he is a very promising candidate to vote for."

The two women continued to watch the news, their discussions about the Lee family, and their commitment to their political party.

.........

.........

3 Months later

The morning sun streamed into the lavish living room of your mansion, casting a warm and inviting glow. The day after Christmas had left remnants of the holiday festivities scattered all around. The majestic Christmas tree stood tall and proud, adorned with twinkling lights and ornaments, while the couch was strewn with colorful gift wrappers that had been torn apart in excitement.

You sat comfortably on the couch, legs tucked beneath a cozy blanket, taking in the cheerful chaos of the room. It was around 9 am, and beside you, Noel was still engrossed in unwrapping his birthday and Christmas gifts. This year was extra special as it marked your first Christmas after getting married, and it was also your beloved son's birthday.

You had decided to host a family gathering along with some of Noel's school friends, and the festive spirit lingered. However,. Jeonghan and Victor were celebrating the holidays with Victor's family, and Rachel was settling into her role as the new COO of Fareed in Switzerland.

Surprisingly, Jungkook had also missed the gathering. He had to rush to Zurich due to an emergency meeting with a client, leaving his mother inquisitive.

Noel continued to tear through the gift wrappers with enthusiasm, his excitement evident in the smile on his face. Amidst the chaos of wrapping paper, Denny was indulging in a game of peek-a-boo, occasionally popping out from beneath the torn remnants of gift wrap.

Despite your best efforts to keep your pregnancy a secret from family and friends, your husband Wonwoo seemed to be on high alert at all times. You weren't showing yet, and your choice of loose-fitting clothing helped maintain the illusion. However, subtlety appeared to be a foreign concept to him.

Wonwoo's protective nature was on full display, as he doggedly hovered around you, rarely venturing more than a few meters away. His concern for your well-being was unwavering, and he had a tendency to ask the same questions repeatedly. Whether it was inquiring about your comfort, worrying if someone was pressuring you to do something, or making sure you weren't on your feet too much, Wonwoo's vigilance, love, and care for you were unmistakable, even if his overprotectiveness sometimes bordered on comical.

During a conversation with Sunmi and your mother, Sunmi couldn't resist making a comment. "Have you gained weight?" she inquired, her eyes traveling up and down your figure.

You took a nonchalant sip of your hot chocolate, the smell of meat and eggs making your stomach churn. Even though these foods were essential for the baby's development, they had become almost unbearable. Wonwoo had made it his daily mission to ensure you ate at least one boiled egg before he left for work.

"Maybe I haven't checked," you responded with a hint of indifference.

Sunmi let go of the subject with a simple, "Hmm." However, your mother-in-law continued to eye you for the remainder of the evening, her eyes revealing a knowing glint. It felt like she knew your secret, and you couldn't help but think of her loose-lipped palm tree wannabe son.

"I'm going to tell them next week anyway," you thought, as you and Wonwoo had already confirmed the baby's health, assuring a healthy heartbeat.

Noel was over the moon with excitement ever since you'd shared the news with him. He would often come to the master bedroom to tell stories to the baby and inquire about its current fruit size. Sometimes, he'd fall asleep on your bed while Denny, who had become his inseparable companion, would curl up by your feet.

As Wonwoo entered the living room with two cups in his hands, he handed you the decaffeinated coffee. You offered your gratitude with a mumbled "Thank you, baby," and he leaned down to give you a quick peck on the lips. In a hushed tone, he whispered, "No worries, love," against your lips.

He then picked up Denny and settled down on the couch, the dog hopping from his lap to yours. Your nails naturally scratched the top of Denny's head while Noel nestled comfortably between the two of you.

"Noel, who's this from?" you asked as he was eagerly tearing into another gift.

"Nana and Pop's," he replied, his eyes filled with excitement as he managed the last rip of the wrapping paper. When he finally unveiled the gift, he exclaimed, "Cool, a hoverboard!" You and Wonwoo exchanged smiles. "Your parents will spoil him with gifts like these."

"My parents? Yours gave him a PS5 and a new tablet," you countered and smiled. When Noel asked, "Mom, can I go and try this out?" you felt a sudden shiver down your spine as if someone had paused you in the moment. "What—" you spluttered, "What did you just call me?"

"Mom," Noel looked a bit confused at your reaction. "Did you not like it? But Somi and my other friends said yesterday that since you're my godmother, I can call you 'Mom' too. I already call Dad 'Dad.' Should I not call you that?" His anxiousness peeked through his nonchalant tone.

Your eyes began to water as an overwhelming feeling washed over you. You set the cup aside and enveloped the boy in your arms. "Of course, you can, baby boy," you assured him, kissing the side of his head. "Go try the new gift." Noel eagerly unboxed the hoverboard and ran out, with Denny following closely behind. You shouted after him, "Don't forget to wear the protective gear! Mrs. Tham, please make sure he does that."

Your tearful eyes met Wonwoo's, and he approached, pulling you into his chest. "How are you feeling?" he asked, gently rubbing your arms in light traces.

"Not sure," you replied. "I feel happy as well as guilty. This was the third birthday without his parents. Every day he grows up, I'm grateful to witness it, but I feel bad that Noella and Joshua aren't able to. I hope wherever they are, they're proud of their boy. I still can't believe that he turned 8 yesterday."

Wonwoo didn't say anything, content in simply listening to you speak your heart.

He set his cup down and gently placed his hand on your now slightly protruding stomach. In the past, when you'd sleep together, his hands were wrapped around your waist or ribs. But now, he would sleep with his hand slipped under your t-shirt or nightdress, his palm resting on your stomach.

"I sometimes think about what would've happened if I'd let you walk out of the office that day," he began, his eyes slightly cloudy as he reminisced the moment.

"What do you conclude from it?" you asked.

"That I would curse myself until the day I die," he replied. He nudged you. "What about you?"

You tightened your grip around him and replied, "I don't know. I don't like to think of a future where you're not with me."

"My goodness, Mrs. Jeon, from where do you conjure these lines of flattery?" he teased. You looked up, your eyes finding his.

"A place different from where you get your corny ones," you retorted.

"Come on, they can't be that bad."

"Have you heard yourself when you speak, old man?"

"You make me sound like I'm ancient."

You just laughed and nuzzled your nose into his chest as he traced light circles on your stomach. Then, you mentioned, "Eleanor had a baby boy. People were talking about it yesterday."

"Yes, I heard. Good for her, I suppose," he replied.

"Hmm, maybe we should send them something."

"No need," he replied quickly, and you fell into a few minutes of silence. Then, you thought out loud, "Yesterday, I feel like your mother caught on to the pregnancy."

"How come? I was sure I was discreet about it." You moved out of his arms and looked at him with slightly raised brows. "Were you? Are you sure?"

"Okay, I may or may not have gone a little overboard with the concern," you confessed.

You moved closer and planted a kiss in the corner of his lips. "It's alright. We'll tell them on Saturday either way. I can't wait for the advice and Mama Bear mode overload."

Wonwoo laughed and leaned down to capture your lips in his. The pecks turned into kisses, and the kisses turned into a full-blown makeout session. Suddenly, Wonwoo got up from the couch.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

"Too many eyes," he replied, referring to the housekeeper and a staff member moving around in the kitchen, cleaning up the aftermath of yesterday's party. He then carried your bridal style to the master bedroom.

.........

.........

2 years later

Nestled in the outskirts of the city was nothing short of a luxurious paradise. It offered a 5-star experience, with its stunning landscapes that overlooked the entire city. The sprawling pool glistened under the sun, surrounded by lush greenery and pristine gardens, creating an atmosphere of opulence and relaxation.

The gathering was nothing short of grand, with everyone in attendance. The Jeon family, your own family, and all your dear friends had come together to celebrate a special occasion. Jeonghan and Victor joined the festivities, their newly adopted newborn son, Yuri, cradled in their arms.

As you looked at Noel, now a little older, you could see that he was growing more and more into his mother's features and his father's personality. His mischievous grin was reminiscent of the happiness Wonwoo had shown when the doctor revealed that you were expecting a daughter.

Iris, your little girl, was nestled comfortably in Wonwoo's arms. Her bright eyes held a sense of wonder as you held both of the children's hands. Together, you cut the ribbon to Oasis, marking the grand entrance to the celebration. The entrance was a perfect blend of grandeur and hospitality, adorned with an array of paintings representing different cultures.

As the gathering and welcoming ceremony continued inside the grand resort, you decided to take a quiet walk outside. You strolled along a serene pathway near a pond, where you noticed a duck entangled in some branches. Determined to help, you crossed a picturesque bridge and carefully reached out to free the distressed bird.

Lost, you didn't hear Wonwoo approaching. He found you engaged in a scene that felt oddly familiar – much like the first time he saw you. The duck pecked at your hand, and you assured it with a soothing voice, "Just a moment, I'm almost done." With a gentle touch, you managed to free the duck, watching it swim away to safety. As you took a step back, you collided with a sturdy chest, and when you looked up, your eyes met Wonwoo's warm gaze, accompanied by a contented smile.

"When did you get here? I didn't hear any noise," you asked, puzzled by his silent approach.

Wonwoo chuckled softly. "Well, some years ago, a little girl told me I should walk softly or else I might scare them."

Your eyes widened as he continued with a story from your past. "Then I asked her why she was helping them even if they were hurting her."

The girl, it appeared, had a wise reply. "Sometimes people who are hurt say or do harsh things because they don't know how to ask for help."

With realization dawning upon you, you gasped and covered your mouth. "You were that tall boy with the emo fringe haircut."

Wonwoo grinned and admitted, "Ouch, but yes, it was me."

The newfound knowledge left you surprised. "So the first time we met wasn't at my parents' place?"

He shook his head, confirming your suspicions. "And how long have you known this?"

"Since the moment I saw your picture on my desk," he replied, the affection in his eyes evident.

A gentle breeze ruffled your hair, and Wonwoo tucked a loose strand behind your ear. He then looked deep into your eyes and spoke from the heart, "I must have done something good in my life that lead me to you."

Moved by his words, you closed your eyes, savoring the warmth of his hand on yours, and let out a contented sigh. "You know, Wonwoo, if someone were to ask me today if I would endure everything all over again if it meant it would lead me to you and our kids, I would say yes a thousand times over. Because you made me believe that maybe I can be loved too, or maybe I was born just to be loved by you."

In the grand tapestry of the universe, where the stars align in intricate patterns and destinies are etched before birth, finding meaning in life's every task may indeed seem like an exercise in futility. But perhaps, it is precisely this realization that can bring a sense of contentment and gratitude for where life has led you at this moment.

You and Wonwoo found yourselves leaning in for a passionate kiss. Lost in the tender moment, you were suddenly interrupted by a cheerful voice.

"There they are," Jungkook's fiancee exclaimed as she approached you, cradling a crying Iris in her arms.

The baby girl was frantically looking for her parents, her babbles pleading for "mama, mama."

With a loving smile, you reached out to take Iris into your arms. "What's wrong, darling ?" Your soothing presence seemed to calm her, but she then began reaching for Wonwoo and switching to his arms with a happy cry of "dada."

With a smile on his face, Wonwoo gently took her into his arms, cradling her close. "Yes, my princess, Daddy is here," he whispered as she nuzzled her head into his neck. The tenderness between them was heartwarming, and Iris continued to babble about her brother, "El no playing."

Assuring her, Wonwoo replied, "El is not playing with you." He continued, "What is he doing?"Iris reached for her headband, as if her speech delay was due to it, and took it out, blinking at you. She threw it to the ground and finally said, "El, Denny, Somi."

"Denny, El, and Somi are playing together and not playing with you," Wonwoo telepathically reasoned with his daughter she nodded at energetically at her father’s comprehensive skills. "It's alright; Dada will play with you. Let's go meet Grandpa."

As he started to walk toward the waiting family, Wonwoo turned to you with a warm smile. He extended his hand, inviting you to join him. "Come on," he said. You took his hand, and together, you walked toward the gathering of loved ones.

Jungkook was engaged in a playful game of frisbee with the kids and Denny. He noticed your approach and waved, acknowledging his fiancee before turning his attention to you and Wonwoo. As you settled down with your family, you couldn't help but look around and bask in the contented atmosphere.

Tham took Iris into her care, where Yuri was playing. Your gaze met Jeonghan's across the space, and he raised his glass with a friendly salute, and you nodded in acknowledgment. He resumed his conversation with Joon-hee and her husband, and you turned to Jungkook's fiancee, who was standing next to you.

You struck up a conversation, asking her, "So, Rach, how's life?"

............................The End..................................................

EXTRA

Noella ascended the stairs, her thoughts meandering as Joshua was away at work. Her steps were reflective of her inner contemplation. When Noella was young, she had never understood why her parents, seemingly always fighting, and her mother, who seemed to resent her father's profession, didn't just leave. It wasn't until she reached the age of 27 that it all became clear. Sometimes, when people are in love, they can become incredibly selfish. So selfish, in fact, that they'll go to any lengths to hold onto their last vestige of hope in the harsh, unrelenting reality of life. Despite her physical resemblance to her mother, at the end of the day, she was her father's daughter, through and through.

She was deep in thought, musing over her own obliviousness to your hesitations, your puffy eyes, and your quiet demeanor when she and Joshua first started dating. Did Joshua know about her feelings or the feelings she once had for him?

Noella had been out drinking with Jeonghan, who had indulged a bit too much in alcohol. In the midst of his inebriation, he confessed that you had been in love with Joshua and proceeded to shed tears for you. It felt like her illusions were crumbling, and her beliefs were disintegrating into the vast expanse of life's infinite possibilities.

She was about to reach her room when a soft, heartwarming "Mama" halted her in her tracks. Warmth enveloped Noella's heart as she bent down and scooped up her 5-year-old son, asking, "What's wrong, honey boo?"

"I can't sleep," he pouted, nuzzling his head in the crook of her neck.

She rubbed his back gently as his small hands clung to his pillow and teddy bear. She asked, "Want to sleep with Mama tonight?" To which he nodded.

Noella entered her and Joshua's bedroom and laid down next to him, "Hey, El."

"Hmm?"

"Do you ever think that if you could have any power in the world, then what would it be?"

"I would love Flash's powers; he can run super fast, you know," Noel replied with a glint of admiration in his eyes.

Noella couldn't help but chuckle at his response. "Flash's powers, huh?"

When Noel turned the question back to her, "What about Mama?"

Noella looked at her son's curious eyes and then up at the ceiling. After a moment of contemplation, she replied, "Time travel."

"Wow, that's so cool, but why that?" Noel inquired.

Noella's thoughts were already racing, formulating an answer when, in the midst of her thoughts, she added with a tinge of melancholy, "There are a lot of regrets to undo."

"But wouldn't that change the future?" Noel asked with innocence.

"Maybe," she shrugged, "maybe that's why we can't travel back in time to fix things."

Noel's eyes were heavy with sleep as slumber finally claimed him. He mumbled, "Tante says that not everything needs fixing. Sometimes time and patience are the best friends, and everything works out for the best."

"My son, when did you become so smart, huh?" Noella whispered, her fingers gently caressing his forehead. She began to sing the lullaby her mother used to sing, a soothing melody that cradled her son into a peaceful slumber.

Que sera, sera

Whatever will be, will be

The future's not ours to see

Que sera, sera

What will be, will be

With Love,

MSH

XXX

[sitp-recs]

Hullo! I was wondering if you have any good recs for extremely magically inclined Draco or Harry? Or both? Like they exude badass, and they are in awe of each other. Maybe with a hint of morally grayness? I've ran through quite a few tags of the like and have deeply enjoyed them and was wondering if you had a few goodies.

Hi anon! I definitely got a few recs for you, some with morally gray characters as a treat 🙌

Powerful Harry:

Under Pressure by VivacissimoVoce (M, 21k)

Harry Potter has quit magic and left the wizarding world. Draco, a top-notch Tracker, has been hired to find him and save his life.

And One To Play by @tackytigerfic (E, 21k)

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are the best team in the Auror Department, even when they're driving Gawain Robards up the wall. When Malfoy is injured on a mission, it causes Harry's magic to go haywire. Meanwhile, a mysterious criminal is draining people's magical cores and turning them into Squibs.

If an Injury Is to Be Inflicted by @shealwaysreads (E, 45k)

Harry Potter disappeared a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, and with him went all hope for true change in magical Britain. Three years later, Draco indulges himself and attends his first Dog Fight—the infamous underground fights with no rules, no referee, and no points system bar blood on the floor. The game was simple: you win, or you die.

REVOLVEVLOVER by @firethesound and @lol-zeitgeistic (E, 46k)

The work Harry does is justifiable. It’s justice. He works for his country, and his country is a republic—the magical side, anyway. It’s not laudable work, it’s not work he’s proud of, but it’s necessary work. Harry has always taken the necessary jobs that no one else has the stomach for. It’s just that he’s never deciphered a kill sheet and seen Draco Malfoy’s name on it.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography.

A Sword Laid Aside by @korlaena (E, 128k)

When Draco’s cover is blown during a deep undercover operation and the Ministry is compromised, Ron takes Draco to the only safe place he can think of—Potter. Hiding out with a taciturn Harry Potter, who has been missing from the Wizarding World for almost two decades after a shocking fall from grace, is nothing like Draco thought it would be.

Powerful Draco:

check this hand 'cause I'm marvelous by @lqtraintracks (E, 8k)

Harry's had a crush on Malfoy for months now. But it will take a bar full of his friends, some Firewhisky, wagers made on his behalf, and Malfoy himself to get him to act on it.

you look so fine by michi_thekiller (E, 16k)

In which Draco is a Veela and Harry is his mate. Dark!Humor or Crack!Horror, you decide.

The Foxing Ring by @vukovich (E, 24k)

Harry's got no magic, one good ear, no great dating prospects, and a nice little wand workshop. Draco's got too much magic, a history of biting off ears, no great dating prospects, and a growing fondness for wandmakers. And a very fetching tail.

A Pocket Full of Stones by @amywaterwings (E, 68k)

A curse is spreading through the wizarding world, erasing memories of the war. Harry Potter is on the case! Where Draco is the DMLE’s most wanted dark wizard and Harry is the private investigator tasked with bringing him in. It goes as well as one might expect.

Threshold by @kbrick (E, 126k)

Unspeakable Draco Malfoy finally gets his chance to consult with the Auror Department when a series of mysterious doors covered in runic symbols appear all across the country, only to fade away minutes later. Draco’s eager to help solve the mystery of the doors until he’s partnered with Harry Potter, who still treats him like an enemy.

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound (E, 150k)

Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.

[astroselene]

no need for a hiding place

in which Sirius has to almost die before he realises he might deserve love, after all. pairing: sirius black x reader words: 1.5k tw: brief mention of blood, hospital setting a/n: because we all know sirius isn't really dead :)

-------------------------------------------------------- The hum from the machines attached to Sirius’s unconscious body was even as you dozed by his bed, your head propped on your arms. Between fits of restless sleep, you could hear nurses rushing down the corridors of St. Mungo’s and bits of conversation here and there outside Sirius’s room. It had been two days since you had faced the Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries, Sirius coming out barely alive and rushed straight to the hospital. You hadn’t left his side since.

You brain kept replaying the events from the scene of the intense battle, curses flying everywhere, sometimes not knowing whether you had hit a friend or foe. Then suddenly there’d been a rushing sound as a curse had flown past your ear, and you had watched with horror as it hit Sirius straight on his left side. It was like everything had happened in slow motion as he’d fallen to the ground. You were certain you had lost him as you fought your way to him, dread filling your heart as you took a look at him on the stone floor. There had been blood oozing out of a deep wound from his side and he was lying at an odd angle, looking like a rag doll.

All you’d been thinking when he fell to the ground in front of the veil that if he died now, you’d never forgive yourself for not telling him how you felt.

You squeezed his hand on the hospital bed, reminding yourself that he was fine and still here, as relief kept washing over you.

Joining the Order of the Phoenix a year ago, you of course knew who Sirius Black was. Like the rest of the wizarding world, you thought he had committed the murders he had been imprisoned for almost 15 years ago now. You had been recruited to the Order by an old school friend, burning at the chance to do your part to in the resistance against You Know Who. Thus, you were rolled into the ranks, first on the outskirts of the Order, moving towards the inner circles after proving your value for having a lot of useful connections in the muggle world. Your muggle job also made for a good cover for protecting yourself.

You had met Sirius Black at the headquarters, his childhood home, now knowing the truth about him. Against all your better judgement and the logic you prided yourself on, you had at some point come to the realisation that you’d fallen hopelessly in love with him. You had tried telling yourself he was not exactly the knight in shining armour of every girl’s dreams - he was practically prisoner in his old home, still a wanted criminal in the eyes of the law and most likely not in the mental headspace for any kind of romance.

Your heart didn’t seem to care about all of these logical trivialities though. Instead, you found yourself laughing at his witty remarks, looking for ways to get to know him better and spending increasingly more time at the headquarters. One day you noticed that between you two there had developed a feeling of mutual trust and respect, even admiration, at least on your part. Sirius confided in you about his hatred for having to stay in the house that represented everything he despised now. He told you funny tales from his school days, and talked with warmth about the Potters and his old friends, and with coldness about his family. He never talked about his days in Azkaban and you never asked. He seemed to respect the fact that you didn’t pressure him, and never judged him. You didn’t let your previous misconceptions about him get in the way of getting to know the real him – the brave, thoughtful and intelligent man you had fallen hard and fast for.

And you wondered whether he felt the same – sometimes you caught him looking at you when he thought you couldn’t see. At first, he’d been in a hurry to turn his eyes away when you caught him, but lately something had changed. He maintained eye contact, even sought your eyes out with his own when there was an inside joke to be shared in the middle of a general conversation, and you could’ve sworn you kept seeing a playful glint in his deep grey eyes, reserved just for you. But you always told yourself you were imagining things because of your own feelings and naïve wishes.

Your fitful sleep was interrupted by a brush of fingers on your cheek. You slowly opened your eyes to see Sirius watching you through half lidded eyes.

“Hey you,” Sirius said. His voice sounded a little croaky.

“Sirius!” you gasped, feeling a rush of blood to your head for sitting up so quickly.

“Are you alright? How are you feeling?”

You brushed Sirius’s hair away from his face. It had gotten longer again during his months at Grimmauld Place. He kept talking about cutting it but you loved how it framed his high cheekbones and the way he had to keep tucking it behind his ears.

“I’m alright,” Sirius said quietly. He frowned, “What happened? At the ministry, I was about to....“ he focused in the distance, trying to gather pieces of memories from his muddled brain.

“Everyone’s fine, Harry’s safe. The prophecy was destroyed,” you soothed him. “You got the worst of it. You’ve been out cold for two days.”

Sirus’s shoulders sagged with relief. He looked back up at you and you felt his fingers on your cheek again.

“What about you? Are you alright?” His voice was gentle.

“I’m okay. Now that you’re awake anyway,” you smiled at him.

Your fingers were still in his hair and you stopped breathing at the look on his face. He was so close, smiling a tired smile up at you.

“I should get the healer,” you said. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” Sirius grabbed your arm, “have you been here the whole time?”

You felt heat rise on your cheeks. You weren’t actually sure he had wanted you there while he was unconscious, but you’d found you couldn’t leave his side either, not until you knew he was going to be okay. You were fidgeting with a loose piece of thread on Sirius’s bedsheet, your mind already going into overdrive, instinctually preparing for rejection.

“Well… yeah. I may have had to tell them I was your girlfriend, they wouldn’t have let me stay otherwise. ‘Family and close relations only’”, you huffed out an awkward laugh, “I’m sorry I said that, I shouldn’t have, I’m obviously not your girlfriend or anything, I just needed to…” you trailed off. “I just needed to know you were okay.”

You felt Sirius’s finger under your chin and he lifted your face to search your eyes with his.

“Would you like to be?” he asked quietly.

You blinked and thought your mouth must’ve been hanging open too, while you searched for your suddenly lost skill for speech.

“Would you like that?” you asked incredulously.

“Yes,” he said simply, like it was a no-brainer.

And it really wasn’t, not to him. He had known for a long time how he felt for you, but not fully admitting it to himself. His heart squeezed at the thought of you sitting by his bed for the past days, waiting for him to wake up, being always so sweet to him, so kind and caring. He knew what little he had to offer in his situation wasn’t what you deserved, but seeing your eyes light up at his answer, your beautiful smile breaking out, made him believe that maybe it was possible for him to have happiness after all.

You sat up closer to Sirius, taking his handsome face in your hands. You leaned in and touched his lips softly with your own, and at that moment you knew all the worry of the past few days and months had been worth it, all your previous heartbreaks and hurts were soothed out right in that moment. You knew Sirius was what you had been waiting for.

Sirius moved his hand at the back of your head and pulled your face against his more insistently. He kissed you with determination, like a man on a mission to show all of his buried feelings for you in that moment. His tongue brushed your lower lip and you gasped, opening your mouth to get more of his taste, more of his kisses, more of him.

Sirius leaned back but only far enough to press his forehead against yours.

“Blimey,” he barked out a laugh, “haven’t done that in ages.”

You laughed with him against his lips. “Gotta make up for lost time then,” you said.

He pecked your lips and hummed, but it turned into a small wince when he shifted on the bed.

“Hey, stay still, I’ll get the healer. I have to let them know you’re awake,” you said, worried now. You didn’t want him tearing up his stitches. The wound had been closed magically but it wouldn’t keep if he kept moving a lot.

“Whatever you say, ma’am,” Sirius winked at you.

You reluctantly moved away from him, but now you knew he wasn’t going anywhere. He was going to spend the rest of his life showing you exactly how he felt, no longer needing to hide from anything or anyone.

[disappearinginq]

I feel like people are sleeping on the awesomeness that is Sister Boniface Mysteries. I think it's considered "cozy murder mysteries" which is just a weird genre to have, but it's a spinoff of Father Brown in the 60's in the Cotswolds of England. I'm not usually a murder mystery fan, they're mostly just 'eh' for me - neither good or bad, just there to have in the background. But I love Sister Boniface for several reasons (which I will admit bias to)

The police are actually happy to have her around. The main DI will find an excuse to pull her into any case they have, and the entire police force love her and will almost always follow her advice/lead, unlike 90% of other mystery shows where the police are always either one step off from bad guys or just can't be bothered.

It shows the wide diversity of women who find their way to a convent. The nuns make wine. They wind up on cooking shows. They host an episode of a really hokey Austin Powers type TV series. They guest star on a children's show being filmed at the church. They love being a part of the cases when they get roped in. The Mother Superior is a cranky Irish lady who is like a beleagured mom who has more luck herding cats than keeping the Sisters out of cases, but she also has a favorite fish in the pond that she feeds, and loves babies and new parents and bends over backwards to help people and lets Sister Boniface blow up the basement with her experiments on a regular basis.

Sister Boniface herself. She was a translator in WW2, she has the equivalent of a masters in chemistry and is the police department's Go To forensics. She has a vivid imagination that borders on cartoonish when imagining the crime and how it could've happened. She rides a motorcycle. She is like 5 feet tall and spicy. The basement of the church has been converted into her own laboratory where she tinkers and futzes at all hours as long as it doesn't interfere with her church duties.

THE SISTER AND THE INSPECTOR ARE BESTIES WHO CRACK TERRIBLE PUNS OVER CRIME SCENES. No, really, there's an entire youtube video of every scene where these two idiots (affectionate) are cracking the absolutely WORST puns related to the crime. Sam Gillespie is the DI and he doesn't seem to actually enjoy the police part of policing, but really likes the community outreach part. He's a WWII vet that was at the battle of Normandy, took heavy losses, got bayoneted (which is brought up in one episode), and as soon as a crime has been committed, he calls in Sister Boniface. There is zero romantic interest between them, she is like his actual sister, and they are absolute enablers for each other's shenanigans, and it is hilarious.

There are no bad characters.

[arliedraws]

Whatever the Cost (AO3)

Summary: Sirius Black did not die during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. He has been held prisoner and faces the cost of remaining loyal to those he loves. Meanwhile, Harry has mourned his godfather for nearly a year until he receives a warning that his godfather still lives and he’d better hurry up and find him before Sirius is gone for good.

Haha, I haven’t written whump like this since uhhhhhh college? I feel very normal about this. Again, not the flavor I usually cook with, but I guess enjoy? I think it’ll be around three chapters total. Some warnings—it’s got old fashioned torture, some stabbing, y’know, more psychological than anything, but I don’t think I’m as imaginative as Bellatrix Lestrange…

—

“It’s very easy, Sirius,” Bellatrix purred. She pulled his limp body into her lap and propped his lolling head back against her shoulder so he could feel the hot breath in his ear. “You don’t even need to apologize. Don’t you want the pain to stop?”

Sirius could not have spoken even if he wanted to.

“He doesn’t trust you, Sirius,” she said. Sirius sank into the warmth of her body. “He thinks you’re weak. Poor little Harry thinks you need to be rescued. Isn’t this all his fault? If only he could see you for who you really are. Look at you—so defiant, so strong. Auntie Wally was so proud of you…”

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hello! I love the recommendations you've done so far.

I was hoping if you could provide me with some recommendations for AU Destiel Detective fics?

Thank you so much. Keep up the good work!

hey! Thank you, here are a few:

A Beginner's Guide to Communing with the Dead by suspiciousflashlight [Mature, 77k words]

Maybe it's the little girl whose disappearance turned into a murder, and whose murder turned into a cold case, and who has now apparently decided to move in with him. Maybe it's the unacceptable hole left in his life when his dumb best friend and partner in (the prevention of) crime decided to go and get himself killed. Maybe it's his brother, whose high-profile career and fantastic girlfriend and first-child-on-the-way are steadily leaving Dean in the dust. Pick one. Pick all of them. The why doesn't matter so much as the what, and the what is this: Dean is pretty sure he's going completely, certifiably insane. Sure, he hasn't started wearing all his clothes inside out, and he still showers on a regular basis (anyways, that's not crazy, just a little eccentric); but there's no getting around the fact that he just threw away his life, his career, and his reputation by dragging out his mom's old necromancy book and summoning a Class A Forbidden Entity to his attic. A cranky one, too. With horrendous bed-head.

As The Sparrow by hubrisandwax [Explicit, 18k words]

It’s 1947. Dean is an ex-marine fighting crime and a very different sort of war to the one he faced in the Pacific as a detective on the streets of LA. This city isn’t all the glitz and glamor it’s made out to be, however, and Dean finds himself tugged in to a world of life-threatening unknowns when Daphne Novak’s body is discovered. Castiel Novak, her husband, was one of Dean’s battalion mates in the war, and he's just as deadly and dangerous as he was two years ago when he saved Dean’s life during the Battle of Okinawa. Except now he’s wanted for his wife’s murder, and Dean just doesn’t believe Cas is capable of that. Is Cas really who he says he is, though? And what will Dean have to sacrifice in order to repay the debt he feels he owes?

Casicorn by everandanon [Explicit, 56k words]

When Detective Dean Winchester suddenly finds himself with a new roommate, a mysterious man who doesn’t speak but seems to somehow be connected to the department’s recent vigilante problem, he has no idea what he’s in for. The guy doesn’t know how to work a TV, brush his teeth, or even take a shower, and he stares at Dean all the goddamn time. Not to mention he insists on sleeping in Dean’s bed. While Dean is in it! Weird, right? Except the longer Cas sticks around, the less Dean starts to mind; the more he kind of dreads Cas leaving for good, actually, even though nobody really knows who Cas is or where he came from. And then, one night, Dean happens to witness their vigilante firsthand and realizes he knows Cas even less than he thought . . . (Loosely inspired by The Little Mermaid)

Chronicles Of A Serial Killer by Duckyboos [Explicit, 52k words]

Dean Winchester has the perfect apple pie life with his shy-but-sweet boyfriend in the suburbs. He has a steady, well-paid job with the LAPD and he’s charming and attractive. Really, he’s living the American Dream. It’s his extra-curricular activities that some may disagree with, as he’s also an accomplished serial killer. To date, his kills amount to around 36 and he’s never been caught. He’s employed by the law, remember? He knows how these things work.

Grounds for Murder by cinderellasleftshoe, sarcasticbones [Explicit, 199k words]

"The weirdos in that coffee shop are always dancing, or playing 'strip Clue,' whatever that is. Once there were sock puppets, and, I'm not kidding, a cookie trebuchet." "Eyeliner?" "Really, Dean? That's all you got out of all of that. That there's maybe a bangable emo guy over there?" Dean shrugged and took another too-large bite of his sandwich. He'd been a detective with the Phoenix PD Violent Crimes bureau for three years, and he'd see a lot stranger things than sock puppets, old ladies, and strip Clue.

like a thief in the night by kingdumbass [Mature, 28k words]

Plagued by nightmares since the death of his mother as a small child, Dean Winchester is no stranger to grief. After the sudden death of his brother and the unexplainable disappearance of Sam’s fiancee Jessica leave Dean reeling, the former detective turns towards alcohol to cope with the loss, but when the news of another missing peron’s case all the way out in Pontiac, Illinois jogs Dean’s memory of an old unsolved case with possible connections to the mysterious note his brother left behind, he feels compelled to pick up where he left off. Though once he rolls into town, he encounters more questions than answers. Namely: what’s real and what’s delusion? And how is the creature from his nightmares tormenting the residents of this small, suburban town?

The Trouble With Blue Eyes by FriendofCarlotta [Explicit, 14k words]

For years now, Dean Winchester has had a mutually beneficial arrangement with Castiel Novak, a fellow private eye. It’s good, it’s easy, and there’s nothing wrong with it. Well, except for one thing: Dean’s caught himself a bad case of feelings, and Cas doesn’t feel the same way.

What Once Was Sacred by saltandbyrne [Explicit, 55k words]

Los Angeles detective Dean Winchester works tirelessly to atone for the sins of his father one case at a time. When his best friend Charlie drags him to visit Sam at his new job, Dean stumbles onto a bizarre string of deaths that brings him uncomfortably close to his past. Dean can't stop thinking about Castiel, an enigmatic DJ who plays the sexiest music Dean's ever heard. A chance encounter at Castiel's house reveals that Castiel is an incubus, and Dean must face the lies and the reality of his childhood as a hunter. Dean comes to see that he and Castiel have more in common than he thought, and that guilt can be the hardest thing to cast aside.

You can also check our law enforcement!castiel and law enforcement!dean for more. Also worth mentioning the DestielNoirBang as a future source.

[osiris-iii-bc]

Primo Emeritus: Florence.

This is the first of my posts where I locate each Papa in Italian cities based on the occult influences/history of each city. I hope you find it interesting and useful!

Primo | Secondo | Terzo

Primo Emeritus, The Old One, the embodiment of all that is sacred. A personality like his deserves to be located in an ancient city full of art, poetry, and history, shaped by the esoteric and alchemical obsessions of the Medici family, amidst the enduring shadow of centuries-old Satanic cults.

Let’s see why I have chosen Florence for Primo.

In this chapel of ritual…

From the early 70s to the late 80s, a series of murders occurred in various regions of middle-north Italy, with the most infamous taking place in Tuscany, known as the case of the 'Monster of Florence' (Mostro di Firenze), which resulted in the deaths of 14 people - officially, but it is believed there were way more.

The theory is that these murders were part of a large network of Satanic rituals involving influential figures from Rome, Perugia, and Florence. This network is supposedly still active. The original cult allegedly responsible for initiating these rituals seems to be the 'Rosa rossa' (Red Rose) cult. 

A fertile ground for writing Ritual...

2. The creator of Hell.

Florence is the birthplace of Dante Alighieri, the renowned author of the Divine Comedy and the creator of the now canonical structure of Hell.

Primo could have had many more things in common with Dante than we expect: indeed, it is said that Alighieri was part of an esoteric cult named ‘Fedeli d’Amore’ (Loyals to Love), probably affiliated with the Templars. From there, Dante is said to have drawn inspiration for his symbolic and esoteric tales, as well as his passion for numbers.

Keep an eye on Dante, as he will eventually come back in the next chapters.

3. The ghost behind the open window.

It’s not a Ghost story without an actual ghost.

In Piazza Santissima Annunziata, there is a building, Palazzo Grifoni, that holds a mysterious detail: a window that remains open at all times, whether day or night, summer or winter. Legend has it that a woman of the Grifone family bid farewell from that window to her lover, likely Ferdinando I, who departed for war. She waited for him by that same open window throughout her life, but he never returned, dying in battle. When she passed away, the window was finally closed. However, soon after, numerous mysterious events happened in the building, to the point the residents concluded that the building was haunted by the ghost of the woman, and they have kept the window open ever since not to upset her.

But that's not all: the Ferdinando I statue placed in the square, has his face turned to look right to that window… At the very end, he finally came back to her.

4. The Boboli alchemical garden.

Boboli represents a very particular case of an alchemical garden conceived to be ‘accessible’ only to those who have a strong alchemical and esoteric knowledge. It is built as a symbolic route where you can contemplate the principles of magical and alchemical doctrine along the way. You’ll be welcomed by two fountains, placed one on top of the other: the Mose’s (it is an indoor fountain) and the Carciofo’s (artichoke). They are believed to represent the esoteric concept of “as above so below”, but the references to esoteric concepts are present along the whole garden.

Primo would have surely loved this place.

[pepsichrry]

Theo Nott Headcannons/Information

Information:

•Theo was mentioned in the Harry Potter books (The Philosopher’s Stone, Order of the Phoenix).

•He is only referred to as ‘Nott’ during the sorting ceremony in book 1.

•He isn’t mentioned until book 5 as one of the only three students in the Care of Magical Creatures class who are able to see Thestrals, meaning that he had witnessed somebody die. He supposedly found it unpleasant as he watched one eat and he wasn’t fond of the creatures.

•His appearances in the books are described as ‘weedy’ and ‘stringy’ meaning that he is likely canonically tall and thinly built.

•It is unclear when he is born, but it is said that his father was an older or elderly man who had been previously involved with the Deatheater Army during the First Wizarding War.

•Theodore was mentioned by Hermione in 1996 as one of the group of Slytherin boys whose fathers had been outed as Deatheaters by the magazine ‘The Quibbler’. His reaction seemed to differ from his friends as his reaction was the only one which was not specifically threatening or negative, suggesting indifference.

•At the end of his Fifth Year, Theodore Nott Sr. was captured in the Department of Mysteries as a member of Deatheater forces who participated in a raid of the Department and was exposed as an escaped Deatheater.

•With his father in Azkaban and his mother seemingly dead, it is unspecified who cared for Theodore during the summer holidays.

•In sixth year, Theodore was not asked to attend the Slug Club due to his fathers involvement with the Dark Lord, this is because of Professor Slughorns inquiry about Theo’s family from Blaine Zabini, who was later invited to the Club.

•Theodore was one of the few students who progressed to N.E.W.T level Potions. They seemed to poke fun of Hermiones Blood-Status and were skeptical of the effects of Amorentia.

•He attended his Seventh year at Hogwarts and was treated well due to his Blood Status.

•At the Battle of Hogwarts, it is unclear whether he joined Voldemorts side or Evacuated, but since he is not shown or mentioned defecting to the Deatheaters before the Battle, we can assume that he didn’t end up fighting with the Deatheaters.

•It is also mentioned that he was later taken into custody for owning illegal Timeturners. We can infer from this that he could possibly have made them with dark magic, or he bought them for a hefty price. (Said in TCC, so possibly not Canon).

•Theo is mentioned to be very intelligent, but more of a Loner, since he didn’t participate in many groups like the one led by Draco Malfoy.

Headcannons:

•Theodore watched his mother die when he was young, leaving him in the sole care of his father, who was a cold and bitter man.

•Theo didn’t have many friends when he was younger except for Draco Malfoy, but he opened up slightly more at Hogwarts, though he still liked his alone time.

•He had a set path for him created by his father. He was supposed to work in the ministry and provide for a family, but Theo wanted to be a Potioneer like his uncle and much of his other family on his mother’s side.

•Theo’s mother left all of her belongings to him, and made sure that his father wouldn’t be able to take possession of any of it. In his inheritance, he gained a large portion of money and an estate in rural Italy.

•His mother was from Florence, Italy and was married to his father through an arranged marriage, where she suffered abuse from Theodore Nott Sr. She died slowly due to a failed suicide attempt.

•Theodore had trouble connecting with people because of his parent’s relationship and the things that he’d witnessed in his childhood. He feared becoming his father more than anything, so he did all that he could to prevent it from happening.

•He’d never had a real relationship and never would despite how many girls he’d slept with. He didn’t want a commitment.

•Despite how quiet he was, Theo was a very funny person and to his friends, he was often the life of the party

•Theo was prone to addiction and often used unhealthy coping mechanisms like smoking, drinking and drug use, though he only took drugs at parties.

•Much like Draco, Theo took the Dark Mark as a punishment for his father’s mistakes, not out of willingness. He received it a week after his fifteenth birthday and struggled to adjust.

•He was 6’2” feet tall

•He tanned very nicely in the summer, leaving him with smooth, olive skin just like his mother’s.

•During the Battle of Hogwarts, Theo ran away with Blaise Zabini, purely because he wanted to avoid fighting people that he’d previously called friends.

•As his life went on, Theo learned from his mistakes and prejudices and slowly but surely became a better person. He was clean by the time he was 20.

•As a request from the Dark Lord, Theo created a Timeturner for him. But since he’d learned how to do it, he created more and gifted one to the Malfoy Family and kept one for himself. He didn’t use it to change the past, but he’d travel back to his old house to watch his past, specifically, to watch his mother, trying to piece together parts of her life and his. It was the only way of truly knowing and remembering her because he was so young when she died.

•Theo died before he turned 30, ending the Nott family line. He’d died alone after taking his own life to avoid being sent to Azkaban for his possession of illegal Timeturners.

•He lived a life of longing for love without receiving it. Secretly, he wished for a loving relationship and a family, but he didn’t want to repeat the cycle of abuse that he was trapped in. He felt that his family line didn’t deserve to be continued, he felt that he was atoning for their sins by ending it.