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chatonne-rousse · 3 years

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Great Minds (and Kind Hearts) Think Alike

Written as a gift for my sweet friend @sketchy-panda to celebrate a bunch of happy things in her life, as well as just because she's awesome. Inspired by this adorable piece of her art.

During a rooftop discussion about superhero merch while relaxing after patrol, Ladybug and Chat Noir each decide to share their favorite items with their partner. What results is an impromptu gift exchange that just might open the door to a whole lot more.

Read it on Ao3 here.

"My parents put us on the Christmas tree last year, Kitty! I had to see myself in the living room every day."

He bumps her shoulder with his. "And me, apparently."

"Yes, but your ornament was cute!" She flails her arms comically and he tries not to focus too much on the fact that she called his likeness cute. "Mine didn't even look like me."

"Would you have liked it better if it had?"

"That's not what I..." Ladybug scowls, but there's no real heat in her expression or her voice. "It was just weird."

"No, the baby onesie that I saw on an actual baby that said 'Meow, My Lady' was weird," Chat mutters. "I didn't even know any civilians had ever heard me say that."

Ladybug's surprised laughter rings out across the rooftop they're perched on tonight, loud enough to be heard from any nearby open window until she muffles the sound with her hand over her mouth. "And whose fault is that, you tomcat?" she asks through her remaining giggles.

He tries to pout, but her laughter is contagious and his smile breaks through. He chooses to ignore the jab at his vain attempts at flirting. Wooing is difficult business.

"The baby was cute, though. I had to take a picture with him."

"You had to?"

He shrugs. "That's a very small request, Bugaboo. I've encountered way worse. A few pictures? I don't mind."

She stares at him for a long moment, something unreadable in her gaze, before looking back over the horizon. "Have you ever bought any Chat Noir merch? You strike me as the kind of guy to have a bookshelf full of action figures."

He is the kind of guy to have a bookshelf full of action figures, and he definitely does, but he thinks of the drawer in his closet that's full of red and black, reminders of his beloved partner. There are far fewer items in black and green.

"I...have a few things. The action figures of us are really cool, actually. Didn't you always want to be immortalized in plastic as a kid?"

"Can't say I did, Minou." She bumps his shoulder this time. "I'll bet you had your supersuit all planned in your head already, didn't you?"

Not quite, but only because he never imagined himself as a cat-themed superhero. He has no intention of ever divulging the fact that his first real transformation sequence was anything but random. That secret is between him and Plagg, and he's not telling. Plagg probably will, but that's a problem for future Adrien.

She laughs again. "I'll take your silence as a 'yes'."

"I'll have you know, My Lady, that I have a carefully curated display of collectibles that are very valuable. And no, this—" he gestures from his cat ears to his steel toes, "was all spontaneous. Can't help it if I've got cat class and I've got cat style."

Ladybug shoots him a deadpan look that dissolves into giggles once more when he wiggles his eyebrows.

Success. He loves to hear his partner laugh, loves to make to his partner laugh. These are moments he wouldn't trade for the world.

"Well," she finally says after her laugher subsides, "the Chat Noir doll I saw in the market did not have cat style, so I made my own."

"Really?" His voice is soft with wonder.

"Yep! And a Ladybug doll, too." She casts him a sidelong grin. "They're a duo, you know. I couldn't have Chat without his Lady, could I?"

He wills himself not to cry. It takes three blinks and one shaky breath before he can respond. "You made them? Yourself?"

"Sure. It's not hard. All it takes is felt and thread and buttons for eyes. They're simple, but—" she shrugs, "I think they're pretty cute."

"Wow," he breathes. "You really are amazing, Bugaboo. They sound incredible."

His Lady seems to amaze him anew with each revelation she allows. He could count on one hand the things he knows about her, really knows, and those facts are tucked away and treasured. She's a whiz at video games. She babysits. She has a loving family. She listens to Jagged Stone. She loves animals.

"Thank you, Minou," she says softly, as the barest hint of a blush spreads to her cheeks beneath her mask.

His heart beats a little faster. His tongue feels heavier. He falls just a tiny bit more in love with her.

Ladybug fills the silence again. "Better than mass-produced action figures, for sure. More cuddle-able!"

That startles a laugh from him. "Is that a word?"

"It is now." She shrugs, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"I'm telling you, Bug, those action figures are cool. I can't believe you don't have a set."

"Guess I need to go shopping."

"Yup," he responds with a decisive nod.

When they make eye contact, it sets off another giggle fit, Ladybug's shoulders shaking with mirth and Chat having to wipe the tears from his eyes. It's not even that funny, but it doesn't have to be.

Paris is quiet tonight, and his heart is light as he relaxes against the rooftop and laughs with his best friend.

*****

Four days later, when they meet up for patrol again, Chat Noir is surprised when his partner joins him carrying a gift-wrapped box. Especially since he himself is hiding a gift bag behind his back.

He sweeps into a bow as she approaches, straightening with an exaggerated wink. "Something for me-ow?"

Her expression morphs into one of longsuffering annoyance. "Well, it was, but I'm reconsidering."

"You wouldn't!" He gasps, one hand clutching his chest over his heart.

Her lips twitch into the beginning of a smile and soon the stillness of the nighttime rooftop is broken by their shared laughter again.

"For you, Chaton," she finally says with a grin, holding out the box.

He produces the gift bag from behind his back and presents it to her, the tissue paper fluttering in the night air. Her eyes widen with delight, and his heart sings.

The handoff is a quiet affair, a hushed silence of surprise settling over the moment as they sit cross-legged, facing each other.

Even the box is beautiful, he notes, wrapped in shiny black paper and adorned by a giant bow of vivid green with black paw prints. He knows, of course, what's in the bag she's holding in her hands. Could this box contain...? He doesn't dare to dream.

He looks up and nods at the bag. "Go ahead, Bug."

The tissue paper rustles as she removes it, trapping it under her foot to keep it from drifting away on the breeze. She takes one look inside, sees the label on the top of the box within, and bursts into laughter. "You didn't!"

Chat grins. "I did."

She pulls out the box to take a closer look. There are several options when it comes to Ladybug and Chat Noir collectible figurines, but this one is his particular favorite. They're sold separately, but he's always been partial to the 1st Anniversary Special Partners Edition, boxed together as a pair and made to wield his baton in his left hand and her yo-yo in her right, leaving them free to hold hands in the middle. Which the figurines' hands are molded to do, and how they're currently posed in the box. They can also stand alone, but there's just something special about the fact that joined hands are an option.

"Okay, Kitty, you were right. They really are cool." She points at the Ladybug figure. "This looks so much better than that Christmas ornament!" Squinting at the box to examine his figurine, she suddenly snorts a laugh. "Your hair looks like a bunch of bananas!"

"Hey!" He pouts, but he knows she's right. When he bought his own set last year, Plagg had made the same observation and laughed so hard he nearly choked on his cheese. He then proceeded to call him Bananoir for days, until Adrien threatened him with a month of Velveeta. The ribbing didn't really bother him that much - honestly, he had to concede the resemblance - because it was an action figure...of himself. No matter how many were produced, that fact would never not be incredible, and no amount of banana hair or cat god snark could diminish his excitement.

"Oh, Chaton, I'm just teasing. I love them." She beams at him, cradling the box with both hands. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, LB. I just...I thought it would be fun."

"Great minds think alike, it seems. Your turn!"

He glances down at the box in his lap and back at his partner. Her smile is bright, but her eyes betray a nervous anticipation.

"Bug, you know I'm going to love whatever this is, right?"

"I hope so. I made them myself."

His heart in his throat, he carefully slips the ribbon from the box and slices the paper with his claws. He can barely breathe as he lifts the lid.

His hunch (his dream) is confirmed when he finally sees the contents of the box. Nestled in a bed of tissue paper, side by side, are two handmade plush dolls, opposite in configuration to the action figures but with their soft little hands touching in the center just the same. Tears spring to his eyes unbidden, and he wipes them away quickly, partially out of embarrassment but mostly because he wants to see every detail with clarity.

The seams are pristine, the limbs symmetrical; the dolls are simple, but crafted with a skilled, sure hand. He picks up the Ladybug doll first, lifting it reverently from the box. Red felt with carefully-painted black spots form the doll's body, and her little black button eyes gaze up at him from a matching spotted mask. A sweet smile is the only other adornment on her face, but the doll is perfect without anything else. This is his beloved partner, created by his beloved partner herself. That alone is perfection to him.

He returns the Ladybug doll to the box and shifts his attention to his own likeness, resolutely ignoring the lump in his throat.

Equal in craftsmanship, the felt Chat Noir in his hands smiles the same sweet smile and looks at him with shiny button eyes from a black domino mask. Perched on his blond felt hair are two black cat ears, and a real bell is sewn at his neck. He gives the doll a gentle shake and the golden bell rings with a jaunty jingle. It's adorable.

Chat Noir is helpless to the grin that lights his face, looking up from the doll to his partner just in time to see that same joy reflected back in her own dawning smile. Warmth suffuses his chest, elation and love and an overwhelming gratefulness bursting firework-bright and making his breath catch.

He has never received such a heartfelt gift in his life. This eclipses the fine blue cashmere scarf his father gave him on his fourteenth birthday, folded in his closet and placed where he can see it every day. It's a treasure to him, and it always will be. But this, handmade just for him with obvious care by the person he loves most in the world? Nothing could come close.

"I don't know what to say, LB," he begins once he can finally speak, "They're...they're amazing. Adorable. Perfect." He takes a deep breath. "I'm fumbling this, but...thank you isn't enough."

Ladybug reaches out to place her hand on his knee. Even through two supersuits, the contact sends a shiver up his spine. Her expression is one of warm relief, clearly pleased with his reaction. "Thank you is more than enough, Kitty. It was nothing."

"Nothing?" he splutters. "These are far from nothing!"

"Oh, Minou," she laughs. "I meant that it was my pleasure. It wasn't difficult, but even if it was, you're worth it."

Do. Not. Cry. He thinks. He's been fighting tears since she handed him the box. Once he gets home, he's absolutely going to give in and sob while clutching them to his chest. He's man enough to admit that...to himself.

He takes several deep breaths and swallows against the lump in his throat as he arranges the dolls back in their tissue paper nest, making sure their hands are touching before replacing the lid on the box.

"Thank you, Ladybug," he says softly. "I love them. Us."

She pats the box still held on her lap. "And I love this version of us, too. Thank you for making sure I have the coolest action figures in Paris." After placing the box and the tissue paper back inside the gift bag, Ladybug stands and offers her hand to Chat to help him up. "Now, let's go stow these treasures and patrol. Last one to Sacre-Cœur has to buy the other an ice cream cone."

Still clutching the gift box under one arm, he watches her throw out her yo-yo to snag a distant chimney before she zips off with a giggle. He grins, shakes his head, and reaches behind him for his baton.

"That's my bug," he murmurs to himself, before setting off for home to secure the gift safely.

In a few minutes he'll rejoin his partner in a merry chase across the rooftops. He hopes the night remains quiet.

Chat Noir can't wait to buy ice cream for his Lady.

#love you sketchy!#ladynoir #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #ml fanfiction #my writing

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neakco · 3 years

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When I Found You Bonus (3)

Original 1st 2nd Ao3

The classes reaction to Marinette leaving school in a helicopter.

Again no beta. Apologies.

Class Chaos

Alya stared after the ascending helicopter “What the hell just happened?”

“I think Marinette was just picked up by some dude in pjs in a helicopter.” Nino helpfully responded, just as shocked and open-mouthed as everyone else.

Max stared, “That was a top of the line Wayne helicopter, there are only two of those in existence.”

“Seriously?” Alix whistled, “Dude must be loaded to have someone fly him around in one if those.”

Juleka mumbled something and Rose repeated it when she realized no one else heard. “So who owns the two helicopters?”

“Bruce Wayne and Batman.” Kim answered. When everyone looked at him he looked guilty, “I thought they were cool okay. They are the fastest helicopters in existence.”

The rest of the school had already left and it was just their class hanging around now. Nathanial pulled out his book and started to sketch the helicopter. If Batman had one then maybe he could use it for a cameo in the comic.

“There is no way that Marinette is friends with the Wayne’s.” Lila complained.

“There is a 89%chance that she is, while only a 10% chance that that was one of the vigilantes out of costume. 1% that the vehicle was stolen.” Max helpfully added.

Adrien laughed as he left with Plagg. He knew there was only one helicopter. He really hoped Marinette enjoyed her time with the bats. Maybe if he asked nicely she could portal him over for a night of training. If he could get away from his father. It was hard enough getting away for dates with Kagami.

Lila started talking about knock off versions of the helicopter but was shut down by Alix, “Who cares if that was a knock off? Whoever her friend is still showed up to grab her in a freaking helicopter.”

“Yeah dude, and can you imagine if that really was a Wayne? Like they are probably taking her all the way to America.” Nino squirmed with excitement. “Do you think she can grab me some music and films?”

Alya was busy sending message after message to Marinette.

‘Was that a Wayne?’ ‘Girl you have to get me an interview when you return?” ‘Are you dating a Wayne? Is that why none of us knew about him?’

Surprisingly she got a response,

‘that’s his business, no, he's my gay bestie, and it never came up. My phone won’t work in america, I will talk when I get back.’

Alya tuned back into the conversation around her and saw that only Alix, Max, Nathanial, Lila, Kim and Nino were left. The others had all left to start their vacation.

Lila was in tears and arguing with Max, Alix and Kim were observing with curiosity, Nathanial was still drawing and Nino was waiting patiently for her to finish so they could leave.

“You ready to go babe?”

Alya took one last look around. “Yeah, Mari said she will tell me all about it when she gets back.”

“Why are you so sure it wasn’t a Wayne?” Max finally asked after arguing with Lila over the chance of it being stolen.

“Because it is Marinette.” Lila sniffed, “”She is a baker’s daughter, how would she even meet them?”

Alix started cackling and had to hold on to Kim so she wouldn’t fall over. “Seriously? You are asking how Nette would meet a Wayne?”

Lila glared but Alix kept laughing.

Finally Markov answered, “Marinette is known to design for Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale. She has an uncle that is a famous chef and her parents own the top rated bakery in Paris. The chances of her running into a Wayne casually is about 30% The chance of someone introducing her to a Wayne is also 30%. The chance of the Waynes being in town for business and going to the bakery is 20%.”

“So there was an 80% chance of Marinette meeting a Wayne?” Kim asked.

“Affirmative.” Max smiled.

Lila’s mouth was hanging open slightly.

“She has also won a few of Gabriel Agreste's design contests and had her designs featured.” Alix smirked, finally done cackling.

Before Lila could respond Alix's phone dinged.

“Okay guys my dad is here now, you ready to go?”

Max and Kim nodded and headed toward the entrance with her.

Lila was left alone since Nathanial had disappeared. She muttered angrily under her breath as she too left the school.

Taglist: @novemberandmay

Again, blame comments on AO3 for the addition. If enough people want to see a particular scene and I have an idea of what is happening then I will probably write it, or at least try.

#maribat #miraculous class #not really salty

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a-blue-secret · 3 years

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CHAPTER XIII

BACK TO MASTERLIST

Chapter XII | Chapter XIII | Chapter XIV

GENRES: royal au; fantasy au; magic au; friends-to-enemies-to-lovers; king!beomgyu, vizier!taehyun

PAIRING: taegyu

WARNINGS: swearing

WORD COUNT: 4.8k+

AN: Beomgyu's been a bit ia these past few chapters, but here he is! Fun fact: all of his outfits mentioned are real! 1st one is from 191116, 2nd the iconic 200104, and 3rd from the unforgettable 190801 :)

SUMMARY: Best friends turned enemies, Kang Taehyun has managed to trick Choi Beomgyu into his service, and to rule for a year and a day, until his youngest brother would be old enough to take the throne. Choi Beomgyu has no intention of being obedient however, and tries to thwart Taehyun’s orders at every turn. With a growing amount of distrust and lies within the court, will Taehyun manage to keep the kingdom of Gojongja from falling apart?

"Ah finally, I'm free!" Beomgyu cried aloud, flinging his arms out wide. "I'm free!" He spun around, skipping down the lane happily.

Seojung and Jisung followed behind silently, watching as the King skipped through the grasses, long coat flapping behind him.

"Sir, we are here to see your house and nothing more."

Beomgyu waved a hand carelessly back at Jisung. "Yes yes, I know that. I only really want to see my house."

The two guards looked at each other. Beomgyu laughed delightedly, stopping to reach up and smell a branch of cherry blossoms. He rushed forward excitedly, and motioned towards the guards to hurry up.

"Come on! Around this corner we can see the back of my house!" He gave a small giggle and disappeared around the corner.

Seojung and Jisung couldn't help but smile at Beomgyu's antics, following him from behind.

Beomgyu had snuck out (well, not exactly snuck out– just left without telling anyone) of the palace to see his house that he'd left behind. Since the tension between the court and the citizens was still present, he and his guards had taken a carriage up to a certain point, and walked the rest of the way down an abandoned country lane. It was alright for Beomgyu, though: he liked the time outside surrounded by nature. Standing in the middle of a field, breathing in the fresh air (and maybe making a pensive wind swirl around him, coat whipping majestically – he can't help his flair for dramatic scenes, even if no one is around to witness them) was wonderful.

Beomgyu stood outside his front door, heels clicking together cheerfully. He flourished the house key he’d taken with him from his chambers back at the palace, and slotted it inside the keyhole. Pushing open the door, Beomgyu let out a sigh of happiness as he stepped into the familiar hallway.

“Long time no see, eh?” he smiled to himself, taking in the details.

The cottage had barely changed. Beomgyu rushed into the front room, and beamed as he took in the ivory curtains, round glasses resting on a side table next to a half-filled cup of tea, and the comfortable velvet armchair which was always stuffed with too many cushions. Peering into the dining room, he smiled as he saw a dinner mat was still set at the table, an empty glass by its side. The kitchen still had clean plates stacked up by the sink, waiting to be put away. He walked into the living room, running his fingers along the dusty bookshelves, packed with novels and biographies which he’d leafed through millions of times. He rubbed a hand over the worn leather of the sofa, rested his cheek on his softest cushion, breathed in the comforting scent of his humble cottage. He sat back into the sofa, smiling contentedly up at the plain white ceiling.

“This. I’ve missed this.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Beomgyu hummed as he put the plates back into the cupboard. He’d just finished dusting the cottage from top to bottom, and had just tidied away the teacup and plates. Walking back to the living room, he scanned all the titles on his bookshelf absentmindedly.

“Ooh-” he gently dislodged a book, looking at the title. Beomgyu chuckled to himself. “Looks like I stole this from the palace. This is one of the books that the scholars use to teach us about clans.” He opened the book and began flipping through the pages. “Oh wait- it looks like there are pages missing?”

Beomgyu ran his fingers along the jagged edges between two pages, which indicated that some had been torn out. “That wasn’t me… I wonder who took them out.” He shrugged, putting the book back. “Oh well. It’s no big deal.”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Inside his room, Beomgyu was going through his wardrobe.

“Oh, Choi Beomgyu, what were you thinking?” Beomgyu tutted, staring at one of his old suits. It was a beige blazer with pale blue accents, paired with a pale blue button-down and a navy and brown tie. He twisted his lips disapprovingly. “I suppose it doesn’t look too bad, but the colours just don’t go together! Bleh. I’d never wear something like this now.” He put down the offending suit, tucking it far away into the corner of his wardrobe.

“Oh, I remember wearing this,” Beomgyu smiled as he pulled out another outfit. This one was a pure white button-down with white pants and a silky cloak-like overcoat. The cloak came up to his hip and had white fur trim along the hood and top half. It even had a diamond clasp. “Wait, do I still have the wand to go with this?” He set down the clothes, and rummaged around his drawers, before pulling out a silver stick. “Aha! I do!” He laughed, setting down the ‘wand’ beside the outfit. “Wow, I didn’t even know I kept the outfit from that Christmas party. I might take it with me to the palace: it’s nice.”

Beomgyu came out of his room and yelled down the stairs. “Seojung, Jisung! I’m gonna leave some clothes by this door! Come back here some other time with the carriage and bring them to the palace, okay?” Then he retreated into his room to look through more of his clothes.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

“Wow, this is nice.” Carefully, Beomgyu extracted the delicate piece of clothing from its protective cloth, staring at it. It was a black button-up, stitched with white and silver stars. It still had its cufflinks in as well: five-pointed diamante stars. The design was simple. When Beomgyu twisted the shirt, the silver stitching caught the light, making it sparkle. “When did I wear this?” The faint smile on the corner of his lips died as he remembered. “Oh. Jieon’s… Jieon’s funeral.” He carefully put the button-up back into its protective cloth, putting it back in his wardrobe.

Suddenly, he didn’t feel too into looking through his closet anymore. Beomgyu put back all the suits he’d taken out and opened the door again.

“Let’s go back.”

As he was stepping outside, Beomgyu noticed that the ground was rather damp. He looked back at the guards. “Did it rain?”

Both of them nodded silently. Beomgyu groaned.

“Oh no, this means we can’t go back down the way we came! The mud will ruin my shoes!” Beomgyu sighed. “Come on, we’ll have to go through the town way.”

“I- sir, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Beomgyu pursed his lips stubbornly. “I am not getting these shoes dirty.”

The two guards shared a glance.

“Very well,” Jisung said. “But it’ll be more difficult to get to the carriage.”

Beomgyu pfft-ed, waving a hand. “It can’t be that difficult. The carriage is in a place that’s easy to get to. We’ll be fine. Now, come on!”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

He wandered out into a more bustling street. As he was constantly pushed aside by hassled citizens, Beomgyu reflected that maybe walking was a bad idea. At least no one was really paying attention to him…

He was just wondering how far he had left to go to get to the carriage, when he realised that his guards had disappeared. He spun round, searching for Seojung and the other guy. Nowhere to be found. Frowning, he stood up on tiptoe, straining to look for any sight of them. He was all alone. In a strange street.

It was then that a chill crept over him. It was inexplainable: it was so terrifying and yet compelling at the same time. The feeling kept building up, causing him to feel colder, and colder, and he started to shake. Suddenly, a finger tapped his shoulder. Beomgyu spun around, panicked, and almost ran into a noble who stood right behind him. Looking up from the blue satin coat in front of him, Beomgyu relaxed. It was a noble he recognised- Lord Soobin.

Soobin widened his brown eyes and bowed. "Lord Beom- Your Greatness! What are you doing around here?"

"Oh, uh… just wanted to see how my citizens are doing!" he said brightly. "In a bit of an incognito, get-into-the-scene kind of way."

"Ah, I see," Soobin said, nodding. He watched as Beomgyu glanced around a few times, picking up on how distracted the royal was. "Um… don’t take this the wrong way, but… would you happen to be lost?"

Beomgyu chuckled awkwardly. "I think I may be," he said. "I seem to have lost my guards." He looked around again. "Yep. Definitely lost them."

"Well, it is not right for a monarch to be left undefended," Soobin said. "Would it suit you to perhaps take refuge in my home? I can send word to the palace that you are there, and then you can wait in my home until more guards arrive to take you back to court."

"Oh, if that's alright with you?" Beomgyu asked. "I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Oh, it's no intrusion if the King himself were to enter my humble abode," Soobin laughed. "My carriage is just a few streets away. Would you care to come?" Beomgyu scanned the streets again, in case his guards miraculously appeared.

"I gladly accept your offer," Beomgyu said, when it was clear that Seojung and Jisung were not there.

"Right this way, Your Greatness."

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Once the carriage pulled up into the gravel drive of Soobin's estate, the coachman opened the door for them before hurrying up to the front door to inform the butler to let Soobin in.

When the butler let them inside, Beomgyu whistled.

"'Humble abode'? Soobin, this is an extravagant abode. My, some of these decorations rival that of those in the palace."

Soobin chuckled. "Many thanks, Your Greatness. I have always had a taste for grandeur."

Beomgyu eyed the ceiling, which had elegant swirls engraved into its stone. He caught sight of the golden chandelier, which also had intricate designs along it's candelabras. "Evidently," he murmured. "How do you… how…"

"How can I afford this?" Soobin supplied. He carried on talking as they followed a footman into one of the tea rooms. "My family has a great inheritance. Also, I make money by creating flowers. If you look out of that window, you can see one of my greenhouses out in the garden."

Beomgyu leaned over, staring at the glass building. "Wow," he said. "I suppose one-of-a-kind flowers fetch a high price?"

"Indeed they do," Soobin said. "Tea or coffee?"

"Oh, I'm fine, thank you," Beomgyu said, waving away the attendant. He stared out of the window silently as Soobin calmly sipped his cup of tea. Soobin’s home was so pristine and perfect. It was like it was carved out of pure white marble, painted with the most lustrous gold, decorated with only the finest and most intricate hand. It was almost as if Soobin was the King with the lavish palace, and Beomgyu was the humble noble that had been invited for tea. Beomgyu couldn’t help but marvel at how wondrous it all was.

“Ah, yes,” Soobin said, setting down his cup. He beckoned over one of the footmen who stood outside the door to the room. “Send word to the palace that King Beomgyu is currently safe within my estate. Tell them to bring guards to Lord Soobin’s manor to come find the King.” The footman nodded, before scurrying off. The two of them sat in silence. Beomgyu glanced at the lord. He knew Soobin well enough; the two of them had been acquaintances when Beomgyu was still in court. Beomgyu, because of his faintly royal status, had been a higher noble than practically everyone else, so he’d talked to all of the lords before. Lord Soobin was a rank below him, so they had been reasonably amiable associates. However, he didn’t know the elder well enough to know which clan he came from, or even what his surname was.

“So…” Beomgyu tried, in an attempt to break the silence. “Um… How does it feel having such a young King as your monarch?”

Soobin looked at him. “Hm… well, at first it was a little odd. Everyone found it a little odd. We were expecting one of the Kangs to take the throne, after all, and yet it turned out to be a whole new clan. But if you think about it, had everything gone as the late King Seohu had planned, we would have had an eight year old on the throne.” Soobin leaned back, chuckling. “Now that would be even more odd than having a King who is a mere year younger than me.”

Beomgyu cracked a small grin. “I suppose it would be.” He frowned a little, thinking about the day. Remembering the sense of betrayal and anger he’d felt towards Taehyun. He remembered how his fury seemed to crackle within him. He also remembered the pure fear in Taehyun’s eyes when he growled at him after the Crown Handing. He deserved it, Beomgyu thought fiercely. He deserved all those harsh words, after everything he’s put me through.

Soobin suddenly laid his hand on top of Beomgyu’s where it rested on the table. He seemed to have mistook Beomgyu’s silence as being a troubled one. “It’s okay,” he said. “There is no need to worry. It’s why you made Kang Taehyun your vizier, isn’t it? His knowledge is incredible. He will help you navigate through your reign in the steadiest, smoothest way possible.”

“Thank you,” Beomgyu said, smiling weakly.

“Ah!” Soobin pushed a delicate ceramic plate of cakes towards Beomgyu. “Would you care to try some? They are infused with the essence of my very own flowers.”

Beomgyu looked at the small golden sponges. Each of them had gentle, purple-blue bruises of what must have been the flower essence. He was just about to reply when the footman knocked on the doorframe.

“Sir,” the man panted, bowing at Soobin and then Beomgyu. “The– the guards are here to take the King back to the palace.”

“Thank you,” Soobin said. “Well! It was nice finally talking to you again, Beomgyu. Ah, I mean Your Greatness. Gosh, it seems like only yesterday you were simply Lord Beomgyu. Oh, would you care to take the cakes back to the palace to try? It seems a shame to let them go to waste.”

Beomgyu felt there was no other answer he could give. “Of course, Lord Soobin. If you wouldn’t mind packaging them so they are fit for travel?”

A servant immediately stepped forward, taking the plate and putting it within a small basket, before bowing low and handing it to Beomgyu. He took it, and turned to Soobin.

“Well, I suppose I will be going then,” he said. “It was nice conversing with you, Lord Soobin. Thank you for briefly accommodating me as well.”

Soobin inclined his head. “It was my pleasure.”

Beomgyu stepped out of Soobin’s estate, walking up to a glowering Chan.

“Oh, so you’re coming to collect me?” Beomgyu asked curiously. “Where are Seojung and Jisung?”

Chan still continued to glare at Beomgyu.

“What?” he said. He spread his arms wide and gave a spin, showing his unharmed self from all angles. “Look, I’m not hurt. Nothing happened to me.”

Chan eyed him suspiciously. “Last time you said that, you’d managed to stab yourself in the finger,” he said. “Remember?”

Beomgyu sighed. “Are you really going to bring that up every day for the rest of my life? I told you, the knife fell. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Sure it wasn’t. And I am going to mention it every day, because this happened literally two days after you made me your personal guard.”

“I made you my personal guard because you were the only one out of all of them who I knew, and Taehyun made me choose someone. Also because you were like the most skilled out of all of them. But anyway, I promise that nothing went bad. I’m not injured. I didn’t accidentally fall on my own sword, and Soobin didn’t forcefeed me any poison. Seriously, this trip went fine.”

“If you say so, sire.”

“Yes, I do say so. Come on, let’s go back. Did you bring a carriage with you?”

.・゜-: ✧ :-

“Sir Taehyun, one of King Beomgyu’s guards are here to see you.”

Taehyun opened his door. “Oh Jisung. What’s Beomgyu done now?”

“Disappeared,” Jisung managed to force out, out of breath. “He- King Beomgyu- disappeared- there one minute- gone the next- we looked but- the King- gone-”

“Woah, catch your breath first,” Taehyun interrupted. “I can’t understand anything you’re saying.”

“King Beomgyu vanished. He- he wanted to see his old cottage,” Jisung panted. “When we were coming back, it had been raining and he didn’t want his shoes to get dirty by going on the obscure, mud path we’d taken, so we went through the town. And he- he disappeared. Uh, Sir Taehyun-?”

Taehyun’s eyes had grown wide in alarm and he’d stood up, running out of his room. Jisung hurried to catch up with him.

“Keep talking!” Taehyun called back to the guard. “How did he go missing?”

“I- I don’t know! It was a busy crowd, but the King- he’s taller than average so we could still see him. But su- suddenly he wasn’t there. In the literal blink of an eye, he’d dis- disappeared. It didn’t make sense!”

Taehyun let out a frustrated cry. “That stupid Beomgyu! Why would he go out?”

“Sir- Sir Taehyun? Where are you going?”

“My horse!” Taehyun yelled over his shoulder to Jisung. “I need to go find him!”

“Sir!” A messenger almost ran into Taehyun.

“Not now!” Taehyun brushed past the messenger. “I’m busy!”

The messenger stared helplessly as Taehyun ran past him. Then, he saw Jisung approach and turned to the guard. “Sir! I am a messenger from Lord Soobin’s estate! His Highness, King Beomgyu, is safe within Lord Soobin’s home. He requests someone to be sent to come escort the King back to the palace.”

Jisung widened his eyes and thanked the messenger, before renewing his chase after the vizier.

“Sir Taehyun!” he cried.

“What is it? Jisung I told you, I’m busy!”

“Beomgyu’s safe! He’s in Lord Soobin’s estate!”

“What?” Taehyun yelled. He’d turned the corner and almost tripped over his own feet in his haste. “What did you say?”

“Lord Soobin! Beomgyu’s with him!”

In his frazzled, panicked state, it took a while for Taehyun to register the guard’s words, but once he did, he visibly calmed. “Lord Soobin? He should be safe.” Almost instantly, his face darkened again. “Why the fuck he thought it’d be a good idea to step foot outside the palace, I have no idea…” He looked back at Jisung, who was still running up to Taehyun. He clicked his fingers at the guard. “Fetch Chan! Tell him to go to Lord Soobin’s estate to pick up King Beomgyu!”

Seamlessly, Jisung spun around on one foot and began sprinting back the way he’d come, going to inform Beomgyu’s other personal guard.

Taehyun watched Jisung retreat, and began storming to the front gates. Beomgyu had a lot to answer for.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

As the carriage drew up to the palace gates, Beomgyu’s stomach dropped. Shit. Taehyun was standing on the steps, arms crossed.

Beomgyu opened the door and stepped out onto the pebbled driveway, walking up to the vizier. Taehyun glowered at him.

“Just what,” he said, “just what do you think you were doing?”

Beomgyu sighed. For some reason he felt inexplicably weary. “Look, it’s not my fault I lost them okay? They should have protected me better.”

Taehyun’s fingernails dug into his arm. “How can you lose two guards? Just how? How is that even possible? They’re trained to be able to follow you no matter what. How can you lose them?”

“I don’t know, okay?” Beomgyu said, annoyed. Suddenly, all the tension dropped from his face and he rubbed his forehead with his hand. “Fine. I’m sorry. I should have been more responsible. But can we just… can we not do this? I don’t have the strength to.”

Indeed, now that Taehyun looked closer, Beomgyu didn’t look too great. It was practically the first time he’d seen Beomgyu in three weeks, and the King certainly did look rather tired and wan. And so, Taehyun relented. “Alright. But there’s something we need to talk about. Come on.”

Beomgyu gestured weakly. “Can I at least wash first?”

Taehyun looked at him. “Go on. I’ll be in the Meeting Hall.”

While the vizier strode away, back ramrod straight, Beomgyu slumped up the steps to the palace. Visiting his cottage had taken an emotional toll on him, a toll which was even more tiring than a physical one. Still, he dragged himself through the palace, wanting to get that meeting with Taehyun over and done with so he could go to sleep.

.・゜-: ✧ :-

Beomgyu sat himself down in the chair at the head of the table. Taehyun was already seated in the chair to the left of the head, arms crossed.

“So what do you want?” Beomgyu asked.

“Glad to see you’ve finally come out of hibernation,” Taehyun remarked. “I feared that I wouldn’t remember what you looked like.”

Beomgyu snorted sarcastically. “Sure you did.”

“Why did you go out anyway? You know the people are mad about the thing that you caused. Just why would you do that? It’s dangerous, it’s unsafe, if someone saw you and recognised you then–”

“I was homesick, okay?” Beomgyu interrupted. “I was homesick. This palace…” he gestured around at all the marble and gold. “This isn’t my home. It’s my accommodation. It’s the place I sleep and eat and live in, but it’s just not my home. It’s too large and cold and filled with judgy people. And I missed it. My cottage. My true home. My small cottage at the edge of the town, decorated with flowers and away from any accusing eyes. The little house I bought with my own money which I purposefully picked because it was far away from this hellhole. I wanted to get away from here, regardless of the dangers. I needed to get away from here.”

Taehyun frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. Here, you are well-fed and well-dressed and have all sorts of luxuries. Why would you want to go back to a run-down cottage far away from people?”

Beomgyu chuckled, looking down. “Right. You’ve lived here your whole life. You wouldn’t understand.” He looked up at Taehyun. “Just because I am fed and dressed and can sleep here doesn’t make it my home. I don’t fit in within the cold, marble structures of the court. It’s why I left.”

“I still don’t get it, but it doesn’t matter.” Taehyun crossed his arms. “Would you care to explain why you’ve been avoiding all of your duties for the past three- no, three and a half weeks?”

Beomgyu rubbed his forehead tiredly. “I didn’t want to do them. That’s it. That’s the only reason. The Lords had pissed me off, and the amount of things that needed to be taken care of…” His voice trailed off. “I just couldn't do it.”

That made Taehyun flare up. Beomgyu had only been thinking about himself! “Well what about me, hm? While you neglected your duties, who do you think had to step in and take on the tasks themselves? Who do you think had to go through all the things that you couldn’t be bothered to do, in addition to his own duties he needed to complete?”

Beomgyu’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, I– I completely forgot. Taehyun, oh god, I’m so sorry. I forgot that you’d have to do that for me. Wow, I… that was so selfish of me. I’m sorry.”

“You should be. Do you know how stressful it was to manage the court while you disappeared into your chambers? Do you know how hard it was to fend off any suspicious Lords, who were curious about where you’d gone?”

Beomgyu put his head facedown on the table. “Please, stop making me feel so guilty. I’m sorry, okay? I completely forgot.” He lifted his head to the side a little and spotted a basket sitting atop the wooden table. It was the basket filled with the cakes he'd gotten from Soobin. He must have unconsciously carried it with him into the Meeting Hall. Beomgyu lifted his hand and pushed the basket towards Taehyun. “Here,” he said. “My apology.” Taehyun looked at it suspiciously. “They’re just cakes,” Beomgyu sighed, sitting up. “I wouldn’t poison you.”

Taehyun reached forward to take the basket, lifting up the cloth. He pulled out the plate on which two, small cake slices still sat. Bringing the plate close to his face, Taehyun eyed the cakes.

They were of a cuboid-ish shape, and were a healthy yellow. The softness of the sponge’s colour contrasted with the purplish, bluish, bruise-like patterns embedded into the cake. He smelt the cake, still a little wary, but was pleasantly surprised to find they smelt like normal cakes. Beomgyu smiled bemusedly at the vizier’s antics. Taehyun looked at the cakes one last time. Then he shrugged. Eh, whatever. He popped a whole cake slice into his mouth.

Beomgyu had propped his chin up on his hand. “Nice?”

Taehyun nodded grudgingly, already lifting up the second cake. “Yeah. It’s nice.”

“Good to hear. Is… is it a good enough apology for you?”

Taehyun looked up, cheeks full of cake, and nodded.

“That’s good. No matter what you think, I don’t actually want to be hated by you, you know.”

Taehyun nodded absent-mindedly, chewing on the third slice of cake. Beomgyu smiled, endeared, as he noticed some crumbs on the corner of Taehyun’s mouth. He leaned forward and gently rubbed them away.

And just like that, something in the atmosphere shifted. Taehyun stared at him, eyes wide. He was suddenly hyper aware of Beomgyu’s gentle touch, the way his fingers grazed his cheek, and the way he was looking at him.

“You had a little something on your cheek,” Beomgyu said quietly. His eyes were suddenly incredibly soft, and he stared at Taehyun with such an indecipherable gaze. Taehyun’s ears grew uncomfortably warm and he moved away, out of reach of Beomgyu’s hands. Beomgyu quickly snapped back into his normal state, snatching his hand away. He coughed, sitting back in his seat.

Taehyun touched the corners of his mouth, now more than a little self-conscious. He didn’t know why his ears were suddenly burning up from that simple touch. He glanced at Beomgyu, and found he was staring at his own hand with a dazed look, as if he wasn’t sure about what he’d just done. But then, he coughed again, shifting in his seat. Taehyun quickly looked away. The silence dragged on between them for some time longer, before Taehyun finally spoke.

“Anyway, so are you going to come back?”

“Hm?”

“Are you coming back to court?” Taehyun said. “You know, coming back into your role as King.”

“Oh…” Beomgyu sighed. “I probably have to.”

“Good. There are some things which I need to talk to you about.”

“Can we talk about them some other time?” Beomgyu asked.

“What? No. I need to tell you as soon as possible.”

“Come on, can’t it wait?”

Taehyun frowned, and Beomgyu quickly carried on speaking before he could interrupt. “Please. I haven’t recovered from the revel. I know, I know. It's practically been a month now. I know. Call me weak, call me pathetic. But… being told I’m not good enough, and that I’m a fraud, it just…” Beomgyu clutched his hands to his chest. “That really hurt. It really, really hurt.”

He brought his hands into his lap, looking down at his clenched fists. “Also, I just came back from a really emotional experience. I saw my old house again, I went outside again. Lots of memories came flooding back to me, and I need time to process. Also, I almost became lost. That in itself is a traumatic experience.”

Beomgyu sighed, playing with his fingers.. “Going back, seeing my house… I was reminded of the times I was really happy, the times when I could be free, and be myself, within my small cottage. I was content.But I also remembered the underlying sadness which haunted everything I did– the fact that I’d had to leave you. It broke my heart, did you know that? Because you and I... we were so close, and even if we'd parted on bad terms, it still hurt me to leave you. It was like I was leaving a part of myself, and even if sadness wasn't the predominant emotion, it was still there. But then, I was also reminded of the fact that you didn’t object to me leaving, and even accepted it. In those few hours I was at my cottage today, I went through about hundred and one emotions during that short time. Happiness, sadness, anger, confusion, shock… Please understand, I am not mentally prepared to have any sort of political talk right now.”

Throughout that whole time, Taehyun didn’t say a word once. Beomgyu, confused by the vizier’s silence, looked up, and all the colour drained out of his face. “Oh my god, Taehyun!”

#court of lies #taegyu #txt taegyu #txt beomgyu #beomgyu #txt taehyun #taehyun #txt #txt fluff #txt angst #txt fanfic #txt imagine #txt imagines #tomorrow x together #tomorrow by together

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anotherfacelessauthor · 3 years

Text

Scenes from October 31st through November 2nd, 1981

James was watching television—some old movie he wasn’t really following—when it happened. He had just been playing with his son, making multicolored smoke bubbles appear out of his wand and chuckling as Harry delightedly tried to catch them, when his wife had announced that it was well past both of their bedtimes. He supposed she was right as he yawned and stretched, discarding his wand on the sofa beside him.

Lily was upstairs in the laundry room, just beginning to fold a few of Harry’s footies after putting him down in his crib. The house in Godric's Hollow was small enough that she could still hear the dialogue of the movie if she listened intently enough. Lily smiled as she recognised it: Meet Me in St. Louis. It had been her mother’s favorite. She fondly recalled watching the film together, curling up under one big blanket and munching on popcorn, singing along to all the songs.

Something caught her eye outside, moments before it happened. A small group of young children parading down the street in pumpkin costumes, their pillow cases dragging on the street behind them, closely followed by two couples. The parents were chatting, saying something Lily couldn’t hear through the glass and layers of protection spells. The children were dancing about, throwing empty candy wrappers on the pavement with reckless abandon. Lily allowed herself to daydream about what Harry’s first Halloween costume would be, once she and James were finally allowed out of the house again. She imagined her son, laughing and feasting with the other children, adorable face sticking through a silly penguin suit.

One of the mothers, a tall, thin woman in a pointy black witches hat, bent down to pick up the littered wrappers, and then it happened.

The pram, still kept hopefully by the door, was tossed aside as Voldemort entered the Potter’s safehouse with a thunderous clatter.

“Lily!” James cried, voice straining in the effort to make sure she heard him. In an instant she knew something was wrong. “Take Harry and go! It’s him!” Her heart rate accelerated, pounding in her ears as she immediately dropped the laundry, springing to action. “Go! Run! I’ll hold him off!”

His words seemed to echo throughout the small house. Every nerve in her body set aflame with adrenaline as Lily rushed into the nursery. Then she heard the terrible curse, the words confirming her worst nightmares, “ Avada Kedavra! ”

The faint thud that followed was barely registered by Lily’s senses as a blood-curdling shriek escaped her throat, pouring her soul out into the cold, still night. It only then occurred to her that she was wandless. Trapped, stuck on the top floor with no way out. No escape.

She shoved a chair under the door handle, a desperate last attempt to barricade herself in, and pressed a final kiss to her son’s forehead. “I love you sweetheart,” she whispered.

Voldemort cast the furniture aside effortlessly and entered the room.

Lily had seen him before, face to face. After all, he had thrice asked her personally to join his legion of Death Eaters. She had always refused. Holding fast to that same determination, Lily swallowed, dropping Harry in his crib and throwing her arms wide to shield him. She was not scared. No harm would come to her son. Of this, she was certain.

“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!” She knew he would not listen. The words were a last instinct, more for herself than the foul murderer who stood in front of her, draped in a dark cloak, wand outstretched.

“Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside now.” He commanded her with force in his tone. Lily recognized the familiar sensation of the Imperious curse and fought against it.

“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—” She would do anything, anything to protect her son.

“This is my last warning—” His voice was cold, cruel, and calculating.

“Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy… Not Harry! Not Harry!” she repeated the words over and over again as if saying them one more time was the key to changing the course of time. “Please—I’ll do anything—”

“Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!”

In the fleeting moments that followed, Harry Potter became the Boy who Lived.

***

It was in some of the final moments of October 31st, 1981 that Hagrid arrived at the decimated house in Godric's Hollow. He’d gotten his orders from Dumbledore the moment the fated curse had rebounded, thanks to a number of surveillance spells, which rang sharp and loud like sirens throughout the Headmaster’s study that night. Hagrid had heard them, even from far off in his hut on the grounds. His blood had turned cold.

The instinct to collapse on the pavement at the sight very nearly overwhelmed him. James and Lily. But above all the devastation he could hear the baby’s cries and he remembered just why he had come.

He dug through the ruins, trying and failing to bite back tears in the chill of the late October night. Just as he found Harry, the tiny infant with a new lightning scar cut jagged across his small forehead, wriggling around and sobbing, a faint rumbling came from down the street. No—from above.

Sirius Black descended upon the scene carefully, landing his magical motorcycle on the street just outside what had been the Potter’s front gate. He was shaking slightly and out of breath, his famously sleek hair now messy and knotted from the wind, his cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink from the chill.

“No!” The shout tore through the too-still air like a shotgun blast. Sirius discarded his bike, letting it fall to the pavement carelessly. He climbed through the wreckage, falling to his knees when he discovered James’ limp body, collapsed over the stairs. His glasses were askew across his face and his mouth was open, gaping lifelessly.

“Where is he…” Sirius muttered to himself. “That son of a bitch where is he—I’ll kill him myself—”

“Hol’ on there Sirius,” Hagrid placed a heavy hand on his shoulder as the tears began to flow. Sirius couldn’t bear it, the tidal waves of emotion, crashing into his body and drawing him under one by one. “It’s a tragedy, but we can’t go doin’ anything reckless, now. It’s not what they would’a wanted.”

Sirius looked up, blinking away the unrelenting stream of sadness pouring down his face. His eyes locked on the baby.

Harry.

His godson.

Harry had fallen back asleep, settled by the soothing rocking and warmth of Hagrid’s arms. He looked so peaceful, so serene, so unaware of the horrors that surrounded him. It broke Sirius’ heart.

“I’ll take him.” His voice broke and he coughed, clearing his throat. “Harry. He’s my godson after all. It’s my responsibility to make sure he’s okay.”

Hagrid looked down on him with an expression of pity. “Oh… I got strict orders from Dumbledore ‘imself. Gonna bring ‘Arry ‘ere to his aunt and uncle in Little Whinging.”

The information washed over Sirius. He swallowed. “Okay,” he agreed hesitantly. Who was he to be a father? He was young, he was reckless, he—“Dumbledore’s usually right in these instances.” His eyes flashed over to the street. He straightened up. “Take my bike.”

Hagrid paused in his rocking of Harry for a moment, shocked. “You sure ‘bout that? Ya love that thing.”

Sirius nodded. He had never been more sure of anything else in his life. “I won’t be needing it, and it’ll get you there quickly. Probably a day, day and a half trip but it’s faster than any Muggle transportation.” He eyed the pink umbrella by Hagrid’s side, “And safer than any experimental magic.”

Hagrid’s cheeks turned a tinge pink. “Right, yer right o’course.”

Sirius helped him get settled, tucking Harry in with a final, tight hug. “I’ll come to visit, all the time,” he promised, pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple, where the lightning scar graced his soft skin. He watched as the pair drove away into the night, keeping his eyes steady on the headlights until they faded in with the blackness and the stars.

He arranged the bodies of his best friends carefully, placing them together, side by side. He closed their eyes and lay their hands on top of one another. If it weren’t for the devastation surrounding them, the fading Dark Mark illuminating the sky, he could’ve convinced himself they had simply fallen asleep.

As muggle sirens wailed in the distance, red and white flashing lights turning just around the corner, Sirius Black disapparated.

***

November 1st, 1981

Sirius Black appeared on the streets of London just as the sun was rising over the tall buildings. He was raving, blistering rage driving him to mutter to himself nonstop “I’m gonna kill him. I’m gonna kill him.”

And that was the extent of his plan.

He was going to trace down Peter Pettigrew, the murderer, the spy , and kill him, if it was the last thing Sirius ever did.

Peter found him first.

Sirius was stalking the streets around Peter’s flat, desperately thinking of a way to find him. Workers had only just started their days, but Sirius had been up all night. The bags under his eyes were dark and heavy, and the grief had set on his face. If any of his friends could have seen him, they would have said he’d aged a decade overnight.

Peter very nearly didn’t recognise him, but he saw the wand hanging by his side, gripped with tight, white knuckles. He knew what he had to do.

“Sirius,” Peter cried, putting on a mask of grief and desperation, “how could you?”

Sirius growled as he turned around. He wanted to tear Wormtail limb from limb, chop off his fingers one by one, anything to make him feel the excruciating pain that he’d forced on Sirius. Feel the weight of his actions, feel the death he had caused.

“We were your friends, Sirius!” Peter let his voice raise higher, attracting the attention of the people passing by. Commuters stopped in their walking, exchanging confused and worried glances, a few eyeing the phone booth on the corner.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sirius grumbled, confused but no less angry.

“James and Lily—”

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK THEIR NAMES!” Sirius couldn’t wait another moment longer. He lunged, pointing his wand forward, but an explosion drew him back. He covered his eyes instinctively as the dust and rubble blew into his face.

He lowered his arm just in time to see a rat scuttering down the drainpipe into the sewers.

And Sirius Black laughed.

He threw his head back as maniacal, uncontrollable laughter overtook his senses. There was nothing more he could do.

The street was in full panic now; a dozen or so muggle bodies lay across the street, heads cracked on the pavement, oozing blood. Sirens sounded, but they were far off. The Aurors apparated in with a crack .

Sirius Black was still laughing hysterically as they took his arms and roughly dragged him off, all the way to Azkaban.

There was no trial.

***

Remus had thought he’d known pain. He’d broken virtually every bone in his body—twice—from his smallest finger to his spine and skull. He’d woken up with gruesome wounds, scarred skin torn and still gushing blood. He’d dislocated and contorted his joints and was plagued by never ending aches now that he was older. His knee, his hip, his shoulder. He’d experienced the agony of his entire body stretching and extending unnaturally once a month for nearly all his life. He’d taken curse after Unforgivable curse from Death Eaters and still stood to tell the tale. He’d felt everything from the dull throbbing of a sprained ankle to the all-over torture of being bitten by a werewolf. He’d even dealt with heartbreak—earth-shattering anger and gut-wrenching confusion and pure pure sadness.

None of it even remotely compared to how he felt when he heard the news.

Dumbledore had sent a patronus.

James and Lily. Dead.

Peter. Dead.

Sirius. The love of his life. His fiance. A murderer. The spy.

And Remus was left all alone.

He threw up.

Just as he was starting to come to, gasping for air, hunched over the toilet lid, arms shaking with the effort to keep himself up, face splayed with hot, salty tears, thoughts frantically drowning in his mind, he remembered the baby.

Harry .

His stomach twisted. He retched again.

***

November 2nd, 1981

Molly Weasley didn’t know what to think when a sudden knock came at her door in the earliest hours of November 2nd, 1981. The knock itself shook the Burrow, jolting her awake from the half-sleep she’d been catching in the old armchair sat in the corner of Ginny and Ron’s nursery. She’d checked that the babies were still sleeping and rushed down the stairs at once.

When she swung open the door, her heart dropped.

“Hagrid,” she gasped, beckoning him in “Oh, come in. What brings you here at this time of night?” Her pulse raced, silently

He was standing beside Sirius Black’s bike, Molly recognized it from all the times her husband had asked to take a poke around. His bushy hair hung over his eyes and his shoulders were shaking. “I’s… jus’ terrible. I got ‘im and ‘e started cryin’ an’ I’m okay wi’ kids but…” Hagrid blubbered on, tears streaming down his face. He interrupted himself to blow his nose as Molly struggled to follow his story.

“Hagrid, how about I make you a spot of tea and we can—” then she spotted him.

Harry. The Potter’s son.

He was bundled in a small cloth that had come loose and unraveled on the flight over. His mouth was open wide and it was only once Hagrid’s voice died down that Molly heard that he was, indeed, crying.

She reached down immediately and wrapped the baby in her arms, soothing him, even as her own stomach dropped. Hagrid wouldn’t have the Potter’s child unless…

Her husband came down the stairs at that point, still in his nightclothes. “Molly, what’s the matter—” his eyes landed on Hagrid, who’d settled himself down on their couch, which creaked and bent worryingly under his weight. He raised his wand. “Have you asked the questions?”

Molly snapped, “Oh, Arthur, is that really necessary—”

“No, no, it’s right,” Hagrid said, still sniffling. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and nodded. “Go on Arthur.”

Mr. Weasley glanced between his wife and the half-giant sitting in his living room. “What did Molly and I serve after dinner last time we hosted the Order?” he asked, voice strong, still unsure of the situation.

“Treacle pudding, an’ a mighty fine one if I do say so m’self,” Hagrid chuckled sadly.

Arthur lowered his wand. “Sorry, Hagrid. You understand, don’t you?”

Hagrid bowed his head. It was only then that Arthur caught sight of the baby in his wife’s hands. It didn’t have the telltale ginger hair of a Weasley. “Molly…”

She looked up and her face was streaked with silent tears. “It’s Harry.” She couldn’t say any more.

Hagrid filled in what he knew, though there wasn’t much. He spared them the details of the broken house, the strewn bodies, the Dark Mark radiating menacingly above them. Even still, the knowledge was haunting.

The Potters. Gone.

None of the three of them slept that night. Molly made a cup of tea—she’d offered a warm meal but none of them had much of an appetite—and they talked themselves silly, sitting in the living room, reliving their best memories of the young couple. When the eldest Weasleys thundered down the stairs early that morning, they found their parents with heavy bags beneath their eyes, cheeks still stained with the dried reminders of their grief.

Harry, who’d fallen asleep shortly after being placed in Mrs. Weasley’s arms, awoke with a bit of a startled gurgle. Seeing him awake made Hagrid remember his responsibilities. He cleared his throat and placed his hands on his thighs, beginning to stand, “Well, I bes’ be off. Got a long journey ahead of us, don’t we ��Arry?”

“Oh Hagrid, don’t be silly,” Molly retorted. “You’ll fall out of the air in your current state!” She gave him the friendliest smile she could manage, “Take a rest. You can sleep in the guest room—at least a few hours. I insist.”

When Hagrid came down a short while later, feeling slightly refreshed, if not exactly well rested, he shook Mrs. Weasley’s hand. “Can’t thank you enough, Molly.” She wrapped him in a tight embrace and just stood there, breathing in the hug for a moment. It was moments like these, in between all the death and destruction and despair, that she wanted to cherish.

***

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randombtsprincessa · 3 years

Text

Alchimia || 1

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Park Jimin x Reader | Multiple characters (1st POV)

Words: 5k

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Hurt & Comfort, all the goodness!

Rating: PG!

Summary: You’re the classic misfit in fantasy. Cue your entrance in the world of Alchimia where magick meets sinisters goals and mystery lurks in every corner. Safe is not something you expect to be at Alchimia Academy.

Playlist: Gnosiiis - Kimbra

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, mentions of magic related violence, school (yep), minimal swearing.

A/N: Hopefully, this is the final rewrite of Alchimia. Please someone take my keyboard away.

The night air was chill, the scent of damp earth and dewy leaves carried upon a soft icy breeze. The forest is meant to be beautiful, considering how deeply natural it really was. No artifice, no human interference, it was inherently…a being.

So the sharp crack of a footfall on dried leaves, not only made the leaves crumble but also the illusion of blissful isolation.

A head jerked to the right, swathed in a too black cloak. The figure had been standing so still that it was impossible to discern that there had been in fact, someone standing in that particular spot.

“You’re late.”

Perhaps it was the coldness of the voice, or perhaps the woods but the new addition sighed, breath pooling out of their mouth to curl into mist.

“I couldn’t disappear by leaving my engagements. It’s a cause for curiosity, if not suspicion and we cannot afford either.”

They watched, as the first figure turned, the edge of that deep obsidian cloak barely brushing their ankles. “I suppose; it was a relief to be able to do the ritual myself. I didn’t need your assistance at all.” There was something caustic about the tone – almost cruel and it brought an irritated grunt to the companion’s lips.

“Then, pray tell, why did you drag me out to such a vile locale?”

“Shush,” There came a swift admonishment, “The trees can hear everything. You’d do well to remember where we stand. It won’t do to make such powerful enemies.”

“Aside from the ones we’ll make if we are ever found out…what about that? Have you thought at all about that one important scenario?”

There was no response, but it was clear that it wasn’t due to uncertainty, or doubt. It was plain avoidance.

The figure grunted again.

“The school year begins soon. I suppose we must wait for it to end to carry out our plans?”

“If we play our cards right, we might not have to wait at all. The ritual is sure to work and we’ll know soon enough.”

“Provided one arrives at the Academy, of course,”

“Unlike you, I have reputable sources. I know for a fact, there will be someone powerful enough for our needs. All we need to do is simply keep a close watch and then act swiftly.”

There was a pause before a small fire blazed into an open palm, the sudden wash of heat and light causing ruffled animals to take off, disgruntled.

The fire was aimed towards the first figure. “You seem sure. Yet you refuse to share your plans, what am I to do?”

“If you cannot find what we need, then it’s better for you to remain ignorant, my unreliable friend.”

“I didn’t think we were friends.” The figure chuckled, watching the other turn away, walking deeper into the woods. If there was one thing they weren’t ignorant about, was that it was best to not follow.

Instead, the palm of fire was lowered, dissipating into the chill as they both parted ways.

Somewhere far away from the chill, amid warm blankets and smooth velvets, a pair of eyes snapped open with a gasp, forgotten nightmares clinging to the dilated pupils.

The blankets felt too hot on my skin, almost claustrophobic as I desperately fought with the covers to free myself. One foot managed to connect with the cooler floor, followed by the other and I could sit up finally, leaning heavily on my arms to brace against the fact that I was at home, in my bed and my hands…well, my hands were not turning into explosives.

It seemed like an almost too short a period of time – from the pushing, from the snarky remarks, from the loud laughter that followed me in hallways. It seemed too close – the times when unknown hands met my unsuspecting body, thrown around as if I was no more than another ball.

And the final onslaught; it felt as if the incident had just happened yesterday…and not a whole month prior.

A burning heat rushed up my arms, starting at the tips of my fingers, tingling and then forming a scorch that ended around my elbows. I picked them up, unwilling to burn through yet another expensive bedding. The jagged flames engulfed nearly all my arm, and even though the heat was uncomfortable, sometimes even painful – it wasn’t so at the moment.

No, this was…this was a different pain. This was a dull ache that wouldn’t disappear from my chest…long after the flames had subsided.

I was an Alchemist.

I was an Alchemist from a family of renowned Alchemists.

And I was a complete and utter disappointment – and a disaster.

It was one thing to have vestiges of power rush out from an untrained Mage’s being. It was never rare. Of course, it was near unheard of that a Mage caused explosions from said power surges.

Well, as clichéd as it was, I was the exception.

Not because I was too powerful to contain these surges, no, it was because I was too weak to hold in anything. I was a problem, not a potential.

These ‘surges’ were uncontrollable, unpredictable as to their scale. And they hurt…they hurt more than just me.

And the incident had been the breaking point; I was dangerous…and I needed to be sent away.

I was being sent away and I couldn’t complain.

It was usual to see my grandparents already sitting at the breakfast table when I came down for breakfast. My grandfather would read the paper, almost always snorting at what he called “mortal absurdities” and my grandmother would smile in her tolerant way and murmur about how we had nothing to be concerned about.

The routine was comforting – both sides reassuring that I did not actually, have to worry myself with human matters.

Of course that was before I blew up my last school.

So it was jarring, coming down to see my parents occupying one side of the breakfast table, no paper in my grandfather’s hands, and an unnatural purse to my grandmother’s lips.

“Y/N,” My mother’s voice cracked out against the soft wooden walls. “Come sit down.”

I gulped.

Y/M/N Y/L/N was one of the foremost Alchemists in the field of transmutation and she held her title with great pride. It was common knowledge at least to me that she was the most disappointed in how her only daughter had turned out.

Not that you could blame her…I suppose.

“Yes mother,” I agreed quietly, taking my chair as unobtrusively as possible, appearing smaller than I was.

Mother sighed, taking a sip of her china tea cup and then fixing me with an unimpressed glare. “I suppose you know what this is about, child. We cannot – cannot – afford to have this kind of attention to us.”

“Yes mother.”

“You’ll find yourself lucky. Humans are painfully oblivious and disbelieving towards anything that is Mage and we did not have to waste time or energy trying to convince the school it was anything but a gas line explosion.”

My ears pricked.

“And they believe that? They all saw me; even the coach. He didn’t say anything?”

Mother narrowed her eyes. “It’s harder to appear normal if you go about saying that you saw a girl make a gymnasium explode when no explosives were found. Like I said, we were lucky. But we cannot have this becoming a trend, Y/N, not when it’s getting harder to…for you – to control yourself.”

I gulped again, but nodded.

She was right. My surges had begun small, light flares of magic overflowing from my fingertips when I flushed from embarrassment, or when my body thudded to the floor with a cruelly aimed shove. The last surge had been a mixture of everything – and had endangered so many people, not all bad.

So when my mother told me about sending me to Alchimia Academy, all I could do was silently nod and accept it. I didn’t have a wet mouth to be able to gulp this time.

My father’s eyes flickered this time, usually laid back but not indolent, he’d been silent in my mother’s decision – but I knew; he felt at his wit’s end. There was nothing he could do to help me as of now but this.

“You’ll be safe there, darling. Our entire family went to Alchimia, and we trained under their supreme guidance. You will not only be able to control and learn to use your powers, you’ll also be able to make friends there – have another chance at pursuing your own life.”

“I know,” I tried to smile. “I think I’d like to go.”

That wasn’t completely true.

Would I like to have more control over my powers? Would I like to feel safe and among people who would have a better chance at protecting themselves than my former classmates? Would I like to make friends? Yes.

Did I have a shot at a proper life if I went to Alchimia? Without a doubt…it was the best school in the country for Mage people.

Did I want to leave the security of the old stone manor, the comfort of my grandparents’ arms?

No, I did not.

But I had no other choice.

It was early in the morning when my father packed me up in the car, the driver quietly pulling away from my grandparents’ estate. My grandmother wrapped her arms around my shoulders, soft murmurs of reassurance echoing in my ear.

It was going to be all okay…I would be in good hands…I was strong enough to handle this…

My grandfather was more realistic. He clamped a hand first on my head and then my shoulder.

“You’re a brave girl, Y/N. If there is anyone who can go through what you did and hold her own at Alchimia, it’s you.”

I smiled ruefully up at the wise aged man. How could he think that of me? Someone who hadn’t even managed to bloom her powers until it was too late and nearly blown Mage cover for the entire world?

It made no sense but I wasn’t going to disappoint them any further.

My mother didn’t say much. One arm came to hug me to her chest, stiff in her affection and silent in her words.

“You be good, Y/N and make us proud.” She said finally, just as the car door shut me away from her.

Alchimia Academy was located deep in the wooded countryside, my father said. With the protection of the massive trees and thick foliage of the forest, it also had magically constructed water sources like rivers and lakes that supplied the school with streams, cutting through the campus for access to the elementals and water nymphs.

The heavily fortified and warded school was the safest place for in-training Mages…but not one of them would be out of control and threatening like I was.

Especially as an Alchemist, I was already on top of the food chain…and the prey would gather to protect themselves.

I was an outcast even before I had stepped foot in the school.

There was near to no conversation between me and my father as the sedan peeled through the asphalt. As the sky turned from a brooding gray to a stunning pallet of morning pinks and oranges, the tar changed to fine dust, small trees giving way to larger heights.

“The wards will begin soon enough.” My father said around late noon, “Mage blood is required to be able to pass the entrance wards. We will be at the school in time for the orientation.” He checked his watch.

I didn’t reply; too enamored by the soaring greenery that hid untold secrets.

Just as my father had said, the ground began to change, turning to a lush lawn with flagstones set in for a driveway. I leaned towards the window, catching my first sight of what was going to be my home for the next three years.

Surrounded by the luxurious greens and browns, Alchimia loomed tall and proud, nothing about it seemingly welcoming. It was part of the Magick; of course, making people who stumble across it feel a dense sense of terror that would never allow them to linger close.

I hoped to god it felt cozier inside as we raced up the curving stones. Spires hung far back, where the older, more gothic structures remained from the original time it had been built in. The outward façade was made of lighter slate rock, gleaming windows facing the woods and a cherry entrance marking the entry and exit. The roundabout swirled around a huge fountain, clearly sourced by the many streams that pooled the campus and it sprung high enough to be visible from farther in the drive.

When the car paused in front of the mighty double doors, they automatically swung open, a lady standing right at the opening as if she was expecting the incoming.

“We’re just in time. Come, Y/N,” My father muttered, opening his door before the driver could even step out. The younger man rushed to open mine, my lips offering him a small smile of thanks as I went to stand next to my father.

We waited till the lady had glided down.

Her hair was rolled into 40s waves, clean and sweeping off her face. Big eyes gave her the impression of being younger than she probably was and the grin she bore wasn’t unfriendly. Her grey suit glittered in the sunlight.

“Welcome,” she began, “to Alchimia Academy of Special Sciences. You must be Y/F/N Y/L/N, of the famed Alchemists.”

“Quite so, thank you,” my father returned her handshake. “This is my daughter, Y/N. We’re enrolling.”

“Ah, another generation of Y/L/Ns,” she smiled. “I’m sure it will be a pleasure and joy to have you with us, Miss Y/L/N.”

“It’s an honor to be here too, Ma’am.” I returned demurely. My mother would be proud that my voice didn’t shake at all.

“Fantastic; you’re just in time. Orientation and Dorm assignments are about to begin. I’ll give you a minute to say your goodbyes and then we’ll head in.”

I found it odd that she never once mentioned her name but she stepped back and my father was turning to me, cutting off the curiosity halfway.

“Right then, dearest,” he said, somewhat awkwardly. While my father had never been cruel, he had also never been very affectionate. It was strange, the endearment but I didn’t think too hard on it.

“I’d say that I am happy, but I will be honest; I am not. At least not considering the circumstances; you would’ve come to Alchimia in your own time, not be sent here like an animal being caged. I hope you know, it pains your mother and me to never see you, and to cut you off like this brings more salt to our wounds than any other.”

I didn’t believe one word he said.

“It needed to be done. I’ll see you, father.” I said, stepping away and moving towards the lady, hoping he wouldn’t call back or try to hug me.

He didn’t.

If the woman heard anything, she didn’t comment, choosing to quietly lead me inside and then, the doors were swinging shut, closing me away from them and putting me with the others.

“This way, Miss Y/L/N, we hold the orientations in the Aurora Gardens, that’s the main grounds.” She led me down a long, high hallway, paneled in dark wood and ancient looking watercolors hanging on them, all depicting what had to be different buildings on Alchimia Campus.

At the very end, another set of double door opened at the wave of her hand, and the immediate onslaught of sunlight on my eyes made me cringe back a little.

It looked like a huge open meadow. Here and there, sprinkled was enormous statues; Grecian, roman, broken horses of terracotta from India, and little pavilions that served as gazebos.

Chatter could be heard, carried over the clean breeze and I took in a deep breath, following the host as she led me across one stile to a pavilion where approximately fifty students were converged.

“This is going to be your batch; I suggest you join them now. I will start the orientation.”

I turned my feet to the back of the group, trying to appear as small and nonthreatening as I could.

Everyone was talking to each other, some just listening but they were all in groups, little clusters of people dotting the marble floor.

I caught sight of a group of girls, and while they looked nothing alike, there was such a form of strong similarity about them, it was almost disturbing. They moved the same, turned their heads and crossed their legs the same, perched demurely on one of the benches.

Faeries…I decided, looking away before they felt my gaze.

Boys rough housed about and some were openly displaying their powers. I caught one boy create a ball of fire in one palm before a girl behind him created a water shower from the air itself, dunking both his head and the fire out.

“Fall in!”

One snapped cry from the lady rendered the crowd silent, everyone craning their head to look at the woman addressing them. She raised her hand, three fingers pointing towards the dripping wet boy and he was dry, the liquid that evaporated off of him, squeezing into a cloudy mist and then dissipating back into the air.

“Now then, if you’re done making a ruckus of the place, shall we begin?”

She didn’t wait for an answer.

“I bid you all welcome again to not only the most prestigious school for the Magickal sciences, but also the safest place on earth that you can be for the next three years of your life.”

She smiled.

“As you all undoubtedly know, Alchimia has been a safe haven for Mages since the 1200s, before being converted to a boarding school in 1456 due to the Undergrounding. As per the wishes of the founders, no Mage shall ever be turned away or persecuted and can live as they wish within these walls.”

My ears pricked at her words.

“Of course, we have adapted since the Dark Ages. It’s a modern world, and Magick has evolved much. The grounds you sit on and will no doubt make merry upon house untold power. I urge you to remember and respect this.”

She moved farther back.

“I have no suspicions that some of you wonder why I do not reveal my name. That is the way of Alchimia, to safeguard those who safeguard you. You may refer to me as Madam Moon, or simply Supervisor shall do. You will never know the name of your professors, unless they vow to you their identity. Our pseudonyms carry power, as you will learn later in your classes.”

“You shall get the day off tomorrow. This is not for you to laze about the grounds. You will go to the Registration House, in Crescent Building and be divided into classes as per your abilities and the subjects you wish to choose. As per what you are and how you do at the six month assessment, you will be assigned a counselor. I urge you to take them seriously. They decide whether you are fit and safe to be allowed within these halls.”

I felt my stomach drop.

A counselor…? Someone who would require your entire history? What would they do when they discovered what I’d done?

“Elemental classes are mandatory for every Mage. They are; Fire, Water, Air, Earth and the Atmosphere. Magick is divided into two levels. The first is primary and the most basic of things, and depending on how you do in your examinations, we shall determine whether you will be allowed to take the arcane classes. Alchemy classes are mandatory for all Alchemists, just as Shape shifting and Necromancy are to be taken by those of said leanings.” She paused, spying a raised hand. It was the same girl who had been using Water Magick. “Yes,”

“Is it possible to take the special classes for those who don’t have the special powers, ma’am?” She asked.

“By all means, of course, people with no applying powers will only be able to take the theory of said classes, but they are absolutely allowable. No knowledge is jealously guarded at Alchimia.”

She waited to see if anybody else had questions before continuing.

“Archaic languages are compulsory, but can be dropped should you wish to in the later years. Of course, if you are a warlock, you may not drop them as you will need them to study the formations of spells and wards. Aside from these classes, Astronomy, Potions and Wards, Anatomy, the applied sciences such as Numerology, geology, physics and chemistry, history and the fine arts are all compulsory in your first year. You may drop some in your second year.”

There was a groan.

“I thought coming to a magic school lets you off the hook for stupid human subjects.” Someone crowed, amid a muttering of agreements.

“Understand that we are preparing you for the outside world. You may choose to retain jobs within Alchimia but you will not be hidden away from humans forever. It is absolutely necessary to be able to merge well with mortals if you wish to avoid detection.”

The crowd fell silent.

“Now, the headmistress is going to be available to students and parents by direct contact – only if she seeks it. If you have grievances and wish an audience, you must let a staff member know.”

She paused, her eyes roving over the mass of students and then she sighed.

“I wish you a happy journey in the Academy but there are some rules you cannot break. Use of practical Magick outside of your classrooms or warded areas is forbidden. Use of Magick on a student is strictly prohibited.” Her eyes hovered over the boy and girl who had used Elements before.

“If you have familiars, they are not to wander the grounds unless they are Bound. And students are not to wander the school grounds after midnight without express permission.”

She squeezed her fists and then released them, a swarm of butterflies escaping one and a barrage of fireflies the other.

“Ladies, follow the fireflies to the Conjura Halls, the female dorms. Gentlemen, the butterflies shall take you to the Invoques Halls, the male dorms. You will be assigned a roommate and be provided with the map of the entire campus. Your luggage is already in your dorm rooms. Please, remember, class registrations are tomorrow and take the day to familiarize yourself with Alchimia.”

She stood back and the swarm of flies parted, the cluster of fireflies lighting up. Slowly, boys and girls changed ways, the girls following the lighted insects down one route.

Conjura hall was a sprawling building, similar to the neo classical construction I’d seen prior. Gardens spread around the building, stunning roses and lovely scents exuding from the blooms. Similar to the front entrance, there was yet another fountain, this time the centre piece the stone carving of a twisting Goddess.

Two towers extended from the main building, perhaps where the staff and offices resided.

I walked with the girls, to small tables where a stack of school maps lay. Plucking one up, I slipped it into my pocket. I’d have time to look at it later, I was more concerned with whom I’d be living with for three years.

The dorm assignments were put up on bulletin boards, names listed alphabetically. Making sure all the girls were busy discussing the school grounds they’d most like to explore, I placed a finger on the page, running it down till I landed on my last name.

Right along the name was…Cho Miyeon.

I tapped the name, wondering if I’d ever heard of them.

Cho wasn’t an Alchemist family name, so it was unclear if I’d ever caught them around the circuit but I was grateful. Having an Alchemist around could either be a very good thing, or a very bad thing. For one, yes, they could help in learning control but they could also be a stressor.

And I was trying very hard to not let myself freak out…

Hiking up the carryon bag I’d slung over my shoulders, I turned my way out the reception hall, walking down the hallway to where the stairs began.

My room was on the third floor so by the time I reached the room, I was nearly panting. I really needed to start some exercise; I told myself, if climbing all these stairs was going to be the norm for three years, I needed to be in some shape.

I grabbed the door knob, feeling it turn warm in my hold and the door swung open. Doors here seemed to do that a lot.

The inside was simple; Nothing glamorous, but cozy and not shabby.

The walls were powder blue, a large white bay window overlooking the gardens, thankfully. The room was divided neatly into two, but the furniture wasn’t identical.

One side had a deep midnight blue bed, the wooden frame mahogany with a matching night table. The desk and wardrobe were of the same wood, the handles glowing gold. Stars spangled the coverings of the lamps, and partition curtain.

The other was much more understated. The bed, desk and night table was pine, silver and small blue stones fitted into the furnishings. The bedspread and coverings were a mild violet, birds printed on them.

I went and sat on the purple bed, hoping that finders’ keepers were applicable here.

My suitcases were stacked near the door, along with a set of another which I deduced probably belonged to Cho Miyeon. It was as I was dragging the first one to my chosen bed – near the window, that the door opened again and my roommate walked in.

Like me, Cho Miyeon did a sweep of the room, before her eyes landed on me.

“Oh!” She started, jumping a little before her hand came up to her chest. “You scared me! I wasn’t expecting someone to already be here.”

“Yeah, we’re roommates.” I said softly, askance in case she resented having to share her room.

“Yes we are! For three years, we’re going to be like sisters! Hi, I’m Miyeon.” She came forward eagerly, her hand outstretched. She didn’t wait for me, grabbing my hand in a firm grip.

“Hi,” I winced. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know,” she beamed. “I saw your name.”

She let go, backing towards the colorful part of the room before giving me a sly grin. “You left the bright part of the room for the Faerie? How astute,”

“I…I didn’t know you were a Fae.” I blinked, surprised. A Fae put in a room with an Alchemist…? Would that even work out?

“Oh, no worries, it’s not like they post that for the world to see. What are you by the way?” She flopped on the starry bed.

“Alchemist,” I muttered, looking down and focusing on unfolding my clothes.

“Alchemist,” she sat up. “Holy shit, are you Y/N Y/L/N, your parents are those famous alchemists?”

I paused, stiff and unwilling before reluctantly nodding.

“Holy Shit,” she said again, “you’re going to be so fucking famous.”

Exactly what I didn’t want…

“I don’t think so.” I tried to wave her off. “I’m sure there are loads of kids here with rich or famous parents.”

“Well, a few, sure, but you know how it is. I heard the Prince of Fae Court is here this year, and the son of a High Warlock with a couple nymphs from the bottom of the ocean itself but aside from that there wasn’t much of a hoot this year. I’m so glad I got you as a roommate.”

I glanced up in puzzlement.

“You must be like…so powerful.” She whispered in explanation.

I opened my mouth, considering telling her not to get her hopes up when I was literally saved by the bell – in the form of a knock on the door.

Miyeon opened the door.

I politely returned my attention to my suitcase when Miyeon called for me again.

“Y/N, come on, we have an early dinner today. Plus the Headmistress is going to address the new students.”

I nodded, sliding on my shoes to follow her and her friend, whom she introduced as Suhwa.

The dining pavilion was one of the bigger monuments in the campus. Hundreds of students gathered under its pillars, finding tables and small spaces wherever they could to perch and eat.

Food was served as a buffet, meats and vegetables and fruits served in large steaming platters. Vines curled over the towering pillars that held up the ceiling and I could spy people sliding up them – most likely tree nymphs.

Miyeon led me with her to her table, the identical girls I’d seen before the ones occupying the table. It made sense, Fae were rather similar – sometimes in more than just disposition.

She introduced Minnie, Soojin, Soyeon, and Yuqi, four more girls to make their group complete.

Each was Fae and each one was absolutely beautiful. They plucked fruits and vegetables off the platters in an orderly fashion, while I grabbed some of the meat before sitting down with them.

Perhaps it was Fae glamour, but it was oddly reassuring. Or maybe it was the knowledge that Faeries were supposed to be very strong and could definitely hold their own against someone who say – accidentally caused explosions.

“So, a Y/L/N, huh?” Soyeon finally asked.

“Yeah, it’s amazing isn’t it? Who’d have thought I’d get an Alchemist as a roommate.” Miyeon nudged me.

“It’s really not a big deal.” I said immediately.

“There are a few more Alchemists this year. It seems they were trying to get more of you enrolled.” Yuqi popped a grape delicately in her mouth.

“Don’t Alchemists usually attend?” I asked, frowning.

“Some do, of course, they have to come.” Yuqi shrugged and for a split second it seemed as if she was going to say something else, but she merely returned to her grapes.

I stared at her from under my eyelashes.

A tinkling of glass made us all look around, to the stage of staff at the head of the pavilion.

Madam Moon had been the one to attract our attention, the sound of the glass amplified by Magick.

“Good evening, students. If you’ve finished, our headmistress would like to say a few words.” She drew back and then another woman took her place.

Tall, upright with pure ebony for hair, she surveyed the pavilion with cool eyes, hands behind her back.

“I wish you a good evening, children.” She said, loudly, no Magick necessary for her to be audible. “I trust Madam Supervisor has made you all aware of what is going to be required of you in our esteemed establishment. I am not here to reiterate. Instead, I wish to tell you what you require from this school.”

She took a breath.

“Mage people were once the most celebrated in the universe. We were worshipped, as gods, as goddesses as philosophers and prophets. In time, mortals have overtaken our natural world and corrupted it with iron and greed and lust for power. The Undergrounding is not just a movement, but also a rebellion. In the face of the humans’ persecution, we have risen and thrived. We have adapted ourselves to fit them. Now, please ask yourself. Do you plan to hide forever? If yes, then Alchimia isn’t the place for you.”

I shivered.

“We are not here to teach you to hide yourselves, to curb your powers. We are here to have you flow with your natural abilities. There is no shame to the Mages – unlike our Magick less counterparts. The shame lies with them for tearing down anything they do not understand. I want you to step forth from these walls, show the world who you are and can be.”

“If you can do so, I bid you good luck. Tonight, you will sleep early. I want you to dream, dream of what you want for yourselves out there. That is what is going to help you survive your classes and in time, yourself.”

She smiled suddenly.

“With that, I hope you all have a good night and pleasant dreams.”

It took some time for students to start moving after the speech. Most were probably in some shock from being told to be the exact opposite of what they’d been taught at home.

I was one of them.

We all had learnt in our childhoods that the Undergrounding was to keep us from being burnt at stakes in the town squares. It was our way of keeping and hiding our secrets from the thieving hands of mortals.

They would try to use and leash our Magick for their own uses and the best way to prevent it had been to go into hiding. To rebel against it, was something inconceivable.

For an age that would never listen to rules, we piled up obediently, dispersing just as we had been instructed to.

At night the grounds, soft and luxuriant, were lit with fireflies and twinkling orbs. They hung upon trees and statues like little stars, casting silvery glints on the grass below. It was like walking in your own private galaxy; enchanting and otherworldly.

It was while walking through the gardens of Conjura Halls when I stopped by a bush of tall roses. It was stupid, the impulse. I never allowed myself Magick if I could help it and to do it in the presence of a whole school of Mages.

I had to be out of my mind.

Nevertheless, I reached out, grasping a thick stem and yanking the rose from the bush. The thorns grazed my thumb and fingers, the smell pungent under my nose but I carried it with me inside, climbing the stairs up to my room.

Miyeon had already drawn the curtains, closing off her side of the room when I came in after brushing my teeth, rose still in my hand.

I hoped she was already asleep as I slipped my feet under my sheets, back propped on the headboard.

I cast a look out the window; moonlight flooding into the room unfiltered and closed my eyes, trying to remember what my grandfather had taught me.

Feel it in your core, burning and throbbing, let it seep through your bones, feel it tingling in your muscles…then let it go, don’t hold back.

I opened my eyes, feeling the soft heat in my fingertips, cautiously sitting up in case they increased to a flame. And then to my utter relief, the flower glowed, its matter turning into golden pollen and just when I thought I could reform it, it turned to dust – literally.

I was left sitting on my bed handfuls of burnt ash clutched in my palms.

#btsguild #ficswithluv #btsbookclub #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #jimin angst #jimin fluff #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #bts #jimin #park jimin #bangtan fanfic #jimin x reader #bts jimin

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huntresswarlock · 3 years

Note

Belated on the ask meme but do them all or all the ones you haven’t done give me content BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

i haven't done any of them so... a-all of them it is ;;v;; puttin under a readmore because long

1: Summarize your WIP in 10 words or less.

The price, responsibilities, and benefits of second chances.

2: Post a line from your WIP with no context.

Make it stop, he strung the words together in his head as they burned away on his dried-out tongue, please, I will do anything, I don’t want to die, not here, not like this, this wasn’t supposed to happen, please, please, please...

3: Does your WIP have a title? If so, explain its significance. If not, what are you calling it for now?

and if you fall, the sun will catch you

It was a suggestion by @z-nogyrop when I was kicking around the initial idea for the main character. Given that said main character's name is Icarus, and another major character is the god of fire... I think the significance is pretty obvious lmao.

4: Describe the setting of your WIP.

Small faux-friendly village with a dark cult underbelly.

5: Search for the word “knife” in your WIP. If you find it, paste the line and explain the context.

"Somehow the sight of those pathetic little things twisted a sharp knife in his gut harder than if his wings had been completely bare."

Icarus tried to use fire to burn away his past, and it got out of hand and ended up nearly killing him. His life was saved, but his wings were not salvageable, and are now only bare flesh, like a plucked chicken.

6: Search for the word “dream” in your WIP. If you find it, paste the line and explain the context.

"His nights offered nothing but dreams of a vast field covered in flames beneath an orange sky."

In exchange for saving his life, the god of fire charges Icarus with preventing other people from using fire irresponsibly like he had, as well as helping those who have been hurt by fire. To give more specific orders, the god manifests in Icarus' dreams as described above.

7: What are you most proud of?

I'm really proud of my beginning, which opens with Icarus nearly burning to death and explores the immediate aftermath before closing on a slightly more hopeful note. I think it sets a tense tone and communicates a lot about Icarus, as the first thing readers see of him is his close brush with death.

8: What is your biggest challenge?

Pacing! Also weaving character thoughts into the narrative. But mostly pacing. I am on a wickedly self-indulgent chapter right now, and it's hard not to just linger here.

9: How would you describe your writing style?

According to you, it's Ray Bradbury-esque. ;;w;; I use a lot of imagery and metaphor, and short-to-medium length sentences.

10: How would you describe your WIP’s narrative style? (1st person, 3rd person, multiple POVs, single POV, alternating chapters, etc.)

3rd person limited

11: Which character do you have the most in common with?

That's a hard one, because there just aren't that many characters in this story. I suppose Apollo, the tiefling love interest to Icarus?

12: Which character do you have the least in common with?

Icarus himself, I think.

13: Your characters are stranded on a deserted island. What happens?

Icarus would be very miserable and go back and forth on whether he can overcome his fear of fire to light a rescue beacon. He'd also probably hate the idea of having to forage for his own food and water.

14: Have you chosen birthdays for any of your characters? If so, when are they?

Icarus was born on a winter solstice, but I haven't nailed down anything further than that.

15: Do you know your characters’ MBTI personalities?

Nope!

16: What would your characters be for Halloween?

Icarus - something subtle, since he's never participated before and doesn't want to get it wrong; some kind of animal, probably, since he can just put on/take off ears and a tail

Apollo - a chef!

17: Does your WIP have any themes or motifs?

Birds/flight and fire.

18: What’s easier, dialogue or description?

They're both hard DX writing is really hard... if I had to pick, I'd say dialogue is easier.

19: Post a picture or gif that describes your WIP.

I... I have this moodboard I made for Icarus... does that count...

20: Post a brief excerpt.

To him, it resembled nothing less than an animate pile of dry kindling. Hardly a threat, even if it had startled him when it began moving. The voice had told him only to collect information about it, that he wasn’t ready to face it... but the voice had also said it couldn’t tell exactly what it was, either. It was entirely possible that Icarus could kill or destroy it, especially since it didn’t seem to have noticed him. If he did so, then surely he could prove that he wasn’t taking his second chance for granted, and the voice would be happier with him.

He had to try. The voice had mentioned that he was equipped with further magic, now, and he could feel it thrumming in time with the heat in his chest. How much, he couldn’t precisely tell, but it was more than likely enough to handle a pile of moving sticks. Icarus held his breath, one hand curled around his locket, the other clenched into a fist. If he shifted his focus just right, dim light began to seep from his closed fingers, but he held back from fully channeling his magic until the entity was just about to round the edge of the doorway.

When he whirled out from behind the barn wall and flung his hand away from him in a way that felt right, a bolt of sunlight arced from his outstretched palm and straight into the creature’s spindly shoulder. Not exactly where he’d wanted to hit it, but the explosion of dry wood as the limb fell away and it stumbled put an updraft beneath his spirit. Icarus shouted and pulled on his magic again, drawing more sunlight to his palm. One more good hit like that, properly aimed, and–

The dismembered arm thrashed against the ground and swung into his calves and that soaring energy vanished, replaced with a free falling sensation, almost literally as he staggered and tried to regain his bearings before it swung again. A desperate kick only gave it an opening to twist, ropelike, over his ankle, digging searing hot splinters into his skin as it clawed into the ground to keep him from moving.

The searing wood hurt, but he couldn’t afford to keep his attention on it, not while the rest of the entity hissed and twined its remaining arm into a whip that lashed a burning wound straight through his shirt. He fought down the rising panic in his throat and hurled another spear of sunlight at it as it advanced on him. It barely noticed or paused as it continued to drive him back, further into the barn, forcing him to drag the detached limb with him. He pulled on his magic again, willed a third well of light to his palm.

But no sunlight rose to his fingertips. Whatever had been fueling his magic, it was now entirely spent, and its absence felt unnaturally cold in his chest. He had never been much of a fighter, had never been one to do more than avoid attention by sticking to the sidelines. His one great act of recklessness, trying to burn away the parts of himself he hated, had gone horribly for him. And now he had done it again, and there was no stern but careful voice to save him. How could he have been so stupid, to not listen to it?

He had to run, had to make a break for the barn door and the field beyond. Maybe he could run back to town, get help, get the guards, something, anything to avoid dying here. Another kick at the wood wrapped around his leg managed to crack it enough that it lost its grip on him for long enough that he could get away, skirting around the creature and towards his escape. It stopped moving and tracked him with sunken, eyeless sockets, turning its head on a swivel almost all the way around with a sickening crackling.

Dense, dry underbrush sprouted beneath his feet, catching him by surprise and sending him tumbling to the ground. It grasped at him and slowed him down as he tried to keep crawling forwards. He kept pulling himself hand over hand, inching ever closer to the door – until burning hot tendrils of wood wrapped around his neck and ripped him from the entangling plants, holding him high above the ground. It did not move for a long moment, letting Icarus struggle to draw breath and watch, helpless, as its detached arm reconnected to its ruined shoulder, the fractured wood smoothing over until it looked as if it had never been broken. A jagged seam split its head with something that was almost a smile as it brought him closer, reaching with its free hand towards his chest.

Towards his heart? No–

His locket.

Icarus clawed and kicked at the wood around his neck hard enough to give himself splinters, to no avail. It hissed at him, like dry grass rubbing against itself, begging for a spark. A spark like the one contained in the golden pendant, because surely that would be more than enough to set it ablaze, if it wanted to burn. But he couldn’t let that happen, he couldn’t let himself and this barn and field and town go up in flames–

The only warning he had before the entity dropped him was a brief flaring of the heat in his chest. No, no it hadn’t dropped him – its grasp had passed right through his neck as his body... dissolved, burst not into flames but smoke, his limbs going from solid to vague impressions. The creature’s hissing cut off with a choking noise, and though he could no longer see anything, he could sense the dull heat of it scrambling away from him.

He gasped – or tried to, at least, even as his thoughts and body swirled in chaotic air currents left in the creature’s wake. It was leaving, getting further away with every moment he spent huddled on the barn floor, and he knew he ought to follow it to figure out where it went to recover, but he could not will himself to move. Even the slightest twitch seemed liable to separate his limbs from his body, and he wasn’t sure he could ever get them back if he lost them while he was like this.

Calm, calm, he had to stay calm, there had to be a way to reverse this, if he just thought hard enough and didn’t let himself panic. Icarus forced himself to pretend he still had lungs and go through the motions of breathing, the insubstantial matter of his chest rising and falling. He didn’t have eyes to squeeze shut but he tried anyway, pressing his face to the ground and blocking out the flickering warmth of distant animal bodies. With every fake breath, the smoke that his body had burst into coalesced more, until he had lungs and eyes again, until he could curl his fingers into the dirt and feel it wedge beneath his nails. Until he was, for better or for worse, back in his usual, solid form.

#thank u alden i'll die for u #manicdragondreamgirl

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castiel-barnes · 3 years

Text

Sanctuary. Part 1.

The Mandalorian and The Jedi. Chapter 2.

Pairing: Mandalorian x Jedi! Reader.

Summary: After escaping the stormtroopers and the guild on Nevarro, Din Djarin, the Jedi and the child land on a quiet planet for sanctuary.

Warning: Angst. A little fluff. Little bit of fighting.

Wordcount: 4.1k

A/N: Yay! Second chapter. Thank you everyone who liked the 1st chapter im glad you liked it. This is gonna be a long ass chapter. This is so long I'm gonna make this chapter in multiple parts.

Previous chapter: Chapter 1.

Masterlist.

Tags: @phoenixhalliwell @scribbledghost @farfromjustordinary @ginger-swag-rapunzel

You awoke a while later, the hum of the Razor Crest providing white noise for you as you slept. Sitting up, you groaned as every muscle in your body ached. Remembering what happened you placed your hand up to your bandaged eye, and hissed as it was still rather sensitive.

Getting up off the cot, you grabbed the wall to steady yourself. Walking over to the ladder leading up to the cockpit, you winced as you forced yourself up.

"Mando?" You asked cautiously hearing a coo from the child,

"How are you feeling?" He replied turning in the pilot chair towards you.

"Like I just got charged by a bantha." You said quietly sitting down in one of the co-pilot chair opposite the child. Din chuckled at the statement.

'Mando just laughed!? That was... weird and nice?' You thought to yourself.

"Do you want me to check your eye?" Din asked,

"Will you? Please." You replied. Din stood up and went down the ladder to get the first aid kit that he used on you. Coming back up the ladder, he placed the first aid kit on the consol and pulled off his gloves. You observed that his skin was bronze coloured, a few scars here and there and a small bullseye tattoo on his left hand.

As he removed the bandage from your eye, he was glad that you couldn't see his face as he grimaced. The scar looked angry and red, although it looked a lot better than it did when he found you unconscious.

"Do you wanna try opening your eye?" Din asked,

"Yeah." You replied, you fluttered your eye open a little and you winced. You furrowed your brows confused "mando why can't I see? Why can't I see out of this eye?" You continued frantically. Din grabbed your shoulders gently and kneeled down in front of you.

"Hey! Hey calm down. It's ok. Whatever caused that cut, must have damaged your eye enough to blind you in that eye." He replied calming you down a bit. Din sat back in his chair and packed away the first aid kit, whilst you stayed quiet holding the kid.

"It was my own lightsaber." You stated quietly,

"What?" Din asked turning to look at you.

"It was my own lightsaber that caused this" you replied gesturing vaguely to your left eye. "The stormtrooper who was guarding me, threatened me with it when there was like an explosion in the building and he lost balance and the saber jolted." You continued quietly, stroking Grogu's ears gently.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know they were going to do that to you." Din replied looking out the window,

"It's ok, you only done what you thought was right and to get credits to survive." You stated looking at him.

Getting up, you sat grogu in your seat and went to the refresher that was near the cot. Finding a small mirror in the corner of the refresher, you finally got a look at your eye. The scar was angry, red and a bit jagged from where the lightsaber jolted it, and your eye itself a white haze glazed over it. You let out a shaky sigh and showered getting all of the grime, blood and sweat off of your body.

A while later you were once again in the cockpit with Din, but the child was being fussy and wouldn't go to sleep.

"Grogu you have to sleep buddy, you'll be grumpy later and you know it." You stated gently rocking him. Din looked at you slightly, and saw how peaceful you looked with Grogu in your arms. Slowly but surely, Grogus eyes and ears started to droop lower and lower until soft even breathes filled the cockpit.

You laid Grogu down in one of the cots, until you could fix his floating pram again. Sitting back down in the co-pilot seat, the two of sat in silence for a while.

"What was your jedi training like?" Din asked you,

"It was ok, it was a lot of meditation, lightsaber duelling or with training droids mostly. A lot of meditation, although I was just starting my training to be selected as a padawan for one of the masters before order 66 happened." You replied looking out the window again.

"Do you still meditate?" Din asked looking at you properly,

"Yes, it helps clear my mind. Helps calm me sometimes and get answers to problems. What was your training like?" You stated looking back at Din.

"Different to yours thats for sure. I swore the creed when I was a youngling after the mandalorians saved me. Most of the training was sparring, how to fire blasters, stuff like that." Din replied,

"So no one has seen your face in years?" You asked. Din shook his head and replied with a quietly,

"No. Get some sleep okay? It's gonna be a while before we're on another planet." Din stated.

"I will. I'm alright for the moment. You need sleep too mando, can't have you on no sleep." You replied, "if we pick a planet or a system, I can keep an eye on everything in hyperspace while you sleep." You continued. Din was quiet for a moment. Hesitant.

"Ok. I was looking at a planet when you was asleep earlier. Sorgan. Low population, not much civilisation there. I think it'll be alright for us there for a while." Din replied,

"Alright, do what you need to do. I'll come get you if there are any problems." You stated reassuring him. Din nodded and punched in the coordinates, then got all of you into hyperspace. He walked off and climbed into one of the cots to finally get some sleep.

*******************************************

The Razor Crest was about 5 minutes away from dropping out of hyperspace into the skies above Sorgan. Lightly knocking on the door to the cot where Mando was sleeping, you heard a slight hum to acknowledge that you were there.

“Mando, we’re about to drop out of hyperspace. We’ll be at Sorgan soon.” You stated,

“M’kay I’ll be out in a minute.” He replied with a rough sounding voice. As if he heard your wakeup call for Din, Grogu started to wake up slowly. You walked over to him and smiled as you picked him up.

“Hey buddy did you sleep okay?” You asked him, he smiled and cooed at you grabbing onto your robes and snuggling into you. You were glad that you were stopping off at a planet, because you needed to get sewing supplies to be able to mend your robes. You winced a little as Grogu shuffled against you and jabbed you in the ribs which were still painful. But instead of telling him off, you smiled and told him you were alright as his ears drooped and cooed at you worryingly

“I’m alright buddy, I promise. You know I’d always look after you, and I know you worry for me too.” You stated running a finger over his ear. It was a good thing that you were force sensitive and could understand Grogu. Because to a natural being like Din for example, he wouldn’t be able to interpret what the kid was saying. But you and Grogu could communicate easily through ones mind, sometimes the two of you will have some good conversations that are funny and sometimes they can be sad and talk about when the two of you were at the temple before the empire and order 66.

The first time the two of you had met Din, what Grogu said to you was funny even though the circumstances were unfortunate.

‘Where is tin can man taking us Y/N?’ Grogu asked, you had to stop yourself from laughing out loud.

‘I don’t know buddy, I like the nickname though. But I’ve got a bad feeling about this.’ You had replied to him smiling a little. As you were reminiscing Din startled you a little as he entered the cockpit. You sat down still holding Grogu, and looked at the back of Din’s head for a second. Grogu had been curious and gently laid his little 3 fingered hand just below your still sensitive scar. Pullng away slightly, Grogu cooed sadly as he looked up at you.

“It’s alright Grogu, it’s just a bit sore ok?” You said to him, he cooed again gently placing his hand lower on your cheek ,

“Mando put bacta on it for me, but it won’t help the blindness in that eye. I don’t think you’ll be able to do anything buddy.” You replied again to him. Din looked at the two of you, and under his helmet he had a look of confusion on his face.

“You can understand him?” Din asked, you looked up at him and smiled.

“Yep, sometimes when there are force users they can sometimes communicate with each others through their minds.” You replied,

“Hmm that’s kinda interesting actually.” he said with a tilt of his helmet and he went back to looking out the window.

A few moments later the Razor Crest dropped out of hyperspace and Sorgan finally appeared after a few hours of travelling through hyperspace.

From the looks of it, Sorgan was mostly covered in forest with clear patches here and there, and some pools of water.

***********************

The Razor Crest landed in a clearing that could fit it. You got up off the chair and went down the ladder, looking for your robe that Din must've taken off of you as he attended to your wounds. Finding your robe folded up and your lightsaber in a neat pile by the cot, you smiled a little and placed on your robe before picking up your saber.

You sighed lightly looking at your saber and then clipped it onto your belt. You didn't hear Din come down the ladder, and he looked at you as you sighed and clipped on your saber.

"You alright?" He asked you,

"Yeah, I just didn't think that I'd get hurt by my own lightsaber." You replied looking at him. He nodded as if he understood, probably hurt by one of his own weapons in the past.

"I'm about to head into the settlement that I spotted on the way down. It's about a mile or two. You don't have to come if you don't want to, but we might be able to get you and the kid some food." Din stated opening the ramp, that showed you the forest that seemed to spand for miles. You stood there for a second, thinking about what people would think about your scar. You could just stay here. Meditate. Do some light training while you waited for Din to come back. But you decided that you'd go, you couldn't hide your scar forever. It's a part of you now.

"I'll come with. Check out the area." You replied drawing in a deep breath,

"You sure? You don't have to." He asked again.

"No, I'll come. I mean I could hide with my scar forever, but then I don't think I'd truly be myself." You stated looking at him. He nodded slightly again and led the way out of the crest towards the settlement that Din had spotted. The 3 of you walked in silence most of the way, the occasional coo coming from Grogu and the occasional hum from you.

"It's been a while since I've been to a planet like this." You stated smiling to yourself,

"When was the last time you was on a planet like this?" Din asked turning his helmet slightly to you.

"It was at the Battle of Endor, when the last Death Star blew. Grogu was on the resistance command ship, and I was in an X-Wing. If I was on the ground team, I probably would've been executed by the empire." You replied thinking back as you walked,

"For being ..... a jedi?" Din asked hesitantly.

"Yes. After order 66, there weren't many jedi left. Few such as Master Kenobi and Master yoda were the only Jedi masters left from the jedi Council. Then somehow Skywalkers kid, Luke trained with Yoda for a while and became a jedi Knight. When we won the battle of endor, we had a celebratory party along with the ewoks." You said as you looked up and saw the settlement that Din had been talking about earlier.

Walking into the cantina that was on the planet, you kept your head down letting your hair fall partly across your scar. Sitting down at a table, Din ordered two bowls of broth for you and the child.

"You not gonna eat?" You asked,

"I'll eat later." Din replied. You and the child had your broth, and Din went outside as he became distracted. You could sense that something was slightly off, picking up Grogu you walked outside with a hand on your saber.

Setting Grogu down you walked around the corner to find Din and a shock trooper? Fighting. They fell to the ground and rolled, pulling out their blasters. Their heads turned as they heard your saber ignite. The shock trooper felt the slight warmth radiating from your light blue saber.

"What's your hurry shock trooper?" You asked earning a snigger from Din. Eventually, you turned off your saber and clipped it back to your belt. You, mando and the shock trooper talked but it wasn't for long. Making your way back to the crest, you got Grogu some snacks that you had found, because it had been hours since you ate. You heard Din talking to someone and you made sure that Grogu was safe before walking outside.

"What's their deal?" You asked Din as they guys sat by their transportation,

"They want help, they've had a problem with some mercenaries or something like that stealing their livestock." Din replied.

"They offer anything if we helped?" You said looking up at the stars that had made an appearance,

"Sanctuary. Lodgings for as long as we want as long as we help them solve their problem." Din stated looking at you as you observed the stars,

"You don't have to stay with me you know? You're free to go anytime you want." He continued.

"I know. But... you're the only one I can trust mando. I- I know that Jedi and Mandalorians were enemies in the past. But that was the past. And you've helped me, the least I can do is help you if you need it." You replied looking at him where you think his eyes were.

"Ok, we'll help those people and get lodgings. Stay here with the kid, and get them to load on any kit we might need. I'm gonna make a pit stop." Din stated strapping his pulse rifle to his back. He left you with the child and for you to supervise over your two new aquintances who were loading some of your stuff onto their transport.

A while later, Din came back with the Shock trooper. You knew her name, she introduced herself as Cara Dune when you first met her. But you liked calling her trooper. You didn't say anything to her, although a shock trooper, recently you had a hard time trusting others except mando.

Making sure you had everything you needed, all 4 of you plus the 2 who had asked you and mando for help climbed on the transport that was to take you to a small village.

"Get some rest, they said it'll be some time before we get there." Din stated leaning back against the side. Grogu copied him making you laugh a little, and then you and the shock trooper done the same. Feeling Grogu snuggle into you as the night grew a little colder, you wrapped your robe round him to keep him warm.

You hadn't realised that you had fallen asleep, until the transport came to an ubrupt stop jolting you awake. You sat up still aching from being hit by stormtroopers, and the uncomfortable position you had fallen asleep in. Din had woken up about the time the sun had came up.

"Morning." Din stated his voice gruff,

"G'morning" you replied stretching a little. Grogu was still asleep clinging onto the bottom half of your robe still. You decided to take your robe off and wrap him completely in it, so he could stay warm and sleep some more. Wincing a bit as you climb off of the transport, you grab onto the side of it to steady yourself.

It had just been over 24 hours since Din had saved you, so you were still quite weak and still recovering.

"You gonna be ok?" Din asked seeing you steady yourself for a moment,

"Yeah I will be. Just everything aches right now, I'm sorry I'm of no proper help right now." You replied standing up as tall as you could.

"It's alright, hopefully this isn't as bad as we think. We'll find you something easy to do, you just need to rest up a bit more. And hopefully we get some good lodgings for a while." Din stated grabbing one of the crates. You nodded and picked up some light stuff that wouldn't cause too much pain for you.

Picking up the child, you walked around the village scoping out the place. Coming back to where Din and the trooper were unloading the transport, one of the villagers came up to you.

"Hi my name is Omera, thank you for coming to help us." She stated smiling softly at you and Grogu,

"Y/N and Grogu." You replied showing Grogu who was awake now, "it was mando who agreed, but I would've aswell. Thank you for the sanctuary." You continued spying a little girl who was hiding behind Omera's legs. Omera noticed that you saw her daughter, and smiled coaxing her out from behind her.

"It's ok Winta, these people are gonna help us with the bad guys." Omera stated kneeling down, "go on sweetie you can ask" she continued,

"Can I play with him please?" Winta asked in a small voice.

"Of course you can, just don't go too far with him ok?" You replied smiling kneeling down to place Grogu on the floor. Winta smiled and instantly started playing with Grogu. You smiled, as you tried to stand up you moved a bit too fast and winced your leg almost buckling from the pain. Omera moved forward to catch you before you fell completely.

"Are you alright?" Omera asked worry etching her face,

"Yeah I'm just... I'm still recovering from what happened. I just need some rest that's all." You stated quietly. Omera helped you up and made sure that you were ok.

"I'm sure we have a few huts spare for you and the others. We can get a bed for you, so you can rest for a while." Omera stated,

"Thank you, I'll talk to mando about what's gonna happen. And if it's alright with you and him I might get some rest." You replied looking at Grogu and Winta playing,

"Of course it'll be alright. Anything you need just ask." Omera smiled tracking your eyeline to the children. You walked off towards mando, casting a quick glance back again towards the kids playing. Walking over to mando, you looked to see that most of the crates were now unloaded.

"Omera said that she can put us in some free huts that are here. And if we need anything just ask." You stated getting Din's attention,

"Alright, get some rest ok? You look like you need it. I'll come get you later when we know what we're dealing with, and for food." Din replied looking at your tired aching state.

"Ok thank you. Do you think you can keep an eye on the kid please? Make sure he doesn't eat anything... weird." You looked at the kids playing again, and Grogu seemed to be more happy than he had been in a while.

"Of course. Get some sleep cyar’ika." Din stated blushing at what he just said, thankful that you didn't understand. Although it did guage a reaction from you which was confused. You walked back to Omera and asked her if she had a spare hut ready. You followed her to a hut that was free.

"Thank you Omera." You stated with half a smile,

"It's no problem Y/N." Omera replied. You sat down on the bed and instantly fell asleep. You hadn't realised how tired you actually were, the bed you laid on felt like a marshmallow and it didn't take long to sleep.

******************************

Din had gone into the woods with Cara to find out what exactly was going on. It was worse than any of you or the villagers thought it was. Making their way back to the village, they got the villagers with the exception of the children gathered.

"Excuse me omera?" Din said getting Omera's attention,

"Yes mando." She replied turning to him.

"Uh... could you tell me what hut Y/N is in please?" He asked,

"Of course, they're right over here." Omera smiled leading Din to the hut that you was in. He thanked her as she walked away going back to the group. Knocking on the side, he tried to get your attention.

"Y/N? You gotta wake up for a bit." Din stated, but no response from you. You must've been asleep. It was almost 2 and a half hours ago that he last saw you. Walking in quietly he saw you wrapped up in a blanket.

"Hey Y/N you gotta wake up." Din stated shaking you a little. You woke up with a start instantly relaxing at seeing Din.

"Hey its just me." Din continued,

"Hi, how long was I asleep?" You asked groggily adjusting to the light.

"2 maybe 3 hours. Cara and I went to look what we're up against, and basically there are a group of like mercenaries or scavengers. They also have an AT-ST." Din stated looking around the hut,

"A chicken walker?" You asked eyes going comically wide as much as you could.

"Yeah, it's not gonna be easy." Din replied. You sighed and nodded slowly getting up off of the bed. Leaving the robe in the hut, you only took your lightsaber with you. You saw Cara already had the villagers gathered together. Standing behind Din, you listened to what they had to say and sighed. As the briefing was over and the shock trooper talking to the villagers, you walked up to Din.

"M'going to meditate, I'll only be on the edge of the village." You stated quietly,

"Ok, be careful." He replied looking at you. You smiled a little and nodded, walking towards the edge of the village. You found a little rock that you decided would help and get you back into the swing of using the force. Standing there feet shoulder width apart and your hands behind your back, you closed your eyes concentrating.

As you stood there concentrating, you felt a presence standing behind you. The presence of a child. Opening your eyes, you turned around to find a young boy.

"Hello there." You smiled kneeling down gently to his height,

"Hi." He replied shyly.

"You ok?" You asked him, he smiled and nodded.

"Are you a Jedi?" He asked looking curiously,

"What's your name kid?" You replied.

"Temmin." He replied still somewhat shy,

"Well Temmin, my name is Y/N. Can I trust you?" You asked and he nodded. You patted the front patch of grass in front of you and sat down as did Temmin. You smiled and grabbed the small rock you had picked up earlier. Temmin sat down in front of you and looked up at you.

"How did you know I was a jedi Temmin?" You asked him, placing the rock in your hand.

"I saw your laser sword when you got here." He replied looking at the rock curiously, you smiled as the rock started to float in front of you and saw Temmins jaw drop.

"It is a lightsaber, it is the weapon of a Jedi Knight. Open your hand Temmin." You replied. He did what he was told and opened his hand, as he did you placed the rock down in his hand. He smiled up at you, and you could tell that he liked you and in truth you thought he was good curious kid.

"What was you doing earlier?" He asked looking at the rock,

"I was meditating, it helps me to think and calm my thoughts." You stated.

"Can I meditate?" Such a curious kid you thought,

"Of course kid. Just close your eyes, sit up straight and just breath in and out. Just listen to the things that surround us, and clear your mind." You explained, recalling what your masters had taught you.

The two of sat there a while meditating, and talking about normal things other than being a jedi. While Din and the shock trooper were training the villagers, you made sure all the kids were ok especially Grogu, Winta and Temmin they all took an immediate shine to you.

#pedro pascal #the mandalorian #star wars #writing #the mandalorian x jedi

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antiquery · 4 years

Text

the other day I was talking to a friend and I said something like “the dream quest of unknown kadath, much like other epic fantasy of its type, honestly reads like someone’s rpg campaign that just went completely off the rails.” this is true.* because I have absolutely nothing better to do in quarantine, i have gone through the entire novel and empirically determined what rpg class randolph carter would be (sheet included). you’re welcome.

*inb4 “but el there’s only one protagonist”: I’ve played one-on-one d&d before and it can ABSOLUTELY work and be completely delightful, so hush.

GROUND RULES

I’m using 5th edition d&d, because it’s the system I’m most familiar with. stay tuned for the sequel, where I do this all over again but with pathfinder.

I’m also using UA stuff + some of the new things from explorer’s guide to wildemount, because dunamancy is very thematically lovecraftian.

carter is very clearly a seasoned adventurer in this story. textually, he’s only the fourth human to ever venture to unknown Kadath; additionally, “being old in the land of dream he counted on many useful memories and devices to aid him.” with such qualifications in mind, let’s go ahead and make him level 20. this is, after all, the sort of nonsense high-level PCs get up to— challenging gods and the like.

RACE: human, obviously. let’s go variant human, both to reflect his oddball nature & to pick up a 1st level feat.

BACKGROUND: this one’s a bit trickier. according to Lovecraft he’s a resident of Beacon Hill in the waking world, the most upper-class neighborhood of Boston, so let’s say he’s got the noble background.

ALIGNMENT: an interesting question! carter isn’t exactly your standard fantasy hero, and he’s not really out for anyone but himself. he demonstrates a clear willingness to allow other people to come to harm in pursuit of his goals, though he himself never actually harms anyone for any reason other than self defense. but he’s interpersonally kind, and clearly doesn’t actually want anyone to get hurt. let’s say true neutral.

ABILITY SCORES

strength: not his best ability score, though he does seem to be fairly athletic when it’s absolutely needed. let’s make this a 10.

dexterity: carter is fast on his feet, nimble, and clearly good at feats of escape, which he pulls off several times in the text. let’s make this his highest score, at a 20.

constitution: he’s not especially tough. another 10.

intelligence: carter speaks several languages and knows a great deal about the history and culture of the Dreamlands. when he can’t talk his way out of trouble, he tends to reason his way out. let’s make this pretty high, though not as high as his charisma— a 16.

wisdom: this one’s a bit tricky. while he’s relatively perceptive and skilled at things that depend on wisdom, he doesn’t seem to have a ton in the way of common sense, and (as demonstrated by his encounter with the merchant in dylath-leen) his insight is absolutely abysmal. let’s make this a 12.

charisma: carter’s pretty sociable with just about every creature he encounters on his travels; people seem to like him, and he has friends all over. additionally, he’s an excellent liar, and quite persuasive, when simple likeability doesn’t get him where he needs to go. let’s make this an 18.

SKILLS

survival: carter clearly knows his way around the natural world.

“Carter detoured at the proper place, and heard behind him the frightened fluttering of some of the more timid zoogs. He had known they would follow him, so he was not disturbed; for one grows accustomed to the anomalies of these prying creatures. It was twilight when he came to the edge of the wood, and the strengthening glow told him it was the twilight of morning.”

deception: when carter can’t get his way through persuasion, he’s more than happy to lie, and quite skilled at it too.

“Then Carter did a wicked thing, offering his guileless host so many draughts of the moon-wine which the zoogs had given him that the old man became irresponsibly talkative.”

“For a week the strange seamen lingered in the taverns and traded in the bazaars of Celephaïs, and before they sailed Carter had taken passage on their dark ship, telling them that he was an old onyx-miner and wishful to work in their quarries.”

religion: carter displays an impressive knowledge of the workings of both the gods of the dreamlands and the outer gods (though the latter might actually be better classified as an arcana skill, now that i think about it).

“Now the use of all this in finding the gods became at once apparent to Carter. It is known that in disguise the younger among the Great Ones often espouse the daughters of men, so that around the borders of the cold waste wherein stands Kadath the peasants must all bear their blood. This being so, the way to find that waste must be to see the stone face on Ngranek and mark the features; then, having noted them with care, to search for such features among living men. Where they are plainest and thickest, there must the gods dwell nearest; and whatever stony waste lies back of the villages in that place must be that wherein stands Kadath.”

“He knew, however, that no beings as nearly human as these would dare approach the ultimate nighted throne of the daemon Azathoth in the formless central void.”

“[...] for he knew from old tales that the Great Ones’ castle atop unknown Kadath is of onyx.”

“And they sang many songs and told many tales, shewing such strange knowledge of the olden days and the habits of gods that Carter could see they held many latent memories of their sires the Great Ones.”

“Carter surmised from old tales that he was indeed come to that most dreadful and legendary of all places, the remote and prehistoric monastery wherein dwells uncompanioned the high-priest not to be described, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and prays to the Other Gods and their crawling chaos Nyarlathotep.”

investigation: in the taverns of dylath-leen and elsewhere, carter shows a remarkable facility for collecting useful information.

“Meanwhile he did not fail to seek through the haunts of far travellers for any tales they might have concerning Kadath in the cold waste or a marvellous city of marble walls and silver fountains seen below terraces in the sunset.”

history: same principle as arcana, really; a huge chunk of the information we get about the dreamlands comes with the mention that carter himself knows all this.

"[Carter] recognised the templed terraces of Zar, abode of forgotten dreams; the spires of infamous Thalarion, that daemon-city of a thousand wonders where the eidolon Lathi reigns; the charnal gardens of Xura, land of pleasures unattained, and the twin headlands of crystal, meeting above in a resplendent arch, which guard the harbour of Sona-Nyl, blessed land of fancy.”

“The dead temples on the mountains were so placed that they could have glorified no wholesome or suitable gods, and in the symmetries of the broken columns there seemed to lurk some dark and inner meaning which did not invite solution. And what the structure and proportions of the olden worshippers could have been, Carter steadily refused to conjecture.”

“At last far below him he saw faint lines of grey and ominous pinnacles which he knew must be the fabled Peaks of Thok.”

“And Carter knew right well what they must be, for legend tells of only one such twain. They were the changeless guardians of the Great Abyss, and these dark ruins were in truth primordial Sarkomand.“

perception: despite his consistent failure to notice when people are lying to or tricking him, carter’s fairly observant of everything else.

“He noticed that these cottages [on the moon] had no windows, and thought that their shape suggested the huts of [the Inuit].*”

nature: concordant with his apparent skill in surviving in the world, carter is quite good at recognizing different natural phenomena.

“As the coast drew nearer, and the hideous stench of that city grew stronger, he saw upon the jagged hills many forests, some of whose trees he recognised as akin to that solitary moon-tree in the enchanted wood of earth, from whose sap the small brown zoogs ferment their peculiar wine.”

“They were not any birds or bats known elsewhere on earth or in dreamland, for they were larger than elephants and had heads like a horse’s. Carter knew that they must be the shantak-birds of ill rumour, and wondered no more what evil guardians and nameless sentinels made men avoid the boreal rock desert.”

persuasion: people tend to like carter quite a lot, and he excels at getting his way without resorting to violence.

“The captain, after landing, made Carter a guest in his own small house on the shore of Yath where the rear of the town slopes down to it; and his wife and servants brought strange toothsome foods for the traveller’s delight.”

“After much persuasion the ghoul consented to guide his guest inside the great wall of the gugs’ kingdom.”

“And all through that second day he made progress in knowing the men of the ship, getting them little by little to talk of their cold twilight land, of their exquisite onyx city, and of their fear of the high and impassable peaks beyond which Leng was said to be.”

“The ghoul that was Pickman glibbered gravely with its fellows, and in the end Carter was offered far more than he had at most expected.“

athletics: despite his apparently mediocre strength score, carter’s rather good at feats of athleticism (running long distances, climbing, etc)

“But there was a way, and he saw it in due season. Only a very expert dreamer could have used those imperceptible foot-holds, yet to Carter they were sufficient.”

“For hours he climbed with aching arms and blistered hands, seeing again the grey death-fire and Thok’s uncomfortable pinnacles. At last he discerned above him the projecting edge of the great crag of the ghouls, whose vertical side he could not glimpse; and hours later he saw a curious face peering over it as a gargoyle peers over a parapet of Notre Dame.”

“Once he thought he heard the hoofbeats of the frightened beast, and doubled his speed from this encouragement. He was covering miles, and little by little the way was broadening in front till he knew he must soon emerge on the cold and dreaded desert to the north.”

acrobatics: the multiple times over the course of the story carter falls from great distances, he manages to land on his feet. additionally, he’s apparently an accomplished climber, so make of that what you will.

stealth: as one might expect from a character who’s so used to going at problems slantwise, carter is very good at sneakery.

“There was one chance that Carter might be able to steal through that twilight realm of circular stone towers at an hour when the giants would be all gorged and snoring indoors, and reach the central tower with the sign of Koth upon it, which has the stairs leading up to that stone trap-door in the enchanted wood.”

“Carter allowed his curiosity to conquer his fear, and crept forward again instead of retreating. Once in crossing an open street he wriggled worm-like on his stomach, and in another place he had to rise to his feet to avoid making a noise among heaps of fallen marble. But always he succeeded in avoiding discovery, so that in a short time he had found a spot behind a titan pillar whence he could watch the whole green-litten scene of action. “

FEATS

lucky: what it says on the tin; carter’s luck is extraordinary. multiple times during the novel, he’s saved from certain doom by a stroke of happy chance.

observant: a huge part of the text’s travelogue sense comes from carter noticing specific and responding to specific elements of his surroundings.

mobile: again, carter’s very quick and hard to pin down. sort of an extension of the idea behind giving him athletics proficiency, & one of his class features.

LANGUAGES

goblin: “Carter, however, had no fear; for he was an old dreamer and had learnt [the Zoogs’] fluttering language and made many a treaty with them.” small carnivorous pack-hunting creatures with a primitive society and language of their own sound pretty goblin-like to me.

celestial: when he reads them, carter is "disappointed by [...] the meagre help to be found in the Pnakotic Manuscripts and the Seven Cryptical Books of Hsan.” since these texts all concern the gods of the Dreamlands, we can safely assume they’re written in celestial.

undercommon: “A man he had known in Boston—a painter of strange pictures with a secret studio in an ancient and unhallowed alley near a graveyard—had actually made friends with the ghouls and had taught him to understand the simpler part of their disgusting meeping and glibbering.” honestly, what is the vale of pnath if not the underdark? it’s got cities and everything!

MISC. PROFICIENCIES

vehicles (water): “The sea party, commanded by Carter, boarded the anchored galley and rowed out to meet the undermanned galley of the newcomers.” not sure where he learned to sail— the miskatonic crew team, maybe, or summers on the cape?

thieves’ tools: never shows up in canon, but come on, obviously he’s got some trap-disarming/lock-picking ability!

CLASS

BARD 11 / COLLEGE OF LORE

we know from the paratext of his narrative that carter is an artist— he’s a novelist, and a talented one at that. even here, though, his relevance and abilities are in large part due to his creative capabilities as a dreamer. it’s not exactly traditional barding, but I’d argue that what is a bard if not someone whose creativity reshapes the world? whether that takes place through the medium of music or just through the raw power of imagination is more a question of internal distinction than anything.

the college of lore is all about the seeking after of knowledge and beauty, forbidden or not. these bards are absolutely focused on the pursuit of truth at any and all costs, sometimes to their own demise. if there’s a better college for a doomed dreamer on a quixotic quest after something fleeting and beautiful, I don’t know it. here are some of the places in the text carter acts particularly college of lore-y:

“Carter felt that the lore of so far a traveller must not be overlooked.”

“At last, having gained all the information he was likely to gain in the taverns and public places of Baharna...”

“It was from these children of the exiled hill-people that Carter had heard the best tales about Ngranek when searching through Baharna’s ancient taverns.“

“And as that music grew, the shantak raised its ears and plunged ahead, and Carter likewise bent to catch each lovely strain. It was a song, but not the song of any voice. Night and the spheres sang it, and it was old when space and Nyarlathotep and the Other Gods were born. [...] Faster flew the shantak, and lower bent the rider, drunk with the marvels of strange gulfs, and whirling in the crystal coils of outer magic. Then came too late the warning of the evil one, the sardonic caution of the daemon legate who had bidden the seeker beware the madness of that song.“

ROGUE 9 / SCOUT

we mentioned above carter’s clear facility with the natural world, but more than that, his way of confronting (or not) the various sticky situations in which he finds himself is decidedly roguish. he sneaks about rather than plunge into a fight he knows he can’t win; he enlists other people to fight for him; he’s profoundly strategic about what conflicts does and doesn’t engage with, martial or otherwise. rogues are all about fighting smart, not hard; scouts in particular are all about self-sufficiency and solitary capability. I was actually torn between scout or inquisitive for his roguish archetype, considering as inquisitives are very much focused on detection, perception, and investigation— but ultimately inquisitives are far, far better at reading people than carter is, to the extent that one of their core class features relies on it. so, scout it is!

SPELLS

and here we get into somewhat trickier territory, because our dear protagonist is not himself especially magical. I’m taking a little bit of liberty here for the sake of plausibility as a player character. we know from the text that carter is able to manipulate the world around him, if only subconsciously, because he’s a gifted dreamer. I tried to reflect that idea in his spell list, giving him a mix of enchantment and transmutation spells, with a few psychic damage and divination tricks thrown in. an important note: I can’t imagine carter casting spells like a regular bard, playing music or reciting poetry or giving a speech; instead, I imagine it would look a lot more like how your average sorcerer does things, re-writing reality through sheer force of will.

cantrips: minor illusion, mind sliver, mage hand, prestidigitation

1st level (4 slots): charm person, sleep, identify, longstrider, speak with animals

2nd level (3 slots): enlarge/reduce, enhance ability, suggestion, wristpocket

3rd level (3 slots): blink, clairvoyance, psionic blast, tongues

4th level (3 slots): charm monster, polymorph

5th level (2 slots): commune, legend lore

6th level (1 slot): eyebite

and there we have it! randolph carter the true neutral human 11th level bard/9th level rogue. I took the liberty of writing up his finished sheet (art credit @sator-the-wanderess), which you can find viewable below as well. if anyone wants to actually play this version of carter (or a leveled down version) or use him in their game, please do, and please let me know!

LINK TO PDF CHARACTER SHEET

#lovecraft #cthulhu mythos #randolph carter #the dream quest of unknown kadath #i reread the WHOLE STUPID NOVEL for this #while blasting the witcher soundtrack on loop #best way to spend a wednesday evening easily #tabletop blogging #el the DM #(is i suppose now my tag for my own tabletop nonsense)#o do not ask what is it

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lycorogue · 3 years

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Holy smokes guys, if you’ll indulge me, I want to tell you about the dream I just had. (*EDIT: I wrote this right as I woke up from the dream before I forgot most of it. However, I had to get ready for work, so I was only able to finish/polish/post just now.) Mostly because I only have dreams I can remember about twice a year (and I used to be one of those people that remembered dreams nightly when I was a kid. OTL), so I want to jot down as much as I can remember before I lose it. Plus, it has a lot of Miraculous Ladybug elements, and some of you might find it amusing.

My dream started off with my husband and I having a day off together, shirking our adult responsibilities for the day, and just having a date day. We drove into the nearby city and just had a day of goofing around as we window shopped (remember when it was safe for people to do stuff like this? *long sigh*) One of the places I distinctly recall us stopping was some sporting goods store where we checked out kayaks (they’re super big in our area; practically everyone owns one).

But then, as we were checking out the kayaks, my husband wasn’t my husband anymore, and I wasn’t myself. At some point my mind converted both of us into 18yo versions of Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng from the show Miraculous Ladybug.

We were just friends; hanging out; simply spending the day together. Just the two of us. We were still goofing around and window shopping, just as we were when we were still myself and my husband, but now there was this sort of unsure sexual tension????? Like, Adrien was very much Chat Noir flirting, but in a way that Marinette couldn’t quite tell if it was supposed to be flirting, and Adrien didn’t seem sure himself if he meant it to be flirting??? But there was a LOT of chaste touching of upper arms, lower backs (mainly to direct Marinette), and hand holding (mostly to pull her in a particular direction).

I can’t recall if it was a canon character or if my mind made someone up, but I do recall a random second 18yo boy kind of following us around. It could have been the show’s canon “Adrien Agreste’s #1 fan” Wayhem, but it also felt like it wasn’t supposed to be him? You know how dreams are like that? Where you can’t quite pin down who someone is supposed to be in them? To make life easier, though, we’ll just say it was supposed to be Wayhem.

So, the dream became a sort of aged up version of the episode “Gorizilla” where Adrien (formerly my husband) and Marinette (formerly me) are running around Paris (formerly a US city nearby me IRL) just trying to have a good time window shopping together and goofing around while Wayhem is semi-stalking them? Now, canonically, after the incident of Wayhem chasing Adrien around Paris during “Gorizilla”, Adrien became Wayhem’s friend and was indeed willing to hang out with the kid, as long as Wayhem treated Adrien as a normal kid and not a celebrity that Wayhem was star-struck over. In my dream’s canon, this was still semi-true. Wayhem was more of an acquaintance of Adrien’s than a friend the blonde would hang out with regularly, but Adrien still made time to hang out with his fan. However, Wayhem in my dream could not wait his turn, apparently, and when he saw Adrien “in the wild”, as it were, he wanted to join in the fun. So a large portion of the dream was Adrien (Hubby) and Marinette (me; I saw the dream through 1st person via Marinette’s eyes, but I KNEW that’s who I was supposed to be) trying to ditch Wayhem.

We ran around department stores, riding bikes through the toy aisles, and had shopping cart races where Adrien was pushing me (Marinette) around the store in the shopping cart with Wayhem behind with a giant stuffed animal in his cart. We snuck into movies at the cinema, only to try to sneak back out to lose Wayhem. I can’t recall what else we did, but we had a grand old time hanging out and screwing around in various stores while also trying to shake Wayhem (and, to be fair, Adrien did try to tell Wayhem that he was trying to have a day just hanging out with Marinette and will set up a time to hang with him, but the kid wouldn’t leave us alone. He was like a kid brother just following us around trying to play with us when we just needed our own time).

Eventually, we did lose Wayhem, and we were back inside a department store. When we noticed we were alone, Adrien had this cheeky grin, and asked me if I’d be willing to go wait for him over in the women’s clothing department for a couple of minutes; he had something he wanted to do privately real quick. Shrugging off my curiosity of what he was up to (I like to be surprised), I agree and go wandering through the clothing racks.

There’s this whole thing about a group of older teenage girls trying to pick out outfits that best accentuate parts of their bodies that they like, but other girls are debating that the first ones are just sexualizing their own bodies to be on display for men, and it was this whole thing about whether you dress sexy for yourself or because you want someone to find you attractive. @_@ Not sure why my dream got super philosophical in the middle there.

Anyway, Marinette (me) navigates around this crowd of girls debating and finds this cute white t-shirt dress with Jagged Stone’s logo (for those who don’t know, Jagged Stone is a canon rock star within the Miraculous Ladybug universe). While Marinette canonically wears almost exclusively clothing she designs herself, in my dream she also occasionally buys clothing with trademarked logos on them that she likes (because she can’t legally recreate them). So she (I) goes into the dressing room and puts the dress on.

Then, wearing the dress as a tunic over the normal pink capris Marinette canonically wears, and carrying my (Marinette’s) shirt and jacket in my arms, I wander the women’s department some more to make sure Adrien can find me. As I do so, my cellphone rings, and my IRL uncle is calling me to see if my sister-in-law would like a DVD set of the show Lost, I believe? I can’t quite remember which show he was asking about. The odd thing is that my uncle is about 25 years older than me. My sister-in-law is about 2 years older than me. I don’t think they talk on Facebook, and I’m pretty sure they only met at my wedding. So I have absolutely no clue why my brain connected these two in a manner where he’d want to double check with me on a birthday gift (belated Christmas gift?) for her.

Anyway, I get off the phone with my IRL uncle, and my IRL job calls me with some sort of crisis that I can’t recall. It was a quick phone call as the owner of the store ended up in some sort of car trouble, I think, and the woman I was on the phone with had to quickly get off to help the owner. It was a bizarre intermission within my dream. Anyway, my IRL husband shows up (I’m still picturing myself as 18yo Marinette, btw) and checks in on the phone calls. We joke around a little bit, and POOF Hubby is magically Adrien again, and we’re back to the main storyline.

So Adrien gives a little “wow” and holds out a hand for me (Marinette) to take. He then has me do a twirl to show off the dress. He talks about how lovely it looks on me, but then kind of scrunches his eyebrows. He then kneels in front of me, like RIGHT UP on my left leg, and clicks his tongue disappointingly. He points out this huge stain along the hem just above my left knee. It’s about the size of an American half-dollar and almost looks like a blood stain: a dark reddish-brown center that fades into an off-white/light-yellow along the corona of the stain.

As Adrien plays with the hem to get a better look at the stain on the dress, his fingers brush against my knee (I mean, I still have the capris on, but still), and it almost looks like he’s worshipping me, and my heart CANNOT deal! I can feel it RACING and my cheeks starting to warm up. That’s when Adrien starts, like, HARD CORE flirting with me by again commenting about how good I look in the dress, and how well it fits my body shape, and how disappointing it is that this dress has a stain because he’d love to see me wear the dress a few more times. And he just slowly stands up, but doesn’t really move back before doing so, so I have to take a small step back so he’s not just sliding up my leg as he stands. And my heart is about to EXPLODE as he looks at me with those intense green eyes.

I swallow hard, and Adrien just kind of puts on this cheery smile like nothing just happened, and he suggests we look to see if there’s another dress in my size that doesn’t have the stain. I lead him to the rack and we riffle through it quickly. We do find another one of the Jagged Stone t-shirt dresses in my size, and Adrien takes it to fully inspect it. No stains. No loose hem-work. The print of Jagged Stone’s logo seems well done. The dress itself isn’t all that expensive. We got a winner. Adrien then suggests I go get changed back into my normal clothes, so I leave him as I enter the changing booth to put my shirt and jacket back on, and that’s where I wake up.

But I do so with the lingering knowledge that Adrien 100% bought Marinette that dress while she was changing, and his initial surprise (why he asked her to go to the clothing department to wait for him in the first place) was a little pastel-rainbow tie-dyed teddy bear that he wanted to get her to commemorate their day-long hangout.

So.... yeah... that was my dream, and it was so intense at the end there that I legit woke up because my own, physical, IRL heart was RACING from all the Adrien flirting towards the end.

Just wanted to share that. Thanks for indulging me and reading all the way through.

(*EDIT: I’ve been lowkey thinking about that whole brushing Marinette’s knee while inspecting the dress thing all day. So guess who has yet ANOTHER plot bunny to try to wrangle. Thanks, Brain! 9_9 Care to actually help me WRITE any of these plot bunnies, or are you just going to plop more unexpectedly onto my lap and then just wander off? Oh! The latter? Great. >3>)

#LycoRogue writing #LycoRogue original #LycoRogue ramblings #dream #random dream I had #ML #Miraculous Ladybug #I think I have a new aged-up story idea #and it may come with some soft-core smut #>3>

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haddonfieldproject · 4 years

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<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

CHAPTER TWO: ALL SAINTS DAY

1.2.1 WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 29th, 6:04pm PT‬

Woodsboro, California

‪

“Okay, let's see what we have here,” Ophelia Tate said, pulling a plastic clipboard from the little cubby beside the door and looking at the chart that was affixed to it. She skimmed over it and then looked up at her young patient. On the hospital bed, sitting atop the clean white paper, was a short and skinny little brunette girl, with big square glasses and a red beanie cap that made her look a lot like Velma from Scooby Doo. Just under the cap on her left eyebrow she was holding an ice pack, wrapped in a towel soaked in blood.

“It says here you fell and hit your head on a water heater?” Ophelia asked her, pulling the little rolling stool out from under the cabinets on the far side of the room and seating herself upon it.

“Yeah,” the girl sighed, showing a row of silver braces. “I know...I'm such a klutz”.

Ophelia looked again at the clipboard. “Yasmin? Did I say it right.” Ophelia made sure she pronounced the “Y” like a “J”, the girl did look Hispanic.

Yasmin smiled, “First one today.”

Ophelia tossed the clipboard on the bed next to her patient and pulled some latex gloves out of her smock. “Excellent. Let's have a look!”

The young girl withdrew the towel containing the ice pack and a spurt of blood shot out passed Ophelia's face, sprinkling the tile behind her.

“Whoa!” Ophelia gasped and reached over and grabbed the girl's hand with the towel in hers and pressed it back onto her eye. “Let's keep that on there shall we!”

Yasmin swooned.

“Breathe,” Ophelia said looking at her. “You look pale...are you gonna pass out?”

“I don't know,” Yasmin stuttered, “Maybe.”

“Well don't,” Ophelia smiled, “It's my last night of work here in this place and I don't want to be spending it picking you back up off the floor.”

Yasmin smiled. “I'm okay...I think.”

“I'll get you a cup of water and Jennifer, our nurse, is gonna come in here and butterfly that. Then we'll wait and see if it can close a little bit. Then we'll decide it we have to use stitches or glue.”

“Oh please glue! I don't want stitches.” Yasmin cried.

Ophelia grabbed the clipboard and began writing. “Well, I'll tell you this,” she said while she scrawled, “Glue is much easier, but it doesn't heal as well. Sometimes...a lot of times...the scar ends up jagged where the glue held better in some parts than others.” She looked up, “And where it is on your eyebrow...it might make your eyebrow look crooked. If you let us stitch it, it can heal up in a few months and you'll probably not even be able to tell it was ever there.”

Yasmin's shoulders dropped. “Then stitches.”

Ophelia folded the clipboard in her arms, hugging it to her chest. “Are you sure?”

“Hell yeah,” Yasmin exclaimed, “I have senior pictures next year. A crooked eyebrow on a guy is cute...a crooked eyebrow on a girl is the difference between a rich husband who takes you on a honeymoon to Barbados, and Joe MBA who takes you to Miami.”

Ophelia frowned, “I like Miami.”

Yasmin gave her a look and they both laughed.

“My question is how the hell you smacked your head on the water-heater?” Ophelia asked.

Yasmin rolled her eyes, “On Wednesday nights I ride the school-bus to my church for youth group after school. We basically just hang out and play games down in the church basement and...well, this guy Juan Menendez..we were...I don't know...chasing each other or something and I tripped over the leg of the ping-pong table and fell...right in to the water heater.”

Ophelia grimaced, “Ouch...right in front of him?”

Yasmin grimaced back, “Yeah....I know...so embarrassing”

“What did Juan do?” Ophelia asked.

Yasmin smiled and closed her eyes dreamily. “He got me this towel...and this ice...and he picked me up off the floor and put me on the ping pong table.”

“Is he the cute guy in the waiting room with the blue shirt and white shorts and the gold necklace?” Ophelia asked.

“No way, he's here?!” Yasmin dropped the rag, sending another spurt of blood that just missed Ophelia's smock.

“Whoa! Keep that on there,” Ophelia said laughing. “I'll go tell Jennifer you want the stitches.”

“Aren't you going to do it? I like you,” Yasmin said pleadingly.

“Sorry kid. My time at Woodsboro Family Medical Center has come to an end. Actually ten minutes ago. I'm transferring to a new hospital in Illinois and I got to get out of here and get on the road.”

“Illinois? What's in Illinois?” Yasmin grimaced again.

Ophelia plopped the clipboard back in it's spot. “Lots of corn I hear.” She snapped off her gloves and stomped the pedal on the stainless steel trashcan by the door and dropped them in.

She headed down the hall and turned to the left toward the break room. The annex area there was empty, which was odd because usually there was at least one nurse at the nurses station. She had her purse in her locker to get and she knew she had at least one frozen meal in the staff room freezer to throw away. She hated when people left their food behind and she didn't want to be one of those people. To her surprise, there wasn't anything in the staff room freezer, so she shrugged, pulled her purse out of her locker and turned to walk out the door, feeling strange that there was no one around to say bye to or have wish her luck. Just then, Dr. Holmes, a young Chinese girl who had been Dr. Yang a month ago before she married a nice plastic surgeon from Cloverdale, popped into the door, making Ophelia jump.

“Oh...sorry Dr. Tate,” she said.

“Jesus Yang you scared the shit out of me,” Ophelia still hadn't gotten used to calling her Homes. Usually Holmes corrected her...and everyone else who made the mistake, but this time she didn't.

“Dr. Shaw wants to see you in the conference room, he has some forms you need to sign before you leave.”

Ophelia groaned, “Really?! I have to get out on the road.”

Holmes shrugged.

Ophelia followed the young Dr. Holmes out of the break-room, passed a pair of restrooms and a supply closet to the conference room. The door was shut, which was odd, and even odder was the fact that Dr. Homes stepped out of the way to allow Ophelia to open the door. Ophelia frowned and pushed the handle.

“SURPRISE!!!”

The room was full of doctors and nurses, as well as balloons and streamers. On the giant mahogany conference table was a large cake, upon which was written: GOOD LUCK DR. TATE! There were also various fruit and vegetable trays and a pitcher of what looked like pink lemonade. Her husband stood there too in one of his ridiculous sweater vests that Ophelia had asked him over and over again not to wear, smiling at her from ear to ear. In the corner, sprawled out on a couple of chairs was their son Damon, but he was wrapped up in his smartphone and didn't look up. In front of him was the small TV on which there was a baseball game.

“Oh my gosh,” Ophelia put her hands to her cheeks, “You really got me..I never expected this.”

Dr. Shaw was an older gentlemen, and he was standing next to Ophelia's husband Jack. He came around the table and embraced her, kissing her cheek, “Well you should have my dear. You've been part of the team for so long, you don't think we would send you away without some kind of celebration?”

Ophelia's husband Jack approached her next and and leaned in to kiss her. Ophelia turned her head and offered him her cheek. “Surprise,” he said quietly.

“You know I hate surprises,” she said under her breath through her teeth.

“Smile and fake it,” he answered.

“That's what I'm doing,” she replied, “I thought we had to get on the road.”

“I budgeted time for this,” he answered.

Dr. Holmes/Yang came up next and hugged her. “I was convincing?” She asked.

“Yes,” Ophelia smiled, “You were very convincing.”

Ophelia's best workmate Tonya, a big beautiful black woman in pink scrubs came up next. She squealed like a middle school girl at a slumber party and hugged Ophelia's neck. “Oooooohhh gurl...I am gonna miss yooooouuu!”

Ophelia laughed and said, “I know girl...I came out of 7 and looked at the nurses station and was like, 'Where the hell is everybody?'.”

“That should have been your first clue,” said Dr. Thomas. He was a tall, sexy, black doctor who had only been working at Woodsboro Family Medical long enough to make Jack Tate insanely jealous. The young doctor stuck out his very large hand, Ophelia took it.

“Where are you going exactly?” He asked.

“I have position waiting for me as the Chief of Medicine for a small town hospital in Illinois.” Ophelia replied, moving around the table and grabbing one of the small plates on the table. She held it up to Tonya. It read: HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Tonya waved her hand and laughed, “They was the only ones we had gurl!”

Ophelia smiled and grabbed the cake cutter, carving a wedge in between the last T and the E in her last name on the face of the cake.

“Really,” Thomas said, “I grew up in Springfield, what part of Illinois?”

“It's called Haddonfield,” Ophelia said plopping the cake on her plate.

“Never heard of it,” Thomas said.

“Where is the damn remote for this TV, we need the sound on.” Dr. Shaw grumbled.

“It's right here,” Damon held it up without looking up from his phone.

“Un-mute it son,” his father said.

“Isn't this Game Six?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah,” Shaw said, “It's been a hell of a series...as a doctor I've been very thankful for my DVR.”

They all laughed.

🎃

1.2.2 PRESENTLY—SATURDAY NOVEMBER 1st 2:04 AM

Interstate 70 near Booneville, Missouri

‪

Ophelia sat up straight in her seat and looked out of the windshield. She couldn't see anything but rain. She looked over at Jack who was sitting straight up in his seat also, squinting hard, his head leaning so far over the steering wheel as he drove that his forehead was mere centimeters away from the glass.

Ophelia stretched, “Where the hell are we now?” She asked.

“Somewhere in the middle of Missouri,” he said, not taking his eyes off the road.

“God it's raining hard,” she exclaimed. She pulled her phone out from the center console and disconnected the charger cord. She looked at the time. “When are we supposed to be there.”

“I expected to be close by now,” he said, “but with this damn storm, I can't go anymore than 40. It will be closer to sunrise now.”

“How long has it been storming?” Ophelia asked, pulling up her weather app.

“Since we got into Oklahoma,” he said.

Her radar was completely red, and there was scrolling banner on the top of the screen. “Says this area is under a tornado watch,” she said.

“This is the worst storm I've ever seen,” Jack grouched.

“You've lived in California your whole life,” Ophelia laughed and opened up her social media page. There were no notifications, everyone she knew was either at work or asleep right now. She looked at the dashboard. “I can't believe this old piece of junk made it!” She said.

“This baby will never die!” Jack exclaimed, for the first time taking his eyes off the road and smiling at his wife.

“Not if we keep dumping all of our money into it,” Ophelia rolled her eyes. “I'm going to miss my Mazda,” she pouted.

“I told you,” Jack replied, “As soon as we get our feet wet in Haddonfield, we'll buy you a new car.”

“I think you should trade this in,” Ophelia grumbled, putting down her phone, “You're not going to need a car sitting at home writing a book.”

“Never!” Jack said smiling, holding up a clenched fist.

Ophelia looked in the backseat. Damon was sleeping, his bluetooth earbuds still in his ears.

Jack saw that she was looking at him and looked at her. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Ophelia waved, “watch the road.”

She looked at their son a little longer and then finally turned back around and closed her eyes. “I just hope we're doing the right thing.” She said quietly.

“Of course we are,” he said, “trust me, this is going to be a great plan.”

“Yeah yeah,” Ophelia yawned, “You have a plan for everything.”

Jack ignored her snide comment, “I'm thinking about stopping off at a truck stop to take showers before we get in to the town. The sun will probably be up by the time we get there if this rain holds up and we might be able to check out the hospital. Then we can just sleep the rest of the day before we unpack everything on Sunday.”

Ophelia nodded, “If it's all part of the plan...” she said sarcastically.

“Oh shit!” Jack breathed as the car hit a puddle and hydroplaned for a second or two.

“Please don't kill us,” Ophelia said quietly, without opening her eyes. It was better that way.

NEXT>>

#halloween #halloween franchise #michael myers #horror #horror writing #80s horror #spooky #fan writing #fan fiction

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mtchstick · 4 years

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hello all, time to meet my latest nuisance, michelle ‘mitch’ novak, 34, investigative journalist, chaos magnet, megagalactic pain in the ass. full bio + hcs & wanted connections below the cut!

“ alone in your car, the violence you imagine: it hurts so hard, a memory you can’t forget. wherever you are, why’d you ever concede it? as if, if a god would ever care, and if it did, then nothing unpure is ever complicated, and nothing undone is ever done or said by chance, and nothing unsure has ever resonated — i float through the walls. i float through the walls. ” .

name : michela michelle maria novak. the last is a taken name: not her birth father’s (pasqualino “lee” ferrante) but the name of the man who married her mother after her divorce with lee. as much of a shithead as he was, sometimes mitch regrets the novak name (only keeps it as a token of her ties with her siblings). her pen name, however, is mitch lennox — a very male, very white name that she believed would help her articles get some credit in the world of journalism (and that helped her distance herself from her red ridge past). age : thirty-four (born october 20th, 1986). pronouns : she/her. gender : cis female. location : red ridge, nv. occupation : investigative journalist. sexual orientation : pansexual, demiromantic. religion : agnostic (mostly a non believer, though she tends to find comfort in the thought of a higher power in dire times, and keeps her grandmother’s crucifix in her car). affiliation : none, although she’s never shyed from asking favors to valencia or law enforcement alike (and has often owed favors to both, and more). _________

personality :perhaps in order to understand the full range of mitch’s character one would require a century, perhaps a degree in archaeology. the short version of it is, what you get is mostly an act. not a genuine character, but a persona crafted, layer by layer, for survival, for self-preservation. on the outside, mitch novak is close to a hurricane: can’t be predicted, will show up unannounced, spread havoc all around, disappear again when the sun has set. one might call her volatile, fleeting some, never sticking to a plan but shifting constantly, as if the very essence of staying still was a risk far too big for her to run. it might look like evidence of a poor character, material perhaps — it is instead the proof of her determination, which barely knows any obstacle, surely not one of a human kind. she’s resolute, far too proud of her own beliefs, pushing ever forward with barely any thought over consequences or just the general, common sense awareness of danger. reckless, one might call her, but not for lack of a will to live, rather an attitude she’s developed in being extremely resourceful, constantly finding ways to get out of the corners she’s backed in (so far: there’s no telling how long this will last). this ever changing, constantly moving nature reflects itself in her dynamics with others, too: do not count on her to stick around, whether tied to a familial, friendly or romantical relationship — it is far more likely for mitch to disappear and then return as rapidly as the moon changes. the outer side of her is a shifting tide, never too still, never calm enough for anyone to dive. beyond that layer, however, she is passionate — alive with burning ideals, nursing bravery with seldom any comparison, a protector of those who are defenseless, someone who’s devoted an entire life to the ideal of truth. and yet the choices she’s made, the paths she’s walked in order to get to where her ideals prompted her to be, they have all piled up inside of her: while she’ll appear to have little to no moral compass, little to no care as to the consequences of her own actions, deep within mitch is the harshest of her own critics. she keeps herself busy, constantly moving so that she won’t have to stop and think — reckon with her graveyards of mistakes, deal with her own, deep-seeded self loathing. she’ll much more easily crack a joke instead, defend herself with the use of irony and sarcasm, and at the same time put people to the test, give them the sharpest corners of herself so their allegiance will be proved. but all of this, all her shifting and sharpening nature, it has led to a deep, sometimes unbearable loneliness — it is ever present and still sneaks up on her sometimes, the endless void around her scorched earth, the inability to bridge that gap between her and the rest of the world. perhaps there lies her love for stories: within the distance from her and others, trying to understand them in order to shorten it. but it stays there, separating her from the world, and so self preservation must be the only principle leading her forward. at the end of the day, mitch is as unpredictable as stormy weather: even those who believe they know her, most of the time, only really know the persona she’s allowed them to meet. she can be manipulative, a skilled liar, an unparalleled improviser — perhaps one day she will finally stare in the mirror and ask herself who she really is. positive traits : headstrong, clever, resourceful, brave, protective, witty, open minded, passionate. negative traits : impulsive, proud, self-destructive, fleeting, mutable, unreliable, arrogant, reckless, annoying. ___________

BIOGRAPHY —

trigger warnings : disappearance, death, abuse, child abuse, cults, substance abuse.

red ridge, nv, 1988. pamela rizzo is done with her boyfriend’s antics: never able to hold a job for more than a couple weeks, constantly wasting his pay in booze and boobs and whatever shit he feels like shooting in his own body. her youngest, michela, is two years old; her oldest, tommy, is seven years old: old enough to understand what’s going on. for a while he becomes the man of the house, making sure his little sister is okay when mom comes late from work: for a while, this broken up family makes it work. pamela meets andy novak when mitch is four — four months later they’re married out of a casino’s chapel, and she looks at her kids, bright eyed, and said: see kids? you got a daddy again, now. everything’s gonna change for the better.

red ridge, nv, 1995. everything starts changing for the worse, but none of them can see it yet. there’s two new siblings, jericho and liv, the lovely offspring of the novaks. adjusting to this new family is hard, and mitch sticks around her older brother: he’s good, he’s protective, he watches her back. she picks up from him, her fight and her curiosity and her boyish recklessness — five years apart, yet sometimes they look like twins. she loves her younger siblings, yes, but sometimes she looks at andy’s eyes and remembers this is not my father, and this is not my family, and all i really have is tommy and by tommy i will stand. but over time he gets tired of playing babysitter, one day he simply grabs her and says c’mon mitch, get off my back. don’t you have any friends?

red ridge, nv, 1996. mitch grows restless and reckless, too many hours spent in detention and not enough befriending kids her age. she thinks something’s lacking, a specific code that will allow her to bridge the distance with the other kids: she searches for it in comic books, studying the behavior of characters wondering how a hero is made. she searches for it in other kids, and sometimes she stays out entire afternoons spying on her brother and her friends, wondering what it is that makes people friends, what it is that she’s lacking. that’s when she starts seeing them spending their afternoons in mr. carlow’s house; they say he lets them do some handiwork around the house in exchange for some money, money for tapes, money for gas. tommy comes home full of new stuff every day — one day he brings home a cassette for mitch, jagged little pill. three days later, he goes to carlow’s and never leaves.

red ridge, nv, 1998. thomas j. novak is declared missing on november 1st, 1998. search parties begin, national attention brought to the case. there are errors in the investigation, leads mistakenly pursued. mitch talks to pam, talks to andy, talks to anyone: go to mr. carlow’s, she says, i saw them there. but mr. carlow is an old wealthy man, he’s given more money to the church than the vatican itself: and he was so concerned when they asked him about tommy that he passed out. nobody listens, so tommy isn’t found. they listen to pamela, her face plastered on every news segment, begging for her boy to come home: at night mitch holds her younger siblings close, and fears something will be coming for all of them.

red ridge, nv, 1999. the body of thomas novak, 17 at the time of his disappearance, is found in a ditch three miles out of red ridge, exactly nine months after he was declared missing. the police say he must’ve been trying to leave town when he was robbed, or maybe assaulted, or maybe a coyote got him. nobody seems to have a clear answer, nobody really cares to look for one. pamela finds some comfort in speaking to the nation of her child: every night her face is on tv, until the story of the grieving mother is boring too, and pamela disappears in the background, perhaps like her child did. that’s about the time andy taps into his anger, begins lashing out with his kids, with mitch too. he’s loud, he smells, he comes home and takes it out on the three of them. mitch tries to keep her head up, keep the small ones safe. she keeps yelling, nobody listens. nobody ever fucking listens.

phoenix, az, 2004. she finds another voice. she has parts of tommy that have stayed with her. the curiosity, the bull-headed quest for knowledge. she holds them close to herself, puts them all in the art of the written word, and somehow it gives her a purpose. in her mind remains the need to find an answer, connect the dots around her brother’s disappearance, but they never match to any coherent drawing. still she keeps on, and the moment she becomes a licensed journalist she starts travelling the country chasing stories, chasing mysteries and, above all — chasing answers.

montréal, canada, 2013. red ridge fades in the background, a dull nightmare unwilling to re-emerge to the surface. she finds new stories instead, she drowns in them. good stories, with martyrs and heroes who die for a cause (those are the ones she stares at in admiration, wondering if a good spirit is transmittable via osmosis). she finds bad stories, the ways men will make themselves wolves and devour their young (those are the ones she gets deep in, like the bloody entrails of a carcass, turns them inside out until she can make every accurate comparison between them and herself and say it isn’t me, i have nothing to do with people like this). she builds herself a kingdom of sorts, kings and queens and pawns to turn to in her quest for truth. (she asks favors too, sometimes she finds herself under the thumb of criminals and shady characters who can help her quest along, but will ask things of her: her shining moral character begins darkening now, she begins to understand the battle between good and evil must be fought along the line in between). while investigating a dark, morbid story of murder and finance, she meets priscilla — clever, arrogant, bright. selfish enough to drag her out of her own head when mitch lets her investigations swallow her whole. the two get married in a small ceremony with mostly just colleagues from priscilla’s work at the university — for a while mitch toys with the idea of belonging to someone, of a happy life, of a family, of a home.

sam’s cedar, mo, 2017. it lasts exactly four years, though it began rotting right in the honeymoon phase. colliding characters turning to sparks, the fights far outweighing the good they’d found in each other’s company. the crippling blow comes when a story breaks out about an odd, peculiar cult spreading its venomous tendrils around the plains of missouri. an old friend, head of a mainstream newspaper, says it’s just the kind of report she’d be great at. she finds an odd fascination in the idea of entering the cult, seeing evil from the inside: priscilla, of course, thinks it’s foolish, it’s guerrilla journalism, it’s just the pop culture rendition of what a reporter’s work is supposed to look like. her protests echo in the background still, while mitch packs her car and leaves. five days later she is entering the premises of the cult’s church under the alias of rebecca jean wasserman, knowing that this will change things. never once, for her stories, has she gone this deep: there is a fear within her, as she dyes her hair blond and crafts a new identity, that there will not be a way out.

phoenix, az, 2019. the way out is found by fighting teeth and nails. the way out is found through a dark, morbid journey that spits her out a paler self. her permanence in the cult amounts to eleven months, three weeks, four days: a long time to note down every creepy corner she steps in, every gruesome detail she collects. she sees minds reshaped, she sees crimes committed and barely keeps herself from giving in to the craze like the rest of them. being rebecca wears her out, being rebecca sometimes comes too easy: by the time she’s collected enough material that the point isn’t just an article anymore, but a criminal investigation, she feels herself slipping out of her own mind every night. her reports are so detailed they start a widespread investigation. somehow, she makes it out of the cult into one whole, rotten piece. her reportage gets mitch lennox (the pen name she’d chosen at the beginning, wanting to cut ties to whatever ties michelle novak had been living) two awards, good, it looks, has won over evil. but her mind is frayed, the shadows have come too close sometimes she wonders whether they haven’t gotten in somehow, become a part of her too. at night she lies awake and thinks of tommy: she’s found so many stories, so many villains have been given a name, but her brother’s is still just a ghost story.

red ridge, nv, 2020. sometimes she feels like a pawn on the board of a funny, twisted game. she gets a call one night, about a murder (one in a few) in the town she once badly tried to call a home. by then she’s tired, worn out, overly dependant on liquor and painkillers: but she’s lost herself so tragically she hasn’t thought to look for the pieces of herself back where everything started. she comes back to red ridge on a much too hot day of early may; she wears her identity like a costume, putting on a brave face because red ridge, she knows, has a tendency of swallowing people whole. and she’s been swallowed before, she’s been spat out too. what’s left is a half digested remain of a person. what’s left is someone who’s hungry for truth — and barely has anything to lose anymore.

_____________________

HCS:

when not undercover for any reason, mitch drives a purplish red ‘83 alfa 6 alfa romeo. not the most inconspicuous car, but a piece of her heart nontheless (stolen from her father as a ‘payback for him being a shithead’, or so she says). she had it slightly altered to fit a music cassette player so she could keep listening to the tapes her best friend sent her.

her biological father, lee, is a rather well known drug dealer in red ridge. he’s also, coincidentally, her main drug dealer.

currently, mitch lives in a motel, refuses to go back to her mother’s house, would rather sleep in her car.

she absolutely adores spicy food and has been known to have no chill when it comes to deadly spicy peppers, in fact she’s entered at least a couple competitions for pepper tasting and, though never winning, always managed to come up pretty high on the podium.

she’s almost constantly listening to music (mostly blues or grunge), although her heart belongs to alanis morissette, and evidence of that is her vast collection of concert t-shirts and the many cassettes in her car.

she used to be on the school soccer team but got kicked out after an unfortunate accident with one cheryl d. (the accident being mitch purposefully kicked her in the shins after she called her a psycho bitch).

_____________________

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

below i’ve listed some connections i’d love to get for mitch — if you’re interested in picking any of these up, please don’t be afraid to message me!!

priscilla — mitch’s ex wife was an academic she met while working on an article in montrèal in 2013. they got married a few months after they began dating each other, but it was short lived. their characters don’t match, they just fought constantly, and eventually mitch left to go undercover in a cult / pursue her career. overall their marriage lasted four years, and it’s safe to say they hate each other now, probably barely tolerate one another at best, and it’s unlikely they’ll ever be together again, but i’d love to explore their colliding, nerve-wrecking dynamic. suggested fcs: ruth negga, lupita nyong'o, leslie ann brandt.

jimmy — her best friend, the one person in red ridge who always knows when she’s coming around again. he used to be one of tommy’s closest friends, which brought him and mitch together once tommy was gone. they dated very briefly, eventually found they worked a lot better as friends. they went to college together for a bit there, he, however, eventually quit college around the time mitch graduated. he owns a record store and is the one who provides her with all the tapes she plays in her car. he’s mitch’s person and the one guy in the world she confides everything to (same goes for him, obviously). they’re kind of in a rough patch right now, considering she never told him about her undercover stint and he ended up not hearing from her for about a year. reconnecting with him is also one of the reasons she decided to come back to red ridge. suggested fcs: joshua jackson, jake johnson, john krasinski.

fwbs — clearly mitch isn’t made for stable relationships but she does have her fair share of one night stands and occasional flings. it would be great if it was something that has happened before, maybe while she was still in college and sometimes came home to red ridge.

fwbs from inside valencia — people she could sleep with that might provide information on valencia’s dealings and just generally be fruitful for her career (of course, they could ask favors of her too; it could be as casual or as tense as we want it to be).

affair (tw: cheating) — i’d love love love for her to have a painful sort of affair with someone who’s already in a relationship with someone. something sad, painful, that they both wish they could do without but can’t. gimme angst.

friends — either childhood friends from before she left red ridge or people she’s just meeting again, she needs someone she can have simple fun with, maybe even someone who can tell her to chill the fuck down sometimes.

enemies — there’s a lot of people who just can’t stand mitch at all, so gimme those. people who find her annoying, people from valencia who find her dangerous, old schoolmates who just never got her thing. give me also people who have stuff they can hold over her head, people who can threaten her and that she generally loathes.

friends in low places — mitch makes frequent use of recreational drugs and painkillers, plus her job often needs her to find various sorts of illicit goods (be them heavier drugs, weapons, surveillance equipment, etc). she’d need someone who can provide her with these things, maybe even someone she can be friendly with or something.

#redridgeintro

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writingsofmyimagination · 5 years

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Overtime (One Shot Drabble)

A/N DRABBLE as part of the 1st Anniversary drabble request exchange for the BTSSMUTCLUB.

Scenario: Hiii can I request a “badboy likes shy nerd but shes not sure’ ’ trope with taehyung ? Thanks so much!

Warnings: SMUT, Penetrative sex (Protected), Oral F recieving, swearing.

Word Count:1298

FYI This is awful, saw the request late and have a few other fanfic deadlines so this was a complete panic write! Apologising for the bad editing!

Please Enjoy Though Army!! ( @sibbyjin hope this brightens your evening a little)

Great!

You could have sworn you were working overtime with Jungkook. Apparently you had the pleasure of working with Taehyung this evening; you recognised his Vans bag in the office. You didn’t have a bad working relationship with him or anything you were just different. The difference intimidated you, he was a bad boy with too much confidence and you was just an introverted gamer; it was either that or the fact that he was absolutely stunning and his sex appeal was just too much. You booted up your computer in the admin office before heading down to the sample receipt lab to collect the forms for booking onto the system.

“Evening” Tae beamed way too brightly for 11pm. That box smile genuine and sweet enough to have you in a coma. His lab coat was undone teasing the view of the fitted white shirt that accompanied his snug fitting black jeans. The purple gloved hands were fiddling opening sample bags and separating the paper work from the sample after checking that the details matched, his eyes remained fixed on the work. Probably best considering the risk of getting absorbed into those enticing pools.

“Evening yourself” you replied less enthusiastically taking the pile from the side.

“I didn’t know you was a gamer?” his voice had to chase you as you’d already began your strides towards the door. You turned momentarily perplexed until his head and finger motioned to the direction of your Fortnite t-shirt. Your overtime attire was much less than formal than normal working hours. He would have been used to seeing you in smart trousers or skirts with blouses not a gaming t-shirt with a denim skirt.

“Through and through you?” this provoked his lips to curl up at the sides igniting a slight glimmer in his eyes; excited to see a common interest.

“If I’m not out drinking I’m home button bashing”

“Surprised you find the time with all those women you and Hobi keep talking about” you jested. Well. That comment completely past your filter unchecked, you’d never be that brave unless you were with close friends.

“I’m sorry, that was… harsh” you rushed out, tumbling. He saved you from your internal panic when a small chuckle left his lips.

“Nah, don’t be, that was pretty quick, also didn’t peg you as a sarcastic one” your chest rose with his praise.

“It’s in there somewhere, anyway I better go start on these bad boys” flailing the forms in your hand.

A small tap rattled on the office door, your head turned continuing sipping the tea from your mug. He clicked the door open and peered in, his dark brown hair ruffled at the back.

“You nearly done?” he inquired without sounding pushy.

“Yeah, just! Lab still all intact?”

“What do you take me for? Of course it’s all still in working order” It wouldn’t be the first time he’d broke something or caused some kind of chaos in there.

“Just thought I’d check” At this point he’d come fully into the office as you’d stood to rubber band the paperwork together for filing.

You were too busy shuffling the paperwork in the filing cabinet to notice the door had been locked shut. His quiet stealth had allowed him to be within a breaths distance when you’d turned back round causing your body to wail in surprise.

“What are you doing?” your body screaming at the possibilities, waging a war between your thighs as you recognised the predatory look dancing solo within his eyes.

“Something I’ve been waiting for, for absolutely ages and you’re not going to make the first move” his body pressed yours gently to the cabinet behind you as his lips softly met yours, instantly you were washed away straight out to the deep ocean, immersed in every sensation your body was receiving. His hand cupped sculpting round your face, the other pressing his fingers at your hips, his flush breathing competing with your own oscillating chest. Until you started drowning. You pushed at him, leaving his face contorting in panic and confusion.

“I’m sorry… are you” he began

“No, no just we’re at work!” you lightly scolded. Relief washed onto his face with the cheeky grin returning promptly.

“Okay you’re a senior you know better than me that the chances anyone coming in is minimal and this is” he re-advanced onto you, soft lips peppering at your neck causing sighs escaping from your lips “Hot” he finally finished. There was a pause of all activity as he waited while your mind malfunctioned and rebooted at what was happening.

Your consent given when your hands entwined their way up his neck and locked at the bottom of his hair.

“Good girl” he breathed, the hot air of his breath leaving a trail of goose bumps in the curve of your neck. Barely a minute had passed and your behind was on your desk, your skirt hiked up over the curve of your hip, you’d given yourself access to grip his bare hips and shoulders when you’d rushed his buttons undone. Next was his belt

“Ah, Ladies first” he took your hands and placed them on your desk to support you, your underwear was quickly lost behind you. He pulled underneath your thigh jolting your closer to the edge, one hand flew to cover the wail that flew out.

He was amused, looking up at your through lidded eyes as he sunk to the floor tongue making an appearance at the corner of his mouth.

The moment his lips made contact, your hand shuffled behind you and slipped on the keyboard. Prompting you to grab onto his hair even tighter with your other hand until you readjusted.

You were once again swimming in that blissful ocean, with each flat stripe he licked drew your further and further away from shore. You head rested back on your shoulders with eyes squinted shut you missed the pure carnal sight of him nestled in between your thighs focusing on one thing only. Making you writhe and moan against his tongue.

“Is that good baby?”

“Mmmhmm” you hummed toying your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Want me to stop”

“No” you responded breathily

“Want something better?”

“Uhhhuuh”

“Only when you ask for it nicely” he waited for your answer by agonizing kitten licking your at your clit, fingers only teasing at your entrance.

“Jesus, please!” you whined, seemingly happy with your response you were reward with a heavy kiss.

“You taste soo good you know that” he panted breathily at your ear as you were finally per missed to relieve him of his belt and shoved his trousers down.

The moments he was separated from you sorting a condom out from his back pocket seemed like an age amongst the desperation.

“Seriously Tae!” you scolded through heavy breaths as he was torturing you further running himself through your arousal.

“I’m not sorry” The groan he released when he finally pressed in to was nothing short of an animalistic growl, your nail denting his flawless skin with crescents at his back. Your head dropped to his shoulders, your teeth gripping at the skin when his thrusts picked up speed.

“Right there!” you managed with the coil tightening rapidly at the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck, wait for me” his word flooded out in a pant as his hip movements became jagged, determined to have you crying out his name.

“Fuck” you stilled only tightening your grip on his skin before your body flooded with oxytocin as you cried out more profanities as your climax passed spilling him into his own. The breathy grunts filled the heated air around you.

“I can’t believe I’ve just let you fuck me in the office” you admitted suffering from sweet aftershocks.

#bts #btssmutclub #bscproject #kwritersworldnet #networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet #kpopwonderlandtag #btsguild #taehyung #kim taehyung #Smut

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pug-bitch · 5 years

Text

That’s not why I’m going (37)

Who she’s grown to be

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake Walker x Amara Suarez

Rating: some foul language, some extremely suggestive, and a VERY steamy scene at the very end. This is absolutely NOT appropriate for people under 18.

Word count: about 4,800 (let me know if the ‘keep reading’ cutoff isn’t working well!)

Notes: This picks up right where we left off, as Maxwell goes to pick up Michael, starting with Michael’s POV. This chapter focuses on our main guys, and next time we’ll pick up on what’s happening at the Palace a little bit more… The end of Book 1 is looming :)

Also, today marks my 1st Tumblr anniversary, so I just had to push myself to finish this chapter to post today :) I can’t believe it’s been a year, thank you guys for your ongoing support and friendship <3

*****

Michael’s hands have not stopped shaking, ever since he received Maxwell’s text. He wonders why Amara wasn’t the one to text him. Was it a bad sign? No, he can’t think like that. Maxwell said that she was ready to talk to him, that’s what matters.

He looks in the mirror one last time. He’s wearing a dark green shirt, Sergio’s favorite color on him. He always said it brought out his eyes. He can’t help but notice the bags under them though, he barely slept last night, he just tossed and turned, feeling guilty and responsible.

He tries to regulate his breathing, jagged and nervous, but to no avail. He can’t believe that it’s come to that. From the moment they met, he and Amara had hit it off, sometimes even teaming up to tease Sergio on his little quirks. Michael sighs. What he wouldn’t give to see those quirks again.

His phone buzzes. Maxwell is downstairs, waiting for him in the car. Well, here goes nothing.

*****

Amara paces back and forth in the living room. Hana and Liv, originally waiting with her, were now changing into their bathing suits, as Amara told them to do their thing and enjoy the pool.

She would like Drake to do the same, she is terrified to hold him back and ruin his day. But here he is, patiently waiting near her, sitting in an armchair and watching her pace.

‘You sure you don’t want to sit?’ He asks, with a sad smile.

She shakes her head. She knows she’s ridiculous. It’s her brother-in-law she’s talking about, not someone who wants to torture her and make her suffer. ‘I can’t sit still,’ she says faintly.

Drake smiles once again and holds out his hand for her to take. She closes in the distance between the two of them and puts her hand in his. He squeezes it reassuringly and draws her close, until she’s in his arms. ‘It’s gonna be ok,’ he says softly. ‘You’ll feel better afterwards, I promise you.’

She nods. ‘You’re probably right. It’s just hard to envision. I’ve been running from this for...a while. Then, he said all those things.’ Her words catch in her throat. ‘And then I wanted to disappear. I didn’t think we’d be speaking face to face anytime soon.’

Drake runs his thumb across her palm. ‘I know. But he came all this way to see you for a reason. Besides all the blackmailing shit that he didn’t know anything about. He came because he wanted to reconnect, and perhaps even to apologize for what he said to you.’

Amara gulps with difficulty. She nods, hoping she won’t just burst in tears. She needs to be strong, not the shell of a woman that she was yesterday. She needs to be Detective Suarez again. No, scratch that. She needs to be who she’s grown to be in the past few months, here in Cordonia.

She hears Maxwell’s tires screech to a halt in front of the estate. Her heart nearly stops. Drake squeezes her hand harder. ‘I could stay if you wanted me to,’ he says.

She shakes her head. ‘It’s ok.’ She loves that he’s so thoughtful, but hates that she comes off so weak that he feels the need to protect her. ‘Go enjoy the pool with the girls. I’ll come out when we’re done.’

Drake nods. He holds out his arms, and Amara falls into them. She leans into his hug, smells his shirt for as long as she can, and tears herself away. She needs to be strong. Drake kisses her lips gently and walks outside.

Here goes nothing, she thinks.

*****

Maxwell turns his car off, and looks to Michael next to him, a gentle smile on his lips. Michael is grateful not to be driving here alone in a taxi, where he would have lost his shit and had a complete breakdown. He owes it to Maxwell to conserve just a tad of dignity.

Max asks, ‘Do you want me to come inside with you? I can if you want. Or I can let you go in alone, whatever you’re most comfortable with.’

Michael takes a deep breath. ‘I think I should go in alone. Right? I need to apologize and own up to my shit, so I should face this alone.’ He pauses. ‘But thank you. For everything.’

Maxwell smiles and nods. His phone pings. ‘Oh,’ he says as he reads his texts. ‘Amara is waiting for you in the living room. Drake just texted me.’

Michael nods. ‘Point me to the right direction?’

*****

Amara’s breath catches when she sees Michael appear through the doorway. Her feet almost give out from under her. He looks sad and worried, and she can’t help but notice that he’s wearing a dark green shirt, just like Sergio always said he loved. She can just hear him say ‘Look at my handsome husband,’ as he beams with joy and love.

If any couple ever loved each other, it was Michael and Sergio. The thought fills her eyes with tears. She didn’t mean for them to be apart forever, of course, but she can’t shake the feeling of guilt.

‘Hi kid,’ Michael says faintly, his voice breaking even on two syllables.

Amara’s chin wobbles. ‘Hi Michael.’ She pauses for a long time. ‘Um, you want to take a seat?’

He nods, and walks with her towards the couch. They are sitting so far away from each other that it breaks Amara’s heart.

Michael takes a deep breath. ‘Amara, I’m so sorry,’ he says in a shaky voice.

She can’t hold back her tears now. Hearing him apologize for those words, the words she, herself, had thought so many times. I wish it had been me, Papi, she kept repeating to her dad. How damaging must those words have been to her poor father? She can’t even imagine.

Her chin is now moving with a mind of its own. ‘No, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Michael, of course you were feeling this way, of course you were blaming me. I blame myself, every day.’ She bursts into tears. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Michael closes the distance between them and hugs her with his right arm, letting her head rest on his shoulder. Her tears turn his dark green shirt into black.

His breath is jagged. ‘Amara, stop. It was never your fault. It’s just easier to be angry than to be devastated. It’s no one's fault, except for the man who fired the gun, and he’s behind bars.’ A fat tear rolls down his cheek, and Amara feels her heart shatter. ‘The truth is, you’re my sister. I don’t want to live in a world in which you’re not.’

Amara hugs him tighter. ‘I’m sorry, Michael. We should have shared our grief instead of living it on our own, but I-I needed to punish myself. For being alive, when my brother wasn’t.’ She wipes her cheek. ‘Every morning, as I brushed my teeth, for two years, I replayed the moment…’ she pauses, unable to say the words. ‘And I wished I would have pushed him out of the way. When he leapt in front of me, I should have pushed him. Not let him take the bullet. The bullet was meant for me.’

Michael stays quiet for a while. He sits up straight, and Amara breaks away from his hug, afraid of what he will say next. He takes her hand in his. ‘No. It wasn’t meant for anyone, it was not supposed to happen, not to either of you. Sergio made a decision in a split second, the decision to save his sister. I will be forever pained that he died, and I’ll never be the same. But he saved you in the process. I’m glad he did.’

Amara didn’t think she had any tears left to cry, but she really did. A lot. They all flow out, at once. ‘Michael, I—I’m sorry I’ve avoided you for two years. I wanted to be there for you, I wasn’t strong enough. But now, if… If you want me to, of course, I’d like to be back in your life. In Callie’s life.’

Michael smiles through tears. ‘We would both love that. She misses you. She always says she doesn’t see you enough.’ He chuckles. ‘She says that Christmas is her favorite holiday, because she can see Auntie Amara.’

Amara laughs. ‘I miss her too. I should have been there more, I know Sergio would have wanted me to be around, to watch over her… I’m her godmother, and I completely failed.’

‘You’re here now.’ He smiles. ‘Besides… Even without you or Sergio in her life...she’s all Suarez.’

Amara’s face lights up. ‘I know… she’s like a mini-Sergio. With longer hair.’

Michael laughs. ‘Not to mention the Suarez personality. Stubborn as fuck.’

Amara’s eyes fill with tears again. She catches her head in her hands.

Michael puts an arm around her, worried. ‘Hey, hey, are you ok? Did I say something wrong?’

She shakes her head. ‘No. I’m just—I just feel so guilty for not being in her life. I want to see her grow up.’ She pauses. ‘I really wasn’t there for you, huh?’ She adds with a broken voice.

Michael smiles sadly. ‘No you weren’t. But I wasn’t there for you either. Now I’d like to be able to talk to you about how much I miss my husband without you running away for two years on a bartending retreat.’

Amara swallows back tears and gives Michael an understanding smile. ‘That’s fair.’

He squeezes her hand. ‘But the opposite is true too. You should be able to talk about how much you miss your brother without feeling guilty about me and Callie. We can grieve together, and with Jorge, too. Let’s be a family again, huh?’

Amara smiles broadly through tears and opens her arms to offer Michael a bear hug.

*****

Michael’s heart rests a bit easier, as he and Amara make their way outside to the pool, where they meet the others. All eyes are on them as soon as they’re spotted, and he can’t help but smirk when he sees the protective look on Drake’s face. That guy really looks at Amara like she’s the sun. As he should.

‘Hey guys,’ Amara says to her friends. ‘This is Michael.’

She gestures at him and Michael waves. ‘Hi everyone. Thanks for having me. I just wanted to say hello before I’m on my way.’

Drake and Maxwell get out of the water in a haste, but Michael can’t help but notice the wildly different vibes they give off. Maxwell is all smiles and is giving them a hopeful look, while Drake makes a run for Amara and wraps his arm around her, not caring that he’s dripping pool water everywhere. Drake asks Amara, ‘Are you ok?’ as he kisses the top of her head.

She nods. ‘Yes, we’re good.’

Drake’s face lights up and he enthusiastically shakes Michael’s hand. He can’t believe how much his demeanor has changed. He says ‘Hi Michael, I’m Drake, it’s nice to finally meet you. Amara’s told me so much about you.’ His eyes are kinder now, less defensive.

‘Nice to meet you too, Drake,’ he responds. ‘Thanks for looking out for my sister.’

‘Awwwwww,’ Maxwell squeals, ‘sister? So, I take it you guys talked it through?’

Amara smiles and rolls her eyes. ‘Yes, Max, we’re doing better. I guess it was long overdue, huh?’ She turns to Michael.

‘I guess.’ He holds out his arms and gives Amara a hug. ‘I should go. I don’t want to intrude on your pool day.’

Maxwell gives Amara a quizzical look, and she nods. Max enthusiastically grabs Michael by the shoulders and says, ‘No way, my friend. You’re not going anywhere, there’s plenty of room here for you. Right, Bertrand?’

A slightly older, serious-looking man gets up from a chaise longue. He’s wearing very long, brown swimming trunks, with a brocade pattern on them. He approaches Michael and shakes his hand. ‘Of course you can stay here, if you wish. I’m Bertrand Beaumont, nice to meet you.’

‘Nice to meet you too, Bertrand.’

Amara puts her hand on Michael’s arm, and gently says, ‘Duke Ramsford.’

Michael’s eyes widen. Shit, he thinks, he didn’t even think about that. ‘I’m so sorry, Duke—‘

‘No, no,’ Bertrand chuckles. ‘We’re among friends, Amara, come on. Bertrand is fine. Make yourself at ease, join us!’

Michael walks towards the rest of the group, and Amara introduces him to the two ladies. The redhead who helped her out last night is called Olivia, she gives him a firm handshake. The other young woman seems much gentler and has kind eyes, she instantly hugs him.

‘I’m sorry, everyone, I don’t seem to be dressed for the occasion…’ Michael looks down at his outfit, definitely not appropriate for a poolside day.

Maxwell laughs excitedly. ‘Well, you couldn’t possibly know you’d end up in a pool with us. How about I call the hotel and have your things sent here?’

Michael nods. ‘That would be really nice of you, but um… that doesn’t solve the swimsuit problem. I didn’t bring one.’ He smiles awkwardly, kicking himself mentally for not thinking of every possible scenario. He’s usually so good at this. Packing is his shit.

Max waves him off. ‘That’s ok! There’s plenty of clothes here.’ He looks at him intently. ‘I’m assuming we’re more or less the same size. Would you be opposed to borrowing a swimsuit?’

Michael chuckles, both grateful and embarrassed. In less than a day, he has managed to impose his presence in a foreign country, and bothered the nobility so much that they have to pay for his hotel room, and lend him a swimsuit. Great job, Mike.

Maxwell guides him upstairs, where he shuffles through his closet. ‘Sorry,’ he says, ‘I have so many unwearable things. I like colorful clothes, and animal prints, and you seem like you’re a lot classier than me!’ Maxwell adds.

Michael smiles. ‘Please. I have absolutely zero style, I dress for comfort. Anything will do.’

Maxwell nods, and hands him a swimsuit with a discreet fish pattern. ‘Will this be ok?’

‘Yeah, that’s perfect. Thanks for everything, Maxwell.’

‘Oh stop. Anything for Amara. I’m so glad you guys worked it out.’

Michael smiles and sighs in relief. ‘I know. I thought for sure she would never talk to me again. She and I have a lot of work to do to heal, but… I’m hopeful.’ He smiles peacefully.

Maxwell nods enthusiastically. ‘That’s great. I can already see a difference in Amara. Her nightmares are still there, and she had a panic attack a few days ago, because of me really…’ He trails off. ‘But all in all, she’s able to talk about her grief more and more. It’s good to talk about it.’ Maxwell smiles. ‘Drake had a good idea, actually. He told Amara that she should, once in a while, when the mood strikes… talk about Sergio, but not about what happened to him. Just talk about who he was, the things he used to do, or tell a funny anecdote. I think it’s helping her remember him without the guilt.’ Maxwell takes one more step towards Michael. ‘You should try. If you want.’

Michael gulps down hard. He nods absentmindedly. He’s talked about Sergio a lot, with Jorge, Nancy, and especially with Callie, so she knows how amazing her daddy was. But randomly, just a silly little anecdote… he hadn’t been able to do that yet. All his memories of Sergio were weighed down by the grief. ‘I’d like to, Maxwell. But I don’t know if I can.’

Maxwell gives him a reassuring smile, more benevolent than Michael’s ever seen. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean now, with an almost-stranger! In your own time. When it feels right.’ He pauses. ‘Alright, let’s go have fun at the pool.’ They both turn towards the door and Maxwell exclaims. ‘Oh! I almost forgot to ask you. If Amara is ok with it, would you like to come to the Decision Ball tonight?’

The Decision Ball? What an odd tradition, really, it sounds like something out of the Bachelor. Sash Guy was really taking advantage of the tradition. ‘Would I be welcome?’ he asks.

‘Of course. I can bring you as my plus one,’ Maxwell responds. ‘You know, because Amara can’t bring one, since she’s supposed to…’ he makes air quotes with his fingers, ‘“court” the freaking prince.’

Michael bursts out laughing. ‘That sounds good. If Amara wants me there, I’ll be happy to come. But um…’ He thinks of his suitcase, probably on its way from the hotel right now, full of lawyery outfits and drab colors. ‘I’m not sure I have an appropriate outfit. I packed suits, of course, but after seeing how stylish everyone is at court…’

Maxwell’s face lights up. ‘Michael. You’ve seen my closet. There’s more than enough for two in there.’

*****

Amara is lying in Drake’s arms, both floating around in the pool. Drake is lazily stroking her hair. He’s amazed at her, her strength, her resilience, her forgiveness. He knows where Michael is coming from, of course he gets it. The man is grieving for the love of his life, so he said something he didn’t mean. Something awful, something he probably lies awake thinking about every night and regretting. This kind of shit happens in families when tragedy strikes. But it happened to his Amara. And Drake cannot take the idea of her suffering.

He’s happy she and Michael talked it out. He seems like a sweet guy, who cares deeply about his sister-in-law. In spite of everything, Drake is happy he’s here. He can’t wait to discover everything about Amara’s world.

‘You ok, babe?’ he asks.

She nods and smiles, tightening her grip on him. She plants a kiss on his lips. ‘I’m fine. Thanks for being there for me. I’m happy he’s here, now. I’m happy you guys can get to know each other.’

Drake smiles. ‘I’m so fucking proud of you, Suarez.’ He kisses her again, this time lingering longer.

‘Gross,’ Liv says with a disgusted expression on her face.

Drake rolls his eyes. ‘Sorry, just expressing feelings, Nevrakis. Next time you’re making out with Rashad, I’ll hang around and tell you that you’re gross.’

She snorts. ‘Except that we’re hot. You guys are so lovey dovey, it’s repulsive. Keep it in your pants.’

Amara laughs, and Drake’s heart flutters. Last night, when her PTSD flared up, he wasn’t sure how long it’d be until he heard her laugh again. But that’s the thing with Amara. She’s like a fucking phoenix.

Once Liv has turned around to swim with Hana, Drake holds Amara tighter. ‘I can’t wait til everything is over. Go on dates with you. Cook together.’

‘Or better yet,’ Amara adds, ‘you cook, and I watch you.’

He laughs. ‘Yeah, that’s what I meant. Although your baking skills are on point.’

She smiles. ‘Thank you. I can’t wait for all of this either. We can go on trips, wherever we want, and we can finally focus on finding your sister.’

Drake kisses Amara’s neck. ‘You’re amazing. Fuck, I wish we could skip this dumb ball.’

‘Me too,’ she says wistfully, ‘but it would mean that those bitches win. They didn’t break any of us, see?’ she gestures at Liv and Hana. ‘Our friends are standing taller than ever, and me...well, they haven’t broken me yet.’

Drake smiles. That’s his Suarez. He notices Max and Michael walking back from inside the house, and Michael is now wearing one of Max’s swimsuits. Thankfully, it’s not one of the ones with glitter.

‘Hey guys,’ Drake yells out, gesturing for them to approach. ‘Come on in!’

Michael offers him a shy smile. Drake wonders if he’d been too cold before. He couldn’t help but be protective of Amara. The two men join them in the pool. Maxwell, who usually does a backflip everytime he goes into the water, is suprisingly calm.

‘Nice bathing suit,’ Amara says.

‘Ha, thanks,’ Michael replies, ‘Maxwell lent it to me.’

Maxwell waves him off. ‘It suits you better than it suits me. Little Blossom, before I forget, I told Michael he could be my plus one tonight at the ball, is it ok with you?’

Amara smiles. ‘Of course. That would be great. One more friendly face in court.’

Maxwell claps his hands in excitement. ‘Awesome! I’m gonna grab my phone and contact the Palace to make the arrangements. Be right back!’

He waddles away. Drake’s eyes meet Michael’s. He realizes he has no idea what to say to break the ice. Is it too noncommittal to ask him about his trip? Nevermind, he’s going in. ‘So, Michael,’ he says, ‘I hope Cordonia’s not treating you too badly.’

Michael chuckles. ‘Well, I had a rocky start, as you know, but it’s all better now.’ He pauses. ‘I’m sorry if it’s too personal, don’t feel like you have to answer, but I have to ask--how come you have an American accent?’

Drake smiles. ‘I’m from Texas,’ he replies, ‘My mom is American and I spent a lot of time there. Some full years in my early childhood, plus all my summers growing up.’

Michael’s eyes widen. ‘No way! I lived in Texas when I was little, too! My parents had a small firm in Austin.’

Amara laughs. ‘I can’t believe I never made the connection. Drake loves talking about his family ranch in Texas, Michael, you’re in for a treat.’

Drake gently nudges her arm in mock outrage. ‘Hey!’ he says, ‘why don’t you go ahead and say I’m a broken record?’

‘DRAKE!!!’ Maxwell screams from the patio.

Drake’s heart leaps in his chest -- what did he find out when he called the palace? ‘What’s wrong, Max?’ he asks worriedly.

Maxwell trots to the pool. ‘I forgot to get more food and we have no staff. What are we gonna do for lunch? I need your help!’

Drake rolls his eyes. ‘Max, you scared the shit out of me. You have a ton of food around the house, we’ll put something together.’ He turns to Amara and kisses her on the lips. ‘I need to go save the day, Suarez. I’ll be back.’

*****

‘Suarez?’ Michael smirks.

Amara chuckles. ‘Yeah yeah, laugh all you want.’

Michael shakes his head and gets closer to her, now both sitting on the steps in the pool. ‘No, I wasn’t making fun. In fact, it’s painfully cute.’

Amara stares at her feet, feeling a mixture of pride and embarrassment. Her brotherly figure is about to question her about her relationship, she can feel it. ‘Thanks. I hope you and Drake have time to get to know each other a bit while you’re here.’

Michael nods. ‘He seems like a good guy. And for what it’s worth, it’s been a while since I’ve seen this spark in your eyes when you look at a guy.’ He snorts. ‘No, scratch that. I’ve never seen this spark in your eyes.’

Amara laughs wholeheartedly. She knows what he means. ‘You’re right. I mean, remember how tepid I felt about Rick?’

‘Poor Rick,’ Michael teases. ‘He was crazy about you, and you were like...meh.’

‘Come on. I thought it was love,’ Amara shrugs. ‘I thought that was it, you know. And then…’ she debates whether or not she should talk about the rest, and decides to go for it. ‘And then, when everything happened, I realized he was literally the last person I wanted by my side to comfort me.’ She studies her toes intently, avoiding eye contact by staring at the nail polish that she bought with Hana. ‘I chose to be alone over being with Rick. Now, everything’s different. I find myself…’ she stops.

Michael looks at her, but she doesn’t meet his gaze. ‘Yeah?’ he asks.

She continues. ‘I find myself wanting to share everything with Drake. The good, the bad, everything. His shit, my shit, I want it all in the same baggage and I wanna carry it together.’ She takes a deep breath and meets Michael’s eye. ‘Is that dumb?’

He bursts out laughing and nudges her arm with his elbow. ‘Dumb? Kid, that’s life. That’s love. Nothing dumb about that.’

*****

Everyone had gathered around the table to enjoy the feast carefully prepared by Drake, with Maxwell’s help. Michael was deep in a conversation with Hana, who was asking him questions about his most interesting cases. Amara was seated between Drake and Olivia, her heart finally resting easy, after so many weeks --months, even-- of running around. Of running away.

She takes a bite of her meal, enjoying all the flavors of the stuffed zucchini that her boyfriend prepared for everyone. She turns to Drake. ‘Walker, this is delicious as fuck.’

He chuckles. ‘Right? My dad’s recipe. I knew you’d like it.’

She smiles. ‘I love it.’

He inches closer to her and whispers, ‘You look super relaxed. I’m so happy to see you like this.’

‘I feel relaxed. Being here with all of you… I’m almost forgetting that in a few hours, we’ll be back to business with this shitshow of a ball. Right now, I don’t even care.’

Drake smiles. ‘Me neither.’

She raises her eyebrow and whispers in his ear, ‘After lunch, you wanna meet me upstairs and help me get dressed?’

She can feel his pulse quicken, as she holds his hand. ‘Fuck yeah,’ he says softly. ‘Although I’m not sure how efficient I’ll be at getting you dressed.’

*****

Drake closes the bedroom door behind him. Even though he sleeps next to her every night, and makes love to her every day, his heartbeat quickens every time he’s alone with her. He knows that tonight, they’ll probably be free of her commitment to the competition. But he’s learned to be cautious, especially with all the curve balls thrown their way. So, he’s inclined to enjoy the moment as it is, right here, right now, with the woman he loves.

He clicks on the lock, force of habit. He closes in the distance between the two of them and she kisses him deeply. His hands frame her face, her delicate features that he loves so much. He can’t get enough of kissing her.

She tugs at his T-shirt, until it’s over his head, and then on the floor. She kisses him again, all the while running her hands all over his torso. He follows her lead and slips his hands under her sundress, where he finds her bikini top. He slides the straps off, and runs his hands over her breasts. God, her breasts. He feels his shorts get tighter and tighter.

As if she’s reading his mind, she unbuttons them, and in one swift motion, gets him out of them. He lets out a faint groan as he feels her hand on his hard cock.

*****

She wants him so bad, she doesn’t know if she can wait any longer. She doesn’t know what did the trick the most -- seeing him all chef-y and proud of his food creation, seeing him in his swimsuit, or simply being close to him. Maybe all three.

Without breaking their kiss, she throws him on the bed, and promptly straddles him. Without missing a beat, he gets her out of her bikini bottom, and draws her closer. She grinds on his hard cock, forcing herself to wait a bit before riding him. They’ll run out of time soon, they’ll need to be at that stupid ball she gives zero fucks about, but for now, the world will have to wait until she’s done having sex with Drake Walker, thank you very much. This man has been there for her, has loved her like no man ever has before, for all these action-packed weeks, so the world can wait.

He breaks their kiss for one second. She’d almost be mad, she misses his lips already, except that he only stopped kissing her to tell her he loves her. ‘I love you too,’ she whispers in urgency. That does it. She can’t wait.

They both let out a low groan as she guides his hard cock into her, and as he enters her slowly. ‘Fuck,’ he groans. ‘You feel so good.’

She rides him slowly and deeply, his hands all over her body, her back, her breasts, her ass, her legs. ‘Fuck, Amara,’ he whispers, ‘I can’t get enough of you.’

She can’t either, she thinks. She’ll never get enough of him.

*****

Taglist:

@drakeandcamilleofvaltoria @jovialyouthmusic @andy-loves-corgis @mariahschoices @drakesensworld @thequeenofcronuts @notoriouscs @drakewalkerisreal @nikkis1983 @simsvetements @alesana45 @iplaydrake @emceesynonymroll @lily1999love @drakewalkerwhipped @drakxwalker @drakewalkerrosenberg @drakeswalkers @drakelover78 @silviasutton1989 @dcbbw @carabeth @furiousherringoperatortoad @hollygirl1269 @sirbeepsalot @ladyangel70 @thisperfectmemory @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @mrsmairstanley

Thank you for your encouragements, everyone! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

#that's not why i'm going #drake x amara #drake walker x amara suarez #drake walker #amara suarez #dramara #drake walker trr #drake trr #drake x mc #trr drake #drake walker x mc #choices trr #trr fanfic #choices fanfiction #the royal romance fanfic

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hot-tae-with-suga · 5 years

Text

This Looks Bad || 2

Summary: Taehyung and I were just horsing around, but someone took a picture, and now everyone thinks I’m cheating on my boyfriend Namjoon with one of his best friends. Which I’m not, because I don’t (let myself) think of Tae that way. And neither does Namjoon. Right?

Reader (1st person unnamed femme OC)/Namjoon/Taehyung

Idol AU

36.2K total || Rated M || Part 1 | Part 3 (final) | AO3 || Masterlist

Genre: fluff / smut / angst with happy ending || Warnings: Misunderstandings, Failure to Communicate, Bisexual characters, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Threesome, Smut

Originally Posted 2019-03-27

Thank you so so so much to my editor S, and my wonderful betas from the JAG discord (L, V, and D)

27 Days P.I. (2 days post sleepover)

The morning after the impromptu sleepover had been rushed, both boys needing to get back to the dorms before taking off for their scheduled events that day, so I’d stayed quiet about what I’d heard them talking about. I’d given Namjoon a kiss goodbye, and waved to Tae who was hesitant to give me a hug even after having spent the night cuddled up with me like a koala.

I’d wondered if it was the last time I’d see them.

I waited all day for a text or a call from Namjoon telling me that we were over, wondering the whole time where we had gone wrong. I’d thought we were back to a good place, but he really seemed to think there was something between Tae and I, or at least the potential for something between us, and he was talking about me not being his girl anymore.

Every time I took a break from my work, which was more often that I really should have, I read back over our conversations from the last few weeks, trying to pinpoint when he’d lost interest in me. The earlier conversations were more painful, remembering how distant we’d been. The simple exchanges of “hey, you busy?” followed by “yeah, let me call you later” when I knew that no call had come made me wonder if I’d pinpointed the start of our prolonged break up. But things had become better in more recent exchanges, we were both obviously more engaged and actually talking about our days in multiple word sentences. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out where we were going wrong, unless Namjoon had been making one last ditch effort to save the relationship, but had ultimately decided it wasn’t worth saving.

I was more than a little surprised when Namjoon called me the next morning, saying that since my visit the week before had gone unnoticed, management was cool with my coming over again. This time instead of stopping at the dorm, I went straight to his studio, where he told me he’d been working until mid-afternoon. I wore my hat, mask, and dark glasses, but I didn’t bother with any evasive maneuvers on my trip this time. I told myself it was because I was confident I wouldn’t be noticed going into the large office building, but deep down I thought it would be the last time, so it wouldn’t really matter if I got spotted. The whole world already seemed to think that Namjoon had dumped me, I was just waiting for him to actually do it.

I knocked on the door to the studio, but punched in the code and walked in a moment later, assuming Namjoon would have his headphones on and wouldn’t hear me. Instead I was surprised to find Hoseok and Taehyung on the beige couch, Namjoon sitting in his chair to talk with them. Sweatpants and oversized t shirts were the uniform of the day, and both Hobi and Tae had headbands on; all of them looked a bit tired so I assumed they’d just finished up with dance practice.

The door had been an effective sound barrier, the music they were listening to suddenly washed over me. I recognized the beat as one Namjoon had played for us the week previous, but now there was a melody soaring over it, making it sound more complete.

All three guys looked up as I walked in, and Hoseok jumped up to give me a quick hug. “Hey, Hobi,” I greeted him with as much cheerfulness as I could manage. “Sorry if I’m interrupting, I thought Namjoon would be on his own.” Obviously Hobi didn’t know what was about to happen, he’d always been a terrible liar and I’d have seen it on his face.

“No no, we’ve been expecting you,” Hoseok brushed off my apology. He stepped back to let Joon give me a hug as well.

“Hey, babe,” he murmured. He sat in Hobi’s now-empty spot on the couch and pulled me down to sit in his lap. Hoseok shrugged and dropped into Namjoon’s chair, spinning slowly as he relaxed.

The song playing came to an end and looped back to the beginning again, but Hobi reached around and hit the keyboard, pausing it. “It sounds good,” I commented. I got a nod of thanks, but their discussion picked back up, talking about the theme of the comeback and how all the new songs were shaping up. I tried to relax in Namjoon’s hold, but I was still on edge, knowing that as soon as they were done talking and we were alone, I’d become a single woman. Maybe. I was pretty sure, anyway.

Taehyung seemed to notice how I was pulling at the sleeves of my shirt, the hems nearly destroyed by my fidgeting. He reached over and grabbed my hand, stilling it. I looked up and met his eyes, his expressive eyebrows pulled together in a silent question, asking if I was okay. I drew my lips tight, a sad approximation of a smile, and his frown deepened.

“Anyway, I’m meeting Jin-hyung to practice some more,” Hoseok wa saying, standing up. “I’ll see you guys later.” With that, he was gone. I stared at the closed door, not yet wanting to be alone with these two men in particular.

None of us moved, and I stared off into space until Tae squeezed the hand he still held. “Noona, are you okay?” he asked sweetly, and I felt my chest contract.

“Babe?” Namjoon asked when I didn’t answer Taehyung right away, twisting us both so that he could see my face. Tears welled up, but I sniffled and managed to blink them away before they fell.

“I-” I started, choking on the words. “I just- My anxiety is really bad today.” Not a lie, then, but not the whole truth.

“Has the date been set for your defense?” Joon questioned. “When is it, I can see if my schedule is free. I’d like to be there for you.”

Hearing the empty promise of a future event he had no actual plans to attend pulled a sob from me, shaking my whole body enough that Namjoon could feel it, holding me as close as he was.

“Oh babe, don’t cry! It’ll be okay, you’ll do great. You’re the smartest person I know, you know that? And you know your shit backwards and forwards,” he tried to comfort me, but I just shook my head at his words.

Taehyung, who was still holding my hand, reached to grab the other as well. “I am sure you will blow them away,” he said earnestly. I pulled my hands from his, wiping the backs of them across my cheeks where I felt a couple of tears falling.

“I think we need to get her mind off of it,” Namjoon suggested to Taehyung. “You up for, uh, helping out?” I watched Tae nod, an odd flush creeping over his soft cheeks.

I sniffled again, shaking my head. “No, I’ll be okay,” I lied. Neither of them seemed to heed me, both standing up and gathering their coats before pulling me with them. We took a car back to the dorm, finding the place empty of other members.

“Come on, lets just go watch something in our room,” Namjoon suggested, pulling me and Tae along with him. I’d resigned myself to this fate, of drifting along after him until he finally cut me loose.

They turned on a variety show on one of their laptops, setting it at the foot of Namjoon’s bed while the three of us settled near the head. I looked at the screen but wasn’t paying much attention, and Namjoon kept sending me glances when I didn’t laugh at the big jokes. At the second break for commercials, he crawled over and shut the computer, moving it to his bedside table.

He sat back down facing me, and asked Taehyung, “You up for plan B? This obviously isn’t cheering her up enough.”

Tae nodded, and before I could ask what ‘Plan B’ was, Joon was leaning into me, his mouth hot on mine and his body pressing me backwards. I was too shocked to do anything, even when my back hit Taehyung. I reached one arm behind me to brace myself, not wanting to fall into the other man.

I wasn’t even kissing Namjoon back yet when he pulled his mouth away, but stayed close, smiling at me fondly, and I felt my heart swell. Then he leaned over me awkwardly, over my shoulder, and kissed Taehyung.

I tried not to stare, but they were literally kissing right in front of my face. It was odd, seeing the mouth I was so accustomed to kissing, that tongue that appeared in my dreams, pressed against someone else. Someone with a sharp jawline, with a larger nose, with faint stubble above his lip, with lips that parted easily and quickly as I watched. The two mens’ mouths slid over each other fluidly, so much smoother and less awkward than the kiss Namjoon and I had just shared.

My heart sank again, my chest tightening. As hot as it was, as beautiful as they may have been together, I was so confused and still feeling heartbroken.

“So, what…?” I asked, almost sorry to see them break apart as soon as they heard me. “You guys were going to, what, let me watch you make out to distract me?” I was pulling at straws, but I couldn’t think of one logical reason they’d be doing this.

Namjoon smiled at me again. “Not exactly what we had planned, but if that’s what will get your mind off of things, we can do that for you,” he offered. “However, I had been thinking that it’s your turn to kiss our Taehyungie.”

I started to wonder if I was suffering from some kind of brain damage, considering how often my brain ceased to function when my boyfriend spoke in the last month or so. I looked back over my shoulder, trying to see if Taehyung was hearing this insanity as well, but he was smiling at me, that boxy grin splitting his face. He somehow looked excited.

“You want me? To kiss Taehyung?” I repeated, both asking for clarification and explanation. My head felt like it was on a swivel, looking from one face to the other and back again.

Namjoon nodded. “I mean, what’s hotter than two hot people kissing, right?” he argued. “And I think that between the two of us, we can keep your mind off of whatever is making you anxious.”

I was still in shock, still processing and trying to figure out what was going on when Namjoon leaned toward me again, cupping my cheek in one large hand, and kissed me again. His lips were soft this time, no tongue seeking entry into my mouth, just a simple press of his lips against mine. As he pulled away, the hand on my cheek turned my face, and when I opened my eyes again, Taehyung was there.

“You want this, Tae-ah?” I asked quietly, never breaking our gaze. He nodded slowly, licking his lips.

Neither of us breathed for a moment, our eyes locked on each other, until from my peripheral I saw hands reach out and suddenly our faces were being pushed closer together.

Our initial clash was painful due to outside forces, lips getting caught between two sets of teeth and noses smooshing into each other. I pulled back on instinct, fighting against Namjoon’s hand on the back of my head. Turning, I glared at him. “This isn’t some punishment on a variety show, Joon,” I scolded. I turned back to Taehyung and saw his face fall, as though he thought I didn’t want to me kissing him. I could admit to myself that I did want to, since Namjoon had requested it, after all.

Rather than chew Namjoon out for his clumsy and heavy handed attempts at moving us along, I raised my hand to the back of Tae’s neck and pulled him toward me again, this time much more gently. I could feel him pause for a moment, in shock, maybe, before he opened his mouth to mine.

At first Taehyung was hesitant, only daring to slide his tongue into my mouth once I had swept mine through his. As the kiss continued, and it did continue for what felt like ages, he grew bolder, shifting us so that he was above me and pressed me down and back against Namjoon in a echo of what Joon had done earlier. I let myself get lost in the sensations, it had been a long time since I’d kissed anyone other than Namjoon, and it was one hell of a first kiss. His lips were thinner than Joon’s, tongue less dexterous perhaps, but he liked to bite and nibble at my lips, which sent shivers of arousal down to my core.

I felt Namjoon behind me, sliding his arms around my waist and resting his hands there while he kissed the back of my neck, then he began to slide his hands lower to fumble with the buttons at the fly of my jeans. I reached down to still his hand, trying to tell him without words that he was moving too fast. He stopped fiddling with the buttons, instead gathering the hem of my shirt and guiding it up my torso. Not quite as slow as I had been aiming for, but it was better than my pants coming off.

After he pulled my shirt off my arms, Namjoon backed away, and Taehyung slipped his arms around my now bare waist, twisting us both until I was lying beneath him on the bed. He laid hot kisses all over, from my mouth, to my collarbones, to that sensitive spot behind my ear. The whole time he couldn’t stop talking between kisses, telling me how beautiful I was and how long he had wanted to touch and kiss me.

I let myself start to enjoy the feelings he was eliciting in me, kissing him back and running my hands into his hair. My mouth left a darkening bruise against the honey coloured skin of his neck, and he moaned, his voice low, and I practically felt the vibrations in my chest. He pulled away from me only long enough to tear his own shirt over his head before returning his mouth to my body. I looked for Namjoon, finding him sitting not far from us, palming his cock through his pants and smiling fondly.

Seeing Namjoon’s hardness made me curious, so I rolled my body against Taehyung’s, and sure enough he was also sporting an impressive erection. He moaned when my hip rubbed against it, and let himself relax a bit and press me more firmly in to the mattress. His hand slid up to cup my breast, thumb flicking across the nipple that was already stiffened under the lace of my bra. I arched against him again to urge him to continue, my breath coming hard, and my hand was drawn toward the waist of his pants. I was pulling open the fly of his trousers and swallowing a groan when my thoughts caught up with me.

Suddenly, my throat constricted and my stomach rolled, the panic of the situation finally breaking through the haze of lust. I wasn’t really going to have sex with my boyfriend’s roommate/close friend/former lover while said boyfriend watched, was I? My mind was racing, and obviously Tae could feel how I stiffened up because he pulled back and looked at my face.

“Noona?” he asked softly, his voice full of concern, and it almost broke me.

“I-” My voice broke, unable to find the words I needed to reassure him, my breath coming too fast. Taehyung lifted himself off of me, freeing me of his weight pinning me to the bed. I ran my hands through my hair, anxiously pushing it out of my face before covering my burning face with my palms.

“Are you okay, babe?” Namjoon asked softly from beside us. He leaned over so I could see his eyes, actually looking like he was concerned for me, as he brushed a rogue strand of hair from my face. “We can slow down, or even stop, if this is too much for you.”

“What-” I started to ask, then sat up and tried again, still feeling breathless. “What exactly are we stopping, Joon? What is going on?”

Namjoon sighed, tilting his head to look at both Taehyung and I, both of us shirtless, flushed, and still breathing harder than normal, though not for the same reason. “I just- I know you two like each other, and I wanted, I still want, for you to be happy, to be happy together, like you want.” He leaned forward and kissed me softly, and the tear welled up in my eyes again.

He wanted me to be happy, maybe, but happy with Taehyung instead of with him. His words from the other night as well as some things he’d said a week previously suddenly made sense in my mind.

Namjoon was done with me, that much was clear. Like he said, I was his girl for now, but it didn’t have to stay that way, and for some reason he thought the best way to get rid of me was to...was to pass me on to his friend? Like I was some kind of toy that he was done playing with, so now I was hand-me-downs to his little brother?

I pushed Taehyung back, getting him out of my way as I scrambled off the bed, my face burning with shame. I spotted the bright fabric of my shirt near the end of the bed and grabbed it before I ran out of the room.

Rushing down the hall, I fumbled with the thin piece of clothing, trying to turn it right side out. I heard footsteps behind me, but I wasn’t sure who was chasing after me and didn’t really care at the moment, not wanting to face either of them.

The tears still filling my eyes, plus the temporary blindness of pulling my shirt over my head as I stepped into the living room area, meant I missed the fact that there were now other people in the dorm. A couple of the guys, I didn’t really look to see which ones, stood in the kitchen and another was on the couch, watching me storm past them and kick off my slippers, searching for where I’d put my shoes when we’d arrived.

“Babe,” Namjoon spoke just before I felt his hand grab my arm. “Babe, come on, talk to me. Tell me what’s really wrong, please?” I ignored him, still searching for my things in the disorder of the entryway. “Look, it was too fast, I’m sorry, I get it, please just talk to me.”

I twisted, pulling my arm out of his grasp. Trying to keep my voice down, to keep our conversation from reaching the others, I hissed, “Fuck you, Kim Namjoon. You don’t get to do that to me and then pretend not to know what’s wrong.”

He shook his head, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “I don’t- Babe, I honestly don’t know what’s wrong, unless you tell me. I know things got really intense in there, it could be any of a million things.”

I finally looked up at him, noting the honest confusion on his face. He didn’t realize I’d figured out what he was doing, what he had planned for me. “You need to grow some fucking balls. For someone who is supposed to be so good with words, you should be able to tell me that you’re tired of me, and be honest with me, instead of trying to hand me down to one of your members like I am some kind of toy you don’t want to play with anymore.” He had the audacity to look shocked, and it only fueled me. “You think you’re being kind, or something, but getting Tae to fuck me because you don’t want to anymore is just...ugh.”

My hands were balled into fists at my sides and it took everything in me not to start wailing and beating his chest. He made me so mad, and I felt so betrayed, I couldn’t look at him anymore. I turned around again, finally spotting my shoes sticking out from under the small shelf that held everyone’s slippers. Shoving my feet into them, I felt the angry tears finally start to fall down my face. I hated crying, hated that any strong emotion could bring me to the point of tears, and I was overwhelmed by a mixture of strong emotions as I looked back toward Namjoon, still standing between me and the rest of the dorm.

Taehyung stood behind him now, still shirtless, pants still undone, but holding my purse and phone in his hands. I must have brought them into their room but obviously forgot to grab them when I stormed out.

I stepped closer, reaching past Namjoon for Tae to hand me my things. “Babe, you’ve got it all wrong,” Namjoon was trying to convince me, but I shut him out. Taehyung passed me my purse and phone, and I slipped the latter into my pocket. “Baby, please, don’t go,” Tae gave me that look, where he pressed his lips together and the corners of his mouth turned up but it wasn’t a smile. That look the meant ‘I get it, I wish there was something I could do, I’m sorry’ all at once. His sad eyes met mine briefly before I spun back around and walked out the door.

30 Days P.I. (3 days after aborted threesome)

I felt my phone buzz somewhere under me, but couldn’t be bothered to find it in the mess of blankets I was cocooned in. I’d spent the 60 or so hours previous wallowing, going over everything that had happened, and feeling sorry for myself.

My best friend in the city (who wasn’t an idol), Lee Ji Soo, had come by to bring me ice cream and hold my hand for a while, but she has other things to do, and it’s not like I could be completely honest about what had happened. She’d politely respected my privacy after the whole scandal had broken, knowing that even though I was publically dating a member of Bangtan, I still couldn’t talk about details. Ji Soo’s keen mind and sharp intuition had put two and two together when I called her up, sobbing into the phone and asking why he didn’t want me anymore, though, so she’d rushed to be by my side. The text was probably from her, checking to make sure I hadn’t literally drowned in my own tears.

The buzzing came again, not the short one to remind me that I had a new message, but the longer one, accompanied by the annoying chirp of my messaging app that meant I had another new text. I’d muted both Namjoon and Tae, not even opening their chats, I just wasn’t ready to deal with them yet.

Grumbling to myself, I levered my top half off the bed and pawed through the folds of the fuzziest blanket I owned until I spotted the offending piece of technology. Collapsing back into my nest, I checked the screen to see who was impatient enough to message me twice in the span of two minutes.

To my surprise, Jung Hoseok’s name topped the first alert. If it had been one of the other members, Jimin or Jungkook, I might have ignored them, assuming they would either be curious as to what happened or acting as an agent of the offending parties. Hoseok rarely texted me though, so I unlocked the phone and opened the app. Before today, our entire message history consisted of “Hey, we’re gonna be late and Namjoon forgot to charge his phone” and “I’ve asked everyone else, do you have any idea what Joonie wants for his birthday?”

Now, though, the two most recent messages on the screen said:

Hoseok: Monie is an idiot, but not the kind of idiot you think

Hoseok: Please talk to him, I swear that he can explain if you just talk to him

Hoseok and I might not be super close, but he’d always looked out for me, and I couldn’t imagine he’d be initiating this conversation unless it was genuine. I sighed and dropped my phone back onto my pillow.

I’d pretty much cried myself out by that point, but I will still so...tired. I was physically exhausted from all the wailing and sobbing, and mentally exhausted from, well, everything else. It had been a very very long month, and what Namjoon had done had been the cherry on top.

I wasn’t ready to talk to him today, not quite yet. But I picked the phone back up and texted Hobi that I’d talk to Joon in a few days.

32 Days P.I. (5 days after aborted threesome)

True to my word, two days later I opened my my messaging app and clicked on Namjoon’s name. The little bubble told me there were more than fifty unread messages, but I didn’t bother scrolling up to read them.

If you want to call, I’ll answer

I thought I’d have to wait a while, maybe I assumed he’d be busy with something, but less than two minutes later my phone was vibrating. I’d silenced the special ringtone I’d set for him when he was calling incessantly, and all I had wanted to do was throw the phone against the wall every time I heard it.

I swiped across the screen to answer the call, and hit the speaker button, but suddenly I couldn’t think of what to say.

“Babe?” Namjoon asked softly after a couple moments of silence. “You there?”

“Ye-” I started, but choked on the words, my throat constricting painfully upon hearing his voice again. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Yeah, I’m here.”

I appreciated the speaker function making me able to move the phone away from my ear at the sudden rush of noise when Namjoon sighed directly into his phone’s mic. “Oh god, babe, it’s so good to hear your voice.” His words tumbled out of his mouth as if they’d been caged and only just set free.

I was struck dumb once again, unable to think of what to say. Could I admit that as angry and sad as I was, I had missed his voice as well?

When I didn’t say anything, he continued, “I’ve been on edge ever since Hoseok told me you’d replied to him. I’m so sorry, I fucked up so bad, I know that. Will you let me explain?”

I sighed. “Sure, Joon-ah. You want to talk now or is there a better-?”

“In person, please,” he begged, cutting me off. “I need to see you, please, this will be easier face-to-face.”

I thought I was showing a lot of maturity by not immediately scoffing at him. “Okay. Not at the dorm, though,” I requested. “I can meet you at your studio I guess-” Then I remembered cuddling between him and Tae on that couch just before the whole thing started. “You know what, maybe you could come here instead? It’s a bit of a mess, but…”

“Let me take you out,” Namjoon cut in. “My treat. We can go out to lunch, or grab dinner later if you’re too busy right now.”

My brain froze. “You want to go out? Like, in public?” Did he assume that if we were in public, I wouldn’t make a scene?

I couldn’t see him, of course, but I was pretty sure Namjoon was nodding from the rustling noises I heard. “Yeah, it’s been too long since we went out.”

I hesitated, unsure if he was really thinking things through or just saying what he thought I wanted to hear. “Yeah, for a good reason, Namjoon. Maybe we should just do this on the phone after all.”

“No, come on, babe,” he whined. “We can go to that Japanese place you like, with the great teriyaki.”

“Namjoon, people will see us if we’re out together. Reporters will see us,” I reminded him. “Your managers aren’t going to give you permission to be seen in public with me, not at this point. Keeping me on lock down seems to have been working,” I tried to appeal, hoping he would remember his loyalty to the group and their image. “Are you really going to spoil all that for a girl you’re trying to break up with?”

“No!” Namjoon said sharply. “I’m not breaking up with you! I don’t want to break up, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. You’ll have to dump me if this is over, because I never want to leave you.” His voice softened, adding, “I want you to see that you are more important to me than anything, even a scandal or getting in trouble with management.”

“How-” I choked again, finding I still had tears left in me to cry. “I don’t get it.” How could he say these things, I was so confused. Had I really gotten it all wrong?

“Babe, I was never trying to pass you off, or whatever it was that you thought,” he tried to explain. “You’re too important to me, too precious. I never want to let you go. When I said I wanted to be with you forever, I meant it.”

Gathering my courage, I finally asked about the words that had convinced me that he was tired of me. “Then why tell Taehyung I was your girl for now, but it wouldn’t always be that way?”

“I never-” he started, letting out a huge sigh. “I really am the biggest idiot in the world, aren’t I?” he asked rhetorically. Another deep breath which was then blown straight into the mic, making me move the phone away again from the sudden rush of noise. I set the phone down so I would stop fiddling with it. “I wasn’t trying to say that you wouldn’t always be my girl. I was trying to imply that maybe you wouldn’t be only my girl.”

My mind, my breathing, both ground to a halt, trying to figure out what he was saying. “What?”

“I don’t want to end our relationship, I was just trying to...adjust it,” he said cautiously. When I was unable to answer, he continued, “Can we just talk about this at lunch? It’s the kind of thing that’s better to talk about in person.”

“Uh-” I hesitated, still unsure. “Yeah, sure, I guess.”

“Great, I’ll call ahead and get us a private room,” he said. “Meet you there in twenty minutes?”

***

“Why was I even worried about meeting in public if we’re arriving separately and getting a private room?” I grumbled to myself. “We could have tried to do this weeks ago.” I ignored the looks I earned from the other pedestrians waiting at the crosswalk, who must have wondered what was wrong with me. The restaurant Namjoon had named was on the next block, a family run place I’d wandered into years ago and discovered had the best teriyaki. Stepping through the door, I realized the hostess was new and therefore wouldn’t recognize me as Namjoon’s regular eating companion.

“Yeah, hi, I’m meeting someone,” I replied after she had greeted me.

She nodded and looked at the screen next to her. “Name?” she asked politely.

“Umm…” I didn’t know what name Namjoon would have given for the reservation. “He probably called like, half an hour ago? He booked a private room,” I tried.

The hostess gave me a look that said she didn’t believe me. “I’m sorry, miss, if you don’t know who you’re meeting, I can’t show you to a table. We are fully booked. I can put you on the list, but it will be about 20 minutes.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes in my head at Namjoon for forgetting to tell me this small detail. “I dunno, maybe Koya? Ryan?” I listed a couple of names he’d used before, but saw no recognition in her eyes. “He wouldn’t have used it, but his name is Kim Namjoon.”

One of the servers I recognized, the chef/owner’s daughter, stepped up just as the hostess’s eyes widened. “Right this way, miss,” the server said with a gesture for me to follow, leaving the hostess looking a bit shocked and looking me up and down. I felt my face flush at the blatant appraisal as I followed the server to a staircase leading to the lower level of the restaurant, a hallway lined with sliding rice paper partitions, and through one she opened for me.

Namjoon sat at the table, his long legs crossed on the thin cushion, his all black attire striking against the pale soft colours of the decor. A small pot of tea and two ceramic cups already graced the table. He stood up when I entered, stepping forward as if to hug me but hesitating and dropping them back to his sides.

“Hey,” I greeted, setting my purse down and sitting on a cushion on the other side of the table from him. “Sorry, I’m a bit late.”

“No no, you’re fine,” Namjoon assured me. “It was kind of last minute, anyway.” He sat back down and poured a measure of tea into the empty cup, sliding it over to me. We sat in awkward silence for a few moments, neither of us ready to talk about what needed to be said, before he asked, “So, how is the thesis defense going?”

I huffed into my cup as I took a sip of the slightly bitter tea. “Haven’t really been working on it for the last few days,” I admitted. I looked around for a menu, but saw none. “Have you already ordered?” Yes, it was a weak and blatant attempt to change the subject. No, I wasn’t proud.

Namjoon nodded in answer to my question. “I ordered your usual for you, I hope you don’t mind,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically timid.

“Yeah, thanks,” I tried to assure him, but it came out sounding more sarcastic than I had meant. “So, yeah, you wanted to talk?” I volleyed, trying to start the conversation I’d come all this way to have.

Namjoon nodded. “Yeah, but maybe let’s wait until after the food gets here? I don’t want to be interrupted.”

I nodded. The silence hung heavy between us.

“So, uh, how are the members?” I asked lamely.

“Good, they’re good,” he told me. “A little concerned after what happened, but once I kind of explained what happened, they were the ones who made me see what a fool I’ve been.”

“I didn’t mean-” I started. “I meant like, how was the album and rehearsals. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was asking about how they reacted.”

Namjoon chucked ruefully. “Yeah, but figuring stuff out has kind of been a big part of the last few days. They saw my girlfriend, who they all love, running out of my room half dressed and almost crying, being chased by me and my - also half-naked - roommate. And then she starts saying stuff about me trying to give her to him, so it’s understandable that they’d be concerned. Mostly about your safety.”

I flushed at the memory, knowing now what the real situation had been. “I still don’t know what’s going on,” I muttered.

Namjoon sighed. “I know, babe, I’m trying to figure out the best way to tell you-” He cut off as the partition slid open and two servers entered, carrying a collection of small plates and dishes. By unspoken agreement we waited until all of the items had been deposited and we were alone to begin eating.

Conversation was slow to resume, though, due to our enjoyment of the food in front of us. We moved in concert, arranging dishes closer to the person who enjoyed it more, carefully dividing the mutual favourites evenly between our plates, and depositing disliked ingredients on the other’s. Habits born of long practice in the years we’d been eating together were hard to break even with the tension hanging between us.

Once our initial hunger had been sated in silence, I looked at Namjoon pointedly, waiting for him to begin once again with his explanation of exactly what had been miscommunicated to leave our relationship in such a precarious situation.

“Look, how about you tell me why you thought I was trying to give you to Taehyung, and I’ll fill in what you don’t know,” he suggested, obviously unsure of where to start. I took a deep breath and began speaking.

I explained about how I’d been so happy after we’d made up, that I hadn’t even really considered why he’d teased Tae so much, and then brought him along to my place, and invited him into our bed even after the scandal that had plagued our lives. About how I’d overheard him talking to Tae that night, telling the younger man his suspicions about romantic feelings between him and I, and about how my heart broke when he said that I was his girl, but it “didn’t have to be that way”.

Namjoon interrupted me there. “Aw, babe, that’s not what I meant at all!”

“Do you want me to tell you what I was thinking, or not?”

“Sorry, you’re right. Go ahead.”

I told him of the pit of despair I’d wallowed in, about how I’d tried over and over again to figure out what went wrong and why he’d leave me after all we’d been through. I explained why I’d been so despondent when I’d arrived at the studio to visit him, thinking I was about to get dumped. When I got to the part about my confusion when he was encouraging me to be physical with Taehyung, he interrupted again.

“So you thought I was trying to set you up with your next boyfriend, before we were even over?”

“Well, Namjoon, you’d asked more than once if I was going to hook up with him after we broke up, it wasn’t that much of a stretch.”

He grabbed by hand across the table, squeezing it and pulling it closer. “I’m sorry, babe. I really, really shouldn’t have tried to spring a surprise threesome on you.”

“A surprise threesome? That was the goal?” I was incredulous.

Namjoon shrugged. “I’ve been thinking...I was trying to set it up for, uh...” he mumbled something that I couldn’t hear.

“You were trying to set up…” I prompted.

“I was playing with the idea of inviting Taehyung into our relationship,” he finally said in a rush. I froze, the chopsticks I’d been holding dropping out of my grip and clattering to the table. When I said nothing, he asked, “So, that probably wasn’t the best way to go about things.”

“Ya think?!” I said quickly. I watched his face fall and immediately regretted my hasty words; he was obviously trying really hard to explain, and was well aware of how he’d messed up. “Sorry, that was harsher than I meant. I just mean, why didn’t you come to me? I knew you had a past with Taehyung, it wouldn’t have been a shock if you told me there were lingering feelings there. Hell, you literally invited him to at least watch us hook up more than once.”

Namjoon sighed. “Yeah, but you and he always brushed it off as me being a generalized perv, not an intentional move on him. I figured if I actually encouraged the two of you directly, things might finally go somewhere.”

It was my turn to sigh. I could see how it all made some sort of sense in his head, but he still never thought to actually discuss his plans with either of us-

“Did you talk about this with Taehyung?” I asked, pulling my hand from his as the thought occurred to me. “Like, before it happened?”

“Um-” Namjoon flushed. “I mean, we had already talked about how he liked you, and I might have floated the idea of a threesome at some point…”

“That’s how he knew what was coming, when you kissed him,” I realized. My food was forgotten, I just sat with my hands folded in my lap as I contemplated the situation. “So you talked to him about whatever your plan was, about bringing him into our relationship, before you talked to me? The other person actually in said relationship?”

“No!” Namjoon answered quickly. “Not the part about being with us, like, long term. Just...just the idea of joining us in bed.”

“At least you talked to someone,” I muttered.

He frowned at that. “Hey, I am not the only one who didn’t talk,” he pointed out. “You were making a lot of assumptions without talking to me at all, too.”

“And what would have happened, if I was right, Joon-ah?” I asked. “It was my worst nightmare come true!” I looked down to my hands, twisted together just below the table. “At least if I didn’t say anything, I could hope you’d change your mind.”

I didn’t notice he had moved until he knelt next to me, and his arm slid around my shoulder. “For two people who are supposed to be pretty smart, we kind of missed the mark.” He spoke into my hair, his lips pressed against my head. “Please, just tell me I haven’t fucked this up beyond repair?”

Twisting into him, I slid my arms around his waist. “I was planning on staying with you until the moment you left me, even when I thought you were going to dump me,” I pointed out. “Now that we both understand better, I think we might be able to get through this.”

“Thank god,” he breathed, then cupped my chin to turn me to face him, and kissed me gently. I returned his kiss, keeping it light and sweet, a relieved kiss more than anything. He pulled back, kissing me again on the forehead. “I swear, I’ll talk to you about any crazy relationship ideas from now on.”

I giggled, almost giddy. “I appreciate it,” I admitted. He pulled me closer, awkwardly dragging me into his lap.

“I just can’t get the image of you out of my head, right before you ran out of the room. You looked so betrayed, so heartbroken.” Namjoon just held me tight in his arms, as if he was afraid to let me go. “Which makes sense, I guess. You were. And I hate that I made you feel that way.”

“I never want to hurt you like that, ever again,” he continued. “I’ll talk to Taehyungie, I mean I’m sure he’s not expecting us to approach him again after what happened, but I’ll try to explain what happened. Getting better at communicating has to start somewhere, right?” The way he said it, with this sense of finality, made me stop and think.

“Joonie?” I asked softly. “Is it- Was it cause I’m not enough? Is there just something you’ll always be missing that will hang over us forever?”

“Oh babe, no, never,” Namjoon was quick to reassure me, somehow squeezing me even tighter. “You are always enough, more than enough for me, I swear.” I smiled weakly, trying to believe him. He continued, “This was just my incredibly selfish reaction to a very specific situation I built up in my head. Now that I realize how off-base I was, the temptation is gone.”

I wasn’t sure I could believe that entirely. It’s not like Taehyung was going anywhere, for either of us, because I realized that he was going to be a temptation for us both. He was going to be Namjoon’s fellow group member, his dongsaeng, for the foreseeable future at least, and as long as I was with Joon, he’d be there too.

As much as I had recoiled at the idea of Namjoon foisting me off on Taehyung, those feelings the situation had made me face remained. Was is really so out of the question that Namjoon and I be involved with him?

I wasn’t sure, couldn’t make any guarantees, but I knew I couldn’t write off the idea entirely.

“I’m not saying that I’m for sure in…” I said after a few moments. “But...let’s not rule it out quite yet, either?”

“Rule what out?” Namjoon asked, clearly confused. Then his eyes widened, his whole body tensing around me. “You mean, lets not rule Taehyung out?”

I nodded. “I’m still not sure, but I just think its something I need to consider. And I’d need to talk to Tae, have a serious discussion with him.”

“Yeah, sure, let me know and we can come over-”

“Alone, Namjoon,” I interrupted him. “Tae and I need to discuss things without you over our shoulders, with those excited hopeful puppy-dog eyes of yours. We need to decide if this is what we want, and that we wouldn’t just be doing it to make you happy because we love you.”

He relaxed again, but kept me close. “Okay, okay, that makes sense,” he admitted. “Just, I want you to know that I love you either way. And I am going to be with you, no matter if its with Tae or the two of us.”

I hummed in agreement and turned to kiss him again. Just then, our server slid the partition open and peeked inside, clearing her throat. “All finished?” she asked politely.

I slipped out of Namjoon’s lap and back onto my own cushion. Namjoon helped hand the empty plates to the server and quietly asked for the bill. Once that was paid, by him despite my objections, he pulled out his phone and started typing a message.

“Calling for a car?” I asked.

Namjoon shook his head. “No, just apologizing to Sejin-ssi,” he answered.

“What did you do to Sejin?” I couldn’t imagine what he’d managed to do to his manager in the time we’d been eating lunch.

“Nothing yet,” he said cryptically. “Are you headed back home or to school? Can I walk you? We can stop for boba on the way.”

I hesitated. “Is that a good idea?” I gathered my purse and straightened my clothes. “Photographers have stopped following me everywhere, but you never know…”

Namjoon slid both his large hands around my waist and looked down at me with a fond smile. “You’re worth the risk.”

33 Days P.I. (1 day after second make up)

My phone was buzzing, and once again I was surprised by the name on the screen when I picked it up. Thankfully I was alone in the office at school, so I could answer the FaceTime call from Jin, assuming it must be an accident or an emergency since we didn't usually call each other, let alone use video calling.

Jin's face appeared briefly on screen, only long enough for me to see the smirk on his face and a couple of other familiar faces behind him before the camera switched to show me what he was seeing.

I recognized one of the numerous conference rooms at the Big Hit offices, where a trio of management types sat at one end of the room with Namjoon facing them, in heated conversation. I knew from the view of Jin that at least some of the other members were in the room as well, watching the fireworks.

"How did they find you, Namjoon?" one of the managers asked, annoyance and anger battling for dominance in his tone.

"I don't know," my boyfriend replied, obviously not for the first time. Even through the small screen I could sense his apathy, his complete disregard for their concerns. "It's a free city, someone must have spotted me when I had my mask down."

"You're lucky my contact at Dispatch gave me a heads up," said another manager, obviously from the PR team. "Otherwise those pictures would be everywhere by now."

"So let them be everywhere!" Namjoon shot back. "I wasn't doing anything wrong, I was walking my girlfriend back to her apartment after we had lunch together. Our relationship is public! What's the big deal?"

"Don't play with us, young man," the third man chimed in. I didn't recognize him, so he was probably higher up on the corporate ladder than I usually associated with. "We have a strategy in place to deal with the scandal with your little girlfriend, remember?"

"Yeah, well, your strategy almost cost me the woman I love," Namjoon retorted. "So I say we try a new strategy, where we get to live our fucking lives and don't kowtow to what other people think."

I nearly dropped the phone, fumbling it a bit and missing the response to Namjoon's uncharacteristic outburst. His words must have shocked the older men as much as it did me, to see my normally respectful boyfriend snap at them like that.

"They only assumed we'd broken up because we were never allowed to say any different," Namjoon was arguing again. "Not our fault that they all drew the wrong conclusion."

"Yes," PR manager said. "But we can't just ignore the original scandal."

The first manager had been quiet so far, but he finally spoke up again. "So, instead of hiding like something is wrong, put them on centre stage." When the other managers looked confused, he continued, "Like how we had Namjoon and Taehyung spending lots of time together in front of cameras, to show there were no issues between them. Just add the girl into the picture, let the story be about how they are all still friends."

"That works for me," Namjoon agreed. "Suits me perfectly, in fact."

Jin flipped the camera to I could see his handsome face again, his eyebrows raised so high they disappeared into his fringe and his mouth formed a little 'o'. I laughed at his expression, as quietly as I could to avoid letting anybody else know I was on the phone.

"Seokjin?" someone called from the other side of the room, and suddenly our call cut off as Jin hung up in a panic.

A couple minutes later I got a text from him.

Jin: I'm just so proud, I've raised our leader so well.

35 Days P.I. (3 Days Post Makeup)

I re-read the email on my screen three times before I texted Namjoon.

Me: Defense date is set for next Wednesday, 2:30 pm

His response was quick, like they had been all week, as though he kept his phone in his hand and un-silenced at all times.

Joonie <3: That soon??? They don't give you a lot of notice, do they?

I smiled at my phone, shaking my head at his concern

Me: We've known it would be next week for a while, just not the day and time

I realized he might be upset over the late notice for another reason.

Me: You don't have to come, you know, if you have something scheduled

Me: Audiences aren't very common at these things, unless they're in the same field

I saw the three little dots that indicated he was typing something.

Joonie <3 : I'll figure it out. Wanna be there for you

Joonie <3 : Do you think Tae could come along as well? He was talking about wanting to go to support you...

I'd spent the majority of the three days previous worrying over the decision looming over me. The question of whether to give adding Taehyung to our relationship a try was not something I took lightly.

I couldn't deny that there was something more between us than friendship, at least on my part. I'd always ignored the attraction, the little crush, in favour of our amazing friendship and in deference to the relationship I was trying to make work with one of the nation's biggest idols. I'd attributed the fact that Tae and I were closer and more cuddly than I was with the others to his personality meshing with mine so well, on a platonic level.

I'd challenged myself to be honest, and having had days to think it over, I was ready to admit that I could see myself forming a relationship with Taehyung. What still remained to be seen was a) if he felt the same way and b) how the resulting relationship between us would fit in with the relationships we each had with Namjoon.

Me: I think he and I need to have a talk first

Me: Any gaps in your schedule in the next couple days?

Joonie <3 : We've got a photoshoot this afternoon

Joonie <3 : I can arrange for Tae to be done first, he can come meet you after that?

Me: Great

Me: How late will he be, do you think?

Me: Will I need to feed him?

Me: Oh god, what do I wear???

Me: I don't want to look like I asked him over to bang

Me: But I don't want to look like a nun either, if we're discussing a potential relationship

Me: Namjoon, help me!

The three little dots had been hanging at the bottom of the screen for the entirety of my rant, but he failed to send me any messages until I became desperate.

Joonie <3 : Babe. just wear whatever, he won't care

Joonie <3 : Pls don't bang him, tho

Joonie <3 : Not yet

Joonie <3 : I wanna be there for that

***

Somehow, after my initial freak out, I was feeling calm by the time Namjoon texted to let me know Taehyung was finished at the shoot and was on his way to me. I wasn't sure if my nerves were actually settling down or if I'd just fried them to the point of numbness, but I was thankful for the sense of calm I felt when Tae buzzed to be let in. He looked devastatingly handsome, his hair and makeup still styled from the photos he'd been taking, even in his own linen pants and loose maroon shirt. I felt out of place in my own home, in my jeans and one of Namjoon's giant shirts.

"Hey," I greeted him when he made his way to my door. I was still feeling shy, even if I was more calm, as I stepped aside and gestured for him to come in.

He smiled his adorable square smile at me and I melted a little. "Hey, noona. It's, uh- It's good to see you."

"Likewise, Taehyung-ah," I returned, but found myself at a loss for what to say next. "I wasn't sure if you'd gotten a chance to eat, but I have some ramyun or something if you want? Shit, you're in the middle of photo shoots, you probably don't want the extra salt to make you puffy. Ummm...I could always order something in?" The nerves I thought had settled were racing again, making me ramble as I paced around the small living room, looking for something to do with my hands.

Taehyung reached out and wrapped his long fingers around my wrist as I moved past him for the second time. "I'm fine, noona. I promise I had something to eat. They do feed us on shoots, you know."

"Right," I sighed. "Can I get you something to drink, at least? Water, tea...?" He just nodded, so I filled a couple of water glasses and brought them back to the living room, where he'd made himself comfortable on my couch.

"So..." I started, taking a sip of my water to wet my suddenly dry mouth. "this is weird, right? This feels weird. Maybe we should have had Namjoon here, he would know what to say."

Taehyung nodded. "I've never had to, like, formally interview for a relationship before," he joked. "First dates aren't quite so straightforward. And after that, things just always fell into place, or worked their way out organically." My lips tightened into a line, which must have concerned him because he reached over and took both my hands in his. "But it's worth it! I think so, anyway, right? I mean, a poly triad relationship is going to go a little different than what we're used to, by definition."

It was my turn to nod. "Okay then." I took another deep breath. "I guess we have some things to discuss. Can I- I mean, is it okay if I ask you some questions first?" He nodded, and let go of my hands to lean back into the corner of my couch, spreading his arms wide as if to show what an open book he was trying to be. It was an unconscious move, but it showed how incredibly confident he was, which was distressingly attractive when I was trying to be more logical about things. The move also served to remind me that while he could look small at times, Taehyung was quite simply larger than me, and I blushed hard.

"I guess the most important question is, do you want this? Do you want to, like become a triad, or whatever, with Namjoon and me?" I looked him in the eyes as I asked, needing to see his response as much as hear it.

"Yes." Tae held my gaze, as though he knew how much I needed it.

"And do you want me?" I hated how softly the question came out, as though I had lost the confidence and bravado I'd been feeling. Which wasn't inaccurate, but I didn't like showing my vulnerability.

Again, a firm: "Yes."

"As more than an obligation you have to put up with in order to be with the person you really want?"

Taehyung looked confused, taking a few extra seconds to process what I'd said. Once he had, he shook his head vigorously. "You think I'm just putting up with, like, a bonus partner cause I want to be with Namjoon-hyung? No, if anything, he's the bonus partner, not you." He slapped his hand over his mouth, looking as shocked at his own words as I felt. "I don't mean it like that! I just mean, if hyung hadn't made it clear from the moment he introduced you that he as interested in you, I'd have asked you out in a second. You can ask Jimin, I whined at him the whole time hyung was doubting himself before making a move. Heck, I even asked him to give you my number if he couldn't grow some balls. Then you guys were dating, and we became friends, and I had to keep my feelings platonic because you were my hyung's girlfriend."

He paused again before continuing. "Don't think I don't want to be with hyung, though. The relationship between us has been like this for years, like friends with benefits who know they couldn't be anything more than that. At the time, anyway. Earlier in our career we couldn't risk being together together for real, because we were too busy and too vulnerable to a scandal ruining us entirely. At least, that's what we told ourselves." Tae reached out and tucked a lock of my hair behind my ear, like some cheesy lead in a drama. "Now I think maybe we were just waiting for you. You make the two of us...make sense. Like you were our missing piece."

I was too stunned to speak for a moment. Namjoon and I hadn't discussed how deep his relationship with Taehyung had been, what he wanted it to become, but Tae had just laid it all out there on the table. It made a kid of sense, really, that rather than a purely sex-based hook-up, their relationship has been more like taking what they could get because of outside circumstances. Joon was a sexual creature, I knew that very well, but I'd never suspected that he'd have been the type to have a fuck buddy. Hook-ups, one night stands, sure; living the idol life didn't make it easy to sustain a relationship, especially when it had to remain a secret. But in addition to being a horny bastard, Namjoon was also one of the most romantic people I knew: an ongoing relationship based purely on sex just wasn't his style.

"I...wow," was all I could come up with. I hadn't even processed the fact that Taehyung had maintained some kind of crush on me over the last couple years. "That's a lot to consider."

"What about you?" Taehyung turned the questions on me, before I was really ready. "Do you want this?" I nodded, but he didn't move on, so I gave him the verbal response he needed. "And do you want me?" he continued, echoing my own questions. Again, I nodded and have my ascent. "As more than a means to keep your boyfriend happy?" I noticed how his mouth tightened around the question, though he was able to keep his voice level. This was the question he was really worried about.

"Yes, Taehyung," I assured him. "The other night, I freaked out on you, I know. But it was for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with you or what we were doing, directly. It was a case of miscommunication and my overactive brain."

"Yeah, Joon-hyung explained what you'd thought was going on," he told me. "I swear, I thought the two of you had discussed things, I thought it was something you'd agreed on already. If I'd known-"

"You did nothing wrong, Tae-ah," I said, scooting closer and putting my hand on his knee. "Believe me, I wanted to be there, wanted to be with you like that, it was just that I started to think it meant something else and I freaked out. I mean, Joon and I had talked about it, in a kind of abstract way, but that was before I thought he was planning on breaking up with me and fixing me up with you at the same time." I massaged his leg just above his knee, feeling the strong muscle of his thigh twitch under my hand. "If I just wanted to keep Namjoon happy but didn't want you myself, I'd have suggested opening our relationship, not inviting you into it. Believe me, I really really like the idea of the three of us together."

Tae reached for the hand on his leg and picked it up, interlacing our fingers and bringing it up to his mouth to kiss softly. "I really really like the idea of the three of us together, too," he confessed.

"So, does this mean..." Even knowing where we stood, it still took me a bit to find the words. "Are we doing this? The three of us are dating each other?" Taehyung nodded. "Should we call Namjoon and tell him, then?"

Tae looked like he needed to consider it for a minute. "Normally I'd say yes, but he's practically been turning my ass numb with the constant texts, probably asking for updates." He fished his phone out of his back pocket, the lock screen filled with alerts of new messages from 'Leader-hyung', the phone buzzing twice more even as he placed it on the table.

I laughed. "I put him on silent when I buzzed you up," I admitted, pointing to where my phone sat on the kitchen counter. "I think we can let him stew for a little while longer, though."

"Good, then we can gossip about him," Tae said with that boxy grin of his. He hadn't let go of my hand, and reached out for the other, turning me and pulling me across his lap. It was a position we'd shared many times before, with my thighs across his and one of his arms around my back and the other over my knees. Somehow it felt more intimate now, I was more aware of the heat of his body where it pressed against mine, the way his fingers gripped the softness of my waist and the other drew patterns on my knee.

How had I not realized how many non-platonic feelings for Taehyung I'd been ignoring? I'd been avoiding my body's response to him for so long that now that I allowed myself to feel, it was overwhelming.

I laughed. "Um, I don't know, what do you want to know about him?"

"What's he like as a boyfriend?" Tae prompted.

I thought for a moment. "He's sweet, but you probably could have guessed that. He makes a bigger deal over hundred days and anniversaries than I do. He gets my opinion on what photos to include in his Kim Daily updates, if I wasn't the one to take them in the first place. He goes to sleep cuddling, but then by morning he's sprawled over as much of the bed as he can. Some days when he's feeling needy he will literally kiss me every 2 minutes. If he says he's coming over after he's done for the day, he means it, even if its only for like 2 hours because practice runs late." Taehyung smiled at my words, seeming to recognize some of the habits I named. "He can't cook, but he knows my favourite orders at every place we've eaten at more than twice. He cancels plans a lot for work stuff, but insists on making them up to me."

"That probably won't really get better when there's two of us," Tae admitted softly.

"I know," I said wryly. "I knew what I was getting into when I started dating an idol. It's rough but I'm used to it. Umm, lets see. Oh! He writes me letters when you're on tour. Sometimes he mails them, but more often he takes pictures of them and sends those because he can't get to a post box or figures he'll beat it home. He’ll talk my ear off about any new book he find interesting. And he actually listens when I rant about statistics and claims he finds it interesting."

"I hope I'll be a good enough boyfriend for you to compete with all of that," Taehyung admitted, his eyes trained on the far end of the couch.

I reached up and cupped his cheek, turning his face back toward me. "First, its not a competition. Second, friend-Tae has so many amazing qualities, I am sure boyfriend-Tae will be equally as amazing," I said softly. "I wasn't trying to tell you what a great boyfriend Namjoon is for me, I'm letting you know what a great boyfriend he'll be for you, too."

"I guess you don't really need me to fill you in on what he's like as a fuck buddy, do you?" Taehyung joked, trying to lighten the suddenly somber mood.

I flushed. "I mean, I know what he's like in bed with me, but I don't know what he's like with you." Tae watched the way my eyes looked everywhere but at his face, and I saw him grin out of the corner of my eye.

He laughed. "Joonie wasn't kidding when he said you liked thinking about the two of us together, was he?" Taehyung asked, teasing me unfairly. "What do you want to know, noona?"

I blushed further at the way he said the honorific. Stammering, I got out, "Well, I mean, I don't want to pry or be a creep, but, uh, I had kind of wondered who, uh..."

"You want to know who topped?" he guessed with a raised eyebrow. When I nodded guiltily, he smiled. "While I feel like I should be giving you a lecture about fetishizing same sex relationships, I'll admit you have a valid reason for wanting to know."

I watched him as he leaned forward to grab his glass and have a sip of water, waiting ever so patiently for him to spill the tea on a situation I'd been actively wondering about for weeks now. Apparently I didn't look as patient as I had hoped, because he nearly spit out his water and laughed when he looked back at my face. "Would you like some water, too, honey? You're looking a little thirsty."

Not finding his teasing amusing in the least, I smacked his arm lightly. "Aish, you're so rough, noona!" he complained. "To answer your question, most of our...encounters were of the manual and oral variety. Kind of hard to find the time and privacy for anal with our schedules."

"Uh huh, you said most..." I prompted, no longer feeling shame at my interest after his teasing.

"We've each done both," Taehyung confessed. "He's a little more, uh...suited for the role of top, personality wise. But he, uh...he told me my dick was too good to waste the opportunity?" It was Tae's turn to blush now, and I giggled at his embarrassment.

I clapped with delight. "Well, I suppose that answers some questions about what I have to expect in bed with you!" I joked. Tae leaned to hide his face in my neck, but I could see the smile on his face before he hid it. He might be embarrassed, but he was a little proud, too.

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