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reginarubie · 11 months

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Gentle Mother ~ Font of mercy

[As always the art is not mine the pieces of art belong to their owner and if anyone is and doesn't want them used, let me know and I will take 'em down]

As sparked by this convo.

The theme of the Mother is a very profound one in the asoiaf world. And Martin shows us what the mother is supposed to be (mercy) and also the other side of the coin (vengeance). This theme is weaved intricately with the women of asoiaf.

"Mothers." The man made the word sound like a curse. "I think birthing does something to your minds. You are all mad." — Bran II, AGOT

There are at least four big characters who embody — in different ways — the theme of the mother (Lysa and Lyanna as well as Elia will be honorable mentions at the end) and those are Catelyn, Cersei, Daenerys and Sansa. — and we'll see how the lyrics of the hymn are retold by these characters.

The point is, only one of these “mothers” actually embodies the Hymn of the Mother and the merciful mother. And that character is Sansa Stark.

Cersei Lannister ~ Mother of Lions, mother of madness — soothe the wrath

So, Cersei, of course, embodies the mother. Even the prophecy Maggy the Frogs gives her is focused not only on her role as queen, but as her role — and her failure — as mother. It is not a chance that Maggy comments on how “her children's crowns would be golden and golden their shrouds”.

This is supposed as much as to be warning as to be a statement and Cersei instead of taking it as a warning, actually becomes the propellent force which causes most of the prophecy coming true.

Her love for her children spurns her to kill Robert, when Ned warns her he will tell the king the truth about her children, and yet it's her ambition for them (and for herself — she does dream of herself sitting atop the IT above all other lords) that puts them in jeopardy in the first place.

Cersei is a destructive mother, she's framed as a mother who will do all to keep her children safe — going to the point she's ready to kill Tommen and herself to avoid they're taken by Stannis — her greatest accomplishment is being a mother and yet to her it's both a chain keeping her on a lesser step, and her greatest weakness.

Cersei has styled herself as a protector, and as her scene with Tywin tells us, there are no lengths Cersei would not go to keep her children safe. She thinks she alone can keep her children safe, and yet she's the reason her children are doomed.

And her children are her doom, too.

To begin with it's Cersei own actions which put Joffrey, Marcella and Tommen in jeopardy; the circumstances of their birth are Cersei's own doing; her ambition pertaining them the reason for their doom.

The fact that Cersei' ambition for her children is the IT means her children are in peril, especially since Cersei is not that much beloved. She takes their birthright for granted — even though they do not have one — and she feels she's far too superior to debase herself with making alliances. Even when her marriage to Loras could ensure the Tyrell's support beyond any doubt she's against it, and we know she's ready to anything to avoid it.

Cersei — as I've discussed in another meta — takes the metaphorical stones thrown at her (for her behavior) and builds a fortress behind which she's sure the fear of her shall keep her and her children safe.

But it is not so. Yes, in the books Myrcella and Tommen are still alive, but we know that will change soon. Myrcella has lost an ear and is very probably traumatized over the whole ordeal — she being pitted against her mother and brother — whilst Tommen is being torn and ripped apart between his “advisors” (Kevan against Cersei, Cersei against Margaery) when he is yet a child.

If Cersei had worked and played good with Kevan perhaps they could've found a way to protect Tommen better, instead Cersei is waging her own personal war against whoever tries to keep her pinned to the ground, to the point she becomes blind to the effects her choices might have on her son.

It is an undisputed theory — and a very believable one — that Cersei' behavior as Queen Mother (and now only regent) to Tommen will easily provoke the ire of the people of KL, possibly causing new riots and rebellions to spark in between the streets.

As Queen, Cersei should've been not only mother to her children, but mother to the people and most importantly to the nobles. She doesn't care. [And this will come bite her in the bum when the time comes]. During the siege on KL by Stannis, Cersei does her duty, by collecting all the ladies of the court, and keep them with her, but that's as far as she goes (beyond terrorizing Sansa, who she is supposed — and does see in her own twisted way — to be mother of, as at this point Sansa is still betrothed to Joffrey), and when the things get really difficult she abandons the ladies in her charge to their fate to “choose hers”.

Children learn by example, and the example they have received is that of an absent father who couldn't care less about them, and a self-entitled mother so ambitious (but lacking real political wit) to want to put her bastards on the Iron throne. And whilst Tommen and Myrcella are too little to show it, Joffrey is the product of this kind of education and his own brand of cruelty and madness.

Cersei fancies herself as the matriarch of House Lannister, much like her father was Head of House Lannister — and for all of Tywin's cunning, his legacy is nothing but a mirror for larks, a lie he tells himself and the realm, a lie that died with him — but as Jaime considers she's neither as cunning neither as capable of Tywin, and she's not as calm. She's like wildfire, and wildfire can kill also its wielder.

In the books Cersei is becoming more and more paranoid and she's taking matters in her own hand — like disposing of Kevan and burning the Tower of the Hand in wildfire — and she feels a twisted, cruel pleasure at being in control. Which makes her dangerous not only for herself but for her children too.

And, that, makes of her a destructive mother. Her wrath makes of her the doom of her children.

“I promise you, no matter where you flee, Robert's wrath will follow you, to the back of beyond if need be." The queen stood. "And what of my wrath, Lord Stark?" she asked softly. — Eddard XIII, AGOT

Catelyn Stark/Lady Stoneheart ~ Mother of wolves, mother of death — font of mercy

Catelyn is an extremely particular example of mother. She's as fierce as Cersei when it comes to her children — mama wolf caught a valyrian steel knife bare-handed to defend her comatose son — and she's much more calm when she offers advice.

Whereas Cersei looses all power when Joffrey becomes king, a son who up to a point despise her for her weakness too, Catelyn is another thing for Robb. Both mothers have differences with their king-sons but Cersei' steems of her attempt to control Joffrey, whilst Catelyn's steems of her being first a mother and secondly the mother of a king.

She releases Jaime, but she doesn't do it to try and control her son, she does it to try and save her daughters. She gets relegated for it by her son, and her advice is often ignored by Robb after she realizes Jaime; and yet when the moment comes Catelyn dies convinced all her children are either dead (presumed so, Rickon, Brandon and Arya or surely so, Robb) or prisoners (Sansa).

Same as Cersei though, I must point out, Catelyn too is still young and there is talk of her new marriage to strengthen Robb; Theon is considered (which is foil to the Loras/Cersei's betrothal) though in the end another man, more of an age to Catelyn and whom she finds handsome, is chosen for her. Though she never reaches him, as she dies before she can. So, when Beric Dondarrion gives her “the kiss of life” — which, if you think of it, is not by chance that is called such, as mothers give life to their children — Catelyn rises against from death and she rises the vengeful, destructive mother who is hunting down and killing all those she thinks are guilty, one way or another, of the death of her children.

The kiss of life for Catelyn Stark was a curse, just as Maggy's prophecy was a curse for Cersei. Lady Stoneheart is the Mother without mercy, the mother who shows no mercy because she has none in her heart, but for vengeance. The mother whose only purpose is that of avenging her children.

"M'lady." The wine was making her head spin. It was hard to think. "Stoneheart. Is that who you mean?" Lord Randyll had spoken of her, back at Maidenpool. "Lady Stoneheart." "Some call her that. Some call her other things. The Silent Sister. Mother Merciless. The Hangwoman." — Brienne VIII, AFFC

Daenerys Targaryen ~ Mhysa, Mother of Dragons, Mother of monsters — tame the fury

Daenerys is such a tragic character and as @esther-dot has said in her own reply to the ask about Daenerys as a foil to the Virgin Mary, she is the Mother of several, the mother of dragons and Mhysa and yet she does not embody the traits of the mother (and the Virgin Mary, in the details, as those are compassion and mercy and grief).

Daenerys is thirteen when she gets pregnant, so she's extremely young when she miscarries her son and becomes barren. I have explained in several posts and metas how I think things went pertaining Rhaego's sacrifice and the birth of the dragons as Daenerys embracing her inner valyrian and her inner dragon (this serie).

The flames of Drogo's pyre burn away Daenerys' character as mother, and I truly believe that Martin giving her so many titles hinging on the figure of the Mother is meant to showcase how much, with each title she gains, she looses a part of the mother's thematic traits.

Daenerys herself, in her grief and fury, asks herself if she truly had not known the price for the blood magic the maegi did to save Drogo.

As highlighted by the original convo, Daenerys steels herself to not cry, to not show compassion, and to not give into mercy. She becomes the dragon each choice more.

Even though the show framed Daenerys as a merciful ruler who decided her crusade was to free the slaves, that is not the same in the books, as there lacks a scene in which Daenerys formally frees the Unsullied (as her speech during the taking of Astapor shows her telling them they are bought and paid for, that they are hers, to then make the alliteration of freedom/dracarys and you're the dragon's now all the while holding the whip). What she gathers during her campaign east is:

A reputation (Slavers Bay) — as she herself says to Jorah and Barrister, she knows what Aegon proved during his conquest, and that she has a few things she means to prove herself. It's a show of power. (Remember Aegon's formative years were spent with Balerion in the east). Troops (Astapor) — the Unsullied in Astapor, the second sons in Meereen and later the Dothraki (though how that will happen in the book remains to be seen, and how ‘inclusive of all dothraki’ that will actually be as opposed to the show) plus the other companies that compose her new army. A following/labour force (Yunkai) — as she herself thinks as she goes parlay with the masters in Astapor, she feels her following is insignificant and so is she by extention. Taking in her procession around the east the freed slaves of Yunkai gives her that, labour force (this happens in Meereen too) as well as a following which is not insignificant anymore, which makes her no longer insignificant as she felt when she was, for example, in Qart and she wasn't offered poison. Riches to fund her campaign west (Meereen)— despite staying in Meereen to rule, what Daenerys does is not making the best choice for the city, but the best choice to fill her coffers to fund her campaign west of the Narrow Sea. It was explained by better meta-writers than me, how Daenerys completely ignores the commercial importance of some goods, to chose instead coin and precious metals and gems and goods that will serve the purpose of funding her campaign west. Not only that, she reinstates slavery by taking the very same percentage from the selling that the slavers did, all because wars have costs and they're won as much with gold as they are by swords (her words, not mine — Daenerys VI, ASOS).

Why saying all of this? Because the propaganda they used to frame her as Mhysa in the show is the same the slaves of Volantis fall prey to. Her reputation makes the slaves of Volantis pray for her coming and for her to free them all, but it is pretty clear Daenerys will not go to Volantis. She will turn west and begin her campaign to take back the IT.

Daenerys had the moment of choice, to be actually mother to her people. Take her dragons and go to the dead city with her khalaasar and make it bloom again — which would be the definition of mother of her people — instead she choses the path west, the path of war, because the dragons made all the difference.

This is important and it is the second aware choice she makes after the pyre, after becoming the Mother of Dragons (her first choice is the possibly half-unaware choice to sacrifice Rhaego for Drogo, and then Drogo, the stallion, Mirri and herself to raise again with three dragons to her breast) — in fact it is told in the book that the frightened child Illyrio gave as bride to Khal Drogo, the mother of his unborn child, died and was born again as a real Targaryen in fire and blood — and in fact her own fury takes charge of charcter exactly in that moment, when Daenerys realizes what she has done, and accuses Mirri of it). From thereon is a downhill path.

She must not have tears in her eyes, but the flames of the drago's fury when she faces her allies and enemies. Slowly but surely, her fury burns all vestiges of her character as mother. The fact that Martin makes her title pile up with the common theme of motherhood is to highlight how little of a mother her character is.

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I. — Daenerys II, ADWD

"None, this one grieves to confess. We beg your pardon."

Mercy, thought Dany. They will have the dragon's mercy. "Skahaz, I have changed my mind. Question the man sharply." "I could. Or I could question the daughters sharply whilst the father looks on. That will wring some names from him." "Do as you think best, but bring me names." Her fury was a fire in her belly. — Daenerys II, ADWD

Up until now, and for every other character associated with the mother, the defense of the children is foremost. And yet Daenerys' children are the dragons, and not even her being Mhysa, saves the girls (girls who are innocent of their father's eventual misdeeds) from torture.

The woman who crucified free men, without any kind of inquiry or investigation, for the crucified children, tortures children to defend men and soldier who should be able to defend themselves. Which is the difference between the soldiers killed and the girls tortured? The girls have no purpose for her, her unsullied being killed put a stain to her reputation and weakens her resources for the campaign west. You can't get much more different from the Virgin Mary than this. Or the thematic Mother. Her song is the songs of the dragons.

Sansa Stark ~ Mother of the North — teach us all a kinder way

Of all the big characters, Sansa is the only one who yet has not known pregnancy or the loss of a child. And yet, she is the character that best embodies the Mother and her mercy and compassion.

Cersei, Daenerys, even Catelyn have turned their mercy off due the trauma they endured. Not Sansa.

The trauma she endured taught Sansa a kinder way. Sansa shows compassion, mercy and gentleness from day one.

She begs Joffrey the stop his squabble with Arya and the butcher boy, hoping she might soothe his wrath; later she pleads for Jeyne to be reunited with her lord father, and she asks mercy for her lord father in open court — kneeling before Joffrey as the Virgin Mary knelt before the cross — she thinks, naively, that the love Joffrey bears her will ensure that her closeness will sooth his fury against her lord father and ensure Ned is pardoned and alive.

She's wrong, and Joffrey shows her so by executing Ned, showing her his head (and her septa's), by beating her for every victory Robb won and mistreating her for her sin of ‘having the blood of a wolf’.

And yet, despite all she endures at the hands of the Lannisters, Sansa still acts. She stills comforts the women during the siege (duty which should have befallen on Cersei), she still helps saving Lancel's life (even though he has taken part of her humiliation and beatings), she speaks out (when no one else did) to save Dontos, she still prays for Tyrion and the Hound, who have shown her a speck of decency (if confronted to the others, which is very below the line of decency but that doesn't figure for Sansa, what little they have done, sparks her compassion for them). Sansa's thoughts go to all, the old and the young, the mothers and the children as well as the soldiers when she prays during the siege of KL.

It's Sansa's doing that the woman with the dead babe is not killed, as she is the one who manipulates Joffrey to give her coin instead of death.

Her singing the hymn of the Mother not only reassures the women, but it also soothes the wrath and fury of the Hound, who had come to rape her. Her singing the hymn of the Mother softens him to her, and he doesn't harm her physically — though he has traumatized her to the point she resorts to romancing the entire encounter to suppress the trauma she suffered at his hands — saving her life and possibly being a pivotal momento for the Hound's future story.

Sansa has become, despite lady Lysa' betrayal, the primary caretaker of her cousin Robert, and she's being a mother to him. It is hinted at, that Sansa will possibly uncover LF' plot to have Robert poisoned and put a stop to it.

Sansa dreams of children, whereas Cersei dreams of the Iron throne, Lady Stoneheart doesn't dream but of vengeance and Daenerys dreams of the Last Dragon.

Sansa's children are foretold to become lords/ladies of Winterfell and restore the North, just as their mother. LF, Lysa and Lady Waynwood all want to use her and her claim, and her son (Ned Stark's grandson)'s claim to take Winterfell and exercise power over the North; the same thing Tywin wanted to do by marrying her to Tyrion.

For now Sansa is still a virgin too.

Even Jon, defending Sansa's claim reminds us that Winterfell is supposed to fall in Sansa's hands and later in her children's.

Another important piece for this analysis comes from this thought:

In the sept they sing for the Mother's mercy but on the walls it's the Warrior they pray to, and all in silence. She remembered how Septa Mordane used to tell them that the Warrior and the Mother were only two faces of the same great god. But if there is only one, whose prayers will be heard? — Sansa V, ACOK

It's Sansa the one who chooses which prayer to be heard.

She silently steels herself as the Warrior, and her weapons are the compassion and mercy of the Mother.

"Unhand me. You forget yourself." "Mercy. I have been singing love songs for hours. My blood is stirred. And yours, I know . . . there's no wench half so lusty as one bastard born. Are you wet for me?" "I'm a maiden," she protested. — Sansa VI, ASOS

Sansa in her compassion is capable to feel sorry even for Marillion, who tried to rape her and stood by as Lysa attempted to kill her. She feels dirty and sorry and guilty because she has let LF convince her to frame him for Lysa' murder, even though he would not have raised a finger to save her and in the last chapters of her as Alayne we see how this is the pivotal moment which marks her completely breaking from LF' hold. She is against framing Marillion, she'd give him mercy if she could, and this moment marks her return to Sansa Stark, because it's the moment in which more starkly she feels the difference between Ned Stark, her real father, and LF, her false father.

Honorable mentions — Lyanna, Lysa and Elia ~ save our sons from war, we pray

Lyanna Stark —› Lyanna is little more than a child when she meets Rhaegar and bears his son. While we are still in the unknown about how things have gone in the books for Lyanna dn Rhaegar and the show frames it as a romantic escape, I feel confident in saying that as such (or not only as such) it will be in the books. Lyanna only three phrases known are: “Promise me, Ned”, “That's my father's man you are kicking!” and “Love is sweet, but it cannot change a man's nature”. Given this, I would think there is much more underneath the eloping lady to Lyanna, and it will be tragic. And yet, her most important quote is Promise me, Ned. It's the phrase that saved her son, the phrase that saved Jon. Whatever else, Lyanna is a girl, and a mother. A mother who lost her life, and as she did her only thought was the protection of her son. Elia Martell —› Elia is the mother of the butchered children. Being a mother is the core fundation of her character, she risked her life to bear her children, she nursed them at her breast and potentially plotted in a capital against her to save at least her son. Elia showed same as Lyanna that often the strength of women is not in the sword that they may wield, but in their love for their children. Lysa Arryn —› Lysa undoubtedly loves her son, and yet she, if left alone to care for him, would've been his ruin. She is convinced Jon Arryn was speaking about Robert when he spoke about the seed being strong. In her paranoia and fear for her son, she stays neutral during the WO5K, and, later out of madness she attempts to kill her own niece for her jealousy over a man who never was hers to begin with.

Now, that would be enough, but it is not, since part of the whole matter was Daenerys as a foil to the Virgin Mary.

The Virgin Mary ~ Hail Mary, full of grace

Now, we've seen the hymn of the Mother in asoiaf, but what about the prayer of the Virgin Mary? (before we delve into her figure and her traits).

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and in the hour of our death. Amen.

As you can see the hymn of the Mother shares some points with the Hail Mary. And that common trait is the compassion the Mother and the Virgin Mary are the embodiment of.

Mary prays for the sinners, even the same sinners who have crucified her son, always. And that is the cifra of her blessing, she's so pure and “holy” that the Almighty chose her to bear his son, who was born with the purpose of cleanse man of the original sin, and later didn't make her die, but rose her to the heavens, where, as per Dante's and the Church's vision she sits at the place of honor of the Heaven.

In the Divina Commedia, the structure of the heaven itself (once Dante has went through the several skies) is an embodiment of Mary's blessing, as it's a sort of rows of seat ordained in a way that forms a flower...

... wanna guess which one? You guessed it... A ROSE. The celestial rose.

As you can see, Mary has the place of honor, (a woman, has the seat of honor above the men, let that sink in — that was the kind of veneration which surrounds the Virgin Mary). The Virgin is even put in a better seat than Peter and Adam.

Of all the women of asoiaf there is one who is given a rose — in the current timeline, obv — and two more whose' fate was decided by a rose in the past, plus one who is given flowers, but they do not bode well for her.

Yeah, it's Sansa Stark. Sansa is not only given a rose during the tourney to celebrate her father, but she's given the ONLY red rose. Also she's framed as the blue rose (so the rare flower as the blue rose is framed behind her in several instances in the show). The rose of Winterfell, whose son became king in the north.

And if you think about it, Daenerys is given flowers too, but which flowers?, she's given Dusk Rose, Lady's Lace, and Harpy's Gold.

The dusk rose which represents healing — and it connects to the plague in Meereen and the drastic measures that Daenerys is foreshadowed to take once she returns and decides that the compassion she has shown has been spat in her face — it has a purple color, that not only symbolizes royalty, but also of poison (as the poison Daenerys is given in Meereen and that possibly makes her miscarry after she flees, which is a pivotal moment which marks her turning all dragon — as I've analyzed in this post).

The Lady's Lace is possibly inspired by Queen Anne's Lace which is connected with attracting love — and we know one of Daenerys' betrayal will come from love or for of love — and whilst its bloom was believed to cure epilepsy, do you know how people in the ancient times used the seeds of this flower?, to avoid pregnancies or to terminate an unwanted pregnancy, and modern studies tell us there is merit in this ancient medicine for the flower can be dangerous for a pregnant woman. Need I say more? With Daenerys at least one miscarriage, plus probably others she has not recognized as such.

And yes, the Harpy's Gold is a poisonous plant albeit very beautiful. And can a flower symbolize Daenerys as much?, I said once, I'll say again that her names imo comes from the alliteration of Deianira and Iris (which mean in turns “destroyer of men” and “very beautiful woman”). The Harpy's Gold is purple, as Daenerys' eyes.

And obviously the two women in the past whose fate was sealed by roses are Lyanna and Elia, for Rhaegar' naming Lyanna queen of love and beauty. And it ended in tragedy, both women dead, their children either survived by chance and in hiding or killed cruelly.

Also, both sons of these women “resurrect” : Aegon metaphorically by claiming his birthright and his identity after hiding behind his false death and Jon by actually being raised from death.

And what about the Virgin's traits, you might ask?

First of all, the New Testament describes Mary as a woman of such humility and obedience to the message of God that she is chosen to carry his son.

(And I have already discussed on the matter of humility and arrogance of Sansa vs Daenerys, here and here).

On the top of that, Daenerys knows that there are Gods, but she annoverates herself between them:

“Up here in her garden Dany sometimes felt like a god, living atop the highest mountain in the world. Do all Gods feel so lonely?” (— Daenerys VI, ASOS);

whilst, Sansa, despite all the trauma and tragedy she has endured thinks:

“There are gods, she told herself, and there are true knights too. All the stories can't be lies.” (— Sansa IV, ACOK).

Mary has royal blood, and through her blood Jesus descends from royalty too. And, since infancy she has been known for her piety, beauty, gentleness and her devotion.

She's determined in her faith, and she never once turns her fury against the Lord for the tragedy that strikes her life (her son's death), she instead closes herself in prayer and guide others who follow her example.

“Was he mocking her? It wasn't the gods who'd been cruel, it was Joffrey.” — Sansa I, ACOK

“What had she ever done to make the gods so cruel?” — Daenerys VII, AGOT

And whilst the Magi (the three kings who bear gifts for Jesus under a comet) reminds me of Maegi (Mirri who calls herself godswife. With the consequent death of Rhaego, Daenerys' blood sacrifice and the red comet in the sky) here it defines even more the foils:

Daenerys receives “gifts” from her misadventure with Mirri, three dragons as three were the gifts borne by the Magi to Jesus. The point is this:

No. You are the blood of the dragon. The whispering was growing fainter, as if Ser Jorah were falling farther behind. Dragons plant no trees. Remember that. Remember who you are, what you were made to be. Remember your words. "Fire and Blood," Daenerys told the swaying grass.— Daenerys X, ADWD

There is in Egypt, near Cairo, the Virgin Mary's Tree, where the Holy Family took at first respite whilst they escaped Herod's fury. Which speaks of Mary's nurture.

Instead the gifts the Magi gives Jesus are supposed to show for his status, whilst Daenerys receives three dragons she uses to subjugate three cities in Slavers Bay.

On the other hand, Sansa is given three gifts as well, in a way, when the comet pass. Her “betrothed — the dragon's heir” (yes this is Jonsa, because Aegon is meant for Arianne, fight me on this and Jon is already defending her birthright which is attacked on all sides); the support of the Knights of the Vale (which will help her from her exile back in her homeland) and I think it's foreshadowed also the help of the Mountain Clans&the Riverlands. As Ned and Catelyn's daughter.

(paraphrasing, she receives three gifts: her compassion, her political cleverness and her honor as well; which will grant her the three above).

Another important aspect I am reminded of, in the books and show, is that, before showing for the first time his miracles, Jesus looks at Mary and awaits for her approval.

Before changing the water in wine, Jesus — who had mostly hidden his miracles for his own safety — looks at Mary and asks her approval, approval she gives by nodding and giving him way for it is time.

Which reminds me of the way Jon (resurrected one) works in tandem with Sansa, he doesn't do everything with her approval, but damn if her approval and her way of thinking doesn't shape him as a king and as a man. Look at the times Sansa nods to him, and approves of him when he is named king.

Haven't seen that in Daenerys, as she is the woman who takes her son's place (she wanted to put Rhaego on the throne even before Viserys died, and then with his death she assumes that role; as well as that of the Stallion who mounts the world, or so she thinks) instead of the woman who is foreshadowed to bring back her son to his homeland or giving her homeland the heir needed, her and later her child.

"Balon Greyjoy thinks in terms of plunder, not rule. Let him enjoy an autumn crown and suffer a northern winter. He will give his subjects no cause to love him. Come spring, the northmen will have had a bellyful of krakens. When you bring Eddard Stark's grandson home to claim his birthright, lords and little folk alike will rise as one to place him on the high seat of his ancestors. — Tyrion III, ASOS

On the top of that Daenerys is barren, so she has no virtual, nor real, heir to her throne; instead Sansa is foreshadowed not only to become queen, but to birth kings/queens. It's the core of her character, restoring the North and rebuilding House Stark.

Mary is the first believer, and she is considered embodiment of the Woman (the perfect example of woman all women should strive to replicate) and the Church itself.

In the same way as Sansa is the epitome of the princess of a song, but she's also the North, she's House Stark — she's the one building Winterfell back from snow — and did you know there is in Italy the Holy Mary Lady of the Snows?, and do you know where is her primary sanctuary? In the city of Sanza. I'm not even joking, look it up!: city of Sanza, 5th of august, Madonna delle Nevi.

Mindblowing, isn't it?

Instead, as the flames are epitome of the Hells, there is not, to my knowledge a Holy Mary associated with the flames, though there is another Holy Mary who is associated with stopping the flames. You know which one is her name?, Holy Mary of the riverbank (yeah I am not joking, again — in the city of Cuneo, there is the Madonna della Riva) who apparently appeared and stopped the flames that were burning the city and had sparked from the sanctuary, saving the people from the fires.

I mean... it doesn't get clearer than that, doesn't it?

And that's it (for now, I've long since learned that no serie of metas is ever done with)

I mean, I knew this one would turn monstrously long (totally blame @esther-dot and @minitafan for this one, which is half classical theme of the Mother and half biblical), but I hope you enjoyed!

As always, if there is someone who is an expert and wants to adds their two cents, be my guests!

Sending all my love~G.

#sansa stark #anti daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #dark daenerys #the biblical series #the role of the mother #foils and parallels #cersei lannister #catelyn stark #lady stoneheart #there's always a side dish of Jonsa #it just makes sense #it was so long I had to reset the paragraphs because they were too many #enough said #ask the hag

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bored-storyteller · 8 months

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VERY LONG POST

It was supposed to be a little rant about Twisted Wonderland, it became a treatise (no, but almost):

So, I love the Diasomnia book. It's soooo good (also considering the type of game).

Lilia is enchanting me, Meleanor (or Malenoa) has enchanted me. She couldn't be more beautiful than this. We've seen her so little and yet in my opinion she is one of the most successful characters in Twisted Wonderland. She is the summary of what Twisted Wonderland should be, the dark side that reconciles with unconditional love. And with her being mother she introduces the concept which is the basis of Lilia and Silver (and also Malleus I presume), that is the concept of "true love". It's a blow to the heart, it's the key to development that can completely change things.

Ah, but then you know how to do things well.

And here comes my complaint: I start directly from the game first. I understand that Diasomnia is the main dorm and that Malleus (where are you Malleus?) is our front man. All right. But if they can do something like that now, then they could do at least half of this for the other characters too. Did they do it? Obviously not, or at least not for the most part. No, because if the other media have to come and explain to us the underlying reasons for the other Overblots then something is wrong. If to understand what the guys who are alongside us are doing and what they think I have to read the novel then yes, I get a little angry. Because they knows how to do things for heaven's sake.

Mind you, I'm not saying that Diasomnia can't have more screentime (also because they're giving us information on world building and who says anything), I'm simply talking about good writing and commitment to the characters that have been created. Also because there are already problems of opinion, if the writing is lascivious and incomprehensible, well, see you!

And here's the second point. I don't usually make posts like this, but this comes following a post I saw (I won't say how or where), where there was a clear devaluation of the other chapters and character issues in favor of Diasomnia. So, as much as can be forgivable addressing imaginary characters in a certain way (yes, they are all invented, they have neither merits nor demerits for being what they are, only the tragedy of being written badly in some cases), the treating some topics such as those of Riddle, or Azul or Jamil lightly or insensitively is questionable to say the least. And it can be offensive.

Just as I'm tired of hearing that Leona's problem is "jealousy". No, and even if the writing of the Savanaclaw arc (let alone the translation) doesn't help, no. He's not just jealous, just as Vil isn't just jealous. But I'm not here to do psychological analysis of characters that probably some wouldn't even understand.

You may not understand, yes, we have the right to not understand (especially, I repeat, given the weaknesses that are in the game). Fine, but it's our limit and we keep our head down and we keep quiet, or ask for things to be explained to us. There is no need to devalue, insult or mock the characters, because those characters are loved by someone, and there is a reason they are chosen. Revelation: no, if you like something you don't do it any good by devaluing the rest, but rather you throw that thing in the mud too. I'm not just talking about Twisted Wonderland, I'm also talking about your favorite author, your book or your anime character.

Guys, it's a matter of respect, you are not superior to anyone, and you are few. Come on, we are together, everyone waves their flag but high fives with those who are next to you.

This post has become very long, so I'm closing it, if anyone has something to dispute please, with all due respect.

Have a good day!

P.s. Sorry if I put this post here, I would like to put it on my personal blog but I haven't yet found the will to solve the access problems. I hope you forgive me.

#twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar #malleus draconia #vil schoenheit #jamil viper #azul ashengrotto #idia shroud #riddle rosehearts #diasomnia #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #pomefiore #ignihyde #octavinelle #scarabia #kalim al asim #I will never make a post like this again #i'm just annoyed #now I want to write for Leona but I don't know what

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pikachiee · 4 months

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Some of my ideas in my " Lila the evil" au.

Anyways.. there's Lilix/felila on my " Lila the evil" au lol

I have so many other ideas with my au, that it's straying very far from the original concept. So I'm gonna talk about some of it, because, I felt like :) and I will eventually draw it. So I'm just gonna be rant about my ideas, at least the ones I'm not too lazy to write about lol.

So a bit of a rant below:

Mostly of Felix x Lila

And some spelling and grammar mistakes.

Anyways, Felix's design is all over the place in my head. But he's supposed to be looking like Lila's superior ( because he is. ) He's still gonna be wearing so much black lol.

And I fully intend on making Lila Italian. But she just was raised in " empire". Many people notice that she looks a lot different than what the other people did, but she didn't seem to mind too much.

Basically, Lila is an orphan. She didn't know who her family was, and what was even her name. So, she often traveled around the desolate streets in search of money or something. Many people helped her out ( cute kid duh), they were shocked that she didn't even have a name and named her all sorts of different names. Each name didn't mean much to her, and she just used it lie.

( I also have a reason for why she names herself as " Lila" but it's somewhat edgy, and I'm planning on making a short comic about it.)

Anyways, long story short she's an orphan. She lies about that to everyone though. And often claims that she's from a small yet noble family. Most people believe her ( *cough* kagami), except Felix. He's kinda done with her lies, but stays with her. The formal reason is because his dear uncle asked him to look after her.. but really he's curious about her.

I'm planning on keeping Felix, kagami and Adrian as sentimonsters. But have Felix and kagami be at least somewhat aware. All his life Felix has always been by the books, and following whatever order his father or superiors tell him. He's gotten so good at obeying and killing it's second nature to him. ( And I feel like he would be a sniper guy lol) It's a breath of fresh air, when he mets Lila.

Lila finds a way to bend the rules and commands in the most perfect way so that they would benefit her, and if it doesn't she simply won't do it. That's something Felix never really seen, since his most close friend other than his mother or Adrian is kagami who is exactly like him.

In this au, due to how perfectly " obedient" Felix is. He's called the " empire's dog", which is supposed to be a menacing title. But Lila takes that opportunity to make fun of him, and make "dog" jokes.

Since Lila was an orphan living in the slums of a war like country, she's had absolutely nothing to lose. That's why she's such a monster in that au, and why she likes to screw with Felix. Sure she's a complete Liar, but she's not just lying to be popular. She's doing it to live comfortably.

Felix is very good at observing, and he notices how her lies don't match up. Like how she claims to taste very fancy food, yet fawns over every dessert they have. Felix can tell she's.. not what she's saying she is. But doesn't expose her.

I made this romance not only because I like the ship, but it works well enough in my au.

Felix is somewhat relieved that she doesn't confuse him with Adrian ( they never met lol), and finds her fascinating and somewhat adorable.

While Lila never had actual friends before, or even a real family. But every time he protects her from certain death ( with how much Lila provokes people, it becomes way too common ). And genuinely sees her, as her. He sees past her lies, and sees.. well her. All her life she makes sure to give everyone what they want to see.. so it's very unnerving and interesting Felix is to Lila. Since no matter what lie she makes, Felix finds a way to prove the truth.

They're both monsters, yet they find a sense of care with each other. They both have committed heinous acts, each with a reason why. But they both know that their sins won't be forgiven so easily. So, they enjoy it while they can. The power and the luxury, at least that's what Lila plans to do and Felix will follow.

Sure they're not entirely sure how loyal or likely each one is to stab them it the back. But they find solitude with each other. Knowing that they can be monsters together.

There's more but I'm about to pass out lol.

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effortandmore · 1 year

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the restitution coefficient | ksj x knj (18+)

summary: seokjin has everything going for him. he was one of the youngest people to make VP at his company, at the top of his class in college, is a bit of a racquet sport savant, an excellent cook, and good-looking. like, really good looking. according to people other than his mother, thank you very much. so, when things around him start to crumble because of one stubborn and annoyingly attractive client, he finds himself looking for vindication in a place he's sure he can’t be beat—the annual office ping pong tournament.

pairing: seokjin x namjoon

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: office/co-worker au, enemies (seokjin thinks so, anyway) to lovers, smut, fluff, minor angst

warnings: smut, swearing, mentions of alcohol, seokjin is bad at communicating, bad puns (at least i make myself laugh). here are the specific smut tags: kissing, oral sex, they're soft and annoying and seokjin talks too much

word count: 15.6k

a/n: hello! if you know anything about me, you know i love namjin v much, so here is my first namjin fic. it's my contribution to the Catch of the Century collab to celebrate jin's birthday. i had fun writing it, i hope you have fun reading it. thank you so much to @ugh-yoongi and @the-boy-meets-evil for reading this over for me—and to @hot-soop for the banner! you're all so lovely and i am grateful. you can read this on ao3 if like me, you prefer it for reading

There is a Kim Seokjin who still feels, most days, like a nervous kid. This Seokjin wears his coziest hoodies on the weekends and plays video games until his eyes burn and sometimes forgets to eat and shower. He is an introvert, he is insecure sometimes, he is just trying his best.

But there is also a Kim Seokjin who thinks, “never let them see you sweat,” who is quick to a one-liner, and who has, for his whole life, been faking it until he makes it. And, he supposes, by most accounts, he has made it (for better or worse).

For this version of him, there’s no question that Seokjin is the best. It's an indisputable fact, on par with universally known truths like gravity and… Well, he can’t think of too many more right this moment, but suffice it to say that his (put-on) superiority is well-known within his circle of friends, around the office, probably to passers by on the street, even.

He was the youngest person to make VP at his company (except for his boss, Min Yoongi), at the top of his class in college, is a bit of a racquet sport savant, an excellent cook, and good-looking. Like, really good looking. According to people other than his mother, thank you very much.

But her, too. Obviously.

And this is true for all the different versions of him: it’s all come relatively easy. Sure, he works hard sometimes—he studied in school, he has a diligent skincare routine, he devotes weekends to the gym and to his gaming hobby, he takes tennis lessons and plays table tennis nearly every day. So, it’s not like things have just been handed to him. Maybe they’ve been made easier because of his looks, a little natural aptitude, a lot of charisma… (And the ability to convince himself and everyone around him that he’s doing great). It’s just that even when he’s had to try, he hasn’t had to try that hard. He’s never struggled, not really. This persona he puts on, it works for him. It’s helped him get more than he ever thought he deserved.

And as anyone would, he likes it this way.

And he really doesn’t like it when things don’t come as easily as he’s used to.

Because that makes him feel like the other Seokjin, the one he doesn’t really want anyone else to see and who he doesn’t want to see reflected at him when he looks in the mirror.

It’s the feeling of things not clicking for him that has him down in the basement of the tall, gray office building he works in, grunting and sweating, frustration coming out of him by way of a series of steady thwacking sounds.

“You’re scaring me a little today,” Jungkook pants, face flushed. They’ve been at it for over thirty minutes and Seokjin’s usually done by now, ready to flash a brilliant grin, straighten his tie, and ride the elevator back up to his office to close another deal.

“Just—thwack… so—thwack… annoying—thwack…” Seokjin isn’t in the same shape as Jungkook. He’s leaner, less muscle, but has a little more stamina for cardio like this. He wouldn’t dare challenge the other man to a lifting contest, but at this, he’s sure he can win.

He always wins.

Jungkook sighs when he misses his next shot just wide of the blue table. Seokjin can’t help the satisfied smile spreading across his face when he wins again, just like he does every day. He makes sure to wait until Jungkook’s paying attention before he throws his arms up in victory and shouts something unintelligible about being the greatest of all time. This win is exactly what he needed today.

“Congratulations,” Jungkook says, softly as always, which is a little funny because Seokjin knows he’s a confident kid; good at his work, strong, attractive, smart (reminds Seokjin a little of himself, if he’s being honest). “Another ping pong victory must feel good.”

Coming from anyone else, it might have come across as sarcastic, but not from Jungkook. He’s almost always earnest. Seokjin can’t relate; he moves through the world by keeping anything too honest tucked deep down inside. But he envies his coworker for it a little (and will never, ever admit that out loud).

“It does,” he says, unrolling the sleeves of his button-down. “Even though it’s called table tennis. How many times do we have to go over this?” And then more to himself than his companion, “I needed that.” It’s as transparent as he cares to be.

“Do you want to talk about the deal?”

Seokjin scoffs. “No. It’ll be fine, I’ll make sure it gets sorted out.”

And he means it. He will. He’s Kim Seokjin—he always wins. Maybe this one will just take a bit longer than it should have.

The deal is big. It’s really big; that’s why he’s involved in the first place. Usually he’s overseeing things these days; it’s a perk of being the VP of sales. He assigns his team to deals; doesn’t take the lead on them anymore. Jungkook, with his wide eyes and easy smile, is one of his best sales directors and gets most of the large contracts assigned to him. But this one was too important, so Seokjin took the client on himself, confident he could close in the first quarter.

Except it’s about four in the afternoon on 31 March, and he hasn’t closed the deal. He won’t today. For the first time in recent memory, Kim Seokjin needs to admit defeat. Which is why he really needed to at least win that fucking table tennis game.

When the elevator doors open on the top floor of the office tower, he’s sure he’s got everything under control. He’ll march into Yoongi’s office with all the quarterly sales numbers and explain that while yes, this deal was Very Important, certainly closing it in the second quarter won’t be a problem—his team has met their goals for the first quarter. In fact, it’s possible that Seokjin is really doing the company a favor by postponing this deal… It will help to pad April’s figures, which is usually a slow time for new contracts.

Yes, he thinks, this is all plausible, reasonable. Foolproof.

The smug smile on his face withers, however, when he passes Yoongi’s office on the way to his own and sees the CEO of the company already has a visitor. His assistant clears his throat, just loud enough to get Seokjin’s attention. “Yoongi-ssi asked to see you in his office when your meeting with Jungkook was done.” And then he adds in a hushed tone, “I think you’re in trouble.”

Taehyung smirks when he says it and it’s enough to sap all of the remaining joy out of Seokjin’s body. Why does he keep such a shithead assistant around, anyway? He’s the Kim Seokjin—he doesn’t deserve to be mocked by someone who works for him.

“You’re in trouble,” he retorts, immediately regretting it. It’s weak and he knows it. He’s too distracted to come up with anything better, though, so before Taehyung can give him another smartass comment in return, he continues. “Who’s in there with him?”

Taehyung just shrugs. “Some client, I think. You could ask Jimin if you really want to know. But they’re waiting for you.”

“You know,” Jin says as he straightens his tie and starts walking toward his boss’ office, “he’d hate knowing you called him Yoongi-ssi.” Yoongi tends to be casual with them in the office, which always throws Seokjin off a little—he prefers to draw boundaries between work and his personal life.

“Ooh…” And Jin can almost hear the smirk on Taehyung’s lips. “What do you think he does to bad boys?”

“You’re disgusting,” Jin calls over his shoulder.

His assistant lets out a giggle and Jin rolls his eyes even though he’s trying not to laugh, too. He’ll never let Yoongi’s assistant, Jimin, see him smiling as he passes toward Yoongi’s office. He’d have to admit how much he loves Taehyung. Not going to happen.

Observing through Yoongi’s floor-to-ceiling glass walls, Seokjin is sure that his assistant is wrong about the man in there with his boss. Because Seokjin would remember this client. He can only see the back of the man’s body, but it’s enough of a look to know that it’s a figure Seokjin would have committed to memory if he’d ever been fortunate enough to encounter it in person. The man is broad across the shoulders (but not as broad as Jin) and his honey brown hair skims across his neck in a manner that’s meant to look haphazard, but probably cost as much as one’s of Jin’s own haircuts. Or more.

Maybe it’s that the man is less gifted when it comes to his facial features and that’s why Jin doesn’t remember.

He knocks on Yoongi’s door with a couple quick raps and then pushes it open and steps in. He should bow, probably, he should say something, but he sees the client’s face and he is… uncharacteristically speechless. There is nothing wrong with the client’s face. Except that it’s pretty close to fucking perfect. The man stands, and oh… he’s tall. Big. Big everywhere, Jin thinks.

The perfect man, which is what he is now known as in Jin’s mind, reaches his hands out and gives a wide, dimpled grin.

It takes all of Jin’s years of practice in presenting a careful image for him to smile back professionally—although he’s pretty sure he’s the color of a tomato, and about to just say “dimples” instead of anything coherent.

“Seokjin-ssi, it’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Kim Namjoon!”

And, oh… That is… a problem.

“Kim Namjoon?”

“Yes?”

And god, he’s being rude, he realizes. He shoves his hands forward mechanically and shakes the actually-not-perfect man’s hands and bows his head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Namjoon-ssi.” Because Namjoon is a client. He is the client; the one who won’t close this fucking deal with Seokjin—the one who is causing him to lose beauty sleep and eat hotteok outside of his cheat days and has possibly caused not one, but two stress pimples to appear on Jin’s face in the last month. The client he’s only ever spoken to exclusively on the phone because he doesn’t know how to use his webcam. He’s the single most infuriating person Jin has never met. Until now. When they are meeting. And Kim Namjoon is unfortunately gorgeous and tall and apparently nice even though Jin wants to shake him by the shoulders and start begging for him to sign the contract already.

“Have a seat, Jin,” Yoongi says in a calm voice that Jin very much wishes did not have the undercurrent of amusement in it that it most definitely does.

So, he sits next to Namjoon and gathers himself for whatever it is that’s happening here. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Namjoon is still smiling, and Jin can’t decide if that means he’s not about to be fired in front of their most important potential client or that Namjoon is taking pleasure in the fact that Jin is about to be fired in front of him.

“You’re not in trouble,” Yoongi says, mercifully.

Seokjin lets out a high-pitched, nervous cackle, snaps his mouth shut immediately after, regrets most of his life choices, and then swallows any dignity he has remaining and nods. It’s a long three seconds. “Of course not. Thank you for the reassurance.”

A few more mildly torturous seconds pass where no one speaks, and Seokjin starts to sweat like he’s in the middle of another table tennis game with Jungkook. It’s not quite his worst nightmare, but having his most difficult client sitting less than a meter away from him on the day he failed to close the biggest deal his company’s had in the pipeline in a long time comes… pretty close to the top of the list.

“So…” he starts, hoping he sounds slightly more composed than he feels inside, “What brings you here Namjoon-ssi?”

Kim Namjoon straightens up in his chair before leaning unfortunately closer to Seokjin. He looks positively pleased to be in Yoongi’s office, dimples more prominent than when Seokjin walked into the office and eyes bright. “Well, first, I should apologize.”

It isn’t at all what Seokjin expected to hear and he doesn’t hate it, but it certainly seems like it’s going to be followed by a second thing that he strongly suspects he may not like quite as much.

“Not at all,” Seokjin replies, although there’s a small (large) part of him that does think his client should apologize for being so difficult to work with (and a little bit for not knowing how to use a webcam).

“I know working with my company hasn’t been the easiest for you,” Namjoon continues. And fuck, he’s got this bashful sort of grin he gives like he’s embarrassed and contrite and so fucking handsome Seokjin might forget to breathe a little bit. And forget to respond. When he stops staring at his client, he sees Yoongi watching him expectantly with a smirk on his face.

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Seokjin finally says. It comes out in a bit of a rush as he waves a hand in polite dismissal. “You’ve been a pleasure to work with.” He hates the words as they come out of his mouth, because he’s a lot of things, but he’s not really a liar. Not like this. Kim Namjoon has been a complete pain in his ass to work with. To reiterate: he can’t use a webcam. And that’s not all! He asks for the most minute changes to every single document Seokjin and his team provide. He takes forever to make the smallest of decisions and then proceeds to change his mind about them quite literally hundreds of times before he finally settles.

“I’m glad you think so,” Yoongi chimes in, “because you and Namjoon-ssi are going to be working together much more closely for a while.”

Seokjin looks between Yoongi and Namjoon waiting for more explanation. He’s not sure how he could possibly work more closely with Namjoon. This project has been his entire life for months. He has been eating, sleeping, and breathing this deal and the only thing that takes up more of his time than closing the deal lately is wondering why a grown adult who is the Vice President of Operations for a fairly large company can’t use Zoom.

He chokes down every pained, sarcastic comment couched in a joke he might want to make and gives his most winning smile to his boss. “That sounds great,” he says. He’s almost sure it doesn’t sound like he wants to cry.

But he does want to cry. Especially when Namjoon beams in his direction and nods, excited like a retriever. “I think so, too, Seokjin-ssi! I’m looking forward to this so much.”

Swallowing the large lump that’s forming in his throat, he smiles back. “So, so great…” he mutters. “So… exciting.”

***

Over the weekend, he sort of has time to process the drastic turn his work life is about to take. Kim Namjoon, Vice President of Operations for one of the country’s most prominent seed and soil companies, is coming to work out of his office. Not the building, mind you, but Seokjin’s very own perfectly-curated-to-his-own-tastes-and-not-big-enough-to-share office.

It’s enough to make his face break out with a third pimple.

Yoongi and Namjoon had dreamt up some ridiculous theory that Namjoon’s boss, the CEO of the seed and soil company, might be willing to sign the deal with just a few more adjustments to the contract and a well-constructed pitch video. Namjoon says he wants the software that Seokjin has to offer, says he knows it will streamline work for his front-line employees, but his boss is apparently… particular. Hard to please.

Theoretically, it should make him feel better that Namjoon claims to have not actually been the blocker to getting this deal signed. He says he’s nothing more than a middle-man; trying to convince his boss that Seokjin’s software will be a win for them. Theoretically, he should have laughed when Namjoon said he’d been spending the last few months “planting the seed” about how helpful the software would be with his boss. Seokjin loves puns. But loves them most when he’s the one making them; loves them a little bit less when they’re delivered by his nemesis and then immediately followed with a bashful grin and two impossible to ignore dimples.

As he gets ready for work on Monday morning, he still can’t laugh at Namjoon’s bad joke, and he doesn’t feel better about having to share his space. He feels inadequate and annoyed (and he knows at least Yoongi will be able to read it on his face—probably Jungkook and Taehyung, too. This makes him vulnerable, like a gazelle in a Richard Attenborough narration. He can’t think of anything worse) and he hates those feelings almost as much as he hates the circumstances.

It doesn’t help that it’s one of those mornings where nothing is going his way. He did get that third pimple over the weekend (and a fourth if anyone’s counting—Jimin will be), and he accidentally squirted concealer all over his bathroom mirror when he was trying to cover up said pimples. He must’ve made his coffee in too much of a rush because there are grounds in it, and he missed his first alarm so he’s now forced to drink the sludgy coffee because he would have had to sacrifice his skincare routine in order to make a new pot, and he couldn’t bring himself to do that with the rough state of his chin.

After missing his usual train, he dashes through the wet, gray morning streets to the office from the later train. He spends the jog hoping he beats Taehyung there, because the last thing he’s in the mood for is taking shit from his own assistant for being late. It’s far more entertaining to be the shit-giver, and Taehyung and Jimin are easy targets—both usually late on Mondays, conspicuously arriving together with one of them in the same clothes they wore on Friday.

It’s not his lucky day.

“Hyung is late!” he hears a sing-song voice call as he emerges from the elevator. So many things are wrong with this scenario, the first being that Tae knows he’s not supposed to call Seokjin his hyung when their other coworkers can hear, and the second that Tae and Jimin are sitting atop Taehyung’s desk, pointedly not working and looking a little too pleased for a Monday morning in their bleak office building.

“What’s got you two so enthused?” he asks, setting his bag down by Tae’s desk, ignoring the use of the informal honorific, and adjusting his running-tousled necktie.

“It’s moving day!” Jimin replies cheerily, gesturing over his shoulder in the direction of Seokjin and Yoongi’s offices.

“I don’t see what there is to be excited about,” Seokjin mutters. Namjoon is in Yoongi’s office, gesturing enthusiastically as Yoongi watches him with that familiar half-amused grin on his face.

Taehyung reaches up and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Now, hyung, maybe this will be good for you. Help you loosen up.” He’s giving Seokjin a shit-eating grin when he adds, “I hear he’s really good at ping pong, too.”

Seokjin definitely should have scolded him for the hyung thing the first time.

Instead, he grabs his bag and takes a step back from the two assistants. “Table tennis. And don’t you have work to do?” he tells more than asks as he heads past them to his office.

“Try and have an open mind, hyung!” Jimin calls as Seokjin shuts the door.

Kids these days are so disrespectful.

In his office, another desk has been added. It’s not yet full with paperwork and photographs like Seokjin’s desk is, and he wonders for a moment if Namjoon will even bother. It’s not like he’s here permanently; there’s really no reason for him to get attached to the space. To Seokjin’s space.

There’s not much time to think about it before the door swings open. No one just comes in without knocking except Taehyung, so Seokjin doesn’t even look up from his screen before saying, “You need to knock it off with the hyung stuff when we’re in the office, you know?”

And Taehyung is generally unpredictable in his replies, but silence is never an option he indulges in, so when there’s no response, Seokjin knows something is wrong.

“Tae?”

He hears a throat clearing in response and just from the tone of the sound, he knows it’s not his assistant.

“Seokjin-ssi?”

“Oh, it’s you.”

“If by ‘you,’ you mean Namjoon, then yeah. It’s me. Do you think you could give me a hand?”

Namjoon is in the doorway to the office with a large box in his arms. Seokjin knows the box is large because Namjoon is large, one of the facts he’d managed to retain from their first in-person encounter, and the box conceals most of the upper-half of Namjoon’s body. All Seokjin can see above the box are his behind his glasses, and the stupid, stupid dimples on display.

He realizes that he hasn’t actually responded to Namjoon yet, a moment past when it turns awkward. Oops.

“Sure, what can I do?” he asks, standing from his desk.

“If you could just grab Ponyo, that would be great. Thanks Seokjin-ssi.”

“Ponyo?”

Namjoon gestures with his chin to the glass bowl stacked carefully atop the box he’s holding. “Ponyo. My fish.”

“Clever,” Jin says as he grabs the fishbowl.

“Ah, not really. But thank you. She’s a good companion, doesn’t talk back. And I’ve had her for a long time.”

“So you like the strong, silent type?”

When Seokjin looks up, Namjoon is staring back at him, wide-eyed, and he could swear there’s the hint of a flush on his cheeks. “Not exactly,” Namjoon mutters as he turns and sets the box down on his new desk.

“It was a joke, Namjoon-ssi.”

“Right. Of course.” Namjoon straightens his tie and won’t make eye contact. “Well, thank you for your help. I’ll leave you alone now. Well… not really alone. But…”

It’s going to be a long few weeks, Seokjin decides. He may not be Namjoon’s biggest fan, but it would be better for both of them if it wasn’t this awkward the whole time they’re sharing an office. So he extends an olive branch. “I’m going down to get some coffee. Would you like anything?”

Namjoon brightens immediately. “Thank you, Seokjin-ssi. Iced americano, please,” he says as he starts to pull his wallet out.

“My treat,” Seokjin replies, waving him off. “A ‘welcome’ gift, I guess.”

Namjoon smiles again—wide and really very pretty, Seokjin admits to himself reluctantly—as he gives a quick, shallow bow.

He’s so polite. Infuriating.

Seokjin can’t explain why getting out of his own office feels so much like a relief. This is the first time he’s found so much solace in an elevator ride. So far, Namjoon’s really not at all what Seokjin had made him out to be after months of tedious back and forth. But it’s best to exercise caution in these situations, he thinks. You never know when people are waiting for you to show your vulnerable side. And it’s only been five minutes of Namjoon being polite compared to months of him being the most difficult client Seokjin had ever had.

“Good morning, Seokjinnie!”

Seokjin assesses the lobby of the building quickly, making sure no one he knows heard the nickname. What’s with people not just using his name today, anyway?

“Morning, Hobi.”

“The usual, hyung?”

Hobi is a saint in a man’s body, this is something Seokjin knows for sure. He used to work in the office on the software development team, and about a year ago decided that the money wasn’t worth it. Seokjin envies him if he’s being honest, walking away from security in exchange for a chance at happiness isn’t a risk he’s ever been willing to take. But it worked for Hobi; he owns the small cafe in the lobby of the office building, and he does well for himself without working the grueling hours that he used to—the hours that Seokjin still works. Supplying all the office lackeys their daily caffeine dose suits Hobi, too, even if he does get flustered when the line is longer than one person.

If Seokjin was really interested in the highest quality drinks, he’d go a block down the street to the hipster shop where all the baristas are hot, but dicks. What Hobi provides is a different kind of comfort. He’s everyone’s friend—even someone sort of closed off like Seokjin can’t help but open up a bit to him. They’ve known each other for a few years now, and while he’s not sure he can call anyone his best friend, Hobi is pretty close. Countless movie nights and talks over chicken and beer have sort of cemented that.

Seokjin nods. “The usual and a large iced americano, too.”

Hobi pauses and lifts an eyebrow over his ridiculous glasses with yellow lenses.

“For the new guy,” Seokjin explains. “Just this once.”

“Oh! For Namjoonie! I should have known.” Hobi gives Seokjin a smirk and sets about making the drinks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

As soon as the question comes out of his mouth, he knows it shouldn’t have. It’s inevitable that he’ll regret asking.

“Nothing,” Hobi says, “he’s just… you know.”

“Yeah, I do,” Seokjin replies automatically, then realizes he sounds a little dreamy. “I mean… he’s fine. It’s polite to do something nice for the new guy. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything, obviously.” He’s definitely rambling now, and he can feel the tips of his ears turning pink. “It’s just coffee. And he’s a client,” he adds in spite of himself.

How the fuck does Hobi always do this? It’s a waste that he owns this coffee shop. He should be a fucking Interpol agent or something.

“Mmhmm.” It’s obvious Hobi sees right through him. Of course he does.

“He’s mostly insufferable,” Seokjin continues, trying to act nonchalant. “How do you know him, anyway?”

“Oh, Jinnie… I know all the cute boys in the building.” Hobi sets two drinks down on the counter next to the espresso machine. “Anything else on your mind?”

“I have to share my office with him.” This comes out of his mouth as a full-blown whine, far more plaintive than he’d meant to be out loud.

Hobi just laughs. “I heard. Well, should be interesting, at least.”

Grabbing the drinks, Seokjin pouts. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“Movie night this week?”

“Yeah, but I get to pick this time.”

Hobi grins as Seokjin turns to head back to the elevator and his office. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

***

It is very bad.

The first day is fine. Namjoon is quiet (mostly), he puts his things away and organizes his desk while Seokjin works. They make polite conversation at appropriate intervals and Namjoon leaves promptly at five in the evening. Probably a husband or wife to get home to, Seokjin decides.

On the second day, Namjoon arrives at the office first, and there’s a steaming flat white waiting on Seokjin’s desk for him. It’s a little surprising, but appreciated, and Namjoon gives a trademark shy smile when Seokjin thanks him. It’s infuriatingly cute.

Then Wednesday happens. Wednesday is table tennis day. Everyone in the office knows that. It’s when he and Jungkook head down to the basement before lunch for their “Wednesday sales meeting” and Seokjin proceeds to destroy him for an hour before buying him lunch.

So, on the third day, Seokjin heads to the elevator just before eleven in the morning. Namjoon’s been gone for a while, said he had a meeting earlier, so he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to explain himself to anyone when he heads out. But Jungkook isn’t by the elevator waiting like he usually is. Maybe he’s taking some initiative, Seokjin thinks as he steps into the lift. When he gets to the basement, he loosens his tie as the elevator door opens and stops dead in his tracks after he turns the corner. Because Jungkook has taken some initiative. He’s in the middle of what looks to be a contentious match already.

With Kim Namjoon.

“What’s going on down here?” He means to keep his cool, for it to come out as a question. But it’s more of a squawk. Mortifying.

“Oh!” Namjoon is breathing heavily and his eyes widen when he notices Seokjin. This, in turn, makes Seokjin finally notice that instead of just rolling up the sleeves of his shirt like a civilized person, Namjoon has removed his shirt, leaving him in only a white undershirt. A tight, white undershirt that moves with his arms and his chest when he moves and is unfortunately quite devastating. Seokjin is definitely staring, which he only realizes when Namjoon begins to speak again. “Seokjin-ssi! Jungkook was just showing me the ropes. He mentioned you two play and that there’s an office tournament in a few weeks.” He pauses and breaks out his stupid, dimpled smile, because of course he does. “I just love ping pong,” he says brightly.

“Yeah, hyung. Namjoon-ssi loves ping pong. Just like you!”

Seokjin turns to face Jungkook, who seems to have forgotten that he is Seokjin’s employee.

“I think it’s so nice everyone here is so close,” Namjoon says earnestly before Seokjin can remind Jungkook that they’re in the office and that he is Jungkook’s boss. “You can call me hyung, too, Jungkook-ah. If you want. I feel like we’re becoming friends already.”

This draws a snort of disbelief out of Seokjin, and a starry-eyed, nervous smile from Jungkook. “Hyung…” Jungkook whispers, seemingly to himself, trying out the word. Then he nods enthusiastically. “I’d like that, thanks, hyung!”

“It’s called table tennis,” Seokjin interrupts. “Table tennis, not ping pong. And on Wednesdays, Jungkook and I play.” The words come out in a rush as he rolls his sleeves up and moves to stand next to Namjoon. It’s not that he means to be challenging, but this is his day.

“Don’t tell me you wear pink, too.”

Seokjin just glares (even though under normal circumstances, he would probably laugh). This is his table, his basement, his office, his Jungkook.

Namjoon backs down quickly. “I didn’t mean to overstep,” he says politely, handing his paddle over.

“You didn’t!” Jungkook chimes in. “I had fun playing with you, hyung.”

“Me too, Jungkook-ah, thank you!” Namjoon starts to put his shirt back on and Seokjin hates that he feels conflicted about it.

“You can stay, if you want,” Seokjin offers in a moment of pectoral-induced weakness. “You know, to get some pointers.”

“Namjoon hyung doesn’t need pointers! He beat me twice already. But I was about to come back, I swear.” There isn’t even an attempt on Jungkook’s part to disguise his adoration.

It’s disgusting.

“I can always improve,” Namjoon chimes in as he sits on the old folding chair they’d dragged down from a supply closet. “Plus, it would be nice to get to know you both better.”

Jungkook flushes and Seokjin rolls his eyes. This guy just cannot be for real.

When they play, Namjoon calls out encouragement to both of them in between scrolling his phone. Something on there must be interesting because his thumbs are flying pretty frequently. It’s unfortunate that Seokjin notices this, because it means that he’s not paying as much attention to the game as he should be.

The unthinkable happens.

Jungkook lets out a loud whoop and Namjoon claps enthusiastically from his chair. “Good job, Jungkook-ah!”

Seokjin loses table tennis that day. As he stands on his side, motionless in disbelief, he can’t help but wonder if this is some sort of sign.

“I have to go,” he mutters under his breath, not even bothering to roll his sleeves back down or straighten his tie before he gets on the elevator.

Wednesday makes one thing clear: Kim Namjoon is going to be a problem.

Over the following weeks, things continue to get worse.

First, Namjoon buys their lunch. On the surface, this is fine. Nice, even. A gesture that most people would appreciate. Especially considering that Seokjin has… maintained a professional distance between them to say the least. They barely talk after the table tennis incident, and when they do, it’s entirely about work. Namjoon, to his credit, tries, but Seokjin isn’t really sure why. It’s obvious he was trying to prove something in that basement.

Things go downhill when, after lunch, Seokjin begins to feel itchy. Really itchy. Itchy all over like poison ivy or nettle stings. The sort of itchy that’s also warm and makes you feel like your skin is just some sort of scratchy wool sweater that your grandmother won’t let you take off because you look “cute.” He tries splashing water on his face and hands, but it just keeps getting worse. It’s almost like… it’s almost like an allergy.

“Kim Namjoon!”

Namjoon whips his head up from his computer when his name is shrieked into the office.

“Is everything okay, Seokjin-ssi? You look flushed. Are you feeling okay?”

“Garlic!”

His officemate just stares at him blankly, clearly unwilling to admit to his sabotage.

“You put garlic in my lunch!”

“Uh… I mean… I didn’t make the lunch, but there could have been garlic in there, yes?” He phrases it as a question. Still playing dumb, apparently.

“I can’t believe this,” Seokjin complains. “Look at me!” He sticks his arms out, pink from the scratching and probably also from the rash that’s taking over his entire body as he speaks. “I can’t work like this.”

“I think I’m missing something…” Namjoon says softly.

“Sure,” Seokjin says. “You didn’t know I was allergic to garlic.” He rolls his eyes. “Did Taehyung put you up to this? Jungkook? Is this some sort of joke you’re all in on? You think this is funny, Namjoon-ssi?”

Namjoon’s brow lifts. “You’re allergic to garlic?”

Seokjin scoffs as he snatches up his suit jacket, and his laptop. He types out a quick message to Yoongi on his phone letting him know he’ll need the rest of the day off to recover from the horrible prank that’s been played on him.

“First table tennis, now this,” he says on his way out. “I hope you’re happy!”

Before he shuts the door—definitely not a slam, even though he really, really wants to for the dramatic effect—he thinks he hears Namjoon mutter, “I’m mostly just confused…”

Needless to say, their progress on the pitch video for Namjoon’s boss is slow. Seokjin miraculously recovers from the garlic incident, which everyone swears was not a prank, but Taehyung and Jimin do nothing to ease his suspicion when they snicker while he interrogates them. It wasn’t even a good prank, because all it does is set them behind schedule. Well, it does, and the arguing.

For the pitch, they’re supposed to be working together on supplemental materials, but they just can’t seem to seem to see eye to eye. Namjoon wants everything spelled out—so much detail, so many… words. It’s not Seokjin’s style. He’s better with visuals—charts and interactive videos and talking his clients through them. It’s proven. It’s gotten him this far. Namjoon’s not a marketer, not a salesperson. He’s a… Well, Seokjin isn’t quite sure what Namjoon is. But Seokjin is definitely a sales guy. The best sales guy. So to have this seed-man arguing with him (politely, of course, and it’s maddening) about how to properly make a pitch video is absurd.

In the end, they agree to make two separate videos and let Yoongi choose which one to hand over to Namjoon’s Board of Directors.

Namjoon looks a little confused when Seokjin offers Jungkook’s assistance. “Are you sure?” he asks, “Jungkook-ah is your best, you don’t have to do that.”

“Well, you need someone who knows how to operate a video camera, don’t you?”

Namjoon nods dumbly, like he’s still confused, but accepts the help. Good, Seokjin thinks. He wants this to be a fair fight. It’ll be more satisfying that way when he wipes the floor with them.

One day a week or so later, Seokjin shows up to the office, and he’s optimistic. He and Taehyung have been making good progress on his work for the seed company and Namjoon’s been gone with Jungkook a lot working on his own. They haven’t had to interact much, and it’s been good for Seokjin’s focus. It’s curious, though, that Namjoon remains friendly when they do see each other. It has Seokjin on edge, like the other shoe will drop any moment.

When he walks into his office, it’s clear that the shoe has indeed dropped.

“What in the…”

Plants. Plants everywhere. This was supposed to be a good day.

Namjoon’s head pops up from behind his desk, which is covered in small pots. So are the windowsills, all the empty spaces on the bookshelves, parts of the floor, and Seokjin’s own desk.

“Good morning, Seokjin-ssi!”

“Plants,” he says. He’s having a hard time wrapping his head around what he’s seeing.

“Seed starts,” Namjoon agrees. He sounds… proud. “They’re from my personal collection, but I thought they would work for the video Jungkook and I are making.”

“Your personal collection?” Seokjin finally stops scanning the room to look at the other man. “These are yours?”

Namjoon lets out a soft laugh. “Yep. Well, they’re only part of my collection. I was worried there wouldn’t be enough… Actually, do you think I should bring more? Jimin and Taehyung said more might be better. This is only a third of what I have on my balcony… Hobi seemed to think it would be enough, though, when I asked him…”

Seokjin isn’t sure if Namjoon is speaking to him anymore, or to himself.

There are a hundred questions floating through his head about what exactly is happening in his office, but he doesn’t get a chance to ask because the door opens and Yoongi peeks his head in.

“Looks like you two are getting along,” he notes, scanning the room.

Namjoon looks to Seokjin, and it’s clear he doesn’t know how to answer, that he’s waiting for Seokjin to respond.

It’s not like he can tell his boss that their client is actively trying to sabotage him. Not in front of Namjoon, anyway. There’s no other option than to lie through his teeth. “We’re doing great,” he says, and plasters on a giant (fake) smile. He feels a little off-kilter because when he says it, Namjoon positively beams. But he has to know it’s not true—he’s the one causing all these problems, anyway.

“Good, good…” Yoongi murmurs. “Well, I’ll let you get to it. Just wanted to check in on your progress. Only about a week until we need to deliver the pitch. We’re on track, I’m assuming?”

They both nod in agreement, but neither of them makes eye contact with Yoongi. Namjoon’s staring at Seokjin and Seokjin is staring at the dozens of five centimeter paper pots covering his desk. On track is one way to put it, he thinks.

Yoongi hums his approval and backs out of the doorframe, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

“I have to go,” Seokjin says curtly.

“Oh… Is something wrong?”

Seokjin thinks if he lifts his eyebrows any higher, they’ll take flight. And he’ll get wrinkles. Which is unacceptable. “Is something wrong?” he repeats back to Namjoon.

“You sound upset.”

“Oh. Of course not. Of course I’m not upset that my whole office is being taken over by a table tennis prodigy who spreads manure pots everywhere and steals my friends and gives me garlic poisoning and thinks he can do my job better than me!” His voice rises higher and higher as he goes on and he knows his whole face is flushing down to his chest. Namjoon starts to protest, but Seokjin cuts him off. “No. I’m leaving. You can have the office—Taehyung and I can work from the conference room. Congratulations, Namjoon-ssi. You win today.”

He tries to ignore the fact that Namjoon looks thoroughly confused and, if he’s not mistaken, more than a little bit hurt.

On top of everything, he’s a good actor, Seokjin thinks.

Of course.

This point is proven when later that day, Seokjin begrudgingly realizes he needs some paperwork out of his office. He really doesn’t want to give Namjoon the satisfaction of… well, of anything, but he needs those papers, so he heads back to his office. When he opens the door, Namjoon is at his desk, surrounded by his annoying plants, talking to someone. It’s weird, because Seokjin doesn’t see a phone in his hand or earbuds in… Maybe Namjoon is talking to himself.

Then he hears another voice. Tinny, like it’s coming through… a computer speaker?

Namjoon notices Seokjin and freezes. Caught. Caught on a video call. Which he told Seokjin he “never did.” Told Seokjin he thought his “webcam must be broken.”

Kim Namjoon is a snake and a liar and Seokjin doesn’t even care anymore that he’s got pecs and dimples and really nice thighs—his slacks look stupid anyway hugging his thighs like that—it’s inappropriate. No one this shady is attractive. Not even people who look like Namjoon.

Seokjin storms out of his own office and straight to the elevator.

“Seokkkkkkjinnnnie!”

All he can muster in response is a grumble. Even for Hobi.

“I hate him.”

Hobi, infuriatingly, just laughs. “The usual?”

“Yes, please.” Seokjin paces in front of the counter while Hobi makes his drink. “He’s a liar,” he whines, “and he filled our office with plants.”

“Not plants!” Hobi gasps, showing the appropriate amount of shock at the distressing news, but then when Seokjin looks over at him, he’s laughing again.

So much for friendship.

“It’s the last straw,” he says as he takes his drink from the counter. A large hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. One of his favorites. “First there was having to share an office, then the fact that he took over my Wednesdays with Jungkook. Then the garlic, and the terrible ideas he kept pitching, and now the plants…” He pauses to lick whipped cream off of his top lip. “And he lied about the webcam, Hobi. He knows how to use the webcam!”

Hobi looks at him above the rim of his glasses. The look is more stern than the ones he usually gives. It’s the same one Seokjin gets when he’s being obnoxious about a video game or when he doesn’t let Jungkook have the last piece of chicken.

“What?” Seokjin asks flatly.

“Nothing.” Hobi raises his hands defensively and shakes his head.

“Just say it, Hobi.”

His friend pauses his work wiping down the milk steamer and tilts his head before he speaks. “I know you see things one way, but have you considered that there might be another side to all this?”

“No.” He’s sure he’s pouting now, but is it so much to ask for Hobi just to agree with him?

“He’s a nice guy, Jinnie. He thinks you hate him.”

“Maybe I do.”

“I think you should give him a chance. Maybe there’s an explanation for all of this, you know. You could just… try.”

“Hmmph.”

“We’re going out on Sunday. He’s coming. You should come, too.”

Seokjin’s eyes fly open in disbelief. “You’re hanging out with my archenemy? On a school night?”

“Don’t be dramatic. And yeah, we all are. Jungkookie, Taehyung, Jiminie, and me. We’re taking him out. It’s hard to be the new guy, Jinnie.”

Seokjin scoffs. “Yah, especially when you’re a saboteur.”

“Stop that.”

“Make me.”

“I’ll switch you to decaf.”

“This is hot chocolate, Hobi.”

“That’s what you think!”

Seokjin can’t help but smile. “Fine. I’ll give him one chance. But I don’t like it.”

Hobi smiles broadly. “Good. I knew you’d come around.”

Seokjin waves him off and crosses the lobby back to the elevator. “Just make a note for the history books that I’m being the bigger person here!”

“Sure will.” He can hear Hobi laughing at him even when the elevator door closes.

***

They make it through the rest of the work week with no “Namjoonings” as Seokjin has started calling them in his head. Namjoon rearranges the office to get almost all of the seedlings out, apologizing for causing Seokjin any inconvenience and bringing him an “I’m sorry” bonsai. When Seokjin says he barely remembers to give himself water, Namjoon just grins and promises to help care for the delicate tree himself. It’s kind of sweet.

On Wednesday, he even gets Jungkook to himself for the first time in weeks. Without Namjoon watching them play, it’s much easier to focus, and Seokjin wins table tennis that day. All three times they play.

He and Taehyung wrap up their pitch video on Friday, final edits made, adjustments inked in the contract, and he delivers everything to Yoongi for review feeling good. Of course, he’s curious about what Jungkook and Namjoon have delivered, but he feels good enough about his own pitch that he’s not letting it bother him. He’s the expert, and he taught Jungkook almost everything he knows, so he feels confident that even if Jungkook and Namjoon did a good job, Seokjin did better.

It’s the best couple of days he’s had at work in weeks.

Sunday night, he finds himself still in a good mood, crowded into a karaoke room with his best friends, a beer in hand and one Kim Namjoon sitting next to him, fidgeting with his sleeve nervously.

He’s different outside of the office, and Seokjin notices it right away. Namjoon is clearly uncomfortable with him, and it’s strange, even to Seokjin, that if Namjoon had been trying to ruin his career this whole time, that he would feel nervous around his victim. So that, combined with the apology plant and the daily drinks he’s found on his desk with cute doodles drawn on them make Seokjin think that it’s possible Hobi has a point with his whole “two sides to every story” thing.

Maybe.

Taehyung and Jimin are in the middle of a passionate duet of “I Got You, Babe,” when Seokjin decides he could, under the influence of two beers, be bothered to at least try and clear the air.

“Namjoon-ssi?”

Namjoon practically chokes on his beer. “Oh! Uh… me? Yeah?” He looks surprised that Seokjin is even speaking to him. It’s pretty cute. It’s the first time Seokjin has seen him outside of the office, and he looks like a different person. Even more attractive, which Seokjin resents. He’s got shorts on, (no one should have legs like his—it’s rude) paired with expensive sneakers and a soft-looking, oversized hoodie. His hair is apparently freshly washed, and it’s fluffy under the hood he’s had pulled up most of the night. He looks cozy. As someone who’s practically always cold, Seokjin likes it when people look cozy, when they look like they could wrap him up and keep him warm… Even his enemies. Or, alleged enemies.

“I thought… Well, Hobi thinks we should talk things out.” As cute as Namjoon is, and maybe because he looks so cute, Seokjin can’t bring himself to look the other man in the eye.

Namjoon smiles. “Hobi thinks?”

“Maybeiagreeitwouldntbesobadforustotalk.” God, he’s a mess. The words just tumble out. Why is he nervous about this?

“Yeah, I think that would be good, too.” Namjoon removes his hood and leans in closer to Seokjin—it’s loud and so it makes sense that if they’re going to talk he wants to hear a little better, but the proximity is making Seokjin a little woozy. He even smells good. It’s devastating.

He clears his throat. “Well, it’s come to my attention that I may have made some assumptions… And that it’s possible that you didn’t actually try to give me garlic poisoning on purpose.”

At that, Namjoon comes very close to spitting beer out in laughter, a hoodie-covered hand flying up to contain it.

“Yah, it’s not funny, Namjoon-ssi!”

“Sorry!” Namjoon wipes his mouth and then gives Seokjin a very serious look. “I would never, ever try to intentionally give you garlic poisoning. I had no idea you were allergic. I swear.”

“You promise?”

“I swear,” he repeats. He doesn’t look like he’s lying, but Seokjin’s been fooled by him before. Probably been fooled.

“Okay… What about Jungkook? Why are you turning him against me?”

Namjoon’s eyes go wide. Wider than wide. “I really… I don’t think I could if I wanted to.”

“What does that mean?”

“Jungkook is crazy about you! When we play ping pong, he’s always talking about ‘sunbaenim’ this and ‘Seokjin hyung’ that. It’s overwhelming sometimes.” Namjoon looks across the room to where Jungkook and Hobi are laughing with each other. “When we made our video, he kept saying things like, ‘Seokjin sunbaenim would want it like this.’ He never shuts up about you. I could never replace you, Seokjin-ssi.”

“Oh…”

“I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong idea about me or my intentions here.” Namjoon’s looking at him earnestly, tilting his own head down to try and meet Seokjin’s gaze, which has settled somewhere on the floor. “I respect you, I’ve always liked working with you, and I’d like it if someday, we could be friends, too.”

“Friends,” Seokjin mumbles, trying to think about what Namjoon’s been saying.

“You know, friends. Like where one of us doesn’t hate the other?”

And that’s it for Seokjin, because Namjoon looks hesitant and cautious and soft and cozy and not at all like the villain Seokjin’s made him up to be in his head. “That could be arranged, I think.”

Namjoon’s dimples make their first real appearance of the night. “Yeah?”

“But you need to teach Ponyo some manners.”

“Huh?”

“She’s always chewing with her mouth open.” Seokjin hollows his cheeks and does his best fish impression, which results in Namjoon doubling over in laughter, his hand flying out to Seokjin’s knee to steady himself. Because Namjoon is his client, technically, he tries really hard to ignore the immediate flush he feels at the contact.

“You’re funny, Seokjin-ssi,” he says as he catches his breath.

“Hyung. Seokjin hyung. Outside of the office, anyway.”

“Yeah?”

Seokjin nods and gives his attention to the singing, trying not to show how pleased he is that Namjoon is pleased, but when he glances back out of the corner of his eye, he can’t help but feel something funny in his stomach at the sight of the dopey grin Namjoon is giving him from behind his beer bottle.

Even he can admit that, this one time, Hobi was right.

He probably drinks too many beers that night. He’s not drunk drunk, but he’s warm and flushed and even giggling when they stumble out of the noraebang a couple hours after his newly forged friendship with Namjoon takes root. They divide into taxis, everyone calling it a night fairly early so they can show up to work in the morning without having to be on the receiving end of Yoongi’s “what the fuck were you thinking?” face.

Somehow, as he watches Jimin and Taehyung pile into a taxi, then Hobi and Jungkook, it doesn’t occur to him that he’s left with Namjoon until he feels a hand on his shoulder and hears, “Hyung, want to share?”

He thinks his brain must leave his body for a moment, because without even thinking about it, he replies, “Want to come over? One more beer?”

There’s almost immediate regret when Namjoon doesn’t answer. Seokjin can’t even bring himself to turn his head to look at the man standing next to him. He’s sure he’s crossed some sort of line—a line he’d probably been the one to draw in the first place.

He barely hears Namjoon’s answer. “Yeah, okay. One more drink.”

It’s a surprise to say the least. But a good one. Seokjin takes a couple of deep breaths and lets himself sneak a glance at Namjoon. Those damn dimples are back. But instead of being annoying, Seokjin thinks they’re beautiful. Something about how happy Namjoon looks tilts Seokjin’s world on his axis. Just momentarily, anyway. Then he remembers that they’re barely friends and he’s been objectively horrible to this man for weeks—this man who is technically his client. As they get into the taxi to go back to his apartment together, he takes more deep breaths and tells himself to get it together—this is just what friends do.

Seokjin keeps a tidy apartment, so there’s no apologizing for the mess or explaining himself. If anything, it’s sparse, because he spends so much time at work and rarely entertains at his own place, except for movie nights with Hobi.

It should be weird to have Namjoon there, but what’s weird is that it’s not at all. Namjoon slides his shoes off, settles in the living room and doesn’t waste any time asking Seokjin to talk more about himself, to tell him about the friends and family members in the photos around his apartment. He’s a good conversationalist—he asks interesting questions and laughs at Seokjin’s bad jokes and really listens when Seokjin speaks, making a lot of eye contact and nodding along at all the right places.

And he’s funny, too. Self-deprecating a little, but it makes Seokjin more comfortable around him, like he doesn’t take himself too seriously. Seokjin learns a lot about Namjoon while they both drink another beer—he has a younger sister, he loves plants in a way that wasn’t already apparent (sings to them and names them and it’s just about the most endearing thing Seokjin has ever heard in his life), he “dabbles in poetry,” likes to go to museums, and claims to only make friends with people who can cook, because he’s a self-proclaimed disaster in the kitchen. More than one of his stories of near-catastrophe has Seokjin in a riot of laughter, and it’s not long before Seokjin is wondering how he’d let himself miss out on this person for so long.

They talk until neither of them is doing a good job of keeping their eyes open, and he doesn’t think twice about offering his spare bedroom when Namjoon says he should probably get home. It’s late, they’re both tipsy, he reasons. Tells Namjoon to just set his alarm a little early to go home and change before work. They have their pitch meeting with Yoongi at 9am, so it’s not like either of them needs to be there early, anyway. “Unless you have someone waiting for you at home,” he tacks on.

Namjoon ducks his head and grins. “No, no one at home. Just the plants and me. But are you sure, hyung?”

He shouldn’t feel the small bit of giddiness he does upon hearing that Namjoon is single. “Yah, it’s nothing. Bathroom’s on the right, guest room is just past it. Sheets are clean and there’s a spare toothbrush for you. Let me find you something to wear.”

He shuffles to his own room and digs around for something that will fit Namjoon. He’s taller and bigger, but Seokjin has broad shoulders and wears baggy clothes around the house most of the time, anyway. He finds an old black t-shirt and some joggers and gives them to Namjoon, who is impossibly even cuter when he’s sleepy. Seokjin needs to get to bed before he says something he shouldn’t like, “can I touch your hair?” or “want to cuddle? Your chest looks comfy,” (It does) or “can I please kiss you?”

It’s confusing, the way he feels. His whole idea of this man has been flipped upside-down in the course of a day.

“Hyung?” Namjoon’s eyeing him curiously, one side of his mouth turned up in a soft smile.

“Sorry… Spaced out. Need anything else?” He swallows down the weird sensation he feels in his chest and smiles at Namjoon.

“No, I’m all good. See you tomorrow. Thanks again. I had a lot of fun talking with you.”

“Goodnight, Namjoon-ah.”

“Goodnight, hyung.”

Sleep. He’ll feel better once he gets some sleep, he tells himself.

***

In reality, what ends up happening is that Seokjin feels much, much worse.

It’s possible he had more to drink than he thought. He wakes up in the morning to sunlight, and this is the first bad omen. Bad because he should have been up before the sun came up if he wanted to be to work on time, and Namjoon should have been up even earlier.

Namjoon. Shit.

Seokjin rolls out of bed, his headache hitting him almost immediately.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, as he pulls a shirt on and grabs his phone. Things go from bad to worse almost immediately. It’s 8:45 am and he is late. Late, late. Completely screwed late. Late for the most important meeting he’s had at work in months. The only solace is that if he’s late, then Namjoon is late, too. He scurries down the hall to the guest room, only hesitating for a second before throwing the door open. There’s no time for modesty, he thinks, they have to get moving.

“Namjoon-ah!”

But his call is into an empty room. Namjoon is gone, and the clothes he borrowed the night before are folded up neatly on the end of Seokjin’s guest bed.

Fuck.

By the time he’s on the subway (still so, so late), he finally has time to think about the situation. And he’s mad. Really, underneath that, he thinks he might be hurt that this man who he wanted to kiss so badly the night before is really trying to screw him over. And for no reason that he can think of. He let his guard down with Namjoon for one night, and this is what happens. It was probably Namjoon’s plan all along: get Seokjin drunk, decide not to wake him up, let him show up late to the meeting so that Yoongi will have no choice but to choose Namjoon’s ideas.

He’s so stupid for letting this happen. He knew Namjoon was bad news. He should have never listened to Hobi. All the good-looking ones are evil. Except him, of course.

“Morning, Jinnie!” Hobi calls brightly as Seokjin dashes through the lobby.

“No time, Hobi. I have a seed-man to take down.”

It’s probably the fastest he’s ever made it from his bed to the office. Of course, he knows he’s made some sacrifices in order to get there sooner—he hasn’t moisturized, his tie is crooked, and he’s sure his socks don’t match—but it’s all going to be worth it when he gets there and can plead his case to Yoongi.

When he gets off the elevator on his floor, he sees Yoongi alone in his office, no Namjoon. This is good. Maybe they rescheduled the meeting. It’s only 9:20, there’s no way they’re already done. He sprints across the floor, pausing briefly at Yoongi’s door to catch his breath, and then he knocks and pushes the door open a crack.

“Yoongi-ssi?”

“Oh, you decided to show up.”

He’s about to launch into an apology-slash-explanation when Yoongi speaks again, holding his hand up to gesture for Seokjin to be quiet. “I don’t want to know. I know you all went out last night, Namjoon told me.”

Kim Namjoon, Seokjin is now one hundred percent sure, is a rat.

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin says, bowing slightly. “It won’t happen again.”

Yoongi laughs. “It probably will, just don’t make it a habit.”

“Of course.” There’s a pause where neither of them speak after that. Seokjin decides to just go for it. “So, about the meeting…”

“We had the meeting.”

“You had the meeting?”

“Namjoon and I met at nine.”

He wants to be mad, and he is with Namjoon. Not with Yoongi for having the meeting at the scheduled time.

“Oh, I see.”

“I’ve made a decision, and I’ll submit everything to the Board today for their Wednesday meeting.”

“Okay, thanks for letting me know.” He wants to cry. Seokjin closes the door to Yoongi’s office and makes his way to the bathroom as quickly as he can. There’s no way he’s going to cry out in the open where anyone could see.

Years and years of hard work down the toilet because of one night of karaoke. Because of Kim Namjoon being a rat who didn’t wake him up. He can feel the pressure building in his head, worse than the hangover headache he woke up with. There’s nothing he can think of worse than failure, and now he’s failed in the biggest way. His dongsaeng and his client beating him at the one thing he’s always been the best at. It’s the worst feeling. Like he’s let Yoongi down… Like he’s let himself down.

He leans against the counter and fights the tears back. He’s Kim Seokjin. He doesn’t cry at work. The door to the bathroom swings open while he’s splashing cold water on his face. He didn’t bother with concealer that morning, so there’s nothing to mess up with the water.

“Seokjin-ssi?”

Of fucking course.

“Namjoon, I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh. I uh… Just wanted to see if you were alright. I was worried when you didn’t come to the meeting this morning.”

Seokjin laughs, loud and bitter. “Sure you were.”

Namjoon stands in the doorway, a surprised look on his face. “I was, yeah.”

“You don’t have to lie anymore, Namjoon. You win. Yoongi told me everything was decided. Congratulations. I don’t know why it was so important to you to do this to me, but I hope you’re happy.”

Namjoon’s voice is soft when he speaks, and he takes a cautious step closer to Seokjin. “You have to believe me when I tell you I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t have to believe anything you say, actually.”

“I’m not sure why you’re upset with me, hyung.”

Seokjin stands up straight. “Hyung rights revoked, Namjoon.”

Namjoon looks like he wants to laugh. Insulting. Seokjin pushes past him out the bathroom door. “Seokjin-ssi, wait, please.”

Seokjin does not wait. He strides to Yoongi’s office (Namjoon two steps behind), tells him he needs a personal day, and gets on the elevator to go back down. He’s done with Namjoon, done with this office, and done with being a fool.

He makes it home without any fanfare and sleeps most of the day. When he wakes up to make himself some food that evening, he sees chat messages from Hobi and Taehyung, asking if he’s okay. They offer to bring soup in case he’s not feeling well and both ask for him to let them know if he’s alright. He ignores them. Instead, he leaves Yoongi a voicemail, telling him he’s taking the next day off as well, stomach bug.

It’s not far off from the truth—he feels awful. Prickly and queasy and bad all over. Every time he closes his eyes he sees Namjoon standing in his living room, looking soft and innocent and kissable and happy and he hates it. It’s the feeling of insecurity he’s tried to battle his whole life, now creeping back in. He shouldn’t have let himself think a pretty boy with nice dimples and a couple of good jokes really wanted to be his friend—maybe even wanted something more.

There were a couple moments, like when Namjoon shuffled closer in the karaoke room, or when he laughed at every single one of Seokjin’s worst jokes, that Seokjin thought there might be a spark there. That maybe Namjoon’s chest felt like it was full of firecrackers when they made eye contact, too.

He feels like a fool.

He ignores his friends that night and all the next day, plays video games until his thumbs hurt, and calls his mother. By the time Tuesday night comes, he’s feeling a little better, a little more capable of putting his protective shell back on and showing up at the office. Plus, the next day is the annual table tennis tournament, and Seokjin never misses that. It was his idea to begin with, and he wins every year.

Kim Namjoon may have won the pitch competition, but he’ll never beat Seokjin on the blue table.

That night, he tells himself reaffirming statements in bed: he’s smart, he’s talented, he’s attractive, he’s Kim Seokjin and he can do anything. He only believes approximately half of it, but figures the more he repeats it, the closer it gets to true.

He sets no fewer than eight alarms for Wednesday morning. In the interest of showing everyone that he is, in fact, not to be fucked with, he wakes up extra early and makes sure his hair and face are both perfect. He puts on his nicest suit and packs his lucky table tennis clothes—a navy blue and white Fila outfit that he’s never lost tennis, squash, or table tennis in. He makes himself an Ediya latte and adds a little extra sugar. He deserves it.

Because it’s a big day, he packs a lunch instead of relying on cafeteria food or a pastry from Hobi’s shop. He needs the nutrition. He hasn’t seen the tournament bracket yet, but he’s sure he’ll be playing Jungkook, who will keep him on his toes.

At the office, everyone regards him carefully. He expects to have to ignore Namjoon in their shared office, but when he enters, Namjoon is nowhere to be found. Ponyo mouths at him from Namjoon’s desk—she’s always watching. When he asks Taehyung about it, casually of course, Tae just points to one of the conference rooms. There’s a “do not disturb — call in progress” sign tacked to the door.

So the first half of the day is quiet. He doesn’t see Namjoon, but he does notice his name listed in the tournament bracket that’s been posted in the lunchroom. He’s on the opposite side from Seokjin, which means they wouldn’t play until the final, and Seokjin’s pretty confident Namjoon won’t make it that far, anyway.

Part of him wonders if he’s going to hear back from Yoongi about the deal with Namjoon’s company today. Their board meeting is happening, and they should be making a decision about whether to give Yoongi and Seokjin their business. It would obviously be a huge relief, even if Jungkook is now entitled to a large chunk of the commission. Money doesn’t really matter, because being done with the deal means Namjoon will go back to his own office, and Seokjin will be rid of him. It should be a weight off of his shoulders, and he shrugs off the small voice in his head that doesn’t want to go back to not seeing Namjoon every day.

Well, he thinks sarcastically, maybe he will see Namjoon now that he’s miraculously discovered how to use a webcam. Asshole.

After he eats lunch, he changes into his workout clothes and heads down to the basement. It’s finally his time to shine.

The elevator is crowded, and he has to ignore the looks he gets from workers who get on at other floors. No one looks better than him in a track jacket, anyway, they’re probably just jealous.

Or, that’s what he thinks until he makes it to the basement and sees Namjoon. Dressed in a familiar outfit. Familiar because it looks exactly like Seokjin’s.

The universe is a cruel place.

Once again, his stomach is a muddled mess of horny rage. No one should look that good with a sweatband on. No one that terrible should look that good, period.

He falls into conversation with Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook, who collectively look like they should be on the cover of some high-fashion sports magazine. He’s not sure he’s ever seen so much lycra in one place. Jimin gives him a wry smile when he notices that Seokjin is looking. “Like what you see?” he teases.

“Just surprised you think you can play in that,” he retorts.

“Oh, we can play,” Taehuyng chimes in with a greasy wink. It’s made worse by the fact that he can’t see where Taehyung’s hands are. No doubt attached to Jimin’s body somewhere. They’re disgusting.

“You don’t have to be that gross,” Seokjin whines.

Jungkook shakes his head. “I really think they do.”

Hobi, their official tournament referee, blows an obnoxious whistle, getting everyone’s attention. Well, almost everyone. Out of the corner of his eye, Seokjin sees Namjoon staring at him. He can’t tell what kind of look is on the other man’s face. Probably smug. Which is fine, for now. Seokjin will have fun wiping any smugness right off his pretty face later.

The first match is easy, some guy in IT who looks like he’s never stepped out from behind his computer in his life. Then he beats Jimin in the second round and observes that Namjoon seems to make it easily through his first two rounds, as well.

In the quarterfinals, Seokjin has to fight a little harder to beat Taehyung, usually an easy win made more challenging when he notices Namjoon watching from the other side of the room. If he’s not wrong, it even looks like Namjoon is cheering for him?

Probably another one of his tricks.

Seokjin has to face Jungkook in the semifinals, and on the other side, it’s Namjoon and Yoongi. Yoongi is objectively bad at this, but he’s competitive, and he’s also the boss of most of the people currently in the basement, so no one ever wants to play him. Seems like Namjoon is this year’s sacrificial lamb, on the receiving end of Yoongi’s shouts and cheating accusations when he loses point after point. Good.

Jungkook has learned a lot since he started at the office. He’s gotten better at sales and a hell of a lot better at table tennis. He’s beat Seokjin before, and they both know he can do it again. But sometime in the second match of three, it’s almost like he gives up.

“Yah, put up a fight, will you?”

“I have a cramp, hyung.” Jungkook bends down to rub at his calf dramatically, and if Seokjin is suspicious, he pushes it out of his mind and takes the “cramp” as a gift. He easily beats Jungkook to take the best two of three and make it to the final.

The final against Namjoon.

He takes some time to adjust his wristbands and drink some water before the match starts. Namjoon seems to be keeping his distance, but every time Seokjin looks over at him, he’s looking right back. He looks sad, almost. Finally, with a minute or so left until their match time, Namjoon approaches him.

“Seokjin-ssi… hi.”

Seokjin looks him up and down with his best competitive glare. He absolutely does not let his gaze pause on the muscles in Namjoon’s thighs. “Well, maybe we can settle some things today, Namjoon-ssi.”

Namjoon furrows his brow. “I still don’t think I understand why you’re mad at me.” Then he whispers, “I thought we were becoming friends.”

“Does it really matter?” Seokjin adjusts his own sweatband and rolls his shoulders back. He steps past Namjoon and toward the table before Namjoon can reply. Faintly, Seokjin hears him say something. It sounds an awful lot like, “It matters to me.”

But he won’t let his guard down this time.

Except he does.

The first game goes fine; he cruises to an 11 to 6 victory easily. Something happens in the second game, though. Jungkook is talking to Namjoon between points, and it starts out fine, and then he asks if Namjoon really has to leave the office to go back to his actual job, to which Namjoon replies, “I’ll never leaf you, Jungkook-ah.”

It’s stupid. And it’s hilarious. Plant puns from the seed-man.

Seokjin misses his shot as he tries not to laugh. Namjoon notices that he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, and this causes a triumphant, deeply-dimpled smile to appear on his face.

“You like plant puns, Seokjin-ssi?” he asks as he serves the ball.

“No,” Seokjin lies.

“What did the cactus say to the other cactus?”

“No idea,” he grunts out as he returns a surprisingly good shot from Namjoon.

“You’re looking sharp.” Namjoon delivers the punchline with a killer backhand, and Seokjin misses the ball again.

“I hate you and your stupid jokes,” Seokjin announces. Even if he doesn’t hate them at all. In fact, he’s struggling to hate Namjoon, too. It’s actually the worst.

“But I’m just pollen your leg,” Namjoon riffs.

Seokjin misses another shot as Taehyung and Jimin fall into a pile of laughter on the floor next to the table. Even Yoongi is giving a snort.

“You’re all the worst!” Seokjin shouts as he sets his paddle down. He’s lost the game to Namjoon. 9 to 11. So embarrassing. “Hobi, can we institute a ‘no puns at the table’ rule for the final game?”

“No,” Hobi says, his tone light. “This is way too entertaining.”

“Fine.”

He’s so annoyed, he’s practically shaking. Kim Namjoon with his dumb jokes winning everyone over while Seokjin just suffers. It’s unfair, it’s enraging, it’s… well, it’s actually really cute, too, which just makes him more angry. Why does his nemesis have to be funny and attractive?

What’s apparent, as the third game begins, is that being mad is not helping his game. Neither is having to look at Namjoon’s face across the table. He could swear Namjoon’s mocking him every time he smiles.

How dare he.

Thinking about it just gets Seokjin more worked up, and he misses more shots. Then thinking about missing shots causes him to miss even more shots. He’s barely hanging on until he’s not actually hanging on at all, and shouts from Jungkook announce Namjoon’s victory.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Kim Seokjin is officially a loser.

It doesn’t sink in right away. Not until Namjoon says, with convincing sincerity, “Wow! I can’t believe I won the ping pong tournament…”

“You did it, hyung!” Jungkook is clearly excited. Traitor. “You won ping pong!”

And something in Seokjin snaps.

“It’s called table tennis, you assholes!”

He shouts it, and everyone in the room freezes.

He would be embarrassed if he thought about it, but instead, all he can think about are all the things that have gone wrong for him over the past few weeks, all tied back to Kim Namjoon.

Before anyone can move, he stomps to the elevator and slams his fingers into the buttons repeatedly until the car finally makes it to the basement and the doors slide open. It’s overwhelmingly silent in the room as he leaves—and if Taehyung and Jimin are quiet, he knows he’s probably crossed a line. He just doesn’t care. When he steps onto the elevator, he keeps his back to everyone until the door closes. When he’s finally alone, he slumps against the wall and sighs.

He’s probably going to need to find a new job.

Back in his office, he’s packing some things into his bag, hoping to avoid the rest of them. He figures if he can sneak out in the next few minutes, maybe take the stairs down, he’ll miss them all making their way back up to the office.

Of course, he figures wrong.

The door to his office opens carefully, and he can see a flop of brown hair appear in the crack.

Against his better judgment, he says, “You can come in, Namjoon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” No is what he means, though. But he’s tired. It’s exhausting to fight all the time. He doesn’t have it in him anymore, he’s pretty sure.

Namjoon slips into the office and pulls the door closed, leaning back against it. “Can we talk?” he asks.

“Talk if you want.” Seokjin crosses his arms and waits.

“The board approved the deal today,” Namjoon says. He looks happy. His eyes are bright and hopeful. “I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

To rub it in, no doubt. Namjoon is such a jerk.

“Congratulations to you and Jungkook, then.” It comes out pretty harsh, but he figures it won’t really matter anyway.

“Huh?”

“Your pitch, it worked. Congrats.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I think you’ve got some things wrong, Seokjin-ssi.”

At that, Seokjin huffs. “I’ve got some things wrong? Me?” He steps closer to Namjoon. “I think you’ve got some things wrong thinking you can some in here and lie about not knowing how to use a webcam,” he sticks a crooked finger out and points at Namjoon’s chest, “and fill my office with plants to drive me out and almost kill me with garlic and purposely make me late to that pitch meeting and think you can get away with it because you’re funny and smart and hot!”

Seokjin is practically in his face now, but instead of backing down, Namjoon grabs his finger. “You think I’m funny and smart and hot?”

“Not the point!”

“You want to know why I lied about video calls?”

“No.”

“Because I looked you up on Naver and saw your picture when we first started emailing. Because I couldn’t even talk to you on the phone without blushing. Because you are the most attractive person I’ve ever seen and I was nervous, hyung. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it together if I had to look at you while we talked.” Namjoon gives Seokjin’s finger a squeeze. “I know it’s not appropriate, and I’m your client… So I never said anything.”

Seokjin squeaks. Honest to god squeaks. It’s such a far departure from what he expected Namjoon to say, he doesn’t even have a good response.

“And as for the garlic, I think we’ve already covered that. And the meeting? Hyung, I tried to wake you up when I left, but you yelled at me to stop being ungrateful and then you rolled over and started snoring.”

“I don’t snore,” Seokjin says weakly.

“Okay, sure.” Namjoon gives him an affectionate smile. “I thought you must have had your alarm set. I didn’t know that you didn’t.”

“Oh…”

“And the pitch we sent the board was yours.”

Seokjin finally snaps to attention at that. “What?”

“It was the best one. I watched them with Yoongi and told him to send yours. So you got the deal done, hyung. It was all you.”

“You really did that?”

Namjoon nods. This is all… a lot to process.

Maybe Seokjin was… not exactly right about Namjoon’s intentions.

“And you think I’m the most attractive person you’ve ever seen?”

The almost giggle Namjoon lets out is the cutest thing Seokjin has ever seen, so maybe they’re even. “Yeah, I do.”

“You’re the worst,” Seokjin says, but this time, he’s smiling, too.

“Mmhmm. I’m the worst, but I’m technically officially your client, so you have to be nice to me.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yep.”

And it occurs to Seokjin that instead of wiping the smug grin off Namjoon’s face, he wants to kiss it off. So with very little consideration to what that might mean for his career, he leans in to do just that.

Except Namjoon beats him to it.

And thank god, he is way better at kissing than he is at sales pitches. He’s careful with Seokjin, lips moving cautiously. It’s sweet and soft and Seokjin hears himself sigh into the kiss as it deepens, as Namjoon drops Seokjin’s finger, and moves to hold his jaw instead. He takes the lead, tilting Seokjin’s head just so to deepen the kiss, and then smiling when he pulls away to catch his breath and sees Seokjin chasing his lips.

“Was that nice enough?” Seokjin teases when he finally gets a hold of the thoughts spinning around his head.

“Mmhmm… Very nice. Wanted to kiss you since the first time we met…” Namjoon barely finishes his dreamy, murmured response before he’s pulling Seokjin back in, connecting their lips again. It’s possible that Seokjin has wanted this more than he’d been admitting to himself, because he’s almost sure he’s too eager, licking along Namjoon’s plush and perfect bottom lip in hopes he’ll find space to change the kiss from sweet to heated. It’s probably only been seconds, but he’s already impatient, wanting more, more, more.

They kiss and kiss and kiss with Namjoon pressed up against the office door… The office door. Seokjin pulls away abruptly. “We shouldn’t do this.”

Namjoon looks like almost every possible emotion passes over his breathless face as he registers what Seokjin’s just said. He lands on something like disappointment. “Oh… I must have…”

“No, no! You didn’t. But…” Seokjin leans over to his side to peer out of the glass, “We shouldn’t do this here. Everyone will be back any minute.”

A strong arm wraps around his waist, and he’s tugged into Namjoon’s chest before he knows what’s happening. (And he was right, for what it’s worth. It’s very comfy, even though it’s shaking with Namjoon’s gentle laughter).

“What’s funny? I’m going to get fired,” Seokjin whispers into Namjoon’s shirt.

“I think if you were going to get fired, it would have been when you called everyone in the office ‘assholes’,” Namjoon says gently.

“Hmm… Points are being made.”

“Plus, Yoongi sent everyone home.”

Seokjin looks up. “He did?”

“Yeah… He thought it might be best after… You know.”

“Me.”

“More or less,” Namjoon agrees.

Seokjin groans into Namjoon’s collarbones. “That was embarrassing,” he whines.

Namjoon hooks a finger under his chin and tilts his head up. He’s giving Seokjin a completely enamored smile, and Seokjin’s almost sure he’s been on the receiving end of that look before, but he’s just now recognizing it for what it is. “I thought it was cute,” Namjoon whispers.

“Cute? Hah! You’re a liar, Kim Namjoon.”

“I’m not,” Namjoon says, still grinning when he leans down to place another delicate kiss on Seokjin’s lips.

“I don’t deserve this…”

“No, you really don’t,” Namjoon readily agrees. “You’re lucky I like you a little mean.”

“Oh?” Seokjin feels his ears turn red at the insinuation.

Namjoon kisses him again and then nods. “I just really like you, hyung. You’re passionate, funny, and really good at table tennis.” He’s smiling now, teasing a little, but it feels really nice to hear someone say those things, especially someone who seems like he really means them.

“Of course you do,” Seokjin teases. It’s one of his nervous tics, joking to take the pressure off, to turn the attention to something else. But when he does it this time, he realizes he doesn’t want to brush this off or make a joke out of it. “I really like you too, Namjoon-ah.”

“Good.” And Namjoon’s breath is warm against the shell of his ear when the word is whispered into his skin. It makes Seokjin’s whole body tingle. It’s not helping that Namjoon’s hands are wandering, fingertips pressing into his waist, sliding along the bottom of his shirt. “Is this okay?” he asks.

Seokjin nods, and he’s immediately manhandled so that he’s the one backed up into the door, Namjoon looking him up and down, then leaning in to press open-mouthed kisses up over his jaw and down his neck.

“So pretty, hyung,” he whispers between kisses. “Want to see more of you.” Namjoon slips his hands beneath his jacket, playing at the sensitive skin above his waistband.

“Here?” Seokjin is a little breathless, a little surprised. The Kim Seokjin who likes to be the best (and who works very hard every day to make sure that’s always the case) would never do this in the office, never take the risk… “Yeah, okay,” he agrees.

Maybe it’s time to be a new version of himself.

He’s quickly shed of his jacket and shirt by Namjoon, who whispers praises into the skin of his collarbones and chest. He’s getting hard with little assistance, and normally it would be somewhat embarrassing, but worse things have happened in the last hour—he might as well lean into it. So, when Namjoon asks if it’s okay to touch, he nods immediately and is rewarded with a single, teasing finger dragged over his shorts along his length and sending a shudder down his spine.

His head falls forward onto Namjoon’s shoulder as the other man softly bites and kisses across his skin. At this point, he’s prickly with anticipation and getting painfully hard, but when he looks up, all he sees is…

“Ponyo,” he says quietly.

Namjoon lifts his head from Seokjin’s pulse point, where his lips have started to become a semi-permanent fixture. His eyes are dark, cheeks flushed, and his lips are kiss-swollen when he answers, “You want to talk about my fish right now?”

Seokjin points to where she sits on the desk. “She’s watching…”

“She’s a fish.”

He can’t tell if Namjoon is endeared or exasperated.

“Both,” Namjoon says.

“I said that out loud?”

“You say a lot of things, hyung.”

That earns him a slap on the shoulder. “Can we turn her around?” Seokjin asks.

Namjoon lets out a deep laugh and smiles fondly. “You know she could just swim in any direction, right? It wouldn’t matter.”

“I would feel better.”

Namjoon lifts an eyebrow and mumbles, “Can’t believe I still want to suck you off after all this.” At least he’s still smiling.

“Fair,” Seokjin replies as Namjoon goes to move the fishtank. “Me either if we’re being honest.”

With Ponyo’s innocence maintained, Namjoon comes back to a shirtless Seokjin and resumes landing soft kisses across Seokjin’s jaw. It’s so nice, and Seokjin really can’t believe that this is happening—he meant it when he said he didn’t deserve this, but he’s so glad it’s finally real. The moan he lets out when Namjoon drops to his knees probably says enough, but he wants to make sure it’s really clear. “This is like a dream,” he says.

Namjoon looks up at him from where he’s untying the knot holding up Seokjin’s shorts. “Hmm… You have interesting dreams.”

“They’re usually not this good,” Seokjin says, his eyes falling closed as Namjoon slides his shorts and briefs down.

“Hyung?”

“Yeah?” he whispers.

“Stop talking.” Namjoon emphasizes his words by finally taking Seokjin’s cock in his hand, squeezing a little too carefully before licking along the shaft.

“Okay, I’m stopping,” he agrees, voice pitched higher as Namjoon wraps his lips around his cock. He can feel when Namjoon chokes back a laugh. “For real now,” he adds on in a whisper.

And he keeps his promise. It would be hard to formulate words even if he wanted to with the way Namjoon is working him over with his tongue and lips. His cheeks are hollowed as he takes Seokjin deeper, eyes watering, and he looks devastatingly good like this. If he didn’t want to see how far this could go, he’d be worried that the next thing Namjoon chokes on won’t be laughter.

When Namjoon reaches to squeeze his balls, Seokjin groans and his head thuds against the door behind him. It’s so overwhelming. Moreso when he brings himself to open his eyes and looks down to see Namjoon’s lips spread wide around his cock and one of his hands down his shorts stroking himself.

“You like this, Namjoon-ah? Like it so much you’re touching yourself for hyung?”

Namjoon just moans around him in response before he pushes further down Seokjin’s cock and swallows around the head.

“I’m close…” Seokjin whispers, and there’s no hesitance—he’s met with more encouraging hums as Namjoon moves faster.

He tries to reach down to pull Namjoon off of him before he comes, sure that it’s too much for a first time, but Namjoon just squeezes his thigh and then holds Seokjin in place, not letting him pull back.

When he comes, he thinks his legs might give out, it’s the best orgasm he’s had in ages—the only one he’s had with someone else in longer than he’d like to admit—but Namjoon keeps a steadying hand on his leg and holds him tight while he swallows and slowly pulls off, licking Seokjin clean.

“Okay, hyung?” he says, voice a little gravelly. It’s incredibly sexy, makes Seokjin wonder what he sounds like in the morning, wonder what he’d sound like when someone was taking him apart instead of the other way around.

“So good, Namjoon-ah.”

Namjoon stands and lets Seokjin pull him in for another long kiss. He tastes like Seokjin and it’s one more thing added to the list of surprisingly hot experiences that have happened to him today. They hold each other for what feels like an hour, but really can’t be more than a few seconds before Namjoon pulls away and looks down between them. “I should.. Uh…”

“Can I help?” Seokjin asks.

“Oh, uh… No, thank you. This is… Well, it’s my turn to be embarrassed, I guess.”

When Seokjin looks down, he sees a dark patch on the front of Namjoon’s shorts. “Oh, you really did like that?”

Namjoon’s cheeks turn even more pink. “Stop, hyung… I swear this isn’t a thing that happens to me usually.”

It’s Seokjin’s turn to be reassuring. “It’s fine, Namjoon-ah, I think it’s kinda hot.”

“Now who’s the liar?” They both laugh into each other's shoulders until Seokjin shivers. “Cold?” Namjoon asks.

Seokjin nods, and Namjoon grabs his clothes for him from their pile on the office floor. Since Namjoon needs to get out of his dirty shorts, he puts his suit back on while Seokjin gets dressed. They look like quite the pair with Seokjin in a tracksuit and Namjoon in an actual suit—it’s even more of a relief that Yoongi sent everyone home, now.

The longer they’re quiet, the more he worries that things between them are going to be awkward. They probably should be given what just happened.

“So, uh…” Namjoon looks as nervous as Seokjin feels. “We did that.”

“We did. Yep. And you’re still my client, so…” He really hopes Namjoon isn’t about to tell him that this was a mistake, something they should pretend never happened.

“So, I think you should give my account to Jungkook. If you want.”

“Okay… That can be arranged.” It’s hard to control the grin that’s blooming on his face. “What do you want, Namjoon-ah?”

Namjoon smiles and grabs both of their bags, handing Seokjin’s to him. “I want to take you out to dinner.”

***

They do go out to dinner, and after, Namjoon comes over. Seokjin gets to confirm that the sounds Namjoon makes when he’s at someone else’s mercy are just about as perfect as any he’s ever heard. In the morning, Namjoon wakes him up carefully with warm kisses even though now that the project is done, he can go back to working from home or his actual office, and Seokjin is the one who actually has to get out of bed.

After a shower and breakfast, Namjoon rides the subway with him to his office, holding his hand the whole way. They barely let go when they enter the building, just in time for Hobi not to catch them. He thinks, anyway.

“Ah, Jinnie! And Namjoon! Good morning.”

“Hi, Hobi,” they say in unison.

“The usual?” he asks.

They nod in unison, and then Namjoon whispers, “Hyung, I’ve never told him my “usual,” but I can’t tell him no. He just makes me something different every time.”

“Oh, same for me,” Seokjin agrees. “That’s what he does to everyone.”

“How does he stay in business?” Namjoon asks, wide-eyed.

“Never underestimate the power of a smile,” Hobi chimes in as he sets their drinks on the counter.

“Or the fact that he’s the closest coffee shop for the hundreds of people in the building,” Seokjin counters.

When they get to the elevator bank, Seokjin knows it’s time to say goodbye, at least for the day. They’ve already made plans to meet after work to play table tennis together—Namjoon says that couples who have hobbies together are happier. Seokjin’s just happy that Namjoon wants to be in a couple after everything that happened, so he promises to be on his best behavior during any competitive scenarios. He’ll try, at least.

While they wait for the next elevator, clearly dragging out their temporary good-bye for as long as possible, Seokjin says, “I had an idea.”

Namjoon lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Maybe next year’s tournament could be doubles.”

Even though Namjoon won’t be working from their office, won’t have the opportunity to beat him next year, nothing really sounds better to Seokjin than to win with Namjoon by his side, as dumb as it sounds when he’s tried to say it out loud. Fortunately, Namjoon doesn’t make him.

“Sure, that’s a good idea, hyung. Who’s gonna be your partner?”

“Well, even though you won’t really be around the office much, I was thinking you would.”

Namjoon just gives him that same bright, dimpled grin as he did the first time they met. “Of course I will. We’ll be unbeatable.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin says, returning his smile. “I think we will.”

#seokjin fic #namjoon fic #catch of the century #btswritingcafe #seokjin fanfiction #seokjin smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x seokjin #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts imagines

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soup-of-the-daisies · 8 days

Note

You talked about rambles so uhm.. have this essay i guess?? sklfjd this got wayy longer than i thought it would:

Sirius and Regulus and especially the was Sirius talks about Regulus is SOOOO interesting to me? probably because i'm also an eldest child

"my idiot brother who was soft enough to believe [our parents]" is just so.. bitter? resentful? hurt? to me? I firmly believe Sirius used to believe W&O too, but then got to Hogwarts and was in for a Rude Awakening and slowly changed. It can't have been easy, even if he had prior doubts, to learn to disregard and actively denounce everything his parents ever told him.

They were harsh and strict and expected so much from him. Put him in all these little boxes and made him jump through hoops because he had to be the perfect little heir to the Black name (basically royalty) but they were his parents and parents love their children. They care. He was eleven when he started to not only doubt his parents ideals, but also their love for him because with every "no" and "that's not true" and "muggleborn, not mudblood" they (especially Walburga) get harsher and harsher.

Maybe he even went to Regulus with it in his letters in the year Regulus wasn't at Hogwarts yet? "Potter said [something going directly against what their parents told them] and was completely serious about it! Can you believe it?" "Do you think father was right when he said ... because Potter said ..." "James told me mother was wrong about ..." And he tried to explain his own wavering belief in their parents and Regulus, who was still firmly under their thumb, refused to listen.

Maybe Regulus talked to their parents about these letters and he got an furious letter from Walburga. Or he got the cold shoulder when he got home from his first year not knowing why until they brought it up icily during dinner?

I believe that Sirius saw Regulus believing their parents over him as a personal betrayal. "soft enough to believe them" aka he loved/respected/trusted them more than he did me or he would have listened to me

honestly i don't know if any of this made sense but it's certainly rambling

Yes. Yes, this is good. VERY good.

In my perspective, Sirius calling Regulus ‘soft’ and an ‘idiot’ is, apart from hurt for a little brother who ‘betrayed’ him/his trust, also something that he’s parroting. Like that his parents used to say it, you know? Sirius is intelligent, headstrong, magically powerful, and a leader at his core: ideal for the future head of the family. I’d say his rebellious tendencies and sharp retorts were initially encouraged (amusing, cute, and impressive; he was an outgoing and sharp child, and people who don’t like children like that), until it backfired on them.

Regulus, while being clever himself, I’ve always seen as significantly less outgoing. He’s not mentioned until OotP, though he could’ve been mentioned (at least in passing) during both PoA and GoF. I don’t see him as having been very… outstanding, I suppose. Probably quiet at home too, and agreeable. Not something you’d want in an heir, ideally. Calling him a soft idiot could easily be a way for O&W to force him out of his shell, be more Sirius-esque without the need for rebellion.

But then he joins the Death Eaters, and his parents (though perhaps unhappy that he’s such a follower) are at least proud that he agrees with their ideas, and Sirius just thinks—they were right. Apart from the cold shoulder or the tattling after Sirius started Hogwarts, he’s radicalised now as well, listened to their parents’ ridiculous bigotry and agreed with it to the point of becoming a follower of Voldemort. Voldemort, who obviously doesn’t care about people’s lives, least of all about the ideas he’s spouting (how many purebloods got killed by DE’s, in comparison to muggles and muggleborn? How is that superiority?). It’s a confirmation: Regulus is soft and can’t think for himself, Regulus is an idiot who decided to side with a extremist maniac instead of genuinely considering the facts.

I do think Sirius cared for his parents, a little bit. He flees to his mother’s room when he’s upset, and he doesn’t take the opportunity to slander his father for his paranoia in protecting Grimmauld with spells. I think he cared for Regulus more though: soft, idiotic Regulus, who was too quiet to think to disagree, too stupid to think further than the ideas he surrounded himself with, too scared to consider his brother’s rebuttals to the bigotry.

It’s hurt, yes. Because it could’ve been better. Because Regulus could have lived.

#sirius black #regulus black #black brothers #mwpp #ask #anon #the hp rambles

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satansapostle6 · 5 months

Text

folie à deux

Sometimes poison is sweet.

Selina Romanov and Draco Malfoy met when they were only eleven years old. The two of them have always shared an intense bond, always having gravitated towards one another. But the question still remains, as the years pass by, is their connection one of passion, or delusion?

Warnings: Contains Mature Themes/Language, Themes Such As Sexual Content, Violence, Abuse, Sexual Assault, Eating Disorders

One.

Two Years Ago

Eleven year-old Selina Romanov sat alone in a train compartment headed for her new school. The Romanov family was held in very high regard in the wizarding world, and yet, she felt she had no friends in that world, or any world she belonged to, for that matter. She sat alone in a train compartment full of sweets she'd bought, hoping at least one other person might join. Selina's grandmother had given her plenty of money in her journey to Hogwarts School in Scotland, one of the only good things she'd ever gotten from her. Many other children passed by over the long train ride aboard the Hogwarts Express, but none had come to sit down in her compartment as the hours passed. After little over two hours had gone by, a boy had been walking outside of her compartment and almost passed it, before walking backward, opening the door.

"Oi. Is that cherry?" he inquired, pointing at the box of candies she was eating from.

"Yeah, it is," she nodded quietly.

"Give me some, then," the blond-haired boy demanded, extending his hand.

"That's a funny way of asking," Selina remarked, tipping the box over and dropping a few candies into his hand.

He frowned at her resentfully, taking the candies and popping a couple of them into his mouth. He begrudgingly took a seat across from her, looking around at the other treats that she had gotten from the trolley, as well as from Diagon Alley a few days prior.

"You know, Chocolate Frogs are alright, I suppose, but these will always be my favorite," he said confidently, still chewing.

"Yeah. Cherry's one of my favorite flavors. They didn't have strawberry, though," Selina thought.

"Eh, strawberry's alright," the boy with pale blond hair and blue eyes conceded, "But cherry is simply superior."

They sat in silence as Selina wished she could go back to being alone, looking out the window almost melancholically, drowning everything out in her head with music. Selina Romanov always wished she had friends until she remembered what it was actually like to have friends.

"Say, what's your name?" the young boy, most likely another Hogwarts first year, asked, somehow still sounding rude. "I know you, from some of my parents' parties, and stuff. I don't think I've seen you at one in years, though."

"Selina."

"Selina what?" he demanded impatiently.

"Selina Romanov," she responded dryly.

He nodded quickly. "A Romanov. Now that's a respectable enough family," he determined with an obvious haughtiness.

She just smiled, knowing that upon her mother's death and her father's life sentence to Azkaban prison, she had inherited an entire vault of riches, jewels, and other heirlooms that reached two full floors of twenty feet each.

"My name's Draco Malfoy," he remarked, holding for applause, no doubt. "I knew you looked familiar. Your parents knew my parents. I remember seeing you at the parties, and such from before."

"Nice to meet you, I suppose, Draco," she remarked, underwhelming him with her amount of enthusiasm.

"So. What House do you think you'll be sorted into?" he questioned curiously. "I'm going to be a Slytherin. No one on either side of my family's ever been anything else."

"I can't say for sure. Not all of my family's studied at Hogwarts. Most of the men on my father's side went to Durmstrang," Selina explained. "But the ones that didn't went here. They were all Slytherins, I think."

"Oh, I almost went there," Draco nodded nonchalantly. "But, my mum said no. She and my father both went to Hogwarts."

"My parents went to Hogwarts, too. Both of them were Slytherins, and a lot of my mum's family were Slytherins. She did have a few Ravenclaws on her side, though. I'll most likely be one of those two," she thought. "I'm guessing Slytherin, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too surprising."

"Those are the only two houses worth a damn," Draco Malfoy scoffed wryly.

Selina just rolled her eyes as she looked out the window, unimpressed by Draco's keen memorization of his parents' hot takes.

"I hope we're in Slytherin together," he carried on. "I just came from a car with a few of the others who are going to be in Slytherin. They're easily impressed. Not very bright, either."

Selina did her best to ignore the irony.

"I hope we're in Slytherin together, too," she remarked.

Strangely enough, she felt that she hadn't been telling a complete lie when she had said so.

"Do you think you'll make it into Slytherin?" Draco asked, not paying much mind to tact.

"I definitely can. My uncle says that I ought to be in Slytherin, based on my personality and such," she replied.

"Do you live with him?" he asked, still indulging himself through her candy. "I mean, your father's in prison for murdering your mum, so I expect you can't be living with either of them. Especially since your mum isn't even living."

This comment made her chuckle, despite its socially and generally inappropriate tone.

"I live with my grandmother," she answered humorously, "But she's not very pleasant, so I don't really count her opinion on this subject, or any other, for that matter."

"Well, that's just hilarious," Draco scoffed, "All these years, I've been wishing my parents were dead just so I could have all the money, and none of the anger, or the rules, and yours practically are, and you're still miserable!"

Selina genuinely smiled. "Yeah. Something like that."

Although just about anyone else would've found Draco incredibly annoying and offensive, the things that he said were more entertaining to her than stress inducing. He was practically a free source of entertainment.

"Is it true what they say about you?" he asked, finally making eye contact as well as not eating candy.

"Which part?" she wondered. "There's kind of a lot, you know. According to some, my father is a vampire. According to others, my mother was part Veela."

She had a sense already of what he was going to ask, but she wasn't certain.

"No, not that," he shook his head dismissively. "You know."

"No, actually, I don't."

"The part where they say you saw your father murder your mum," Draco replied nonchalantly.

She smiled, knowing she'd been right.

"Yeah. I did, actually."

"Oh."

To her surprise, Draco's casual expression slowly turned to one of sadness and disgust.

"Yeah. I was six. Remember it clear as day. I can tell you all about it, if you like," Selina Romanov offered with a disturbingly subtle smile.

"No. That's—that's okay," he murmured, sitting in the seat quietly for a moment.

Despite the sad awkwardness that lasted a few minutes, Draco Malfoy never left the train compartment.

*****

"Selina Romanov!"

Selina sat before her entire school as she began her first year of Hogwarts, waiting patiently as Professor McGonagall carefully placed the Sorting Hat on her head.

"Mmm, a Romanov, eh?" the old hat recognized as it sat on her head. "Ambitious, cunning, powerful... But also, intelligent, sharp, thoughtful... Oh, I've made my decision. Slytherin!"

Everyone in the Great Hall exploded into applause, but the Slytherin table cheered especially loudly. The Sorting Hat was removed from Selina's head as she promptly left the platform to take a seat at the appropriate table, searching for someone to sit next to. As she walked by, many of the Slytherins waved her over, hoping to gain one of the Romanovs as a friend. One of the students hopeful to gain Selina Romanov as a potential friend was a small, dark-haired girl who Selina had seen pushing one of the Hufflepuff girls on the train in the line for sweets. Not particularly charmed by her desperate smile as she tried to wave her over to sit beside her, Selina looked down at who she would eventually discover was Pansy Parkinson as she passed, the girl who she had seen at a few of her parents' social engagements when she was younger. Before Selina could come to her own conclusion, she was stopped as Draco Malfoy, the dude blond boy she'd met on the train stood in front of her.

"Selina Romanov, right?" he asked her. "We met on the train? Our parents used to know each other."

This time, he was much more cordial and formal.

"Yeah," Selina nodded, looking at him with skepticism.

"These are my friends. Crabbe, and Goyle."

"Yeah, I think I remember them from the parties," she nodded, her face not particularly emotive.

"Come sit with us," he invited her with a wide grin, "Next to me. Our parents all know each other, and look out for one another. We could do the same," he offered, his voice dripping with Machiavellianism.

"I'm not sure I follow," she replied carefully.

This was a lie. She understood exactly what he was suggesting, and was simply waiting for him to clearly lay out the terms of the arrangement.

"You're a Romanov. And, you made it into Slytherin. I saw you hex that Gryffindor boy who stepped on your shoes. I'm guessing you'd be pretty good at magic," he assumed.

"And if I am?"

"Well, I'd like to have a friend like that," he explained. "You see, these two oafs here... they're alright as muscle, but to them, wands are practically just glorified backscratchers. I need someone who's got a few hexes up their sleeve," he said thoughtfully.

"So what, you just need someone to do your dirty work for you?" Selina surmised. "For nothing in return?"

"I didn't say that," he promised her hastily.

"Then, what?" she asked. "What would you have to offer someone who's a good enough friend to cast the occasional hex?"

"You said on the train you liked Quidditch," he said plainly. "What if I told you my father can get tickets anytime he wants? Or, that he could ensure my spot on the team in the next two years, and could probably find room for someone else, if he wanted?"

Selina considered the implications of this proposal of friendship, carefully weighing the pros and cons. She knew she needed no one's help succeeding, but she also knew it certainly wouldn't hurt to make a friend with some influence. She was always looking for a way to ascend to the next level, and she knew with friends like Malfoy and his little henchmen, she could do just that.

"Come sit with us," Draco Malfoy said again. "I think we could be very good friends," he said persuasively, offering his hand for her to shake.

Selina Romanov smiled, shaking his hand. "Nice to see you again, friend."

Draco grinned, nodding his approval as he crudely snapped his fingers, motioning for Goyle to scoot over as if he were a dog. Soon enough, Selina would learn she could actually become very good friends with the likes of Malfoy and his posse. She would soon meet her best friend, Amana Tesfaye, as well as Elspeth Laurier. She didn't know it yet, but the people that she met in Slytherin would soon become like her only family, for better or worse.

Two Years Later

Most at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would've assumed that Draco Malfoy, or perhaps Pansy Parkinson, was the meanest person in school. Most people would have been wrong. Although she rarely ever felt the need to make public displays of arrogant and cruel behavior, Selina Romanov was much more evolved in her own concept of power and intimidation than others. She could be just as domineering as Draco, or just as mean-spirited as Pansy, although she rarely ever felt the need to be. Most who knew her considered her to be most levelheaded of all the 'popular' Slytherins who dominated the school, but few ever made the mistake of considering her to be mild-mannered, or even weak. The most notable difference between Selina and people like Draco was that, while Draco's cruelty was in his words and actions, Selina's cruelty shone through via her silence. Normally, it was Draco who would push the first-year students around, or threaten them with the Unforgivable Curses, but it was Selina who would either laugh at their misfortune, or say nothing at all as she watched. However, she definitely didn't entertain herself with the torture of weaker children as often or as obviously as the others. This commonality that she had with the other boys in Slytherin definitely opened many doors for her, allowing her a place in a friend group that was essentially considered the Hogwarts elite. Whether she liked it or not, to them, Selina was just another one of the boys.

She never failed to make an impression anywhere she went. She was aware of all of it, although she would sometimes elect to ignore the lasting impressions she made. Oftentimes, she didn't know what to expect from them. Selina didn't know that the smile she'd offered to a lonely eleven year-old Hufflepuff boy would lead to him waiting outside of her dorms every day for a week with flowers he'd picked outside. She also was horrified to find that a strange old wizard she'd met in Diagon Alley while shopping for her school books when she was eleven was so captivated by her that he violently offered her money for her shoes. Just about everyone who met Selina Romanov had an opinion of her. Her best friend, Amana Tesfaye, would've described her as a beautiful, kind soul. Another close friend of hers, Draco Malfoy, would've described her as a funny person and a shockingly talented Quidditch player, although he never would've said it to her face. Pansy Parkinson would've and had called her an attention whore before, and her close friend Daphne Greengrass would've referred to her as a stuck-up bitch. Many people disliked or even hated Selina, often for reasons that actually had nothing to do with her in reality, but of course, even more people liked her. Still, it was at times difficult for her to focus on this.

She didn't get along with many people. When she was six years old, her father Ilya Romanov had been famously sent to Azkaban Prison for murdering his wife and Selina's mother, leaving her in the care of her grandmother, who resented her. Needless to say, when Selina started her first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she hadn't expected to end up in one of the groups that everyone in their grade constantly talked about. Selina came from a particularly wealthy family with an ancient, all-magic lineage of Pureblood witches and wizards, which was an incredibly rare thing in the wizarding world. Both of her parents had come from Pureblood families that belonged to incredibly exclusive and tight-knit social circles. At almost all of the events she'd attended throughout her childhood, Selina had interacted with a lot of the same children close to her age over the years, many of which, she found out, also attended Hogwarts. Surprisingly to her, upon starting school at Hogwarts, Selina had actually ended up making friends with a few of them, particularly a boy named Draco Malfoy, one of the more popular boys at school, who became one of her best friends.

Although Selina was popular and had made many different friends and acquaintances, she still was a very unusual witch, with rather unusual powers. Selina Romanov came from two powerful and unique bloodlines, her father being descended from the famous Romanovs, and her mother being descended from the Bonheur family, a famous line of witches and wizards. The Romanovs, with Selina's father Ilya being no exception, were known amongst wizards for being exceptionally gifted in dueling, especially when it came to curses and other forms of Dark magic. Although Selina's mother's side of the family did not share this particular gift, they did in fact have other unique traits. The Morais bloodline had been cursed, with something unidentifiable. For some inexplicable reason, the Morais's had a strange connection to death. Many of them had been born with various diseases, with Selina's mother having been born with a metabolism so strong that it had almost killed her in her childhood. Others in the Morais family formed eerie connections with Dark creatures, such as Dementors, Nundus, or Horned Serpents. Many also strongly suspected that Selina's mother, Adeline, had been part Veela. The Veela were beautiful magical creatures with pale skin and golden hair so light it was almost white, capable of charming and seducing humans.

Although it was in fact true, it was only rumored that Selina Romanov's grandmother, Dominique Morais, was a quarter Veela with beautiful blonde hair and sky blue eyes. Selina's mother Adeline, when she was alive, was a radiant and beautiful woman with golden brown hair and cool blue eyes, a trait which she had passed down to her daughter. Selina Alyona Romanov, much like her mother, had a rare sort of gift when it came to her occasional encounters with Dark creatures. When she had been alive, Adeline Romanov had many special abilities. Although she was an Animagus, and could turn into a graceful dove at will, which also happened to be the form that her Patronus took, also had a gift with Dark creatures that would've killed any other witch or wizard who dared to approach them. When she was younger, Adeline had practically made a pet out of a dangerous Horned Serpent she'd encountered on a trip to the far east. A gifted Parseltongue, Adeline had been able to speak to snakes in their language. When she'd encountered a Horned serpent on her travels after Hogwarts, she was able to use a part of its horn as the core to her wand. Adeline Romanov's wand was one of the most precious heirlooms that her daughter had inherited after her death. Although she was unable to use it, even Selina recognized that the wand was a precious heirloom. Her mother's wand had been exceptionally powerful and intimidating to any who were aware of it.

The wand that had belonged to Adeline Romanov had been twelve inches long, made from ebony with a Horned Serpent horn core. Although Selina hadn't inherited her mother's gift for Parseltongue, or the ability to use her wand, she had inherited her mother's talent for complex magic. Little over half a year ago, at only thirteen years old, Selina had used her mother's diaries to successfully perform the Animagus ritual. She had, as a very young witch, completed the complex ritual and drank the potion that allowed her to become an animal at will. Upon completing the ritual, Selina had revealed her Animagus form to be a raven, which felt like a faint connection to her mother. Selina's powers were both potent and unusual, something she had in common with both of her parents. Like her father, Selina Romanov had joined the Slytherin Quidditch team at Hogwarts at a young age. She had first been chosen as a Chaser on the Slytherin team a year before during her second year, even earlier than Ilya Romanov who had become the team's Seeker during his third year at Hogwarts. In her first year of playing on the Slytherin Quidditch team, Selina had gotten the chance to show off her years of learning maneuvers from books her father had left behind in only one game, due to most Quidditch matches having been canceled after the deaths of multiple students. Selina had been selected as one of the team's Chasers during tryouts on her own merit, although her connection to Draco Malfoy, whose father had donated expensive Nimbus 2001's to the Slytherin team in order to secure his place on the team as Seeker.

She was an exceedingly talented Quidditch player, and would have enjoyed playing as Seeker on the Quidditch team, although after she had learned that her friend had his eyes on the position of Seeker, she realized that her efforts and strategy would be even more useful to the team as a Chaser. Selina and Draco Malfoy's friends were certainly jealous of the two of them as players on the Slytherin team, which often came out when they discussed Quidditch. A thirteen year-old Selina Romanov sat at the window seat of the train compartment on the way to Hogwarts, sighing as she watched the train pass by mountains and rivers. She was trying her best to tune out everything else that had been going on. Sitting next to her was Draco Malfoy, who had been engaging in a lively argument about something Quidditch-related with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, who sat across from them in the car.

"No it wasn't, you twat! Goyle. You went to that match, right?!" Malfoy exclaimed.

"Yeah, it was a foul!"

"No, for fuck's sake, it wasn't!" Draco yelled, not getting the answer he wanted out of him. "Sel! You went to the game with us! Was it a foul, or not?" he demanded impatiently.

"Will you three just shut the fuck up already?" Selina scoffed. "I can't even hear myself read!"

"Who the hell reads a book on the train to school?" Draco argued.

"Someone who's actually going to become a Chaser this year," she replied smugly, shooting a look at Crabbe, who just stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

"Crabbe, a Chaser?" he laughed at the idea. "The only thing I've ever seen him chase after is a pumpkin pie."

Goyle laughed at the crude joke at Crabbe's expense, insulting him as he enjoyed it wholeheartedly.

"I wouldn't be so smug if I were you, Malfoy," Selina remarked. "The only reason I'm not going out for Seeker is because you want it more than I do."

"Like you could beat me," he sneered, very obviously overconfident in his abilities.

"I have. Multiple times," she reminded him, "Eight times, just this summer."

Draco shook his head at her dismissively, trying not to admit that she had, in fact, beat him at playing for the golden snitch many times before, and that she usually did. Selina Romanov was one of the youngest players to make Slytherin's Quidditch team in years, having been chosen as one of the team's Chasers last year at Hogwarts after her impressive tryouts. Draco Malfoy, although he had tried to hide it then, had been extremely jealous of her their first year at Hogwarts. He of course had made the Quidditch team the year before, as the Slytherin team's Seeker, allegedly after a substantial donation of brand new Nimbus 2001's for the entire team from his father. Selina, unlike Draco, had a greater sense of integrity when it came to her athletic abilities. If she hadn't earned something on her own, it wasn't nearly as satisfying of an accomplishment to her. She wanted to be the best, certainly, but usually only if she'd actually achieved it herself. But still, she was certainly grateful for the sleek black brooms gifted to the team by a vicariously ambitious Mr. Malfoy. Selina treasured her Nimbus 2001, believing strongly that, although a truly skilled player didn't need any fancy equipment in order to succeed, good equipment could certainly enhance one's game.

As the train ride to Hogwarts progressed, Selina watched for the Dementors that would be supposedly searching the train for Sirius Black, the murderer who had recently escaped from Azkaban Prison. Crabbe had eventually fallen asleep after an intense sugar crash, followed by Goyle who had nodded off beside him. Draco sat awake across from Selina, switching back and forth between fiddling with something he'd found in his bag and watching her read her Quidditch book. After being on the train for about an hour of so, Draco had grown restless and began watching Selina Romanov gently pet her cat as she read, affectionately scratching the animal lightly behind the ears. Selina's cat, an undeniably adorable Norwegian forest cat with brown fur so dark it almost appeared black, was sitting beside her quietly as she read. Bored, Malfoy stood and walked towards Selina's side of the train car which she shared with Goyle. He forcefully scooped up the animal only by its shoulders, prompting it to hiss rather loudly at him as he set the cat down on his lap. Selina looked up at him, frowning.

"Freya doesn't like that, you prick," she snapped.

"Oh, relax, she'll get over it!" Draco complained, forcing the cat back into his lap as he lazily pet her.

Not appreciating his brutish forcefulness, the cat hissed again before aggressively scratching his arm.

"Ow!" he hissed, sucking on the bleeding scratch on his arm as Freya the cat remained sitting in his lap.

"I told you," Selina muttered.

"For fuck's sake, Sel, that hurt! Why isn't she leaving?" he demanded, scowling down at Freya.

"Well, you've already gone and upset her! You might as well give her some attention," Selina remarked indifferently as she read.

He sighed with boredom, picking the cat up in his arms as he he held her close to him, petting her as he clicked his tongue quietly, as if speaking to her in their own little language. Freya eventually accepted Draco's presence, and purred against his body. He chuckled as she purred softly, scratching her nose with his index finger.

"Hello," he whispered to her, her head raised as she demanded more. "Hello there, you fluffy little thing."

Selina just shook her head at him as she read, knowing that her cat also enjoyed his company but hated it at the same time.

"Hi, little kitten," he said absentmindedly as he pet Freya. "Yes! You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?"

Setting her book down, Selina crossed her arms as she rested against the wall, wishing that she had a blanket.

"How old is she, again?" Draco asked her considerately.

"She's about five. Fairly young, for a cat. Got her when she was a kitten."

"I like her," he said obsessively, setting her down and allowing her to sleep on his lap. "Even if she scratches the hell out of me."

"Only because you go and annoy the hell out of her," she pointed out.

"I wish I had a cat," he thought. "I mean, I have Ares, but a pet I can actually play with would be nice."

"I'm sure Ares is big enough to have a nice game of catch with," she chuckled at the thought of Draco's giant eagle owl.

"It's not the same," he sighed. "I want a pet that's meant to be played with. Maybe a nice cat, or a big dog."

"You, with a big dog?" she chuckled. "Draco, I've seen you get scared of especially big mice."

"That doesn't count, they came at me!" he insisted, earning an amused smile from Selina Romanov.

He fished into his pockets for snacks, pulling out a small bag of sweets from his mother.

"Chocolate muffin?" he offered her one.

She nodded with a smile, taking one from him as she ate contently.

"Are these from that one bakery she took us to?" Selina asked curiously to pass the time.

Draco nodded. "They're the best. Not too sweet, not too bitter, either. I don't like chocolate that much, honestly. Too much and it gets really bitter."

"I'm not much of a chocolate fan," she agreed, "I just eat it when it's there."

"Are you and Pansy Parkinson friends?" he asked, changing the subject out of nowhere.

"Not particularly," she shrugged, "Why?"

"Have you heard what she's been saying about you?" he asked her. "And me."

"No," she scoffed, "Why would I care what she says?"

"You shouldn't, she's like a walking Babbling Curse," he said frankly.

"Why?" Selina asked, brows furrowed. "What's she been saying?"

"She's been saying you're dating Goyle," Draco stifled a heavy laugh, "And that we fancy each other," he spoke slowly.

"Oh really, is that all?" she asked in disbelief. "She could write a whole gossip column, that one."

"I'll say. Blaise says he heard from Tracey she's been blabbing to everyone all summer. Both of our names have been in those letters at least a few times," Draco remarked.

"Why? What else has she got to say about us?" she wondered.

She didn't see a reason as to why Pansy Parkinson would go to such great lengths to convince everyone that Selina and Draco were a couple, considering that everyone knew it was Pansy who really fancied him.

"I didn't pay attention to much of it. She did try to start a rumor that you killed your mum, though," he said with disdain. "And that you and Blaise are dating. He's not very happy about that one."

"Oh, I'm flattered," she rolled her eyes.

"No," he rolled his eyes at her, "It's not that Blaise doesn't think you're fit, I think he just hates Pansy," he assured her.

"Hmm, can't see why anyone would do that," Selina said.

"Yeah," he muttered, looking out the train window.

"Do you?" she raised an eyebrow.

Draco looked away from the window. "'Do I' what?" he snapped.

"Hate her?" she finished. "Or... is it something else?" she asked.

"What are you playing at?" Draco snapped, sitting back expectantly.

"Nothing," she laughed, amused by his disdain, "Nothing."

He didn't believe her for a moment as she failed to stifle her giggles.

"No, really! What are you getting at?" he cocked his head at her accusingly.

"I'm not getting at anything," she assured him in ridicule. "Relax."

He heaved a loud, pouty sigh as he continued to look out the window, thinking about his complaints about nothing in particular. He eventually relaxed in his seat, falling almost asleep underneath the blanket his mother had packed in his bag for him, looking out the window. The both of them had nearly drifted asleep, until a growing commotion spread about the train. Draco was the first to be woken by it, looking over at Selina as he heard noise. She noticed his concern, looking around.

"What is that?" he asked her, looking out the window and seeing shapes somewhere in the darkness. "What's out there?"

"I don't know," she responded tiredly, trying to fall back asleep. "I don't care."

"My father says the Ministry's allowed the Dementors to leave Azkaban to act as security at Hogwarts," he recalled, "Do you think that's what that is?"

"Probably, yeah," Selina replied indifferently. "Now go to sleep."

He sighed aloud as he failed to return to sleep. Draco sat up, completely awake, as Selina, Crabbe, and Goyle all peacefully rested throughout the train ride, at least for a short while. With Draco's unrest and constant shifting about, Selina had woken up shortly, feeling disoriented. It didn't take long for her to notice what it was that had caught Draco's attention. The flying, cloaked Dementors hadn't actually entered the car that she and Draco were riding in, but as she watched one of them pass, she saw the darkness looming over them for just a moment, and felt an indescribable sense of dread as she observed from a distance. As they passed through the train, Selina exchanged glances with Draco. While he didn't seem to fully share her sense of disturbance, he had also seemed mildly uncomfortable for a moment as everyone else hardly noticed the Dementors, and continued on as if nothing had happened. Although no one else seemed to understand the effect that the Dementors had on those who felt their presence, Selina had learned through Draco's relentless bullying that Harry Potter, the infamous survivor of an attack by none other than Lord Voldemort, had been so affected by the Dementors' presence that, for a little while, he had been knocked completely unconscious on the train.

"Those Dementors. They're fucking disgusting-looking," Draco muttered to Selina as they walked from the train station to the boats that went over the most to the Hogwarts castle.

"I don't think they should really be allowed at a school," she stated. "That can't be safe."

"Why, because little baby Potter's gone and collapsed?" he argued crassly. "Please. He'll he taking photos and signing autographs again in no time."

"You sure you don't wish you could be the one signing autographs and babies?" she grinned.

"What are you saying? Me? Jealous of that prat?" he gave a haughty, forced laugh from his chest. "It'd be like a snake watching a rat eat rubbish and getting jealous."

"Hey, I could give you a scar right now and make you famous," Selina teased, playfully pointing her wand at him.

Draco broke his facade of arrogance as he quickly reached for the wand, just as Selina pulled it away with quick reflexes, as he chased after her. He raced after her, reaching out as she easily alluded him, running circles around the other Slytherin students. Trapped in by the crowds of other students, Selina was completely boxed in as Draco scooped her up in his arms, lifting her up off the ground and she slapped him in return. He childishly ran off despite her protests, carrying her in front of him the same way he would a heavy box. Selina slapped him jokingly on the face as he dropped her, the two of them rushing off towards the boats.

"Alright, three to a boat!"

The school's groundskeeper called to help the first years as all of the students piled into the small boats. Selina and Draco looked around for a third person, hoping to find Blaise Zabini, or perhaps Crabbe or Goyle to join them as they climbed in. Instead, it just so happened to be Pansy Parkinson who had climbed with them into the wooden boat. Selina turned back to look at her, but before she could utter a single word, the boat had already pushed off from the docks, launching them on a painfully slow journey, with only Pansy, to the school castle.

"Oh. Parkinson," Draco nodded to her, as Selina glanced at him with wide eyes.

"Hi, Draco," she chuckled coyly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "How was your summer?"

"Oh, it was alright. We summered in Paris again.," he said to her haphazardly. "It was pretty boring."

"I got your letter," she blurted out eagerly. "It was really nice."

He smiled, nodding in silence as they exchanged awkward but polite looks.

"Did you see the Dementors on the train?" Pansy piped up hopefully.

"Yeah, we talked to Blaise, they went through the entire train," Selina Romanov spoke to avoid the awkward silence.

"I wasn't talking to you!" Pansy squealed impatiently, earning surprised expressions and eyebrow raises from both Selina and Draco.

She just sat there, her jaw dropping as a laugh of disbelief slipped out, her eyes widening with excitement as she barely resisted the temptation of slapping her right across the face. She stared back at Draco, who only shrugged at her with a particularly insufferable smirk on his face. At first, Pansy's constant snapping at Selina had been cute and charming, simply an adorable quirk, but eventually, Selina had stopped finding it cute. She was willing silent for the rest of the boat ride to Hogwarts, watching Pansy fawning over Draco the entire time, appealing to nothing but his ego the entire time. Selina could hardly wait for the boat to dock. She was more than eager to see the rest of her friends, including Jasper Carroll, who was not only one of her favorite people at Hogwarts, but anywhere.

"Sit next to me at dinner?" Pansy asked Draco hopefully.

"And catch which diseases?" Selina asked with a cold grin on her face, walking away as Draco followed her with a laugh, leaving Pansy alone at the docks.

Selina always got the last word. They continued on to the castle with Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini, discussing the Hogwarts Quidditch teams, as well as various school gossip, much of which naturally included Harry Potter, the boy famous for having survived his parents' murder as an infant. Selina, even if she never participated much in the boys' childish behavior, occasionally took interest in listening to the cruel gossip and insults that they shared with one another. To her, it was fairly natural to let out a wry chuckle at some of their crude jokes, or give one of them a friendly smack in response. Although Selina Romanov was nowhere near as shameless as her friends when it came to the insults that easily transitioned into straightforward bullying, she was certainly just as ruthless, if not worse at times, whether or not she chose to openly exhibit it. Selina Romanov was genuinely a fair and even-tempered sort of person, even when it came to the likes of Harry Potter, who Draco and many of the others in Slytherin all relentlessly made an enemy of. Selina had hardly ever lashed out at others unprompted, mostly because she never deemed the potential consequences to be worth it, but just about everyone at Hogwarts knew that under her calm exterior, she was equally as capable of inflicting pain as Draco, or Crabbe and Goyle, or even Pansy Parkinson.

Pansy Parkinson was essentially a female version of Draco Malfoy, terrorizing the female population of Hogwarts with extremely personal humiliation and name-calling as well as threats of unspeakably horrible gossip as opposed to physical violence. Selina Romanov was more so the reasonable mother that the children went to the father instead of when she said no, with an additional mini skirt and pink lip gloss. In a way, Pansy's version of bullying was much worse than Draco's could ever be. Pansy put much more effort into her torture of others than Draco Malfoy ever did. While he would simply stab at them in the dark with meaningless insults and silly physical blows until he grew bored of them and abandoned the endeavor altogether, Pansy spent time on her pursuits, gathering leverage against her carefully picked targets and going for their very worst weaknesses until they could take it no longer. She was far worse than a bully, chipping away at the self esteem and very sanity of all the girls she decided that she hated at Hogwarts, for various reasons. However, most were smart enough to understand that Selina Romanov was far worse, or at least she could be, if she ever wanted to be. There were countless examples, little displays, in which Selina's potential outweighed Pansy's by far. There was the time Selina had knocked Angelina Johnson off of her broom the year before in the midst of a rather intense Quidditch match against Gryffindor, or the time she had stolen Fred Weasley's Beater's bat to hit the Quaffle away from him during a game.

There was also the time that she had called Millicent Bulstrode an 'interrupting cow' to her face for publicly calling Tracey Davis ugly during a conversation she and Selina had been having, or the time that she had gotten away with using the illegal growth hex on Marcus Belby's head, causing it to swell up to six times its normal size after he'd been boasting in the Great Hall by using a Confundus charm on a first-year, or the time that she cast a Flagrante curse on some Hufflepuff boy's wand when she noticed him trying to hex Draco behind his back, which resulted in his hand being severely burned after coming into contact with the wand. She never liked to seem hot-tempered or immature, but when the situation called for it, Selina Romanov was an expert at retaliation. She was indeed very formidable of an opponent when it came to magic, especially various forms of Dark magic, typically in the form of spells or even interacting with Dark creatures in the forest. It wasn't unusual for Selina to leave the Hogwarts castle and hide away in the Dark forest to find the thestrals, the black winged horses that could only be seen by those who have witnessed death. The Thestrals, which were often misunderstood as dangerous, were very gentle creatures that appreciated attention, seeing as many witches and wizards couldn't even see them.

It was true, Selina was an entirely uncommon witch with powers that seemed to have the potential to rival even her father's when he was her age. When Ilya Romanov attended Hogwarts as a young Slytherin, around the same as the Malfoys, who he had become fast friends with, he had a definite talent for advanced spells, especially those which could be used against his fellow students. Ilya Romanov, even in his early years, had been gifted with hexes and curses, especially with nonverbal magic that gave him the impactful advantage of catching his opponents off guard. Selina, just like her father, was undeniably talented and could easily accomplish much of the same magic that he could at her age, and much more. Ilya Romanov was, to this day, was immensely skilled at dueling, which Selina had to bear witness to the day that her mother died. She was skilled at magic, especially combative magic that required a sharp mind and quick reflexes, which also proved equally convenient when it came to her interactions with those like Pansy, who made the mistake of underestimating her as a rival.

Pansy might've been cunning, and her words might've been biting, but still, it was Selina who ultimate ended up walking away for dinner with Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini, while she was left to return to her other friends. Pansy didn't understand the influence that Selina had. In her eyes, Selina could try half as hard as Pansy and still get twice as much out of people. Pansy Parkinson could hardly understand why Selina was practically silent most of the time, and usually only had the occasional eyebrow raise or sly sneer to offer, and yet all the boys, including Draco at times, always seemed to take her side. It seemed no matter what Pansy said or did, no matter what she had up her sleeve to tip the scales in her favor, everyone seemed to be more inclined to be swayed by what she would describe as her eerie good looks and silence disguised as poise. Pansy watched with a maddening envy as Selina walked with the boys, sandwiched between Blaise and Draco talking Ministry business that they'd heard about from family and read in the papers as they gestured colorfully and made cracks about Ministry employees and their various laughable qualities.

Selina sat at the welcoming feast with the boys, as she usually did. She sat beside Draco with her best friend, Amana Tesfaye, on her other side, across from Blaise, who reluctantly sat by Crabbe and Goyle. She has noticed her friend Jasper Carroll sitting far down the Slytherin table on the same side. Jasper smiled, his long, dark hair offsetting the friendly smile on his face. Selina had kindly waved back to him, the two of them chuckling at themselves as they momentarily ignored everyone sitting around them. After the students' first dinner of the year at Hogwarts, which had been initiated by a rather disturbing speech from the Headmaster regarding the Dementors guarding the school and watching out for Sirius Black, the Slytherins had all retreated to their common room, in the dungeons beneath the rest of the school, where Selina had accompanied the boys to the dormitory that they shared, sitting on the floor, talking and laughing together as they all shared the half bottle of Firewhisky that one of the boys who slept in another room had stolen from his parents. After a while, the others had all gone to sleep, leaving Draco and Selina sitting up without the bottle, trying not to wake them as they talked later and later into the night. Before either of them knew it, it had been hours since dinner, and Draco Malfoy sat around chortling uncontrollably, with the help of the small amount of Firewhisky he'd drank. Funny enough, Selina had drank more of the Firewhisky than he had, and was growing bored of indulging his childishness. He was currently leaned up against his bed, his hand supporting him on the ground.

"Careful," Selina spoke slowly, tiring of him as she helped prop him up with her hand, "You're going to fall over."

"I'm fine," he insisted, waving her away as he sat up.

"We should probably go to bed soon, we have to be up early for classes tomorrow," she patted his shoulder.

"Great, get in," Draco replied smugly, nodding at his bed.

Occasionally, Draco's arrogance would result in questionable behavior that, to one who wasn't accustomed to him, might perceive as flirting, or even genuine affection. Luckily, Selina knew how to avoid this sort of trap.

"Okay. I'm going to assume that's your own stupidity talking, with the help of the Firewhisky," she concluded, unamused.

She was starting to miss Jasper more and more as she continued spending time with Draco again.

"Oh, come on, we shared my bed during that thunderstorm our first year," he reminded her.

"Yes, after I told you I'd give you ten minutes because you were so scared," she laughed in disbelief.

"You liar, I was not scared," he scoffed, lying to her through his teeth.

"Really? And you just snuck into my dorm and shook me awake screaming about lightening because you were bored?" she questioned.

He thought for a moment, for some reason hesitant to answer the question.

"I-I hate thunder, alright?" he shrugged, as if it were nothing.

"I know you do," she assured him with a chuckle, watching as he struggled to understand why he'd answered the question that way.

"More Firewhisky?" he prompted.

"He left with the bottle. Remember?" Selina asked, forgetting the name of the boy who'd brought it.

"I have my own," he scoffed, pulling a new, full bottle out of his trunk, offering it to her.

"Go to sleep," Selina said firmly, grinning back at him as she left his dormitory.

*****

The next morning, Selina had reluctantly took her seat in Charms class with Professor Flitwick, waiting alone as she flipped through the day's lessons out of boredom. Draco Malfoy and a few of her other friends in Slytherin took their seats near her, as she sat sandwiched between Draco and a sweaty Crabbe who had definitely forgotten at least two different forms of personal hygiene that particular morning.

"Crabbe! You smell like absolute dog shit, bloody hell, when was the last time you bathed!" Draco exclaimed sharply, naturally plugging his nose for an added dramatic effect.

The large boy just shrugged, which Selina found especially promising.

"Did you hear about Quidditch tryouts? They're supposed to start a couple weeks from now," she told Draco.

"Please. As if I actually have to try out," Draco Malfoy scoffed smugly. "All I have to do is show up, and I'm the Seeker. I've got it made."

"That's the spirit," she muttered sarcastically, shut her book.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll be able to make Chaser again this year," he teased, "Crabbe probably knows he's better off just going out for Beater. He might not be a good...well... anything, but he's definitely got the build of a good Beater. Or three of them," he remarked snidely.

She couldn't help but smirk a little at Draco's stupid joke. Selina was equally as mean-spirited as Draco, whether others picked up on it or not. She was the kind of girl who seemed shy and timid, but really whenever she actually spoke, her words had a sort of sting to them. Usually, she chose to keep most of her less-than-kind thoughts to herself. The most important distinction between she and Draco was, of course, how they chose to express it. Oftentimes, they would clash with one another due to Draco's arrogance and rudeness towards those who didn't deserve it, combined with Selina's indifference and more evolved sense of humor. However, they still seemed to be able to get along, even if it wasn't always clear how. Not more than a few seats down, Pansy Parkinson sat scowling spitefully right in Selina's direction. She resented her easygoing friendship with Draco, the way he would readily approach her and speak to her, or joke with her, or share things with her, the way Pansy knew he never would with her. Why she couldn't be as good to him as Selina Romanov, she had no idea.

"You know, I'm getting sick of all these stupid restrictions. You can't even take a piss at night!" Draco complained. "But I suppose if I was a serial killer like Sirius Black, I'd come back here to kill Dumbledore, or that twat Potter, too."

"What did Dumbledore ever do to you?" she scoffed, ignoring his childish rants.

Draco Malfoy ignored her, engaging in his conversation with Crabbe and Goyle once again. Much of a fairly dull class with Professor Flitwick passed by, as Draco sat quietly beside Selina, patiently waiting for her to finish each item on the assignment as he copied down the answers.

"You know one of these days, you'll actually have to do things by yourself," she reminded him.

"But I have you to help me," he smiled, looking down as he leisurely decided on which questions to intentionally get wrong so as to make it seem as if he'd done his own work.

"Not to sound like a parent, but I can't always be around, you know," she pointed out.

"Well, that's sad," Draco pouted. "I like when you explain things, or tell me what to do. It's like having a teacher I actually like. You just get me!" he attempted to convince her.

"Whatever you say, Malfoy," Selina sighed, shutting her textbook.

She sat there playfully indulging Goyle's questionable attempts at polite conversation, awkwardly agreeing with his points, which she wasn't quite paying attention to anymore, some poorly stated and justified hot takes on the Chudley Cannons. Everyone except Gregory Goyle knew that the entirety of Slytherin House, as well as many of the other students at Hogwarts, were well aware of his gigantic crush on Selina.

"Sel," Draco interrupted him.

She was, to her own surprise, thrilled that Draco had decided to interrupt her conversation.

"We should probably get some Quidditch practice in," he digressed suddenly. "Meet you down at the pitch before dinner?"

"What's this? Malfoy? Practicing?" she sarcastically raised an eyebrow.

Malfoy rolled his eyes impatiently. "Shut up. I need to work on my skills, and I need someone to practice with who isn't Crabbe or Goyle."

"So, someone who doesn't have a limp penis for a brain?" she concluded.

"Yes, exactly. What do you say?"

"Alright then, I'll meet you out on the pitch at four," she agreed, "We'll split our time between both of our needs."

"Perfect. You're the only one good enough to practice with. If I had to spend one more practice with Crabbe running out of breath or Goyle getting his left and right confused, I think I'd have to walk myself straight into the Black Lake," Draco muttered mostly to himself.

*****

After the day's classes had come to an end, Selina took a walk down to the Quidditch pitch with Jasper Carroll, who she'd made friends with the year before. Jasper was a year older, and was also in Slytherin. She had run into Jasper on his way out of Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Lupin, the new teacher who everyone seemed to like.

"Honestly. Lupin's fucking hilarious. He totally told off that one Gryffindor who always smells like cheese," Jasper Carroll chuckled in his light Irish accent as they leisurely walked their laps around the pitch. "You really should've been there."

"Sounds like it," she agreed, laughing at the mental image.

"Do you walk the pitch every day?" he asked curiously.

"I would if I could," she nodded. "I do a lot, though."

"Is it really your favorite place at Hogwarts?" he inquired.

"It's one of them," Selina shrugged, "It's peaceful when it's empty, and comforting even when it's busy."

"What are the other good places to peruse?" he questioned. "Usually, when I want to unwind, I just stay in my bunk."

"Hmm. The courtyard's always nice, but a lot of the times, you'll either see people you don't want to see, or see people being as stupid as they can," she remarked. "The forest is always good, too. Sometimes, I see Hagrid out, and we wave to one another. In the winter, sometimes he'll invite me into his hut for tea."

"Hagrid's a very nice man," Jasper recalled, "He's nice to talk to. He's taken me out to the forest with him before, and he lets me take care of his dog. No wonder those Gryffindors are friends with him."

"Hagrid's one of the nicest people I've ever met, I don't know why people judge him so quickly," Selina said. "I wish he was my father."

"I wish he was my father and my mother," he agreed, making her laugh.

She had gotten to know him very well in the past year that they'd known each other. Jasper's mother had left his father when he was very young. Ever since, Jasper had told Selina that his father had always been distant and flippant with him ever since, choosing Jasper's stepmother and step siblings over him every time. His father didn't seem to speak to him at all, unless it was to criticize or reprimand him for not conforming to his wishes. Jasper's less than desirable home life was the subject of almost half of the letters he wrote to Selina over the summer. He never would've admitted it, even to himself, but as he watched Selina laugh he found it was something he associated with the idea of bliss itself. Something about her soft laughter was as serene and expressive as it could get. When he thought of laughter, he instantly thought of Selina Romanov and her deep, gentle chuckles. Seeing Selina chuckle for the first time not long after he had first met her was surprising and a little jarring, as if it was easy to forget that such a reserved and poised sort of person could smile and laugh. Something about Selina made her almost seem to be above laughter altogether. She was, on the surface, graceful and magnetic, with an angelic face that both pulled you in and kept you at a distance.

Selina had inherited all of the infamous Romanov characteristics. She had radiant olive skin and greyish blue eyes, framed by long black hair that just barely hid sharp cheekbones and an angular jawline, as well a long, thin button nose. Although she had inherited her father's features, she no doubt reflected all of her mother's beauty in them. Adeline Morais Romanov had been one of the most beautiful women in existence to any of those who had known her. She was both descended from nobility and known for her captivating, otherworldly beauty. Many men tried and failed to earn her hand in marriage, Selina's father Ilya had been considered blessed when he had married her mother. To hear of his brutal murder of his wife years ago was surprising to many, to say the very least. Although Selina had hardly known her mother, she found herself relating to her constantly as she got older, having read all of the old diaries that she'd left behind. Selina had related to Adeline in all of the things that she had found joy in, and even more so in her many sadnesses throughout life.

Adeline had always been a beautiful woman, especially to the men in her life. Including her father. The horrors of Adeline Romanov's childhood and her daughter's seemed be likened to one another by one thing in particular; Adeline's mother, Dominique Morais. Much like her mother, Selina had been subjected to a long childhood of silent suffering most easily defined by tears that she'd been struck for no matter the reason, as well as brutal fasting from a young age. Selina's childhood had never truly been a happy one, even in its best moments, no matter how much money she'd had growing up. It was one undeniable reason for her friendship with Draco Malfoy. He understood, when he would actually let on, what it was like to have everything but still never know warmth. Selina didn't have many friends at Hogwarts. The first person she'd met, Draco, was the first person who reminded her of the warmth of family. Draco was funny, immature, and kind, at times. He never made her feel sad or strange. He was willing to bring up her mother's murder, or tease her without fearing she'd burst into tears at any moment. Jasper, naturally, was the second person she'd met who she could also share that feeling with. Jasper Carroll was gentle and trustworthy, and she could tell he truly cared. Selina liked spending time with Jasper. Both of them often forgot that he was actually a year older. To them, they were true equals.

"How are you feeling about Quidditch tryouts this year?" Jasper asked thoughtfully.

Selina laughed emptily. "I wish you wouldn't ask that. That's all anyone's asked me about since they were announced."

"My apologies, then," he accepted, "Shall we discuss the cheesy Gryffindor, then?"

"No," Selina scoffed, "Absolutely not."

"Very well then. What would you like to talk about, then?" he asked grandly.

She grinned humorously. "Who says we have to talk?"

Jasper turned to her curiously, just as her form in its entirety seemed to disappear, transforming into the tiny figure of a sleek, black raven flying graceful circles around him. His mouth stood slightly open in awe, watching her with pleasure. He laughed happily as the little bird swooped back down, landing perfectly on his shoulder.

"Hello there," he beamed, very softly petting the bird's head with a single finger. "I'm still jealous you already mastered the Animagus ritual. You know, you'd think the older one would have accomplished it first."

With that, Selina flew off of his shoulder in her raven form, flying to the ground and landing softly in her typical human form. Becoming an Animagus was certainly an accomplishment, especially for someone so young, and was the sort of magical power that could only be managed with someone born to a parent with as much inborn talent as Adeline Romanov, or even Ilya Romanov, let alone the both of them.

"I guess I'm just that talented," she giggled. "You know, my mother was an Animagus, too. She was a dove, when she transformed. She was beautiful. I learned the ritual from one of her diaries."

"A dove? That sounds lovely," he thought.

"It really was, from what I remember," she nodded in agreement. "Watching her take flight... it was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. It's one of the memories I hold onto the hardest."

"I can imagine why," he remarked. "Say, can I ask you a question?"

"What is it?" she asked.

"Do you... do you ever remember your father fondly?" Jasper wondered aloud.

Selina froze, not prepared to answer that particular question. She and Jasper had discussed her mother's death on many occasions, but rarely did he ever have any questions on the subject. And never had he asked that one. The only person Selina had ever fully told about her mother's murder was Draco, and even then, she'd kept many of the traumatic details to herself.

"Erm..." she hardly knew how to respond.

"I'm sorry, Selina," Jasper apologized to her immediately, "I really shouldn't have asked you that—"

"No, it's really okay, Jasper," she cut him off quickly, walking faster ahead, "It's fine. But I, er, I've just got to go..."

"Selina! Wait, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Jasper called, running after her.

"No, you didn't, I'm fine! But really, I've got to go now, I'm supposed to meet Draco for Quidditch at four, I didn't mean to stay this late," she quickly made an excuse.

Jasper watched in distress as she ran off back to the Slytherin dormitories to change. He considered continuing to run after her, but decided against it as he remembered the far away expression on her face when he'd asked about her father.

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