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hops-hunny · 3 years

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Distance Makes the Heart Grow

CHAPTER 8

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia Boss!Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 4k

Summary: (Y/n) lives a normal life. But that’s the issue, it’s normal, it’s plain, and it’s growing boring. Everyday she wishes for something, anything to spice up her life. But, when her old school friend (and crush) shows up at her bakery with a new look (and what looks like a new life), what will it bring for her? Will their puppy love grow? Will his big secret lead to the end of them or will it spark a new beginning?

Warnings: none!

A/N: sorry it took me so long. The rest of the date will be in chapter 9!

(Y/n) huffed, crossing her arms across her chest at the mess Twyla had made. Originally, she had thought asking her to help her get ready for her date was a good idea. The two of them hadn’t spent as much time together as she had liked too and she knew how much Twyla adored fashion. But now, as her various designer dresses and shoes were scattered around the floor along with makeup palettes that had been tossed aimlessly, her patience was wearing thin.

“Was this mess really necessary? I hope you know I’m not cleaning this.” she said, causing the girl to turn around. She tossed a dress on the bed beside the girl before continuing to sift through the manmade jungle she had caused.

“I know. Neither am I, that’s what the maids are for!” she turned, watching as her friend bit at her lip nervously, picking with the skin around the bed of her fingernails. “You know for someone going on her first date, I seem more excited than you do!” when she didn’t get a response she looked over at her shoulder giving her a concerned look.

“I-it’s not that I’m not excited! Trust me, I am. I’ve been waiting for this date for over 7 years. It’s just..” she sighed, looking away from her as her cheeks heated up in embarrassment. “What do you even do on a date? O-or say? What am I supposed to wear?!”

“A good date will flow naturally no matter what you’re doing. And you said Nev was taking you to some fancy restaurant but also on a gondola ride, right? Pick out a dress that’s fancy but also gives you flexibility. Hold up, lemme look I think I saw the perfect dress.” Twyla dove back into the pile of clothes, causing her to giggle at the sight. She continued to lift and throw things until she popped up letting out a loud ‘A-ha!’ she watched as the dress was tossed on the bed along with a pretty pair of strappy white sandals and a purse in the same shade of white. Once she picked the items up, Twyla began to shove her towards the bathroom with the items.

(Y/n) looked in the mirror, letting out a shaky breath. She felt beautiful, undeniably so. Twyla had already taken the liberty of styling her hair and doing her makeup. They had gone for a natural but ethereal makeup look. Dewy foundation, subtle but glowly highlight, a thick layer of gloss along with some individual lashes to make her eyes pop. She felt like a fairy, a princess even. Reaching a jittery hand towards the doorknob, she opened it peaking her head out. Twyla looked up smiling before her jaw dropped at the sight of her friend’s full appearance. Squealing she walked up to her, twirling her around to admire the full look. Sure, she had seen her in a dress before, and even makeup. But this outfit, this look, was much more like her. Yet Twyla couldn’t help but feel as though something was missing.

“Hmm.” she trailed, eyes gazing across the room. Her eyes lit up at the sight of what it was. The diamond encrusted crown lay gently on top of a velvet pillow along with the diamond necklace and earrings. She handed the earrings to (Y/n) to put on before placing the crown on top of her head. Turning her around towards the vanity, she unclasped the priceless necklace before placing it around her neck. “Oh my…(Y/n) you look so beautiful! Like a, like a princess.” she felt her ears tingle from her kind words, smiling as she admired her appearance in the mirror.

“Now, let’s talk lingerie.”

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“Didn’t peg you for the nervous type, boss.” Blaise piped up, chuckling as Neville fiddled with his tie for what seemed like the thousandth time. He glared at the man through the mirror, grumbling under his breath. Blaise wasn’t wrong, he rarely was. The bigger problem at hand was that he was nervous and he didn’t know how to handle it. Neville had punched some of the most powerful men in the face, made people gravel and beg for their lives, hell, he had even killed men and throughout all of that, he had not an ounce of nervousness in his system. But now, when he was taking the little baker girl who he had been madly in love with since they met in school all those years ago, nervous was the main thing he felt. He was excited, sure, plenty, but in actuality he had never been on a real date with someone he had feelings for.

“Do you even know what to do on a date? You were quite the playboy before she came back into your life.” Ron added, mixing around the scotch in his glass, pouring some for Neville who instantly downed it, not even wincing at the taste.

“ ‘S not true!” he said, turning his head some to glare at him. Seamus cackled, wiping the invisible tears in his eyes as he slapped his knee.

“Please boss, you went through more women than George does bullets on a mission, which is a fuck ton.” he said, causing everyone else to agree. The guys had all gathered in the spare room to help him get ready, calming his nerves and even giving him a few pointers. Although a lot of the advice was useless, he was able to make sense out of some of it.

“Okay, well, suppose I am nervous. How should I...what should I do on a date?” he asked, coughing over the last part to cover it up. They all heard loud and clear though, starting to overlap one another before Blaise whistled, causing everyone to silence. Neville gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

“Well, did you buy her flowers?” Draco asked, breaking the silence. He scoffed at the ridiculous question.

“Of course I got her flowers! Did you really ask me of all people that? I picked and charmed a bouquet for her the other night. Each flower was handpicked from my garden with intention behind every single one of them.” he rolled up one of his sleeves, seeing if he preferred them rolled or down. Pondering it he decided to roll them down.

“Well combine that with what we’ve taught you and you’re all set.” Harry said, shrugging some as he looked up from his newspaper. Neville gawked at the men. Taught? The only thing they had taught him was that he needed better friends!

“Taught me?” he let out an exasperated laugh, walking towards them. “Taught me? You haven’t taught me shit! I’d have half the mind to-” a knock on the door caused his breath to hitch. The boys all gave each other knowing smirks but their jaws dropped as the door opened revealing the (h/c) girl in all her glory.

There she stood, skin glowing in the soft streams of sunlight that came from the evening Italian sun. The soft lace and tulle draped across her skin delicately, bits of sparkles from the fabric shining brightly. What caught his eye the most was the crown on her head. Even though he had saw it on her yesterday, it was having the same effect on him today.

“Holy shit.” Seamus whispered, forcing his mouth closed. Not a single pair of eyes weren’t on her.

“Listen, if Nev fucks his date up tonight…” Blaise trailed, causing the girl to giggle, looking at the ground shyly. She glanced up at him through thick lashes, watching as he made his way over to her. He bowed, pressing a kiss to her knuckles causing her to giggle some. As he looked up at her, a soft barely there smile graced his face.

“I don’t think that’ll be happening.” he said as he stood up, grabbing the bouquet of flowers from behind him before handing them to her. “What are you doing here, petal? I said I’d come get you from the room.”

“Twyla was really adamant about you seeing me as soon as possible.” she smiled at the scene that had taken place a few moments beforehand. “She said that I looked too good to be kept waiting.”

“You know, that girl’s always speaking nonsense but for once I’ve gotta say I agree.” Neville said, stroking her cheek gently as he leaned down, placing a soft peck on her lips. “Ready to go?” he asked. She nodded eagerly, wrapping her arms around his arm, waving before exiting the room with him. Seamus watched as they left before standing up, wiping his hands on his pants.

“Where are you going, Finnigan?” Harry asked, quirking a brow at him. Seamus smiled, winking some.

“Launching operation ‘make sure the date goes well’. You didn’t think I was gonna miss out on this did you?” Draco eyed him suspiciously as the vein in his forehead began to throb.

“Twyla set you up to this, didn’t she?” Seamus turned once he got to the doorway, flashing him a smile.

“ ‘Course she did!”

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“Woah! I’ve never seen a car like this in person before.” (Y/n) said, in awe as she walked up to the vintage car. Neville smiled some as the driver came over, bowing as he opened up the door. He slid the driver a large bill, thanking him in italian.

“Yeah, you like it?” she nodded, looking back at him as he climbed in the back of the convertible with her. He pulled her into his side, pulling his Dior sunglasses over his eyes to protect from the evening sun. “It’s mine. Should I have it imported back to England?” her eyes widened. Although Neville had a lot of nice things, she never failed to be surprised when he had something new to show her. She leaned into his side, pulling her legs up onto the seat as the car began to move.

“It’s pretty. I think you should leave it here though. You know, as a memory of tonight.” She looked up at him, smiling some. Neville felt his heart race as he looked down at her. He felt breathless. Whatever he had done in the past years to have the angel of his dreams sitting next to him, going on a date, he’d do it all over again just to see the smile she was giving him. He leaned down, capturing her lips into a passionate yet loving kiss. Their lips locked till they were practically breathless, pulling away. (Y/n) let out a breathless giggle.

Neville pulled out another large bill, leaning forward to hand it to the driver. “Guida piano, sì?” the driver looked at him through the visor mirror, giving him a nod along with a knowing smirk. He sighed to himself as Neville turned back to the girl, laughing at something she had said.

“Ah, giovane amore.”

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Neville opened the door for the girl, holding her hand as she stepped out of the car. He decided first that they could get dinner. It’d be an easy way to set the tone for tonight and give him another opportunity to spoil her yet again. He made sure to pick the best restaurant money could buy but even then, she deserved more. More than money could buy. He smiled as they reached the reception desk, clearing his throat to catch the attention of the man behind the desk.

“Welcome sir, name?” he asked, looking up at the man cluelessly. A few others in the restaurant were noticeably tense, but continued to work.

“Longbottom.” he stated, watching as the man looked through the reservation book. He sucked on his teeth, giving Neville a fake look of sympathy.

“Sorry, it looks like you’re about 5 minutes late! I’m sure if you come back tommo-”

“Did you hear what I said? You might wanna listen closer this time. I’m Neville Longbotom.” the man behind the desk blinked at him blankly before his eyes shot up in a sudden realization. He began to scramble, trying to form some sort of apology. Neville slammed his fist on the desk, leaning forward as he began to speak through gritted teeth. “Just get me my fucking table, yeah? My lady should never be kept waiting and if she has to stand here for one more god damn-”

“Yes, yes! Right this way sir.” he said, grabbing the menus. At some point he dropped them but continued to walk, leading them to a private table near a large window. (Y/n) gasped, leaning against the window to look at the breathtaking view. Below her was the ocean, the sunlight cascading across it as seagulls flew around freely. While she was distracted, Neville took the opportunity to pour two glasses of wine before tapping her shoulder. She turned around, smiling at him.

“You seem to be enjoying the view. I take it the table choice is fine?” he asked, pulling her chair out for her. He pushed her chair up before taking a seat in the one across from her.

“It’s beautiful, I haven't seen anything like it. Last time I saw views this beautiful was Hogwarts.” she tensed slightly as he reached across intertwining their fingers, before relaxing. Her heart was racing wildly, a million different thoughts running through her head. Her and Neville had spent many moments together, far more intimate than this. But there was something so nerve wracking about being with him in public where anyone could see them. (Y/n) found herself growing self conscious about the pressure of it all, but decided to push it aside. She had been waiting for this for years and she wasn’t going to ruin it with a few negative thoughts.

“Yeah? If you like this, you’re gonna love what I have planned for after this.” he smiled at her. After this? He had more than this planned for them? Her wonderings of what it was didn’t last long when the bread was brought out, causing her eyes to light up. As soon as the basket was placed on the table she reached for a slice of the expensive bread, layering butter on it.

“Th-they’ve got the good bread! With the butter that’s all smooth.” she muttered with her mouth full. Neville bit his lip to contain his laughter at her childish display. “Y’know what I’m sayin,?”

He smiled at her, grabbing a piece of his own. “Somehow I do.”

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After 30 minutes of good conversation and 3 bread baskets later, the two were finally ready to order. (Y/n) opened up the menu, gaping at it in confusion. There was so many elaborate names with descriptions even more confusing. Neville noticed this, pulling her menu down to look at her a bit.

“You alright, pretty girl?” he asked, ignoring the impatient waiter that was supposed to take their order.

“I’m alright it’s just...there’s so much confusion. All I wanted was chicken alfredo and I don’t even see it on the menu.” her eyes continued to scan the menu, becoming more perplexed as the names grew longer. Her eyes followed the tattooed finger as it pointed to a name that she didn’t even wanna think about pronouncing.

“ ‘S right there. Don’t worry dove, I’ll order for you.” her shoulders relaxed some as she gave him an appreciative smile. As he sent the waiter off, a silence fell over them. It wasn’t necessarily awkward, but it was clear something needed to be said and for once, it wasn’t on Neville’s end. Did she really wanna ask him now? ‘I should at least wait for dessert, that way it won’t be awkward if he says something I don’t wanna hear.’ she thought to herself.

The silence was encroaching, slowly becoming unbearable. It was suffocating, she felt like she was on a rope, dangling above all the words she wanted to say but couldn’t.

“So I-”

“Do you-”

They both looked at each other as they began to laugh. “You can go. I insist.” he encouraged, taking another sip of his wine before she could protest.

“I was just going to ask if you picked the bouquet yourself? It’s far too beautiful to be store bought, the flowers look happy.” she said, smiling down at the bouquet fondly. When the waiter first came, Neville heavily urged them for a vase to put them in. The waiter originally had been hesitant but when Neville’s jaw began to clench he quickly went to look for a vase in the back room. He smiled at her eye to detail, nodding as he cleared his throat placing his glass back on the table.

“Yeah I did.” he secretly snuck his hand across the table, the edges of their fingers brushing against each other. “Do you remember flower code?” she moved her fingers under his, smiling when he tightened his grip on her hand.

“Of course I do. We learned it together during the spring in the astronomy tower together. Best spring of my life.” she sighed fondly at the memory. “Forget-Me-Nots for true and everlasting love, violets for faith and affection, however, the tulips are leaving my mind. I can’t remember what they mean for the life of me.” she huffed, looking off as she tried to recall their meaning. He chuckled, placing a kiss on her knuckles. He trailed his kisses as far up her arm as he could reach from his position at the table.

“Tulips, well, tulips represent perfection and royalty because that’s what you are to me.” their eyes locked in a passionate gaze, (e/c) meeting his own dazzling ones. “My tulip, so perfect. I have every intention to treat you like royalty.” she was left wordless. Was this all real? She had read many fairy tales growing up and now here she sat, experiencing one of her own. Sure, those fairytales never had dangerous tattooed men with hearts of gold, but the way he looked at her, holding her with such delicacy let her know she had found her prince charming.

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(Y/n) was thankful she had worn a dress because if she had worn jeans? The button would have flown straight off her pants. Her alfredo was delicious, every herb and seasoning used done so perfectly. Not another bite could fit in her. However, when the dessert menu (that featured pictures of each and every dessert) was brought out, she didn’t see why it wasn’t a good idea to get dessert!

“It all looks so good! Like I made it, but better.” she breathed out, eyes scanning the dessert menu eagerly. But when she saw the triple chocolate cake, it was like she was falling in love all over again. “This. We need this Nev or else I might die.” he laughed at her serious expression, rolling his eyes some.

“Alright, love. Un ordine della torta al cioccolato, per favore.” the waiter nodded, writing it down before walking off again. The same silence from before fell over them but this time, she was going to do it. She sighed, grabbing both his hands in one.

“Listen, Nev. There’s been something, or someone, I’ve been meaning to ask you abou-” her eye began to twitch as a familiar figure stood next to their table. She gave her a bone chilling smile before turning to Neville who was much to her surprise, even more upset than she was.

“Ah, Neville! What a pleasure it is to see you here!” she said, holding out her hand for him to kiss. However he glared at it, leaning back in his seat.

“Can I help you Gisele? Actually even if I can, I don’t want to. Get lost.” he said, waving his hand for her to go away. But as expected, she didn’t budge. She leaned forward onto the table, gripping the edge with her red manicured hands. Her cleavage was on display as a fake pout graced her face. “I’m on a date and I’d rather not see you.”

She gasped, placing a hand on her chest in surprise. “A date? Oh my, is that what this is? Gosh I am so sorry! When I met, er what was it? Ah, (Y/n), over here the other day she said you weren’t together!” he raised a brow at this, looking between the two.

“You two met? Why didn’t you tell me, love?” he asked, turning his attention to the girl. She gave Gisele a disgusted one over before looking back at him.

“Well, it wasn’t exactly the most pleasant meeting.” she pushed out, looking at him. He rubbed at his chin a bit as he hummed.

“Really? Do you recall what she said to you?” he asked, knowing it couldn’t have been good. Gisele’s expression gave it all away. Although she feigned being unbothered, her expression was slowly cracking.

“You know as a matter of fact, I do! She said I was a knock off version of her and that you were using me as a replacement for the original!” she said, giving Gisele a wide tooth grinned. Gisele’s lips were parted as she searched for the words to say, mind blanking.

Neville looked between the two girls as he took a sip of his wine. “Now that you mention it, you two do look alike. I never really noticed though, I didn't spend much of any time looking at her face. But now that I am…” he trailed off, eyes tracing Gisele’s features, “You’re definitely not a knock off of her. I think it’d be an insult to you to even insinuate that she’s a knock off of you!” Now it was her turn to be surprised. Had he really not noticed their semblance to one another? It was clear now that not only was it a coincidence, but Gisele’s whole story was a lie.

“You- I- you ruined everything!” she shrilled, stomping her foot angrily. “That should be me in your seat, me on this..” she tuned her out as she looked at her own glass of wine. It would be a shame if the wine was to somehow end up on her ugly little polka dot dress. She squinted her (e/c) eyes, watching as the wine splashed all over the girl’s dress. Gisele paused mid sentence, gawking at her dress. Neville began to cackle, eyeing his date suspiciously. His thoughts were confirmed when she sent him a wink.

“My dress! Look what you did to me!” she wailed, motioning to the giant red stain on her dress. A few people turned to look at them all, whispering as they pointed at the girl.

“Me? I didn’t lift a finger.” she said, shrugging as she gave her an innocent look. “I suppose that’s what happens when you meddle in people’s business.”

“Is there a problem ma’am? Sir?” the voice sounded familiar, but an octave deeper. Turning her head her eyes widened at the sight of both Twyla and Seamus. Both of them were in costumes, fake beards and mustaches on their face along with wigs. She went to say something but when the blonde put a finger to her lip, she quickly decided against it.

“Yeah we got a complaint from the head chef. You’re to be escorted out of here immediately. Come along now.” Twyla said, dragging Gisele along with her. Seamus went to follow but was stopped by Neville. He pulled him close, leaning near his ear.

“Next time if you’re gonna spy on your boss, make it a bit less obvious.” he pat his shoulder, tightening his grip. “Although I’m glad you were able to handle this, I’m gonna ask that you leave. It’s not a suggestion but an order from your boss. I’m a big man, I can handle my date on my own.”

Seamus nodded, tipping his hat to them both. “Boss, mini boss.” and with that, he was gone. Neville turned to her, thanking the waiter once the cake was sat down in front of them, two golden forks on the plate.

“Let’s have dessert, shall we?”

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TAGSLIST: @vayeya11 @pink-hufflepuff @clancyscookies @elemental-of-magic @beewitchedlou @simpforremuslupin @mottergirl99 @nevillelongbottomsgirlfriend @redpanda-poetry @vibingaesthetically @de4d-s0up

#Neville Longbottom #neville x reader #neville longbottom x reader #neville x you #neville longbottom x you #Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #mafia!au #mafia!neville

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smoochkooks · 5 years

Text

—the (un)holy cock-up (m.)

⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader

⟶ genre: smut, angst

⟶ word count: 14.5k

⟶ warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), dirty talk, profanity, unnecessary amount of biblical puns, some critic on catholic church, this is a heavy read be aware

⟶ summary: there is a quite long list of circumstances, with student loan and rent on the very top of it, that led you to work in the sunday’s spirit editorial department, a newspaper overally known among fellow catholic community of busan, with park jimin as your boss.

when your small cock-up goes unnoticeably out of your hand, you find yourself in a situation painted in all shades of wrong.

or, alternatively: when it’s forbidden, it tastes bittersweet.

a/n: please, before you read this: take the warnings seriously. this is not a light read, it touches some heavy and quite controversial topics. tit also involves a scene where a person in charge exhibits inappropriate behavior towards their subordinate which I do not condone, however it’s all done with consent.

ps. im really proud of this work so give me some love please:(

Fingertips typing furiously on the keyboards, sights focused on the computers’ screens, brows furrowed, minds utterly concentrated and all of this accompanied by angelic voices of various religious songs playing in the background.

This is how a typical day at Sunday’s Spirit editorial department goes by.

The newspaper is a local source of information for the catholic community not only in the city of Busan, but in the whole country. Its history starts in 70s, when Park Min-Sung with his wife started publishing the very first version of the Sunday’s Spirit, selling copies in front of churches. Young activists definitely hadn’t anticipated such a big success, especially due to hard times of the military dictatorship in Korea, but two decades later they have become one of the most affluent families in Busan. The newspaper remains the Park’s legacy till these days, being owned by Min-Sung’s son, with the original founder’s grandson Jimin as an editor-in-chief.

Sometimes you ponder how did you end up in this kind of situation. Sitting at your desk with eyes glued to the screen, working for the catholic newspaper with Mary did you know and other holy songs playing from the Spotify’s Blessed Hits playlist.

First of all, you aren’t quite a Jesus stan yourself. Not a regular churchgoer, Bible reader or a person who lives according to God’s will with Ten Commandments written on your heart and soul.

Someone may wonder, what a young, aspiring journalist like you is doing here? Yes, that’s right.

Money is the reason.

The perspectives of wealthy life as a presenter in the national television or a host in the radio were just a mirage, because after receiving your master degree in journalism you realised that, unfortunately, a bright future was bright only in your unreal dreams.

The case was simple. You needed money. Your bank account was literally screaming at you to get your shit together and figure something out before you end up under the bridge. So you started searching for a job, looking over various offers on the Internet for two weeks straight. A waitress? Nah, too clumsy for that. Jewelry seller? Definitely not, since you are a happy owner of a few pairs of earrings from etsy-like online shop that certainly have nothing to do with real gold. You were almost convinced you’re destined to be a sexworker but then you stumbled upon an offer from the Sunday’s Spirit.

It was your chance. A God himself decided to take pity on you.

In that exact moment the genre of the newspaper wasn’t important. The vision of bankruptcy was enough for you to wear knee-length black skirt, white button-up shirt and a pair of high heels you’ve never worn before and go on a job interview with plastered smile on your face, looking delightful like you have just given birth to Jesus Christ in Bethlehem.

All the Hollywood actresses could be put into shame after your Oscar-winning performance you acted out on the interview in front of middle-aged woman in checked jacket that no one wears since 90s. Your enthusiasm and assurance you live good, catholic woman’s life, along with your master degree and motivational letter (you added a quote from The Letter to Philipians at the end of it to spice it up) was enough to be accepted for the position of Ask and you shall find column creator.

The job itself wasn’t complex or tough. The newspaper on its online site has a page where people can create an account and send asks to the author of the column who responds to them. You did something wrong and you aren’t sure it should be considered a sin? Having problems with regular praying on mornings and evenings? Write to us and we will solemnly help you with the God’s blessing, it says.

This is basically how it works. Each week, the said journalist chooses the most interesting questions and answers to make an article to the Sunday’s Spirit’s next publication. Of course, you can’t answer those questions the way you would like. You must do it according to the catholic laws and God’s plan (the True God’s plan, not Drake’s). A woman who interviewed you even gave you a notebook full of already made-up responses and a list of things you definetely mustn’t write if you still want to be employed.

To be completely frank, you don’t hate your job that much. You actually feel kind of nice, helping other people with their problems. You’ve been doing this for six months now and during this period of time you got used to some things.

A ‘Jesus, I trust you’ framed picture you swore your mother gave you on your 16th birthday standing on your desk. Holy beats blasting through the speakers until you leave the office at 5pm. A big-ass cross hanging right in front of the entrance to the editorial. Lee Chin-sun, the Weekly News column author, rushing to Park Jimin’s bureau every day at different hours in her pencil skirts and high heels knocking on the floor.

There’s only the Pentecost in the middle of the office that could actually surprise you.

“Looks like our Mary Magdalene is going to Jesus cave again,” mutters Kim Taehyung, the newspaper’s main photographer, friend from your desk and, actually, the only friend you have here. Very much gay and just like you, in desperate need for money. “It’s her third visit today. I wonder what it is this time. New prayer to Pope Francis she found?” he whispers and you chuckle at that quietly, looking around if anyone pays attention to your conversation, but everyone seems busy doing their own stuff. “Maybe she’s sucking his dick right now and we all think they are playing Who said it? Bible edition,” he adds in a hushed tone.

You start thinking about it for a while. Is that really possible for someone like Park Jimin, the editor-in-chief of the Sunday’s Spirit to have a sexual relationship with his coworker? The man who has a smaller version of Pietà in his office?

“I mean look at him. I would smash that ass too.”

You roll your eyes at Taehyung words, going back to your previous task but every time you try to concentrate, the face of your boss appears in front of your eyes uncontrollably.

Truth to be told, Park Jimin was a sight.

Blond hair, always perfectly styled and simply parted in the middle, revealing his forehead. Dark, sharp eyes that seem to pierce right through your soul and full, plump lips which could only be described as kissable.

He wears only high fashion brands, wandering through the office in Prada and Tom Ford suits that hugs his sculpted body just right. You think that as for a person who never misses Sunday’s mass, Park Jimin has also nice thighs. And a fine piece of ass, as Taehyung would describe it.

Newest Rolex that costs probably more than you will ever earn in your entire life on his wrist, Mercedes who just got brought out to the international market standing on his parking spot in front of the building, an apartment in the most luxurious area in Busan.

Park Jimin inhales God’s mercy and exhales money.

You spoke to him more explicitly only once, on your first day at work. He greeted you and wished good luck, saying that everything will be fine because you know, God’s good. Since that day, Park Jimin seems out of your reach. You contact him only through email, sending articles for him to check and approve, occasionally receiving some short message from him to improve this and that. He rarely leaves his office during working hours but when he does, it’s either for business meetings outside the editorial or for a lunch at nearby restaurant.

There’s also one, special occasion, every Friday, that’s a sacred time for all the employees. The clock hits 12am and so it begins. The angelic voices stop singing and everybody shifts on their sits.

“Oh, Holy Judas. I almost forgot about my favourite part of the week,” Taehyung sighs, standing up from his desk. And by that, he means-

“Friday’s Bible contemplation lunch break, everyone please gather up at the cafeteria.” Park Jimin’s sweet as honey voice says through the speakers.

You stand up from your chair with reluctance. Taking food with you, you go to the cafeteria, following Taehyung.

That’s actually the next thing you got used to while working at Sunday’s Spirit. Bible contemplation meetings are, as you found out from Taehyung, Jimin’s idea after he became an editor-in-chief almost one year ago. Every Friday all the workers sit together, eat their lunches and listen to Jimin as he reads a certain chapter from the book with true admiration written on their faces. After that, he usually asks some questions holding a discussion among the participants who, unlike you, happily takes part in.

The cafeteria looks rather normal, like any other lunchrooms you see in offices. Painted in bright yellow colors, with a few tables and a typical kitchen set in the back. Except for one thing.

A replica of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper hanging on the wall.

You decided a long time ago that you don’t want to know how much money it cost Jimin to have something like that here.

The newspaper’s workers, almost like the twelve Apostles, sit together by the tables. Lee Chin-sun at the very front, looking completely mesmerized by today’s Park Jimin’s appearance. He’s wearing navy blue suit that Taehyung swears it’s from Hugo Boss. The place next to Chin-sun is always occupied by tall, black-haired guy named Choi Eunwoo, main graphic designer, hopelessly in love with her since his first days at work. Behind them there’s a group from emendation department, with their leader Min Yoongi and other journalists. You always sit with Taehyung at the back, near the kitchen, not necessarily paying attention to what’s happening in the front.

Jimin, as on every Friday, walks to the small podium, designed to look like a pulpit in the church and opens the Bible. But one thing is odd: Jimin ain’t no priest or altar boy himself and he certainly dosen’t look like one, flipping through the pages of what you think it’s New Testament this time.

From your point of view, you could practically see how Chin-sun sighs with content expression on her face, lacing her fingers together on the lap and straightening her back. Eunwoo, on the other hand, shifts uncomfortably on his seat, sending Chin-sun quick glances full of unspoken longing she never acknowledges, to his dismay.

Then, Park Jimin clears his throat and the whole cafeteria goes quiet.

Truth to be told, you never really listen to what he’s reading. This time is no different. You just chew on your avocado sandwich, occasionally taking a sip of coffee. Your boss’ smooth voice reaches your ears faintly but you don’t pay attention to it, focusing on eating and Taehyung’s hushed rumbling instead.

“Look at our Mary Magdalene, she looks like she might burst a nut just by listening to CEO Jesus,” he says, making you peek at the girl.

Mary Magdalene is a nickname that Taehyung made up for Chin-sun when he started working at Sunday’s Spirit, mainly because of her attitude and relationship with Jimin. It’s rather platonic, at least for now. She looks at him with pure admiration on her face and she literally melts everytime he smiles at her. But Chin-sun’s ‘stalking’ isn’t unreasonable. Her father is a well-known philanthropist in Busan. He donates catholic charities, churches and, what’s the most interesting – he has some connections with Jimin’s father, the owner of Sunday’s Spirit.

And here’s the thing: Chin-sun’s hare and hounds definitely have some hidden reason. Maybe the whole marriage thing that has become a gossip in the office is true. Which makes poor Eunwoo’s situation even worse.

“Sometimes I wonder why has he fallen in love with her in first place,” you whisper, pointing at the graphic designer. “He knows he stands no chance against Jimin.”

“What can I say, you can’t help who you fall in love with.” Taehyung muses almost poetically, shrugging his shoulders.

You hum at that, placing your coffee cup on the table and looking around the cafeteria. It seems like Jimin has ended his reading session for today and now he invites everyone to join the discussion about the topic. He flashes Chin-sun a gentle smile and you could swear the girl is biting her lip.

On the corner of your eye you see Taehyung smirking.

“What?” you ask.

Taehyung takes a sip of his coffee lazily (it’s always caramel macchiato), peering at Jimin. “Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if our boss really wants to settle not only with Chin-sun, but anyone in general,” he says languidly.

You furrow your brows. “What makes you think that? I mean, look at him. He probably waits with sex till marriage.” you snort.

Taehyung chuckles at your words. “Ah, sweetheart, you really know nothing about Park Jimin.”

“What do you mean?”

He moves closer to you, leaning towards your ear. “What I mean,” he whispers, “is that Park Jimin isn’t such a prude everyone thinks he is. At least he didn’t use to be.”

You raise your eyebrows at him with disbelief. “What? He’s secretly gay?” you mock.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I wish, but no, he isn’t,” he answers with a sigh. “Do you know Min Yoongi from emendation team?” he then asks, pointing at grey-haired man with feline eyes sitting behind Chin-sun.

You nodd your head. Min Yoongi is a hard to read guy. Always suspiciously silent, practically never leaves his office. Something makes you wonder how did Taehyung end up befriending him enough to casually gossip about the boss. You will ask him about this on another occasion.

“So here’s the thing,” Taehyung begins, lowering the volume of his voice. “He used to study at the same university in Seoul with Jimin. They even had been together in the fraternity. Yoongi-hyung told me some juicy details about our boss’ life back then.”

You frown at his words. “And you are telling me this now?!” you hiss.

“I found out literally two days ago!” Taehyung exclaims, maybe a little too loud, so you quickly place your index finger on your lips, shushing him.

“Fine. Continue.” you whisper, looking around to see if anyone pays attention to you.

“Well, Park Jimin used to be a trouble back then. A golden boy of his family in Busan, but a campus fuckboy and obnoxious heartbreaker in Seoul. He smoked cigarettes, drank enormous amounts of alcohol, got wasted on every weekend, missed classes and changed hair colors as often as his girlfriends. By the way, don’t you think he would slay pink hair?”

“Taehyung can you please–”

“Okay, okay. Enough thirsting over Jimesus. So, as you can see, there was no place for Sunday’s mass and Bible contemplation meetings in his life. And here’s the awaited plotwist. His parents somehow found out his son wasn’t living good catholic life on his studies and got extremely pissed off. They simply gave him an ultimatum: if he doesn’t stop his shenanigans, they will cut him off their money and they won’t make him Sunday’s Spirit heir.” Taehyung stops his rumbling for a while, letting you proceed all the bewildering informations about your dear boss he has just revealed.

Your eyes simply widen at the revelations.

Park Jimin, the man who organises Bible contemplation lunch breaks, a regular churchgoer, someone who you always thought has a cross tattooed on his back, was a playboy who slept with a half of the female community in the university?

Interesting.

“Rest of the story is simple. He changed his behavior, got a master degree in journalism and came back to Busan to work here. What is funny, his first position was the same as yours now,” Taehyung ends his story with a light chuckle. “Now you understand why it’s hard for me to believe he really thinks about getting married and having at least three kids.”

You look up at Park Jimin, who’s standing now in the centre of the cafeteria, with his arms crossed over his chest, nodding at one of the journalists words. His gaze is so intense and filled with such an authority that makes you understand why Chin-sun literally squirms when he looks at her that way.

It’s not hard for you to imagine him in much different surroundings.

Him, standing with a cup of beer in his hand in the middle of the crowd of drunken people at some frat party. There’s a leather jacket on his shoulders and he’s wearing tight-fitting pants that hugs his gorgeous thighs much better than his usual slacks he puts on every day before he sets off to work. He scans the room with a mishevious smirk dancing on his features, biting and licking his lips as he looks for his prey for tonight.

He then spots her, his pick for the night. He runs his fingers through his silky locks and approaches the girl, whispering dirty promises to her ear as he sways their bodies to the rhythm of loud music blasting through the speakers. Later that night he has her underneath him, begging him to touch her. He fucks her hard, leaving bruises all over her limp, exhausted body. There will be soreness between her thighs in the morning and a few violet love bites on her neck, a gentle reminder that all of this wasn’t just a dream.

But there’s no warm body next to her she could wake up to, no ‘good morning, baby’ or a second round of love making between the sheets. Because Park Jimin isn’t like that. He waited until her breath slowed down and eyelids fluttered shut, drifting her off to sleep. He left in the middle of the night, a cigarette caught between his swollen from kisses lips. He fumed the poison and smiled to himself, wondering what his parents would think when they found out. A golden boy of his family, future heir of the Park’s legacy, coming back from one of his sexcapeds with girl which name he didn’t even remember.

The Lord himself must have already cursed him and he’s currently planning the punishments for him in depths of Hell. But does Park Jimin look like he really care?

You stare blankly ahead, imagining those scenes in your head. You can’t help but squeeze your thighs because God, yes, Park Jimin is hot, even if he reads Breviary before he goes to sleep. What a shame he has changed.

A smooth like honey voice pulls you out from your airy-fairy slumber.

“Miss Y/N?”

You jolt in panic after hearing your name, glancing around and praying that wasn’t the person you think it was. But this silky, melodious voice you would recognize everywhere.

God hates you though, he knows what kind of scandalous things you were daydreaming about and now it’s his time to punish you.

Looking up, your gaze settles on no one other than Park Jimin, who stares at you with his left eyebrow raised, pursing his lips. He extinguishes the aura of pure dominance around him and you involuntarily blush, squirming under his intense glare. You’re royally screwed.

You clear your throat, trying to calm down rapidly beating heart. Without success.

“Yes, sir?” you manage to answer innocently. Certainly not like you weren’t thinking about being fucked by him minutes ago. You don’t even have time to be surprised he remembers your name.

Park Jimin looks unamazed by your sweet tone; he almost seems bored, but definitely irritated. “I asked you a question and I’m waiting for your response.” he says lowly.

Fuckfuckfuck. God have mercy on you. What was the question? Shit, you don’t even know what fragment he had read before.

In act of complete desperation you elbow Taehyung for help but this little shit pretends he has no idea what’s going on, looking at The Last Supper with sudden interest.

You are purely, loyally, utterly fucked.

You adopt the most charming smile you could muster, knowing that it will have zero affect on Park Jimin and ask, “Could you repeat the question one more time, sir? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you correctly.” Jesus, when has your voice become so high-pitched?

A cruel smirks forms on Park Jimin’s lips. He shakes his head, tsking. Taehyung mutters something under his breath that sounds dangerously close to “It was nice meeting you, sweetheart.” You gulp, waiting for your sentence and hoping Pontius Pilate will be gracious to you.

“My, my,” Jimin muses. It makes you feel like a little girl being scolded by the teacher due to her outrageous behavior. You bite your lip so hard you might draw blood, waiting for your boss’ next words. “Of course you didn’t hear my question, because you weren’t paying attention to our discussion.”

In the corner of your eye you see Chin-sun shaking her head with detestation. What a bitch, you think to yourself.

You take a deep breath then, nails digging crescent moons on the skin of your palms. You don’t like being in the spotlight, you never did, but now you have no choice but face the consequences. “My deepest apologies, sir. The behavior I exhibited was highly inappropriate,” you say, bowing your head. Jimin eyes your figure from head to toe and you might actually feel his burning gaze on your skin. Your cheeks flush in crimson even more.

The editor-in-chief seems to deliberate with himself for a while, turning his head slightly to the side, not breaking the eye contact with you. Finally, after a moment that seems to last an hour, he speaks.

“I think you need a lesson that will teach you to pay attention to our weekly discussions, miss Y/N. That’s why I want you to write a 4000 words long paper about the role of Mary Magdalene in Jesus Christ’s life which we had discussed today but you, unfortunately, didn’t acknowledge it.”

You freeze. Like a scene in the movie, everything stops. The embarassement you felt earlier is quickly replaced by pure anger and irritation. He wants you to write a fucking paper? What is this? University lectures?

Never before in your entire life have you felt so humiliated. All eyes are on you; you could practically sense how they are trying not to laugh out loud. Eunwoo and Taehyung look at you with apologetic faces while Chin-sun smirks, whispering something to Jimin’s ear.

“I apologize once again, sir,” you grit through your teeth with a forced smile. Jimin nods then, not even bothering to look at you again. You’re dismissed, that’s what his behavior is saying.

“Our meeting is over, you can go back to your work.” Jimin announces and walks away from the cafeteria with Chin-sun by his side.

You wait for everyone to leave and the you let out a groan of annoyance, burring your head in your hands.

“Hey, it could have been worse. He didn’t fire you after all.” Taehyung laughs but he quickly shuts up as soon as he sees your glare. You stand up from your chair with a scowl written all over your face, and storm out of the lunchroom.

And may the God help you.

Later that unfortunate day, you sit by your desk again, scrolling through the Ask and you shall find page absentmindedly and waiting for the new asks to come. Everyone has returned to their work like nothing has happened but it doesn’t stop you from feeling all those eyes constantly on your back. Maybe you weren’t fired but the humiliation and embarrassment of being told off by your boss publicly makes you want to disappear and never show up at the editorial again.

“Y/N,” Taehyung’s deep voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up at him and find the man smiling at you lightly. He’s wearing a long, camel coat and a big scarf around his neck with ridiculous patterns that reminds you of Persian diwans. He places his black camera bag on the desk, which means he’s leaving the office. “I’m free of office work for today so I just wanted to say goodbye.” he explains and you just nod.

“Bye, Taehyung. See you on Monday.” you say maybe a little bit to wryly and he feels that, letting out a long sigh.

Taehyung seems to deliberate with himself for a moment before he decides to speak again. He clears his throat audibly. “And I, uhm, I’m sorry. It’s my fault that you are in this situation. I started this conversation and I should be the one writing this stupid paper for Mister Prude.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the new nickname Taehyung gave Jimin. The anger you felt before drifts away from you slowly, and you smile at your friend apologetically. “Oh, God, Tae. I’m such a bitch sometimes, sorry,” you blurt out.”I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at him. Besides, maybe that’s good I’ve got homework. I don’t remember when was the last time I wrote some-”

Your words are interrupted by a loud laugh that resonates through the office. You look in the direction of the voice just to see Chin-sun with her manicured hand on Jimin’s chest, throwing her head back from the laughter, too dramatically for your taste. She seems to have changed her clothes, a black pencil skirt long forgotten and replaced by a red, bodycon dress. Her dark hair is also styled differently, curled and loose. She looks beautiful, matching Jimin’s appearance perfectly.

“Where are they going?” Taehyung whispers to you, furrowing his brows. You shrug your shoulders, tearing your eyes of Chin-sun and Jimin. “Maybe our Mary Magdalene’s plan to win Jesus’ heart is working. Poor Eunwoo,” he sighs, looking at his watch to check the time. “Anyway, I gotta go. I have to drive all the way to some shithole near the city to take photos of an old lady who swears she saw saint Francis or other dude with halo speaking to her,” he grumbles and you giggle at his words. “Good luck with your paper, sweetheart.” he leans and places a small peck on your cheek.

“Bye, Tae.” you say, watching him leave the office right after Jimin and Chin-sun.

You let out a long, tired sigh, counting the time to leave the office and finally be back home, with a bottle of red wine and new season of Game of Thrones that are waiting for you to watch the whole week. Then, when you’re about to stand up and make yourself another coffee, a new ask pops up in your inbox with the title ‘Sex S.O.S’.

You raise your eyebrows because honestly, what kind of title is this? Curiosity wins the battle with a hot cup of an americano and you click the show more button. You put on your prescription glasses and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyfriend. And here’s where the actual problem begins. I’m from the catholic family with long traditions, and as you can guess, he isn’t.

We’ve been together for almost 2 years now and since my parents don’t want me to live with him before the marriage, there’s also no sexual life between us. I was actually surprised they agreed I can date a non-religious person in first place, so the rules weren’t that horrible at the beginning.

My boyfriend always seemed to be understanding about the fact that I’m catholic and he has never had issues against it because I stated this on the start of our relationship, but lately… he’s been distant. We meet up less often and I feel like simple kissing after 2 years isn’t enough for him. I even thought about initiating something that wouldn’t necessarily involve the real intercourse but I’m too inexperienced and shy for that. We are slowly drifting apart.

I don’t know what to do. I love him so much and I don’t want to lose him just because of some stupid rules I need to follow. I’m scared he will leave me for some other beautiful girl who wouldn’t have anything against sleeping with him, especially after considering the fact that he isn’t virgin unlike me and he experienced this kind of pleasure before.

I hope you will help me.

Yours faithfully,

Kang Seoyeon.

You blink once, twice. Read the message again and then, something snaps in you.

To Hell with these stupid, old-fashioned rules straight from the Middle Ages. To Hell with celibacy till marriage, masturbation prohibition and living according to God’s will. To Hell with Park Jimin and his ridiculous moral code (and his Bible contemplation lunchbreaks).

Unofficial eleventh commandment: If a girl wants a dick, she deserves to have it.

And that’s exactly what your response to the girl is in a nutshell.

Your blood boils in your veins with anger as you’re typing furiously on the keyboard, not even bothering to check if your sudden outburst makes any sense.

Dear Seoyeon,

It’s Y/N here, the journalist who you wrote this message to.

I don’t know what kind of response are you expecting from me but honestly? If you think I’m going to recommend you some praying to Saint Rita then you’re wrong. I’m done with this shit.

Let me make this straight: if you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy.

They are plenty of worse things in this world than having sex with the person you love. Look at me. I’m literally writing to catholic newspaper while using words like ‘God’ and ‘Fuck’ in the same sentence. And that’s not even a small piece of what I’ve done in my life.

So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this. You have my blessings and Jesus is giving you metaphysical thumbs up from above. Sex is amazing thing and you don’t have to wait for it until you say ‘yes’ in front of some guy in black cassock. Just go with the flow.

May the God help you!

Love, Y/N.

P.S. Watch out that guy. He seems suspicious. If he’s been really sex deprived for two years he will die after you give him a head.

Sent.

You exhale loudly, staring at the screen. You did that. Six months into working in Sunday’s Spirit and the time when you lost your temper has finally come. You should probably feel ashamed or have some type of conscience pangs but actually you aren’t even near this state.

Grinning to yourself, you delete the message you had sent to the girl from your inbox and check the time. It’s almost 5pm and it looks like you haven’t even realised you’re the only person at the office right now. Since it’s Friday and Jimin has already left, seems like everyone has decided to set off earlier too.

You turn off your computer, packing your things to the bag. Wrapping a scarf around your neck tightly, you leave the building, welcoming the coolness of the early Spring evening in Busan.

When you’re about to cross the street, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your coat. You stop for a moment, smiling to yourself when you read the message.

[04:23pm] from Tae: hey

[04:23pm] from Tae: i know you are probably planning an evening with mary magdalene n jesus but

[04:23pm] from Tae: wouldnt u want to go for drinks with me tonight?

[04:23pm] from Tae: same place as usual

[04:24pm] from Tae: as a wise man once said: nothing helps better for the writer’s block than vodka

[04:24pm] from Tae: so what do u say?

You don’t need to think twice when you quickly type a response. Game of Thrones and wine can wait till another time.

[04:26pm] from me: how could i say no to kim taehyung and vodka?

[04:26pm] from me: see u there

Kim’s is a place like no one other in Busan.

You wouldn’t even know about its existence if it wasn’t Taehyung who took you there first when you started working at Sunday’s Spirit, solemnly promising free drinks. Who would you be if you didn’t agree to that?

When you arrived at the bar, it eventually turned out the alcohol was costless hence it’s his family business since over thirty years and his brother Namjoon is a bartender, not because Taehyung willingly decided to pay for you.

Kim’s is located in rather industrial part of the city, sandwiched between factories and huge housing estates, not looking really inviting at first glance, but the place has its own, unique charm. There are some stories, shrouding the building’s history in mystery. Some people say it used to be headquarters of the most dangerous mafia in Busan, some even believe it served as the secret arsenal during the Korean War.

But what’s definitely true, it’s the fact that Taehyung’s parents bought this place in swinging times of 80s for a small amount of money and turned the place into disco bar which had become a must-go spot for young people in Busan.

Kim’s on the outside, with its large red neon sign hanging above the entrance, looks more like a night club than a bar, but on the inside the magic of kitschy 80s still remains the same (Taehyung swears retro is in fashion these days and that’s why he didn’t let his parents redecorate when they wanted to).

You always feel like you’re traveling back in time when you visist Kim’s.

The place is quite big, with a large dancefloor in the middle and red leather sofas strewn around the place along with the tables. Walls are made of brick and colorful, vibrant neon lights are shimmering on them. Oh, not to mention the huge disco ball on the ceiling. Everything accompanied with the quality music provided by Namjoon.

There are few billiard and foosball tables in the corner of the bar, always occupied by the same group of middle-aged men on weekdays and university students on weekends. But the thing that attract attention of the customers the most, is the bar with Namjoon behind it.

When you enter the place, you spot Taehyung and his blond mop of hair immediately. He sits on one of the bar stools, talking to his older brother. He’s wearing beige pants and floral button-up shirt that seems to match colors with his pinkish-looking drink he holds. You notice a new pair of sapphire earrings and a huge ring from the same collection on his forefinger. Classy, as always.

Taehyung grins broadly when he sees you. He puts his drink on the counter and stands up to greet you. His breath smells like strawberries and vodka when he leans to place his usual, small peck on your cheek. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says with his signature smirk plastered on his face, scanning your figure. “You look gorgeous. Last time you did this kind of make-up you wanted to get laid.”

You rolls your eyes at his words, sitting on a stool next to him. “Hi, Taehyung. Thank you for appreciating my efforts to look like a decent human being but no, I’m not planning on getting laid tonight.” you answer, waving to Namjoon who makes drinks for a group of girls a few meters from you. He smiles bashfully at you, showing his dimples.

“I’m not saying you want a fuck, calm down. I just assumed since it’s not everyday that you put eyeliner on,” Taehyung explains himself. “So let me do that again,” He takes a deep breath, placing a hand on his chest in a dramatic manner. “Y/N, you look absolutely breathtaking. I could stare at you for hours and I wouldn’t mind that even a bit. My homosexuality is at risk right now.”

You ignore his exeggarated outburst, rolling your eyes. “I’m not using eyeliner everyday because there’s something called dresscode in our work, you know?” you say. “Besides, my mum says you should look good on every occasion because you don’t know when you will meet the love of your life.”

Taehyung puts a hand on his heart and sighs with relief. “Thank God I always look good.”

You chuckle and then your eyes wander for a moment to Namjoon, who seems busy listening to whatever the pink-haired girl is telling him with polite smile on his face.

“Here,” Taehyung nudges your side, bringing your attention back to him. He hands you the same pinkish drink as he was drinking when you arrived. “Hyung told me it’s their new specialty or something. It’s called Flamingo’s Beach,” he says and you take the glass in your hand. “I have no idea what Namjoonie-hyung put here but as long as it looks good, it’s good. Cheers!” Taehyung sips his one and watches you with raised eyebrows as you’re taking a generous gulp of the drink. “And…?” he asks.

You lick your lips, humming to yourself. “Not bad. Tastes like strawberries.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to say something but he gets interrupted by his brother. “Y/N, hi. How are you?” Namjoon approaches you with two beer mugs in his hands.

His hair is back to his natural brown color now, purple strands long forgotten since the last time you saw him. It looks like he’s been working out lately, his posture more bulky and it makes his black shirt stick to his body tightly. Namjoon’s good-looking, you always knew that, but he seems to be even more handsome now.

“Hey, I’ve been good, thank you,” you greet him with maybe too much enthusiasm for your liking. You always had a weak spot for him. “How’s the bar going?” you ask.

“Busy, as you can see,” he replies, chuckling to himself. “I would love to talk to you more but I have some work to do in back room, so…” Namjoon trails off sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

“Oh, it’s okay. We can catch up another time.” You smile at him and you could swear his cheeks flushed.

“I’ll be going. See you.” Namjoon stammers out, not even waiting for your response before he disappears from your sight.

The pregnant silence sets in between you and Taehyung, something heavy hangs in the air and you feel it, tapping your fingers on the counter to the rhythm of one of the ABBA songs, waiting impatiently.

Taehyung looks like he’s debating with himself in his head. You narrow your eyes. He’s adopted a face you know pretty well, too well even. He looks everywhere but keep avoiding your gaze. He wants to ask you something, you’re sure of it, but he doesn’t know how.

Finally, after a moment of awkward quietness, Taehyung finally opens his mouth. “So, here’s the thing,” he starts and you wait for the bomb to drop.

Last time when he approached you like that, he asked you if you would be down for a threesome with him and some guy he met on Tinder. Your eyes almost popped out of your head when you heard his blunt proposition. You were eating lunch at cafeteria and the words casually slipped from between his lips as he chewed on his egg sandwich, like he didn’t just propose you having sex with him and instead asked for a lift to home after work.

Taehyung begged you for a whole week, pleading and convincing it’ll be fun. When you eventually agreed (sex draught make people do stupid things), the other guy didn’t show up. You ended up drinking tequila shots with Taehyung that night in his apartment, and you can’t quite recall how it happened, but somehow you found yourself unzipping your friend’s pants and the rest is history. He passed out right after he came. Now when you think about it, you feel a sudden urge to ask him if he remembers that.

You will do it next time, you promise yourself.

Taehyung though doesn’t ask you about having a threesome or robbing Park Jimin’s house this time. His intentions are pretty much different.

“See, Namjoon split up with his girlfriend few weeks ago,” he says and you prick your ears. “He’s not in good condition right now, as you can see. It was a nasty break up, he found out she’s been cheating on him,” He lets out a long sigh. You bite your lip, imagining Namjoon’s disappointed face when he discovered the truth. What a bitch cheats on someone like him? “So, I thought maybe you could… cheer him up a little bit?” Taehyung ends hesitantly, with a glint of hope in his eyes.

You frown. Cheer him up? Did he just imply what you think about?

“Look, I get it, he’s sad and angry, but what the fuck, Taehyung? What do you want me to do? Do you want me to be his rebound? Make him forget?” you exclaim. Taehyung quickly shakes his head but you don’t let him say anything. “I feel sorry for Namjoon but I’m not going to take advantage of him when he’s literally still hurt.”

“No, it’s not like that!” Taehyung rushes to explain. “Well, maybe it sounded like that but I swear, I didn’t mean that!”

“Then what should I do? Wipe his tears? Tell him a joke? Or maybe-”

“Of course he wants you to suck his brother’s heartbroken dick, doll.”

A sudden, low voice interrupts your conversation. Your eyes follow the direction when it comes from, looking to Taehyung’s left where not even a meter away a very familiar grey-haired man with feline eyes sits.

“Min Yoongi,” you say matter-of-factly.

The leader of emendation team from Sunday’s Spirit editorial raises his hand in which he holds whiskey, greeting you and Taehyung. “Hello, doll. Hello, Taehyung,” he says, not even bothering to look at you.

You elbow Taehyung searching for explanation but he shrugs his shoulders, turning to face the man as well.

“First of all, since when do you call me ‘doll’? We have never spoken a word to each other. Secondly, how long have you been sitting here and listening?” you ask Yoongi.

He snorts, smirking. “Long enough to know how Taehyung comforts his brother after break up.” he simply answers and Taehyung’s cheeks blush in crimson at his words.

“You come here often? I’ve never seen you here before,” you continue, crossing your arms over chest.

Next to you Taehyung lets out a sigh. “Yes, he does. Albeit I haven’t seen him for a while here,” You look at him in confusion. “Yoongi-hyung is Namjoonie-hyung close friend from university days.” he clarifies.

You raise your eyebrows at that. “So Namjoon went to the same school as Park Jimin?”

“Not the same. We met under different circumstances.” Yoongi cuts in.

“They’ve been together in underground rap group, or some shit. Didn’t like each other at first but eventually stuck together till the end of studies.” Taehyung ends and grey-haired man nods.

You can’t help but chuckle at that.

“What’s funny in that?” Yoongi scowls.

“Nothing. I just imagined you and Namjoon in snapbacks, rapping about the unfairness of social hierarchy,” you say, grinning at him.

“Well, you may believe me or not, but we even made a mixtape.” Yoongi reveals proudly, taking a sip of his whiskey.

Your eyes widen in curiosity. “Then what happened? Why aren’t you in Seoul now, still producing music? Why do you work in this stupid newspaper and Namjoon’s a bartender?” you ask interrogatively.

“Life happened, doll. We didn’t have enough money to publish our works so we decided to quit it.”

“Oh,” you breathe out.

You could see the nostalgia written across Yoongi’s face. You feel sorry for him, for Namjoon. Everything is always about the money. That’s why you’re working in Sunday’s Spirit even though it was never your dream in first place. Even though you have much higher ambitions than being Ask and you shall find column author.

Ever since you were little, you loved writing. You never complained, not even once, when your teachers in school assigned you to write something. They kept saying you have an extraordinary talent and it would be a shame if you didn’t do anything with that.

During your high school years, you were the leader of school newspaper’s team, still writing your own works every time you didn’t have something different to do. After that, you got to the university in Seoul, your another dream came true. You got a master degree, an apprenticeship in the Korean version of highly popular, world-widely known magazine. And then, nothing. No job applications available. No newspapers or publishing companies wanting you, dismissing you right away because they didn’t have any vacant places.

This is how Sunday’s Spirit, even if that’s not your dream job, happened. And quite literally saved your ass.

“I’m sorry.” you say after a while.

Yoongi smiles but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t be. What’s in past, stays in past.” he ends the conversation, drinking the rest of his whiskey.

You find this as a perfect possibility to do what you’ve come here for: get wasted, forget about this prick Park Jimin and his stupid assignment. You turn around on your stool to face the bar again, calling for the red-haired bartender named Hoseok who’s substituting Namjoon right now. You order a round of tequilla shots and quickly pours two of them in one go.

“Easy, tiger,” Taehyung teases, still sipping his pink drink as you wipe your chin with the back of your hand. Taehyung has stated a long time ago that he enjoys only casual drinking, which makes you and you lightweightness snort at him.

“Loser,” you mumble under your breath, deep down knowing you’re oh so much going to regret this after.

You focus your attention on the dancefloor now; technicolor lights glittering as the crowd of sweaty people bounce to old Madonna hits. You feel like your spirit might actually experience new kind of awakening during the chorus in Like a Virgin. You mouth the lyrics, the vodka already half-way to your bopping head. Your drunken self almost asks Taehyung and Yoongi if they would agree to be your backup dancers.

You eyes scan the room carefully and then, you spot him. He’s sitting in the corner, his arms splayed over the backrest of the red couch. A devil himself. A black horseman of the Apocalypse. A man who looks like every girl’s next mistake. Taylor Swift’s ‘we are never ever getting back together’.

A true sin.

Jet-black hair parted in the middle, onyx eyes and lucious smirk written across his lips as he bites them purposefully. He’s wearing a leather jacket and you wonder for a while if you would find inked tattoos on his body. He cocks his head to the side, his eyes glued to the same spot as he waits for something, or rather someone.

“Who’s that?” you ask, not even hiding your curiosity at this point.

Taehyung turns around as well, his eyes glancing to the dark-haired man briefly. “Ah, this, sweetheart, is Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin’s best friend.” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You raise your eyebrows, watching as Jungkook’s face expression immediately changes when waitress approaches him. He says something to her that makes her roll her eyes. She tightens her grip around the tray she’s holding, asking him for his order.

“Don’t worry. You are not the only one thirsting over him. I would let him top me too,” Taehyung whispers to your ear and you flinch.

“I’m not thirsting over him! I came her for drinks, not to get laid, I told you.”

“Okay, okay, loosen up a little. Tequilla makes you aggressive. Besides, it looks like he’s got his pick for tonight.”

Jungkook stretches out his hand and fixes the waitress’ glasses that seem to rode down her nose a little. The girl frozes in place because of his action and he grins, calling her cute.

“He’s trying to ask her out for two months,” Yoongi interrupts suddenly, again. It looks like he has nothing better to do tonight. “I’m serious. He’s here every Friday. Normally, he would have given up after the second time she had rejected him but there’s might be something in this girl that makes his dick hard and his heart soft.”

Jungkook’s eyes girl’s body as she bends to pick up the glasses from other tables and maybe that’s the alcohol swimming in your veins but you could swear his face lights up when she sends him another irritated glare when he calls her name.

“Does Park Jimin comes here often as well?” you ask before you could stop yourself.

Both Taehyung and Yoongi shake their heads.

“I don’t think so. Jeon comes here because he lives nearby in this huge ass apartment complex. His father runs a chemical factory and he works there.” Taehyung explains.

Jeon? Chemical factory? Something clicks in your brain. Right, you know who his father is. The King of Washing Powder. Another rich as fuck Busan’s snob.

“God, I hate him. I fucking hate him. What a prick. Douchebag. Asshole of the century,” The string of profanities leaves poor waitress’ mouth as she walks to the counter with tray in her hands. “How’s your day, love? You look beautiful today, love. Fucking leave me alone, love!” she mutters to herself, taking the beer mugs from Hoseok abruptly which makes the bartender raise his eyebrows in confusion.

“How’s your assignment about Mary Magdalene going on, doll?” Yoongi asks then, startling you.

You roll your eyes at him. “I literally got it today, Yoongi. I haven’t started yet.” you answer, gulping another shot.

On the corner of your eye you see Yoongi’s smirking. “I’m surprised, to be honest. You aren’t the only one who doesn’t pay attention to shit Jimin’s says,” he trails off. “I work for him from the moment he started this ridiculous Bible lunch breaks and I swear, he’s never called out someone like that before.”

“What do you mean he’s never called out someone before?” Taehyung joins in curiously.

“Look, I slept through the majority of these sessions and Jimin knows it, but he has never lecture me about it,” Yoongi remarks. “Maybe you’re an exception. Or he’s become more strict because of this bitch Chin-sun.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. You know Chin-sun has been making heart eyes for Jimin for a long time but what why it might have an influence on his behavior?

“Lee Chin-sun? What the office’s Mary Magdalene has to do with that? Besides the fact that she’s drooling for his dick every time she sees him,” Taehyung snorts.

Yoongi chuckles lowly. “Oh, so you two really know nothing about what’s going on between them right now,”

“What’s going on right now? Spill.” Taehyung says abruptly. You sigh when you see the way his eyes flicker with mischeviousness. One thing Taehyung loves more than photography and fashion is gossiping (and dicks).

“First of all, Chin-sun is a fucking bigot. And well… she might be closer to being miss Park than we thought.” Yoongi muses.

Taehyung eyebrows practically disappear in his hairline. You’re sure you mirror his expression right now.

Yoongi asks Hoseok for another glass of whiskey and continues. “My friend Seokjin’s wife is Jimin’s personal assistant and secretary. She heard this and that, quite juicy things I must say,” he says in a lower tone, like he’s revealing government secrets to them. You lean closer into his direction along with Taehyung. “Chin-sun’s father recently bought the claims to the most popular, conservative TV station in whole South Korea. But, what is more interesting, it looks like Park senior has some shares in it as well.”

You’re astonished. You knew there’s something looming in the air but you didn’t expect this. A TV station? Even your slightly drunken brain can calculate it’s very interesting.

“So the marriage between Chin-sun and Jimin would be pretty convenient for their families, especially after considering the fact that Jimin is the heir.” Yoongi adds, gulping the first sip of his new whiskey.

“Poor Eunwoo,” you whisper to yourself.

“But why so soon? Why do they want to legalize their relationship so suddenly?” Taehyung asks.

Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh. “There’s a rumour going around that Jimin’s father isn’t in good condition right now. Seokjin-hyung mentioned something about the heart disease. So, if that’s really true, you have the answer why he wants his eldest son to settle down already. Everything’s about the money, I told you.”

Taehyung whistles. “Woah, so Mary Magdalene is really about to be CEO Jesus’ wife soon!” he exclaims, clapping his hands. “Brilliant. Finally something spicy is happening in this boring editorial.”

“I wouldn’t be so enthusiastic if I were you, Taehyung. This kind of business never ends well,” Yoongi says coldly, placing his glass on the counter and standing up from the stool. He glances at his watch and throws a few bills next to his empty glass. “I’ll get going. It was nice talking to you, doll.”

“What about me?”

“Shut up, Taehyung, you’re not pretty lady.”

“I feel offended.”

“And I don’t care,” Yoongi mutters. Maybe that was alcohol swimming in her veins but you saw Taehyung lifting the corners of his lips in amusement. Weird. “Good luck on your assignment, doll. See you all on Monday.” Yoongi glances to your way one last time, adjusting his jacket.

“Bye, Yoongi.” you wave to him and a small, even sincere smile appears on his face when he as well raises his hand lazily and leaves. “Why didn’t you tell me he’s actually nice, Tae? I was always too scared to start a conversation with him because I felt intimidated.” you say after a while.

“I’m sorry, should have I set you up for a date with him?” Taehyung mocks.

A groan escapes your lips. “Could you please stop insinuating things?”

“You need to get laid, seriously. Like soon-soon. You get easily irritated recently. You need a d i c k,”

“I don’t need a dick!”

“A cock, Y/N,” Taehyung emphasizes. “A penis in your precious vagina.”

“Shut up!”

Several shots and a few drunken dances to Cindi Lauper and Bon Jovi, you’re pretty much wasted. And maybe, just maybe, you need a dick. And Taehyung, like a dipshit he always is, thinks that’s actually funny.

“Don’t wanna homff,” you slur, supporting your weight on Taehyung’s arm that shakes with laughter at your drunken antics, as well as his whole body. “I wanna danfce witfh somebodyyy,”

“Holy Mother of Jesus, you must be really drunk if you started referring to Whitney Houston’s songs. And you smell like booze,” Taehyung mutters under his breath and you whine, tugging on his arm.

“TaeTae, Taehyungie, pffleasee, can we go back?”

Taehyung ignores your grumbling completely. He exists the bar, walking (or rather dragging) you to the cab. As he tries to push your body to the car, he sees in the corner of his eye Jeon Jungkook, standing in front of his black SUV. The waitress from earlier accompanies him as well. It looks like he’s trying to convince her to let him give her a lift to home. The girl shakes her head at first but eventually gives up, stepping into the car. Jungkook grins to himself then, clenching his fists in gesture of pure triumph.

“I fuckin’ hate Park Jimin and his stfupid newspaper,” you mutter incoherently as you bury your head in the crook of Taehyung’s neck in the back of the cab. Old, korean songs are playing in the radio when you’re driving back home. Taehyung smiles to himself, hearing your light snores. But then, he falters.

Ah, yes, he almost forgot. It is going to be a long way to the third floor of your apartment building.

Next day, you wake up in the middle of noon with raging headache and an abrupt need to throw everything up. Frankly speaking, you had worse hangovers during you university days but it doesn’t change the fact that the state you’re currently in still sucks.

“Oh, good God, what have I thought?” you mutter to yourself while standing in the shower, letting the water cool you down.

Truth to be told, a drinking escapade when you have a whole ass paper to write in two days wasn’t the smartest idea you could come up with. You know that for sure, when you’re sitting down in front of your laptop with prescription glasses on your face and a cup of tea in your hand.

There’s a blank document opened on the screen, with only your name written in the corner and the title in the middle. You feel pathetic and useless, staring at it for 30 minutes straight. If you keep sitting like this, you might actually call Park Jimin right now and beg him not to fire you due to your incompetence.

“Get your shit together, Y/N.” you say to yourself, clenching your fists.

At first you fought about making some mind-map, outlining the most important parts of your essay, as you always used to do when you were studying. But there’s a huge difference between what you’re working on right now and what you usually did during academic days. Above all, at that time you were writing about things you had more knowledge about, not about Mary Magdalene and her role in Jesus Christ’s life.

“Ah, fuck it.”

You open an online Bible page and quickly type ‘Mary Magdalene’ in browser. All fragments when she’s mentioned shows up in front of your eyes. You fix your glasses and before you could stop yourself, you whisper, “Let’s get it.”

You don’t know how much time has passed since you started reading, but when you glance a the clock it’s nearly 7pm.

You went through every single page in the Bible when Mary Magdalene appears or when for some reason her name comes up in conversations. You read two thesis in which you found quite interesting facts about the heroine of your work. Also, you watched some conspiracy theories on YouTube about her, in which people claim that she was actually Jesus’ wife. You were bewildered, even in your post-hangover state.

And after all of this researching, you have settled a plan. You’re a journalist for God’s sake, you’ve been writing your entire life and none assignment will break you. So you start typing on the keyboard, filling the blank document pages with words, hoping that Park Jimin will approve your efforts.

On Sunday, you look like a ghost.

You’re a mess, cured from hangover but still in bad shape, especially after spending the whole night writing in front of your laptop. There are bangs under your eyes and you hair looks like you could cosplay a scarecrow. Your eyes are sore from staring to the screen for so long and you feel like you might collapse anytime if you won’t drink coffee in five minutes.

In between writing next paragraphs, you answer a call from Taehyung.

“How’s your assignment going, sweetheart?”

You let out a long, exhausted sigh. “It’s fine, I guess.” you respond to him.

“That’s lovely! I knew you would slay this, babe,” you hear him saying.

“I’m not done yet, Tae. I still have like a half to write,” you mumble and then let out a yawn, closing your eyes for a brief second before you speak again. “I would love to talk to you more but I really need to get this shit done as soon as I can, so I could have some decent sleep before Monday. I don’t want to look like an old witch when I hand in the paper to Park Jimin.”

“I know, I know. You got this, sweetheart. I’m sure you will make Mister Prude’s dick hard because of this.” Taehyung assures you.

You crack a tired smile even though you know he doesn’t see you. “Thank you, Tae.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” he says and hangs up.

You take another gulp of your coffee and start writing again.

It’s a little past midnight when you’re, with your last amounts of force you posses, typing the last words of the paper. As you look at your laptop screen, eyelids half-closed, you dream about nothing but going to sleep.

You did that. You really did. You wrote this stupid paper for Park Jimin and you’re actually proud of it. You carefully save the document three times (to be hundred percent sure) and as soon as you close your laptop, you pass out.

Little did you know what is waiting for you in editorial in a few hours.

You stare at your reflection in small mirror you hold, thanking God that he has enlightened the person who discovered make-up. You won’t say you look stunning but, after five hours of sleep you had in last two days, you would risk it all and say you appear much more than decent looking. You’re wearing your new black jumpsuit that makes your legs look longer and you even used a different shade of lipstick, painting your lips in crimson red.

And all of this for nothing, because when you stormed into the Sunday’s Spirit editorial to give the paper straight to Park Jimin’s hands, his secretary with polite smile said he’s coming to work later today.

You pursued your lips and handed the woman your blood, sweat and tears (you’re actually sure a few tears rolled down from your face on the keyboard while you were writing it), wishing you saw your boss’ face when you place the printed pages on his expensive desk.

“I changed a little bit the topic of my work while I was outlining it,” you tell Taehyung as you both sit together by your desks later that day. “I focused more on a role of Mary Magdalene character in world ruled only by men. I showed how a powerful woman she was, standing at Jesus’s side even though the church for the centuries referred her to whore,” you explain.

“Wow,” Taehyung muses. “You turned Mary Magdalene into feminism icon fighting against patriarchy.”

“It’s not like that!” You hit him in the arm. “You may laugh as much as you want but I actually got into her story.”

Taehyung smirks. “Looks like being scolded by Park Jimin wasn’t that bad.”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I got humiliated in the middle of fucking cafeteria. I still hate him. And also, I don’t know what he thinks about my essay.” you say with a sigh.

“Don’t worry. He’s probably having an epiphany right now while-”

A voice from the speakers that certainly doesn’t sound like gospel choir interrupts him.

“Miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.”

“-or he isn’t.” Taehyung ends.

Once again, you’re frozen in place. It’s okay, you tell yourself, maybe he just wants to talk about my essay. But what if he didn’t like it? What if your sudden feminism outburst about Mary Magdalene was too much?

“Holy fuck.” you blurt out quietly.

Taehyung gives you an encouraging smile but he doesn’t look much convinced in positive intentions of summoning you to their boss’ office, he just doesn’t say it aloud. “Well, maybe it won’t be that bad! Maybe he wants to congratulate you,” he tries to comfort you, without success. You look horribly pale and scared to death.

“I repeat: miss Y/N, please report to the Park Jimin’s office immadietly.” Jimin’s stone cold voice pierce through the silence again. You shiver. The journalists in the editorial send you impatient glares.

“Whatever happens, remember that I love you.” Taehyung whispers, squizzing your hand, which makes you even more nervous. He gives you thumbs-up and you take a deep breath, trying to calm your trembling body. A whole Sunday’s Spirit team follow your movements with their eyes.

You stands from your desk on wobbly legs and walk to the door with golden sign hanging on its surface.

Park Jimin

Editor-in-chief

You take the knob in your shaking palm and twist, stepping into the lion’s den.

The atmosphere seems to shift when you walk into the room. You could hear your heart rapidly beating through the dead silence that lingers in Park Jimin’s office. “You wanted to see me, sir?” you ask after closing the door, subconsciously cursing yourself for sounding so weak already.

“Yes, have a seat,” Jimin says. “Give me a second. I need to finish something.” he adds when you sit down, not even bothering to spare you a look.

Jimin sits behind his desk, eyes glued to the computer screen. His hair is pushed back from his forehead, his jaw clenched. Oh, great, he looks pissed, you think to yourself.

He isn’t wearing his suit jacket like usually, which surprises you. His white shirt’s sleeves are rolled up, revealing a glimpse of veiny hands and his Rolex. This is the first time you see him like this. He looks so… unlike him.

Strange.

You use the time you have to take in your surroundings. Jimin’s office is painted in fair tone of grey. The rumors were actually right, there’s a smaller version of Michelangelo’s Pietà standing proudly on of the drawers. Behind the desk, on the wall, hangs a wooden cross with gold-plated figurine of Jesus Christ, and just underneath it there’s a framed picture of Lady of Fatima, which he once proudly showed to the whole editorial team on one of the lunchbreaks, saying his grandmother brought him this from her pilgrimage.

You focus your attention now on the wall filled with numerous diplomas and certificates, all of them signed with Park Jimin’s name.

You had read some of his works before you started your job in Sunday’s Spirit and you must admit: Park Jimin is a talented, smart journalist you aspire to be one day. It’s actually sad, you think, that he can’t pursue his career, wasting his abilities by working in catholic newspaper owned by his father. And as you know from Yoongi, his situation isn’t going to change soon. Maybe he was right after all. Money really does rule this world.

After a few minutes that seems to last forever, Jimin breaks the silence. “Do you know why are you here?” he asks, finally averting his attention to you. He stares so deeply into your eyes that you feel you might faint from the intensity of his aura.

You clear your throat, and then respond. “I do believe it’s about my paper I handed in to you this morning.”

Jimin raises his eyebrow at that. “Your paper? No, everything’s fine about it. I read it and I must say, you did a great job,” he says and you furrow your eyebrows. So if nothing’s is wrong with your essay then what does he want?

“Then… why did you call me in, sir?” you hesitantly ponder.

Jimin laces his fingers together and leans closer over the desk. “Well,” he begins, “Maybe you forgot or you really didn’t know about it, but I used to run the same column as you do now,” You nod your head, recalling what Taehyung told you recently. Jimin continues, “I was actually the one who created it. That means I am still, for this day, its administrator. Which leads to another conclusion: every single ask that is send to our editorial and your responses to them can be monitored by me.” he explains, gauging your reaction. You still don’t have an idea why is he telling you that, so you just sit still and wait.

Then, Jimin reaches for the paper that lays on the left side of his desk and hands it to you. “Could you please tell me what is this?” he asks, pointing at the paper.

You glance at it briefly. “These are the questions I got last week and my responses to them.” you reply straightaway.

Park Jimin doesn’t seem much satisfied after hearing your words. He then takes another paper and gives it to you as well. “And this particular one, Y/N? Could you please read it and tell me what is this?”

Ignoring his forego of ‘miss’, you take it to your hands and start reading.

Dear Sunday’s Spirit editorial,

My name is Kang Seoyeon. I study medicine at the University of Seoul, I’ve got an amazing group of friends and a loving boyf-

You gasp and immadietly put a palm over your mouth. Under Seoyeon’s ask there’s also, clear as day, your much inappropriate response to her. In which you persuade the girl to suck her boyfriend off.

Holy fuck. Jesus Christ. Shitshitshit!

Jimin said he monitors everything that people send to the editorial along with the responds. Of course he had to read it. Why have you been so dumb? How could you believe that simple deleting from your inbox would be enough? Why can’t you do something properly for once?

You gulp, trying not to cry because good God, he’s going to fire you. He will kick you out and write a bunch of negative letters to your future employees, in which he will explain in details how disobiedent, reckless of a worker you are.

“Did you also forget how to speak?” Jimin asks. You almost cry out right away from the coldness of his voice.

You muster up a courage and look at him, and that’s a huge mistake because as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re lost for words.”I-I don’t know what to say, sir,” you stammer out. “I have nothing for my defence. I can only apologize for my irresponsible and inappropriate behavior I exhibited.” you say, bowing your head down.

Jimin pursues his lips. He stands from his chair and walks to you, leaning his body on the desk. He takes the paper from you to his hands and starts reading. “If you want to fuck your boyfriend, do it. Maybe God wouldn’t approve that but don’t worry, he won’t send you to hell because of some dick in your pussy,“ he quotes your response to the girl and your cheeks flush in red; you wish nothing more than to disappear and never see your boss again. But he’s relentless and continues reading, spilling the crude words, humiliating you even more. “So you go girl, suck your boyfriend off. Make him beg. He will never leave you after this.“ Jimin chuckles to himself darkly and you shut your eyes. “Look at me when you are spoken to,” he demands. You quickly oblige, lifting your chin a little to meet his intense gaze. “Is that really how a good, catholic girl should act?” he asks in a mocking tone.

You shake your head. “No, it isn’t.”

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Do you think he really won’t leave her after this?” he asks out of the blue.

You furrow your eyebrows. What kind of twisted game is he playing now? “I don’t know, sir.” you answer honestly.

Jimin smirks. Devilishly, sultry and completely illegal. He then licks his lips and leans closer to you. You could swear his eyes are darken than before. Something has shifted in his demeanor; he looks daring. “Why don’t you show me then, how this poor girl should suck her boyfriend off, Y/N?” he whispers lowly.

Your eyes widen. Did he just-?

He didn’t. He can’t. Maybe you misheard him, maybe you started imagining things that aren’t real. Oh, sweet Lord, the look of absolute seriousness written on his face tells you very much different.

Park Jimin, your boss, the man who goes regularly on masses and reads Bible, wants you to give him a head. In his office.

May the God help you.

You should probably slap him in the face for his immoral proposition. You should save your dignity, leave and never come back again. But then, you clear your mind from all those twisted thoughts running through it and you realise that you’re walking on a very thin line. Line which is called unemployment and bankruptcy.

You think about your landlord who praised you recently for keeping up with rent every month regularly. You think about your student loans that you still need to pay.

And fuck, you hate Yoongi because he was damn right. Money wouldn’t buy you happiness, but it can provide you that.

That’s why you put away the humiliation, the what ifs. You shut your mind screaming at you and listing the future consequences. Maybe Jimin just tests you, but the way he looks at you denies it. He wants to see you on your knees in front of him. Perhaps he only wants to play before he fires you but you put that thought aside.

You at least need to try.

Jimin searches for any kind of protest in your eyes and when he doesn’t find it, he’s back to his domineering self. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, his voice an octave lower. “Get on your knees.”

He has a calm expression on his face and you wonder for a moment how many times has he been in similar situation before. Having a woman on his mercy and using her the way he likes. And now you know. All those stories you heard about, are actually true. Park Jimin isn’t a prude. He’s dirty.

You fall to the floor with a light whimper. Maybe it’s the last chance for you to leave, but the confidence that emanates from Jimin doesn’t falter your movements. You hate yourself for that but God, you want to see this man being a mess for your touch. Even if that’s fucked up.

And it’s wrong, so, so wrong, when there’s a cross hanging behind you, when he’s your boss who claims to be a good catholic, when you do that because you’re too afraid to lose your job. But in that moment, the morality doesn’t exist.

Jimin stands up to take his belt off, looking at you from the above as he slowly, purposefully pulls it from the belt loops. He doesn’t encourage you or say anything, he just waits. You gulp when he yanks his black slacks down, along with his underwear.

For a few, solid seconds, you just stare.

You aren’t a connoisseur of dicks. Dick is a dick, but Park Jimin’s length is just as perfect as the rest of him, semi-hard against his lower stomach. Your hands move to his sculpted thighs, running up and down, tracing the prominent lines of his toned abdomen. The muscles tense underneath your touch.

You don’t remember when was the last time you’ve gone down on someone. Maybe it was Taehyung few months ago when you were both too drunk to care? You can’t quite recall. Every move of yours is uncertain, but Jimin doesn’t mind. Maybe your uncertainty turns him on even more.

He watches as you take him in your palm hesitantly, hot and already stiff, stroking him several times until he hardens in your hand. The sight is purely erotic, filthy, and you lick your lips before placing a light kiss on his tip. Jimin hisses. That’s a warning. No teasing.

You pump him, trailing a thumb over his slit, spreading precum all over his cock. Jimin doesn’t say anything but from the shuddering breath he lets out you assume he likes it. You take a deep breath, wrapping your lips around his dick and swirling your tongue around the head.

Jimin groans, a guttural sound resonating through his whole body and you take it as a sign to continue. You ease more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head up and down around his length obediently. Some twisted and fucked-up part of you wants him to praise you, call you good girl with your lips around his dick and throbbing core. He does none of that. His hands tangle in your hair as he withdraws, and you know exactly what’s coming next.

It’s an unspoken question on his lips and your jaw falls slacks on command.

A forceful push of his hips and he’s burried deep inside your mouth till he hits the back of your throat. Tears brim in your eyes and you gag, breathing heavily through your nose. It hurts a little, a dull ache but the content sigh and fucked-out expression on Jimin’s face is worth it. So you let him fuck your mouth the way he wants, let him pull your hair harder, wreck you a little more. It’s so easy to submit to him, to let him overwhelm you in every sense possible.

Your eyes fall shut and Jimin stops his movements, pulling from your mouth. Drool dribbles down your chin and you wipe it with the back of your hand. Jimin lets out a shaky breath, staring down at you so intensely it makes your insides tighten, even if you don’t see him yet.

“Look at me,” he rasps and you do, how could you not. The sight of your boss’ flushed cheeks and sweat forming on his forehead will be imprinted in your mind forever.

You curse yourself for wanting him to fuck you senseless right against his deck, with a hand around your throat muffling your screams, fuck you so hard you won’t remember your name anymore, no matter how wrong it is.

“Good girl. You’re so pretty like this, letting me fuck your mouth,” Jimin nothing but purrs, filling you to the brim again, until there are tears forming in your eyes and running down your cheeks, until he hits the base of your throat again and again and you fight back choked gags every time. “Just like that, fuck-” he moans, lowly and beautifully, head thrown back and mouth parted.

He’s close, you could feel that, so you take him deep once again and when your throat tightens around him one last time, he lets out a gutural groan and comes. You swallow every drop of his bitter release and when he pulls out from your mouth, you nearly fall forward.

Jimin catches you, placing his hands on your shoulders, balancing your exhausted body. You look at him through your half-lidded eyes. He looks so young now, so innocent, his cold demeanor’s gone and replaced by pure bliss written on his face. For Park Jimin, cheeks rosy, disheveled hair and loosen tie, you would do it all over again.

He then does something unexpected. He reaches for your face, brushing your tangled hair away and placing the strands behind your ears. This is a loving gesture, something exclusive he definitely shouldn’t be doing. You’re frozen, you can’t move a muscle while he wipes your cheeks from the reminiscences of your tears. He trails his thumb over your swollen lips absentmindedly, faltering there. For a moment he looks like he might say something, but he quickly shuts his mouth, regaining his previous posture.

You take this as a sign to leave. You get up from the floor, your knees sore from the uncomfortable position you’ve been in. You walk to the mirror that hangs on the wall of Jimin’s office. You sigh, seeing your current state. There’s no way someone would believe you that you haven’t just sucked a dick.

Your cheeks are flushed in pink, there are smudges of mascara under your eyes and your lipstick is smeared in the corners of your mouth. Not to mention your hair is still a mess.

You are painted in all shades of wrong.

In the reflection of the mirror you see Jimin buckling up his belt and straightening his tie. He runs a hand through his blond locks and looks up, catching you staring at him. You quickly look away.

“Don’t worry. No one will notice anything. Everyone should be off for their lunchbreaks by now.” he says. He sounds so pathetically normal, yet there’s still a slight rasp in his voice.

You glance at the watch on your hand and check the time. It’s a little past 12. You brush your hair with your fingers quickly and proceed to leave, but you stop, remembering you have to ask about one last thing. You turn around to face him.

“Are you going to write a bad opinion about me to my future employees?” you ask, flinching at the hoarseness of your voice.

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Bad opinion? No, absolutely not,” he answers, shaking his head. “I was never going to fire you in first place.”

You fight back the shocked expression that threatens to appear on your face. You quickly rush to leave this damn office and never look in his eyes ever again. What were you even thinking?

“And Y/N,” Jimin’s voice makes you stop with your hand hovering over the door knob. Single tear rolls down your cheek and you gulp. “I’m sorry.” it’s all he says.

You don’t ask him what he meant by that. You don’t deliberate if he was sincere or not. You leave the office as soon as you can, running to the nearest bathroom, closing the door behind you and leaning on it.

He wasn’t going to fire you. He just wanted to use you, demand to get down on your knees and please him the way he wants. It was all a game for him, and you became his plaything.

“I’m so stupid,” you mutter to yourself, burying your head in your hands. “God, I’m so stupid.”

You feel sick, used, but at the same time you can’t get away with creeping feeling that you enjoyed it, wishing he wanted you just as much as you wanted him in that moment.

You sigh, closing your eyes. You’re probably foolish for thinking it won’t have any consequences. You’re just about to face them.

The coldness of early Spring hits you when you exit Sunday’s Spirit editorial. You hug your body tighter with your coat, standing in front of the building awkwardly. You take a few deep breaths, trying to clear your mind, but nothing really works. There’s a vacant space inside your body, like your soul has drifted away and left nothing but emptiness.

You feel hollow.

You don’t know how long have you been standing there, inhaling fresh air and waiting for your blood to start circulating properly in your veins again. When you’re about to head to the underground station, on the corner of your eye you see Jimin’s black Mercedes. You probably shouldn’t stare but you helplessly do.

Probably if you didn’t, it would hurt less.

He approaches the car, looking perfectly fine as always, which you couldn’t say about yourself. And he isn’t alone.

You recognize dark curls of Chins-sun’s hair, contrasting her beige coat beautifully. The corners of Jimin’s lips lift when he sees her. You don’t know if it’s a honest smile or a forced one. You wonder for a while how does he look like when he’s truly happy. Maybe he’s happy now, when Chin-sun is by his side.

What you are really sure about Park Jimin, is that he’s a man of many maybes.

Something which definitely doesn’t look forced are his palms, cupping the cheeks of Chin-sun’s flushed face. He starts tracing circles on her skin in intimate gesture and murmurs something. Maybe he asks her how was her day. Your lips still tingle where he trailed his thumb over it bitten, swollen surface. Maybe he still remembers how they felt around his cock when he was relentlessly bringing tears to your eyes and stabs to your heart.

The way he leans and kisses Chin-sun’s cherry colored lips is purposeful, perfectly measured. Maybe he sighs into her mouth with content, a beautiful sound you have witnessed with your own ears, as you were working him to his climax. Jimin’s hands grip Chin-sun’s dark locks but it isn’t the similar manner he did to you earlier, as he laced his fingers through the strands, when you wished him to do nothing more than pull harder and harder, until the pain in you scalp was replaced by dull ache, until a whimper fell from your lips and eyes squeezed shut. He kisses Chin-sun lovingly and there’s no roughness in that. It’s gentle caresses and soft murmurs.

After a moment he breaks off, soothing his palms over Chin-sun’s shoulders. She sends him a smile and opens the passenger’s door, getting into the car. And then, when you swallow a lump in your throat, when you decide to turn around and go, run as fast as you possibly can, when you dream about nothing more but never seeing him again, you catch eyes with him.

Jimin looks pathetically apologetic. There’s something in his dark brown orbs you can’t read. Maybe it’s guilt, maybe regret. Park Jimin is a man of many maybes, yet he stares at you with expression you could only mistaken for sadness.

You wonder if he sees the way your eyes stare at him blankly. You wonder if he knows how he nearly wrecked your body and made you feel things you shouldn’t. If he hurts the same way as you do now. However, Jimin quickly diverts his head away from you, closing the door to his car behind him as well. You laugh quietly at the ridiculousness of this situation. A bitter laugh that escapes your mouth and deepen the hollowness inside you.

A hand touches your arm and you don’t even flinch, knowing already who it is.

“So you know the news,” Taehyung says, looking at Jimin’s car leaving the parking lot. How long has he been standing behind you?

“What news?” you ask, turning your head to look at him.

“Chin-sun is really going to be miss Park officially,” he replies. “Jimin proposed to her this weekend. The wedding is in may. But that’s not important right now. How’s your conversation with him, sweetheart?”

You feel sick. You excuse yourself, mentioning something about needing to catch earlier train and texting him later. Taehyung calls after you but you don’t listen. You start running.

You run until you couldn’t breathe, until there’s a soreness in your throat from the coldness of air. You run until you reach your apartment, stumbling into it on wobbly legs. Your back touches the wall and you slide off, sitting on the floor.

You don’t cry. The tears don’t strain your eyes. It’s only this damned, dull hollowness.

There’s written in the Bible that a guilty person is the one who broke God’s law, who committed a sin. The said person will be judged by their actions after their death. Because every human being has a conscience, the thing that sets the line between good and bad, so when we did something wrong, we should feel remorse.

When you sit on the floor and stare blankly in front of yourself, you know you have sinned.You both did. You wonder if he, trailing patterns of tender touches on his fiancee’s skin, feels the same as you. You wonder if guilt eats him up as much as devours you. Maybe there’s hollow ache in his chest, just like in yours. Maybe he doesn’t feel anything.

And may the God help you both find your redemption.

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itsomgitsgreenblogging · 5 years

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Pour Over Me: A Critical Role Fanfic, chapter 2

I finally have gotten this done...and I realized that I would need to split the actual chapter into two. So next chapter will be the last chapter! As always, I'd like to thank the Essek server! You guys rock.

I hope you all enjoy!

Read first chapter on Tumblr

Read on AO3

Preview:

He turned his head, moving out of the shade for just a single moment. Caleb was utterly radiant. In the sunlight, Caleb’s hair was fire, an even more vivid shade than Essek had realized. And his eyes were the color of the sky. A shade of blue that was almost impossible to replicate and yet by some magic it was here in his gaze.

When you tear my heart out of my chest, will you at least cherish it? Essek's thought in a strange daze. Will you kiss me, before you devour it whole?

Essek stood in the ballroom, as the Mighty Nein filtered in joking and laughing as usual. He thought his mask was meticulous as always---his smile so practiced that it was a natural feature of his face like the two moons in the sky. But Caduceus immediately frowned at the sight of him, and Jester cast him a worried furrowed look.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Essek?” Caduceus asked, the concern in his voice tugging at some of the heartstrings that Essek couldn’t believe he still had. He had sworn he had cut them all a while ago, and yet, somehow he was still in this situation.

“Yes, of course,” Essek said breezily, clasping his fingers in front of him. “A second tutor has been provided to aid me in your instruction. We shall wait for her before beginning today, she should be here momentarily."

“Are they...someone we need to take care of?” Beauregard asked him, her voice low and eyes narrowed. “Do we need to fuck someone up? Is that something we have to do at the ball?”

“No, it is not required nor is that a function of the ceremony,” Essek assured her. “She--”

“Essek!”

At that moment, Adore made her appearance. Essek wished beyond all wishes that he could push her out an open window. If he weren’t so annoyed, he would have been impressed. She was all red draped silk, cinched waist, and a slit that was very nearly scandalous...the exact kind of thing that suited her best and it made Essek want to strangle her. She ran her fingers through her fur, before pulling it off in a perfectly calculated motion that was meant to reveal with golden-shimmer of her pale white shoulders. Her tail swayed, like a too pleased predator about to pounce on her prey.

“Introduce me, Essek,” Adore demanded, voice lush and like the whisper of desire tossing her furs at a neighbor servant who looked dazed and confused.

“Mighty Nein,” Essek said, perfectly pleasant. “Lady Adore Theylss.”

“Essek’s elder sister,” Adore added, holding out her hand. “It is truly a pleasure to meet all of you. I have heard so much about you, despite my little brother’s penchant for secrets.”

“My name is Fjord, it’s a pleasure,” Fjord introduced, taking her hand and kissing it. Adore looked at him through her heavy golden lashes.

“Caduceus Clay,” Caduceus said, introduction pleasant but reserved. He didn’t move to take her hand, but he smiled.

“I’m Jester!” She introduced with an excited wave.

“Nott,” Nott said, uncharacteristically morose and with her arms crossed in front of her chest. She looked like she itched to pull her crossbow, and Essek couldn’t blame her.

“Yasha,” said the barbarian, softly, inspecting Adore as if she were a strange rare being that was meant to be approached with caution.

“I’m Beau,” Beau introduced brashly, pushing slightly in front of Caduceus, also kissing Adore’s hand.

“Caleb Widogast,” he introduced, his blue eyes raking over Adore’s face quickly, with an expression that Essek couldn’t even begin to categorize. Thankfully, it wasn’t desire. Essek didn’t think he would be able to take that. Instead, it was a cool neutral mask.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Adore crooned. “To meet all of you. Fjord, would you mind giving me a hand for a moment--”

"Your sister is fucking hot," Beau hissed at Essek as Adore and Fjord walked to the side to move a table. "I'm sorry, is that weird? Did I say something weird because holy shit. Could she step on me?"

"Yes, it is weird," Essek said, resigned.

"You are hotter," Jester tried to soothe, her stage whisper not subtle in any way and Essek prayed that Adore was too caught up with introducing herself further to Fjord that she wouldn't notice. "Like you are really really pretty Essek."

"And-everyone-thinks-so-right-Caleb?" Nott asked her words a jumble of syllables. Caleb looked up from petting Frumpkin with startled and wide eyes.

"I--uh--"

"I am afraid I am very used to this," Essek said, cutting him off. He didn't think he could bear to hear the answer either way. "Adore! Let us not dally any longer.”

“Of course, of course,” Adore said as she clapped her hands together. “Now, I would like to see how far you’ve all progressed. Partner up please.”

The Mighty Nein got in their usual pairs, except for Caleb, who looked at Essek expectantly. Essek opened his mouth--to say something, anything really when immediately Adore saw him. Essek’s hand remained frozen by his side. He was caught in her trap, and they both knew it.

“Ah, I see there is one left over. Would you mind?” Adore asked Caleb, her expression a mask of politeness. But there was just the flick of her gaze to Essek, the smugness of that flash, and it made his guts churn violently.

“Of course not,” Caleb said softly.

“Very well then,” Adore said, taking his hand with her bare fingers delicately with a sort of ease that had Essek burning. Her body pressed against Caleb’s in ways Essek’s did not. Adore was a beautiful dancer, beyond graceful and refined. But she was daring too, in the way she arched and moved into Caleb like an unrepented wave--

Stop it, Essek demanded of himself. Stop looking. This is what she wants. She wants you to be affected, to be angry. She wants you to act out irrationally so she can report back to Mother. This is the most obvious hand she could play and you are playing right into it, you are better than this petty game.

But what if she was what he preferred? Though Essek was not attracted to female beauty and she was his sister above all else, Essek knew rationally that Adore was a beautiful woman. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how she so easily courted favor wherever she went. Her color made her rare and striking, her voice was warm and dripping with sublime elegance. Growing up, Essek had been drilled on manners, cut his teeth on High Undercommon, had to practice noble protocol and table manners and conversation. Adore had sailed through it all with relative ease, as if she had been born to rub shoulders and steal hearts.

What if she was what Caleb wanted? The thought was there as Adore coached them into a dip. Their faces were close. Close enough to bite or to kiss. And he may want to kiss her. Perhaps Caleb didn't like men at all. He had been tense when they danced together after all. Essek had to have been projecting his own unruly...feelings (but not even feelings these had to just be urges or instincts) onto Caleb. He should have just been happy with being...companionable. Caleb had called him a friend, but--

“Very good, Mr. Widogast,” Adore said, her voice a purr. Her touch lingered upon upon his shoulder a moment too long, trailing down suggestively. “I can see my brother has not stinted on your education."

I'm going to kill her, Essek thought decisively.

"The Shadowhand is a patient and thorough teacher," Caleb said simply. Not pulling away, nor moving closer to Adore. His face was a neutral mask--not indifferent, but not the desperate sort of hunger Adore tended to inspire. Adore smiled at him, a slanting sort of half-smirk tossed in his direction.

"I'm sure you need that, don't you?" Adore laughed airily. "A thorough teacher, that is?"

"Adore, I shall remind you not to ignore the other students. It isn't like you to pick favorites," Essek said with a smile that felt like scraping nails against his skin.

"Ah, but of course," Adore hummed, and her gaze met Essek's.

I see you, it said. I see you the same way I always have. You are Mother's pet, her little mutt she brought in off the streets with your wayward father, her possession. You are dispensable and we all know it. Disagree, I dare you.

It made Essek want to crawl out of his own skin.

They both took the Mighty Nein through the flourishes and quick turns. Adore took particular note to dance with Caleb, Beau, and Fjord. The three targets, Essek knew. The three she believed she could manipulate. He knew rationally that she would most likely be sorely disappointed, but the old fear was there and it was strong. Strong enough that when it was his turn to dance with Jester, she gave his hand a supportive squeeze.

"I don't think I like her," Jester grumbled as they danced together, eyes on the pair of Beau and Adore dancing. They cut a striking pair across the ballroom floor.

"If I may tell you a secret?" Essek said, leaning in closer. "I don't either."

"I can cut holes in her pants," Jester offered, with a mischievous smile. “If you want. Or I can send her scary messages! Beau doesn’t want me to do that with her dad but I could totally do it for you.”

"If anything, she would like that," Essek promised. Jester humphed like she was the long suffering heroine of some tragedy. This was something Essek admired in her; her disarming charm was nearly a lethal weapon. He wondered what it was like...to be so universally adored. Was it easy for her? Essek wouldn’t know. He often felt like he was drowning when everyone else appeared fine.

"She doesn't treat you kindly," Jester said, as her brows furrowed and lips pouting. "And that's like, super duper mean. If she's your family she ought to treat you better!"

"We have a...complicated relationship," Essek explained. "And I'm afraid I've done enough to deserve it."

"You are nice, Essek," Jester said as if it were the most obvious fact in the universe. “I don’t think you have done something to deserve someone being mean to you, unless you used to be a really bad guy. Were you a bad guy, did you do crimes Essek?”

“As I’ve told you, I’m not very interesting,” Essek said with a shake of his head before adding an extra spin. Jester smiled widely and warmly as she giggled. Essek could see how easy it was for someone to fall in love with her. Jester was beautiful, soft and rounded. She exuded a sort of childlike innocence and a whole-hearted love that was easy to sink into. He wondered, perhaps, if this was what Caleb desired? An innocent and pure love, that tasted of melting sweets and was perfumed with lavender. This Essek could understand.

Not yours, Essek thought as he looked at Caleb yet again. He was dancing with Nott now, smiling at her easily. Never yours.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Jester said, nearly pushing her lips to his ear, like a gentle sisterly kiss. “Caleb thinks you are nice too.”

On that note they separated. Essek bowed, while Jester curtsied. Essek felt Caleb’s eyes on his neck, but didn’t turn around to look. There was only so much of this game he could take after all.

----

The table was set, filled with a dizzying array of food. The servants of the Theylss Den had to have been up all night preparing the feast. From roast fish to caviar-stuff mushrooms, the courses were brought out with all the pomp and circumstance that was befitting of the Den. There were Ladhinder snails with garlic butter and seasonal tubers and roasted squash on beautiful printed plates. Elegant soups to be served with spoons that had handles like creeping vines. All of it had been prepared by a critical eye, and served on the best silverware and porcelain that the den was in possession of and was probably worth what the average citizen made in two years. His mother waved her hand, and a servant quickly worked to fill her plate as she watched from the rim of her wine glass with a disapproving glower.

“Thank you,” Essek said to the servant girl as she placed his plate down.

“Of course, Lord Shadowhand,” the servant girl said with a relieved smile. She curtsied before disappearing back into the kitchen.

“You sweet on that one then, Essek?” Rylas asked him, eyebrow raised. As the Denfather, he was sitting beside Mother. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, as if deep in thought.

“Of course he isn’t sweet on that one, Father,” Drari scoffed, the half-orc rolling his eyes.

“I am merely thanking the servants,” Essek said, taking his napkin and spreading it upon his lap.

“Why, so they can whisper to your little shadows?” Drari asked, stabbing a slab of meat with his fork. Probably imagining Essek’s face. Essek fought to remain polite and distant. .

“Of course,” Essek said with a polite nod. "It always pays to make nice."

"You don't make nice," Drari scoffed, a vein jumping at his neck.

"As far as I'm aware, your fiance kept their job, regardless of their ability to keep books from suddenly hemorrhaging coin--"

"In spite of you…!"

"Children," Mother said, voice cold and demanding. "Your bickering is giving me a headache. Adore, tell me, how did the lesson go?"

Essek resisted the urge to grab something and tear it apart with his hands. Adore, however, preened as if she were being called to go on stage.

"Very well, Mother. The heroes are so very interesting. Different than the tales, but I could spin a hundred songs from just one afternoon," Adore said with a dreamy sigh. "Especially about the pretty human wizard? What was his name? Mr. Widogast? Isn't that right, Essek?"

Essek didn't validate her words with a response. Instead just looked ahead, ignoring the stares from every person at the table that he was receiving. The servants, ducked into the shadows, all looked at him with a understanding sadness that nearly soaked into the walls like a cold rain. He knew all of their names, and their families. And he was finding it easier to focus on them then on what was happening at the table.

"Was he very pretty, my love?" Adore's husband, a dragonborn named Kan'el asked. He took her hand and kissed it, and she grinned conspiratorially at him.

"Oh, very! Most of them were absolutely scrumptious. I can see why Essek tries to keep them to himself."

Essek focused on his breath, on the sensation of his lungs and ribs expanding. Not on this. Not this--

"Tell me something, Essek," Adore demanded, eyes sliding over to him. "When you spread your legs like a common whore for that wizard, is he at least halfway decent? Or do you just let him rut into you like an animal?"

"Stop it," Essek snarled, slamming his hands down on the table. "Say another word, I dare you."

The table was deadly quiet for the span of a breath. The servants scurried into the kitchens and ducked into hallways, away from the oncoming storm. It was wise of them, no doubt.

"Wait...no," Adore gasped clasping her hands together, studying his face with a growing expression of glee. "You haven't, have you? You haven't bedded him then? Oh, brother, that is hilarious. You'll have to do it soon, or he'll shrivel up."

"My darling," Kan'el said chidingly, though obviously amused at her daring. "Don't be so crude."

"But I am right! You are entirely too tightly wound, Essek," Adore said, waving her glittering hand and claws at him. "Just fuck the man and work out whatever feelings you think you have festering like some open wound. It's so obvious, Essek, your bleeding heart is spilling out all over the floor. I know it pains you to have to pretend to be a person, but please, for all of our sakes just--"

"Adore," their Mother said, stopping her tirade. Essek glared at Adore, his teeth aching from how hard he was clenching them. "As crudely as Adore put it, she does have a point Essek."

"She has no point. I've never--"

"Essek, allow us to be serious for a second," Mother said, setting down her fork with a click. If there had been air in the dining room, it all escaped now. "Nothing about your personal connection to them will benefit you in the long run."

"They are heroes of the Dynasty."

"They are mercenaries. Traitors to one nation, and perhaps they will become traitors to ours. You will be attached to them, and it will bring you down. Think rationally," Mother demanded before sighing. "Of that you are capable, I know you are, unlike your fool brothers and sisters."

"Mother!" Adore snapped, white-skin growing brighter. Drari looked murderously at her.

"Oh be quiet," Mother commanded. Adore mouth clicked close. "Essek, my dearest. Be reasonable."

“Being reasonable means something very different for you than for me,” Essek pointed out.

“Does it?” Mother asked him. "Allow me to give you this piece of advice, Essek. The greatest skill that one learns in thousands of years? Restraint."

“Oh? Is it?” Essek asked her, a jagged sarcastic edge to his voice.

“Self-control, to be measured and to moderate your behavior to suit the situation,” Mother said, her eyes flashing. “Right now this is the area you are sorely lacking in. You are indulging yourself in ridiculous urges. You are my brightest child, and I shall not have you squander your potential--”

“As if you are one to chastise me about restraint,” Essek scoffed, interrupting her. He stood up. “Everything I have done, my whole life, is try to keep everything under control and to please you and the Bright Queen. And I’m good at it. If I say I have it all under control then I do. I have no personal connection to them. I don’t--I have no illusions about that.”

"I saw you today," Adore reminded him, smile hard and angry. "I've never seen you like that. Normally when mother let me have my way with your playthings, you just folded like a broken chair. But this was different, wasn't it?"

"They are not my playthings," Essek said firmly, throwing his napkin on the table. “The Mighty Nein are...well, it doesn’t matter anyways. Good night.”

“Oh don’t be like that, Essek!” Adore called after him, but Essek was already out the door. He was grabbing his mantle when he heard his mother's heels. He stopped and looked at her. She had her arms crossed, and was staring at him impetuously. Eventually she sighed, and almost looked fond. As if Essek was a small child simply misbehaving.

"Essek," she said, her voice almost comforting. "You know that all I wish is for us to maintain what we have."

"I know, Mother," Essek said simply. She reached to trace his features with a touch that was a cruel illusion of motherly concern.

"You inherited the only admirable traits your father had, your pretty face and comely voice. Everything else is mine," she said, grasping his chin. “We are alike, you and I. I know that when the time comes you will make the right decision. You’ll find your way to the correct path.”

You are mine, she didn't say. My belonging to do with as I wish. The honors you achieve are mine, your accomplishments are mine, you are mine.

Suddenly, he was a child again. They had all been watched incessantly for any sign of consecution. Everything was a test, everything. Your words, actions, how you looked at mother, how you slept or breathed. Just because a member of the den was your parent, it didn't mean you would stay.

Dead weight, Adore scoffed as a half-brother was given away, staring at them with eyes like broken-open graves as he was dragged out the door and away from the only world he had ever known.

Weak. It'll be you next, Essek. Just you wait and see. Drari snickered.

Be grateful that isn’t you, his father sneered and Essek's cheek hurt from where he had backhanded him. Essek had liked that half-brother...his name had been Unak. He had cried when he had realized he wouldn't hear his brother play little cheerful tunes with his pennywhistle any longer...and his father had seen it. Prove your worth and you won’t end up a failure like him.

I don't even like him, Essek's first love, his first kiss, his first everything scoffed down the hall as Essek hid in a shadowed alcove. He had a crooked smile and a daring laugh, and had been less talented than Essek but not by much. His friends snickered with him, as if Essek's existence...his love was some great cosmic joke. His Denmother told me that I just need to keep him in line until his consecution, and then I can have the pick of who I'll marry.

Essek would be thrown away. His whole life was spread out before him like some desolate plain, devoid of warmth or hope. The terror was a constant prevalent ache, like a wound that wouldn't heal. It scabbed over and tore, was ripped and bled. He hadn't been consecuted and he was of middling muddied blood. The Denmother even giving him a chance was a mercy, given only because he had been born of her. Essek was nothing but fodder or an easy target or just invisible. How? How could he escape his ruinous fate? He had to search for a way. Essek had to find a way to keep himself from being abandoned for good. If he was powerful enough, smart enough, then maybe--

And yet, all these years later, he still found himself alone and vulnerable in this house. He would rather quit it for good.

"I found my way in spite of you," Essek said, his voice cool and impersonal. A stalwart loathing was rising in him. It was the same feeling he had when he had hacked off all of his hair with scissors the morning of his consecution. He had watched the horror spread upon his Denmother's face in the chapel and had been so proud. "I'll ask you not to pretend otherwise."

"Fine," Mother said, stepping back. She looked exasperated. "Don't take my advice, but don't come crying to me when they hurt you."

"I won't," Essek promised. "In that regard, you have the second highest honor."

On that note, Essek left the house. He went home, floating as he did, grateful for the cool darkness. As soon as he was beyond the door of his towers, he leaned against the wall. The shaky exhale of breath escaped his lungs. His feet hit the ground with a soft click, and he slid down to sit on the floor.

"Stop it," Essek demanded of himself, clenching his trembling fingers and forcing the air in and out of his lungs in ragged breaths. "Stop thinking about it. You are fine. You are fine. You are going to get up. You are going to go read Weraq's Treatise on Time and Space. You will get a glass of your favorite wine. You will start the fireplace. You will relax. You will stop acting like a fool, and just calm down you fucking idiot. You must prepare. You’ll have to face them again tomorrow."

He chastised himself for a few more minutes, working to gather his strength and then peel himself up from the floor.

He had a long week ahead of him.

And so Essek continued to practice with the Mighty Nein, only occasionally bothered by his sister. But by the end of the week, even Adore was too busy with preparations to come and cause further destruction and mayhem within Essek’s personal life. The last two days leading up to the actual Day of Radiance was so busy with paperwork and shadow-monitoring that he couldn’t even check in with the Mighty Nein, though he had been informed that they had gone to get their evening attire without any out-of-the-ordinary antics.

The morning of the Day of Radiance came. He had tranced early so that way he would be able to wake early. He had wanted to be sure to collect the Mighty Nein before the ritual started. Essek, used to a realm of eternal night where the passage of time meant little, had been told that the sun rose “early” though he didn’t really understand what that meant. He hadn’t expected an extremely grumpy Beau to answer the door, her hard-worn scowl even more prominent.

“This should be illegal,” Beau grumbled. “Well...come on in. We could get you breakfast or something?"

“I have already eaten, but I appreciate the offer," Essek said simply, drifting past the entrance before dropping his spell.

"Oh my goodness Essek, my dress is absolutely beautiful! I know you'll see it tonight but do you wanna see it now?" Jester asked, grabbing his hands and bouncing up and down.

"I wouldn't dare ruin the surprise for later," Essek said, patting one hand calmingly. "I'm sure you will look absolutely breathtaking."

"Aw, Essek! You are going to make me blush!" Jester said with a giggle and a flutter of her eyelashes, tail waving behind her. "You aren't super in love with me are you?"

"As lovely as you are, I assure you no."

"Hello Essek," Caduceus greeted warmly, he reached out and took Essek's hand and shook it. He looked to picture of serenity as opposed to Beau...and Fjord who was laying on the coach snoring. "Ah...they had to wake up extra early to work out this morning."

"I see."

"It'll be nice to see the sun today," Yasha said, her quiet thoughtful voice coming from the table. In her large hands she cradled a laughably delicate elf-sized tea cup. "Are you looking forward to it?"

"It will be a very busy day," Essek admitted. "With a lot of official business."

"I understand."

"Is that a new robe attached to your mantle?" Nott called, plodding into the room. As was the rest of the Mighty Nein, she was wearing her usual clothing, but they had obviously all been washed and pressed. Essek would have to ask if they used his recommended cleaner's.

"Ah…yes, for the occasion," Essek said. He had liked it because the fabric itself had a pleasing luster to it.

"It looks very handsome, doesn't it Cay-Cay?" Nott called back as Caleb entered the living space.

Essek had been seeing Caleb almost every day, and yet, he was still punched in the gut by how handsome he was. It was horrible how clean clothes and a shaved face could leave Essek so speechless. He was thankful that he wasn't required to be the next one to speak in this interaction.

"Of course," Caleb said softly. "Good morning, Essek."

"Good morning to you as well," Essek said managing to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. He smiled his usual smile. "Well, if we are all here and ready, we must be getting going. They will soon start putting out the lanterns, and the streets are already quite busy.

"We saw the stalls all going up yesterday. It really is like a big Harvest Close festival isn't it?" Fjord asked the others.

"Do you think we'll be able to throw you again?" Jester asked excitedly.

"No...definitely will not do a repeat of that performance,” Fjord said shaking his head. Yasha and Jester shared a meaningful look that Essek simply didn’t understand.

“Let’s stop fucking around and get going!” Nott whined impatiently.

“Okay Mighty Nein, break!” Fjord shouted, followed by a discordant clapping from everyone but Essek who stood there, rather confused, but was willing to usher them out the door.

The city was alive in anticipation. Stalls lined the streets, with food vendors shouting out different prices for famous Xhorhassian dishes from across the Dynasty, clothing, jewels, games, or anything else you could possibly think of. The crowd swelled more intensely directly outside the Lucid Bastion. With a little effort they were let into the Lucid Bastion, to the upper most level of the Cathedral of the Bright Queen. There, the Bright Queen sat upon her throne, flanked by the High General and her innermost court members. This level was the observatory, the glass ceiling now open and the clerics of the Luxon gathered below it as well as some high-level wizards who Essek counted as his colleagues. When everyone was settled in their place, the Bright Queen raised her staff.

“Let us commence with the Day of Radiance,” she announced.

With a nod of her head, the wizards began to somatic gestures. The Clerics kneeled upon the floor, clasping their hands and began to pray,

“Oh Glorious Lord of Light, You who were first in the Universe and Master of All Creation. Keep me and bless me, in this life and my future lives. Show me the way as you did Our Most Righteous Queen, so that I may never be led astray. Let me pray for ascension, for consecution. Let us offer our bodies--our transient and mortal vessels to the light so that we may reach true Enlightenment.”

“So I will it, so shall it be!” the Bright Queen commanded.

Then, there was a pulse of power that shot up straight into the cover of darkness. Most of the members of the Mighty Nein gasped as it occurred. Even Essek, who saw this ritual once a year, still never got over the way the sky looked as the magic pulsed and radiated within the spectral field. And then, like the shell of the world had cracked like an egg, the field splintered and evaporated. There was a roar from the crowd outside, and the Bright Queen’s smile was nearly euphoric.

Dawn was just breaking across the sky, lightening the curtain of the world. Dark blue shifted to light, and then there was the burnt orange glow of the sun beginning to gather like condensation at the bottom of a bowl. And then, the sun peaked out from the horizon. Thankfully it was low enough it didn’t hurt. And as soon as it did, there were cheers, fireworks were set off, and the sound of cheerful music burst out.

The Bright Queen announced the end of the ceremony. Immediately, the nobility began to chit chat.

“That is our cue,” Essek told the Mighty Nein. “If you would like, you may go down and join the festivities until the Illumination Ball.”

“Oh! Can we? Can we?” Jester asked excitedly. “I want to go feel the sun on my face!”

“Let’s go get some breakfast,” Beau said, stretching.

“Essek, are you coming with us?” Caleb asked, startling Essek. The rest of the Mighty Nein was looking at him expectantly. Usually, on the Day of Radiance he kept to the inside of the Lucid Bastion. Often he would pretend to be busy, but really he preferred to stay out of the light. Sunlight wasn’t deadly to his kind, but it was certainly uncomfortable after a little bit, and his eyes had always been particularly sensitive. He had been told it was because he had silver eyes...the lighter the pigment the worse the pain.

But looking at the expectant faces of the Mighty Nein, he found his protests stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“I can come for a bit,” Essek said, offering a smile. In his mind, he was calculating how long it would be before the light became unbearable. He should be fine for at least an hour.

“You’ll have to point us to the best food,” Fjord said with a grin before elbowing Caduceus. “We’ll probably find tea too.”

“They do have stalls that have tea,” Essek explained. “I’ll at least be able to show you to the popular food stalls.”

“Oh! I never thought to sell tea in a stall, that’s nice!” Caduceus said, sounding legitimately delighted at the prospect.

The streets were a hectic swell of bodies. Essek directed them through the movement to one of the stalls that served a popular drink made of rice, milk, and spices. Jester added an ungodly amount of syrup, as opposed to Nott who passed out shots to slip into the cups of anyone who wanted them. Essek himself got a bowl of rice porridge, while he watched them all attempt to figure out tofu or rice bowls or the spice of a fermented cabbage.

They had been relatively safe in the rows of stalls, in the shade cast by the building and the roofs. But almost at the next moment, Essek took a wrong step and was immediately blinded. Oh, his eyes burned. He always hated this the most about the sunlight. He squinted, trying to make it bearable, but he couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes and spilled over. Essek turned quickly to face the wall, ducking his head to wipe at his eyes.

“Essek? Is something wrong?” Caleb’s voice, low and soft and concerned. Essek jumped, having not expected to be seen and in such a pitiful condition.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, my eyes are very sensitive to the light,” Essek apologized, closing his eyes and praying for strength. Even like this, the burning was nearly too much. “Forgive me.”

He felt a hand grasp his, and tug him somewhere. Then he felt a touch upon his cheek...the most delicate and gentle brush of a thumb against his cheek. The touch traced right where his tears were cooling upon his skin. Essek stayed still, desperately trying not to shy away from the sensation. It all felt so close, and so personal, and so intimate that it left him breathless. When he managed to open his eyes (out of necessity...only because if he lingered in this moment too long he was afraid he would never leave) he saw Caleb looking down at him, having led them into the shade.

When you tear my heart out of my chest, will you at least cherish it? Essek's thought in a strange daze. Will you kiss me, before you devour it whole?

"Essek?" Caleb asked, concerned, and Essek realized that he must have missed what Caleb had said to him.

"Yes?"

"Do you want me to get Jester or Caduceus?" Caleb repeated, shifting on his feet nervously like a shy animal wandering close to a person.

"No...no, I will be fine," Essek promised.

“Oh, wait!” Caleb said, rooting around in his bag. “Ah, sheisse--here it is!”

Out of his bag, he produced a hat. It was a straw hat, wide-brimmed and floppy. Essek blinked, half incredulous and half because it really was difficult to see in this light.

“Caduceus gave this to me to hold onto, if you’d like I’m sure he wouldn’t mind?” Caleb asked.

What would hurt worse? The sun in his eyes, or his bruised ego? The hat would really clash with his whole outfit. But in the end, the burning in his eyes was enough. He plucked the hat from Caleb’s grasp, careful not to brush their fingertips against each other. He placed it on his head, mindful of his ears and earrings, and was immediately glad for the shade. Essek looked up to see a smile attempting to peak out from the horizon of Caleb's lips. Essek gave him a look.

"I must look ridiculous," Essek signed, resigned to his fate, curling his hands inside his sleeves. "Feel free to laugh."

“You could never look ridiculous,” Caleb promised with velvet soft eyes that Essek could almost feel sweeping across his features. “Though I am not a good judge of these things, but you are always...”

“Always?” Essek prompted. Caleb for a moment looked caught, like a child sneaking sweets from a jar.

“You always look refined and put together,” Caleb said, the slightest tint of pink in his cheeks and on the soft rounded curve of his ears. In the daylight, somehow, it was even more charming. It was strange, but somehow in the light the human looked more alive then Essek had ever seen him before. A creature of light and fire, Essek thought solemnly. How strange it would be...if his people had never conquered the sky with magic. If they had remained bound to the Underdark their paths would have never crossed.

“Stop flirting over there and join us!” Beauregard shouted at them. Essek watched Caleb’s face go scarlett. Essek was glad for his years of rigorous court training and for the shade of the hat that hid his face.

“We ought to go join your friends,” Essek said, motioning for Caleb to follow. Caleb gave Essek a sheepish smile, and then did.

He looked at the Mighty Nein, their rambunctious spirit and their excited demeanor. He looked from Jester marvelling over sweets sculpted to look like small baby birds or spiders, Nott playing tossing games against Fjord while Caleb watched, and Yasha and Clay browsed stalls. He orbited around them, like one of the dwarf planets that their scholars documented in their reports. Essek was just thankful to be able to bask momentarily in their shine.

Essek caught Caleb’s smile, and returned it with one of his own.

-----

“Essek what do you think?” Jester called before bursting out from a corner. The top of her dress unfolded like beautiful flower petals about her shoulders and chest, it was cinched at her waist and then unfurled out in asymmetrical waves of sparkling pink pastel fabric that lightened to almost blush-white at the bottom. The front was short enough to reveal calf, almost enough to be scandalous but just riding the line.

They were within the palace. Essek was waiting for the Mighty Nein and just hoping and praying they left everything within the suites alone. A shadow had already been assigned to check over the rooms for any missing objects or hidden dick drawings, but he had faith that if left to their own devices the Mighty Nein was capable of many unforeseeable things.

“You look beautiful,” Essek promised her, “as do you Nott.”

“Thank you,” Nott chirped, swishing her lantern-light yellow dress. It was similar to Jester’s in style, but with a high neck and gloves.

“We all clean up nicely I think,” Beau said, appearing in blue robes, with an ornate detailed sash with the design of swooping dragon flies and iridescent lily flowers. Caduceus was smiling at the long sleeves of his tunic, an ephemeral garment a swirling floral design that matched with his general aesthetic. His green vestiges had real flower buds beginning to bloom along the buttons. And his, though his symbol was there, were also adorned with creeping gold vines.

“That we do,” Fjord said before motioning Beau closer to him. He was wearing a more classic Xhorhassian silhouette, a geometrically quilted dark green gambeson and black cloak and cut a dashing figure in it. He helped to straighten her sash before giving her a thumb’s up. Yasha was wearing her usual armor, though it had obviously been cleaned and mended. She nodded at Essek.

“Ah, Essek.”

Essek’s mouth went dry.

Caleb was dressed like a main character from Essek’s childhood collection of fairy tales from across the world. He was dressed like a bridegroom on his way to woo his sweetheart, blue vest and shiny gold buttons and a jacket with a velvet lapel. His hair was even tied back with a blue ribbon, which made his hair an even richer red and his eyes a cornflower blue. Essek tried to find somewhere to look, but somehow was even more distracted. From the white ascot that contrasted against the pale cream and a dusting of dusky freckles upon his neck, to the attractive cut of his pants that certainly did him plenty of favors.

“I see the tailor earned his keep,” Essek managed to comment before immediately turning to everyone for emphasis. “You all look wonderful.”

“It’s a little rich for my blood,” Caleb said worriedly, pulling at his sleeve. “I am afraid the clothes are wearing the man, ja?”

“Not at all, Caleb!” Nott protested shrilly, grabbing onto his sleeve. “You look wonderful! Doesn't he, Essek?"

"Of course," Essek said simply. "You all do."

Nott pouted as if that wasn't the answer she was going for. But thankfully no one else pressed him, if they had Essek wasn't sure he would be able to hide the fact he was having heart palpitations. It should be against the laws of nature for a man to be so attractive. There was an old story of a drow who wasted away looking at his reflection in an underground pool so still that it acted as a mirror, and when Essek was young he didn’t understand why he didn’t prioritize his life over beauty. But looking at Caleb just now? Essek wasn’t sure he would be able to notice if he were on fire in the face of such beauty.

They entered the ballroom during the announcements. All of the important nobility and diplomats were given their dues, including the Mighty Nein who all seemed to have various reactions to all the attention that was given to them. Essek quickly ducked out, to give his mantle to one of the servants. He didn’t want to give it up because they would all see him, but he had to because the garment was too cumbersome to dance in. They would see the lines of his body in a way that Essek wished to keep private. Essek had always been good at hiding in plain sight...but without his mantle everyone would see--

“You look very nice,” a voice startled him out of the rising tide of his panic. Essek looked over to see the High General, dressed in resplendent military garb, silvered and shining like a full moon. Her mouth quirked up in a small smile. “Though, I always do forget how scrawny you are underneath that mantle of yours.”

“I can hardly dance with it if I need to,” Essek said, smoothing his silvered brocade tunic, making sure the fine black pearls buttons were properly shiny. “As much as I loathe to give it up.”

“You will dance then? With the human wizard?” the High General asked, sounding amused.

“I doubt it,” Essek said as he clasped his hands behind his back. “It wouldn’t be proper. I will merely offer support if needed.”

“You are very good at being improper,” the High General noted. “In the best ways, of course. Being too proper hurts the soul. It is better to be brash.”

“That I am not too sure of,” Essek admitted.

“Do yourself a favor, Essek,” the High General said, looking at him with a soft gaze. “Allow yourself even the slightest indulgence. You are still in your first life, now is the time to be wild and reckless.”

“I don’t know if the Bright Queen would appreciate that sentiment,” Essek said with a scoff.

“I doubt my wife would,” the High General laughed, hearty and full of life. “But she also was once a wild, young, reckless creature at heart. That I can assure you. She has always seen a lot of herself in you. And I know that she, as well as I, would hate for you to miss out on what is possible for you.”

“The comparison is enough to honor me,” Essek said, bowing deeply.

“I shall see you in the ballroom.”

With that, the High General swept out of the room the moment his mother swept in. She curtsied deeply to the High General before she looked over Essek with a critical gaze. Dierta walked around him, like she was inspecting him for any fault, but was apparently sated by whatever she saw and ending her incessant circling. He already wanted to go home.

“What did the High General speak to you about?” Dierta asked, her red gown swaying as she moved, on top of the satin a layer of sheer sparkling fabric decorated with rubies and crystal blooms caught in the lamp light and made her shimmer.

“She merely wished me well,” Essek said. “Are they announcing our den soon?”

“Yes, I would like for you to accompany me and your father,” Dierta said, holding out her arm and Essek took it automatically.

“A strange choice,” Essek noted. “But of course, Mother.”

“Of course not,” his mother said cooly, smiling pleasantly as servants moved out of their way. “You are of my den and my son, after all.”

“And you are not angry with me for the other night?”

“Angry? No, of course not,” she said, her hand reaching to pat his. “You see, your father reminded me that you are young. I always forget that, you know.”

“I am an adult, Mother,” Essek reminded her, still smiling easily. “Do not patronize me, and treat me like a misbehaving pet. And your husband is not my father, you made that clear to me the other day.”

“Now, now, of that you are right. But your father never had such a horrible temper,” Mother chided him. “I haven’t the slightest clue where you got that from.”

“You and I remember my father very differently then,” Essek told her.

“Perhaps,” his Mother said with a sigh. “You were always a sensitive child.”

Essek held his tongue, he had to, or else he would say something he knew he would regret. Keep it inside, Essek told himself sternly. Keep it inside. Do not let her see your weakness. All she ever does is exploit it and you for her own gain.

“Dance the Opening Dance with Danton of Den Kilsek,” his mother said lightly, conversationally. As if it weren’t an order. Danton of Den Kilsek? The name came to him like information written on his dockets. He was a powerful captain of the Echo Knights, one of the High General’s right hand men. A handsome drow, with a sharp smile and an intuitive talent for swordplay. Consecuted, and on his second life. He was also a stringent member of the faction who wished to erase the Empire from Wildemount.

“Why should I do that?” Essek asked her.

“I agreed to allow him to court you, of course,” Mother said. “He came to me the other day, quite taken with your eyes which ‘are as silver as the gossamer thread of the Luxon’s power’. He swore, he saw you smile ‘a smile as delicate as the sliver of the waning moon’. Really, it was quite touching. I didn’t know him to be so poetic. Now, I would prefer you just to marry a woman, your talents are simply too powerful not to pass on. But, I know you have your preferences, so I figured this would be an acceptable offer to you.”

“Dierta, Essek--”

Essek yanked his arm from his mother’s grip. Her husband and the family around them gaped, including her mother who took in a breath like Essek had slapped her.

“I shall go in by myself,” Essek told the Master of Ceremonies, who looked like getting involved in the family drama was the last thing he wanted. But he gave Essek a solemn nod before stepping out and allowing his voice to carry.

“Shadowhand Essek Theylss, of Den Theylss!”

Essek walked out, down the stairs, facing the sea of people alone.

#critical role #critical role fanfic #shadowgast #essek theylss #caleb widogast

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hi-i-love-u-bitch · 6 years

Text

Rest, Relaxation, & Kisses (a Mario AU)

Me??? Writing another one shot for @sugarglider9603 Mario Au in the middle of the night because I couldn’t sleep??? More likely then you think!!! Based on that one ask I saw, ENJOY!!!

It was rare that the princes had a completely free day to themselves, what with running a kingdom and the occasional kidnapping by Bowceit. Though even that was becoming a rarity ever since he and Prince Remy, a somewhat literal god of time and space, had started dating. Now Bowceit sometimes only kidnapped them out of boredom or if he needed a quick babysitter for the Danger Noodles. But even then, it wasn’t that bad.

Given that they now had a day off Roman seized this opportunity to have a royal spa day with Patton and Remy (who had also decided he needed a day off). He and Patton would have gladly spent their day off with their boyfriends but at the moment two plumbers in question were still attending to some business in the Ice Kingdom. So, a day of pampering as they waited for their beloveds it was then.

They had set up camp in Roman’s room, piles of blankets and pillows spread out amongst his larger then king size bed, along with plenty of snacks, nail polish, and other beauty essentials. The princes had all opted to change into pajamas, hair held back by headbands and pins, each with a different type of mud mask. A truly unprincely sight to behold but they didn’t care, it was their day off.

“So, you really got Bowceit to babysit ALL your Lumas?” Roman asked, adding another coat of pain over the space prince’s toes.

“Mmh, they actually listen to him, the little shits,” Remy replied, taking an extra long sip from his ever-present Starbucks cup “but I can’t blame them, he’s real sweet to them. It’s super cute seeing a giant lizard man be really soft around a bunch of kids.”

“His one and only redeeming quality,” Patton said, a bit passive aggressively as he blew on his drying finger nails.

“Patton, throwing shade? And at my man?” Remy gasped dramatically “I’d never thought I’d see the day!”

“Well I’m allowed to,” Patton pouted “it’s only fair after being kidnapped by him time and time again.”

“Agreed.” Roman replied without looking up from his work.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Remy shrugged, taking another sip of coffee “I have been trying to get him into the habit of asking you guys to babysit for us instead of kidnapping you then asking. We’re getting there, slowly, but we’re getting there.”

“You know, he ruined my date with Virgil because of that?” Roman huffed bitterly “The one-time Verg agrees to go out dancing, at a festival mind you, and Bowceit has to come in and ruin it!”

“Tell me about it,” Patton whined “I was finally able to convince Lo to go to the tavern with me to do karaoke!”

“I would really like to spend a night in actually,” Remy sighed “but Bowsy and I’s schedules usually don’t match up and when they do, he feels guilty and wants to do something big and romantic and take me out. Plus, the kids get really rowdy and excited whenever they finally get to see the Danger Noodles again.”

“Ever think about doing a family night?” Patton suggested, stuffing a few cooking in his mouth.

“Gurl, have you seen the amount of kids we have?” Remy scoffed “How the hell are we gunna get them organized enough to pull that off?”

“I mean, you said they listen to Bowceit the best,” Roman replied, moving to Remy’s other foot “I’m sure he won’t mind lending a hand. He’d probably be all for this idea and do it in a heartbeat.”

“I know he would,” Remy sighed “but it’s just that ever since he’s stopped obsessing over you two, he’s finally been taking his royal duties seriously. He’s made good progress and he’s using his one free day today to babysit the kids so that I can hang with you guys. I really don’t want to distract him now that he’s got a good flow going on.”

“Trust us, he probably needs a day of to properly spend time with his kids and you.” Roman assured.

“I guess,” Remy hummed “what about you two though?”

“What about us?” Patton asked, now moving on to the fudge brownies.

“Think you can convince the Sarcastic Dorks to go out with you guys again?” Remy explained.

“Mmm, Virgil doesn’t really do ‘social’ activities much,” Roman admitted, a small drop of disappointment clear on his face “he’s very introverted and we usually do quiet dates like going on walks or spending time lazing inside.”

“Same with Logan,” Patton said glumly “we go on the occasional picnic for lunch sometimes near the meadows. But I’d really like for us to go on vacation, just for a day or two, maybe to the beach or to go hiking.”

“Then why don’t you?” Remy questioned “I mean, I’m sure the Talyns and Thomases could handling things around here for a couple of days.”

“We know,” Roman admitted begrudgingly “but I really don’t want to pressure my little storm cloud to do something he isn’t comfortable with. He’s already so wound up all the time I don’t want to force him into a social situation he doesn’t want.”

Patton nodded in agreement, “Logan always has trouble relaxing, he has to constantly be doing something or else he’ll get all fidgety. He can really get wrapped up in his own head.”

“Sound like the perfect reason for you guys to go on vacation,” Remy said, waving his coffee cup to emphasize his point “like, they’re used to being on the lookout for Bowceit to capture you, right? Well, now that that’s not happening…much anymore you need to get them to loosen up a bit.”

The princes thought a moment, their boyfriends did seem a bit more jittery then usual as of late. They’ve taking to joining the royal council and lending out their services to help out other kingdoms however ways they can. That and they were still the local plumbers in their home town which they still actively worked in. If they really thought about it their boyfriends had just as much, if not more, work to do as they did.

“I guess you’re right,” Patton hummed thoughtfully “but how in the world are we going to convince them to take a break?”

The three princes were quiet again, silently mauling over ideas that could potentially work to convince their boyfriends to take a vacation with them. They didn’t want to force them to do something they didn’t want to do, they wanted their lovers to come to their own conclusion. Though maybe they were a bit too dense for that, perhaps a little nudge in the right direction would be okay. A bit of persuasion, a bit of…seduction.

Remy smiled big and wide, the gears in his head working madly, “Gurls, I’ve got a plan.”

---

Logan had been informed by a flying messenger that he was to meet at Patton at his castle as soon as he got back. He had been planning to do so anyways, always eager to spend time with his love, but this time it was a bit more urgency. The message didn’t specify why which made Logan all the more worried but he couldn’t be sure it was something bad just like he couldn’t be sure it was something good too.

As soon as he busted into the castle, a bit frazzled and nervous, he was consoled by a Talyn and Thomas who assured him that the prince was fine, and just had a surprise picnic ready for them in the garden. Finally, able to calm down Logan was then escorted out back to the garden where he found his beloved waiting for him with a feast spread out under their favorite shady tree.

“Sorry it took so long, my sweet,” Logan apologized, settling himself down on the blanket “the Ice Kingdom was just a-a-a…”

Logan was finally able to get a good look at Patton and holy shit his brain short circuiting now. Patton was wearing a baggy blue sweater under a pink overall skirt that reached mid-thigh with a kitty face on the front, thigh high white socks with pink and blue paw prints decorating the edges, and pretty blue flats. His crown had been replaced by a garland of pink and blue sweet peas which matched the soft makeup highlighting his round face. You could barely tell that the prince was wearing any makeup at all, though his cheeks did look more rosy and his eyes more vibrant and his lips more pink and shiny.

“Logi?” Patton called out to him, head tilted like a curious puppy “Is everything okay?”

Patton had to play this right if he even had a slime chance at getting Logan to agree to go on vacation with him. He wasn’t the best at seduction like Roman or even Remy but he was cute and sweet, a much more dangerous asset to have. Patton wasn’t dumb, he was a diplomatic leader and sometimes talking things out wasn’t enough. Sometimes you had to bat your eyes and smile sweetly or tear up a bit and play the innocent victim to get what you want out of people. And at this point Patton wasn’t above doing all of that and more just to get Logan to take a break.

“F-fine!” Logan sputtered out “Everything’s fine, i-it’s just…you look nice.”

Bingo.

Patton’s smile was as bright as ever, “Aw, thank you Lo. Me and the boys had a spa day today and then Ro wanted to do makeovers. I didn’t want anything too extravagant, just something cute and casual to relax in with you.”

“Yes, of course,” Logan said, clearing his throat “sorry I couldn’t spend the day with you my love, the council seems to be busier than ever it seems.”

“It’s okay Logi,” Patton said sweetly, snuggling up against his boyfriend’s side “so long as you’re hear now that’s all that matters.”

Logan could only nod, the cuteness of his boyfriend being way too much for him at the moment. Not that Patton wasn’t always cute but the whole outfit he was wearing at the moment just kind of emphasized everything about him. Though maybe Patton was acting a bit more cuddly and playful then normal but it wasn’t like Logan was gunna complain about it.

Patton knew this all too well and was not afraid to exploit all of his boyfriend’s weaknesses to play him like a fiddle.

“Oh, actually, I have a surprise,” Patton said excitingly, reaching over to grab a certain plate “I made your favorite cake! Look, I even made it mini so it’s like you’re eating the whole thing, plus it makes it extra cute.”

Logan gave his boyfriend a fond smile, moving forward to kiss his forehead, “Thank you, love.”

Patton giggled, a sweater paw hiding his dopy smile and dark blush, “It’s no problem Lo, you’ve seem so stressed lately it’s the least I can do.”

“Yes, well, I have been a little busy,” Logan sighed “but I’m fine, just need to find a good rhythm to move along to.”

“Or maybe you could take a break,” Patton said innocently, grabbing a fork to cut into the cake and bringing the piece to Logan’s mouth “Say ah~”

Logan blushed a deep scarlet, swallowing thickly, but complied with his boyfriend’s wishes. He chewed as he continued to speak, “I can’t possibly do that Patton, there’s far too much work to be done.”

“I’m sure the Thomases and Talyns could handle themselves for a few days,” Patton assured, feeding his boyfriend another piece of cake “they’ve done so in the past long before you or Virgil came along. I mean sure, things have been a bit more organized now that you two are here but I’m pretty sure it won’t fall into chaos if you miss a day or two.”

“I know love,” Logan sighed tiredly “it’s just-”

“You have cake on your face.” Patton giggled, gesturing vaguely with his fork. There wasn’t really but Logan didn’t need to know that.

“Where?” Logan asked, rubbing at his cheek to remove the non-existing crumbs.

“Riiiight there!” Patton jump to give a quick peck to the corner of Logan’s mouth, sitting back down with a giggle and a mischievous smile. The prince admired the pink lipstick stain against his boyfriend’s skin that matched well with the pretty blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Uh…d-did you get it?” Logan stuttered out, knowing full well that there had been nothing on his face but what else could he say in a situation such as this.

Patton smiled that same mischievous smile, putting aside his plate and fork as he leaned forward and quietly murmured, “Not quite.”

He gave a gentle kiss to Logan’s lips but didn’t linger for long as he moved to kiss the other corner of his mouth, then his cheek and the tip of his nose and his forehead. Pretty soon Patton found himself straddled across his boyfriend’s lap smothering every inch of his face and neck with kisses, leaving a trail of lipstick stains in his wake. Sometimes he would linger a moment at a certain spot on Logan’s face or sometimes he’d give off a rapid-fire tail of kisses or sometimes he’d look to see where he hadn’t kissed Logan yet and make sure to leave his mark there. After a few minutes the prince pulled back to admire his work; Logan looked absolutely lovestruck, smiling like a fool and unknowing of Patton’s handy work on his face. Well, at least Patton thinks Logan doesn’t know if he did, he made no show of minding it at all.

“Hey Lo,” Patton purred, carefully cupping his boyfriend’s face so as not to smug his work before leaning forward to give him a long slow kiss.

“Hmm?” Logan hummed in response, much too drunk on affection to answer properly.

“I was wondering,” Patton smirked, trailing kisses under Logan’s chin “maybe you and I…” behind his ear “could go to the beach this weekend…” on his brow “maybe a bit longer…” over his collar bone “just for a couple days…” another long slow kiss, smiling as he finds Logan trailing after him “wouldn’t it be nice?”

“Mm-ha.” Logan sighed dreamily.

“Just you and me…” Patton cooed, gently pecking Logan’s lips over and over again “alone at a beach house, warm sun and cool water.” He pauses his affectionate assault on his boyfriend’s face so he could lean back and pout “But I mean, you’re really busy so I don’t know if we can.”

“Huh?” Logan’s happy love daze started to fade a bit as he took in his lover’s large brown puppy dog eyes. Logan had a hard time saying no to those eyes on a normal day but right now, so filled with love and affection and kisses it made him dizzy, Patton had him wrapped around his little finger.

“I don’t want to pull you away from important work,” Patton said bashfully “but I really wish we could go. We’re both so busy now and I miss you a lot.”

“I-I miss you too,” Logan finally stuttered out, it took a great deal of effort to say “but we have-”

“I know we both have important duties to attend too,” Patton cut in, batting his lashes “but wouldn’t it be okay just to take a little brake? Just a teeny tiny one? You won’t even notice we’re gone.”

Logan gulped, his resolve quickly dropping, he was a weak man in love with an adorable prince with large doe eyes and a cute pout how the hell do you expect him to act logically in this situation, damn it? “I-I, uh…”

“Please Logi Bear,” Patton purred, snuggling in close and giving Logan another slow, long kiss “for me?”

Logan truly was a weak man, he was also a tired man whose kind of been burying himself in extra work to compensate for all the pent-up energy he had in him due to the lack of Bowceit fights. Why was it so bad to go on a short vacation? He’s been wanting to spend some more time with Patton but he just kept adding more and more work onto his plate, thinking he could finish it all on time. It was ridiculous.

“I guess…a vacation sounds good.” Logan admitted softly.

Patton squealed in delight, lunging forward to tackle his boyfriend in a hug as he once more covered every inch of his face in kisses.

---

Virgil was having trouble breathing but not in a bad way, he thinks. When Logan had rushed off to Patton’s castle, he was a bit worried there could be danger a foot. Though Roman hadn’t sent word about so it could just be Logan blowing things out of proportion, which was kind of funny since it’s usually Virgil doing that. Still, his brother had been a bit more jumpy as of late and he along with him. Not that they weren’t grateful that Bowceit had now stopped trying to kidnap their boyfriends and force them into marriage it’s just when you become accustomed to something like that happening weekly your body has no idea what to do with all its wound-up energy once it stops.

So, maybe he and Logan were working a bit over time just to let out some of that pent-up energy. It gave them something to do and in turn let them help a lot of people. But it may have also unintentionally caused them to neglect their boyfriends and whenever they do get together one or both parties are just so tired, they have not effort to do anything let alone go out. It’s kind of been eating away at Virgil for a while now and he really did want to make it up to Roman some way but he was always too piled up with work so he kept pushing it back, swearing up and down he’d do it soon.

Unbeknownst to him it wasn’t soon enough for Roman.

Which is the cause of Virgil not being able to breath because when he walked into the thrown room, where it was said his boyfriend was waiting for him, he was met with a gorgeous sight. There Roman sat on his thrown reading a book, legs crossed and wearing a high waisted red skirt, an off the shoulder black and white long sleeve crop top, and black ankle heel boots. His hair was curled and done up in such a way that it framed the prince is face perfectly, making way for the sparkly hoop earrings he wore. His makeup was subtle save for the smoky red, black and gold eyeshadow and champagne red lipstick.

Roman casually looked up from his reading and smirked when he caught Virgil staring. Virgil squeaked and flushed a pretty pink, embarrassed at having been seen and quickly flipped up his hood to cover the majority of his face. Roman made a show of closing his book and setting it aside so that he could stretch his arms skyward, a sliver of skin peeking out as his shirt rose up. The purple clad plumber made it super obvious that he was trying not to stare, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground until he caught sight of Roman’s boots then up his legs and skirt and waist and he was staring again, damn it.

Roman chuckled teasingly, striking a dramatic pose, “You like? Patton, Remy and I decided to treat our self to a spa and makeover day.”

“Y-yeah, I see.” Virgil murmured, having found his shoes very interesting.

Roman’s shoulders drooped, a pout starting to form on his lips, “You don’t like it.”

“N-no, no, I do, I really do!” Virgil assured quickly, making the mistake of looking back up at Roman and now he couldn’t look away. “I-it’s just – I just – a-and you’re just…”

“I’m just?” Roman corked and eyebrow, desperately trying to suppress the giggle bubbling up in his chest.

“You…look…” Virgil gulped, fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie “…g-gorgeous.”

“Aw, Verg,” Roman giggled, a warm blush spreading across his cheeks, it was always nice to hear praise on his looks, especially from Virgil who said it with such sincere honesty “can I get my hello hug and kiss now?”

“Um…” Virgil felt his face on fire as he nodded and shuffled over towards his prince is waiting arms. He briefly wondered if the heels Roman had on would make for an awkward hug given their height difference. Virgil was already short as it is and he still sometimes had to tip toe up to kiss Roman’s face, if the prince was feeling merciful that day, he might bend down to meet him.

But of course, that didn’t happen because as soon as Virgil was close enough Roman pulled him onto his lap and snuggled into his chest. Virgil squeaked in surprise, blush returning to his cheeks, but soon relaxed into the embrace, burying his face into the crook of Roman’s neck. It was nice, Virgil forgot how much he missed Roman’s over the top hugs. The prince always seemed to wrap around him like a blanket, occasionally swaying them back and forth to some unheard musical beat.

“I missed you.” Roman murmured softly, a hand running through Virgil’s hair to push back his hood.

“I missed you too.” Virgil hummed, cuddling closer into Roman’s warm embrace.

They held onto each other for a while, content to quietly bask in each other’s presents. They really hadn’t been able to spend any good quality time together like this. To truly unwind and relax together without worrying about work or responsibilities or Bowceit kidnapping them because he needs a babysitter.

Roman was the first to pull away but only briefly as he quickly returned to cup Virgil’s face and slot their mouths together in a long passionate kiss. Virgil yelped in surprise but soon melted into the kiss, firmly gripping onto his prince is broad shoulders. He missed this too, he missed everything about Roman but up until he met the prince, he had deprived himself of physical and emotional affection for so long. Roman spoiled him with love and praise and hugs and kisses and Virgil didn’t think much of it until he was suddenly left high and dry again because he couldn’t pull himself away from his work.

The kiss left Virgil’s heart full and his head foggy with sweetness and affection and Roman really enjoyed the blissed out look Virgil had as well as the crooked lipstick stain left on his mouth. Roman chuckled fondly as he moved to kiss his boyfriend again and again, traveling from his mouth to his cheeks to his nose, forehead, under his chin, neck, and any other place on his face that was free. All the while he lovingly whispered and cooed words of praise and love against his lover’s skin hoping that maybe they could engrave themselves into his soul.

“You work so hard my love…” Roman cooed, pressing a soft kiss under Virgil’s right eye “helping people every day…” his chin “you’re amazing…” the bridge of his nose “you’re wonderful.”

Virgil could only hum contently, all too willing to melt into a mushy puddle of blissed out affection for which Roman could do as he pleased. The prince was all too happy to continue showering his beloved in praise and kisses, Virgil hadn’t been this relaxed in a long while which only served to motivate Roman even more to push for a vacation.

“And because you’ve worked so hard…” Roman continued, returning to Virgil’s lips “helping the council get in order…” kiss “attending meeting after meeting…” kiss “I thought that maybe…” kiss “me and you could possibly…” kiss…kiss…kiss “take a vacation?” kiss “Just for a few days…” kiss “I have cozy little cabin…” kiss “near a ski lodge in Ice land…” kiss “what do you think?”

Virgil couldn’t answer right away since Roman decided to pull them into another slow, passionate filled kiss that made him wonder why he never thought about taking vacation with Roman before? Like, what was stopping him? Why did he have to think about this for so long when he could be using that time to be with Roman? It sounded like a wonderful idea.

“So?” Roman hummed, breathless after parting from their kiss.

Virgil gave him a dopy, foolish smile, eye lids droopy and heavy with bliss as he gazed lovingly at his boyfriend. He giggled breathlessly, “M’kay.”

“Really?” Roman exclaimed, half surprised Virgil caved so easily and half excited.

“Mmh.” Virgil hummed, leaning foreword to capture his lover’s lips in his once more. This time it was Roman who was caught off guard but he was quick to enthusiastically return the kiss, plus a few extra to show Virgil how happy he was.

---

Remy arrived at the familiar lava filled castle in record time, he didn’t want to leave Bowceit alone with the kids more then he had too. As he walked through the castle looking for his boyfriend and their kids he couldn’t help but smirk as he noticed the lingering stares and glances he was receiving from Bowciet’s minions. Remy couldn’t blame them though, he did look hot. He had on a white chloe crop top, black high waist shorts, a knitted cream-colored kimono that slipped off his shoulders and bunched up at his elbows, and cute flowery sandals. His was swooped back and pined with golden stary clips and matching dangly earrings. He didn’t do much with his make ups since he’d still be wearing his trade more circular shades but he opted for a natural summery look, warm browns and creams for eyeshadow. The only thing remotely eccentric was the icy blue lipstick delicately painted on his mouth.

He finally reached the play room where he found his Lumas along with the Danger Noodles napping together in a giant cuddle pile with pillows and blankets covering the floor. A few guards stood watch near the exits but there was no Bowceit in sight. It wasn’t uncommon for Bowceit to leave the kids in the care of the guards once they’ve settled down enough so he could take a quick break. But given his track record as of late Bowceit was more then likely working in his office.

“Remy?” The prince paused to look down and acknowledge a drowsy Junior slithering up to him “When’d you get back?”

“Just a little while ago, go back to sleep baby.” Remy whispered sweetly, running a gentle hand over the little snake’s scales.

“Why are you dressed up so pretty?” He asked with a yawn, stubborn much like his father.

“It’s a little surprise for your daddy,” Remy winked playfully “have you seen him?”

The little snake nodded tiredly, “Yeah, he said he was gunna finish up some boring royal business stuff. Are you two gunna go out on another grown up date?”

The slight hint of sadness in the little snake’s voice made Remy’s heart ach and he was certain that Bowceit felt the same way. Not that Remy and him didn’t enjoy their alone time but the Boopa King really has busy. The prince could see it in his eyes how much he missed his kids but he also missed Remy and since he’s never been in a proper relationship before Bowceit has no idea how to balance out his love life and his family life. Remy understood that and he wanted Bowceit to know that he understood that and was willing to adapt into a routine that benefits both their lives.

“Not exactly,” Remy replied “I was thinking maybe we could have a bit of a family game night, all of us together. What do you think?”

Junior wiggled excitedly, “Yeah, that sounds great! But…what if dad’s too busy?”

“You just leave that to me sweetie,” Remy smiled coyly, kissing the top of the little noodle’s head “go back to sleep doll, I’ll wake you when I come back, okay?”

After tugging the little noddle back into the warm cuddle pile Remy strutted his way down the castle hall, more determined then ever. He didn’t really put a lot of effort into many things in life, I mean, he is the cosmic prince of the universe he could just make things happen with a wave of his hand, but sometimes there were times that wasn’t enough and you needed to roll up your sleeves and get down and dirty. And in this context “down and dirty” meant seducing your giant lizard boyfriend to take a break and spend time with his family.

He burst into his boyfriend’s office unannounced, as always, with eccentric fanfare that would make Roman jealous. But of course, Bowceit was use to this by now so he didn’t bother to look up from the paperwork he was reading at his desk. Remy sighed, took a sip of his coffee, relaxed his shoulders, and lazily walked over walked over towards the Boopa King. He casually drapes himself over Bowceit’s shoulder scanning over the mountain of paper work overflowing the desk.

“Whatcha doing, hon?” Remy hummed.

“Just going over a few contracts and treaties,” Bowceit replied, scribbling down a few notes “the kids are all asleep in the play room if your wondering. How was your day?”

“It was nice,” Remy said, pressing his cheek against the back of Bowceit’s broad shoulder “we had a bit of a spa day, gossiped a bit, a few makeovers, it was fun. How ‘bout you? How were the kids?”

“The kids were fine,” Bowceit said distantly “although the Lumas wanted to play up in the rafters again so if you see a few of them covered in soot and cobwebs just know that’s what happened. I was planning on bathing them later after they woke up.”

“Mmh, if I knew they were gunna cause trouble like this I wouldn’t have left them here for you to stress over.” Remy said guiltily, rubbing over his boyfriend’s other shoulder with his hand. He felt the tense muscles under his fingers relax a bit and a soft content sigh slipping past his lover’s lips. That’s when Remy got an idea. Standing up straight and beginning to slowly massage over Bowceit’s shoulders, something casual and slow so as not to cause too much suspicion.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Bowceit assured, relaxing further under Remy’s dancing fingers “it’s not easy being prince of the universe and a father, I’d imagine you don’t get very many breaks. It’s the least I can do to help in some small way.”

“Aw, baby your so sweet to me,” Remy cooed, rotating his thumb into a particularly tense spot on Bowceit’s back, causing the lizard man in front of him to practically purr “but you know, you’re a ruler and a father a well. Don’t you think you deserve some time off too?”

“No, no, I couldn’t possibly,” Bowceit hummed, his voice started to slur and his movements became slower “I have way too much to do, having dedicated several years to chasing after Patton and Roman has put me behind on my royal duties. I’m barely just starting to catch up and I can’t start slacking off now.”

“I think you’ve caught up plenty,” Remy assured him “the kingdom won’t crumble if you take a day off. Plus, I miss you and your kids miss you too.”

At the mention of his children Bowceit became tense once again, guilt heavy at the pit of his stomach. He’d really had been neglecting spending proper time with his kids, but after turning over a whole new leaf he didn’t want his kids to see him as a prince obsessed, tyrannical ruler but as a responsible, confident leader. So, he got his shit together and finally started putting some work into running his kingdom properly. It had been a much bigger task then he had anticipated but that did not deter him from work hard and stabilizing his kingdom. He was afraid that if he stopped now, he’d slip back into his old habits.

“I miss you all as well,” Bowceit admitted “but I still have-”

“Oh, you still haven’t seen my new outfit!” Remy interrupted before Bowceit could even finish his sentence. He had to keep Bowceit’s mind off his work and doubts for Remy to even have a slight chance at convincing him. So, he quickly spun his boyfriend’s chair around to face him stepping back to slowly turn and show off his outfit. “You like?”

Bowceit’s cheeks dusted a light pink as he openly gawked at his beautiful boyfriend, “Y-yes, you look lovely.”

“I know,” Remy chuckled, taking a step closer toward Bowceit “it gets pretty warm here, what with the lava and junk, so I decided to go for a bit of a summer look. Though any place gets really warm with you around.”

Remy winked and Bowceit sputtered, “I – it, um…”

“What’s the matter Bowsy?” Remy chuckled, settling in-between Bowceit’s legs as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck “Piranha plant got your tongue?”

“C-certainly not,” Bowceit cleared his throat, placing his hands firmly on Remy’s waist, they were so large they almost completely covered his entire torso “It’s just…sometimes it takes a while to find words to properly describe your beauty.”

Now it was Remy’s turn to blush but his smirk still remained, “That’s real cheesy babe.”

Sometimes Bowceit has a tendency to unintentionally say the sweetest things, unknowing as to how they effected Remy. Contrary to what most people think Remy wasn’t the most emotionally affectionate person in the relationship, physical affection was no big deal to him, he’s all for snuggles and kisses, but it was hard to truly let himself be vulnerable with someone. Bowceit has gone through enough turmoil in his life to just not have the effort to put up wall anymore. It was strange to have someone openly love you so fiercely but it slowly gave Remy the confidence he needed to open up, bit by bit.

“You love it when I’m cheesy.” Bowceit shot back, a soft smile on his face.

“I do, really.” Remy admitted, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on his boyfriend’s lips.

Bowceit hummed, lips stained with ice blue and eyes closed contently, “Mmh, that’s nice…do it again.”

“What this?” Remy teased, giving his boyfriend another kiss, this one much slower and more passionate.

“Yeah, that, keep doing that.” Bowceit sighed dreamily.

“As you wish your majesty.” Remy chuckled, ducking down to kiss Bowceit once again, moving up towards his high cheek bones where scales met skin. The ice blue stains Remy left against his boyfriend’s skin contrasted greatly with his even tan and green scales but it still looked quiet lovely to the space prince. So, Remy continued, peppering kisses up Bowceit’s forehead, under his chin, around his neck, and where ever else he could reach on his face.

Bowceit was now fully purring, a deep rumbling vibrating against his chest as he pulled his lover closer towards him. You’d think living in deep space would make Remy cold to the touch but it’s because he lives day to day alongside a bunch of literal stars that he practically radiates warmth. Being that Bowceit is part reptile he enjoys this immensely, always looking for an excuse to cuddle or kiss his boyfriend, it was like having your own personal furnace. A burning ember sitting in his lap, tracing sparks of warmth across his face.

“But in all seriousness, you really should take a break,” Remy murmured, rubbing his thumb over a particularly sensitive patch of scales on Bowceit’s neck “we don’t even need to go out, we could have a nice night in with the kids.”

Remy placed a gentle kiss over both of Bowceit’s eyelids, “A nice nap, maybe a few boardgames and snacks, we could have a sleep over in the living room. What do you think?”

“That sounds nice…” Bowceit purred, though Remy sensed there was a “but” coming in and he snubbed it out immediately.

“I talked to Junior earlier,” Remy whispered against his boyfriend’s mouth “he and the Boopalings seem to really miss you and when I asked if they wanted to have a family night, he got so excited. He’s probably already woken up the others and told them and I don’t want to have to be the one to break their little hearts that I couldn’t keep my word.”

Bowceit whined a bit, the thought of his children in any kind of distress because of him did not settle well with his stomach. But he still had so much to do…but then again, Remy had already promised the kids they would. It would be bad if a prince had to go back on his promise and Bowceit did turn a new leaf and wanted to set a good example for his kids. How completely un-kingly of him to skip out on plans that have already been arranged, he honestly had no choice really. The kingdom would just have to function without him for a day or two…maybe three.

“I mean…” Bowceit shifted in his seat, pulling Remy closer still as the prince continued to pepper kisses over his face “you did already make arrangements, so it’s to be expected of us to attend.”

“Of course,” Remy smirked, playing along with his boyfriend’s train of thought “it be inappropriate of us not to.”

“Plus, I’ve gotten most of my work sorted,” Bowceit hummed, guiding Remy’s lips towards his “the kingdom can function without me for a day or two.”

“Mmh, maybe three?” Remy asked hopefully, might as well push for more now that he has Bowceit so complacent.

“Why not?” Bowceit smiled, gazing lovingly at his lover’s sparkling eyes “But…maybe I need a little bit more convincing.”

Remy chuckled as he leaned forward to embrace his lover once more, slow, passionate, and warm.

---

The sun was warm against Logan’s skin, as for the rough, glittery sand underneath him. The birds chirped over head and the waves crashed in beautiful melodic harmony, pushing and pulling grains of sand and sea shells. He heard Patton call his name as well as the careful but quick paced footsteps trailing behind him, crunching down on the sand.

He turned to his beloved, smile still brighter then the sun shining down on them, as he sat down beside Logan and handed him a fruity tropical drink. A typical coconut cup with a fruit skewer, tiny umbrella, and swirly straw, it was definitely delicious.

Patton hummed in delight as he downed half his drink, “So good!”

“Isn’t that your third one?” Logan teased, lazily sipping his drink.

“But they’re so delicious,” Patton pouted, a pink blush blooming over his cheeks “plus we’re on vacation, I get to enjoy myself without anyone judging me, thank you very much.”

“Of course, love,” Logan chuckled “just don’t complain when your bladder’s full and you need to go all the way back to the beach to use the bathroom.”

Patton stuck his tongue out in an adorably childish manner, “Meanie!”

Logan laughed, leaning forward to kiss his boyfriend’s nose whose face scrunched up like a cute bunny rabbit. Patton giggled as he leaned up to returned the gesture and of course Logan just had to give him another kiss back as did Patton and so on and so forth. Their drinks were soon forgotten as they happily lounged against the sand sharing sweet kisses.

---

Virgil watched the snow outside fall like dancing jewels as he wrapped the thick quilt blanket more tightly around him. He was sitting on a wide reading nook in the living room of the cabin with a large stone fire place taking center stage of it all. It crackled and roared with scorching embers, covering the house in a cloudy, cozy warmth that kept out the bitter cold of the outside.

The blanket’s shifted beside him and Virgil turned to find Roman, clad in wool socks and sweats, snuggling up against him as he handed Virgil a cup of hot coco with tiny marshmallows. Virgil silently hummed his thanks as he helped Roman readjust the blankets around them, once more cocooning them both in gentle warmth.

The purple clad plumber took a careful sip of his drink and moaned in delight, “This is great, Ro.”

“Only the best for my little storm cloud,” Roman said sweetly, attending to his own drink “I borrowed the recipe from Patton before we left as well as a few others. I was thinking of trying out a bit of apple cider later on, what do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Virgil pondered playfully “hot chocolate and marshmallows are a snowy vacation staple, how can it ever be topped?”

“I’m guessing that you’ve never had Patton’s famous apple cider,” Roman said haughtily “though I can’t say for certain that it tops his hot chocolate but it does go great with apple pie.”

“You’re trying to make me fat, aren’t you?” Virgil chuckled.

“We’re on vacation, darling, no one’s gunna mind,” Roman teased, leaning over to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek “that’ll just make you more tempting to cuddle.”

“You’re a jerk.” Virgil laughed, turning to kiss his prince’s lips.

---

“Do you have any fours?” Bowceit asked.

Everyone was gathered in the living room, dressed in their pajamas and surrounded by piles of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals. Remy, Bowceit, and a few of the Danger Noodles and Lumas sat around the coffee table playing go-fish while the rest that couldn’t fit crowded around them to either watch or help out their favorite.

“Nope, go-fish daddy!” Wendy giggled.

“Oof, you might be on a losing streak today, babe.” Remy chuckled, snuggling close to his boyfriend and petting over the Luma sitting on his lap shuffling through his cards.

Bowceit frowned, bringing his cards closer to his face, allowing Junior, who was draped over his father’s neck to looked over them. The Boopa King turned towards his son expectantly, “What do we got son?”

“Mmh, I think Remy’s right dad,” Junior said grimly “but it’s to be expected, Wendy is a total viper.”

“Of course, I’m a viper dumb-dumb!” Wendy scoffed.

“Dad! Wendy called me a dumb-dumb!” Junior whined.

“Wendy, be nice to your brother.” Bowceit scolded gently, though he was desperately trying to suppress a fond smile threatening to break through.

“She is going to grow up to have a smart mouth when she’d older.” Remy tutted playfully.

“Well, she doesn’t exactly have the best influence.” Bowceit smirked with a raised eyebrow.

“Babe!” Remy gasped dramatically, a hand to his chest “How could you! I am a delight!”

The Boopa King rolled his eyes fondly at the space prince, leaning close to whisper, “Of forgive me my prince, how can I ever make it up to you?”

“Mmh, I can think of a few ways.” Remy purred as he leaned up to place a sweet kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. A chorus of groans and “ew!” filled the room causing both men to burst out into pearls of laughter. They kissed again out of spite.

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