#my mother did it in the kitchen by hand with the sharp piercing jewelry

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

Cold Skins and Warm Hearts [Savage Opress x Fem!Reader x Darth Maul]

Notes: I’m sorry that it took so long Anon, I also now realize that a cuddle pile is something different but I hope it’s still somewhat what you expected and you like it :)

Fandom: Star Wars

Warnings: Fluff, slight OOC, Swearing, Mention of Death

Word Count: 6107

Summary: Maul and his brother are looking for a kybercrystal for his new lightsaber on Ilum. With the help of an Ex-Jedi they are able to infiltrate the caves and steal a crystal from a padawan. All goes well until the sun sets and they are trapped inside the caves. To survive they huddle together and while warmth spreads in their bodies something else blooms in the hearts of the two brothers...

________

"What foul joke is this supposed to be?!"

"I'm also not keen on working with you, but I have to pay a debt. So shut up and accept this, Sith."

The human woman returned his glare, and Maul had to question the sanity of his own mother. A Jedi working with his brother and him? It really sounded like a jest. He would rather get cut in half again than go on the mission with this... rather attractive belligerent insect. 

"She reeks," commented Savage, and he agreed with his brother.

It was apparent that their supposedly new companion was a light side force user. Her disgustingly sweet stench and blinding force presence were proof enough. 

"I'm not with the Jedi Order anymore if you're worried about that. I don't give a shit about you two. Or any other dark side user. Like I said, I'm only here to return a favor I owe your mother. So stop fussing, and let's go." 

Savage took a step forward, and the force around him pulsed in anger. Maul gave him a warning look.

"Then why are you doing this? What's in it for you?"

Y/N L/N nodded at Savage's dual-bladed lightsaber.

"The same that's in for you. A kybercristal. Plus, a safe place to stay."

Her e/c eyes traveled to the ruins of Dathomir, and the corner of her lips twitched. Maul and Savage only narrowed their eyes when the woman smiled at the silent remains of their former lives.

The red Zabrak sighed and then pointed at her.

"We will go with you. But don't even think about betraying us. Only a fool would challenge two trained Sith."

She rolled her eyes and walked past both him and his brother towards the ship she brought with her. Her shiny h/c hair swayed slightly in the hot wind of Dathomir. 

Oh, that smell was definitely the repulsive stench of the Light Side.

.

Besides Savage's mocking remark about the age of the ship at the beginning of their journey, none of them said a word during their flight in the old freighter. 

While Y/N navigated her ship towards Ilum, he and his brother stayed in the separate rooms the woman kindly provided them with. 

Savage paced in his cabin while Maul studied the interior in his. From what he saw openly displayed, it technically wasn't his room; in fact, the former Jedi seemed to sleep in it. 

There were some indicators. For example, the clothes that laid on a metal chair in the corner, all neatly stacked but together forming a rather big pile. Or the open box with jewelry, something the Zabrak wouldn't have believed a Jedi could own. But it did appear like the woman told the truth when she said she wasn't with the Jedi anymore.

There was one thing that definitely convinced him. The darkness in the force that pulsed in the right corner of the room. 

Maul reached out with the force to see if Y/N was still in the cockpit and when he felt her in the same spot, he stood up from the bed and then walked up to the commode from where the dark energy radiated. He opened the first drawer, and his eyes widened slightly when he caught sight of a slick black pyramidal-shaped holocron.

"The former Jedi has a dirty little secret," he murmured and reached out with his hand. He wanted to touch the sith holocron, but as soon as his fingertip grazed it, a sharp pain bolted through his arm. 

Maul clicked his tongue in annoyance and bewilderment about the fact that he, a Sith, couldn't touch the device. He reached out again, this time trying to concentrate on the flow of the force, when he got interrupted by a voice of the speakers:

"We'll land during night time. The Jedi padawans and the master tasked with observing them will be arriving in the morning, which means we have some time to scout. If you want to get some rest feel free to do so. We won't reach Ilum in the next 24 hours."

A sigh escaped his lips, and he turned to look at the cot. The bedsheets were stainless and well kept, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to lie down on them. It felt intrusive. Not that he cared about such unnecessary things, but he didn't trust the woman at all. The holocron was something that made him suspicious and he decided to stay alert. Which meant no sleep.

How could the former Jedi have a holocron here and not get influenced by it? As far as he could tell, it was a powerful device, and the energy of the dark side was thriving around it. Surprisingly though, he couldn't feel any taint in her force presence. 

Maul sat cross-legged on the floor to meditate and find out more about the strange light side user. He closed his eyes to focus, and with the help of his emotions, he could feel the force better, and while he encircled Y/N with his presence, he noticed a pull. It felt like a string, nothing more, nothing stronger. Weak, and easily tearable but somehow enchanting. 

What is this? He knitted his brows and let his senses roam further, but suddenly something stopped him. 

"What are you doing?" 

It was not only said in his head but also coming from the door. He startled but hid his surprise immediately. 

“Brother." 

The yellow-skinned Zabrak looked down on him with a puzzled expression. 

"I think that snake is hiding something." 

So Savage figured out something too. 

"Have you found anything?" 

His brother opened his mouth to speak but then paused.

"It's just a feeling. We should watch her in case she tries to pull something stupid."

Maul nodded, having decided not to mention the holocron unless his brother did first. Maybe I can take it with me later.

.

Savage left his brother alone after the older one expressed his wish to meditate. The yellow Zabrak was kind of annoyed but let him. He stepped into the grand room, where a table and an open kitchen let the crewmembers of the freighter eat. 

A clatter indicated that the only other passenger of the ship was in the kitchen. He watched her back while she cut something on the counter. Her h/c hair was swaying slightly while she hummed something and moved her body in the rhythm. Savage knew she noticed him because of the way her back stiffened. Her long black robes were hiding it well, but he saw it anyway.

Nevertheless, she continued her little tune and seemed to ignore him. A weird feeling spread in his chest the longer he stared at her. Her force presence was overwhelming, and he couldn't stop the prickly sensation of the light side to form in his body. It made him uncomfortable, and he coughed to interrupt the awkward silence he believed to have appeared. 

"What? Do you want to eat something too?" 

Her tone was quite harsh, which brought him back to his senses. 

"No," he spat. He would never eat something that scum made him. She would probably poison it. 

And Savage would also never sit next to her at the small table and eat with a happy face. That thought definitely didn't cross his mind. Not even for a second. 

"Then why are you staring at me so intently? If you want to throw up, go to the bathroom." 

Her indication was a little weird. He scrunched his eyes. 

"Your dark side stench is also overbearing, so if you could leave. I'd like to enjoy my meal without a Zabrak, trying to kill me with his eyes." 

The woman placed her food on a plate she had prepared before-hand and turned around to face him. Her nice e/c eyes were piercing when she put her hand on her hip. He just watched her for a few seconds. Her posture not only showed him that she wasn't intimidated by him but also that she was rather angry. It looks good on her. She raised an eyebrow, and he gulped unconsciously. 

"Whatever, Jedi." 

A sigh escaped her lips when she grabbed her plate and stalked out of the kitchen, muttering: "I told you I am no Jedi. Not anymore." 

She left him alone in the grand room, and he was dazed for a few seconds.  Did I seriously just think that this harpy is hot? A blush crept over his cheeks, and he clenched his teeth. 

No, he would kill Y/N after they found the kybercristals. A former Jedi was still a light side user, and they had to die. The somewhat attractive human was no exception. He then finally noticed the growl coming from his stomach. He would kill the woman, but he might postpone it a bit if he still got something to eat. I'm hungry.

-

"Are you guys serious? Ilum is an ice planet! Did you really think that you wouldn't need any kind of jacket?!" 

Y/N watched the two idiot brothers with a disbelieving expression. She wore a big long coat with a furry hood and a scarf. The only thing they could see of her was her burning e/c eyes. And they were apparently ready to kill. 

“We do not need such trivial things. The force will keep us warm." 

"The force my ass! The only thing you're wearing is basically a rag," she pointed at Savage and then turned to him, "and you... Are you a stripper? I can see your chest. I'm pretty sure you will freeze to death before we even get to the caves." 

Maul let out a growl and crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

"Looks like Jedi are truly ascetic. Are you seriously embarrassed by seeing some skin, woman?" 

His tone was mocking, and it satisfied him a bit too much when she blushed slightly. 

"Shut it, that's not the point. I won't take you with me unless you wear something warmer!" 

He opened his mouth to speak a threat, but his brother got ahead of him: "Okay. But then we will finally go to the caves. No more scouting alone!" 

The h/c haired woman sighed but then nodded. Maul only gave his brother a look. Did he just surrender to that Jedi? 

Savage nodded at him, and he scowled. 

"Wear these." 

She presented them two coats; both of them were white like hers. 

"Put on the hood and also these scarfs. Otherwise, your skin colors will be seen from a mile away." 

Maul forcefully breathed out through his nose, showing his annoyance. He ripped the coat out of her hand and put it on. He also draped the scarf around his throat, rather messy though, and lifted up his hood to hide his horns and forehead.

"Did the ship with the padawans already arrive?" 

Y/N nodded again and then fixed Savage's scarf to hide his lower face better. He only stared at them with a darkening expression. His brother was acting way too tame with the Jedi scum. Did that wrench...? 

His thought got interrupted when she turned around and also reached out to fix his scarf. Her fingers were cold, but where she accidentally touched his chin and cheeks, warmth spread. Her eyes were focused on the white cloth around his neck. Maul stopped breathing for a second when her pinky finger brushed his lips. 

"Sorry," was all she said, and she averted her gaze. He chuckled, more shocked than amused. 

"Can we go now?" asked his brother his tone sounded slightly annoyed. The woman stepped back and then turned abruptly so that they only saw her backside.

"Follow me."

.

They traveled without speaking, and the only sound that accompanied them was the crunch of the snow and ice under their feet. 

Savage was questioning the moment earlier. Why did his heart pound faster when she touched him? What wretched feeling was this emotion in his chest? Did he... No. That couldn't be- 

He got interrupted when he bumped into Y/N, who had stopped walking suddenly. 

"There they are." 

He and his brother stepped next to her side to see a grey republic transporter behind some ice boulders. It was guarded by some clones. 

"They are really close to the caves...", murmured the former Jedi thoughtfully, and Savage reached inside his coat for his lightsaber. 

"What are you doing?" asked Maul and stopped him. 

"They are a hindrance." 

His brother scrunched his eyes. 

"What if they call for back-up? There's a republic flagship if you've forgotten." 

The fact that the other Zabrak didn't want to kill the puny soldiers was rather strange, but he ignored it and sighed. He tried to clip his lightsaber back to his hip when, surprisingly, the Jedi voiced an idea: 

"No, wait. Them calling for back up might actually be a good idea." 

She pointed at the clones. 

"If we attack them, they would definitely inform the Jedi master inside. If we stealthily take them out and let the last one see us, the master might come to investigate, and we can go into the caves without any problems." 

"Or the master waits until we get to him."

Y/N rolled her eyes. Savage could almost hear what she was thinking.

"That's a risk we can take. I'm pretty sure the muscles on this guy aren't just for show." 

She pointed at him, and he turned his head away to hide his slight embarrassment. Why was he acting this way?!

"Well, then... I'm off." 

Without a word, she strode forward, and before Maul or he could stop her, she leaped into the air with the help of the force. She landed behind an ice block sticking out from the ground and hid. The brothers only watched how she tricked one of the clones to come towards her with the help of small pebble and then knocked him out in a matter of seconds. 

"She's not killing them," mentioned Maul when she took out the third guy, and panic started to spread among the clones guarding the ship. 

"Not a Jedi, ha! She clearly has their weaknesses", responded Savage, although it sounded stiff. 

Both Zabrak had their own thoughts when they saw how efficient she was. The distressed yells of the last clone trooper standing were loud enough for them to understand them clearly. 

"General, something is attacking u-" 

The man got cut off when Y/N jumped on him and literally broke the connection and the clone's neck. Oh. Did they both think. That was... surprising. 

They moved to join her but both of them were in a daze.

The body dropped to the floor, and the woman did a somersault to stand up again. When she turned around, they had already approached her and the ship. 

"That was rather impressive," stated Maul, and he watched how the red-skinned Zabrak grinned at her. Savage thought the same but didn't say it out loud. 

"Seems like you underestimated me. Me and my plan." 

She casually waved in the direction of the dead clone whose comlink was blinking. 

"Halo? Halo, what happened? Damn it!" 

The male Jedi master seemed to turn away to speak with someone, but they could still hear the words of the conversation. 

"I will check this out. You stay here and wait for the others." 

Y/N raised an eyebrow and smirked. 

"See? Now, all we have to do is avoid running into him while we go."

Savage nodded, and the brothers began to walk while she followed them. After they were a few hundred meters away, the former Jedi turned around and closed her eyes.

"What are you doing?" he asked and observed her. His brother crossed his arms and also stared at her. 

"We have to cover up our footprints." 

She concentrated, and both of them could feel the force shifting around her. A strong wind blew, and their tracks blurred with the dancing snow.

"You're more careful than I thought." 

Her e/c eyes pierced Maul's yellow ones, but she didn't respond. 

"Let's just get those crystals."

.

And they did. It took a while, though, because the two Sith and the Ex-Jedi had to sneak in, and Savage wasn't really experienced in stealth. 

They also had to get rid of the padawan waiting for the other apprentices, but Maul was able to easily overrule his spirit and make him unconscious. The red Zabrak wanted to take the padawans crystal, but Y/N stopped him from doing so because it would point the Jedi master towards a Sith. 

So they followed their actual plan but not without Maul degrading the woman and her "weak mindset." The light side user wanted to separately search for the padawans, but both the brothers were strictly against it. What if she betrayed them? So they decided that Savage would be the one to go alone because he was the only one with a lightsaber. 

When they parted, Y/N began to block the Sith out to find her own crystal. She let her senses wander and feel with the force, and there was a small, steady pulse that called out to her. 

Maul tagged along, but his annoyance and anger clearly was showing. They found her crystal first and then another padawan suddenly showed up. The worm didn't put up a proper fight though. The Zabrak had expected the woman to at least show some mercy, but she helped him drop icy boulders on the young Twi'Lek without hesitation. 

That was when Savage re-joined them, he himself also had encountered two padawans who were on their way back. He had killed them both and took their crystals. When he mentioned his deed, he watched the h/c haired woman expectantly, but like with Maul, she didn't flinch nor show any sign of sadness. 

They began to walk towards the beginning of the caves when they encountered a big group of padawans. Both the Sith were a little surprised that the brats didn't try to flee. The arrogance of the Jedi was already implanted in them. They fought. And won. Although Y/N had some difficulties. 

The brothers shared a look but then decided to let it slide because, in the end, they got what they wanted. 

"Let's get out of here." 

They wanted to, but there was only one problem...

-

"I knew it. Sith are useless."

"Pardon me?"

The red-skinned Zabrak stared at the woman in front of him with a dark expression. She ignored how the force twisted and turned in anger around him and clicked her tongue in annoyance. The sound echoed through the ice caves and reminded him once again that their supposedly perfect plan had turned into a nightmare.

"You can't even count hours. We're stuck here because of you!" 

The accusation of the former Jedi and now outlaw formed a burning rage in his chest, but he was able to control his emotions. 

Unlike his brother, Savage took a step closer to her and pierced the woman with a fierce glare, his hand on his lightsaber.

"Your loose tongue will be the death of you, Jedi scum."

Y/N didn't back down. Instead, she let her own emotions flow through the force, and her irritation was just as mighty as the brothers.

Maul knew that she had a point. They did forget the time when they were fighting the padawans, but it was also her fault. He was sure that the arrogance of a Jedi still coursed through her veins and that it caused her to underestimate the younger generation. 

Of course, the Jedi prodigies were no match for the trained Sith, but the Ex-Jedi seemed to have skipped training since she had left the order. The skills she showed before when she had taken out the clone troopers seemed to be farce—what a disappointment.

"Stay back, big guy. You don't know how much I restrain myself from killing you."

Savage scowled and then pointed his lightsaber at her, although the blade was not yet drawn. 

"You told us about the mechanism. You knew we could be trapped in here! You were familiar with it from before, so tell me why I shouldn't just end your miserable life right here and now?!" 

Y/N only stared at him, her face displaying a thunderstorm of fury. Way back in the heads of both the brothers whispered a voice that she looked hot and alluring like that, but the Zabrak ignored it. 

She finally opened her mouth and distracted them from the weird thought: 

"Because I know how to get out of here. We have to activate a mechanism from the inside."

Maul stepped forward, hand raised and tightened in a fist.

"Then tell us."

She shook her head. No way. It was the last ace she had up her sleeve. If they knew about it, they could just kill her for real. 

"No. I won't tell you. But I can guarantee that we will be out of here tomorrow."

The three all shared a look, and everyone still had a flame of rage inside their eyes, but in the end, the two Sith complied.

"So, what are we going to do now?" 

Y/N turned around and pointed towards one of the tunnels going deeper inside the caves.

"There are geothermal geysers in one of the caves. It'll be warmer than here."

Savage tilted his head in confusion. 

"Why does that matter?"

She stared at him, dumbfounded. The other Zabrak also looked a little bewildered. Were these two idiots?

"We are spending the night here. It gets way colder than it already is."

Both blinked at the same time and then just marched past her. Savage did it to hide his embarrassment, and Maul was just too tired to deal with the woman. That's at least what he told himself. 

.

When they arrived in the cave with the geysers, the temperature was slightly higher, but for Y/N and Savage, it didn't make any difference. They both already had cold feet and hands, and the big coats they wore were not helping. The Zabrak, though, was not going to tell her or his brother. 

Savage decided to sit close to the big water pool while Y/N went to the smaller one which was closer to the walls. She knelt and took a deep breath. The brothers watched her both from the corners of their eyes. 

Maul thought about meditating too, but he wasn't in the mood, and he'd much rather get more angry about the situation they were in now. 

His brother did sit down like the woman, but he didn't close his eyes to meditate. His yellow eyes were solely focused on the woman. If Maul hadn't known better, he would have guessed that his brother was attracted to the former Jedi. The thought was so disgusting and ridiculous he couldn't stop himself from chuckling silently. 

But then something welled up in his chest, and the feeling was ugly. He couldn't name it. It wasn't an emotion he would usually get. It felt twisted and futile, something he believed he would never need to feel for his brother. 

His face darkened, and he unconsciously reached out to search his brother's feelings. There was something. Something dark and yearning. A want. A lu- 

It felt like he had burned his fingers, and Maul retreated immediately. That couldn't be, could it? For her? That Jedi? That scu... 

His eyes wandered to her form. She was wrapped in the coat, but he could still see the curves of her body.  He remembered the way she had killed the clone earlier, how she talked back at him with sarcastic comments while they were searching for the crystals, and how her eyes were filled with passion and fury when she had snapped at them before. 

When Maul looked at her now, her light force presence calmly pulsing because of her meditation, a single thought filled his mind. He wanted to taint her spirit. Her soul. 

He knew it was absolutely absurd, but the idea made his chest burn and his blood boil in anticipation. She used the light side of the force, but Y/N had a Sith holocron. She first seemed calm and collected, but most of the times her emotions would almost ignite the air. And she killed. Something the Jedi avoided as much as possible,

She was a being he couldn't figure out. And it intrigued him. Her spirit was wild and free. He wanted to own her. And his brother seemingly wanted it too.

.

Hours passed, and while the brothers watched the woman with burning gazes, the air turned freezing cold, and Y/N had begun to shiver. She couldn't concentrate anymore; furthermore, the peace she had felt when she meditated was long gone. Mostly because of the cold but also because she could sense the eyes of the Sith on her.

When she opened her eyes, she noticed how the two Zabrak also seemed a little unhealthy. Savage Opress, the bigger one, was surprisingly trembling from the cold, she could see it because the fur on his coat seemed to vibrate. An idea crossed her mind, and she slowly stood up. 

The others immediately looked towards her and stiffened. Y/N felt pity for them. Of course, they were evil scumbags, but she didn't want them to die of hypothermia. 

The yellow-skinned Zabrak seemed to be in a much worse condition than his brother, so she decided to approach him. She slowly walked over to him, and the closer she came, the more she could feel his dark force presence. Somehow it was stronger than before, but she didn't care. In her eyes, he looked cold but also like a potential heating oven. This irrational thought pushed her forward, and she nonchalantly sat down next to him.

"What... what are you doing?" he asked, his voice was slightly raspy. Y/N looked up to him and then turned her head away. 

"I'm cold. And so seem you."

She was almost sure that he would send her away, but to her big surprise, he sighed and then suddenly wrapped an arm around her and pushed her closer to him. She watched his face, but he avoided her gaze. The former Jedi could feel his warmth faintly through his and her own coat, and she shifted to lean closer to him. 

The fact that he was a Sith and had wanted to kill her earlier was lost in the back of her head. He looks kinda cute when he’s embarrassed. Even Sith can feel embarrassment after all, huh. She could see his tinted cheeks, although he tried to hide it. She turned her head to the other brother. 

"You should join us." 

Darth Maul’s gaze was dark, and he refused immediately, a little too hotly.

"I won't."

Y/N frowned. Did he hate the thought of sharing body warmth with her so much that he would rather tremble like a leaf?

"You're going to freeze to death, come on. Don’t be so stubborn." 

He shook his head adamantly and then let a pulse of dark force rush through the room. The anger and hatred took her breath away for a second, and she wheezed. Maul stopped and then faced the wall away from the two. She could feel the force still churning, and when she gasped again, the arm around her tightened. 

Her eyes searched Savage's, but he averted his gaze and pressed his lips together. She sighed and lowered her head. As long as he warmed her like he was right now, she would ignore his silent demeanor. 

-

They stayed like this, time went by, and the only light in the room was coming from one of the giant crystals. Maul was at the point of hauling himself into the steaming water but he restrained himself. The former Jedi had warned them that the water only looked warm and would in fact double the chances of them dying of hypothermia. So he had stayed where he was.

The Zabrak’s teeth were clattering and he hated it. The first few hours he was able to use the force to keep his body warm but hunger and the weird things he imagined about the woman distracted him and he eventually gave up on trying. 

His brother and Y/N were asleep. He could hear it. Their steady breaths were intertwined and they laid curled up on the outlaw’s coat which they had spread so they could lie down. 

At some point earlier the two of them had decided to take off their coats. Hers would be used like a pad while Savage’s would serve them as a blanket. The fact that his brother held the woman close to his chest had fueled his body with anger and heat and he used it to stay warm a little longer. 

The fact that he was angry because of that was ignored. As long as he got warmth out of it it was fine.

But now? Now he had enough. His survival instincts overruled his want to stay away from the light side user and he stood up and hurriedly walked over to the two of them. For him it felt like he could feel their body heat even two meters standing away from them, and it felt like heaven.

Slowly he approached them and searched their faces for any indication that they were awake. Maul almost jumped when the h/c haired woman returned his eye contact. Her eyes were bleary but she was definitely looking at him. 

“Whatcha doing?”

He stared at and thousand thoughts filled his mind from the way she looked cute right now to the fact that his brother was drooling slightly. Maul tried to summon a stoic looking face and then replied with a monotone voice:

“If we three all huddle together we will stay warm. You looked cold.”

Y/N stayed silent for a while and just watched him. Her eyelashes were surprisingly long and the way they mirrored her stunning e/c eyes caused his heartbeat to quicken some more.

“C’mere”, she mumbled and he breathed in slowly, still trying to reason with his survival instincts that he was a Sith and the cold wouldn’t kill him, and he would much rather freeze than lie next to this sleeping beauty but he just couldn’t.

Suddenly a hand grabbed his and he almost tumbled forward and onto the two if he hadn’t caught himself with his knees at the last moment.

“Maul... just lie down...”

Her voice was enchanting and the arm who held up Savage’s coat seemed so inviting that he complied. He laid down with enough space between him and her so that they weren’t touching, but she didn’t seem to like that and promplty huddled closer. When her arms snaked around his torso he stopped breathing and his heart pounded loudly in his ears.

Is... Is she trying to seduce me?! She pressed her head into the thick material of his coat and heat rose from his abdomen. The former Jedi latched onto Maul like a parasite and he had troubles controlling the uprising thoughts about her small form.

This woman was nothing what he desired. He was a Sith, but he had no time for frilly emotions and the lusts of the body. What he wanted was revenge and power. But his brain must have lost a few braincells, the ones for rational thinking, because he actually embraced the woman, and pressed her closer to him.

A heavy object suddenly crashed down on him - he almost jumped - and he and the woman in his arms got pulled to the left. He realized it was his brother who had suddenly lost his source of warmth and yanked them closer again in his sleep.

Both of them men hugged the woman. Savage spooned her from behind and he held her in his arms. Their body heat was surprisingly hot and after a while the coat he wore was unbearable for him and he almost tore it off his body.

He pulled Y/N’s hands away and sat up to take off the coat. Then he draped it over himself and the woman and then put his arm around her again.

His face was hot and he was somehow feeling embarrassed but he ignored every sign of his body liking her and just closed his eyes. Please just let in be morning.

He couldn’t acknowledge the feelings he was confronted with. Couldn’t admit that he really, really liked the way she pressed her head into the hollow by his throat, how her breath felt like feathers on his skin, and the way she let her guard down around him.

She probably does that with everyone when she’s tired. The thought caused a small and animalistic growl to erupt from his throat and he was shocked that just the imagination of it made the fire of jealousy burn higher and higher.

His master would have probably never expected this to happen. I think I’ve fallen for her.

The revelation hit him hard. But when her lips suddenly brushed his collarbone, he just realized that it would open a whole new world to him. And surprisingly; he was fine with that.

-

Savage opened his eyes slowly. A breath had fanned his face and he was confused. Since when do I...? There was also a weight on his hips. Both the breath and the leg pushed over his body belonged to the former Jedi with whom he and his brother had gone on a mission.

Now he remembered.

Y/N’s face was so close to his, it stopped his own breath for a second. Her leg felt suddenly so much heavier, he had to push it away softly. Her eyelashes were long, and the frown on her face she had worn through the whole mission was gone without a trace.

The lack of her furrowed eyebrows gave her a soft look and he could finally understand what people meant when they said a person was beautiful. Maybe it was because of the cold environment they were in, maybe it wasn’t, but to him the former Jedi looked like the embodiment of life.

Her cheeks were slightly red from the cold, giving her a bashful expression even though she was sleeping. He was surprised that he, a Sith, was able to have such a pure feeling blooming in his chest.

He moved his gaze and saw his brother behind Y/N. Maul had his arm wrapped around her hip and his shoulders were raising and falling slowly. The red skinned Zabrak  also pressed his face in the woman’s silky hair.

Slight jealousy flared in his heart but Savage could forgive him. Because it was the first time he had seen his brother this calmly sleeping after the whole thing happened with the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi and the acquirement of his new legs.

And in his eyes he had already won the big prize.

He unconsciously reached out in the small space between him and Y/N and slowly grabbed her hand. It was warm but her fingers were surprisingly rough. Probably from all the training.

He intertwined their fingers and at that moment it was as if the force connected the three of them.

An overwhelming feeling washed over him and he breathed in deeply. If this was love, he could understand why the Jedi were so adamant about not forming attachments. The emotion was so strong, his force presence was humming and he quickly sat up out of shock. The powerful change in the force caused the air to sightly vibrate.

Small ice pebbles danced over the ground next to them and he finally realized that there was a lot more light inside the caves. Morning must have come.

Savage turned to face the two people lying next to him. Seeing them so peacefully almost hurt him. A nostalgic feeling spread inside of his chest and he sighed.

What harm could do a few more minutes, right? He laid down again, draped the coat over him and the woman and also wrapped an arm around her. He and his brother now touched but he didn’t care.

If the light side could give him this kind of peace, Savage wouldn’t mind turning his back on the darkness inside of him. Or at least for moments like these.

While he was deeply in his thoughts, neither did he realize that the woman scooted closer to him again and pressed her face towards his chest, nor did he notice that her lips formed a smile.

Maybe not all Sith are that bad. At least these two aren’t.

[shinyatiny]

Flower Crown - yungi

Chapter two: The charming jeweler

_____________________________

The jewelry shop was located next to the stands, so it didn't take Mingi long to get there. It was a small brown house with round windows on each side of the door. Small flowers decorated the outside of the house in majestic colors of the rainbow. He loved the look of his friend's shop. He would always come here to relax, sometimes taking care of the little flowers when he had the time for it.

A small knock on the door had someone yelling at him from inside, telling him to wait for a few seconds. Mingi gladly waited for his friend, eyeing the villagers who passed by every now and then. When the door finally opened, his friend greeted him with a kind smile, showing his shining teeth to Mingi. "Hi." The blonde boy waved shyly, stepping inside the shop when his friend moved out of the way, closing the door behind them. "Sorry for barging in so early, Seonghwa. I had to get away from my father for a moment." He chuckled, running his fingers along with his markings in thought. "I have about thirty minutes to chat before I have to go back for breakfast." He explained.

Seonghwa tilted his head to the side with a smile, patting Mingi's back with a careful hand. "It's fine, Mingi. You're always welcome to my humble home." He laughed, taking Mingi's hand and dragging him to the living room. Seonghwa's shop was small, but it definitely fit him. It looked more like a fairy's home than an elf's, but Mingi knew Seonghwa had always admired fairies a lot, and it showed.

After the jeweler had dragged the blonde boy into his living room, they sat down in the corner that was decorated with soft pillows. The walls were painted with a warm pink color, the violet fairy lights attached to the ceiling fitting the color scheme perfectly. The pillow fort in the corner was one of Mingi's favorite things about Seonghwa's little shop. They always drank tea in the corner and gossiped about other elves. It brought warm memories into Mingi's mind and it made him smile in adoration. Seonghwa's lips formed into a smile as he watched the blonde boy look around his living room for the millionth time.

"Is the chief being an asshole to you again? What did he do this time?" Seonghwa asked, patting the pillow so Mingi would take a seat next to him. The other smiled and whispered a small thank you before seating himself next to Seonghwa. "You said you wanted to get away from him when you came in." He said, leaning against the pink pillow behind him, crossing his legs, and turning to look at the other elf.

Mingi scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment, looking anywhere but at Seonghwa. His eyes found the violet fairy lights, examining every single one of them individually. "He saw the piercing on my ear." He muttered quietly, his hand finding the piercing on his ear and fiddling with it. The golden accessory felt cold against the palm of his hand. "I promised him not to get more piercings a while ago. But in the end, I visited your shop and got another one. He wasn't happy about that, but what can I do, he's always grumpy when I wear something he doesn't like." He said, eyes finding Seonghwa's warm ones in an instant.

Seonghwa sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's literally your own body, Mingi. Your father has no say in this, you know? If you want to get a piercing then you should be allowed to do so." He said, taking Mingi's hand in his and squeezing it in a reassuring manner. He had never liked the way Mingi's father treated the blonde boy. It always made him angry when Mingi came running to his shop with tears in his eyes. He'd like to have a serious discussion about parenting with the chief. "Did he say anything about me?"

Mingi blinked, a small grin plastered on his lips. "He said he'd personally come to your shop and ask you to stop piercing me if I get another one." He chuckled, his hand running along his markings, feeling every curve and corner. Mingi did this a lot when he was anxious or worried. It made him feel more relaxed, and since it was the most sensitive part of an elf's body, he usually didn't let anyone else touch them other than Seonghwa. The two didn't have anything going on, they were just friends who were very, very close. He let Seonghwa touch his markings only when he was feeling sad or perplexed about something.

The jeweler snorted at that, playfully rolling his eyes. Mingi looked at him in curiosity but didn't comment on Seonghwa's sudden childish behavior. "He can ban me from the village if he wants, but I won't quit my job just because some old man didn't want his son to get any piercings." He laughed, putting a reassuring hand on Mingi's right shoulder. "If you want another one, I'll give you one, don't worry." He winked, standing up and brushing his pants with one arm. "Anyways, I'll go make some fairy dust tea for us, I'll be quick, okay?" He said, gaining a shy nod from Mingi.

The blonde elf watched as Seonghwa made his way to the kitchen with quiet steps. Smiling to himself, Mingi took a pillow from beside him and buried his face in it, his legs swinging up and down in excitement. He has been friends with Seonghwa for years. They first met at a clan meeting Seonghwa's mother had participated in. Mingi's father had dragged him to see the meeting because he wanted Mingi to see what it was like to rule over the biggest elf tribe.

Ever since then, they've been inseparable. Seonghwa has always been quite the charmer, his looks were a no-joke, after all. And because of that and the fact Mingi was the prince, they got a lot of attention. Seonghwa liked the attention but Mingi hated it. As a shy individual, he disliked pointless conversations with strangers from the village. Seonghwa had noticed Mingi's discomfort at some point and he gladly accepted Mingi's request of staying indoors every time they met.

While Seonghwa was older, he was also shorter than Mingi. His silver locks were in everyone's mind as soon as one had seen him, and his markings were also marvelous. The Iris was in the back of his neck for everyone to see. His red markings slithered around his back towards his hips and ended on his stomach, making him look like a living painting. Mingi really admired his friend's appearance. People usually had bright-colored markings, but Seonghwa was a beautiful example of someone who had darker markings on their body. It was as if red, warm flames engulfed his body in endless symbols and lines, the Iris in the back of his neck being the main attraction.

The jeweler's attire was quite ravishing, too. He usually wore a red see-through crop top — to match the markings on his body — that was decorated with a golden neckline. His pants were similar to Mingi's, black, but they were made from the finest leather one could find. Mingi always wondered how much they cost, but he didn't have to ask to know they cost a fortune. Seonghwa didn't wear any boots inside, but he usually had a pair of elven boots on, which he made himself. Even though Seonghwa was the owner of a jewelry shop, he didn't use many accessories on himself, only a small necklace around his neck with a small orange flower hanging from it.

As Mingi waited for his friend to come back with two steaming cups of fairy dust tea, a sudden sharp sound made his ears perk up. He also heard a quiet curse as something fell on the floor where Seonghwa was. Mingi stood up, placing the pillow back in its original place, and went to check on the older. When he got to the kitchen, he saw Seonghwa crouched on the floor with a wet rag in his hand. Mingi could clearly see the red iris in the back of Seonghwa's neck from his current position. "What happened here?" The blond voiced, startling the other elf.

Seonghwa sighed, standing up and wiping his forehead with his hand. "As you can see, chaos happened." He grumbled, throwing the wet towel in the sink while pursing his lips together. What was left on the floor was a broken glass jar, its shards spread around everywhere. "All my fairy dust is gone." He murmured angrily. Mingi could imagine how furious Seonghwa must be right now. Fairy dust wasn't cheap at all, it cost at least a few gold coins, which was a lot because you could get a month's worth of food with the same amount.

"I guess we won't be having fairy dust tea," Seonghwa whined. It was his favorite drink, and now he had to save money for a new jar of fairy dust. The older turned to Mingi, a frown on his face, but he tried not to show his disappointment too much. "Mingi, you like cinnamon tea, don't you? I can make a few jars of it for you if you want. You can take the jars back with you when you leave." He requested, the younger quirking up an eyebrow in surprise.

Mingi shook his head with a sweet smile, helping Seonghwa pick up the shards of the jar that had spread across the floor. "You don't have to make it. I don't have much time anyway." He explained, putting the small shards of glass in the trash bin. Seonghwa hummed, doing the same. "But, do you have any earrings I could buy? I wanted to change my current one to something else." He said, pointing at the piercing on his ear, Seonghwa nodding in thought.

"Of course I do, I own a jewelry shop, after all. Is it for Lenaia?" Seonghwa asked, getting a small nod from the blonde elf. He chuckled, walking out of the kitchen in a hurry to find the thing he needed. He turned left after leaving the kitchen, walking to his storage room, and stepping on a low chair. The room was a mess, boxes of jewelry and all kinds of accessories lying around. The shelves were even messier, full of little boxes filled with gold and silver. He searched for the right label on the many shelves, and after finding the one that read 'earrings', he yanked the box out of the shelf, almost falling down the chair in the process. "Here we go." He whispered to himself with a smile plastered on his lips.

Mingi watched in expectation what kinds of earrings the other would bring, and when he saw the silver-haired elf return, his stomach was bubbling with excitement. "What did you find?" He asked enthusiastically, eyes wide in happiness. Seonghwa giggled lowly, placing the small box on the kitchen table and opening the lid. Mingi's eyes focused on the box, his mind blank as he saw all the beautiful accessories in it. "Wow." He simply stated, mouth hanging loose as he stepped forward to get a better look at the jewelry.

His eyes fixated on a specific earring. Seonghwa watched in amusement as Mingi picked up the earring, inspecting it from up close. "I knew you'd like that one." He smiled. Mingi didn't answer anything, he just stared at the earring in awe. "You know, it has a small spell embedded into it. It helps the bearer when they're distressed, it spreads happiness to the body when worn." He explained, Mingi nodding emptily at his explanation. "It'd also look hot on you, not gonna lie." He smirked playfully, Mingi choking on air after hearing that. "What? I mean it."

Mingi could feel his face heat up from embarrassment upon hearing Seonghwa's bold comment. His ears were red and hot, and if Seonghwa noticed, he chose not to comment on it. "I — I guess..." The blonde said with a stutter. "How much do I have to pay for this?" He said shyly, eyeing the earring. Seonghwa laughed quite loudly after hearing Mingi's question, the said elf raising up a confused eyebrow.

"You don't have to pay for it, darling." Seonghwa grinned, closing the box and picking it up from the table. Mingi looked perplexed for a hot second before nodding slowly. The older couldn't help but smile at Mingi as he stared at the piece of jewelry in his frail hand. "You really seem to like it, huh?" He said, leaving the kitchen to return the box to its previous place. When he came back, he saw the blonde elf taking out the piercing on his earlobe and replacing it with the new one. "Like I said, it looks good."

Mingi had to bite back a smile at that, a giggle leaving his lips instead. "T- thank you, Hwa. I think I'll take it." He said with a shy smile. Seonghwa flashed a grin at him, patting Mingi's head like a puppy's. "Anyways I think I have to go now. I don't want to keep my father waiting for too long. That would result in a disaster, after all." He said, smiling cheekily at the older.

Seonghwa chuckled at Mingi's cuteness. Walking to the blonde's side, he placed a secure arm behind Mingi's back and accompanied him to the front door. "I assume I will see you at the Lenaia festival?" He tilted his head to the side. "Your father will probably drag you with him to watch the other tribe members fight." He sighed, noticing the sudden change in Mingi's expression.

The said elf hummed nonchalantly, hand finding the new earring on his right ear. "I guess so." He simply said, giving Seonghwa a smile of reassurance. "But I'll be fine, Hwa. You don't need to worry about anything." He stated, the silver-haired elf narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "Come on, have some faith in me, will you?" The blonde chuckled.

Seonghwa hummed as an answer and slowly nodded. "Right, of course. Let's act like you don't hate violence." He spat, ripping his gaze off Mingi. The said boy stared at the older in confusion for a while before breaking into soft giggles. Seonghwa eyed Mingi with narrowed eyes, not buying it. "If your father does something sudden to you, please, look for me, okay?" He said, worry laced with his voice. Mingi stayed quiet for a second, contemplating what to say next. He knew Seonghwa was worried about him, but Mingi didn't want him to get involved with his family business. His father would like it even less.

Mingi ran a hand through his blond locks, a sigh leaving his lips. "He won't do anything, Hwa. But if he does do something, you'll be the first one to know about it, alright?" He smiled softly, his words making Seonghwa's shoulders slump down in relief. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to leave." He grinned, taking Seonghwa's hand in his and shaking it in a playful manner. "Bye, see you at the festival!"

The silver-haired elf watched as Mingi ran off with a cute wave, almost tripping on some rocks because he didn't look ahead of him. He laughed at his friend's goofiness, closing the door and returning to his workspace.

[smoochkooks]

—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.

[yandere-society]

Reincarnate

Synopsis: ‘Taehyung hates his immortal life, rueing the day Namjoon blessed him with eternity. But now, a hundred years later, he stumbles across someone who he— who they— want to keep forever.’

Pairing: Taehyung × Fem!Reader × Namjoon 

Genre: Inspired by Interview with a Vampire, Horror 

Word Count: 7K

Admin: @chimchimsauce​​

Trigger warnings: yandere-themes, descriptions of manipulation and physical harm. Please read with caution. 

Rain patters peacefully against the large diner windows, blurring the lights of the cars passing by on the highway. The smell of cheap coffee wafts through the air as a tired-looking waitress wipes a rag over the empty countertop.

YN sighs, eyeing her own cup of now cold coffee and watery grits. She’s ordered almost an hour ago to calm her nerves about her upcoming interview. But with each minute that passes by, the reporter becomes more and more aware that the mysterious man on the phone had stood her up. She really shouldn’t be surprised anymore. She gets more prank calls than actual ones.

And yet, the disappointment is still there. The man who called her only this afternoon seemed much different from the giggling teenagers who claimed to have the latest scoop. His voice had been heavenly, enchanting even. Surely a voice like that couldn’t belong to a prankster.

Her rubbery eggs suggest otherwise.

Rising in anger (both at the mystery man for ditching and at herself for sitting here this long) YN begins to pack her bag, shoving notebooks and recorders into her small satchel before plopping two dollars on the table as a tip. When she turns to go, however, the woman nearly screams out in fright, startled by the stranger standing right in front of her.

Any snarky remark she intended on delivering falls dead on her tongue as her eyes widen, taking in the man before her. YN can confidently say in the twenty-four years she’s been alive, she’s never seen someone so beautiful. She openly stares at him, taking in his tall height, broad shoulders, large hands, and perfectly sculpted face. Even his attire is gorgeous. His fitted shirt hugs his body closely, jeans hanging on his waist loosely, ears pierced with sparkly silver jewelry.

This man belongs on a runway, not in a run-down diner under a highway.

“Sorry for making you wait,” he says jovially, not uncomfortable at the slightest due to her blatant staring.

“I - what?” YN asks, finally coming back to reality.

The stranger doesn’t respond, sliding into the other side of the booth and propping his head on his hands, looking at her endearingly. It causes color to rush to YN’s cheeks as she sits down just as quickly as she stood, trying to seem less frazzled than she really is.

“It’s okay,” the reporter says, finally putting two and two together and realizing that the handsome stranger was the one who called her, “Things happen,”

He smiles lazily, the expression sending YN’s heart into overdrive.

“Thanks for being so understanding,” he says with that beautiful voice of his, “I had a . . . prior engagement,”

His easy smile morphs into an amused one, making YN believe he’s referencing some inside joke she doesn’t understand.

“Would you like to order something? Coffee maybe?”

“I’m good, thank you,” he responds.

“Ah, well,” YN starts, trying to move on.

She really needs a story. The small newspaper she works for has had declining numbers this entire year. She’s afraid if she doesn’t write something spectacular, she’ll be laid off. YN rummages through her bag and sets up her recorder.

“You don’t mind, do you?” YN asks, looking up at the man.

He just shakes his head, the amused look on his face staying firm. It doesn’t quite sit right with her.

“You said you believe a vampire is behind the recent animal attacks that have been plaguing the town,” she asks once she’s certain that the device is recording.

She’s not one to waste time.

“Mmhm,” the man says, still grinning.

“And why is that, Mr . . .” YN trails off, realizing that she doesn’t know the man’s name.

He didn’t mention it earlier on the phone.

“Kim,” he says, “Kim Taehyung,”

For some inexplicable reason, that name seems familiar to her. She can’t tell where she’s heard it before, the memory lurking right out of her reach.

“Mr. Kim,” YN says, licking her suddenly parched lips, “You are aware that vampires are just myths, aren’t you? Especially around this season, it can be easy to blur the lines between fantasy and reality,”

For the first time since they’ve met, Taehyung’s eternal smile droops.

“Believe me, Beastie, vampires are most certainly real,”

“As fascinating as that would be to believe,” YN says, ignoring his strange conviction, “The attacks have been reported by the authorities as animal attacks. It’s not uncommon for a wolf to wander into town, considering Mistyhollow is completely surrounded by woods.”

Mistyhollow, the town YN grew up in, as the most uninteresting place on Earth. Even as a child, the sleepy town made YN restless, made her want to escape and see the real world. College had been that escape for her, but once both of her parents passed away in a freak accident, YN had no other choice but to come back and sort everything out.

The guilt is what made her stay. Her parents had been driving up to surprise her for her birthday when a semi-truck came out of nowhere and totaled their car and took both of them out of this world. YN couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility, couldn’t turn her back of the town her parents loved.

So now, five years later, YN is still stuck here at this place, chasing adventure the only way she knows how.

“No animal has the prowess to kill the exact same way every time. Every person who was murdered died because of a fatal wound right here,”

The man - Taehyung - places two of his long fingers over his jugular.

“How did you know that?” YN asks, bewildered.

That information hadn’t been released to the public. The only way YN knows it to be true is because the chief of police - an old friend of her father’s - mentioned it to her when he came over to check on her last weekend. The large spike in murders caused the middle-aged man to worry for her safety, especially since he had taken it upon himself to watch over her ever since her parents passed.

“Because I know who killed them,” Taehyung says breezily and without a care in the world.

YN’s heartbeat skyrockets. She’s never seen Taehyung before tonight and Mistyhollow is small enough that she knows almost everyone. There’s a very real possibility that he indeed was the one to kill all those people or that he’s in cahoots with them.

The woman’s fear must be evident in her expression because Taehyung continues.

“Don’t be afraid. There won’t be any more murders in this town after tonight,” he tries (and fails) to soothe her.

YN stands up, story be damned. She’s not sitting next to a murderer for one second longer.

But before she can even blink, Taehyung is in front of her, cold hand wrapped around her wrist. His grip isn’t tight, but it’s firm enough to prevent her escape.

“Off so soon, miss LN? I haven’t even given you my story yet,”

Taehyung is incredibly bemused, YN’s growing terror causing him to smile.

“Let me go,” she demands, trying to free herself, “Or I’ll scream,”

“Go ahead,” Taehyung offers, not moving an inch.

The coldness seems to spread throughout her body the longer he’s touching her.

YN doesn’t hesitate. She screams at the top of her lungs, the sound sharp and shrill, every ounce of fear forcing its way out.

But nothing happens. No one comes running as she’d hoped they would. It’s at this moment that YN realizes that the two of them are all alone.

“I came here to be interviewed,” Taehyung says, “It’s incredibly rude to run out on me, especially since I had to travel such a long distance,”

“Please don’t kill me,” YN pleads, her voice barely above a whisper.

She’s terrified, completely frozen in place.

“Kill you?” Taehyung asks as if the thought had never occurred to him, “Of course not, beastie. I’d never hurt you,”

His words are much too loving for the situation they’re currently in.

“Then what do you want from me?” YN asks, brain coming up with a million different scenarios, some even worse than death.

“I just want you to listen to me. Is that so much to ask?”

“N-no,” YN says, willing to go along with whatever he says until she can figure out a way to escape.

“Good. It’s nice to see you obedient for once, Beastie,” Taehyung says, guiding her back to her spot in the booth and finally releasing her.

She knows that another attempt to run would not be smart.

“Now where were we,” Taehyung asks, settling back in, “Ah, right. You don’t believe in vampires. I don’t blame you. I didn’t either. Not at first,”

“Do you have any proof?” YN forces herself to ask, continuing to play her role.

Taehyung tilts his head to the side, thinking.

“You know, I think I’d like to order something after all,”

And just like that, the waitress reappears from the kitchen, approaching the table as normal, as if she hadn’t heard YN scream only moments ago. The reporter is completely stunned. The waitress doesn’t even look at her. She’s standing too stiffly for her stance to appear normal, a dazed, glazed look in her eyes.

“Hi, doll,” Taehyung regards the lady with a patronizing tone even though she’s old enough to be his mother, “I’ll take a cup of coffee,”

As the waitress walks away, YN notices the two puncture wounds in her neck, right where all the other victims had been attacked. Her mouth dries out as she tries to swallow, noticing the blood oozing from the wounds. When she’s finally able to tear her eyes from the sight, her eyes connect with Taehyung’s.

“Persuasion works really well right after I bite someone,” he says casually, dragging his tongue across his lengthened canines, “She’ll be fine soon enough,”

YN is silent, struggling to process what’s going on.

Vampires are real. Vampires have been behind the mass murders in town. The man in front of her is a vampire.

For some reason, it isn’t nearly as difficult to accept as she’d thought.

“Why tell me this?” YN finds herself asking as the waitress hands Taehyung his coffee.

He swaps his fresh cup for YN’s cold one.

“You wanted a story didn’t you, Beastie?” Taehyung asks, “So I’m going to tell you a story. Listen well and drink that coffee, we’re gonna be here a while.”

The day was sunny. Taehyung never knew how much he would grow to hate sunny days. It was sunny when a snake shot out and bit his new wife, sickening her until she faded away like snow in spring, taking their unborn child with her.

The funeral was held on a sunny day. Taehyung’s tears and bloodshot eyes did not match the warm green grass and cheerful birds. And so he retreated into his too big, too empty house, unaware of the calculating eyes watching his every move.

Time went by in a haze of bar fights and blowing his money in the whore house, desperate to feel something - anything. But no matter what the twenty-three-year-old did, all he felt was empty. He’d loved his wife so completely that her death seemed to destroy him as well.

It was another one of those nights where the man was drunk just as the sky turned dark, getting yelled at for cheating at the game of cards he’d just won. Staggering, Taehyung stumbles to his feet, raising his fists for another fight. But before the seething man across from him can sock him in the throat, someone pulls him away, spewing apologies to the other man and hurrying the both of them away before Taehyung can cause even more trouble.

Taehyung doesn’t even bother to look at who his savior is. The world is spinning too much for him to care about anything. His shoes catch on the ground, causing him to lurch forward only to be rescued by the stranger at the last second. The sudden change in momentum is the final straw for Taehyung. He gags before puking all over himself and the floor, probably getting some on the stranger based on the sound of displeasure he makes.

The stranger drops Taehyung, the man landing in a heap on the ground. Taehyung groans but doesn’t complain, content being trash on the side of the road.

“Honestly,” the stranger begins, “You’re quite a mess, aren’t you, Taehyung,”

He crouches beside Taehyung, finally giving the drunk a look at his face.

The stranger is handsome, tall and poised. The smile on his face is wicked and mischievous causing Taehyung’s heart to sink to his stomach.

“You even ruined my coat,” he says, tutting slightly as if scolding a small child, “But I’m sure you’ll make it up to me,”

“Who are you?” Taehyung asks, the feeling of danger boiling in his stomach.

There’s something off about this man, something sinister.

“Why, I’m your guardian angel,” he says, lips stretching even farther in an unnatural grin.

“Tell me,” he continues once it’s clear that Taehyung has no desire to reply, “Do you want to die?”

“Yes,” the fallen man says quickly, startling himself.

It’s a thought that has been bouncing around his skull ever since his wife died, ever since he realized how alone and miserable he’s been.

“Say your prayers, then,” the stranger says.

In the blink of an eye, the other man is on him, hand tangling into his hair and yanking his head to the side, exposing his neck. Pain radiates through Taehyung as long fangs force their way into his neck, red hot pain shooting through his nervous system.

Taehyung tries to scream but the sound is muffled by the stranger’s hand. The vampire’s eyes flutter closed as he draws in mouthful after mouthful, a near euphoric sensation causing a moan to get caught in his throat.

This desperate man has some of the best blood the vampire’s ever tasted and he’s going to drain him dry.

Despite claiming that he wanted to die only moments ago, Taehyung fights back as best he can, feebly punching at the man and trying to dislodge his fangs from his throat. Prey fighting back usually annoys the vampire but he finds himself in a good mood, pulling away to look Taehyung in the eyes.

“I thought you wanted to die,” he says, amusement lacing his tone as his tongue darts out and licks his bloodstained teeth clean, “Have you changed your mind?”

Taehyung nods as best he can, fiercely glaring at the vampire with a passion that makes the other’s toes curl in delight. He’s going to be a lot of fun.

“Let me cut you a deal, then,” the vampire begins, “I’ll save you, make you like me, but you’ll be mine. Do you understand?”

Taehyung nods again, his world slowly turning black.

And then the vampire is on him again, draining him nearly dry before using his fang to tear into his own wrist, placing his dripping arm up to the dying man and forcing him to drink. Taehyung soon becomes greedy, grasping onto the stranger with as much strength as he has, trying to pull more of the pure power into him.

“That’s enough,” the stranger says, attempting to pull away.

Turning someone else always drains his energy.

Taehyung doesn’t respond, trying to keep drinking his blood. Growing angry, the stranger rips Taehyung off of him, raising both of them into the air and over the neighboring harbor, his clawed hands coming up to strangle him.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he growls out, eyes as dark as pitch, “I’m the one in charge. Don’t test me,”

And with that, he drops Taehyung into the water.

“The vampire who changed me is named Namjoon,” Taehyung says, watching YN’s hands tremble as she tries to drink the coffee as he told her too, “He’s an insufferable bastard. Manipulative, selfish, mean. I hated him,”

“Then why,” YN begins, “Did you have him save you?”

Her question is hesitant. She’s equally afraid of asking the wrong thing and asking nothing at all.

“I had no idea what my life would turn into,” Taehyung says, a faraway look in his eyes, “If I’d known how it would go, I would have had him kill me . . . or maybe I wouldn’t have,”

His statement is confusing but YN doesn’t push any further.

“My new life began once I crawled out of the water like a drowned rat. I didn’t notice anything different at first. Namjoon wasn’t there and besides an intense ache in my throat, I didn’t feel any better. So I hauled my ass home,”

He pauses. YN gets the impression that talking about his transformation isn’t something Taehyung enjoys doing. It makes her question why he’s forcing this interview.

“The full moon is when it happened. The blood finally took over me. It was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced. I had escaped into the night and stumbled my way to the cemetery in my back yard. It was a rather morbid time if I think about it,”

“When was this?”

“Seventeen ninety-one,” he replies.

YN tries to hide her shock. The man in front of her is hundreds of years old.

She must have failed because he laughs slightly.

“I’ve aged rather well, haven’t I, Beastie?”

She nods numbly.

“And then the change came. Namjoon appeared. He watched me be ripped apart from the inside and put back together without even flinching. It felt like an eternity, but it was probably a few hours at most. It was still dark when I awoke,”

“What was different?” YN asks, continuing to play her role.

If she somehow manages to escape this diner, she’ll be able to say that she actually had an interview with a vampire.

“Everything,” he says breathlessly, “Everything I thought I knew to be true was a lie. Being human is seeing the world through a filtered, muddied window. Becoming a vampire was like removing the lense. Everything is clearer, sharper,” he lifts his head up, staring at the ceiling, “I can see every flake of paint, every dust molecule drifting through the air. I can hear your heartbeat and the cars on the highway a hundred miles from here,”

“That seems,” YN begins, searching for the right word, “Overwhelming,”

“It was. My whole world had shifted on its axis and started spinning the opposite way,”

Taehyung lay gasping, struggling to pull in air for his burning lungs.

“You can give that up,” Namjoon says, appearing from wherever he’d been hiding and landing softly on the dirt next to Taehyung, “Your lungs don’t work anymore. Stop trying to breathe,”

Seeing as it felt as if the new vampire was suffocating he does as told, holding his breath until his lungs stop screaming.

“You don’t need to breathe any longer,” Namjoon says, leaning over the crumpled Taehyung with a grin on his face, “But I imagine you’re rather hungry,”

It’s as if the words ignited a thirst in Taehyung. He began to claw at his throat as it burned, the need for blood overcoming him.

“Let’s go hunt, shall we? I wouldn’t want my new companion to die of thirst,” Namjoon says jovially, helping Taehyung up and dusting his clothes off.

“You can at least try to be presentable,” he scolds, “You are the head of an estate. You must look the part,”

“How did you know that?” Taehyung asks, eyes taking in all of the new sights and scents he hadn’t been able to register before.

“I know everything,” Namjoon says dismissively.

“Now,” he continues, clapping his hands together, “Follow me,”

And with those final words, Namjoon speeds off. If Taehyung had still been human, he wouldn’t have been able to see him. But his new vampiric sight allowed him to see every step the other took, every swish of his hair as he ducked and dodged branches.

With the thirst growing stronger every second, Taehyung follows him, eager for the feeling to go away. It doesn’t take him long to catch up with Namjoon despite running headfirst into a couple of trees as he tried to get used to his new speed.

Surprisingly, Namjoon doesn’t tease or scold him. The elder vampire simply crouches down at the edge of the forest, looking out into a clearing where a small, shoddily put together house stands. Light blinks in one of the thin windows, Taehyung’s new sight allowing him to make out the candle and the wax that slowly slides down the side.

“Tell me,” Namjoon asks, voice so quiet it would be undetectable by humans, “What do you hear?”

The question annoys Taehyung. He just wants to quench his thirst. But something tells him that Namjoon could end him easily if he stepped out of line. So he obliges, closing his eyes to try and better hear. He picks up the sound of three heartbeats.

“People,” he says, finally, “I hear their heartbeats,”

“Very good,” Namjoon praises, “How many?”

“Three?”

“Wonderful. You’re doing very well, pet. Soon enough you’ll be able to tell even more about prey before you’re anywhere near them. But those skills come with practice. Let’s go eat, hm? The blood in these humans isn’t nearly as delicious as some others, but it will do for now.”

Before any reasonable part of his brain can stop him, Taehyung rushes after Namjoon as they make their way over to the house.

“Now we could just break in and drain them,” Namjoon says to the salivating Taehyung, “But there isn’t any fun in that. Hunting is an art form. Watch.”

The suave vampire raps his knuckles on the door. When it isn’t immediately answered, he knocks again, this time harder. Shuffling can be heard in the small cabin as someone stirs awake, taking the lit candle and peeping through the door hesitantly.

“Hello,” the man begins, clearly confused as to why he has visitors at this late hour.

“Hello,” Namjoon says, barely containing his smile, “My companion and I,” he grips the slightly disheveled Taehyung, pulling him closer, “Were wondering if you could perhaps allow us to stay the night at your wonderful home. You see, we’ve become quite lost and -”

The human slams the door in their faces before Namjoon can even finish. He snarls at the door.

“How rude! And to think, I was going to kill him first so he didn’t have to watch his wife and child die first. Do you see what I get for being so kind?” Namjoon rants, turning to Taehyung.

It’s clear that he wants him to agree. Taehyung nods. The thirst grows more each moment. It’s all he can focus on.

“I’ll draw it out then. Alright,” Namjoon says, ripping the door entirely off of its hinges.

The screaming inside is instant. Namjoon pounces upon the man from earlier, sinking his teeth deep into his flesh. The wife scrambles to protect the screaming child, a boy of eleven or so. But Taehyung is too far gone to process his actions. In the blink of an eye, the new vampire has the woman pinned against the wall, hands squeezing her neck so tightly that it breaks, killing her mid-scream. Taehyung’s mouth aches as fangs push through his gums and find their way into the woman’s shoulder, pulling in mouthful after mouthful. He isn’t sure how long it takes but soon enough her body is completely drained.

The blinding thirst has absolved quite a bit, but it still taunts him, still calls for him to drink more. So he turns to the crying child huddled in the corner, barely registering the joy in Namjoon’s face and the horror in the man’s as he’s forced to watch.

The child doesn’t have a chance. Taehyung bites his shoulder, growing annoyed as he struggles and screams loudly. Without pulling away, he reaches a hand up and crushes his skull, effectively silencing him. After draining him completely, Taehyung licks the streams of blood off his ruined face, sighing in relief at the fullness he feels.

It’s only then when he registers what he’s done.

“My humanity was gone,” Taehyung says, watching the expressions on YN’s face. “Namjoon and I went on a violent killing spree for the first month after my transformation. We killed everyone we came across,”

YN swallows.

How many people must he have killed? Taehyung is over two hundred years old. The number has got to be in the thousands.

“And after I settled into my transformation, once I was free from the desire for blood constantly hanging over my head, I began to hate what I was, what I choose to become. I am a murderer. I steal the lives of innocent people just so I can creep through the night forever. But I could not freely express these emotions. Namjoon was extremely temperamental back then. One wrong word and he’d have me pinned against the ceiling,”

YN chews her lip. She wants to ask more about the relationship between the two men but she also doesn’t want to end up dead on the floor.

“Go ahead, Beastie,” Taehyung prompts, staring at her with eyes too beautiful to belong to a soulless creature such as himself, “Ask your question,”

YN’s cheeks heat up. He’d caught her off guard.

“What exactly . . . was your relationship? With Namjoon?”

Her words are hesitant.

The vampire seems to think for a moment.

“Companions, I suppose,” he says after a pause, “Sometimes more. Often times less. Namjoon always wanted something. He changed me because I had the ability to amuse him. He’d been watching me for quite a while. Namjoon knew the money and influence I held and wanted it for himself. I was nothing more than a plaything for him in the beginning,”

“That sounds toxic,”

“That’s not even the half of it,” he says, laughing a little.

YN supposes that it’s been long enough that he can laugh about it.

“Eventually I grew tired of it,” Taehyung says, becoming more serious, “Namjoon was so happy and I was even more miserable than I was as a human. And one day at dinner I just snapped,”

“Your servants are great cooks. Too bad I can’t enjoy any of the food,” Namjoon says, poking a turkey with a solid silver fork.

A golden goblet sits to his right, filled to the brim with blood. Namjoon’s ringed fingers daintily wrap around the glass’ stem, bringing it to his mouth, his lips painted ruby.

Taehyung sits opposite him, his own glass still full. He cringes internally, thinking of the servants Namjoon put under persuasion to go into the town and kidnap people, only to lock them in the cellar to be used as personal blood bags.

Namjoon shares none of this guilt, jovially chatting away and enjoying his expensive clothes, all bought with Taehyung’s money.

“The decor in here is a little dated, don’t you think, pet? So last century. I say we redecorate,”

“You say a lot,” Taehyung spits, unable to hold his tongue for a moment longer.

Namjoon’s happy expression hardens.

“Oh?”

It’s a challenge, clear as day.

Normally Taehyung would back down immediately, but he’s had enough.

“But you never say anything important. All you do is ramble on and on. Don’t you ever get tired of yourself? I certainly do,” Taehyung snaps.

It feels good to let it all out.

The fork Namjoon had been holding bends in half in his grip.

“You’re an ungrateful brat, you know that?” Namjoon says, struggling to keep his cool, “I give you eternal life and you treat me like this?”

“I’d rather be dead,” Taehyung says, glaring at his ‘savior’.

“That can be arranged,”

And with that, Namjoon launches himself over the table and at Taehyung. The younger vampire was ready, however, and soon a brawl broke out. The two of them completely trashed the banquet hall, Taehyung knocking over a candle and setting the luxurious rug on fire.

The vampires don’t notice, continuing to fight each other viciously. It’s only when the ceiling begins to fall around them that they break away and escape the house fire.

It’s chaos outside as servants scream and search for each other.

“Look what you did,” Namjoon growls, his fancy clothes charred, no longer looking even close to their original glory, “Look what you ruined!”

Taehyung pays his creator no mind, watching his home burn to the ground. It sends a bolt of satisfaction through him. That house was where all his happy memories were, where his human life occurred. It should be turned into ashes, just like his soul has been.

“Weren’t you sad that you lost your home?” YN asks.

By now her coffee is completely empty. She grows slightly more courageous as every minute passes. It’s probably the caffeine.

“It felt liberating. That home was where my old life lived. Being there after being turning was another level of torture I hadn’t known I’d been suffering through until it was gone. Abd the look on Namjoon’s face was absolutely worth it,”

“What happened next?” YN asks him.

She’s beginning to get sucked into the story. It almost seems like a demented fairytale.

“We were penniless. Our days of grand parties and servants were over. I had expected Namjoon to abandon me, but I think he realized sticking around would be the perfect payback for ruining his carefully thought out plan,”

Taehyung taps his fingers against the diner table absentmindedly. He comes back to himself, waving a finger in the air to summon the waitress who promptly refills YN’s coffee.

“Thank you,” the reporter murmurs.

Taehyung smiles again, some unreadable emotion hiding behind his eyes.

“For some time,” he continues his tale, “The two of us wandered about, draining people and using their belongings for as long as we could,”

YN winces.

“I know. It was awful. But at the time, there didn’t seem to be anything else we could do. And then it got even worse,”

“How?” YN asks, fingers warm from her cup.

“A sickness came. It was still the time where one person being sick could take a whole town with them. So of course, the blood quality fell tremendously. Vampires can’t contract illnesses, but diseased blood can make us weaker. It was then,” Taaehyung says, locking eyes with the girl in front of him, “that we met her,”

“Her? Who?” YN asks, feeling entirely naked under his intense gaze.

“Elizabeth,” he says with a fondness reserved for those dearest to his heart.

His entire form brightens considerably.

The town around them looks like it got hit by a tornado. Houses are empty and decrepit, windows cracked and door ripped off of their hinges. Crappy, poorly assembled carriages are turned over in the streets.

“Oh great,” Namjoon says as the two vampires make their way through the ghost town, “Everyone’s already dead,”

The elder vampire steps on a dead body, kicking it over with a pout on his face.

“You whine so much,” Taehyung says, peeping into an abandoned house, seeing if anything is able to be salvaged.

He’s rummaging through a set of drawers, only finding old papers and nicknacks.

“You’re a bad luck charm. I’m sure of it,” Namjoon complains, destroying a wall with a half-assed punch.

“Why are you still here then? You’re absolutely welcome to leave,”

“Oh please,” Namjoon says, laying himself over the younger, “You love me too much for me to leave,”

Taehyung rolls his eyes as they continue going through town, looking for people to drain. By the time they’ve reached the final house, hope is almost entirely lost. It’s been a few days since either of them has had blood, weakening the both of them.

As they enter the last house weak footsteps can be heard.

A willow of a girl steps into sight. Her cheeks are sunk in and her body is so thin that it’s obvious that she hasn’t eaten in a long time. Her skin is dirty and caked in dirt, clothes nearly falling off of her. Taehyung guesses that she’s a teenager.

“Can you,” she begins, “Help my mother?”

Taehyung’s eyes are drawn from her form to the dead body curled up on a stack of straw mats.

“She’s ill,”

A pang of sympathy surges through Taehyung.

“Your mother’s dead,” Namjoon tells the girl bluntly, “And you will be too in just a few moments,”

Before he can attack, Taehyung holds his arm in front of Namjoon’s chest, stopping him.

“Don’t,” he says.

Something about the girl is so innocent and sweet. The sudden urge to protect her overwhelms him.

“You want to kill her?” Namjoon asks, surprised.

Taehyung almost always attacks people over the age of thirty. It helps ease his guilt.

“Leave her,” Taehyung says.

She’s trembling now, huddled next to her mother’s corpse. He pities her. He’d done the same thing when his wife died forty years ago.

A sudden, wicked smile emerges on Namjoon’s perfect face.

“I’ll tell you what,” he begins, not even trying to hide the scheming tone in his voice, “I’ll give you two options. Either you turn her,” he pauses, always one for dramatics, “Or I’ll kill her,”

“No,” Taehyung nearly growls out.

He isn’t sure why but the thought of her death makes him angry. Namjoon has obviously picked up on it and is using that sudden determination to manipulate him.

No matter what, some things never change.

“Try and stop me,” the elder says with a cocky grin.

Even though Taehyung has been a vampire for decades, he’s not nearly as strong as Namjoon. Their numerous fights always end with Namjoon winning and boasting about it for weeks afterward.

Taehyung takes a deep breath, inhaling her scent. She smells absolutely divine, the blood thumping just barely under her skin calling to him. He glances once more at Namjoon before approaching the frightened girl.

“What’s your name?” he begins, crouching down next to her.

“E-Elizabeth,” she stutters out.

Taehyung smiles at her sweetly, trying to calm her down so she’s not as frightened for what’s to come.

“Don’t worry, little Elizabeth,” Taehyung says, “You won’t feel the pain for much longer,”

Her eyes are blown wide as Taehyung opens his mouth wider than what should be possible, his sharp fangs glittering in the moonlight filtering in through the broken window. A scream gets caught in the girl’s throat as his fangs sink into her skin.

Her blood is the best he’s ever tasted. His eyes roll back in his head as she struggles against him. Taehyung wraps his arms around her frail body, careful not to crush her bird bones. The blood is almost too delicious to stop but Taehyung pulls away just in time, force-feeding her his own blood as Namjoon had all those years ago.

Namjoon watches with a satisfied grin on his face, loving the way he can jerk the younger around and bend him to his will.

Because the full moon is tonight, Elizabeth’s transformation is nearly instantaneous. Taehyung watches as her cheeks fill out and regain a healthy, youthful glow. Her hair becomes shiny and her cracked, dirty nails grow to a dainty length.

She’s beautiful.

“Are transformations always this stunning?” Taehyung asks Namjoon, looking at the elder in wonder.

“I’m not sure. You’re the only person I’ve ever been able to successfully change,” he says, “But you became so beautiful,: Namjoon says, voice trailing off as he looks at his companion.

Despite the way they always fight and generally have a giant distaste for each other, Taehyung holds a special place in Namjoon’s cold, dead heart. He feels more alive when the other one is around.

The moment is broken when the girl gasps loudly, waking up.

“I loved her,” Taehyung says, “We both did. She was the breath of fresh air we needed in our lives. We bonded over her presence, but we . . . disagreed over how we should teach her,”

Taehyung takes a breath, looking at the face he adores, noticing how it’s ever so slightly different than before. She’s older than she ever got before, her face a little slimmer, her stature a little taller.

“Soon after we found and changed Elizabeth, there was a boat expedition we managed to sneak onto. Namjoon managed to convince Elizabeth to help him rob some of the richer passengers. While I didn’t agree - robbing from the living is quite different than robbing from the dead - it was enough to set us up with a new life,”

YN is quiet, obviously thinking over his story. Taehyung indulges her, remaining silent as well. If he’s learned anything in his time on earth, it’s how to be patient. Even though she doesn’t know it, Taehyung would never hurt her.

“Was it better? Were you happier once you became reestablished again?”

“The wealth didn’t make much of a difference to me,” Taehyung says honestly, “But Namjoon was ecstatic. And so was Elizabeth. Her entire human life had been lived in squalor, so it was just as foreign as her new abilities. It made Namjoon so happy to spoil her. He’d order new dresses to be made almost weekly and always bought her anything her heart desired,”

He speaks of those times fondly, almost happily. It stirs something in her heart.

“But it made her meaner - crueler. And I couldn’t help but get jealous. She was mine. I’d turned her, I was the one who saved her. And yet Namjoon was jeopardizing her time. So I sweet-talked him, played into his ego and greed and got him to spend more time away from the house. He got into stocks and business, stealing from rich business owners while smiling at them.

“Were you together with her? With Elizabeth?”

“I suppose. Nearly,” Taehyung says, pain evident in his tone and facial expression, “We spent so much more time together. For the first time since meeting my wife, I really connected with someone on a deeper level. We would lay together and just talk about whatever. We’d speculate about the future, talk about how we wanted the world to change. I loved her more than anything and I know she loved me too. But then,”

He falls silent again.

“We’d managed to catch the attention of a local cult. One of the leaders worked with Namjoon and convinced him to bring me to a meeting. We’d expected a normal meeting but were subdued with silver chains and taken hostage. But that wasn’t what made me - us so angry. They’d taken Elizabeth. Took her from our safe home and forced her into captivity,”

YN reaches out to the vampire, surprising both of them when her warm hand touches his cold one. She moves to snatch it away but Taehyung quickly interlaces their fingers, preventing her from moving at all.

“They tortured her,” Taehyung spits bitterly, “And then murdered her right in front of our eyes. They pushed her out into the sun and made us watch as she disintegrated,”

“I’m so sorry,” YN says, heart going out to him.

She knows exactly how it feels to lose a loved one.

“They got what they deserved. Someone slipped up and Namjoon and I were able to escape. We slaughtered them all and set their lair on fire,”

YN squeezes his cold hand, all the fear she’d had at the beginning of his tale gone completely,

“Namjoon and I grew closer after losing her. It was devastating to both of us. We were the only comfort the other had. We’d both lost a lover, a companion . . . a friend. We had to become those for each other. But even still, it was a loss we couldn’t recover from,”

“How long ago was it?” YN asks.

Time does not heal all wounds but it does make it easier to cope.

“About a hundred years,” he pauses, “But something happened recently. I don’t think we’ll feel that pain anymore,”

“Why?”

A ding catches YN’s attention. She’s surprised to see another man, this one even taller than Taehyung. Hs grins at her with a dimpled smile.

“Hello, pet,” he says, voice sending a shiver down the reporter’s spine.

Taehyung doesn’t even look behind him, relaxing instantly.

“Hello, Namjoon,”

YN’s heart rate picks up rapidly. In the blink of an eye, he’s standing right in front of the table.

“I got impatient,” he says, speaking to Taehyung but looking at YN with a smile so wide her stomach flips.

“I’m not surprised,” the other vampire responds.

Something tells YN that there is no chance of escape.

“Make it quick,” YN says, closing her eyes and feeling breathless, “Please,”

She doesn’t want to face her death with open eyes.

There’s movement around her. YN squeezes her fists together.

But no fangs enter her skin. When she opens her eyes, both Namjoon and Taehyung are looking at her fondly.

“We’ve missed you so much, Beastie,” Namjoon says, eyes dialed.

“I - what?” YN asks, confused and terrified.

“I never believed in reincarnation. But here you are. Our sweet little angel,”

All at once, it rushes back to her. The soft way Taehyung had spoken over the hours, the nickname, the way he looked at her.

“I don’t - no,” YN says, shaking her head, trying to run but getting surrounded immediately.

“Don’t worry,” Namjoon says, “You learned to love us once. You can do it again,”

Her voice dies in her throat as two pairs of fangs approach her, sinking into either side of her throat. As the world turns dark, YN hears one a singular sentence.

“You won’t leave us ever again.”

[blacknight1230]

Honeysweet - Hvitserk Imagine

(Y/n) is a young Saxon woman, working as a slave to Queen Aslaug. The Viking woman has tasked you with baking dessert for an upcoming feast. Unfortunately, a certain blonde haired prince is hungry, yet again, and lounging around the kitchen. But is he hungry for your honeysweet treats or your honeysweet body?

“Thrall, come over here!” the tall, skinny blonde woman sitting on top the throne shouted. You hastily got up from your scrubbing position on the floor of the Great Hall and rushed towards the powerful woman sitting at the end of the room. When you reached her, you bowed your head down, refusing to look into her eyes. “Yes, Queen Aslaug?” you asked in a hesitant voice. The blue eyed woman  was not only your master, but ruler of Kattegat and the rest of Norway. You’ve been her slave, or thrall as the Norsemen call it, for a little over a year now, having been captured in a raid on your unsuspecting village in England. Your mind flashed back to that moment over a year ago. 

~Flashback~

You were one of the lucky ones that wasn’t slain or raped by the barbaric Vikings. That was because you and several other woman gathered as many children and women as you could into a hidden room underneath the village’s church, made specifically for this reason. Sadly, while the Vikings were ransacking the church for gold and other valuables, after killing the priest and nuns, a Viking warrior found the door to the hidden room under an elaborate rug. 

Next thing you knew, you were bound and sailing on a Viking ship, the smoke of your burning village behind you. The moment you arrived in Kattegat, you and the other captives were roughly escorted off the boat, forced to walk down the dirt covered pathways. You traveled from the focks to the market square, vendors at the stalls talking in the brutish language of the men of the North. The large men then made your people get into a line. You then noticed a raised platform in the middle of the town’s market where a lanky Saxon man was standing, bound by the wrists, while a crowd of Norse men and woman looked on, calling out in their foreign language. After a minute or so, the man was led off the platform and handed to a bearded man. He gave the other man a pouch of what appeared to be coins. It was at that moment you realized you were going to be sold into slavery. 

The next person to stand in the raised platform was a woman holding her young, crying child in her arms. A Norseman went up to the woman and tried to take the child from his mother, causing the woman to scream and struggle with the burly man. It was fruitless though, as the man was taller and stronger than the thin, tiny woman. Her son was ripped screaming from her arms, causing the woman to fall onto her back, on the floor of the wooden platform. The slave master took a terrifyingly vicious looking whip from somewhere and stalked towards the defenseless woman in hysterics. 

Against all proper sense, you dashed out of the line of captives and towards the platform. One of the warriors standing guard noticed you running and called out to his fellow guards, most likely telling them to stop you. But you were too fast for the muscled giants, their armor and weapons slowing them down. You dodged one giant of a man and leapt onto the wooden platform just as the slave master raised his arm to hit the woman with the sharp tipped whip. You instictly stepped in front of the woman, arm raised to protect your face. You gasped as the whip lashed at your side, tearing clothing and flesh, leaving several deep cuts between your ribs and hips. The slave master yelled at you in his strange dialect, but somehow you were able to stand your ground. The man growled, fire in his eyes, as he raised his arm to strike at you again. You braced yourself for the strike, praying to God that this one wouldn’t hurt as much as the last one. 

But the string never came, instead, the slave master cried out in pain. You open your eyes that subsciously squeezed shut to see that the was on the ground a cut to his thigh. You saw a young man standing over him, his back to you. When he turned around his bright blue eyes caught your (e/c) ones. You felt a connecting to this young warrior, like you’ve almost meet before, or that you two were meant to meet each other. A female’s commanding voice stopped the little moment between you two, causing you both to break eye contact. A beautiful and thin woman, dressed in regal furs and jewelry stood between the parted crowd. She talked to the young blonde haired male standing over the wounded slave master. They started to talk, the female remaining calm and stern as the conversation went on, while the slave master’s tone was angry and frantic. 

The blonde woman turned to you unexpectedly, seeming to stare into your soul. “What is your name, thrall?” she said in the Saxon tongue. This shocked you as you believed the Vikings were unable to speak English. “I-It’s (y/n), my lady,” you stuttered, speaking as if you were talking to an English king or queen. “Why did you jump in front of the whip for this woman? Is she your mother?” the regal lady questioned, her stare piercing your very soul. “No, my lady. She’s just a fellow villager,” you explained as you kept eye contact with the woman. It was like you were enchanted, as you were unable to tear your eyes from her blue ones. “Then why would you so carelessly risk harm to your for her? She obviously holds no significant meaning to you.” “My lady, this poor woman was having her child forcibly taken away from her. Knowing that probably lost everything she ever loved beside her child, I couldn’t stand by to see her be beaten for trying to protect her child,” you said, trying to get her to understand the situation. 

A tense silence followed after you explained yourself, causing your anxiety to rise. The tall woman turned to the slave master, who was now being bandaged up by a young slave girl. They spoke back and forth for a while, until the woman pulled out a large pouch full of coins. She tossed it to the slave master, before she walked to stand in front of you. “I see you have a brave and kind heart, so I’ve taken the liberty to purchase you as my personal thrall. I have also chosen to purchase the woman you protected and her child to work in the Great Hall,” the blonde told you, her facial expressions never changing as she did so. You couldn’t help but smile; this caused the powerful woman to frown and she scolded you. “Do not think you will have it easy. You are still my thrall and I paid good coin for you, so I expect you to work for it. Seeing as that young mother has a child to care for, you’re going to have to work for two. Do you understand, thrall?” she said, talking down on you. “Yes, my lady,” you said, avoiding eye contact now. “From now on you will call me Queen Aslaug, or my Queen. I’m the Queen of Norway and I deserve to be called such,” your new master said. “Yes, my Queen.” 

Aslaug haughty turn away from you, her fur coat flapping around her form, “Come, thrall, I have work for you to do,” she said nonchalantly. You understand that she wasn’t a ver patient woman, quickly running to catch up to her. But before you did, you glanced back at the young mother. She was with her child, cradling him in her arms. The English woman looked up from the child clinging to her neck, her eyes meeting yours. She gave a slight nod a silent thank you being sent your way. A hand gripping your elbow made you tear your gaze from her intense meeting a pair of sharp, blue ones. It was the Viking that protected you from the slave master’s lashing! He didn't say anything and gently pulled you along. 

~End of Flashback~

“Thrall, are you even listening to me?” the voice of the Queen said, snapping you out of your stupor. You looked up at Aslaug, fear in your eyes for getting caught daydreaming. Aslaug sighed and repeated herself. “I said that tonight there will be a feast for the newly arrived Jarl and his men that have voyaged here for an alliance. I would like you to help the cooks prepare the desserts, since the ones you have prepared for the last feast were greatly received,” she ordered. A slight blush made its way to your cheeks for the indirect compliment given to you. Before becoming the thrall of Queen Aslaug, your family was the village’s bakers. From a young age, you were taught to make bread, sweet rolls, honey nut treats and so on. But your speciality was the dessert and sweets. You even experimented with different ingredients to create new desserts and sweets. Now that you were a slave, you didn’t have as much time to continue your hobby, but when you did, it left you in a positive mood. 

Queen Aslaug dismissed you and you harried to the kitchens, practically skipping away. When you reached the kitchens, two elderly servants were already preparing the main courses. One of them turned to you once she heard your footsteps. “Ah, (y/n), come to work your cooking magic again?” she said, a smile on her nearly toothless lips. “More like Saxon witchcraft, Grethe. If Queen Aslaug hadn’t order her to cook, I wouldn’t even allow her in my kitchen,” Ardys, the other elder said. Hag, you thought, but didn’t verbally insult the nasty woman. You were still a slave, despite being one of Aslaug’s favorite thralls, and if Ardys said something to the Queen, you could still get in trouble. 

Both old ladies were the two main cooks of the Great Hall, having worked here since Jarl Haraldson sat on the throne. Grethe was a sweet old lady,  a grandmother of a dozen or so grandchildren bore by her four adult children. Ardys, on the other hand, had no children of her own and was thrice widowed, know as the village’s nasty spinster. You ignored Ardys, as she did not like the English nor trust them, seeing the Saxon slaves as intruders in Kattegat. 

You ignored Ardys, instead you went to a wooden work table, noticing several different ingredients, such as berries and dairy products, were placed on top of it. Usually, you had to gather the ingredients from the barn and garden yourself before you official started cooking. “Grethe, Ardys, where did these come from?” you asked the cooks. “Oh, Brona’s son came by and delivered them for her. She bought some of them from the market earlier today after Queen Aslaug gave her some gold to pay for it,” Grethe said from her spot by the stone oven and huge fireplace, used to roost meats on a spit. In front of her was a pot of stew that was hung over the fire, her wrinkly arms constantly stirring the mixture inside. She turned to you and continued, saying, “Such a sweet woman and child they are. Reminds me of my Hilde and her youngest babe.” 

Brona was the woman you defended from the whip of the slave master a year or so ago. She was used as a simple servant, made to gather items and deliveries from the market, feed the farm animals, etc. Her son, also was made to do simple jobs like this. They both tried to help you as much as they could, almost paying you back for saving them, in a way. You smiled, making a mental note to thank Brona and her child before you go to sleep in the barn, along with the other slaves. 

You started to bake a pie for the feast, mixing the eggs, flour, and milk for the batter. As you continued, you got lost in your thoughts you knew by heart as you created desserts and sweets. Time passed quickly, which you only noticed when the sound of a cleaver hitting a wooden table stopped. You turned around seeing that Ardys no longer was butchering varieties of raw meat and Gretha was no longer standing by the stove. You also noticed you made several flavors of pies, sweet rolls, boiled creme treats, honey nut treats, and apple dumplings. (These probably aren’t accurately what Vikings ate, based om the treats in Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim) Seeing as they were just raw batter filled with berries and so on, you started a new fire in the stone oven. The room started to get hot as you fed the fire, sweat started to form on your brow. 

As you wiped the moisture from your forehead, a voice spoke out over the crackling of the firewood. “Is it hot in here or is it just me?” a masculine voice said. You turned around quickly to see Prince Hvitserk in the doorway of the kitchen. Your cheeks reddened, but not because of the temperature in the room. Hvitserk was one of the sons of Queen Aslaug, a son of the famed Ragnar Lothbrok. Not only was he a Ragnarson, but he was deemed the most available bachelor of the five Ragnarsons. You’ve heard whispers from the other slaves about the alone time they had with the attractive blonde haired prince. Not only that, but Hvitserk was the young man that saved you from the whip of the slave master when you first arrived in Kattegat. It’s no wonder you have a huge small crush on the Viking prince. 

“Prince Hvitserk, what brings you to the kitchen? Are you hungry again?” you asked, trying not to look like a fool on front of him. Hvitserk seemed to stalk towards you, eyes focussed on yours. “You can say that. But I’m not hungry for any food,” Hvitserk flirted. He was now standing in front of you, towering over your nervous frame. You quickly turned around, a blush on your cheeks. “I’m sorry, my prince, but I have to bake the deserts for tonight’s feast,” you said, your forehead now clammy because of the attractive man in front of you. 

You tried to look busy, glazing the rust of a peach pie with honey. You felt Hvitserk move to stand behind you, his chest pressed to your back. “Come on, thrall. I just want a little taste, that’s all,” Hvitserk whispered huskily into your ear. This caused the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on en, goosebumps raising on your arms. “I can give you a sample of some of the deserts for tonight,” you said, quickly trying to turn the subject around. You were somehow able to get away from Hvitserk, pulling out a couple of sweet rolls from the stone oven. You placed them in front of Hvitserk, who’s gluttony made him take a bite of one of them without complaining. Hvitserk’s eyes went wide as he slowly swallowed the bite he took. 

“My prince, are you okay?” you asked. Hvitserk didn’t say anything, just taking big bites from the remaining sweet roll in his hands. He tried to go for the other sweets but you stopped him. “Prince Hvitserk, save some for the guests at the feast,” you pleaded. “I can’t help it,” he replied, his mouth full of food. “It’s so delicious.” Your cheeks turned red at the complement, causing you to hide it with your (long hair/hands). “Your words are too kin, Prince Hvitserk,” you said, not used to the praise. “I’m serious, (y/n),” Hvitserk said, once he swallowed the food in his mouth. You looked at him in surprise; he had never said your name before! You didn’t even know that he knew it! 

The said man got closer to you, again standing over you. He was so close, you could see the short hairs on his upper lip that was the beginning of a mustache. His blue eyes seemed so bright and sparkled in the light of the fire from the stove. For once, those eyes held something else than hunger or lust; it seemed to be admiration. “I knew there was something different about you the moment I saw you in that slave auction,” he said softly. You felt all warm and fuzzy inside, feeling safe in the young prince’s presence. Hvitserk raised a hand to gently move a piece of your hair out of your face, placing it behind your ear. He then used that same hand to cradle your cheek, as he looked down on your shorter frame. Your hands now were gently resting on his chest, the tough texture of leather and roughspun tunic underneath your delicate fingertips. 

“You’re just saying that because you want something from me,” you mumbled, hoping Hvitserk wouldn’t hear you. “And what would I want from you, my sweet?” Hvitserk asked, his mood dampened by your words. “You want my body, but nothing else. You see me as a toy like all the other slaves, only here to quench your endless lust,” you said. Your sudden daringness shocked you, as was Hvitserk, since you were normally polite and quiet. Hvitserk started to chuckle, a smile on his lips, that eventually turned into boisterous laughter.  Your cheeks started to turn red in embarrassment, thinking he was making fun of you. You moved to leave, but Hvitserk caught your arm before you could. “I’m sorry, my sweet. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” Hvitserk apologized, a warm smile on his lips. “I’m sorry, my prince. I don’t know what came over me,” you replied. 

You were nervously sweating again, but this time it was because of your fear for an impending punishment. The Vikings did not tolerate any form of insubordination in their servants and slaves quickly stamping it out with cruel punishments. Your biggest fear is that you were to be whipped repeatedly for back talking the young prince. “You don’t have to apologize, my sweet. But I do expect you to do something for me as a punishment,” Hvitserk told you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and said, “I’ll take my punishment, my prince, for disrespecting you.” 

Please don’t whip me, you pleaded in your thoughts. “Good. Your punishment will be dealt with in stages. For now, you’ll be dealing with stage one,” Hvitserk said,  his voice low and giving you predatory eyes. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip and never in your life have you wanted to kiss someone this badly. “What’s my punishment?” you asked in a breathless voice, subconsciously drawing nearer to the blonde prince. It seems Hvitserk also was inversely leaning closer towards you, as you could smell the sweet smell of sweet rolls on his breath. Hvitserk smirked at you and said, “Your first punishment is to kiss me. And you have to mean it or else.” 

You gulped, nervous about the prospect of doing this ... personal act. But you had to do it; it wasn’t like he was forcing you to have sex together. Your hands shook a little as they rose to grasp the jawline of the man before you. Before the Vikings raided your village, you were never courted by the available young men there. So, that left you unexperienced in the romance department. In other words, you hadn’t had your first kiss yet. And as you were a strict Christian, you devantly didn’t lay in bed with a man before. Hence your nervousness at the current situation. 

You took a calming breath, then closed the gap between you and the blonde prince. Hvitserk quickly rolled you closer to him his hands on your waist. You made a noise at this action, but Hvitserk interrupted it as a pleasured moan. Although you insticated the kiss, Hvitserk was the one in control. Said prince was kissing you passionately, your lips becoming bruised from his ferocity. Oh God, this is not how I expected my kiss to be, you thought as the young prince caught your bottom lip in his teeth. Yet, you enjoyed it for some reason. Lewd sounds filled the kitchen as you both gripped each other tightly as you kissed. You pulled away from Hvitserk, gasping for breath, but Hvitserk wanted to continue. He pulled you back into the kiss, his tongue making his way into your mouth. Your fingers found their way into his golden locks, your nails scraping against his scalp. Hvitserk moaned into your mouth at the sharp painful sensation. 

Before Hvitserk could go any further, you two broke away, breathing heavily as you both tried to fill your deprived lungs with air. When your breathing started to get steady again, you rested your forehead against Hvitserk’s broad chest, basking in his natural scent. The young prince let out a short chuckle, then spoke to you. “You did good, sweetness. You’ve successfully gotten past the first stage of your punishment,” he said, his voice low and husky as he spoke into your ear. “Really?” you replied, raising your head and looking in the prince’s blue eyes. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.” A grin broke out on Hvitserk’s lips, the smile reaching his eyes. “I would have thought otherwise,” he said, laying a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“Now it’s time for stage two, little thrall.” You nodded your head, not fearful for what was about to come. If this stage of your punishment was anything like the one before, you were fine with it. “I’m ready, Hvitserk,” you said confidently. “That’s the first time you’ve called me by my name, sweetness. I like it,” Hvitserk pointed out. You blushed, not realizing that you called him by his name instead of his title. Hvitserk smiled kindly and kissed one of your red cheeks. “In this stage, I would like to court you, to be my lover and possible wife, in the future,” Hvitserk said. “Court me?! Why me and not one of the prettier slave girls, like Margarthe?” you asked, appalled at the suggestion of courtship. “I’ve seen how selfless and hardworking you are, loyal to my mother and my family. And I love your cooking, it makes me feel like it's the closest point to Vahala I will get in my life,” Hvitserk explained, proceeding to give gentle kisses on your cheeks and jaw. Your heart fluttered at how your cooking, something you never bragged about or thought was special, could make Hvitserk feel like it was the closest he’ll get to the heavens, or the Viking’s version of it anyway. 

The Viking prince was very persuasive, you were very tempted to agree to his proposition. But not without getting out your own requirements. “I’ll only agree to this courtship on several conditions. One, is that no other woman may lay with you and you shall remain faithful to me. Two, I will be considered your equal in this relationship, so if I refuse to do something then you cannot force me to do something. Understood,” you commanded. Hvitserk bit his bottom lip and gave you sultry eyes. “Alright, my sweet. I say I quite enjoy you being more brazin, my dear. Makes me want to see how dominate you can be with me,” he said huskily. His hands moved to grasp your butt, his right leg positioning itself in between your legs. You gasped at the action, just as you heard someone shouting Hvitserk’s name. 

Said prince cursed in Norse, as you realized Aslaug was calling for her second oldest son. “I’m sorry, my sweet, but I have to go. Mother, needs for some damn reason. I’ll see you during the feast and I expect you to serve me some more of your delicious desserts,” he told you. “As you wish, my prince.” Hvitserk smiled and gave you one last passionate kiss, before moving to leave the kitchens. Just as the young warrior was about to leave the room, you remembered something. “Hvitserk wait!” you shouted. Said man stopped and turned around to look at you. “What’s the matter, my sweetness?” he asked. “You said there were three stages I had to face. What’s the third stage? When will I have to face it?” you asked, worried that stage three was actually a form of punishment. A naughty smile made its way to Hvitserk’s lips and he chuckled. “Oh, darling, that’s when I finally get to fuck you,” he said nonchalantly. 

Your mouth was agape when you heard this, no words able to make its way past your lips. Hvitserk’s grin grew even more at your shocked expression. “Don’t worry, it won’t happen right way. I think I’ll wait for a little while, maybe it will make the fucking you even better.” And without another word, the viking prince left you, standing shock still in the middle of the room. Your face was hot and you felt your core burn in anticipation. Oh God what have I gotten myself into, you thought as you tried to calm down. 

[psychosistr]

Sparks Fly- Part 1 (CaeJose Dancer! AU)

Part 4 of my CaesarxTrans!Joseph Dacer!AU (I honestly never thought I’d go this far with this little idea, but I can’t bring myself to stop now XD)

Summary: Joseph receives a gift from a secret admirer that may come in handy for her upcoming date with Caesar.

Joseph was relaxing on her couch, reading through the latest issue of one of her favorite detective comics when a familiar, sharp knock sounded at her door. She looked up from her comic with a mildly annoyed frown. “Always right at the good part…” She grumbled but rose to her feet, setting the comic aside on the coffee table for the time being. Joseph really wanted to keep reading, but had learned all too well what hell would await her if she took too long and heard a second knock. “I’m coming!” She called while walking to the door. Opening it without bothering to look through the peep hole, she saw the exact person she expected. “Hey, mom. What’s up?”

Her mother, as usual, invited herself into Joseph’s apartment. Joseph noticed that she was carrying a few envelopes as well as a rather large box. “I picked up your mail while I was downstairs. This one is yours.” Lisa Lisa said while setting the large box down on Joseph’s coffee table.

Joseph cringed slightly when the corner of the box crumpled the page of her comic book a little. “Thanks, mom…” She walked over after closing the door and rescued her poor comic from under the box before poking at it. “Well, at least it’s not ticking.” She commented before going to grab a knife from the kitchen.

“It didn’t feel heavy.” Lisa Lisa idly replied while sitting on Joseph’s couch and going through a few envelopes with her own name on them.

“Didn’t see a return address, so whoever sent it probably didn’t care about it getting lost in the mail. Maybe it’s some of uncle Speedwagon’s cartel friends trying to frame me for something.” Joseph joked as she returned with a small knife and made short work of the box’s tape before opening it. Pulling the flaps open, Joseph peered inside curiously. “…?” Her face lit up with bright, excited eyes and a huge smile. “OH MY GOD!!” She yelled loudly in her excitement, startling her mother slightly.

“What is it?” Lisa Lisa asked after grabbing the envelope she dropped during Joseph’s outburst.

Joseph reached inside and pulled out the contents with an excited grin stuck to her face. “It’s a dress!” She held it out for her mother to see, holding it against herself to get a better idea of how it looked.

The dress was truly stunning. It was a gorgeous mermaid-cut dress in a shade of rivulet green that complimented her eyes perfectly. It was made of satin with long lacy sleeves- the lace weaving together to form patterns of stars in varying sizes all the way from the wrists to the shoulders of the gown. At the shoulders, the lace then straightened into a fine mesh that turned into the illusion-cut neckline above the bust of the dress. The cut of the dress in general looked like it would be very snug, at least until it got to the legs where, for comfort and a bit of sex-appeal, there was a slit just off-center. The way the fabric wrapped and folded around the area would allow for a bit more movement, but also added to the overall look of the green gown by making the remaining fabric just below the knees billow outward in the classic mermaid-dress style. To top the whole thing off, there was a gorgeous design all along the front of the gown- a series of golden beads that spiraled together like a galaxy with its center being on the left hip of the dress and spreading outward along the front of the fabric in a dazzling display.

“My, my..” Lisa Lisa said while looking over the dress slowly from behind her usual sunglasses. “It’s lovely.”

“I know!” Joseph practically squealed while hugging the beautiful article of clothing to herself. “I’m gonna go try it on!” She announced while running back to her room to change. She didn’t even wait for a reply from her mom, she was just too excited! She quickly changed out of her shorts and tee-shirt and slipped into the gorgeous gown. Once she had it on and smoothed her hands down the sides to make sure it was wrinkle-free, she looked at herself from all angles using the full-body mirror in her walk-in closet. “Hey, mom, come check this out!”

She was practically bouncing with excitement! This was incredible! She wasn’t a “girly-girl”, by any means, but she loved to dress up every now and then and feel pretty- and this dress made her feel downright beautiful!

She heard the clicking of her mom’s heels and turned to face her when she entered. Lisa Lisa looked her over from head to toe with a small, caring smile. “It suits you, Jojo.”

Joseph grinned, practically beaming with pride as she turned back to look at herself in the mirror once more.

It really did suit her: The color, as she already suspected, complimented her eyes perfectly, almost matching them in shade. The gold of the beads combined with the green of the fabric made her think of her favorite green and yellow scarf. The dress was already perfectly fitted to her every curve and angle, showing her figure off in a very flattering way and even cupping her chest just right to be appealing without too coquettish. To top everything off, the dress was actually COMFORTABLE. Yeah, it was definitely satin for the main material, but it had to be mixed with something else because it stretched and moved so seamlessly and comfortably whenever she moved that there had to be some sort of elastic or nylon or something- especially along the arms and shoulders.

“Yeah,” She said with a smile while doing a quick twirl to see the fabric swish and flutter around her long legs. “It does!” She held one arm out and traced her fingers along the lace designs. “I wonder who sent it..”

“This may shed some light on the matter.” Lisa Lisa said while holding up a small white rectangle between two fingers.

Joseph turned to her again and took it with a curious expression. “A card?” She looked over the fancy script on the little card and read the words aloud. “A beautiful lady deserves an equally beautiful dress. May this help you shine ever brighter, Miss Joestar. –Forever Yours, CAZ”

Lisa Lisa’s lip quirked up slightly as she raised an eyebrow. “Your secret admirer again?”

“Yeah, looks like it.” Joseph said while turning the card around to make sure there was nothing written on the back. As usual, there was nothing else but the simple message.

Joseph was all too familiar with the style of writing and the pen name by now. For the past two years, ever since she was about sixteen, she would receive gifts like this: There would be bouquets of flowers sent to her dressing room after shows, many of them beautiful and quite expensive- she would often take her favorite flower from each bouquet, preserve it, and turn it into one of her hair clips. For her birthday and Christmas she would receive jewelry that was sized to fit her perfectly- the stones alternating between diamonds, emeralds, and her birthstone, sapphires. Each gift would be accompanied by a card with a sweet message but no return address- all signed CAZ.

At first she had been confused by the gifts. Receiving such lavish, expensive gifts from an anonymous stranger? Why would someone go to that much trouble and not even put their name? Was it technically creepy that someone sent her that stuff constantly? Her studio and home address were both public record, so it’s not like it was stalking or something (at least as far as she knew) and the gifts were nice.

Also, the cards he sent to her..well..they made her feel better.

Around the time she’d received her first bouquet from CAZ, she had publicly come out about herself. It was met with…mixed reviews, to put it extremely nicely. Her family already knew and each and every one of them accepted her. She told herself that was all that she needed, but dealing with the constant mocking, harsh insults, and disgusted stares whenever she went out in something that was more comfortable for her or when she performed her first few shows in the correct tights and leotards…it…it started to wear on her. Then, like a beacon of light in a dark tunnel, a bouquet of pink roses and lilies arrived at her dressing room one evening with a note that said “You are the beautiful star the stage deserves- let no one ever tell you otherwise, Miss Joestar. –Forever Yours, CAZ”

It was the first time someone outside of her family had referred to her correctly and it made her so happy that she broke down in tears. It was such a small thing, a card with some pretty flowers, but it meant the world to her at the time because it was just what she needed to hear. The knowledge that there were other people out there besides her family that would support her, even if it was only one other person at the time, gave Joseph the courage and strength she needed to get through that difficult time in her life.

In the end, she decided to just accept the gifts and wait to see if the guy sending them ever revealed himself. He hadn’t yet, so she was left to imagine what he was like. He had to be someone kind and thoughtful for constantly sending such expensive gifts, right? Whoever this CAZ was, she’d love to meet him in person one day and thank him for both his presents and his kind words.

Joseph felt her mother pinch at the fabric on her shoulder to inspect the dress herself. “Well, he certainly spent quite a bit of money on you this time- this looks like a custom order.” She looked up at Joseph over her sunglasses. “You know..this is actually quite sophisticated. If you wanted to wear this for special events, it would be perfect.”

The way she said that made Joseph flinch a little. Guess she was still a little sore about what happened to her suit before. It was expensive, after all…

“Ahaha, oh yeah? Wow, what a lucky break.” She gave a nervous laugh, shriveling slightly under her mother’s piercing gaze. Then, with a gasp, a thought occurred to her. “Oh my god!” She looked herself over in the mirror, her excited smile back again. “I can wear this on my date with Caesar!”

Her mind was already racing with thoughts of what jewelry to wear with it. Oh! Maybe those golden stud earrings with the emeralds! Yeah, those would be a good start. She could pair it with that nice cocktail ring that looked like an emerald flower with a diamond in the center. The sleeves were long enough that she wouldn’t really need any bracelets, but maybe she could wear one of her necklaces? Nothing that would hang too low, of course, what with the collar of the dress- oh! She had that black choker with the small rows of diamonds, that would look good if she paired it with some black stockings or shoes and-

“So, you have a date with Caesar? When were you going to tell me about this?” Her mother’s voice was like being stabbed in the back with an icicle, making her shudder a bit.

“Ummm…probably after it was over?” She answered with a nervous smile while looking at her mother’s reflection in the mirror. “It just kind of came up while he was here. Not like I meant to keep it a secret or anything, I just kind of…forgot to mention it?” She felt a little bad about that, but, like she said, she didn’t MEAN to forget..

“Hmh..” Lisa Lisa’s lack of a direct answer for an extended period of time made Joseph squirm uncomfortably with the weight of guilt that was being placed on her. After a minute, though, her mother sighed and patted her back with a calm smile. “It’s fine. You’re a grown up now, and are allowed to make your own decisions.” She smirked ever so slightly, her tone teasing. “Just remember not to put out on the first date- make him work for it.”

Joseph’s face turned red and she hid it in her hands with a groan. “Mooooooom! That’s just- augh, I can’t even-!” She groaned again and hid her face deeper into her palms. She could hear her mom chuckling smugly over the ringing in her own ears and, after a moment of breathing to calm herself, she looked back up at her a little bit, peeking between her fingers. “Hey..mom..?”

“Yes, Jojo?” She replied, still looking rather amused with herself.

“On Saturday..could you..y’know..help me with my hair and makeup? I wanna make a good impression and, well, you’ve seen what it looks like when I do it myself…” Joseph liked how she did her own makeup for shows, but she was aware that it was a bit over the top for every-day application.

Lisa Lisa gave Joseph’s back another comforting pat. “Of course, Jojo.”

Joseph managed to smile a little bit. “Thanks, mom.”

She still felt nervous about the date, but she was determined to make a good impression, no matter what- and this thoughtful gift from CAZ would certainly help!

<-Previous Story Next Part->

-From the Beginning-

[geminicblue]

20 Galaxies: Legend in the Sky Chapter 14

The Hadley house seemed much busier than it should have been with only three people in it, mostly due to Ru's mother. Her mother always left an article she needed buried in a pile or her press badges in odd places, not easily remembered. Pizza was the order of the night, which Ru and Jayson never objected to. Ms. Hadley pinned a slice between her own teeth as she went for her shoes.

Ru chewed absentmindedly, rummaging through a book she'd checked out from the library. It was the oldest book she could find on the history of Quarterhill, from the school library, not very old. Jayson leered across the table at it. "It's rude to read at dinner, you know."

"Don't the teachers ever yell at you when you don't take your hat off inside?" Ru retorted.

"Whatcha reading?"

"It's a secret."

"OK," Jayson replied through a mouthful. "Hey, want some seafood?"

"Jayson, don't do that," Ms. Hadley groaned.

"Hey Mom?" Ru turned away from her book, just in time to catch her mother before she scuttled off to another room. "Who is that guy up on Main Street who's always yelling at everyone?"

Ms. Hadley rushed out without answering, then returned with a folder and set it on the counter next to the empty pizza pan. "Older man? Blond, lives across from the park on Cardinal Street?"

"Yeah! It's a tan house with a big porch."

Ms. Hadley frowned. "Why do you want to know about him?"

Ru was taken aback by her mother's alarmed expression. She didn't especially want her mother to know she'd been talking to a stranger. Her mind worked quickly. "My friend Kenna lives by him and she's kind of scared of him."

"He's just angry about town politics, hon. He wouldn't hurt your friend." Ms. Hadley sounded like she was trying to convince herself. "He's a veteran, so try and show him a little respect, OK? Jan's going to be over in a little bit. I'll see you in the morning. Love you."

"Bye, Mom," Ru and Jayson answered in unison.

Jan had been their sitter before Kelly, before getting a full-time job at a factory. Ru was surprised she was actually looking forward to seeing Jan again. Jan told Ru as many useful things about Mr. Hadley as Mr. Tesla did.

"What's Mom doing today?" Ru asked after the garage door had hummed shut.

"Breaking news," Jayson said. "Something about the President."

Ru let her pizza slice sink to her plate. "I wish she could stay for dinner more."

Jayson shook his head. "Yeah, but then we wouldn't be eating pizza. It's be like brussel sprouts or something."

"Mom hates brussel sprouts. She wouldn't make us eat them."

"She'd make us eat some vegetable." Jayson picked up his last piece. "Why'd you ask about that guy?"

"He said something weird to me today. Remember this?" She touched the eagle pendant. "It might be his."

"Really?" A strange expression formed on Jayson's face. "You ever seen him in a red coat?"

Ru's mind prickled. "Why do you ask?"

The front door creaked open.

Their heads whipped towards the door, then their eyes met. Ru got up and stopped before she even left the kitchen. The front door was open wide, the cool evening air pouring in around a woman on the front porch. With the porch light off, Ru couldn't see much about her. The woman had long hair in a high ponytail, and a long coat that waved oddly in the wind, as if it was made of something stiffer than cloth.

"Hey, you're not Jan," Ru said sharply. "Go away!

The woman held out a hand. "You forgot these."

Jayson started towards the door, but Ru blocked him with an arm. The stranger turned her hand over, revealing a handful of sparkling red and green crystal. "Oh!" Jayson said. "Those aren't mine -- wait, how do you know I turned those in?"

The woman took a step forward and opened her mouth to speak.

Her voice was engulfed by blue light that suddenly burst from her chest. Her body was swallowed in a silent flash. Ru yelped and nearly knocked Jayson over as she jumped back. The wind pushed the door open again.

"One is yours, of that you are well aware," the Blue Star said. Light wisped off its surface like thick steam.

The crystal lay on the floor. Pendants, just like the one Ru had around her neck. Jayson, without a trace of fear, approached them. Ru noticed she was not nearly as terrified as last time, though she was wary.

Jayson bent and picked up the red crystal. A wolf's head. As soon as he straightened, a thin beam shot out from the core of the Star and grazed it, as well as Ru's pendant. She stood frozen, but felt nothing, as if the beam was simply light. When the beam vanished, Jayson's pendant had changed. It was a round symbol, a silver four-point star surrounded by four white, feathered wings, supported by a gold hoop and held together in the center by a red gem. She lifted her own pendant and saw the same symbol, only with a blue gem.

"Follow me," the Star said.

"Why?" Jayson demanded.

"You are in danger." The Star's voice was calm but stern. "You will gain nothing by hiding here. Your door was locked when I arrived."

There was no doubt in Ru's mind, for once. Jayson, however, stood where he was, his eyes shadowed by his hat. At last, he smiled. "Well, since we're dreaming, we might as well go."

Ru knew the Star was anxious. She did not know how. It was the same feeling when she understood it was looking at her, even though it had no eyes. Was the woman still in there somewhere, just behind the light? The Star floated down the driveway and she went after it. She heard Jayson close the front door before he caught up.

Her head was fuzzy, warm, her feet light. There was no sound. Ru realized just how much she could usually hear at night, cars, crickets, dogs barking, breezes tickling leaves. Their own footsteps were softened. What more, all light was blue. The streetlights were a dull navy, porch lights dim and icy, shining on the street like moonlight on snow. Even the stars, peering out from the gaps in the thin clouds, were all tinged with blue. There were no smells, the wind had died. It had to be a dream, like Jayson said, but despite her fuzzy head she was aware. It felt real. Every leaf resting in the grass was clear to her, every brick and tile of the houses they passed. She pinched her own arm with her short, uneven nails. The pain was sharp, but the world did not change.

The Star approached a tall gate. Ru vaguely recognized it was the gate in front of Breckenridge. She was shocked to see Colleen waiting behind the gnarled iron vines. Her ever-present dolphin pendant was no more, replaced with the same winged symbol Ru and Jayson had received. The gem gave off a rosy glow that illuminated her face just a bit.

"Colleen, what are you doing out here?" Ru asked in a low tone. "Won't you get in trouble?"

Colleen's voice seemed to be coming from a more distant person. "I had a dream. It's all happening here. Even my pendant turned into -- this." She sounded sad but accepting.

"When?"

"I fell asleep after I got to my room today. All we need now is --" she raised her head. "--a little boy with red hair."

"OK, look. I'm not little."

Randy sauntered up to the group. "The other belongs to him," the Star told Jayson.

Ru's face fell. "You had to bring him?" she grumbled at the Star.

The Star smiled an invisible smile. "It was not my choice."

Randy took the dragonfly pendant with some hesitation. When the Star changed it, it blazed with neon green light. Randy blinked, unfazed. "Yeah, I'm not an expert on jewelry or anything -- Carmody pendants are supposed to be special, but they don't glow."

"We must go to the Quarterstone."

"But the gate's locked," Colleen said.

She jumped as the bulky lock at her hand gave a piercing plink, and the gate groaned as it inched open. She took a small step outside, biting her lip, looking all around, and rushed to Ru's side. As if Ru could do anything to stop the Breckenridge house mothers, should they see Colleen leave, or the Star if it had ill intent.

The Star lead them through the botanical gardens, through the tunnel that went to the back of the visitors center. Even the forest was silent, no tourists, no owls. The children huddled together as they walked towards the stone, though Ru still didn't feel particularly fearful. She watched the ceiling of the leafy tunnel pass by, counting down the seconds to when it was too late to turn back.

A gentle ivory light shone from the Quarterstone's end, just barely visible beyond the fires of the Star. It was the stone itself. It was radiating enough just enough light to touch the tops of the trees. Sort of like an Aurora Pool, Ru thought, it looked like a lake of light on the ground.

"What you know as the Quarterstone," the Star said, "is known elsewhere as a gatestone. You are the only ones in the city who can use it now. Stand on it."

All but Randy hesitated. He shot the others an annoyed look. "Isn't this the part where people disappear?" Colleen asked.

"Who cares?" Randy laughed. "The legends say the Star sounds like a monster. Obviously that isn't true."

"We have little time," the Star urged.

"Come on," Randy said. "Even if no one ever hears from us again, we'll be the only people in town that know the truth."

"If we're not disintegrated," Jayson said in a disturbingly calm voice.

Randy gestured towards the Star. "We already know the Star exists now. You can't tell me you don't want to know more."

"It's a dream," Jayson said flatly.

Ru rounded on him. "If you're so sure it's a dream, why are you worried about being disintegrated?"

Jayson opened his mouth, but Colleen spoke first. "It's not a dream. I know what a dream feels like from the inside. Whatever happens to us here is real. That's why we should be careful."

The Star shifted. Ru didn't like it. It seemed to be scanning the trees, and though any nervousness she had was numbed by the pendant, her imagination was in full form. Anything could be in that dark forest beyond. She stepped up on the stone. Jayson eyed her placidly, then did the same. Colleen was the last, cringing as she placed her second foot on the stone. Stepping on the stone had not been forbidden by park authorities, but Ru recalled a legend or two mentioning it was bad luck, along with some dubious examples to go along. A man's car was stolen from the parking lot after he'd walked over it. A child playing on it tripped and broke an arm. Ru's mother said to stay off of it, and her first step felt like she was climbing up on the kitchen table.

The instant Colleen's foot touched down, wind gushed in from all directions. The trees whipped into a fury, leaves fluttered and spun around them as the stone's glow intensified. The four gave cries of surprise as fire burst up from the edges of the stone, a high, flowing circle of glistening flame that seemed to be all colors at once. Pressure built, the wind changed direction, coming from beneath them instead of swirling around them. Ru felt lighter than ever, almost as if her shoes were lifting off the stone. A white beam of light shot into the sky.

All the noise, light, and wind died away. Ru was facing the outside of the stone now, her back to her friends. She was suspended in the air a few inches above it somehow, everything frozen but her mind. Then the suspension broke, and they stumbled away from each other. The Star was gone.

The first thing Ru did was look up, and her breath caught when her eyes found the sky. Even blocked by a cover of long, narrow leaves, the sky sparkled with an intensity she had never seen before, even in her dreams. The air was thicker and warmer, and carried the scents of salt water and strange flowers.

"What happened?" Colleen gasped. "Ru?"

"Wait a minute." Randy was looking to the sky too. "Where are we? The park?"

They all took tentative steps forward, squinting at the foliage beyond the stone. The ground was sandy, soft, and warm, dazzling in the intense starlight. There was a short clearing nearby, surrounded by short, leafy bushes and trees with slim, limber trunks. A path ran off into the woods, and beyond there were small yellow lights like frozen fireflies.

"These look like palm trees." Ru scrutinized the broad leaves above. "The park is too far north for those."

"This is the only continent of the planet Aereka."

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

[lilibug--xx]

Lemon Drops and Chocolate Chips

CHAPTER 5 — bughead neighbors au

Alright, sorry this took so long everyone! But it's here, finally! Thank you @strix​ for being my beta and my bff and for helping me when I've lost all direction. 

Read it on ao3 here, or search the tag #BHlemondrops on my blog to read the previous chapters there. This one has some flashbacks which was hard for me to write for some reason! But, I hope you guys like it. 

 She couldn’t breathe.

It felt like she was underwater; the rush of it filling her throat, leaving her breathless, gasping, choking for a breath of air. Her knees were weak, and there was nothing Betty  wanted more than to sink to the floor in a boneless heap, but she was rooted to the spot.

She was hyper-conscious of all the points of her body, simultaneously feeling dazed and muddled. Betty was aware of a pair of hands gripping her biceps tightly, holding her in place. She felt the strong warmth — a pleasant burn against the way her skin had turned clammy and chilled.

“... Betty...”

She blinked against the black spots in her vision until she found her gaze focusing on the tiled floor of her kitchen. There was a pair of black combat boots filling her vision and her stomach filled with dread. No, not my kitchen. Betty squeezed her eyes tightly shut as her body began to shake.

“... Betty,” she heard it that time, a distinctly male voice. Rough with unbridled emotion — concern, she realized, absently. Jughead, she thought with a start. Immediately she felt stupid, small, uneasy with the way things things had turned south so quickly. Betty never meant for this to happen — for his sweet kiss that she was desperate for, to trigger her into an unwelcome embrace of the past.

Her teeth were biting hard into her cheek, the coppery tang of blood sharp on her tongue. She licked her lip, sucking a breath of air in through parted lips when she realized her lungs were burning.

Betty was getting glimpses of the past she had tried so hard to move on from.

She was trapped — arms caging her in against the kitchen counter of a rundown apartment. It was dark, dingy, musty — the smell in the air a mix of chemicals and burn of smoke. Betty was looking down at big brown eyes as she pressed herself against the counter as hard as she could to create space between them.

“My sweet girl Friday, why so scared? Afraid I’m going to bite too hard?”

Betty’s lower lip trembled and her eyes widened. The dark gaze in the other girl's eyes was anything but playful.

Betty shook her head, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes.

“Jughead,” she choked out, a desperate plea. She was spiraling down and needed something to ground her.

His thumbs brushed her arms in a soothing manner. She focused on the press of the pads of his fingers against her, how the touch was gentle and comforting.

“Sweetheart, I’m here,”  His low voice brought a relieved sigh to her lips as she forced herself take a deep, agonisingly slow breath. She unclenched her hands, flexing her fingers experimentally.

“I’m so, so sorry. Obviously I hadn’t intended  for this to happen...”

Betty wanted to apologize to him; for the situation. Instead, she  choked back a sob — her emotions starting to unravel from the gentle, precarious hold she had just gathered on them.

Shaking her head, Betty sucked in a sharp breath, her words spilling out in a rush. “Don’t be sorry, please. None of this is your fault. At all. I promise ”

Then, the memories assaulted her once again; before she had time to do more than grip Jughead’s forearms to hold herself upright.

.

.

.

“Please. Please, just let me go home… ”

“Ah, ah, ah. Betty, baby, what would the others say?” Slender fingers with sharp, tapered nails traced the outline of the dark blooming bruise on Betty’s jaw where the other girl had backhanded her earlier.

“I told you: I’m not your baby anymore.”

Despite the shake of her hands at her sides, her own nails digging into the flesh of her palms, her voice was steady — defiant.

“We’re over, Toni. You chose the Serpents over me, let them lead you down a path you won’t let me help you escape. So, I’m done. I’m. Done. We are done.”  

She was impressed with herself then, managing not to let her voice crack or let the other girl’s snarling lip interrupt her. Toni was stunned enough by her courage that Betty was able to duck under her arms and head toward the door.

A hand grasped her wrist tightly, yanking her backwards. Betty hissed as she was pulled around, Toni’s grip a bruising punishment.

“You’re going to regret this, Cooper.”

“Doubt it, Topaz,” Betty snarled, showing her teeth, “I am so much better alone than I ever was with you. But you? There won’t be anyone to help you when you overdose. Or when this sick gang decides they want to push you past your limits. I won’t be crying over you anymore.”

.

.

.

They were happy, once, Betty was sure. They must have been.

Their beginning was sweet: Full of hesitant touches, lingering gazes; the subtle up-and-downs they would give, checking each other out.

They were total opposites besides the glaringly obvious.

Skirts, converse, ballet flats, sweaters, jeans, lace dresses, delicate jewelry, all soft and pastels. Blue eyes and golden hair.

Chunky boots, ripped jeans, flannel, studs and spikes, leather, and black black black. Caramel skin and brown eyes.

They had fallen in love slowly, gradually, day by day; it was an inevitable collision. Dancing around each other until the other was sure there must be something more behind those sweet smiles and hesitant lip bitings.

.

.

.

The first time she walked in and saw Toni with a syringe between her teeth and a tourniquet tightly looping around her bicep — Betty wanted to violently retch, so tightly had the swirling mix of apprehension and concern twisted within her. She couldn't believe things had turned to this. They had screamed at each other for what felt like hours, until Betty cried herself to sleep after the door slammed shut. Toni didn’t say where she was going, but she didn’t have to, Betty knew.

.

.

.

The first time Toni put her hands on Betty in a threatening manner, it had scared her more than the drugs did. (A fact which was, in retrospect, quite telling about the state of their relationship in and of itself.)

The smaller girl’s purple-stained talons were digging into the skin of her waist and drawing lines that welled up with sticky red, making bruises in delicate pale skin. She had screamed for Toni to stop, but instead found herself earning a swift crack across the cheek, splitting it. The blow was harsh, rough, the sting lingering well into the next day.

In the moment though, it had silenced Betty, as it had intended to.

.

.

.

They had always enjoyed each other’s bodies. All soft curves and delicate, smooth skin. Betty had never told her mother when she started dating Toni, afraid of what her family would think.

These days, she longed for the days when she worried about the choice of her partner’s gender. She would take it over worrying whether her girlfriend would show up high and loving, or angry and rough. Neither was a combination Betty liked.

They had fit well together at first — Toni’s head tucking under Betty’s chin when they lay in bed together. The contrast of their appearances was appealing, endearing even.

Toni loved to buy Betty a plethora of pink — it was surely her favorite color, despite her protests that it wasn’t. Betty was always thankful, even though it was never her favorite. Years of having it pushed on her by her mom, and now Toni.

Perhaps, she should have taken the hint when Toni brushed her feelings on the matter aside, despite multiple protestations of otherwise. Hindsight was 20/20, as they say. And Betty was in love.

.

.

.

It started to go downhill when Betty realized Toni was going through with the initiation into the gang she had been hanging around with. Betty had never liked the Southside Serpents. But it was because they were drug dealers and pushers, an embittered, violent, and angry lot.

Toni’s uncle was apart of the gang, however, and despite her insistence that membership was voluntary — she had proclaimed she wasn’t going to ever join — Toni had fallen into their insidious web.

When the other girl came home with a black leather jacket around her firmly-set shoulders, walking with a limp, Betty knew. She didn’t have to see the large snake tattoo winding its way up her girlfriend’s thigh, or the piercing red of the snake’s eyes on the patch sewn into the jacket. The split lip and bloodied knuckles — the look of exhaustion. It was enough.  

Betty didn’t know — didn’t want to know, what initiation entailed. She didn’t want any part of this. Despite Toni’s protests that this new part of her life would never touch Betty, she knew it was lie.

.

.

.

Her initial attraction to Toni was always something Betty was surprised by.

Betty was never into labels and as such had a hard time classifying herself. She let her feelings and thoughts guide her on matters of affection and attraction, not public opinion.

They had met in a Statistics class their freshman year of college. Betty being ever so prepared, had everything she could possibly need for class. She had sat herself in the third row, one seat in from the aisle — not too ambitious, but not lackadaisical either.

Ten minutes into the lecture a girl with flannel tied around her waist, skin on display in a crop top, sat in the empty chair next to Betty.

There was a lot of shuffling, papers, books, the rustle of fabric. Betty furrowed her brows, trying to block out the noise as she pressed her pencil against the paper a little bit harder.

“Hey, you got an extra pencil I could borrow?”

Betty turned to the girl with a frown on her face. Of course she had an extra. The frown on her lips twitched as she drank in the sight of the other girl. Brown hair tinted pink in the least obnoxious way possible — like strands of cotton candy, Betty thought absently.

She handed over the pencil she was writing with, the other girl plucking it from between her fingers.

“Thanks, doll.”

Betty scrunched her nose up, reaching down for another pencil from her bag resting at her feet.

“You’re welcome,” Betty muttered. She was nothing if not polite.

The class went on, Betty took pages of notes. She kept growing frustrated with the fact that the girl next to her (who had been late) was just twirling the pencil between her fingers all class, only a few things scribbled in her notebook that Betty kept glancing at.

Betty didn’t realize the class had ended, or that she had stopped writing. Instead she found herself staring at her pencil that the other girl was holding out to her. She blinked, green eyes trailing up to brown. There was a smirk on the girl’s lips, mirth in her big brown eyes. Betty admired the way her eyelashes fluttered with the tilt of her head.

“A little lost in your head?”

Betty shook her head, snapping out of her thoughts. “Guess I wasn’t really paying attention to the lecture at the end there,” her fingers grasped the end of the pencil, tugging. It stayed firmly in the other girls grasp and Betty felt sparks of fire tremble up her arm when the girl leant forward, her other hand planted on the desk as she got closer to Betty’s face.

“Careful. Might have to pop a button on that sweater, loosen you up.”

Betty’s cheeks flushed and she tugged the pencil out of the other girl’s hand. “Yeah, I got it,” she grit out, her jaw already feeling achy from the clench of her teeth.

The pink-haired girl laughed and if the sound wasn’t so pleasant Betty might have wanted to punch her.

“I just mean you need to relax. See you Friday, pretty girl,” the smirk making her skin burn pleasantly hot, brown eyes lingering before she turned away.

Why was it that Betty was so excited for Friday now?

.

.

.

Shaking her head, Betty leant forward into Jughead’s comforting embrace. She wasn’t sure when they had moved to sit on the couch, or when she had snuggled into his chest, but despite the unfamiliarity of the position, she wasn’t complaining. He had one arm wrapped around her shoulders holding her protectively. The heavy, solid weight felt nice against her and she sighed softly into his shoulder.

His other hand was resting over her balled up  fists, in the small space between them. Betty was gripping the couch cushion harshly with her fingers, and she let go when she felt the ache in her knuckles. Jughead’s thumb immediately smoothed down the backs on her hands brushing the wrinkles of her skin soothingly.

“Hey,” he whispered, “Welcome back.”

Betty relished the smooth tone of Jughead’s voice flooding her ears. Taking another deep breath, which included an inhale of his heady scent — the pine and paper doing wonders to ease her mind.

“Jug, I am so sorry,” her voice got stuck in her throat, her eyes threatening to well with tears again. Strong hands gripped her biceps, pushing her gently back so that they could look at each other.  

“It’s okay, Betts. Nothing to be sorry for. Just take some time to decompress.”

Nodding at his sincere words, (her heart aching wondrously at the nickname he’d used) Betty wiped under her eyes with her fingers. “Okay… thanks, Juggie,” she employed her own, searching his face afterward for any discontent.

The smile that took over Jughead’s face was telling and it made her lips quirk up despite the situation.

“Should you eat something or..." his words trailed off and Betty gave a small shrug.

“Just… just don’t leave me alone yet. Sometimes the memories keep coming, even after my attack has passed.”

Jughead nodded, his thumbs brushing the skin of her arms absently. Raised goosebumps prickling her skin under his ministrations.

Betty appreciated the metaphorical space he was giving her by not asking questions; and enjoying the physical comfort of his closeness at the same time. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to calm the raging waters of her thoughts — like deep waves lapping at her toes in soft, warm sand.

Opening her eyes, she met Jughead’s — a smoky grey in this light and angle. “Can we… lie down? Here, on the couch?”

Seeming to think for a moment, Jughead then scooted back so he was sitting in the corner of the couch. Betty stood as he made himself more comfortable, slouching down and pulling his legs up and stretching out. His arms opened invitingly and Betty stretched herself out beside him, resting  on her side, her front pressed to his side.

One of Jughead’s arms curved around her shoulders, the other settling just along his hipbone and thigh. In a brazen moment, she considered grasping his hand with hers. But Betty thought better of it and curled her arms up to her chest, her fingers twisting in the side of Jughead’s soft, worn t-shirt.

In the quietness, Betty was calm. The sounds of their breath and gentle ticking of the clock hanging on the wall behind them, the soft hum of the tv.

Betty closed her eyes; not opening them again until sometime later.

Her body felt stiff and she wanted to stretch out her limbs, to uncurl herself like a cat. She realized that her and Jughead hadn’t seemed to have moved a muscle save for his arm that hadn’t been around her shoulders. It was curved behind his head like a pillow, similar to how she seemed to be using his chest as hers. Which, she noted appreciatively, was very firm.

Craning her neck, Betty looked to the clock hanging on the wall above them. It was late, just after 11.

In the soft light of Jughead’s apartment, she looked to his face. He was still sleeping — peacefully, she noted, with a serene calmness. His features that seemed tense and hard during the day were soft and worry-free now. Betty couldn’t stop the hand that reached up to smooth her thumb along the crinkle by his mouth, a frown line that she wanted to rub away.

Her hand raised higher, gently tracing the sharp angle of Jughead’s cheek with two fingers now, up the side of his face. Brushing back a lock of inky dark hair, Betty pushed her fingers into the rest of his hair. His beanie had come off at some point — she wasn’t sure when. The strands of his hair felt like silk, and begrudgingly, she thought about how much softer his hair was than hers.

Jughead seemed to stir under her actions and her hand stilled, her fingers still buried in his hair. He only seemed to nuzzle slightly into her hand, a sleepy sigh falling between his parted lips.

A smile bloomed on her face, the giggle welling up in her throat, becoming difficult to swallow. Betty ran her hand through his hair a couple more times before curling her arm back and relishing the warmth of being tucked into Jughead’s side.

She knew she needed to go, that she couldn’t just close her eyes and go back to sleep — no matter how much she really wanted to.

So — Betty carefully unfolded herself from the couch and from Jughead’s arm around her. She tucked his elbow against the cushions, placing his hand on his chest, and thinking for a brief moment, that she didn’t want this to end. Her eyes were drinking in the picture of him before Betty crept to his kitchen to write a note. Explaining her disappearance and her expressing her gratitude for his help. Now, she needed to tuck the note where he would see it. Boldly, Betty slid it into the front pocket of his jeans, the paper crinkling even as she tried to be careful. She couldn’t stop the blush that rose on her cheeks from the act, despite its innocence.

After putting some plastic wrap (which she had been surprised to find he had) over the dessert bars, Betty put them away on his kitchen counter and made her way out and across the hall. The door clicked behind her and enveloped her in a now stifling silence.

She wanted to talk to her sister. Why did her phone have to be broken?

Betty thought idly, maybe she ought to order a new one. Just a cheap one that would get her through for a while.

Sitting down at her kitchen table, Betty opened her laptop and did a quick ebay search. She found a decent option for just over $100, so she went for it. Slipping her chin into her palm, she scrolled through her facebook feed for a few minutes before growing bored.

Rolling her head around in her hand, she decided to pull up skype, clicking on her sister's name. The chances she would answer were slim, but it would go to her phone at least. The late hour was a bit of a problem, and Betty hoped she wouldn’t be waking Polly or the twins up.

It only took two rings for her sister’s face to fill the screen. Betty grimaced slightly at her own image, her mussed hair and eye bags — it was obvious she had done a bit a crying. But Polly was beautiful, as always. Long golden curls and wide bright eyes despite the darkness of the room she was in.

“Betty? What’s wrong?”

Her sister was ever so concerned, Betty was torn between smiling and laughing.

“Oh, Pols, I’m sorry for calling so late.”

Polly was walking, Betty could hear the click of a door shutting and a light coming on — she was in the bathroom now, sitting down on the closed toilet seat.

“It’s alright, J’s asleep and so are the twins. I was just reading before bed,” she seemed to prop her phone up on the sink counter. “Why are you calling me from skype?”

“I dropped my phone in the bath yesterday. It got fried like a piece of burnt toast. Just ordered a replacement a bit ago.”

“Oh, no... I told you to stop taking your phone in there with you. I’ve told you that maybe a hundred times, Betty —”

“Okay, mom ” Betty rolled her eyes.

“—I’m serious. I’m surprised it didn’t happen before now, to be honest.”

“I know, okay? It was… stupid,” Betty’s eyes were threatening to fill with tears again.

“Oh, Betty… what’s wrong? Did something happen? Are you ok?” her sister’s frantic voice made her shake her head and Betty ran her fingers under her eyes preemptively.

With a shaky breath, she looked back to Polly who was worrying her lip between her teeth, brow furrowed in concern. “I had a panic attack.”

“And you’re alright now? When was it? Did you do your breathing exercises? You should have called me — skyped me.”

“Yes, I’m ok now. It was actually several hours ago. My neighbor… Jughead, helped me through it,” Betty paused for a moment, watching Polly relax some. “I was in his apartment. We were… kissing.”

“Oh… oh, and that led to a panic attack?”

“Yes. It wasn’t his fault, though. I haven’t talked to him about Toni, because we haven’t known each other very long. But I like him, and we kissed. I was being all tense —”

Polly snorted at that and Betty sent her a glare through the screen.

“—and he said I needed to relax. That, combined with the way he had said ‘sweet girl’ and the position we were in —”

“Hmm? Position? What position was that?”

“— would you stop interrupting me, Pols?” Betty was only semi-kidding, rolling her eyes at Polly.

Her sister’s tinkling laugh echoed from the speakers. “Just interested in the details, dear sister of mine.”

“Fine, fine, so he had me up against the kitchen table. Hands on either side of my hips. Happy?”

“ Very.” Polly’s grin could rival the Cheshire Cat’s.

“So, it just reminded me of… you know, Toni. I could hear those same words coming out of her mouth. I could feel her arms caging me in — trapping me.”

Betty sighed into her hands, running them down her face and then pressing her palms against her closed eyes, rubbing them.

“But… you said Jughead helped you through it? You didn’t totally freak out.”

Dragging her hands away from her eyes, Betty stared at Polly who had an eyebrow raised at her.

“Well, no, I guess not.”

“That’s good! You’re making progress then. This Jughead may be helping you more than you realize. It’s about time you moved on from this, especially with someone.”

“Yeah, I know. Three years is a long time, trust me, I know,” Betty shot her sister an incredulous look.

Polly let out a howl of laughter, her hand clamping over her mouth immediately as she quieted her outburst. Her giggles burst through her fingers and it was infectious — Betty’s lips turning upwards until she was grinning and shaking her head.

“Stop, Polly. This is a serious conversation.”

“Then why are you still laughing with me?”

“Oh, shush, you goose.”

A beat of silence passed, then, “So, Jughead is your neighbor?”

Betty sighed, “Yes. My very attractive, very interesting, in-possession-of-a-steady-job neighbor. But, he also wears leather, smokes, and rides a motorcycle.”

“Well… that sounds great to me.”

“Of course it does, Jason drives a volvo.”

“Hey! Volvo’s are a perfectly respectable mode of transportation,” Polly’s voice was full of indignation.

“Yeah, I know. But you always were attracted to the bad boy types. I’ll never know how you ended up with preppy, heir-to-a-maple-syrup-empire JJ.”

Polly ducked her head. “Let’s just say there’s a reason that I got pregnant so quickly…”

“Ok, wow,” Betty drawled. “That was a visual  I did not need, Polly.”

“Just so we’re on the same page, I’m talking about sex.”

Betty rolled her eyes at her sister, “Yeah, I got that, Mrs. TMI.”

“Alright, just wanted to clear that up,” her sister’s smug smile was as beautiful as it was annoying. “Well, anyway. What’s so bad about those things? With Jughead? Just because he may do or have some of the same things as Toni, does not make him like her.”

“I know, I know. But… while I may understand it on an intellectual level, subconsciously my brain has a hard time comprehending that,” and truly, it did.

Betty closed her eyes, repeating the mantra that helped her gain focus and clarity when she often felt herself slipping back in time, adding a new part to the beginning.

The person I like is different, the situation is different, my life is different. But I’m still the same.

Distantly, she thought that she could do this. It would take time and effort, but she could do it . She was going to have to eventually, now or later — and she definitely didn’t want to let Jughead slip through her fingers.

“Tetty was just never going to be a thing,” Polly said, suddenly, nodding with her words as Betty made a face.

“Tetty?”

“Yeah, it was the ship name I gave you and Toni.” Polly made a face. “The alternative was Copaz, and that just wasn’t going to fly.”

Raising an eyebrow at her sister, Betty gave her look that reflected her next words, “Really?”

“Yes, don’t judge me,” Polly huffed. “It’s all I have as a stay-at-home mom. Don’t begrudge me my shipping.”

Betty bit back a smile. “And your kids…?”

“Oh, yeah. Them too. Anyway,” Polly brushed some hair behind her shoulders a sly smile on her face that made Betty’s stomach flip, because she knew that smile.

“Now, Bughead? Yeah, that has a nice ring to it.”

  tbc.

[undercovermcdfan]

16 travlyn

“Just shut up and kiss me”

title: strawberrychampagne

a/n: tbh youwanna know my aesthetic for Travis and Katelyn? Them loving each other. That’swhat I’m about. This fic was a little self-indulgent and it takes place in theHatch Marks Universe. Also, thisis also highkey inspired by this drawing @crybabytime made forevergo of Travis, don’t judge me okay. I’m weak for the sonshine in suits.

song inspo: That’s what I like, Bruno Mars

warning(s): fluff,kisses, Travis being the Mosttm

Cadenza clapped her hands in excitement, as she appraisedTravis’s outfit. “This is it! You andthis outfit was meant to be,” she announced, stepping aside with armsoutstretched as she struck a pose, “Everybody, I present you, our beloved Travis.” 

The others— by others, he means Laurance and Dante— looked up simultaneously;he gave a sheepish grin, striking pose and watched the matching grins appear onboth of his friend’s faces.

“Is that really you, Travis?” Laurance straightens, standingat full height as he walked over with hand on chin as he looked him up anddown, “I can barely recognize you.” Dusting off invisible dust from hisshoulders, Laurance then patted his cheek, “Cadenza, what have you done to my assistant?”

Dante laughed, joining them as he clapped Travis’s back and proclaimed,“Cadenza, the miracle worker, strikes again!”

“Thank you, I tried my best,” she giggled, brushing her hairback, “And I’ll admit—I outdid myself this time.”

“You have,” Laurance agreed and Dante nodded.

Travis rolled his eyes, smoothing down the front of hissuit. He huffed, “You make it sound like I don’t look this fine often,” he thenpaused. Taking a step away from the group that huddled around him, all lookingon with pleased expressions and he ignored their excited whispering as he tookbetter look at himself in the mirror. The dark purple coat lined with gold, acombination Cadenza insisted over the classic black he almost went with; hefidgeted with the white gloves she handed to him, his shoes shined toperfection and hair slicked back. He wondered out loud, “I can’t believe I’mgoing to do this.”

Cadenza leaned up, resting her chin on his shoulder, a blindingsmile on her colored lips. She squeezed his arm, her eyes meeting his in themirror, “Don’t worry. She’s going to say yes, kid.”

“Cadenza, we’re the same age—you can’t call me a kid.” He thensmiled softly, taking in a deep breath, “But… I trust you. Can’t chicken outnow. I flew out my mother and everything for this.”

“Just butterflies, Travis. Don’t focus too much on them,”Laurance beamed, stuffing his hands in pockets, “Now did you remember the ring?”

“Ye—wait,” he started patting his pocket, Travis’s eyeswidening in panic. He perked when he heard Dante and Laurance’s laughs, and hewhirled around, seeing Dante holding the black felt box. He flustered, onlythen remembering he handed it to the blue haired man for safe keeping.

Dante tossed the box at him, and turning on his heels, hecalled out over his shoulder as he walks towards the door, “Take it from me andLaurance—you’re overthinking it, Travis. Katelyn might be stubborn but you knowher best and the way she looks at you? Soulmates~”Then ducks through the doorway.

Laurance followed, backing towards it slowly while makingfinger gun motion and winked, “Just worry about the proposal. Leave the rest tous, okay?” Then his boss turned and disappeared into the doorway, he could hearLaurance’s shout at Dante to “Give up the car keys, you snake. Don’t you dare run.”

Cadenza slipped arm around his, smiling brightly as shetugged him along, “Well come along. You know how anxious Isabel gets if thingsaren’t on track.”

“I do. I get the feeling she’s already leaving long windedvoice messages as we speak.”

“Already gotten five texts from her,” Cadenza laughed, “Butshe knows I don’t rush perfection. And you? You really do look nice, Travis.”She pats his arm, giving him an assuring look, “She’s going to have her breathstolen when she takes one look at you. And when you look at her…”

He catches her mischievous glint and raised an eyebrowquestioningly, but the fiery-haired woman waved him off, “No, I’m not tellingyou what dress I picked out for her. Lucinda sent me some pictures and we bothagreed— you’re going to marry a goddess.”

“Cadenza, she hasn’t even said yes yet— “

“Oh, she’s going to say yes. And… hmm…,” she cradled herchin, giving a thoughtful look, “If she looks this good now for a surpriseproposal— Katelyn in a wedding dress would be...” She trailed over, grinning toherself and started to mumble. Travis rolled his eyes.

But he honestly, truly, hope everybody’s confidence andsupport rubbed off on him.

Rubbing his thumb against the soft felt of the ring box, agentle smile appears on his lips as his heart beats in excitement. It’s beenfour years—unusual for most soulmated couples to wait but honestly, the draggedwait was something he didn’t regret.

As the elevator descended into the garage level, Traviswondered: Hope she won’t mind making abig show out of this all.

Kawaii-chan greeted them at the door, her bright pink hairbraided into a long braid and dressed in simple black dress that reached to theground; beside her, a disinterested black-haired chef with a sharp, green-blueeyes and lips in a tight line, hands clasped behind her back—Lily, the scaryhead chef of KC’s restaurant and with serious tone, she greeted him and thegroup. Laurance gave her a friendly wave and for a moment, he sees herseriousness crack for moment as a smile twitched on her lips.

“Thank you for choosing us to provide for food this evening.I hope you enjoy your night and in advance, congratulations Mr. Travis.” Lilyfinished up, giving a small bow. Travis chuckled at her formality, giving anawkward nod, “Travis is fine. And thank you—I look forward to the meals youmake, Miss Lily.”

KC took up Dante’s arm, beaming at the chef and Travis, “Lilystop being so stuffy. We’re all friends here.”

“Well, you are right. Sorry, just kicking into professionalmode.” Lily paused and glanced at Laurance, before squinting at him, “It’s asurprise to see the newlywed from his husband.”

Laurance laughed, looking ahead, “Vylad insisted on helpingIsabel out while I stayed with Travis. Did you see him?”

“Last time, he was with Zenix and lecturing him aboutopening the good wines,” Lily reported, before pointing her thumb backwards,towards the kitchen door, “They’re near the back. Also, if any of you see Sasha—tellher what Vylad told me: ‘you’re next.’”

Everybody laughed, even Lily chuckling; Laurance broke awayfrom the group, giving a small salute to Travis and a pat, “Remember the plan.I’m going to calm Vylad down before he decides to put Zenix and Sasha in timeout again.”

Cadenza called out, “Does he forget they’re well into theirtwenties?”

“Well, they forgetthey are. But everybody needs to be in places before Katelyn showed up,”Laurance said back, before disappearing behind the kitchen door.

Cadenza sighed, rolling her eyes and looked up at Travis, “Okay.We have a half hour before Katelyn arrives. You go find your mother—I’m goingto check in with Aphmau and Aaron.”

Travis nodded, albeit nervously as the other Zvahl siblingparts and with the click click click ofher heels, she moves across the room to the couple chatting by the window.Dante takes his arm and Kawaii-chan takes his other, both smiling up at him andthen laugh when he gave a confused look.

“Before you find Ms. Valkrum, there’s two special people whowant to talk to you,” KC said cryptically. Dante gave him an apologetic look,and Travis found himself taken forward, towards the back of the restaurant.

He saw her and her red hair before Ivy or Teony spotted him.The two girls were whispering to each other— Teony in a sweeping yellow dressand her puffy dark hair shorter than the last time Travis seen her, simplesilver jewelry around her neck and blue studs pierced her ears, her round andkind eyes spotting him first as a smile bloomed on her face; beside her, afidgeting red head with her head lowered and in a strapless pastel green dress,short and frilled, and unlike Teony, who met him half way for a hug, didn’tbudge.

Dante and KC excused themselves, giving the three privacywhile Travis grinned wildly, genuinely excited to see the two. “I thought yousaid you two couldn’t make it—did you schedule clear?”

Teony smiled, pinching his cheek as she shook her head, “Forme, it did. Ivy was too shy to come alone, but… well, I’ll let her explain herself.”Teony stepped aside, and Travis tilted his head, glancing at Ivy who finallyturned to face them.

He stuck out his hand, uncertain if the red head would takewith the complicated expression on her face—their history always been… a bitdodgy. Katelyn was, after all, in a relationship with all of them; though herdays with Teony and Ivy were far and few in between since the two lived in adifferent city, Katelyn always expressed equal love for all three. Teony easilyaccepted him from the get go; even though Teony, like Ivy, had no interest inmen, she was a comforting and warm person to befriend. Ivy always intimidatedhim as much as respected in a strange way; for the first year of his relationshipwith Katelyn, she made no strives with wanting to befriend him, voicing herdislike. Soon, the dislike because mild annoyance, and recently became newfound friendship; she gave her reason for her hostility in the past, it was dueto aversion of change and Travis couldn’t fault her for feeling a littleput-off with Katelyn finding her soulmate, afraid Katelyn would end her otherrelationships as a result (even though Teony, Katelyn and Travis assured it wouldn’t happen).

Ivy didn’t accept his hand, but pushed a small box into hishands and gave a rushed, “This is for you.”

He blinked, surprised by the object and Ivy made an annoyedexpression, gesturing for him to open it. Inside, there inlaid two gold coloredstar-shaped cufflinks. He paused, glancing from it to Ivy’s nervous and Teony’sexcited expressions, before back.

“Uh, this… is my sort of congratulations gift to you from us—“Teony coughed. “From me. I picked them out and… I know they look kinda dumb butKatelyn mentioned you liked stars and you mentioned needing some last time wewere in town. So,” Ivy looked down, he could see her ears burning almost as redas her hair as fidget with her hands, “I hope you like them.”

A slow but brilliant smile appeared on him lips, as he takesout the cufflinks and put them on, admiring how they shined. “Ivy? Would it bealright if I hugged you?”

Ivy nodded, whispering, “A small one would be fine.”

It was a brief squeeze, and he laughed along with Teony atIvy’s embarrassed expression. “I’m so happy you two showed up—I know you twogave your blessings already but… thank you.”

Teony squeezed his shoulder, chuckling, “If it makes herhappy, we’re here for you. You’re a good man Travis.”

“You take care of her,” Ivy added.

Travis nodded, beaming, “I will. As long as you two come andvisit for a date night. She loves you just as much. And Ivy, no more shyingaway; you made the pact now—we’re good friends after this.”

They laughed again, Ivy rolling her as she batted at him, “Don’tmake me take that gift back.”

“Too late. I love them—you won’t steal from your friend,would you?”

“On your fast track way back to distant ones if you’re goingto keep this up.”

He found his mother talking to Katelyn’s father, the two inspirited debate as he stepped up.

“No, no—they should get married in the summer!” his motherargued, lifting her pointer finger off her glass as she continued to assertherself, “Clear skies, good weather; I know it’s more expensive but everybodywants a wedding when there’s good weather!”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” the larger, soft-speaking mansaid, putting up a defensive hand, “butI know this wonderful lodge they could host it in. I heard winter-time weddingare becoming more popular from that Laurance boy, and—Oh! Travis!”

Both adults immediately lit up, his mother turning towardshim and cupping his face while Erik clasped his shoulder, a wide grin on hisface.

“You look so handsome, sweetie,” she said, and Travis letsout a ticklish laugh at her kiss on his cheek before pulling her into her ahug, then hugging Katelyn’s father.

Travis said, “I see you two were having a lively debate; Ihope I wasn’t interruptin—“

“Nonsense!”

“Son, you’re always welcomed here,” Erik reached up toruffled his hair but then paused, seeing it’s state. He gave him an apologeticlook before, giving an helpless shrug. “Cadenza’s idea. You haven’t met her but…well, she’s the one picked out my outfit and everything nice I’m wearing.”

“Is she the pretty girl with the red hair and green eyes—she’sa sweetheart.”

“Mom, you say that about every one of my friends.”

Freya shrugged, smiling, “I hardly see how that’s a problem.”

The birthday party, for intents and purposes, went offwithout a hitch.

Though Katelyn was aware of it being a birthday party forher—the hidden agenda still a secret—, Katelyn still had the decency to besurprised by it all. Her smiles were genuine as she glanced around the room,greeting everybody who approached.

And Cadenza was right—she did take his breath away themoment his eyes landed on her. Her dress had elegance to it, the top of itwhite as it fades into a deep blue towards the bottom, it clinging and only doingfavors to her body shape while her straighten hair bounced freely, her bangspulled away from her face and pinned back by a pretty hair decoration.  According to the plan, she wasn’t supposed tosee him yet but…. curiosity did kill the cat.

She grasps his hands the moment she spotted him, her smileonly growing wider as made a show to look him up and down. “Travis?” she saidin disbelief, her cheeks warmed and pulled away from her hug.

He posed, cocking an eyebrow before giving a playful wiggle.“Oh? Beautiful woman who looks exactly as my girlfriend— do you know me?”

She laughed, hitting his shoulder gently as she placed herhand on her hip, “I don’t know. Have you seen my boyfriend? Looks quite likeyou, though less—Wait, is that Ivy? Teony!” Travis stepped aside, watching thegirls group up and share a hug. Ivy shot him a Go, while I have her distracted look and he took the signal,disappearing into the crowd that surrounded the birthday girl.

She didn’t see him approach. Her back turned to the crowd offamily, friends and her girlfriends, Laurance gave him the thumbs up, a signfor him to slowly approach behind her.

“—happy birthday—“ Katelyn started to turn, lowering herstrawberry champagne from her lips, and Travis sinks to one knee, “to” hepulled out the box, opening the ring as Katelyn’s eyes widens and she gaspedsoftly, “you.”

The crowd around them erupts in cheers and applause, Katelynlooked around as she covered her face with her hand, mumbling “I knew you were planning something.”

As the crowd died down, Travis spoke up, his heart beatingloudly in ears as held up the ring with a sly smirk on his lips, “We met bychance. We’re soulmates by destiny—but Katelyn, as I kneel her before you, Iwant you to know… being your best friend was the best choice I could ever make.I love you, as a friend, as your boyfriend, and…” he took in a deep breath,licking his lips nervously before he slowly released his breath, “I want tospend the rest of my life with you. I want to spoil you. And I promise you I’llalways look for a reason for you smile. Will you do me the honor of being mywife?”

She slowly lowered her hand, her eyes swimming with swell ofemotions. Everybody, including himself, waited with baited breath for heranswer—and naturally, it would be a Katelyn move to surprise them all. Shedropped to her knees, putting her glass on the ground and wrapping her armsaround him in a tight hug.

“Of course,” shewhispered into his ear, her voice choked with feelings as she pulled away andletting him nervously slip the ring onto her finger, fumbled for a moment andthey both laughed as he did. The crowd around them then exploded, for a secondtime, even louder cheers and applause—party poppers and confetti descended fromall around them, Travis looking around with a proud grin until Katelyn’s handtouched his cheek.

“You’re forgetting one last thing, Travis,” she mused.

“Wha—what did I forget? Everything went exactly as planned!”

“You…” she sighed, pinching his chin as she raised a brow, “willyou just kiss me already?”

Her kiss tasted sweet, strawberries and alcohol. And luckyfor him, that what he liked.