#the male characters who were discarded around this time have largely been picked back up. the girls have not.

[seventeendeer]

if you feel up to infodumping about it, i would love to hear your opinions on the Weird Writing for sonic the hedgehog's female characters. i've always had a massive soft spot for elise she's such a strange person when you look past the Generic Love Interest framing of her story and i really wish she'd gotten her own game

Ahhh thank you for enabling me, I have SO MANY THOUGHTS on this subject!! I've been super fascinated with the weird gender dynamics emerging in the franchise ... nearly since female characters were added at all. I think I've only really been able to put my thoughts into words recently, but it's a subject I've been interested in since I first got into the series as a kid.

(Also, I feel you on the subject of Elise - super interesting character more or less accidentally emerging from a very bland role)

Note: As usual, I’m mostly talking about the mainline games and Sonic X. While Sonic has a lot of spinoffs, I think Sonic X is so close to the spirit of the games that it is not a stretch to count it as an entry in the series’ core installments, particularly the second series/season 3. Especially because it originated in the same era as most of the lore currently defining the games, and there was a lot of migration back and forth between the two continuities regarding both characters and worldbuilding.

Anyway! On the subject of gendered writing in Sonic stories!

IMO, the biggest paradox in the Sonic games' and anime’s approach to female characters is that sexist writing is all over the place ... and yet the female cast is overwhelmingly the most layered and thematically interesting! Which they're then generally tortured and killed for. Whoops.

In order to understand why, I think it's important to remember that at its core, Sonic is very heavily inspired by shonen anime. If anyone's interested, look into the games' weird copycat relationship with Dragonball Z, for one. Sonic games wish they were Dragonball games so bad, it has negatively affected much of their history (Shadow's repeated Vegeta-ification is a good example).

Like shonen anime (it's right there in the name!), Sonic assumes a male player, a male audience. For this reason, you'll have a wealth of "cool" male characters to play as. Cool designs, cool powers, more diverse roles. Playable female characters are extremely limited, with only Amy and Rouge being sincere attempts to diversify the central cast just a tiny bit (Cream and Blaze used to qualify as well, but I'd argue they eventually graduated to the second category I'm about to talk about; more on them later). The main downside of this role is that characters the player is expected to project onto become limited in the kinds of stories and arcs they're 'allowed' by the writers to participate in. They're intentionally kept static so they can neatly slot into multiple narratives without being disruptive. Many of the male characters have vestigial emotional arcs - Tails' insecurities, Knuckles' complicated feelings toward his ancestors, etc. - but they're never allowed to go anywhere, directly influence the narrative or conclude in a meaningful way. They’re here to observe, then save the day, and that’s it. Anything beyond that would complicate continuity between games - or worse, jeopardize Baby Boy’s First Power Fantasy.

On the flipside, many of the story-heavy games employ one-off supporting characters as the emotional core of their respective narratives. And what kinds of characters make great foils to cool, powerful, emotionally repressed dudes primarily existing independently of their own stories? Less action-oriented, highly emotional girls absolutely fucking drowning in that narrative sauce.

Let me be clear: it’s sexist. Defining male characters by their cool powers and ability to save the day, while female characters are defined by their suffering and need for help, is deeply sexist.

Let me be clear, part two: characters who are closely tied to their narratives, who embody the themes of their own stories, who are allowed to struggle, who are allowed to express emotions and for those emotions to directly influence the narrative, are largely much more interesting characters.

Characters who come to some form of resolution are more interesting.

Unfortunately, Sonic games are largely a strange exercise in placing cute, simple cartoon animal characters into weirdly brutal, tonally inconsistent stories that circle themes of sacrifice like sharks smelling blood.

And so the girls die. Or they’re emotionally broken. Or they’re separated from their friends - and thus the spotlight - forever.

A rundown of major female Sonic characters, their narrative purpose, and the price they had to pay for it:

- Tikal: A peace-loving ghost girl serving as a spirit guide in her sole game appearance. Revealed to have been betrayed by her power-hungry family, forcing her to seal her soul away for thousands of years in order to prevent the end of the world. When the threat passed, it seems her spirit did too.

- Maria: A deathly ill 12-year-old who lived in a sterile care facility on a space station, but retained hope that one day she would be well enough to return to Earth. She stood up to armed military forces to save her brother figure/best friend, and got fridged for the trouble.

- Cream: Introduced as a playable character, but largely discarded by the franchise after her sole moment of real character focus in the anime. A character introduced as a pacifist who hates violence, eventually forced to beat a close friend to death in order to protect her other friends.

- Blaze: Also initially a playable character who had one Big Moment(tm), then vanished from the plot after only starring in a single followup game. Once best friends with Silver, she chose to absorb a rampaging god into her soul in order to save him and the rest of the world. Time and space were rewritten, and she resurfaced in a parallel universe where she grew up alone and horribly bullied. Though she and Silver have met again, they never have officially reconnected and don’t remember their past life together.

- Elise: A vessel for a powerful evil who grew up emotionally distant from all other people in order to keep the evil contained. When she finally made a friend, she was forced to rewrite time so they would never meet in an attempt to save the world. There’s a chance she’s faring better in the new timeline, but how would we know? She vanished from the plot as soon as she’d made that sacrifice.

- Cosmo: The last of her kind, save for the small group of villains who murdered the rest of their people. Went through hell in the one season of the anime she was featured in, then promptly died in order to gain revenge on her enemies and save her friends.

- Shade: We don’t know if there were more plans for her character after her debut game, but as it stands, she showed up, was first brainwashed, then betrayed by her own people, and chose to leave behind everything she knew in order to protect the world from her family and former friends.

Note that these are all the major female characters who show up in the games and anime, save for Amy and Rouge. And that’s not even counting the female leads of the storybook spinoff games, Merlina (a hero turned villain who did everything in her power to save her world from future ruin, defeated and left to grieve over her inability to change a thing) and Shahra (another girl who died to save a friend; revived at the end of her story but never seen again), or Molly from the anime who did some kinda sick speedrun strat, showing up in ONE episode where she had her heart broken and committed murder/suicide after she was betrayed by people she trusted.

By contrast, we have exactly one male character who follows the same pattern - Shadow, who went through similar emotional troubles and was intended to die at the end of his debut game. However, due to popular fan demand, he was brought back to life and added to the roster of recurring male characters. He even had much of his depth culled from newer games to match the rest.

Much spin-off media does better in certain ways, but I don’t know ... there’s something about that extremely consistent pattern in the main games and anime. It’s such an interesting paradox, having the female cast be simultaneously the most layered and well-written, but also the ones at highest risk of being emotionally tortured and discarded.

It’s definitely not a pattern unique to Sonic either, but by virtue of being such mindless feel-good stories where a good attitude and good friends can literally work miracles, I think it just stands out all the more. This loyalty to the concept of altruism and respect for soft emotions, paired with insistence on tragedy.

But only if you’re a girl. If you’re a girl, you are at once special and expendable.

You’re the only one who’s allowed to really embody the emotional truth of whatever absurd plotline the writers have cooked up this afternoon, you’re the only one who’s allowed to really express what this story is about at its core, but also you have to die for it. Or be sent away. You can’t be here anymore, at least.

I have no idea who writes these games. I could not tell you if there really is an emotional core, if anyone is actually putting in effort. I don’t know if it matters, either. Death of the author, etc.

What I do know is that there’s a meta-narrative here.

Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Silver, Omega, Vector, Espio, Charmy, Big, and sometimes even Mighty and Ray, go out on fun adventures to save the day. Amy and Rouge are here for flavor. We’ve decided Shadow can come, too, if he stops talking about his dead family all the time.

Tikal, Maria, Cream, Blaze, Elise, Cosmo and Shade (etc) show up for just a moment in time, go through trauma and heartbreak, and then disappear. Maybe they’ll have an unvoiced cameo later. If they’re lucky. If people like them enough.

There’s no real point to this, aside from explaining why I’m weirdly invested in just ... the concept of female existence in a children’s franchise mostly aimed at boys. Where everything will be okay, except when it won’t. Except when we need that bit of salt in the wound, so the victory will feel important, earned.

The price of getting real for just a moment being narrative death, if not straight up literal death.

Above all, Sonic games are cute. They’re appealing because they’re stupid and wholesome and weird. I love the male characters too, I’m not here for attempts at complexity, I’m here to have fun.

I’ve just also been feeling incredibly tempted as of late to write an ‘escape the narrative’ type deconstruction of these exact tropes, heavily inspired by Sonic and other children’s media in the same genre.

“Boys do stuff but have no feelings, girls have feelings but should endure all manner of suffering in order to protect others” is ... not an irrelevant theme to explore in our current media landscape, if you ask me.

even if I never get around to writing that, at least I made a sick Sonic AMV about all those poor girls going through hell for the sake of The Narrative, I should upload that sometime lol

also hey I haven’t finished Sonic Frontiers yet - sure hope nothing bad happens to our new melancholy girl character closely tied to her debut game’s story and themes ..!

[foodieforthoughts]

Imagine Henry coming back home sexually frustrated because he shot a sex scene that day and all he could think about was you

Oooffff this was interesting to write! Thank you anon bean for the request. It turned out to be longer than I expected 👀😅

Warning: 18+, smut, fingering, slight bondage, male!dom, fem!sub, minor role-playing, vaginal penetration, foul language

A/N: I had so much fun writing all the requests but they are now closed. I have a lot on my plate right now and I don't want to disappoint with mediocre work. Thank you to everyone who has been sending me requests and reading my work, I love you all. The pending ones will be answered soon. 😊♥️

Title: Hello, Sailor

You were singing to yourself while taking a shower completely oblivious to the other occupant of the house sneaking into the bedroom. You nearly shrieked when you stepped out of the bathroom to find Henry sitting on the edge of the bed. Your husband had a tight lipped smile on his face, dressed in all white with a sailor's cap perched on his head.

"Well, hello, sailor." You wrapped the towel over your body. Droplets of water dripping from your hair and travelling down your arms; Henry's gaze following the trail of hydrous beads with his smile turning into a leer. "You weren't suppose to be home yet."

With a smirk Henry stood up, bringing his eyes to refocus on your face. "Yeah, I excused myself."

Extending his arm to grab onto yours, Henry pulled you to him in one swift move. You yelped when you crashed against his hard chest, your arms flailing to grab onto his strong biceps for support. You gasped as Henry's hardening bulge rubbed against your abdomen.

"What's gotten into you?" You asked, puzzled but also slightly aroused by his dominion.

Licking his lips slowly while his lustful gaze bore into you, Henry pulled the towel loose from your body. The fluffy piece of cloth fell down on the carpeted floor, pooling in a heap on your feet.

"I had to shoot a sex scene today." He grazed his nimble fingers over your skin, running his hand down your arm. "And all I could keep thinking about was you."

"I'm flattered." You tried to pull away but Henry held you tighter against him, his hand squeezing your butt while the other travelled down to rest under your breast. You bit your lip, suppressing a moan when Henry ran his thumb over your exposed nipple.

"Do you want to tell me how the scene progressed?" You breathed, your chest heaving as your pulse drummed in your ears, tingling moisture beginning to pool between your thighs.

"Better yet, I'll show you." Henry offered and before you could squeak out a word, he turned you around and pushed you down on the bed. You fell on the soft mattress, your thighs held apart by Henry's wide frame crawling in between them. His eyes darkened with lust, pupils blown wide as he climbed on top of you.

Your eyes fluttered close when he kissed his way up from your waist, leaving lingering impressions of his lips and sucking on the juncture of your neck, making you buck your hips to gain friction where it was needed. He brought your hands up over your head, holding them by the wrist until you felt the coarse nylon texture of the binds digging into your skin.

"What the-" You opened your eyes in surprise and craned your neck to see that Henry had indeed tied your hands with a rope. You tugged at the restraining line, listening to the faint sound of the bed post creaking with your force. Bringing your gaze back to your husband who had climbed off the bed and was hurriedly discarding his clothes, you stared at him waiting for an explanation.

"What sort of movie are you filming? Sailor porn?"

Henry chuckled, pulling the last piece of clothing down, freeing his cock which stood erect and proud. You gulped, momentarily mesmerized by the thickness even though it wasn't your first time seeing it, wondering how did your body accommodate his massive size.

"I improvised, I'm an actor. There were no ropes." Lying on top of you, caging your body with his legs on either side, Henry brought his face close to yours. You could feel the warmth of his breath, taking in the intoxicating scent of his masculinity, awakening your inclination to be controlled and destroyed. You were about to speak when he placed his hand over your mouth, stopping you from saying something witty in response. "She didn't speak. Can you follow that?" Henry questioned, his voice dropping down an octave, the husky undertone spreading sparks of electricity throughout your body.

You nodded, wriggling under him to pull his attention to your aching center. His heavy cock rested on your abdomen, veiny topography of his phallus rubbing against the sensitive skin of your belly. Your drenched hair was beginning to soak the bedsheet, making you shiver under the dampness although it might have not been the only reason why your arms were now covered with goosebumps.

Taking his hand off your mouth, Henry wiped his thumb over your parted lips, nudging it inside your warm cavern. You gladly sucked at his digit, moaning as he twisted it inside your mouth, running your tongue over his finger. Your thighs clenched when his other hand rubbed at the outside of your thigh, making it's way to your mound. Henry kissed his way down from your neck, stopping to suckle at the top of your breasts, marking you as his. You whimpered as he spread your legs apart, bringing his fingers to tease your dripping folds, rubbing at the swollen bundle of nerves.

You were completely at his mercy, trying to pull at the restrains, wanting to touch him. Sucking in a ragged breath, you closed your eyes as at the same time Henry took your aching nipple in his mouth and inserted a long finger inside your cunt. Your toes curled, gasps leaving your lips when he flicked your clit with his thumb, adding another finger to stretch your pussy.

"Henry," you moaned his name, jerking up when he nipped at your nipple. "Oh God." You repeatedly called out, feeling the coiling at the pit of your belly as his fingers curled inside you, rubbing against the erogenous spot over and over again.

You gasped for air, taking in shallow breaths, as your heart raced in your chest. Henry placed his hand over your cheeks, caressing your skin while performing exploitative ministrations over your body. You strained against the ropes, rutting your pelvis against his hand as your orgasm ripped through your body like a thunder strike.

You were trying to regain your breath, think above the haze in your mind and get your thumping heart to calm down, when Henry unceremoniously flipped you over on your belly. The rope dug into your wrist but you were busy trying to make sense of what was happening when Henry pulled you up on your knees, jutting your ass in the air and positioned himself behind you, lining the tip of his cock at your entrance.

"Henry," you tried to look behind at him, but the cord and his large hands holding your waist bound you to your place. "Please-" You couldn't even complete the sentence as Henry plunged his throbbing cock inside your welcoming cunt, thrusting until you were stretched and his bulbous head rubbed at the apex of your womb. He bottomed out inside you, giving you no time to adjust to his size as he pulled out before ramming back in.

"Are you loving that?" He rasped near your ear, bringing his hand to rest under your jaw and turning you face to look upwards. "Exactly like I fucked the wench in that scene."

"Fuck, Henry." You cried, the sensations and the situation overpowering you. You pushed against his hip as the familiar coiling in your belly returned, ready to snap as he hammered his way to reach his high. Your eyes widened when his hand snaked its way to your clit, circling the nub and pushing you to your imminent climax. With quivering thighs and a scream, you came over his dick grabbing onto the rope as tidal waves of ecstasy washed over you. With a loud groan, Henry dug his fingers in your skin, shooting his thick warm seed inside you, continually saying your name as the remnant of his load emptied within you.

Struggling to catch your breath, both of you laid on the soaked mattress, with sweat slicked skin and trembling muscles. Henry kissed your back as he rolled over you, lying on the bed and looking up at the ceiling.

"Wow! That was something, wasn't it?" He asked between gulps of breaths.

Turning your head to look at him, you nodded. "Exactly how many sex scenes does this movie have?" You teased, weakly nudging him with your knee.

"A couple more I guess." He winked back, lying on his side to face you.

"Next time maybe a heads up?" You quirked an eyebrow at him, mischievous grin on your face. "Never thought I would pitch in the idea of role play and the universe would grant me with a sailor sex scene."

Sitting up and untying your hands, Henry chuckled. "Actually, my character is about to become the Captain soon."

"Oh mama. Drop your anchor in my lagoon again, Captain." You laughed as Henry shook his head and snorted as you continued throwing horrendously funny pick up lines one after the other before pulling you towards the bathroom for a warm shower.

[albertasunrise]

Just Another Conquest - Part 1

Masterlist

Warnings: You were sweet, innocent and completely infatuated with Javier Peña. After an incident at the Christmas party, you become the talk of the secretary's at the embassy and everything starts falling around you.

Pairings: Javier Peña x Reader, Reader x Original Male Character

Warnings: Angst, Kissing, Mentions of sex

Notes: There are some touchy subjects at the end of this chapter. If you’re easily triggered this might not be for you. Don’t wanna add too many tags as it’ll spoil it.

For two years you had worked at the embassy as a secretary. You kept your head down and your nose out of trouble and so no one noticed you.

Except Greg.

Greg was sweet. You’d been on a few dates and you were taking it steady. Too many times you had jumped in headfirst into the flames and gotten burned so this time you were going to take things slow, Glacial, but Greg didn’t seem to mind. Greg was sweet.

Someone who wasn't sweet.

Javier Peña.

He had bedded most of the single or unmarried secretaries in the embassy. Even some of the married ones. He flirted with everyone. Well everyone except you and even though that stung a little you were glad. He couldn’t tarnish you if he couldn’t see you.

You’d been infatuated with the man from day dot at the embassy. He was a smooth talker and painfully handsome but you knew you weren’t his type. You were plain, a little on the chubbier side and uninteresting. You'd seen some of the women he’d slept with. Your apartment was across from his and they were all beautiful. The polar opposite of you.

It was the day of the Christmas office party. An event you looked forward to as it gave you a chance to dress up a little. Greg had bought you a stunning dress for the event, something you’d spotted in the window of a shop one day and told him you liked it. He’d managed to find out your size and had snuck back to buy it for you and you had swooned. No one had done anything like that for you before.

The dress fit perfectly. Highlighted all the right parts of you and for once you actually felt pretty. You did some simple makeup, pinned your hair up in a loose bun and wore the only pair of heels you could walk in. Greg was there to collect you when you were done, his jaw dropping to the floor when you emerged from your apartment building and you chuckled at his reaction. You both then got a taxi to the embassy and he had been unable to keep his eyes off of you or his lips from yours. Maybe tonight was the night that you’d let him into your bed.

You arrived a short while later and made your way inside, people excitedly bussing around you as you made your way to where the party was being held. The hall in the embassy had been decorated in traditional American fashion. Tinsel, baubles and lights adorned the walls and a large, audacious, tree sat in the centre of the room with presents surrounding its base. You gazed around in awe of what you were seeing and Greg couldn’t stop watching at you.

Little did you know, neither could Javier Peña.

He had spotted you as soon as you’d entered. He had seen you around over the past few years but until now had never spared you a second glance. He watched you as you entered with Greg from accounts. He’d spoken to Greg a handful of times and he always seemed nice enough, if not a little dull. His attention was so stuck on you that he didn’t even hear Steve talking his ear off until his name was shouted in frustration. Pulling the agent from his fancy.

“Oh no, you leave that one alone.” Growled Steve when he noticed who Javier was staring at.

“What… why?”

“Because I know what you’re like and she’s sweet. She has worked hard to keep herself out of the limelight and you paying her any sort of attention will destroy that completely.” Stated Steve, downing that last of his drink as he watched you head to the bar with your companion “Besides she’s dating Greg anyway.”

“Greg’s dull.” Mumbled Javier and Steve barked out a laugh.

“Greg is nice and perfect for her.” Asserted the blonde agent “Leave her alone.” He warned and Javier simply rolled his eyes, waving his partner off as he stood.

‘Another.’ He asked as he lifted his empty glass and Steve nodded before turning his head to seek out his wife in the bustle of people beside him.

Javier watched you as he approached the bar, taking you in as he came to a stop a few stools over. The dress you wore fitted your form beautifully, highlighting your small waist and larger breasts. You had a perfect hourglass figure and he practically salivated at the sight, wanting nothing more than to worship every inch of you but you were forbidden fruit. Which made it all the harder to resist you.

You hadn’t noticed Javier watching you but Greg had and he felt resentment start to simmer beneath the surface of his skin. If Agent Peña had set his sights on you then he had no chance. No one could resist that man's charms. He was relieved however to see that you remained blissfully unaware of the man’s attentions so he did his best to keep yours on him.

“They’ve done a wonderful job with the decorations huh?” He spoke as he wrapped his arm around your waist and you nodded eagerly in reply “You’re the most beautiful thing here though.”

“Oh shush Greg.” You chuckled, you’d never been very good at taking a compliment.

“No seriously.” He said as he gazed longingly at you “These last few months have been… Well they’ve been wonderful and I know you want to take things slow and that’s fine. Just know that when you are ready, I will make sure to show you just how beautiful I think you are.”

You swooned at his statement but Javier scoffed and then as the narrative repeated in his mind he became intrigued. The two of you hadn’t slept together? How serious can you really be if you’ve never fucked? So he decided you were fair game. God help him, he was going to taste those lips before the night was done.

…

“Would you like another?” Javi asked you as he motioned to your empty glass.

You jumped at the sudden question, turning your head to see Javier Peña staring back at you. A mixture of thoughts and emotions rushed through you at once but the one that lingered was lust. The way the man opposite you was looking at you went straight to your core and you found you were losing yourself in his dark chocolate orbs.

“Oh uh… Yes please.” You fumbled, the shock of your current situation lingering.

“You look lovely.” He said sweetly as he motioned at the barman to refresh yours and his drinks “A little different to your usual get up.”

“How would you know what I usually wear?” You questioned, a little taken aback by his statement.

“I’ve seen you around.” He stated, shrugging his shoulders.

“Right.” You sniggered, taking a sip from your new drink “Thanks for the drink, Agent Peña.” You finished as you turned to leave only to be stopped by his hand grasping your arm.

“Call me Javi.’ He said softly as he smiled at you.

“Well, thank you again Javi but I must be getting back to my date.” Giving him a last nod you sauntered away, unable to miss the scowl plastered across Greg’s face.

“What did he want?” He asked as you came up beside him.

“He got me a drink.” You replied nonchalantly “That was all.”

“That isn’t all he wants from you.” He growled and your head shot back in shock at his change of tone.

“Greg, I am in no danger of attracting Javier Peña.” You snort, rolling your eyes at him.

“Have you seen how you look?” He snapped and you found yourself growing irritated.

“I have and I am not his type.” You spit “He’s only interested in slim, tall, perfect skinned beauties and I am none of those things Greg. You have nothing to worry about.”

Little did you know, he had plenty to worry about. As the evening went on the music started to die down and people began to say their goodnights, thinning the crowd down to the younger staff members of the embassy. Greg had remained possessive of you, noting how Javier would watch you as you danced with your friends or talked with other people from your department. He’d picked his prey and you were it. Greg, helpless to stop it.

“Would you like to dance Hermosa?” Came a deep voice from behind you and you shivered at the effect it had on you.

Turning you see Javier smiling down at you, his suit jacket long since discarded and tie also. He’d unfastened the top three buttons of his shirt and you couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight of his golden skin beneath. Then suddenly your brain caught up with the rest of you and you shook your head as you looked back up at the man that was towering over you.

“I shouldn’t.” You replied, shaking your head as you looked around nervously “I should get back to Greg.”

“Greg is stuck in a deep conversation with a bunch of other accountants.” He countered, taking one of your hands in his “Just one dance. Will be perfectly innocent I promise.”

You tried to find another reason to say no, anything, but you were coming up blank and so you were unable to resist when he pulled you gently towards the dance floor. The song was slow, soft and you glanced around at the other couples close to each other, slowly swaying to the music.

“Relax.” The agent whispered against the shell of your ear and you shivered,

“Why are you doing this Javi?” You questioned, looking up into his eyes.

“Doing what?” He asked with a mildly bemused expression on his face.

“This. Dancing with me, paying me any form of attention.” You elaborated and his brow furrowed “We both know I’m not your type so this isn’t some ploy to get me to sleep with you, or at least I hope it's not. You’ve never spoken to me before tonight so why? What’s this all about?”

“How do you know what my type is?” He questioned, dark eyes watching you closely.

“Because I live across the hall from you and so have seen many of your conquests leave. All thin and beautiful which I am not.” You chuckled to yourself, glancing at Steve who watched the two of you.

“Well firstly, I think you are beautiful.” He stated and you rolled your eyes “Really, you don’t believe me?”

“I believe you’re a smooth talker that’s good at getting women to fall in love with him.” He snorted at the, glancing at Steve a moment before returning his attention to you “I know I’m not beautiful.” You shrug “I came to terms with that a long time ago but I don’t like to be teased or played with. So if this is some sort of game or bet. Please don’t involve me.” You pleaded and Javier felt his heart ache a little that you’d think such a thing.

“This is no game Hermosa.” He said softly “I like you and I wanted to dance with you.” He continued, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek “That's all that is going on here.”

“You like me?” You questioned, unable to help the squeak in your voice.

He nodded as he smiled at you and then time seemed to stand still. Your eyes flitted to his lips as you gazed at each other, the world around you falling away as Javier Peña cupped your face and kissed you softly. You didn't react for a moment, shocked that this is even happening and then you responded, kissing him back as your hands gripped his wrists and when he pulled away, all eyes were on you.

“Can I take you home Hermosa?” He asked quietly as he gazed at you, smiling when you nodded in reply and then he was leading you out. Greg and the party were all forgotten.

…

“I hope you don’t expect me to sleep with you this evening.” You chuckled, smiling shyly at the man driving you.

“A man can always hope.” He replied, glancing at you a moment before returning his attention to the road.

“Well, I’m not that easy.” You stated, sticking your tongue out at him playfully which elicited a throating laugh from the agent "I like to be wooed first."

You loved his laugh. It brought you all new waves of pleasure to hear it but as your building seeped into view, along with a familiar-looking truck parked out front, the realisation hit you like a freight train.

“Oh my god.” You sobbed as you hopped out of his truck, clutching your middle as you cried.

“Hermosa what’s wrong?” Asked Javier, his tone panicked as he sprinted to your side.

“Greg.” You choked and he noticed you staring at the vehicle parked in front of his “I kissed you, and I left him there. What… Why would I do that?”

Javier pulls you into his arms, holding you as you cried over the relationship you know you had destroyed. He pulled you with him, taking you inside and into his apartment where he sat you down on his couch and poured you a drink.

“Thank you.” You hiccuped as you took the drink from him, staring at the glass as he sat beside you “I liked Greg.” You started, eyes not wavering from your glass “He was sweet. Liked me for me and I’d never had that before. All my previous boyfriends wanted one thing and I got burned so much I gave up on the idea that someone could want more with me.”

“You have to go through some hurt to find the right man.” Javier replied, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close “You’ll find him I’m sure. You deserve happiness.”

You sat there and talked for a little longer. Until your eyes were so heavy you could no longer keep them open and when Javier noticed you dosing off, he scooped you into his arms and carried you to his bed. He didn’t try anything. Just simply held you and it was the best sleep he’d had in years.

~

You had no idea you’d be the talk of the office when you returned from the holidays. Greg hadn’t spoken to you since that night and neither had Javi. You’d snuck out the next morning before he’d woken up, mortified that you’d fall asleep at his. You knew you hadn't had sex with him but you’d still slept with him and that brought on all kinds of different emotions. Did he like you the way you like him?

“So how was it?” Asked Kirsten as sat down at your desk, her eyebrows lifting.

“How was what?” You asked, your confusion evident in your features.

“Your hot night with agent Peña.” She elaborated and you almost choked on your coffee “You did fuck him right?”

“No, I didn’t.” You expelled, already feeling sick to the stomach at the realisation you were the talk of the office.

“Oh come on.” She rolled her eyes at your denial “No one goes home with Javier Peña without him having his way with them. You’re so lucky.” She sighed “Although poor Greg left with his tail between his legs. No one blames you for going to the better dish though… Javi is quite the meal.”

You abruptly grabbed your bag and stood from your chair, not stopping to pick it up as it clattered on the stone floor. All you could think about was getting out of there, and fast. You couldn’t miss the sniggering as you swiftly left the office, only to be stopped by two hands grabbing your shoulders.

“Woah what's up?” Asked Greg as he pulled you to the side.

“I uh… everyone's laughing at me.” You sobbed, eyes skirting around and catching peoples stares.

“What did you expect when you went home with Agent Peña.” He scoffed and you looked up at him with a broken expression “All those months clearly meant nothing to you as you dropped your panties for him the moment he called.”

“What? No… I didn’t sleep with him.” You assured, head shaking tears loose from your eyes “I swear to you I didn’t. He kissed me and that’s it.”

“Didn’t see you pushing him away.” He growled and your stomach sank “Despite what you pulled, I still care about you so I will have a word with the others. Just try to keep your head down from now on yeah?”

You nodded, sniffing as you watched him walk away but as you looked around you could see that everyone was still looking at you, talking about you.

You needed to leave.

Your sprinted to the elevators, uncaring of anyone else's attention and pressed the button vigorously, willing it to arrive. You didn’t even look when it opened, just shuffled inside and pressed the button for the parking level. You’d explain later why you’d left.

“Everything okay?” Came a soft Southern voice and you turned your head to see Steve beside you “Rough day?”

“Putting it lightly.” You replied, letting out a watery chuckle as you threw your head into your hands.

“I told Javi to leave you alone. Fucking prick.”

“No this is all my fault.” You sobbed as you looked up at him “Javi was sweet. I should really talk to him but today isn’t the day. Right now I need to go home and wallow.”

“Well, you can do that together if you like.” He chuckled and you looked at him in confusion “He ended up taking today off.

“Right.” You replied as you pulled your bag tighter over your shoulder as you exited the lift and headed towards your car.

Maybe you should speak to him today.

…

You’d more or less talked yourself out of it by the time you'd made it back to your apartment building. You pulled into your allotted parking spot, sprinted up the stairs and made it to your front door, only to be stopped by a familiar voice.

“What are you doing back?” He asked and you turned to face him, noting how his brows were drawn together in concern.

“I uh… Well, let's just say I’m the talk of the office.” You replied plainly as you pulled out your key, desperate to escape this inevitable conversation.

“Why?” He asked and you looked at him again in amazement.

Did this guy seriously have no clue?

“Well, let's see Javi. I turned up at this year's Christmas party with Greg, the guy I was seeing and then left with you after you kissed me in front of all of our colleagues. Why do you think that I’m the subject for office gossip?” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you awaited his response.

“We didn’t sleep together thought?”

“They don’t know that” You replied, rolling your eyes at him “So that’s what everyone assumed happened. That I waited months to take that step with Greg but one kiss from you and I give you what you want.”

“I’m sorry Hermosa.” He replied, his eyes taking on a sad puppy dog quality that immediately had your anger melting away.

“Why aren’t you at work today Javi?” You questioned as your body language relaxed and you turned to put your key in the door.

“One of my informants died.” He announced and you immediately turned to look at him “She uh… Well, she was ratted in by one of her colleagues. We found her last night mutilated and raped.”

“Oh Javi, I’m… I’m so sorry.” You replied as you gave him a sympathetic look, your heart breaking from the pain that was so evident on his face “Did you want to come in?” You asked innocently and he nodded, taking the hand you offered and following you inside.

Little did you know that this time, you really would give Javi what he wanted. You talked, you consoled each other, you kissed and then finally when the kissing became heated and passionate you fucked him, allowing your own troubles to be dissolved by pleasure. You allowed yourself to lose yourself in him and he buried himself in you to escape himself but when all was done and you lay their sated in his arms you started to wonder.

Maybe he did like you.

~

It doesn’t take long for word to spread around the office that you had fucked Javier Peña now. Someone else who lived in the building overhearing your activities and telling the entire office the following day so when you’d turned up the following feeling more relaxed, it was quickly ripped away from you.

“So decided to skive off for a fantastic fuck with Javi Peña eh?” Kirsten asked as she winked at you, the colour completely draining from your face “You lying slut though. I knew you were shagging him.”

“I uh…”

“Oh no use in denying it, you were heard. You’re apparently pretty vocal in the sack.” She sniggered as the other girls in the office started to chuckle along with her “Oh Javi.” She mocked “Oh Javi yes… just there-“

You left before she could finish her berating, tears streaming down your cheeks as you made your way through the halls to the bathrooms in the hope you could cry alone in there but sure enough, you were not to be so lucky. Greg grabbed you as you tried to scurry past but there was no sympathy in those blue orbs anymore, nothing but anger.

“You fucking slut.” He growled, eyes burning you “I courted you for months. Treated you right and the first moment you get you fuck man whore Peña?” He spat and you flinched at his outburst “You just used me. Did you even fucking like me?”

“Yes, Greg.” You sobbed, fat tears flowing freely now “I did like you... I do even. I like you a lot, I swear I didn’t use you.”

“But you couldn’t resist opening your legs for Javier Peña.” He growled, snarling at you as he watched your face crumble “You know he doesn’t commit so good luck regaining any credibility you had here.” He finished, leaving you sobbing in his wake.

You quickly sprinted through the halls, people's mocking laughter filling your ears but you just pushed forward. You looked up a moment and that's when you caught eyes with him, the man from which all this trouble had stemmed from and you stopped, giving him a hopeful look as he grabbed your arm and pulled you to one side.

“What's the matter?”

“You seriously the only person in the embassy not to hear the latest gossip?” You asked, noticing the genuine confusion that spread across his face.

“We were heard Javi.” You explained, wiping your cheeks with your sleeves “Someone heard us and has told everyone.” You sobbed, face leaning into his hand as he cupped your cheek “But you can set everyone straight, tell them that this is different? I mean, it was different right?” You asked, eyes pleading for him to soothe your worries.

“Hermosa…” He trailed off as he dropped his hand and shook his head, your stomach dropping “Hermosa I-.”

“You said you like me.” You choked, eyes growing wide as you shook your head in disbelief “That I’m beautiful.”

“I do and you are.” He assured you “But I’m not a commitment guy.” He paused and you felt sick “What we did was just two friends comforting each other. Nothing more.”

You can’t believe it. How had you gone and done this again? You’d given yourself to someone body and soul only to be stomped on again. You were a fool and you knew it. There was never going to be a chance of Javier Peña want more than to bury himself in you. You were plain. Simple.

Ordinary.

You left without another word. Darting into the nearest bathroom where you emptied the contents of your stomach before crying yourself dry. When you did finally emerge you were called into your manager's office and were instantly told to take some time. You had some leave to take so they advised you to take it. Let the scandal die down a little. You couldn’t be the talk of the office forever.

So you do. You take the two months you accrued and you leave, numb the entire drive back to your apartment. You thought about going home, actually taking a vacation but then you’ve never been one for adventure. You don’t have anyone back home. No family or friends to speak of so you decide to spend it here. At home. Wallowing in your own self-pity.

~

2 months later…

Javier had noticed your absence and he’d also noticed that you never left your apartment. At least you never left it when he was around to see it. He knew you were due back today, one of the other secretaries informing him that your leave had ended so why weren’t you here? It wasn’t like you to be late. You were always in before most of the other office admins were, sipping your coffee as you went through your daily schedule.

No one else seemed to be worried about your absence. A few assuming you’d forgotten that you were due to come back but they were a little surprised when Agent Peña had started asking around for you. Everyone knew that things between you and him had crashed and burned, your very public refusal being the next hot topic for the weeks that followed. So when he came up short with your colleagues he went to your boss, his worry growing by the minute.

“I’m not sure why it matters to you where she is.” Stated your boss as they continued to skim through the paperwork in front of them “It’s because of you that she ended up taking leave.”

“I understand that but…”He paused a moment, trying to carefully plan what he needed to say “She lives opposite me. I’ve not seen her leave in two months or even heard a peep from her apartment. I know that her suffering is my doing but I do care about her well being.”

“Well, you should have thought about her well being before you dragged her name through the dirt.”

“Do you know where she is?” He growled, growing more and more impatient by the second.

“Yes, I do.” They replied plainly.

“So?”

“She’s in the hospital.” Javier’s eyes shot open, stomach dropping as he stared at the older woman across from him.

“What… what happened?” He asked although he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“I can’t tell you that.” She stated and he let out a frustrated sigh

“Is she at least going to be okay?”

“She’s in a bad way.” She paused as she finally placed the documents in her hands down “If you want to see her I can’t stop you. Just know… it is very likely that she won’t want to see you.”

She told the agent where you were and watched as he left, knowing that deep down he had a right to know what had happened to put you there.

…

A few flashes of his badge and he was soon led to your room, stopping the doctor as he left your room and demanding he be told what was wrong. He could see that you were sleeping inside and he felt himself ease a little seeing that you weren’t bloody and beaten. So what was wrong?

“She was poisoned.” The doctor explained in Spanish and Javier felt his anxiety shoot through the roof again.

“Poisoned?” He asked “How? By who?”

“By herself.” The doctor stated and Javier’s stomach dropped.

Had he really hurt you that badly?

“She tried to terminate her pregnancy using an old home remedy.” The doctor elaborated and Javier jumped at that.

“Pregnancy?”

“Yes.” The doctor nodded “She is around 2 months pregnant.”

Javier knew instantly it was his and a mixture of emotions coursed through him. Why had you not come to him? Why did you feel like this was the right thing to do? If there was a baby involved he would do what was right. You had to know that right?

“She is sedated.” The doctor continued “The baby survived. The remedy did not work but it did nearly kill her. She was hysterical when she arrived. Begging us to save it.” He paused, glancing at you before returning his attention to Javier “I don’t think she really wanted to get rid of it. She was just desperate and scared. She should be okay though. We will continue to monitor her and the baby. ”

Javier nodded before stepping aside so the Doctor could leave. His mind was racing as he stepped inside of your hospital room and taking a seat at your side. He would wait. Wait until you woke up and he would talk to you. He needed to understand why you did this. Why you felt you had no other option.

…

You were shocked to find Peña dosing in the chair beside your bed when you woke up. How did he even know you were here? Your head was pounding and your mouth dry so you turned your head to find the bottle of water a nurse had brought you earlier, only to knock it when you went to grab it. The agent woke instantly and you groaned in frustration. You didn’t need his lecture right now.

“Hey.” He said softly as he grabbed the bottle and opened it before bringing it to your lips “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged as you sipped the water, relishing how it soothed your sore throat and dry tongue. You nodded when you’d had your fill and watched as he screwed the lid back on and placed it back on the table.

“What are you doing her Javier?” You rasped and he flinched at your inquiry.

“I was worried about you.” He stated, sad eyes locking with yours “The doctor said you and the baby are going to be okay.” He said with a smile and your eyes started to water.

“So you know?”

“Yes.” He replied plainly “He also told me you tried to get rid of it.” He paused, stroking away a tear that escaped from your eye “Why?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t want it.” You replied, lip trembling as you spoke “And I didn't want to raise it on my own.” You paused, watching him process your words before you go for the jugular “Besides, I was just another one of your conquests. Can't go tarnishing your record and I’ve destroyed my reputation enough. Having your baby will just destroy whatever integrity I have left.”

“So what are you going to do?” He asks, stomach twisting.

“I’m going to leave Javier.” You said plainly “I will leave and I will raise this baby on my own. No one will ever need to know you have a bastard child with one of your many whores. I want nothing from you so you can go now.”

“Hermosa I-“

“Leave.” You growled, angry tears staining your cheeks “I’m giving you the out you want. Take it.”

Part 2

[thenamesseven]

Plot: Living with the Seven Deathly sins was difficult but it was definitely worth it because of him, your favorite sin, Kim Taehyung.

A/N: Ahhh I know I was supposed to upload A Hell of a Boyfriend today buuut my friend requested this a month ago and I wanted to focus on finishing it today so she could finally read it! Hope you guys enjoy it too ^^

Word count: 4.3k

Warnings: Smut, Jungkook being a bit....Violent xD

Living with the Seven Deadly Sins wasn't easy, no matter how epic or intimidating that sounded, sharing your home with them was as having seven teenagers as roommates. It wasn't until you found them, that you realized how much parents suffered when their kids started having this kind of behaviour. 

You honestly weren't sure how you've managed to survive so many years besides them, any ordinary person would have ran away as soon as they realized who they were dealing with but, oh well, when have you ever been normal? Besides, leaving their shitty traits aside, all seven of them were good friends, they were loyal and people you could trust blindly.  

It was moments like the one you were in, when you doubted if all the headaches they gave you were really worth it. 

"For the love of God Jimin, I didn't say Namjoon's outfit looked better than yours!"

It all had started with Namjoon and Jimin getting ready for some kind of event they had tonight. After praising Jimin's choice of clothing for ten minutes straight he had finally been convinced that he looked good in what he was wearing but, as soon as Namjoon had walked into the room wearing a tuxedo, his Envy had appeared because apparently, you had whistled at the sight of him. 

That's all it took for Jimin to change his mind about his outfit, claiming that, since you found Namjoon's more appealing, he would have to look for something better than his so you could be even more stunned. 

"You didn't need to say it" Namjoon scoffed, eyes glued to the mirror as his fingers skillfully fixed the buttons on his jacket's sleeves. You rolled your eyes at him, his attitude wouldn't definitely help in this situation. Pride was the most annoying sin to deal with, especially when he got involved with Jimin's envy. 

"He is right, you didn't even have to praise him" Jimin agreed with a small pout, leaving you speechless, what the hell was that supposed to mean? You had praised him before because if you wouldn't have, Jimin would have never gotten dressed "I could see it in your eyes" He added as if you weren't confused enough. 

Frustrated, you let out another sigh as your eyes followed Jimin into your walk in closet and Namjoon out of the bedroom since he was finally ready to leave. They would be late though, because Jimin wouldn't leave until he finds an outfit better than Namjoon's, which means he would change another thousand times.

Tiredly, you laid down on the bed beside Yoongi, who was peacefully napping, cuddled up against the stupidly large amount of pillows he had there. Curious, you turned your head to look at his sleeping face, smiling a little when you saw how calm and relaxed he seemed to be there. How he hadn't been woken up by the previous argument was a mystery to you but well, he was Yoongi after all, Sloth was meant to be lazy twenty four hours a day, no matter what the situation was. 

Without holding back the childish urge to poke his cheek, you gently pressed your finger against his skin, earning a quiet humming from his lips "Yoongles" You whispered, being loud enough for him to hear you perfectly. The male frowned, obviously disliking your interaction with him but now that he had moved, you knew he was listening to you "Tell Jimin his outfit it's also good" 

Yoongi laid on his side, facing the wall and keeping his chubby cheeks away from your hands, dodging any future attempts of waking him up with the same technique you just used “It is awesome” He mumbled quietly, nuzzling his face deeper into the pillow.

“You didn’t even open your eyes” Jimin whined and although you were starting to get kind of annoyed at his complaining, you had to admit that he was kind of right on that one. Yoongi hadn’t even glanced at him, it was obvious he had just said those words so you would leave him alone “Don’t care anyways, I have to find something better!" Jimin exclaimed frustrated, Yoongi already started snoring quietly beside you.

You were about to say something to Jimin, anything that would stop his whining but Jungkook was faster and more effective without any doubts. 

"I swear to God Jimin! If you don't shut the fuck up I'll barge in your room and punch you!" 

Jungkook's words made Jimin go pale, his mouth instantly closing as he turned away from you to face his wardrobe. You, on the other hand, were biting your lip as hard as you could to avoid laughing at him. 

Having heard Jungkook's scream, Jin made his way down the hall to the bedroom, poking his head inside. His eyes first inspected the younger male, watching for a few seconds how he picked up shirts just to discard them and throw them away without sparing them a second glance. But then, as he kept shoving a bunch of chips into his mouth, his eyes were dragged to you and curiosity sparked in his eyes when he realized you were holding back your laughter.

"What's so funny?" 

Fucking Jin. 

Jimin instantly turned around, eyes landing on your guilty yet slightly red face, before betrayal flashed in his features. Discarding you like one of his shirts, he grabbed a bunch of clothes and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door loud enough behind him to let the rest of people in the building know he was mad. 

"Good job Jin" You sighed, standing up from the bed, rolling your eyes as you walked towards the door "Now if he whines again and Jungkook punches him, it will be your fault"

Jin shrugged, stepping aside so you could walk out of the room "Want some?" He asked, turning the bag of chips in your direction. 

You shook your head "You never get tired of eating?" You asked, genuinely amazed by how much food he could consume in a day. 

"He will ruin us all" Hoseok or Greed muttered as he walked into the bathroom "I'm tired of using MY money to pay for your food"

"Oh shut up, you eat too" Jin scoffed walking away, rolling his eyes. 

You turned around, willing to go into your room where none of their drama would get in your way when you walked into a hard, broad chest. Hands instantly flew to your forearms, keeping you in your place, rescuing your poor butt from landing on the hard cold floor of the apartment. 

"Easy there baby" You didn't have to look up to know who was standing in front of you, his deep voice was enough to know Lust, also known as Kim Taehyung had been the one that saved you "You good?" He asked amused, hands still on you as his eyes scanned your surprised face. 

Your relationship with Taehyung was complicated. You were dating but you also weren't at the same time, the two of you knew the way to each other's bed way too well, the guys were also aware of the affairs that had taken place in your rooms. You were also exclusive, none of you were allowed to see anybody else since, as Taehyung liked to say, you were his as much as he was yours. 

I mean, whose panties wouldn't drop if THE Kim Taehyung said that? 

Feelings were complicated with him though. Taehyung, as you've learned with time, was attracted to people by sexual impulses, he was the personification of Lust after all, so his nature was mostly attracted to sexual satisfaction. Love had been an unknown or taboo word in his dictionary until you came around and even though the possibility of being something more than casual lovers had been mentioned, you were well aware that Taehyung was still a bit scared of what relationships might imply. 

Keeping things simple despite being complicated was your best option. The two of you had been doing well so far, why ruin it with tags and status? The two of you knew better than that. 

"This house is just…Chaotic, I swear one of these days I'll either explode or kill someone" You muttered to him, who only chuckled at your expected response. He had been living long enough with the guys to get used to their behaviour but he was sure it had to be a little tiring for a human. 

"Now you get how I feel right?" Jungkook suddenly intervened, popping his head out of his room to look at you "The hypocrisy in this household is unbelievable" He scoffed, obviously irritated. 

"What are you even talking about now?" You exclaimed frowning, not really getting why he was mad with you. 

"I do something that's a little violent and you all call me aggressive but you threaten to kill one of us and it's cute" Taehyung snorted at his brother's words, not like he disagreed though, he kind of had a point there

"Nobody said I'm cute?"

"Tell that to your whipped ass boyfriend" Jungkook exclaimed as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire universe, putting the spotlight straight on Tae. 

"I mean, technically, you are worse than her" Namjoon joined the two of you, still waiting for Jimin to get dressed. "(Y/N) hasn't killed any of us yet"

"I haven't either" Jungkook crossed his arms on his chest defensively "Your point?"

"Last night you threw the remote control at Hoseok because he walked by the television when you were playing video games" Namjoon said getting competitive, ready to slam Jungkook into the next dimension with his facts "We could count that as a murder attempt"

"I was playing Overwatch! And he stumbled over the cables! I thought he would disconnect the console" Jungkook said ready to debate, it was impossible to win Namjoon though, he knew he was walking straight into a lost battle. 

"Are we going to ignore how none of them freaked out at the word boyfriend?" Hoseok pointed out from the other end of the hall, sharing a new bag of chips with Jin. 

"That's called character development" Jin said, a teasing smirk on his lips "Now either (Y/N) gets accidentally pregnant or Tae asks her to marry him" You opened your mouth to say something but you knew that would only make everything worse. 

"We can't afford any of those right now" Hoseok frowned, looking at the two of you as if he truly believed Jin had discovered your plans.

The older scoffed besides him "With all the money you've got saved up? They could have an entire army of babies and get married as many times as they wanted"

"Not happening, my money is untouchable" Hoseok finished the conversation, disinterested now that wasting money was mentioned. 

"Aaaand that's our cue to go" Taehyung announced, resting his hands on your shoulders and gently pushing you deeper into the corridor, towards his room in order to walk away from the chaotic mess your roommates were.

The two of you walked into his bedroom, their never ending snickering becoming background muffled noise as soon as Taehyung closed the door, shutting the two of you out of the disaster that was taking place outside. 

Tiredly, you plopped down onto his bed, falling face first down onto the mattress, instantly burying your face against his pillow. His manly yet delicate scent welcomed you and a smile made its way up to your lips when you sniffed the new cologne he had been using. 

"That was…" Taehyung started off, breaking the silence between the two of you as he approached his bed. 

"Intense? Stressing?” You asked, finishing his sentence, a smile tugging onto your lips when you heard his deep chuckle. 

"I was going to say entertaining but yeah, I guess you could also describe it that way" He replied laying besides you, his back pressed down against the mattress as he extended both of his arms, placing one of them across your stomach. 

"I'm probably going to sound a bit rude here but sometimes I can't wait for the day we move out to our own place" You mumbled turning your head to look at him, obliging to his subtle order when he gently pushed your body closer to him, making you lay on your side so you could keep your chest pressed against his side. "And not wake up because Jungkook is about to murder somebody or because Jimin is getting all whiny again" 

"Or eat whatever we want without being afraid of Jin eating it before us" Taehyung said chuckling, turning on his side too, so he could be face to face with you. 

"Or nap as much as I want without Yoongi getting grumpy because I stole his favorite napping place….Like the entire house is his favorite napping place!" Your sudden frustrated exclamation made Taehyung chuckle, his arms instantly coming to your rescue and holding you in order to comfort the frustration out of you. 

"I'm so sorry about it" He said, attempting to sound honest without laughing about it anymore "We'll just have to keep saving up for a little more, we're almost there babygirl"

You nodded quietly, unable to keep complaining when Taehyung inched himself closer to you body, pressing himself up against you as he casually buried his face into your neck. Dating Taehyung, the personification of Lust, made you learn he never did anything innocently, every gesture, every caress and every touch, no matter how innocent or insignificant they seemed, always led to the intimacy he craved.

It was never the wrong time, you were never in the wrong place. Taehyung always got what he wanted because let’s be honest, who were you to say no to him? You were always a sucker for him and the attention he gave you, Tae was a deathly seducer whose weapons were sweet words and lovely embraces, there was no human alive that would ever resist the temptation he represented.

“Do you know what it would also mean, right?” Before you could do something, Taehyung applied enough force onto your body to press your back down against the bed, lowering his body so his chest would still be against yours without letting his entire weight crush you. You hummed in response, signaling for him to keep talking in that hushed, husky voice you loved so much “You could walk around in just one of my shirts without worrying about the rest of the guys showing up” He gently pressed his lips underneath your ear, right where he knew one of your weak spots was. Your breath got slightly shaky, heart pounding and sending rushes of blood through your veins mixed with excitement and anticipation “I could also take you whenever and wherever I want” Another kiss sent shivers down your spine when his lips moved lower on your neck “On the kitchen counter” His lips caressed your skin again “On our couch, on the floor, in the shower….Everywhere” Every time he named a new location, another kiss would sent waves of teasing pleasure through your body. “And last but not least” He moved back, your body silently complaining when the warmth of his breath abandoned your skin but you instantly relaxed when he positioned them back against yours, rubbing them against your parted lips gently, slowly, in such a sensual way that he almost made you whine “I could finally make you get as loud as I want you to, because baby, I love the sounds you make when I make you feel good”

“Taehyung” His name came out as a breathy moan, caressing his lips in the softest of ways yet, he refused to kiss you, he wanted to tease you for a little longer.

Humming, he leaned back to look at you, eyes scanning your face with a glint of amusement and need in his eyes “Hmm, what is it baby?” He asked quietly, thumb finding its way to your lips, running it along your lower one “What do you want?” Taehyung smirked as one of his hands moved down your cheek to your neck, fingers caressing your collarbone as they slowly made their way down on your body.

“You know what I-”

Your words got stuck in your throat when he touched the small wet patch that had appeared in your underwear, the smirk that pulled the corners of his lips up said it all, he was more than satisfied by how fast he had managed to turn you on. Cocky bastard. “My oh my, what do we have here?” Taehyung chuckled when your cheeks turned red, his face lowering until his lips landed back on your neck “I haven’t even touched you and you’re like this?” His fingers pressed on your clothed clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body, making your toes curl as he chuckled “If we-”

Jimin’s shriek echoed in the apartment, making you and Taehyung jump startled, and the stomping sound that followed, made you guess he had kept whining and Jungkook had finally had enough of it. You couldn’t blame him though, patience was needed, a requirement when dealing with Jimin and poor Jungkook had none of it, you didn’t know how haven’t they killed each other yet.

“This is why we need to move out asap” Taehyung’s sigh made you chuckle, amused while he shook his head tiredly.

“I thought we were already used to that background noise” You muttered smirking, biting your lip to not laugh even more since he seemed to be really bothered by it.

“How am I supposed to get in the mood knowing Jungkook is about to strangle Jimin?” His words definitely made you laugh this time, the situation was too much for you to keep a straight face. 

If there was a sight that Taehyung liked more than your naked body underneath his, it definitely was your face when you laughed. The way your eyes glinted with happiness and how your white teeth blinded him, the joyful sound of your laughter was the most wonderful melody for his ears and it never failed to make him laugh too.

Your cheerfulness was contagious, that’s one of things he loved the most about you.

Jimin shouted for help, Jin actually started shouting too but since you were too familiar with the chaos going on in there, you simply laughed more “GUYS, SHUT UP!” Taehyung suddenly exclaimed “GOD I’M TRYING TO GET SOME ACTION AND YOU’RE OUT THERE MURDERING EACH OTHER”

A sudden silence flooded the apartment, you simply buried your head into Taehyung’s neck to avoid laughing too loud. Your body shook underneath him and it all got worse when you got to hear the guys whisper-arguing with each other.

“If somebody else shouts one more time….Even Jungkook will be scared shitless of me” Taehyung threatened, you didn’t need to look up at him to know he was also fighting to keep himself serious, struggling to keep the laughter out of his voice so the guys wouldn’t think he was joking around.

“Can (Y/N) evaluate my new outf-”

“Jimin she’s fucking naked, do you think she can?” 

“See!? You all get her attention but I don’t! It’s just not fair!”

At this point you were howling with laughter, unable to keep it in anymore as Jimin walked away, complaining about something else, totally forgetting about his outfit issue. Taehyung started laughing as soon as he heard his brother’s steps getting further, keeping his arms around your body as he buried his face against the pillow.

“Should I help him out?” You asked quietly, running your hands up and down his back as he started taking deep breaths, calming himself down before he ran out of breath after laughing so much “I kind of feel bad for him” 

“Oh shut up, there’s a bigger problem here that you need to solve”

Without a warning, Taehyung subtly moved his hips against you, reminding you of the things you had been doing before another fight had unleashed outside of your bedroom. His switch had been flipped once again and he was back to business in no time. His hand slid underneath your shirt, running his big palm across your smooth stomach, fingertips caressing the hem of your bra.

“I can’t believe you even considered leaving me here, aaaaall alone, love” His kisses turned open-mouthed, playful licks wetting your skin while his teeth scratched it gently. With Taehyung doing all those things to you, it was pretty easy to quickly forget about Jimin and his problems, you’ll help him out when you weren’t that busy.

“I’m sorry” You apologized, almost breathless as he pulled your shirt up, getting rid of it and tossing it down onto the floor, sighing shakily when his hands moved up to cup both of your covered breasts.

“You better be” He said teasingly, winking at you, eyes moving down to his own hands that were already undoing the straps of your bra, willing to get you naked as soon as possible “If we had more time...You’re lucky I’m not willing to get the risk of getting interrupted again” Your heart started pounding harder when his lips left small, teasing kisses on your chest, inching closer and closer to your breasts. 

However, before Taehyung’s hands touched them, giving in into your needy whimpers, he leaned back enough to be able to turn your body around, making you lay down on your stomach. Your insides melted when his warm breath caressed the back part of your neck, turning your skin into goosebumps, filling your body with anticipation.

“You’re such a tease” You groaned, giggling when he roughly pulled your pants and panties down until they were around your ankles, not discarding them completely. Taehyung gripped your hair, gently pulling it back so your face would be closer to his, allowing him to leave a couple of gentle pecks on your skin.

“You love it” He answered, lowering his crotch down against you, teeth biting down onto your neck, stealing a moan out of you.

“I hate it” You replied quietly, gripping the bed sheets when you heard the zip of his pants rolling down.

“Oh, you do?” You heard him smile, a shiver running down your spine knowing what was about to come “Let’s see how much you actually hate it”

Taehyung didn’t waste any more time in foreplay, he didn’t even take his own time to tease you and push his way in little by little like he always did. Maybe it was because Jimin’s interruption had really pissed him off or because your teasing had really worked him up, whatever it was, it prevented him from being gentle with you.

He slid himself into you easily, your wetness acting as lubricant, making it painless and much pleasant for him to thrust all the way in. The both of you moaned in unison, your voice way louder than his, when your inner walls clenched around him, trying to get more, pulling him in deeper but Taehyung knew he needed a few seconds before moving if he didn’t want to end this too fast. You felt one of his hands running up your back, arm slowly sliding around your neck as he pulled you back against him.

“Yeah, you do sound like you hate it so so much” He whispered huskily, a smirk still present in his lips as he left teasing kisses on your cheek that were far from innocent in this context.

You opened your mouth to say something, ready to give him another one of those smartass comments that he hated so much but Taehyung used his position to his advantage and started moving once again, keeping the words stuck in your throat, the only sound leaving your lips were moans and whines that gave away how much you were enjoying this.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He asked, resting his forehead on your shoulder, hand coming back down onto the mattress so he wouldn’t lose his balance while moving.

There was nothing else you could do, Taehyung always won this battle between the two of you. With your head resting against his shoulder, you took what he gave you, body rocking upwards every single time his hips came back down to crash against yours. Swears left your lips, praises left his and multiple kisses were exchanged between the two of you.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end and despite Taehyung being the human representation of Lust, he wasn’t gifted with endless stamina. You knew the two of you were about to jump over the edge when his thrusts started stuttering, when his pace became too fast and irregular, always hitting the right spots for you even though he had stopped thinking long ago to act on his instincts.

Your voices got more high pitched and his name became a mantra you repeated over and over again as the orgasm shook you to the core. Legs shaking and body tensing uncontrollably underneath him seconds before he went through the same blissful feeling.

As soon as he was done, Taehyung rested his whole weight onto you but you were too spaced out to even complain about it, smiling when his hair tickled you. “Still alive?” You asked jokingly, breathing in sync with him.

“Barely” He replied quietly, burying his face into your neck, placing small affectionate kisses on there. “Although, I think I have enough strength to make you mine one more time in the shower”

“I mean, I can’t really say no to th-”

“Are you guys done? I really need (Y/N)’s opinion!” Jimin’s whined were back and with that…

“JIMIN SHUT THE FUCK UP”

Jungkook’s fury too.

[prose-for-hire]

[I know what you did last] Halloween: The Final Chapter

Part One // Part Two // Part Three

Pairing: Scooby gang x reader (platonic)

This is the last part of a platonic story with the reader as part of the Scooby gang. Set season 3. This is a multi-parted serial killer/slasher fic for Halloween. 

Thank you so much to those who have followed along - I have really enjoyed writing this! 🖤🦇

Warning: It is a serial killer fic, main characters are still going to die (I’m sorry, it’s Halloween). There is reference to past alleged suicide and other deaths. Violence. Blood mention.

Halloween Hoax?

Sunnydale Express, October 1999. Official Death count: 6.

 A detailed confession, hot off the presses that had been thought of as a Halloween prank by teenaged trouble-makers that was sent to our press room turned out to be the real deal.

A young woman, named as Miss Rosenberg, killed her boyfriend in cold blood before ending her own life in the early morning of last night. 

A Sunnydale exclusive: The real note and in-depth profiles on the youths that killed Mr Bates on page 7.

Reports that Willow committed suicide circled widely, but her death had been overshadowed. By someone else’s death. People chose to mourn Oz’s death and not hers. Nobody heard about how her father had to cut her from the tree in the back garden. Nobody heard about the defensive wounds on her arms, as if there had been a struggle.

All they heard about was the note. 

It read:

I, Willow Rosenberg, can no longer live with what myself and my peers did on Halloween in 1998. I killed Oz after he found out that me, y/n, Buffy, Cordelia, Xander and Faith committed a crime. A crime I can no longer live with.

Signed, Willow D. Rosenberg

So they all knew. The whole town published that you were a murderer. That all of your friends were. This is how you and Buffy ended up running from your homes, going into hiding. Buffy had always been a good friend to you and you were so relieved she wanted to hide rather than turn yourselves in.

She was strong and good in a crisis. The plan was to hide. You were pleased she wanted to hide rather than turn yourselves in. Her reasoning was that she wanted to put a stop to the murders before anything worse happened. Then you would decide what to do from there.

You went around to Wesley’s house. But it was vacated. Now you come to think of it, you had heard him muttering at one of the funerals about becoming something more. A demon hunter or something. He had left, meaning his house was now abandoned.

You and Buffy were holed up in his small apartment. You were silent. You had never wanted to run. Maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe you should have handed yourselves in. But there was this lingering sense of injustice. This idea that there was more of a battle left to fight. Both of you were battling with your own conscience. A lengthy battle with no end in sight.

Neither of you had seen much of Faith since you had read the contents of Willow’s note. You and Buffy were not convinced Willow had written it, of course but you knew nobody would let you speak long enough to explain. 

 It had been a few days of hiding out. You were running out of food. And patience. You and Buffy had discussed at great length what you needed to do. You had been patrolling together at night, looking for the masked figure but with no luck. Instead of patrolling, tonight you decided to go and try and make contact with Faith. At least then, despite your feelings towards her, there may be more safety in numbers.

You were about to knock on the motel door when Buffy took your arm and shook her head. She could hear something. She was packing up. Maybe she was running too. You were about to just go ahead and knock but Buffy got a strange feeling. Maybe a slayer sense or just a bad vibe. You wait around the corner and watch Faith leave. You follow her, sticking to the shadows so that she didn’t see you and so that hopefully nobody else would either.

You ended up following her to her real condo. One you had never known about. It was pretty high-end you were almost impressed. You and Buffy shared a look. Something weird was going on. She slammed the door closed and an older, male voice chastised her for it. It sounded like a father and a daughter. Extra weird.  

You waited for what felt like hours, almost holding your breath so nobody in this more well-off area turned you in.

You waited, catching parts of conversation until eventually the man left. He stepped out of the door and you and Buffy looked a picture of shock. It was Mayor Wilkins. Why would she be having a secret meeting with him and... a lawyer? As the Mayor and another man left, you Buffy counted to ten before barging in to confront her.

“Faith” Buffy announced your presence. 

“What the hell was that!?” You shouted, “The mayor said you were doing a ‘good job’? What the hell kind of job have you got into now?!” accusing her with something you overheard as her guests had left. Faith rolled her eyes. Busted. Buffy turned and continued to question her.

You looked around the room as Buffy took over the interrogation. This quickly turned into a fight after what you discovered. You were looking through the paperwork discarded on the table.

It was an invoice. A large amount of money paid into Faith’s account. Almost six figures. You frowned. All it read was ‘the events of October 12th’. The day Giles died. 

“You killed him?” You whispered.

“Huh?”

“You killed Giles, not the scythe stabber or whatever his stupid name is!” You turned, tears in your eyes as you scrunched up the paper.

“Faith, say this isn’t true. Say you didn’t” Buffy said slowly, her eyes welling with tears. It was all becoming too much.

“I had to do it!” She claimed, as Buffy stepped towards her, “It was a message”

“No. You had a choice” Buffy replied firmly. Her anger starting to bubble under the surface.

“And you picked the wrong one!” You continued, “How could you- you killed him!”

“No, y/n/n, you’re the reason he’s dead” Faith snapped, “You pissed the Mayor off, you pissed the killer off and y’know what? Now you’re pissing me off” 

Faith ran at you, but Buffy pulled her to face her. They traded fierce blows. Shouting and wrecking furniture.

She was working for the mayor. Getting Buffy to feel so guilty she wasn’t noticing what was going on in the mayors office. The ascension. Now the authorities are involved the mayor had to step back.

Faith didn’t back down, in fact she went on to claim that nothing would stop the ascension. Nothing would stop her from supporting the Mayor. She had enough of you all. So she wasn’t spooked when you had started to get picked off one by one. So long as she was protected. By the law. By her precious Mayor. 

They left the apartment and you tried to keep up (and be back up for Buffy) but you didn’t have the same slayer stamina as them. They were running across buildings and through the streets of Sunnydale. You had lost them several streets away and had to run for cover as you saw flashing blue lights coming towards you.

The slayers stopped on one rooftop. Fighting. Faith pulled an ornate knife, one she had been gifted, she had a glint in her eye as she started to use it in the fight. Buffy managed to block it, kicking and pushing. Faith almost gained the upper hand, taunting Buffy with every blow she matched. 

Until Buffy managed to disarm her. The smile started to fade. She didn’t think Buffy would ever do it. Not the ‘chosen one’. Surely not.

But she did. She turned the blade towards Faith and stabbed her in the abdomen. Faith fell backwards onto a truck, her wound bleeding slowly as Buffy tried to breathe again. 

Scythe survivor!

The Sunnydale Express, October 1999.

One survivor, named only as an alleged murderess who is in hand-cuffs in hospital has an alleged affiliation with the mayor’s office. Our sources tell us that she worked with the Mayor himself and has allegedly colluded with him to commit unnamed crimes.

These teens have been allowed to run riot, given passes by the authorities and parents for too long.

It makes us wonder, is the Sunnydale Slasher truly doing us a favor?

It was the next morning. Neither you or Buffy had said much since she admitted what had happened with Faith. Wesley hadn’t stopped his newspaper delivery before he left so you were receiving a copy of the Sunnydale Express each morning. After the events of the night before you could barely look at the front page. But you finally had, finding out that Faith was alive. The worrisome part was that you weren’t sure if you were relieved or not to find this out. 

“Buffy, look” You set the newspaper down on top of the book she had been staring at for almost an hour now, “She’s okay. In a coma, but you didn’-” You started to talk fast, trying to make her feel at least a little better. She didn’t reply, just moved the newspaper to set on the floor beside her and continued to stare at the book.

“Buff… you put her in hospital. Do you wanna talk about it?” You offered. You knew there was a lot more that could be talked about. You were on the run. Hated by the entire town, demons and humans alike. She had been just 

“We can’t think about that now – we have to carry on. Did you see this?” Buffy asked, still looking down into the book. You frowned, walking behind her to look. A note, hidden inside the book. The book that you had through your entire time hiding out. A place you had thought you were safe.

‘They all know what you did last Halloween. Meet me on Saturday. At the memorial. Or else.’

You shared a look and started to pack up immediately. Neither of you had much so you were ready to go. You weren’t safe here.

You waited until the sun started to fall, ironically feeling more comfortable with supernatural threats over the human one currently. Vampires, you could handle. Bumping into a police officer, not so much.

You left, sticking to the shadows. Trying not to despair about how alien your town looked to you now you were shunned to the peripheries. 

But there was no escaping your guilt. Your anxieties.

You and Buffy were now holed up in a crypt. It was cold and it was damp and your souls felt corrupted in some way. You had a horrible feeling that the protagonists of the story had now become the villains. You were so scared. Questioning every move you made. Every thought. 

You were on a heavy diet of despair, with hopelessness sprinkled in every so often. Like seasoning.

Kickbacks and corruption: sources tell all

The Sunnydale Express, October 1999.

After the horrifying revelation that one murderess may have been involved in more than one fatality, we have been Sources have revealed that the mayor has in fact been keeping the most degenerate in our community on the pay-roll. 

An anonymous source states: “One of the worst cases of corruption ever”

“He speaks of ascension, his corruption taking him straight to the Whitehouse or who knows where” A further source tells us.

The Mayor’s office declined to comment.

You had spent the entire day preparing yourselves. Trying to survive through the day. Trying to figure out if you should even fight this. You backtracked through the day, both of you did. Worried you should just hand yourselves in. Maybe the killer may leave if you handed yourselves in. Maybe you deserved this ending. No, you were going to stick to the plan.

It was mischief night. The night before Halloween where kids would vandalise and play pranks. But you and Buffy had taken the night more seriously. You were breaking into several places around town. Researching and looking around like in the old Scooby days. But with more crime being committed.

First, you broke into a library. Reading every newspaper report, every mention of a killer in a mask. After you got through reports of masked killers that would put Michael Myers to shame, you finally found the spate of murders you were looking for. Everything written about the Sunnydale slasher. You avoided reading much of the Sunnydale Express, it didn’t appear to care if it printed lies or opinion-pieces over fact.

When you printed out and re-read everything you could from the library, you moved on to another opportunity for crime. Sadly, tonight wasn’t the most you had broken the law in your lives.

Next, you broke into a hunting shop. Looking for weapons. You followed Buffy’s lead, trying to find anything that could be concealed in the clothing you were wearing (which was the next step). Buffy looked around choosing some of the weapons she may want to use. 

This was a human though as you still suspected. So you weren’t sure exactly what was going to go down the next day. It was Halloween after all, anything could happen.

You took out a chainsaw, arching an eyebrow to ask the expert what she thought. But Buffy shook her head, “I don’t think Sunnydale’s ready for a chainsaw massacre” She quipped. it was almost like you were back a year ago. Before all of this happened. Making funny comments or pop culture references at a Scooby meeting. Squabbling over who would get what weapon. You felt a sudden pang of loneliness as you spoke.

“You’re right, we should stick with old faithful” You replied, trying not to think about a joke Xander may make or a look Willow would have given you. Cordelia may have made some derogatory comment about Xander and Willow not being faithful. It made you too sad. You missed it all. You missed all of them.

Finally, you found yourself in the mall. It sounded superficial but you really did need an outfit for the memorial. You only really had what you had left the house in when you were hiding from the officers that had turned up at Giles’ house. You needed something that would help you both blend in. Black for a memorial and  a Halloween mask. You also managed to find some food to keep you going until tomorrow as well.

You decided as you were finally able to sleep that you were determined. You wouldn’t give up. You would fight. You would have to.

Flutie in Memoria

Sunnydale Express, 31st October 1999.

The time of year for candy and monsters only comes but once here in Sunnydale. It was a time that the beloved late Principal Flutie loved. The community coming together, the comradery for the fellow man. This principal embodied the spirit of Halloween and by extension the spirit of Sunnydale. He did charity work on the weekend and always had time for his students: giving back to those with troubled backgrounds. Allowing young people to show their true potential.

It highlights to us here at the Sunnydale Express that Flutie was the true meaning of being a member of the tightly knit Sunnydale community. Today, before festivities commence, we remember him.

The memorial was being held outside. Everyone was wearing a mask, but the authorities were checking every other person just in case.

 It was mid-afternoon and the sun shone high in the sky. You were stood in the shadows. There were rows and rows of chairs set out and a small platform at the front with curtains behind. It was in the centre of Sunnydale beside a large grassy area.

You and Buffy arrived as everyone else did. You wore black, just as the others. But you both felt as if you stuck out like a sore thumb. You were incredibly paranoid. The authorities were already looking for you, you knew they would be here. But you had to come. This had to end, one way or another.

Buffy had run through the plan with you again as you stood on the peripheries of the crowd, trying to avoid being recognised. But someone had seen you. Someone had been waiting. Someone walked up behind you, the hair on the back of your neck was standing on end.

“Happy Halloween, Buffy. And you, Y/n.” The masked figure spoke. He took both of your upper arms and steered you toward the front. You were now standing, hidden behind the platform that had been set up for the memorial speech.

 A man in a mask. No, a man in the mask escorted you there. Nobody so much as blinked an eye. Raised any suspicion at three people wanted for murder. Sunnydale residents really were used to turning a blind eye.

He wanted you to announce what you did. To get up on stage. He explained what you needed to do. That you needed to reveal Buffy’s identity and explain exactly what you did last Halloween. 

“They need to know. Everything. In your own words”

“It was an accident!” Buffy insisted. It was tearing her apart at night. The guilt.

“Faith landed the final blow” You muttered, knowing full well this didn’t absolve anything you had done.

“Death follows you around, once is an accident. But it’s been more than that” he muttered, finding your responses laughable,  

“Why are you here?”

“Why do you think?”

“No, why you? Why are you the one that has to teach us this lesson in psychopathy 101”

“You think I need a motive? I live on a Hellmouth, it was only a matter of time until I cracked…” he added matter-of-factly swipes at you with a scythe.

“Oh, I kinda thought the reason we were all here was so you could monologue us to death, but I guess we’re in luck”

Buffy punched him hard in the gut, doubling him over as he started to speak as you had expected. He wheezed but started to stand again. You quickly reached and unmasked him, expecting to recognise the man behind the mask.

Except, you didn’t. You and Buffy shared a confused look which she punctuated with another punch across his face.

“Who are you? Why are you doing this to us?” You asked. His reach had been insidious. He knew everything about you. He knew

“I’m Jason”

“Vorhees?”

“Flutie” He snapped. Clearly he had envisioned this big reveal somewhat differently.

“Who?”

“My uncle was your principal?” He said coldly before rolling his eyes, “The reason for the memorial today?!”

“Oh” You both nodded at the same time, realising what this was.

“I found out the truth! The cover-ups, I saw through it all!” He swung at you, barely missing your face with the blade. “You let him die! You killed him!”

“We so didn’t”

“Yeah it-it was hyena people! Totally out of our hands”

“So now you understand why Xander had to pay. Why the other four had to die” He explained, blaming everyone that had been turned into a hyena. He swung again and Buffy hadn’t been able to block this one. He had swung with such force both you and Buffy had deep slice marks that were weeping blood faster than you could comprehend what had happened. Your brain was working over time as you tried your best to ignore the wound.

“The swim team? Those girls that were found...?” The pieces were coming together. They had been part of the hyena pack. They had been targeted because of Flutie’s death. You were being targeted for ‘letting’ it happen.

There was a motive. It was revenge. Pure and simple.

“You save people. It’s your job, I mean, hello?” He shouted, wildly slicing the scythe towards you both as he spoke, “You saved demons, vampires and you couldn’t save someone that had done nothing to anyone?”

You stared at him, mouths open. How could be blame you for this? He never even cared about the human that died last Halloween. His motives were selfish. And didn’t make much sense. You and Buffy always felt guilty over those you couldn’t save. Your responsibilities, hers as a slayer and yours as just a human being, were great. You tried to protect people but mistakes happened. Almost every week was the going rate.

“Was he not special enough for you, huh y/n? Not hot enough, Buffy?” He jeered, lunging for you both as Buffy expertly kicked the scythe out of his hands. This didn’t stop him, he doubled back, evading Buffy who overbalanced in her haste and going straight for you. He put his hands around your neck, squeezing tight.

“We don’t get to choose!” You wheezed. He slammed your head back against the platform. Blood started to trickle from the back of your head. You didn’t want his hollow eyes to be the last thing you saw. You kicked out, trying to hit him. Release his grip. Your vision started to blur as Buffy righted herself, pulling his attention from you. You were released.

“He was a good person. We didn’t let-” Buffy tried to offer slowly. But he turned, cutting her off. Literally. He sliced along her collarbone and she hissed in pain, bringing her fighting stance back into play. He then jabbed at her, splitting the skin on her brow bone.

Buffy looked over to you, you had collapsed in a heap on the floor clutching at your throat. He turned too, chuckling at your pain before turning back to Buffy. Jason and Buffy traded blows. A ferocious fight broke out. He was no longer paying any attention to you as you looked close to collapse. He would come back and finish you off once he got rid of the Slayer, he decided.

But what he didn’t realise was you had been over-acting. Sitting for longer than you needed. The adrenaline was coursing through you. Telling you to fight. To defend your friend. You got to your feet, the scythe in your hand as you swung with all of the strength you had left in your body. The figure that had been the stuff of Sunnydale nightmares, rivalling that of Freddy Kreuger’s, was now sinking to the floor.

The wound was deep. Your hands shook, they were covered in blood. A killer’s blood. Buffy took the scythe from your hands and stabbed into him once more, ensuring his breathing slowed. Her breathing was shaky, but it had to be done. You reminded each other over and over.

So, you and Buffy had managed to kill him. Shouldn’t you feel more pleased? You couldn’t help the sinking feeling that the citizens of Sunnydale may have rejoiced no matter the outcome of the fight you just had. You both stared over the body as the touching tributes continued over the speakers, his body now laying unmoving. Red liquid bleeding into the grass.

You waited. Both of you well aware that the killer usually came back for one last scare. But he never did. You checked his pulse and nodded at Buffy. He was mortal after all.

You both stared despondently at each other, now standing over the bloodied corpse. You had made it out. You were free to live your lives. Maybe you should celebrate or congratulate the other. But neither of you wanted to do that. Neither of you could possibly open your mouths to speak of what you had been through the past month. You just felt hollow.

You wiped your brow, noticing there was a thick crust of blood there that you tried to rub off. Buffy took her jacket off and placed it over the body, it was stained with blood now anyway so she wouldn’t need it.

She took your hand and you walked over the grassy field, the sun was setting and a strange orange hue surrounded you. Your world still in flames despite the threat being gone. But you knew it would never be truly over. This feeling inside. You walked across the grass as people continued to speak fondly of Principal Flutie, his nephew lying dead behind the scenes. You stuck out instantly and people looked over to see you both just silently clasping hands, gripping each other as tight as possible. They watched you walk into the distance, the sun setting as you eventually walked out of sight.

You had survived.

Meanwhile, in Sunnydale General, someone’s eyes snapped open. A woman. A slayer. Her dark hair splayed on the pillow behind her, white skin making her look like a corpse. She stared at the ceiling, ripping the IV from her hand.

Her eyes wild. Her heart pounding. Her head thinking of only one thing…

Revenge.

[jincherie]

intermission • i | moonface

• ☽ — pairing: bts x reader • ☽ — genre: crack, fluff, angst, college/uni au • ☽ — words: 3.7k • ☽ — rating: sfw • ☽ — warnings: oc feels regret and gets her first taste of murderous urges • ☽ — notes: this isn’t a full fledged chapter! this is more like.... a little dabble of backstory. in between each chapter, there will be one of these intermissions. they give a little extra info and context not included in each chapter... i hope u enjoy!

— posted; 11.05.2019

When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

— • masterlist | prev | intermission i | next • —

[first year, semester one]

Coffee. Waffle. Bathroom stop. 10AM Lecture. Food. Class. Food. Booze? No, no booze.

That’s today’s agenda, and to be perfectly honest despite your brief moment of temptation, you’re pretty impressed with how far you’ve gotten into your first semester without turning to alcohol to cope. You’ve remained strong so far, but now as finals are right around the corner and you suddenly find yourself drowning in assessment, it’s getting harder and harder to resist the siren song of the conveniently bottled happy juice.

Smacking a hand to your cheek to snap yourself out of the thought before you start longing for it for real, you ignore the resulting sting and continue your trek into campus. You’re spectacularly early this morning, and while you’d like to take credit and say it was because you’re a morning bird who is on top of her life, the slightly less attractive and kind of sad truth is that you stayed up most of the night completing an assessment and only slept for one or two hours. Well… perhaps closer to one, two is a bit generous. You’re but one woman.

To be honest, the assessment piece you’d stayed up to finish isn’t even due for a few more days—you really wanted to put your all into it though, and you were actually thinking of going the extra mile and adding a cover page. You have a plethora of ideas for it but, regrettably, don’t have the graphic design skills to make it happen, so it seems it’s going to remain just a thought for now.

It’s as you plod into the section of your campus that you like to call your own little square of heaven, that fate decides to slap you in the face with an answer to your unspoken inquiries—quite literally.

You don’t get two steps past the corner of the first building in the food court before your face is suddenly meeting cold glass, the door pane making painful contact with your nose and mushing it so hard against your face you could almost smell the peach fuzz above your top lip.

“OW! MOTHERFUCK!” it’s a primal scream of pain that escapes you, your legs just barely saving your from falling right on your ass. Your eyes tear up from the sharp pain that throbs through your entire face, and when you attempt to crack your eyes open to find the culprit the area is barren and they are shamelessly long gone. So much for being even a little remorseful.

Sniffling and touching beneath your nose to make sure its snot and not blood dribbling from your nostrils, you wipe it on the back of your hand and spin your head to glare at the offending shop door that had caused you so much pain. It’s a combination of wood and glass, and the large, glossy wall-size windows next to it, as well as the glimpses of mirrors and squishy chairs you catch inside, tell you it belongs to a salon. The glass on the door, unlike the window, is littered with a bunch of flyers and posters and an obnoxiously retro open sign. You squint, momentarily distracted from your anger by a pretty A5 page of soft purple with flowers curling along the bottom right corner (astilbe, cornflowers and pink carmellias are what you manage to pick out— and that's only because you spent the past weekend with Sera trying to decode the bouquet of flowers someone left on her car and they're fresh in your mind) and cursive font across the middle. It seems to be a flyer advertising an art exhibition from one of the photography students that you've heard has managed to make a bit of a name for themselves.

You find yourself entertaining the thought of attending for a brief moment, before your attention is torn to the flyer next to it that glares obnoxious peach orange, black and blue background into your retinas. You blink, taking a second to observe it before realising that it's actually advertising the salon right in front of you. There is an attractive male posing dramatically against a hollywood vanity, wearing a princely outfit that has ribbons and tassels and probably isn't all that practical for hairdressing but damn is it something that he looks good in. There's some sappy bullshit scrawled along the bottom to lure hapless, lovestruck young adults who were probably Team Edward in Twilight, but you're not caught up in that. No, you're caught up in the pure genius of the design, the talent of whoever was behind the creation of this poster. As if by perfect coincidence, your eyes flick to the side just in time to catch sight of the same man on the poster inside the salon, a broom in his hand as he tidied up the fallen hair of whoever smacked you in the face with the salon door.

Making a split-second decision, you rip the poster from the door and burst into the salon, nearly tripping on the welcome mat as you do so. The male doesn't even flinch or jerk in surprise at your abrupt entrance— on the contrary, he finishes his sweeping motion and slowly straightens, spinning around with such grace and flair that you realise immediately he must be a theatre student.

"Oh, hello," he greets with the most charming smile you've ever seen.Your heart might have skipped a beat if you didn't by chance glimpse down and catch his toes wriggling at you in greeting from his slides. What the fuck. "You must be my ten o'clock. Come right in, and do hurry. As you can see we're very busy."

Your eyes flick to the rest of the room — there is no one, he is the only other person in the entire establishment — and then to the reception beside you, where the schedule book sits open and desolate— the entire day is saddeningly barren, with not a single time slot filled in that you can see. Brows raised, you turn back to the male. He knows you have found him out, yet he is unwavering in his act. Well, you're not going to break first.

"I'm here for this," you say, slapping the poster down on the counter. The male peers over with raised brows and puckered lips, making a face of realisation once he sees what you've procured for his viewing pleasure. "I need someone good at graphic design— did you make this?"

Perhaps, you think upon seeing the peculiar gleam his eyes adopt, you have made a mistake in entering this salon.

"I can help you out," he says, cocking his hip and leaning on the broom. He lifts his hand to examine his nails. "...For a price."

You don't even dwell on the fact he didn't exactly answer your question, and squint at him in suspicion. "I'm poor. The most you'll get out of me is three dollars and two food vouchers for the sushi place next to the salad bar."

"Food vouchers?" the male breaks character at the mention of food, eyes widening before he catches himself and clears his throat. "Fear not, little gumdrop, I don't want money from you. No, I want your hair."

"My hair," your tone is flat and you feel a bit like the second you stepped foot in this store you also set foot in another realm.

"Yes," he beams, striding forward and extending his hand with all the flair of a female pop idol dance move to grasp a strand that has come loose from where it was pinned. "Your ends... they pain me, they're a cry for help and I'm nothing if not a benevolent god aiding my creations in need. Well, I say ends, but..."

His eyes sweep over the mop atop your head and he inhales through his teeth. "Yeah, we're gonna have to make some sacrifices. But fear not! I'm very good at sacrificing! There's not a customer that leaves this salon that I'm not satisfied with!"

Something about that strikes you as off— isn't it meant to be the customer satisfaction that matters most? Even so, you find yourself considering his proposition like a fool. It's true, your ends are in a tragic state— you've been so busy with everything else in your life that your hair has, admittedly, suffered for it. Now that he's mentioned it, you know you're not going to be able to stop thinking about it, and all he's asking is a haircut in exchange for the graphic design service you're also in need of? Technically, he's doing you two favours.

You ignore the voice in your head that tells you not to trust this too-attractive, slide-wearing hairdresser, and give him a narrow-eyed look. "I let you cut my hair, and you'll offer your graphic design services?"

The male nods distractedly, already discarding his broom and taking you by the elbow to guide you further inside. "Yes, yes, I'll help you with what you need. Now, come sit over here! This shouldn't take too long at all, I already have an idea for what I want."

You send him a dubious look at his wording, wondering once more whether it should be what you want that matters more, but decide since you're essentially getting this for free in the money sense, you'll sit and be quiet. He points you to a chair and you plop down, barely having a second to orient yourself before he's snapping an apron over you and slipping a towel underneath.

The male slaps his hands together, zipping around behind you and wheeling a cart over. "Alright, my name is Seokjin and I'll be your hairdresser today! Sit back, relax, and I'll bring you up from your negative rating status in no time!"

It's hard to ignore the urge to punch him that arises at his words, but ultimately you manage. To pass the time while he goes to work — and also because you don't like watching hairdressers work in the mirror since it often ends in accidental eye contact — you pull one of your textbooks from your bag and begin to catch up on some readings you haven't been able to get through yet. Despite your reservations, you find yourself relaxing easier than anticipated as you read, enjoying the soft brushing and tugging of your hair. He has gentle hands, you note, but still don't bother to look up and verify. You're content to go off of sensations for now.

Unfortunately, it seems you're a bit of a fool, and this is just one mistake of the many you've unknowingly made today.

He mostly hums to the odd tune, but once he does attempt to make conversation with you. "So, Miss Dead Ends, the time has come for me to ask the most important question that can arise in any conversation. Where does your allegiance lie?"

You freeze where you're reading, squinting at the page but not bothering to look up. "What?"

You hear him huff, as though he can't believe you didn't give him the answer he wanted straight away. "I mean, who is your campus ship. Are you team Jihope, or team Namseok?"

For a moment, you sit there reeling. It was like he just asked you something in another language— you have no idea what the fuck he just said. Unsure what to do but panicking because you know he expects an answer, you pick at random one of the two options and throw it out there. "Uh, Namseok?"

Seokjin's movements in your hair still, several beats of silence passing before he eases into motion once more. "I see," is all he says, and from that point on he doesn't attempt conversation again. You feel like you've made a blunder of sorts, but also can't bring yourself to care. It's his fault for being so hard to understand, you suppose.

You sit through each phase of the haircut process, letting him comb, snip, spray and blow dry to his heart’s content. When he eventually drops the hair dryer back into the cart and claps his hands, you finally allow yourself to look up into the mirror. You freeze.

"Ta-da!" Seokjin the hairdresser is clearly more than overjoyed at the results of his hard work and toil. You barely register his voice through your shock. "Thoughts? I mean, I know it's the perfect funky little 'do for your funky little self, but I'm not the type to withhold praise from myself, you know? Let me hear it."

"It's..." you squint at your reflection, hoping that it might have just been your eyes playing tricks on you for what you see looking back. "It's..."

Seokjin waits eagerly in anticipation like a puppy awaiting a treat after performing a trick, beaming at you in the reflection. You balk, feeling your soul leave your body for a moment before it suddenly slams back to earth and you regain the ability to speak.

"It's hideous?"

The male is absolutely unphased and even has the audacity— the audacity— to grin and reach out and pat the hair he's massacred atop your head.

"Actually, my sweet little padawan, it's high fashion." He sniffs, a sympathetic simper curling his plump lips. "But since I know you're one of those... poor folk, I'll let it slide this time."

You sputter, eyes whipping over each detail they can and making you more and more horrified at each new one that brings itself to your attention. The sharp angles, the texture, the layers? You have no idea how he got your hair to behave this way with only a comb and a hairdryer but you're terrified its permanent. You've never been so affronted at the results of a haircut before and you're quick to let him know.

"This is the ugliest haircut I've ever had in my life!"

Still remarkably unbothered by your displeasure, the male hums. "All high fashion looks ugly when you look at it with poor people eyes—here, try on my slides. Gucci should help get you in the zone."

You just about blow your top, unsure whether you're about to scream or cry but accepting it’s probably going to be both. He's really about to step out of his slides to let you try them on when you stand from the seat, ripping the apron from your body.

"I'm not paying for this!" you cry, indignant. The male merely blinks at you.

"Correct. I believe this was the payment, wasn't it?"

You falter for a moment, having forgotten that you'd literally let him do this and signed away your reputation and self esteem without any prior knowledge of whether he was actually a good hairdresser or not. Alright, you're a fool, but at this point that's in the past.

"Alright— I'm going to kill you, but first you're going to do what you promised and help me with that graphic design thing I need or so help me Zeus I will sniff you out like a bloodhound and tie you down to give you a rat's tail in front of a crowd in the quad with your own scissors."

You've stomped over to the damn poster that brought you in here in the first place, and turn only at the sound of his voice.

"Oh, a tsundere? What is it about you tsunderes that you're all drawn to me, huh? I'm collecting you like pokemon at this rate. Oh well, lucky for you I like that sort of thing. Sounds like a date— will you be using rope or leather?"

On second thought, you don't need your cover page that badly. You're going to kill him now instead.

x     x     x     x     x     x     x

Unfortunately for you and the repressed anger that resulted from that whole event, the tall male had been saved from the full brunt of your wrath by someone actually walking in for a haircut. They did a double-take at the sight of you, clearly questioning their choice of salon, but Seokjin managed to swoop in and save his reputation while dragging yours through the mud in the very same breath— which, you hate to admit, takes talent.

"Wack, right?" he'd said to the confused male, holding a hand up to hide his mouth like it would remove your ability to hear what he was saying. "She came in wanting that, and I couldn't refuse; in this salon, we focus on what the customer wants, after all."

You were going to kill him and you were going to enjoy it.

Needless to say, you couldn't have a witness, and the rat bastard knew it too because he used it to his advantage. He whipped up a sharpie from the front desk and scribbled a series of numbers on your hand, telling you to send him what you wanted done. Then he dismissed you with a turn of his back and began guiding his next customer over to the seat next to yours, kissing their ass to kingdom come.

You left, stewing, and made a beeline for the chemist on campus that was the only place you knew that sold hats, even if they’re ridiculously overpriced. You'd rather be bald than walk around with the mess that demon gave you.

You sent him what you wanted done, begrudgingly, because you weren't about to let your suffering be for nothing. But after that, you didn't hear from him and, quite frankly, completely forgot you were even waiting for him to come through with his end of the deal. You blamed the fact that your brain was currently on damage control and trying to repress as much of the memories as possible.

In actuality, it isn’t until the very start of the next year that you even remember he exists.

You’re midway through the morning drama class you elected to take this semester when the doors burst open, a tall figure with dusty pink hair and obnoxiously familiar features striding right in as though this was his home and he’d just returned after a long trip away.  

“Professor Kang!” he bellows, making a beeline right for your very suddenly tired looking teacher. You can barely snap your mouth shut at the ridiculousness of the situation you find yourself in. “I’ve missed you, you’ve been well? I know these months we’ve spent apart have been hard but I’m here now—”

"YOU!" you seethe, unable to contain the word as it bursts forth from your chest, absolutely ready to roll your sleeves up and end his career. The male whips around at your screech.

"Dead Ends Girl!" he cries, looking astounded to see you. His eyes zero in on your head and he seems almost disappointed to see you didn’t keep touching up the humiliating cut he gave you after visiting his salon. “Back to poor people looks, I see.”

Your fingers twitch with the urge to wrap around his throat and you barely contain the urge as it spikes with his next words.

“You must be really obsessed with me huh, tracking me down and following me all the way to my class. You really did sniff me out like a bloodhound!”

“Seokjin,” your professor rubs his face, adjusting the glasses slipping down his nose. “You haven’t taken this class in three whole semesters, you can’t keep coming back here? Why must you continue to torment me.”

Seokjin, evidently having found another poor soul to torture (read: you), doesn’t even acknowledge your poor professor. “So why are you here, huh? If you’re here for an autograph, I regret to inform you that autographs are a Tuesday only event. You’ll have to come back on a Tuesday.”

You’re too angry to even bother telling him that it is a Tuesday, about to tackle him to the ground in front of your whole drama class without a single regret. Well, if there ever was a time and place for theatrics, right?

“You absolute dinkleberry, where’s the graphic design task I was promised in return for letting you butcher my hair?! You were meant to do it in a week! It’s been a year!”

Seokjin has the nerve to appear oblivious. “Graphic design task? Listen lady, the most I’ve ever graphically designed is the banner for my nsfw tumblr account, and even then it kept getting me reported. Cons of having a massive schlong, I guess. But graphic designer? That ain’t me.”

You’re about to burst a blood vessel, the few classmates who were close enough in the beginning to see the whole thing going on continuing to watch avidly from the sidelines. Food isn’t allowed in this room but you bet if it was they’d be shoveling popcorn in their mouths with all the ardent desperation and energy of a horse grazing from their palm.

“You said you were the one that made the poster!” you burst, pointing at him in accusation. “You said you’d help me!”

“No, I think I only said I’d help you— and I did! I brought you from a -2 to a solid 3.5 in good lighting! You should be thanking me!”

“You made me look like Sideshow Bob!” you cry, the urge to kill him stronger than ever.

At this, Seokjin is unable to contain the giggle that tears from his throat, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “And it suited you, so well.”

“ARGH YOU ABSOLUTE—!”

Before you can really release the anger that had a whole year to simmer and build, your professor steps in and tells Seokjin to leave and go to his own class before he starts setting up security measures to zap him the second he enters the door. Affronted but not prepared to call your professor’s bluff, the pink haired male begrudgingly listens and leaves, but not before he stops in the doorway and calls over his shoulder, “I’LL BE BACK! JUST YOU WAIT! YOU’VE NOT SEEN THE LAST OF ME!”

You wish you could say that that was the last time you saw him, but the unfortunate reality is that Seokjin lingers like a bad smell and consistently rocks up to your class to both torment your professor and you in one go in the lessons following. Two birds with one stone for him, you suppose. It becomes an unfortunate routine.

You still haven’t received that damn cover image.

 [please consider supporting us if you enjoy it, and pls let us know what you think! thank u for reading!]

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[phroyd]

This brilliant researcher supports a theory that vindicates important Feminist Thought, but removes some hopeful biological validation of the pre-adolescent Transgender rationale!  And she is totally correct, there IS No Gendered Brain! - Phroyd

You receive an invitation, emblazoned with a question: “A bouncing little ‘he’ or a pretty little ‘she’?” The question is your teaser for the “gender reveal party” to which you are being invited by an expectant mother who, at more than 20 weeks into her pregnancy, knows what you don’t: the sex of her child. After you arrive, explains cognitive neuroscientist Gina Rippon in her riveting new book, The Gendered Brain, the big reveal will be hidden within some novelty item, such as a white iced cake, and will be colour-coded. Cut the cake and you’ll see either blue or pink filling. If it is blue, it is a…

Yes, you’ve guessed it. Whatever its sex, this baby’s future is predetermined by the entrenched belief that males and females do all kinds of things differently, better or worse, because they have different brains.

A neuroscientist explains: the need for ‘empathetic citizens’ - podcast

“Hang on a minute!” chuckles Rippon, who has been interested in the human brain since childhood, “the science has moved on. We’re in the 21st century now!” Her measured delivery is at odds with the image created by her detractors, who decry her as a “neuronazi” and a “grumpy old harridan” with an “equality fetish”. For my part, I was braced for an encounter with an egghead, who would talk at me and over me. Rippon is patient, though there is an urgency in her voice as she explains how vital it is, how life-changing, that we finally unpack – and discard – the sexist stereotypes and binary coding that limit and harm us.

For Rippon, a twin, the effects of stereotyping kicked in early. Her “under-achieving” brother was sent to a boys’ academic Catholic boarding school, aged 11. “It’s difficult to say this. I was clearly academically bright. I was top in the country for the 11+.” This gave her a scholarship to a grammar school. Her parents sent her to a girls’ non-academic Catholic convent instead. The school did not teach science. Pupils were brought up to be nuns or a diplomatic wife or mother. “Psychology,” she points out, “was the nearest I could get to studying the brain. I didn’t have the A levels to do medicine. I had wanted to be a doctor.”

A PhD in physiological psychology and a focus on brain processes and schizophrenia followed. Today, the Essex-born scientist is a professor emeritus of cognitive neuroimaging at Aston University, Birmingham. Her brother is an artist. When she is not in the lab using state-of-the-art brain imaging techniques to study developmental disorders such as autism, she is out in the world, debunking the “pernicious” sex differences myth: the idea that you can “sex” a brain or that there is such a thing as a male brain and a female brain. It is a scientific argument that has gathered momentum, unchallenged, since the 18th century “when people were happy to spout off about what men and women’s brains were like – before you could even look at them. They came up with these nice ideas and metaphors that fitted the status quo and society, and gave rise to different education for men and women.”

Rippon has analysed the data on sex differences in the brain. She admits that she, like many others, initially sought out these differences. But she couldn’t find any beyond the negligible, and other research was also starting to question the very existence of such differences. For example, once any differences in brain size were accounted for, “well-known” sex differences in key structures disappeared. Which is when the penny dropped: perhaps it was time to abandon the age-old search for the differences between brains from men and brains from women. Are there any significant differences based on sex alone? The answer, she says, is no. To suggest otherwise is “neurofoolishness”.

Plasticity is now a scientific given – the brain is moulded from birth onwards until old age

“The idea of the male brain and the female brain suggests that each is a characteristically homogenous thing and that whoever has got a male brain, say, will have the same kind of aptitudes, preferences and personalities as everyone else with that ‘type’ of brain. We now know that is not the case. We are at the point where we need to say, ‘Forget the male and female brain; it’s a distraction, it’s inaccurate.’ It’s possibly harmful, too, because it’s used as a hook to say, well, there’s no point girls doing science because they haven’t got a science brain, or boys shouldn’t be emotional or should want to lead.”

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The next question was, what then is driving the differences in behaviour between girls and boys, men and women? Our “gendered world”, she says, shapes everything, from educational policy and social hierarchies to relationships, self-identity, wellbeing and mental health. If that sounds like a familiar 20th-century social conditioning argument, it is – except that it is now coupled with knowledge of the brain’s plasticity, which we have only been aware of in the past 30 years.

“It is now a scientific given,” says Rippon, “that the brain is moulded from birth onwards and continues to be moulded through to the ‘cognitive cliff’ in old age when our grey cells start disappearing. So out goes the old ‘biology is destiny’ argument: effectively, that you get the brain you are born with – yes, it gets a bit bigger and better connected but you’ve got your developmental endpoint, determined by a biological blueprint unfolding along the way. With brain plasticity, the brain is much more a function of experiences. If you learn a skill your brain will change, and it will carry on changing.” This is shown to be the case in studies of black cab drivers learning the Knowledge, for example. “The brain is waxing and waning much more than we ever realised. So if you haven’t had particular experiences – if as a girl you weren’t given Lego, you don’t have the same spatial training that other people in the world have.

If, on the other hand, you were given those spatial tasks again and again, you would get better at them. “The neural paths change; they become automatic pathways. The task really does become easier.”

Neural plasticity throws the nature/nurture polarity out of the lab window. “Nature is entangled with nature,” says Rippon. Added to this, “being part of a social cooperative group is one of the prime drives of our brain.” The brain is also predictive and forward-thinking in a way we had never previously realised. Like a satnav, it follows rules, is hungry for them. “The brain is a rule scavenger,” explains Rippon, “and it picks up its rules from the outside world. The rules will change how the brain works and how someone behaves.” The upshot of gendered rules? “The ‘gender gap’ becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.”

Rippon regularly talks in schools. She wants girls to have leading scientists as role models, and she wants all children to know that their identity, abilities, achievements and behaviour are not prescribed by their biological sex. “Gender bombardment” makes us think otherwise. Male babies dressed in blue romper suits, female ones in pink is a binary coding that belies a status quo that resists the scientific evidence. “Pinkification”, as Rippon calls it, has to go. Parents don’t always like what they hear.

The brain is a rule scavenger and it picks up its rules from the outside world

“They say, ‘I have a son and a daughter, and they are different.’ And I say, ‘I have two daughters, and they are very different.’ When you talk about male and female identity, people are very wedded to the idea that men and women are different. People like me are not sex-difference deniers,” continues Rippon. “Of course there are sex differences. Anatomically, men and women are different. The brain is a biological organ. Sex is a biological factor. But it is not the sole factor; it intersects with so many variables.”

I ask her for a comparable watershed moment in the history of scientific understanding, in order to gauge the significance of her own. “The idea of the Earth circling around the sun,” she bats back.

Letting go of age-old certainties is frightening, concedes Rippon, who is both optimistic about the future, and fearful for it. “I am concerned about what the 21st century is doing, the way it’s making gender more relevant. We need to look at what we are plunging our children’s brains into.”

Ours may be the age of the self-image, yet we aren’t ready to let the individual self emerge, unfettered by cultural expectations of one’s biological sex. That disconnect, says Rippon, is writ large, for example, in men. “It suggests there is something wrong in their self-image.” The social brain wants to fit in. The satnav recalibrates, according to expectations. “If they are being driven down a route that leads to self-harm or even suicide or violence, what is taking them there?”

On the plus side, our plastic brains are good learners. All we need to do is change the life lessons.

How gender stereotypes led brain science

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Research so far has failed to challenge deep prejudice, says Gina Rippon

Several things went wrong in the early days of sex differences and brain imaging research. With respect to sex differences, there was a frustrating backward focus on historical beliefs in stereotypes (termed “neurosexism” by psychologist Cordelia Fine). Studies were designed based on the go-to list of the “robust” differences between females and males, generated over the centuries, or the data were interpreted in terms of stereotypical female/male characteristics which may not have even been measured in the scanner. If a difference was found, it was much more likely to be published than a finding of no difference, and it would also breathlessly be hailed as an “at last the truth” moment by an enthusiastic media. Finally the evidence that women are hard-wired to be rubbish at map reading and that men can’t multi-task! So the advent of brain imaging at the end of the 20th century did not do much to advance our understanding of alleged links between sex and the brain. Here in the 21st century, are we doing any better?

One major breakthrough in recent years has been the realisation that, even in adulthood, our brains are continually being changed, not just by the education we receive, but also by the jobs we do, the hobbies we have, the sports we play. The brain of a working London taxi driver will be different from that of a trainee and from that of a retired taxi driver; we can track differences among people who play videogames or are learning origami or to play the violin. Supposing these brain-changing experiences are different for different people, or groups of people? If, for example, being male means that you have much greater experience of constructing things or manipulating complex 3D representations (such as playing with Lego), it is very likely that this will be shown in your brain. Brains reflect the lives they have lived, not just the sex of their owners.

Seeing the life-long impressions made on our plastic brains by the experiences and attitudes they encounter makes us realise that we need to take a really close look at what is going on outside our heads as well as inside. We can no longer cast the sex differences debate as nature versus nurture – we need to acknowledge that the relationship between a brain and its world is not a one-way street, but a constant two-way flow of traffic.

Once we acknowledge that our brains are plastic and mouldable, then the power of gender stereotypes becomes evident. If we could follow the brain journey of a baby girl or a baby boy, we could see that right from the moment of birth, or even before, these brains may be set on different roads. Toys, clothes, books, parents, families, teachers, schools, universities, employers, social and cultural norms – and, of course, gender stereotypes – all can signpost different directions for different brains.

Resolving arguments about differences in the brain really matters. Understanding where such differences come from is important for everyone who has a brain and everyone who has a sex or a gender of some kind. Beliefs about sex differences (even if ill-founded) inform stereotypes, which commonly provide just two labels – girl or boy, female or male – which, in turn, historically carry with them huge amounts of “contents assured” information and save us having to judge each individual on their own merits or idiosyncrasies.

With input from exciting breakthroughs in neuroscience, the neat, binary distinctiveness of these labels is being challenged – we are coming to realise that nature is inextricably entangled with nurture. What used to be thought fixed and inevitable is being shown to be plastic and flexible; the powerful biology-changing effects of our physical and our social worlds are being revealed.

The 21st century is not just challenging the old answers – it is challenging the question itself.

An extract from The Gendered Brain by Gina Rippon, published by Vintage on 28 February for £20. To buy a copy for £15 go to guardianbookshop.com

Phroyd

[mymelonerboner]

It’s Pink Season! - Chapter 2 - A JoJo OC Fanfic

(i should preface this by giving this fic some context – this fic took four OCs of four different people (one of them is me!) from a JoJo discord server that i hold especially dear to my heart. i set myself the challenge of taking these characters from wildly different imaginations and trying to piece together a cohesive story where they all interact with each other. to the owners of these OCs, i hope i’ll do them justice. this fic is estimated to last 4/5 chapters, and depending on my free time, maybe i’ll do something like this again with more OCs from other people, who knows :) anyways hope you guys enjoy what i’ve got so far!)

Rémi - belongs to Quality Queen @qualitiddy

Kyra - belongs to Kyrare @kyrare

Claudia - belongs to Sweet Kurage @sweetkurage

Francis Miller - belongs to meee! @mymelonerboner

Chapter 2 Word Count: 2,194

—————————— 

*     *     *     CHAPTER 2     *     *     *

"LA VACHE! SHUT UP! I'M TRYING!" 

Rémi swung the wheel hard to the right, but screeches and smoke gave away the fact that it wasn't going to be quite enough. Kyra had to act fast. She gritted her teeth in frustration as she braced herself for an undoubtedly painful experience.

"STEEL PANTHER!"

From her torso, the upper body of a feline figure emerged. Dark metallic silver glinted with ferocious animosity against a panther-like physique as the figure stretched its metal wings out, letting out a guttural hiss. Kyra's stand pressed one paw against the dashboard of the sedan, before phasing another paw through the floor of the car, contacting the speeding asphalt of the road below it. Kyra hissed in pain as she felt the sensation of the asphalt scraping against her stand's palm.

In a split second, the sedan burst with a light blueish glow surrounding the whole vehicle, before the pulsating light flowed straight into the point of the ground that the phantom panther was pressing its paw against. With a deafening crack, the asphalt below the sedan broke into pieces, nudging the sedan ever so slightly more to the right, and the sedan seemed to slow down tremendously, as though most of the energy of the hurtling car just vanished, like water spilled from a cup. It was enough to make the sedan brush past the mysterious figure on the motorcycle.

Right after, the sedan slammed head first into something solid behind the motorcycle, denting the bonnet of the car.

"I'M TRY- FUCK! OW!" Rémi shrieked as his head jolted into the SPW-branded Super-Deluxe-High-Comfort™ airbags of the sedan. Kyra sighed in relief. Whatever it was they hit, she managed to divert enough energy in time to make the crash relatively mild.

But what was it that they hit?

Kyra peered through the slightly cracked windshield. There was nothing in front of the car. It was as though the bonnet was dented by some invisible pole.

The trio crawled out of the damaged sedan, each eyeing the mysterious biker with caution. The gleam of the biker's helmet visor masked their face and gave them an aura of anonymous danger. The helmet, from afar, somewhat resembled the look of a brown aviator hat with goggles. Kyra shot a glance at the others. A slight swarm of mist was already forming and circling around Rémi's feet in defensive anticipation. Claudia wore a look of terrified concern.

"What quick wits ya have, Kyra Furyia." An unfamiliar, male voice rasped from the biker. With a quick gesture from the biker, the seemingly empty space in front of the damaged sedan bonnet suddenly appeared to melt and morph into a slightly dented lamppost. "If you were just a split second slower, you fellas would've been totalled by that crash."

"Why thank you, kind gentleman." Kyra shot back in pompous sarcasm. "You know my name. That means you've done your research. I think it's safe to assume you know about our stand powers too."

The biker chuckled. "Not bad, cat lady. You're right, I know all about your stand, Steel Panther, and its energy redirection powers." He lifted a gloved finger towards Rémi. "I also know about you, Rémi Martin, and your copying ability. However…" The biker slowly cocked his head towards Claudia. "This girl… don't think I've seen her before. She a stand user?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." Rémi spat. "I'll tell you this much, helmet - you're not very good at hiding your powers. I've already figured out how your stand works."

Kyra lifted a brow. Already?

"Kyra, look." Rémi pointed at a green-themed restaurant just a few meters away. "The invisibility, the unfamiliar surroundings… there must be only one explanation." Kyra peered at the restaurant and read the large, white block letters right above its entrance.

Five Guys!

"You're right, Rémi!" Kyra gasped. "I've never seen a green Five Guys in my life. Wow, this was way easier than I thought." Kyra smirked as she lifted a metal-clawed finger towards the biker. "Good sir, your stand ability… is to change the colour of objects, isn't it?"

The biker snorted. "Congratu-fucking-lations, you guys have eyes." With a grandiose wave of the hand, he gestured to the all the wrongly-coloured walls, windows and pavements surrounding the trio. 

"Isn't it funny how much we people depend on colour? When you see a car drive past you, your first thought is never gonna be 'Oh, that was a flat-topped car', or 'Oh, that was a Volkswagen'. More likely, you're gonna go 'Oh, that was a blue car'. Same thing applies for many things. Animals, buildings, walls… it's the first way you recognise something. Mess with colour a little and suddenly everything looks foreign. It's evolution, y'see. Colour has been the warning system for predators and prey since the dawn of eyeballs. It tells you what's food, what's poison, what's danger, what's safety. Colour is everywhere."

In a seamless motion, a figure emerged from behind the biker. Humanoid in appearance, but coloured head to toe in a brilliant pink hue, skin as smooth as rubber with vastly contrasting, bizarre patterns strewn across its body in random spots like lazy patchwork, all made with different hues of pink, purple and magenta. It donned what looked like the apron of a painter, and where there should be forearms, instead there were what looked like two paintball guns attached directly at the elbows.

"My name is Francis Miller, and my stand, Pink Season, can control the colour of any object it shoots!" 

Kyra couldn't hold back an impudent snort. "Colour. Colour. Well gee fuckin' golly, I'm *dye*ing to know how dangerous that's gonna be." She cackled at her joke. "Whatcha' gonna do, paint me to death? Mulberry sunburst my ass into- OW FUCK!"

With lightning speed reaction time, Kyra used a metal claw to slice through a paintball that was hurtling right into her abdomen at mach speed. The capsule split into two, splattering a dark blue hue against her torso, leftover shell debris scraping her green sweater and leaving minor tears. 

"...Well, that was huemiliating." Kyra smirked through her panting.

"This is bad! That stand has long-range capabilities." Rémi gritted his teeth. "Claudia, stick close. Those paintballs look dangerous at that speed."

"Hey prick, you better turn this shit on my sweater back to green right now!" Kyra hissed as she picked up a discarded beer can on the ground with one hand and pressed her other hand, shielded with her armour-like paw-glove, against a nearby lamppost. The lamppost flickered on and off momentarily, emitting a yellowish glow from its steel base which flowed into the beer can. Blue sparks began to fly out of its aluminium skin. With the proficiency of a pitcher, she flung the charged beer can straight towards the biker. The biker didn't move a muscle, simply silently watching as the beer can sped closer towards him.

Only for the can to narrowly missed the biker's visor by an inch. It tumbled against the ground behind him, letting out a loud electrical discharge as it contacted a manhole cover.

Wha… That was impossible. Kyra never missed a target. Countless years of intensive training assured her of that. She took everything into account, wind velocity, wrist posture, amount of centrifugal spin…

Francis burst into an obnoxiously raspy, wheezing laugh. "What magic some simple contouring and shading can do! I coloured the walls and road in between us to look like I was just a bit further from you than I actually was. I know your modus operandi, Kyra! I knew you would try that move!"

Optical illusions!? Shit! This is bad. 

Francis was still wheezing and hacking from his half-laugh-half-choking. "You had the fucking balls to underestimate me. But now I know somethin', Kyra. You may have the sharp senses of a cat, but your eyes are still human. You're weak to my power! PINK SEASON!" And with a wild gesture, both the biker and his stand slowly began to melt into thin air, splotches of nothingness spreading like an oil spill across their whole bodies. In a matter of seconds, they both completely vanished. In alarm, Kyra backed up to where Rémi and Claudia were huddled, eyes peeled on the surroundings for the invisible biker.

"Rémi! Look out!" Claudia exclaimed. Rémi's eyes widened, bracing himself for an attack. He drew a breath, preparing his spiritual energy.

"IMITATION OF LIFE!"

And with that cry, light greyish wisps of mist gushed out from Rémi's feet, swirling around in front of him and taking on a vaguely humanoid shape. At where its "head" should be, two large, beady, solid red eyes flitted open, glowing with a brilliant ruby hue. This misty form lightly planted a "palm" against the asphalt road with a feather's touch, and immediately, the coarse, hardened, blackened texture of the asphalt spread up the misty shape's "arm" and across its "chest", eventually encapsulating its entire "body". Upon completion of this transformation, the now hardened figure disassembled itself into a cloud of rocky particles, swarming around the body of Rémi, before settling against his skin and body to form an asphalt suit of armour, complete with a dark-grey-tinged translucent facemask that still displayed his face well enough.

Split seconds after this asphalt armour settled, Rémi was immediately hit across the left check with a speeding paintball, splattering a vibrant green colour against his asphalt exterior, starkly contrasting its dull blackish look. The force of the paintball was enough to make Rémi's head jerk to the side in a dizzying way.

"Woah! You alright kid?" Kyra exclaimed.

"I'm fine! I activated my stand in time." Rémi cracked his neck to soothe the pain of the concussion. "More importantly, that shot revealed his location! I know where to attack now!" With a roar, Rémi darted into the direction the paintball came from.

"Wait, no! Slow down!" Claudia called out to him.

Suddenly, Rémi dropped down through the seemingly solid ground with a surprised shriek. In instinctive panic, he managed to catch a grip on the edge of the "hole" with his asphalt fingers.

"Rémi!" Both Kyra and Claudia screamed after him.

A raspy voice from the thin air broke into an ugly chortle. "I removed that manhole's cover in advance and coloured its interior to match the road. I knew you two had close-range type stands. One of you guys were gonna try to bumrush me, so I just positioned myself in front of that hole. You think I'd be some kinda dumbass to just give away my position like that?"

With some effort, Rémi pulled himself out of the manhole and hurried back to the group, eyes darting about wildly as he tried to figure out where Francis was going to strike next. Kyra narrowed her eyes at him, then at Claudia. It was Claudia she was worried about the most. Her defensive capabilities were practically null. There was only one reason Francis still hadn’t targeted her yet, and it was because he still didn’t know what she could do. 

Kyra shifted her focus to Francis, or wherever she was wildy guessing he was going to be. He was cunning. He was prepared. He even had traces of tar on his clothes to mask his scent against the road. Kyra bit her lip in frustration, admitting in a pit of her heart that Francis was right, and she had underestimated him. It wasn’t just a matter of controlling colours, it was a matter of controlling perception. To not even know whether you can trust your own eyes… Is there any way to defeat such a stand user? Any way to even land a blow on this bastard, if you can’t even tell where he’s-

“Rémi! Two meters to your left, eight o’ clock!” Claudia suddenly yelled, pointing to an empty space next to Rémi. Kyra widened her eyes. Dia, how the fuck!?

Rémi wasted no time. Without missing a heartbeat, he leaped to where Claudia had directed and with a cry, slammed an asphalt fist straight into the empty space. A loud, satisfying thud resonated as Francis flew backwards from the rocky impact straight into his visor, shards of fortified glass, plastic and multicoloured dye mixed with blood spurting into the air as his camouflage wore off. Kyra let out a yelp of triumph mixed with confusion as she watched the biker and his stand tumble backwards against the road.

But it was far from over. The biker shuddered, and slowly but surely propped himself up. Through one cracked lens of the helmet visor, he eyed the young Spanish girl with a look of murderous intent.

“Y...you saw through it. You, girl… Claudia, was it? You saw through my optical illusions…” Francis hacked out a blob of spit and blood against the road. “I was wondering how you kept warning your friends of my moves. You… you are a stand user after all.” His cold gaze trailed from Claudia to her surroundings, the buildings, the road, the sky.

And in his visible eye, there was a gleam of realisation, and then triumphant satisfaction.

*     *     *     END OF CHAPTER 2     *     *     *

[randombtsprincessa]

Absinthe || 3

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Chapters:  01  02

Warning: Dubious Consent

A full week passed since my return to my hometown. There was zero change as to how my life used to be when I used to be at home. My time was split between studying and hanging out with Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. I was closely watched by Jin and Namjoon and try as I may they never did talk a lot about them. After a while, both Jimin and I gave up, leaving my bodyguards to their mysterious auras.

The classes soon became something of a drag only undergoing a minor change since the arrival of Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi, names I’d caught when a gaggle of giggling girls had been gossiping about them.

True to my suspicions, they were much older, somewhere in mid twenties compared to the scattering of late teen to early twenties of elite who attended the finishing school before they could inherit their respective companies from their fathers or were married off to other heirs. They were rich, they had to be, judging from their carriage and their bearing but I had never heard of any Min or Jung families in the city.

They were intriguing, I had to admit. Always standing apart - murmuring among them; while people stared at them, including me. Of course, the stranger thing was that the younger one, Hoseok seemed to always have an eye out for me. He would look up when I would be looking at them, a smirk playing around his lips which would widen the moment I dropped my gaze and scurried off.

Now I was no stranger to male attention. I wasn’t ugly per say and I wasn’t dumb but I had had enough experience with men who only wanted a share of my allowance or wanted to get me engaged to them so that my father’s business became theirs. I was always warned away from them and rightly so. I just couldn’t place those two in one of those categories but one thing was certain.

They were bad news and I was to stay away from those.

Yoongi griped about the stuffy uniform again and Hoseok leant a shoulder against the metal lockers, his eyes cast upwards.

“Shut up, will you?” he shot finally at the older man to only have his glare darken at his friend. “Who do you think you’re talking to? Have some respect for the man who keeps your ungrateful ass alive.” He spat back.

“I’m not so sure about that. You might just kill me one of these days just from how much you complain bro.”

It was Yoongi’s turn to roll his eyes. They both knew if Yoongi wanted Hoseok dead, he would already be six feet under. The older man had a cold stare that could unnerve a man twice his size but they all knew just how proficient Min Yoongi really was. Hoseok was lucky he had Yoongi for his handler.

“The girl’s staring…again.” Yoongi grunted and Hoseok looked up quickly, schooling his features to mirror those of the classic fuck boy. That was the most attractive trope going about, wasn’t it? He had to look alluring and yet edgy. He had to draw her in. Sadly, unlike the girls who were prattling and giggling over the two men in corners, Y/N Y/L/N simply turned her eyes down and hurried away, books pressed tightly to her chest.

Yoongi clicked his tongue in disappointment.

“I feel like you’re losing your touch.” He said.

“I am not.” Hoseok snapped, glaring after the shy girl who’d vanished through the double doors before straightening himself up. “Take the car and go. I’ll see you later.” He said and walked off; using his long legs to catch up with the girl he was supposed to win over in a month.

I rushed towards the school gates to wait to see if the car had arrived or not. Jin or Namjoon had taken to drop me off and pick me up, sometimes together; sometimes in shifts but today I’d hurried out earlier just to avoid the cocky stare of Hoseok.

It was too late to go back inside anyway.

I sighed, running my fingers through my hair.

“Need a ride?”

I stiffened, turning to look at the said cocky man as he loomed near me, his height easily towering over me. “No, thank you,” I said, curtly, albeit politely and turned to the front again.

“What are you waiting for then?” he slipped his hands into his pockets, a wolfish grin playing on his lips. I raised my eyebrows at him. “What’s it to you what I’m waiting for? I could be waiting for the Ancient Chinese Civilization to rise again and it wouldn’t be your business.” I said.

It was his turn to raise his eyebrows. “Is that really what you’re waiting for?” he asked. “If you are then I should warn you, those weren’t particularly pleasant times,” he said.

“I know,” I said shortly.

The boy next to me shuffled uncomfortably but didn’t move away. He murmured something under his breath. “What did you say?” I asked.

He was silent for a bit before smirking down at me. “You’re different than what I thought you would be. It’s a pleasant change. I will have to remember that.” He said. I gazed at him steadily until his eyes flickered to the gate where on proper time, the car slid in.

“I’ll see you later, Princess.” He said, lowly, his gaze not moving as Jin stepped out, his eyes looking around the school grounds with a practiced eye. He stiffened in his spot before chuckling, “I see…I will definitely see you around, Princess.” He backed away before turning around and hurriedly moving away.

I shivered as I walked quickly to Jin. Hoseok’s voice had been thick with implication, deep and dangerous. I could feel goose bumps rise along my skin at the promise in it.

The apartment that had been given to Yoongi and Hoseok under the strict and watchful eye of the Master was large for lack of a better word, big enough to accommodate both the men who needed meters away from each other even though they considered each other brothers. While it was lavish it was still cozy, something Yoongi preferred. He might be outwardly cold, yet there was no fault in liking warmth in the places he lived in.

He undoubtedly preferred it when he was alone, when his partner wasn’t around. He could take a breather and enjoy his warm beverages, maybe watch a little thrash TV…

He was about to switch on the TV when the door opened, revealing the very man Yoongi was taking a reprieve from. Something about the clench of his jaw, the furrow of his brow and frowning eyes made him stand up, ready to take on any enemies.

“What happened?” he asked sharply.

If something had happened to expose them, they needed to bolt quickly, leave no clues. The Master would need to be notified and a clearing crew would need to take care of any trails they had left behind. New prospects would need to be offered to the clients…there would be a lot of shit to handle.

“Settle down, we’re fine.” Hoseok said quickly, recognizing the fight or flight in his partner’s voice.

Yoongi remained standing, watching as he slowly removed his jacket, neatly hanging it up then patting his back pockets, lips pulled into his mouth as he looked around the apartment. “Is that caramel I smell?” he asked suddenly.

Yoongi’s eyes flickered but didn’t drop as he shrugged, sitting back down. “A man can have his poisons,” he replied.

“Yes, but caramel…? If you want, there’s a bottle of Bourbon in the fridge.” He said.

Yoongi remained silent, sipping the warm drink delicately, letting out a relieved sigh to taunt Hoseok as he rolled his eyes and went to get himself a glass of the brown liquid. “We need to talk.” He said from the kitchen as Yoongi sighed, already wishing he was asleep.

Jimin was sprawled on my bed as I flung out old clothes that I couldn’t wear here now that I was out of Paris. “Jeez, how much do you own woman?” he groaned when a blue top landed on his face.

“Exactly, I need more space, I need to de-clutter. Your mom said I could throw stuff out and she’d donate them for me,” I said. “As long as she doesn’t make me wear them,” Jimin sat up, picking the top off his face before stretching it out in front of his face. “You can’t wear this here?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“It’s Prada!” he gasped. “Yeah, but the color was definitely more French than…here,” I spun on my heel to emphasize my point and he groaned tossing the top to the pile of discards on the floor as he dropped back down.

“Hmm,” I didn’t reply to his protests until he spoke again.

“Did you talk to your dad?” he asked.

“Not yet, if he can take some time out of his oh so busy schedule maybe he’ll pay his daughter some attention since he brought me back here in the first place.” I said, unable to help feeling a bit bitter.

He had been adamant about bringing me back, almost bordering on coming over and dragging me back himself but now that I was here, he seemed like he could care less. I wasn’t hurt or anything. This wouldn’t be the first or the last time he had neglected his family for his expansive business but he could be a bit more receptive…maybe even say a hello when he gets back home, when he does that is.

“Why do you ask?” I asked.

“I heard Mom and Dad talking. Your dad has a reason to bring you back, Y/N.” he said.

“Which is…?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t stick around to hear. Maybe he’s going to marry you off.” He said.

I snorted. “I’m too young to be married off, Jimin, don’t be ridiculous.” I said.

“So, you don’t have to be married right off the bat. You could get engaged.” He muttered.

“Hey, relax; I’m sure it has nothing to do with my love life.” I laughed, wrapping my arms around his shoulder, placing my chin on his head as he wrapped his own around my waist. “Don’t baby me, Y/N; I’m not your boyfriend.” He murmured, but I just laughed, pushing off of him and moving back to sort my clothes.

When I entered the class the next day, Hoseok and Yoongi were already in their seats on the other side of my seat. Jungkook and Taehyung, of course, weren’t. I sighed at my luck before slowly moving to my chair and sitting down, feeling the boy’s eyes on me.

“Good morning, Princess.” Hoseok chirped and I distinctly heard Yoongi snort before Hoseok threw him a glare. I turned my head just a little to nod once before looking forward as finally my two moron best friends showed up.

“Hey, sorry we’re late, Mark caught us outside.” Tae said.

“I thought he graduated already.” I grumbled.

“Nope, held back a year,” Jungkook said with relish then leant over my desk. “He’s throwing one of his parties again and he invited us all.” He said.

“A party, this early in the year, that’s a little…” I trailed off.

“Cool and you’re coming. It’s been ages since we got to party with you ever since you left for France.” Taehyung said.

“I’ll need permission from my dad.” I muttered.

Jungkook laughed, “Oh please, your dad never says no to you.” He said. I hummed in reply as they began talking among themselves before I caught Hoseok’s eye. “Can I help you?” I asked irritated at his constant staring.

“Oh you can Princess, in more ways than one but I’ll be nice for now.” He smirked.

I gaped at him before letting out a disgusted sound, twisting my pen in my fingers. “Is that the line you’re going to go with, are you very sure?” I asked snidely.

He shrugged. “What’s wrong with that line? It’s the truth.”

“Yeah well, I wonder how many times it has worked with princesses…Not a lot, hmm.” I smirked when his eyebrows rose, challenging my statement. “Are you sure you want to doubt my pick up skills, princess?” he murmured, his voice dipping.

I glanced once behind to see Jungkook and Taehyung oblivious to our banter and Yoongi obviously uncaring.

“I don’t need to be sure of doubting your skills; I already know it doesn’t work. Why don’t you try them on the trashier, more desperate girls in our year? You know the ones who fawn over you. You could get to them easily.”

I finally turned my head, effectively ending our conversation and Hoseok made an unsatisfied noise, looking forward too.

He was frustrated; I could feel it rolling off of him in waves, making the whole place seem dangerous somehow.

I could feel his heavy presence against my skin for the whole class, as if somehow he had broken out of the student phase and entered something more mature, something darker, bolder.

I balled my fists at the thought. He was something different. No boy could ever have that kind of presence; no one was mature enough to see so intimidating even when they weren’t paying attention to you. But I could still feel his frustration hanging in the air, and it just made me uneasy.

It was literally a relief when I was finally able to get away from everyone at school. Jungkook and Taehyung had made me swear that I would at least talk to my father about the party and I had given in, knowing I wouldn’t be able to say no. They would just contact Jimin and he would personally make sure I got out of the house.

Not that I particularly wanted to go but I knew my father would say yes without even really hearing what I’d asked. If he decided to at least deign to pay attention to me.

So imagine my surprise when he decided to come home earlier and asked to have me join him for dinner in the dining room.

Mrs. Park dressed me up and escorted me to the Dining room before retiring with an assuring smile at me as I sat across my father who was still in his work clothes, only ditching his suit jacket and loosening his tie a little.

“Ah, my love how was your day?” he asked.

“It was fine, dad…how was yours?” I asked, picking up my cutlery.

“Good, good, it was the same as usual, filled with papers and numbers and people.” He threw me one of his awkward smiles and I pursed my lips, nodding appreciatively at his effort.

I was happy that he was trying. This may have been the first time when he was even attempting to create a rapport with me after Mom died. I wasn’t going to be selfish. I knew my father was a good man. He could’ve had taken girlfriends, mistresses after his wife died but he never had, married first and foremost to his empire. His family had taken a backseat always to him but I could try to humor his effort at trying to make it work with me.

However, he was still a businessman, a very astute one at that so any investment he made, be that of time or money, it had to give him back something.

“So, what brought this on?” I asked.

“Can’t a man have dinner with his daughter?” he asked.

“Yes he can, of course he can…so what did bring this on?” I persisted.

Dad chewed on his chicken slowly, watching me closely before he sighed, drinking some water and wiping at his mouth with a napkin. “I have a few things I need to talk to you about but I know that I can’t just order you about. You’re too old to do things just because your father tells you to do them.”

“What’s that you want me to do?” I asked.

“I was thinking we could get to know each other better before I pass everything on to you.” He said slowly.

“Okay,” I halted sighing. He never did open up when I wanted him to so I decided to just ask him about the party.

“There’s a party at the Tuan’s and I was invited for it,” I said. I expected him to just nod and hum but he surprised me by looking up sharply.

“A student party or a business one…? Because I have received no such invitation,”

“A fun one, Dad, no one would invite me for a business party.” I laughed, but he didn’t even smile, just watching me with a frown on his face.

“Well, I’m sorry my dear, but you can’t go.” He said.

I stopped laughing, staring at him in pure shock. “What did you say?” I gasped.

“You’re not going to a party, Y/N.” he said.

“Why not?” I asked curiously.

He huffed. “It’s time you pick up some more mature habits, Y/N. I know what happens at Tuan parties, I have seen the vines that hang about. Now, I haven’t said anything or even asked about Paris but now that you’re back home,”

“Wait, what do you mean about Paris? What do you think I was doing there?” I cut him off.

He fixed me with a steady gaze. “I have no idea but Paris isn’t the most prudent of places either.” He said.

I gaped at him in sheer shock. What had gotten inside him?

“I went there to get over Mom. What are you even trying to imply? I have always been responsible!” I spat.

“Then you would understand why I am not allowing you to go to Mark Tuan’s drug addled and booze ridden party,”

I pushed my chair back, standing up. “Excuse me,” I said harshly and rushed out of the room, my kitten heels clicking on the tiles as I rushed upstairs.

I kicked off my shoes and shot off a text to the boys that I wasn’t coming to the party before flopping down on my bed, my eyes burning but I refused to shed any tears.

He was right. Paris hadn’t been the safest or the most discrete places but I’d kept to myself, going out of my way to not be caught in any scandals and now here he was saying just how much he didn’t trust me.

I heard a tiny knock on my door and looked up from my pillow as Jimin opened the door and looked at me. “Hey, you ok?” he asked. I shrugged and he clicked his tongue in sympathy, moving to sit next to me, wrapping his arms tightly around me so I was lying on his shoulder.

“I heard what happened from the servants. He shouldn’t have said that.” He said, stroking my hair.

I looked up at him in surprise. “The servants?” I asked.

He shrugged. “The cooks love feeding me because of my cheeks. It’s easy to get them to talk when you’re as hot as me, you know. The servants gossip like rats.” He smiled when I giggled, hitting his chest at his cheesiness.

“Thanks for cheering me up,” I said, snuggling back against him.

“The joys of having a live at home best friend,” he said before sitting up. “So, will you go to the party?” he asked.

“Wait, what?” I asked.

“The party at Mark Tuan’s…I’m not surprised that the idiot got held back a year. Always told him to study but oh well, Jungkook told me all about it and if you want, I can take you.” He said.

I considered my options. For one, ok, I really had no plans on going but now that my father had pissed me off, I wanted to go, let out some steam. Besides, these were my home friends, my people; I’d known them all my life. I could go have fun with them.

“Let’s go.” I said.

Jimin sneaked me out the traditional way – straight out the window. He had to hold onto me while I climbed the ledge down, still in my dining dress but it didn’t matter. I just wanted to get out of that house. His car which was always ready to go was parked on the lawn under my window.

Once we were safely down, he motioned me to lie down on the floor of the back seat while he drove out the gates, acting like he was going out by himself. Once we were on the road, I sat up.

“You planned this with Jungkook and Taehyung, didn’t you?” I asked.

I saw him grin in the rearview mirror. “Such a smart girl, how does it feel to rebel for once?” he asked.

“Fucking awesome,” I grinned, sliding to the front.

When we reached the Tuan Mansion, the party was already in full swing. There were people strewn everywhere. Couples were making out in the gardens, kids were smoking on the porch, drunk games that were on the brink of turning sexual were on the roll in the living room and I spied the host himself playing one of those games.

Jimin kept an arm wrapped around my shoulders as we looked for Jungkook and Taehyung.

We found them near the bar, already drinking. Jungkook looked up when he saw us approach. “Hmm, a definite ten out of ten,” he said, grinning, making Jimin hit him in the chest.

“I’m joking, she’s an eleven, happy?” he said.

I wrinkled my nose at him. “I’ll be happy once you sober up and don’t talk about girls like they’re auction products.” I said.

“I have seen you grade men with Kim Jisoo!” Taehyung gasped and Jungkook gave me a look. “What, if boys can do it, girls can do it too!” I spread out my hands and Jimin laughed. “Ok, I’ll go cover for you now. You two,” he barked at the younger boys. “You’d better keep her safe until I come and get you later. If I find any of you being mean to her, I’ll kick your asses myself.” He snapped before placing a gentle kiss on my temple. “You be safe.” He said before disappearing into the crowds as Jungkook handed me a glass.

“Drink up partner, loosen up a little.” He said.

“Well here goes,” I said and tossed the drink back.

It was safe to say I’d loosened up a lot. Taehyung, who had been the designated driver, had put me on a couch, with water to hydrate myself as he kept an eye out for Jungkook who’d vanished outside with a girl.

My head was pounding with that entire sudden alcohol intake and I got up woozily so I could go splash some water on my face. I remembered some parts of Mark’s house from previous visits so I stumbled into the hallways when I felt an arm wrap around my waist.

“Whoa, easy there,”

I slumped into the warm embrace, groaning as the thudding in my head increased and I felt myself being straightened. “Well, Princess; looks like you’re a bit of a lightweight aren’t you?”

Princess…

I blinked, squinting up to look at the man standing in front of me, smirking down at me.

Hoseok…

Great, this just had to be my luck…

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Mark Tuan invited me.” He said, shrugging his graceful shoulders. Oh…well, that ruled out him stalking me, I guess…

“What the hell do you want?” I snapped.

“I’m keeping you off of the floor, Princess. Let’s get some of that snarl out of your voice, shall we?” he muttered, putting me up against the wall, his hands pressed on the sides of my head as he hovered over me.

“You about to puke?” he asked.

I glared at him but shook my head as he narrowed his eyes at me. “I’m wearing expensive shoes and if you throw up on them, you’re paying for new ones.” He warned.

“You’re lucky you’re hot.” I growled.

He looked taken aback for a split second before smirking again. “You think I’m hot?” he asked.

I snorted in a distinctly undignified way as I tried to push past him, “Of course, the entire school thinks you’re hot.” I snapped. Hoseok didn’t budge; instead he pushed me further into the wall. “The entire school isn’t you, Princess.”

I huffed, slumping against the wall again. Why wouldn’t he just leave me alone? I was too tired to fight him off right now. I just heaved in defeat. “What do I have to do to get you to let me go?” I asked.

Hoseok considered his options, his eyes dropping to my mouth for a split second as he licked his own lips. “You could let me kiss you, Princess.” His trademark smirk returned.

I scoffed in disgust. “What are you, a middle school kid? Get away from me, you creep.” I said.

“Don’t be like that; you might just like it,” he leered at me shamelessly before his hands were in my hair, massaging my scalp, his fingers just shy of dipping into my collar.

I stiffened as he slid closer, his chest now against mine and my eyes widened when his narrowed, focusing on my lips. I should’ve said something, I should’ve tried to push at him but I just stood there while he leant in and pressed his lips to mine.

His mouth was warm, the pressure as light as a butterfly’s wings as he nudged them against my skin trying to coax me into submission. I gulped, and he must’ve felt it because he smirked, his mouth turning more confident, parting and his hot breath, free from any stench of alcohol, wafted over mine. He was sober. He knew what he was doing.

I hesitantly reached up to wrap my arms around his neck and kissed back, slowly, testing out the waters.

His hands went to my waist, wasting no time in yanking me towards him, our bodies no flush as he moved his lips expertly, nipping lightly on my bottom lip. Heat coursed through me as he slowly glided his fingers across my hips, reaching towards the hem of my dress, hands sliding under when I felt I remembered where we were and what I was doing with whom.

I pulled away quickly, pushing away from him, staring at him open mouthed as he opened his eyes, blown already. He looked shocked to say the least; maybe no one had ever pushed him away. I untangled myself from him and backed away quickly, rushing out into a daze.

The cold air outside knocked some sense into me but that soon changed into dread when a familiar car swept up at the gate. I watched as Jin stepped out, his suit looking very out of place, the wire around his ear gone as he glared at the passed out kids lying where he’d parked.

I might’ve been defiant but right now I was just grateful. I quickly rushed to him and his eyes caught me at least a few miles away. He moved his eyes over the grounds to check for any threats before looking me over. I came to stand in front of the older man and he just stared at me for a minute.

“Are you ok?” he asked, his voice cold.

I nodded shortly and he opened the back door for me, letting me slide in to see Namjoon’s eyes on me as he looked almost as displeased as Jin. I had no choice but to hang my head as we drove home.

The house was silent when we arrived Home, the lights turned down, no one around as Jin opened the staff entry door with his key. Namjoon quietly slipped away without another word or glance at me as Jin walked me to my room.

He even came in as I went into the bathroom to clean off my makeup.

“The story is that you took a little night time drive. Namjoon and I went with you with the driver. We just got a little late. You will only repeat the story if and only if anybody asks. If not, please, refrain talking about tonight.” He said his voice formal and abrupt. I agreed wholeheartedly.

“How did you know?” I asked.

“I caught Mr. Park sneaking into your room through the window. He had no choice but to sell you out.” Jin said.

“You didn’t tell on him, did you? He was just helping me.” I said, coming out in my pajamas.

Jin was standing at my window, his broad back to me as he stared out. “No, I did not. Seeing as ratting him out means ratting you out which leads to my and Namjoon’s dismissal it would’ve been quite silly.” He said, turning around to look at me. “You were very irresponsible tonight, Y/N.”

I opened my mouth but he continued.

“While I understand the need you must’ve felt, it was still unsafe. Yes, I do hear the gossip, it’s my duty to protect you and gossip is the first and foremost frontier in news. You’d be surprised how many enemies you can flush out if you just listen to your staff. Of course, the people in your household are quite loyal, but they did talk about what your father said to you. Do you realize, you just might’ve proved him right?”

I bit my lip.

“I’ve never done those things; I just wanted to try it,” I shrugged.

“Your father told me to not tell you things for your own protection but I have never believed in leaving my charges in darkness. It just leads to recklessness, like I saw tonight. The reason why your father was refusing you to go to the party was because Mr. Tuan has been suspect in many frauds in your father’s company. He’s going to face inquiry soon. He was just worried he might try to get to you to pressure your father.” Jin told me.

He watched as the news sunk, my eyes glazing over. He nodded stiffly going to exit my room. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he said and shut the door as I sat on my bed, my eyes closing as regret over the entire night washed over me.

I rubbed my lips, trying to remove any remainder of the cocky, arrogant Hoseok from my skin.

However, his previous promise of seeing me around rang in my head. After what happened tonight, I was sure he was going to keep it and the thought of it sent shivers down my back, some of them not from uneasiness.

[penelopelovesalvez]

A Lucky Night- Chapter 14

Here is my multi-chapter pic featuring characters I do not own from Criminal Minds, Alvez x Garcia, in a story of my own creation. It picks up at the end of 13.5.

Warning: Some chapters contain smut. While many do not, the ones that do are definitely 18+, NSFW.

Please feel free to re-blog and review! Please ask for permission before posting on any other platform.

Brigitte returned, and Penelope was soon hustled into a stylist’s chair to have her hair curled and styled and her makeup expertly applied. Luke was shown into the dressing room, where he discarded the robe and got dressed in his slacks. This time however he donned the burgundy button up he had brought. He spent several moments perfecting his hair and applying some aftershave.

About twenty minutes later he emerged from the changing room. Brigitte informed him that Penelope was nearly done having her hair and makeup arranged. Luke popped out of the salon for a few moments, notifying Brigitte that he would return momentarily.

Meanwhile, Penelope was amazed how quickly the stylist had worked. In only a matter of a half hour she had expertly placed large, loose curls throughout Penelope’s hair. She had straightened Penelope’s long side bangs and arranged them perfectly. After inquiring what Penelope would be wearing, she applied a dramatic, dark winged liner and a shimmery gold shadow to her eyelids. She slicked mascara onto Penelope’s’ eyelashes, gluing in small clumps of false eyelashes to fill them in until they were long and luscious. She applied foundation, highlighter and bronzer expertly, setting it all with a professional finishing powder. Last but not least she selected a deep rose matte lipstick. After applying it, she gave the tube to Penelope for reapplications later.

Escorting Penelope out of the chair once the stylist pronounced her perfect, Brigitte led Penelope down to the changing room and unlocked the door. “Mr. Alvez just stepped out and asked me to let you know he will return momentarily. Do you need any assistance getting dressed?” she inquired politely.

“I think I can manage, thank you,” Penelope said, stepping into the room. She closed the door behind her, took a deep breath, and then set about getting dressed. She pulled on the clean lingerie she had brought- the black and fuchsia high-cut panties with garter clips and the matching lace edged plunge-cut bra. She pulled on the black, thigh-high lace-edged stockings, clipping them to the garter clips. She stepped into the glittery heels, bending at the waist and tying the bow at each ankle. She shimmied into the ruffled black mini skirt, pulling it up over her hips. Then she wrapped the corseted, sparkly rose-gold top around her waist, slipping her arm into the cap sleeves and then fastening the clips up the center in front of her. She looked in the mirror, making sure nothing was out of place. Reaching into her bag, she removed the jewelry she had packet. She tucked the rose gold flowered clip into the curls of her hair, pulled on toe rose gold bangle bracelets, and lastly fastened on the large rhinestone necklace that dipped perfectly into her cleavage. She quickly packed the rest of her stuff into the bag, her stomach fluttering with butterflies. “I hope this outfit is a good choice for wherever we are headed,” she whispered softly to herself as she admired herself in the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her skirt over her hips. Carrying only the shrug and the essentials she had shoved into the small black clutch, she crossed to the door that led back to the main salon area.

Penelope stepped out the door, and she heard a chorus of gasps. Brigitte, Kara, the masseuse and her hair stylist were standing in the lobby. She mentally made a note that this was her new salon of choice- everyone had been so kind and caring. She would definitely be returning. Brigitte’s smile beamed, while Kara actually clapped her hands several times. Her hair stylist let out a cat-call whistle, and the kind masseuse merely pronounced her “stunning!” But the one she was hoping to wow wasn’t even standing there. Before she could ask any of them if her prince charming had made a run for it, she heard the tell-tale chime as the salon’s front door opened. In stepped Luke, holding a single red rose. Well, doesn’t he look dashing in that burgundy shirt that might as well be molded to his skin. And she loved when he wore that black leather jacket. Just then Luke looked up and caught sight of her. Penelope watched his jaw literally drop in shock.

“Penelope,” he said, breathlessly. “You look… ravishing,” he practically groaned. In three long strides he had crossed the room. He pulled her tightly to his chest, tipping her head back swiftly and taking her lips with his in a heated kiss. In some corner of her mind not completely overwhelmed by the feel of Luke’s slightly roving hands and plunging tongue, Penelope recognized the sound of someone clapping again. After several moments longer than was at all appropriate, Luke finally pulled back from their kiss. He pressed the rose into her hand, and wound his arm around her waist, keeping her pressed tightly to his side.

“Thank you all so much for a lovely evening,” Luke said, turning to the assembled team. He passed an envelope to Brigitte. “We are so grateful to you, and will gladly refer others to your wonderful establishment. I’m afraid we must be going, we have a reservation to make,” Luke said, leading Penelope out the door to the truck that was now waiting at the curb.

Luke again held open the door and helped her up, his hand roving from her lower back to trail down the curve of her hip and onto her exposed leg. He slipped one finger under the lace edging of the stocking to caress the sensitive skin of her thigh, his eyes impossibly dark. “Woman, you are trying to kill me,” he groaned. Penelope shivered at the touch. She couldn’t even respond; her throat was choked with desire. He closed the door, before he lost control of the desire pumping through his veins. He rounded the truck, stopping for a few moments at the back to draw deep breaths and think of the frigid showers he took while out in the field hunting a fugitive- anything to help slow his heart rate and dampen his arousal just a smidge. Penelope would probably be the death of him, but at least he’d meet his maker with a smile on his face.

Luke finally joined her in the truck. The sun had set while they were inside, and the streetlights were on. He pulled the car onto the street and drove them several blocks. “You hungry, Chica?” he asked, squeezing her hand. “You know,” she responded, “I didn’t realize it before you asked, but yes. I am definitely ready to eat. Is dinner the reservation you mentioned?” she asked. “Indeed, it is,” he replied with a smile.

Just a few moments later, Luke pulled the truck over at the valet stand in front of a brightly lit downtown building. Penelope looked out the window at the elegant building with people streaming in and out the door, and somewhat of a line forming. “THE SALSA ROOM?!” she exclaimed, nearly screaming in exhilaration. “There is no way you got a table here, it takes weeks!” she asserted, smacking him on the thigh playfully. Luke chuckled. “Penelope, have you not yet learned that Luke Alvez, Special Supervisory Agent with the FBI, and former Army Ranger, is not the kind of man to give up at the first sign of difficulty. I am nothing if not persistent, how do you think I won you over?” he uttered in a low, yet teasing voice. Penelope didn’t know if it was his voice or the anticipation of dinner at one of the hottest, hard-to-get-into places in the DC-metro area, but she was now practically shaking.

Luke climbed out of the truck, handing the key to the parking attendant. He opened Penelope’s door for her, his eyes closely following the long lines of her legs as she stepped down from the truck. He wrapped his arm around her, stopping to receive a valet ticket, and led her up the stairs and into the restaurant. Penelope could sure get used to the comforting, arousing feeling of his protective hand at the small of her back.

Penelope could feel the weight of others’ glances on them as Luke led her to the hostess’ desk, his arm still firmly wrapped around her waist. She glanced around surreptitiously, clutching her purse tightly to her waist. Quite a few people, mostly couples, waited around the foyer to be sat, and it seemed all of them were observing her and Luke. Some of them with annoyance, likely people who’d grown tired of waiting and were frustrated for yet another party to compete against in order to be sat.

But others looked at them and seemed to be envious or intrigued. One well-dressed, but slimy looking man looked her up and down like she was a piece of meat. She shivered, ugh. What a pig. An older woman looked at them curiously. Penelope looked down at her ensemble, which was a bit flashy compared to the subtler outfits most of the women wore. For a moment, she wished she’d chosen to wear something a touch less revealing and a touch more elegant. Perhaps the woman wondered why she was so dolled up. Maybe she’s wondering what we’re celebrating. Or if she was a little-known reality show star, lol. And then, there were a few who looked at her next to Luke with disbelief. She could pinpoint one or two women who stared at her with both envy and resentment, and seemed to think it was a waste that such a model of male perfection was here with her.

Thankfully, Penelope was spared further torture as the hostess Luke was speaking with gathered menus and led them to be seated right away. “Mr. Alvez, won’t you and your guest please follow me to the table you reserved?” she asked, turning and leading them into the restaurant. Penelope allowed Luke’s hand to propel her forward but she was shocked, still contemplating how they could have possibly gotten a reservation at such a sought-after restaurant and then been sat without any wait. It was mind boggling.

Luke’s hand tightened on her hip, pressing her rhythmically in an affectionate, comforting gesture. The hostess led them to a lovely table near the center of the restaurant. It was fairly unique however, as it was situated on a small raised platform. One climbed two stairs to reach the small alcove that was partially flanked by large waist-height planters overflowing with lush flowers. A beautiful, wrought iron chandelier holding 12 candles in glass lamps hung above the table. The gleaming mahogany table and curved bench of the secluded booth had an unimpeded view of the dance floor and band, yet were given privacy by the curved planter and cascade of colorful blooms. In the center of the table sat a glass vase holding a riotous arrangement of brightly colored freesia, ranunculus, and camellias. It was probably the single most perfectly situated table in the entire room that invoked thoughts of old world Barcelona fused with a Miami club. It was beautiful, yet tasteful. Romantic, yet trendy and vibrant. She loved it.

Luke helped her up the stairs, just as he had helped her off the curb while out in the field a few weeks ago. He removed her black shrug for her, and waited patiently as she sat down and scooted slightly across the lush suede of the bench. He rounded the table, scooting into the booth from the other side until his hip was pressed into hers. He put his arm around her shoulders, resting it on the backrest. The hostess provided them with menus, smiling as she nodded once. “Your server will be with you promptly, Mr. Alvez. May you and your lovely guest enjoy your evening,” she said, taking her leave.

Penelope’s eyes roamed, taking in the rest of the room. There were tables of course, most of them occupied by groups of two or four, a few with larger parties. At the front of the room, a large platform dominated the center of the space. A variety of instruments were arranged on the stage: a drum kit, several guitars, microphones, a piano and several brass instruments. There was a large, gleaming dance floor that started just before the platform and stretched across the room, ending just several feet from where they sat.

Luke watched her as she took in the room. He briefly allowed his own gaze to take in the ambiance. It was a lovely space, and perfect for what he had planned. Mostly though he enjoyed watching her eyes widen in pleasure as she took in the room. She was so incredibly lovely and he couldn’t believe he had been lucky enough to convince her to give him a chance… to give them a chance. He sighed contentedly.

“So, shall we order some food to share?” he asked her, bringing her attention back to their table. Penelope looked over the menu. It appeared they served Latin-American and Caribbean cuisine, with an emphasis on Puerto Rican food. There weren’t many dishes she recognized but they all seemed amazing from the descriptions. Many appeared to contain meat though. She couldn’t help but think bitterly that Luke probably would enjoy it more if his date shared his love of red meat. “Well, why don’t we each order our own? That way you can enjoy something with meat,” she responded.

Luke placed a hand on her thigh, squeezing reassuringly. “There are plenty of dishes we can both enjoy. And certainly, I can order one or two things with meat. Although, since I met you I’ve been trying to cook with it less and less. Plus, they have a lot of dishes with fish or shrimp. I recall that you eat seafood on occasion,” Luke said.

They returned to looking at the menu, just as their waiter arrived. He was young, probably working his way through college or grad school. He wasn’t much taller than Penelope probably, but he was a good-looking guy. His curly, raven black hair was pulled into a trendy low pony tail, which was a striking contrast to his piercing blue eyes. The rolled-up sleeves of the white button down her wore showed off the tan skin of his muscular arms, revealing the colorful ink of the tattoos he appeared to have in two full sleeves.

“Holá, I’m Paulo,” he said with a perfect accent on the Spanish. “What can I get you to drink this evening?” Luke glanced down at the section of the menu that covered their drink selections. “I’d like a Jack and coke please, extra ice,” he said. “And for you, bella?” the waiter said, flashing Penelope a megawatt smile. When she smiled back the young man had the audacity to wink at her. “I’d like a piña colada if you have them,” she replied. “For you, cariña, we have anything you’d like. I will be back with these en un momento,” he said, turning and heading for the bar.

Penelope watched him leave, then turned to see that Luke was scowling. “What’s wrong?” Penelope asked. “Did he say something insulting in Spanish?” Luke shook his head, still glaring. “Not to you no.” he replied. “Let’s choose what we’d like to order when he returns.” They chose a few items, just in time for a bar-back to bring their drinks.

A few moments later, Paulo returned to take their order. “How does that piña colada taste, princesa?” he inquired, staring down Penelope’s top briefly. Penelope, oblivious to the young man’s leering gaze, assured him it was delicious as she took another sip. “Well, what can I get for y’all to eat?” he asked, his pen poised over the pad in his hand. Luke responded, “We’d like to start with an order of the tostones and the guacamole, then we’d like to share a bowl of the chupe de camarones, the Caribbean salad, and the enchiladas de mariscos. Oh, y una empanada por favor. Y, si podria, deja de coquetear con my novia. Ella es mía,” Luke warned sternly.  

The waiter met Luke’s steely gaze briefly, then nodded grimly and departed. Penelope looked at Luke, puzzled. “Really, Luke. What is going on with you and the waiter?” she asked, befuddled. “Well, Chica, we just had a misunderstanding and I had to set him straight about the fact that you are most certainly taken,” Luke drawled lazily. Penelope’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, don’t tell me you gave that poor boy a hard time just because he gave me compliments! I’m sure he’s just angling for a good tip. You didn’t need to take it seriously and apparently threaten the poor boy. I’m probably nearly twice his age, his flirting is harmless,” Penelope scolded, though not very harshly.

“I don’t care if he’s 18 or 81, he needs to find his own cariña and not be making a cake of himself over a woman who is with someone. He’s supposed to be working,” Luke growled. Penelope continued, “What exactly did you say? He was so stern when he left.” Luke waved his hand, “It was nothing. I didn’t say half what I could have, nothing insulting. I merely told him to quit flirting with my girlfriend and find his own girl, because you’re mine,” Luke said, his voice still low and intense. Penelope looked him in the eyes, her heart thundering in her chest. “You told him… that I’m YOUR GIRL??” she clarified hesitantly. Luke nodded decisively, “Yes, Chica. I’ve been trying to say something to you for months, and I can’t blame you not realizing how I felt… what with me taking my sweet time.” He brought his hand up to cup her jaw, his fingers caressing her cheek. “But I think I’ve been pretty direct, being that we’re on our 5th date in 24 hours. Penelope Grace, eres mía. You’re mine, if you’ll have me,” he whispered.

Penelope couldn’t speak. She couldn’t force her mouth to move, to form words. Luke was looking into her eyes, waiting for an answer and she was frozen. She could see that he was starting to doubt, starting to misinterpret her silence as rejection. But she couldn’t even think words, her head was swimming with the knowledge that this achingly handsome, generous man could want her. She had to do something though, she couldn’t just sit here and let him think she was rejecting him! She did the only thing she could think to do- she placed a hand on his thigh, and the other on his neck and she pulled his face to hers. She kissed him fiercely, pouring every ounce of wonder and surprise, and desire- so much desire- into the movement of her lips and tongue against his. He pushed his lips against hers, his hand caressing her neck. The hand on her face slid into her hair, anchoring her head as he moved his face to change the angle of the kiss, taking control. His other hand snaked around her body to the small of her back. He pulled her closer to him, fitting her against him as closely as possible given their seated positions. What started as Penelope showing Luke how she felt turned into Luke demonstrating just how hungry he was for her and how skillfully he could bring her pleasure.

The kiss lasted several moments, and they only broke apart as the food began to arrive to the table.

[birdiethebibliophile]

{fic} Et Lux Solis Obumbratio (part 1)

Rating:  M (violence, possible character death) Main Relationships:  Cassian/Lucien, Azriel/Cassian Word Count:  1,783

Here on AO3.

Summary:

ACOWAR rewrite. Expect a lot of gayness, worldbuilding fixes, and such.

From the end of my slightly changed ACOMAF:

Nesta slammed into Lucien, grabbing Elain from his arms, and screamed at him as he fell back, “Get off her!” Elain’s feet slipped against the floor, but Nesta gripped her upright, running her hands over Elain’s face, her shoulders, her hair – “Elain, Elain, Elain,” she sobbed. Cassian again stirred – trying to rise, to answer Nesta’s voice as she held my sister and cried her name again and again. He looked up – just managed to raise his head enough – But he was staring over Nesta’s shoulder. At Lucien – whose face he had finally taken in. Dark hazel eyes met one eye of russet and one of metal. Nesta was still weeping, still raging, still inspecting Elain – Lucien’s hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Cassian, “You’re my mate.”

Chapter 1:  Sometimes My Thoughts Are Like Flames

Lucien’s back was hurting again.

No – not his back. It still did hurt at times, sharp phantom pains coupled with a whip’s snap in his ear. This was different. It was above his back – apart from him but not. By this time, he knew what it was.

He’d tried to deny it at first. It was impossible. Impossible. But then he’d woken up in the middle of the night only days after the Hybern fiasco writhing in his sheets, drenched with sweat, teeth clenched against a scream of pain. His chest hurt as well – a strange hurting, like someone had tied a string around his heart and was pulling on it with all their strength, nearly wrenching it from his ribcage.

Lucien had yanked himself from his bed, stumbled to the washroom, and emptied the contents of last night’s dinner into the washbasin. It wasn’t until he’d stopped heaving and was leaning against the bathroom wall, eyes closed against the pain, that he realized what it was.

It was obvious once it had come to him. He’d seen everything that happened in Hybern, after all.

Wings.

At the thought, Lucien had barely been able to lurch back to the basin before retching uncontrollably once more. That male’s – Cassian’s – his mate’s wings had been shredded, and now he was in so much pain that Lucien wanted to tear at his own back just to make it stop.

Lucien could hear his mate’s scream echoing in his ears. It haunted him night and day – a sound of such unbearable pain that when the magic had died down, Lucien had been surprised to find his own body in one piece. The rest of the time in Hybern had been a blur. His heart had been beating in his ears, only dying down when he tried to help Elain.

It was what had knocked him out of his stupor. He’d been frozen, Cassian’s cry ringing in his ears, but he couldn’t stand it – seeing Elain, seeing Feyre’s sister shoved into the Cauldron. He couldn’t even do anything until afterwards. He’d never felt so useless, not since he was forced to watch as Eris, Beron, Caliban, and the others murdered Valeria.

And then the realization, after he picked Elain up and his stomach turned. That was when he realized that what his heart was pounding out was mate, mate, mate, and the twist of his stomach was because he was holding the delicate High Fae woman instead of the bleeding Illyrian across the room. He’d blurted it out, like the fool he was.

When they’d disappeared, Tamlin had glanced at him with such scorn and derision that he’d flinched. Lucien couldn’t blame him. Son of the High Lord of Autumn, mates with a bastard-born Illyrian of the Night Court. It was, Lucien thought bitterly as he slumped over the toilet, perfectly in line with his luck. Yet another man to love and lose – if not physically than emotionally, for Lucien couldn’t imagine anyone who worked for Rhys would so much as touch him. He could see the hate simmering in Feyre’s eyes day in and day out, and he well knew what Rhys thought of him:  a weak, foolish child with a love of pretty things, and a knack for saying things that get him into trouble.

Slowly, Lucien stood up. Stretched. Rubbed his aching head. Attempted to rub the chill from his bare arms. The bathroom was dim, flickering with the wan light of the three candles that had burst into flame as he’d burst through the door. They cast an eerie, flickering glow around the place, catching in Lucien’s gold eye and reflecting onto the ornate wooden mirror, the marble washbasin.

He made his way back into his bedroom, pushing through the heavy brocade tapestry that served as a door between the rooms. On his way to the dark fireplace, he paused, gazing at his door. Part of him – perhaps a foolish part – had hoped that Feyre would hear him from across the hall and appear to ask what was wrong. But he’d heard not a sound from her room, and he couldn’t blame her. Had he not slept through the night while she tossed and turned and heaved her guts up night after night?

Not that he’d have been able to go to her even if he had thought she needed him. That was when Tamlin had slept in her room, in her bed, and Lucien knew perfectly well what the repercussions would be should Tamlin think for even a moment that Lucien was trying to come between them. He’d lived those repercussions when Feyre had first lived with them – could still hear the snarl in Tamlin’s voice as he told Lucien, in no uncertain terms, that he’d do whatever he needed to do to break the curse.

Lucien shivered again. He grabbed his discarded shirt from a nearby chair and pulled it over his head, wincing as it rubbed against the scars on his back, then knelt by the fire. He piled a few logs onto the long-dead coals, then passed a hand over them, fanning the flame that appeared into life. As he sat back, bathing in the warmth and the light that began to permeate the room, he reflected dismally that it wasn’t only Feyre he was missing. It was Tamlin himself, for one. There’d been a time not long ago when they’d been best friends – as close as brothers. Certainly closer than he was with his blood brothers. But if Tamlin wouldn’t even hold Feyre’s hair back for her when she was sick, Lucien could hardly expect the male to do it for him.

And then there’d been Andras. A relationship more than brotherly. Much more.

Lucien drew his knees to his chest and let his forehead rest on them. Andras had been gone for nigh a year now, and the ache had not diminished. If Andras had been there, he would’ve helped Lucien to the washroom, and made him a cup of peppermint tea to soothe his stomach. He would’ve made Lucien get back in bed and lit incense to the Mother for the healing of Lucien’s wounded soul. Lucien had always scoffed at Andras’ devotion; he’d claimed that the Mother, the eddies of the Cauldron, had never given him anything but pain and loss.

They gave you me, didn’t they? Andras had said.

Yes, Lucien thought bitterly, they did. And then they took you away with nothing but an ash arrow and human hatred.

He hadn’t lit incense since Andras hadn’t come home.

No, Tamlin, Andras, and even Feyre were beyond his reach, for one reason or another. He was alone.

Well – not quite.

Lucien felt another tremor run through him, this time not from his own body. Cassian, wherever he was, was awake as well. He’d been woken by the pain in his wings as surely as Lucien had. And now Cassian was cold.

Lucien leaned closer to the fire, feeling it flare in response to his magic. He had no idea if the warmth could pass through the mating bond, but why not? Pain did, and other sensations. The other day he’d felt, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, a hand in his own. He’d jerked in his saddle, arrow flying wide, missing the large-eyed doe he’d been aiming at and sending her bounding away into the forest. He’d stared at his hand, but there were no telltale signs of a glamour. And yet he could feel, as surely as he could feel the smooth wood of his bow, soft fingers gripping his so tightly it almost hurt. At the same time, he caught a faint whiff of a scent that was warm, and clear, and utterly unsuited to the Spring Court. Cardamom and cinnamon – he knew them from the Autumn Court – and something he couldn’t quite identify, like the equivalent smell of drinking deeply from a cool mountain stream.

It didn’t take him long to realize that these things – the hand and the scent – must be what Cassian was sensing. The feeling of the mating bond wasn’t as sharp as it was when Cassian was in pain:  more a gentle tugging than the wrench in his heart coupled with the razor-sharp agony that had downed Lucien only a day before that.

In spite of himself, he’d felt jealous of the owner of the hand. Whoever it was, they were clearly close with Cassian, close enough that their presence was comforting, for the wave of emotion that accompanied the sensations was one of relief and happiness. Lucien had sensed the person a number of times since then – always the same scent and always the same emotions, though they were sometimes deadened with sadness and worry or uplifted with hope.

That figure wasn’t the only one who came to Cassian. There was also another – someone with rough hands and always accompanied by a scent of lilies and leather. Lucien didn’t know who this person was either. Someone else Cassian was close to, but not like with the first. The second’s arrival was usually followed by a surge of emotion so strong that Lucien couldn’t identify what Cassian was feeling.

He didn’t know which person he was more jealous of.

Rhys was there too, of course. Lucien knew his scent from his time as an emissary:  citrus and saltwater. He didn’t pay much attention to these interactions. Of course Rhys was there. It was his Court, after all, and Cassian was his commander. Rhys’s arrival always triggered devotion in Cassian, which didn’t surprise Lucien – though what did surprise him was the wave of pity and anger that always flared for a moment.

He’s angry at Rhys, Lucien realized. But why?

Without sight or sound, he could not come up with a plausible reason, so he shrugged off their interactions. Paid more attention to Cassian’s unnamed friends (perhaps two of the Fae who were there with him in Hybern’s castle?) and how he felt around them, hoping to gain some sort of insight into Cassian’s character, into how he should act if they ever met.

But right now, Cassian was just as alone as Lucien was. No scents wafted to him; no comforting hand smoothed Cassian’s hair from his forehead. Lucien took a strange sort of comfort in this. Here, in this liminal space of loneliness and flickering flame and being awake when everyone else slept, the only people they had were each other. Even if Cassian didn’t know it.

So Lucien sent warmth and comfort down the bond as best he could, not knowing if it made any difference, and eventually, they both returned to their beds and their fitful dreams.