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matryosika · 3 years

Text

반역 (betrayal)

pairing – bang chan, hyunjin x reader

word count – 7.2k

warnings – brat!reader, degradation, dirty talk, kind of forced submission, masturbation (f), blowjob/deepthroat, slight knife play, impact play, use of toys (ropes, wand and nipple clamps), double penetration, unprotected sex, body cumshot.

notes – this is a 1000 follower special, so i really hope you all like it. i haven't read this but i am uploading it anyways because i am getting ready to go to bed. please remember that english is not my first language and if there are grammar mistakes i'll make sure to correct them in a few minutes. thank you so much for reading my stuff, and thank you so much for 1000 followers in less than 4 months. it really means a lot. if you like this, or any of my work, please leave an encouraging message on my ask. also, i have a ko-fi! if you want (and are able to) please leave me a tip. it would help me to buy my college books and it would be very very much appreciated!

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a “congratulations, y/n” followed by a bunch of applause was the last thing you heard before your mind drifted completely into oblivion, celebrating internally as you managed to keep a relaxed demeanor in front of your boss and your co-workers.

the meeting, which lasted for barely 30 minutes, felt like a whole eternity. your heart kept on pounding with excitement, your sweaty hands kept on clenching to your leather purse and both of your legs spent the entire time fidgeting, anticipating the most important verdict of your whole career.

congratulations and promotion, those were the words you were looking forward to the most ever since one of your co-workers told you that Mr. Hwang, koisra’s CEO, was starting to evaluate every analyst on the market’s research area to promote it, since the head of the department was about to retire soon.

not in a million years you imagined you would be standing there, in one of the top consulting firms in south korea, getting a promotion and winning 7,700,000 KRW per month for doing the work you enjoyed the most.

well, doing the work you loved most and pulling some strings, like every thinking human being would do.

[6:42 p.m., Hwang Hyunjin]

meet me at the signiel tonight

we must celebrate, isn’t that right?

the way your phone vibrated against your hand shook you out of your trail of thoughts, lowering your gaze just a little to read the message resting on your home screen: meet me at the signiel tonight. the signiel, probably one of the most expensive hotels around seoul and hyunjin’s favorite place to de-stress. you knew him for long enough to know what his definition of celebration was, but you truly couldn’t be mad about it. not when he was a crucial factor in Hwang’s decision to promote you.

instead of replying, you looked for his gaze around the meeting room. sitting across the other side of the table, both of his eyes were already fixed on you, a proud smirk faintly raising on the corner of his lips while his eyes gave you a compassionate look.

hwang hyunjin, the head-director of the partners identification area and your favorite worst nightmare. you had always thought that he earned his position because of the power his last name held but, once you met him, you understood that he deserved it. smart, witty, hard-working and a bastard with a god-complex, he always ended up having things his way.

and that included you. partly.

partly because he took an effort in seducing you. and partly because the decision of falling into his temptation was actually yours. it was not really something you would take pride in, really, but sometimes ulterior motives are what really moves people to do something. like my mother used to say, work smarter, not harder.

however, as much as your initial motive was far from why you were still with him now, you couldn’t deny that hyunjin was probably the man of many people’s dreams. yours included.

“that would be it for today, we will see each other next friday as usual” mr. hwang announced, interrupting the eye-contact between you and hyunjin who was now standing up from his seat in order to leave the meeting room. you ran both of your hands against your skirt to straighten it before standing up, the excitement of the promotion mixed with hyunjin’s promised night made your heart throb in anticipation, a warm familiar sensation traveling throughout your whole body.

but that cozy feeling disappeared in a matter of seconds when another set of eyes darted you a cold gaze from across the room, making you feel almost powerless. even if you wanted to look away, his intimidating presence made you look at him for a few seconds, your whole body trembling inside at such an infuriating look.

you wouldn’t really consider breaking up with chan a mistake because that was a decisive moment in you working towards getting that promotion for yourself, but you also couldn’t deny the fact that your heart melted in nostalgia every time you looked at him. he was a good partner, caring, hard-working, smart and patient.

but as hard as you loved him, you never really saw a future in him.

he left the meeting room without saying anything, not even a smile or his characteristic faint smirk he used to give you before, when you achieved something you worked for. as much as that action made your heart sank, you swallowed hard and left the meeting room, trying to focus your mind on the excitement behind the promotion or on the plans you had for the night.

“y/n, hey!” moon-ji, one of the interns of the company, who was also a research analyst like you, reached out to you as soon as she saw you leaving the meeting, “congratulations on your promotion!”

“thank you, moon-ji” you replied, giving her a soft smile and slightly touching her shoulder.

“i was planning on giving you some flowers as a gift for your promotion and as a sign of gratitude for everything you have teached me, but it seems like someone already stole my idea” she joked, letting out a soft laugh.

“flowers?” you asked her confused, looking over at the desk you had occupied for the last 2 consecutive years. and there it was, sitting on top of various work-sheets, probably the most expensive flower arrangement you had ever seen in your entire life. however, as soon as you read the white gift-card resting on top of a bunch of roses, you inevitably gulped.

“the secret of success is perseverance. congratulations on your promotion, beautiful.

to y/n, from hwang hyunjin and bang chan.”

the smile that once was settled in your face faded away after reading the last words, your pair of curious eyes dancing around the whole lobby trying to catch a glimpse of either hyunjin or chan, but they were nowhere to be found.

reading both of their names together on a gift meant for you made your heart beat a hundred times faster than before.

maybe you wouldn’t have reacted this way if only hyunjin and chan weren’t enemies to death.

even though you had been living in korea for a while now, you just couldn’t get used to the expensive life-style people carried in seoul. no matter how many times you had walked those streets or ate at those restaurants, it always shocked you how expensive everything looked to the point that you almost always ended up feeling out of place. nonetheless, you couldn’t deny how much you loved everything about the city.

“i have a reservation,” you mumbled as you approached the reception of the hotel “under the name of Hwang Hyunjin”.

the young lady behind the counter gave you a courtesy smile and proceeded to dive into the computer in front of her, clicking the keyboard as her eyes danced from one side to another. “i have the reservation here,” she indicated “but mr. hwang has not arrived to the hotel yet”.

“oh” you cooed, “i’ll just wait for him here in the lob-”

“actually,” the lady interrupted, her gaze going over the rounded pair of glasses she was wearing, “the room he booked is also under the name of bang chan, are you accompanying them?”

“bang chan?” you muttered, almost inaudible for the lady behind the counter but crystal clear for the person who was standing right behind you.

“that would be me” he intervened, one of his hands resting on your lower back as the other one leaned on to receive the card to the hotel room. “mr. hwang had a setback but he will be joining us soon”.

the lady frowned once she caught a glimpse of the terror engraved in your face and, almost instinctively, her eyes immediately went over chan. without prying any further, she handed chan a red card that was meant for the door of the hotel room, “signiel seoul hotel hopes that your stay is pleasant enough for you to come back, please enjoy the night”.

and even though she might’ve had a ton of questions about the odd situation, she kept them to herself. when it came to powerful people, or people with influence, it was better to stay quiet than to ask any questions that they didn’t feel like addressing.

“start walking” chan whispered in your ear right after he saved the card in the pocket of his black pants, the hand that was resting on your lower back pushing you ever so slightly as a way of encouraging you to do what he commanded.

“first the flower arrangement and now this?” you questioned in a whisper, trying not to draw any attention of the people gathered around the lobby or the hotel staff, “can you explain me what the fuck is going on?”

“shut up and keep on walking, y/n” he mumbled without even looking at you, his jaw completely clenched as he guided you all the way to the hotel’s elevator, “you don’t want to cause a scene here, do you?”.

luckily (or unlucky) for you, the elevator filled up with at least 6 other people, leaving no empty room for you and chan to have a talk. however, that only exempted you from having a not-so-pleasant conversation for just a few minutes.

[9:12 p.m., Hwang Hyunjin]

did you like the flowers i bought you?

they are pretty, right?

something came up but i’m on my way now.

suddenly, the whole elevator felt way smaller than it actually was. the few people gathered there felt like a whole crowd, your body starting to sweat almost immediately as soon as you read his messages and you found chan’s gaze fixed on you. you knew both of them –and you knew they would never do anything to harm you–, but still, it was impossible for you not to be afraid of whatever it was that was going on between the two of them.

and just when you thought the whole room ran out of oxygen, the doors of the elevator opened.

“room 9097” chan mumbled really close to your ear before pushing your lower back again, signaling you to start walking. and, as astonished as you were, you did.

oh, how you wanted to win the endless battle against your mind, but as soon as you heard chan’s deep voice right next to you or felt his warm touch on your skin, you couldn’t help but bring back the best memories you treasured of him.

as you walked down the long hall, with each step you were drawing yourself further and further from the people that were gathered once in the elevator, leaving behind the bustle and crowded atmosphere only for it to be replaced with the coldness and overwhelming presence of chan. being around him was nothing new, since you two worked together under the same company, but it had been a while since the last time your body found this close to his.

his figure overcame yours as he took the red card to open the door of the hotel room, your eyes fixing on the numbers that were engraved with blank ink in the middle of it. “after you” he mumbled, opening the door for you.

he will never lose his charm.

“make yourself comfortable,” he added, closing the door right after he got in “not that i need to say that, since you come here every once in a while with hyunjin, right?”

“what is this about, chan?” you bluntly asked, laying your purse next to the night stand. he was right, though, you had been at least 5 times at that hotel and that was a very low number for the countless times you remembered.

“i can’t congratulate you for your promotion?” he asked, mocking pain in his words as he drawed a chair to sit right in front of you with both of his legs spreaded.

“since when you and hyunjin are friends?” you questioned him, taking a sit on the edge of the bed right in front of where the chair was positioned. “last time i checked, he wasn’t too fond of you and you hated him with a passion”.

“turns out that, at the end of the day, we had more things in common than we thought we had”. he explained stretching his body on his seat. as hard as you tried to avoid looking at him, you couldn’t help but end up fixing your gaze on the pair of veiny hands that were resting on his knees. those hands that made you see heaven and hell, both at the same time. “you haven’t changed at all” he mocked, his eyes trailing your gaze’s path all the way to his body.

“it hasn’t been that long” you replied coldly, crossing one of your legs on top of the other, “don’t act like you don’t see me on a daily basis”.

“i wish i didn’t,” he added, his gaze fixing on your legs and the hems of your dress without shame, “it would save me a ton of anger”.

“are you still bitter about us breaking up?” you teased, letting out a faint laugh as you rested your body’s weight on your forearms, “i told you i wanted to focus on my career and i did”.

“do you really take pride on getting a promotion for fucking the CEO’s nephew?” he questioned, both his eyes giving you a threatening look, “that’s low, even for a slut like you”.

“a slut like me?” you counter-attacked, trying to maintain your composure even after the words that came out of his mouth stinged your pride, “you never complained about it when we were together, dare i say you loved it”.

“that was back then,” the dark-haired spoke, “when i had something that no one else had”.

“i’m not an object, chan” you fired back, trying to keep up with his intimidating aura.

“you never complained about me treating you that way in bed when we were together, dare i say you loved it” he hissed, using the same words you did just mere seconds ago.

and before you could respond to him anything, the door of the room opened.

there he was, hyunjin, wearing the same black suit he had at the meeting with his long dark hair loose, holding a leather bag of the same color as his clothing.

you stood up from the edge of the bed and walked towards him, the amount of intense emotions threatening to explode right in front of his face. “can you explain me what the fu-” and without leaving you any more time to finish that sentence, he took a fistful of your hair and pulled it harshly, making you kneel right in front of him.

“shhhhhhhh,” he hummed, his characteristic playful smirk making an appearance in no time, “i brought you here to listen, not to talk”.

chan stood up from the chair and walked towards hyunjin, the two of them looking down at you while you struggled to find a comfortable position to ease the pain provided by hyunjin’s grip on your hair. “i don’t know what twisted thing is going on in both of your minds” you hissed, making eye contact with one and then another, "but i truly have no interest in knowing”.

“are you sure?” hyunjin questioned, mocking a sweet tone in his voice as he leaned down to be eye-level with you. “you don’t even want to know the story behind my newest friendship, beautiful?”

you looked at him in awe for a couple of silent seconds, your eyes threatening to start watering from the pain inflicted on your scalp as hyunjin’s grip got harsher and harsher with time. “i’m going to tell you, anyways.” he added with a smile while chan leaned down to open the leather bag.

and just when you thought the evening couldn’t get any weirder, you identified a lot of the things inside of the black leather.

things that both hyunjin and chan had used on you in the bedroom.

“i thought it was going to be way harder to get my way with you, you know?” hyunjin questioned, his available hand caressing your cheek with gracefulness as chan managed one of the things inside of the bag, “i thought it would take a lot of effort to have someone as intelligent and attractive as you are with me”, he continued his dark gaze making your whole body tremble under the warm touch of his hand, “but turns out, i had you for me since the very first day you started to work towards that promotion, isn’t that right?”

you knew where this was going, and to be honest, you were not quite sure if you were ready.

“i knew my last name was powerful enough to be respected, but i never knew it was all i needed to have you begging on your knees for me”.

“my bad” you mumbled with a faint smirk dawning on your face, “i should’ve been clear about my intentions before sleeping with you”.

“see, that’s the part i pity the most,” hyunjin rambled, looking over at chan’s maneuvers, “you didn’t really need me to have that promotion”.

chan’s figured moved towards your back, kneeling behind you as he grabbed both of your arms and settled them behind your back. you knew what was going to happen, but you had no intention to fight it.

not when your soul was ablazing for it to continue.

“my uncle was going to give you that promotion either way, your work is impressive” hyunjin mumbled, giving you a devilish smile, “too bad your neediness always get the best of you”.

“don’t act like you didn’t enjoy any of the nights we spent together, hyunjin” you counterattacked, wincing every time chan tightened the ropes around your wrists a bit too tight. “or do you want me to remind you how much you whined and begged for me?”

“tsk-” hyunjin clicked his tongue, “someone truly needs to fuck the brat out of you”.

“one should’ve thought you are just as dominant in bed as you are at work” you teased, trying to get the worst out of the long-haired, “but if only they knew how much of a pathetic needy man you are”.

“keep on talking” he whispered, tilting his head while never breaking eye-contact “and i assure you that you will regret it later”.

one last knot on the ropes tying your wrists and you couldn’t help but let out a faint cry, knowing that chan applied too much force on it on purpose. “she looks way better when that pretty mouth is put to good use” the short-haired mumbled, positioning himself right next to hyunjin who was now completely standing up.

“do you miss me already?” you teased chan, giving him a needy gaze on purpose to put him more on edge, “is that why you teamed up with hyunjin here? because you missed fucking me?”

“you never shut up, do you?” chan groaned, holding your hair with one hand while the other one unbuckled his belt and pants, your mouth watering from the sweet anticipation of getting something you fantasized with often. “the only time you are quiet is when you have your mouth full”.

you tried to resist his grip to make things even more fun, but he was always ten times more stronger than you were. and no matter how bratty you wanted to act, having his cock mere centimeters away from your lips made your cunt clench desperately around thin air “open your mouth”.

“make me” you teased, knowing that those words were like purchasing a ticket with no return.

chan cupped your cheeks and forced you to open your mouth, slamming his cock right into your warm hole while his hands moved from your cheeks to your hair, forcing you to swallow his whole length without giving you any time to adjust.

“look at her” hyunjin mumbled, taking a sharp black knife from the bag while he leaned on again to be on his knees in front of you, “always ready to take cock like the slut that she is”.

you gagged around chan’s length when you felt the sharp knife dragging along your dress, making cuts and ripping it off completely while hyunjin managed to undress you while having your hands tied up, “she knew she was getting fucked tonight, look at her”.

hyunjin dragged both of his hands along your body, making you tremble under his touch. the underwear you were wearing was almost transparent, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, and so he was the first to notice how your nipples hardened every time chan forced himself into your mouth.

“i’ve been buying tons of toys i want to try with you” hyunjin admitted, his sweet gaze almost caressing your presence while you tried to keep on taking chan’s cock inside your mouth, “i talked to chan about it and we both bought you something… other than the flower arrangement, of course”.

right after finishing that sentence, chan’s cock withdrew from your mouth to give you an opportunity to open your eyes and catch some breath. you panted, an immense amount of drool escaping your lips and staining your underwear as well as hyunjin’s hands. “look at how much that pretty mouth of yours was watering to the thought of being filled with cock” hyunjin mumbled, “were you thinking about sucking his cock when you saw here at the hotel?”

you licked your lips without giving him a proper answer, your eyes scanning every single one of the movements he did. “isn’t this cute?” hyunjin asked, standing up completely and holding what looked like a chain in between his fingers, “chan picked the design specially for you, but it was my idea”.

“she is going to like it” chan assured, taking the chain between hyunjin’s hands and leaning on to put them on you “you’ve always said how good it feels right here”.

his hands lowered down your top underwear to reveal your breasts, the sight of your hardened buds making chan’s cock instantly throb. “it might hurt a little, but i know you will end up liking it” he mentioned, taking the chain and clenching both ends of it on each of your nipples. “does hyunjin know how much like pain, y/n?”

you hissed at the feeling of the nipple clamps, almost arching your back while you tried to breathe out the overwhelming feeling. however, not giving you any time to get used to the sweet pain, chan’s hand grabbed the middle of the chain and pulled it, making your whole body straigthen up in an instant. “fuck-”

“you gag, i pull” he ordered, “you make any sound, i pull, understood?”

“is this my punishment for hurting you both?” you asked, your glossy eyes making hyunjin’s cock beg for its release.

“think of it as a payback” hyunjin answered, “you had what you wanted and now we are both taking what we want”.

chan pulled from the chain again, making you cry. the sound, however, drowned immediately as soon as he pushed his cock back again your mouth again. hyunjin lost almost no time, unbuckling his pants and belt while chan fucked your mouth. and ever since then, they spent taking turns on shoving their cocks inside your warm hole, making you drool, gag and cry around their lengths every time they forced themselves in you.

“i wish you could see yourself, y/n” chan groaned with his jaw clenched, the sight of you eagerly bopping your head over his length while hyunjin’s cock brushed one side of your face waiting to be used could make him cum almost instantly, “your parents would be extremely disappointed if they saw what you are doing right now”.

you slightly withdrew from chan’s cock to take hyunjin’s length inside your mouth, making a mess on yourself in the process. “isn’t she pretty?” hyunjin asked, his head rolling slight back due to the feeling of your warm lips wrapping around him, “taking two cocks at the same time like the good slut that she is”.

“i bet she is soaking wet by just having her mouth fucked” chan grunted, his hand caressing your hair while your mouth did wonders on hyunjin’s cock, “maybe we should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you”.

you shook your head against hyunjin’s length, withdrawing from it while a string of saliva connected your mouth with his cock. nonetheless, you weren’t counting on the chain hanging on your breasts to be pulled. “did i told you i was done?” hyunjin asked, earning a painful whine out of you before resumed your task.

“there are so many things we both want to do with you” chan admitted, starting to unbutton his shirt, “one night is not going to be enough”.

his voice full of lust and the hidden promise behind his words made you squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to receive any kind of stimulation on your core. never in your life you thought you would’ve ended up being used by both your ex-boyfriend and your current partner, but the idea excited you maybe a little bit too much, to the point where all your inhibitions were completely wiped off from your consciousness.

after hyunjin’s cock left your lips, he untied the ropes for you to be able to take your underwear off, as well as to give you more freedom on your upper limbs. “how long have you been planning this?” you asked with a sore throat, your hitching breath and quick heartbeats making you feel almost dizzy.

“maybe we never hated each other like you thought we did” chan replied taking out a familiar device from the bag, “you are not the only one who knows how to lie around here, y/n”.

“let’s play a game, shall we?” hyunjin interrupted, his hands slightly pushing your back into the bed while chan handed him the wand vibrator that you knew too well, “for every sound you make, you get one spank” hyunjin explained with a devilish smirk, his cold gaze fixed on how pretty the nipple clamps looked on you, “and no matter how good we are making you feel, you are not allowed to cum”.

you looked at him and then at chan, which had a serious demeanor on him. chan knew your limits more than hyunjin did, but the both of them were just as fearless. chan wanted to push you to the edge because he always loved to see how you outdid yourself, but hyunjin just liked to push your limits because he was a fucking sadist. and you loved them both equally.

“what happens if i cum without permission?” you panted, opening both of your legs once you felt hyunjin’s hands forcing your thighs open.

“you don’t want to now, y/n” he smiled, turning on the wand and dragging it across your thigh.

it wasn’t even close to your core, but a rebellious moan still managed to escape your lips as soon as the toy touched your skin “that’s one”.

you rolled your back while your forearms rested your whole weight, repressing another painful cry when chan unexpectedly removed the nipple clamps from your breasts. “good girl” he praised in a mocking tone, peppering kisses on your reddened and sore buds.

“no moaning” hyunjin warned, pressing down the wand even more against your bundle of nerves. you arched your back against the bed, trying to hold your breath in order to avoid making any kind of sound.

“you’re such an obedient slut” chan groaned against your breasts, his tongue grazing around them avoiding the place where you needed him the most in purpose, “always ready to fucked, always ready to please anyone who is willing to give you even the slightest crumb of pleasure… you are the perfect fucktoy for us to use, you know that?”

you nodded with your eyes closed, your back still painfully arched as your body tried to get used to the sensations of the vibrator.

“you should see how desperate she gets at work” hyunjin intervened, looking at how much you struggled to keep your composure, “every time she tells me how much she needs to touch herself at the restrooms when i’m busy because she just can’t go a day without having a cock to fill her up”.

“is that right, y/n?” chan asked, dragging his finger over your sensitive nipples and making your whole body squirm under his touch, “i can imagine how pathetic you look inside of the bathroom stalls with both of your legs opened, your cunt dripping wet while you desperately try to get some release with those pretty hands of yours”.

and, once again, you couldn’t repress the moan that escaped your lips at his words.

“this is your second one” hyunjin announced, increasing the mode of the wand.

“you want to cum already,” chan whispered, “isn’t that right?”. you shook your head in despair, one of your hands covering your mouth while tears started to prick in the corner of your eyes. the stimulation provided by hyunjin, along with chan’s presence and words was everything you needed to cum.

but you also knew that if you did so, the fun was going to be over in a matter of seconds.

“just look at her” hyunjin spitted, one of his fingers brushing against the skin on your thighs, “her whole body is shaking and his cunt is throbbing, i bet she can’t even make a coherent sentence because she is already too fucked out to even think properly” hyunjin mocked, the sight of your pulsating pussy making his cock twitch, “she is ready to cum, too bad she doesn’t have any permission”.

you tried to close your legs around hyunjin’s hand, but he was faster to place one of his knees on top of your thigh to prevent that from happening, “i will not stop until you reach your breaking point, so keep your legs open for us, slut”.

“you can make all the noise you want now” chan mumbled as he gave a look to hyunjin “we at least want to hear how good you beg and whine for us”.

you gasped deeply as you cursed under your breath, a ton of incoherent words leaving your lips while you did your best to obey hyunjin’s rule.

“go ahead,” hyunjin grunted, licking his lips at the sight of your weak body still fighting the urges to cum, “degrade yourself and we’ll see if you deserve to cum”

you knew exactly what the both of them wanted, and you knew why they wanted it.

they wanted to see you touch rock bottom because they couldn’t bear the fact that you had use the both of them for your own pleasure. they wanted to see you getting humiliated because it was a way of paying them back for the things you got at their expense. but right now, being completely naked in a bed in front of them, your whole body anticipating for a sweet orgasm while their gazes were fixed on you and their cocks were aching to be inside you… you couldn’t care any less.

“i’m nothing but a filthy slut” you cried, your hips bucking against the toy hyunjin was holding against you, “i’m nothing but holes for the both of you to use when you please”.

a devilish smirk appeared on both of their faces, groaning instinctively at your words.

“i need you both to fuck me” you cried, coming out almost as a painful scream, “fuck- i don’t even care which holes you use, just please-please, pl-please fuck me, i’m nothing but a fucking cockslut”.

your hips kept on grinding against the wand, while both hyunjin and chan stroked their lengths at the delicious sight of your pathetic body practically begging to be used and fucked like an object.

“just because we can’t spent another second without fucking your holes-” hyunjin groaned, pressing the wand against your bundle of nerves even more, “you can cum. but don’t you dare to think for a second that we are done with you”.

and with those three heavenly words, you let out the filthiest moan the both of them had ever heard from you. one spasm after another, your whole body and legs started to shake almost uncontrollably on the bed, your back completely arched while your hands held the soft bed sheets harshly.

“that’s our good slut” chan praised, trying to hold down your body “you look so pathetic and dumb right now, y/n”.

hyunjin turned off the wand and left it aside,undressed himself and laid down on the bed grabbing the nipple clamps that chan left on the side. “i hope you enjoyed it” he muttered, settling himself down on his back while he signaled you to get on top, “because now it’s time for the punishment”.

your weak legs got on top of hyunjin, whining and crying everytime his cock grazed against your core, providing you even the slightest overstimulation.

“2 spanks, isn’t that right?” hyunjin asked with his head slightly tilted, “don’t you think you deserve more?”

“yes, hyunjin” you replied almost automatically, ready to say anything to have your way. and your way was having the both of them fucking you until you forget everything but their names.

“how many do you want?” he asked, “or how many do you think you deserve?”

“give her 20” chan ordered, putting himself right behind you, “and i’ll give her another 20”.

hyunjin licked his lips and forced your whole body to rest on top of him, one of his arms locking you against him while the other one caressed your asscheeks, “count for me, please”.

and so you did. one after another one, you recieved every spank while being bent over hyunjin’s body, feeling his cock hardening every time you let out a painful cry. you couldn’t see yourself, but you knew from experience that a bunch of bruises were going to be decorating your ass tomorrow.

“so pretty” chan groaned, looking at how red both of your asscheeks looked. during your relationship, he was never too fond of causing you any pain. however, that all changed once he saw your pretty body squirming under him every time you received the slightest bit of stimulation.

after giving you a few seconds to gain your composure, hyunjin’s cock was the first one to slam itself into you, earning a moan out of your swollen lips. “you are- so fucking tight” he groaned, clenching his jaw at the sensation of your walls hugging his length, “no wonder why you are always begging to be filled”.

you placed both of your hands on his chest while your head rolled slightly back, feeling the warm sensation of his cock inside you. hyunjin’s hands grabbed the nipple clamps again, and he lost no time into clenching them around your nipples again.

“you look so pretty in these” he groaned, feeling how your cunt throbbed every time he tightened the clamps, “i want to see how pathetic you look riding me with these hanging on from your breasts.”

you let out a faint cry once the clamps were completely hanging from you again, the sore feeling of earlier making its appearance as soon as you tried to move on top of him.

“you are going to ride both of our cocks at the same time” chan mumbled, your whole body trembling with anticipation at the feeling of his length brushing against your asshole. “so you better make us cum”.

you took a deep breath as you felt chan prudding into your tightest hole, the painful feeling being almost unbearable.

“sluts like you can take a cock on their asses” hyunjin groaned, feeling how every time you clenched harder and harder against him, “suck it up”.

your whole body fell down on hyunjin again, your forearms too weak for you to even hold yourself. “i can’t-”

“yes you can” chan interrupted, almost groaning at the feeling of your warm hole, “you had taken me many times before, this time it’s not going to be an exception”.

let out a cry again, feeling how he slammed his cock in and out of you in an attempt to get you used to it. and as much as you hated to admit it, it worked.

the painful feeling was long gone, only replaced with pleasure and the arousal of knowing that both of their cocks were inside you, begging for you to milk them completely.

“start riding us” hyunjin ordered while the tip of his fingers brushed against the gold chain in front of him, “you know how to make us cum, pretty good slut”.

with hard work, you managed to raise your body by resting the palm of your hands on hyunjin’s chest, your hips involuntarily grinding against both of them.

“faster” chan demanded, landing a spank on your sore ass, “prove us how much of a slut you truly are”.

and just as if your brain was controlled by each of their words, you started to move eagerly against them, ignoring the soreness of your whole body. the way the nipple clamps felt on your breasts everytime they bounced, the way hyunjin’s and chan’s cock filled you up just fine, chan’s filthy words and hyunjin’s penetrative gaze was everything you needed to reach your second orgasm.

but you needed to take your time, you needed to engrave this memory in your head because never in your life you had felt more pleasured than being submitted to them.

“come on, slut” hyunjin mumbled, one of his hand pulling the chain of the nipple clamps ever so slightly, “weren’t you bold a few minutes ago talking about how much i beg for you when you ride me?”

and just like a small spark ignited a big fire, his words caused that bratty part of you to come out once again. your hands that were once resting on his chest moved all the way to his neck, choking him just fine and using him as a support, riding both of their cocks while hyunjin’s smirk grew wider and wider.

“you say i can’t go a day without being filled up with a cock” you moaned, making sure to clench around both of them constantly, “but you can’t go a day without wanting to fill me up, we are the same”.

chan let out a groan at the scene and your words, grabbing your hips while he actively slammed his cock into you, making you cry and whine even louder than before.

“that doesn’t make you any less of a slut” hyunjin moaned in between broken words, his smile growing wider everytime you choked him harder. “a beautiful, filthy, cockslut that just wishes to be used as a sex toy every single fucking day”.

you continued on doing your task, choking hyunjin as the chain grazed over his pretty plumped lips. chan’s cock felt heavenly inside you, stretching your ass just fine, but it was the sinful noises coming out of his mouth what made you feel the most aroused.

and just when you thought you had found physical stability in your body, chan grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced your head back, making you arch your back while his eyes found yours.

“you are nothing but our filthy cock slut” he groaned, punding your ass at a rough pace, “you are meant to please us and only us, every time and at any hour of the day that we want. you are nothing but our dirty cute sex toy, always available for us to use and fuck whenever we feel like it”.

“yes, yes, yes, fuck-” you chanted, feeling your orgasm approaching every time a word came out of his lips.

“you look so pathetic right now, y/n” he moaned, his noises mixing up with hyunjin’s, “being stuffed by two cocks and degrading yourself… i wish you could see yourself”.

he let out of your hair making your whole body fall against hyunjin’s once again, chan picking up the pace of his thrusts while he, like hyunjin, desperately chased his high.

“fuck- i’m cuming” you anounced once again, hiding your face on the long-haired’s neck.

“cum all over our cocks” he groaned against your ear, feeling how the movement of your hips became sloppier by the minute, “prove us how much of a slut you are for us”.

and with those last words, your high washed over you once again. not without hyunjin’s hands finding your neck and choking you back as a way of revenge, looking at your pretty glossy eyes trying to keep themselves open while you reached the highest point of your orgasm, your moans and whines coming out broken as hyunjin restricted the flow of oxygen through your head.

“please-” you whined.

“please what?” chan groaned, gripping your hips harshly while he chased his own high.

“please- cum-”

“what do you want, pretty?” hyunjin panted, feeling the consequences of your high driving him almost insane.

“cum- inside” you managed to mumble, your incoherent and fucked out mind too busy trying to recover from the nerve wrecking orgasm to even attempt to talk.

“do you want us to cum inside you?” chan asked with fake sympathy.

“y-yes” you whispered, your eyes rolling to the back of your head while you tried to bear the overstimulation on your holes and nipples, “cum inside”.

“our pretty dumb slut can even form coherent words” hyunjin mocked, slightly slapping one of your cheeks. “too bad we don’t follow orders from fuck toys like you”.

and with that being said, both of them withdrew their cocks from inside you, leaving you without any physical support and laying you down on the bed as you tried to catch a glimpse of what was going on.

“please- not”

“aren’t you a cockslut?” chan questioned, stroking himself right on top of your body, “cock sluts don’t mind where they get the cum, right?”

“inside-”

“be grateful we even fucked you in the first place, y/n” hyunjin groaned, looking at your pretty fucked out face, “and be grateful that we are going to cum on your beautiful body”.

tears started streaming down your face once you realized that you were not going to get what you truly wanted, that being filled up with their cum on both of your holes.

you looked at the both of them stroking their lengths on top of your body, begging for them to cum on you over and over again.

and that’s what they did, painting your abdomen and breasts with their sticky arouse.

“this is the only thing you are good for” hyunjin whispered in your ear, looking at how good your body looked while being dirty, “and just know that we will continue on using you over and over again, because that’s what sluts like you want, isn’t that right?”.

and you, being too weak to even rethink your decision, nodded.

if only you knew, that this was merely the beginning of what was about to come.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #hyunjin smut #bang chan x reader #hyunjin x reader #stray kids angst #skz angst #kpop smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshots #skz imagines #skz oneshots

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theheraldsrest · 3 years

Text

“Inquisitor bringing back a dragon egg and claiming it as their own child”

Yeeeaaahh It’s been a bit since we’ve made any posts. Our schedules have cleared up a bit and we should be able to post more, and this time on an actual schedule. I’ll be posting on Mondays-Tuesdays and Cabot will be posting on Wednesdays. Here you go, our first ask back!

-Lord Lex

Cullen

-”No no no NO! Absolutely not! We are not going to be raising a DRAGON in Skyhold! A dragon destroyed Haven, and that one wasn’t even on our side! How in the name of the Maker are you going to train that thing?! This is absolutely ridiculous, what are you thinking?! How-”

-You have to survive his rant first but, to be fair, he has good reason to worry

-If you keep it, he doesn’t argue with your decision, but you have noticed that Skyhold is being more fortified, people are being the taught on how to “take care” of a dragon, while others are being taught how to actually take care of a dragon

-Cullen sees this turning out two ways: One, this could actually be a great benefit to the Inquisition or Two, the Inquisitor has finally gone insane and this is just the Maker’s way of punishing Cullen for existing

Josephine

-”Haha, very clever joke, Inquisitor! You actually had me there for a moment! Hahaha...ha...he...you’re not joking, are you? Oh Maker…”

-Takes a lot of convincing to get her to actually allow you to keep it. Is even a little proud that you made a list of pros and cons

-Tries to even change your mind with other “pet” ideas. Just do what Leliana’s done and get pet nugs. They’re vicious enough if you train them. Or mabari, mabari are good pets, love cuddles. Or how about-?

-Is ever so slightly curious about how this will turn out though, even hires people who are dragon experts to help make sure it’s safe and well taken care of

Leliana

-”A dragon? That...actually could be very resourceful.”

-Unlike her co-workers, she finds this to be a rather interesting and fun idea that could really help the inquisition

-Does pass along notes about its growth to researchers and caregivers. Kinda wants to help in the process of raising and training it. How different can it be from nugs?

-Very. Very different. Nugs don’t breathe fire, for one.

Vivienne

-”Put it back, dear. We don’t need to add on another dangerous creature with horrible, destructive capabilities to our little group. We already have Cassandra.”

-It’s like a very tired mother telling their child to put back the puppy. The fire breathing, 200 ton puppy.

-Keeps talking about your image, trying to raise such a thing after the several encounters you’ve had with dragons ended with you almost dead

-Actually, no, go right ahead. She’d love to see what’d happen. Don’t worry, you’ll do fiiiine.

Varric

-*Currently having Vietnam flashbacks* “Please no.”

-He’s kinda split. On one hand, he doesn’t want to deal with this. On the other, imagine the stories he could write

-He thinks he needs to stop telling dragon jokes because the first time he said he had expected Corypheus to pull a dragon out of his ass and he did. Made the same joke about the Inquisitor…

-Comes to like the idea when he sees the Inquisitor treating it like a mabari. Who’s a good, man-eating, electricity-breathing dragon? Yes it’s you!

Cole

-”Your child? But...it’s a dragon? How do you make it your child? It’s rather big. Warm and happy, it doesn’t know about the outside yet or what’s waiting for it...I think you’d make a great mother dragon.”

-He’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit. (Get it? No? Ok, I’ll see myself out) He has no problems with this

-It actually helps a lot that Cole can tell you if he's upset or not happy. Gives you an idea of the mood swings it has

-Cole is confused on why you keep calling it ‘one’ of your children. Who are the rest? Varric puts emphasis on Kid when he’s talking to Cole.

Solas

-*Solas Disapproves*

-What could go wrong? He has a list. What if it doesn’t listen? What if it’s uncontrollable? How do you expect to raise it? What are you even going to feed it? People? Your enemies? Where are you going to keep it? What if it causes more damage than the one Corypheus had? What if-?

-If he can’t convince you to put it back, he does try to help you with it. Hell, (if your inquisitor drank from the Well) you were able to control the ancient dragon, this one shouldn’t be much harder

-He gives it pet names, favors calling it names associated to the type it is. For example, a fire one would be nicknamed Little Burner or Little Light, a cold one would be Frost or Snowflake.

Cassandra

-*Cassandra Greatly Disapproves*

-Makes you put it back, she doesn’t even want to hear the ridiculous reasoning for why you want it as a ‘child’. You already have destructive children and their names are Varric, Sera, Bull, and Cole.

-There is absolutely no way in whatever realms that exist is she going to allow this to happen, the absolute absurdity of the whole idea is- Somehow you got it to Skyhold and it’s name is now Fluffy.

-Maker, give her strength to put up with you. She might see you as a great leader, but sometimes you can make some really stupid decisions.

The Iron Bull

-”This is one of the most dangerous ideas I’ve ever heard. Can I help raise it?”

-You don’t even have to ask, he’s helping to carry the egg, talking about different ways it could be used whether for battle or for intimidation

-He’s dedicating his time to this creature and has actually done some reading up on how to properly care for it

-If you’re not careful, it starts to think Bull’s it’s mother, following him around and chirping. The Chargers have taken to calling him Mama Bull.

Dorian

-”That’s a brilliant idea, Inquisitor! And after that, we’ll go raise Corypheus from the dead and ask him to join us for afternoon tea! Oh, why not invite my mother as well! Why not just summon Andraste herself?!”

-Safe to say, he thinks this is one of your worst ideas. But he’s not gonna stop you. What? It’s gonna be funny watching you try and raise this creature

-Said he wanted nothing to do with it, but still comes around to make sure you haven’t killed it. And that it’s properly being covered. And that you’re not breaking it.

-He adores it, though, once it’s born. Won’t admit it, but the baby talk gives it away

Sera

-”This. Is going to be. The BEST joke. Ever!”

-Keep Sera away from it, she’s almost broke it several times, either by trying to carry it or rapping her knuckles against it

-It’s like a little kid waiting for their baby sibling to be born: she’s drawn pictures of it eating people and taking a shit on nobles, she keeps talking about what all they can do with a dragon on their side including blowing stuff up

-Has nicknamed it PeeWee. No reason whatsoever.

Blackwall

-*very deep sigh* “Please, please say you’re joking.”

-You’re not joking? Andraste, he’s too old for this. It’s like the Inquisitor is trying to give him a heart attack wherever he goes

-He doesn’t really give his opinion but you do see him give the egg a weary look every once in awhile

-Comes to actually enjoy the little thing, feeding it bits of food because ‘it gave me the look’ or petting it and telling it that it’s very handsome/beautiful

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years

Note

How about-Hanahaki disease? Gerald/Jaskier? Happy ending please!

Nonny! Darling you read my mind, I’m an ‘angst with a happy ending’ kinda gal. Just so we’re clear, I know nothing of flower meanings and I didn’t research.

TW: Gore

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Jaskier first coughed up a flower at age three.

Poets loved Hanahaki, it was considered romantic, and those prone to it were tragic beauties, destined to languish, delicately spitting blood and rose petals into a silk handkerchief. No one really wrote about how it could be brought on by deeply unrequited platonic love.

Jaskier coughed a violet into his little fist and brought it to his mother, who turned him away.

Fifteen years down the line and having graduated Oxenfurt with honors, Jaskier was old hat at taking care of Hanahaki. His feelings, although often unrequited, were also often fleeting. A night spent coughing tulips into a bowl and a sore throat the next mroning, but rarely more than that.

If it persisted for a week or more there was tea. Any apothecary in even a mid sized city carried it. It was putrid and thick and slid down the throat like a cup of slugs, but in the morning there were no petals, and after two or three days of the stuff, the disease was gone.

He was almost thankful for being so prone to Hanahaki, it was romantic and lended much to his chosen profession. People gave him sympathetic looks and free drinks if he sang a sad song and discreetly spat a rose petal into a handkerchief. Most of the time he simply didn’t mind it, and considered himself twice blessed with his mobile heart.

Sometimes he had nightmares of what would happen if he found true love.

The notions of true love itself was romantic, but everyone knew that your true love, the one you were fated to, if they didn’t love you in return no tea would save you.

He’d watched a friend, a grad student at Oxenfurt, die of it. It was no delicate coughing into handkerchiefs, no poetic languishing. He’d held her hair back as she threw up petals and blood, crying as she clutched the bucket with skeletal hands because she could no longer force food down a torn throat.

It had been so slow, she’d said between pulling thorned stems from her mouth. More than a decade of loving the boy she’d had a crush on in her small town village. She’d lived through it all, only occassionally throwing up flowers. Always snow white roses, for him, apparently. It would have been wonderfully artistic if Jaskier didn’t know how they looked covered in blood.

Then she’d gone to his wedding to the baker’s daughter and two weeks later he watched her cough out roots wrapped around a chunk of lung and screamed for a doctor knowing it was too late. The blood stain never washed fully out of the floor.

And she’d said it was worth it. That she wouldn’t have stopped loving him for the world, even as she said it through a throat full of thorns.

Jaskier never understood it, leaping from town to town, avoiding long term connections while knowing all the while that if fate wanted him to fall in love he would. Denying Destiny only made things nastier, he knew. And then, in a tevern in Posada, with bread in his pants and a hole in his boot, his eyes met pure gold.

It took a split second, less probably, for him to realize that, although he didn’t love the man yet, for love at first sight truly is a poet’s myth, he could love this man. And if he died for this man, maybe the love would be worth it after all.

The man was a witcher, who punched him in the gut and stank of onion and talked to his horse. Jaskier followed him anyway.

He followed him and coughed up flowers, different blossoms for different people, and he began to fall deeper in love. He wondered sometimes what flowers he would cough, as the bouquets turned into only one kind.

What flower would represent Geralt? Not buttercups or dandelions, certainly. Perhaps if someone else were to catch Hanahaki for Jaskier those would be for him. Geralt wasn’t a dandelion. He was grumpy and spiky and after ten years wouldn’t even call Jaskier a friend.

In the dead of night Jaskier feared it would be white roses, like he’d seen once before.

And then Geralt died in a collapsing building only to be alive and fucking a purple-eyed sorceress after nearly killing Jaskier with a djinn. Jaskier vomited flowers not twelve hours after vomiting blood.

Snow drops, tiny and delicate. And from that point forth he never coughed up any other kind.

It didn’t progress so quickly though. Jaskier had expected to die within a month of Geralt meeting Yennefer. He didn’t. Love and sex weren’t the same thing, and his love didn’t go totally unrequited either. It wasn’t the same sort of love, but in the quiet moments just after dawn it was enough.

Then Geralt made a choice.

He wouldn’t kill dragons, he didn’t hunt sapient creatures, he wanted nothing to do with the dragon hunt, until he caught sight of Yennefer.

And that left Geralt and Jaskier, on top of a mountain, as Geralt screamed into the wind that Jaskier meant nothing to him. Jaskier felt the roots set in.

He wasn’t going to get the story from the others. He could barely breathe, the pain was so sharp and intense and he could feel it growing, feel the flowers growing. Little snowdrops had no right to be so painful.

He wasn’t going to make it off the mountain.

Jaskier took a different trail down, and then wandered into the forest a little way, coughing blood and stems the whole way. He collapsed under a tree, blood staining his doublet. He wished he had a friend to clutch his hand, hold his hair back and rub his back like he’d done more than twenty years ago.

There wouldn’t be a funeral though. No one would know what had happened to Jaskier the bard. Worse, no one would know what happened to Julian, the person, the man. As he threw up a clump of flowers and blood he felt very much like the scared little boy who threw up a flower for the first time.

It hurt. It burned and shredded his throat and he wanted a friend and he didn’t have any. He’d thrown all his eggs in one basket twenty years ago and Geralt had kicked that basket off the mountain.

Jaskier leaned his lute up against the tree. It’d be such a shame to get blood on the lovely girl. He curled up next to it, in a fetal position on his side as the coughs wracked his whole body.

His friend had lasted two weeks, he thought. But her rejection was a wedding. Not her best friend and the love of her life telling her never to see him again. That he was a burden. That if life or Destiny could give him one blessing it would be to take Jaskier off his hands. And Destiny was going to deliver. She had made Jaskier love Geralt, and she would kill him by it.

Still, Jaskier would have given anything for the comfort of his friend right now. He began to cry, snot and tears and blood and petals all mixing. He couldn’t even breathe, his lungs burned so bad.

His vision was blurry.

He could hear noises, tromping through the forest and who knew what awful creatures lurked here. Just like Dame Destiny to have him disembowled while dying of Hanahaki.

It was dark, but it had been noon on the mountain. Black clouds swirled and closed in his vision.

A strangled noise.

No monster made that noise. That was a man-made noise. It sounded very much how Jaskier had felt on the mountaintop. He retched up a flower and tasted pollen and iron.

“Jaskier!”

He didn’t remember hallucinations being part of the final stages, but the brain played funny tricks.

“Jaskier!” There it was again, and he was being bundled up tight to a chest that was not at all comfortable and smelled of horse and leather and sweat and onion. A buckle of Geralt’s armor dug into his cheek. Jaskier’s mouth was full of stems and roots.

GLoved fingers dug in, pulling snowdrops from between his lips and then Geralt kissed him. It was entirely awful and unsatisfying.

Dimly Jaskier came to the realization that it was not supposed to a kiss, but Geralt trying to blow air into his flowering lungs. A nice gesture but unhelpful.

He lolled his head to the side to throw up another clump of root, not wanting to throw up directly into Geralt’s mouth.

A shudder ran through the chest he was pressed against, like a tremor before an earthquake. Then a sob.

It was quiet. The worst sobs are.

Geralt lay Jaskier down on the floor, one hand cupped beneath his head, gently cradling. Then the witcher curled next to him, face pressed against a pale neck streaked with blood, and cried.

Jaskier wanted to comfort him, to stroke a hand through soft white hair one last time and thank him for not letting him die alone. He just didn’t have the strength.

Another wretched, tiny sob, then, “I’m sorry, Jaskier. I’m so sorry.” Oh that wasn’t fair. A tear leaked from Jaskier’s eye.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt continued, face pressed into Jaskier’s collarbone. “I didn’t mean it, I was angry and tired and I’ve hurt you but please,” the voice faded to barely a whisper. “Please don’t leave me, I didn’t mean it, I love you don’t leave me here alone.”

Don’t leave him here alone. Jaskier though. Destiny owed him, owed them both for all she’d put them through. Don’t make him lonely, he prayed. I don’t want to leave him alone.

Geralt held Jaskier tighter, pressing even closer like he was trying to meld them into one. “I love you,” he said. “I’m sorry, Jaskier. I love you.”

The world went white.

Jaskier blinked his eyes open with blood in his mouth. It didn’t seem to deter Geralt, who kissed him so thoroughly his head felt light. Then Geralt pulled him upright. There was blood on the ground around them, some even streaked into Geralt’s hair.

There were no stems though.

The forest floor had been carpeted for ten feet all around them with snowdrops, planted firmly in earth instead of lungs. They were so close together it looked like a sudden snowfall, trailing to fewer and farther between at the edges of their little pool of white.

“I...” Jaskier said, letting Geralt pull him to his feet. He wasn’t sure what to say but it turns out he needn’t say anything. Geralt was clutching him like a lifeline and tucking a snowdrop into his hair.

“I smelled blood,” he said, lips brushing into Jaskier’s brown fringe. “I smelled blood and was so afraid. I haven’t been truly afraid in so long and then I found those wretched flowers.” Geralt took a shaky breath.

“I truly thought it was too late.” He pulled back and looked into Jaskier’s eyes. Geralt’s own yellow ones were dry but the emotion was clear. “I thought I had lost you, my love.” A gloved hand, only slightly bloody stroked Jaskier’s cheek. “I thought I had lost you, my life’s greatest gift. And I wanted to lay down beside you and die as well.”

Jaskier chuckled wetly. “You overdramatic sod,” he said between watery sniffles. “What a ridiculous notion. And I can’t believe it takes me dying to turn you into a romantic.”

“Almost dying,” Geralt said firmly. There was panic written plain across his face, as if he was terrified that time would slam into reverse just to take Jaskier from him. Another embrace, just this side of bone crushing. “Almost dying, my love.”

“Not dead, my love,” Jaskier responded.

As they made their way down the mountain snowdrops bloomed in their footsteps, but they were too busy looking at each other to notice.

#geraskier #hanahaki au #hanahaki disease #tw: gore #angst with a happy ending #yo im actually so proud of this what the heck?#askbox answers

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kaz11283 · 3 years

Text

The Shape of You

Summary: While at one of Tonys top end parties the god of mischief asks you to dance to your suprise. You didn't think he was the type to dance muchless to the song that he decided to ask you to dsnce to.

Characters: Loki, Thor, Tony, Natalie, Wanda, Clint, Steve

Pairings: you x Loki, you x Thor (platonic), you x Tony (Brother, sister)

ANNOUNCMENTS: I got this idea while listening to "Shape of You", then I really started getting into the story everytime that I listened to it (which was a lot). Ive had this on my head for a while now but i had to finish up I think I'm in love and part 2. I also got 200 followers today, next is 300, lets get this! BTW I know that this is a GIF from High Rise but it gives you a PRETTY good iead whats going on. 💚💚💚

Loki Masterlist

"Why do you insist on bringing me to the boring ass parties Nat?" You asked trying to pull the hem of the dress down that she had picked oit for you. It wad a dark blue thigh length dress with a very low v neck, the shoes where a high heel ankle strap black shoe with small bows on the side the same color as the dress.

"Stop. Stop pulling, your not gonna make it any longer by doing that." She said swatting your hands away. "I bring you to these 'boring ass parties' because you spend to much time in the library doimg research, in your room working, or sitting in the lab trying to make something better. Point is, you are always working."

"I dont hear you complaining when something of yours gets improved, or an upgrade. Nat I love you but I am a weponds expert. I work better in the quite, thats my zone. Not here."

"Is that why you enjoy spending time with Loki? Because I have to tell you y/n hes not really the quite type." She rasied an eyebrow to look st you.

"Hes not the quite type around all of you because you all make snide remarks. Hes usually quite around me because I dont pick on him or call him names." You turned and looked straight at her.

"All of the other reindeer, use to laugh and call him names." Tony sang walking up to the two of you with a drink. "Couldnt be talking about reindeer game could you?"

"Thank you Tony, and we were just finishing talking and Loki." You answered walking off to sit at the bar where Steve and Thor was sitting.

"Your brother throws one heck of a party." Steve saod tilting his beer to his mouth. "Defiantly better than some of the parties I've been to."

"It is a good party but nothing like the ones on Asguard." Thor boomed with laughter. "You must come some time, we would have a grand celebration in your honor."

"Hes always been a little over the top, if you cant tell. Always had an eye for big, expensive things. Flamboyant parties, playboy style women, expensive cars. Whatever he wants he gets, now dont get me wrong he does work his ass off, but sometimes it would be nice to just have a weekend were the walls didnt shake while I am trying to work on something."

"Ah but little sister, all work and no play makes y/n a dull boy." Tony answered lightly slapping your back.

"Jesus Christ Tone, stop quoting movies, it gets rather annoying."

"Another round, bartender, for little sister." Tony said ruffling your hair.

"You realize I cant stand you right?" You shot him a sideways look.

"Thats why I dont let you work on my toys." He answered giving you a kiss on the top of the head before walking off.

"Thor?" You turned to the god of thunder.

"Yes Lady y/n?" He turned to were he was facing you, his legs on either side of your thighs.

"Do you know of your brother is going to show up?" He laughed turning back to the bar. "Dont get me wrong I absolutly love your company but...."

"You would rather have the company of a more slender, raven haired man tonight." He raised a brow while taking a drink of his beer.

"Well, yes. He is quite interesting to say the least." You laugh.

"Well lady y/n, he said he would be down shortly. He did say he was going to make an apperance though."

"Thank you." You stood, leaning down to kiss his cheek before walking off to find someone else interesting to talk to.

"Hey y/n! Over here!" Clint shouted waving you over to were he, Nat, and Wanda were sitting.

You sat talking to them for a little bit about what new stuff you had added to their weapons and gear, Clint was excited about trying out some of the new arrows that you had developed. You kept gnacing around the room hoping to catch a glips of Loki when he decided to come down.

While you and Wanda was in the middle of a conversation you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning slightly you seen Loki stamding there was a know it all smirk on his face, he was wearing a completly black suit with his hair slicked back, you coud have swore that your heart stopped.

"Hello Darling, I heard you had been asking about me?" He offered you his hand to help you stand.

You laughed tucking your chin down slightly, you could feel your cheeks heat up. "I am going to kill your brother." He lead you back to the bar and getting you a drink handing it to you.

"You look quite ravishing tonight." He leaned in whispering in your ear. "Dont start being bashful tonight, after what happened last night." He had caught you off guard causing you to spit your drink back in your glass.

"Loki," you hissed smacking him on his shoulder. "We dont need Tony going all Iron Man on you tonight."

"Dance with me." He took your glass sitting it back on the bar and grabbed your hand.

"Oh no no no no. I dont dance." You tried stopping but he pulled you to the edge of the damce floor.

"Then dont dance, let the music guide you, or just follow my lead." He grabbed your waist pulling you closer to him, the song was an up beat song and he started moving. "Midguardian dances are so simple, it would be a type of tango I am assuming." He took you hand and wrapped it around the back of his head before placing his hand on your lower back pulling you even closer.

"This is crazy." You laughed after a few practice steps. It was simple yet intimate at the same time, you had a feeling you knew where this was heading.

"But simple, you are better than what you give your self credit for." He spund you around a few times as the tempo changed, when he spun you back to him his chest ws aginst your back as his hamd splayed across your abdomen.

He traced his nose up the side of your neck as you both moved causing you to give a small moan. "My bed sheets still smell like you." He whispered.

"Loki, can I let you in on a secret." You turned back in his arms to face him.

"Of course my dear." His fingers stroked your back.

"I think I'm in love with you." You wrapped your hand around his head so that you could pull his ear down to your level. You heard him take a breath and the dancing faltered slightly but he kept moving.

"It feels as though I might be returning those feelings y/n." You smiled up at him he turned you in a few more circles causing you to be facing away from him again. His hips following yours in a delicious manner causing your thoughts to go back to the night before. His trailing kisses down your neck to your collar bones, fingers caressing up your sides pulling your shirt over your head. You returning the favor and being speechless at finally seeing him with out his shirt on. He had a more slender figure but his muscles were still there. Remembering the feeling of his chest clenching as you ran your fingers up and around his neck to pull him closer for the earth shattering kiss that had lead to so much more.

"You reliving some of last nights activities, y/n?" He asked quietly.

"Yes but sadly I am having trouble remembering some parts. You might have to remind me." The song ended as you pulled him off the dance floor and through the doors leading to the hallway.

~~~~~

Tag List:

@kgirardin

@sophlubbwriting

@supbeeches

@high-functioning-lokipath

@rosaline-black

@serpentargo

@drbaureid

ANNOUNCEMENT 2: Wow wow wow, ok so some slightly adult situations but oh dear lord, my face is a little red just from writting that. I've read worst but never wrote. What I would give to be twirled around the dance floor like that by him. Thank you guys for reading! I really hope you enjoy this one. Like I saod I have been thinking about this for about a week now and here it is. I habe to say this is like top 3 of my faves (my first was and still is my fave "Bath Time For a Prince") Thank you again for all the love and the support!!!!

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sadachmesarthim · 3 years

Text

bingo fill two: cum fetish

content: peter being a Sudden Service Top, shy!tony, tony being an Absolute Whore

hope you enjoy <333

Peter was nothing, if not a man of science. Above all else, he cared about thorough investigation and novel discovery.

So when he realized what a cumslut Tony Stark was... He decided to experiment.

They hadn't been together long - they'd danced around each other for years, finally caving when Peter finished undergrad. It was a comfortable type of love - something you see in old movies, or cheesy romance novels.

But the sex... Jesus christ, the sex.

Peter hadn't had much time for... self discovery, while in school. Between patrol, double majoring in biochem and genetics, and maintaining a semidecent sleep schedule, there wasn't really opportunity for him to date or fuck around.

So when he came back to Manhattan, and they finally quit mooning over each other... needless to say, Tony hadn't had that much sex since his twenties.

It was generally kind of nice. Tony was sweet, gentle in his love making. Peter preened under the attention, sure - there was nothing wrong with their sex life. But Peter could tell Tony wanted something different.

When he brought it up, Tony turned bright red, stumbling over his words.

"It's not... There's nothing wrong, honey, really, I promise. I just... Sometimes I wish I was in your... position." This left Peter confused. "You... You want to bottom?" He'd never mentioned anything about it before.

Peter's tone didn't help Tony's blush, nor did it make him feel better about the whole ordeal. "Listen it's not... It's not an issue really and I don't... I don't have to. Seriously, if you're not comfortable we-" Peter stopped him mid sentence.

"Okay, no, that's not what I said at all. I just didn't know what you meant, Tony, let's take a step back." His hands immediately went to Tony's shoulders, bringing the older man back to the present. Grounding. "I love you, you know that right?"

Tony relaxed in his grip, taking a deep breath. "I know, I know, and I love you too. I just... It's embarrassing." Peter cocked his head, still not following. "You gotta use your words, T, or I can't give you what you want."

He closed his eyes, thumbs stroking over Peter's knuckles. He could do this, he could do this.

"I... So you know how you got bit by the spider, right?" Peter was very aware. He was also aware of just how bad Tony was stalling.

"Tony if you don't just spit it out I swear to go-"

"I want to see how much cum you can fit inside me!" He broke. With Peter holding him, right up in his face, he couldn't do it, couldn't hold it in anymore.

He slid to his knees, head falling into his hands. "I just... You can go so much, and sometimes when I'm fucking you I get to thinking.. How many times could you go in one night? How much could you produce? A few ounces? A cup? More? Makes me cum so quick just thinkin' about it, even in my old age. Can't stop thinkin' about it, about you fillin' me up like that. I can't do it anymore.

"It makes me feel like a gross old man, you know? Thinking about you like that? About you using me like a toy? It drives me crazy but I can't stop, can't keep it in anymore." He was shaking, unable to stop himself once he started.

Peter's eyes were wide, mind racing to process what Tony was saying. The bite had impacted their sex life - he could rebound almost instantly, and he did... produce more than the average twenty-something.

He sat down next to Tony, cradling him. "That's all you had to say, baby, it's okay. Shh shh, you're okay." he rubbed circles into Tony's shoulder, kissing his temple. "You know I'd never judge you for wanting something, right?"

Tony sighed. He knew that, logically, of course. His anxiety around admitting it didn't listen to logic, though, and it was hard to override that. "I know. I know. I love you. I'm sorry for freaking out."

Peter just kissed him again. "It's okay, T."

•|||•

Peter waited a few weeks before bringing it up again - both for Tony's benefit, and his.

He'd spent a long time digging through medical journals, doing independent research... He even made a (very awkward) call to Dr. Strange.

It didn't take him long to create a game plan: he needed to double his water intake, get more leafy greens and ripe fruit in. It wasn’t difficult - he had to shift around some of his calories, sure, but he made it work.

The worst part was not orgasming. He and Tony'd resumed their normal sexual activities a few days after their... discussion. But Peter made it a point not to cum - he wanted to build up as much as possible.

Even worse - he was edging himself several times a day. Massaging his prostate, sleeping with Tony, jerking off until just on this side of orgasm in the shower... He made it a point to work himself up and then leave himself there. He'd read several articles that talked about edging and semen production, and they all agreed - the less you cum, the more you produce and retain.

So he went with it. For the better part of a month - he didn't cum.

Tony, initially questioned it - but with some solid reassurances, and promises that Peter had "something exciting" in store, he let up. Getting him on the edging process was fun too - enough spice to keep Tony entertained until Peter was ready.

And ready, he was.

•|||•

He decided on a Friday night - that way they'd have all weekend to recover (or continue, if Tony wanted).

He made a real spectacle of it, too - stocking them with water bottles and easy snacks, bringing in a bunch of clean towels and leaving them at the foot of the bed. He wanted this to be good for Tony, and part of that was being ready for anything.

He waited until Tony was finished with work to bring it up. He didn't want Tony to be distracted at all, and he knew exactly how much anticipation can hinder daily activities.

When Tony walked through the doors of the penthouse, he could tell something was up.

It wasn't like Peter to be so... Flighty.

He was walking circles around the bar, drink in hand. Tony couldn't tell whether or not it was a drink drink, but it didn't matter... If Peter was up and pacing like this, there was definitely something up.

"Hey baby, how was your day?" Okay, yeah, something's definitely up. Peter never asked - he always waited for Tony to start - always gave Tony the opportunity to either vent about, or forget entirely, the day he'd just finished.

Tony dropped his suit jacket on the bar chair, walking back to meet Peter where he stood. He grabbed Peter's face in his hands, kissing down from his forehead to his lips. Peter sighed into the contact, relaxing immediately. "It was okay. What's got you all tense like this?"

Peter exhaled sharply before responding. "You know how you... brought up that thing, a few weeks ago? That thing you wanted to try?" Tony hesitated, eyes narrowing. "I... Yeah. Why?"

Peter blushed under the scrutny. "I've... Well, you know how I've been working on that thing? Not... not coming? I wanted to surprise you... And I think today'd be a good day." Tony was confused now. "You... you wanna try it? Topping, I mean?"

Peter snorted. "Not just topping, silly. That thing you specifically mentioned - seeing how much I could make, for you? I've been keepin' myself on edge, saving up all my cum for you." Tony shivered, goosebumps forming down the entire length of his arms. Peter's breath left his hair on edge, his words burning straight through Tony.

"I... I remember. Are- are you sure? Like I said, I mean, we don't hav-" Peter cut him off almost immediately.

"If I didn't want to do it, baby, why would I bring it up? Why would I spend almost a month edging myself for you? Why would I spend a month intentionally eating semen-enhancing foods, hmm? You think I was doing all that stuff for the hell of it?" Tony blushed at the words, head dropping to Peter's shoulder. "No, of course not, I ju-"

"You need to stop making excuses." Peter pulled back, meeting Tony's eyes. "If I didn't want to do this, I wouldn't have brought it up. Wouldn't have spent so long making sure I was full enough, had enough for you. You know how long it's been since I've cum, T, baby? Twenty seven days. It's been twenty seven days of edging, of producing this-" he reached down, gently cupping his own balls through his shorts "- for you? All of this cum, just waiting for you, waiting for your pretty hole?" Tony shivered at the words. Fuck, Peter knew exactly how to work him up.

"I'm sorry, baby, I just- this is a lot. So much, Pete, you gotta know that." His vulnerability was aparent.

"I know, Tones. We can go slow if you want - we won't do anything. Just want to show you i'm willing." Peter's tone was gentle, reassuring. It helped Tony immesurably.

"I- okay. I want to. Try, I mean. I trust you, we just gotta.. Gotta go slow. I'm an old man, you know." Peter knew it was said in jest, but Tony would always have a soft spot in his heart. "Not that old," he poked.

Tony bit back with a kiss, forgoing words he wasn't sure he could find. It was slow, soft at first - a thank you for everything Peter did for him, for the whole situation.

Peter responded eagerly, taste of grenadine and carbonation on his lips. Thank god, he hadn't been drinking. Something Tony'd always appreciate - Peter's sober excitement. The energy he put into their relationship. The devotion. He balanced Tony out perfectly.

Peter nipped at his bottom lip. It was sweet - playful, but it made the whole thing so much more intense. Tony responded in kind, licking into his mouth. He pulled a quiet moan from Peter, seizing the opportunity to meet the other's tongue. Passion always took a while to build with them - reverence and love always taking priority.

Today, though... Today was different.

Tony's mind was still going steady, trying to process exactly what they were about to do. Peter really wanted to try this with him. It was groundbreaking.

He felt the excitement burn low in his stomach. He'd always had a thing for cum - whether it was his inside someone, or vice versa - there was just something so visceral about it. Watching it slowly drip from someone's hole, sucking it out, sharing it. The idea of breeding someone, of being bred, having cum forced inside him over and over again, without consequence...

He'd tried to keep his love for it under wraps - Pepper had no real want for children, and god forbid he get wrapped up in a custody battle. He hadn't messed around with other men since his twenties, either, so the opportunity to explore this side of him just... never came up.

But now, with Peter - his most beloved supertwink with a refactory period of, like, -1, and his enhanced output... the possibilities washed over him.

He hadn't realized just how turned on it made him until Peter separated them, hands toying with Tony's waistband. The sudden lack of lips on his gave him the opportunity to express his appreciation - several broken moans escaping him. "Oh god, Peter, baby please."

He never claimed to be above begging, but he didn't do it often. It was a sight to behold, and with Peter being on a hair trigger...

Peter reached up, grabbing Tony by the throat. "What do you want, love? Use your words, tell me. Can't give you what you want if you don't use your words, Tony."

Tony dropped his head, gasping into Peter's neck. "Please, Peter, baby. I need you to fuck me."

Peter laughed, breathy. "Can't hear you, baby. Come on, come up and tell me what you want."

Tony looked up, shaky exhale falling onto Peter's lips. "I. Need you. To fuck me. Please, Pete?" His request was met with a smile. "Of course, baby."

Peter reached down and hooked under Tony's thighs, lifting him up like he weighed nothing. Tony often forgot about Peter's strength when they weren't in the field - feeling weightless like this, safe in Peter's arms? It was erotic, it was safe, it was everything. "Oh, god."

Peter took them to the bedroom, carefully setting Tony down on the bed.

Tony reached his arms up, snaking around Peter's neck. He brought them together for another kiss, not wanting to lose contact with Peter.

Peter chuckled, carefully peeling Tony away from him. "We can't do this if you don't let me get naked, T. Be patient." Tony rolled his eyes, allowing his fists to fall back to the bed. "Been patient, need you now." Peter tossed his shirt to the floor before dignifying Tony with a response.

"Don't talk to me about patient, mister. I've gone almost a month without coming, how do you think I feel?" He finished removing his jeans, leaving him in nothing but strained boxer briefs. Tony could see the outline of his cock, already leaking. He was nearly as hard in his own pants - which he was suddenly excited to remove.

Peter, perceptive as always, walked toward Tony and began helping him strip. Now shirtless, Tony reached up to place his hands on Peter's chest. He planted small kisses all over it, worshipping the man in front of him. Peter threaded his fingers through Tony's hair, enjoying the attention. "I thought this was about you, baby. Why you takin' your time with me?"

Tony looked up, smiling at the man above him. "Just thankful, is all. Love you." Peter cupped the sides of his face, reaching down and kissing Tony reverently. "Anything for you, baby. Anything. Now, let's get you out of those pants." Tony fiddled with his zipper, tugging the slacks down to his ankles before kicking them to the side. Now in a similar state as Peter, he felt so much more open, exposed. They were really about to do this. Peter had prepared for this. His dream was finally coming true.

He inhaled sharply, feeling the flush of arousal reach his cock. It was so intense, so much all at once - he felt high. This was definitely not an experience he planned on forgetting anytime soon.

Peter straddled him, shifting them back and up the bed. He met Tony halfway, sighing into the kiss. It was firey, full of hunger - neither really wanted to wait anymore.

Peter pulled back, meeting Tony's eyes. "Are you ready? You sure about this?" Tony nodded his head, mind too cloudy to use words right away. He was ready about this, so fucking ready.

His face must've said everything - Peter quickly helped him out of his boxers, sliding them down and tossing them next to the towels. He grabbed the bottle of lube he set out, wetting his fingers thoroughly before reaching down.

Tony'd opted to lay on his front, knees tucked under his hips for better access. Thank god for a nanite bed - they'd developed the tech to aid healing times and recovery after surgery and intense (battles) workouts, but quickly discovered the many sexual uses for it - one of which being added support for Tony's joints.

Peter traced over his hole, toying with him a moment. He very rarely topped in general, but he'd be willing to do it for the rest of his life if it meant he could see Tony like this. He was already so sensitive, gasping and rocking back into the attention. Peter laughed, gripping Tony's hip harder and steeling him before teasing his rim. He was so gentle - just barely dipping in with his index finger before massaging around and pulling back out. He wanted this to be good for Tony, not just a check off his bucket list.

Tony keened, hips pushing back into Peter's fingers. Greedy. "Relax, T. Let me do the work, okay baby?" All he received was a high whimper in response.

Peter laughed, rolling his eyes as he finally gave Tony what he wanted - he thrust two fingers in, careful not to go too deep to fast. Tony moaned, pitchy and high in his throat. It was so much better than he remembered.

Peter kneaded Tony's ass with his free hand, mouthing praise into his beautiful cheeks. Who knew he'd be such a service top? Peter certainly didn't, but he was definitely enjoying it.

He twisted his fingers, feeling around for Tony's prostate. When he found it he pushed, gently, redirecting his attention toward giving Tony the best prostate massage of his life. Tony instantly jumped, gasping into the sensation. Peter's fingers were just long enough to reach, just dextrous enough to keep him on edge. Tony fisted at the sheets, at Peter's shoulder - it was so much. Why did he ever stop bottoming?

He rediscovered his voice shortly after. "Fuck, Pete baby please, need you to fuck me now. Wanna cum on your cock, can't wait anymore. Please baby, please, need you." He was babbling, desperate and not willing to hide it anymore.

Peter, nearly as fucked out, conceeded. They were planning on going multiple times tonight, anyway, why not get the first orgasm out of the way? He pulled his fingers from Tony, wiping them off on one of the nearby towels. Good job, Parker.

Tony whined at the emptiness, still so unabashedly needy. Peter smiled to himself. He'd never seen Tony like this before, and he was so happy he was the one to do this to him. Tony was known for his stoicism and poker face - for Peter to be able to tear that wall down so easily? It was a pride point, for sure.

He reached for the bottle of lube again, coating himself in the cool liquid as he stroked. It didn't take much to get him ready - he felt like he'd been hard for eons, and wasn't thrilled with the whole "waiting" thing.

Peter rubbed over his hole again, smirking when Tony instinctively clenched around nothing. He sat up on his knees, easing himself into the man in front of him. Tony immediately dropped from his elbows, moaning as Peter sank all the way inside. It was so much better than he'd imagined - Peter wasn't particularly lengthy or girthy, but it felt like he was made for Tony. Designed specifically to fuck into Tony's hole, and to wreck him as he did it.

It literally brought Tony to his knees, arching back into Peter's touch and begging him to move. "Please, Peter, baby, give it to me. I can take it, whatever you give me, please, just please I need you to move. I need you to fuck me, baby, please."

it was enough to convince Peter. He pulled back, forcing himself all the way back with a quick snap of his hips. Tony moaned, broken and desperate. It was slowly becoming his mo - who knew Tony Stark was such a slut for his baby's cock, for his cum?

Apparently Peter'd been thinking out loud. He tended to do that during sex - couldn't keep his mouth shut, and whatever "filter" he had completely flew out the window. "Yeah? You like it when I fuck you, T? Like the idea of me cumming inside your pretty little hole? Wanna feel my cum leak out of you, baby? How much do you think i'll give you today, hmm? You do the math on it? I did. I did a whole fuck ton, just to see how much I'd give you.

"You wanna know how much cum I'll give you, T? Hmm? Math says it'll be 1000 mils the first time, can you imagine that? One thousand mililiters of cum, in your pretty little hole. Leaking out, drippin' all down your thighs? You're such a slut, can't even stay tight long enough to hold my cum inside. What a little cockslut, you are. Who would've thought?

"We already know how many times I can go. What was our max, like 8? Imagine eight of those fat loads inside you, love. Can you feel it? Can you feel me inside you? You're so tight, Tony, but you won't be when I'm done with you. No, I'm gonna stuff you full and leave you like this, leave you to feel as it runs out of you.

"Or maybe, maybe, I'll leave you here. I'll wipe you off, get you all clean. Then maybe I'll run over, grab one of our plugs. Plug your pretty little ass, leave you full of my cum. How about that? You like the sound of that?"

He did, by god Tony did. The sound of it, the sheer idea of being so full, so heavy with Peter's cum inside him... being plugged, and left to suffer..

It had him cumming embarassingly early. Tony typically prided himself on his stamina - stamina that was nonexistent with Peter's words.

He came, slack and broken, with Peter's name on his lips. He felt his own cum splatter on his stomach. It was pathetic, it was nothing compared to what Peter was going to give him. It was humiliating in the best way imaginable.

Peter groaned, gritting his teeth as he felt Tony tighten through his orgasm. It was too much, he was so on edge after waiting so long.

It was nearly painful when he finally came. He could feel his balls tighten, feel the fluid flowing through him and spraying out the other side. He felt like a fucking firehose, orgasm lasting nearly a full minute.

He felt like a popped balloon after, useless after being so thoroughly empty.

It was made perfectly fine, though, by Tony's rising stomach.

This might have been the first load, and it was probably going to be the biggest of them all, but Peter was still shocked at just how much of an impact it made. Tony's stomach grew, near a solid inch as Peter continued pumping into him. The more he thrust, the larger he got - Peter continued to thrust into him until it was painful.

When he pulled out, a healthy amount surged from Tony's abused hole, covering the sheets beneath them. Peter snagged a towel in time to catch it, not wanting it to soak through to the mattress. It took several to handle the mess in front of him, and by the time he was done Tony was nearly asleep.

Peter stood, walking over to their dresser. He opened the top drawer, removing one of their smaller plugs. There was zero resistence when he slid it inside Tony, preventing the rest of him from escaping.

Tony hummed, content. "When do you think you'll be ready to go again? Because I definitely need a nap." He hadn't opened his eyes, but he still blindly reached out for Peter.

He smiled, sinking down into Tony's arms. "Wake me up when you do. I'll be ready."

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sketching-shark · 3 years

Note

I think we should start a protection squad (although they don’t need it because they can protect themselves) for Sun Wukong and Guanyin

“Begone monkie kid fandom trying to down grade these really interesting characters with interesting personality’s and backstory ( the both of them like seriously Guanyin backstory is so cool) to a villain wile trying to justify your angsty backstory (that are no where near as cool as monkey who fights gods and Person who has 1000 arms and heads to help people in need) for the actual villain”

So who wants to join

Me:*raises my hand*

Ps: sorry if I got Guanyin backstory wrong am not an expert on it.

Haha okay so some critiques on the jttw & associated media western fandom & fandom in general coming up, so please skip this upcoming text wall if you don't want to encounter my undoubtedly ~devastating~ words (i.e. don't like don't read as people love to say, & if I have to be inundated with images of my notp every time I go into the sun wukong tag then I imagine people can be chill with me expressing my opinions & giving people fair warning that I WILL be critiquing common fandom trends, but no need for you to see that if you don’t want to. Cool? Cool.)

-----

PFFFFFTTT oh man there are many times when I feel like signing up for such a protection squad...when it comes to the current western jttw & Sun Wukong fandom I do feel like I'm often swinging at a rapid pace between "well it's fandom & people are allowed to make the stories they want" & "I am once again begging my fellow monkie kid enthusiasts (& sometimes creators) to do more research into the og classic/show it more respect so you can avoid any potentially offensive/off-the-mark misunderstandings of the status & cultural context of the characters in their country of origin (I promise it's super interesting & I can provide you with links to free pdf copies of the entire Yu translation, i.e. the best one ever created, so feel free to ask!) & maybe also stop constantly stripping away all the nuance of Sun Wukong's character for the sake of either making him an entire asshole so your little meow meow can look completely innocent in comparison and/or making the monkey king's entire life & character revolve around said meow meow."

Like I get that fandom's supposed to be a kind of anything-goes environment, but one thing that honestly seems to be true of a lot of fandoms--and the western one for Sun Wukong & co. is certainly not immune from this--is that there often seems to be a kind of monoculturalization at work in what stories are created & what character interpretations are made popular. Across a multitude of fandoms, you frequently see basically nothing but the exact same tropes being made popular & even being insisted on for the canonical work (especially hasty redemption arcs & enemies to lovers these days), the exact same one-dimensional character types that characters from an original work keep getting shoved into, the exact same story beats, etc. And I get it to an extent, as fandom is generally a space where people just make art and fic for fun & without thinking too hard about it & without any pressure.

This seems to, however, often unfortunately lead to the mentality that it’s your god-given right to do literally whatever you want with literally any cultural figure without even the slightest bit of thought put into their cultural, historical, and even religious context, even (and sometimes especially) when it comes to figures that are really important in a culture outside your own. For such figures--even if you first encounter them in a children’s cartoon--you should be a little more careful with what you do with them than you would with your usual Saturday morning line-up. It of course has to be acknowledged that there exists a whole pile of absolutely ridiculous & cursed pieces of media that are based on Journey to the West & that were produced in mainland China, but for your own education if nothing else I consider it good practice for those of us (myself certainly included) who aren’t part of the culture that produced JTTW to put more thought into how we might want to portray these characters so that at the very least (to pull some things I’ve seen from the jttw western fandom) we’re not turning a goddess of mercy into an evil figure for the sake of Angst(TM), or relegating other important literary figures into the positions of offensive stereotypes, or making broad claims about the source text & original characterizations of various figures that are blatantly untrue, or mocking heavenly deities because of what’s actually your misunderstanding of how immortality works according to Daoist beliefs. Yet while a lot of this is often due to people not even trying to understand the context these figures are coming from, I do want to acknowledge that the journey (lol reference) to understand even a fraction of the original cultural context can be a daunting one, especially since, as I’ve mentioned before, it can be really hard & even next to impossible to find good, accessible, & legitimate explanations in English of how, for example, the relationship between Sun Wukong and the Six-Eared Macaque is commonly interpreted in China & according to the Buddhist beliefs that define the original work.

That is to say, I do think it’s an unfortunate, if unavoidable, part of any introduction of an original text into a culture foreign to its own for there to be sometimes a significant amount of misinterpretation, mistranslations, and false assumptions. There is, however, a big difference between learning from your honest mistakes, & doubling down on them while dismissing all criticism of your misinterpretation into that abstract category of “fandom drama.” The latter attitude is kind of shitty at best and horrifically entitled at worst.

Plus, as I’ve discovered, there is a great deal of interest and joy to be drawn from keeping yourself open to learning aspects of these texts & figures that you weren’t aware of! I can say from my own experience that I’ve always really enjoyed & appreciated it when individuals on this site who come from a Chinese background--and who know much more about the cultural context of JTTW than me--have taken the time to explain its various aspects. It often leaves me feeling like woooooaaaahhhhhHHH!!!! as to how amazingly full of nuanced meaning JTTW is like dang no wonder it’s one of China’s Four Great Classical Novels.

And I guess that right there is the heart of a lot of my own personal frustration and disappointment with the ways that fandoms often approach a literary work or other piece of media...like don’t get me wrong, a lot of the original works a fandom may grow around are just straight-up goofy & everyone’s aware of it & has fun with it, yet the trend of approaching what are often nuanced and multi-layered works in terms of how well they fit and/or can be shoved into pretty cliche ideas of Redemption Arc or Enemies to Lovers or Hero Actually Bad, Villain Actually Good etc...well, it just seems to cheapen and even erase even the possibility of understanding the wonderful complexity or even endearing simplicity that made these works so beloved in the first place. Again, I feel like I need to make it clear that I’m not saying fandom should be a space where people are constantly trying to one-up each other with their hot takes in literary analysis, but it would be nice and even beneficial to allow room for commentary that strives to approach these works in a multi-faceted way, analysis & interpretations that go against the popular fandom beliefs, & criticism of the work or even of fandom trends (yes it is in fact possible to legitimately love something but still be critical of its aspects) instead of immediately attacking people who try to engage in such as just being haters who don’t want anyone to have fun ever (X_X).

----

Anyway, I know I didn’t cover even half of the stuff you brought up in the first place anon, but I don’t want any interested parties to this post to suffer too long through my text wall lol. I was asked to try my hand at illustrating Guanyin, but as with you I’m nowhere near as informed as I should be about her, so I want to do more research on her history and religious importance before I attempt a portrait. I’ll try my best, and do plan to pair that illustration with my own outsider’s attempt to summarize her character. From what little I do know I am in full agreement that her backstory is so incredibly amazing...just the fact that she literally eschewed the bliss of Nirvana to help all beings reach it, and even split herself into pieces in the attempt to do so (with Buddha granting her eleven heads and a thousand arms as a result)...man, I can see why she’s such a beloved & respected deity.

----

As for what western fandom commonly does with everyone’s favorite god-fighting primate...I can talk about this at length if there’s interest, but for this post I’ll just say that I guess one lesson from all of this is that for all the centuries that have passed since Journey to the West was first completed, literally no one drawing inspiration from the original tale in the west (lol) has come even slightly close to being able to equal or even capture half the extent of the nuance, complexity, religious, historical, and cultural aspects, and humor that define Wu Cheng'en's story of an overpowered monkey who defied even Buddha.

So thank the heavens we'll always have the original.

#journey to the west #jttw #guanyin #sun wukong #monkey king #monkie kid #fandom #fandom critical

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grey-water-colors · 3 years

Text

After All This Time (Bucky Barnes X Fem!Reader) Part 2

I went ahead and wrote the second chapter, I was so excited. I did a lot of research on PTSD and the triggers. I may not have a full grasp on it, but I hope I at least got some of it right. I feel kinda iffy on writing the characters, but I did my best to stay true to who they are. I hope you like this chapter!

Summary: The real world is a scary place, even more so when you’re alone. You live alone in a apartment filed with the ghosts of your memories. You’ve both changed since you last met your fiancé, but can love mend the gap after all this time.

Pairing: Bucky X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of torture, violence, yelling. Talks about triggers and PTSD. Mentions of death and killing. If there are any that I missed please let me know!

Word Count: 2,492

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Steve, I don’t understand why you’re dragging me out here to this museum.”

“They told me that they made a new addition to the Captain America exhibit and I didn’t want to go alone.”

Bucky clenched his vibranium hand and continued to follow Steve. “Did they at least tell you what it’s about?”

Steve sighed, “No, they didn’t. I wish they had though, I hate going into these things blind. Who knows what they’ve dug up.

“Steve, did you find it?”

“Uh, yeah Buck. I don’t think you want to see it though. It’s something they had no business digging in”

“What is it Steve. And don’t even think of lying to me, I know you too well.”

Steve sighed and led Bucky to the new exhibit. A memorial just like Bucky’s, but it was dedicated to Y/N L/N.

Bucky scoffed but read it out loud anyways. “Y/N L/N was a childhood friend of both Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Y/N met the two in 1923 and they were close ever since. In 1941 record says that she became engaged to Sargent Barnes, but never married. Y/N was drafted as an Army Nurse but died in Germany in 1944.” A picture of her before the war and in a case were her dog tags, which was weird. If she hadn’t been found, how were her tags here.

Bucky trailed off, the rest just going on about what kind of person she was. They stood in silence for a while, both staring at her picture. Steve finally broke the silence, “How much of her do you remember?”

Bucky looked away and tried to remember the girl in front of him. Flashes of smiles, tears, and laughter floated through his head, but he could only focus on one memory.

“I don’t remember her before the war.” Steve’s head moved to look at Bucky so fast that his neck cracked.

“What do you mean before the war Buck.”

He looked at Steve and backed up until he could collapse on a bench. A deep breath then, “I remember seeing her when I was the Winter Soldier. I vaguely remember a mission, maybe a couple, and then an order. I couldn’t help myself. All I could do was watch as I choked her to death, them dragging her away after declaring her dead.”

He shook his head as if he could erase the memory, make it disappear to never see again.

“If you killed her-“ Steve paused, “If you went on missions with her then she didn’t die in 1944. She was captured by Hydra. Then there could be a possibility that she, well that she could still be alive. Could it be possible that it was staged? Buck is there any chance at all that she could still be alive?”

Bucky shook his head again and looked at his hands. “I felt it Steve, I felt her neck crush. There’s no way she survived that.”

He took a deep sigh and felt the world shift, his heart plummeted to the ground as he realized the full gravity of what happened. “Oh god. Oh god, I killed her. I killed my fiancé, Steve.”

Steve just sat down next to Bucky, still in shock. She had been a good friend to Steve. They had come from similar backgrounds, hell they had grown up together, she understood him in a way that Bucky never could have at the time. She had been there when needed and even when she wasn’t. A ray of sunshine in a dreary New York. He had taken a picture of them after Bucky had proposed. They were all so happy.

It shook Steve to his core that Hydra had gotten their hands on her. He couldn’t imagine the horrors that she had gone through, might still be going through much like his best friend. Was she as much of a shell as Bucky?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It felt good to walk into her apartment without having to break in. She had hassled every office and bank that had her name in its databases to get her back as a registered live, human being. And to get electricity and water going to her place.

She had already been living in the apartment, but now she could cook, light a fire, and make noise. With her accounts opened again, she bought a couple pairs of clothes to wear while she cleaned the place.

Starting with the kitchen she cleaned every surface, threw away all the canned food that had been left behind.

By the time she had finished cleaning, she was physically exhausted, but she couldn’t bring herself to sleep in the master bedroom. She had managed to turn off her emotions for the day. No tears had been spilled because there had been work to get done. But her new superpower didn’t work now that she had nothing to do. Y/N stood in the middle of the living room desperately trying to stuff her emotions back into the box they had been in, but they had seen their chance and taken it.

Tears filled her eyes and she took her first real look around the place she had once called home. It was like she had never left at all. A place for everything and everything in its place. She turned to face the worn leather wingback. The thick blanket draped over the back just like it always had. She shuffled over to the chair and sat down in it. The leather was cold but familiar with the smell of her life before the war. Ghosts of days past floated through the air around her. She curled up in the chair, thick blanket pulled over her.

Things had been so easy then, and it would be so easy now to just fall back into that time when everything was perfect. Except the person that had helped make it perfect wasn’t here. A tear fell from her cheek onto the leather, and she quickly brushed it off not wanting to ruin the chair.

As she was wallowing in self-pity, a fight broke out on the street below her window, voices piercing the air and pulling her back to a place she never wanted to go again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Project Cecilia had become a nightmare. A nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. The project was a testing ground of trial and error. They tested the trial serums, triggers, enforcers, and everything else to make sure that they wouldn’t damage whoever took the role of Winter Soldier. The project was named after the scientist who did most of the testing.

The serums were bad, it felt like lighting her blood on fire, like hell itself was inside her. But trigger testing was far worse. For every test or experiment, a trigger experiment came after. Is sound more effective than smell? Are words better than sounds? What kind of words work better than others?

Trial and error for over 30 different types of triggers until they settled on a list of words that would mean something to the Winter Soldier. Her mind was blocked off so carefully that she couldn’t remember anything before the last trigger.

Here she was, testing how much electricity a super soldier could take before things started to shut down. And then the doctor walked in. Constantine Cecilia was the man who haunted her dreams. She couldn’t ever quite remember who he was, but somehow she knew that when he arrived, things would be bad.

“How is our little rabbit doing today? I believe a congratulations are in order, you finished testing.”

He put on plastic gloves and his assistant walked up to them both. “She’s due for sound this time.”

The doctor smiled. “Good good.”

Things were going well; the set-up went smoothly. She was ready to receive the trigger, the thing her mind would take as a trauma to seal away all of the bad.

But then a fight broke out, and then people were yelling, screaming at each other. The trigger was set.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shuri had done her best at getting rid of the physical effect of the triggers, and by best, she was completely successful. Unfortunately, there was still an emotional effect that came with the triggers. Certain smells, sounds, colors, and even sometimes emotions would send her spiraling into a memory. Most were memories that terrified her, they brought her back to Hydra and their torture. Some were good, like remembering life before the war.

They happened less at home, surrounded by memories of a past that never hurt. The outside world was what tortured her. Going outside was like sentencing herself to relive the worst of her life.

And she remembered it all. Hydra had done such a good job of playing Tetris with her brain that every time that Shuri released a trigger, she remembered everything. Y/N bet that Dr. Cecilia was laughing in his grave at her tragedy.

Y/N fell asleep under the thick blanket on the chair of the man she had loved more than anything else in the whole world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N decided to visit the Veterans Center, hoping that they magically had the cure for what Shuri called PTSD. She walked inside and was met with the smell of burnt coffee and laughter down the hall. She followed the noise until she came to what looked like a break room, or a very poor excuse for a kitchen.

A tall man took notice of her and he excused himself to go talk to her.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“I, uhh, came here to talk to someone, hopefully.” Y/N cursed herself for feeling so small. She was a veteran after all. She just fought in a different war.

“Are you a vet?”

“Yes?”

He smiled, “Well then welcome. My name is Sam Wilson. I help run this place. Mostly I work with the people though. Business isn’t really my style.”

Y/N gave a weak smile.

Sam spoke up again, much to her relief. “Why don’t we go somewhere to talk so we aren’t standing in a door way.”

She merely nodded and followed Sam to a room with foldable chairs and a couple beat up sofas.

After they had sat down, and awkward silence filled the air. Sam cleared his throat, “So what’s your name?”

Y/N took a deep breath and “My name is Y/N”

Sam nodded. “What war did you serve in Y/N?”

She froze, of course she could just answer him. She heard there was a whole museum dedicated to the two oldest people on the planet, so why was it so hard?

“You don’t have to tell me if you aren’t comfortable with it. I’m not going to force you into anything here. It’s a safe place.” The genuinely caring smile on his face helped her relax.

“I fought in World War II.”

Sam looked startled for a second. “Excuse me?”

“I was a nurse with the Red Cross in World War II.”

She watched as Sam’s shoulders dropped. Y/N prepared to fight, to tell him that it was true, without going through the horrors that she had witnessed. She prepared to give him the riot act like she had for every person who hadn’t believed her at the bank and social security office.

Instead, he started laughing. “Man, I wonder how many more of you there are out there,” Sam said between breaths.

The look of confusion on her face must have put more puzzle pieces together for him at how lost she really was.

“You… You actually believe me?”

“Yeah I do! I work with the other two.”

She suddenly felt cold, like someone had just dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. While Shuri had told her about James, or Bucky, and about Steve and how they both lived in New York in the Avengers Compound, it had never occurred to her that they were so close. So close, yet so far away. Her heart dropped.

“How exactly do you know them? You said you worked with them, so you must be an Avenger I suppose.”

“How much do you know about this time and place?”

She felt, for the first time since she left Wakanda, that someone understood. Only a fraction maybe, but an understanding all the same. Sam somehow knew that she didn’t know much about the present she found herself in. She didn’t really care to learn either though, the world was scary, and she had to face it alone for the first time in her life.

“Not much. I’ve only been off ice for about 9 and a half months now. Most of that was spent in Wakanda, while Shuri worked on getting rid of my triggers.” The more she talked the more Sam’s face filled with understanding and horror and that scared her.

“You were captured by Hydra weren’t you?”

All she could do was nod, her head held low.

“I won’t ask about that. I know better than that. I can’t even begin to imagine the horrors you’ve been through.

“Well, I’m the Falcon, I fly and I see things really well with my goggles. Other than that I’m just a human, no serum or anything.”

It was like all she could do was nod her head, she had been robbed of words.

“Would it be ok if I went home?”

“Of course! Nothing is keeping you here. I’m glad we met, and you’re more than welcome to come by anytime at all. We do close at 9 pm, but here’s my phone number if you need anything after those hours.”

More nodding. Y/N rushed home.

The first thing she did was climb into the chair, drape the blanket over her, and tell a ghost of what happened.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sam are you ok? You seem distracted today”

“Yeah. Yeah man I’m good.” Sam looked at Steve for a minute. “Say have you ever met someone named Y/N L/N? She came into the VA today and when I asked what war she fought in she said WWII. She was captured by Hydra. I didn’t press her on it, she got that same look that Bucky does when it gets brought up.”

Steve froze. “What was her name?”

“Y/N L/N, do you know her?”

“Are you sure about what you told me?”

“Yeah. Why? What’s going on?”

“What did she look like?”

“She had H/L hair and E/C eyes. She was about yay-tall” Sam held up a hand to about her height. “Again, do you know her?”

“I promise I’ll tell you later, but I gotta go.”

Steve took off running through the compound until he got to Bucky’s door. He hadn’t seen Bucky since the museum, but this was important. He pounded on the door, “Buck! Bucky! Open the door!”

A quiet mumbled “Go away Steve” came as a response.

“Bucky,” Steve pleaded. “She’s alive. Sam met her today.”

Silence.

Then the door opened. “Where?”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky fic #mcu #x reader #x female reader #marvel #marvel imagine #bucky barnes au #reader insert #mcu imagine #marvel universe #the avengers

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psychic-war-in-the-usa · 3 years

Text

The Horse Tamer’s Son: Magpies

This whole thing started because Dean and Dad doing research is like multiplying by zero. Sam can actually take reasonable notes instead of copying, write neatly for later, and read for hours without falling to pieces. Plus, as Dad likes to remind Sam, reading and research is best left to women. And if any magic that wasn’t strictly required was to be used, it was the domain of women...or worse. So Sam, eager to help, had taken on the burden of research, notes, reading, everything they actually needed to know for each hunt they were going on. After all, Dad wanted him to join in, and Dean certainly couldn’t help on this. And the job was just like homework, right? Except it was for the family.

Dad should have never given it to him. There was the information that Dad and Dean needed, written up cleanly on notebook paper, double spaced, sifted out of book after book, but it was the other information Sam treasured. Most of the books assumed you were trying to do the things in them -- perform rituals, use magic, understand the world around you. The authors of the books were Godly people, after all, so it couldn’t be doing any harm, right? Magic’s just for girls, after all...and to Dad, that was what Sam was. The pretty little girl, the old ball and chain.

Sam had taken up divination recently, especially since he’d wanted to keep track of Dean and Dad while they were gone. Pendulums and cards were first, but water scrying was getting easier, even if it sometimes made his head hurt and his muscles ache in nervous tension. But he hadn’t been sure how to get into augury, until he and Dean had been set to flattening shell casings for scrap money a few weeks ago.

They were in Idaho now, and the shell casings Sam had skimmed had served him well. The local magpies weren’t going to get any food from him, and he wasn’t giving up high-value coins to get them interested. But casings were just the thing for good, clever birds, a reasonable price for augury. At first, a few of them would wait and watch for Sam, wondering if they could get anything out of the small human. When they referred to him as a girl, however, Sam chased them off, shrieking between his teeth with rage until they got it right. He was a boy, nothing else. Especially when Dad was out.

Now, each of the three blocks to and from the bus stop served as a separate panel, allowing for more complex messages to be related daily, each written down in Sam’s working notebook. The most common arrangements were 5-4-2, indicating Dean had gotten something for them to eat that night, and 6-4-2, which indicated Sam was going to come home to an empty room and have a blessedly quiet evening to himself. Sometimes, there was 4-1-5, which was, to Sam’s mind, the worst message you could receive -- Dad was home, and it was back to being a girl until Dad was gone out again.

Tonight, there was a new pattern. 2-4, that sounded good, though whether it was going to refer to him or Dean, he wasn’t sure. Until he got to the third block. Six would be normal, but there were more birds tonight. Two more, to be exact. Eight…

Seven’s Heaven, eight is Hell And nine’s the Devil his own self.

Sam’s hand dove into his pocket for his lucky paperweight, then darted to his neck, checking the lines of leather and chain that meant his scapular and his Mary. Could he run fast enough? Would he be safe inside? Was Dean home or wasn’t he?

A man now stood in front of him, just far away enough to talk easily, but not so close Sam could stick him and run.

“I’m sorry for scaring you.” the man said. Sam was pretty sure his name was Rod, and that Dean argued with him about girls when he was home…

“Demons lie.” Sam snapped. Something good about the oversize clothing he wore was that other people couldn’t see him tense.

“It was an accident.” Rod-who-is-not-Rod says, looking as awkward and clumsy as usual, though in a slightly different way. “I saw you were upset, so I...I was thinking maybe I could give you a present. I don’t want anything--”

“Bullshit.” Sam said, his voice an angry hiss. “Can’t get something for nothing.”

“I can make you a boy.” the demon says. “That’s what you want, right? I don’t want your soul, or anything. I just want to give you something nice.”

The whiny sulk in the demon’s voice sounds exactly like Rod, though whether it’s because of the possession or because of the actual demon’s emotions is unclear. But what he’s promising…

“Demons don’t do something for nothing.”

“Well...yeah…” The demon-Rod’s face falls, as if he’s trying to make the best of a bad situation. “But you get stuff for nothing from us. We like you. You’re...” he shrugs, and Sam is wondering if he could be forgiven for stabbing this one.

“My dad hunts demons.” Sam said. “And he’ll get you too, when I tell him.”

“I can get you your body. Plus a fifty percent discount!” Rod-not-Rod says, way too chirpily for a demon, or for ninety percent of Rod’s interactions with humanity at large. “You’re gonna be our king one day. So maybe we could...it’s not fair, you being all...”

“Like this.” Like a girl. Like being too short to reach anything. Like not being strong enough, physically strong, to stand up to bullies, or Dean, or Dad. Like having a voice that sounds like a mouse trying to do public speaking for the first time.

The demon began to detail its plan in typical Rod fashion -- loudly and slowly, as though ordering over the phone.

And Sam listened.

#my fic #trans stuff #black hematite

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batfamscreaming · 3 years

Text

Winter Break in Kansas [80s AU] 1/2

Bruce bade goodbye to Tommy and Harvey without telling them anything of his own plans for the holiday break.

(....both of them looked gaunt. Holidays hadn’t even begun. They didn’t muster much enthusiasm for the goodbye, and Bruce didn’t make them.)

He didn’t put on the hat or scarf until they were a good distance out of the building, where the other two wouldn’t see, and bundled himself up unrecognizably as best he could.

Nodded.

“Let’s go.”

Clark slung his backpack over his shoulder and started down the stairs where they could get a cab to the bus stop.

“Have you ever been to Kansas before?”

Bruce shook his head.

“No,” he said, tugging out a few dollars from his pocket and shoving them towards Clark.

He’d pay.

Clark took them without argument after seeing how that worked during Halloween.

Into the cab they went.

“Don’t blame you. Nothin’ there.” He joked, and away they went.

A cab to the bus station.

Then the bus to Kansas.

It would be a day’s ride.

Bruce had packed books.

...they had agreed, even if silently and grudgingly, that they would just have to give up on their research for the duration of the break.

...on the up side, they would finally have a little time to read what they wanted to, at least.

He tugged out two crime thrillers, passing one to Clark, along with one of the lunches-to-go he’d bought at the cafeteria for the trip.

For the first hour or so, he sat up primly, despite his disguise.

And then, as the bus ride kept going…

He tugged his legs up under himself and curled up in the seat with his book, letting himself lean a little into Clark’s shoulder when the seat was cramped, finally looking content.

Clark let him lean into him as much as he wanted, especially considering the crampedness of the seats.

He read a little and ate some of their packed lunch, and then for a lot of the ride he dozed. Riding in a bus or car had that constant hum that drowned a lot out that was easy to focus on and sleep to. It was better than the erratic noise of the city, that was for sure.

As they went on, the bus taking occasional breaks at rest stops, the hills died down and things became increasingly flat.

And then, early the next morning, they pulled in to their stop.

“Here we are.” Clark mumbled, grabbing their bags from overhead and passing Bruce his as they climbed off.

...it was surreal.

Absolutely surreal.

For someone like Bruce who had grown up with always something blocking the horizon, the sheer flatness of the world around him left him feeling a little… disoriented.

Vulnerable, even.

But he kept the hat and scarf on, holding his bags and exhausted from the bumpy ride, and followed Clark closely as he climbed off the bus.

Clark barely had to even look around before he motioned for Bruce to follow, ducking around the other people climbing off the bus. He went right to an old station wagon with a man stood leaning on the hood, arms crossed to keep in the warmth and an old truckers cap on his head. When he saw them he stood and waved.

“Hey Pa.” Clark smiled, and hugged him as a woman with dirty blonde hair opened the door and stepped out of the passenger side.

“There’s my baby boy.” She cooed, already grabbing Clark and kissing his cheeks while he groaned and protested.

“You must be Bruce?” Jon said, extending a rough hand towards him. “You can call me Jon. Clark’s father.”

His face was sun scorned and wrinkled less from age and more from working outside every day of his life, his hair cut short and dark brown.

He had that feeling again. Like he was floating, somewhere else entirely, only partly aware of what was happening in front of him. Only sort-of involved.

It was a familiar one, even if school sometimes lessened it. Sometimes.

He was hoping it would leave if he left Gotham. But here it was. Right away. Watching Clark run to his mother or her run to him, and his dad, and hugging--

He took the father’s hand, shook it, and said, “Bruce Wayne,” in the voice that was bigger than he felt in his head.

“So Clark tells me. Quite the name back out East.” He said, giving Bruce a firm handshake.

When Martha was finished embarrassing her son she walked over to Bruce. “I'm Martha, now let's get you boys where it's warm.” She put an arm around Bruce and gestured for him to get into the back where Clark was already piling in.

Oh.

He felt dizzy. And tight. His jaw tightened the smile onto his face to keep it there, even as his heartbeat rocketed up, until it was pounding in his ears.

(Waking nightmare)

He stumbled forward over his own feet, but followed where the arm took him, same as he did when Alfred started trying to guide him away from paparazzi anytime they glimpsed him. Anytime they got an excuse.

He held his bag tight and piled in beside Clark, regretting every step that took him to this conclusion.

While his parents got back in Clark looked over at Bruce with concern. His heart was like a drum suddenly.

“You okay?” he whispered.

Bruce’s face had fallen into a brutal neutrality once the eyes weren’t on him anymore. Blank and stiff.

But he nodded faintly, lying.

“... Okay.” Clark said, not believing it at all, but not prying further.

“So is it just as cold out there as it is here?” His dad asked.

Typical banter.

Him. It was him. He was being talked to.

Talk.

“Haven’t been here long enough to say,” Bruce said, lost somewhere over the horizon with no buildings to stop him.

“It’s colder in Gotham.” Clark added as they started to move once everyone was buckled up.

“We’re pretty tired from the trip though. Is the guest room ready?”

“Oh yeah it’s all waiting for you. Will you two want breakfast or you gonna collapse into bed?” Martha asked.

“Bed,” Bruce managed, even though he knew he should’ve said more than that.

But in his head he was already at a family breakfast. Staring at them over a meal. Having to talk more before he could think or control his heart or breathe and actually feel it filling his lungs, not just faintly keeping him conscious by a thread.

“Yeah we’re beat.” Clark said, although he wasn’t very tired. This was mostly for Bruce’s sake.

“We’ll just get some rest and then we can have lunch and stuff, okay?”

“Okay, that sounds good. I still need to run out and grab a few things anyway.” Martha said, and with that the conversation would taper off and away from the boys.

Clark did pass a look over to Bruce though, just to check on him.

...gradually, Bruce’s heartbeat started to slow again as the conversation moved away, and he didn’t have to drag himself to pay attention to it. Didn’t live scared of the response he missed. He could just stare blankly forwards and hover for a while.

But that was it, too.

He just… hovered.

The usual awareness wasn’t in his eyes. And he knew it wasn’t there.

And the part of him that wasn’t in front, that wasn’t keeping them in society, breathing, not being kicked out of the car of the only people he knew for miles and miles--

That part of him was screaming. A sound not even Clark could hear.

Wake up. Pay attention. It’ll happen while you’re not paying attention. It’s going to go wrong. If you don’t pay attention everything will go wrong.

But he couldn’t drag himself to the front yet.

He couldn’t do it that fast.

They drive for awhile before turning into a tiny little town that was just starting to wake up, and then they even drove away from that and down long barren roads onto a long dirt driveway, the farmhouse soon coming into view.

“Home sweet home.” Jon said as he pulled up to a stop.

“We’re here, Bruce.” Clark said quietly, trying to get his attention so they could climb out of the car.

It helped. His name. Instruction.

He shuffled out of the car, pulling his backpack back on, and at the very least managed to glance at the small farmhouse and and and

(he counted exits)

Before following Clark inside, looking dazed.

Like he did definitely need the bed.

“I’ll show Bruce to his room, he’s pretty wiped.” Clark said, leading his friend up the steps and… maybe putting an arm around his shoulders to guide him a little better.

“It’s up the steps. C’mon.”

He made a small confirming sound at his name, and

Arm.

Followed the arm. Pressed into it.

(Tommy guided him like this, sometimes. Alfred did. Away from the worst of things. Back to the manor, or their room, or--)

He was lost in three places at once. The farmhouse here, and the manor, and the academy and coming out of the alleyway under a policeman’s coat.

But he could make it up the stairs, and be guided to the guest room, at the very least.

Clark got him up the steps, paused only for a moment to point at the bathroom. “Bathroom is here. And this is the guest room.”

He opened it up to reveal a very old, dated looking bed with an empty dresser and bedside table with a lamp. Floral comforter and frilled pillow cover.

“Sorry it’s… very grandma.” He huffed. “But, uh, you get comfortable. You want something to drink?”

Looked fine. Normal, even.

He shook his head.

“...how long?” he asked.

“... How long what?”

...fuck. The word. Didn’t she say lunch?

“Til lunch,” he said.

How long to recover.

“Oh, like, uh… you still got awhile. It’s only eight right now so four hours? Ish? And if you need to chill in here longer you can.” Clark said, looking at an old clock over the door.

Four hours sounded like both an eternity and no time at all.

Bruce set down his bag and nodded, not sure what to say.

Not sure how to ask to start.

Alone.

Rest.

Privacy.

Please.

“I'm gonna bring you something to drink and then you can sleep or whatever.” Clark said, turning away and heading downstairs.

He came back a moment later with a cup of warm tea.

“Here. Just yell if you need anything.”

And then he would leave Bruce to recover.

“Okay. Thanks,” he said, letting the hot tea sit.

...he held it in his hands.

….the heat helped.

He could smell it.

...once he was alone, he closed his eyes and sat on the floor, holding the cup between his hands and just… breathing it in deeply.

He took a drink. Followed the heat as it traveled down his throat.

….

It was sort of like Alfred’s tea.

Two places, now. Only lost in two. That was manageable.

A little more color came back to him. He finished the tea. The cup cooled and it didn’t help anymore. But he was a little better.

...he didn’t have the energy to do much, though.

So he kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the unfamiliar bed, biting down on his hand as hard as he could, and once all he could think about was his hand, he closed his eyes on the pillow and let go.

And he would go to sleep.

And in four hours, he would be fine again.

In four hours or so, Clark would knock on his door.

“Bruce? You awake? We're gonna have some lunch now.”

There was a jump in heartrate as Bruce jerked awake, but he still understood well enough what had been said to him.

“Y-yeah-- just let me get to the bathroom.”

“Okay, just come down to the kitchen when you're ready.” Clark said, leaving him be. His footsteps could be heard going down the stairs.

...Bruce waited until the footsteps were down the stairs and a little fainter before crawling out of bed.

His clothing was wrinkled from sleeping in it.

He grabbed a new shirt and set of pants, and folded the two he’d been wearing on the bus. Grabbed his comb.

Bathroom.

He washed his face and combed his hair back, the way he always wore it, unless he ended up shoved under a John Deere hat. Made sure his shirt was flat and his clothing straight. Tied his shoes back on.

He hurried down the stairs.

This time, he was Braced for It.

Now that he was more aware of his surroundings he could take in the details.

Worn furniture. Warm. Lived in. Family pictures on the mantle over the TV that was playing The Price Is Right. Noises from the kitchen.

Clark and Martha were there, Clark over a bowl of soup and Martha watching the TV from her position in front of the stove.

“Well don't you look nice.” she grinned. “You hungry?”

Maybe ironically, Bruce wasn’t used to being complimented on his appearance.

Maybe because he grew up with Alfred, and he was wearing the bare minimum to please Alfred.

“Thanks,” he said, voice a little steadier than it had been that morning. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You like chicken corn soup?” She asked.

Clark was eating the same thing that was on the stove in a large pot; a homemade soup with bits of chicken, corn, and other things to make a hearty, white soup.

Without being asked Clark got up and started to get Bruce something to drink.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had it before,” he said honestly, watching Clark out of the corner of his eye.

“Well if you don't like it you don't have to eat it, okay?” Martha said, getting out a bowl and filling it with soup. She set it down in front of him with a spoon.

“We got tea, milk, or OJ.” Clark said, looking over at Bruce.

“Thank you,” he said again, sitting where she set it, and glanced back at Clark. “Tea?”

“...oh. I forgot the cup upstairs--”

“That's okay, just bring it down later.” Martha said.

“This is iced tea, but if you want more hot tea I can make that too.” Clark said, pulling out the jug to show Bruce.

Bruce blinked blankly at him, as if just confronted with something he had no idea about.

“Iced tea?”

The two looked at each other like Bruce was the alien.

Clark poured him a glass of iced tea and set it in front of him.

“Wondered why I didn't see it anywhere at school.”

Bruce looked down at the cup like it was a challenge.

“...”

He kept eye contact with Clark as he sipped it.

It didn't taste anything like hot tea. It was sweet with a tiny hint of lemon.

Clark stared him right back.

“... Well?”

…

Bruce stared down at it.

“...I think I felt one of Alfred’s ancestors disown me just now,” he said, and took another sip.

Clark laughed, “But do you like it?”

Bruce nodded.

“It’s good.”

It was a little like a flat soda, almost?

“Good.” Clark grinned and sat back down to finish eating. Martha looked to be scooping the soup that was left over into freezing containers and labeling them.

“You gonna give Bruce a tour of the farm when you're done?”

Clark looked over at him, “You want one?”

“Sure?” Bruce said, “Whatever the plan is.”

He had no idea if there even was a plan. He’d focused so hard on getting here he wasn’t really sure what to do otherwise.

Even Clark had admitted there wasn’t much to do besides bowling.

So his only plan right now was to run with manners and hope it got him somewhere.

He ate the soup and drank the tea, not finding it quite his taste, but eating and finishing it all the same.

Clark didn't really have a plan either. He had just heard his friend had what sounded like a really lonely holiday and invited him along.

So they finished their soup and set the dishes in the sink before bundling up to take the tour.

“You ever been on a farm?” He asked while walking down the front steps. The third one creaked.

He followed Clark’s lead. Ran upstairs to bring down the cup and wrap his own scarf (thick and dark) around his neck as they headed out.

“Gardens don’t count?” he asked rhetorically. “Then no.”

Clark chuckled, “No. Gardens don’t count.”

A man was pulled up in their driveway in a tractor with a plow hooked to the front talking to his dad, and Clark waved but didn’t go over. Instead he lead Bruce towards the barn.

“All the corn is down now since it’s winter, but we still got the cows I can show ya.”

Bruce nodded, following along behind him.

“Okay?”

He’d never seen a cow before.

...the sight and smell of them stopped him dead.

“...that’s huge.”

“How big did you think cows were, Bruce?” Clark laughed, closing the barn door behind them.

The cows were in their stalls for the winter, some laying down to sleep while others had their heads stuck through the bars to feed from their trough.

It did smell pretty bad, but Clark didn’t seem to mind. He walked over to one and pet between its eyes.

Bruce honestly didn’t know how the cows stood the smell.

...he followed up behind Clark, watching him pet the cow, though his curiosity was focused a bit more on the petter than the pet-ee.

“They’re nice once you know how to act around them.” Clark said, looking at Bruce. “Just, y’know, gotta be aware they can break your foot. Here-” He reached out to take the other boy’s hand and place it gently on the cow’s head where he had been petting it.

The fur was course almost. Rough. Not really soft but not really wiry either.

Bruce was honestly not even really thinking about petting the cows--

...but Clark’s hand was warm, and it startled him into complacency, hand being pulled out of his pocket like that and held, even just for a moment.

…

The fur was coarse. But she was warm. The cow. And even though the fur was coarse, the skin under it was soft as Clark’s hand on top of his.

… “Wow,” he said, knowing he had to say something.

“See? They’re nice.” Clark said, oblivious to what was going on in Bruce’s head right now.

“C’mon.” He said, leading him out of the barn and towards the backyard.

“That’s our own little garden even though it’s just a patch of frozen mud right now. We grow tomatoes, zucchini, strawberries, tons of stuff. Mom makes jam. I’ll have her give you a jar to take back if you want. It’s really good.”

He lead him into a smaller barn after that. It had a four-wheeler and a few tractors inside.

“This is where we keep some of the equipment.”

Bruce followed Clark around the farm, feeling a little dumb and dumbfounded, and not sure what to feel the rest of the time. The farm life was… very different from the world he knew. And he respected it, he was pretty sure--but he didn’t really know much about it.

So he followed politely, looking around.

He pretty readily agreed to the jam.

“Alfred will like it,” he said.

“Cool. Y’know you gotta show me around your mansion or whatever sometime.”

A dog barked and soon a dog with black and white splotches was running up to them.

“Oh, and that’s Daisy.”

She tried to jump up at Bruce in excitement, tag wagging.

“Woah--” Bruce took a step back as Daisy jumped up at him, but--

...it was a dog.

Bruce bent down a moment later and was scratching her behind the ears.

Daisy put on that ‘thats the spot’ face and leaned into it, grumbling happily.

“I don’t think I’ve ever asked, do you have any pets?”

Bruce… made a bit of a face. And shook his head.

“No. Not anymore.”

...he was content to keep scratching the dog behind the ear as long as she’d lean in.

Clark stood and just sort’ve… watched him for a moment.

It was nice to see him content like this. Away from pressure.

“You feeling better than you were earlier?” He asked, as though he somehow knew.

…

“Yeah. ...sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”

He’d bite it back as often as he had to.

“It’s okay, dude.” Clark shrugged. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay when you’re around me. It happens.”

Bruce just… focused on the dog.

Clicked his fingers at her.

“I am fine, though,” he said, not even fooling himself. “...you didn’t tell me that’s what your mom’s name was.”

… It took him a moment. He looked confused, then his eyes went big.

“Oh. Oh, damn. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about it.” He looked ashamed and ran a hand through the curls in his hair.

Bruce shook his head, not… looking at him, for that. “It’s fine. You shouldn’t have to.”

He should’ve been able to handle this on his own. It had been years. (six years.) He should be fine.

But his throat was dry, even after draining the whole glass of ice tea, and his fingers were getting cold, even in the warmth of Daisy’s fur.

Why was he still talking?

“Dad didn’t die first,” he said. “He kept calling her name.”

Daisy tried to lick his face, tail wagging.

“... I’m sorry, Bruce.” Clark said quietly. “Must be hard.”

He had never lost someone before.

He didn’t know how it felt.

He’d said it wouldn’t happen again, but he felt that creeping chill on the edge of his consciousness, threatening to drag him out of Smallville again. It wasn’t there yet. It hadn’t yanked him in violently like back at the bus station. But he could feel the prickle of it; the threat.

He sat down crosslegged in the field, and let the dog lick him.

When she stopped he just… shook his head.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” ‘it must be hard’ wasn’t… something he was used to hearing. “I’ve got money and Alfred to take care of me. I’m fine.”

Clark sat down with him on the cold, frozen dirt.

“Yeah but that’s just money and Alfred ain’t your dad. You might have what you need but not what you want. ‘N money can’t buy that.”

“So, like… are you fine?”

He looked over at him and tried to meet his eyes with his own bright blue gaze that somehow stood out even more than Bruce’s. The sun was high in the sky and there weren’t as many clouds to hide him like their were in Gotham, and you could see how much his skin almost glowed in the sunlight.

That wasn’t what people were supposed to say, and the urge to argue Kent down made a thousand things meant to be kept secret bubble up on his tongue.

But he swallowed them down.

...he seemed much smaller out here, under the big, clear sky. In Gotham, in its narrow streets and foggy skies, he stretched up and could fill a room. Here he was just a small, lost shadow: dark clothes, pale skin.

And when Clark tried to meet his eyes, they were glazed wet, and in the process of being blinked away, even as Bruce’s voice said, steadily, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

…

“When I’m eighteen,” he said, guiding Daisy down to lie in his lap for a belly rub, “I inherit everything they left behind. And I’m going to take it and run away, until not even you’d be able to find me.”

Daisy rolled into him and was very happy for the belly rub.

“... Why?” Clark asked, sounding sad. “Just to get away?”

...at least someone understood.

Bruce nodded.

Clark nodded too.

…

“Where you gonna go?”

Bruce shrugged.

He didn't know. He didn't care much.

“Okay.”

…

“Well-” Clark nudged him a little. “-I’d like it if ya kept in touch at least a little.”

He gave him an award-winning smile.

...Bruce found himself looking at that smile, and… it was hard not to feel some guilt.

“We’ll see,” he compromised.

Clark went quiet and just sat with him then.

…

After a few minutes though he blinked and stood up, looking down at his driveway.

Bruce looked up.

Glanced down the driveway. Saw nothing.

But he looked back up at Clark without any doubt. “What do you see?”

“It’s Pete ‘n Kenny.” Clark said just as you could start to hear the car. He offered a hand down to help Bruce to his feet.

“Friends of mine. Guess mom told ‘em I was coming home.”

Bruce didn't need the help, but he took the hand anyway, pushing Daisy off his lap carefully as he went.

“Yeah…?”

He was a little anxious about meeting Clark’s friends.

He was bad with people. And caring about Clark made things suddenly infinitely more complicated if he failed to make a good impression.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about ‘em, they’re good people.”

Clark lead him over to the car as it slid to a stop, two boys sat in the front.

“You’re back!” The passenger shouted.

“Yeah, for winter break.” Clark said, then gestured to them. “Kenny, Pete. Pete, Kenny, this is Bruce. Friend of mine from school.”

“Yo.” Kenny waved from the driver’s seat, Pete from the passenger’s side.

Bruce waved back with a “nice to meet you,” and hung back, not willing to overstep. He was already looking at Pete and Kenny’s haircuts and their clothes, and starting to get an idea how Clark must've felt, standing out in school.

They dressed a lot like Clark did. Layers. Worn clothes. Mud around the ankles and hand-me-down jackets.

“Get in, both of ya, we’re heading down to the tracks.” Kenny said, pointing to the back seat.

“Uh.” Clark looked at Bruce. “You cool with tagging along?”

He looked hopeful.

Bruce shrugged and--well. He had no reason not to?

“Sure.”

He climbed into the back with Clark.

“Nice.” Pete grinned, and once they were in, Kenny started to back up and turn around to head out.

…

At first they didn’t really talk to Bruce. They just filled Clark in on all the town gossip. Who was boning who, who was getting knocked up, who had fallen out or gotten in trouble.

But soon that did come around as they pulled into a gravel spot by some train tracks. Pete leaned back and looked at Bruce. “He tell ya why he ran off to Gotham?”

Clark might’ve gone a little pale. “Pete.”

“Said he was layin’ low,” Bruce said, picking up Pete’s accent a little bit from being surrounded by it for a little. He crossed his arms on the seat in front of him and leaned forward, asking for more without saying anything.

“I’ll kill you, Pete.” Clark warned.

“Yeah. Layin’ low after blastin’ a guys arms off with his eyes.” Pete grinned.

Clark threatened to climb over the seat and smack him, and Pete just kept laughing.

“Pete you fuckin’ dumbass, you know he can actually kill you, right?” Kenny huffed.

Bruce just… looked sort of confused for a bit at that.

What did that mean? If it was an in-joke would Clark be that upset, but if it was leaning closer to real, what did that even mean?

He knew Clark… was different.

But he didn't realize he hadn't seen half of it yet.

“...what?”

“You didn’t tell him?” Kenny said, a little surprised.

Clark stopped smacking Pete, who was laughing his ass off. “Kenny! What do you think laying low means?!”

“Well I mean, c’mon man, you brought him here. Damn near everyone knows you’re an alien.” Kenny said, unintimidated.

Clark just… slumped back into the seat, as far away from everyone as possible, and shoved his face in his hands.

…

You know what?

Bruce was going to unpack all of this later.

Right now, all he could do was turn, look Clark dead in the eye, and say, “suddenly I understand why you had such a hard time with ‘snitches get stitches’ with friends like these.”

Clark was rubbing his eyes. “God.”

“Ah c’mon Clark. We gotta embarrass our buddy in front of his new friend.” Pete grinned.

Clark glared at him. “You’re honestly lucky I trust Bruce not to say anything. You know how much shit I could get in if everyone in Gotham knew? Area 51??” He gestured wildly to himself.

“If it makes you feel better people are starting to say those three were just tripping on something and imagined the whole thing.” Kenny said.

Bruce was still just… running with this. As it happened.

Unpack later. Survive right now.

(From his position, he could get an arm around Kenny’s neck and choke him as payback for Clark’s trust being violated)

(There was a red mark against Kenny from this, against Pete. Snitches get stitches. Silence was golden. Loose lips sank ships.

Trust no one.)

(‘You’re honestly lucky I trust Bruce not to say anything.’ When-- when had that-- when had he earned that?)

“What did happen?” Bruce asked instead.

He was ten places in his head, and lost in none of them.

They all looked at Clark.

…

Clark sighed and rubbed his head.

“Some assholes shot up the gas station last year. Killed like five people. I knew where he’d gone, I could hear the yelling, so I tracked them down. One guy shot me in the face with a revolver. I tossed him through the front of the house. Next guy shot me in the chest with a shotgun. I ended up burning his arms off. Then Pete came around and ended up clocking the last one with a shovel.”

He said it all so… numbly. Like he had unpacked in awhile ago and could now just… recite it.

“They lived?” he said, deciding not to question the… burning. The being followed. The shotgun.

“... Yeah.” Clark said quietly.

Bruce had gone back to his Gotham accent. His voice had been falling into his harder, more serious tone.

Pete and Kenny called this story embarrassing to Clark.

“But you did it?”

Kenny and Pete were looking at one another, watching this unfold after they had set it into motion.

“... Yeah?” Clark said again. “I can do… a lot of weird shit.”

Maybe the new fragile city kid going hard and cold wasn't what they'd expected when they started talking about small town maiming.

“Yeah, no shit, you beat my mile,” Bruce said. “...but you burnt their arms off.”

…he waited for one more confirmation, looking Clark in the eye just as Clark had done with him half an hour earlier.

But once he got it--even just a flash of a ‘yes’ in a look between them, Bruce said, “Good.”

And Clark did say ‘yes’.

But then he looked confused.

“Good?”

That was the first time anyone had said that.

And Bruce said it again.

Firmer.

“Good.”

Clark blinked and stared at him, like a whole other option had opened up to him.

…

“Damn,” Kenny said. “Hardass Gotham.”

Kenny still had a mark against him, and he wasn't helping himself, so Bruce didn't feel bad when he turned the full weight of a glare on him.

Maybe his eyes couldn't ‘burn off’ anyone’s arms, but that just meant that his blue eyes were cold and hard as ice.

“They shot five people? They deserve what's coming to them.”

… Kenny backed up and put his hands up. “Not sayin’ they didn’t.”

“Yeah, no one is saying that.” Pete added. “I mean, if he hadn’t showed up then they were gonna kill like their whole family.”

Clark still didn’t say anything. He was looking down, like he had never been told that what he had done was good. Not really. Whenever they had mentioned how he had done well it was also interlaced with ‘but what could have happened to you’.

They were going to kill their whole family.

They were going to kill their whole family?

That part hadn't been said. Just: Clark tracked them down. Clark fought them. Clark got shot.

Clark lived.

(They were going to kill a family, and Bruce, already mentally exhausted from the morning, from bracing himself against names, from coping, found himself seeing it happen in an alleyway unlike anything he'd seen in Smallville, and he was so tired of spending the day in that place.)

“Cool. Cool, so… fuck this,” he said, and turned to Clark, seeing him spaced out. “Hey. Kent. Snap out of it. You said you guys got out more than us, right? Time to prove it.”

Find somewhere else to go.

Somewhere to lose this conversation entirely, before they got lost in it.

“Uhhhh fine.” Clark groaned and sat up. “Let’s go.”

Pete put the car in reverse. “Where to?”

“... Bowling?” Clark shrugged and looked at Bruce.

“I'll pay,” Bruce said, fine with that.

“See you throw every single ball down the gutter again.”

“You were last!” Clark pointed out.

“Yeah. I have nothing to prove,” he said, straight faced.

“But I might try harder out of revenge now that I know I wasn't wrong about my mile.”

“I was gonna apologize but I thought that would be saying too much!” Clark pleaded with him.

“They makin’ you take gym, Clark?” Kenny asked as they drove.

“Yes.”

“Oof.”

Bruce-- Bruce wasn't angry at Clark for it, not really. He'd been the one playing mediator at the time. Half of him just… needed something to keep going. To be huffy about--something that didn't matter--so he wouldn't be huffy about things that did.

“Tommy and Harv aren't gonna say anything even if they’ve figured something out,” he said, finally leaning back some and trying to uncoil the tight knot in his shoulders. “I told them not to that day.”

And no matter how loud Tommy was, no matter how much the teachers liked Harvey-- at the end of the day, Bruce was the one in charge. He didn't say much, but when he told them to not pry or talk, neither of the other boys would.

That weight didn't transfer to Kansas well, but after that conversation-- it lingered on him, some, in the back of the car, in his nice dark clothes, and the cold exhaustion in his eyes.

“They've been letting him skip for asthma, but running a four minute mile blew that out of the water some.”

“... Thanks.” Clark said, looking over at him.

“Guess since no one is in on it over there things are kinda hard.” Pete said.

“You have no idea.” Clark mumbled.

…

“This is kinda a relief. You knowing now.”

...he relaxed a little more.

“...I'm gonna be processing this for a while still,” he said. “...but I guess it at least makes sense now why you didn't think I was insane about the Talons being real.”

….somehow, the thought that Clark hadn't just been humoring him the last few months took precedence.

Clark huffed a laugh.

“Talons?” One in the front asked.

“Nah we’re not talking about that shit with you two.” Clark said firmly.

No way.

…

Bruce found himself smiling a little.

Mentioning it had been a kind-of permission, but… he was glad it wasn't taken.

Clark kept their secrets.

“So,” he leaned forward onto the front chair again. “Clark said something about corn demons?”

“What?” Kenny said.

“What?” Clark said too, then paused. “Oh, there's uh, that hell gateway over in Stull I think I mentioned.” Clark said.

“Eh, people just like to bullshit about angry ghosts that come out around Halloween.” Pete said.

“Our murder rate just spikes on Halloween,” Bruce said. “Why’s it a hell gateway?”

Said the Jewish boy.

“I have no idea.” Clark admitted.

“Isn't Gotham like one of the biggest crime places in the US?” Pete asked.

“Recently, yeah,” Bruce said, keeping it steady.

“What's it like there?” Pete asked.

“Ever been stabbed?” Kenny followed.

“Jesus, guys.” Clark sighed.

“I would probably not be walking around so great if I'd been stabbed,” Bruce said flatly, thinking of the caning in school, and the dread Tommy and Harv had of going home, and grisly pictures on the front page.

“You two sound like you watch way too much tv.”

“They do.” Clark said flatly.

They pulled into the bowling alley.

It was… very empty. The inside only had two people in staff with the radio playing and an arcade tucked in the corner.

“Same show that told you we were supposed to be out partying when we just snuck out for ice cream?”

Bruce pulled out a handful of bills and handed them to Clark mostly out of habit.

He could probably actually… buy things here without being recognized, maybe. But habit still won this round.

Clark didn't mind, walking up and paying. “Absolutely.”

“Snuck out for ice cream?”

“Didn't think you could get any lamer, Clark.” Kenny chuckled.

...it did make him think, though. A connection he hadn't been able to make, but that he'd made sure to hold onto the pieces, just in case.

“...what they said earlier doesn't happen to have anything to with how easy scaling the wall was for you, right?”

Clark waited until they were away from other prying ears to answer.

“Um, yeah. I might've been kinda… flying. For that.”

Bruce turned and stared at him again.

“What?” He whispered back.

Clark cleared his throat as if embarrassed. “I can fly.”

Bruce is going to need a long time to work through all this.

But right now, he's compartmentalizing like a pro.

“...what else can you do?”

“Uh,” Clark mumbled as he tied his bowling shoes. “I can see through things. Like x-ray vision? And can hear really far. Like--”

He looked up and his eyes glowed blue. “I can see one of the employees back behind the counter picking his nose. And he's humming that really annoying country song that won't stop playing on the radio.”

There was something in that which nagged Bruce. Being watched without being able to tell. Being heard. But--

But he had something to soothe it, a little bit. And confirm.

“I can hear the humming, too,” he said.

Not as a challenge.

But.

He believed Clark.

This was something most people couldn't hear.

And if he could hear that, Bruce would also believe the sight.

Clark looked a little surprised, happy even.

“Really?” He smiled a little, like he suddenly felt less alone.

“And, uh, I try hard to not listen in on private conversations and stuff if it makes you feel better. I don't want to hear everything. It just happens. I have to focus to pay attention to what close.”

...the apology was fine, but the second part still kept him a little on guard.

“Like the teachers meeting with students after class,” he said, and trying to not think of how close some private discussions had been to Clark. “...how far away?”

Clark made a face as though the answer pained him.

“Miles. Like… three miles? More if I focus.”

...not even Bruce’s razor hearing did that.

He felt the knot in his chest tighten almost imperceptibly.

“...but you don't.”

“No. I try to ground myself and focus on what's next to me.” He got up to get a bowling ball. Picked out the heaviest one and twirled it in his hands idly like it didn't weigh a thing.

“I try to keep it to like… a few rooms away sort of hearing. That's the smallest I can get without having to strain myself.”

A few rooms away.

(Kisses don't make sounds, Bruce told himself, but all the same, felt his heart speed up a bit at the memory.)

“A few rooms clearly?” he said, watching how Clark spun the bowling ball as if it were just a basket ball, meant to be tossed around in the air.

He picked up his own ball to wait his turn. It was lighter. But it was still heavy in his lap.

Clark made a face again. Guilty.

“I… I can hear your heartbeat through walls, so. Yeah. Clearly.”

He looked at Bruce, apologetic.

“I'm-- I'm sorry.”

...that.

That was… too much.

He could only hear his own heartbeat in his ears and thundering in his chest, and it was too much for him.

But he couldn't have this conversation here.

He couldn't have it anywhere, maybe.

He couldn't think too hard on that, on his very heartbeat always being listened to, on the illusion of privacy, and the thought of--

He picked up his bowling ball, numb and dead to the world, and with no distractions and a mechanicalness to his movements, he rolled a strike.

They weren't talking about this anymore.

… Clark looked down, not saying a word as Kenny and Pete 'oooed’ over the strike and wrote it down.

They wouldn't bring it up again, talking about random things and trying to nudge Clark back into the conversation. But he didn't say much. He just… rolled his ball a little too fast a little too hard until he got the hang of it again.

And when it was over, no matter who won, they would drive the two back out to the farm.

Bruce kept up what amounted to polite conversation if he was pulled in.

He didn't remember who won.

He didn't remember what they said, or if he shook anyone’s hands as they dropped them off back at the Kent farm.

He wasn't as cold and detached as he'd been that morning, but he knew he was wading further from shore, and that he should pull himself back.

But he didn't want to do that around Clark right now.

Hot tea wouldn't pull back this.

When they pulled back into the farm Clark hung back at the car, if only for a minute.

…

“Thanks assholes, now he hates me.” He hissed and slammed the door a little too hard. It rocked the car and they yelled, but he didn't care.

He walked in behind Bruce and tried to tell his parents yes, they had fun, went bowling, tired now.

Up to his room.

….

Bruce followed.

Up to his room. Guest room. It wasn’t lavish or high quality, but it smelled a little dusty, like the manor, and he could choke on that a little and feel a bit better in the familiar prison of old and carefully preserved items.

‘Granny’ Clark had called it.

(Bruce’s grandparents had died by the time he was born. Parents married late by parents who married late by parents who married late.)

…

He managed to sit on the bed for a full five minutes, hands held carefully in each other and breathing slowly, heart steadying, before he locked it in place.

And he left the room, footsteps quiet as he could make them on the carpet, and went back downstairs.

#aka bruce dissociates in kansas #if i hear a single martha joke i snipe on sight #batman #superman #superbat #80s gay superbat #rp logs #the total visit is like 70 pages lol

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wouldduskwood · 3 years

Text

Descendants of Despair Part 59

Having a purpose helped distract from the could have beens. As we researched more typical human reactions to situations, it made me realise how different Jake and I really were. Our emotions, though confusing, sometimes even conflicting, were honest and real. Other people lied so much more. They sheltered true emotion, whether it be sadness, anger, love, fear or disappointment. Where Jake and I had learned to fend for ourselves, others expected the world to owe them something. It was a confusing array of lies, defensiveness, justifications and expectations. I had witnessed a lot of things in my time people watching, both as a child and as I had grown, but the internet provided a much larger sample. It was suddenly overwhelming and somehow more disturbing than I thought it would be.

“Jake...uh...I’m glad you’re not a real boy...if being a real boy means this shit.” I sighed as I indicated the screen. “I’m not sure we are going to be able to pull this off too well. I won’t be able to see her reaction to things so won’t be able to know whether she is lying or shielding things and you won’t be able to tell me what your thoughts are. I think our best bet is going to have to be to make the meeting as short and to the point as possible.”

Jake nodded, somehow looking both perplexed and horrified at what he was reading on the screen. “I guess this is one reason I am glad I went into hacking...the other people that are hacking as well all know that we are hiding stuff and very likely lying to each other. It’s like an unwritten social code. But this…” Jake groaned, indicating the screen with disgust. “We may have to do this soon so I don’t have too much time to freak out.”

“How quickly can you get an earpiece sorted?” I asked. “That won’t take long, I think I can piece one together myself. Can you sort out a meeting. Uh...I’m not sure where to take her that doesn’t look like a murder house.” Jake replied hesitantly. I giggled in response which caused Jake to look at me questioningly. “It’s nothing, just you didn’t mind giving Dan the illusion of a murder house, taking him to the abandoned warehouse,” I grinned. “Dan needed a good dose of fear,” Jake snickered. “Can you sort a place? I trust you to find somewhere that won’t terrify her or out me.”

As I pulled out my phone, I considered Jake’s trust in me. I didn’t tend to have a problem with people trusting me. I could usually manipulate my way into that. But Jake’s trust was founded on my true self, at my best and my worst. That made all the difference. I didn’t want to fail him...and surprisingly I didn’t want to fail Lilly either.

After a while of thinking about all the abandoned buildings I knew, I finally came to a realisation. “Wait...I’m thinking about this all wrong,” I stated, breaking the silence and causing Jake to pause in his work. “I was thinking of a building that would give the illusion of comfort for Lilly and security for us, but I realised that is just stupid. What about the lake in Duskwood. We take an offshoot away from the main area and wait there. There won’t be cameras and it’s highly unlikely anyone will be around.”

“Hm, as long as we stay away from the forest, although if we go near it we could possibly run into the man without the face and then we may get a chance to end it once and for all.” Jake grinned. “You’re right, that’s probably the most comforting place for Lilly. If we leave quickly we won’t be too likely to strike anyone else. Can you set it up?”

I grabbed my phone and pulled up Lilly’s contact.

Lilly

MC: Hey Lilly

Lilly is online

Lilly: OMG where have you been?

MC: Something happened so I had to leave where I was staying, but I’m good now.

Lilly: Really? Is there something that you aren’t telling me MC?

I paused in my typing as I thought about how best to approach this. It didn’t take me long to decide on lying while covering the fact that I was with Jake in person.

MC: Yes actually, Jake has asked me to set up a meeting with you. He was a bit nervous reaching out himself in case you refused.

Lilly: OMG really, he wants to meet up? Oh I’m so nervous!

MC: Listen, it won’t be a long meeting, you know how his life is. Just don’t get too excited for something he may not be able to provide for you. Lilly: OH yes I do understand but still..I’m going to meet my big brother! MC: I will contact you soon with timing, but it will be at Duskwood lake. Can you find a private area somewhere around there and then give Jake the coordinates or let him track you? Lilly: Yes I think I know a place. I’ll do that. I’ll be waiting by my phone!

I disconnected quickly before I accidentally revealed too much. Jake turned to me with a smile. “Nicely done.” I should have known he would be monitoring the conversation while he worked. However, I was surprised to find I wasn’t at all angry. “Sorry I lied a bit. I thought it was best that she didn’t know too much.” I murmured. Jake smiled. “It’s fine, you did well. I’ll have this up and running soon. Do you want to sort out some food? It’s been a while since we last ate and we should still have something in the car.” I nodded thankfully. He was right, it had been a while since we had eaten and lack of food tended to bring more mistakes.

As I busied myself with putting together a slapdash meal of crackers, energy bars and a couple of fairly okay looking apples, Jake busied himself with the fine art of piecing together an ear piece out of bits and pieces he had pulled out from a small pouch he had kept amongst his tech stuff. I carried the meal over to him, not expecting much, but he accepted it and smiled thankfully. We ate in silence then Jake began working again while I marvelled at his ability to work with such intricate pieces without getting frustrated and throwing them across the room. He was impressive.

“Okay, I’m going to test this. So, I have managed to hook up a rudimentary microphone as well as the ear piece. It will transmit okay, but it may be staticky so you will need to be aware it may be hard to hear things. I should be able to hear you fine from this part here.” Jake said, indicating various parts of his creation. How he had pieced it together out of random bits was beyond me and I stared at him in complete awe. “Uh, I’m pretty sure it will work…” Jake mumbled, suddenly seeming self conscious.

“You’re incredible,” I murmured. “Let’s give it a go then I’ll message Lilly. We will try and do this tomorrow!” Jake smiled nervously then gave me a quick kiss. Together we tested his equipment, with Jake walking various distances away to test the range. It seemed pretty reliable, and it was probably the best we had anyway. “Contact Lilly. Set it up,” Jake mumbled into the microphone. I grabbed my phone and set about planning for the future.

Part 60

#duskwood jake x #duskwood jakexplayer #duskwood jake x player #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic #duskwood jakexmc fanfic #duskwood #duskwood jakexmc #fanfiction #fanfic #jakexmc #duskwood jake #jake x mc

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btssavedmylifeblr · 4 years

Note

I forgot to send on my voting story. Ok so my brother and I both got mail in ballots, and let me tell you how we both forgot to mail it in so we just thought to bring them to our voting location. The lady there kinda yelled at us? She was confused and didn't know how to go about it. And honestly I just took it because we were the idiots who didn't mail in our ballots. We had to rip them up and they just us new ones to fill out in person and submit. Not exciting, but a story for void snippet. 👀

Anonymous said: Hi!! I'm so excited for void! I voted today around 30 minutes before the polls closed in my neighborhood because I had to wait for my dad and brother to get home from work since they wanted to go all together hehe. It was a pretty fast process! We just pressed buttons on screens (compared to last election where we had to bubble in everything by hand) plus, I got to keep the stylus that they gave us and it works on phones too! 🥰🥰 Thank you! I love your writing so much 💜💜💜

Anonymous said: I did mine through mail me and my husband did and we went to the post office a little while back and then he took us on a nice little date afterward and we got ice cream! Also I love void💖 keep up the good work

Anonymous said: VOTES FOR VOID??? I love democracy and I love VOID! So since May I've (temporarily) moved back home from New York to Indiana RE: covid; I've voted absentee for the both the primaries and presidential election (I'm still in IN rn...blah). I voted early and mailed in my ballot for the presidential election (about 3 weeks ago). Made sure my family was voting (brother mailed it in, mom dropped off a ballot, and dad did early voting) and encourage them to put up a Biden sign in our yard <3

Anonymous said: HI BEE! I ALSO VOTED TODAY! IM 21 SO THIS IS MY FIRST TIME VOTING FOR THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION (my 18th bday didnt make the cutoff since im a december bday) im so happy to have done my part! I made sure to study up on the judges and policies and everything! Luckily the polling place didn't have a line so i was able to get in, get my ballot, and fill it in right away! I even dragged my mom and cousin to come with me. I made a joke on snapchat to encourage my friends to vote too. It was a pic of my "i voted" sticker with a caption saying "omg youre so sexy when you vote aHaha" -🦙

Anonymous said: this is my first time doing this so, so i hope i’m sending this correctly! i voted early in late september by mail! i live in a swing state, so it’s really important for me to vote and not waste time!! bc of my age, this is my first time voting so i’m really nervous 😅

Anonymous said: I voted by email! I'm overseas so I wasn't sure if my ballot would actually make it through in time, so I decided to go electronically. Had to sign a waiver saying I understand that my vote won't be anonymous but I haven't been given a reason to suspect voter suppression/fraud in my state, so I'm happy I think...!

Anonymous said: hi, i voted early on oct 24th. my absentee ballot didn't come in, so i had to travel back home to vote (~3 hour drive). when we got there, there was a ton of people outside the polling place, but no lines, so i was in and out pretty quick. it was my first time voting, so i had all the candidates i was voting for written down on a tiny receipt so i wouldn't forget 😅. my mom was with me, so she voted too. took a pic with my sticker (mask on for extra covid-ness) and went home. drove back the next afternoon!

whippedforkook said: Hi Bee. 💕 I voted in early October - nearly a month ago! 😱 It’s been really weird with all the lead up to the election because it felt like it should have been done once I cast my ballot! A lot of my friends have volunteered to get out the vote: writing postcards to voters, texting, phone banking, working the polls, curing ballots. I didn’t volunteer at all this year, but I hope that all of my friends’ hard work and everyone else’s is enough. I’m also hoping and praying that I will be in a better place mentally for 2022 so that I too can volunteer. Our work starts with 2020 not ends. 💕 Wishing you well. 💕

begineuphoria said: I went and voted last Friday as it was our last early voting day. No way was I going to wait until today with the crowds of people in my area that still act as if masks are somehow infringing on their rights. 🙄 It was a rather normal experience for the most part. Other than having to use a coffee stir stick to press the buttons on the machine to vote. In and out within five minutes.

Anonymous said: I voted down the street at this pretty park this morning. I got up at 5:30 and it was freezing. Luckily I wore like 30 layers and stood outside for 2 hours. Some nasty orange man supporters were rude but everyone else was pretty nice. A really cute older couple was playing soccer with pine cones and kicked it towards me to play too. Not the worst time tbh.

Anonymous said: Did mail-in voting in California! Extremely exhausting and took forever to research all the propositions - they are notoriously tricky in hiding their flaws and one side tends to outrageously outspend the other. But in the end I felt really good about my research and decisions! No need for you to post a snippet for this story - would like to save that to read sometime in the future ;) Thank you so much for doing this!

joonsgotthejuice said: Votes for void??? I am here! I went last Thursday and it was chaotic bc I kept going past the poll place but the line was soooo long so my mom called me and woke me up like "its pouring rain and the line is super short get up I'm gonna pick you up" so thats the story of how I got dressed in 5 minutes and dragged my ass to vote in the rain <3

Anonymous said: i voted early on thursday it was cold and rainy but i went in the late afternoon and thankfully the only waiting i did was a few minutes for an elevator i got very lucky and while waiting for the results is awful the relief that came from voting in general was just great

Anonymous said: Wheeew the polls just closed and I finally got to cast my ballot yayyy ( I was the one working the polls from earlier) it’s been a really really long day and we actually had surprisingly good turnout. I saw a woman try to vote for someone else who claimed to be “helping” and I saw a woman who I’m pretty sure was on some typa something 👀 Overall though I really I’m really thankful for people like you who encouraged people to get out and vote. I hope the odds are in our favor❤️🤞🏼

chelsea-chee said: Hello Bee! Today surprisingly my elderly father wanted to vote so I brought him out with me. He only cared about voting for Biden, which meant I got to help decide who he should vote for with the rest of the candidates and amendments! Say hello to baby bee for me as well! 💖

Anonymous said: Okay I gonna got a chance to vote today and the process wasn’t that bad actually. I went in just now and it wasn’t that busy( thankfully) so no lines. I’m from Texas and it’s gonna be almost impossible to turn this state blue, but every vote counts! I love that you are getting people to vote and also sharing your experiences as well!

owl-orgy said: Dropped off my mail in ballot at a polling location! I originally wanted to vote early in person because I was worried my signature wouldn’t match closely enough but ended up just turning it in and double checked today to make it said “ballot accepted and counted”!

Anonymous said: I voted in person this afternoon, better late than never I guess. I was gonna go last week but then I got cramps from hell. There was no one in line in front of me, I think my county early voted because it was packed everyday the last few weeks

Anonymous said: I voted early a couple weeks ago. Exciting thing though that did happen was I got both my parents to vote for their first time ever.

Anonymous said: I had a mail in vote. So, I filled it out and dropped it in at the ballot box at my library. (I also checked out books for the first time in years, so I had fun!)

bubblyjiminnie said: I literally just finished voting. Lucky for me, the line and wait wasn’t very long, and it was a nice enough day that the short amount of time I had to spend in line outside of the building wasn’t too bad. My social anxiety when it comes to stuff like this tends to be high but that’s what I get for waiting until Election Day instead of going the mail in route. This was only my second time voting, but I’m glad that I did 😊

Anonymous said: I turned my ballot in last week :) I’m not a big fan of crowds and I hate make spur of the moment choices but despite that the first time I was able to vote back in 08 my Mom pressured me into voting in person because “you’d have to experience it at least once in our life”. And ever since then I comfortably vote by mail. I take my time, do all of my research, listen to music, and best of all don’t have to deal with people.

Anonymous said: here in Washington state it’s super easy to vote. I dropped my ballot off in mid-October and it’s already been accounted for! Mail in voting and drop box voting is fantastic and provides equal opportunity and access. Sad to see some people in red states misinforming Americans about it! We also have a referendum for implementing mandatory sex ed, including teaching respect, empathy and consent as part of the curriculum so I was happy to vote yes on that too!

unionrox006 said: I voted about 2 weeks ago by doing a mail in ballot. The other eligible to vote members of my household did the same. We chose to vote by absentee ballot because both my mom and I have an autoimmune disorder, so we have to be careful going out in the pandemic. Tbh, the ballot layout was a bit confusing at first as was all the paperwork and required IDs and documents. But my dad explained it to me and we got them filled out and mailed off. Kinda mad I didn't get a sticker for it though

bluetostone said: Love this and so excited for the next chp of void! I early voted a few weeks ago and because I live in a pretty rural county I was in and out of my polling place in a few minutes. No sticker though 😢. I live in a swing state so it could go either way in terms of delegates. Just praying everyone is safe tonight as the results roll in...though, won't we not know for sure for a couple of days or weeks?

Anonymous said: My mom, sister, and I received our early voting ballots a while ago and I took the longest to fill mine out because it was making me anxious :,( but I did return it before it was due. I checked our ballot statuses and mine and my moms were accepted but my sister’s said they hadn’t received hers back. Then she got another ballot so she filled that one out too and I took it yesterday 👍👍 I think she got two because she changed her address late so they sent two?

vixsynsblog said: Non-interesting voter story: I'm paranoid and live in a highly divided area, so I filed mail-in ASAP, mailed it a few days after cause neighbors are nosy and don't understand boundaries. Was able to track my ballot through my credit company, which was nice. Only thing I was missing was my sticker. Never got one✊😔. So I had to improvise and write it in pen on my disposable mask. I'm working all this week so if riots break out from either side, I'll be at work. Prayers for the safety of others🙏

______

Waaah!!! Thank you all for voting!! You are all my heroes. I am so grateful and proud of you. I’m sorry I ran out of time to respond to you individually. I’m going to drop two big scenes from Chapter 7 in gratitude (one of which will be familiar to my patrons and one won’t). I’m hopeful I will have the whole next chapter out very soon. Love you all!

Void spoilers below the cut.

When you wake up in the morning, there are still no signed HR forms in your messages. Had you been a fool to think they were interested? How much time does it take to decide such a thing? Perhaps just by putting the idea out there explicitly, it had lost all of its taboo appeal.

There is a calendar reminder waiting for you: Today is chili pepper pollinating day. At least this gives you an excuse to talk to Hoseok.

You find the science officer in the lab as always, sitting with his knee up against his chest. Hoseok doesn’t look well. He’s got dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey, um…” You shuffle your feet. Want to fuck me? No wait…“You don’t look good. Were you here all night?” you ask.

He blinks at you, bleary-eyed. “Um, was I? Yeah.. I suppose. Lost track of time.” He rubs his eyes, before looking you up and down, then casting his gaze back to the floor.

All you want to do is ask about the forms. Or the meeting. Or what he thinks of you now. But you don’t. “I need to pollinate the chili peppers today.” Usually Hoseok is the person who assists with that. “But I can get one of the other guys to do it if you need the sleep.”

“No!” Hoseok lurches forward, standing up a bit to rapidly and needing to put his hand back on the bench to steady himself. “I mean, I’m fine.”

You should disgaree with him. He is exhausted. But you’d like more time to talk to him.

Pollinating the chili peppers is both time-sensitive and time-consuming, hence why it took two of you to get the job done. There were no insects on your ship to do the job for you and if they didn’t get pollinated, they wouldn’t bear any fruit. Your chili peppers were your favorite crop. Not only a vital source of Vitamin C, but all your food benefitted from having a bit of spice added to it.

You and Hoseok head for the greenhouse together. The intital set-up gives you something to talk about in the beginning. Hoseok gathers the pollen from one flower onto a paintbrush, then hands it over to you to paint onto the stigmas of each little flower on the next plant in the line.

Slowly the conversation dries up as you fall into a silent rhythm. Other than just enjoying the chili peppers, you must admit that this was one of your favorite tasks on the ship because of the high likelihood that the two of you would brush hands peridically. Always gave you butterflies. But today he seems extra intent on keeping his distance from you. Was he disgusted by you now? His hands are trembling.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

His hand twitches so hard that a little rain of yellow pollen cascades onto the floor. He curses in frustration before turning to face you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Um, yes, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“This, um, plan of yours…” he gestures to the vague tension in the air. “It doesn’t feel like you.”

“I’m trying to save the mission. That has always been my top priority.”

“Yeah, I’m still not clear on how this benefits the mission.”

“Yoongi said…” you start to say, but are cut off my Hoseok’s derisive snort.

“Look, if you’re in love with Yoongi, just go date him, okay? Don’t feel obligated to include the rest of us out of pity.”

You frown. “I’m not… I’m not in love with him. It’s just sex. Just biology.”

“This isn’t you!” Hoseok argues back. “You hated the idea of anyone of us ever treating you that way. And now you just want all of us to… to… use you like that?” He splutters out the end of the sentence.

“No one is using me! This is my plan! I’m in charge!”

He sighs. “Well, I can’t be a part of it. Excuse me.”

______

Taehyung finds you in the gym. It’s good to see him up and about, even if his arm is still in a sling.

“Hey, so I need to talk to you about this, um, ape sex thing.” He fishes awkwardly into his pockets and pulls out his tablet. Maybe Jimin was right. Is Taehyung going to be the first to take you up on your offer?

You pause your jog on the elliptical machine. You wish you weren’t so sweaty and gross for this conversation. Taehyung is such an intimidatingly attractive man with those strong eyebrows and that perfect skin.

Taehyung opens up the tablet and flips to the form. It’s happening. He’s going to sign the form. Shit. Then what will you do? It’s one thing to say you want to have sex with your whole crew, but what if he’s hoping to go right now? You need a shower.

Taehyung has really nice hands. Long strong fingers delicately navigating the touch screen. It seems totally improbable that a man this attractive would be into you, even if you were the only woman in the universe. It just adds to your suspicions that hormones are driving everyone crazy. Perhaps if you slept with him once, he’d lose all interest.

He finds the form and then turns his gaze up to you, staring you down with those eyes. It’s a good thing that Taehyung rarely turns his full gaze on you, because it is almost too much to bear. Shit, is he just going to sign it? Is he waiting for you to give him some sort of signal?

“You can’t do this to Jimin,” he says.

“What?” Not what you were expecting. “Do what to Jimin?”

“This.” He gestures over the HR form. “Signing these forms with everyone. Having sex with everyone. You’re going to destroy Jimin.”

“Jimin’s the one who suggested this whole thing in the first place.” It’s a lie. You know its a lie. Or at least a gross exaggeration. But Jimin was the one who first brought up the idea of sharing. All for the benefit of the man in front of you now.

“No way.” Taehyung scoffs, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “No way was it Jimin’s idea that you sleep with the whole crew.”

“Well…” You can’t bear his gaze anymore and look down at the floor. “He wanted me to sleep with you.”

That surprises Taehyung. He puts down the tablet. “What? Why would he want that?”

This is awkward. “He, um, thinks you’re in love with me.”

“What?” There is only surprise on Taehyung’s face. It’s actually a relief to see that Taehyung is just as shocked by that idea as you were. “Why does he think that?”

“I don’t know…” You feel kind of dumb now. Of course, Taehyung doesn’t feel that way about you. Look at him. “Cause you told him you were jealous. Cause you can’t stand to be in the same room as us…”

Taehyung bites his lip. “Oh, um, shit, sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

If Taehyung isn’t jealous of Jimin...

“Taehyung…” He looks up, biting his lip. “What did you mean? Who are you jealous of?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he reaches for his microphone and mutes it. Out of respect, you mute yours as well. He glances toward the camera in the corner of the room, then stands up and begins unzipping his jumpsuit.

“Um…” You are distracted by the golden arms that peak from either side of the tank top as the zipper reaches his groin. “What are you doing?”

“Need something to block the camera.”

“We have towels,” you mutter. But he’s already stripping out of his shirt. The musculature of his back ripples. He hangs the shirt off of the camera to block the rest of the room from view.

“Yeah, but this way anyone watching will think we’re having sex.” His chest is just as attractive as his back and you flush at the sight of it. Mercifully, he zips back into his jumpsuit as he returns to his position in front of the exercise machine.

“You want them to think we’re having sex?”

“Don’t you? It plays right into your whole save the mission with bonobo sex plan.”

“I suppose.” Though the plan was also supposed to be that there would be no more secrets between the crew. “What plan of yours does it play into?”

“The one where Jimin doesn’t realize I’m in love with him.”

“You’ve never tried to tell him?”

Taehyung laughs wryly and shakes his head. “How would that conversation go? Hey man, I know we’ve known each other for years and I’ve already seen you naked and that you just think of me as a friend, but I’m in love with you. I know that’s awkward but now you have to spend the next twelve years with me, knowing that I’m attracted to you when you don’t feel the same way.” Taehyung sighs. “Doesn’t sound like a good plan to me. If he doesn’t feel the same way, I’ve just ruined the friendship for nothing and then I don’t even have that.”

“Yeah… I get that.” There’s something touching about realizing that Taehyung has been fighting the same battle as you for the last two years.

“I couldn’t tell anyone before launch because what if they wouldn’t let me go then? You know?”

“Yeah, the director wasn’t big on sending anyone who might ‘complicate’ the mission.” The two of you share a sad knowing smile.

“Yeah… And I thought it would be fine, you know? I like women too. I’d just date women until launch and no one would know. I wasn’t planning on falling in love with my roommate.”

“I don’t think any of us really knew what this would be like.”

“I knew it was going to be a problem. I should have pulled out…”

Your mind flashes back to that moment of doubt when Hoseok talked you into still coming on the mission.

“But I couldn’t just let him go off into space without me. Even if he’d never feel the same way, at least he’d still be in my life.”

The emotion in Taehyung’s words makes your eyes begin to mist. “You really do love him.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung sighs again. “But he’s in love with you.”

“Well, he thinks he is.”

“What does that mean?”

“He only feels like that about me cause he thinks I’m the only option.” You wonder if maybe he would feel differently if he knew about Taehyung’s feelings.

Taehyung frowns and shakes his head. “You don’t give him enough credit.”

“Oh come on, you know him. How many women did he date while we were in training?”

“A few…”

“And how many of them was he in love with before he found the next one?”

Taehyung bites his lip. He can’t really argue with that. “So why are you with him then, if you don’t think it’s real?”

You shrug, rubbing your arm. “He wants me. It’s nice to feel wanted, I guess.”

“You know you could have that with any man on this ship right?”

You scoff. “They’re all suffering the same delusion. It’s only-available-vagina syndrome. I just want us all to fuck and get it out in the open. Maybe if we could get it out of our system, they would see I’m nothing special. And then we can get back to the mission.”

Taehyung eyes you up and down. “You don’t give yourself enough credit either.”

You shrug. “You wait and see. Jimin will get bored of me. They all will.”

The two of you both slump backwards in your seats, mulling over your shared woes. Taehyung bends down and picks up the tablet again. “So what should I do with this?”

“Obivously, you don’t have to sign it. I should have realized that not everyone would be interested.”

“Jimin thinks I’m in love with you?”

“Yeah…”

“Is it okay if we let him think that for now? At least until I figure out how to tell him the truth?”

“Okay.”

Taehyung smiles and signs the bottom of the form, then sends it to you. Your phone lights up with a message. “Thank you,” he murmurs before he leaves.

#I'm not going to answer asks about the spoilers right now #because I want people to be able to avoid them until the chapter drops #but that should be sometime in the next week or so #votes for void

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goldenboywrites · 4 years

Text

mistakes like this

“I have to go,” August murmured against swollen lips. Colter’s hand pressed against the wall right next to August’s head, trapping him in place. “I really have to go.” He turned his head, kissing at Colter’s wrist and relishing in the sigh that slipped past his lips. “And you have to go too. You know what’ll happen if you’re late meeting your father.” Lips pressed against his temple and then against the corner of his mouth. Colter turned August’s face towards his own and tried unsuccessfully to deepen their kiss. He turned his head against Colter’s palm, kissing it lightly. “Did your father say what he wanted to see you about?” The Prince shrugged and August nipped at his thumb.

“I’m sure I did something wrong and he wishes to berate me.” August’s gaze softened at Colter’s words. “He didn’t specify just that it was urgent.” His hand cupped the back of Auggie’s head and he pulled him in, kissing him hard. August returned the kiss eagerly, nearly forgetting that he was meant to be at an archery lesson in five minutes. “Go,” Colter moaned out against his lips. His hand slid down August’s body until he gripped the doorknob firmly in his hand and turned it. “Go before I change my mind and keep you here all day.”

August beamed, leaning forward and kissing Colter’s chin. Sometimes it was hard to remember that Colter wanted him, needed him, loved him. He was the future King. He was gorgeous and handsome. He was strong and brilliant. The fact that every day he chose August. “Love you,” Auggie whispered as he slipped out the door before Colter made good on his promise.

____________________________________________

He spread his feet apart and jutted his right hip out towards the target. Auggie drew an arrow, nocked the arrow to the bowstring, and lifted the bow. In one loose, fluid motion, with his sight on the target, August released the arrow and watched as it flew through the air. It hit right in the center. He was getting better which was a relief because he quite enjoyed archery though it took a long time for him to get to this point. He drew another arrow and inhaled sharply before releasing it. It landed right next to his first. August usually wasn’t one for any outside-based activity. He liked the comforts of being inside but this was something he had discovered randomly and loved.

With the fresh air surrounding him, the sun beaming down on him, August grinned and ran his finger along the bowstring. The feeling of holding the bow, of releasing an arrow into the air was indescribable. He felt free out here and it didn’t hurt that he was really good at it. All of his strengths were usually tied to knowledge and researching. He was good at strategy but out here? It was finally something physical he was good at it.

August pulled out another arrow and prepared it against the bowstring. He was seconds away from releasing it when he felt hands at his waist and breath tickled his head. “Miss me?” The arrow slipped from his grip and it fumbled through the air, missing the target completely. August pushed his elbow back into the man’s gut and turned around to see his worst nightmare standing behind him, a devilish smile plastered on his face. Auggie felt sick. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Everett Townsend stood there in the flesh. August stumbled back as if he had seen a ghost. He never thought he would lay eyes on Everett ever again and if there was one thing August hated the most it was being caught off guard.

“You’re decent,” Everett said, walking towards the target, admiring the arrows August had shot into the target. “I didn’t think you were good at stuff like this but I’ll admit, it’s been a while. I’m sure you’ve changed since the last time we were here together.” Everett, August, and Colter had grown up together in the castle. While August had been invited to be one of Colter’s valet’s, Everett’s father had purchased his place. It never sat well with Auggie. Everett was a trouble maker. He lived carelessly and dangerously. He would always lead Colter into trouble and August tugged along to pick up the pieces. “I think we both have grown since the last time I was here.” It sounded like a veiled threat. “Colter too.”

Everett stood in front of the target and turned to face August. He reached out and trailed a finger along the arrows bedded into the cushion of the target. “Like I never remember you being this quiet before. I must have really shocked you with my presence. I bet you thought you would never see me again.” He quirked an eyebrow challengingly. “I have to admit it took a lot of time to pardon me for the nasty rumors that were spread about me working undercover for a political group rising up against the King. My father was working towards disowning me and nearly did.” His eyes darkened and his glare bored into August. As if he knew the truth… but there was no way he could. He had been careful. “But in the end,” August tightened his grip on his bow, “even with the vast amount of evidence against me… the King is pardoning me. He believes I was set up.” Auggie gritted his teeth. “I’m moving back.”

“That’s wonderful,” August spoke through gritted teeth.

“You think so?” Everett tilted his head to the side, the smile back on his face.

August nodded because he didn’t know what else to do at that moment.

“I think so too. The King believes Colter needs some more balance in his life. I guess he doesn’t like the direction his son is going in.” It was a way to say that the King thought August had too much influence. He lived at court long enough to read between the lines. “Thinks the Prince is too soft.” August lifted the bow and nocked the arrow, briefly leaning his face against the feather end of the bow as Everett continued to bait him. “I’m sure you’re doing your best, August. But let’s face it, out of all of Colter’s boys you’ve never been the King’s favorite. He believes you to be weak.” August trembled, his fingers itching. “You’re making Colter weak. Maybe you’ll be the next one to leave court.”

He saw red and against his better judgment, August let the arrow fly. His breath was caught in his throat as it hit the target, millimetres away from Everett’s face. The man hadn’t flinched, hadn’t moved, just stood there grinning back at August as if like he could see directly into his soul. The arrow had nicked Everett’s cheek, a thin line of blood seeping from the cut. The man reached up and wiped the blood off of his cheek, a low tsk, tsk sound escaping past his lips. He stalked forward until he was toe to toe with August. “I see you for who you really are, August. The King might think you’re weak but I know better. I know who you really are.” He raised his hand, fingertips covered in his own blood. “I know you’re anything but weak. Before I wasn’t prepared for you but I am now.”

Everett stepped aside and walked past August. It was then that he realized he had been holding his breath. Everett was back at court. He was back and he had some idea that August had had a hand in his exile. Or he thought August had and was trying to intimidate him into admitting it. Which he... Auggie inhaled sharply and walked towards the stand to hang his bow up. He had to get to Colter before Everett did. But how could he tell Colter what he had done? He couldn’t but he also couldn’t have Everett breathing down his neck holding this over him either.

August hung his head and followed Everett off of the grounds and back to the castle, an unsettling feeling pitted in the bottom of his stomach. This was going to end well, he just didn’t know for who.

He continued to stay paces behind Everett as they entered the castle. August wasn’t sure if Colter was back in his room or if he was still with his father. Everett turned left to his own quarters wordlessly and August tried not to let it bother him that he was in the room between August’s own quarters and Colter’s. Auggie didn’t bother going into his own room or even pretending that was where he was going. He went straight to Colter’s quarters and slipped inside, relieved to see the Prince standing at the window, hands on his hips.

“Colter?” August asked hesitantly, he assumed that the King had called a meeting to inform the Prince that Everett was coming back. Colter would be pleased if not over the moon at the return of his old childhood friend. If the King had any inkling that August had set Everett up, he would have been arrested at the door to the castle. He never would have made it this far. So at least he had that going for him. Maybe the King knew nothing and Everett was just speculating. August had been calculated and careful but despite that, Everett had always had it out for him. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.” He was testing the waters carefully, trying to judge Colter’s mood. “What’s going on?”

#mistakes like this

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scripttorture · 4 years

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I’m not sure if you’ll be comfortable answering those, but with recent police brutality in the U.S, I want to write about police torture of protestors and protestors’ feelings. I have a wheelchair user Latina girl and a blind Black trans man. They will be arrested together after the trans man tries to talk down a cop (inspired by a real video) and I wanted them both to be tear gassed. I have experience with police brutality, but was not arrested.

Part 2- How do they arrest blind people and wheelchair users? I understand mobility aids are usually taken away. Does this apply to canes for blind people? Also, I was going to have them in holding for 1 day with no treatment for their eyes after being tear gassed. Is this realistic or do you think police should pour water on them? I was going to involve the arrested characters all going on hunger strike, which might cause the police to transport them to booking faster. Does this sound okay?

‘Comfortable’ feels like the wrong word for all of this subject to be honest. I don’t think I could do this if I was comfortable, I am incandescent with rage. I am furious that the world we live in is still infested with this pointless, preventable brutality. Yes I am essentially a ball of rage and ferrets.

And a portion of that is about the fact it only really makes the news when it affects wealthy countries. Seeing the response in Kenya and Nigeria to these movements/events in the West has been… interesting.

Let’s start off with some definitions here because I think that will help as we discuss the story idea.

Realism in the context of these discussions doesn’t necessarily mean ‘this would happen to 100% of people in this situation.’ If we’re talking about torture techniques used and treatment of particular groups in society then it’s less a case of ‘does this happen or not’ and more a case of ‘how often does this happen?’ ‘how likely is this?’

Most modern torture is ‘clean’, which means that it doesn’t leave obvious external marks. But you do still get incidents (including in rich Western countries) where scarring torture occurs. They just a lot rarer.

And, continuing this example, if a writer came to me asking about writing a scarring torture in a modern setting I’d warn them about the implications that can go with that. I’d talk about how survivors of clean tortures are dismissed and belittled. I’d talk about how the harm clean tortures do is downplayed. And I’d say that while there’s nothing wrong with wanting to use a scarring torture in a story, when we do it’s important to be aware of the context: that scarring tortures are rare and that they’re not ‘worse’.

Everything you’ve described for your story is possible and it’s the sort of thing that’s more common in the country and time period you’ve chosen for your story.

I’ve found it difficult to get hold of larger studies focused on the US. A lot of the statistical analysis I’m seeing focuses on mental illness or doesn’t draw a distinction between mental illness and physical disability. That can be pretty common when you’re looking up stuff about disability. It can be a helpful approach in some respects, showing how the disabled population broadly is discriminated against. But it also masks things that affect particular sub sections of the disabled population by lumping everyone in together.

The Prison Policy Initiative has a page here you might find helpful, but most of these articles focus on mental illness and low IQ. Solitary Watch has a frankly horrifying list of cases in a prison where the disabled were routinely denied treatment and left in neglectful conditions that amount to torture. (The list includes a blind man denied a cane for 16 years.)

Based on individual cases I’ve read I’d say that what you have planned is realistic, in the sense that it is possible. Similar things have occurred in America.

In the absence of clear statistics on the number of disabled people in custody in the US, let alone how they’re treated, I’m finding it difficult to say how common this would be.

Part of the problem is a lack of consistent standards or definitions across the country. This is from a Reuters investigative piece on deaths and abuse in US jails: ‘Seventeen states have no rules or oversight mechanisms for local jails, according to Reuters research and a pending study by Michele Deitch, a corrections specialist at the Lyndon B. Johnson School of Public Affairs at the University of Texas. In five other low-population states, all detention facilities are run by state corrections agencies. The other 28 have some form of standards, such as assessing inmates’ health on arrival or checking on suicidal inmates at prescribed intervals. Yet those standards often are minimal, and in at least six of the states, the agencies that write them lack enforcement power or the authority to refer substandard jails for investigation.’ (Emphasis mine, full article series can be found here. It contains video footage of torture (beating), some graphic descriptions of racist abuse and miscarriage.)

What this means for you is that there’s massive variation between jails in the US. The variation affects everything from the structure of the jail itself, to staffing levels, to workplace culture, to oversight, to provision of medical care. Basically some jails are a lot more abusive and dangerous then others.

It’s also difficult to identify problem facilities because, as the Reuters article points out, a lot of the relevant statistics aren’t released to the public. Reuters came up with their statistics by examining jail records and reporting of deaths or abuse in local newspapers over a period of several years.

In some of the accounts from US prisoners I’ve read people were allowed to keep wheelchairs. In others they were taken away.

The cases where wheelchairs were taken were generally reported as part of a wider pattern of torturous neglect. I do not have enough evidence or cases here to say that that’s always the case: I don’t think this proves that prisons or jails which take mobility aids always neglect disabled prisoners. Because I don’t know whether taking a mobility aid, in and of itself, would be reported if it wasn’t happening alongside prisoners being left lying in their cells for days, unable to eat or clean themselves.

I’ve tried my best to read about disability generally over the years. Because I live in the UK most of what I know about disability is based here. I know about attitudes in Saudi, where I grew up and a little about Cyprus where my family is from.

Based on what I know about disability generally I’d say that when mobility aids and canes are taken away neglect and abuse are more likely. And I think that would include being left in a cell, having been tear gassed, with no water.

In terms of physically arresting people with disabilities, well there are problems with abuse of disabled people the world over. I’ve heard stories from a lot of different countries about people being ripped out of wheelchairs, being tackled, being dragged. Unfortunately a lot of people are taught to doubt disability and to treat obviously disabled people with contempt.

But you should remember that I read about the worst case scenarios. My knowledge is focused on abuse and ideas about what encourages or discourages it. Which can skew the perception of how common these things are. (I really wish I could find some decent statistical data here, the absence is maddening.)

I think part of the way to approach this is to break it down and figure out how many groups these characters are being passed between. I don’t actually know how the booking in process in the US works. (I’m sorry but the nature of the blog is that I’ve got a lot of broad knowledge, I’m not an expert on every police system in the world.)

The standard of treatment could easily vary between the people making the arrest and the people actually holding the prisoners.

And all of this means that I think you’ve got a lot of leeway here. There’s a big range of things that are possible here. So there’s scope to choose how bad it’s going to be.

You’re already doing that to some extent with the way you’ve planned this out and thought it through. That’s good, it’s important to work within your limits and focus on the elements you’re interested in.

There will be real cases similar to your story that went a lot worse and there’ll be cases where things went a lot better. No one story can capture everything and that’s OK.

I think these characters will probably be acutely aware that things could go very badly for them. They’ll probably have heard stories about people of their race, disability and gender being abused or even murdered by police. Use that in the story. Try to bring some of that fear and rage and defiance into the story.

I’m not sure what kind of cultural weight hunger strike carries in the US. I can link you to my masterpost on starvation which outlines the physical and psychological effects of hunger.

I also want to leave you my masterpost on solitary confinement, because I’m aware that US jails and prisons often put vulnerable prisoners straight into solitary.

It’s really clear just from your question that you’ve already put a lot of thought into this and done a fair bit of reading. Keep going.

You’re probably going to need sensitivity readers. It’s also probably going to take a lot of time, editing and re-reading to get this story as good as you want it to be.

And it’s going to be hard. Researching this stuff is incredibly exhausting. For the love of gods take breaks. I’ve got a guide to researching difficult topics here. It can be hard to follow the advice there, hell I struggle to sometimes, but you can’t let this stuff poison you.

I hope that helps :)

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#writing advice #tw torture #tw racism #tw police brutality #tw transphobia #tw ableism #disability #clean torture #tear gas #pepper #America #American National Style #jails #abuse of prisoners #prison systems #blind characters #paralysis

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