#if i don’t do everything possible to please her i’m a ‘rotten little brat’ who’s ‘going to be sorry’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jackrrabbit · 4 years ago

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Spoiled Rotten /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Request: What if Overhaul fucks spoiled rich reader because her dad owes the yakuza money and in exchange Kai takes the daughter as a form of payment using her as his personal stress doll whenever and wherever he wants making her into his perfect little doll

A/N: While I was writing this my roommate asked if I was okay bc cause I kept stopping to fan myself and blush lmaooooo god I’m such a brat. I did change the concept up a bit, hope that’s fine!

This is dedicated not only to the OG requester but also to everyone who read the excerpt I posted a while back and told me they couldn’t wait to see the finished product!! Love you guys ❤️

Tags/warnings: threats, dubcon/coercion, dom/sub, brat taming, degradation, exhibitionism, restraints, mentions of forced prostitution, verbal & physical harassment, kidnapping, kinda breath play?, long

The first thing you notice when you come to are voices. Multiple people talking to each other, speech overlapping in patterns you can’t make out. They’re quiet—not whispering for your sake, but quiet because you’re still half knocked-out and you can barely hear.

The second thing you notice is the pounding in your head and the lingering smell of something sweet spread over your nose and mouth.

The third thing you notice is the fact that when you try to blink your eyes open, your lashes brush against something soft and dark. You’re blindfolded…and gagged, and your hands feel like they’re cuffed behind your back. From what you can sense around you, it seems like you’re hunched in a kneeling position with your cheek flattened against the floor and your bare feet tucked under your backside.

At least you’re still in your nightgown. You can feel the frilly silk of it, a useless barrier between your skin and the cool air, and it reminds you of how you got here in the first place.

A loud noise in the night. Your father’s voice pleading. A heavy thump. The door to your bedroom banging open and a strange man holding you down to your bed…lifting a sweet-smelling rag to your mouth…telling you to “take a deeeeep breath, princess.”

“Hey, I think she’s waking up.”

An invisible hand fists itself in your hair and you whine in pain as your upper body is lifted off the floor. Once you’re properly upright, you hear squeaking, shoes against concrete, and the heat and breath and presence of someone behind you. Something rustles at the back of your head—you’re too scared to move so you stay still—and then the blindfold is being lifted off your face.

Once it’s gone, you have to blink for a moment even despite the low light of the dingy room where you’ve…apparently…been kidnapped. By the freaking yakuza. And for some reason, they’re all wearing bird-beak masks.

You close your eyes, almost wishing they hadn’t taken the blindfold off. You’d prefer to live in blissful ignorance of how decidedly unclean the floor is. How dare they let your face touch it? What happened to honor among thieves?

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Against your will, your eyes flick up to the speaker. He’s the only one sitting, and somehow that gives him a position of power among the others. The leader?

Unsettling golden eyes rest on yours, and you realize he’s waiting for your answer, so you slowly move your head from side to side.

“Didn’t know about daddy’s bad habits, huh?” This time the person speaking is behind you, the one who untied your blindfold, a thin man with lank, greasy blond hair. He’s the one who drugged me, you remember in a surge of panic, and you try to stand up away from him only for him to step on the chain that connects your handcuffs, jerking you back and pinning you—painfully—to the floor.

“Careful, Setsuno. I told you not to leave marks. Let her talk.”

“Got it, boss.” The blond—Setsuno—fumbles at the back of your head and then he’s pulling the gag out of your mouth.

You open and close your mouth a few times to stretch out the stiff muscles. “Oh. My. God. Was that polyester you just took out of my mouth? Do you have any idea how bad synthetics are for sensitive skin? I’m totally going to break out.”

A hush falls over the little room. You could hear a pin drop.

“…Are you complaining about the quality of the fabric we gagged you with?” the leader asks after a second.

“You may be yakuza, but you don’t have to act like savages,” you reply primly, aligning your knees together and sending a proud look off to the side.

“Ohh…little princess deserves better, does she?” Setsuno coos. He edges closer to rub his cheek against yours and laughs when you cringe away from him. “Boss, you shoulda seen her bedroom. All pink and frilly, looked like royalty lived there. Bet they treat you like a real princess at home, huh? No wonder your daddy’s in debt.”

“Daddy isn’t—“

“Your father…took out loans from my gang. My men came last night to collect,” the leader says, drumming his fingers over the armrest of his chair impatiently.

He’s wearing plastic gloves. Why is he wearing plastic gloves? Immediately your mind is spinning, imagining all the different gruesome possibilities of what they’re going to do to you. “That’s ridiculous. My daddy doesn’t need to borrow money—“

“Clearly he does, because it looks like he pissed it all away on his daughter.” The leader’s eyes are cold enough to make you shiver—although maybe that’s just the icy temperature of the floor soaking through your nightgown.

“He had a couple payments overdue, so we stopped by to ask nicely for him to pay up,” Setsuno says, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Didn’t find too many valuables in your house, but then we got our hands on a real treasure.”

“Don’t touch me—“

“You don’t seem to understand the position you’re in,” the leader says. “When I made my contract with your father, he understood that obligations like these are inherited. Since he can’t pay his debt, you’re going to be working it off in his place.”

Working it off? You swallow. Somehow you don’t think he’s talking about your little part-time job as a receptionist at your daddy’s company. “You can’t make me do that.”

“I’m not sure you’re getting the gist, princess,” Setsuno hums. “What we’re gonna do is we’re gonna put you in a room, and then men are gonna give us money, and then we’ll let those men fuck you. All that money’s gonna go toward paying what your daddy borrowed. Sound good?”

For the first time since you can remember, you’re shocked speechless. They’re going to…what? But you’re a quick thinker, and instead of letting these filthy, awful gangters boss you around, you raise your chin haughtily to look directly into the leader’s eyes. “I don’t think so. If Daddy’s the one who got himself in debt, you can make him whore himself out to pay it back. You can’t hold me responsible for something he’s done.”

Another brief silence, and then you hear a whistle echo out from the corner of the room (and you try not to look toward it, reminding yourself that this can only get worse if they know how scared you are). “She’s got a mouth on her, Overhaul,” someone says.

Overhaul. So the leader’s name is Overhaul. How ridiculous; it sounds like a villain’s name.

“Aww, princess,” Setsuno says, and once again his voice is too close for your comfort. “Little spoiled princess doesn’t know how to shut her mouth and suck it up when things don’t go her way? Well…you’ll learn.”

You don’t want to know what he’s talking about, although if you thought about it for more than a second it’d be obvious. You suck in a harsh breath and the cool, damp air stings against your dry throat. “You can’t just make me—“

“Ohh, I think we can. See, if your daddy’s been spending all of the Shie Hassaikai’s money on his precious daughter, don’t you think you owe a little too? Like, this dress—“ you jump as Setsuno’s hand tugs on the thin, floaty silk— “was bought with Overhaul’s money, so it belongs to him, right?”

You keep quiet, not wanting to prompt him to go further, but when his hands stroke up over your waist to grope your breasts in full view of everyone else in the room, you don’t really have to guess.

“And, y’know, your daddy’s been keeping you nice and healthy with Overhaul’s cash, making sure you grow up into such a pretty girl…” Setsuno’s voice is a purr in your ear as his hands squeeze your tits almost lovingly, then pinch your nipples through the fabric. “So hey—if you think about it, this tight little body…belongs to Overhaul too. Isn’t that right, sir?”

You squirm in place as best you can but with the metal cuffs digging into your wrists, there’s nothing you can do to get away from his touch. You’re desperate enough to shoot a terrified glance up at the leader—surely there are rules about treating an innocent girl like this, even for the yakuza—but he looks as unmoved as before. “Get her out of my sight. We’ll give her a rest for the next few days, and then…”

“No!” you yelp, too panicked to keep up the pretense of confidence. “I won’t, I can’t do that, please don’t make me—“

“Shhh. You’ll get used to it, princess. And if you don’t…” Setsuno’s hand combs though your hair and then trails down your neck, tracing the path of your spine between your shoulder blades. “…well, you won’t really have much of a choice, will you?”

And then he’s tugging on your cuffed hands, pulling you to a standing position, but you wriggle away from him and do everything you can to stay planted on the ground so they can’t take you away from here, away from the only man who is capable of stopping this. Overhaul. “Please! I’m— I can work it off another way! I’ll be useful— I’ll—“

Overhaul leans forward a fraction in his chair, and you wonder if you’ve caught his interest. “What, exactly? How do you think you can be useful to me?”

You bite your lip and wrack your brains, not knowing whether the question is rhetorical. What skills do you have that would be valuable to them? Suddenly all the knowledge you’ve gained in your short life seems so meaningless. You’re a decent receptionist (well, decent is a stretch), but if Overhaul wanted someone to answer calls for him you’re pretty sure he would’ve asked.

Why did you spend your life learning such impractical skills? The four-year weekend course you took on horseback riding jumps to mind and you want to hit your head against the wall. Why didn’t you ask your father to sponsor a class in something that would actually matter in the long run? And what would even be useful to these people? Accounting? Bookkeeping? Extortion?

There’s nothing valuable you can offer. You’ve wasted your life, and now you’re going to pay for it. Seriously, the only thing you’re actually good at is keeping your boyfriends (or, rather, the men you cycle through once a month) happy until the novelty wears off and you get bored and move on to the next lovesick target—

—wait. Keeping your boyfriends happy. That’s a skill, isn’t it?

Once, a little bit after you turned eighteen, you’d had a rather illicit conversation with one of your more sexually adventurous friends about being a sugar baby. Your friend had just secured a very generous benefactor, and you’d been so intrigued by all the designer purses and vacations to Cabo that you’d almost considered trying it for yourself. She’d even helped you set up a profile on Seeking Arrangements that listed your physical features and interests, but you’d blanched when it came time to post photos.

“But why do men even like this?” you'd asked your friend after your picture-less profile received its dozenth unsolicited offer. “Rich, successful guys shouldn’t have so much trouble finding girlfriends that they have to resort to paying for sex.”

“It’s a power trip,” she’d replied. “Most men never get the chance to have a woman who’s willing to do and be whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. You’re his ideal girlfriend, his therapist, his wife, and his stress relief all in one.”

At the time, you’d decided against it, deleting your profile and telling your friend you’d rather just keep taking advantage of your real father doting on you than have to fake orgasms for rich men in their 50’s. But back then, you’d had a choice; now that you’ve been kidnapped by a gang who wants you to get fucked by a bevy of strangers to pay off a debt you’ve never even heard of, you no longer have the privilege of a way out. Or, at least, the options are a lot less appealing than before.

You tilt your head back to Overhaul, eyeing him for the first time with real scrutiny instead of prideful disgust. Judging from what you can see of his face under the ornate bird mask (and again, what is with the freaking bird masks?), he’s fairly young, mid-twenties at the oldest. Short, sort of wavy dark hair (you’ve always had a thing for dark hair), a trim suit and tie, and those eyes. Like he can read your mind just looking at you.

He’s…handsome enough, you have to admit to yourself. But it’s not just that. There’s something pristine about him, something untouchable that commands discipline. He’s clean. You and him are probably the only clean things in this hovel of a room.

“Well? I’m waiting,” Overhaul says.

And now that you’ve got the idea in your head, it’s almost too embarrassing to meet his gaze. But you can do this; you have to do this. At least it’ll be your choice, and—you’re hoping—it’ll be better than the alternative.

“I could be yours,” you tell him, taking pride in the fact that your voice isn’t breaking.

His eyes narrow and you think god, his eyelashes are long. It’s not fair. Men never appreciate having long eyelashes. What is he thinking? Is he going to kill you for even suggesting it? But it’s too late now…you have to dig yourself a little deeper if you don’t want to go through with their original plan for debt fulfillment.

You force your muscles to relax, knowing this’ll be impossible to pull off if you’re tense and biting down on the words like they’re going to choke you. If you’re going to make him believe it, you have to make yourself believe it too. “You… This job must be hard. Even for a—a powerful man like you, it has to be stressful, right? Always looking out for the interests of the gang instead of your own…needs.”

Overhaul doesn’t move, but you’re so focused on him it would be impossible for you to miss the way a single muscle in his neck flexes. You’ve hit a nerve.

You take a cautious step toward him, trying to channel the sexually-liberated vixen you consider yourself when you’re not in your nightgown surrounded by men who could murder you with their bare hands and not miss a minute of sleep. “You’re always giving, aren’t you? Looking toward the future of the gang? Doesn’t it get frustrating when—when a pretty thing is in front of you and you don’t even get…a little taste of her?”

Oh god, you can feel the humiliated heat rushing to your cheeks. How can you be saying this? You’ve played the role of seductress plenty of times before, but never in such a risky situation. You just have to keep moving toward him and hope it feels authentic enough to convince him.

“You’ve worked hard. And…like he said, my—my body belongs to you.” Now you’re close enough to Overhaul and he hasn’t stopped you, so you lower yourself onto the floor, knees bumping softly into the cold surface. Kneeling between his legs.

Overhaul stares down at you, gaze as sharp and cold as before—and you’re sick with anxiety, so scared you can feel your hairs raising up on end—but if he wanted you to stop, he would have said something, right? So you shuffle a little closer and nuzzle your cheek over the inside of his clothed thigh like a kitten, then raise your head up to him to give him your best bedroom look, the one that says, I want you. I need you. No one but you. The look no man has ever been able to resist.

“…You deserve something to yourself, sir,” you murmur.

There’s a collective intake of breath as every person in the room simultaneously realizes what you’re offering. Overhaul’s expression doesn’t change, but once again, a tendon jumps out white under the skin of his throat and there’s a creak of latex on leather as his grip on the arm of the chair tightens.

“Damn,” Setsuno says under his breath from behind you. Someone whistles. You’re pretty sure you hear the word ‘slut’ being tossed around, but there’s reverence behind it.

“And what makes you think you’re so valuable?” Overhaul asks.

You close your eyes to ground yourself for a second. He’s interested, you know that much. You’ve never really had to convince someone to want you, but there’s a first time for everything. Besides, you only have to look at him for a second to know he does want you, which isn’t a surprise. Who wouldn’t?

“I’ll do anything you want, be anything you want,” you tell him, echoing your conversation with your friend back then. “Take out your anger on me if that’s what you’re into. When you’re tired of me, you can consider my debt paid and let me go.”

“And?” he prompts.

‘And’? And what? You’re offering yourself to him, your body and your mind—what more can he possibly ask from you? You cast your thoughts around, wondering what else you have to give him. “And…and I’ll do it willingly. You, um—you look like a man who appreciates obedience.”

And that’s it. Your last shred of pride is gone. Not only are you offering yourself up to a man to use as his personal stress doll, you’re saying you’ll be compliant every step of the way. Knowing yourself, you’re pretty sure that’s impossible, but you just need to make him believe it long enough for you to find a way out of here. You can pretend to enjoy getting fucked by a gangster a few times. You’ll live.

But you’re naive. And with the stream of thoughts pushing through your head, you never really consider one thing, one essential thing: how you look pleading up at him in that pale pink nightdress—soft, pure, immaculate against the filth of the underworld, the only clean body that Overhaul’s seen in a long time.

And you’re right. He is a man who appreciates obedience.

“Willingly…so you’d be willing to prove it.”

Your head jerks up and down in response. Yes! He’s taking the bait, now I just have to get him alone and—

“Then demonstrate.”

When a moment passes and you don’t move, Overhaul tips his head to the side, gaze still locked on you, and gestures vaguely at his lap. You blink and then shy back, shrinking under the hungry gazes of the onlookers. “You can’t mean—in front of them?”

“And here I thought you were going to be obedient.” There’s no mercy, no amusement in his voice. No hint of humanity.

So he’s serious. He wants you to give him a blowjob in front of—how many? one, two three, four—four other men!? Your first instinct is to jump back away from him and your next is to slap him for even suggesting it; you can actually hear the jingle of your cuffs as you attempt to raise your hand. You’ve gotten a little kinky before—blindfolds, vibrators, maybe a hand tied to the bedpost with a Hermès scarf once or twice, but this is a whole different level. And the way they’re all looking at you…like they’re itching to see you brought down. How absolutely disgusting.

But Overhaul’s waiting for your answer, and you know full well that you’re not going to deny him.

“O-Of course.” You lean forward over the seat of the chair so your face is just inches from his lap. “Um. My hands...?”

They’re still cuffed behind you, but it seems like they’re going to stay that way when Overhaul gives a curt shake of his head. “Use your mouth.”

Once again, you’re stunned into silence. How are you supposed to—? Without your hands? It doesn’t even seem like he’s going to undo his pants for you. It’s like he wants to humiliate you…oh, wait. As soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s clear that’s exactly what he’s trying to do.

You give him another doe-eyed glance, bidding him to at least undo his belt, but he remains unmoved. Bastard.

After aiming another glare at him (because as obedient as you’re attempting to be, you’ve never been good at concealing your emotions) you lean deeper in and take the stiff leather of his belt between your teeth, gently easing it out of the buckle and trying to ignore the mixture of earthy and metallic tastes it leaves on your tongue. It takes a few tries, but eventually you’ve got the tail of the belt out of the buckle and you pull your head back to guide the metal down until the belt is hanging open from its loops.

A rush of accomplishment surges through you when you get it open, and then you want to slap yourself. Accomplishment? From doing this with your mouth like an animal—like a dog? You can hear laughter and mocking encouragement from the men watching, but you steel yourself and dip back in to get Overhaul’s pants undone. The button is tricky, especially with your face nudging into the hard muscle of his abdomen through his shirt, but somehow you manage to tug the fabric slit over the button and then—delicately, delicately—clamp the zipper between your teeth and peel it downward.

“Oh, she’s good,” someone says from the background. Setsuno. You look up warily, but Overhaul’s eyes haven’t moved from you.

Now that you’ve got his pants open, you’re face to face (literally) with what you’re going to have to deal with. The outline of his cock is bulging the fabric of his boxers outward, and he’s not even half erect. You snatch a look back up at him—and damn it, you have to stop doing that, because every time you look into those golden eyes and that stupid bird mask you feel like a lamb looking at a bird of prey right before it snatches you from your safe little lamb-house in the meadow and—fuck, you just have to get on with it.

So you dip down and mouth over him through the fabric, spreading the flat of your tongue over the length of his thick cock. Your mouth feels like you’ve been eating cotton (probably because they drugged you earlier) but you force yourself to salivate, letting drool spill over your tongue and dampen his boxers. When you duck and spread your lips down on the place you can feel the tip stretching out, you know the friction must feel good, because despite the lack of even so much of a deep breath from the man above you, his cock is getting harder.

You nudge your mouth over the tent between Overhaul’s legs again, letting the heat of your breath wash over him—but when he doesn’t do anything, you pull back and blink up at his face. Does he expect you to get him off through his underwear? You could, but most of your moves depend on skin-to-skin contact. There’s no way you can get his cock out with your mouth like you undid his pants, so…what? “Are—are you going to take it out?”

Overhaul brings a gloved hand to his face to rub absently at one of the straps on his mask. “…Beg,” he tells you.

Your mouth drops open and you reel back from his lap like he asked you to lick the dirt off the floor. What!? He can’t seriously expect you to—to beg him to put his dick in your mouth when you’re clearly disgusted at the whole situation. When he doesn’t give any indication of retracting the statement, you can’t help the mocking sneer that forms over your face. “Please, sir,” you spit, and a deaf man could hear the spite in your voice.

Now, that gets a reaction. Overhaul’s eyes flash and you take a certain degree of pride back at the anger you’ve clearly inspired in him. But it’s extinguished as soon as you see it, and then he’s reaching down to cup your chin, tilting your head back and rubbing his thumb over your lower lip.

“I think you can do better than that, princess,” he says, and you can hear your own mocking tone reflected back in his voice. “Unless you’d like me to give my men a turn?”

This, more than anything, scares you. He must be able to feel the way your spine goes stiff, adrenaline rushing, your fight-or-flight instinct kicking in at the prospect of what he’s threatening.

“Each of them, one by one. Between the four of them, I think they could cure that smart mouth…although they might just break you in the process,” he continues, and then his thumb is pressing into your lip, into your mouth, and you loosen your jaw to let him in. You can taste the rubbery latex of his gloves and the other men mutter agreement, encouraging their leader to turn you over to them, and you want to cry.

But you hold the tears back. “Please, sir! Please, please may I s-suck your cock sir? Please!” Your voice is more terrified than obedient, but that’s probably what he’s into anyway. When he doesn’t say anything, you babble on, unwilling to let yourself get gangbanged by a group of men who could probably wreck your pussy in a single round. “Please, please, Mr.—Mr. Overhaul, um, boss? M-Master?”

“Sir will do just fine,” Overhaul says, apparently satisfied, and he pulls his hand away from your face to free his cock from his boxers.

You let out a hot sigh of relief and angle yourself back toward his lap so you can zero in on his cock (and, hopefully, do a little to block out how sickeningly degrading all of this is: how easy it is for him to threaten you; how he has all the power and you have none; how the men around you are goading you, taunting you and calling you things that should get their mouths washed out with soap). You can focus on this, and this, at least, you’re good at. You’ve always been good with your mouth.

It’s a nice dick, too, you have to admit to yourself as you stare at it. Perfect length, girth, and a thick, cut head that you know just by looking that you’re going to have to stretch your jaw to get around. All his hair is neatly trimmed and groomed, and he even smells good, clean and fresh like soap. You’ve never been in front of a dick that didn’t smell like day-old ball sweat, so this is a first. It’s got a nice upward curve, too, and there’s a bead of pearly precum oozing out of the tip. The kind of cock that’s made for penetrative orgasms—

No. Fuck. You cannot be thinking this. You cannot allow yourself to lust after a gang leader who thinks of you as little more than an interactive sex doll. A tingle of blood rushes to your cheeks as you feel wetness pool in your panties and you adjust your stance, shuffling your thighs apart under the pretense of getting closer and hoping Overhaul doesn’t notice.

If he notices, he does the merciful thing and keeps quiet (which makes you think he has no idea you’re feeling the way you’re feeling, because he’s probably never chosen to do the merciful thing in his life). He does, however, shift one of his knees farther apart to accommodate you as you crawl close enough to him to get your head all the way between his legs.

So now you’re staring up at that unfairly pretty cock and wondering how the fuck this is supposed to start, but—best just get on with it. Pretend it’s not him, pretend it’s…no, wait, pretend it is him, it is Overhaul, the same bastard who’s looking down at you like you’re trash, except pretend you’re in control. Because no matter how many orders he gives, once you’ve got his cock in his mouth he’ll have to be the weak one. Right?

Lightly, slowly, you trace the tip of your tongue in a wet path up the underside of his cock, sliding up from the hilt to caress every bulging vein with all the delicacy and accuracy of a surgeon. When you reach the tip, you flatten your tongue to curve it around that bulbous head and then slip it off, the suction providing a wet smacking sound as your skin leaves his.

The breath of his barely-heavier exhale ruffles your hair and you relish the knowledge that he’s getting impatient. Yes. The bastard can wait.

You kiss the tip of his cock, barely moving your lips around the slit, only enough to let your tongue flick out against the precum and gather the bitter liquid up in your mouth. And then—right when he’s getting annoyed, when you can tell by the tension in his body that he’s five seconds away from shoving your head down to fuck your face—you duck closer, relax your throat, and swallow.

Like a fucking python. Or so you’ve been told.

The exhale that escapes him isn’t light this time. You can almost hear the barest hint of a groan under his breath, but you’re more focused on holding down your gag reflex as you let that heavy cock hit the back of your throat. Once he’s all the way down (or at least as far as you can get him), you rock yourself back an inch and then take him deeper, forcing yourself to hold still so he can feel the walls of your throat convulse around him, sucking him in, dry-gagging on the mass that’s filling you up.

“Fuuuuck,” you hear someone whine, and it’s not even Overhaul. It’s one of the men watching, and you feel a perverse mixture of hatred and arrogance rise up in you.

Overhaul’s cock is too big for you to properly moan around it, but you give it a go anyway so he can feel the vibration of your voice through his skin. You’re rewarded with a tangible twitch with it sitting on your tongue, and—oh—your mouth is watering out of where you’re clenching down on him at the back of your throat.

Spittle slips out over your lower lip and onto your chin, but you ignore it in favor of jerking your head up and down in fractional strokes, trying your absolute best to get yourself down to his base but knowing that he probably doesn’t give a shit anyway, not with how good your throat feels around what you’re capable of stuffing in.

What were you saying about ‘valuable’, sir? you think, and then you pull your head off his cock, so slow it’s almost cruel, sucking your cheeks in and hollowing out so those wet walls are rubbing up on every millimeter of his skin. When you reach the tip, you savor it, letting your tongue do the dirty work and looking up at him through your lash extensions before you release him with a nasty wet pop.

“Holy fuck, can I have her next?” one of the other men says, but you and Overhaul are too focused on each other to even look and see who’s talking.

His gaze is trained firmly down at you, and—no way, damn it—he looks bored, like he could be waiting in line at the DMV instead of getting sucked off by you, a girl who’s been complimented by every man she’s ever been with (including her first) on her bj technique. You know he’s feeling it—he can fake calm, but he can’t fake the way his cock’s throbbing under your tongue as you lick up the shaft. Still, now that you’ve got it in your head that Overhaul’s not going to make a sound, all you can think about is forcing him to moan. Let him look weak in front of all his little lackeys.

With renewed vigor, you lap up the length of Overhaul’s cock in sloppy dabs, leaving strings of saliva dripping off your mouth and his cock only to slurp them up, audibly, wiggling your tongue over the tip when you reach it. And that, that gets him, because you feel more than see the buck of his hips into your face as he hisses out a curse.

And—oh dear, maybe you shouldn’t have done that—because the next thing you feel is Overhaul looming forward over you, hand gripping the back of your head, and is he going to force you down? You hate that—so you take the initiative, tilting forward to take him into your mouth again, head bobbing up and down so quickly that your hair is falling all over your face, but it’s okay, because he’s got you, he’s got you, got his hands combed through your hair holding it out of your face, pulling so lightly it barely even hurts, but it does hurt, and he’s guiding you up and down on his cock and it’s hitting the back of your throat every time, and—and it hurts.

You really shouldn’t have done that.

“Take it deeper,” Overhaul instructs, almost encouraging, although you’re not given the option to pull off because he’s holding you down, pushing you firmly toward the base of his cock. You sputter around it, gagging, and you’re almost fucking choking, and he won’t let you up.

God, you’re not—not breathing, you can feel your throat choking down on him—“breathe through your nose,” he says, and this man, this villain has no idea what he’s fucking talking about, because you’re trying, eyes stinging and then you can feel tears down your cheeks. You try to squirm back on your knees, but somehow the combined force of every muscle in your body is outmatched by his single hand on the back of your head—and—and—you squeeze your eyes shut, relax, open your throat as much as you can and—

Overhaul forces your mouth down to the hilt.

Fuck, is he going to keep you there? You can’t, you can’t—if you could move, you’d be shaking your head and begging him to let you stop and as it is you’re whimpering around his cock. Your throat is making gagging noises and you’re crying, actually crying, actually fucking crying on a man’s dick. So this is what it feels like to be used?

“Good.” There’s something lower and darker in Overhaul’s voice, a husky undertone from the growl he’s trying to suppress. “Hold still…remember, you asked for this.”

You did. You asked for it. Begged for it. Pleaded.

“Want me to forgive your father’s debt…? You’re going to have to earn it.” He pulls out an inch just to ram himself back in. You make a weak attempt to move your tongue around his shaft and you can feel the shudder all the way through him, his cock twitching where it’s locked in your throat. “Mm…good girl. Just a little—little longer—“

His fingers are tightening in your hair, curling around the strands and tugging instead of just applying pressure to your head. He’s close, you think, and then you struggle back, not wanting him to cum down your throat, what if you choke on it? Like, really choke? You don’t want it, don’t want his cum in your stomach, but then he sighs and tells you again that you’re a good girl, and ohfuckohfuck you must be so scared you’re desperate for praise because you feel heat rush into your cheeks and your cunt when he says it and you try to move your tongue like you did earlier and his hips jerk forward and—he cums. In your mouth.

It’s salty, you think. The next thing you think is that you want to gag, because you’ve never had cum in your mouth before. For all your sexual experimentation, you’ve never let a man cum down your throat like this, always telling them it shoot it on your tits or whatever because you are not a person who should have semen in her mouth, much less ingest it.

But right now, with Overhaul lazily dragging your head up and down for a last couple pumps on his softening dick, your choice isn’t spit or swallow. It’s swallow or choke.

Hot. Thick. The texture is slimy, so viscous you can feel it going down your throat in strings. Part of you wants to throw up. It’s repulsive. Filthy. You hate this.

Part of you has to shift your position again so you don’t have to feel your own wetness slicking up the insides of your thighs.

How. Is. This. Possible. You may have just had to swallow your pride (and not just that), but what about your dignity? You’re a good person…okay, well, even if you’re not a ‘good person’ per se, you don’t hurt anyone with your selfishness. You don’t deserve to be kept as a pet by a sadistic bastard who gets off on watching you almost pass out on his cock, and you certainly don’t deserve the humiliation of finding that you’re turned on by it.

And yet. Here you are. Still held securely in place until Overhaul slides you off him. As soon as your mouth is free you suck in a dizzyingly deep breath, but even that is too much for your battered throat and the breath turns into a cough; you instinctively fold down away from Overhaul so the mixed saliva and cum you’re hacking out spatters in cloudy white flecks across the floor instead of on his clothing.

“Stop that,” Overhaul scolds, hauling you back up by your hair and forcing your mouth closed with a hand on your jaw. “If you make a mess, you’ll be cleaning it up.”

Considering what he just made you do to him, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s implying you’ll have to lick it off the floor. You clench your jaw, holding back the convulsions of your throat as best you can, and hope he doesn’t press the issue.

Now that you’ve got your coughing under control, you can start to sense things that you had been tuning out before: the men hooting and wolf-whistling and applauding your performance, the traitorously persistent throb of your clit pulsing under your panties, and Overhaul’s hand releasing your chin to pet down your neck. “Now. What do you say when someone gives you a meal?”

Just you wait, bastard. I’m going to tie you to your bed and set fire to it. But you’ve got the sense that that answer won’t go over well, so you take a deep breath and look up at him again, meeting those piercing gold eyes with your own. “Thank you, sir,” you say in a soft whisper because it’s all your abused throat can manage.

“That’s right.” His hands feel colder than the concrete under your legs as he spreads his hand down your neck, only to toy with one of the lacy pink straps of your nightdress. “Stand up.”

You stand shakily, too cowed to even consider stepping back from him. Without warning (much less permission), Overhaul lifts the hem of your stupidly short dress up past your thighs, exposing your panties and lower belly to view.

“Hold this in your mouth,” he says, and after only a few seconds of hesitation you open up and bite down on the fabric so you’re effectively holding up the skirt for him. Overhaul skims gloved hands down the sides of your hips and comes to a rest when he reaches your panties—and why did you have to wear these today? Shiny red satin in the front; the back is just flowers worked in crimson lace. You know exactly how good you look in these panties, and judging by the things Overhaul’s men are saying, they’re more than appreciative of the view.

But Overhaul ignores them in favor of hooking his fingers under the elastic and pulling the panties down until they’re resting stretched between your upper thighs. You don’t have to see them to know there’s a string of slick connecting the lips of your cunt to the fabric, betraying in full technicolor detail how turned on you’ve gotten just from sucking him off. He gazes down at your pussy and then up to you as if waiting for you to admit it, but you stay silent.

“Well, well. What a nicely-trained slut I’ve found myself.” He gracelessly pulls the panties the rest of the way down your legs and lets them fall to the ground. “Do you always get this wet when you let your boyfriends fuck that smart mouth?”

It takes you a second to comprehend that he’s expecting an answer. “N-No, sir,” you reply, voice muffled by the fabric you’re still holding between your teeth.

“I suppose I can’t leave you like this, not after you took me so nicely.”

Does he mean he’s going to get you off? No freaking way. You drop the hem of your dress, let it flutter down over your thighs, try to scramble back, but his hand on your waist keeps you from moving. “I— It’s okay, I don’t need—“

“No, I think you do. I think I’m going to reward my pet for a job well done.” He leans back, eyeing you without sympathy. “I’d have you touch yourself, but—“

The mere possibility that he might remove the handcuffs has you straining against them again, and the sound of metal against metal rings out from behind you.

“—but, I think it’s best to keep the cuffs on for a few days…until you’ve settled down.”

Days? He can’t leave you in chains for days, helpless and powerless, so easy to take advantage of. “You can’t,” you whimper, and even though you mean for it to be a decisive statement, with your throat ravaged and hoarse it’s downright pathetic. Overhaul doesn’t even bother reprimanding you for talking back.

“My men have been patient,” he muses, and an enthusiastic wave of agreement wells up from the others. “Any of them would be happy to do it.”

You may have been through a lot in the past hour alone, but there is no way you’re going to let those rowdy criminals have their way with you. You send a nervous glance around the room and as predicted, not a single one of them looks like they have the slightest shred of control over themselves.

None of them…except Overhaul.

Still eased back in his chair, he looks just as relaxed and unaffected as he did when he was explaining your father’s debts to you. But there’s something flickering in his eyes, something he isn’t going to say to you, isn’t going to say out loud. A challenge.

Maybe, once again, he’s waiting for you to ask for it yourself. And if it’s a choice between him and one of the grimy ruffians who’ve been looking at you like dogs look at meat, you know what you’d prefer. Well—really, you’d prefer option C: none of the above (your current state might be uncomfortable, but you’re not so wanton that you’d rather cum in front of strangers than keep your legs together). Unfortunately, you’re starting to come to terms with the fact that ‘no’ is no longer an option.

Overhaul’s stare flicks from you to an unseen figure behind you, and you can tell he’s about to summon one of them over so you force yourself to move, lurching forward and climbing into his lap to straddle one of his thighs with all the grace you’re capable of. You feel the stir in the air when he inhales sharply, surprised, and his masked face is so close to your neck that you wonder if he can smell the lotion you put on before you went to bed last night.

It’s one of your favorite scents: vanilla, lilac, orange blossoms. You bought it because it smelled pure.

“Please, sir, I don’t want them,” you breathe next to his ear, injecting every ounce of sexual frustration you’re feeling into the needy tones of your voice. “I’m yours. I belong to you, just you. No one else—please, sir…Overhaul.”

He’s quiet for a long, tense moment, and you think he’s going to hit you, or maybe even kill you for your disobedience. Push you off his lap at least. But just when you’re teetering on the edge of jumping back from him and begging for forgiveness for talking out of turn, you feel it—a low rumble of laughter from deep in his chest.

Big, cold hands wrap around the sides of your ribcage under your breasts and his fingernails dig into you through the layers of latex and fabric. He tilts forward, forcing you to arch away and all you can think about is how horribly weak you are compared to him. Are you trembling? Will he be angry if you feels how afraid you are?

“You know, I guess I’ll keep you after all,” he hums, stroking his fingers through your hair and down your neck. “How does that sound, princess? I think you’d like that very much, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” The response comes all too easily, even if the words taste bitter in your mouth. You’ve never said the word ‘sir’ so much in your life…but as he repositions you on his lap and slides a single hand up the inside of your thigh under your dress, you bite your lip and decide to hold back your protest.

If you’re going to have to learn manners, you’d better do it sooner rather than later. Something tells you Overhaul’s not going to accept any less than your best behavior if you want to pay off your debt.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia imagines #mha x reader #mha imagines #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero fanfic #smut #tw dubcon

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lizz-revs · 4 years ago

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Cinderella Phenomenon

This visual novel is completely free. It is an otome game more than a visual novel, but its focus is character growth rather than romance.

Story

A young Crown, Princess Lucette of Angielle, gets cursed by the Fairy Tale curse and is forced to leave her home in order to live in a tavern with other cursed residents of the town. She is everything else but happy about that outcome, but in order to get her previous life back she’d need to lift her curse, which she is unable to do by herself. As the player you can decide, who of the five possible romantic interests can help the heroine (two of the candidates are locked in the beginning). Each of them has a curse as well, which the heroine can lift in the best case, and every curse is based on a fairy tale.

The Characters

Princess Lucette of Angielle

Lucette is in the beginning a kind of a rich brat, who is so devastated at the loss of her mother that she starts to distrust everyone around her. That distrust and rotten personality are ultimately the cause of the curse. She is forced, after changing locations, to learn, how to earn her own money and food and how to cooperate and communicate with other people. Lucette starts to change little by little and how she changes depends on her romantic interest as well as the events in the according route.

Rod

He is a young boy, who is behaving as bad as the heroine in the beginning, but because he is shy. He doesn’t want to bother anyone with his problems, so he just distances himself from everyone. His route explains the reason of the heroine’s dismay at the beginning of the game.

Karma

He is forced to cross-dress in order to protect himself from the romantic interest of women. Karma is at first introduced as a rather self-focussed and arrogant person, but that slowly changes as he gets closer to the heroine. However, he always tries to overplay his caring nature by being overly rude and even cruel to Lucette, but he has a reason to do so.

Rumpel

He is what I would call a flirt and nothing more at the beginning of his route. I mean, he just throws those cliché chat-up lines at every girl or woman he meets and it is just bad. The main character was pretty annoyed at this guy most of the time, but he really grows in his story and realizes that sometimes you need to sacrifice in order to protect.

Fritz

I am pretty biased towards this guy because this was my favourite route. Fritz is the protector of the heroine in the true meaning of this word. Even after her curse, he wants to protect her and he would even sacrifice his life for her. His story actually moved me to tears because it was so heart wrecking to see his affection for her and his love for her and… Well, read for yourselves, no spoilers. I’d say Fritz personality and his curse were truly realistic as well since he was so affectionate towards the heroine and wasn’t prioritizing his own wishes at all by putting it away as his “dark desires/ dark side”.

Waltz

Honestly, Waltz route had the most potential because it was the last route, which was always kind of hinted at in every other route. He is a young boy, who is kind to everyone and seems to have a great affection for the heroine because she had helped him before. He is nice to her in every route (not like a lot of the other characters… even in their own routes). His story has the build-up of the true story, however, I’d still take Fritz story as canon, if I’m honest. Waltz is more of a free spirit, like a traveller that wants to be nice to everyone, especially children. I don’t really think he suits the heroine to be honest.

My Opinion

First about the routes: I would think they were great even in a paid game, but for a free game they were pretty much amazing. It’s a fairly long game (about 15 hours playtime I think) and the developers had an very interesting concept that they turned into reality.

Starting from the main character and ending with her romantic interests all had distinguishable personalities and character development throughout the story. This was of course also a necessity; otherwise, they wouldn’t have had the ability to break their curses.

If I was told to give a more detailed opinion about the different stories, I’d say that some of them I liked better than the others. For example, my favourite route was where the romantic interest was Fritz. This story moved me so much that I’d call it the canon story despite Waltz being the canon love interest. What about Waltz? Well, it was my least favourite route, honestly, more because it was hinted at by every character than because of the actual story. Honestly, Waltz curse is my favourite fairy tale and it would have been a pretty hard job for the game to satisfy me to begin with. But even, if I ignore the fact that I feel like the game has wronged my favourite fairy tale, I pretty much hated the heroine in this route. She was more than an idiot, but since I don’t want to spoil in my reviews, you should see for yourself, what I mean. In addition, the end and the story itself were rather anticlimactic. If it weren’t for the build-up though, I wouldn’t be as disappointed as I was. As for the other routes, they weren’t as amazing as Fritz’s route, but I enjoyed them all nevertheless.

Back to the story in general: I still would call the story really good and say the authors did an amazing job in creating and realizing their idea. Even, if I do have some complaints, I still couldn’t stop reading until I had seen all good and bad endings of every character.

The art was pleasing to the eye as well and the music was nice, although a bit repetitive after a while (since the same soundtracks are used in every route and this game takes a lot of time to read through).

Another great aspect of this visual novel was the right choices indicator, which, if activated, told the player, whether they had chosen the right or wrong option. This was also kind of necessary because the choices didn’t always make sense and sometimes they even lead to misunderstandings since the heroine wasn’t always doing the things that the choices seemed to imply.

Overall, I’d give this a 9/10. I think this is really a nice game and you’re missing something, if you haven’t played it yet. It was one of my first visual novels: A really easy and nice read just right to get into the genre. And the best thing: It’s totally free!

#cinderella phenomenon #review #curator #game #visual novel

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bramblepeltao3 · 4 years ago

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HBD Ardyn

A tiny ficlet that came to me this morning for the trash man’s birthday

Del smirked, very much pleased with her hiding place. She wondered quietly what she would do the day she was no longer small enough to fit anywhere and everywhere. Perhaps by then she could simply make people do whatever she wanted, no sneaking required. Wouldn’t that be cool?

She worked on controlling her breathing to make sure she was as quiet as possible. There weren’t as many workstations in this office, just the one, so not enough fans were buzzing to mask the inconvenient sounds her body made to exist.

Man, having no body at all would be the most cool.

Finally she could hear the door open and two sets of footsteps walking towards her. ‘Yes,’ she thought to herself, ‘he brought the student in this time.’ That was perfect, it meant the lead scientist would be saying all the important stuff out loud to them. The pair of nice, polished shoes sat in the desk chair while the clean but cheap shoes stood next to it.

“There are a number of clearance steps you have to pass to get into this information,” the lead scientist man began, “first is a username that’s different from your standard one. It’s your first initial, last name, and year of birth.”

Del grinned. She could easily figure out that information for the majority of the employees here.

“And the default password is capital M Magitek1234. Make sure you change it when you get started.”

Jackpot! There was no way every single employee took the time to change their password. She was as good as in now.

“Next you need to enter the security clearance code. Write this down but eventually you should probably memorize it…”

Del closed her eyes and listened intently, knowing the pen and paper that was her own memory would capture it with ease.

“And finally you have to click the dialogue box asking if you accept responsibility for what you do on the terminal.”

Oh, yes she would happily accept responsibility on someone else’s behalf.

“And you’re in. Now,”

The six year old listened to the tutorial on how to use the charting system. She would probably be able to figure it out herself, given enough time, but she wanted to spend as much of it as possible reading everything she could.

Halfway through the navigation button explanation, the lead scientist adjusted his legs and kicked the bottom of the desk she was hiding under. She flinched instinctively, but successfully stayed quiet.

Until some dust broke loose into the air and made its way to her. She tried to hold back, even keeping her hands held over her nose and mouth. But the reflexes of the human body could not be stopped, and in spite of herself she sneezed. It was small, barely a squeak, but as soon as she made it the man in charge stopped talking. He pushed his chair back from the desk and whispered something she couldn’t make out.

He knew.

The student bent over, eyes going wide when he saw her.

“Uh, yes Doctor, there is a-”

“I know, her name is Delphia and she’s a rotten little brat. Her room is in the north hallway, number 375. Take her back there and lock the door.”

Del had a single moment to make a decision: she could easily escape from this situation if she so chose to. She could squirm back up the way she came between the wall and the back of the desk (the gap existed so the computer could be plugged into the wall outlet, she only needed to push it a tiny bit to get through). From there she could jump back to the ventilation opening and escape. But then everyone would know her secret passageways and there would certainly be repercussions. So the other option was to simply make this idiot teenager think she was an innocent little girl and ditch his grasp the moment the door opened.

Del put on her best innocent little kid face and crawled out from under the desk. Luckily the dust was already making her eyes water, and she used that to make herself look even more pathetic.

“I’m sorry doctor! I was scared and needed to hide!” She said, laying it on even thicker when she looked towards the younger man.

“You’re a liar and a waste of everyone’s time. This isn’t a daycare, go back to your room!” The old man who had no power over her commanded.

Del temporarily stifled her pride and sniffled. “Yes Sir.” She took the boy’s hand and let him walk her to the door. She had everything she needed now anyway.

“So, Delphia right? How old are you?” The boy asked as they walked through the doorway.

“I’m six years old…” she answered quietly.

“You’re kind of young to be in a place like this. What were you hiding from?”

Del forced her lip to tremble. “The monsters,” she whispered, “they’re all over and they said they’re gonna get me.”

“Awe, I’m sure nothing here would want to hurt a cute little kid like you!”

She tired of this exchange. Pretending to be a big baby made her skin crawl but it certainly had its benefits.

“You can just leave me here, I can get back by myself,” she said while rubbing her eyes with her free hand.

“Oh it’s no trouble Delly.”

WHAT did this guy just call her?

“I’m sorry for being a bother, I know all of you guys are super busy.” She could feel herself willing him to let go of her hand.

The boy looked at her, then back towards the office, and spent a long amount of time trying to think. Del swore she could see smoke coming out of his ears.

“I’d better do what he said. It’s okay though, do you want to sing a song while we walk to make it less scary?”

Fuck. Time for Operation Shock Value.

“No, I don’t want to fucking sing, are you stupid?” Del asked in her normal voice.

The words had their intended effect as the boy let go of her hand and stepped back in disbelief at what he heard.

Del took a moment to stick her tongue out, expose her middle finger, and took off running.

“W-wait, hey, Delphia!” His loud footsteps were quick behind her. The older scientists were much easier to run from.

She turned a corner slightly too fast and slid, barely recovering before falling and continuing on. It gave him enough time to close the gap she’d pushed so hard to create. Just as she thought her fun today was over with, she turned another corner and-

“Uncle Ardyn!” She squealed, slowing to a stop and reaching her arms up to the only adult in the whole star who was worth a damn.

“Well well, what sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into today, Delphia?” The Chancellor asked as the boy’s footsteps stopped behind her.

“Ch-chancellor Izunia?” He asked.

“One and the same,” Ardyn answered with a grin, scooping Del up into his arms. She turned and spit out her tongue once again in a show of victory. “Has my little niece been giving you trouble?”

“N-nie-? Uh, Chancellor, Sir, I was asked to-”

“He was chasing me! I was just trying to play a game and he was so mean.” Del turned to give her puppy dog eyes to Uncle Ardyn. It was simply for the fun of it, as she knew the man could always see right through her.

“Tsk tsk,” Ardyn wagged his finger at her before poking her on the nose, “now what have we said about lying, little finch?”

“That it’s a normal coping mechanism for children from abusive households,” she repeated from memory.

“Indeed it is. And?”

Del huffed. “And it’s still a bad behavior and I should do better to stop relying on it…”

“Very good. You can return to your business now, young man,” Ardyn said politely. He turned around and began to walk down the long hallway, still carrying Del gently.

“Uncle Ardyn I didn’t know you’d be here today!” Del chirped.

He chuckled. “Your father asked me to come by for a special presentation. And one you shouldn’t even think about listening in on.”

“Aaawe,” Del whined. He was the one person she didn’t want to disappoint. So if he said she shouldn’t do something, she would usually behave.

Usually.

“Now now, you wouldn’t mope about on your Uncle Ardyn’s birthday would you?”

“Birthday?” Del asked. She knew in theory that birthdays were an important thing. Her birthdays until now were an excuse for her mother to throw another big party to show her off like a prop. Her sixth birthday came and went with nothing but a simple gift from Uncle Ardyn: a small orange cake. It was the best thing she’d ever eaten in her whole life.

She began to feel a distressing disappointment. “I...I didn’t get you anything!”

Uncle Ardyn laughed before kneeling and putting her down in front of her personal computer terminal. “I have no need of material possessions, but if you would like to do something nice for me on this day, perhaps you could mind your manners at tonight’s dinner?”

She rolled her eyes and stifled a whine. If that’s what he wanted then that was what she would do.

“Okay…” She forgot tonight was her weekly Dinner with Dad night. She much preferred eating in the cafeteria with the interns who found her wit and sass charming. Also they had better food in the cafeteria. “What should I study today?” She asked before climbing into her chair and turning on her terminal.

“Hmm, why don’t you learn how an engine works? And give me a full report at the end of the day.”

She nodded enthusiastically. She loved updating the Chancellor with everything she learned between his visits.

“Yes! I can do that!”

“Very good, now that’s why you’re my favorite niece.” He gave her another gentle tap on the nose, eliciting a snorting giggle.

“Do you have any other nieces?” She asked.

“Oh, now and then.” He gave her a quick pat on the head, and made his way to her father’s workroom.

Uncle Ardyn was so weird. That’s why she loved him.

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madamebaggio · 4 years ago

Photo

Notes: So...

Let’s talk for a second.

Remember I said I was procrastinating so hard that I was considering resurrecting old works?

Yeah… This is one of them… lol

It was going to be a Sansa/Willas/Oberyn, then it became a Sansa/Willas and now I’m not so sure.

I’ve stopped quite a while back on it with just two and a half chapters done, so I’ll just post it here and you guys tell me what you think.

Sounds fair?

***

Willas Tyrell quietly chuckled as his friend Oberyn Martell kept pretending he was an innocent human being. Oberyn’s “trust-me-I’m-a-saint” face never failed to amuse Willas.

The Tyrell was about to tell his friend to cut the shit -not with these words, because Willas would never be this crass -when they heard the library door opening.

“I should give up on having a sex life.”

“I should wash your mouth with soap for even suggesting it.”

Oberyn and Willas exchanged curious looks. The first voice was clearly Sansa Stark; her charming accent was unmistakable. The second was Margaery, obviously.

The two older men were hiding in the library, escaping the party. Olenna Tyrell gave the classiest parties in King’s Landing, but they were also crowded with hopeful socialites trying to grab a husband, and Oberyn and Willas were prime game. Therefore, this was a tactical retreat, before they inevitably had to go back to the party.

The young women hadn’t seen them because the men were behind a bookcase, sitting side by side on armchairs. As a matter of fact, they also couldn’t see the two ladies, but they could hear their conversation quite clearly.

“Well, it’s been… Disastrous, for a lack of a worse word.” Sansa continued.

“I’m pretty sure ‘catastrophic’ is worse than ‘disastrous’.” Margaery informed her, quite matter-of-factly.

Willas saw Oberyn opening a grin at that.

“Marge, I’m serious.”

“I refuse to believe that. It can’t have been that bad.”

“It was.”

Willas was wondering what he should do. This was obviously a very private conversation, and they had no right to be listening to it. Sansa was a reserved person and she’d probably feel embarrassed if she knew they could hear something so personal.

“I mean, sure, there was Joffrey…” Margaery was still talking.

“Do I need to say more?”

No, she didn’t. Willas hated the little piece of shit with a passion, and so did Oberyn. It was quite clear his friend was fighting to hold in his comment.

“Selfish little prick, treated me like crap all the time, including the two times we had sex. But at least the second time made me realize I needed to get rid of him fast.” Sansa’s tone was derisive in a way Willas had never heard before. Normally she was a really sweet girl who wouldn’t use a single bad word.

Though… If anyone deserved every single bad word ever invented it was Joffrey.

“Then there was Harry, who thought that his big…”

“Cock?” Margaery offered innocently.

Oberyn pressed his lips together, now really fighting to stay quiet.

Sansa sighed. “Yes. He thought that meant he’d already done his part and everything else was up to me.” They heard Margaery making a noise of disgust. “Besides that, he never took care of me before it…” Now she was sounding really embarrassed. “So it was always painful for me.”

“What a waste.” Margaery grumbled. “Harry doesn’t deserve to have a big cock.”

Sansa’s chuckle was completely humorless. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Did you have sex with Baelish?”

Willas and Oberyn shared identical looks of complete shock. Were they really talking about Petyr Baelish?

Sansa sighed again. “Thank the Seven no. I’m grateful I was never that stupid.”

“And you escaped Bolton.” It wasn’t a question.

Willas arched an eyebrow at Oberyn, asking if he knew of that one, but his friend just shrugged, also looking confused.

“Yes. He tried to grab me, but Robb punched him on the face.”

“Your brother is so hot.” Margaery fawned.

They giggled together and Willas couldn’t hold in a smile. He liked the fact that Sansa Stark was a true friend to his baby sister. It was just one of the many things he liked about her.

“So they all sucked.” Margaery concluded.

“Well…” Sansa dragged the word and Willas could almost see her biting her lower lip as she decided if she should say something or not. “There was Jon…”

“YOU FUCKED YOUR COUSIN?” Margaery said it so loud, that it wouldn’t be shocking if Olenna came in to hear the rest of the gossip.

“Almost.” Sansa let out a long-suffering groan. “We were drunk at a family party, he was feeling shitty, I was feeling shitty… We were talking, next thing we know we were snogging…”

“Then what?” Margaery demanded and Oberyn was almost falling forward on his seat, wanting to know as well.

“He…”

“What?”

“He… Gave me… He…”

Willas furrowed his brow, wondering at what she could possibly be trying to say.

“He ate you out?” Margaery offered.

“MARGE!” Sansa screeched.

“You can just say it.” Margaery teased.

“Yes, he did and it was amazing, but… When I was about to… Reciprocate… He called me ‘Ygritte’.”

“Ouch! Talk about killing the mood fast.”

“He was feeling bad, it was the red hair. At least he said it before we actually had sex, so, there’s that.” It was easy to realize that even Sansa knew this was a weak compensation.

“And you got great oral out of it.” Margaery tried to sound cheery about it.

“Yes, but it was also the first and only time ever.”

“Wait! Are you honestly telling me…”

No, this couldn’t possibly be true. Sansa might be younger than him, but Willas wasn’t blind; she was a goddess. How could it even be possible…?

“Do any of the previous mentioned boyfriends sounded giving to you?” Sansa asked dejectedly.

Margaery’s sound of disgust was answer enough.

“Anyway. This disastrous ending is why I’ve never told you about Jon.”

“Makes sense.” Margaery conceded.

“And that’s it.” And fuck, if this was the extent of Sansa’s sex life he was angry on her behalf.

What was wrong with the boys out there that a woman like Sansa would feel so damned unloved? Willas was quite aware she’d been a bit of a brat when she was younger, but then again, so had Margaery. Sansa was smart, charming and absolutely gorgeous; she deserved much better than that.

He didn’t even have to look at Oberyn to know he was thinking exactly the same thing.

“Don’t say that.” Margaery’s voice was gentler now. “You’ve just had rotten luck so far.”

Sansa snorted. “That’s one way of calling it.”

He heard his sister humming something. “What you need is an experienced guy to give you a few orgasms and restore your confidence.”

Oberyn was nodding along with that particular suggestion, but Willas was more interested on Sansa’s answer.

“Sure, do you keep one of those in your pocket?” She snorted, opting for sarcasm.

“There’s always Oberyn.” His sister offered.

The man in question arched an eyebrow, now clearly delighted by the turn of events even as Sansa screeched in protest.

“I’m serious.” Margaery insisted, with her musical laughter. “He has the fame of being a sex god. It can’t possibly be a lie.”

Willas wasn’t one bit amused by this whole conversation, but Oberyn was clearly having the time of his life.

“How would you know?” Sansa challenged.

It would be a terrible moment to find out his sister had slept with his best friend. There were some things he’d rather never know.

“I met Ellaria. She’s not the type of woman to pretend to have an orgasm just to spare a man’s ego.” Margaery indicated reasonably. “And she was not complaining about him at all. In fact, the things she told me…” Her voice trailed off suggestively.

“He’s older than me.” Sansa indicated, but it didn’t seem like a protest at all.

“But he’s not old.”

“I’m not considering this.” Sansa said, but it sounded like she was talking more to herself.

“You’d have to be dead not to think about it.” Margaery insisted. “Come on! If sex was a person, it’d be him.”

That got a giggle out of Sansa. “So what? Should I just walk up to him and say…” She trailed off so Margaery could complete.

And his sister didn’t disappoint. “Cure me from my orgasm deprivation.” She proclaimed dramatically.

Oberyn shrugged, seemed sold on the idea. Willas gave him a warning look.

“You’re the worst.” Sansa said, but she was laughing.

“You love me.” Margaery sang aloud.

“But… maybe you’re right.” Sansa mused. “Not about Oberyn, I think he’d see me too much as an inexperienced little girl.” Willas was the one to almost snort this time. Sansa might be younger than them, but Oberyn would not see her like a little girl in a thousand years. “But maybe I do need to find a man just to…”

“Fuck?”

“I give up on you.” She declared. “Let’s get more champagne.”

They heard the click of heels, then the door opened.

“How about Willas?” Margaery suggested, as their voices started to get farther.

Now Oberyn was giving him one hell of an annoying look.

“Marge!” Sansa barked a laughter. “Are you seriously pimping your brother out to me?”

“Are you saying my brother isn’t…” But the rest of Marge’s question was cut by the heavy door closing after them.

“Don’t.” Willas spoke immediately, because he knew Oberyn well enough to know where this was going.

“I wasn’t about to say anything.” Oberyn told him, the huge devilish smile on his lips immediately denying his words.

“Oh please.” Willas gave him a flat look. “You’re dying to make some inappropriate comment on this whole situation.”

“I resent that.” Oberyn somehow replied with a straight face. “How do you know it’d be inappropriate?” He challenged.

“Because I know you.” He replied dryly. “Besides that, what we heard was an extremely private conversation. If there was any way we could’ve revealed ourselves without embarrassing Sansa, I’d have done it.”

Oberyn sighed. “You’re right, of course. She’s quite sweet and I don’t think she’d be happy if she knew we heard that.”

“No, she wouldn’t.”

“Don’t you feel like beating them all up, though?” Oberyn immediately added. “How is it possible that they all had her and managed to be so bad about the whole thing, she’s considering quitting on sex all together?”

“She’s young.” Willas said, though it sounded weak even to his own ears. “She just needs to find a better lover next time.”

“Don’t make it sound like she’s a child, Willas.” Oberyn rolled his eyes. “She’s… What? 23?”

“24.” Willas corrected.

“And these bad experiences will just make it harder for her to choose next time. She needs to know how good sex can be, so she can feel more confident about it.” Oberyn insisted.

“Oh really? So what are you saying exactly? And choose your words carefully.” Willas warned.

He realized soon enough his mistake; he’d been too vehement on his defense of Sansa’s honor, and now Oberyn was looking at him like he was a particularly interesting bug.

“Oh Willas, that’s so adorable of you.” He cooed.

“Shut up, Oberyn.” The other man grumbled.

“You’re sweet on the lady.”

“Don’t be absurd.” Willas protested. “She’s way too young.”

“Hardly that young. You wouldn’t be taking advantage, if that’s your concern.”

“After what I just heard? I think I would.”

Oberyn let out a long-suffering sigh. “Why are you always so eager to play the martyr?” He wanted to know. “If you like the woman, ask her out.”

“No.” Willas said firmly. “Now let’s talk about something else.”

Oberyn’s look made it quite clear he knew what was going on in Willas’s head, but he humored his friend by changing the subject.

Thank the Seven.

#madame baggio #crackship #alternate universe #modern AU #game of thrones #gifs not mine #possible fanfic #Sansa Stark #margaery tyrell #willas tyrell #oberyn martell #maybe Sansa x Willas x Oberyn #maybe just Sansa x Willas #i haven't figured it out yet #my delirium

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soveryanon · 4 years ago

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Reviewing time for MAG185!

- Given Jon and Martin’s recent conversations about categorisations:

(MAG183) ARCHIVIST: This place is… an homage, shall we say. A monument. To him, and those like him, who tried to… categorise the world with themselves at the centre. In so doing, constructed the architecture of its suffering…! […] Avatar isn’t a thing, Martin, it’s not–! It’s just a word. A word used by… fools like Smirke to try and sort everything into neat little boxes, to reduce the messy spray of human fear into a checklist: Human, avatar, monster, victim. Only now, now, there’s a binary. There’s finally a clear dividing line and… [SIGH] Well. I’m sorry you’re not happy with which side you’ve ended up on.

(MAG184) MARTIN: … I thought you said Smirke’s Fourteen was a load of bull? ARCHIVIST: I said it was limited, and draws artificial borders, but it does have its use when it comes to conceptualising these things.

Yep, this episode really conveyed the concept! I had felt like the Monument was predominantly Spiral; but this one? No idea. Utter blob of terror, I didn’t have any moment of “Oooh! Could be mainly x?” at all. The statement at times made me think of The Buried, with the lack of space (“The cell was small and cramped, and Tina kept hitting her shin on the bench. […] And now, she is back in her cell. Or a cell that looks like hers. It is… smaller perhaps, the metal bench is cleaner, but… rusted through on the hinges, so when she lies on it, it squeals and threatens to collapse.”); I got a few Hunt-vibes when Tina recalled the moment before she was arrested (“All day she had been feeling on edge, smelling the faintest hint of something rotten on the wind. Had it been her imagination? No; others had sensed it too, she was sure of it. In the shops she had seen them, eyes darting nervously, fingers drumming incessantly on trolly handles, waiting for whatever was coming.”); there were a few Beholding moments with the feeling of being watched, being listened to, having her secrets exposed and used against her (“And all day, that intense, unshakeable feeling that she was being watched. […] And there had been a file, a thick manila envelope stained with grease and coffee, which held the pages of her life typed out in a small, no-nonsense font. She remembered that she had read those pages with increasing alarm. It had all been there, all of it. Her life, her loves, her choices, her mistakes. No details spared, no nasty inference ignored.”); the lights out reminded me of The Dark, through the Inspector’s own fears (“Please, I’m… It’s almost lights out. I can’t be here for lights out! Not again.”); the guardians had Stranger vibes (“The door opened, and there they stood, identical in their uniforms, their skin fishbelly white, and their eyes gleaming with malice.”); there was some Spiral-y feelings, punctually or through Tina being unable to make sense of her situation (“The man had laughed at that. It had been a dry and hacking sound that cracked the mirrored glass of the interview room, and made the juror’s ears bleed.”); and the cold, the separation from others, her inability to connect also made me think of The Lonely (“Had she ever been this cold before? Outside, of course, in the deepest winter, bundled up and pushing through to a heated home. But sat inside, with nowhere to go, nothing to change or wrap up in, just a thin grey jumpsuit, unable to do anything but sit there and shiver… [A BED CREAKS] that was a sort of cold that was alien to her. […] When she saw the world beyond her walls, her heart sank. The world seemed bright, and normal. […] The world didn’t miss her, didn’t know or care about what was happening beyond these walls.”) – for this last point, I could almost believe it was part of Martin’s domain… so it wasn’t a big surprise that we would jump straight to it right afterwards.

So, I was able to think of this and that Fear, but unable to classify the place as a whole. The fear of being subjected to what you want to believe others deserve (even though you’re aware on some level that they don’t)? As a whole, the statement was a denunciation of the complacency and willing ignorance amongst the privileged in the middle of an authoritative and repressive state – and it made quite an interesting POV because we rarely get a case of the statement-giver/victim coming across as inherently unsympathetic in the middle of their own distress. Last time I felt that way was with Tova McHugh (MAG155), and this time was for different reasons, mostly due to Tina’s inability to… change her mind and denounce was what truly atrocious:

(MAG185) ARCHIVIST: “It was obviously a mistake, some miscommunication somewhere, or a case of mistaken identity. These things were unfortunate, but sometimes they happened…! One of the people in charge would no doubt realise and sort it all out. […] Part of her wanted to lie there and weep, overcome with what was happening to her. But faster than that came the anger, the indignation – how dare they? She did not deserve this, she was better than this, this did not happen to people like her. [SCRAPING SOUNDS] She clawed her way back up to the window and looked out, trying to see the spiteful little brat. […] There has been a mistake. She should not be here, but she had met the person in charge, she had pleaded her case, told him of what had happened. … And he had laughed at her. […] Tina ignores it as she grabs the hatch and tries to keep it open, tries to tell the guard, to explain what’s happened, that something’s gone wrong, that she shouldn’t be here, this isn’t right! Why can’t anybody see this, this isn’t the place for people like her!”

Underneath, there was the implication that others would still “deserve” to be subjected to this, and the fact that her anger was misdirected as a result: Tina was upset that it was happening to her, not that… it was happening at all, to anyone, and that nobody should deserve this. There was still this unabashed confidence and trust in the regime and in order as a thing, while she was directly exposed to its atrocities, and her anger that the world didn’t conform to the scenario in her head where she should be protected by the very same thing oppressing others. This season, Jon’s kept pointing out Martin that things were complicated, that “No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most!” and this episode was pushing that to its (unpleasant) limits: first, with Tina, where it still felt like a fair retribution, in a way, with the irony of her complacency not protecting her against authoritarianism and its violence; and secondly, with the Inspector from MAG120 being imprisoned here, which also felt like a fair retribution (if he had so casually punched Elias when he was handcuffed back then, what are the chances that he had also exerted violence on more vulnerable (and innocent) people in the same situation? And he confessed to tampering with evidence, and Jon pointed out that he would probably enjoy a seat of power in this domain, implying he would make it worse for others). And yet, still: Jon had pointed out that nobody deserved what this new world inflicts on them.

(I got biiiiig Kafka vibes with this statement (“‘None of these things are illegal,” she had said. […] ‘The laws have changed.’ […] . They never told her any charges, never gave her any verdict.”), I wonder if it was a deliberate reference to The Trial, with the deconfiguration of justice and executive systems, which turn into something arbitrary, unreadable, impossible to understand?)

- There were so many mentions of Tina’s memories not being exactly linear, of memories being… supplied, to fill in the gaps?

(MAG185) ARCHIVIST: “And then she was here. Tina didn’t remember the journey, not… properly. […] It didn’t matter, it wasn’t her memory. She was just here. […] She turned away quickly, and saw the window above her. … Had there been a window when she had first come here? When had that been? […] The child’s eyes met hers, the first moment of human connection that she had really felt since she’d arrived – but… hadn’t she only just got here…? – and Tina felt herself begin to smile. […] And then she was back in her cell. [FOOTSTEPS] She didn’t remember the interview, not properly. Or had it been a trial?”

And I wonder if it was to increment her anguish (not really understanding what was happening, shutting down hopes as soon as she was formulating them in her head), or maybe a symptom of getting closer to the Panopticon…? We might have gotten the first reference of someone remembering the beginning of the apocalypse (“‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with us,’ they had said, as the sky above them began to change.”) – though I’m not excluding that it was just a fabricated memory, too, making her skip from one place to another. Still, the fact that she was able to question a few of her memories makes me wonder if it might be due to Jon and Martin getting closer to London and the Panopticon, making people a bit more lucid about what happened and aware of the dream-logic not following physical laws…?

- Jon still doing his statements alone in his corner, and if not for the end of this episode, I would have been worried again over Martin disappearing during a statement… though we still have fifteen episodes left so that’s still a possibility ;;

(MAG185) [METAL DOOR CREAKS OPEN] MARTIN: [BRIEF EFFORT SOUND] All done? ARCHIVIST: … Yes. [FOOTSTEPS] MARTIN: I still think doing it in one of the actual cells was a bit much…! ARCHIVIST: It was the most soundproof place I could find. MARTIN: Pffft! Soundproof? Yeah, dream on. ARCHIVIST: You… heard? I… I–I’m sorry, I know it was, uh… MARTIN: I, I actually didn’t, but only because I was too busy hearing what was going on in all the other cells. ARCHIVIST: Ah. Well.

I’m a bit surprised that Martin is still refusing to listen to Jon’s statements: is it still because it’s plain upsetting? Is it because it makes him feel like a voyeur, like he has no right to know about them? Is it because he’s still refusing to listen to the Fears’ doing, refusing to face the way people are hurting, in a way? Will it change with his domain…?

I felt that Martin and Jon were a bit more awkward, at the start of their exchange? A bit more cautious than usual, as if they were dancing around issues and making sure that the other wouldn’t get the wrong idea. Was it due to Jordan’s transformation last time? Was it because of the whole domain (tense, oppressive)? It already felt like they were on the verge of something, that a change was coming…

- So, it sounds like they had met the person/monster of charge of the domain, the “Warden”, beforehand?

(MAG185) MARTIN: What if another one comes along? ARCHIVIST: It’s fine, we’re, uh… We’re “guests of the Warden”. MARTIN: Urgh… ARCHIVIST: Mm-hm. … Come on. [BAG JOSTLING] [FOOTSTEPS, AND THE METAL DOOR CREAKS SHUT] [SILENCE BUT FOR FOOTSTEPS] MARTIN: … Does it not bother you? ARCHIVIST: What? Being a “guest”? MARTIN: Yeah! I–it’s, it’s not like it resisted. Hell, it was chummy! ARCHIVIST: Would you rather it had attacked?

Same thing as with Dr. Doe, then, who was overall extremely friendly to them. Martin is finally understanding the extent of their status: that they’re mostly untouched, that they’re favoured by The Eye, that they do get a special status in these domains… and not solely due to Jon.

Gosh, Jon sounded so tired, in this episode too? Like he was recapping most of his story, close to an epilogue, trying to guess the process of what had happened in his own mind retroactively.

(MAG185) MARTIN: No, it’s just… Is that how these creatures see us now? As one of them? ARCHIVIST: Mm! [AMUSED] I forgot that’s a new experience for you. MARTIN: Excuse me? ARCHIVIST: You have to remember, I’ve had this for years. Right from the start, it’s always been “Archivist” this and “Archivist” that, all these… weird, awful creatures assuming I’m… “in” on all the secrets. Even when they were trying to kill me, they treated me like I was a… a peer. MARTIN: Yeah, but they were still trying to kill you! ARCHIVIST: Not all of them. And now? Sure, the power’s shifted, it’s all… politeness and respect, but it still feels just like… more of the same…! I guess I just stopped caring at some point. Besides, they are technically right, I am one of them. To a degree. MARTIN: I suppose.

And it’s true! Jane Prentiss had called him “Archivist” (in her texts from Martin’s phone, and directly in MAG039); Michael had done the same (through Sasha, and then in person starting MAG047). For the different monsters and avatars, Jon wasn’t really “Jon” but “the Archivist” as a function (even the Not!Them referred to him as such at the end; Nikola did too, Jude identified him as “an Archivist”). Jon had even wondered about his status in season 3 (MAG085: “Maybe whoever sent this wants me to consider how many of these creatures used to be people. How many seem to have taken the mantle from the ones that came before them, and how none of them have been able to overcome their new natures. How most of them don’t even seem to think like people anymore. Given that there is every possibility I’ve taken one of these mantles myself, this is not an interpretation I’m keen on.”). And at the same time: Jon is still making a separation here, between himself and these “weird, awful creatures”? Is it due to the Archivist’s status being still a bit of an oddity in the Fear landscape? Even Jonah had mentioned that the function was extremely old (MAG160: “You see, the role of Archivist has been part of The Beholding for as far back as my research can go. This isn’t uncommon for the Powers: most of the beliefs around them are guesswork and fallible human interpretation, but there are certain… throughlines and consistencies that can be spotted, regardless of the trappings.”), and in Jon’s case, he didn’t have a lot of manoeuvre in the powers he got – he began trapping people in his dreams and compelling before even noticing and understanding that those were things he could do, and we know that those were happening with Gertrude too. Jon’s powers didn’t shape themselves through his own relationship with the Fears; he got them with the position, and they seem to have been consistent amongst the Archivists at the Institute.

OBVIOUSLY, Jon broke my heart a bit when he mentioned he might have “stopped caring at some point” ;; By season 4, he was introducing himself as “the Archivist”, as if he had given up trying to fight it, and there was his long interrogation about whether or not he was still himself, still human… But: if Jon is accepting that he has changed, the real question is whether he still has choices with his new status? He might accept that he has changed; it doesn’t mean that he has to accept everything that comes with the new urges and the new status, and we’ve already seen that he was able to take decisions, to reject some aspects – just because the fear of this world feels “good” to him on some level doesn’t mean that he can’t challenge that perception, and him and Martin precisely went off on a quest to try to undo this world.

- Given how Jon redirected the question towards Martin’s own feelings:

(MAG185) ARCHIVIST: I think the real question is… how are you finding it? MARTIN: [SIGH] I–it’s not the same. I’m still just your… “plus one”. ARCHIVIST: [AMUSEDLY] Don’t put yourself down. It’s not your fault you’re a bit overshadowed; I am such a very big deal after all…! MARTIN: Oh, very big arse, more like it! ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLES] Either way, even if I wasn’t here, I don’t think you’d be in any danger. Not anymore. I wasn’t sure when we first started out, I hadn’t properly, uh… looked into it, as it were. But now I’m certain. MARTIN: … I’m one of them. ARCHIVIST: One of… “us”. MARTIN: [SIGHING] That’s not as comforting as you think it is. ARCHIVIST: Doesn’t mean it’s not true though. [PRISON AND PRISONER SOUNDS ARE CLEARER HERE] MARTIN: [INHALE] And this is all because I’ve been given a domain? Because, apparently, I somehow have people’s fear feeding me? ARCHIVIST: Well… feeding The Eye through you, but yes.

* Was it a case of Jon already knowing that Martin’s own perception and feelings could influence their journey, that Martin had to understand and process a few things before being able to enter his domain (just like Basira)? That Martin’s journey was mostly emotional and logical, rather than physical, and that Martin understanding and accepting his own status as an “avatar”, as a “us”, would matter?

* ;w; over Martin mentioning that he still feels like Jon’s “plus one”… Jude had made a few digs about it, and Martin, left on his own, had also remembered that he was “following” Jon, not the reverse way round (MAG170: “I was following, al–always following, never leading; never leading.”). He had been casually threatened by a few avatars/monsters, while they were showing deference to Jon; of course that Martin would feel like he’s mostly unaccounted with compared to Jon, who can turn Watched into Watchers, and kill the latter… while it turns out that Martin is also a Watcher of his own, and thus technically has the same importance as all the monsters/avatars we’ve seen in season 5, and maybe more, since he’s from The Eye.

* LAUGHING HARD at Jon’s shitty sense of humour. It sounded more clipped and posh-smug than his usual? Was it the tiredness, was it the gravity of the surroundings, was it Jon feeling comfortable enough to put on a role? Smug posh cat.

* Can’t believe that the Jon’s Ass discourse was resolved this episode smh (Jon “big arse” canon, Jon is “scrawny” and has a big butt the episode said.) (I’m joking.) (But MARTIN PLEASE! <3)

* That indeed confirms what had happened since the Change at the end of MAG160: the reason Martin didn’t become a victim was not (or at least not just) because he was protected by Jon… but because he was a Watcher of his own. It’s interesting that Jon confirmed it just a few minutes before they would get separated – at least, we knew that Martin would be “safe” even when they weren’t together. … But at the same time, it’s interesting that no, they’re not 100% safe from the domains either: Martin got entrapped into the Lonely house (MAG170) and could have stayed there, while Jon got trapped in a cycle of statements in the Web theatre (MAG172), and might not have been able to snap out of it if Martin hadn’t come back to interrupt him. Are they really truly safe, when the domains can influence them in these ways?

* … This is also a reminder that Jon can’t know something he hasn’t thought about looking for, that he’s not all-knowing naturally. If Jon wasn’t sure about Martin’s status at the start as long as he hadn’t searched for it, what else does he not know? His main weakness is still that he has to look for things in order to know them, which requires… asking himself the right questions.

* Martin is right that it’s not “comforting”; it’s an unpleasant truth. And yet, it’s still true, still something he has to face and deal with: that he’s protected because he’s benefitting from this world and feeding on his own victims’ fears.

(* It’s still all linked to The Eye getting fed through them: is it getting a special flavour through its agents? Variety? I’m still pretty sure that Melanie wasn’t given a domain, since she cut her connection to The Eye: it wouldn’t be able to feed through her at this point.)

- I love how Jon has reached this point, with what he’s seen and witnessed, where he’s adamant that “no one gets what they deserve”?

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most! … Even me.

(MAG185) MARTIN: Even though I didn’t ask for it? Did nothing to deserve it? ARCHIVIST: “Deserve”, huh! Now there’s a word that always causes trouble. MARTIN: [HUFF] Don’t be patronising. ARCHIVIST: I just mean that nobody here deserves the position they’ve found themselves in, not really. I suppose a few may have asked for it, sought it out even, but far more didn’t. They just made the wrong choices for the… right reasons, or even the right choices. But ones that still led them here in the end. MARTIN: … I hate it. ARCHIVIST: On balance, that’s… probably a good thing.

It was even more powerful in this episode given the underlying tone of ironic retribution going on with Tina and the Inspector (subjected to what they felt others deserve)? I also remembered Tim’s words about the Fears and the fact that there was no particular reason for people to get hurt by them (MAG117: “I used to blame my brother for going off on one and poking around where he wasn’t wanted; I used to blame myself for… not helping him, but now? Now it doesn’t matter. I’ve read through enough of these things to know that this doesn’t matter. The only thing you need to have your life destroyed by this stuff is just bad luck. Talk to the wrong person, take the wrong train, [SCOFF] open the wrong door – and that’s it!”) – the idea that this whole Fear-machine was there to make people suffer anyway, that there wasn’t really any point to fight it individually, that being a victim of it doesn’t mean it’s (at all!) earned or warranted. … I hope that, at this point, Jon is also aware that all of this also applies to him? Jonah had gloated that it was due to Jon’s own “rotten luck”, that he had only been a “chosen one” in the sense that Jonah had decided to pick him for his ritual.

- Love’s Martin spiteful “I hate it” ;w; Just because it’s true doesn’t mean that he has to like or defend it; there are different forms of acceptance and rejections to be had around these concepts, even though it doesn’t change anything concrete, and I still like that he’s voicing it so simply and earnestly ;w; (And I feel like Jon understood that, too? In the same way that feeding on people in season 4 had felt “good” or that he’s been prospering since the Change, while still aware that it’s a bad, awful thing at the core that he wants to change.)

- I was so surprised by the return of the Inspector!

(MAG185) [SUDDEN RATTLING AGAINST METAL BARS] INSPECTOR: Hey! Hey, you! Yeah, I know you! MARTIN: U–uh…? INSPECTOR: It’s, f–fr–fr–from the, uh, Magnus Institute! Hum… aaah… Mark! ARCHIVIST: You know him? MARTIN: Martin.

* … Did he get a promotion since MAG120? He was a “police officer” back then – did he get a promotion for Elias’s arrest?

* After the Basira-Daisy mini-arc, this was our reminder that… the issues with Section 31 weren’t inherently tied to them, that it was existing outside of them, that it was awful on its own even without them (as the system protecting Daisy and accepting (and enabling) her violence, and also as the system who was ready to serve its own interest: Elias managed to coerce Basira to sign up with the Institute by pointing out that there were plenty of other Sectioned officers that would gladly execute them all to ensure that their exactions and Daisy’s would remain hidden).

* Mark Kerosene Blackwood. (I’m living, there have been so many references to Martin’s name this season! The face that he doesn’t have a middle name, Martin barely remembering his own name in the Lonely house, Annabelle pointing out that he hadn’t given her his name on the phone…)

* About names:

(MAG185) INSPECTOR: Martin, right, yeah! Y–you remember? You tipped us off, and we came and nicked your boss, the, that Bouchard bloke! MARTIN: Oh! Oh right, the, hum… oh, In–inspector… uh, I, I’m so sorry, I’ve forgotten your name. INSPECTOR: So have I! It, I’m just… 547 in here. MARTIN: God, I’m so sorry.

Laughing so hard at this because. The dude had never given his name at all in MAG120, had only been credited as “police officer”.

- … It was indeed a part of Martin’s past:

(MAG185) ARCHIVIST: Martin? What do you think? MARTIN: What? ARCHIVIST: I decided about Jordan. This place is from your past. MARTIN: Yeah, but I mean only briefly! ARCHIVIST: Still.

It was a time Martin was still confident in that system (MAG082: “But you’re the police!” / MAG092: “Okay, wai–wai–wai–wait, that’s the police that you’re talking about! Okay, they… they wouldn’t… Would they?”), where Martin was ready to use it against Elias to get him arrested; it was Martin’s plan in season 3 – when in the end, the prison would strike a deal with Elias, technically serving his interests (preventing Jon from accessing him) and allowing him to escape when he would need, as shown in MAG158. And Martin had been the one to carry through Elias’s arrest, leading the officer in to Elias’s office by himself (Jon was in a coma, Basira was in shock, Martin had been reluctant to call in Melanie). That officer was only related to Martin.

- … Congrats to Martin for asking the right questions:

(MAG185) MARTIN: Why are you here? INSPECTOR: What? MARTIN: What are you so afraid of that you ended up in here? INSPECTOR: I didn’t do anything! MARTIN: Jon? [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: Why are you here? INSPECTOR: [RESISTING] I don’t… Argh! Stop! Stop! ARCHIVIST: I will stop when you answer the question. INSPECTOR: Argh! Look, you can’t know if they’re all guilty, all right? [STATIC DECREASES] MARTIN: [SIGH] INSPECTOR: It, it’s just about evidence! MARTIN: [FLATLY] Right. [STATIC FADES] INSPECTOR: Sometimes, you just have to, to… MARTIN: What, guess? INSPECTOR: I’m sorry, all right? MARTIN: No. You’re just afraid…! INSPECTOR: Please, I’m… It’s almost lights out. I can’t be here for lights out! Not again. Please, you owe me! ARCHIVIST: This place is born of their nightmares. And of yours. MARTIN: If you made him a Watcher… he’d become part of this place? ARCHIVIST: … He would. MARTIN: And if he was, would he enjoy it? INSPECTOR: What are you talking about? No! Of course not! ARCHIVIST: You know I can’t see the future. MARTIN: But? ARCHIVIST: But I can see his past. MARTIN: And based on that? ARCHIVIST: … He probably would, yes.

* “It’s just about evidence”: just as a twisted “justice” tends to be about forging a convincing reality through a few cherry-picked elements, rather than uncovering a truth (well. Or establish what is “true” legally, which is not the same thing as an objective truth).

* Which means that on some level, the Inspector knew that what he was doing was arbitrary and could be turned against him, and was still doing it anyway, and still aware that it was the reason this place would be his own nightmare. Yikes.

* I’m also guilty of having cheered when Elias got punched in MAG120, but: it was also true, back then, that if that police officer was violent with Elias (who was dangerous and handcuffed)… then, he probably was used to getting violent with way more vulnerable people. So, no, not really a Hero, even though we really wanted Elias to get punched. (Same thing with Basira in MAG148: it felt good on a narrative standpoint… and also felt absolutely horrifying that she would be allowed to get violent towards him in a visitor parlour, without anyone intervening to put a stop to it.)

* Jon’s compulsion was SO HARSH and pressuring, wow Jon.

* Anooother reminder that Jon “can’t see the future”.

* I really like Martin’s sentence about “You’re not [sorry], you’re just afraid”? It encompasses so well a few things we’ve witnessed in Magnus, that there is something deeply and tragically human in the fact that we want to be out of harm’s way, but that there is a problem at the root if our decisions are mostly forced by circumstances that don’t really feel like a choice? What the Inspector did was awful; he sounded absolutely nasty and despicable in the way he tried to plead his own case without regretting his actions; and at the same time, refusing him didn’t feel exactly “good” either — to leave behind someone who was pleading for help and clearly desperate, who was mostly motivated by fear and trying to grasp any lifeline to get out of there? What was messed up is that we didn’t have a situation in which he could change and evolve, that he wasn’t able to realise that he had committed awful things and wanted to “be better” like Daisy when she was in the Coffin…

* … I subscribe to Martin’s choice in this case, though: that it would have felt bad to allow him to enjoy a new status, despite what he had done, with the clear risk of him making things worse for the other prisoners (since he has already displayed and confirmed that he had previously abused his power over more vulnerable people). It was such a huge contrast to Jordan, who didn’t want to become a “torturer”, yet agreed that he didn’t want to become a victim again?

Who gets to be “saved” in this new world, then? People Jon and Martin personally know? Is it better to turn someone into a Watcher when it would make them suffer morally (Jordan), or is it better to turn someone into a Watcher when it would allow them to enjoy it (the Inspector)? It felt good on some petty level of irony to ultimately ignore the Inspector, but it also felt bad to ignore someone who was desperately pleading and reduced to frantic begging…

- Haaan, Jon’s apologies echoed what had happened with Jude’s building in MAG169!

(MAG185) MARTIN: [LONG EXHALE] That was horrible. ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry I put you in that position. MARTIN: N–no. You were right to, that’s… that’s a lot of power to have to deal with. Lot of responsibility. ARCHIVIST: Yes… [INHALE] Thank you, Uncle Ben. MARTIN: [CHUCKLE] Pop culture? Really? ARCHIVIST: I’m allowed to know what Spiderman is.

* And it feels like they both have evolved a bit on the matter of leaving the choice to the other: Jon acknowledging that it’s an unpleasant thing to do, and Martin acknowledging that Jon, so far… had to bear with it and was mostly the one choosing for them both, and that they’re both unequipped for it.

* Oh, Jon… I can’t even scream “Jon, you NERD” (but still a bit) – but aww at Jon’s way to try and defuse the tension…

* … This is how Web!Martin can still w-

- Aaaah, I love that we’ve reached this point of pointing out how inaction is still a choice:

(MAG185) MARTIN: [SIGH] … Not helping people is still a decision, isn’t it? ARCHIVIST: Well… You saw Jordan, I’m not sure “helping” is really… MARTIN: I know, I know, not the right word. Ignoring them, then. ARCHIVIST: Yes. It’s a choice I’ve been making a lot recently. MARTIN: … I guess we should get used to it. Knowing that all these awful things are happening for our benefit…! ARCHIVIST: Maybe it’s better if it never gets comfortable. MARTIN: Maybe.

* It was Jon’s struggle with Jordan already; the fact that having to “ignore” him… felt like too much, this time, since it was someone Jon knew and whom he felt indebted to. (And yet, as Jon had pointed out previously, there is no “better” in this new world: it was saving Jordan from one hell, to subject him to another… with Jordan still acknowledging that this new state of being felt more enviable than the previous one.)

* I wonder if in his “ignoring them”, Martin also included his own refusal to hear about the domains and the horrors of this world? Technically, shutting himself off from the victims hasn’t been any better this season – although, at first, it felt like Martin being finally able to establish his boundaries.

* If they’re now agreeing on the idea that “ignoring” the victims (not trying to do anything to change things for them) is still a “choice”, will that status quo change anytime soon…? Martin, in his own domain? Is the Panopticon coming very very soon, right after Martin’s?

* I like the constant about refusing that this awfulness, as real as it, is a positive thing. It’s what has made Jon so different from other avatars, the fact that he was refusing to embrace everything The Eye wanted him to like?

- Martin felt his domain first!

(MAG185) [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION, SLOWLY INCREASING] [THEY WALK IN SILENCE FOR A WHILE] MARTIN: Hey, do you… do you feel that? [FOOTSTEPS STOP] ARCHIVIST: Martin? Martin, listen you need to get ready. [FADING] We’re about to enter– [HARSH CRACKLE OF STATIC] MARTIN: Yeah, “my domain”, yes, right, I get it. Dream logic, and timing, heh, apparently! [STATIC FADES] [FAINT EERIE WIND SOUNDS] … Jon? Jon? [BAG JOSTLING] Oh… Shit.

* The Lonely static squeals! It had been a while!

* Did Martin manage to access his domain right now because he accepted that he had himself changed, that he was one of “them” in this new world, that the world is awful but still real, that he’s still making choices in his journey despite his trying to pretend he was staying neutral? It feels like Martin had to confront himself a bit for these last two episodes, guided by Jon in the same way that Jon had previously guided Basira…

* Aaah, after the stressful sounds of the prison (distant voices, their echoes screeching a bit; the harsh creaking of the door, the overall oppressive atmosphere)… Martin’s domain already felt more soothing. Was it the sound of wind, or the sound of a gentle rain falling? (But I like how, sounds-wise, I already got the feeling that this place could be depressing, and also a small comfort, lulling people to sleep? Which is Martin’s experience with The Lonely as a whole: a temptation towards apathy, to stop hurting.)

* Gasp, two swears this episode!

(MAG185) INSPECTOR: Hey, hey, fuck you, you scrawny little tit! What the hell do you know? […] MARTIN: … Jon? Jon? [BAG JOSTLING] Oh… Shit.

Martin, still the Big Sayer Of “shit” in season 5 (there was his string of it in MAG179 when Jon got injured, and the SERIES of them in MAG163 when escaping the bullets).

I’m getting nostalgic because ;_; MAG039 had ended on Jon saying that word, when he had realised that the trapdoor had actually led them right back to Prentiss… and now Martin is closing an episode with that, when something expected but still surprising and unpleasant is happening…

- Tape recorder thing: the episode began with Jon’s recording, where he was isolated; it went on with Jon&Martin walking in the corridors together… and then it still recorded Martin, once he entered his domain and got separated from Jon. It was the same tape recorder; it was Jon’s. But it “stuck with” Martin when they got separated.

Small recap of the various mentions of tape recorders since they had reached the safehouse, without knowing for sure if some were the same:

(MAG160) MARTIN: Everything all right? ARCHIVIST: Just… making sure it works…! [SHUFFLING SOUNDS] MARTIN: I still don’t think we should have brought it. ARCHIVIST: Oh, it’s better than no warning at all.

(MAG161) MARTIN: Hey – when, when did you start recording? [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] ARCHIVIST: I… didn’t. MARTIN: [TENSE EXHALE] ARCHIVIST: I only brought one, and I’ve been using it to play the tapes. MARTIN: Oh. [INHALE] That’s not a great sign. ARCHIVIST: No… No it’s not.

(MAG163) MARTIN: … Oh. Oh, hey! [SHUFFLING] [CLOSER] Jon, did you– … No. No, he was carrying his. [INHALE] All right…! [STEPS THROUGH LIQUID] What’re you doing here? [PLASTIC RATTLING] It’s dangerous. Could… get yourself blown up, like all these poor… […] You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.

(MAG166) MARTIN: [SIGH] [SILENCE] [BAG JOSTLING] … Kind of wish the apocalypse had some magazines. … A–ac–actually, no, second thoughts, probably not. Mmh! Def, definitely not.

(MAG170) MARTIN: [VOICE ECHOING SLIGHTLY] … Oh! Hello. [CHUCKLE] What are you? Do I… do I know you? Eh…! I can’t… [SHUFFLING] [CREAKING] I can’t tell through the fog, sometimes. You feel… n–not “friendly”. “Familiar”? [CREAKING] The shape of you in my hand… I talk to you, don’t I? We talk. What do we… what do we say? … I can’t quite…

(MAG181) SALESA: Hmmm. [SHUFFLING] Interesting… […] Now tell me, do you know why there’s a tape recorder here? I noticed it just now, but I don’t believe I actually own one. ARCHIVIST: … Uh… Not really. MARTIN: They sort of just … follow us round? SALESA: Hmmmm. Interesting. Did you carry it in? Things shouldn’t be able to manifest in here like that. ARCHIVIST: … You had one in your… bag, I–I think, Martin, did, did you drop it here? MARTIN: Uh… I, I don’t think so…!

=> Jon had initially brought one in Scotland. Another one appeared at the beginning of season 5, recording him listening to the tapes playing on his first tape recorder (so we’re sure that it indeed required two different recorders: the one playing the tapes, the one recording Jon listening to them). Martin spotted a wandering tape recorder at the end of MAG163, and was recorded when he was waiting for Jon at the end of MAG166 – it’s unclear whether it was the same one, or if Martin had picked up the one from MAG163 and kept it. In MAG170, Martin was recorded all alone (and, same thing, we don’t know whether it was one of the previous recorders, if Martin had kept it, etc., or a new one). By MAG181, Jon was aware that Martin had a tape recorder in his bag; but it’s unclear whether it was the same one as the one which popped up to listen to Salesa (what is strange is that Jon was implying that it couldn’t be his).

Tape recorders have been spawning for sure, so it’s not a complete restriction, but it’s interesting that by the end of MAG185… both tape recorders were presumably on Martin’s side. His own (in his bag), and Jon’s, who followed him into the domain (… but without Jon himself). Jon is currently recorder-less, although of course another one could pop up to record him (because it’s what they do!)… but I really wonder if we’ll be able to hear Jon at all as long as they’re not reunited, as long as Martin doesn’t find him back…?

- And so, we’re SPLITTING THE PARTY! Excellent, I’m sure nothing bad could ever happen from this.

Interestingly, it was the first time we directly heard someone transition from one domain to another: previously, it had felt like there was just that wasteland between them, while we went from the prison to another location immediately this time around, the only transition being the static and the squeals of distortion. To me, it felt like Martin’s domain is functioning on dream-logic even more than the others, that it has no… truly concrete location? That it was just accessible and there at this moment because Martin went through a few realisations and agreed to change his framework? We might hear about that next episode. I wonder if it’s more or less the same case for Helen’s domain, since Jon had mentioned that she would be on their way…?

- I’m not sure exactly what happened at the end of the episode! Given Jon’s warning, and how the soundscape changed, Martin definitely has entered his domain, but outside of that…

* What about Jon, since they got separated? Did Jon enter it another way? Is he a victim or vulnerable to Martin’s domain? Was he kept outside of it?

* How long will they be separated – will they find each other by the end of MAG186, will they go their separate ways for a few episodes?

* How will they manage to find each other again? There’s been a small progression in Martin getting stuck in Lonely space: Jon saved him and got him out of it (MAG159), then Martin became strong and firm enough about his identity for Jon to be able to find him (MAG170). This time around, will Martin have to find Jon, or find his way back to Jon by himself, without Jon being able to do anything?

* Alternatively, will there be any complication, anything Martin needs to do to be allowed to leave his domain? Will the domain tempt him to stay (because it’s made for him, and because he’s fed inside of it)? Jon had to learn to separate his urges, what felt good, from the morals and behaviour he actively chose to prioritise (it felt good to feed on other people’s trauma and to retraumatise them… but it was still atrocious, and something he decided wasn’t acceptable); comparatively, Martin might not be well-equipped if he’s hit with those feelings right away, without the years of slow avatarisation/path of dealing with the Fears…

* Still related: will Martin be able to leave on his own? On the one hand, we know that Helen can find him anywhere, and Martin was told he would be safe to travel through her corridors (MAG164: “The Distortion can always find anyone who has… crossed its threshold.” “And that includes you, Martin! […] I would happily take him. But I don’t think he’d want to leave you.”); on the other hand, Annabelle had explicitly told Martin that they would meet again very soon (MAG181: “Don’t worry, Martin. We’ll meet again. Hopefully when you’re feeling a little bit more… open-minded…!”), and now that Martin has learned about his own complicity, about the fact that he counts amongst the Watchers, that the concept of “deserving” isn’t really relevant when the Fears were involved… isn’t he precisely more “open-minded”, in better disposition to hear whatever she might have to say…?

* Jon had warned Martin that he wouldn’t be able to see his victims:

(MAG183) MARTIN: Are there people, Jon? ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: Are there people in my domain? ARCHIVIST: Not many. […] It’s a small domain. A swirling mix of The Eye and The Lonely. Inhabited by a few lost souls whose fear is not of their isolation or their agonies, but that no-one… will ever know of them. That they shall suffer in silence, and be mourned by nobody. That’s why you can’t really see it. It’s why even if we do travel through it, you won’t be able to see… any of the people trapped there.

Is that still the case? Has Martin’s perspective changed enough for him to be able to see them, now, or will he spend most of the episode unable to see or to know them, all by himself for a while…? Will Martin be able to challenge The Eye in order to give a statement about the victims, like Jon has been doing this season? Will Jon give the victims’ statements?

* … Is anyone we know in Martin’s domain? His father? Naomi Herne (MAG013: “There was no presence to [the fog], though, it wasn’t as though another person was there, it was… It made me feel utterly forsaken.”)? Jess Tyrell (given how Martin received her story, but couldn’t help her, and focused on what it meant about Jon rather than how his victims would fare)? In season 4, Martin looked like the primary victim of his own fall into The Lonely; he was able to disappear in front of Georgie (MAG149), but after months of forcing himself to stay isolated. Since he’s been discovering that he wasn’t as neutral as he would have liked, that he was himself benefitting from this apocalypse as a rewarded servant of Beholding, I would find it interesting if at least someone in his domain were to be someone he had directly or indirectly wronged in the past…

* Jon reminded the Inspector that the place was born from his and the inmates’ fears. What about Martin’s domain: was it shaped through others? Is it a reflection of Martin’s own trauma, as someone who was trying to stay hidden, both due to his sick mother and due to his many professional lies?

* I’m really wondering if the victims will sense Martin in the domain, in a way. To them, will he look like a monster, a creature they have to hide from…?

MAG186’s title is [EXTENDED SOBBING SOUNDS]. It reminds me of things Martin had said in MAG156 and MAG159, so obligatory SOB. It’s… a very Martin title and we’re indeed in his domain, uh…

(But is it actually about the people in his domain? About what is appealing to Martin? About Martin’s own wishes?)

#long post/#will tag later

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starlightinhumanform · 5 years ago

Text

The Art of Love: Chapter 2

Fandom: She Ra (2018)

Ship: Glimadora

Summary: Glimmer struggles to work on her and Adora’s project amidst the chaos of her anxiety and Weaver’s pressure. Meanwhile, she begins to see a different side of Adora.

Warnings (for this chapter): Negative self talk, Description of anxiety (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: High School AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rivals/Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff

A/N: Your comments and notes make so happy thank you guys so so much and thank you for reading! Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 The Art of Love Masterpost Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

Going into Chemistry the next day was a struggle for Glimmer; it always was but today there was added hesitation in her step. The thought of having to sit so close to Adora, to talk to her was making Glimmer’s skin crawl. She began regretting eating that sandwich for lunch only minutes before as it now seemed to be making its way back up her throat.

She swung the door to the classroom open with a punchy jerk backwards and shuffled in, careful to not look anywhere but her feet. Despite this, she could feel Weaver’s eyes on her as she sat down just as the bell rang.

“Not late today, I see, Glimmer,” Weaver’s voice rang out across the room and Glimmer’s face burned red.

She glanced around the room at all the faces turned in her direction before slumping forward on her crossed arms again. Adora’s scowl was among the turned heads and it made Glimmer’s nausea increase tenfold. How dare she act as if she were friendly and sweet yesterday, then turn back today to judging and staring at her. Adora was just trying to twist Glimmer around her pinky finger she like she had the rest of the school. But she wouldn’t fall for it like all those airheads did.

Glimmer rolled her eyes and was surprised at the feeling of disappointment sinking to her gut. Did she really think Adora was being genuine? Of course she didn’t; so why was she blinking wet eyelashes in response to Adora doing exactly what she was always going to do. It was probably better she do it now than once Glimmer had been tricked into trusting her charming smile as something real.

Weaver stalked in front of her desk, bringing herself even closer to Glimmer than usual and far closer than Glimmer enjoyed. She clipped forward wearing the same red pumps that aggravated Glimmer to no end and placed her hands behind her as if to brace herself on the table.

She scanned the room and set her face in her customary scowl and allowed her eyes to stall on the empty seats and began speaking to the class as if they were the ones absent, “I don’t know why you can’t just come to class. It’s not that hard and we have work to do.”

Weaver glowered at the lowered heads in front of her and Glimmer made sure to bend her neck as far as she possibly could without looking like she was being possessed so only the crown of her dyed-pink hair could be seen from the teacher’s view point.

“Speaking of which, I hope you can get more done today than you did yesterday,” she sighed through her nose, “Well, get to work.”

Glimmer’s stomach flipped as seats squeaked and shuffled on the linoleum floor and students began grouping into their pairs. She didn’t want to listen to Adora’s soft laugh again, knowing it was fake; forced to pretend she didn’t hate every shake of that ponytail; keeping her eye rolls in check just long enough to pass this stupid class.

Glimmer didn’t try to hide the stress building up in her head like a pressure front before a storm. She cradled her face in her hands as if her palms pressed to her eyes could keep the hot tears filling them from spilling out. She shook her head, trying to dislodge all the thoughts swirling through her mind. They’re all staring at you, you know that right? Adora is going to think you’re a baby and she’ll be right. You’re just proving everything Weaver says about you; it’s no wonder all these people think you’re stupid.

Glimmer froze at the sound of clipping heels near her seat and prepared herself for whatever insults Weaver was about to throw at her.

“This doesn’t look very productive, now does it?” Weaver’s voice was smooth but managed to bite in a way that made the back of Glimmer’s throat burn.

She moved her hands from her face and clenched them into fist beneath her desk. Glimmer’s hair created a curtain between her and Weaver that she refused to part; it protected her from the cold gaze of her teacher and allowed her to burn holes into her desk that she wished she could direct at Weaver, the intensity of the sun in her eyes.

Glimmer opened her mouth to stutter out something, anything in response when another pair of shoes jogged over, “Actually, Ms Weaver, we were about to get to work!”

There was a smile on Adora’s voice that made Glimmer’s insides complete another somersault.

It wasn’t until Weaver let out one last unhappy grumble and the sound of her heels clipped into the other direction that Glimmer allowed her face to turn upwards. Her eyes locked with Adora’s momentarily, burning with the same strength that had been directed at her desk.

“Hey,” Adora’s voice was filled with could have concern in anybody else’s, “You’re looking kind of overwhelmed; do you want to take a break outside for a few minutes?”

Glimmer gave Adora a glare that could have rivaled that Sarah Desert’s heat, “I’m fine.”

“Oh.”

Was that hurt she was trying to play? Glimmer could tell it was a role, just a part of some game Adora was trying to moderate- and she wouldn’t get tied into it. No, sir.

“Well, I’ll be at my desk when you want to get to work,” she flashed Glimmer a grin before prancing to her desk in the back the room, her signature hair swinging behind her.

Glimmer rolled her eyes; what a patronizing brat. She turned to look behind to where Adora was sitting, opening up a chrome book to work like the perfectly productive student she was.

Whatever gods controlled this world were poking fun at Glimmer by making her move to the back; sitting here at her desk she could at least pretend that nothing was out of the usual or that this assignment never happened and she didn’t have to talk to perfect, stupid, pretty Adora.

She glared at the body filling the seat next to her; if they hadn’t sat there, Adora could’ve already been there flashing her fake smiles and telling Glimmer what to do. Glimmer wouldn’t have to make the trek across the classroom in which everybody else was already seated, her feet the only ones moving in the room. To get to Adora’s desk she would have to walk in the middle aisle where everyone could turn and see her and wonder why she hadn’t moved yet like everyone else and whisper to their partners about why there tear streaks staining her face.

The idea of having to make deliberate steps towards Adora made what little stability she had in her body vanish into a writhing mess. It went against her most basic principles: Glimmer was not the type to associate with snakes.

Glimmer let her body go limp, her head hanging like an anvil attached to the base of her neck. The longer she waited, the more questions would be asked when she finally did get up. She took a deep breath and straightened her back; this was just a new challenge. Glimmer loved art assignments that forced her to try to something new, something she had never experienced and gave her room to experiment and learn. That’s all it was: a new project, a study into how little she could interact with her class (especially Adora) and still do well.

She glanced back again at Adora who grinned and waved as if beckoning her to the desk.

Has she been watching this whole time??

Glimmer swiveled her body away as quickly as she could, gritting her teeth; if Adora had been looking at her now, how long had she been watching Glimmer falling apart because she had to walk to another desk?

Glimmer inhaled sharply through her nose before standing up stiffly; she had to move now that Adora had seen her looking back there.

One foot, then another; one foot in front of the other. The back of the room came a lot sooner than Glimmer had been expecting and she slid into the seat next to Adora.

The blond moved her chair an inch or two closer to Glimmer’s; how repulsing, acting so friendly and sweet as if she wasn’t glaring at her only minutes before for being on time. Glimmer resisted moving her chair in the opposite direction and settled for leaning away. She just prayed Adora didn’t mention anything about how long it took for her to get the stupid desk or, even worse, trying to offer that blatant caricature of sympathy.

“Ok so, this what I have for the poster so far,” Adora waved at the screen in front of her and Glimmer let out a sigh of relief at the avoidance of the subject, “What do you think?”

Glimmer attempted to focus on what Adora was showing her when she realized she was actually asking for input. It certainly looked nice; a light pastel rainbow weaving its way through the text. Who could have known Adora was one to appreciate an aesthetic theme? Giving it a second thought, it didn’t surprise Glimmer; Adora was supposedly perfect in every way so why wouldn’t her completely correct work look nice as well?

“Yeah. Looks great.”

Adora beamed at Glimmer’s grumbled response, “Really? You think so?!”

Glimmer raised an eyebrow almost involuntarily, “Why does it matter so much?”

“Well I know that you’re a really good artist so it just feels nice to hear you say that it looks nice,” Adora gave a small smile and shrugged, her shoulders rising like the warm blush reaching upwards on her cheekbones. Once again it hit Glimmer how unfairly nice Adora looked even when she was turning red.

Why was she blushing though? What reason would she unless she was admitting to something? Then it hit Glimmer, “Have you been looking through my damn art as well? You creep!”

She was hissing her words out because it was the only option she saw other yelling loud enough for the whole class to hear. How rotten could this girl get?!

Adora drew back quickly as if she had just been slapped, “What? No! I just- I’ve seen your art; almost all of us have- you draw in class all the time and some of your stuff is up in the halls!”

She was rushing out her words as if terrified, like a someone accused of murder trying to stutter out their alibi.

Glimmer allowed herself to relax backwards from where she had rushed forward into Adora’s face. They were both still tense and Glimmer began thinking maybe she had spoken too soon. Adora might not be someone to be trusted to be genuine but that didn’t mean she was be sneaking around to look at Glimmer’s art. What motive would she have anyways?

Despite how stupid Glimmer was feeling, she was struggling to apologize to the girl in front of her. No matter how startled she looked, Glimmer knew at least part of it was a front put up to lure Glimmer into the trap the rest of the school had fallen into, “Sorry I snapped at you. It’s not like you’d have an opportunity to look at my stuff anyways.”

Adora still looked slightly shaken- why did what Glimmer say make such a difference to her?- but she managed a tiny quirk in her lips, “We’re not all out to get you, you know? And we don’t think you’re stupid. I’m not your enemy, ok?”

Oh, wow. This was just classic manipulation. Glimmer wondered if she had told everyone else the exact same thing; pulling everyone aside at one point or another to tell them that they could be buddy-buddies. Maybe she had her speech written down somewhere.

“Yeah. Ok, sure.”

Adora snorted, “What, do you really think I am out to get you? Why would I do that?!”

Apparently Glimmer’s agreement hadn’t sounded as factual as she had thought, “Look, I don’t know; can we just do our work?”

She got a sigh in response; did Adora really expect her to become one her lackies just because she had said something about “not being enemies”? Fat chance.

Adora turned away to do her work in silence but not before glancing at Glimmer one last time. She pulled off the “sad” look really well.

Glimmer shifted and pulled her phone out of her bag in a way she hoped was stealthy and pulled up the text conversation with her best friend:

Bow I need help. I’m sitting next the annoying soccer girl. The one I told you about from yesterday.

You mean Adora? I don’t know why you don’t like her

Because she’s FAKE

She’s really nice Glimmer You should try being friends with her

No thanks I try not to befriend plastic

Glimmerrrrrrr she’s not totally fake

YES she IS

Do you actually have any proof of that?

Glimmer blew an exasperated puff of air out of her nose from the lack of support from her friend and began typing faster.

Yesterday she was pretending to be all against everything Weaver says about me and then today she was agreeing with Weaver despite the fact I was actually ON TIME TODAY

Why don’t you ask her about it? You said yesterday that she told you she didn’t like Weaver. She might just be pretending so that she can get volunteer hours and honestly I don’t blame her lol

Or maybe she’s just pretending so that I’ll think she’s nice so I’ll join her hoard of brainwashed followers.

Glimmer I like her. Are you calling me brainwashed?

No Bow you know I’m not. It’s just,, we both know nobody REAL gets to be as popular as she is

Maybe that’s not true maybe that’s an assumption that doesn’t fit her

Glimmer let out a huff and shoved her phone back into its pocket in her backpack just as Weaver stalked over.

“How is the work going Glimmer?”

Glimmer made unblinking eye contact with the woman standing several feet taller than her from where she was sitting, “It’s going great.”

Weaver smiled, “If I see that phone one more time, I’m taking it.”

“I need that though,” Glimmer opened and closed her mouth, not knowing how to explain her situation; how she never knew if her mom would be able to pick her up after school because of her unpredictable job, how she waited for that call, how if it didn’t come she would have to walk through the not-so-safe parts of town and how it everything felt so much more safe if she could call someone.

“Then I suggest you keep it put away,” Weaver used that same stinging purr from earlier that Glimmer hated so much.

“But I, I-“ she made eye contact with Adora who had looked up from where she was hunched over her work just long enough to see what a stuttering mess Glimmer had become.

“She was just looking up some information about our element because I had forgotten it.”

Weaver raised an eyebrow as she shifted her attention to rest on Adora, “Oh really? Then why would she hide it just as I waked up like someone who was feeling guilty?”

“Maybe because when she was clearly using it to work yesterday, you began bothering and insulting her.”

Glimmer had never heard Adora say something like with such a sharp tone and certainly nothing directed at Weaver.

The teacher seemed equally surprised, blinking at Adora in silence before finally speaking, her voice as cold as the metal of a clever, “I see.”

She turned the other way and marching towards the front of the room, her gate seemingly stiffer than usual.

Glimmer turned towards Adora, “Why would you do that? You know she’s never going to let you volunteer again, right?”

Adora shrugged, “She probably will.”

Glimmer kept staring, expecting more from Adora who just turned to focus back on the screen again.

“You didn’t answer: why did you that?”

Adora’s hands froze over the keyboard for several moments without any kind of movement before she finally shifted to look Glimmer directly in the face, “Maybe it’s because I really do think how she treats you is wrong? Maybe it’s because I wouldn’t mind being your friend because I actually do think you’re smart and talented? Maybe it’s because I am on your side and because I am so confused why you think you need to fight me, fight everybody.”

Glimmer held her gaze before shrugging and turning away. Adora didn’t need to know about her personal life; it would just give her more to work with so she could brainwash her, “I’m going to start on the model tonight but I already have all the materials- don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t,” Today Adora was the one sounding blunt.

“What?” Glimmer figured the girl was just mad just she wouldn’t open up and get all friendly out of the blue.

“I wasn’t worried that you didn’t have the materials or wouldn’t get it done or whatever you were telling me not to worry about.”

“Oh. Ok.” Glimmer didn’t look up from where she was doodling a sample of metal Bismuth. She didn’t understand why Adora was making a big deal out of everything. Maybe this was the second phase when people didn’t suddenly fall in love with her.

“I’m not worried about this project because, despite what you might think, I’m not just a mini-Weaver who thinks you’re lazy and can’t do anything.”

Glimmer didn’t hold back the eye roll this time, “Wow, nice. Thanks.”

Adora opened her mouth to say something and even reached out her hand to touch Glimmer before drawing back. Glimmer liked to think that it was because of the biting glare she had thrown in Adora’s direction but maybe it was just the girl’s common sense kicking in and telling her that it wasn’t the way to win Glimmer over.

Glimmer centered her attention on the paper in front of her; like yesterday she was grateful for its comforting distraction. She allowed herself to be absorbed in the swirls of colour she was creating, the shine of the metal giving her something to focus on other than the shine of the student next to her. She was basing the image from her memory of the picture she had pulled up yesterday and she could already hear Ms Perfectionist next to her critiquing the inaccuracies.

And, just like yesterday, something had to go wrong and her comfortable bubble was popped. Today, it was some idiot bumping the table, causing her carefully lined up pencils to spill to the floor. Luckily, Glimmer had been able to jerk her hand away from the page quickly enough to spare the drawing from being ruined. (It was a good thing too because Glimmer would have actually screamed). That didn’t change the fact, however, that her pencils were rolling across the floor to whatever free-land pencils go to when they disappear forever.

Glimmer ducked under the table to began gather them up and was able to grab almost all of them in just a few seconds. She was reaching to get one from where it had stopped under the next desk over, trying to get it before the owner of the desk noticed her, when a soft hand was placed on her shoulder. It startled and her head jolted upwards, slamming into the table top above her.

“Ow,” she shot at Adora with a glare.

Adora didn’t seem to notice; her hand had been brushed off when Glimmer had turned to glare at her and was now hanging limply. Her eyes seemed unfocused in the direction of Glimmer’s paper and her mouth was hanging slightly open. She turned her glazed eyes to look in Glimmer’s face in awe, “Glimmer that’s amazing. And, what, you’ve been working on it for like 20 minutes?!”

Glimmer shrugged. She seemed to do that a lot around Adora; maybe it was because she never knew what was going on with this girl, “Closer to half an hour, but yeah.”

“Can I use this on the poster?” Adora was practically drooling over the paper.

“Sure?” Glimmer squinted up at the other. Maybe this was attempt number three at convincing Glimmer that Adora actually wanted to be her friend and wasn’t just trying to enlist her in her throng of followers. It wasn’t working but Glimmer had to admit she did seem pretty genuine this time.

The bell rang and Adora offered Glimmer a hand up among all the scuffling people and chairs.

Glimmer waved the hand away and managed something between a smile and a grimace, “I have to finish picking these up.”

Adora gave her one last small grin before picking up her stuff and starting to walk away.

“Adora!” Glimmer called out, “Go ahead and take the drawing if you want it. I’ll probably just forget and throw it away if you don’t.”

The girl reached behind her and delicately picked up the piece of paper, still seemingly in-awe. Glimmer didn’t know what she was trying to do, but she certainly was playing the role well. Adora flashed her a wider smile this time and turned once more to leave the room.

Glimmer watched her go from where she was still crouched on the floor. Adora was wearing purple today and Glimmer had to admit it looked nice; but that should have again been no surprise since Adora could pull off anything.

Glimmer grabbed the last pencil and shoved the whole bunch into her bag. She could bet fairly certainly that Adora was more organized than her. How aggravating. She swung the straps of her bag over her shoulders and began trudging out of the room. She had to admit that it was nice not having to walk past Weaver on the way out.

She didn’t like sitting next to Adora, but there were perks.

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stories-mostly · 6 years ago

Text

Starks Bug

Tony Stark x Son! Reader

This ones a bit short, sorry.

Words: 1664

Chapter 3

You were now two years old. And you were starting to create a bit of a mess around the house. Tony has recently been busy with a project so you spend most of your time downstairs in the lab with him. The small kitchen like part of the lab was now fenced in to keep you away from potentially dangerous things. Dum-E was also fenced in with you to keep you company.

Currently you were entertaining yourself with a recorder, it had a story cassette inside which wasn't playing since you used the microphone as you attempted sing along with ACDC. Which was played on a much lower volume than if you weren't in the lab.

Your dad was nodding his head along too.

You were having the time of your life performing Back in Black with lyrics that consisted of mumbling and dance moves that were basically just jumps.

Tony chuckled when he saw that. He was close to finishing the prototype he worked on, he already had a plan on what to do for the rest of the day.

And just as he put the last part into place his plan arrived.

"Uncle Rhodey!!!" you screamed as said man walked into the lab. You walked over and made grabby hands at him. He picked you up with one swift motion and began to tickle you.

"How's my favourite Stark? Still a little brat?" you screamed with laughter as he continued to tickle you before walking over to Tony.

"Are you two ready to go somewhere with me?" Rhodey asked as he hugged Tony.

"Mmmmh I don't know, I'm a bit busy at the moment... What do you think, Bug? You think we can go with him?"

"YES!" you shouted and threw your little fist up.

"Alright but only cause you said so, Bug. Go upstairs, get dressed with Uncle Rhodey I just have to clean some things up down here. See you in a minute."

Rhodey walked with you on his hip out of the lab and to your room to get you dressed for your adventure.

"Where do you think we're going?" He asked as he sat you down to rummage through your closet.

"... Park?"

"Close but not right. Try again."

"Woods?"

"No."

"Playground!?"

"There is a playground nearby but that's not where we're going."

"I don know." You said in your cute pouty 'pwease get me what I want. I'm just a helpless little baby'-voice

"Well I guess you'll just have to wait and see. Which one do you like better this one or this one?" Rhodey said and asked about the two sweaters he was holding.

One was a green one without anything on it and the other was your Mickey mouse sweater so obviously you had to go with that one. He wasn't even slightly fazed by your cutesy tone.

"Mickey!"

"The rodent it is!"

Rhodey put the entire outfit on your bed and helped you change into it.

"Okay now, who do you like better? Uncle Rhodey or Daddy?"

"Daddy and uncle Rhodey!"

"Oh? It's a tie? Don't tell daddy but I like you better than him."

He was finished with dressing you and picked you up again. You could walk just fine but he liked to carry you and you liked to be carried.

"Daddy come quick!" You shouted as Rhodey walked into the lab.

Rhodey put you down so you could run over to your dad.

"Look! Is Micky!"

"Woah that's so cool! Are you ready to go out with Daddy and Uncle Rhodey?"

"Yes Yes Yes! Let's gooooo!"

They put you into your car seat and got into the car themselves. Tony had already put everything you needed into the trunk.

On the ride to your destination you were once again performing your little heart out this time in the confinement of your car seat.

After a handful of songs you pulled up at your destination.

"So last guess, where are we?" Rhodey asked. You looked out the window but didn't see anything that gave little young you any clue as to where you were.

You shrugged.

"Then you'll have to wait until we're inside." Tony sing songed and both of them got out of the car.

You were released from your seat and put on your coat before climbing out of the car. Your dad was getting the stroller and a bag out of the trunk.

"Okay, one thing before we go. You have to stay close, no running off. No screaming, and you politely ask for something you want. Understood?" Tony was serious while he would love to spoil you rotten he didn't want to turn you in one of those unbearable brats.

You nodded and held onto the stroller while following Rhodey.

As you finally left the car park you rounded the corner and were struck with the realization on where you are.

"THE ZOO!" You screeched and jumped up and down. You had heard about zoos in the stories that were read to you. And Tony had given you a picture book full of pictures of actual zoos. This was one of them.

"Exactly! What do you wanna see inside?" Rhodey asked cheerfully.

" arks!"

"Sharks, Sh-arks. They're cool right?"

And with that your first adventure began. Once inside you were quieter, Rhodey had said how animals don't like screaming so you were nice and quiet.

You walked around and looked at all the different animals going about their day. Flamingos were one of your favorites.

"What color are they (y/n)?"

"Red!"

"No, they're pink!"

"Pink!"

"Yes, you're so smart!"

You answered a lot of questions that day from colors to noises to what that animal actually is. You really couldn't figure out what the hell a king penguin was. Up until then you had no concept of size variations within a species. You really thought all penguins were small and cuddly. But they aren't. These penguins were your size. Maybe even bigger. It was sort of a scary experience.

Last stop was the aquarium. You walked past the different tanks mimicking some fish and laughing at others.

"Look, that looks like nemo! Remember when we watched that movie?" Tony pointed out. You were lifted by Rhodey to get a better view. And there he was. A clownfish! A real life Nemo!

"Why Nemo here? Nemos not in ocean?" You asked as you intensely stared at the fish.

"Thats not actually Nemo. That's uhm, Max his uncle. He likes it here better than in the ocean so he moved here with his girlfriend." Rhodey explained. "Nemo and his friends are still in the ocean don't worry."

You nodded it made sense to you that it was his uncle that lived here.

You moved on.

"Dad Dad look look! Shhharks!" you said trying to pronounce it right.

"Wow they're soooo big! How long do you think they are?"

"This long!" you said spreading out your small arms as far as possible.

"Look! That Magic!" You said pointing to the stingray in the same tank and holding your stuffed one you named Magic against the glass.

"Wow no way!" Rhodey said. You were smiling very brightly and didn't notice the clicks of your fathers camera going off behind you as you stared at the sharks and stingrays swimming past.

At the end of your trip you were all tuckered out only the trip to the gift shop woke you up for a short time again.

"You can have one thing." Tony said and send you off. You decided to make this one count and tried to lift a giant shark plushie that was conveniently placed at your level.

"This one this one this one Dada!"

"Okay but that's the only thing you're getting." He said picking it up and going to pay for it. At that moment you heard a child that was about you age cry. Having been told what you were you went over to her and told her.

"Shhhh. You cannot be loud in zoo!" You said and gave her a hug. In her hands she was holding a relatively life sized stuffed lion cub.

"You want that?" You asked her after letting her out of the hug.

She nodded.

"Did you ask nice?" She nodded again. Meanwhile her parents were beside the two of you looking at you sadly.

"(y/n)! Good god there you are! Tony he's here. (y/n) you can't just walk away without telling us!" Rhodey suddenly grabbed you interrupting your train of thought.

"Jeez bug you almost gave me a heart attack. Mind telling why you ran off?"

"She is sad. I'm helping." You explained yourself in an insistent tone.

Both of the girls parents were suddenly frozen.

The parents stammered to explain that they couldn't afford what she wanted after promising her to get her a stuffed lion. They could barely afford the trip to the zoo altogether.

"Well it's rude to break a promise right?" you nodded at your father's statement. "Let me pay for it. How much is it?"

"Yes! My daddy can buy it!"

Both parents tried to refuse but your dad insisted and even asked if she was sure she wanted this one and not another one. But she was sure and the 25 dollar lion was paid for.

You waved at her while walking away she had the biggest smile on her face.

"You know what (y/n)? You're a really nice kid. I bet you'll grow into a good man." Rhodey praised as you crawled into your car seat close to falling asleep. Rhodey took your coat off and handed you your shark before strapping you in and closing the door.

On the drive back the music was quiet as you fell asleep in the back. Probably dreaming about all the different animals you saw today.

At home you were brought to your bed that you only used for naps as you slept in Tony's at night.

Rhodes and Tony skipped through the pictures on the camera. Your first time at the zoo was a success. And now you had a shark and a bunch of pictures to remember that day as you will forget it once you're older.

Tags: @shannonr2003 @art-estrange @nicholasbich @tater-thottie @tonystanktheirondad @gaylemonshark

Thank you for reading. If you'd like to be tagged please say so. Have a great day :).

#tony stark x son!reader #tony stark x male!reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark #male reader #male!reader #m!reader #child!reader #Starks bug chapter 3 #chapter 3 #marvel reader insert #reader instert #son!reader #child reader #marvel #Starks bug

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lostinfic · 6 years ago

Note

I would love to read an Alec Hardy fic that involved him recieving oral. I think about that a lot. 😳

Anonymous said to lostinfic: 31/38 hardyxhannah

#31 Spanking

#38 Ownership/claiming/marking → already written

A/N: I tried to write this as in character as possible, so… yeah, it’s interesting

➜ Kink flashfiction

Ao3

It wasn’t planned. Far from it. But she supposed it had always been on her mind, ever since her failed foray into domination. She didn’t have it in herself to flog another human being, but she had envied the blissed out look on these men’s face as they submitted completely. But at that point, there was no one she trusted enough to even try this particular fetish.

It first happened two years into their friendship. A sporadic relationship that admittedly didn’t make any sense, yet somehow they just “got” one another.

She’d lost a boyfriend and had a big row with Ben. Her clients annoyed her to no end, and the men she hooked up with at night failed to make her come.

She felt scattered.

She couldn’t stand herself, yet felt very far from her own body.

So she went to Hardy.

Tess had taken Daisy out of town to see her parents. He was busy tearing rotten planks out of the patio behind the house.

The midday sun beat down over them, lending a hazy glow to the air. Mirage heat.

Hannah pulled the hem of her t-shirt through the collar and sat in the sun.

With a hand over her eyes, she watched him push on a crowbar until the plank cracked then pull it off with his bare hands.

“Don’t you ever stop working?” she asked.

“It’s cathartic.”

He threw the plank away.

“Maybe I should try that.”

“You’re more than welcome to help,” he said, wiping his forehead with his arm.

“Nah.”

“Why are you here anyway?”

She tried to explain what had happened with Ben and her boyfriend, and how she felt. It was a stream of consciousness more than a conversation.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Dunno what you want me to say, Han.”

“Could you give me a hug?”

After a moment of hesitation, he ditched the crowbar and wiped his hands on his worn out jeans. He tried to avoid touching her bare skin, but Hannah wrapped her arms around his neck so he had no choice but to hug her waist.

His skin smelled like salt and wood chips. His hands were rough.

“Better?” he asked.

It wasn’t enough. Like a spider web to tether a zeppelin, she might drift off any second.

“Tighter,” she asked.

His fingers reached for her ribs. Their chests expanded for breath alternately. In and out. From one to the other.

He rested his cheek atop her head. Closed his eyes. Allowed himself 10 seconds of respite.

“It’s only guilt you’re feeling,” he said.

She pushed him off.

“Just because you’re feeling guilty all the time doesn’t mean I am.”

Hardy reeled from the sudden backlash.

“I can live with my sins. I can live with who I am,” she insisted.

“You sure about that?”

“You think you’ve got me all figured out.”

“What d’you want from me?”

“Nothing.”

“Why are you here then?”

She should leave. But she couldn’t go. She stayed there, breathing raggedly, teeth and fists clenched. Her nails bit into her palms. She pressed them harder.

“Han?” There was genuine concern in his voice.

“I need a spanking,” she blurted out.

Hitting another person went against everything he believe in, but she convinced him. There was something about Hardy, he was a policeman and strived to do the right thing, from the beginning of their friendship he had been her rock. No one else would do.

Whereas she needed to give up control, he needed to regain some— especially when he was with Hannah.

It was bond to be awkward at first. The smacks were too light, and even though she'd asked for it she fought him. But when they both gave in, the relief was instantaneous. The pain grounded her, and made her feel absolved.

They didn’t talk about it afterwards. Not until she found herself feeling all out of sorts again the following year. Although she was reluctant to ask, this time she knew what the solution was.

After that, with each spanking session, it became easier to submit. It reset things between them, reaffirmed their trust and care for each other,

It became more pleasurable too. The proximity, the intimacy. If Hardy noticed her arousal, he never mentioned it.

It didn’t happen often, only a handful of times across the years, but he recognized the signs now. She would get restless and moody, snarkier than usual. A behaviour designed to push him away, not because she disliked him but because, sometimes, she disliked herself. He knew that now.

Like today. He'd spent the weekend in London with her and was about to leave for Broadchurch. She'd been acting strange since his divorce.

“Do whatever the fuck you want. I don’t care,” Hannah shouted.

“I will.”

“Fine. Piss off!”

As she left the room, Hardy instinctively grabbed her arm. She looked at his hand, then at his face with a frown. He had never initiated it before. For the first time, he knew what she needed before she did herself.

“You’ve been bad,” he said.

Hannah swallowed thickly.

He gave her time to think, to voice her objection if need be. She hung her head.

“Over my knees. Now.”

Hardy let go of her arm and sat down on the couch. He patted his lap. He kept his voice steady and level, he never raised it, never threatened or tried to scare her.

Hannah shuffled over. Everything in her rebelled against this, even if she wanted it.

She knew he was right. Ever since he'd left Tess, she'd hoped for things she didn't dare admit even to herself. And when this weekend with him didn't turn out the way she'd dreamed, she took her frustration out on him.

“C’mon,” he said with a hint of impatience in his voice; it was part of his role.

Hannah placed herself across his knees, her cheek on the velvet couch and her feet dangling on the other side. He crossed her wrists behind her back and held them in one hand. An uncomfortable and unsteady position, completely at his mercy, but secured by his firm grasp.

As he’d learned to do, he squeezed her butt cheeks over her shorts to increase the blood flow and prevent bruises. She tried to squirm out of his hold, but this too was part of their roles.

“Why do I need to spank you today?” he asked.

She didn’t answer so he landed the first slap over her bum. She jolted in his lap with a fake cry of pain.

“Answer me.”

“No.”

He tugged down her shorts and knickers, then rained little slaps all across her bum and the back of her thighs. Tension started leaving her body. Her fists unclenched as her cheeks reddened.

“Because I’m being a brat.”

“Aye.” He spanker her again. “And?”

This was the hardest for her to admit. It took three more spanks.

“Hannah?”

“Because I don’t really want you to go,” she mumbled.

He slapped both cheeks hard.

“Properly,” he demanded.

“Because I don’t really want you to go,” she said louder.

“Well done.”

He stroked her hair gently.

He had mixed feelings about seeing her like that, he loved his strong, confident Hannah, he’d rather she didn’t drive herself to these extremes, but felt privileged that she let herself be vulnerable with him.

She turned her head and nuzzled his palm. She was already in a sort of daze, the world around her forgotten.

“Make it hurt,” she asked in a soft voice.

When his hand left her face, she braced herself for the spanks to come. He had her count them out loud, to keep her in the moment, otherwise she forgot her limits.

All her nerves were on fire. She was panting and moaning, trying to avoid yet asking for more. Harsh slaps alternated with soothing caresses in an unpredictable pattern. The vibrations echoed between her legs. Each one kindled the fire in the pit of her stomach.

She widened her legs.

Did she even realize she was doing it? He tried not to look, but the glistening shades of pink were too alluring. He shifted under her— she was writhing too close to his groin. This was for her, not for him.

He slapped her inner thighs, and she clamped them shut.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

“No you’re not.”

She whimpered and tried to stay still. In this state, it didn’t even occur to her to shift position and seek the release she needed.

“Almost done. Can you take two more?”

“Yes, please.”

He spanked her twice, the hardest ones that echoed through the living room.

He released her wrists but kept a firm grip on her or else she would slump to the floor.

Hannah was high on whatever chemicals her brain released in these moments. The fact that he’d initiated the spanking had made the session even more intense for her. But she needed more.

She spread her legs again.

His breath hitch.

She canted her hips, pressing her pubic bone against his knee.

“Please.”

When he didn’t speak, she looked up at him and he remembered his role.

“Do you think you deserve it after acting like a brat?”

She surprised him by sliding to the floor between his legs. Her face was flushed, her eyes glazed over.

“I want to be good for you,” she said.

She ran her hands up this thighs, looking up at him with wide doe eyes. Her mouth followed the same path as her hands, and he hardened at the feel of her hot breath through his trousers.

“You don’t have to…” he said weakly.

“I want to. You're always there when I need you and you never asked for anything in return.”

This wasn't entirely true, but any rational though exited his brain when she unfastened his belt and unzipped his fly. She stroked him over the cotton of his pants.

He wasn’t fully hard, he’d been too focused on her, but it all came rushing to his groin the moment she touched him.

She grinned when he twitched under her palm. She looked more like herself now with a challenging twinkle in her eyes. Her fingertips slipped through the opening and grazed his length.

Shocked, he didn’t move and held his breath.

“Hardy?”

“Hm?”

“What should I do?”

Right, he was still in control.

“I don’t think you want to be good, you’re being a tease.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Then use your mouth.”

She nodded.

There was a single-minded determination to the way she licked and kissed him to full hardness. A sort of adoration he’d never been on the receiving end of.

When she wrapped her lips fully around the tip, he threw his head back and groaned. She focused on the head, swirling her tongue around and pressing it to the sensitive underside. She slipped her hands under his shirt, caressing his taut stomach. He fisted the couch cushions.

“Keep going.”

She took him, gagging deep.

“Careful. Slow down, love.”

He twisted her long blond hair around his fist and guided her rhythm. She hummed and closed her eyes, giving herself entirely to the task. Her warm tongue swirled around on the way up, her lips squeezed on the way down. His engorged glistened with saliva and lip gloss. She rubbed her thighs together.

It came as no surprise that she was extremely good at this. He chased away the nagging doubt that it was all an act, that she did it that way for clients too.

“Han,” he whispered like a prayer.

He caressed her cheek, and she released him with a pop just long enough to kiss his palm and offer a brilliant smile.

His pleasure escalated too quickly. He tapped her head to warn her, but she kept on sucking. He burst in her mouth with a grunt.

She continued to suckle as he softened, and he had to stop her when he became too sensitive.

She rested her head on his knee as he recovered.

He could have professed his love right then.

“Come here.”

He helped her to her feet, and she sat on his lap. He traced light patterns on her inner thigh, inching higher. He gave her time to change her mind, but even there her skin was slick.

“Kiss me,” he said. It was more a question than a command.

Any doubt that he’d overstepped the boundaries vanished when she cupped his cheeks and kissed him deeply. With a hand on the back of her neck, he didn’t let her break the kiss when he grazed her slit.

He moved slowly in and out, then added a second finger, keeping up the pace, then pressed the heel of his hand. The kiss turned messy and savage. Her juices coated his hand. Wet noises echoed in the room. His fingers moved quickly. He wanted her to see stars.

She clung to him, her nails left red crescents on his freckled skin.

She came fast and hard, her whole body quivering in his arms.

As she came down from her high, he rubbed her back in broad, soothing strokes.

Normally, she was happy and bubbly after a session, released from her anxieties, today she was unusually quiet.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“It was… different.”

“Yeah.”

“Talk to me, Han.”

She searched his face for a moment, then placed her hand upon his chest.

“I'm just realizing that... you’re the only one for me.”

“Good.”

And he kissed her.

#Thanks for the prompts!#I hope you don't mind me combining them #Hardy x Hannah #Teninch fic #lostinfic writes stuff #kink flashfiction #I don't know if anyone will even like this #Anonymous #Reply

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sabrinaprotectionsquad-blog · 6 years ago

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Au Yea August 9 - The Summer of our Discontent

@auyeahaugust

Day 9 - Summer camp

writing one fic per day? haha I’m sure I can do that, haha... well, still going strong anyway. Still having a lot of fun with the challenge anyway.

Alix and Sabrina are camp counselors. Alix finds herself annoyed that Sabrina's spending a lot of time pampering to the needs of some snot nosed bratty princess wannabe just because she yells loudly.

Link to Ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/15631410

“BRINA! I WANT A JUICEBOX!” the squealing high pitched voice of a pampered 7 year old rang out into the cafeteria. Alix had gotten sick of hearing the little demon princess’ voice within the first half hour of her arrival, here on day 2 she felt like every utterance from the snot-nosed whelp was another nail into her skull.

Some children were rotten, spoiled little brats, Alix had known that when she signed up to be counselor, and honestly the black haired little runt wouldn’t bother her much if it wasn’t for Sabrina.

The red headed girl’s attitude towards Chloé back home had always struck a nerve with Alix, always low-key annoyed her to see someone so utterly spineless following someone so blatantly heartless. However she’d always felt like it wasn’t her place to say anything, let the two idiots live in their strange little bubble for all she cared.

She’d been a little disappointed to meet the glasses wearing mouse as part of introductions to the camp. She’d hoped to get away from Chloé and the drama back home, not get closer to one of the common causes of said drama.

Her first conversation with Sabrina at camp had brought a glimmer of hope, “I think Chloé and I could use a few weeks apart.” She’d said smiling “It’s going to be really fun to be a counselor right? I’m glad there’s someone I know here, makes it a little less scary right?” It had given Alix hope that there was more to Sabrina than a lapdog, and for a few hours there had been.

The first few hours of the campers arriving had featured a smiling, welcoming and pedagogical Sabrina, the kind that would really help Alix take care of the rowdy runts and even seemed like she could possibly be fun to hang with.

That was until she arrived, Carmilla, a 7 year old who seemed to believe the world revolved around her to such an extend that her ego might actually have enough weight to create its own orbit. Her annoying high pitched voice had demanded immediate respect or retribution, and before Alix had gotten a chance to bury the girl’s face in the dirt, Sabrina had already started following the girls’ orders.

Alix felt her nails digging into her arms, watching Sabrina happily smiling as she offered another juicebox to the pouting princess. “I WANT APPLE!” she yapped, ignoring Sabrina’s assurance that they didn’t have more apple juice “I DON’T LIKE ORANGE!” she scowled, ignoring Sabrina’s attempts to bring to attention the empty orange juice box that she’d already drunk.

Sabrina stood up, looking around the cafeteria, she locked onto Alix, smiling and waving her over for some reason. It dawned on Alix that she herself was holding an unopened apple juice, having not had a chance to drink it since she had to pull double duty with the kids, since Sabrina had made caring for Carmilla a fulltime job.

Alix felt her blood fuming, that was the last straw. She stomped towards Sabrina, she stood in front of her with her arms crossed, in her head telling Sabrina not to dare say what she knew she was going to say.

“Carmilla wants apple juice but there isn’t any more, could she have yours?” Sabrina smiled at her innocently; the idiot really didn’t see her own idiocy, which just made her more idiotic.

Alix raised an eyebrow looking down at Carmilla, who was scowling at her, as though her only thought regarding Alix could be ‘why hasn’t the juice been transferred from you to me already!?’

Alix looked at Sabrina with as much of a resting bitch face as she could muster “no, we’re out, she’s gonna have to deal.”

Sabrina’s smile wavered “but I mean, you have one and…”

Alix poked the straw through the box, looking down into Carmilla’s confused eyes as she drank the juice, emptying the small carton quickly, then crushing it and letting it fall on the table in front of the devastated child.

Sabrina closed the door behind her, Carmilla’s loud wailing could be heard clearly through the door. Alix could clearly see that Sabrina wanted to get done with this quickly so she could go pamper and help the impossible little brat.

“I can’t believe you Alix! That was really immature!” Sabrina puffed herself up, her face red with anger and disappointment. It was strange seeing the mousey girl with something resembling righteous anger, refreshing even, but of course, incredibly misplaced.

“I’m immature? Right. What about you!? You pamper that little princess wannabe every hour of the day. You’re supposed to be a counselor, not a personal maid!”

Sabrina pouted “she needs a lot of help, you’re a bad counselor if you don’t wanna help the children.” She stated factually, childishly.

Alix snorted “she doesn’t need to be treated like that. You’re going to end up creating a little Chloé-clone. Is that what you want?”

Sabrina paused for a moment, her eyes showing a hint of weakness. “There’s… there’s nothing wrong with Chloé.”

Alix cocked an eyebrow at Sabrina who shrank a little, “you can’t honestly believe that right?”

Sabrina bit her lip “it’s complicated. Chloé’s actually really nice, she just has a hard time being open with people after her mom left. She’s better when it’s just the two of us, it’s taken a long time to build up that trust.”

Alix rolled her eyes “but why do you bother? You spend all your time trying to help someone who barely ever treats you nicely.”

Sabrina sighed, she looked down into the floor “it’s because… I guess I acted really shitty too for awhile after my mom…” she looked like she was going to start crying.

Shit Alix didn’t know what to do, she hadn’t expected things to go in this direction and crying people made her really uncomfortable. “um… there there?” she half heartedly patted Sabrina’s shoulder.

Sabrina snorted, smiling sadly at Alix “that’s the best you got? How did they make you a camp counselor? What are you going to do when a child’s upset, poke her with a stick?” Sabrina wiped a forming tear from her eye, smiling despite herself.

Alix thanked the heavens “hey fuck you I’m great with kids. They never cry long after I start beating them!” she smiled jokingly at Sabrina, more than happy to hear the orangehaired girl laugh at her crass joke.

“You’re terrible” she chuckled, pushing at Alix’ shoulder.

Alix chuckled back “now for that Carmilla girl” Alix found a large soup ladle, picking it up and testing it’s weight against her hand “I say we show her some tough love”

Sabrina shook her head smiling at the absurdity “you’d kill her for sure.”

Alix smiled cockily “even better! That way everyone’s happy!”

“Except for us, we’ll be caught for sure.” Sabrina crossed her arms, bringing her hand up to her chin, contemplating “although, maybe we can pin it on André, that snot-nosed punk tried to put gum in my hair. Two flies, one child murder.”

Alix’ eyes went wide, she smiled broadly “My God, the girl can be morbid, hallelujah.” She chuckled.

Sabrina looked suddenly embarrassed “no I mean… you started it…”

Alix cocked her head to the side and smiled “I don’t get you ‘Brina. You seem like you could be cool but you hold yourself back.”

Sabrina brushed her hair behind her ear, looking away. “No I couldn’t, shut up! You think cause you’re awesome it’s easy for others, but it’s just not. Some of us are just weird.”

Alix rolled her eyes “It’s gotta take real effort to say something so wrong in so little time.” She thought for a moment “except for me being awesome, you’re right about that, go ahead and say more of that.” She smirked.

Sabrina scoffed “yea right. Your ego’s already so large that if I started feeding it you might explode and take out the entire camp.”

Alix chuckled “please, if your words could overfill an ego then you’d be serving for Chloé’s murder.”

Sabrina laughed “I guess that’s true. But it really does help her. She needs love and support.”

Alix rolled her eyes “she needs a smack on the head! I get that she needs therapy but you’ve gotta be able to see that she needs some tough love, not constant pampering. Same with that brat in there! If you do everything for them they won’t be grateful, they’ll just take you for granted and demand more!”

Sabrina sighed deeply “so what do you want me to do? Ignore their cries for help?”

Alix shook her head “maybe split your focus a little. Carmilla doesn’t need all of your time, you could help the other kids more, and you could maybe help her by showing her that everyone can’t always drop everything because she wants a lollipop.”

Sabrina nodded thoughtfully “I… guess maybe that’s true… I can try.” She smiled “thanks Alix.”

Alix rubbed the back of her head “don’t go all mushy on me, I just hate when people don’t know they are being dumb. Let’s get back to the others aight?”

Sabrina nodded. As Alix turned towards the door she felt a hand on her shoulder “Alix wait um… there’s one thing…”

Alix turned around impatiently, imagining the third counselor who’d been tasked with keeping an eye on the dining children all alone for much too long. “what?”

Sabrina bit her lip, clearly struggling to get herself to say something which hung at the tip of her tongue. Alix sighed, putting a hand on Sabrina’s shoulder “hey, you can tell me, I won’t tell anyone, cause I’m 100 percent sure I won’t care.”

Sabrina scoffed, smiling at Alix’ comment, though her serious face didn’t fade, “I just… I wanted to know if you were gay.” Sabrina was looking away, a heavy blush on her face. It didn’t take a genius to read her intentions, and Alix was no genius!

Alix shook her head “I’m not.” But someone in here probably is.

“Oh…” Sabrina looked into the floor with clear disappointment. “I was just… curious like… with the hair and…”

Alix scoffed “right… anyway I’m not straight either. I’m like, nothing, I’m aroace. I’m not into that stuff at all.”

Sabrina took a moment to process, disappointment clearly plastered across her face.

Alix sighed “if it helps, if I was forced at gunpoint to choose I guess I’d rather date a girl than a boy.”

Sabrina looked up at her “really?”

She shrugged “they don’t smell as bad and they’re prettier to look at.”

Sabrina half-smiled at her, but Alix quickly shot her down with a scowl “don’t get any ideas though, as I said, I don’t do that mushy stuff, not any part of it, got it?”

Sabrina scoffed defensively “what? I mean… I was just curious you know? I wasn’t trying to hit on you or anything…!”

Alix looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a harsh expression, it didn’t take more than a second for Sabrina to crumble “don’t… don’t tell anyone…!”

Alix shrugged “I can’t imagine a world in which I would feel the need to tell anyone that you like girls. I’m not a gossip and I honestly, HONESTLY don’t care.”

Sabrina looked at Alix like she couldn’t believe that someone was just apathetic to her queerness. Alix could kind of understand, before she started being more open about it, she’d struggled a lot with her asexuality and aromanticism and what people might think.

Like Sabrina, she’d had to learn that it was a part of her, but it wasn’t actually a big deal to anyone else. That fact was both comforting and a little annoying, she’d been very ready to fight anyone who didn’t take her orientations seriously, but she’d yet to actually meet anyone who strictly opposed her, she had high hopes for a chance at kicking Chloé’s ass once she found out though.

“You can talk to me about it, being queer. I have some experience and I think I know more than you” Alix felt herself practically choking on her words, why couldn’t everyone just be stoic and cool like her, why was she inviting someone else to share their mushy feelings with her? Alix resisted the urge to audibly groan.

Sabrina’s eyes lit up, it was clear that she’d needed someone to talk to, someone to just not judge her. The girls smiled at one another, Sabrina’s blush giving Alix pause “ok but as long as we’re clear that we’re not going to date. This?” she pointed between the two of them “not happening. This” she pointed to herself “doesn’t date, ever.”

Sabrina chuckled “are you going to talk down to me and treat me like garbage?”

Alix’ head tilted to the side confused “what?! Of course not!”

Sabrina smiled sadly “then I don’t think you’re my type anyway.”

Alix’ shoulders dropped, “oh hell no” she found the words shot out of her mouth involuntarily. Still, the idea of Sabrina pining for Chloé who abused her so terribly immediately broke any of Alix’ apathy. She looked at Sabrina with a determined scowl “I’m getting you a girlfriend.”

Sabrina did a doubletake “wh… what?”

“I don’t care who, literally anyone would be better for you than Chloé and I’m going to find someone and you’ll date and you’ll be happy!” she growled.

“You uh… don’t have to do that…” Sabrina said defensively.

“Oh but I do, like it or not, you’re my friend now. And I take care of my friends. And you need a supportive girlfriend, someone who cares about you and who is NOT a blonde asshat. So I’ll find you one, if you like it or not!” Alix grit her teeth, her demanding tone easily breaking down Sabrina’s barricade.

Sabrina smiled at her nervously “… ok… ok yea!” her nervous smile slowly turned more confident. She leaned down and hugged Alix tightly “thank you. Friend.” She smiled happily.

Alix groaned, how did this keep happening to her!?

#miraculous fanfiction #sabrina raincomprix #alix kubdel #fluff #aroace alix #SPS Writes #au yeah august

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kbtbb-soryu · 7 years ago

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Revenge [Mamoru Kishi] ~ Chapter 6

“Heheh. You don’t have to be so tense, Sister Jamie.” Aida straddled me and studied my face with amusement. “But I don’t mind seeing a woman who’s resisting slowly starting to give up, either.”

“I wasn’t sold by accident. I was kidnapped. You knew, didn’t you? Who I am. What I’ve been doing. You knew.”

“You’re as sharp as I expected. I won’t stop. Because this is a very important ceremony.”

“I bet you think everything is going according to plan, don’t you?”

“But it is. Don’t be scared… Now, let’s step into a whole new world together!” Aida’s fingers slowly started to unbutton my shirt.

“You took everything from me. And ever since then, I’ve never really cared about anything. But even so... I refuse to be defiled by the monster that stole my brother from me!!!” I yelled at the top of my lungs in rage. I brought my leg up and kneed him hard in the crotch. He cringed, loosening his grip on me. I kicked his stomach, causing him to fall off the bed. Just then…

“All right, that’s enough.” The door burst open and Kishi came in wielding a bamboo sword.

“Kishi?” I was half-sitting on the bed, my top half open and my hair messy. I was shocked; panicked. But at the same time relieved. Kishi came for me.

“How did you get in here? Nanao and the others were out there!” Aida asked, having gotten to his feet.

“Shut your trap. Give her back.” Kishi said. Out of Aida’s grasp, I scampered off the bed and made my way to Kishi’s side. He pushed me behind his back. Then he swung the sword up in the air and smacked Aida. “Ya rotten little brat!”

Aida cried out in pain as he fell to the floor once again. “You son of a bitch!” He grabbed a nearby fire extinguisher and waved it around.

“Kishi, watch out!” I yelled. Not that it was even necessary. Kishi struck Aida’s wrist with the sword.

“You’re the son of a bitch!” Kishi continued beating Aida senseless.

“S-stop! Please stop it!!” Aida cried.

“You arrogant bastard!!” Kishi beat the crap out of Aida with the sword, and before long he was knocked unconscious. “All this bulllshit about the discovery of love or whatever is just him acting out his perverted fantasies. Nothing good comes out of it when a brat like him gets too cocky.”

“Yeah… Thanks. You saved me.”

“Hey, Minami.”

“What is it?”

“Your shirt’s open.”

I looked down. I redid the buttons as nonchalantly as possible even though I felt like I was going to explode from embarrassment. “Where did you get the sword, anyway?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

“Swiped it the other day during fencing practice.” He rested the sword over his shoulder and grinned. He looked so cool in that moment.

“Kishi, did you know about this ceremony?”

“Yeah, I knew about it.”

“Why didn’t you warn me?”

“I never thought you’d be picked for it. Obviously as soon as I heard, I came here as fast as I could. Now let’s go.” He smiled and held out his hand to me. I gently took his hand. “Damn, your hand is freezin’! You were scared, huh?”

“I was a lot of things. Scared. Angry. He took everything from me and then he tried to take more…” I stared down at my hand in his. Unlike mine, his was warm. Aida rolled over on the floor, still unconscious. I glanced at him and something occurred to me. “We need to go. We can’t stay here anymore.”

“You’re pretty sharp, eh? There’s no tellin’ what they might try to do to us now. Let’s get outta here. And here I thought tonight would be the perfect chance to search Aida’s room.”

“Is that where you went off to?”

“Yep. But now that’s all screwed up, ‘cuz I had to come save you.”

“Wise choice. My brother would have kicked your ass from the other side if you let anything happen to me.”

“…This way.”

After we escaped from the “room of discovery”, Kishi pulled me by the hand as we walked through the darkness. The cult leaders who had been standing guard in the hallway were lying on the floor, unconscious. I can’t believe he did all this by himself. He was strong. He took me to a backdoor, in the opposite direction of the entrance to the grounds.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“They monitor the front. This is a hidden passageway reserved for the leaders. This is the way I got in. If you leave here and keep going straight, you can get out of the back of the compound. Now hurry up.”

“What about you?

“I still got stuff to do here. I’m stayin’.”

“You’re going back?”

“Yep. I’ll get on the horn and tell Kuroshima about you. Don’t worry.”

“Be careful.”

“You worried about me, kid?”

I smiled wryly. “I guess I am.”

“Don’t worry about it. As long as there’s no one getting’ in the way, I’ll be fine.”

“Make sure you come back to me.” Kishi chuckled and gently stroked my cheek. I closed my eyes at the feeling and placed my hand over his.

“Don’t worry. I’ll come after I’m done here. Now hurry up and go!” I nodded and ran towards the exit. Honestly, something’s changed in me since I met him. It’s like he’s broken down all of my walls I’ve worked so hard to build.

I waited at the back of the property for Kuroshima. I still don’t trust him. Then again, I don’t trust anybody. But I really, really distrust him. As I waited, I heard the sound of a loud alarm. Was Kishi found out? Without giving it a second thought, I made an about face and headed back into the compound. Inside, AID members were running around in a frenzy. I heard footsteps approaching and quickly hid myself in the shadows.

“Keep looking! Kishi and Minami have to be somewhere in this building!” Nanao barked out orders to the other members. With this many people, it was only a matter of time before they found him. I had to find him first.

I took extra care not to be seen as I moved through the building.

“Kishi!! Get your ass out here now!!” I saw Aida standing in front of his room, his face twisted with rage. I quickly hid myself again. The sound of him banging on the door reverberated through the hall. “I know you’re in there!” He was acting much differently than before. This must be the real Aida. “I’m gonna kill you!! Get out here now!!” Aida was trying to knock down the door, gun in hand. He finally broke through the door and rushed into the room. “Kishi, you son of a bitch!!”

“Damn it!” I heard Kishi’s voice.

“Haha! You can’t run away now!” There was a loud shot and the sound of Kishi groaning in pain.

To be continued…

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#mamoru #kishi #action #detective #revenge #kbtbb #kissed by the baddest bidder #voltage #voltage inc #otome #romance #love #fan fiction

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redgillan · 7 years ago

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Rotten Judgement - part 8

AU!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Hercules!AU After selling your soul to save your lover’s life, you become one of the Lord of the Underworld’s slave. Bucky is obsessed with one thing: collecting hearts. But why?

Word Count:1,997 (see what I did there?)

Warnings: the usual + Blood, Mention of Torture

A/N: The final chapter. Thank you all for your feedback, you literally tricked me into writing more ;) I adore you guys ♥ There’s an epilogue coming this Sunday bc it was already super long.

Rotten Judgement - Masterpage

“People do crazy things... when they’re in love.”

Nat gave Bucky a curt nod as she slowly closed the door. He stared at the closed door for a long moment, trying to understand the meaning behind her words.

Was she taunting him? Surely you couldn’t have sacrificed your life unless you truly loved him. He started pacing back and forth as he talked to himself.

“You are, by far, the most stubborn person I have ever met,” Bucky groaned, talking to your lifeless body. “If I say ‘black’, you say ‘white.’ You never listen. It's like you enjoy winding me up or something.”

Bucky waited a moment as if he was expecting an answer, but you just lay there, motionless. He rounded the table in two long strides and hunched over you. He brushed your hair away from your face, combing his fingers loosely through your hair.

“It’s a good thing you can’t interrupt me,” he said, a ghost of a smile curling his lips. “Now I can tell you how much I love you and you can’t tell me how much you hate me.”

He dropped a kiss to your forehead and closed his eyes shut. He finally had you all to himself, even if it was just for a second. As he moved away, he felt an intense pain in his chest, like someone had placed his heart in a vice grip and was applying pressure.

Bucky hissed through clenched teeth as something cracked open in his chest. The pain gradually faded and he relaxed slightly, wondering what just happened. He felt a flutter in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in centuries. His heart began to beat again, hard and fast, sending warmth through his veins.

His eyes still closed, he felt a smooth finger trace the crease that had formed between his brows. When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring into your eyes. He looked completely lost and it made you smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he parroted, completely flabbergasted.

Bucky gently helped you into a sitting position and had to hold on to you so you wouldn’t fall. He sat next to you on the table and observed you warily. You gave yourself a quick once over and turned your head to look at him.

“You changed my clothes?”

“Nat did,” Bucky almost choked on the words, then cleared his throat. “They were covered in blood.”

You let your legs dangle over the side of the table and smoothed the skirt of your long white dress. A long silence settled between you. You braced yourself and brought up the subject that you both had been avoiding

“So, I was dead, but now I’m not,” you said, glancing sideways at him. “I am a ghost or-”

“You were dead, but apparently...” he exhaled slowly and rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing. “I woke you up.”

“How?” You felt him shift uncomfortably next to you.

“I kissed you,” Bucky blurted out. “On the forehead,” he quickly added when you raised a brow at him.

“You kissed me on the forehead,” you repeated, frowning. “You can resurrect the dead with your lips?”

Bucky ducked his head to hide his blush. You looked at him and laughed softly, your smile threatening to split your face. You had never seen him blush before, but you definitely enjoyed the sight.

“True love’s kiss,” he said, looking up at you, then you started laughing quietly and his face fell. “You don’t believe in true love?”

“I do, but I never thought I’d have one.”

“Yeah, well, that you like it or not, I’m your true love,” he replied, his tone bitter.

You mentally scolded yourself and tried to think of what you could say or do to make things better. Sighing inwardly, you took his hand and linked your fingers together. His head snapped up and your eyes met.

“Nat said you had a frozen heart, but your skin is so warm,” you said, grinning. “Oh, and you’re blushing now, that’s new too.”

“True love’s kiss really does wonders, huh?” He bumped his shoulder against yours, a cheeky smile curling his lips.

“Apparently.”

You laid your free hand against his chest, his muscles twitching under your touch. His heartbeat thumped hard and fast under your palm. Bucky leaned in and pressed his forehead against yours. You stayed in that position for what felt like a very long time before you broke the silence.

“I feel weird, like I could do anything.”

“It’s quite normal,” he replied, pulling back so he could look you in the eye. “Our souls are linked, I’m sharing my immortality with you.”

You jumped off the table, your legs almost buckled under you. Bucky was beside you in a heartbeat and caught you before you could fall.

“I’m immortal?” you said, disbelief lacing your voice. He nodded. “Woah...”

“We’re not like other immortals.” Bucky’s arms circled your waist and drew you close. “True love is rare and I’m pretty sure you have powers now. I can feel the energy pulsing through you.”

“I’m kind of scared,” you replied honestly.

“It’s going to be okay, I’m here.” He brushed his lips against your temple. “But you have to promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“You can’t keep sacrificing yourself for the sake of others. Darlin’, I’m not worth it. We may be immortal, but we can feel pain and I can’t go through that again. Promise me.”

“You know I can’t.” You flinched when Bucky let out a loud groan. “You stayed by my side and tried everything to bring me back. No one ever did that for me and, honestly, I like seeing you like this.”

“What, frustrated?”

“Concerned.” You angled your head up and smiled. “It’s nice to know you have my back.”

“Always.”

He tilted his head to the side, his eyelids fluttering closed and his lips parting. Exhilaration coursed through you as you mimicked his movements. You could feel his warm breath fan your lips, but then someone knocked on the door. Reluctantly, Bucky let them in.

“Steve!” you cried, pulling away from Bucky to throw yourself into Steve’s arms. His arms went around you and he returned the embrace.

“I was told you needed my help, but...” he trailed off, his eyes darting from Bucky to you. “I’m sorry. I should have known Pierce was not a guardian angel. I can’t-”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted him. “It wasn’t your fault and I’m back now.”

“Thank you for bringing her back,” Steve told Bucky who made a noncommittal noise in response. “So you and him...” Steve whispered to you.

“Yeah, I think so.” You watched as Steve pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “I meant everything I said to you, Steve. You’re a wonderful man and you made me feel so special.”

“You are special. And he’s very lucky.”

A satisfied smile played on Bucky’s lips as he watched Captain America’s retreating figure. You had chosen him and it made him happier than he had ever thought possible. Steve paused at the threshold and turned toward you.

“If your new beau lets us leave the dungeons, I’d really like to see you again.”

You whirled around to face Bucky, your face a picture of astonishment. He shuffled his feet awkwardly and avoided your angry eyes. He looked like a little boy who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“You put my friends in the dungeons?” You nearly shouted. “Seriously?!”

Bucky stumbled over his words, and for the first time in his life, his confidence vanished completely. Steve’s small smirk wasn’t helping at all. So instead of making a bigger fool of himself, Bucky took a few steps towards Steve and pushed him out of the room.

“You’re all pardoned, now get the hell outta here,” he said, slamming the door in his face.

“You’re unbelievable,” you sighed, rubbing the spot between your eyes. You closed your eyes and took a minute to gather your thoughts. “You thought Steve was my true love?”

“Well, you always spoke so highly of him.”

“I was trying to make you jealous.”

“Clearly, it worked,” he remarked dryly. “From now on, no more grand romantic gestures. I mean communication is a big part of a relationship, right?”

You took his outstretched hand and let him bring you closer. The word ‘relationship’ made your heart do a little somersault and you nodded vehemently, pleased with his initiative.

“I’ll start,” he said, then took a deep breath. “I don’t like Steve-”

“You don’t say,” you teased. Bucky glared at you and you mouthed an apology, gesturing for him to continue.

“But I’ll admit that he’s a good guy and he means a lot to you. I will try to be civil, but I can’t promise anything,” he sighed. “Okay, your turn.”

“I acted like a brat and I’m sorry. I’m not better than you or Nat or Wanda. I think I signed the contract because I really wanted a different life, but then it became so real and it frightened me.”

Bucky lifted your head toward his and smiled sweetly. Your faces were so close that you could see a smattering of freckles across his nose. His lips brushed over yours... and then the door slammed open.

“I KNEW IT!” Wanda screamed, grabbing Nat’s arm.

“Don’t mind us.” Nat had a big smile on her face. “Pretend we’re not even here.”

“You guys are so cute,” Wanda squealed, her eyes sparkling.

Bucky pulled away from you, his jaw set tight. You ran a soothing hand down his metal arm and turned to the Furies. They were covered in blood, gigantic smiles on their faces... it was right out of a Stephen King novel.

“Whose blood is it?”

“Pierce’s,” Nat said.

“Is he dead?”

“He died twice,” Wanda grinned, sharing an amused look with Nat. “Now he’s passed out, it’s not fun to torture him if we can’t hear him scream.”

You shrugged, you couldn’t care less about Pierce. He killed you, tortured Bucky for years, murdered Nick Fury and Lord knows what else. Bucky cleared his throat noisily, hoping they'd get the hint and leave

“Wait,” you stopped them. “I know I haven’t been the nicest person, but... thank you for everything.”

“No worries, that’s what friends do, huh?” Nat chuckled when you gave her a bashful smile. “Friday nights are girls’ nights out. No boys allowed.”

“I’ll be there,” you promised, mirroring her smile.

Wanda made a funny noise, as though she was choking on her saliva, and clapped her hand excitedly. Once they were gone, Bucky breathed a sigh of relief and held out his arms.

“C’mere before someone else shows up uninvited.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he backed you against the door with his hands on your waist. You shivered at the seductive look he gave you, his lower lip trapped between his teeth. He kissed you hard and deep and when his tongue slipped into your mouth, you moaned shamelessly against his lips.

After a moment he leaned back and rested his forehead against yours. You breathed in sync, chests rising and falling against each other.

“Bucky?”

“Mhhm.”

“When I was dead, I was in the antechamber and I thought I’d have to spend all eternity trapped there. All these poor souls, wandering aimlessly, it was awful. Can you let them in?”

“Anything for you, my love.” He pressed his lips to yours again.

“Oh, one more thing,” you said, tapping his chest before he could deepen the kiss. “Now that you don’t need an army of heartless people to defeat Pierce-” you watched Bucky’s eyes widen, “-yes, Nick told me. You’re both completely crazy. I think it’s time to return the hearts. Honestly, it’s creeping me out.”

He dropped his forehead to your shoulder and exhaled slowly. “Fine,” he said, meeting your eyes. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“You can’t die, you’re immortal.” You laughed when he rolled his eyes.

Epilogue

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagines #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #redgillan #redgillanwrites #rotten judgement

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jewelslover · 7 years ago

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The Expectation

Oneshot | Full Series

Original Publish Date- 27 June, 2017

Summary:

It never seems to change. All the girl groups in today’s kpop industry are almost always performing either overly sexual or cringey ‘aegyo’ choreography routines for all their songs. I would like to say that I pride yourself on breaking that stereotype, but sadly, that isn’t the case.

Ever since me and my group 'Expectation' had gone viral, I have been pulled away from the type of dance I love, and have been mocked by those I admire most. I’m determined to break out of this dance stereotype, and return to what started my love to dance in the first place. My group members and some helpful idols will be there to help me do just that.

Pairing: Hoseok x Original Female Character(s)

Length: 7.9K words

Comedy, Angst

AO3

It never seems to change. All the girl groups in today’s kpop industry are almost always performing either overly sexual or cringey ‘aegyo’ choreography routines for all their songs. I would like to say that I pride myself on breaking that stereotype, but sadly, that isn’t the case.

I had been a trainee for three months before being placed into the new girl group ‘ Expectation’ . I wasn’t too keen on the style the group portrayed, but as long as I could dance in a way I loved, it didn’t bother me too much. I had the opportunity to help choreograph a lot of our debut numbers and was proud of what the group had collectively come up with. We were able to stay true to the dance style we liked and weren’t compacted into the generic girl group mold. That was, until we released our first full length album.

We had been together for about a year when our album ‘ VS ’ released and absolutely blew up. Our company was getting calls to have us on multiple different variety TV spotlights and music programs. We hadn’t even filmed our title song MVs or choreographed dance routines. Of course, we were elated and began preparation for performance immediately. We were deciding which songs deserved dance spotlights based on the fan response when the company hired him . He was a popular choreographer who had worked with big companies like SM, YG, and JYP Entertainment. Naturally, I had a lot of respect for his work but that didn’t mean I liked what he produced. He had played a major role in creating the dancing stereotype for girl groups. Don’t get me wrong, I was all about embracing your sexuality and being proud of it, but I had yet to see a girl group dance in a genuine hip hop style that didn’t highlight their feminine assets or cutesy charm.

Sure, girl groups recorded covers of current boy band routines and killed it, but would they be able to dance like that to one of their own songs? HEAVEN FORBID that a girl looked as masculine and strong as the boy groups! Expectation had been able to identify as that strong group when we were unknown, but ever since our group had come into the entertainment spotlight that had changed.

It had been month since our album released and I sat on my bed in the dorm room I shared with our maknae, watching the MV for our title song ‘Drift .’ I was honestly disgusted at what I was looking at, and no amount of positive fan response could change that. Our 5 member group was painted against a dark background, patting ourselves down and swiveling our hips. The choreographer that I previously mentioned had decided to follow the ‘sexual’ style of dance that was popular. Already, covers of the dance were popping up on youtube and it was grossly impressive how many people praised it.

I closed the laptop and pushed it back underneath my pillow. Rubbing at my head, I tried to smooth away my headache that had been developing for over an hour. I mentally went over my schedule for the day and looked at the alarm clock that rested on my shared dresser. The girls and I had another press interview three hours from now. That meant I should probably start getting ready to go. I rubbed my face one more time and groaned into my hands.“Soobin-unnie? Are you okay?”

The perky voice coming from the doorway snapped me out of my funk. I turned around and looked at the young girl with bright pink-dyed hair. She had headphones hanging around her neck and was still in her pajamas. The Gudetama-patterned PJ bottoms comically contrasted with her flawless hair and makeup. Lee Eun Ki, or ‘ E ’ as most of South Korea knew her, was the Maknae/main vocalist of Expectation and my roommate at the dorm. She was endlessly caring but you definitely didn’t want to get on her bad side. Just because she was the youngest didn’t mean she lacked attitude.

“I’m fine E. Just a little stressed about the interview later.” I smiled and tried to evade her skeptical gaze. Pawing the sheets below me, I waited out the pressuring stare until she finally made her way over to the side of the room that she took up.

“I don’t see any reason why you should be, Unnie. At this point, interviews should seem routine to you. It’s not like we haven’t been asked the questions they offer a hundred times before.” She grabbed a hoodie from the makeshift closet she had set up in a corner and pulled it on, careful to avoid the tight curls in her high-set pigtails. I loved the naive 17-year-old, but sometimes our recent fame went to her head and she acted like she had been born into this life- nothing fazed her. Although I had to remind her to be humble more than a few times a week, I admired her confidence.

I shrugged in response to her ‘reassurance’, if it could even be called that, and walked down the hall to see if the shower was free before we headed to group styling.

Two hours later, the four other members of Expectation and I were headed to the studio where the interview was being shot. The headache from earlier hadn’t let up, and the fact the my hair had been pulled and tugged until it was impossibly straight didn’t help. My natural hair was screaming at me because of the amount and heat and dye damage it had gone through recently, slowly killing it’s natural texture and color. The newest dye our producers had decided on was some strange shade of dark green that I was told ‘complimented my skin tone.’ Personally, I thought it looked like I had a bunch of rotten lettuce leaves slapped onto my scalp. I chose to wear a hat whenever possible… today was one of those days.

Now, please don’t think that I'm some kind of rotten brat who disliked her company and group. I honestly loved my company! We were small, but because of that everyone knew each other and a certain level of respect was shared throughout the trainees and employees. As for my group members, I had never bonded with anyone more than the four of them. I felt as if they really were my sisters. Our leader, ‘ IOU ’, had taken me under her wing immediately, despite me being older than her. For a 19 year old, she had an insane amount of wisdom. She was who I went to when I felt overwhelmed and frustrated.

Other than our maknae and leader, there were two other girls in the group who were the rappers. ‘ Genie ’ and ‘ Angel ’ were twins, and shared the title of the oldest girl in the group at age 24. They were a handful, but the group wouldn’t be complete without their antics. Even today, they had switched seats while we were getting hair and makeup done and almost got the wrong hair dye, the only way we could differentiate them. The stylist unnie wasn’t very happy when she found them out.

That left me, Kim Soo Bin or ‘XY’ , the ‘middle child’ and main dancer of Expectation . I was the last girl added to the five member group, just barely making the cut. I had procrastinated til the last minute on everything that was required. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, but rather because I cared too much. I wanted everything to be perfect, and waited until I had achieved the perfection I aimed for. It wasn’t a small deal that I had gotten in, considering I had only been a trainee for three months. None of my hometown neighbors would have ever expected me, a shy girl from Gwangju, to up and move to Seoul just to pursue her dream of dancing professionally.

“Yah! Soobin! You’re blocking the door.” I looked over and saw the twins eyeing me. That was the second time I had spaced out today. I needed to get my head back in the game. I slid across the leather seats and climbed out of the car, the twins following close behind me. Pulling my bucket hat lower over my eyes, I shuffled into the studio. We were greeted by an enthusiastic staff and shown into a large room with a bright set, surrounded by cameras and sound equipment. There was a table full of catering in the back that my eyes were immediately drawn to. Only then did I realize that I hadn’t eaten anything all day. I was about to make my way towards the table when one of the MC’s of the show came over to greet us. I suppressed a groan and plastered on a practiced smile as he talked to us. At one point in the conversation he looked directly at me and I was pulled back into reality as the man spoke.

“We have something planned on the show today that I think will excite you the most, XY. Look forward to it.” He winked at me and I laughed in response, shaking off the irked feeling the gesture had given me. We were then led over to the seating area of the set and I could almost see my stomach crying dramatically whilst reaching towards it’s lost love, the catering table. I frowned, and stored away my hunger for the end of the interview. We were seated in a ‘U’ formation on a group of pillows, which was a nice change compared to the metal bleachers or plastic chairs we were usually led to. I was adjusting my hoodie when my stylist stalked her way over to the pillows. When she reached us, she placed both manicured hands on her hips and looked at me like a stern mother.

“What have I said about the hats, XY? Hand it over.” She held out a hand and gestured for my cooperation. I frowned and tentatively touched the fabric on my head, as if guarding a scared child.

“Unnie, you know how much I hate my hair,” I begged, but she wasn’t going to give in to my usual pleas. She just shook her head, and I reluctantly took of my hat and let her fuss over my mussed hair, rearranging my bangs and such. Once satisfied, she stood up and surveyed her work before going off towards the rest of our small crew, resuming conversation with our vocal coach.

Soon enough, the interview was under way and the MCs were laughing at a story Genie was telling. However, ‘E’ didn’t think the embarrassing retelling of her misfortune with a hotel duvet was quite so funny and chose to vocalize it. “Yah! You said you wouldn’t tell anybody about that Genie-Unnie!” she whined.

The elder laughed, and nudged her shoulder into her twin. “That was Angel who said that, not me.” The maknae of the group looked at the girls in bewilderment and huffed, pouting her lip and hugging onto my arm as I was the closest form of comfort. I looked down at her, amused, when the MC’s words caught my attention. “So, XY-ssi, how caught up are you with the ever-popular boy bands.”

In all honesty, I didn’t tend to keep up with any popular groups. I listened to the groups I liked, and kept up with the viral MVs and songs I was required to know because of variety shows. The only ‘popular’ boy groups I listened to were MONSTA X, the occasional VIXX, NCT 127, and BTS. I had recently gotten into Bangtan Sonyeondan because of a song I hadn’t known during a variety show challenge. I gave it a listen when I had a down moment during a photoshoot and ended up listening to the whole album. They were definitely talented and the chemistry they had as a group was admirable. The weren’t too hard on the eyes either, but that wasn’t what caught my attention. Upon watching some of their MVs, I had become a fan of their dancing. They danced in a way I only wished I could, full of power and strength. Being a dancer myself, I could just imagine the work it required and the toll it took on them. The boy that went by J-Hope had caught my attention in particular. I wasn’t going ga-ga over him of course, I knew my position as an idol, but he was definitely an inspiration when I was choreographing anything new.

I looked back on the MC who had asked the question and shrugged my shoulders, “I know enough about boy groups I guess. Why do you ask?”

The man gave me a sly look and laughed, “Ah XY, always keeping up the tough girl act.” This earned a laugh from the crew in front of us and I looked at them with an uncomfortable smile. I didn’t think I was putting on an act, but I guess that’s how people perceived me. I looked back at the host and gestured for him to continue. He smiled and looked back at me. “As you might know, a very popular boy group was on our show recently. They expressed interest in your new song ‘Drift’, and two of the members even danced to it!” He and the other hosts laughed at the memory and I looked at them in confusion.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” I apologized with a polite smile, and looked at my sisters to see if they had any idea what the man was referring to. E let out a dramatic gasp and clasped both my shoulders, making me look at her with wide eyes.

“XY-Unnie! Don’t tell me you don’t know who BTS are!” she breathed dramatically, and I shook my head at her overreaction.

“Of course I know who they are! I’d have to be living under a rock if I didn’t.” I replied, still not catching on to what anyone was talking about.

IOU laughed at my cluelessness and laid a hand on my back. “Two members of BTS danced to our song three days ago. Have you not seen it on social media?”

I grinned sheepishly and looked back at the MCs. “I’m so sorry. The only thing I really use my phone for is music and angry birds. I’m not on social media much, as our fans probably know.”

The men across from us laughed and reassured me that it was okay. They were prepared in case I hadn’t seen it, and cued a video to play on a screen in front of us, next to the camera. I peered at the screen and watched as two of the members centered themselves on the set I currently sat in. BTS’s leader, Rap Monster, was behind the scene and sat back on the palms of his hands, an amused look on his face. The two boys in front I recognized as J-Hope and who I believed was the maknae, Jeon Jungkook. It wouldn’t have been much of a stretch to assume it was him since the youngest was well-known for his girl group renditions. I inwardly cringed when the song began, but kept an outward smile on my face as the boys danced. I even went as far as to fake a laugh when they exaggerated the move where we had swayed our hips and dropped to our knees, just to pop back up again. They strutted backwards flipping their nonexistent hair over their shoulder and walked back to the laughing boys behind them, humored smiles on their faces, offering up high fives and slaps on the back.

I clapped with the other girls beside me and commented on the video. “Wow. That was a pretty accurate recreation,” I painfully laughed, “I didn’t realize those sunbaes even knew we existed.”

The only female MC on the show smiled at me and shook her head. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. Everyone knows who you five are, even BTS.”

I half-bowed sitting on my cushion and smiled, giving my thanks to the MC’s and BTS as the hosts moved on to the next set of topics. From that moment, I shut myself off from the conversation and the other girls took over for me, knowing that our choreography for ‘Drift’ was a touchy subject. It was almost painful to see someone I admired so much for his skill, dance to that . I creased my eyebrows until IOU elbowed me, informing me that the interview was over and we were saying goodbye.

I stood up with the rest of the girls and bowed together, “Hana, Dul, Set! Gomabseubnida! We are… Expectation !” Everyone clapped and the cameraman signaled when he had cut the filming. After that, we all smiled and said our goodbyes individually to the crew. Once we had finished, I grabbed a couple cheese cubes from the catering table, and we all headed out to the van.

The girls gave me pitying glances once we were on the road, or most of them did anyway. E had decided on staring at me with sad eyes and a permanent pout. “Unnie… you okay?” she asked. I just looked out the tinted windows and grunted in response. “I’ll take that as a no.”

A week later, we were scheduled to be on a variety show with a bunch of other idol groups. The hype surrounding ‘Drift’ had somewhat faded, but the hype around the BTS video had not. J-Hope and Jungkook were trending on twitter, and Expectation was getting thousands of twitter mentions everyday. I stayed off of social media whenever I could. I could barely look up a recipe for brownies without seeing the video.

I sat in a padded chair in front of a vanity mirror as the stylist attached hair extensions to my roots. The manager walked in as she started teasing the curls of the green hair into a high ponytail.

“Okay girls! We’ve just gotten word of the other idol groups that will be on the show today!” He called above the din of getting ready. The other girls turned around in their chairs but I kept still, not wanting to get burned by the hot curling iron near my ear. The manager started by listing off three names of various girl groups that I vaguely recognized and then stopped.

“Are there no male groups? I thought this show was hosting multiple artists, sir.” IOU asked, spinning repetitively in her chair. The manager shook his head and told us that he had only announced the girl groups attending. In total there were going to be four girl groups and four boy groups attending the show. There were going to be a variety of games played and a couple trivia questions, nothing out of the ordinary. Probably some activities to stimulate ships between two groups would happen, so we had to be careful to avoid those situations. The boy groups that would be attending were GOT7, a new debut group called A.C.E, WINNER, and…

“We’re going to be on a show with BTS!” E shouted. She bounced up and down in her chair and had a big grin on her face.

“Great…” I mumbled under my breath, “Just fantastic.”

“What was that Soobin?” our manager asked.

“Oh nothing, sir. I’m just… excited.” I feigned a smile and Angel grasped my shoulder, smiling with an understanding look in her eye. Our manager nodded, and headed out to let us continue getting ready. The stylist doing my hair secured it with a few bobby pins, and then moved me onto makeup before I changed into the shorts and belted sweater I was assigned to wear- an ironic combo since the items of clothing were for two totally different climates.

Finally ready after an hour more of preparation, we were headed to a studio once again. I leant my head against the cool glass of the van’s window, blocking out the chatter of my group mates with earbuds. I was going to have to come to terms with meeting the boy group eventually, so I might as well woman up and be mature about it in the car before I was forced into the same room as them. We drove into a lot behind a large building and parked behind a group of other vans similar to ours. We all got out of the vehicle and walked into a large room with a white backdrop. The room was loud with chatter from all the various groups- a lot of them looked like old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while.

The girls and I stood off awkwardly to the side. While we were used to private interviews, this kind of environment was entirely foreign to us. My eyes scanned the room of idols until they landed on a group of fourteen boys, half of which were members of GOT7, and the other half BTS. I was searching through the sea of different colored hair until my line of sight was blocked by a blonde girl walking in front of me, suddenly embracing me in a hug.

I was taken aback until she pulled away and grinned at me. “Lisa!” I exclaimed in surprise. The member of BLACKPINK let go of me and the rest of the members of the popular girl group joined her soon after. While we had never met each other's group as a whole, we all had often been individually paired with the members of BLACKPINK for different kpop publicity stunts. Lisa and I had been put together multiple times before and had slowly grown into good friends. I smiled at the younger girl, and observed the rest of her bandmates. Rose, Jennie, and Jisoo were standing behind Lisa and chatting with my bandmates. It looked like respectively, the twins, E, and IOU each had been partnered with one member of BLACKPINK each. I let out a sigh of relief, at least we knew one group here.

“XY-Unnie! How have you been? I haven’t seen you since the last award show! I had no idea Expectation was scheduled to be here.” The girl was beaming and held my hands in hers. I laughed at her excitement and shook my head.

“Same here. Our manager didn’t mention BLACKPINK in the name of girl groups assigned.”

She nodded in understanding. “I can explain that one. The whole thing was kinda last minute. It turns out that GFriend couldn’t make it due to a scheduling error, and whatever the other thing was they had to do- well, it took priority over a variety show. As for BLACKPINK, we’re doing nothing but promotion for “As If It’s Your Last”, so this was just an opportunity for more publicity. Besides, we have a lot of friends here today. Oh! Speaking of which-” Lisa stopped mid-sentence and scanned the crowd of idol groups taking up the room. She squinted, trying to catch their faces, before apparently finding who she was looking for and pulling me along behind her. “There they are! I don’t think you’ve met that many boy groups have you?”

“Well, no. We haven’t really been-” I was cut off by Lisa, talking a mile-a-minute.

"You probably haven’t met GOT7 yet, or BTS for that matter. We’re quite close with both groups. Let me introduce you!”

“Lisa, I really don’t think that’s necessary-”

“BamBam-ah! Over here!” She called to one of the younger boys in GOT7, and waved her hand at the two groups mixed with one another. They all turned around at her call and I shrunk behind the girl in front of me.

“Lisa-ssi? Hey!” The boy looked confused for a moment before he recognized his friend, and then came over to greet her. He gave her a friendly hug before he noticed me, awkwardly standing next to the two embracing friends; Lisa hadn’t let go of my hand. “Who-? Oh! XY-Noona! It’s so nice to meet you!” The boy came out of the embrace and bowed to me with a kind smile. I smiled back and waved away the respectful gesture, not wanting to draw any attention.

“XY-Unnie hasn’t really met any of the male groups yet, and I wanted to introduce her to the other GOT7 boys and BTS!” Lisa smiled at him, and he nodded, letting her know that both groups had hoped to eventually meet Expectation today. The two idols led me over to the group of boys and I smiled uncomfortably as the leaders of both groups, JB and Rap Monster, came up to greet me. They both introduced themselves, and I bowed in respect.

“It’s nice to meet you both, and your groups as well.” I said, recognizing the boys behind them as well. “IOU is over with Rose`-Unnie, if you wanted to greet a fellow leader and such.” The two older boys laughed and thanked me before heading over to my IOU, probably only because I suggested it if nothing else. I smiled at the other boys once their leaders had left the group, careful to avoid the curious gazes of the Bangtan Boys and navigating my attention towards GOT7. It wasn’t because I knew more about GOT7 as a group, in fact, I barely knew anything about them aside from a few of their songs and vaguely remembering their stage names. I just really didn’t want to face the other group right now even though it was kind of immature of me, especially considering the pep talk I had given myself on the ride over here. Lisa and I talked with them for a while before the director of the show announced that we were starting soon, and everyone was called to the set to start getting in position.

Expectation was placed in front of BLACKPINK on the girl’s side of the set, and next to another popular girl group consisting of nine members, TWICE. I took roll of the groups that were here today and all things considered, we were with some pretty big names in Kpop. Out of all of them, surely, Expectation was least known.

Once we started filming, all the bands briefly introduced themselves before we continued on. Just like our manager had said, we were pegged against each other in popular games and answered live questions/took suggestions from fans watching the show at home. Surprisingly, Expectation was getting a lot of requests from our fan base the “EX’s”, second only to the BTS ARMY. It was encouraging to see the support our group was getting until a certain suggestion from both ARMY’s and ‘ EX’s ’ started to come in. They were asking that one member from Expectation and BTS have a dance off to the other’s popular songs because of the viral video J-Hope and Jungkook had danced in. Unfortunately, J-Hope and I were the most popular suggestions for this absurd challenge.

The MC of the show however, thought it was a great suggestion and took the bait. I was forced to take center stage with the older boy and we were told the songs we were going to dance to. The member of BTS got Expectation ’s Drift as expected, and I happened to get the intro of their most recent album “Wings”, a song that J-Hope had choreographed himself. It was challenging to say the least, and even ‘challenging’ didn’t properly explain how hard the choreography was to pull off. The only other member in BTS who had seemed to mock it had been Jimin during a performance where the two had danced side by side on opposite ends of a stage. Luckily, I had watched the practice video of him on their channel enough times to understand the basics of the dance.

We got into position and one of the MC’s explained how the video of the two boys had gone viral, which everyone acknowledged, and went on to say that since J-Hope already knew the choreography to Drift, that I was allowed to watch the Boy Meets Evil video if I wanted a refresher. I bitter-sweetly let them know that I’d be just fine without it, which earned some “oh”’s from the idols surrounding us. The MC nodded, a bit taken aback by my answer, and told J-Hope that he was to go first. I moved aside as the boy took his place. The chorus of Drift began and J-Hope listened for the part in the music that he had previously danced to. When it started, he copied our moves almost exactly with a little more exaggeration for a comedic factor. He ran both hands over his front thighs as he dipped to the ground, and rolled his head back. Pulling his hands from his thighs he ran them both through his hair to the back of his head before tipping his head back up and jumping up into an upright position. That got a reaction from some of the idols and I tried to discreetly block them from my line of sight. He then cycled his palms once on either side of him and bowed forward into the rotation, before pulling back up with the push of his right hand to the left. He then grasped his left wrist with his right hand and swiveled them both towards his right hip, palms down, popping out his left leg to the side. He then spun on the balls of his feet to switch which leg was popped out and flipped his palms, bringing the attached arms above his right shoulder. He then pushed his right arm away from his left, and popped it into the space above his right shoulder before bringing down both hands to rest on his hips. I smirked at the move I had ‘laughed’ at before in the interview where I was originally introduced to viral video. He swayed his hips, gradually lowering himself onto his knees, spreading them a bit before throwing a flirty look at the camera. A few of the girls from TWICE and whatever group was behind them gasped and went as far to cover their eyes until J-Hope popped back up to strut backwards towards the rear of the set. The music cued off and the other idols starting laughing and whistling catcalls.

I inwardly rolled my eyes but gave the male idol a smile. He started walking back towards me with a wide smile on his face and extended his hand, as if he was going to shake mine and wish me good luck. I feigned as if I was going to accept it, but slipped out from underneath his hand and instead patted him on the back with a “better luck next time.” His eyes widened at my comment and a small frown formed, while the other idols on the stage muttered a combined “oooh~” as I took the center of the set. I hadn’t intended to be rude to him, after all, he hadn’t done anything wrong. But the audience wanted a dance off, and that’s exactly what I was going to give them.

J-Hope stood off to the side, a slight frown on his face and arms crossed, as I knelt down on the floor on both knees and lowered my head, waiting for the music to start. The first note began and I decided then to put the embarrassment and emotions I felt towards the choreography of ‘Drift’ into this choreography.

I raised my head a bit each time one of the first four staccato notes struck and then rolled my head back to the right on the prolonged note after them, slowly raising my hands in front of my face on the second prolonged note. I sent a spasm through them before closing them into fists at the beginning of the second measure. On the second occurrence of the staccato notes I pushed my right hand forward on the ground for two beats and then repeated the move with my left hand. I pushed myself out of my kneeling position by my fingertips, straightening my back and rolling my shoulders back, while shifting my right side towards the camera. I stayed that way for a moment, gazing at the camera with a calm look, lips slightly parted, before I shifted my expression into a glare and punched the air above me with my right fist on each of the rapid beats in the song.

From then on I began the sharp, crisp movements that followed in the choreography putting as much emotion into my facial expressions as with each stomp of my foot. I put firm movements into each arm sweep and leg arc, focusing on keeping the moves smooth and connected, not jerky and disjointed as a dance like this could easily become. I finally reached the part within the chorus that I had been anticipating and and leapt high into the air, my arms dropping with me in front of my torso. I took a firm step forward with my right foot, popping my torso to the deep bass of the song, my arms out to the side. I then hopped back, moving my arms behind my neck and forcing my head down, kicking forward with my left foot. I then swept my right foot back in front of my left and pushed my arms out to the corners of the ceiling, following my right hand with my head. Bringing my hands together in front of my chest, I hopped and spread my legs apart, landing with bent my knees. I swept my arms down to my right hip in a combined fist and kicked my left leg behind my right as I stepped to the left, once again ending up with both legs bent and spread to the side, and my hands atop my head. I swept them behind my crown, flipping my neck to the right, then raised them as I tilted my head to the left so I brought them back down on the right side of my head.

I moved my left hand over the right of my chest and extended my right hand up and out to the side, before quickly retrieving it back with my left hand by the wrist, and carrying it down to my left hip, following the left movement with my right foot. Now for the difficult part, I unclasped my hands, tilting my head to the right as I swung my right arm under the knee of my right leg when I kicked it high to the side, successfully holding it in between my left and right arm for a second before swinging it back down to the ground. I resisted smiling and kept the suave expression on my face as the group behind me cheered and some of the boy idols chided J-Hope.

I kept my right arm at the same height across my chest, and positioned it parallel to my right arm that was above my head, before smoothly tilting at my elbow and grabbing my left arm’s wrist with my left hand, bringing them both to the right of my head. I let go and pushed to the front with my left hand letting the momentum carry it back as I ‘unsteadily’ walked to the right, then I pushed against the air on the right and ‘unsteadily’ walked back to the left. I brought my hands up to my head and chin and twisted my head so it was tilted to the right, and then twisted it back to normal. I brought both hands to the back of my head pushing it forward and down with my fingertips and stood back up, raising my arms above my head and stretching up towards them.

I swung my arms and hands back down behind my back, my palms facing up, before raising my right hand and following it with my gaze. I took a deep breath, and then scooped my torso down and around towards the left , kicking off the ground and spinning into the air. Halfway into the spin, the bobby pins securing my hair came loose and my hair fell into my face in a mess. The girls behind me all gasped and the boys whooped when I landed with my right leg, and pivoted, swinging my body back to face towards the camera. I held my arms out to the side and popped my body once I had secured both feet on the ground. I moved to the right through a series of kicks and the pushing of my body against itself, till I dramatically shifted my weight onto my right leg and swept my head around to look in that direction. I stayed still for a moment before I brought my left hand up to my head and threaded my fingers through my my loose hair, while I body rolled to the smooth moment in the music. I popped back up putting my right hand down to my side and my left hand up above my head in a diagonal before spinning on my heels, to face the back. I dropped my weight, with the support of my knees, and swung my left hand back to support my weight, keeping my right arm outstretched, before I switched them and rotated back on it to face the front, bent at the waist and pushed myself up, bringing my right arm above my left and jerkily bringing my hands together, with the jagged notes. I stepped forward, once with each foot, smooth bringing a hand over my mouth and biting my lip.

I focused on steady breathing as I went through the set of moves before I faced the left of the room. I kicked my right leg out in front of me and dropped at the knee, catching my weight with my right palm. I used my free left hand to bend the still outstretched right leg, and then pushed off in a one-handed backflip, bouncing onto the balls of my feet and spinning back to face the front, clasping my hands together on the beat. I kept going through the routine as the group behind me exploded, clapping and cheering as I made my way backwards in a series of moves before I somersaulted backwards and brushed my shoulder up against J-Hope’s with a smile on my face. I slowly dropped to my knees as the music ended and stayed there breathing heavy until the room was silent. There was a moment, where all I could hear was my breathing, before the girls of my group noisily got up off their seats and crowded around me, asking ‘where all that had come from’ and ‘why I had never danced like that before’. I was laughing before I saw a hand offered, and looked up to see its owner. J-Hope stood in front of me, with his arm outstretched and I gladly took it as he helped me up off of my knees.

He nodded towards me approvingly before saying, “You might’ve danced to that song better than I ever have.”

I looked at him nervously and at his solemn expression, before he broke into a large smile and laughed. “That was seriously awesome! The emotion you put into that was insane! I think we have a clear winner!”

My eyes widened at his positive comments and I stuttered out a thank you before the girls of Expectation pulled me back into the huddle, successfully squeezing all sign of life out of my body with hugs. After being significantly smothered, I was let go, and the MC took hold of my arm with one hand and J-Hope’s arm with the other. “I think it’s clear who our winner is today! XY from Expectation ! The live commenters are going ballistic!” I grinned sheepishly under his praise and ran my free hand through my loose hair, attempting to push it out of my face.

“Now tell me XY, why are you dancing to dances like Drift , when you can dance like that with absolutely no preparation.”

The smile dropped from my face and I shook my arm out of his grasp, not believing what he had just said. “E-Excuse me? What do you been dances ‘like Drift’ ?”

“Well, obviously Drift is not as much of a feat compared to the dance you just did. I mean let’s be honest, it was a girl group dance.” He laughed and the room went silent.

I held my breath at what he had just said, and could feel the tension in the bleachers behind me rise as all the other girl groups stared at this man. He had just insulted all the girls in this room, as well as the choreographers of those ‘girl group’ songs. I laughed and shook my head at him. “Ahjussi, if you are implying that girl groups work any harder than a male group then you are tragically mistaken. Just because they dance with what looks like more power than what we portray, does not mean that they’re somehow better than us when it comes to the technicalities of dancing. Every one of these idols, whether male or female, has different skill levels when it comes to this stuff, but the amount of work and difficulty level we put into our separate dances is just the same.”

The boys across from me were nodding in agreement, as were the girls behind me. “Frankly, what you just said offended multiple people of both sexes and was said without much perspective. It doesn’t matter what gender you are, or what body type you have. If you want to dance, then by all means do it. Screw what difficulty level it is. If you practice and work hard enough, you can work up to do whatever kind of dance you want to. Girl’s can dance with just as much power as boy’s can, but we’re never given the chance! Personally, I think it’s unfair and complete bull, but thank you for your opinion… sir.” I bowed to him and went back to sit with my group.

After my little ‘episode’, as the staff of the studio called my little spiel about gender stereotyping within kpop, the MC had ignored the online comments and the show had gone on without another hitch. After we had gone off-air and thanked the staff and crew, I was swarmed my people I had never met before and was pressured by questions being asked all around me. I tried to answer as many as I could, but just ended up being a stuttering mess in a crowd of people, which made me start to feel anxious. I was just about to the point where I thought I should try and sneak out of the mass of people, when a hand grabbed my shoulder and the people backed off.

“Come on guys, is that any way to treat her? Give the girl some space.” A voice called behind me. I turned around and saw J-Hope’s face a few inches above mine and didn’t try to keep the confusion off my face. He looked down at me and smiled comfortingly. “Basically they’re all saying that what you said what super courageous and bold. You said things that a lot of us couldn’t because of an image or standard we had to live up to.”

The group around me nodded and started to disperse and go to their appointed groups getting ready to leave, the occasional person patting me on the back or giving me a thumbs up. I turned back towards J-Hope when he let go of my shoulder and thanked him. “I don’t usually get anxious, but I didn’t really know how to answer them all at once. Thanks for that Oppa.” I said, punching his arm in a friendly manner. He smiled and brushed the thanks aside, insisting it was nothing. Then, remembering something I had said earlier, I looked back up at him in alarm. “Oh! Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! What I said earlier about having ‘better luck next time’, I swear I didn’t mean it! I honestly admire your dancing so much and I was trying to give the viewers the wanted drama and-!”

“Wow wow wow. Slow down. It’s okay, I understand.” He laughed again, but this time it sounded more genuine than the polite ones before. His laugh was honestly kinda weird and wheezy sounding. It made me smile though, and I giggled along with him, realizing that I had gone off on a rant. He continued to say, “What you did earlier was really impressive. That’s not an easy dance, I should know.”

“Yeah, I could tell the first time I watched you do it. I was honestly confused how you pulled it off so fluently. A dance of that caliber can become jerky really easily. Plus, the one handed flip takes a lot of core strength, not that BTS has any problem with that.” I laughed, but quickly cut it off and cleared my throat when he looked at me confused. “Core strength.. It’s a joke because of the debut video with the, the shirt lift. Bulletproof pt2 with the, I mean just, I- I’m just gonna stop talking now…” I sighed and let my head bow. It took him a hot minute but once he understood he started laughing again with that wheezy laugh.

He took a bit to recover from laughing but nodded and replied, “Yeah. Uh, yeah it does. It takes core strength I mean. You executed it well though. Huge props to you.” He smiled and IOU called for me over his shoulder. I looked at her and motioned that I had to go before he turned his head towards her call and nodded in understanding. “Oh yeah, of course. I’ll let you go, but hey, can… oh gosh this is gonna sound so fake. I swear i’m not hitting on you when I say this, but I was wondering if I could get your number… for practice reasons only I swear! I thought you might wanna dance together sometime?”

I gave him a wary look, sizing up his words. If he ended up being a creep that I could always just block his number, so I shrugged and dug my phone out of my pocket, reciting the number to him as he took it down in his contacts. We said goodbye, and I ran over to the girls who were walking out of the building towards the van. After saying goodbye to Lisa and some of the GOT7 boys, we all piled into the vehicle and started down the road and back towards the dorms. Once we were about five minutes away, my shorts pocket buzzed and I pulled out my phone to see the notification. It was from an unknown number and I laughed at it’s context.

In the little notification bubble on my home screen it read:

“ Testing. Testing. This is a test to see if XY gave me a fake number. Testing. ”

I shook my head and shot back a quick reply:

“ You’re so weird.”

I was just going to leave if at that, when I took the bait and replied again:

“ Testing. Testing. It has been confirmed that this is XY’s real number. Testing. ”

I smiled down at the phone, and stuffed it back in my pocket and watched the scenery of Seoul pass by the window. I had a feeling that having J-Hope as a dance partner was going to be quite the experience. But hey, who was complaining? I was going to dance in a way I loved.

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