#she’s a lot more complicated than she seems at first | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dallaji · 6 months

Text

Hope we make it to the Cloud.

♡ bada lee x idol!reader / NSFW❗

SUMMARY: Amidst an identity crisis, you try to adequately prepare for your solo comeback. The lyrics have already been perfected, the song recorded and the visuals pinpointed. However, your creative team is not fully convinced by the choreography you came up with. They decide to send over one Bada Lee to help you finetune your jumbled ideas and bring harmony to your vision. You just have one specific request: the routine must include a trampoline.

WORD COUNT: 10k

CW: eventual smut, bada is 100% a giver and not a receiver in this jsyk (but i promise it makes sense in context), hinted voyeurism.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was meant to be pure smut but it became much longer than i intended ... oops for that . . . lets just roll with it!!1 also the choreo described is heavily inspired by tinashes bouncin.

- you don't care about those 7k words worth of boring build up? skip to this line: <After ten minutes of complete silence, Bada was the one to speak in a hushed voice: “What happened?”>

————— ୨୧ —————

The first thing you notice is how surprisingly gentle her voice is.

“I’m Bada, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Bada Lee stood tall in front of you, clad in an oversized jersey, cargo pants and a cap hugging her forehead in such a way her eyes were entirely obscured from your view. She promptly bowed after she spoke. Unsure where to look, you dropped your gaze and followed suit; vaguely aware of her seniority and bowing deeper.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” You tried to keep your own voice as neutral as possible, but agitation bubbled in your chest as you felt your manager’s prodding, eager eyes behind you. “Thanks for being here.”

Your team was much more excited about this collaboration than you were.

None of the aggravation you felt was Bada’s fault. It had been three weeks of your creative team dismissing every choreo draft you came up with: Three weeks of sleepless nights at the dance studio, tiring out yourself and your background dancers. Three weeks of browsing through videos sent in by other choreographers across the country, attempting to mix bits and pieces together but none of it ever feeling right. Three weeks filled with reminders of a deadline looming over your head. Three weeks of your team letting you know they had little confidence in this comeback. Your last attempt at showing them what you had come up with had ended up in a shouting match. Your manager, who you otherwise got along with just fine, bluntly stated that, perhaps, this concept simply wasn’t something you could pull off.

It had left you feeling betrayed. Your creative team had agreed it was time for you to approach a more mature concept, something that you felt was years overdue. But it seemed their definition of mature and yours were wildly different. You had worked hard on perfecting a set of songs to choose from, but you immediately butted heads with the rest of the team. You wanted to do the bouncy and playful R&B track. Your team wanted the EDM track. Eventually they relented, but now seemed hellbent on making it as difficult as possible for your vision to come to fruition. Putting together the visual board for the concept photos and the eventual music video was a similarly arduous process. You had to meet in the middle and sacrifice a lot of your initial ideas, but that procedure was almost pleasant compared to what you were dealing with in regards to the choreography.

Every idea you put forward was promptly shut down. Too complicated. Too boring. No TikTok challenge potential. Too sexy.

And maybe it was true. Your formations weren’t as clean as the ones thought up by a professional choreographer, but you weren’t really given a chance at all. It wasn’t like you were a bad dancer either. Far from it. You picked up choreos incredibly fast and had always played an active part in brainstorming past routines alongside your background dancers. You had more experience than most of your peers, yet you were treated as if you were still the same teenaged trainee from years ago.

“Is that really how you all feel?” You had whispered after your manager dropped that bombshell, searching for an answer in the facial expressions of your creative team. Most of them were not even willing to meet your eyes. “We just need to be realistic.” Your manager stated matter-of-factly. “That other song is still an opt—” “I am not changing the song.” You cut him off. Momentarily, your manager looked like a fish on dry land, gasping for air. “Sorry.” You added quickly, albeit a bit flustered. “Look,” He sighed, “We can do mature without shocking the nation. Let's keep it mild for now and maybe after two or three more singles, you can go all out.” “I haven’t been 18 in years, you know.” You retorted bitterly. Something inside you understood where he was coming from, but you had been obedient since your debut- how much longer should you wait? You didn’t want to sacrifice any more of your creativity, so many years into your career. You had even seen one of your own concepts go to a labelmate instead, your own team dubbing you too “youthful” to pull it off. “Okay, how about this,” He began with a frown, “Let us pick one of the choreographers’ drafts for you. You can finetune it with their guidance.”

Their pick had been Bada. You hadn’t even realized she sent in a draft: at one point you were so overwhelmed you just stopped checking your emails. You also hadn’t bothered to watch it before this meeting. You were genuinely too deep in your feelings about that whole ordeal for that. However, now that she was standing in the studio, tall height towering over you, you couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious.

You had seen Bada around.

After all, she had worked with many of your labelmates before. You had also watched a fair amount of her videos. She was one of the best in the business, and whenever you had downtime to practice freely you scrolled through her routines on Youtube to help stay in shape. As you were facing her, even with half her face hidden, you understood why everyone was so stricken with her. When she had walked into the room she oozed with authority, though not in an obnoxious way.

“Great!” Your manager clapped his hands, effectively breaking your train of thought. “Thank you so much for supporting us, Bada. Shall we jump right in?”

“Sure,” She nodded eagerly, hands wringing together as her body turned towards you. “I kind of wanted to see what you had in mind for this choreo.”

That surprised you, and you were certain your facial expression wasn’t hiding it. Your manager held his breath. “Oh! Well—” You chewed on your lip as you vaguely motioned the corner of the room, trying to find the words. “I wanted to use… I wanted to use a trampoline.”

Bada immediately turned her head to follow your gestures, her eyes landing on the mini trampoline set up in the studio. “A trampoline?” In the background, your manager heaved a sigh.

You purposely ignored him and nodded, slowly: “I can show you, if you want.” You had hoped that sounded more self-assured to her than it did to you.

Bada scratched her chin, still looking off to the trampoline, and then nodded along with you. “I’d love to see it.”

You felt the tension in your chest ebb away. There was no malice to her tone; she seemed genuinely curious.

Then, Bada turned her head towards your manager, her ponytail falling off her shoulder. “I hope I'm not imposing but, I would like this to be a collaborative effort between the two of us. I think it would take the pressure off if you…?” She trailed off with a kind smile, one impossible to say no to.

As if he got doused with cold water, your manager stood up with an urgency. “Privacy! I can give you two some privacy, no problem!” He fussed around, gathering his things. “Just let me know when we can sit in on the finished product.”

The both of you bowed to him as you bid your farewells, watching him leave the studio with a wave. Once the door shut behind him, you could feel yourself exhale in relief. You knew that if your manager was going to sit in on every practice, he would go out of his way to shut down all of your ideas. Without him around, you had more opportunity to champion your vision- at least, you hoped so.

You craned your neck, looking up at the ceiling, before letting your eyes fall shut with a sigh, almost forgetting there was another person in the room.

“They’ve been on your case, huh?”

Bada's soft but clear voice broke you out of your spell, and you turned your head to search for a glimpse of eye contact. Tough luck, as her hat was still in place casting a shadow down her face. There was, however, a knowing smirk playing across her features.

“You have no idea.” You muttered honestly. Bada laughed.

“I don’t want to make you dance a routine you don’t fully stand behind. I did mean it when I said I want this to be a collaborative effort.” Bada spoke carefully, but sincerely, her fingers once again intertwining. “I always wanted to work with you, so it’s an honor.” She added.

If you got a penny for every time you were caught off guard today, you could set some humble savings aside for an early retirement.

It is true that you’ve been sought after, but it wasn’t something you had ever internalized. Hearing it come from someone who herself was heavily sought after, made your face heat up.

“T- thank you. It’s an honor to work with you too.”

She bowed her head humbly, glancing over to the corner of the studio again where the trampoline sat, waiting. “Do you feel comfortable showing me what you have been working on?”

You nodded and rushed to the corner to set up your speaker, and then dragged the trampoline to the center of the room. You were oddly aware of your own presence, and almost felt the urge to make yourself smaller as you moved around. In the meantime, Bada was getting comfortable: she had dropped her things on a nearby table and left out a bottle of water. To her it must be a regular working day, but to you this felt scarier than getting up on stage.

Once you stood behind the trampoline, facing the wide stretched mirror filling up one side of the room, you stole a glance at the choreographer who was now crouched on the floor. She had pulled out a small camera and was setting it up on the edge of the table, making sure the lens was focused on your position. Long fingers fiddled with the buttons, and her tongue was prodding the hollow of her cheek. The angle allowed you to finally catch a glimpse of her eyes.

As if on cue, she glanced up at you. Your eyes met in the reflection of the mirror and your heart raced.

She gave you a soft smile and moved to sit cross-legged on the floor, the camera now fully set up. “I usually record everything, so we can watch it back and give feedback.”

Right, of course.

“Yeah, that’s usually how we operate as well.” You spoke timidly, and it was true. Yet something about having her attention on you felt more intimate. Usually there was at least one other person from your creative team looking on as well.

Trying to come across casual, you tied your hair up in a high ponytail. “What do you think of the song?” You asked curiously.

It was now Bada’s turn to be caught off guard. Her smile faltered and she broke the eye contact you had been sharing, clasping her hands together as she spoke. “I like it.” She began. “A lot, actually. It’s why I wanted to play a part in it. There isn’t anyone doing a song like this nowadays.”

Even though her body language was confusing, you couldn’t find any dishonesty in her voice. What she said made you feel relieved, some of your insecurity fading to the background. It’s why I wanted to play a part in it.

You sent a smile her way even though you weren’t sure she was even looking at you.

Proving you wrong, she smiled back.

“Alright, so,” You gestured to the trampoline at your feet. “The idea is, the other dancers and I all do the same routine. I'll be front and center. Four or six other dancers dance behind me, with their own trampoline.” You gave the trampoline a light shove with your foot, making sure it would stay in place, and then grabbed your phone. “Then you have an idea.”

You looked over your shoulder at Bada and gave her an inquisitive thumbs up. “Ready?” You asked.

Bada pressed a button on the camera and mimicked your thumbs up with a smile. “Ready when you are.”

You faced the mirror again and shook your shoulders a bit, forcing your body to loosen up. After twisting your neck a few times, you hit play on your phone, quickly placing it under the trampoline as the familiar synths of the song started blaring from the speakers. You tried to feel the confidence you were usually able to conjure up on stage, closing your eyes and swaying your hips, ponytail moving from side to side.

As soon as you heard your own voice through the speakers, instrumentals going deeper, you got into position. Your eyes opened up to focus on your own reflection in the mirror as if it was a fan in the crowd watching. Mouthing along to the lyrics, a playful smile on your lips, you hit every move as you had envisioned. Once the chorus came up, you dropped to your knees on the trampoline, grappling the edge as you performed the routine. Pushing back against the springs gave you the velocity to keep your moves fluid, your body twisting and turning, flipping over and hitting the next move. You made sure to move your hips deftly, aware that you had enough curves to allow you to pull it off, and kept your facial expressions in line. It had to look effortless.

You felt your ponytail swing along with your movements as if it were an extension of you, and sat up on the trampoline. The chorus came to an end and you used your arm strength to twist yourself around fast enough, gracefully falling back on your chest whilst keeping your toes en pointe in your sneakers. The tips of your fingers were touching the floor as your legs crossed, moving to rest your elbow on the edge of the trampoline and resting your chin atop your palm. You lip synced to the final words of the chorus, gaze alluring as you finished the move, and the music stopped.

You slowly sat up straight on the trampoline, crossing your legs, and slid your hand underneath to hit pause on your phone. You looked towards Bada expectantly, but the question got stuck in your throat. She was staring at you, mouth slightly agape, with an unreadable expression. For a split second you were reminded of your trainee days, when you had just finished a routine and were met by your choreographers’ stern faces; they wouldn’t spare you a single compliment, and instead listed off every mistake you had made.

But then, Bada blinked once and then twice, as if in a daze, and let out a soft “woah”. She started applauding you, shaking her head in bafflement. You felt your shoulders drop in relief.

“That was incredible!” The choreographer took off her cap, fixing her bangs before putting it back on. “You came up with this?”

You nodded slowly, the tips of your ears glowing hot. “I used to be a gymnast.”

“I can tell—” Bada spoke bluntly, but then snapped her mouth shut as if she said something wrong. “I mean, that was really good. Every part of your body was in command. Your team didn’t like it?”

“They think it’s too much, compared to my usual routines.” You had the urge to go off on a tangent, but ultimately you didn’t know Bada well enough. Unfortunately, you were naturally quite expressive and the disapproving frown on your face was on clear display.

“Too much? I kind of wanted more, actually.” She laughed softly, looking down to where her legs were crossed. You felt your heart skip a beat and bowed your head in lieu of a thanks.

Subsequently, the bright green light of the camera caught your attention. It was still recording.

“Hey, I think the camera is still on.” You spoke before you realized, and hoped it didn’t sound accusatory.

“Huh? Oh!” Her expression was almost akin to a child being caught with a hand in a cookie jar, the way she swiped at the camera to turn it off. “Sorry. Good call.” She mumbled shyly, tucking it behind her.

You weren’t sure what to say next, still flustered at her lofty praises, but luckily Bada broke the momentary silence.

“I had an idea…” She began, her hand rubbing at her chin pensively. “I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to watch my draft yet?”

You shook your head abashedly. “No, sorry, I honestly didn’t get to it.”

“It’s fine.” Bada waved her hands dismissively. “Maybe instead of doing the trampoline routine in every chorus, we could only do it in the middle? Exactly as it is. I wouldn’t change anything. And then for the other two choruses, we could keep some key moves but keep it on the floor.”

You mulled it over for a second, glancing up at the ceiling contemplatively. Using the trampoline the whole way through was not an option, according to your team. They had felt you were toeing the line with ‘raunchy’ much too closely. Perhaps you could find middle ground this way, while still keeping the part of the routine you felt most proud of.

“Okay.” You agreed, nodding slowly. “We would need something special for the final chorus, then.”

“I had another idea for that, if you’re fine with it. Would you like to watch my draft with me?”

————— ୨୧ —————

Her draft was good. Really good, actually.

Bada and you were sitting on the floor next to each other, the taller girl holding her phone out in front of you as the draft played on the screen. You were sitting quite closely together, but not close enough to be touching, a conscious decision on your part. You were a bit too aware of her presence, something about her was heightening your senses in a variety of ways. It wasn’t even as if she was stern or unkind, she just had an aura that intimidated you. At least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

A blonde girl you didn’t recognize was dancing your parts. Six other dancers, one of them being Bada, were in formation behind her performing the choreography perfectly in sync as your song played in the background. While you should really be paying attention to the girl in the center, your eyes couldn’t leave Bada’s figure. In the video she was dressed in loose-fitting cargo pants, just like today, and a crop top. Once again she wore a cap covering half her face, and even a face mask, but her hair hung loose over her shoulders.

You were always impressed by the small movements she was able to squeeze in, emphasizing certain parts in ways the other dancers weren’t able to. However, it was the final chorus that had your hands turn clammy.

The final chorus was a duet formation. Bada, with a quiet confidence in her step, and the blonde girl moved towards each other in the center of the room. They were effectively dancing for each other, the blonde girl whipping her head back as Bada stared her down, swaying their hips together rhythmically. Their steps were coordinated in such a way they almost mirrored, Bada rolling her body one way and the blonde girl moving the other; but it still felt cohesive. It was an intimate choreo. There were a few split moments of hips grinding against crotches, but it never lasted long enough to be straight up inappropriate. Still, you couldn’t help but realize you would have to practice this routine with Bada as well, and you felt yourself getting hot under the collar.

The choreo ended with the blonde girl giving Bada a playful shove, and the taller girl backed away slowly, a saunter in her step, before moving off the screen along with the other background dancers. The video ended and Bada dropped her phone in her lap, not looking at you.

“That was good.” You were relieved your voice came out evenly, and Bada started nodding in her trademark way, hands clasped together. “The formations were really clean and— I loved the final chorus.” You blurted.

She smirked, head raising and meeting your eyes for the second time today. You were starting to feel eager, greedily watching.

“I’m glad to hear. We definitely need to finetune the first chorus, line it up with your routine and all that. I really don’t want to lose your input.”

“That sounds great, thank you.” You felt a surge of gratitude in your chest, and shot her a wide smile. “I’m looking forward to working on this together.”

Bada dropped her gaze again, worrying her lower lip. You felt miffed at the brusque interruption of your shared eye contact but didn't show it.

“I suggest we start with practices tomorrow, we will edit the first chorus as we go,” She whipped out her phone, looking at her calendar. “We should practice the duet together until you’ve got a handle on it, and then I can bring over some of my guys to prep for the actual performances. I know someone for my part. He’s worked with some of your labelmates before, I’m confident he’s right for the job.”

You couldn’t tell if you were anxious at the prospect of practicing such a choreo with Bada, or if you were disappointed that the eventual product wouldn’t be performed with her. It made sense, though. If your label was already worried your concept was too mature for the country, having two women perform such a choreography wouldn’t be received well at all.

“Great. Same time tomorrow, just the two of us again?”

“Same time tomorrow,” The third time she was willing to meet your eyes, and once again with a small smile playing across her features. “Just the two of us.”

————— ୨୧ —————

Working with Bada the past few days has been surprisingly easy.

On the first day, she brought some iced coffee for the both of you and presented it with an exaggeratedly deep bow, holding out the plastic takeout bag in front of her as if she was a lackey presenting you a treasure. You giggled, muttering an incredulous “thank you” as you took the bag from her hands. Through sips of coffee, the both of you fast forwarded through the recordings trying to piece the choreography together. You were able to bounce ideas off of her in a way you never felt comfortable enough doing with other choreographers. Bada was attentive, patient and, above all, eager.

On the second day, you wanted to repay your debt and entered the studio with a box of doughnuts. She let out a surprisingly girlish squeak when you laid the box on the table, and barreled over to grab one. That day she was wearing a beanie instead of a cap, something you inadvertently preferred as you could now lock eyes and take in her features. Sometimes you had the impression she was hellbent on looking anywhere except into your eyes, but you didn’t want to mull it over for too long; some people just had a different way of interacting. Everything else about her still left you with a warm feeling.

Sometimes you both took turns performing for each other. She would pull her beanie further down her head as she took the center of the studio, and each time something inside you would brace itself. You could only watch in awe: her movements were sharp and magnetic, her entire body language changing in the blink of an eye. While your attention should be on her footwork, you were instead hypnotized by the sway of her hips, greedily drinking her in. You chalked it up to her being such a captivating dancer.

However, little could explain how much you relished in her undivided attention. When it was your turn to copy the moves, you made sure to give it your all and put on a show. Without a hat obscuring her eyes, you could tell where her eyes were looking and it wasn’t always on your reflection in the mirror. You swore you could feel her gaze burning in your lower back, but you didn’t mind. It encouraged you to hit your moves a bit harder than you usually would.

“You’re a fast learner,” Bada said at the end of the day, drinking from her water bottle as you watched her throat bob. “Keep it up and you won’t need me anymore.”

You didn’t like the sound of that.

————— ୨୧ —————

By the fifth day, the both of you had started working through the details of the duet.

The familiar song sounded through the speakers, the room filled with the sound of your singing voice and the squeaking of your sneakers on the floor.

You were painfully aware of the way Bada closely danced behind you but you kept your eyes down, forcing yourself to keep track of your footwork. You bent over slightly at the start of the next line, your hips popping out and letting your hair whip to the side as you hummed along to the lyrics. In tandem, Bada moved her hips the opposite direction but gyrated closer to you, her hand coming up to tug her cap lower. You spared the mirror a glance for a split second, realizing Bada was much closer to you than you had realized, but you pushed the thought away.

You looked good together.

“Pause real quick.” She spoke suddenly, stepping away from you and bending over to stop the song. You immediately halted your movements at the command, trying to control the heaving of your chest and willing away the warmth of your cheeks.

She stood up again, meeting your eyes in the mirror before steadying herself behind you, body close to yours.

“You’re doing great, but,” A tentative hand slid to your hip, fingers curling over in a loose grip as she subtly urged it to move to one side. Both your eyes remained locked through the mirror. “I think we should move together in this part. Like this.” She repeated the motion, her grasp on your hip tightening ever so slightly before pulling you flush against her pelvis. Her hips rocked along with yours, and you could only follow.

She hummed close to your ear, and you felt her breathe along the side of your face. “Just like that.” Her voice was quiet, gentle even, though her stare was everything but that. It was intense.

In an attempt to sound casual you replied with an “okay”, but it came out softer than you had hoped for.

Her eyes dropped from the mirror, opting to look down at you directly, but you couldn’t find the confidence to return the favor. “You should do that thing again," she continued quietly, "Where you throw your hair back, but look at me when you do it.”

You repeated your steps, but this time both her hands came down to hold your hips in place. You turned your head as requested, your hair falling over your shoulder as your eyes finally met. Her gaze was intense but undecipherable; she hadn’t been looking at the mirror at all this time.

Bada was so close, unblinking and heady. The thought entered your mind before you fully realized: if you craned your neck you could kiss her. In a careful motion, you felt her hands slide up and down slowly, smoothing along the curve of your hips.

“Perfect.” She said, and it sounded so intimate you felt lightheaded. Usually she voiced her approval with an animated smile and a thumbs up, but she spoke to you as if she was scared you would set off running. “You got it. You want to try that again with music?”

You nodded slowly and her hands dropped from your hips, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. As she bent down to turn the song back on, you brought the back of your hand up to your cheek; checking if it was as warm as you felt. Then you ran your fingers through your ponytail, tightening the hair tie with a sharp tug in an attempt to snap yourself out of whatever daze you had fallen into.

It meant nothing. She had merely workshopped a move and there was no need to feel so nervous.

The final chorus of the song began thumping again and the both of you got into your starting positions. Bada’s presence was palpable behind you, but you tried to force your head back into performance-mode. You kept your moves sharp, lip synced as if the voice came directly from your own throat and smiled playfully at all the right lines.

As the instrumentals of the final chorus got louder, you twirled a finger around your ponytail, playing with the imaginary crowd in front of you. Bada pressed up against your back. Your hips moving in tandem just as the choreo required and you could no longer repress the urge to grind back against her. You saw Bada smirk in the mirror, her eyes obscured by her cap, but you could tell she was enjoying your blunt display of confidence. That made you laugh for real, putting an extra ‘oomph’ into the roll of your hips, dropping even lower, and feeling Bada take what you gave her with a great amount of enthusiasm. You heard the choreographer let out a "woo!" and you giggled.

At the very end of the choreo, you were meant to face Bada and push her away; making room for a final solo moment. So you turned around, meeting that familiar mischievous grin and your hand came up to curl into her collar. Bada sucked in her lower lip, greedily towering over you and looking down expectantly.

But something about the giddy atmosphere had you feeling bold, so you tugged her even closer instead. Her mouth fell open, but she followed you down nonetheless, eyes becoming half-lidded. You were mere inches removed from each other, and her breath fanned across your face. For a split second her gaze lingered on your lips, and you held your breath, heart fluttering in an unfamiliar feeling. A fleeting thought told you to bridge the gap, pull her impossibly closer by the grip you had on her collar, but your body acted before your brain could.

You reached for her cap and tugged it off her head, putting it on yourself in one swift movement and then shoved her away as you were supposed to do; effectively breaking the spell. You turned on your heel to look back at your reflection in the mirror, consciously blocking Bada from your periphery and closed out the song. The music stopped.

Now that the studio was quiet you could hear the both of you catching your breaths, and rather than facing Bada while your face was still heating up, you flopped onto the floor, limbs spread out. You moved Bada’s cap atop your face, blocking out the bright lights of the practice room, feeling exceptionally winded.

You felt Bada sit down next to you and she promptly pulled her hat off your face.

“Ow,” You uttered lamely, arms coming up to cover your face instead. Surely the shame you felt was on wide display and you had to save the little bit of the reputation you had left. You could already hear her voice, albeit uncharacteristically, echo in your head: “What was that?” “Why didn’t you just stick to what I told you?” “That was highly unprofessional.” Your stomach churned.

But instead she said: “That was incredible.”

“Huh.” You exclaimed unintelligently. You tentatively moved your arms from your face and were met with Bada staring you down, her hat back in place. It would probably be too weird if you went back into hiding, so you dropped your arms uselessly.

“That was incredible,” she repeated, a fond smile on her lips. “You are incredible. I’m telling you, we’ve got a hit on our hands.” She extended her arms excitedly, as if she had to convey the sheer magnitude of potential you both had crafted.

“You really think so?” You sounded breathless, the warmth in your chest blossoming.

“I know so. Seriously? If your team doesn’t like this, they’re idiots.” Her bluntness kicked a laugh out of you, and you playfully whacked her knee. “No, I mean it!”

“It wasn’t too much?” Slowly you sat up, tugging at the front of your shirt clinging uncomfortably to your body from the sweat.

Bada tilted her head, blinking at you sympathetically as she weighed your words carefully.

“I’ve already told you,” her voice was quiet, as if she was worried someone else might overhear, “I can’t get enough of you. The same goes for the public, by the way.”

That made you want to kick your feet like a teenager, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fought the impulse to fall into her arms. Instead, you dropped your head with a timid smile hoping that did enough to show your gratitude.

Bada placed a hand on your shoulder with a touch so soft she might as well be reassembling a broken vase, urging you to look at her. “Let's take a break, order some bubble tea and then watch the recordings. Sound good?”

You leaned into the touch with exhilaration. “Yeah. My treat, though.”

————— ୨୧ —————

The tenth day coincided with a photoshoot in the morning. You had gotten up at 4am to get to the location early enough so that there was enough room for your stylists to get to work.

The first thing you noticed was the visual board you had worked on tirelessly a few weeks prior.

It had changed.

Some of the images jumbled around or left out entirely, replaced by ones you did not recognize or even liked to begin with. Even the color scheme had changed. Before you could ask your manager about it, however, your hair stylist beckoned you to follow her into the booth. Still groggy, with just a protein shake in your belly to keep you at bay, you followed without objection.

But then, after you emerged fully made up with your hair in intricate braids and ribbons, you saw the backdrop you were going to work with and the outfits you would be wearing: they looked nothing like what you had agreed on.

Once sown into the baby pink corset, you looked at your reflection in the mirror with a glassy expression, too exhausted to even express the anger that was simmering in your chest.

“What happened to the costume I commissioned?” You asked your manager in a flat voice, fully realizing you wouldn’t like whatever the answer would be.

“Oh,” But he didn’t sound surprised at all, “We didn’t really like how it turned out, so we decided to go with something else. Pink looks good on you, you know.” He added hurriedly.

You blinked, clenching and unclenching your jaw. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene in front of all the staff. Firstly, it wasn’t their fault; secondly, word got around quickly and the last thing you needed was a trending blind item about diva behavior. With great difficulty you swallowed the venom down your throat and walked over to the camera crew without sparing your manager a single glance. Bowing to everyone separately, you turned on the autopilot. You just needed to get through the day. You posed for the flashing of the cameras, turning your brain off.

“That’s a wrap! Great work, all.” The photographer’s voice snapped you out of your daze, and you slowly stumbled away from the backdrop, blinking back tears.

“Great job everyone, thank you for your hard work.” You hoped your voice sounded even and hurried away to get changed.

Once alone in your dressing room, you bent over the sink with your hands in your hair. You didn’t understand. They had seen the choreography Bada and you had worked on, and approved. They had been enthusiastic even, and it felt like your team and you had finally buried the hatchet. Now you understood why they were so pliant in their acceptance of the final choreo; they had found something else to exert their control over. You didn’t want to cry, so you grit your teeth and untied your hair, fingers smoothing out where the braids had been.

Bada.

In the bustle of the early morning you had almost forgotten you were meant to start your first practice with the entire dance crew today, with Bada as the lead choreographer ensuring everything played out exactly according to your collaborative vision. It had been almost two days since you had last seen her, yesterday being a day off for the both of you, and for some reason it felt like a lifetime.

You wanted to see her, but you weren’t sure if you could dance today.

You arrived at the studio about an hour later, right on time, with most of your makeup cleared from your face and dressed in joggers and a crop top. This time you were sporting a cap as well, hoping the dancers wouldn’t notice the fatigue etched on your face on your first day with them.

Everyone was already there. Some dancers stretching, others practicing and a few watching the recordings while in deep discussion with Bada. Her flannel shirt was bunched up at her elbows as she made grand gestures with her hands, explaining something to the dancers in front of her. As the sound of the door opening and closing filled the room, the tall girl perked up mid-sentence, shooting you a wide smile.

“Hey! I got you some coffee.” She spoke brightly, walking over to you in big strides as her loose braid fell off her shoulder. You had just finished bowing to everyone when you turned to Bada, feeling your chest swell at the sight of her. “How was the shoot?”

She must’ve noticed something. Perhaps it was the sag of your shoulder, the way you bit your lower lip or the exhaustion in your eyes; but her smile faltered slightly when she got a closer look.

“It went alright.” You spoke neutrally, unable to meet her eyes but adding a nod to come across as reassuring as possible. “Thank you for the coffee.”

Bada stood a bit helplessly but seemed to understand that prying any further would be futile. “Of course, it was my turn, after all.” She smiled carefully. “You wanna get started?”

“Let’s do that.” You agreed, hoping that dancing would get your mind off of things.

Bada gathered everyone together and gave a small speech, making a conscious effort to do all the talking so you could comfortably hide the swelling insecurity you felt deep in your chest. You nodded at the right times, smiled at the dancers (some of them peeking at you in awe) and tried to come across relaxed.

Once Bada finished talking, she called for everyone to get in position as she strode to the far end of the room, where she had the most optimal view. You moved to the front, right next to your trampoline, facing the mirror and vaguely took note of a tall guy with a buzzcut who now stood in the spot Bada did when you had been practicing with her. Something about her not being part of the dance anymore, even though you perfectly knew this was going to be the plan all along, made you feel even less secure.

You shook your limbs loose, trying to empty your head for the sake of the dancers who were all blind to your inner turmoil and instead incredibly excited to be here. You did not want to waste their time. Once again, you forced yourself into auto pilot.

The song started playing, bubbling synths building up to your first lines, and you danced. You danced as you had practiced with Bada, but weren’t able to envision the crowd in front of you. Instead you relied on muscle memory, which worked out well enough. Even when the tall guy was behind you for the duet, hips grazing yours, you didn’t feel very aware of your surroundings at all. Sometimes you all had to stop midway when Bada noticed that someone was offbeat or out of position, but you slid back into the moves easily. The team was strong, too. You danced the choreo once, twice, thrice and a fourth time. When you grabbed the guy’s collar, you pushed him back immediately, unlike what you had practiced with Bada, and finished your move.

Bada clapped her hands together with a cheer.

“That was solid, everyone!” She strode over, giving everyone a thumbs up. “Some things we have to smooth over, but we are way ahead on schedule. Let’s take five. I— Are you okay?”

You barely realized your own actions until you felt the warm tears run down your cheeks. You had sat down on the trampoline in such an unceremonious way, body shaking from exertion as you tried to hold back hiccups. Panic began crawling up your body and into your throat. Suddenly aware of the dancers seeing you in such a state, you took your cap off and held it in front of your face.

“Actually, since we are ahead on schedule, let’s make this a short day.” Bada’s authoritative voice declared to the entire room. The dancers nodded along nervously, glancing at your hunched figure with palpable worry. “Great work everyone, make sure to get home safe. Same time tomorrow.”

You croaked out a soft “Thank you, everyone” through your fingers, but your voice was barely audible. You couldn’t face them.

Footsteps rushed around the room, the dancers gathering their backpacks off the floor. You barely registered the hushed voices slowly echoing further and further away from you, until the door shut with finality; a lock sounding in place and silence reigning over the space.

Bada’s hands came to rest on your shoulders as you felt the trampoline sink with her added weight. Then she pulled you into her arms with a tenderness you had never experienced from anyone before. Your arms tightened around her frame in instinct, dropping your cap onto the floor, and your heart constricting painfully as you hid your face in her chest.

She didn’t speak as you hiccupped soundlessly, letting the exhaustion pour out of you with quivering shoulders. Bada’s hands traced comforting lines along your back, her cheek pressed against the top of your head as she waited for the trembling of your body to subdue. In turn, you tried to focus on the steady rise and fall of her chest, her breathing lulling you.

After ten minutes of complete silence, Bada was the one to speak in a hushed voice: “What happened?”

You glanced up at her, tears still running down your cheeks as you choked back a particularly pathetic sob. “I’m sorry…”

Bada let out an affronted gasp, bringing her hands up to cradle your face instead and letting her thumbs wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Please don’t apologize. Tell me what happened.”

“My team,” You began with a slurred speech, “They still don’t believe in me. They don’t think I can pull this off.”

Your voice sounded heartbroken: “They make sure to remind me every chance they get. My manager is certain I am going to embarrass the nation, because there is only one thing I can do and it’s not this. I can’t be sexy. I don’t have good ideas. And maybe they’re right! I don’t have the charisma to pull this off. My fans are going to hate it, because it’s not the person they wanted to support—” There was nothing you could do except keep going, like a faucet running, and Bada let you, “—I can’t even wear what I want. My visual board was cybercore inspired. I had a red PVC two piece outfit custom-made, but they put me in a pink dress and ballet shoes.” You added, horrified; not at the clothes, but at the clear disconnect between your team and you.

Bada, who was nodding along to your words with a serious expression up until that point, chuckled at your words, thumbs still catching tears. “Well I always thought you looked like a pretty princess, but that’s indeed a bit on the nose.”

The follow-up to your rant died in your throat, eyes widening at her words. Your brain was short circuiting. “You think I’m pretty?”

The taller girl scoffed at that, brows furrowing. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

“Why?” You asked, genuinely.

For a moment she gawked at you, deep in thought and searching your face for insincerity. Bada was unable to find it.

“It’s not the only thing I think of you.”

Something about the atmosphere in the room changed when she spoke, and you almost forgot why you were upset in the first place. She carefully tucked your hair behind your ears, her eyes staring into yours unblinkingly. It reminded you of the way she had looked at you during practice days prior, when you had pulled her close by her collar for the first time. Her attention on you was suffocating, but you were glad to be drowning.

You sucked in your lower lip for a split second, releasing it, and waited with bated breath for her to continue. Her eyes dropped immediately, following your movements. She slid one hand down to the crook of your neck, slowly, the tips of her fingers tracing along your skin and leaving shivers in their wake; her other hand curled under your chin with a loose grip, tilting your head back slightly. Your head felt so heavy you could only lean in closer, wanting more of something you couldn’t even put in words.

But as always with Bada, she seemed to know what you wanted before you could open your mouth and ask for it. She closed the distance, brushing her lips against yours in a soft peck, and it was when you realized she was also holding her breath.

Her thumb trailed along your jawline, breath fanning over your lips. “Is this okay?” She asked quietly. You placed your hands on her thighs to brace yourself, your own lightheadedness overwhelming you, and nodded.

There was a shadow of a smirk on her lips when she kissed you a second time; lips connected with more force this time before gliding together in tandem. She tilted your head to get impossibly closer to you, her hand moving from your chin to tangle her fingers into your hair and cradling the back of your head. When her lips parted and closed around your bottom lip, nipping eagerly, you inadvertently let out a soft noise at the warmth of it all which only seemed to spur her on further.

You curled your hands into the front of her shirt as her back straightened, crowding around you as if her goal was to subdue, the trampoline creaking underneath your shared weight. She seemed to relish in overpowering you, inhaling sharply through her nose when you parted your mouth for her further.

You felt the tentative prod of her tongue, and accepted. The wetness made you shiver as she swallowed your quiet gasps. The hand that was previously nestled against your neck slid lower, began exploring along the curve of your waist and feeling the bare skin your crop top couldn’t reach to hide.

She parted the kiss, and you let out a soft whine. Biting her lip in an attempt to hide her smile, but ultimately failing, her eyes were drinking you in. You could only imagine what you looked like as even Bada was flushed all over, chest heaving from excitement. Then, as if she was reading your mind, her eyes glanced over to the mirror in front of you.

Bada shifted her position behind you, running her fingers through your hair before ultimately placing her palm against the other side of your waist. Steadily, as if she were correcting a move during practice, she turned your body to face the mirror. At this rate you simply accepted the effect she had on you, and wordlessly obeyed her ministrations. She planted her feet on the floor, long legs on either side of you; and ultimately caged you in, nestling her chin into the crook of your neck. Her eyes never left the mirror.

She brushed some of your hair over your shoulder as if she were propping up a doll, and spoke in a hushed voice: “Look at yourself.”

The sight made you feel all the more dizzy. Through half-lidded eyes you barely recognized your own reflection; hair slightly mussed and lips swollen and lovebitten. Someone did that to you. Bada did that to you.

The taller girl, pressed up against you, placed a kiss on your shoulder, fingers running up and down your body and making the hairs on your arms stand straight in exhilaration. You loved the way she touched you, how it made you feel; as if she was tracing the lines on an art piece. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered against your shoulder, “people would kill to see you like this.”

The honesty in her voice made something in your stomach roll. “Bada…” You began, but you didn’t even know what you wanted to say.

“You have no idea how other people look at you.” Her hands cradled the small of your waist, fingertips digging into your hips. “So let me show you how they look at you.”

She began kissing up your shoulder, soft and warm presses of her lips, before parting her mouth against your neck with a tangible hunger that left you sighing. You tilted your head to the side to give her more room and every inch you freed, she swarmed eagerly. Her tongue swirled against a patch of skin, hand flattening on your lower stomach as the other traced higher and higher, along your ribcage, before inquisitive fingertips moved under the hem of your top. As she sucked a mark onto your skin, you clenched your thighs together at the familiar sensation between your legs. Your eyes slowly fell shut as she crept up higher, lips pressing right below your earlobe with a barely-there hum.

She whispered: “Keep looking at yourself.”

You obeyed bashfully, right when Bada reattached her lips to your skin. She had been tracing lines along the hem of your sports bra, enthralled with the way you shivered in her grasp, before slipping a hand under; her hand was warm as she kneaded your breast, but your nipples stiffened at the sensation all the same. You pushed out your chest to convey your delectation, and she rewarded you by sinking her teeth into your skin. Suddenly, with a swift movement, both her hands hoisted up the hem of your top and bra, and pulled it upwards, your breasts releasing from its confines. The cold air made them perk up and Bada’s hands cupped the underside.

She detached her lips from your skin with a wet sound before looking up at the mirror, taking you in with her saliva-slicked mouth agape.

“So pretty,” Bada muttered, bringing your breasts a little higher, “Are you sensitive here?” She wondered loudly before tracing her thumbs right below your nipples. Once again your legs squeezed together, feeling yourself throb from excitement, and Bada picked up on the hint with a wide smile. “You are.”

In your reflection you saw Bada bring her fingers up to your mouth, thumb pressing down on your bottom lip imploringly, and you opened your mouth. She slipped her digit past, pushing it back against your tongue and you sucked obediently. Her eyes were drilling into yours through your reflection, enthralled by how pliant you were under her care.

You released the digit with a wet ‘pop’ and Bada promptly brought it to your nipple, rubbing it in circular motions as her other hand continued to knead your other breast. A quiet moan escaped you, chest rising into her touch and Bada giggled, pressing another kiss on your shoulder. Your own hands ached to touch her, but she kept you firmly locked between her legs; instead you squeezed her upper thighs, feeling her shapes through the baggy cargo she was sporting.

“Give me a kiss.” She commanded, and you immediately twisted your neck to capture her lips.

It was all teeth, wet noises echoing through the room as your tongue swirled against hers; the taller girl groaning into your mouth at the sheer force you exerted. She gave your nipples a pinch before rubbing her fingers over them repeatedly, and she swallowed your breathless moans greedily. You dug your nails into her thighs as she cupped your breasts again, her tongue slipping out of your mouth to trail along your bottom lip instead. Your head was chanting her name, getting drunk on the near delirious attention she gave you. Tilting your head back even further, you connected your lips again even though the angle was uncomfortable. You were starting to feel desperate, hips lightly rocking back against the firmness of her body as Bada sucked down on your tongue.

One of her hands released your breast and trailed down the expanse of your stomach, once again breaking the kiss and instead opt to look at you in the mirror. Her fingers found the knot of your joggers as your eyes met in the reflection, and she pulled on the string; untying it.

“Okay?” Bada inquired meaningfully, and you nodded much faster than you intended. “Let me hear you say it.” The tone of her voice, which was otherwise so gentle and quiet, made your full body shiver.

“I want it.” You spoke breathlessly, squirming impatiently between her legs as her fingers finally slipped down your pants.

She trailed along the sweatband of your underpants before cupping your heat over the fabric, fingers pressing against your folds inquisitively. Her eyes never left yours, quietly measuring your reactions. Unwittingly your thighs clamped around her wrist, breath hitching in your throat as she began to caress you with a touch so gentle it didn’t fit the precarious position you both were in.

“You’re so wet.” Bada spoke coyly, smirking at the way your eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. She began rubbing circles over your covered folds, feeling your wetness spread as if on command. Your breathing turned into whining, subconsciously grinding back against her hand.

She removed her hand much to your distress, until you realized what she wanted: Bada began tugging the fabric of both your joggers and underpants down as far as she could, before giving your hip a commanding pat. You raised your hips to assist her ministrations, and she pulled the clothing down past your knees before you kicked them off fully.

Your thighs were pressed together when you got back in place and suddenly felt self-conscious at how exposed you were despite your own eagerness. Bada wasn’t having it: her eyes were taking in your figure, hands immediately coming down to smooth along your thighs. Then, she squeezed tightly and wrenched your thighs wide apart, making you expose yourself for her. Before you could instinctively close them, her long legs hooked over your ankles, forcefully keeping them in place. All of it only made you throb harder.

“You don’t want to know how often I’ve been thinking about this these past few days.” Her hands smoothing along your sides in marvel, cupping your breasts once more. The tip of her nose pressed against the shell of your ear. “How many times I’ve watched those recordings and imagined you, exactly like this.” Her fingers fit into your mouth once again, and you sucked on them, letting your tongue swirl along the digits as if you were starving for it. “I think I lost count.”

Her confession made you moan around her fingers, shivers running down your spine. She scooted back ever so slightly, pulling your hips back with her unoccupied hand until it was the angle she needed, and then dropped it between your legs. Her fingers spread your folds and she sucked in a breath, completely mesmerized by your reflection. You were still swallowing around her fingers and she hummed encouragingly, hand cupping your vagina and spreading your wetness across your heat.

She removed her fingers from your mouth and you caught your breath, fingers digging into her upper thighs as you braced yourself. As one hand kept your folds spread, the other, spit-slicked, began rubbing slow circles against you. You gasped at the sensation, mumbling her name in amazement. You raised your hand to the back of her head; grabbing a hold of her braid to simply have a hold of something, but it earned you a particularly sweet noise from the girl behind you. Your hips rocked back against her movements trying to find more friction in the right place, and Bada slowly sped up, moving her wrist up and down to try and find the spot that did it for you. Her lips pressed against the back of your neck so tenderly, and something about the dichotomy between that and the way she was touching you between your legs made your eyes roll back; lids closing as you thrusted back against her hand.

You didn’t understand how she was able to build up to that familiar knot in your stomach so soon, and it almost made you feel embarrassed, until you realized Bada was savoring every second of it. Her eyes never left your form, as if she were studying just another choreography, lips parted in an awestruck way. You had long foregone the urge to keep quiet, vocalizing exactly what she was doing to you: You let a particularly loud moan leave you when she rubbed along your most sensitive spot. Trying to pull more sounds from you, she pressed against your clit with more force and rubbed faster. Your hips could only chase her touch as your lower stomach constricted.

Bada brought her hand up to her own lips and lapped at her fingers, effectively pausing her motions for a split second and thus drawing a broken whine from you; both because her hand wasn’t where you needed it to be and also because she had no qualms about having you in her mouth. It didn’t last long: she hushed you soothingly as she put her hand back where you felt it belonged and used the added wetness to add faster friction against your clit. Your head rolled back and you tugged at her braid, pulling an attractive groan from the girl behind you.

You weren’t far away anymore. Your lower stomach was unbearably tight with desire and you were a gyrating, frantic mess against her hand while her fingers rubbed against you in vertical swipes, her name falling from your lips repeatedly as if you were reciting a prayer.

You managed to utter an “I’m close”, and Bada crowded against you before you could start begging her for release. “Come for me.” She demanded, and then immediately captured your mouth in a desperate kiss, teeth clashing together while she drank your sweet moans.

As if on cue, the tension in your stomach imploded and you gave her braid a sharp pull. You gasped into her mouth, no longer kissing each other but rather breathing each other's air, as your orgasm rippled through you.

You felt your whole body quiver and shake in pleasure as Bada led you through your release, thighs trembling despite the hold the choreographer’s legs had on you. Her fingers hadn’t left your core, but the rubbing slowed down until you were gasping at the overstimulation, yet unwilling to make her hands leave you. As if she read your mind her movements came to a halt, but she pressed her palm against you; almost possessively. She planted kisses along the side of your throat, whispering praises against your skin as you caught your breath.

Once you had the rise and fall of your chest under control, her arms curled around your waist in a fond embrace, and you turned your head to look directly at her. She had already been staring at you, meeting your eyes with a bashful smile. The two of you laughed at each other, and Bada pressed your foreheads together.

“That,” You mumbled, eyes falling shut as you relished in her open affection: “Was amazing, thank you.”

“Was happy to do it.” She responded playfully, rubbing the tip of your noses together affectionately.

“Will this happen every time I get self-deprecating?”

“I definitely intend to do this more often, but you could also just ask nicely.” Bada retorted with a smirk before pecking your lips. You giggled, putting your hands over hers and leaning back into the embrace.

After several more shared kisses and hushed whispers, both of you decided to get a move on: you were starting to get cold in your exposed state so Bada urged you to get up. She helped you step back in your clothes, a smug self-satisfied grin never leaving her face when she noticed the unsteady wobble in your legs.

When you pulled your bra and top back over your breasts, Bada pouted. You gave her a playful shove but she caught your arms instead, bringing them around her neck as her own enveloped your waist.

“Wanna grab dinner?” Her eyes were round and hopeful.

“I would love that.” You replied, and gave her a kiss.

As the both of you tidied up the practice room and gathered your things, Bada listing off food suggestions in the background, your eyes slid to the table at the front of the room.

A familiar device remained perched on the edge, a small green light lighting up proudly.

“Hey, Bada.”

“Hm?”

“Camera’s still recording.”

She stumbled over looking mortified, snatching the device off the table and rewinding haphazardly.

“Oh, fuck.”

#bada lee x reader #swf2 #bada lee #bada lee smut #street woman fighter 2 #dalla!writes #im sorry in advance bhahaha #idk what i did

1K notes · View notes

alpaca-clouds · 9 months

Text

The history of Solarpunk

Okay, I guess this has to be said, because the people will always claim the same wrong thing: No, Solarpunk did not "start out as an aesthetic". Jesus, where the hell does this claim even come from? Like, honestly, I am asking.

Solarpunk started out as a genre, that yes, did also include design elements, but also literary elements. A vaguely defined literary genre, but a genre never the less.

And I am not even talking about those early books that we today also claim under the Solarpunk umbrella. So, no, I am not talking about Ursula K. LeGuin, even though she definitely was a big influence on the genre.

The actual history of Solarpunk goes something like that: In the late 1990s and early 2000s the term "Ecopunk" was coined, which was used to refer to books that kinda fit into the Cyberpunk genre umbrella, but were more focused on ecological themes. This was less focused on the "high tech, high life" mantra that Solarpunk ended up with, but it was SciFi stories, that were focused on people interacting with the environment. Often set to a backdrop of environmental apocalypse. Now, other than Solarpunk just a bit later, this genre never got that well defined (especially with Solarpunk kinda taking over the role). As such there is only a handful of things that ever officially called themselves Ecopunk.

At the same time, though, the same sort of thought was picked up in the Brazilian science fiction scene, where the idea was further developed. Both artistically, where it got a lot of influence from the Amazofuturism movement, but also as an ideology. In this there were the ideas from Ecopunk as the "scifi in the ecological collaps" in there, but also the idea of "scifi with technology that allows us to live within the changing world/allows us to live more in harmony with nature".

Now, we do not really know who came up with the idea of naming this "Solarpunk". From all I can find the earliest mention of the term "Solarpunk" that is still online today is in this article from the Blog Republic of Bees. But given the way the blogger talks about it, it is clear there was some vague definition of the genre before it.

These days it is kinda argued about whether that title originally arose in Brazil or in the Anglosphere. But it seems very likely that the term was coined between 2006 and 2008, coming either out of the Brazilian movement around Ecopunk or out of the English Steampunk movement (specifically the literary branch of the Steampunk genre).

In the following years it was thrown around for a bit (there is an archived Wired article from 2009, that mentions the term once, as well as one other article), but for the moment there was not a lot happening in this regard.

Until 2012, when the Brazilian Solarpunk movement really started to bloom and at the same time in Italy Commando Jugendstil made their appearance. In 2012 in Brazil the anthology "Solarpunk: Histórias ecológicas e fantásticas em um mundo sustentável" was released (that did get an English translation not too long ago) establishing some groundwork for the genre. And Commando Jugendstil, who describe themselves as both a "Communication Project" and an "Art Movement", started to work on Solarpunk in Italy. Now, Commando Jugendstil is a bit more complicated than just one or the other. As they very much were a big influence on some of the aesthetic concepts, but also were releasing short stories and did some actual punky political action within Italy.

And all of that was happening in 2012, where the term really started to take off.

And only after this, in 2014, Solarpunk became this aesthetic we know today, when a (now defuct) tumblr blog started posting photos, artworks and other aesthetical things under the caption of Solarpunk. Especially as it was the first time the term was widely used within the Anglosphere.

Undoubtedly: This was probably how most people first learned of Solarpunk... But it was not how Solarpunk started. So, please stop spreading that myth.

The reason this bothers me so much is, that it so widely ignores how this movement definitely has its roots within Latin America and specifically Brazil. Instead this myth basically tries to claim Solarpunk as a thing that fully and completely originated within the anglosphere. Which is just is not.

And yes, there was artistic aspects to that early Solarpunk movement, too. But also a literary and political aspectt. That is not something that was put onto a term that was originally an aesthetic - but rather it was something that was there from the very beginning.

Again: There has been an artistic and aesthetic aspect in Solarpunk from the very beginning, yes. But there has been a literary and political aspect in it the entire time, too. And trying to divorce Solarpunk from those things is just wrong and also... kinda misses the point.

So, please. Just stop claiming that entire "it has been an aesthetic first" thing. Solarpunk is a genre of fiction, it is a political movement, just as much as it is an artistic movement. Always has been. And there has always been punk in it. So, please, stop acting as if Solarpunk is just "pretty artistic vibes". It is not.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk, I guess.

#solarpunk #solarpunk aesthetic #solarpunk fiction #political movement #history #history of solarpunk #amazofuturismus #put the punk back in solarpunk #scifi #science fiction #clifi #climate fiction #ecopunk

3K notes · View notes

multifandomgirl08 · 10 months

Text

Mini Verstappen

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Summary: You get a small surprise the first time you visit Max's apartment

Warning(s): Slight angst (if you squint), child from a past relationship (Max), reader coming to terms with her feelings (on screen), ambiguous ending

A/N: I may add more to this in the future. Right now it's just a stand-alone.

Words: 1.3k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

From the moment you met Max, you knew that he was complicated. From his busy schedule, to the people he surrounded himself with when it came to his job. You knew it would be hard to keep up with a guy like him. But you had gotten the greatest shock of your life when you had showed up at Max’s Monaco apartment.

Max knew that you were going to be visiting him, he was the one who invited you to stay with him. And given that you had been doing long distance for about 8 months it only recently seemed like things were turning serious. Max had been very secretive about his apartment, he never invited you over when you had initially met him, and given that you were doing long distance, you only got to talk to him in the morning your time.

You had knocked on his door before he opened it to see him holding a toddler. Your hand dropped from your luggage. This was the last thing you were expecting. “Hey.” He muttered.

“Hi.” You said back. It was all you really could say looking at the child sleeping on Max’s shoulder.

“You should come inside.” He pushed the door open with his free hand. You could hear the light curse in Dutch that he let out under his breath.

As you made your way into Max’s penthouse, you started to internally connect all of the dots. This was why he normally answered you only at night, this was why all of his social media accounts only had work-related things posted on them aside from the few sporadic pictures of his family.

You set your bags by the door, turning to Max to see him place the child on the couch before covering him with a blanket with little F1 cars making up the pattern.

“I normally don’t do this,” He said, his accent coming through.

You furrowed your brows together in question. “Do what?”

Max looked at the couch as if he was pointing to the child. “I don’t normally introduce people that I don’t work with to my son.”

You honestly just felt awkward standing there. You had only really been on a number of dates with Max that weren’t phone calls. You traveled often enough for work that you got to see each other a few days every month or so, but it seemed like things were going rather well between you, you hadn’t expected this however.

“Normally, the women that I start to see don’t last more than 3 or 4 months, then they start to expect things. Getting invited to races and being invited to my apartment.” He offered up. That was maybe one of the reasons why you were here, you never pressured Max into inviting you over. You never asked him for more than he was willing to give.

Max moved to sit on the couch brushing his hair to one side like he couldn’t help but fumble with something given how strange this whole thing was for both of you.

“I’ve never gotten this far with someone since I’ve had him in my life.” It made sense why. He didn’t want someone around his son only for them to leave soon after, not a lot of people could handle taking care of a child as well as being in a relationship with their parent so early on.

“How long have you had him?” You asked wondering how long Max had been a part of his son's life.

“Almost 2 years. My last long-term girlfriend ended up pregnant. At first, she was going to keep him. She gave him up at the last second. She contacted my agent since we ended things not long before she found out.” He seemed to be answering in short sentences, almost as if he was afraid that his English couldn’t keep up with him.

Max was giving you a lot of information, probably because the only people he really got to talk to about this were the guys on the grid - guys who although they were around Max’s age didn’t have a child to take care of by themselves.

You couldn’t help but walk closer, almost dragging your feet but didn’t want to wake the little boy up by doing so. He looked like Max, like he was his little copy, down to the wide smile and the slight quiver in his brow as he slept. You couldn’t help but lightly smile seeing the little boy fist the blanket in his small grip.

You moved to sit next to him waiting to see if he’d say anything else. He didn’t, he just stroked the little boy’s hair away from his forehead. You looked to Max to see his blue eyes turn stormy like he was waiting for you to leave him alone with his son.

Was he waiting for you to run?

“I’m not leaving Max.” You said.

Any other person may have run, but Max having a son from a previous relationship although a little like a wake-up call didn’t make you want to run. It just made you more aware of how serious this would be. It wouldn’t just be the two of you, there was also someone else to consider.

You saw him drop his head into his hands, seeing his shoulders shake as you heard the unmistakable sounds of him sobbing. You hadn’t seen Max cry before. He was just one of those people who knew how to keep his emotions in check. It probably had to do with all the time he spent in front of reporters. He only really let go when it was the two of you, he was all smiles. His eyes would squint when he smiled wide at you, you loved looking at him when he smiled at you over candlelight. His shoulders were relaxed, and he couldn’t stop smiling at you. That was how you knew that he was really happy.

Max didn’t look like that now, his back was stiff. He was hunched over in a way that could possibly hurt his back if he kept it up. This just showed you how uncomfortable he was in the situation.

“You’re the only one who’s stayed long enough to meet him.” He sputtered out.

Hearing that just made your stomach turn uncomfortably.

You laid your head against his shoulder wanting to say something to comfort him, but thought it would be better just to stay there with him.

“He looks like you.” You muttered.

You could feel Max’s shoulders shake again, not sure if he was still crying.

“Victoria said the same thing the first time she saw him.” He said clearly.

You had only met Max’s sister a few times before. She seemed to like you from the conversations that you had.

“I understand why you waited to tell me about him.” You would like to find out his name, instead of referring to him as Max’s son.

“I didn’t want to drop it on you, I just didn’t know how…” Max’s eyes shifted once again to the sleeping boy.

“Well, I am a little bit shocked, and this wasn’t what I was expecting when you invited me to come spend the week with you but I’m up for it,” Max telling you he had a son wasn’t a part of your plans, however, given that you had almost been together a year. It felt nice that he was finally letting you into his world a little more.

He looked up at you, and you could see that he was shocked. His face was completely slacked, his plump lips open. His eyes were still red from crying but could see that they were getting clearer.

“His name’s Nico,” Max offered up.

You felt really tempted to reach over and move Nico’s hair from his eyes but instead just dropped your hand to Max’s lap and whispered against his cheek, “It suits him. Nico Verstappen.”

He looked at you like he wanted to tell you something, instead he just reached for your hand. Clasping them together in his grip he said, "Thank you, for not leaving."

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #mv33 imagine #mv1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #Mini Verstappen Series

2K notes · View notes

theoccultz · 7 months

Text

How does your beauty influence others?

Theme: certain traits makes you attractive, What are those certain traits ?

General reading, take what resonates leave what doesn't

Pics not mine credits to their rightful owners

Decision is always yours i'm not responsible for it

LGBTQ friendly pac

Let me know which pile you selected!!

Your likes ,reblogs & feedbacks are appreciated (:

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

Your magic lies

In your beauty....

Pile l . Pile ll. Pile lll.

▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️

Pile l -

Key words : unexpected ,timeless , classic, melannial ,funky

Cards :ace of cups , the lovers r , 8of wands , knight of wands r, b.o.t.d & 3of cups oracle: scrunity ,maze

Its not hard to assume you live a busy life you could have a really comfortable style , people assume you are a cat lol not literally but you seem sophiscated you could be late and still look put together i'm getting the combination of green and black its seductive and mysterious, i feel like you could do both you could be the soft or tough based on your mood . You could be experimental you dont stay the same you ard different person every year the one who has outgrown others in the best way positively,your exchange of energy is also very positive you could be a sick child growing up so you understand the importance of being included, you are not complicated to handle pile l , you dont need others approval let people in let people help you you dont have to do things alone you can rely its an honour you are not a burden and you should know that .

I'm getting Cinderella here she's really down to earth and determined if she wants something she gets it i dont feel like others know a lot about you , you could feel people stare at you for a longer time like they keep an eye out for you , you have a really butterfly effect 🦋, others can see you but they cant touch you now idk why it's coming up here , you could move alot like you're really cheerful as well as suspicious of your surroundings 😭✋🏼, you could talk with everyone im getting others anticipate seeing you they genuinely love your energy. Im getting cancer eye's your eyes could be really loud and expressive it gives away what you're feeling , you could look confused and awkward there's this introspection energy to you its really lively like a kid who's just out here experiencing life but then not everyone has their attention they like to have attention on themselves and they dont trust a lot of people its the vibe yeah , i'm getting people have a friend crush on you like they want to approach you get you know you more invite you to places but the energy you give off is not for everyone you could be an ambivert im not necessarily getting like you rub people off the wrong way its just they dont know if you'd be open to them and their offers you could have a tight circle around you thats why i was getting people hear a lot about you through others and its really exciting, people rather observe you than approach you ,you can work together collaborate with each other but you dont like to blend in with people initually its not forced you form alliance with others naturally, you need to be sure of them first .

Yeah but i was really sad channeling that people want to approach you but you know they're nervous that you would reject them 🫠and i really think they should make the first move they wouldn't be rejected yeah they feel like they miss out and kind of support you silently but at the same time they wanna know whats up ? Ahh a little bit messy energy here if they're just listening and making assumptions then its a little bit intrusive to wanting to keep up with you but i guess people are curious. You could have been rejected when you were younger ,made to be feel like you have to be a certain way only then others would accept you i feel like you outgrew their stupid expectations you are now a person with dignity you have a righteous energy to you ,you can now speak for yourself and thatsa positive change you didn't grew up to hurt others if you were hurt you grew responsible & confident and i admire that .

You could have romantic body type you look really cute and sweet. ,shimmers could suit you a lot its like silk ,scarf , pastel colours yeah thats how i would describe it , i feel like most of the times you are unaware of the attention you receive lol im getting people could hear abt you a lot from others like oh did you see this ...they went ....there .....they did this. You could have suffered from low esteem issues in the past that could have effected your confidence a lot to the point that you didn't liked to stand out even though you have an appealing beauty like everything looks good on you , you are peoples dream person but then what is the problem? I really dont want to put you in a box and say you have a boy/girl next door.... puppy beauty because i feel like it cant be defined by one thing ...i cant talk abt your hair or eyes or face i have to know other sides of you ,you are not just a pretty face you are wise and emotionally intelligent which others lack & its a damn big thing , you would never make fun of someone in the name of gossip with the knight of wands here you are good when others are good to you . you know your worth if someone's disrespecting you they would get a reality check you are not all flowers and tears im also getting you have kind of a bad rbf when you're mad its over its wrath otherwise you are sweet and look uninterested most of the times 🕴️you could not even fuck with a lot of people you're just your own person . (By fuck i mean interact n keep up )

Others love how you are thoughtful of little things they could feel you have a really positive influence on others people idealise you for your knowledge you dont have a one way response for a situation you will either make people understand rather to criticise or humiliate someone. While shuffling i didn't get a lot of things your energy should be studied deeply to understand where you're coming from i cant just demand things ,i cant just pick and name you ...i 'm really loving your vibe 🦄 i wanna know more , dont hide your face with your hairs. , dont cover your marks w/makeup ,don't feel a certain way abt yourself you are really pretty the kind of beauty to draw others dont make people stalk you lol be open and raw i picked up ..a lot of nervous energy 👀you influence others to acknowledge a deeper part .

I would describe you like a Melanie Martinez song particularly :

Thanks for reading!!!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Pile ll .

Key words: peaceful , tolerant, monument, majestic, hot headed

Devil r, queen of cups , knight of swirds, 3ofcups, kingofwandd- b-t-d oracle-harmony , miracle .

Okay people are really emotionally drawn to you i'm getting you dont demand attention but you attract it people in this pile feels very invasive as well . With the knight of swords others feel overprotective of you they feel rejected i feel like you are over protective of your energy as well ,you have good sense of boundaries you might be a rebellious person but you dont come across as that you are seen in a carefree and sweet manner ,someone who's just content and is mostly busy with their own stuff they wont find you bitching abt others , you're focused on creating something also i feel like you dont go with the hype cause its useless you feel like energies are ever-changing what's trending now wont be trending later so its useless to buy stuff thats of no use . You are really classy we know you won't be talking in the air .

People fantasise about you you could be young and it could be uncomfortable,the truth is there's this traditional role that people go in ,they want to provide and take care of you ...yikes it feels like self assesed ,you could be favoured in your family or friend groups .I feel like people feel guilty and sad if they kind of dismiss you or disappoint you there's this commanding energy which i'm picking up on but i dont know how its not coming across as that i feel its very subtle that makes the difference lol.

With king of wands others feels like you dont give them the time of the day that you're here for your own benefit like you could interact with others on some tasks ,you could be an outgoing person good with everyone but the energy is not i'm up on your face its just there its comfortable with you ,others feels like you're moody yeah like you have your days and they should respect that but some people take it on their ego.

You could have surprising hobbies that attract others ,you could think about things very deeply its like you provide others with a fresh perspective you could have been named as the alien someone who doesn't think like others yeah its an very outstanding interpretation that i get from you also its like we dont have to try hard to make an effort your energy is like air its very welcoming its not rigid or pushy its flexible its forthcoming so its quite easy to work with you to interact with you i'm also picking up on this protective barrier i feel like people dont respect your boundaries so you have this aura or this glance that intimidates others its like they cant just push you around they need to be respectful you could have came from a family of responsible strong women's who most likely took care of a lot of things so its impressive.

Your energy reminds me of shark you'know how sharks have this big energy, how shark moves really slow but when they attack they're very aggressive also they have this sharp fins and teeths that you'know gives us an indication that there could be something dangerous lurking so you haave to be careful,you could have had emotionally absent parents or you could be raised by a single parent so growing up you really aim for this stability i feel like you're a really simple person who has had it rough and others can feel that . I'm picking uo a liberal energy here someone who's interested in philosophy,arts , literarure ,fashion .

You could be excellet in multitasking you could have developed different skills ,i'm getting finance and other teck skills as well you could have good sense of health ,humour ,time management, its like you dont stop you just keep moving onto better things you know how to take care of yourself how to navigate things through,how to influence others whats good whats not its like you are not easily swayed by others opinions or is afraid of controversies you dont like to waste your time youare really strong internally. You could be a counsellor you influence others in a manner where we understand our own value and is motivated to push through, we can learn a lot from you because you're an open person someone who doesn't take advantage of others you help them in the right direction and thats refreshing,you could work in health secter as well i'm getting dentist people could feel relieved or relaxed after sessions or you just has this energy which is comforting very Libra liks .

With the devil in r combining with the queen of cups people cant manipulate you or play any games its just not possible i feel like you could organise things or you could be a leader its like you will pick up on things quicker i also feel like people are intimidated by your Beauty you just come across really content and sensible its like you will not talk we have to come towards you yeah pile2 i feel like your energy and just gow you present yourself the things you say is magnetic and Inspiring, you are thoughtful philosophical being who's doing something in life you understand the privileges and whatsoever of life . You are just livin' in the present trying to make sense of the present moment not worrying abt future inventions .you have high standards and that's impressive cause not everyone is willing to make a change in themselves,some are dimming their light to fit it but they end up feeling rejected right .

I'll describe you as a kali uchis song particularly:cause you bring a lot to the table

Thanks for reading!!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Pile lll.

Key words: optimistic,smitten, courageous,sour candy , committed

Cards : the world ,7of cups ,3ofswords r, 10of cups,9ofcups, the wheel of fortune, 5 of cupsr b-t-d oracle : lover ,foe

You guys are charmingg people look upto you , you have a certain amount of influence you know your self worth you worked on it , yeah lets end it here 😭

Ok there's a lot to say you give off *rich , stable ,bold , sophisticated vibes honey you ain't takin shit from no one you have always stood up for yourself you dont let yourself be down by the people who haven't done shit in their life ,you have gone through shadow periods and came out strong as hell nothing can pull you down you are set in your own ways people love to be in your presence whether they say it or not , i'm getting this outside looking in energy where others look how abundant you are, how blessed you are , how much you have faced but still you are not a loser who would hurt others just because someone hurt you ,you will fight back you will show them its not all done your journey begins when you do self discovery you teach people to be raw and to forgive oneself .

people come to you for advice they know you will tell them as it is sometimes we just need a push to do things and you helped them with it there's this really uplifting energyto you its overwhelming i cant just note down certain characteristics of yours no i'll have to study ,i'll have to wait and discover,ill have to get you know you on a deeper level ,i have to know how you made yourself when no one was there for you and that i could do it too , its very 9th house energy where you are creating things for you ,you are not blindly following traditions you are not blinding teaching others , you are interested in deeper meaning of things and it reflects in your behaviour i feel so heard and seen in your presence you are not that person who'll just say things to say you will accomplish them .

You are not gonna follow someone just because they're good looking with zero morality,you are not that typpa person and its admirable , others see in every step you take you are unleashing your potential a lot of people admire you for the things they cant do not everyone is brave to even think and establish yourself outside of your circle, outside of what you were taught you stick to your principles. You might feel i'm exxagerating but no pile3 you deserve every bit of it . I feel like you have a lot of good things coming for yourself its very 1st house energy here that i'm picking up on you will get a stage to shine bright .

I'm getting in a very brave sense that others tend to think of you in a good light some people could've underestimated you never really supported you but you dont need them you never did ,you had your goals and it is your life you realise that pile 3 . Its almost shocking how you take change and make yourself much stronger after every transformation . You are not fear you are action and you are not filtered truth you are raw and connected with your roots.

Pile3 i acknowledge your growth and what it took you to get here. I'm feelin' this is a really interesting protoganist thinker pile who's seeking their free will who's just this dream person like a magician someone who dreamt of things and now mastered the skills , little things make changes wow 😭let me speak lmao i just chanelled it it came like a hurricane . People feel like you have a lot of options its like there's this feeling of inferiority in your partners that you attract they dont recognise their value but i feel like you have a positive influence on them , you are an experience to live pile3 its that amazing energy that i'm really getting, i feel like you guys could have bugged down by others a lot when you were younger your ideologies didnt matched you grew up questioning a lot of things you were interested in exploring different worlds you didn't wanted to go by the book you are like a bird no can can tie you down in one way or other , you are gonna shine people could be jealous of you but thats normal someone has to be shitty and thats not on you so dont take it to heart , others are constantly impressesed by your inner strength even though they wont say it they know you are doing the right thing even people with strong opinions realise this about you but there's this shame of not recognising your potential or constantly projecting their negative feelings onto yoh but you have outgrown them pile3 you donf need to be associated in a certain way you are your own individual and people should remember you for that and i can assure you , you are gonna get there you are gonna make it big there's this stability and fire within you that cant be tamed .

You could be a writer i feel like you attract a lot of potential partners like fr y'all , even if you're not a writer i wanna listen to what you share , i wanna study you thats how intense the energy is its like you never stopped levelling up damn thats a lot . I feel like your looks are deceiving but hey have you seen what have i done? Do you know what it takes to be here ? TO BE MYSELF .yeah pile3 thats it for you . I cant describe you in one word i'm sorry .

I'll describe you like a Beyoncé song particularly:

Thank you for reading!!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

#Spotify #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarotblr #spirituality #tarot reading #intuiative reading #free tarot reading #tarotcommunity #vd #how does your beauty influence others

1K notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 9 months

Text

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 | sub!robert fischer x dominatrix!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you're a professional dominatrix, he's a restless heir in desperate need of being put in his place; you both know what this is. it's just your job, it's just his fetish. no reason to make it more complicated than that, right?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 7.2k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (18+ only), bdsm dynamics, reward/punishment, orgasm denial, overstimulation, oral f and m receiving, cnc (meaning he says no but it's not literal, there's a safeword in place for that), angst and fluff at the end, presumably inaccurate depictions of sex work and dominatrix-ing, robert cries. a lot.

You weren’t expecting much when you met him, just another rich boy with daddy issues and an Italian suit.

And… yeah, you were pretty much exactly on the money. The very literal money— Robert was already paying almost double what anybody else was, in order to have a monopoly on your time. But, that said, he still managed to surprise you.

First of all, you were surprised how little experience he really had with this. People tend to ease into paying thousands of dollars for an on-call professional dominatrix; but Robert had the money and impulsive personality necessary to start at the top. It’s like getting a Lambo for your first car… which, to be fair, he had also done. He admitted to you that he’d only had one or two experiences with dominant women and the lifestyle in general: he credited it partially to a need for discretion, that he couldn’t just go to a club with the risk of the wrong people recognizing him and his business being affected. Though that was a fair reason, you knew he was leaving out his own anxiety as a significant factor as well.

Secondly, he surprised you with how well he understood his own needs and limits for someone with such little experience. He explained to you, in rather shameless detail, that he was looking for someone to relinquish emotional control to— that he didn’t need to be really physically tortured, just to be psychologically tormented. In that way, he was less ‘hardcore’ than many of your clients, who had physical damage to show for their time with you by the end of the session, but he was absolutely no wimp. A crybaby, yes, but not a wimp; big difference.

And, perhaps least importantly, he surprised you by being young, and hot. Not, you know, too young, and still older than you, but closer to your age than any of your other clients. As for him being hot, well… yes, he was probably the best-looking of your clients. ‘Probably’ being a polite word for ‘definitely’. Ironically, for being so submissive, he had a somewhat intimidating visage: sharp features, bright and icy eyes, quite tall as well. That was probably what most people saw first, but you were lucky to be able to appreciate completely how delicate he really was: with that pleading wet gaze, his thick bottom lip between his teeth, an unexpected softness to his masculine features.

You were surprised he needed to pay someone for this, looking like that, but then again, his kinks were a bit specific and his need for privacy was understandable. Maybe what all that money really was, was just hush money. After all, truth be told, you probably wouldn't mind doing the rest of it for free.

A friend of yours in the business warned you that that was a sign you needed to stop working for this guy. If you’re catching feelings, get out now, she warned. You tried to assure her it wasn’t feelings— just an acknowledgement that he was absurdly beautiful— but she didn’t seem to buy it; you yourself were starting to doubt that excuse.

But, here you were: usual place, usual time. A lot of your clients preferred hotels, but Robert Fischer found the most discreet method was just to have you come to his penthouse; he had a few properties, but apparently this one was the most secluded. The private elevator certainly gave off that impression.

He’d given you your own key to use, to take you to his place whenever you wanted. Obviously, you only went there when you had an appointment… but you did get a little giddy every time you used it. You got the impression that some small part of him hoped you’d use that key on your own time one day, but that could’ve been you projecting: you tried to remind yourself that he, like all the other clients, probably didn’t think of you much when you were gone.

It was hard to hold up that narrative just a few minutes later, though, as you stood in his bedroom with him on his knees in front of you.

“Missed you so much, Mistress,” he mumbled against your skin as he pressed his face to your thigh. “I swear, I haven’t thought about anything else since last time— can we move up to four times a week? Three isn’t enough anymore.”

He was a little more desperate than usual because, even with three sessions a week, this one had been delayed by two days because of his work. Still, he couldn’t quite justify being this worked up when you’d seen him four days ago… “Do you want to talk business, or do you want to play?” you asked him quickly. “Scheduling is best done before or after—”

“Sorry, sorry,” he sighed, looking up at you through his lashes. “Sorry, I just— we can talk about that later. I need you so fucking bad— and you look so pretty…”

You dressed a bit differently for him. Most of your clients wanted latex, leather, chains, studs— you know, the usual. Robert told you from the start he preferred soft things, pretty things. He’d asked if he could buy you things to wear but you insisted on simply billing him for whatever you picked out: anything else was giving him too much power over you. Thankfully, he’d never had an issue with your tastes.

He liked seeing you in relatively ‘normal’ clothes. Little black dresses with lacy pantyhose, silk robes— he actually went a little feral seeing you in a pinstriped three-piece suit once, but that’s another story. Today, you were keeping it classic with a black skirt and blazer, plus stockings with garter belts (his favorite) and your tallest, sharpest heels. Clearly it had the intended effect, since you hadn’t even told him to get on his knees when you walked in…

“Get up,” you told him, and he scrambled onto his feet and gave you a look that barely hid how impatient he was feeling inside. “Actually, I have some business to discuss with you. Take a seat on the bed, why don’t you?”

He tilted his head a bit but did as he was told. He hadn’t even seemed to notice the briefcase you brought— maybe his life was just so full of briefcases he’d learned to ignore them. But you certainly had his attention when you set it down between you and opened the clasps— though you didn’t lift it to reveal its contents yet.

“I’m very disappointed in you,” you informed him flatly. He seemed thrown off— like he couldn’t tell if this was part of the scene or not.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said first, then adding, “what did I do wrong? I’ve been so good…”

“I saw you in the papers.”

Reaching inside, you pulled out the newspaper picture of him, walking along the Manhattan streets with a young woman by his side. She was taller than him with her heels on, overwhelmingly blonde, annoyingly pretty. His eyes went wide at the sight. “Oh—” he began, but you cut him off.

“It’s not right for you to be seeing me when you have a girlfriend,” you explained, pausing before you set down a magazine snapshot of him with a different model, “or two.”

“N-no, wait, I can explain that,” he rushed, but you shoved the pictures aside and leaned forward, sneering at him.

“Is that what you are, huh? Just a slut?” you snapped. “Am I not enough for you?”

“No! God, no— you’re everything,” he whined, “of course. Those are just—”

“Just what? They seem like lovely young women, Mr. Fischer, you don’t need to insult them for my benefit.”

“Oh, don’t call me that,” he pouted, looking down— already his cheeks were getting redder. “You’re really mad at me? For being seen with them?”

You knew he was upset you weren’t calling him a pet name, the last thing he wanted to be when you were here was Mr. Fischer— he wanted to be your good boy, your baby, your puppy, your pet. “I’m more concerned about what you did that nobody else saw, Robert,” you admitted.

The last thing you wanted to do was appear jealous— that was never what you would do, or at least, not your character. But one of your rules for Robert was that he was required to be celibate outside of your sessions with him. It was always about control— and he loved the humiliation of being reminded that you worked with other men and slept with whoever you wanted, but that he was doomed to only be yours. He asked you to remind him all the time, whispering in his ear about how he belonged to you, that nobody but you could touch him, that he was just Mistress’ good boy.

“It’s not like that, I swear,” he whined, “they— it was just publicity. For both of us— I mean, for the girls and for me. It’s business!”

“Right,” you returned, not acting especially convinced. One of those photos in the magazine was pretty deliberate— his arm around her waist, whispering something in her ear with a smirk. It certainly didn’t seem like business.

“Please, Mistress, you know I’d never—”

“Do I?” you interrupted sharply. “I mean, after you were so naughty last time—”

“I didn’t mean to come so fast, I was just—”

“How dare you speak over me?” you hissed, and he clamped his mouth shut as his shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry, ma’am…” he whispered with defeat.

“I’m starting to wonder, what’s stopping you from breaking any of the rules? How do I know you’re really behaving?”

“Y-you know, because…!” he trailed off, eyes darting wildly as he looked for a response. “Because you know how bad I need you. How important you are to me.”

When your heart beat a little faster, you told yourself that he really meant how important these sessions are to me.

Going back to what seemed like his default state, Robert dropped to the floor again, kneeling in front of where you had your legs crossed tensely. Twice now he’d done that without you asking, but you weren’t going to correct him this time because, well… some men were just meant to be on their knees. “I swear, I swear it wasn’t real, was all just for the pictures… I’d never break your rules, Mistress, I wanna be good for you.”

“Want to, yes,” you smirked, “but it takes a lot of willpower, when you could afford as many little playthings as your heart desires.”

You leaned back on your hands as he got more and more desperate, and you fought the urge to smile proudly seeing him panic a bit. He knew that with your hands holding your weight, you wouldn’t be running your fingers through his hair or stroking his cheek… he was getting antsy, still not having been touched by you ten minutes into the session. “Let me show you,” he pleaded, “I promise, I only want you— I-I’ve been waiting for this, for you to touch me again…”

Now, truthfully, you’d believed him when he said those girls were for show— for publicity, as he said. But only now that he said it like that did you really believe how desperate he was. Unfortunately for him, it just made you want to tease him more. “Touch you?” you repeated, egging on his begging.

"Please, touch me," he whined, "please, I'll be so good… I need you, Mistress."

"I know you do, baby, but I don't think you've earned me yet."

“Yes, ma’am— I don’t deserve you,” he breathed. “I know I don’t.”

He looked so sweet, so broken, looking up at you like that. “Why should I touch you at all tonight, baby boy?” you asked sweetly; he rested his forehead on your knee, looking exhausted from his own desperation.

“I… I don’t know if you should,” he admitted, surprising you a bit. “I just know that if you don’t, I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

You said nothing, though you couldn’t fight your smile, and he continued softly under his breath.

“I swear, I only want you,” he whispered. “I only ever wanted you.”

“Alright,” you shrugged, “show me how bad you want me.”

Uncrossing your legs, you let him see that your little outfit today didn’t include any panties; as he caught a glimpse up your skirt, his shoulders and chest sunk with a sigh. “Mistress,” he breathed, but a second later he grabbed a tight hold of your legs and yanked you closer to the edge of the bed so he could push up your skirt and dive right in.

He was always ravenous when he did this. It didn’t matter how long it had been since you saw him last, how long you teased him, or if you just walked right in and ordered him to his knees: he always, always ate you out like his life depended on it. He was obsessed with serving you this way, moaning and whimpering against your skin, grabbing weakly at your hips or thighs and sometimes struggling to control his own arousal as his cock throbbed in his trousers.

You were already trying to temper your reactions; if you showed how much you liked it, you’d be surrendering a bit of your dominance, and that couldn’t be allowed. Instead of gasping or moaning his name, you simply hummed and reached down to card your fingers through his hair; he whined against you, even louder when you tugged on it.

“Good boy,” you praised softly, making him shut his eyes tight as he sucked and licked at everything his mouth could reach. He flicked his tongue over your clit and you fought not to let your hips buck against his face. “Very good boy— how much do you like tasting Mistress’ cunt?”

“More than anything,” he answered, taking a break from the main task to kiss and bite hungrily all over your inner thighs. “Fuck, I could taste you forever— you’re so perfect— should I keep going?”

“Of course, baby, just keep looking up at me.”

God, those eyes; sometimes you thought he could look right through you with those. Could he see how hard you were fighting not to lose it right there, not to lay back and order him to fuck you? You wondered if he would— it had never gone that far with him, he was obsessed with the denial, the inequity, the deprivation. To be fair, you didn’t have sex with any of your clients… but you also never thought about sex with any of your clients, other than him.

“Alright, that’s enough,” you decided after a few moments, causing him to look up at you with concern like he’d done something wrong.

“I’m not allowed to make you come?” he pouted.

“Not yet,” you said simply. “Get up.”

He popped right up, ready to serve— as always.

“Why don’t you take off your shoes for me?” you encouraged, and he certainly wasted no time; but as he toed his shoes off, he shirked off his jacket, loosening his tie and getting a few buttons of his shirt undone. You raised your eyebrows, frowning at his eagerness. “Stop. I didn’t say all that.”

He slowed to a stop. “S-sorry,” he mumbled, looking away.

“Lay on the bed.”

You watched patiently as he did, sitting up beside him but not getting too close. He looked nice mostly-dressed, his suit half-removed and a bit disheveled. You’d made him strip completely before, adding to his vulnerability, but you thought there were benefits to this too: by wearing his work clothes, you were reminding him of the man he was supposed to be while treating him like the needy boy he really was. Whether or not he noticed that irony, he shuddered when you gently brushed your hand over his bulge, which flexed as if trying to ask for more itself.

“Look how hard you got for me, just from eating me out,” you noticed proudly.

“Tastes so good,” he whimpered his excuse, biting his lip when you started to open his belt and trousers. “Y-you’re sure I deserve it?”

“No,” you admitted, “but I think it might be fun to touch you a little. You want me to, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, of course,” he rushed, just as emphatic as ever.

He keened and bucked up into your hand when you just barely touched his cock; you pulled away, giving him a stern look as a reminder not to move too much. When he settled down, you gently reached into his boxers again and freed his aching cock. There was a little precum at the tip already, and he was looking at you with fascination as you delicately touched him, but never properly gripped or stroked it just to keep him on edge a little more.

“How long has it been since anyone but me touched you like this, baby boy?” you wondered.

“Y-years,” he choked, “years— I don’t even touch myself anymore, I swear.”

You gently ran your fingers over the ridge of the head, making him shudder and writhe on the bed. “Are you sure? You didn't even jerk off after feeling up that lovely young lady in the magazine?"

"No— and I didn't— c'mon, Mistress, don't you believe me?" he choked. "I'm your good boy, you know I am— love being yours…"

“So you really don’t touch yourself?”

“No!” he snapped, correcting his tone a moment later. “No, I… I stopped when you told me to.”

"Well, how about you show me how you used to do it?" you encouraged with a grin, taking your hand away from him. "Stroke your cock for me, puppy."

"No, please," he gasped, "I want you to— please, I'm sorry—"

"Stop fucking whining and do what I tell you," you sneered. "Not such a good boy after all, are you?"

He suddenly scrambled to get his hand around his cock when you put it like that, groaning and biting his lip as he gripped himself tightly. "Like this, Mistress?" he panted proudly.

"Mm, something like that," you cooed. "But go a little slower, baby boy, we've got plenty of time."

His eyes got wide with fear— fear that you would really make him edge himself the whole time. You had much bigger plans, though.

He found a rhythm: not horribly slow, but careful and precise. His cheeks kept getting pinker as you watched him, and he once reached out to touch your thigh with his free hand, but you moved away.

“C’mon,” he begged quickly, “can I just… can I at least see…?”

“See what?”

“Y-your tits, maybe,” he asked shyly, stroking his cock faster already at just the thought.

“I don’t think you need to see my tits,” you accused, noticing that his cock was already flexing in his grip. He really had been worked up, if he was this sensitive to just his own hand. “You’re doing just fine, baby.”

He grunted but went on, shifting around on the bed slightly.

“A little faster now,” you told him. “When you used to jerk off like this, before you met me, did you imagine while you did it? Did you watch porn?”

“Yes— I mean, imagine, always; porn sometimes,” he answered.

“What kind of porn?”

“Uh… this kind,” he admitted with a small laugh. When you heard that laugh, saw the self-effacing smile on his face, you suddenly thought again about what your friend said: if you’re catching feelings, get out now. But you shook the thought from your mind.

“Do you miss it? Being able to get yourself off?” you pressed.

“Fuck no,” he grunted, and you caught the way his cock bobbed in his hand— he was getting even closer, poor thing. “Don’t even— don’t want to now, but… but I’m trying so hard to be good for you…”

“I know,” you offered with a sympathetic, yet condescending, pout as you leaned in and caressed his face for a second. Just that seemed to push him even closer, and he struggled to keep his hips down again.

“I— fuck, I’m close,” he finally admitted. “I’ll come…”

“Okay,” you shrugged.

"Oh, please, please don't make me come," he whimpered. "I— I don't wanna come like this…"

You tilted your head. "Like what, puppy?"

"I want… I want you to touch me…" he pouted, eyes welling up a bit.

"We agreed you don't deserve that, Robert," you said sternly.

"Fuck! I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sobbed— and there were real tears, he was obviously devastated that he had let you down so much. "I'll do anything, I swear— let me be your good boy, your puppy— Mistress, I just wanna be yours again…"

You slapped him hard on the thigh when you saw his hand start to falter. "Don't slow down," you snapped. "I want you to keep going— keep stroking your poor cock, don't fucking stop until I tell you."

"But I— I'm so close," he choked.

"That's not my fault," you chuckled. "You're a pathetic whiny baby who comes too quick, that's not really my problem."

He bit his shaking lip and blinked through his tears, hips beginning to buck up into his own hand. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said over and over, "I didn't mean to be bad, I promise… only ever wanted t-to be your good boy…"

Feeling just a little sympathetic, you leaned in closer to speak beside his ear. "Is my good boy gonna come if I tell him to?"

Though he hesitated, he nodded.

"But you don't want to?"

He shook his head.

"Because you want me to touch you when you come, right?" you pressed, your voice just as soft as your touch while you gently ran your hand up his leg. He whimpered and squirmed, his eyes getting a bit wide. "You want me to make you come?"

"Yes! Please, fuck, please, Mistress…" he gasped.

You rubbed his inner thigh as he stroked himself faster; you could see his cock flexing, and you knew he was trying so hard not to come right then. Deciding to test him further, you let your fingers run over his swollen balls, and he choked on his own throat. "Bet these are so full of come for me," you purred.

"Yes, Mistress," he hissed.

"Stop moving your hand," you ordered suddenly, and for a man who'd been begging you to let him stop, he took a second to do it— his hand faltered a little as he slowed down, and he ended up holding his cock much too tight… surely trying to hold himself back from coming still. "You wanted me to touch you, didn't you?"

"Yes," he gasped, eyes getting wide with hope. "Yes! Please, Mistress! I swear I'll be good…"

"Then let go of your cock and let me take care of you, baby," you cooed. Again, he took a second to do it— still trying to make sure he wouldn't come when he wasn't choking the life out of it. Hissing as he let go, he dropped his head back with the sweetest moan as you gave him one slow stroke from the base to the tip. "Good job, baby," you whispered to him, "you're my good boy, aren't you?"

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his exposed neck, and nodded hastily.

When his cock twitched in your hand, you figured it was just because he was so sensitive— but then, halfway into your second stroke, he gasped and suddenly began to come. You noticed it in his face first, the way he scrunched his nose and let out a low groan; then there was hot, sticky come shooting over his chest and stomach— and ruining that nice white shirt.

You pulled your hand away instantly, giving his face the hardest slap you could; he cried out in pain, but he just kept coming and bucking his hips into nothing.

"You pathetic, stupid boy!" you scolded, and he groaned. "I gave you one stroke, and you came?!”

You said it in past tense, but he was still coming, whining through his teeth and blinking quickly with those long lashes of his. He looked so sweet— but you knew that he knew he was utterly fucked. “I-I’m sorry,” he breathed, groaning one more time and going limp onto the bed beneath him as his cock gave one more weak flex. “I’m sorry, Mistress, I’m sorry…”

You watched him pant for a moment, almost losing your train of thought when you saw just how pretty he was.

Unfortunately for him, it gave you an interesting idea.

Loosening his tie, you slipped it off around his head; he blinked his eyes open and scrunched up his brows with confusion. “What are you…?” he asked, though he seemed to figure it out when you gave him a certain look: he instantly held out his wrists for you, and you smiled proudly.

You didn’t just tie them together, though— you tied them to the headboard, keeping his hands bound above his head as you grinned and leaned down over him. “What am I gonna do with you, puppy?” you cooed in a sweet-but-concerning way.

Chuckling nervously, he answered, “that’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

You ran one finger over his cock, following the line a final drop of come had left down the shaft, and he hissed in a breath through his teeth. “So sensitive,” you noticed; he tensed up, like he was catching on.

When you licked a stripe up his shaft with the tip of your tongue, his gaze darkened and his mouth went slack. “I— I don’t—” he stammered, clearly conflicted with his desire for you and his fleeting logic telling him this was going to hurt. “I don’t think I can… take it…”

You’d never done this to him before, but you couldn’t stop yourself: looking up at his flushed face to see his reaction, you enveloped his head with your lips.

He let out a high, desperate moan as you suckled his swollen tip; “M-Mistress, fuck, I— oh my god—”

You looked up at him, but his head was tilted back too far to see you. You slid your mouth down further, stroking his base with your hand, until you were gagging on him and he was writhing beneath you wildly.

“Oh my god, fuck! Fuck, fuck— I… god your mouth is warm…”

You pulled off of him, partially to give him a bit of a break and partially so you could keep talking to him. Then again, it wasn’t much of a break since you kept stroking him, letting your spit and his come smooth your movements, sure to focus on that poor overstimulated tip. “It’s not too much for you, is it? My good boy can take it, right?”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” he promised, though he didn’t sound that confident. It sounded like what he really meant was I’m gonna try my best to take it.

“And aren’t you so thankful that Mistress is so nice to you, sucking your cock even though you don’t deserve it?”

“Fuck, of course,” he panted, “thank yo—oh fuck, fuck—”

You threw him off by taking him down as far as you could in the middle of his sentence, but he still had his manners.

“Thank you!” he yelped, starting to shudder more violently. “Th-thank you, so much, fuck, you’re perfect—”

When you pulled off again, he sighed with relief yet followed your mouth with a buck of his hips. “Does it hurt, or does it feel good?” you wondered.

“I— it’s— both,” he choked.

“I bet you wished I would suck your cock someday, didn’t you?” you pressed, and he instantly nodded and whined through his teeth as you licked all over the tip with a wide tongue. He gasped as you licked right over the slit.

“Fuck, I did— god, I— oh…”

Poor thing couldn’t get many words out in a row, he kept losing it every time you hollowed out your cheeks and swirled your tongue. And then you gave his balls a firm squeeze, and he made a sound you thought you might’ve never heard him make before.

“Mistress, please, please,” he begged breathlessly, moaning louder as you bobbed your head up and down. You couldn’t tell if he was begging for more or for relief, and honestly, you expected he didn’t know either.

You kept going for a few more minutes of that before his cries of pain got a little too intense— then you pulled away, and replaced your mouth with a hand stroking him as fast as you could. He still sobbed, of course, and dropped his head back again between his restrained arms.

“Fuck, s’too much,” he breathed, “just slow down…”

“I can’t, sweet boy— I need you to come again for me,” you encouraged.

“I— fuck, Mistress— I—” he stammered, and you could tell he was trying to stop himself from saying I can’t. He couldn’t bear to disappoint you twice.

“Can you do that for me, baby?” you cooed, making him look at you with the widest, wettest eyes. “Can you show me you’re still my good boy?”

“F-fuck, yes, okay,” he panted, “I’ll… I’ll come for you, just don’t stop, please…”

“I won’t stop, puppy, not until we’ve got every drop of come out of you,” you promised.

He should’ve known you took ‘every drop’ very seriously. Though he came after just another minute of stroking him like this, you still didn’t stop. When he cried out and tugged on his own tie holding him down, you didn’t stop. “Fuck!” he yelped. “Please, I can’t— I can’t!”

“Shh, yes you can,” you encouraged, though your free hand holding him down by the neck did more to keep him in place. “C’mon, be my good boy, gimme one more.”

He kept trying to squirm away, though, and his wrists were pulling hard on that necktie— he was probably going to ruin it.

“Stop fighting so much,” you warned him firmly. “Just be my good boy and fucking take it, come on— the fuck are you good for if you can’t do what I tell you to?”

“S-sorry,” he barely managed to get out, you almost didn’t hear it over the sound of his feet kicking all over the satin sheets.

“You don’t wanna get in trouble, do you? Don’t you wanna show me you know how to do what you’re told?” you kept taunting him, glancing down and seeing how red and weepy his cock was getting— you knew he wasn’t much further off from coming again.

“Yes, yes, fuck, I’m sorry,” he spoke hoarsely through the pressure you were putting on his neck.

“The sooner you come, the sooner it stops, puppy,” you informed him, gripping his cock even tighter as he hissed in breaths through his teeth. “Just come for me one more time…”

All he could do was lick his lips and nod; you let go of his neck, wanting to hear every broken moan he made. With his eyes shut tight and his nose scrunched up, he finally came with a long and wavering grunt— that was what you were waiting for, the sound of total relief. You slowed your movements down to a stop, smiling as you watched his cock give just two small pumps of come that dripped onto the ends of his shirt… it flexed weakly a few more times after that, but clearly he was beyond spent.

“Good job,” you praised softly, “you did so good for me… look what a mess you made…”

If you were feeling really mean you’d make him clean that all up, but something told you it was best to stop now… that ‘something’ being your watch. You’d stayed twenty minutes late and you were probably going to piss off your next client by being significantly tardy, especially considering you had to change first; you hoped you could chalk it up to some mindfuck dominance thing, walk in and say Mistress is never late, I always get here when I want to, if you were sitting around waiting for me that just shows how pathetic you are or something.

As you thought about that, you reached up and released the tie around Robert’s hands; he didn’t jump to rub his wrists, or flex his fingers into fists to bring some feeling back. He just let them fall limply at either side of him.

Though it was a small difference, it worried you— as did his silence. Normally he was all over you with praises by now, thanking you for everything, telling you he couldn’t wait to see you again.

“Was it a good session?” you asked him gently, letting him know it was over— he didn’t need to ‘perform’ anymore. You still felt like you needed to, though.

He worried you with the continued silence, though, just catching his breath and keeping his eyes shut; just when you thought you might check again that he was okay, he nodded quickly and hoarsely insisted, “Yeah, m’fine.”

“Not too much for you?” you asked nervously, watching him shake his head— but his lip was shaking, too. He was still crying, and you could tell it wasn’t like the whiny tears from before: he was holding back from bursting into sobs. You interrupted the silence with a whispered Robert? and he collapsed; folding in on himself, he curled into a ball on the bed and shook as he cried. Your eyes went wide as you realized you were absolutely in over your head.

Aftercare was generally not part of the deal. Most of your clients didn’t want it— they preferred to process whatever they needed to alone, after you left— and the rest just had to suck it up, though they never made much of a fuss. This felt like a real situation, and you felt guilty leaving now, but worried you’d only make it worse or break your own rules if you intervened somehow.

“I’m gonna give you some time,” you offered as you sat up— like ditching him now was a courtesy. Of course, as you expected (from him, specifically), he reached out for you.

“Please stay,” he begged— still heavily in his submissive mindset, it seemed, and sniffling pathetically. “Please, please—”

“Your time’s up,” you informed him flatly.

“Anything,” he whimpered, “name your price.”

“It’s— it’s not about the money, Robert,” you sighed. “It’s just unprofessional.”

“But I need you,” he breathed, and your heart twisted. “You can’t leave me like this, I just— I just need you to—”

Relenting, you sat back down on the bed; he instantly wrapped his arms around you, buried his face in your chest, and pulled you down with him.

Though it took you a moment, you went ahead and wrapped your arms around him in return, hoping to soothe him. “I’m sorry,” he said, though you struggled to make it out at first until he kept repeating it.

“It’s okay,” you replied softly, rubbing his back and looking down at the mess of brown hair shaking with each sob. “It’s okay, baby, you did really good… I didn’t— I wasn’t trying to go very hard on you, I mean, I’ve made you come a lot more than that before.”

“Not that,” he choked, finally pulling his face up to let you see and hear him better. Your heart broke seeing how overwhelmed he really was. “I just… I really don’t wanna disappoint you…”

In retrospect, maybe you should’ve known it would be too much for him— or maybe it was something about today, it just hit the wrong way, you couldn’t be sure. It didn’t really matter, in the end.

You sat up a bit, and he followed you, as you sighed and held his face.

“Robert, I was just— that wasn’t real,” you promised. “I needed something, you know, to work with. I just wanted you to prove your loyalty— I was never angry with you.”

“I know,” he croaked, though he was calming a bit already, “I know that, but I— it felt like it. Nobody else tells me what I’m supposed to do, you know— only you do that. I need that. Then I can know I’m doing what I’m supposed to… you’re the only person I can’t let down.”

Biting your lip for a second, you reached out to touch his chest through the half-unbuttoned shirt, but he pulled away suddenly.

“I know what this is,” he said, suddenly sounding a bit more normal again— almost clinical, actually. “I know this is your job.”

“Well… yeah,” you mumbled; obviously he knew that. You tried to understand what he was really saying to you.

“I know… none of it’s real,” he added, looking away.

Gently, you turned his face back to yours, wiping a tear from his cheek with your thumb. “I really am proud of you,” you whispered, moving closer to him on the bed.

He held your face, then, too; and he put his other hand on your waist, moving even closer to you. “Please…” he began, and though the word was overwhelmingly familiar, you were sure you’d never heard him say it like that before. “Please, let me kiss you.”

You kissed him first, feeling one more tear roll down his face as he pulled you closer and pressed your body to his.

The kiss was soft at first, still a little teary; the way he held you was incredibly tender but with a lightly-suppressed neediness behind it… his fingers would tighten at your waist sometimes and you could tell he wanted to just force you against him. You’d let him, if he wanted to, but he was probably too weak after all that.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, reaching to hold onto his shoulders and squeeze them. “I’m so sorry, baby—”

“No,” he breathed against your lips, barely stopping the kiss to speak, “no— no, you’re perfect—”

“Stop it,” you mumbled, pushing him away slightly. “I’m not. I fucked up. I went too hard on you.”

“I— I could’ve safeworded, I just didn’t… I don’t know,” he shook his head before leaning it onto your shoulder. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

You laughed a little as you combed your fingers through his hair, letting your nails gently scratch his scalp. “No, I just get paid to call you pathetic. You’re so strong…”

“No, I’m not,” he promised, his voice oddly firm and stable for how weepy the words could’ve come off. “I’m not— not even strong enough to… to end this.”

You froze up, looking at him with wide eyes as he pulled his face up close to yours.

“It’s not right anymore,” he whispered to you, cradling your cheek in his palm; god, his hands were warm. “You know it, don’t you? You can tell. You can tell I broke the fucking rules.”

“Don’t tell me, after all this bullshit,” you managed to laugh bitterly, “you really are dating one of those fucking models— or both—”

“Not that rule, fuck,” he coughed, “no— I fucking fell for you.”

You blinked quickly, forcing yourself to believe you misheard him. “You—?”

“I fell in love with you.”

“No— Robert, you don’t even know me,” you insisted, looking away.

“I want to! God, I want to,” he groaned, “it’s all I think about: what you must be like when you’re not, you know, on the clock. What turns you on, what ticks you off, what… fuck, what you eat for breakfast! Anything.”

“Then you don’t love me,” you informed him, “you love the idea. You love the… mystery. You don’t really want to know me, I promise.”

“You don’t love a mystery because you want it to stay that way,” he laughed, rubbing your shoulders— only then did you notice your own eyes were getting teary. You really didn’t want him to see you that way, but you didn’t have much choice now. “You love a mystery because you can’t wait to get to the ending and figure it all out! I just wanna know you— you’re a page-turner.”

“Okay, the metaphor is a little tired now,” you rolled your eyes, but you sniffled and tried to hide your face.

“Hey,” he whispered, petting your head, toying with your hair for a moment with his fingers. “I know you can’t keep going on with me, now that I said that. I know this is gonna have to be goodbye. But I… I think goodbye is still less painful than having to be this close to you but so far away. I’m sorry… I thought I was strong enough for this.”

Get out now. Get out now. The advice echoed in your head. If you’re catching feelings, get out now and definitely do not tell him you’re falling for him too— no don’t you fucking dare bitch— “It’s not goodbye,” you blurted out. “I’m not strong enough for that.”

When you dared to look at him, his eyes were full of hope.

“God, you look fucked up,” you noticed with a laugh, your eyes scanning his ruined suit. “C’mon, let’s get you in the bath.”

There was plenty of room in this bathtub, more than any one person could need— plenty for you to have your own space. But, of course, Robert kept you close to him, your chest against his back as he ran his hands over your skin under the water.

“For breakfast? I don’t know, I guess I have toast a lot, if I remember it,” you chuckled. “My mornings are pretty busy.”

“Any pet peeves?” he asked.

“Uh, people who don’t use earbuds on public transport,” you decided.

“Ah,” he nodded. “That sounds irritating. I, um, haven’t been on public transport…”

You rolled your eyes, but you giggled, too.

“If you could only wear one color for the rest of your life, what would it be?” he prompted.

You turned over, splashing the water a bit, so you could look up at him. “Is this interrogation ever gonna end? The water’s getting cold.”

“Well, so far, the more I know, the more I wanna know, so…” he trailed off. “Guess we’re gonna be in here ‘til I solve the mystery, hm?”

You laughed, but he pulled you into another kiss— more energetic than before, but still sweet, still a little hungry. When you pulled back, he leaned in and kissed your neck instead. “I think we could be here all night and still have a lot left to cover,” you warned him.

“I can afford all night,” he shrugged.

As tempted as you were to take him up on that, you had to accept that that element of the arrangement was over now. “I’m not gonna charge you,” you admitted, making him break away from your skin to look up at you. “You wanted to learn what I’m like off the clock, right?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling you a little closer until you straddled his lap in the water. “I wanna learn whatever I can.”

“Well, here’s something you should’ve figured out a lot sooner,” you offered, running your fingers over his jaw until you gently held his chin, making him look up at you with this sweet, pouty, needy look on his face. “I fell for you, too.”

#whoops how did feelings get in there?#not sure how that happened #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut

2K notes · View notes

uglyducklingofthe2000s · 1 month

Text

The Pressure of a Crumbling World - LN

Summary: After Lando's girlfriend gives birth, there's complications that leave Lando torn. But a promise before labour means Lando finds himself at a race weekend leaving his girlfriend in the hospital and their baby needing him to step up in a way he didn’t quite expect.

No part 2 requests please

It didn't feel real, even recollecting the moments of the past 12 minutes didn't feel real.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be. He was supposed to be getting beautiful pictures of their daughter and y/n together. He's supposed to be enjoying their first moments as a little family.

Not sitting in a cold corridor after being rather aggressively pushed from her side when she went grey and stop responding.

"Mr Norris-"

"Is she ok? Can I see her?"

"Y/n haemorrhaged badly. They've taken her in for emergency surgery." The midwife explains making her sit back down in defeat. "But you have a baby girl, who I think you should meet."

A baby girl.

He'd cut the chord, heard her cry and caught a glimpse before rushing to tell y/n how beautiful she is. She was meant to be getting handed to y/n when things suddenly went north so quickly.

They'd went into the birth not wanting to know the gender because it was just more fun that way.

"Yeah-yeah, sorry."

"Don't apologise, Mr Norris...these things are never easy but we are here to support all three of you however you need."

He doesn't want to need to be supported. He wants to be happy and to celebrate the birth of their daughter with his girlfriend.

When he walks into the nursery, there's a lot of babies there, some asleep, some crying and his little girl is just lying there, big blue eyes look around.

"Can I-Can I hold her? Is she ok?" Lando chokes out feeling guilty that he'd not thought to rush to her but his mind had been so caught up in y/n not being ok that he couldn't think of anything else.

"Of course you can hold her and she is perfect. Healthy weight, no problems and so far all the tests are exactly what we want to see. We're waiting on the results of a couple others but it shouldn't be long and I don't think they'll be any scares."

"Would she need to stay?" Lando questions making the nurse frown for a moment.

"We usually place babies in with mum, but...I don't see a reason that you couldn't take baby girl home by tomorrow."

Lando has to restrain himself from asking what the time frame might be for y/n. He does't want to get an answer that might just destroy him.

"Mr Norris, I assure you that y/n is in the best hands and being given the best care. I'm confident you will all be home as a family." The midwife assures him. "Do you know what you and y/n wanted to name baby Norris?"

"Yeah. Ah, y/n wanted to call her Odessa (this is actually on my baby name list and I'm not sorry for it)." Lando recalls them smiling. "She probably had some middle name that she didn't tell me about but Odessa is the first name."

Despite the surgery going well, y/n hadn't woken up in the three days following and the doctors just couldn't answer as to when she would wake up.

Lando had taken Odessa home and with a lot of help, learned to take care of the newborn. But he spent morning, noon and evening with y/n by her side. Lying Odessa on her mum's chest which seemed to bring the baby more comfort than he'd ever achieved with her.

A new dilemma was coming, Lando has a race weekend in 4 days. It's not far really. It's the Hungary race. So from Monaco, a couple hours by jet.

Still not ideal and he's put his foot down about leaving Odessa without him.

"Travelling with a newborn isn't easy." The midwife states. "Flying won't be easy."

"I can drive, it's not the longest drive so long as I know I need to drive." Lando mumbles, it'll be a long drive but equally it can be done in one day if necessary."

And that was the conversation done.

They ended up giving him the ok to fly so long as someone was onboard who could confidently check the baby was ok. So Lando ended up bringing the midwife with them. But she was essentially getting a free holiday because Lando was insistent that he could handle everything.

Odessa does manage well and when Lando is helped by Jon to get her into a carrier.

The news had broke out a matter of two days after the disastrous birth. The media and fans have been sending love and best wishes to Lando and y/n for days now.

"Feels secure?" Jon asks since making Lando check all the straps, tugging lightly just to be sure.

"Yeah, we're good."

Lando has essentially decided that unless he's getting ready for the car or is in the car, then Odessa will be with him.

He's also got y/n's mum sending half hourly updates on y/n, who still shows now change. Much to his frustration.

Not that he's upset at her but he's just upset that she isn't waking up. She's showing brain activity, she's healing, she's just not waking up.

"Oh my gosh, is this Odessa?" Naomi asks as Lando appears, having agreed to fully commit himself to the media duties. "She's beautiful, Lando."

"Thank you." Lando smiles while stroking a hand over the sleeping baby's hair which is just peaking out. "I'd say I think she's enjoying herself. But she sleeps 20 hours of the day."

"And cries the other 4?" Jenson jokes since they're all trying to keep it light-hearted. "It's nice you can bring her here, she's a week old now right?"

"Yeah-yeah. She's a week old today."

"And getting to witness her first F1 race. A very lucky baby." Jenson smiles earning a nod. "Even if she sleeps through it."

"Knowing my luck, she won't." Lando laughs then hugging her tightly. "I'm glad she's here though. She's going to be glued to me unless I'm in the car."

"That's great to hear, I'm sure this early exposure to motorsport will have her with an immediate love. Even if she doesn't know what it is." Naomi laughs earning a nod from Lando.

They do manage to shift the conversation away from the baby on his chest and to the race itself.

It's later during some stretches with Jon where Odessa has been placed into a little bouncer seat to that he makes a comment.

"You know, I had my doubts about you being able to do very well as a dad. But you really are...amazing."

Lando doesn't comment as he's released from his necessary stretches. Mumbling something about needing to change Odessa.

"I'm just glad my mum and dad are here to watch Odessa while I'm in the garage or on track." Lando states, not that he's got to see much of his parents. There's been a lot of fuss over him.

After all the media eat up everything they can especially off track stories.

Lando smiles looking down as Odessa who's big blue eyes have quickly become Lando's new favourite thing in the world. She's always looking at him. But it always feels shit.

He should get to fall in love with Odessa with y/n and he knows she's going to wake up and never forgive herself for missing the first week, or however much she misses.

"My gorgeous girl." Lando smiles then leaning down to kiss her nose once she's redressed. "I want to feed her before I'm out on track."

"No problem."

Y/n groans waking up, her body feeling heavy and just aching. She feels weak.

"Lando?"

"Y/n! Nurse! Nurse! She's awake!" Her mum's screechy voice which makes her brain pulse with a new pain.

"Mum?"

"Oh my poor baby." Her mum hiccups as y/n tries to sit up. "Oh y/n."

"What's going on what-where's the baby?"

Her brain is slowly recollecting memories. Piecing things together. All she remembers is glimpses of Lando beaming at their baby and the crying, then everything went black. What the hell happened?

"Lando has her, oh y/n she's so beautiful."

"What? Where? Where does he have her? Is she-She?" Y/n chokes out realising it's a baby girl. "How long have I been asleep?"

"A week...well-8 days this is the 9th. Lando took her to Hungary, he didn't trust anyone with her if it wasn't you-I tried to offer but he was having none of it. Took the midwife with him for security but he's bene getting-oh my gosh-what are you doing?"

"I'm going to Hungary! That's my baby! And-And I've missed enough of her life. Where is the-Nurse! I need-Doctor! Please, I need all of this off of me."

Y/n's mum begins to panic at her daughter ripping sensors and almost ripping her IV out in a careless move but she stops short thinking better of it.

"Where's my phone? Is he on track?" Y/n questions feeling overwhelmed by it all.

"Miss y/l/n, you must rest."

"Rest? I need to be on the next flight to Hungary. Rest." Y/n scoffs while her mum watches helplessly.

Lando got the phone call as y/n was in a car to the airport.

"Y/n?" Lando chokes out.

"Are you insane?" Y/n questions making Lando almost want to laugh. "Don't even answer that, I know you're insane. I'm flying over, I'll be like 3 hours. Possibly more if my mum doesn't calm down from having heart palpitations."

Her words at the end at clearly directed at the woman nearby who he has no doubts is stressed.

"Y/n, you shouldn't be out of hospital-"

"I don't think you're listening. I don't think anyone is fucking listening to me." Y/n mutters clearly also speaking to herself with that last part. "I'm discharged from hospital, I'm in the airport and I'm flying over on the next flight whether I die in the air. I'm not staying here...you have our baby there."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just...they didn't know when you would wake up." Lando chokes out feeling too happy to hear her voice to care all that much that she's so upset. "She's so beautiful, y/n."

It's a Saturday, so Lando is under no threat of needing to panic about the race.

Safe to say, the sight of y/n in the paddock marching through with her mother stumbling behind her. She's on a mission and she has no intention to care for herself or anyone who gets in herself.

"Y/n, please slow down. You're still healing." Her mum tries but there's nothing stopping y/n until she stops very suddenly and her mum actually slams into the back of her. "Oh honey."

Lando is stood outside the unit, having been awaiting y/n's arrival. There's already tears streaming down y/n's cheeks at the sight of her tiny baby, bundled up and strapped to Lando's chest but seeing her he begins to get the baby from the carrier.

"Go on honey." Her mum whispers rubbing her back.

Y/n wipes at her eyes quickly sniffling and hiccuping as she closes the space and smiles kissing Lando a couple times first before accepting the hold of Odessa.

"Oh my gosh." Y/n breathes out holding Odessa closely while Lando smiles at the two. "I'm sorry."

"No. Don't even dare." Lando frowns shaking his head then cupping her face and wiping at the tears. "These better be happy tears."

"Can we go inside?" Y/n sniffles earning a nod before she kisses the top of Odessa's head softly.

Lando guides her inside and smiles she sits down just beaming down at their daughter.

"You called her Odessa?" Y/n smiles earning a nod.

"Yeah, I did." Lando confirms then sighing. "Odessa Norris. She's already been duped as a future F1 driver, the most beautiful baby ever and everyone loves her. Obviously."

"I'm sorry for being mad at you for taking her...I'd rather she be with you than anyone else." Y/n mumbles then sighing softly, not taking her eyes off of Odessa. "And I'm sorry you had to do it on your own."

"I wanted to do it with you or on my own. She's our baby."

"Still." Y/n sighs then rubbing her face with one hand. "It shouldn't have been a situation you were in."

"Hey." Lando frowns hooking his finger under her chin to force her gaze up to look at him. "Y/n, it's not your fault-it's not anyone's fault. But even if someone was at fault. It would not be you. You hear me?"

"I hear you." Y/n mumbles, but she doesn't sound or look convinced.

"I love you."

"I love you too. I love both of you."

Lando smiles before sighing when he sees some of his team awaiting him.

"I have to get out for practice."

"Go on, we'll be just fine here." Y/n smiles then kissing him softly as he leans down over her. "We'll be just fine, won't we?"

Lando smiles just finally getting to see y/n with Odessa is the best thing he's ever seen. and he's not sure that anything will beat the sight.

"Lando. Quali was good, that's a P3. You seem to have been rejuvenated. Can we ask...we saw a certain someone who looked...possibly a bit disheveled but I think I speak for everyone we were happy to see y/n."

"Yeah, yeah. She actually came straight from the hospital." Lando smiles softly before he sighs. "I definitely felt better having her here. Though I will be having words about the fact she travelled less than 2 hours after waking up from a coma. I'll think I'll wait to give her a lecture on it."

"And how is little Odessa?"

"She's amazing, I think much happier to be with her mum than to be with me really. But I can't hold that against her." Lando joeks since he would prefer y/n's company to anyone else's although Odessa is proving to be harsh competition.

Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @harrysdimple05 @mellowarcadefun @cixrosie @scopeiguess

680 notes · View notes

sunshine-zenith · 10 months

Text

A thought — Ballister and Ambrosius’s relationship probably wasn’t public in the movie until the end. They probably weren’t secretive about it, given how Todd (someone neither of them like or would confide in) was clearly antagonistic to Ambrosius after Ballister’s jailbreak, but even then that just might be because their connection was well known — they liked each other more than any of the knights liked them, most being neutral overall to Ambrosius and outright bullies to Ballister. No one in the public seems to know about them

Media perception is a reoccurring factor in the movie, with the opening scene giving exposition in the form of a news cast. During it, Ballister is shown to be controversial, with a there being a few comments questioning the Queen’s choices related to him. Ambrosius is also brought up as someone everyone’s looking forward to seeing officially knighted, with no one questioning his relationship with Ballister or even bringing it up

While everyone is fearing and hating Ballister after the Queen dies, Ambrosius is still popular among the masses — people stop him in the streets to get his autograph. Nimona, who admittedly probably didn’t do much digging into Ballister beyond the initial news reports on the Queen’s deaths, seemed surprised that Ballister and Ambrosius had a connection. She even had an “ohhhhhh” moment after picking up on their vibe the first time they saw each other post-arm chop (and yeah she initially calls Ambrosius Ballister’s nemesis, but she clearly clocks that something romantic was going on given the “arm chopping is not a love language!” comment). She also asks if he wants to die in a (literal) closet, which like. Y’all.

Before the Queen’s death, all their PDA is in private (on the catwalk) or subtly around other knights (helping each other put on their armor with lots of heart eyes and lingering hands). Otherwise, their interactions are those of Two People Who Are Close but aren’t necessarily explicitly romantic (Ambrosius wanting to throw hands on Ballister’s behalf, teasing each other, Ambrosius cheering with the crowd). Granted, there wasn’t a lot of screen time for them to just be happy before Everything Went Wrong.

We can’t really judge whether they were private from their interactions after the Queen’s death, since most are focused on a “so this traumatic thing happened and I don’t know where we stands right now” vibe or have them just fighting. The three times Ambrosius says he loves Ballister, one was just the two of them on the catwalk, one was in a mental rant and not actually out loud, and one was while they were trying to hide their identities. Ballister continues to defend Ambrosius, saying he’d believe them if they could just talk and that the arm thing is just “complicated,” “part of their training, up until Ambrosius outright tries to arrest them (which might as well be a breakup without saying “we’re breaking up”).

In the comic, the Director says she knew about their relationship and that she disapproved. Given how much she manipulates things, it wouldn’t surprise me if she knew in the movie, and encouraged them to downplay things at least — “you should keep your private lives private so you don’t taint your public images/yes we support you, obviously, but you’re here to protect the people, not show off to them/you don’t want to overshadow things with more controversy, wait a few years until after you’re knighted/what if this is just a phase, it would be a mess to clean up if you go public now/people will talk if they hear Gloreth’s only current descendant, a promising young man, is being courted by someone they aren’t certain about who comes from nothing and can’t pass your genes on/you have each other, shouldn’t that be enough?/etc.”

We don’t see them be in a relationship publicly until after the wall — the symbol of fear of the unknown, systematic abuse and oppression, refusal to learn and grow, and let’s be real homophobia/transphobia — comes down and the Director — the one going to murderous extremes out of fear of change — is dead

I dunno. This movie is a large celebration of being queer, but it’s also about how queer people are demonized by society to the point of everyone suffering. Ambrosius is the model minority everyone loves but no one knows because all eyes are on him; Ballister is both tokenized and targeted from the moment the public meets him, having to prove himself over and over until the public unquestionably turns on him entirely; and Nimona is called a monster for just being herself. All three already had to hide who they really were. I’m not 100% sure if Ballister and Ambrosius were out or not about being together, but it’s not a stretch to see, and it fits in with the themes/arcs of this movie

#this is a mess #nimona #nimona movie #spoilers #ballister blackheart #ballister boldheart #ballister x ambrosius #ambrosius goldenloin #the sun shines #meta #cy meta #long post #broke 100 #broke 500 #broke 1000

1K notes · View notes

romeosharpae · 9 months

Text

“FOUR MONTHS”

theodore nott x reader

(Yes after one year I'm back with toxic Theodore Nott). You don't have to read part one..

Warnings; Possessive behavior, manipulation, toxic relationships, mentions of obsession, mature sex scenes, unprotected sex, rough sex, swearing, smoking, degradation (Not a lot), theodore nott × female feader, toxic! theodore nott

parts: 1,

There was something in the air this morning, a soothing feeling that made you a little more peppy. So as you skipped to the great hall, books clutched tightly to your chest, a small smile couldn’t help but to be on your lips.

It was the winter — your favorite season, so perhaps that was the reason for your sudden happiness this morning. You’d even wore a little grin through transfiguration, your least favorite class at Hogwarts.

But you were a happy girl generally, nice to everyone who crossed your path. You helped little first years avoid experiencing the wrath of Draco Malfoy. You also helped professors (For sure not Mcgonagal) help clean up after compliance lessons.

That’s just who you are.

“You look pretty today,” Is what Hermione Granger, your best friend, greets you with as you took a seat aside her. No you weren’t a Gryffindor — but you often found yourself sitting at the orange and red more than your own.

“Yeah, I like what you’ve done to your hair.” Harry Potter lowly added in with a sly smile, and you simply reflected it. Ron Weasley, who was aside Hermione let out a little snort in response to his best friend’s attempt to flirt.

Harry Potter – the boy who lived, the boy who everyone without any sort of spite or jealousy in their body adores. Sometimes you even found yourself admiring him — considering him as a form of replacement from your last fling.

“Thank you both,” You giggled,

“Well, I’m happy that your happy, Y/L/N” Hermione declared with a smile, “You see how much happier you are now? Compared to when you allowed that psycho to contr--"

And just like that, there was a damper in your happy mood.

Hermione always made extremely bold comments about your previous unhealthy relationship with Theodore Nott; Which is probably why he hated the fact you two were friends, not because she was a muggle. Truthfully, she’s the one that hyped you up to end things with him — but as you more think of it, she forced you too.

Because despite everything the tall raging brunette put you through, you still found your self right underneath him with a dizzy smile. But that hasn’t happened in four months, not since the day he dragged you out of the party. Shivers roll down your spin as you remember the events that happened that day,

You’ve got fourth months with his touch, without his complications.

And despite missing Theodore some nights, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a breath of fresh air. Like the air didn’t feel lighter without him breathing down your neck about showing any other male besides him attention – without him declaring that despite his lack of commit now, you’ll be baring his children later.

You recall how hearing those words made you feel months ago — Well, it did make you finish, but that’s completely besides the point — it finally made you realize that Theodore Not didn’t actually love you.

And neither did he want anyone else too.

Not because he loved you, but because had a unhinged obsession for you. The more you thought of it, the more you realized how clear Theo’s behavior displayed fixation.

How did you not realize it back in first year when he got seriously angry with Blaise Zabini for trying to be your friend?

It makes your stomach twist to think that you and Theodore's friendship was build off of an obsession – one that clearly grew worse as the years progressed.

"You alright over there, Y/L/N?" Ron questioned reluctantly,

You pulled yourself out of your thoughts, turning to him with a small awkward smile across your lips, "Yes I'm fine, just got a little distracted, that's all."

"You always seem to suddenly get distracted when I bring up Nott." Hermione mumble, rolling her eyes. Because you're always telling me to leave him.

Is what you wanted to say, but instead you settle for a simple shrug.

You were sitting criss-cross on an knitted blanket in front of the black lake, skimming over the newest daily prophet in your hands. The full moon reflected softly against the lake water, making you awe.

Everytime a full moon lit the sky your found yourself out here, enjoying the peace. And no one knew about it — you weren't a prefect and your house leader would kill you if they found out you were out here past hours.

Well, you thought no one knew about your secret adventures to the black lake.

It was not until the loud familiar scent of smoke filled your nostrils that you understood that someone was here also. And with the heavy cologne that mixed with it, you didn't have to look back to know who it was.

"Leave. Me. Alone" You growled sternly, ignoring the thudding in your heart.

Of course you'd still hang with Blaise and Pasny every now and then. But when Theo walked in you immediately flee, knowing that being around him would result with him being inside of you in moments.

And your sure he knew that, which is exactly why the brunette is here. "So you don't think I've done that enough for the past four fucking months, Y/N?"

Venom dripped from Theodore's voice, and had you not been so used to Theodore being upset with the stuff you do — The coldness of his tone would have made you scared enough to jump away from him.

Your head snapped back in his direction, generally you were a nice happy girl. But during the times you weren't so sweet, it was Theodore Nott who got that wrath.

Who brought out that side of you.

"No, No." Theo's jaw clenched at your harsh words, lips parting slightly to allow smoke to slip past them. "Because I want you to leave me alone for the rest of my life."

"Did Granger help you come up with that?" Theodore snickered. There wasn't a actual thought in your brain when you rolled your daily prophet and launched it in his direction. He kissed it teeth when the parchment landed softly on his cheek.

The brunette takes another hit short of his cigarette, not giving your outburst a reaction. You stand up to your feet, preparing to collect your stuff and go back on school grounds.

He threw the cigarette on the ground, approaching you. You take a step back, not wanting to feel his touch — the touch that you have been craving for four months.

“Why does everyone get the sweet little Y/N except for me?" He cooed, eyebrows raising.

"What did I do to deserve this nasty side of you Y/L/N, huh?" Everything. "Did I not fuck you good enough last time?"

"You know it is not about that!" You defensively shouted out. Tears began pricking at the corner of your eyes, processing that the only thing you are to him is a fuck. "--You know that it's never been about that!"

You had like Theodore since third year, immediately awed with the matured boy that he became over the summer. And Theo knew your feelings for him — in fact, you told Theo about your feelings right before you had sex for the first time — he just didn't care.

He stared down at you, beautiful eyes glistening underneath the moon light. For a moment you swear you see pity flash in his eyes.. or maybe regret?

It makes you frown — You didn't want Theodore to pity you. It made you feel weak, always finding yourself with him when your in your weakness moments. Because despite his blunt toxic behavior, before your separation, Theodore always is there when you fail a test you study hard for or had complications with your family – He's the shoulder that you lean on, and the root of your problems.

“I miss you"

Something about those words fueled your feelings more, anger bubbling higher. "No you don't Theodore, you miss having me wrapped around your finger."

That regret.. or pity fades away quickly, replaced with anger in seconds.

“Do you even know how many girls I have wrapped around my finger, Y/N?" His mean tone makes you let a small sob. "How many girls wish upon stars that I had the feelings for them that I do you?!" Theodore takes this moment to grab your chin, yanking you closer to him before you got a chance to stop him. He hovers over you, fingers digging into the flesh of your skin. Blue eyes looking down at you like your prey he's prepared to fight for.

“You don't really care about me!"

"Shut up." He growled.

His mouth attacks yours in a feral manner, making you gasp loudly. The faint taste of his chapstick spreads is in your mouth,

And being that naive girl you are, you welcomed his lips eagerly. The hairs of your skin stood up fully, mind becoming foggy while Theodore desperately slides his tongue into your mouth. It makes you sob out louder, tears slipping from your eyes.

Hermione would be so mad if she knew how easily you allowed him in — The lack of fight that you put up with Theo. But you tried, you really did for four entire months..

You really tried your best too stay away from the boy that you loved so deeply.

“I--T--" Is what you choked out moments before Theodore hand slides to the back of your throat, making the kiss much deeper and tongue sloppier. Your noses were smushed against each other — there was nothing you could make out but his scent.

You didn't exactly get to register when it happened or how it happened. But someway, probably with magic, you ended underneath Theodore on your blanket.

Without wasting another second Theodore hooks his finger into the waist band of your shorts and underwear. "Why is things always so complicated with you?"

His words were harsh and the glare on his beautifully structured pale face makes you cry out even harder. The pad of his thumb catches one of your tears when it falls,

“Y/N Why can't you understand that this is perfect?" He wondered bluntly. His eyes look down at your exposed area, "That this is where you should be, with me."

“No--No I shouldn't--" You shouted, Theo grabbed your legs and spread them as far as they could go. "-- Your no good for me"

That makes the brunette scoff defensively – surely thinking that Hermione fed you that. But you knew it was true – If you stuck beside Theodore, you'd be mental by thirty.

A loud gasp fell from your lips when Theo pushed himself into you without any warning. Theirs something in your body that became at ease with the familiar stretch,

As if it been begging for it.

Not giving you a chance to prepare yourself, Theodore bottomed out in you. He groaned loudly as you flutter against him, practically welcoming him in you.

Theo begins snapping his hips forward at a pace that makes your eyes squeeze shut. You wish that you could hate him,

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter.." He finally responded to your comment. The loose curls of his hair brushed against your forehead as Theo leaned down, lips grazing softly against yours. A high pitched whimper left your lips at every thrust he gave you, an hot pain spreading inside in your lower half. Yet you couldn't stop your hips from jumping up, begging for more. “I'm good right now, aren't I?" He mocked,

His tongue invaded your mouth, like he's attempting to swallow your face whole. You kissed back instantly, tongue lapping over his as you both moaned.

Some moments you wished to know what Theodore was thinking when the two of you were together — and other times you didn't, not actually wanting to be right about his lack of love towards you.

His mouth left yours, spit following suit. Instead he began sucking on the skin of your new and chest, leaving bruises. "Mine." Theo growled, squeezing your breast.

You just shook your head frantically at his possessive words, not being able to form a literal disagreement. You weren't Theodore’s.. and unfortunately he wasn't yours.

He squeezed you harder, thrust forming a harsher pace as well, knocking the wind out your chest and making you gasp.

Tears slipped from your eyes from the pleasure, and your fingers began scratching against his arms. If your mind hadn't been so fogged out, you'd be embarrassed from how fast your release caught up.

“Say you won't leave again..." Theo spoke words were stone cold and you tried ignoring them — knowing that you planned on going back into hiding from him.

His cold hand snakes up around your neck, giving it a tight squeeze that makes you squeal. Your sure he notices that your avoiding his request and perhaps that's why his hips began to move at a slower pace – But you really had not expected him to completely stop,

The was absolutely no way he was going to leave you on edge like that. As your eyes flew open you sobbed out, Theodore wore a plain expression. His light eyes were already looking directly into yours,

You attempted to take matters into your own hands by beginning to slip up his length. But Theodore, who clearly wasn't having none of it, pushed you away by your stomach, pulling out of you completely now.

"Say it, Y/N!" He slightly shook you, "Or I swear I'll leave you like this-- Say it--"

"I--I'm not gonna leave!" The words left unexpectedly from your lips. And you really wish you could say you only said it to get your release but that wouldn’t be true. “..Ever again"

Theodore smiled widely at your words, pressing his face against your neck. And you both let out a loud sigh of comfort when he slid back inside of you,

You don't even know how you lasted four months without him.

Part three>>>

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #smut #harry potter #theodore nott smut #theo nott #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fanfiction #hogwarts #lorenzo zurzolo #cherries #hp fic #hp fanfcition #hp fandom #slytherin

2K notes · View notes

teamhandsometcth · 4 months

Text

A Monégasque Story ( Part 1 ) - Charles Leclerc

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Summary of the series - Y/n is Charles' best friend little sister. They grew up together but haven't seen each other's for years. Their relationship seems to take a different turn when Charles stay at her’s and her brother's.

Warning - Both Y/n's and Charles' POV, Fem reader, Both Charles and Y/n speaking French (translated) tension, tooth rotting fluff, three years age gap, mature content, 18+, brother's best friend, friends to lovers, she felt first he felt harder...

Disclaimer : I'm French and my English is NOT perfect ⚠️ Please don't stole or repost my stories on any other sites. Btw reblogs are more then welcomed.

Here I am, laying on my best friend's parents couch after spending the last 24 hours doing exactly that plus dealing with a massive hungover.

My flight landed in Monaco three days ago, and since that, Giselle and I have been glued to each other.

We didn't get to see each other much lately, I've been so busy with my finals. And with us living in different places, Giselle in London, and me in Paris, it's complicated to match our plannings.

I called her the very moment after landing, which quickly resulted to her proposing to celebrate the start of summer break (get drunk) with our friends. And that's exactly what we did. Wish resulted to our current state.

She hand me a cup of tea for the third time this afternoon, as we're desperately trying to find a place to spend the other half of our vacation.

I sit up and slightly roll up the sleeves of my cardigan before taking the cup. "Why don't we stay simple ? I think Italy would be the perfect place. It's sunny, the food is delicious, and the men are too..." I propose, a teasing smile dancing on my lips.

She laugh and shook her head lightly. "the men part does not work as an argument for me."

I meet her gaze, a knowing expression plastered on my face. "fair enough. Although I'm kind of up for a summer flying. You know, get to think about something else than work !"

"Can't relate, I never think about work." Giselle say calmly bringing her cup to her lips. I let out a laugh at her statement.

My phone suddenly start going off. I bend over to grab it from the coffee table, trying my best not to fall off the couch.

I unlock my phone, and quickly glance at the text conversation between my brother and I.

He was asking at what time I plan to get home. I quickly tap an answer before putting my phone back down.

Two empty cups and equal number of unread messages from Raphael later. Im finally standing at the front door.

"Text me when you're home !" Gisele shout from the kitchen. "yup." I answer loudly enough for her to hear before closing the door behind me.

I live in Paris since I started college, and even if I fly back to Monte Carlos often, I still miss it here.

My parents sold out our family home two years ago, since we weren't living with them anymore. Plus, they were always talking about traveling around the world just the two of them, and how exciting it will be to have this adventure for their marriage.

Even if it broke my heart to say goodbye to this house, that hold so many of my childhood memories, im really happy for them. So now, when im back in town, I usually go to my brother's.

It take me less than 15 minutes to walk there, as I enjoy the view of the sun starting set slowly. I missed it so much. One of the thing I love the most about Monaco is how little it is, you can literally walk everywhere. Ironically enough, it's also what I hated the most about living here when I was a teenager, it seemed like my world was so little. Now I found peace in coming back here, it seems like time stop for a moment.

Once at the flat, I close the front door behind me and drop my bag on the couch.

The windows are open, letting a soft breeze dance between the sheers as the golden light from the now lot lower sun fill the living room.

I sat down on the couch, and send a quick message to Giselle to tell her I got home safe, Knowing that if I forget, she's going to come see for herself. She can be such a drama queen sometimes, and I love her for that.

I make my way toward my bedroom wanting only one thing, take a long hot shower. But as i pass the guest room a voice catch my attention.

I furrow my eyes brow as hear someone speak but it's not my brother. It sound familiar but I can't seem to remember where I heard it.

I push the door open, and my eyes directly fall on a pair of green ones. I frown, not only they seem familiar but I know exactly who own them.

And just like that, everything stop. I dive deeply into them, my breath become shorter and my mind goes back where my teenager heart installed itself years ago.

7 years earlier :

I am on the porch of my family house sitting on the staircase, my back against the gate. Observing my brother and his friends playing basket in our garden, a book with the world cheesiest cover in my hand. I was mesmerized by it, it was my first romance book ever and it made me dream of something I didn't know I wanted. Love.

As my eye travel between the pages I can't repress the big smile of pure euphoria off of my fifteen years old face.

I only detached my curious eyes off the words when I see a shadow approach. I quickly shut the book and look up, only to see Charles. "Hey." I say a little too flustered. "Hey you too, what are you reading ?" he say trying to catch the book in my hand, I try an escape but he take it from my grip with a devious smile.

I wasn't particularly ashamed of reading romance, but definitely ashamed that my crush just caught me reading it, which is so gross.

He look at the cover, with a teasing grin on his perfectly sculptured face.

"Oh I seeeee," I drop my head between my knee and let out an ashamed groan. He giggle, "Stop being so shy, im just teasing you. This is so cute honestly."

"Charles stop I don't want to speak about that with you." I tell him, ready for a hole to open under me and swallow me entirely.

He kneel in front of me, make me raise my head by taking my chin between his hand, caressing it softly. "You know you don't have to be ashamed with me, it's good." He say softly. " It's completely normal for you to find interest in that, everyone do at our age, it's called being a teenager." He laugh lightly, I do too relaxing a little.

"But seriously, if you have any questions whatever it is you can ask me, I will be happy to help you."

I blush, look down then look back up at him again. "thank you Charlie."

"Charles ?" I ask in shock.

I stand there, completely stuck in place. I literally fell my heart beating in every fibers of my skin.

He look so handsome. I take my time to look at him up and down, taking in every changes and details. Don't get me wrong, I watch formula one so I know what he look like. It's just that it's been a while since I've seen him for real.

I finally look back in his eyes, just to discover he was doing the exact same thing I was doing a second ago. He was gazing intently at every curve and part of me, like he was trying to learn every single one of them.

When his beautiful green-ish colored eyes cross my again, smiles broke on both of our faces.

"Salut," (hi ) He let out suddenly, His voice holding an inch of hesitation and shyness in it. It's so freaking cute.

I try to contain my smile, still not believing my eyes. "Salut,"

Charles is my brother's best-friend. We grew up together, and for as far as can remember, I always had a crush on him. How could I not.

It has been one sided for the most part. Till 4 years ago when he started to reciprocate, we kind of started something but not so long after, I was leaving for Paris.

Since that, we keep on missing each other. Every time im here he's out of town, and vise versa. We didn't talk during this 4 years. We just kind of got on with our lives.

"Raph m'as pas dit que tu venais. T'es arrivé quand ?" ( Raph didn't tell me you were coming, when did you get here ? ) I say in disbelief, while going for a quick hug.

"J'ai atterri ce matin. C'était pas prévu mais je vais être à Monaco pour quelles semaines." ( I landed this morning actually. It wasn't planned, but im going to be in Monaco for a couple of weeks.) Charles smile as I pull away, he look at me up and down again. It make me weak in the knees and I fell like somehow he knows it.

As I look away my gaze catch a luggage at the foot of the bed. I look back at Charles in confusion. "You're staying here ?"

Charles nod lightly "Only for a couple of days. I let one of my friend and his girlfriend crash at my place since they are in town for a couple of weeks, and I wasn't supposed to be home for a while."

He's still not taking his eyes off of me, making me melt under his gaze.

He lock eyes with me, not saying anything. I love the way he look at me, he make me fell special. He blush when he realize he was staring.

He clear his throat lightly, "I was one the phone with your brother just before you got here and he's going to be out for a while, something to do with one of the boat."

I nod, "Right, well what do you want to do meanwhile ?" I question.

He smile at me "Viens avec moi, j'ai besoin d'aide pour défaire mes bagages." ( Come with me, I need help with unpacking. ) he say his hand delicately going on the small of my back slightly pushing me toward his luggage.

We start to unpack, Charles stand by the drawer, as im siting on the bed passing him his clothes. Catching up on what happened in our lives lately.

"J'ai hâte de la rencontrer, je suis sur qu’elle a des super pouvoirs. J'ai jamais vu Raph s'attacher autant à quelqu'un avant." ( Im actually quite impatient to meet this girl, im sure she have super powers. I've never seen Raph head over heels over someone before. )

I nod at him smiling at the thought "Il l'est vraiment. Et c'est vrai qu'elle est incroyable" ( Yeah, he really his. And she is pretty amazing I might add.) here he his again looking at me ready to tease me.

"Je suis certain que tu dis pas ça juste parce que c'est ta meilleure amie !"( Im sure you're not saying that because she is your best friend !) I chock my head, a smile on my lips. "Non pas du tout. Toute les personnes qui me fréquente sont genial" (No I'm not, every person who frequent me are incredible.) I say jokingly.

"Je devrai rester coller a toi alors" ( I should stay as close to you as possible then! ) He state teasingly. I don't know how long he's actually planning on staying but im gonna have a pretty hard time if he continue to say things like that to me. Im already so overwhelmed with emotions and it's only been an hour.

I always thought the silly crush I had on him will stay in my childhood, like something I will think about and be like "how could that happen". but here I am feeling this exact same sensations I was feeling on that porch, like nothing really changed.

Im not naive. I don't expect anything from him. I already kind of experimented how he is when it comes to relationships, and that’s not attractive to me.

We continue to unpack everything, while he's telling me some behind the scene of formula one. I love listening to him talking about his work, he's so passionate about it and excited to explain every details of it. It's charming.

"So what are you planning to do while you’re in break ?" We moved to his bed, after we finished organizing everything. I sat in front of his lied down body.

"I don't know actually, it's been a while since I've been here for more than two days." He began, stirring up a little. "I think I'm just happy to get to be with you and Raph, so whatever we do is fine by me" the biggest smile made its way on my face. "Thank you for saying that." he smile back "it's true."

He get up to take something out of the front pocket of his travel bag. "Wish made me think, I have something for you." he get back to me with a little package in his hand and give it to me.

I furrow my eyebrows at him as open it, just to see a gorgeous necklace with a little charm dawdling at the end of it. "It's so pretty, but why?" I say locking eyes with him. Im in aww, my literally eyes shining, "I saw it a few months ago when I was in Italy and it made me think of you, so I buy it and since im here I thought it was the perfect occasion to give it to you."

My eyes widened "Slow down a minutes, you buy this months ago ? Did you already knew you we were going to see each other ? I don't understand." I say with a confused expression.

He chock his head, "No I didn't, but I knew I was going to see you at some point, and I wanted to have it then." I blush at his thoughtfulness.

"Thank you so much Charles." I jump in his arms which he immediately respond by squeezing me tightly.

We stay like that just enjoying the warm of our bodies against one another.

Once we pulled away, I sat with my back toward Charles. He pass the necklace in front of me. I take a fistful of my hair, freeing my neck for him.

Once he attached it, I drop the hold on my hair making them fall back on my back. he push them away a little and press a kiss on my shoulder not saying anything. I fell butterflies rise in my stomach.

I turn around locking eyes with him "Thank you." He blush lightly. "You're very welcome love."

—————————

When my brother gets home, Charles and I are sitting on the balcony, enjoying the cooler air.

I love how Monaco fell like a party every single second. From the moment the sun went completely down, thousands of apartments started to light up all around the principality.

We can see people walking down the road all dressed up and ready to have a blast. it's a all mood, and it's magical.

"Y/n you're here." I hear from behind me. I stop my conversation with Charles and sightly twist my upper body on the sofa to look behind me, inside the apartment.

I send a smile in Raphael's direction, as he make his way to us, opening the already ajar glass door.

"Hey, sorry that I took so long." he say, kissing my cheeks to say hello.

He didn't miss the oportunity to ruffle my hair just after, just to piss me off.

If a look could kill, he'll be dead by now.

"Some idiots, rented a yacht and ruined it, I had to deal with all the paper work for the assurance, and the obviously dump tourists, that suddenly couldn't understand anything I was saying." he sight, crossing his arms and leaning against the gate.

My brother own yachts and boats. Well technically "we" do. He had taken upon the family business when our parents moved. He rent them so people can organize parties, weeding... And he also navigate for people who went to visit around.

"Shit." Charles let out from behind me, concern in his voice. "And did you find a solution ?"

"Yeah, well at least I think so, we'll see in the morning." he smile sightly, and focus his attention back on me. "btw Charles is staying with us!"

"Yeah i caught up on that."I snort at my brother, making Charles laugh.

I send a smile in his direction which he is quick to return, with his pretty dimples.

"So, what do you guys want to do tonight ?" I ask looking between the two.

I hate being the one responsable of picking places to go to, because if it's not good or something it's all on me.

Raphael, shrugs "Whatever you and Charles want, im not picky." And it's true, he was incredibly easy to please.

I turn to Charles, he turn to me, smirk, than say the infamous words "whatever you pick is fine by me." This bastard.

"You guys are impossible." I sight.

To be continued...

Part 2 >>

I hope you guys liked it. This was the first part of what I hope will be a story. I created a masterlist so check it out if you want. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. If you want to request something, go for it and I will try my best to make it as good as possible. Have an amazing day or night, and maybe see you soon. With love, 💜

Ps : don’t forget to share if you want to

562 notes · View notes

cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

Note

Are your requests still open? I was hoping for a request for a Lucifer x sinner reader where she was once in love with someone when she was alive but they betrayed her leading to her death causing her to be afraid of letting others in. She's been a resident of the hotel since the pilot, but doesn't really talk much about her feelings or past life but is convinced by Charlie who says singing helps her when she needs to get out her own emotions. So when she thinks everyone is gone for the day on one of Charlie's bonding field trips, she uses the piano in the main area to sing her heart out, not realizing Lucifer decided to stay. The song I'm thinking of is "Perfect Doesn't Last" by Beth Crowley. So when she sings it and he overhears listening and watching her he's reminded of Lilith and feels for the reader understanding her more than when they first met during his first visit to the hotel (ep 5). I'm not sure of how to end it, so if you want to add anything to it I'm totally up for it. I just thought this song would match him so well.

A/N this is my first time writing for this man. Also,, i think it’s so funny that everyone is just like “short king” even tho alastor is canonically at least seven feet tall and charlie is at least like six feet tall. that’s so silly of us.

Encore (Lucifer x Reader)

Paring: Lucifer x Reader

Warnings: Domestic abuse briefly mentioned.

Word Count: 2,169

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Lucifer had just wanted to visit Charlie. With their relationship on the up and up, he was eager to not give up his chance to fix things with his favorite and only daughter. However, when he arrived at the hotel, throwing the doors open in unadulterated excitement, it was to find the normally busy lobby area empty.

The door fell shut behind him and his smile slipped from his face. Carefully, he ran his eyes over every inch of the room. There really was no one to be found.

"Maybe they're just all in their rooms, yeah." he said aloud to himself, "Charlie is probably... in her office! It must take a lot of work to run a place like this. Yeah, that's what it is."

Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor had asked her to come with them to the movies. It was supposed to be a reward, for how hard they had all been working. They had really tried their best to convince Y/n to join them but, as always was the case when activities that took them out of the hotel were not required, Y/n had declined the offer.

Y/n was still getting used to Hell in all its big scary wonder, she still hurt. Everything was so complicated and while spending time with her thoughts didn't make her feel good per-say, spending time with others had been making her feel even worse. Besides, Charlie had given her some advice a few days ago she wanted to test out and she didn't exactly feel comfortable doing that while the hotel was crawling with people.

Y/n trusted Charlie. She was the first person to have extended a kind hand in her direction since her arrival in Hell. When Charlie had found out Y/n had been a concert pianist in the living world, she was elated.

"That's perfect!" she had said, leaning across the desk towards her, "We have a piano in the Hotel's auditorium!"

"I... I don't know if I really can... perform, right now. If that's alright." Y/n had replied, wringing her hands and unable to keep eyecontact.

"What? Oh no! That's not what I meant at all. It just seems... well if you did it for a living, you must have loved it. And it seems like you always have a lot on your mind, lots of stuff to process, and I know you don't like talking to people about it and, well, music always makes me feel better. It feels freeing, like I'm getting everything bottled up inside me out when I sing."

"I... I don't think I've ever really thought about it that way." she had admitted in response, "It was just something I had always done. I started lessons when I was three."

"Well, you should try it some time." Charlie had smiled back, "Maybe it will help."

Once she was sure everyone was gone and the hotel was hers alone, Y/n had slipped quietly from the confinement of her room. It had taken her a bit to find the auditorium. When she finally did and saw the piano it held, her breath caught in her throat.

It was a beautiful old baby grand made out of a warm cherry wood that matched the hotel's theming well. The lid had creaked when she had opened it, the keys had been dusty to the touch.

It had been a long time since she'd played. With mild joy, she let her fingers run the usual scales and arpeggios, finding a comfort in the familiarity of it all. Once satisfied her fingers were all warmed up and ready to play something real, she posed them over the keys.

Lucifer had lost himself in the depths of the labyrinthine hotel. The twists and turns of the hallways were unfamiliar to him despite the tour Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor had lead him on. His hope at finding his daughter and spending some time with her had long since flickered out. He was on the verge of going home, his hand half raised to open a portal, when he heard it.

A faint echo of music flooded the hallway and Lucifer froze. It was haunting and distant, it drew him in. His sights set on a new sort of entertainment for the afternoon, he listened carefully and began to follow the sound.

As he got closer to its source, Lucifer realized that who ever was making the music was not just playing the piano but singing. Their voice was soft and lovely, nearly ethereal in its sheer humanity and anguish.

I would have bet on us

We were untouchable, you and I

I couldn't get enough

It was a fairytale come to life

Lucifer at last reached the half open door to the room the music appeared to be coming from. Not wanting to disturb the artist just yet, he transformed into a snake and slithered his way silently into the room. There, sitting at the piano on the stage, was Y/n.

I had your heart

At least that's what I thought

Now I'm second guessing every moment

Wondering where we went so wrong

He didn't really know much about Y/n except that she was new to Hell. Charlie had mentioned off hand that she had died in an incident of domestic abuse. Lucifer had no idea why she had ended up in Hell or what she was really like. When he had visited the hotel the first time, Y/n had been quiet and reserved. She had stood to the side and watched, barley even introducing herself to him.

At first, he had thought it to be disrespect. Not every demon in Hell was his biggest fan after all and while he was used to it, it still stung that even one of his daughters would be reformed sinners would be blatantly rude to him. He had quickly realized however from her flittering eyes and the way she clutched at herself that it wasn't disrespect at all. Y/n had been nervous.

Of course, Lucifer had made an attempt to make her feel more comfortable but, when he had extended his metaphorical hand, Y/n had just closed herself off even further. According to Charlie and Angel Dust, that was just what the demoness was like. She was shy.

You got inside my head

Taking up every inch of space

'Til there was no room left

Her hands flew across the keys with a practiced grace. Lucifer felt she knew he was there, watching. He felt that she just might be performing for him.

So many parts of me erased

You had my heart

And tossed it in the dirt

As he listened to the words she sung, they resonated with him. For a split second, he could have sworn it was Lilith sitting there at the piano, not Y/n. He shut his eyes, shaking his head slightly. He was oddly grateful when he opened them again to find it had just been his imagination.

Now that was a first. Since Lilith had disappeared seven years ago, Lucifer had been a mess. Lucifer was always a mess but, Lilith leaving like that really did him in. She had been his rock, his guiding light, his everything. He had risked everything for her and he had lost. At least, back in the old days, he had gained something out of the chaos. A daughter, a wife, a world to try and shape. One after another, they were all taken from him. Even now, even with their relationship improving the way it was, he felt Charlie slipping away again.

Now I'm second guessing every moment

Wondering where we went so wrong

I just keep asking

Would this have been worth it if I knew the ending all along.

Without really thinking about it, Lucifer retook his normal form and sat down in one of the auditorium's front row seats. Thankfully, Y/n was too wrapped up in her own world to notice and she just continued to play.

What started so perfect was over too fast

I should have seen the warning signs

'Cause perfect doesn't last

Perfect doesn't last

Light shined off her face, that was how Lucifer had realized she was crying. Despite the tears, her voice never wavered. A performer at her core, just like him.

I would have bet on us

We were untouchable, you and I

As the last lingering notes echoed through the room, he began to clap. Y/n jumped at the noise, turning to face him with wide eyes and cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Lucifer was undeterred and, getting to his feet, gave her a standing ovation. After a few moments, he ceased in his applause.

"That was beautiful." he said, breaking the new silence that had fallen between them.

"Um, I'm sorry." Y/n's gaze fell back to the piano.

"No! No no no!" Lucifer exclaimed, jumping up onto the stage.

He kneeled before her, lifting her hands from her lap and taking them in his own. She turned to him, surprise drawing out the features of her face once again.

"Don't apologize for taking up space."

"I... I just didn't mean to disturb you is all. If you're looking for Charlie, she's out at the movies with everyone else."

"I was but, I can talk to her later, when she gets back. You didn't disturb me at all, Y/n. As I said, it was beautiful. It was..."

He trailed off, the smile slipping from his face.

"Oh fuck!" Y/n exclaimed, "I didn't mean to upset you! I'm really sorry, what can I do to make it better?"

"You didn't upset me." Lucifer shook his head, "You just... somehow managed to put words to the very things I've been struggling with the past couple years."

A smaller, much kinder and more genuine smile made its way onto his face.

"If you'd like to play more, I'd love to hear it."

Y/n's cheeks flushed red again.

"Theres no pressure." Lucifer shrugged, "Just giving you the option."

"An audience of one... well, it's a little intimidating." she admitted bashfully, "I'm used to the faceless mob of the crowd."

"I can see why. You have an undeniable gift."

"I guess... I don't know. Charlie just said it might help me process stuff. To play again, I mean."

"Was she right?"

Y/n paused in thought for a moment before nodding slowly.

"I think she might have been. My chest does feel a little lighter now."

"Then play."

"Um, mister... king of Hell? Sir?"

Lucifer laughed.

"You can just call me by my name. No formalities necessary. 'Mister king of Hell sir' was my fathers name."

Y/n laughed lightly at his terrible joke. The sound sparked a sudden joy in Lucifer's chest, one he hadn't felt in quite a long time.

"Well, Lucifer." she began again, stumbling a bit over his name.

"Yes?"

"I'll... um, I'll need my hands back. If I'm to keep playing."

"Wh..."

He looked down and his eyes widened. Lucifer hadn't realized he had still held her hands in his. Immediately he dropped them, getting to his feet and looking away in mild embarrassment.

"Sorry, about that."

"Don't apologize for existing." Y/n parroted his earlier words.

When he turned back to her, it was to find she was smiling slightly.

"How bad would it be if I said sorry again right now?"

"You'd be sounding like me."

"Lets make a deal then: no sorries unless something is actually wrong."

"What if I can't tell if your mad at me or not?"

Lucifer looked down at the seated demon. In not one of his wildest dreams could he ever imagine being mad at her but, that wasn't exactly something he could say.

"Then you can always ask."

"And you promise you wont lie to me?"

"I promise."

"Promise promise?"

"Yes!"

She eyed him suspiciously for a moment before nodding her head. Turning back to the piano, her hands found their place on the keys once again. She hesitated.

"I..." Y/n shot Lucifer a look over her shoulder, "Thank you."

"Thank you. There is some solace in knowing someone else out there feels the same way I do, if for different reasons."

"Yeah. There is, isn't there? Maybe part of our deal can be helping each other figure that all out too."

The suggestion had been half thought out. Y/n hadn't really meant to give it a voice, it had escaped her locked lips. She quickly turned back to the piano.

"Sorry. That was dumb."

"What did we just say about sorries!" Lucifer exclaimed, "No apologizing for existing. I think that suggestion sounds rather nice."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay. I... I'm actually going to play now. Is that okay?"

With a snap of his fingers, Lucifer reappeared in the seat he had previously inhabited. He crossed his legs, resting his hands on his knee.

"Whenever your ready."

----

Song is Perfect Doesn't Last by Beth Crowley as requested :)

616 notes · View notes

lila-went-missing · 2 months

Note

I saw you wanted req's for Clarisse !! and I had a cute (well I thought it was cute) Hear me out !! You're Percy's older sister but you've been at camp for a few years so you and Clarisse have had more time to talk and get closer, sooo coincidentally once Percy came and after he and Clarisse had their fall out she finalized the relationship (not to be petty but just to get under his skin a little bit.. but also she didn't wanna do something to Percy and have you upset with her and ruin the progress y'all made.) But !! Percy only found out when you guys were eating at your table and Clarisse came by and didn't say anything to him, she kissed you but as she was walking away she muttered a half-assed apology to Percy. Bro's dumbfounded but you break the news to him, and as the loving brother he is and the fact you and Clarisse have known each other it's only fair he happy for you !! (You keep him safe from her.) SORRYYY this is so long but Clarisse makes me giggle, I hope you're having an amazing day !

I've been so excited to write this but I'm also such a procrastinator so sorry if this took a long time to come out. You're literally so sweet I hope you have an amazing day.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and wounds, it gets slightly suggestive once but nothing happens, cursing i think, I'm not going to lie to you this sucks especially the ending.

This took forever because I'm the medically expensive one in the family and I've been in and out of doctors offices for over a month now. This isn't proofread, I trust grammarly and move on. I love you all so much, enjoy my lovelies.

When the Waves Come In

Being a forbidden kid was anything but easy. Monsters could smell you more than others. The gods hated you. Trouble and tragedy seemed to track you down wherever you went, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. The only perks? Having a cabin to yourself and being slightly more powerful than other demigods. If you were being honest, that wasn't really a fair trade.

Not to mention, the other demigods at Camp Half-Blood either hated or praised you. There was no in between. You were claimed only seven months after arriving at camp, this made a lot of unclaimed kids unhappy with you. Like it was your fault that Poseidon was kind of proud of you once? It's not like he's bothered to reach out since then.

Over the last three years of living at camp, you've made some decent friends. You got along pretty well with most of the Hephaestus kids, Beckendorf immediately taking a liking to you for your stubbornness. The Apollo kids liked you, they even let you help lead archery classes. But there was one person that you were closer with than anyone else. Clarisse. Your Clarisse.

You weren't friends. You were so much more than that. But at the same time, you weren't quite together either. It was very complicated. However, there was one thing you were both certain of, you like being near each other, and hated being separated. Oftentimes, she would sit at your table during meals, Chiron choosing to turn a blind eye. You would sneak her dessert every time she lost her privileges. You were her girl, that much, everyone knew.

When a new kid by the name Percy Jackson showed up at camp, you didn't think much of it. New kids arrived all the time, 90% of them never being claimed and getting left to rot by their godly parents in the Hermes cabin. It was sad, but it was the truth. You learned to live with it.

You assumed the same would happen to him, until you saw it. The horn that once belonged to the Minotaur. Grover claimed he had killed it with its own horn. Everyone believed it except Clarisse. You wanted to not believe it, but how else would he have the horn?

Of course, Clarisse being Clarisse, she had to prove that he was a fraud. The first time she did this, she was blasted by water into a wall, effectively shattering a mirror with the impact. She came to you, of course, a bruise forming over her stomach and chest. You were honestly surprised that she didn’t some internal bleeding deal going on.

“I just want him to own up to being a liar!” She ranted. “Is that too much to ask? I mean, he’s 12, he’s like 4’11, he has no muscle what so ever! How am I expected to believe that he, of all people, killed the Minotaur?” She paced back and forth over the floor of your cabin for what felt like an eternity.

“I mean, this kid shows up out of literally no where, and is getting all the glory in the world. Is everyone here really that blind? There’s no way he managed to actually kill it, yet he’s getting all the praise? How does that add up?”

You stood from your place on your bed, walking towards her and placing your hands on her shoulders. Your hands squeeze gently, trying to ground her.

“Breathe,” you whisper, “I know it sounds highly unlikely. I know you’re pissed, you have every right to be.” Honestly, if the only way you could ever get your father’s attention was through glory and winning fights, even then, seldom getting any acknowledgement whatsoever. You have to admit, you’d be pretty pissed in this situation too. I mean the only thing you could do to get anything, even an admittance that you exist, is immediately taken over by this random kid no one’s heard of? Yeah, she’s rightfully pissed.

“But I need you to breathe before you have a nervous breakdown, honey.” Your hands rub up and down her arms, feeling her muscles slowly relax.

“I wouldn’t have had a nervous breakdown.” She mutters.

“I know, but I might’ve.” Knowing her, the way she is behind closed doors, she most definitely would have. But you let her believe that she would be okay.

“It’s just not fair you know? He hasn’t done anything. Even if he did kill the Minotaur, there’s no way he wasn’t running purely on adrenaline and rage. He wouldn’t be able to do that again if he tried. He’s getting all of this praise, and for what? Existing? Being, not even a man, a boy?” Her voice is much much quieter this time, barely making it to a whisper. If it wasn’t for your proximity you probably wouldn’t have heard it.

“I know, I know, love.” You can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around her. “Just think, in a week or two, people will probably forget all about it. He’ll go back to being a regular 12 year old, nothing special.” Realistically, you know that sounds kind of bad, but what else are you supposed to say to her.

There was a part of you, no matter how small that part may be, that knew that wasn’t going to happen. Most demigods aren’t able to do something like that and live through it. But you knew he wasn’t like most demigods.

You knew he would get claimed, soon, most likely. From the moment you laid eyes on him it’s like you could feel it. What happened in the bathrooms only confirmed your suspicions. While you didn’t say anything to the girl in front of you, you knew who he was.

He was another forbidden kid. Not just a forbidden kid though, your brother. A son of Poseidon.

***

Capture the flag was the next day. From the moment you woke up you could feel the energy surging through the air. This was one of the most anticipated events of the summer. The only thing you really won was a party and bragging rights. I guess to camp full of the competitive people you’d ever meet, that was all you needed.

It was definitely all Clarisse needed. She loved to win and hated to lose, a trait she inherited from her father. And she’d be dammed if she was going lose another game of Capture the Flag.

That’s why you’re so confused when she tells you that she’s changing the plan. She never changes the plan, finding solace in a good strategy.

You understood more when she explained what she was doing. Revenge on the new kid for blasting her with toilet water. When you put it like that, it sounds logical. But knowing Clarisse, and knowing what you know, you can’t just go along with it.

“Clar, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” You both paced around each other in your cabin, similar to last night.

“Are you seriously telling me that what he did was okay?” Her voice raises with every word.

“No! I just- I have a bad feeling! I don’t want you to get hurt!”

“I won’t! I can handle myself, you know this!”

“I know! But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry about you!” Your heart beats out of your chest with every step you take towards each other.

“I can’t believe this! You really don’t think I can do this!” Before you can even formulate a response, she’s grabbing her stuff and walking out the door.

You follow her of course, yelling her name, but it’s no use. She doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t even pause in her steps. You watch her disappear behind the door of cabin five.

The door to cabin three shuts as you slide down it. Your head hits the wood as you lean back, sure to give you a headache later. You can’t find it in yourself to care though. A tear slips down your cheek. Then another. Then another.

You know it’s a bad idea. She will go after revenge. And she will get hurt. But you also know that there’s literally nothing you can say to her. You want to, but it’ll only make things worse. That's the thing about Clarisse, when she gets her mind set on something, there's no changing her mind. All you can do is patch her up afterwards.

The red team has kept the flag near the water ever since you were claimed. They made sure that you were never far from it, blasting anyone in the face if they got too close for comfort. You weren't going to lie, it was potentially one of your favorite things to do.

So, as per usual, you were patrolling the edge of the water. No one had really gotten close enough, which was very disappointing. Until the new kid ran out of the woods and immediately tripped and fell on his face. Your whole body straightens immediately, muscles tensing. You pull out your sword and move towards him. He probably doesn't want a fight but it's better safe than sorry.

He had a few cuts littering his arms and cheeks. His clothes were dirty and he was now covered in wet pebbles. You could tell that he was disoriented and panicked. You were about to approach him when one of your sort of girlfriend's brothers ran out of the woods after him. Miles. One of her sisters followed suit, Trinity, you think her name was. Dear Hades they're actually going through with it.

Clarisse comes barreling out of the woods after them. Before you can even think about jumping in the sound of metal on metal fills your ears. Swords and shields clash. A spear jabbed at his chest. Her spear. You wanted to get between them, help him, protect him. Even if he didn't know it yet, he was.

But you couldn't. Everything moved so fast you didn't have time to react before they were all rolling over the ground. The water fed off of your emotions, grabbing her siblings and ripping them away from the fight. But it was too late. You saw the spark come from in between them. You heard the wood snap. Half of the spear was in her hands, the other half in his as his body rolled with the momentum.

It felt like time froze for those few seconds. The water was still. The wind stopped blowing, birds stopped chirping. The air around you seemed to disappear. You couldn't breathe. All noises cut out as her guttural scream ripped through the air, lasting for what felt like an eternity.

She ran forward, grabbing the front of his armor and jerking him forward. The conch blew, the blue team ran across the river carrying the flag. She ran off into the woods, it didn't take long for you to follow behind her, grabbing the pieces of the spear as you went.

Before you fully made it away, you saw the trident above his head. That's the moment you realized that you should've placed bets. You would've made bank, but that's not really your concern right now.

You find her in her cabin, facing away from the door, sitting on the edge of her bed. If you look close enough you can see the way her shoulders shake. You place the pieces of her spear on a table near her bed before kneeling behind her. Your arms wrap around her front, pulling her in.

Her back rests against your front, her head tucking back into your neck. You feel the way her shoulders tremble and shake in your gentle hold. For a long time, she doesn't say anything. A few tears slip down your cheeks that you don't mention. You don't push her. It's very rare she lets anything like this happen. She feels like showing these kinds of emotions would make her weak. It didn't matter how many times you assured her otherwise. Sometimes you can't change a person's thoughts when they're the only thing that person has ever known.

After what feels like forever, she speaks. Her voice comes out shaky. It's the kind of soft you only hear late in the night after sneaking into her cabin.

"That spear- it was the only-." A sob escapes her throat and you can feel the way it moves through her whole body, consuming her completely.

"I know honey.." You whisper in her ear. Your arms subconsciously tighten around her muscular frame.

"It was the only proof that he could ever love me." You swear you can feel your heart shatter. You've never liked her dad, but even so, you knew how much that spear meant to her. Her fathers traits were very prominent in her from the moment she was born. Her anger issues kept her in trouble, never getting help. Never being accepted. Her father was the only hope she would ever have until she met you. But even then she was so terrified of losing you...

"It'll be okay.. I promise." Your words a hidden promise of protection.

You're not sure what happens that night but you know something changes. Her arms wrapped around you a little tighter. Her breaths came a little deeper, more relaxed. Your finger over more of her scars, tracing them with the delicacy that was only ever seen in the hands of the greatest artists. When you thought about it though, she was the only work of her art that would ever be worthy of such care.

When you wake the light hits the two of you in a new way. As if Apollo made Helios shine it on the two of you alone so he could write the greatest love hymns that would ever be seen by mankind.

Her siblings don't question your presence. They never do. Why would they when it's so rare the children of Ares are able to find such peace. So rare they can find such a level of acceptance within another person.

For a while you sit there and watch the golden light dance across her bronze skin. The way it shines around her face, the face you've kissed so many times. The face you long to kiss right now. You don't sneak out this morning, instead staying curled into her side. The beating of her heart threatening to lull you back into a peaceful slumber.

Then the conch blows for breakfast, causing her to stir. Her eyes flutter open, turning into pools of golden honey as the light swims in the sweet waters. A small smile creeps onto her lips as her eyes meet yours.

"Hi." You whisper. Your hand strokes over her cheek.

"Hi, baby." Her voice is as soft as the way she looks at you. Before you know it she's leaning forward and placing her lips on yours. It's the first time but it doesn't feel like that. It just feels... right. Something about it is so perfect. The way your lips fit together like long lost pieces of a puzzle.

"What was that for?" Your lips remain parted when you pull away. "I just, wanted to kiss you." She mutters in reply. A blush covers the expanse of her cheeks. You never thought you'd see her so flustered. "Can you do it again? Kiss me again?" She smiles and nods at your words before leaning in and pressing her lips back against yours.

They're soft and warm as they slide against yours. It feels like coming home after a long day of training. Your favorite person right in front of you with open arms.

When she pulls away, she's smiling wider than you've ever seen her. "I really should have done that a lot sooner." You can't help but laugh at her words. "I've only been waiting for four years!"

"Why don't we make up for that?" She leans forward, resting her hand on her waist and pulling your body against hers. A chuckle leaves your throat.

"Maybe later, right now, I really want breakfast." You peck her lips once more before rolling out of bed. "Come on!"

It's not long before you're both dressed and making your way to the dining pavilion. As much as you would like to sit with her, she's already on thin ice with Chiron. You take your time getting your food and burning it, not wanting to be separated until absolutely necessary. Eventually though, you have to part ways and join your newly-claimed brother at the Poseidon table.

"I'm surprised you're not more banged up if I'm being honest." You say as you take your seat. There's not a single scratch on him.

"Annabeth kind of shoved me into the water, next thing I know everything is healed." He answers, you can tell he's nervous knowing your connection with Clarisse.

"Perks of being Poseidon's kid, that and our cabin is a lot less crowded." He laughs lightly at your words.

"You're telling me! It's nice not sleeping on the floor." The both of you go quiet for a while, eating in comfortable silence. The breeze is cool against your skin, a nice reminder of the weather barrier. When you look up, Percy is looking behind you with pure fear in his eyes. You expect to be greeted by a monster when you turn, instead you're greeted by your girlfriend.

You can't help but chuckle at the look on Percy's face. You really can't help but laugh at his face when she leans down and presses a kiss against your cheek. "I'll see in training later, right babe?"

"Wouldn't miss it." You kiss her jaw before she turns and jogs off towards the arena.

"She- you-" He looks utterly dumbfounded as what he just witnessed. "What just happened?"

"She's my girlfriend, Percy."

His mouth drops open with the most surprised look you've ever seen. "Oh."

"Is that an issue?" You don't really care if it is, but you ask anyway. "No, no I just, didn't take her as the type to really date anyone." He answers.

"Most people don't, I'll do my best to keep her from pulverizing you." A laugh escapes you before you take your leave.

Life didn't seem too bad.You had a new brother, you were dating the girl you'd been in love with for years. You might even be able to convince her to leave him alone. You'll get her spear fixed as a surprise birthday gift.

You can feel everyone's surprised eyes on you as you walk out. There's no doubt the entire camp knows by now, and there's no doubt that a billion rumors will be floating around by dinner time. But there's a part of that just, can't find it in you to care. How can you when you have everything you've wanted right there in front of you.

459 notes · View notes

felikatze · 5 months

Text

ISAT and Ludonarrative Harmony: Combat is a Storytelling Tool

Or: How Siffrin is stuck in the endgame grind, forever

Please Note: This is primarily aimed at an audience that already played In Stars and Time, because I am bad at explaining things, and it's good to already know what the fuck I'm talking about. I tend to only bring up game elements as I want to talk about them.

Spoilers for.... all of ISAT! Especially Act 5!

(image to show how i feel posting this and as an attention grabber over my wall of text)

To pull a definition of ludonarrative harmony out of a hat, game writer Lauryn Ash defines it as follows:

Ludonarrative harmony is when gameplay and story work together to create a meaningful and immersive experience. From a design implementation perspective, it is the synchronized interactions between in-game actions (mechanics) and in-world context (story).

It is, generally speaking, how well game mechanics work hand in hand with the story. I, personally, think ISAT is an absolute masterclass of it, so I want to take a look at how ISAT specifically uses its battle system to emphasize Siffrin's character arc and create organic story moments. I want you to keep this in mind when I talk here.

So, skills, right? If you've played any turn-based RPG, you know your Fire spells, your "BACKSLASH! AIRSLASH! BACKSLASH!" and the many ways to style those.

Well, what does casting "Fire" say about your character? Not all that much, does it? Perhaps you'll have typical divisions. The smart one is the mage, the big brawny one is your tank, the petite one's the healer. And that's the barebones of ISAT's main party, but it's much more than that.

Every character's style of combat tells you something about them. Odile, the Researcher, is the most well-travelled and knowledgable of the bunch. She's the one with the expertise to keep a cool head and analyze the enemy, yet also able to use all three of the Rock-Paper-Scissors craft types.

To reflect her analytical view of things, all her skill names are just descriptive, the closest to your most bog-standard RPG. "Slow IV" or "Paper III" serve well to describe their purpose. The high number of the skills gives the impression there were three other Slow skills beforehand - fitting, considering the party starts at level 45, about to head into the final dungeon. She's also the oldest, so she's the slowest of the bunch.

Isabea, the Fighter, has all his skills in exclamation points. "YOUR TURN!!!" "SO WEAK!!!" "SMASH!!!" they're straightforward, but excited. He's a purposefully cheerfull guy, so his skills revolve around cheering on his allies. He's absolutely pumped to be here, and you see that from his skill names alone.

Mirabelle, the Housemaiden, is an interesting case. She's by all means the true protagonist of this tale - She's the one "Chosen by the Change God," the only one who survived the King's first attack, the only one immune to his ability to freeze time, the only dual-craft type of the game - just a lot of things. And her skill names reflect that facade she puts on herself - she can do this, she can win! She has to believe it, or else she starts doubting. This is how you get "Jolly Round Rondo" and "Mega Sparkle Heal" or "Adorable Moving Cure." She's styled every bit a sailor scout shojo heroine, and her moveset replicates the naming conventions of "In the name of the moon, I'll punish you!"

Even Bonnie, the Kid, who can't be controlled in combat, has named craft skills. And they very much reflect that Bonnie is, well, a kid. "Wolf Speed Technique" or "Thousand Blows Technique" are very much the phrasings of a child who learned one complicated word and now wants to use it in everything to seem cooler than they are, which is none, because they're twelve.

Siffrin's skills are all puns.

You have an IMMEDIATE feel for personality here. Between "Knife to Meet You!" and "Too Cleaver by Half," you know Siffrin's the type to always crack a joke no matter the situation, slinging witticisms around to put Sonic the Hedgehog to shame. It's just such a clever way to establish character using a game mechanic as old as the entire history of RPGs.

This is only the baseline of the way the combat system feeds into the story, though.

The timeloop, of course, feeds into it. Siffrin is the only character who retains experience upon looping, whereas all other characters are reset to their base level and skills. And it sucks (affectionate).

You're extremely likely to battle more often the earlier in the game you are - after all, you need the experience (for now.) Every party member contributes, and Siffrin isn't all that strong on their own, since they focus on raw scissor type damage with the addition of one speed buff. (Of course it's a speed buff. They're a speedy fucker. Just look at him).

At first, the difference in level between Siffrin and the rest of the group is rather negligible. Just a level or two. Just a bit more speed and attack. And then Siffrin grows further and further apart. Siffrin keeps learning new skills. He gets a healing skill that doubles as an attack boost, taking away from both Mirabelle's and Isabeau's usefullness. He gets Craft skills of every type that even give you two jackpot points instead of one - thus obliterating Odile's niche. Siffrin turns into a one-person army capable of clearing most encounters all on their own.

Siffrin's combat progression is an exact mirror of story progression - as their experience inside the loops grows, they also grow further and further away from their party. The party seems... weaker, slower, clumsier. Always back at their starting point, just as all of their character arcs are reset each loop. Never advancing, always stagnant. And you have Siffrin as the comparison post right next to them.

I also want to point out here a change from Act 2 to Act 3 - Siffrin's battle portrait. He stops smiling.

Battles keep getting easier. This is true both for the reason that Siffrin keeps growing stronger even when all enemies stay the same, but also for the reason that you, the player, learn more about the battle system and the various encounters, until you've learned perfect boss clear strategies just from repetition. Have you ever watched a speedrunner play Pokemon? They've played this game so many times, they could do it blindfolded and sleeping. Your own knowledge and Siffrin's new strength work in tandem to trivialize the game's entire combat system as the game progresses.

(Is it still fun? Playing it over, and over, and over again? Is it?)

You and Siffrin are in sync, your experience making everything trivial.

As time goes on, Siffrin grows to care less and less about performing right for their party and more and more about going fast. A huge moment in his character is marked by the end of Act 3; because of story events I won't delve too deeply into, Siffrin has grown afraid of trying something new. And his options of escape are closing in. They need an answer, and they need it fast. He doesn't have the time or patience to dumb himself down, so you unlock one new skill.

It doesn't occur with level up, or with a quest, or anything at all. At the start of Act 4, it simply appears in Siffrin's Craft skills.

(Just attack.)

No pun. No joke. Just attack. Once you notice, the effect is immediate - here you have it, a clear sign of how jaded Siffrin has become, right at every encounter. And it's a damn good attack, too! The only available attack in the game that deals "massive" damage against all enemies. Because it doesn't add any jackpot points (at least, it's not supposed to), you set up a combo with everybody else, but Siffrin simply tears away at the enemy with wild abandon. Seperated from the rest of the party by the virtue of no longer needing to contribute to team attacks (most of the time. It's still useful if they do, though).

Once again, an aspect of the battle system enhances the degree of separation between Siffrin and the static characters of his play. You're incentivized to separate him, even.

Additionally, there are two more skills to learn. They're the only skills that replace previous skills. You only get them at extremely high levels, the latter of which I didn't even reach on both of my playthroughs.

The first, somewhere in the level 70 range, Rose Printed Glasses, a paper type craft skill, is replaced by Tear You Apart. It's still a pun about paper, but remarkedly more vicious.

The second is even more on the nose. At level 80, In A While, Rockodile!, a rock type craft skill, is replaced by the more powerful Rock Bottom.

I didn't get to level 80. If you do, you pretty much have to do it on purpose. You have to keep going much longer than necessary, as Siffrin is just done. And the last skill he learns is literally called Rock Bottom.

What do I even need to say, really.

Your party doesn't stay static forever, though.

By doing their hangout quests, side quests throughout the loops that result in Siffrin and the character having a heart to heart, all of them unlock what I'd call an "ultimate" skill. You know the type - the character achieved self-fulfillment, hit rank 10 on their confidant, maxed out their skill tree, and received a reward for their trouble.

These skills are massively useful. My favorite is Odile's - it makes one enemy weak to all Craft types for several turns, which basically allows you to invalidate the first and third boss, as well as just clown on the King, especially once Siffrin starts racking up damage.

But the thing is. In Act 3, when you first get them, yeah, they're useful. But... do you need them? After all, they're such a hassle to get. You need to do the whole character quest again, you can't loop forward in the House or you'll lose them. If you want to take these skills to the King, you need to commit. Go the full nine-yards and be nice to your friends and not die and not skip forward or skip back. Which is annoying, right?

Well, I sure did think so during Act 4. After all, a base level party can still defeat the King, just with a few more tricky pieces involved. Siffrin can oneshot almost all basic enemies by the time of Act 4. It's this exact evalutation that you, the player, go through everytime you return to Dormont. Do I want this skill, still? Would it not be faster to go on without it? I'm repeating myself, but that's the thing! That's what Siffrin is thinking, too!

I also want to take a quick moment to note, here - all skills gained from hangouts have art associated with them, which no other skills do. This feature, the nifty art, hammers home these as "special" skills, besides just how they're unlocked.

Siffrin also has one skill with associated art.

Yeah, you guessed it, it's (Just attack.)

At first, helping the characters is tied to a hefty in-game reward, but that reward loses its value, and in return devalues helping Siffrin's friends every loop. It's too tedious for a skill that'll make a boss go by one turn faster. You, the player, grow jaded with the battle system. Grinding experience isn't worth it, everybody's highest levels are already recorded. Fighting bosses isn't worth it, it's much faster to loop forward.

Isn't this what all endgame in video games looks like? You already beat the final boss, and now... what challenge is left? Is there a point to keep playing? Most games will have some post-game content. A superboss to test your skills against, but ISAT doesn't have any of that. You're forever left chasing to the post-game. That's the whole point - to escape the game.

As most games get more difficult as time passes, ISAT only gets easier. The game becomes disinterested in expanding its own mechanics just as I ran out of new things to fight after 100%-ing Kingdom Hearts 3. Every encounter becomes a simple game of "press button to win."

The final boss just takes that one up a notch.

Spoilers for Act 5 ahead boys!

In Act 5, Siffrin utterly loses it. His last possible hope for escape failed him, told him there's nothing she can do, and Siffrin is trapped for eternity. So of course, they go insane and run up the entire House without their party.

This just proves what you already knew - you dont need the party to proceed. Siffrin alone is strong enough. And here, Siffrin has entirely shed the facade of the jokester they used to be. Every single skill now follows the (Just attack.) naming conventions. Your skills are: (Paper.) (Rock.) (Scissors.) (Breathe.)

To the point. Not a moment wasted, because Siffrin can't take a moment longer of any of this. Additionally, his level is set to 99 and his equipment becomes fixed. You can't even pick up items anymore! Not that you needed them at this point anyway, right? Honestly, I never used any items besides the Salty Broth since Act 2, so I stopped picking items up a long time ago. Now you just literally can't.

Something I've not talked about until now - one of the main equipment types in this game are Memories, gained for completing subquests or specific interactions and events. They all by and large have little effects - make Odile's tonics heal more, or have Mirabelle cast a shield at the start of combat. For the hangout events, you also gain an associated memory that boosts the characters' stats by 30. It lets them keep up with Siffrin again! A fresh wind! Finally, your party members feel on par with you again!

...For a time. And just like that, they're irrelevant again, just as helping them gave Siffrin a brief moment of hope that the power of friendship could fix everything.

In Act 5, your memory is set to "Memory of Emptiness." It allows you to loop back in the middle of combat. You literally can't die anymore. Not that Siffrin could've died by this point in the first place, unless you forgot about the King's instant-kill attack. This one memory takes away the false pretense that combat ever had any stakes. Siffrin's level being set to 99 means even the scant exp you get is completely wasted on them. All stakes and benefits from combat have been removed. It has become utterly pointless.

Frustrating, right? It's an artistic frustration, though. It traps you right here in Siffrin's shoes, because he hates that all these blinding Sadnesses are still walking around just as much. It all inspires just a tiny fraction of that deep rolling anger Siffrin experiences here in the player.

And listen, it was cathartic, that one time Siffrin snapped and stabbed the tutorial Sadness, wasn't it? Because who enjoys sitting through the tutorial that often? Siffrin doesn't. I don't, either.

So, since combat is an useless obstacle now meant to inspire frustration, what do you do for a boss? You can't well make it a gameplay challenge now, no. The bosses of Act 5 are an emotional challenge: a painful wait.

First, Siffrin fights the King, alone. This is already nervewracking because of one factor - in every other run, you need Mirabelle's shield skill, or else you're scripted to die. You're actually forced to fight the King multiple times in Act 3, and have to do it at least once in Act 4, though you'll likely do it more. Point is: you know how this fight works.

You know Siffrin's fight is doomed from the outset, but all you can do is keep slinging attacks. Siffrin is enough of a powerhouse to take the King's HP down, what with the healing and buff skills they have now, not to even mention you can just go all in on damage and then loop back.

(And no matter which way you play it, whether you just loop or use strategically, it reflects on Siffrin, too. Has he grown callous enough not even death will stop their mission? Or does he still avoid pain, as much as he can?)

This fight still allows you the artifice of even that much choice, not that it matters. The other shoe drops eventually - Siffrin becomes slower, and slower. Unsettling, considering this game works on an Action Gauge system. You barely get turns anymore. The screen gets darker, and darker. Until Siffrin is frozen in time, just as you knew he had to be, because you know how this encounter works, know it can't be cleared without Mirabelle.

And, then, a void.

Siffrin awakens to nothingness. The only way to tell you've hit a wall is if Siffrin has no walking animation to match your button inputs. You walk, and walk, until you're approached by.... you. The next enemy encounter of the game, and Siffrin's absolute lowest point: Mal Du Pays.

Or, "Homesickness," in english. If you know the game, you know why it's named this, but that's not the point at the moment.

Thing is, where you could damage the King and are damaged in turn, giving you at least a proper combat experience, even if its doomed to fail, Mal Du Pays has no such thing.

You can attack. You can defend. But it is immune to all attacks. And in return, it does nothing. It's common, at least, for undefeatable enemies to be a "survive" challenge, but nope. The entire fight is "press button and wait." Except, remember the previous fight against the King? The entire time, you were waiting for the big instant death attack to drop. That feeling, at least for me, carried forward. I was incredibly on edge just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And, as is a pattern, Siffrin is, too. As Siffrin's attacks fail to connect, they start talking to Mal Du Pays.

But he gets no response, as you get no attacks to strategize around. The wait for anything to happen is utterly agonizing. You and Siffrin are both waiting for something to happen. This isn't a fight. It just pretends to be. It's an utter rugpull, because Siffrin was so undefeatable for most of Act 4 and all of Act 5 so far. It's kind of terrifying!

and it does. It finally does something. Ma Du Pays speaks, in the voice of Siffrin's friends, listing out their deepest fears. I think it's honestly fantastic. You're forced to just sit here and listen to Siffrin's deepest doubts, things you know the characters could not say because it references the timeloops they're all utterly unaware of. This is all Siffrin, talking to himself. And all you, all Siffrin, can do, is keep wailing away on the enemy to no effect whatsoever.

So of course this ends with Siffrin giving up. What else can you do?

And then Siffrin's friends show up and unfreeze them and it's all very cool yay. The pure narrative scenes aren't really the main focus but I want to point out here:

A) Mirabelle is in the first party slot here, referencing how she's the de facto protagonist, and Bonnie fills in the fourth slot left empty, which shows all characters uniting to save Siffrin

B) this is the only instance of the other party members having act specific battle icons: they're all smiling brightly, further pushed by the upbeat music

C) the reflecting shield Mirabelle uses to freeze the King uses a variation of her hangout skill cut in, marking it as her true "final" skill and giving the whole fight a more climatic feeling.

It's also a short gameplay sequence with Siffrin utterly uninvolved in the battle. You can't even see them onscreen. But... it feels warm, doesn't it? Everybody coming together. Siffrin doesn't have to fight anymore.

At last, the King is defeated. Siffrin and co. make for the Head Housemaiden, to have her look at Siffrin's sudden illness. Siffrin is utterly exhausted, famished, running a fever. And this isn't unexpected - after all, their skills in Act 5 had no cooldown. For context, instead of featuring any sort of MP system, all skills work on a cooldown basis, where a character can't use it for a certain number of turns. The lowest cooldown is actually Siffrin's Knife to Meet You, which has a cooldown of 1. In universe, this is reasoned as the characters needing a break from spamming craft in order to not exhaust themselves.

Siffrin's skills in Act 5 having no cooldown/being infinitely spammable isn't a sign of their strength - it's a sign that he refuses to let himself rest in order to rush through as fast as possible.

Moving on, Siffrin panics when seeing the Head Housemaiden, because seeing her means one thing: the end. Prior to this in the game, every single time you beat the King, the loop ends when you talk to the Head Housemaiden.

Reality breaks down, the whole shebang. It's here that Siffrin realizes - they don't want the loops to end, because the end of their journey means their family will leave, and he'll be alone again. The happiest time of his life will be over.

Siffrin goes totally ballistic, to say the least.

As it turns out (and was heavily foreshadowed narratively), Siffrin has been using Wish Craft to subconciously cause the timeloop because of their abandonment issues. It's rather predictable if you paid attention to literally anything, but it's extremely notable how heavily Siffrin is paralleled to the King, the antagonist they swore to kill by themself at the start of Act 5. The King wants to freeze Vaugarde in time because it is, in his mind, "perfect," for accepting him after he lost his home - a backstory he shares with Siffrin.

Siffrin has become the exact antagonist he swore to kill, and it's shown by how the next fight utterly flips everything on its head.

Siffrin is the final boss.

In a towering form made of stars, Siffrin looks down at their friends. His face is terrified, because of his internal conflict; he can't hurt his friends, but he can't let them go, either. The combat prompt is simply changed to "END IT!"

This fight is similar to the previous, in that you just need to wait a certain number of turns until its over. However, this time, it's not dreadful suspense. It's... confusion, and hesitance.

You have two options for combat: Attack your friends, or attack yourself.

And... you don't really want to do either, I think. I certainly don't. But what else can you do? It's Siffrin's desires clashing in full force. Attack your friends, and force them to stay? Or attack yourself, and let them go safely without you?

Worth noting, here - when you attack Siffrin's friends, you can't harm them. Isabeau will shield all attacks. And when you attack yourself, Mirabelle will heal you back to full. And the friends don't... do anything, either. How could they? Occasionally, Mirabelle heals you and Isabeau shouts words of motivation, but the main thing is...

(Your friends don't know what to do.)

None of them want to harm Siffrin. Both sides simply stare at each other, resolute in their conviction but unwilling to end it with violence. It's of note that this loop, the last one, is the only loop where the King isn't killed. Just frozen. And now here is Siffrin, clamoring for the same eternity the King was. Of course everything ends in a tearfilled conversation as Siffrin sees their friends won't leave him, even after the journey ends, but I still have to appreciate this moment.

Siffrin is directly put in the position with their friends as his enemies, forced to physically reckon that keeping them in this loop is an act of violence, against both their friends, and against himself.

It's a happy ending. But... what does it mean?

Of course, ISAT is obviously about the fear of change. Siffrin is afraid of the journey ending, and of being alone. However, ISAT is also a game about games. Siffrin is playing the same game, over and over, because it's comforting. It's familiar. It's nice, to know exactly what happens next. These characters might just be predictable lines of dialogue, but... they feel like friends. Have you ever played a game, loved it, put countless hours into it, but you never finished it? Because you just couldn't bear to see it end? For the characters to leave your life, for there to be a void in your heart where the game used to be?

After all, maybe it became part of your routine! You play the game every day, slowly chipping away at it for weeks at a time. For me, I beat ISAT in four days. It utterly consumed me during this time. I had 36 hours of playtime by the end. Yeah, in that week, I did not do much more than play ISAT.

And once i beat it, i beat it, again. I restarted the game to see the few scenes I missed, most specifically the secret boss I won't talk about here. I... couldn't let go of the game yet. I wanted to see every scrap I could. I still do. I'm writing this, in part because I still do. It's scary to let go.

Ever heard the joke term of "Postgame Depression?" It's when you just beat a game, and you're suddenly sad. Maybe because the ending affected you emotionally and you need to process the feelings it invoked, or you search for something that can now fill your time with it gone.

The game ends, for real this time, the last time you talk to the Head Housemaiden. But Siffrin gets... scared. What if everything loops back again? And so, his family offers to hold his hand. They face the end, together.

For all loops, including the ending, you never see what happens after. After they leave the loop for good. Because the loop is the game itself. It's asking you to trust that life goes on for these characters, and it holds your hand as it asks you to let go. There's a reason for Siffrin's theater metaphors. He is the actor, and the director, asking everyone to do it over one more time. He's a character within the game, and its player.

There's a reason I talked about endgame content. This, the way it all repeats, there's nothing new, difficulty and stakes bleed away as you snap the game over your knee - it's my copy of White 2 with two hundred hours in it. It's me playing Fire Emblem Awakening in under 3 hours while skipping every cutscene. Are you playing for the sake of play, for the sake of indulging in your memories, because you're afraid of the hole it'll leave when you stop?

Of note: the narrative never condemns Siffrin for unwittingly causing their own suffering. He's a victim of circumstance. It's seen as endearing, even, that Siffrin loves their friends to the point of rather seeing the world destroyed than them gone. But Siffrin is also told: we'll stay with you for now, but we'll part ways eventually. And one day, you'll have to be okay with it.

Stop draining the things you love of every ounce of enjoyment just because you're afraid of what happens next. I'm not saying to never play your favorite games again. Playing ISAT a second time, I still had a lot of fun! I saw so many new things I didn't before, and I enjoyed myself immensely, reading the same dialogue over and over. But... it makes me look at other games I love and still play, and makes me ask... is this still fun? Do I still need to play this game to enjoy it? Even writing this is an afterimage of my enjoyment, but it's a new way to interact with the game, to analyze it through this lens. Fuck, man, I write fanfiction. Look at me.

All of this, fanart, fanfic, analysis, is a way to prolong that enjoyment without making yourself suffer for it. Without just going through the motions of enjoyment without actually experiencing any. But one day, the thing you love won't be fun to talk and write and draw about. And it's okay. You'll have new things to love. I promise.

In the end.... I'm certain I'll replay ISAT one day. Between great writing, art, puzzles and unresolved mysteries, it's my shoe-in for game of the year.

But I won't replay it for quite some time. I've had enough, for now, so I let my love take other forms.

Siffrin is never condemned, because love is no evil. Be it love for another person, or for a game. And please, if you're overempathetic - it's still a game, at the end of the day. The great thing about games is that you can always boot them up again, no matter how long its been.

A circle within a circle indeed.

To summarize:

The repetitiveness of ISAT's combat, lack of new enemies, and Siffrin's ever increasing strength eventually allows you to snap the combat over your knee, rendering it irrelevant and boring. Though this may seem counterproductive at first, it perfectly mirrors how Siffrin has also grown bored with these repeated encounters and views them only as an obstacle to get past. The reflection of Siffrin's own tiredness with the player's annoyance increases the compassion the player has for Siffrin as a character.

Additionally, the endgame state of the combat system serves as commentary on the state of a favorite game played too often, much like how Siffrin has unwittingly trapped themself in the loop. Despite the game having no more challenge or content left to over, a player might return to their favorite game anyway, solely to try and recreate the early experience of actually having fun with it. This ties into ISAT's metanarrative about the fear of change and refusal to let go of comfort even when the object (here, your favorite video game) offering that comfort has become utterly bereft of any substance to actually engage with. Playing for the sake of playing, with no actual investment to keep going besides your own memories.

Later on, stripping away even the pretense of strategy for a "press button and wait" format of final bosses highlights the lack of options at Siffrin's disposal and truly forces the player into their shoes. Truly, the only way to win is to stop playing.

#feli speaks #in stars and time #isat #isat spoilers #lays down on floor. it's done. it's done #i actually narrowed down in scope to just focus on the combat by the way. and this is like. several thousand words

1K notes · View notes