10 of Swords, original story, Hannah and Greg
Title: Hannah and Greg
Author: Aphrodite_mine
Summary: A modern reversal and update of Hansel and Gretel. What would the story be today?
Fandom: None-this is an original.
Warnings: Non-con, and mention of incest
Tarot: 10 of Swords
Notes: Written for school, but also with this challenge in mind. Thanks to willowaus for the beta and the talk through.
Hannah and Greg
It's only the second week of school and already the classroom is out of control. Only two-thirds of the students are turning in their work, and only two-thirds of them are even pretending to stay awake for the whole class period. I'm going to be the laughing stock of the English department.
I'm barely nine years older than these kids, and the administration dumped three sections of Freshman English on me. For Christ's sake, I still remember this stuff from going through the system. I don't even need a syllabus. Freshman English is bottom of the barrel, and as long as I get through this, then I can start working my way up.
I'm standing at the black board, scratching words with dusty chalk that I can barely make myself care about, longing for a class - just one, God, I'd be happy with one - of Advance Placement Literature, or maybe Creative Writing…
"So what is the symbolism here, why does Thoreau spend so much time documenting this scene?" I don't even blame the kids who are sleeping, I can't even make this interesting to myself.
It's a relief when someone actually raises their hand. "Yes, Hannah?" She and her twin brother sit in the front row because of their bad vision. Why their mother doesn't take them to an eye doctor is beyond me, its not like they look poor or anything.
"Actually, I think the whole book was pretty much bull shit." She stares at me, like she's daring me to disagree. She lowers her pen and smoothes down her black hair, all without looking away.
The students who are awake giggle and start a low hum of chatter. I honestly agree, but I know this kind of thing can get out of hand fast. "Would you care to elaborate on your point of view, Miss Burns, without the vulgarities?" I say in my best 'teacher voice'. I turn to fully face the class. At least this is getting some of the kids to pay attention.
"Not really, Mr. Clark," Hannah smirks. "It's just bull shit."
I sigh. I really don't want to do this, but there has to be a line drawn somewhere, and this looks like as good a place as any. "Then I suppose I'll see you after school for detention."
I watch her face, but instead of reacting to me, Hannah eyes her brother, her lips curving upwards slightly.
"Well fuck that," Greg announces gleefully, much to the amusement of the class. Only Hannah doesn't laugh, but sits coolly, that same partial smile cutting across her face.
I can almost feel the downward spiral pulling me down, my classroom with it. "Would you like to join your sister after school, Greg?"
"If that's what it takes to defend my freedom of speech." Greg raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms, sitting back in his seat.
I rub at the bridge of my nose. A migraine is definitely coming on. How many weeks, now, until summer break? I don't want to be the kind of teacher who gives detention for cussing in class. Some of my favorite teachers in high school were the ones who let the f-bomb fly a few times. It shows that they were human, but this was a question of respect, and I was losing it already. "Fine. Let's move on. Carrie," I gesture to a mousy blonde in the back who I'm sure has done the reading, "What are your thoughts on the detail here?"
She opens her mouth to answer when the bell sounds, signaling the student's release from class.
"Thank God," I can't help muttering low, under my breath. "Hannah, Greg, back here after school."
"Yes, sir," Hannah says, still smiling slightly as she gathers her books.
"Whatever," adds Greg.
---
I end up meeting Hannah in the hallway on the way to the classroom. I'm coming from my planning period in the English Commons (I have a lovely desk, crammed in there), and Hannah, I guess, is coming from her locker. "I hope you understand, Hannah, that this isn't anything personal against yourself or your brother."
She looks at me like the fact that I'm speaking at all is offending her. "Yes, Mr. Clark."
"It's just that there are rules in the classroom and it's important that they-"
She cuts me off. "I understand, Mr. Clark."
We reach the classroom and I hold the door open with a relieved smile and a gesture to indicate that Hannah should go ahead of me. Once inside, we take our usual seats, Hannah in the front row and me at my desk. "I hope your brother shows, Hannah," I say, eyeing the clock. "There is punishment for missed detention." I begin pulling papers out of my case.
"I haven't seen Greg since this morning. Yours is the only class we have together and I'm not his babysitter." I can hear the ire in her voice and don't look up.
"You should go ahead and get started on some homework, then," I say quietly, glancing up at her momentarily and then beginning to fill out the detention forms for the main office.
Now that I look at the records, something is off. I hold Hannah and Greg's schedules next to each other and it shows that they have four classes of seven together and even share a locker. Why would Hannah lie to me?
I look up when I hear the click of the door opening. I quickly glance at the clock. "You're late, Greg," I announce regrettably. I'm beginning to sense something strange in the room, something that I probably should have noticed long ago.
"I forgot," Greg mumbles, slinging his bag down, removing his jacket and sliding into his seat next to his sister.
--
I try to ignore them as long as they are quiet and appear to be getting something done. Still, it's hard to miss the looks that pass between them.
"Excuse me, Mr. Clark?" Greg's voice draws my attention from the papers I'm grading. "Can you come and explain this question to me?"
I shrug and say "Sure," pleased that he's actually working. I stand and take the dozen or so steps over to his desk. "What are you working on?" I lean down to look at the book that is open on his desk.
"It's actually something we're both working on," Hannah says, behind me, and stands, sliding out of her desk gracefully. "A special project." She stands too close at my back and places a cool hand at my elbow.
"What-"
Greg pushes out of his desk as well, and stands eye-level with me. He nods, not to me, but to Hannah, and suddenly I am on the ground. There are feet kicking me in the gut, and I curl up, grunting. "What are you doing?" I gasp out.
"Special project, sir," Hannah says, kneeling by my head and brushing my hair back a little.
The realization hits me as hard as their blows. "I'll yell, scream. You can't do this."
Hannah turns my face to make sure I see her smile. "And when they come to rescue you? What do you think will happen then? Who do you think they'll believe?"
Greg begins to unbutton his pants and sniffles. "Ms. Roth, we were just here for detention and he-he made me undress and he-" He works up a few tears, even, and my heart drops.
Hannah sits on my back and reaches around me, grasping for my belt buckle. I writhe under her, but she's heaver than she looks, and the pressure is deliberate. My hands are pinned under her feet.
"Are you ready, Greg?" she asks, her voice dripping with sweetness. She unhooks my belt and slides it through the loops. I begin to moan with discomfort and fear; from this angle I can't see much, but from the corner of my eye I see Greg's face, frowning with determination that dissolves into something different as I hear a zipper being undone.
Oh God, I think, and after a moment Hannah's hands are again on my pants, working them down. She pulls down my boxers as well, and I wonder how long I've been crying, because I suddenly notice that the carpet underneath my face is wet.
Hannah scoots back, moving the pressure further up my shoulders and my face is pressed harder into the floor. Her feet dig into my hands like nails, cutting into me. I feel hands on my bare ass and shudder.
"Now, Greg. You know what to do."
Author: Aphrodite_mine
Summary: A modern reversal and update of Hansel and Gretel. What would the story be today?
Fandom: None-this is an original.
Warnings: Non-con, and mention of incest
Tarot: 10 of Swords
Notes: Written for school, but also with this challenge in mind. Thanks to willowaus for the beta and the talk through.
Hannah and Greg
It's only the second week of school and already the classroom is out of control. Only two-thirds of the students are turning in their work, and only two-thirds of them are even pretending to stay awake for the whole class period. I'm going to be the laughing stock of the English department.
I'm barely nine years older than these kids, and the administration dumped three sections of Freshman English on me. For Christ's sake, I still remember this stuff from going through the system. I don't even need a syllabus. Freshman English is bottom of the barrel, and as long as I get through this, then I can start working my way up.
I'm standing at the black board, scratching words with dusty chalk that I can barely make myself care about, longing for a class - just one, God, I'd be happy with one - of Advance Placement Literature, or maybe Creative Writing…
"So what is the symbolism here, why does Thoreau spend so much time documenting this scene?" I don't even blame the kids who are sleeping, I can't even make this interesting to myself.
It's a relief when someone actually raises their hand. "Yes, Hannah?" She and her twin brother sit in the front row because of their bad vision. Why their mother doesn't take them to an eye doctor is beyond me, its not like they look poor or anything.
"Actually, I think the whole book was pretty much bull shit." She stares at me, like she's daring me to disagree. She lowers her pen and smoothes down her black hair, all without looking away.
The students who are awake giggle and start a low hum of chatter. I honestly agree, but I know this kind of thing can get out of hand fast. "Would you care to elaborate on your point of view, Miss Burns, without the vulgarities?" I say in my best 'teacher voice'. I turn to fully face the class. At least this is getting some of the kids to pay attention.
"Not really, Mr. Clark," Hannah smirks. "It's just bull shit."
I sigh. I really don't want to do this, but there has to be a line drawn somewhere, and this looks like as good a place as any. "Then I suppose I'll see you after school for detention."
I watch her face, but instead of reacting to me, Hannah eyes her brother, her lips curving upwards slightly.
"Well fuck that," Greg announces gleefully, much to the amusement of the class. Only Hannah doesn't laugh, but sits coolly, that same partial smile cutting across her face.
I can almost feel the downward spiral pulling me down, my classroom with it. "Would you like to join your sister after school, Greg?"
"If that's what it takes to defend my freedom of speech." Greg raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms, sitting back in his seat.
I rub at the bridge of my nose. A migraine is definitely coming on. How many weeks, now, until summer break? I don't want to be the kind of teacher who gives detention for cussing in class. Some of my favorite teachers in high school were the ones who let the f-bomb fly a few times. It shows that they were human, but this was a question of respect, and I was losing it already. "Fine. Let's move on. Carrie," I gesture to a mousy blonde in the back who I'm sure has done the reading, "What are your thoughts on the detail here?"
She opens her mouth to answer when the bell sounds, signaling the student's release from class.
"Thank God," I can't help muttering low, under my breath. "Hannah, Greg, back here after school."
"Yes, sir," Hannah says, still smiling slightly as she gathers her books.
"Whatever," adds Greg.
---
I end up meeting Hannah in the hallway on the way to the classroom. I'm coming from my planning period in the English Commons (I have a lovely desk, crammed in there), and Hannah, I guess, is coming from her locker. "I hope you understand, Hannah, that this isn't anything personal against yourself or your brother."
She looks at me like the fact that I'm speaking at all is offending her. "Yes, Mr. Clark."
"It's just that there are rules in the classroom and it's important that they-"
She cuts me off. "I understand, Mr. Clark."
We reach the classroom and I hold the door open with a relieved smile and a gesture to indicate that Hannah should go ahead of me. Once inside, we take our usual seats, Hannah in the front row and me at my desk. "I hope your brother shows, Hannah," I say, eyeing the clock. "There is punishment for missed detention." I begin pulling papers out of my case.
"I haven't seen Greg since this morning. Yours is the only class we have together and I'm not his babysitter." I can hear the ire in her voice and don't look up.
"You should go ahead and get started on some homework, then," I say quietly, glancing up at her momentarily and then beginning to fill out the detention forms for the main office.
Now that I look at the records, something is off. I hold Hannah and Greg's schedules next to each other and it shows that they have four classes of seven together and even share a locker. Why would Hannah lie to me?
I look up when I hear the click of the door opening. I quickly glance at the clock. "You're late, Greg," I announce regrettably. I'm beginning to sense something strange in the room, something that I probably should have noticed long ago.
"I forgot," Greg mumbles, slinging his bag down, removing his jacket and sliding into his seat next to his sister.
--
I try to ignore them as long as they are quiet and appear to be getting something done. Still, it's hard to miss the looks that pass between them.
"Excuse me, Mr. Clark?" Greg's voice draws my attention from the papers I'm grading. "Can you come and explain this question to me?"
I shrug and say "Sure," pleased that he's actually working. I stand and take the dozen or so steps over to his desk. "What are you working on?" I lean down to look at the book that is open on his desk.
"It's actually something we're both working on," Hannah says, behind me, and stands, sliding out of her desk gracefully. "A special project." She stands too close at my back and places a cool hand at my elbow.
"What-"
Greg pushes out of his desk as well, and stands eye-level with me. He nods, not to me, but to Hannah, and suddenly I am on the ground. There are feet kicking me in the gut, and I curl up, grunting. "What are you doing?" I gasp out.
"Special project, sir," Hannah says, kneeling by my head and brushing my hair back a little.
The realization hits me as hard as their blows. "I'll yell, scream. You can't do this."
Hannah turns my face to make sure I see her smile. "And when they come to rescue you? What do you think will happen then? Who do you think they'll believe?"
Greg begins to unbutton his pants and sniffles. "Ms. Roth, we were just here for detention and he-he made me undress and he-" He works up a few tears, even, and my heart drops.
Hannah sits on my back and reaches around me, grasping for my belt buckle. I writhe under her, but she's heaver than she looks, and the pressure is deliberate. My hands are pinned under her feet.
"Are you ready, Greg?" she asks, her voice dripping with sweetness. She unhooks my belt and slides it through the loops. I begin to moan with discomfort and fear; from this angle I can't see much, but from the corner of my eye I see Greg's face, frowning with determination that dissolves into something different as I hear a zipper being undone.
Oh God, I think, and after a moment Hannah's hands are again on my pants, working them down. She pulls down my boxers as well, and I wonder how long I've been crying, because I suddenly notice that the carpet underneath my face is wet.
Hannah scoots back, moving the pressure further up my shoulders and my face is pressed harder into the floor. Her feet dig into my hands like nails, cutting into me. I feel hands on my bare ass and shudder.
"Now, Greg. You know what to do."