#god my family gets on my nerves sometimes but at the end of the day I really really love them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

makeupbychio · 3 months ago

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divorce? hell nah // logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

Summary: You’d been fighting a lot with your husband Logan lately over pointless stuff, so Laura is worried about the future of her parent’s relationship. So are you.

Warnings: stupid fights, cursing, angst, reader dealing with depression, Logan being the best daddy and husband. Mentions of anxiety, family and work drama. Laura being your daughter so found family. Happy ending, mentions of smut.

Words: 2.5k.

A/N: Once again, a reminder that english is not my first language so I’m sorry if there is a mistake. This takes place in the world of Logan (2017) but everyone’s fine of course, let’s pretend that no one is dy1ng and you adopted Laura. I had a dream about this so enjoy, I wrote it so fast before I forgot it. Love y’all! <3 ALSO, you can read this with my previous Logan fic TRAINING SEASON, this is them in the future.

italics = past.

— — —

“Logan we need to stop fighting like this over stupid shit” you exhaled tired of this. Lately you've been fighting a lot with Logan, so frequent that it feels weird to you. Because not even when you were younger you remember fighting so much, and 80% of the time it was over meaningless stuff.

The day was over, so both of you were doing your night routine to go to bed. The nostalgia of a sunday night is all over the air. Logan just joined you after putting Laura to sleep, he closed the door of your shared room. You’ve been trying to get up from the bed but the day was really exhausting mentally for you.

Logan wanted to add that the last fight was you that started it but he held himself to make it worse because it would not add anything mentioning that right now. It was already in the past. “Yeah, I agree.” He just nods and stands far away from you with his hands resting on his hips, he’s looking at the floor thinking for a solution.

You are aware you are not at your best moment, you are dealing with so much lately. You are all the time worried about your family drama, then there are so many things changing at work that are stressing you out too. Also, of course the daily worries that include having a family.

Logan is aware of this tough moment you are going through and he’s always there to support you, to have a shoulder to cry on, all ears for you so you don’t have to hold anything in your mind. That’s also what you did when he’s dealing with shitty things.

But lately, god, everything seems to get on your nerves for the both of you. Sometimes the clothes are all spread on the floor, or when you arrived late from work and there is nothing on the fridge left to eat, or when Logan tries to defend Laura for something that really needs a punishment, etc. And it doesn’t help when you had a shitty day at work or keep receiving bad news from your family, so sometimes you just explode and Logan is also mad or had a shitty day so that’s when the fights start.

“We really need to stop, Laura's been asking if we are okay” you told him with tears in your eyes. “When you went for a run in the morning, she came here to our room and laid next to me in bed so we had breakfast together and she looked under the weather, like she was not having a good time even when we had sweet treats and stuff…” you started to tell him about what happened earlier. “So I asked her if everything was alright and she looked right into my eyes and with a sad face she asked me if we were going to divorce- and- I told you Lo it was the most heartbreaking thing she could possibly ask me and…” you started to sob by remembering that conversation.

Logan is now sitting next to you at the end of the bed. Holding your hand close to him, all of his attention to you. “And I was so shocked so I put my hands on her face holding her to really pay attention to what I was about to say…” you continued.

“No, baby. Why are you asking that? Your dad and I love each other so much, and both of us love you so so so so much. We are not getting divorced” you held her face trying your best not to cry in front of her, the thought of being apart from the little family you had with Logan made you sad.

“I’m asking because last night I heard you guys fighting, I mean you were raising your voices and then dad closed the door really hard. And it’s not the first time” Laura confessed and you felt bad that she had to listen to you argue. “Last week when I was outside playing with Franky I also heard both of you yelling”.

“I’m sorry, baby. You should not have witnessed that, don’t worry. With your dad we’re okay” you caressed her hair to give her some calm to her mind.

”My friend Dani told me that it happened the same to their parents that are divorced now. So I’m scared that one day dad will leave us just like Dani’s dad” Laura told you with tears in her eyes just at the thought of her dad leaving her and her mom.

That’s when your heart broke into a million pieces. You kept telling her not to worry, that you were having pointless arguments. You didn’t want to tell her about your problems at work and with your family because she’s a little girl, she should be worried about school and having fun as a kid and not about divorce and her dad leaving.

So once you noticed she calmed down, you stayed in bed the whole morning and watched a movie together with Franky on Laura’s lap. The dog she adopted never leaves her side especially if he senses that she’s sad.

And also you made up your mind that things needed to change, to stop these stupid fights with your husband.

You told Logan about what happened in the morning when he left for his daily workout. Not wanting to tell him during the day because Laura is so concentrated on every attitude of both of you. That’s why you are telling him now that she went to sleep. Logan sighs like never before, like he was holding his breath the whole time you were talking, but never letting go of your hands together. “I know our daughter is smart and so empathetic just like you, so I get why she’s worried. I had to admit that I closed the door so hard, that’s on me. We need to stop fighting over bullshit, babe. We need to fix this, but I’m not leaving you guys”. Logan let go of your hand to stand in front of you squatting down holding your knees, “I’ll NEVER leave you, you hear me? We had been through so much worse, remember? And we made it because I fucking love you and I know you love me”. Logan reassured you too in case the same thought that Laura has is placed in your mind too.

You caressed his cheek and looked into those beautiful eyes of his, “I love our family, Logan. Like you said we made it through so much worse, I’m sorry I’ve been irritated lately. That’s on me, I’m going to do my best” tears flowing down your face. Logan quickly wiped them off.

“Babe, I’m right here. I don’t know why but when you’re in a dark time you always felt free to cry and told me about it but this time it feels like you’re holding all of this sadness to bury it deep down. What 's going on? What changed?” Logan asked with curiosity because you’ve been together for years.

“I don’t know, Lo. Maybe the hormones, maybe I don’t want to be a burden for you guys. Like I have to be strong for Laura, she’s my number one priority right now and she had an awful life before she found us so I don’t want to give her all of my shit, she’s a kid. Like I said, she should be worried about school and having the childhood she deserves” you poured your heart out to your husband.

“My love you’ll never be a burden for me, you hear me? I need you to say it so that you understand. Besides, Laura needs to see us sad too, we can’t lie to her that life is all the time just joy. I’m not saying to tell her all of our problems, but that is valid if we feel some kind of way, we would be faking if we were smiling or just okay all the time”. Logan, the angry wolverine you used to know was gone the moment he met you back then in Charles’s mansion. Anger stopped being his only emotion, you made him feel in that same moment that he was always going to be able to show his real emotions and stopped playing this character of the angry and intimidating man.

“I understand, Lo”. You finally gave him a smile. It is not fair for you to struggle alone and let go of this stress by fighting. You really need to start saying what’s going on, and Logan is always going to be there for it. Just by thinking of the huge difference of the fights you used to have in the past, a small laugh escaped your mouth. Logan looks at you surprised but happy that you got something off your chest.

“What’s on your mind now, sugar?” Logan asked curiously.

“I just remember the things we used to fight when we started dating, I mean we were younger and sometimes really stupid. And also the fights we used to have for mistakes we made on missions. We still fight when the other is on the field out there in danger, the worry about losing the other one always starts an argument…” you answered.

“Yeah but those always ended up with a make out session…” Logan gave you a flirty grin, his dirty mind already enjoying the memories. To be honest, after a mission with or without an argument it always ends with both of you giving each other so much pleasure and comfort for being safe and sound.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?! THAT WAS WAY TO DANGEROUS!!” Logan losing his mind because you almost got killed out there.

“I HAD TO DO IT, I COULDN’T LEAVE THEM RIGHT THERE!!” you explained yourself why you came back to the field and risked your life. “IF I DIDN’T HELP THEM, NOBODY’S WAS GOING TO!”.

God, your empathy is one of Logan’s favorite things about you, but more than once it has given him almost a heart attack.

“NOT ALL THE TIMES WE CAN SAVE THEM ALL, I NEED YOU TO UNDERSTAND THAT. I CAN’T LOSE YOU, PRINCESS” Logan holding your shoulders steady.

Once you were back at the mansion, and in the privacy of your shared room, Logan wanted to keep talking about the risk you made, but you just wanted to take a shower to take off all of the work done. “Honey, I’m right here in one piece. I’m fine” you brushed his hair with your fingers to calm him down. Trying to get a smile from him.

“I insist, I can’t lose you. You’ll be freaking out too if it was me in your position” Logan raised his brow knowing you’ll be worried too about him.

“I know, I’ll be way worse hysterical” you admitted, but at the same time just trying to calm him down. Right now both of you need to relax after a hard mission. You kept brushing his hair until he stopped talking and just leaned into your touch. Both of you ended up taking a bath together and stayed all afternoon in the sheets making love. Other times the fights after missions didn’t seem to stop and led to angry sex.

“Now that you said that, it reminds me of Laura explaining to me something she realized when she heard us fighting last night and…” you started laughing but also felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, honey. We didn’t mean to raise our voices, we didn’t mean for you to hear us but sometimes with your dad we had our differences. But everything is fine now, we talked about it and it’s okay now” you didn’t lie. One thing you and Logan hate is to go to bed angry, it’s also true that you didn’t want Laura to hear it.

“Yeah, I know you were fighting because it wasn’t the happy screams you and dad make at night sometimes”. Laura said with the innocent intention a kid has. You almost choked on your cup of tea.

You don’t know if it was because of her powers that she heard the happy screams she’s talking about, because the house is huge and her room is not that close to your shared room. And since she arrived, every time you have sex with Logan both of you are really aware that there is someone else in the house so you keep your voice low and always lock the door. You don’t want to traumatize your daughter.

Not like before having kids, or when Laura is staying the night somewhere else, that Logan asks you to be loud so the neighbors can hear his name.

“Are you fucking kidding me she said that?” Logan laughing at your face, red like a tomato.

“Don’t laugh at that, Lo! It was so embarrassing to explain to her that it was a conversation for another day…” you hid your face in your palms, Logan still teasing you about your sudden shyness. “So I told her that her daddy was going to explain someday when she was older why adults make those happy screams” now you are teasing him because his face almost dropped. Already anxious about how he’s going to explain to his daughter how babies come to the world and all that stuff.

“Nope, because she’s never going to grow up. She'll always be our little girl” he tried to convince himself about that. You gave him a pat on his back that he can handle that.

“Our little girl is almost 12, babe. So you’ll have to have THAT talk sooner that you think with her. But don’t worry I’m sure you’re going to nail that because you are the best daddy”. You assured him.

God, you can picture in your mind the reaction of Logan when teenager Laura will bring her first partner. You’ll need to be there for him because your daughter is about to experience a lot of things and your husband will need your help.

“Don’t be a brat with me please, sweetheart I’m begging you” Logan easily put you on his lap, brushing your hair out of your face. “What if instead of giving me more anxiety you help me get rid of that anxiety we’ve been dealing with lately?” he kissed your neck, his breath so warm against your skin.

“What do you suggest, big boy?” his hand now traveling down your spine and you hold his face close to your chest, Logan leaving kisses on top of your clothed breasts. God, you miss this, you miss him being this closer.

“Maybe a bath or I can fuck you like this right now but we have to be really careful with the noises, especially you doll. I know you like to scream my name and how good I make you feel” Logan already taking his shirt off to whatever option you are down to. You smacked his toned chest at the insinuation, pulling him closer to kiss you with the eagerness you missed so much. He lifted you from your spot heading to take that bath, it was going to be a long night and tomorrow morning you both need to be up early to drop Laura off at school.

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alchemistc · 21 days ago

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Tommy had a younger sister. Eight years apart, Tommy knows intimately what it's like to be the main caretaker to a little girl with a dead mom and a shitty dad.

He'll give the Buckley parents props for at least trying, later on down the line. He hasn't spoken to his dad in years. But he sees the look Maddie gets sometimes, the quiet little corner she retreats to when the Saturday Night title fight is Evan v Margaret and Phillip, and he knows that space, the cavernous echo: could I have done more? and this was never supposed to be my job and will I make this worse or better if I intervene? what raw nerves will I expose if I cut open my wrists to fertilize this soil?

They were good at hiding it, for a while. Evan on his okayest behavior, Margaret and Phillip refusing to rise to any bait like the polite suburban family they were - the kind that would move their grieving child across state lines and force her to keep a secret for decades so that she could never move on from it.

(He's been angry for Evan for years, now, but he's been angry for Maddie too, for himself, for the fucked up things you can never quite prepare for the people that gave you life do to you.)

He had a sister.

And she was bright, and beautiful, and full of laughter and love even when Dad couldn't be fucked to sign her permission slips (Tommy can still forge his father's signature, has it down more precisely than even his own) or buy her a new pair of shoes when the soles broke free and they pinched her toes in tight.

He had a sister. She'd been pissed at him, ten years old and landing brutal kicks to his shins the day before he left for training. She'd been pissed at him, sixteen and quietly sullen over the phone when he told her he was staying in LA. She'd been pissed at him, twenty-two and rudderless while he let her crash on his couch for six months in the shoe-box loft he'd called home.

And she'd loved him. God, she'd loved him. Idolized him: learned football and baseball just to be able to talk to him about the few interests he'd had that his father hadn't dismissed out of hand; always at his hip when he slapped together Kraft Mac and Cheese for dinner and snuck her lunch money at the end of the week when the groceries had dwindled.

He hasn't talked to his sister in years, either.

Maddie tucks herself into the space to his right, glances out over the lawn where Tommy has been sneaking the third cigarette he's allowed himself in the last ten years. She shifts her weight, watches the cherry bloom in the low dusk light. "You gonna share?"

Tommy tips his head to look at her. Digs into his chest pocket for the Reds he'd bought two days before the Buckley parents descended on LA for the wedding.

Maddie's an old pro, apparently, fingers comfortably slack as she lifts the offering to her mouth, glances at him for a light.

The lighter is ancient, still has a snippet of his grandfather's favorite poem etched into the sidewall, though it's worn down and hard to read. The metallic clink of opening and closing the lid, spark igniting on butane with a flick of his thumb, had gotten him through some of his worst nights in Afghanistan. Maddie sucks against the filter and the flame catches thin paper and packed tobacco.

She grimaces at the taste, but pulls, waits, blows smoke out her nose.

"You'd think the Buckley Bowl would calm down after the twentieth rematch," she remarks. She's white-knuckling the railing with her free hand.

"Your dad's gonna come out here in ten minutes wanting to shoot the shit about the Pirates July slump like he didn't accidentally imply he'd have preferred me for a son at brunch yesterday."

Maddie sighs. "They're not always like this. I - You've seen them. I just think. I think my first wedding was a brawl and my second didn't happen as planned and Buck hasn't given them any leeway to throw around their opinions and..."

"You don't have to defend them, you know," Tommy says, and - he's not as close with Maddie as he'd like, but they've talked about it, a little. How lucky she is that Evan hadn't ever lost faith in her, how lucky Evan is to have always had her in his corner. How unfair it had all been. "Not to me."

Maddie's lashes are wet, the corners of her eyes glistening. "They shouldn't do this. Every time, they do this."

"Well, the wedding does come with a devilishly handsome new ally against them," he reminds her, and her laugh is a little soggy, but her eyes sparkle as she takes him in. She takes a drag, does a piss poor job of trying to blow smoke rings. Her hand is tiny when it drifts over his forearm and squeezes.

"Well, soldier, I think we're the cavalry."

Tommy butts out his cigarette into the solo cup he'd set out next to the Adirondacks, an hour after he'd bought the pack, holds it out for Maddie to do the same. Her smile is still a little wet, but it's just as lovely as her. Tommy makes a note to hug her extra hard before she leaves at the end of the night.

"Once more unto the breach," Tommy quotes, and slides the patio door open to let her take point.

#bucktommy #maddie&tommy #had the terrible thought: what if tommy understands maddie a little too well #and then this happened #bucktommy fic #probably the least i've said about the buckleys and still the worst i've ever portrayed them actually

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iznsfw · 11 months ago

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Ms. Kang Hyewon

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 3 - Kang Hyewon

IZ*ONE's Kang Hyewon x Male Reader Smut

9,122 words

Categories | femdom, mommy kink, degradation, angry sex, choking

Content warning | blackmail, degradation, Hyewon isn't so innocent here

Well, well, well, look who came back with Day 3.

My promise remains. Expect more, but on separate days. I won't run away with your money like a certain pre-

Thread isn’t claustrophobic. It slips through spaces not even your fingernail could pierce apart. Effortlessly, too. It isn’t afraid of being knotted up. It just needs guidance: a pinch to lead it through the eye and a pull to seam it through the hem.

You wish you wielded the same fearlessness. It’s thinner and more fragile than you (highly debated) yet it’s hardened to its life. The only thing you’re granted as a similarity to it is the need for guidance, not all of that shit about courage.

Maybe that’s why you became a fashion designer.

Needles have their own strengths, too. They’re not cowards to inflicting pain for aesthetics. Why do you think they stab so effortlessly through fabric and silk and skin and whatnot? They sharpen themselves through softness, and all that edge goes straight into the process.

And sometimes, your fingers.

“Fuck.” Your reverie is broken at last. From your thumb, a trail of red leaks. You’re used to the minor cuts and wounds, but the blood really does something to you. It reminds you of how fragile human anatomy is. One uncalculated move can end it all.

“You good?” asks Eunbi.

Suck on your thumb. A metallic taste settles over your tongue. She peers at you curiously; wave your hand at her dismissively to tell her it’s fine. This is everyday for you, like you said. Your heart will pump anxiously but that goes away, too. It’s all a vestige of time.

Flatten the vest top on the table. Wait, it’s not exactly a top yet if fringes of thread splay from the edges. You still have to work on that. Nothing is something when it’s not completed. It’s either you finish it grandly or leave it in pathetic tatters.

“You sure you're okay?”

“Just a little nervous,” you reply.

“I mean,” Eunbi laughs as she fixes her short hair into a ponytail, “she is Kang Hyewon.”

Not that she needs to remind you. Your nerves are in a wreck already. You’ve been replaying the pros of the situation in your head like a favorite song. Working for Hyewon would look good in your resumés. If time sees fit, you’d have your own line and everyone would want to wear it. Your name could be a staple of fashion, the god of gods. Something like that.

It only sucks that you’re painfully new to this world. This is the first time you’re this far from your family and friends. Seoul’s a far cry from your humble town. It’s the home of everything that matters. Nights of staying up drawing and designing couldn’t harden you for an industry that sways and shakes out the unfit.

This is your chance to find out if you’re one of them.

“The superstar who’s about to wear my shitty clothes.”

“They’re anything but shitty. You have seriously good ideas.” Always, Eunbi comes in to reassure you. That’s why you see her as a mentor. “She wouldn’t turn down wearing couture if she didn’t see potential in what you make.”

See, you would never have agreed to any of this. You’re a fresh graduate from some fashion school, and the only models you’ve worked on are the runway rejects. Fixing a sloppy first draft on a stick-thin, soulless girl is different from designing and dressing up Kang Hyewon.

She’s everything—model, actress, singer, and idol. She’s a gem for every brand out there. They’re all dying to get her to be their ambassador. Every director with a complete brain wants to cast her for their new drama.

And it’s her who can lift you to heights in your career. So you’d be an idiot not to seal the deal.

“Have you worked with her before?”

As your needle sews a story of fabric, Eunbi’s words whittle her story with Hyewon. Turns out, this is only her second time working with the star. She confirms that Hyewon is truly gorgeous in person with those god-given full lips and hardset eyes.

Apparently, first impressions are right after all when it’s with her—she’s a silent, withholding woman who doesn’t talk outside of necessity. Eunbi tells you her nerves were in knots the first time, but also informs you that as long as you do your job for her properly, there isn’t gonna be any problem.

“Just be careful in what you do and say,” Eunbi whispers. She peeks over at your nearly finished piece. “That’s turning out really nice, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

Look proudly at your handiwork. It’s a sleeveless top fashioned from denim, with a V-shaped curve at the stomach. You’ve attached strips of more denim on the front that are sewn on with threads that match the blue of the ocean, embedded into the chest to prevent dullness. You think it’s turning out pretty good, too.

You would’ve gone on smiling if it weren’t for what you remembered. “Wait, why do I have to be careful?”

“She’s not, like, shy or anything. Just really unfiltered when it comes to feedback. She told me the eyeliner I did on her was shit, and that I shouldn’t come back if I planned on doing that again.”

Doubts about the beauty of your design rise. It might look good in your eyes, but what if it doesn’t in hers? She’d probably see the lack of color and call it a monstrosity. She’s got the type of power to get away with brutal words, to leave your little self-confidence in pieces.

The leg-hugging jeans and vest now look painfully average to you. There’s no debating that she’d look good in it, but there’s that constant back-and-forth argument in your head about whether or not Hyewon would like it.

“Were you hurt?” you ask.

Eunbi wipes red lipstick from the edges of her mouth with the mirror’s reflection as guidance, then smiles. “She’s the kind of woman I’d let do more than hurt me.”

You don’t know what that was about, but you’re not one to pry. You don’t have the time anyway.

Assistants have poured into the room. It’s your sign to put in more work—their arrival means that Hyewon is about to come very soon. They’re all dressed in their uniforms, the kind that looks good but not too good that it takes away the fact that they’re just staff.

Eunbi shifts her weight from one stiletto to another. “Are you done?” she asks. She gazes over at your sewing as she taps anxious rhythms on the vanity table. Notice how she’s taken off her acrylics and in turn shows her cruelly bitten fingernails.

You huff. “I’m trying.”

Stick a red-studded pin through the denim to keep the vest in place. What shade of blue did you use again? Staring for lengthy minutes at your messy table doesn’t help you find it. Your chalks have left pink powder on the wood. Your threads are unspooled and everywhere. In the midst of it all, the star’s vest sits, still waiting to be finished.

“She’s getting here in five!” Yena shouts.

“Any updates there?” Eunbi says pleadingly to you, eyes full of tears.

“I said I’m trying, Eunbi.”

“Then try harder, fuck!”

Her hands have abandoned their rhythms and are squeezed up into tiny, helpless fists. She keeps peeking out of the dressing room as if she’d die on the spot if Hyewon were there already. This is the first time you’ve seen Eunbi this beside herself. Even her crew is shocked. Her fear infects them too and now all sets of scared eyes are on you. They’re depending on your speed for their careers. If you fall short, they fall short, too. It’s a domino effect of failure.

Yena pushes aside the hangers of clothing to frisk for the makeup kit. Chaeyeon has her hands in her air while Minju whimpers behind her. They all know one thing for sure: you’re never gonna finish on time.

Your needle fits and slips, fits and slips, fits and slips—

“Can’t you go any faster?” cries out Eunbi.

The thread almost pulls the rest of the fabric along it when you pull furiously. “Unless you want me to get stabbed in the fucking wrist,” you say, “I can’t.”

You prick yourself multiple times trying to speed up. Push the layered denim down. It’s like drowning a needle, letting it go up from the waves of clothes for air, then drowning it again. However, you don’t care for any casualties right now. You don’t care for deaths either. All you want is to do is finish this piece.

You hear three short knocks on the door. Your world stops, but your sewing doesn’t. You can do this. You can still make it look somehow finished.

“Ms. Kang!”

Curl.

Thread.

Knot.

You’re done. It’s safe to turn around.

All of the women along with Eunbi have bowed deeply. Standing in front of them is the straight-postured form of the adored celebrity. The assistants look like they’re an estranged cult of some sorts who’s worshiping a goddess who’s come to earth.

Strangely, you find out that, as you stare at Kang Hyewon, you understand.

You can now grasp the idea why she’s ventured into so many fields: she can do it all. She can be it all.

Her hair is as black as night, and so are her irises. Her expression tells you no background, not even of a troublesome drive or a good meal. No, not any of that, for Hyewon’s face is a serious little look of professionalism. It’s the kind people of her status wear—celebrated doctors, movie stars, activists. But for some reason, it looks so much hotter on her.

It would take skilled mathematicians and scientists to find out what’s behind her neutral expression, but it doesn’t take a degree to know that she’s downright beautiful.

The pictures her dedicated fansites take of her truly don’t do justice to her attractiveness. Her face is smaller than a child’s. The nonchalant stare in her eyes makes her look out of this world, which could be said too for her preppy clothes. She’s a fashion icon for the younger generation after all.

A natural pair of plump lips doesn’t show a sign of a smile. Nevertheless, she’s a beautiful woman. You assume that it’s how it is for her everyday, just like drawing is your daily routine.

“Hello.” Hyewon’s voice is surprisingly feminine yet husky. She looks at you all indifferently, then places her bag on a nearby chair. Each action of hers is minimal and measured.

“Would you like to get dressed, Ms. Kang?” asks Eunbi, her voice a pitch too high.

She nods.

You hand over the jeans and shirt. Make a beeline for the exit. There’s a reason why an all-female staff was hired for Hyewon. You were taught in school that you best not dress them up directly if they’re a celebrity and you aren’t known in the industry yet. There’s all the reason to fear: hidden cameras and microphones, leaked footage, the like. While you’re not a man whose intentions are dark, you still follow protocol.

“What are you running away for?”

Your shoes stop paving the way to the door. Was that Hyewon? “What?” you say.

Eunbi winces. Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. You don’t state that in that tone to a woman of that class.

Hyewon sighs audibly. “Can you look me in the eyes when I talk to you?”

You’re cold yet trepidation prickles your skin like fire. Slowly, almost comically, turn around. Her coat is off, leaving her in a skirt and a sleeveless undershirt on which she’s crossed her arms above. So how can you look at her directly? That body of hers is shockingly easy on the eyes.

“You’re the fashion designer, right?” she asks.

Smile awkwardly. “I, uh—”

“Then why are you leaving? Come over here and help me. I want to see if you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m, a little, uh, actually—”

“You’re actually what?”

Your mouth’s dry. Eunbi and her crew look too scared to remind her that you’re an amateur. You haven’t dressed up a star and you definitely aren’t a professional.

But what can you do? Look at her—a woman who could crumble your career into shards if she said so and blacklist you from the industry forever—and tell her no?

So, you approach.

Is it a blessing that you’re granted the honors of removing her underclothes? Or a curse?

As you undress her, you’re given the affirmation that her body is more than easy on the eyes. It’s fucking to die for. Her waist isn’t concerningly tiny, but shows a defined curve that elevates to her torso. Her breasts are large for her frame, barely fitting the size of her lace bra.

“Woah, what are you doing?” you say, eyes wide at Eunbi suddenly unclasping said bra. You feel like a Victorian man catching sight of ankles.

Eunbi looks confused. “Didn’t you say a bra would ruin the look? And that we should use nipple tape?”

Hyewon stares at her, then looks at you, waiting for an answer.

“Oh, right.” You chuckle tensely. “Sorry.”

Your lips are pursed to keep you from hissing in embarrassment. Now you probably look like a creep. Your fright and wariness are taking control, and you have no idea what to do.

You conveniently close your eyes when the bra’s taken off. Take the vest from Yena and raise it above Hyewon’s head. No matter what, you’ll keep your eyes up. Not below, where her breasts are sure to catch you off guard; not to the side, where they might be assuming you’re everything bad; but up. Nowhere else.

“It looks beautiful on you.” Minju’s smile is less nervous now that the job is done.

Her remark is nothing short of the truth. The garment slips onto Hyewon’s body like water. The defined carve of her clavicle stands out above the conservative neckline. Still, her bare arms alone will already have people thinking of something. The jeans accentuate her slim long legs elevated by a pair of expensive heels. She doesn’t need makeup to look good in what you sewed for her. Her body and face do the job.

Hyewon doesn't respond to the compliment. She simply sits down on the swivel makeup chair, crosses her legs, and pulls out her phone. Her thumbs twiddle with a game you’ve seen her advertise before. She’s true to her endorsements.

Minju carefully fills the brims of her eyelids with sharp cat eyeliner. Hyewon still doesn’t look up from her phone. You guess she’s used to people adapting to her and not the other way around.

You like the touch of the fierce red lipstick Eunbi applies on her later on. It’s a bold statement, something that goes like: It’s me, Kang Hyewon; this is the face of a woman who can destroy you, and I promise that you’ll love it.

“You look great, Ms. Kang,” Eunbi compliments her cheerfully, clicking the lipstick back.

Hyewon stares at herself in the mirror. She’s a silent observer, taking in her reflection and studying it closely.

A lunar eclipse personified, a smile stretches on her lips that releases your held breaths. “I know.”

Mirrors lined with shining diamonds. Words that spell the house of fashion emblazoned in lights. Expensive makeup behind glass. Bags that are worth your tuition sitting on displayed pedestals as if they didn’t know their own worth. The event is a never-ending sea of vanity for the wealthy and the west. You can’t believe you’re playing a part in it, although you’re a sheep among well-dressed wolves.

Crowds of reporters and photographers wait at the main hall. There’s no questioning who they’re here for. Although Jang is undoubtedly a big name, so is Hyewon. They were right to recruit her. You’ve never seen a crowd this big, even for fashion. You wonder how much they paid her to be the ambassador. Must be millions when all the other houses are dying to have her. She doesn’t look like one who kindly allows lowballing.

Neither does this man. He’s grand in his custom Victoria Jang and shoes that have the glimmer of stars themselves as he stands at the center. He must be the MC; he has a name tag to his breast pocket and a mic in his fist.

“Dude, did you know Anya Taylor-Joy’s gonna be here?” Rafael tells you.

“The chick from that cool chess movie?”

“Yeah,” he replies. He gestures to the small screen that shows her holding a lipstick to her jaw. It would be hard to see it behind the scrambling reporters. Luckily, as the designer, you scored a nearby spot backstage. “Jennie, too!”

The two are gorgeous, but you’re honestly more interested in Hyewon. If people see she’s wearing your clothes, they’d want to hire you, too. She doesn’t follow the trend; she is the trend. Soon, you’ll see Korea filled with women wearing the same shirt, the same jeans, the same style…

“We’re proud to present Jang’s first store in Korea,” says the MC. Yep, you were right. “This is a monumental stepping stone for our founder, Ms. Jang Wonyoung. Please welcome her with a hearty applause!”

You know all about Jang Wonyoung. She’s a self-made woman whose passion for beauty got the attention of the public, especially the western world. She’s always busy despite her tender age of nineteen: performing onstage with her group IVE, traveling, founding a new school in meager areas. She’s almost at the same level as Hyewon in terms of stardom.

Wonyoung comes out from the background, dressed fashionably as always. A polite smile decorates her glossed lips. It’s caught by the flashes of cameras and the reporters’ cheers.

“Hello, thank you for coming.” She brushes back her fringe and folds her hands. “Opening a branch here in my home is an achievement I’m forever grateful for. I would like to thank you all greatly for the success it’s brought about.

“Please,” she says, “take the time to immerse yourself in our array of products. Try a new trendy look with Jang Beauty—”

She extends an arm to the variety of products protected under firm glass. There’s powder, eyeliner, and blush. Actually, there’s a little of everything. There’s colors fit for every complexion, dark or light, and a palette of rainbows.

“—or flaunt your own style with our new arrival bags and purses.”

See, they’re the bags which immediately give the impression of expensiveness. The accessories are reserved to warm or light hues accompanied with Wonyoung’s signature rabbit logo. One even features her signature, stylishly drawn on quality canvas.

“Our helpful staff are here to answer your questions and assist you, but for now, please meet our muses.”

The camera shutters multiply when Kim Jennie enters the frame. Another “it” girl, she’s from a globally loved K-pop group whose influence couldn’t be denied even by the worst liars. She made all the buzz for Jang when a news article that quoted Wonyoung’s adoration for her was released. As expected, social media received the news happily. They made parallels with Wonyoung and Jennie, created fan accounts, and bought from Jang, even if the house initially opened in the United States.

Wonyoung’s smile is wide. You think you see a little of yourself in her. There’s certain pride in seeing someone loved and adored wearing your design.

Jennie waves briefly to the crowd before settling in a poised stride stage left.

Anya Taylor-Joy comes in next. Rafael makes a joke about how the press would have a difficult time trying to translate her name into Hangul characters correctly. She answers a question from the crowd sweetly with a translator’s help, and stands a yard from Jennie. Seeing the two women side by side stuns you—Jang really did emphasize how there’s beauty in everything and everyone, including those from different sides of the world.

“And finally, we would like to present Jang’s new ambassador.” Wonyoung’s beaming positively. “Welcome to Jang, Kang Hyewon!”

Suppressed screams fill your ears. The women at the mall can’t believe a friendly outing to the mall grabbed them a chance to see her in person. She’s the kind of girl who’s everywhere, and still manages to make you look. To make you want to be her or be with her. Perhaps those two at the same time?

You stare at her. Hyewon is flawless. Her slight tan is a nice break from the whiteness of the cameras. Her eyes seem to single out everybody in the crowd. The ambassador stands next to Wonyoung, a hand on her own hip, and lets a slight Mona Lisa smile paint her face.

Perfection.

How does she do so little but still attract everyone? You’re not an exception. You find yourself forgetting that you made those clothes—she owns them now. They’ll be associated with her name and not yours.

Do you even have a problem with that?

“Jang’s vision is to highlight beauty in everyone,” Wonyoung says. “Ms. Kang Hyewon is the perfect ambassador. She is an idol, singer, dancer, model, muse, and everything you can think of. She is the personification of beauty and versatility. We are proud to have her.”

You would be, too.

You were here to make a name for yourself, not fanboy over her. Here you are anyway doing it.

Hyewon stands next to Wonyoung and nods humbly. “I’m honored to be named the ambassador for Jang.” She bows deeply. Her hands are together on her stomach. “Please expect more from us because we will deliver.”

Perhaps that’s a statement bolder than the red painted on her lips.

“To the name of beauty!” a reporter raises a glass and chugs it. You don’t know where that came from, but it draws collective giggles.

Wonyoung laughs. “To the name of beauty!”

Hyewon jokingly raises an imaginary shot high in the air. The simplest actions don’t bar her from being beautiful. Just look at how her hair falls perfectly over gorgeous shoulders, how her hips stick out at the sides of the jeans—

How the sound of fabric ripping loudly stuns the crowd.

Your eyes go wide. The left strap of her top has torn apart. The two aidless halves collapse on the sides uselessly. The attire sags from the front and leaks the view of one of her breasts. Maybe they should have told her to keep the bra on—her left tit with nothing but nipple tape on is painfully shown off to hundreds of people.

Hyewon’s eyes fill with alarm. All confidence is lost as she tries to cover her exposed breast up. But the deed is done. Worse, the flashes don’t stop. The photos will soon take to the internet and, regardless of her power to bend things to their will, can never truly be eradicated. The articles will go viral, too. No one will forget this moment of Kang Hyewon finally showing vulnerability.

“Ms. Kang—” Wonyoung says in a thin voice. She didn’t imagine this special day would take a drastic turn. She awkwardly laughs, because what else can she do? As rich as she is, she can’t pay a crazed scientist to implement a memory-erasing chip in these people’s brains. The event is officially ruined.

And it’s all your fault.

Still, she generously steps in front of Hyewon to help. Similar to every attempt to salvage her dignity, it’s useless. The ambassador she relied so much on is already walking away. She’s leaving everything behind and won’t look back. Tonight is a night of many firsts, and right now, this is her first time retreating.

Aside from the sounds of phones and camcorders, all that’s left to hear is the furious clicking of Hyewon’s heels. Her strides are short and quick.

One step, five steps, ten steps… then thirteen.

It takes a total of thirteen steps for Hyewon to exit and come to you.

You couldn’t be an unluckier dead man.

Hyewon is the grim reaper. She wields fury instead of a scythe, wears now defective clothes instead of a dark cloak. The imminent loss of life is frightening regardless of being faced with a pretty woman. Anyone would get on their knees and resort to the unthinkable to experience this with the celebrity right now. So why are you as cold as a corpse?

“You.”

One word is enough to make you want to die early.

You look forward while your steps go backward. Your feet can pave the longest reversed path and you’d still be left with no escape. Hyewon is faster than you are. The rest of the staff are in the crowd or in another room; they can’t help you. Nobody can tell her to stop.

You doubt she’d listen anyway, and you know because you’re looking in her face: the face of death. Gone is the blasé mood surrounding her, the mystery in her that people would pray rosaries to venerate. What’s taken its place is an Ares-born wrath that’s at odds with her Aphrodite visuals. Her eyes are large with anger and short angry rasps leave her mouth.

“Ms. Kang,” you say, your words a mute plea. “Really, I apologize—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Hyewon’s forearm knocks into your neck and catapults you to the dressing room door. The wood gives way, much to your horror. You barely make it on the plush chair with how your feet struggle to keep upright.

She looms over you hauntingly, tall in her black heels. It’s a reminder that she really is above you in everything: positions, status, wealth—

Intimacy?

Why is she straddling you? You don’t know what you’re supposed to feel, much more where to look. Adding to her center literally being seated above your crotch, she didn’t even bother to fix her wardrobe malfunction. There’s no might left in you when her fingers curl into your collar and tighten it up to your neck.

“You little shit.” She coils the fabric around your throat harder. Wracked coughs fight their way out of you. “An incompetent one, too. This is all your fault.”

Her voice is rougher when she’s angry. It’s like she has a switch that she clicks on and off to be what she has to be: the Kang Hyewon everyone idolizes; and the one people would be afraid of. It doesn’t take a wicked guess to figure which one you’re encountering now.

“Ms. Kang,” you say weakly, “please.”

You inhale raggedly through your nose. Hate how comforting her expensive perfume is to your senses when she’s doing everything but making you at ease. Hate how attractive she is. Hate how you ruined the day that was supposed to change your life forever. Hate how a small part of you doesn't hate being under her.

For others to understand you, they need to put themselves in your shoes. If an A-list star who’s as gorgeous as Hyewon was snugly seated on their lap, wouldn’t they feel the same? Wouldn’t they feel the stir in their pants, the heat in their chests?

You’re fucked in the head. But she is, too. You’re a match made in the depths of hell.

“I-I can explain.”

Your pulse beats beneath her palm. Its faltering rhythm brings cruel satisfaction to her, making her face spread into a wicked smile.

As Hyewon’s almond eyes close into tyrannizing slits and her lips pull at the ends into a closed smirk, you realize why she rarely grins. You’re fucking terrified. It’s a simper reserved for little satisfaction and great anger. How can a woman be this beautiful yet this cruel?

“Explain then,” she allows. The ampleness of her lips has little distance to your mouth. “But if you think for one second I’m letting you go, you’re as dead as your career.”

Your career never started. You were young once. You had dreams of making yourself known and making your family proud. If today never happened, if your needle seamed the thread just a bit tighter, you still would have had a chance to go on.

Now you’re neither young nor old, with neither a future or past.

Your dreams are broken, just like her clothes.

“Please, Ms. Kang. I was in a rush. I didn’t think it would undo like that.”

She laughs. It’s another rare occurrence that scares the shit out of you. It transforms into a sarcastic little scoff when she meets your eyes again. “I gave you days. I gave you a fucking chance to prove your worth when I could’ve hired any dickhead out there. And what did you do? You screwed it up.”

With each word she spits, your collar wrings around you more compactly. You feel hot and breathless but to Hyewon, your skin is deadly cold to the touch. Nevertheless, she doesn’t let up.

“I’ll pay for the damage,” you offer bleakly. “I’ll apologize. I’ll admit that I was wrong to… hahk, to the media. Just please don’t blacklist me.”

She shakes her head. “That isn’t enough.”

It isn’t? What could you do? You’ve already said you’ll pay more than you can to amend. You told her you’d go to the press and bare your wrongdoings. What else does she want? She already has everything.

“You wanted to see me naked, didn't you?” Hyewon snarls. “You planned it all out.”

You choke, and it’s not because of her hands digging into your flesh. “N-no! I swear—”

In the olden days, prophecies were told by an oracle. People would go on quests and seal their fates in accordance with them. Now, they’re in the little things, like jokes that suddenly bleed into reality, and, in your case, deja vu.

You say deja vu because you know the sound of ripping fabric all too well.

It interrupts your words and catches you by surprise. Hyewon has wrenched apart the buttons of your shirt down to your stomach. The band of your underwear peeks out above your pants, as well as the stomach you haven’t taken the time to tone in a while.

“There,” she says. She slinks down your lap till her knees touch the floor and she’s tearing your pants, too. More buttons are sent flying in the air. “Now we’re both naked. Isn’t that what you wanted? To get to say that you fucked Kang Hyewon?”

Your pants add to the pile of clothes and buttons on the ground. You can’t even blush or protest; Hyewon is unstoppable when she’s angry. Her soft hands, unlearned in the ways of hardship, somehow have the strength to cut and slice and pull at your clothing. She’s not leaving one speck of fabric on for modesty.

“I, I don’t want to fu– to have sex with you, Ms. Kang.”

“Baby.” Hyewon deadpans, laughing a little as she traces the curve of your cheek. “Everyone wants to fuck me.”

She takes off her shirt and tears off the nipple tapes. Her pretty brown nipples are uncovered, and you can’t stop staring. Her body is a model of perfection in every category. You’ve got her flat tummy, curved waist, wide hips, and breasts that really should have a warning sign lest you harm yourself looking at them. Unfortunately, they don’t have a warning label, and Hyewon catches your wandering eyes.

“Fucking pervert.”

You look away, but there’s nowhere else to stare, so you say, “No, please, I didn’t… no, I didn’t—”

“I know what I saw.”

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

“That’s not how you say it.” Hyewon suddenly wraps her hand around your stiffening cock. Her squeeze is painful. “You sit there, bow your head, and say: ‘Sorry, mommy.’”

You’re flabbergasted. “What?”

You yowl when she squeezes harder and starts to pump you to full mast. It’s a painful pleasure, a guilty danger. Hyewon’s eyes trained on you are even more so.

“You heard me. If you want to save your career, do as I say.”

You whimper into the eerie silence as the woman curls her fist around your member as if she were choking it. How did you land into this situation? How were you so fucking stupid that you thought a week would be enough to finish the piece?

Now you’re here, in this enclosed dressing room, with a celebrity cruelly torturing your penis and demanding that you call her mommy. Look to the right then to the left and see that no one’s coming to your rescue. This is the real world, and as absurd as it is, you’re on your own.

Hyewon’s fingernails threaten to pierce the sensitive skin. “Be a good boy,” she growls.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, mommy.”

(You mean it, you mean it, you mean it.)

“That wasn’t so hard. But I’m not done with you just yet.”

She leans forward. Your face twists while she wraps her soft tits around you. Her cleavage is so deep, so full that your length is completely lost in it. You moan embarrassingly, and it’s too late to cover your mouth when she’s already smirking.

“Because you wanted to see my tits so bad,” she says, rubbing her tits in opposite directions on your member, “I’m gonna fuck you with them. I don’t care if you cum like a little bitch or not; I’m not stopping.”

You’re starting to leak. Hyewon’s sweat combined with your precum lubricates you and allows for more delicious, slippery friction. She pushes herself up and down repeatedly, continuously trapping your cock between her amazing boobs. She could do this forever. On the other hand, you’re close to losing it.

“I’m not gonna stop. You brought this upon yourself. You understand me, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

A deserved silence. Her eyes speak of an immediate death that follows a wrong answer.

Close your eyes. You know what you’re supposed to say. “Yes, mommy.”

Strangely, she’s exactly the type of woman who deserves that title. Her stony expression doesn’t evaporate from that beautiful face although sweat’s started to roll down it from how mercilessly she titfucks you. She shows no signs of sympathy for your situation. Why would she when she’s accustomed to control, and you’ve just taken that from her? You took her control from the people who’ve made her famous. This is your punishment.

Each pleasured expression you make draws a haughty smile from her. It’s as inspiring as critical acclaim to her, for she cups her tits tighter around your shaft and pumps away. You’re her toy for tonight. If she can’t regain her control over the public, she’ll show you why she deserves to have it:

One, she’s tireless.

Her lower lip is under her teeth as she spills effort into persecuting your cock. She’s unblinking—she’s too focused on your reactions to close her eyes. It’s not like she’d care if your reaction is violent or pained or good. Hyewon would still go on fucking you.

“Of course you like this.” Spit covers your cockhead, a sign of her distaste. “You perverted virgins are all the same.”

“I’m not perverted, mommy.”

“What’s next? You’re gonna tell me you’re not a virgin?”

“I’m, n-not a vir—”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

She continues grinding her pillowy breasts on you. Their undersides touch your balls while her nipples brush against your stomach. Whatever move she does makes you shiver.

If you had no escape from the enigma that is Kang Hyewon, neither did your cock. Her bust makes sure of that. It surrounds it as if determined to suffocate an ejaculation out of it. The precum from your tip just isn’t enough.

Two, she doesn’t rely on anybody.

Nobody told her to fuck you. Nobody told her to strip and use you. Those are the choices she made by herself, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t perform them with dedication. She doesn’t need anybody’s help in ruining you when she can do it herself.

So she does. Hyewon sinfully lets saliva drip from her chin and onto her chest to help speed up what’s already a vicious pace. The cold drool makes you hiss. Her warm breasts are both a reprieve and retribution. They carry out soft comfort but give out your quick punishment at the same time. It’s funny to think how they’re as versatile as she is.

Three, she’s the only one who’s ever made you cum like this.

“Mommy!” The word was never intended to be said. But it’s unavoidable; Hyewon’s too hasty, and it’s becoming too much. You can’t hold back on letting her know her ownership of you.

You can’t hold back the messiness of your cum as well. Bursts of white jet her chest and her neck. You whimper to your wits’ end and she doesn’t stop in spite of it. She keeps overstimulating you till the leak of semen becomes a mere dribble.

Hyewon climbs on your lap again, her vagina placed just in front of your spent shaft. “You’re getting used to it, huh?”

Your eyes are on her, as everyone else’s are when she’s under the lens of a camera. You’re horrified; almost every part of her torso is covered with your cum. Her tits are coated grandly with strong splashes. The white liquid drools down her tummy, then to her jeans.

You just came on Kang Hyewon.

Push her away, cursing quietly. You’ve no reputation left to save now. No dignity, no image, nothing. You should have fought back. A junior stylist shouldn’t be getting intimate with a superstar.

“Ms. Kang, I should go,” you stammer. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

None of this was supposed to happen. You wish you could have turned back time and stopped yourself from going to fashion school. If you didn’t go, you wouldn’t have gone on the path of designing and wouldn’t have accepted her invitation to design for her and Jang. It’s all so fucked up that you’re actually reconsidering religion.

Hyewon considers this. To your relief, her professional tone returns. You’re able to breathe now. It’s over.

“You’re not gonna help me clean up?” she says finally.

“Oh… yes, I’m sorry.”

There’s no tissues or washcloths around. You have to be resourceful. It’s painful wiping up something so inappropriate with the shirt you designed, but it’ll do. The semen embeds into the denim during your dutiful clean-up. It’s humiliating—the only thing that comforts you is that, after this, you and Hyewon will part ways and never speak again. You both have something to hold over the other. Keeping your mouths shut will keep you safer than sorrier.

More worries surface. Did someone hear or see you? Are there hidden cameras here? You’ll have to inspect the place, especially after you think you don’t remember Hyewon locking the door.

“Thank you.” Hyewon crosses her arms and looks down at the stained vest that started all of this. “Now suck your cum out of it.”

You want to cry. This is far from over. You’re not done here, and you won’t be until she says so.

She cocks her head. “I paid for it, and I don’t want flaws,” she says matter-of-factly. “So you either suck your filth out now or I might just drop the Somun magazine editor a visit.”

Stare at her with tear-filled eyes. What can you do?

Attach your lips to the blemished denim. Suck on it forcefully. The taste brings more tears and some even slide in pathetic drops down your face. How did it all come to this? The amount of hard work you put in school surely did not earn you this, right?

You were raised too soft. Maybe hanging out with the rebellious boys back in elementary would have saved you her domination. You could have negotiated with her, maybe even argued that you weren’t allowing this to happen to you. But those happen in parallel universes, where you’re a little stronger, a little wiser. Here, you’re just a man who’s not particularly excellent.

“Good job,” Hyewon says. “I guess you’re not that much of a lost cause.”

Her backhanded praise is sweet to your ears rather than mocking.

She clicks her tongue. “All that cum should have went in my pussy, you know.”

You hang your head to hide your blush. You’re glad thoughts aren’t visually presented. Otherwise, Hyewon would put you down further.

Hyewon places a finger below your chin and tilts it up. You’re forced to meet her eyes. There comes all the hate again. It pours into your heart freely like a fountain. It’s not hate for her, but for yourself. If you didn’t crumple that easily for women like Hyewon—women who like control and give orders and get a kick out of humiliating other people—maybe a whole other fate would have been in store for you.

Fright always gives way to yearning. She’s a bitch who thinks too highly of herself, although understandably so. She hurt you so much and through it all, you still want to hear her praise you.

She smiles.

Yep, Kang Hyewon is irredeemably, irrevocably evil.

“And you owe me a whole lot of it,” she says, and adds, in a sickeningly sweet voice, “baby boy.”

No horror film can scare you like she does. She’s a phantom of beauty and power who will haunt you forever. All this could be done and you’d still think about her. You’ve become another one of Hyewon’s fanatics who allows her to do anything and everything to them.

Hyewon shoves you on the dressing table. The cold white surface cools your skin, but you know it’s about to get heated soon. She’s spanned her legs over your hips again. Her aggressive hands grip your shoulders. Somehow, you never want them to leave your touch.

Then you’re kissing her. The other way around, you mean—Hyewon initiates it by closing the distance and biting your lip. She’s a starved kisser who devours you like a wolf. Her tongue curls around yours and she dives in deeper. You’re deprived of any breath, any source of oxygen. Part your lips to kiss her back, but she’s already locked her mouth on them.

Hyewon sweeps her hair back, readying herself for the final act. If mirrors could blush, you have no question that they would upon seeing her. Attractiveness is a natural thing to her—you can see it in the sway of her arms, the thickness of her thighs, and the way she carries herself. She acts like she’s entitled to everything, and that includes your cock.

She’s too fucking hot that you’d ignore all her cons and give it up to her.

She knows that. She circles her core around your tip. You moan immediately. She feels so good, and you’re not even inside her yet.

“You like that?” she sneers after she pulls away. “You like my pussy on your cock?”

She grinds her slit along your cockhead. Her moans are surprisingly sensitive, high in pitch and airy. You’re granted exclusive listening to them when you hit her clit. She moves it there particularly, because those moaned questions she asked you are just for her own ego. She only cares for her own pleasure, and it just so happens to be ignited by a weak man whose type is crazy, unhinged women. Whose type just so happens to be her.

She’s so wet that sounds of drenched squeaks fill your ears. You’re nothing else except certain that she really, really gets off on being such a bitch. Her wicked leer couldn’t ever fade from her face, not if you keep flashing those exhausted needy expressions.

“Answer me,” Hyewon says. She glides her fingertips from your broad shoulders to your neck. A threatening grip, a deadly fate. “You know mommy doesn't like to be kept waiting.”

“Yes, mommy.”

“Do you want me to ride your cock, hm?” Every fragment she speaks makes her choke you harder. She’ll send you to heaven then hell, where you’ll meet her all over again. “Do you want me to keep you inside me until I’m all done and satisfied?”

“Yes… oh fuck, please!”

“I fucking thought so.”

She sinks herself down in one go. You cry out. Hyewon’s tight pussy welcomes you and traps you right up to the hilt. The hard grip of her cunt disallows you a break; her pace is one of anger that’s unrelenting and harsh.

Her thighs crash down on your lap and rise, a cycle that never ends. You’re left even more breathless by her soft breasts smothering you. It’s the best way to go out. They bounce marvelously in front of your face, your nose pressed to the little space between them and your mouth kissing wherever it can. You lick at her tits until you’ve licked all the cum that might have remained on them.

Your lips attach themselves to her nipple. As an effect, the star’s cunt clamps around you with the hold of a guilty pleasure, a taboo vice. It doesn’t intend on letting go unless you decide you want it to go. But you have the feeling that your probable pleas won’t budge Hyewon’s heart.

“Mommy’s baby boy,” Hyewon says. Her tightness grows and so does the volume of her heavy gasps. “Mommy’s slutty baby boy who’d do anything to get this pussy.”

You want to tell her that what she said is far from the truth. You didn’t want to cause a wardrobe malfunction. You didn’t want to anger her. But now, when presented with the heat of her impossibly wet vagina, you realize you actually would. You try to meet her expectations, nursing on her nipple and guiding her movements with your hands on her wide hips. What you want is for this to be enough, but it just isn’t. Hyewon always wants more.

You can see it in the crash of her butt on your thighs, the shouty cries that she lets go of, the grip on your neck that she doesn’t. A woman accustomed to the scrutiny of the public eye would never let a strand of her hair go knotted. But when it comes to punishing people, to making them the accessory she carries, she doesn’t care anymore. Her usually prepared and counted movements become frantic. Her quietness isn't a case of the current times when she’s using you as her little fucktoy.

Kang Hyewon is a mess, and you are, too.

“Mommy, mommy, mommy!” Your yells crack and fade—she doesn’t.

Hyewon doesn’t let up. Her fluttering walls make sure to leave your legs stagnant. You can feel her manicured nails scrape your skin and her thin legs hug your hips. The hours she spends in the gym can’t be that long for her stamina to remain this strong. Maybe she has a personal trainer, a healthy diet. Maybe she owns some weights around the house.

Maybe she owns you.

“You sound pathetic. Just keep sucking those tits.” She removes her hand from the base of your neck, but leaves you asphyxiated anyway when she pushes her face into her breasts.

The mirror bears your combined weight. You try to lift your head. Hyewon chases your movements. You’re forced to inhale through your nostrils, taking in her powdery perfume and lightly sweaty scent, and keep your mouth busy on her boobs.

You flick her nipple with your tongue. She holds you to her chest and promises no escape. To be fair, you could stay here, smothered by her breasts forever. You’d have little complaint when they’re heavy and soft and sweaty. Your mouth stays attached to them and brings her on the road to orgasm.

“Greedy little boy,” Hyewon scoffs. “You’re about to cum, aren’t you? I bet you held it out just so I could keep riding you.”

Your cock feels sore already. Although her insides are warm and soaked enough for the entering and leaving to be slick, you’ve been trying to hold back for so long you think you’ll cry. You have to tell her. Perhaps it’ll lessen her anger.

“I’m gonna cum, please, mommy.”

She cruelly bounces faster. Her hips are that of a veteran dancer’s, grinding to and fro and rotating. You’ve figured it out: the reason why she’s never had a dating scandal is that no man would be able to handle her. She’d drain him nightly. She’d treat him like a sex toy to use when she pleases. Everyone wants to be hers, but no one is ready for her.

“Do you deserve to cum inside this perfect pussy?” she asks. She splays her lips and grinds upwards. You groan loudly. “You’re lucky if I even spit on you. What makes you think you can explode in mommy?”

“Please, I’ll do anything!” You tighten your core to hold it back. It’s useless. Your orgasm is coming anytime now, and Hyewon won’t let it happen. “Mommy, let me cum, mommy, please!”

She slaps you across the face. Why did the sting turn you on? You’d argue her words sting more. “You made me look like a cheap slut out there!” Hyewon shouts. “I gave you a chance and you ruined it, you little shit. So now you have to earn your fucking worth!”

Her riding becomes intense by the minute. She was angry earlier, and now she’s furious. You’re her canvas for a fuming painting. But in her eyes, you’re not a masterpiece. She’ll do away with you to the point of destruction. You’re very near to crumbling.

“I’ll do anything, please!”

You’re desperate. Your stomach’s starting to ache from the violence. You can’t quite feel your legs. All you feel is an impending heat that squeezes your insides. Your hips jerk needily and tears fall from your face. This is the first time you’ve felt this humiliated and aroused. Something about Hyewon makes the two emotions merge and leaves you wanting more.

Hyewon’s close to cumming, too. She’s shaking as her chaotic bounces are sloppier than before. “Say it, say you’re my little boy toy! Say you’re a slut for mommy!”

You’re a quivering body beneath the celebrity. You’re letting her use your cock and choke you and slap you, all without repercussions. There’s only one kind of man that would let someone do that to them. You can’t believe you’ve become one.

“Yes, yes, mommy owns my cock!” you scream, nodding over and over. “I’m her toy and she can do w-whatever she wants to me, I won’t mind!”

Her juices roll down your cock and wet your pubic area. She’s spiraling out of control. The only thing she can control is you, making you say the most humiliating things. Her wild eyes lock onto yours, and through them you could finally see some backstory: Kang Hyewon was born into wealth and control, and she’ll die with them, too. She’ll always fight to have them when they’re taken away from her. She isn’t afraid to cross limits.

“Yes, yes, yes! More!”

“I only want mommy’s pussy even if I don’t deserve it! I only do what she says, I’ll give up everything to be mommy’s plaything, please!”

When she cums, she looks frenzied, shaking all over the place and spasming around you. Her cries of pleasure become erratic. They almost sound not human. A human would not dare do what she does to you. She fucks you like an animal, frightens you like a supernatural phenomenon, and moves like the waves of the sea.

Kang Hyewon is out of this world. You’re an unnamed rock floating in the galaxy she navigates.

You bust just the second she removes herself from you. Abashing strings of sticky whiteness land all over yourself. They’re paired with needy groans that you can’t stop even if you wanted to.

Hyewon observes your ejaculation unamusedly. She takes a step backward when a jet of cum sprays in her direction. Look down at yourself—look down at your lap and the table blotted with your orgasm—and think of how dirty you are. You’re so dirty and pitiable that you came all over yourself, like you just masturbated in front of her. That’s why she doesn’t want to touch you.

“Y-you didn’t let me cum inside,” you say disappointedly. You did everything, said everything, and risked everything for nothing. An orgasm isn’t worth it when it isn’t done inside Hyewon.

“Like I said,” Hyewon replies, apathetic, “you don’t deserve it.”

Stare at her. It’s through staring at her with surprise that you realize you’re dirty on the inside, too. Hyewon can live her life secludedly and fade from the industry. She can leave this country, reinvent herself, marry somewhere, and you’d still be thinking about her. You’d always think of this night that left her appearance and yourself ruined.

That’s her charm. She’s permanently going to be in your mind—you’ll always picture her wet cunt, her alluring breasts, her beautiful face. You’ll strive for her again and again while she doesn't even care if you live or die.

Women like her… why do they have to be who you want?

“You have no future in this industry,” she continues.

She pulls her jeans up her legs and slips the button through the hole. Oh, you really will remember this night. You see you and Hyewon in the little things. She searches through the closet for a spare shirt. Watch her slim fingers that previously wrapped like ribbons around your throat now wrap around a hanger. She slips her arms through the tweed coat and seals it around the front.

“But your drawings aren’t… horrible,” she says. That’s the best compliment you can get from her. You know not to expect more. She shrugs as she closes the buttons together. “Maybe you’ll end up as a painter.”

A painter? You’re a fashion designer, not Van Gogh. Dresses and pants are your forte. You can’t switch to a whole new job when sewing is what you know.

Your heart sinks. You really broke the first step to a career you worked your whole life for. It’s just not your path to take anymore.

Hyewon looks around for something to write with. She settles for the eye pencil lying on a table. She forces you to open your palm and writes something on it. She closes your fingers above it.

“There you go. Consider this a farewell gift.”

She came into your life fast and she exits it just as fast. You can’t help but feel a strange sense of yearning. After all she’s done, you don’t want her to go. Why do you despise her departure when you prayed for it earlier?

Who would take you now?

You sigh. Peek at your hand curiously. In tidy handwriting, Hyewon’s message says:

KIM MINJU - CURATOR

XXX - XXX - 2001

807 notes · View notes

melancholicmelanin · 1 month ago

Text

Compress/Repress | Chapter 2: Sister, Sister

Pairing: art donaldson x black!oc x patrick zweig, tashi duncan x black!oc (platonic)

Summary: As the summer of 06' winds down, Maya is anxiously prepping for a secret adventure: flying to New York to watch her half-sister Tashi compete at the Junior US Open. The only problem? She’s doing it behind her grandparents’ backs.

Word Count: 5k

Warning(s): minor challengers spoilers (if any?), mild cursing, a non american writing americans, self edited and no beta.

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BEL-AIR, CALIFORNIA – August 30, 2006

“Look, you’ve already got the plane tickets, right? And you’ve figured out how to get to LAX. You’re halfway there!” Tashi exclaimed. Her tone was light-hearted, like the gravity of the situation was no big deal, as if sneaking across the country wasn’t an act that could land Winston Pratt in the hospital.

It had been a year since they’d made their first connection—one impulsive friend request that had led to a secret sisterhood neither of them had anticipated. An outsider looking in would deduce them as a close-knit pair of sisters. Heck, maybe long-time best friends even. Now, they spoke almost every day—through texts, phone calls and sometimes in person, always careful to keep their connection hidden from their respective families.

Maya let out a low, breathy laugh, though it sounded more like a sigh. Like she was failing at convincing Tashi to change her mind and ditch the plan altogether. Her heart raced as she listened to Tashi’s voice echo through the receiver. Maya’s heart raced as she took in her sister’s words, a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling beneath her tummy.

“I know, I know.” Maya said as she paced between the four pastel walls of her room, her Paul Frank slippers gliding against the plush white rug.

“I can’t stop thinking about the worst-case scenario. Like what if I get human trafficked at the airport and the kidnappers want ransom. They’d freak!” She exclaimed, dramatically tossing her arms in the air.

“Oh my god, M!” Tashi blurted out, sounding both exasperated and amused at her sister’s active imagination. When her guard was down, Maya Pratt-Duncan’s true form always showed, she was an anxious nervous reck at the end of the day.

Maya shut her eyes and clutched her phone out of embarrassment as she heard Tashi's befuddled voice coming through on the other end. Despite being miles apart, she could almost see the jokes forming in Tashi’s mind.

“You watch too many movies,” Tashi quipped, trying to ease Maya's worries.

“They’re not going to find out,” She explained further, firm and unbothered, the usual confidence Maya admired in her spilling into every word. “You’ve got everything under control. This is our moment. And I want you there when I win.”

Maya made her way towards her bed, her suitcase laid bare on top as she prepared for tomorrow's flight. She carefully checked and rechecked all her belongings, her nerves still prickling despite Tashi's reassurance.

The thought of seeing her half-sister for the first time in action—on the court, in her element—made her heart flutter. But the idea of lying to her grandparents, Tabitha and Winston, weighed on her heavily. They had raised her, protected her, and shielded her from so much of the world. And now, here she was, planning to deceive them.

Maya's voice was soft and hushed, a small smile playing at the edge of her lips as she spoke. "I know you're going to win," she said, her words filled with admiration and confidence. "But...I've never done anything like this before, you know."

Tashi's laughter came through the other end of the phone, light and teasing. "Oh, come on, Maya. You're going to be just fine."

Maya couldn't help but bite her lip, a habit her grandmother couldn’t stand. "It's one thing meeting up at South Coast Plaza, but flying all the way to New York? That's a whole new level."

"Hey, trust me," Tashi reassured her. "You've got this."

“And besides, it's not like I've been completely innocent this whole time.” Tashi leaned against the kitchen counter, her fingers fiddling with the telephone cord as she recounted one of their rebellious antics. “Remember that college party we went to? My dad definitely doesn't know about that!" Maya’s laughter echoed throughout her room as she reminisced about ditching the party in exchange for the local 7 Eleven at 2AM. Till this day she couldn't believe they had gotten away with it, but then again, Tabitha was under the impression that she was at UCLA college scouting.

A warm, genuine smile crept onto Maya's face as she listened to Tashi speak, feeling a sense of comfort and ease wash over her. Tashi had always been one to remain unfazed by anything--whether it be societal rules or the constant pressure of her successful tennis career. It was a trait that Maya both admired and secretly envied, wishing she could exude the same level of nonchalance in her own life.

“I just don’t want to mess this up,” Maya admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, her words carrying a hint of vulnerability and uncertainty.

“You won’t,” Tashi reassured her, her tone softening. “Look, you’ve covered your tracks. You told your grandparents you’re staying with that friend of yours, right? The one with the gap in her teeth?”

Maya nodded, despite Tashi not being present to see her affirmation.

“Yeah, I told them I’m going to Reneé’s for the weekend,” She confirmed, biting her lip. “I mean, they’re really good friends with her family, but I still feel guilty.”

"Maya, listen to me. You have nothing to worry about. You're not doing anything wrong," Tashi insisted, her voice filled with conviction and confidence. “You’re just… bending the rules a little. It’s not like we’re committing a crime,” Tashi said, her voice filled with the kind of certainty Maya wished she could muster herself.

Maya paused, her mind swirling with Tashi's words. At the end of the day, she knew she had to do this. Her entire life had been spent following the strict rules and expectations set by her grandparents. They lived in a world of high society and legacy, where image was everything. But Tashi's world was different. Spending time with her free-spirited sister had taught Maya to break out of her shell and live in the moment. She longed to let go of Tabitha's expectations and just be herself. This trip was for her, and it would be the last time her grandmother's disapproval stood in the way of her desires. As she gazed at the open window ahead of her, she could feel a sense of freedom and adventure calling to her, beckoning her to embrace this new chapter in her life.

“Okay,” Maya said, taking a deep breath. “I’m doing it.”

"Hell yeah, you are!" Tashi's voice echoed through the phone, filled with pride and determination. Maya could practically picture her sister fist-pumping into the air. "Plane tickets aren't cheap, babe. But trust me, M. You're going to love New York City. It's vibrant, pulsing with energy." Tashi's words sparked a feeling of anticipation in Maya's chest. "And just wait till you see me on that court at the Open—I'm going to dominate."

"Now get some sleep and prepare for the most unforgettable weekend of your life," Tashi exclaimed with a wide grin.

They exchanged goodbyes, and after ending the call, Maya stared at her phone, still buzzing from the energetic conversation. She walked over to her window, gazing out at the dazzling skyline of Los Angeles as it shimmered under the night sky. The city lights twinkled like stars as a plane sawed the sky, beckoning her to join in on the fun. Her reflection in the glass appeared small and hesitant. Could she really go through with this? She had never been one to break rules or rebel – every decision she had ever made was with her grandparents' blessings. But this... this felt like stepping into a whole new world. A world where she could let loose and be free, even if just for a few days.

It’s just one weekend, she told herself. Just a couple of days. I can do this.

The Next Day

Now, most people would think the hard part was packing, right? How in the world do you fit a week's worth of clothes into a carry-on suitcase for a weekend trip? Well, lucky for Maya, that kind of job needed experience, and she’d been practicing for years. She had honed the art of over-preparing for every kind of situation—always with the perfect mix of practical essentials and stylish options, who cares if it ends up with you lugging around two suitcases in the middle of LAX. But packing was the easy part; it was everything that came after that was trickier.

The hard part was actually figuring out how to get out of the house without waking any suspicions. Maya knew her grandparents’ routine like the back of her hand; it helped that it hadn’t changed in years. Tabitha woke up every morning at 6:30 A.M. on the dot for her morning jog with "the girls"—her circle of wealthy friends who gossip as much as they power walk. Winston would follow shortly after, making his way down to the breakfast table with the morning newspaper already tucked under his arm. Ettie, the housekeeper, would be brewing a pot of Italian coffee for him. The whole ritual was so ingrained in the fabric of their household that Maya could practically set her watch by it.

Her grandmother always had a way of figuring out when Maya was up to something, so timing was crucial. If she was going to slip out unnoticed, she’d have to be long gone before Tabitha finished her jog. She calculated that the best window of opportunity was during those precious few minutes when Winston would be alone in the kitchen, sipping his coffee and absorbed in the day’s headlines. She’d leave a meticulously written note on the entryway table, some excuse about the early bird catching the worm and hope that would be enough to buy her a few extra hours.

Her heart racing, Maya reached the top of the grand staircase and paused. The entranceway below seemed impossibly vast; the polished marble floor gleaming under the faint light of dawn that streamed in through the stained-glass windows. A family portrait, prominently displayed by the foyer, seemed to gaze down at her—a beautiful oil painting of her grandparents, herself, and her late mother. Her mother’s soft eyes seemed to follow her every move as she cautiously descended the stairs, almost as if silently questioning her decision—Are you sure about this?

Maya tiptoed down the staircase, gripping the banister as if it might help her tread more lightly. The large grandfather clock in the hallway ticked steadily, the only sound breaking the quiet of the early morning. Her pulse quickened with every step, the echo of her shoes on the marble floor sounding far too loud in the stillness. She couldn’t risk alerting Ettie, who was always the first to rise before her grandparents. If Ettie caught her, there would be questions, and then she’d have to explain why she was up so early, where she was going, and why she had two packed suitcases for a sleepover with a family friend.

Her suitcase’s wheels glided silently over the marble floor as she made her way to the front door, keeping her movements slow and deliberate. She caught a glimpse of the kitchen down the hallway—Winston was already there, sitting at the breakfast table, absorbed in his newspaper. Her note, propped up against the sugar bowl, looked small and insignificant, and for a fleeting moment, Maya wondered if she should just go in and tell him the truth. But she quickly brushed that thought aside. There was no way they’d ever let her go if they knew where she was really heading.

Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle on the front door and slipped outside, closing it softly behind her.

A sharp gust of cool air struck Maya's face as soon as she stepped outside her front door, sending a shiver down her spine. The crispness of the early morning air seemed to whisper warnings in her ears, urging her to turn back while she still could. But Maya pushed the thoughts away with determination. She had made up her mind, and she wasn't going to let any doubts stop her.

In the pale light of dawn, Maya spotted Reneé's car sitting at the curb, its headlights cutting through the dimness like beacons. Reneé stood next to the driver's side door, wrapped in a thick jacket, her bonnet still on her head and rubbing her sleepy eyes. As soon as she saw Maya approaching, she perked up slightly, though her expression remained a mix of curiosity and concern.

Maya had always known she could count on Reneé, her best friend since childhood. They met in the most ridiculously “private school” way possible: at their elite academy’s spring fair. It was 1995, and six-year-old Maya was twirling around in a frilly lavender dress, sparkly shoes, and butterfly clips in her hair like a mini-Mariah Carey. Meanwhile, Reneé—awkward, with wild curls and a shiny new camcorder her parents bought to shut her up—was filming a “serious” documentary titled “Life Sucks When You’re Six".

The collision was inevitable. Reneé backed right into Maya, sending both of them sprawling. But instead of tears, Maya jumped up, adjusted her dress, and grinned. “Hey, can I be in your movie?” she asked, with all the confidence of a little girl who had just discovered Clueless. Reneé, who was usually more comfortable behind the camera than in front of people, couldn’t help but smile. From that moment on, they were inseparable—like two halves of a Spice Girls cassette tape.

Growing up in the same exclusive Los Angeles neighborhood, they were an unlikely pair, more like Cher Horowitz and Daria Morgendorffer at group sleepovers than your typical best friends. Maya was the girly girl: always perfectly put together, with glittery lip gloss and an impressive collection of Lisa Frank stationery. Reneé, on the other hand, had a style best described as “indie film director in training”—baggy overalls, thrifted T-shirts, and always a journal in hand to jot down her latest “brilliant” ideas. While Maya attended etiquette and ballet classes, Reneé was busy trying to figure out how to direct the next Godzilla movie.

Despite their differences, they shared everything: secrets, dreams, and even some epic middle school crushes. In Maya’s perfectly pink bedroom—walls covered in a fancy wallpaper imported from France and posters of NSYNC and fashion magazine cutouts neatly pinned on a cork board—they would lie on the floor and talk about how one day they’d move to New York City, where Maya would become the next It Girl and Reneé would direct films about “the real meaning of life” (whatever that meant at age twelve). In Reneé’s room, which was more of a creative chaos zone, they would brainstorm ideas for homemade movies, often starring Maya as a glamorous protagonist and Reneé providing the scene of what they thought a woman in her 20s would find themselves in

Their bond was unbreakable, forged through years of navigating the ups and downs of adolescence in a world where everyone seemed to have at least three vacation homes. They laughed at dumb celebrity gossip from TRL, whispered about grand plans that sounded straight out of Lizzie McGuire, and found ways to dodge the relentless expectations placed upon them by their parents. With Reneé by her side, Maya didn’t have to worry about being perfect; she could just be herself—even if “herself” meant spending a Friday night reenacting scenes from Titanic while Reneé filmed it as "performance art."

Even in the early morning light, Reneé’s voice was dripping with suspicion. "I can't believe you're actually up this early," she grumbled, rubbing her eyes and leaning against the car door. "This better be worth dragging me out of bed before sunrise. Did you finally get tired of the whole 'good girl' act and decide to run off with some older guy?"

Maya tossed her suitcase into the backseat, the car grumbling to life as she tried to sound casual. "What? No," she said, though her voice came out a little too defensive. "It’s just a quick trip. I’ll be back by Monday." But she couldn’t ignore the flutter in her chest at the thought of how close she was to getting caught.

Reneé raised an eyebrow, her eyes narrowing like a gossip columnist sniffing out a juicy scandal. "Right. 'Quick trip' is exactly what I’d say if I were meeting some mysterious silver fox." Her tone was teasing, but there was an unmistakable glint of curiosity in her eyes.

Maya forced out a laugh, shaking her head as she slid into the passenger seat. "Please. If I were running away to meet some older guy, I’d at least wait until I was done with high school. And I’d have a way better cover story."

Reneé leaned over the steering wheel, still eyeing Maya like she was trying to solve a mystery. "Uh-huh. But I’ve known you long enough to tell when something’s up, and you’re not exactly packing like someone who's just 'going to visit a friend.' Spill it, Maya. What’s really going on? Did you get seduced by some rich guy who swept you off your feet at one of those boring charity events? Because honestly, that sounds kind of romantic. Also, kind of reckless, but still romantic."

Maya fumbled with the seatbelt, her pulse quickening. She couldn’t exactly tell Reneé that she was sneaking away to New York to meet the half-sister she’d only found out about a year ago. That kind of revelation was way too fragile, too precious to expose to anyone else’s opinions—not even Reneé’s. "I’m fine," she said, a little too quickly. "I just… needed to get out of here for a few days before the semester starts. You know, clear my head or whatever."

Reneé rolled her eyes but started the car, steering them down the empty streets. "Okay, sure. But if I find out you ran off with some guy who’s old enough to have his own yacht, I’ll say I told you so."

The car cruised through the dimly lit streets; the city still wrapped in the quiet of early morning. Reneé reached over and switched on the radio, landing on a station playing an old Britney Spears song. "Oh my God, remember when we did that dance routine to this?" she exclaimed, a grin spreading across her face. "Come on, Maya, don’t leave me hanging. Sing it like you mean it!"

Maya’s laughter bubbled up despite the tension she was carrying, and she joined in. As they belted out the chorus together, it was easy to forget, just for a moment, where she was headed and the secrets she was keeping. For those few minutes, it felt like they were back in middle school again, planning sleepovers and giggling about silly crushes. But as the song faded, reality crept back in, and Maya’s thoughts returned to the trip ahead.

The car rumbled to a stop at the departure terminal, and Maya took a deep breath, bracing herself for the whirlwind of the airport. The early morning light was just beginning to stretch across the sky, casting a hazy glow over the glass facade. Despite the hour, LAX was already alive with travellers dragging suitcases, taxi drivers haggling for fares, and the occasional lost soul wandering around with a coffee in hand.

Maya climbed out of the car, her steps slower than usual as she retrieved her suitcase from the trunk. Reneé stretched her arms over her head and let out a long yawn. "Alright, runaway princess," she said, still eyeing Maya like she was waiting for a confession. "Go have your mysterious rendezvous. But I swear, if you come back wearing a diamond bracelet, I’m going to need the whole story."

"Will do," Maya said, forcing a smile. But her chest felt tight. She wanted to tell Reneé the truth—about her real reason for the trip, about Tashi—but the words just wouldn’t come.

Reneé pulled her in for a quick hug. "Whatever it is you're doing, just be careful, okay? I’m all for spontaneous adventures, but try not to come back married to a guy who quotes The Great Gatsby unironically."

"I promise," Maya said, laughing nervously. "No secret weddings."

Reneé grinned as she climbed back into the car. "Good. See you when you get back, okay? And text me if you need a rescue."

Maya gave her a final wave as Reneé’s car rolled away, the taillights fading into the flow of early morning traffic. For a moment, she stood at the curb, feeling strangely exposed against the backdrop of the sprawling airport. She adjusted the strap of her bag and took a deep breath. She was really doing this.

The automatic doors slid open with a faint hiss, and Maya stepped inside, letting the chaos of the airport wash over her. There was a comforting anonymity here—a sense that she was just another traveller with somewhere to be, just another face in the crowd. She weaved her way through the bustling terminal, her suitcase bumping along behind her as she headed for the self-check-in kiosks.

As she tapped at the screen, printing her boarding pass, Maya’s thoughts wandered back to Reneé’s teasing. It would’ve been easier to lie and say she was sneaking off to meet some rich older guy. At least then, Reneé would have had something fun to speculate about. Instead, Maya was about to board a plane to meet a half-sister she hadn’t even known existed until a year ago, and not even her best friend knew the real story.

With her boarding pass in hand, she made her way toward the security line, her pulse quickening. She was about to cross an invisible line—leaving behind everything she’d known to find answers she wasn’t sure she was ready for. But there was no turning back now.

Maya found a seat by the window at the gate and pulled out her phone, scrolling through her messages. There was a new one from Tashi, sent just a few minutes ago.

Tashi: Just got to the courts. Can’t wait for you to get here! It’s going to be amazing; I promise.

Maya smiled, a mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling inside her. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to finally meet Tashi face-to-face, to see the sister she’d only known through late-night phone calls and Facebook photos. It felt surreal, like stepping into a story that wasn’t entirely her own.

As her flight was called, Maya stood and gathered her things, ready to step into the unknown. Whatever lay ahead, at least it was her secret to keep, for now.

NEW ROCHELLE, NEW YORK - August 4th, 2019

The sun blazed relentlessly upon the crowd, its heat shimmering off the concrete in waves that distorted the air. Maya squinted behind her oversized sunglasses, their dark lenses doing little to shield her from the sun’s intensity. Her skin prickled from the overexposure of Vitamin D, making it difficult to focus on anything besides the sweltering discomfort that clung to her like a second skin. As she sat in the stands, the familiar scent of sunscreen and freshly cut grass filled her nostrils, triggering memories of summers long past—carefree days spent at her grandparents' estate in Bel-Air Crest, where her only concern was perfecting her bronzed tan.

The hum of the crowd rose and fell around her, but it felt distant, like background noise from an abandoned television. Maya’s gaze drifted across the humble country club, taking in the swirl of colors from spectators’ sun hats and vibrant outfits, and the flashes of bright white tennis gear as players gathered to bear witness to what they suspected to be the match of a century. She was scanning the rows of seats absentmindedly when a tall, slender figure caught her attention. The person was descending the steps slowly, almost as if they were reluctant to be here at all.

As the figure came closer, the cascade of mid-length blonde hair, the effortless grace, and the striking features became unmistakable. Even from a distance, Maya could tell it was Tashi. Her sister’s presence filled her with a complicated rush of emotions—part nostalgia, part unease. They locked eyes just as Tashi reached her row. Time seemed to slow, and an unspoken tension hung between them, as heavy as the humid air. Despite the match unfolding on the court before them, Maya couldn’t tear her gaze away. She watched as Tashi took her seat just a few feet away, their proximity at once too close and yet, not close enough.

'Get a grip Maya, you knew she would be here.'

Maya’s fingers clenched tightly around the edge of her seat, her knuckles turning a ghostly shade of her usual caramel complexion as the internal struggle roiled within her. Her eyes darted anxiously to the tennis court, where the looming presence of the upcoming match filled her with a sense of dread. The players’ shadows stretched long in the late afternoon sun, mirroring the tension and anticipation coursing through Maya’s body. It was as if the scene was mocking her—a snapshot of normalcy while her mind was anything but calm. The roar of the crowd spiked in excitement as the players began their warm-ups, the rhythmic thud of tennis balls echoing like a ticking clock. Maya shifted in her seat, trying to shake off the prickly sensation that crept up her spine.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Tashi’s gaze turn toward her. Tashi—the sister who had once known her better than anyone else in the world, who could finish her sentences, who could always sense what she was thinking. Now, it felt like they were two strangers who had to pretend they hadn’t once shared everything. Maya’s breath hitched slightly as she felt Tashi’s eyes on her, the weight of that familiar gaze bringing a sudden rush of memories she had buried beneath layers of silence and time.

Tashi's features, once so easy to read, seemed guarded now. Her cool expression betrayed nothing, but Maya knew her sister too well to be fooled. The slight tension in her jaw, the faint crease on her forehead—it was all there, hiding beneath the calm façade. A year ago, they would have hugged, laughed, shared inside jokes to ease the tension. Now, they were separated by more than just a few feet; a chasm of unspoken words and unresolved issues lay between them.

Tashi's gaze landed on Maya, her once-closest confidante, now a stranger sitting just a few feet away. It unnerved her, how different Maya seemed, even in small ways—the slight slump in her shoulders, the tightness in her jaw. There was something brittle about her that hadn’t been there before, a fragility hiding behind the composed exterior. Maya's forced smile, offered to a couple of teenage girls who recognized her from a fashion magazine, barely reached her eyes. It was the kind of smile people practiced in the mirror, perfected for the sake of appearances.

As Tashi’s gaze drifted back to the court, she felt a pang of something close to regret. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She had imagined a different future, one where they could lean on each other no matter what happened. But life had taken a different course, and the choices they’d made—some willingly, others out of desperation—had driven a wedge between them that seemed impossible to remove.

The match hadn’t even started, but Maya could already feel the tension tightening around her like a coiled spring, ready to snap at the slightest touch. She stole a glance at Tashi, who was staring ahead, her jaw clenched as though determined not to show any sign of weakness. There had always been that fierce pride about Tashi, a need to present a strong front no matter how turbulent things were beneath the surface. It was one of the things Maya had admired about her growing up, but now it felt like a wall keeping her out.

"Nice to see you made it," Tashi said finally, her voice low and edged with irony, as though she wasn’t entirely sure whether she meant it or not.

Maya's lips parted, but for a moment, no words came. When she finally spoke, her voice was measured, carefully controlled. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world."

Tashi’s mouth curved into a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Right," she said, turning her attention back to the players who were now preparing for the first serve. "Because we’ve always been so good at being there for each other."

The words stung, though Maya wasn’t entirely sure whether Tashi intended them to. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and pressed her lips together to keep the sharp retort from escaping. Instead, she chose to stay silent, gripping the arms of her chair until she could feel the bite of the metal against her palms.

The crowd erupted in applause as the first serve cut through the air, the players diving into the game with all the precision and grace expected at this level of competition. But for Maya, the real match was happening here, in the silent exchanges and unsaid words between her and Tashi. Every ball that flew across the net seemed to carry the weight of their unresolved history, every cheer from the crowd a reminder of how long they had been pretending that everything was fine.

The tension hung between them like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. It wasn’t just a tennis match to Maya and Tashi—it was a collision of everything unresolved, a confrontation without words. The years of sisterhood, of shared secrets and broken promises, all seemed to blur together, fusing the past and present into one inescapable truth: no matter how far they drifted, they could never really escape each other.

And as the players battled it out on the court below, Maya couldn’t help but feel as if she and Tashi were the real competitors, locked in a game where neither of them knew the rules anymore.

#challengers x reader #challengers fanfic #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson imagine #patrick zweig imagine #patrick zweig x you #art donaldson x you #challengers fanfiction #mike faist x reader #josh o connor x reader #tashi duncan #melanie's fic: compress/repress #Spotify

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marilynthornhilllover · 1 month ago

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Hi! Can I have a request on "mommy!marilyn x Reader"? like when Marilyn teaches reader how to drive but R messed up and Marilyn get angry and decided to spank r at the back at the car trunk and f***k r until r know what she did was wrong? (NFSW, spanking, and strap-on)

Kinktober fanfic #1

Was it casual then?

Mommy Marilyn T. X Fem!Reader

Warning: NSFW smut, praise kink, degradation kink, mommy kink, spanking, use of strap, fingering, jealousy,cliffhanger, moms friend, etc.

The bell rang announcing the end of another boring school day. As students rushed out of their class rooms and into the hallway to exit the building you could feel the relief of not having to worry about anymore crazy assignments and the urge towards wanting to punch people’s children because they weren’t pulling their weight in group projects creeping in. You walked quickly towards your locker to empty your book bag, you had plans for tonight and you didn’t want anything holding you back.

“ hey girl, you’re coming to the new club downtown tonight right?” You may have turned around too quickly because you swore you just gave yourself a huge whiplash, but no way on gods green earth was the ‘Rebecca o’olva’ talking to you right now. She was like the Beyoncé of the school and in her world you had to look a certain way in order for her to even acknowledge your entire existence. But anyways there she stood looking gorgeous as always, short dark blue denim shirt with a cute star hemming style, a fuzzy cropped zipper sweater and of course her minions standing behind her like she was their military patrol officer.

Becca was cool. you weren’t allowed to call her that aloud, her group would probably punch the shit out of you if you tried to get too friendly. She wasn’t mean though, just a ‘shy trying to maintain good grades because I come from a uptight family full of assholes that are rich self maker’s who would burn the world to crisps if I didn’t become a millionaire too kinda girl’.Though sometimes she didn’t mind lavishing herself in the wealth and acting like a spoiled brat.

“ oh— uh—I hi?” You said awkwardly, her crystal blue eyes tore you apart as she stood there grinning at you. Her friends giggled but immediately stopped when she turned to flash them look with a not so kind face. Rebecca took a small step closer to you and smirked.

“ you must be y/n. You know me already but anyways there’s a new club that’s opening tonight and everyone’s going” yeah no shit cause your inviting them, but by all needs carry on. “ and I wanted to know if you’re interested in tagging along because I’m one of the host” she finally said with a victory smile as if she won the lottery, well she kinda already did. Well… her family did.

You stood there as stiff as stage four rigga morris. You blinked a few times maybe trying to analyze maybe if you had zoned out or maybe was daydreaming and needed to come back to reality but she was still there with that goddamn hideous creepy Halloween coded smile on her face. And her friends sharp eyes weren’t helping your nerves to cool down . And then you decided to do something even more stupid and life threatening.

“ sorry but I don’t drink alcohol and I already had plans for the weekend with my friends so with all due respect Beyoncé I think I’ll p—“ before you could finish your sentence her four friends corner you and push you back hard against the cold metal of your locker. You winced and tried to seem as tough as possible by standing back up but a Barbie looking one with wet lashes and overlapping Matted lipstick pulled you closer to her by your collar.

“ listen here doormat, she’s kind but we’re not so you better take up the offer” she whispered eerily.

“ and we better see you there” another muttered. You involuntarily nodded and in a sharp instant she released you. Rebecca was still fucking smiling at you but then they all took off laughing. These crazy fucking bitches. You proceeded to quickly empty your bag, deciding to just leave the entire bag in the damn locker since you didn’t have any homework to worry about and school doesn’t reopen til Tuesday so you had time to come back for something just in case . Walking briskly out of the empty halls you waved goodbye to the elderly janitor Mrs. Hanson on your way out.

You sighed as you felt the cool air pressed across your skin and the warm afternoon sun as it escalated down your face and body areas. All the busses were long gone, with the last one pulling out of the drive and taking off into the distance. You sighed again but this time one of stress and agony. You looked around the parking lot and suddenly your entire body freezes and your eyes go wide. Standing not far out was your mom’s best friend. Not the weird old ugly ones that asked you weird questions, hot and steamy mommy coded Marilyn thornhill.

Marilyn always thought you were a rude rebellious teenager when you were younger but it was just you trying to hide your feelings from her. And soon eventually she caught on. There were times in the past when she would tease you, get under your skin. Push you past your comfort zone in more ways imaginable. And you loved it, you neeeded it, you craved it like a drug. You two had a little fling, she was your first and then she just left town and you never say her in the light of day again. So seeing her here now was like seeing a past lover, like the crazy teary scenes in the movies.

Except your heart was going 100mph and your private region suddenly grew a heart beat making you swallow thickly. And you could feel the saliva go all the way down there and soon enough you were becoming insatiably wet.

“ come here baby” you heard her say, leaning against the hood of her car with her legs crossed she took an inhale of her cigarette before it got lost under her boot on the ground. You felt a familiar shiver that only she made you feel. You knew how these interactions ended but your feet betrayed you and you started taking slow strides towards her. And the closer you got the more the temptation of what could happen, what has happened seemed soul demanding.

When walked closer to her you made sure to maintain a perfect gap space in case you needed to run away from her. Far away from her destruction that you so desperately craved. But sensing your hesitation Marilyn smirked and chuckled softly under her breath and in one swift motion captured her lips with yours by using your tie to pull you closer towards her. Your lips fought against each other in a slow passionate fight at first, just feeling each other closer then Marilyn became hungry. She bit down on your lips which caused you to moan as she used the opportunity to push her tongue pass your lips gate.

She wrapped the tie around her hand more tightly pulling you onto her even more. Being so flush against her again did things to you. You felt hot and desperate. Her body heat, her perfume a mix of lavender and something dark and citrus like. Something dangerous, like her. Your nipples slowly awakened themselves to the new found intimacy and a desire that raged war in you. Marilyn’s tongue fought against yours in a war of dominance and obviously she won leading you to just submitting to her, as your chest flattened and your body went limp against hers.

Marilyn smiled against your lips before she pulled away, wiping away any salvia trails that may have connected both your lips like a bridge. She looked down at you and you squirmed under her gaze. She chuckled and gave you a quick peck on your forehead.

“ well hello to you too, my love” she whispered against your lips before they connected with yours again and you had to push her off you before her thoughts got the better of her and she couldn’t control herself.

“ stop it Mari, there’s still staff members here.” You told her and she straightened up, fixing her posture. She looked at you with those ‘ I don’t give two fucks eyes I literally fucked you in your mom’s bedroom when she was cooking’ eyes but she stopped because she respected your boundaries and your body.

“ nice car” you finally said after fixing your clothes and putting a few inches between the both of you so pass byers wouldn’t have rumors to spread.

“ thanks it’s s yours” she said looking at the car then back at you, you laughed for a moment shaking your head at her joke before you realized that she wasn’t joking. Your eyes widen and you felt your feet betray you once more because all of a sudden you start jumping like a like kid who just got told that they were officially going to see Santa. You wrapped your arms around her neck and began kissing her all over her face, the older woman chuckled at your childish behavior and wrapped her arms around your waist pulling your closer.

“ but I can’t even drive yet” she must have saw the disappointment in your eyes because she squeezed your sides tighter forcing you to look at her.

“ I’ll teach you darling, maybe we can even test it out to see if it’s fuckable in” she said whispering the last part, you rolled your eyes and swatted her chest.

“ your hopeless you know that” she chuckled and lead you to the car, not just any car by the way a BMW M8 competition. You loved having a hot milf mommy that’s smoking rich.

——————————-

“ fucking damn it y/n what’s so hard in just putting your goddamn foot on the pedal” Marilyn was starting to piss you off, she had taken you out on some abandoned racing track in the middle of nowhere to practice you on driving and yelled at you every fucking time you messed up. You rolled your eyes and sighed. You looked over at her who was staring daggers at you as her breathing elaborated more and more each time she inhaled. It was like she was the big bad wolf in the three little pigs story.

“ are you fucking stupid or deaf? Put your fucking foot on the pedal!” She shouted more sternly this time, her tone taking no softness. She was angry but so the fuck were you.

“ you know what Marilyn fuck you , how about you take your car and shove it up your ass if you’d like” you opened the door and got out slamming the door after. You heard her grunt as she got out too but you didn’t pay much attention to her as you made your way around the car. You didn’t even know where you were going, there’s no where to go. You were in the middle of no where and she was your only was back to civilization. Before you could process it all you felt a firm grip in your hair as your body got slammed onto the cold surface of the car trunk.

You groaned in slight pain as you turned your head to the side to stare at the culprit. Marilyn’s grip remained in your hair and her other non occupied hand bunched up your platted skirt around your hips and in one swift motion pulled down your panties til they fell around your ankles. You couldn’t lie, something about being in the middle of nowhere all alone with Marilyn made your insides churn and your pussy pulse. Flash backs of you riding her cock at your friends party in her bedroom closet to sucking her off at a birthday party, to her pounding into your pussy out in a dressing room and yes of course the first time she made you cum on your moms bed when she was cooking.

All the memories came back. And this would fit perfectly to the list. You were already completely soaking, probably dripping just for her.

“ you fucking whore, all mommy wanted to do was surprise her baby and teach her how to drive but now mommy got put someone in their place” she whispered against the skin of your neck, her hot breath making you tremble under her hold. She yanked your hair making you prop yourself up onto your elbow. Her hand rested onto your lower back carefully arching your back for you and you complied. Marilyn stared at your ass cheeks for a moment, your round curvy ass bent back, all for her. She couldn’t help but bring her hand to the flesh fumbling with it before a hard swat came down causing you to cry out at the unexpectedness.

She felt you shiver against her and did it again. You whimpered and tried to lay down to give yourself some comfort but she held you up. Tears pricked at your eyes and the wind blowing in your face made it worst.

“ god i missed you baby” she muttered under her breath mostly to herself but you heard and it only turned you on more. She spanked your ass again and the pain slowly started mixing with the pleasure allowing a moan to coarse through your throat and out of your mouth. Marilyn smirked to herself and did it again this time for harshly, making the sore and redden flesh jiggle. You let out a more choked moan this time and she chuckled darkly.

“ yeah moan just like that for mommy” she let lose of your hair and grabbed the underneath of your neck forcing your head backwards to look at her. “ I wanna hear you fucking scream while I milk that pussy like the olden days” she used her forearm to push you against the hood of the car.

“ suck” she spat roughly as she shoved two fingers into your mouth, you gave her digits a few sucks seductively taking your time to draw out slow swirls across her knuckles before she pulled them from your mouth. She thrusted three digits into you in one swift motion causing your eyes to roll back completely. A grutal moan escaped from your mouth and it was a good thing that you both were in a secluded place or maybe the both of you would have been on the news…..

Marilyn’s pace was detrimental. She kept whispering sweet nothings into your ear as her fingers rutted deep inside of you with no mercy. Your nails scratched the hood of the car as a familiar pressure from deep within your stomach started to come back.

“ there she is, i can feel you clenching baby girl, go ahead and let go for mommy” she whispered against your ear, she placed a soft lingering kiss behind your earlobe, your back arched when you felt her cross curl her fingers deep within you as she increased her pace. It was only a matter of time before you came on her fingers with a loud cry. Marilyn smirked to herself and slid her fingers out of you. She gently licked the juices off her fingers while she watched you squirm before the wave of your orgasm. Your breathing was shallow and rigid as you tried to keep it under control and brace yourself for whatever was to come next.

You could hear Marilyn unbuttoning her pants, looking over your shoulder you see her slide her pants down to her ankles before her gaze met yours. What really caught your eye’s attention what the huge purple strap that was attached to her waist ready to absolutely destroy you to pieces. You bit your bottom lip as you looked at the strap and then back up at her, she had the most devilish grin imaginable and you knew her intentions. Marilyn wasted no time as she spread your legs apart, placing one of them up on the car’s bumper giving herself a better access to your cunt. You heard her spit on the strap before quickly dragging her hand up and down her length.

She wasted no time and inserted her cock into you. Your head fell against the car and your back arched. Marilyn held the flesh under your thigh as her hips bottomed out inside you. You felt so full of her. Her cock was pressing against the spongy spot inside you and it felt so fucking good. You missed her and her dick so bad you wished she had a real one. Marilyn withdrew her hips slowly as she watched in awe as your juices coated her length. She grabbed a fist full of your hair pulling you back against her chest as she slowly began thrusting.

“ oh god please—“ your sentence was cut of by a soft moan that was quickly followed by a whimper as Marilyn increased her pace.

“ you stubborn girl, can’t follow simple driving instructions but you sure can take dick” she spat with a small chuckle causing you to whine. Her praises and dirty talk will soon have you spurting to the edge and you didn’t wanna be seen as a slut. But you wouldn’t just be anyone’s slut. You’ll be her slut. And right now, with her cock buried deep within you and her tight grip in your hair you didn’t mind at all. Marilyn released her hold on your hair and used her hands to toy with your nipples. You cursed out a shallow moan and cried. Marilyn laughed mockingly and twisted your nipples between her fingers.

She looked down at where your cunt and her cock was connected and bit her hips before she too released a soft moan of her own.

“ fucking pussy so good” she whispered under her breath. She watched as your pussy pulsed and creamed on her length, sucking in a breath she grabbed your hair again.

“ you gonna fucking cum again? Mhmh? Fucking whore mommy treats this pussy too nice huh?” She tutted as her hips found a new speed now pounding your guts fast and deep, she curved her hips in an angle that made her tip bend against that sweet point deep within you. Watching as your eyes roll back and your legs tremble she spanks your ass cheek and runs her hand down your spine before slipping it around infront to play with your small bud.

“ fuck I—OH GOD MARILYN PLEASE—“ you croaked out, panting you reached your hand around and gently placed it on her abdomen in attempt to slow her hips but she was unstoppable. Your body fell limp against the car as you laid there and took her dick with grace.

“ fuck yes, take it baby, fucking take my cock, your gonna look at me and cum on my dick, fucking look at me” she said firmly going even deeper as her hips rocked faster within you. The sound of her cock moving in and out of you and your moans, the way she was speaking to you and her hands roaming your body and playing with you clit at some point it all became too much and you obeyed her. Turning your head to the side your gaze met hers in a pleading attempt to which it fell on deaf ears. Her pace was brutal and her thrusts were snapping sharp.

“Mary—I can’t—fuck I” she knew what you wanted to say, and she felt it. She leaned down and connected her lips with yours as you neared your edge. In one swift motion she deepened the arch in your back which allowed her strap to be driven even deeper into your cunt and that was it. Your body spammed as your cunt clenched down hard on her cock. You felt your juices release on her cock as you shuttered. You were completely out of breath and tired. But god did you wanna go again. You forgot just how good Marilyn has made you fell, can make you feel. And man did you love it. You turned around and sat up properly on the cars trunk and looked at her.

Her eyebrows quirked and she smirked at you. She kissed you softly but soon it transformed into something rough and passionate. She gently pushed you down back against the trunk and opened your legs to where disaster just occurred, to the mess she just caused you to make.

“ I wanna taste you now…..”

#fypシ゚viral #fanfic #marilynthornhilllover fanfics #g!p marilyn thornhill #marilyn thornhill fanfic #marilyn thornhill x reader #marilyn thornhill #smut fanfics #wlw smut #spooky #halloween #larissa weems smut fanfic #lady dimitrescuxreader #gwendoline christie #wednesday netflix

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gallusrostromegalus · 1 year ago

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Any weird Soul Society specific superstions for care and maintenance of one's Zanpaktou?

There's a joke rumor that goes around Shinigami Academy that if you've tried everything else and your zanpaktou STILL isn't talking to you, you can always try getting into mortal danger so it has to come out and save your ass to save your own. The faculty loudly maintains that is false and even considering it is a great way to fuck up your spiritual connection with it. The problem is that unfortunately, the rumor is true- even the most stubborn zanpaktou tend to have at least one survival instinct and will force their wielders to fight their way out of a life-or-death situation. But the teachers are right that it WILL permanently fuck up your relationship with a sword if you intentionally harm yourself for it's attention, and it's important to note that just because your zanpaktou manifested, that doesn't mean either of you are strong or skilled enough to get out of your dipshit situation you caused.

A more commonly advised bonding practice is to practice putting trust in your sword and learning about its preferences by picking one day a month where it's in charge and you do everything it says. EVERYTHING. If your sword tells you to walk off a cliff, start walking - the key here is to teach the sword spirit that not only do you trust it, it's also responsible for you and can't go around giving you bad advice for shits and giggles. Most sword spirits never ask their wielders to do something dangerous, but they do ask to go see a weird movie or for their person to eat an unusual food so they can taste it by proxy, and thus the wielder gets used to trusting them and thinking of the spirit as a person unto themselves.

Doing proper maintenance on your weapon is an important bonding activity and the first time a zanpaktou has to be taken to a smithy to be properly re-sharpened is often a nerve-wracking experience for both sword and shinigami, a bit like a child's first doctor's appointment.

A practice that is not *recommended* but most people do anyway and that works is sharing gossip. Sword spirits can see each other when they choose to manifest, and have friendships and rivalries and THAT BITCH FROM THAUMATURGY CLASS YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE - and likewise, since sword spirits spend so much time resting they want to hear all the updates on the wielder's friends and family and rivals and OH MY GOD YOU NEED TO HEAR WHAT THAT MORON WHO TEACHES O-CHEM DID NOW-

Sometimes, a sword will bond with someone very deeply, very fast. There's a superstition that shinigami who bond with and master their zanpaktou quickly are either destined for greatness or to burn out and drop out of the court guard just as fast. Neither is true, actually. They're not prone to grand destiny or burnout any more than people who take a normal or long time to bond with their zanpaktou. They are more likely to get thrown out of the guard for really weird crimes though.

On the other end of the spectrum, if it takes a long time to bond with your zanpaktou, there might be something wrong with you. The rumor isn't *totally* unfounded- the main thing that keeps people from bonding with others is, you know, unresolved emotional issues, the same thing that prevents less stabby relationships. But it's just as likely that it's the sword is the one that's snake fuckingly crazy.

#aeiwam #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfiction #zanpaktou

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tobbotobbs · 2 years ago

Text

Ghost and Soap with their little chef!husband. They tried to hide him from their work because he could get into trouble but how much can they do when he is such a lovely person that really wanted to surprise his husbands and their friends after an exhausting mission with a nice meal he cooked?

The Night Family Met Family

It was dark outside, the task force 141 had just came back from another mission. One that wasn't as exhausting as all the other missions they had been on in the last few months. Kyle was flying the chopper while Price was dpzing a little bit on the flight and John and Simon were sitting close to eachother while looking at Johnny's phone. They had been texting their sweet husband of 2 years that they were on their way back to the base right now, reassuring the worrying man that none of them, none of the other 141 boys had any bad injuries. Simon knew you it did little to calm your worries about their being, but he still told Johnny to tell you that they are alright. You always cared so much about them and the whole team, it was very sweet but also stressing you out sometimes. So telling you that they were fine except to a few cuts to calm your nerves should do till you could see them in person and check on them for your own reassurance. It wasn't long until the conversation on the phone turned from worried and thoughtful to cheesy and needy. Soap had started to text you how much you were missed in between his and Simon's arms and that it would be a hard night again, sleeping without their favourite person there next to them. Meanwhile you answered him with a lovely ,,But it's not long till we see us again my love!" and a lot of heart emojis. This made Ghost smile as he read the few words. It really wasn't long till he could hold you in his arms again. Only a few days before they all had a little time off of duty.

His thoughts were cut off by Gaz suddenly talking over the radio with them. ,,Guys we are back home! Tighten your seat belts please so we ain't having a repeat of last time I fell out of this thing", his voice was calm and a little teasing at the end, recounting on the time Ghost flew the helicopter and send Gaz flying out of it, for the second time. Price woke up from his little dozing off like he had a second sense for this, like a dad suddenly waking up when someone tries to get near the remote control while he "watched" something on tv. They all put on the seat belts and waited for the man to carefully land on the big H on the ground for helicopter. After finally getting out of the aircraft, they all made their way over to the barracks. All ready to go change and shower and then do something calmly for the rest of their free time before falling asleep. They all went into the showers nearly simultaneously and also went out again, drying themselves off and putting on the civilian clothes which mostly concluded a simple shirt and joggers or a too big hoodie from Ghost, in Johnny's case. They all were roo tired to notice that they weren't actually alone in the base. And that was something you found pretty amusing. Military men who are always on guard for anything but they simply didn't notice the lights being on in the kitchen while passing it in the hallway or the random car next to their cars. A car that belonged to none of them, not even Laswell.

They all made their way to the common room that was directly connected to the open kitchen when they suddenly noticed the strange atmosphere. ,,Wait...did one of you guys left the kitcheb lights on before we went showering?", their captain asked them curiously. ,,No sir, we all went right away through the halls, didn't even stop to take a piss", Soap answered laughing lightly. ,,Then who the hell is still up and in the god damn kitchen- and why does it smell like this person is cooking food?", Price asked, now a little annoyed that a rookie or someone was still up at this time, which it was 3 am in the morning at this point. They all shrugged at their captain and together they walked into the room. Kyle and Johnny were the first to stand in the room and look at the stranger standing in their kitchen, cooking some delicious smelling food while swinging to some scottish music none of them except for Soap understood. As Ghost entered he stopped right away. That wasn't just any music playing and any random person standing there and cooking, it was you. His and Johnny's sweet husband. You were cooking while playing soaps stupid scottish music playlist on spotify. Hearing them all enter you turned around and smiled softly at them. ,,Welcome back! I hope you don't mind, I cooked you guys something to eat! I just thought that maybe, after this long flight you lot would be a little hungry...?", you trailed of a little at the end. Getting nervous and scared at the way they were all just practically staring into your soul.

,,Who the hell are you?!", Prices voice was raised and he was ready to throw some punches if it was needed. ,,Wowowow! Uh I thought you knew- ah well it doesn't matter nlw does it? Uhm well let me introduce myself, since it seems my Husbands forgot to do so a long time ago", you carried on, seemingly a little displeased that neither Simon nor Johnny had ever talked about you to their friends. ,,I'm sorry- Husbands?", Kyle now asked completely confused. ,,Yes. Husbands. I am Y/n Riley MacTavish", you smiled, now softly again, at the two confused men in front of you. Relieved, John breathed out and turned around to his soldiers. ,,Now you muppets wanna tell me why this isn't in your files? Or didn't got mentioned anywhere. Ever. Hm?", like to scolded boys they seemed to try find the right words at Prices question. ,,Well you see, we requested Laswell to not tell anyone? Because we don't want him to get in danger so...for his own safety you could say?", Johnny found his voice first and tried to explain. Which seemed to be enough for Price. He nodded understanding and turned around again, smiling. ,,Well then let me thank you for cooking for us Sweetie. I'm sorry we didn't knoe who you were beforehand. It seemed those two muppets here care a lot about you lad", he talked in his typical fatherly voice and looked at what you had cooked for them. The whole room got more relaxed, now that Price approved of you and started putting some of the food onto a plate for himself to eat.

They all followed and started sitting and talking like the family they were. Price and Gaz were asking you a few questions about your relationship, how you guys met and since when those two idiots were married let alone in a relationship. You told them that you guys had met in scotland years ago, nearly more than a decade, because Johnny was introducing Simon to his family. Luckily enough you've been the nice cook in the diner they were all going to celebrate Johnny's and Simon's relationship. After accidentally bringing Simon the wrong food, you had scolded the waitress and went out to bring him his actual food himself. With that you had catched the brits eyes and also the scots, who wasn't ashamed to ask you out to a date with them right after that nice and very delightful dinner they had. Of course Johnny had seen the way Simon had looked at you. With longing and want. The same way he had looked at you. It was a little dance between you three for month. Always telling them that you liked them a lot, but never giving them a kiss. Not even on the cheek. You were making them go crazy with this innocent game you were playing. They knew that you dod this just to be 100% sure about everything but they couldn't deny the feeling of being played with because to be honest you had them at your mercy the second you laughed that beautiful loud laugh of yours on your second date because Simon had lost his ice cream while eating it and it fell onto his shirt. And just as they thought you were rejecting them for all, after 11 month of denying you finally kissed them both on your nearly one year anniversary. It shook them both. The two lf them were just laying on Soaps couch in his apartment in scotland when you came back from work, exhausted but happy nonetheless. Walking over to them and just giving them both a soft quick kiss on the lips before turning around and going to take a shower. And now, 10 years later, and 2 of them happily married, here you were. Finally meeting Simon's family and Johnny's second family.

Listening to this Price and Kyle smiled brightly. They were happy their friends had a family to come home to. And also such a lovely good cook as well. They spend the night talking tilm they all got tired, leaving them all going to bed. Johnny was yawning while walking hand in hand with you to Simon's and his room, Simon walking right behind them. When they got there it was quickly gotten rid of the clothes with exception for the shorts and they fell into the actual bigger bed that they had asked Price and Laswell to let them have so they could cuddle and sleep together in it. You were laying there in the middle of the bed, head on Johnny's bare chest and hugging him from the side while Simon was hugging you from behind, head in the back of your neck steadily breathing your scent in and relaxing more and more. You guys were exchanging a few love confessions till you one after one fell asleep in each others embrace. Happy to be together in each other's embrace, to be with your husbands and to be finally able to show each other love again, even if just for a short time.

Hey guys, it's been awhile! So sorry for that, have a lot going on right now sooo yeah. Here a little apology hehe

Damn I've got so much daddy issues in me I would give anything for Price to treat me like one of his idiot sons being in trouble tbh, also soapghost is just the sweetest what the hell????

Anyway, see you all next time, don't forget to reblog and have a good day <3

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makoodles · 1 year ago

Note

I honestly pity Na'vi men, trying to court human reader. Especially babyboy Neteyam. Just imagine it:

He has bring her a huuuuge still bleeding piece of meat, trying to goat about his new hunt and put it on a table... Only for her to scream at him in horror that the blood ruins the table of 19 century (God knows how it ended up in Pandora, but let's pretend.) In the end she cries so hard, because he destroyed a piece of historical art, all while Neteyam is holding into his dear life, stifle inside the urgent to say "isn't it just a table?" (he's not ready to meet Eywa yet).

Neteyam has heard from some scientists that human female have period and how impulsive and emotional unstable they can become. So, he watches reader, wanting to know if she has those symptoms (definitely not because he's been dreaming of having a big family with her, definitely not!). Since she can be sometime rude to him, he expects her to turn into a monster for these days, only to find out how clingy and putty she becomes. Boy is gonna make up for all those times she got on his nerves.

I really love idea with lovingNeteyam and demon!reader, like she commands his every breath, but he doesn't complain, even though it's strange for him to obey to such tiny creature. I imagine him saying "human female is gentle, fragile helpless soul, from who you can't fucking escape".

Bonus: I'm dying to see Lo'ak reaction, when he finds out about human periods. He will definitely try to warn his brother, whispering in his ear "I would not trust creature who bleeds five days and doesn't die"

clueless alien courting human and getting so damn confused by their everyday behaviours will always be my fave damn trope lmaoooo it's just so damn cute !!

i can imagine neteyam being told that periods can cause mood swings and emotional shifts, and at some point reader gets irritated about something and poor innocent neteyam asks "are you on your period?"

little does he know reader is now gonna hit the damn roof lmaoooo

#asks #avatar headcanons #neteyam

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v-era-18 · 9 months ago

Text

HoneyBee

Chapter Eight : Needing a Hero

“A family friend told me something once; No sacrifice, No Victory.” - (Y/n) (L/n) StoryTeller / Hero

Breathing is a good thing to remember during times like this. When the panic starts to settle in along with your current reality and expectations. Your nerves pump you with adrenaline, triggering your fight or flight responses.

And sometimes your first instinct is to react with emotion instead.

(Y/n) let out a guttural scream before jumping up catching Sam and Mikeala’s attention. The two teens were by her side in two seconds flat Lennox not too far behind. A whine of whirr caught their attention to the side. A large figure of black and yellow moved slowly from the rubble, weirs and sparks emitted from stubs where his legs were supposed to be. Looking around there was no sight of his other ped. The reality of war was sinking in fast.

“Bumblebee!” The girl pushed Sam away and scampered over to the scout. She horrifically watches him drag himself along the ground in pain. His two legs were gone, although she woke up besides one missing limb it didn’t make her feel any less positive about the situation. “Oh my god! What can I do? Tell me what to do! I can help you-I’ll help you-“

Sam started to help clearing a path allowing the scout to move though, “We got you Bee, you just gotta get up. Bumblebee? Get up!”

“Ratchet!” (Y/n) screamed for help.

What Bumblebee needed was immediate medical attention, and it was unfortunate she didn’t know how else to help in this situation. You think in all those books she’s read there were instructions for this. To help when they were injured and there's no help from their fellow colleagues.

The girl went back in front of the cybertronian, her hands shaking and eyes burning. She didn't know what to do. No one around them knew what to do!

“You gotta get up,” Sam encouraged, “You’re okay. You’re okay. Come on!”

As if things couldn't get worse the retracting sounds of a tank in the distance was hollow in her head. For the first time she got to witness a tank firing off in the middle of the street in real life. She had to give men in the service their props, because compared to them she didn't have any balls big enough for this kind of thing.

She already had huge respect for the men and women in camo. But for now there won’t be a day where she’ll shy away for saying thank you for your service.

“Decepticons can have tanks?” (Y/n) whispered solemnly, “These mother fuckers are cheating!”

Sam could only stare in horror at the sight before him.

Jazz and Ratchet could be seen in the distance making their way towards them. It should’ve been a slight reassurance that help was on the way but the decepticon tank looked like it was ready to end them in one millisecond.

“Come on! We need to move!”

Mikaela stared at Bumblebee for a long second. This whole time the only thing she could contribute was support for (Y/n) and Sam. No where was it required for her to be the hero-the aid in this mission. But watching the bot drag himself on the ground with the Afro haired girl before him painicing did something to kick her into overdrive.

The girl looked around before breaking out into a sprint down the street. A truck came into view giving the girl a bright idea for the scout for aid. Although she didn't know much about aliens or their species, she did know alot about vehicles.

Bumblebee moved himself further next to (Y/n), he could see the sheer despair on her face and it made him sad knowing he wasn't able to provide comfort to her at this very moment. The crease in her brows didn't suit her, along with the long blood trail that outlined the side of her face.

The stress of war didn’t suit her at all.

To top it off, he couldn’t stop his spark from beating so loudly. As a scout he never had doubt in his abilities. He was able to get in and out of situations faster than many of his comrades and competitors. It was the reason why Optimus trusted him and the reason why he was so respected amongst others. In times like this age is just a number-a consideration. Your skills and mindset is what separates you from others. In the end you have to be at your best in order to survive.

Bumblebee didn’t have to look behind him to see the damage done. He could feel it. And boy did it fucking hurt.

But he couldn’t think about himself right now. He needed to think about the lives before him. The lives of families, friends, and strangers with dreams that are just a fragment of the imagination.

This was a prosperous planet like Cybertron once was. And he be damned if this one falls as well.

He crawled closer to (Y/n), her form shook with each passing second as she watched him. She never moved away though. The girl before him stood her ground occasionally looking for any signs of Ratchet to come to his aid.

Unfortunately for his sweetspark they didn’t have time.

“I’m not … I’m not leaving you.” (Y/n) stated inching forward, “Ratchet is on his way just give him a second-“

She was cut off with the black and yellow boy presenting the Cube before her. Her breathing hitched in her throat already knowing what it meant. (Y/n) grabbed it from him, the weight of it heavy. So many lives rested in the very object she held. And it made her stomach queasy.

He let out a pained slow whirr at her expression. Hoping the look in his optics would give some form of reassurance that everything was going to be alright.

Sam watched the two, his breathing uneven but concentrated on the task at hand. He knew that help was going to be a long time away with so much going on. Apart from the civilians and the Air Force they were on their own. Seeing his friend hold the cube sent his mind in a tizzy.

How were they supposed to cube to safety with a big tank in the way? And how could (Y/n) get by successfully with a Decepticon blowing her into oblivion?

Jazz ,Ironhide and Ratchet finally arrived for backup. The Afro haired girl backed up behind Bumblebee as she watched the three autobots practically disassemble the decepticon in the middle of the street. Sawed off arms, blasted in torso, and the head eventually being flown off.

A smile slowly graced her features before being completely wiped clean. She heard the plan before she saw him. The low runner of death making her hairs stand on end and spine throb. She could feel it in person. The one thing humans fear the very most ever in life. Death.

“Megatron!”

Sam zeroed in on (Y/n) as her face became slack. Her eyes never removed from the sight of the personification of death before her. Nothing else mattered to her anymore, she wanted to run-scream and hide.

For once she doesn't want to be the hero. No, she wanted to be rescued.

“(Y/n)!” Sam grabbed a hold on the girl's shoulders trying to tune out the yelling and screaming of civilians around them. “I need you to stay with me okay? You got to breathe! Don’t let them win!”

Optimus appeared before them down the street, his stance firm, “It’s Megatron! Retreat! Move! Fall Back!” The Prime tried to hold off the decepticon Leader only to be knocked down quickly with a blast. There were simply too many casualties on the streets to go full on without someone possibly dying or gearing hurt.

The soldiers filed back towards them just as a ‘Mikes Towers’ truck stopped in the middle. Mikeala hopped out of the vehicle, her face stern, “Sam, (Y/n)! Help me with this!”

The three teens worked quickly with Bumblebee. Making sure the wires were wrapped around him tightly in order to haul him onto the truck. (Y/n) at first wanted to question if it would be painful for him to be tied up so roughly. Unfortunately they were all out of options and comfort was the last thing they needed to worry about at the moment.

“What’s going on?” Lennox asked.

A fellow soldier looked through the binoculars, frustration written all over his face, “Sir! That tank thing’s getting back up.”

“Oh, these things just don’t die.” A helicopter’s propellers caught his attention, causing him to turn around seeing a large decepticon pierced on a large building. Dread and exhaustion filled Lennox’s body at the sight.

“Oh we are so dead.”

“Epps, get those Black Hawks here!” Lennox ordered. He looked to his right, spotting a tall skyscraper just east of where they were. “That building….”

He worked quickly getting over to (Y/n). Out of all the people here he didn’t want to ask this of this girl. It was simply because she was a female either-it was because she had so much going for her and he would hate it if she had died. She had a grandmother to go home to, just like how he had a wife and daughter. Fighting for your life doesn’t make these decisions any easier.

“Sam! (Y/n)! Where's the cube?”

(Y/n) lifted the cube off of the back of the truck for the soldier to see.

“Okay,” Lennox grabbed (Y/n)’s arm guiding her away from the cybertronian she was aiding, “Allright, I can't leave my guys back there, so here, take this flare-”

The girl shook her head, “What-?”

“Okay, there's a tall, white building with statues on top. Go to the roof. Set the flare.”

“No,” She uttered softly, “Get Sam to do it I cant-”

“Signal the chopper and set the flare-”

“No! Get someone else to do it! I can't-!”

Lennox grabbed the girl’s shirt roughly causing Sam to step forward to remove his hands by force only Mikela stopped him.

“You know more about these beings than any of my men or any of us here on this planet! The moment you opened your mouth earlier I knew we had a future leader in that room. Wasted potential that system lets go to waste to fucking often.” The girl still continued to shake her head with tears in her eyes, fear running up and down her spine like a virus.

Lennox continued, “You're more than a soldier right now. You're our last hope. All Right? I need you to take this Cube. Get it into military hands while we hold them off,or a lot of people are going to die.” He looked over to Bumblebee who was staring at her the whole time feeling a sense of dread wash over himself before looking back at (Y/n). “including them.”

(Y/n) held the cube tightly, her lips wobbling as she looked back over towards the building. Leonox gave her a second to think before turning his head back over to the other two teens. “You two need to go-”

“We're not leaving,” Mikeala said stiffly.

The soldier grew frustrated. These teens don't know when to listen. “You need to go now!”

“No, we're not leaving okay,” Sam agreed, “Not until we get Bumblebee out of here!”

“Army Black Hawk requesting immediate evac for civilian girl with precious cargo. She is headed to the rooftop marked by the flare,” Epps spoke into the walkie talkie quickly before ducking for cover once more.

(Y/n) started to be approached by the other autobots as she continued to stare at the building ahead. She was trying to slow her breathing, her heart was screaming in her ears and her lungs couldn't get enough air. She's never seen so much destruction before her eyes, and she was just given a task to run right through it to deliver their life or death.

“(Y/n),” Ironhide stepped forward, “We will protect you.”

‘Protect me?’

The promise seemed to be heavy on her heart. Here she was worrying about how qualified she was to do this and there were soldiers and autobots alike willing to sacrifice their lives in order for her to safely get the cube to high ground.

But what happens after that? The sky can only hold the cube for so long before another decepticon finds it in their reach. Itr will be blown out of the sky and then the cube will be in their hands and terraform the planet.

But the fact of the matter is-did they have any more options?

“Lennox! Epps!” (Y/n) called after them, “Where are those planes?”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, watching the girl before him that he'd known for practically his whole life before it actually began. The good the bad she was always by his side, and for the current moment he couldn't be next to her, the time she truly needed her the most. He stepped towards her, catching her eyes as they downcasted towards the cube she ranted about so many times. He should've listened all those years ago; but who could blame him, he thought they were just stories. Fiction a dream that she wished to hear about. And they were now the story book, not knowing the ending.

Two best friends, not knowing if they were going to live or die. One a hero, one a survivor. Or did it really have to be that way?

“Listen I know this isn't really the time to tell you this but—”

“Don't confess to me right now—”

“I promise you, I wouldn't think about doing that at this very moment because I'm four years too late okay?” The boy huffed before pulling her into a strong embrace, “Come home to me alive okay? You're my best friend practically attached at the hip. And if you die-” She felt him shake slightly with an exhale before he breathed in again, “A large part of me will die as well.”

They both released each other, Sam sent the girl an encouraging smile before petting her head softly. Something he hasn't done since the tenth grade. Childhood euphoria washed over them seeming to come full circle. He took in her expression one more time before slowly releasing her, not knowing if it was going to be for the last time.

“Now go fucking kill them.”

(Y/n) let off a cruel smile, “Already ahead of you Lord Witwicky.”

~ ✯ ~

(Y/n) (L/n) from today on has promised that if she survives this, she would document every fragment of her life from her on out. Because this shit could only be made up in the crevices of someone's twisted mindframe.

Ironhide and Ratchet provided protection while the girl made her way down the street to the building. Rubble and black deprise was blown in different directions and made it hard to remain consistent within her sprints on the battlefield.

The girl couldn't believe she was doing this. Her legs burned from the lack of exercise she had throughout her lifetime not to mention the asthma that was catching up to her. It was so hard to breathe each time she pumped her legs to move faster towards the building in front of her.

With a shout she quickly avoided a decepticons ped that landed near her, Ironhid had grabbed the Con blasting him towards another building causing civilians to break out into more screams of panic. It really was a shame they weren't able to evacuate the city in time for these large robots to run amok throughout the streets. She was more worried with the fact that there was a chance there were humans stepping on more than the gunfire.

She heard the sound of a plane and the shifting of metal behind her causing her legs to move faster than before. The hard thumps of ped steps in pursuit of her was what her ears focused on as she made through the waves of chaos around her. Never has she shoved so many people in her life. The cubed seemed to emit a thrumming sound around her arm and rib cage.

(Y/n) pumped her legs faster trying her best to ignore the commotion and panic surrounding her. She screamed as she was cornered In between a store with a deception closing in on her, she ducked her head letting out a yell as the blades missed her by a hair, most of the damage being done to the car and store Windows.

“Ironhide where—?!” The girl cut off seeing an all too familiar airplane diving right towards her letting out sounds that would awaken her in nightmares . Skidding to a stop the girl immediately turned around, the sifting of metal filling along with the crash and destruction of vehicles around her.

Ironhide and Ratchet were there immediately, the girl taking cover behind another vehicle and rubble trying to seem smaller than she was. Never had she’d seen Starscream so up close before other than the nightmares that plagued her, and to say the description of his chilling red optics weren’t ones to laugh at.

This was Megatron second in command. And he-he was flying away after taking a few hits. Although it was a bad time the girl did want to admit it was a bit disappointing from the cruel stories about the Decepticon second in command.

Ironhide looked over at the girl anxiously, noticing her panicked expression, “Hurry (Y/n)! Get to the building! There isn’t much time!”

Shaking and breathing labored the girl did as told. Her thighs burned along with her lungs, cheeks aflame from the heat. Not to mention the desperate sweat clutching every crevice of her being.

She wanted to go home. She didn’t want to be a hero anymore.

(Y/n) stumbled over another woman trying to run away, apologizing quickly before keeping her pace towards the building. She kept her eyes focused, there were only a few more streets down and then she’d he was home-.

“Give me that cube, girl!” Megatron growled fiercely from behind. The girl could practically hear the terrorist order in her very brain, so much that it almost compelled her to do as told.

Her heart thrummed louder in her chest as tears started to roll. The girl was so preoccupied with running away she didn’t notice the car speeding towards her. The girl hit the ground with a painful groan, watching the cube emit a blue glow all around along impacting the electronics around them.

‘Oh no.”

“You stupid bitch! Did you just hit my car?!”

(Y/n) sent the girl a heated glare simply throwing up the middle finger, before running back down the street in time to hear the civilians cries in the car. There was probably no doubt that the car had fully turned into a cybertronian by now.

‘Looks like you won't be having a car anymore,’ She thought snarky.

Finally the girl reached the building running through with a goofy smile on her face, “We can do this. We can do this! They’re not gonna get me! They’re not gonna get me-!”

A crash was heard behind her, cutting off her sentence of freedom , “I can smell you, girl!”

“Ew,” (Y/n) rounded the corner, her eyes placed on the stairs before starting to climb them, “ I do not want to know how that works.”

Upon reaching another level the girl continues up, screaming again as Megatron emerges from the floorboards behind her. The war terrorist was persistent and she would give him that.

She entered another room, a tired steadied sigh leaving her lips realizing that the staircase was still many more floors up.

‘Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he just killed me,’

~ ✯ ~

Mikeala let out a panicked breath pulling the tow truck into the alleyway. Sam was biting his nails anxiously looking back at Bumblebee who couldn’t stop moving his helm back and forth to see more of the fight. They were exhausted.

The girl placed her head on the steering wheel rethinking the past couple hours; her following after a girl she had a crush on for years, the giant robots showing themselves, sector seven arresting them, finding out that the world has been visited by aliens, and now the world was in the same girls hands that was reading in front of the class not even two days ago.

It wasn’t fair. Mikeala knew it wasn’t fair-none if it was. She’ll never get over the girl's face, her plump lips downturned and her eyes furrowed in anguish. She was facing a war terrorist alone-and the fucking three of her friends were fucking sitting here cowering in an alleyway. Frustrated, Banes got out of the car slamming their door back in the process. Sam followed suit, a worried expression on his face.

“Y-you okay-what-“

“We need a new plan, right now.” Banes hissed, “w-we can’t just sit here and do nothing! She’s out there alone-alone Sam! Did you not see her face? I’ve never seen her make that face-!”

The girl stopped a stray tear escaping before roughly wiping it away. She looked over locking eyes with optics that seemed to dim lightly. Something within her stomach started to churn at that expression; she had made it so many times before. But who was he making it for?

“Bumblebee?”The black and yellow boy whirred lightly, showing her that she indeed had his attention. “You want to save your Storyteller right? The same girl you laid in the grass with?”

The scouts expression turned serious, servos turning to guns immediately shocking Sam.

“Wait-are you two thinking what I think you're thinking?”

“Gonna try and stop us?”

“No…” Sam smiled wildly, a look that the girl wasn’t expecting at all, “I’m just making sure that we’re all equally as crazy here.”

The two teens got back in the car, Mikeala revving the engine before looking back at the scout.

“I drive! you shoot!”

~ ✯ ~

With a huff and breathless groan the girl finally made it to the top of the roof, push the cube of the ledge she quickly leapt off the ladder and onto the roof. Grabbing the cube once more she broke off into the sprint seeing the helicopters in view.

“Hey! Hey! I’m here!” She rounded another turn scraping the flare against the way to get their attention, “I’m over here! Please! I’m right here!”

The girl. Was finally surrounded by hope, the helicopter slowly arriving in front of her as she quickly made way towards the sight. A soldier came forward, reaching out quickly for the cube. Just as (Y/n) made way to hand it over in the corner of her eye she saw a sight that made her heart quake.

“Watch out!”

“Missile!”

It was too late the missile was deployed and hit to the side of the helicopter sending it spiraling down below.

“No!” (Y/n) cried, “No! No! No!”

She crawled along the ground , letting out a pained whimper not daring to look at the deep gash on her leg. She willed herself to be pulled up before breaking off into a run once more. A servo emerging from one of the vents caused the girl to scream, backing away, seeing another emerge just as quickly as the first.

Panicking the girl looked around for a hiding spot, nothing to distract the con while she could. Looking around she spotted a pillar on the very ledge of the building.

‘I have lost my damn mind’

She made quick to hoist her up the best she could before speaking her body as best as she could behind the pillar. She willed her whole being not to look down at the city streets below, hoping praying that by some grace of god an autobot would see her up and be ready to catch if she falls.

“Tell me, is it fear or courage that compels you, storyteller?” Megatron growled, “the stories about you were legend back on cybertron. To hear of a rumor speaking personally to an autobot light years away before your time and here you are, trembling like a mere morsel to be eaten alive.”

(Y/n) looked around for any type of escape only to find the honking of horns and rumbled streets down below answering back at her. “Oh my god. Please I don’t wanna die!”

“Give me the All Spark and you may live to be my pet.”

The last edge to the war terrorist tone sent the girl leaning backwards only to regret it a second later when the rubble was starting under her feet. A gulp was taken along with a tear falling down her cheek. She read a lot about heroes in her time of living-the good and the bad.

The knights riding in on horses, the morally corrupt, all the way to the ones selfishly acting for the greater good. And she was about to be the one that dies in the end. It was funny really, the story she told the class a few days ago, the tragedy. A knight and his lover. But in her case there was no lover, if she had one they would be laying at her feet before she would join them in perlies abyss.

This is what she asked for right? To face her fears? To help the autobot cause, to join the fight for her planet?

“We all have roles to play within our own worlds whether it’s fighting a war or simply telling stories.”

She might have been born to fight a war, but she was to tell stories. And another way to tell a story to leave one through actions and shere bravery.

(Y/n) looked back at the deception, a brave face being displayed in contrast to the snot and tears on her face, “I’m never giving you this All Spark! Tell Ultron I said hello!”

“Oh so unwise.” Megatron snarled.

The girl screamed as the mace came down upon her, seeing her off the roof and towards the streets below. Only the impact never happened, she was caught firmly a few seconds later in a gentle grasp incased by metal.

Looking up the girl let out a nervous laugh at the sight of Optimus. “About time Prime! I thought I was dead!”

“I got you, storyteller.” Optimus placed the girl on his shoulder plates before making way down the building, “Hold on to the cube!”

Before the two were almost down to the ground Megatron hurled himself on top of them, throwing Optimus off balance and onto the rubble below. (Y/n) shook on Optimus’ chest holding the cube tightly.

“(Y/N),” Optimus uttered softly gaining the girl's attention, she shot up showing that he had her attention. “You risked your life to protect the Cube. “

She chuckled softly, “A family friend told me something once; No sacrifice, No Victory.”

“If I cannot defeat Megatron, you must push the cube into my chest. I will sacrifice myself to destroy it. Get behind me.”

“Wait-,” the girl started getting down her mind working overtime, “that isn’t right! There’s another logical way to solve this instead of killing you!”

“As of right now we don’t have time to think of one,” Optimus sat up from the missed concrete and broken cars, “I will say it has been an honor meeting you Storyteller.”

Turning to the war terrorist Optimus stood proudly ready to engage, “It’s you and me Megatron”

“No, it’s just me Prime.” Megatron snarled, sword at the ready.

“At the end of this day, one shall stand, one shall fall.”

“You still fight for the weak! That is why you lose!” Megatron growled before throwing Optimus to the other side of the building.

(Y/n) took cover in the chaos watching the two leaders fight. One good, one evil- the earth hanging in the balance along with a human shuffling about with a weapon or a source of life to be given. Megatron threw the Prime once again, causing (Y/n) to shout as it was too close for comfort.

“No no no no-“ Optimus wasn’t doing so well in the fight, making (Y/n)s nerves on edge, they had to have help come in from somewhere. Just as the girl was losing hope reinforcements arrived with soldiers flooding in, shooting and firing at Megatron the best they could. Now with having the upperhand Optimus was able to gain advantage giving hit after hit trying to overwhelm the Decipticon Leader.

“Damn you! Wretched thing! It’s Mine! All Spark!” Megagtron turn towards her, her stance ridged against the car watching the fight closely. She gripped the cube in frustration trying to think of a quick solution.

“(Y/n)! Put the Cube in my chest! Now!” Optimus ordered.

Wait ...if Optimus can die from the cube in his chest surely-.

(Y/n) stood up her decision final before looking over at the terrorist who’s plagued her whole life the moment she was told the stories about him. The good all the way to his genius crimes. She knew from this point forward, she couldn’t allow him the luxury of hiring or causing fear no longer. Autobot of deception alike.

“You want this fucking cube! Take it!”

“No, (Y/n)!”

The girl held up the cube to the Deceptions chest watching it light aflame with vigor along with the cube disengaging before her very eyes. Megatron shook and groaned the once blue spark tuning red, eating itself from the inside out, causing him to convulse on the ground painfully. The leader turned his head, reaching out towards her one more time before his red eyes dimmed. Lifeless.

Optimus walked over, seeming to be in a mix of disbelief and despair as he looked at the dead cybertronian before him, “You left me no choice, brother.”

(Y/n) watched the other Autobots crowded around, all seeming to be accounted for, except one black and yellow mech that was always on the back of her mind. Was he safe? Has his condition worsened? What about Sam and Mikaela?

Optimus drew the girl from her thoughts as he kneeled before her, “(Y/n), I owe you my life. We are in your debt.”

The girl shook her head, “No thank you, for believing in me.”

A car rolling to a stop catches the girl's attention, along with the car doors swinging open crazily. It was only a moment before the girl was tackled to the ground by Sam, the boy was shaking his breaking laborer as he held the girl's face in his hands. A second passed the two childhood best friends looking at one another before (Y/n) broke out into a laugh tears falling down her face before enveloping the make in an embrace.

“Did I do good Lord Witwicky?”

“You did better than good, you were fricken’ amazing. A better hero than I could ever be.”

“Alright move over!” Mikeala pushes Sam away slightly before planting a soft kiss on the girl's cheek before enveloping her in a hug. “Don’t ever do some dumb shit like that for a while okay?”

“A while?” (Y/n) giggled, “You act like I’m gonna do it more often?”

Banes smirked, “Knowing your predicament I wouldn’t be surprised if this is going to be your whole life.”

A whirr and a shift on the truck drags the girls attention to a flash of black and yellow. Her eyes watered over letting tears fall as eyes meet optics. She shakily walked over to Bumblebee, scared that if she breathed too hard the illusion of seeing her new friend would disappear as fast as he appeared behind her at that food truck.

Jazz leaned down slightly nudging bumblebee’s shoulder, “You gonna say something good?”

Ironhide gave a disapproving look, “don’t encourage that at this very moment. The girl almost died.”

The second in command nearly shrugged, before both mechs chuckled seeing how Bumblebee's door wings moved slightly in embarrassment. The scout wouldn't lie if the girl had been on helm the whole battle. Wondering if she was okay, if she remembered how to breathe, if Optimus got her in time-there were too many factors to consider. But here the girl was before him, still alive. One thing about humans they were clearly fragile from what he knows, but Primus-never had he thought this was a pleasing sight to see. The girl's hair was a mess, tears streamed down her cheeks-she a mess. And that's what made her perfect.

“Y-you’re okay,” (Y/n) sniffled. She placed her cut up hand on the mechs arm a soft nervous laugh leaving her lips, “I was so worried,”

Bumblebee simply let out a whirr of a sigh, basking in the attention the girl was giving him. He leaned down slightly to get a better view of her, only to be caught off guard with her wrapping her arms around his helm, cheek to faceplate. The mech's body grew warm-very aware of the stares from his fellow comrades that would most definitely tease him about it later.

She let go, a wide true smile on her face, “Thank you for everything Bee. Once Ratchet gets you fixed up, let's read some more at home yeah?”

The mech's door wings shot up excitedly. Was she-was she asking to see him more often? She wanted to spend time with him-outside of the assignment given to him!

Optimus stepped forward drawing attention of the other participants present, “We have lost comrades, but have gained new ones. Thank you, all of you. You honor us with your bravery.”

“Permission to speak, sir?” Bumblebee switched between channels settling on the temporary voice ratchet gave him a few years ago in a scrap heap. It wasn't his true voice-but it was something.

“Permission granted, old friend.”

“You speak now?” Sam said ludicrously. Mikeala broke out into a laugh along with (Y/n) in response, The teen boy looked back and forth between them, “Are you seriously laughing-he's been using the radio!”

(Y/n) shoved Sam lightly, “I love him using the radio. It adds character.”

The scout perked up at that, his decision final. “I wish to stay with the girl and the boy.”

Upon hearing the scouts request Optimus looked down at Sam and (Y/n). He wasn't against the mech being with the two teens in fact he would like to encourage it. Bumblebee had to grow up at an early age, not being allowed the luxuries of having fun with others his age. Maybe this would be a great start for a new beginning for him. “If that is their choice.”

The two friends looked at one another, wide smiles upon their faces.

“Yes.”

“Of course.”

Bumblebee whirred happily with his charges' decisions. Mentally already preparing himself for the endless summer of fun they were going to have. First he was going to need his legs of course…

(Y/n) let out a yawn shocking Sam and Mikeala, “okay, this is all great but my battery is running low and i need three days worth of sleep for sure.”

Sam ran a hand down his face, “You couldn't just bask in the moment huh?”

“No. We all have our limits Samuel. We just saved the fucking world, I think we deserve some sleep.”

#bumblebee x black reader #bumblebee x reader #transformers bayverse #transformers bumblebee #sam witwicky #mikeala banes #transfromers #optimus prime #honeybee #Spotify

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sl-newsie · 5 months ago

Text

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 19: Prepare For Battle

Every day I am exposed to sin and misdeeds. Sometimes I wonder if the slate can be cleaned.

Lord your blessings are so blindly insulted, ignored by the naïve who assume freedom. Will the thickened plot improve, or are we all close to impending doom?

“Don’t go. You can’t go.”

“I need to, Finn.” My breathing jumps. “I’m sorry.”

“No!” The young Shelby refuses. “You’re not a spy. I’ll talk to Tommy-!”

“It doesn’t matter. He won’t trust me.”

We hear the door open and Arthur steps in, his face blank and cold. He slumps onto the couch and stares at the floor.

“Where were you, Arthur?”

My words do little to stir him. “Tried to hang myself. The rope snapped.”

Suicide. “God’s plan for you is not finished, Arthur Shelby.”

He grunts. Does that mean he agrees or is just in shock?

“Polly mentioned you were leaving?”

“Yes.”

“I first thought you were a spy,” Arthur begins and shifts in his seat. “But you ain’t. You’re too nice.”

“I thought the same way about Grace,” I mutter darkly under my breath. “Look how that ended.”

Polly walks in and sees I’m still packing. “There’s nothing we can do to convince you to stay?”

More tears pool in my eyes but I press on. “I can’t keep this up, Polly. Being pulled by both sides, being accused of being a spy.”

“We don’t think that. Tommy does.”

I open my mouth to respond but I’m interrupted when the door opens again. I already know it’s Thomas by his footsteps. Quickly I head down the hall to my room and shut the door. I have no want to speak with him now. When he gets to the living room his relatives begin arguing about his conviction of me.

“She knows things, Pol. How do we know she’s not a spy?”

“I wasn’t educated properly either!” Polly justifies. “You do not need a school to teach you, Tommy! How can you do that to her? After all the help she’s done?”

“She can’t go!” Finn whines.

“Where is she?” I hear Thomas ask gruffly.

“Shut up in her room. She doesn’t want to see you and I can't blame her.”

“I need to talk to her.”

No no no! If he comes in here my temper will snap and someone will get hurt. Or something gets broken.

Knock knock.

No. No!

Not a sound. I make no move to open the door- But he opens it anyway and walks right in. I can tell he slept with her. It’s all over his dumbass face. After all he accused me of, I'm appalled how he can even have the nerve to face me.

“You’re still here?”

Cigarette smoke hangs in a halo over his devilish face. Do I try reasoning or do I let my Irish side flare out?

“I’m here for everyone but you, Mr. Shelby,” I reply stiffly. “Unlike you, every other member of your family seems to appreciate my help and not accuse me of being a spy.”

He walks further into the room and sits down on my bed. “You can’t blame me, love. Times have been hard.”

Love. The pet name sends my blood boiling. “I can be harder. If my trust is so worthless now then it’s a miracle I’m still here.”

“You really are leaving?”

Why does he have to ask so casually? Would he even hate to see me go?

“Yes. I have resources elsewhere that can get me home.” I’ve been meaning to visit Uncle Colon anyway.

“At least come out and visit before you do,” Thomas asks. “They’ll miss you.”

They will. Not him. Why should I care? Jesus Thomas, what are you doing to me?

Without a word I stand up from the floor and defiantly walk past him into the hall, back to the living room. I will spend whatever hours I have left for their sake, not his. Finn looks up from his book and glares at Thomas.

“This is your fault.”

His older brother says nothing and looks over at Arthur, who’s still shaken up.

“So Polly told ya?” he grunts.

“Yep.” Thomas keeps his eyes away from Finn’s glare as he pours some tea. “You should have used a gun.”

My jaw drops. Is he serious?

“Are you laughing at me, Tom?” Arthur asks.

“Yeah. Just when things are starting to go right, Arthur, you do this.”

I can’t even stand to hear the rest. I grab my book and head for the kitchen, hearing bits and pieces about shareholders and more business talk. Whatever Thomas says must be good news to Arthur because I hear him chuckle.

“Our boys at the station tell me the copper’s headed out of town. We’re in the clear.”

No you’re not, Thomas. Far from it. If Grace is still around then no one can be trusted.

An hour goes by and the chatting dies down. Eventually Arthur walks in and when he sees me he gives a deep sigh.

“I know you’re one for all that religious stuff. Think God will forgive me?”

“For suicide, or the killings?” I drone.

“Fair point.” He walks over and picks out a bottle of whiskey. “When will you go?”

I take a deep breath and close my book. “Despite my deep disliking for Thomas right now, those plans have been postponed. You lot have enough of a mess to go over so I’ve taken it upon myself to help Polly keep house since Ada’s been away.”

He doesn’t smile or burst into happy chants. Arthur simply pours a small glass and slides it to me. “That’s very noble of you, Steenstra. I guess we’re both stuck somewhere we don’t wanna be.”

“I guess we are.”

For the rest of the night I stay secluded in my room. Arthur must have told Polly and Finn I’m staying because they both come to say goodnight instead of goodbye. Thomas must still be in the dark, either that or he doesn’t care that I’m staying.

Now it’s morning. Thank God he’s not here.

“Esme, why are men so stupid sometimes?” I wonder out loud as we fold laundry.

The new member of the Shelby family thinks for a moment. “They’re headstrong, which is why they need women like us to tame them.”

I rub my temples. “Yes. And what are we supposed to do when we’re too stubborn to put up with men?”

“Does this have to do with Thomas?”

This is why John was quick to love her so much. Esme is not stupid, far from it. She doesn’t beat around the bush and grabs the bull by the horns. Maybe she can join me and Ada’s new girl group.

“I know I should be happy for him. He’s my boss. His profit and good well-being affects my job. But then why does my chest still hurt when he mentions Grace?” I sigh deeply and lower my head to stare sadly at the floor. “I see it in his eyes, Esme. He loves her. Why am I so upset about something I should have no business in?”

The Gypsy woman sits next to me and hugs my shoulders. “Because you love him too. The way I see it is that you’re being the better woman and letting go of your feelings to give him happiness, and that is something I deeply admire about you.”

A loud snore comes from the living room and interrupts the touching moment. Arthur must have drank himself to sleep last night.

Thud!

Rushed footsteps echo down the hall and an out-of-breath Ada stands in the doorway, holding a sleeping Karl.

“Don’t leave!” She gasps.

Esme presses her lips together and hurries down the hall to John’s room. She also knows when to keep to herself.

“Ada, calm down. I’m not leaving.” I put a hand on her shoulder and usher her to sit down. “You came back?”

“I had to! I’m not going to let Thomas drive away any friend of mine!” She huffs and rocks Karl in her arms. “Yesterday Polly stopped by and said he yelled at you. That you were going back to America. Please don’t!”

“I’m not, I’m not,” I assure her. “There’s far too much chaos going on here for me to leave yet.”

Just then Thomas speeds past where Ada and I are sitting, ignoring us completely. The gangster walks over to Arthur and shakes him awake.

“Arthur, go home. Get bathed, check your kit, check your weapons.”

Arthur groans and rubs his eyes. “Why? What’s going on?”

“We’re doing it today.”

He finally sees us and gives a quick wave.

“Care to tell me what ‘it’ is?” I raise a brow.

“Details to follow.” He pats my shoulder and goes the same route Esme took.

“Where are you off to now?”

“Off to round up John. No doubt he’s getting familiar with Esme.”

Must be another thing John fell in love with. She’s just as horny as he is. So if the Blinders are carrying out the rumble with Kimber today, what are us girls supposed to do? I should ask Polly.

Setting the basket aside, I get up and pass through the wooden doors to the bullring.

Polly stands off to the side holding her cross. “Dear Lord, make this day pass well. Let none get hurt and make them that do not Shelbys. Watch John because he has so many depending on him. Watch Arthur because he’s as likely to hurt himself as anyone else. Watch Thomas. I know how he is, but he does what he does for us. I think. Amen.”

I’ve kept silent to give her privacy and I hear Thomas come up from behind. Polly sees both of us and tries to show a stern face.

“Used to do that everyday during the war. I’d hoped I’d done it for the last time.”

“Today will be the last time, Pol,” Thomas promises. “After today there will be no more need for prayers.”

The Romanian woman doesn’t say more as she passes past us back to the kitchen, only stopping to give my shoulder a squeeze. I’m glad I’m choosing to stay because if things go south today she’s going to need all the support she can get.

“You better mean that, Thomas,” I warn. “Polly can’t afford any more stress over what might happen to you and your brothers. And for the record, there is always a need for prayer.”

Thomas stays quiet and begins polishing his pistol. What is it with this family? The only time anyone talks is to reprimand or discuss murder!

I walk back into the living room to find Polly and Ada fussing over little Karl, but there’s a clouded look on Polly’s face.

“They took my children from me. And they never told me where they took them. And they did it because they could and I was weak.” She points a finger at Ada. “But they will never take your baby away from you. Do you know why? Because Tommy won’t let them. Because Tommy won’t let them walk all over us. He has brought strength and power to this family, because he knows you have to be as bad and powerful as them in order to survive.”

The Shelby sister looks between Polly and me with conflicted eyes. I understand why she’s torn. We both know Thomas’ intentions are for the good of the family but sometimes he can be too rash with his thinking.

“I’m telling you this because I want you to forgive him,” Polly says. “You too, Verena.”

“How can I? How can I when Freddie is rotting in jail because of him?”

“Yeah, Polly. Even if Thomas didn’t tattle about Freddie it’s this business with the guns that led Campbell here to begin with. Why should I forget that he threw away my integrity for a lying barmaid?”

Polly stands up and holds her arms out to gather us into a huddle. “There’s something about today you need to know. Both of you girls need to know. You’ll find out soon enough at the meeting.”

Ada and I exchange looks. “What meeting? When is it?”

Just then the door opens and John sticks his head in. “They’re here.”

Polly nods to me. “Right now.”

Back inside the bullring, all the Shelbys and Peaky Blinders have gathered to discuss today’s mysterious event. Polly instructs us to keep hidden behind the door. Thomas stands at the front, as if he were a general addressing his army.

“Right. I’ve brought you all here today because this is the day we replace Billy Kimber. This is the day we become respectable, the day we join the official National Association of Race Course Bookmakers. But first, we do the dirty work. We’ve all known this day’s been coming. I just haven’t told anyone the date.”

He pauses to let the words sink in. Of course there’s a catch to Thomas going legally straight.

“We’re going to the Worcester races. Track opens at one, we get there at two. Thanks to the efforts of John and his lovely new wife Esme, the Lees are now our kin. I can assure you John is making great sacrifices for our condition of peace.”

Snickers and muffled laughs echo throughout the room and John rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

Very mature, Thomas. Joke about the relations between a man and wife.

“So it’s us and the Lees against Kimber. I expect a swift victory that will reach all the way to London to let them know that we believe in letting business run peacefully.” Thomas pauses again and makes his next words very clear. “I will deal with Kimber. Any questions?”

A few seconds go by and Polly speaks up. “Yes. Does anyone mind if I invite a newcomer to the meeting?”

No one objects and Ada steps out from behind the door, holding her new child close. Thomas immediately smiles at the arrival of his sister. She’s home.

“I’d like to introduce the newest member of the Shelby clan,” Thomas says proudly.

For a while there’s an awkward silence. But it’s soon interrupted by a thunderous applause to the wide-eyed babe.

“Welcome home, Ada,” Thomas greets softly.

“Let me look at ‘im!” Arthur smiles proudly at the new Shelby. “He’s a strong lad, he is! He’s a Shelby.”

Thomas walks up to her and I see her scan his face for sincerity. “Ada? Am I forgiven?”

Ada nods. “If what Aunt Polly says is true, yeah.”

“It’s true.”

Ada smiles and they embrace in a long-awaited hug. It warms my heart to see siblings together again. Someday I’ll get home and be able to see my own brothers again. Conor and Liam will probably scold me for not writing. Eoin and Abel will want to see me fire a gun. Nicolaas and his wife will want me to have lunch with them.

Arthur points to where I’m hiding and pulls me out. “You’ll be guarding the house, Steenstra.”

“Finn’s going too, I imagine? Off to learn the family business of violence, hm?”

“Absolutely,” Thomas walks up. “Unfortunately you ladies will be staying behind.”

My face falls. I’m stuck here? “Why can’t I-?”

“Because there’s no one else I trust more than you to guard my sister and her child. If things go wrong I want you with them.”

Oh. Does he trust me? I’ve been accepted as an accomplice to the Peaky Blinders but now I’ve been given the honor of protecting a predecessor. Thomas seems to have completely forgotten about thinking I could be a spy. Careful, Verena. You’re letting your heart get crushed by a man who knows no love.

“We’re stopping by the Garrison for a drink before we go,” Thomas mentions to John.

So he’ll see Grace again. I can already tell what he’s thinking. After seeing John so happy with Esme there’s no doubt he’s thinking about marriage. If not already it’ll be in his head soon.

Before he marches out with the other Shelby brothers I stop him. “God be with you, Thomas. Send my hopes to the others as well.”

His battle-ready gaze softens. “Thanks for being here, Verena. It means a lot. Especially to Ada.”

It’s not exactly an apology but I’ll take it. I just hope today isn’t blotched with any unwanted death.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky fookin blinders #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #polly gray #arthur shelby #john shelby #finn shelby #grace burgess #cillian murphy

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nanawritesit · 2 years ago

Text

Bodyguard!Baekhyun x Pregnant!Reader: Angst to Fluff

Anonymous said: “Hi! Could you write cold/bodyguard Baekhyun and pregnant reader? Baekhyun doesn't want the baby but reader resists. No angst end pleaseee. 😢”

TW: fem!reader, domestic angst, mentions of contraception, pregnancy, sex, and violence. brief mentions of suicide

——————

Your heart was beating out of your chest. Your palms were sweating profusely. You were shaking like a leaf.

You tried your best to ignore your growing anxiety, mindlessly going through the motions to prepare dinner for you and your husband. Of course he didn’t expect you to, but you wanted to surprise him. Especially because you were planning on presenting some big news to him. You might be pregnant.

To be honest, you weren’t sure how Baekhyun was going to act. He was religious about using condoms and always asked if you were taking your pills, so part of you was worried he absolutely did not want a baby. On the other hand, when you first got married he would sometimes fantasize about moving somewhere far away with you and starting a family. You didn’t know what to expect tonight, so you were obviously very nervous.

“Baby I’m home-“ a voice boomed from the entrance of your home. You croaked out a simple “kitchen” in response. You heard him set down his bag and begin to take off his boots, and after a while he appeared in your doorway. He was dressed in all black, like usual. God, he looked so rugged and strong. It’s no wonder you were knocked up. “Hey beautiful. How was your day?” he asked, coming up behind you to kiss your cheek.

“Oh…. the usual…” you lied, setting down your spatula. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

He was resting his head on your shoulder, lips pressing against your neck in the form of a few short kisses. “You didn’t have to cook, baby.” he chuckled.

“I know, I just thought it sounded… nice tonight.” you lied once again, nervously pushing yourself out of his grasp and huffing over to the other counter to cut up some vegetables. “You should go wash up, I’m almost done.”

“Yes ma’am.” he laughed, confused but going along.

You heaved a sigh of relief as he left the kitchen, busying yourself with setting the table. Soon he was back from the washroom and fixing up a plate. You both took your seats at the table and began eating dinner. You were too anxious to eat normally, picking at your food and taking small bites. He was the opposite, ravenously devouring the meat and vegetables with rice.

“You’re hungry today.” you commented, trying to make conversation to calm your nerves.

“Yeah, I am.” he chuckled, taking a sip of water. “Work was so rough today. Some crazy fan jumped at my client and I had to hold him off.”

“That sounds scary, are you okay?” you asked, concerned.

“Oh yeah, he wasn’t armed or anything. I guess I should’ve mentioned that.” he laughed at himself, and you joined him in spite of your anxiety.

“Yeah, just give your poor wife a heart attack why don’cha.” you giggled, pushing your plate away from you.

He looked up at you. “You done eating already?”

“Yeah, I’m not feeling too good tonight…” you told him. It wasn’t a huge lie, you did have a decent stomachache. That’s what led you to buy a pregnancy test in the first place.

You continued listening to him talk about his day at work, laughing at the funny parts and gasping at his stories of crazy people. Being married to a bodyguard was always interesting to say the least. Of course, it worried you how dangerous his line of work was, but you knew how much he loved it, and it at least gave you some interesting conversations. Before you knew it, he was done eating.

“That was delicious baby, thank you for cooking dinner.” he complimented you, reaching across the table to pat your hand. “Hey, do you wanna go get some ice cream for dessert? I’ll pay.”

“No I’m okay honey, like I said I don’t feel very good.” you told him.

“Man, you must be sick if you’re turning down ice cream.” he chuckled, giving your hand a light squeeze.

“Yeah, that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about…” you began, sitting up in your chair.

“What, are you sick or something?” he asked, slightly concerned.

“Not exactly…” you explained, feeling your stomach tie into a knot. “I don’t know how to lead into this, so I guess I’ll just come out and say it. Baekhyun, I’m pregnant.”

He completely froze up. He didn’t move a single muscle for what felt like ages, then he just clicked his lips and brought a hand up to rub his brow bone. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I think you heard me Baek.” you laughed nervously.

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked, looking into your eyes intensely. He wasn’t showing any emotion at all, which made it very hard to gauge his reaction.

“Babe I peed on like four sticks and they all said the same thing.” you blurted put, starting to feel defensive.

“I don’t understand. We use condoms every time we have sex.” he began, getting up and rushing to the bathroom to grab the box.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, then got up to follow after him. “Honey you know those only work like 98% of the time right?”

You found him in the bathroom, sifting through the trash with the box of condoms next to him. “There must have been a hole in it or something. I swear to God when I find that thing I’m gonna sue the company.”

“Baekhyun what is the big deal!” you asked, tugging on his shoulder. “Why can’t you just accept it?”

“Because I don’t want a baby right now Y/N!” he snapped, whipping around to look at you. There was an awkward moment of silence between the two of you, the tension in the room just having reached its climax.

“You don’t?” you asked meekly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Y/N, we’ve talked about this…” he sighed, getting up to stand in front of you. “I have no business being a father when I work in such a dangerous environment.”

“Okay, so do I not have any say in whether or not I want to be a mother?” you asked, starting to get angry.

“That’s not what I said.” he stated flatly. “Do you know what it’s like to go to work every day and know that you might get hurt, or even killed? Now imagine having that knowledge with a family involved. If anything happens to me, this kid doesn’t have a dad anymore. Do you want that for them?”

You started to feel tears prick at your eyes. You bit your lip and looked at the ground, choking down the sobs that threatened to erupt from your throat. “Do you not consider me your family?” you asked finally.

His mouth dropped open a tiny bit at the accusation, baffled that he had implied such a thing. “Yes, I do. I don’t know why I said it that way, but that’s not what I meant.”

“Because maybe you shouldn’t have married me if you’re so worried about dying everyday!” you shrieked, finally snapping. The tears were streaming down your face like a waterfall and you could hardly breathe. You wanted to scream.

“Honey, I-“ he reached a hand out towards you, but you pushed his arm away and shoved your way past him and out of the bathroom.

Baekhyun immediately turnt around and tried to follow you into your bedroom, but you were too quick to slam the door behind you and lock it.

“Babe!” he pleaded, fiddling with the door knob and knocking urgently. When you have no response, he sighed and rested his head on the door. “Okay… I can see we’re not getting anywhere like this. I’ll give you some time to yourself. I’m gonna go take a walk. I love you.”

——————

Baekhyun didn’t know how to feel as he walked through the park. He never liked seeing you upset, and he tried his best to never be the reason. But he just couldn’t accept the idea of having children.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like kids… he got along with them just fine. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t fantasize from time to time about starting a family with you. However, he thought that was as far as it should go. Fantasies, not reality.

He exhaled into the cold air, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket, before plopping down on a park bench to collect his thoughts. As he was disassociating, he noticed a man and a woman playing with what looked like their young daughter. She had to be around five years old. They all looked so happy.

He knew he eventually wanted kids. Just not now. Work was too stressful.

But when was it not going to be? Was there ever really going to be a good time to have a baby?

Baekhyun began to look closer at the man. He wondered if he had any worries about his capabilities as a father. Did he ever regret settling down?

He took one last look at his face, and noticed the bright smile upon it. As the man stared at the woman and child next to him, he looked as if he had everything he ever wanted right in front of him. It was honestly pretty easy to envision himself as the man, and you as the woman. He really liked thinking about what your child would look like. What features of his they would have, and which of yours… raising them, protecting them, and keeping them safe…

That was something he was confident he could do. He kept people safe all day at work. He also enjoyed feeling like he protected you and your home. Would it really be so difficult to add a little one to his list? People tried so hard to have kids everyday, and you were both just given one with hardly any effort.

He knew you would be a terrific mother. He saw the way you looked at other parents with their children… the loving sparkle in your eyes when you played with kids. You wanted it more than anything, but with him always shying away from the idea, you never talked about it.

It was then that he realized, he could give you that. In fact, he already had. You were probably so excited to tell him, and with the way he reacted…. oh god, he felt just horrible. He immediately sprung up and started jogging back to your apartment.

———————

“Baby?” he cried out as he burst through the front door of your home. He wanted to see you so bad that he didn’t even bother to take off his boots or jacket.

He instinctively started running for the bedroom, as it was the last place he saw you. But as soon as he got there, the door was open and you were nowhere to be seen. He glanced over to the bathroom to see the door shut, signaling that you were in there.

“Baby!” he called for you, reaching for the doorknob. The door was locked, and you weren’t answering. All he could hear was the water running, so he immediately assumed the worst.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, pounding on the door rapidly. He was freaking out. He knew what he had to do. He took a few steps back, then leapt forward and broke the door open.

You jumped at the sudden intrusion from your place in the bathtub.

“Baekhyun what the hell!” you shrieked, ripping your earbuds out of your ears.

He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of you. “You weren’t answering and I heard the water running, so I was worried…”

“Oh my gosh, no. I’m not going to drown myself just because you don’t want our baby.” you huffed. “I just wanted to take a bubble bath to clear my head.”

He kneeled down next to the tub and reached for your hand. You hesitated, but let him hold it.

“Y/N, I want to have this baby with you.” he told you.

“Do you actually?” you asked sharply, shooting daggers at him with your gaze. “Or are you just telling me that to make me happy? I’m only going to raise this kid with you if we both want it.”

“No, I’m not saying I’ll just be ‘okay’ with it. I genuinely want to be a father. ” he reassured you, reaching forward to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You looked over him suspiciously. “What changed your mind?”

He placed his hand softly on your cheek. “When I was at the park, I saw a family playing together. They looked so happy together. I started to think of all the wonderful things I’d gain from being a father. All the memories we could make as a family, all the love we have to share with our child…”

You started to relax into his touch, leaning more towards him. “What kind of memories?”

“Teaching our kid how to walk and talk, taking them to school, taking them to the park…” he started listing, looking at you with an excited sparkle in his eyes. “I’d like to take them to Disney World. We can all make breakfast together, throw them birthday parties, read them stories…”

You smiled at him lovingly. “You’ll be an amazing dad Baekhyun.”

“And you are going to be the most amazing mother in the world.” he continued. “You’re so kind, and patient, and smart, and strong�� I hope our baby is just like you.” He suddenly plunged one of his hands under the water to touch your tummy. “I’m so excited to go on this journey with you Y/N. I’m so sorry my first reaction was so horrible.”

“You’d better be.” you teased, splashing some water up at him. “Every woman’s worst nightmare is getting pregnant and the father wanting nothing to do with them. I was worried I was going to have to leave you and move in with my mother!”

He laughed at you, wiping the water off of his cheek. “I promise you, as long as I’m living, I’ll be by your side. I’ll take you to all your doctors appointments, buy you all the food you’re craving, give you back rubs… You won’t have to lift a finger for the next nine months. And if you go into labor while I’m at work, I’ll just tell my client they’ll have to protect themselves and hop in a cab.”

You giggled as you imagined the scenario. “Well you don’t have to do that, but I appreciate the sentiment. I’m so glad you’re ready to start a family.”

“I really am.” he told you. He leaned forward to place a tender kiss on your lips. “Now, would you like some company in that big lonely tub?”

“Yes I would.” you chirped in reply.

Maybe telling your husband about your pregnancy didn’t go exactly as you’d planned. But the two of you never really went the traditional route anyway. You knew that the two of you could overcome any obstacle, big or small. All you needed was each other. Soon, you would be parents. And you couldn’t wait to meet your little baby.

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