#eleventh month of the year | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theoldsports · 5 months

Text

SPONTANEOUS.

Art Donaldson x Reader

oops. it’s gonna be a series. i’m developing Lore. let me know what you think and where to go next.

warnings: 18+ please, drug use mention, drinking (underage), kinda sexual content.

LINK TO SORRY SERIES

Fancy parties were loathsome. [Y/N] thought so, at least. She hated being told to stop calling them fancy parties and shindigs and to call them by their proper names: galas, benefits, balls, whatever. It was exhausting. Her feet weren’t meant to be elegantly jammed into spike heels. [Y/N] liked the height she was, thank you very much.

Did supporting charitable causes have to feel so degrading?

Capitalism at its finest.

[Y/N] had been attending these things since she was a little girl. Seven or eight years old. So young, in fact, that she now can’t remember what demographic or ailment-research, or political party this goddamn yearly spring shindig was for. Mr. and Mrs. Zweig were always nice to her when she was a child. She wasn’t just a family-friend, she (and her parents) felt like friends that were family.

What made the lavish Zweig parties tolerable was Patrick Zweig. She had known Patrick as long as there had been parties to get dressed up for. He had scraped her off a marbled staircase step as a little girl when her polished pleather mary janes didn’t have the traction to keep her upright. She had cried when she fell. He had said: “you’re really loud, you know that?” And she had laughed. So they were doomed to spend eternity hiding in coat rooms and getting tipsy together at these things.

Patrick was never one of those boys that felt the need to turn his back on [Y/N] during the cooties years, or the so-she’s-your-girlfriend? years. The pair of them always managed to be simply themselves and that was enough. He was merciless and unapologetic, but he made a hell of a best friend.

[Y/N] was two months older than Patrick, and had been taller for their first two years of friendship. When his shift in stature occurred, it happened fast.

Patrick went away to boarding school and came back a gangly beast. [Y/N], though they hadn’t spent every waking moment (weekends and school days) together since he had left her for a racket and a tennis ball, was always pleased to see Patrick was still himself every time he came home. Louder and stupider each time, but still Patrick.

Though, one spring break was different. Eleventh grade, if [Y/N] recalled correctly. Patrick came home, tall and stupid as ever, toting a boy named Art Donaldson.

Art Donaldson was considerably smaller, and debatably less stupid than Patrick Zweig. [Y/N] understood that day why all the girls in her grade giggled about boys. [Y/N] could never tell Patrick that. He would have been insufferable about it.

Actually, [Y/N] felt jealous. That was also a secret. Because Art, unlike she and Patrick, was nice. Everybody liked him. Nobody ever talked shit about him. Adults loved him and his small-town boy manners. He actually was a rambunctious little jerk, but nobody else saw that. Everyone else got yes sir, yes ma’am, I’m well, how are you? He could turn that charm on and off like a faucet. Infuriating, right?

[Y/N] was also jealous because it was clear she had been replaced.

Patrick lit up like a Christmas tree when he was with Art. He never looked at her like that. Art must have been a better friend to him then she was. Patrick called her once a week to talk for years, but Art slept, like, six feet away from him. It simply wasn’t fair.

Because of that, [Y/N] remembers spring break was really hard. [Y/N] was acutely aware she had lost something she didn’t know she could lose to the human version of a fucking beagle.

[Y/N] couldn’t remember the grade they were in exactly, but she did remember the dress she wore to the Zweigs’ party that year. It was light green and had spaghetti straps. It was longer and more form-fitting than what she was used. Most of the girls her age had settled for lots of tulle and cheetah-print so [Y/N] looked more mature by comparison. It was the first time [Y/N] remembered feeling grown up at all.

To think she thought that all her excitement and contentment was wasted. [Y/N] sat in a plastic pool chair in the backyard curled up with her cork wedge platforms resting dangerously close to the water. She nursed a bottle of vodka she had swiped two months ago from her parents liquor cabinet to surprise Patrick. Meticulously, she had waited for them to be out of town and found the key to the liquor cabinet. A whole bottle just for [Y/N] and her best friend. [Y/N] had barely managed to keep it a secret that she had taken it. She had been so proud of herself and thought Patrick would be too.

Now, she was the only one around to drink it.

Patrick had put his warm, familiar hands on her shoulders and told [Y/N] to wait right there and that he and Art would be back in a sec. The two boys had vanished upstairs presumably to Patrick’s room with laughter spilling from their mouths. [Y/N] sat at the base of the stairs alone for twenty minutes.

According to the garish clock on the wall, at twenty-one minutes, [Y/N] disappeared to the pool. She officially hated Patrick too. He had left her alone at parties plenty of times, and she him. They’d dance with others, or sneak off for a makeout session with a pretty stranger. It had never been a big deal either way. This felt like deliberate abandonment for no good reason. That was a first.

“Whoa, save some for the rest of us.” A reedy voice called out. Art Donaldson. [Y/N]’s head glanced over her shoulder so fast at the sound that she almost made herself dizzy. It took little time to realize there was no Patrick with him.

[Y/N] pulled the bottle closer. “That was a really long one sec,” She replied. She planned to say that eventually in the wasted minutes she waited, but it sounded less cool now than it did in her head. [Y/N] sounded plain mopey and that was a shame. “What’d you guys do anyway? Where’s Patrick?”

Art shrugged and walked further into view. He looked a bit sheepish. “Being Patrick,” He didn’t answer the first question she asked. There was a half-smile tugging at his lips. Art looked nice. Brown dress shoes, navy jacket, white shirt. No tie. She could have sworn that had been a tie at some point earlier. His shaggy blonde hair was mussed, but she had yet to observe it being neat. It was fustrating how effortlessly nice he looked. [Y/N] thought that everyday from day one. “It’s getting kinda cold. You wanna head back inside? I was looking for you—“

“I’m alright here, but thanks,” she slurred slightly. “You head in. I’m not here to ruin your fun.” It had sounded bitter. She hadn’t meant for it to.

Art sighed and glanced away from her. He paused a moment and sighed. “I’m not here to ruin yours either, y’know.”

“You don’t have to make this into a thing. It’s fine.”

“Well, too late. Patrick’s being an ass. I don’t want you out here feeling like I’m some homewrecker. I’ve been on the receiving end of shit like this from him, too. He’s not trying to be nasty to you, ‘promise. Come on, I’m not gonna let you freeze out here.” Art said, stepping in a bit. The glow from the pool left green and white wiggly lines across his cheeks.

“It’s spring, It’ll warm up. Get back up to that party, man. Patrick’s waiting for you.”

“You’re being impossible.”

[Y/N] set the half-empty bottle down beneath her chair. “Nuh-uh.”

“Jesus… if you’re gonna be a jerk about it, at least take this.” Art frowned, shrugging out of his suit jacket. He seemed disappointed.

“Oh, Art, please—“

“No, no! You made your choice. Don’t let me spoil your fun with you and the… the vodka,” Art said, making a show of taking the jacket off and throwing it over to [Y/N]. The balled up lump of fabric landed in her lap with a soft thud. Her stomach churned. “All hunky dory now,” He said, holding his hands out to show he was no threat. Art’s brows were lowered protectively close to his eyes in what [Y/N] thought was an effort to mask slight hurt or rejection. He turned to walk away as [Y/N] clutched the fabric of his jacket between her fingers. Art turned back to to look at her for a moment. [Y/N] didn’t know what that expression was meant to mean. “Be careful, okay? For what it’s worth, you—you look lovely tonight. It would be a shame for such a, uh, such a pretty girl in a pretty dress to end up face down, stuck in the pool drain. ‘Night [Y/N].”

[Y/N] was glad for the dark because she felt her face heat up and dopey smile start to form at the compliment. Maybe she was drunk, but that had to be flirting. In the most fucked up way possible, but still. Why? Art Donaldson didn’t even like her.

Art had only managed to take a few steps into the dewy grass when [Y/N] begrudgingly called out: “Art, wait!”

She hated that she liked the smirk on his face when he turned around. He could tell what she wanted by her tone. What kind of fucker takes no for answer happily and still sets himself up for a yes in the end. “Yes?” He asked, trying not to smile.

“Listen, you’re right—“ [Y/N] stood up confidently, sliding Art’s jacket around her shoulders. And she stood up too fast and knocked her sandals into the pool. “Shit!” She cursed. She was still an age where cursing felt cool and unfamiliar. [Y/N] stood on her unsteady feet and watched her sandals bob out to the middle of the pool, propelled by her kick. She was embarrassed now as well. The stakes of everything felt so much higher than sandals in the pool of her best friend’s backyard. Booze will do that to the sanest of folks. [Y/N] dropped her face heavily into her hands. Great.

Quickly, Art cut his eyes between her and the shoes and back again. “Where do they keep the pool net?” Art asked calmly, without missing a beat.

“The shed.” [Y/N] said miserably and pointed a few feet away. Art bounded across the pavement around the pool to the shed. He tugged once, then twice.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “It’s locked,” He reported to [Y/N] from practically halfway in the pruned hedges. Art started the walk back to her. Once he was beside her, Art placed a hand gently at her elbow. “Come back inside with me. Please. Patrick may be able to get us a key and we can…”

But [Y/N] looked so sad from behind her hands. Even though all of this was so childish. She was also wearing Art’s jacket now and that did things to his brain. Her dress wasn’t not low cut and he froze for a second. All he could do was stare.

“Just do what I would do,” Patrick said. “It’ll be fine, man. She’s already into you, I can tell.”

“Well, if she’s into me, why would I do what you would do? That’s an awful suggestion, Patrick.” Art protested.

Patrick spun around in his desk chair to face Art as he rolled a joint. “I’ve known her since before I knew you. Just, like, be spontaneous. That’s what I mean. Spontaneous. She’s into that because she’s like that too. And she’s… wicked mean, so don’t start shit. She’ll surprise you, but like, in a good way. What I said before makes me sound like a jackass,” Patrick paused to laugh. “Be in the moment. Don’t get in your head about it. Which you’re doing right now— I can tell, Arthur…” Patrick drew out Art’s full name (which he hated) to get under his skin.

Art stood up from the floor in frustration. He glanced at his watch. Too much time had passed. The window was metaphorically closing. Hastily, Art dashed to the door. “I’m going down there. Poor girl’s been waiting all this time because you, my friend, are a shitty advice-giver.”

“Spontaneous!” Patrick called after him with a grin.

Art stared at [Y/N]. Then he blinked. Then tilted his head to the side. Spontaneous. Before he knew it, he was tugging his shoes and socks off and diving into the pool. Art had been right, it was getting decisively cold and the pool water reflected that. Art swam out to where the wedges had floated too, which had actually been fairly far. He wasn’t sure if the net would have gotten them that easily. Art nicked the shoes by the ankle straps and shook his wet hair out of his face. As he paddled back, he glanced at [Y/N]’s expression. She smiled wide with joy and surprise at Art’s sacrifice.

“Art! Thank you so much!” She said when he flopped the waterlogged shoes onto the concrete. Art looked up at her from the water and he only looked up her skirt a little bit.

“It’s no trouble. Repayment’s in order, though.”

“Repayment…? What do you—“

Art wrapped his wet, callused hands around both of [Y/N] ankles and flipped her into the pool. She screamed as she splashed into the pool. Then laughed hard. Art wanted to hear that laugh for the rest of his life.

“Wait, fuck, you can swim, right?”

Fortunately, [Y/N] could, and that’s the move that won Art Donaldson his wife.

—

“Honey, you have to get up so you can get ready…” Art’s mouth moved against the shell of [Y/N]’s left ear. His arm was tossed over her middle. Normally, it was Art that dreaded getting out of bed, but clearly they enjoyed switching roles once in a while.

A nap had turned into two-and-a-half hours of [Y/N]’s soft snores while Art held her. He couldn’t sleep much, but luckily he had something beautiful to look at. She ripped into him about his staring problem all the time. Art couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. “No.” She mumbled.

“Please…” Art’s hand trailed under her shirt and climbed up, up, up.

“No,” she sighed. Art’s hands groped her left breast and [Y/N] didn’t particularly mind. She shivered at the contact. Art had known every inch of her body over years. Neither was bored yet, though.

“It’s one night. One party. We don’t have to stay all night… He’s not going to be there, Lenora told me when I RSVP’d.”

They had an unspoken rule. They did not name Patrick in conversation when sober. The wound was too fresh still.

“Don’t talk about him, or his fucking mom when you’re touching me like that,” [Y/N] all but moaned as Art’s left thumb circled her nipple. “‘Thought we had to get up…”

Art smirked. “We do. At least you’re awake now.” He teasingly withdrew his hand entirely from out of her shirt and scampered out of bed in one agile zip of a motion.

“Art!”

She groaned. Rolling on her back to look at the ceiling, she glanced over at Art walking through the master bathroom doorway in his briefs. What an incredible ass that man has. “Motivation to leave the party early.” Art said and popped off into the shower.

Maybe it was selfish. Patrick and [Y/N] and Art hadn’t spoken in almost a year. It was no surprise to the Donaldsons that Patrick was an addict. He had been addicted to almost everything and everyone that crossed his path. What they hadn’t expected was him becoming so out of control that he missed the wedding of his two best friends and was sent into rehab once he was declared medically stable. The one person that both Donaldsons had fought to have in their own personal half of the wedding party. And he wasn’t there. And the wedding was expensive enough to go through with it amid all the bad feelings over Patrick.

Still, they were invited to the Zweig family’s charity or whatever gala. They would go like they always had, too. But it would be their first time alone, so to speak.

[Y/N] regretfully got out of bed while Art showered. She moved to the closet and unzipped her paper thin dress bag. The gown itself was beautiful, but not all too expensive. The year had been tight in terms of money. The wedding and the honeymoon were pricey enough before you added in rackets and competition entry fees and coaching. Art was an expensive husband to have. He made up for it. He was playing at his best too, so [Y/N] hardly cared. Who could put a price on seeing Art smile like that?

[Y/N] cringed if she had to pay more than two-hundred dollars for shoes or a dress anyway.

The dress was green. She’d worn a lot of green since she met Art. [Y/N] dreaded wiggling into shapewear and spending too long on her hair. Art had it easy. A tie, a jacket and trading his nasty watch for his nicer one. It wasn’t fair. It never was with Art.

She got ready all the same. The straps rested on her shoulders, thicker than the early 2000s straps she had been dumped into the pool in. It was longer than that dress. Almost floor length instead of mid calf. It was elegant for its price tag.

Once the dress was on, [Y/N] tumbled into the bathroom to do her makeup. The shared counter was way too small for both of their shit to sit nicely on. She would complain about that when there was more money in the bank account to do something about it. Art was taking longer than normal in the shower. Boner, [Y/N] thought.

As she started to put her face on, she could see Art’s face in the foggy mirror behind her. The sound of the water stopping and the shower curtain being tossed back had gone unnoticed. He was smiling slightly. “You look nice.” He said softly. Art toweled off his shaggy hair harshly behind her. He kept looking at her.

This is how Art was. He made these remarkable heart eyes at her every time he saw her. [Y/N] could be wearing a potato sack and she would feel beautiful. That look, that staring problem, was worse a hundredfold when she was dressed up. He kept glancing at her. She could see him in the mirror. He wanted [Y/N] to see. The blue and brown of his eyes cast further and further down her body.

“Staring.” [Y/N] said simply. She didn’t even look away from her own face in the mirror.

“Yeah. And?” Art smiled cheekily. His face was bright red not from the warm shower water. He wrapped his towel around his slim waist. [Y/N] applied too much concealer and less blush. “I, of all people, am allowed.”

“Idiot.” [Y/N] said. Art dried his hands profusely on his towel, knowing she would squawk at him if he left wet handprints behind on her dress.

Art’s hands wrapped around her waist. Great pains were taken to prevent other wet spots from splopping up her dress. So, so gently, he kissed the left side of her neck from behind. “I was thinking—” Art was always gentle in his own way.

“Ooh, dangerous.”

“Shut up. Y’know, this is the first Zweig party where your placecard is going to say Donaldson on it…”

[Y/N] nodded softly. “Huh. Yeah. That’s true.” She said, smiling a bit.

“I’m really, really excited about that. On the seating chart, we’re the Donaldsons. Isn’t that so crazy…?” Art whispered into her plush skin. “Plural. Two of us.”

Teasingly, she nudged him back with her elbow. The smile was still wide on her lips. “You’re being such a girl about it.”

Art didn’t let go or relent. He pressed feather-light kisses between [Y/N]’s ear and collarbone. “Am I? Hadn’t noticed.”

“We’re going to be late to this thing you want to go to so bad, Mr. Donaldson, if you don’t stop.” [Y/N] whispered, incapable of doing more. She did set down her makeup sponge and pot of foundation with a clack.

“Would that be such a bad thing? Only a couple minutes, right? We could-we could cut out some of the boring small talk and…” Art said, daring boldly to drag his tongue up her throat as the steamed up mirror cleared some. He never finished his sentence verbally.

[Y/N] gasped at the feeling. That was a brave move for Art. “You drag me out of bed early so we can be late anyway. You don’t make any s-sense, babe.”

He huffed impishly. Art spun [Y/N] around to face him. His face and shoulders were damp from the water collected in his hair, which desperately needed a trim. Carefully, Art brushed [Y/N]’s hair away from her face. “You’re right… I’m sorry. Please let me make it up to you?”

“How?”

Then, Art’s mouth quirked into that crooked smile she loved so much.

“Please.” Art said in a hushed voice and boosted [Y/N] smoothly onto their rickety counter. “Give me ten minutes.”

“You can do better than ten.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Clock’s ticking.” When she said it, she heard Art’s knees hit the tile in front of her.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson #challengers movie #challengers #patrick zweig #tashi duncan

1K notes · View notes

mountainsandmayhem · 3 months

Text

BDSMaid - Chapter 2

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love. Chapter Summary: Try as he might, Joel just can’t shake the memory of you. Try as you might, you can’t stop thinking of the woman tied to his desk. CW: The slow burn is burning. Mentions of death and underage drinking. Topless in public, this is a love story about BDSM after all. Reader does have some physical descriptions, so maybe more of an OFC, or just pretend you have pouty lips and a slightly upturned nose. Double POV (reader and Joel). AN: Thank you SO FUCKING MUCH for all the love on chapter one of this story. I literally cannot believe it surpasses 1000 notes in just a month, you're all insane and I love you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Biiiig shout outs to the bb's who have been so supportive of me spiralling and panicking this last month over the next chapter. I'd be in a deep dark cave without you @mermaidgirl30 @littlevenicebitch69 @lotusbxtch @evolnoomym @joelmillerisapunk and @milla-frenchy . Thank you! I feel like I'm giving some sort of Oscars speech and if you're still reading this, you're the real MVP. XO Word Count: 8.5k

~ Joel - 27 Years Ago ~

Joel’s stands in the garage of someone he barely knows, surrounded by drunk and rowdy classmates from his high school. He’s a senior, graduating in just a few weeks and moments like this are one of the perks of being the star designated hitter and first baseman, everyone wants you at their party. Someone hands him a warm, flat beer that was pumped poorly from a keg as they pat his back roughly in congratulations. Joel’s not sure how a bunch of seventeen year olds managed to get a keg, most likely an older brother, but he drinks the shitty beer all the same. Speaking of brothers, he hasn’t seen Tommy in a while. He’s only fifteen and he promised their mom he’d keep an eye on him. The younger Miller shouldn’t be at a seniors party, but that's where those perks come in again, because if Joel was good, Tommy was better. In fact, he was so much better that he’s played up a whole age group his entire life, always right beside Joel. Tommy was the back catcher, and tonight he got the eleventh inning game winning out at home for them to win the state championship.

He finds Tommy chatting with a group of girls, all of whom are incredibly beautiful. They’re going to be very disappointed when they find out how much younger he is than them. Joel smiles into his red solo cup as he takes a sip of stale beer. He tucks his free hand into the pocket of his light blue wranglers and walks over to the wall of the garage. He leans back and crosses one cowboy booted foot over the other. The brim of his cowboy hat grazes the unpainted drywall behind him. Texas, and the country, in the late nineties was where everyone wanted to be, and Joel Miller could have been the poster boys for teenage country boys in 1997.

Brooks & Dunn plays on someone's CD player in the corner, laughter and people talking overlaps until it’s just noise to Joel. He stands back, watching his younger brother effortlessly charm the five pretty girls around him. All of them in tight blue jeans, lacy white tops, denim vests and cowboy boots. He grabs one by the hand and Joel overhears, “I’ll teach ya how to two step, shame to not know in a place like this.” Then the motherfucker winks at her like he’s some sort of cowboy Casanova. Joel lets out a silent laugh through his nose and sips the beer again shaking his head.

Just as Tommy pulls the pretty little blonde over towards the unmarked and unofficial dance floor in the corner of the garage the song changes. Slow guitar, followed by the unmistakable twang of Tim Magraw’s voice. Joel didn’t know it then, but that song would change the course of his life and intertwine itself in the very fabric of his being.

‘Dancin’ in the dark, Middle of the night’

That’s when he sees her, tall and slender, deep olive toned skin and pale green eyes. Her dark curly hair cascades over one of her shoulders. She’s laughing with another classmate, and even though he can’t hear the sound of it over the noise of the party, he can tell it’s a light and melodic sound, and he wants to spend the rest of his life drawing that out of her.

‘Takin’ your heart, An holdin’ it tight’

He puts his warm beer on the work bench beside him and takes off his black felt Stetson, placing it over his broad chest, hoping the comfort of his favourite hat would slow the rate at which his heart is beating.

‘Emotional touch, Touchin’ my skin, And askin’ you to do, What you’ve been doin’ all over again’

She looks over at him, smiling shyly, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s walking over to her. His legs move on their own accord, knees shaking as he approaches the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

‘Oh, it’s a beautiful thing, Don’t think I can keep it all in, I just gotta let you know, What is that won’t let me go’

Everything in the room fades as she fully comes into view. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe the girl in front of him. She radiates a warmth that he’s only ever known his mother to radiate. It’s the first time he’s ever seen this girl, but she feels like home. This is it, that one thing that everyone says you’re supposed to feel. The thing his grandpa told him when he was younger, “Son, you’ll just know. It sounds ridiculous, but when I saw your grandma it was like a pull behind my belly button. I just knew, and I’ve known everyday since then.”

“Howdy, ma’am,” Joel says, tipping his hat to her before placing it back on his head.

She giggles, confirming his earlier thoughts. It really is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard. “Hi.”

He holds out a hand to her and she takes it, her skin is so warm and smooth. In that moment he knows that hers will be the last hand he ever holds. Fire flushes through his veins as he continues, “I’m Joel, what’s your name?”

“Oh, I know who you are Joel Miller,” she flirts, not letting go of his hand. “I’m Tiffany.”

“Tiffany,” he repeats, his voice going deeper as he says it. It’s egotistical but he loves the way girls shiver just a little when he lowers his register. “And how is it that you know who I am?”

She slides her hand from his and reaches up to grab his cowboy hat, plopping it onto her head. “Star first baseman and designated hitter, everyone knows Joel Miller. Look around, look at all these girls lookin’ at you, cowboy.”

For the first time in his life Joel finds himself blushing, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Tiffany.

“I only see one girl.” She rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep at the cheesy line, but that was it for both of them. From that point they were inseparable.

They both turned eighteen a few months later, and just ten months, and a thirty two hour labour after Tiff turned eighteen, a tiny little Sarah came into the world all pink and screaming. Joel hears that song again as he watches Tiffany hold that little bundle of blankets, ‘Better than I was, More than I am, And all of this happened, By taking your hand.’

They get married when Sarah is just a few months old. Both his beautiful curly haired girls in white dresses, Tiffany grabbing that same black Stetson off his head during their first dance. He holds them both, swaying from side to side, a hot tear rolling down his cheek at how goddamn happy he is. ‘And who I am now, Is who I wanted to be, And now that we’re together, I’m stronger than ever, I’m happy and free’.

Things for their little family of three are perfect. They buy the house with the white picket fence and the wrap around porch. Joel gets a job working construction and enjoys a nightcap with his beautiful young wife on their front porch every night. They make love often, slow and sweaty, Joel worshiping her soft copper toned skin inch by glorious inch. Tiffany wraps every minute of her day around Sarah and being a sweet, devoted housewife. Nothing seems to stand in their way. Until the diagnosis shortly before Sarah starts Kindergarten.

Tiffany is too young, they’re all too young. This isn’t something that happens to people their age, they haven’t had enough time. Joel spends the next few months in a haze, it has to be a bad dream. The appointments, the treatments, the call to 911 when the illness starts to win. This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

He holds Tiffany until the very end. Sponging a soft kiss to her forehead, whispering his goodbyes as they shut off the machines keeping her here. “You’ve been so strong, my love. You fought so hard. I know you’re scared to go, I’m scared too, but we’ll do it like we do everything else. Together. I’ll be ok, Sarah will be ok. Just rest now. I love you.”

As she takes her last shaky and shallow breath, a sound will live with him until he takes a breath that matches hers, that song echoes through his hollow chest. ‘It’s your love, It does something to me, It sends a shock right through me, I can’t get enough’.

You - Present Day

You roll to a stop outside Mister Miller’s house for your second day of cleaning. As you look towards the impressive house your pussy flutters at the memories of yesterday - the almost pornographic noises that were made in that office, his soft and kind eyes as he apologized profusely in the kitchen. You were supposed to go to a study group last night, but instead you got lost in a rabbit hole of porn where women are tied up and fingered. You got yourself off four times thinking about a man you’re not even supposed to know, wishing it was his thick fingers hitting that spot inside of you that you can’t reach on your own. You felt guilty about it last night and now being back in his home you have that same sinking feeling again.

Stupid. Sacrificing my future for a fantasy. Never again.

You let yourself in the house and look at the list in your cleaning app. You pop in your AirPods and start listening to your favourite true crime podcast; thankful for the new episode, a gruesome distraction as you scrub baseboards and lightswitches. The episode ends and in an attempt to not let your mind wander to the gorgeous man that lives here, and the depraved new things you’ve discovered about yourself, you start an educational audiobook about civil rights law. You might want Joel Miller to strap you down and whisper filth in your ears, but you are a good person, and your aspiration in life is to help people who face discrimination on a daily basis.

You breeze around his home, checking off each task and before you know it it’s almost one in the afternoon. You have almost your whole list complete, his soft sheets are in the dryer (and yes, you are incredibly proud of yourself for only putting the luxurious white fabric to your face twice on the way to the washer). You only have the patio furniture to spray down and the kitchen counters to wipe. That’s when your stomach growls, almost as if to remind you that it’s the perfect time to take a break while the dryer finishes. You haul all your stuff out to your car and lock up, sitting in your front seat as you take out your lunch container.

An engine revs in the distance and your heart skips in your chest. Before you even have time to wonder if it’s Joel’s car, one of the black garage doors slides open and Joel’s obsidian coloured Aston Martin rolls by you, stopping with precision on the shiny cement floor of the garage. You avert your eyes, focused on your container of chicken noodle soup. The left side of your face feels the warmth of his gaze fixed on you. Without looking over you can tell he is studying you and it takes everything you have to keep your eyes on your measly lunch.

The afternoon sun is blocked as Joel raps his knuckles on your window. You glance over at him, looking up through your lashes. He’s looking at you intensely but you can’t quite place his expression. As always, his deep brown eyes are locked on yours, he could either be happy to see you or incredibly disappointed in you. But one thing is for sure, he’s calculating your every need with those warm and inviting eyes. He knocks again so you crank the handle to roll your window down a crack.

He raises one eyebrow at you, both hands rest on the roof of your SUV as he leans forward to speak to you through the small opening in the window. “Seriously?” His voice is laced with sarcasm.

“What?” You say, “Can’t be too safe.”

He blinks at you before continuing, “What'd ya doin’ out here?”

You lift your tupperware container a little, willing the tingles between your thighs to stop, “Eating my lunch.”

He rolls his eyes, running his hand along his greying scruff. “You’re eatin’ lukewarm soup in your car in the middle of February.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, but his voice is warm and curious, and you start to realize that the look on his face isn’t happiness or disappointment, but concern.

You nod, “Yes.” His eyes dance around your face and you swear your heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Fluttering so fast that it’s traveling up your throat and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it.

“Get out of the car. Come warm that up and eat inside.” His voice is thick with concern, entire face soft as he looks at you.

You swallow your heart back down to where it belongs, “I’m not allowed to do that, Mister Miller.”

His cheeks redden a little and some of the softness in him disappears, “Don’t call me that, it’s jus’ Joel to you.”

“I’m not even supposed to know your name, Mister Miller. I can’t call you by your first name.”

He shifts his weight onto one foot and points a thick finger at you through your window, “Don’t. Either you call me Joel or nothin’ at all. Come inside,” he drops his pointer finger to the door handle. He pulls on it to find it locked. “Seriously?”

“I told you, I can’t be too safe!” You can help but think how cute he looks all flustered - shaking his head at you for being cautious in a neighborhood where you could probably scream your credit card number and no one would use it. If anything, the wealthy homeowners on this street might transfer you money when they see the state of your vehicle.

“You’re eatin’ inside.” He says flatly.

“I told you, I can’t. We aren’t allowed to do that. You’re a client, Mist - I mean. Sorry, I just can’t. We aren’t allowed.” You glance towards the clock on your dash. At this rate your break is going to be over before you finish eating.

He jiggles the door handle again, as if he can convince the metal to bend and unlatch itself with just his sexiness alone. “You like rules, don’t ya?”

He’s got you there, you do enjoy following the rules. You nod and hum a noise in agreement.

“Unlock the door, please,” his voice has changed, he’s being more commanding now. A deeper, huskier sound leaving his lips. The sound seems to latch onto something deep in your mind, strong fingers wrapping around the control center of your brain, guiding you to do his bidding. You blink the feeling away.

“Mister-,” his eyes flash with darkness, “Sorry. I can’t. It wouldn’t be right to eat in your house, plus my break is almost over.”

Joel releases your door handle, raising his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and lets out a breath, as he drops his hand back to the top of your vehicle an amused smirk flashes across his face. “Do you consider yourself to work in customer service?”

“Yes,” you say nervously.

“And isn’t the main rule of customer service that the customer is always right?” His lips form a tight line and a deep dimple carves into one of his tanned cheeks. Your brain flashes back to one of the videos you watched last night, a man sucking on a woman's nipples as he rubbed her clit, her arms and legs strapped to a padded table. He had a dimple, but he had nothing on Joel.

“Yes,” you croak and then clear your throat gently, shifting in your seat at the fire building behind that bundle of nerves between your thighs.

“Then unlock the door, darlin’ and eat inside.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, turning and walking towards the house. He stops on the front step, opening the large glass front door. You follow, flip flops slapping on the concrete, carrying your powdered chicken noodle soup and plastic spoon up towards his fancy home. When you reach the threshold, he holds out his large hand palm up and you place the old, stained tupperware with your half eaten soup into it. He looks down at it and then back at you, eyes trailing along your body and it feels like he’s running a torch over you. “Is this all you have to eat?”

You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile.

He cocks his head towards the kitchen and one pushed back curl that’s laced with a few greys falls into his eyes with the movement. In order to stop from pushing his loose curl back you squeeze your fists gently and head towards the stool you sat on yesterday. As your flip flop hits the tile you stop and look back towards your car nervously. “I, umm, I forgot my shoes.”

His large, warm palm comes to your lower back and he pushes you gently towards the kitchen. You sit as he transfers your soup into a matte black bowl and places it in the microwave. He opens a cupboard and pulls out a loaf of fresh bread, as you go to protest he flicks his eyes up to yours and something about the expression on his face tells you not to argue with him. He pops the two carefully cut pieces into the toaster. He breezes effortlessly around the kitchen for someone so broad and masculine. You didn’t realize someone making toast could be so sexy. The microwave beeps and he grabs a gold spoon from a drawer before wandering around the island, placing them both in front of you. His arm brushes yours as he pulls away and your heart flutters at his touch. He walks back around the kitchen island and grabs a glass.

“Still or sparkling?” He says as if that’s just a normal question to ask when you get someone a glass of water. Just another thing that proves you don’t belong here. The toaster pops and you jump a little. He chuckles as he grabs the toast, slathering it with butter. “Still or sparkling, darlin’?”

You breath hitches, he’s called you darlin’ twice now. Is that just that southern charm you hear about so often, or is it more? You shake the thought from your head, there’s no way someone like him is interested in someone like you. “Still is fine, you don’t have to trouble yourself.”

You take a spoonful of soup, blowing on it gently before putting the spoon in your mouth. Joel is watching you in the same way he was yesterday. Assessing. Observing. Calculating. It feels like he’s looking into your very soul. He slides the plate of toast and then a glass of sparkling water over to you from across the island.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “You didn’t -”

He holds his hand up, stopping you in the same way he did yesterday. “I wanted to.”

You feel your cheeks redden and you have to look away as you take a bite of toast. He’s too handsome standing in the kitchen with the afternoon sun highlighting his features. He’s wearing a black dress shirt today, the top few buttons undone, accentuating the perfectly groomed salt and pepper hair on his chest. You swallow your bite of warm, salty, buttery toast, allowing your eyes to flutter closed at the delectable flavour, holding back a moan.

Joel clears his throat and crosses his arms across his broad chest, “So how did ya get into cleanin’ houses?”

You look up at him through your lashes. Why is he being so nice to you and taking care of you? He apologized yesterday. And after you told him it was fine he left you a massive tip. He said he wants to do this, but why? He’s rich and handsome and you can probably safely assume that that icy blonde from yesterday was his girlfriend. Unless…could she possibly be a mistress? You decide that that must be it. She’s his mistress. He has a wife. He’s just like every other rich man, cheating on his beautiful and age appropriate wife with someone much much younger than him. He’s probably terrified that you might find out who his wife is and tell her. That tip was hush money.

“I’m saving money,” you say and then shake your head, willing the thoughts in your mind to calm down. “For law school.”

“That right?” He says, raising an eyebrow at you as you take another spoonful of soup.

“Yes, I want to be a lawyer. I graduated a semester early and needed some money before going back to university. Assuming I even get accepted. This job meant I could work part time so I could study to take the LSAT again and also make good money.” You take another bite of the toast, mainly to make yourself shut up.

He watches you the entire time, nodding along, his eyes constantly assessing. “Take the LSAT again?” he asks.

“I passed it already and applied to schools but I haven’t heard back yet. Law school is pretty competitive, so I’m going to take it again and hopefully have a better mark for the next round of college applications.” You’re talking too much, you need to shut up and just eat, but Joel doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. No one has ever listened to you like that, not even your parents.

“Next round?” He asks curiously.

You feel your cheeks redden. You don’t want to admit to this obviously successful man in front of you that you probably won’t get accepted to any of the eight universities you applied to. “Yes. It’s competitive, and I probably won’t get in. So I’m preparing to be better the second time.”

“Where did you apply? If that’s not too forward of a question.”

“No, not too forward. Umm, a few places. Strength in numbers, I guess. Harvard, Yale, Columbia, Berkeley, Duke, University of Toronto, but I don’t think I’d survive a Canadian winter. I also applied at Notre Dame and University of Texas here in Austin.”

Joel laughs at you mentioning the Canadian winter and once you’re quiet, he looks down at his expensive dress shoes, “I, umm, I know some higher ups at UT Austin if you need me to put in a good word.”

You smile at him when he looks back up at you, “I don’t think that’s quite how it works, Joel. But thank you.”

The two of you are silent for a moment while you finish your first piece of toast. You glance up at him and he’s looking at you with that same hint of pride he had yesterday while you drank your water. He’s making you feel like eating toast is something to be proud of. You can’t explain it but his facial expression wraps around like a corset. Pulling its metaphoric laces and making you sit up taller, holding your head up higher. With just the shimmer in his deep brown eyes you feel like you could take on the world. You need to break the silence so you say, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he says, leaning back to rest on the countertop behind him. His arms uncross, his strong hands wrapping around the countertop on each side of his body.

“What do you do for a living? To have all this?” You gesture around the house as you sip your sparkling water.

“A few things. I used to own a construction company, sold it a few years ago to retire but I got bored pretty quickly. Now I own a few properties, I rent them out.” You nod as you listen to him, eating your lunch. One hand rubs at his patchy, salt and pepper beard nervously before saying, “I also own a club.”

You let out a little giggle into your water glass, immediately praying that he doesn’t think that was you being rude. Of all the professions that could have come out of his mouth, owning a nightclub was the last thing you expected. Joel smiles at the sweet melodic sound leaving your lips and relief washes over you. “Why’s that so funny?” His voice is light at his inquiry.

“It’s not,” you say after swallowing your water. He furrows his brows at you. “You just - I mean, I guess I don’t know you, but don’t seem like the nightclub type.”

“You’re right, you don’t know me. But you’re also right that I am not a nightclub type,” he states. Something about the way he says it makes you sense that that’s as far as you’re going to get with it, but you also realize that the club is probably how this man meets young women to bring home.

You put your spoon down and place your hands in your lap. “Can I umm, ask you something else?”

“Of course,” he repeats.

“What’s with that little dinosaur toy on your coffee maker?”

He smiles and reaches over to grab it, rubbing his thumb along the faded and scuffed brown paint of the little toy. He looks down at it and a hint of sadness seems to fill his coffee and amber eyes as he looks at you. “My daughter, she umm, she got it for me from the prize box in Kindergarten after her mom -” he stops mid sentence, sadness lining his features. Joel’s not married, you roll your eyes at yourself internally for thinking the worst of him. And truthfully, you of all people know he’s not married. You clean his house, you’ve been in his bedroom, and there are no women's clothes. You’ve also been in all the spare bedrooms and there’s no chance another person lives here with him. He continues, choosing his words almost carefully, “Well, just after she was gone.”

“I’m sorry, Mister,” his eyes flash onyx for just a second, he looks lethally sexy and you swallow your words before starting again. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“It was a long time ago,” he says, placing the dinosaur back. He runs his fingers through his salt and pepper curls, letting out a little sigh. There’s a shift in him, like suddenly the world is heavier. He tries not to let it show, and maybe most people wouldn’t notice, but you see it. The slight fall in his face, a little slump in the shoulders, a breath held for just a second too long. He clears his throat gently and says, “I’ll be in my office. Eat your lunch for me, please.”

Joel

Joel closes the door of his office and rests his forehead against the smooth wooden surface. He can’t remember how much he spent on these doors when he built the house, but he would set any door that separated him from you on fire if he had to.

Get it together, Joel.

He closes his eyes and only sees you. The way your glossy, pink lips formed a little O as you blew on your soup. The way the gold plated metal spoon slid softly along your tongue. His cock twitches in his pants and he feels the urge to throw all the spoons in his house away.

Great, you’re jealous of a spoon.

He shouldn’t be home. He signed a contract, and more importantly, you signed a contract. In order to protect him and you there is to be no contact between the cleaner and the client. That’s what you consented to when you took your job at Maid Discreetly, and now he’s caused you to break that contract not once, but twice. But he cannot seem to get you out of his mind, and as he sat in a meeting at his club he couldn’t focus. You were here, cleaning his home in that form fitting white polo shirt and those black pants that hugged at your hips in all the right places, and he just had to know if you were as beautiful as he remembered. Just a quick peek, he convinced himself as he made up some bullshit excuse to leave.

When he saw you sitting in your rusty SUV you looked so innocent and pure, you were more than beautiful. The afternoon sun lighting up your high cheekbones and slender, slightly upturned nose, it gave you an almost angelic glow that temporarily took his breath away. If he had to describe you in two words he would say that you were simply ravishing. For the first time in almost thirty years he wished he still had the calming comfort of that black felt cowboy hat. But that soft Stetson went with her because she loved it so much.

As he caught his breath and looked at you from his garage, he was overcome with an urge to bruise and corrupt you. He’s a bad man for the thoughts he's been having about you. He can’t help himself, but even in his most twisted of fantasies, he’d never do anything you didn’t want him to. But, fuck, he’s sure he could mold you into exactly what he wants in a submissive.

Joel isn’t new to the world of kink; he’s had many subs, all of whom have referred to him as Mister Miller. However, his name has never sounded so fucking sweet as it did coming off your lips. Those two little words leaving your pouty, pink lips feel like that first sip of whiskey after a long day, and it might kill him if he doesn’t make you his.

He sighs into the white wood of the door before standing and walking to sit behind his desk. He drops into the soft leather chair and lets his head fall back onto the headrest and closes his eyes. What is it about you? Why can’t he stop thinking about you? You’re way too young. Way too sweet. Way too…sinless. And even though he can’t explain it, and he knows you don’t know it, you’re way too “exactly-what-is-going-to-ruin-his-entire-life”.

You’re not someone he can just play with. No, he’s good at reading people, and you’re the kind of person that deserves being invested into. You’re also not someone who is going to stick around. You have dreams and well laid out plans on how you’re going to achieve them. He can’t cage you in, he’ll have to let you spread your wings and fly no matter how much he sees himself as the man he used to be reflected back in your eyes.

He opens his eyes and pictures you kneeling in the corner, perfectly manicured hands that he pays for you to have done weekly folded on your lap as he works. He imagines calling you over with a curl of his fingers, you crawling across the plush carpet and resting your head on his lap as he responds to emails, takes calls, or plans events. He could reach down and run his fingers through your soft, silky hair as you nuzzled deeper into his lap with your cheek. “My perfect, sweet girl,” he’d hum.

His body falls forward, forehead hitting the sturdy wooden desk with a thump. Jesus Christ, Joel.

It was one thing when he only found you beautiful - he could live with being attracted to you, he could find a way around it or stuff that attraction down, maybe he’d find a new sub to distract himself with. That would be easy for him, but then you had to open your mouth, you had to speak so passionately about your future. Why couldn’t you just be pretty like all the other women he plays with? You might be one of the most driven people he knows: the way you push yourself, already planning for the next “no”. And that kills him, ruins him really that you are programmed to think there will automatically be a “no” and that you’ll have to endure another round of LSAT’s and college applications. You’re smart, and he wants to kill whoever made you feel like you need to push yourself this hard.

His phone vibrates in his pocket; annoyance courses through his body until he sees his brother's name across the pristine screen of his newest iPhone Max.

“Ya?” He says harshly.

“Everything ok with the alarm?”

Joel’s mind goes blank, “What?”

Tommy is silent for a second before he responds slowly, “The alarm? You left in the middle of a meeting because of an alarm.”

Joel shakes his head. Right, the alarm. The bullshit excuse he made up so he could leave to see you. “Ya, right. Ya, it’s fine. Got it all, umm, all fixed up. Should be back soon.”

“You ok, brother?” Tommy asks suspiciously. “You seemed, I dunno, distracted today.”

“I’m fine,” Joel snaps.

“Alright. Well, come back soon, pretty big night here and we need ya.”

Joel hangs up without saying goodbye. He’s the owner, he knows it’s a big night, but he’s sort of busy having an existential crisis over possibly being in love with his house cleaner. Whoa, in love? Pump the fucking brakes. Joel’s heart stops beating for a second at the thought of it. He can’t possibly be in love; he doesn’t fall in love. No, he decides, it’s just because she’s new, and exactly my type, and it’s been a long time since I found someone that’s my type.

Just as he stands from his desk, he hears the hose outside turn on. You must be at the pool furniture part of your list. He takes this moment to sneak out of his own house, because he’s a weak man when it comes to you, apparently. He slips into the Italian leather front seat and lets the new car smell waft over him; he loves the smells of a new sports car and has never owned one long enough for it to stop smelling that way. It’s a matter of status to him. He takes a good hard look at himself in the rear view mirror. That’s enough now. For both of your sakes. Leave her alone.

You

After spraying down the pool furniture you rush inside to warm up. Seriously, who needs their pool stuff cleaned in the fucking winter? As you jog up the stairs to grab Joel’s freshly laundered sheets, you blow into your cupped palms. The warmth spreads from your frozen fingertips to your palms. Joel’s office is empty; he must have left while you were outside. Your brain swirls with unanswered questions as you pull the fitted sheet back onto his king size bed. Why would he come home? First of all, he knows you’re here this time and second of all, he knows he’s not supposed to be here. So why? And then there’s his calculating stare, always watching and usually with a flash of pride in his features. Did he come back here just to talk to you? Maybe even to get to know you?

It’s safe to say that you’re more confused than ever, and you make a mental schedule of studying and reading to keep you busy later tonight so you won’t spend hours trying to google him again.

It takes way too much effort, and a silent promise to yourself to get back to the gym, but you manage to wrestle the oversized duvet back into its cover just as three o’clock rolls around. You jog down the wide, open staircase and your phone bings in your back pocket. Jamie’s name is splayed across your cracked screen, the sunset from your last trip to California shining back at you.

What are you doing tonight? Want to make a bunch of money serving drinks topless?

You laugh to yourself. Truthfully, nothing Jamie asks you seems to surprise you, and some sort of odd job where you’re topless or in a sexy outfit is practically a guarantee as a condition of your friendship. As you reach for the black envelope on the kitchen island you text back.

What?

You barely have the thick parchment of the envelope open when she responds, like she already had the text locked and loaded and was just waiting for you to try to fight her on it.

Remember Laren? My cousin? She has a topless catering company and needs help tonight. It’s at some exclusive VIP poker game downtown. 4 hours, $300 + tips.

You respond as a thousand dollars falls out of the tip envelope.

I’m in.

Jamie picks you up a few hours later and parks her blacked out Range Rover in the alleyway behind a shiny black building in the heart of downtown. You’re once again surrounded by wealth and success thanks to Jamie. The dress code tonight is a black pencil skirt, black heels, your tits, and a bow tie that Laren will give you. Speaking of whom, Laren is holding open a staff door for you and Jamie with her hip, waving the two of you into the warmth of the building. She pulls you both into a big hug, “Thank fuck! You two saved my ass tonight. Gotta love having friends and family with great tits!”

“You’re so weird,” Jamie says, brushing past her and into the building. You follow her in before Laren ushers you towards a service elevator.

“They’ve already started, you’re part of the second shift. I think the first set of girls made about four hundred each in tips, helps if you serve the guys that are winning though. The first round of games is almost over, winners move on soon.”

“How were their tits though? As great as ours?” You joke. Underneath the calm and collected mask you’re wearing you are definitely nervous. All these strange men are going to see you half naked, you know nothing about poker or serving drinks. Your two friends laugh as the elevator opens to a small changing room. Girls from the first shift are putting their tops back on, handing the bow ties back to Laren who gives them to you and Jamie.

She cocks her head towards a swinging door, “Just through there when you’re done. Go to the bartender for a tray and table assignment. Two girls per table and only six seats so it should be pretty easy. Make sure you smile!”

“Yes, ma’am,” you and Jamie say teasingly as you strip off your tops and bras. She flips you the middle finger as she heads back out to the poker game to supervise. The cool air of the room stiffens your nipples, nerves fluttering behind your navel as you put the bow tie on.

You overhear the girls that are leaving talking about the men, “Did you see the one with the curly hair at the table by the bar?”, one says.

The other responds, “He was so fucking hot. Total daddy, I think he owns this place.”

A third pipes up with, “Fuck, I should have flirted more. I could use a sugar daddy.”

As they walk towards the elevator the first girl says, “Did you know that this is a sex club? Too bad we can’t go explore the rest.” They giggle as they leave and you take a steadying breath. You’re going to be topless, in a sex club.

“Ready?” Jamie asks, adjusting her bowtie around her slender neck.

“Did you know this is a sex club?”

She laughs, “Ya, it’s like an exclusive kink club apparently. Laren said it’s owned by two brothers who are insanely hot. Maybe I should see if they need a maid.” She winks at you as you both walk towards the swinging door.

You step into the dimly lit room and find the bar directly across from you. After rolling your shoulders back and down, you cross the dark hardwood floor to the bar. Everything in the room is black or deep forest green. Black paint covers the walls, your heels click against the sturdy black wooden floors, even the poker tables and chairs are black. A pop of deep green velvet only along the seats and table tops. It looks soft, like one of those fuzzy blankets you have on your couch and you fight the urge to run your hand across one of the empty tables as you pass.

The bartender hands Jamie a tray first and then quietly tells her to go to the table in the far right corner. She sways her hips like the sultry goddess she is as she walks to the table. Relief floods through you when you notice that none of the men have raised their eyes, they’re focused intently on the card game. This isn’t some sleazy club like you initially thought when you heard ‘sex club’ leave the lips of the other servers. You relax a little at being able to just be yourself tonight, maybe a bit more naked than you’d usually be but yourself nonetheless.

You take the black marble serving tray as the bartender points to the table closest to the bar. The curly hair man that the women were talking about in the change room faces away from you. Your heart leaps in your chest. Joel. As you approach the other server standing behind the table, he starts to turn his head. Time stops, your heart speeds up, and it starts to feel simultaneously too hot and too cold in the room all at the same time. It’s almost as if he’s turning his head in slow motion. As you catch his side profile he has the same hooked nose, in the dim light of the room you can’t see any greys along his temples and he doesn’t appear to have a beard. After what feels like an hour, his eyes finally meet yours and you let out a breath, although you aren’t sure if it’s disappointment or relief leaving your lungs. It’s not Joel Miller.

“Mind bringin’ me another Macallan neat, sweetheart?” His eyes stay locked on yours as he smiles at you sweetly. He holds the crystal glass out for you and you take it with a soft ‘yes, sir.’

Something about those eyes, and the way they flash darkly at being called sir, feels all too familiar. In the time it takes for you to take the six or seven steps to the bar you convince yourself that it’s just your brain seeing him everywhere. You tell yourself that when you bring this drink back he’ll look nothing like the man you caught knuckles deep in a woman as she cried out, nothing like the man who was so gentle and sweet, yet slightly bossy and commanding with you this afternoon.

That’s definitely it, you say to yourself with finality. You’re just cock drunk over a cock you’ll never have.

The bartender pops the whiskey open and the hair on the back of your neck stands up, you can feel someone looking at you. Almost feel their stare heating the right side of your body. It feels as if all of your exposed skin is being covered by the gaze of whomever is looking at you, shielding you protectively from the view of the other men. The bartender's eyes flick to the corner of the room and then back to you while he hands you the drink. The shift of his gaze confirms that you weren’t imagining it, there is someone looking at you. You place the whiskey on your tray and spin cautiously to the right, stopping dead in your tracks when you lock eyes with Joel Miller. He looks dangerous, sitting at a low table along the wall, his face just barely illuminated by a single candle on the dark wooden table top. His fingers are laced together, forearms of his black dress shirt resting on the knees of his black dress pants. His lips are pressed in a thin, disapproving line.

He stalks over to you and you wish your tray was empty so you could shield your tits from him. The way he moves is almost menacing, like a jaguar stalking his prey, his eyes are almost black in the low light of the room. Your nipples stiffen under his intense gaze, your mouth fills with saliva and you gulp loudly. You stand frozen, the whiskey for that man you had convinced yourself isn’t related to Joel forgotten about on your tray. He plucks the drink off the marble slab, the glass looking like one of those disposable paper cups you have in your bathroom in his hand. He takes two long strides and drops the glass beside the man.

“Thanks,” he starts to coo, a ten dollar bill clasped between two fingers. After realizing it’s not you, he adds a confused, “Brother?”

He tries to pull the money back, but Joel is quicker. Snatching it from his brother's grasp and tucking it into the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Joel turns back to you and steps in closely, your lower back hitting the cold marble bartop and you gasp, arching your back and naked breasts towards Joel. His jaw flexes as he fights to keep his eyes level with yours.

“What are you doin’ here?” he says in a harsh whisper.

“I’m working,” it comes out a lot more bratty and defiant than you intend it to.

“Not here you ain’t.”

You take a small step forward, your hard nipples lightly grazing the soft fabric of his black dress shirt. “I’m not leaving.”

His hand circles your bicep and you twist out of his grasp. “You’re makin’ a scene, darlin’.”

“You are, Joel. I’m just trying to make money.” He grabs you more firmly this time, not tight enough to hurt you but enough for you to know he means business.

What’s his problem anyway? He doesn’t own you. What you do outside his home is none of his business. He can boss you around via an app every other week, but that’s it. That’s where it ends. You glance desperately over at Jamie to find her back to you as she speaks softly with a man who’s waiting for the next round of poker. Her hand grazes his bicep flirtatiously, she makes it look too easy to get what she wants from men. Joel guides you towards the staff changing room, keeping your body in the dark edges of the room. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, like an angry dragon and you’re honestly surprised smoke isn’t billowing out of his nostrils.

In the bright lights of the changing room you feel more exposed than ever. You want to lift your tray, but in order to prove to him that you don’t care what he or anyone thinks you don’t. In fact, you stand up taller, holding your head high and pushing your chest out. It’s infinitesimal but he looks down just for a nano second. You smirk when his eyes come back to you.

“Put a shirt on.”

“If none of the other girls have to put a shirt on then neither do I.” You pop your hip out and pull your arm free from his large calloused hand and rest it on your hip.

“Don’t fight me on this.”

“I’m not fighting. You are. So all those other girls are fine, but I’m not? Why? My tits aren’t big enough for you?”

“That’s not,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath with his eyes closed. When he reopens them his eyes land softly on yours. “I just need you not to be here. Please.”

Bright red anger sparks along the sides of your eyes. Seriously, who does he think he is? “You aren’t the boss here, Mister Miller.”

“Do NOT call me that.” His neck flushes the same colour as your vision. You stand your ground, eyes narrowing into glaring slits. What is his aversion to being called Mister Miller, and why does it turn you on a little bit to rile him up when you use it?

“You aren’t my boss or my dad, Joel. You can’t make me leave or tell me what jobs I can or can’t take.” You’ve figuratively dug your heels in, you aren’t leaving. He can’t make you. Only Laren or whoever owns this sex club can ask that of you. “You can’t kick me out like you own the place.”

“Actually,” he says darkly, “I can.”

“What?” You say through a nervous breath, eyes widening.

“I own the place. So I can kick you out, and I am kicking you out. Get your shirt.”

Your shoulders fall slightly. You feel about two feet tall with the realization that he doesn’t want you here. This afternoon you thought that maybe he cared, he seemed like he cared, and now you’re half naked and he wants you to leave. He watches as you unclasp your bow tie and slide on your bra and shirt.

You look over at Jamie’s clothes and it dawns on you that you didn’t drive here. Your face falls as you blink around the room and then towards Joel.

“What’s wrong?” he says through thick concern.

“Nothing. I just…”

He steps towards you, he’s so broad, his presence so large that you start to feel almost claustrophobic when he’s this close, but you never want him to step away. You’d happily let him smother you with his innate Joel-ness. “You just what?”

“I didn’t drive here,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands. Your left thumb nail immediately finds purchase along the cuticle of your right thumb.

His strong palm cups your chin, lifting until he’s looking at you again. You’re becoming more and more used to the amount of eye contact Joel seems to make. He seems constantly dialed in on you when you’re in the same room.

Yes, I would be very happy to let him smother me.

The harsh lines of his face soften, “I can get you a car. They’ll meet you at the staff door.”

You nod into his hand and find it exceedingly hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you that way. He drops your chin and turns his large, broad body back towards the swinging door. He looks over his shoulder and says, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” His voice is soft and sad, almost as if he’s full of remorse and just hoping you won’t hate him before heading back into the poker game. Any bit of anger is flushed from your system, replaced with the disappointment of having to leave wherever Joel is.

You drag your feet to the elevator and then towards the staff exit. You let the heavy door close behind you with a loud bang as a blacked out SUV pulls up. The driver says your first and last name as he opens the back door for you. You look towards the black building one last time.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.”

JMKink is written in shiny metallic black on the door and all the information of the evening hits you at once. JMK. Joel Miller Kink. Joel Miller, insanely handsome millionaire, owns a sex club.

Follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on notifications for future chapters and other work.

781 notes · View notes

chaethewriter · 2 years

Text

You're dead to me [1]

Dad!Jake Sully x human!daughter!reader

In which Jake Sully leaves his life on earth to settle down with the Omatikaya people as Toruk Makto. Having a family that consists of four kids with Neytiri, everything seems to work out just fine, but what if the past comes back for him? And his babygirl is right there in front of him?

warning: english isn't my first language, angst, fluff, barely proofread, kinda rushed, prologue type of part.

Word count: 1,9k

next chapter

previous chapter

"Daddy daddy look what I made!" When Jake Sully entered the room, he was met with a pair of sparkling eyes staring directly at him, paper in hand as you jumped up and down in excitement. He closed the door with his hands before he moved them back to the wheels, rolling himself forward carefully as he had their dinner on his lap. When you headed towards him, your tiny feet stepping towards him in small baby steps, Jake Sully already knew he had to remove anything available on his lap for the tiny human that was about to jump in his arms. He quickly put the plastic bag to his side and opened his arms to welcome his adopted daughter in his arms. "Daddy daddy!!", your squeals filled the air as you pressed yourself against his body. Jake Sully had to steady his body for the huge amount of impact a tiny human like yours could give, but once he seated you comfortably on his lap, he couldn't help but lift you up to his face, his arms around her body to hug her close as she was kneeling on his lap. "Hi babygirl, did you make something for daddy?", he brought his lips towards your chubby cheek to blow a raspberry against your skin. Tons of giggles left your lips as you nodded your head to his question, "I drew daddy and me!" You held onto his shoulder to steady yourself with one hand before you brought the drawing in front of his face. Jake Sully had to squint his eyes to get used to the closeness, the little girl, that was you, basically pressing the drawing into his face. Another pair of giggles left your lips as you waited for his reply. He turned you around on his lap and you immediately took a seat, your short legs dangling against his. Jake took his time to analyze the drawing. It was incredibly messy, as expected of a six year old. A few scribbles in different colors. Something that is supposed to look like a rainbow? But in the middle, there he was. Jake sully himself. He was sitting on something that looked like a chair and his little girl was there, right on his lap. The drawing was very abstract, but it made his heart flutter nonetheless. "And you drew this all by yourself? You did this all by yourself?" One hand is held onto the drawing while the other was wrapped around your stomach.

"Yes daddy!! I love you daddy!!"

You, (Y/N) Sully, prior (Y/N) (L/N), were confused. Where did your daddy go? You were young, age 8 when he left you on earth. You didn't understand why. Didn't he love you? But he always made sure to remind you. Kisses, quality time, cuddling. He took you in when mommy and daddy died, so why is he suddenly leaving you? He told you it was for work, something important that would give the both of you a good life. Give you a good life. But you didn't care about anything of that. Being with your daddy already made you feel like you were living your best life. Painting with daddy, eating with daddy, cuddling with daddy. But he told you to be patient and that he would return to you soon. Yet, when was soon? You grew impatient, even though you yourself knew that it wasn't kind of you to be like that. He took you in when you were an orphan and took his time to care for you, even though he was paralyzed and having a hard time himself. You completed one another, because you both needed each other the most at the same time. So you tried you best to stay optimistic. Your daddy loves you, so surely he will come soon for you, right? But days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Then he missed your eleventh birthday. The neighbors Jake Sully was close with took care of you instead during the time. They were like your auntie and uncle, but they weren't your daddy. When two years passed, you decided to call it quits. He wasn't coming back for you. You were thirteen at that time, old enough to understand the reality of the world. A teenager without any goals is what you were, the light and will left your eyes the moment your daddy left you. You hated carrying his last name, yet couldn't bring yourself to change it back to your original surname.

The decision to keep your last name was the reason they found you. They, are a resistance group going against the destruction of Pandora. Pandora. The planet your daddy went to and never came back from. Like the reckless thirteen-year-old you were and not thinking about consequences at all in this terrible world, you went with these unknown, potentially dangerous, people to their underground base. There you were answered all the questions you had and wanted to ask. It was normal that you were curious about your dad, but tried to be nonchalant about it. Him leaving you wasn't a big deal, not at all. Why would that be a big deal? But you couldn't fool anyone with that type of behavior, as the liteaunant explained further than the questions you actually asked. Much more personal information. A daughter will always miss her dad after all. You learned that your father, Jake Sully, was still alive and one of the people. A painful way to know, from someone else, since it felt like your father indirectly slapped you in the face with an 'I don't care about you'. "Alive and well", were the words she told you. Alive and well your ass. When you were asked to join the program to protect Pandora, the indigenous and its nature from the greedy governments that tried to destroy it. The same governments that already have destroyed their own planet: ignoring global warming. Proceeding to pump gas from under the ground, bringing animals in danger, and destroying the nature humanity needs to even breathe. You couldn't lie, you wanted to decline. Saving the world and all sounded good and all, but you never wanted to do anything that even indirectly involved you so-called father. When money and status were involved, it started to sound interesting in your eyes. Ironic, the same way your dad left you. Like father like daughter, one could say. Yet, this was your chance to show everyone what you could turn out to be.

So, accepting is what you did. You soon started training, but it was no usual military training. You all learned about life on Pandora, you and the others that had potential in them learned to live like the people of Pandora: the bow and arrow, spears, but also hand-to-hand combat if anything were to go wrong. The training honestly went great, you didn't regret accepting the offer one bit. You felt fit and worthy, and most importantly you found people around you that cared for you. The liteaunant that guided you from the start was like a master to you. Not in an authority kind of way, but a respectful bond between two equals. You had friends that went through this entire process with you, telling each other about their lives and how they ended up here. While they were almost like warriors following orders, every night the group would sneak away to be like teenagers again, kids having fun and playing games. For a long time, it was the same routine. Wake up, eat, and train for almost the entire day, do homework, have dinner, sneak out, and sleep. You hated that homework so much, but knew that you needed to master everything you were given. It was to learn the language of the people, Na'vi. This felt like when you had to learn languages in high school, but ten times worse as you didn't even finish high school. "Oel nati kamy?", your voice sounded unsure as you tried to say the formal way of greeting someone in Na'vi, but you earned a slap against your forehead in return from one of your friends. "No, it's Oel Ngati Kameie, skxwang!"

Years of training together ended up being so worth it, because when all of you reached the end of your teenage years, it got announced that you were finally ready. You felt so delighted to know that all of your hard work paid off in the end. You knew everyone had a hard time trying their best to teach you the language of the people, so you were so thankful for everyone around you to get you where you are right now. Everyone worked so hard for it. As a parting gift, your liteaunant gifted you a katana. "It's to protect yourself, and always think of me", she joked to you, but the both of you could feel the heavy tension in the air. The grip on your katana tightened as you dropped your bag on the floor. You finally wrapped your arms around her, forgetting about the warrior exterior, that facade falling for just a moment. She didn't hesitate to hug you in return, "thank you for everything." You had whispered into her ear and pulled yourself together, being the first one to pull away from the hug. You knew that if you didn't let go now, you would second-guess jumping on your flight to Pandora. "Come on (y/n)!" Your friends already boarded and you were the last one left on the flat grounds. "Go on, child. You deserve this. And remember what I told you!" You don't reply, but only flash her a smile as you run after your friends with the katana and a bag. You all follow your superiors' suit, putting your stuff where they tell you to. With no seconds left to spare, they immediately tell you to follow them to your tubes, you were getting put into cryosleep. You still couldn't believe it. They were going to put you to sleep for six years and you're gonna wake up looking the same, but temporarily living in a dream world you trained your entire teen years for. You lay down in your tube, ready to get put to sleep. The nerves were truly getting to you. "See you on the other side!", you jokingly said to lift up the mood, and your friends started joking around, telling one another goodbyes and what they should do if one of them doesn't wake up. You just lay there quietly, waiting to get put to sleep as your mind starts wandering. You kept thinking about your leatiunant's words. She keeps telling you that you should make up with your dad or at least hear him out. You hoped you wouldn't run into him on Pandora, but he was Jake Sully. The Toruk Makto that went from being a sky demon to being one of the people. For sure you would get in contact with him. But as long as no one revealed your name, everything could be fine. He's dead to you after all. Surely, you were only there for the money and a good time, right?

Only time could tell.

A/N: my first time writing on tumblr so no idea how some stuff works. Had this type of idea for a dad Sully plot for a while and finally started it. Legit rushed through this to finish this asap cause backstory kinda lame. I'm a college student so give me some time until the next part. I need to release a novella for college so I'm double-writing a story— isn't smart of me but🤭

#jake sully x reader #jake sully #avatar #atwow #atwow x reader #dad! jake sully #dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family #sully family x reader #jake sully x human!reader #jake sully x human!daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #neteyam #neteyam x reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #neteyam x sister!reader

5K notes · View notes

esvvel · 3 days

Text

fifth year, second month and eleventh day How many times do you think they woke up like this and felt ashamed of their proximity until it became something ordinary?

#fivelila #fivela #the umbrella academy #tua #tua s4 #five x lila #lila pitts #five hargreeves

184 notes · View notes

bts-trans · 3 months

Text

📅 240615 Weverse Translations

RM's Post ❇️

오랜만입니다. 얼마 전 11주년이었는데 정신없다는 핑계로 짧은 글 하나도 못 남겼네요. 허허허 한 달 전에 컴백투미, 3주 전에 RPWP가 나왔죠. 작년 4월에 호석이와 함께 입대하려던 계획을 미루고 미루다 동생들과 손잡고 나란히 들어가게 되었죠. 23년은 그렇게 술과 작업으로만 보냈던 것 같아요. 친구의 병장 약장이 부럽지만.. 그래도 후회는 없답니다. (ㅎㅎ;) 제가 이런저런 소회를 직접 들려드리지 못한 첫 작업물이네요. 하고싶은 말들이 많지만 앨범에 모두 적혀있으므로.. 그저 오롯이 저 스스로 솔직하고자 발버둥친 앨범입니다. 오래오래 두고두고 읽어주시면 좋겠어요. 부디 3일 전에 진 형이 드디어 전역을 했죠. 저 재밌자고 색소폰도 가져와서 불었지만 실은 만감이 교차했습니다. 먼저 가서 많이 외롭고 힘들지 않았을까.. 어땠을까. 1년 6개월은 여기 누구에게나 공평하니까요. 저희는 지금 형의 과거를 살고 있는 중이겠지요. 오랜만에 나와보니 역시 바깥의 시간은 다르게 흐르는군요. 중력도 다르게 느껴지고.. 다들 내 부재와는 상관없이 잘 살아가고 있구나. 잘 흘러가고 있구나. 다소 헛헛한 기분도 들지만, 무엇보다 정말 오랜만에 멤버들이 모두 모여 한 잔 하며 허심탄회한 얘기들을 나눌 수 있어 좋았답니다(군대 얘기가 절반 이상이었지만..ㅋㅋ). 무려 근 열 달 만인 것 같아요. 왜이리 이 사람들이 보고싶었는지.. 저도 종종 전화해서 다짜고짜 안부나 묻곤 했었어요. 진 형이 늘 얘기하곤 했었어요. 멤버들 엄청 보고싶다고. 너희도 그럴 거라고. 뿔뿔이 흩어져 강원도 어딘가에 살아보니 사무치게 이해가 돼버려요. 막상 얼굴 보고 얘기하니 그래도 변하지 않는 것들, 내가 돌아와야 할 곳, 내가 어떤 사람이었는지도 다시 깨닫게 되고.. 우리 모두에게 의미있는 소중한 시간이었어요. 또 어디쯤 헤매고 있을까요? 내년 12주년에는 다들 어떤 얼굴을 하고 있을까요 그리워서 그리고 그려서 그리워요. 벌써 열 한 해입니다. 또 한 해를 손꼽는 일일 뿐이겠지요. 먼저 여러분의 품에 안긴, 안길 진 형과 홉이에게 뒷일을 부탁합니다. 아직 많은 분들이 저희를 잊지 않고 기다려주고 사랑해주신다는 것만 깨닫고 가요. 쏟아지는 사랑. 늘 그랬듯 그저 멤버들 여러분 생각하며 또 하루하루 잘 지내볼게요 사랑합니다. 고맙습니다 다음 초여름을 기약하며 남준

Hello, It’s been a while.

It was our 11th anniversary a while ago but, using the excuse that things have been really hectic, I wasn’t able to write even a small post. Hahaha

Come Back To Me came out a month ago, and 3 weeks ago, so did RPWP. Last year, after pushing and postponing my plans of enlisting with Hoseokie in April, I held hands with the younger members and we headed in together. And so 2023 went by, spent entirely with alcohol and work. I am jealous of my buddy’s sergeant patch but well.. I have no regrets. (hehe;)

I think this is the first time I’ve released something and not been able to talk about things directly with you. I have a lot to say but it’s all been written into the album so.. the album is purely the product of my fight with myself to become more honest. I hope that you keep reading it, over and over, for a long long time. It is a sincere, heartfelt wish.

Three days ago, Jin hyung was finally discharged. I brought along my saxophone and played it to be funny but honestly, I had a lot of complicated emotions running through me. Being the first to go was probably really lonely and difficult.. What was it like? That one year and six months treats everyone here equally. Now, we are probably living hyung’s past.

Out in the world for the first time in a while, I realised that time outside really does flow differently. Gravity feels different too.. everyone’s been living their lives regardless of my absence, doing well, flowing along nicely. I felt a little empty but, more than anything else, it felt great to get together with the members after a really long time and have a heart-to-heart over drinks (though more than half the conversation consisted of military stories.. haha). It had been nearly 10 whole months since we did something like this. Why did I miss these guys so much.. I did call them sometimes, randomly, asking them how they were doing.

Jin hyung did always tell us that he missed the other members a lot, that we were going to feel the same. Now scattered apart, living somewhere in Gangwondo, I understand it, it resonates so deeply. Actually talking face-to-face, I was reminded of the things that remain unchanging, the place that I have to return to, the person that I was.. it was a meaningful, precious time for all of us.

Where else will we be wandering? What expressions will we wear on our faces next year, on our twelfth anniversary? Missing you makes me picture you, and by picturing you I miss you more. We’re already in our eleventh year. All we have to do is just count one more. I entrust the future to Jin hyung and Hobi, who have been and will be the first to be embraced in your arms.

I’m taking back with me the realisation that there are still lots of people who haven’t forgotten about us, who are waiting for us. An outpouring of love. As always, I’ll try doing fine, day by day, thinking of you guys and the members

I love you. Thank you Until early summer next year, Namjoon

Trans cr; Aditi @ bts-trans © TAKE OUT WITH FULL CREDITS

#240615 #rm #namjoon #weverse #post #bts #bangtan #he's a poet #word wizard #그리워서 그리고 그려서 그리워요ㅠㅠ

299 notes · View notes

skrrts · 2 months

Text

baby blue & silly you (oneshot)

✧ afab!reader x choi san ✧ genre: non idol, slice of life, romance, pure fluff ✧ word count: 4k ✧ warnings: pregnancy, mention of being drunk

When San and you quit your jobs to embark on the road trip of your dreams, you didn't anticipate how quickly things would change. After just a few months, future plans suddenly become the present reality. With the realization that there will be three of you in less than seven months, San is now focused on fulfilling another of his wishes: marrying you before your first child is born.

a/n: after some delay, i finally put out another san oneshot. it's semi inspired by a couple i saw on youtube who lived in a van and traveled the states before they got pregnant & san's live the other day how he would gently ruffle his children's hair. there are no major warnings other than pregnancy but there are no medical details, but please be aware for your own comfort. thanks for reading 🫶

San had his arms curled around your waist, his face gently pressed against the side of your stomach while his hand was gently brushing over your belly, that smile which made his face shine so brightly would not go away. In your hands, you carefully turned around the sonogram picture you received from the hospital.

His fingers were drawing soft circles over your belly: “I’m sure it will be a girl. Not that I’d mind a boy! Both will be great but I just have a feeling.”

You couldn’t hold back the chuckle and lowered the photo: “Is that so? You know it’s far too early to say it, you will have to wait at least another two months for that.”

San looked up to you, gazes met as you reached out to mess with his messy hair. Ever since the two of you had come back from the hospital, you just relaxed in the van like that, your boyfriend insisting you needed to rest.

The very least outcome you expected to receive was to be told that your stomachache was not caused by the food at the restaurant you two ate at. After checking how poor the reviews were and several guests complaining about food poisoning, you meant to just be sure when the doctor happily told you that you were pregnant. San and you stared at him, asking many times if he was sure and it needed a bit of explaining that your reactions had nothing to do that this was an unwanted child, not at all.

It was simply around five years too early.

Everything between the two of you grew naturally, you took your time dating, to meet all of your friends and family before moving in after one year. San and you did not want to rush through life, instead took all the time and after college degrees, you decided on a dream together: a road trip along the coast, two years without any worries and to be able to do just that, the two of you worked hard, saved up and then sold all of your furniture. The intention was to think of where you’d like to settle down while you travel, then get a small place of your own, marry, and around the time of becoming thirty, have a little family of your own.

It took two people to manage to get pregnant and when you left the hospital to sit down in the van, there was no question just how the baby would arrive five years early. A few months ago, there was this large celebration at a beach you joined in, the ocean at night, fireworks, maybe a drink or two too many, and lots of passion.

Your road trip only started about half a year ago and it was both, too short and already too far from home. The shock and reality slowly faded into one and all you could do is try and relax because San shifted immediately. He insisted on driving, fluffed up the pillows of your bed, and now, was admiring a stomach that wasn’t telling about the life growing within just yet.

“I think, we should wait a little longer before we tell anyone. I know we are already at the eleventh week but you know. Ah, my mom will just freak out and tell us to get back right away.”

There was this part of you that did not want to leave this dream just yet, the doctors said you were healthy and as long as you went to your frequent checkups and looked out for your food, it should be fine to go on for another two months. Comfort was another question but that was your first child, you just would pray it would be thoughtful like it’s dad.

“Mhm, I agree. I know that they would support us but worry, also I kind of like it is our little secret just yet and we surprise them with a big photo. People on social media always do those cool things when they tell their parents they will be grandparents soon.”

San spoke and finally moved up to kiss you, his hand resting against his cheek: “You know how much I love you, Y/N? I know this is not how we imagined it to go but do not worry, I will take care of the both of you.”

You looked at him before chuckling: “Is that so? I feel like I have to look out for an overly excited to-be-dad now.”

You gave him a quick peck on his lips: “I do appreciate how you volunteer to look out for all of my pregnancy needs, mom had some really disgusting food cravings.”

You slowly sat up and San followed, stretching like a cat: “How handy we can bring you right there. Let’s get a few more pillows, yeah? Just so you are more comfortable, but Y/N...”

Suddenly his face turned serious and you turned around, looking at him. “Hm? What is it? What’s with that face`”

Your boyfriend sighed: “If you feel uncomfortable, let me know, any time! I know you feel like we have to push our trip for as long as we can and as much as I’m looking forward our kid gets to experience the world from the start, we can go back any time. You know my parents gladly let us use that little cabin on their property until we figured out where we go from there.”

You leaned over and gently tapped against his nose: “San, one of the reasons why I love you so much is because I know we can talk about anything. I promise you, it will not change, I’ll tell you. We do have some time left to figure out where we want to go. We should adjust our route a little, focus on what we really wanted to see and then, figure out all else.”

There was a gentle smile on his lips as he nodded and kissed you again: “Okay, let me get dinner ready then! Yes, you will get more rest, even if you tell me you aren’t sick. You were told to take it slow for the rest of the week, so let’s do that!”

Wooyoung made the strangest noises when he was excited and for a moment, San held his phone off his ear. It had been two weeks since you learned about the pregnancy and now it felt like a good time to start planning.

You agreed to wait telling your parents and San intended to keep it that way but there was something else, a surprise you could not know and for that, he was in need for some assistance.

San always intended to propose to you on this trip and then marry by the time you settled again, now he had less than six months for both because the day your child would come into this world, he wanted both of you to wear his name.

“Will I be the godfather? That word is super boring but I am ready to be the favorite uncle! I will babysit for free, like you two will surely want some free evenings and I can come over and look out for her.”

It was funny how he too just seemed to agree the idea of your child to be a girl was natural

“Sh, slow down! That’s not why I called you, idiot,” San laughed but he was happy how his best friend did not judge or ask what happened to their plans, simply embracing his natural excitement.

“Okay, okay, I am listening. What exactly do you want me to do?” San lurked over to the van, you were relaxing in one of the chairs you put up whenever you settled on a beach, browsing your phone.

This was supposed to be a surprise so he would work carefully and pray that Wooyoung would manage not to ramble about it by accident because he was too excited.

There was a moment when San considered asking Yeosang instead but thinking on how he was his girlfriend’s best friend, he'd feel too guilty to ask him to keep a secret from you.

“I am going to send you a few links, could you call them for me and see if they have a free appointment? I … want to ask Y/N to marry me soonand then, well. We have agreed we continue our trip for two more months and then, make our way home. Probably staying with my parents, anyway. I want the wedding to be amazing! Share it with the baby but also still comfortable for her. So I thought in about a month or two latest would be perfect.”

San spent days to find a location on your travel list that permitted the cliche and sappy beach weddings he loved to watch since he was little. The idea of seeing you walking through the sand in your favorite dress while the sun was setting over the ocean just made his heart melt.

There was a scribbling sound on the other side of the line, and San knew that whenever it mattered, he could count on his best friend, with no hesitation.

“Gotcha! I know you two have all of your papers on hand since you are the most thoughtful of the two of us. Then, we only need to figure out the date and payment, what’s the limit?”

San was glad that they just had a normal call and Wooyoung could not see his blushing face: “Ah, the budget… it’s a bit small. I always figured I’d have more time to add to my savings after our trip but I did prepare… just in case. I will uhm send it to you. It really is not too much but I know if the weather’s good and I will just prepare a few things myself, I looked at some tutorials, it’s doable.”

Wooyoung hissed: “Hell, you think your friends won’t gather some money for your wedding? You owe us a big cake when you get back here but count on it, I will give them a call and ask, making sure they know it’s a surprise. Don’t worry, I can sell it without the secret.”

San pushed his hair back: “You really are something, Woo… Thank you.”

He laughed on the other side of the line and ended the call. San slowly stood up and walked back to you, your eyes met him when he joined you, leaning down to kiss you gently.

“How’s Woo?” you asked and put your phone aside.

“Mh, I think we no longer have to worry about him to suddenly showing up here with his own van but I think, he will always be a little pouty about how we went on this trip without him.”

It had been an odd change, from seeing his best friend almost daily up to deciding to go on this trip with you but it was something San really wanted.

“Tch, he will forget about it by the time he learns he will be an uncle. I am almost afraid he will insist on moving in with us to babysit nonstop.”

San could not hold back his laugh when you said it and your cheeks colored a little red: “What? I am not wrong, you can’t deny it.”

He shook his head, leaning in: “If anything, I just was thinking how accurate it is, almost as if he told me just that. Guess our daughter will be happy, lots of people fighting over who can babysit her.”

Yeah, as much as you playfully rolled your eyes again, San was convinced that it would be a little girl, with her mother’s temper and maybe his silly smile. He couldn’t wait to meet her.

As you stepped outside of the van, the scene surprised you a little. San was still busy placing down two piles of buckets and differently shaped sand molds, next to small shovels. When he saw you, he smiled and walked over, lifting you for a moment to place a kiss on your lips.

“Good morning most beautiful woman in the world and my daughter,” he rubbed a hand over your belly which was finally starting to show signs of a progressing pregnancy.

“You sneaked out early, I woke up to breakfast but without my man,” you playfully complained and he winked: “That was because I had to prepare this.” San effortlessly carried you over and gently placed you down in the sand.

“I know we wanted to participate in this silly couple sand castle contest but as it seems we will not get the chance to do this, we just have to challenge one another. The store in town had all that we needed and I figured, we would have use for those anyway,” he pointed at everything.

This really was something only San would remember, when you read the article about it and joked it could be fun, it was just a short moment when waiting for the rain to stop but here he was, making sure you always felt appreciated, your wishes remembered.

“I hope you know I am an expert in the field? I was the number one babysitter in my neighborhood, I have first-class experience in setting up sandcastles,” you teased and San laughed as he settled down too.

“I will give my best then. I would say the winner gets to destroy the other’s, that seems fair and Wooyoung and I spent hours building ours just to tear it down at the end when we were young.”

Of course, they would do this, it was cute to imagine the two best friends all small and then laughing at each other to ruin their own hard work and effort.

“Sounds like a fair deal, I accept your challenge, should I set a timer?” You suggested and San nodded. Thirty minutes seemed like a good amount of time and you could not deny, it was a good idea to do it so early in the morning. Now that Summer was at its peak, it was not so easy anymore for you to spend all day outside, the heat was often just a little too much.

The competition was not something important to you but once challenged, you always gave it your all and before you knew it, you were rather invested in the whole act. You started with the main part of the castle before adding little towers and a small water jump around it, with windows to look through and you even found a stick flying around next to you for a flage replacement.

When the timer was up, you could hear San laugh, and your cheeks blushed when you realized just how much effort you put into the details whereas San’s was not ugly but a little simpler.

“Ah, what to do about it, I feel we do not even have to figure out who the winner is between the two of us,” your boyfriend looked rather proud as he stood up and pulled out his phone.

One of the things the two of you did a lot was taking photos. This trip was meant to be an important memory of your life and you wanted to have many pictures you would be able to show to friends and family but now also, the idea to later show your child how it was born in such an import phase of your lives.

You stuck out your tongue and made a heart when San took a photo of you with your little sand castle.

“A true queen, pretty but cruel, considering she’s about to tear down my kingdom,” he laughed and leaned in to kiss you but there was a small yelp as you simply pulled him down to you, lips meeting properly as you sighed into it, your arm curled around his neck.

“It’s okay because he’s also the queen’s to be consort and he will always have a home with her,” you whispered, ignoring how sappy this was.

San always enjoyed confirmations, he was almost like a cat receiving gentle head scratches as you ruffled his hair and looked fondly at him.

“How about we destroy the castle together?” you offered but he shook his head: “You won this duel truthfully and the to-be consort is honored it’s his queen that tears it down:”

For a moment, you wondered why he was smiling so knowingly but you chuckled and nodded: “Alright then, I shall be gentle.”

You carefully moved over to the castle and gave it a look, kids would love to build castles with San, he was good at doing things while still paying perfect attention to others.

You felt guilty to tear down his hard work and when you made it to his little tower, you stopped when something caught your eye. There was a small hole in the tower and a blue little pouch lurked out. Your fingers gently pulled it out and your curiosity was stronger than looking at him first.

There was a small paper roll held together by a silver band, your heart was beating loudly as you carefully pulled the ring off, looking at it and noticing how there was a very small but delicate stone set into it. Very likely, San must have prepared this before you left because it was a perfect fit, you knew without trying it on because your gaze wandered over the word.

‘Let’s build a sand castle together. One to stay in together forever, watch our children grow and be in even when we are old and crinkly. Marry me exactly today in two months?’

Tch, who made a proposal with a date already set?

Tears were flowing easily now, your emotions really were all over the place but when San was right by your side, laughing but with a hint of worry.

“Hey, why are you crying my love?” he hugged you and you just hissed and laughed at the same time.

“You are so silly, proposing to me like that.” Your reaction seemed to ease his worries and he smiled: “Just needed to make sure it’s something memorable.”

It truly was, you finally got yourself together but allowed for him to gentle brush your tears from your cheeks.

“Then you better hurry and put on that ring yourself,” you whispered. San looked at you, most fondly, full of love.

“I gladly will do that,” he whispered, kissing your forehead, before looking at your hand, the ring perfectly slipped on your ring finger and he lifted it, kissing it just as gently.

“I promise, I’ll forever look out for you, Y/N. No matter where we go and life carries us, I’m by your side.”

Your gazes met and you pushed yourself up a little, your hands resting on both of his cheeks before you kissed him deeply.

“So will I,” you whispered, the ocean water gently playing with the rocks in the sea, quiet witnesses to your love confessions.

“If I didn’t know it better, I’d say you are nervous,” Wooyoung grinned and San tried to rub the red off his cheek. Was he nervous? Of course! How often did you marry the perfect person and mother of your first child?

Time flew by and before hew knew it, the two months were over. You two made the most out of it and there were little regrets. Now, tickets were booked to fly back to your city in two days, so his wife-to-be could settle down comfortably and enjoy the last part of pregnancy without worry . You found a service that agreed to take the van back to the city for a fee together with new cars.

Yeosang and Wooyoung didn’t share their plans on coming here, they just showed up yesterday and now, San was thankful for, having two best men for the ceremony, it would make this memory even more meaningful.

“Am I? Well, my best friend planned half of my wedding, how good I trust him completely,” San joked and grinned when Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

“Well, you look great. Let’s go then, we do not want the bride to arrive before the groom.”

He wore a loose suit jacket with comfortable white pants and matching shoes, something that matched well with the beach, his hair undone since he knew you loved it more naturally. San fixed it a last time before exhaling, nodding to his best friend to indicate he was ready or well, he hoped he was.

Thanks to the budget Wooyoung collected, San was also able to prepare a very small private dinner, your best friends to join for a little before it would only be the two of you. The set up at the beach was simple, with the sunset drawing close, there were lamps lightened up and a simple table with flower. San already talked everything through with the woman who held the wedding ceremony and the papers were signed beforehand.

“Are you ready Mister Choi,” she asked with a smile and he nodded. Wooyoung gave him a small pat on the shoulder, grinning but he also seemed somewhat excited. San was playing with his fingers as the three waited and then there you were.

Since it was only your two best friends, Yeosang was taking the role of your father, holding your arm comfortably. It really was quite the TV wedding with that floaty white dress, your belly now very visible with your child growing well and healthy. Instead of a bouquet, you decided you’d rather have a loose flower crown.

You chuckled and San was just smiling like a fool as he watched you barefoot walking down the beach and he fixed his posture a little to stand proud and tall. When you arrived, Yeosang winked at San before letting go and stepping at your side, San reaching out to take your hand.

The ceremony was short because you did not feel as if you needed big words, instead, San was all lost looking at you, the way your eyes shined brightly, the wind playing with your loose hair, and that smile he fell for back in the day he ran into you at the bakery.

When the question of all questions was asked, San freed one of his hands, placing it on your belly and he looked at the woman, nodding:

“Yes.”

The second ring was slipped right on the same finger, you insisted you wanted to wear both. The rings were simple but that was okay, neither of you needed anything fancy. It suited you.

His hand was a little shaky when you put the ring on his finger and before anything could be said, you pulled him closer and into a kiss.

Wooyoung was whistling when Yeosang just laughed and clapped his hand.

“Are you happy now, Mister Choi?” you teased, whispering and he looked at you, kissing your forehead. “Very much, Miss Choi. Now, hold on.”

Your arms curled around his neck and he lifted you up again, still no sign of struggle as he carried you over to the small table set up, your best friends followed, chatting a little.

For San, it was just you and him right now, the sound of the sea and the wind being guests to remember this day together with the both of you.

“Time for the cake then,” Yeosang kept it inside of the car in a cooling box to keep it fresh. It was small but pretty. You designed it and San could tell so because it looked like a little sand castle and a king and queen sitting on top.

“Now the most important part, who will be the leading hand in this marriage,” Wooyoung joked with a grin and San loved how you never lacked confidence.

“Is that even a question?” San would lay the world to your feet as much as he could but the two of you were equally stubborn.

“I will take photos,” Wooyoung called out and moved over, preparing the camera, Yeosang stood next to him.

“Ready?” you asked, the grin a little too mischievously. If he did not know it better, he would say you were up to something but then, it was hard to tell just what it was.

His hand gently placed on yours and he gave you a gentle nod: “Let’s do this.”

The cake was small but firm, as you two carefully cut out a slice. You handed him a plate and San carefully placed it on a plate, picking up a fork. It was the moment he intended take a bit to offer it to you that his mind started to work.

The filling of the cake was pink. It was the very opposite color to baby blue and he felt silly that it literally took him so long to get it.

He proposed to you with a little sand castle and he thought this simply was why it looked like it but this was you revealing something to him.

There was proof of how Wooyoung’s minds proved to work the same.

The screaming sound of the two best friends happened at about the same moment when Yeosang and you laughed.

“I TOLD YOU IT’S A GIRL!”

#san x reader #san x you #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #san oneshot #ateez au #ateez writing #sn tag #fluff tag #romance tag #reis writes #ateez fic #ateez imagines #choi san x reader #ateez fluff #san fluff

198 notes · View notes

jpnriikicore · 1 year

Text

── public eye

paring colby brock x fem!musician!reader, word count 958, genre fluff, authors note ngl this is my fav piece i've did, ( masterlist )

fireworks burst in the sky lighting up the entire night sky, as you and your members are rushed backstage.

"hi, baby!" you rush towards colby, as you enter the dressing room. he picks you up from the ground engulfing you in a tight hug. you kiss his cheek as he places you back onto the ground again.

"here you go." sam said, handing you a bouquet of yellow roses.

"thanks, sammy!" you pull sam into a quick hug.

you haven’t seen colby nor sam in two months since they went to their trip to japan and you went on tour with your band.

"alright, sorry to break this reunion, but we have to go right now." maría, your band manger said.

you held hands as you walk into the hotel as multiple paparazzis cameras flash taking pictures of you. even some yelling questions towards you.

"y/n, what project are you working on next?"

"an album." you flash him a smile. tightening your grip on colby’s hand to make sure you don’t lose him within the crowd.

"can you tell us what is the album about?"

"a dedication towards someone special in my life." you replied quickly as you walk through the doors of the expensive hotel.

this action of holding hands wasn’t unusual between you two, so nobody would suspect anything. you’ve been friends with sam and colby since they started vine. you was the one to film their vines and youtube videos. occasionally starring in one of their vines or videos. according to the media you’ve been strictly friends since forever.

you got into the elevator pushing the eleventh floor going up to the presidential suite. "I’m sorry, baby." you apologized, as you leaned against him looking up at him. you stood on your tippy toes reaching to give me a quick kiss. you know at times all of the paparazzi could get too much. hell, you’ve had one too many anxiety attacks because of it. lucky one of your members or your beloved, colby, was there to help you. you’ve even helped colby through some when he has them out in public. normally he keeps his head down and stays as close as possible to you when the paparazzi gets too much for him.

"it’s alright." he pulled you in closer engulfing you in a tight hug. he pressed a kiss on the top of your head.

you exit the elevator and into the suite with his arm around your shoulder and your arms wrapped around his waist. you noticed your members joking around in in the kitchen, as you quietly sneak over to your room.

"did you have fun in japan?" you asked even though you already knew the answer. he sent you videos and pictures of places he visited. he even stay up just a bit longer than normal just to talk to you about his trip. you slipped on a pair of his sweat pants and an xplr hoodie.

"it was good, but i missed you." he replied, settling in the freshly washed sheets of the bed.

"i missed you too, baby." you said, turning off the lights of the bathroom crawling into bed settling between his legs.

"do you think it’s a good idea coming out to yours fans?" you asked, leaning your head back onto his shoulder.

"it’s going to fine, baby." he kissed the top of your head.

it was your idea in the first place to finally go public with your relationship after dating for three years and being married for three years already. with the recent news of you founding our that you was pregnant you thought now would be the time.

all though when you purposed the idea he shut down the idea completely wanting to protect you and the unborn baby, but you convinced him to do so. using the fact that once the baby comes fans were going to find out anyways. it was better to hear it from him than figuring it out by another source.

"stay for five minutes longer!" he whined, shuffling in the sheets holding onto your wrist, after his miserable attempt to keep you stay put in the hotel room with him. he let go of your wrist grabbing the pillow next to him shoving his face into the plushand groaned into the cotton material.

"babe, i can’t you’ve already made me late and maría is starting to hate you because of it." you said, slipping on your leather jacket. the leather jacket you’ve been waiting to wear since you got married. a leather jacket decorated with a bunch of pins in the front and your married surname spray painted in white on the back. you lean down and move the pillow away from his face to quickly kiss his lips.

once finally escaping clingy colby you made your way to the hotel lobby out to the valet where your bands van was. you slid open the van door slipping into the seat you always seat in.

"sorry, i was late it’s-"

"because of colby." your members said in sync causing you to chuckle. it’s been a recurring theme even since you started dating colby. that he would make you incredibly late most times because you would spend most of your time with him and forget about time making you late for important events.

you scrolled through twitter seeing all the tweets from fans going utterly crazy over the new update of your relationship. you noticed a new notification from colbs.

colbs <3

i miss you 🖤

#colby brock #colby brock x y/n #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock imagines #colby brock x you #colby brock fanfic #colby brock imagine #colby brock fan fiction #colby brock x reader #sam and colby #xplr

1K notes · View notes

majorlysapphic · 28 days

Text

It's mind splurge time once again... :)

Dearest reader, today I am presenting a charminghearts soulmate AU with a (generous) sprinkle of violence. :))

(Taking inspiration from Sabrina Carpenter's new song/mv 'Taste'. @uhhhh-em-draws-stuff since you wanted to see something like this, please consider this AU as a gift/thank you for your wonderful art in the community :)) ).

TW: violence and murder.

Now, without further ado, onto the story idea!

Auradon is a land of fairy tales and idyllic love stories, so it's no shock that soulmates are a well-known and incredibly common aspect of life. So much so that it's considered taboo to not have a soulmate (especially among royal families).

Now, you may be asking: "how do people know if they have a soulmate or not?".

Well, first I'd like to establish that in this AU, some people don't have their destiny-appointed soulmate from birth. The experience of having a soulmate is varied, and sometimes fate takes a little time deciding who your other half is (especially since once your souls are 'linked', it's set in stone for the rest of time). How someone can discern whether they have a soulmate is through the notion of mark-sharing; whenever your soulmate is physically injured, your body bares the same marks left behind on their body (typically in a colour that best represents your other half). The stronger the bond between your souls, the more obvious and long-lasting these marks are.

Now, let's get onto Red and Chloe's lives prior to the start of the main story!

Throughout her entire life, Chloe has been raised on stories about her ancestors finding their 'true loves'. The Charming family bloodline are known for very strong bonds and picture-perfect soulmates, almost acting as the blueprint example throughout all of Auradon's history about how intense a soul-bond can get. So, it's logical to conclude that Chloe can't wait for the day she finally finds her soulmate.

Frustratingly, for the first ten years of her life. Chloe bares no soul marks, however on her eleventh birthday, she's ecstatic to find a bright red soul mark had appeared on her right knee. And whilst she feels bad that her soulmate must have tripped and scraped their own knee, Chloe is elated to know that her soulmate is out there in the world. She spends the rest of her birthday showing off her soul mark to everyone in the castle, and bells are rung out in Cinderellasburg in announcement and celebration that their young princess has reached this renowned milestone of life.

And when the soul mark fades, Chloe's sad to see it go of course. But she doesn't get to miss it long before more start blooming up, and after a month of knowing she has a soulmate, she's sure she's bonded to the clumsiest person in all the kingdoms. And you'd think this inkling of information would help her find her soulmate faster, but it doesn't. So once again, Chloe becomes a frustrated hopeless romantic, documenting every new mark and it's corresponding date and praying to her fairy godmothers she'll find her other half sooner than later.

And at seventeen, she does. At least that's what Chloe thinks.

I'd like to imagine that there are a lot of celebrations going on when the anniversary of the formation of Auradon arrives, so every year a different kingdom hosts other royal families for two weeks of celebrations/peace talks/gifting. So when Chloe was seventeen, it was Cinderellasburg's turn to host. There she meets Zellie, the crown princess of Corona, and Chloe falls hard. The pair get along right off the bat, and there's a spark of hope in Chloe's heart that this is it, especially given the other princesses clumsy nature. But it would be abrupt and extremely against royal decorum for Chloe to investigate whether Zellie is her soulmate or not, so she forces herself to remain patient and see where the future takes them.

Based off of those two weeks of celebration, they start writing letters and visiting each other, and soon enough, Chloe and Zellie are dating. One month into the relationship, Chloe thinks she's never been more happy, her love for Zellie isn't as "all consuming" as her parents described what it's like to be with a soulmate, but Chloe doesn't mind a quiet love. But, she doesn't want to freak the other girl out too early on, so she plans to broach the topic of being each others soulmates when they reach the four month mark of their relationship (though that doesn't stop her from dropping some not so subtle hints about her suspicion every now and then). Unfortunately for Chloe, she never does get to ask, because a week before their four month anniversary, Zellie breaks up with her.

Chloe's heart broken to put it lightly. She doesn't get where this came from, and soon enough she's wallowing in self pity once the communication between her and Zellie becomes more and more infrequent. But after all of this, it doesn't stop her resolve. So like the hopeless romantic she is (unwilling to give up on a girl who surely is her soulmate), she's planning on trying to win Zellie back on the anniversary celebration of Auradon's founding, now being hosted in the Kingdom of Corona.

It should be noted that Chloe will sort of meet Red at Corona's hosting celebration. But before I go into what I mean by 'sort of', it's time to give Red's life some context.

Wonderland citizens are just as likely to have soulmates as those who live in Auradon (who they aren't cut off from in this AU, but their borders are incredibly strict), but it's a topic that's kept behind closed doors given their reigning queens hatred of anything to do with the subject. Growing up, Red knew of the concept of soulmates, but she wasn't too fussed about the idea - so after ten years of her life with no soul marks, she concluded she didn't have a soulmate and moved on without a care. After all, she was much busier occupying her time by trying to prove herself as a worthy crown princess to her mother.

At first, this meant Red had remained studious and proper at all times, but eventually her exceeding academics and royal etiquette were no longer subject to adoration and instead expected as a bare minimum. Frustrated and still seeking her mothers approval as a young kid, Red takes up the habit of somewhat spying on whatever's going within her castles walls. This is where she'll start to realise how much violence and deceit is involved in ruling Wonderland (this is where she finds out that being sentenced to a beheading is the kindest her mother could ever be in judgement). But who is she to question things when all her life her mother has been presented as the ideal standard for what a queen should be?

From this moment on, something clicks into Red's head (perhaps even a bit too easily/quickly, but after growing up surrounded by violence, a girl tends to grow a bit desensitised to it all). She can be a picture perfect princess, but what her kingdom (and her mother) truly needs is someone willing to get their hands dirty for them. And a bit after she turns eleven, Red's able to prove it.

The first time she kills a man, she didn't exactly plan it.

All she knew that there was a young diplomat, perhaps only a few years older than her, who posed a threat to Wonderlands trades (ego, her mothers power). She remembers her mothers angry shouts from behind the doors of a meeting room when meeting with him. She remembers seeing him storm out of the room. She remembers seeing her mother whisper into a trusted guards ear before they rush off to the kitchens. She remembers realising that the diplomat would be dead by dinner time...

It's a slight morbid curiosity that gets Red moving. A growing want to see a soon to be dead man. To try recognise his faults and pinpoint why he deserved to be sentenced to death. So, she sneaks into the wing of the castle made up for visitors, locates his room and enters. There she sees him, looking out from the balcony, lost in his own stressed thoughts given his rigid stance.

Want to know a fun fact? Wonderland doesn't care much for safety standards, much preferring aesthetics.

So, when Red slowly creeps closer, listening in on this diplomats worried mutters, she feels a certain urge. A swift motion would be enough to prove herself. Just one powerful shove could change everything about how she's perceived. There'd be glory, praise, and responsibility. But of course, Red hesitates. This is a big decision, and the more she dwells on it the more troubled she becomes. But soon her decision time is up, and this diplomat is turning around, surprised to see the young princess standing behind him with a far away stare.

She's been caught lurking. Red panics, and the next thing she knows she's launched herself forward. Red's fall lands her on the edge of the balcony, scraping her knee pretty badly (it takes a few more seconds for Red to hear the diplomats fall end on the ground below).

The palace guards find her frozen there an hour later, replaying the events in her mind. Her mother is soon alerted and comes round, she looks to Red and then peeks over the balcony. She knows what's happened now and Red can never take this back. Though once she sees her mother looking down at her for the first time with a gleefully proud smile, Red's concerns seem to wash away.

From that moment on, Red was not only seen as the heir to the crown, but also as a powerful attribute towards Wonderland's power. Her mother was quick to place her in extra classes and training sessions (for more under the table political schemes), and whilst it may have been a harsh learning curve, Red's never felt so alive. Though it should be noted that because of her training sessions, Red tends to get a lot of injuries. It's a regular aspect of her life now, so she doesn't give the bruises and scars too much thought. But this also means that when her soulmarks start appearing in various shades of blue, they blend in well enough to be perceived as bruises.

For the next few years of her life, Red is given 'political tasks' within Wonderland. And the more justified havoc and death she spreads, the better Red becomes. Much to her mothers dismay, this means Red also starts getting restless on her missions, making her restless. And so after a simple recon task ends up with a manor in flames, the queen is left with a decision: take back the freedom she's given Red, or find a way to let the girl explore her true potential and carry on serving her.

The latter option is chosen, and on Red's sixteenth birthday she's presented with an enchanted, golden locket in the shape of a stopwatch. This object is the key to greater, more inconspicuous missions, as once Red places the golden chain around her neck she's disguised from anyone tracing back this version of herself to her true self (I'm imagining in reality, Red's appearance will just switch to Kylie Cantrall's real life look and the extra magic allows the anonymity enchantment to work).

From then on, Red is sent out to Auradon to do more of her mothers dirty work, and during her time there she burns down various historical sights and takes out a few important politicians. It isn't until she turns eighteen is when she's given her biggest and most risky mission yet: assassinating the crown princess of Corona, Zellie. She doesn't ask for the reason why, she just accepts.

This is a delicate mission, and Red figures the best way to get closer to her goal is to hide in plain sight. Slipping on her locket, Red enters the kingdom of Corona masquerading as a viscounts daughter from a faraway kingdom, simply travelling and making memories. Eventually, she meets Zellie at a boring ball and she get's to work charming the unsuspecting princess. It's back and forth flirting, and Red is getting closer and closer to her goal. Soon enough, Red's got the other girl completely enamoured especially after a moment of vulnerability where Zellie tearfully admits to not having a soulmate. Red doesn't see the big deal, but she plays the part of empathic 'friend', and when she tells Zellie that she doesn't have a soulmate either, she sees a flicker of hope in the other princesses eyes. Red pity's her for it, but she's not dwelling on what she feels when she's so so close to finishing her job. She just needs one moment without guards stationed out the door and a clear exit route.

That moment doesn't come immediately as she's called back to Wonderland on 'urgent news' regarding inner kingdom conflicts. But she's quick to assure her mother that she'll have the job done soon enough, since once Zellie found out Red had to leave, she personally invites her, with lovesick eyes, as her guest of honour to Corona's celebration of Auradon's formation.

Red accepts the invitation and returns to Corona two months later for the festivities, with a collection of hidden weapons and her trusty enchanted locket. And that's where she meets Chloe for the first time, after all, its hard not to notice the girl glaring daggers at her as she enters the first ball of the celebrations on Zellie's arm.

During nearly all the events going forward, Chloe is seething with jealousy. She's so sure that Zellie is her soulmate, how could she stay calm when there's another girl by her side? And whilst the two say they're only friends, it doesn't take a genius to work out there's something else there. But, so long as they're still considering each other as friends, Chloe's still able to try win Zellie back.

Though that doesn't sit well with Red. Soon enough, both girls are competing against each other.

They both are trying to dance with Zellie at a ball? They try spoil each others attempts and somehow end up getting partnered with each other for the rest of the dance (and despite the fact that Red can move with the agility of a cat, she all of a sudden can't stop 'accidently' roughly stepping on Chloe's feet during all the dances).

Both of them are trying to sit next to Zellie at an opera? Somehow both end up getting seated in a private booth and end up quietly arguing for the entire performance.

They carry on fighting and thwarting each other. It feels electrifying to be at each others throats like this. Chloe can't seem to get enough of her dynamic with Red, so much so that she starts getting excited to see the other girl. And soon enough, Chloe realises that when she's gripping a champagne glass and gritting her teeth as she watches Red and Zellie dance across the ballroom, her eyes are following Red instead of who she came to Corona for. Thus, leading to the realisation that what she had with Zellie may have been an overexcited puppy love, and despite the fact she doesn't actually know who her soulmate is, she doesn't care all that much when her focus is centred on Red.

During Chloe's new revelations, Red is slowly going insane as her assassination attempts keep getting prevented.

Her plan to waltz Zellie under a falling chandelier? Annoyingly intricate to set up and unsuccessful. Her plan to give Zellie a poisoned flute of champagne at the opera? Knocked over by Chloe in a rush to get to Zellie's side. Her plan to push Zellie off a balcony? Stopped when Chloe steps out with them.

(Red refuses to admit this is the most fun she's had in her whole life).

Red knows Chloe is doing this on purpose, and she starts panicking on whether Chloe's somehow seen past her lockets enchantments and knows the reason why she's here. So, the simple solution? Red has to kill Chloe.

At an ornate masquerade ball, Red finds a way to lure Chloe into an empty servants passage. She's intent on a little interrogation prior to anything, but Red soon forgets about the sharpened blade strapped to her thigh when her back meets the wall and Chloe's lips are on hers.

Okay. That didn't go according to plan. The worst part of it all? Red doesn't seem to mind Chloe's lips on hers. In fact, she rather likes it given the way her heart skips a beat and how she tangles her hands in Chloe's hair.

And by the end of their tryst, Chloe's feels as if she's walking on clouds (she got the girl after all) whilst Red is internally panicking, having never felt so fucked in her life.

The next few days go by in a blur, Red should be focusing on Zellie, but she always seems to gravitate towards Chloe. Soon enough, Red acknowledges that she's going to have to cut her plans short and get her job done by the end of tonight before Chloe messes up her judgement even more.

So in another mind numbing ball, she asks Zellie to meet her in her room once the main dances are finished. Zellie agrees (blissfully unaware and thinking this is the moment she'll get to confess to red and/or vice versa). Once Zellie slips out of the ballroom, Red follows thirty minutes later.

But of course, there's one person in the room Red can't escape the attention from. And who's to blame Chloe for following her? They've been flirting and more, but haven't talked about what exactly they are. She better take this opportunity to talk to the other girl.

Going through the castle's hallways, she searches for Red. And she finds her, though she wasn't expecting to find the other girl in such a state. Because Red's in her ornate ballgown with a dagger clutched in her grip, absolutely drenched in blood. The blood of Chloe's first love (and friend), who is collapsed on the floor and very much not alive anymore after one vicious swipe against her neck.

They're frozen, staring at each other. And then everything happens in a blur and they're fighting. Chloe lands a good few hits in attempt to restrain Red, but her swordsmanship classes don't amount to the same skill Red has gotten from experiencing real fights. Next thing the girls know, Chloe's pinned to the ground and Red's got a dagger digging into her throat.

Chloe's staring up at Red with a multitude of emotions. Sadness. Grief. Anger. Disbelief. It's a rollercoaster of emotions that's expected, though what's got Chloe in absolute heartache is seeing a clean, blue soul mark line appear on Red's throat, perfectly mirroring the cutting edge of the blade Red has on her.

They stare at each other. The wait is agonising, why on earth can't Red take the final blow? She doesn't know, and she's losing time for her escape. So as the clocks chime to signal midnight, Red uses the hilt of her blade to knock Chloe out.

She rushes to change out of her ballgown into a set of clothes that will make fleeing the scene and climbing walls much easier. But she's panicked on her miscalculation with her timing, so once Red all but flings herself out of the rooms window, she doesn't seem to notice that her locket's chain has snapped and fallen to the ground.

It's a small while later that Chloe wakes back up into her sickening reality, realising it wasn't all a sick dream after all. With an aching head, she stumbles into the hallway to go ring an emergency bell. Castle guards will be where she is soon enough, and despite the fact she should stand still and rest, she re-enters the room.

Shivering, she notices how Red didn't even attempt to hide Zellie's body. In fact, this entire crime scene is a chaotic mess, the murder weapon abandoned in the middle of the room. Going towards the only open window, Chloe notices a locket on the ground. The very same locket that she had noticed Red always wearing during the short time she knew her.

Fate is the most cruel thing Chloe's ever dealt with, she decides then. She didn't expect to relive her parents experience (albeit, hers is a lot darker), let alone be in her fathers role, but here she is with her soulmate fleeing the scene after midnight, leaving behind only a blood speckled locket as a reminder of her existence.

Hours later, when Chloe's being interviewed after being treated for her injuries. She doesn't mention the locket, even when the lie makes it feel as if the lockets burning a hole in her pocket. She knows she's being selfish, but this locket is hers to do with as she wishes. So with a determined heart, Chloe ignores the pitying looks of everyone around her as the months pass and the tale of the gruesome murder of Corona's heir is shared.

She's busy trying to find a way to track down Red with this small piece of jewellery. And when she finds her, she's not sure what she'll do. Whether she wants revenge or something else. All she knows is her old self with a head full of fairy tales is fading, and she's willing to do anything to get her hands on the other girl.

A year passes.

Red has long since been banned from going back to Auradon after her mother found out about her various mistakes (though she made sure not to mention Chloe). She can't say she's too mad about it, the situation rattled her more than she expected (especially when she returns home, to find a thin blue soulmark across her neck. She's not an idiot. She knows who it's linked to. She doesn't say anything to anyone about it).

So, she sinks back into her oldest routines as crown princess. But one day she comes into her mothers study to find out that Wonderland is entering some form of political alliance with Cinderellasburg.

Two weeks later she's sat by the dining table of the Charming's castle, refusing to make eye contact with anyone or even contribute to the discussion. During the same dinner, Chloe hasn't taken her eyes off of Red once, unable to shake the feeling that she knows her from somewhere.

Red can only hope that she can stay as far away from Chloe as possible during the alliance (given that once it's established, regular communication and travel between Wonderland and Cinderellasburg will begin).

Chloe's starting to think that she should try find a way to get to know the crown princess of Hearts. Perhaps she'll enlighten Chloe about Wonderland's magic (the very same magic Chloe has figured out is weaved into the locket she carries in her pocket everywhere).

#descendants: the rise of red #glassheart #charminghearts #chloe x red #red x chloe #chloe charming #redcharming #MajorlySapphic'sConcepts

161 notes · View notes