#and i still need to get like a desk and stuff

[nadvs]

escapism .* part one

pairing rafe cameron x socialite! female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you live a turbulent life in the public eye as an unruly heiress from a controlling family. you thought you had your future all planned out, until you learn that your trust fund hinges on marrying a stranger.

tags arranged marriage au. canon divergence. reader is bratty and volatile. rafe is the calmer one for once (but not by much). they hate each other at first. six-year age gap. plot contains alcohol abuse, toxic family dynamics, chronic illness, trauma bonding, mentions of death, and smut that starts off as hate-sex oops!

» masterlist

author’s note i typically make reader inserts vague for relatability, but this is the most detailed one i’ve written. she’s misunderstood, guarded, and has a short fuse. she has trauma from childhood neglect and lives with a chronic illness, resulting in poor coping mechanisms and a desire to feel free. i enjoyed exploring a fmc like this and i hope you enjoy the read just as much <3

Rafe sits in the backseat, fingers grazing the edge of his jaw. The wrought-iron gate creaks open to reveal a long, manicured drive that curves out of sight, the estate lingering beyond the bend.

His loyalty to his father knows no limits. It’s why he agreed to go along with this ridiculous publicity stunt.

Yesterday, Ward told him about the unusual proposal one of his business partners made. Kal is the powerful patriarch of a high-profile family and apparently, now that his wife is entering politics, his family’s reputation has never been more important.

The only thing standing in their way to a respectable image is their daughter.

Rafe thumbed through every tabloid he could find last night. The headlines followed the same formula, all about a spoiled, wild socialite, the epitome of old money royalty, getting wasted at parties, dating around, and never backing down from any sort of altercation.

Kal had promised that with his corporate influence, this arrangement would give Cameron Development an edge it’s never had before.

And Rafe is determined to pull it off. He wants to make his dad proud. He’s been working for him for a few years now, eager to prove himself and move up the ranks.

This is an unorthodox way to do it, but he’ll take what he can get. And he might even like you. You seem like you have some charm to you to say the least, even if it is centered in chaos.

The driver pulls up to the front doors of your family’s home right on time for the meeting. When a butler welcomes Rafe into the foyer, every footstep and shuffle of clothes echoes through the manor’s enormous, gleaming frame.

The butler rushes away to fetch Kal. Rafe stuffs his hands in his pockets and takes in the vacuous, characterless space. His eyes land on a thick-framed image hanging between two rounded staircases.

He squints, sizing up the five figures. It’s not a photo, but a painting of the family that calls this place home.

He studies it from afar, already having committed your face to memory from all the research he did on his phone last night, eyes travelling over the brushstrokes of an older couple, two men, and his future wife.

Wife.

This is insane.

“Great to meet you,” Kal’s voice booms through the foyer. He crosses the room, offering a tight handshake.

Rafe follows him to his office. He expected you to be here, but the only other person in the brightly lit room is an older woman typing on a laptop. Kal introduces her as Celeste, the family’s publicist.

The door shuts and Kal settles in his place behind his desk, tearing right into business before Rafe even takes his seat.

“I know this is unconventional,” he says, “but Nora is announcing her intention to run for public office in two days, and it’ll be a rigorous campaign.”

Celeste nods with widened eyes, gaze still glued on her screen.

“I’m sure your father has told you that we need all the good press we can get,” he continues. “I don’t know how familiar you are with my daughter, but she isn’t the representation we want for our family.”

He clasps his hands together.

“And before we bring her in, there is something I need you to do.”

Rafe waits, tense.

“She’s unpredictable and secretive. It leads to bad surprises and even worse press,” he says. “I need to know her plans, her activities, absolutely everything you can find out. Can you keep me informed without her knowing?”

Rafe imagines his father’s expectant stare, the one he’s sure he’ll be wearing when he asks him how this meeting went. The familiar ache to impress him radiates through him, a desire he’s shouldered all his life.

He still remembers the look on Ward's face when he told him about his plans to go back to college, long after he’d dropped out as a freshman. It was the first time he seemed convinced that his son was turning his life around, that earning a solid education wasn't just another stint Rafe would give up on.

With enough time and effort, finally, Rafe had a shred of his father's approval. He graduated and was back on track to take over Cameron Development. The job had practically been lined up for him since birth and he'd nearly squandered it through his rocky adolescence, a trainwreck in response to losing his mother.

He refuses to fuck anything else up. He crawled his way out of the hole he’d once been in and he has no intention of falling back into it. He won’t stop for anything.

“I can do that,” he agrees.

Kal nods, then presses a call button on his desk, instructing the butler to bring you in. As the air fills with silence, the suspicion that you haven’t even been told about the arrangement yet gnaws at Rafe.

“Does she know about any of this?” he asks, a slightly disbelieving chuckle spilling from his lips.

“She’s about to,” your father says.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

Your eyes follow the words in your textbook as you type on your laptop, music softly buzzing from your speakers. The house is always so quiet, forcing you to listen to your own thoughts.

You need the noise. Any distraction.

You’re in your last few months of working towards a master’s degree in business, taking advantage of the schooling you have access to, all in an effort to prove yourself and be set up for success for when you can finally leave this place in the rearview.

Most of your life has been a waiting game, and you’re in the homestretch to getting your trust fund. All you need to do is make it to your next birthday. You can’t survive without that money. Your medical expenses are too high.

The dream of walking out the front door and never stepping foot in this house again consumes you. You long to be your own person, away from the gossip rags, free from your family’s restrictions.

You’re not proud that you don’t have the self-restraint to quietly wait out your time. You’re driven by anger, by the pull of escapism, constantly getting out of control with your drinking.

But it's too addictive and the spiteful side of you enjoys knowing you’re a PR nightmare, publicly embarrassing the people who gave you your last name.

A month ago, as a result of your mother’s sudden interest in politics, you’ve been put under harsh restrictions to avoid any and every risk of unfavorable press. You were ordered to give back your credit card and live at home instead of on campus, with no access to transportation unless a driver has been appointed to take you somewhere.

You’ve still found ways to rebel, sneaking out to see friends, partying to numb your pain. Your parents try to keep you under control because they care about public perception. About notoriety. Not you.

You learned long ago that you’re just a thorn in the family’s side.

Knuckles tap on your bedroom door. You stand and swing it open to meet Mathieu’s tired eyes.

“You’re needed in your father’s office, miss,” the butler says.

“You know my name, Mathieu,” you say with a gentle smile. “I can’t. I’m in the middle of an assignment.”

“He said your attendance is required, miss.”

He winces, correcting himself for calling you that again, saying your name instead. You’ve seen your father’s staff on edge all your life. He runs a tight ship, and it’s one you’ve wanted to jump off of for a long time.

Because of that, you have a soft spot for the people who work in your home. At least they’re nice to you. Even though it’s their job to be.

You agree, simply because you don’t want Mathieu to have to deal with the collateral damage of your father being told no.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

Three heads turn towards you when you enter the office.

You meet your father’s eyes immediately, clenching your fists at your sides because, like always, being in the same room as him triggers an onslaught of anger through you.

“What is it?” you say curtly.

“Have a seat,” Kal says, his voice clipped.

“I’m busy,” you answer.

“Sit.”

Rafe’s gaze follows you as you cross the room and settle in the chair next to him. There’s a sudden heat in his chest, a frustration in how he can’t pull his eyes off of you.

The photos he saw online, the painting in the foyer, they do you no justice. You’re stunning, radiating confidence, moving like you expect the world to get out of the way for you.

Maybe liking you won’t take much pretending after all.

“You know Celeste,” your father says.

You return her pointed frown. You didn’t mind her at first, but then, she realized she could get away with ridiculing you, safe from any of your family members coming to your defence.

Once she knew that her job was secure, she’s passively jeered at you many times, calling your antics fodder for the rags, calling you shameful and childish.

“And this is Rafe.”

Your eyes flitter towards the stranger. You’re in awe of how near impossible it is not to melt under his gaze, his eyes piercing, every plane of his face strong and refined.

You didn’t know what you were expecting coming in here, but it wasn’t him, staring like he’s waiting for you to do something.

“Hi,” you say stiffly, then look at your father. “What do you want?”

“You’ve been an embarrassment,” Kal says.

You remain perfectly still, no stranger to your father scolding you no matter who’s in the room.

“You’re kidding,” you say, your tone flat and sardonic. “What is it this time?”

Rafe gathered that you’re difficult, and he’s no saint himself, having had many disputes with his own dad, but he always had the sense to argue behind closed doors. He didn’t expect you to be so bratty from the get-go, so openly abrasive towards someone you’re supposed to respect.

“We can’t have you causing any trouble,” he says. You sigh, feeling Rafe’s gaze on you. He must be the latest bodyguard your father’s hiring, yet another man you’ll drive to quit his job. “I refuse to let my wife’s campaign be ruined.”

“Wait, so, if she loses, it’s my fault?” you breathe a laugh.

Your mother’s step into politics is just another line on the list of her meaningless ventures. It reeks of boredom masked as ambition; a move made only because she can afford the luxury of trying everything once.

“I’ve had the conditions to your inheritance amended,” Kal says.

Rafe watches your smugness fade away, your brows pinch together.

“What?” you say. The cockiness you wore has slipped, nothing but unease in your features now, as if the existence of your trust fund was the only thing granting you any sense of poise. “What do you mean?”

“You’re tarnishing our reputation,” he says. “I’m not allowing you to continue to drag our name through the mud. Your brothers have set good examples. It’s time you do the same. If you don’t, your inheritance is void.”

“No,” you say. “The terms are that I get access to it when I turn 25. You can’t just change that.”

“Yes, I can,” Kal says. “The new conditions–”

“This is all because Mom decided she wants her name on people’s lawns?” you interrupt with a humorless laugh, straightening in your seat. “You’re insane.”

Rafe catches on that you call her your mom, while your father refers to her as his wife.

“It’s important to her,” Kal says evenly.

“Sure,” you say in a huff. “Whatever. Fine. I’ll be good.”

Rafe would laugh if this wasn’t so awkward. He wants to get the hell out of here. It’s bullshit that this isn’t already all settled. But when he thinks about his dad, who’d told him how important his cooperation in this is, he doesn’t budge.

“You think I can believe you?” Kal asks. “You need to convince the public you’ve grown up. Represent us well for once. You won’t have access to your trust unless you get married.”

“Married?” you echo.

Kal’s eyes dart to Rafe.

“Rafe has already agreed to pose as your husband.”

“What?!” you half-shout, glaring at Rafe. “Are you serious?”

Your father sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Either have your tantrum and lose your trust,” he mutters, “or agree. Everything’s already in place.”

“We have appearances scheduled and an engagement announcement and a wedding in the works,” Celeste pipes up. “All you have to do is show up. And behave.”

Dread sinks into you slowly, wretchedly. Everything’s already in place. And you’re just the pawn expected to go along with this.

Your heartbeat thumps in your ears, any safety you felt when you entered this room erased. Your trust fund is your ticket out of here. Now, that ticket is being torn to shreds right in front of you.

“How long would I have to go along with this?” you say, blinking.

“Until the end of the election cycle,” he says.

“About six months,” Celeste clarifies. “And we can’t risk faking it. Marriage licenses are public records. It’d take one diligent reporter to blow everything. It will be real. And quietly annulled afterwards, of course.”

Half a year of pretending you’re fond of the stranger sitting next to you, of acting like you’ve suddenly been tamed because you fell in love, with your trust fund hanging in the balance. This has to be a bad dream, a nightmare you’re having up in your bedroom.

“Why a marriage?” you breathe.

“Cameron Development is a distinguished company,” Kal says. “They’re respected by our community, and our families publicly joining will benefit their bottom line and our reputation.”

“A wedding is a great photo op,” Celeste adds. “And an opportunity to invite everyone with influence. It’ll help with polling, too.”

You stare down at your lap. This is unhinged. Your hunger for an upper hand, for some kind of rebuttal, twists in your core. You refuse to just stomach this.

You do have some power here. You know how bad it’ll make your father look if you outright defy him and leave everyone in the lurch. He cares about his reputation way too much.

This is how all your communication with your parents goes. It’s a battle. A struggle for control.

“I have terms,” you say, an imperceptible tremble in your voice.

“This isn’t a negotiation,” your father responds.

“Actually, it is,” you say, staring at him. “If you don’t level with me, I’ll leak things to the press that would never redeem this family. I’ll do so much damage that you can never fix it.”

Rafe is floored by your viciousness, by the way you have no loyalty to the people who raised you. Now he can see why your father had to go to such extreme measures.

“Your inheritance will be gone,” Kal states.

“And Mom will lose,” you threaten. “And we’ll all be left with nothing.”

Your father’s silence is enough for you to know he’s backed into a corner, waiting to hear your demands.

“I can move out immediately,” you state. “I get my credit card and my car back. And the second this is over, I get full access to my trust fund.”

You lean forward, your rage deafening. You reach for the quiet thread of strength buried deep inside you, grasping it the way you always have, even as a child.

“I’ll follow the rules,” you say. “I’ll go to every event, pretend I want to be there, and stay out of trouble. I’ll go along with this only if you agree.”

Kal sucks his teeth, frustrated, but left with no choice but to comply.

“Fine. You’ll do everything Celeste says, do you understand?”

“And you can’t tell a soul,” Celeste explains to you. “One leak could ruin everything.”

She pulls out two stapled stacks of paper, neatly placing them on the desk in front of you and Rafe. The words at the top are heavy and bolded: Confidential Marital Agreement.

Another chill floods your system. You’re being controlled in yet another way, jammed under your parents’ thumbs, all while everyone else is acting like this is completely normal.

“You need to convince everyone that this is real,” Celeste emphasizes. “The public has to believe that you’ve grown up and had a complete change of heart.”

“Yeah, I got it,” you mutter.

You look at Rafe again, this time with nothing but disgust. You regret having thought anything good about the man who’s helping your father humiliate you like this.

“But don’t expect me to be civil about it in private,” you say to Rafe, rising from your seat, swiping the contract in a tight grip. “You’re an asshole for doing this.”

You storm out, itching to punch something.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

You sit in the front study of your home as the smooth, plastic clamp squeezes your forefinger. Iris notes the numbers on the small monitor.

You know the order of the tests, how each one feels, how the fifteen-minute appointment is bookended by the worst part. It’s a cycle you go through with your nurse every month.

After a string of respiratory infections as a child, you were diagnosed with a chronic lung disease. Your treatment plan calls for frequent check-ups, aggressive medication, and an inhaler on you at all times.

It’s apparently genetic, and why your lungs won’t work right while your two older brothers breathe easy in every way is a constant, twisted reminder of your place in your family.

All you know is the feeling of limitation, of being near suffocation. In every possible way.

“Time for the worst part,” Iris says. You pull up your sleeve, giving her access to the inside of your elbow.

She sanitizes your skin and you make a fist, staring out the window into your family’s enormous, manicured backyard, a sliver of the sea visible behind the trees lining the back of the estate.

The prick of the needle makes you wince, and she apologizes, and you tell her it’s not her fault, just like every other time. You usually make conversation with her, but you’ve been in a daze since the ambush in your father’s office this morning.

“How’s Milo?” you finally ask.

“Good,” she says proudly. “He made the basketball team.”

You can only imagine the excitement her fourteen-year-old must have felt.

You wish you were a better person, that you could just be happy for others, but your chest pinches in jealousy. You fear your envy will always remain a wound, a flaw in your character you can’t rid yourself of.

And you know how out of touch it is to be jealous when you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, but there are some things money can’t buy, like a parent’s love, like the freedom to play a sport without worrying your lungs will give out, and the emptiness rooted in your soul is proof of that.

“That’s amazing,” you tell her. “Can I get him anything?”

“Absolutely not,” she quips, gently pulling out the needle. “You’ve spoiled him enough.”

You smirk. Your track record for spoiling her son started the day she became your nurse over five years ago. There’s satisfaction in spending money this way - not for show, but for joy, for the quiet delight of a little boy and his mother who never ask for anything.

“How are you, sweetheart?” She puts a cap on the tube, putting away the blood sample and shutting her case. “You’re quiet today.”

You look away and think of Rafe’s heavy gaze, of the edges of his face, of how you didn’t even hear him speak.

It’s absurd that you’re expected to pretend he’s someone you fell into a whirlwind romance with, a man whose voice you don’t even know, a man who conspired with your father to degrade you, to rip away your free will.

You’ll have to deceive everyone, even the people you care about. And it makes you feel rotten.

“I’m fine,” you lie.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

Rafe likes to think that he’s improved over the years. He’s not as helpless against his own temper, not giving into impulse every opportunity he gets, not as reckless as he was when he was younger.

He’s better. Not perfect, but better. Yet when you called him an asshole yesterday, it’s the closest he’s come to snapping in a long time.

You’re beautiful, but you’re a nightmare.

He didn’t think it would be like this. Yesterday caught him off guard. It left him speechless, and nothing leaves him speechless, but the weight of what’s at stake hit hard. One wrong move, and everything, his career, his future, could start to crack.

He didn’t know you’d be threatened into this arrangement. But putting your trust fund on the line was obviously necessary if you’re this unwilling to stay out of trouble.

He’s not looking forward to dealing with you.

You enter one of the spare offices in your home, the scowl on your face hard as you settle at the desk next to Rafe, across from Celeste.

“Hello,” Celeste says. “How are you?”

“Don’t pretend like you care,” you murmur. You’ve been dreading this meeting since you were told about it just last night. “Just get on with it.”

Celeste’s brows inch up in irritation, but her shrug tells you that you’re right. She slides two pages across the desk, housing identical color-coded calendars.

“This is how everything will play out,” she explains. “You’ll pretend to meet for the very first time at the investor gala on Thursday night, where Nora will announce that she’s running for office. You’ll be seated next to each other.”

It’s been so long since you were last seen with your family that you can’t even picture it. Back when skipping out wasn’t an option, you were dragged along to countless events, ordered to pretend like everything behind the scenes wasn’t fraying at the edges.

It makes your stomach turn, thinking of sitting with your parents and older brothers, subject to their vitriol.

“And then, you two will fall so in love,” she says, the sarcasm in her tone thick, “that you’re constantly spotted together. You’ll get engaged two months in, and have a beautiful, quaint summer wedding three months later.”

“God,” you sigh in frustration, sick just thinking about what a stupid farce this is going to be. You hate that you have no say, that you’ve always been smothered by what other people want, that you’re just a puppet on a string.

“You’ll need to look the part,” Celeste says flatly, her eyes darting between you and Rafe. “Right now, you two couldn’t look more miserable.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t appreciate being called an asshole,” Rafe mutters, his gaze catching yours.

You scoff as his deep voice reverberates through you. It’s more cutting than you anticipated: cold, precise, aimed to dominate.

“I don’t appreciate you being an asshole,” you reply, your features strained in anger.

“I thought you knew the plan,” he says. “I came here yesterday thinking you were ready to do this.”

You still for a moment, the hatred you have for him almost dulling. Almost.

“You just assumed that?” you ask, eyes narrowed.

His hesitant glare makes it clear that he did.

“If you knew my dad, you’d know he’d never give a shit about who’s ready when he wants something done,” you scoff. “You should take the time to see who you’re working with instead of blindly kissing ass.”

The stab at his ambition, his pride, makes his blood boil.

“You don’t know shit about–”

“Please,” Celeste interjects, her palms up. “Can’t you be adults about this?”

“Can’t you admit that this is idiotic?” you say to her. “All for what? Good press?”

“You’ve made it clear that you don’t care about how you represent your family,” she says evenly. “But your actions affect them. And they affect the business that gives you the amazing life you live.”

“Amazing,” you echo with a snarl. “Give me a fucking break.”

Rafe grits his teeth. The tabloids are right. You’re nothing but an ungrateful princess, and you’re damn near unbearable to be around.

“Classy,” Celeste mumbles under her breath, handing you a small manilla envelope. “Let’s just get through this. Your credit card. You’ll notice the limit’s much lower than before.”

You sigh, taking it from her. She pulls out two envelopes next.

“And here are the keys to your condo,” she explains. “It’s confidential that you’re living together. Keep it that way. We’ll make it look like you moved in after the engagement.”

“What?” you snap. “What’s the point of us living together right away, then? When I said I wanted to move out, I didn’t mean with him.”

Celeste’s eyes flash to Rafe, the promise he made to Kal an unspoken secret between them. You can’t know Rafe has been tasked with keeping an eye on you.

“I just relay your father’s decisions,” she says. “You know that.”

You sneer. Of course he finds a way to only partially meet your demands, while ensuring your misery. You can’t believe you considered doing this. Nothing will be on your terms, not entirely. It’s how it’s always been.

“It’s a sizable penthouse,” she says. “You practically have your own wings. All you share is a kitchen.”

“And it’s not like I’ll be there much,” Rafe mutters. “Some of us work.”

This earns a snort from Celeste and a murderous look from you. He can usually keep this type of disdain in, especially in what’s technically a business meeting, but it’s like you undo all the work he did on himself.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket before you can ream him out. You check who’s calling, tilting the screen towards you, but Rafe sneaks a look at the contact name to see Family Law at the tailend.

“I have to take this,” you say, rushing out of the room.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

When you come back into the office, you’re even angrier than you were when you left.

Your lawyer just confirmed over the phone that your father’s amendments were entirely fair, that he had failsafes set up in case he needed to make changes to the conditions of your inheritance.

You settle next to Rafe, listening to Celeste continue to drone on about how you’re expected to present yourselves as a couple in the public eye.

Every bit of you aches. You hate that you’ll have to pretend you’re fine being around your family, when all they do is hurt you.

You hate that you’ll have to fake happiness at Rafe’s side, a man who’s a prime example of the type of smug, heartless opportunist that you’ve been avoiding all your life.

You hate that yet again, you’re powerless.

There’s no getting out of this. Not unless you get Rafe to back out. It’s worth a try.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

“That should cover everything,” Celeste says, concluding the meeting. “Contact me if you have questions, but if you follow the schedule, you’ll be fine. I’ll be in touch.”

She smooths down her skirt and collects her things.

“And I still need both of your signed contracts,” she says, but her eyes are fixed on you, the only person in this equation making things difficult.

Her heels click as she strides out of the office. You’re still in your seat, the lump in your chest refusing to dissipate.

You can’t allow your parents to weaponize your trust fund just to satisfy their own ruthless agendas, just to appease their malicious need for control.

And living with Rafe isn’t an option. If he witnessed your steady rotation of medical visits, it’d shatter your carefully maintained illusion. You’ve hidden your illness from everyone outside your family, even close friends and past boyfriends. Not out of shame, but survival.

The press would twist it into something ugly, weak, marketable. It’s the one thing you’ve managed to keep private, and you’re not about to hand Rafe and the press another piece of you to tear apart.

You can’t go through with this. You’re too consumed by the price you’d have to pay.

There’s always been a voice whispering to keep going, that the finish line is close. But another angrier one is so much louder, demanding to know what the point is if you leave your self-respect behind. Screaming at you that without dignity, you’ve already lost.

Rafe stands, adjusting the lapels of his jacket, rounding his seat to leave.

“Wait,” you say, your voice thin.

He stops, his hand on the back of his chair.

“What?” he says sharply.

You don’t make eye contact. You continue to stare ahead, settling into the realization that this is the first private moment you’re having with the man you’re expected to marry.

But he hasn’t signed his contract. There’s still time.

Rafe lingers. The fierce anger he’s seen in you has shuffled away, replaced by quiet tension.

“Do you really have to do this?” you say.

He gets the sense that you rebel against everything you’re told to do just for the sake of it. And he’s not a fool who’ll give in to you after all you’ve done is insult him. He can’t believe he thought he would like you.

“It’s just showing up to a few things,” he mutters, his grip tightening on the chair.

You stiffen, frustration etched into your face as you turn to look up at him.

“How do you not see how ridiculous this is?” you ask, your anger back in full force.

“I do,” he scoffs, “but it’s a smart move. It benefits everyone.”

You stand up to face him, crossing your arms. Anyone who calls something your father thought up as smart is an idiot in your book.

“Back out,” you say evenly.

He smirks. It’s satisfying, getting revenge on someone who’s done nothing but make digs at him, telling her no when she’s so used to getting her way.

“So, you don’t want that money?” he says, his tone teetering on mockery.

You groan, infuriated.

“What are you really gaining here?” you snap, your chin pointed up at him. “Is he paying you? Does he have something on you?”

If Rafe ever were to admit to someone just how badly he wants to impress his father, to prove his allegiance to him and the company, it wouldn’t be to you. Someone who would never get it, who has no sense of loyalty, who is so childishly spiteful.

“It’s just six months,” he replies curtly.

You’re desperate, willing to say anything to get him to refuse. Willing to beg as much as your pride will allow you to.

“Please,” you say. “If you refuse, they’ll respect it. They won’t respect me.”

He glares down at you. Of course they won’t respect you. You’re intolerable. You’re trying to sweeten him up, make him pity you, and it’s not working.

You stiffen under his stare, uncomfortable that you have to plead. He’s not giving in. You can tell by the coldness in his eyes.

“I’ll make your life hell if you do this,” you threaten. “Just six months will feel like an eternity.”

He dismisses you, stepping away with a condescending chuckle. But he wholeheartedly believes you.

(to be continued)

new parts of this series drop at 9 pm eastern on thursdays. my update account is @xorafe-library if you want post notifications.

[simpfortheseven]

Randomly saw your post asking for lads fic requests so I'm shooting my shot! Can I get some exhausted Rafayel that is rlly barely holding it together (and let's say he still has stuff to do like an exhibition opening or deadline the next day) and MC taking care of him?

(If u want to ofc!) <3

Ahhh my inbox got FLOODED but i love the soft and tender fluff of taking care of someone stressed

Summary: Rafayels showcase opens tomorrow! Except there's a major problem..

As you tidied up the studio you glanced over at your boyfriend, Rafayel, who was currently yelling at someone over the phone. It was most likely Thomas, he was the only one Rafayel ever got mad at. Your boyfriend was normally calm, and riding the waves of life with a smile. But he took his art seriously.

“I don’t care, just find them!” Rafayel says as he hangs up the phone. He plops down on the couch, laying down and looking up at the ceiling.

“Honey?” You ask gently. “What happened?”

“They lost the entire collection. The truck is gone, they can’t find it,” Rafayel says bleakly.

“Oh my gosh-“ You sit next to him. “Honey, I’m so sorry,”

“I don’t have time to mope,” He sighs and stands. “I need to go have a virtual meeting with the gallery director about the lighting. The lighting for the paintings that won’t be there,”

Normally his sarcastic comments make you chuckle, but his face was giving away his true mood. Rafayel heads to his desk to get on the video call, and you're left stumped. You could go to the showcase and find the paintings, but you're sure that there's already so many staff looking. You could make food, but Rafayel needed more that a quick hit of food induced dopamine. Rafayel needed a solution.

You grab a nearby blank canvas. It was a small canvas, 10 x 8, but you weren't sure you could get anything bigger done in time. While Rafayel normally does oil glazing in his paintings, he had other paints. You settle on acrylics, their fast drying time being the better option.

You get to work, making something, anything that can hang in the showcase on Rafayel's behalf. An abstract painting with lines and curves, splatters, you put your love of him into every stroke.

As soon as it's done, you grab a hair dryer. You blast it on high, trying to get it to dry so you can seal it. Before you can, Rafayel comes in.

"Cutie-?" He tilts his head, looking at you quizzically. "What are you doing?"

"I made you something," You turn it around slowly. "It's not done yet, so don't judge.."

He looks it up and down, opening his mouth and then closing it. It's as if he cant find the words to describe the feeling in his heart.

"You made this for me?" He says quietly. His eyes are full of adoration as he looks over at you.

"Yes," You look down and mumble. "I thought it might be a good replacement for the work that went missing. I know its nothing like what you made, and its not big, and-"

"I love it," He cuts you off with a hug. "Its perfect, wonderful even!"

You sink into the hug sighing softly. Seeing him in a better mood makes your heart melt.

"You really have the best ideas, Cutie," He smiles, kissing your forehead. "I'll make it the center of my collection at the showcase! But wait, they cant keep this one, it's got to come back and be hung up here! I'll find the perfect place and buy a spot light!"

"Wait- the center? I thought they were all gone?"

"Oh yeah, they found all the paintings," He smiles cheerily at you. "But I'm not really worried about them."

"..You could have started with that, Honey,"

[bullet-prooflove]

Do you have any NSFW headcanons for Charlie and Emery that you’re willing to share? I get it if you’re keeping a few things up your sleeve and saving for later

The few things off the top of my head under the cut because this turned into a much bigger post than originally thought.

Equality/Professionalism

It’s a very equal relationship despite there being a professional power imbalance. Charlie works very hard to make sure that there is no feeling of coercion from him in that respect. However there are sometimes when he has to pull rank and I mean, firm voice ‘that is not fucking happening’ and Em will be forced to obey even though he can see in her eyes it’s the last thing she wants to do.

How that plays out in the bedroom – They need to reset the balance.

Em is probably still pissed off when she gets home and he intentionally goads her to break the stalemate. Saying stuff like, ‘if you need to rough me up a little, slap me around to vent that frustration, go for it Em. I get off on that kind of shit.’ It turns into rough sex where it’s almost vying for control, like a fight without words. Buttons getting torn off, his lower lip being bitten, fingertip bruising. He is just as bad, pulling her hair, jamming her thighs open with his hips. Shit gets broken from the ferocity of these two going at each other. When he finally gets inside her, he’s not gentle and neither is she, he’s getting scratched up and bitten as they fuck the shit out of each other on his desk, the coffee table, the floor, wherever they end up.

Switch:

Charlie has to be dominant in his professional life, he’s a force of nature. He has to be responsible for so many people and he knows exactly how to use the carrot and the stick to achieve his goals. That kind of thing can take a real toll on a person so sometimes he needs to be taken care of, he needs to have that control stripped away so that he can relax. That’s part of what Em saw in him during that first night they had together.

While he’s not into restraints he does like the physicality of being pinned down especially if he’s struggling to get out of his own head. He likes the sensation of his wrists pinned above his head, Em’s whole body pressing against his because it makes him feel safe but also plays into the ‘being taken’ aspect. He’s not giving up control, it’s being taken from him in a safe environment.

Edging is a bit of thing for him, it’s having someone else be in charge for once. He never begs but he’s very vocal about what he’s feeling in the moment.

He enjoys praise but terms like ‘Good boy’ and ‘you’re doing so well’ don’t work for him, they’re too childlike.  It has to be more adult and specific to him like ‘you getting off on that Charlie? You like how my tongue feels on your cock?”

On the other side of this sometimes Charlie has a dominant side that comes out to play too. Sometimes this can be situational, eg: they’re at a cop bar separately for retirement drinks and he sees someone hitting on Em. That need to claim her, its fucking strong and the fact he can’t do it openly drives him a little crazy. He’ll orchestrate a situation to get her alone, it could be a smoke break, a secret text summoning her to the coat check, a dark stairwell or bathroom. It’s very much about getting her off, reminding her why she’s with him so depending on time, location and the mood he’s in < this usually depends on who has been doing the flirting with her.

Another detective: She gets to ride his fingers and then wait for his cock until they get home because that man is no match for Charlie. He knows getting her all worked up is gonna make her leave earlier so he can have her entirely to himself.

Ranked officer: More threatening because of the professional proximity and power dynamic. Em is not a good little girl but there’s a certain balancing act women have to play sometimes when a male superior officer makes a move so it doesn't decimate their career. Charlie understands that and fucking hates it. Going down on her shows he loves and appreciates her, even if she has to play that game. – you can bet after this he is running interference with that asshole knowing he’s had her coming on his tongue.

Fireman: Fucking hates them esp since one of Em’s exes was one. Will end up fucking her into the wall because seeing one flirting with her makes him completely feral. If it's the ex, it becomes 'he can't get you off like I can, can he honey?' as he's pumping into her. You can bet, he’s smirking afterwards as the night continues, knowing his cum is dripping into her panties.

Roleplay:

The glasses led to a little professor fantasy that they both didn’t know Em had. It started with Charlie doing paperwork at her house and then her climbing into his lap, commenting that maybe she’d been a bad girl and wasn’t making the grade. And maybe… just possibly there was someway she could earn it? That tapped into something Charlie did not know he was into. It ended in a little spanking, a lot of cock sucking and him coming all over her tits.

There are so many more thing I have to say but I realised how long this post was getting. If you have any specific qs about their sex life, feel free to pop them in.

[z0mb13xxxx]

an unhealthy obsession

synopsis: you work at a your towns local gym, its small but it has the most members, tons of people coming in and out, but this one guy has you wrapped around his finger….

tag: afab!reader, reiner braun, gym rat reiner, smut, NEW WRITER

word count: 2,247

it was a normal day in your shift. most days where like this, you worked 5 days out of the week, 8 hour shifts, but unfortunately for you. your boss schedules you for second shift, one of the most busiest shifts especially at the gym. people just getting out of work and coming straight to the gym. not only that but you guys carried tanning and other amenities too so that was busy. you showed up to your job monster in hand, wearing black shorts and a black t-shirt that has STAFF written in the back in bright orange coloring, as well as your orange and white name tag that states “y/n”

walking in, you’re greeted by your co-worker. “afternoon y/n! your gym crush is here” they say, wiggling their brows. all you can do is chuckle and roll your eyes. going into the break room to set your stuff down, you take a sip of your monster and breath out. “it’ll be fine..just another day, itll go by fast then you can leave and lay in bed again…” you say, trying to keep your head up

walking out into the lobby area, you spot him…your “gym crush”. even though you denied it countless of times. whenever he was here you always coincidentally walked around the gym to make sure “things where neat” as you said. but secretly you were just walking around to get a good look at him. it also seemed like whenever you were on shift or were near him he would always try to show off, maybe it was in your head but damn he always seemed to be so extra.

seeing as nobody was around to help him you walk towards him with a cocky smile, you always tried to flirt with him. yes very unprofessional but he never seemed to mind. it almost seemed like he liked it? maybe it was again, all in your head but it seemed like he was also flirting with you. “yes reiner? how may i assist you?” you say. almost snarky. “really? gonna talk to your favorite member here like that? ouch…” he said with a chuckle and a grin, “nah im playin doll. i need a bar pad.” the pet name made you shiver, he always called you doll and everytime it always made you shudder. “reiner…tsk tsk.. i dunno… do you really deserve it?” you say bending down towards the cabinet where you keep all of the extra equipment

you wouldn’t be lying if you didn’t admit that every time you bent down to grab a bar pad for him you would try and show off your ass extra to him. standing back up and towards him you hand him the bar pad, he grabs it gently out of your hands. “y’know reiner. its so funny, you always come up here and ask for the bar pad but you know where they are, you also know you’re more then welcome to just grab it yourself. eren and jean do it all the time.” you say, resting your hands on your hips. “i’m aware. i just like talking to you. id be lying if i didn’t say you where my favorite staff.” he stated. the comment making you blush slightly, you giggle in response, “that thing about you being my favorite member, how do you know that to be true? what if i hate your guts?” you say, walking towards him slightly pointing your finger towards his chest

he hisses jokingly. “tsk. ouch. really didnt know we were being like that” he said raising a brow, hovering over you slightly he states “dont lie doll i know you’re in love with me, i see the way you look at me” that comment alone gets your face all red. the size of him does not help either. you look away, laughing as you back up to help out another member. “go away reiner. do your workout!” you say swaying your hands away, not only did you need to actually help out another member, you just wanted to avoid the conversation alone. he makes you so fucking nervous its insane.

as you’re helping another member, you notice out of your peripheral vision that he is still standing behind the desk, with that smug look on his fucking face. fuck. as the member leaves you look towards him. “yes?” you say. “whatcha doin later?”, your heart races, fuck fuck fuck. why would he ask you this!? “nothing…? i plan on going to bed” you giggle awkwardly, “what time you get off?” again, your heart is RACING you can fucking feel it getting louder and faster, “i get off around 8. you dont plan on following me home and kidnapping me do you?” he laughs “no no, i was wondering if you wanted to go on a date? aside all the bullshit, i really am interested in you, i wanna take a pretty girl like you out, hows that sound doll?” you can feel your knees getting weak “um…y-yeah! that sounds great!” you state, trying not to sound to excited. “great. how about my house? we can watch a movie? i can make us some dinner or we can order take out?” he grabs a piece of paper and pen from the desk, writing down his address and putting his phone number down “holy shit holy shit this is actually happening what the fuck,what the fuck!!” you thought to yourself, he slides the paper towards you, winking he walks away “see you around 9:45 babe. text me with your address and when you’re ready, ill be at your place to get you” walking away, you stare at him, flustered as fuck you look towards your co-worker who witnessed all of that.

“holy shit..so are you gonna go!?” she says “fuck pieck..you know im gonna, ive had an unhealthy obsession with him for like ever! oh my god i cant believe this.” you squeal. before you know it, its already 8, clocking out and grabbing your things you walk to your car, fumbling with your keys you get in and drive to your apartment. parking and walking into your house you check the time and its 8:12 enough time to shower and get ready. you turn on some music, take off your work clothes and hop in the shower. before leaving work you had shot reiner a message letting him know it was you. finishing up with your shower you get out, dry your hair and get ready, putting on some spandex shorts, and a graphic t-shirt, you had no clue how far this was gonna go so you wanted to be comfortable, if it was a restaurant you would’ve dressed nicer but honestly you didnt care. sitting at your makeup table you put on some mascara and put your hair up into a claw clip.

checking your phone to see the time, its around 9:15, you took a long ass shower because you wanted to make sure everything was perfect for him. i mean fuck. its been years since you went on a date so you wanted to be perfect. looking at your phone you notice time is going by fairly slow. “it wouldn’t hurt to shoot him a message..maybe he wont mind coming early?” going to the messages app you text him

you: hey!! im finished getting ready you wanna come now?

9:20….you stare at your phone to see he read it but no response…maybe this was a mistake? fuck….ping!!! you hear looking right away

reiner: Sure. Im omw.

holy shit this is happening, you stand up, sliding into some crocs, because again, you’re just gonna be at his house so why dress nice? plus, if things go south it’ll be pretty easy for him to slide off your clothes. feeling a vibration from your phone, its a message from him stating that he’s there. shit your heart is racing, this is happening. after months of dreaming about this, you get up grabbing your bag and keys, locking the door you walk downstairs to the front, noticing him standing outside, leaning on the hood of his black truck he lifts his head up from him phone and grins, waving at you.

fuck. he looks so delicious in those grey sweats. staring at him you walk in front of him and smile. “guess we both had the same idea of dressing comfy?” you state. nodding he walks to the passenger side opening the door you hop in and he shuts it, getting into the drivers side he starts the truck and looks over at you. “so. what are your boundaries? id like to get this out of the way so i know how to make you comfortable” he says. placing your hands in your lap you look back at him “i’m pretty comfortable with anything honestly. i haven’t been on a date in over 2 years so i’m pretty touch starved” you state, he smiles and nods, turning on some music he places his hand against the passenger head rest and looks back as he reverses. putting his truck into drive he starts heading to his place, placing a hand on your thigh, a little to close to your heat but you don’t mind. this action alone make you assume you’re definitely getting some tonight

arriving at his house you place your hand on the door handle. as he lightly taps your thigh you jump and look at him in confusion. “ah ah..have some respect doll. the man always opens the door” he says taking his keys out if the ignition and getting out to open your door. holding his hand out you take it and step out of the truck, shutting the door you walk towards the front door. his hand on the small of your back he unlocks the door and lets you in first, you are immediately welcomed with the aroma of steak. “wow smells so good!! did you cook before you got me?” you say looking up at him. “yeah i wanted to kinda make sure everything was all ready so we didn’t have to wait”

as time passes you guys are huddled up on the couch, you’re in his lap passionately kissing him. the movie playing in the background, food not even touched. as his hands rest on your hips, you grind against him, testing the waters you hear a low groan come from his throat. pulling away to catch your breath, he leans into the side of your neck leaving small kisses, sighing softly, you rest your hands on his shoulder, continuing to grind gently. “fuck…you keep doing that and im gonna go wild doll..” practically making you limp in his hands you pull away and look at him “go wild then” you smirk

as he picks you up he heads to his room, laying you down on his bed, he steps back and takes a look at you, his growing erection begging to be let out of his sweats. “fuck. you okay with this? i don’t wanna push you..” he looks at you, trying to find some sort of hesitation in you. “you have no idea how long i’ve been wanting this reiner..fuck..just please give it to me.” he practically moans at your words, getting on his knees he pulls off your spandex and panties, staring at your glistening wet cunt in awe, he looks up at you again. gently placing a finger against your fold. “fuuuck…you’re so wet for me sweetheart” melting into his thick finger like putty, you moan at his statement. inserting one of his digits into your cunt, he leans down and licks your clit gently “mm so good..” he groans into your cunt. the vibrations making you moan louder then you already where. “gotta prep you first before i give you this cock doll..is that okay?” you nod, “i need a actual response from you.” he demands “yes reiner. fuck yes just keep going” that statement in its self was enough to make him pull off his sweats and pound into your tight pussy

as he continues to gently suck on your clit, he inserts another one of his digits into your cunt, loving the way you suck him in, he curls his fingers against your spongy walls, earning a deliciously loud moan from you. his fingers are thick, thick enough to hit you in all the right spots. “i’m gonna give it to you so good that no other guy can fuck you like i can” he groans into your pussy, finger your pussy faster, sucking on your clit harder, you grip his hair, arching your back as you feel the knot in you coming slowly undone “fuck..reiner fuck i’m gonna cum!” you moan out, “mmm yes baby cum, cum on my mouth” he growls, continuing at his pace, you release yourself all over his mouth, you can feel him lapping you up, making obnoxiously loud slurping noises as he chuckles with your moaning. continuing to finger you through your orgasm, he pulls out his fingers, licking them clean, as he stands up he takes one good look at you and chuckles again. “are you ready?” as you look up at him with a worried expression you nod as you glance down at his cock. „fuck how am i gonna take that.„ you thought to yourself

authors note: alright yall! this was my first fic let me know how i did, i feel like i kept this going on for way to long so let me know if you want a part 2 at all!! thanks for reading!!

honorable mentions @sundew199 @wintrrxxo thank you guys for giving me the inspo and being my favorite writers

@z0mb13xxxx please do not use my works for AI related purposes, copy, modify, or steal my works.

[vera-deville]

I am here with but one simple request, jack with a non-confrontational, socially anxious reader! it’s such a contrast with his own confrontational manner and lone-wolf nature that I think would be quite interesting to explore (๑>ᴗ<๑)

love your writing, keep up the good work ^_^ ♡

Louder Than Words 05/03/2025

Pairing: Jack Howl x Reader Word Count: 1,104 Warnings: N/A Gender: GN Tags: @qaxdea, @katzline Notes: Thank you so much! I really needed to hear that, and I'm so happy you enjoy my writing! Masterlist

You had always known that group projects were simply another nook of purgatory established to make life that much more devious to get through.

The very idea of them gave your stomach leeway to twist into anxious knots, constricting like a boa until you couldn't breathe anymore. It wasn't that you didn't like people (okay, perhaps a little), but it was more so that you didn't know what to do with them. The talking. The awkward "who's doing what" conversation. The silent tug-of-war when nobody wanted to take the lead, and everyone kept glancing around, waiting for someone to volunteer. You'd rather write five essays alone in a cave than do one group project with three strangers who barely remember your name.

So when Professor Trein announced a four-person Herbology research project, you nearly curled up under your desk and died on the spot.

And of course, fate - cruel, ironic fate - put Jack Howl in your group.

Jack, with his gruff voice and stone-faced demeanor. Jack, who didn't care if someone got upset when he said what he really thought. Jack, who had no problem walking straight into confrontation like it was a warm summer breeze.

You were going to die. Or cry. Possibly (most likely) both.

The rest of your group was rounded out by a loudmouth from Savanaclaw named Yulan, who had opinions about everything, and a sleepy Octavinelle student who you were 90% sure was just in it for the grade. That left you, nervous, anxious, and wouldn't-say-boo-to-a-ghost you, trying desperately to keep things from going up in smoke.

The first meeting went about as well as expected.

"I'm just saying, if we're talking about magical soil composition, we have to include the variant growth properties from the Scarabia greenhouse. That stuff is wild."

"Yeah, but that's not what the assignment's asking for," Jack cut in, arms crossed. "It says we need to focus on herbological integration in real-world applications, not theory."

"I am talking about a real-world application!"

"Not if you can't prove it," Jack said flatly.

Yulan slammed a notebook on the table. "You wanna bet?"

You could practically feel your soul saying goodbye to your body.

"Um...maybe we can, uh, do both?" You squeaked, almost whispering.

Neither of them heard you.

"Alright, I'm done arguing," Jack growled, standing up. "If you want to waste your time, go for it. But I'm not failing because someone can't read a prompt."

Yulan bristled. "Who're you calling someone, dog boy?"

You slid a little further down in your seat.

And yet, even after the shouting and the note-slinging and the pure chaos of that first meeting, Jack stayed behind when the others left.

You hadn't said a word in the last fifteen minutes. Just scribbled things in your notebook and tried not to look like you wanted to evaporate.

Jack leaned against the table, arms crossed, looking almost...thoughtful.

"Hey," He said. "You okay?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

He nodded toward your still-white-knuckled grip on your pen. "You looked like you were about to bolt."

You flinched. "I...I don't really do well with conflict. Or people in general."

Jack's ears twitched. "I could tell."

You braced yourself for the judgement. The teasing. The "well, toughen up" speech.

But it never came.

Jack looked away, scratching the back of his neck. "Didn't mean to snap like that. I just hate when people don't listen. It's not personal."

You blinked again. Slowly. "You...weren't mad at me?"

He snorted. "You didn't do anything."

That shouldn't have made you tear up the way it did.

"Thanks," You said softly. "I, um...I wanted to say something, but I didn't want to make it worse."

He looked down at you, golden eyes narrowing slightly. Not in judgement. In...curiosity?

"You always like this with people?" He asked.

You nodded mutely.

Jack grunted. "Then I'll talk to them."

"What?"

"I'll keep the loud ones off your back. You focus on the research stuff. You're good at that, right?"

"I-I guess so. I mean, I like organizing and writing..."

"Good," Jack said simply. "Then you do that. And if Yulan tries to start another debate, I'll shut it down."

You blinked. "Just like that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You want me to not help you?"

"No! I just...I'm not used to people being that direct."

"Guess that's why I'm here," Jack muttered. "Balance."

From then on, Jack didn't just participate in the project - he managed it. Not in the way most people would simply take over, but rather by smoothing out the chaos so that you never had to. If Yulan got too loud, Jack would glare at him until he quieted down. If the Octavinelle student slacked off, Jack growled until he did something useful. And whenever it came time to present your findings to the professor, Jack always, always deferred to you to start the presentation.

"You did most of the writing," He'd shrug. "It's only fair."

You couldn't remember the last time someone had made you feel...capable. Protected, even. But never belittled.

It wasn't just about the project anymore.

Jack started walking with you to class after your meetings. He'd slow his pace to match yours, quietly adjusting his long strides so you didn't feel like you were trying to keep up. When he asked you questions, he actually listened - ears twitching every so often as you spoke, tail swishing thoughtfully behind him.

"You talk quiet," He once said, "But you say smart things."

You flushed all the way to your ears.

Eventually, you even got comfortable enough to sit with him at lunch. Jack didn't talk much, but you didn't feel like you had to either. He liked the silence. He thrived in it. And now, so did you.

"Can I ask you something?" You mumbled one afternoon as you sat underneath a tree, papers spread between you.

Jack nodded.

Why do you go out of your way to help me? I mean, I'm not...strong. Or brave. Not like you."

Jack looked at you for a long moment, then snorted.

"You ever try doing something when your heart's about to leap outta your chest? Walking into a room full of people, talking even when your throat locks up?" He shook his head. "That's strength, too. Just a different kind."

You stared at him.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Don't look at me like I said something poetic."

You laughed. "Sorry. You just surprise me sometimes."

He shrugged. "I like people who are real. You don't put on a front. You just...are."

Your chest swelled with something warm and unsure and a little fluttery.

Maybe group projects weren't all bad.

Author's Note: I've been in a bit of a rut lately, which I was really sad about, because a couple of months ago, I had a really good streak going, and I was churning out fics at a rapid rate. Unfortunately, I just kind of fell off that streak for a while. I'm trying to get back into it, and I also plan on opening commissions soon! Please be on the lookout for more information regarding that, and I hope you enjoyed this fic!

[svnscape]

epilogue: i hate u i love u

the whole house was quiet. jaemin’s snores were abnormally loud and even louder during summertime, even with the air-conditioning on, which meant haechan’s hopes of sleeping tonight were completely ruined.

summer vacation, before a whole new beginning for everyone, had just kickstarted but haechan couldn’t find the tiniest bit of joy to fully immerse himself into it, even if he was currently sleeping in a multimillionaire’s house, on a beyond comfortable mattress with the air conditioning on full blast.

he just couldn’t.

plus the fact that it was impossible for him to sleep off his thoughts, as jaemin’s snores grew even louder, made haechan groan and jump off the bed to head to another room.

chenle had given him full access to a ginormous room where haechan conveniently put all of his stuff in, in case he couldn’t sleep or wanted more peace.

even if he doesn’t act like it, chenle was very observant and caring towards all of his friends and recently, especially to haechan as he noticed the shifts in his behavior ever since all of them graduated.

he knew he was going through it, immensely, and the only way he could cheer him up was by shutting up and giving him the peace and quiet he needed sometimes.

so that is where haechan heads off to, his footsteps barely audible on this very shiny floor, as he made his way towards the end of the hall.

it was very quiet and smelled like expensive lavender, if that was even a thing.

he genuinely loved this room and its huge and bouncy duvet, as haechan spent most of his time here, listening to music and looking at your instagram account.

yes he was very much stalking you and he would rather die than have his friends find out about this new hyperfixation.

but tonight he had different plans as he finally eyes that small black and very worn out object sitting on top of his laptop.

mark’s usb.

i mean it was about time he finds out what’s in it and get it over with and he was obviously not enjoying this vacation, so whatever that usb holds, it had no hopes of ruining his already very monotonous and rotting summer.

so he sits down on the desk and plugs that usb in, without a second thought.

he just wanted it to be over.

but that usb had other plans as it took forever to load its files onto haechan’s computer, making him close his eyes and sigh in despair.

nothing about mark came on easy and it was genuinely making him loose his mind.

but then finally, the 3 files had loaded and haechan’s heartbeat spiked.

why the hell was he nervous?

he eyes them for a good ten minutes before he finally decided to open the first one, on the left of the screen, that was named “read first”

he clicks on it to find a small and simple untitled word file.

so he clicks again.

hey! it’s your markie. sorry you already know that. i’m nervous typing this out when you’re literally a hallway away from me. it’s 4am and you looked exhausted today so i’m guessing you’re sound asleep. i can’t sleep though.

anyways i’m sorry if this was corny or uncomfortable. i’m sure you’re wondering why the hell did i leave you a usb hahah. you probably called me old too, i know you very well hae.

but yeah, other than this file you’ll find two other ones, one named haechan and the other named tunes. open them both.

the haechan file has all the demos we recorded almost three years ago. yeah i kept them and i listened to them almost everyday. it also has demos i recorded later on and thought they’d only sound good with your voice in them. i don’t know if you’ll like them or even listen to them but please consider them as an apology. i would love for you to grace them with your voice haechan.

the tunes file has all of my unreleased songs. i’m still waiting for the approval of my label but there’s one song i’ve been waiting to release — i hate u i love u. i don’t care if my label says yes or no but i need your approval first. i’m sorry but it’s a song about you and it’ll mean the whole universe to me if you’d listen to it and tell me if i can release it, i won’t do it without your approval.

please let me know, please.

before you close this file, please let me say;

hae… i’m sorry for everything. i was scared because i felt myself feel too deeply about you and i had to choose between you, my career and another person who i’ve come to realize that i just ruined their time and made them believe in something that was never meant to go further. for some reason, i always loose my words when it comes to you but i think my song will explain it all: so again, please listen to it. i won’t release it unless you allow me to.

bye.

- mark minhyung lee

click here to listen to mark lee’s latest single — lyrics down below

Feeling used, but I'm still missing you

And I can't see the end of this

Just wanna feel your kiss

Against my lips

And now all this time

Is passing by

But I still can't seem to tell you why

It hurts me every time I see you

Realize how much I need you

I hate you I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

I miss you when I can't sleep

Or right after coffee

Or right when I can't eat

I miss you in my front seat

Still got sand in my sweaters

From nights we don't remember

Do you miss me like I miss you?

Fucked around and got attached to you

Friends can break your heart too, and

I'm always tired but never of you

If I pulled a you on you, you wouldn't like that shit

I put this reel out, but you wouldn't bite that shit

I type a text but then I nevermind that shit

I got these feelings but you never mind that shit

Oh oh, keep it on the low

You're still in love with me but your friends don't know

If u wanted me you would just say so

And if I were you, I would never let me go

I don't mean no harm

I just miss you on my arm

Wedding bells were just alarms

Caution tape around my heart

You ever wonder what we could have been?

You said you wouldn't and you fucking did

Lie to me, lie with me, get your fucking fix

Now all my drinks and all my feelings are all fucking mixed

Always missing people that I shouldn't be missing

Sometimes you gotta burn some bridges just to create some distance

I know that I control my thoughts and I should stop reminiscing

But I learned from my dad that it's good to have feelings

When love and trust are gone

I guess this is moving on

Everyone I do right does me wrong

So every lonely night, I sing this song

I hate you I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

All alone I watch you watch her

Like she's the only girl you've ever seen

You don't care you never did

You don't give a damn about me

Yeah all alone I watch you watch her

She's the only thing you've ever seen

How is it you never notice

That you are slowly killing me

I hate you I love you

I hate that I love you

Don't want to, but I can't put

Nobody else above you

I hate you I love you

I hate that I want you

You want her, you need her

And I'll never be her

coming soon, in september: i hate u? i love u? season two — don’t

new scene, new people and old appearances. will your relationship with haechan hold strong or will you both go back to old habits? don’t get tempted.

prev — m.list

taglist: @bbykaixx @alwayswonbinning @weepingsweep @dudekiss3r @kukkurookkoo @hoeingthefuckup @gomdoleemyson @haeclips @luvvhaechan @hsified @heegyuwrld @lubunnii @firydst @daengiez @nahyuckers @httpsxnox @n0hyuck @hi00000234567 @scoobysnackszoo @minkyuncutie @yuthabitz @haechology @neogotmysam @sanniekook @kisseokiss @nqyzhuo @kooookie @lovenha7 @andassortedkpop @jising-jisang-jisung @markleesleftpinky @ourbeautifulaffair @dilflover44 @nctdreamchaser @leehaechie @nosungluv

a/n: and it’s overrrr

yes this smau was inspired by the song — i hate u, i love u

i was obsessed with this song when i was younger lmao.

anyways. thank you so much guys! seriously!!! you’ve made my experience of posting my first smau on tumblr so good and fun i will never thank you enough.

i’m still gonna spend more time focusing on this story and universe so please interact and come to my asks with anything you’d like to say. i’d be beyond happy answering you.

also it’ll make me very happy if you guys would tune in for my next series which i’ve already spoiled the title of (reflections). more infos about it will be posted soon hehehe.

again, thank you and i love you all!!!

see you soon for the second season.

mwah!!!!

— ruby.

[mellozine]

Scrapbook

I don't normally write fanfic, but I have a bunch of vague ideas that I really gotta get out.

ReaderxJerry, Gender Neutral reader, past male love interest briefly mentioned. Fluff. The scrapbook can't be dateviated, don't worry about it. Not beta read, we die like Hank no. 6

“Whatcha’ got there, friend-o?”

You jump, startled to find Jerry peering over your shoulder, looking with interest at the old composition book sitting on your desk. It has a tattered cover, littered with peeling stickers with miscellaneous things sticking out all over. It hardly even closes.

“Just something I found in the attic,” you reply. “Lady Memoria really wants me to get on cleaning it out. I knew I had a lot of stuff up there, but I never realized how much.”

“A lot of stuff, huh…?”

“Jerry, we talked about this.”

“No, no, you’re right, the attic wouldn't be a…healthy environment for me,” he says, with a bit of a frown. “But, if you ever decide you needed a little assistance with curating-”

“Jerry.”

“Alright, alright.”

“Anyway, to answer your question…it's my old scrapbook.” You hope that if you sate his curiosity, it will distract him from the idea of all the potential lost items in the attic. “I used to paste everything and anything in here for years.”

“Cheese n’ crackers…! Uh, may I?” he asks, gesturing toward the well worn book.

“Sure. Actually…” you rise from your office chair and gesture for him to sit.

As Jerry thumbs through the well worn pages, you point out photographs and little notes, explaining the context behind each one. Jerry, however, is less interested in the photographs than he is the various bits and bobs taped and glued to the pages.

“Oh, that?” you ask, referring to a chunky star shaped button. “I grew out of my favorite coat that year. One of the buttons fell off before my mom donated it, so I decided to keep it. It's really kinda cute, isn't it?”

“And what about these?” Jerry asks, pointing out a series of candy wrappers adorned with cute cartoon characters, lined up neatly, each adhered to the page with decorative tape.

“Oh, a candy company did a promo for a show my friends and I liked! Each wrapper had a different character on it! We spent the whole summer trying to get a full set,” you laugh. “I was the only one of us who managed it. We were so sick of that stuff by the end of it. I haven't eaten any since.”

He turned the page, revealing a photograph of a young man right in the center, the entire rest of the page adorned in heart shaped glittery stickers.

“Oh-ho, and who is-”

“You don't need to see that right now,” you say, turning the page.

“But-”

“You don't. Need to see it.”

“I uh, guess I don't need to see it. Hey, look, a four leaf clover! And so well preserved!”

“Oh, yeah! Some friends and I went on a hike during spring break that year! I found that while we were having lunch!” you smile, as the memory of that day comes flooding back. “I was nearly dead by the time we got to the end of the trail, but I was so excited to find that. Like that made the sweat and hard work of getting there all worth it.”

Your eyes light up at the next page and you point out an old concert ticket, covered with a large piece of clear packing tape.

“That was my first concert!” you exclaim loudly, causing Jerry to startle as a broad smile grows across your face. “I saved my money for months to afford tickets to see Warp live! I still remember feeling the bass all the way in my chest! It was amazing!”

Jerry looks at you. He's not sure he's ever seen you quite so excited, even among the beauty of his various exhibits in the junk drawer. Not even the spare change exhibit has ever caught your interest this way and that was always a crowd pleaser. The crowd was usually just him, but still. 

“Bedknobs and broomsticks, it certainly seems that way. I guess those were pretty good times!”

“They really were,” you say softly. Your expression dims, as sadness starts to creep over you. “It's weird, suddenly being reminded of people I don't talk to anymore and stuff I used to like doing. Maybe I should just throw this out…”

You reach towards the book, but Jerry snatches it away, jumping to his feet. For a moment, he splutters in disbelief, holding it to his chest, almost protectively.

“Wh- How…How could you ever consider throwing this away?! All these stories, these memories…?!”

“Jerry, it's not even a proper scrapbook. It's a composition book with crap glued in it.”

“It's not crap! It's a rich history! It's incredible! It's beautiful! It's…it's you!”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, silence hanging heavy in the air. After a few moments, Jerry laughs nervously.

“I…I meant that…you, you don't…haha, listen to me, going on! That's uh, that's ol’ Jerry for you, huh? Just, uh…oh boy…”

You're quiet for a moment more, as your eyes settle on the ragged notebook in Jerry's hands. He notices you staring and his own gaze flits around the room anxiously, feeling as if your eyes could bore holes into his chest.

“I guess keeping it a little while longer might not be such a bad idea. Actually, why don't you hold on to it for me?”

His face lights up and he holds the scrapbook to his chest, a little tighter, as if it were some precious treasure.

“Really?!”

“Sure. …Just don't take anything out of it.”

“I-I wasn't going to!”

Later, in the cramped confines of the junk drawer, Jerry wanders, looking for the perfect place to place…the Tome of Memories.  But nothing seems quite right. It's not a Lost Item, after all. It's a Found Item with no mysteries held within. He already knows all of its secrets. Well, most of them. He thumbs through it again, smiling fondly at the memory of you, radiating joy as you told him all of your stories. Carefully, he tucks it into a pocket inside his overstuffed jacket. Perhaps this treasure will be part of his private collection for now.

[z0mbieb0yx]

Will made a mental note and lifted his fingers in a half-salute. He narrowly resisted saying roger that, which he knew would earn him an eyeroll or some well-meaning lecture about how he couldn't let Mike and Dustin reform him into a total nerd. As far as Will was concerned, he liked being a nerd-- for the most part. He figured it was better to be picked on for getting good grades and liking comics and Dungeons and Dragons than something else.

He wrinkled his nose, trying to remember what his mom had said her new job entailed. It would help, maybe, if Will had even half a clue as to what it took to run a school behind the scenes. "It's some kind of like... administration?" he offered, "Like, front desk I'm pretty sure. She said something about attendance, too..." It dawned on Will, then, that this wasn't exactly good news for Max. But maybe... it could also be helpful, to have someone on the school side who knew her, knew what she'd been through in a way no one else did-- someone who could advocate for her. Not that Max needed it. Or wanted it.

"It'll be good for her, I think. Something new," Will rattled off, pausing to think about how he felt, which he knew Max's raised eyebrow was asking. "I don't know if I'm, like... glad she'll be close by, or--" Will sighed, feeling guilty for even having reservations about it, "Jonathan keeps saying I should do normal stuff. Like go to parties or whatever. Which I-- which, one, I don't know if I even want to do. And two..." he trailed off, sure that Max knew what he was thinking. How was he supposed to have a 'normal' senior year with his mom in the other room?

Stealing a glance at Jonathan's yearbooks wasn't a bad idea, and Will nodded. "Yeah, I guess I can be lame and give him study tips," he laughed, scratching at the back of his neck. Will's lips twisted up into a fond smile at the mention of lunch all together. That was truly what he was excited about, doing all the normal, so-mundane-you-don't-think-about-them things with his friends. Lunch, passing period, calculus. "He's been talking about the opening assembly for a month already," Will revealed with a groan. He loved Dustin, but when he got fixated on something... well, it was very unstoppable force. Will flashed Max a teasing smile, "Are there even other clubs?" Still, he shrugged. "I haven't thought much about it yet. Are you?"

"Green." Max answered instantly, then after some thought, added, "Or black. Whatever you have really." She didn't want to make too much of a stink about it, as long as she didn't end up with some flashy Mead Critter Sitter folder, she'd be fine. "Thanks again." For hooking her up with the supplies, and for storing them. If she were to carry them around the block party, they'd inevitably get smacked out of her hands like they did to nerds in some corny teen romcom. She had to make a concerted effort not to allow her jaw to drop at the revelation. Joyce got a job at Hawkins High? Sure, it made sense or whatever. However Max anticipated it being a problem for her. Other staff, she could write off, but Joyce catching her ditching? That seemed almost impossible to wriggle out of. She stayed nonchalant, propping a hand on the table and asking, "Oh really? What's she doing?" She cast Will another look, one that privately asked And how do we feel about that? "Give yourself more credit than that, Will." Surely, he knew there was more than the stupid Hellfire Club. Maybe not? "Orrr, take a look at one of your brother's yearbooks. You'll be fine. You're friendly and get good grades, that's probably why they picked you." She assured sincerely. Max rarely felt lucky, more the opposite if anything. But in this instance, yeah, she was. She shrugged in agreement. Max had hoped maybe Will's excitement would rub off on her, but no luck. She wasn't going to dunk on him for it though, "Yeah. It'll be nice to have you and El at lunch and stuff. I don't know if I can take another six months of Dustin groaning about student council by myself." Still, she was unconvinced. It seemed everyone was excited about senior year, except her. "Hey, speaking of, are you gonna join any clubs? Other than Hellfire."

[eye-5]

going to my old place tomorrow to see what they say after the walkthrough and pick up the vacuum and then going on tuesday to get my bike, see MALENA, and drop off the keys and then i’ll finally be DONE MOVING 🔥💯🙌at last

[stygiansauce]

🦃 morning / afternoon / evening!

Scarian is the classic <3 ive only written them once for a friend and it took me… months… got stuck on one scene and avoided it for ages (and then got into taurtis x grian but that’s another story)

Cub and Scar being brotherly and inseparable is soo <3333 everything to me. Have you read “closer to another shore”? Oh my god. Changed my life. And scar and Cub within that book… absolute peak. Devoured it twice over and once more on top of that. Very much recommend if you want to tear your own heart out and crush grian like a bug!

ooo! I'll have to give that one a lookie!

I have this whole scale AU for Scarian that I'll write one day. it's bound to be my hardst work yet (yeah including the historial research and mapping nightmare that is Dealing Despair), because Splinter is one of those fics you have to plan every single scene out to make it all come together in the end.

My goal with Splinter) whenever I get around to writing it, it is to have like a fraction of coolness Birrdie's as above, so below has?? It's still one of my favorite fics of all time and I strive to write an AU like that one day. Splinter isnt the same thing? it's like a past life kind of thing, but the part im trying to emulate from aasb is the "oh something is happening here...I am scared of it" vibe.

Eitherway, if you want a good Grian fic (with some Scarian) THATS the fic. This is the fic I give to all my friends new to the fandom/to fanfiction. I shove aasb and Dirges in the Dark at them because those are the two fanfics I want on my shelf YESTERDAY. Like physical copies. (I am working on that actually....)

OKAY I'VE YAPPED ENOUGH! Time to clock in for the writing shift today <3

[july-19th-club]

i have no mouth and i must scream speech but for about insomnia hate hate hate let me tell you how much i have come to hate being awake

[brutal-nemesis]

after all these years i have a fucking Rock Job im so so hyped oh my fucking god i will have money

[evanescentsun]

I WASNT ABLE TO FINISH THIS BUT…… I STILL WANTED TO POST FOR MY GIRL…. (I mean I probs could have finished the lineart within the two hours left BUT…..I sorely needed a break ahaha)

(also writing that ALT going me laughing so much. so many unfinished hands/arms going around.)

sketch under cuz I liked it… it was cute….;

[skunkes]

I thought my "struggling to get anything done until its very very late at night, and only for a few hours, after a full day of fatigue and laziness" behavior was a recent thing, in the wake of graduating and being unemployed and out of schooling, but its been at the very least 5 years because I made a comic about this when i was still IN college.

[theygender]

I wish cats were like dogs where you could take them to a cat park or kitty daycare or on a playdate and let them run around with other hyper energetic kittens for several hours and then you bring them back home and they're so played out that they're just chill the rest of the day. Astrid is in her preteen phase now and she has the most violent destructive zoomies of any cat I've ever seen. Our older male cat can't keep up with her when she really wants to play and neither can we. I just played with her until she flopped from exhaustion TWICE a few hours ago and she's already jetting around at near light speed knocking shit off every horizontal surface and doing kickflips off of us with her claws out again

[beancalzone]

being vague for the sake of not doxxing myself too much but I work for a company that manufactures construction materials and sells directly to contractors, and in our last office building we just had a reception counter where customers would come up to pay for their products before going over to the loading docks. Like, the only thing they did in the office was stand at the counter, pay for their order, and leave. We moved into a new office building and instead of a counter the customer lobby is now separated by a wall with a sliding window and a door (marked "employees only") to actually get in and out of the office. Our office is in a not-so-great part of town, and while realistically no one is going to try to rob us a lot of the reason its there is for the peace of mind (and plus the girls in customer service have been enjoying the slight bit of privacy and separation as opposed to the open concept in the last building)

We've only been in this building for a week and its insane to me how nearly *every* customer has gotten extremely hostile about the lack of access they have to us now. We've had to adjust the window to where it can only be opened from the inside because customers have been trying to pry it all the way open to lean/stick their heads inside to get closer and try reading the paperwork on people's desks, and when they got mad that the window is locked they keep trying to bust through the "employees only" door and get upset when theyre told they arent allowed back here. And if they aren't forcing their way in theyre huffing and puffing about the fact that theres even separation in the first place and how inconvenient it is. Like, I cannot emphasize enough that customers spend a maximum of five minutes in the office/lobby on any given day. Its extremely bizarre to me that the fact that we are in a closed office is literally SUCH an issue and I dont understand it. Do that many people really just not see customer service workers as human beings that they arent entitled complete access to. Its strange.