#for people wanting to make a quick buck and exploit her fame

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

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[sunflowerstache]

Falling

What do you do when the person you pictured your entire life with, suddenly seems to have fallen out of love with you?

Word Count: 2.4k A/N: This is a piece for the wonderfully amazing beautiful @hsogolden​ Fine Line Fic Challenge! Thank you so much for putting this together Bri, it’s been so fun to read different interpretations of the songs! This one shot takes place in my Another World universe (you can find the fit here!) And this will be part 1/2 So I promise there will be a continuation of this hahaha but yeah I hope you enjoy and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

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When you’re in the thick of it, surrounded by people chanting your name and screaming back the emotions you’d spent hours - months even - trying to perfectly articulate, making a name for yourself seems like the most important part of life. When you’re standing on a stage, in front of thousands of people who spend their hard earned money just to hear your deepest thoughts and watch you pretend to know how to dance, it awakens something inside you, makes you feel like you were born to entertain. That all the sleepless nights crying over failed attempts and constant rejections were finally worth it once you got to watch your art touch the lives of others. You hear children all over the world talk about it; aspiring to be famous when they grew up. Especially in today’s world where at the click of a button, the lives of any celebrity was at your fingertips.

But when you finally decide to take that plunge and reach for the stars, no one warns you quiet enough of the darkness fame holds. Because sure, people all over the world hold your art close to their hearts and you get awards and your fans love every part of you, but they also criticize, put down, and invade your entire life. No longer are you able to be a person who interests and hobbies; instead, you must fit into whatever size box the world has built for you. You can’t say certain things, wear certain clothes, or be seen with certain people. Because that’s how you end up on the cover of People Magazine with the whole world questioning your personal life.

The photo angirly stared up at you from the coffee table, nearly burning a whole in the side of your face while you avidly tried to avoid looking at it any longer. His familiar glazed over eyes, eyes that you had been on the receiving end of dozens of times, had taken up tracing the patterns of someone else’s cheeks, his fingers learning the curves of her back while they climbed into the dark car. Long gone were the perfectly manicured curls you had given him in the shared bathroom of your home, and instead in their place, the locks you had grown to love over the years, were flowing every which way, from her hands no doubt. If you were in a cartoon, the miniscule moment in time, captured and frozen, would have broken the short table as soon as you placed it down, the weight behind the click of a camera.

“Seems like not even their History together could keep ex 1D members turned lovers Harry Styles and Y/N L/N together. Harry was spotted outside ‘San Vicente Bungalows’ with a mystery woman… who wasn’t his longtime girlfriend and mother of their child, Isabella age 3. Trouble in paradise?”

These were the moments you wished someone had warned you about all those years ago when deciding this was the career path you wanted. You wished someone had sat you down and prepared you for the heartbreak of seeing your personal life being exploited for a quick buck. Sure, you had seen it happen to countless celebrities, but when it’s not happening to you, it doesn’t seem like a real thing that hurts the parties involved. Because if the rumors were true, then they ruin a relationship, and if they aren’t true, then those involved have to overcome the public scrutinizing their decision to stay together.

And Harry had never given you a reason to think this would happen. From the moment you met him, it wasn’t hard to see just how wonderful of a man he was. The morals he lives by and the levels of kindness he tries to spread to everyone he comes in contact with. He was more than anything you ever thought you’d end up with, and the best father to your daughter that even your wildest dreams couldn’t conjure up. But sometimes, things happen, and you can’t control them.

You thought you had prepared enough, but the second the front door opened, the feeling in your fingertips began to fade away. Every word you had strung together in your mind to help you calmly talk your boyfriend, had fizzled into nothing, and you were left with nothing but panic. This had never happened to the two of you before, and figuring out how to navigate this conversation without coming off as accusatory was nearing impossible.

“Hey baby! Sorry, I know I know I said I’d be back like an hour ago, but God, you wouldn’t believe the traffic right now! I stopped by that bakery to make it up to you though, you know, the one with the deluxe muffin things you both love?”

Not once, in all four years of your relationship, had the sound of Harry’s voice made a shiver run up your back in anything less than a pleasurable way. But sitting on the sofa while listening to him move around your kitchen, it only made you want to be sick - and you didn’t know if it was because you truly believed what was in front of you, or because you were so nervous to ask about it.

“Where’s B anyway? Usually runs right up when I open the door.” he laughed.

“With Steph.”

“Oh shit, yeah today was their Universal day, right? Surprised we haven’t gotten any videos yet.”

“Hmm.”

You knew it was only a matter of time before he started questioning your responses. Typically when he got home, both you and Bella wouldn’t leave him alone, hounding him with kisses and remarks about your day to try and make him jealous of what he missed out on. So, you sitting and not giving him much of anything was bound to raise some suspicions.

“You alright, love? Quiet today.”

“Yeah.”

“You sure? Just sound like you’re a little down. We can stay in tonight, just cuddle and watch-”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know why his words got cut off. The coffee table was in his direct line of view as he made his way into the living room and you’d left the magazine right on top of everything, in perfect eyesight of anyone entering the room. He’d come from a day at the studio with Kid, clad in one of his usual recording getups; loose blue jeans and a colorful sweater. His hair was just getting to a point that you dearly missed, the curls just beginning to cover the tips of his ears and a light stubble growing on the very end of his chin. A true look for a recording rock and roll artist. And you wanted to smile at how cozy he looked, to curl up next to him and love on him while you had the house to yourselves, but when you looked at him, you could only picture her.

“Y/N….”

“Did you sleep with her?”

You never meant for the conversation to start like that. You wanted to ease into it and remind him that you love and trust him, but the little part inside of you, the part of the girl who had been so hurt in past relationships and worried everything perfect you currently had would soon come crumbling down, thought otherwise. The words left your lips so quickly you didn’t even have time to second guess them. But it was almost like he wasn’t surprised by your questions at all. Instead, his shoulders sagged and his attention left you and focused on the floor while he walked to sit in front of you.

But he didn’t respond.

He didn’t even look up from his lap. He just fiddled with his fingers, intertwined and resting on his knees, knees that were brushing up against your own due to the close proximity of your bodies. The lack of eye contact was enough to lead you in the direction you never thought you’d have to think about.

“Harry. Did you sleep with her?” long gone was your quiet question, instead the loud sob of a plea left your lips.

“I - I don’t know.”

Never in a million years did you ever expect to have heard those words fall from Harry’s mouth. He was someone you trusted with every bone in your body and was the only person you could ever imagine a true future with. The person you looked forward to telling all about your day, who you would rather soak in a bath with than go to red carpets or galas. He was your person, yet here he was, demolishing every ounce of confidence you had in your relationship.

“...you don’t….know?”

“I - no.” he sighed, finally looking up at your eyes. “I was out with the guys and we had a lot to drink, we thought we finished the album, and were celebrating. I just - I didn’t stop when I knew I should have and - and I don’t remember the rest of the night.”

“When was this?”

“Beginning of the summer. After we got here from London.”

Rage replaced any former sadness when you heard his words. “That was three weeks ago Harry!”

“I know.” he was acting like a sad puppy with his tail between his legs. If it were any other circumstance, you’d be trying to comfort him and make the painful sadness in his voice go away, but you could only focus on how angry you were at him.

“Three weeks! What, were you just not going to ever tell me? Just pretend it didn’t happen and let me go on thinking everything was fucking fine and dandy?” he’d never seen you this angry, and being on the receiving end of it was sure to be disturbing, but how else were you supposed to act after hearing the love of you life potentially slept with someone else?

“No! No, obviously I wasn’t going to keep it from you but -”

“Obviously nothing, Harry! I had to find out that you slept with someone on a bloody magazine cover!”

“I didn’t sleep with her!”

“You don’t know if you slept with her! There’s a huge difference, Harry!”

How someone could even begin to rationalize what he potentially did was beyond you. You couldn’t fathom spending so long with someone and throwing it all away because of one night out with your friends. How you could disregard not only someone you claimed to love, but also the precious little girl that was created out of the love you shared.

“Five years, Harry. We’ve been together for five years, did that mean nothing to you? Did all the time we spent together mean nothing? The things we’ve seen together and secrets we shar-” you hadn’t cried so hard in a long time, but there was no use trying to bottle it all in. He deserved to see what his choice had done to you, and by the way his head was being cradled in his hands, you knew it was hitting him.

“Maybe that’s just it! We’ve been together since we were eighteen, Y/N! Maybe I’m fucking bored!”

When you woke up that morning, the thought of having to deal with the tabloids wasn’t something you even remotely thought would happen, but you could get through it, you always did. For years, they tore you and the band down, picked apart every decision you ever made and spread blatant lies, but you always got through it. You could get through it because you knew everything was a lie and you had the people you cared about most on your side.

This time, you didn’t even have that.

How were you supposed to combat the media and their hateful words, when the person in question was basically admitting they had fallen out of love with you. That every minute of the last five years meant nothing because they were now bored. Over all the intimate moments you shared and words you can’t take back. That pretty much signified the end, and there was nothing you could do about it.

The shock of what he said must have come crashing down on him, because instantly, he was trying to move closer to you, to grab your hands and make you look at his pleading eyes.

“No! No no no no, listen to me, Y/N, that wasn’t -”

But you couldn’t listen anymore. You’d had your heartbroken more times in the last twenty minutes than you had in years, and you couldn’t handle anymore. It was a feeling you had promised yourself a long time ago that you wouldn’t put yourself through again, and even if the person before you was the man you had given your entire heart and soul to, you wouldn’t wait around for him to feel the same thing.

So, you pushed his hands away.

You pushed away all of his own emotions, all of his pleading for you to come back and listen to him, and you walked away. If being in the public eye for so long had taught it anything, it was that you deserved more than what was given to you at times. Just because everyone around the world seemed to think they had a say in your life choices, doesn’t mean you should disregard what you know is best for yourself. And standing here, listening to the man you loved more than anything, say that he may have fallen out of love with you, wasn’t the best for you.

“Baby please, I’m sorry! You know I didn’t mean that.” the tears on his face were apparent even without turning around, the thickness of his voice doing enough explanation on its own.

“Do I, Harry?” you whispered, turning around so bleary eyes could meet. “Because I thought I knew everything about you, but I never thought we’d end up here.”

Without saying a word, you wiped your cheeks and made the decision to put yourself first. If you stayed any longer, more words that couldn’t be taken back would be said, only burying you deeper and deeper in a whole neither of you wanted to be a part of. You’d never been one for walking away when things got tough, because letting things fester always made it worse. However, this was something you needed time away from.

And there was no one to blame but Harry and his wandering hands

[tiaraofsapphires]

prince cassian & smuggler jyn (like han and leia) pls?

Boy oh boy did I do a thing…instead of a drabble this turned into a fic just shy of 3000 words (I also kinda probably tweaked this from what the prompter probably intended but….eh. It’s fine.) (EDIT: NSFW)

Title:mydarling, i’ll tuck your name under my tongue

Summary:It’sbeneath his station, what he was doing. Cassian couldn’t bring himself to care.

Read it here on Ao3

Drabble (in theory) Prompts for Rebelcaptain are still (tentatively) open but there is a line!

Cassian could already hear Kay telling him how stupid andirrational he was being. The man, Cassian’s attendant and closest friend, madesure to tell him that at every chance he could. Words that always fell on deafears.

Risking his safety by leaving the palace unescorted, to oneof the shittiest areas of the capital city, to meet with a criminal.

Well, ‘meet’ was a loaded phrase. It made what he was doingsound more innocent than it was.

This was his secret, his indulgence that broughtsatisfaction and pain in near-equal measures.

He dressed in plain clothes, as plain as a prince couldmanage. The jacket and boots, to the trained eye, would give away that he hadmoney or that he stole the items from someone who had money.

Nobody would notice that the heir-apparent of the Festanthrone was wandering the streets, ducking around stalls and children andbeggars. Dusk was falling, casting shadows over everything, making his identityharder to pin down.

Not that anyone really knew his face. His parents were theones in the spotlight, unwilling to let their son to be subject to scrutiny.Fest wasn’t that wealthy or powerful a nation to begin with, the monarchsnear-figureheads in the face of the Parliament.

Still, the ransom of a prince would definitely be ofinterest to some of the characters who lurked in the shadows.

While he was a prince, it didn’t mean he didn’t know how todefend himself. He wouldn’t have dared come out all this way if he didn’t. Theblaster tucked in his waistband and the vibroblade tucked in his boot were hissecurity and he knew how to use them.

Down an alley in the south side of the city, where theground was cracked and split and the buildings were claustrophobically crammedtogether and stretched to the heavens.

The second to last door on the left.

The bartender, Saw, nodded when Cassian entered.

It had bothered Cassian that Saw remembered him, but hewould be a fool not to. Cassian was in there at least once a week, never stoppingby the bar to have a drink, instead going up the stairs in the back to therented rooms.

One of the only good things about this place was that therewere very few people who stuck around for more than a couple of days, neveraround long enough to see the pattern of a prince sneaking around. Cassianremembered those who stayed, permanent fixtures under the low light.

There were the blind man and his bodyguard who always stuckto the righthand corner of the bar. That was a constant. The blind man alwaysseemed to find him with his sightless eyes and would smile knowingly. That toowas a constant.

Cassian wasn’t sure what the blind man knew and could neverfind the courage to ask.

Instead, he just walked past and up the stairs.

He could hear the sounds of snoring and sex through the thinwooden doors as he walked to the last door down the hall. There was nobody buthim out there, no one to recognize him, no one to know his secret.

Knock once, pause for a beat, knock twice in succession.

Quick footsteps met his ears before the door opened, justenough for him to slip inside.

He turned to her as she glanced at the door, closing andlocking it. Then she looked to him. Her stare always seemed to pin him down. Itwas like he wasn’t able to hide anything from her.

Relief crashed over him to see her, breath catching in histhroat. She was here. She was alive and unharmed, from what he could see. Shedidn’t leave in the night, with no way for him to find her.

Though she had known he was coming, she was dressed like shewas about to see a client. Her brown hair was in a messy ponytail.

Nondescript, utilitarian clothes, ready to blend into acrowd and disappear. Her belt looped around her hips, holster carrying herfavorite blaster.

She always looked like she was ready to run and fight.

There were at least half a dozen places in the room whereshe hid weapons for easy access and those were only the ones Cassian knewabout.

She had made a name for herself, and that made enemies.

Though the name was not her name.

Cassian knew the truth: that famed smuggler Liana Hallik wasactually Jyn Erso, daughter of a nobleman from a kingdom miles and miles away.A nobleman who held court to a tyrant, but a nobleman all the same.

Neither of them spoke, only watched each other.

He shrugged off the small bag slung over his shoulder andset it on the rickety chair pushed to wall next to the door. In it was somewine and rice and cheese and a small bag of credits.

It wasn’t out of charity or pity. It was of a lover’sconcern. To make sure she didn’t go hungry. It helped him sleep at nightknowing that she had the money for food and pay her rent.

He didn’t want to think about the things she might have todo if the money ran out, having to go further than smuggling.

Later, when he lay in bed alone in the palace and tried notto think about the woman who dominated his thoughts, paranoid thoughts—in Kay’svoice, of course—would worm in, wondering if she was taking advantage of him.That she was letting him into her bed for the credits, gaining his trust tobetray him later.

But, now, that didn’t matter.

He was in too deep.

Jyn stepped forward until there were mere inches betweenthem, enough that she had to tilt her head up a little to keep eye contact.

“I thought you weren’t going to make it,” she said, like shewas scolding him.

It was easy banter, something he could find in few people.

He shrugged with a levity he didn’t feel. “Wouldn’t miss itfor the world.”

Cassian wasn’t sure who moved first, but they met with aclash of lips and a flurry of hands, sloppy and possessive.

It had been a few days, almost a week, since they last saweach other. It felt like forever.

Jyn sighed against his mouth, a tiny pleased thing thatCassian refused to forget, and pressed the lines of their bodies together.

Home was a gilded palace that lost its glimmer by the yearas slowly the money was leeched out. Home was a mother and father who tried tomake his upbringing as normal as possible, making sure he knew the ways of theworld as well as to fight.

Home was also in Jyn’s arms, in a rundown motel in theshadows of the capital city.

She smelled like cheap soap, hands rough and calloused wherethey rucked up his shirt and skimmed over the skin of his back.

He always felt so soft and posh in comparison to her. Shewould tease him about it, sometimes. The pampered and groomed prince with thetough and world-worn smuggler.

Other times, she would bury her face in the crook of hisneck and make some comment about the cologne he was wearing, then chase thepretty words with a wicked bite that could only just be hidden by his shirt.

Their clothes hit the ground at random intervals, his jacket,her belt, as they stumbled the short distance to her bed. The signs of theirstatus were stripped, prince and smuggler turned to simple lovers.

Hands and lips found the revealed skin, claiming andgrasping.

With a small push, Jyn was on her back and the mattresscreaked in protest.

Cassian knelt at the edge of the bed, pulled Jyn forward soher legs were draped over his shoulders.

He kissed a line up her right inner thigh, stopping justbefore her cunt, then kissed a line up the left. She liked the way his facialhair scratched and tickled against her skin, something Cassian exploited asoften as he could.

When Jyn bucked up with an impatient noise, Cassian leanedforward and spread her with his fingers, licking a stripe over her.

He worshiped her with his mouth and let his hands roam overwherever he could reach. Jyn moaned and sighed above him and raked her fingersthrough his hair.

He loved this, being able to do this for her. Gods knew howmany times he touched himself thinking of Jyn, of everything about her.

He could probably get off on this alone, having his mouth onher. He was painfully hard between his legs, practically bobbing against hisstomach, but he didn’t care about touching himself.

This, this was all he needed.

One finger, then two, pushed into her tightness, stretchingher open.

Jyn whispered encouragements into the still air. Her handstightening and softened where they gripped at his hair, just shy of painful.

He knew she liked it hard and fast, so that’s what he did.He sucked at her clit, one hand fingerfucking her, curling just right, whilethe other held her thigh and kept her spread open for him.

She bucked and writhed, half-formed pleas spilling out ofher mouth. She sat up on shaky arms and met his eyes.

Jyn’s cheeks were flushed and her lip was caught between herteeth. Cassian groaned at the sight, the vibrating over her clit.

With a wordless cry, Jyn stiffened and went boneless and herthighs around Cassian’s head. He eased her through her orgasm by peppering herskin with light kisses and slowly moving his fingers in and out of her.

“Please fuck me,” she breathed, reaching forward and down tocup his cheek.

Not one to keep a lady waiting, Cassian stood and closed thesmall amount of space between them. Jyn moved farther into the bed and hefollowed to rest between her spread legs.

Their mouths met languidly, Jyn could probably taste herselfon his lips.

His body covered hers and he was greedy for it, for everypiece of skin he could reach.

Jyn hooked her leg around his hip, pressing her heat oh soclose to his hardness and with a hidden strength they were flipped so Jyn wasstraddling him.

Cassian opened his mouth to say something smart, but endedup groaning like a wounded man when Jyn lined him up with her opening and sankdown with a sinful roll of her hips.

“Jyn,” he breathed and she shivered above him.

Their true names were always exchanged like secrets, likeprayers. Just loud enough for the other to hear.

“Cassian.”

He bucked into her, jolting her just enough to draw a cryout of her mouth.

Jyn leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest, andstarted to move.

She rode him like she was born to do it, each time she sankdown on him was exquisite agony.

Cassian braced his feet against the mattress and thrust upto meet her. His hands roamed, sometimes gripping her hips, sometimes strokingover her skin.

He cupped one of her breasts and rolled the nipple betweenhis fingers and grinned as it startled a whimper out of her.

This was desperate, a desperate coupling between two peoplewho didn’t know how much time they had.

It seared in Cassian’s blood, the need to bring Jynpleasure, the utter yearning to tuck her inside himself where she would besafe.

The latter was impossible, pride and circumstance making itso he couldn’t protect her from everything this life could throw at her.

He could do the former.

Cassian threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling herin for a kiss, as he brought his free hand down to where they were joined.

Jyn sobbed against his mouth as he rubbed tight circlesagainst her clit, still thrusting back in a frantic race to completion.

She broke the kiss to look at him with green eyes misty withlust. She breathed his name, over and over like a litany, as she shook apartabove him.

One day, he hoped against hope, that she would be able toscream his name, with no heed to secrets and danger.

He fell off the precipice shortly after, groaning Jyn’s nameinto her collarbone, spilling inside of her.

Gently, he helped ease her off of him and she flopped nextto him. Still touching, as they caught their breath and their heartbeatsslowed.

The reality of their situation crept in slowly, still usingborrowed time.

The knowledge that he should leave pulled at him, leavebefore people noticed he was gone and come looking for him. It was a risk, everymoment he stayed. He couldn’t expose her. She stayed hidden, changed her name,for a reason. The reason came to him in snippets, in the afterglow, during ashared meal: a tale of death and betrayal and struggle. It was a good reason,and, no matter how he felt, he couldn’t fault her for hiding in the shadows,living a criminal’s life.

He didn’t want to leave. Her bed was better than any thronethis world could offer him, somewhere he wanted to stay until the world ended.

He braced himself on one arm, enough so he was just hoveringover her face. He kissed everywhere he could reach.

Then he pulled back, so he could watch her again.

“I wish you could come back with me,” he said.

She smiled sadly, eyes overly bright. Her fingers brushedover Cassian’s cheek, and the urge to stay there forever wormed its way deeperinto his chest.

He really did. He wished every day that he could bring herback to his home. This woman, who helped him in a time of need, when he neededhelp to protect his family, his nation. This woman, who bickered and jabbed andannoyed the ever-living hell out of him every step of the way. This woman, whocould drink anyone under the table, sung painfully beautifully, and could sneakanything anywhere for the right price.

She took his heart and he wasn’t sure he wanted it back.

“One day, maybe.”

He swallowed around a lump, wishing he could find a truth inthat lie.

“Will you be here? In five days?”

Jyn exhaled through her nose, bitterness twisting her face.

“I have a job in Jakku. Got a scavenger and her littlecircus to back me up. If it goes well, I’ll be back in eight days. Longer, ifit doesn’t.”

Cassian nodded, panic and concern like iron fists around hisheart, though his expression stayed relatively neutral.

He never liked the idea of her leaving the city, much lesstaking a job where even she knew there was a chance she could get hurt orkilled.

There was no point in telling her not to go. He had triedthat once, back when he thought his feelings for her were limited to concern ofa friend and not anything else. That ended in a shouting match, whichunexpectedly turned to him pressing her against the wall and kissing her likehe would die if he didn’t.

Cassian eased himself out of bed and got dressed, delayingthe inevitable as much as possible. Just being in the same room as her feltlike a balm on his soul.

He put himself back together, making it look on the outsidelike nothing had happened. His hair probably still looked a bit like a mess, nomatter how many times he combed his fingers through it.

He sat back down on the bed as soon as he was done, ignoringJyn’s protests about him putting his dirty clothes on her bed, as if theyweren’t just fucking on it minutes earlier.

Cassian reached out and touched her face, committing eachdetail to memory.

“Come back to me, okay?” he asked, feeling a bit like achild asking for reassurance, a steady hand. He had little right to ask her,but he did anyway.

She nodded solemnly, kissing the palm of his hand.

“I will.”

Jyn was the strongest person he knew. She would try to comeback, as uninjured as possible. And he had made it clear that if she everneeded help, she could come to the palace. He would let her in, take care ofher. He knew she would never take that offer, but he felt better knowing thatshe had that option.

He hated this feeling of helplessness.

Jyn’s expression didn’t change when he stood up and startedfor the door.

Each step brought them farther away from each other.

This could be it. Cassian might never see her again. Shecould die on this job or leave for a distant land. He could die at the hands ofan assassin, an agent of an enemy government.

If this was the end, would she know how much she meant tohim? Would she understand?

Cassian turned back before he could think better of it. Shehad been watching him from the bed, a terribly wistful expression on her facethat didn’t evaporate fast enough when he saw her.

It brought him some twisted sense of hope, that she wasfeeling something similar.

“I love you,” he said, meaning every word, knowing it wasbetter not to leave this sort of thing unsaid.

It hung in the air a bit like a death knell for a beat.

Then, Jyn smiled, this time a bit happier, a bit brighter,and it felt like a balloon was expanding in Cassian’s chest.

“I know.”

[rykerelias-archive]

TRANSFERRED FILE. || @suburbanrelapse  Sage & Elias VERSE: modern. ( undercover. ) 001. THREAD: to be named.

“What made you change your mind?” Not that they’re complaining- they’ve been trying to convince him they wanted in for weeks. Not that they were eager to be used as a call girl for various pieces of shit around the city, but getting in was the only way to move up. Only way to take this thing down from the top. “You seemed pretty adamant about refusing me the last few times we met.”

    HE hadn’t changed his mind.  HE still wanted them to stay well away and clear from the Devlin’s and their ��business’.  Hell HE wanted to stay well and clear away from the Devlin’s and their business – but he didn’t have a choice.  Not if he wanted to see them ACTUALLY brought down, once and for all, to put their drug-dealing, sex-trafficking skeazy asses behind bars.  And to do that… he had to do things like this.  And act like it was no big thing.  Just another day, another dollar in his pocket.  He didn’t dare let himself think about what it meant that he COULD.  That was a rabbit hole he didn’t dare even tip toe towards.   “What can I say, you’ve got aSTUBBORN AS SHIT sense about you I just couldn’t resist.”  More along the lines of his bosses had figured out that Sage wanted in, and there were more than a few creeps that would be paying TOP dollar to get their hands on them….  “So, you in or not cause I don’t particularly feel like going through the whole spiel if you’re not.”  

“I’m in. I know what kind of money this can make me- you think I’d turn that down?” They make enough where they are, but it’s a good enough excuse. Sage knows perfectly well that they cater to a particularly niche market for the depraved clientele of this service. It’s disgusting, really, the extent to which people can fetishize people like them. But it sells, and that’s their in. Not to mention the deliciously ironic sense of satisfaction that comes from the idea of exploiting it to kill them. “I’m comfortable enough being seen this way, might as well take the step up if it comes with a pay raise.” They shrug, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. “So say what you have to say, and let’s get started. I don’t have anything better to be doing tonight.”

  Her words twisted his stomach, a hand sliding up to rub against the bridge of his nose, to scrape up through hair that had grown a little too long over the last couple months and he just hadn’t been bothered enough to care.  Money – one of the greatest evils of the world, the worst kind of addiction there was. Don’t have it, and it’s everything. Have it, and it’s not enough.   He let his tall frame drop back against the wall, his hands dropping into his hoodie to snag his own pack of cheap ass, always half crumpled smoke, pulling one out, Zippo snapped open and flicked on, held out towards theirs first before lighting his own.  

    “This shit’s not like the movies.”  It was brusque, CLIPPED.  It was an easy trap, to make it seem romantic and luxurious somehow, when really it was about the opposite of it as one could get.  “These assholes, they might play at wining and dining you, but – they only give a fuck about one thing, and that’s getting their jollies – and it ain’t always fun and games.   Some of these people …   Sure. I’m probably supposed to tell you that you won’t ever have to do anything you don’t want to but it’s a load of horse shit.”  Way blunter, way more to the point than he should’ve been.  Should’ve gone the sweet talking route, promised them  money and glory and fame, work six months and you’ll never have to work again.   But if they backed out now, it’d be easy enough to come up with some excuse, even if it meant having Marius breathing down his neck in vexation for all the potential money lost.  

They light their smoke on his offered flame, stepping back as they take the first drag. “Oh, I’m well aware of how it works- I’m not delusional, I’m just looking for work. But considering it’s either crawl back to my brother or do a little bit of hustling in this line, I’ll take the latter.” Not even that much of an exaggeration; Reed would love to see them come running back for support. They really would rather sell themself to strangers than go near him again, that much isn’t a ruse.

“I could do this on my own. Stand around on a corner, pull in clients from tourists and the like- but you lot have connections. You have a network and a Rolodex and the numbers of all the big wigs willing to pay top dollar for a little bit of attention with me. They’re gross, but they’re rich.” Sage shrugs. If it makes their… acquisitions of illicit substances a little easier, who are they to complain? Revenge and cocaine. Motive enough to dip into the prostitution game in their book. “Bottom line is, I’ve done some questionable things for free in my lifetime. I have eccentric tastes, and I know I have a… unique product to offer for your client base. I might as well start getting paid better for it than I do just taking pictures.”

  The way that they were so MATTER OF FACT about the whole thing didn’t help his mood much, though luckily the part he was playing didn’t exactly scream chipper and cheerful, or necessarily all that clever, either.   He bit back a grimace behind a cloud of smoke, a shrug thrown in their general direction like it was no sweat off his back one way or the other.   “Can’t really argue the logic, there, can I.” Half flat, an assessing glance given back their way, taking in the look, the build, the features.  The appeal was easy to see, even from his point of view. He could onlyIMAGINE the kind of plans Maria had in store for them – his gaze twisted away, a hand shoved into his jeans as he pushed himself off the wall, dragging his keys from his pocket.  

    “Rules are simple enough.  Don’t get caught doing whatever it is you’re doing, and if you do, you don’t know nothin’.   Dates are handled up the food chain, covered through an online dating app, hookups put in the system after the arrangements have been finalized – any money that gets handed off is a gift, not a payment.  If you do get tagged, there’s lawyers on standby to handle whatever trouble you can’t talk your way out of – you’ll have a handler at every meet, meaning if you get tagged, the lawyer’ll be at the station before you do.  Best rule of thumb, you mind your own business, you collect your money, you go home. Don’t open your trap about anything you hear, anything you see. PERIOD.”  

   It was cold, and sharp, the last word, though the rest of it he’d seemed no more invested in than if he was ordering pizza, though he was watching them to make sure they were paying attention.  “Whether it’s to the cops, the papers, the tabloids, you get any shiny ideas about making a quick buck by selling out your latest date with a few salacious pics, or a hashtag on twitter?  It won’t end well.”  A stoniness around his eyes for a moment, gone, just as quickly, as he loped towards the parking lot, chirping the alarm on the fire engine red Chevrolet Corvette – sleek and shiny and fast, and far from subtle.  There were a … FEW perks of the job.  “Get in. I’ll take you to one of the clubs we shuffle business through.  Have a few drinks, maybe get to know a couple of the other girls, see how the night goes.”

Sage listens, but only bothers retaining what might be useful in either self-defense, or in faking their way into the business. Of course, they’re not stupid; they know they’re going to have to play the part for a little while. Sleep with some clients, do what they ask, behave (or don’t, depending on the partner), and don’t let anyone suspect that they have ulterior motives for crawling deeper into the underworld. They drop the half-finished cigarette in the parking lot.

Following him across the asphalt, Sage doesn’t bother correcting him. The ‘other girls-’ as far as the clients care, that’s what they are. Just a girl. Maybe some different parts in different places, but still. Just a girl. No room for anything too unique when it comes to jobs like this. They slide into the car, glad that they decided to dress the part for this meeting. It’s not their Sunday best, but it will more than pass for a prostitution networking party. Highlighting the right features, downplaying any faults. Not that they have many of those. Speaking of features, they should probably get something out of the way.

“You know I’m not…” they speak as soon as the handler is in the car with them. “-I’m not cis, right? I don’t know how much you know about me, and I don’t know how much you’re involved in the detail work, but I don’t have all the same assets working for me that the other girls you deal with do. I mean, I’m sure plenty of them have my fake tits, but I don’t have any work done downstairs- and I don’t intend to. So fair warning, in case you were thinking of getting closer acquainted with me while we’re working together, don’t be fucking surprised if you try anything.” They end it with a laugh at his expression, keeping the mood light despite the explicit content. “Just thought you should know.”