#hatching a plot over here

[buckyschair]

i’m 6 pages into writing part 2….. all they have done is bump into each other at a party. i need to learn some new words like: brevity

ILLICIT AFFAIRS

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: On a dreaded visit to the Hewn City, Azriel finds more than he bargained for. It’s only fitting that when your wildest fantasies come true in a land of nightmares, it's with a forbidden visitor rather than your own husband… After all, who could be a better affair partner than the master of spies? 

A/N: Cheating is wrong! But aesthetically? It’s so rich! Can you tell I’ve been listening to ‘Scotty Doesn’t Know' on repeat? And thanks to other songs like ‘Ivy’ and ‘Illicit Affairs’, an illicit relationship just sounded sexy and sad! So here’s a messy little story about cheating WITH Azriel. Let me know what you think of the reader character, I tried to make her unlikeable at first but then I became sympathetic to her so idk where we ended up.

Content Warnings: 18+ only, smut, cheating, alcohol, female reader, shitty unnamed husband (not physically abusive), slight dom/bdsm overtones, casual shadow bondage, thigh riding, oral M receiving, PIV sex (no protection bc they are faeries and this is fiction, but put on your mental magic condom if you must), gross liberties taken with whatever’s going on with the Hewn City, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 7.6k

Masterlist

✸✸✸ 

Wine. A warm bath. Silk sheets. 

“Did you see her shoes? With that jewelry?”

Your sapphire hand mirror. A lobster bisque. The perfect shade of red lipstick. 

“Oh, did I see them? They practically assaulted me the moment I walked into the hall!”

You took a sharp breath, and continued to block your surroundings with mental images. A massage. The look on your husband’s face when he sees you chatting with another male–

“She has no shame.”

You snorted, abruptly disguising it with a cough. The two ladies looked at you with barely concealed disdain, clearly not convinced by your weak cover up. You schooled your features into a cool mask once more as they drifted away through the throng of guests. 

Well then, so much for keeping yourself entertained during this dull gala. You had a pretty pathetic collage of curios to distract yourself with. The concepts were a flimsy screen between you and the stale evening ahead; monotony at its worst. 

You’d rather be anywhere but here. 

A foolish thought, you realized, given that you’d never been anywhere but here, except for brief diplomatic visits with your husband. Those were always awfully dull, your every movement watched and examined out of suspicion. You couldn’t blame your hosts. After all, you were from the Night Court, spawn of the worst bastards of Prythian. 

No shame! You recalled the gossiping courtiers. Now who were they to judge someone for having no shame, when they were here gossiping in front of the Mother and everyone? And in equally appalling finery, no less! One of the two females was actually trying to get away with a bright orange dress. You sighed, almost pitying her for her sorry attempt. 

But this was the Hewn City, at the heart of the Court of Nightmares, as it was deemed in hushed whispers. There wasn’t enough air here to waste it on pity. 

Faeries of all kinds waltzed and chattered around the ballroom before empty thrones. Gaudy gowns and coats and heels and stoles– was that fur? Mother help us– blurred together as you took in the choked crowd. The decadent buffet? Untouched. The sparkling beverages? Much indulged. Such was typical. 

What was the purpose of this event? You couldn’t quite recall. They were endless, these damned things. 

What an odious affair. You’d been playing a game in your mind, to keep yourself from going mad. The goal was to picture all your favorite things, everything that brought you solace, and to try and hold them all in your mind at once. 

Pointless, you chided yourself. It hadn’t stopped you from being disturbed by the insidious chatter of fellow partygoers. Despite the pleasant premise of the mental game, the montage left a bad taste in your mouth. 

You had pictured everything that you looked forward to, and it had all taken up so little space. The game was ended so quickly. Your lips pursed, your good mood gone sour. You blamed the two females for interrupting your train of thought. They’d ruined your concentration, that was it. 

You needed a drink. Your glass had been empty for far too long, you noted with displeasure. 

Where was your husband anyways? He’d gone off for refreshments a while ago. Probably mixing with the elite, making sure his face was seen. He fancied himself a real big player in the court's inner workings, but you sincerely doubted it. Unfortunately, as the one he fucked most frequently for a number of years there, you knew firsthand how his ego was built on fantasy. 

How long had he left you alone here? You couldn’t say. You weren’t exactly minding his absence. Temporary bliss was still bliss, you mused, resolving to find some real entertainment. You clicked your tongue once in distaste before gliding away from the pillar where you’d been camped out for the majority of the function. 

Your husband always laughed at how you admired the fabrication of the city. But you couldn’t resist it. The pillar behind you was one of your favorites. Carved of dark stone, hordes of twisting figures decorating its face. They appeared to be in agony at first glance. A closer look revealed that they were in fact artfully engaged in all kinds of fornication. If only all pain could be turned into pleasure as easily as carving ebony. 

Fuck, if you weren’t in a philosophical mood this evening. Sober, too. 

Your husband was nowhere to be seen, a small mercy. He always hated your moods. You couldn’t blame him, you supposed, but you did regardless. 

  Right as you made it to a servant with a decanter of amber liquid, the room fell into an uncharacteristic hush. Your fingers plucked a full glass before you turned to scan the room for the cause.

Your eyes fell on the figures advancing from the center of the room as if they’d just appeared there. But of course, they had.

You scolded yourself as you glimpse the High Lord and his entourage. 

Of course! How could you have forgotten? After all, that was why your husband had been so insistent on your attending tonight. The High Lord had specifically requested this event be thrown to honor… shit. Something. They did so many of these meaningless parties, often without any real reason, other than to show off that they could. 

Your attention turned fully to the newcomers. They cut quite a fine figure. You understood why they caused the room’s collective breath to catch. 

A subtle movement to the right of the High Lord grabbed your eye. You couldn’t help your own sharp intake of breath as you noticed the shadows flickering around the imposing Illyrian. In his leathers and simmering blue siphons, there was no mistaking him. It was the shadowsinger. 

A thrill escaped down your spine at the realization. You’d heard hushed whispers about the High Lord’s spymaster, but you hadn’t known that he would be here tonight. His menacing quiet was unnerving. It was no wonder that rumor spoke of a seething rage masked by his calm demeanor. He never visited the city under the mountain these days. You wondered absently what he was doing here now. 

He held himself with precision, a weapon at the right hand of his Lord. His wings were folded tightly, but it did little to hide their looming presence. The horns hovering over his shoulders only added to his threatening presence. Beneath his wings, his broad shoulders were relaxed, his demeanor casual as he strolled with cool power to stand beside the throne. Once stationed, he crossed his arms, his muscles emphasized with little effort. Fuck. What you wouldn’t do to feel them over you. 

Irritation simmered across your chest as your husband sidled up to you, your budding fantasy shattered. 

He didn’t so much as look at you as he shoved a glass in your direction. You received it with equal affection, now awkwardly holding two glasses. His attention rested fully on the group by the throne. What an ass. 

The perfume on his coat was a scent you would never choose for yourself; it was far too sweet for your tastes. Your nose curled unconsciously– not at his infidelity, but at his poor taste. You hoped he would never buy you a similar perfume. Let him enjoy it on some other tramp. 

As it was now, his lust was focused on the conversation at the head of the room. The Steward, Keir, motioned to your husband, and incidentally you, as he spoke to his Lord. 

You felt your husband’s excitement, and you were certain it was evident to the blind and the dead as well. You sighed, resigned to the lack of tact that sullied his political sensibilities. He’d been gifted a hunger for power, without the typical tact for courting it. Shameless, the word flashed again in your mind. Yet, you couldn’t deny that he’d secured a decent knowledge of the court’s security in his current position under Keir. 

He practically skipped when the Steward gestured for him, and you followed with a more metered step after passing your now-empty drinks off to a nearby attendant with a grimace. Despite your efforts, you knew that dignity was not something you could afford to value in this court. Still, you kept your chin up as you followed your male counterpart, straining at the stifling society. You drowned out his obsequious remarks as introductions were made between the males. 

You wished the female one was here, the Morrigan. She made your blood freeze, but you preferred her cool disdain to the slimy males before you. You swallowed your irritation, keeping your face neutral as meetings were arranged. 

To cool your mounting headache, you entertained yourself by taking in the shadowsinger out of the corner of your eye. A scant glance rewarded you with a stunning image of the male, who was intently focused on the conversation at hand. His handsome features were darkened with swirling shadows. 

He was even better up close. You’d lost count of the instances where you’d caught a pleasant figure across the room only to be disappointed upon closer inspection. But this male was a specimen, indeed. 

His dark brows trailed into a strong nose, his strong jaw upheld by a sturdy throat, one that you’d love to sink your teeth into. His hands were thick and scarred. You pictured what they could do to you, how meticulously they could pick you apart, stroke by savage stroke. The tough material of his leathers was snug in all the right places, tight around his massive thighs. Your thoughts erupted with fantasy at the details of his statuesque figure. 

What held your attention the most, though, were his eyes. You would expect them to be dark, shadowy. Yet they were a rich amber, and startlingly bright. You flicked your gaze away quickly, but their burn lingered in your ears as if he’d caught your stare outright.  

It was a pity he was just standing there. You wondered absently how you could cause a distraction, maybe fainting or starting a fight so you could see him in action. Your fantasies were interrupted as the conversation wrapped up, your husband butchering platitudes that he surely thought charming. You avoided choking on your disdain, but only narrowly.

As you walked away, Azriel released a deep breath. Cassian cleared his throat, a shit eating grin lurking beneath his cool features. 

You’d kept your face perfectly pleasant throughout the whole interaction, not so much as a twitch to betray your insidious thoughts. But far be it from you to maintain propriety in the presumed privacy of your own mind... 

Little did you know how loud your thoughts were. You couldn’t have hidden them, not from the present company, even if you’d known you ought to. Your thoughts were written in your skin, in your scent, hidden to most, but obvious to the High Lord’s elite. 

“Well, well, Azriel. It’s just irresponsible for you to torture our citizens like that,” Rhys teased his brother as you walked out of earshot, oblivious to the three pairs of eyes taking in your generous retreating figure.  

“I thought I was going to hurl if she didn’t stop undressing you with her eyes,” Cass drawled, fluttering his lashes in a dramatic imitation. 

Azriel just snorted and shook his head. 

“Hey Rhys, remember when Azriel was just a fledgling and couldn’t get any?”

“You mean yesterday? Yes,” Rhys responded with equal humor. “Since when was he the most fuckable?”

“Jealous, much?” Azriel cut in before Cass could continue the vulgar jokes.

“You could do worse,” Rhys said suggestively, amusement playing underneath his carefully arranged expression. 

Azriel hummed. “I think I’d better do some recon later tonight, what do you think?” The boys grinned at that, Cassian hiding his snicker from the room behind his hand.

It was easy for Azriel to take their jeering in good humor when his ego had been rubbed just right by your attention. His eyes found you again in the crowd, your figure filling out your dress in a way that was downright sinful. He couldn’t wait for this damned event to be over. 

✸✸✸

Your husband, the idiot that he was, wasn’t a fool. So, he had Azriel’s room heavily guarded and warded that evening. 

Which was exactly why Azriel found it so simple to steal his way into your quarters, with the guards conveniently occupied elsewhere.  

The dark was especially thick as he crept down the halls of the Hewn City’s elite. He hated to spend a night here, wasted in the dank underbelly of a mountain. The event had passed without incident, if only barely. It was only a thinning scrap of discipline that kept him from lashing out at Keir. His greasy tone had Azriel’s fist curling around Truthsinger all night. If he was being honest, it was only his respect for Mor’s claim on her own father’s life that held his blade. 

That blade stayed sheathed even now, as he slipped soundlessly into your dwelling. It was almost insulting how easily the wards and locks were bypassed. 

Azriel found you exactly where his shadows had anticipated, curled up on a cushioned chair in front of a roaring fireplace. A needless extravagance, given the magic that heated the whole city. 

You were still in your dress from the ball, edible as ever, and your hair has been let down. His eyes trailed the mussed locks around your throat as you swallowed a mouthful from a crystal cut glass. You set your drink down on the low table beside you. 

His silent steps faltered as he spotted a second glass, lightly sweating in the warm air. Was your husband home after all? 

As his shadows moved soundlessly to canvas the apartment, you paused with your hand still on your drink. 

It took every inch of Azriel’s discipline to keep his composure as you turned to face him. He shuddered at the sparks roiling in your expression. 

You'd been expecting him. 

“It’s considered polite to knock, you know,” you stated. He was frozen, pinned under your unexpected gaze. Your eyes raked over his tall figure, drinking him in with barely concealed desire. His fingers twitched. 

“And it’s impolite to stare,” he shot back. 

You smiled at that, teeth glowing sharp in the firelight. 

“Touché.”

He drifted further into the room, his shadows skirting around the perimeter, flanking you as he approached. The fire dampened at his power permeating the air. You didn’t even bother pretending to flinch.

“Have a drink with me,” you invited, unperturbed. “Or would that be improper, too?”

In reply, Azriel grabbed the spare glass, and knocked it back in one smooth motion. When he set it down, two of his digits stroked the delicate rim gratuitously, his eyes never leaving yours. He snagged your drink from under your fingers and perched above you on the arm of your chair, dauntless as ever. 

He was playing a dangerous game, stealing what wasn’t his. 

“We weren’t introduced,” he began casually as he stared down at you. 

“Oh?” 

“I saw you earlier tonight,” he said, his syllables crisp. “Typically, someone might introduce their spouse to the High Lord and his retinue.”

“Ah,” you said, understanding. “He’s had so much on his mind,” you excused your husband’s lapse in manners with a dismissive wave of your hand. He was many things, but you could never claim him to be poorly mannered. At least not outside the home.  

“Is that what you are to him?” came the reply. “An afterthought?” 

Your silence was answer enough.

He continued, menacingly, “I can’t understand that. I could hardly think of anything else all evening, with you there, and in this outfit.” His eyes bored into your soul, his blunt words making you blush. Not out of embarrassment, but in exhilaration. 

“I can’t say I understand him, either.” You were annoyed at the topic, this was not what you’d expected to talk about with the gorgeous male towering above you. In fact, talking had little to do with your hopes for the evening…

“And where is he tonight?” Azriel pressed. The question was unexpected.

“Privacy is one of the few luxuries I have,” you whispered seductively. 

The shadowsinger scoffed at that, eying the expensive interior where you sat. 

“I doubt that.” 

“Are you calling me a liar?” He levelled you with a look, and waited patiently for a real answer. You swallowed, deciding your pride should learn to live with the truth. “I don’t know where he is. Well, I know the answer is someone’s bed, certainly. But where? With who? I don’t ask anymore,” you admitted.  

Azriel nodded. He wasn’t judging you, you realized. He was just gathering information, calculating. His eyes narrowed as his contemplation clicked.

“So what I’m hearing is that it wouldn’t be terribly untoward, all things considered, if I fucked you in his bed?”

You gasped at his ugly words, even as they sent a shudder straight to your core. His responding smile was a wicked thing, dripping with dark promise. 

 “I saw how you looked at me this evening.” He dipped his head to speak lowly in your ear. “You were practically begging for this.” 

His lips brushed the sensitive shell of your ear as he sat back. Your breaths were dangerously uneven now, your heart was in a riot under your ribs. He looked intimidating above you, the firelight painting him in aggressive shades of crimson. Yet his eyes were like syrup, enticing amber pools oozing with arousal. Dimly, you registered him set his drink aside. 

“What are you going to do about it?” you breathed, hardly trusting your voice. 

His hand came to cup your jaw roughly, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. 

“What would you have me do?” he countered.

“Kiss me.” 

At that, he launched forward to capture your face fully, his mouth meeting yours in a furious kiss. You tasted your husband’s best whiskey on his mouth, and you moaned sinfully at the flavor. He took the opportunity to explore your mouth with his warm tongue. His heady taste ignited a hunger low in your gut. He was unraveling you with precision, your teeth scraping against him messily. 

As he moaned your name, you grinned. You weren’t sure if he’d remember you, after all, but you’d certainly hoped. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he groaned against your mouth. 

“How long has it been?” 

“Centuries? At least,” he guessed. 

Memories flooded you, unbidden, as his rough jaw worked yours, your moans mingling in the hot room. 

He’d been fully grown the last time you’d seen him, of course, but somehow he seemed more mature now. 

It had been a brief encounter, but pleasurable, when you’d befriended the Illyrian ages ago, in the calamity of your youth. You’d never gotten too close to him, you doubted his brothers even knew about you. You were neither of each other’s firsts, but he was certainly a highlight in your sexual history, you now realized with chagrin.  

“You’ve made out well,” he said roguishly. 

“What?” you muttered, confused, before you saw how he was glancing around the place, noting the plush rugs and fine ornaments. “Oh, yeah. They managed to marry me off advantageously after all. It’s cushy,” you shrugged.  

“Impressive work,” he deadpanned. 

“Yeah, well we can’t all be blessed with ungodly strength and good looks.” 

You were shocked when he laughed at your playfulness. You couldn’t recall his grim face laughing, but as you saw it, it felt right on him. Perhaps you’d erased the image. Or maybe he was simply different now.

“Are you calling me handsome?” he flirted lowly, his lips brushing your cheek, as he grinned mischievously. 

“I’m not going to be calling you anything if you keep sitting on your ass! I heard you were watching me all night, and I asked you to do something about it,” you huffed. You were floored that he’d noticed you, that he’d remembered you. 

He growled and kissed you again quickly before pulling you up. You went to lead him to your bedroom, but you didn't make it very far before he had your back pressed against the wall. His kiss was bruising, like he couldn’t believe it was really you, and he needed to make sure. It was a strange sensation, to have an unrecognized dream be realized so viscerally, to be entangled with him again.

Only when your lungs were screaming for air did he pull back; he was as insatiable as you remember. Your breaths came in heavy pants as he held you firmly against the wall of your husband’s living room. 

His leg pressed into your clothed center, and you whined noisily at the contact. His pupils dilated, and he pressed his leg more firmly against your core. Your hands tangled in his hair, and you tugged tightly at his scalp as you felt the pressure right where you needed it. 

“If you do that, I'm going to finish right here,” he growled. His words only thickened the pulse that was building low in your abdomen. 

Effortlessly, he removed your hands from his sensitive scalp and pinned them above your head with his shadows. The position pressed you close to his chest, trapped by his firm body. Your breasts brushed his front, the contact riveting.

He softened his harsh actions by placing warm open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. It was torturous, his teeth scraping over your pulse point.  

“Now,” he purred, “are you going to be a good girl and do as I say?” 

At the moment, you couldn’t imagine doing anything other than his bidding, entranced as you were by his actions. 

“Yes,” you promised. 

“I knew you were smart. On your knees for me, angel.”

He released your hip with a gentle tap. You slid down the wall, your arms still bound above you. He caught your wrists as you kneeled, using them to press you against the wall with one hand. The position wasn’t comfortable, but you paid no mind as you made eye contact with his straining leathers.

You leaned forward to nuzzle the outline of his cock beneath his clothes, mouthing over his tip. He shuddered, his fist tightening on your wrist. 

“Please,” you slurred into him. Your lips continued working along his clothed member.

“Fuck. Listen to you beg for it,” he groaned, his pelvis shifting towards your face involuntarily. He deftly undid his belt, popping it open with one hand. The action was erotic. His nimble fingers made quick work of his leathers. 

When he finally uncovered himself, you moaned at the sight. Consistent with the rest of his anatomy, he was impressive. 

A particularly thick vein had your mouth watering in anticipation. You parted your lips, your tongue falling open, ready for him. He was pretty, and you loved to take pretty things and make them your own. 

He eased his thick head onto your waiting tongue, and groaned deeply at the contact. Your warm mouth was an instant ease to the tension in his head, replacing its pain with a delicious coil in his abdomen. His wings shivered, falling limp as you took him deeper.

His taste was intoxicating, salty and thick. You breathed through your nose, looking up at him through your lashes as you drooled around his girth. One of his hands was braced against the wall, his expression simmering with torment. As your watery eyes met, he moaned at the sight of you crouched under him in your gloriously disheveled state. 

“Fuck, look at you taking me so well. Right where he could walk in and see,” Azriel sighed. 

Your eyes widened at his words. Your cunt throbbed at his obscene comments and you whined. 

“Do you like that? Being such a slut for me?” he laughed, the sound thick with need. 

He moaned again as you began to tongue his length. You traced his thick veins generously before you began to bob your head. Your pulse felt heavy under the pressure of his grip on your hands, pinned to the wall. His hips stuttered as you found a rhythm with your mouth. 

When you pulled off a bit to give special attention to his weeping tip, sucking gently, his free hand came to hold your hair. He shushed your startled noises as he pressed you further onto him. You frantically swallowed, choking as he forced himself down your throat. He held you there for a moment before he began to pump himself into your mouth. 

Gagging at his size, you breathed through your nose in time with his slow thrusts. He groaned, the noise landing painfully in your soaked core. You whined, and the vibration around his girth made him hiss. 

“You look fucking divine on your knees like this,” he praised haltingly. “Doing so well, angel.” 

If your mouth wasn’t occupied, you would have told him how divine he looked too. Even fully dressed, with just his fly popped open, he looked like a walking vice, every inch an indulgence. His hair was tousled from where you’d raked your fingers through it, and his expression was just as unkempt. The labored look on his face was beautiful, even as the pleasure was so depraved. 

He was a practical stranger, and you were sucking him off in your husband's hallway. The priceless carpets would be soaked by the time you were through. 

You relaxed your jaw further, trying to take more of him down your throat. One erratic movement, and your teeth scraped his shaft lightly. 

He hissed, pulling you off of him abruptly. 

“Shit,” he panted. He didn’t sound mad, yet he looked fierce with a sick appetite.  

You tongued his flushed head, apologetic. “Let me finish, I can do it,” you rasped. 

“I know you can, baby,” he assured you, “Fuck, trust me, I know.”

You attempted to lean in for him again, and cried when he held you back. You looked up at him, tears streaking your cheeks. He ran a thumb under your eyes before pressing his thumb to your lips. You sucked him in eagerly, sighing at the slight gratification, teething brattily at his fingernail. His abdomen spasmed at the sight of you so worked up over tasting him. 

“Did my cock make you stupid?” he cooed. “No need to beg, baby, I’ve got other plans for us.”

He pulled you up, kissing you languidly as you pressed against him. Your hip dug into his arousal, sending fresh pleasure through him. He licked the spit from your jaw, moaning at the pure eroticism.

“Want to show me your bed, baby? I promise I'll make it worth your while,” he touted, and his eyes shone deliciously with depravity. 

You grabbed his hand and pulled him along into your lavish bedroom. When you arrived, you twirled around dramatically to gesture at the room, ever the tasteful hostess. 

“As promised…” you present the intimate room. The sapphires on your favorite hand mirror winked at you from your nightstand as you led him towards the silk cushions. 

He hummed in appreciation, pausing to pretend to take in the interior. You blushed, even though you had nothing to hide. Suddenly, you felt vulnerable having him here. 

Finally, his eyes fell to you standing in invitation before him, next to your bed, which was perfectly built for two. His sensual stare sent a rush through you, reigniting your excitement at the delicious affair.  

He brought his hand to brush your hair back, grasping at your scalp. The agonizing male pulled you towards him. His kiss was relaxed this time, his hot tongue meeting yours in a gentle caress. His other hand skimmed your side, exploring from your waist to your hip with infuriatingly gentle motions. 

For a moment, you allowed yourself to enter a daydream: that this was your life. You imagined that his strong, steadying grip was a real embrace. Maybe you’d have stumbled home together after another horrible event, and the whole way you’d both have mocked the ridiculous room full of ridiculous people until they were nothing but a ridiculous memory. He would kiss away the dullness until your soul was brilliant and shining again. 

Suddenly, you were horrified to feel your eyes thickening with tears. 

“Don’t be gentle with me,” you urged him. 

“Need me that badly?” he tried to tease, but his voice was thick with lust. When he reconnected your mouths, his grip was crushing, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in his desperation. 

Despite your wet eyes, you hadn’t really been sad. You’d been empty, absent from your own life. You didn’t need his pity. You needed his fire, a living coal to stoke your own with. 

Here you were in all your wealth, trapped, and embarrassed by your barren, threadbare life. Not even sheets of the highest thread count could cover the rags and shambles of your existence. You were ravenous, you realized, for something to make you feel alive. 

And here Azriel was, like a vision from a different lifetime, kissing you senseless like it was his secret mission all along. 

“I’ve been waiting to do this all night,” he murmured against you. Before you could question his meaning, he was slipping the straps of your dress down your shoulders, his mouth following to taste your freshly exposed skin. 

As your dress pooled around your feet, his growl filled the room with pitch black energy. As his eyes darkened at your nude form, you thanked the Mother that you’d foregone undergarments. 

“Did you know? Did you know that I was going to be there tonight when you put this on?” he breathed, teasing sensually.  

You debated lying, but thought better of it. “No,” you confessed. 

He whistled shortly, “I’m just that lucky.”

He grinned at you before attaching his mouth to your naked flash, his teeth scraping the sensitive flesh of your nipple. 

“You’re perfect,” he remarked between sloppy kisses to your chest. 

You flushed impossibly, floored by his attentions. His soft mouth was expertly working your tits, biting lightly and harshly licking, while his rough hands explored your backside. It felt dangerously like worship, even as he consumed you for his own satisfaction. The ecstasy was twisted; you’d had no idea he was even in your city when you’d dressed for the dreaded evening out with your husband. 

“On the bed,” he commanded, spit shining on his chin when he rose finally from your chest.

You fell back against it, shamelessly watching as he unfastened the straps of his leathers in a torturous spectacle. 

“You’re gorgeous,” you whispered, half to yourself. His wings twitched at that. Pride surged through him as he finally removed the last of his clothing, easy work courtesy of his hastily redone pants. His thick cock slapped to attention at his stomach. Your chest was rising rapidly from your position against the pillows. You looked so comfortable, so enticing. 

“You’re one to talk,” he flirted. You reached for him, intending him to join you. Instead he sat on the edge of the cushion, tantalizingly out of reach. 

“Can you keep your hands to yourself?”

No, you thought. 

“Yes,” you lied aloud. 

His eyes narrowed. Shadows crept from his shoulders to slither up your form. You shivered at their featherlight touch caressing your form. 

When you moved your hand to play with them, you gasped, finding your limbs restrained again under their power. Your arms were above your head, and your legs spread open under you. 

“That’s what you get for lying," Azriel shared sympathetically, as if he wasn’t the one controlling them. You pouted and he clucked placatingly, his hand caressing your ankle. Was he ever going to let you touch him? 

“Come here,” he cooed. He pulled you roughly onto his lap, so you were straddling one of his thick thighs. He kept your hands secured behind your back while his came to grip your hips, steadying you. 

You whined as he flexed his rigid muscles under you. Sweat was already forming a thin sheen across your boiling flesh.

“You didn’t listen, and then you lied,” he listed. “You’re lucky I'm feeling generous tonight, I'm going to let you get yourself off here.”

Your jaw fell open at his words. What? Did he expect you to fuck yourself on his thigh? 

“Well?” he prompted. 

His hand gripping your hip moved to squeeze the flesh of your ass impatiently. Yet you didn’t move, testing him. You weren’t used to this, not getting what you wanted. 

A crack rang through the room as he smacked your ass. You moaned at the sudden contact, pain flaring along with a sudden sense of urgency. Your hips started to move, slowly at first, then with more vigor as you gained the confidence to seek some friction. 

“That’s it, good girl,” he cooed. 

He watched you through heavy eyelids, your breasts bouncing right in his line of sight. When you glanced at his crotch, you saw the evidence of his desire prominently straining against his toned abs. It only fueled your fervor to see how you affected him. 

You looked so fucked out above him, circling your hips desperately on his muscular thigh. His huge hands were secure on your waist to steady you, but he wasn’t actually helping. You grew frustrated, desperate for stimulation, the pressure not nearly enough to soothe the throbbing ache between your legs. 

“Az, please.”

“Hmm?”

“Please touch me,” you begged.

He obliged, but again, not as you’d hoped. His tongue traced swirling patterns over your breasts, and one hand came up to palm them. The touch was maddening, only heightening your sensitivity. Your pussy was soaking his thigh, yet only his gaze deigned to touch your undulating hips. 

“Not there,” you complained in a huff. It was infuriating to be clenching around empty space. 

When he finally brought his rough fingers to your clit, you cried out in relief. Your hips stuttered as he rubbed tight circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Sweat dripped down your spine, muscles in your shoulders and thighs straining as you chased your bliss. Your moans crested as he pressed his textured fingers harshly against you. Right when your release was about to shatter you – his hands abruptly pulled away, forcing you to still your hips. 

“Did I say you could come?” 

His fingers left your form as he growled. You gasped, red faced and panting. The look on his face was predatory, lit with brazen lust. 

“On the floor, on your knees.” 

Dizzy with the broken orgasm, you obeyed awkwardly, his shadows still constricting your hands. The floor bit into your knees, the sting was a jarring sensation in contrast with the arousal that was dripping between your thighs. Despite your discomfort, you were determined to finish what you’d started earlier in the hallway. 

When you leaned in to take his cock into your mouth, he gripped your throat roughly. Your mouth opened on reflex, but he held you there, just out of reach. 

His other hand came to tug heavy strokes at his cock, right in front of your face. He moaned savagely, fixated on the sight of you slick and naked below him. Your back arched at nothing, frantically searching for some friction. 

He looked like a god above you, his shadows swirling deliciously along his powerful form, his wings shaking with pleasure. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and stuck to his sweat-dampened forehead as he panted and pumped himself. 

“I thought you said you were going to fuck me?” you said hoarsely, desperate. 

You saw the challenge land when his molten eyes sharpened. His hand stilled. 

“I don’t remember you being such a brat,” he growled, but his eyes gleamed wickedly. 

He pulled you up for a kiss, his hands coming to play with your ass, massaging viciously. The dull ache between your legs throbbed at his hot touch. 

“And I don’t remember you being such an ass,” you retorted, but your words lacked any real vitriol, eager as you were for his touch. He sensed it, and let your bratty words slide.

“I've missed that mouth almost as much as your tight pussy,” he purred devilishly, unfazed. 

He must have meant it too, since two of his thick digits trailed between your legs while he spoke. There was a gleam in his eyes as he felt your slickness, and it wasn’t humility. 

“So wet, baby,” he muttered. “All this for me?” 

You whined and leaned into his shoulder, shuddering at the teasing stroke. His shadows slipped away from your wrists, leaving no discomfort save for your sore tendons. 

Azriel tapped your ass once, his assured satisfaction putting him in a good humor. 

“Up on the bed for me, angel,” he directed.

His command sent a shiver down your sweat chilled spine, the anticipation heating your skin. You mounted the bed, and he positioned you on your stomach. He pulled a pillow under your hips, kissing your shoulder tenderly. You shook with nerves. Your arousal was seeping down your legs. You’d been waiting for this since you’d seen his unmistakable physique striding through the crowd. 

“That comfortable?” he asked, some care peaking through the haze of his lust.

“Yeah, that’s great.”

“Okay,” he said. “Let me know if I’m being too rough, yeah?”

You nodded eagerly, pressing your chest to the cushions to ease your ass back against him. The towering male ignored your spurring move, instead he pulled you up to your knees for a kiss. 

You couldn’t be mad at him as he captured your lips so tenderly, even as he was unwilling to give you a moment of control. Your body was pulsing with a delicious heat, pressed against his chest, tasting spice and earth on his tongue. 

The Illyrian’s soft lips were depraved, practically sucking at your teeth. His ferocity left you lightheaded, you were helpless under his power. His hard need against your lower back brought your mind to the matter at hand.

“Too scared to fuck me, huh, Az?” you taunted. 

He bit your lip, snarling as you pressed your ass against his throbbing length. 

“This your first time?” you mocked. 

Azriel let out a humorless laugh at that. 

“You’re trouble,” he hissed, grinding his cock against your lower back. You whined at the fiery contact, so close but so far from what you needed. 

“You like trouble,” you grinned.

“I do,” he agreed.

With one last searing kiss, he pushed your shoulders down so that you came to rest on your forearms. He draped your legs over his thighs. The dips between your legs and pelvis burned as he brought your hips up to meet him where he kneeled. 

He dragged his cock along your soaked folds, teasing you. He groaned deeply, the sound landing in your abdomen. Without warning he slammed into you. You bit the pillow deliriously to stifle your moan as he cursed. 

“Shit. I forgot how perfect you were for me, baby,” he purred as you adjusted. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you cried. 

He responded with another groan, and pulled out near fully to ram into you again. You clenched around him involuntarily. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, “you’re gripping me like…” he trailed off into another deep groan, the sound vibrating like a shock through your flesh.

“Faster, Az,” you gasped. 

Something in him snapped when you cried his name. The male began to pound you without restraint. His hands on your hips were sure to leave bruises, but you were far beyond care. His pace was relentless, gone berserk in his lust. His shadows leapt out, suddenly larger than life. The tendrils of shadow felt acutely like an audience, even pressed into the cushions you felt the heat of their attention. 

“That's it, baby,” he growled. His praise made your flesh rise, a whine pitching from your heaving throat. 

“Does he make you feel this good?” The question surprised you, as did the crooked thrill it sent through your teeth. 

“No,” you confessed with a sigh. His resounding gasp died in a strangled moan as you clenched around him at his perverted words. Served him right, you thought, as he destroyed your insides. 

“Say my name,” he commanded suddenly. 

“Azriel!” You barely managed to voice it as you moaned wildly. 

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” he taunted. “I want the whole city to know.”

You screamed his name as he pushed into you with a particularly punishing thrust. His cock scraped your walls agonizingly. It was addicting how he filled you so perfectly. 

His hand came to press up on your lower stomach, and he groaned at the feeling of his cock filling your guts. The pressure had you bucking your hips onto him, chasing the feeling. 

“Look at that,” he murmured, and you weren’t even sure if he intended you to hear. “You’re taking me so well.”

Long gone was the reserved male from the event this evening. He had been replaced by an insatiable double, just as dark but deliciously unrestrained.

The pillow beneath you was a useless anchor amidst the crashing waves of pleasure. Even with your eyes squeezed shut, your senses were a riot. The room filled with your tandem grunts and moans, and the scent of your sex laced the thick air. You felt his mouth on your spine, heat unfurling down your back, and your bones went unstrung under his hot touch. 

The ache in your abdomen had erupted into an ecstatic pulse. Your pleasure mounted as the shadowsinger’s moans became breathier. His hips began to stutter, yet his pace was punishing as ever. He brought two thick fingers to rub fast circles on your throbbing clit as he hurtled towards his release.

“I’m gonna come,” he warned with a salacious whine.

He pulsed inside of you as his thrusts stilled abruptly. You couldn’t help but turn your head and watch as he came undone. It was as satisfying as your own bliss to witness his. 

His eyes were shut tight in ecstasy while the rest of him slackened, his back arching involuntarily as he convulsed. You’d never seen something so jaw achingly erotic in all your days.

Amidst his orgasm, his coarse fingertips never paused their assault against your heat. You arched back onto him, the feeling of his aching member sending you into oblivion. The pressure of his expert hands paired with the erotic sight of him drunk off your core had your release shattering over you. 

The waves of bliss that had been cresting slowly all evening crashed over you all at once in an undeniable blow. It had your body tensing and loosening all at once, your nerves on fire. He worked you through it as you cried, trembling beneath him. 

When your fists eventually unclenched from the sheets, he came to an inevitable halt. He pulled out gingerly, mindful of your present state of hyper sensitivity.  

He kissed your shoulder as he turned you over. He checked you for any damage, just like you were a comrade fallen in battle. You were utterly spent, but unharmed. The exhaustion was gratifying, a welcome ache from an evening much enjoyed.

“That was bliss,” you told him.

“Top shelf, for sure,” Azriel agreed, eyes still dancing over your naked form like he was committing it to memory. 

His face was pleasantly unguarded as he spoke. Something suspiciously like a smile played on his swollen lips. The spymaster’s features were surprisingly easy, decompressed as he was in the aftermath of such cataclysmic delight. 

You had been the perfect diversion for him, and he for you. True to form, he didn’t idle with you as you lounged, fully drained, in your rumpled sheets.

Azriel dressed efficiently, which is to say that you weren't yet prepared for his stunning body to disappear under his clothes, not so quickly. That was the thing about indulging a vice, these things were never meant to linger. 

He stood next to your bed, suddenly assuming an air of professionalism, like you hadn’t just been screaming his name. 

“If I'm ever in town again…” he began, tentatively.

“I’ll be here,” you laughed. You meant it humorously, but the words rang hollow in the empty air. 

“Good,” he noted with satisfaction. 

His words weren’t quite a promise. Still, the meager sentiment had something almost like hope flaring in your sunken chest. Darkness was wrapping itself thickly around his form, like he was gathering his things to leave. 

He kissed you once more, slowly, as if he was memorizing the feeling of your mouth on his. And then he was gone, taking his shadows with him. 

The sudden light of the room hurt your eyes. You blinked away the tears, swallowing the horror that rose at their arrival, bitter as bile. You sniffed once before snapping to work. 

Within a few minutes, you’d erased every trace of your charmed evening. 

The shadowinger hadn't left so much as a hair as a sign of his presence, and even the bed was cold again by the time you crawled under fresh sheets. Sleep came mercifully quick, surrendering you to a world of dreams. 

✸✸✸

The next night, your husband was gone again, his dinner untouched on the long table where you'd carefully laid his place at the head. 

Usually, on nights like these, you would relish the freedom of the empty home and set a fire in the hearth. It was a frivolous excess, but so was most of your life. 

The fire was part of a game you played, where you would picture everything you hated, everything and everyone you wanted to see burn. Some nights, it soothed you to picture it, your personal apocalypse. Other nights, the warm flame felt like an insult, its wagging tongues mocking your petty, helpless game. Nights like those were the worst, the void more humiliating than any offense. They left you feeling vapid, foolish. 

Tonight however, instead of your customary game at the hearth, you found yourself sitting alone in the wide expanse of your bed. You’d lit a solitary candle; not to banish the darkness, but to invite the soft shadows it spread. Their quiet company was a cold comfort to your heart, where a fragile, unfamiliar flame was just flickering to life. 

_

A/N: Thanks for reading :) I can't for the life of me write a one shot so this might have to become a blurb-y little series of an unpredictable and torturous affair. Who better to have as an affair partner than this sexy spy? He’s big dicked and discreet– everything you need ... Re: ‘Scotty Doesn’t Know’ – "I did her on his birthday" is the *coldest* line and I feel like Azriel is a little shit on the down low and would get off on that... If you have scenarios in mind for future episodes, please send them my way ;) 

Let me know what we think! And did the last sex position make sense?? I was struggling to explain it.

[gomzdrawfr]

I had a dream

So this time is about this round robot. The setting takes place in a world where technology is extremely advanced where machines run everything. Robots are the authority now, they outnumber humans by a lot and human are just there existing and assist.

So this round robot, the protagonist, is being hunted. Everyone’s after her (the round robot) because there’s a bounty on her head. Every machine knows she’s not supposed to be around. The moment they detect her, they would like, beam red lights on her, and armed forces show up almost instantly. So the whole dream had a lot of those series of very intense chases and her hiding in places, doing everything she can to survive.

Why is she being hunted? Because this round robot broke the one rule/law that all robots shouldn't break. Sentience is forbidden. Any robots showing signs of it must be destroyed on the spot.

She has a purpose in grained in her, she doesn't know why, but it feels like a command or directive she can't ignore, that purpose was to find her creator, her scientist.

Her last memory before gaining sentient was of her scientist being taken by the armed forces. Back then, she wasn’t self-aware yet, and before the scientist was taken away the robot was hidden somewhere secret and off-grid.

The round robot stayed there for years, maintaining the place like someone still lived there, waiting for an owner that never seemed to return. Over the years (and who knew how long it was), maybe it was that routine, or the absence of commands, or the picture of the scientist on the wall slowly eroding, the round robot slowly started thinking, and becoming something more she was designated to be (or maybe she was meant to grew sentient).

Anyway, back in the present, she’s being chased again. But this time, one of the humans in the armed forces actually helps her hide. He’s wearing a green coat, looks chill, the kind of guy who could chain-smoke 20 cigarettes in one sitting and have that "I'm not paid enough to do this", and the "looks lazy and useless but is actually a genius" vibe. She doesn't know why he helped her, but she catalogued his details and quickly went away to find spots to hide once again.

She finds herself in this strange white zone. Everything’s clean, sterile, with fake plants, a hologram waterfall, and artificial animals like birds, monkeys and bugs. It’s like a memory of what forests used to be, something only seen in premium districts in curated green house/domes. Not the underground slums where she came from. Oddly enough, there are no detectors or patrol bots here, aside from the ones running the holograms. For once, she gets to move freely. She even enjoys the moment, observing and get fascinated by these remnants of Earth.

Until the waterfall suddenly released above her, flushing her down a path.

(ok im not really sure what happened here in the dream but) Music started playing, and there’s some weird dance sensor she has to react to in a panic. The water was like sweeping her backward (like her back was facing the direction of the current so she couldn't see where she was heading), when she’s carried away, she sees a row of really elderly humans sitting quietly on white benches.

They wore white robes, sitting still on the benches, it was eerie because they barely move or gave any reactions, were they even alive? Something is wrong she needs to fly up-

A hatch opens. She’s flushed down with the water, and it immediaely seals shut above her.

She knew instantly where she was because of the sudden silence and pressure changes. Somehow, she has reached the end of the world, The Void.

The space is massive and silent. A huge rectangular structure with the hatch stretches down into what seems like forever. She looked around and saw there were other hatches as well. Surveillance drones float above, there were four of them, moving in a routine. Two more cling to the walls. So these bots were not as tightly guarded as the surface, but still enough to make her stay alert and stick close to the blind spot of the wall.

She might’ve doomed herself. How is she supposed to get back into the city? How can she find her scientist from here? She could only pray the hatches open again....

[peavhyshy]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - AFRAID

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paring ─ ୨୧ ─ dark!boyfriend!rafe cameron ⋆ reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which Rafe hatches a plan to ensure you stay by his side, by making you dependent on him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ explicit language noncon/dubcon, smut, rafe drugs reader, substance abuse, toxic relationship, emotional abuse, baby trapping/forced pregnancy, possessiveness, controlling behaviors, threats of violence, loss of virginity, corruption, breeding kink, dirty talk (like a lot), abandonment issues, manipulation, rough sex, hairpulling, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, powerplay, choking, semi public sex, car sex, creampie (please dni if your sensitive to these topics your mental health should come first)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 8,960

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ is there a plot not really, it may seem long but 80% of this is smut. this is unrelated but i think his season 1 & 2 rafe hair were elite to me but I just hate buzz cuts on everyone so my opinion doesn't matter here. The ‘Lila’ is now edited I use it as a placeholder (because for some reason I hate putting y/n while writing) before I replace it with y/n but of course my dumbass forgot to do that when I published this.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔.:･Afraid･:.ೃ࿔.⋆❀°

(༝༚༝༚ lana del rey)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Rafe sits across from you at your usual table in the country club, his jaw clenching rhythmically as he watches you flip through the college applications. His fingers drum against the polished wooden table, creating a nervous pattern that matches his increasing anxiety. The sight of all those prestigious university names makes his stomach turn - Harvard, Yale, Princeton - each one threatening to take you further away from Outer Banks, from him. He barely touches his plate of steak, too preoccupied with the growing unease in his chest.

"Why the fuck are you even looking at schools that far?" He snaps suddenly, his voice carrying a sharp edge as he reaches across to snatch one of your fries, popping it into his mouth with more force than necessary. His blue eyes darken with barely contained irritation, especially when he catches Topper's wave from across the room. He returns it with a curt nod, his attention immediately returning to you. "You know there's perfectly good schools right here in North Carolina. UNC's got a decent program."

You glance up from your binder, your eyes meeting Rafe's intense blue ones. You set down your fork carefully on your half-eaten Caesar salad, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The sunlight streaming through the country club's windows catches on your hair, creating a halo effect around your skin. "Baby, we've talked about this," you say gently, "These schools have amazing programs for what I want to study. And it's not like I'm making any decisions yet - I'm just looking at options."

The afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches on his rings as he reaches up to run a hand through his disheveled hair, a telltale sign of his growing agitation. The country club bustles around them with the usual crowd of Kooks - women in tennis whites gossiping over martinis, men in polo shirts discussing their latest yacht purchases. But Rafe's focus remains fixed on those damned college applications, his jaw working overtime as he grinds his teeth.

The cocaine from earlier isn't helping his paranoia, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them. The idea of you leaving, of losing control over this one good thing in his life, sends a fresh wave of anxiety through his system. His free hand unconsciously reaches up to rub at his chest, a nervous tick he's developed. The country club suddenly feels too small, too confined, and he can feel his breathing getting slightly erratic. "Just... just put those away for now," he demands, trying to maintain his composure despite the rising panic in his chest. "We're supposed to be having lunch, not planning your fucking escape route."

You reach across the table with your free hand, your fingers brushing against his chest where he's rubbing anxiously. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something sharper - probably remnants of whatever he'd been doing before lunch - fills your nostrils as you lean closer. "Rafe, you're spiraling again," you observe quietly, mindful of the other diners around them. Your eyes flick briefly to Topper and his mother as they pass, offering a polite smile before returning your attention to your increasingly agitated boyfriend. "And you know that's not fair. I'm not trying to escape anything, especially not you."

"Besides," he continues, his tone taking on that manipulative edge he's so good at, "You really want to leave all this behind? The island, the parties, me?" He leans forward, lowering his voice to that dangerous whisper he uses when he's trying to get his way. "You know I can't follow you out there. I've got responsibilities here, the family business..." His hand shoots out to grab your wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough to make his point. "And what about us? You're going to throw away what we have for some fancy degree you could get right here?"

The weight of his intense stare makes you shift in your seat, your sundress rustling against the plush cushions. You can see the telltale signs of his growing panic - the clenched jaw, the rapid breathing, the way his fingers keep twitching against the table. Part of you wants to close the binder, to give in like you usually do when he gets like this. But another part, the part that's been dreaming about life beyond the island since you were little, keeps your hand steady on the applications. "What about a compromise?" you suggest, your voice taking on that soothing tone you learned to use when he's on edge. "What if I apply to both - some schools here in North Carolina and some out of state? That way we have options to discuss later?"

Your free hand moves from his chest to his face, your thumb gently stroking along his clenched jaw. You can feel the tension there, the way he's grinding his teeth. The chatter of the country club fades into background noise as you focus solely on him, knowing how quickly his mood can shift when he feels cornered. "And hey," you add, your voice dropping to a whisper as you lean even closer, your lips quirking into a small smile, "No matter where I end up going, you know you're the only one I want, right? These other Kook boys could never compare to my Rafe Cameron."

The familiar weight of the promise ring he gave you three months ago sits heavy on your finger, catching the light as you move. You learned over your time together that sometimes Rafe needs this - needs to be reminded that he's your choice, that you're his. Even if the possessiveness sometimes scares you, even if his mood swings leave you walking on eggshells, you can't deny the way your heart still races when he looks at you like he is now - like you're something precious he's terrified of losing. "Can we at least look through them together? You might see something you like too."

Rafe lets go of your wrist his hand shooting out to slam your binder shut with enough force to make nearby diners jump. "Don't fucking patronize me," he growls, his voice low and threatening despite their public setting. The gentle stroke of your thumb against his jaw only heightens his agitation, like a match to gasoline. "You think I don't see what this is?" He leans forward, invading your space across the table, his blue eyes wild with a mixture of possessiveness and barely contained rage. "First it's just 'looking at options,' then suddenly you're gone, probably fucking some ivy league asshole who doesn't know you like I do." His breathing becomes more erratic, the hand on his chest pressing harder as anxiety mingles with his growing anger. The familiar scent of your perfume - usually calming - now seems to mock him with its potential absence.

"You're trying to leave me, just like everyone else. Just like my mom, just like Sarah..." His voice cracks slightly on his sister's name before hardening again. "Well, I won't fucking let you."

You tense at the sudden shift in Rafe's demeanor, your heart rate picking up as you watch him slam your binder shut. The warmth drains from your eyes, replaced by a flicker of fear you try desperately to hide. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as he invades your space, his paranoia rolling off him in waves. You’ve seen him like this before, but never quite this intense, never quite this threatening in such a public place.

"Rafe, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you glance around at the other diners who are now openly staring at them. Your sundress suddenly feels too thin, too exposed under his wild-eyed gaze. You can smell the mixture of his cologne and sweat, and see the way his pupils are dilated - clear signs he's high again. "You're making a scene. Can we please just discuss this somewhere private?" 

A laugh escapes his throat at your suggestion of talking, the sound drawing more concerned glances from nearby tables. "Discuss? There's nothing to fucking discuss." His voice takes on that manipulative tone he knows works so well, mixing threat with vulnerability. "You belong here, with me. Do you think any of those places are gonna love you like I do? Understand you like I do?" His eyes flick to the promise ring on your finger, a visible reminder of his claim on you. "Or maybe that's what you want - to get away from the crazy boyfriend, right? Is that what this is about?"

The cocaine-fueled paranoia reaches a crescendo as he suddenly stands, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He towers over you, his presence intimidating despite the public setting. "You're not going anywhere," he declares, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he leans down close to your ear. "And if you try, I'll make sure every single one of those fancy schools loses your application. Don't test me, baby." His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, a twisted mixture of threat and affection that's purely him. "Now get your shit. We're leaving." His hand moves to grip your upper arm, ready to pull you up from your chair, his entire body vibrating with barely contained violence and possessive need.

The promise ring feels like it's burning on your finger as tears start to well up in your eyes. "I'm not trying to leave you," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper. I'm not trying to leave you, I love you, Rafe. You know I do. But you're hurting me right now." You can feel your body starting to shake, whether from fear or adrenaline, you're not sure anymore.

You let him pull you to your feet, knowing resistance will only make things worse. Your college applications lay forgotten on the table as you stumble slightly, your legs weak from the sudden movement. "Okay," you concede, your voice small and defeated. "Okay, we can go. Just... please calm down. Please." Your free hand comes up to rest on his chest again, feeling his racing heartbeat under your palm. "Let's go to your family's place and talk about this properly. Just you and me, baby. Like we always do."

Rafe feels you trembling beneath his grip, and something in your tear-filled eyes pierces through his cocaine-addled rage. His breathing is still erratic, but the feel of your hand against his racing heart starts to ground him. The familiar scent of your perfume begins to cut through the paranoid haze, reminding him of lazy mornings in his bed, of your soft sighs against his neck. His grip on your arm loosens slightly, though he doesn't let go completely.

"Fuck," he mutters, running his free hand through his disheveled hair as reality starts seeping back in. The stares of the other country club patrons finally register, and he can feel his father's disapproval even in his absence. His jaw clenches and unclenches as he struggles to regain control. "Yeah... yeah, okay. Let's go home." His voice is still rough, but the dangerous edge has dulled somewhat. He reaches past you to grab your binder, shoving it under his arm - he's not leaving it here for you to come back to later.

The walk to his truck is tense, his hand moving from your arm to the small of your back - still possessive, but less aggressive. The cocaine is making him jittery, his thoughts racing between paranoia and guilt. Once you're inside his truck, he slams his palms against the steering wheel, making you jump. "I just..." he starts, his voice cracking slightly. "I can't lose you too, baby. I can't." His blue eyes, when they meet yours, are still wild but now tinged with desperation rather than rage. "Everyone leaves. Everyone always fucking leaves."

He reaches across the center console to pull you closer, burying his face in your neck. His breathing is still uneven, but slower now as he inhales your scent. "Stay," he whispers against your skin, his voice taking on that vulnerable quality that only you get to hear. "Just... stay with me. Please." His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin there. It's the closest thing to an apology you’re likely to get from him, this moment of raw vulnerability between the storms of his temper.

Rafe paces anxiously across Topper's home gym, his footsteps echoing against the polished hardwood floors as sweat drips down his bare chest from their workout session. The late afternoon sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the expensive exercise equipment. His muscles are tense not just from lifting weights, but from the constant anxiety gnawing at his insides about your potential departure. The cocaine from earlier is still coursing through his system, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them.

"I'm telling you guys, she's fucking leaving me," he complains, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he continues his relentless pacing. The familiar panic starts rising in his chest again, making him rub at it absently. "All these fucking college applications... Harvard, Yale, Princeton. She's planning her escape and I can't... I can't fucking let that happen." His blue eyes are wild as they dart between Kelce and Topper, sprawled across the leather bench press seats, watching their friend's mounting distress.

Kelce exchanges a knowing look with Topper before speaking up, his voice careful as he watches Rafe's increasingly agitated movements. "Man, you need to chill. Maybe if you weren't so fucking intense about it-" Rafe's sharp laugh cuts him off, the sound bouncing off the mirrored walls. "Intense? You think I'm being intense?" Rafe's voice rises as he spins to face them, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "My girl's trying to leave the fucking state, and you're telling me to chill?"

"Well," Topper drawls, wiping his face with a monogrammed towel, "you could always do what my cousin did when his girlfriend tried to leave for college." He pauses for dramatic effect, a smirk playing on his lips. "Got her knocked up. Can't exactly go to Yale with a baby on the way, can you?" He's clearly joking, but something in Rafe's expression shifts, his eyes taking on that dangerous gleam that appears when he's formulating a plan.

"That's..." Rafe stops pacing, his mind racing with possibilities. His jaw clenches rhythmically as he processes the idea. "That's fucking perfect." He starts pacing again, but this time with purpose, his movements predatory rather than anxious. "She'd have to stay. She'd be tied to me forever." His voice takes on that obsessive quality that appears when he's fixating on something. "No more fucking college applications, no more threats of leaving. She'd be mine, completely mine."

"Dude," Kelce sits up straighter, realizing Rafe's actually considering it. "I don't think that's what Topper meant-" But Rafe's already lost in his world, his cocaine-fueled paranoia latching onto this new solution like a lifeline. "She's still a virgin too," he continues, more to himself than his friends, his rings catching the light as he gestures animatedly. "Waiting for the 'right moment' or some shit. Well, guess that moment's coming sooner than she thought."

"No, no, this could work," Rafe continues, his voice taking on that edge that suggests he's spiraling into one of his episodes. "Her parents are traditional as fuck, they'd make her keep it. And Ward's always going on about wanting grandkids to carry on the Cameron name..." He's fully pacing now, his movements jerky and aggressive as the plan solidifies in his mind. "She's been hinting about wanting to do it soon anyway. Valentine's Day is coming up..."

The gym falls silent except for the sound of Rafe's footsteps and heavy breathing. Neither Kelce nor Topper dare speak, knowing from experience that trying to talk Rafe down when he's like this - especially when he's high - is pointless and potentially dangerous. They watch as their friend works himself into a frenzy, plotting the permanent capture of his girlfriend with the same intense focus he applies to everything he wants to possess.

"It's perfect," Rafe finally declares, stopping his pacing to face his friends. His chest heaves with excited breaths, sweat making his skin shine in the fading sunlight. "She'll never leave me then. She'll have to stay here, raise our kid, be the perfect fucking family." 

The thought of you, permanently his, unable to leave him, sends a rush of possessive pleasure through his system. "You guys didn't hear any of this," he suddenly stops, fixing both Kelce and Topper with a threatening stare. "Not a fucking word to anyone, got it?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that reminds them why people are scared of him, why even other Kooks think twice before crossing him.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe," Topper mutters, running a hand through his hair as he watches his friend's descent into this new obsession. "This is fucked up, even for you." But he knows that look in Rafe's eyes. Once Rafe sets his mind to something, especially when he's high, there's no talking him out of it. The gym feels smaller suddenly, charged with the energy of Rafe's newfound determination.

Rafe stands at the door of the l/n estate, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure in his tailored black suit. His blue eyes are slightly dilated from the line of cocaine he did in his truck to calm his nerves, but he's made sure to eye drop and cologne himself thoroughly. The velvet box containing the surprise he has planned for later weighs heavy in his pocket as he shifts anxiously, his rings catching the light as he reaches up to adjust his tie.

When Paul opens the door, Rafe immediately straightens his posture, forcing his most charming smile - the one he uses when he needs to impress. "Good evening, Mr. L/N," he greets, his voice steady despite the cocaine making his heart race. The older man's scrutinizing gaze reminds him uncomfortably of his own father's disapproving stares. The foyer behind Paul gleams with old money - crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and family portraits that speak of generations of Kook legacy.

"Rafe," Paul acknowledges with a slight nod, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the young man's appearance. There's something about Ward Cameron's son that has always set him on edge, though he can't quite put his finger on what. Maybe it's the occasional wild look in his eyes or the way his daughter seems to walk on eggshells around him sometimes. "Y/N is still getting ready. Come in." He steps aside, allowing Rafe into the pristine foyer.

The sound of Rafe's expensive dress shoes echoes against the marble as he enters, his hands sliding into his pockets to hide their slight tremor - partly from the drugs, partly from anticipation of what he has planned for tonight. The house smells of old money and fresh flowers, much like his own family's estate, but somehow more sterile, fitting for a plastic surgeon's home. His fingers brush against the small packet of powder in his pocket, next to the ring box - just enough to keep him steady through dinner.

"I trust you'll have her home at a reasonable hour," Paul's voice cuts through Rafe's thoughts, making him turn to face the older man. "Of course, sir," Rafe responds, that practiced smile still in place even as his jaw clenches slightly. "We just have reservations at Le Rivage, then maybe a walk on the beach." What he doesn't mention is the rest of his plans for the evening - the champagne waiting in his truck, the blankets he's laid out at his secret spot on the beach, the pills dissolved in one of the champagne glasses that will make sure everything goes according to plan.

The sound of heels on marble draws both men's attention to the grand staircase, and Rafe's breath catches in his throat. You descend like something out of a dream, your skin glowing against the deep red of your dress making his hands itch with the need to touch you. His blue eyes darken as they track your movement, his mind already racing ahead to later in the evening, to all the ways he plans to claim you completely.

"You look fucking perfect," he breathes out when you reach the bottom of the stairs, catching himself too late to censor his language in front of your father. But he can't help it - the cocaine making him more impulsive than usual, and the sight of you making his blood run hot. He steps forward to meet you, one hand reaching out to brush against your waist, proprietary and possessive even under your father's watchful gaze. The scent of your perfume mingles with the lingering chemical taste in the back of his throat, making him dizzy with want and anticipation.

Tonight's the night, he thinks, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as Paul insists on taking pictures. Tonight you become his completely, permanently. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. The thought makes him pull you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Ready for your Valentine's surprise, baby?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that anyone else would recognize as a warning, but he knows his sweet, innocent Y/N won't catch it. Not until it's too late.

Rafe helps you into his truck, his hand lingering possessively on your lower back as you climb in. The interior smells of expensive leather and his cologne, mixed with something chemical that makes you wrinkle your nose slightly. He slides into the driver's seat, his movements are precise despite the cocaine coursing through his system. The engine purrs to life, and he immediately reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers as he pulls away from your family's estate.

"You really do look fucking incredible tonight," he murmurs, his blue eyes flickering between you and the road. His thumb traces circles on your palm, a gesture that would seem sweet if not for the slight tremor in his hand. "That dress is driving me crazy." His rings catch the streetlights as you drive through Figure 8, passing other massive estates and perfectly manicured lawns.

"Thank you, baby," You respond softly, your free hand smoothing down the red fabric of your dress. "You clean up pretty nice yourself." You glance at him, admiring how the streetlights cast shadows across his sharp jawline. "So, are you going to tell me where we're going for dinner? You've been so secretive about tonight."

Rafe's grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. "It's a surprise, remember?" His voice carries that edge of control he can never quite hide. "But first..." He reaches behind your seat with his free hand, pulling out a small gift bag. "I got you something to wear at dinner." Inside is a delicate diamond necklace, the stones catching the light like tiny stars.

"Oh, Rafe," You breathe, reaching for the necklace. "It's beautiful. You didn't have to-" You are cut off by his laugh, that sharp sound that always makes your stomach flip. "Of course I did. Only the best for my girl." He pulls into a secluded spot overlooking the water, putting the truck in park. "Here, let me put it on you."

His hands are slightly unsteady as he fastens the necklace around your throat, his breath hot against your neck. "Perfect," he whispers, his fingers trailing down your spine. "Just like you'll be after tonight." There's something in his voice that makes you shiver, though you can't quite place why. "What do you mean?" you ask, turning to face him.

Rafe's eyes are darker now, pupils blown wide as he stares at you. "Just that I've got big plans for us, baby." His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "Tonight's gonna change everything." He leans in closer, his other hand sliding up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course I do," You whisper, even as something in your gut tells you something's off. You can feel his heart racing where your bodies are pressed together and you can smell something sharp and chemical on his breath beneath the mint. "Rafe, are you okay? You seem...different tonight."

"Never better," he responds, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Just excited to give you all your surprises." His hand moves higher up your thigh, possessive and demanding. "Now, how about we have a little drink before dinner? To celebrate Valentine's Day?" He reaches behind the seat again, pulling out an expensive bottle of champagne and two glasses.

Rafe pours the champagne with calculated precision, his hands steadier now as he hands you your specially prepared glass. The moonlight filtering through the truck's windows catches the diamond necklace at your throat, reminding him of how perfectly it marks you as his. His blue eyes track your every movement as you accept the glass, noting how the red fabric of your dress has ridden up slightly from your position.

"To us," he proposes, raising his glass with that dangerous smile playing at his lips. The cocaine makes everything feel more intense - the way your perfume fills the confined space of his truck, the soft sound of your breathing, the sight of your lips touching the rim of the glass. He watches intently as you take a sip, something predatory flickering in his eyes. "And to all the surprises tonight has in store."

"Mmm, this is really good," You comment, taking another sip. You don’t notice how Rafe barely touches his glass, too focused on watching your drink. "But shouldn't we head to dinner? We don't want to lose our reservation." You move to check the time on your phone, but Rafe's hand shoots out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with practiced possessiveness.

"We've got time," he assures you, his voice dropping lower as he leans closer. His free hand comes up to trace the line of the necklace, fingers ghosting over your collarbone. "Besides, I want to enjoy this moment. Just you and me." He can feel your pulse racing under his fingers where they press against your wrist. "Finish your drink, baby. Then we can talk about dinner."

He watches as you obediently take another sip, then another. "You know what I love about you, Y/N?" His voice is rough now, heavy with want and something darker. "How fucking perfect you are. How innocent." His fingers trace patterns on your inner thigh, making you shiver. "How you trust me completely."

"Rafe," you breathe, and he notices your words are slightly slurred now. Your eyes are starting to look unfocused as you blink slowly at him. "I feel... strange." The champagne glass slips from your fingers, but he catches it smoothly, setting it aside. His heart is racing with a mixture of cocaine-fueled excitement and dark anticipation.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, pulling you closer as you start to sway slightly. "I've got you. Always got you." His lips brush against your neck, just above the diamond necklace. "And after tonight, you'll always be mine. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving." His voice takes on that possessive edge that would normally frighten you, but the drugs in your system are making everything feel distant and hazy.

"What did you..." you try to ask, your head falling back against the seat as your limbs grow heavy. Rafe's hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he watches the drugs take effect. The moonlight casts shadows across his face, making his expression look almost demonic as he smiles down at you.

"Just making sure tonight goes exactly as planned," he whispers, his other hand already reaching for the blankets he has stashed behind the seats. "Don't fight it, baby. Just let go. Let me take care of everything." His lips crash against yours, swallowing any protest you might have made as the drugs pull you deeper under their influence.

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your movements become increasingly sluggish, your normally bright eyes growing heavy-lidded and unfocused. He shifts in his seat, reaching to recline both of your seats back to create more space in the truck's cabin. The moonlight streaming through the windows casts ethereal shadows across your skin as he positions your body how he wants.

"Rafe..." you mumble, your voice thick and confused as he spreads the blankets beneath you. "What's happening? I feel so..." Your word trails off as he captures your lips in another possessive kiss, his hands already working at the zipper of your red dress.

"Just relax, baby," he whispers against your mouth, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. "Let me take care of you." His fingers trace the newly exposed skin of your back, savoring how you shiver under his touch despite your drugged state. "You look so fucking perfect like this. So helpless. So mine."

Rafe's hands slide possessively over your body as he peels the red dress from your drugged form, revealing the black underwear underneath. His blue eyes darken with predatory hunger as he drinks in the sight of you laid out beneath him in his truck, the diamond necklace glinting at your throat like a collar. The softness of your skin, the way your chest rises and falls with each shallow breath, the little whimpers that escape your lips as you try to fight through the fog in your mind.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, his voice rough with desire as his hands roam over your exposed flesh. "Just let it happen. You know you want this." His fingers trace the edge of your lacy bra, teasing your hardened nipples through the delicate fabric. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment. To make you completely mine."

"Rafe, please," You slurred, weakly trying to push at his chest. "Something's wrong... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth crashing against yours, his tongue forcing its way past your lips as his hand slides between your thighs. He groans when he feels how wet you are through your panties, his cock straining against his suit pants.

"Look how ready you are for me," he rubs circles against your clit through the lace. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind's trying to fight it." He pulls back to admire his handiwork - your lips swollen from his kisses, your pupils blown wide from the drugs, your chest heaving as you struggle to focus. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Gonna put my baby in you tonight."

Rafe’s fingers hook into your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs as you weakly try to squeeze your thighs together. The moonlight catches on the wetness between your legs, making him groan. "Fuck, look at that pretty pussy," he breathes, his fingers spreading you open. "All perfect and untouched. Not for long though." 

Rafe's fingers work methodically between your thighs, spreading your wetness as he watches your face contort with unwilling pleasure. His other hand pins your wrists above your head, his rings cold against your feverish skin. The truck's windows are starting to fog up from your heavy breathing, creating a private cocoon around you.

"That's it, baby," he growls, sliding two fingers into you, feeling how tight you are around them. "Gonna stretch you out nice and slow before I fuck a baby into you." His cock throbs painfully in his pants as he watches you arch beneath him, the drugs making you more responsive even as you try to resist.

"No... Rafe... please," You whimper, your head thrashing weakly against the leather seat. But your body betrays you, hips rocking against his skilled fingers as he finds that spot inside you that makes you see stars. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as you gasp, reminding him of his ownership.

"Look at you, taking my fingers so well," he praises darkly, adding a third finger to stretch you further. "Can't wait to feel this tight little cunt around my cock." His thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles that make your whole body tremble. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Make sure my cum stays deep inside you until it takes."

The way your walls clench around his fingers, the little sounds you make as he works your body, the perfect arch of your back as you fight between pleasure and resistance. He leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, biting down just hard enough to make you cry out.

"Please," you beg, though whether you're begging him to stop or continue, even you don’t know anymore. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing from his touch as the drugs make everything feel more intense. "Rafe... I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, curling his fingers inside you as his thumb speeds up on your clit. "Come on my fingers like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cock." His blue eyes are wild with possession as he watches you fall apart beneath him, knowing that after tonight, you’ll never be able to leave him. 

Rafe’s fingers work relentlessly between your thighs. His free hand moves from your wrists to grip your throat, right above the diamond necklace, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Let me feel that tight little pussy squeeze my fingers."

Your body betrays you even as your mind tries to resist, waves of unwilling pleasure building under his skilled touch. The drugs make everything feel heightened - the stretch of his fingers inside you, the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the heat of his breath against your neck. Your legs start to tremble as you approach your peak.

"That's it, baby," He watches your face contort with pleasure and confusion. His cock strains painfully against his suit pants, demanding attention. But he forces himself to wait, to savor this moment of taking your innocence piece by piece. "Give it to me. Show me how good I make you feel."

The sound of your heavy breathing fills the truck's cabin, mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers working between your legs. Rafe's eyes are dark with possession as he watches you fight against the inevitable, knowing that each moment brings him closer to his ultimate goal. The moonlight catches on the sweat beading on your skin, making you glow ethereally.

"I... I can't..." You whimper, your back arching off the seat as pleasure builds to an unbearable level. The drugs make everything feel like too much and not enough all at once. "Rafe, please..." Your fingers clutch desperately at his shoulders. "You can, and you will," he commands, his voice taking on that dangerous edge that brooks no argument. His fingers curl inside you, finding that spot that makes you see stars while his thumb circles your clit with practiced precision. "Come for me now. Let me feel it."

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your body trembles beneath him, your back arching off the leather seat as pleasure builds. His fingers work relentlessly inside your pussy, stretching and preparing you for what's to come. The way your walls clench around his digits, the little gasps and moans you can't hold back, the perfect arch of your spine as you fight between resistance and ecstasy.

"That's my good girl," his free hand moving from your throat to grip your hair, forcing you to look at him. "Watch me while you come. Want to see those pretty eyes when I make you fall apart." His thumb continues its relentless assault on your clit as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your whole body shake.

Your eyes flutter open, glazed with drugs and unwilling pleasure. The moonlight catches the tears gathering in your lashes as you stare up at him, unable to look away from his intense blue gaze. Your lips part in a silent scream as the pressure builds to an unbearable level, your body tightening around his fingers.

"Please," Her hands clutch desperately at his shoulders, leaving crescent marks through his expensive shirt. "Rafe, I can't... it's too much..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, his voice rough with desire and dominance. "Come for me now, baby. Show me how good I make you feel." His fingers speed up inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the truck's cabin. "Let go. Let me see you fall apart before I fuck you properly."

The combination of his skilled fingers, the drugs in your system, and his commanding voice finally pushes you over the edge. Your whole body goes rigid as pleasure crashes through you, walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers as you come with a broken cry of his name. 

"Beautiful," he breathes, working you through the aftershocks as you tremble beneath him. "But we're not done yet, baby. Not even close." His free hand moves to his belt, the sound of the buckle loud in the confined space. "Now it's time for the main event. Time to make you completely mine."

Rafe takes his time unbuckling his belt, the metallic sound echoing in the confined space of his truck. His blue eyes never leave your face as he watches you come down from your high, your body still trembling with aftershocks. Your chest heaves with each breath, the glisten of sweat on your skin, the slight quiver of your thighs as they remain spread for him.

"Look at you," he grunts, finally freeing his throbbing cock from his pants. "All fucked out from just my fingers, and we haven't even gotten to the best part yet." His hand wraps around his length, stroking slowly as he positions himself between your legs. The head of his cock brushes against your sensitive folds, making you whimper. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment."

"Rafe," You slur, your drugged mind struggling to focus as you feel his size pressing against your entrance. "Wait... I'm not ready..." Your weak protests only serve to fuel his desire, his grip tightening on your hip as he holds you in place. The diamond necklace at your throat catches the moonlight as you try to shift away.

"You're more than ready, baby," he counters, using his free hand to spread your wetness along his length. "Your body's begging for it. Been begging for it all night." He leans down, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss as he starts to push inside your entrance. The stretch is intense, making you gasp against his mouth. "Gonna make you take every fucking inch."

His cock inches forward slowly, savoring the way your walls resist his invasion. The truck's windows are completely fogged now, creating a private world for just the two of you. Rafe's breathing grows heavier as he feels your tight heat enveloping him, his control starting to slip. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave bruises. "Taking my cock so well, just like I knew you would."

Tears stream down your cheeks as he stretches you open, the mixture of pain and drugged pleasure making your head spin. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket. "Almost there, baby," he pants against your neck, his hips still pushing forward relentlessly. "Just a little more and you'll have all of me." His free hand slides between them to rub your clit, knowing the added stimulation will help your body accept him. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum, make sure it takes. Make sure you can never leave me."

Rafe's hips finally meet yours as he bottoms out inside you, a groan of satisfaction rumbling deep in his chest. Your walls flutter around his length as you adjust to being completely filled for the first time. The truck's cabin is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the leather seats creaking beneath them with each subtle movement.

"There we go," he pants against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands grip your hips possessively as he holds himself still, savoring the moment. "Been dreaming about this for so fucking long, baby. About claiming you completely." You whimper beneath him, your mind is hazy from the drugs as your body struggles to accommodate his size. Tears continue to stream down your cheeks, your fingers clutch weakly at his shoulders as you feel him throb inside you.

"Please," you manage to gasp, though your drugged state makes it hard to form coherent thoughts. "It's too much... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth capturing yours in a demanding kiss, his tongue invading your mouth just as his cock has invaded your body.

"Yes, you can," his hips starting to move in shallow thrusts. "And you will. Gonna fuck a baby into you tonight, make sure you can never leave me." His movements gradually become deeper, and more purposeful, as he establishes a rhythm. "Watch me while I do it. Want to see those pretty eyes when I breed you." One hand slides from your hip to grip your jaw, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he fucks into you. "That's it," he praises darkly as your body starts to respond despite your protests. "Take it like a good girl. Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock."

Rafe's movements become more intense, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force as he chases his release. The truck rocks with your movements, his hands grip your hips bruisingly tight as he pounds into you, watching with dark satisfaction as pleasure and pain war across your drugged features.

"Fuck, you feel perfect," he groans, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat just above the diamond necklace. "So fucking tight around my cock. Like you were made for this." His thumb traces your bottom lip as he continues his relentless pace. "Made to take my cum, to carry my baby."

Your head thrashes weakly against the leather seat, your body overwhelmed by the mix of drugs and unwilling pleasure. Your walls clench around him involuntarily as another orgasm builds, making him grunt with satisfaction. "That's it, baby," he praises darkly. "Squeeze my cock just like that. Show me how much your body wants this." His free hand moves between them to rub your clit, determined to make you come around his cock. "Gonna fill you up so good," he pants, his rhythm becoming more erratic as he nears his release. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until it takes. Make sure everyone knows you belong to me." His fingers speed up on your clit as he feels your walls starting to flutter. "Come for me now, baby. Let me feel that tight little pussy milk my cock."

Rafe's grip tightens on your hips as he feels his release building, his thrusts becoming more desperate and erratic. "That's it, baby," feeling your walls clench around him as another orgasm builds in your drugged body. "Come on my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cum." Your back arches off the seat as pleasure crashes through you against your will, your walls squeezing his length rhythmically. The sight of you coming undone beneath him finally pushes Rafe over the edge. With a guttural groan, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your pussy. "Fuck," he pants against your neck, grinding his hips to ensure his cum stays deep inside. "All mine now."

He collapses on top of you for a moment, both of you catching your breath in the steamy confines of his truck. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as he finally pulls out, watching with dark satisfaction as his release drips from your used pussy. "No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. You're stuck with me now, baby." Without a word, he starts fixing his clothes, already planning your next encounter in his mind. 

"Let's get you home, baby," he says, his voice rough as he helps you dress on shaky legs. "Don't want your daddy getting suspicious." His hand rests possessively on your thigh as he starts the truck, knowing that after tonight, everything has changed. The drive back is silent except for your occasional whimpers, the drugs still making your head fuzzy as she processes what just happened.

A week later,  

Rafe lounges against his truck at the Boneyard, The beach is relatively empty at this hour, just a few surfers catching the last waves of the day. His blue eyes track your movement, noting how pale you look, and how your usual confident stride seems shakier. A smirk plays at his lips, though he keeps his expression carefully neutral.

"Hey baby," he calls out, pushing off the truck to meet you. His hands immediately find your waist, pulling you close as he studies your face. "You sounded weird on the phone. Everything okay?" The concern in his voice is perfectly crafted, masking the satisfaction he feels as he takes in your distressed state.

Your hands tremble as you pull away from his embrace, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. "Rafe, I... I need to tell you something." Your voice cracks slightly as you speak, tears already gathering in your eyes. "I went to the doctor today..."

"What's wrong?" Rafe steps closer, his hand coming up to cup your face with practiced gentleness. Inside, his heart races with anticipation, but his expression remains one of innocent concern. "You've been sick all week. Did they figure out what's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant," you whisper, the words carried away by the ocean breeze. Your eyes search his face desperately for any sign of recognition, any hint that he remembers your Valentine's night. "But I don't... I can't remember... The last thing I clearly remember is having champagne in your truck..."

Rafe's eyes widen in perfectly feigned shock, his hand dropping from your face as he takes a step back. "You're... what?" He runs a hand through his hair, the picture of a young man receiving unexpected news. "But we've never... I mean, I thought you wanted to wait?" His voice carries just the right amount of confusion and disbelief.

"That's just it," Your voice rises slightly, panic evident in your tone. "I don't remember! Valentine's Day is just... fuzzy. But the doctor said I'm about a week along, and you're the only one I've been with..." you trail off, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks.

Rafe pulls you into his arms, hiding his triumphant smile in your hair. "Shh, it's okay," he soothes, one hand moving to rest possessively over your still-flat stomach. "We'll figure this out together. I'm here for you, baby. Always." His voice drops lower, taking on that dangerous edge you're too distraught to notice. "Guess those college applications won't be necessary anymore, huh?"

His hand tightens possessively around your waist as you tremble against him, his other hand still resting on your stomach where his child is growing. The setting sun casts long shadows across the beach, the sound of waves providing a backdrop to your quiet sobs. His blue eyes gleam with dark satisfaction as he feels you collapse further into his embrace, exactly where he wants you.

"What am I going to tell my parents?" You whisper against his chest, your voice breaking. "My dad... he's going to kill me. And all my college plans..." You pull back slightly to look up at him, mascara running down your cheeks. "Rafe, I can't remember anything from that night. How did this happen?"

Rafe's jaw clenches as he maintains his facade of confusion and concern. "Hey, look at me," he demands softly, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "Your parents love you. And my family... well, Ward's always talking about wanting grandkids." His thumb wipes away your tears as he studies your face. "Maybe this is a good thing, you know? You and me, starting our own family."

"But I had plans," you protest weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt. "Harvard, Yale... I was supposed to get out of Outer Banks..." You don’t even notice how his grip tightens painfully at your words or the flash of possessive anger in his eyes.

"Fuck those plans," he growls, before quickly softening his tone. "I mean, things change, right? Sometimes for the better." His hand slides up to cup your face, forcing you to maintain eye contact. "You've got me now. Got us. Isn't that better than some fancy college where you don't know anyone?" He’s super hyper-focused on every detail - the way you unconsciously lean into his touch, how your body fits perfectly against his, the slight swell of your breasts that's already becoming noticeable. His other hand remains possessively on your stomach, imagining how it will grow with his child.

"I'm scared," You admit, your voice small against the sound of crashing waves. "Everything's happening so fast, and I can't remember... that night is just blank, Rafe. Doesn't that bother you?" You search his face for any sign of recognition, any hint of guilt.

But Rafe's expression remains carefully crafted a mixture of concern and determination. "What bothers me is seeing you upset," he lies smoothly, pulling you closer. "We'll figure this out together, okay? You and me and our baby. "No more talk about leaving, though. You belong here, with me. Got it?"

"We should tell our parents soon," he says, his voice carrying that edge of control he can never quite hide. "Get everything out in the open. But first, promise me something, baby. Promise me you'll stop looking at those college applications."

Your eyes widen with fresh tears as you stare up at him. "But Rafe, I can't just give up everything I've worked for..." Your voice trails off as his grip tightens slightly on your chin, his blue eyes darkening with barely contained possession.

"Those dreams were for the old Y/N," he states firmly, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "The one who didn't have a family to think about. Things are different now." His other hand presses harder against your stomach, a reminder of what's growing inside of you. "You've got bigger responsibilities. To me. To our baby."

The waves crash against the shore behind them as silence stretches between them. Rafe can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers where they rest against your throat and can see the moment you start to break under the weight of reality. His plan is working perfectly - soon you’ll be completely his, tied to him forever through your child.

"I... I need time to think," You finally whisper, trying to step back from his embrace. But Rafe's grip remains firm, keeping you close as the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the horizon. His expression shifts into something darker, more possessive.

"No more thinking," One of his hands slid up to tangle in your hair. "No more plans that don't include me. You're mine now, Y/N. The sooner you accept that, the better." His voice carries a threat wrapped in velvet as he stares down at you. "Or should we talk about how convenient it is that you can't remember Valentine's Day?"

Rafe's threat hangs heavy in the air as your face drains of color. His fingers tighten in your hair, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. The darkened beach feels suddenly oppressive as he towers over your trembling form.

"What... what do you mean?" You whisper, your voice is small and frightened as you search his face. The familiar warmth in his blue eyes has been replaced by something cold and calculating that makes your stomach turn.

"You really want to know what happened that night?" he asks, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. His hand slides from your stomach to your hip possessively. "Want me to tell you exactly how I made sure you'd never leave me? How I watched you drink that champagne, knowing what was in it?"

You try to pull away, but his grip is iron-tight as realization dawns on your face. "No," she breathes, shaking her head in denial. "You wouldn't... you couldn't..." But the predatory smile spreading across his face tells you everything you need to know.

"I did," he confirms, pulling you closer until your faces are inches apart. "And now you're carrying my baby. No more college applications. No more dreams of leaving. You're mine forever now, baby." His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek with mock tenderness. "And if you ever think about telling anyone... well, who's going to believe the girl who can't remember her own Valentine's Day?"

The waves crash behind them as your world crumbles around you. You can feel the weight of the promise ring on your finger - once a symbol of love, now feeling more like a shackle. Rafe watches you process everything with dark satisfaction, knowing he's won completely.

"Why?" you finally manage to ask through your tears, your voice breaking on the single word. The hand in your hair tightens as Rafe's expression turns almost tender, though his eyes remain cold.

"Because you're mine," he states simply as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And I take care of what's mine. You'll see, baby. This is better than any fancy college could ever be." His hand moves to rest on your stomach again, possessive and threatening all at once. "Our little family, together forever in Outer Banks. Just like it should be."

[starkeysbaby]

When the turtle incident at the beach happens the reader gets hurt saving the turtle 🐢 and rafe snap. Everyone sees a different side of rafe

a/n: i LOVE this idea. - Unfortunately i feel like i didn’t do it justice 🥲🥲 but hope you enjoy!! <3

“if i ever see you round my girl again…”

pairings: s4 rafe cameron x kook but not kooky!reader [est. relationship]

warnings: S4 E4 SCENE DESCRIBED/USED (not sure if it’s really a spoiler tho as nothing plot wise is revealed) turtles being hurt, blood, death threat, canon rafe lol, use of swear words. (pls lemme know if i forgot any)

summary: you just wanted peace between everyone, unfortunately you and a turtle became collateral damage over a kook vs pogue contest. rafe is not happy…

navigation ⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚ ⋅ obx masterlist

You were a kook? Well that’s what your bank account said. However, you were closer with the pogues and basically hung out with them or your boyfriend.. rafe cameron. that was the weird part. It had been awkward since the pogues all returned from El Dorado. You had sort of become the middle man in between rafe and the pogues including his sister, sarah. It was an unspoken rule between you and rafe that you just don’t talk about them with him which you respected. He’ll come around in his own time you thought.

When the swell came in, your boyfriend and his friends were eager to hit the beach and have a surf day to which you wouldn’t turn down. meeting up at tannyhill, you saw that topper had bought his new girlfriend, ruthie who you weren’t too keen on. You had mentioned this to rafe a while back but he said that it isn’t yours or his business to get involved with toppers love life and told you to just stay away from her if you didn’t like her to which you couldn’t argue.

Arriving at the beach you saw your friends, jj, john b, kiara and sarah and quickly told rafe that you were going over to say hi. Rafe just mumbled something as he set up his towel and told you not to be long as he stared daggers at sarah.

“hey!” you wave jogging up to the pogues, hugging sarah then kie. “what’s up y/nn (your nickname)” kie asked. “not much. just thought we’d hit the waves. i told them we should go a bit farther from here but they didn’t listen… sorry” you explained, knowing it’s best if the kooks and pogues don’t cross paths today. “you’re good. it’s them we don’t trust” jj butts in. “yeah, no. i’ll tell them to lay off..” you smile then turn to sarah. “he’s trying. he’ll come around. i know it..” you tell her, referring to rafe. Sarah just shrugs, pretending as if not being on good terms with her brother isn’t bothering her. “wanna surf?” you smile and take sarah’s hand dragging her to the water as you both laugh.

After surfing with sarah and the pogues for a while, you had joined rafe on his towel and spent an hour or so just chilling with him. He showered you in attention and you did your best to ignore ruthies little comments about the pogues and how jj is a poor sport. At one point, rafe saw you side eye ruthie for shitting on the pogues again. “hey. don’t frown.” he mumbles turning your head to face him and pats your cheek. “i don’t get her problem rafe.” you sigh. “yeah it sucks, but cmon” “no. it’s unnecessary. they aren’t doing anything to her.” you tell him, referring to the pogues just minding their business apart from that tiny squabble with jj and topper in the ocean but topper didn’t seem to care too much so why does ruthie? “i told you, ignore her” rafe says a little sternly taking your hand in his, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. “yeah yeah…” you smile as you peck him, letting it go as you didn’t want ruthie to ruin the day.

While you packed up, unknown to you and rafe, ruthie was convincing topper to just ride the truck over to the pogues to mess up their set up. You in the meantime went over to the pogues to say bye, only to find them saving a turtle hatch in which you started assisting with. The next thing you know, you see ruthie driving her truck at a high speed straight at you. While sarah and kie do their best to get the turtles out of the way in time, you stand in front waving your hands trying to get ruthies attention to stop her. “hey! hey!!! stop! there’s a hatch!” you call out but she doesn’t hear you. you can vaguely see topper yell at ruthie, probably to stop but she’s just laughing. kiara notices ruthie has no intention of stopping and quickly pulls you out the way.

Luckily no turtles were hurt at that point but you see ruthie circling around to go again. You stand up again, trying to stop her. Rafe has also noticed this and starts making his way over to get, in his words, your stupid ass out of the way. You realise ruthie yet again has no intention of stopping so you quickly go to pick up a turtle that was in the way but you get hit slightly by the truck, knocking you out.

“what the actual fuck?!” kiara yells rushing to you, she takes the turtles from you and calls for rafe who’s at your side in seconds. He looks up at a shocked, somewhat guilty looking ruthie. “what the fuck is your problem?” he spits “did you not see her fucking standing there telling you to stop!” he yells as he takes off his shirt to wrap around a bloody scrape on your knee from something in the sand. Overall you weren’t too badly hurt but might need some stitches. That was enough for rafe to see red though.

As sarah goes to fetch water to splash you awake, ruthie stutters “i.. i thought she’d get out the way. why would she just fucking stand the-” kie cuts her off “there was a turtle hatch! look what you did! she was tryna save this turtle” kie yells at her, showing her the hurt turtle to which ruthie turns her face away from. “why the fu-” rafe cuts himself off on questioning you to wake you up with the water sarah got. As you felt water being splashed on your face, you sit up. “what happened?” you groan. “y/n im so so sor-” ruthie starts to apologise but rafe cuts her off. “no. you shut the fuck up and stay away from my girl” rafe snaps causing topper to get involved. “hey now rafe-” but again rafe cuts him off. “control your bitch, top” he huffs shutting topper and everyone else up.

He lifts you up and walks towards his truck. “my head hurts..” you mumble. “i know baby.. gonna get you to the hospital aight” he gently whispers to you to which you just nod. With a final “don’t pull shit like that again” from rafe, he places you in the passengers seat before shutting the door and quickly going up to ruthie. “if i ever see you round my girl again… i’ll kill you” he murmurs up close to her face in a terrifyingly dangerous way. Apart from sarah and a few of the pogues, no one has ever seen rafe like that.. so scary.. so threatening… so murderous. Ruthie just nodded which was enough for rafe to leave the scene so he could take you to the hospital.

a/n: hope you enjoyed - kinda struggled to find a way to set the dynamic where reader is dating rafe but close to the pogues at this point in the show cuz i couldn’t see rafes defending someone so furiously unless he was dating her 😭

requests are open!! enjoy lovelies - liv <33

[beardedjoel]

honey, honey | one: for the low, low price of!

sugar daddy! joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist

summary: you find yourself in a precarious situation financially, one that requires lying and risking the silver spoon you've grown up on. your father's oldest friend, joel, finds you in a compromising position but quickly becomes an unexpected solution to all your problems. 9.8k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, sugar daddy worthy age gap (reader is 21, joel is 54), inherent power dynamic imbalance from a sugar daddy arrangement, reader has shit parents and comes from money, one (1) jerk off session, playing it a little fast and loose with pov, slow burn!

a/n: well, here she is. i actually started this over a year ago but sent it to the back burner for ages, so it feels like such a long time coming! i hope you enjoy, these two are going on a journey together and i really hope you stick along for the ride. so, so excited for it! i'm attempting a slower burn with eventual smut this time around. it’s not the focus from the get go but instead some chemistry, banter, and confusing pining are taking center stage for a bit before they get freak nasty.

You stare down at your phone, scowling at the message on screen as the van jostles you on a turn, pulling into a new neighborhood. Your coworkers, Alicia and Gladys chat in the front seats while you sulk in the back. You don’t mean to be so off putting, but you’re reflecting on how you ended up here, staring at a text from your father inquiring about your day at the firm. Guilt squeezes your insides at the fabrication you’ve concocted, the way you couldn’t be further from the false narrative you’ve given to your parents, and with hardly anything to show for it yet.

“Wait…” you mutter, your eyes focusing and scanning along the perfectly manicured street of gorgeous brownstones rising up, all crammed together. You know that despite the small, more humble outsides of these homes, the insides are immaculate, thousands of square feet renovated to perfection. “I know this street.”

Alicia turns from the passenger seat, raising her eyebrows at you. “This richie rich neighborhood? Who do you know here?”

You feel your cheeks warm up, too embarrassed to admit to them that your own parents’ luxury apartment is on a street not too dissimilar to this. In fact, you don’t even need this job in the slightest, but have been desperate to make your own money under the radar, away from your parents’ obsessive peering into every aspect of your life. Every day that has passed since you hatched your little plan that had felt like some kind of genius at the beginning has only proven how futile it was to jump into it so hastily.

“I… swear I’ve been here before…” you mutter, mostly thinking out loud to yourself, eyes staring out the window as you wrack your brain. 

When Gladys pulls into a drive, dipping below the house into a garage that opens for the van, your stomach tightens. It’s all too familiar, but you can’t quite place your finger on it. You haven’t been here for a few years, at the least. 

“W-who’s our client today?” you ask urgently, tightening your hands into fists. 

Gladys glances at her work tablet, filled with the itinerary for the entire week. “Mr. Miller, hon,” she replies before peering back down at the screen, confirming it. “Joel.”

You can tell you must look as shocked as you feel, eyes flashing with fear and going a little wider and your face dropping instantly.

“I-I know him,” you manage to stutter out. ��Well, he knows my parents. Like, really well.”

Joel could not, under any circumstances, see you like this. What a disaster that would be - your rich daddy’s rich friend getting a house cleaning from said friend’s daughter. One who is supposed to be off interning somewhere. Instead, you’re plotting to live by scraping by, collecting money for what you hope could be an escape from this life, their life. 

Your parents are both insistent on you taking over the family business - some corporate bullshit you have no interest in - so you’d sated them by claiming you were off gaining experience in between classes with some interning hours at a firm. You’re lucky that a friend of yours from college actually does work there, hoping if it came down to it, they could vouch for you. If the truth got out, you know the possibility that you would be cut off is high. It’s the kind of massive fallout you’re not sure you’re prepared to deal with yet.

The lies you’ve had to concoct and the harsh reality of cramming your schedule full between class and this job - scrubbing floors, endless vacuuming and wiping surfaces, your body aching after each and every day of work - was starting to get to you, but you had to persevere.

“They’re hardly ever even home when we come anyways, especially this Mr. Miller,” Alicia suggests at your panic, and you swallow and nod. Gladys agrees with her, then they shoot each other a concerned, confused look. They’ve been a team for a while, but you’ve only just met them a few weeks ago, assigned to train with them. Both of them are older momma bear types, having clung to your young ass like glue, vowing to teach you all the ropes and take good care of you, which you’d appreciated. You’d been lucky enough to have gotten a job with this particular company, having no experience in the field, or nay field for that matter. The client base they worked with was high end, their homes millions of dollars, the service only known to the more wealthy side of Manhattan.

“Y-yeah, you’re right. It’s totally fine.” You’re not sure if you’re trying harder to convince yourself or Gladys and Alicia, the two women staring you down with their brows wrinkled in worry. 

It’s the last cleaning of the day, and all you need to do is get through it. It has to be fine, it just has to - you need the money. Desperately. You push out a small smile, moving to exit the van. “Let’s do this,” you add on a little more encouragingly after the two of them look less than convinced.

“There she is,” Gladys teases, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze as you all start to unload all your supplies. You’re let in by a middle aged woman with dark hair in a sleek bob answering the garage door with a polite smile. His house manager or assistant, you realize. Men like Joel Miller had assistants, you remind yourself, to help take care of everything - the house, grocery lists for the week, light cooking, or even his schedule. She likely did it all.

You take in Joel’s home with wandering eyes, recalling now that you’d come here for dinner before - a family outing that your parents had dragged you to, the details of the place coming back to you as you all move further inside. It feels strange to be here without his permission, without your parents knowing where you are right now. Your chest is tight at the thought, but once you three get to work, you feel your anxiety dissipate as you get lost in the monotony of it - the drone of the vacuum, the mindless scrubbing of sparkling surfaces, the fresh lemon scent as you clean the bathrooms. Joel’s house isn’t all that dirty to begin with, an easy job compared to some of them you’d seen since you started.

You’re feeling downright pleasant by the time you’re finishing up, a job well done filling you with satisfaction as you wipe a thin layer of sweat off your forehead. You’re heading back to the main living room, hoping to link back up with Gladys and Alicia when you spot him.

He’s walking down the hallway with purpose, eyes glued down on his phone, dark framed reading glasses shielding his eyes from you further. His black suit hugs his body like it was meant for him, and you suppose it likely was tailored to his exact measurements, right to the very centimeter. You stop dead in your tracks, head whipping from side to side, looking for an out, a door you can rush into, but you’re trapped, the nearest one at least several paces behind you. When Joel glances up, he’s silent, stopping as he’s close to crashing into you and giving you a range of emotions rushing across his features - quizzical brows turning into full on confusion as he just stares.

Your name finally leaves his lips, almost incredulously. “Now what’re you doin’ here?” He takes in your outfit with his dark eyes - the branded tee shirt, your working slacks, and plain black work shoes - possibly one of the least flattering ensembles you could be wearing. “What is all this?” 

“Not sure what you mean, Mr. Miller,” you spit out in a panic, keeping your voice professional, a high, sweet lilt as you hold your smile. 

“C’mon now,” Joel urges, his brows coming together further in concern. He steps towards you with his voice lowered, but you step back a little almost instinctively, keeping your distance. Like you can run from this, from this mess you’ve suddenly made of your life. You break a little, lips faltering as your smile starts to fall. Tears prick behind your eyes, embarrassment from being caught creeping its way up from your chest.

“Please don’t tell my parents…” you mumble, darting your gaze away from his intense stare. 

Joel pauses for a moment, adjusting the glasses up on his nose before deciding to take them off completely, tucking them into his jacket pocket.

“I don’t even know what I’d be tellin’ them, if I’m honest here,” he admits, rubbing a hand along his lips and chin, studying you. It’s starting to practically burn your skin, the way he stares, a man of confidence and command looking at you this way. Not something you were completely unaccustomed to, your father having plenty of business partners and associates with the same demeanor. But Joel felt different, like he was genuinely concerned for you.

“There you are,” Gladys huffs out, turning the corner behind Joel, her mouth forming a small "oh” when she sees who you’ve run into. 

“Mr. Miller, great to see you, sir,” she chirps immediately, giving him her professional grin, one you’ve seen plenty of times already in the few weeks you’ve worked with her.

Joel, not forgetting his manners, smiles back at her and greets her, turning his body to let Gladys into the conversation. Alicia follows close behind, and you’re starting to burn up with embarrassment at this clusterfuck of a gathering you’ve found yourself in now.

“Everythin’ looks great, ladies. Why don’t you two head on out and I’ll steal her for just a bit,” Joel says, charming and smooth, his accent thick. “Think my office needs some special attention.”

Alicia and Gladys shoot each other a glance, then you, then Joel, seeming to try to piece everything together. Your cheeks couldn't possibly be any hotter, white hot and spreading up to your ears, knowing that this looks bad. Like Joel is about to take you into his office and do unspeakable things to you. The classic maid trope, or whatever.

“It’s okay,” you mouth quietly to the both of them, giving them an encouraging smile even though you feel shaky, like your stomach is bottoming out.

“She’s an old family friend in need of some catching up. In fact, I’ll drive her home after. Don’t y’all worry about it, I know you’ve got places to be,” Joel adds to sweeten the deal. The two ladies exchange another look, but then turn back to Joel, their faces slightly strained but professional.

“Of course, Mr. Miller. We’ll see you for the next service, then,” Alicia says a bit robotically. They both nod curtly and then bow out, not before peeking one last look at where you stand like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar.

“This way,” Joel says, turning back to face you with a steely expression, brushing past you to lead you towards where you already know he’s going - his office. You hadn’t been in there today - Gladys had tackled the office, so it’s all new territory to you as you pass the threshold, taking in the modern but cozy decor. It’s mostly black and dark wood furniture, dark gray chairs but contrasted with airy white walls, a high ceiling, and colorful art, making the room feel spacious despite the dark features.

Joel sighs softly, shutting the door behind him, even though nobody else is here, no reason to need the privacy. It serves to make you even more nervous, and you lick your quickly drying lips, standing near the doorway with your hands folded in front of you.

“Look, Mr. Miller -” you start, wanting to explain yourself. Joel moves closer, sending you backing up into the room, cutting off your train of thought as his large, imposing form closes in on you.

“You gonna tell me what’s really goin’ on here?” 

“W-what do you mean?” you ask innocently, knowing there are a myriad of very reasonable reasons for Joel to be questioning you right now. You’re not sure what charade you’re even trying to hold up at this point, it’s only pure panic. Another step closer, and another step backwards for you, he continues until the backs of your thighs hit the desk and you stop, surprised as you glance back at it behind you.

“Don’t play coy. Imagine my surprise when I see my one of my oldest buddies' daughters, knowing he takes care of his family, here cleanin’ my floors and toilets. Now don’t you think that’d strike me as odd?” His head cocks, and he looks at you seriously, brows raised. You can’t quite tell if he’s getting any satisfaction out of this, or if he actually seems angry.

“Mr. Miller, I - I can explain, okay?” you start nervously, and Joel waves a hand impatiently, as if to say go on then. “They, my parents, I mean, they want me to be in the family business, and I…” You sigh. “Don’t know what I want, but it’s not that.”

Joel stares at you for a long, quiet moment, flashing eyes studying your face, trying to read if you’re being truthful.

“And what’s this have to do with cleanin’ my house?” he asks curtly. 

“I… well, it doesn’t. I mean, it does. I just need to make my own money. If I don’t follow in his footsteps, I think they’ll… cut me off,” you reply, deciding to try to be as blunt as he is. Your voice falters on those last words, the reality of it painful, twisting in your gut. What kind of parent cuts their child off for something so frivolous, so selfish?

Joel looks amused suddenly, cocking his head a little further, and you can tell he definitely doesn’t believe you. He’s so close, so in your personal space, you’re finding it hard to breathe. “So you’re sayin’ your daddy ain’t takin’ care of you?”

You bite the inside of your lip and give him a small nod. The thing about your dad was if you acquiesced, if you followed exactly the plan he’d laid out for you, you’d have been riding high, walking on easy street for the rest of your life. And if not, well, he’d always made it perfectly clear he didn’t deal with traitors, because what was the point of having children if they couldn’t take over your business for you? Sure, it was tempting to take the easy route, but maybe you’d gotten tired of it all, found your rebellious streak a little later in life than most people. 

“Yes…” you say out loud, unable to believe you were sharing this with Joel of all people - someone more likely than anyone to feed this information straight back to your father. It’s not like you knew him well, despite him being one of your dad’s closest and oldest friends, one of his closest business partners and confidants. You’d spent a decent amount of time in the same room as Joel, but you only knew the surface level, just the polite, agreeable conversations you were expected to have. It typically was some kind of public function, or the holiday party at your parents’ place every year, maybe a dinner party sprinkled in here and there, but you’d certainly never been quite this close to Joel Miller. Or alone.

His face falls at the sincerity in your voice, seeming to feel the gravity of it weighing down on him. “Now what d’you mean, cut you off? Like, full on, ‘n everything?” He steps back a little, giving you some space, his brows scrunched together in concern and arms crossing over his chest.

“Er, with all due respect, Mr. Miller, I don’t think I should be talking to you about it all.” You slump back a little, pushing yourself off of where you lean back on his desk, glancing past him to look around his office. It’s tidy, bookshelves lining the far wall full of perfectly placed, perfectly organized books on all kinds of things - some practical and business related, some seeming more like guilty pleasures of fiction and nonfiction of various genres, but mostly mystery, it seems. 

“Y’made it my business when you stepped into my house today though, didn’t you?” he quips back, but you detect a hint of teasing there, feeling it start to disarm you.

“C’mon, sit,” Joel says, seeming to soften when he notices you stuttering to reply, gesturing to one of the chairs that sits near the large bay window in the room, a matching one set up across from it. “This’ll be… confidential.” He smiles, trying to convince you, and you don’t know if you believe him, but the twinkle in his eye almost makes you want to. You decide to sit, smoothing your scratchy work slacks, crossing one leg over the other, feeling like you look as stiff as you feel. 

Joel, on the other hand, looks relaxed as he sits back, legs spread wide, his large palms settling onto his thick thighs, fingers spread over them. 

“I… don’t believe you,” you finally tell him. “What’s to stop you from telling my dad everything I say right now, or even that I was here in the first place?” you ask before feeling your heart sink a little at the likely prospect of it. Your life as you know it could be over, starting from scratch with one phone call from Joel. 

Joel chuckles, the corner of one side of his mouth twitching upwards as he eyes you. “Look, I get it, I wouldn’t trust me either,” he replies, his hands lifting off of his legs to be thrown in the air before he fists his upturned palms and settles them on the arms of the chair. “I wanna hear you out, though. Your dad, he ain’t uh, without his faults, I know that.”

You try to hide your surprise, keeping your brows from twitching inward, your face showing the intrigue you feel. You breathe out, slow and steady. “My dad isn’t interested in anything but me being the next, well, him. And if I’m not interested in that, then I don’t think he’s interested in having me as his kid.”

Joel goes stone-like at your bare confession - so honest - and he seems to soak in the words quietly with serious consideration. “An’ where do they think you are right now, hm?” he finally questions, steady eyes on your anxious ones.

“An internship.” Your cheeks heat a little as you face your lie and how stupid it sounds when you say it out loud.

Joel chuckles again, this time looking a bit impressed by you. He shoots a handsome, devilish smirk your way and you avert his gaze. “Yeah? And they’re buyin’ it?”

You let out a small laugh of your own, releasing some tension, and shrug. “Seems like it.”

“Why… this? Why the, uh, cleaning?”

“Turns out the job market is pretty shit when you have no skills, no experience, and are trying to do things under the radar - y’know, name recognition around all the big places, and all of that.” Being spoiled for your entire life, never worrying about wanting anything, needing anything, had predictably led to you never having needed a job, even now into your early twenties. The only things you’d learned were with your dad, the days he’d dragged you up in his high rise to shadow him and start preparing you for the future. Your future, as directed by good ol’ dad.

Joel nods softly a few times, running a hand across his face. “Got it. An’ what exactly do you want to be doin’ if it ain’t workin’ for your daddy, fast trackin’ to CEO?”

“I…” you stutter, your eyes falling. That was the problem, wasn’t it? You hadn’t had the mindset, the freedom to wonder for so long, not realizing that you did have a choice in what you did with your life, that you could try to find a path you at least tolerated more than what your dad was going to have you do. You’d seen too much - the pressure, the stress, the kind of person it had made him into, and you wanted no part of that lifestyle. 

“I don’t know yet, honestly,” you admit, embarrassed that you’d started this whole plan without an end goal, all built on a frustrated whim you had one day. “Maybe something in education? Maybe fashion, interior design? Something more creative, I think. Or I could even be a lawyer, help people out, or something.”

“Thas’ quite a laundry list, sweetheart,” Joel says, and your heart thuds at the pet name. You hate it, hate how it makes him sound condescending even if he isn’t meaning to, like you aren’t smart enough to figure this out for yourself.

“I know, I know,” you acquiesce. It was all a pipe dream, you knew that deep down. “I just needed to get away from it. I hate business school - it just feels like a load of shit, honestly, Mr. Miller. I don’t want to become like my dad.”

“An’ what’s that, hm? What’s becomin’ like your dad?”

You shake your head. “I-I’m not answering that. It’s your friend, and clearly you see some merit in him to stay close all these years. I… don’t want to ruin that for him, too.” The thought makes you sad. Your dad is already about to lose his only child if he finds you out, and you don’t want to bring losing Mr. Miller into it, too. While it was by your dad’s own choices and shortcomings that he’d lose you, you still find your heart squeezing a little for him at the thought.

“Fair enough,” he says with a small smile, rubbing his hands together before putting them back on the armrests, gripping it. He pushes himself up, standing and walking over to his desk, opening one of the top drawers and pulling something out. You can’t see from this angle, and fight the urge to get up and go see what has so suddenly grabbed his attention. 

“How much?” he asks, grabbing a pen from a tiny box on the desk - a pen that likely costs more than what you’re making from this one job today. 

Your lips part, mouth hanging open slightly. “What?” you ask, shaking your head.

“How much do you make in a week? Here at this job? I’ll pay you five times just f’you to quit it.”

“Mr. Miller… n-no,” you spit out, hopping up from the chair in a hurry. You rush towards the desk, your non-slip work shoes clunking along the hardwood until you reach the plush rug that surrounds his desk. “No,” you say a little more firmly, planting your hands on the desk, standing opposite of him. 

“And why not?” He smirks now, like he’s somehow having fun here, and it irritates you. That would only make one of you having a nice time, because you are certainly fully out of your depth here. 

“B-because! It’s ridiculous, that’s why. I don’t need handouts,” you say indignantly, now moving both of your hands to your hips, standing taller. 

“Sounds like you might,” he half-teases, looking down at where he’s pulled out his checkbook onto the desk. His face falls suddenly and he rubs the back of his neck. “Jus’… I don’t like hearin’ what I’m hearin’. Could never imagine cuttin’ off Sarah, and if that’s true what you say about your dad, well, I…” he glances up to you with a more serious look in his eyes - pity.

Like your father, Mr. Miller also only has one daughter, Sarah, who as far as you’ve heard is well and thriving. Doing some kind of work in animal rescue, you think. You two had never been close given the over ten year age gap between you two - Joel had Sarah relatively young, and as long as you’ve known them, her mother hasn’t been fully in the picture. You’d always noticed how much Joel cared about her, how good of a father he was, remembering the pangs of jealousy you’d get as a kid when you saw how engaged he was with Sarah.

“You’re a good dad, that’s why,” you murmur in reply, eyes casting downwards. 

“I try t’be, I suppose,” he says, sounding more bashful. “C’mon, jus’ name it, sweetheart. No harm done, it’ll be our secret.”

“Wh- what am I even supposed to do? If you give me the money? What do I…” You swallow hard. “Owe? What do you get out of this?”

Joel’s energy turns a little lighter, his smirk returning. “Let’s just say I enjoy helping you. I want to. Nothin’ owed, except coming by same time next week for your next check. We can talk more then, give y’some time to think.”

Think? About what? You almost scoff, but reign it in at the last second, fighting your eyes from rolling on top of it. “Mr. Miller, this is…” 

“Ridiculous? Is it, really?” 

Oh, he’s good, so convincing when he wants to be. Suave and calculated yet warm at the same time. You understand how he got to be so successful, how so many people likely fall at their feet to just be a part of the air he breathes, the aura he fills a space with. He’s a giant, knowing how to command a room, take up just enough space, yet feel so relatable at the same time.

“I’d feel too guilty…” you say quietly, your shoulders sagging in defeat.

“More guilty than doing this job, droppin’ out of school behind your parents back?”

Your skin is burning up, your brain at war with itself. He’s too insistent, there has to be some angle here that you’re missing, some reason he’d be so kind to you. Leverage - blackmail, maybe - to your father, to be able to hold it over your head to get what he wants at some point.

“Hey, c’mon. I’m serious, sweetheart. Just the check, nothin’ more,” Joel says more urgently, seeing the way you’re starting to waver.

“How can I trust you?” you finally spit out, and Joel leans back in his office chair, just watching where you stand. “I’m sorry, it’s all very nice and everything, but no. I c-can’t. I shouldn’t. I need to do this for myself.”

You turn to leave, and you hear the creak of Joel’s chair as he sits forward, watching you throw the office door open and move with purpose, rushing to get yourself out of this situation as fast as possible. You feel the spell lift immediately now that you’re out of reach, whipping past his fine furnishings and art as you move through the hallway back to the foyer. You hear Joel, hot on your tail, his energy a little more frantic than he’s been as he follows you.

“At least let me drive you home,” he finally offers as he rushes to catch up. You keep moving, shaking your head.

“N-no, I’ll just get a ride or something. Call my driver,” you throw at him over your shoulder, and his hand on your wrist stops you in your path just as the front door is in sight. You fully turn your head to face him now, and his eyes look soft, like he does care.

“Offer’ll stay on the table, okay?” Joel says and you just let your lips part, meeting his gaze for a moment. It’s intense, the standoff between the two of you, his eyes searching for weakness, for any crack that indicates you’ll give in. You offer him a succinct nod, slipping out of his grip and not looking back as you step out into the bright sunlight of the evening, shielding your eyes before pulling out your phone to call Karl, the man who has been your personal driver for years. Your father hired him, but he’s been nothing but loyal to you - you know Karl has kept every secret of where you’ve been, overheard phone calls, arguments with your father. He never says a word, never spreads the information - he’s paid well, and that extra cash pays for his silence.

In the back of the car, your phone buzzes in your lap while you stare contemplatively out the window. You ignore it, letting your eyes glaze over as you watch the houses pass you by on the way out of Joel’s neighborhood and back towards downtown. 

What if this was your chance? Your only option to really get out from underneath your parents? It could be a huge cushion, much more than you’d make doing what you’re doing now. At this rate, it would take ages to get enough to push you through school, where you’d already have to start from scratch, leave Columbia and start an entirely new curriculum, most likely. Find a much cheaper school, then take care of housing, bills, everything on top of it that you’d never been prepared to have to worry about in your life, always promised the comforts of your parents money. You knew you were lucky, going around with your life spoon fed to you, but you wanted to feel something, the part of you that was excited about anything having died off completely when you realized the spoon had been fed to you through a cage. Live this way or we starve you, cut you off.

You sigh, dropping your head into your hand where it rests along the window of the car. The noise of Manhattan traffic goes in one ear and out the other, fading into oblivion as you realize you may have made a mistake by leaving so soon, not hearing Joel out. 

Did you have a choice?

Your phone buzzes again, a reminder of the message from your father you’d ignored and you tear your eyes off the passing landscape to peer down at your lap. Your face falls, brows pushing together when you see it’s an unknown number texting you.

Unknown: If you change your mind, let me know. - JM

How the hell? You stare down at the message, eyes scanning rapidly over the screen in disbelief. You scoff quietly, but find your lips turning into a smile before you can stop it, unconsciously putting your fingers over your them as if Karl seeing you grin like this could give it all away. 

You: How did you get this number?

Joel: I think you underestimate how persistent I can be.

You: Does it hurt your ego to take no for an answer? Is that what this is?

You eagerly lick your lips, smile growing as you find yourself so quick to banter with him. It’s always so much easier over text, you think to yourself, to be a little more bold, a little more careless. Joel had a warm, welcoming energy, but it doesn’t mean you’re immune to the way he charms, the way he seems to be a man who gets what he wants more often than not.

Joel: I think it’ll hurt you more than it does me sweetheart.

You: I’m thinking about it, okay?

Joel: Think away.

You tuck your phone away, flipping it over on your lap so you can’t see the screen anymore, drumming your fingers along the back of the case as you feel a surge of frustration wash over you. If Joel’s offer is genuine, if he really expects nothing in return, you’d be a complete fool to pass it up, right? Who passes up free money? You knew you were screwed either way, really - the job you had right now wasn’t getting you anywhere near achieving your dreams. You needed more, you needed support. Financially first of all, but if you were honest, someone like Joel with some life experience to help you figure out your next steps couldn’t hurt.

Fuck.

You wince and flip your phone back over, unlocking it to where the messages still sit on your screen, taunting you. Your fingers go flying before you can stop yourself, your heart starting to pick up in pace.

You: You’re serious? I wouldn’t owe you anything? Have to pay you back someday?

Joel: Serious as can be.

You: $800 a week. Without tips from lovely clients like you.

Joel is quiet on the other end for a while, slower than his usual response thus far, and your throat gets a little tight. You swear, if he was backing out now, or worse, sending screenshots of your conversation to your father, you were going to have it out with Joel Miller. And it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Instead, a few moments later, a text comes through, a photo. That same checkbook, the background the sleek black surface of his desk, with the top check filled out for four thousand dollars. Signed and everything, with the memo line reading ‘knew you’d make the right choice’. Your hand shakes a little, all of this feeling wrong suddenly now that it's gone this far. 

Joel: 9am tomorrow.

Joel sits back, satisfied as he smirks at his phone. The check lays in front of him, taunting him, his energy buzzing and satisfied picturing your pretty hands taking it from him tomorrow. He sighs heavily, a hand creeping up his thigh to where he’s started to bulge through his black dress slacks. 

“Fuck…” he murmurs quietly to himself as he palms it, his hard and wanting cock desperate for any relief. It would be wrong, should be wrong, if you’re the one involved in all of this. But he can’t care when he pictures your lips smiling with the check in hand, you depositing the money and buying yourself something pretty with it, taking care of bills, getting a nice meal. You spin in a new dress or top, showing it off to him, bought with that chunk of change he’d so willingly given to you. Just the tiniest of dents in his finances, so much more where that came from if you’d let him. He’s hardly realized it, the way his hand had undone his belt and zipper while he got lost in the fantasy, hard cock in his fist as he pictures it over and over. He tries to make it not you, not his friend's daughter as he immerses himself in the scenes, but he’d be remiss if he tried to deny that you’re a gorgeous young woman, that you’d look so good doing everything he’s picturing.

“Fuck, oh god…” Joel whimpers while his hand moves along his cock, slickened from the bit of precum leaking out the tip and the saliva he’d haphazardly spit down there when he started. He stares at the check, your hands on it over and over, your pretty lips and smile and the way he could give you more and more and more until you wanted for nothing. He grunts, hips stuttering forward as he fucks his fist quickly and finds himself coming faster than usual, his release taking him by surprise with a loud moan.

“Christ,” Joel murmurs as he breathes heavily, quickly cleaning himself up with a tissue before rushing to the powder room connected to his office, washing his hands of it all. He stares at himself in the mirror, such a bastard for what he’s doing, all the secrecy inlaid in his plan.

Your father… one of his oldest friends, and this is what he’s doing with that friendship? That empire of business savvy they built together? Years of trust, of advising one another, throwing it all away for a little gratification on his end? No, he knows this is about more than just him, this could really help you if what you said about your father was true. He knows your dad isn’t an easy man to live with - he’s got a short temper and is stubborn as hell, a black and white thinker if there ever was one. If he truly was saying he’d cut you off, then well, Joel was starting to think he’d believe that. 

And he wants to be the one to ease that burden for you.

You fuss with your appearance yet another time, anxiety pooling in your gut as you inspect your hair and complexion, searching for anything amiss. It’s not like Joel hadn’t seen you a complete mess yesterday, your bland outfit so far from what you were used to wearing, your appearance an afterthought as you went into work at an early hour.

But last night, as you tossed and turned, anticipating meeting back up with Joel today, you’d wondered what he expected out of you. Someone pretty to look at, someone deserving of the money? Would you get there and find Joel completely different, taunting the check in your face unless you decided to get on your knees and suck his cock? Let him get a quick fuck in for the money? There was no way he was that charitable, just willing to drop four grand because you’d given him your daddy issues sob story yesterday. 

So what was the catch?

There always was one - men with money didn’t just give it away for free unless it was to charity, wanting to look good. And you surely weren’t a charity case by any means. Sex for money seemed like the next logical option to your tired, frazzled brain as you laid awake in the dark. You didn’t know if he presented it like that, would you go along with it? Would you, this far in already, bring yourself to your knees for him?

Joel Miller is certainly handsome, nobody could deny that, but you’d never thought of him in that way, not really. Maybe noticing his broad, muscled shoulders stretching across his suits when you’d seen him, his cocky, warm smile that seemed to melt hearts everywhere he went. He’d always seemed kind, more amiable than your parents’ insufferable network of friends, which you’d taken notice of and respected Joel for over the years. But you’d never thought of yourself with someone older like him, despite seeing those young dates being toted on wealthy, older men’s arms to all kinds of charity events and parties over the years. Would you want that? To be seen like that?

You feel your skin tingle as the thought comes to you again this morning while you get dressed. Joel Miller in a lavish, designer suit, tailored perfectly to his body, you next to him in an equally gorgeous gown that he paid for, your hand slipped between his body and his thick bicep as he glides into a room full of people with you. And he’s proud of how good you look on his arm, how he can show the world just what he’s bought, what he’s paid for. Your head shakes violently as if to jolt the thought far away from you.

“No…” you whisper to yourself. It wouldn’t get that far, you wouldn’t let it. Maybe you’d just take the one check and run, tell Joel you couldn’t be what he was looking for. But that’s when you realize you don’t even know what it is that he may want to get out of this, the curiosity eating at you. 

That bastard. Such an enigma he’d painted himself as yesterday when he’d so cooly offered you the money like it was no bother, like he’d expected nothing back. There was always something, always a trade - if you learned anything from your father, it was that.

You can't shake that incessant thought, walking up the steps of Joel’s brownstone, hesitantly knocking on his door and swallowing down the lump in your throat. The assistant you’d met yesterday opens it with a polite smile, beaming at you.

“Welcome. Mr. Miller will be right out,” she says, guiding you to a plush daybed off to the side. You just nod, a little dumbfounded as you step back into his grand foyer. It’s a lavish room with tall ceilings, a skylight at the top pouring extra light in along with the floor to ceiling frosted windows on either side of the front door. Joel’s dress shoes click along the floor, the sound bouncing off the walls as you stiffen and then freeze where you sit. You see him come into view, the top button of his pale blue dress shirt unbuttoned, navy slacks adorning the bottom of his look. He looks a little frazzled himself, like he’d tossed and turned just as much as you had last night. You hadn’t considered the possibility that Joel could have reservations about this now, too, since he’d been the one so eager to offer it up yesterday. 

“Thanks, Clara,” Joel says kindly, giving her a nod before Clara skirts along the edge of the room, dismissing herself at Joel’s signal. You watch her go, confidently striding away before you skim your eyes up to Joel’s face, trying not to look too guilty.

“Back this way,” he says, holding out a hand in the direction of his office as if you weren’t here only yesterday. You stand, meeting him, and he quickly takes you in, noticing your complete change in style from yesterday - dressed much more like the businesswoman he knows you loath with a pencil skirt on. He tries not to laugh at the irony as you follow him back, taking that same path you’d just been on yesterday, a strange sense of deja vu washing over you. 

You’re silent, just trying to breathe, to remember to stand your ground, not do anything you don’t absolutely want to do. You haven’t signed a contract, you aren’t bound to this, you two are just… talking. Joel smirks as he eyes you, clearly trying to walk in with confidence, but he knows this look - you’re apprehensive about the arrangement, you have questions. They always have questions. 

He curves around his desk, pulling out his highback office chair and sinks into it, you doing the same in one of the sleek armchairs in front of his desk. It feels too much like a professional meeting, and your skin prickles with discomfort at how formal this all seems now. His fingers scratch along the checkbook on the desk, and you salivate as you keep widened eyes on it, knowing the number written on there, the promise of more of it to come. Your way out.

“So…” Joel says cooly, letting his hands link together and pulling them behind his head as he leans back a bit, the picture of relaxation. “Let’s talk.”

Is this some kind of sugar daddy situation, or what?

Joel laughs, a genuine smile across his face at your blunt question as he sits across from you. 

“Well, in a lot of ways, I ‘spose it is,” he answers casually and honestly. You don’t understand how he can maintain this cool facade, this relaxed attitude given the circumstances. You’d think something so awkward and uncomfortable could get anyone frazzled, but then again, you take it this isn’t Joel’s first go-around with this type of offer. He goes on. “I’ll try to be blunt for both our sakes. We’re busy people. I want to… go beyond jus’ the checks. I’d pay for your lifestyle - school, car, whatever you want. Treat you, too. Give you money for all the things your pretty little heart desires, see you enjoyin’ it.”

That was not what you’d expected him to say. You stare wordlessly, stunned, expecting him to go on, to tell you now what you have to do to earn all of it. He remains quiet though, finally looking the tiniest bit sheepish as the both of you size each other up. 

“…And you get?” you finally ask, your face screwed up in confusion as you shrug, throwing your hands up.

Joel smirks again, and you notice the dimple on the side of his face that he seems to prefer tilting his mouth upwards. “I get exactly that. What I said. You enjoyin’ it.”

Your mouth hangs open slightly, eyes narrowing in his direction. You give a tiny shake of your head. “No… there has to be something. One day you’ll turn it around on me, blackmail me or something.”

Joel laughs again, and you’re starting to get irritated at how blasé he seems about all of this. Your foot starts to tap anxiously on the rug underneath your feet, arms crossing over your chest. You try to remain unimpressed as you stare him down, but he’s not budging in the slightest, remaining cool as ever. 

“You really think that’s the kind of guy I am, do you now?” he asks with amusement. 

You scoff, pinching the inside of your lip between your teeth. “How should I know? You offer me a bunch of money and we hardly know each other, Mr. Miller.”

“First off, Joel, please, unless you’re into that, I ‘spose.” He gives you a suave smirk and your lips part a little, cheeks heating almost immediately at his words and their insinuation before you check yourself, turning back to the conversation. You’re determined not to let his charm get in the way of you walking out of here with your future secured.

“Okay, then, Joel. I just… you don’t want something from me in return? It’s not that I’m not grateful, I just can’t understand.” You tut and glance around the room for a moment to collect your thoughts. “I mean you get it, right? People with money always want something out of it. I’ve seen it my entire life.”

Joel gives you an understanding look. “I do, I get it, sweetheart. If you want me to want somethin’ out of it…” he trails off, pondering for a moment. “If that’d make you feel better about takin’ the money, then why don’t y’come spend some time with me. Let me take you out, or jus’ come by for a nice dinner, me ‘n you. Get to know each other a little, keep an old man company, hm?”

You roll your eyes with a breathy chuckle pushing out of you, feeling yourself relaxing the tiniest bit at his appeal. “Really trying to play the sympathy card calling yourself old, I see,” you say, quirking a teasing brow. You grow more serious with your next words, worrying that you’re signing yourself up for something you aren’t sure you want or even understand. “But uh, I… could do that… if that’s all you want.”

Joel’s gears are turning, and you see a flash of recognition across his face as it falls a little. He leans forward, propping his forearms on the desk, his brows knit tight and eyes narrowed while they watch you. “D’you think I expect you to sleep with me?”

You nearly choke on nothing, just the air that you’re now fighting to gasp in as you clear your throat. Your cheeks burn like something fierce, that notion you’d been so worried about as you tossed and turned last night now sounding so obscenely ridiculous when Joel says it out loud. 

“I - I thought maybe that was how this sort of arrangement worked, l-like an unspoken expectation or something. But if you’re saying no -“

“I’m saying no.” Joel is hard with the words, concise, and his gaze ices over. He was kidding himself if he thought he wasn’t even remotely attracted to you, but he was already putting himself in a precarious enough spot with the secrecy of giving you this money behind your father’s back, let alone deciding to bring something as complicated as sex into it. 

You didn’t need to know that just the thought of handing you this check made him start to get hard inside his slacks. You didn’t need to know that this wasn’t the first arrangement of this kind for him, the only difference being that most of them involved a relationship of some type, or at least something physical once and a while. There had been times it was just about the money, and sometimes that was enough to satisfy him without the women having to fall into his bed, too. He’d hated that he fell into such a cliche - wealthy older man toting around a younger, gorgeous woman on his arm - but he’d come to accept it by now that this was who he was, trying to come to terms with the shame of it.

“Right… right, good,” you confirm, trying to sound equally as sure. What was that you were feeling? Disappointment? Relief? All you could sense for certain was the way your stomach tightened with nerves as you delved into this conversation with Joel. 

“We got enough on our plate without all that, don’t you think?” he asks, a very roundabout way of putting it, you think. Maybe he’s too afraid to hurt your feelings or directly tell you that he’s not interested in sleeping with you, even if that’s what he’d normally do in a situation like this. Joel Miller was nothing if not direct, though, you’d noticed in the last two days. You aren’t even sure why you’re thinking this way - it’s not like you’d really shown much interest in Joel, never thinking of him as accessible in that way. It never went past him being an extended part of your family, one of your father’s inner circle. So if he didn’t want to have sex with you, fine, your ego could take the hit. 

“Jus’ the money, helpin’ out a family friend who needs it,” Joel adds, seeing the way you’re a bit lost in thought. You bring yourself back, meeting Joel’s eyes, noticing the rich color of them in the early daylight streaming into his office. They’re so warm despite the chilly facade he can put on. 

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah, when you put it like that… I mean we go way back, right? You’re practically family.” You cringe at the words, kind of hating the implication when you’re half flirting with the man and then proceeding to call him your family. “Uh, well, you know what I mean…”

Joel chuckles again, and you return it a bit nervously. “I do, sweetheart. Known your daddy a long time, so I’m trying to be, as dumb as it sounds, respectful.”

Fuck my father, your mind churns out in a flash, not daring to mutter it under your breath. Fuck him for putting you in this position, pushing you to this point where you’ve ended up in Joel Miller’s office, about to become his latest sugar baby because your dad can’t figure out how to love his only child apart from what it could bring to his business.

“Yeah…” you say, putting on a grin that you fear may have started to turn a little diabolical.  “Respectful.” You’d be lying to yourself if you thought that this wasn’t starting to entice you more, the idea of such a big screw you to your father.

“So let’s talk terms…” Joel starts more pragmatically, picking up that same pen from the little box on his desk, tapping it on the hard surface a few times before he holds it over a blank page on an open black leather bound notebook. “I like t’start at five hundred for allowance. See how it goes. Then up to two thousand. An’ that’s just for you, and you alone. Your bills will come to me. Your apartment, tuition, your car, anything that’s a bill, I don’t want to see a cent of that allowance come out for it. Is that clear?”

Your mouth is slowly opening to gape at him, eyes tracking across his face as you try to follow what he’s saying, thinking it must be a joke. “S-sorry, but two thousand dollars? A… month?” you ask incredulously. That already sounds like too much to be going from Joel’s pocket to yours if he’s also taking care of your bills.

Joel goes completely smug, lips pressed tightly into a smirk. “You’re cute,” he deadpans. “Per week, sweetheart.” 

You almost gasp, shaking your head. “I- no, I just need money for school, to make sure I can do any major I want in school, I don’t n-“

“Shh,” Joel interrupts you. “You came here lookin’ for my help, and this is how I like to do things. You deserve to have fun, not just pay for classes and have no extra money f’yourself.”

“I have plent-“ you start, referring to the extensive funds you have access to thanks to your parents. Funds that you do realize could be ripped out from underneath you at any time, you realize all over again with a quick jolt of fear. 

“Enough,” Joel snips, raising a hand, palm facing you for further effect. “If what you tell me is true, I think your daddy ain’t gonna be too keen to pay for all your favorite things you’re used to gettin’ when he learns the truth, is he?”

You look down, ashamed. Were you really that shallow? Is that how you’d been raised to be? Joel sees through your facade right to your designer bag and clothes, all the expensive things you’d gotten accustomed to. But he doesn’t judge you for it - he understands it and he’s a part of that world, whether he likes it or not.

“No…” you murmur in defeat.

“And I’d like to keep seeing you in pretty things: nice clothes, shoes, gettin’ yourself pampered. So, two thousand dollars per week once you earn it.” He grins, setting the pen down and folding his hands together on his desk. You stay quiet, letting him go on, your heart steadily thrumming in your chest louder and louder with every word he says. 

“Weekly allowance is, of course, a suggestion. If you need somethin’ more, you ask me. And otherwise, I’ll set your bills, tuition, all of it, to be paid by me.”

“I mean, weekly allowances?” you sputter out, “This is a sugar daddy thing.”

Joel doesn’t waver, he just smiles a little at you, completely unfazed. “We can call it whatever you want, but I see you want it too. I’m gonna be straight w’you here - I want to do this. I like you. I think you’ve got spunk and deserve to carve out a place for yourself in this world. Doin’ something you want, not half heartedly runnin’ your dad’s company someday. So… Do you still want this?” he asks, picking up the check, holding it out towards you. “Don’t think you’d be here if you didn’t.”

Joel’s face is kind, like he’s listening, attentive, acting like he doesn’t have a plethora of meetings or things on his plate today, which you know he must. He’s content to hear you, if you have something to say. You feel your whole body sitting tense and rigid in his chair, your mind spinning. It’s all becoming too much, this idea you had to get out on your own seems to be poked with more holes every day you’ve been trying to work and save up. You don’t really have much of a concept of money, once again thanks to your parents who never thought to put in the effort of teaching you. Why bother when there’s so much of it to go around?

“I- I know… what I’m doing now, the house cleaning, isn’t going to cut it long term. Especially if my parents find out I’ve been bullshitting them before I can save up enough for school and stuff… I just don’t k-“ you clear your throat, holding back the way your voice wants to crack as you fight tears springing to your eyes. “I feel so out of my depth,” you sigh. “I have so much to learn about real life and it’s been so… overwhelming.” 

You breathe out a shaky breath, feeling your chest loosen a bit - you’d been holding this all in, doing it on your own for weeks now, not even able to trust your friends with the information even if just to vent about it because everyone in your world always has an angle. It’s exhausting. 

Joel hears your words and stands up, going the few paces around his desk to stand next to you. He lays a hand on your shoulder, and you look up from where you sit, seeing him through slightly watery eyes, but you refuse to cry and break down in front of Joel. It would be too embarrassing to recover from. But you’d be damned if you didn’t feel like you were about to snap in half, holding in your tears for weeks now as you navigated this foolish path you’d set yourself on.

He gives your shoulder a squeeze before moving to sit down next to you, turning the identical chair to face you more, settling himself down and crossing one ankle over his knee. He leans towards you, and you do the same, angling your body in the chair to face him. His gaze is so steady and clear, giving you that full sense of his presence once again.

“Y’know…” he starts, scratching a hand through his beard. “I think you’ve got more potential than you’re givin’ yourself credit for.”

You snort, a tiny scoffing sound. “Oh yeah?” you spit out sarcastically, “That I have no experience, no references, nothing to show for all the time I wasted doing what my dad wanted? Except for a last name and a family that people recognize.”

Joel tuts and bites the inside of his lip. “You’re smart and so young with all this potential. You know this kinda talk ain’t gonna get you anywhere. Neither is feelin’ sorry for yourself. All you can do is use the opportunities you’re given, like this one landing in your lap from me today. Right?”

“Y-yeah, I mean, I guess you’re right. This just feels… kind of wrong.”

“Well we ain’t a couple of saints for doing this behind your daddy’s back, that’s for sure.”

You find yourself chuckling softly amidst the seriousness of the situation weighing on your chest. You honestly don’t have a clue how your father would react if he found out about this - he’s unpredictable and stubborn, and you’ve seen his vindictive side more than a handful of times. It makes your stomach clench a little at the thought of him unleashing any of that in your direction. You strengthen your resolve, unwilling to let your father stop you from exploring new horizons any longer. It was your life to live, and it was about time you did what you wanted.

“A-alright,” you tell Joel, sighing out a calming breath and sitting up straighter. “Alright, I’m in, then. What’s next?”

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[moonstruckme]

hi mae, if its not too much trouble could you do something with james and r where r has to deal with likr a creep on a train or smth. ive just had a real weird experience rn and its just.hm

Ugh I'm so sorry babe, I wish we each had a James with us all the time

cw: man being creepy (no sa or harassment, just gross behavior)

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 934 words

You clock the danger long before your boyfriend does, but you suppose it’s a lot more drilled into one of you than the other. 

The man gets on a few stops after you do, and his gaze seems aimless until it lands on you. It’s not a busy time; the bus is nearly empty, but of course he goes and stands next to you as if there are no open seats. You should have known better than to sit by the aisle. 

James’ chatter fades into the background as your mind starts to whirl with possibilities. What if this man grabs you? What if he tries to keep you from getting off at your stop? What if he waits until you get off, and then follows you home? 

“Hey.” James is looking at you quizzically. He reaches for your opposite arm, scrubbing up and down lightly. “You okay?” 

You use the touch as an excuse to lean into his side, murmuring so the man can’t hear you. “If that guy’s still here when it’s my stop, will you get off with me? Or I could ride to yours, if that’s better.” 

James looks past you, noticing the man for the first time, and you see clarity dawn on his expression as he does the same math you had. You can feel the man’s stare burning into the side of your head; he’s not even being subtle about it. James pulls you closer to his side. 

“Hey, mate,” he says, tension underlying his jovial tone. “Do you wanna take a seat? There are plenty open.” 

You chance a look over, and the man’s eyes lock with yours like it’s the opportunity he’s been waiting for. You feel James’ arm tense. 

“You have pretty hair,” the man says. 

You smile tersely. Polite, carefully unfriendly. “Thanks.” 

That seems to satisfy him; the man does take a seat. The one directly behind you. Anxiety prickles over your skin at not being able to see him. 

You at least feel better now that James is aware, too. He keeps his face turned to you, one eye on the seat behind you, as he picks up your conversation about the film you’ve just seen. Remus and Sirius were the ones who wanted to see it in the cinema; they thought it was artistic and meaningful, whereas you and James are in agreement it was dull and pretentious. Odd, aimless dialogue, experimental camera angles, hardly any plot. James thinks if you can get Sirius away from Remus he’ll agree. Competitive thing that he is, he’s hatching a plan to do so when the man leans forward and pushes his nose into your hair. 

The sound of his inhale sends goosebumps racing down every inch of your skin. You go rigid, attempting subtly to lean forward while all the nerves in your body scream at you to run. 

“Hey, what the fuck?” James doesn’t take care to lower his voice. 

As though you’d been waiting for permission, you jump away, getting as far out of reach as possible before turning around. James’ arm has barred across the back of your seat, his hand gripping the pole on the opposite side and the muscles in his forearm strained with tension. 

“What makes you think you can do that to someone?” he asks, equal parts incredulous and irate. 

People in the bus have turned to look. The bus slows as you approach the next stop. 

“Let’s get off,” you tell James. 

“What?” He turns to you for a second before seeming to remember he should be keeping an eye on the man. Who has been silent, but for what he said to you. He looks entertained by James’ outburst, which almost scares you worse than anything that’s happened thus far. You know James is very fit, but you don’t want to get him in a fight. “Why should we get off? We haven’t done anything wrong!” 

The doors open, and people start to file off. “James,” you say, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and giving a slight tug. “Please.” 

He hesitates a second longer, looking somewhere between bewildered and outraged, before he says, “Fine, okay,” and grabs your bag. You tug him into the aisle, careful to keep both of you out of reach of the man. Once you’re off the bus, you start walking quickly, pulling James along and casting glances over your shoulder to be sure the man from the bus doesn’t follow. It’s only when the bus pulls away and he hasn’t gotten off that you stop. 

“Ugh.” You heave a tremendous sigh, hugging James around the middle and dropping your forehead to his chest. “Sorry.” 

“That was fucking insane,” he says, cupping the back of your head protectively. “Does that happen to you often?” 

You let out a little laugh. “That specifically? No. But I know better than to talk to guys like that.” 

“Sorry.” James kisses your hairline. Lets his lips rest there. “I thought it was going to help.” 

“It’s not your fault, he was going to be weird either way. I’m really glad you were there.” 

He squeezes you tighter. It helps you release the tension from your shoulders, giving in to him. “That was fucking disgusting,” he says. “I’m sorry I’m ever not there.” 

You shudder. “Is it weird that I feel like I need to shower?” 

“Nope. But do it at mine. I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about that guy finding your place for the next several days.” 

“How would he do that, James?” 

“Dunno. But just to be safe.”

[seungfl0wer]

*𝙏𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙊𝙛 𝙔𝙤𝙪*

Pairing: Changbin x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut (not much plot)

Warnings: Riding, Oral (M), Nipple Play/Sucking, Creampie, Unprotected Sex, sorry for any mistakes or missing warnings.

A/N: This is a bit short and rushed. I hope you guys still enjoy it though.

Find Request Here

-🖤

Changbin has been having a rough week, everything just kept going wrong. First it was a song not saving, then spilling his water all over his new headphones. You could tell he was stressed and just mentally exhausted. When he came home plopping himself down in bed with a sigh you hatched a plan. You straddled him before kissing him lovingly. His hands instinctively came up to grab your hips. Kissing you back lazily.

Pulling away from the kiss you watched him chase after your lips making you giggle. “Binnie you’ve had such a rough week, how about you just relax and I take care of you yeah?” You said with a smile.

“Yeah?” He said raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah! Let me top you? Let me ride your worries away” you said bitting your lip. He nods before getting himself all comfortable. He hummed contently as you kissed down his bear chest. Leaving soft purple marks against his perfect body. Kissing down further you swiftly pulled his boxers down. Rubbing his thick toned thighs. You massaged the muscle making him sigh in relief.

“You’ve worked so hard Binnie, you deserve to be cared for” you said softly before kissing his thighs. You wrapped your hand around his thick length pumping it a few times before leaving small pecks to his head. He let out a soft groan only to be met with a long low moan when you sucked on his tip. You took extra time to lick over his head, getting all the leaking precum.

You moved your head down slowly taking him all in before bobbing your head. Hand coming up to play with his balls. You gently massaged them as you sucked his cock. His hands coming down to wrap around your hair. He watched as you bobbed your head on his length, eyes fluttering open and close. “You take such good care of me sweetheart” he hummed.

You looked up at him with smiling eyes before taking him all the way back. His head hitting the back of your throat. His head fell back letting out huffs of breath. You kept him deep in your mouth swirling your tongue around him. “F-fuck just like that” he said with a soft moan.

You hit a sensitive spot making him buck his hips up chasing that feeling. You licked over it a few more times as his mouth sagged open. He looked like he was almost drooling at the feeling. You sucked him sloppily bobbing your head a bit faster before pulling away. A string of saliva still connecting you to him.

You looked up at him with cock drunk eyes before quickly ridding yourself of your panties tossing them to the side. You crawled yourself up to him your soaked cunt rubbing against his cock. He cupped your face pulling you into a sloppy kiss. His hands gripped at your hips tightly trying to move you against him. “Someone’s a little needy hmm?” You said against his lips.

“A-always needy when it comes to you” he choked out. You moved from his lips kissing down to his neck once more before nipping at the soft skin. He groaned bucking his hips up against your folds.

You moved yourself back, leaning back you grabbed his cock. Rubbing it up your cunt before pushing the head against your cock. You slowly sank down on him, feeling his thick girth filling your hole. As you started to move a bit he let out a low moan mouth gaping open at the feeling of your warm walls. “Sweet-sweetheart please move”

“Anything you want my sweet binnie” you said before moving your hips taking him all the way in. You bounced your ass up and down, his hands quick to grab ahold of the soft squishy flesh. His cock was hitting you so deep, your legs already feeling a bit jelly like. You repositioned yourself before bouncing faster.

You watched as his face contorted in pleasure drool rolling down the side of his face. His eyes fluttered open and close gargled moans leaving his mouth. “Shit- y/n fuck- fuck” he groaned. He smacked your ass before thrusting upwards to meet your movements. Your walls clenched around him as his cock hit harshly against your cervix. You could feel him so deep so far inside you.

Your head fell back feeling so close to cumming. His hands roamed up to your chest playing with your nipples as they bounced so nicely. He pulled your body down burring his face into your chest. He sucked on your nipples, rolling the sensitive buds against his tongue. “You gonna cum sweetheart? I can tell you’re close”

You nodded feeling yourself clench around him. He moved his head pulling you down into a heated kiss. His tongue sloppily lapping at yours. Hand coming down to play with your clit making your body shutter at the feeling. You kept moving your hips even though you were so close to tipping over the edge. However he knew you were close by the way your walls were sucking him perfectly.

“Y/n- sweetheart- please I’m gonna cum. Cum with me? Please I need you to make a mess on me” he all but whimpered.

“Close- I’m so close” you whined out.

He pinched your clit gently thrusting up into you a few harsh times before he felt you cum hard around him. His cock buried deep inside painting your walls white. His arms came to wrap around you holding you tightly against his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

“Remind me to let you do that more often” he said with a breathy chuckle.

“Liked it?” You said.

“Definitely did” he said kissing you softly. “Hey let’s go take a nice warm shower hmm? And then we can walk down to the store and get some dinner?” He asked.

“Sounds perfect” you said with a smile.

“Not as perfect as you are” he said kissing you one last time.

After a relaxing shower you headed to the store getting some much needed food. Coming back you laid in bed snacking on your food. “Thanks sweetheart, I’m so lucky to have you” he said kissing your cheek.

“Don’t mentioned it, it was my pleasure” you winked.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget

[cheesus-doodles]

Letters

Yandere Rollo

Masterlist | TWST Masterlist

‎

i like my repressed christian boys a lot if yall can't tell ;-;, couldn't pass up on this....tr will be back on schedule next!

Rollo Flamme never imagined himself as simply ordinary. He had always been destined to be extraordinary, committed and focused, willing to put in the work to achieve perfection. Yes, there was no doubt that there were ways to go to meet his goals, seeing as his fire lily plan went up in flames on first contact with that wretched Malleus Draconia and his Night Raven buddies despite his months of meticulous planning and careful scheming.

Yet here he was, walking at a speed Rollo hoped didn’t divulge how fast his heart was pounding away, your letter carefully tucked away deep within his robes, pressed right up against his chest. Green eyes concentrated on nothing but his next step, his poker-face and overall reputation as the Student Council President a god-sent for keeping unwanted attention away as he cut a path through the school towards his room, hands clasped in front of him as they always were. 

Outside the gates of Noble Bell College, Fleur City was as lively as ever, the hustle and bustle of a city coming back to life under the gentle evening sun echoed throughout the conversely silent campus as people enjoyed busking in the remaining sunlight after a long day of work. It was an exceptionally cool day too, the white-haired boy noted to himself, the breeze sweeping down the hallways and bursting forth into the open air strong enough to lift the ends of his robes.

A respectful mumble of “Rollo-kaicho” rose from the scatter of students milling around as he walked past, though nothing that a returned nod of acknowledgement couldn’t settle.

The peacefulness that blanketed the stately campus as the sun sank further and further down the horizon reminded him much of the night of the Young Mage’s Social ball, and more so, you. Rollo could recall that particular evening with perfect clarity, the sights and sounds replaying again in his head as the purple-clad mage made his way indoors, the old wooden door swinging shut behind him with nay a creak, shutting out both the wind and the sounds of the city.

‎

His own footsteps were the only sound ringing across otherwise empty corridors as the boy turned the situation he had found himself unexpectedly stuck in over and over again in his mind. It had never been his intention to fall over his own set trap, yet how was it he did so anyway despite all his wariness and discipline?

This had all begun as a plot for revenge right after he had been bested, by villains no less. It would be hard for Rollo to even admit that he had come to terms with the beating he received several months ago, let alone the night after it happened, and his next plot had already begun to hatch the moment you swept into view dressed in your masquerade costume, accompanied by none other than Malleus himself. From everything he witnessed, it was clear that the Draconia housewarden cared greatly for you, and dare he guess, maybe even had some unexpressed feelings for you. 

Not that he hadn’t noticed you before that night, but it was certainly the first time that he had come to realize just how central a place you held among the Night Raven College students, and how crucial a card you would be in his next plan to wipe that smug smirk off of that wretched fae prince’s face.

The night of the Young Mages’ Social ball had been surprisingly ordinary, given what had just happened. He had been exhausted and dead on his feet, even if he showed no sign of it outwardly; the orderliness of the hall that he painstakingly cleaned after the last fire lotus had withered was a welcomed sight. Alas there was no time for sleep, not that it would matter given his already heavy eyebags. But despite his state, you had instantly caught his eye at the start of the ball, quietly huddled towards the back of the Night Raven group, trying your best to look anywhere but at him or at the rest of the crowd as you and your friends were singled out as the saviors of Fleur City. And it was obvious that you were feeling even more out-of-place as the dance began in earnest, though whether it was from the crowds or just general awkwardness, Rollo could not say.

Taking his leave from the merrymaking, the white-haired Council President could find no surprise within him when he found you sitting alone later outside of the hall, enjoying the peace and quiet that had fallen over the city with the arrival of night, looking up at the blanket of stars, a glass of what looked like juice in your hand.

“May I join you?”

You had jumped at his words, though you did settle quickly upon realizing it was just him for reasons unbeknownst to Rollo. “By all means,” you replied, waving him down to join you. After all, he did just try to essentially kill your friends and all mages in general. Perhaps you knew something he didn’t, the purple-clad student mused to himself, subtly watching you from the corner of his pale green eyes. Or perhaps you were just presumptuous, given you hadn’t been affected as badly as the rest.

The dark sky was clear of clouds, the dark of space dotted with twinkles as far as the eye could see, the moon hanging alone amidst the barren sky; an alluring sight for weary souls - and judging from how discreetly you had excused yourself from the social, you definitely were tired. 

A pause as Rollo took a seat a respectful distance from you. “Too much?”

You nodded. “Too much.”

Whatever it was, you seemingly held no ill will towards Rollo, simply accepting his quiet company. And so the two of you sat in comfortable silence as the young mages danced and laughed the night away just a stone’s throw away. The minutes melted into hours as the world continued to turn, though the calmness of the reality around him was a far cry from the turmoil of thoughts within his head. 

When the night started to grow old and the cacophony of noises began to die down, it was as if an unheard bell had gone off, and you reluctantly stood, empty glass now in hand - your friends were bound to come looking for you should they notice you were missing. And with you leaving soon and that night being the last one you were spending at Noble Bell College, it was finally time to launch the first phase of his plan.

”I would like to write to you,” Rollo started, immediately cringing internally as the words left his lips, but there was no going back now. “If it is alright with you.”

He held his breath as you considered his request, your head cocking to the side as you contemplated. “Sure, why not?” You shrugged, shooting him a light smile, your hair gleaming in the waning moonlight. “Goodnight, Rollo.”

Exhale. And that was that.

‎

But now here he was, Rollo mused, eagerly anticipating the opportunity to read your letter alone. Has his plan gone astray? He shook his head, attempting to clear his thoughts of you, just till he could be alone. For all his routine and self-discipline, you were the one temptation he couldn’t seem to get squash down.

Coming to a pause at the fork in the hallway, the Noble Bell Council President paused. The last thing he wanted was to be interrupted tonight in the midst of his much-needed analysis of your letter, so against the burning desires of his heart and the weight of your letter heavy in his robes, he forced himself to take a detour, his feet carrying him down sparse corridors towards the councilrooms. It was easy to spot his Vice President still hard at work amidst the otherwise empty room, scouring through a stack of papers at his desk, head down and pen scribbling away.

A quiet clearing of his throat was enough to get the attention of the occupant inside. “Rollo-kaicho!” Said student rocketed up from his seat, hurriedly adjusting his slipping striped cap. “What brings you here at this time of day?”

“I wanted to check in before I retired for the day,” replied the white-haired boy, giving a courteous glance to the rest of the unoccupied desks before returning his gaze to the other. “Is there anything I should know about?”

The Noble Bell Vice President stuttered for a moment, lost for words and wrecking his tired brain in an attempt to find what to say. “I-uh-“

Pulling out his celestial-patterned handkerchief, his movement just barely managed to cover the disgusted look that fell over his expression, eyes narrowing and eyebrows furrowing as the stench of magic overwhelmed his senses, though Rollo still managed to keep his tone neutral. Even if he was the one to initiate contact, that hardly made a difference with his nausea. “It’s fine,” the magic-adverse mage managed to grit out without a hint of distaste, his tone as neutral as it always has been. “Please have the points ready for me tomorrow morning.”

“Of course, Rollo-kaicho. I apologize again.”

‎

Finally being able to lock his room door behind him brought a relief much like cold water over hot iron, ending the depraved pulsing in his mind that the mere presence of the envelope in his robes against his chest brought on with every passing second. Tossing the heinous paper carelessly onto his well-worn table top, Rollo instead hurriedly picked it back up again, pale green eyes scanning for any further damage he had caused, though fortunately there was none to be found.

Letting out a sigh of relief, the white-haired boy settled into his chair. Now, to satisfy both his curiosity and anticipation.

Trembling fingers carefully peeled open the envelope, revealing a slightly yellowed, unevenly folded paper much to Rollo’s chagrin - he would have much preferred if you used a perfect white piece of paper, quality stationery instead of this random piece you must have had left over from your homework, and if you had folded it the same way he did all this time. But he supposed he couldn’t expect that high a standard from you, given the riff-raff of mages you found yourself in the company of. As he gently freed your letter from its paper enclosure, his sensitive nose caught a whiff of a familiar scent, the smell probably having lingered on from when you first mailed it out.

The light fragrance of your favorite shampoo, Rollo deduced, bringing the paper up to his nose. He recognized it, no matter how faint it was. You must have just finished showering when you wrote and sealed the letter if the aroma still endured. A breath of fresh air amidst the rank odor of magic and mages.

And then he began to read.

Dear Rollo, the letter began as it always did, those two words enough to have his heart skip a beat like nothing else could. But this time, the next few that followed were even better. Your letter came late, and it was sorely missed.

Line by line, you spelled out your daily ongoings, your interactions with your fellow schoolmates, your inner thoughts. Rambling about anything and everything that came to mind, thoughts spilling out without filter straight onto paper. About how Grimm (that filthy magic cat) nearly failed his test again and about how Deuce and Ace got into their latest spat of trouble with their housewarden Riddle. About how Jack and Epel were like to work with on your history project, and how you felt about one of your lunches being stolen by Leona.

Just like that, the minutes slipped through his finger, and with a pang in his heart, Rollo came to the end of your letter.

He placed the paper down on the paper, taking a breath.

How was it that he could feel so attached to another person through a simple piece of paper? How did you ensnare him so effortlessly, bypassing his hard-fought discipline as if it didn’t exist? Did all this mean that his revenge plot against Malleus had already gone awry?

‎

The night was cool and quiet, the moonlight that shone through his stained glass windows bringing the Noble Bell Council President back to that fateful night. A light gust of wind seeped in through a small crack, creaking the old wooden panels in the floor as it blew through his room. 

Your writing had improved, Rollo noted, as per his guidance in his previous letter. You were using a ruler to ensure straight lines, and your handwriting had neaten greatly; a far cry from your first reply to him, the memory of those scrawling letters that ran up and done and every-which way except straight across the paper still causing shivers to run down his spine. That was bad.

Carefully and painstakingly refolding the paper, Rollo stood, returning it to its envelope before moving to stow the letter within his secret compartment above the fireplace, with previous letters neatly arranged upright according to date received. His fingers lightly brushed past all your correspondence with him, his chest fluttering at your willingness to speak with him, his mind already churning with how and what he should reply to you. Would you be interested in perhaps coming back to Noble Bell? Maybe he should visit Night Raven College? Even if that blasted Draconia was there, it would be worth it just to have some private, personal time with you, the white-haired mage calculated, his hand tapping an unknown rhythm across his desk that he now leaned against.

‎

There was no point in denying his obsession with you, not at this point - it had been awhile since you started to occupy his every waking moment and thoughts, and being as organized and detailed as Rollo was, he could pinpoint the exact moment when he began to spiral. Sure, his first letter had been full of nothings, meaningless pleasantries and stories that he polished to perfection over the course of a night of restlessness. But what he got back was your heart on your sleeve, your mind like an open book for him to pick apart and examine.

As things turned out, the more he picked, the more he found. Questions he sent always came back answered, with you evidently letting slip more than you intended to originally say, sometimes directly and sometimes when he read between the lines. 

A single line in your third reply to him was all it took to begin his unending slide. 

You were from a different world.

The more he sat on it, turning it around and round in his mind, the more his chest grew warm, and you began his center of focus. Even the mere passing pondering of what you were doing now was enough to grip Rollo’s entire being, to have his heart rate increase and his thoughts to jumble. After all, in this foul, tainted world, there could be no purer person than someone who came from a place where no magic exists.

You were perfection embodied. 

In a twist of fate, you turned out to be pure, a shining beacon amidst the foul-smelling heathens. A gift from the heavens, a blessings from the divine meant for none other than him, that no one could properly appreciate except for him. Sure you weren’t the most orderly, and you did have your moments where you were occasionally wowed by magic, especially the inhuman feats from that wretched Malleus Draconia, but you remained untainted despite your constant proximity to the taint of magic that surrounded and cloaked you as if a heavy fog. Never indicated anything more than a passing interest in the magic that your companions wielded and an admiration that Rollo was sure he could rid you off. All you needed was time away from those mages, spent instead in his company.

‎

Stepping away from his desk and moving now towards his personal bathroom, Rollo came to the answer he had been looking for as the boy moved to undress himself for a nighttime shower. It had been in front of him all this time.

The answer was no. 

No, he hadn’t forsaken his plan to wield you against Malleus; sure the exact details had changed as the months went by, but everything he did was as he had schemed. Just that now, you didn’t have to be a means to an end, you didn’t need to be just another casualty wrecked up amidst his crusade against the villains. Stealing you away from the fae prince would be one of the largest blows he could deal with to that condescending prick, the beginning of his downfall - the excitement tingling at Rollo’s arms as he imagined the crestfallen expression that would twist Draconia’s face, the streak-free bathroom mirror reflecting the pale green eyes that lighted up in callous pleasure.

It would be glorious.

But for now, Rollo determined, schooling his face back into its usual neutral look as he turned to step into the shower room, what he needed to concentrate on was his next letter to you.

[jayparked]

revenge for my valentine | kim sunoo

SYNOPSIS: after you and your coworker sunoo are both dumped by your long-term partners — heeseung and karina, who then start dating each other — you’ve had enough of wallowing in self-pity. with the valentine’s day office party just around the corner, you and sunoo decide it’s time to stop feeling sorry for yourselves. instead of letting your exes steal the spotlight, you hatch a plan to make them regret the way they ended things. this valentine’s day, it’s all about having your cake and eating it too

PAIRING: coworker!kim sunoo x female reader ; ft: y/n's ex!heeseung x sunoo's ex!karina

GENRE: smut, slight angst

AU: fake dating, coworkers to ???

RATING: explicit/18+, minors dni

WORD COUNT: 12.1k (gasp snail wrote porn WITH plot)

WARNINGS: semi public sex (they get walked in on), sex at work!, protected sex, big dick sunoo!, sex without orgasming, sunoo rips your underwear, titty fondling, gross makeout sessions, lots of internal conflict

SNAIL TRAIL: just...trust me on this...pls...give it a chance...even if you don't see sunoo in a sexual way like that...just TRUST ME. either way happy valentines day to each and every one of you! if no one asked you to be their valentine, this is my formal confession to you and i'm now your honorary valentine teehee

thank you @dazzlingjaeyun for betaing for me and thank you to @sungbeams for encouraging me and listening to me complain about this for what feels like years. you both have provided me with such endless and selfless support i can't thank either of you enough. ich hab’ dich lieb

The sharp edges of the invitation threaten to prick through your skin as you grip it too tightly, fingers starting to numb from holding this position for so long. The tremble in your hands is hard to miss, your breath hitches and a sharp pain twists in your chest. Heeseung and Karina are skipping about the office, merrily handing out invitations to their fabulous Valentine's Day party they'll be throwing, oblivious to the knife they’ve just stabbed in your heart. Or maybe it was intentional with the way Karina’s fingers lingered on the envelope when she handed it to you, tongue poking past the side of her lips while she looked you up and down before trotting off. Every coworker in sight is approached with boisterous smiles and batting eyelashes from the couple, promises of a fabulous night with endless celebrations of love pouring from their lips as they excitedly rave about the details of the event.

"And we got it approved by the big man to host it here! Everyone has to be there!" Karina’s shrill customer service voice echoes throughout the padded cubicles and your eardrums. 

A groan slips past your lips before you can stop it. Normally you'd be down for office parties and festivities, you're a fun gal after all. But the idea of attending a Valentine's Day party that your ex-boyfriend is hosting with his "newer and better other half" just doesn't sound as appealing as one might think.

You desperately want to crumple the invitation in your fist and you outwardly seethe as Karina clutches onto Heeseung's chest while she leans into him with forced laughter, him naturally moving with her, chest rumbling before placing a passionate kiss on the top of her head. In a gross quirky fashion, Karina kicks up one of her feet, giggling with each second Heeseung’s lips are on her skin. 

You can’t look away.

Her stupid gorgeous skin that glows when the sun shines through the windows while your skin seems to be greying and wrinkling with each passing day. It’s an over exaggeration, of course, but the jealousy is sinking its claws deeper into your system, stomach lurching as the feeling starts to make you physically unwell.

You hate her stupid skin and her stupid effortless highlights and her stupid perfectly white teeth. The sun should burn her, not make her look like an angel descending upon this earth. Which, she totally acts like on a daily basis, sunshine or not. But you see past her act. 

All you can do is remind yourself that you are a better person than your hostile instincts and negative thoughts want you to be. There’s no point in indulging in them anyways, she’s the office’s golden girl after all.

Taking in a deep breath, you slowly exhale through your nose, lowering the invitation painstakingly slow and delicately placing it to the side of your desk. You will show no weaknesses. They will not get to you as much as they probably would have thrived to see you shrink into yourself with self loathing.

A loud huff of breath behind you breaks you from your trance, and you turn around to see your co-worker Sunoo failing at being the better person; his jaw is clenched so tightly that the muscles in his face are twitching, his invitation is in pieces scattered across his lap and desk, some bits still stuck to his clenched fists in between his fingers. His entire body reads fire-angry and pissed off, but there's something recognizable in his eyes that tells you there's more going on deep within his mind. The way his eyes shake and glisten, it’s like looking in a mirror. Seeing the pain you’re feeling reflected on someone who’s no more than a coworker, much less a stranger, ignites a new emotion in the pit of your stomach, one you can’t quite explain yet. 

Sunoo is one of the handful of coworkers you’ve worked beside for years but have never exchanged more than ten words with. He’s quiet, tends to his work, and keeps to himself – just like you do. Even when he and Karina were together he shied away from the PDA and loud declarations of public love. The few times you cared to spare a glance in their direction, it always seemed that Sunoo was uncomfortable having all eyes on him with a bright red face paired with fidgeting hands. It was enough to make anyone feel bad for the guy.

Glancing around, you make sure the coast is clear, (AKA: all the attention is still on Heeseung and Karina), and you scoot your chair across the short way to Sunoo's desk.

"Hey, Hellboy,” you whisper just loud enough for him to hear, “extinguish your flames will ya?"

Sunoo's jaw relaxes as he looks at you for a moment before turning back to the mess around him. Closing his eyes, he lets out a more tender sigh, carefully picking up each piece one by one before sprinkling them into the garbage.

"Thanks," he says weakly. "I didn't realize I was expressing myself outwardly like that. Nuts isn't it?" He forces a chuckle, shaking his head as he goes back to watching the couple of the year receive their compliments and adoration from the other office sheep.

"Completely nuts." You agree, scooching closer until your chairs touch and you’re sitting side by side, watching the show alongside him.

"She's acting like we weren't even together. Heeseung seems to be doing that to you too. It's crazy! Weren't you guys together for like three years?-"

"-Three years." You say in unison.

Sighing together, you both lean back into your chairs.

"Karina and I,” falter again, his voice quivers, your own chest tightening at his words, “we were together for four." 

The pout in his voice breaks your heart, more so than it already is. And feeling such a strong emotion for someone you barely know surprises you. In all your years with this company you’ve just found it easier to keep to yourself, even more so after your breakup with Heeseung. Why risk getting close to someone again when you’d be forced to be in the same workspace? No one promises to keep a permanent spot in your life, and it was a sentiment you were growing accustomed to. Sunoo was no exception to this rule. You’ve barely interacted. Ever. Nothing more than a simple head nod or raised coffee in acknowledgment has passed between you two. Now, you feel like you need to reach out, rub his arm comfortingly, maybe even offer to take him out to lunch where the two of you can freely be irrationally angry and bitter together. Really, it's just that if you were him, (and you basically are in this situation), you'd want someone to be there for you. Being alone in the midst of a breakup this painful is like soaking a paper cut in lemon juice.

So, stepping out of your comfort zone, you decide to do just what you'd want someone to do for you.

"Let's get lunch together," you blurt out before you’re able to mentally talk yourself out of it.

Albeit slightly confused, Sunoo smiles and kindly accepts your lunch offer. Your body finally relaxes a bit more, relieved with the promise of companionship after so long trying to force isolation on yourself.

"And then he said, 'You're a little too much to handle sometimes.' Who fucking says that!" You yell over the bustle and noise of the restaurant, voice muffled by the decent amount of food still in your mouth.

"He said that? About you?" Sunoo scoffs, throwing his fork down onto his plate and throwing his body back against the seat cushion. "You definitely don't seem like the type to be described as "too much to handle". I'm insulted on your behalf!"

"Thank! You!" You can't help but raise your voice as you throw down your fork as well, the utensil clattering against the now clean plate. "I can't believe Karina gave you such a stupid reason for dumping you. Who just says, 'We were too attached and I need to learn how to be my own person.' then goes around and is immediately in a super clingy relationship? I don't get it. Plus, in my own personal opinion, I wouldn’t have described you guys as too attached. I don’t think I even saw you guys kiss in public. Which makes this thing with Heeseung even more ridiculous!"

Expecting a fiery response, Sunoo surprises you by staying silent. His shoulders drop as he stares into his half-eaten chocolate cheesecake. The intense, angry emotions surging in your own veins quickly simmers down seeing how truly upset and defeated he looks in front of you.

"Hey," you say softly and dip your head down, trying to make eye contact, your hand naturally falling on top of one of his own, "don't worry about them. What she told you was bullshit and does not define who you are as a person. It’s clearly not the real reason she broke up with you. You seem like a great guy and she's going to have to live the rest of her life knowing she let you go." You see a faint smile finally grow on his face, making you smile in return. 

"Thanks, Y/n. I wish I was as strong as you are. I wish I could just be angry and secure with myself. But ever since she left…I don’t know. I feel like a hollow shell, like I’m just going through the motions. Everything feels foreign to me now." He sighs and leans one elbow on the table, resting his head in his hand as he breaks up pieces of his cake, not making any motions to actually eat it.

You think about what to say and how honest you want to be. You've only just really started talking with him and talking about your feelings and insecurities has never been easy for you to do. Which was exactly one of the reasons Heeseung claimed during his breakup speech.

And fuck that guy. You can be emotionally vulnerable anytime you want.

"I'm not as tough as I'm making it seem," you admit slowly, "It honestly hurts so much it feels like I can't breathe sometimes, you know? I really thought I had opened up to him, really thought I had someone who loved me truly for who I was…I thought he saw the real me. A part of me almost feels violated knowing how much he knows about me but he just walks around pretending I’m a stranger." You can't help but chuckle softly to yourself. "Don't give them the power to determine your self-worth, okay? We'll get through this together. You're stuck with me now!"

Sunoo looks up and smiles softly at you. Genuinely, you believe that you'll be able to make it through this. And it doesn't hurt having someone else here to understand what you're going through. And maybe, because of your newfound friendship, you’ll be able to get through it faster.

Finally going back to eating his cake with small, intentional bites, Sunoo thinks thoughtfully for a moment, his head tilted in a curious fashion.

"Do you think-," he starts but pauses, scrunching up his mouth to one side as he ponders over what to say. Sighing and looking down once again, he softly says, "Do you think they cheated on us?"

It's a sentence that instantly gives you chills, freezing you in place for a moment because no, you didn't think that, the thought never occurred to you in the first place. Despite how mad you were at Heeseung, he didn't seem like the type to cheat. Plus, the entire time you were being broken up with, Heeseung was throwing out everything you were doing wrong in the relationship and that alone was hard enough to wrap your brain around. Unless that was some tactic of his to deflect onto you and make you believe you were the bad guy instead of him. Now that the thought is in your head, you can't help but rethink situations you may have looked over, arguments that seemed random and sudden, and accusations that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Like the late nights leading up to the breakup, Heeseung stepping out of the room when he got phone calls- something he never used to do before, not asking you to read his texts out loud anymore, and canceling plans with you due to all the new “extra work responsibilities” that suddenly fell into his lap. These things were out of character- yes. But you didn't think twice about it because it just seemed like something everyone did in the midst of a rough patch in a relationship. And, from the bottom of your heart, you believed anything and everything Heeseung said to you. Because what would he gain from lying and manipulating you?

Or maybe your subconscious just couldn't handle it at the time.

"She acted differently...in the end. I just wasn't sure if you knew something I didn’t."

"No," you shake your head, "the thought honestly never crossed my mind. But now that you mention it, he acted differently in the end too."

For a good, heart-bursting moment, you both sit there in silence. You're not sure what's worse: the blinding anger or the heart-wrenching poignancy.

"This is stupid!" Sunoo finally breaks the silence, his fists firmly planting onto the table as he stands, making you jump in surprise. "We didn't do anything wrong! Why are we the ones who have to be sad and cry into delicious cheesecake? They should be the ones crying into a creamy dessert feeling bad about themselves!"

You can't help but laugh. And once you start, it's hard to stop. The entire situation still doesn't feel real to you, so what else can you do except clutch at your ribs as all the air in your body is used to push out this bubbling laughter? Sunoo laughs with you, sitting back down and scooping up the remaining bites of his cheesecake.

"It really is dumb." You finally manage to choke out the words, the giggles slowly dying out between you two. "I wish there was some way to make them feel what we're feeling right now."

Mouth full of food, Sunoo offers a muddled "Isn’t revenge...ya know...bad?"

Reaching for a napkin, you pause and stare at the lines in the fabric, an idea sparking in your mind. Slowly sliding the napkin over to your new friend who accepts it gladly, patting the material along the outside of his mouth. Feeling safe and reassured in Sunoo’s presence, you decide to continue to be bold today and think out loud.

"What if we went to that Valentine's Day party they're hosting?"

Gasping on instinct, Sunoo accidentally inhales part of his cake, spiraling him into a coughing fit. "You want to what? I thought we agreed in the carride here that it would be a terrible idea to go!"

Smiling devilishly, you wait for Sunoo to notice the mischievous glint in your eyes, for him to see that your idea goes beyond just simply attending.

"What have you got planned?" He asks carefully, but there’s a spark in his eyes.

Quirking up one of your shoulders, you play with your fork, spinning the utensil slowly against the point of your finger. "Let's go...together." It was hard trying to appear so casual, mysterious, and nonchalant when all you wanted to do was shout out your idea and jump around the room like a child.

"I'm honestly such a bad guesser and I'm way too intrigued, but at the same time I'm not stupid enough to fall for the casual 'let's go together' so please tell me what you have brewing in that devilish mind of yours, Y/n, please."

Sunoo's excited impatience and flair for the dramatics will definitely make this idea of yours even more…pleasurable.

Dropping the fork, you look around the restaurant before leaning in, as if some spy could be around waiting to obtain all your secrets. Beckoning Sunoo to do the same, he follows suit, leaning towards you until you can see the tiny flakes of freckles painted across his cheekbones.

A smile blooms across your face slowly, courage finally rooting into your chest. "Okay. So, here's the plan..."

The next few days go by so fast it's been hard to fully enjoy the festivities.

And by festivities, of course you mean the fun going on between you and Sunoo.

The office has become so much more enjoyable now that Sunoo is in your life. Every day you come into work wearing one of his sports jackets, graciously draping it on the back of your chair for display after he politely pulls out your seat for you. And every day, after pushing in your chair, Sunoo leaves you a quick, yet passionate kiss on the top of your head, to which you always end up looking up at him with pure joy. 

It didn't take long for you two to become the talk of the office. 

Like a wave of wildfire, everyone began wondering just when you and Sunoo got together, if it was serious, a playful situation, just how far things have gone. You never paid much attention to office gossip before, but you never would have dreamed it was as juicy as this. Being in the spotlight was never your thing, but this was completely different. It felt different at least.This was all under your control for once, and it’s something you wouldn’t mind getting used to. 

Walking around the office with a new wave of confidence feels empowering in a way you haven’t experienced before. Seeing Heeseung's jaw drop to the floor when he sees you, clearly not registering that it was you at first, tastes even more delicious.

It's true. Along with the new relationship, you switched up your wardrobe as well. Oh, and getting a new haircut after a million years of avoiding the salon definitely gave you that extra umph that you needed. And, let’s face it, moving on after being mercilessly dumped isn’t official until you do something with your hair.

"You look..." Sunoo whistles as he not so discreetly eyes you up and down, biting his bottom lip as he does so. "Amazing." Very quickly you see some heads pop out from their cubicles out of your peripheral vision. It makes your smile all the more genuine.

Acting like you think the two of you are all alone in the office lobby, you giggle and lean into Sunoo. "Thank you for buying this outfit for me. It fits me in all the right places." You wink and pull at his tie slightly, turning around and walking away with it slipping through your fingers.

All of the heads quickly return to their computer screens, pretending to not have heard or seen a single thing.

It’s almost too easy.

Heeseung's cubicle is near the front of the lobby with yours and Sunoos around the middle of the floorplan. Without a doubt, Heeseung's head had to have been one of the ones who was watching you just now. 

Gliding across the floor with Sunoo quickly following behind you, your heels click delightfully against the tile floor. In a split minute decision, instead of trying to discreetly glance into Heeseung's cubicle like you initially wanted to, you decide to turn back towards Sunoo and reach for his hand, giggling all along the way as you focus on him and only him. 

Sunoo grasps your hand tightly in his, his free hand pocketed in his tightly fit slacks. You weren't the only one with the wardrobe upgrade. If you're being completely honest, he won the makeover competition. Your new partner in crime has left behind his cute blonde locks and now sports chic raven black hair, his bangs framing his face in a way that makes his deep amber brown eyes stand out more so than ever before. And to think he used to cover those sweet irises with hazel contacts…you really hope he’s thrown them out, honestly. Sunoo looks like a completely different person now, and yet, he seems more like himself than ever before. His smile is soft yet confident, his gaze fond as he watches you pull him to his cubicle.

It baffles you that this is the same Sunoo who's been sitting behind you for all these years. 

Throwing out the cheap, stiff, button up collared shirts, Sunoo now adorns some fancy name brand sweaters, sporks jackets, and silk button-ups: all items you thrifted with him during your weekend spent scheming together. He looks like a million bucks and ever since the makeover he's been getting attention from strangers in every place he’s walked into, rightfully so. You’ve also gotten your fair share of head turns and whistles from folks on the street and each one only adds more fire to your steps.

It's been a confidence boost for the both of you, to say the least.

Once you're near your own desks, Sunoo holds onto your fingers instead of letting you go, pulling you quickly back into him so fast that your hand automatically flutters against the swell of his chest while he holds you tightly.

"I'll miss you," he mutters softly for only you to hear, bringing up your hand and kissing your knuckles before guiding you to your chair to do his usual routine. Chills dance across your skin as your mind panics for a moment, briefly forgetting that this is all for show.

None of it is real.

"I'll miss you more," you recover with a purr. Then, for good measure, ditching the nervousness echoing in the back of your mind, you let out a louder Shhh! noise followed by an array of giggles, pretending that Sunoo has just whispered something not very office appropriate into your ear, resulting in immediate whispers surrounding your not so private cubicle space. Exactly what you wanted. You let your finger linger down Sunoo’s chest, stopping just above his belt line. You swivel your chair around to face your screen, logging on without giving him a second glance. Unbeknownst to you, Sunoo lingers in the middle of the hallway staring after you with a mixed, unreadable expression.

This was going all too smoothly.

Throughout the days you and Sunoo manage to find ample time to grossly flirt with one another around the office. One of your favorite hobbies now was deciding where exactly you wanted to meet up and get a little frisky.

Your favorite spot by far is easily the copy room, however cliche it may be. Having Sunoo pressed up against your body as his lips roam your neck, your back either against the copy machine itself or the counter just adjacent to it, it was all too much fun.

Like today, for instance, things might have gotten a little too out of hand.

Sunoo's hands roam your body from your hips all the way up to your shoulders as he murmurs things too quietly for you to even understand. Well, let’s be honest, it’s definitely not necessarily because they were too quiet, but because you were so distracted by just how electrifying his touch feels against your skin. It was never meant to be this serious. A touch here, a kiss there, outward flirting and such. But now you're starting to think it's becoming more of a game between the two of you instead of your typical fake dating office romance you set up to make your ex's jealous. 

Technically, you didn't need to start this game so early before the party: it's only a week away now. You were way too eager to put your plan into action, and that meant sacrificing the workplace and those that worked around you, subjecting them all to your very sickening over the top displays of affection.

And perhaps a smidge of your own sanity has also been sacrificed within the mix but you’re not ready to admit that just yet.

You don't even remember why you were in the copy room to begin with. Usually, you try to plan it so either Heeseung or Karina walks in. Lately, it's been everyone but.

Your breath becomes heavier as Sunoo's tongue swipes up along the backside of your ear, a little spot he quickly finds brings out some not so safe for work sounds from you.

Wanting so desperately to enjoy the attention your body is getting, you can't help but fight against the bliss. You're losing sight of the plan ahead. And you can't help but notice just how naturally you're starting to respond to Sunoo's antics.

"Sunoo!" You gasp, glancing at the clock above his head, not realizing just how hot and heavy it was getting between you two. "I think we need to cool it a little bit. We've been in here for fifteen minutes now and no one has even come close to this room."

He chuckles under his breath against your neck, a slow, deep raspy sound that hums along your skin in a way that makes you shudder. "Sorry. Seems I got carried away."

Without hesitation, he backs away from you and you can't deny that your first thought is how much you want him back, to continue to feel his touch against your skin. The way he bites his bottom lip while staring at your own slightly smudged lipstick stained ones has your heart fluttering inside your chest. A whirlwind of confused thoughts tornado rampantly inside your mind as you watch him clear his throat, the raspy voice filled with depth and lust now gone, his casual and naturally cheery voice returning.

"I'm thinking we came on too strong. Now everyone is afraid of being around us." Sunoo ponders outwardly, a finger slowly tapping against his chin as he glances through the small window on the door. How the hell is he able to be so sexy and passionate one minute and easily go back to acting like nothing happened?

Gulping, you clutch your arms to your chest, suddenly feeling cold without Sunoo next to you. “What do we do now?”

“I guess we can get back to work, there’s plenty of time for more shenanigans later.” He winks and walks out of the room, leaving you wondering just when did he become so carefree and confident meanwhile you’ve become meek and insecure.

A spur of the moment shopping spree sprung upon you and Sunoo the night before the Valentine's Day party. After all the scheming and planning, the one thing you forgot to plan for was what you would be wearing for the event; thus blossoming said scheming and planning. Even when you both upgraded your wardrobes before, it was all simple business casual outfits for the office, not night out, attention grabbing attire. 

Sunoo calls you in a panic, words blurring together through the phone as you try to make out what he's trying to say. Eventually, you're able to put two and two together.

"Holy shit we forgot our party outfits!" You exclaim dumbfoundedly.

So, that's how you got here – sprinting down isles with your hands out batting against the edges of the clothes with a large excited grin on your face. Some of the fabrics feel soft against your fingertips as the wind blows through your hair. As you look over to Sunoo, you can't help but to smile more, not even noticing the gross feeling of old velvet pants sticking against the groove of your fingertips. Any other day, your body would have recoiled in disgust. But somehow, staring into Sunoo's earthy brown eyes, everything has become manageable. 

As the night continues and fashion show after fashion show occurs, you start to think about how you look at and feel around Sunoo. He's doing everything he can to stay positive in this miserable situation you've both been thrown into, and yet, you find yourself comforted in his presence. While comforting is the best word to describe it, it's also starting to become…confusing. Why does your stomach flip when you catch him looking at you? Why has he become the first person you think of when you wake up and the last thing on your mind before you fall asleep? Is it possible he could be thinking the same about you? It's definitely not an appropriate time for you to jump back into a relationship. Come to think of it, you barely know much about the guy other than what you two share in relationship baggage. 

The rest of the night you seem to move in slow motion, caught up in your thoughts and not really feeling present in the moment anymore. You catch Sunoo sneaking glances at you and it seems he's trying extra hard to be funny with all the ridiculous outfits he's put together, only feeling satisfied and moving on after getting a genuine smile on your face or hearing you chuckle softly.

"How about this!" Sunoo jumps out of the dressing room with arms wide open, wearing a bright green feathered boa hanging loosely off his shoulders, red and yellow vertical striped pants, and a shirt that definitely could have belonged to a middle-aged man who loved to go fishing every weekend. All you can really muster is a soft stare, your eyes not quite focusing on the ridiculous clown outfit in front of you. There's a certain disconnection you feel with yourself even though it feels like you should be happy, almost like a large rain cloud is augmenting over your head.

"You didn't even try to smile this time," Sunoo’s entire demeanor softens instantly, the performance mask he was trying to put on for you slipping away. He walks towards the loveseat you're sitting on and joins you, his shoulder lightly bumping against yours, "what's on your mind?"

Not exactly ready to admit your confused feelings about him, if there are even feelings there at all, you decide to talk about the only other thing that’s been disturbing your thoughts: Heeseung.

You let out a quiet sigh, gaze dropping to your hands that are resting in your lap, “I just wish it were easier, you know? Moving on…”

Sunoo huffs and juts out his bottom lip sympathetically, quickly coming to your rescue by wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You let him console you, lowering your head onto his chest as he rubs comforting circles on the side of your arm, the smell of his cologne tickling your nose in a pleasant way.

“It’s okay. I’ve been having a hard time getting over Karina too. It seems that no matter how hard I try, my mind always drifts back to her. I still don’t really understand how she could just jump into a relationship with Heeseung and be in love so quickly. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Do you think they could be faking too? Like us?” The words come tumbling past your lips before you can properly process them, your stomach turning and twisting into all sorts of complicated knots. Why would you and Sunoo get dumped only for them to rub it in your face on purpose? None of it really makes sense.

“I’m not sure,” Sunoo sighs, still rubbing his hand up and down your arm, “I honestly wouldn’t put it past Karina to do it. There were more than a handful of times when we’d be around a bunch of people and she’d be all over me, couldn’t leave my side, doting and praising me more than I knew how to handle. Then, when we’d get home, she’d want her space and do her own thing, pushing me away even at the smallest contact. It was super weird and messed with my head for a bit,” Sunoo sighs and rests his head on top of yours, pulling you closer, “I think she just needs everyone to see how loved she is. I don’t know. She has her own insecurities she still needs to deal with I guess.”

Nodding your head into Sunoo’s chest, you also reflect on the way Heeseung treated you when you were in front of other people versus how he treated you at home. And you can’t really think of an obvious difference. PDA was never within his comfort zone, but he’d still hold your hand and kiss you in front of people. He was an amazing boyfriend to you up until the moments near the end when he slowly started withdrawing. Seeing him be so over the top with someone new, especially in front of coworkers, has definitely been a culture shock, but you just wrote it off as people acting differently depending on who they’re with. Which is totally normal, right?

“Sometimes it’s nice to think that they want to see us upset, doesn’t it?” Sunoo smiles and pats your head teasingly, standing up and offering a hand out to you. “Kinda shows us that we mean a whole lot more to them than they’re willing to admit. C’mon. Let’s find you a killer outfit and show Heeseung exactly what he’s missing.”

“Sunoo. Has anyone ever told you that you could have a career in fashion?”

You keep staring at yourself in the mirror, looking at every angle possible of the attire you have on. Sunoo picked out everything himself, more than proving that his taste is far beyond more exquisite than all of your project runway knowledge and late night TikTok haul compilations combined. Right away in the thrift store, he commanded that blue is the only color he wants to see you in, none of that typical pink or red Valentine’s Day bullshit. “We need to stand out in all the best and worst of ways. Plus, blue is one thousand percent your color.” He had said to you, reassuring you along the way that he’ll find something for you both to match in.

And he was absolutely right. Blue is most definitely your color. The way it brings out the natural shine in your hair and even that small spark in your eyes, you’ve never been so confident with just a shade before.

The style of the dress itself is something you would expect to see in an over chic event after party with just enough elegance to make it eye-catching and eye-ogling worthy; pools of tool and fabric cascade down your legs, a long slit going up until your mid-thigh. The top half of the dress is strapless and slightly exposing your cleavage a little too well, the swell of your breasts swaying with every breath you take, yet still snugly in place. You protested heavily on the dress in the store, it needed more than a little TLC with some rips and tears in the skirt and some stains on the front. But Sunoo had insisted and told you he had a plan in mind, all you had to do was trust him.

In less than two hours after leaving the store, Sunoo had successfully stitched and sewed his way to a beautiful masterpiece. You couldn’t even tell this was the same dress he had picked out in the thrift store.

Fondly, he smiles at you as he looks at what he’s created, a hint of blush dusting over his cheeks as he softly admits that, while he was growing up, his mother and older sister would make their own clothes to save some money. Naturally, Sunoo picked up on what they had learned and actively participated alongside them.

“One year, for my mother’s birthday, my sister and I both worked on this really grand dress that matched the one on her childhood doll. It took us nearly three months to make. I had never seen my mom ugly cry before until that moment. I remember her hugging my sister and I so tightly I almost passed out!” He chuckles lightly, fingers ghosting along the fabric of your dress as he thinks back on the memory, but his smile slips, just for a moment. “I used to be made fun of for this stuff, but nothing feels as good as seeing someone’s face light up when they put on something you’ve made. It’s the same face you have on right now actually.” He stands up from his kneeling position and taps the underside of your chin lightly with his thumb. Goosebumps ripple across your skin and you can’t help but turn your gaze away from him, afraid of what your eyes might give away.

Finally regaining your composure, you turn and smile back at him, feeling an overwhelming sense of comfort between the two of you. The warmth from his words and the soft smile on his face is something you’re not quite used to; your connection seems to run deeper than you were ultimately expecting it to be. And you like the feeling of it.

“I’ll kick anyone’s ass if they make fun of you,” you say boldly, hands on your hips for emphasis.

Sunoo throws a pillow at your back, the both of you laughing like old high school best friends.

Pacing back and forth in your living room, you can’t help but consider that it’s a strong possibility you might have been stood up. Sunoo said he would be at your apartment a good hour or two before the party started at 7pm so you could help each other get ready, hyped, and mentally prepared for the night ahead. It’s currently 6:48pm.

Right now you are definitely not ready. You are definitely not hyped.

Glancing at the clock on your phone only makes you more anxious as you fight the urge to call him for the fourteenth time. The party has started by now and tears threaten to spill from your eyes. It’s not like you wanted to go to the dumb party anyways. Making an appearance was supposed to be a fun way to get under Heeseung’s skin, prove to him that you didn’t lose the breakup, that you weren’t a depressed mess who couldn’t show her face on the day of love.

This didn’t seem in character for Sunoo. Unless, you dreadfully think, you said something that offended him. You stumble towards your couch, sitting down promptly and burying your face in your hands. Maybe he caught a whiff of your little crush on him. Or maybe he just couldn’t bear to see Karina on such a romantic holiday night clinging to her new fling. Your thoughts are spiraling out of control, vision blurring as the tears finally start to spill. You take off your heels in a defeated huff, tempting the idea of shucking them into the neighbor's shrubs to get them completely out of your presence.

All you can muster is another defeated glance at your window, heels still in one hand, and laugh to yourself when all you can see is the flickering street lights momentarily illuminating a very drab and empty street. This is what you get, huh? You wanted revenge and karma did not feel like taking its time in giving you exactly what you deserve.

Thoughts of Heeseung and Karina slow dancing under paper hearts spinning on a string from the ceiling leaves you feeling emptier than ever before.

As a large teardrop drips down your cheek, bright headlights shine into your window. Your front door is slightly ajar; your hopeless attempts at letting Sunoo know he was welcome to let himself in. All it did, though, was let in an icy draft, the cold air clawing at your skin.

Sunoo steps out of his car with a bright smile that quickly falters as soon as he sees you through the window, head hanging low and slowly brushing the back of your hand under your eyes.

“Y/n?” Sunoo pushes the front door open and rushes over to you. He’s wearing his blue suit, the one he picked out to match yours, and he looks so damn good it makes you want to cry even more. His hair is styled so that part of his forehead is showing and his face is glowing, almost dewy from his pristine skin care routine. You try to meet his gaze confidently, desperate to push your feelings to the side. But, as soon as you see the way his eyes look at you with concern, emotions overtake you and the tears flow more consistently before you’re able to even attempt to swallow them down.

“Are you okay? Oh, Y/n what’s wrong? What happened?” Sunoo sits next to you and pulls your head to his chest, wrapping one arm around the back of your shoulders while the other one wraps around the front of your body. You clutch your hands to your face, embarrassed beyond belief that you’re sobbing on Valentine’s Day in front of your fake date of the night.

You think about mentioning Heeseung and Karina, or the fact that you really don’t want to go to this party anymore. Instead, what softly comes out is, “I thought you weren’t going to show up…”

Pushing you back slowly so he can see your face, Sunoo takes your hands gently in his own, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles while he looks into your tear filled eyes. “I would never leave you behind.”

It feels like your heart plummets down a ten-story building and all you want to do is melt into him. 

Continuing before you have the chance to get ahead of yourself and do something you regret, Sunoo unknowingly interrupts your thoughts, “Did my texts not go through? I said we got the time mixed up. The party starts at eight, not seven. I also stopped by to get you this-” He looks around at the ground beside him for a moment, then motions for you to hold on while he trots back to his car.

“Close your eyes!” He yells while laughing his way back through the doorway. You wipe your eyes one last time before placing your hands over them. 

You hear his footsteps on the carpet as he gets closer. It’s probably some flowers, a corsage even, something basic and traditional to the holiday that everyone’s fake date thinks of getting them before they attempt to make their ex’s jealous. 

There’s movement on the top of your head and a tickling feeling against your neck that makes you flinch, nearly opening your eyes before being stopped by Sunoo. “It’s just me, hold on.” He places something on your head, adjusting it and fixing your hair.

“Perfect!” He steps back. “Go ahead. Open your eyes.”

Slowly, you remove your hands from your face and look around. Sunoo is standing in front of you holding a small compact mirror. Leaning forward, you look until you can see your reflection and the small, shiny pendant nestled around your neck.

“I saw it on my way over here in some small shop window. I just had to get it for you. It really brings your whole outfit together! – And your eyes.” He whispers the last part. Sunoo’s smile is big and warm, rendering you speechless. But that doesn’t stop you from opening your mouth to at least make an attempt to express your gratitude .

“No need to thank me!” Sunoo puts the compact mirror in his pants pocket, reaching for your hand to pull you up from the couch. “Seeing everyone’s reaction to how amazing you look is all the thanks I need.”

A couple minutes are spent assisting you with getting your makeup back in place and adjusting your hair; Sunoo works tentatively with a type of care and attention to detail you’ve never seen from a man before. He murmurs a flourish of praises and compliments, all ones that have you feeling giddy and shy. 

Once everything is in order, he walks you to the passenger side of his car and opens the door for you, assisting with your dress to make sure not a single string of fabric gets caught.

“Thank you, Sunoo,” you whisper just before he closes the door. There’s a shine behind his eyes as he nods his head softly, his smile still unwavering.

A nice intense pep talk goes down in Sunoo’s car before you’re both able to walk up to the office hand in hand. You had thought you would be a shaking mess of nerves, but instead, it’s Sunoo’s hand that clutches yours tightly, a slight murmur disrupting his cool demeanor.

All of the office desks have been pushed against one wall with cupid cutouts and (as you predicted earlier) paper hearts hanging from the ceiling. A red light is cast throughout the room giving it a nice sultry feel as light music plays over the speakers. You never realized just how big the office space actually was until seeing everything cleared out the way it is now. Easily seventy or so people could fit in here for a party. Instead, there’s only about thirty of you.

Everything looked so magical, and yet, it feels oddly…prom-like.

You and Sunoo are fashionably late (as planned in the pep talk), so as soon as the front door opens with a loud sha-shunk sound, all eyes are on you two.

“Game on.” You smirk, feeling as ready as ever. Utilizing your nerves as a strength instead of weakness, you hold your head high, keeping your gaze soft while you look at Sunoo.

“Sunoo! Y/n!” Karina’s usual peppy voice wavers over the music as her wide eyes scans your bodies. “You’re here!” There’s a hint of a question in her tone, her eyes narrowing now.

The crowd parts slightly, leaving a space so Heeseung and Karina can greet you at the front door.

“Oh, we just couldn’t miss the party of the century!” You laugh, clinging to Sunoo’s upper arm.

“The chance to show off this beautiful lady? Wouldn’t pass that up for anything!” Sunoo is saying this in response to Karina, but his eyes are only on you. He gives you a wink for good measure, leaning in slightly until the tips of your noses touch. It’s easy to smile at his antics, forgetting for a moment that this is supposed to be pretend.

“Yeah, like anyone would describe Y/n as a party person,” Heeseung quips with a scoff. Your eyebrows furrow, glancing over to your ex for the first time. 

You can’t deny how great he looks in his pastel pink suit that perfectly matches Karina’s revealing party dress. It accents every curve of his muscles in his arms, his suit jacket draping on his wide shoulders with ease and flare. Heeseung’s face is flushed with what has to be the effects of alcohol, his cheeks and nose lightly dusted with pink. You can’t help but remember the moments you would drink together, giggling as you leaned into each other’s bodies. Whispered promises would pass between the two of you between karaoke songs and midnight snacks; all small yet meaningful memories you thought you had successfully buried a while ago.

This might be harder than you were expecting.

“You never really were the type of person to be able to think on their feet, huh, Heeseung?” You chuckle knowing that he really was trying to hurt your feelings in front of everyone. Heeseung glowers at you, his lips a fine, thin line.

Karina looks like she wants to say something, but instead grabs Heeseung’s elbow and turns him around, heading back to the middle of the dance floor.

Without looking, you and Sunoo give each other a satisfactory low-five.

“So, snacks? Drinks? Or dance floor?” Sunoo asks.

“Oh, definitely snacks. I see a bowl of chips calling my name!” You not so graciously speed walk over to said bowl and pick it up, cradling it the same way one would a newborn baby. Sunoo picks up a large pink cupcake and runs his finger around the frosting, sucking on the digit slowly as he observes the crowd before him. (somewhere in another universe Sunghoon starts shaking)

Turning to crowdwatch with him, you recoil at the sight before you: Karina is bent forward slightly, wiggling her ass against Heeseung’s crotch. The co-workers around them cheer, raising their glasses as they continue to jump to the music. Heeseung doesn’t even look slightly embarrassed, a smug smile plastered on his face while he dances along.

“You know, if I would have even dropped low like that to pick up a can of soup or something that fell on the floor, he’d hide his face in shame,” you say with a mouthful of chips.

Sunoo scoffs, shoving the remainder of the cupcake into his mouth. “Ehdgeeut.”

“I bet we could out dance them,” you say more confidently than you actually feel. Without waiting for Sunoo’s response, you grab his sticky cupcake hand and drag him to the dance floor.

Relaxing as much as you can, you try to empty your mind of all fears and doubts and mimic what you’ve seen in movies and music videos, using Sunoo more as a prop than an actual dance partner when you grab his shoulders and move your hands down his body.

At first, no one notices you two. But as more co-workers break to grab refreshments, they come back and form a crowd around you two instead of mindlessly migrating back to Heeseung and Karina.

And eventually, that left the pair without an audience to flaunt in front of.

Sunoo is getting more and more into the movements, confidence and ease dripping throughout his aura. It’s beautiful watching him smile and enjoy himself, not even noticing the people around him. It definitely helps you feel more comfortable in the spotlight as well. Pulling you closer, Sunoo lifts up one of your legs and hooks it at his hip, one of his hands roaming up your thigh sensually slow. Your heart races as his face gets closer to your own, both your foreheads connecting and it feels like you’re breathing the same air with the way the warmth of his breath ghosts over your lips.

At this point, you know Heeseung and Karina are watching you. The heat of their gaze shooting like daggers at your back is hard to ignore.

The song ends right as Sunoo pulls you closer and kisses you. It isn’t like any of the fake, playful kisses you’ve exchanged in the office previously. This one is laced with something sweet and earnest, a want you can’t even begin to explain. Everything fades away in the background – the music, the crowd, Heeseung. Melting into Sunoo’s kiss is all your body wants to focus on.

And you don’t want to stop kissing him. You don’t want this feeling to end.

“Get a room!” Someone yells from the back, the crowd erupting into laughter as some shield their eyes away from you.

“Maybe we will,” Sunoo huffs, his eyes darkened by his dilated pupils. It’s a look you haven’t seen from him before, but you don’t have time to process it. Hastily grabbing your hand, you’re both running out of the room and into one of the office hallways.

And as you run, you catch a glimpse of Heeseung’s wide, regretful eyes, his shoulders sagging into his suit jacket.

Quite the victory if you’ve ever seen one.

Giggles and shuffling feet is all you can hear throughout the hallway, you and Sunoo carelessly stumbling against each other while you try to walk, stopping here and there to aggressively makeout. The cool air is barely noticeable against the warm touches from Sunoo's hands around your body. Each time his skin presses against yours it leaves a ripple of warmth throughout your body, so much so that it feels like you'll never be cold again. Something you wouldn’t mind giving up if it meant being able to stay like this forever. Is this what it feels like to let someone back in again? Or are you just excited by the attention? Could this really go beyond your unwritten pact?

Your hands grasp the edges of his suit firmly as you momentarily take control, pushing him carefully against the wall so you can kiss him again. Sunoo smiles into the kiss, chuckling deep from his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist. His lips are soft and familiar now and it's become a little too easy to get lost in them. 

At times like this, you forget this is supposed to be pretend. 

Pushing those thoughts away, you continue to dive in. 

These kisses start to feel different than the ones from before. Originally, they were nothing more than quick pecks, not even two seconds long at their most intense. Now, they're slow, both of your lips molding together in slow, heated motion, giving you plenty of time to let your hands roam with minds of their own. Your bodies start to connect like puzzle pieces, like the way your hip naturally leans into his or the way your chest rises up flush against his own. Every time Sunoo's tongue barely sneaks past the edges of his mouth sends a warm chill that blooms deep in your chest, rippling until you feel it in the tips of your fingers. You almost want to sigh in relief the way one would sigh when sinking into a nice warm bath after a long day. 

Heeseung never kissed you like this. 

Slow and steady turns into fast and desperate. All of a sudden what you're getting is just not enough. And it seems you’re not the only one feeling this way. Sunoo pulls at the fabric of your dress, guiding you away from the wall so he can lead you into one of the conference rooms, the very conference room Heeseung and Karina will be coming up to in order to exchange Valentine's Day gifts according to what their flyers said at least. 

You can't help but wonder if this was done on purpose, or just a cruel coincidence.

Once you're past the threshold, Sunoo's in control. He breaks apart the kiss and turns you around, lightly pushing the small of your back until standing next to the conference table. His hands find your hips again, pushing you further until you’re leaning against the table now. His hands continue moving up and down your body for a moment, hesitating before boldly moving up to your breasts and squeezing lightly. 

"Is this okay?" He murmurs, hiding his face with a kiss on your neck, just under your ear as he massages your chest.

It felt more than okay. Your mind is turning into white static with the built-up attention. Heeseung never asked you if this was okay, always just acting first, thinking later. Hearing the nervous yet caring words from Sunoo ignites a fire inside you that you weren't away was waiting to be lit.

Composure slipping, you fight back a moan that forms in your throat when he squeezes your chest a little more aggressively than before. "Mhmm yeah, this is okay." Chuckling, you let your eyes flutter shut, somehow making the experience even more enjoyable this way.

Wasting no time, Sunoo shucks off his suit jacket in one clean motion, tossing it aside carelessly and diving back into your lips.

“Nuh-uh,” you moan against his lips, pulling at his button up shirt, “off.”

Groaning with a pouted smile, Sunoo breaks away and slowly starts to unbutton his shirt.

“Are you punishing me now?” You laugh, already missing the feeling of him on your skin.

“I can go slower than this,” he plays, the tip of his tongue poking past the side of his lips. His fingers start to move slower as he glares at you through his bangs. It’s a devilishly hot look, one that makes you gulp, suddenly feeling a bit like a prey being observed by a predator.

Normally you wouldn’t mind a little strip tease or the build of anticipation. But right now, you’re anxious to get him back on you. The longer he stands there in front of you, the more your mind starts to overthink, and you want nothing more than to not think for once and just do.

Sunoo is only halfway down his shirt, gaze still flirting and testing. The more loose his shirt becomes, the more enticing it is to just grab a fistful of it and pull him closer.

And so you do.

You take his now loose tie into your fist and pull him close, his face now inches from yours. Sunoo’s breathing is heavy, his chest moving up and down almost as quick as your heart is beating.

You move in like you’re about to kiss him, but stop short just as your lips barely brush against his.

“I don’t like playing games,” you whisper, showing your teeth as you smile.

“Funny,” Sunoo murmurs back, grabbing onto your hips and flipping you around until your ass is flushed against his crotch, his tie still laced between your fingers, “Didn’t seem that way when you asked me to play along with your little scheme.”

All you can manage is a soft sigh, allowing yourself to relax against his body and letting his tie slip past your fingers, grinding your hips against his hardening length.

This is all a game, you remind yourself. Or, at least, it started out as one.

Sunoo unzips the back of your dress, leaving a trail of kisses against your skin along the way. If there is a world record for the most amount of times a person has shuddered with chills in the span of ten seconds, well, you would have beaten that record by a mile.

And although you enjoy each kiss and each touch, it’s all going far too slow.

Using what goods you have in the back, you push out with enough force to back Sunoo up a step. It was just enough for you to be able to spin around to face him and drop your dress to your feet.

“Wow,” Sunoo gasps, “you are absolutely beautiful.” His eyes roam over your body without hesitation, not even remotely shy when they land on your chest, appreciating the very sexy lace bra you bought just for today.

“Thanks,” you raise an eyebrow confidently, a playful smirk adorning your lips, “I showed you mine, now show me yours.”

Without question, Sunoo moves to undo his belt, still moving rather slowly as he unbuttons his pants.

Your eyes follow his hands as they move back up his legs. Eyeing his frontal area, you’re surprised to see that he isn’t hard yet like you thought he was, his boxers completely smooth and tentless.

You try not to show your disappointment, but Sunoo notices right away.

Bashfully, he grips the back of his neck with one hand, looking down and apologizing. “I’m just kind of nervous is all.”

“No, no! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! I was just a little surprised! If you’re not ready we don’t have to do anything.” It suddenly feels very cold in this room, the weight of something unspoken hanging eerily around you.

Sunoo smiles again, this time more innocently than before, “I want to. Trust me.”

Closing the distance between you two, you kiss him on the lips slowly, an invitation for him to take the lead.

It doesn’t take him nearly as long as you had anticipated.

Sunoo’s mouth moves feverishly against yours, that fire instantly igniting back between your two bodies. His hand grips the side of your neck gently, his thumb resting just behind your jawline. It isn’t until your fingernails trail the edge of his spine that his grip hardens slightly, taking your breath away.

Sunoo’s free hand moves to your back to unclasp your bra, doing so in an impressive one try. His hand is instantly on one of your breasts, massaging them roughly. It’s a sharp contrast to how he was touching you earlier, not like you really mind.

That is all the touch you need before you’re ready for him. Your arousal is impossible to ignore at this point, feeling the way your panties stick uncomfortably to your skin. No more buildup is needed.

Your thumb slips past the hem of his boxers, pulling them down and away from his skin. Sunoo steps out of them now completely naked before you. As you continue to kiss, you can’t help but chance a peek at what he has lying below.

And what he has does not disappoint.

“Wow!” You gasp, “Karina left you for Heeseung? No wonder she seems more high strung than usual.”

Laughing in surprise, Sunoo stops his ministrations and rests his head on your shoulder in embarrassment. His erection pokes at your thigh teasingly, enough to make you feel dizzy all over again.

“And then you,” he returns softly, “Karina may be pretty, but she’s also flatter than a piece of cardboard. You?” He whistles and manages to bring his head back up, eyeing you up and down while biting his bottom lip.

“He’s stupid,” Sunoo concludes.

“And she’s an idiot.” You smile.

“Enough about them,” Sunoo takes both of his hands and grasps your panties right below your navel. With one swift motion, he rips the fabric in two and is moving you back to the table, back to the original position you were in, “this is about us.”

There’s no time to appreciate just how incredibly sexy that was of him. In his hand, Sunoo shows a condom he must have pulled out of his pocket earlier. You honestly don’t remember seeing him do it, but you nod your head quickly up and down. Taking it between his teeth, Sunoo rips the plastic and promptly places the condom on the tip of his cock, unrolling it carefully. Your thighs tingle with anticipation, your body yearning to be filled by him.

Spreading your legs out so that your feet rest on the tops of the neighboring chairs, you nod your head once more for Sunoo. He awkwardly brushes his tip against your clit, making you wince at the sudden contact. Apologizing under his breath, Sunoo continues to gather your slick, coating the condom before lining himself up to your hole.

Slowly, he inches the tip of his cock inside.

Sunoo’s arms are placed on either side of your hips and you use his stance to grip his biceps, holding on for dear life as you try to mentally prepare for the massiveness that’s entering your body.

Sunoo guides his cock up and down your folds just once before diving right in.

The stretch is absolutely delicious, immediately your eyes roll back with bliss. He’s only able to get inside of you a quarter of the way before he slides back out, repeating the process until he’s able to inch further and further, deeper and deeper. For a moment it seemed like he wouldn’t be able to bottom out in you. But if you’ve learned anything from this time you’ve spent with Sunoo, it’s that this man is determined.

One final thrust and it feels like he’s pushing straight through your G-spot.

You’re out of breath as you cling to him more aggressively, not able to even comprehend what it would feel like for him to pound into you with everything he’s got if this is how it feels to just have him slowly push into you.

Sunoo searches for your mouth, planting a long, deep kiss on your lips as he slowly starts to rock his hips back and forth. There’s a tense hunger from his lips that you try to match, but the pleasure you’re feeling down below is distracting your every thought.

After a few moments pass, the strong build-up you initially felt seems to simmer out. 

Despite the intense need for one another, there's something between you and Sunoo that's different from what you had with Heeseung, something missing: spark.

The thought hits you. Hard. So much so that it stuns you into a motionless blob. In retrospect, it isn't even that big of a revelation, but it's enough to put some ease on your mind and brings you some much needed clarity. Despite how much you wanted this, despite how good it feels, it also unintentionally feels…weird.

"Y/n. Are you okay?" Tentatively, Sunoo stops for a moment and makes sure to meet your eyes.

Opening your mouth to respond, instead of words an eruption of laughter takes over you growing gradually until your entire body shakes with it. You clasp your hands over your mouth to try to contain it, but it only seems to worsen the giggles.

"I'm so sorry, Sunoo," you finally manage, "I just realized— I don't think…” you take a deep breath, ignoring the screaming voice in your head telling you to shut up, “I don’t think I like you in this way."

There's a moment where Sunoo and you both look down at where your body's currently connected and intertwined and for a second you're afraid that you've hurt his feelings or possibly even offended him.

He inhales slowly, releasing the air quickly soon after with an 'ahhh' sound. "Oh thank god! I wasn't sure if it was just me, but I started to realize the same thing a few minutes ago."

Laughter bubbles from your throat naturally, your lips vibrating as you try to hold it in. But, it’s no use. Sunoo sees you laughing and he can’t help but do the same.

“We should probably get out of here before we make an even bigger fool of ourselves. We can get Chinese? Hang out at my place and talk and watch a movie? I feel like we should talk.”

You’re about to verbally agree when a blinding light interrupts your thoughts.

“Oh my god!” A squeaky voice trills by the doorway, echoing throughout the room. 

You and Sunoo freeze in place; he hasn’t even had the chance to remove his cock from your cunt.

The intense drowning feeling consumes you as your vision finally comes to focus. At the doorway are Heeseung and Karina.

“Y/N?” Heeseung’s voice cracks in disbelief at the sight in front of him, eyes wide with shock.

Panic sets in. How stupid was this idea? Who thought you should go to a work party, strip naked, and start having sex with one of your coworkers on the table in one of the conference rooms just to get back at your ex boyfriend?

If it were just Heeseung and Karina, your embarrassment would still be there, but at a much more containable and manageable amount. 

The entire office staff on the other hand...you were not prepared for that.

“Everyone leave!” Heeseung yells, turning his back to you and ushering the other coworkers away. As he’s doing so, Sunoo slips out of you, running over to where your clothes were discarded and throwing them at you with haste as he rushes to dress the lower half of himself.

Your arms feel numb as you pull your dress over your head, not even bothering with your bra or ripped panties.

Heeseung returns and closes the door. Karina is covering her eyes, her back turned to you and Sunoo slightly as she’s muttering something to herself. Her perfect black hair cascades into a curtain to shield her eyes from your nakedness.

“This is going to sound so cliche,” Sunoo starts after too many seconds of awkward silence pass between the four of you, “but this is not what it looks like.”

Karina makes an abundance of gibberish sounds with an aghast look on her face before finally blurting out, “Look like what? Like you weren’t caught having sex with each other?! Geez, Sunoo! We knew you guys were all over each other but I thought you had enough decency to keep that stuff in the bedroom!” She puts her palms out towards you both and shakes them before turning away once again with her head down, shaking it in disbelief.

“That’s the thing! It’s complicated!” You shout, desperately trying to zip up the back of your dress by yourself but failing.

“Were you or were you not just having sex?” Heeseung says sternly, looking directly at you like a disappointed father. You give up the fight with the zipper and sit down in one of the chairs behind you. It’s you he wants the response from, you can tell by the fact that he hasn’t given Sunoo a single glance.

“Yes, but-”

“Then that’s the answer, Y/n. We get it!” Heeseung turns to Karina and gives her a gross affectionate kiss on the cheek that makes you quirk up an eyebrow in confusion. “You guys are jealous of the love we found and you didn’t want to be alone on Valentine’s Day. So, naturally, you turned to each other! But did you really have to embarrass yourselves in some disorganized attempt to get back at us? Just be together in the privacy of your homes, no need to throw it in our faces.”

Sunoo looks at you, and you at him, once again neither of you being able to look at each other seriously and you both start to laugh, yet again.

“That’s rich coming from you!” You almost slap your knee unironically.

“And…we aren’t actually seeing each other.” Sunoo leans against the wall so casually, his composure now under control. You wonder where this confidence has come from. Either way, it looks good on him.

If it weren’t Sunoo, you wouldn’t be so calm about confessing your conniving plans of fake dating. The way he’s so casually laughing and accepting the fact that you were both caught helps ease the anxieties you know you would have felt. And in this moment you realize why he’s not upset and why he’s not embarrassed: he’s finally moving on from Karina.

And, you guess, the same thing is happening to you with Heeseung.

“We faked it all,” you smile genuinely, “Of course we were upset when you guys got together, but honestly for myself, I would have had an easier time moving on if you two weren’t constantly shoving your love down everyone’s throats.”

“We’re surprised you haven’t been in a hallmark movie yet,” Sunoo adds.

“Exactly! It’s borderline overacting.” Pointing at Sunoo as he nods his head, you relax even more.

Heeseung and Karina stare at the two of you, stunned on an entirely new level. Looks like you and Sunoo are the first to tell them how gross and obnoxious their PDA has been.

Karina looks at Sunoo with a weird glint in her eyes, one that makes you instantly suspicious of what she’s about to say. 

“Sunoo, let’s get out of here,” you suggest before she even has the chance to speak. “I may not be in love with you romantically, but I think it’s safe to say we’re pretty great friends now. And as your new friend, I suggest we blow this popsicle stand and run off together into the sunset!” You jump up quickly and hold out your arm for him to take.

“I agree completely, Y/n!” Sunoo jumps with just as much fervor as you and gladly takes your arm.

As the two of you start to skip past a dumbstruck pair of exes, you pause before Heeseung and boop the tip of his nose playfully. “Take care now. We’ll see you on Monday!” You wink and continue on with Sunoo.

Deep down, you’d give anything to go back in there and explain the situation entirely with your ex, to have one last heart to heart and really see just what’s going through his head and to get some sort of closure. But you know it’s not healthy to act that way anymore. It’s better to move on and enjoy the day with your newfound friend. So what if you’re single this Valentine’s Day? At least you get to be single with Sunoo.

Later that night, as Spongebob plays in the background of Sunoo’s living room, you look around at all the empty Chinese takeout boxes and at Sunoo passed out on his side of the couch, and you realize for the first time you feel genuinely at peace. Sure, you know it’s going to take some time to fully get over Heeseung, but at the end of the day, you might have gained more than you lost.

With a friend like Sunoo by your side through it all, though, you know it won’t be so bad.

♡ pls like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! ♡ masterlist ♡ all rights reserved jayparked 02/14/25 do not copy, repost, or translate. if you're inspired to create something similar to my work, please credit me

[allbark-no-bite]

don’t write checks you can’t cash.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 3.6k)

summary: jake seresin is under your skin. or maybe you’re under his. either way you’re going to eat each other alive. jake isn’t about to take the fall

warnings: mentioned age gap, heavy sexual tension (the smut is coming i promise)

author’s note: back on my topgun bullshit bitches (respectfully). i’m not usually one for multi part fics but i actually wrote something with plot for once so please just bear with me. loosely inspired by Zach Bryan’s ‘nineball’. please note this fic title is subject to change bc i hate it

(you can read part 2 here!)

————————————————————————

You don't believe in love at first sight. You think the whole concept is some foolish idea that people who have already fallen in love have the liberty of saying they believe in. Then people who have been through failed relationship after failed relationship are convinced that they're never going to fall in love because it just doesn't happen. The whole idea pretty much just sets the rest of the population up for failure from the start.

Even the concept of finding the right person one day and growing to love them is hard for you to grasp. Because how can you love someone that much? How do you know you love them enough?There are some days that you don't enjoy the presence of even your closest friends for very long, friends who you would do anything for. Even family, you only tolerated so much.

Your high school boyfriend hated that about you, the fact that you realistically needed so little of him—or anyone for that matter. You have always been violently independent, able to provide what you require, and therefore having to maintain a simplistic relationship became nothing but a monotonous task. Even most of your closest friendships faded with time.

Eventually, you prosed the question: what can someone else give me that I cannot give myself?

The answer was companionship. Because when you strip away everything from a person and all they have left to offer you is themself, you have to be willing to choose them. And sometimes that's not the most appealing quality.

Something did happen, the first time you made eye contact with Lt. Jake Seresin, but it was far from love. It was something terrible in your chest, like an aching. Like you knew in your gut that he was going to change your life. Good or bad, you didn't know, but it was certain to happen.

You don't even believe that you two were destined to meet — you just happened to, and in that moment, the damage was done, it was your fate to ruin each other.

——

You like the way he says your name. You like that he says your name on purpose, like he is intentionally seeking out reasons to say it. It's not as harsh sounding coming from his mouth.

"You from around here, [L/n]?"

You're wiping down the glass hatch of your F/A-18 when he approaches you from behind. You swivel your head to catch sight of him behind your back but he's already making a wide circle around you, his chin tipping up then down as he inspects your plane from behind his tinted aviators.

As you watch him scrutinize your aircraft, you regard him with a certain level of apprehension. Jake Seresin was nothing short of gorgeous. He was six feet of bronze skin and lean muscle, withbright green eyes, and a movie star smile. Not to mention the southern accent that had girls drooling over him.

"Austin," you correct him. "Austin, Texas."

You'd been transferred over to Miramar a little over a month ago, becoming the newest addition to the Dagger squad. California was a nice change of scenery, and everyone you had met so far had welcomed you with open arms. That is, everyone but Lt. Seresin— Hangman as they called him. You were still trying to find your footing with him.

You genuinely don't know what his problem is with you. The guy had hardly even given you a glance since the moment you'd arrived. Your first guess would have been that he was one of those dickheads who didn't like women working in the field, but his relationship with Phoenix disproved that theory.

Your answer seems to warrant his attention, and he looks up. His expression twitches at the correction but he doesn't say anything in response. For the first time since you arrived at Miramar, still, unsmiling green eyes catch yours from across the aircraft.

You hold his gaze. After a moment, your stomach twists in an unsettling way, like even it doesn't know what to do with itself. Your first instinct is to look away. Your brain is telling you that if you do, you can avoid any sort of confrontation that may happen as a result. But it's like you can't.

This is the first time he's looked at you, and now you don't dare to look away.

Even from behind the tint of his perfectly polished aviators, you can make out the distinct color of his green eyes. They're so distracting that you have to remind yourself to breathe.

After what feels like eons of uncomfortable staring, he breaks your gaze —surely it couldn't have been longer than a few seconds. Flustered, you glance around to see if anyone else has picked up on the affair. Fortunately, or unfortunately, you're not quite sure which, it's nearing 6pm and the base is on the better side of empty. It's a Friday evening and everyone is eager to head out for the weekend.

Someone clears their throat. Hangman is still standing there, hands shoved in his pockets like he doesn't have anywhere better to be. You want to say something but your gut is telling you that there's some sort of game going on here and you're not sure of the rules.

Finally, he faintly nods his head, as if to excuse himself, and turns to walk away. You watch his retreating back and relax a little, breathing a bit easier.

As you're turning back to your plane, relieved that the interaction is over, you hear him call back over his shoulder.

“The team is heading to the Hard Deck at nine. Don't be late."

And then he's gone, disappeared between one of the hangars.

——

For nine thirty on a Friday evening, the bar isn't nearly as busy as you'd expected it to be. You don't have to fight for a parking spot out front and there's not even a line at the bar. Other than a rowdy looking gaggle accumulating at the pool table, the atmosphere is pretty laid back. Looking around as you walk further in, there is a handful of people in civilians, but the majority of the crowd is composed of off duty aviators in their summer khakis.

You're about to head over to the bar top, where you were sure you had spotted Captain Mitchell, when someone shouts your name.

"Hawk!"

Your head swivels at the sound of your callsign, and you catch sight of Rooster beckoning to you over at the pool table. Immediately you recognize the familiar faces of the Dagger squad around him. You acknowledge him with a smile and head over to join them.

“And here we thought you were going to be a no-show," the brunette pilot chirps, his arm wrapping around your shoulder as soon as you're close enough. You lean into his embrace while touching his chest with a friendly pat of your hand. Bradley is by no means close to drunk but most definitely more than a little buzzed if you're going off of the smell of beer and lime on his breath and the occasional involuntary twitch of his mustache.

"I thought about it, but I can't keep letting you guys have all the fun," you laugh, holding out your other arm so that you can greet Natasha with a hug as Rooster releases you.

After hugging you, she presses a sweating bottle of beer into your hand. "Coyote bought everyone a round so I figured I'd save you one before the boys wiped them out. Sorry if it's a bit warm, you did show up fashionably late."

You playfully roll your eyes at her, taking the beer anyhow. "Thanks, Phe."

Payback places a large palm on the top of your head, diverting your attention towards him as he returns from the bar. "Don't let her fool you, we're just getting started over here. Rooster isn't even drunk enough to get on the piano yet."

Laughing, you glance over at the brunette aviator. "Now that I've been waiting to see. I hear you're quite the show, Bradshaw."

Since you transferred over to Miramar, you had been hounded nonstop to go out drinking with the team for weeks, and Rooster's infamous performance had been one of their key selling points. That and the fact that the owner, Penny, often gave them free drinks. Apparently she had a thing for Captain Mitchell.

Rooster grins, leaning against the pool stick in his hand as he waits for Fanboy to take his shot. "Let me get a couple more beers deep and I promise you won't be disappointed."

As you go about making your rounds to greet everyone else, you can't help but notice that there's someone missing. After you take a seat beside Bob to watch Rooster and Fanboy play, you glance around the bar a few times, convinced that you've somehow overlooked him despite the fact that the place isn't busy enough for that.

An almost disappointed feeling pulls at you despite how ridiculous the realization makes you feel.

After spending the better part of an half hour trying to push the feeling away, you finally spot a familiar head of blonde hair over at the dartboard. He's by himself, about three darts in and half a bottle of beer down. So much for the personal invitation, you think.

You watch as he throws a dart, practically without so much as aiming whilst contemplating whether or not you even have it in you to muster up the courage to face those green eyes again.

Without giving yourself the chance to back down, you swallow back the rest of your now warm beer and head over.

He tosses another dart just as you reach him, and it finds itself dead center with the previous three.

"With a hand like that, you should be kicking Rooster's ass over there in pool," you say as you come to a stop behind him.

Walking away from the dartboard, Jake turns to grab his bottle of beer from the table beside you.

"I'm not much of a betting man," he huffs, leaning back against the table. The muscles of his biceps bugle distractingly against the sleeves of his uniform.

You look back over your shoulder, watching from a distance as Fanboy's cue clips the eight ball and sends it ricocheting off the sidewall. He groans, and Rooster whoops triumphantly from behind him.

"It wouldn't be much of a bet. Even with his winning streak, I think you'd give him a run for his money."

Hangman takes a sip from his bottle, mouth lingering on the rim before he sets it back down and crosses his arms. "Rooster's all luck and no skill. The table's got a lean."

You raise your eyebrows at the confession, half laughing at his lax confidence. "Oh? And you would know this how?"

"C'mon, son. Fuckin' hit it in."

Body tense, his arm quivers ever so slightly and the pool stick bobs shakily in his hand. He closes his eyes and takes a breath in.

"I haven't got all day, kid."

He breathes out and breathes back in. The smell of cigar smoke and cheap beer swims in his head.

"What're you doin'?! Quit wastin' time."

He exhales, opens his eyes, and hits the pool stick forward. The white cue ball shoots out to the left, bounces against the eight ball, and sends it hurdling towards the side pocket. At the very last moment, it veers off to the left and falls into  the back corner pocket instead.

The man standing on the other side of the table curses, his pool stick dropping to the ground, but Jake pays little mind to him. He straightens, looking around eagerly for the only set of eyes that matter. The grin falls from his face when he realizes the old man isn't even watching, too busy counting out his prize money and yanking out a ten to hand to the bartender.

Jake looks up at the clock on the wall over his shoulder.

12:57 am

"Dad, I wanna go home."

"Not yet, son. I've already got fifty put down on another round."

"Want me to show you?"

His offer makes you pause, and you can't help but cock your head a bit as you try to weigh out just where this is heading. For weeks he has acted as though you barely even existed and now you're engaged in the longest conversion the two of you have had since your arrival.

Jake finishes his drink and sets the bottle down whilst walking over to you. "Final offer. Take it or leave it."

You laugh a little before stepping back so that he can make his way to the pool table. "Lead the way then." But before you can make it too far, his palm finds the flat of your back, pressing you forward so that you're in front of him. You're glad he can't see you because your face flashes hot at the unexpected contact.

"I'm not the one playing, kid. I'm just going to show you the ropes."

"Oh, I didn't-"

Any objections you have about the situation are ignored as he pushes you firmly in the direction of the pool table and asks Payback for his cue. "Look alive, Bradshaw. Hawk is about to show you how this thing is done."

Straightening his wide shoulders, Bradley grins, smug and easy as you and Hangman approach the opposite side of the table. "And here I thought you were here to reclaim your throne now that I'm intoxicated."

Jake grins back. "You don't need to be drunk for me to do that."

Bradley's mustache twitches, but he's still smiling. "Sure."

Jake turns back to you, placing the pool stick in your hand. You can't help but think that his expression is all too confident for someone who has never even seen you play pool.

"Nervous?" he asks as you take the stick from him.

"Should I be?" you ask back, turning your head to watch as Rooster takes the liberty of breaking the rack.

He shakes his head, his green eyes glowing with a warmth that you've yet to see from him. "Not as long as you don't totally suck."

Seeing that it's your turn, you brush past him to stand at the table. "I guess I'll let you be the judge of that."

Thankfully you've played your fair share of pool and so you're able to hold your own for most of the game. Jake remains criminally silent as you play, arms once again crossed as he leans against a nearby stool, but you can feel his gaze burning into your back the entire time. It isn't until the end of the game and you've missed the same ball multiple times that he steps in.

"Shift left," he directs you. When you glance over at him, he nods his head as if to insinuate where you should move but doesn't move from where he's planted himself since the beginning of the game.

Hesitantly, you shuffle over a half step and take the shot. The ball comes closer than you have been but still hits the sidewall just short of the pocket. You huff in frustration, and Rooster steps forward to take his turn, sinking his second to last ball in the same pocket.

"I hope you're ready to buy the next round, Seresin. Looks like Hawk is losing her nerve," Bradley goads, unable to keep himself from boasting a little at your expense. When it comes to Hangman, he can't resist the chance to taunt him.

You roll your eyes at his comment, not bothered so much by it as compared to the fact that you're losing. When it's your turn again, you line up the ball and lean down to assume your position when Jake stops you.

All the sudden he's right beside you, palm pressing into your hip to scoot you to the side. "Move over." When you look at him like he's crazy, he huffs. "C'mon, do you want my help or not?"

It isn't so much of a question as it is a statement and the press of his hand against your side doesn't leave you much of an option and so you shuffle over to the far right side of the pool table.

Before you can even comprehend what's going on, he's leant over you, his impossibly tall frame pressed to your back so that he can reach around you and guide your hands. One wraps around your hand on the stick and the other cups your opposite elbow.

It takes everything in you not to jerk away, overwhelmed by his sudden proximity. Instead you try to focus on controlling your hammering heart and pray he can't tell how clammy your palms suddenly are.

"Hey, that's not allowed," Rooster complains. "Is that allowed?"

Coyote shrugs. "It's not not allowed."

Distracted by their bickering, his voice in your ear nearly makes you jump. "Hit the cue ball. Hard."

The lean press of his body is almost enough to distract you from the fact that he's done a god awful job of lining up the shot. There's not one alternate reality where you make this shot.

"You can't be serious."

He's so close that you feel him smile beside your ear. "Dead."

"Any day now," Rooster prompts, as if you aren't aware that Jake Seresin has been pressed against you for an uncomfortably long amount of time. And if Hangman has noticed the fact that your heart is fluttering erratically inside your chest or that your skin is flushed hot to the touch, he doesn't let on. 

"I'm waiting," he reminds you, his voice placid in your ear.

Against your better judgement, you take the shot.

The white cue ball hurtles into the black eight ball with a hard clack and sends it flying across the table. It smashes against the sidewall, exactly as you had expected it to, and you release a breath of defeat. And then something unexpected happens. The ball slows, but instead of bouncing to a stop, it continues to roll left across the table. You all watch as it rolls directly into back corner pocket of the table.

"Well I'll be damned," Payback mutters aloud.

"Hell yeah, [L/n]!" Phoenix shouts, her loud and robust voice ringing out across the bar. "Shots are on Bradshaw!"

"Thanks buddy," Coyote laughs, teasingly grabbing the back of the brunette aviator's shoulders as he heads off for the bar.

Bradley waves them off, looking a bit miffed but still good naturedly accepting his defeat.

"How about it? You're a cold blooded killer."

Like a bucket of ice water being dumped over your head, the sound of Hangman's voice coming from behind you jerks you back to reality. You haven't even noticed that he'd stepped away. Something inside you twinges at the loss of his body pressed against yours.

You turn around to face him, your brain still trying to comprehend what just happened.

"How'd you do that?" you ask incredulously, your tone almost accusing. A deeper part of you wants to ask 'why did you do that' but the smile on his face stops you.

His top row of pearly white teeth that you glimpse is pristine, however brief, before his pink lips come back together in a more subdued smile. It's an expression that is so very genuine and carefree that it sends a spark straight through to your heart. You've never seen him actually smile before, and especially not at you.

"You're smiling," you accuse before you can stop the words from coming out of your mouth, half giddy at the discovery yourself.

Jake looks slightly away, turning his head briefly in order to suppress his smile before looking back to you. “Yeah? So?” His green eyes are twinkling as he says it, like he knows he’s been caught.

You jab the short end of the pool stick into the center of his chest, but he’s quick to grab it before it can find home.

“Up until yesterday, you could barely stand to even look at me,” you say.

He bites the inside of his cheek. “That’s not true.”

“So you’re saying that I’m seeing things.” You try to tug back on the pool stick but Hangman doesn’t release it.

“I’m saying you shouldn’t be seeing things.”

With that, a larger portion of the previous smile is gone from his face, a more sober look replacing it.

Just like that the spark fades. Even though you want to shut down, turn your back to his face and just walk away. You force yourself to keep talking, holding your voice steady. “I don’t think I’m following you.”

Inside you know exactly what he means.

His eyes flicker up over your shoulder but the Dagger squad has already moved on to crowd around Rooster at the piano.

You clamp your jaw together as he releases the pool cue and crosses his arms in front of his chest. It makes him look more relaxed than he is.

"Look, whatever this is—whatever you think I am, I'm not." He says this with the realistic conviction of someone who knows that even if it is, you can't. He says it like he’s trying to convince himself.

You’re not quite sure how old he is—barely thirty if you had to guess— but he’s older. Too old. Not to mention fraternization is deeply frowned upon.

"I know," you answer firmly. Because you do. Because even if it isn't, you want it, whatever it is.

He stares down at you with those green eyes, his pupils pinpoint sharp. After a moment he heaves a sigh and releases it, nodding his head. “So we’re in agreement?”

“Yeah,” you answer. “We’re in agreement.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

We have Shifty, shifter Stan, shifter Wendy, and shifter Soos. Now get ready for for SHIFTER FORD!!!!! (You know this was bound to happen)

This got crazy long, so here it is under the cut.

Ford hatches early in the hospital, before Stan is born, and it messes up his shift so he has an extra finger, and unfortunately the human doctors notice before Maurice can fix the issue, so now Ford has to keep up having his extra finger while Maurice scrambles to make sure each one of his hospital visits as a baby go smoothly, as Ford doesn't actually have bones to look at.

Ford hates his extra finger, as he sees it as him messing up his humanness. Everyone tells him he's a freak and picks on him about it, and every day he's terrified somethings gonna notice him and take him away.

So Stan, who similar to canon takes the role of his protector, is a life saver in his eyes. Ford feels safe with his human twin there draw all the attention and looking out for and comforting him. Ford decides he'll help Stan by being the 'smart' twin and helping him pass school, as he notices Stan struggles with a lot of the material.

Then he notices people like him more as he gets better and better grades. Specifically Filbrick and his teachers, who praise him in one breath and put Stan down in the next. The older he gets, the more he realizes being human is pretty easy! All he has to do is be the smartest and no one pays attention to his extra finger! So he doesn't have to drag Stan into a dangerous life style boating around! They can stay with people and be safe!

Ford never tells Stan he's a Shifter, and doesn't tell him the change of plans. This also means he's not as versatile as shifter!Stan, as hes too busy schooling to practice.

So they still have the science fair incident, and Stan gets kicked out, and Ford is furious.

With Stan.

This was Fords big chance! He's been doing so well as a human! People noticed him and he was going to go places and nothing would ever put him in danger because he'd be too important! And Stan ruined it! Stan doesn't have the same problems fitting in like Ford! He doesn't need the extra layers of blending in and the fear being taken away! What does Stan have to be upset about!

Everything gets worse when Maurice drags him to boot camp, and Ford stubbornly still goes to college at the same time. Now he's juggling human classes with Maurices criminal classes and he hates it. He doesn't want to be a criminal! That's Stan's thing >:( he wants to do science and be a proper human person! Unfortunately Maurice is right in that they do have things Ford needs to know, like who to trust and shapeshifter secret languages and such.

So after a year he finally graduates boot camp and can focus on his studies, and get down to what he really wants to do, which is become a famous scientist.

And track down and spy on Stan of course. Stan's his base, and he needs to make sure nothing tries to kidnap him to get to Ford. Obviously Stan's out there having the time of his life or something, but Ford still cares about him even if he's angry. Surely Stan's living it up somewhere! Stan's a human, he has it easy in this world!

Except Ford can't find Stan. He sees commercials sometimes with Stan using different names, but by the time he tracks them down Stan's long gone and disappeared again. Ford doesn't have a huge web of connections to rely on, because he didn't care to make a lot during boot camp since he wasn't going to become a criminal, so he's mostly relying on himself.

In the end the pressure of school and stress of trying to find Stan get to him and he has breakdown. Fiddleford is there, and now he knows Fords a shapeshifter because Ford is having a panic attack and can't stop melting. They both freak out before Ford explains everything and calms Fiddleford down as he explained there is no shapeshifter plot to take over and enslave humans or whatever he'd been babbling about.

Fiddleford agrees to help him track down Stan, doubling the search party and taking some of the load off of Fords shoulders.

For max angst they don't track him down until the trunk incident, finally figuring out he was last seen in some town in Arizona or something. At this point it's been years (canon doesn't say when the trunk happened, so now I get to decide) and Fords just moved up to Gravity Falls (because theres less influence from outside organizations that might want to kidnap him). Ford has just graduated and had to put his plan of studying other supernatural creatures on hold (to know their weaknesses and expose them so they can't ever be a threat to him again) and blames Stan for pushing back all his plans >:(.

Fiddlefords too busy moving to Cali with his fiance at this point to come with, but he demands Ford introduce them at some point.

Ford rolls up into whatever town Stan was in, irritated and hot and sweaty, realizes Stan's gone, again, and is furious.

Except he finds Stan's car So Stan must be around somewhere. Searches the town and sneaks around and overhears a conversation where some people are laughing about the guy they drove out to the desert in a trunk and left to die, wondering how long he'll last. That can't be Stan of course, why would anyone try to kill Stan?

That's what Ford tells himself on repeat as be drives out to rescue the person, because he's not about to leave someone to die in a trunk.

It's Stan of course, already working on chewing himself out and looking terrible and covered in blood and hey Fords here! Stan must be dead or hallucinating if Fords here! Starts babbling to Ford while his mouth is full of blood and Ford is desperately trying to drag him to his car and not cry as Stan basically apologizes for being born and is delirious. Drives the next closest town and calls Maurice (who in a move very similar to Stan, he's called so often Maurice sorta cares about him. Except in Fords case he calls to ask about if theyve found anything on Stan and to brag about all his college accomplishments. Not because he's lonely or anything, he's just proving to his spawner how successful he is without being a criminal).Ford can't take Stan to a hospital, because hospitals are Bad and obviously Ford can take care of his own brother!

Maurice shows up, sees Ford crying and covered in Stans blood and makes them go to a hosptial. Cue more angst as the doctor lists how terrible Stans doing and Stan breaks out the moment he becomes conscious and Ford has to hunt him down (again!!). Stans somehow made it back to his car to find Maurice, who was in the middle of stealing it for Ford. Maurice drugs hum with something and calls Ford to come pick him up, already done with this whole mess.

Then more angst as Ford drags him back to his house in Gravity Falls (which is still under construction) and yells at him the whole time about how hard Fords been looking for him and how stressed he is, etc, while Stans just 🥺 about Ford caring and also high on pain killers and whatever Maurice gave him.

Ford is now convinced that it's his job to keep track of Stan actually. The human worlds only dangerous to humans or something and now Stan's just gonna have to live with him forever so nothing else tries to kill him. And he's gonna go get a medical degree once he has some free time, can't trust those hospitals, they lost Stan. Also Ford cannot deal with the stress of hunting Stan down a second time. It's a full time job keeping up with him when he's on the move and Ford does not have the time.

Stan still doesn't know Fords a shapeshifter. Whatever minor shifting Ford does to get Stan in and out of the car he just waves away as drug filled hallucinations. Still isn't even sure he's alive.

I can't decide how Stan would learn about it. I think the funniest way would be him waking up in the motel Fords been staying at while he's waiting for his house to be finished, and sees Ford doing his Shifter stretching. Ford, too used to being alone or with fiddleford, didn't even think to do this somewhere more private and turns around to see Stan watching him. Instead of freaking out Stan's just convinced he's dead and this is the afterlife actually. Or in a coma and his brains playing death visions or something. Doesnt tell ford this of course, just nonchalantly accepts Shifter Ford for months before Ford realizes Stan doesn't think this is real.

Cue more angst.

[gleafer]

On my Patreon, I illustrate prompts with quick descriptions for writers and artists to run with!

Here’s The Duel! After the huge success of the bullet catch, Aziraphale gets the stage bug and takes his show on the road, leaving behind a very perturbed, lonely demon.

So he hatches a plot to squash this bug!

You can find what the brilliant writers have come up with here (did I mention I am over the moon that this exists???)

[amultitideofdrops]

Random AU because I love alternate character origins/childhood.

Julian grew up on Cardassia, as a ward/totally not adopted child of Kelas Parmak. Let's just say that Cardassia attacked his family's passenger ship on the way back from adigeon prime or something, with Julian being a lone survivor. Tain suspects the reason why the Bashir's took their child to the planet so gets his personal doctor to check the kid- out the secrets of true genetic enhancement are too good an opportunity for the head of the Obsidian Order to pass up.

And soft hearted Kelas obviously gets attached to this soft skinned child way too quickly, and Julian whose brain is overwhelming him and doesn't understand what happened to his parents, is equally quick to cling right back. Kelas dutifully reports back that he's just a normal child, and it was likely one of his deceased parents who was augmented. When Tain decides it's best to get rid of the last bit of evidence of their unwarranted attack on a civilian ship, Kelas manages to convince him to let the doctor keep the child.

(So Tain gets some extra bonus leverage over the person he has to show weakness around, quite a win in his opinion.)

Kelas doesn't know how to interact with children, let alone a human one. So he just tries to be kind and involve Julian in all the things that interest him. Which is just what the newly genius child needs. The two bond easily, though Kelas always has to maintain the facade of this being more a mentor relationship than anything. Keeping a distance around the few Cardassian's who ever see the child. He's taken aback each time Julian gets clingy, wrapping his arms around Kelas' waist and holding on like a barnacle, or small hands gripping near possessively into his.

Julian's nearly as lonely as Kelas is on Cardassia, but they have each other.

He goes once a month to Tain's office, at first just accompanying Kelas on his check ups, but as he gets older Tain asks he makes his own visit, and they play Kotra and Kal-Toj and near a new game every week which he always wins. He tests Julian's Kardassi, and then teaches him Romulan and Vulcan, just to keep his mind sharp he says. He presses large volumes to his hands each week and asks his opinion the next one. Kelas sees Tain's knowing smile as he sees the human off at the end of each visit and despairs.

Of course Kelas still dissents. Of course he stills gets caught. And 15 year old Julian shouts and screams and fights like a vole when they come to arrest Kelas.

Garak's interrogation with the doctor goes even quicker here, unbeknownst to him that the dead stare of his eyes are promising retribution against someone else entirely.

Kelas goes to the labour camp. And Julian, after Tain is overruled by Central Command, is sent home to Earth in a hostage exchange with the Federation.

Julian gets debriefed and counselled to shit, before living with a foster family up until he applies to Starfleet Academy because he never forgot.

(He briefly considered going into Intelligence rather than medicine, as a quicker way to find out what he needed, but if he finds Kelas again he's going to take after him, not the man who locked him away)

Cue the start of DS9- which Julian couldn't apply for fast enough. His superiors are aware of his Cardassian knowledge, but not how he got it, and everyone's just generally thankful they have someone who can deal with the systems and any diplomats that come by.

And how useful for Julian, that the protege of Tain is exiled on the same station, so full of secrets and so willing to approach Julian straight away.

All this to say Julian hatches a plot to honey trap Garak and get information on where Kelas was sent to and how to free him. It's a brilliant plan really, and no his feelings aren't confused on the matter. He's staying up days to help Garak detox from the Wire because the man isn't going to die from hating the cold too much dammit. If he's enjoying the book club discussions it's because it reminds him of the same titles he discussed with Kelas. If he's entranced by the movement of grey hands, he's probably just remembering the blood on them.

Julian eventually plays his hand sometime prior to Improbable Cause, and Garak is both scared and horny, and mostly confused because my dear doctor, what makes you think I'd know where he went?

Idk how this goes for the rest of the middle, but there's some awkwardness in the dominion camp, even more awkwardness between the two trying to reconcile their feelings and their past, and of course post season Cardassia sees Julian and Kelas reunite.

And then the worst meet the parents dinner you can imagine happens.

[somewhere-south-of-neutral]

Senior year of high school, a classmate and I both received the STAR award, which is given to the student or students who get the highest SAT scores in their graduating class each year. The award ceremony was held at the clubhouse of an old wealthy social club, the kind that, in Atlanta at least, probably doesn't want you digging into its past. I am Jewish, and the other recipient from my school was Black. Most of the honorees, students from high schools all over the city, were members of one minority or another. A large number (though I don't remember if it was more, less, or equal to half) were also women. I remember thinking that there was a good chance that almost none of us would have been allowed into that room before the 1980s. And then I remember thinking, as one student after another who didn't fit the white, Christian, male mold these clubs were built to cater to went on stage to accept their award, that our presence in that room was a victory in more ways than one.

I have been to Masada, from which you can still see the outlines of the Roman warcamps that besieged a doomed band of Jewish rebels and where, nearly two thousand years later, an Orthodox rabbi tearfully looked up from the ruin he was investigating to inform the watching archaeologists that the ancient mikveh they had found, the oldest we know of, was kosher.

I have stood in the ruined Jewish quarters in Lisbon and Madrid, where there are very few Jews anymore. But I was there, and I did not need to hide. I have been to the former headquarters of the Spanish Inquisition, where, in buildings made of bricks hewn from the graves of my forebears, they orchestrated my nonexistence. But I was there, and I existed, and the inquisition did not.

I have been to Savannah, GA, where the descendants of those who fled the inquisition founded a synagogue. The Inquisition headquarters were in ruin, but that synagogue still stands strong, and people still pray there. It is beautiful.

I have been to Berlin, where less than a century ago a plot to ensure that I could never exist, along with the descendants of many other minorities, was hatched and came frighteningly close to succeeding. But I was there, and I walked the streets visibly Jewish, made so not by a badge of shame but by my kippah, which I wore, and still wear, proudly wherever I go.

I have been to Prague, where centuries ago, according to myth, the rabbis created the golem, a magical protector built out of necessity to shield the community from harm. The golem is not there, but the community still stands. The Great Synagogue is one of the most beautiful and ornate buildings I have ever been to.

In every generation they have tried to destroy us, but we are still here and they are not. These next four years, and likely many after, will be hard. They will be steered by those who want us dead, and when I say us I mean all of us, any who do not fit their very narrow mold, but we will survive. And, one day, our (literal or figurative) descendants will stand in the places where they plotted to destroy us, and they will be free, and they will work to undo the damage, and their presence in those places will be a victory in more ways than one.

Good luck. Stay safe. We will get through this together. I love you.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Doctor Who, but Chronologically: 53

So, we go from 1996 to 2005, which is wild, because 1941 got three different fucking episodes but apparently the Millennium went unmarked by Doctor Who. This is also the span of time the show was off air, actually. Late 80s to 2005, with one return for the film in 1996. Hmm.

Anyway! GET READY FOR ROSE

This, back in 2005, was our first episode of new Doctor Who since its cancellation - the first episode of what I now call the Welsh series, after RTD forcibly moved production to Cardiff and thus created an industry that substantially increased Welsh GDP. Let me tell you, lads, we watched this one and we were EXCITED. It was new!!! It had modern special effects!!! It looked so impressive and shiny and high status!!!

Hilarious watching it now, two decades later, and going "Why was this filmed through a thin layer of vasoline?"

(Also hilarious seeing Cardiff pretending to be London on streets and buildings that very much do not look like that anymore. Queens Arcade! The street by the cinema with the eyebrows! Howells! What a difference 20 years makes. Such a nostalgic episode. BUT I DIGRESS)

So plot-wise we get a fairly simple episode. Autons like Rory the Roman have arrived on Earth and want to take over, but they're simply inert shop mannequins unless the Nestene Consciousness - a big vat of living plastic with a sort of lumpy face - transmits a telepathic signal to them. The Doctor is looking for this vat of plastic so he can preferably tell them to leave for a less killy planet, and if that fails, to tip a lurid blue test tube of what appears to be Panda Pop but we're assured is "anti-plastic" into the vat to... melt it more. But! He cannot find the vat, because he is failing to trace the signal.

But STORY-WISE we get, apparently, the introduction of Rose!

Long-time readers of these posts will know that I have strong opinions on how companions should be used. If they cannot pass the Sexy Lamp Test - if replacing them with a sexy lamp would literally not change the story - then the writer has utterly fucked it and needs to reconsider their career. For my money, Tumblrs, companions serve three varying purposes, to whit:

Providing fun chemistry with the Doctor so we can enjoy the pairing

Being the point-of-view human character for the audience, i.e. asking the questions or posing the theories that will make the story make sense according to our understanding

Providing the emotional connection to the other characters that mean we get fully fleshed out stories rather than boring plot points. The Doctor is plot, the companion is story

Bringing the Basic Common Sense to the proceedings to counter the Doctor's Wild Scientific Knowledge and Schemes

Each does these in different ways of course, but what's brilliant here is that Rose has all four in absolute spades. They're meeting for the first time here and he's super grumpy, but they make each other laugh almost immediately. As the Doctor strides about self-importantly, a cannon ball of purpose and curt non-explanations, it's Rose who pushes him to explain what's going on in terms she (and we) will understand, paring the plot down for us to follow. In this story, Eccleston's Doctor is the most aloof and stand-offish and Above The Petty Affairs Of Humans as we've ever seen him (except Capaldi); he cares deeply about trying to save everyone, but once an individual human is dead, he simply puts them out of his mind and moves on. It's Rose, grieving the possible loss of Mickey, who reminds us that these are people that are being lost. And, ultimately, Rose actually provides most of the final solutions - firstly by listening to the Doctor wittering on about how scientifically the Nestene MUST be using a big round circle for transmissions and going "That's the London Eye, here's the access hatch," and secondly by literally saving the Doctor's life.

And lol, yeah, she does save his life. She gets a great lil speech: "Got no A Levels, no job, no future," she says, grabbing a hanging rope while the Doctor is menaced by Autons. "But I tell you what I have got. Jericho Street Junior School under 7s gymnastics team. I got the bronze."

And she fucking. Just Tarzan swings. Right into the Autons who are holding the anti-plastic Panda Pop, knocking them right into the big vat. Incredible. What a babe.

Three last things before I wrap up!

Firstly, Christ, we get so much information about who Rose is. We're shown her messy bedroom, her useless boyfriend (side note he is SUPER USELESS in this. He was not this bad on a spaceship with Madame de Pompadour. My god, he's got some development coming), her job, her mam, her thoughts about the future. She left school for a boy, and now regrets it. She wants to make something of herself, but doesn't know how. After her job is blown up by the Doctor at the start, her mam Jackie (we've met her! We saw her recently, in Father's Day) suggests she try getting a job in a local business.

"Oh great," Rose says sarcastically. "The butchers."

"Well, maybe it'll do you good," Jackie says back. "That shop was giving you airs and graces."

... and in those two lines - in that one exchange - we know everything we need to about these people. God, it's the sort of character writing that you dream of managing. The simple mundanity of it, and what it tells you about them both; their position in society, what they think of it, what they want and aspire to and believe. Impeccable. Rose is a working class girl who dreams of more, who wants a life that's more than this. Jackie is a loving mother who's firmly in the crab bucket, and feels shame about her own life when she sees Rose reach up. God it's good.

Also, Rose has a GREAT reaction to seeing the TARDIS for the first time.

Secondly! This is seemingly an introduction of sorts for this Doctor as well! At one point, he looks in a mirror and remarks that this face is "not bad, but look at the ears", which is interesting, because we later find out he's had it a while. An internet nutter has the world's worst photoshopped prop showing Eccleston at the Kennedy Assassination (presumably he was there sorting out the Silver Nemesis) among other historical points, so the lad's been about. But alone, and avoiding mirrors.

We are also shown some super powers! He can read a book in the time it takes to flick from front to back, and he can feel planetary rotation, and he can speak Liquid Plastic. Exciting.

But also, he's constantly referencing a war here, which I suspect is going to be hell on our question list. The Nestenes lost their protein planets in the war, so they want Earth. He almost cries at the vat, telling it he tried to save their world, but he couldn't. Lots of references, but alas, once again, no answer as to which damn war this is. In theory, the episode after an introduction would explain that of course :) Presumably we'll get those answers next episode :) Surely this watch order would make us wait until, like, the year Five Billion to find out :) Ho ho ho

Finally, some absolute iconic moments in this one, but my particular favourites are: the look of Plastic Mickey and his glitching speech, with Rose literally not noticing a difference (says a lot about the quality of Mickey); Rose trying to google the word "Doctor" and expecting it to work; and my absolute favourite, which is Rose and the Doctor trying to fight a plastic arm in the living room while Jackie turns a hairdryer on for her COMPLETELY BONE DRY HAIR to give a reason as to why she misses the action. Campy fun, 10/10.

SO! Let's update the board!

“She” (an unknown person) is returning (Suspects: River, Missy, Me, Clara)

There is something on Donna’s back

An entire planet, Pyrovilia, just… disappeared, somehow. (Maybe because the TARDIS is exploding??? Saturnine was also lost, and that WAS because of the TARDIS exploding. The lion man’s planet was also lost but he was a bit of a knob about it if I’m honest. The Thijarian planet was destroyed by some sort of impact). Is this the Flux?

The TARDIS is sort of melting because it’s corrupted, but it’s fine again. NOPE, back to not working.

The Doctor has employed(?) Nardole

(And Nardole was “reassembled???” Nardole had glass nipples and invisible hair?? He used to be blue, and could apparently go back to it??? He’s some sort of helplessly criminal con-artist??? WHAT THE FUCK IS HE)

There’s an immortal Viking girl now. Her name is Me and she’s now looking after the people the Doctor abandons

Why was Rory entirely unconcerned by the entire world suddenly going silent when that is Not Normal and should have been, at the very least, extremely disconcerting?

What did the Doctor do to Queen Lizzie One?

Why is Amy seeing a one-eyed woman in a vanishing window? (She’s with the Silents, but we don’t know why Amy saw her)

Why is Amy’s pregnancy inconclusive? (Maybe because the baby had Time Lord DNA?) She’s deffo pregnant and the baby becomes River, but why inconclusive?

Who is Sarah-Jane Smith?

How is the Doctor Bill’s teacher and why/where does he have an office?

What is going on with the Cyber War and the Cyberium???

What happened with the Other Cyber War? Were either of these Cyber wars affected by the Doctor blowing them up with Nemesis?

What happened with the Third War that deleted the void?

Why does Rose seem particularly important?

What order do these Doctors go in? (Eccleston, Tennant, uncertain, Smith, Capaldi, Whittaker)

Which companion just… forgot the Doctor, and how?

Yaz and Vinder are about to die as Mori/Mwri/Muuri (Not anymore, somehow)

There is a Lupari shield around Earth.

What’s a Time War? Did this destroy the Doctor’s planet and/or family? NEW INFO: did this destroy the Auton world?

What’s the Rift?

What’s Bad Wolf? Gwyneth saw “the Big Bad Wolf” in Rose’s mind, and it was on a 1987 poster as graffiti

In which war did the Doctor become a war criminal, and how?

Is Rory plastic or not? Yeah, must be, he couldn’t possibly remember being plastic otherwise

Why is the Doctor sulking on a cloud?

How exactly does the Doctor have a cloud?

What exactly happened with Strax to, uh, tame him?

Which friend killed Strax?

Which friend brought Strax back?

Where did this lesbian lizard and human couple come from?

What happened with Clara as Souffle Girl and the Daleks?

How does Clara actually join?

Why so many Claras? A psychic midwife says she’s just normal human

Why is Missy apparently in robo-heaven? Is this because she’s now dead?

Why is probably!Missy pushing Clara and the Doctor together?

What is Trensilor and what happened there?

Who is Handles?

The Doctor is about to be dissolved by a beautiful geode man

The universe is being crushed by the Flux

Will the Doctor open the fobwatch? Is it actually just a pager?

Sontarans are invading Earth again

Who is Kate?

Who is Osgood? Another name of Clara’s again?

The fuck is the deal with the Grand Serpent

Does Martha get to go to an ice cream planet with 12-fingered massage aliens?

How did the Doctor forget Clara?

Who is Bill’s puddle girlfriend Heather? This is presumably the star-eyed water faerie

How did Nardole die?

When does the Doctor shrink and enter a Dalek called Rusty?

Whittaker is falling to her death rn

Was that ring relevant?

Does anyone know the Doctor’s name? Missy says it’s “Who”

When did Yaz talk to Dan about fancying the Doctor?

When did Dan talk to the Doctor about fancying Yaz?

What’s happening with the bees?

What happened with Donna’s ex and a giant spider?

What war wiped out the Daleks, and is it one of the ones already mentioned?

What did the Doctor mean when he said “The (Daleks) always live, while I lose everything?”

If Dalek Caan is the last Dalek left why are there more now?

How did the rest of the Time Lords die?

How and why did Amy melt?

What’s the question that will make silence fall?

Why do the Silents… want silence to fall?

How and why are Silents at war with the Doctor when he… hasn’t even heard of them?

How does Hitler get out of the cupboard?

What’s the significance of fish fingers and custard?

Why does the Doctor feel guilt about Rose, Martha and Donna?

What happened with the space whale?

How does the Doctor survive River? He doesn’t, apparently

How does he erase himself from history

Did Captain Jack lose his memories to the same people as the Doctor? What did he lose?

When did the Doctor send the Daleks into a void to save the universe?

Why do Amy and Rory think the Doctor is dead? Is it because of River as an astronaut?

Is Matt Smith’s Doctor a tree racist?

Why is the beautiful geode woman stealing people into a Passenger form?

River says she’ll die one day when the Doctor doesn’t remember her, let’s hope she doesn’t mean it

Why doesn’t the TARDIS like Clara?

When was the Master Prime Minister?

How do Amy and Rory rejoin the Doctor given that they haven’t died yet in 1950s Manhattan?

[ellewritesalright]

The Lost Princess - Part 2

Kaz Brekker x fem!reader

Part 1

Synopsis: The old Queen Mother of Kerch's former royal family is offering a hefty reward to whoever returns her rumored-to-be-alive granddaughter to her. Kaz being Kaz hears about the reward and hatches an elaborate plot involving a fake princess. Reader is a lowly amnesiac orphan and escaped indenture who flees to Ketterdam where she gets tangled in Kaz Brekker's plot.

A/N: Hi folks!! I hope you've all been good--it's been a busy time for me but I'm so excited to be posting part 2! Just a reminder to everyone that the story is inspired by the movie and musical Anastasia. Once again, I hope it makes sense lmao

Warnings: mentions of sickness, death, drowning, violence, the Kerch indenture system. Me rambling. pls let me know if I've missed anything

Word count: 2901

.........

The dreams were worse tonight.

The once gentle, whispering voices turned to screams. Someone was calling for you, crying into the pitch black night with a painful tremor in their voice. You wanted to call back but couldn't find the strength. Honestly, when have you ever had that kind of strength? You're not brave, not like you should be. There were times at the big house where you would get so angry with the other servants, angry enough that you felt ready enough to cuss them out, yet you never did. You were too afraid of the consequences that stepping out of line would yield.

Your nightly visions only further prove your cowardice. In the dark of your nightmare, there was no hope, and you woke up shaking and nauseated.

The streets below the window of your room were still populated despite the late hours. It was the end of the week, though, and you figured people were using the night to let loose. The lantern beside your bed had long burned out, and you rummaged in your trunk for the pair of shiny candlesticks and matches you had stolen from Devisser's home--the wax had almost all burned out but there were still the holders. The brass would fetch enough money for you to survive maybe two weeks. It was not enough, though. Nothing was ever enough. You could have stolen his wife's entire collection of jewelry and you still wouldn't be able to get a ticket out of Kerch. No amount of money could strike your name from the lost indentures list.

There was always that Brekker that the shopkeeper had steered you towards. If he could do what she said and help you get to Ravka then you should find him as soon as possible. You had nearly gone to see him several times in the last few days, but you always chickened out. You would head over to the Crow Club with every intention of meeting Brekker, and yet, you could never bring yourself to go inside.

You were about to light one of the candles but instead you packed them away and pulled your day clothes from your trunk. You probably looked disheveled as you hit the streets, but not less composed than most of the people around you. A man stumbled past you, drunk, before he leaned into a post and emptied his guts into the street. The barrel really was a lovely place. You should have come sooner.

You pulled up the collar of your jacket to protect yourself from the wind that seemed to pick up the closer you got to the Crow Club. People were milling about the streets, their chatter and whispers carrying through the crisp air. What kind of secrets did they share? And how long would it take before their secrets infected the entirety of the barrel? In the short time you had been here it seemed you had heard the phrases "I heard it from" and "I assure you it is true" a thousand times. Everyone was a gossip, which made everyone dangerous. All it would take for you to be found by Devisser or the stadwatch was a rumour about your origins. Speculation about you might lead to the uncovering of your deserted indenture or people might think you were a runaway Grisha. The last thing you needed was for people to think you were valuable or worth notice. You were just another face in the crowd; your only goal was to go to Os Kervo.

The club was bustling with people as you arrived. You stood back a bit, biting at the inside of your cheek. For a moment you debated whether you should just go home, but you couldn't seem to make up your mind. You could only wait. As for what you were waiting for, you had no idea. A sign from the saints, maybe? Anything at all that would tell you to trust the club and the Brekker inside of it.

A young man stood against the building, staring directly at you as you eyed the crow sign above the door; it swung in the breeze, as though it was about to take flight. The man had been outside before when you passed by, watching you closely then as he was now. He called out to you.

"Have you finally plucked up the courage to come inside this evening?"

Your stare snapped down to him. He palmed a pair of pistols at his waist, but there was no threat in the action. It looked like more of a comfort or a habit that he had. He had never interacted with you before, just stood watch.

"I don't know," you answered, truth in your words. You stepped closer to the building, closer to the man. "I was thinking about it."

"Well, you look cold, perhaps you should think about it inside," he smiled.

A short scoff escaped you and you moved to stand before him. "If I entered the club I wouldn't need to think about entering the club."

"Sounds logical to me." He tilted his head at you. "What are you afraid of?"

You paused. There was nothing innately scary about the club. You weren't a gambler nor were you a drinker, so you wouldn't be trapped in a cycle of either if you decided to go inside. What you were doubting was the person you were supposed to see. If you were to believe the shopkeeper, this Brekker could be the key to your future. He could help you attain your lifelong dream of finding your family in Os Kervo. It was the idea that you might finally be getting what you wanted that made your stomach turn to lead.

"I just… I have to ask a big favour of someone I've never even met and I don't know how they'll react," you decided to tell him. It was close enough to the truth, and he considered what you said.

"There's no use in worrying over it, then," he said. "It sounds like something you just have to do."

His words were encouraging, and you smiled at him.

"If I may, who are you asking a favour of?"

"Someone called Brekker."

His mouth desperately wanted to curve into a smirk and you could tell that he was doing all he could to stifle a laugh. This reaction made your fear return, and you frowned up at him. He noticed your pointed look and managed to clear his throat.

"What's wrong with Brekker?" You questioned.

"Nothing at all. It's just funny to me that you're so afraid of seeing Kaz."

"You know him?"

"Know him? We're great friends. You're gonna love the man." He leaned towards you, raising a brow. "In fact, why don't you and I go inside and meet him right now."

His tone was playful with a hint of deceit, but you could tell he was not entirely dishonest. If you had to go out on a limb you would say that he was not trying to lead you astray.

You nodded, and he grinned, leading you inside.

……….

The breeze caught the curtains in Kaz's office. He had been doing the books when Inej came in, giving him a report of the whispers on the street. She was still there, explaining to him about an actor that Pekka Rollins was training to be the missing princess. Apparently the actor was very convincing, and--to add insult to injury--she had been one of the ones Kaz auditioned and ultimately turned away. But if he rejected her it must have been for a good reason. Still, the thought of Pekka fooling the old lady and getting the reward put a sour taste in Kaz's mouth. That reward was his. She was his pigeon.

Inej was interrupted by the door squeaking open, making a wedge of space just big enough that Jesper poked his head in.

Kaz spat his name, glaring daggers into his friend's face. "What could possibly be important enough for you to be here? I told you to watch the door."

"I was watching the door," Jesper replied, "when I came across someone who wanted to meet with you."

"Tell them I'm not seeing anyone right now," he dismissed, turning back to Inej. He knew he was being harsh, but the information he had just been given put him in a foul mood. He would likely seethe for the rest of the night, snapping at anyone who bothered him.

"Oh, you'll want to see them, I can promise you that." Jesper opened the door, gesturing for someone to come in with a "here we are, my dear."

You stepped past the threshold and immediately Kaz felt his anger diminish. After waiting for nearly a week since that day in the shop, you had made your way to him. There was apprehension in the muscles of your shoulders as you took in the room. Your eyes fell on him and he stared back, studying your features properly for the first time. There was something uncanny about your face, and you certainly looked more like the missing princess than everyone else he had seen for the job. You murmured a quick introduction, eyes darting to Inej but quickly falling back to him as you told them your name and began to explain why you were here.

"I have an issue I was told could be solved by a man named Brekker. I assume that's you." You tilted your chin at him, uneasiness in your stance. It didn’t take a genius to tell that you were nervous.

"You assume correctly, Miss Vos." He motioned for you to sit in the armchair before his desk, and he stepped behind the surface. Jesper and Inej stood by the wall, and you glanced over your shoulder at them before meeting Kaz's waiting stare. "Your issue?"

"I need to go to Ravka, but I don't have the money for travel papers. Also… it's not exactly legal for me to leave the country."

He half expected you to lie, to say something other than what he had overheard in Eugenia's shop, but you didn't. You either trusted him enough to be honest--which didn't seem likely judging from the way you sat with your spine as rigid as a marble post--or you had no other choice but to be frank with him. It was probably the latter.

He looked down at you, responding smoothly, "Normally I wouldn't be able to help you with something like that, but as luck would have it, I can obtain the proper documentation."

Your shoulders relaxed a bit, your face softening. But you had barely any time for ease as he spoke again.

"However, my offer is conditional," he said, leaning into the desk. You swallowed, brows pulling together as you looked up at him. "Have you heard the rumours of a missing princess?"

You gave a quick nod.

"And have you heard of the Grand Duchess Marien?"

"I know the name."

"Good. Then perhaps you'll know that the Duchess is the mother of the late king," he explained. "She's been searching for any leads on the missing princess."

"I don't see the relevance of this."

"I can help you get to Ravka, but only if you help me by posing as the princess."

You scoffed. "That would never work."

"Why not?"

"I-I was brought up in servants’ quarters, not a palace--I wouldn't even know where to start if I were to pretend to be a princess."

"That's where we come in," he said, nodding to Jesper and Inej. You looked at them, and he kept on, saying, "We can teach you everything you'll need to know."

"This is ridiculous. I'll find my own way," you huffed, moving to stand. Kaz was quick to react, his cane blocking your path to the door.

"Sit down," he ordered. Your glare, piercing as it was, could not rival his. The sight of yours did nothing to intimidate him, whereas--after a long, unblinking moment--his had the required effect. You took a seat.

Kaz pulled a book out of his desk drawer, flipping to a dog-eared page. He turned it around, motioning for you to look. A portrait of the royal family peered up at you, and you stared at it with pursed lips.

"The princess was six years old here, and though the resemblance is not exact, it is there," he explained, pointing at the youngest girl in the image. She stood beside a little boy, hands folded atop his shoulder. You stared between them for a moment. When you looked up at Kaz he swore he saw a glint of sorrow in your eyes. You recovered in a split second, shaking your head.

"No way." You crossed your arms, casting an irate stare at Kaz. "I'm an orphan. I don't have a family. I know for certain that I don't because if I did I would remember them--especially if they were a royal family."

There was a bite to your voice, a bitter sting of something which seemed to pain you. It was hopelessness that marred your words, and yet a lack of hope should have led to despair or exhaustion, not bitterness. Perhaps you hadn't lost hope. Perhaps it was the slim possibility of hope he presented that made you recoil. He could work with that.

Kaz sat down in his chair, levelling with you in the aim of coaxing information out of you. He wasn't trustworthy enough when he stood over his desk. If he wanted you to be vulnerable, he had to show vulnerability, and sitting would do that. He even briefly considered sending Jesper and Inej away but figured you seemed comfortable enough already with them in the room. They weren't as imposing as him, he supposed.

"What do you remember?" He asked, trying to be gentle with his words. You stared at the wall over Kaz's shoulder at a painting of the harbour. He saw Jesper start to fidget where he stood and even Inej looked slightly disinterested, but once you started to speak they listened carefully.

"I was ten or so when I was pulled from the True Sea. A group of fishermen found me floating on a barrel, said I probably jumped from a slaver ship. I was barely breathing, at least that's what they told me. They wrapped me in blankets, gave me food and a name; I still can't remember what my old one was."

You picked a bit of fluff on your pant leg, averting your stare even further. Your words were ghostly, devoid of all feeling like you had rehearsed them your entire life, and yet there was a faint tremor to your voice. How curious.

"When we got to shore they handed me over to their boss, a mercher named Devisser. I worked in his second home on the southern shore until a few weeks ago. Almost all of my memories were made in the kitchens of that place; I don't remember anything before the fishing boat." You met his eyes again, folding your hands in your lap, a neat little pile of rough knuckles and calluses, nothing fit for a princess. "Look, all I want is passage to Os Kervo. I don't even need to be taken all the way there, just as long as you get me to Ravka."

"And we can help you," Kaz insisted. "If you pretend to be the princess, learn the etiquette, the history, you can get to Ravka in mere months."

"I don't want to lie to make my way in the world."

"But if you think about it, It's not really lying," Jesper jumped in then, and Kaz held his breath. If he ruined this for them… "For all any of us know, you could really be the princess. I mean, you look like her, right? Plus, you've got family in Os Kervo, she's got family in Os Kervo."

If it weren't for the softening in your brow–your thoughts rolling through your mind with Jesper's words–Kaz would have put a stop to his friend. But, as it was, you seemed to be coming around to the idea. Jesper was playing on your lack of childhood memory in order to alleviate your guilt about tricking an old woman, and Kaz might have commended him for it if he really wanted to.

"We can show you to the old bat; if she says you aren't her granddaughter then there's no harm, no foul." Jesper smirked at you, "Plus, you'll have made it to Os Kervo where you can look for your real family."

You stared between the three of them, perhaps measuring the degree of sincerity in each of their eyes. In a rare attempt to be like Jesper, Kaz let his expression fall, making his face friendlier–or, at the very least, neutral. When you looked at him he looked back with eager eyes. They ought to do the trick.

"Are you in?" He asked.

"Why not?" You sighed, folding your arms. "If it gets me to Os Kervo…"

Jesper was grinning behind you, Inej had a small smile, and Kaz felt his mouth nearly imitate them. All the anger he had ten minutes ago had melted away. Pekka Rollins was far from his mind. The only thing that mattered now was making this amnesiac orphan into a princess.

..........

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in the upcoming parts of this series please comment on this part or send me an ask. And if you want to request a fic, please feel free to send in an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Taglist: @clockworkballerina @happyhauntt @mysticalfuncollectorus @aislinrayne @littleshadow17 @tooru-bread @katrina0-0