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munsons-hellfire · 2 months

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Lost Part 1 | Cassian

SUMMARY: You were the princess of the Spring Court. But you no longer wanted to follow behind your brother. When Feyre decides to leave, she takes you and Lucien. But with the discovery of your mate and a war on its way you start to feel so lost.

PAIRINGS: Cassian x Tamlin!Sister!Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of abuse, mfw, part 1, I might have missed something but I don't think this really has a lot of warning in this part. Enjoy!

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I ended up turning this into a few parts. There are a few points I want to touch and I don't think it would've been a good idea to do one whole part. If you wish to be added to the tag list for this please let me know down in the comments. The sumary will most likely stay the same I'm not sure yet.

WORD COUNT: 2.0K

It felt like forever. The torture you faced under your bother’s ruleing. It wasn’t protection as he liked to call it. It was a prison, Tamlin had taken over after your father had been killed. You hadn’t been able to shed a tear when it happened, you always assumed that you weren’t meant to be in the Spring Court. When Feyre arrived as a human, you knew she was your chance for an escape.

So when she took the opportune moment to leave, you followed right behind her. Currently you didn’t understand how you had found yourself in this situation. You, Feyre, and Lucien had been on the run from the Spring Court. Little cuts littered your chest, arms, neck, and face. It was so cold, you didn’t know if you could hold on any longer. One of Lucien’s brothers was on top of you, holding you against the ice.

He lifts your head up and slams it down into the ice hard. Stars are dancing around your eyes, as you struggle to keep the blade from going into your throat. Your hand was on the blade, blood dripping onto your neck. A whimper escaped your lips as he stared down at you with a malevolent smile.

“You make such pretty sounds, I wonder what else I could get out of you.” He whispered, his tongue licking up the side of your chin all the way to your pointed ear.

You tried to push the male of you but it was no use. He was far stronger than you, and right now you were too weak. You couldn’t access your power considering you were drained. There were plants all around you even in the Winter Court but that was the last thing on your mind. It also didn’t help that you had never learned to fight. Tamlin had thought it was best you learn how to be a housemaid, how to be a mother, how to take care of your future husband.

Whatever the case may be you learned everything except how to fight and how to use your powers in a situation like this, it was biting you in the ass. Where Tamlin could shape-shift, you could manipulate the plants around you. But your brother didn’t know that, you knew better than to tell him your secret. Just before he could do further damage to you another male flew into him knocking him to the ice.

You turned to your side, a wince leaving your lips as you watched that same male throw a punch into his face. He continued to do so, he hadn’t been able to stop until someone had pulled him off Lucien’s brother. He wasn’t dead, you knew that he was knocked out cold. Your breath was shallow, as the male turned towards you red siphons glistening in the darkness of the night. He was leaning over you, hazel eyes searching you.

He gently picked you up, resting your head to his chest while he cradled the rest of your body. You stared up at him, when he looked back down at you, it snapped. Just before you closed your eyes you felt the gold thread tied around your heart. The mating bond had snapped, you were tied to the male that had just saved you. Now that you were safe you could close your eyes and that’s exactly what you did.

☾

Rhysand stood next to his brother as Madja worked on you. Cassian had his arms crossed over his chest, he was leaning against the door. The male was trying his hardest not to hover over Madja while she worked on his mate. But it was excruciating not to be next to you to hold your hand while she healed you.

“Are you positive?” Rhysand asked again, finally looking over at his brother. Feyre was at the end of the hallway, with Azriel as well. Lucien was also there but Cassian didn’t care much for him, his brother was responsible for the injuries to his mate. He wanted to kill him so they were standing guard in front of Lucien.

“Yes. The Princess of the Spring Court is my mate. I know she felt it too.” Cassian explained again, saying the same thing he’d consistently said when they had arrived back home. Cassian paused, staring briefly at his brother. “Do you really think she has powers?”

“Feyre believed it, and I know what I saw when we were under the mountain. Tamlin didn’t see it but Amarantha did. She protected herself in a cocoon of vines. Whatever she can do, she’s more powerful than she believes herself to be.”

Cassian had heard mentions of the story about how you’d protected yourself to avoid the affliction of pain at the wrath of Amarantha. She loved your older brother, but she hated you. So she’d made your torture just as cruel and wicked as Feyre had gone through. She even locked you up with Feyre, keeping you distanced from the only family you’d ever known. Tamlin. Lucien.

Rhys had told Cass that he had done everything in his power to keep you safe. But when that happened, everything changed. He knew eventually you’d be in his court. Tamlin would destroy you, and it looks like he’d already done just that. Finally Rhys looked back at Cassian again.

“We need to keep her safe.”

“She’s my mate, I won’t let her go back to that bastard of a brother. She’s safe here.” Cassian stated calmly. He caught Rhys looking down the hall to Feyre who gave a nod.

“Then you both need to accept the bond officially, Tamlin will demand her back. And if it isn’t accepted we have no choice but to hand her back over.”

“I’ll discuss it with her when she’s awake. Until then I can’t do much.”

Rhys gave a nod of his head as Madja walked up to them. “She is healed, though she might be out for a few days. Everything was drained, powers included. She needs time to rest.” Madja explained.

“Thank you.” Cassian said, stepping past the healer and walking into the room. He grabbed a chair and set it next to your bed. Then he reached for your hand, holding it in his. Cassian would wait days for you to wake up, as long as you came back to him.

☾

You held onto that thread when you thought you might die. Slowly you blinked open your eyes, a groan escaped your lips. You looked around the room noticing that you weren’t in the Spring Court. Then the memories of what had happened came flashing back into your mind. Panic started to rush through your body, however a hand gave you a comforting squeeze. You turned your head to see the male that had saved you holding onto it.

Just like you remembered he had red siphons on his body. Seven of them to be exact. His black hair was shoulder length, some of it was tied back in a small bun. He looked sexy with his hair that way. A smirk covered his lips, he must have seen what you were thinking was plastered on your face. His golden-brown skin made him look just as handsome. You could see some tattoos peaking through his shirt.

It was a gray shirt and was fitted perfectly to his upper body. You wondered what everything looked like underneath his clothes. Your mind started to drift, thinking of what he’d feel like against you, naked. His pulling of the chair brought you out of your thoughts, you decided to pull yourself up slightly so you could lean against the headboard. You felt the golden string that connected you to him. It was such a pain to not be closer to him. You needed him closer.

“Can you hold me?” Your voice was soft as you asked the question. He stared at you, the confusion was there only for a moment before it switched to understanding. You watched as the male stood from the chair, removed his boats and climbed into your bed. He leaned you forward gently, sitting behind you.

When he settled down into the bed, he pulled you towards his chest. You had noticed that somewhere in between him joining you on the bed he'd taken off his shirt so you could feel his warmth. You rested your head back on his chest, and closed your eyes feeling the bond shine brightly at the touch.

“I’m Cassian.” He whispered in your ear after a few moments of silence.

“Y/N.” You paused, pulling his large hand into yours and entangling your fingers together. You didn’t understand how you’d gotten so lucky to be blessed with a mate provided by the Mother. “So you really are my mate?”

You questioned finally. Maybe this was all a dream, and you’d wake back up in the Spring Court. You didn’t want that though, you’d known you had finally gotten away from your brother's temper and you couldn’t go back to it. Things had gotten worse for you when you’d all returned from under the mountain.

“I am.” Cassian’s words were so comforting as he said them.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get a mate. I… Tam said I’d never experience this. That I’d be marrying off to someone who would never be my mate.” You felt your mate tighten his grip around your waist, his jealousy was evident but you didn’t mind it. Oddly enough it felt comforting, you’d been missing something like that for a long time.

Cassian clenched his jaw at the mere mention of what your brother had in store for you when the time was right. He nudged his nose into your hair. “I can assure you mate, that’ll never happen. I will not allow your brother to take you away from me.”

“But Tam, he’ll try to get me back. I am the princess of the Spring Court after all. He’ll try to call a meeting, to call for a battle against this court.” The worry was evident in your voice as you spoke the words that Rhys had mentioned a few days ago.

“If we accept the mating bond, your brother can not do anything about it. We can accept it then see a Priestess.”

You wanted to reject the idea of accepting the bond so quickly, but you knew that was a lie. Cassian was your mate, and you were his. This had to be done, and it had to happen now. A war loomed over your heads because of your brother. He’d chosen the wrong side and you wouldn’t stand by anymore. Not with what you could do.

“Let’s do it.” You spoke finally. “I need a day, and we need somewhere where it can be just the two of us. When we come back we’ll see a Priestess.”

“I have a place in mind for privacy.” Cassian said, a smirk on his lips. “I can give you a day as well. But after that you’re mine forever, princess.” You only gave a nod and closed your eyes leaning further into Cassian’s chest. It wasn’t until you were finally asleep, breathing evenly that Cassian called to Rhys in his mind.

“How is she?” It was the first question he had asked when the conversation started.

“She’s fine.” Cassian paused, he glanced down at his mate. “She wants to accept the bond.”

“Good. That’s excellent news brother. I think we could all use that right now.”

“We’re gonna head to the cabin for a few days, then we’ll see a Priestess when we come back.”

“Sounds like a plan. When you both come back we’ll discuss what to do in case Tamlin does try to do something. I want to help her learn her powers if she’ll let me.”

“I think she’d be more than willing to learn. I think it would be great to start training with her as well even if we don’t get far into it.”

“Good idea, brother. Both of you get some rest. I’ll let Feyre know she’s doing better.”

With those words Cassian felt his High Lord leave his mind. When Cassian looked back down at you he noticed that you were asleep. The fae lights in the room dimmed down allowing only the moonlight into the room. Cassian held onto you tightly as you slept on top of his form. This wasn’t the best of circumstances, how he found you. But he was so glad that he’d found you when you needed him most.

#cassian #cassian x reader #acotars #cassian x you #reader insert #x reader #tamlin #lucien #feyre #rhysand #mates #azriel

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yanderenightmare · 10 months

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PLEASE PLEASE WRITE MORE ABOUT NAOYA IM BEGGING YOU

JJK ! IMAGINE

Zenin Naoya x darling

TW: yandere, abuse, stockholm syndrome

Noaya isn’t overly lenient with you – nor is he very sweet either. Though you do feel unmistakably treated like his wife, you’re far from feeling treated like an equal – and part of you still feels the same way you felt when you were nothing more than a Zenin housemaid, constantly trod over and looked down on for your lack of luck being born without any cursed energy.

But Noaya does well to make you understand how lucky you are – how blessed you are to have been picked like a flower from the dirt and placed in the pretty vase that is your new home. He does well reminding you of all the things he’s done for you, how grateful you should feel, and how beholden you are to him as the man who freed you from the terrible life of the lowly housemaid you used to be.

But, though he expects certain things of you, Noaya isn’t unreasonable in his demands. He chose you because of your pretty face and feeble constitution – the very demure lady-like timidity that makes you feel so soft beneath him in his bed. And the only thing he expects of you is that you remain that same cute way – a respectful maid to him as your master and a devoted wife to him as your husband.

So as long as you never deny him his rights as your keeper and remain happily faithful to please him with your hands and mouth and other pretty holes, he won’t feel the need to tie your smaller body down and wreak punishment on your soft skin until he’s certain your insolence has thoroughly been purged from your body in the form of blood leaking from popped veins, tears running down your face and apologies streaming from your lips.

But you’re not always so careful, and he’s never been shy of violence, and often finds it suits you – to hang from the ceiling in a reminder that without him, you weren’t too far off from being but another shibari rope-bunny in the brothel. A poor slut for any and all of the Zenin clansmen to toy with.

You can barely get a breath in amongst your sobbing, heaving for air after he cuts you down and wraps you in his kimono. You’re like a wounded animal curling up against his chest, and he can't help but smile at how you tug at him, words of devotion spurring from your lips with a bow of your head.

He makes a few jests about whether you deserve his bed or not, smirking while saying he ought to leave you to sleep on the cold floor – but he never does in the end. He’s too addicted to the way you cling to him, to the feeling of your doughy limbs wrapped around his tough chest.

So instead, he tells you that you’re allowed to hold onto him – scooping you from the floor and placing you in the soft down.

He lies awake, listening to your soft snores – eyeing your face with no expression of his own. Thinking about how if anyone ever laid a hand on you, it’d be the last day they had hands – how he’d make them wear their manhood around their neck on a noose before stringing them up to choke.

He’s a jealous man and doesn’t take it lightly when people touch the things that belong to him. It’s the main reason he’s so hard on you. To make sure you never ever go kneeling or bowing or spreading your legs for anyone but him.

tip-jar: Kofi

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk naoya #yandere naoya #naoya zenin #naoya x reader #yandere zenin naoya #naoya smut #yandere naoya zenin #yandere zenin #jjk x y/n #yander naoya zenin #zenin naoya

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fayes-fics · 5 months

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A Welcome Intrusion

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A drunken Bridgerton in the wrong room could be the start of something...

Warnings: none really... flirtatious drunken fluff, meet-cute.

Word Count: 1.3k

Authors Note: This idea has been lingering in my "wtf is this" pile of scenes I sometimes scribble down idly. I decided to add a little polish and make it a little one-shot, as I could not see it having a natural home in my other WIPs. I also have vague plans to do the same scene setup with Anthony as a character study of how their reactions would differ. Unbetaed. I hope you enjoy <3

You are sleeping fitfully - a stifling summer night makes even a thin cotton sheet too much to bear on your overheated skin - when your bedroom is rudely invaded.

In your half-awake, bleary state, you are not even certain someone is in the room at first, your back being turned to the door. Indeed, it’s only when the mattress dips that you truly startle. You freeze, facing away, completely uncertain what to do with a stranger perched on the edge of your bed.

Behind you, you hear someone undressing haphazardly, Clothing hitting the rug in soft whumps. Bile rises in your throat when the effort-filled grunt while doing so is decidedly male.

There is a triumphant noise, and then a body flops back onto the mattress with a self-satisfied chuckle. After a few beats, all is still, and you steel yourself to speak.

“Kind sir,” you murmur, not daring to move, clinging to the far side, “please leave my room.”

There is a decidedly undignified squeal of shock, more akin to a young girl, him flipping over onto all fours next to you, the movement causing you to turn over in equal surprise.

You both stare at each other as if burned; you clutch the bedding high around your neck as he pants lightly, recovering from the apparent scare you gave him, his breath carrying the rich aroma of expensive brandy. In the shaft of moonlight leaking through the curtains, you see the curve of his cheekbone, the sharp line of his jaw. Whoever he is, he is very pretty. Very drunk, yes. But very pretty, too.

“What in god’s name are you doing in my bed?” he demands, sounding alarmed but mildly slurred with intoxication.

“You are in my bed!” you squeak back, knuckles tightening around the sheet you hold, even as your traitorous eyes roam lower, entirely without meaning to. A slice of lithe, freckled chest muscle flexing over ribs as he draws heavy breaths makes something deep inside you quake. You quickly dart your eyes back up to his face.

“I think not! This has been my bedroom since I was three years old!” he attests with the blithe certainty alcohol provides.

Oh, so he must be a Bridgerton. That is perhaps an easy guess, seeing as you are staying at Aubrey Hall ahead of tomorrow’s midsummer Hearts and Flowers Ball.

“I don’t think they would assign a family bedroom to a guest,” you answer with a flare of sass.

“Yes, I quite agree. That’s why you should not be here,” he huffs indignantly.

“I was shown here by the head housemaid. That is my trunk there, the footmen brought in,” you point out, gesturing across the room.

He seems to ignore your argument but suddenly swings around almost violently, looking at the room.

“I don’t have that on my wall,” he frowns at a sizeable floral painting over a dresser.

“Maybe because this isn’t actually your bedroom?” you volley back with uncharacteristic brashness, likely a reaction to his presence affecting you the longer he remains.

He whips back and narrows his eyes at you. “Did Anthony put you up to this? Or Colin? Change my room around and hide you in my bed to fool me? Are you some doxy?”

“How dare you, sir!!” you blanche, horrified at his coarse language and that he could think you are any sort of woman of such low morals.

“My sincerest apologies,” he immediately looks thoroughly contrite. “You do appear far too well-bred to be such. But it still does not explain your presence in my room.”

“No, it does not,” you answer through gritted teeth, annoyance flaring at his continued erroneous insistence. “And that is because this is not your room…. dunderhead!”

The ferocity with which you spit the last word has his face morphing into one of befuddled incredulity, a single eyebrow arching.

“Sorry, that was impertinent of me,” you flush, dropping your gaze ashamed.

No!” he rushes out, “I… I liked it,” the confession apparently takes him by surprise as much as it does you, judging by his confused frown at his own words.

But then he seems to shrug and nod decisively as if agreeing with himself before he looks back to you, shifting so the light colour of his eyes catches the moonbeam.

“Who are you?” he inquires, cocking his head to the side.

“Miss y/l/n,” you respond.

“I’m Benedict…”

“...BrIdgerton,” you finish for him. “I assume, based on the fact you have a childhood bedroom here.”

He laughs; a rich, resonant sound that makes your insides jolt.

“Indeed,” he smiles, the ivory of his teeth catching the light. Again, you are drawn to how pretty he seems to be. “I am… quite intoxicated, Miss y/l/n”, he confesses, clutching a hand to his chest as if holding a doffed cap, “‘tis entirely possible I am indeed not in the correct bedroom.”

“I would venture that to be the correct assessment,” you offer with a meek smile.

“I sincerely apologise, yet again,” his face contrite as he shuffles into a kneeling position, his palms resting upturned on his thighs as if seeking forgiveness.

The problem is all your eyes can do is slide down his bare torso, lingering in places they shouldn’t—like the swell of his pectorals, the dip of his waist, and the pull of material at the junction of his thighs just a few inches above where his palms rest….

“I suppose it is only fair I let you look, seeing as I so rudely interrupted your sleep,” he comments dryly.

Your eyes jerk back to his face, met with a pointedly raised eyebrow and a knowing crooked smirk. You feel your cheeks aflame and bow your head, biting your lip, knowing you have been thoroughly caught in your ogling.

“I… I apologise, sir,” you mumble quietly, “I… I have not seen a man without a shirt before…” you admit in a whisper.

“And do you like what you see?” he teases, tone etched with beguiling menace, his mouth twisted into an intrigued pout as you dare to raise your gaze again.

“I… I…,” you falter, knowing that admitting such would be scandalous.

“Your secret is safe with me, Miss y/l/n,” he winks, “and I hope I am forgiven.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” you bustle out, tugging the bedding high under your chin again, wanting desperately to conceal the flush you know is creeping over your skin with every second spent in his half-naked presence.

“I suppose I should take my leave,” he sighs, his cadence reluctant, perhaps hoping you will dispute his assessment.

“That would be… the most prudent course of action,” you nod even though your fingertips itch to grab his hand and ask him to stay for reasons you don’t entirely understand.

He slides off the bed and scoops up his discarded shirt, a moderately unsteady gait as he tugs it back onto his body.

“Goodnight, Miss y/l/n,” he bows with a touch of comedic chivalry before he takes his leave. You cannot help but stare at his shapely rear as he walks towards the door.

“Goodnight, Mr Bridgerton,” you call softly, and before you can stop yourself, more words are spilling from your lips, something about this man making you daring. “I do so hope you will offer me a dance at the ball tomorrow to make amends for this intrusion.”

Even you are astounded by your words. Benedict pauses, his hand frozen on the door handle as he turns back around slowly, his mien surprised.

“It would be my pleasure,” he rumbles after a pause, a tingle running through your being.

“Until tomorrow, Mr Bridgerton,” you offer, heart pounding.

“Until tomorrow indeed, Miss y/l/n,” the velvet of his voice tickling your skin long after the door snicks closed behind him.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaa @urfavnoirette

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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bowtiepastabitch · 6 months

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Historical Analysis: class and injustice in 'The Ressurrectionists' minisode

Alternate title: why we're tempted to be upset with Aziraphale and why that's only halfway fair

Okay so first off huge thanks to @makewayforbigcrossducks for asking the question (and follow-up questions lol) that brought me to put these thoughts all together into a little history nerd ramble. That question being, Why is Aziraphale so clueless? Obviously, from a plot perspective, we know we need to learn some lessons about human moral dilemmas and injustices. But from a character perspective? A lot of this minisode is about Aziraphale being forced to confront the flaws of heavenly logic. This whole idea that "poverty is ineffable" basically boils down to 'yeah some people are poor, but their souls can be saved just as if not more easily that way, so it's not our problem and they probably deserve it anyway for not working hard enough,' a perspective that persists in many modern religious circles. Aziraphale isn't looking at the human factor here, he's pretty much purely concerned about the dichotomy of good and wicked human behavior and the spiritual consequences thereof, because that's what he's been told to believe. His whole goal is to "show her the error of her ways." He believes, quite wholeheartedly, that he's helping her in the long run.

"the lower you start, the more opportunities you have"

So here's what we're asking ourselves: Why did it take him so bloody long to realize how stupid that is? Sure, he's willing to excuse all kinds of things in the name of ineffability, but if someone in the year of our lord 2023 told me he was just now realizing that homelessness was bad after experiencing the past two centuries, I'd be resisting the urge to get violent even if he WAS played by Michael Sheen.

Historical context: a new type of poverty

Prior to the 19th century (1800s), poverty was a very different animal from what we deal with now. The lowest classes went through a dynamic change leading up to the industrial revolution, with proto-industrialization already moving people into more manufacture-focused tasks and rapid urbanization as a result of increasingly unlivable conditions for rural peasantry. The enclosure of common lands and tennancies by wealthy landowners for the more profitable sheep raising displaced lots of families, and in combination with poor harvests and rising rents, many people were driven to cities to seek out new ways of eeking out a living.

Before this, your ability to eat largely would have depended on the harvest in your local area. This can, for our purposes, be read as: you're really only a miracle away from being able to survive the winter. Juxtapose this, then, with the relatively new conundrum of an unhoused urban poor population. Now if you want to eat, you need money itself, no exceptions, unless you want to steal food. Charity at the time was often just as much harm as good, nearly always tied deeply up in religious attitudes and a stronger desire to proselytize than improve quality of lie. As a young woman, finding work in a city is going to be incredibly difficult, especially if you're not clean and proper enough to present as a housemaid or other service laborer. As such, Elspeth turns to body snatching to try to make a better life for herself and Wee Morag. She's out of options and she knows it.

You know who doesn't know that? Aziraphale.

The rise of capitalism

The biggest piece of the puzzle which Aziraphale is missing here is that he hasn't quite caught onto the concept of capitalism yet. To him, human professions are just silly little tasks, and she should be able to support herself if she just tried. Bookselling, weaving, farming, these are all just things humans do, in his mind. He suggests these things as options because it hasn't occurred to him yet that Elspeth is doing this out of desperation, but he also just doesn't grasp the concept of capital. Crowley does, he thinks it's hilarious, but Aziraphale is just confused as to why these occupations aren't genuine options. Farming in particular, as briefly touched on above, was formerly carried out largely on common land, tennancies, or on family plots, and land-as-capital is an emerging concept in this period of time (previously, landowners acted more like local lords than modern landlords). Aziraphale just isn't picking up on the fact that money itself is the root issue.

Even when he realizes that he fucked up by soup-ifying the corpse, he doesn't offer to give them money but rather to help dig up another body. He still isn't processing the systemic issues at play (poverty) merely what's been immediately presented to him (corpses), and this is, from my perspective, half a result of his tunnel-vision on morality and half of his inability to process this new mode of human suffering.

Half a conclusion and other thoughts

So we bring ourselves back around to the question of Aziraphale's cluelessness. Aziraphale is, as an individual, consistently behind on the times. He likes doing things a certain way and rarely changes his methodology unless someone forces his hand. Even with the best intentions, his ability to help in this minisode is hindered by two points: 1)his continued adherance to heavenly dogma 2)his inability to process the changing nature of human society. His strongest desire at any point is to ensure that good is carried out, an objective good as defined by heavenly values, and while I think it's one of his biggest character hangups, I also can't totally blame him for clinging to the only identity given to him or for worrying about something that is, as an ethereal being, a very real concern. Unfortunately, he also lacks an understanding of the actual human needs that present themselves. Where Elspeth knows that what she needs is money, Aziraphale doesn't seem to process that money is the only solution to the immediate problem. This is in part probably because a century prior the needs of the poor were much simpler, and thus miraculous assistance would never have interfered with 'the virtues of poverty'. (You can make someone's crops grow, and they'll eat well, but giving someone money actually changes their economic status.) Thus, his actions in this episode illustrate the intersection of heavenly guidelines with a weak understanding of modern structures.

This especially makes sense with his response to being told to give her money. Our angel is many things, but I would never peg him as having any attachment to his money. He's not hesitant because he doesn't want to part with it, he's hesitant because he's still scared it's the wrong thing to do in this scenario. He really is trying to be good and helpful. So yes, we're justifiably pretty miffed to see him so blatantly unaware and damaging. He definitely holds a lot of responsibility for the genuine tragedy of this minisode, and I think Crowley pointing out that it's 'different when you knew them' is an extremely important moment for Aziraphale's relationship with humanity. Up until now, he's done a pretty good job insulating himself from the capacity of humans for nastiness, his seeming naivity at the Bastille being case in point.

In the end, I think Aziraphale's role in this minisode is incredibly complex, especially within its historical context. He's obstinate and clueless but also deeply concerned with spiritual wellbeing (which is, to Aziraphale, simply wellbeing) and doing the right thing to be helpful. While it's easy to allow tiny Crowley (my beloved) to eclipse the tragic nature and moral complexity of this minisode, I think in the end it's just as important to long-term character development as 'A Companion to Owls'. We saw him make the right choice with Job's children, and now we see him make the wrong choice. And that's a thing people do sometimes, a thing humans do.

~~~

also tagging @ineffabildaddy, @kimberellaroo, and @raining-stars-somewhere-else whose comments on the original post were invaluable in helping me organize my thoughts and feelings about this topic. They also provided great insight that, in my opinion, is worth going and reading for yourself, even if it didn't factor into my final analysis/judgement.

If I missed anything or you have additional thoughts, please please share!!! <3

#this was a monster of a post to write #in no small part because I was relying more on my own historical knowledge than usual so I had to double check myself constantly #but I had a lot of fun and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did #good omens #good omens 2 #neil gaiman #good omens analysis #good omens meta #the resurrectionists #good omens season 2 #good omens minisode #nerd shit #ineffable husbands #aziraphale good omens

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dark-fics-4-you · 1 year

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Rafe Cameron Masterlist

* denotes dubcon/noncon

Series

Number One Fan* - You had always been close with your older step-brother, but are his affections for you more than familial?

Ch - One Two Three Four

not main chapters

stepbro!Rafe is almost caught hard around reader blurb

A Helping Hand - stepbro!Rafe is tall

No Way Out* - After you threaten to call the cops on your boyfriend, Rafe reminds you who holds all the cards in your relationship

Ch- One Two

Ex-Friends with Benefits* - After Rafe crosses a major boundary, you realize that it’s time to end this fling with your friend, but, as you are soon to find out, Rafe never gives up on anything he wants without a fight.

Ch- One Two Three

Nervous* - You never understood why your best friend's brother seemed to hate you until one night changed everything

Ch- One Two

Attention Whore* -After making you leave a party for wearing a revealing outfit, your boyfriend teaches you a lesson you’ll never forget.

Ch- One Two

Desperate Measures* - After you break up with Rafe, he realizes how far he would go to get you back, and what boundaries he would cross to keep you.

Ch- One Two Three

One Shots

Love Plus One * - After you get pregnant with your boyfriend of 3 years, you start to notice him becoming much more controlling of you

Silent Treatment * - Your older step brother can’t handle being ignored

How a Girlfriend is Supposed to Act * - After Rafe catches you texting your friend and telling them that you wants to break up with him, he decides to remind you of your place.

Golden Boy * - Rafe thinks you’re flirting with men at his father’s work event and takes his revenge by fucking you there.

My Girl *- Your childhood friend doesn't like that you've been hooking up with his best friend.

Late Night Run * - You catch Rafe Cameron's eye after he sees you jogging through his neighborhood.

Jealous * - Rafe can't stand that you're dating JJ Maybank.

Another Mess to Clean Up * - Rafe likes the new housemaid a bit too much.

Sleepover (somno)* - A sleepover at the Cameron's house goes wrong when you unexpectedly wake up in Rafe's room.

Silly Girl * - After accidentally making your best friend jealous, you learn what Rafe's true feelings toward you are.

Drabbles

StepBro!Rafe takes Reader’s virginity *

Just This Once * - Fed up with you being the perfect daughter in the eyes of Ward and Rose, Rafe decides to take everything from you and ruin your status as the golden child

Equal Exchange * - After accepting help from a stranger on a back road in the dead of night, you realize he expects you to pay him back, one way or another

Lie There and Look Pretty * - virgin!Reader wakes up to stepbro!Rafe inside of her

Daddy's Girl - Rafe takes submissive!Reader's virginity

Best Friend's Brother * - When you get trapped alone in your tormentor's room, you learn that even being Sarah Cameron's best friend won't save you from Rafe.

Heartless * - After a heated argument with your boyfriend gets physical, you learn what his idea of an apology is.

The Fastest Way to Make Up After an Argument * - After pissing off your boyfriend, Rafe finds a way to ensure you can never walk away from him.

#rafe cameron #outer banks #obx #dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron noncon #rafe cameron dubcon #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfic

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marzipanandminutiae · 3 months

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Area Woman Wearing Custom "Pretty Housemaid" Corset; Comfiness Levels Off The Charts

#historical costuming #historical fashion #victorian #corset #(the one I made)#(I have it on to alter an antique corset-cover someone gave me #so I don't have to change all over again to check the fit when I'm done)#(waste no corset-cover; want no corset-cover)#truly the t-shirt of corsets

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bettysupremacy · 2 months

Note

What do you think of Mike with a low key rich babysitter reader, and she's like so nice so she pays his bills cause she knows he's struggling and buys him food?

I think that’s a gorgeous idea & I’m sorry I posted it 5 months later 🎀

You dance around his living room, picking up crayons and stuffed animals. Typical night for you. There’s a bottle of milk stuffed under your arm, slowly leaking onto the carpet before you notice it.

“Shit,” you hush, rearranging your grip.

You hadn’t spoken to Mike since last night when he’d dropped off $20, then kissed you and fled feeling like an idiot when you’d stood there shocked. But you’d come over today without calling and he couldn’t have been more grateful. Selfishly, he’d been concerned about finding a babysitter as lenient about pay as you.

“Y/n.”

“Shit,” You flinch, dropping the teddy bear known as Freddy, and the milk.

“I pay for a babysitter, not a housemaid.”

He doesn’t even really pay for you. ‘Cept for $20 when he can afford it. You don’t want him to either. He needs a babysitter, you need to get out of the house, it’s a good deal.

“Sorry.” You’re not, and he knows you’re not, but he lets it slide.

“I don’t need charity.” He drops his keys onto the table and stalks into the kitchen. “don’t need it.”

“You’re not charity.” You mumble, digging the toe of your shoe into the carpet embarrassed.

He opens the fridge loudly, pausing, the full fridge foreign to him. You’re done for. He’d told you no more shopping. No more pitying him, no more paying his light bill, no more grocery shopping. “Y/n?”

“Yes, Mike?” You try to sound chipper.

“What did I just say?”

“You pay for a babysitter not a maid?”

“After that.”

“Um,” you stall, “I’m not really sure, I think I hear Abby crying, maybe I should—“

“I said no charity,” he sighs, closing the door to look back at you. “I don’t need charity.”

“It’s really not charity.” You stumble out, tripping to get off your knees. “I was at the store with Abby earlier cause I was hungry and—“

“Y/n.”

“Yes?”

“Just not again.”

You sigh. “Kay.”

The silence is almost unbearable. “Hey, um,” he starts “about last night..”

“It’s okay.” You almost rush out. Embarrassed, you scratch your neck. “I mean, it was okay with me.”

“Oh,” he doesn’t know where to start.

“Yeah,” you nod, dusting off your jeans. “so if you don’t need me I’ll be out of your way.”

“Wait!” He panics.

You look back, hope gleaming in your pretty eyes. “Yes?”

“It was okay with you?”

“Well,” you nod slowly, unable to look him in the eyes. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, turning his head away. “Yeah, you’d let me do it again?”

“Yeah I’m hoping you’ll do it again.”

He walks over, socked feet making noise against his cheap carpet. Abby’s baby monitor hums softly next you to and vaguely you wonder if you should check on her. Mike doesn’t seem to mind. He grabs your wrist, thumb pushing into your pulse.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “for bothering you.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “You don’t bother me.”

He sighs. “With the bills and the money.”

“Oh,” you whisper. “I don’t mind.”

“I know,” his lips turn up a little. “you’re kind. Too kind probably, and you can spend your money on whatever you like, but don’t splurge on me.”

“It’s not splurging,” you reassure. “I’m helping a friend.”

He grimaces, closing his eyes and sighing through his nose. You’re unsure which part of your sentence cause this reaction. Helping or friend.

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks softly, looking up at you.

You nod, grabbing his own wrist, pulling him closer. He shakes his head at your movement.

“Words.”

It’s funny, his actions reminds you of how you are with Abby. “Can I help you with this?” And “Use your words please.”

“Yes,” you breathe out. “yeah, please.”

He nods, dipping down to kiss you slowly. Yeah, his lips are a little chapped, but it’s soft, like he’s scared of breaking you. He pulls you in closer, hand sliding over to the dip in your back. You wrap your arms around him, scrunching his tee shirt in your warm fists.

He pulls back, panting. “No more charity, okay?”

#mike schmidt headcanons #mike schmidt x y/n #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fanfic #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x fem!reader #mike schmidt drabble #mike

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ystrike1 · 6 months

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Muse on Fame - By Soojin (9/10)

I'd say this one is pretty controversial. The yandere is a real snake, who doesn't value himself. He does awful things to give his muse a successful acting career. It all happens behind closed doors, where she can't see what he's doing. If you don't like him after *that* plot twist I don't blame you, but he is devoted. She would never be able to succeed without him. It's the harsh truth.

Myeong is a maid. She was a promising actress at the age of twenty, but now she's almost thirty. Most of her old friends got famous, so it hurts every day. She was basically the only actress in her tight group that failed. Her ex is famous. Her "friend" (rival) is famous. Her boyfriend still works as a director, and it's putting a real strain on their relationship.

Hyeonjae is not a bad boyfriend. He didn’t break up with Myeong when her acting career fizzled out. He's not perfect though. He still expects her to support his dream....while she works as a maid cleaning toilets. The optics are pretty bad, but their relationship is presented very realistically. Hyeonjae isn't a successful director yet, and Myeong dedicated her youth to acting. So, she can't get an office job. On top of that her family refuses to help her. They never approved of her career choice, and after it failed she became the black sheep of the family. Her father expects her to give up and get married, while she still has her gorgeous looks.

Myeong kind of lives life in a daze. Her looks don't stand out very much anymore. She walks everywhere. She can't afford salon care to polish her looks for auditions that don't come anyway, and her mental health is going down. Her friend and rival, Yena, is extremely successful.

Trigger warning Yena used her body to get where she is, and she used her investor boyfriends to kick Myeong out of the industry.

This is not revealed until later.

Yena is also completely obsessed with Myeong. How obsessed? Well, Hyeonjae gets his big film debut. His big break. His only chance. Yena swoops in to take the main character role. Then she starts showing up at Hyeonjae's apartment. Hyeonjae and Myeong live together. It's cruel. She has to watch Hyeonjae and Yena talk about their amazing movie together constantly. Hyeonjae lets Yena do whatever she wants, because he's afraid. He will lose his chance at fame if Yena abandons the project. Yena THINKS she's in love with Hyeonjae, but she just wants what Myeong has. Myeong is the typical talented, rich, gorgeous girl. She ran away from her wealthy family because of her love for acting and Hyeonjae.....but she was born blessed. Yena hates and envies that more than anything, which is why she quietly ruined Myeong's reputation a decade ago.

《Male sexual assault is a serious issue》

Yena absolutely 100% is a predator that uses her power to coerce Hyeonjae into a relationship. If Yena was not a famous actress he wouldn't even associate with her, because he finds her creepy.

But.

She does kiss him.

Myeong sees, and she breaks up with an inconsolable and broken Hyeonjae. Their lifestyles just no longer match. Hyeonjae is surrounded by famous actresses, and Myeong is a depressed housemaid who didn’t make it. Staying with him would destroy her, so she leaves.

She leaves to get revenge, and the career she has always wanted. Gorgeous women like Myeong have plenty of admirers. A famous photographer named Enmil ended his own life. Photos of her were found in his house. She didn’t know Enmil, but the dead man saw her as his most precious muse. His mansion contained a secret vault room full of pictures of her.

Myeong lies.

It's not creepy.

Enmil wasn't a stalker.

She consented.

They were friends.

She lies to get interviews, and some small TV roles. She claws her way back to fame, far away from her pathetic life as a maid in Hyeonjae's small apartment.

Her manager, Eun, helps her do this. He has complete faith in her. He knows she's more special than anyone else. He will make her famous. He wants to see her face everywhere. He wants her to use him. He'll be her driver. Her lover. Her bank account. Her slave. He will do absolutely everything in his power to get her into the top of the vicious acting industry.

Enmil was his friend.

No, he isn't secretly Eunmil in disguise.

His yandere reveal is so much messier.

He has a tattoo of her name on his neck. Eun was depressed, just like Enmil. He tried to end his own life, but a miracle happened. The ceiling cracked. The chandelier that was about to take his life fell. Pictures of a beautiful woman rained down upon him. When he saw her happy face he felt too insignificant to die. He decided to serve the woman who radiated happiness that day.

He doesn't care if she's sad and alone now.

He will make her happy.

Myeong begins to shine, because she is incredibly talented. She struggles with the past. With the years she lost because of Yena. When she finds out about Yena's obsession it almost breaks her. Yena is too strong. Too famous. She has too many wealthy donors.....but then she channels that agony into an amazing performance.

She gets a role where Hyeonjae is the director. She uses that pain too, and she embraces becoming a broken woman for the camera.

Even Yena can't stop her.

Myeong left her cushy life as a rich girl behind, because of her love for acting. Her resolve is unstoppable now that Hyeonjae isn't holding her back.

Eun loves to watch her.

He becomes her lover to comfort her. To be her rock. To push her forward. To reassure her. He tells her to use him. He doesn't value himself. He is only alive because of her. He is an empty shell. He barely shows emotion. His looks get him attention too, but he's not like Myeong. He doesn't want fame. He wants to watch his only muse. His family has cash too, but he was even more depressed than Myeong. Depressed enough to end it all.

He will do anything for her.

He's kinda sorta in a relationship with his boss. The woman who originally hired Myeong when she broke into the acting scene again. I think you can see where this is going. Eun used this poor woman to kickstart Myeong's acting career. She seems emotionally attached to him, and it seems like they've been "together" for a long time.

That's what it takes to get a twenty nine year old washed up actress back into the business.

Myeong is not innocent, but she's not a demon like Yena or Eun. She's afraid of Yena, and after she finds out the whole truth she might lash out at Eun. She's a talented actress, but she's sheltered. That's her biggest character flaw. Talent isn't enough. Yena had to sell her body. Eun had to seduce a talent executive. That's how brutal the industry is.

I don't know if Myeong will survive.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #Muse on Fame

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lambtotheslaughterr · 9 days

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bitch!

A Rafe Cameron Oneshot

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 5.1k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

OONA'S MASTERLIST

request for anon

requests are currently CLOSED

all AI images are created from prompts i wrote. they are not real images.

Summary: Reader has been a no-good, money-hungry mean girl her whole life, but after moving to the city & being humbled by the impracticality of it all, she runs into an old face who is willing to provide her what she longs for most... that is if she is willing to give herself first.

Living in the city wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. You were eager to move away from your hometown & embark on your first solo adventure. It wasn’t like there was really anything keeping you anyway. Your relationship with your parents was tumultuous, having been practically raised by the housemaid your whole life. And you had no true friends that would shed a tear about you leaving.

At one point in your high school career, you thought the world was in your hands, but it wasn’t until graduating & realizing that you had no idea what you even wanted to do with your life that your world shrunk. You had been a mean girl in school, the stereotypical kind who only had people that surrounded you because of your money & looks. To you, that was everything. But when your senior year drew to a close, & your ‘friends’ began to stray, excited about their own college dreams & growing up & being independent, you learned quite harshly that your bad attitude only landed you in more loneliness.

Now, you weren’t ignorant enough to believe that it wasn’t well-deserved, after all, you were quite the bully, but it still came as a surprise to you that once summer began you couldn’t keep your posse under thumb. They were becoming their own people.

So, you thought to yourself that you’d show them. Show them that you could do better, be better, & not in the means of bettering your character, but your livelihood. You thought moving to a big city, like most small town teens dreamed about, would be the first step in outshining your former classmates. Your parents cared little about what you wanted to do, so it was easy enough to find an apartment in the city to your tastes. But once you were there, you had no clue what to do next.

You tried applying to the local universities, wanting to earn yourself a distinguished degree that would certainly secure you a lavish future. But your applications were all denied. Apparently, not everything you wanted would drop into your lap. You were a straight B student in high school with no electives or real skills to show that you were worth a submission to any university, at least the ones with a reputation they cared to keep. And applying for scholarships proved much the same, your parents making way too much to qualify you for any admittance.

So, with getting an education out of the question, even for a spoiled, snobby rich girl like yourself, you thought ‘what would be even greater than a degree’. Your answer? Fame.

But in a city full of dreamers, the competition was fierce. You took some acting classes, thinking you, of course, would be a shoe in for the lifestyle, but you weren’t the only entitled pretty girl who had what it took to knock people out of your way. Any potential friends you could have made was quickly tarnished by the equally devious young women you competed against for small roles in television or film, all of you vying for your big break. After a couple months of many auditions with no call-backs & your competition spreading nasty rumors about you throughout the tough industry, you surprised even yourself when you called it quits.

So the road to fame wasn’t your road to take. So what? You were never one to really give up on the luxurious plans you dreamt for yourself. But to get there, you had to resort to the path your mother once took that eventually landed her your wealthy father. You became a sugar baby.

It was fun at first, ego-filling even—as if you really needed any more of that—but soon enough the novelty of it wore off. Yes, the men were more than happy to give you money & materialistic gifts as long as you were their date for a night or two, but it was you who failed to fill satisfied. After a year of being the sugar baby for a handful of men, you decided that you wanted a real relationship, even if it was just for the money & lavish lifestyle. But you refused to entertain those thoughts with any of the handy, elder men you babied for.

What you wanted next was a wealthy young man with the world in his hands, much like how you held it when you were younger. But how to put yourself in their target path was a difficult one. You began with the dating apps, but those only proved to be catfishes or men who invested their money, not filled their wallets with it. Then you tried the up-scale clubs on the finer side of town where you lived. However, the men you met there, while young & rich & handsome, were proud bachelor’s & couldn’t be tied down. Every path you took to upkeep your lifestyle continued to prove to be a dead end.

It wasn’t that your parents weren’t giving you an allowance, they were. A check came every month but it was only enough to really cover your rent, which was rather expensive. Everything else was up to you. So after a year of living in the city & you failed to get into school, failed to kick start a career in the entertainment industry, & failed to get a man to support your tastes, you swallowed your pride & got a job.

Fortunately it was a nice job, meaning the reputation & vibe of the place would have been a place even you would visit. The position you secured was as a server. It was for a rooftop restaurant & bar that had regular clientele, a majority of them cut from the same cloth as you. In your first week, you then realized that you had been granted an opportunity. As long as you worked hard & pulled your weight in the fast-paced position, you were sure your pocket-full prince charming would come & whisk you away.

Of course, you weren’t ignorant to what that made you out to be. After all, there was a special term for women similar to you: gold digger. But gold digger’s came from nothing. You didn’t. You just didn’t want it to be from your parents any longer.

It was a slow night at your work, a Sunday night to be exact. It was 9:30 at night & the restaurant would close at 10. You were in the middle of polishing some silverware at a booth in the corner when one of the bartender’s whistled at you, stealing your attention.

You made a face, clearly annoyed that they whistled instead of walked over, but they nodded their head in the direction of a table near the windows. A single man sat by himself, waiting to be waited on.

“Seriously?” You mumbled under your breath, knowing the restaurant closed in 30 minutes. If he ordered food, the kitchen was going to be pissed off & it was going to be closed in 30 minutes. If he ordered food, the kitchen was going to be pissed off & it was going to be you they took it out on.

Swallowing your annoyance, you stood up, rubbing out the wrinkles of your black waist-apron & black blouse before crossing the restaurant to the lone man.

As you grew closer, he glanced up, having sensed your approach, but you very subtly paused in your step, recognizing those eyes & that face.

Great. You reeled internally. This was going to be humiliating.

“Good evening,” You greeted, faking your sweetest smile, “can I get you started with a glass of wine? I recommend—”

“A beer would be fine.” He smirked up at you, “Whatever’s on top.”

You pressed your lips together, suppressing your irritation, “Right away.”

Spinning on your heel, you went up to the bar to lean over the fine wood & place your order with the bartender. As the bartender began to fill a glass, he spoke to you over his shoulder, “You alright?”

Despite working there for some time, you never made any friends among your coworkers. You were known as ‘that girl’, or in more obvious terms ‘that bitch’.

“Yes.” You replied tersely, not wanting to entertain a conversation when you were already on edge.

The bartender placed a 20 oz beer on the bar near your hand, “Just askin’. You looked like you were dreading talking to the guy.”

“Just someone I used to know.” You muttered, a lilt on the edge of your tone.

“Yeah? How’s that?”

Snatching the beer, you gave your coworker a sneer of a smile, “None of your business.”

Walking away with the beer, you were sure to flick your hair over your shoulder.

It was true, though. The man who sat waiting for his beer was someone you used to know. His name was Rafe Cameron, & he was from your hometown. If you were the queen of the hallways in your high school, Rafe Cameron was king. You two weren’t exactly friends, or even close for that matter, but you ran the same circle & attended the same parties & did plenty of coke together. But you knew very little about him otherwise.

“Your beer.” You announced, placing it on the table before him, “Have you decided on what you want to eat?”

“Sirloin. 8oz. Medium-rare.” He replied coolly & cockily, a trademark of his he you knew well.

Yup, the cooks were gonna eat you alive.

“Alrighty.” Turning away from him, you crossed to the far end of the bar where your POS system was & punched in the order. As you heard the ticket machine in the kitchen behind the bar chitter out, you also didn’t miss the groans of the cooks.

“Fucking kidding me?” A voice sounded. You rolled your eyes. It’s not like it was your fault you had to do your job.

Returning back to Rafe’s table, you placed down a steak knife before telling him his food would be out in ten minutes. But just as you were about to depart to go back to polishing silverware, Rafe’s voice halted you.

“So, this is what you’re doing now, huh?” He commented, that familiar judgmental drawl in his voice.

You paused to turn & face him, “Yup. Living the life.”

Of course, you couldn’t show your own dissatisfaction, having a spine to up-keep in the face of old acquaintances, but you knew as well as Rafe did that people like the two of you could always see through other’s bullshit.

“I gotta say, I’m surprised. Never expected _____ _____, of all people, to wait on others. It’s not in our blood. But I guess I forget about where your mom comes from.”

The insult was apparent. You narrowed your eyes, “And you’re still an asshole that gets a hard on from bullying others. Shocker.”

Rafe smirked at that, leaning forward so his elbows were on the table as he peered up at you, “Wasn’t so long ago you were bullying them alongside me.”

“Things change.” You lied through your teeth.

“I doubt that.”

Rolling your eyes, completely done with the conversation & dick measuring contest, you marched away. As you continued polishing the silverware, you felt Rafe’s eyes on you from across the restaurant. You made it apparent that you would not be indulging in a stare-off as you shifted your head so your hair blocked him in your peripheral. But after a few minutes, you heard the familiar dinging of a bell emanating from the kitchen, alerting you to food being ready.

Still ignoring Rafe’s trailing of you, you marched to the kitchen window behind the bar & began gathering the plate & side. The head cook glared at you through the gap in the wall, “Mind not accepting more orders? We’re nearly finished back here.”

You puckered your lower lip, feigning sympathy, “No promises, customer looks hungry so I think I’ll drop a dessert menu at his table.”

You grinned wryly to yourself as you walked away, the bitching & insults of the cooks fading behind you.

Back at Rafe’s table, you avoided his eyes as you set his meal down, “Enjoy your meal.”

“When are you off?” His question took you by surprise. You were quick to hide your shock with a firm response, “When I feel like it.”

You were about to walk away but a hand reached out & snagged your wrist, “Want to get a drink later?”

Ripping your arm from his grip, you sneered down at him, “I’d rather drink bleach.”

Walking away from him, you gathered the polished silverware from your booth in the corner & took them to the kitchen. The cooks grumbled & glared as you entered the back but you ignored them. Your shift ended at 10 & the clock on the wall read 9:48. It wouldn’t be the first time you clocked-out early, & you knew you’d get another talk to about doing so, but you didn’t care. You had dealt with enough assholes for one day.

Surpassing the kitchen to a back hallway, you entered the women’s locker room. At your locker, you swung it open & begin pulling out your clothes. After changing & putting your uniform back in the locker, you put on your jacket & hung your purse over your shoulder. By the time you left the locker room, the cooks had cleared out from the kitchen. You re-entered the main part of the restaurant, intending on clocking out without saying another word to Rafe. You’d get your tip from serving him in the morning. But as you unwillingly peered in his direction, his table was empty.

“Where’s…?”

The bartender followed your line of sight, shrugging, “He wanted a box. Paid then left.”

“Oh.” You breathed out, evidently relieved you wouldn’t have to see or hear from him.

“Here.” The bartender handed you the familiar black plastic plate that held a receipt.

Rafe’s payment.

You accepted the plate & approached the POS system. You were pulling up his tab, preparing to enter the tip he left when you only realized just then that he had left none. Instead, on the tip line where you at least expected to see a 20% tip, was just a frowny face.

“Asshole!” You slammed the plastic plate down.

“What’s wrong?” The bartender asked from a few feet away.

Turning your glare onto him, you just shook your head, “Nothing.”

He raised his brows in disbelief but didn’t question further.

Tossing the receipt into a nearby trash, you angrily clocked out, waving your hand in dismissal as the bartender threw you a parting greeting. In the elevator, you felt your foot tapping irritably.

That fucking prick. You grumbled internally.

Once the elevator doors opened on the ground floor of the building, you stomped out, pulling your jacket tighter against you as you approached the main doors. It was late autumn & the weather was wicked outside. Fortunately, it was only two blocks to your apartment building, so you wouldn’t be in the heavy, chilly rain for long.

But just as you exited the building, your chin tucked into your chest, you heard your name being called. Pausing on the street & peering through the rainwater that had collected in your eyes, you spotted a sleek black Mercedes idling beside you in the street. Rafe Cameron sat behind the wheel.

“How ‘bout that drink?”

With his lack of a tip on top of you’re already bad mood, you stomped forward to lean into his passenger window, his untouched leftovers in the passenger seat.

“How ‘bout you take that steak & choke on it!” You sneered.

But Rafe only chuckled amusingly at that, “Still as fiery as ever.”

Tearing yourself away from his car, you began to walk away, but the light hum of a car’s engine continued to follow.

“Oh, c’mon. I was only giving you a hard time! I’ll still give you a tip.”

“Fuck you.” You hollered back through the rain, no longer interested in his tip.

“Well, that’s one way to tip, I’ll admit, just didn’t think it was how you preferred getting paid.”

His suggestive retort was not lost on you. But you refused to react. It’s what he wanted.

“C’mon!” Rafe laughed jovially from the warm & dry confines of his car, “I was just kidding! Hey, how ‘bout this?”

You rolled your eyes, wishing more than anything he’d pop a tire or run out of gas, but no such things ever happened.

“You come have a drink with me, & I’ll give you your well-deserved tip.”

You shook your head, smiling unimpressively to yourself.

“No?” Rafe called out, “How ‘bout $500?”

Now that, that made you stop in your tracks. You finally looked at him, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

He only smiled charmingly.

“What’s the catch?” You questioned, not wanting to fully reveal that your time could indeed be bought for a measly $500, but it would give you means to go out & shop on your next day off, something you hadn’t done in quite some time.

“No catch.” Rafe shrugged, “Just the pleasure of your company & catching up with an old friend.”

“’Friend’ is a generous term.” You commented sucking your lip in between your teeth in contemplation.

“Interested or not?”

You sighed. He couldn’t have all the power, you couldn’t give in so easily.

“Make it $1000 & you have yourself a deal.”

Rafe scoffed at that but his grin only grew wider, “Thinking highly of yourself still, I see.”

You stepped forward, your arms crossed over your chest, “Interested or not?” You repeated his question with ten times the attitude.

A tense, challenging stare-off occurred as Rafe eyed you deep in thought. Then, just when you thought he would back out of the deal & you’d lose yourself $500, he moved his leftovers from the passenger seat to the back seat.

“Hop in.”

A winning smile appeared on your face.

One drink quickly turned into two. Then three. Then four, & after that you stopped keeping count, too inebriated to do so. Your bitchy & sassy attitude disappearing with every sip until all that was left was a sad & lonesome young woman.

Rafe insisted on driving you home & you didn’t have the energy to argue. Besides, you were so drunk that you were regrettably dependent on him to get you home, not nearly sober enough to trust yourself to get the job done.

He found a convenient spot in front of your building & you were forced to lean into him as he helped you into the lobby of your building. At that point you had trusted in your own abilities to get yourself the rest of the way up to your apartment but said nothing as Rafe helped you into the elevator before pressing a button for the 12th floor. You drunkenly frowned at that, not remembering having told him what floor you lived on. But the thought came & went & before you knew it your floor had arrived.

Rafe carried you against him as he led the way to your door without asking which one was yours. Another red flag raised in your mind but you shook it away. You must’ve said something at point in your alcohol-riddled brain. You leaned against the wall, reaching into your purse to fetch your keys but Rafe snagged the bag away from you, seeking them out himself. You peered at him through blurry vision as he sunk the keys into your door & swung it open.

Your apartment was a studio but luxurious enough to your tastes. As you stumbled forward into the kitchen, desperate for some water, you vaguely heard as Rafe closed the door behind the two of you, locking it.

His presence was no longer necessary but you didn’t trust yourself to say anything, knowing your speech would be embarrassingly slurred.

As you filled a glass with water from the sink, you felt a shadow appear behind you before a pair of hands found themselves on your hips & a warm set of lip began kissing along the side of your neck.

Your eyes widened at the unexpected come-on. As best as you could, you slithered out of Rafe’s grasp, subtly pushing him away. You placed the glass on the counter & glared at him.

“What are you… what are you doing?”

Rafe chuckled lightly at that, reaching for the top of your jacket & shoving it off you, “Getting my money’s worth.”

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that his warm body pressed against yours & how his feather-light kisses going across your collarbone felt sinfully good, but it was his comment that forced you to shove him back harder.

“Speaking of,” you stabilized yourself against the counter, “pay up.”

Rafe sighed but reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, revealing a wad of cash before tossing it onto the counter.

The sound of the money slapping against your granite countertop was music to your ears. And it was all because you had a drink with a face from the past. You reached for the wad, intending on counting it but Rafe’s body pressed against your own once more, his hands deftly reaching for the hem of your crop top.

“Stop.” You grumbled, wriggling in his grip, your only care at that moment being for the money.

“It’s all there.” He said lowly, his lips kissing along your jawline.

“Ugh.” You made a sound of disgust when his tongue darted out to graze against the corner of your mouth.

Alright, enough was enough.

Using what little strength you had left, you shoved Rafe again, though this time much harder. He stumbled backwards & into your fridge, shaking the grocery objects on top of it.

“The fuck is your problem?” He growled in disbelief.

“I’m not a fucking whore.” You spit out, glaring hotly at him, “You said it was for a drink, I had a drink. You can leave now.”

Rafe’s eyes darkened at that as he stared at you. He pursed his lips then in irritation before reaching into his jacket once more. He produced another wad of money.

“Another $1000, that enough?”

You felt your heart quicken at what he was suggesting.

“No.” You responded as a pulsing started in your head. Damnit, you shouldn’t have drank as much as you had. “You couldn’t pay me enough to sleep with the likes of you.”

“The likes of me?” His brows raised in mild shock. “You mean someone with money? Isn’t that what you’re after? Someone to support your lifestyle?”

Well, yes, but you wouldn’t admit that to him of all people. And even if you had, you wouldn’t choose Rafe fucking Cameron to be your provider. It had occurred to you once before that you could always return home & seduce someone from the island, much like your mother had, but you wanted better than that. And Rafe Cameron was not better.

“Keep your money.” You snarled, “Now leave.”

Rafe bit his lip at that, shaking his head knowingly, “You & I both know I didn’t pay you $1000 for a fucking drink. I want one thing from you & you’re going to give it to me.”

His confession had your stomach twisting into knots, but you couldn’t show your fear or discomfort.

“No. A deal’s a deal. If you wanted more you should’ve been clearer.”

Rafe scoffed at that, “I offered you another grand & you spit in my face.”

“Like I said,” you glowered, “I’m not a whore.”

“Please, _____.” Rafe’s tone shifted as if he was explaining a complex concept to a child, “It runs in your blood.”

Boiling over with anger & motivated by the alcohol coursing your veins, you snatched his $1000 off the counter & threw it at him, “Then taking your fucking money.”

His face darkened as the wad of cash hit him square in the chest before dropping to the ground, $100 dollar bills littering your kitchen floor.

“I don’t want my money.” His eyes glared into your own, “I want you on your fucking back.”

Before you could react, Rafe closed the distance between the two of you, catching you by the throat as he dragged you from the kitchen to your bed nestled in a corner at the farthest end of your studio.

You landed on top of your bed with a resounding ‘oomph’ before Rafe shrugged his jacket off & climbed on top of you.

“Fucking stop it!” You raised your voice, your hands reaching blindly out to resist against him.

“Ya know, I was always curious about you in high school.” Rafe began as he wrestled with your raised arms, “Such a spoiled brat that had nothing to offer. I thought there had to be more to you, something that wasn’t predictable but I guess I was wrong. You’re just like your whore mother, thinking you’re just as upper-class as the rest of us, but you’re not. You’re a fucking phony. All you want is a man with money to take care of you.”

You couldn’t help the whimpers that came from you as Rafe fought with you to get your jeans off.

“I don’t need anyone!” You hollered.

“Oh, yes you do.” Rafe retorted harshly, “I’ve been watching you for a month now, having spotted you working that pitiful job of yours when I was there on a date. And I saw in you what your father saw in your mother. A poor little thing desperate for the finer things in life. Laughing & flirting your way into better tips & potentially a man. It was so obvious, so pathetic.”

He had been watching you. The admittance scared you more than you liked to admit.

“So, I figured ‘why not me’? At least for a while. Get my kicks in while you thought naively to yourself that I would supplement your tastes for however long. All I wanted was a taste, a way to knock you down a bit, but no, you even had the balls to reject me.”

A shudder parted your lips as you felt your jeans get ripped completely off you before Rafe began reaching for his own, his hand pressing against the center of your chest, holding you securely against your plush mattress.

“Me?” Rafe laughed maniacally, “I’m not even good enough for you?”

Reluctant tears forced their way out as your heart raced. This was really happening.

“You’re such a fucking….” Rafe paused to glare down at you with evident contempt, “bitch!”

A shrill scream tore from your throat but Rafe covered your mouth with his hand as he nestled himself between your legs. He didn’t even bother removing your underwear, just tugged them to the side, the elastic of them digging into the sensitive skin there as he forced his cock against your entrance.

You beat your fists against his back but it had no effect. And before you knew it, a white hot pain flashed before your eyes as Rafe tore into you, your hymen ripping in the process.

Rafe released a tense groan as he stilled above you, realization coming over him as he felt your untouched cunt fill with blood around him.

“Wow.” He breathed in mild surprise, “I’m honored.”

You kept crying, whimpering under his hand as he began to thrust, his movements harsh & painful against your pulsing center. Your walls were dry & burned with every stretch as he made himself a home within you.

He leaned down then, his lips hot against your skin as he kissed, licked, & nipped along your shoulder. Your vision blurred from the tears as you could only lie there & take it as he fucked you against your will.

You never had any idealized fantasies about when you would first have sex, not one of those foolish young girls who dreamt about saving themselves for ‘the right one’, but you did want to at least save your first time to be with someone who would be your end all. The idea of giving it to just anyone never sat well with you, even if it was what your mother had done for years before landing your father. And you loathed being anything like her, even if you knew deep down that you were exactly like her.

Rafe’s groans filled the studio space of your apartment & you desperately sought out anything else to distract yourself from the reality of your situation. Your eyes blinked through tears as you finally eyed the window above your bed. It was still raining outside but it had lightened at that point. Droplets dribbled down the pane of the glass. Your eyes would latch onto one, watching as it disappeared near the bottom before finding another, repeating the habit.

It felt like you were watching rain beat lightly against your window for hours before Rafe finally came. He fisted his hands in your hair, earning you a silent gasp as your body pulsed from his rough ministrations. He shuddered on top of you before collapsing against you.

You shook beneath him, licking at your dry parted lips, willing yourself to fall into a deep sleep & forget any of it had ever happened. But just as you felt your consciousness begin to sleep from exhaustion, Rafe chuckled against your neck.

“That was…something.” He pushed him upwards, your legs immediately pressing against one another the second he stood from the bed.

He gathered his jacket from the floor & put it back on, eyeing you in the dimly lit interior of your apartment as you stared unfeelingly at your ceiling.

A soft thud sounded by your head & you blinked, eyeing whatever was just thrown beside you. The second wad of $1000.

“Worth every penny.” Rafe commented, but followed it with salt for your literal open wound, “Though I’ve had better.”

You winced.

Sighing to himself, he stared out your window for some time before finally looking back at your used & abused form lying still on your bed.

“I already know you won’t run crying to mommy & daddy, let alone the cops, but just know that if you do, I’ve got more money where that came from. Much more. And you don’t want to be the sad little thing that cried ‘rape’ just to have it brushed under the carpet, do you?”

Rafe caught your jaw, forcing you to look at him. He feigned concern, “That would just be embarrassing.”

With what little energy you had left, you yanked your head from his grip, turning your back on him as you curled into a fetal position.

“Hmm.” Rafe exhaled heavily, his eyes burning into the center of your back, “Well, thanks for your time, _____. We should do it again soon.”

The possibility made you nauseous.

“After all, I know where you work. And live.” There was a devilish lilt to his tone, “So, don’t go far. I may get hungry for seconds.”

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