#...this is such an interesting waste of time...

[aalexan]

I don’t need to improve my argument with you. I’m not really interested in trying to convince you of what I know is true.

I remember sitting in every history class thinking “I wonder when a woman will show up. I wonder when we’ll learn about a woman in history. I wonder when we’ll hear about a woman.” There are many important female historical figures. We don’t hear about them because men don’t want us to. Men are not the only ones who shaped this world; but they like to pretend they are.

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part5

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: sadnesses.

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He’d never thought of himself as someone who could be in a serious relationship. He never thought he could be devoted enough, or love someone that deeply. For Rafe, it was beyond impossible. Fleeting interests had always come first in his life.

It’s not that he found it difficult to connect or share feelings with someone; he just never wanted to. He’d always seen it as a waste of time.

Whether love even existed was something he still wasn’t sure of, because he didn’t believe in it.

But he was sure the feelings he had for you were real. He couldn’t say it was love—he wasn’t even sure love existed in that way. But the affection he felt for you was beyond words.

Yes, he was rich—rich enough to support his family for three generations. But he quickly realized that the bond he had with you was his real wealth.

He’d never thought of you as different from anyone else. To him, you were a typical Kook: rich, aware of your own beauty. To overlook that beauty, he would have to be blind.

Yes, he’d liked girls before. He liked spending time with them, preferring quick, physical flings over emotional entanglements. He was the kind of guy who enjoyed one-night stands.

Until he met you.

You’d met in a completely ordinary way. You already knew of each other; you both came from the island’s wealthiest families. It was impossible not to know one another.

When you ended up side by side at one of those dull Kook events, neither of you thought you'd hit it off. You weren't much of a drinker, usually preferring lighter, non-alcoholic cocktails. But that event was so painfully boring that you thought you couldn’t get through it without a drink in hand.

You hadn’t expected him to be there. You hadn’t expected him to want to escape the event, just like you did. And you certainly hadn’t expected that, while grabbing different drinks, the two of you would start talking.

You ended up spending the whole night together, maybe just to pass the time, maybe because you actually enjoyed the conversation—you couldn’t really tell.

But after that night, neither of you could stop thinking about the other.

Surprisingly— you were the first girl to linger in Rafe’s mind without him sleeping with her. He couldn’t get the length of the conversation, or your laugh, out of his head.

From then on, things began to change. At every party, his eyes searched for you. At every Kook event, he hoped to find you alone—watching for those rare moments when you weren’t with your family. He didn’t see you as some object of desire; he saw you for who you were.

He didn’t just want to have sex with you; he wanted to spend time with you.

At parties, the second he saw you, he unconsciously pushed away any girl sitting next to him. He wanted you to see him differently, even though you already knew his reputation.

When he realized you were starting to show up at every party, he started distancing himself from other girls. Not only did he push them aside, but he wouldn’t even let them come close to him. He acted without thinking, because if he had thought it through, he would have found a way to stop himself.

He didn’t want you to see him as a playboy. He wasn’t sure how he wanted you to see him; he just wanted you to see him as… a good person. Even he couldn’t believe he was trying to change himself, but he couldn’t help it.

Rafe looked at you with the same awe an eight-year-old might have if they saw Spider-Man in person.

He couldn’t help but want you. But it wasn’t just desire—he was crazy about you.

Every time you talked, he wanted more. For you, he’d probably break down the atom just so you two could talk about it for hours.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to share a bed. But for the first time, Rafe didn’t feel fixated on that. He didn’t just have sex with you; he made love to you. Every kiss ignited a warmth in his chest. Every time you moaned his name, his heart pounded for you. Every time you held hands, he couldn’t help but kiss your hand.

He’d never felt this way for anyone. No one else was like you. You were the only woman who made him feel like he even had a heart—aside from his mom.

And it went on like that. Rafe stayed loyal to you. Even when you weren’t officially together, when you were just flirting and spending nights together, he never looked at another girl.

At parties, he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Whether it was your hand, your arm, or your waist… he always stayed close. He liked acting as if you two were in a real relationship.

Rafe thought he was just feeling things more intensely than usual. He’d never felt this way about relationships before. You were the woman who’d stayed in his life the longest.

When you two finally got together, it felt like a fairy tale. Everything was perfect, and it stayed that way. Every time he saw you, his heart warmed. Every touch, every time you called him “my love,” it erased the world around him. There was only you. His whole world revolved around you.

Everything was perfect.

Rafe’s life had been nothing but a sea of gray. But the moment you entered his life, all the colors returned.

During the year and a half of your relationship, Rafe felt like he was lying on a beach, listening to the ocean waves. Every moment with you brought a peace to his life like birdsong.

Yes, there were arguments. But you two always found a way through. It was surprising, but he couldn’t stay away from you; he couldn’t stand being apart. You two never even talked about breaking up.

Not until now.

Neither of you had the strength for a breakup conversation. To do that would mean it was truly over. That the beautiful year and a half was done. Rafe had never wanted that. But somehow, he knew his reactions—the way things had spiraled—had led to this moment, and it scared him.

A few weeks back, you’d sent a message saying you were keeping the baby. He hadn’t known what to say. He was afraid, afraid things would stay just like this. And a message saying you were keeping the baby definitely felt like a breakup message in your language. He was sure of that. His heart and mind were at war.

Every moment with you had made his heart race with love and excitement; he’d never felt this kind of weight—especially from you.

“Earth to Rafe! Get it together, dude.” Kelce’s voice snapped him out of it, and Rafe looked up from his drink to find Kelce looking ready to shake him. He hadn’t even realized how lost in thought he was. His day-to-day was becoming affected.

He was lovesick, but he was the one who’d pushed you away.

Rafe dropped his hand from his chin and ran his fingers through his hair. He hated looking weak. He’d worked so hard to prove that he wasn’t. He wanted to show everyone a breakup wouldn’t break him. His eyes, lips, and face might lie, but his mind was consumed with thoughts of you. “I’m fine,” he replied, his voice firm. He felt like he was losing his mind when he wasn’t with you, but he wasn’t ready to accept what came with you.

He liked risk, loved adrenaline. He enjoyed going full throttle, ignoring the dangers.

And you were pregnant. With Rafe’s baby.

There were so many times he wanted to erase that thought from his mind. He wanted to pretend it didn’t exist. He loved you like crazy, but this wasn’t the life he wanted or was ready for.

He didn’t feel good enough to be a father. He wasn’t at an age to start a family. He had a whole life to live. He could spend years with you, but he wasn’t ready to start a family. All he wanted was you. Just you, without all that extra.

Rafe rubbed his eyes, feeling suffocated by his thoughts, glancing around. He was sick of this stupid place. Golfing, hanging out at the country club—it all felt so fake. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, as if he was suffocating even though they were outside.

It was like the sunny sky suddenly turned to pouring rain in front of his eyes.

“This place is boring as fuck. I’m out.” He raised a hand to call for the check, noticing the questioning looks from Topper and Kelce. He didn’t owe them any explanation. Who were they to him anyway?

As if they were so important…

“I swear, serious relationships are a disease. If it’s gotten even to Rafe Cameron…” Rafe exhaled heavily, watching the waiter approach as Topper’s mocking laughter echoed. Even his friends talking like that was getting to him.

He’d already gotten into a fight with Kelce over you weeks ago. Even if things were over between you, he wasn’t going to forgive Kelce, not after he’d slut-shamed you. Topper clearly wanted things to cool down, hoping his two closest friends would both be at his upcoming birthday.

"It's like he's had a serious relationship before and found someone to actually date," Topper snickered, while Kelce nudged him under the table. Kelce looked ready to lunge at him, clearly annoyed, and Topper seemed just as irritated. Bringing up your situation, knowing it would rile Rafe, made him look like he was out for a fight. If they weren’t at the golf club, Rafe was sure Kelce would be on him in a heartbeat.

"Talk like your dating history’s any better, it’s hilarious. First, there's Ruthie—total bitch nightmare. Then there's Sarah Cameron, your best friend’s sister. Clean up your act first, creep."

Rafe could hardly stand it anymore. If he heard Kelce mention one more name from his life, he was going to knock him out. He’d rather throw himself off a cliff than lose more brain cells listening to these two idiots. When their chatter finally died down, Rafe took a deep breath. He hated this.

"Hey Sofia, you look as… Pogue as ever. You guys just love that, don’t you?" Topper grinned, watching the waitress as she met his gaze with a blank look, as if his very presence annoyed her. She quickly shifted her attention back to Rafe. Watching the exchange, Topper nudged Kelce, amused by the interest sparking in Sofia's eyes. He couldn’t help but find it funny.

As Rafe took out his wallet, he listened to his friends’ ongoing conversation. "I can't be alone here with you in this dumb place. I can’t stand you and your girlfriend. It’s like the two of you found your perfect match.” Instead of responding, Topper rolled his eyes and ignored Kelce as he took out his wallet.

Topper, like Kelce and Rafe, took out his wallet, muttering, "Right, says the guy with so many partners he’s practically a walking biohazard."

Kelce's eyes widened as he insisted that wasn’t true, making Topper chuckle. He loved stretching the truth for a laugh. Kelce rolled his eyes, quickly handing his card to the waitress, while Rafe’s gaze drifted to his open wallet. He couldn’t help but notice the photo tucked inside—a picture of you and him.

Was this how you’d keep showing up in his life?

Would you just appear, throwing yourself in his face whenever he least expected it?

He hadn’t seen you in weeks. Rafe wasn’t sure if you were avoiding him or if you were holed up somewhere, in your own world. He sighed as he looked at the photo, memories washing over him. He missed the old days, and the weight of this picture hit him so hard he felt disoriented. Your cheeks pressed together in the photo, with Rafe's arms wrapped around your waist while you snapped the shot. That smile on your face—it was so beautiful he couldn’t look away. He could’ve stared at you for hours, just watching. He had watched you sleep so many times. Somehow, you only grew more beautiful each time he saw you.

His love for you was a flame that refused to die, and it didn’t take a genius to see it. He loved you.

Though he couldn’t admit it, he was scared. It shouldn’t have ended like this, but he didn’t know what to do.

Rafe wasn’t one for big moments. He wasn’t known for making the best decisions. He’d usually take his time, mulling things over until he was sure they were right. But in quick decisions, he tended to mess up and stumble.

Hearing about your pregnancy face-to-face had sent a wave of panic crashing through him. Even though he had no idea what to do, he tried to keep his composure. He couldn’t forget the moment you’d tearfully said the two of you were a mistake. He wasn’t used to seeing you cry. Those red eyes of yours were burned into his memory.

He didn’t want regrets. He didn’t want to wish he’d done things differently.

But the thought of a happy ending with you? That had never even crossed his mind.

As he kept looking at the photo, a faint smile tugged at his lips. He couldn’t help but remember that day. Time with you had been so perfect, filling him with warmth every time he thought of it.

He remembered it so clearly. It was your third month together, seven months since everything between you had started. You’d shared countless special moments. Every experience with you was a first for him. Whatever you two did, he felt like a clueless schoolboy with a crush—and he meant that.

Who had he ever woken up with, wrapped in his arms? Who else’s hair had he smelled as he fell asleep? Who else’s eyes had he gazed into, getting lost? Who else had made his heart race like this?

No one. In some ways, Rafe Cameron was a total virgin Mary.

For the first time in ages, your family had to go overseas, leaving you home alone—for a week. Being with you felt like a vacation to him. You swam, you cooked, he tried to make you breakfast, you showered together, you slept…

That week was so perfect he felt like he was filled with peace. He’d replay it in his mind over and over again. You and those memories were always there. Always would be.

This photo was taken just after you’d both showered, right before cooking a meal together for the first time. You both made dinner that evening. It wasn’t the best, but because you’d done it together, no amount of money could buy a meal that meaningful.

It was honestly an achievement for you both. You went into the kitchen at six and finally finished cooking by nine. At one point, you even considered ordering pizza but convinced each other you were close to done. And then you spent another two hours in the kitchen—guess it wasn’t so “close” after all.

It was such a beautiful day.

After dinner, you’d made sex.

As he felt his smile widen at the memory, a sudden jab to his leg snapped his attention back. His smile faded instantly, replaced by his usual hard look. Trying to figure out what had happened, he noticed the waitress waiting for him. Frustration bubbled up in him for interrupting his happy thoughts of you. He looked away from the photo, quickly pulling out his card without making eye contact. He knew that if he looked at you, he wouldn’t be able to look away.

"Sofia’s waiting. Just give her what she wants," Topper teased, a smirk on his face, as Rafe sighed and tapped his card.

If he gave attention to every girl who showed interest, like he used to, he’d never be able to keep a serious relationship. Not that he was sure your relationship was even still… ongoing.

But he was certain he’d be off the market for a while. Touching someone else after you didn’t feel right. Embarrassingly enough, he doubted he’d even, well, respond to anyone else.

He stood up, grabbing his keys as he hurried past the waitress without a second glance. As crazy as it might make him to be alone, he couldn’t handle his friends’ stupid conversations any longer.

Even if it drove him mad, he couldn’t stay by Topper or Kelce’s side for another second.

As soon as he got in his car, his phone rang, and he let out a long sigh. Not a single moment of peace today. His thin veneer of calm was barely hanging on, and it felt like the day was determined to shatter it. Starting the car, he glanced at the number on the screen before it even connected.

Wheezie Cameron.

What on earth could she want?

Honestly, if Wheezie was calling him, it’d better be because she was in actual danger or Rose had finally stormed out of the house for good.

He was really hoping for the second one. He didn’t have a penny to spare right now.

“What?” he answered, not hiding his irritation. All he wanted was to get out of this trashy place and be stretched out at home with the ocean in view. No Wheezie, no Rose, and definitely no Ward. In fact, he’d had it with all of them. He was so done with seeing the same faces every day.

All he wanted was silence.

“Hello to you too, Rafe.” Rafe couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her tone. It drove him crazy. He wanted to chuck his phone out the window. Whatever Wheezie needed, she’d better spit it out so he could say no, hang up, and blast Kendrick Lamar.

“Just tell me, Wheezie. I’m not in the mood.” Wheezie was still young, and Rafe tried—halfheartedly—to keep from cursing around her. Ward and Rose had chewed him out about his language, and sure, they had a point. But it was annoying. He was the big brother—though honestly, he’d have preferred being an only child.

“Nope,” she said smugly. Rafe tightened his grip on the wheel, jaw clenched. Why did both his sisters have to be such idiots? It was like God deliberately made both his sisters total morons. “I’m not telling you a thing until you say hello properly.”

Rafe slammed his hand against the steering wheel, fighting the urge to yell. He forced himself to keep his eyes open. He was driving, after all, and the last thing he wanted was a crash. But if Wheezie kept this up, he’d be losing control of the wheel voluntarily.

“Hello! Hello, Wheezie! Now, spill it!” The words came out as a shout before he could stop himself. Immediate regret hit him. His temper was awful lately. You were gone. In short, he was a mess.

When he heard her give a dramatic sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. She wasn’t fazed, of course. She was used to this, barely fazed by him anymore. Classic Rafe, right? “So, I was out today. Shopping with Rose—”

Rafe knew how his sister worked—unfortunately. She wasn’t excitable, but she loved to narrate. Whatever the hell had happened, she was going to start from the million hours leading up to it. With a deep breath, he braced himself for the full play-by-play, including the time of day and every store clerk’s name. God help him if she started counting her steps…

The Kendrick Lamar dream was officially dead.

He had zero interest in listening to a full breakdown of her day with Rose, but if he hung up, Wheezie would go ballistic. She’d tell their dad, and Ward would chew him out for that, too. That he couldn’t deal with. Right now, he just wanted a bit of time to himself. Just some peace. Just him, alone.

“Then, I saw this blue dress—”

Rafe wanted to drive the car straight off a cliff. He couldn’t handle this. This was killing him. Every pointless detail Wheezie added wrecked his efforts to calm down.

“...and then we left, and we ran into Sarah. She asked about you. Can you believe it? Then she said she wanted to meet up— Family reunion!”

What the—what is even happening?

Even when you were holding your baby in your mind, all you could think about was ice cream. The cravings were off the charts. Sometimes, you wanted something so badly it felt like the world might end if you didn’t get it. Lately, strawberries were your biggest craving. You couldn’t stop. If your hands weren’t stained red from eating so many, you felt like you’d explode.

But right now, your mind had drifted back to ice cream. You wanted vanilla ice cream so much you could’ve dived into a whole tub of it.

You wanted someone with you when the cravings hit. Someone who’d put up with your fussing—like Rafe.

Just thinking about him made you tense, which was happening way too often these days. Especially now, carrying his baby, it was almost always on your mind, making you anxious.

Being alone was really hard. You’d never felt alone in a crowd—until now.

You waited.

You really waited. When you told him you were keeping the baby, you’d waited for some kind of response. You’d waited for him to call, to come over, to tell you he’d be there. But he never showed.

He didn’t text, didn’t call, didn’t make an effort. He left you to handle this alone.

To be honest, you hadn’t been sure you’d even keep the baby when you first told him. You were just so angry, you’d wanted him to think you would. But even so, your mind never actually veered toward an abortion, though you had the right. There was nothing wrong with choosing an abortion—but you’d decided you wanted this baby.

The idea of a man controlling a woman’s choices was sickening. Having an abortion was a right, just like having a child was.

When you went for your first appointment and saw the baby for the first time, your heart raced. They asked if the father would be coming, and you didn’t want to answer, but a quick “No” slipped out. Your mind wanted him nowhere near this, but your heart couldn’t quite let go.

Luckily, you’d always been someone who chose her head over her heart.

An “almost-man” who’d abandoned you with his child—he wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t even a man at all; he was just a boy.

Taking responsibility was part of it. You’d respected his boundaries. He’d made it clear he didn’t want this, so you’d made your choice to raise the baby on your own.

Single motherhood would be hard, but you wanted this child.

And you’d do what Rafe wanted. He didn’t want the baby, so you’d make sure he’d never see it. You’d make sure he’d never touch, never meet this child.

When you were on that exam table, he should have been the one holding your hand.

But he wasn’t.

The support came from where you hadn’t expected it.

Your mom.

She was still upset you were keeping the baby, but it didn’t take her long to understand this was your life. The day you’d left home in anger had seemed to shock her into a full 180.

You knew your dad didn’t approve, either, but they’d never once turned their backs on you. Maybe they were scared you’d leave and never come back. Who knows?

When you learned the baby was healthy, you felt a deep calm settle over you. The doctor told you it was too early to know the gender, but you could wait. That was okay.

You were two months and three weeks along.

Despite everything, all the heartache, when you listened to the baby’s heartbeat, it was like none of it had ever happened. When your mom saw your eyes welling up, she quickly looked down, but she squeezed your hand and smiled.

From the woman who’d once shouted for you to get an abortion, to the one tearing up over her grandchild…

It was strange.

The baby was healthy. There was no sign of any issues. And soon enough, in just a few weeks, you’d know the gender. That made you happy.

Your hands were shaking when they gave you the ultrasound photo. You didn’t feel shy about asking for a few extras—you wanted to put them everywhere. The reality of it struck you all over again. You were going to have a baby, to be a mother, and there were only months left to go.

You’d be a mom, and you’d do whatever it took to give this child a good life.

You

Are you still working at the ice cream shop?

JJ Maybank

Nah, got fired.

Why?

You

Shit. I really need some ice cream.

JJ Maybank

Ok.

Vanilla or chocolate?

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[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 8

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible. Racism against Illyrians/Lesser Faes?

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Sky didn’t have much of a temper.

Even if she was frustrated or annoyed, she rarely got angry or lost her patience. 

It wasn't that she didn't have emotions. She did. She felt things deeply, passionately. However, she also believed that there was no point in wasting energy on getting angry. It didn't solve anything. It only made things worse. 

So Sky had learned a very, very long time ago…that there was no need to start screaming, because her stutter didn’t allow her that anyway…and that maybe…maybe it was easier for her to just let go off her anger about being unfairly treated. 

Getting angry wouldn’t help her. 

That day however…it burst out of her. Burst out of her like somebody had lanced an abscess. 

Her family could say whatever they wanted about her. But they were not going to say a single word about Azriel 

It was Winter Solstice.

Azriel and her had spent the last month or so enjoying winter season in Velaris…even once trying to ice skate on their lake, which only ended with him kissing her skinned knees, because she was definitely not a natural at it.

They had bought Winter Solstice gifts, and baked cookies…had decorated their house with pine garlands and velvet ribbons…

She had knitted them socks and they had made rabbit stews out of rabbits Azriel had hunted in the forest behind their house. (It was…she had never really seen him as a warrior, even when he wore these black leathers and the blue stone that glinted off him…but she could see him as a hunter, when he came home with a couple of rabbits, ready for dinner. It had also resulted in a new fur lined blanket for her, all ready on the couch. 

She had never outright asked…but he seemd to like it when she was cuddled beneath it, like it seemed to soothe some kind of instinct for him. Maybe the fact that it was the animal he had hunted?)   

Sky and Azriel had both made the decision to spend the days with their respective families and have their own Solstice celebrations the next day…that would pretty much sonsits out of a lazy day in bed and nothing else. 

It sounded amazing. Just what they wanted. 

And it had made sense to celebrate like that. She hadn’t wanted to be the one to keep him from his family after all, even if the thought of not spending Solstice with her mate had hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Azriel had been up ridiculous easily in the morning for a snowball fight that was apparently tradition…but not before he had spent a good half hour making her scream his name with his mouth between her thighs…

Afterwards, she had gotten dressed and left the shadows to amuse Hector for the day… and Sky had left to help her mother with dinner preparations.

A nice, quiet family dinner. Nothing more and nothing less.

That’s what it was supposed to be. They didn’t even get that far.

It all went to shit before dinner was even in the oven. 

From the moment she entered her parents house it was a barrage of barbed comments. About her appearance, her stutter, her lack of an boyfriend…her lack of a proper job. (Sellyn Drake was hers. Sellyn Drake was nothing they got to gossip about.) 

Sky had bitten her tongue. She had ignored the comments, tried to enjoy herself. But Claire never knew when enough was enough.

Her sister kept at it. Kept needling, jabbing at Sky until the little bubbles of anger popped to the surface and boiled into something…bigger.

“I…I met my m…mate,” Sky finally said flatly, after anther jab at her lack of a boyfriend. 

Take that Claire. Not just a fiance. A mate. 

Finally in just one thing Sky had been faster than her sister. 

A mate. That mystical rare mating bond had been a gift from the other for her and not for Claire. 

It caught Claire off guard. She stopped pacing, and turned to look at her sister, brow raised. The look said ‘Oh is that so?’ as if it was the kind of nonsense she had come to expect from her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, clearly not believing a word Sky said. 

But Sky wasn’t going to let this go. “His n..name is Azriel,” Sky said with a smile. “We are ver…very hap…happy.” 

They were. They were so happy. So delightfully happy. (So delightfully happy that Sky had been wondering if maybe…maybe the should start trying. High Fae fertility was hit or miss anyway…why shouldn’t they simply start trying and see where it would take them. And if it took two decades, then it took two decades. If it only took a year or three…well, then they were lucky.)  

Claire narrowed her eyes. She was about to say something mean, Sky could see it in the way her lip curled up.

“He…He's a g…good male,” she said firmly, cutting Claire off before she got the chance to spew out anything else.

Claire laughed. It was a harsh, biting sound.

"A good male? Really, Sky?" she sneered. "You actually fell for that line?"

It wasn’t a line. It was the truth. 

Azriel was a good male. Patient and intense and loving. He had never raised a single finger against her.Azriel would never hurt her intentionally. 

 Claire just wanted to belittle Sky in front of their whole family.

"You must be even more naive than you seem if you believe that," she said, almost pityingly. "You really think he wants you? That he actually cares about you? Nobody could want you. I bet he just pities you."

It should have hurt her, she realised. It would have. Even just months ago, it would have hurt her. 

But right now…right now it didn’t really. 

She was supposed to believe that Azriel didn’t want her? The same male that had spent the better part of an hour on his knees in front of her that very morning, eating her out like a starved male? She was supposed that her mate, who’s arousal shot across the bond like an inferno any time she slipped off her clothes, didn’t want her? That the same male that stared at her like she was a goddess, that spent hours worshipping her body with his hands…that she had nearly made come simply by touching his wings a few days ago didn’t want her? 

Still…Claire's words had their effect. She felt a small stab of doubt in her heart, and she hated it. She hated that her sister could still hurt her like this, still make her feel like that insecure little girl who stuttered and couldn't get a single word right.

“He…He l…loves me and I…I love him,” Sky said calmly.

That was clear in every single one of his actions, in every single word. 

“Where did you even meet him?” Sky’s mother demanded. “And what kind of name is Azriel?”

“In…In a bar. Wh…When we went out for Cl..Claire’s Hen Do.  And I im…imagine it’s an Il…illyrian name.”

Everything ground to a halt.

“He’s Illyrian?!” Her mother demanded sharply. “What’s wrong with you, Skylar!”

Sky flinched at her tone. It was harsh, angry. It was the same tone she'd always used when Sky was younger and got anything wrong or stepped out of line.

"Yes, he's Il…Illlyrian," she said, meeting her mother's gaze levelly. "What's…what’s wrong with that?" she asked. 

She knew that her family wasn’t the…most open about Lesser Faes, but…but that hatred in her mother’s voice….she hadn’t expected that. 

“Everything,” Admon gave back with a snort. “You seriously let that barbarian fuck you? I am surprised you actually survived that and he didn’t just rip you apart.”

Every bit of colour leeched out of her face, except her ruddy red cheeks at these crude words. 

This was Admon. Once upon a time, she had wanted to marry him. To have his children. To spent her life with him. 

And…and this was what he told her to her face. 

“I can’t believe that you even let a creature like him touch you,” her mother breathed staring at her with utter disgust.

“He’...He’s not a cre…creature,” Sky bit out. Azriel was her mate. 

“Is it true by the way?” Her brother wondered. “That Illyrian’s have a cat’s prick?”

"Orin!" her mother exclaimed, aghast. "Don't be vulgar! I don't want to know."

Orin shrugged, a smirk dancing across his face. "What? I’m just curious. I am sure Skylar knows. She must please him somehow when she’s still alive to enjoy their…couplings.”

Sky felt ill. She didn't know what to say, what to say in defense of the man she loved. She couldn't get a word out.

“Did you…did you let it touch you?” Her father demanded finally, his voice icy.

It. Not even him. It. Like Azriel was a thing. 

Sky felt her heart drop to the floor, breaking into pieces.

"Yes," she admitted, her voice barely audible.

Her father's face grew stony, and he took a step closer to her.

“How dare you?” he hissed. "How could you let a monster touch you like that?"

"He's not a monster!" Sky protested, her voice rising. "He's…He’s k…kind and gen…gentle, and-"

“And I am sure, he keeps you stuffed with his cat prick to keep you satisfied,” Claire drawled.

And Sky was done.

Somehow that was the last straw. 

Somehow that made something inside her break, irreparable. 

It snipped away every thread that ever kept her close to the family that she had been born into. 

“At least I didn’t need to take my sister’s sl…sloppy s…seconds,” Sky said, her voice flat, meeting her gaze full on.“And yes, Azriel more than keeps me s…satisfied.”

Silence descended over the room, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. Sky felt the tension in the air grow heavier with each passing second.

"You…you didn’t just say that,” Claire said coldly. "You take that back, Sky.

Sky raised her chin defiantly. "No.” she said simply. “I'm…I’m not taking back the truth," she said, her voice ringing with unexpected steel.

"You do not speak to me like that," Claire hissed. "You have no right—"

Something inside Sky snapped. Years of frustration, years of feeling invisible and ignored, years of enduring Claire's taunts and jibes all bubbled to the surface.

"I…I have ev…every right," she shot back, her heart pounding in her chest. “Not so fun when you are on the re…receiving end, is it?”

“Either you end your…dalliance with…that creature, or you are no daughter of mine,” her father snapped.

He talked to her like she was nothing. Like she was worth less than dirt beneath his boots. 

And somehow that made it even easier. 

“You want me to turn away my mate…for what? This?” She asked him, cocking her head to the side. .

"For the sake of our family’s reputation," her father said. "You are an embarrassment to us all by associating with that…lesser fae barbarian.”

Barbarian. Lesser Fae. Thing. Creature. Monster.

All of that said about the male she loved. About her mate. 

“He’s Illyrian,” Sky said, her voice icy. 

“Oh come off it,” “Orin snapped. “He’s lesser fae. The only thing they are good for is being fodder for the armies during war times. Other than that, they are worthless.”

Fodder. 

“We have Lesser Fae ancestry ourself,” Sky responded icily. “Our great grandmother was a River Nymph.”

"That was a long time ago," her father interrupted sharply. "It was one ancestor generations ago. And besides, her blood was not that strong to begin with."

Sky thought back to the eyes that looked back from her mirror each day. Blue and beautiful. The one trace of her that got passed down to her.

"Maybe it was her blood that made you think that opening your legs for that creature was in any way appropriate," her mother hissed. 

And suddenly it was so easy. 

“Azriel is my mate,” she hissed. “I will al…always chose him over you. You can spew what..whatever insult you want about him or his pe…peoople. He’s still a bet…better male than any of you could ever hope to be, has treated me better than any of you. I’ll gladly no longer be your daughter.”

She felt the sting of tears running down her cheeks, but she didn't try to wipe them away. She just stared back at her family, daring them to say more. There was a short moment of silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

She should have expected it. Her mother had always been quick to slap her if she did anything anything that she didn’t like.

Just this time…her hand didn’t make contact.

Sky stared at the tendril of shadows that jerked her mother’s hand back, having suddenly appeared. 

*You. Will. Not. Lay. A. Finger. On. Her,* the shadows hissed menacingly.

Sky stared at the shadows, her eyes widening in shock. They were angry. No. Furious. Utterly and completely furious. Her mother seemed equally taken aback, her hand still outstretched in the air where the shadows had stopped her.

Orin looked like he was about to piss himself, and her father…her father stared at the shadows, his face ashen.

“Come here,” Sky said quietly.

The shadows left her mother to come swarming to her, brushing over her cheek in greeting before wrapping themselves around her neck in a clearly possessive move.

Sky felt the familiar warmth of the shadows sink into her, a small bit of comfort in this awful situation. She turned to her family, her jaw set.

"I’m…I’m never coming back," she said, her voice quiet but resolute. And with that, she turned and walked away, She had only taken a handful of steps when she stopped and turned back, one last thing needing to be said, before she closed the door on this chapter of her life forever.

"I never want to see any of you again," she said, her voice shaking only slightly. "And when we have children, don’t you dare come and ask to have anything to do with them. You don’t deserve to even breath the same air as my mate."

With that, she turned and walked away, her head held high. 

***

Whatever went on between sky and her family…it wasn’t good. He could feel that in the bond slumbering underneath his breast bone.

He rubbed it absentmindly, staring in the flickering flame of the Birchin.

He had won that Snowball fight. Once more. One more victory to add to it.  Not that he particularly cared right now.

*Is she alright?* he asked the shadows.

The shadows were…quiet. And that spoke volumes. Something wasn't right. Azriel's heart pounded against his chest, his instincts urging him to act. He had to make sure Sky was alright. He couldn't stand to think about her being in any sort of trouble.

*Physicallly unharmed,* the shadows promised. *Her family is horrible,* they told him distastefully. 

Azriel's heart clenched at the shadow’s words. While it was a small relief that Sky wasn't physically hurt…her family being horrible made him want to grimace. 

“Alright, I had it!” Cassian snapped at that moment. “What the fuck is going on with you two?”

Azriel turned to his brother, seeing Cassian watch Rhys and himself with an expression of…something. Exasperation maybe.

"What do you mean?" Azriel asked, his voice even, feigning ignorance. He was really not in the mood to get into that either. But apparently he wasn’t going to get that small bit of mercy. 

"Don’t play dumb with me, brother," Cassian said, rolling his eyes. "You are both moody and more distant than usual. What the heck happened?"

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Azriel said flatly. Cassian rolled his eyes.

“Rhys?” Cassian demanded with a sigh. 

“You want to explain or shall I?” Rhys addressed him and Azriel just looked at him flatly.

“You gave the orders, High Lord.”

If Azriel had been in a better mood, he would have smirked. But right now, he just wanted this whole conversation to be over so he could check on Sky. The thought of her made his chest ache. He longed to see her, to hold her, to make sure she's alright. But he knew that Cassian and Rhys wouldn’t let him go without an explanation.

“Azriel and I…had a disagreement about Elain.” Azriel just stared at Rhys blankly. Seriously, that was the best Rhys could come up with? That’s what he wanted to go with?!

"A disagreement?" Cassian asked, brows raised. "What kind of disagreement? A 'we came to an agreement' kind of disagreement, or a 'we punched each other in the face' disagreement?"

“A ‘Rhys sticks his nose into things that are none of his business’ disagreement,” Azriel gave back drily.

“Excuse me, you were going to kiss ELain while her mate was under the same roof two years ago. Did you ever even consider the political ramifications of that?” Rhys snapped. “For gods sake, Azriel!”

Azriel's jaw clenched at Rhys's words, his temper flaring even as he tried to maintain a neutral expression. "You think I didn't consider the consequences? Of course, I did," he hissed, his voice dangerously low. "But feelings aren't logical, Rhys. We don't choose who we fall for, and it's not as simple as calculating political ramifications."

“I told Azriel to keep away from Elain. She fell for Lucien. He’s still moping about it and giving me the fault,” Rhys said flatly. “Out of pure interest, how much longer do you want to keep up with that, Az?”

Azriel couldn’t help the laugh that burst out od his mouth at that.

“You didn’t just fucking tell me to keep away from her. You told me and I quote ‘If you need to fuck somebody go to a pleasure hall and pay for it’,” Azriel repeated viciously.

"And I stand by that," Rhys snapped. "The last thing we need is for you to pine over someone who has made it clear where she stands. Elain has her mate, and she doesn't return your feelings. She’s married for gods’ sake!”

“Whoa!” Cassian cut them off. “What the fuck, Rhys?!”

"What?" Rhys demanded, glaring at Cassian.

Cassian gave him an incredulous look. "You told Azriel to go to a pleasure hall? Seriously?"

"I was trying to be helpful," Rhys said, his jaw clenching.

"Helpful?" Cassian asked incrediously. "Helpful would have been to be a little more understanding towards your brother's feelings. He does have them, you know,” Cassian said sarcastically. 

"I know that," Rhys snapped. "But he needs to move on. It's not healthy to keep pining after someone who doesn't return his feelings."

“Where was this opinion for the 500 years of me pining after Mor?” Azriel snapped. 

Rhys's expression darkened. "Don't do that, Azriel. Don't bring Mor into this. She's not relevant to this discussion."

”Not relevant?” Azriel gave back with a laugh. “I think she’s very relevant. You don’t trust me to act like an adult about my feelings. You ordered me to behave like I am some kind of rabid dog. More than once, more than twice. Constantly. Like I would ever do anything to put Mor and Emerie’s relationship into jeopardy. Don’t worry, High Lord. I’ll behave. I’ll leave Mor and Elain alone. .”

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, his frustration clear. "This is not about Mor, Azriel. This is about keeping the peace within our Inner Circle. Elain has her own life and her own happiness to think about. Interfering could only bring pain, not just for you, but for everyone involved. That’s why I ordered you to keep your distance. Not because I don’t trust your feelings or your actions, but because sometimes even the best intentions can have unintended consequences."

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Don't give me any of your high and mighty bullshit, Rhysand. You don’t think I am good enough for Mor, and you certainly don't think I am good enough for Elain. But don’t worry, I'll keep my distance, as ordered. I wouldn't want to risk upsetting your perfect little court or ruining your plans for peace. Just tell me who else is off limits, so I know who else I'm not good enough for. Maybe Gwyn? Because remember, ‘don’t you dare to pressure her’?"

Rhys sighed, his gaze softening slightly. "Azriel, it's not about who you're 'good enough' for and who you aren't. It's about respecting people's choices and boundaries. Elain has made her choice in Lucien, and I just want to protect her and the peace we've worked so hard to maintain. And no, nobody else is off limits. You're free to…'seek your entertainment' as you please."

His entertainment. 

Right. 

Azriel snorted, the sound full of derision. “It warms my heart that you give me that permission,” Azriel said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Rhys rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by Azriel's reaction. "I'm not trying to 'give you permission,' Azriel," he said firmly. "I'm just trying to make sure you understand why I'm asking you to behave. I care about you and our inner circle. You're my brother, but I also care about Elain and her happiness. I don't want to see anyone get hurt."

“Have I done anything, anything at all that put her happiness in jeopardy?” Azriel asked, his voices harsh. “I kept away as you ordered. I fucking saved Lucien’s life, so she could be happy.”

"You haven't done anything wrong," Rhys acknowledged, his tone softening. "You've been a better friend to Elain than anyone could have asked. You saved Luicen because you are a good person, not just for Elain's sake. But I still think it’s best if you keep your distance. Not just for her, but for yourself too. Dwelling on feelings that can’t be returned will only bring you pain."

“For cauldron’s sake, Rhys,” Cassian said with a sigh.

Rhys turned his attention to him, the exasperation clear in his eyes. "What, Cassian?" he asked, his tone weary.

Cassian rubbed a hand over his jaw, shaking his head. "You’re so hell bent on keeping the peace you forget that the people in your court have feelings too," he said. "Azriel isn’t some emotionless soldier doing your bidding. He has feelings and desires, just like everyone else. And sometimes it’s not as simple as just moving on."

"I know that," Rhys said, running a hand through his hair. "But sometimes we have to put our own feelings aside for the greater good. As a High Lord, I have to think about the impact my actions could have on others. I'm not trying to shut down Azriel's feelings. I'm just trying to protect him from potential pain.”

“Yeah you did a shitty job at that,” Cassian said drily. “You could have told Mor hundred of years ago to have a conversation with him. You didn’t. But Azriel is supposed to tread carefully not to make her or Emerie uncomfortable. Azriel is supposed to behave?”

Rhys's eyes flashed in anger. "I know I've made mistakes, Cassian. I should have handled things differently with Mor and Azriel. But I can't change the past. All I can do is try to make the best decisions for everyone involved right now."

“You don’t even fucking realise how much of a self important hypocritical asshole you are, do you?” Azriel asked flatly. “It’s okay for you to pursue an engaged female that’s engaged to another High Lord, damn the consequences. But the rest of us…we are told to behave.”

Rhys bristled at Azriel’s words, his own temper threatening to flare. "That's different, Azriel," he said, his voice sharp. "That’s different and you know it. You would understand if you had a…” he hesitated.

"If I had a what?" Azriel prompted sharply.

Rhys let out a frustrated sigh, his fingers clenching around his mug. "A mate."

“Rhys,” Cassian said carefully.

"What?" Rhys snapped, his temper still simmering just below the surface. “He doesn’t have a mate, he doesn’t fucking understand it.”

Aaaaaand…. Azriel was done.

So fucking done. 

“Where are you going?” Rhys demanded as he stood up.

“Home,” Azriel said flatly. “You have my gifts, hand them out. Wish Feyre a Happy Birthday, will you? I’ll be back to do your bidding in about 3 days, High Lord.” 

“I highly doubt that your mother will enjoy your impromptu appearance at Rosehall,” Rhys said. Azriel’s hand twitched towards Truthteller. “Let’s just…”

“Rhysand!” Cassian snapped.

“What?” Rhys asked. 

“I have talked to my mother once since the Sealing of Velaris was lifted,” Azriel said tightly. “One conversation where she told me that she found a new family and that I should keep away from her. So no, Rhys. I am not going to Rosehall.”

Rhys looked utterly shell-shocked by Azriel’s revelation. "Azriel, I..." he started, but Azriel simply shook his head.

"Don't," he said. "Just don't." He didn’t wnat to talk about it. He never wanted to talk about that. His mother could do whatever she wanted. he would leave her alone, just as requested. But he was not going to talk about it. 

“Then I am coming with you. You are not spending Winter Solstice alone brooding at the House of Wind,” Cassian said quickly, standing. 

“I am not going to the House of Wind either.” Azriel answered flatly. “I am going home to my house and I won’t be alone either.”

"What do you mean you won't be alone?" Rhys asked sharply.

Azriel just snorted, “My mate will be there,” he said simply. “She’s better company than any of you.”

“Your...your mate?” Rhys repeated, his eyes widening.

Cassian gaped at Azriel. "Your mate? Why didn’t you tell us? Who is she?"

“Why should I tell you? ” Azriel gave back his voice icy. “I may trust you with this court, Rhysand, but I do not trust you with anything I love. Not anymore.”

[dapperpea]

OP.

OP, listen to me.

Do you know what you've done to my static.

Due to an unfortunate death-prone healer, I have been turned into my static's hair-trigger rez mage. If someone dies in raid, you bet I'm there with my little macro and I'm extremely sure I've pissed off our healers by making them waste swiftcast many, many times but I am what they made me. My mana? Full. Lucid dreaming? On cooldown, baby. It's part of the damn rotation. I am locked and loaded and ready to rez.

Thing is, I have been playing red mage for a while. And I love it! I do! But also it is not so complex. You make the bars even, you slidecast, you find new and creative ways to use your backflip. So when someone dies, it's a nice little change to the routine. (As long as I'm not in melee. If I'm in melee, the other interesting part of my rotation, you need to choose a better time to die.)

So when half the party dies and my mana is full, I am fucking ready. I'm raring. I've got a rez and a half off before our caller calls for a wipe. No, I say, I'm getting you up. But the damage will be too low, they say. Wipe it, they say. Stop being the red mage from that "save the party" post, they say. NO. THIS IS THE ONLY TIME IN RAID I FEEL ALIVE. YOU CAN WIPE THE RAID AFTER I PEEL YOU OFF THE FLOOR. I am but a silly little lad who does not make the big damage number or do the special mechanic or be important in the raid. But in this moment, this specific situation, I can and I will bring the entire raid back through the power of dualcast and adrenaline, for nothing more than the sheer pleasure of it.

Go ahead Red Mage, save the party.

[swappermanent]

Life in Retrospect (Part 3)

Staring into the mirror, with the necklace resting cool and heavy against my chest, I considered my next move. If I was going to convince the amulet—and myself—that this body was mine, I needed to make some changes, starting with the basics.

First things first, Mikey’s wardrobe was atrocious.

I rifled through his drawers and closet, finding an endless array of dry-fit shirts in bright, clashing colors and tank tops emblazoned with gym logos. Sure, being a gym bro was hot—I could see the appeal—but the looks were uninspired. He’d draw even more attention if he put in just a little effort.

“Time for a style upgrade,” I muttered, giving my reflection a grin that felt more confident than any expression I’d worn in years.

Memories surfaced of the days when I’d been known for my sharp sense of fashion—tailored suits, leather jackets, crisp shirts that turned heads on the street. I wasn’t about to step back into the polished looks of my old life; I needed something that fit this younger, edgier version of myself.

I hit the thrift stores like a man on a mission. Racks of vintage leather jackets, oversized sweaters, slim-fit jeans, and distressed tees called out to me. I practically cleaned out half a dozen stores, arms loaded with pieces that oozed effortless cool. My bank account took a serious hit, but I didn’t care. This was an investment—in keeping this life, this body.

“You’re gonna love this,” I whispered to the amulet, feeling it warm slightly against my skin.

Back at home, I tried everything on. A brown leather bomber jacket that fit like a second skin, vintage denim that hugged my legs just right, oversized sweaters that spoke of casual mornings at a café—I couldn’t help but admire the transformation. I looked hot as fuck.

The necklace vibrated against my chest, sending a shiver down my spine. Over the next few days, I noticed the dizzy spells became fewer and farther between, a sign that the amulet approved of the shifts I was making. But I knew this wasn’t enough.

Next, I tried changing up my day routines and friends. I started off by pulling away from the gym bro crowd and the endless banter about protein shakes and reps. Instead, I spent more time at cafes with people who shared my real interests, discussing books and philosophy. I went to art galleries, soaking in the quiet, contemplative energy that contrasted so sharply with the loud, boisterous nights out Mikey used to have.

But still, I felt that nagging doubt—the sense that it wasn’t enough. I was racking my brain, wondering what more I could do. I didn’t know Mikey well enough to pinpoint exactly what would be out of character, what would truly convince the amulet that I had made this body mine.

The answer was out there. I just had to find it.

---

One night, I found myself at a cozy little art event downtown with some of my new friends. The atmosphere was low-lit, filled with laughter and the quiet murmur of conversations over wine and soft jazz. I felt like I belonged here—a far cry from the sweaty gym floors and blaring music of Mikey’s usual haunts.

I’d been chatting up this guy at my table, a sharp, well-dressed guy named Ollie, who had a laugh that made my stomach do a flip every time I heard it.

Then, out of nowhere, it hit me—a realization that made me almost laugh out loud. Mikey wasn’t gay. There was no way he’d be flirting like this with a guy. This was exactly my chance to cement the swap.

leaned in, giving Ollie a smile that I knew, with Mikey’s rugged jawline and smoldering eyes, would have a hell of an effect. Sure enough, Ollie blushed, his gaze flickering down as I held his attention with just enough tension.

Eventually, we ended up heading back to my place. The anticipation buzzed between us, almost tangible, as we made our way up the stairs. I opened the door, pulling him in with a grin, and wasted no time.

The second the door closed, I reached for the hem of my shirt, peeling it off in one smooth motion. Ollie’s eyes went wide, his gaze magnetized by my bare chest, staring at the thick pecs that looked even better in this new, rough lighting. He was practically speechless, caught between awe and desire as he ran a hand up my chest.

“Damn,” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper, fingers tracing the defined lines of my muscles.

We moved to the bedroom, and the moment our bodies pressed together, the heat between us spiked. I guided Ollie onto the bed, pulling him close as he shifted onto his hands and knees, glancing back at me with excitement and just a hint of nervousness.

I took my time, positioning myself behind him, savoring the anticipation. With a firm hand, I stroked along his back, moving down over his shoulders and arms, then brushing over his toned torso. I could feel him relaxing under my touch, his body trusting me to lead. With a soft, reassuring whisper, I pressed the tip in, and he gasped, gripping the sheets.

“Relax,” I murmured, leaning down to trail a few kisses along his shoulder blades. My other hand moved to his biceps, kneading gently, helping him ease into the moment.

Slowly, I slid in a bit more, feeling him tense and then loosen as my hands worked their way over his muscles, calming him. I kept the pace unhurried, my hand still exploring his back, his shoulders, even reaching around to his chest, keeping him anchored in the moment.

Once he adjusted, I began moving, each thrust steady and deep. The sound of our breaths and the rhythm of my hips filled the room as we found a powerful flow.

I wrapped my hand around Ollie’s cock, stroking him slowly in time with my thrusts. He groaned, his breath coming in shuddering gasps as I picked up the rhythm, making sure he felt every sensation. It wasn’t long before he was practically writhing beneath me, his body responding to my touch, every inch of him pulsing with desire.

“Come for me,” I murmured in his ear, my voice low and coaxing. I wanted him to feel everything, to lose himself completely. And as I stroked him, watching the tension build in his face, his breathing hitched, his muscles tensing under my hands.

With a sharp gasp, Ollie finally came, his whole body trembling as he moaned, tightening around me. That sudden grip drove me over the edge. The intense pleasure hit me hard, and with a deep groan, I gave in, shuddering as I shot my load into his perky, smooth ass.

Laying back and catching my breath, the necklace pulsed against my chest, vibrating harder than it ever had before. I waited, half expecting something dramatic—a flash of light, maybe a jolt through my body that would make this transformation permanent. But, like before, nothing actually happened.

The next morning, as the first light filtered in through the blinds, I got dressed slowly, savoring every step. I slipped on one of my new outfits, a tight tank that clung to my shoulders, showing off my defined biceps, and fitted jeans that emphasized my strong legs. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I couldn’t help but admire the transformation—the way this body wore confidence like a second skin.

Ollie stirred on the bed, watching me with a sleepy smile as I flexed my arm a little, just to see if he’d notice. He did. His eyes widened slightly, and I could tell he liked the show. I walked over, leaned down, and kissed him slowly, savoring the warm feeling that spread through me at the touch.

“That was… amazing,” I said, holding his gaze. "I’d really love to see you again, like, on an actual date. What do you say?"

As the words left his mouth, the necklace around my neck flared up in a frenzy, vibrating and heating until it felt like it was radiating warmth through every inch of me. I felt cascades of pleasure as if I was having 10 orgasms all at once. In that moment, I knew, this body was mine forever.

It was the missing piece, I realized. Mikey hadn’t been the type to ask for a second date or care about much beyond the night itself. For him, a hasty exit before sunrise would’ve been enough. But by wanting something real, something lasting, I’d pushed just far enough out of character to claim this life as mine for good.

Ollie sat up, grinning, oblivious to my inner transformation, and ran a hand over my shoulder. “I’d like that too. A lot.” He flashed a look at my huge biceps. "So… when should we make this date happen?” he asked, a hint of mischief in his voice.

"How about this weekend?" I replied, pulling him in for another kiss before standing up to grab my shirt.

As I pulled it over my head, the necklace finally cooled, a final confirmation that I was here to stay. I felt lighter, stronger, more alive in this body than ever. I glanced back at Ollie with a smirk, already planning out the rest of the day, and I couldn’t help but think, Damn, it feels good to be Mikey.

[muffinsin]

Hi! I discovered your page recently and have been in LOVEEE with it ever since. It says your inbox is open, but getting full so i hope requesting something right now is okay! I was just wondering if you could do a dimitrescu sisters × teen sister reader? the reader is human and I think it would be cool to see how the sisters react and treat her (I think they would be really gentle because they're scared of scaring/hurting her) ty so much! <3 (I love your prompts)

Awhhh, this is such a cute, wholesome prompt! And funnily enough, I don’t think I’ve ever written HCs about a teen sister!🙌 I’m happy to hear ya like my prompts, hon :)

Let’s get into it🙌🥳

Masterlists

Bela

Bela is, by now, utterly used to her role as the eldest sister

And while she does consider and call Cassandra and Daniela her “little sisters”, they’re really not all that different as it comes to their ages

A difference of mere hours, really, biologically speaking

When she was a newborn fly spawn, they were newborn fly spawns

When she was a toddler, they were toddlers

When she was a teen, they were teens

When she turned into a (-responsible) adult, they did. Biologically speaking, of course. She’s certain especially Daniela hasn’t made it all the way there, at times

But, all in all, she’s very similar to her sisters as it comes to age, despite being the eldest and their older sister

And then, there’s you…

A new sibling, a new sister

A little sister

But…a real, far younger sister

A teen

A teen, whereas she has lived for centuries

Bela has been fond of you from the start. Sure, she wasn’t originally happy about getting another sister, but the moment she laid eyes on you and got to know you, she started to love you just as she loves and treasures and protects her sisters

At first, it’s very difficult for her to act as a sister, truthfully, rather than a mother

You’re just so…young, compared to her! It’s difficult for her not to get overly maternal, as she sometimes still tends to get with your older sisters

Bela tries to understand you, and your interests

That doesn’t mean she’s good at it, though. She doesn’t care much for things she deems a waste of time, and is hardly a troublemaker. This alone has her stray from anything that could be considered rebellious

She also has difficulty not telling on you to your mother when you do something, or to take matters into her own hands and scolds you

Technically, you know she’s supposed to do this, being the eldest and all

Still, it’s sometimes a little difficult for the two of you to connect

Especially with how unreachable Bela seems at times; so intelligent, such good manners. Loved or respected by nearly everyone despite her nature, purely because of how she presents herself

Mother’s heiress…

She seems so impossibly strong, in her own way. Of course, you partly look up to her. But it’s difficult to see yourself on the same level as her

Sometimes, you’re sure because of all this she must be Mother’s favorite, and it occasionally nabs at you, how you have no chance of getting to where she is

But, she loves you dearly, and you love her

She will always comfort and guide you, even help you grow

She’s your protector, in a way, helping you always

Especially when feelings get the better of you. She reassures you often; it’s okay to feel this and that, and that it’s perfectly normal to feel certain things at your age

She also puts you in your place when you’re in the wrong, though, gently telling you and ensuring you know: she still loves you after

And, actually, you find Bela gives amazing hugs, and while she isn’t the sister to hug without asking what’s wrong, you find comfort in that, too

Out of all of your sisters Bela is best at controlling her strenght

Which, sometimes, is a little unfortunate because she’s also the sister that refuses to wrestle with you for fun. Apparently, she doesn’t “see the point” in that

At least she feels utterly comfortable hugging you, knowing that she won’t hurt you

She would never hurt you

Cassandra

The first time she heard of having a sister, she was thrilled!

And when she met you the first time, the two of you got along instantly

Cassandra feels much less unreachable than her older sister

Much more- approachable

She’s sadistic, has a short temper- much like your mother, at times- and rough

But you love her, and she loves and treasures you

She’s the first to take you out on a hunt to the forest, is the one to teach you to fight and keep yourself safe

While she has a little more difficulty controlling her strength at times and therefore occasionally keeps her distance, she has never hurt you

Cassandra is, in her own way, a role model to you

She’s fierce and powerful

She easily takes down her prey and entertains you with her stories of her hunts and previous victims

She teaches you to be strong, teaches you what it means to be a Dimitrescu. And even when you can’t be strong, she’s strong for you, easily putting others in their place with a mere glance their way

Cassandra and you spend a lot of time together, and she’s genuinely interested in most you have to say

By now you know, she will not care for gossip or anything like that. The wrong sister for that, certainly. And you know, she won’t even bother pretending to listen to that

But, she’ll listen to all you’re genuinely passionate about, perhaps even participate if it’s for her

She encourages you to follow your hobbies and make the most of them

Like with her sisters, after all, Alcina allows you to choose at least one hobby and fully supports it. She will not stand for any of her daughters not pursuing anything, however

When you have difficulty choosing what could be fit for you, Cassandra is eager to help out

She shows you this and that, and is eager to try most new things with you

Cassandra is also the sister to turn to when you want to know what they and your mother were like a few centuries ago

The fun stuff, that is

She’ll tell you every detail she so easily remembers, occasionally also brag about things she did particularly well

Often, she’ll sprinkle in a few details you’re sure aren’t quite that true, but you don’t mind

You find, she also inspires you to be creative like that!

Speaking of little half truths here and there, Cassandra is the first to teach you how to lie and get away with it at the castle

Now, of course you’ve lied plenty times already in your life

But with Alcina, it seems impossible. Like she fully knows when you’re not being entirely honest

Even Bela seems to know, somehow, sometimes!

It’s infuriating, but Cassandra is quick to teach you

In return, she becomes about the only sister you are always truthful to

You never feel the need to lie to her, even when you’re planning on doing something stupid or risky

Often enough she’ll join in, or cover for you at least

When she does tell you not to do something, which is rare, you listen

You know, she means well, and doesn’t underestimate you or whatever you’re about to do

You value her opinion, and when she says not to do something, she tends to be right

Daniela

Daniela finds you utterly adorable, as she calls you

She doesn’t quite remember her “teen” years, really

But that’s okay

She’s every bit as playful and still has a bit of a habit to get herself into trouble, much like you do, occasionally

She likes to join you when you’re about to do something risky, and at times even is the one proposing it and whining to you about joining her

Of course, she will always keep you safe during those times

Though your mother is unhappy to say at the least when she catches you, her youngest, covered in dirt and blood from head to toe after your sister insisted throwing guts like snowballs is a blast!

In many ways, Daniela doesn’t quite feel like an older sister

She’s playful, a little immature, teasing, socially intelligent, and quite handsy with the maidens. She’s a little clingy and delusional, but always has your best interests at heart, the same as your other sisters

She always has some gossip to talk to you about, rambling about this and that she picked up while lounging and swarming about in the castle

She loves to read, and loves to share her favorite books with you

Unlike her sisters, she isn’t overly picky with her interests, either

She isn’t into mathematics or science. Aside from that, she’ll happily learn about all you’re interested in

She’ll participate in your hobbies, or lounge on your bed like a lazy cat while you ramble about your hobbies and fixations

She doesn’t mind at all. She loves to learn about new things, and remembers surprisingly much you tell her despite her short term memory span

Often, she remembers even more of your stories and ramblings than your other sisters do, as she’s genuinely interested in your hobbies, even when she has no clue about them

Daniela, in a way, feels like a best friend rather than a sister

She’s always there for you, will always protect and teach you. She’s silly, playful, will never say no to some good fun and often even convince you to “play” with the maidens or her sisters, seeing how much the two of you can annoy them until they notice

She teaches you to be strong too, yes, but perhaps even more so, Daniela has a way of teaching you how to get along with people

How to blend in with them, how to lure information from others by casually being around them

No, not by using some reverse psychology and what not like Bela. By listening. By being friendly. By making them ramble on their own

She teaches you to make friends, even with the reputation of your family, and how to effortlessly start conversations

And even when you can’t make a friend, she reminds you that you will always have your family

She teaches you, of course, also how to get what you want from Alcina

Generally, Alcina has a hard time saying no to any of her daughters. You’re all so precious to her, and there’s rarely a time she’ll deny a wish coming from one of you

Daniela, having been in the role of the youngest for the longest time and still having her sweet, pouty puppy eyes ready, teaches you how to get just about anything you want from your mother

Whether it’s clothing or toys (often in Daniela’s case those are servants), treats or anything from the outside world, she teaches you to properly ask for it

And yet; she has the hardest time controlling her strenght

She loves physical touch as a means to show her affection. She loves to hug her sisters even when they try to peel her away from them, acting all annoyed when they really aren’t, and she loves to wrap her arms around Alcina’s waist, hugging her whenever she can in exchange for some heat pats and scratches

With you, she must actively hold back

You’re…fragile

You’re human

You’re her little sister

She would never want to hurt you!

But, she can’t help it sometimes, and feels horrible when she hugs you and is just a tad bit too excited, causing her arms around you to be a little too tight

She always takes care of you after, her eyes wide and wet as she blinks away tears, feeling so utterly guilty for hurting you

You always reassure her; it’s not her fault

You still love her

She’s still your older sister

You still admire and look up to her

And it’s all it takes to have her smile widely again

[jak--ash]

Hey this latest episode started with nandor writing what seemed like a love letter to the guide. Before the season came out it was teased the guide was going to have an odd love interest. So help me Dog if they seriously just make guillermo stuck in this kinda-here-kinda-not limbo and have nandor actually go for the guide I'm going to personally write to Jermaine Clement and Taika Watiti for wasting our fucking time

[wifes-xxx]

There have been moments, especially when we open our hearts to a husband , where you have felt a distance between you. I know It's as if the door to your heart opens just halfway, holding back parts of you out of fear, caution, or maybe something you now can't quite understand. It struck you deeply like a slap, and you couldn't help but fee this realisation, it sounds like you are being self centred "I can't believe you would be someone so selfish. That you cant give yourself over completely to your relationship. What a dried up and broken woman you have become"

The beauty of exploring love languages and embracing our vulnerabilities lies in their reflection of real-life relationships. These concepts encourage us to examine our own connections, fostering a deeper understanding and appreciation for the complexities of love. It's an invitation to reflect on how we communicate affection and how we can better align with our loved ones, paving the way for more fulfilling relationships

Have you noticed sometimes when you do want it from a your guy , it almost feels like you’re invisible to him?

Are you nodding along?

Has this happened to you?

You already know you’re smitten. With your husband, only…you’re not bold and slutty, so you don’t feel comfortable just walking over and dropping to your knees and unzipping his pants and pulling it out, or telling him that you’re horny and need fucking… now!

So what can you do because you know it’s insulting to him for you to be a boring prude?

It’s fairly easy to get attention, but that doesn’t in any way guarantee that he will want to fuck you. Just something to be aware of. Once you have his attention, you’ll want to really notice what his reaction to you is. Does he smile while listening to every word, or is he busier checking his phone than talking to you? The sharper your observation skills, the less time you waste on knowing how to please him.

Grow up…you’re acting like you’re in middle school. You’re not. There are better, high-value ways to get his attention. Be his wife, his woman and his lover. Show him what you have and let him enjoy you.

Never be boring or distant.

Instead make yourself interesting and be interested in him and his desires. Learn what makes him hard.

Think of each moment like the dating game, you may be insecure about flirting or expressing your interest. It will take practice, but you’ve got this! Show some sexual aggression and really let him know what you have in mind. Use your brain. Or play open docile and ditzy. If it makes him hard and your feeling horny and wet, know in your heart its working for you. Remember that.

Be his good girl a figure out what turns him on and makes him hard, and interested. Usually, within a few minutes of conversation and , you can deduce this. Obviously, look for a bulge, but also keep an eye out for signs of breast gaze and lip gazing what part of your body is he focused upon! Display yourself with abandon like the women these men look at on Tumblr. They are interested atvtmhem for a reason. Forgot you self and think about why men masturbate to these kind of women pictures.

Let it change you prudish self.

Keep the conversation going once you have his attention, and make it clear that you’re not just being normal friendly (you’re being flirty friendly!). Use your language in and out of the bedroom to keep him engaged.

“You make me so wet”

“Never Stop”

“That feels amazing”

“Does that feel good?”

“I can feel your dick throbbing”

“I want you here right now”

“I want You so bad”

“I was thinking about you today”

“ oh fuck me, Just Like That”

“You make me want to scream”

“Fill me up”

” I'm curious honey what porn makes you. Hard“

“Fuck me like you mean it”

“Harder”

“I feel tiny in your arms”

“I love you”

“I love your dick”

“I want your cum”

“Kiss Me”

“Make me cum baby”

“Seeing you right after a workout”

“Taste Me”

“Your cock is stretching me out”

“I'm not wearing my panties today“

Feel free to share you favourites with me.

Oh God, this felt amazingly good to write. I am sooo ready for him.

S_XXX

[d0rothydraws]

Supportive sugar daddy sylus.

You were exhausted.

You picked up a new position at work. Figuring it would be just a little different you weren't worried. But little did you know, it was basically a whole new job. New people, new tasks, new schedule. Everything was different. And you were drained.

Sylus was supportive as always. He made his chef cook you meals so you could come home to a hot fresh meal every night. Everything to your clothes laid out on the freshly changed bed so you could change after you showered together.

Which he insisted on.

With the new schedule you seen him less, had less time to text. It honestly broke your heart. And though you knew that it was a better position, better pay, one thing rang in your mind, a conversation you had months prior to now.

"Sweetie, you know you can quit, right?" His voice rang in your head as if he was saying it right in front of you. As fresh as the day he said it. "You would have all the time for any hobby you'd want to pursue. Why not learn to make those plushies you like so much?"

His words rang in your ears. Your body stopped moving as you felt a surge of hope. But what would that mean for how people see you? For your reputation. Your mind started to swim with thoughts of urgency and self doubt.

Not noticing Sylus' moving closer he cupped your face in his large hands, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"I will take care of you, sweetie. Don't waste your time thinking of what others think. And if you end up wanting to go back to work, then that's fine too." He said kissing your forehead. "But just say the word and I will take care of anything you need."

You didn't want to jump into a rash decision but eventually you did agree. With all the extra time on your hands you were able to take up hobbies that you could never even dream of doing before. You never had to worry about the price of the materials either. Sylus would take you to the store and as you dumped the things you needed into the cart, he would add even more saying

"It might come in handy."

You had a whole room in his house dedicated to your supplies. You needed it with how much he bought. And if you lost interest and wanted to move on he didn't say anything. The supplies donated to a charity or someone who needs them.

[marzipanandminutiae]

the one thing I am full-bore conspiracy theorist about?

daily contact lenses

or, well, not their existence, period. they're a valid health option that is best for some people, medically. but the sheer aggressiveness with which they're being pushed nowadays

the last few times I went to the eye doctor for my annual check-up, she was HEAVILY on my case to switch to dailies. like, to the point of arrogance and condescension when I said I preferred to stick with monthlies (I've worn contacts since I was 12, for reference). I also posted about it on a forum and got massive negativity in response, as well as being talked down to by someone claiming to be an optometrist himself

now if this were like...anti-vaxxer sentiment I'd understand that reaction. but from what I've heard, while monthlies do carry a higher risk of eye infections and such, they're not medically unsound or unsafe across the board. I'm willing to accept that risk, and since science has not found that they're terrible and should immediately be discontinued, I feel like my wishes should be respected and not belittled

point two: plastic waste. they say it's somehow less than using monthlies, but frankly I just don't see how that's possible. 365 of those little eye chips- times two! -and their packaging, add up to less than a case and a bottle of solution every few months, plus 24 contacts and their packaging? it doesn't make sense to me, and it doesn't help that I mostly see contact lens websites repeating this "fact." of course all contacts produce plastic waste, and I'd be perfectly willing to accept this as one of those You Have To Consume; You Just Decide What Areas Of Your Life Are Optimal For Minimization of Waste And What Aren't things, if dailies weren't being pushed so hard

(also I found two studies showing that monthly-replacement soft lenses produce less plastic waste than daily disposables. which, like. yes, this should be obvious, but here we are. granted, that's only two, and both studies emphasize that dailies and their accoutrements can be recycled, but see below)

some big companies have "contact recycling programs" but like. who's to say that's not greenwashing? where's the oversight? where are the investigations into what these programs actually DO? god knows we've been there before with recycling and corporations trying to pull the nylon-poly-blend Vegan Wool(TM) over our eyes

they're also more expensive than monthlies, which like. does not lend a positive slant to optometrists pushing them so stridently

on top of that, I and some other monthly users have noted that our contacts aren't lasting as long as they used to. for me, it was 17-18 years of smooth sailing with barely any problems, and as of like a year ago my contacts barely last two weeks without clouding up, ripping, chipping at the edges, causing my vision to blur, becoming uncomfortable...my brand did change around that time, so I hope it's just that, and the sample size of other monthly users I've pooled is VERY small. but it sure seems interesting that they suddenly started pushing a product that doesn't last long enough for people to notice low quality, around the time that at least some users of the longer-lasting version start having problems

you're pooh-poohing all of my concerns- which are indeed backed up by science, it seems! -with a "fix" that relies on big companies being honest about recycling, to push me from a non-ideal but still medically sound option to another that makes you more money?

I'm normally a pretty grounded person but I'm full-on tinfoil hat about this one

[phannie-by-night]

One thing I don't think we appreciate enough about dnp is that they never waste your time. Their videos are a tight 15-30 minutes unless there was absolutely nothing they could cut. Other youtubers I'll start some video and be like this is mildly interesting. Why is it an hour and a half long

[littlefankingdom]

So happy this post came back on my dash so I can rant about an idea I have.

Tony Zucco would be the vilain because this Batman's movie follows Dick's pov.

Batman is like Spiderman, everyone knows his story at this point, telling it again is a waste of time. And, Batman’s movies tend to concentrate on a love interest instead of his family, which is just not very Batman. So, Robin's time! Through Dick's story, we can retell Bruce's story, and shows how they connect and how well Bruce can understand and support this kid.

You follow Dick Grayson as he loses his parents and this stranger comforts him, before trying to take him in. It's strange, because this nice guy is very different from what other adults say he is. Aside from that, Dick is craving justice, so he goes out to get it, and he meets the Batman. On one side, we demonstrate Dick developing detective skills, on the other, we demonstrate him developing the fighting spirit. The combinaison of both is what is needed to be a bat. As the story progresses, he discovers that Bruce is Batman, and Bruce has to accept to have a child following him around on rooftops. They bond through their different identities, Bruce showing how much he understand Dick in a way nobody else does.

The goals here is to make a parallel between Bruce's story and Dick's story and to demonstrate why and how Bruce will become so important for Dick. When the movie ends, people must think "they are not father and son YET, but they will, they are made for each others."

I need the softer side of Batman to be shown to the adult audience SO BAD.

You get free rein and a blank check to write the next Batman movie but you can’t use any villains who have appeared in any previous live-action Batman movies. That means you can’t use Joker, Penguin, Catwoman, Riddler, Two-Face, Poison Ivy, Dr. Freeze, Scarecrow, or Bane.

Which Batman villain stars in your movie

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐑𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐈𝐭 (𝟐) !

— pairing; vil schoenheit x ramshackle! reader

— summary; vil's dad thinks you're dating, and comes down to meet you

— notes; here is part 2, part 1 is here. please donate to my kofi or consider commissioning me if you like my work bc im broke and need cash. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ It’s a bright afternoon at Night Raven College when Eric Venue arrives at Night Raven College unannounced, causing a minor frenzy among students and staff alike. They’re starstruck; after all, seeing a famous actor on campus is a rarity, and Eric is surrounded by a crowd of adoring fans as he makes his way to Pomefiore.

❋ Vil, however, is not thrilled to see him. His father’s obviously come here to snoop, and Eric’s wide grin tells Vil there’s no escaping him today.

❋ Ever the professional actor, Eric insists he’s just here for a little visit. “Can’t a father see his son and stroll around the college campus for a while?”

❋ Vil reluctantly obliges, but he’s wary. Every time they pass a group of students (many of them gawking and staring and pointing), Eric gives each and every one of them a careful once-over, as if expecting you to magically appear. Vil notices and gives his father a dirty look, but Eric just shrugs, the very picture of innocence.

❋ Despite Vil’s attempts to keep his father far far away from you, your paths do eventually cross. You run into both father and son as you’re heading down to the cafeteria for lunch, and Eric’s eyes immediately light up with recognition. He strides over before Vil can stop him, extending a hand with a charming smile. “Ah, you must be the famous Ramshackle student! I’m Eric Venue, Vil’s father. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

❋ You’ve seen exactly zero of his movies. Thanks to Ace and Deuce giving you the lowdown, all you know about this guy is that he’s some big star — Leonardo DiCaprio level, maybe? Not that anyone here would know who he is . . .

❋ Realising that Eric’s waiting for a reply, you quickly recover, shaking his hand with a slightly awkward but friendly smile. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Venue.”

❋ Eric immediately wastes no time in drawing you into a conversation, asking you about your interests, your studies, and — much to Vil’s chagrin — what you think of his son. He’s so friendly and warm, it’s almost like talking to an old friend, rather than a famous celebrity.

❋ (The shy tinge to your smile, and the way your voice softens when you talk about Vil doesn’t go unnoticed by Eric, and only serves to confirm his suspicions.)  

❋ Vil is unnaturally tense through it all, a bow string about to snap. It’s almost as though he’s debating grabbing his father and making a break for it, public image be dammed. But instead, Vil settles for hovering beside you both, looking mortified and slightly flustered when his father asks you something just a little too personal.

❋ Finally, Vil manages to pull his father aside, insisting that they should let you get to lunch (Vil makes eyes at you and you take the hint, dutifully acting as though you’re absolutely starving).

❋ Eric sees right through your little act, but lets you leave with a wave and a laugh, expressing his desire to see you again. Afterwards, Eric turns to Vil with a knowing smile, quietly whispering, “I like them,” like it’s the final stamp of approval for the relationship Vil absolutely refuses to admit he’s in.

[hidingwhere]

Bear Hybrid Price AU Part 3

Price fell asleep peacefully that night in his bedroom knowing you had a somewhat decent nest to sleep in that night.

He woke up that morning, bringing you a cup of water that he set down on your small bedside table. However, he couldn’t hold back the sigh that left his mouth. The wall of blankets he had built for you the night before was a complete mess. Maybe you were just a naturally messy sleeper.

“Dunno what happened,” you mumbled sleepily in reply when he asked about it. In fact, you didn’t seem bothered at all.

It was then he decided to take you shopping that day; let you pick out your own blankets to potentially spark some nest building interest in you. That’s how he finds the both of you in the middle of a large homeware shop, stood in the cushion and blanket section. Price lifts you up into the trolley he’s pushing around, rubbing your small bear ears gently to comfort your anxiety and ease your nerves that he can feel radiating off you.

They relax under his fingertips, his hand almost engulfing the top of your head due to its large size.

“Feel this one, sweet.” He holds out a beige blanket for you to run your fingers across. When you give him no reaction back, he begins thinking this whole trip was a waste of time. Except, on the third blanket, you don’t let go of it.

“S’really soft.”

He immediately turned his attention to you. “You like it? Feels nice?”

You nod in reply to Price’s question, crouching down in the trolley to place the blanket down by your feet. “It feels nice. Do you want one?”

Price laughs at your question. “No, little one, I’m alright. I think I’ve got enough stuff for my nest.”

When you arrived home, you hurried up the stairs, the blanket (which Price had taken out of the packaging) was trailing behind you as you scurried to your room. Price slowly followed behind you, following the end of the blanket that was being dragged on the floor. He leaned against the doorway as he watched you rearrange the blanket in multiple different ways on the bed before settling on spreading it over the whole mattress to lay on.

“Comfy?” He asked with a smile.

“Hmm,” you hummed contently, figure forming into one of a small bear cub. Your little legs stretched out in front of you, paws making biscuits in the blanket before curling up into a ball. He loved you and your little mid-day naps.

[professorsnape394]

DAY 12: Loving in Secret

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

Rating: 😡

Prompt: Victory

Summary: Y/N is determined to get Severus to admit to his feelings for her.

A/N: Obsessed with Jealous Snape!! I think I may have to write more like this, let me know if that's something you might be interested in.

Warnings:  Jealousy. Duels. Injury.

Word Count: 3194

Credits to Gif Creator.

Meeting with the Order of the Phoenix had always a tiresome day for Severus. While he dreaded spending the day in the home of his childhood bully and long-time enemy, Sirius Black, he was grateful for the time he was able to spend with the one woman who brought a smile to his face.

Y/N had been seeing Severus for a few months now, though they had never actually made anything official. They agreed to a casual relationship at first, but they both knew there was more to it than that. Her feelings for the wizard only grew with each passing day, but still Severus refused to admit he felt anything other than lust for the young woman.

Still, she revelled in the nights they spent together, however fleeting they seemed. It was hard for them to gain any alone time together given her less than ideal living situation with his childhood enemy coupled with the fact he refused to invite her into his home. Still, they managed to steal a few moments together here and there.

Today’s meeting was particularly agonising for Severus, nothing of note being said that he didn’t already know. Mad Eye’s voice faded into a singular drone, as Severus leaned back lazily in his chair. His thoughts on nothing but the woman across from him. It had been too long since he had felt her hands on his body; the softness of her skin intertwining with his rough calloused hands, he missed the sweetness of her mouth on his, the sound of her gasps when his hand found its way between her legs, but he especially missed the drooling mess she became when he fucked her hard and rough, his hand covering her mouth to ensure they wouldn’t make a sound.

Y/N tried hard not to look in Severus’ direction to avoid suspicion, regardless she could still feel the way his gaze raked over her body, his mind wandering to places they should not go at a time like this. A red-hot flush crept its way up her neck, the thought of Severus checking her out so publicly sent a rush straight to her core. She cleared her throat and sat up straighter, attempting to dissuade Severus’ glances. He did not take the hint.

Idly pacing around the room like a hyperactive dog, Severus couldn’t help but feel irritated by the mere presence of Sirius Black in his own home, though when the man turned his attention on Y/N his blood began to boil.

Sliding up behind her, Black placed a hot mug of tea in front of Y/N; in innocent gesture from any other, but Snape knew Black always had a motive. The young witch flashed his rival a sweet smile, thanking him for her beverage. Confirming his suspicions, Sirius lingered behind Y/N resting a heavy hand on each of her shoulders, gently massaging. Severus had to hold back his primal instincts, forcing himself not to curse the man for even thinking he can touch what is his. Sirius didn’t move his hands for the remainder of the meeting, neither did Severus’ gaze on them.

The meeting continued for a further forty-five minutes before its members were finally free. However, Molly Weasley had insisted she make everyone a meal before they left, so the house was particularly more crowded than normal.

Y/N shot Severus a look, telling him to meet her upstairs while everyone else seemed preoccupied with chatter. The Potion’s Master wasted no time hesitating, moving the second she gave the order, stealthily disappearing up to her bedroom.

Y/N was not so lucky in her escape. Sirius watched on closely as she swiftly exited the room.

“Oh, thank God.” Y/n gasped at the sight of Snape standing in the middle of her bedroom. Closing the door she hurried towards him, throwing her hands over his head and pulling her body close to his. Instinctively Severus hands fell to her hips, though quickly began to roam when her lips met his.

Balancing on her tiptoes to match his height, she moaned into his mouth.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

“It’s been too long.” His words were muffled by her neck as he kissed his way down to her collar bone, nipping the skin with his teeth once or twice.

She let out a single sharp gasp; the kind he loved so much and he found himself dreaming of regularly.

“How much time do we have?” Severus rasped, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had gone awry.

“Not long. Molly said dinner will be out shortly.”

“We’ll have to be quick then.”

Y/N groaned at the prospect. They were forever having to rush their time together, just once she wanted to be able to savour her time with him, maybe then he would actually stick around after sex and she might have the chance to discuss their feelings for each other. As it were, the couple were resigned to hot and heavy meet ups in secret, providing Severus with the perfect excuse to keep her at arm’s length.

“Don’t you think we should just tell people? I’m tired of sneaking around behind everyone’s back.”

Severus nuzzled into the crook of her neck, sucking softly on her skin.

“We’re not telling anyone, because there is nothing to tell. No one needs to know that we’re sleeping together, Y/N.”

She pulled away from him to look him in the eye.

“But what if it becomes more?”

“It won’t.” He stated firmly.

“But –“

“We’ve spoke about this Y/N.”

Her heart dropped despite expecting nothing less; Severus had always made his intentions with her very clear; it was foolish of Y/N to hope otherwise.

Snape made to unbuckle his belt, just as there came a knock at the door.

The pair exchanged a panicked glance.

“Y/N.” Sirius called from the other side of the door. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, thanks. I just came up to look for my wand.” She attempted to dissuade him.

“Do you need any help looking?” The door handle twitched under his grip.

“No, thanks! I’ll be down in a minute.”

The door, thankfully, remained closed. Sirius footsteps faded as he made his way back down the stairs.

Severus was on her in an instant, his hands raking through her tangled mess of hair, capturing her mouth in an aggressive kiss.

Y/N moaned once more, savouring the way his tongue dominated her mouth.

“I have to go.” She sighed, reluctantly. Sirius would be expecting her back down any second, if she didn’t show, he was sure to come up again.

It was Severus’ turn to groan; the tightness of his trousers had become almost too much to bear. It had been so long since their last session, and now who knows when they would next get a moment together.

“I’m sorry. Stay for dinner, I might be able to escape after that.”

Reluctantly, Severus agreed to her offer. Promising to follow shortly behind once she left.

Unsurprisingly, the kitchen was swarmed with people. Countless Weasley’s and numerous other Order members took up the majority of seats around the table. Y/N and Sirius opted to stand on the outskirts of the table, knowing there would be plenty of left overs for them to have once everyone left. Which allowed Severus to slip into the remaining seat practically unnoticed.

Severus sat straight in his chair, arms crossed, eyes laser focused on the couple huddled on the other side of the room. Y/N and Sirius leaned against the kitchen cabinets, giggling together like a couple of school children. Snape watched as Sirius leaned into his friend, brushing aside the loose strand of hair, and whispering something in her ear. Y/N threw her head back and cackled to the sky. It occurred to Snape you had never laughed so hard at anything he had said before, sending a burning feeling of jealousy to his gut. He watched on as Y/N placed her had on the centre of Sirius chest, an attempt to steady herself from her bout of hysteria. Severus jaw clenched.

Finally able to calm herself down, Y/N stalked the length of the table, checking out the food on offer. Severus eyes followed the woman intensely until she came to a stop directly behind him.

“Something bothering you?” She whispered in his ear, noticing the tension coursing through his body.

Severus remained silent, already wary that by standing next to each other they were exposing themselves. She could tell her relationship with Sirius pissed Severus off, but he would never admit it. If he did, he would have to tell her why it bothered him so much. And she knew he was not ready to admit to anything yet. Y/N stole a forkful of carrots from his plate and continued her round of the table.

Sirius joined the woman in her hunt for scraps, the two of them lurking around like a couple of vultures. While, Y/N was simply focused on stuffing as much food into her mouth as possible, Sirius’ attention remained solely on her. When she bent to stick her fork into a bowl of roast potatoes, Sirius rested a hand on the small of her back, keeping it there to draw her closer to him. Severus watched on furiously, his nostrils flaring at the sight. Y/N bit into a large roast potato and moaned appreciatively. Severus mind wandered to an inappropriate place and it was clear Sirius’ did the same.

“My God, Molly, those potatoes are amazing. What did you put in them?”

Severus went deaf to the world as Y/N held her forkful of potato out for Sirius to take a bite from. He took hold of her wrist, bringing her hand up to his mouth, and made intense eye contact while he slipped the potato from its tines.

Severus’ hands balled into fists and his teeth ground together. It was everything he could do to stop himself from lashing out at the man he already despised.

 Either this woman was deliberately trying to drive him mad or she truly saw nothing wrong with her actions; either option was maddening to him.

Severus almost hit his breaking point was when Sirius used his thumb to swipe a drop of gravy from the corner of Y/N’s mouth, bringing it back to her lips to lick.

All idle chatter stopped at the sound of Snape’s chair screeching across the hardwood floors. At risk of exposing their casual relationship, Severus stormed out of the kitchen.

Y/N wasn’t shocked by his reaction. In fact, she was so close to breaking him it almost made her giddy. There was no hiding his feelings for her when this was how he reacted.

After dinner, Y/N helped Molly clear up while everyone else retired to the Livingroom. No one dared speak a word to the brooding Potion’s Master who sat stewing in a single armchair by the fire. To be honest everyone was shocked he was still here, but no one was brave enough to question it; Except Sirius.

“Still here, Snivellus? Thought you’d have slithered off back to that hovel of yours.”

“At least I’m able to slither anywhere, Black. You set one foot outside, and it’s straight back to Azkaban. Tell me, who’s a better roommate? Y/N or the dementors.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m that bad, Severus.” Y/N scoffed at his comparison, shooting him a stern glare as she returned from the kitchen.

“I wasn’t meaning like that.” He sighed to himself.

“Don’t worry about it. Sirius and I have a good thing going here, let’s hope he won’t be returning to Azkaban any time soon, shall we?”

Severus said nothing. He hated the fact you lived with his worst enemy, but he what he hated even more was you defending Sirius over him. The sly grin on the other man’s face showed he had won this round.

Y/N perched on the arm of the chair next to Sirius, finding every other chair occupied.

“Here. Take my seat.” Severus jumped up from his spot on the armchair.

“No need, Snivellus.” Sirius stopped Y/N in her tracks. “There’s plenty of room for her right here.” He budged up a few inches, patting the space next to him. His gaze remained fixed on Snapes, a challenge that said whoever’s offer you took would be the victor.  

Eyes flicking between the two men Y/N had a choice to make. While she didn’t like to see Severus defeated by childhood bully, the obvious answer was to sit with Sirius. Not only would everyone get a seat, but doing so would further rile Snape up, maybe then he would be ready to admit to his feelings for her.

“Sit back down, Severus. I’ll be fine here.” She slipped into the edge of the couch; her thighs pushed right up against her friend’s.

Sirius’ grin grew wider at the second small victory. He placed his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her into his chest.

Severus’ jaw clenched once more. The sight of Sirius resting his arm on her so confidently had him seeing red.

“Has it ever occurred to you, Black, that the woman might not want your grubby paws all over her.” He spat.

“That woman has a name, and a voice too come to think of it. I’m sure if Y/N felt in any way uncomfortable around me she would say as much.”

“Perhaps she is just being polite.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Are you jealous, Snape?” Sirius laughed, realisation hitting him. “Are you jealous that a girl like Y/N is not repulsed by the thought of me touching her, as she would you.” Sirius placed an arm on Y/N’s knee to drive home his point.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Snape scoffed.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Severus fought back the urge to lash out at him, standing slowly from his chair once again.

“It seems I have overstayed my welcome.” His tone was eerily calm.  

Sirius smirked, basking in his victory.

“You always have been all bark, Severus. Next time you’re here remember your place in this house; you are not wanted.”

“The next time I’m here, Black.” Severus sneered. “I’ll be laughing at your pathetic attempts to win Y/N over, Then I’ll take her upstairs and fuck her until the only thing she knows how to say is my name. MY name Black, not yours.”

The room fell silent at the Professor’s words, everyone’s attention focusing in on him and Sirius.

Molly threw a hand over her mouth in shock, quickly trying to usher her children from the room.  

Sirius stood from his seat, pointing his wand in the direction of the Potion’s Master.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“I said; I’m going to fuck her in your house, while she’s screaming my name and begging for more because she loves the feel of my cock so much.”

A .. flash of light shot from the end of Sirius’ wand, an electric pulse buzzing through the air. Snape deflected it with ease.

The room quickly emptied, leaving only Severus, Sirius and Y/N remaining.

Sirius waited for Snape to take it shot, but it never came. This only angered Sirius more, causing him to send another handful of spells flying his way. Severus deflected each one with a simple movement of his hand.

“You think I’m lying?” Severus taunted. “Ask her yourself.”

Sirius gaze flicked over to Y/N for no more than a second before he continued raging spells in Snape’s direction.

Y/N finally shook herself from her frozen state.

“Sirius stop!” She yelled, watching him send endless curses Snape’s way.

Her friend took no notice of her, continuing to his battle with her lover.

Bored of remaining on defence, Severus finally threw a spell at Sirius. The marauder managed to deflect but stumbled back from the sheer force of the curse.

In an instant there were spells flying back and forth between the men while Y/N watched on helplessly from the side lines.

Seeing Sirius weaken against Severus’ power, had Y/N panicking that someone was truly about to be hurt. Knowing the two shared a sordid history, it was unlikely that either wizard would accept defeat before the other was forced to submit.

“Severus, please stop this.” She ran at him, pulling roughly on his robes to get his attention. “Stop!”

Distracted that Y/N might get caught in the crossfires of the duel, Severus attempted to push her behind him and out of the line of fire. But to no avail, the witch fought against his arm, refusing to surrender to his protection.

Y/N rounded on Severus, pushing roughly at his chest in a last-ditch effort to end the fight.

Despite being unable to hold off Snape’s spells for much longer, Sirius refused to give up without a fight; his spells coming in faster with each passing second.

Losing focus on the battle, Severus’ attention was taken over by trying to keep Y/N safe. Abandoning his wand, he gripped the woman by her wrists and dragged her to the side. Foolishly Snape did not consider that Black would not have the same concern for her safety and another spell headed in their direction. Snape pulled Y/N tight to his chest, covering her with as much of his body as he possible.

Severus winced as pain lashed across his arm. His now cut up sleeve becoming wet with blood.

“Severus.” Y/N yelped, grabbing onto his hand. “Are you hurt, let me see it.”

She took Snape’s arm in his examining the severity of his wounds. They were deep and showed no signs of clotting.

Sirius watched on from the other side of the room, panting breathlessly with exertion. Y/N spun on him, furiously.

“What the hell did you do?”

Sirius remained speechless.

“You shouldn’t have gotten in the way.” Snape snapped, regaining her attention.

“I was trying to stop you from hurting each other.”

“That worked out well, didn’t it?” He glared down at her.

“Stop it, Severus.” She warned, knowing he was trying to deflect from the fact he was hurt.

“I’m sorry.” He admitted, stroking her cheek with his good hand.

“He was telling the truth?” Sirius finally huffed, watching the scene unfold between the two.

“Sirius, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you but-“

“Are you together?”

Severus and Y/N exchanged a hesitant glance.

“No.”

“Yes.” Y/N turned to Severus in shock.

“But Severus you said-“

“Forget what I said. I’ve spent all night watching what it looks like to have another man flirting with you because he thinks you’re single. I refuse to spend another moment watching that. You’re mine, Y/N, in every way that counts. And I want everyone to know it.”

“Do you mean it?” She looked up at him hopefully.

Severus nodded firmly, tucking that one rouge piece of hair behind her ear before bringing his mouth to hers.

“Then let’s go tell everyone. And maybe heal your arm while we’re at it?”

“Whatever you want.” He smiled.

Sirius may have gotten the upper hand in the duel, but ultimately it was Severus who was victorious in this battle.

[goldsainz]

# HIGH INFIDELITY — CHAPTER ONE !

SERIES MASTERLIST !

001. SUMMARY !

✯ no matter what you do or who you’re with, rafe is the thorn in your side that persists.

002. WARNINGS !

✯ drinking, rafe’s a bitch.

003. NOTE !

✯ the italics part is meant to be past, normal is present. not a lot of rafe in this part, but we’re building up the tension, bear with me guys. also this is short n’ sweet, but it was either this or waiting like a week sooo 🤗

word count : 3,1k

Summer is, without a doubt, your favourite season of the year—a time when everything seems a little brighter, warmer, and full of promise. But above all, it’s the chance for romance that makes it truly special. As the breeze grazes your skin, you're struck with all the endless possibilities for a breezy, passionate fling. Summer brings not just warmth, but the promise of memories waiting to be made.

Perhaps that is why this summer feels different, why you're filled with a sensation you are not used to. Because, in true you fashion, you cannot help but fall for the first guy that makes eye contact with you. It’s as if that single look, just a fleeting connection, has already set something in motion within you. It doesn't really matter who they are, you just hope they're decent enough that when the summer ends you won't wallow until the next one.

Despite everything you’ve always been told—that Kooks and Pogues live in separate worlds, that some lines are best left uncrossed—you can’t help but feel all that advice slip away in a single moment. A single glance across the bonfire, a glint of warmth and interest in his eyes, has you questioning every cautionary tale you've ever heard. 

He lifts his hand in a simple wave, and without thinking, you lift yours in return. He smiles, and you find yourself smiling back, helpless against the pull he seems to have over you. It’s such a small exchange, yet it sends a thrill through you. So simply, your heart is already in the hands of a Kook that probably doesn't even know your name.

For a single moment, just when you finally let your guard down and begin to lose yourself in the summer night, you feel a hard shove against your shoulder. The unexpected force nearly sends you toppling, and you stumble awkwardly to keep your footing. A quick flash of irritation floods your mind, and as you turn, you see the culprit—and, oh, if it isn’t the most predictable sight in the world.

It’s Rafe Cameron. Of course, it is. He moves through the crowd like he owns it, barely glancing your way, as if you’re invisible, or worse, just an obstacle on his path to whatever or whoever he’s fixated on. 

“Watch it, Kook!” You shout at him, your voice sharp, as you glare down at the mess now soaking into the sand, the drink he so casually spilled with his careless shove. Typical Rafe—he couldn’t just bump into you and keep walking; no, he had to leave a mark, a small reminder of how easy it is for him to disrupt whatever, or whoeever, is in his way.

There’s no point in trying to get Rafe to acknowledge his mistakes. He wouldn’t care, and honestly, why waste the energy? Annoyed, you make your way toward the drink stand, trying to shake off the aggravation and enjoy what’s left of the night. The makeshift bar is stocked with copious amounts of beer, a few murky-looking bottles of whiskey, and vodka that looks questionably watered down. You sigh, filling a red cup and trying to hold on to a sliver of the excitement you felt earlier. Maybe it’s time to call it a night, to forget the rude shove and, disappointingly, to forget the boy you shared glances with.

“Hey,” a voice interrupts as you lift the cup to your lips, pulling you from your thoughts. You look up, and there he is—the guy from across the bonfire, standing right in front of you, his expression soft but earnest. “I’m sorry about him,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Huh?” The word slips out, and for a moment, you forget all about the spilled drink, the scowl on your face, even Rafe Cameron’s entitled shove. The memory of the night seems to blur, leaving just this moment, this exchange. You’re left with that same rush from earlier, only more intense now, standing close enough to see the way the firelight reflects in his eyes. 

“He shoved you, right?” he asks, raising his voice slightly so it cuts through the noise around you. There’s a hint of concern in his eyes, and he leans in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of saltwater and something earthy, maybe cedar. “Or did I mistake you for someone else?”

“No, no,” you reply, shaking your head, a small, sheepish smile creeping onto your face despite yourself. “That was me, unfortunately. Rafe Cameron’s idea of saying ‘excuse me,’ I guess.”

He laughs, a low sound that somehow makes the rest of the chaotic night fade into the background. “Sounds about right,” he says with a shrug, like he knows exactly the kind of person Rafe is—and isn’t surprised in the slightest. His gaze lingers on you, though, holding a warmth and sincerity that feels like a stark contrast to everything you just experienced. It’s as if he’s actually seeing you, not just some girl who got shoved around in the crowd.

“So… can I get you another drink?” he asks, nodding toward your mostly empty cup. “You know, as a ‘sorry for my obnoxious friend’ kind of thing.”

"I don’t even know your name,” you say, keeping your tone casual, though you can feel a flicker of heat rising in your cheeks. Of course, you do. But he doesn’t need to know that. Not yet, anyway.

He raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes as if he’s caught on to your feigned innocence but decides to play along. “Is that so?” he asks, a grin curving on his lips. “Well, then. I guess that makes us strangers, doesn’t it?”

You bite back a smile, shrugging, as if the flutter in your chest is no big deal. “I suppose it does.”

He extends his hand, the light from the bonfire casting a warm glow on his face. “I’m Joshua, but you can call me Josh.” he says, as though you hadn’t already heard the name whispered among your friends a hundred times. “And you are?”

“YN,” you say softly, letting your name slip past your lips like a secret, as if saying it too loudly might break the spell of this moment.

“Well, YN,” he drawls, your name slipping off his lips like honey, rich and warm. Somehow, in the noise and firelight, it sounds sweeter coming from him than you’ve ever heard it before. “Can I get you a drink?”

You hesitate, just for a second, but then you nod, feeling a lightness in your chest that hadn’t been there before. “I’d like that, yeah,” you say, and suddenly, youre not so ready for the night to end.

As you lie peacefully on the beach, your head resting on Josh’s chest and the sun’s warm rays caressing your skin, a deep contentment settles over you. The waves roll in rhythmically, their soft crashing mixing with the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. 

Josh’s fingers trace lazy patterns along your arm, a quiet gesture that says so much without a word. Somehow, these last days have passed in a perfect blur, each moment with him slipping effortlessly into the next. It’s as if the rest of the world has faded into the background, leaving just the two of you and the freedom of these warm summer days.

It hasn’t been more than three days, you’re sure. But in the rush of everything—of his touch, of the laughter, of the long talks that stretch into the night—it feels like so much more. It doesn’t matter, though. Summer is fleeting by nature, and relationships, much like the warmth of the sun, can’t last forever. You’ve always known that.

Maybe that’s why things feel so easy with Josh. There’s no pressure, no rush to figure it all out. You don’t need a lifetime to know that this connection is real, even if it’s only for now.

“I was thinking…” he whispers, his voice sending a shiver down your spine as it tickles your ear. “Why don’t you come with me to a party? It’s very casual.”

You turn your head slightly so you can look at him, feeling the heat of his breath against your skin. “Where?” you ask, curiosity piqued.

“Just… at a friend’s house,” he replies, his words vague, as though he’s trying to keep something hidden. You sense it, the hesitation, like he’s afraid the full truth will make you back out.

“Okay… whose house?” you ask, your voice a bit firmer now, wanting a little more clarity.

You roll your eyes and let out a dramatic groan, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Fine. But the second he crosses a line, I’m out. Don’t try to stop me.”

Josh raises his hands, feigning innocence, though there’s a gleam of victory in his eyes. “Deal,” he says with a grin, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

“I’m serious,” you press, your voice soft but your gaze steady, locking onto his as if to underline your words. You want him to know you’re not playing around; Rafe has crossed too many lines before, and you’re not about to give him any more chances.

Josh’s grin softens into something more earnest as he takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know. And I won’t let him pull anything. I’ll be right there with you.”

You nod, reassured—well, mostly. There’s still a twinge of anxiety at the thought of walking into Rafe’s space. But with Josh by your side, it feels like a risk worth taking. You take a deep breath, pushing away the doubts, letting yourself focus on the warmth of his hand in yours.

You know you’ll probably regret being so compliant later, but in this moment, under the warm sun and the gentle pull of his charm, you can’t find it within yourself to care. Not right now, anyway.

The party is at its peak when you step inside with Josh, his hand a steady presence on the small of your back. People weave around, stumbling and laughing, drinks sloshing as they chug another round. The air is thick with the smell of beer and perfume, the music pounding loud enough to shake the floor.

Tannyhill is enormous, every inch of it polished and perfect. Compared to the flimsy house you call home, this level of luxury feels surreal, almost insulting—like you’re trespassing in a world you’re not meant to be a part of.

“You good?” Josh’s voice is low against your ear, his fingers pressing lightly, reassuringly, into your back.

“Yeah,” you manage, glancing around at the high ceilings and spotless marble floors. “Big house,” you mumble, trying to play it off, but Josh catches the edge of awe in your voice and lets out a soft chuckle.

“Sometimes I forget,” he says with a smile, “that this is all just… normal to me. It’s weird, huh?”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “A little.” There’s an underlying discomfort, a feeling of not quite fitting in, but with Josh beside you, you tell yourself it doesn’t matter.

As you navigate through the crowd, you spot Rafe across the room, casually leaning against a table, a smirk on his face as he watches the crowd unfold around him. His gaze shifts, and for a brief second, his eyes lock onto yours, his smirk turning into something sharper, something that sends a prickle of irritation through you.

Josh notices and gives your hand a squeeze, as if grounding you. “Remember our deal,” he murmurs, his tone playful but his eyes serious.

“Right,” you reply, taking a deep breath and letting it go, trying to shake off the feeling of being under Rafe’s watch. Tonight, you tell yourself, is about being with Josh, about experiencing his world—even if only for a night.

There are barely any Pogues here, you realize, glancing around at the faces in the crowd. Maybe a few who hover on the edges, those who toe the line between a bad season of hard luck and those who might actually crawl and beg to be part of the Kooks’ world. They’re the ones who keep their heads down, wearing uncomfortable clothes, trying to blend in without drawing attention.

You feel the difference even more now, the gap between you and this place, this crowd. Everyone here is effortlessly at ease, basking in the privilege that’s been theirs since birth. And yet here you are, standing in the middle of it all, aware of every sideways glance, every slightly raised eyebrow as you pass by.

“You’re sure it’s okay for me to be here?” you ask again, your voice low, almost like you’re bracing yourself for Rafe or one of his friends to notice you and kick you out.

Josh squeezes your hand, his expression softening. “Of course. They don’t care, really,” he says, his tone steady, almost casual, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You wish you could believe him. You’ve noticed, over these past few days, how little Josh seems to care about the whole Kook and Pogue divide. He doesn’t see you as an outsider, doesn’t seem to register the tension that hums just beneath the surface. To him, it’s all irrelevant, a line drawn in the sand that doesn’t matter. It’s refreshing—and it’s blinding.

Because Josh’s indifference almost fooled you into thinking the world works that way, too. Like the Kooks and Pogues can just coexist, that the labels and histories are meaningless. But tonight, standing in this mansion with strangers’ eyes glancing your way, you feel the weight of it again, the silent reminders that you don’t belong.

He notices the hesitation in your eyes, the way you’re pulling back, and his hand slides to your shoulder, a gentle reminder that he’s here with you. “Listen,” he murmurs, leaning close so only you can hear, “I don’t care about any of that, and if anyone else does… well, that’s their problem. You’re with me.”

His words are a comfort, but they’re not enough to erase the uneasy feeling that lingers. You force a smile, hoping he can’t see the doubt flickering there, and nod. “Right. I’m with you.”

For the slightest moment you feel at ease, but almost like clockwork, the grating voice of Rafe Cameron breaks your reverie, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Hey, man,” he greets, slapping a hand on Josh’s back in that familiar, boy-ish way.

“What’s up, Rafe?” Josh replies, his smile wide, clearly used to this dynamic, his tone casual and easygoing.

“Nothing much, just trying to keep everything at bay,” Rafe responds, his voice dripping with indifference as he talks like you’re not even standing there. Like you don’t exist in this moment, and it stings more than it should.

“Cool,” Josh shifts slightly, turning toward you. “I’m sure you’ve met YN, hope it’s all good that I brought her?”

At that, Rafe finally looks at you. The weight of his gaze makes your skin prickle, and for a moment, you almost squirm under it. “Yup, all good,” Rafe says, his voice laced with something colder, something discomforting. “I said you could bring anyone… and you did.”

The way he says it is so backhanded, so typical of him. You can practically hear the unspoken judgement in his words, feel it in the way he looks at you, sizing you up.

You’re not surprised, of course—this is Rafe, after all—but the little jab only adds to the discomfort that’s been creeping up on you all evening. You force a tight smile, but it feels too small, too weak for what’s really going on inside. Still, you keep your eyes on Josh, hoping he doesn’t notice how the atmosphere has shifted, how Rafe’s presence has twisted everything just enough to make you feel smaller than you are.

“Well, enjoy the party,” Rafe says, his smile almost too practised, like he’s delivering a line he’s said a hundred times before. The kind of smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, that’s meant to keep things cordial, even if the undercurrent of judgement is thick enough to cut through.

“We will,” Josh replies easily, not missing a beat, his voice smooth and unbothered, as though none of the tension is hanging in the air.

Josh’s hand finds yours, his fingers warm against your skin as he gently pulls you away from the conversation. But as you pass by Rafe, you hear him lean in slightly, his voice just low enough for only you to hear. “Not too much, yeah?”

It’s a whisper, but it feels like a slap. You can feel your brows furrow instinctively, the words gnawing at you. You’re tempted, so tempted, to turn around and shove him and ask, What the hell is wrong with you?

But you don’t.

Instead, you let Josh lead you away, his hand tightening around yours in a subtle reassurance. The music swells, the noise of the party grows louder, but it all feels distant now, like a blur around the sharp edge of Rafe’s comment. You try to ignore it, try to shake it off, but it clings to you, sticking in your chest like a splinter.

Even as you move through the crowd, you know that this night isn’t just about the music or the people—it’s about the silent things too. The things you can’t control, the things you have to push past in order to keep moving.

And Rafe Cameron is the one thing you can’t push past, no matter how hard you try. The one who thinks he can push you down, who sees you as something beneath him, a reminder of everything he’s convinced he’s better than.

But if there’s one thing he needs to know, it’s that you don’t go out without a fight. He might have the money, the reputation, the home twice the size of anywhere you’ve ever lived, but he will not ruin your summer. 

He’s attempted to get under your skin before and failed. And you’re not about to let this be any different. The summer isn’t his to take from you, no matter how hard he tries. He’s not a force you’re willing to let derail everything good about these days. Not the warmth of the sun, not the nights you spend with Josh, not the taste of freedom you’ve felt since you stepped into his world.

You’ll be damned if you let Rafe Cameron, of all people, get in the way of that.