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Until Death (Part 2)

Arranged Marriage AU: Dark!Husband!Rafe Cameron x Wife!Reader

Word Count: +2,021

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Domestic Violence, Humiliation, Branding, Forced breeding, Gun violence, Mild gore, Hints of misogyny.

Author's Note(s): I know this is over the top. I am on my period and only seek *violence*.

During the next few months, it had only worsened. Rafe was starting to feel comfortable around you now that his father isn’t keeping tabs. It was about time you had some marital training. From now on, no more hanging around those Pogue friends of yours. It was about time you started acting like a part of higher society. He won’t have you embarrassing him.

He’s let you get away with more than enough snarky remarks, and if you kept that stubborn attitude there will be consequences. Those days of rebellion are over now. He came up with the perfect routine to follow. As head of the house, Rafe expects certain things from you. To serve and obey like a good wife should.  

It took some time and effort but eventually you learned. Whatever it takes to ease that temper of his. You remember the first few weeks of training. When Rafe would chase you down the halls of the manor with a riding crop in hand. He wouldn’t hesitate to bend you over his lap if needed. He absolutely loved to play ‘cat and mouse’, taunting his prey before going in for the kill.

Rafe took pleasure in watching that flicker of hope burn out. When he would arrive home from a long day of work, he wants you waiting patiently at the door. As soon as he steps in you get to work, greeting him when he enters. You place a chaste kiss on his cheek. Rafe isn’t satisfied by your lack of effort. He doesn’t try hiding the obvious frown, “Sweetheart,” his voice is stern, “That’s not what I taught you,” he’s waiting for you to get it right.

When you lean in again, he wraps his arms around your waist. Rafe takes the opportunity to lift you a few inches from the ground. He places you back down with his hands still cupping your rear. He grips and squeezes at the flesh before delivering a harsh smack. Then Rafe finally let’s go. Now sporting a cocky grin on his face, “I’m starving, what’s for dinner?” he can afford a private chef but prefers a home cooked meal instead. It was his way of keeping you busy at home. He loves watching you on camera playing housewife.  

You walk with him the dining room where dinner awaits. It instantly improves his mood. Dinner was quiet. Mainly because Rafe did most of the talking. He would start with how his day was, then extensive detail of how his office life was, followed by how happy he was to be back home. You’ve already tuned him out. It took a while to realize he’d been calling your name.

By the time you’ve realized it he’s already lost his temper. He slams the dinner table hard enough to break out of that daydream you were currently in. You look up from your plate to find a very pissed off Rafe. You let out a string of apologies that are quickly shut down by him, “Don’t, not another word out of your mouth until we’re finished,” A quiet Rafe is never a good thing.  

Although you were exhausted from the multiple tasks today, you wanted Rafe to hear you out. So, you try to make up for it the only way you know how. Dressed in a seductive camisole that was hiding a lacy two-piece. As soon as Rafe spots you he’s at a loss for words. This time it was different, you decided to take charge by straddling his waist. You brought his hands to your hips before fastening your pace. Rafe stares back with hooded lids. There’s a look of hunger in his eyes. That’s exactly where you need him. Desperate and wanting.

He lifts his head to catch a breast, teasing the other with his free hand. You moan with pleasure, raising your hips faster to catch the rising orgasm. Rafe could feel you were close. His hand dips down to find that bundle of nerves. He gives it a few rubs before tugging at it. You instantly melt into a puddle of pleasure. Your head falls back as you felt the wave of pleasure hit. After coming down from your high that’s when you realize the slick between your legs. Rafe came, hard.

You were stuffed to the brim with his spunk. He held you close, gently turning the both of you onto the bed. Your head now pressed against his chest. Rafe doesn’t pull out, he doesn’t want to. He seemed much more relaxed than earlier. That when you decide now would be a good time to tell him, “Rafe…" you start to plea your case, “I miss my parents,” you just wanted some space. It was something he’d been dreading of since the beginning. Rafe knew very well you were a free spirit. It would take some time to break that out of you. He needed to make you more reliant on him. So, for the past few months he’d been tampering with your birth control.

Yet no news of a pregnancy was made. He assumes it was from stress. What was stressful he hadn’t a clue. He gave you everything. What more could you possibly want? He huffs, “Fine,” grabbing your jaw to face him, “But I’m coming along,” he’s not going to risk you falling out of line. The last thing he needs is for you to embarrass him. Tears of joy stream down as you kiss him repeatedly. He couldn’t hide the grin on his face. Not when his adorable wife was so doting over him.  

As each day passed, Rafe began to grow weary. He was nervous taking you out for the first time. His suspicions only grew when you start to pack a few bags. To his knowledge this was supposed to be a short trip. He chose the very day you were going to leave to start an argument. He'll be damned if he's sending his wife back to the cut. What if you ran away? Or worse, you running away with some Pogue. He'd grown suspicious for a while now.

It was the day of your trip. After waiting for Rafe downstairs, you try searching for his whereabouts. To your surprise, he was still sat at his desk. You couldn't believe it. He hadn't even bothered to pack his bags. Hell, he even had the gall to be upset. This wasn't fair, you were the one who was supposed to be in a bad mood.

Rafe starts, "Where is it?" he states. You roll your eyes, "Where is what Rafe?" as soon as he stands you step back. Already prepared for the worst as your hands fly in front, "Rafe..." tears begin to brim. You blink them away. It''s not like they would help. You sigh, "Where is what--" that's when he pounces, Rafe grabs you by the arm and pulls you to his desk.

He slams you against it with a 'thud'. All the air escapes your lungs. At that moment you start to cry harder. He growls in your face, "Where the fuck is it?!" Rafe had grown suspicious when you stopped wearing your wedding ring. He wants everyone to know you're off limits. You try to catch your breath, still attempting to muster up some words, “It doesn’t fit me anymore…”

“Bullshit,” "N-no! I swear! It doesn't fit me!" you're a sputtering mess. Tears and spit ran down your face. Rafe doesn't buy the act, not one bit. He wants you to prove to him your loyalty. He flips you over, pulling up your skirt before yanking down the garment. He aims his leaking tip against your folds. He fucks you against his desk, grunting into your ear a string of curse words and threats. Rafe reaches for something next to him, “You won’t wear the ring? Fine,” he picks up a wax stamp, still warm from earlier.

Still hot to the touch. Rafe presses his entire bodyweight on top of yours to prevent you from escaping. He traps your hand under his, isolating your ring finger from the rest. That's when you begin to panic, “Rafe! Rafe let go! Let go of my—“ You spot the tool in his hand. Now you were certain that he intends to burn you with it.

You thrash against his larger body, trying your best then break free form the grip he has on you. He takes the heated brand, hovering right above your digit. He then presses it tightly against your finger, ignoring the wail of agony escaping your lips. The smell of burning flesh consumes the room. A part of you wants to hurl from the stench alone.

When he pulls it away you cry harder. Rafe is in awe as he stares back at his initials now permanently burned into your finger. Fuck, he's never been more turned on in his life. Rafe thrusts his hips at a faster pace. He came with a roar, emptying a load deep inside. That's when he pulls something from his pocket. Your wedding ring. Rafe presses his lips against your ear and whispers, "Here, you won't be needing this," he drags the ring down your abdomen and past your mound. He coats the ring with your arousal before pushing it inside.

His fingers reach as far as they can go. Your breath hitches, feeling his thick digits stretching you. A whine escapes your lips. You clung to the desk for dear life. Rafe leans back in his chair, lighting up a cigarette to get a good view of his girl. He feet give your legs a light kick to part them. His cock twitches at the sight of his spunk leaving your womb. He watches as you attempt to push the ring out, evening offering to help get it out.

If the treatment wasn't humiliating enough, he would always find a way to make it worse. You turn around, now leaning against the desk with parted legs. His hands reach in between your legs. As one of them pushes a few fingers inside, the other toys with your clit. Rafe retrieves it with that same triumphant look after getting what he wants. This was the final straw. Your finger stung, you were tired and in unimaginable pain. Yet still, that spark of anger over came all senses, "Keep it, I want a divorce," with that you left his office.

You could hear Rafe's steps approaching and make a run for it. You beat him to the nearest guest room, locking the door behind. Rafe continuously slams at the door, "Don't even think about it! You're not leaving me! Do you hear me?!" Rafe screams your name at the top of his lungs. It startles you. When he starts to kick the door that's when you attempt to hide. Quickly finding a place under a bed. After a while the sound of Rafe's voice starts to die out. Hopefully his anger would subside, and this would all be over with. But all he could think of was how to get through this door.

A wave of relief is shortly lived. Until the sound of a gun firing is heard on the other side. Rafe shoots the door a few times until the lock finally breaks. You muffle a sob when you spot his feet standing right in front of the hiding spot. He calmly calls for your name, "Baby...please come out..." his voice is calm, too calm, "Don't make this harder for us," as if it would help. What other choice did you have?

You held out a hand. Rafe bends down to pull you out from underneath. He held you tightly, as if you'd disappear at any moment. He never sounded so desperate in his life, "You're not walking out on me," his grip tightens, "You will never leave me, do you understand?" he expects you to answer. Of course, you caved in, "I--I understand..." a stray tear escapes. Rafe's expression quickly changes. He swipes it away with the back of his thumb, "I love you, you know that, right?" his voice breaks, yet there are no tears.

That day you had to explain to your parents that you'd fallen ill. But don't worry, Rafe would take care of you. Through sickness and in health as promised.

Kook for Rent

Dark!Virgin!Topper Thorton x Reader x Dark!Stepbro!Rafe Cameron

Word Count: +1,612

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Bondage, Human trafficking, Mentions of past stepcest, Forced prostitution.

Author's note(s): I've been meaning to finish this off before I deep-dive into studying.

Rafe would consider Topper to be his best friend. So of course, him being the best friend that he is decides to make Topper's dream come true: A chance to fuck his cute stepsister. Rafe is well aware of just how many guys would kill to spend the night with the Kook princess herself. He knows what your market value is and decides to take advantage of the opportunity.

Rafe counts the cash in hand, licking the pad of his thumb before raking through the stack of bills. His dad had cut some of his allowance out for not keeping an eye on Sarah, yet you weren't given the same punishment. It wasn't fair. So, what better idea than to rent you out to his best friend? He smirks at the heavy wad. Topper's family earned well more than his did, one of the few reasons why he tolerates the Kook. That and how he's known him since they were kids. Topper would never turn against him, even if he wanted to.

Rafe knew that Topper was head over heels for you. He's seen the way Topper would glance at you, when he thought no one else was watching. Of course, he wouldn't admit it, he's not the type to cross that boundary unless the feelings were returned. But if given the opportunity, he'd jump your bones. Rafe isn't going to let his friend die a virgin, not if he can help it. As soon as he finishes counting the money he leads his friend down the hallway to where your room was. There you were, bound and gagged to the bedpost.

Rafe made sure you were presentable, after all, Topper is a special guest. This is the first time he's ever ventured into your room. Different pastels and pinks littered the place. A few stuffed animals had been tossed aside in the struggle. Your hair had been messy during the fight. Rafe made sure to dress you in that one slip on that would drive any man crazy. For a moment, Topper couldn't believe it. He'd finally have a chance with the Kook queen herself. Who wouldn't want this? You were everything he's ever dreamed of. Valedictorian, top of their class, hell, you were even prom queen, yet here you were, presented just for him.

Before he could approach any further, Rafe places a hand on Topper's shoulder, "Listen, man, there's a reason why I chose you, I don't want anyone else doing this," He looks his friend dead in the eyes, "It's her first time too y'know?" Rafe eases his friend into it. Topper raises his brows at that statement, his pupils are blown as he looks your way. When would he ever get another chance like this? Both of them are sat on either side of the bed.

You glare at the two men with weary eyes, mascara now running down both cheeks. Each time one of them would approach, a swift kick would be sent their way. Topper had to dodge a few times until Rafe finally took charge. His hands immediately wrapping around your neck and squeezing as hard as he could. He doesn't stop, even when your face starts to change color.

Topper tries pleading with with him, "C'mon man! She can't breathe!" worried that his friend may have taken it too far. Rafe doesn't let go despite Topper's pleas until you almost pass out. When he releases his grip, an angry mark is left behind. You try to catch your breath despite the lack of air. It became clear that the gag wasn't helping one bit. Topper felt weary of the circumstances of how you ended up like this.

Rafe glares at his best friend, "Yeah, but you're still here," he knows how to read people, what makes them bend to his will, "You know she used to have a mouth on her?" he chuckles, "Fixed that shit up," Rafe grabs a leg while you're still drowsy and ties it at the end of the bed frame. He repeats this action for the other leg before laying at your side, "Sometimes you've gotta slap a bitch around, or else they'll feel like they're in charge," pointing a taunting finger in your face, "Remember this, I own your ass, you so much as take another breath, it's because I allowed it," He then raises both hands in the air, nodding for his friend to proceed, "Go on, she won't do that again," he smiles triumphantly.

For a moment, Topper is hesitant. Should he really be doing this? Rafe rolls his eyes, "There's a reason why I chose you, Top," Rafe needed to have Topper trust him, "I could've let Barry fuck her first, but I chose you," Rafe drags down the waistband of your panties, "All this, just for you," revealing the jewel plug to his friend. Topped let out an audible groan at the sight of it. He could feel the strain of his cock swelling under his shorts. Rafe parts your legs for a better angle. His hands grip at each cheek, parting your folds to give Topper a good view. Rafe made sure to lube up that pretty cunt of yours, he left the plug inside your ass in case Topper wanted to pay extra.

Topper juts his hips, he groans at the friction. He rubs his tip in between both breasts. A small trail of precum already leaking through, "F-fuck...she feels so soft..." Rafe made sure you'd use the extra soft lotion, the sparkly kind. Of course, it'd make Topper go crazy, what guy wouldn't? Glitter tits? Is that not every man's dream? He jerks himself off, using your tits for the extra friction. He toyed and played with both breasts until they peaked. His brows furrow, indicating that he was close, "Fuck man...she looks so pretty like this..." In a few seconds he'd already came in heavy waves, choking out a heavy groan before emptying a load. His cheeks were now a vibrant hue from the first round. His eyelids fluttering shut as he spread his seed against your bare chest.

Topper parts from you for a moment to catch his breath. He admires the view below him. More specifically that doe-eyed look on your face. He pokes out his tongue to lick his lips. Rafe drags the chair from your vanity closer to the bed, he plops his feet on your bedside. He lets Topper take charge for now. So far, his best friend was learning fast. Topper wipes at your tears, cooing a string of apologies, "Shh...sh... you're okay..." he swipes a stray tear with the back of his thumb gently. Rafe rolls his eyes at the sentimental act, "Jeez, Top, you're too soft on the slut," He clicks his tongue, alerting his friend to turn around.

Rafe then tilts his head to the bottle of lube and condom placed on the nightstand, "The bitch is already worked up, all you gotta do is fuck her now," as soon as those words hit your ears another muffled scream escapes. You thrash violently against the bindings, ignoring the searing pain of rope being dug into raw skin. Rafe lept from his seat, "Hey, hey, enough of that," he scolds, "I'm protecting you, what do you not understand? It's either Topper or Barry and we both know which one you'd prefer," as if you had a say in any of this. You glare back at the two men, giving them a death stare. It doesn't faze the Cameron heir, not one bit, "Stop being such a fucking baby," Rafe knew you could take much more, so why was Topper being such a fucking softie?

Topper shrugs of his friend, tuning him out as he wrapped himself up. He coats the condom with a light about of gel before rubbing it against your bare folds. He' g's been waiting for this for a long, long time. He presses his tip against the opening, grunting at the sensation, "Fuck...she's really warm," Topper's never felt this good in his life. He starts off at a slow pace, his eyes are mesmerized by the sight of his cock sinking deep into your channel. He carefully pumps his shaft, reveling in the feeling of a warm cunt squeezing him.

Topper groans, "Fuck....I'm really your first huh?" slowly but gently, picking up pace. He was much different than Rafe, gentler. What Thorton hadn't known, was that the Cameron boy had beaten him to it. After catching you sneaking out, Rafe decided that the best form of punishment was to pop your cherry. He hadn't told Topper this. Instead, he wanted to build that level of trust. Even if that meant putting you on the line.

Rafe knew Topper hadn't been with any other girl before. Of course, he wouldn't know the difference. You moan into your gag, eyelids fluttering shut as you fought the approaching orgasm. Rafe licks his lips at the sight of it. His best friend fucking his step-sister shouldn't turn him on this much. But something about it seemed so fucking hot. Shit, maybe he could sell the footage. Make it into an amateur porn. He's been tight on cash recently, might as well put you to good use. But no, he already had enough blackmail to keep you in line. He knows there's no coming back from this. He's already ruined you for any other man. Rafe owns your cunt and ass. He spent weeks making sure to train you well. You were a fighter, yes, but he's much, much stronger.

words literally can’t describe how much i love this chapter and having a glimpse of rafe being soft with reader really warmed my heart, my favorite part yet

well kept [4] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, DUBCON/NONCON, corporal punishment, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: longest chapter yayyyy :):)

word count: 4.9k

In which Rafe's control pushes you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond.

well kept masterlist

Rafe Cameron could handle his liquor, you learned that quickly. After accompanying him to a few dinner parties and watching him down several shots of whiskey before finishing an entire pitcher of beer, you wondered how he maintained his physique. He never slurred his words or stumbled, he seemed entirely happier when he was drinking, a completely different person. 

He’d forced you to drink a cocktail and that quickly made you feel wobbly. The nights were a blur of conversations and you were tethered to reality by the feeling of Rafe’s hand on your lower back. He never introduced you as his assistant to his rich friends. You were just Y/N. “She’s cute, yeah?” He would say to people. Usually your dress was way too short or your cleavage was spilling from your top.  Unfortunately, you sipped your drink when you were nervous.

You were exhausted by the end of the night and a little tipsy though you hadn’t dared to drink nearly as much as he did. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you home,” He’d said, hand on your waist as he guided you out of the restaurant. Sometimes it made you feel protected. Like Rafe could hurt you, sure, but at least no one else could. 

“Should you be driving?” You’d mistakenly asked, words slipping out before you could stop them. He took it as a challenge to his manhood and the look on his face made you regret it. 

“I’m fine,” He’d looked at you sharply before he commanded, “Get in the fucking car.”

You didn’t hesitate any longer and let him him help you into the passenger side of his truck. He kept his eyes focused on the road, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel, and you hoped he wasn’t angry, maybe just deep in thought. 

When he pulled up to your apartment complex, you fumbled for the door handle, eager to escape the tension. But before you could step out, Rafe’s hand was on your arm.

“I’m coming up,” he stated firmly.

“It’s a weeknight,” you said, trying to find a reason that would convince him otherwise. “My roommates are probably asleep by now.”

He gave you an unimpressed look. “I’ll be quiet,” a hint of his boozed up charm returned to his voice. Reluctantly, you led him upstairs.

When you opened the door, you were surprised to find your roommates, Imani and Angel, still awake, standing in the kitchen with a bottle of wine between them. Their laughter filled the small apartment. Their expressions shifted to complete shock at the sight of Rafe behind you. You smiled, trying to give the impression that all was well, that it was completely normal to be returning to your apartment with your drunk, billionaire boss. 

Imani, with her flawless olive complexion and neatly styled curls, scrutinized the scene with furrowed brows. Beside her, Angel stood tall and vibrant, her unruly tight curls escaping their single hair tie, her mouth agape in astonished silence as she stared at you. Both much more beautiful than you, a sad thought crossed your mind, and you worried for a short millisecond that Rafe would realize he’d made a mistake in picking you. 

“Hey,” You did you best to sound casual, “Rafe, this is Imani and Angel. Imani, Angel, this is Rafe.”

“Your boss, Rafe?” Imani asked incredulousy, her arms crossing over her faded band tee. “I don’t understand-”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Cameron,” Angel blurted out, practically bouncing on her bare feet, “Can I offer you a drink? We both had a shitty day so we whipped out the strawberry moscato.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys. And thanks, tempting offer but I’m quite satisfied at the moment,” His voice was smooth and effortlessly disarming. He placed a hand on your waist, pulling you into him, and your eyes widened, “I’m just here to make sure Y/N gets a good night’s rest.”

Both Imani and Angel looked at you with a mixture of shock and curiosity. Imani’s eyes, in particular, were sharp and disapproving, clearly questioning how you had kept this from her. Her gaze was heavy with the unspoken question: How could you be involved with Rafe and not have told her?

“Make yourself at home,” Angel said, clearly more excited than angry, and Imani’s intense gaze snapped to her, “I’m about to make popcorn and we’re about to watch a movie if you guys-”

“Angel,” Imani whispered harshly, “Leave them alone.”

“I’m j-j-just gonna, uhm, goodnight, guys,” You took Rafe’s arm and led him away from the tension filled kitchen to the narrow hallway that led to your bedroom. You felt he weight of Imani’s disapproval lingering in the air. 

Your small apartment that you shared with two other people was a stark contrast to the luxurious settings you’d been in over the last few weeks. As Rafe’s eyes wandered over your tiny room, the awkwardness of the situation continued to build. 

“This is …cozy,” He said after you shut the door. He was already taking off his suit jacket and undoing his cuff links. Was Rafe Cameron really going to spend the night here with you? Maybe he was drunker than you thought.  “So this is where you unwind after a long day of dealing with me?” 

Was that humor you heard in his voice? Dealing with him. You more than dealt with Rafe Cameron. You practically let him walk you around on a leash. 

“Do you feel bad for me yet?” You tried to joke but there was too much animosity in your tone. 

He chuckled before starting to undo his belt, “I try not to feel bad for other people. Life’s easier that way. Sides’, this won’t be your life for much longer.”

As he stripped down to his underwear, he started to settle into your bed, the lines between your professional and personal worlds now blurrier than ever. 

“I wasn’t expecting t-t-t-t … to have company tonight,” You said, gathering his pile of clothes from your carpet and doing your best to fold them and place them neatly on top of your dresser. 

“I’m full of surprises, sweetheart,” He winked as he folded his arms behind his head, and you had to avert your eyes from his statue-esque physique. Broad shoulders, thick arms and chest, and abs that acted like an arrow that pointed down to his … “Plus, I wanted to see where you lived.”

“Now you see I d-d-don’t have sss-space for all my new work outfits,” You started to undress now, realizing there was no way out of this long night except by sleeping. You kicked off your heels, placing them neatly at the bottom of your closet. You put an oversized t-shirt on and used it to cover your body as you slipped off your mini-dress. 

“Yeah, I see that now. It’s like a shoebox in here,” You shot him an offended look and he smiled stupidly, “It’s cute.”

“You sss-say that word a lot,” You mumbled before finding a pair of fuzzy socks and taking a seat at the very edge of your bed, bending over to slip them on. 

“C’mere,” he patted the spot next to him and you hesitated. 

He wouldn’t, you thought, not while your roommates were on the other side of a paper thin wall. But he would, you remember, Rafe Cameron would do that. He already had the gall to walk into your apartment with his hand on your waist despite being the one who paid your salary. He would do it and you’d let him because you had no spine. 

“Y/N?” You pinched your eyes shut for a brief moment before you inevitable crawled into the spot next to him. You’d never really laid next to him in bed and it wasn’t what you were expecting. Even on his side, laying down, his presence enveloped you. You felt small like you usually did. He easily pressed himself to you, impossibly strong arms pulling your fronts together. 

“You hhh-have to be quiet,” You whispered. 

“I’m not the loud one,” He chuckled, warm breath tickling your shoulder and making you shiver. He placed a kiss there, one arm wrapped around your back and pulling you closer while the other tickled over the skin on your bare thigh, “I could fuck you so slow, so gentle, and I’m sure you’d be screaming.”

“No,” You argued though you weren’t sure why. 

“No? You think you could stay quiet?” A excruciatingly soft and wet kiss was placed on your collarbone. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, “I’m sss-sserious, Rafe.”

“So informal,” He shook his head, the hand that was on your thigh started to peel up your shirt. To your surprise, Rafe ducked inside the fabric of your shirt, beginning to burrow his head into your breast, “My fucking favorite place on your cute, little body.”

He seemed to groan, something animalistic, placing kisses along your skin. His breath tickled your nipples and you tried to pull away. He flips you fully onto your back, pinning you with his weight, his mouth threatening to take one of your nipples into his mouth. You couldn’t take it, “Okay, okay, y-yess,” You rushed out, “I c-couldn’t stay quiet. You’re right.”

You look down to watch him pop his head out from under your shirt, “Yeah?”

“Yes,” You nodded, “I-I admit it. Please.”

“Please stop? Please fuck you quietly?” Rafe teased you, “You’re not adding sir to the end of your sentences so it gets kinda hard to understand–”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” You pleaded with him through your eyes, “Please …fuck me quietly, Sir.”

“That’s better,” He pulled your shirt over your breasts before he completely devoured them. 

The next time Rafe decided to have sex with you was two weeks later, right as he walked into his office. You should’ve known by the outfit he had chosen for you. The white blouse had an air of professionalism, but the plaid, pleated skirt barely reached mid-thigh, making you certain the entire elevator caught a glimpse of your underwear when you dropped your notebook that morning.

It felt like he’d been teasing you up until that point. You'd lost track of how many times he made you orgasm in front of him during those two weeks. He had an insatiable fascination with watching you pleasure yourself, wanting you completely vulnerable, often in compromising positions, with your eyes locked on his the moment it happened. Whether it was on top of his desk, against the office window, or bent over a coffee table, you were starting to grow comfortable with being uncomfortable.

He couldn’t resist touching you, making you grind against him, or rapidly moving his fingers in and out of you until you were shaking. However, he had managed up until that point to not actually fuck you. It was getting to the point you found yourself pouting at him from your desk as you watched him complete his daily meetings. 

You didn’t have a chance to get out your usual spiel about his meetings for the day because his briefcase was already on the ground, and his arms were wrapped around your backside as he carried you over to his desk, “Take off your panties,” He commanded after setting you on his desk. He stepped back, fumbling with his belt and zipper, “Now, sweetheart. C’mon.” He said and you realized you clearly weren’t moving fast enough for him. 

Your panties weren’t even around your knees before he was lifting up your legs and pulling them off the rest of the way. He parted your legs, immediately dipping his fingers into you, “You’re already wet,” It was just an observance. No smile or smirk or evidence that he was at all pleased with the revelation, “Desperate little girl. You been thinking about me, yeah?”

You stared up at his lips, pink and parted and imagined them on yours, his soft stubble tickling the skin of your mouth. Why wasn’t he kissing you? Everything with him was a ritual. You couldn’t get what you wanted until you felt utterly humiliated and vulnerable. He couldn’t get what he wanted until you had tears in your eyes. You nodded, “Yes.”

“Fucking say it,” He barked and you winced. 

“I’ve b-b-been th-thhhinking about you,” You admitted although he already knew it. Your own well being seemed to rely on being obsessed with him. If you wanted any sexual satisfaction, he was the one who brought it. He was the entire reason you had a good income now. He was everything. 

“You haven’t touched yourself though, not without my permission?”

You nodded, “Nnn-not without your permission.”

“Cause you need me,” He finally placed his lips on yours and you nodded against them. 

“I nnn-need you,” You mewled between kisses as he pressed his crotch into yours. The two of you both tilted back towards his desk, “Please, Sir.”

You had consented, despite not being fully prepared. It didn’t feel like the first or second time. The first time had been overwhelming, your orgasms crashing over you like a storm, while the second time had been so gentle that the pleasure left you feeling like you were vibrating with ecstasy. You wanted him, undeniably, but nothing had prepared you for the intensity of him filling you completely. This was what you had desirel, feeling full, but now you were overwhelmed, as though he was consuming every part of you.

With his hands braced on either side of your head, he looked down at you, his gaze intense and focused. He moved inside you with a relentless, unyielding rhythm, driving into you with an insatiable need.

The room faded away around you. You couldn’t feel yourself breathing nor could you hear the sounds leaving your mind. You just stared back, your face a mix of anguish and pleasure, and accepted your fate. You didn’t fight your orgasm this time, your body moved instinctively, squeezing around him, your hips grinding up for more friction. 

When he was close, he pulled out of you. Your energy was already gone, your orgasm having taken almost everything from you, but he moved your body effortlessly. He pulled you off the desk before placing you on your knees in front of you. Your legs folded easily, weakly, “Fuck,” He cursed, pantting, and you watched him take his cock in his own hand. 

You reached out to take ahold of him but he pushed your hand away. His hands moved, determined, rhythmic, “Ask me to cum on your face.”

His breaths were heavy, desperate, and he clung to that control that had slipped away when he was inside you. 

“Will y-you cum on my face, Sir?” 

The question hung in the air, tension thickening, until he was finally gritting his teeth. He broke eye contact only as his orgasm ripped through him. The room filled with his moans and you did your best not overreact to that warm, sticky feeling that was now violating your senses. 

“Good girl, look at you,” He said and you squeezed your eyes tightly as it began to drip onto your eyelid. 

You breathed deeply, the intensity of the moment deciding to peak, and tears started to spill over. You became a crumpled pile of pleasure, shame and exhaustion. It seemed like the only way to release your emotions. Unexpectedly, you didn’t sit their alone. Rafe was the one to wipe your face with a tissue. He cooed, “Hey, you did good, kid. You’re a good girl,” He whispered sweet nothings to you. 

“C-C-Can you hold me?” You asked, voice trembling, so embarrassed that you didn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t want to see how he was feeling or know what he was thinking. It was all too much.

Without a word, Rafe lifted you effortlessly into his arms. His strength was both reassuring and overwhelming as he carried you behind his desk, his body warm and solid against yours. He settled into his chair, drawing you onto his lap with a sense of protective intimacy. For the rest of the morning, he worked with you nestled against him, your face buried into his neck. 

Rafe Cameron’s Appalachian cabin was one of the twelve properties he owned personally. You got to it by passing though a quaint and charming town. Despite the fact that he normally spends only three weekends of the entire year there, all the locals know him. 

The four of you; Rafe, you, Eleanor and Topper, made your way down main street which was lined with old-fashioned storefronts. In the middle was the town square which featured an old, courthouse building and a gazebo where you see a few locals gathering. The four of you enjoy a diner meal at the Blue Ridge Breakfast Bar before you walk through a few shops. It almost feels .. normal. You were surprised the three of them were even willing to walk through the antique buildings, let alone find the shops interesting. 

You didn’t know people like them even ate at diners or were interested in antique trinkets that cost less then five dollars. It was surreal. In another life, the three of them were normal people, and maybe you and Rafe could have been a normal couple. 

You often found yourself glancing at Rafe, marveling at the contrast between his usual, impeccably dressed self and the more relaxed look he wore today. Seeing him in jeans and a baseball cap, casually strolling through the town, was almost disorienting. 

It was a similar feeling you got when Rafe suddenly flipped a switch after being cruel to you and decided to comfort you. 

Despite the fact that he was technically on vacation, you were still his personal assistant, and yet he hadn’t asked you about anything related to assisting him since he picked you up that morning from your apartment. 

You wouldn’t say it to him, partially out of fear that he would deny it, but it felt like he wanted you appear like a couple. Topper and Eleanor undoubtedly new the truth so why was he acting like this? You never held hands like them but his hand would find your knee when you sat next to each other and sometimes he wrapped around your shoulder when you were standing close by. 

Sometimes, your body didn’t want to relax around him, and the intimacy brought you anxiety. Soemtimes he was easier to read when he was drunk, or inside of you, or yelling at you. You weren’t familiar with this version of him. But you were stuck with the three of them for the next three nights. 

Surrounded by towering pines and the soft hush of nature, the cabin was more of fortress nestled into the natural beauty of the mountains. You followed Rafe across a gravel path towards a large front porch which was framed by sturdy wooden columns. You stared up at large windows that endorned the front of the house, undoubtedly letting in a large amount of natural light, as you walked through the entrance. 

The house was a complete reflection of his taste and the extent of his success. As Topper and Rafe left for the bedroom to drop off luggage, you and Eleanor made your way to the kitchen with the bags of groceries you’d acquired from the local mini-mart. Surprisingly, this place didn’t come with it’s own personal chef. 

Like with everything else, you followed Eleanor’s lead when it came to cooking that weekend. She encouraged you to get ingredients for a dish you knew you could make on your own and you chose spaghetti despite the idea of feeding billionaire Rafe Cameron your homemade spaghetti making you feel stupid. 

“I’ll show you how to arrange a charcuterie board,” She said as she poured you a glass of red wine, “You’ll be the perfect housewife when I’m done with you, Y/N.”

The afternoon actually ended up being fun. You and Eleanor laughed in the kitchen while Rafe and Topper watched a football game in the living room, nursing cans of beer. The wine relaxed you and soon you were giggling over unevenly cut salami and spilled strawberry jam. The two of you ended up eating half the ingredients meant for the board, much to Eleanor’s amusement.

Eleanor loosened up even more, even getting comfortable enough to tell you a story about Topper, “You know, one time back when we lived in Kildare, he tried to make me pancakes for my birthday. From the box, not even from scratch, and he burnt every one. Literally every single one. The kitchen looked like it had been through a tornado. I don’t know how he even managed that.”

You covered your mouth, shaking your head, “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“He went through the whole box! He had to serve them to me like that. No amount of syrup and whip cream can mask that taste.”

“I didn’t realize we were telling personal stories,” You whipped your head around as you heard Topper’s voice. Your heart raced for a second, worried, but he made his way around the kitchen island and hugged his wife from behind. Rafe was following behind him but made his way over to you. You composed yourself as much as possible. 

“I was telling Y/N about how good of a cook you are,” She joked and he playfully tickled her sides and soon they were laughing together. 

The two male’s casual demeanors seemed to complement the laid-back energy of the afternoon. You watched Rafe’s lips pull into a smirk as he surveyed your work and your empty glass of wine. 

Dinner rolled around a few hours later, a relaxed atmosphere continuing to permeate through the air. You’d set the table in the dining room, the ten-person table sat next to a large window overlooking an expansive lake, and aided Eleanor in preparing her beef stir-fry. 

“It’s really good, Eleanor,” You complimented her once all of you were seated and digging into your food. 

“Thanks,” She grinned, “You’re a good sous chef, Y/N.”

A smile tugged at your lips, “Not better than me though, right, honey?” Topper asked. 

“Of course not, honey,” Eleanor winked at him. 

Small talk ensued and despite the fact that Eleanor warned the two men that business talk would bring down the room, they spent a good ten minutes talking about something called “tax increment financing”. 

Eleanor interrupted after it became too much, “So, Rafe, are you going to do any more renovations on this place?”

“After they finish the pool next summer, no. Did the home theatre, renovated the master bathroom and expanded the garage this summer. It’ll probably be move-in-ready next year.”

“Oh, are you selling it?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

Rafe’s gaze flickered away, an unusual reaction for him. He usually had a quip or a witty retort ready. “No, I plan to spend more time away from Charlotte after New Year's. I’ll be living here at least five days a week.”

“Oh,” You nodded though you really hadn’t comprehended his words. You looked back down at your plate, and as you took another bite, his words started to set in. It was an inappropriate time to delve further but your mind started to race. He’d never mentioned that he wouldn’t even be living in Charlotte after the next few months. Shouldn’t he have mentioned this by now? “I-I thought …”

“We can talk about it later, Y/N,” Rafe dismissed you, bringing a piece of meat to his mouth, and looking away. 

He spoke as if you were annoying him now. Eleanor opened her mouth again to change the subject but you interrupted her, “I-I’m sorry … w-will you still need me then? If I’m in Chhhh-Charlotte and you’re here.”

“Did you hear me the first time, Y/N?” Rafe’s jaw set as he dropped his silverware. The clang made you jump but your mind was spinning. It was a simple question, wasn’t it? Was he stringing you a long? Would you be out of a job next year? 

“I-It p-p-p-pertains to me,” You continued, your heart racing as Rafe grimaced, “Can’t y-you just say if I’ll have a job or not?”

“You’ll have a job,” Getting confirmation made your shoulders drop from relief. It was almost worth whatever seed of rage you’d planted within him, “But you’ll relocate with me.”

“What?” You pushed your plate away, leaning back in your chair. 

Topper and Eleanor exchanged uneasy glances, sensing the escalating tension. It felt like you’d already poked the bull, you felt like you had to see it through,  “I’ll need you to move here. Won’t make sense to juggle from two places.”

“Mmm-my life is i-in Chhh-Charlotte. You n-never said this before,” You tried to keep your voice steady, to express your genuine disappointment despite your frustration. 

“It’s not my fault you haven’t caught on, Y/N,” He spoke sharply, “You know how this works. I manage my properties and business. My plans change. You’re a part of that. You’re making it an issue when it’s not. You’re acting like you have a million options.”

“I-I know I don’t–”

You looked at Topper and then Eleanor. Now, the two of them were looking anywhere but the two of you. 

“Then act like it.”

“Rafe–”

“I fucking own you, you don’t even understand that.”

“Rafe!”

“One more word, Y/N, and I swear to God.”

Your lips parted and your voice started to tremble as you felt the sting of his words, “This is so … shitty,” Perhaps it was the distance, the wood table that sat between you that made you feel so bold.

Rafe’s anger erupted, his face reddening as he slammed his hands on the table. “Boo-fucking-hoo, sweetheart! I’ve given you everything, the clothes on your back, keeping the lights on in your crappy apartment, and you’re still ungrateful?”

Your frustration reached its breaking point. “Fuck you, Rafe!” you shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. “I don’t want it anymore!”

You pushed your chair back abruptly, no goal in mind for where you’d stomp off to but you felt your blood boiling. Was his entire goal to completely ruin your life? 

“Y/N!” He called after you and you turned your head to realize how close he was on your tail.  Adrenaline surged through you, the thought that you might never have control of your life left you close to completely spiraling. Determined to get away, you picked up your pace, practically running through the million-dollar home, over shiny waxed floors, moonlight shining through tall windows. 

He barked your name again and before you could reach the front door, his hand shot out and seized your upper arm. You screamed, his fingers squeezing your flesh so hard that you thought your skin might break. Swinging your body around, your feet lifted off the ground as he through you over his strong shoulder. 

Kicking, struggling, screaming and crying, Rafe carried you up a grand staircase, “Please,” You were begging but adrenaline was pumping though him too, making him moved with his own determination. He kicked open door and your head whipped as he stepped inside, slamming it closed. You couldn’t focus on any detail in the room but as he through you onto an expansive bed, you assumed it was the master bedroom. For a moment, you played a game of cat and mouse. You gained your balance, and tried to crawl off the bed. Every direction you went, he moved faster, until you were sitting on your knees in the middle of the bed. 

“You need to understand your place,” You watched as he started to loose the brown belt looped into his blue jeans. 

You shook your head frantically, “I don’t w-want this.”

“It will be easier if you just apologize,” Rafe let out a breath of air, a weary sigh, his face frustrated, “I promise, I’ll make it easier for you.”

“If I-I …w-will you use the belt?”

“I have to use the belt, sweetheart, you’ve been so bad. Tell you what, if you apologize, I won’t tie you down to the bed. How’s that sound?” 

The offer was as chilling as it was manipulative. You shook your head. You couldn’t bring yourself to apologize.

The process of what followed was both brutal and dehumanizing. You were left feeling exposed and vulnerable, your body laid bare and handcuffed to one of the posts of the canopy bed. The sting of the belt on your skin was relentless, each strike leaving a deep, aching mark that quickly turned to a disturbing shade of purple. Your apologies came out in frantic, broken pleas, but they seemed to come too late.

You even managed to ask him to hold you but he didn’t grant your wish that time. He left you to go back downstairs. You slid down to your knees when you couldn’t stand any longer, falling asleep in that position, head resting at a strange angle against the mattress. 

When you next awoke, the light of morning was gently filtering through the curtains. Rafe’s arms were wrapped around you, his steady breathing and soft snoring a stark contrast to the harshness of the previous night. His nose pressed into your hair, a reminder of his physical presence.

You cried softly against him, the tears slipping down your cheeks as you clung to him. The sounds were muffled against his chest as you hugged him tighter.

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well kept [1] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, bdsm elements, rafe has control issues, some sugar baby vibes, future NONCON/DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 4.8k

In which you interview for a low-level position at Cameron Development, but instead, you unexpectedly find yourself chosen as Rafe Cameron's personal assistant.

rafe cameron masterlist

The sky was dreary. You looked up to see dark and ominous clouds staring down at you. Taking a breath to steady your nerves, you continued walking along the pavement. At least the southern sun wasn’t beating down on you. Maybe you’d appear less sweaty and nervous to your possible employer. 

Charlotte was a big city you hadn’t fully explored, but your walk was familiar. A few blocks down from the Cameron Development headquarters was the Mug & Muffin, where you’d been serving coffee for the past year. You practically only served housewives who had the time to grab coffee at 11 in the morning and suits who were on their way to the giant buildings downtown to make more money than you’d ever see in your whole life. 

Today was your day off; however, it was the only day of the week that you weren’t working for ten straight hours. Somehow, you’d been selected to interview for a Filing Clerk position at Cameron Development. You thought it was some kind of mistake that out of all the places you applied to through online portals, a legitimate company wanted to interview you. Not only was it legit, but they had their building downtown. The building was no skyscraper, but looking up at twenty dark steel floors, huge windows wrapped around each side, and a sparkling gold sign that read CAMERON, you felt incredibly intimidated. 

When you finally pushed through the revolving doors, you reminded yourself that it was a small position. A small position you weren't qualified for, but there was no need to worry. The receptionist on the first floor barely glanced at you when you approached her. You took a deep breath, slowly releasing it before starting your sentence: “Hi, I have an eight-thirty interview with Andy Speer in the Record Management department.”

She spoke curtly, “Twelfth floor,” She pointed to the elevators hidden behind a corner.

“Th-Thank you,” You mumbled, your shoes clicking against beautiful marble floors as you made your way to the elevators. You weren’t expecting to go so high up the building. The ride felt like an eternity, with each floor reminding you of how out-of-place you were. Even the receptionist who worked on the first floor acted like she was above you. You wiped your sweaty palms on your dress, grateful you’d chosen a black one. Well, you were thankful that you’d chosen the second out of the only two nice dresses you owned. 

You were now the age you should've graduated college at, you couldn’t work at a coffee shop forever. If you ever wanted to not have to live with three other people then you needed a serious job. You needed to take advantage of this opportunity. If you somehow landed it, this was the type of job where you might be able to grow. Who knows? Maybe you’d eventually be able to afford a car payment. Those thoughts pushed you forward as you walked down the hallway. 

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N,” The male voice came from behind you and you whirled around to see a short, bearded man approaching you. He wore a blue dress shirt and navy tie and was carrying a coffee from no other place than the Mug & Muffin. You spotted a small brown spot near his shirt pocket wear he’d clearly spilled some, “You’re here about the Filing Clerk position?”

You nodded, your heart beginning to race, as you stuck your hand out for him to shake. You weren’t sure if you were overdressed, having worn your outfit at your cousins wedding, but you added a red cardigan and ballet flats to make it more professional, “Yes,” You smiled, “That’s mmm-me.”

He didn’t seem to look you over more than once, and his smile remained despite the bump in your speech, “Great, my name is Andy Speer. I manage the department. Come on into my office.”

Breath, you reminded yourself. Start your sentences slow. Take a pause if you need to. If you get stuck, don’t get too frustrated. Try not to bring attention to it. 

When you settled into his office, relatively small but with a large window that had a lovely view of the city, he began the interview. You folded your hands in your lap, trying to be acutely aware of your facial expressions and your body’s posture. 

“So, tell me a little about your experience,” He started. 

“Well,” Breath in and slowly release, “I’ve actually been working at the Mug & Muffin as a shift lead for the past year but, before that, I worked in retail for several years. I’m v-vvvv-very organized; that’s why I’ve been able to help with-with both managing inventory and scheduling tasks.”

“Organization is key in a position like this. And you also know how to work on your feet. Our clerks travel all throughout the building, retrieving documents and assisting with things like file purging and managing file systems.”

Deep breath in. Start slowly. 

“I’m totally capable of being in service to others. Working in customer service will teach you how to deal with people very quickly and I’m sure there are similar ups and d-downs even within a company. I think it’s important to show a p-p-person that you’re listening, even if you c-c-can’t help them directly.”

He nodded, “People tend to forget that. What else interests you about working in Records Management?”

“I like the idea of keeping things in order. Making ssss-ssss,” Too fast. Slow down, “Sssss-sssss-sure. Uhm. Making sure everything is in place. It ssss-sound sss-small but it’s s-something I’m good at. And I’d like to be a part of a bigger company where I can grow and learn.”

Andy’s lips parted, and he gave you a look that you were no stranger to, “Ms. Y/L/N, if you don’t mind me asking–”

“I have a stutter,” You finished his sentence before taking another breath, slowing down as much as you could, “I have it managed, mostly. When I’m asked direct questions, or I’m especially nervous, it can flare up. But I-I-I am nervous. I’m interested in this job.”

Andy smiled softly, and your heart seemed to rest slightly. The pounding in your chest was about to make you go crazy.

“I appreciate your honesty. I have more questions for you but there’s no need to be confined to this office. I’ll show you around the building.”

You were more than relieved, instantly nodding. He seemed to understand how tense you were and undoubtedly the conversation would feel more casual if the two of you were walking at the same time. The interview continued, and Andy allowed you time to ask him questions about your possible role. 

Still, you felt small, like a child in an adult’s world. Andy touched on your lack of secondary education but didn’t press it. You explained how you’d completed two years of your undergrad degree, majoring in accounting but had to leave for personal reasons. You explained that you eventually wanted to finish your degree, but in reality, you’d only chosen accounting because it was one of the few majors that didn’t require you to take a public speaking class. 

You followed him through corridors with large glass meeting rooms on either side. Again, everyone you came across looked like they belonged. You walked past a room with a long, sleek table, and it seemed like at least twenty people were sitting at the table. At the front of the room was a tall man, impeccably dressed in a navy blue suit. His back was slightly turned, but the air of authority permeated through the glass all the way to you. You felt it against your skin. 

His voice was raised but was muffled by the glass barrier, “That’s Mr. Cameron. Our CEO.”

Your lips parted when you caught a real glance at him. He was older but much younger than you expected. Certainly younger than a CEO typically was. His hair was buzzed short, his skin a nice tan color, and blue eyes that locked on you. Briefly but intensely, “Let’s continue our tour.”

The rest of the tour happened in a blur. You felt that you made a good impression on Mr. Speer. He was accepting of your stutter and resonated with all the examples you shared from your past jobs. He informed you that they were interviewing four other applicants but that you’d receive an update in the next week about whether they’d chosen you. 

You felt slightly more confident than when you arrived and you reached for your phone, wanting to text your roommate how it went and that you’d be home soon but you ran into wall of muscle as you stepped onto the elevator, “S-Sorry,” You gasped, reaching down to grab your phone which had slipped from your grasp, “Ssss-so sss-sorry.”

Just shut up, you told yourself, and you found yourself actually speechless when you looked up into Mr. Cameron’s eyes, “Careful,” He said, slightly patronizing, and you wanted to crawl inside your skin. You tucked your phone away into your bag, stepping aside until you were on the other side of the elevator. 

The elevator door closed, and your eyes widened when you realized the elevator was not going down, “Oh,” You breathed, “You’re going up.”

Of course he was going up. The CEO works on the top floor. And now, here you were, stuck in an elevator with the CEO himself, a barista dressed up and pretending to belong in a place you had no right to be.

“Yeah, you can usually tell by looking at the arrows before you get on.”

You pressed your lips together, determined not to say anything more, even though you could feel his eyes on you. He sighed, “You’re new, I’m assuming.”

You shook your head. Breathe, start slowly. “I interviewed today. File Clerk.” Keep it brief, you reminded yourself. There was no need to try to impress the CEO—he was far too important to be involved in hiring someone like you. It was better not to embarrass yourself.

The elevator dinged with each floor that you passed, “Ah, well, I hope you were impressed by all the company has to offer,” he said as the doors opened, revealing a sleek black wall with the Cameron Development logo etched in gold. A waterfall cascaded down the marble surface, exuding elegance, “Enjoy your ride down.” 

“B-Bye-” 

Shut up. 

You reached to press the lobby button, watching as his large figure slowly disappeared down a hallway before the doors shut again. 

 There went that small sliver of confidence.

You went down a rabbit hole googling Cameron Development, of course. Rafe Cameron was just shy of thirty but he inherited the company from his father, Ward, when he was only twenty. It went from a company centered to the Outer Banks to one that served clients across the entire country. According to a website you weren’t sure was actually reputable, his networth was close to 1.3 billion dollars. 

And he thought you were an idiot. Most likely, he wouldn’t remember you all. 

You hoped you wouldn’t run into again when you returned to the Cameron Developent the next week. Andy had called you to let you know that you’d been chosen for the job, but when you approached the receptionist on the first floor, she informed you that you should check in with the receptionist on the twentieth floor. 

Was there another portion of the hiring process that involved meeting someone higher up in the company? You asked her if she’d actually meant that floor twice before the woman rolled her eyes and pretended to answer a phone call. 

The twentieth floor. 

You splurged on a new outfit, hopeful that your new job’s salary would soon replenish your funds. You’d be making ten dollars more per hour, after all. You chose a black, square-neck top and soft cream-colored pants, pairing them with your trusty ballet flats that matched almost everything.

When you arrived on the twentieth floor again, you couldn’t shake the feeling that security might escort you out at any moment. Walking past the elegant waterfall, you found the receptionist desk. The redheaded woman behind it was stunning, and though her smile lacked sincerity, at least she looked you directly in the eyes.

“Hi, I’m supposed to meet with Andy Speer in Record Management?” 

“Are you Y/N Y/L/N?” You nodded as you let out a breath. At least you weren’t in the wrong place. 

“Follow me,” she said, stepping out from behind the desk. She was dressed in a sleek, navy dress adorned with gold buttons down the front, tied with a bow at the waist. You couldn’t help but admire her style, your gaze trailing down to her elegant heels. “You’ll be meeting with Mr. Cameron today.”

“Wh-” Your lips paused in an uncomfortable, rounded position before the block in your speech passed, “Why?”

She didn’t respond, and there wasn’t time to press her as she led you to the end of a long hallway. You found yourself in front of two imposing, black double doors. With a push of the large, gold handles, she opened them to reveal the most elaborate room you’d ever seen.

The sheer scale of the room was breathtaking. Your eyes immediately went up to ceilings at least two floors tall and a gigantic window covering the farther wall. You thought Andy’s view was nice … you could see all of Charlotte from this window. Long black curtains hung from the ceiling to keep some of the light out. When the curtains were drawn, the room would undoubtedly take on a different character—moodier, more intimate, and even more private.

To the right, a stunning black marble fireplace dominated the wall, flanked by a bookcase that stretched the entire length of the room. A plush seating area featured leather couches that looked as comfortable as they were luxurious, with a low coffee table in front. Nearby, a polished bar cart stood ready, stocked with an array of crystal glasses and top-shelf spirits. No doubt to impress clients.

“Holy…” You spoke, as smooth as ever. 

To the left was Rafe and his expansive mahogany desk, positioned to take advantage of the view of the city’s infrastructure. His desk was organized with files stacked neatly, a computer with multiple desktops, and a mug that held steaming coffee. Expensive art pieces were framed on the wall behind him, carefully selected to aid the overall aesthetic of the space. They were dark and imposing like him. 

His chair was high-backed and leather, and as you met his eyes, you noticed he was just as tailored as the room. Broad shoulders and lean frame … you wondered how much time he spent carefully crafting it. He set aside the folder he had been reviewing as the redhead, Eleanor, announced your presence.

"Mr. Cameron, your ten o’clock meeting," she said.

“Thank you, Eleanor. That’ll be all,” His voice was smooth and commanding, “Come sit, Ms. Y/L/N.”

He emphasized the leather chairs in front of his desk and although your legs felt like weights, you crossed the room. You couldn’t help but continue to stare at how impressive it was and now that you’d learned more about him through your research, it made sense. What didn't make sense to you was why you were sitting in front of it. 

He leaned forward, his hands folding together, and instinctively you moved further back in your chair, “I got a chance to look at your application and resume.”

Your eyes widened, “Really?”

He nodded, “You never finished college. Why’s that?”

“I…I don’t understand,” You couldn’t hide the confusion on your face, “I didn’t think I-I would b-b-be …I thought Mr. Speer would be here.”

“He works for me, doesn’t he?”

“Y-Yes-” “You want to work for my company, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you repeated, your voice smaller this time. His head tilted slightly, his gaze sharpening.

“Did you forget my original question?”

“N-No,” You blurted before you took a breath. Relax, you told yourself, despite being aware of the environment that Mr. Cameron had already created, “I …I-”

He was patient but unyielding. You tried to imagine that you were just telling a story and not answering a pointed question. He was worth a billion dollars, not you. You had to answer his questions truthfully.

“I had a bad flare-up with my speech during my sophomore year. I …all throughout highschool it was very mild, but for some unknown reason, it got really sss-severe. My professors were … not accommodating. It felt immm-mmm-impossible.”

He stared at you for an uncomfortable amount of seconds. His piercing gaze had a way of making feeling like you were naked. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, “I see,” He tapped his finger against his desk, “It took me almost eight years to finish business school. By the end, my professor’s were only passing me because of who I was.”

Your lips parted in shock at his sudden candor. 

An ugly truth for an ugly truth.

 “Oh,” you whispered, not knowing what else to say. 

“I’m saying this because it doesn’t matter how many boxes check or how good of a person you are. It doesn’t matter to me what you think you deserve.”

“Okay,” You nodded, still unsure, “I don’t think think I deserve this job. But I want it.”

“How bad?” His lips pulled into a smirk. 

You searched your mind for all the rehearsed interview answers that you’d practiced, “I think I’m a really g-good fit for the–”

“No, what would you do?” He interrupted you, not in the way that people usually did because you were taking too long to speak. He was just completely uninterested in the words you had to say, “Let’s say six months from now, you’re up for a promotion and Andy corners you in his office. It’s ten-thousand more a year. Would you fuck him?”

There was a version of you, the rationale un-scared version of you, that would’ve stood up and walked out of the room. But you froze in place as you searched his eyes for whether he was asking you a trick question. 

Breathe in, let it out slowly, “No, I wouldn’t. I don’t understand.”

“If he hired you as a File Clerk, it would be a great way to get promoted,” Rafe said, “I looked at the other applicants, they’re all more qualified, but you’re more beautiful. It’s a pattern I’m starting to notice with him.”

You couldn’t comprehend why he’d brought you here just to tear you down—to belittle someone who would be working for his own company. Shaking your head, you stammered, “I-I made a mmm-mistake,” as you reached for your bag. But Rafe held up a hand, stopping you in your tracks.

“Don’t worry,” He stood up from his chair. You took a breath and swallowed, trying to keep your heart inside your chest. Hands in his pockets, he walked around the length of his desk until he was in front of you. Even as he leaned back on his desk, his presence seemed to cloud all of your senses, “Mr. Speer does want you to work for him in his department and you’re free to do so. However, I want to hire you as my personal assistant.”

“Uhm,” You blinked, caught off guard. “M-Me?”

“I’m between assistants right now and I think you’d be a perfect fit,” His watched your reaction carefully, his lips in a thin smile. 

Rafe Cameron was a complete asshole. 

“You want me to be your personal assistant?” You asked slowly, trying to prevent a stutter. 

“I want you to be my personal assistant,” he echoed, looking amused, “I think you’re cute.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Because I’m a c-college dropout www-with a stutter?” 

“Not just that,” he shrugged, his nonchalance making you want to scowl. You should’ve walked out already, but something kept you rooted to your seat.  “I think it would be mutually beneficial. The pay starts at eighty-thousand.” 

“A year?” You asked, feeling foolish immediately. 

“That’s almost triple what you make at your barista job.”

You eyed him curiously and wondered how exactly he knew that, “Yeah …”

“So, do you want it or not, Ms. Y/L/N?” The words hung in the air, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say "no." What choice did you really have? Work for a boss who might eventually cross the line—or work for one who’s offering to triple your salary?

“I’d love to give you more time to think it over,” he continued, glancing at his watch, “but I have a meeting in five minutes and will be out of the country for the rest of the week. You’ll need to decide now.”

You bit down on your bottom lip and anxiously picked at the fabric of your pants until you said, “Ninety-thousand.”

“You’re negotiating when you have no experience?” He wasn’t angry, just surprised. 

You nodded, although you were afraid you’d made a mistake. Now, you’d be escorted out by security. But you’d seen something in his eyes—something he wasn’t trying to deny. For reasons you couldn’t quite grasp, he wanted you.

“Eighty-five thousand,” he countered.

You paused, “Okay.”

“Okay?” You nodded again. “Great.”

He clapped his hands together, “W-When would I ssss-start?” 

“A week from now. Monday morning at seven. I get in at seven-thirty, and I expect you to be waiting here. Eleanor will work on getting your new wardrobe delivered to you before then.” 

“Wardrobe?” You echoed, bewildered. 

“I would’ve given you a hundred if you kept pushing,” he said, waving you off as he retreated behind his desk. Your jaw dropped as he added, “That’ll be all.”

The doors to his office opened again, and the redhead waited patiently for you to gather your things and hurry over to her. You glanced behind you to see Rafe intently focused on his computer screen. 

When you finally had enough distance from his office, you asked, “What happened to his last personal assistant?” You thought you might hyperventilate when you were finally alone with your thoughts. 

“Mr. Cameron can be difficult to please,” She smiled down at you, but her eyes were solemn, “Let me take your measurements.”

“Oh, I c-could just t-t-t-tell you,” you stammered, trying to get the words out quickly.

“They’ll need to be exact,” You followed her behind the reception desk. 

You looked at her closer—voluminous hair, a sharp jawline, winged eyeliner that executed perfectly. She was tall, slender, and beautiful, and you felt like you were nothing like her. Again, a child in a place meant for adults. He’d chosen someone like Eleanor, that made sense to you, but you couldn’t wrap your mind around what he saw in you.

Cute, he’d said. You always got cute. Never beautiful. Eleanor probably always got called beautiful. 

You stood still as she took your precise measurements, including around your hips, thighs, and bust. It was another moment where you probably should have run. “About this wardrobe I’ll be receiving…” you began cautiously.

“You’ll only wear what he picks out for you,” She said. 

Breathe. “That’s a little crazy, right?”

“Your job will ensure he has everything he needs—every hour of the day. You want to be nice to look at, don’t you?” 

And you don’t look nice to look at right now.

“Will I have a desk?”

Eleanor gestured to the one across from her, the second of two black desks in a square-shaped pod, “That one is yours, technically.”

“Technically?”

“Did he mention he works from home on Fridays?”

“No-”

“You’ll report to his house at seven a.m. on Fridays rather than here.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Eleanor said with a knowing nod. “Don’t worry, I’ll type this all up in an email for you.”

Later, you sat in your apartment's living room, still in your pajamas. Your roommates, Imani and Angel, were at work for the next few hours, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You scrolled through your old laptop, reading the offer letter from Cameron Development three times: eighty-five thousand dollars plus excellent benefits. You hadn’t even been to the doctor in two years because of how expensive and terrible your insurance was.

You could afford your own apartment. You wouldn’t leave your roommates hanging, of course, but maybe you could in a few months. You could get your own cat like you’ve always wanted. That money would change your life. 

Your clothes arrived with a delivery man who was already frustrated with you. He had to make three trips to bring in all the garment bags Rafe had sent. He grew even more frustrated when you begged him to return some of it. They filled your entire living room, and you’d be a horrible roommate to keep all of it. You’d have to throw out all of your clothes to make them fit in your room. 

When the delivery man left, you started to zip the packages open and examine their contents. Your hands shook when you read the first price tag: a twelve-hundred-dollar Giorgio Armani dress. You began to notice a pattern as you looked at thirty different outfits. There were no black dresses or dark colors at all. Many of them were sad excuses for a woman’s professional work clothes. 

You couldn’t deny that the outfits were sophisticated, but they all seemed to follow a particular theme. If one didn’t feature a mini-skirt, it showcased a sleeveless top. Many had a professional air, with neat rows of buttons running down the front or crafted from rich tweed material. Yet, they were also undeniably frilly and elegant, teetering on the edge of overly dainty. You couldn’t shake the feeling that if you wore one, you’d resemble a Barbie doll more than a personal assistant.

Breaking a sweat, you piled all of the garment bags in your room, leaving only a small amount of room for you to walk from your bedroom to the bathroom. That was going to be a problem. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if you returned some of them. How many outfits did you really need for work? 

The man also brought in a trunk—an oversized, luxurious piece you couldn’t dream of fitting into your tiny shoebox of a room. Once you cleared enough space in the living room, you finally managed to open it. Inside, the left side was lined with rows of pristine heels, each pair more exquisite than the last. On the right, several items were wrapped in burlap sacks made from fine material. You carefully unwrapped one that bore the name GUCCI, revealing a small lilac handbag that looked both delicate and expensive.

God, you thought despite the fact you didn’t believe in him. 

Your roommates were going to think you were some kind of sugar baby or escort. Even if you explained what happened, they might still believe that. 

When you checked your laptop again, there was an email from Eleanor. 

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

Congratulations on your new position at Cameron Development! We are pleased to officially welcome you as Mr. Rafe Cameron's Personal Assistant. 

Below are some key points regarding your new position:

Start Date: Monday, 7:00 AM

Work Location: Cameron Development Headquarters (Mon-Thurs) / Mr. Cameron’s residence (Friday)

Responsibilities: 

You will be expected to manage Mr. Cameron’s daily calendar, remind him of upcoming appointments, and ensure he is well prepared for them. 

You will coordinate all aspects of Mr. Cameron’s travel, including booking flights, accommodations, transportation, and hotels. 

You will complete all of Mr. Cameron's personal errands.

You must maintain strict confidentiality regarding Mr. Cameron’s personal and professional life. 

You will ensure all of Mr. Cameron’s personal needs are met. 

Salary: $85,000

Benefits: Comprehensive health insurance, paid time off, and a company-provided phone and laptop.

Confidentiality: Due to the sensitive nature of your work, a strict non-disclosure agreement (NDA) will be required upon your first day.

A few tips for looking your best: 

Wardrobe: Please adhere to the dress code. Your new wardrobe has been tailored to Mr. Cameron’s preferences. At work, you will not wear dark colors or pants. The items are non-returnable. Always opt for the heels provided. I suggest you practice at home if you’re uncomfortable wearing them. 

Makeup: Your go-to should be a light foundation, a touch of blush, and a subtle lip color. Avoid anything too bold when it comes to eye makeup. 

Hair: A braiding appointment has been arranged for you this upcoming Saturday, fully paid for. Mr. Cameron prefers a more extended length, but you’re free to choose the color as long as it’s natural. 

Remember, the goal is to look effortlessly polished. 

Best regards,

Eleanor Thornton

Executive Assistant to Mr. Cameron

Maybe Rafe Cameron was a sociopath.

Please reblog WITH your thoughts on the chapter to be added to the taglist for the story :)

Shadowed Halls

(Chapter 1)

Summary: For a girl who grew up in a small town in west Texas she'd never known an unfriendly face. People would greet each other with sweet smiles and small talk in the morning, always ready to lend a hand to their neighbor. Any would think this an ideal environment for one to grow and mature in, but as she ventures into unknown territory she'll see just how wrong she was and how much more cautious she should've been.

Word Count: 2.5k

I just finished rewatching Strangers From Hell and it left me wanting to write about it, therefore this was born. If you like it please feel free to leave a like and comment your thoughts <3

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As the taxi rolled to a stop in front of the run-down cobblestone complex, you felt the excitement that had been sitting in your stomach fade slightly the longer you took it in. Your thoughts were cut short by the rough, hacking cough let out by the taxi driver before his eyes cut sharply to you in the rearview mirror. Without saying anything, it wasn't hard to get his message with the impatient raising of his brow. Glancing at the meter, you grabbed your wallet and pulled out some cash before handing it to the man with a timid smile. After he finished counting and deposited the money into the cash box, it was clear that any business he thought he had with you was over as he popped the trunk and unlocked the taxi's door locks. Not wanting to cause any more annoyance to the man, you flashed what you hoped came across as a grateful smile and chirped a goodbye before getting out to retrieve your suitcase from the back. Hauling the suitcase out of the trunk pulled a grumble from within your throat, the cab driver didn't seem to want to offer the same help he'd previously given when you'd loaded it in initially. With one final huff, you were able to get it out and place it on the sidewalk before grabbing your duffle bag. Slamming the trunk closed and walking back onto the concrete sidewalk was all the confirmation the cabbie needed as the tires let out a slight screech as he pulled off. The taxi's departure marked a definitive point; there was no turning back now.

Turning to face the building, a feeling of surreal disbelief flowed through you and left a tingly sensation from the tips of your fingers to your toes. The feeling of success was undeniable; making this move was something that you could only dream of doing while working on the farm with your father. Your parents hadn't exactly been thrilled with the idea when you proposed what you thought would be the next step in your young adult life. Hearing that you wanted to move from Texas to New York nearly sent your mother into cardiac arrest. It took weeks of explaining before they realized how serious you were about following through with your plan. While your mom tried to take the calmer approach, your father had no problem telling you how outlandish and ridiculous your idea was. The determination you had to follow through with your proposition eventually wore them down and got them to support their oldest daughter's dream to spread her wings in the "big city." A vibration from your jeans pocket caused you to jolt before reaching to grab your phone and look at the screen as a smile slowly spread across your face. Hitting the accept call button, you leaned onto one leg and raised the phone to your ear while holding the handle of your suitcase securely in the other hand.

"Hey mom, miss me already?" you greeted with a hint of teasing in your voice. Saying goodbye to your mother had taken the longest, so it wasn't a big surprise to you that she'd be the first to call.

"Hi Sugar, I just wanted to check on you. You said you'd call when you landed, but it's been 2 hours since your flight got in. You know I worry," the soft voice with a southern twang that could only belong to her mother rang through your ears.

"I'm sorry mama, you wouldn't believe how plumb crazy the airport over here is. I swear it took me nearly an hour to get my luggage and then another half hour to flag down a cab. I just reached the apartment complex; I still need to go get the keys," you explained to your fretting mom while people rushed by you on the sidewalk, smiling at the few that seemed to cast you inquisitive or annoyed looks.

"I warned you, city folk move like someone's lit a fire in their pants. You'll get the hang of it soon. Remember that papa's already paid the first three months' rent for you. Once you save money from your new job, you'll have to take it over yourself, but everything should be sorted with that---" Your mother's chirping faded out when your attention shifted to a man who walked out of the doors of the complex. He was dressed in a grey suit and held a black briefcase; you couldn't help but feel like he looked like he walked off the pages of those fancy fashion magazines they have at the doctor's office. In your daze, you couldn't help but find it odd that a man that looked as sophisticated as him would be walking out of the worn-down building you'd be calling home for the time being. As if he felt your steady gaze being directed his way, his narrowed gaze cut up to yours from where it'd previously been focused on scrolling through his phone. You held the contact for a second before it sunk in that he'd caught you more or less gawking and you looked to the ground in embarrassment. Manners had always been something that your mother and grandmother had stressed over drilling into your head; leering at someone was sure to get your knuckles rasped with the wooden spatula. When a respectable amount of time seemed to pass, you glanced back up to find the man gone and breathed out a sigh of relief before refocusing back onto your mother.

"I've just finished sending out your stuff; Bobbie down at the shipping office said it should reach you by the end of the week, and then you can get the movers to bring it over to your apartment. Don't forget you have to call them, bunny." She finished before you heard a garbled voice call out for her in the background.

"I'll call you back later tonight, sweetie; your brother needs me. You just get your keys and get settled in, okay? Love you!"

"Love you too, ma," you chirped back with a smile before hearing the telltale click which signaled that she'd hung up the phone.

Sliding your phone back into the safety of your back pocket, you readjusted the slipping strap of your duffle and made your way to the stairs that led to the front door of the apartment complex.

Opening the door and making your way in didn't leave a better impression than simply looking from outside did. The harsh fluorescent lights on the ceiling seemed to buzz from overuse and served mostly to highlight the light dusting of dirt that coated the floors. Straight across from the entrance was an elevator with a handwritten 'out of order' sign taped in the middle. To the right was a set of stairs that presumably would lead to the upper floors, and to the left was the front that you'd been looking for—a faded green door with the word 'office' labeled on it in equally faded gold script.

Breathing a slight sigh of relief at finding the office so easily, you hiked your duffle further up your shoulder and made your way over to the door. Raising your hand up, you rapped your knuckles against the hard wood next to the frosted glass windowpane and waited until you heard a croaked-out voice call to come in before releasing a rough cough.

Turning the handle and stepping inside with a smile, you were greeted with an older man sitting in front of a desk shuffling through a stack of papers with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, seemingly looking for something. He looked to be around your pa's age, his hair more of a receding line with splotches of grey mixed into what once was black. The clicking that signaled the opening of the door caught his attention and caused him to halt his search as his dull grey eyes scanned you from head to toe while a smirk hitched one side of his lips up. The smoke that filled the room burned your lungs the longer you stood in the room, and the slightly cracked window to the left of his desk did little to help.

Flashing the man another smile, you glanced at the nameplate on his desk before beginning. "Hello, Mr. Miller, I'm your new tenant and was told to come here to pick up the keys for my apartment. I just got in today; I'm Y/N L/N."

"Hello, darling, yes, I remember; welcome to Pinecrest Manor. Had I known we'd have a little doll moving in today, I'd have dressed up a bit more for the occasion," he responded playfully while standing to leer at you before walking over to the glass case on the right side of the wall that held numerous pairs of keys. As Mr. Miller sauntered over to the glass case filled with keys, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of discomfort and impatience. The smoke-laden air made your throat itch, and you subtly coughed again, hoping to avoid inhaling more of it.

He continued to talk as he riffled through the keys, his voice raspy and slightly amused. "Ah, you said Y/N L/N, right? Yes, your paperwork is all here. Pinecrest Manor isn't much to look at, but we do our best to keep things in order around here." He chuckled to himself, finding his own comment amusing.

You nodded politely, though you were eager to receive your keys and get settled into your new apartment. Glancing around the office, you noticed the outdated décor and the layer of dust on some of the surfaces. It wasn't exactly the welcoming environment you had hoped for, but it would have to do for now.

After what felt like an eternity of Mr. Miller fumbling through keys, he finally selected a set and turned back to you with a grin. "Here we are, darling," he said, extending the keys towards you. "Apartment 305, up on the third floor. Elevator's out of order, so you'll have to take the stairs. But I'm sure a young thing like yourself won't mind the exercise." He paused before raking his eyes up and down the length of you as you stood to receive the keys. "You need some help finding it; I wouldn't want a sweet girl like you getting lost on your first day here."

You took the keys from where he dangled them teasingly out to you with a polite thank you, managing a small smile despite the persistent discomfort of the smoky room. "I'm sure I'll be able to manage. Thank you, Mr. Miller. I appreciate your help."

Though he looked mildly disappointed by the rebuff, he nodded, his smirk widening a fraction. "Anytime, Y/N. And if you need anything else, you know where to find me."

With that, you turned to leave, eager to escape the stifling office and finally settle into your new home. As you closed the door behind you, you took a deep breath of fresher air in the hallway, relieved to be out of Mr. Miller's smoke-filled domain.

As you made your way down the hallway, the dimly lit corridor of Pinecrest Manor seemed to stretch endlessly. The faint buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead added to the eerie atmosphere, contrasting sharply with the relative brightness of the office you had just left. You glanced down at the keys in your hand, feeling a mix of anticipation and apprehension about what lay ahead.

The worn carpet under your feet creaked softly with each step as you approached the stairwell. With a slight hesitation, you gripped the handrail and began ascending to the third floor. The staircase, much like the rest of the building, showed signs of age and neglect. Faded paint, scuff marks, and occasional cobwebs greeted you as you climbed higher.

Finally reaching the third-floor landing, you navigated your way to apartment 305. The hallway here was eerily quiet, the only sound being your own footsteps and the distant hum of the building's ventilation system. As you approached the faded green door labeled 305, you inserted the key and turned the lock.

The door swung open with a slight creak, revealing your new home. Stepping inside, you found yourself in a modestly sized living room. Sunlight filtered through dusty blinds, casting faint patterns on the worn carpet. The furnishings were basic but functional—a worn couch, a small coffee table, and a TV on a stand in the corner.

Setting your duffle bag down with a thud, you took a moment to survey the space. It wasn't luxurious by any means, but it would serve its purpose as your sanctuary for the foreseeable future. You walked through to the kitchenette, noting the outdated appliances and the flickering fluorescent light above the sink.

The bedroom was similarly modest, with a double bed pushed against one wall and a small dresser nearby. A narrow window offered a view of the neighboring buildings, their own faded facades staring back at you.

As you unpacked your belongings and began to settle in, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over you since entering Pinecrest Manor. The interaction with the building manager left a sour taste in your mouth, and the first impressions of the building weren't fitting into what you'd pictured the whole flight over. Closing the drawer of the dresser after placing the last of your belongings inside, you glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand and saw the time flash back at you—2:00 PM.

Suddenly, a new feeling rushed through you as you realized where you were and what you'd done. Walking over to the double bed, you sat down and scanned around the room one more time, a new light making everything seem so much better. In contrast to when you'd first walked in, you felt like there was so much possibility and hope to be found in your new apartment. Letting out a squeal of excitement, you fell back onto the mattress and let all the excitement rush through your body in the form of more squealing and tapping of your feet from where they still rested on the floor.

In your excitement, you failed to realize how loud you'd been until you heard three rough bangs coming from the connecting wall with your neighbor which jolted you back to reality. Snapping back up to sit straight on the bed, you went quiet and waited a minute to see if they continued; when they stayed silent, you released a breath of relief before falling back down. As you went back to quietly getting lost in your thoughts about how you'd decorate your new space and fantasizing about the adventures you'd have in this new environment, a ping from your phone sounded before it began to ring with a familiar ringtone that caused a smile to spread across your lips. Sliding the device out from your back pocket, you held it up in front of you to confirm what you already knew you'd see and sat up while swiping to accept the call and holding it up to your ear.

"Hello?"

Brooo 10/10 recommend you to read

in search for a friend

clyde logan x female!reader

summary: finding a real friend can be hard so when you finally found one, you were head over heels but that was until he decided he didn’t want you around anymore.

warnings: 18+, smut, darkish clyde, innocent reader, naive reader, dub-con, stalker-ish behavior, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, jealousy, innocence kink, size kink, public segghs, cunnilingus yeet, angst, insecurities, loss of virginity, bleeding, creeps at the bar, sucky ending, surprise appearance of someone 😏 (im not being sleek bc he’s literally on the mood board thingy i made), i have no idea how bionic arms work, tell me if I missed something

word count: 8.9k

a/n: this is for you, Ora @crappedoutlungs 🥴 thank you for dragging me into the adam driver train 💀

I havent written in a long time so this is going to be rusty. Expect the smut to be cringy ✌🏼🥴

masterlist

You knew Mellie from the salon. Your mother didn’t really force you to go but she would drag you with her to get a monthly hair day or sometimes, weekly mother and daughter time. It was a bit of a fiddly ritual but you eventually got used to it. You blamed it on your mother missing you at home ever since you got old enough to move out. She always did treat you like her baby girl and accepted that she would never grow out of that phase. You liked having your mom around. It’s not like you had many friends in town. Others may think of you clueless but you know what they say behind your back.

Mellie sometimes lacked a filter when talking to her customers and you were no different from the other customers. It was admirable though. You admired her honesty more than those two-faced people who call themselves a friend. That being said, her lack of filter made you understand why people seemed to be avoiding you in town. It’s not like you were awful, no. You tried your best to be the best version of yourself for people but when Mellie’s words came out of her mouth, you found your whole body warming up in embarrassment. 

“People say you think you’re too good for anyone. You’re like this perfect lil girl and I guess everyone just got sick of the innocent thing going on,” You thought you saw Mellie looking almost guilty and concerned but the look was gone with a shrug.

Keep reading

The Flaw in Every Crystal

Chapter Two:  'Welcome to Praxus' Part 2

aka Tour of the City

aka That Bad Feeling Isn’t Going Away

aka Writing this late as stress relief after QUITE A DAY so sorry for the tangents

So, Prowl has a day off and its time to go sightseeing. This is the only time Jazz really can since he needs Prowl as an escort to go anywhere on threat of banishment. Kinda wonder then if they make you pay for your exit ticket or if the city pays to send you off...do they buy you the worst seats? Can you upgrade your exile ticket? Do you have to go back to the origin city or is it one of those “you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here”? 

I wonder how stir crazy Jazz has been going cooped up at Prowl’s home so much. Odd how such a big deal is made out of how secretive Praxus is but Prowl assumes that Jazz already has places he knows about in the city and wants to be taken to. Then again, it is only polite to ask Jazz first and it is kinda Jazz’s job to know these things. I also wonder why Jazz hasn’t contacted anyone about his paperwork being stolen. Like call his boss to try to arrange for some new ones? I know that it may be a rare occurrence but I feel that it shouldn’t be unheard of. Maybe Jazz would have to show up to get new papers himself and doesn’t want to force Prowl to go through the red tape again?

I like how I read this part as: 

Jazz: “what do you do for fun?”

Prowl: “I’m not sure I follow.” What is this “fun” you speak of?

Kinda weird vaguely knowing what happens from having read the story multiple times before.  Seeing Prowl reminding Jazz about how best to see the city for a job that Prowl knows full well Jazz is never going back to feels like it should be creepy now, but I find it more confusing than anything else. We also have Prowl reminding Jazz that he doesn’t count as a tourist anymore but frames it as having an Escort rather than being a hopeful future citizen. Like why play pretend when Jazz already, in Prowl’s mind at least, already agreed to stay? I would say its just Prowl screwing with him, but that’s not who he is in this story. Maybe Prowl’s trying to buy time while the paperwork goes through? Or he knows deep down how Jazz will react and is trying to put it off?

Yes, explain what this “music” is Jazz, is it like the “dancing” banished by the elders from our city of Elmore?

I wonder if the fact that Praxian music can only be heard by Praxians mean the city would seem eerily quite to anyone not Praxus in the non-tourist areas. 

So I guess there isn’t some chip on Jazz or anything. It was more just that anyone no Praxian in Praxus is going to be talking to the police....a lot. I wonder why they ask Prowl if he knows Jazz is following than just asking Jazz why he’s there in the first place since they are outside of the tourist sections. 

So no one talks to them but they are saying something in wing. I assume its just the standard “Hi!” “Hi.” Odd that they aren’t even getting stared at with a non-native in the gardens. Maybe politeness trumps curiosity?

I have a feeling that all the conversations between Jazz and Prowl so far has been that whole “honest but if you don’t ask directly about a topic you won’t get much” type.

I wonder if any wings would be able to hear the crystals “sing” or if its just praxian. Would a seeker just hear nails on a chalkboard?

"So I can't hear any of it without a pair of wings myself?" Jazz asked, to which Prowl nodded. Jazz gave a soft ex-vent at the missed opportunity but refused to let it get him down. Instead he joked, "makes me kinda wish I did have some."

Oh god the foreshadowing.

I wonder what happens if the wings are rejected by the mech. Do they just die, are they scarred for life? Is it seen as shameful even though the mech would have no say in it?

I feel for Jazz in this situation with the two mechs on the street. You don’t know what’s going on or how to really help, but you can’t just stand there and do nothing. It’s also a bit sad to see how brainwashed/naive Prowl is to be thinking to himself how no one would injure their mate on purpose. Also I wonder how much/often/how the whole ”we are morally better, its the outside world that is scary/bad/morally wrong”.  It also leads to the whole believing a low crime rate to a lack of crime rather than examining what the laws are and how they are enforced. It reminds me kinda about how I think its Sweden has a higher rate of sex crimes not because there are more rapists there but rather because their definition of a sex crime encompasses more situations than here.

Uh, nothing creepier to me than trying to do something for someone’s “own good” as though of course you know them better than they do. I wonder if someone would become property of Praxus if their mate just didn’t come back for them, or died. Would the leftover mate automatically go to the city or the next living relative?

"It is a harsh punishment, but so is the crime of hurting the innocent, and it is only through fear of such intense repercussions that we can prevent unruly behaviors." FORESHADOWING!!!

On that ominous note: See ya in chapter 3!

Flaw in Every Crystal Chapter 3

'Welcome to Praxus' Part 3

aka Welcome to the Hotel California

So, Jazz is finally starting to catch on to the fact that something is rotten in Denmark. Kinda cool getting the feed back and now being able to read this chapter knowing without a doubt that Jazz was never going to be able to get on that transport, Prowl or no Prowl. 

Odd that Prowl notices things out of place as in having already considered all of Jazz belongs to be “theirs” and therefore belonging in the home. I wonder if there is anything then that Prowl doesn’t approve of that was “misplaced” by Jazz at some point? I also wonder if they have been going dutch on all meals, Jazz was going to leave some credits to pay his way, or if he just let Prowl get the bills? 

It really shows Jazz’s now unease with Prowl after Prowl had shown just how cold and accepting of Praxus justice he could be in how Jazz tries to leave before Prowl can even get home. We also see this in how Jazz reacts by not telling Prowl that he wishes to go home but rather make an excuse about how he has to leave. It rather reminds me of stories of girls being afraid to say no to a creepy guy and inside coming up with an excuse to avoid him.

I still have a hard time telling if Prowl is messing with Jazz, not getting how it isn’t obvious that Jazz is staying there now, or still trying to avoid the confrontation with Jazz about what is going on. He still speaks rather vaguely saying how unfortunate it is that Jazz is being called away, meaning Jazz is losing his job, not that Jazz has to go. He finally lays it out at the very end of the conversation: that Jazz isn’t going anywhere.

Sidenote: Is part of the research going into approving a mate seeing if they have any family or other lovers before taking them? I can’t imagine the city being happy if someone’s family/mate from another city comes looking for them and finds out what is going on. 

I assume that since Prowl is the “dominate” mate, he gets all the paperwork and therefore make it so that Jazz never had to appear in front of any council to get approved, but other pairs (raised in Praxus) go together like how people get a marriage certificate together nowadays? If/when someone is “trained”/properly mated, is there like a party? Marriage, thing?

Odd how Prowl was trying to avoid telling Jazz what was going on all this time, but now is like “but you’re a citizen that can go anywhere now, isn’t this what you wanted?” Kinda glad that I’m getting to reread this after reading “These shackles you forged” (http://archiveofourown.org/works/7031566/chapters/15999883) (fanfic about skids/tarn, where Tarn “trains” skids. Very dark.) for the first time. Its cool seeing the parallels between Tarn and Prowl here in trying to get their victim to feel that this is the logical course of all of the choices that the victim has made rather than just them being backed into a trap. Of course Tarn’s take a much more sexual nature rather than Prowl’s physical, but then again, Tarn has “trained” Skids a lot faster than Prowl trained Jazz. Very interesting comparing the two is all I am saying.

Anyway, back to the story at hand. I am kinda disappointed that we don’t see what the datapad says since Jazz just glances at it and is otherwise preoccupied. I wonder if it would be just one of those “insert name here forms” or actually explain more about what is going on to Jazz, laying out rules and regulations expected of him now. 

We also see that Prowl doesn’t try to physically restrain Jazz from leaving at this moment. Instead he simply tells Jazz how pointless it would be to try to go. Maybe Prowl doesn’t want to see himself as so much of the bad guy yet? Or does he see Jazz as someone who has to run headfirst into the door first before being told that it’s a pull door? 

I am a bit confused still though. If Prowl didn’t arrange for Jazz’s datawork to go missing, then why would someone steal it? Jazz says they take a scan of Jazz’s frame to match against the datawork, so does that mean that only Jazz can use it or could someone with the same frame work pass himself off as Jazz in order to leave? And why does Jazz having identifying documentation now? Is it different from the other paperwork? Like his passport is gone, but he has his driver’s license? 

I wonder if they contacted Prowl, or if Prowl just guessed where Jazz would be? I assume the wait for joors that Jazz endured was deliberate by Prowl to really let lesson one sink in. Also did they scan Prowl to ensure he was Jazz’s mate, or did Prowl just have to claim so? If they just go by word of mouth I can see bots getting kidnapped that way to pay back petty grudges to the dominate mate. 

We now also see Prowl getting serious. I wonder since the paperwork was made official just today if training was going to start now anyway, or if Prowl would let Jazz stay in the dark about the whole thing a bit longer? Since Jazz forced Prowl’s hand here, but based on how Prowl acts later in the story, I could see Prowl just pretending a bit longer and letting Jazz think he could still go back if only to be able to spend more time with the Jazz who caught his optic without having to deal with any arguments. Now that could be another story, Prowl trying to train Jazz by subtly telling him about Praxian culture seeing how far into it Jazz will get before realizing the truth. I almost want to say that may be me projecting a more “okay” less physical punishment preference on Prowl that doesn’t exist.

I just can’t believe that Prowl thought Jazz would just become a perfect sub once he was told he was now a citizen, though knowing what I know happens later, maybe he did.

I wonder how long Prowl had the collar and room set up? He had to have had it before Jazz arrived, so is the secret torture room just standard in houses in Praxus? Are there homes made to include the training rooms, or did Prowl just figure he would probably prefer someone outside of Praxus? Or did Prowl have someone come in a quickly set things up while he was showing Jazz around the city?

Did Prowl have the collar or did he go out and buy one while Jazz was in transport center isolation? So creepy to think that while Jazz was sleeping, eating, or otherwise unaware, Prowl was researching his frame type. I wonder if Prowl actually asked Jazz questions about it to use against him later. 

What’s worse is seeing Prowl’s, what must seem to Jazz a 180 flip in personality, as just who Prowl is mixed with who society has raised him to be, with society coming more to the front now. 

We also see Prowl stop referring to Jazz by name now. Instead it is “sub” and “this mech”. It is like Prowl views him completely differently now, not explaining anything just demanding to be obeyed. 

So is Prowl’s seemingly preference for physical punishment, excluding the isolation of course, the norm or is that just what Prowl was taught? I think that there was a sidestory/ spin off that used a more emotional angle but I don’t know how canon that is.And the...event....coming in the far future with Prowl’s partner is...not quite physical punishment, but Barricade seemed to prefer physical punishment with his subs too from what I remember.

And so we end on Jazz taking stock as Prowl prepares for work.

Till next time!

The Flaw in Every Crystal Chapter 4

'Welcome to Praxus' Part 4

aka The Great Escape, Plan A

aka My work schedule finally lightened up a bit

Gotta admire Jazz’s spirit and resourcefulness, even if it did result in him blowing himself up...multiple times..

You can really feel how desperate Jazz is here to just get out of the room and away from the house even if he doesn’t have a real plan and already knows what will happen if he tries to leave the city. 

This is really kinda a no win for him. Praxus doesn’t seem to have a homeless population he could blend in with, his frame type is different enough to get him spotted immediately, and he doesn’t have a lot with him. Even trying to get someone to help him could just leave him in a worse position of being someone’s “pet” and being blackmailed with arrest and becoming property of Praxus.

So Prowl took a while to find out that the source of the smell of hurt mech and recent explosion was THAT ROOM, which makes me worry a bit about the real possibility that Jazz could have been forgotten in there. Not for long mind you, and Jazz wouldn’t have realized, but still. Kinda darkly funny to imagine Prowl about to go to sleep, then suddenly his eyes light up with an “oh shit!” expression as he goes to check on Jazz.

Poor Jazz completely lost track of time it seems while injured, and couldn’t have gotten the door open by himself. Its good there was nothing else flammable in there or he would have gotten out of Praxus in the most permanent way possible. And from how Prowl describes what he finds, Jazz did almost make that trip.

“Prowl, what happened to that mech you worked so hard to get as a mate?” “Oh, he exploded....quite tragic...”

Probably the creepiest parts of this story is just how much Jazz’s terror and sadness are down played by everyone around him. Even here Prowl is treating this more as a costly annoyance, seemingly not even thinking that Jazz just admitted he was desperate enough to cause a small explosion to try to escape the room. The fact that the medic automatically goes to “trouble training huh?” like a firefighter called to deal with a kitchen damaged after a cooking accident/fire. I worry what something “too extreme” would be? An outright suicide attempt? Even that I could see as being spun as “oh, guess that mech just wasn’t a right fit/guess he had prior emotional problems/these things happen.” Not to mention trying to comfort someone when you’re the one causing them to be in pain. 

Prowl says the medic wears traditional colors, but is it the same colors or lighter/grayer shades of them since she is the sub in a prior relationship?

 Kinda wish there was a time glossary at the top of the chapter. Otherwise I associate joor = about an hour while orn = about a day to a transformer. So Jazz says he was locked up for an hour, medic says a few hours and Prowl says he was gone five days? I know that I’m probably reading that wrong but I don’t really have a reference. Jazz isn’t complaining about low fuel and we don’t read him refueling so I don’t think it could have been more than what they would consider a day to be...

We also see Jazz send out comms to both his friend, Blaster, and his boss. We later see Blaster trying to help out but never the boss. I wonder if the boss doesn’t know, didn’t get the comm, or got some kind of compensation to “fire” Jazz and no longer care about his employee? Maybe even a forged note from Jazz saying he quit and decided to stay in Praxus? That one I could very easily see happening.

We also see that although the medic is in a loving relationship, she can still get talked over, with Prowl stating that he would talk to Derby to come up with compensation for her mate being damaged by Jazz. I’m almost surprised that Prowl listens to her being so flippant about saying how no compensation is necessary even if she does say that her mate allows her to make some of these decisions. It does really show even in a good relationship overall the system only works because the dominate mate “allows” the sub some say in her life. It does lead to the worry of what would happen one day if the mate decided that being a medic was too dangerous and decided that she should quit. There would be really no recourse for the medic, would there?

It’s like Triage understands perfectly what danger Jazz is in and her only advice is to stop fighting and just give in. It’s especially ironic since that would probably be the fastest way to have Prowl lose all interest in him, since a Jazz who doesn’t fight back is pretty much dead inside.

 Ah yes, Jazz wanting to see Praxus “as a citizen” and the through review that included never talking to Jazz about it. “You probably misunderstood something” but too bad because its already done and you have no rights now!

You know, this type of bonding seems like a fast and easy way to get some nice, skilled personal slave labor. 

I love that Prowl sees alerting the medic to a stuck door as overly cautious but still was willing to leave Jazz alone in a room. Though I guess for him he was thinking he would only be gone for a few minutes and what could Jazz possibly do in that amount of time? Though now that Prowl can drop Jazz in an instant it really wasn’t much of a problem.

And now Prowl has a new, harder to break out of room. Yaaayyy... we also see how adaptable Jazz can be, now going along with it since he doesn’t want to die and starving out of spite won’t get him to his goal. We see Prowl almost treating Jazz like a child, feeding him, petting him, and then saying “Are you going to be good now and behave?” In pretty much the same wording my parents would say to me after a time out.

And it seems like at one point Jazz did read the bonding datapad. We see Jazz trying to discuss things with Prowl and Prowl not rejecting, but still acting like he’s indulging Jazz in this. Odd Jazz mentions seeing his mentor, yet he didn’t try to comm him. Could it be the mentor is worse off than Jazz and couldn’t help?

It’s really sad to see Prowl react to what he wants from Jazz. It seems like he wants only Jazz’s good traits. Its almost like he wants two different mechs. The perfect sub in public and the Jazz he finds interesting in private. I could almost see that working and Jazz going along with it if it was an outside force keeping Jazz there rather than Prowl. 

Prowl mentions training almost like its an arms race with wound returned for wound until you just wear the other down. Prowl really thinks too highly of himself. Jazz point blank tells him, no, this isn’t going to work, continue and you will lose me. And Prowl just waves it off saying Jazz could still have goals that he may even get to keep if a third carries. Though I cannot imagine Jazz with another in the house. He would either hate/try to hurt the third if they didn’t go along with trying to escape. 

And then Jazz lashes out at Prowl again after Prowl says how much better Jazz will have it here. Only to be locked away again. I wonder if one of the other things Prowl secretly likes about Jazz is how Jazz can get so much of a rise out of Prowl, even having Prowl leave while flipping Jazz the middle figure in door speak. And Jazz is left in the dark trying to soothe himself.

Thus ends another chapter. Till nex time!

The Flaw in Every Crystal Chapter 5

Welcome to Praxus Arc Part 5

Aka: The hand that feeds you

Aka: Risks and Rewards

Here we see just how cold and detached Prowl can be as he takes in Jazz’s condition after six orns being left in THAT ROOM. Spoiler: it ain’t great. Jazz has pretty much no energy to fight here, instead just wondering when Prowl will finally get bored enough to end it. Or at least the bit of his mind still online in a 3/4′s starved condition. 

We also see the return of Triage to the scene to help get Jazz all the way back up from 5/8′s slagged to probably 1/2 to 1/3 slagged! Yay, so helpful! I wonder what they dilute the energon with that would make it safe to consume but not add anything they can use. Also if this is the kind of fic were the transformers bodies can self-cannibalize so Jazz is loosing mass to this or if its just you offline if you don’t eat.  

And oh god, Triage tries to make small talk “So....how you doing?” “I see you decorated your room in processed energon, I prefer green paint myself, but its good to take an active part in your training, accepting the room, trying to make it your own.” “How did you like the city? See any sights?” “I never thought about travel myself, so barbaric out there...” “You just gotta let yourself be happy here, and then you will be! We can even go on double dates with if they allow it! Wouldn’t that be fun!” 

So, Prowl did almost starve Jazz. “What happened to your mate that exploded a while back?” “He didn’t explode, he caused an explosion in a small space. Then he accidentally starved to death” “Ah, rookie mistake. Don’t worry, you’ll do better next time, I’m sure. Plenty of crystals in the garden and all that.”

I assume that the serious wounds Prowl needs to regularly check are from said earlier exploding incident. Is the checking that energon isn’t leaking through or that the metal isn’t coming back in all warped?

Poor Jazz mentioned caring about something, aka his visor, and now Prowl knows what he can give/take from Jazz to keep him in line. But Jazz still has his snark to him to he’s slowly coming back. Gotta love Prowl’s “if you hand’t of curled into the fetal position in a half-starved state, your neck wouldn’t hurt now. Honestly, its simple cause and effect.” 

Now we see Jazz starting to try to feel out different situations, testing how much Prowl will let him get away with. And then Jazz gets a reward for towing Prowl’s line, a blanket. One which unknown to Jazz at the moment, will one day hold him hostage. A two sided blanket if you will. Its nice to reread stories and see the first time a reoccurring object appears.

Prowl seems almost desperate now to reward Jazz for not fighting him on energon and for saying thank you for the blanket, already giving Jazz back his arm movement. Even Jazz seems confused by the sudden shower (two) good things he has back now. Maybe Jazz’s multiple brushes with death have affected Prowl more than I thought at first. Or Prowl is getting impatient and wants to get on with more of the training already.

Now checking on Jazz becomes a habit for Prowl, like me watering my flowers or feeding my fish every morning. We even see Prowl rewarding Jazz by coming in and talking to Jazz on his level rather than talk to Jazz from above him in a standing position. Jazz, having caught on to some of the game, is working on self-restraint at having Prowl so close but not being able to do anything against him. 

It just occurred to me to wonder if Prowl is coming up with rewards as he views how Jazz is or if this is a mental valuing of the different rewards Prowl can give Jazz. Is it that he saw that Jazz was uncomfortable in recharge, so the reward was a blanket, or does Prowl assign the blanket the lowest value and was therefore the first reward given like a 5-ticket prize in an arcade? Especially since he brings up the pain-blockers now once Jazz has complained about the pain, or was he holding back offering the pain blockers until Jazz had dealt with the pain at least an orn? 

Jazz also knows that anything given to him can be ripped away, so he doesn’t want to value anything since it will hurt less that way to lose it, but feels such relief with them its hard not to care. 

Maybe Prowl is pretty much showering Jazz with rewards to try to super renforce the training? Like “I can bake these cookies for 10 minutes at 420C, or for 10 seconds at 5000C!” Its “I can give Jazz one reward a day for good behavior, or give him 10 different good things for nonbad behavior!” Like some part of him does hate the punishments and so is really trying to show Jazz that they can play nice. This is confirmed even by Prowl saying to himself that he had probably been too lenient when Jazz tries to snark about being able to feed himself. 

It does sent the precedent here for later on that Prowl in the earlier days seems almost eager to over-reward Jazz.

Till next time!

The Flaw in Every Crystal Chapter 6

Welcome to Praxus Arc Part 6

aka Enter Player Two

aka Someone deserves an Oscar

aka I forgot how long these posts can get, and feel this may be the longest. Sorry.

So, Prowl is returning from Jazz’s punishment for talking back to him at the end of the last issue. Though he did leave Jazz the blanket for behaving before then. Jazz is trying to take as much comfort as he can from wrapping himself in the blanket and dreading Prowl’s return. 

Prowl says he is examining all of Jazz’s movements as a prelude to bad behavior which I assume would cause Prowl to leave again. Prowl is trying to get Jazz to start self-policing his actions and start to correct behaviors before they are committed; we see this since Prowl asks if Jazz understands why he was punished. If Jazz acknowledges what Prowl found to be wrong, Prowl can assume that Jazz will not do it again, or punish him even further if he does. 

We also see the narrative here, we can assume its not direct thoughts since the story is told in seemingly third person but more in Prowl’s perspective (at least at first), that Jazz refuses to sallow his pride, and later when Jazz is referred to as “The Praxian’s bonded” when he starts acting the way Prowl wants him to. This is interesting since in most other stories, pride is seen as an unbecoming trait; something to cometh before the fall if you will. Yet it is not boasting that Jazz is committing here, he is not thinking of himself as more skilled or higher than anyone. Instead he simply thinks of himself as higher than his current station as a non-person. This is why I said the narration, though seemingly third person, is colored with Prowl’s view. Therefore it is accusing Jazz of thinking he is above his station, as Prowl’s sub-mate, since that is how Prowl chooses to conceptualize Jazz’s actions at the moment.

Unless this is now how Jazz has begun to see himself now as well. Viewing pride in this context as self-respect rather than how he compares himself to others.

I almost want to say that we can see more of Prowl’s impatience here to move things along since for Jazz’s remarks Prowl makes a threat rather than leaving again to let the isolation wear at Jazz more. 

Now that I think of it, we don’t really see the isolation set in the way that I would expect it to if utilized to its utmost potential. Jazz never reaches the point of isolation-induced hallucinations that we can see so readily in humans separated from others. Though I can’t tell if this is because of Prowl checking on him so regularly that it doesn’t get to that point because an insane mate isn’t the goal here, Jazz’s mental fortitude, or if its just a case of Transfomers don’t work that way.

We see Jazz realize that just rebelling from a place of no power won’t really do anything. So I get to be reminded of one of my favorite lines/themes from TAAO about how its a game with very high stakes, but a game all the same. And now Jazz has decided to play it. Its too bad though he seems to still have enough pride to see himself as a player instead of a valuable piece in his own right. He cannot help but think that Prowl would let him offline in that room, while I highly doubt that Prowl would intentionally let Jazz die. Because Jazz doesn’t see himself as the king piece of the game (the most valuable, least mobile, and the thing that ultimately decides the game’s outcome), he can’t properly use the one thing that Prowl values most in the game: Jazz himself. I remember vaguely that in the future, and even here Jazz freely talks about how he will die if left here, and how Prowl will kill him, but it is always in this context. Prowl and Triage can brush off these concerns because they both know that it is not what Prowl wants to happen. But I wonder what would happen if Jazz held himself hostage, therefore threatening the one thing Prowl cares about that he would always have access to. Sure Prowl could then restrain Jazz to stop the threat from going through, but it would still at least be out there and give Jazz some much needed leverage against him. But I can totally understand if Jazz doesn’t want to go that direction since it would really require total commitment to follow through on the threat, otherwise it becomes meaningless and Jazz obviously doesn’t want to die period so it may not even occur to him.

Jazz keeps his answers short and vague to allow himself to play the part and get Prowl to fill in whatever he wants to. It seems almost like a call and response exchange from a play between Jazz and Prowl. We also see that this is just a prelude to the training meant to get the “mate” in the proper state of mind to be rebuilt with new values like in any good cult, army, what have you.

Though it is interesting that beyond saying how Jazz can’t have a job and how much better Praxus is than anywhere else, Prowl never really belittles Jazz. We don’t get any yelling at him, no talk about how his is worthless, or was before at least, and nothing to really make Jazz doubt his own self-worth beyond treating him like a prisoner. Maybe because Prowl can’t see the point in lying to Jazz like that when Prowl doesn’t feel that way about Jazz?

Prowl then gives Jazz the rules and makes sure they stick. Asking Jazz to memorize a huge list of what would be expected from Jazz, mostly serving Prowl in all aspects and keeping the house. Its the reciting that is probably key since once Jazz can repeat it easily it will be that much harder to ever get ride of the words. Jazz of course fails in the broad sense but gets the choice of punishment between being immobilized or starved again. Still gets to keep the blanket though so the food and cuffs must be seen then as lesser punishments.

Also, is having sparklings required of all couples? Prowl does make reference to it a lot as something that must happen someday but there doesn’t seem to be any kind of rush or time limit in place. Especially since Prowl even brought up that Jazz may not even have to carry if they find a third.

Anyway, Jazz is in full actor mode now, pretty much giving Prowl the mate he wants Jazz to be. We see more of Prowl wanting to be over this part of the training, as I have mentioned before, since Prowl says that Jazz could probably leave the room soon instead of keeping it more vague (like a more “we will see” or “only you can decide that” wording) since I assume leaving the room would be a more ultimate reward. 

We then get Jazz begging Prowl to not force the energon on him, on one hand because he truly can’t stand it, but on the other telling Prowl a great weapon to be used against Jazz in the future. Prowl does also get reward ideas from it as well. Prowl also rewards Jazz for asking for the list to be recited by condensing the rules to make it easier for Jazz to remember them. Though Jazz still finds himself unable to get past the part about being expected to reproduce with Prowl. 

We also see that Jazz sees Prowl as expecting perfection while Prowl at first only wants Jazz to put in an effort, but he doesn’t say “I appreciate the effort” so the rewards just seems random and therefore even more terrifying to Jazz while all making sense to Prowl therefore making Jazz’s fear confusing to him. I would say that it was a total failure to communicate, but that would imply it was ever anything other than a total failure. 

And then Prowl’s good old over rewarding comes back in full force. Jazz got stuck at the same place as before and doesn’t think he did any better, but Prowl wants to encourage Jazz to try. So Jazz gets all of the rewards (no more restraints, getting out of the room, getting access to reading material) at once with zero explanation as to why and with the fresh memory of what punishments being honest can sometimes bring from Prowl. 

Prowl I assume believes Jazz can remember how Prowl likes things from how they were living together while “dating”. It seems almost like Prowl believes that since Jazz is now showing some effort, the training is pretty much done and Jazz is now fully integrated can get to the on-the-job stuff, telling Jazz about the home and what Jazz can do when not maintaining the order of the house (less his mind “either” away). 

Or it could be that Prowl’s subconscious hatred of the training and hurting Jazz leading him to just wanting to skip the rest of any training and get to the end where they are happily married causing him to bring Jazz out so quickly. Otherwise I think in “normal” mate training, it would go into a step-by-step order wherein Jazz gains more rooms or at lease time outside as he proves himself more and more rather than all or nothing. 

We also see that Prowl accepts Jazz saying he knows Prowl’s house rules without having Jazz recite them back. This further supports Prowl’s dislike of what goes into training since he leaves out this part of the training that could be so easily applied here because this part is personal to life with Prowl rather than a generic part of mate-training itself. Prowl even thinks to himself how it is going so nicely when if it truly was going as well as Prowl assumed, Jazz would have recited the rules back to prove he was listening.

Even later when Jazz breaks one of the rules, Prowl doesn’t make Jazz recite any of the rules back to him, only says to not let it happen again.  Instead just saying he heard and accepted Jazz’s request to get on the couch without saying “this time only” or saying “You will be punished if that happens again” assuming Jazz will automatically know. And later confuses the information more by dealing out a punishment the next time Jazz gets on the couch without saying directly that it was that reason. Though come one Prowl, Jazz having to ask permission to get back on the couch after getting a book to read on the couch with you was just ridiculous.

 “Upon both of them entering the room, Prowl shut the door then turned to Jazz. ‘You have been doing well today..’.” Yep Prowl, Jazz said the same words as yesterday in a more cultured manner, got a tour of the house and then sat on the couch with nothing getting torn apart or exploded. Truly Jazz is now fully trained and well on his way to being the perfect mate. Its things like this that give me hope Prowl can be turned against his upbringing because this rush out of the training leads me to believe that at least some part of him finds it wrong. (I’ll get to what happens later when I get there. I have theories on that as well. Though I know too the authors aren’t sure what way they want to take Prowl, I’m just saying this is laying noticeable groundwork if they want to end up going that way in the future.)

Not gonna lie, if I were Jazz, I probably would have went for poison in the morning energon, even if Prowl would have noticed right away. But come on, it was right there. At least he could have thought about adding a little extra to Prowl’s!

“ "Continue to perform excellently and you shall receive even more rewards," Prowl promised. “ And boy do I believe he would have set the “excellent” bar low and rewards bar high. Probably after like two or three vorns of minimal effort, Jazz may have been able to swing a “vacation” to another city, then just made a run for it.

And we leave on Jazz going back to “THAT ROOM” for the work day with no restraints and whatever books from Prowl’s collection he wanted.

I feel like I came up with a lot more meta a theories for this chapter than the last couple.

But anyway, till next time!

The Flaw in Every Crystal

Chapter 8

Intermission Number 1

Aka Triage’s situation

So, Triage became limited in who she could treat on a regular basis to people of her own class. Even triple-checking. I wonder if this is because the medic or the patient might lie, or both. Does this mean that a medic could have to drop a patient once they bond, but then pick that patient back up if the patient bonds as a sub?

Interesting that Prowl would have to hold a high rank to allow Triage to have an occupation, but said that Jazz could do approved work. So, is medic considered higher valued that Prowl would need to rank up to do that but most stuff Jazz could do Prowl would be high enough rank for?

Is it possible to be too low of a rank to bond someone? Derby is mentioned as having to climb up a few ranks. Has there been a Romeo/Juliet type thing ever?

Why didn’t Prowl try to trine with Derby and Triage to rank up. Was he worried Derby wouldn’t go along with the plan to get out of Praxus? Or was it the lack of feelings between them all?

The Flaw in Every Crystal

Chapter 9

Retraining Arc Part 1

aka: Its downhill from here

aka: Was it worth it?

So, the result of Jazz first exploding, then trying to claw Prowl to death was....not goo to say the least... Prowl was able to get his apartment all fixed up, and first order of business on his free day is to go back to training, well, not exactly back to but going at it from a different direction. Since Jazz destroyed the last room, Prowl got to make it up all shiny and new with new features, such as straps to keep Jazz in an upright position putting him right between a rock and a hard place.

Jazz seems oddly calm on first waking up. Not being surprised at being restrained, his first thoughts are to look around and take in his situation and if/how he can escape again. Here we see the traits that will probably help keep Jazz alive longest when he becomes Spec Ops. Nice to know that he’s able to keep a cool head and hope for an escape still even after knowing the first attempt failed to get him anything really.

Prowl comes in with a kind of calm attitude towards Jazz, telling him how much work Triage was left to do because of him. This sets Jazz off even more since Prowl at this point seems probably like a raised cobra to him. Doing nothing at the moment, but ready to bit at any time.

We also learn now what the additional components were that Prowl commissioned Triage to do. Someone ring a bell cause Jazz finally got his wings! Prowl brings up that they are high quality wings as well with the sensitivity turned up so that when he helps/hurts Jazz with them, Jazz fully feels it. This new act of Prowl’s has Jazz on serious edge since it’s the waiting for pain that can drive you nuts. Prowl keeps a calm tone while Jazz falls back on insults and snark to try to get back at Prowl any way he can. I’m surprised that Jazz is so quickly fooled into thinking Prowl won’t hurt him at this point when its like, come on, you blew up his house and then attacked him. He is not going to let that go Jazz. I know that my mind would just be bringing up every possible painful scenario of what might happen. 

"Praxus can fall into a smelter for all I care." He was starting to fall for his own act of bravery, hoping that maybe things might not turn out as bad as he imagined.

"Don't be unreasonable, my mate." Prowl removed himself entirely from the other's frame and even stepped back. "Such a thing could never feasibly happen."

Jazz snapped his denta at the other as he retreated. "No, that'd be too good for this city. It deserves a much worse fate."

FORESHADOWING!!

I do wonder how Jazz will react to the fall. He, I’m sure, will have no love for the native Praxians, but will he even think of the people who like him may have been trapped there? Or would he not because he would be too annoyed at their and his own weakness in allowing the kidnapping and training to happen to them?

It actually seems if anything having the escape attempt fail gave Jazz more spirit and anger, not less. Even talking back at Prowl’s attempts to gaslight him with time. We see now Prowl trying to force anger, hoping to scare Jazz into acting better. Hint: It doesn’t work here. 

Nice to know though that Jazz is willing to revisit the play-along plan in the future. It’s always annoying when fictional characters throw out a perfectly good plan just because it didn’t work properly the first time. Though Prowl will be much more on guard for that kind of thing in the future now. 

Prowl seems to be going full on mind games and gaslighting now, acting nicely to Jazz and seemingly interested in having Jazz change his mind. This of course only angers Jazz more, causing him to lash out. 

Part of me wants to make Taming of the Shrew comparisons so badly but its not really similar enough to what I remember to do so. At this point though I can see Prowl lifting the plan of food denial while saying like “Sorry my mate, seems I brought you the wrong energon” once Jazz gets hunger and then taking it away or something like that. High school English was a long time ago. 

Jazz actually calms down and realizes that anger isn’t helping fairly fast. Probably because Prowl keeps leaving the room. If Prowl stayed there, it would probably just keep working Jazz up.

Man, hand-feeding the person you’ve captured and want to make love you comes up A LOT in transformers fanfiction. By which I mean I’ve seen this twice, one story was “The Perfect Song” which was more Jazz/Prowl consentual BDSM and far less creepy, and in “These Games We Play” which is Jazz/Soundwave and almost as creepy as this story but more thriller than horror.

ANYWAY, we get Prowl finally maiming Jazz in retaliation for Jazz’s attack earlier. And there’s a misplaced end quote here, fyi: 

With that nothing of a warning, Prowl pulled a blade from his subspace and sliced down one of Jazz's sensor panels. He only applied enough pressure to cut in, not through. He only wanted to injure for now, he would come back to do actual damage."

So yeah, Prowl apparently knows how to slice up wings correctly fairly well, which raises a whole host of creepy questions. We also see the start of a true cycle of abuse here:

Prowl hurts Jazz --> Jazz behaves due to fear --> Prowl pushes Jazz and angers him --> Jazz talks back --> see step one again.

Really creepy to see Jazz sizing up whatever Prowl is threatening to see if it is worth the rebellion.

And that’s it for now. Till next time!

The Flaw in Every Crystal

Chapter 10: Retraining Arc Part 2

Aka Goddammit Triage

Yeah, okay, sorry truth time, I think I hate Triage the most out of every character in this story. Especially now as opposed to when I started this review, or read this story the first time through. At first I didn’t think anything of her. She was an OC, and I as a...well...fleeting fan did not care for any “new” or unknown to me characters in a story. She just seemed so minor, like one of the powerless good guys in the story just showing up to fix Jazz. Then I read TAAO, which still didn’t change as much...then I read the meta for TAAO (especially Starscream), and started watching Bojack Horseman. And dear god did I start hating the character I once viewed with total apathy. I guess its because that show and those metas kinda put into words to me how little thoughts and your headspace, and your reasons can really matter when talking about morality of characters like Triage.

That is to say she is not a bad character in that all her actions and movitations are believable. This is in I personally do not like, hate, and even loathe her, more than the party characters, more than Prowl, heck, more than Barricade. Probably in part because she acts so bubbly and that the system is fine because it worked out for “her” and anyone with a differing opinion needs to just get with the program, in part her happy exterior, but mostly I think because the author may not want us to hate her.

We are supposed to hate the party mechs for how uncomfortable they make Jazz, we are supposed to hate Barricade for being a total asshat, we are okay to hate Prowl because he is the reason for Jazz being there. But Triage we get scenes humanizing her, we get to see her relationship, hear her thoughts, and see how torn up she is over how Jazz is suffering. But that’s just it, thoughts don’t really matter. You can think something is wrong all you want but unless you do something, it doesn’t mean shit! Like Diana in Bojack said “I don’t think I believe in deeper down...its actions that matter.” (paraphrasing) In this same trial of thought we get Starscream fans who want him to be better, but so many believe that wanting to do better, or thinking how you can’t do better, won’t make you better, it just makes you self-aware. Same with Blast-Off, wherein he knows what his time and love-interest did was wrong, but did nothing to stop it, which may even be worse because he at least KNEW.

Same with Triage, she can cry and feel bad for Jazz getting beat up all she wants, but none of it will really help Jazz. Heck, the more I think about it, the less I think its about Jazz himself but more how he makes Triage feel that’s the problem! She cares more for how Jazz is making her question things than her own patients well-being and making her feel sad, that is Messed-Up yet she is one of only two characters we get to hear the thoughts of for a lot of the starting chapters!!!

*ahem*

Anyway, on to the chapter!

So, Triage shows up to check on Jazz after Prowl decided to take his pound of flesh from the bot. Triage is upset that her patient is being all unruly and kinda depressing. So she tries to form a bond with Jazz to speed up the healing process by talking about how she is also a sub and probably only one to two tiers above Jazz. She does this so that Jazz will let her in to fully examine him. While she knows Prowl won’t try to kill Jazz, she, and we, know he can all to easily accidentally do so as he had almost starved Jazz to death before.  

Jazz sees this as a betrayal to think she was lying about being badly off. Triage on the other had is just annoyed that Jazz is being such a drama king about the whole kidnapping and brainwashing thing. And how he will be so much happier once he loves Big Brother as well in this Brave New World. 

I “love” how she calls it arguing when she is simply dismissing the other side out of hand as either wrong or just over emotional. She doesn’t even comment to Jazz until he brings up her mate, in which case she only reacts by getting defensive. Jazz brings up that even if treated right, she still isn’t her own person. Triage says how she isn’t owned, but from the sound of Praxus, I think its safe to say that she’s in denial on that one. “She protects me” like I protect my plants or my cat. I care about them, and they are their own beings, but no one could say I didn’t own them as well. The two are not mutually exclusive, if anything it is unusual to not care about things you own. Her defensiveness of her lifestyle to Jazz almost reeks of “the corner doth protest too much” like she is using the same argument she as told herself once upon a time. 

Also, quick note that the Praxus if you agreed once, you have given consent to this forever is reallllllly creepy and reminds me of the whole arguments against marital rape. You said yes, no take-backs for any reason. God, some Praxian relationships must get suuuper toxic if one half changes and they start to hate each other.

"I ain't lettin' anyone else control me, ever again."  - This is an interesting line, since up till now Prowl hasn’t really been able to control Jazz. In Prowl’s mind that is the entire problem. Yet Jazz sees it that way. Is he referring to Prowl’s control of his body or Prowl’s control in forcing Jazz to fake being a sub? Or is this referring to another event from Jazz’s past that he may not be even fully recalling in the moment? 

“As his mate, it is his duty to protect you from as much danger as possible.” I wonder whose opinion of “possible” matters? Like would you be able to ever prove a dom wasn’t doing his duty towards his mate to get the dom in trouble? Is that a law or just expected? And I guess if it was a proven law the sub would just become state property, right?

   "I've seen to more difficult patients before and survived well, this time will be no different." - just how many “Jazz”‘s has she seen? How many would ever make her truly question her culture instead of just falling back to being defensive? 

And so, for how he acted Jazz gets his voice taken. There’s a said irony that the last word he was able to say was a simple “No.” The final line of the chapter was “It was enough to get Jazz wondering if rebellion was actually worth it.” Just sums up everything so nicely there. 

Till next time!

The Flaw in Every Crystal

Chapter 11: Retraining Arc Part 3

Aka: Lessons in Communication

Aka: His Silent Sass

So Prowl allows Jazz to sleep the night, then the next day starts coming in every joor to ask Jazz questions knowing full well that Jazz cannot answer them. Now we get into Prowl trying to get Jazz to learn how to use wing speak by giving him no other option. Kinda like full immersion but with Torture, or learning to use your non dominant hand via breaking the other. Prowl has not ever gone from the Praxian energon, only. I wonder if its the training, availability, or just Prowl wouldn’t know what else? Probably a combination of all three. Interesting that Jazz’s logical part is saying to reject the energon while the primal one is wanting to take it. Jazz says it wouldn’t be worth it, but it would give him more energy. 

Maybe he has taken what Triage told him to heart and now can logically be sure that Prowl won’t starve him. He can probably feel the line is back in. So logically he knows that he doesn’t “need” the offered energon to live, but because he’s on survival rations his body only cares about being full. 

Those wings must hurt if only because Jazz probably doesn’t know how to properly leave them settled on his back since he never had them before. They also have no external support since there is only the wall behind him. Odd that Prowl saves that as the third lesson after “yes” and “no”.

Once again Prowl at least appreciates the attempt, even more so than success, and Jazz gets his reward. He also is able to easily drink the energon without spitting it back up due to taste. I wonder if it is another diluted and that comment wasn’t mentioned or if its a case of “when you’re starving, everything tastes good.” Probably full energon since Prowl then wants Jazz to start wing movement training. And this is the moment where if I was in this situation, I would be so, so dead. I have a REALLY bad lifetime case of “no your other left”. I would totally mirror instead of copy. Which brings up is Prowl expecting Jazz will naturally mirror and will reverse right and left movements for him, or will Prowl expect Jazz to naturally copy the left and right movements?

And of course Jazz has to be contradictory and only respond with no. Though it is doing the opposite of helping Jazz in the moment I can understand him naturally wanting to needle Prowl whenever possible. Prowl seems to catch on after a bit of being unable to read Jazz’s glare, or just choosing not to. 

Now we see more of Prowl’s annoyance with Jazz coming to the fore. After reducing Jazz to only yes and no responses Prowl now brings out his full sarcasm/dick mode. Praxus really must think therapy is the devil’s work and people just need to buck up and stop being weird. At first it could have been explained away as that Jazz was a noncitizen so his mental state didn’t matter, but Prowl’s actions and venting here really so that after the getting a new mate, explosions, and harm no one thought Prowl may need to talk to someone about it.  

"This is the default position you should carry your wings in. ... Then this one is how you ask any questions, or indicate an otherwise unclear verbal comment is meant as a question."

So every Praxian walks around making the wing equivalent of this face: :-? or this symbol: ~?

I also love that Jazz wants to learn as much as possible to insult Prowl with. Prowl probably won’t want to teach Jazz any ‘uncouth’ motions but I could see Jazz trying different ones out to try to get a reaction out of Prowl. Its impressive that Jazz is able to seemingly pick up on the movements so quickly know, but I guess as a cultural reporter he had to learn to quickly read body movement and how to pick up details. Not to mention altering his own body language to better fit in with the native population.

I’m almost surprised that Jazz doesn’t try to say no to the vocalizer at first to try to earn some brownie points, but I guess it is still too soon to try starting round 2 of that game again. If Prowl wondered why Jazz could even play the “why bother asking for my voice back when nobody is gonna listen to it?” Prowl even thinks about how it is a test, one that he expects Jazz to fail by using his recently regained voice to lash out at him again.....Which he does.... Funny that Prowl lets Jazz speak to see where he is going with the threat. Gotta love how Prowl is like “You are so hard to teach, but pick things up so well” as if the subjects are one and the same to him. 

We see from the last few lines an almost Stockholm Syndrome setting in as Jazz thinks about how much he would like certain parts of Prowl’s personality if it wasn’t being used against him. Which it makes sense there are parts of Prowl that Jazz likes since he willingly hung out with Prowl at first and seemed to enjoy speaking with him. Maybe Jazz is surprised to realize how little of it was actually just an act to kidnap him?

Anyway, that’s the end of this chapter.

Till next time!

The Flaw in Every Crystal

Chapter 13: ‘Retraining Arc Part 5′

Aka might as well converse with a brink wall

Aka All on board the logic merry-go-round

We start with Prowl visiting Jazz again as Jazz comments to himself that Prowl is getting predictable. I can see how this probably is the case as Prowl seems to be making it up as he goes based on a simple outline. Prowl also isn’t the type to change something unless he feels he is forced to.

We also get another sample of how internal Praxus is since even a questioning tilt of the head instead of the winds is known as an “outsider” style of questioning. Prowl, feeling forced to do something to move forward with the training, says how now Jazz will be punished if he fails to respond to any questions of Prowl’s. Prowl is surprised that Jazz goes along with it.

Unfortunately, this probably reinforces in Prowl’s mind that violence does work on Jazz. Since Jazz is now agreeing to respond politely to Prowl after the threat of violence. This can be contrasted when before the promise of reward, energon, was literally spat in Prowl’s face. Kinda sets a bad precedent. 

Prowl, now seemingly now at this point just expecting Jazz to be contradictory to the point of self-harm wonders how long Jazz will go before “abusing” his “gift” of speech again. Jazz brings up how Prowl, lately especially, seems to bait Jazz into mouthing off so Prowl can punish him. Could it be Prowl’s own subconscious anger at Jazz for hurting him, insulting his culture, and taking so long to heel to Prowl’s commands that Prowl is manipulating Jazz into anger like this? Or it could be that Prowl is trying to get Jazz used to insults now so that when he brings Jazz out in public, Jazz won’t rile up the first time some stranger insults him?

Jazz tries to bring up again that the reason Prowl is locking him up is because Prowl is desperate for a mate. Not true, but Prowl has never given him another reason in so many words, Jazz has no other choice but to believe it. Prowl tries to disregard this reasoning, saying how there have been offers but Jazz was the first to grab his attention. I wonder if the other offers were all from subs or people asking Prowl to be the sub? Or both? Could someone ask another to take them as a sub, or is that seen as really improper?

Jazz brings up the problem of rapid immersion being that now that Prowl has introduced this new culture/side of himself, Jazz may not/does not like what he sees. Especially if he feels that Prowl was not being honest at all before now so any trust and prior relationship is flushed down the toilet. Prowl brings up how Jazz decided to bolt before Prowl could explain things, though I would bring up once again that the relationship was already set in stone by that time. So even if Jazz had stuck around, things still would have gone very down hill very quickly. 

"I warned you that trying to leave as you were at the time wasn't going to work out. It's not my fault that you overreacted. You could have waited and listened instead of trying to run away."

And Prowl does not so much as dance around the topic of using the bonding to Jazz to escape Praxus as he confusingly waltzes to a song only he can hear while Jazz looks on. So what is with Prowl not telling? What does he think will happen of Jazz finds out Prowl wants to leave Praxus too? That Jazz will turn him in???? He says how he doesn’t trust Jazz, can’t trust Jazz, and how Jazz can’t take care of himself....but honestly come on Prowl, why does your plan hinge on Jazz being in the dark about the end game???? Like sure, Jazz exploded....twice....but that proves Jazz wants to leave. 

Why try to get Jazz so used to Praxus? Unless he thinks if he tells Jazz now, Jazz will try to rush things? That’s the only reason I can really think of from Prowl’s point of view. And seems reasonable if he thinks Jazz will fly off the handle and explode again whenever there is a set back or delay in the plan needed. One can only afford to fix the house so many times. Or worse we get a Lady Macbeth reenactment.

And then we get the back and forth arguments again where Prowl and Jazz just keep stating what they believe but neither cares to accept any point the other makes so they may as well just be talking to a wall. Except the wall may be better since the wall can’t get pissed off at you. 

“ I would never demean you in such a way."  I wonder what that would mean in Praxus to demean a sub. Like literal pet play in public? More probably if the sub looks really beat up and wrecked it reflects badly on the dom. But still...

It is fun to hear the back and forth between Prowl and Jazz. It does actually remind me of some of Shakespeare's back and forth between Katherine and  Petruchio. If/When I ever get this review series done I may reread the play just to do a break down of all the differences and similarities between them.

"It's no wonder your job is to be shipped away to other cities constantly; no one there wants to be forced to interact with you for any extended period."

And yeah, that is a really low blow Prowl. When Jazz reacts to it, Prowl finally just snaps and starts beating on Jazz. Unfortunately I feel like Prowl was attracted to Jazz for being able to talk to Prowl and bring emotions out of Prowl.

And this is where we end the chapter.

Till next time!

The Flaw In Every Crystal

Chapter 18 Part 2 ....of Part 2

Aka: The garden party

Aka: Guy needs a hobby

Okay, been a while so let’s just get right back into it. Jazz as a new paint job in all grays and now gets to visit the garden as part of his ... walk. They get just waved through the gates since Jazz now has THE WINGS OF CITIZENSHIP or close enough at least. When they come upon the singing crystals, Prowl asks Jazz to enter alone to experience them himself now that he should be able to hear them via his wings. Jazz thinks the song he now hears is a bit bittersweet which makes sense of him projecting just how far he has had to come and what he has been put through to hear them fully.

Of course now that Jazz has heard some music again, it revives that part of him leading him to want to create his own music again. We also see how Prowl can accept some core values that Jazz has but not others. Such as he is willing to allow Jazz to stay with the singing crystals for as long as Jazz wishes because he understands how much music makes up Jazz’s character. Yet Prowl fails to grasp that rebellion is another equal facet of Jazz and cannot just be removed or suppressed yet leave the rest of him as Jazz.

Jazz forces himself to leave the area early as not to make Prowl angry at being forced to wait. This makes sense as Prowl didn’t say that Jazz could take as long as he wanted. So though Prowl assumes that Jazz will stay in there until fetched, Jazz believes that Prowl will want to leave in order to see the rest of the garden and catch the next transport to deal with whatever is on the schedule next and would be angry if thrown off it. 

Kinda surprised that touching the crystals is allowed. But I guess that if it is only Praxian’s who are taught to know better or mechs with Praxians they assume that nothing too bad will happen to the exhibit. I wonder if they ever change the crystals out or rearrange them to change up the exhibit every once in a while or if it is a permanent fixture?

It is cute that there is a little hidden shop in the gardens for kids to discover and get a little take home kit. Unfortunately Jazz seems to find it cute too and combined with the rest of what has happened today is leaving him rather out of sorts over what to feel.

“... proper sensor wings aren’t installed until one’s adult frames.” Is this to say the kids aren’t born with wings from any couple and instead everyone gets wings when they become a citizen?

Jazz’s wings seem to be becoming a tell for him as he finds it hard to control them properly. So while he can hide his facial expressions, the wings give him away. 

Prowl seems interested and says that Jazz may have talent. I wonder if this is due to Jazz’s interest in music or is it that people who grow crystal are regarded and having an outsider mate who can grow crystals would be a better status symbol for Prowl? I can’t think that crystals grown by an outsider would be considered anything more than a parlor trick by most Praxian’s though. Also they don’t charge for the crystal growing kit?

When they get back home it seems that Jazz is uneasy with how he seems to be losing himself to the role Prowl expects him to be playing as the sub. Though Prowl is rather self-sufficient already so Jazz can very quickly get left with nothing to do. Though now he does have the crystals to occupy his time.

Praxian’s must not really have a music scene what so ever if Prowl is working so hard to get Jazz into the crystals rather than a quiet instrument to occupy his time.

Thus we end this chapter with both going into recharge after a busy day of gifts for Jazz.

Till next time!

The Flaw in Every Crystal

Chapter 19: 'Life in Praxus' Part 3

Aka: Daily Life?

So, Jazz and Prowl are now back from the second visit to the gardens with Jazz as a now full citizen and given to all the perks, including his own crystal starter kit. 

The chapter begins with Prowl waking up and doing a scan for Jazz, since Jazz is still understandably terrified and prone to curl up in his sleep. Though this night, whether due to exhaustion, joy still from the day before, or just wanting someone else to curl up with, Prowl wakes to find Jazz curled up against him.  

Prowl, finding it cute and probably more in line of what is expected of sub behavior, decides to indulge in being curled up around Jazz. Prowl also starts showing more physical affection to Jazz via petting his wings. Jazz of course responds positively to this sort of physical affection after being so long without. Prowl acknowledges that Jazz will need much more time to become calm around Prowl, though I do wonder what Prowl’s full imagined timeline is since I can’t believe he has it fully open to letting things progress naturally at any point.

Jazz of course, after awakening to find his kidnapper/torturer so close to him, freaks out. In Jazz’s desperate bid to get away, he ends up spraining his wing by hitting it wrong. It can be due both to the wings still being relatively new additions to Jazz’s frame so Jazz has less time to account for their size and movements along with Jazz’s unfamiliarity with the room itself. Prowl, at least, and probably through his police training knows to approach Jazz slowly and to speak softly as not to startle Jazz into trying to flee and injure himself further. This of course fails and Jazz ends up falling off the berth.

Prowl then mistakenly puts Jazz in a hard place since Jazz can’t fix the wing on his own yet doesn’t trust Prowl not to hurt him. Thus unable to run or fight Jazz falls back on freezing as a natural reaction. Prowl feels distress that Jazz is distressed yet unwilling to let Prowl help, as Prowl feels that it is his duty to do so and feels as though the punishment part of the training should be over. Jazz however has never gotten a memo about this and is instead in a constant state of anxiety over the uncertainty of his predicament. Jazz can only plea for Prowl not to hurt him, as he did before in THAT ROOM.

Prowl then promises Jazz he won’t hurt Jazz, probably meaning it as well until he feels Jazz does something wrong again. Jazz, of course knowing Prowl has hurt him before has no reason to believe that he will not be hurt this time but is in no position to refuse any offer of help. So Jazz is forced to calm himself down.

It is funny that Prowl asks Jazz to be strong for two klicks to reset a wing when we have seen Jazz endure torture before at Prowl’s hands. Though in the moment Prowl is probably just trying to be more comforting and perhaps falling back on learned police scripts for dealing with hurt civilians.

I wonder if Prowl was able to sense any of the hatred Jazz felt towards him for a moment or if it was drowned out by the pain that Jazz was in.... Prowl then automatically went to give Jazz a pain blocker since he is now in “good dom looking out for his poor sub” mode of operating. And Prowl does want Jazz to now play as the sub in need of comfort, shown by Prowl repeatedly asking if Jazz is in pain, or okay, and extending his field out to Jazz. 

Jazz himself is arguing about whether to take the comfort Prowl is offering him, or not allow himself any comfort with Prowl and therefore protect himself more when Prowl turns on him again. It is interesting to see these problems come up and reminds me of a prior fic where ‘Prowl” was erased and the “new” Prowl was mated to Soundwave but still loved Jazz. Jazz, undertaking his own mission to bring both to his side even thinks to himself multiple times how easy it would be to just take comfort in the two and forget everything else, or in his own words “go insane”. The Jazz in that fic never did, though he did come very close. The Jazz here, with no Spec Ops training and currently no visible hope of escape, does go and accept comfort from Prowl. And he is comforted by this, allowing himself to drift away and forget his current situation for awhile.

Prowl allows this to go on till it is time for him to leave for work, at which point he tries to convince Jazz to move up onto the bed. Jazz, having been “woken up” and given orders by Prowl once again retreats back into himself, answering the way he assumes Prowl wishes him to. Though even if he asked Prowl to stay, Prowl would probably say it would be ludicrous to stay by Jazz’s side for a bent wing and that he has to go. 

Jazz, in an act to comfort himself in a tactile fashion without having to rely on Prowl, wraps himself in a blanket. The blanket can also serve as Jazz’s attempt at protection going back to childhood fears of monsters under the bed who would grab you if you were not covered. Prowl then gets Jazz some of his diluted energon. 

Jazz is then given run of the building for the ....third time? With no explosions for once. Though Prowl is extra weary when entering his home. Jazz, for his part has continued to take comfort in the blanket and move on to tending to his crystals, which are dependent on him to develop. 

Prowl then tries for the most awkward attempts at small talk with Jazz. Jazz however takes this to be in a condescending tone and is defensive thinking Prowl is saying that Jazz wasted the day away when Jazz just wasn’t up to causing anymore harm. Prowl doesn’t even offer how his day went in return. Instead Prowl decides to change topics to get Jazz to speak to him a bit more by complementing the garden Jazz has started. Jazz is not up to conversing though and remains quiet before returning back to his work leaving Prowl with no idea how to continue any conversation. Prowl though takes comfort in that at least Jazz has shown an interest in something and is not just catatonic, assuming that the awkwardness will naturally fade with time as Jazz get more used to Prowl as his mate.

 I wonder if Prowl simply doesn’t want the embarrassment of a mate wrapped in a comfort object which is why he thinks to only allow Jazz to continue on for a day longer acting like that? 

Prowl also offers still to take Jazz anywhere in the city Jazz would like to go before or after the doctor visit.

Jazz does actually show some of his growing comfort with Prowl in this new situation by making a joke about the blanket accepting him as family now. Or it is a joke to simply cover his real fear of being separated from it. Unfortunately, Prowl is unable to determine how to respond and the joke dies a sad and lonely death on the kitchen table.

Thus we leave again to return on Jazz’s check-up.

Till Next Time!

The Flaw in Every Crystal

Chapter 21: 'Life in Praxus' Part 5

Aka: Blanket Negotiations End in a Standstill

So we have Prowl waking up happy to see that Jazz is still on the bed and not exploded, missing, or freaking out. Little victories I guess. Though I love how Prowl just assumes that after one morning freak out its over. Especially since  he isn’t even sure Jazz is awake yet.

Then cue an almost normal morning of Prowl asking if Jazz wants to sleep in after the medical center, racing and such from yesterday and Jazz showing appreciation for it (via wing flicks). Though then we get into problems once again coming about because Prowl seems to constantly wanting to act as though he and Jazz are just happy mates now without acknowledging any damage from before. This can be seen in when he tells Jazz that he would hate for Jazz to be in pain from overexertion. I’m sure Prowl’s thought process is that Jazz should not be in pain because the outing was not a punishment, but for Jazz it doesn’t matter. 

Though part of me wonders if even some part of Prowl did acknowledge the statement because he goes to fetch them both a meal. Though that could just as easily be Prowl wanting to get up and do something or not have Jazz injure himself by quickly trying to carry some cubes up to them. 

This then causes Jazz a breakdown since he can’t understand Prowl’s behavior’s. It almost seems like a person on the outside looking in on an abusive relationship despite this being him in one. Jazz wondering why Prowl isn’t always violent instead of thinking how it could be a cycle at this point. Jazz seems to believe it should be a constant violence instead of how some abuse survivors write about trying to keep one nonviolent cycle going as long as they can. I wonder if Jazz just hasn’t been exposed to realistic stories of abuse, if he found it too violent to see it as part of a normal abusive relationship, or if those simply are not common in any city state Jazz has been to? Or maybe a type of victim blaming for the people remaining in the relationship but because Jazz has so constantly been against it and trying to escape he sees it as something different? Food for thought.

Though I can easily understand Jazz’s confusion over it then since from his point of view it seems like Prowl must be given a Shakespearean like act for an audience of one who will never appreciate it. Jazz can’t reconcile the two different versions of Prowl he’s seen.

Prowl on the other hand is in full “everything is fine now, we are a perfect couple, look at me acting like *I assume* my sire did”. He is preparing Jazz’s energon diluted as he wishes to, asking after Jazz’s emotional state, telling Jazz he call tell him anything, etc. Though we get this an what has been proven to otherwise be an empty gesture since we know that every time Jazz brings up his problems, Prowl simply brushes it off. It also brings up the problem of Praxus with “You should work out your own problems, or have your mate help you but it should ALWAYS stay in the house” as it were.

We also see Jazz falling into depression where he sleeps and then with nothing to really look forward to seems to just want to sleep more. But we get the return of the adorable blanket monster Jazz at least. And Prowl responding to this in an equally playful matter. Jazz even reflects how it is nice to pretend that everything is fine the same way that Prowl is. And it seems as though after Jazz has been however long there, Prowl has gotten some energon more to Jazz’s tastes. Though this seems almost as though Prowl is once again trying to shower Jazz with gifts for if not good, at least not horrible behavior. It should be noted that Prowl keeps the humor going even though he thinks about how absurd the whole thing is. 

....I should probably do a full on analysis sometime about the parallels between the blanket/Jazz and Prowl/Jazz sometime in the future.

Then we get to hear more about Jazz’s budding little crystal garden that seems to be the main thing giving him joy and keeping him going at this point. He is also able to make the garden intricate at this point showing how much time and effort he has put into it. 

And then Prowl leaves with not a great, but no where near a bad foot with Jazz. Jazz then checks on Prowl to see both where Prowl is and why he is still awake. We then end on them falling asleep on the berth.

Till Next Time!