your move princess - part 2
Warnings: jealousy, possessiveness,obsessiveness , manipulation, power struggle, NON-CON, DUB-CON, drug use, alcohol use, roofie use, captivity, forced marriage
Summary ~ Rafe Cameron has been a thorn in your side since freshman year...cocky, entitled, and impossible to ignore. You’ve always brushed off his flirting as nothing serious. But when your rivalry heats up, you start to see there’s more beneath that smirk … something darker, and far more dangerous than just a crush.
Political Philosophy used to be your favorite class.
It was the one space on campus where you could stretch your brain instead of your legs in four-inch heels. Where Socratic debate was encouraged, and you could argue debate your way to an A. It was your weekly sanctuary, sharp arguments, sharper outfits, and the very attractive TA who definitely clocked your well written essays and color-coded notes.
At least, it was your sanctuary.
Until Rafe Cameron decided to ruin it. Like he ruins everything.
He flopped down in the seat right next to yours with all the grace of a frat boy hung over and too much ego. His arm brushed yours casually as he leaned back, way too comfortable in your personal space.
“Princess,” he greeted, grinning like you’d missed him.
You didn’t look up from your MacBook. “Wrong seat.”
He leaned in a little, voice low and mocking. “No assigned seating. Remember? We’re in college now Princess, not Kook Academy.”
“I guess I just assumed you’d skip again,” you said, typing harder.
“What can I say? You’re inspiring.” He peered at your screen. “Big words and eye rolls. It’s like foreplay with you.”
You snapped your laptop shut and gave him a look sharp enough to cut through Plato’s Republic.
He smirked. “So I’ve heard.”
Across the room, Liv settled into her usual seat next to Topper, Rafe’s best friend and frat brother, which was the real reason you were suffering through this now. Liv and Topper were in that “casually hooking up” stage, which meant where Liv went, Topper and Rafe followed.
You’d begged her to just not mention class schedules. She’d done the opposite.
Professor Hayes strolled in, trailed by your favorite TA, Lucas, all hipster glasses and rolled-up sleeves and you tried to re-center your mind.
“Today we’re discussing Hobbes and Locke,” Hayes began, scribbling on the whiteboard. “The nature of man, and whether society civilizes or corrupts.”
You raised your hand, already prepared to destroy whatever sophomore tried to claim Hobbes was “just misunderstood.”
Until you heard his voice.
“Seems like Hobbes had a point,” Rafe said casually, addressing the room like he hadn’t shown up thirty minutes late last week. “People suck. Give ‘em rules or they go feral.”
Hayes nodded. “You agree with Hobbes’ idea of a brutish natural state?”
Rafe shrugged. “I live in a frat house. So, yeah.”
“Actually,” you cut in, your voice sickly sweet, “Hobbes’ entire theory rests on the assumption that people are inherently selfish. But Locke argued that people are rational and capable of cooperation. So maybe it says more about your environment than human nature.”
Rafe raised a brow, clearly amused. “So, you’re saying your sorority is an example of civilized utopia?”
“My sorority runs better than half of Congress. So yes.”
The class chuckled again. You spied Lucas your TA giving an approving nod slightly in the corner of your eye. This was where you thrived.
But then he leaned in again, voice low just for you. “It’s cute how you get so worked up over this Princess.”
You turned toward him and snapped,“If I wanted distractions in class, I’d FaceTime my dog.”
He grinned wider. “He might be less fun to argue with.”
"Enough flirting”, Professor Hayes interrupted. You flushed in embarrassment , you didn't mean to be loud but Rafe just had a way of getting under your skin.
You looked to the front again, resisting the urge to snap a pencil in half. Every part of you wanted to pretend Rafe Cameron didn’t exist, but somehow, he was always there, trailing Liv and Topper, popping up in your lectures, and now? Infecting your one sacred class with smug one-liners and infuriating eye contact.
You didn’t totally hate it.
Because you could handle cocky. You could handle hot. You could even handle dumb. But Rafe Cameron was all three and he was starting to look at you like you were a puzzle he wanted to figure out.
You were going to have to shut that down.
But as class wrapped up and Rafe stood, stretching like he hadn’t spent the entire hour toying with your sanity, he looked down at you with a smile far too genuine.
“See you next time, Princess,” he said, and walked off with Topper like he hadn’t just declared war.
You scoffed, glaring at his retreating back.
Because two could play this game.
And you weren’t losing to Rafe Cameron.
But beneath the banter, the real problem wasn’t what he said—it was the way he looked at you. Like you weren’t just a girl in his class. Like you were his next game.
And you’d seen enough broken hearts on your sorority’s living room couch to know exactly how that ended.
You’d dabbed away mascara-streaked tears, handed out tissues and revenge playlists. You knew what happened when girls fell for that smirk, those eyes. Rafe Cameron collected heartbreaks like trophies. So if he thought he could add you to his shelf?
He had another thing coming.
You were going to make him fall.
And when he did, you’d make him pay for every tear, every story, every “I thought he liked me” whispered through lip-glossed sobs.
You didn’t want his heart.
Which is why you absolutely didn’t care when he showed up during your office hours.
The Wednesday after class, you showed up to office hours early. Not because you needed help, you had Locke’s theories mapped out like Pinterest boards, but because Lucas, your very attractive, very smart TA, always had a way of making your interest in political theory feel like something rare and admirable.
Also, his sleeves were always rolled up in just the right way.
“Hey,” he greeted with a warm smile when you knocked on the doorframe. “You’re early.”
You smiled back, setting your annotated copy of Leviathan on the desk between you. “I figured I’d beat the crowd.”
He gestured to the chair across from him. “Always a pleasure. What’s on your mind?”
You slid into the seat with practiced poise, brushing invisible lint from your skirt. “Honestly? Just wanted to bounce some ideas about Locke’s social contract. And maybe… get your thoughts on how it ties into modern systems of consent.”
Luca blinked, then smiled like he was genuinely impressed. “You’ve got range. That’s a great angle. Let’s dig in.”
The two of you dove into a lively back-and-forth, your words quick, your thoughts sharper. He laughed at your commentary. You laughed at his dry, academic sarcasm. It was fun. And you couldn’t help but notice that his gaze lingered just a beat too long on your lip gloss when you smiled.
He smiled back, and you clocked the way his eyes dropped for a second too long to your lips, to your neckline, to the curve of your collarbone framed by your open pink cardigan.
It wasn’t inappropriate. Not exactly. Just... noticeable.
“You ever think about grad school?” he asked, voice a little quieter now.
You tilted your head. “Sometimes. Depends who’s writing the recommendation.”
He blinked, then laughed. “Well, if you ever need one—”
You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
Rafe’s voice followed. Too calm. Too casual.
“Wow,” Rafe said lazily, leaning against the doorframe like he had every right to be there. “Didn’t realize office hours doubled as date night.”
You froze, your expression neutral,
Lucas looked up. “Hey. Uh, you here for office hours?”
You closed your notebook slowly. “What are you doing here, Rafe?”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Just came by to… support my fellow classmates. Or whatever.”
Lucas, still trying to play professor, offered: “We were just talking about Locke. Social contract theory.”
You stood, the chair scraping behind you. “You don’t even know what a social contract is.”
Rafe’s smirk didn’t falter. “Sure I do. You ask someone to hang out, they say yes, and boom—contract.”
Typical Rafe. Joking, deflecting.
Lucas gave a short, nervous exhale. “Not quite. But points for effort.”
At this Rafe's smirk faded, just enough for something colder to slip through the cracks.
His jaw clenched, eyes flicking from you to Lucas and back again.
“Cool,” he said. “Didn’t realize we were doing one-on-one tutoring now.”
The shift was subtle, but the energy in the room turned. Rafe wasn’t just teasing anymore, he was watching. Calculating. Possessive, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.
You stood, voice clipped. “It’s not tutoring. It’s office hours. You know where people go to learn”.
Rafe tilted his head, lips twitching like he was trying not to laugh. “Oh, I’m learning plenty.”
But his eyes stayed on you, like he was trying to memorize the way you looked when someone else had your attention.
Like he didn’t plan on letting it happen again.
“Looked a little closer than that.”
Lucas cleared his throat, suddenly awkward. “Uh, we were just finishing up—”
“I bet,” Rafe said, flat.
Your stomach twisted. The heat coming off him wasn’t just arrogance, it was territorial. His eyes burned with it, dark and dangerous. Like he was seconds away from putting his fist through a wall just to prove a point.
“I should go,” you said to Lucas. “Thanks.”
You tried to walk past Rafe without touching him, but his hand came up, lightly, just two fingers brushing your wrist. Enough to make you stop.
“Walk you out,” he said, not a question.
You didn’t want to cause a scene. Not with Lucas watching.
So you nodded once and walked.
He waited until you were down the hall before speaking.
“What the fuck was that?”
You froze mid-step. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t play dumb.” He stepped in front of you. Too close. “You were flirting with him.”
You stared. “Are you actually serious right now?”
“He had his eyes all over you. You didn’t stop it.”
Your laugh was cold. “What, you policing where people look now?”
Rafe leaned in, jaw clenched. “You let him talk to you like he knows you. That’s not how this works.”
“This?” you echoed. “There is no ‘this,’ Cameron.”
He stared at you, something sharp and possessive breaking through the lazy grin. “You keep telling yourself that.”
You turned, heart pounding, but his voice followed:
“You can flirt with him all you want. Just remember, he doesn’t know you like I do.”
You spun. “You don’t know me at all.”
He didn’t blink. “I know you hate being underestimated. I know you don’t actually give a shit about half the guys you hang around with, you just like being the smartest person in the room.”
“I know you work twice as hard for half the recognition. I know you’ve got every reading color-coded and memorized and still think you haven’t done enough.”
“And I know you think I’m just some rich asshole trying to ruin your life.”
You exhaled, slow and shaky. “You are a rich asshole trying to ruin my life.”
He smiled again, but this one was dangerous. “Nah. If I wanted to ruin you... I’d already have done it.”
He stepped back, finally giving you room to breathe. But as he turned to walk away, he glanced over his shoulder.
“Office hours, huh?” he muttered. “Cute.”
Outside the door, Liv waited, arms crossed, her usual playful smirk bright as ever. In her hand was a cup of matcha, the peace offering she’d promised after spilling your class schedule to Topper.
“Matcha for the queen of political philosophy,” she said cheerfully, holding it out like a peace treaty.
You accepted it with a strained smile, but your eyes drifted to a darker corner just beyond the building where Rafe still lingered, watching with that quiet intensity.
Liv sipped her drink, completely oblivious to the tension hanging between you and Rafe. “He crashed your office hours?”
You nodded slowly, feeling a strange chill creep over you despite the warm afternoon sun streaming through the windows.
“I don’t know what his deal is. It’s like every time I try to take something seriously, he swoops in like it’s some kind of joke. Like I’m the joke.” you vented to Liv.
Liv laughed, shaking her head. “You’re overthinking it. He’s just being his usual annoying self.”
That smirk, that look, it wasn’t just teasing.
It was something darker. A quiet claim. The kind that made your skin prickle and your instincts go rigid, even as your lips curved into a practiced smile.
Still, you forced yourself to shake it off.
Because Rafe Cameron was not a factor. You had papers to write, a GPA to protect, and a very attractive TA who was definitely noticing you for your mind.
He was just background noise.
Loud, distracting, dangerously magnetic background noise.
But background noise all the same....right?
