you’re made of tougher stuff than rafe had realized.
he pampers you, of course, gives you the full princess treatment, even though you get all shy about it, trying to refuse him—which never works. he thinks you deserve it, because you deserve everything that he can give you, but he’s really trying to butter you up, get you ready for when you find out what kind of shit he’s really been up to.
you’ve made a habit out of not questioning anything rafe says, following his instructions without a second guess. your boyfriend is overpoweringly dominant—it’s easy to do as he says and a part of you is convinced that you prefer it this way. you feel your shyness melt away when you’re with him, your real self bubbling to the surface, more sure of yourself now because rafe is sure of you.
you don’t realize when it’s happened—only that it has. hand in hand with becoming more confident like rafe, because of rafe, you start being a little more observant.
rafe usually sends you away—gently murmuring in your ear to go get him another drink, or go say hi to someone for him, while he’s trying to conduct business. he sells coke only when you’re out of eyeshot or back at tannyhill waiting for him—he doesn’t need you knowing the details of what he’s doing to make money. the crap with the pogues is put on hold anytime you’re around since he knows your bleeding heart will only feel bad for them. more than that, rafe doesn’t need those idiots earning your sympathy and making him seem like the bad guy. he likes you as you are, all your emotions just for him.
he thinks this is the way it needs to be to keep you with him, but you start to surprise him.
you come back with a beer for rafe and another lemonade seltzer for yourself, handing it to rafe with a smile and settling on his lap. people at the party might look at the two of you weirdly, but you don’t care anymore, even though the thought of something like that used to make you cry. you lock eyes with rafe, a hand resting on his shoulder while his own hands wrap around your waist.
“that guy over there told me to ask you if you had any coke on you,” you say, taking a sip of your drink and making yourself comfortable against rafe. he freezes for a second, tenses under your touch.
“he said that?” rafe shrugs, fist clenching around the beer bottle. “don’t know why he’d ask that.” you respond with a matching shrug.
“i don’t know. but he’s been talking to those two all night, i bet they’ll buy from you too.” he tries not to act surprised with your words—so comfortably talking about who he could sell drugs to tonight, like you’re discussing what you want for dessert.
“yeah, kid?”
“mm-hmm. he seemed real nervous. you could probably upcharge, doubt he’d notice.” you take another sip of your drink, swinging your legs. “can we get ice cream on the way home?” rafe presses a wet kiss to your cheek, making you squirm and giggle. he gets up, setting you down on the couch.
“yeah. let me go take care of business first.”
“okay. charge him double. then i can get a large.”
In which Ao Lie stays in Ao Guang's palace after Ao Bing's untimely death and is a little too perceptive about the way Ao Guang is feeling at the moment
🚣🏼🚣🏻 Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses
The Finish by J.C. Leyendecker (1908)
The Happy Rower by J.C. Leyendecker (1906)
Two versions because I couldn't choose! The first painting definitely feels like something I'd see on a paperback. Finding the second Leyendecker piece absolutely tickled me, though: a fair-haired rower wearing a kit with 'H' in Gryffindor red??? Come on...