#almost nobody is gonna get the reference and i take pride in that

[vialynna]

reminder that you gotta look at your reflection to see what’s on tv

automation actuating impending redundancy

sink or swim? neither kid!

better learn to surf!

cause there’s no room left for humans on this earth

thank you for coming to my ted talk

[nadvs]

cam girl (part twelve) (end)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning alcohol use

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

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Rafe realizes his hands are shaking as he rereads your text.

His eyes keep going over your words, standing up off his bed and pacing around his room just because the adrenaline won’t let him stay seated.

Why the fuck are you doing this to him?

i’m done. this is over. i’m not even a fucking person to you am i

Hot anger bubbles inside his chest. He immediately texts you back: what the fuck do you mean

Minutes pass. You don’t answer.

Rafe: ?????

Again. No answer.

Rafe: dont ignore me

He can’t take it anymore. He taps on the Call button. It rings and rings and rings. He texts you again.

Rafe: answer me

Finally, you respond: i dont need to listen to you. leave me alone

This has to be a cruel joke. Yet again, you’re cold to him out of fucking nowhere, after he thought you had a good time together.

Rafe recalls this morning, to the worried look on your face when you saw his black eye, making him think that maybe you see something of value past the wall he built around him.

He risked his pride by telling you that he always thinks about you, and now you’re done with him?

He texts you again: why are u acting like this

Thank fuck you respond.

You: i guess the slut got bored of you first

His body goes cold. He knows you’re referring to what one of his friends said. You heard that?

If that’s why you’re so pissed off, he needs to talk to you about it in person. He grabs his car keys and rushes out of the house.

Rafe is pounding on your door for so long that his hand is starting to hurt almost as much as it did when he threw those punches last night.

He feels himself teetering on the edge, getting close to the manic state he knows and hates.

He pulls his phone out to text you: open the door

You: ??? i’m not home

At this point, he sees red. He could break his damn phone if he didn’t need it right now. He calls you again, his jaw clenched so tight that it hurts.

His stomach tightens when the dial tone stops after two rings.

“Am I gonna have to block your number?” you say when you answer. The sound of a crowd and loud music buzzes in the background. He clues in that you’re at a party.

“Where are you?” he asks, head hanging, staring at the hallway floor.

“That’s none of your business.” He can hear a slur in your words.

“Are you drunk?”

“I can drink if I want to. I know you love to think you own me, but you don’t.”

Rafe swallows hard, shaking his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard your voice shake. Fuck. You’re crying and it’s his fault.

“Where are you?” Rafe repeats. “Let’s - we need to…” He’s stammering, anxious and unbalanced. “We need to talk… I swear, I’ll fucking wait here until you come home if you don’t tell me where you are.”

Your back is against a wall, the phone pressed to your ear. The room is loud and humid from all the bodies crammed together into one house.

You hate that you’re crying over him and you hate that he can hear it. As if his ego needs the boost.

“Why?” you finally ask, voice strained, hoping he’ll tell you what you want to hear. That there’s a part of him that cares about you.

Rafe is silent for a moment.

“Which one is it?” His chest is tight. He can’t say it now. Not over the phone.

“Neither,” you reply, then hang up. You know he’s just horny and possessive and mad. And definitely bluffing.

You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you take another shot. Time melts away from you as you get lost in the music with your friend, determined to get Rafe and his drama off of your mind.

It’s half past one in the morning when you order a cab. The alcohol has almost worn off at this point. Someone spilled a drink on you and you just want to take a shower and sleep. You have to promise yourself that you won’t give into the impulse to wear Rafe’s shirt to bed.

You exit the elevator and your heart stops when you see Rafe sitting on the floor, his back against your door, his knee raised, his head slumped.

He meant it. He waited. For over three fucking hours.

When you get close enough for him to hear your footsteps, Rafe clambers up to stand, towering over you. His eyes sweep over your face, the blue in them even more prominent in contrast to the dark bruise over his right eye.

Even though your heart, the traitor, is thumping with desire, the ache of what he did to you is louder. It was barbaric, what he said about you. What he let his friend say about you.

“Why are you still here?” you say as evenly as you can.

“You can’t…” Rafe shakes his head, frustrated. He immediately notices you’re not wearing the necklace he gave you and his chest aches. “You can’t end this.”

“Watch me,” you say with a scoff, nudging past him. You feel him behind you, hear his shallow breaths. You unlock your door and pull out your keys.

He won’t move. You turn to look at him again, feeling your lips thin in aggravation.

“Rafe,” you state. “Please. I just want to shower and sleep. Go home.”

“No,” he says stubbornly.

“Why can’t you just go find another girl to fuck around with?” you say, raising your tone.

He almost feels nauseous hearing you say that.

“Are you worried you won’t find one who does everything like I do?” you ask. “I just can’t say no, right? That’s what you told your friends.”

Rafe looks down in shame, nostrils flaring. His lips screw up in anger. He has no words to offer.

“Go home,” you repeat. You’re sure he’s just upset about losing his favorite booty call, just so not accustomed to not getting what he wants.

Rafe doesn’t budge. You’re sober enough to know you can’t continue this conversation in the hallway and risk your voices carrying into your neighbors’ homes.

Frustrated and embittered, you turn your doorknob and accept the fact that he’s not leaving without a fight.

You turn on the dim overhead light and stand in your tiny kitchen, facing Rafe with your arms crossed, as the door shuts behind him.

He steps towards you, hands sliding up your arms before he leans down to try to kiss you.

“Stop,” you mutter, shoving him off, pushing him away.

He tries again, putting his palms on your cheeks.

“No,” you snap, driving him away harder.

Rafe feels hollow. Lost. He’s fine with showing anger. It’s second nature to him. But this? This tangled feeling of yearning feels impossible to verbally express to you.

“Why?” is all he can sputter.

“I’m not letting you use me anymore,” you say through gritted teeth.

Rafe had no idea you’d react like this over the moronic shit he and his friend said. He thought you were fine with how things were. That you were detached.

Despite the rage and anxiety consuming him, the fact that you’re this angry over this ridiculous idea that you’re not a person to him, that you maybe want to be more, makes hope bloom in his heart.

“It’s not like that,” Rafe says.

“It is,” you argue. “I’m done acting like I’m okay with it. I could handle it at the beginning, but…”

You sigh. You can’t give him the satisfaction of telling him you have feelings for him. You start to get choked up again, though, your body betraying you. You can’t hide what he does to you from him anymore.

“I’m done,” you say resolutely. This man is nothing but trouble. “My contact picture in your phone is a fucking nude. I’m just body parts to you and I respect myself too much to keep this going. Just leave. You won’t change my mind.”

“I can’t… I can’t not see you anymore,” he grovels.

“You’re just mad you won’t be able to brag to your buddies about what I let you do to me.”

“No.” Rafe brings the heels of his hands up to his eyes, looking so damn flustered. “I’m not mad about that. I… Fuck, it’s…”

“What about when he called me a slut to run through? You laughed. After he said something so fucking horrible about me-”

“Wait,” he snaps, tone rising. “Just wait. Let me talk.”

“Then talk,” you say sharply, shocked by his audacity to be the angry one here.

He takes a deep breath.

“When he called you that, I…” Rafe rakes his hand through his hair. “It’s how we always talk and I - I know that’s a shitty excuse, but I didn’t have the balls to tell him to shut the fuck up. And then last night…”

He vaguely gestures to his black eye. His mind replays the rage he felt when he heard the vulgar words used to describe you. The way his fist met his friend’s jaw. Rafe walked away with a swollen eye, but it was nothing compared to what he had inflicted.

“He said something about you and I beat the shit out of him like I should’ve the first time.”

“What’d he say?” you ask after a beat.

“It doesn’t matter.”

So, that’s what happened to him last night. You’re almost touched to hear he defended your honor, but the memory of the text you saw on his phone darkens your mood instantly, reminding you of how dispensable and cheap it made you feel.

“This the same friend who texted you about all the bitches at that party?” you say bitterly.

Rafe meets your gaze.

“You saw that?”

“Yeah,” you say. Rafe realizes that was the reason for your abrupt coldness. You were jealous. He hates that he hurt you, but admittedly, the feeling of you being envious over him is so fucking gratifying.

He sighs your name. He didn’t even glance at another girl last night. Why would he? “For fuck’s sake, I texted you all night. I told you I’m always thinking about you.”

“Rafe, you texted me about how all you want to do is hook up with me.”

“That’s not… that’s not all I want,” he sighs, defeated. How can he explain that the way he touches you is how he tells you what he’s feeling? He’s so fucking bad at talking about it.

“Then why did you talk about me like that?” you ask.

“I was…” Rafe begins. He swallows hard, his eyes refusing to meet yours now. “I know I shouldn’t have said that shit but-”

“You’re only saying this now ‘cause you got caught.”

“No, it’s - it’s more than that. I-”

“You were just being honest,” you say with a shrug. “I did everything you told me to and you wanted to brag.”

“Yeah- I mean, no…” he stammers. Your use of the past-tense is so damn hurtful, the implication that you really are through with him, and before he can think to hide it, tears start to gloss his eyes. “Just listen-”

“If I’m just an easy fuck to you, then that’s fine, just own up to it.”

“Let me talk!” he finally shouts. Rafe’s head is spinning. He’s angry and anxious and close to losing his mind.

You don’t even cower, not letting him get to you. But when you realize he’s crying, too, your blood runs cold.

“Goddamn it.” He frantically brings his hands up to his head, fingers on his temples. “I’m trying to tell you that I didn’t know how to- I don’t know how to talk about this fucking feeling you give me.”

“Try,” you say.

Rafe’s breath is shaky, blinking fast as he gazes at you.

“This is more than sex. I’m fucking… I’m falling for you,” he finally admits.

No words come to your mind. The air between you is thick. Your heart is pounding in your ears. Your stomach is numb.

Rafe lowers his gaze, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He’s worked himself up in such a panic.

He doesn’t know how or when you cracked into this side of him that he didn’t even know existed, but you did. And you’re not leaving.

“Are you serious?” you ask quietly through a shallow exhale.

“Do I need to beg you to believe me?” he says.

“Yeah,” you say with a sarcastic huff, pushing him to see where his limit is. To see if he’s being honest.

You can’t believe what you’re seeing when Rafe sinks down onto the floor in front of you, his knees on your cheap linoleum. He takes your hand in his, pulling it to his warm mouth, soft lips kissing your palm.

He realizes he would rather lose all of his pride than lose you.

“Rafe,” you say, the edge to your tone completely gone now.

The shift in your dynamic is harrowing. He’s always the one in control, the one with the upper hand. Now he’s on his fucking knees for you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I’m so fucking sorry I said that shit. I’ll never do it again. You’re not just an easy…”

He can’t even say it.

“You’re so much more,” he says. There’s hopelessness in his gaze. You’re rattled with shock, your heart feeling like it’s burning in your chest.

You can’t believe it. You can’t fathom that he likes you more than just from the waist down.

“What if I stopped hooking up with you?” you challenge. “I keep seeing you but it’s nothing physical. What then?“

“That’s okay,” he says, without hesitation.

“I mean no sex,” you say. “At all.”

“Fine.”

You pout at him in endearment as relief pools through you.

Rafe is racked with the deepest form of desperation. He can’t picture a day without you. Without your smile, your humor, your voice, your smell. He fell off the deep end and there’s no fucking saving him.

Your stare is puncturing him. He’s sure he fucked up too massively to earn any sort of chance with you ever again.

But when you finally lean down to press your lips onto his, euphoria rushes through his entire being. He frantically scrambles to stand, feeling his face contort with disbelief and gratefulness and a yearning so hard that it hurts.

Rafe’s kisses are deep but fast, his big hands cradling your head, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones.

You pull back, looking up at him with a tiny shred of remaining suspicion that he’s not being genuine.

“Let me stay the night,” he says, voice low, lids heavy. You’re unsure that he really means he’d be with you even without the sex.

You only look at him.

“I won’t try anything,” he adds. He knows you needed the reassurance. You stare at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, resting your hands on his firm, heaving chest.

“Shower with me,” you tell him, restless to wash the night off of you. “And prove it.”

Rafe nods, your face still in his hands. Fuck, he feels like you have him wrapped around your finger. He’d do anything to keep you in his life.

“Let me do the work,” he says.

You step back, heart racing, and raise your hands over your head. His fingers quickly find the edge of your top, slowly lifting it and pulling it off of you. Your jeans are next, the denim sliding down your legs.

Rafe presses against you, leading you backwards into your bathroom. His lips press against your forehead as he unhooks your bra and lets it fall to the floor.

He’s on his knees again as he peels your underwear off. You watch his eyes trail up your bare body. He can’t hide the lust in his stare, no matter how hard he tries.

As you turn on the shower, you hear the rustle of him taking his clothes off. When you step into the tub, you feel his body against your back. Big hands skim up your arms as you turn the faucet, prompting hot water to rain down on both of you.

Rafe can’t stop himself from asking.

“Did you talk to any guys at that party?” His voice echoes against the porcelain, loud even over the sound of the shower.

You smile to yourself.

“How am I gonna focus on another guy when you’re texting me so damn much?”

“Princess,” he huffs. You laugh and turn in his arms to rest your hands on his shoulders.

“No,” you tell him. “I didn’t want to.”

Rafe smirks and leans down, but stops an inch away from your lips.

“Am I allowed to kiss you?” he asks.

“Hmm�� fine,” you tease. “But that’s the farthest you can go.” He captures your lips in his, his mouth warm. You feel him grow against you and you pull away to look down, his cock already almost fully hard.

“Okay, I can’t control that,” he says. You meet his eyes and share the first laugh that you’ve had together tonight.

You pick up your body wash and hand it to him. It’ll drive him crazy to touch you like this and not be able to do anything about it.

“You get my body,” you say, admittedly excited to tempt him. “And I’ll do my hair.”

Rafe’s forehead crinkles in concentration as he squeezes the body wash into his palm. Your eyes are on him as he lathers the gel over your shoulders first.

“You’re cute when you’re focused,” you giggle, starting to massage your shampoo into your hair.

The sound of your laugh, the aroma in the air is so fucking nice to him. It’s so you.

His palms move up and down your arms in gentle circles. Rafe’s groin is getting tighter by the second and the fact that he won’t get any relief for it is agony. But he needs to prove himself to you.

“You ignoring my tits on purpose?” you ask.

Rafe cocks his head in mild irritation. Touching you there will only make him harder. You exhale in pleasure once his hands rest on your breasts, gently kneading.

“You can’t make those sounds,” he says, voice strained.

“I can do whatever I want,” you reply. His hands dip below the curves of your tits. You purposely moan louder than you normally would just to torment him.

His jaw tightens as he collects more of your body wash to smooth down your stomach. His hands slide over your hips, the water and soap making your skin extra slippery, and he lands on your ass.

“Massage me a bit there,” you tell him. He huffs an aggravated chuckle, then starts to rub into your flesh.

The crook of Rafe’s neck is at your chin as he leans to massage you and you plant a gentle kiss on his wet skin. The gesture makes his stomach twist with adoration.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he mumbles, running his hands up your back. You can feel him against your leg; he’s fully erect and pining for you to touch him.

“My ass is still sore,” you groan, continuing to lather the shampoo onto your hair. “You were so rough on me in front the mirror, remember?”

The memory of fucking you on the floor in his room makes his arousal skyrocket even higher. He exhales and smooths his hands over your ass again.

You tilt your head to the side as you moan. You feel Rafe’s mouth press against your exposed neck, then he grunts against your skin and moves away abruptly.

“Getting frustrated?” you whisper.

“No,” he lies.

The hot water continues to ebb down your body as Rafe squeezes your ass.

“You can get my legs now,” you mumble. He’s half-relieved, half-frustrated to have to move his hands.

Rafe rubs in circles over your thighs, his breath heavy.

“Get on your knees so you can reach everything,” you say as you wash out the shampoo from your hair. You’re testing him, ordering him around like he usually does to you, seeing if he’ll crack.

When he kneels down, you hike your leg up onto the tub, your middle inches away from his face.

“Fuck,” he breathes, wishing he could just taste you. His hands are sliding down your calves as he gawks at the beauty between your legs, knowing you’re purposely tempting him.

His eyes trail up to your face. He looks ravenous for you.

Falling for you. He said he was falling for you.

“What?” you say with a smile. Rafe only shakes his head, continuing to run his hands over your legs.

“I said kissing is allowed,” you say, revelling in this feeling of control over him.

He doesn’t waste a second. His lips are against your pussy immediately, kissing you over and over. If you tried to keep count of how many kisses he was planting on you, you’d fail in seconds.

Arousal twists deep inside you, wanting him so badly, but loving the game you’re playing.

His lips wrap around your clit and he starts to suck, prompting you push your fingers through his hair, damp from the shower, and tug to pull him off of you.

“Kisses only,” you say. “Unless you didn’t mean what you said?”

“I did,” he huffs. He roughly shoves your wrist away to get close to you again, lips puckered. You feel his fingers ghost over your inner thighs, then pull apart your lips.

“Can I spread you open, baby?” he asks.

“No,” you respond.

“Please,” he begs.

“Kisses. Only.”

He groans. You laugh.

“You got me so turned on,” you moan. “I need to just…”

You slip your fingers between his mouth and your clit, denying him any more access.

Rafe thinks this could be thing to that finally makes him lose his fucking mind. But he stays still, knees aching from the hard tub, as you play with yourself right in front of him.

“That feels so nice,” you whisper, your knees weak. You put your other hand against the shower wall, looking down at him.

“Hold me up,” you order. He grips your hips and watches you moan and writhe over him, dipping your head back.

You dip a finger inside of you, tightening and sighing.

“Fuck.” He literally whimpers the word.

“God, there’s so many things I can think about while I touch myself,” you moan. “Like when we fucked in your car? Or when I squirted on you?”

“Which time?” he mutters, trying to have any sort of power right now by reminding you of what he can do to you.

“Aw,” you coo. “Is this like when I’m on camera? You can watch but you can’t touch me?”

“Shit,” Rafe breathes. You moan, the water dripping off of you.

He has to look away at this point. His cock is so hard that it hurts. His eyes go low, seeing a bead of precum on his swollen tip. He tries to comfort himself by thinking about how he can jerk off later.

“Get up,” you say. He brings himself up on his feet, towering over you again.

You turn your back to him again and start to rub your scalp to make sure you washed all the shampoo out.

“You’re probably cold on that side, hmm?” you ask.

Rafe’s temperature is the least of his concerns.

“I’ll keep you warm,” you tell him, looking over your shoulder. You run your hands down your body and pause over your ass, spreading yourself open.

“Put your cock right here,” you tell him.

“I- I can’t,” he moans.

“You can,” you encourage.

He kneels to place himself right where you want him. You let go, your asscheeks hugging him, feeling his length pressed up against you.

“Fuck,” he whispers, twitching against you. “This is… fuck…”

“If you didn’t mean that you can be with me without the sex, just say so.”

“I meant it,” he says. “But this is torture. I need to go. I’ll wait for you in your room, okay?”

“You can’t keep it together for me?” you tease. “I thought you liked me.”

“I fucking love you,” Rafe groans, making your heart flutter.

You’re done playing this game. You need him now.

You turn to face him, pulling him down with your hands cupping his neck to kiss him. He’s biting your bottom lip, kissing you hard.

“We don’t have to do this,” he whispers breathlessly.

“I want to,” you say against his lips, wrapping your hand around his cock. “What do you want?” He bucks up against you, groaning.

“I wanna fuck you,” he pleads.

“Then fuck me.”

Rafe’s rough and fast as he hitches your leg up, pushing you to lean against the shower wall. He lines himself up at your cunt, stretching you so much nicer than your fingers ever could.

He keeps his eyes on you when he thrusts into you, his expression both needy and satisfied.

“Thank you,” he whispers. The feeling of him thanking you for letting him be inside you hits you like a drug.

Rafe is in heaven. You squeeze him so fucking good as he rocks in and out of you. He needs to make you cum before he does. You deserve it. You deserve all the pleasure in the world.

When he starts to rub his thumb over your clit, you’re trembling with bliss. Everything in this moment feels so damn good.

“You’re my girl,” he mumbles, his usual possessive side back now. “Say it.”

“I’m your girl,” you respond. “Fuck… I love you.”

Rafe is sure he has never felt happier in his life. His thrusts get harder and faster, and with the pressure on your clit and the hot water coating your body, you whine through your orgasm.

To him, it’s a gift watching you reach your peak. You clench around him in rhythmic flutters and he can’t hold back anymore, his cum gushing out of him so fucking hard that he sees stars.

This is the best sex he’s ever had. Because now he knows it’s more than just something physical for both of you.

He kisses you hard as his body trembles, pumping into you. His forehead is against yours as you pant together and even though he’s exhausted, he stays inside you as long as he can manage.

When he pulls out, he brings his hands to your cheeks and kisses you again.

“You meant that?” he asks. He needs to know you that really do love him. That it wasn’t a heat of the moment thing. You look up at him, his lips parted, the water dripping down his face.

“Yes,” you say. His dimples are deep in his cheeks as he smiles at you.

As Rafe helps you clean up, he’s pissed at himself that he never did this before. He hates that you had to always do this alone. He won’t ever let that happen again.

Once you’re both lying in your bed, your bedroom dark save for a streetlamp casting a dull light through the window, Rafe holds you tight.

Your cheek is against his shoulder as he surrounds you in his arms. You both remained naked and the feeling of your bare bodies pressed together like this is perfection.

You softly trace your finger over the bruise covering his eye. The one his friend left on him because of something he said about you.

“What’d he say?” you ask.

“I’m not repeating it,” Rafe replies.

“Please?” you ask. “I wanna know what made you go crazy.”

“He said I seem happier lately,” Rafe says. “And before I told him it was because I wanna… be with you for real, he said… he wants to see if he could get…”

“God,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. He doesn’t have to say any more. His buddy wanted a turn with you.

“But hey, I’m not gonna let anyone say anything like that about you, okay?” he promises. “I’ll beat the shit out of anyone who tries to.”

You picture being out in public with Rafe, his arm around you. And you can’t help but ask. You need to know.

“So… are you gonna… want me around your friends and stuff?” you ask.

“Of course,” he tells you, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re my girl, right?”

It’s jarring. You’re not a lower-class maid to him. Not his personal whore. Not his slutty sugar baby. You’re a woman he loves.

Legs tangled, you fall asleep together, and you adore that the worry of falling for him is now gone. Because you’re in love, and so is he, and now you can enjoy him without telling yourself you can’t.

When you wake up the next morning, you shuffle in your position to find him, but you’re alone.

Your heart drops. Could he have been faking…?

You can’t jump to that conclusion. You’re about to check your phone when you hear crinkling coming from the kitchen.

You put on underwear and the shirt you stole from him a while ago before padding into the kitchen. He’s standing over your table, removing containers from bags.

You realize it’s from your favorite nearby bistro. He ordered food for you.

“Breakfast?” you ask. Rafe looks up at you and he doesn’t understand how every time he sees you, you strike him with how adorable you are.

“You hungry?” he says.

You settle across from him at the table. You realize he must have referenced the screenshot you sent him after the first night that he stayed over, when he sent you money to order breakfast and you sent him proof of what you bought.

As you dig into your food, you gaze at him. Blue eyes meet yours. He smirks. It doesn’t feel real. He used to look so out of place in your apartment, but this feels so natural.

“We gonna talk about how much of a cuddler you are?” you tease.

“Shut up,” he laughs. “Eat your food.”

You laugh and continue to chew.

“What do you have to do today?” he asks.

“I should study,” you say. “I was going to last night after work, but you know…”

Rafe looks down and his Adam’s apple bobs with his hard swallow.

“Are you gonna keep working?” he asks. “I don’t want you to. I wanna take care of you.”

As much as he loves seeing you around his house twice a week, he’s been getting more and more uncomfortable with the idea of you having to work so hard, having to clean up after him.

“Yeah,” you finally say. “I think I need to have the independence. To know I’m working for my own money. Does that make sense?”

“With your attitude? Yeah,” he says. You laugh.

You hope the gossip between your coworkers doesn’t get any farther up the chain. For now, you want to keep your job and the steadiness it promises.

“You can’t pull me away from my work to hook up whenever you want, though, okay?” you say.

“Even when I find you in my bed?” he asks.

“That was one time,” you scoff.

Rafe leans over to place his phone in front of you. He has your contact info up. The photo isn’t what it was before, though. It’s a photo of you sleeping, cheek pressed on his chest.

He must have taken it this morning. He wants to prove you’re not just a body to him.

Your eyes study his screen and you smile, oblivious to the fact that he’s staring at you.

But then again, you never really noticed how much he looked at you whenever you came to work at the house.

He can still remember the rush he felt when he randomly found you on that damn website. You were a fucking fantasy to him, a dream that he never thought he’d get to live out.

But here you are and by some crazy stroke of luck, you found something in him worth loving.

Rafe always enjoyed having some sort of ownership over you, claiming you as his. Because deep down, he always kind of knew he belonged to you. Whether you want him or not, he’s yours.

(the end) (continuation blurbs)

author’s note: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT FOR THIS SERIES 💘 it’s so bittersweet ending it. i had so much fun writing this and it’s because of your comments and messages 😭 i’ll be writing more fics! if you want updates, please follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications since i’ll be reblogging my work there. love you all!!!

[dellalyra]

Hell hath no fury…

Summary: Like a woman scorned… you are sick of how the brothers treat the secondborn.

CW: swearing, mentions of bullying, brief sexual references, anger

A/N: dipping my toe into the obey me pond…

“Haha! Stupidmammon!”

“Mammon if you were any stupider, I’d have to water you twice a week.”

“He’s not called the scummy secondborn for nothing!”

“You worthless pest.”

A loud SMACK echoed around the room. Your hand collides with the mahogany of the dining table and sends glasses and food flying in all directions.

7 jaws dropped and widened eyes stared at you in pure shock.

Did you do that? Their warm, darling little human?

The look on your face shocked even Lucifer – pure, unbridled rage equal almost to Satan’s was painted across your face like neon lights.

“That is ENOUGH.” You roar.

Are we sure she’s not a demon?

“Y/N – mind y-” Lucifer began.

“Shut it, Morningstar.” You snap, voice icey and glaring at him.

You take a breath and all the brothers gasp, waiting for Lucifer’s retaliation. Nobody had ever told him to shut up – even Satan or Belphie wouldn’t go that far.

Surprisingly, nothing happens.

You stare them all down.

“All of you, I am sick and tired of your incessant and needless bullying of Mammon. You are brothers for fuck’s sake!” You slam your hand on the table again, truly, you were exhausted listening to them.

Mammon seemed equally as shocked as his brothers by your outburst.

“Y/N! There is no need for this kind of behaviour.” Lucifer says, eyeing your tense stance.

“You’re included in this too Lucifer. All of you, you all use him as a scapegoat and punching bag.” You huff out, hands shaking with fury.

“Y/N/N, he does it to himself, sweetie! He is such an idiot we just have to put him in his place!” Asmodeus chirps, eyelashes fluttering. No charm will work on you now.

“Do you all realise the things you tease him for are things you all do yourselves? Are you aware of your blatant fucking hypocrisy?” Seething, you point at all of them.

“Are you inferring that we are all capable of the levels of idiocy Mammon is, Y/N?” Lucifer growls.

“Thank you for proving my point. Belphegor: if someone pushed a squishy, soft, warm bed with fluffy blankets in front of you – what would you do?” You ask, turning to the youngest.

“Sleep.” He replies, shrugging.

“Beelzebub, if I placed a huge plate of human world cheeseburgers in front of you – what would you do?” It was the sixth horns turn now.

“Do you have some? I’m still really hungry.” He replied, almost drooling.

“Satan – someone steals a book from you or says you’re inferior to Lucifer - you’re gonna lose you’re shit aren’t you?” The spark of fury in the demon’s eyes and the nod and growl are answer enough.

“Asmodeus, a beautiful creature is placed in front of you, radiant, glowing and oh so ready and willing to fuck you – what do you do?” You ask, leaning to face him.

He bites his lip and his eyes turn hooded.

“Give them the night of their lives obviously!” He giggles.

“Levi – If I walked in here tomorrow with the newest, mint condition, one of a kind Ruri-Chan figurine - wouldn’t you just be overcome with envy, wrought with spite that I had it all for myself?” He nods, frowning at you and the imagined figurine.

“Lucifer – if I told you that you’re not very good at your job and you have failed as a leader and brother, would you do everything to prove me wrong? Punish me for insulting your pride?” You raise your eyebrow in challenge, and for a moment you see a flash of respect in the eldest brother’s eyes.

“What are you all?” You continue.

“Eh, demons?” Levi asks.

“Brothers?” Beel adds.

Silence.

“Avatars of sin.” You respond.

“You all are the physical, corporeal embodiments of these sins. You all give in to your sins and temptations, yet Mammon is the only one who truly gets mocked and punished and bullied for what he naturally is? Mammon is greedy, just as you are slothful, gluttonous, wrathful, lustful, envious and prideful. You are all raging fucking hypocrites, and I am sick to death of how you treat your brother. Should this continue, I’m going to start treating all of you how you treat Mammon.” You finish your tirade and there is stunned silence in the room.

“Have you even considered how hurtful it must be to hear this from you all? Lucifer – you are his eldest brother, he admires you. Imagine if Diavolo treated you how you treat Mammon. The rest of you, Mammon helped raise you all! Fucking hell - I’ve never been more disappointed in all of you than witnessing the incessant need of you all to be absolute shitheads to your brother.”

Silence again. Mammon is just staring at you, blue and gold eyes like flying saucers.

“Now, I’m going to bed. I need to cool down, so none of you come near me tonight. That includes you Lucifer, I’ll be in my own bed.” And with that you storm out of the room.

Seven pairs of eyes follow your figure. Even Beel has stopped eating.

Nobody says a word. The air is awkward because they know you’re right.

Satan is the first to speak up.

“Did we… did we just get mothered by a human? Lucifer did your girl truly just parent us?”

“It… appears she did.”

[sagau-my-beloved]

How would Venti feel if we asked him to be our boyfriend? :3 in the real world au

Venti Boyfriend Headcanons:

Ok so I have no idea if "boyfriend" is like a common term used in Teyvat, I see no reason why it wouldn't be, but I can't think of a specific instance in which I have read it, so for the sake of making this funnier, I'm going to pretend like it isn't

Also this literally just turned into boyfriend headcanons so whoops—

Warnings: like nothing, this is just wholly fluff

-

• "Boy,,, friend??"

• His face falls as soon as he hears you propose it

• Is generally distraught that you didn't think of him as a friend up until this point

• You two had known each other for so long and shared so many wonderful times together

• Were you only just now considering him to be a friend???

• "Venti... Venti no—"

• You have to explain that concept in words he understands, romantic partner, significant other, lover

• He almost passes out when it finally does register

• "You mean it!? You want to be like that? With me???"

• "That is generally what a person means when they ask somebody to be their boyfriend—"

• You are now both on the floor because of how quickly he tried jumping into your arms

• "Yes yes yes! I love you so much, thank you! I'll be the perfect boyfriend!"

• The only problem is he doesn't really know what all that entails in your world, if it's different from his world

• Research time

• One hundred percent the type to look up "how to be a good boyfriend" and find like a wikihow, then study it intensely

• Notes were made

• Tries to at least attempt everything that he sees (and thinks is a good idea), then very carefully studies your reactions to decide how he wants to proceed

• Cooks for you and makes you things and considers any time that you are hanging out to be a date

• Is constantly showing you off to everyone and everything

• Takes great pride in being the person you chose for a partner, also becomes a little obsessed with keeping that title

• Loves hearing you call him yours, it's an immediate sure fire way to brighten his mood

• "Pleeease, one more time, I won't ask again, today."

• It's really impossible to deny him when he looks at you like that, in a manner that can only be described as completely infatuated

• You sigh, this being the fifth time today you've been forced to do this, "I'm glad you're mine, and I would choose you over anyone Venti."

• Giggles and hugs you, thanking you and promising to prove himself even more

• Constantly refers to himself as your boyfriend when anyone asks, or doesn't ask

• Wants to meet all your friends, anybody that you interact with consistently, anybody related to you

• It's a way of showing he takes the whole thing seriously

• Also, you're going to have to constantly be explaining how your boyfriend is, in fact, old enough to drink, and significantly older than you, for that matter

• Nobody believes you

• I think I've really driven the point home about how much he just absolutely loves physical affection

• So that's going to be happening a lot more now

• He'll probably get more diverse in his pet names too, making a game out of finding a new one

• "Oh my one and only, light of my life, peak of my existence, where are youuu?"

• "You know my name works fine, right?"

• He's also gonna take up house husband responsibilities

• I mean, he was already doing that, but without the addition of knowing he was doing it

• "My angel you're back! I missed you soooo much, tell me all about your day~"

• On a good note, he's going to be way less effected by jealousy because he now has a title to prove that he's more important to you than everybody else

• If he ever needs to confront somebody that he's jealous of, he's going to absolutely rub that title in their face

• He's just so happy that you love him and he considers the title of being your lover to be so much farther above all the other ones he has

[vrisrezis]

aot characters having a crush + dating hcs (havent proof read sorry for any mistakes)

- she understands that there’s something that draws you to her, however doesn’t fully understand what it is at first

- it’s enough to make her be more interested in you rather than the yeagers

- she believes that it might be your strength that’s overwhelming (and if you have overwhelming strength she is convinced that’s what it is for awhile)

- it is until she sees how Niccolo and Sasha are with eachother does she actually realize that what she feels is love and attraction towards you

- upon realizing this, doesn’t know what to do at first

- she was originally professional, but often kept to your side and felt an odd protectiveness admiration towards you

- now, she was much more casual and more flirtatious

- while acting confident around you, she secretly got butterflies.. you made her ... nervous ..

- nonetheless flirting with you is often, sometimes going as far as to kiss your hand

- she wants to properly court you and get you to return her feelings. She’d feel really bad if you never felt the same. Especially since she isn’t as used to the feeling

- it takes a long time for her to finally ask you out officially, but she does and is pleased by your answer

- however being with yelena isn’t easy, she isn’t one to follow you around like a lost puppy

- she had her motivations, she’s a yeagerist. If you’re not okay with that she isn’t gonna care enough to bother to stay along.

- she feels bad of course, she loves you after all but still

- if she ever had to go against you it hurt her but she would also understand it just needs to be done

- when that mess is over though she is fine with just sticking by your side

- or if you join her it just makes your relationship stronger and better

- doesn’t like pda cuz people might think she’s weak but she’s very soft when you guys are alone though

- lots of smooches from her

- she loves to tease you as well, she can’t help it though..

- she says you’re just so cute she has to bully you a little (more like a lot)

- secretly wants you two to get married so one day she will purpose be prepared for it

- she knows it’s stupid but hey... she has some hope

- secretly feels lucky to be with you even if she doesn’t say it

- doesn’t say that she loves you as often as she’d like, which she feels bad for deep down

- she doesn’t always know how to be vulnerable and express herself, while yes it does happen it takes time

- in a way you are her safe space and you make her calmer

- in a way, you were her hope and her god more than zeke ever was.. and that’s because you allowed to her to feel freedom, to feel love and to feel being loved, you’re more of a god to her now more than .. anyone else

- so maybe she tends to be a bit too protective, and maybe she tends to be very short with others that wanna talk to you because she wants your attention, aaaand maybe she tends to go overboard for you because she believes you saved her...

- so maybe she shows she loves you through actions rather than words

(While I don’t like her in the romantic sense she is my second best girl so I felt it was almost necessary)

- having a crush is always complicated, especially when you’re a kid.

- when you’re a kid as stubborn and prideful as gabi though, it’s even more complicated.

- she doesn’t even realize she likes you either, she’s too into her own head. Too overconfident to think about other people and especially in that way .. she’s oblivious, even to her own emotions

- she can’t help but wanna be around you all the time though, that’s something not even she can ignore

- she tries to impress you often, she will do the dumbest shit just to get you to pay attention to her in some way

- she works harder than normal, falco notices that immediately and catches onto what’s going on

- she tries to act tougher around you, just better in general

- she gets protective of you, when she does something stupid and you follow along she gets really angry and doesn’t understand why

- eventually after a talk with falco, she realizes (finally) that she likes you but never knows how to approach something like that

- eventually works up to the courage to tell you how she really feels about you but it’s really rushed

- is very happy when you guys start dating though

- doesn’t know how relationships should go.. important to keep in mind it’s her first relationship and you guys are just kids

- everyone likes you guys together though

- often grabs your hand, as her way of trying to keep you protected

- she hates getting you involved in her messes but it happens very often and she feels bad about it like everytime

- the first time you kissed she was a blushy mess wow

- yeah you’re the only one that’ll make her so flustered like that

- and it’s easy too, all you gotta do is kiss her cheek, or hand, and she loses it

- she lets you do her hair every morning, ah so today you decided to do her normal look? With the ponytail with some hair down? Or maybe a full on ponytail? Or maybe a little braid, or maybe just leaving her hair down for the day? Yeah who knows! Really she doesn’t care you do her hair everyday now

- speaking of which likes you playing with her hair even if she doesn’t admit it or say much about it

- hugs are often from her but usually when nobody’s around, she’s been through a lot... especially for a 12 year old.. (probably you too), just hug it out y’all

- she has a problem saying that she loves you, not that she doesn’t but she feels almost scared to say it.. like maybe you don’t love her and just like her

- after all, you guys are young.. how would you even know what romantic love is?

- but deep down you both know that nobody else would ever in a million years make you guys feel how you two feel about eachother

- on multiple occasions thought of leaving this all behind with you and falco and just living in a forest or something together but she knows she wouldn’t be happy that way

- she was meant to fight, but she and you make a promise to try not to die in this shitty war

- she will brag about how amazing of a girlfriend she is, but also brag about how you’re a wonderful s/o and how everyone should be jealous of how happy she is

- you know how she screamed while those mfs were getting trampled? Yeah if anyone were to hurt you she screams that kinda crazy ...

- she’s just extremely protective and really doesn’t wanna lose you too:( she’s lost some close friends and she’s scared of losing you as well

- kinda just always sticks to you like glue

- Levi just refers to you as the brats s/o

- real talk though Sasha would’ve adored you guys and been your biggest shipper

- gabi gets embarrassed if anyone says how cute you guys are

( not interested in him romantically either but he is a fav)

- falco realizes quite quickly that he likes you, gabi loves to constantly remind him and tease him to hell about it which is so annoying to him ...

- while he worries about you .. way too often.. if you ever wanted to become a titan he is doing everything he can to make sure it doesn’t happen

- he is extremely blushy and flustered around you like at all times

- he can’t say for certain he’s in love, after all he’s a kid and he knows at that age he has no idea what that shit is but at the same time he’s never felt this way for anyone in his life and he doesn’t think he ever will

- protective of you, especially in battles. Would not hesitate to jump in front of you to save you and take any hits he can for you. He does this for gabi and still does. He’s a protective guy when it comes to you two

- he lacks the confidence to tell you how he feels, he is extremely shy with you

- eventually gabi eggs him on so much that he’s basically forced to ask you out

- he’s relieved you say yes

- he’s even more blushy around you though, and ends up panicking because he’s not sure how he should be around you..

- should he act different? Or the same? Yeah you get it

- he loves holding your hand though, while it does make him die on the inside it makes him happy and warm

- hug him and he will die

- kiss him and he will die like 10 times over

- seriously this boy can’t handle affection without having like a heart attack or something

- gabi just thinks it’s so hilarious

- sometimes gabi purposelessly gets you guys to kiss so he can just die

- he’s an awkward boy but he loves you ... yes he loves you

- he’s way too scared to say it though, what if it’s too soon, what if you laugh, etc.

- will genuinely get mad in a relationship now though if you still wanna be a titan.. before he kept it to himself but he believes he deserves a say now that you’re dating and really hates the idea of your life being shortened

- eventually he admits he loves you, he wants you to live a long life, he wanted you guys to get married someday

- he would have dreams, fantasies, about you guys getting married.. even before you were dating

- it’s how he realized his feelings

- he would have dreams about you all the time

- now he still does, but he can just visit you at night and be by your side

- if he can, he’d like to buy you things and overall spoil you

- or try to take you out on dates as often as he could

- everyone knew about his crush though if we’re being honest he is obvious as fuck

- he would be too shy to hug you, but secretly wants a big hug from you give him a hug you both have been through it

- secretly a clingy boy don’t comment on it he will die

- he just wants to keep you safe and protect you please let him protect you

- she’s a bit of a tsundere let’s be real! She can be a bit mean at times and brush you off

- or just relentlessly tease you

- however she cares about you, she wanted you to live a long life and not get yourself involved in this fucked up shit

- that’s why she for the longest time wanted you in the military police

- and why it’s so obvious to everyone else that she likes you

- she eventually admits her feelings thanks to marlo and she is forever grateful to him for it even after him being gone

- hand holding is often, and gives you a big kiss on the cheek usually

- she’s not shy about her relationship, she wants everyone to know. She doesn’t see it as weakness

- besides she lost an important friend, she wants you to know you’re important to her and that she isn’t ashamed of you or to be with you.

- enjoys teasing you in general, sometimes will tease and call you a perv even if you’re so obviously not being one she loves to embarrass you

- often feels worried whenever she can’t be with you

- she often freaks herself out and thinks something bad might’ve happened to you

- she always tries to be respectful of you and your boundaries, while this is a normal thing to do she really gets worried about overstepping ever and will apologize even when she doesn’t have to

- something about you just makes her more soft and more worried she’s doing something bad or wrong

- protective gal that will kick anybody’s ass for you to keep you safe

- in the world you live in though, kinda necessary isn’t it?

- she tries to take you on dates and even if it isn’t always a common occurrence she tries her best

- kinda wants to baby you sometimes but she also knows how annoyed she’d be if you did so

- she just cannot help but act like a mom sometimes to you, especially if you don’t know how to take care of yourself

- now that you’re dating flirting with you is quite common, she likes to flirt !

- especially if it makes you flustered, all of a sudden she’s a huge flirt now

- overall you make her nervous and flustered, so she wants you to feel the same

- totally used to gush about you to like Annie before you guys started dating, she couldn’t help it! Thankfully Annie found it amusing

- still even after all these years swoons over you like damn how are you so attractive

- still tries to convince you to stop fighting within the survey corps if she can but she knows she can’t at this point with how long it’s been going on you’ve clearly had your mind made up for awhile now

- she wants to start a family with you but doesn’t know how to tell you

- honestly just wants a normal life with you she loves you so much

- (btw, y’all end up having kids named Sasha and marlo <//3)

- she hates the idea of you dying it’s something she thinks about extremely often and she gets nightmares

- she tries to keep that from you, honestly she tries to make herself look strong in front of you like all the time

- she eventually opens up doe

- give her cuddles and hugs ;( plz

- oohhh boy here we go

- if falco was bad enough well here’s armin

- motherfucker dies if you even look his way

- he’s so blushy and so nervous, he cannot help it

- he would eventually get comfortable around you though, and would often talk to you about the sea and things he wanted to explore with you together

- or read books for you to fall asleep to

- it made him happy when you did though, it meant you were comfortable enough to fall asleep around him

- if you ever teased him he wouldn’t know what to say and would just stutter and not get his words out

- in general stutters around you from time to time he can’t help it you make him so nervous

- he told you how he felt of course because of mikasa and eren

- when you guys started dating though, he still didn’t know how to go about romance as it was entirely new to him.

- in a relationship? Not a protective guy let’s be real you’re the one protecting him half the time and he always feels embarrassed about it

- he gets worried easily though, if you’re fighting and tend to be reckless.. it’s easy to be overprotective of a rather weak boy so it’s likely he’s constantly worrying about you .. yeah

- more courage now that you’re dating so if you tease him he may stutter but at least he’ll try to defend himself a bit better

- loves giving you cheek kisses

- shy boy is not for pda but if you wanted it who is he to deny

- likes holding your hand, loves when you hold his hand... man he just loves you so much please

- he probably spent a lot of time talking about you to Annie

- he’s thought about starting a family with you but truly cannot bring himself to talk to you about it, in the world you’re in and the place he holds .. he will just have to wait

- while a smart person, you are somebody he will go to for advice from time to time

- mostly though, he wants to be somebody you can rely on

- spoils you, my god he is such a simp he can’t help but spoil you

- sometimes you’re a distraction he will just stare at you and when he gets caught he’s so embarrassed

- like armin is so obviously in love with you wtf

- he likes being hugged a lot

- often lays his head on your lap and falls asleep he finds it calming

- he’s very sweet, and calls you sweetheart or honey

- he likes to just remind you how much he loves and cares for you, he never wants you to forget.. even if it makes him blushy and embarrassed

- hitch totally teases him about how lame and mushy he can be when it comes to you

- you’re his biggest motivation to finish this war for good

- also he is quite insecure in a relationship but he’s generally insecure asf just reassure him <//3

- what a sweet gal! She loves spending time with you, talking to you about random shit like how your day was and whatnot

- sometimes complains to you about how tough the day was or how hard Levi made her work lol

- or about all the cleaning

- she tells eren about you quite often and even somebody as dumb as eren catches onto her feelings for you

- she’s aware of her feelings.. or eventually becomes aware of them

- she’s not sure initially what to do with them, she’s young but she’s not an idiot and she understands that loving somebody in this line of work isn’t ideal

- she hasn’t truly experienced what others have though, she doesn’t understand the full extent

- so she allows herself to selfishly tell you how she feels

- she’s glad you return them, and if you weren’t already in Levi squad you are now as you show to be an important asset

- often you two will clean together and spend as much time as you can, you keep your relationship mainly secretive

- it’s unprofessional and besides you two might be separated due to Levi’s order

- it’s just best to say you work better together, which you do btw

- while her father believes she’s too young to marry, he does like you nonetheless

- she’s always embarrassed when he brings up the marriage thing and how she’s still young

- the idea of getting married to you just makes her flustered and drives her crazy that’s all

- not for pda, again your relationship is a secret

- Levi catches on, he could care less

- holds your hand mainly, kisses your hand, caresses it ... she loves your hands please

- often jokes around with you, she always did but moreso now that you’re dating

- she likes to tease you a bit but it’s all in good fun, plus bonus points if you get flustered

- she wants to brush and do your hair in the morning (yes even if short)

- she lets you brush and do her hair too though

- in a modern au would totally be the type to make you music playlists and have you listen to them but okay

- she finds comfort in being around you, even in her worst times

- which would’ve saved her tbh

- she tries not to think too much about the future, or a future that could be without you.. she just wants to live in the present with you for now and pretend everything’s gonna be okay

- she’s (mainly cuz of her father) had thoughts about having a normal life with you and getting married and having kids

- she knows that can’t happen, not for a long time :(

- clings to your arm a lot

- she’s good at comforting you

- she’d do anything to keep you from being moody or sad

- she’s also very sappy sometimes

- blushy boy, anytime he’s around you his entire face is filled with an enormous blush that anybody can notice

- while people might not notice things about bertholdt they can at the very least notice his rather obvious crush on you

- if you haven’t made a move by now you either wanna see him do it himself or your oblivious as fuck

- lots of stutters

- probably sweats a little tbh

- stares at you constantly, it’s hard not to notice and Reiner comments on it quite a bit

- if you’re a soldier he definitely feels guilty, but considers taking you back home with Reiner (kinda like ymir with historia)

- he tells you how he feels finally because Reiner keeps egging him about it

- he’s a blushy mess as he confesses, but he’s happy that you say yes

- in a relationship he can be insecure at times, he doesn’t think highly of himself so it’s to be expected

- just reassure him:(

- of course you would know about his secret if you’re a soldier, and you’d have to be okay with it and not expose him. Of course he’ll say his side of the story and all that. It’s likely you take his now

- he’s still a blushy nervous ... and rather obvious boy

- sometimes he just wants to hold your hand but is too shy to but he’s so obvious about it since he keeps staring

- just take this mf hand already

- he’s too shy for a lot of things tbh

- also side note if you’re really short like historia that is so funny to him but he doesn’t say it out loud

- will absolutely swoon if you touch or play with his hair, first of all you’re probably too short to reach his hair so it’s not a common occurrence (or if not, always in public), but also because nobody’s done that before it makes him feel so loved

- after dating for awhile and being a bit more confident he is the type to say I love you often, he can’t help it because he genuinely does love you but sometimes is scared it’ll lose its meaning because he says it so often

- is extremely protective actually, light cause him to make some grave mistakes on the battlefield because of how protective he can be of you

- you in general got him swooning

- he likes to cook for you (back at home?)

- in general would love to just spoil you

- if you do the same he dies

- if you ever compliment him, big blush on his face

- honestly can’t help but talk about you to Reiner, Reiner likes hearing about it though and he’s not annoyed by it because Reiner is a sweet boy that likes hearing his friend be happy

- while he likes you laying on him, likes laying on you more, like your lap or something ..

- he’s a big cuddle baby he wants to be held despite being so tall he is just.. please

- he wants to protect you during the day but at night just wants to feel safe and protected in your arms

- if you were ever threatened, if you are attacked and etc he is gonna be yelling he ain’t going down without a fight

- you make his brain short circuit and you make him stupid

[pansyslut]

If only

femme fatale!reader x draco

requested by @beiahadid | based on the song acquainted by the weekend

warnings: spanking, choking if you squint, penetration, lap dance, guns

baby you're no good

'cause they warned me 'bout your type girl

he watched you as you seductively swayed your hips against the girl next to you. moving your body suggestively as you caress yourself from your breasts all the way down to your center.

the club was dim and was only lit with red lights which was only adding to your desirable look. you turned around and grabbed the girl by her waist drawing her in close to you. kissing up and down her neck slowly and making your way to her breasts. you licked up to her ear and whispered seductively to her.

draco watched in awe as he couldn’t help but wonder what you had whispered to the girl. his eyes couldn’t help but dart across your figure. to your ass, to your waist, to your lips. he wanted so badly to take you home tonight.

realizing he was lost in his thoughts, he looks back up and meets your eye. winking at him, you saunter off to the VIP area. his disappointment was short lived as he saw a bouncer making his way over to him, telling him that his presence was requested.

pushing past the diamond curtain beads and the VIP door, he finds you draped on the sofa smoking a blunt. with hundred dollar bills scattered on the floor, he almost thought you were a prostitute. but glancing over you, he realized you held yourself different. your whole demeanor screamed importance and elegance. you looked so sure, so in control.

you got me puttin' time in, time in

nobody got me feeling this way

you probably think i'm lying, lying

i’m used to bitches comin' right 'way

he was so used to feeling dominate around women- used to feeling so powerful. a small part of the man felt unease. pushing the thought away, he walks over to you and sits down on the sofa.

finally, he realizes your attire. instead of just looking at your body, he drinks you in, taking notice of your latex dress and knee high black boots. he could see your black lace bra peaking through but forced his eyes to look away realizing he probably looked like a perv.

smirking, you propped yourself up on your elbow and looked up at him. laughing to yourself, “i’ve got to admit draco, i was expecting you to look different. it’s a shame you’re so pretty,” you say now frowning and running a finger across his jaw.

he swallows as his eyes grow confused. his mind was running wild, how the hell did she know my name? maybe i’m just that important. he realizes that you probably saw his confused expression to see you shaking your head, “but that’s not the matter now. because right now, i want to have fun.”

connecting your lips to his, all his worries fade away. he had no idea who this girl is or what she wanted but right now his whole body yearned for her. after watching her dance and her relentless teasing, he had grown painfully hard in his pants.

you push him down roughly and cradle him. ripping off his shirt, the buttons fly everywhere. feeling up and down his chest, you lean in to kiss him. he immediately obliges, intertwining your hair with his fingers as your tongues dance playfully.

i'll get you touchin' on your body

i know i’d rather be complacent

but girl i’m so glad we're acquainted

rubbing your center against his growing member, his hands massage your breasts under your dress. unzipping you and throwing your dress to the side, you start to sway your body to the music.

grabbing his throat, you sit him up and sit on his lap facing awak from him. although the music wasn’t as loud as in the club, that was the last thing on his mind. he watched you swivel your hips to the faint beat and twist around him. grinding harshly, he could see you soaking through your laced thong.

“fuck babe, you’re absolutely soaked,” he said, teasing the outer corners, daring to slip a finger in. unzipping his pants and shoving his boxers out the way, he lets his cock spring free.

you gently rub yourself over his tip, listening to him panting harder behind you. sitting fully on him but not taking him in, you grab one of his hands from behind you and placed it on your breast. now leaning against his chest, you whisper “are you gonna do something about it?”

hearing him curse under his breath, he grips your hips and throws you onto the couch. grabbing your ass as you arch your back, he send a smack to it making you moan.

“i’m done with your teasing princess,” he plunges into you making both of you moan in return. you were so used to being in control but you figured that since what was going to take place after this, you should let him enjoy himself.

getting at a good pace, the room is filled with both of your moans and the sounds of your thighs hitting each other with an occasional smack to your ass.

“look at you all spread out for me, what a whore.”

although draco was all talk, you both knew you were the one in control here. you decided you were done with listening so you pushed him out of you and stradeled him once again.

jumping up and down as you grip his hair, he runs his hands up your thighs. his hands stop moving as he feels something solid agianst your leg. you watch his eyes widen, as he finally realizes the small revolver you have strapped to your outer thigh.

pinning his hands down, you continue to bounce, chasing after your orgasm. he looked unsure of what to do but let you continue nonetheless.

finally reaching your euphoric state, you lean against his chest trying to catch your breath. you look up and meet his eyes. looking up at him innocently, you pout. “what is it, daddy? we were having so much fun.”

he watches as an evil smirk plasters your face as you lift from his lap. you stand in front of him now with only your undergarments but instead of looking at your body, this time his eyes are glued to your thigh.

he scolded himself internally for not noticing the gun before. how could he be so stupid? he fell directly into your trap and you got exactly what you wanted.

the fast life keeps gaining on me, shit (the fast life keeps gaining on me)

but ever since i met you (ever since i met you)

i couldn't believe what you did

you reach for your gun and shake your head at the man sitting in shock before you. thinking to yourself, if only men didn’t only think with their dicks.

walking around the couch, eyeing him, you take notice of the dark mark on his forearm. sighing to yourself, “i wasn’t lying before. it really is a shame-” you cut off to see him making a run towards the door. he jiggles it and bangs himself against it.

he hears you laugh wickedly behind him. turning back around, he listens to your manic, hysterical laughing. “you- you really thought,” you pause trying to catch your breath, “that i would be stupid enough to not lock the door?” suddenly your face stiffens and turns emotionless. “naughty, naughty boy. do sit down, and next time if you feel the urge to go for a run, remember i’m the one with a gun.”

your eyes don’t leave him as he slowly walks back to the couch. “like i was saying before i was rudely interrupted, it’s a shame that you value daddy’s opinion so much. i never did like a boy who couldn’t think for himself,” you say now pointing the gun in front of you.

you could tell he was trying to collect himself and stay calm but his body language screamed anything but that. gulping, he finally answers, “baby, let’s talk about this. put the gun down.”

scowling at him, “for future reference, i don’t like boys telling me what to do either,” shooting him blank in the head. walking up to him, you can’t help but admire your work. you thank merlin that the ministry sent you on the mission alone. you definitely enjoyed yourself.

as soon as they got word draco was trying to group up the death eaters again, there was immediately a warrant out for him and they sent out their best to capture him. many failed, but now you could pride yourself of the job at hand.

grabbing your coat and throwing it over your shoulder, you saunter off after throwing a wink towards the bouncers direction. oh, if only men thought with something other than their dicks.

a/n: okay i feel like this definitely isn’t my best work but i wanted to try writing something different and i feel bad for all the requests sitting in my inbox :/

[realcube]

fainted // kei tsukishima

tsukishima passed out during chemistry and you visit him in the nurse’s office

tw// fainting, cussing, sex reference 

You adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder so it sat more comfortably as you rushed down the hallway of your school to get to the nurse’s office, in hopes to see Tsukishima and interrogate him as to what happened in chemistry class. 

Eventually you arrived at the nurse’s office which was located right next to the councillors office, which was in the hallway beside the Home Economics department - hence the whole place reeked of an unholy mix of tears and burnt Quiche. 

After knocking on the door a total of 4 times - Tsukishima liked even numbers apparently - you were met by a faint, “Get to fuck.” From inside the office, taking that as a signal to enter as ‘get to fuck’ was just Tsukki lingo for ‘please, come in! :)’

You slipped through the door, swiftly shutting it behind you to make sure nobody saw inside - to preserve Tsukishima’s pride, of course. You turned to look at the poor, pasty man who was sitting on the make-shift bed with an ice-bag pressed to his forehead and his phone in his hand, mindlessly scrolling and not even sparing you a glance. “I told you not to come in.” He said monotonously.

You frowned and cried, “Babe, you’re so pale!” As you bolted towards him, about to throw yourself into his arms but halting in your tracks as you realised that he might still be nauseous. “And did you really expect me to go home and sleep soundly knowing that there is a chance that my boyfriend could be suffering?”

Tsukishima simply rolled his eyes, turning off the screen of his phone and finally - but briefly - making eye-contact with you. “Nope, you’re way too annoying for that. Also, I fainted; it’s not like I had a heart-attack.” He sneered, tapping his phone against your palm to indicate that he wanted you to take it, His tone softened immediately as a slightly smirk tugged on the corners of his lips, “Could you please put this in my bag for me, angel?”

You raised an eyebrow at his sudden change of attitude, trying your best to stifle a giggle, “Did you hit your head or something?” You remarked, taking his phone from his grip and absently fidgeting with the little dinosaur phone charm that you bought him as you made your way over to his bag, hanging from a coat hook in the corner of the room. Unzipping the front pouch, you slipped his phone inside before turning to look at the weary male from over your shoulder as he yawned in the background, “So, are you alright, babe?” 

Tsukishima hung his head and began tugging on his fingers individually, “Of course I am.” He scoffed, clicking his tongue. “Do I look dead to you?” Instantly after asking that, he regretted it - knowing that you would take that as an opportunity to roast him. (as you should)

And he was right. “Yeah, you do.” You stuck out your bottom lip, shuffling over to where he sat on the double desk that the nurse had disguised as a bed with paper towels and gently pushed him back, cupping the back of his head with your hand until it was resting against the pillow - forcing him to lie down. “Alright, well.” You started, appreciating how Tsukki didn’t resist your actions. “You clearly need some rest, so I’ll be taking my leave.”

Tsukishima closed his eyes, taking off his glasses and placing them aside on the nurse’s desk - which was just the same as the student desks. “Bye, I guess.” He muttered, seeming as though he was already half asleep. 

A smile spread across your face at how peaceful the shithead looked when he was sleeping, you’d almost be able to mistake him for a cute lil’ megane rather than a shit-eating, smartass dinosaur lover. After you were done admiring your boyfriend, you swiftly turned on your heels and began to head out - until you were ordered to stop by Tsukki himself, “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” 

Your sweet smile quickly turned into a mischievous grin; you know exactly what he wanted but you wanted him to swallow his pride and ask you for it like a man. You peered over your shoulder and spoke in your most innocent voice, “What, my love?”

Tsukishima huffed, his gaze fixated on the ceiling and he was stubborn about it too. “Stop playing dumb and just come ‘ere.” He spat, annoyed at the fact that you chose today to start with your shenanigans.

You followed his command and skipping you away over to his side, not doing a good job of hiding the foolishly wide grin painting onto your face. “Alright, but I have no idea what you are on about, darling.” The over-use of pet names was also a dead giveaway that you were trying to mess with him. 

Once you were blocking his view of the ceiling, he made eye-contact with you - something that he knew always made you break but you just happened to be persistent today. He sighed in defeat, being way too tired to put up a fight with you right now. “Do I really have to?”

“This is the only time I’m ever going to hear you say it.” You whined, and Tsukishima had to give you that one - he was gonna die and be resurrected before he said the following again.

“Alright, then.” He mumbled, forcing down the smirk that was pulling at the edges of his lips. “(L/N). Kiss.” 

That was the least romantic way he could’ve put it - but beggars can’t be choosers. You leaned in and placed a light kiss upon his bottom lip; he placed his hand on the small of your back to ‘deepen the kiss’ but you resisted and pulled away, “No, Tsukki. We are not doing that in the nurse’s office.” 

“Good, cause I’m asleep. If you could kindly fuck off now.” 

“Love you!” You chirped, placing one final kiss on his cheek before twirled around, hurrying out the door. 

“Love you too.” 

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Hold Me, I’m Soft ~ Mammon x Reader

This is going to refer to the DevilGram story with Madi the Witch, because it didn’t sit right with me how Mammon got used and laughed at for being sexually assaulted, especially when I related to that in more ways then I’d want to admit, so there it is, a short little fic to give Monnie some love, especially since his birthday will be this week and I will be at the mountains, unable to actually post anything other than a Happy Birthday maybe.

Ever since she got to the Devildom, Y/N wondered to herself why in the world would the brothers bully Mammon so much, to the point that he’ll break down in tears when nobody is around?

He’s the most gentle of the brothers, yet he’s met with nothing more than taunts and mocking because of his greed. It’s not like he can help it, it’s his Avatar sin, he didn’t choose it. People get annoyed at Beel for eating too much and constantly raiding the fridge, for when he indulges in the pleasure of greed, he’s suddenly the scummy trash brother who’s just a waste of space. The family’s embarrassment.

But why should he be that, when he’s the only one who never gave in to his demonic power from rage? Never tried to attack or kill her and never got in his demon form to lash out at her?

Mammon was the first one to ever call her by her name and even give her nicknames. He was the first one to call her out to the cinema, concerts, shopping, pranking time, board games, card games, and even video games or just some quality time together.

He was the one to taught her how to be an undefeated Blackjack player and how to spot when someone is lying. He was the one to taught her how to flawlessly cheat in games and how to protect herself if something happened.

Even more, he was the one who graciously asked if she wanted to workout with him so she could be stronger and faster if anything were to happen and he wouldn’t be around, just like how it happened long ago, when Levi lost control and almost attacked her.

And, of course, he was the only one who constantly asked her if she was okay, if she was happy, if she needed anything. He would always pamper her whenever he thought she stopped smiling for one split second, or if he thinks she was faking it. He would grab TSL and some comfort food, hot chocolate with marshmallows and would cuddle her all night, playing with her hair.

It really pissed her off, but no matter what she did, and no matter how much she tried to make the others at least tone it down, of course, millennia of habits cannot be so easily tamed.

These were the constant thoughts that plagued Y/N’s mind, yet the white haired man will never know, because she is a girl of few words and many actions.

Today, however, as usual, was the time for some new shenanigans, as Lucifer and Satan must be the escorts of some powerful witch, as per Diavolo’s request, since he literally can’t stand her - And that speaks loads, when it comes to the benevolent Demon Prince.

“Hey, is it really gonna be okay to leave those two by themselves like that?” Mammon asked with a worried expression on his face. “Well, neither of them are saying anything...For now, at least.” Asmo held the same expression as his elder brother. “Yeah, you just KNOW that they’re going to blow up any minute. It’s so exciting!” Levi spoke with a chuckle. “Hey, why is it that you only ever come outta your room at times like this, Levi? I thought you were s’posed to be a shut-in.” Mammon raised his eyebrow at his little brother. “Well, this is Lucifer and Satan. They almost NEVER work together, much less when it’s just the two of them! I mean, if I’d missed an event like this, I’d regret it for the next 800 years.” Levi grinned, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Diavolo was pretty bold to make them work together, if you ask me.” Y/N muttered, crossing her arms and peeking through the door creak.

Saying that, the four of them leaned in the peek better and listen to their conversation.

“Be careful. If Maddi takes a liking to a man, she’ll bring him back home with her.” Lucifer smirked at his younger brother. “As if you need to remind me...I recall how Mammon went home with her that one time. Mammon must have regretted going with her, because by the time he got back, he was on the verge of tears. I remember it like it was yesterday!” Satan shook his head in disbelief, making the girl gasp, covering her mouth with her hands. “HEY! I wasn’t!” Mammon frowned at what he just heard, making Asmo shush him quickly so they won’t be heard. “I don’t even want to THINK about what must’ve happened between those two that night. I can’t understand what possessed Mammon to willingly go home with a woman that dangerous. It’s fortunate she didn’t trick him into making a pact with her while he was there in bed half-asleep.” the blond continued speaking, making the girl bite her lip from the shock and pain in her chest. “But there’s no doubt that Mammon didn’t have a good time, because for a while after he came back he had nightmares, and he’s moan in his sleep. He even stopped spending money left and right...MAMMON, of all demons. Still, Maddi IS attractive. She rivals the succubus who won the Queen Contest in terms of beauty. In fact, Maddi might be even MORE beautiful. I’m a little worried that you’ll end up like Mammon - That as soon as she uses her feminine wiles on you, you’ll fold like a paper airplane.” hearing that, she couldn’t stop herself and she fled the place, going to her room to regain herself, not giving anyone any explanation.

She already made up her mind that, despite being the middle of the day, she will skip both lunch and dinner, so changing in her pyjamas, she got in bed, cuddling the hellhound plushie Mammon got her, and wrapped herself in a tight cocoon with her blanket, not wanting to see the light of the day.

So many thoughts were swirling in her mind, each of them more and more degrading, overpowering one another, guilt taking over her completely.

She prided herself with being a ration person, she really did! She always put ration and logic over hindering emotions...But now...When she can overthink in peace...The ration she held completely dissipated, and here she was, crying her heart out once again.

Why WAS she crying for, anyway?

Was it because she felt Mammon’s pain at having being used like that, against his will, because he’s an innocent and peaceful push-over? 

Was it because she remembered what happened to her, and her heart started aching like crazy, and she began to spiral? 

Was it because she felt plain, ordinary and completely nothing special, when she heard Lucifer saying that Maddi is the most beautiful person in the world and that’s why Mammon was lured in by her?

Or was it the guilt of being affected by jealousy and self-hatred before the pain from what that vile woman did to him?

What the hell was going on through her head, anyway? She heard enough opinions about her and how terrible of a girlfriend she was, why should she even have any hope that Mammon would ever like her? And why the hell was she worrying about that, when she should be worrying about the poor demon?!

She’s really nothing more than a selfish jerk.

As if on cue, she heard the familiar sound of a received message on her D.D.D., and curiosity won over her self-deprecating sulking, and she checked it out, making her heart skip a few beats.

It was Monnie, and he was asking if she was okay and why she left.

Tears started brimming in her eyes, and letting out a few more sobs, she realised that, even thought he doesn’t romantically love her, he will always be her best friend, and she was at least content with that, no matter how selfish she is.

She quickly texted him, asking if it was okay if she came over later, for a sleepover, and of course, he agreed, so the girl put a cardigan over her so it wouldn’t be too obvious she was in her pyjamas - Not that it mattered, anyway - and got some snacks, made some hot chocolate and went to Mammon’s room, finding him in a tanktop and some large pants, playing some game on his phone.

“Took you long enough!” Mammon grinned, making room for her to join him. “What’s with that face? You stormed out of there, so somethin’ must’ve bothered ya. Come on, y’know you can tell me.” he got in a sitting position, looking at her with a concerned look, but was met with silence for a many seconds, in which he feared he must have said something wrong. “I, uh...I guess I got worried about you after what they said...But I didn’t have the best reaction...I needed some time to think things over. It was pretty selfish of me to do that, instead of talking to you first...But I guess I’ve always been pretty selfish, haven’t I?” she chuckled nervously, still standing up, next to the bed. “What the hell are ya on about? Is it about that Maddi thing? Forget it, it happened long ago, it doesn’t bother me anymore.” he shrugged, looking away for a split second, only to look back at her. “I...Don’t think you’re over it.” she bit her lip, looking down, sucking at her teeth to stop herself from sketching any gesture on her face. “What do ya know about that, anyway? Come on, shut up and put the movie on, I ain’t got all day!” he tried to make her stop talking already, but she wasn’t exactly paying attention. “I had a similar experience too and...When I heard what happened, flashes of what happened went in front of my eyes and I started panicking. That’s why I ran away.” she spoke, her eyes glossed and unfocused. “Is that why ya wanted to hang out?” Mammon muttered softly, seeing her slowly nod her head. “I never told anyone...And so, nobody was there to care about me. But you always cared about me...And I wanted to do the same, for once.” she gulped, blinking and putting everything on the nightstand next to his bed. “...Come’re, dummy.” he sighed, tugging on her hand and making her sit on his lap, as was their ritual whenever one of them needed comfort. “Did I upset you, Monnie?” she asked, barely audible, making him put his hands on her shoulders, so she could properly look at him. “What?! Upset me?! ‘Course not! I-I’m happy that you thought of me, okay? It’s just...Yeah, it wasn’t nice, duh, but I’m a demon. I can take many things. But you’re such a frail little human. You’re small, fragile and soft, and since nobody wanted to bother getting to know such a nice gal like you, then I will always be there for you.” he put his hands on her face, trying to reach through to her. “...I was supposed to comfort you...Why did it go the other way around...? I was supposed to make sure you okay, that you’re smiling and that you can manage to get over what happened in the past...I wanted to be the one you can count on, for once...But I’m failing even at that...That’s how much of a selfish jerk I am...You deserve better than me, Monnie.” she hung her head, resting her forehead on his shoulder, not realising her words made him stiff, and tears prickled at his eyes. “Shut up, dummy! You’re a dummy! Dummy! Dummy! Never say things like that okay, got it?! Listen, I-I care about you, okay? I don’t care if you manage to comfort me or not, I just care that you think about me, okay? You’re the only one that gives a damn about me, and I appreciate that, okay? You see part of yourself in me, and I see a part of myself in you, so of course I want to keep you safe.” Mammon sighed, holding the girl close to his chest, playing with her hair, as he always did. “Monnie...Can I tell you something?” she muttered. It was now or never. If he hated her, so be it, but at least he knows. “Of course ya can, dummy. You can tell me anythin’ you want.” he said with an encouraging chuckle. “I...Left because I felt guilty. Because...My first thoughts were creeping with jealousy, instead of worrying about you and what happened, first and foremost. My brain fails me big time. And I feel really bad, ‘cause you deserve much better than some idiot who gets jealous over someone vile like...Her.” she let a few tears fall down her face, but poor Mammon was lost in his own head.

Jealous? Why the hell would she be jealous? What could she be jealous of? What is going on even?

“Why would you be jealous of her? You’re better than she’ll ever be, in every way. What the hell is going on through that head of yours, Y/N?” he frowned, flicking her forehead, unsure of how to react. “You heard how Lucifer and Satan spoke about her...And they are Lucifer and Satan. They spoke only praises about her...A-And I didn’t want her to be around you. Y-You’re my first man, Monnie, please understand what I’m saying.” she hid her face with her hands, her bottom lip quivering from embarrassment and guilt. “O-Oh...Ya like me?! Like...Like-Like me?! For reals?!” his voice became so cheerful and hopeful, and as soon as he saw her nodding, he started laughing very happily, kissing her forehead and taking away her hands from her face, his grin bright and dazzling like the first sunshine of Spring. “Cool, ‘cause I love ya too! I was sure you liked one of my brothers, they ain’t as problematic as me, but you like me, your first man, and I couldn’t be happier!” he started kissing her all over her face, making her blush like a tomato. “Why wouldn’t I like you? You’re the best. You’re the only one who has been genuine with me since the very beginning and cared about me. And spending time with you always is always calming and...You always make me happy. I forgot what it’s like to be happy since that happened...But whenever my brain goes stupid and I start overthinking, you always manage to keep me grounded...And I really appreciate you for that.” Y/N spoke out, making Mammon’s eyes water, and with the ordinary greedy impulse he had, he grabbed her face and kissed her deeply, without even realising what in the world happened. “Don’t fluster me like that, Y/N...Actually, do, I love it, but I’m not used to it.” he chuckled nervously, making the girl smile softly. “Can I do anything to make you feel better about...The past?” she asked sheepishly, her hands hanging awkwardly, unsure of what to do with them. “Well...The hot chocolate is going to get cold...And there’s snacks to eat and  movies to binge-watch...” he trailed on, snaking his arms around her waist, making her put hers on his shoulders. “Also...I want to make sure you’re comfortable with me, okay? I dunno what happened to you, but if it’s similar to what happened to me, I want to promise you that I will never do anythin’ you’re not okay with. I pinky promise.” Mammon spoke in a more serious voice, yet just as gentle. “I know, Angel eyes. I trust you the most out of everyone in this world. And I can promise you the same thing.” she managed to give him a proper smile, throwing her arms around him, hugging him tightly, feeling the comforting warmth of his body.

That embrace alone felt, for the both of them, like the sole safe home they ever had, and there was nothing that could break this dream-like state they were in. There was no negativity and no bad thought going through their mind, as the warmth and love of the hug was enough to disperse of any pest lingering and purging their sanity.

When they finally got the courage to let go of each other, fearing that they would disappear from this serenity state, they cuddled together in bed, drinking the now room temperature hot chocolate, eating so many snacks that they resembled Beel, and watching TSL on the huge plasma TV on the wall.

“Monnie?” Y/N raised her head to look up at him, love and admiration obvious in her sparkling eyes. “Thank you for existing in my life. I know you go through great lengths to take care of your brothers and make sure they’re happy...And I know you get hurt a lot in the process...But I really appreciate everything you’re doing, both for me and for them. I’m sure they see it too, they’re just too stupidly proud to admit to themselves...As usual.” she chuckled, reaching to hold his hand and intertwine their fingers together. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re the best. I’m really happy you came to talk to me...And I’m really happy you’re here with me. I love you.”

[ellstersmash]

Can I prompt you for a little scene in which Theo makes some yummy food and takes the leftovers to share at work?

citrus and cinnamon and gratitude

Fandom: The Wayhaven Chronicles Pairing: Mason x Theo West (background) Rating: T for Teen (very mild sexual references) Words: 850 [Read on Ao3]

-

“You know this is why I love you, right?”

Theo looks up from her desk to see Tina leaning in the doorway, fingers and lips smeared carelessly with chocolate. Her chair squeaks in protest as she relaxes into it, folding her hands over her stomach.

“Really?” she asks. “You sure it's not because of my vibrant wit? Or my charming personality? Or my extraordinary ass?”

“Oh, those are all great qualities, for sure.” Tina's voice is gummed up, her words muffled, almost incoherent around a mouthful of rich fudge brownie. “But I would quite happily spend a beautiful, tender, passionate, unprecedented night with a plate of these bad boys.” She sucks frosting off her index finger, rolling her eyes back to exaggerate the point.

Theo blinks, mouth dropping open in mock offense. “But not this ass?”

“Sweetie, you and I both know that ass is spoken for, and your boyfriend scares the shit out of me.”

“Not my boyfriend,” Theo corrects with a finger in the air. “And nobody is ‘spoken for.’”

Douglas pops his head around the corner and wedges himself in past Tina, three brownies stacked on a napkin in one hand, a Wayhaven P. D. mug filled with something steaming in the other. “Morning, detective!”

“Wow, Douglas. Save some for the rest of us.”

In a display of impressive personal growth, he ignores Tina's snark and walks forward to set the mug on Theo's desk, twisting it so the handle is in her direction. At first, she squints at it, unable to tell if it's tea or very poorly brewed coffee, then a sweet, stimulating blend of citrus and cinnamon wafts toward her.

“Is…” Theo stares at the mug, then back up at Douglas. “Is that for me?”

“Yep.”

She lifts it to her nose and inhales gently, but deep. Her eyes drift closed as the hot steam curls into her senses, carrying with it the comforting scent of spice. A tentative sip and she clutches it to her chest.

“I checked earlier, and all we had left was mint!” she says. “Where the hell did you find this?”

Douglas can't hold back a self-conscious smile when he answers, “Haley sells it in the cafe.”

“You went out and bought it? For me?”

“Yeah, I—” He shifts nervously, eyes dropping to the napkin full of sweets in his hand. “It's not really a big deal. I mean, you're always bringing stuff in to share with everyone, and it's so nice of you. Just thought someone should return the favor.”

Tina gapes at him. “Ok, that's—”

“Incredibly sweet,” Theo finishes for her, well-aware Tina's comment was headed in a very different direction. “Thank you, Doug. I mean it.”

He beams at her, even through Tina's skeptical snort. The confused tint to his expression is understandable—she can't remember ever showing genuine gratitude toward him. For anything. Though, in her defense, he hasn't given her much reason to until lately.

Douglas settles into the chair opposite her desk. “So, um… Who's not your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, Mags.” Tina grins at Theo, a challenge glimmering in her eyes. “I, for one, would love to hear you answer that question.”

Theo glares at her. “I feed you. I employ you.”

“You absolutely do not.”

“And this blatant disrespect is the thanks I get?”

“Plus a mug of incredibly sweet tea,” Tina adds with a smirk.

“Don't you have a patrol to get to?” Theo snaps, folding her arms across her chest.

Tina glances over at the large analog clock above reception and sighs heavily, then blows Theo a kiss before gliding away. Through the glass, she offers a silent “Good luck,” complete with two thumbs up.

Theo glares at her some more, then softens her gaze before it slides resignedly back to Douglas, who is watching her and nibbling at one of his brownies. She opens her mouth in the hopes a clever, evasive, semi-honest answer will present itself, but none volunteer.

Luckily, in that moment, her eye is caught by the glare of sunlight on glass as the front doors open and the members of Unit Bravo file in. As they move her way, she takes another sip of her tea, then stands.

“Excuse me, Douglas.” She nods and he turns.

“Oh, sure. Right. Of course.”

He scrambles up and out of her office, greeting each of them in turn with wide eyes, and she's surprised to find he holds semi-steady when Mason wrinkles his nose at the napkin full of brownies on his way past.

“Detective West made them,” Douglas says, squaring his shoulders. The pride in his voice is touching. “They're super good! You should try one.”

Mason scoffs and shoves past him. “Not gonna happen.”

Douglas' face falls at the brush-off and he turns to go.

“Hey, Doug?” Theo navigates her now-crowded office, parting Felix and Adam to lean out the doorway. “Thank you. Again.”

He nods and brightens at the attention. “No problem.” Then he goes to tend the front desk, sitting straighter in his chair than she's ever seen him.

“Oh! You finally restocked the tea!” Nate exclaims from behind her, and Theo drops her head in a huff of laughter and swings around to play hostess.

[yikesharringrove]

@kumathecatalyst made my brain go bbbbbrbrrrrrrrrr

-

Billy let his head fall back, resting against the side of the house.

He had lost track of time in his drunken haze, and was an hour past curfew.

No way his dad would let him in.

He thought about finding some girl, convince her into letting him drive her home, into letting him stay the night.

In whatever capacity that means. Rumors will only help him here, help him blend in.

He gave himself until the end of his cigarette. Then he would head inside are start sniffing at chicks.

He knew that Vicki girl was watching him earlier, and he’s pretty sure Tina is the one throwing the party. Maybe he can sweet talk his way into her bedroom. It’s beat having to go anywhere.

He stared at the dwindling cigarette.

It was cold out, but Billy was still drunk enough that it felt nice. It was too hot inside, everyone tugging at him, pushing him around, trying to cling onto him.

He took a deep breath, was about to stub out the dying cig against the side of the house when he heard humming.

A tune that nearly made his heart stop.

Harrington came around the corner, stumbling, and very drunk, holding a red cup with one hand, his stupid sunglasses with the other.

He stopped for a second, looking down at his feet, taking a shaking breath.

“It’s a beautiful day in this neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor, would you be mine?” He laughed bitterly, pouring out his drink. He watched the spiked punch splatter in the grass at his feet. His eyes tracked up, landing on Billy as he clumsily sang, “could you be mine?”

“Mr. Rogers, huh?” Harrington just stared. “I like that show.”

“It’s good.” Steve was slurring, just a touch. “Mr. Rogers wants to be my friend. He says so. Every episode.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda the idea of the neighborhood.” 

“Wish I had a neighborhood.” Harrington threw his empty cup into the bushes.

“You do.”

“No, like, a Mr. Rogers kinda neighborhood. Where everyone was nice, and, and people liked me, and I had friends. Mr. Rogers is my only friend and he’s not even real.”

“He’s real.” Harrington huffed dramatically at Billy.

“But he lives in the t.v. He’s not here. He’s not real in my life. Or I’m not real in his.” He furrowed his brows, looked like he was getting confused.

It was cute.

And Billy suddenly realized he didn’t know Harrington’s first name.

That Tom kid just kept referring to him as Harrington.

“I’m Billy.”

“I know.” Billy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but I don’t know your name, Dumbass.” Harrington’s eyes went hollow. It was fucking creepy.

“It’s Steve. But Dumbass works too I guess.” Billy made a mental note never to call him dumbass again.

“Well, you know. Now that we know each other, we can be neighbors.” Steve’s face lit up slowly, like the words were sinking in one by one.

And then he threw himself at Billy, hugging him tightly around the middle.

And Billy realized, horrified, that Steve was sobbing into his neck.

Billy reached up, patting his back.

“Why don’t I take you home, Steve?” That was somehow the wrong thing to say, as Steve just started crying harder.

“No one takes care of me.”

“Whoa, who said anything about take care of? I was just gonna drop you off. Let your mom do all the heavy lifting.”

And then Steve’s legs seemed to give out under him.

“Mom’s not home. Never home.” A chill spread through Billy’s whole body.

“Is she, did she pass?”

“No. She just chooses not to be around me,” Steve wailed. Billy was very much in over his head.

But he may have found a place to sleep tonight.

And if Steve likes Mr. Rogers, he’s gotta have the channel at home.

Because that was the thing about moving to Hawkins. It meant leaving everything behind. Including, Mrs. Beverly down the street that let Billy come in and watch The Neighborhood with her.

She was old and kind, gave him cookies and turned a blind eye if he got choked up during an episode.

“Hey, Steve, just let me drive you home, okay?” Steve nodded into his neck.

Billy led him to his car parked far down the road. He didn’t want any assholes hitting it.

He had pounded some water before heading outside, and felt alright. Still a little hazy, but he’ll get them there in one piece.

Steve had calmed down some, just kinda had tears sliding down his face now, Which was better than his body wracking with harsh sobs.

He silently pointed at streets Billy was meant to turn down, and Billy, for once, drove slowly enough that it worked out.

Steve was still humming the theme song, his voice cracking every so often.

He pointed to a big house at the end of the street, and Billy pulled into the long drive way.

He glared at the huge fucking house. Steve made no move to get out of the car.

He was holding onto his seat belt, the car silent without his humming.

“Do you wanna come in?” His voice was tiny, like he already new the answer.

“Sure.” His head snapped up to look at Billy. Billy just killed the ignition and pulled himself out of the car.

He watched Steve, smile on his face, as he stumbled awkwardly out of the passenger seat, nearly falling over in the process.

Billy got one hand on his elbow as they walked to the front double doors.

“You wanna-I got Mr. Rogers on tape.” Steve was just holding his keys out for Billy.

There were only a few, one clearly a car key, so it was a matter of three different keys.

Steve seemed like he just didn’t wanna bother.

“I got a buncha episodes. We could watch one.”

“Sure, if you want.” Steve beamed at him. Billy just focused on getting the door open.

The second key worked and the heavy lock slid open.

Steve’s house was cold.

It was immaculately clean, like some kinda model home.

It looked like nobody lived in it.

Steve brought Billy through the entry hall to a door just off the kitchen leading into a basement.

This was better. The couch was worn and there was a blanket strewn on it like Steve had been curled up underneath it.

Billy realized this is probably where Steve spends most of his time in this empty house, the almost cozy television room downstairs.

There were shelves lined with tapes, all sorts of movies and neatly labeled television show recordings.

Steve had probably every episode of The Neighborhood in a section all on it’s own. Billy picked a random episode and hoped it wasn’t one guaranteed to make him cry.

He figured Steve’s breakdown was enough for one night.

Steve sang along to the theme song under his breath.

It was so damn cute.

He was slurring still, drunk and lazy, sitting low on the couch with the blanket pulled up to his chin.

It looked hand knit.

He had put some over Billy’s lap when he sat down.

The episode turned out to be fine.

For Billy that is.

It was an old one, one from about two years ago.

One about friendship.

And Steve seemed to be okay.

And then the story moved to the Neighborhood of Make-Believe.

The puppet people were on their way to a picnic at King Friday’s palace.

But Lady Aberlin was in a rush and forgot to get Daniel Tiger and bring him to the picnic.

And Daniel Tiger explained how hurt he felt, forgotten and left out by his friends. How they had fun without him and that made him feel bad.

And Steve was crying again.

“They, they just forgot Daniel-” Billy could barely make out what he was saying.

This was no pretty crying. This wasn’t a few dainty tears.

This was water covering Steve’s cheeks. This was snot and borderline hyperventilating.

And Billy has never felt more out of his depths.

“They don’t care about Daniel! They don’t love him!” Yeah, this was not about Daniel Tiger and the fucking picnic.

“Steve, of course they love Daniel. Lady Aberlin came back, and, and she apologized! Sometimes, you know, friends can just be shitty,” Billy offered. Steve wailed. There were tears dripping off his chin now.

“I wouldn’t know!”

“C’mon, man. Didn’t I say I was your friend?”

“You don’t even know me!”

“I’ve seen you fucking ugly cry three times tonight. I feel like I know you pretty well.” The episode was still playing, Mr. Rogers now explaining in that soft voice of his, that telling friends our feelings can help make us feel better. Billy pointed at the television. “Tell me your feelings! Mr. Rogers said it’ll help.”

“I, I, no one loves me. Nancy doesn’t love me, my old friends want fuckin’ nothing to do with me, and, and my parents don’t even like me, and I’m always left behind.”

“Wait, Nancy’s that girl, right? That Tom guy said you ditched him for her.”

“No. I ditched him because he was being a fucking asshole.”

“Them Steve, you kinda can’t complain that he wants nothing to do with you after you ditched him.”

“I tried to talk to him. Like, a month later. We were best friends since we were five, and it was one stupid fight, and I tried to talk it out, and he told me to go fuck myself.” Damn.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Steve had stopped crying by now, but his face was still wet. He was fucking covered in snot. Jesus Christ. “I tried. He just realized he was better off without me.”

“Or he was hurt and trying to protect his pride or some shit.” Steve deflated a bit.

“The Nancy thing is, that one’s real. She said she was just pretending. We’ve been together for a year. And I, I love her. And she’s just pretending.” Steve suddenly sat up, flipping the blanket down to let out his top half, scooting to sit against the armrest facing Billy.

The credits were rolling on the tape.

“Y’know, I offered to like, not go to college for her. I missed the early application deadline because my whole plan up until like two hours ago was to rot in this shitty fucking town for her. To settle down with her. To marry her. And she’s fucking pretending.” He finally wiped off his face. “I don’t even know what to do anymore. I fucking don’t.”

Billy didn’t either.

Well, he had a few suggestions, but you could always suck my cock, right here and now felt a little crass for the situation.

“You said early application. You’ve still got the regular deadlines.”

“I wanted to do early because Nancy had been helping me with my grades all fucking year. She helped me bring them up a lot last year and without her, man they’re gonna tank.”

“Nah. You got me now. I can give you a hand.”

Steve gave him a look, one eyebrow raised.

“What? I’m smarter than I look.”

“That’s not reassuring.” Billy reached out and slapped Steve’s arm. Steve pouted at him, rubbing the sore spot. “Owie.”

“Don’t fuckin’ say owie.”

“That hurt, Billy. What would Mr. Rogers say?”

“He’d agree you were being a pain in my ass.”

“Rude.”

Steve looked better. His eyes were a little bit brighter.

“So, Daniel Tiger. Did talking about your feelings help?”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he was smiling, just a teeny bit.

“Yeah, it did. Thanks, King Friday.”

“Oh, you better take that back! I am not King Friday.”

-

Here’s a clip from the episode they watch. It’s lowkey fucking brutal. (The clip is “Daniel Feels Forgotten” under the Daniel Striped Tiger section)

[morganaspendragonss]

if you’re still accepting prompt requests? # 26 with mateo & marjan please 🥺 NOBODY messes with probie on her watch

thank you! quick note just to avoid confusion - i was accepting prompts at the time this one came through, but for the moment they are now closed :)

26 -  “What happened to you? What did they say to you?” “Please don’t make me tell you.”

ao3 | 1.1k | 2.10 spoilers, vague references to racism

Worrying over Mateo is something Marjan has grown accustomed to over the past year of working together. He’s like a little brother to her - to all of them - and yeah, sure, she has become a little protective towards him. So, when she finds him frowning over his phone with a wounded look in his eyes in the middle of shift, Marjan doesn’t even think twice about it.

“What happened to you?” she asks, keeping her tone light so as not to startle him into clamming up. “What’s got you looking like a kicked puppy?”

Mateo shrugs, locking his phone and dropping it on the counter. “Nah, it’s nothing. Just, we’re trying to find another place - me and my roommates, I mean - and they’re kind of being dicks about it. It’s all cool, though, no biggie.”

He turns as if to leave, but Marjan catches his arm, his obviously fake nonchalant attitude knocking her concern up a notch. “Well, what did they say to you?”

“Nothing.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a terrible liar?”

“Am I really that obvious?” he asks, pouting. Marjan doesn’t bother responding, just raises her eyebrow at him, waiting. Mateo huffs and drops his gaze, seeming to curl in on himself all of a sudden. “Please don’t make me tell you.”

Marjan’s eyes widen. It’s hardly a stretch for her to imagine what sort of things Mateo’s roommates could have said to make him not want to repeat it; she has intimate experience with just how close-minded some people can be. She is a little surprised, she has to admit - though Mateo loves to complain about them, she’s never gotten the impression that they’re bigots - but rage is the overwhelming emotion at the moment.

“Mateo -”

“It’s not what you think,” he cuts in almost desperately, apparently figuring out where her mind has gone. “It’s not… It’s not that. I promise.”

When he doesn’t deem it necessary to elaborate, Marjan rolls her eyes, resting her elbows on the counter and leaning closer to him. “Well, what is it then?”

He sighs. “You know how you’re always telling me to stand up to them?”

Marjan nods.

“Well, I did that, and it blew up in my face.” He pauses, his mouth quirking up at the corners as he meets her eyes again. “Metaphorically, this time. I told them that when we found a new place, there’d be some ground rules. It’s not like I want to stop them from having fun, or whatever, but I draw the line at jam sessions at three in the morning when I’ve been on a 24-hour shift.”

She grins, lightly punching Mateo’s shoulder in pride. “Good for you!”

But her enthusiasm is firmly quenched when Mateo grimaces, turning to stare at the counter. “Yeah, I guess,” he mutters.

Marjan waits, not entirely sure how to comfort him. It would help if she knew what, exactly, is going on, but she doesn’t want to push too far. She doesn’t have to wait for long, however, as Mateo lets out a loud groan and scowls deeply at his phone.

“They’re just… They don’t get it! I don’t know what they think being a firefighter is like, but it’s not this, that’s for sure. A-And they think that just because I’m home less than them, it gives them more right to the house than me, and then they call me a party-pooper when I actually want to sleep. They’re making fun of me for trying to put some boundaries in place, but - and it’s not like I think this gives me any entitlement or anything - I saved their asses that night. If it weren’t for me, we’d all be toast right now -”

Mateo cuts himself off mid-rant, paling at the realisation of what could have happened. He takes one sharp breath, then another, and seems on the verge of hyperventilating when Marjan reaches over to steady him.

“Don’t think about that, alright?” she says, squeezing his forearm gently. “You did save them, and that more than entitles you to make whatever demands you want. Hell, you’d be allowed to ask even if your house hadn’t blown up. Don’t take this the wrong way, Probie, but how are you even friends with people like that?”

“We’re not that close,” he answers, shrugging. “I was friends with one of them from school, and the rest sort of just added on when we were looking for people to room with.”

Marjan nods, another thought occurring to her. “I thought you were staying with Paul, anyway.”

“Paul’s place doesn’t have a spare room. I sleep better there than I have done anywhere else, but that couch does not get comfier with use.” He sighs dramatically, turning a wan gaze upon Marjan. “I can’t go back to living with Cap. TK offered the second bedroom at his and Carlos’s place, but I said no.”

“Probably for the best.”

They share a grimace; pretty much the entire firehouse knows exactly what TK and Carlos get up to behind closed doors by now, courtesy of privacy being almost non-existent here. Plus, neither of them seem to care about keeping their private life actually private, judging by the marks that show up in places TK doesn’t have a hope of covering up.

Marjan shakes her head, banishing the thoughts from her mind. “You could come stay with me,” she offers. “My place does have a spare room and I’ve been thinking about finding someone to split the rent with.”

Mateo’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“Yeah. Austin might be cheaper than some places, but -”

She’s cut off by Mateo launching himself towards her, dragging her into an over-enthusiastic hug. When she’s recovered from the shock, Marjan laughs, hugging him back.

“Thank you,” he mumbles into her neck. He pulls away suddenly, looking at her earnestly. “I’ll be the best roommate, I promise, I won’t bother you at all and - and I’ll make sure to pull my weight, you’ll see -”

“Mateo!” Marjan laughs, shaking her head. “You’re damn right you’re gonna pull your weight, but don’t stress about it. I’m not a monster, you know.”

He flushes, twisting his hands together in embarrassment. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… This is really nice of you, Marjan.”

She smirks. “Don’t you forget it.”

Then, she turns and heads for the bunkroom, Mateo shouting another thanks at her retreating back. She shakes her head, but can’t stop the fond smile that creeps onto her lips - though, if anyone were to ask, she’d deny its very existence. 

Can’t have anyone think she’s going soft, after all.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Long & Lost

Pairing: Leone Abbacchio x Reader

Warnings: yandere-ish Abbacchio, obsession, stalking, mentions of violence, allusion to kidnapping and forced marriage.

Words: 5445.

Summary: You needed to call him, you told yourself firmly and grabbed the phone, trying to stay determined. You needed to at least figure out if Abbacchio were alive and well. In the end, nobody forced you to tell him he had a son in that very moment, right? You'd tell him if he proved he deserved to know.

_______________________

Holding a crumpled piece of paper with Libeccio's number on it in your hand, you looked at the phone in front of you and sighed, unsure what to do. You'd heard Abbacchio was seen in that restaurant multiple times, so there really was a chance of you finally finding him, but you didn't know if you needed it that desperately. You knew what he had been through, and you doubted there was anything left of the man you loved once. But then you glanced at the photo of you little son on your desk and thought that your child deserved to have a chance to know his father - that is, if Leone would be willing to see his own child. Otherwise you'd have to come up with some sad story of your lovely boyfriend dying before he could get to know his son just like your mother advised you multiple times.

You little boy Dante was two years old now, and despite all the hardships related to raising him on your own, Dante still was your joy and pride. You realized you were pregnant almost right after Leone broke up with you: that time you were just a student with little to no means of support, and it hit you hard but you decided to keep your child, nevertheless. You couldn't bring yourself to get rid of him, and now you were thankful to that innocent young girl for the decision she made. Dante was your world.

But the older he got, the more you thought what would happen when one day he would ask you where's his dad. All children have a dad, haven't they? Then he should have one, too. You feared that moment, knowing you barely could tell your son the truth: your father doesn't even know about your existence.

By the time you decided to keep your child, Abbacchio already got himself in troubles, getting mixed up with some street thugs. You heard his partner even died because Leone couldn't pull the trigger, afraid those thugs gonna report him to police. Was it all true? You wanted to know it so desperately you went to see him in a detention facility, but Abbacchio you met weren't his old self. He was just a shadow of a man he'd been once, and despite all your efforts he remained broken, silently awaiting for the court to give him the punishment he deserved. You realized you were going to raise your child all alone, but it didn't deter you. In fact, when Leone finally got out, you even tried contacting him again and sending him some money until he figured things out. Of course, when you found out he spent all those money on cheap wine, you stopped doing it - your baby needed you more than him. After that you dropped all your attempts to keep in contact with the father of your child, and he had never learnt about Dante. It's for the best, your mother were telling you over and over again. A child doesn't need a dad who can't take care of himself, less of his family. Besides, was Abbacchio even as good as you imagined him to be? He was as corrupted as all those cops he hated so much while being in a police academy, your mother reminded you. Maybe she was right.

Dropping out of school to provide for your son, you had been through six kinds of hell in the last three years. There wasn't a job you hadn't done: scrubbing floors, delivering pizza, running errands for wealthy families, selling flowers and cheap makeup... and on top of it you had to take care of your child having no knowledge how to do it properly. Thankfully, your mother was there to give you a hand, and you were grateful for her help even if she had been scolding all the time for ruining your life so early. Did you know how hard it would be for you to get married, she asked you all the time while you were getting home late at night, tired to death. Do you realize people are calling you rotten behind your back because your son has no father, she kept saying over and over again trying to make you guilty, but you learnt not to listen. What's done is done. Who cares what people say if they will find a reason to humiliate you one way or the other?

You kept working, changing jobs and slowly getting a better salary, finding yourself a better place: you were now working as a manager in a candy store, its owners a nice married couple old enough to be your grandparents. You earned enough to live decently, and now you could afford buying your son new clothes instead of asking your friends and acquaintances for something their own kids and brothers wore once. Signora Russo, the one who was in charge of the store, treated you kindly, ready to give you some time off if Dante needed to be taken to doctor or somewhere else important. You also worked close to home, and if anything happened you could always storm off, telling the store clerk you'd be gone for a half an hour or so.

Life was good to you, you thought, your baby's bright smile making you feel much better in an instant. Dante had Leone's eyes, his hair of the very same shade.

You needed to call him, you told yourself firmly and grabbed the phone, trying to stay determined. You needed to at least figure out if Abbacchio were alive and well. In the end, nobody forced you to tell him he had a son in that very moment, right? You'd tell him if he proved he deserved to know.

"I'm looking for Leone Abbacchio." You said to the man on the other end of that phone, shivering from the thought you might really hear him the next minute. Shit, you really hoped he wasn't there.

"What is your name, Signora?" The stranger asked politely, and you were ready to drop the phone and run to the other room where your son was already laying asleep in his tiny bed,

Clenching your teeth, you told the man your name. Was Abbacchio really there? You ended up chewing phone's wire, that's how nervous you were, thinking what you were going to say and how he might react. Was he still bitter? Did he finally sort things out for himself? Did he stopped drinking? Was he going to accuse of not supporting him during his worst years?

"He is coming, Signora." The stranger told you calmly, and you felt your heart dropping somewhere to your stomach. Dio Mio, Leone was there. Those rumors were true, he was really there!

But before you mentally prepared yourself, you heard his low voice on the other side of the phone, his tone icy cold as if he wanted to never hear from you again. "Abbacchio."

You slowly got down on your chair with your palm rubbing your forehead tiredly. It seemed he was that very same Abbacchio who walked out the prison a couple of years ago, just a bit more sober this time. Funny, you thought things had changed for him, didn't you? You believed in people too much, that's what both your mother and Signora Russo would say, exchanging glances.

"Hi." You told him quietly, your eyes on the framed photo of your smiling son. "Haven't heard from you for a long time, Leone."

He let out a sound of irritation you knew a little too well, and you're very much aware he thought you're a traitor who left him behind when it had been him who broke up with you years ago. That was his problem, thinking people around had always owned him something, easily forgetting all the good things that were done for him once. You realized you were thinking about the same prior to a break up, wondering if your relationships were going to last if Abbacchio was going to behave the same way.

"What do you want? I don't have much time for you." He snorted, and despite you being so far from him during all that time, it still hurt so bad you clenched the phone in your hand, your eyes almost swelling with tears at his words. Did he felt better hurting you? You bet he did, having his revenge over someone who had nothing to do with him choosing his path. "Bucciarati's waiting for me, so be quick."

Bucciarati. He was referring to the man who had been seen with him, but you hoped it was just a rumor, too. You were well aware who Bucciarati was: all delivery guys and girls knew him and many other men with whom you shouldn't get mixed up. Passione was a power to reckon with even if you were talking about some low profile gangster who just got into a gang.

So, all those rumors were true. Abbacchio changed his side completely and joined mafia just like many other broken men before him. The next moment you realized how futile were your attempts to unite what you called a family in your dreams: were you really trying to let your child meet his father, a damn criminal who was probably murdering other people? Selling drugs? Beating the shit out of Passione's debtors? That was the man you wanted to entrust your beloved child?

"Sorry for bother." You said calmly, letting out a phone's wire you were getting close to torn into pieces. "I just wanted to know how you were."

"I'm good. Thanks for your concern." The man said before hanging up, and you staid frozen in your chair, listening to a dial tone. You were both sad and relieved at the same time, thinking how you had just saved your boy from so many troubles that would definitely arise if Leone knew he had a son. No, Dante didn't deserve a father like this. It wasn't his fault Abbacchio was long gone, and you weren't gonna spoil your child's life even if people would continue whispering your son was someone's bastard.

__________________

You didn't know the man got suspicious after your call, thinking you were up to something: he thought as low of you as of anyone he met prior to his encounter with Bucciarati. In Abbacchio's mind you all had betrayed him when he needed you the most, quickly disregarding your attempts to help him stay afloat with little money you had been sending him. Being extremely bitter, he felt the urge to dig up something about you, hoping you were in such deep shit you needed a help of a man like him. He was sure you were well-aware of his change of occupation, and it brought him a twisted satisfaction thinking of you whoring to him for his help. The only thing he found odd was that you didn't voice your plea. Did you get so scared of him you decided not to ask him for a favor? Abbacchio desperately wanted to know.

Finding out where you worked was an easy thing, and soon Abbacchio knew who you were now and how much you earned. It surprised him that you worked in a candy store: Leone remembered you were preparing to become a teacher. Did you drop out of university? He discovered you did. It was odd to him, remembering how eager you were to study. Why?

He found out the reason when he saw you walking with your baby boy during the weekend, Dante's tiny arm in yours as he was hurrying to the toy store window, then pressing his palms to the glace and watching a beautiful red toy train moving behind the window. The boy had his hair and his eyes. It wasn't hard to realize whose son that cheerful little boy was.

Abbacchio admitted with shame he wasn't prepared to it, quickly getting away as far as he could as if he couldn't look at the face of his own child. He had never thought something like that was possible: him? Being a father? Sure, Abbacchio wasn't a virgin, but the thought of someone having his child had never crossed his mind. At first he even tried thinking the child couldn't be his: how old the boy was? Wasn't he too young to be his son? By the time he was born Abbacchio had already been imprisoned.

"Doesn't mean she couldn't get pregnant while we still dated." He thought with shame, finding out Dante's birth date and realizing it was very much the reality.

Besides, his boy looked so much like him it was silly to pretend Dante wasn't Abbacchio's son. A part of him instantly got enraged with your decision to raise the boy on your own, not even letting his father know about his existence, but the man quickly cooled down, perfectly understanding why a drunkard he was then wouldn't make a good parent. You did nothing wrong. You even sent him money while you needed them much more than him.

Abbacchio still couldn't understand why you didn't abort an illegitimate child you weren't ready to bring up on your own - he wouldn't judge you if you did. You had been so young, almost a child yourself, barely able to take care of your own life while you had to provide for your son now. Your family wasn't rich, and he could imagine how much you struggled to stay afloat. Still, you kept your baby, your little boy you had been taking such a good care of: Abbacchio spied on you, stalking you while you walked with Dante or played outside, watching through your windows how you cooked and read him fairytales and tucked him to sleep. You were a good mother.

When Leone thought the only reason you called him was to let him know he had a son, he was ready to bang his head against a concrete wall. He knew why you ended up keeping quiet: he failed the test, talking to you as if he hated you to death and then mentioning Bucciarati's name. Bruno had been well-known in your area, and now you knew Abbacchio became a gangster. No mother would entrust her child to someone like him, and it had been his fault all alone, he realized that.

But he just couldn't leave you and his child without even acknowledging he knew he had a son. Even if Abbacchio wouldn't be the best father, he could still try his best: after Giorno became the next Don, he made Bucciarati's gang his own Unità Speciale, and Abbacchio was now a respected member of Passione with a fat wallet. With his help you could afford much more, moving to a more comfortable place, having better food and clothes, getting Dante to a better school once he grew up a bit. In the end, Leone could protect the both of you much better than you, just a simple woman who had to raise her son in a city full of criminals. He wasn't a drunkard with no goal but to drown out his day anymore.

That's why one day he showed up near the building where you lived, watching your mother taking her grandson and leading him to the apartment where you all lived while you hurried to the store to buy some food. He barely stopped himself from calling your mother, eager to take his boy in his hands, see his smile and chubby cheeks, ruffle his light grey hair and hear him laughing. No, Leone had to talk to you first, and it wasn't going to be easy.

Once you came back, a grocery bag in your hand, your face tired, he was waiting for you near a bench, and you flinched upon seeing him, your eyes getting wide. You surely didn't expect him to be there, least to give you something that almost looked like a smile.

Oh, you had a bad feeling about all that. Your hateful ex wouldn't just show up for no reason, you knew.

"Hello." He said surprisingly politely, and you started nervously chewing your lips. What did he want?

"Hello, Leone." You tried to keep your tone neutral to appear calm. "Good to see you looking well. Sorry, I'm in a rush, let's talk some other time."

Continuing to walk, you did your best passing him to hide in the hall of the building where you lived, but no one could brush off Abbacchio easily.

"I know." He said loudly as if he were afraid you would disappear before talking to him, almost ready to grab your arm but staying on his place when you stopped. "I know about him. About my son."

"He is my son." You roared like a lion, your hands clenched into fists when you turned your head to your former lover, but instead of getting intimidated or irritated the man felt proud: you were the best mother for his child Abbacchio could wish for.

"Of course."

There was no threat in his voice, and you relaxed a little, taking a deep breath and coming closer to the man still waiting for you near the bench. You didn't want to start a war, not with a man of Passione, unless Leone was going to take Dante away from you. You had to figure out what Abbacchio wanted.

"I haven't come here to steal the boy from you." He said, and you exhaled loudly, your palms shaking lightly. "I know you're a good mother."

You wanted to feel relieved, but something on the back of your mind told you Abbacchio wasn't there to compliment you and go away. He wanted something. What? Even if he knew you gave birth to his child, he had little to do with him now.

"I am." You admitted, unwilling to pretend to be polite anymore and hoping you'd get things sorted out before your mother started worrying about you. "Leone, what do you want?"

Your voice sounded harsh, and the man straigthen his back, getting closer to you: Abbacchio knew it wasn't going to be easy, but it wasn't your fault you wanted your child to be safe, thinking his father was a threat to him. It was up to Abbacchio to prove you he wasn't, eager to keep his boy safe and sound.

"Please, let me see him." He asked you, and you heard a plea in his voice. You couldn't remember when was the last time it happened. "I know what you think of me, and you're right about many things, but I want my child to know me."

"And what is he going to do with this knowledge?" You narrowed your eyes at your ex-boyfriend, rage boiling deep inside your chest. "What's it to Dante?"

"I will take care of him. And you."

Smirking, you shook your head, unable to believe him. Look, that son of a bitch was being so sweet to you now, pretending like meddling with his son's life wasn't a question of his enormous ego, that's what you thought. Did he really imagine you'd let him get close to Dante after you found out who he became?

"We don't need your help, thank you very much." You snorted, your fists clenched so tight it hurt you, nails digging into the skin.

"Then why did you call?"

Your eyes were getting wet as you chewed your lips to pieces, eating your lipstick and trying not to show the man your crying face. Abbacchio didn't deserve to see you like this. Of course, you shouldn't have called him. You desire to make things right only brought you more problems, as usual. It was even worse since now it concerned not only you but your baby, too. Dio Mio, why did you do it? Why did you try to talk to Abbacchio before finding out what he was doing now?

"To see if you got better." You said sarcastically, shaking your head in disbelief. "I thought I might tell you that you have a son, you know, if you sorted things out for yourself."

"I did." His voice sounded louder again when the man was getting emotional, both desperation and anger on his face. "I don't have an issue with drinking anymore. I don't even remember the last time I got drunk."

Taking a step back when he was dangerously close to you, you snorted, "Yeah, you just kill people now. Being a mafia's guard dog is so much better than being an alcoholic."

You could see Abbacchio getting furious, but you couldn't back down now when he was obviously determined to meet Dante despite all your warnings. Had he thought what it meant to be a son of a gangster? Did he imagine what his boy would have to go through just because his father belonged with Passione? You didn't care about his money or what Leone could give you, you were able to provide for Dante yourself. You couldn't, however, protect him against criminals who would come after him and you to have their revenge against Abbacchio. You'd have to watch your back all the time, but they would find a way to get to you, you were sure of it. Why didn't Abbacchio think about that? Was he so full of himself he thought he could protect your son at all costs?

Of course, it was his enormous ego again.

"I'm not gonna pretend my job has nothing to do with murder, but I'm not some Passione soldato anymore. I work directly for the new Don, and nobody gonna touch you and Dante once people know."

"Leone, please stop. I watched two delivery guys getting shot by men of Passione." You could barely hold your tears. "Don't you tell me my boy will grow up knowing that's what his dad is doing for life. Leave him alone for his own good! Let me give him a story about his policeman father getting fatally shot while on duty, and he will know his father was a hero."

Watching your eyes swelling with tears, the man in front of let out a sigh: he still couldn't watch you cry despite spending years apart. He fought the urge to come closer and touch your cheek, offering you some comfort, but he realized you would brush him off, not wanting the long lost intimacy. You weren't his beloved. Funny enough, he broke up with you himself, although now Abbacchio couldn't even remember why.

"He can have a true father instead of some fake legend." The man whispered, watching tears finally streaming down your cheeks.

"Give him a privilege to stay far away from this filth." Even though you kept wiping your face with the back of your palm, tears didn't stop falling, leaving dark spots on your pretty blue blouse. "Please, Leone. We both pay our experiences on our skin, but he isn't at fault just because he was born to us. Please... give him a chance to become a good man."

Abbacchio realized he wasn't able to get his way with you after what you had said. He just couldn't, knowing you were right. His son didn't deserve this.

_____________________

From that day he left you alone just as he had promised. Sometimes you got gifts with no notes, but you didn't need them, knowing where they came from: Abbacchio sent Dante expensive toys, the first one being that very same red train your boy wanted so much; then there were clothes, pretty little shoes, once you even got a new bed for him. Some stuff was for you, like that box of chocolate you loved once or a pair of golden earrings you had never worn. You wished he didn't send you anything at all, but receiving gifts from time to time was still better than having Leone at your door, willing to take your son away from you. Anyway, it wasn't Abbacchio himself delivering those things. No one was gonna make a hustle over something so inconsiderable, that's what you thought.

Silly you, thinking his enemies were stupid enough they couldn't trace those little gifts Leone had been sending someone over and over again. It was so much out of his character it was obvious the person had been important to him, and once they found out it was a young woman with a child who looked so much like him, it wasn't a secret anymore.

As the days passed, nothing changing in your life drastically, you had finally relaxed, thinking of taking a vacation and leaving the town for a week or two; your mother would certainly appreciated it after all this time. You were walking down the street with Dante's hand in yours when it all happened, a large white van stopping near you, a man getting out of it so quickly you had no time to react, looking at the gun he was covering with a newspaper.

"Get in there." The stranger growled, his eyes darting towards your baby boy. "Him too."

Freezing at your spot, you grabbed Dante's hand so hard he was going to cry, watching you and some man he didn't recognize staring at each other intensely. You wanted to shout, yell loudly so the whole street would hear you, but you were staring at the black gun's muzzle, and everything inside you got cold from the thought that man would shoot without a second thought, throwing your child inside the van once he'd be done with you. You certainly weren't immortal to withstand a few bullets from such distance.

You got inside without a word, holding Dante in your hands and trying to see in the darkness: the van had no windows on the back, and everything there was pitch black. It didn't matter, though, as once you turned up inside somebody had injected a syringe deep into your neck, and the world turned black in a couple of seconds, your baby's scream ringing in your ears.

Your poor little boy. You knew one day it would happen to him even if Abbacchio stayed away from the two of you.

By the time you woke up in some unknown place on a large, comfortable bed, it had already been late night, the moon shining bright in the night sky. You tried getting up immediately, but the dull headache made you groan and almost fell down the floor before somebody's strong arms caught you, carefully placing you back on the bed. You saw Abbacchio's worried face inches from yours, his brows furrowed as he watched you, afraid you might be in pain.

"Are you alright?" He managed to say, but you didn't bother answering him, your hand grabbing his as you tried getting up again only to be pressed into bed.

"Where's Dante?" Your voice sounded hoarse. "Where's he?!"

You remembered what had happened even despite that headache: a street, a van, the man with a gun wrapped in a newspaper, the lack of light on the backseat. Somebody had kidnapped your son and you, and nothing was making you go more mad than the absence of your baby, probably brought God knew where by the criminals. Shit, what had they done to him?!

"Calm down." Abbacchio's voice was both caring and strict as he clenched your wrists, pinning you to bed. "You will wake him up if you scream."

"Is he here? Is he here?" You kept asking, your body shaking from the thought Dante could be severely injured.

"Yes, he's safe. Nobody touched one hair on his head." Carefully helping you sit on the bed, Abbacchio pulled you to him, letting you rest your head on his half-naked chest, his skin becoming damp from tears streaming down your face: you were in deep shock, shivering, unable to pull yourself together, but nobody could blame you. "Narancia's with him now in the room next to ours. He's perfectly alright."

You couldn't utter a word, crying so hard and wrapping your arms around Leone as if you were drowning in the sea, and he was your lifeline. You needed him so desperately you couldn't let him go for a couple of minutes, weeping quietly against his chest. When was the last time it happened? Abbacchio couldn't remember, but the feeling of you needing him awoken something in the man, something he had long forgotten. Leaving a soft kiss on your forehead, he snuggled you closer to him, whispering words of comfort into your ear as if you were a little girl, and then started gently stroking your back.

He missed it. He missed somebody's warmth as much as you missed it, too, but you had your dear boy, and Abbacchio had no one. Of course, he would die for Bucciarati, and the gang became like a family to him, but a having a family with you was something much, much different. Waking up next to you, snoring lightly in your sleep as you hug your pillow, and nuzzling against your soft, warm body until your boy wakes up the two of you, and you hurry to feed him while Abbacchio is helping him dress. He would let Dante sit on his shoulders while all of you walk, and you'd laugh, watching the man nag when the baby was going to grab his hair too tightly.

He'd see his boy growing up, always there to give him a hand when he needed it the most, and help you to take all that weight from your shoulders you had been carrying for years. You didn't deserve living like this, struggling to raise Dante on your own just because you happened to get pregnant from a useless man like Abbacchio. He wouldn't make you go through all this alone when he was perfectly capable of taking care of both you and his son.

Especially now when you had been attacked so suddenly, and if he wouldn't be close, stalking you like he always did week after week, Leone was afraid to think what would happen.

"You're safe, principessa." He muttered, leaving on more kiss on the top your head, and you smiled weakly: you still remembered him calling you like that when you two still dated. "And Dante's too. I will ask Narancia to bring him to you if you promise to be quiet. It's very hard to make your baby sleep, you know that?"

You chuckled at his attempt to humor you, trying to wipe the tears away. "That's because he has your genes, and you're stubborn like a mule."

"Very much so." Abbacchio chuckled, too, and carefully stood up, motioning you to keep quiet as you stared at him nervously.

When he returned with Narancia gently cradling your boy in his arms, you covered your mouth with your palm, instantly getting of the bed and watching your baby sleep soundly - the guy holding him looked like a baby, too, but you admitted how careful he was with Dante, humming something quietly to keep the boy asleep. Although you wanted to take Dante in your arms, you knew you risked waking him up, and he certainly didn't need more stress after today's events. Nodding to Narancia and mouthing him thank you, you returned to sit on the bed, waiting for Abbacchio. He came back right after closing the door after the guy carrying Dante.

"Thank you." You mumbled, your eyes puffy from crying and rubbing them, your eyes looking down. "Thank you so much for saving him."

"What are you saying?' The man landed next to you and enveloped you in a hug, letting your head rest on his shoulder. "You are my family. I won't ever abandon you."

No, he wouldn't. Soon enough he'd convince you that living on your own was no longer an option, and after you'd move in he would find a way to convince you to marry him, giving both you and his son the family you deserved. He was sure neither Giorno nor Bruno would be against it as both of them were going to get married, too, and they could understand what it meant to take care of their loved ones. Abbacchio would keep you safe, ready to provide you with everything you needed so you wouldn't have to worry about working or spending your time elsewhere but home.

Abbacchio would give his son a chance to become a good man, but he didn't need to become a shadow from his son's past. He had a family to take care of, the ones who needed him much more than anyone else ever did.

[tapefish]

Initiation

@tasteofamnesia

Ghoul

You think a good third of the zones would leap at the opportunity to sew your mouth shut but this one looks more angry than anything. And while you’re normally against people rounding up on you with needles, the past half hour has left you down one hand and the better half of your face. You are in no position to argue. They’re griping about something or another and pretty sure they just referred to you as fungal (really?) somewhere in there and you’d correct them but air and blood is busy burbling out the new gash in your face. Try and stop the bleeding with a sleeve but your hands keep getting batted away with a curse and an even sharper look. Maybe venom siblings is not just some zone given title after all.

You let your mind drift to distract yourself from the pain, Party Poison’s angry mutterings are entertaining and all but it’s hard to pay attention when half your face is gaping open. Going up to the fabulous killjoys and asking where the sign up sheet was, you weren’t expecting a warm welcome- or any kind of welcome really. But you also weren’t expecting Jet Star to point you in the direction of The Kobra Kid of all people without so much as a ‘good luck’. It’s not like you haven’t fought people stronger than you. Or smarter. Or taller. Hell, practically every crew you’ve ever inconvenienced has had the pleasure (and the advantage).

Without warning the side of your face lights up and everything blinks out.

Party

You’re trying your best to sterilize the wound- Jet won’t miss his stash too much and you dare him to raise an objection- when an elbow shoots out, barely missing your jaw. The kid’s thrashing now, knocking what’s left of the alcohol to the ground and scratching at the wound. How are you supposed to work with this? Sure, just deal with the aftermath of yet another great plan from our fearless leader. Get the new guy to fight Kobra, declare them winner and leave them to bleed out on the floor. Real fucking smart. What, was Jet expecting the kid to sew up their own face? Where were they even going with this, just tossing over the med kit and wandering back to the am? As if having to physically pry Kobra off of- what’s their name-wasn’t enough now you gotta fix his mistake. Both their mistakes. Really you don't see why you aren’t the leader, you’re already picking up after everybody.

Whatever. The time for self pity has passed, and that’s enough of that. Grab them by the arms and hold them still for fuck’s sake before they make things any worse.

Threading the needle is easy enough, you’ve done it plenty and while the wound seems intimidating, closer inspection reveals that it’s not a bad cut, just in a weird place. As if to make up for sitting still, the kid has decided that now is the time for small talk. Swear to the witch it’s like they don’t want it stitched up. Watching them attempt to speak and stretching the wound in the process, you have half a mind to quit right there and let it heal all lopsided. Whatever they’re trying to say- all it’s really doing is depositing more blood and spit and- fuck is that a tooth? On your already sweaty hands. Gross. Well, it won’t get any cleaner than this so you get to work. They seem to catch on pretty quickly, and clam up right as you start the first stitch.

While you’re busy trying to line up the edges, the kid is scratching lazy lines into the dust around you. The first is a set of letters: FUNGHOUL followed by an x’d out face. Almost as an afterthought, they scribble a set of stitches across the smile. The irony of it isn’t lost upon you, and a snicker escapes before you can stop yourself. After tying off the last suture, take a moment to judge your work. You’re no medic so it's not pretty, but all things considered, it could be much worse. Catch yourself absentmindedly rubbing at the fading scars on your left hand. Like you said, you’re no medic.

You’d think the first coherent thing out of their mouth would be gratitude, a semblance of a thank you perhaps, but no. They just had to get one last bit of stupid out of their system. “So, does shades over there greet everyone like this or am I just special?” Snap the medkit shut and spit a “what’s it to you” hoping they get the message and witch- where is kobra?

Kobra

Look at them, laughing away as if nothing just happened. And it’s at you you’re sure, what else would there be to laugh at? The Kobra Kid, declared loser of a fight against some fresh faced nobody. A fight that you won but is gonna cost you everything because that new kid- what was their name? ghost or goblin or something stupid like that decided they were too good for the rules of engagement? You were doing fine! Pinned them down twice with only a handful of sand to the eyes for your troubles. It was pure luck that placed them so close to the bonfire, with all that smoke, it's not like you could see. Reached into it and knocked you off balance, enough to squirm out of your grasp again.

Did Party really think calling out would make you think they cared? Their actions speak for themselves- spending time tending to pintsize over there instead of their own brother. Little shit thinks they could just march up to camp and demand a spot that you earned. What’d they think? They’d get you kicked out? Take your place? Shake your head at the thought and focus on the task at hand.

Tending to your burn is hard and water is sparse, your hands are shaking as you peel off layer after layer from your neck - your hands never shake. You have to get it off though or else it's going to scar. And parallels be damned, you are not keeping a reminder of tonight if you have any say in it.

It wouldn’t have even registered when they hit you if it weren’t for the smell. Acrid and chemical, you get the feeling it won’t be leaving any time soon. Pour water on your neck and peel off the layers, until the last of it finally comes off with a gasp. You can actually feel it now, pulsating and radiating heat. Water alleviates it for a bit but you don’t have much of it to spare.

The thought crosses your mind to check the burn over in the trans am’s mirrors, see how bad it is, but it’s been taken over by Jet. Look back at your sibling siding with the new kid. Acting like you’re the one at fault here when really, why couldn't they just admit that you won? And why wouldn't Jet acknowledge that? With everyone around you forgetting that tiny, tiny fact you had to pull something that would stick. Running their mouth the whole time, forgetting that it's them that's trying to join your crew, laughing like the whole thing’s just one big joke to them.

To make things worse, Party barging in and intervening in your fight, like you’re some sort of kid back in the lobby, as if you haven't done worse things to nicer people with less than your reputation at stake. You know, you didn't really consider yourself a prideful person before this. Guess you really are Party’s brother. Go back to camp, ignore Party’s million where were you, what were you thinking, are you even listening to me’s, and work on your bike. Because for all their questions, they haven’t looked you in the eyes once.

[lizzy-williams]

𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝟷: 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎

🎃⌒👹⌒🎃⌒👹⌒🎃⌒👹⌒🎃

��𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝 (𝚍𝚞𝚑), 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎

kinktober masterlist

𝘎𝘰𝘥𝘴 & 𝘔𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘋𝘦𝘭 𝘙𝘦𝘺

𝑰𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒕... 

 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒂 𝑫𝒆𝒍 𝑹𝒆𝒚, 𝑮𝒐𝒅𝒔 & 𝑴𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Your lips were intertwined in a passionate kiss, his hands traveling down your body, squeezing and pinching where ever he pleased. 

Normally, you would slap his hands away. Colson was your best friend. But after the movie you two were watching had ended, and you locked lips unexpectedly, you didn’t stop him. 

Sure, there were lingering touches here and there. But now that your lips were locked together, you didn’t ever want it to end. 

Even when his caloused fingers found their way under your shirt, you didn’t dare pull away. You felt the pull grow stronger, the need for him growing. You didn’t think you had ever wanted anything more in your entire life. 

Once he groped your breasts under your bra, your head instinctively flew back. He let a primal growl fall from his lips before going straight to your neck, sucking and biting gently as you whimpered, your nails scraping up and down his back. 

Almost as if your body wasn’t your own, you started to remove your shirt. Once it was out of the way, Colson looked at you in awe. There had been times that he had walked in on you changing, and he would immediately leave and apologize profusely. But little did you know that those images were seared behind his eyelids, and he would get off to the memory of you over and over. 

But now that it was right in front of him, all for him, he couldn’t hold back. He looked at you for approval, and when you nodded your head, he removed your bra with force, and once it was off, he swore to god you weren’t human. 

You were just too perfect. 

Your breasts were soon invaded with Colson’s desperate kisses and bites, his tongue running over the pebbled nipples as you let out erotic sighs, because it felt so good-

“God. You’re so beautiful babygirl, so perfect...” he praised against your skin as you whined, your small hand tangling itself in his blonde hair, a smirk appearing in the corner of his lips as he felt you writhe and squirm beneath him. 

He pulled at your shorts and you lifted your hips, unintentionally brushing up against his shaft, making his breath hitch as he pulled the article of clothing down your thighs until you eventually kicked them off. And now that you were completely naked, Colson took a moment to look at you... all of you. 

He had only dreamt about seeing you like this. He had many ideas about what you looked like under your normal t-shirt and jeans. But now that he was above you, your body on display for him and only him. 

He felt a sense of pride begin to swell in his chest. He was going to mark you. Mark you as his. He was the only one allowed to touch you like this, he was the only one who could make you this needy, this desperate. 

You rubbed your thighs together to create some sort of friction, due to the fact that the man above you was doing nothing but taking you in. It wasn’t until you put your hand lower and lower until it reached you clit that Colson snapped out of it, tightly wrapping his fingers around your wrist, his face now next to you ear. 

You shivered as you felt his breath against the shell of your ear, “Use your words, princess,”

You whimpered, almost embarrassed. You didn’t want to say what you wanted. You didn’t want reality to hit you and make you leave.

Leave.

Please don’t leave.

“P-Please, Kells, I... I need you. I need you to-” your words stopped when a gut-twisting moan fell from your lips as Colson’s hand swirled tight, hard circles on your clit. 

Your head was thrown back once again. 

You weren’t going to just sit back. He wanted to play dirty? Game on. Your hand, in return, went to his violently hard cock, the only barrier being his pants. 

“Oh, fuck.” Colson let out a pathetic sounding groan. And once he realized the noise that just erupted from his chest, he gave you a dangerous glare. 

He tore off his belt throwing it to the side as he stripped fully, before he was over you once again. Your hand trailed to the back of his neck and you looked at him. And for a second, you could see something else in his eyes. It was passion. Love. 

“Do you want this?” he asked, his fingers constricting around your hips, and you were sure there were going to be bruises in the morning. 

“Please Colson, I need you,” you whined, you legs spreading more than they already where. 

He slammed his hips into yours, and a sensual cry leaving you as you grasped tightly onto him, afraid he would disappear in your grasp. Your lips were pressed against his shoulder as you felt him deep inside you. 

Meanwhile, Colson was in heaven. Even though he had yet to move, he felt like he would cum right then and there. You were so tight, so perfect, this had to be a dream. And if it was, he prayed nobody would wake him up. 

You felt pain, so much pain, but it soon died down to a dull ache as soon as you were adjusted. 

He then remembered. And the memory hit him like a pound of bricks. 

You were a virgin. 

You waited for him. You had saved yourself for him. And holy fuck was it liberating. 

He then started shifting, watching as your face scrunched in pleasure, your jaw slack. His rhythm was slow, but almost teasing. This was a new sensation for you, and to know that he was giving it to you, made you clench. 

“Fuck, princess, you’re so fffucking tiGHT!” he groaned out, trying to shift. 

You moaned as he continued to move, your cunt swallowing as much of his cock as it could. And you were a marvel to look at. Your lips were swollen, cheeks red, and nose scrunched up adorably in pleasure. 

His pace began to pick up, and you gasped, arching your back once he hit a certain bundle of nerves inside of you that would surely drive you to the edge. 

“You like that, princess?” he groaned, watching was you could do nothing but moan and whine as you shook your head yes. 

“Of course you do, sweet girl, you’re so perfect for me,” your senses were becoming overstimulated. 

You clenched around him tightly, making him let out a keen of desire, knowing that feeling all too well. 

“Are you gonna cum for me, princess?” he pounded faster, harder, which made you yell out, “Come on, baby, let me feel you come all over my cock, fuck, just like that, fuck,”

You felt yourself clench, an unfamiliar knot forming in your stomach. You could take a wild stab at what that actually meant. But before you could process a single thing, your body began to shake as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. 

And for a small moment, you swore you saw heaven. 

It was then that you realized that Colson had also cum, white ribbons leaving a warm sensation from your stomach to your breasts. 

Colson then did something that made you squirm. He glided two of his fingers up your body, gathering his cum, and opened your mouth, placing them inside. 

You moaned at the taste, and Colson’s breath hitched at the sounds you made. 

You two then cleaned each other up, you laid down beside each other, and it was an amazing feeling to be next to him. You had wanted this just as much as he did. 

“Thank you,” you muttered. 

“For what?” the oblivious question was slightly irritating.

“Well, I’m not a virgin anymore, so thanks for that...,” you said, referring to what you two had just done. 

“Uh, yeah. No problem.” he smiled, kissing the top of your head.“So does this mean we’re together now?”

“Yeah...,” you paused, smiling to yourself, “Yeah, I guess it does.”

((The farther we get into spooky season, the more spooky the stories will be))

[straybreeze]

GX MONTH - Day 7: "Ojama Delta Thunder"

@gxmonth

That’s right! You know what today is! Today we celebrate The Chazz, the one and only Manjoume Thunder! Give sparky boi a hug!

Apocalyptic AU, where Manjoume, feeling left behind, joins another clan in the hope of a better life. Soon he becomes the chief of this clan, then sets off to face his old rival (?).

Word count: 1354

Pairing: Rivalshipping

Title: Echoing Thunder

The world was on fire. So, so long on fire that Manjoume almost forgot how the blue sky looked like once when it wasn’t covered in ashes and smoke yet. Now he couldn’t recall anymore how nice was the golden sun touching his skin, nor the birds chirping amidst the green woods.

They had all gone along with almost everyone he had ever known. In the last three years the younger survivors, who were able to duel, gathered into clans to make an alliance and save their weaker or older fellows. If you won a duel against members of other clans, you could get their supplies. That was how this world worked in the past years, but Manjoume got used to it pretty fast. The stronger you were, the more chance you had for staying alive.

His clan was called “Academia” and it was far from the main continent. It was on an island, in the middle of the wild ocean. Since the sky had fallen upon them, sailing on the open water wasn’t a piece of cake anymore. Ferocious storms were now a constant thing, and the waves so enormous that not too many ships could handle them.

And yet, Manjoume was ready to embark. His family had always been considered wealthy, even after the destruction of their civilization, so getting a ship that was able to cope with the terrible weather and the killer waves wasn’t so hard for him.

He had to get out of Academia’s island. He had to leave this place, no matter what.

Manjoume felt like he didn’t belong there anymore. His friends... hell, were they even his friends? Anyhow, they didn’t care about him. So why should he have to stay with them?

Everyone should have known that he was the best among them. He was the best duelist, who always brought home the biggest loot. He was the one who faced the strongest enemies without a single sparkle of fear, the one who could easily deserve the chief title, simply because there would be no Academia without his family’s funds. Maybe money was worthless now, but Manjoume thought he had other virtues that made him better than anyone in the clan.

And that was when Judai and his friends came.

Judai was an other passionate, enthusiastic duelist, almost as good as him. He was always in the mood for a duel, and regardless the circumstances, he always found a way to have fun and make everyone smile around him. To make them believe in a better future.

That made him so damn annoying for Manjoume and so, so hopelessly charming at the same time.

So when he was defeated against Judai and one of his friends, Misawa too in a “friendly” duel, everyone turned their back against him. Manjoume then realized, there was no reason for him to stay there any longer.

Heavy storm was his company all along the way to the Northern clan. Telling the truth, it was called North Academia, but Manjoume refused to refer to it like that. His Academia was far away in the South and it was his enemy now. He came to the North to start over everything.

The climate was colder than he expected, even if the everlasting flames melted the ice on the lands. But the sky was the same dark grey as anywhere else.

Unfortunately, his family boat finally gave in to the storm on the last hundred meters and Manjoume found himself in the frosty water of the Northern Sea. Somehow, he managed to swim out to the cold and dark shore, before the cold got the best of him, and lost his consciousness.

*

He wasn’t sure what happened after this, but when he opened his eyes, he was far from the shore. Far from anything he had ever known.

Getting into the Northern clan wasn’t that hard as he expected. He just had to trick the guy outside the gate – who happened to be headmaster of this place – and he was already inside. The place was nothing like the Academia: golden walls surrounded him, but there were small wooden houses everywhere, just like in the western movies.

Movies... He couldn’t even remember the times he could watch movies at all. Everything that happened so fast, even if the warning signs were there for a long time.

But this wasn’t the time to mourn the past. No, it was the time to prove once again that he is the best, and he could accomplish anything he wanted. He could take the advantage of knowing the cruel world outside the golden walls, he could show them what the Manjoume name was meant. Fuck the apocalypse, fuck the flame storm, because he is Thunder itself.

He would have even fought against his former comrades to prove his worth. For Manjoume, it wasn’t about survival anymore. It was about his pride. And he would have become the very chief of this enemy clan of the Academia if that was what it needed to demonstrate his power. And that was exactly what he did.

Without him even realizing it, he managed to defeat every single member of the Northern clan, and according to their laws, as the ultimate winner, he became the reigning chief.

As he was standing in the ring of his new comrades, amidst the chanting of the name Thunder, for the first time in his life, Manjoume felt satisfaction.

Only one thing was missing.

Him.

*

After some time came to pass, Manjoume drove his clan into glory. They became the most fearsome duelists in the north, nobody dared to challenge them. And as their wealth thrived, his people wanted more and more.

“What’s is our next object, Chief?” they asked. “Are we gonna conquer the South, too?”

“Hmm, maybe. But I have other plans in mind, too.”

In fact, his target was clearly the Academia. And Judai. For the ultimate victory, to fulfill his goal and everything he had left the Academy for, he had to do one more thing. He had to face him once more.

Getting another massive ship didn’t prove to be as hard as standing on the ash covered ground of the Academia’s island once again and looking into the deep brown eyes after so many months. But there they were, and Manjoume was ready to defeat Judai once and for all.

It could be an easy win, yet he wasn’t able to make it. Manjoume wasn’t able to overcome him, and he was lost to Judai once again.

“I can’t believe it! After everything I’ve done, how could I have lost again... This can’t be happening!” he murmured, kneeling on the floor. He didn’t have the guts to look up to his clan members, nor face the truth, that their Thunderwas destroyed. Judai must be laughing at him.

But no, Judai didn’t laugh. Instead, he stood in front of him and offered his hand to Manjoume.

“That was the greatest duel I’ve ever had,” he admitted and a light smile crossed his lips. Manjoume couldn’t help but accept his hand. “Manjoume, you truly are the best!”

“And what should I do with it? I came here for your supplies not for your compliments,” he grumbled. “The whole thing was pointless after all.”

“Or maybe not.”

As he looked at him, the sparkles of the brown eyes revealed there was something on Judai’s mind. And suddenly he understood too.

After all, it was Manjoume who had the honor to do that. He once again stood in front of his new and old comrades and solemnly united them together. With Judai by his side, surviving in this world seemed easier than ever.

A pompous smile settled on his lips as he heard the echoing chants of the crowd.

“Thunder! Thunder! Manjoume Thunder!”

But for some reason, despite the scorched lands, the cold still hadn’t ceased. It was still so, so freezingly cold and Manjoume knew in his heart, that no matter how high was he aiming, the world around him is going to remain as cruel as it was before.

[brywrites]

Little Beautiful

Summary: In which Max’s art exhibit is a gallery of beautiful things, and Spencer Reid finds himself surprised by what it includes. Spencer Reid x Max Brenner

.......

Spencer Reid can name many beautiful things. He can talk in depth about the natural splendor of the Golden Ratio and why humans love symmetry. He can explain the history of the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa, recount the painstaking detail with which the Taj Mahal was built. He’s seen desert sunsets and shooting stars and the faces of parents reunited with children they thought they might never see again.

He loves all the great and beautiful things in the world. And nobody quite makes the world look as beautiful as Max does. She’s protective of her art, fiercely private about it, but the glimpses she allows him stun him. Then again, he figures he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, she’s beautiful.

Reid thinks he could never tire of looking at her. Her wide, brown eyes, her long eyelashes, the way her cheeks are painted pink each time he pushes her hair back from her face. Her smile just knocks him out. Her movements are graceful, elegant. And the sight of her bare body in the soft light of his bedroom makes him think that no word in any language could ever even hope to come close to describing this sort of perfection.

Everything about her puts a sunset to shame. Her laugh. The way she makes him smile on the worst days. The softness of her touch when her skin is on his. The warmth of her embrace. The kindness of her heart. There’s no doubt, Maxine Brenner is beautiful, in every sense of the grossly inadequate word.

But beauty has a way of reminding him of his own inadequacies. For all his love of lovely things, Reid knows the word is never one he could hope to claim. His face won’t ever inspire poetry. His hair is, at best, an unruly mess. His stubble is always a little scruffier than he’d like it to be. And while he managed to get physically stronger after Milburn, getting in shape didn’t quite happen. He can hold an unsub on the ground without worry, but he’s absolutely terrified each time he undresses before her.

But he loves her. Which is why when she hands him a flyer that reads, Little Beautiful, he knows he’ll say yes to whatever it is before she even explains.

“I have a confession to make,” Max says. “I didn’t want to tell you sooner because I was afraid I might jinx it, but now that it’s all official – I’m going to have an exhibition at Jolie Laide!” Jolie Laide is one of the District’s most revered contemporary commercial galleries, and Max is understandably over the moon.

“What?” he gasps. “When did this happen? How?”

“There was a call for submissions, and well I’ve been working on this idea for a while and I figured why not give it a shot? Spencer, they loved it! They actually loved my art!” she says, and the little hop of joy in her step makes him want to kiss her right there in the middle of the street. Is she even aware of how adorable she is?

“That’s incredible. I mean, I’m not surprised. Everything you do is incredible. But what’s the title mean?” he asks, pointing at the flyer.

“It’s a Van Gogh reference,” she says, and he smiles. Of course it is. The Dutch master will always have a spot in her heart, and in the small “Starry Night” tattoo on her inner arm. “Find things beautiful as much as you can,” she recites. “Most people find too little beautiful.”

She takes his hand in hers. Her hands are small and dainty. He could almost close his fingers around hers completely. It makes him think he must look so strange beside her, a mess of lanky limbs.

“I know that big parties aren’t really your scene,” Max says. “But the opening night is kind of a big deal and it would really mean a lot to me if you came.”

“Are you kidding me?” he laughs. They turn down the street to his apartment. “You’re my girlfriend. We’ve been dating for five months, three weeks, and five days. Of course I’m going to be there.”

“Well good. And tell your friends! The more the merrier. I think you’re really gonna like it,” she adds, with that mischievous sparkle in her eyes that makes his stomach flip.

“If you made it, I know I’ll love it.” Deciding the doorstep of his building is close enough, he leans down to kiss her.

Two weeks later, he finds himself standing in the lobby of Jolie Laide with the rest of his team. Many of them have decided to make a date night of the event, as it’s not often profilers have the excuse to attend a formal event. Reid shifts nervously from foot to foot as they wait for the doors to open. Somehow he still feels out of place in nice suit, wearing the “Starry Night” tie she bought him at a work trip she took to the MoMA. Everyone here looks so beautiful, and he feels like he’s playing dress up, like they’ll all be able to tell he doesn’t belong in a place like this. He’s all too aware of the way he hasn’t managed to tame his hair, of the way his shirt fits a little tighter than it used to, of the way the people around him exude an air effortless cool that he could never hope to.

To ease his mind, he takes comfort in counting the people waiting. They’re all here for Max, for the beautiful things she makes. The last time he was at a gallery opening like this he was standing in a sweater vest next to Gideon who was flirting with the artist while Reid tried not to stare too much at Lila Archer. The memory makes him want to laugh – how infatuated he felt at that time with her. And now with Max, he can’t imagine thinking such a feeling was love. It’s so different than the consuming warmth he feels when he’s with her, the way hearing her voice can bring him back down to earth when his mind moves too quickly, the way he he’s always hated touch but never seems to mind when it’s her. Rather he craves the feeling of her hand in his, her arms around him, her lips on his skin. He’s in love with her, and he’s in deep.

The clock strikes seven and the doors are opened. They step into the bright white gallery space. The moment he’s inside, he is in awe. He recognizes Max’s work immediately, and it’s everywhere. There are large canvas paintings of small objects that take up so much space. There are paintings that must be zoomed in, hyper-focused views of much bigger objects. And it’s all beautiful. Max’s work has the same mastery over colors as the Impressionists, but with contemporary details and precision. Her paintings don’t just look like something, they feel like something. There is a series of pieces of stunningly detailed school supplies – a crayon, a yellow pencil, a bottle of glue. They seem to reflect light, possessing colors far too rich for items so simple.

Max has made them lovely with her gaze, with her hands.

In one painting, a vibrant sunset is seen through a small window. In another, the trunk of a tree is made to look so close that the leaves the viewer stares up at are but a golden blur. Fruit, a butterfly’s wing, and a flower are made into a kaleidoscope of colors. He catches glimpses of familiar faces in portraits – her sister Michelle’s eye, her father’s hand, identifiable by his watch, holding a baseball with vibrant red stitching.

“Wow,” Simmons says, standing beside him. “This is amazing. I mean, I don’t always get art, you know? But damn. Max is talented.”

“She sure is,” Reid says. But he’s only half listening, because he’s taken in by it, by all of it. This is the world through Max’s eyes. All these little details, all the little beautiful things that she sees. And she has reflected them back to the world in a way that takes his breath away.

The unfamiliar voice of an man calls the gallery to attention through a microphone, and Reid makes his way back towards the entrance where all the guests are slowly gathering.

“I now have the pleasure of introducing tonight’s guest of honor, Maxine Brenner,” a man with tiny wire-rimmed classes says.

Reid joins the crowd, falling into place beside Garcia and JJ just in time to see Max walk over in a white lace dress. She is utterly radiant, resplendent. His heart quickens at the sight of her. She takes the microphone and thanks the man with a dazzling smile. “Thank you all for being here,” she says. “It’s truly an honor to share this night with you, and I’m thankful to Jolie Laide for the opportunity to do so. It’s no secret to anyone who knows me that Van Gogh is my favorite artist. He once said, find things beautiful as much as you can. Most people find too little beautiful. The concept for this exhibit was to find all the beautiful things that we overlook. I wanted to pay attention to their little details and find new ways to show the world what beautiful is and what it could be. Every painting is of something I’ve found lovely – whether it’s a natural phenomenon seen through a new lens or an everyday object that just needs someone to notice it or a person–”

She pauses and her gaze moves over the crowd until she spots him. And that mischievous glimmer returns to her eyes. “– who doesn’t realize how beautiful they are. I hope that tonight helps you all to see the beauty around you and in yourselves, and maybe encourages you to see things a little differently, and to find the world a little more beautiful.” As she bows, the room bursts into applause and he swells with pride. This is her moment, and she’s beaming, and he couldn’t be more happy for her.

He wants to go up and hug her, but a swarm of admirers immediately descends upon her with enthusiastic questions and curious remarks. This is her night. He knows that when she wants to talk to him, she’ll let him know. For now, he’ll let these strangers have their moment with her – he can have all of the time in the world with her. The team opts to take a break to help themselves to the refreshment table and Emily offers to grab him a drink, but he politely refuses. He wants to keep walking around.

He can’t help but smile as he does so, hearing the praise and wonder in the words of the other guests. Yes, he wants to tell them. Yes, she’s that talented. Yes, she notices things nobody else does. And she’s hilarious and generous and gorgeous and somehow, somehow I am hers. But how unsightly it would be of him, in his suit and crooked tie, with his messy hair and off-balance gait to interrupt these strangers reveling at the beauty before them. So he stays quiet, happy just to be here. Happy to have the privilege to even witness such beauty.

When he turns the corner, he’s grateful he declined that drink because if there were a glass in his hand, he surely would have dropped it. Many of Max’s pieces are gathered on walls or in corners in groups based on themes or subjects. And in this particular nook, he finds himself uncomfortably familiar with the face staring back at him from one of them. The same face he has stared down in the mirror a thousand times.

It strikes him – Max has painted him. Reid steps closer and realizes it’s not just one painting. The whole wall is him. There is a painting of just one honey-colored eye, gazing down. A hand on the spine of a book. His lips, slightly parted, just a little uneven. His shoulders and collarbone, the slope of his neck and the curve of his chin, a few wild curls visible in the narrow view of the painting. And two portraits where his face is fully visible.

The brushstrokes are so careful, the colors so soft. She paints him in curves and edges and tiny hints of unexpected hues. She paints him with such detail, as though she has tried to memorize every inch of him. She has painted him beautiful.

And for a thirty-six seconds he can’t breathe. He just stares. Because this is how she sees him. And she’s put it on display for all the world to see.

“There’s a level of precision in these that I didn’t see in the other portraits,” an older woman says to a young woman beside her. “I can’t explain it, but it somehow feels like they were more… lovingly painted.”

“Like she knew exactly how they should feel,” her companion agrees.

“The subject has such a striking jawline,” a man says to the woman holding his hand. “And I like the way she painted his hair. Every curl is so careful.”

“It’s really beautiful,” she says, pointing to one of the portraits. Max has painted him smiling, gazing upwards, and he isn’t even sure if he’s capable of looking that way. “I think this one might be my favorite overall.” When they step aside, he can read the small placard on the wall naming the paintings. It reads, “And if I asked you to name all the things you love, how long would it take for you to name yourself?” Series. Oil on canvas. 2020.

Reid swallows hard, past the lump of emotions lodged in his throat, and turns quickly to walk to another corner of the gallery, both to avoid recognition and because if he keeps looking he thinks he might cry. But when he turns, she’s standing right there. Looking up at him through her long lashes, her graceful hands clasped in front of her as she waits in that lovely lace dress.

“Do you like it?” she asks him, nodding at the corner.

“I don’t understand,” he says. “Why did you paint me?”

Max smiles. “I told you, Magic Man, I wanted to paint pretty things.”

He shakes his head. “But I’m not – I mean, look at me, I’m–”

“I am looking.” She reaches up to brush her fingers against his cheek, having to stand on her toes even in heels to do so. “And you are beautiful. My beautiful. I wanted to show you the way I see you. Because of all the beautiful things, none of them make me feel quite like you do.”

Max takes his hand and walks up to the paintings. She says nothing, just waits as he looks at them close up, unafraid of someone realizing he’s looking at himself. He stares at the light and shadows created by her paintbrush. The bright colors that draw attention over painted skin. The soft gaze, the eyes that seem to look so alive. Stray freckles, flecks of tan and gold. It feels so astonishingly intimate. There’s no denying that her work is remarkable. It is beautiful.

And this is how she sees him. Worthy of that sort of attention. Capable of bringing those kinds of colors to life. And when he faces her, he realizes – the painting with the smile. He does look that way. He can feel the movement of the muscles in his face forming a near mirror image as he realizes he only ever looks that way at her.

“Thank you,” he says. Max pulls him down to kiss him, her lips so sweet, and it feels beautiful. He thinks that if they were not here, surrounded by other people, that he would love nothing more than to avail her of that beautiful dress and paint patterns of her skin with his fingertips, give every inch of her the same level of attention with his lips that she did with her paints, and whisper over and over to her just how lovely he finds her.

But they’re not alone, not yet. “Well I’ll be damned,” Morgan says. All of his friends are there, having discovered this nook of the gallery. “Look at that! She somehow managed to make you look even prettier than usual, Pretty Boy.” Reid flushes crimson as they praise Max’s work. She joins them to walk around the rest of the gallery, her hand in his, and from time to time he swears he can see someone staring at the two of them, and he knows they recognize his face. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care how the rest of the world looks at him, so long as he knows the way he looks through her eyes. For the first time, he can see himself the way she sees him. As he is, not as he fears he is.

Somehow, this has become his life. Walking through a gallery of paintings made by his favorite person, while she gazes at him like he’s her only muse, telling him that he belongs among lovely things. Somehow believing it all. Somehow at home surrounded by strangers and a few of the people he trusts most. This is his life. And what a beautiful life it is.